#I hope someone hasn’t already done this lmao

[colliekoi]

Glorious purpose or something

[minnieminshi]

Pucking Chemistry

Summary: You never should’ve agreed to tutor the captain of the hockey team. Who shows up a full hour after the agreed meeting time? Choi Seungcheol, apparently as you’ve come to learn. And now you’re stuck tutoring him because for some reason, you're his last hope to pass chemistry so he’s eligible to play in an upcoming tournament. 

Warnings: cursing because I can’t help myself lol, mentions of your father abandoning the family (it's minor and only mentioned like once)

Word Count: 9.9K (I was possessed lol)

Extra info: high school setting, Cheol uses the term "princess" a lot and I'm a sucker for calling people by their last name, mentions of Monsta X’s I.M (aka Changkyun) and Kard’s Somin (but she gets mentioned like once lol), your little brother’s name never gets mentioned but you do call him Frosty lol, and my knowledge of hockey is limited to watching Dr. Mike on yt talk about hockey injuries so there’s not a whole lot of hockey action in this fic lmao.

Author's Note: this fic made me realize my little brother is turning 13 this year and I can’t handle that because what do you mean he’s a teen now he literally turned one the other day and I think that shows in this fic lol. Also if I only count the days I actually sat down to write this fic it only took me 3 days lol, but I had 3 tests this week and had to be productive so that nerfed me. This is also the first fic I'm posting in this app so bare with me lol and in honor of Scoups and Jeonghan getting cleared to return to activities, I present the beginning of this series

Sporteen Masterlist

Sitting in the school’s library, all your chemistry notes laid out, you began to rethink agreeing to tutor the school’s hockey captain, Choi Seungcheol. With another glance to your phone, you sighed, ten minutes passed what the two of you agreed to meet at. If you didn’t like your chemistry teacher as much as you do, you would have never agreed to do this. 

He’s a sweet guy, I’m sure he won’t give you any problems!

But it’s only ten minutes and sometimes things come up. Maybe he’d walk in after a few more minutes and then you two could finally start. 

Except those ten minutes slowly morphed into thirty minutes, forty five minutes, and now suddenly it’s an hour and not a single word from Choi Seungcheol about where the hell he’s at.

And while having to wait an hour for someone to show up to something they needed sucked, that’s not what pissed you off. What pissed you off was the fact that after this tutoring session, you had a date with Changkyun, set up by your friend Somin, but thanks to the no show Choi Seungcheol, you’d have to rush home, get your little brother ready for the evening and get ready for your date. And while you could hypothetically get everything done in time, you would prefer it if you didn’t have to rush. Your little brother’s probably gonna complain about his quick dinner of chicken nuggets and macaroni after you promised him yesterday you’d make him what he called an “actual meal.” You reminded him that he was twelve and fully capable of cooking for himself and suddenly the quick meal was the best thing he’s ever eaten. 

So he could survive a rushed meal, however getting ready for your date was a different story. Rushing to get ready in the morning for school was one thing. You could halfass an outfit and get your brother out the door in fifteen minutes flat if your mom was already at work, but you needed a little more time to actually look good enough for someone who wasn’t related to you or hasn’t seen you slumped over your desk with textbooks and notes sprawled all over the floor. 

Now, because of Choi Seungcheol, you’d have to rush, something you wished wouldn’t happen. 

“Sweet guy my ass,” you mutter under your breath as you begin shoving your things into your backpack. Just as you finished shoving the last textbook into your backpack, a deep voice caught you off guard before you rolled your eyes.  

“Where’re you going princess, aren’t you gonna tutor me?” 

Oh? 

Letting out a low chuckle, you turn to face the captain who you wished you could smack that smirk off his face and crossing your arms over your chest, you leaned against the table. “Tutor you? I agreed to tutor you an hour ago, and since that’s passed, I’m heading home to go enjoy my evening.” 

As you turned around to grab your backpack and go home, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked up to see him holding onto you, a hesitant look in his eyes. Your brows furrowed as you shook his hand off. 

“Look, I’m sorry about being late, but something came up.” He muttered, his hand falling to his side as he shoved his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. You scoffed as you shouldered your bag. “Too busy to send a heads up?” 

You look up to see a light blush dust his cheeks as he looks away from you, and if you weren’t so pissed at him, you’d find him kinda cute. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You sighed as you glance at the clock on the wall, and with a sigh, you turn to the hockey player. “Look, I have plans so I can give you 45 minutes.” 

“Forty five minutes? That’s barely any time to learn anything,” he complained with a small pout on his lips as you rolled your eyes. “Take it or leave it Choi, you’re the one who was late.” 

He let out a small huff before agreeing to the terms, pulling out a chair as you pulled out your phone, setting an alarm for exactly 45 minutes. Thankfully tutoring him wasn’t terrible, he actually seemed to listen to you and he even took notes while you explained the most recent lesson to him. Maybe if he was kind enough to send a message earlier you might actually feel bad about leaving, but alas that wasn’t the case. 

With the default alarm ringing, you began packing up your things once again, this time, really just throwing everything with no regard as to how things landed in your bag. With a little speeding you should be able to make it home in about fifteen minutes which gives you about ten minutes to make your brother’s dinner and have about thirty minutes to get ready for your date. Perfect timing as long as you leave right now. 

Just as you begin to walk away, pulling up your little brother’s contact to tell him you’re on your way, Seungcheol calls you out. “Are we still good for next week?” You freeze, slowly turning to look at him as your phone rings. “Next week? Listen Choi, I think it’s best if you find someone else to tutor you.”

Before he can say anything, you cut him off. “Listen, I have things to take care of after school and I can’t wait for over an hour, wondering if you’ll show up. I’ll tell Ms. Park to find someone else and we don’t have to worry about seeing each other again.” With that, you walk out the library, your little brother having finally picked up and making things easier for you as he grabbed all the food you told him to. 

Looks like things will be going back to normal after today, no more having to worry about Choi Seungcheol. 

Or so you thought. 

What you didn’t expect to see when coming to pick up your little brother from his little hockey club practice is Choi Seungcheol out on the ice, with your little brother excitedly talking to him about who knows what. 

You internally groan, why, just why did he have to be the one to coach your little brother’s team. And why did you have to say you’d never see him again, it’s like you were asking for the universe to play a cruel prank on you by making sure this would happen to you. 

Weeks ago, when your little brother asked you if you could start taking him to a hockey club he joined every Saturday, you didn’t see any issue with it initially. As long as he had the proper gear (that your guys’ mom provided) you thought it was great he found a sport he enjoyed after he burned through basketball, soccer, tennis, and baseball in a matter of a few years. Plus it meant you could have Saturday to yourself for a few hours while everyone else was out of the house. So a win-win in your book. 

Or so it was a win before you were left in disbelief, standing off to the side as you watched him talk to Seungcheol. You shook your head, calling out his name as you made your way to the plexiglass wall, wanting to go home. You made the rookie mistake of walking into the rink with no jacket, thinking it would be a quick run of picking him up and going back home. How foolish of you to think things would work out for you. 

You let out a small gasp as you made eye contact with your little brother, holding it for a few seconds, only to have him ignore you and continue to talk to his coach, who you knew was aware of your presence. You groan, grounding the heels of your palms into your eyes. Oh how you wished you were an only child in moments like this. Instead you were cursed to be a big sister to a little brother who made your life oh so difficult. 

Calling out his name one more time, he finally looked over at you and started to make his way off the rink. You sighed, thankful you weren’t going to have to resort to actually going out on the ice to drag him out. 

“Took you long enough, I’m freezing over here,” you said once he was at the wall, carefully stepping onto the non-frozen ground with his skates. “That’s on you for not bringing a jacket into the rink.” 

“And that’s on you when all you get for dinner is a slice of bread,” you say when you hand him his sneakers that he had put on the seats before practice had started, and where his backpack was. “Can’t believe you feed me like I’m some paperboy from the 1900s,” he grumbled, but he took the shoes. 

Before you could shoot back a reply, Seungcheol skates up to the wall, a smirk on his face. You roll your eyes, wishing he’d go back to doing figure eights or whatever the hell he does on the ice. He calls out your name but you choose to pretend you don’t hear him, instead leaning down to grab your brother’s backpack, a small groan leaving your lips from the sheer weight in his bag. It’s like he carries rocks in this thing, you complain as you shoulder the bag. He shoots you a look as if asking why are you carrying my backpack, but he doesn’t question it, you know the whole gift horse saying. 

Just as he finishes tying his shoe, Seungcheol crosses the threshold, leaning against the door as he eyes you. You could feel your eye twitching as you watched him what looked like inspect you, and you fight back a groan when he smirks at you.  

“What happened to never seeing each other again prin-” 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you grit out, hoping your little brother could help you if he truly cared about you. You glance over at him, and just from the look in his eyes, you know he’s not helping you out. It’s like his eyes are shining with awe just from being near Seungcheol and you wonder what your little brother sees in him. 

He can’t be that great, you still– well hate’s not the word, that’s too strong, it’s more so you greatly dislike him for what he did a week ago. You still think it was shitty of him to not tell you anything about being late. And of course his cocky personality is really starting to get on your nerves, especially when he calls you princess, as if you two are that close. You’ve only spoken to him a handful of times and yet he calls you a petname as if you’ve known each other for ages. It just makes your skin crawl. 

“You know each other?” Your brother asks, poking his head into the conversation as he looks between the two of you. Before you could say anything, Seungcheol butts in, “she tutors me.” 

Your jaw drops as he smiles, as if he didn’t just lie to your little brother. It’s like every time he opens his mouth he finds a new way to piss you off. You dryly chuckle as you grab your brother’s shoulder, trying to guide him away so you can leave. “I don’t, now come on, I gotta start prepping dinner.” 

“But it’s Saturday, we usually eat out today,” he says and you give him a tightlipped smile. “I just feel like cooking today so why don’t we go home now.” 

At that, it seems like your brother finally puts the pieces together, and nods his head. Just as the two of you are about to leave the rink, Seungcheol calls out your name once again. Already knowing what he’s going to ask you shake your head. “I’ll tell Ms. Park on Monday to find someone else to help you.” 

And with that, you’re gone and Seungcheol’s on his own again, wondering how the hell he’s supposed to get his chemistry grade up without your help. 

“Do you hate Scoups hyung?” Your brother asks once you pull out of the parking lot, your car currently playing I’ll Make a Man Out of You as you let out a confused sound. “Scoups? Is that what you guys call him,” you chuckle, finding the nickname a little silly. 

“He said he doesn’t like people calling him his full name,” he explains with a shrug. “Now, do you hate him?” 

Wow, he’s really not letting this go. 

You sigh as you look over to your right. He’s looking at you expectantly, as if there’s this great and terrible backstory to explain why you wanted to leave the rink as soon as the hockey player approached you. When you tell your brother what happened a few days ago between the two of you, he just rolls his eyes. Yes rolls his eyes, as if being forced to wait an hour for someone to show up isn’t a good enough reason to dislike a person. 

“He apologized, what’s the big deal?” He asks, and it’s moments like this when you're reminded your brother is just a boy. “It’s the fact he made me wait an hour with no heads up that I’m still upset about.” Your brother looks over at you, a small smile on his face. “I think he’s a good guy, I’m sure he had a reason why he was late. I don’t think he meant to blow you off like that.” 

You blink, letting his words sink in for a moment before shaking your head, focusing back on the road. “Let’s stop talking about Choi and focus back on planning your essay that you have due on Monday.” 

He groans, throwing his head back onto the headrest, complaining about why his teacher needed them to write about an important person in their life. “I’m going to write about our dog,” he mutters once the two of you pull up into the parking lot of your apartment. You chuckle, locking the car as he holds open the elevator for you. “We don’t even have a dog.” 

“Ms. Kang doesn’t know that.” He shrugs and sometimes you wonder how your brother’s made it this far. “Whatever you say Frosty, but that essay better be done by tomorrow since mom wants us to go out to eat for dinner.”

“Hey Frosty’s a pretty good name for a dog, you think I could use it for a husky?” 

“You know what, go crazy dude.” 

The last thing you expect when you were walking to the parking lot, heading over to the middle school to go pick up your brother, was to be pinned against a wall in the science building, much less to see Choi Seungcheol, on his knees, begging for you to not talk to Ms. Park. 

You could only blink, wondering what the hell has gotten into him. Did he hit his head too hard from a fall on the ice or something? Feeling a little embarrassed, you try getting him back on his feet before anyone walks down the hall. Thankfully he gets up, but unfortunately he keeps you pinned to the wall, towering over you. 

“Choi, what the fuck’s gotten into you,” you mutter, trying to push him slightly away from you, putting some breathing space between the two of you. 

“Please don’t talk to Ms. Park to find a replacement tutor.” He quietly says and you could feel your jaw drop. No fucking way he’s still on this. You put your hands on his shoulders, effectively getting him to look at you. “You can’t be serious.” 

He groans as he closes his eyes, as if he was thinking of what the best thing to say is. One of your eyebrows raise as you wait to see what he says, and what looks like great reluctance from him, he finally confesses his woes.

“There’s a big tournament coming up in a month and if I wanna play, I need to get my chem grade up.” 

You stare at him for a few seconds. That’s it? Why would this concern you? Feeling a little nice, you don’t voice out your thoughts and instead ask, “so what does that have to do with me? You can just find another tutor.” 

He shakes his head and you tilt your head to the side, now intrigued on what he could possibly say. 

“You’re the only person who actually makes chemistry make sense so if I want a chance to pass this class,” he looks up and your breath hitches when you look into his eyes. You never noticed how pretty his eyes are, or how fucking long his eyelashes are. Shaking those thoughts away, you notice what looks like hope in his eyes, and you realize he really thinks you’ll help him. “I need your help.” 

You blink, trying to weigh your options. While you still hold a grudge against him for the first tutoring session, this tournament’s important to him. The two of you are seniors, and depending on his plans for after graduation, this may be the last time he gets to play the sport. Then of course, you can’t stop thinking about what your brother said the other day, and unfortunately for you, you trust your brother’s judgment. And if Seungcheol’s ineligible to play, you really don’t want that to affect your brother’s team. He’s grown to love the sport in the weeks he’s played and you really don’t want him to lose his growing passion. 

You sigh, closing your eyes as you lean your head back against the wall. “Fine, I won’t talk to her.” He smiles and before he could thank you, you cut him off. “But just know I’m doing this for my brother, he really seems to like you and I don’t want you failing to affect your coaching.” 

“I’ll take it as long as you’re agreeing to keep tutoring me,” he smiles and you’re stunned into silence for a few seconds when you see dimples dot his cheeks. You shake out of it and wiggle out of his grasp. “Yeah, just make sure you’re not late without a heads up, Choi.” 

The next few weeks are filled with Choi Seungcheol, and you’re not sure how you feel about that statement just yet. In the beginning, you were still a bit reluctant, still fearing he’d be late with no excuse, but at your first tutoring session, he had arrived at the library before you. You were walking to some of the tables at the back of the library when you heard someone call your name, only to see it was Seungcheol, who had reserved a study room for the two of you and already had all of his notes out. 

You felt a little bad even though you arrived on time. You had to drop your brother at home so you couldn’t meet right after school, but you did your best to get there as soon as possible. 

He was very attentive while you explained everything to him and you wondered how he was failing chemistry in the first place when it seemed like he knew all the topics. It was when the two of you got to the practice problems did you see where the problems were coming from. 

Your teacher, Ms. Park, has the tendency to make half of your homework situational problems, where you had to apply the basic knowledge that, on its own, was quite simple, but once put in a non-laboratory setting became a lot more difficult if one didn’t have a complete grasp on the concept. And that’s what you suspect is happening to Seungcheol, and the reason he was failing the class. Good thing you caught on in the beginning of these sessions and you could plan accordingly. 

It was another tutoring session when your phone started ringing, you grabbed your phone, confused on who was calling you when you excused yourself, leaving him to work on a problem on his own while you stepped out into the study room next door to take the call. 

Your eyes widen when you hear your little brother’s quiet voice on the other end, hoarse as he asks if you could come back home. You tell him you’re on your way before hanging up the call, and rushing into the study room you were just in. 

Seungcheol jumped at your sudden intrusion, but before he could complain about you scaring him, you started to throw your things into your bag, grabbing your keys. “I’m sorry but my little brother’s sick so I gotta go take care of him.” 

You were halfway through the door when you turned to look at him, “I’ll make it up to when he’s all better!” And just like that, you were out the door, apologizing to the little kid you almost bulldozed down in your rush to your car. 

You make it back home in a new record, most definitely going past the speed limits as you skid into the parking spot in the parking garage, haphazardly raising your hand with your keys in hand in the air as you run towards the elevator, not double checking to see if you actually locked your car. If you didn’t live on the fifth floor, you’d actually consider taking the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, but alas, not even the haze of trying to get to your little brother was enough for you to suddenly have an increase in stamina. 

Thankfully the elevator didn’t take long and you were able to make it to your apartment, throwing open the door as you tossed your backpack down the hallway. You rush into the living room to see your little brother laying across the couch, buried under a pile of blankets. He’s really out of it if he didn’t even bother to look up at all the noise you made trying to get in. You sigh before heading to the bathroom, looking for a thermometer and to check if there was anything you could give him over the counter. 

Tsking at the 100.4° on the small screen, you wiped a damp towel over his forehead, wondering how he got this bad in the span of the 45 minutes that you were gone. He didn’t look too bad when you had picked him up from school, tired sure, but not knocking on death’s door like he is now. You were about to give him the medicine you found when there was a knock at the door. Not knowing who it could be, you quickly gave your brother the medicine and headed to the door. 

You check through the peephole and take a step back, your jaw slacking as you realize who’s on the other side of your door. 

Choi Seungcheol. 

How the fuck did he figure out where you live? You don’t remember telling him and last time you checked, your address wasn’t public knowledge. Shaking off the initial shock, you open the door, now curious as to why he’s here. Before he could explain his sudden visit, you beat him to the punch. “How the hell do you know where I live?” 

He pointed to the floor above you. “Jeonghan told me, plus it was listed on the emergency contacts your brother filled out.” You blinked at him, wondering why your upstairs neighbor would rat you out like that, or how he knew your exact unit number. Whatever, what’s done is done. You point at the convenience store bag in his hand, asking about what he has. 

He brings his free hand to scratch the back on his neck, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips, avoiding eye contact. “I- uh got kinda worried and wanted to check up on you guys.” He brings the bag up, “I don’t know what he’s sick with so I just got the generic stuff and I brought snacks.” 

You stare at him for a few moments before chuckling, thanking him as you take the bag from him and gesture for him to follow you into the apartment. He hesitates for a second before you nod at him, assuring him that it’s okay. He slips his shoes off and sets them down next to yours, following you into the apartment. 

Your little brother looks a little better, actually looking up when the two of you walk into the living room (it’s only a few steps past the little entryway). He looks at the two of you for a second before laying back down. He shoots back up, as if wondering if Seungcheol is actually in your guys’ apartment. 

“Real or am I hallucinating?” 

You laugh as you adjust the towel over his forehead, “as crazy as it looks, he’s real. Now you should lie back down while I make you a porridge to eat.” He nods his head, laying back down as he adjusts the towel to sit over his eyes. You expected Seungcheol to stay in the living room with your brother, you didn’t expect him to follow you into the kitchen, asking if he could help you. Getting over the initial shock, something that keeps happening whenever you’re around him apparently, and start telling him to grab everything that you need. 

It was funny to see him panic everytime you left him on his own to check on your brother, his eyes wide as his head kept snapping from the stove to you. Who knew the tough hockey captain could get so nervous by being left alone in the kitchen? 

Thankfully it didn’t take long for the porridge to be made, and once you confirmed that your brother was able to keep his food down, you went back into the kitchen. “How do you like your ramen Choi?” 

You turn to see him pouting and for some reason you feel the urge to poke his cheeks. Weird. 

“Why do you keep calling me Choi?” He complains, leaning against the counter as he watches you take out another pot and two packages of your favorite ramen brand. You look over your shoulder, closing the cabinet before standing back up. “Would you prefer me calling you by your full name?” You tease, smiling as you see his cheeks turn the softest shade of pink. He stumbles over his words before you hear him mutter a quiet no, and you just laugh. 

“I just don’t get why you call me by my last name instead of what everyone else calls me,” he says, handing you an egg when you ask for one. You shrug, “it started when you blew me off the first tutoring session and it kinda stuck.” 

“What do I have to do for you to call me something other than my last name,” he begs, and you laugh at how serious this is for him. You didn’t think his name would be this sore spot for him, but it is amusing to see him so stressed over something so small. You look over at him while the water’s boiling, biting your lip as you pretend to think it over. “Get over a 90 on our next chem test and I might consider it.” 

His jaw drops as he stands there frozen for a few seconds before groaning. “A 90? Listen, you're a great tutor but our next test is in literally three days and the best I’m getting is probably a mid 70.” 

“Then Choi it is,” you reply, grabbing two bowls. At least he believes he can pass this next test, that’s some progress. Before he can start complaining, you both freeze when you hear your little brother yell out, “can you two stop flirting and get me another bowl of porridge,” and before you can yell at him for even saying that he throws in a little “please” at the end. Wow, how polite of him. 

“We’re not flirting!” You say, walking into the living room to take his bowl, and as much as you want to tackle him to the ground for even suggesting you’re flirting with the hockey player, you decide to take pity on him, this time. He’s lucky his body failed him today. 

Once your sickly brother is content with his second bowl of porridge, you take your and Seuncheol’s bowls to your small dining table. He follows and you go back for utensils, asking what he’d like to drink. Once everything is set on the table, the two of you start eating in a comfortable silence, the show your brother was watching filling the otherwise silent apartment. Your eyes fall to his backpack that was by the door and you swallow what’s in your mouth before motioning to his bag. 

“Wanna continue with where we left off? I really think if we can get past this topic you can definitely score somewhere in the 80s.” His eyes follow at what you’re pointing at, and he nods, finishing his bowl before getting up to grab his backpack, and even getting your backpack that you had thrown earlier. 

The two of you pick up where you left off, occasionally taking breaks when your little brother claims he needs your assistance with what he calls “surviving” when in all actuality it was just him wanting another refill of his water. 

It was nearing 8 o’clock when the two of you were done for the day. As he was gathering his things, your brother got enough strength to get off the couch, heading to his room before waving bye to Seungcheol, telling him he’d definitely be good to go to practice on Saturday. The hockey player laughs as he leans over the table to fist bump him, telling him he better keep his word. You smile at the exchange, happy to see your brother doing better. 

“Come on, I’ll see you down,” you say when he’s gotten all his things. Before he can argue with you about it being unnecessary, you wave him off, saying how it’s the least you could do after he came all the way over to check up on the two of you.

The two of you are in the elevator when he finally speaks again. 

“Is it usually the two of you this late into the evening?” He asks, his eyes hesitantly flitting from your face to the wall next to your head. You hum, leaning against the railing with your eyes closed, “our mom works late at the hospital and…” You trail off, opening your eyes to see Seungcheol watching you, something in his eyes that makes you look away, the floor suddenly a lot more interesting to look at. Why does he look at you with so much care? 

“Our dad left when my brother was a couple of months old so it's just been us three,” you say, not quite believing you're actually telling him this about yourself. Hell, you don’t even know if he has siblings and yet you’re out here telling him your family life. Crazy what some dimples and pretty brown eyes can do to a girl. 

“Oh.” 

Ah, probably should’ve lied about your absent father. Something about him working late should’ve been excuse enough. Well, too late for that you internally groan at. Before you can apologize for making things awkward, he interrupts you. 

“Can we move our tutoring sessions to your place?”

Your jaw drops for a few seconds before you snap out of it, blinking to try to get your brain caught up to speed. “Why?” 

He sighs, turning away to face the elevator doors and you’ve never been more thankful for someone to stop looking at you. “I kinda hate the idea of your little brother waiting at home by himself while you’re tutoring me.” 

“He’s twelve, but as long as you don’t mind coming over here,” you say, glancing over at him, “then okay, we can move to our apartment.” He smiles and you feel this weird pang in your chest. The last time you felt this excited over a person was when you were getting ready for your date with Changkyun the other day. Does that mean you’re starting to actually enjoy Seungcheol’s company? 

Bound to happen considering you spend your Monday and Wednesday afternoons with the guy. It’s just, it feels different than what you felt with Changkyun and part of you just wants to bury that thought away and focus on anything else. Thankfully the elevator ride didn’t last too long and you walked Seungcheol to his car, your chest feeling a little bit tighter as you watched him drive away. 

It’s Saturday and you’re back at the rink to pick up your brother from practice. He’d gotten better and while you were hesitant to drop him off at practice, he insisted that he was all good to practice. You let him go, but not without texting Seungcheol before heading over to practice, asking him to keep an eye on your brother. This was the first time you texted him about something other than about your tutoring sessions and while your hands were shaking just thinking about talking to him about something other than chemistry, thankfully he agreed to keep an eye on your brother. 

You grab a jacket from the backseat, not wanting to freeze while you wait for your brother. He always manages to be the last one out of the rink, always talking to Seungcheol while everyone else skates towards the door to change out of their skates and into their shoes. 

And just like the past couple of weeks, your brother was still out on the ice, except instead of the two standing to the side talking about their practice, the two were skating over across the ice, the small black puck gliding between the two of them as they pass the puck amongst themselves. If you squint, you can see what you assumed is Seungcheol giving your brother tips because soon he nods and adjusts his hold on his stick. 

Then, catching the two of you off guard, he steals the puck from the hockey player, successfully scoring a goal on the unguarded net. Your mouth falls open before cheering for your brother. Sure it wasn't a game changing play, but you were still proud of him. Upon hearing your cheering, your brother skates to the wall where you’re standing, the short wall and the plexiglass the only thing separating the two of you. 

“Did you see that! I totally got him good!” He excitedly told you and you smiled. “Sure did dude, next time I think you should go for his knees, then you’d have no one stopping you,” you joke, smiling as your little brother laughs, complaining how that’s “not very good sportsmanship” but winks at you when Seungcheol skates over to the two of you, wiping off some of the ice shavings off his pants. 

“I can’t believe you’re telling your brother to kill me, princess,” he pouts and you roll your eyes, glad it’s so cold in the rink you can’t tell if your face is burning from the petname or from the freezing temperatures. You roll your eyes, pulling the collar of your jacket higher in an effort to cover your face. “Isn’t that part of the sport Choi, pushing and shoving each other?” 

He shrugs, a smile on his face. “Glad to see you know something about the sport, I see Frosty over has been teaching you.” Your brother groans when he hears his coach use the nickname you gave him once he started hockey. It started off as a small joke that somehow morphed to having the whole team only ever calling him Frosty. Hey, at least he’s already got a marketable name, you told him one day when you were driving back home after practice a few weeks ago.  

You shrug, tugging your jacket tighter. In all actuality your brother hadn’t explained the sport all that much besides the occasional “you don’t do that” or “that’s a good thing” or other vague explanations when you ask him questions. Instead, after a tutoring session with Seungcheol, and as a way to procrastinate an essay you had to work on, you decided to look into the sport. It wasn’t much, just a quick google search about the rules that had you clicking off the site after a few paragraphs and instead watching a couple of matches on youtube. You had half the mind to ask Seungcheol but decided against it. You were just supposed to be tutoring him in chemistry and you thought learning more about the sport he put years in was a little much for you. (And the thought of him in his full uniform was starting to make your heart ache just a little much.) 

“Might as well since I come here once a week,” you say, and Seungcheol smiles, and you wish he didn’t have such a cute smile. His gummy smile is going to be the death of you, you think as you look over to see if your brother’s got his shoes on. 

You don’t know when you started to see Seungcheol in a different light. Probably around the time your brother got sick since that was the first time you got to see him not in a school setting. Or to be more exact, the moment he asked if your tutoring sessions could be moved to your apartment so you could watch over your brother. Whenever it was, you wished it didn’t happen. 

After the results of the chemistry test the two of you have a week, your tutoring sessions would be over since by then you’d know whether or not he’d be good to compete in the tournament. While a part of you was sad to think about not being with him every Monday and Wednesday with him, you’re at least happy about the fact his grade’s would be doing better. And sure, at first you were helping him out reluctantly, but after spending so much time with him, you realized he was nothing like you originally thought he was like. 

Your first meeting really was just a fluke, and he was just a nice guy. You actually had asked him after a few sessions why he was so late to the first tutoring session and you can remember the cute blush that grew on his face as he explained how he was planning the youth hockey team’s practice and lost track of the time. He looked so cute, his cheeks a rosy pink and a small pout on his lips, and that’s when you thought, yeah, he’s not that bad of a guy. 

“Okay, I’m good to go,” your brother says, and you blink, snapping out of your thoughts. You nod, extending your hand to help him carry some of his gear. Noticing your empty motions, Seungcheol takes a step towards you but you shake your head. “I’ll see you on Monday Choi.” 

“Yeah… see you later, princess.” 

You’re really, truly fucked, you come to realize as you stare at your phone. Why, just why did you have to send that text? 

Your friend, who was under the impression you still hated Seungcheol for blowing you off the first tutoring session, asked if there was a way you could set her up with him for a date. And you, still not wanting to admit the fact that you’ve definitely started catching feelings for the captain, agreed to set the two up. And trying to convince yourself that the warm feeling you get in your chest from just seeing him smile meant nothing, you sent a text wondering if he was down to meet with your friend over the weekend. 

And now you’re waiting for a response, hoping that he won’t agree to the date. Hell, you’re on your knees hoping that even if he does say yes, that it goes horrible so they don’t keep meeting. Terrible, yes, but your heart can’t handle the idea of someone who isn’t you by his side. And yet you still won’t admit that you have a crush on him. (Denial is one hell of a drug.) 

When you hear your phone go off from a notification, you push yourself off the floor, where you’ve made home the past couple of minutes. With a shaky hand, you flip your phone over, clicking on the notification. 

Choi 🏒: tell her sorry, I’m not interested in dating right now 🫤

Oh. 

He’s not interested in dating right now? For some reason that hurts more than if he said he is interested in the date. With a shaky inhale you text him back, letting him know you’ll let her know and you toss your phone away, burying your face against your knees. 

Okay so maybe you do have a crush on Seungcheol, big fucking hurray. 

You’re walking back to your car when you hear someone calling out your name. You recognize the voice and freeze, wondering what Seungcheol wants with you and wishing he’d just leave you alone. Despite him doing nothing wrong, you really don’t want to see him right now, especially since you were going to use the drive back home to prepare yourself for your tutoring session with him. 

He runs up to you, a smile on his face as he blocks you from opening the driver’s side. You cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow as you look at him. “What’s up Choi?” 

“I came by to tell you that I can’t make it to today’s session.” He explains and you notice how his cheeks are tinted pink. Just how far was he running from? You give him a look as you lean against your car. “So why didn’t you just text me then?” 

“I wanted to see you.” 

Your eyes widen as you turn to face him fully. You feel your face burn as you try unsuccessfully to say something in return. He smiles and you want nothing more than to wipe his adorable smile off his face. The fact he doesn’t even know the emotional turmoil he’s putting you through is insane and you wish he didn’t have this much power over you. You try coughing, covering your face as you look away from him. “Yeah, whatever, is that all you have to say?” 

He nods and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweats and still with that frustratingly cute smile, his stupid dimples on full display, “I’m still good for Wednesday though, I want to celebrate our last session before the test Friday.” You nod, a tight lipped smile on display as you wave him goodbye. 

Once in the comfort of your car, you groan, dropping your head on the steering wheel, wishing you weren’t so crushed over this. Things come up all the time, it’s not a big deal he can’t make it today. If anything you can just use this time to get your homework done for the week so you don’t have to worry about it later. Maybe instead of groveling over a guy you could actually be productive for once. 

Wednesday rolls around and you don’t think you’ve given yourself a chance to think about Seungcheol. How could you when you’ve been busy doing your homework, planning what you’d cover in today’s session, helping your brother with his homework, doing all the chores around the apartment, and if you weren’t busy with all that you had your headphones on, not even giving yourself the chance to think. Who needs to think when you’ve been so busy? 

You pull out of the parking lot of the middle school, your little brother grabbing your phone to change the song that was playing. Sticking to a song that you hoped wouldn’t show up on your spotify wrapped, you keep driving, your thoughts starting to drift off to Seungcheol. Catching yourself, you will yourself to listen to the song your brother chose, and you wonder which was worse for your mental health. 

Once in the comfort of your apartment, your little brother heads off to his room claiming how he doesn’t want to watch his older sister flirt with his hockey coach while he does his homework. At first you’d argue that you weren’t but as of late you knew there was no saving yourself and didn’t even try to fight back anymore, only groaning as you started to set the table. 

A few minutes later you hear someone at the door and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself to get through your last session and as a way to prepare your heart for the inevitable. Seungcheol smiles as he steps inside, slipping off his shoes as he places them next to yours. You turn around and your eyes widen as your face heats up as you take in his appearance. He was just wearing a pair of sweats and a black shirt and yet you could feel your heartbeat race at the sight. You quickly turn around, pretending to adjust your notebook as you try to calm your beating heart. He’s worn that outfit combo tons of times and yet now your heart decides to give you trouble. 

If he notices your internal struggle, he doesn’t say anything. He takes his seat at the table, taking out his things as you finally look at him to start. Hopefully your heart can take the next few hours, if not, thankfully your mom’s a registered nurse. 

“Hey princess,” he starts and you, against your better judgment, smile at the petname, “can I ask you something.” You put your pencil down, turning to face him as he put his pencil down, the problem you had given him to work on an afterthought. “Sure, go ahead.” 

“If I ace this test will you come watch me play in my tournament?” He asks, his eyes sparkling with hope and you find yourself leaning against your hand to cover your mouth so he can’t see the dopey smile on your face. “When you say ace, how high of a score are we talking here,” you tease. You don’t know where this sudden confidence came from but if it helps you from burning away in your seat, you’ll take it. 

He smirks, leaning close to you and your breath hitches, freezing in your seat. “I say at least a mid 90.” You chuckle, leaning in close as you internally scream at yourself to back the fuck away from him. “Sure, you got yourself a deal, but I’m expecting the best from you Choi.” You say, beginning to turn away so he can’t see the dopey smile on your face.

“Of course, can't disappoint my princess, can I?” His pointer finger and thumb gently hold your chin, making you look at him and his stupid smug face that you so desperately want to kiss. 

Oh yeah, your heart’s definitely going to explode. 

You think you mutter something along the lines of “in your dreams Choi” but at this point you’re not even sure you can still rangle up enough brain cells to formulate a coherent thought. Heat floods your cheeks as he still holds your face and you swear you see his eyes fall to your lips, or at least you think they do. You’re too busy staring at his lips to really be too sure. 

Somehow your one brain cell manages to scramble enough thoughts to control your body, except it makes you lean in closer to him, close enough you can feel his breath hover over your lips. Your eyes flutter shut and just when you think everything is going great you hear your little brother yell your name from his room and that’s enough to snap the two of you out of the daze you’re in. You clear your throat, excusing yourself as you push out your chair and head to your brother’s room, wondering what the hell he needs that he just needs you right now.

“What do you want?”  You hiss out, leaning against the doorframe of his room. He looks up from his desk, papers scattered across the wooden surface as he turns his swivel chair to face you. He shrugs, “I felt this weird disturbance in the force and called you over here.” 

It takes everything in you to not throw him across his room. You sigh, “yeah that disturbance was born twelve years ago.” 

“Hey!” He throws a pokemon plushie, piplup if you remember correctly, at you. You duck and the plushie hits your bedroom door behind you. You turn around to pick it up, only to immediately throw it back at him, and successfully manage to hit him in the head with it. He stumbles back in his chair and you laugh at him. He glares at you for a moment before breaking out into laughter as well. “Okay fine good aim, I’ll give it to you,” he acknowledges with a surrender of his hands, the plushie back on his shelves, joining the rest of his collection. “Now go back to tutoring Scoups hyung so you can make dinner.” 

You shake your head, a small smile on your face. “You can always make dinner, you should probably start now since I’ll be going off to coll-” 

“Don’t say the c word!” He interrupts, a new pokemon plushie in hand. His eyes are wide and your smile softens before it’s turning into a small pout. The past year you’ve been trying to teach your brother how to take care of things around the apartment since soon it’ll just be him waiting for your mom to come home, but each time he always changes the subject, or even resorting to throwing his plushies to stop the conversation. In that moment you don’t see your twelve year old brother who loves to get on your nerves, instead you see your baby brother who never left your side for anything. Your other half despite the six year difference between the two of you.

Before you know it, your throat tightens up as you watch him lower the plushie, turned away so he’s not looking at you. “Um… you should probably go back to Scoups hyung.” His voice is small, like if speaks any louder and he might start crying.  

You nod, slowly backing out of his room, “yeah, just let me know if you need anything.” You turn to walk out when you turn back to face him, “I’ll make your favorite for dinner tonight.” His head perks up and you smile at him, to which he returns. 

You make it back to the living room to see Seungcheol working on the problems you had left him. You let out a small chuckle, and he looks up, smiling when he notices your back. “Everything okay?” 

You nod, “he’s fine, he was just a little bored.” He smiles and the two of you get back to your homework. Soon enough, the two of you finish, even with the practice you gave him to really prepare him for your upcoming test, and you relax in your seat, a smile on your face. Seungcheol faces you, his smile growing as he looks from his papers to you. “Thank you, I don’t think I could’ve done this without you.” 

You wave his compliment off, your smile perpetually stuck on your face when you're around him. “Nope, it’s all you Choi, I’m simply here to help you. Now you’ve gotta ace this test so I can go watch you win this tournament.” He smiles and you don’t think you’d ever find dimples this cute on another person in your life. 

“Anything for you, princess.” 

You’re walking out of your last period class when you hear Seungcheol call your name out. You turn around, already smiling since you know what this is going to be about, and judging by his voice, it’s going to be good news. 

He runs up to you, stapled papers in hand and you just know it’s his chemistry test. He makes it infront of you, his hands coming up to hold your shoulders in an effort to stabilize himself, his test pressing against your shoulder. “I got my results back!” 

You laugh, your hands coming up to rest over his, smiling and feeling heat begin to creep up your face at the close proximity. “I can tell, but come on I’m dying to know what you got Choi.” A light blush grows on his face as his smile grows, his hands moving away from your shoulders as he straightens up his test since it had gotten crumpled during everything. 

Once it was straightened out, he flipped it over, handing the test to you. You take the test and your eyes widen when you see the large 100 written next to his name. You look up to see him smiling and in your excitement, you pull him into a hug. “Oh my god! I knew you could do it, this is amazing!” He tightens his hold on you, picking you off the ground to spin you in a hug. You’re laughing as he gently sets you down, you’re smiling so much your cheeks are starting to hurt but you don’t even care right now. You’re just so happy for Seungcheol, happy that this means he gets to play in his tournament. 

He pulls you into another hug, muttering into your hair, “thank you, I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you.” You pull him closer, “of course Cheol.” 

The day of the tournament arrived and you don’t know why you’re so nervous. Seungcheol and the team have been doing great all day, moving farther and farther up the rackets, and yet you’re still nervous. It probably has to deal with the fact neither of you really discussed what happened last week, the whole really intimate hug in the middle of the hallway and all that. You two actually were texting back and forth the past week, and yet neither of you dared to talk about the hallway incident. 

Just like how neither one of you spoke about the almost kiss back in your apartment. 

So your nerves are most definitely tied to whatever you got going on with the captain of the hockey, the very same captain who’s leading his team to victory. This is the first time you’re seeing Seungcheol in his full uniform and damn, he looks good in his uniform. Something about how it makes him look larger just makes your heart beat faster every time he skates by where you’re sitting. 

The first time he skated by, you watched as he did a double-take before smiling his gummy smile, dimples on full display and waving at you and your brother, who insisted on coming along. (You weren’t going to tell him no, of course you’re going to bring him along.) Occasionally, he’d shoot you a look, smiling at you and you’d wave at him, feeling your face burn up every time. 

It’s the final match of the day, and you don’t think you’ve screamed this much in your life. You always make sure to cheer for Seungcheol every time he makes a goal, and halfway through the day, it turns into a competition between you and your brother on who could cheer the loudest for him. And you’re not about to lose against your brother. 

Somehow the match had gone into overtime due to the teams being tied and you’re at the edge of your seat, your little brother in the same position. At some point he grabbed your gloved hand, squeezing tight as they entered the sudden death overtime. (Why the hell is it called that?) You squeeze his hand as you watch Seungcheol go head to head against someone on the other team and you hold your breath watching as the two try to steal the puck from the other. 

Just when it looks like the other guy’s about to steal the puck, Seungcheol finds an opening, sending the puck into the unguarded goal, making the winning shot. 

You and your brother shoot up in your seats, and you pull him into a hug as you both jump in excitement and happiness. Seungcheol gets affectionately tackled by his teammates as they swarm him, and you can hear them chanting their captain’s name as the announcer relays the winning team. You look over once you’ve calmed down a bit and somehow manage to make eye contact with him. You smile and you mouth “I’m so proud of you," hoping he’d be able to understand you. 

It seems like he does because soon enough it looks like he mouths something along the lines of, “all for you, princess.” 

The tournament’s over now and you’re waiting for your little brother to finish in the restroom before you two head back home. A part of you wishes you’d get to see Seungcheol before leaving but he’s probably busy with after game things and celebrating that you’ll just settle with talking to him some other time. 

You’re about to text your brother to ask him where he’s at when you feel someone come up from behind you, spinning you around. You shriek, holding your phone close to your chest, about to curse out whoever it was when you hear the person laughing and you immediately soften, knowing exactly who it is. 

He sets you back down, turning you to face him. You smile and before you can even open your mouth to congratulate him on winning his senior tournament, he cups your face, leaning in to kiss you. Your eyes widen at the contact before they flutter shut, your own hands coming up to rest over his. His hands are freezing but you don’t mind, not when your face is burning up enough you’re sure you could warm up his hands in minutes. Your hands drift from his to rest over his shoulders, pulling him closer as you lean slightly back, with him following. He pulls away from the kiss to catch his breath, causing you to chase after his lips, already missing the pillowy feeling of them on your own. He chuckles before dipping down to kiss you again when someone clears their throat. 

You groan, already knowing who it is, dreading whatever comment he has to say. You look over your shoulder, only to see your little brother smiling. You definitely expected him to be pulling some disgusted face to make fun of you. Instead he was smiling, smiling so big you would think he just won a year’s supply of his favorite food. 

“If you’re done making out with your boyfriend, do you wanna ask him if he wants to join us for dinner?” 

Seungcheol's hand slips into your own, squeezing your gloved hand as you look up at him. His smile is so big and his cheeks are a pretty pink blush. “I really like the sound of that, what do you think princess?” 

You like that a lot, you think, squeezing his hand as you drag him to follow you and your brother, laughing when you hear his teammates cheering for their captain, for finally getting his girl. 

Maybe tutoring the captain wasn’t so bad after all.

[callme-holly]

HEY HI HELLO!! I was wondering if you havent already, do johnny or darry headcannons? BTW I LUV UR WRITING SM 🫶🏻

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - okay, I freaking love Darry so much but I struggled so hard writing this. omg I also want to apologise bc I didn't realise how many mistakes were on my last post like I audibly gasped when I looked. anyway, hope ya'll enjoy this lmao!! asks are still open for requests - I'm done with exams for a few weeks so I can finally start working on things more!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 644 words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - none

He is such a gentleman, omg, I can't even

If you need something done, this man will do it for you with no hesitation. You’re important to him, and he wants to make sure you know that.

He’s probably not overly affectionate unless you two are completely alone. Once the gang had caught you both cuddling on the couch, and they had teased him for weeks afterwards.

In public, he’ll hold your hand and give you the occasional kiss, but nothing too extreme. He likes to keep your moments together private; they mean a lot to him, and he’s not just going to give the people around you the pleasure of seeing him so vulnerable.

At night, he’ll definitely hold you close while you two sleep.

He’s like a furnace, so who needs blankets when you’ve got Darry to keep you warm?

Arguments don’t happen often between the two of you, but when they do, they’re usually pretty bad. Give him a few hours to cool off, and then he’ll be holding you from behind and mumbling muffled apologies into your ear as he peppers your neck with small kisses.

Lots of massages and baths together. He works a lot, and his muscles are almost always tense, so having that time to relax and wind down with you is just what he needs.

He’s not the overly jealous type. Sure, if he thinks someone is getting a little too friendly with you, he’ll come up and try to take you away from them, but he isn’t going to stop you from interacting with someone completely just because he can’t control himself.

Date nights aren’t very common. In between work and taking care of his brothers, Darry doesn’t get much free time, but when he does, you best believe he is spending it with you, showing you how much he loves and appreciates you.

He’ll take you to dinner or for a drive in his truck just to get away from the house for a little while.

Sitting in his lap while he reads the paper!!

The gang, mainly Dallas and Two-Bit, refers to you as “mom and dad,” and it honestly drives you both insane.

“Look, I’m just sayin’, you’ve got that whole ‘nurturing, responsible, and slightly annoyed at my antics’ vibe going on.” “Well, if you keep up with those antics, you might find yourself sleeping outside for the night.” “Oh, come on, mom, you wouldn’t do that to your favourite child, would you?” “For the last time, Dallas, you are not my child. And if you were, you certainly wouldn’t be my favourite.”

Sodapop and Ponyboy love you. Like they love you. They will cling to you the second they meet you, and you’ll never be able to get rid of them.

I’m not even going to pretend he doesn’t have a picture of you in his wallet. He does, and he’s proud of it.

WEARING HIS SHIRTS!!!!

Constantly complimenting each other. Not a day will go by where he hasn’t complimented you at least ten times. He just needs you to know how perfect you are.

You stopped him from yelling at Ponyboy so much.

When you first brought it up, you definitely argued for a little while about the subject. He just wants what's best for his brother, and you telling him that he needs to lay off is probably going to spark something defensive within him.

He doesn't say ‘I love you’ very often, usually whispering it late into the night or early in the morning when you two are laying in bed and tangled with each other, but he always ensures that you know how much he cares and appreciates you.

Needless to say, Darry will not let you go away feeling unloved.

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[idksmtms]

willow (Cillian Murphy x Actress!reader) - evermore series

evermore series

A/N: I had an idea up on my masterlist about falling in love with Cillian while filming a movie so I just decided to merge it with this. Also I saw the picture of him and Emily Blunt walking in costume on the set of Oppenheimer and I thunk thoughts. (sidenote: I cannot write a summary to save my life) 

Extra info: I never say the title of the movie you guys are filming in the fic because I didn’t really want to get too detailed about it, but then I thought of the plot of The Delinquent Season the entire time lmao (I just changed random things because I’m a sucker for an age gap). Also, we’re pretending Oppenheimer hasn’t happened yet because it works for the story. 

Edit: I feel like the ending sucks but I’m too tired to change it. Sorry. 

Summary: When you met Cillian Murphy on set, you were already a fan. When you left, you were so much more…

Word count: 9,772  (oh my gosh I went so overboard with this…) 

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, age gap, PinV sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, toxic!Cillian, like 0 communication between characters, secret relationship, not proofread but they never are (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: This is written purely for fictional purposes and for the sake of writing. No disrespect is intended to the real people portrayed/concerned in this scenario. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

You met Cillian Murphy for the first time five hours before you kissed him. Despite being cast in the lead female role, you were a rather late addition to the movie. Issues had come up with the actress initially cast and you had gotten a phone call about two months before shooting started to get yourself to the studio to sign contracts and start costume fittings. This was an amazing opportunity, and regardless of the rush, you were excited to have it. You had been in movies before, of course, but this was your first lead role and if you did a good enough job, it could skyrocket your career trajectory. Aside from all the good things it could do for your career, you were simply excited to get to work, and to get to work with such a good cast and filmmaker. 

On top of all of that, you would be working closely alongside the Cillian Murphy. When you were told that he was to be your costar, you had been in shellshock for a moment before pressing an obnoxious kiss to your agent’s cheek. Cillian Murphy was one of those actors that only came around once in a lifetime. He was only in tasteful, and well done projects, playing a variety of the most interesting characters you had ever watched. You had seen Peaky Blinders, Inception, Dunkirk, and though you had no interest in superhero movies, you sat down and watched all three Batman movies just to watch him play a villain. In the few interviews you had done up to now, you had mentioned once or twice that you believed him to be the best actor of your lifetime, someone who was left unrecognised at awards shows but deserved all of them and more (as you walked onto set for the first time, you really hoped he hadn’t seen any of those interviews). So, to say you were a fan before the movie might have been an understatement, but you had worked with other people who you were fans of before, and Tom Glynn-Carney only had nice things to say about you afterward; you could be professional and a fan. 

You had been put up in a hotel the night before you were to be driven to the studio lot, your new home for however long you were going to be filming there, and in the morning a polite chauffeur arrived in a blacked out car to take you there. You felt a little giddy during the drive, as you always did before starting a new project. You hadn’t learnt the rhythms of the set yet, the director’s process, whether it would be a rush of technical work or a more relaxed set. You hadn’t worked with most of the other actors, you didn’t know how they approached the job, whether they were welcoming and friendly or preferred to focus on the job then return to solitude. It was all the unknowns that made your stomach feel swoopy, but you had come to like the feeling, viewed it as a challenge, the beginnings of an investigation to learn about your job and home for the rest of the duration of the project. 

You were deposited into the custody of one of the many assistants running around, and hurriedly walked to your trailer with a warning that you would only have five minutes to put your things down, change into your costume, possibly have a sip of water, before you would be taken to hair and makeup and given your costume. You smiled brightly at her, nodding and affirming her over and over that you understood. Your first actual job on a movie set had been as an assistant, you knew her job was hard enough without an actor giving her attitude, so you simply followed her. 

The area you walked through was like the other studio lots you had been to before, large buildings that looked like warehouses on the outside but probably held the coolest sets or the most intricate technology on the inside. People drove around in golf carts, some assistants sprinted while yelling down the phone, others hurriedly rolled clothing racks between buildings. You could see someone giving an interview in the distance but they were too far away for you to tell who it was. 

The trailer you were led to was in a wide space filled with other trailers, what you imagined the setup area for a circus looked like. It was bland and white on the outside, your name in big letters surrounded by the shape of a star (some intern clearly had fun with Canva) on the door, and you felt that bubble of excitement all over again. You let the assistant open the door for you, thanking her and shooting her a smile as if inviting her to join in on the excitement you felt before stepping in. It was exactly as you had expected it to be, and that made you happier than anything else. There was a small kitchenette area with cupboards and a minifridge. A counter separated it from a little seating area, couch seats against either wall, before a tiny hallway (which could barely be called a hallway) that had the door to the bathroom on one side and led into a little bedroom (which was just a bed with a little space on the side to walk and nothing else). Your clothes were hung up on a little hook on the bathroom door. 

You deposited your tote bag on the counter and went to the minifridge, pulling out a bottle of water and taking a big gulp. Ice cold and delicious. You scrunched yourself up and did a happy little jump and squeal because you were living the dream, and nothing could be better than that. You messaged your parents and friends that you had arrived, sent pictures and a little video of the trailer, before picking up your costume and getting into the little bedroom to change. 

It was a simple pair of mom jeans, well fitted and slightly higher than your ankle, accompanied with a plain white blouse that had blue detailing around the neck and off the shoulder sleeves that ended just after your elbow, something you could imagine a mum wearing on vacation in Greece. It was comfortable, and you made a little note to ask the costume designer where she got the pieces because it may or may not have been the best pair of jeans you had ever worn. 

You were able to take another big gulp of water before a knock and a voice at the door was telling you to get to hair and makeup. The trailer for hair and makeup was closer to the actual block of buildings you would be filming in, and a little golf cart was ready to take you there. You let out a little laugh as you settled yourself inside, chatting with the driver as he manoeuvred around people and other obstacles to get you there. 

It was quieter in this corner of the studio, more people walking than running, less things being shifted around in a hurry, and you felt a sense of calm in the air (or at least whatever semblance of calm one could get on a movie set). The driver stopped right in front of the doors and you thanked him, laughing at the parting joke he told you about a dog getting loose in the lot. You went up the first two steps for the trailer when the door swung open and you had to jump back to avoid being slammed into the wall with it. Someone came walking out with their head down, turning back to smile at someone else who had wished them goodluck from within the trailer. They paused when they finally noticed you, and you opened your mouth to say something but not a word came out. They smiled with a huff of a chuckle, and all you could think was that he was so much more beautiful in person than what any camera could capture. 

“I hope I didn’t whack you with the door,” he winced apologetically and you just took a deep breath in, shaking your head then breathing out quickly and laughing at yourself. 

“No, no, I just managed to avoid it,” you breathed out, giggling because your stomach was suddenly tingling and you couldn’t quite feel your hands (or maybe you could feel them too much). 

“Oh, good,” he nodded, “would not have been a good way to introduce myself. Cillian Murphy,” he held out his hand, smiling and polite, his eyes piercing through your skin. They were so bright, so blue. You blinked then kept staring into them as you brought your hand gently into his, hoping your grip wasn’t too limp nor too firm. 

“Y/n L/n, it is so nice to meet you. I’m sorry, I’m trying really hard to hide how starstruck I am and I think I’m failing,” you admitted, cheeks suddenly burning. You always talked when you were nervous, which meant you always overshared when you were nervous. But he just laughed, a deep chuckle that made his chest shake and drew your attention to it. He was broader than you, and wearing a cosy looking black sweater that you desperately wanted to push your face against and feel rub against your cheek. The sleeves had been pushed up to his elbows and you could see the round collar of a white t-shirt poking out at the neck. 

“Don’t worry, you were doing a good job so far, until you admitted it anyway,” he did that little huff-laugh again and you pressed a hand to your face, scrunching your eyes shut in shame at the bombardment of thoughts running through your head that made you feel brainless at the same time. 

“Alright, well then,” you laughed, shaking your head and stepping to the side so he could finally walk past you (which you thought he had wanted to do the entire time but was too polite to point out). “I’m sorry for keeping you trapped here, I’ll let you go wherever you need to go Mr. Murphy.” 

“Please, it’s Cillian,” he frowned in that way that said ‘don’t bother with such formality’, and waved the hand in the air that was carrying his script as if to bat the title away. 

“Right, sorry, Cillian,” and you smiled brightly because he was looking at you with those beautiful, beautiful, eyes, and watched him walk down the steps, wave back at you, run a hand through his hair that had been styled messily, and head for the door of the first building. 

When he had disappeared through the door, you slammed the heel of your hand against your forehead until it stung a little and made it feel like your brain had moved around in your head, grumbling “Mr. Murphy? Seriously? You’re an adult too, ya know? You can call people by their first names now, for fuck’s sake.” 

Cillian chewed on his lip as he sat in the foldable chair on set, waiting for everything else to be set up, his co-star to arrive, and the director to start dictating everything. He enjoyed these few minutes before filming, they helped him focus in on the set, get into the mind of his character, evaluate the situation and what would be needed from him. But he had a little extra time today, and he didn’t mind either because his mind was a little distracted. 

He didn’t think he had ever been called ‘Mr. Murphy’ by a co-star, and it made him laugh because it felt a little ridiculous, but it also made him wonder if you were just young or overly respectful. A quick google search told him you were younger, much younger, but didn’t necessarily answer the question. 

Regardless, he liked you, thus far anyway. He liked the way you looked, your hair was pretty and you had kind eyes, and you smelled nice, a soft flowery perfume. And he liked your voice too, a little loud sometimes, a little too quiet others, but it was nice. He hadn’t seen any of your movies, but he was feeling positive about you. Perhaps too positive, but he shut down that thought process with a snap. 

The makeup artist was best friends with the hairdresser and they were both some of the sweetest people you had ever met. They chatted with you the entire time, laughed at your story of embarrassing yourself in front of Cillian, comforted you that he was a nice, easygoing man who wouldn’t hold it against you, and offered you the little snacks they had lying around. Your hair was put into a simple braid, slicked down with pommade to control the flyaways you were plagued with, and the makeup was so natural you would question if you were wearing any if you hadn’t been there while she was rubbing and brushing the products onto your face. 

The costume designer had left some jewellery for you with them, and they helped you clasp the necklace and earrings while you rummaged in your bag for your script. The director had come in while your hair was being done and told you about some of the last-minute changes to the script and the scenes that were being filmed. The ‘first kiss’ scene was going to be filmed at the end of the day instead of in two weeks time because of scheduling complications and the intimacy coordinator would work with you and Cillian during the break at midday while they filmed some of the scenes that didn’t have either of you in them. You had simply nodded, you couldn’t have argued anyway, you didn’t have any authority here even if you had a lead role, and just told him you’d look over your script and mark it out. He had patted you on the shoulder with a smile and hurried back out and you had resisted the urge to press your face into your hands lest you ruin the makeup. 

Of course you were a little annoyed, you had been told to prepare for certain scenes and those were the scenes you had prepared for, but as you took deep breaths and rifled through the many pieces of advice your therapist had given you, you knew this wasn’t a problem to waste your feelings on. They would be lenient because of the last minute change, and if they weren’t originally then they would have to be because you weren’t a magician. A few deep breaths and reading your lines for the first scene you would be filming calmed you down and returned you to the necessary headspace for filming. 

You thanked both the makeup artist and hairdresser, then put in your headphones as you slowly walked toward the set. You needed to be in a sombre mood, needed to feel that apathy and sadness clawing at the edges of your mind. Your character was struggling, her life was falling apart and she felt like she had no solution, only minor escapes during her trysts with Jim, Cillian’s character. You tucked the script under your arm as you got to the set, taking out your earbuds and looking around for the director. You met eyes with Eva Birthistle who smiled widely and waved at you, excusing herself from the assistant director and walking over to you. 

“Hello, hello!” She hugged you tightly and you returned the greeting against her shoulder. 

Eva was the only member of the cast you had gotten to meet before filming began. One of your fittings had been at the same time as hers and you both had gotten to chatting about the movie. She was an absolute sweetheart, someone you could see as a mentor for yourself, and you were glad to see a familiar face on the set other than the director, a bonus that it was one as welcoming as hers. She wrapped her arm over your shoulder and led you over to the cluster of chairs behind the camera where Cillian was already seated, chatting with Andrew Scott. They both looked up and smiled at the two of you as you came and sat down on the remaining two chairs, Eva already engaging them in conversation. 

Looking at all of them sitting there, it hit you for the first time that you were the youngest person here, in both age and experience. These were all people who had done multiple movies in a variety of roles, had been acting by the time you were born, and had made names for themselves. A wave of shyness hit you that you scolded yourself for, your cheeks burning as you sat down and shook hands with Andrew. Thankfully, the wave didn’t last, because Eva and Andrew were chatty, and both ready to include you in the conversation. 

You were glad for this little moment, though it took you out of the headspace of the character you were trying to settle into. These were all people you would be acting closely with, yelling at or kissing on camera for the next few months, and the more comfortable you could get with them the better. 

Andrew was sweet, asking you questions about past jobs, the interview process, how you felt about your character, an endless supply of questions, jokes, and responses that made him an instant friend. Eva chimed in with her own stories and jokes, piling on top of his and making you laugh until your stomach hurt. Cillian was quieter, only speaking when directly spoken to or simply laughing along with the jokes, but his simple presence was enough for you to feel warm in your bones and excited at the prospect of acting with him. He was so nonchalant, so calm and focused but not deterrent or rude. While you seemed to learn a multitude about both Eva and Andrew, you learnt little about Cillian other than that he preferred living in Ireland to anywhere else. 

You thought maybe it was better that you didn’t get to know him too much. It would make the intimate scenes feel less personal, less intense. He genuinely was one of the most beautiful people you had ever seen and it was too easy for an actor to fall prey to the emotions of a scene in real life. You didn’t want to suddenly be sitting there after a sex scene wondering how similar it was to the real deal with him. You were here to do your job and nothing more. 

The conversation had quieted down as different checks were done on set and it was almost time for you all to convene with the director to get filming started. Cillian was reading quietly from his script, a pair of rectangular glasses with rounded edges and dark rims sat on his nose as he rubbed his index finger back and forth across his bottom lip. You watched him for a moment, the soft movement of his lips as he silently formed the words. Then the director was calling you all up and you felt like you were being snapped out of a trance you hadn’t known you had entered in the first place. 

“Alright, you guys have had a small dinner get-together at Jim and Danielle’s house. This is a sort of regular thing, every couple of weeks, maybe once a month, you have this dinner get-together. You’re all sitting at the dining table across from each other, picking at the final pieces of your meals. Jim and Danielle’s children are asleep upstairs and you guys are simply drinking wine and talking.” He walked you all over to the dining table and pointed out the seats, sitting you down first next to Eva before scrapping the idea and having you sit across from her and beside Andrew. Once you had all been assigned your seats, he turned to Eva and Cillian. 

“You two have been married for a long time, you have two children, you’re in a place in your lives where you believe you’re simply secure in your relationship, but if anyone pokes into this it’s fragile, and you’re not sure if you’re secure and still in love, or you’re just going through the motions of a life you have lived for a long time and don’t actually enjoy. You don’t question anything anymore, just go to work, come home, kiss each other, cook dinner, have a little chat before bed, and do it all over again, day by day.” Then he turned to you and Andrew. He looked at you for a moment before reaching out, pausing just before touching you and silently asking if it was alright. You nodded happily, and he gently pulled your braid to rest over one of your shoulders, moved the pendant on your necklace so it rested a little more to the left, and pulled one of your sleeves a little further down so just the edge of your bra strap was exposed. 

“You two have also been married for a while, but things are a little different. You married Chris right after graduating uni, most of your adult life has been married life. Chris is older, was already pushing forty when you guys got married. All of your friends are his age, mostly couple friends, and you’ve always felt pushed into this older, more mature role, that you don’t necessarily feel successful in. You lean on him quite a bit during these situations, deferring to him to answer difficult questions or when talking about your family life. Chris takes this in stride, it’s how it has always been in your relationship, even after years of marriage and a child. Chris is struggling silently recently, he’s easier to anger, feels a little distant, but honestly? You don’t even realise. You don’t know what he’s hiding, you don’t even know that he’s hiding anything. Andrew, the weight of the disease, hiding it from his family, all those private struggles, are always in the back of Chris’s mind, ok?” Both of you nodded and as you went to sit down at the table, he beckoned you and Cillian over to the side saying, “just a moment.” 

Cillian stood next to you with his arms crossed, the black sweater still pushed up to his elbows, and the edge just brushed against the skin of your arm. You shivered and stretched out your neck for a moment, a nervous tick, before returning your eyes to the director speaking in a low voice. 

“Alright, you two are sitting diagonally to each other at the table. You guys take the term ‘friends’ loosely. You’re friends because she’s friends with Danielle and you’re Danielle’s husband. You’re friends because you’re both couples who are friends, but you’ve never spoken to each other without your spouses in the room. Ok? But there is a little bit of intrigue, I guess. You glance at each other, not for long, just barely a look, or you meet eyes while one of you is talking to the group. I don’t want chemistry, I want the possibility of chemistry. Jim is laidback, especially compared to her husband. She’s pretty and young, especially compared to the other people at the table. I don’t want to notice anything between you yet, I want to come back and watch the movie one day in the future and suddenly notice that there’s something there, but too subtle to hint at the future affair. Ok?” You nodded as he spoke, feeling yourself settle into that focus you usually found just before filming, no more smile and twinkle in your eye. “Alright, break a leg,” and he was walking back to the cameras. You turned to Cillian for a second and he nodded at you, those eyes that you would never forget looking over your face for a moment before he headed for his seat at the table. You clenched your jaw for a second, staring at his back as he walked away, before shaking your head and holding it up high on your way to the table. 

“Alright, change costumes, change the lighting, we’re moving to the living room scene for the next couple of hours, I need the kids and Eva there, please. Cillian and Y/n, head down to studio three after changing, the intimacy coordinator is already there, you have a couple of hours to get it together before we start filming. Hop to it everyone!” 

You were happy to be moving on. Though you had been in films that took even longer for singular scenes, you were starting to feel stale in that environment and reverting to the exact same routine over and over. An assistant was quick to come up alongside you and direct you back to hair and makeup. 

“Your costume is already there, and once everything’s been changed, someone else will come get you to take you to studio three,” he told you, not once looking at you but rather at the clipboard in his hand filled with typed and handwritten notes. 

“Ok, thank you,” you nodded, watching the assistant nod goodbye before doubling back to find Cillian to relay the same information. You stood still and watched him for a moment, the glasses tucked into the neck of his sweater as he nodded at the assistant. 

The longer hair looked good on him, you thought. It was going a little grey in the places around his ears but you liked it more that way. His cheekbones cast shadows on his face in the dim light, but you could still see the faint freckles over his nose and the very light smattering he had on his neck. You could even see the freckles on his forearms and it made something warm bloom in your stomach. He looked up and directly at you. Those eyes… those eyes you could spend hours talking about, uncaring that you probably repeated yourself multiple times simply because of how beautiful they were. You smiled, something that could just barely be considered a smile with only the corners of your lips twitching up for barely a moment and your eyes fluttering, before turning away and walking out of the studio. 

You ended up changing in the corner of the hair and makeup trailer, both the women standing with their backs turned to you as they organised pins and palettes and chatted away. Your next costume was a set of oversized mauve-coloured pyjamas that felt a little too thin for your liking. You were a little relieved that it was only the first kissing scene being filmed. You had read the entire script twice over, and you knew about the other scenes to come that required a lot more of you. You had only ever filmed one ‘intimate’ scene before, and even that had only been a rather simple kissing scene. While this scene was definitely more than that, it didn’t feel as big of a leap on the first day simply because it cut off after the kiss. 

Your hair was let down from its braid, mussed up with the hairdresser’s hands and sprayed with hairspray. All your makeup was wiped off before they went to work again. Dabs of eyeshadow in strategic places made your eyes look slightly puffy, like you just woke up from a haggard sleep. Purple under eyes appeared out of nowhere and the faintest bruise was brought to life on your right cheekbone. Little dabs of red on your lips made them look bitten and your nails were chopped roughly to look like you had been chewing on them on and off. Again, you thanked the women and in a simple pair of slippers made your way outside to meet with the assistant responsible for guiding you to studio three. 

It looked like a school drama studio on the inside, with blackout curtains hung all the way around, a black linoleum floor and big wood blocks wrapped in fuzzy material pushed to the edges of the room. You would have taken your shoes and socks off outside the room out of habit if you had known what it looked like on the inside. You smiled to yourself at the thought, before quickly shuffling over to where Cillian stood talking to two women who looked like the opposites of each other. One was dressed in plain white pants, a white blouse tucked neatly into said pants, and a cream coloured cardigan. The other wore a poncho-style dress that fluttered as she moved her arms and was covered in dizzying bohemian patterns. Ten necklaces were draped over her chest, anything from chains to rope, and she had a bandana neatly wrapped to keep her hair out of her face. 

“Hi! I hope I’m not late!” You called, stopping just beside Cillian and smiling at the two women who looked old enough to be your grandmothers (the realisation that you would be making out with someone right in front of them was not a pleasant one). 

“Not at all, we were just talking about boundaries,” Poncho Lady told you warmly, reaching out to shake your hand. The one in the cardigan followed suit, though she was quieter, and you simply smiled brightly at both of them before waiting for instruction.

“Alright, give your scripts here and just stand in front of each other.” Poncho Lady gently pried the script from your hand, took your tote bag from your shoulder, and set them both down on one of the wood blocks Cardigan Lady had pulled over. “Ok, so we’re just here to make sure you don’t feel uncomfortable doing this scene, that no one pushes past any hard boundaries, and to make it seem natural without being unprofessional. Now, before you get to it, is there any place on your body that you would be uncomfortable with your partner touching?” You shook your head and watched Cillian mimic the reaction. 

Awkwardness was cloying at the back of your neck and you desperately wanted to open your mouth and make a stupid comment about how it would just look weird in the movie if he grabbed you between the legs anyway, and it took every ounce of your willpower to keep your mouth shut. “Alright! Let’s get started then! We’ll interrupt when needed.” You turned to fully face Cillian, tilting your head back slowly when you realised how close he was standing. He was still wearing the same jeans and sweater, but the shirt underneath had been changed to a black one, the neck perpetually poking out. 

You dipped your head down again, pressing your hand to your face as you began rambling about how stupid you were and how insane it was for you to be asking him to have an affair with you. Your eyes were squeezed so tight you could see white flashes on the backs of your eyelids. Then, gently, he was interrupting you, voice low as he told you that it was fine, everything was fine, you did nothing wrong, he completely understood, you were tired, emotional after everything. But you kept berating, spitting out words about how he was so good looking and so loyal and you were you, a horrible friend and obviously never a second thought on his mind. And then he was cutting you off, rambling in return about how you’re a beautiful woman, and he can’t lie that he hasn’t thought about you, he’s a man who can appreciate beauty after all. But he could see that you weren’t calming down, could see you slowly folding in on yourself in your panic. Then he was grabbing your hand. Gentle, soft fingers wrapping around your wrist, skin warm and making your own feel tingly. You took a deep breath, your chest visibly shaking, and he brought his other hand to your chin, slowly tilted your head back up to look him in the eye with his fingertips. You blinked, eyes big and wide, and he pressed your hand to his chest, covering it with his own. 

The sweater was so soft under your fingertips, and you desperately wanted it for yourself. His palm was warm on top of yours, warm and firm and unrelenting. You tuned into the sensation of his heart, a wild beating, and your face changed to just hint at concern. 

“Can you feel that?” He asked, voice so low it was almost a whisper. 

“It’s racing,” you breathed out, flexing your fingers against his chest so they caught a bit more of the material of his sweater. 

“Yeah,” he huffed out with a smile, and you moved just a little closer, reaching down to grab his other hand and pressing it to your own chest. His fingertips were a little cold, and your entire body shivered, a small sound leaving your lips. Your fingers were slightly threaded with his, and you pressed his palm to the place where your collar split away and exposed your chest. His hand covered so much of your chest, his pinky and index dipping under the fabric, and was so gentle on its own that you pressed it more firmly against the skin. You wanted his fingerprints imprinted on your skin. He breathed out shakily, almost loudly, and your next breath mimicked it as you closed your eyes. It was so hot in the room.

Both of you stood there feeling each other’s heartbeats for a moment, his head dipped lower so your foreheads almost touched. You were standing so close you could feel each other’s breaths against your lips and the sides of your noses just brushed every so often. He gulped, licking his lips as sweat began to build on the back of his neck and the need to rip the sweater off was soaring in priority in his mind. Your lips just brushed each other, cupid's bows just grazing- 

“Alright, so that’s where you say ‘feel my breast’ and begin guiding his hand under your shirt,” Poncho Lady interjected, looking up from the script in her hands. 

You let go of Cillian’s hand and stepped back quickly. It felt like stepping into an air conditioned room from a hot sunny day outside. Your insides were still warm, and the heat that had been tinging your skin hadn’t completely gone away, but you were more awake, more aware. You licked your lips and gave a small smile that you hoped didn’t betray the sudden embarrassment falling upon you. 

You had been in the scene, you had been lost in it. There had been times before when you were acting and when stopped abruptly felt like you were suddenly reentering your body, like your soul had been extracted for a few moments into a different person and then quickly pulled back and thrust into its original form. But this was a different level. This had been you and not you at the same time. You had been doing those things, had wanted to do those things, but you were also being controlled by something outside yourself, being told to do those things. You quietly excused yourself, saying you had left your water bottle in the hair and makeup trailer and would just quickly run and get it. As you turned back one last time at the door, you watched Cillian run a hand through his hair and smile at Poncho Lady as if nothing had happened since he had walked into the room. 

After the door closed behind you, Cillian happened to glance at your tote bag on the block, and saw your water bottle peaking out. He laughed quietly to himself as he sat down next to it. 

He understood how you were feeling. Intimate scenes were always hard, regardless of how many times an actor has done it. Especially intimate scenes when two people have palpable chemistry. If Poncho Lady hadn’t interrupted, he would have kissed you right then. 

Usually kisses between actors were saved for only when they were filming, but he had been lost in that scene, lost in you. Your eyes, teary and pained and so big, were so authentic that it had been easy to fall into his role, the saviour, the anchor. And as you guys had stepped closer and closer, and his senses were bombarded so much, he had lost himself more and more. Your perfume from earlier had worn off, but your skin smelt so good, like cocoa butter body wash. 

From his line of sight, he could see a sliver of your neck where your hair had fallen behind your shoulder. In the moment a sudden, impulsive thought had flashed in his mind, the intense need to lean down and press his mouth to your neck, to kiss it and let his tongue just poke out and drag over the skin. He could even see it now as he sat and waited for you to return, the place where your neck joined your head and the skin went up to behind your ear. He closed his eyes and let himself linger there. 

Then the scene moved on and so did the little movie in his mind. Your hand in his, so soft and gentle as it settled against his chest. Then his hand in yours, your fingertips slightly sweaty and shaking. For a moment he had considered letting his hand stay limp, wanting to see how you would manage to drag the weight of his arm, but that was another intrusive thought that had to be pushed away. 

The skin on your chest was firm but with how firmly you held his hand against it he could feel the slight give of your flesh. His finger had just barely stroked your collarbone as his hand had rested there and he had wanted to move his hand so much more, to so many other places. Up to your neck to feel the soft skin there, to see if he could make you do that full-body shiver again. Down to your breasts, to the delicate skin stretched over them and then to cup them, to feel the weight of them in his hands. 

Cillian opened his eyes and took your water bottle in his hands, opening it and drinking from it as you came back into the room. You looked directly at him and he smiled at the wide-eyed, almost scandalised, look you gave him. He brought the bottle down and screwed the cap back on, putting it right-way up on the block for you to clearly see. He could see a little flush in your cheeks, and watched you rub the tips of your ears with a mischievous smile. 

Poncho and Cardigan Lady didn’t even notice that you returned without a water bottle. 

The intimacy coordinators only made you rehearse the scene two more times before letting you go. They said you both seemed comfortable enough, that you understood what the other person was and wasn’t comfortable with and you were left to your own devices. You left without a glance back and told an assistant you would be heading back to your trailer. She nodded, telling you that someone would come get you for touch ups on your makeup in an hour, and then you walked the entire way back to the makeshift trailer park. 

You only got about fifteen minutes on your own before someone was knocking on the door. You had washed all the makeup off, reasoning that you could simply head back early on your own and give them the time to do it all over again. As you walked, you tied your hair up in a ponytail, awkwardly opening the door with one hand. Cillian smiled politely up at you, arms crossed over his chest and you simply stared at him with wide eyes, blinking stupidly. 

“Hi,” his smile was jovial and infectious, but the one you offered in return felt forced. You felt so awkward around him now, as if you had violated some trust by being so caught up in the moment. “I thought we could walk around a little bit, get to know each other. I think it helps a little bit when filming roles like these.” You paused, fidgeting with the door handle. 

You had really wanted to take a nap, to reset yourself before filming the scene all over again. But this was such an enticing invitation. And maybe it would help you push past all this awkwardness. Maybe getting to know the other actor was better than not knowing. Maybe feeling connected worked better because you had more to think about, more defence in the moment. 

You nodded, holding up your finger for him to wait a moment so you could put your sneakers on and deposit your slippers in your tote bag. He waited patiently, leaning against the outside of the trailer while thumbing through the script. You hopped down the steps and waited for him to take the first stride before following alongside him, taking a winding path back up to the studios. 

“What do you keep in this all-important tote bag?” He asked, eyes squinting in the sun as he teasingly tugged on one of the straps. 

“Oh, heh, just little on-set essentials. Phone, headphones, little snack,” you paused, “my water bottle,” you added quietly, pursing your lips as you watched his smile widen. 

“That’s quite a nice idea, I should think about getting my own,” he nodded as he spoke, and you just smiled. Both of you walked for a little bit without saying anything, and just as the urge to open your mouth and spew out whatever comment happened to be on the tip of your tongue became almost unbearable, Cillian spoke again. “Have you filmed scenes like this before?” He asked, and you knew there were other questions behind it, insinuations. You felt embarrassed all over again, wrapping your arms around yourself and looking straight ahead to the path you were walking. 

“Um, once. And it wasn’t even this intense. I was working on this show, a supporting role with a romantic storyline. I was working with Tom Glynn-Carney?” He let out a little ‘ah’ nodding his head in recognition, muttering a ‘good lad’. “Yeah, it was really small, like a chaste ‘this guy has been my boyfriend for the past two years and I’m just leaving for work’ kind of kiss.” He laughed at that, genuine and melodic, as he looked at the floor and shook his head before looking up to the sky like he was exasperated with your silliness. “And Tom’s really sweet so it went really well, but this has a lot more expectation on it. It feels like going from the kids' pool to the deep end.” You chose to leave out the fact that his very good looks and insane acting abilities made it that much more difficult. 

Both of you paused for a moment, turning to each other in the late afternoon light. He stared at you and you wrapped your arms around yourself again, suddenly feeling like you were exposed to the elements. Slowly, he reached up and pressed the tip of his index finger to your cheek just under your eye. You stared at him, at his lips as he breathed in, and the moment was so slow, so natural, that for a moment you considered stepping forward and kissing him. But someone hit fast-forward again and he pulled back, holding up his finger to you. 

“I’m sorry, you had an eyelash,” he explained. “Make a wish,” he whispered, holding it close to your lips and you waited a beat, looking into his eyes as you leaned closer and blew the little eyelash away. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You turned and began walking quickly, a rain of dread suddenly drizzling onto your shoulders. Maybe it was a premonition, maybe it was delusion, but something told you that all these moments were leading to something and you wouldn’t necessarily come out of it for the better. 

You pressed his hand to your chest, breathing in slowly and looking into his eyes as if everything you’ve ever wanted was held there. His fingers flexed, just slightly, and you began to move it down, dipping it under the edge of the pyjama shirt. 

“Feel my breast,” you whispered, guiding his hand into your shirt until you could feel it searing the flesh of your breast. He was breathing heavily now, chest shaking as he pressed even closer to you, moving his head so his nose lightly brushed your nose. You tilted your head up further so your lips were aligned and only a little move was necessary to connect them. You looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, thoughts racing, trying to decipher what the other person was thinking but also knowing exactly the thoughts that rain through their head, peaking themselves out into their eyes. And then he was kissing you, mouth slightly open, pressing your bottom lip between his. You moved the hand on his chest up to cup the side of your neck, steadying yourself as he gripped onto your chest and devoured your mouth. And his tongue was in your mouth, delving in and pressing to yours, and you couldn’t breathe but you didn’t want to either and his thumb was pressing against your nipple and your entire body was tingling and- 

“Cut! That was perfect, guys!” 

You pulled away slowly, so so slowly. Your lips still stuck to his a little as you moved away. His hand was almost lethargic in its pace to snake out of your shirt, and you moved your own down from his neck to his chest before bringing it back down to your side. You were both breathing heavily, glancing away from each other then back, away then back before you finally turned away and walked off the set toward the chairs and cameras. You licked your lips as you walked, trying to savour the taste of him. 

The director let you all go for the evening, telling you he’d see you all bright and early on the other side of the studio lot for the ‘second meeting’ scene. You hauled your tote bag over your shoulder and practically ran to the golf cart. You spent the entire ride with your eyes closed. 

You didn’t bother eating dinner, just did your night routine and lay down on the bed. There was a little window in the bed area covered with blinds that had been left unfolded. Yellow light from somewhere on the lot was shining in through the cracks but you couldn’t be bothered to move them. You lay in a state between sleep and wakefulness until midnight. Your brain was buzzing with too many thoughts but you were too tired to think through them. 

Five minutes past one, and there was a knock at your trailer door, three soft thuds. You shifted on the bed, lifting your head up slightly to listen for another one. It came, the person was trying to be quiet, and you slowly slid out of bed. You tiptoed to the door and only opened it an inch. Cillian stood directly in front of the trailer, so close to the door that if you opened it wider he would basically be inside. He was wearing a plain white round-neck shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants, his hands shoved into the pockets. His hair was still relatively neat, which meant he hadn’t gone to bed yet, and you suddenly felt self-conscious, patting down the back of your head as you blinked up at him. He smiled, a small thing that didn’t reach his eyes, and you opened the door a little wider, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie down so they wrapped over your fingertips. 

“Can I come in?” He asked quietly, low and serious. You nodded, moving back and letting him close the door behind himself.

You both stood in the little space between the kitchenette and the door. You felt fully awake now, but everything in the world was still. There was pin-drop silence and you two simply looked at each other. Then he was moving forward, slowly, one step at a time, until he was standing as close to you as he was when you were both filming earlier, maybe even closer. 

Every breath you took made your chest brush his. You could feel your nipples tightening and pushing against your hoodie. He brought both of his hands up to cup your head on either side, then leaned down and kissed you firmly. It was slow, a little pull back and then he was pushing in, kissing you again. Everything inside you was slowly heating up, like a saucepan set on a low fire. Your limbs were filling up with it, there was a lump at the back of your throat, and your core was slowly tightening into itself. Your hands shook and you lifted them to press into his sides, clenching your hands into the soft material of his t-shirt. He kissed you again and again until you were heaving your breaths in and leaning your upper body onto his. 

Cillian pulled away and looked at you, a pause as if waiting or asking, and you simply pointed behind you at the little hallway that led to the bedroom. He nodded, just one little movement of his head tipping down, then he pulled away, grasping your hand in his and walking you both to the little bed area. 

The blinds were still spilling orangey-yellow light into the room, and he simply sat you on the bed before turning around to adjust them so they were closed a little tighter but still let small slits of light into the room. Then he got on his knees right in front of you, pushing himself forward so he was between your legs and your knees pressed into his ribs. You were taking deep breaths in, staring at him with parted lips as he brushed your hair away from your face and kissed you once. 

Everything felt so… small. The room was only the space you two inhabited, your breaths were his breaths, your eyes only looking into his eyes, your lips only existing to kiss his. His fingers gently burrowed under the fabric of your hoodie and began lifting it up. He waited for you to raise your arms then slowly removed each of your sleeves, dropping it into a heap next to himself. You were only wearing a bra underneath it, and he lightly caressed your stomach, watching you shudder out breaths at the sensation. He reached up with his other hand and slid one of the bra straps down your shoulder, touching the little mark it had left behind before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to it. Then the other strap was shifted down, another kiss on your shoulder. Your mouth was dry, your hands shaking. You wanted him to consume you. 

You reached out and lightly tugged on the collar of his shirt. He instantly leaned back and took it off, exposing pale skin and softly defined muscles. Each ridge was gentle, like the artist had painstakingly smudged out any harsh lines. You wanted to feel his body pressing down on top of you. 

He gently tugged your shorts down your legs, waiting patiently for you to lean back and lift your hips up so he could get them off. His right hand moved to splay over your stomach, gently pressing until you were laying flat on your back while his left hand lifted your legs to rest over his shoulders. He slowly pulled you forward until the small of your back was curved to the edge of the bed and all the weight of your lower body was on his shoulders. He looked up at you once, bright blue eyes so shiny in the dim light that you wanted to stop and take a picture. But you only breathed out a little shuddering moan as he pressed his lips against your pussy, poking his tongue out and gently licking between the folds. You clenched your eyes shut, one arm thrown carelessly above your head as you bit down on your other hand. 

It was warm and wet and hot. The room felt humid and your skin burned. His lips were so soft, his tongue skillful, and your hips rolled with every movement, warm tendrils of pleasure moving in waves through your body. He licked until your thighs were messy and you could feel his cheeks stick to the insides. He pressed the tip of his tongue inside you until the pressure at your entrance was making you convulse and the sounds leaving your lips were a little too loud for your own liking. You bit so hard into your hand that you were sure your teeth marks would be there the following morning and let your body quiver on the bed as he pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

You could see his chest heaving up and down and you pushed up to lean on your elbows, watching him push the sweatpants off his hips before draping himself over you. You closed your eyes and fell back onto the bed, letting him spread your legs and drape them over his hips. When he pushed into you, you curled around him. Your legs tightened around his waist, your arms wrapped around his torso and you pressed your face into his shoulder, muffled sounds spilling from your lips and into his skin. You could hear him panting directly by your ear, feel the wet breaths against the shell of your ear as he turned his head to nip at it. He began moving, backwards and forwards, pull and push, drag and rub. You pushed your hips up against him, a little ‘unh’ sound pushing from your chest when the little space below his belly button pressed perfectly against your clit. 

You lost yourself in the pleasure. Time didn’t exist in that space, only the feeling of your insides climbing up, reaching for something that would make stars burst behind your eyes. It was the feeling of the bed sheets rubbing against your skin, the clasp of your bra pressing into your back. It was his skin sticking to yours, your hands digging into his back, his lips on your cheek, behind your ear. It was the sounds of your hips meeting, soft consistent thumps that slowly began to increase in speed. 

And then you were there. The moment where everything was just right. When the weight of him inside you and the press against your clit lined up perfectly. When his lips were pressed against your cheek and somewhere a star aligned in the universe. It was like warm flowers blooming inside your stomach, so brightly it was almost painful. You clenched around him, pressed your knees to his ribs as tight as they would go. You clenched your teeth tightly together but pressed your mouth to his shoulder so all the sounds came out muffled and weird, high pitched from the back of your throat or deep from the pit of your stomach. 

He groaned when he finished, hands gripping your hips so tightly you felt them even after he let go. His eyes were scrunched shut and when his hips convulsed a few times he almost hissed at the sensation. He quickly pulled out, falling down right beside you. Neither of you moved for a long while. 

When your joints finally felt like they would no longer fall apart if you moved, you slowly turned to lay on your side. He was already looking at you, eyes soft and tracing over every feature of your face. He reached out, blunt fingertips gently brushing hair off of your forehead and cheeks. He stroked one with his thumb, then moved forward to press the gentlest, most loving kiss against your lips. You kept your eyes closed even when he pulled away. 

He was gone when you woke up in the morning. You thought you dreamed it for a moment, the most vivid dream you had ever had in your life. But you were naked under the blanket, and you never remembered pulling it up from the edge of the bed so someone had tucked you in. Your hoodie and shorts were folded and placed on the tiny nightstand beside the bed, and your blinds were fully closed. When you shifted to get out of bed, you could still feel the way fingertips had pressed into your thighs and a soft soreness throbbing between your legs. Not a dream. 

But then everything felt weird when you left the trailer. You didn’t see Cillian until you were on set for filming and he was busy with the director until ‘action!’ was called. You followed him after ‘cut!’ but he only sat and watched the scene over or read from his script. He smiled politely at you, gave you a wave when he caught you looking, but made no special effort to come over to you. 

You felt off-kilter the entire day, like a joke was being pulled on you but you couldn’t figure out what it was. But then, as you curled up in your bed after sunset, watching the sky darken through the window, he knocked on your door again. And you let him in, let him kiss you and take you to bed. And in the dead of night he wrapped you up in the bed sheets, whispering little jokes, telling stories, watching you like you were precious. And then the cycle started all over again the next day. 

You reasoned with yourself. You guys were still at work, you needed to be professional on set, and it seemed to explain everything away. He snuck into your bed at night, wrapped his arms around you and kissed you, coaxed you into sleep eventually, but never in the daylight. Not even a touch other than the ones on camera. 

You couldn’t feel yourself getting attached, couldn’t see yourself manoeuvring your life around him until you knew you would beg for him to just take your hand in the daytime once, let you call him your man. You came when he called, followed where he went. You didn’t realise until you were devoted, didn’t realise until the willow had bent to the wind.

Taglist: @4ria790

[diremoone]

cherry on top.

fushiguro toji x reader

in which your boyfriend of the last three years treats you to a birthday that he thinks you more than deserve :D

w — no curses AU, implied! Rich! Toji, a grain of angst, hair length isn’t specified but it’s enough to make a small bun, mentions of chubby! MC, and the hope that the fluff rots your teeth 🤭 not the best thing ever written by my hands but I love it anyway

a/n: happy birthday to me! this would’ve been out sooner today but I got a lil bit sick 😷 i’m unfortunately another year older but maybe another year closer to finding the man that’ll treat me like toji does mc in this fic haha. enjoy y’all’s reverse-birthday present lmao. this is a lil bit of self-indulgence btw so if it flops that’s why (but hopefully you guys like it too). I also tried to do accurate research on irl locations of the places that are mentioned, so I’m sorry if something isn’t correct 🙈

You don’t like the shake on your shoulder that wakes you up, nor the soft whisper of your name dropping from your boyfriend’s lip. You like it even less when you open your (very notably) tired eyes and look at the clock and see what time it is.

“What the fuck, Toji?”

He grins at your mumbled swears. “Happy birthday, cupcake.”

You know for a fact you have junk in your eyes, your hair’s a mess, your breath is borderline rancid and needs brushing, and that you overall look (and feel) like you just crawled out of a sewer completely deprived of sleep. So how this wonderful man squats beside the bed and combs his large fingers through your hair and gets his face so close to yours to attempt to kiss you is beyond your comprehension.

You cover your lips with the blanket, making him chuckle.

“Let’s celebrate, yeah?” Toji says, then stands to his full height. That’s when you notice that he’s dressed in regular clothes. “Gotta show my woman how much she means to me, don’t I?”

You quickly pull the blanket over your head to try and diminish his efforts. “If you wanna show me how much you love me, then let me sleep all day.”

Toji laughs as you snuggle into the pillow under your head. But the more you dig your cheek into the pillow, the farther away your ability to fall back asleep seems to be. You dig your nose into the soft material and let out a heavy sigh, hoping he doesn’t hear.

He’s won. “Come on. I’ll help you get out of bed and get ready, if that’s what it takes.” And when he chuckles after, you know he knows he’s won.

Toji lifts you by your outstretched hand to get you sitting on the edge of the bed, then proceeds to do the little things to get you ready that make your desperately-tired-but-desperately-in-love heart turn to mush.

Toji turns the sink on to get it warm so you can clean your teeth and face. Once you’re done, you realize he’s already got clothes already waiting for you to change into (one of his shirts that’s super baggy on you and a pair of red-pink floral leggings) on the bed. And once you change, he’s got your hairbrush in his big hands. He slowly combs his thick fingers through your hair, gently untangling the knots and brushing them out with minimal effort and pain.

You admit you nearly fall asleep again to his touch without shame.

“Don’t fall back into sleep,” Toji’s deep voice rumbles, which only soothes you further. “The day hasn’t even started yet.”

“You’re right,” you reply, yawning loudly. “It’s not even dawn yet.”

“Daybreak will be here when we get to the car,” he comments.

“Nice way of saying I’m slow,” you mumble.

Toji chuckles as he ties your hair into a bun, the stray baby locks being too short and left to dangle by your cheeks. He takes your smaller hand into his, and you still can’t help but feel flustered knowing how much bigger and warmer his hand is in comparison to yours is (read: you can’t help but feel flustered knowing you have someone holding your hand so sweetly with a hand as big as Toji’s).

There’s a small breeze when you step outside. And sure enough, Toji’s assumption is correct: the sun is starting to break over the horizon by the time you walk out to the car.

“Told you so,” Toji jokes.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but grin, too. “Shut up.”

He opens the car door for you like a gentleman, to which you feel your cheeks warm up in embarrassment.

When he starts the car and grips the wheel, it’s then he asks, “Where do you want to go for breakfast?”

You immediately know where you want to go. And you feel you know Toji knows, too. It’s been a place you’ve only been to twice because of how expensive it was, but it has the best waffles you’ve ever tasted. The thing about it though was, if you went, there wasn’t going to be a way for you to control your appetite.

You look to Toji, lips in a straight line as you internally debate with yourself.

“You have to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t laugh at how much I order.”

Toji chuckles at that, to which you send him a playful glare. He holds his hands up in mock surrender, the scarred corner of his lip quirking up.

“I promise.”

“Or how I eat.”

“I’ve seen how you eat, don’t worry.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Toji takes you to the fancy breakfast-only restaurant you murmur in embarrassment under your breath. And you were right: he already knows. Because the place was where you originally met—Toji’s umpteenth time with Megumi, while it was your second and last time.

Until today.

“You want me to take you here more often?” Toji asks.

You have a mouthful of syrupy waffles shoved into your mouth when he asks. You can’t help but feel embarrassed over the sudden focus on you while your cheeks are stuffed and puffed up like a chipmunk. But you nod anyway, slowly chewing the waffles and swallowing them.

“Don’t slow down on my accord,” Toji adds.

“You’re gonna make me fat,” you accuse jokingly.

Toji shrugs. And when that damned smirk appears on his face, you know he’s fixing to say something you aren’t gonna like.

“So what? You look good with rolls. More for me to love and grab during-”

“SHUSH!” you whisper-scream, eyes bulging out in hopes no one around you heard what he was implying.

The buff man only chuckles and smiles wider, happy with making you as flustered as he has.

You both end up stuffing a gut (on Toji’s even more overstuffed wallet) on the breakfast food before you two move on. Whatever he has planned next has you two driving for a good while after breakfast, which eventually leads you to ask, “Where to now?”

“To Narita.”

“Why?”

“To do one of the things you do the least,” he replies with a smirk.

You go blank. You admit to yourself you have no idea what he’s talking about. You try and think on it, and when he pulls into the Aeon Mall, a small lightbulb appears over your head. You look at him incredulously, while Toji looks extremely proud of himself.

“You’re taking me shopping?”

“Surprise.”

You belt out a small laugh. Of course. Of course this man would take you shopping. Of course he would do something that you felt so uncomfortable doing.

Shopping for yourself hadn’t been something you did for yourself often. Or really at all; only when you really needed to.

After being financially strapped for most of your life, from childhood until recently, you hadn’t spent much on yourself. You didn’t treat yourself to the finer things in life, even when you could’ve. And it left you empty, without a desire to be kind or do things for yourself. It left your birthday without luster, hollow, and without purpose, which led to you being so… uncaring about the day.

The day Toji, unknowingly to you, loved the most. Because it brought you into this world, into his and Megumi’s life. He’d be damned if he was going to let you act like it was just another day of the year.

Fuck that. His bank account was more than big enough to treat his woman to a proper birthday that she more than deserved.

Those thoughts were only reaffirmed by the bug-eyed, awestruck look on your face, your pretty eyes lighting up with a childlike wonder he’d only seen less than the amount of fingers on his right hand. He loved seeing it.

Oh yeah, he was going to spoil the fuck out of you.

You turn to him, mouth ajar with a twinkle in your eyes. But something crossed over your face for a split second—an emotion he knew too well: guilt.

“Toji…”

Fuck. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one little bit. Not the look that crossed your face, even for a second, not the sound of your voice as you called out to him. He wasn’t going to let your goody-two-shoes, guilty-feeling heart spoil his goal of reigniting your appreciation for your own birthday. Nope.

Toji wraps an arm around your waist and presses a sweet peck against the top of your head. “Don’t even try and do that shit—feeling guilty and all that. You ain’t taking advantage, woman. Now go shop. I ain’t got these big arms for nothing.”

“You aren’t my sugar daddy, you know,” you reply, brows raised with lips quirked up in amusement.

“No, I’m not. I’m a rich man that loves his woman and wants her to have the best birthday she’s had in years and take a massive chunk outta my bank account,” he boldly retorts. He grins that familiar, shit-eating grin, dips his head and neck and presses his lips against your cheek, and drags you forward, deeper into the mall. You can only help but throw your head back and laugh.

You spend several good, long-ass hours in the mall; a few hours pass what is considered lunchtime before you two do enough shopping that you both have to go back outside to the car to pack it with what has been bought before you can even think about getting anything to eat.

“What do you want for lunch?” Toji asks, stretching his burly arms before leaning against the car.

Your reply is instant, “KFC.”

Toji snorts, chuckling. He interlaces his thick fingers between yours and leads you both back inside.

Another few hours are spent buying clothes, a fluffy blanket you eyeballed and Toji was going to buy no matter how much you told him to put it back, and a few plushies of some of your favorite Pokémon. On the way home, Toji surprises you again by going to Mister Donut and practically taking half of what the store had. You died laughing in the car afterward because some of the other customers got offended as they watched him take so much.

“Toji, you shouldn’t have taken so much,” you giggle behind your hand as lean back against the door. “You seemed like an asshole.”

He smirks, holding the wheel with one hand and using the other to pinch your cheek.

“Don’t give a shit,” he laughs. You playfully swat at his hand. “You said you wanted donuts earlier, so you’ll get some donuts.”

“I didn’t mean the entire store.”

“Shoulda been more specific then.” Toji winks and the smirk on his face grows even wider.

The sky is painted beautiful oranges, pinks, and blues by the time you arrive home. The sun is setting beneath the horizon, under the green land and leaving behind the lights of the city and glitter of the stars dancing in the darkening sky to light the world. For some reason, it’s more… breathtaking than you remembered. You’d often spend time outside as the sun set, thinking nothing of it.

Maybe it was because of today.

Your eyes flicker to your boyfriend and the massive muscles of his arms bulging against the black shirt as he takes everything you’ve bought inside, and you can’t help the flutter in your stomach and the quickening pace of your heart.

Maybe it was because of Toji, and him making your birthday the most special it’s felt in years.

The smile that makes your lips go from ear to ear doesn’t go unnoticed by the black-haired man when he comes back outside. Nor does the sniffle and the backs of your hands wiping away at tears sliding down your cheeks. It makes Toji’s lips pull into a slight frown. This isn’t what he was expecting. Nor what he wanted to see.

He slides an arm around your shoulders, tugging you to his muscled chest.

“You ain’t supposed to be crying, baby,” he mumbles, big hands rubbing circles on your back to soothe you. “Come on. I’m going to start dinner. Shouldn’t be cryin’, sweetheart.”

“I know,” you mumur back, burrowing yourself deeper into his comfort, “but I’m not sad. Thank you Toji. Today has been the best birthday ever.” You stand on your tiptoes and press a sweet kiss to his cheek. “I love you.”

He stills, eyes widened slightly in surprise. You don’t make anything of it until the moment comes where you try and break free of his hold moments later and he doesn’t budge. Your brows furrow, and just as you’re about to ask him if he was okay, he cusses under his breath.

“Fuck it. Megumi can be the ring bearer.”

What he says doesn’t click until he gets down on one knee and pops open a small emerald green box, with a heart-shaped diamond ring nestled inside of it. Your mouth drops open and you feel eyes burn with more tears.

“[Name]—”

“What the actual fuck?”

You both laugh. Toji’s head drops as he sniggers at your foul language upon him getting on one knee; you laugh at yourself, at the reaction that came out of your lips faster than your brain could process.

“I don’t deserve you,” you whisper out, holding back a flood of tears.

“Nah, I’m the one that don’t deserve you. You’re fucking perfect. Who wouldn’t want you?”

You don’t deserve him, but he wants you anyway. Holy shit. This was really happening, wasn’t it? Were you about to say ‘yes’ and have a fiancé? Eventually become a married woman and help your to-be husband raise the sweetest, most adorable boy you’ve ever met? (It’s not like you aren’t already. You’ve heard him call you ‘Mama’ once through a phone call. Toji tried covering it up with a cough; you haven’t brought it up since.)

Toji clears his throat, regaining your attention. When you look down at him again though, he seems more nervous—all his moxie down the drain.

“So… Marry me?”

Your hands cup his cheeks and press your lips to his. He wraps his free arm around your waist, tilts his head to the side slightly and deepens the kiss.

You love him. You absolutely love him. There’s no doubt in your mind that you love him and your heart belongs to him. There’s no one but him by your side in the future you see. Every inch of you belongs to him, and he wants to belong to you just as much.

So, you pull from the kiss and whisper against his lips, “Let’s get married, baby.”

“Fuck yeah.”

You yell out in surprise as he picks you up with one big, strong arm and takes you inside. You wrap your legs around his waist in reaction, desperate to not fall.

But you know Toji wouldn’t ever let you fall. Not in a million years.

“Wanna go to the bedroom first?”

“You horny motherfucker.”

“Only for you.”

“Just put that ring on my finger and cook.”

He sets you on the counter like you’re porcelain. He takes the glimmering ring from the little box and slides it onto your ring finger. A perfect fit. You hadn’t even told him your ring size. His eyes are trained on it for several seconds before he mumbles, “Belongs right there.”

Whatever dessert he makes tonight, nothing will top this moment. This is the cherry on top to the sweetest birthday you’ve ever had. If whatever you went through was to get you here, to meet the man who’s the love of your life, you’d do it all over again.

@heresan here’s the birthday fic 🤭 i’ll get back to you vv soon, the last two days have been wild 👀

[landoom]

My POV about things- I agree that Oscar hasn’t done anything particularly egregious other than be a racing driver.

I just think he’s not great off of it. 🤷‍♀️

(I’m not saying this to be a hater. Im not trying to come to your own page and be a dick lmao. Soooo many drivers can be and have been assholes. )

I’m only saying it because lots of us are just unimpressed with Oscar’s attitude in general and I think yesterday was kind of a tipping point in what we’ve already felt about Oscar’s off track actions or non actions.

And therefore that’s where a lot of the animosity towards Oscar is coming from.

I hope this makes sense! Again not trying to hate on Oscar, just point outing out that some of the more harsh takes aren’t actually about the overtake.

My personal opinions about Oscar and Lando aside, McLaren’s the one who has created the mess. 🤦‍♀️

Let me answer you in a general way before going over to Oscar in particular.

Everyone can love or don't like the driver they want. I don't want to convince everyone that my favourites are the best. As long as it doesn't devolve into hate or unprompted criticism, let's all have different favourites!

I think that the way we judge a driver is tainted when he's racing against one of our favourite. My personal example is Fernando. I really disliked him when he was racing against Michael or Kimi. My views of him really softened later on. So I can understand that fans of Lando can have a hard time liking Oscar.

Regarding Oscar's case in particular :

Last year, he said himself that he went on with a low profile PR -wise because of how he arrived in F1. I think it was a smart decision but he's paying the price now. People are realising he's not that "bland" driver, very calm and collected all the time. He's a fighter like all great drivers are. I think that some people don't like that.

The way things unfolded this year at McLaren made people focus way more on how both Lando and Oscar behaved. They are both judged harsher this year and everything they do or say it over-analysed. Of course, that can fulfill someone dislike easily

That being said, I truly don't think Oscar was that an asshole compared to other drivers of the past but in 2022 and 2023 we got a season with not much intra-team drama and barely no fight for the title so it might have given some fans a wrong idea about how drivers can act sometimes.

And to conclude, like I said in another post with the example of Michael Schumacher: at the end of the day, it's up to each fan to decide if they support their driver's wrongs or not... Just don't expect to find a driver that hasn't any (especially if he's fighting for victories).

Also, thank for the respectful way in which you brought your pov! :-)

[imaginespazzi]

Nivi!! Two Monday updates in a row? Inspirational stuff, babes. I hope you're doing good! You spoil us way too much 🫶

Firstly, I super appreciate the addition of the months to the dates cause I was lowkey hoping for it. I get way too invested in the actual timeline so this was very much welcome haha.

I always love flashbacks to fetus (teenage) Pazzi, like even irl, that’s always the time period and their dynamics during that time that interests me the most so I absolutely adored this flashback scene!

Azzi sending an actual letter invite was so wholesome, would not be surprised if something similar actually happened irl. I know Paige spent a whole day just re-reading the “Yours, Azzi” at the end 😂

Ice cameo! I love getting these new special guests each chapter, makes it entertaining tryna figure out who’s gonna pop up next.

Stephie was already tearing up saying goodbye and they’d only properly known each other not even a month?? BRUH, this one-year contract is not gonna go down well AT ALL. #ProtectStephieatallcosts

Also, has Ice met Stephie? The way she talked to P about Stephie made it seem like she hasn’t yet or maybe I just read that wrong?

Yep, place that bet Icey, it’s gonna happen!

As soon as I read the “comes roaring back with a vengeance” and the name “Olivia”, I knew it was trouble (nothing against those with the name Olivia 😅), I felt it in my bones she was the ex-wife.

Look, she hasn’t done much wrong yet and P maybe did deserve some of it but I don’t like this Olivia. It’s just a matter of principle, you know.

Stephie facetiming P on her own cause she just missed her too damn much 🥺 This little family (they’re already a family in my mind okay) gives me so much life, and will probably be the death of me eventually.

Time zones would be a confusing af concept to kids, I never even thought about that lmao.

Not Paige thirsting over Azzi over the phone! There is a kid present, Miss Buecks!

Stephie’s fave colour being purple too, I mean I guess she’s been constantly around purple her whole life so it makes sense but imma choose to believe it’s a continued manifestation of that invisible string between Paige and Azzi. Also, I can just imagine Azzi’s reactions when she realises she’s basically raising a mini Paige too lol.

And the full circle moment of P skipping out on team events to stay on the phone with Azzi (and lil Azzi) – you never fail to deliver with these full circle moments babes, and the way you do it is just so organic, like it always flows and never feels forced and ugh YOUR MIND 🙌

What’s next?

Ice’s comment about teammates having to deal with Pazzi’s bullshit – that just made me even more desperate for those flashbacks to their UConn days, especially when it all starts breaking down.

Oh btw, does Azzi know it’s a one-year contract? Are contract terms reported on like they are irl or nah?

Also, just making sure I’ve got the timeline down pat – Paige and Olivia were together from 2027 to 2031? And I’m assuming Azzi had Stephie Jan 2028 or late 2027 since Stephie’s five in present day? So Stephie woulda been almost two when Paige first met her in that run-in with Tim?

I wonder if it was P that proposed to Olivia, and if it was, I’m curious to know the timing and if it was a knee-jerk reaction to Azzi having a baby??

What I really need to happen though is Paige’s dream coming true!

Stephie is just so real to me that even when Pazzi have kids irl, Stephie will always be the OG for me 😌

Also, the suggestion someone had the other day of Paige kid-proofing everything is on point. Like her first priority for her new place in Cali isn’t even gonna be furniture or anything, it’s just gonna be stacks and stacks of toys and lego sets and other kid stuff 😭

Lastly, you know I love me a little bit of the jealous trope 🤭 Could we potentially see like a really close friend of Azzi’s that also has a good relationship with Stephie bring out a little bit of jealous P??

Oh btw, are the lyrics from that Louis Tomlinson song?? Cause that really took me back lmao, I haven’t heard that in forever!

Favourite line/quote:

Paige realizes that her favorite thing about Azzi’s smile isn’t when her dimples show or when her eyes twinkle, it’s when it’s there because of Paige, when it’s there just for Paige.

P.S: This is non-fic related but while watching my fave sport (AFL) over the weekend, there were a couple players playing their first game back from an ACL injury and one of the guys was coming back only SEVEN months after tearing his ACL! And this sport is like one of the most physical sports I’ve ever watched so I couldn’t believe it. Anyway, it made me really hopeful for Azzi, cause I feel like she’s probably on track for a nine-month recovery and I’ve had reservations about that especially given it’s her second one, but seeing those guys coming back after an even shorter period of time and pulling up fine made me feel a lot better. I know the recovery is different for everyone, but if Azzi (and her rehab team) believe she’s ready to be cleared after nine months, then I have full trust in them and I can’t wait to see her back on the court 🥹

Alrighty, this got way too long 😬 I’ll catch you next time bestie, enjoy the rest of your week and if I don't pop by before then, happy Olympics to everyone! 💗

-🙋‍♀️

BABE!! Aren't you proud of me? Can't believe this is who I've been these last two times (just wait until that can't-write-for-three-weeks hits and all these other people realize who Nivi really is)

I probably had some logic for not having dates in the beginning but lmao yeah it makes a lot more sense to have them so I'm glad it's helpful

Paige still has that letter for sure, in a little treasure chest somewhere with everything else Azzi's given her

I'm stressing myself out adding so many characters ngl and I still haven't added the rest of the Valkyrie team so let's see how that goes

LMAO not the Olivia name slander (but no I get it like when I was thinking about the ex-wife the name Olivia just seemed fitting)

The difference in people's reaction to Zoe in the UCLA fic vs Olivia in this one is so funny to me

I think they're a family in their own minds to now...but is it sustainable?

BRO RIGHT? That part was inspired by a convo I had with a kid at work who was so confused about why their mom could only call their uncle who lives abroad at certain hours

Paige gonna thirst no matter what (but me too so she's not special)

Thank you lovie! Sometimes I'm a little worried the parallels do seem too intentional so this made me relieved that it doesn't feel forced.

I'm so excited to write UConn days fs!

Everyone knows that Paige is signed to the Valkyries for a year but the assumption is that it's like Stewie with the Libs last year, where yes it's a one-year contract but you're obviously gonna renew. Nobody, including Azzi, knows about the Liberty part of it because that's all technically hush-hush behind the scenes stuff

Stephie's born early 2028 , so she's probably like one and a half when Paige first meets her (I am going to fuck this timeline up at some point.

Babe you read my mind. Azzi has this really pretty international French teammate who Paige just might not end up liking too much.

YES it is a Louis Tomlinson song. I was listening to it the other day and I was like damn wait, lemme add!

I think Azzi's first one she came back 9 months later and this one was reported to be less severs so I am finger-crossed that if she still does the 9 month recovery anyways, she'll be absolutely stellar. Ugh I'm so excited to see my girl play, it's been too long.

[nogitzune]

WIP Wednesday Thursday

Hopping on this (late as well lmao) but @aurevell left it open for whomever and so I will!

Here's some more Nightfall, that twilight au I mentioned a bit ago. Say hello to Beacon Hill's High.

The next morning is his first day of school and with the start of all those new kids and teachers and no Allison–because apparently her mom and dad have her go to some fancy private school–Stiles ends up taking some of his emergency anxiety medication. Technically he isn’t supposed to also drive after taking one, but what his dad doesn't know won’t hurt him. It’s not as if he hasn’t done it before. News about his arrival must’ve gotten out somehow–small town gossip is a beast, really–because his arrival at the school is watched like a hawk. Every single person in the parking lot seems to catch sight of him at least once, and Stiles can practically feel their piercing stares as they try to look, look, look, underneath his skin and into the whole of him. He tries to turtle into his jacket and away from the many faces facing him, so he’s caught by surprise when someone actually approaches him and says something. “Um, what?” Stiles asks, missing what the person suddenly in front of him said completely. “You’re the Sheriff’s kid, right? Unpronounceable first name Stilinski?” The guy in front of him questions callously. He’s just this side of shorter than Stiles, and his face seems kind if curious. He’s kind of cute, Stiles guesses, but not really his type. “You mind if I get your picture for the yearbook?” He continues without waiting for an answer, lifting the camera hanging from his neck.  “I go by Stiles, and no thanks.” Stiles says even as the guy takes a picture anyway. He’s sure he’s grimacing in it and he really hopes it doesn't end up in the yearbook. “Oops–I’ll delete that later then, sorry.” The guy says sheepishly. “I’m Matt and–obviously I work with the yearbook club. They’ll probably wanna interview you–” Stiles interrupts the guy–Matt–and feels a little bad when he deflates. “No, no, they don’t need to do that. I’m sure you guys get new people all the time.”  “Not really.” “Oh, um, anyway I’ve gotta–get my schedule, figure out my classes–” Stiles starts backing away. “No problem! I’m sure Daniel or Heather will find you later about the interview. See you sometime–” Matt yells as Stiles rushes away, words lost in the crowded hallway. Stiles makes his way to the office after all but running away, face no doubt red from his embarrassment. He doesn’t really need to get a schedule, as his dad had already got it sorted out for him, but he figures that grabbing a map of the school wasn’t a bad idea. Anything to avoid high school paparazzi.

There's a bit not seen here between the last snippet and this one--y'all will have to wait for the whole thing to see it!

[stillfrownyclownlol]

FROWNY. I know I commented some of my thoughts already (and already gave you an ask about it) but I have more and the comments have a word limit so I’m just gonna say them here:

ADAM. ADAM. I’m sorry but I think he’s my favourite character. Like THE RITUAL WITH HIM AND PERSEPHONE?? HER SAYING “They didn’t believe me”????? EXCSUE ME??? HELLO?? GIRL?? I cannot BELIEVE the amount of happenings I’ve just read. Like WHAT. He hasn’t woken up yet but like omg my baby my boy please come here and let me HUG YOU. He’s been going through it this whole book and he genuinely needs a hug I just wanna squeeze him and keep him safe UGHHHH.

ANYWAY. SO. Gansey and Blue??? CUTE AF?? Sad her and Adam aren’t together but honestly saw it coming — I was just in denial really. Like he’s literally her TRUE LOVE. There’s NO WAY she wouldn’t fall for him. I’m happy they considered Adam’s feelings though, but like OMG THE MOUNTAIN SCENE?? It was so cute and I could picture it so well in my mind like… (if you don’t remember what scene I’m referring to it’s the one after Adam’s scrying where Blue and Gansey drive off to clear their heads and then they stop at this beautiful scenery and then feelings get blown and they are REALLY cute)

UM. KAVINSKY?? HELLO?? I thought he was just some random jerk?? HE CAN DO SHIT WITH HIS DREAMS TOO?? And what’s with all the gay jokes?? My guy is so fruity, he calls Ronan “sweetheart” and “princess” this man is NOT STRAIGHT. like at all. Also Ronan??? RONAN??? KILL ME RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I CANT BELIVE HE DID THAT?? WITH THE CAMARO?? GENUINELY SCREAMED WHEN THAT HAPPENED??? And HIS EUPHORIC LAUGHTER?? HE SMILED?????? PLEASE CAN I HAVE MORE OF THAT????

Gray Man is ehh still, like he and Maura are cute I guess and he figured out Greywaren was a someones instead of a something but also okay?? I mean at least he isn’t gonna kidnap them or kill them? (At least, I hope not because I’m not done with the book)

Last thing I wanna talk about before I go read again: I officially love the Lynch brothers (like maybe not Declan YET but I’m only on book 2) and the Gansey’s aren’t all that bad. I also just want Adam to find someone who’d love him because he’s been so deprived of it his whole life like UGHHH ADAM??? I wanna cry he’s such a wreck 😭

Ok rant over !

NOOOOO YOURE AT THE RITUAL SCENE? PLEASEEEE BROKE MY HEART FR 😭😭😭

Omg the mountain scene. THE MOUNTAIN SCENE. THE DRIVE- SLDHOSBDOD IT WAS SO- AUGGHHHH. anyways don't worry Adam will also get his happiness 🙂‍↕️

THE KAVINSKY PLOT TWIST WAS CRAZYYYYY LMAO. also yeah he's fruity af kshjdbfsi.

WHEN HE CRASHED THE CAMARO KAHDJHDKS RIGHT AFTER GANSEY WAS THINKING ABOUT IT 💀 KILLED ME-

Grey Man is whatever I appreciate his help but like lowkey you shouldn't have been there in the same place-

The Lynch Brothers drive me insane in the best possible way ~

ADAM WILL FIND LOVE I PROMISEEEEE <3

[fractualized]

Talking to friends literally yesterday, I got a sudden fixation on wafflejokes, so let me tell you how delighted I am at the amount of Mr. Waffles in The Man Who Stopped Laughing #7!

As always, spoilers ahead! (Also a drowning and some assassinations, plus a theory at the end.)

I don't know anything about Manhunter, so while this issue opening with an AA meeting is somber, it does also give a little speedrun on what her deal is.

Joker also doesn't know about Manhunter but he doesn't much care.

The poor crowd is also unfamiliar with both of them and thinks it's a street performance, including this cute volunteer Joker is eyeing. I freaking love when Joker just makes up names for people. Engaging yet dismissive.

Uhhhhhh after this panel the cute man is perfectly fine don't worry about it ok

I'm not sure what that gas Joker hit Manhunter with earlier was supposed to do, because she's back up shortly. Joker looks weirdly alluring here when she threatens him with her glowstick.

lmao I love the broad comedy beats in this comic.

And oh SHIT WHO IS DRIVING?

I've had Mr. Waffles for three issues, and if anything happens to him, I'll kill everyone in this comic and then myself.

There's a brief segue to Jason in Gotham PD jail like there was last issue, just beats to let us know what he's up to, I guess. He's aware that there's still a Joker out there, so I'm not sure why he hasn't escaped? And now "someone" is having him transferred to Blackgate? Mystery! Anyway, here he is being manhandled:

Back in Los Angeles, Joker has taken the wheel and is still trying to get to the dang airport.

I love them. 🥰

Joker blows the helicopter to bits, and then

He's so eager to escape LA, but maybe his sourness on Gotham is coming through. He left for a reason, after all, and is only going back to take care of the Other Joker.

Meanwhile Manhunter has recovered from being nailed by a freaking cop car, and I guess it's the straightforwardness of "lady, you need to lie the fuck down" that's so funny to me.

Poor unsuspecting motorcyclist.

Then there's an unexpected diversion to Killer Moth, who is headed for Los Angeles?!

We last saw him giving information to Jason, before Jason stabbed him in the hand in exchange, so I'm not sure what he's doing here. But getting to LA sure is important!

His idiot loser vibe is going strong.

Meanwhile:

Rosenberg, you are a prince for validating my experience at In-N-Out.

I love Joker bickering with his hench rebound about traffic. 😭

We get to see Joker doing a lot of stunt driving when Manhunter is on their tail again.

Joker is so conflicted about LA! He loves that it's supposed to be superhero-free, yet earlier he said he hated the lack of pushback?

Anyway, here's more banter between Joker and his hench boytoy:

And another cute hench nickname.

Joker's idea, of course, is wildly dangerous!

And naturally she does!

But then we cut to our old friend, Hit-By-A-Train-(And-Not-The-Fun-Kind) Joker, who wakes up and sees he's in Grundy's care.

:(

This Joker showed up in Punchline: The Gotham Game #6, and I thought it took place after he was healed, but now I'm thinking he helped her out in the period before he got hit by the train, when he was dressed up like Batman investigating his old haunts. Not that it really matters to anyone but me! (That issue also sort of addressed how Punchline fell out with Joker… but not really? It's still really abrupt and disjointed how it happened. Eh. It's done.)

Back at the highway chase that I would really like to see in live action or really good animation, we have-- you got it-- more wafflejokes interaction! Until Manhunter ruins it. >:[

The crash is pretty cool, though. (Lookit the lil Waffles!)

And here's where we learn the important info that Manhunter is not a vigilante with a no-kill rule.

Hee, lookit his lil nose sticking out.

Here's hoping that Mr. Waffles is conscious and comes to the rescue! (If you're wondering if I've already attempted writing wafflejokes smut… yeah absolutely.)

Based on the description of the next issue, the rescuer is not Killer Croc. It looks like the other Joker will probably encounter Croc in the Gotham sewer. Finally making friends again? ;_;

As always, we now have the backer, which this time revolves around…

Unfortunately most of Joker's fellow rogues are uninterested in helping.

Imagining Scarecrow phonebanking sdghalgksgh

After he clears the primaries, Joker discovers there are enemies of his candidacy.

And so Joker continues to campaign (by bribing his constituency) and allow his doubles to be murdered until…

"America has run out of clowns" made me laugh. "Jarvis Poker the British Joker?!" had me laugh-crying for reasons I still can't  quite grasp.

And so the story basically ends with Joker suddenly the King of Britain?? (With shades of Emperor Joker.)

I miss the more surreal backers, but this one still gave me some good laughs.

For a last note: in the main story we've now been spending more time with the Joker who left Gotham, and since he hasn't given any signs that he's the fake, I'm starting to settle into the theory that maybe there isn't a real and a fake Joker? Maybe the somber Joker we saw at the end of his 2021 series was so weary post Joker War that he found a magic user and asked them to get rid of the parts of him that were stopping him from being the Clown Prince of Crime anymore, but because magic often has a catch, it wound up splitting him into two versions of himself. This theory also stems from that scene in TMWSL #1 where Joker is killing the crime bosses because they "lowered the standard of crime" and "made it inelegant," which he may think of his double because Sad Joker contains all the doubtful, miserable, vulnerable parts of himself. That's why he's an "imposter": he represents everything the Joker isn't supposed to be.

But who knows how long it'll be until I find out if this right. 🫠

[iwanthermidnightz]

alskdj sometimes I smh at us as a fandom and also on the individual level how we lose our minds over her surprise songs on tour or each release of a rerecording we’ve already heard or seeing a paparazzi photo of her on a street in a new outfit.

it just feels like we fawn over her every move and I’m so done ngl

(also this isn’t directed at you specifically at all. I just know you’re reasonable and classy so I wanted to share my gripes lol)

I completely understand she deserves to own her work again and she’s doing that in a way that feels like it honors that, and I totally absolutely respect that. I just wish she would release them all at once and not drag it out… (respectfully).

also I’m just tired of the surprise-song-o’clock every night where we lose our minds over her performing a song we literally can listen anytime we want lol

I know it’s not serious but sometimes it feels like the fandom makes it so serious and I’m just like ✌️do your thing besties but I’ll sit this out, got better things to put my time toward

sorry for the random rant! no need to engage with it just idk 😮‍💨 had to tell someone

Hahaha I know. I think its just that its exciting for the possibility of her playing a song she’s never performed live before (for me on guitar), and songs she hasn’t played in a while or other maybe less appreciated songs stripped down. It really showcases how the most intricately produced songs are built from just her guitar or piano and sound just as great. There’s also the implications I guess of her saying she maybe picks songs that in her mind connect with each other? (I think thats what she said). I don’t put too much weight on it… but I can see how it keeps people engaged.

Also with the fawning, its because a lot of us are queer lmao 😭

With the rerecords, its the principle and I agree it honors herself and all the years she spent building what she did. For me, there’s something about hearing her record songs with her voice now that makes it so much better. I’ve played the originals over the years so many times that I memorize every part of it, and yet it’s somehow still special to experience it in this new way.

I think we knew she wouldn’t release them all at the same time. For many reasons I think. 1) it would be years before she finished recording them all 2) its fun for her and us to relive these eras and reminisce on what made them special 3) the marketing and margin for sales is too good to pass up 4) spacing the releases out feeds the constant frenzy of people always wanting content/music from her etc etc.

Overall I get what you mean. I feel this way too sometimes about easter eggs or elaborate theories that are most likely not probable which we are all guilty for. It may not seem like it but in a way I’m detached enough to be like “oh wow” and maybe get excited about something (some moments call for that) and then go about my day, this is a TS community after all. But many of us have been ‘chronically online’ since the debut days, its kind of engrained in us to at least care a little about whats going on even if from a distance. I get that its different for a casual fan. I also don’t think its helpful to make people feel bad for being excited. You never know what someone’s going through and this, whatever this is, could be the only thing keeping them afloat.

I guess what I mean is, theres nuance. At least for me. The value is connecting with people who share the same interests as you. Hope I’m making sense 🤍

[chickensarentcheap]

It was pretty instantaneous.  He was a wreck from the beginning but in different ways.  he had no idea where she went, why she even left.  His first thought being that someone had showed up while he was gone and took her as a form of revenge against him.  When no one contacted him about her,  he considered maybe he'd done something to drive her away or she left him for someone else.  So his emotions about it kept changing.  Worry, anger, guilt, regret.  There were times he hoped she was dead instead of with someone else because it was easier to accept.   He went into a very depression. Had volatile mood swings, moments of pure rage etc etc etc.  

She was.  Numerous times.  Because she wanted him to be part of everything.  He deserved to be. Especially after losing his son and still carrying all that shame and regret and the fear of being a dad again.  But he'd been willing to fight past all that to have a family with her.  And it killed her that he couldn't be :(

Mostly pressure from her brother, who works with Tyler.   And it gave him a reprieve from feeling so alone.   but it was always fleeting and she ended up annoying him more than anything :(

Eight months

Millie is very head strong so it makes sense her first firm word was "No". LMAO

I think it will bring a lot of emotion out of him. He hasn't been called that in a long time.  And often feels he doesn't deserve to be a dad again

No entirely sure yet. I don't know what he could call her as Millie is already sort of her nickname

Extremely difficult.  She'd always wanted to be a mom but not in the way it ended up.  Doing everything alone and not having a partner there to share in the milestones and the illnesses.  It was a lot of stress.  

@tragiclyhip​

[silvfyre-writings]

run and don't stop running Pt. 1 (BSD Fanfic)

Apparently I can't resist starting another series when I haven't even finished the last one lmao, but oh well, who can say no to more bramran content? Cause I certainly can't! Enjoy~

Bram’s heart is pounding.

It’s pounding so hard that it feels like his chest is about to explode, but he ignores it and pushes on, determination and fear the only thing powering him as he pulls the hood he’s wearing over his head, keeping his head turned down to avoid making eye contact with anyone. The last thing he wants is to attract attention when he’s trying to be sneaky, and it would be the end of his world if he got caught to begin with.

He’s pretty sure that Fyodor hasn’t noticed he’s missing yet; Bram had made sure to leave a few minutes after his lover—well, ex-lover now—left for work that morning. He got hit with a bout of courage that had him packing a backpack of essentials and making his way to the airport without any hesitation. He has no plan in mind, only a goal and that is to get away and as far away as he can. And then never look back.

So far, it’s gone well.

The first thing he did upon arriving at the airport was find the nearest kiosk and ask for a ticket on the next available flight. It’d gotten him an odd look from the worker, but there must’ve been something in his expression because the young woman’s face softened and she printed out a ticket, telling him that he had ten minutes to get to his gate and get on the plane.

So Bram took off.

There was no way he was going to miss this flight, miss the one opportunity he had to get away and be free after twenty years of misery and suffering under the hands of someone he’d once loved.

He somehow makes the flight with a few minutes to spare, sliding into his seat and letting out a sigh of relief, hands shaking so much that he squashes them between his knees to try and stop them. It doesn’t work but his mind quickly drifts elsewhere. He’s done it. He’s escaped. Bram doesn’t know where he’s flying to, but anywhere is better than here if he’s being honest. And if it happens to be worse… well he’ll manage. He’s good at surviving.

Bram tries not to think throughout the duration of the flight; he doesn’t want to let his previous life drag him down into a spiralling abyss from which he won’t be able to pull himself from because as awful as Fyodor was, he was also Bram’s biggest support. He shakes his head. No, he can’t go down that path right now, lest he scare the people sitting next to him that are already eyeing him uneasily. He squeezes his knees together even harder, until his hands start to hurt, and tilts his head back against the headrest. Just breathe, he tells himself, closing his eyes and thinking about what he’ll do with his new life.

Perhaps he’ll be able to find a job outside, tending to a garden or something similar. He’s not too sure what he plans to do, but he’s always liked the outdoors; it gave him peace and freedom for a few hours, so he would like to try and keep it if he can, but he also won’t be too choosy. He can’t afford to be when he doesn’t even know where he’s going. It’s then that he realises that he only grabbed enough money for the plane ticket, and not for anything else. He hopes to find a job quick if he can. If he doesn’t…

His heart pounds uncomfortably at the thought, because if he fails here, he’ll have to back, and honestly, he’d rather die than do that.

Exhaustion creeps up on him and before he knows it, sleep claims him.

Bram is awoken by someone gently touching his shoulder and he's ashamed when he flinches away from the touch. It's a flight attendant that's woken him, looking a bit guilty at frightening him even though it wasn't her fault that he spooked in the first place.

"Sir, we've arrived. You need to disembark." She says in accented English.

"Apologies." Bram stands and walks past her, hastily exiting the plane and regretting it almost immediately. He's buffeted by a blast of cold wind that his thin hoodie does nothing to stop from giving him a chill. Bram can't tell much from where he's walking, but he sees the bright lights of a city in the distance, so he knows he's not in the middle of nowhere at least.

Getting through airport security is a breeze because as hasty as he was to get out of that house, he isn't an idiot. He made sure to grab his passport before fleeing, but that's all he took, aside from a few items he deemed essential; a few books, a little bit of food that customs wouldn’t take. He doesn't even have his phone, too worried that Fyodor might've used it to track down his location and find him. It's just him, the clothes on his back and his backpack in this strange country.

But once he steps out of the airport, he realises his mistake on not checking his destination. All around him are people foreign to him but native to this country, speaking in a tongue that Bram doesn't understand at all. Even the written language on the signs isn't something he knows; they're characters and for a brief moment, Bram fears he's wound up in Russia of all places, but then the rational part of his brain kicks into gear and he realises it's not the Russian Cyrillic he's looking at but the Japanese alphabet, he thinks. He's not too sure, but he recognises the characters as those of Japan, not that it helps him because he has no idea what the characters say.

He was never allowed to learn anything but what Fyodor wanted him to learn.

For a long time, Bram stands and stares helplessly, no plan, and no skills to get him to a hotel or anything. He wonders if he should just walk and see where his feet take him, when a passerby takes pity on him, speaking to him in broken English.

"First time in Japan?" The man asks, accent so thick that Bram can barely understand him.

Bram nods.

"Where you go?"

"I do not know." Bram says honestly. He doesn't know where he should go either.

The man hums and looks thoughtful for a moment before he speaks again. "I go Yokohama. I take you?"

"I have no money."

"Does not matter. You look lost. Find yourself there, you will."

The strange man speaks so determinedly that Bram finds himself nodding and climbing into the car of a total stranger which he's pretty sure you aren't supposed to do no matter what. Oh well, if this person is plotting to murder him, at least he can say he lasted a total of thirty minutes in this country.

The car ride is silent, broken up by the radio that plays slow ballads. It's not silent by choice, Bram has a lot of questions he'd like to ask, but he also doesn't want to overwhelm the man that's so generously taking him to this... Yokohama place. It was obvious that the man's English was as basic as it got, so conversing with him wouldn't be the easiest of things, and it's not like Bram can communicate in the man's native tongue anyway.

For the second time that day, he drifts off to sleep, only waking when the car stops and the sound of the engine dies away.

Bram climbs out of the car and looks around. The streets are still busy here, but less busy than whatever city it was that he'd landed in. He turns to the man. "Thank you."

"Be safe." Is all the man says before he drives off, leaving Bram on the side of the road.

And that's when he walks. He just picks a direction and walks, hoping to come across a place he can stay at temporarily—preferably one that knows English so that he can actually talk to someone. He really should've checked his destination before ever getting on that plane. What's done is done though, and all he can do is make the best of it.

He thinks he gets lucky after a while, coming across a building that looks like an inn, and when he steps into it, it reminds him of an inn, so he’s hopeful. Especially when the staff member takes one look at him and greets him in English.

But then he hits a problem.

He has no money.

Bram already has his hand in his backpack searching for money before he realises his mistake and he freezes, looking up at the staff member guiltily. He’s not beyond begging for a warm place to sleep for a single night, but he also doesn’t want to risk the young man getting in trouble should he agree to help Bram out. There’s also the chance he would refuse too, because what’s there to gain from a customer with no money. Bram sighs, shoulders drooping.

“I have no money. I apologise.”

The man gives him a sympathetic look but shakes his head, as Bram suspected he would. “I’m sorry, sir, my boss isn’t keen on being kind. I’d lose my job.”

“No, I understand. I will figure something out.” Bram says as he leaves the inn behind, even though he has no idea what to do next. He’d come here without a plan, hoping to make one once he got a roof over his head, but his rattled self had forgotten to grab the one thing that would actually help him out of this situation. Perhaps he could sell the books he brought with him—surely they’d garner enough money for him to get a room for one night at least.

For now, it was best he found somewhere sheltered to sleep; as sheltered as one could get on the streets of a foreign country.

He starts walking again, even more miserable than before.

It was cold on the streets.

Even after fishing out a thicker, albeit holey, jacket from the dumpster, it was cold. Freezing if he was being honest with himself. Bram sighs as he slides to the floor of a quiet alley that he found, one that's out of the wind and provides a little protection from other people. It's behind some kind of business—a bakery he thinks, judging how there's the scent of bread in the air, even in the early hour of the morning. It smells amazing, and reminds Bram of home. It also reminds him that it's been a few days since his last meal—he can't bring himself to steal food even though he knows it's the only way he'll get to eat.

But... he just doesn't want to hurt anyone by doing so, so he doesn't.

It's cold and he's so hungry.

It’s been days and his situation has only gotten worse.

Maybe I should’ve stayed with Fyodor… Bram thinks to himself, but quickly shakes that thought away. No, staying with Fyodor wasn’t an option in the slightest. Besides, even if it was, there was no way for him to catch a plane back anyway.

Bram tucks himself into the corner that provides the best protection from the wind. The temperature’s dropped even more since he arrived in Japan and it’s getting harder and harder to find places to sleep because as it turns out, he’s not the only homeless person around, and the ones that he’s stumbled across aren’t too happy when he shows up looking for a place to sleep, even if he promises just to be there for a few hours.

So he knows that he won't be able to stay in this alley forever, but he hopes that whoever owns the bakery won't mind if he spends the rest of the night and the morning here at least. If he's lucky, he'll be able to explain his situation and get some sympathy, although most of the time he's not lucky and he's forced to flee whatever object gets thrown at him by an irate businessmen that shouts at him with words he doesn’t understand.

Bram's eyes slip closed, and he curls up into a tight ball to preserve some warmth as he drifts off into an uneasy sleep.

Only to jerk awake what feels like seconds later to something hard smacking into his leg. He flinches away from the touch, eyes wildly scanning the alleyway and falling upon a short man staring down at him, bright green eyes piercing the shadows. Bram frowns and quickly glances up towards the sky to see the vestiges of sunrise peering over the top of the building. No wonder he’s so tired, he only managed to sleep a couple of hours it seems.

Another smack comes, and Bram pushes himself away, heart pounding and hands shaking as unbidden memories wash over him. Memories of hands landing upon him, glasses being thrown at him. He forces himself to not spiral into them, looking up at this stranger with fearful eyes. He hates that he's afraid, but he can't help it; he doesn't know this person or why they're hitting him, and he doesn't understand him when the man opens his mouth to ask a question.

Bram, still shaking, shakes his head, hoping that's enough to indicate he doesn't understand.

And then.

"I asked what you're doing here?" English, glorious English, and while accented, it's clear and understandable and Bram could burst into tears right then and there.

"Sleeping. Or trying to." Bram says, ducking his head. He flinches, squeezing his eyes shut, when he hears the sound of wood on stone, thinking he's about to be struck again. Only, he isn't, and Bram slowly opens his eyes and finally notices what he'd been hit with in the first place.

A cane. The man is leaning heavily against the sturdy piece of wood, looking rather unimpressed with Bram's presence. "Well, it's the middle of winter, you're going to freeze to death out here."

"Oh."

"Oh?"" The man sounds incredulous and takes a step closer. He has a prominent limp, Bram notices, which explains the cane. "We'll get up and do something about it. You can't sleep here. I'd rather not have some homeless foreigner's death on my conscience."

Bram feels guilt welling within him and he ducks his head. "I apologise."

"What for?"

"Inconveniencing you." Bram says and in the brief silence that follows, before he has a chance to rein the words in, the floodgates open and he pours out his situation to this complete stranger, telling him how he was fleeing from someone, but not why; the stranger doesn't need to know that, and also tells him how he just got on the first plane he could which turned out to be to Japan and so on until he gets to his current position in this alleyway. It’s a miserable story and he feels bad for offloading it onto some random person he’s just met, but he can’t stop. He needs someone to know.

Yet despite the outpour, the man listens intently, not interrupting once, and only speaks once Bram's finished talking. "Get up."

Bram's head rises so fast he's surprised his neck doesn't snap. "What?"

"I said, get up!" The cane strikes the ground.

Bram flinches, and the man winces

But he gets up.

"Come with me." The man says, turning around and walking to the back door of the building, fumbling with keys for a few seconds before he unlocks the door and swings it open. He gestures for Bram to enter.

Bram slowly shuffles into the building, breathing out a sigh as he's greeted by warmth and the smell of bread. He slowly moves further into the building, making sure not to touch anything or get dirt on the floor. It's been a while since he could shower so... yeah, he smells a little and his absolutely covered in filth. Much to his disgust.

"Keep moving, keep moving." The man taps the floor impatiently behind him until Bram moves from the kitchen into what must be the serving area, but before he can take anything in, the man's cane is nudging him to the side towards some stairs. "Go up the stairs."

Bram nods and then turns to look at the man. "Do you--"

"I walk up and down these stairs every day. Just keep moving." The man snaps, hooking his cane over an arm as he limps up the stairs behind Bram.

He feels like he's just accidentally offended the man that's helping him, so he moved quickly to get out of the way of his ire, pausing once he reaches the upstairs area. He's blocked by a door, but pushes it open and finds himself stepping into a spacious apartment. And then he freezes, not knowing what to do next.

The man steps in front of Bram and then turns around to look at him. He points with his cane to a door down the hall. "That's the bathroom. Go and clean yourself up before you get sick—if you aren’t already. I'll find something that hopefully fits you to wear. Oh, and a towel. Once you do that, come back downstairs. Understand?"

Bram nods.

"Good, now get moving, I don't have all day." The man pushes off, cane tapping against the floor. He only gets a few steps before Bram calls out to him.

"What is your name?"

The man looks over his shoulder and rolls his eyes, like he'd expected the question to come. "Ranpo. Now get a move on will you!"

Bram scurries off and enters the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind him. It's a simple room, with a shower, a sink, and a toilet all in one, with a washing machine and dryer tucked into a corner. It's rather spacious for a bathroom, Bram notes, almost western in design if he thinks about it. Not that he cares right now, a shower is a shower and this one was so graciously offered to him. He strips himself of his ratty clothes and turns the water on, waiting for it to warm before he steps into it and god is it not the best thing he's felt for a long time after being cold for so long.

He doesn't want to take advantage of Ranpo's generosity though, so he only stays under the water long enough to borrow some soap and scrub the grime from his body. He doesn't use a lot, just a single pump, and he makes sure to stretch it to his hair as well; a hard task considering how long and tangled it is, but somehow, he manages. After that, it's a quick rinse and he's done, turning off the water and climbing out, and—oh.

There's a towel and some clothes sitting just inside the door on the floor.

When Ranpo had dropped those off, he doesn't know, but he appreciates it.

Amazingly, the clothes are big on him, which leads Bram to believe that they aren't Ranpo's to begin with, not unless the shorter man was once the same height as him, and he's pretty sure people can't do that. He wonders who they belong to as he pulls on the thick pants; it has to be someone tall yet shorter than he is since they don’t quite cover his ankles, and he absolutely swims in the sweater as he pulls it over his head. Someone broad… maybe with muscle? A friend or a partner perhaps. Bram won’t pry, but he is curious.

Once he’s dressed, he slumps to the floor, pressing himself to the back of the door and curling up into a ball. Even though he’s clean and has a roof over his head for now, he doesn’t know how long this’ll last, how long Ranpo plans to be generous to him. It could just be for the day or maybe, just maybe, it could be a few. Bram wants to remain hopeful; he wants to believe that with this little bit of kindness that his luck is turning, but he can’t stop himself from stressing. A habit that Fyodor tried to beat out of him, only to make it worse. At some point, Bram remembers being confident and proud, but now he’s nothing but a broken shell of his former shelf, nothing but a doll for his former lover to mould and play with.

Before he even realises it, he’s crying. The tears run down his cheeks before he can stop them, and his body trembles as he bites back sobs. What did he do to deserve such a life? He made mistakes, but everyone did, so why was it his life that had to be ruined? What kind of higher being decided to look at him and decide that happiness wasn’t his to bear? Everyone around him was happy like he used to be. Everyone around him married the loves of their lives like he’d done. So why was it just him that fell off the cliff, tumbling into the tumultuous ocean to drown?

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair.

"Sit." Ranpo orders the moment Bram reappears downstairs, pointing to one of the booths in the customer area.

He does, keeping his head ducked in hopes that Ranpo won’t spot the remnants of his breakdown, taking a deep breath and enjoying the smell of baked goods that grows with each passing second. A few minutes later, a plate slides in front of him, and Ranpo's slipping into the seat across from him, steepling his hands to rest his chin on, studying Bram carefully. Ranpo’s eyes linger on his red eyes and the puffed skin around them, not once changing intensity. It's a little unnerving, and intimidating, and Bram drops his head.

"You're rather timid." Ranpo comments and then nudges the plate a little closer with a finger. "Eat. It's for you."

"I have no money."

"Did I say I wanted your money?"

Bram shakes his head.

"Good, because I don't. You're hungry, so eat."

He does, and it's the most delicious thing that Bram’s eaten in days, weeks even. He can't remember what his last meal was, but it was surely days ago, and this pastry, warm and meaty and delicious easily fills the void that was his grumbling stomach. It's all he can do to not just devour it in a singular bite. "Thank you."

Ranpo grunts, and leans back against the booth, drumming the table with two fingers. It's only once Bram finishes eating that he speaks. "What's your name?"

"Bram." As kind as Ranpo’s been, he’s not willing to offer up his full name. Not yet anyway.

Thankfully Ranpo doesn’t seem too bothered by it. "Okay, Bram, what's your story?"

Bram freezes, dropping his gaze to the table in front of him. He doesn't want to explain his story again, he just wants to move on and pretend that part of his life never happened. He wants to move on and start fresh. "I told you..."

"Came to Japan to start a new life, and wound up homeless. Yep, got that part. But you conveniently left out the why part of that." Ranpo says.

"... running from someone." Bram murmurs after a minute of silence passes between them. "Someone... not nice."

Ranpo's brow furrows, but his face is one of understanding, like he's gone through a similar situation before himself. "Is this someone going to come looking for you?"

"I do not know."

"Do they know where you went?"

"No."

This time, Ranpo scratches at his cheek, thinking hard before he answers. "Alright then. I get the picture. You can stay here."

Bram's eyes widen. "What?"

"Tch, are you deaf? I don't like repeating myself."

"I heard. I meant... why?"

Ranpo shrugs. "Dunno. Guess I'm a sucker for good people in unfortunate situations. But it's not for free."

Bram ducks his head again. "I am happy to work but..."

"But?"

"I do not know the language."

Ranpo hums, and then stretches to lean across the table. He throws up one finger. "One month. In one month, you will learn the basics of the language—I have a teacher friend who can help you. In the meantime, you can help me out here. It'll be a piss poor wage, but it's not like you have any money right now."

Tears well up in Bram's eyes again before he can help it. This stranger, this absolute stranger hasn't even known him for two hours and already he's offered his home and a job. Bram can't remember the last time such kindness was given to him—surely it was before he ever got with Fyodor—and it's just so overwhelming that he can't stop his emotions from making an appearance. To his credit, Ranpo takes it in stride and doesn't comment; he just lets Bram fall apart in peace a little.

Bram wipes his eyes. "I am sorry."

Ranpo waves away his apology. "Don't apologise for expressing yourself. If you don't you end up like me." Before Bram can ask what he means by that, Ranpo hauls himself upright. "I have to get ready to open for the day. You can hang out there or go back upstairs, I don't care."

Bram wants nothing more than to go back upstairs and rest yet... he stays sitting in the booth. "Is that teacher friend available today?"

Ranpo grins at him. "I'll give him a call. I'll also call someone who can help you to stay here without a problem, but he'll come tonight."

"Okay." Bram says. And then. "Thank you, Ranpo."

Bram gets a grunt in response as Ranpo disappears into the kitchen. He lets out a quiet sigh once he’s alone and collapses against the table, resting his head in his arms as he stares out the window, watching as the sun rises and the city starts to come to life. From the looks of it, this little bakery is situated in a mostly residential area, so the people that Bram notices are people that come out to collect mail, or to take out the trash. Some even leave their homes to go for runs and walk their dogs and that’s when he realises that Japan isn’t that different from his old home. Well, it is different because it’s an entirely different culture, but the mornings are mostly the same, and it makes him feel as if he actually has a chance to blend in and make a life for himself here.

If Ranpo doesn’t get sick of him and kicks him out that is.

He can hear the younger man in the kitchen, working away at… what Bram assumes is baking since this is a bakery. Considering that Ranpo seems to be the only employee at this place, he has to wonder just what it is that he sells here. He can’t see a menu anywhere, not that he’d be able to read one anyway if there was one. Do bakeries in Japan sell the same things as the ones in Europe? Or are they completely different cuisines? Bram is curious, but he holds off on asking. He doesn’t want to make Ranpo mad by not knowing—logically he knows that the other man wouldn’t be mad because he didn’t get mad when Bram admitted to not even knowing the language, but still, Bram won’t risk it.

Twenty minutes pass before there’s a series of knocks sound against the back door.

Bram listens to the door open, and then the quiet voices that speak in a language he doesn’t understand before Ranpo appears with someone new at his side. A young man that’s taller than Ranpo but still shorter than Bram, blonde hair pulled into a ponytail with square glasses that are perched neatly on the man’s nose, and in his hands are several books. His clothes are neatly pressed and clean; a black buttoned shirt, and khaki slacks that look more like a work uniform than casual clothes. But it’s the man’s expression that catches Bram’s eyes for the most part. He’s scowling, already looking like he disapproves, and Bram ducks his head to avoid eye contact.

THWACK!

“Ow! What the hell was that for, Ranpo-san?” The man shouts, and Bram jerks his head back to see the man leaning over to rub at his shin, cringing away from the sudden yelling. He then glances over to see Ranpo shrugging, leaning against the wall as he taps the ground with his cane and determines that Ranpo must’ve hit the man with his cane.

Bram gets his answer of why before he can event think up the question.

“I told you not to be so intimidating when you arrived, Kunikida-kun.” Ranpo huffs, shifting to lean against his cane as he limps closer to Bram before spinning on his good leg to stare at Kunikida. “Bram-san is easily spooked, you gotta play nice.”

“I was playing nice!”

“Nicer.” Ranpo insists before he spins back to face Bram. “This is Kunikida-kun. He’s gonna be the one to teach you how to speak Japanese. He looks scary, but he’s a softie at heart. If he gives you any problems though, tell me and I’ll whack him.”

Bram blinks, unable to move because fear has overwhelmed him against his will, and he also doesn’t want to chance Kunikida being whacked again when he hasn’t done anything to deserve it. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish, finding himself incapable of bringing forth the words he wants to say. Thank you. I appreciate you help. I’m sorry to take up your time. None of them make an appearance and he starts to feel foolish at not even being able to speak in the presence of someone that Ranpo clearly trusts to help. He swallows uneasily. Already he’s messing this up.

But then Kunikida’s face softens. “The name’s Kunikida Doppo. May I sit down?”

Bram nods quickly, gesturing towards the seat across from him. He’s tense and he can feel his stress levels rising as Kunikida crosses the room to sit in front of him, which isn’t helped by the fact that Ranpo is watching the two of them with careful eyes. Bram flicks his eyes towards the short man and jerks away when green eyes meet his own. Those eyes are terrifyingly sharp, like a blade that’s about to cut right into him and pry all his secrets into the open. Instead he tries to ignore Ranpo and focus on Kunikida, yet still finds himself unable to make eye contact with the other man. “Bram…”

“Nice to meet you.” Kunikida says, placing the books on the table and slowly pushing them towards Bram so that he can look at them. “Ranpo-san says you don’t know the language. I will teach you the language for a couple of hours every morning until you know enough to get by. You are welcome to borrow the books to do some study yourself when I am not here. Is that alright with you?”

“Yes.” Bram says, attempting to nod, but ends up jerking his head up awkwardly. He squashes his hands between his knees again to try and calm himself, squeezing his eyes shut. “What if… I do not do well?”

“Then we practice until you do well.” Kunikida says, sliding a few sheets of paper and a pen over to Bram. “Use this to practice the characters I teach you. But first, take a breath.”

Bram sucks in air and holds it.

“Now let it out slowly.”

He does.

“Good.” Kunikida says, making Bram do that a few more times before he nods to himself. “Are you ready to begin?”

Bram takes one more breath for good measure before he nods, raising his hands to grab the pen and paper and draw them closer. “I am.”

It’s been some years since Bram was in school, but he distinctly remembers his teachers being in a constant state of anger and frustration, spending more time yelling at him and his classmates instead of actually teaching them—they did still learn of course, none of them would’ve graduated if they hadn’t actually learnt anything, it’s just all that Bram remembers from his time of being a stupid. Maybe that’s why he’s never been particularly fond of yelling, even before he wound up with Fyodor, and why he’d been so nervous with Kunikida because the man had entered the building and yelled.

But he was wrong to be scared.

As Bram struggles through memorising the characters, Kunikida remains patient with him, never getting upset with Bram even when he fails to remember the character he’d just been taught. It’s not his fault that some of the characters are similar to others—he knows that they’re different, that’s not the problem, it’s that he keeps getting them mixed up with the other characters and it’s frustrating. And don’t even get him started on the two little dashes that change the sound entirely; he’s starting to think that Japanese is designed to be impossible to learn and that he’ll never learn how to read and speak it.

At that thought, tears prick at his eyes.

And of course, Kunikida notices.

“Let’s take a break.” Kunikida says, leaning back against his seat and putting his pen down. He’d been writing out the characters and then writing the sounds they made in English next to them in an attempt to help Bram remember them easier.

Bram sighs and drops his head, some hair falling into his face that he pushes back behind his ear. His lack of progress does nothing but make him feel pathetic. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re learning an entirely new alphabet and language; it’s not going to be easy.” Kunikida says. “We’ll take a break and eat something before we continue. What would you like?”

The question stumps Bram and he glances over towards the counter where a few customers are lined up, waiting for Ranpo to serve them. The bakery only opened a few minutes ago so it’s still quiet, but a few customers have trickled in already. Ranpo greets them all with a smile and some friendly banter, taking their orders and grabbing them all in one go. Bram’s still impressed that Ranpo’s capable of doing all that on his own without any assistance.

And then he watches as Ranpo turns his cane so that he’d holding the end, using the other end to hook around the rack of bread and drag it closer, grabbing what he needs before pushing it back into place.

Okay, so he has a little bit of assistance, even if it’s a health hazard.

“Bram-san?” Kunikida asks, making Bram jump.

He realises that he never answered the other man. “Oh, um… I do not know what Ranpo makes…”

“Ranpo-san makes a bit of everything, not just food that’s exclusive to Japan. What would you normally get from a bakery where you’re from?”

An excellent question because Bram doesn’t know. He can’t remember the last time he ever stepped foot in a bakery. It wasn’t often that he left the house after all; Fyodor didn’t like it when he would go outside, stating that he wanted more time with Bram before he had to go to work, even if that time was spent… awfully.

Bram swallows uneasily. “A sandwich… with cheese.”

Kunikida nods and rises, heading towards the counter and leaving Bram on his own. He sits there awkwardly for a moment before deciding to try again at the characters, dragging the textbook that has them all listed towards them and going through them carefully. He traces a finger over the letters in the book, quietly sounding them out under his breath. On the page next to the characters lies more, these ones creating simple words for him to both learn and use as a way to remember the characters. Those too, he traces with his fingers, covering the English letters and taking a moment before he sounds them out again, hoping that it’ll help him commit them to memory.

Kunikida told him that using the English was fine in the beginning, but to try and avoid relying on it whenever possible. It’ll help you remember them if you try to recall the character without looking at the letters, the younger had said, and so far, Bram agreed with him. It was harder, sure, but he was slowly picking it up. Just not as fast as he’d like to.

He does this for the minutes that Kunikida’s gone, jumping slightly when the man returns and slides back into his seat, two mugs in hand. One is placed in front of Kunikida and the other is slid over towards Bram.

Bram stares into the much, breathing in the scent of chocolate.

“I wasn’t sure if you were a coffee drinker or not.” Kunikida says whilst taking a sip of his own drink. “So I got you a hot chocolate instead.”

“Thank you.” Bram drinks a small mouthful. It’s sweet, but not overly so and isn’t watered down like some people make them. “It is delicious.”

A fond smile graces Kunikida’s face. “Ranpo-san is very talented. He’ll bring the food over shortly.”

“He does not need help?” Bram asks without thinking, wincing as he remembers when Ranpo had snapped at him for offering to help him with the stairs earlier that morning. He casts a quick glance around the room as if he expects Ranpo to just appear and whack him with his cane.

Kunikida’s expression becomes thoughtful. “He’s learnt to manage over the years. He could use the help, but he’ll never accept it.”

“Oh.” Bram understands that feeling all too well. “He said once I learn, I can work for him.”

“That’s because he cares, even if he won’t outright say it.” Kunikida stares right at him and honestly, it must be a thing that all of Ranpo’s friends do because so far, both he and Kunikida stare in a way that goes straight through you, intimidating even if they don’t mean to be, and Bram has to fight against his nerves that threaten to take charge because of how uncomfortable it makes him.

All they’re doing is looking at him, yet Bram’s mind makes him think they’re going to tear him to pieces.

Before he realises, he’s squashing his hands between his knees again.

“That’s a habit.” Ranpo appears out of nowhere with two plates in hand, sliding them onto the table without looking at either of them.

Bram jerks and rips his hands away but then he doesn’t know what to do with them so he just winds them around himself and hunches in a little. Why did Ranpo have to point it out? It’s what he does when he’s nervous, so what?

“Ranpo-san…” Kunikida sighs.

“What?” Ranpo blinks, eyes flicking between both Kunikida and Bram. “It’s the truth. He does it whenever he gets nervous.”

“Yes, but you do not need to point it out.”

Ranpo shrugs. “I don’t care—”

“Then why did you say something?” Bram interrupts, and then stiffens as he realises what he just did. He’s pretty sure that he’s stopped breathing, but he doesn’t dare move as silence falls around him. Idiot, an absolute idiot. “I am—”

“Don’t apologise.” Ranpo is the one to interrupt this time. “Why does it matter if I said something?”

“Because you did not need to.”

“Maybe you weren’t aware of it being a habit.”

Oh but he is, he is very much aware that it’s a habit. It’s one born from whenever Fyodor would drag him to events filled with people that he both knew yet also didn’t know, forced to sit in a chair and make conversation as his ex-lover would flit around the room, abandoning him without a care in the world. And being the partner of one Fyodor Dostoyevsky made him a very popular person at those events with everyone seeking him out for a chat; it was overwhelming and terrifying, if only because Fyodor would usually leave marks that Bram had to be careful to avoid showing.

He squeezes his eyes shut. “I think I am done for today.”

Before waiting for an answer, Bram stands and quickly flees for the stairs that lead to the upstairs apartment. He thinks he hears one of the men call out to him, but he can’t hear it properly over the way his heart his pounding. He’s stiff and holding himself so tight that it hurts, but he forces himself to place one foot in front of the other as he climbs the stairs. There’s a brief moment where he thinks that maybe it was Ranpo calling out to tell him he wasn’t allowed to go into the apartment without him being there and Bram wishes that he’d heard the words, but his stress is quickly giving way to panic and he can’t be seen when he gets like that.

He pushes the door open and shuts it behind him, remembering to kick off his shoes just in time as he enters the apartment. And then he freezes. Because he doesn’t know where he’s supposed to go. He could go to the bathroom, but he also doesn’t want to stop Ranpo from using it if he needs to, and he obviously can’t go into Ranpo’s room—that’s his room, not Bram’s, and Bram refuses to sit on the couch and let his emotions run wild; inconveniencing Ranpo is his biggest fear right about now, especially when it could end up with him being kicked out.

Which leaves one of the many corners of the apartment to hide in.

He chooses the one in the living room, sliding into the gap between the couch and the wall to curl up and hide. His face comes to rest between his knees as he starts to tremble, and his hands curl into the borrowed shirt he’s wearing. Regret and shame roll through him in waves, bringing forth tears and shuddered breaths. He hates this, he hates it so much. Once upon a time he used to be normal, he used to live in the world and was happy. But then he was coerced into a marriage with someone that he loved but didn’t love him and that’s when it all went wrong.

He's broken, shattered even, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be repaired.

The sound of footsteps brings his panic to a jarring halt and Bram freezes as he tries to work out who it is.

The uneven gait tells him it’s Ranpo.

“Your sandwich is on the table here.” Ranpo says, the sound of a plate hitting a table echoing throughout the silent apartment. “There’s some blankets on the couch if you wanna hide under those instead of your corner, but I don’t care.” There’s a brief pause. “I’ll be back up once I close for the day.”

Bram continues to hold his breath until he hears the apartment door click shut and then he slowly peeks his head up over the side of the couch. True to his word, there is a small pile of carefully folded blankets on one of the couch cushions, and the sandwich he’d requested is resting on the low table in front of the couch. He lets out a sigh, head thunking against the side of the couch; he certainly screwed that up. His first day trying to restart his life and he ran and hid like a child that’s new to the world—how pathetic considering he’s a grown man well into his forties now.

He'll come out of his corner eventually, but for now, it’s safe, and that’s what he wants the most.

At some point Bram dozes off.

He never makes it to the couch, but he does stretch up to drag one of the blankets into his hiding hole, and after a few hours, he does the same with his sandwich.

And then he closes his eyes and drifts off.

For once his subconscious takes pity on him and gives him a dreamless sleep, so when he opens his eyes again to the sound of the apartment door opening at some unknown time, he doesn’t immediately freeze out of fright. That comes afterwards once he realises that Ranpo’s not alone and that whoever’s with him is an entirely new person that Bram hasn’t met yet. He freezes then.

Ranpo and this mysterious stranger are speaking in Japanese, but he does recognise his name when he hears it so he knows that they’re talking about him and that’s when Bram realises that this must be the other person that Ranpo mentioned earlier; the one that would be able to help him but couldn’t come until it was night. Guess it’s night then.

The footsteps stop for a moment, but Ranpo’s gait starts up again soon after and he’s heading straight for Bram.

Bram is frozen stiff when Ranpo’s form appears in front of the couch and he doesn’t say anything as he watches the man awkwardly move to kneel on the floor. He doesn’t miss the pain that crosses Ranpo’s face and the guilt returns at the thought of making Ranpo hurt himself just to help Bram feel that little safer. But since the younger is showing him some vulnerability, Bram attempts to do the same; he raises his head and uncurls a little.

His actions draw a smile from Ranpo.

“You don’t look comfortable there.” Ranpo says, brushing off some invisible dust off his pants. “Remember that friend I mentioned earlier?” When Bram gives a slow nod, he continues. “He’s here now if you’d like to come out and speak with him.”

“Why is he here?” Bram asks. He knows that Ranpo said that this friend will help, but he doesn’t know how he intends to help.

Ranpo’s fingers move to tap his knee in a consistent rhythm. “Visa laws and all that fancy stuff. Unless you wanna be forced to go back in a few months?”

Bram’s breath audibly stutters.

“I thought so.” Ranpo says, more to himself than to Bram. And then Ranpo vanishes, grabbing onto the arm of the couch to haul himself upright and limp out of sight.

Some more words are said that Bram doesn’t understand, and then he hears the sound of the television flicking on, the apartment filling with some quiet noise.

Oh.

They’re waiting for him.

Bram swallows and gathers up all the courage that he has to peek over the arm of the couch again. He’s immediately greeted by the sight of a man that looks to be either his age or a little older, all muscles and age lines, sitting on the couch. The man gives him a quick glance before turning his attention back to the television and Bram takes the chance to study him. Despite his size and his naturally gruff appearance, there’s a sort of… gentleness to the man’s face. It’s hard to see but it’s there.

The man’s dressed in a button shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and slacks that fit his form quite nicely. A businessman perhaps—but then again, this man is supposed to be helping him to stay here, away from Fyodor, so… a lawyer instead?

In the armchair to the side of the couch, Ranpo sits, curled up in the chair sideways with his legs hanging over the arm. There’s a pillow at his back and a bowl of what looks to be candy in his lap, candy that’s being eaten as if they’re chips.

Somehow Bram isn’t surprised.

After several minutes of observation, Bram takes a breath and breaks the silence. “Who are you?”

The strange man looks towards him again. “Fukuchi Ouchi—”

“Just call him Genichirou.” Ranpo interrupts, shovelling another mouthful of candy into him. “Everyone does.”

“Not everyone.” Fukuchi… Genichirou, sighs, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. It sounds like he’s had this conversation before from the sounds of it. “Just you and your friends—”

Ranpo stops chewing and raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, that’s everyone.”

“Are you going to keep interrupting me?”

“I didn’t interrupt you then.”

Another sigh, a heavy one this time, and a triumphant grin from Ranpo.

And then Genichirou—Bram decides it to be best to just follow how Ranpo addresses people since these are all people close to him—turns back towards Bram. “Genichirou is fine. I guess. It’s not important anyway; I’m told you need help.”

Bram slides back into his corner a little until the only thing he can see is the couch, and then he nods.

The silence ticks by awkwardly and Bram tightens his grip on the arm of the couch. “Ranpo said you could help.”

“I can, but to do that, I need to know what I’m helping you with.” Genichirou says, and his words aren’t unkind, but they are blunt and straight to the point which is enough to make Bram flinch.

As much as bluntness spooks him, he prefers it honestly.

It’s just hard to fight back his bodies reactions when they happen before he realises they are.

“Come on, Bram-san, your body must be hurting from being curled up there all day.” Ranpo calls out in what he thinks is supposed to be a coaxing manner.

But it works.

Slowly, Bram uncurls and creeps out of his hiding spot beside the couch, slinking into view like a cat that’s just been disturbed from its nap, and he ever so carefully slides onto the couch, bringing the blanket he’d had with him and wrapping it around him until he can easily hide behind it should he get overwhelmed. He takes a breath. And then another, just like Kunikida told him to earlier.

He doesn’t know what to tell Genichirou really, not in a way that won’t require him to divulge his entire backstory. But he wants the help, so he tries.

“I was involved with someone not nice… and now I have fled.”

Genichirou nods once. “You married to them?”

Bram nods this time.

“They know where you went?”

He shakes his head. “I did not bring anything with me that he could track me with. I wanted to be free so I just acted, I didn’t think.”

For some reason, Genichirou looks at Ranpo who looks away with a scowl.

It confuses Bram but he doesn’t question it.

“I should have planned it better, but I could not stay there another day.” Bram finds himself explaining. His hands start to tremble again, and he hesitates for a moment before squashing them between his knees again. “I left and did not look back. I do not want to go back.”

Genichirou lets out a hum. “And what would happen if you went back?”

“I would die.” It’s the truth. If Bram went back right now there’s no doubt that Fyodor wouldn’t simply kill him, but even if he didn’t, Bram would still die because he’d take it into his own hands. He’s serious when he says he doesn’t want to go back.

As rocky as his start in this new country has been, it still beats being in Fyodor’s hands.

Genichirou gives another hum, one hand coming to smooth over his moustache while the other starts to tap away at his phone, deep in thought. Bram isn’t sure whether that’s a good sign or not—either way his heart is pounding and the trembling in his hands grows even worse. He receives a glance from Genichirou which tells him that he might be shaking the entire couch, but he can’t help it. Stress is his middle name at this point and he’s never been all that good at handling it. Usually it consumes him, drowns him even, until he just shuts down completely.

“Hey.” Bram jumps as Ranpo’s voice comes from beside him and he turns his head quickly to stare at the younger man with wide eyes. Ranpo’s looking at him with an unreadable look on his face. “Scooch over.”

Bram swallows, uncertain. “What?”

Instead of answering, Ranpo motions for Bram to move over.

“Oh.” He squashes himself into the back of the couch as best he can and the moment he stops moving, Ranpo slides into the space that’s left. It’s cramped and not all the comfortable, but the warmth that Ranpo provides from where he’s pressed against Bram’s side is soothing and he finds himself starting to calm down. He allows himself to calm down a little more before asking. “What are you doing?”

“You were about to panic.” Ranpo says, seemingly unbothered by Bram’s moment of weakness as he brings out his phone. “I told you we’d get you help, you don’t need to stress so much.”

“I cannot help it.” Bram murmurs.

Ranpo is silent for a moment. “I know.

Bram brings his knees to his chest and presses his forehead to them. “I do not mean to inconvenience you and your friend.”

“It’s fine. You aren’t the first lost soul that I’ve dragged Genichirou into helping. You’re probably the strangest lost soul but still a lost soul all the same.” Ranpo unlocks his phone and brings up a video. “Do you like animals?”

“Yes.” He very much does like animals; they’re so soft and cuddly and most of all, free. There’d been a hobby farm an hour down the road from the house that he and Fyodor lived in with all kinds of animals. Before Fyodor had forbidden him from leaving the house without his permission, Bram had often taken the walk down to the farm to play with the animals and help out the elderly couple that ran it. Even after he wasn’t supposed to leave the house, Bram still went to visit; he just had to wait for the right time in which he could sneak out and be home without Fyodor realising he’d even gone in the first place.

He’d been caught once, and that was all it took to put an end to the visits entirely.

“Great, ‘cause I have a friend with a pet raccoon of all things—he lives over in America—and he just sent me some videos of random shit he’s done. Wanna watch?”

Bram nods and finds himself stretching out on the couch, peering over Ranpo’s shoulder slightly. “I would like to see this raccoon.”

“His name’s Karl and he’s an absolute menace.” Ranpo says before hitting the play button, and Bram finds himself focusing on a cute gray ball of fur as a raccoon races across the screen with what appears to be some kind of ball in his mouth. It’s cute, so unbearably cute that Bram can’t help but relax the more he watches this little creature. He loses himself in the video, and then the next one as Ranpo plays through every video that’s been sent.

Maybe if he can build a life for himself here, he can adopt an animal of his own.

“Alright.” Genichirou’s voice breaks through, and Bram forces his eyes up and away from the video of the raccoon attacking the vacuum cleaner.

And just like that, the tension returns.

“Relax.” The older man says, putting his phone away finally. “I have to make a few calls, but I believe I can pull some strings for you to stay here.”

A little bit of hope fills Bram. “Really?”

Genichirou nods. “There’s laws and stuff to deal with, but there’s a few bleeding hearts in high places that will be willing to help you out. Until now, just stick with the brat here and do what he says—unless he asks something unreasonable then feel free to tell him to fuck himself.”

Bram blinks the same time that Ranpo gives an indignant cry. “Hey!”

“Tell me you wouldn’t ask him to do something ridiculous.” Genichirou deadpans.

There’s a pause as the two stare at each other before Ranpo jerks his head away with a pout. “I wouldn’t ask him right now.”

“That wasn’t a no—”

“I do not mind.” Bram interrupts before the two can delve into an argument again which he is quickly realising that they seem to do a lot. It makes him reconsider whether they are actually friends because surely friends didn’t argue that much. Not that he’d know really, since he didn’t have any friends to begin with. What a depressing realisation. “Ranpo has been kind enough to offer me his home. It is all I can do to help.”

The two stare at him for a moment before glancing at each other.

“Well.” Genichirou says and stands up with a stretch. “I’ll let the two of you figure out what you want to do. I’ll do my best and get back to you when I have news. Ranpo, call if you need anything.”

“Bye, Genichirou.” Ranpo says, blowing the older man a kiss. “I’ll call you tomorrow then, shall I?”

“Any day but tomorrow.” Genichirou narrows his eyes and then turns on his heel to leave the apartment.

The door shutting echoes through the silent room, and Ranpo lets out a sigh a moment later before climbing to his feet. “I only have one futon right now, will you be fine on the couch for the night?”

Bram nods.

“Okay then.” Ranpo points to the hallway closet. “Pillows and blankets there if you need more, otherwise, I bid you goodnight.”

Ranpo gives an exaggerated bow towards him before he too, leaves the room, and then it’s just him. He can hear Ranpo moving about in his room, faint noises coming through the wall closest to him and Bram waits for those noises to stop before he gets up and makes his way to the closet to grab a pillow or two.

Today hadn’t been the best of days, but compared to recent weeks, it was also the one that held the most amount of good in it, and that gave him a little bit of hope. A part of him knew that things weren’t going to be so simple and that he’d face plenty of challenges soon enough, but for now, he had a roof over his head, a job—one that he was yet to start—and a safe place away from Fyodor which is more than he could’ve asked for. Ranpo himself seems nice enough, if a bit blunt and sometimes cruel with his words, and his friends are certainly… different to the people that Bram used to interact with yet Ranpo seems to trust them so Bram will do the same.

One step at a time, that’s what he’ll do. And then maybe he can finally be happy.

Word Count: 9826

[appreciatingtokrev]

it’s true but some users do like to hide their age on here if they’re feel like they’re too old, I have seen blogs where 20’s or 18+ in their bio instead.

ah yh some users can be problematic about that. I’ve seen with most people that having friends with big age gap normally happen when they’re adults lol. also, I feel like that depends on the person and what’s their friend is like (?) regarding those experiences because I had talked to ppl with a year/two age gap too but I never felt like they opened my eyes to a whole another world.

that mean she must felt really bad then and it sound like she was nervous so probably just said the first thing that popped in her mind lol. ah, we all know each other and I wished the forgot friend a happy birthday since her one is a month before mine and before that i got her back together with the other friend that got annoyed so that’s probably why. she was annoyed though because she reacted with 🙃 when I told her 😂😂😂

it sound like Valentine must be her favourite occasion of the year then. do you know about white day ? oh I see so she probably get more excited towards the celebration as the relationship with her girlfriend become longer. it is a nice thing to see considering having a relationship like that mean the world for some people.

true true. personally believe you can never be too old (except when it comes to romantic/sexual relationships with minors or something-) but i do understand

yeah i’ve had other ppl online tell me off before bc i had a bunch of fourteen to sixteen year old friends at eighteen. i get where they’re coming from with all the grooming stuff and shit, but i was just genuinly friends with them 😭 like. i’m normal about my thirteen year old brother too?? we are very close and i could easily have the same fandom discussions with him. obviously i’d never do anything weird around minors??? you should definitely tell off people doing that but attacking adults solely for being friends/talking to minors when the conversations are all normal & the adult hasn’t done anything.. feels wrong to me. like if you can’t bring up any arguements, what’s the point? why tell me ‘‘omg you’re 18 stop interacting with a 14 year old!!’’ when the fourteen year old knows abt my age and actually approached me first 😭 idk there’s so much stupid age discourse. done with the topic now i’m tired of age discourse but i had to get it out of my system for once ajfjgjjsh

also, the world view thing definitely is a v personal thing. i’ve been in a class where most of my grade was pretty conservative and simply by talking to someone a grade above already helped a lot because they were more liberal lol. i think how much difference it can make is interesting ngl

yeah lol but i made sure she doesn’t have to feel bad about it (i hope) so it ended all well. oh well lmao

it’s definitely her fav holiday! i’ve heard of white day too but i don’t know much bc it isn’t celebrated here at all. tbh the only reason i kinda care abt it a tiny little bit is the official white day art we get in the genshin fandom lmao. she’s always been excited abt valentine’s day but yeah now she’s even happier <3 her gf & her are really cute together so i’m very happy for them! i’ve also known both of them for a few years, so i knew them before & when they got together, and i know that they both love each other lots :3

[wrenwreads]

wardrobe malfunctions

lady saves the day

pairing/s: edmund pevensie x princesss!reader

warnings: nothing

genre: fluff (idk rlly), strangers-to-friends

word count: 1.3k

a/n: i had an idea for this and literally i don’t even know what i wrote lmao. i had a vision but the vision was not seen afterwards. the kingdom mentioned in this fic is also like extra fictional so it doesn’t exist in narnia and is from my own head. i hope u still enjoy. once again, requests and questions are open 🫶

She could feel her hand itching. Itching to reach his shoulders and turn him around just to fix his up-turned collar and the bit of fabric that had managed to tuck itself in to his trousers.

The only problem being —

She hasn’t introduced herself yet.

High Kings and Queens of Narnia were way too busy entertaining a huge crowd around them, and based from her own experiences — she doesn’t want to involve herself just yet. So she waited.

But after seeing King Edmund’s wardrobe malfunctions, she was more than frustrated.

She doesn’t even know why she cared so much. Surely the king is able to do it himself. Maybe it was because of the annoying voice of her mum at the back of her head that constantly told her to fix the sleeves of her dress growing up. Or the idea that maybe someone will have noticed it themselves and decided to humiliate the king instead of helping — Aslan knows why people choose to do that rather than be the martyr.

So she stood at the corner — much to her parent’s dismay — and waited.

It came at last. Everyone decided to start dancing around the ball and she took her chance.

Her mother had introduced her to a kind gentleman, who she took the opportunity with to bring to the dance circle. “Just to let you be aware, I’m not looking for anything,” she said, pointedly looking at the man whose hand was on her waist. He chuckles, “Glad we are on the same page, my lady, for I have someone in particular very close to my heart,” he spoke, his tone full of adoration. She smiled, patting him on the shoulder as they both continued dancing. “I wish you all the best of luck. I am sure she is one beautiful lady.”

Three songs later and she finally made it closer to the king. Who — even after all those twists and turns — still wasn’t able to fix himself. She could only sigh at this point. They had switched partners a long time ago. Now she was with a lovely faun — Mr. Tumnus, he had introduced himself — and he had her smiling throughout their dance together. He was a lovely and kind faun indeed, no wonder the young Queen Lucy was so fond of him.

“I’ll see you around my lady, have fun with the king.”

And just like that, he spun her out of his arms and in to the arms of the one and only King Edmund the Just.

“Hello, your majesty”

She couldn’t help but not ignore how his eyes had widened briefly. “Hi”.

The timid answer from him had her smiling in pity. She almost felt bad for what she was going to do after. “Turn around,” she ordered under her breath. Edmund furrowed his brows in confusion, ducking his head down. “What?”

“I said turn around”.

It was probably from the way she had to grit her teeth to avoid shouting, but Edmund confusingly obliged.

Still moving their feet around, she began her mission.

Edmund suddenly felt fabric being pulled off his neck and other from his waist. Somehow, he felt more comfortable than before. The lady before him must have noticed, for she only smiled kindly when she turned him around. “You’re welcome,” she said, before doing a curtsy and leaving him behind on the dance floor.

It was when he only noticed the music had stopped and everyone else had too, catching their breaths. He brought his hand up to his collar — only to realise at why she had done the action so. Edmund looked around the room to look for her, but she was nowhere to be found. He mentally cursed himself for not introducing himself beforehand and catching her name.

Edmund made his way to where his siblings were stood, who were already looking at him incredulously. “What’s the matter this time?” Lucy asked. Edmund sighed heavily, a hand coming up to his face to wipe around his mouth. He looked back at his siblings, more so at Susan, the action not going unnoticed by the older girl. “Do you have something to say Ed?”

“Just… don’t get angry at me,” he reasoned out.

Susan only raised one eyebrow. Edmund took this as his signal, taking a big breath in before he spoke. “During the dance, I got to be partnered up with this girl…”

"I don't understand your problem?"

"Well... I thought she was a bit overbearing at first, telling me to turn around, but I followed and she sort of... fixed my collar and tail for me," he finished sheepishly, pursing his lips upon seeing Susan's almost horrified expression. "Didn't I tell you to fix yourself bef—"

"I did, Su! I promise, I did."

"It didn't sound like it. Did you thank her, at least?"

His silence was an enough answer for Susan. The older girl rolled her eyes, trying her best to keep her demeanor calm as they were after all, still at the party. Peter and Lucy, the ever so supportive siblings they were, only stood quiet — their chuckles making Edmund grit his teeth, refraining himself from uttering a single word to them. "What was she wearing? So we can thank her," Susan asked, her eyes searching around the ballroom.

Edmund dug through his brain for an answer.

"White, sort of, almost cream dress."

"That's helpful."

He rolled his eyes at the sarcastic remark.

"And, I don't know? Gold detailing—"

"Gold!?"

Lucy's outburst had caught Edmund's attention. What was so important about one dress that had gold in it?

"Why? What's with that ma—"

"Edmund..." Lucy scrunched her face in sympathy. Edmund had never been so confused in his whole life. He looked at Peter for an answer, although he wish he hadn't, for the smirk that had grown on his brother's face made him want to punch it off. "You may or may not have humiliated yourself in front of the Princess of Luvaria."

“Wha— what do you mean?”

“Did you already forget? The princess is literally known for the gold she puts on her dresses.”

Edmund pouts. "I did not humiliate myself," he argued.

"Your face says other wise, Ed."

The next morning, Edmund woke up frantic. The events of the night before frizzling his mind, he almost didn’t fall asleep.

Her name’s Y/N. Princess Y/N rather. From Luvaria. From all places, she had to be the Princess of Luvaria.

He was too caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t registered the voice talking to him.

“You’re majesty, are you alright?”

He blinked once. Twice. And suddenly, it was the Princess of Luvaria’s eyes on his. “Yes— yes! I’m alright, it’s just the early morning— you know and oh! Bloody hell where are my manners, good morning, you’re majesty,” he stumbled, body falling down in to a curtsy. The young lady in front of him only giggled, grabbing his shoulders to stand him up right again. ���None of that, your majesty. It’s Y/N to you. Although, I should be the one showing my respect, it is your kingdom after all,” she commented, gracefully bowing into a curtsy herself.

Edmund took the short moment to observe her. She was royalty, all right. With all her gracefulness and elegance, she lives up for the status of Luvaria. She looked more casual this time around, an everyday dress hugging her figure compared to the extravagant white and gold gown she had the night before.

“None of that either… Y/N,” the princess smiled warmly at the use of her name, “Edmund will do just fine. Have you had any breakfast yet?”

The question had her shaking her head as a no. Edmund smiled, offering his elbow for her, “Should we go together, then?”. Y/n accepted, placing her hand on the crook before the two walked together to the dining hall. “I must say Edmund, you look quite out together this morning,” she said. Edmund had to fight the urge to choke on air, desperately and silently trying to clear his throat. He was failing however as the princess beside was smirking. “Thank you — by the way — for last night,” he spoke, glancing down at her face.

“I hope you didn’t get into to much trouble.”

“Not really, mainly just Susan’s.”

thanks for reaching the end!!! hope u enjoyed, constructive criticism is highly appreciated and welcomed. xoxo

[rainchyna]

𓆩♡𓆪 episode two: The Torch.

first day on the job and y/n is already a needle mover??? icon behavior fr fr. i know it took a little for this ep to come out but i rly hope y’all like it 🫶🏽 it’s also kinda long my bad i got carried away lmao lmk what y’all think tho‼️

“i have an offer to make”

this couldn’t be bad. …well

it’s Vince McMahon. only so much can go wrong.

“surprise me” you challenge.

“so, one of our women, Alundra Blayze to be specific, she hasn’t been .. the most cooperative. we haven’t been seeing eye to eye exactly regarding her contract and we’ve decided to terminate it. that means tonight will be her last Raw” he said.

you could feel that he was pointing to something, but to be completely honest, you had no idea where this was going. again, this is Vince McMahon, anything can happen. you’ve heard of Alundra before and have seen some of her matches. she’s pretty damn good.

Vince leaned back in his chair, “I have no issue with her leaving the company, the only issue is that she’s currently the women’s champion, and she’s considering signing with WCW” he explained.

“okay..?” you mumbled, confused.

“I want you to become the women’s champion” he stated.

your eyes widened, and you aggressively blinked shocked at what he was saying. “you want me as champion?” you ask, he nods. “this quickly?” you ask again and he nods. he looked a bit angry and seemed quite pissed at the fact that Alundra is leaving.

“has anyone won a title on their debut match, like .. ever?” you ask

“why don’t you be the first one?” he suggests.

that sounded insane. it two ways.

you were concerned about how Alundra would react to being stripped off of her title. did she know this was going to happen? was she okay with it? not that it mattered really, it was her last day her anyways, but you couldn’t help but over think.

on the other hand, you felt giddy. excited. you were going to debut, and win the women’s title on the same night? sounds like absolute fun. hopefully the WWF crowd reacts well, you just needed their support and that’s all that matters.

“are you sure this is a good idea? i don’t want the crowd to turn on me on my first day” you hesitantly say. he shakes his head, “don’t worry about it, they’ll love you. i just need to know if you’re on board” he says.

“i’m in” you say, you can almost see the cogwheels turn in Vince’s head as he looks down at his desk.

“i have a lot planned for you, you know?” he says, half zoned out. you smile, “that’s great to know”.

2:37 pm, catering.

“so what did Vince want?” Lita asked. should you tell her? it’s not like she’s not going to know, everyone will at the end of the night.

but what if Vince was using this as an opportunity to know wether or not you’re the type to blab about plans publicly?

“Y/n?” Chyna asked noticing you zoned out, “oh, we just talked about my debut later” you answer, sipping on some orange juice. you weren’t exactly lying, but you also didn’t want to spoil the show.

“that’s cool” Chyna said, “i hope we work with each other a lot” she added. “yeahhh” Lita smiled. “is this what you’re wearing later?” Chyna asked. you look down at yourself, you completely forgot that you’re still wearing your unofficial gear.

“i’m still figuring it out” you fix your hat, “i want something that’ll scream ‘y/n is here!’ y’know” you say. Chyna hums, “i think you should get something custom made” she suggests.

“any ideas?” you ask, Lita sits up. “shorts! but leather, kinda like same design as my pants, but shorts, y'know. and a top like Chyna’s, keep the coat ‘cause it looks cool” Lita says.

“i think the top should be white instead of black, to make it resemble you New Japan gear” Chyna said. “oooh, what if i wrap a white ribbon around the hat and wear white boots with my name on them?” you propose. “see that sounds pretty!” Lita says.

the mental image of that looks really pretty. “how am i supposed to get those done quickly though?” you ask.

“i have someone that’ll do it, don’t worry about it” Chyna winked.

these two are the real ones.

all three of you continued chatting about random segments and matches Chyna and Lita had, until you were interrupted.

“excuse me Y/n?” a staff member approached you, “yeah?” you reply, “there’s someone who would like to see you” he stated.

you look back at the girls concerned and they mirror your look, “okay” you say getting up. you walk behind the staff member down the hallway, until you’re lead to the … rehearsals ring hall?

“there” he pointed towards one of the rings, “thanks..” you say slowly stepping in. you walk towards the ring the man pointed at, and you can see someone sitting there. they look at you, getting up and leaning against the top rope. is that…?

“you’re Y/n, right?” she asked.

Alundra Blayze.

the blonde had a smile on her face, but you can tell she looked tired. “yeah! nice to meet you!” you smile, stepping in between the ropes. she gave you a hug which took you by surprise a bit, but after all, you’re the one taking her spot as champion. you might as well warm up to each other.

“i’m assuming Vince told you..?” you say, you both sit down on the ring mat. she chuckled, “i wish he told me directly” she began. “overheard him discussing it with one of the producers” she explained. your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, if he can tell you directly, he can tell her too.

“well that’s rude” you say taking off your hat putting beside you. “and unprofessional” she adds. “i wanted to discuss with you our match later, ‘cause if i’m gonna go out, i wanna go out with a bang y’know?” she said. you nod, “oh yeah, i get it”.

you both began building your match. Alundra would go out and issue an open match to any who wished to get a shot at her title, then you’d come out. you were responsible for the highflying spots in the match and she would bring in some technical wrestling.

you both found yourself fantasizing about spots you’d like to do, it felt really good knowing that you both were on the same page before even meeting each other.

she seemed like such a sweet person, you couldn’t help but feel a bit sad about her leaving.

“Y/n” she said, she look very determined yet a bit upset. there was change in the air. everything felt very serious all of a sudden. “yeah?”

“i know we barely know each other, but i want you to promise me” she began, placing her hand on your shoulder. oh, this is that kind of serious.

she got up and jumped off of the ring, you couldn’t see what she was doing but she seemed to be grabbing something. as soon as she sat back down next to you, you knew where this was going.

she placed the women’s championship between you.

“do not let this belt lose it’s value” she said, looking deep into your eyes. “i’ve seen a lot of your work in Japan, and i know what you’re capable of. Vince never took women in wrestling seriously, and I want you to change that. I want you to be that change” she explained.

“there’s no place for women in this company” she sighed “but there soon will be, i trust you with the championship. I hope you can put some respect on our name in this industry”.

it felt like a lot of weight was placed on your shoulders, but she was right. you’re here to wrestle and to make a name for yourself. everyone deserves respect in this business, everyone. women deserved a chance, and it’s time to make some changes around here.

“I promise”.

9:00 pm, RAW.

“it’ll only be six minutes, and that’s the end of it!”

you and Alundra just left gorilla after arguing with Vince about your match. he wanted it to only be six minutes but the match you planned was twenty minutes long, now way will you have even began the match at the six minute mark.

you both were very fucking angry. this was Alundra’s last match was your debut match, the least he can do is be a little generous. but okay.

okay.

you knew what you were going to do, this match is twenty minutes and it will be twenty minutes, because you fucking said so.

“what are we gonna do now?” Alundra asked. it wasn’t looking good for you two, but what looked good was tonight’s card.

UNDERTAKER VS. GIANT GONZALES

THE HART FOUNDATION VS. THE ALLIED POWERS

*ALUNDRA BLAYZE VS. Y/N Y/L/N (women’s title)*

OWEN HART VS. THE RING MASTER.

1-2-3 KID VS. RAZOR RAMON

FAROOQ VS. GOLDUST

BIG VAN VADER VS. BAMBAM BIGELOW

D'LO BROWN VS. AHMED JOHNSON

SYCHO SID VS. SHAWN MICHAELS

your match was right after the Hart Foundation's and you knew you could get Bret to do something. now, you weren't going to ask him to talk to Vince about it, because if you're the one wrestling and he's doesn't want to listen to you, he obviously will not listen anyone else.

"stay here, I'll be back" you say. you quickly jog your way to the men's locker room as show had began and the first match was about to start. you knock on the door and Bret and Jimmy come out to. "I need y'alls help" you breathe out.

you explain the predicament that Vince put you in and they are both visibly agitated by Vince's decisions. "now, I may be asking for too much but is there anyway you guys can shorten your match?" you ask.

both men are quite for some time, and it feels like all it's over.

Bret hums, "how much time do you need?" Jimmy asks. you're a little surprised, "wait really?" you ask, "and don't worry about Davey and Lex, I'll tell them" Bret said, hand on your shoulder. "like ten, twelve minutes" you say.

"you got it" Jimmy said.

"I owe you one, big time" you sigh, "don't stress it" Bret pats your head.

both men make it back into the locker room and you can hear Bret call out to Lex and Davey. thank god for them.

you jog back to Alundra, who was anxiously standing where you left her playing with her hands. "I bought us time! we'll do it all" you smile and Alundra physically relaxes. "thank fuck, oh my god". you quickly run her down through what's going to happen, before hearing your name being called from down the hallway.

you look behind you and it was Chyna and Lita, "just another moment please'" you say. you head in their direction and they spot you. "what's up?" you ask, "your gear is ready!" Chyna says handing you some folded clothes, "c'mon, I need to see you in it" Lita enthusiastically said.

everything was going great.

9:20 RAW.

you and Alundra closely watch the boys' match, you look down at your watch. it's going to end any moment now, right now, come on...

Bret slipped through the ropes and landed outside the ring, the referee ran out to check on him, and almost immediately held up the 'X' sign. you both jump to your feet, "we should stand by gorilla, right?" Alundra asked, you didn't hear what she said. you were concerned that Bret was actually hurt, but a part of you wanted to believe that that was his way to end the match early.

"y/n?"

"h-huh? oh yeah, let's go"

as soon as you approached gorilla all you could hear is chaos. from doctor's rushing to check up on Bret, to Vince freaking out over the time that was going to be wasted.

you pass by Davey, Lex, and Jimmy who winks at you.

he must be okay.

"BRING ME Y/L/N AND BLAYZE!" Vince bellows, "WHERE THE HELL ARE THEY? WE CAN'T STOP HERE!" he screams. you smirk at each other, before entering gorilla with innocence as a halo above your heads.

"what happened?" you ask, lips in a barely visible pout and brows furrowed. "is he okay?" Alundra asks referring to Bret. "LISTEN, listen. I need you two to go out there right now" Vince explained, "the show can't stop." he adds.

it was so funny seeing him panic over an episode of RAW, what would he have done if this was a pay-per-view?

"can we use up the extra time?" you ask, Vince answers without thinking, "do whatever the fuck you want, just put on a goddamn show!" he says settling back into his seat.

"are you sure?" Alundra asks, "will you draw me money?" Vince asks. you quickly nod, "you got it" you say.

less than a minute later, Blayze was out in the ring. you fluffed you hair and adjusted your boots. 'Y/N' was written on them, on the waistband of your new shorts and the ribbon on your hat.

you breathed in, then out. you felt more excited than anything.

"to any woman back there, if you want to try to beat me for this championship, this is your chance. come at me, no disqualifications, so you can do whatever you want. this is an open challenge and any of you are welcome" she boasted.

the tips of your fingers began feeling tingly, and you couldn't contain your smile. you began fiddling with the microphone you were handed.

then your New Japan theme hit.

as you walked out onto the ramp, your pyro went off, and that was the loudest crowd pop you've ever heard. it was so loud, and they cheered for so long. the fireworks made for such an amazing visual, and your titantron displayed your standing at the top of the ramp with a huge smile.

it felt so good being in front of a crowd again.

you walk down towards the ring, and bring the microphone to your mouth. "you said anyone?" you smirk, and crowd cheers again.

"anyone." Alundra nods.

you both throw your microphones to the ground and you slide into the ring. you take off your coat and hat, and the referee rings the bell.

and to say that the fans were invested in every last thing you two did, would be an understatement.

from every kick, to every punch. every flying elbow to every submission hold. this was the first women's match to truly feel like one in a hot ass minute, and they way you were fighting each other made it feel like the title meant something to you both.

it was so fun. it was your first night here and the fans felt fully invested in your match.

and everything got more interesting when the fight moved outside of the ring. you picked Blayze up and put her right through that damned spanish announcement table, to a thunderous pop. Jim Ross and King Lawler's commentary made it all the better.

you threw her back into the ring and locked in and 'Bank Statement', and another pop deafened you. you were facing the main camera, and Alundra began reaching out to the lower ropes only for you to shift your weight on her and move your legs to stomp on her hand. the crowd cheered again.

she held on for as long as she could before tapping out.

and just when you thought the crowd couldn't get any louder, they did. you pull away from Blayze and the referee calls for the bell to be rung, the arena felt like it was on fire.

you stood up both hands in the air, and the referee announced you as the winner. Alundra stood up and asked for the referee to give her the belt.

you both stood in the middle of the ring as she handed you the belt, successfully passing the torch. you both hugged and by now the crowd was chanting your name.

you pull away from her, "thank you" you smile as you raise her arm up.

9:42 pm, backstage.

you knew you had gone over the time you had, even over the extra time you were given and you were ready to take the tongue lashing you were about to get for it.

you walk through the curtains into gorilla, and what you saw scared you a little more than it should've. Vince was sat in his seat in front of a monitor, with a smile that could've stretched from ear to ear. you and Alundra look at each other nervously.

"uhm.." you begin as you walk up to Vince, "was that alright?" you ask. "alright?" he asked, "that was fucking phenomenal!" he said, and the relief that washed over you was unmatched.

"that was hands-down the best women's match I've ever seen! it was so good, and all the spots - especially that table one - were fantastic and fans clearly loved it." he praised, he walked over to you and gave you a hug, then shook Alundra's hand. "I should've listened to you" he said, head a little low.

you smile, good. great.

you walk to your locker room, championship slung over you shoulder. you could pat yourself on the back right now. you saw something hang off of your door, it looked like... a paper? as you got closer, you realize it was note. you grab the little yellow paper and read what's written, it was a little hard to read since the handwriting was a little messy.

'I'd like to have a word with you' - Undertaker.

huh?