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aggieharkness · 3 days ago

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A garden of sorrows shall bloom into hope.

Pairing: Joan Ramsey x reader

Summary: love can never be evil. Love should never be cruel or selfish but listen and comfort. Love could never have a form or fit in a mold as it is a feeling so deep that it shapes one's very soul. Love was at Joan's feet and she was cradling it, on her knees.

Warnings: religious trauma, mentions of murder and death, grief, child loss, isolation, buuuuut things get better cause there's fluff

Author's note: I'm sorry it has taken me so long to post this, but I wanted it to be good because it's a Joan story and she's a really complex character. I hope you all like it and I do hope that you can all see it as a Valentine's story. Special shout-out to @bravewithacapitalb for being my Beta Reader when she's got her own thing going. I love you girl. Sorry @delusionalforolderwomen but it's not Libby (don't be mad 🥺) . As always, do tell me how it looks, if you all like it or if there are things I need to change. I accept constructive criticism. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Joan Ramsey but curse the writers for not giving us more scenes with her. If she evil why shaped like such a cutie pie?!

Happy Valentine's!

Words: 12 K (No comment)

A garden of sorrows shall bloom into hope.

Say you’ll remember me, standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset. The radio never ceased its incessant pour of songs, most of them speaking of love and romance and futures that held no pain, only promises. Lies, all lies. Joan couldn’t help but scoff as the words went on, a goodbye to a loved one, someone who had meant something and who still held a special place in the singer’s heart, she thought, a foolish message that would fall on deaf ears. Or dead ears. The house was cold, silence creeping around every corner, making the wood creak and whine under its weight, curtains drawn and windows closed, not even a small breeze breaking into the house. She had no one to remember her by, not a soul left in her meaningless life that would hold her at night or sign with her in the kitchen while she cooked, only bitter memories and regret at her actions. The almighty had forsaken her, abandoned her in a vast land of sins and pain that she couldn’t escape from, and in the centre of all that fire and destruction that had become her life, she stood alone.

She laid in bed each night hoping she would not open her eyes the next day, unable to cope with everything that had happened, with the thoughts that she once had had a husband and son that she had loved more than herself and now only smoke was left, swirling in between her fingers, unable to grasp them, unable to fix what was broken. Joan barely ate, what little appetite she had vanishing every time she stepped into the house hoping to hear Luke, to even hear her late husband speaking on the phone to some client or other, only to be met by silence, that deafening noise that seeped into her bones. And today, was no different. She sat at the head of her oak dining table, a glass and bottle of red wine sitting in front of her as the radio played in the background trying to fill up the room with something that wasn’t the brutal sorrow that had overtaken her body. Her hair was piled on the back of her head, held by a black claw clip that dug onto her scalp, her bangs brushing her eyelids each time she blinked, but she showed no sign that it was bothering her, a few short random strands framing her face.

Months had passed since she had lost Luke, since she had let her own madness take him from her, the Devil’s work she had thought back then, and she was no closer to getting over it than the oceans were to drying up. No matter how much she tried to find an excuse, a reason as to why she had done all she had she could not, and it frightened her how lost she was, how little the scriptures she had once held onto as if they were oxygen to her meant to her now, only words in a worn book that brought no comfort. When had she stopped walking the path of the Lord? She had been His humble servant, and he had only put stones on her path that as the years went by, she had more trouble climbing, winning each trial he set before her with more difficulty each time. Had he been testing her faith all along or had he never cared for her? She was one of his children, and he cared for all of them equally and yet she felt… alone. Even when she had first gotten married she had felt alone, sitting in an empty house waiting for her beloved to walk through the front door to a warm delicious dinner and the sweetest, loving smile she could muster on her face. He had never truly seen her, pushing her aside without her noticing, or perhaps she had been aware, and she had been far too terrified of being left behind that she had let him.

The wine in her glass was sweet, her favourite kind, and it tinted her rosy lips as she took a sip, but as it slid down her throat it became sour, bitter on her tongue. Nothing tasted right anymore, the air around her didn’t smell as fresh as it once had, dusty, perhaps even musky and it clashed with the aroma of her perfume and shampoo, vanilla and sandalwood, in a nauseating manner that didn’t help her empty stomach. The song had ended a while ago, something different playing, raking in her ears like nails on a board, but she had no desire to stand and turn it off. She could not face the silence once more, it was poisoning her, killing her as the minutes passed by, the clock on the wall ticking in a perfect rhythm. So I'll dance with your ghost in the living room and I'll play the piano alone. What ghosts? The ones that she had caused or the ones that haunted her every second of every day? Could your eyes be considered a ghost? She had seen you arrive a few months ago, shortly after the incident with Luke, and as Joan’s big brown eyes had settled on your form, through the living room window, she could not help but admire the agility and grace with which you moved. It was a change from the way the girls in that school flaunted themselves, and in her heart, she felt a pang of sadness imagining how different you would be in only a few weeks. Probably condescending and with an air of superiority taught to you by Fiona, losing everything that made you so unique. She was proven wrong.

You had been warned about Joan, told about what she had done and how you were supposed to steer clear of her, but you didn’t. It had taken you several days to warm up to the idea of knocking on her door, a tray of homemade cookies in your hands, hoping your new housemates and teachers wouldn’t give you detention for breaking their rules, but there was something inside you that was curious, drawn to this unknown woman everyone seemed to hate. There were questions no one had ever bothered to ask to get the whole picture, and you intended to gather your own information and form your own opinions about her before you condemned her, after all she was nothing but a name to you. The instant the doors had opened your mind erased all preconceived ideas. She was beautiful, her perfectly straight hair framing a face of prominent cheeks and plump lips, a most exquisite pink hue tainting her skin, her features unique and utterly breathtaking. She had observed you quietly for a moment or two, curiosity glazing her eyes and she had not expected anyone to come knocking on her door, much less you, the new girl, but she could not say, not even now, that she was displeased by having another human being speak with her.

And it had taken her completely by surprise just how kind you were, how softly you spoke to her, and how unbothered you seemed to be by what she had done. Perhaps you hadn’t known? No, she had seen the hesitation at first in those beautiful eyes of yours, the way you held yourself at a prudent distance as if she could cause you harm, but when she had greeted you, Joan’s voice hoarse from not having spoken a single word in days those doubts had melted into nothing, ice under the sun. Of course, she was aware of what you were, of the power you held within you, and she had been wary of what you might do to her if you changed your mind about how you felt about her in the middle of the conversation, but that never happened, not for an instant did your interest sway from her and only her, no past tainting your ever-growing opinions. After she took the plate of cookies, a quiet thank you slipping from her rosy lips, the aroma of chocolate and sugar making her mouth water, your semblance took on a more sombre aura and with the utmost respect words of sympathy left your mouth, falling of the tip of your tongue like rain on a desert. And for the first time she felt as if someone actually cared about her pain, as if someone who could see her grief and sorrow and not just the actions that had unleashed it all. Tears had gathered in her eyes at that, only managing a nod as a lump formed in her throat preventing her from speaking, barely hanging on by a thread, and thankfully you understood. As you turned around to leave, your hand brushed over Joan’s wilting roses and like magic they blossomed once again, soft pink petals gleaming under the warm sunlight.

That first time she saw you haunted her to this day, the way your hair shone under the golden light of the full sun, how your flowy dress swayed in lazy waves around your legs in the warm breeze, the way your eyes had instantly bewitched her with their honesty and their caring gaze. You had known nothing but horrible things about her and yet you had had the courage of meeting her and treating her with kindness. She hadn’t known such a feeling since she was a young girl, not even her church acquaintances had bothered to show her an ounce of mercy and care when everything had unfolded before her, when hell had broken loose in her life. If God was supposed to love her, why had he closed his eyes at her pleas and let her wander into a dark path that had no exit? Each day became unbearable, long, dragging out until her tired body could not remain awake a moment longer even if all she had done was sit in her living room and let her guilt pushed her to the ground and stomp on her. The only moments of joy she lived were when you made it your own personal mission to get her to walk out onto the porch of the garden, her dressed hugging her frame looser every time you saw her, her skin losing that healthy glow that had adorned her that first time. It broke your heart just how everyone had cast her aside without asking why. Things were so much more complicated that she let on, you could sense it, but you never pushed her into spilling her secrets to you, highly doubting she had faced those terrors since they had happened.

You were indeed the only ghost she ever wanted in her life, floating through the halls of her house and whispering her name in her ear as soon as the sun set on the horizon, her bedroom bathed in the cool like of a full moon. But she had pushed you away, like the coward she was, afraid of what was blossoming in between the cracks of her broken heart, shards of red glass spread inside her chest. She had never thought anyone would be able to pick them up and put them together again, that someone who take an interest in a lost woman like herself, and as you had held her hand for the first time a week ago Joan had crumbled like a house of cards. She had melted into your touch, your smile lighting up the entire city as you pulled her out of her house and down the street, laughing and talking a thousand miles per minute about nothing and everything. She had listened to your every word, the sound of your voice a balm for her wounds as she let you to take her to the ends of the world, but when she had realised what was happening, that she had fallen for you she had pulled her hand from yours, forcing you to halt your steps and turn to her with a confused look on your face. Had you said or done something wrong? Why did she seem so upset all of a sudden? Without a word she had taken a step back from you, horror painting her features before she had run back to her house. She had refused to turn back as you called out her name, each time with a more pained tone, because if she had she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t have kissed you right there on the street, and she couldn’t be in love with someone like you.

What a joke it was now to think she had been so terrified of having something with you when the “Good book” was nothing more than a paper weight on her dining table. Verses about love sounded empty, just as hollow as was the void in her chest, the accusatory sermons she had heard over the years about what was supposed to be a happy marriage, how love should feel and look nothing more than poppycock as they echoed in her mind. I'm so scared that the moments we shared won't happen again. I don't want this to end. The radio had changed yet again, and it seemed to Joan as if it was connected to her, expressing what she could not bring herself to voice, terrified that if she opened up her heart all those verses that had been carved into her very being would crush her, punish her for not being who she was taught to be. But how could she carry on lying to herself? The Joan that had been blinded by God’s words had done things that should have made you run away, and yet you stayed, came back to her whenever she needed you without expecting anything but a smile in return. The Joan that now sat all alone in her big empty house, filled with demons brought by her own hand, could feel nothing knowing that the only chance at redeeming herself had been right there, in the palm of her hand and she had run away from it. You could have been the star that made her retrace her steps to the beginning of the road.

Like a leaf that falls from a tree, the cold breeze of winter making it sway from side to side, its broken edges slicing through the air, a single tear fell from her eyes, the crystal drop sliding down her cheek. It fell on her lap, sour and full of regret, and the once delicious wine tasted like a vile concoction the instant it touched her lips, but she forced herself to drink as if it could numb the pain of her past while her soft eyes stared at her bleak future, clouds only getting darker. No, it wasn’t God who punishing her, it was obvious he didn’t care enough about her to even do so, she was flagellating herself as if that could make the blood she had on her hands vanish, refusing to let anyone love her, crushing her own feelings as if she didn’t have the right to find happiness once again. She who is without sin, cast the first stone. The words stung her skin, fingers gripping the glass harder to the point where her knuckles turned white, the thin crystal cup threatening to shatter and splash wine and shards everywhere, but she didn’t stop. She could never pick up said stone, she could never throw it unless it was at herself, because she had done nothing but commit sin after sin thinking that they were justified, that she was being a good Christian woman when in truth she had strayed from the path long ago. Who was she following now? The Church? The Devil? Perhaps there was no one on the other side of those empty words preached every Sunday. Ain't it funny how time shows you, you know nothing.

The song finished, leaving a few seconds of complete silence to fill up the room, the flames of a few candles Joan had lit an hour ago or so the only source of light, casting wavy shadows onto the wood. When had everything gone wrong? With a silly voice the person doing the program on the radio spoke about the playlist they had ready for the next forty-five minutes, every song a message of love for everyone who celebrated this special holiday. Another scoff fell from Joan’s lips; it was Valentine’s Day, of course. She had barely left the house in the last three days, she had not seen the millions of flowers and balloons that filled up the stores, not the way your frame had been glued to your bedroom window hoping to get a glimpse of her, wondering why the sudden reluctance and fear of you. She hated the holiday, it felt frivolous, cold to her, and she hadn’t really had anyone to celebrate it with since Luke had been a child, her husband always busy, always emotionally unavailable, the house waiting for a bouquet that never arrived, a ring that remained at the store, a box of chocolate that went stale on the shelf where it rested. She had been s deep in thought that it took her a couple of minutes to hear the doorbell, the shrill sound almost making her ears bleed. She only wanted to be left alone so she could get drunk in her own sorrow until she could no longer breathe, but whoever was on the other side of her front door was not giving up, and after switching between knocks and that horrid bell for over five minutes Joan stood, the chair scraping angrily over her wooden floors.

She was angry at the interruption, and it showed in the way her heels echoed as she made her way to the door, grabbing the knob and throwing it wide open, the glass rattling as it hit the wall. Whatever she was going to say to whoever was on the other side faded into the ether as her eyes were met with the sight of a sea of flowers at her feet, a rainbow of colours gleaming under the soft light of the full moon that shone high up in the night sky. There were dozens of roses of every shade imaginable sprawled over the white pine wood, tulips, sunflowers, and what seemed a thousand more flowers resting in between. She was no stranger to gifts, small things that didn’t mean much like an old perfume or a silver bracelet in which her name was spelled wrong, but this was a whole new level. On the stairs, kneeling before Joan, you looked up at her, a lovely white dress subtly hugging your figure while a blue box rested on the palms of your hands. You had never looked so perfect before, smiling kindly up at her as your eyes held her gaze, something she couldn’t quite recognise dancing like stars on your irises, sparkling with a life that pulled her towards you like a magnet. Her brown heels took one single step forward, the wood creaking under her weight, her hand falling slowly from the doorknob and coming to rest on her side, her lips parted in surprise, a slight red colour lingering from the wine.

-Y/N? – her voice sounded so raspy and raw, as if she hadn’t used it since the day she left you, and perhaps she had. No one had come to visit her ever since you had moved in next door, it would be no surprise, but that didn’t mean it was a pleasant thought.

-Hello, Joan.

-What are you doing here? What’s all this?

-121 flowers. One for each day I’ve known you, and all of them as an apology for whatever I did wrong the other day.

-This must have cost a fortune. – her feet brushed the soft petals of a purple tulip as her body moved closer to yours of its own accord, almost as if your skin was calling out to hers, her heart racing against her ribs nearly painfully.

-That doesn’t matter, you are worth this and much more, Joan.

-But why? – she had never felt so conflicted before, wishing you would take her in your arms and never let her go but knowing that whatever this was, if it was ever something and not just a hallucination of her mind, wasn’t right. But then why did she feel like you were her saviour and guide? Part of her would follow you blindly like Mary had followed Christ, sharing your burdens and kneeling at the foot of your cross ready to gather you in her arms. But the other held her back, keeping her in a prison that was her own mind, prejudices that had been taught to her all her life making her feel as if what her heart was saying to her, whispers spoken from in between the cracks, would condemn her to an eternity of pain. But wasn’t she already living like that? You had stood from your spot on the stairs, analysing the sadness that had laced her question as you stepped closer to her, barely a foot separating you, the blue box you had been holding now resting on the floor next to your feet.

-Because you don’t deserve what you are going through. I don’t care how many times Fiona tells me you are dangerous and that I can’t see you. I know you would do me no harm. I have heard your story on a loop from mouths that weren’t yours for months and it doesn’t seem fair. They have no right to tell your story.

-But they do, and people listen to them. Do yourself a favour Y/N and go home.

Was she really about to give up on the only thing that had made her truly happy in years? Her hand hesitated to touch you, knowing it would be even harder to let you go the moment her touch starved soul caressed yours, but she indulged herself, at least one last time, and took your hand in hers, her thumb rubbing your soft skin. All the way from the dining hall a new song played, and it couldn’t have been a most perfectly cruel choice. Don't you know I'm no good for you? I've learned to lose you. Joan truly fought to keep her composure, to not break down before you had walked away, but you didn’t move and with the way you were looking at her as if she was the sun, the moon and all the stars combined her carefully crafted walls collapsed. Tears fell down her cheeks in quick succession, burning her flesh, and she almost expected you extract your hand from hers and leave her standing there drowning in her own grief the same way everyone else had, but your warmth never left.

You had never known of anyone who deserved love more than Joan, and at the sight of her tears, her very soul conflicted with who she was at this point in her life, unsure of what she wanted and what she felt she had the right to ask for, all translated into the tears that fell like sharp diamonds all the way to the cold hard wood under her feet you threw caution to the wind and gathered her in your arms. Her breath caught in her throat when she felt the palms of your hands on her back pressing her against your warm body, a sea of flowers and fallen petals in a circle around your feet, the sweet aroma enfolding her as much as your embrace did. Her thin dress was no obstacle for your heat to seep into her bones, easing all the aches that had settled deeply within her, listening to the way your heart beat slowly, almost in a perfect rhythm. But it was the touch of your lips, soft and tender, on her temple that had her sobbing into the crook of your neck. She could not do it, she could not watch you slip through her fingers after all the pain she had gone through, your presence the only thing she ever wanted in her life. My love, my love, my love, my love. Won't you stay a while?

You would stay for all eternity if that’s what she wanted, if it meant healing her and seeing her smile as you shared the smallest of things, watching her find her own path, her own light and purpose out of all the teachings that had turned her into a woman she hadn’t recognised when standing in front of the mirror. Your fingers traced lazy patterns in between her shoulder blades as your other hand held her gently against your frame by the back on her neck, her tears leaving wet patches on your dress, though you cared very little about it. A chill drifted under the roofed porch, riding up Joan’s spine and making her shiver but she didn’t move, the grip her hands had on your gown making her knuckles turn white. If loving you, caring about you was such a horrible thing, a temptation from the Devil, why did it feel as if she was walking the heavens now that she was in your arms? Was she willing to risk eternal damnation in exchange for a lifetime with you? You had come back to her even after her fears and doubts had made her run away, and you had brought her a flower for every single day you had known each other; no one had ever done such a thing for her, she could not even recall the last time she had been given a single lilting flower, let alone 121.

-You don’t need to be so strong all the time Joan. Let yourself grief, I will be here to hold you and take what you can’t carry. Don’t believe for an instant that you are undeserving of love or understanding. Those who have not lived it all in your skin cannot see and feel the truths hidden in your mind. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Your voice was calm, soothing as each word fell from your lips like rain after a long draught and it filled every cell in her body with a sense of peace that halted her sobs and made her lift her head from your shoulder, red, puffy eyes locking onto yours. Were you an angel sent to her to return her to the rightful path, to the road built in the truths that were never written and therefor never changed, each stone an action that had no other witness but Him? There could be wrong in the way her heart raced as your words sunk deeply withing the cracks, no evil clouding her mind, making her stray for she was now exactly where she was meant to be, and your touch was nothing but glorious, a rejoicing song against her skin. Her face was only inches away from yours, your eyes counting every freckle that adorned her nose and cheeks, such an intimate position reminding her that that was the closest she had been to another person in years. The traces of a life she didn’t want to go back to lingered in everything she did and everything she said, habits that would take an entire lifetime to erase and yet she was willing to do so, as long as you were right beside her, reassuring her that everything would be alright every time those demons that haunted her came to claw at her free will, tempting her to fall back into the darkness she currently resided in, regret and fear her only companions.

Her chocolate eyes hid thousands of secrets, of untold stories that you wanted to hear, but not because you were a curious person or a gossip, which you supposed you were to a certain extent, but because they were simply hers and everything that belonged to her was, everything that was her, meant the world to you. You did not fight the feeling of your heart jumping a bit as you held her gaze, falling down rivers of sorrow and happiness that run underneath long oak bridges, their path taking you to where Joan’s broken soul laid, cracks running deeply from side to side as the light within her quivered dimly under the weight of everything that had happened. Your gentle hands could not heal the ill nor make the dead rise, but they could hold her steady as the wounds stitched themselves together, no more blood pooling in that void that had formed in her chest. The late-night breeze carried the words of song Joan didn’t know, sweet notes that danced in between specks of dust, floating lazily, twirling in a waltz that no one saw. And even though she was unfamiliar with the music, it somehow made your eyes glint under the silvery beams that bathed the pavement, moonlight casting a spell over the city, away from the yellow lights of the streetlamps. Now, I've thought it through. Crawling back to you.

Over glass and burning embers, you would crawl on your hands and knees back to her, even if the world turned against you, even if there was nothing else worth living for, she would be the only reason you drew breath every morning as dawn broke through the horizon and as the thick veil of night covered the sky. The petals scattered on the floor glowed under the pearly beams, reflecting on Joan’s sun-kissed skin, translucent rainbows lingering on her cheeks, dripping over her full lips like honey, slow and perfectly sweet. Her hands didn’t want to release your dress, afraid you might vanish before her eyes and her brain realised that all this had been nothing but bitter dream induced by the lack of sleep and the wine, another punishment she was inflicting on herself, but she still did it, her fingers stiff as they released the warm fabric, discomfort building in her hands at the hard grip she had had on you. Your touch lingered for an instant longer, but when her arms fell to her sides you understood the moment had passed, and as much as your words were still echoing inside Joan’s mind, your fingers tenderly brushed the skin of her neck one last time before cold meet the spots where your warmth seeping from your palms had been.

It was a most odd sensation to feel a shiver running down her spine at the lack of your touch on her, wishing your hands were still on her. She could hardly recall when had been the last time her husband had held her hand, let alone kiss her on the cheek or look at her they way your eyes did, no fear or disgust shinning over them. She could not remember if anyone had ever bothered to go to the extents you had to show her they cared, to do something with a meaning, not just to fill up the purpose of the holiday and get her off their backs, and make her feel like perhaps there was hope for her. Standing in separate circles once again, you took the opportunity to kneel at her feet and pick up a single flower, a most perfect pink lily that Joan hadn’t noticed before, a little trick you had had up your sleeve, and in the most gentlemanly manner you could muster bowed and handed it to her. Her lips broke into a giddy smile, unable to stop it even if she had wanted to, her slender fingers taking hold of the stem and bringing it to her nose, the rich floral accents that fell from its petals, bright and deep pink tones painted on the inside with the utmost care as the edges stood out in a pristine white, never overshadowing the other, only blending to perfection as pastel pink dots laid scattered over the soft floral leaf, filling her lungs.

-Its beautiful Y/N. Thank you. – her timid smile was partially hidden by the flower, resting gently over her rosy lips, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t seen it or hadn’t noticed the tint that was spreading over her cheeks, a most enchanting shade of red complimenting her doe eyes.

-I’m glad you like it, but I’m not done yet. I have a few more things planned for us. That is of course, if… you want to be my Valentine.

-Your… your Valentine? Me?

-Yes. There’ no one else in the entire planet that I would rather spend this day with than you, Joan. Not a soul. – you had rendered her speechless for a moment, the thought of you actually asking her such a thing never having crossed her mind, which was foolish really. You had done all this because you wanted to spend this holiday with her. She was aware that her smile was that of a shocked by lovesick teenager now, her heart fluttering like butterflies trapped in a cage begging to be released, using the lily as a shield to hide her ever-growing blush from your piercing by kind eyes.

-I… I think I would like that. Very much.

-Then please, take this as a token of my affections for you.

She had completely forgotten about the blue box that rested next to your feet, a white ribbon tying it closed so its contents wouldn’t be spilt all over her front porch, Joan’s eyes watching as your body quickly bent over to pick it up. She still held the flower in between her fingers, cool under its touch, as you presented yet another gift to her, curiosity peeking for the second time that night, but she didn’t want to let go of the lily, and so with quick hands she placed it on the side of her head, the smooth petals caressing her temple as the she secured the flower by threading the stem in between a few locks of hair and the claw clip that held the silky strands on the back of her head. She would wear it all night long and put it in a vase with water next to her bed when the day was done and sleep began to creep up on her, wishing to close her eyes to its sight and wake up to it as well, the gesture forever engraved in her mind. With both hands now free her fingers made quick work of the bow and ribbon, the rough material resting over your palms, and with shaky limbs, anticipation building quickly within her, she pushed the top off.

-Oh, Y/N! – wasn’t it a most melodious sound to hear her laugh? Those loud tones, unapologetic as they echoed in the night, sweet as happiness poured out of them in quick succession, her smile only growing bigger as sparks shone in her eyes. One thing was to hear her chuckle, maybe even be granted the honour of hearing a soft laugh pass her plump lips, and another far more magical and sublime was to hear that rumbling sound sliding with easy from her throat, being you and only you the cause and the benefactor of such a sound. There were no gold necklaces or platinum bracelets resting over expensive layers of velvets, no seas of diamonds or rubies that could adorn her collarbones or her fingers, not even a unique bottle of scotch waiting for her inside that box, and yet what was presented to her held a much deeper meaning and an aura of love and care that she appreciated far more than all the jewellery money could buy. Twenty small doughnuts were neatly placed on top of a pink sheet of parchment paper, white melted chocolate displayed on top of the spongy dough as red icing spelled “ Happy Valentine’s Joan”, purple, red, white and pink sprinkles decorating each pastry to perfection, the last doughnut of the batch being the only one shaped as a heart, covered in ruby chocolate and with what looked like some sort of jam spilling from its insides.

-I made them myself. The first batch burned because I didn’t hear the oven go off, but I think these ones turned out pretty good. I hope you like them.

-They are wonderful. And beautiful. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble for me you know?

-It’s no trouble, at all Joan. Anything that I make for you is never a chore or a task. I enjoy it, trust me. – she did, she could not find a single reason not to do so when your intentions shone as pure as snow, no hidden requests or lies masked as innocent compliments. There was no venom in your smile, no evil behind your beautiful eyes, only genuine care for her that made her all warm and fuzzy, a feeling she had forgotten about, a sensation she wondered for a moment if she had ever truly felt. You took one step towards her, the edge of the box barely an inch from her bosom, the chill breeze that had been lazily twirling around the both of you now picking up slightly, goosebumps and shivers making you shake on your spot. -Could I come in? It’s getting colder and I still have one more thing to give you.

-Another present? Greed is not a friend that one should engage with Y/N.

-It is not greed, I assure you. I did not buy it, and in truth it’s more of a necessity. – her narrowed a little but her smile never faltered, not for a minute, the lily in her hair matching the blush that painted her cheeks.

-Alright, come on in. – she took a few steps back until her heels clacked over the wooden floors of her entryway, watching as you made your way to her door carefully as not to crush any of the flowers under your feet. She would figure out tomorrow morning what to do with them all, for now, she liked to think they were simply guarding her home. You picked up quickly on the musty smell that floated in the air, clinging to the drawn curtains, darkness spreading through every room like a wildfire, a pang of sadness slamming you on the chest as you made your way to the dining room. The candles Joan had lit hours ago barely had any wax left, the flames dimming with each passing second, the lonely bottle of wine along with the half-drunk glass resting and glistening under the flickering light. You had no taste for such a drink, but it was obvious that the burgundy liquid was a common guest in Joan’s house, a hint of shame in her eyes as you looked at her over your shoulder. Carefully not to make the glass tumble and ruin both the table and the floor you left the box of doughnuts beside one of the silver candlesticks, white wax embedded in the crevasses of a swan engraved in the metal, checking that the pastries were all still intact before turning to face Joan, a bright smile on your face to overshine the downcast look that had taken her hostage.

-Wait here a moment. I’ll be right back.

Like the perfect summer breeze your perfume caressed her face as you walked past her, your hand brushing hers, fingers timidly kissing each other for an instant that ended too soon, leaving a tingling sensation on her skin that travelled like electricity up her arm to her elbow. Watching you walking back to the front door, your dress flowing around your knees, she stood in the poorly lit room, cursing herself for the way the house betrayed her and screamed silently about her state of mind, long curtains refusing to let the cold breeze of February in. Hoping you didn’t think less of her she rushed towards the closet window, pushing the heavy fabrics to the sides and unlatching the frames, pushing the glass upwards until the cold wind of the night burst in unannounced but not unwelcome. Shivers ran down her spine, but she pushed through, repeating the motion for the other two windows that were left, that stale stench she had mentally complained about not that long ago losing the fresh crisp air that was now filling the room. It wasn’t that she hadn’t cleaned the house in months, she still woke up every morning with a task to fill all those dead hours that lay ahead of her, but she had neglected certain aspects that would have clashed with her mood, the need to keep herself secluded, detained in her own home as much as she was by her mind, preventing her from enjoying the simple sight of the sunlight breaking through her front door, or basking in its warmth by the window with a hot cup of tea cradled in her hands. She had no right to such simple things after everything, she thought.

But now the room was bathed in perfect waves of silver and platinum, strings of pearly dust floating along to the sweet voices that still played on the radio, the wind that now rushed through the house kissing the flickering flames goodbye as one by one they vanished into rivulets of smoke. Standing in the doorway your eyes raked over Joan’s frame as moonlight rained over her, her deep eyes holding your gaze, sparkling under its silvery touch. Never before had a person been more beautiful than her, her blue dress like an ocean enfolding her curves, her hair shining under the glow of the pink petals that caressed her temple, the soft breeze that came from the windows kissing her skin and twirling around her like currents, transparent foam around her feet. It's you, it's you, it's all for you. Everything I do. I tell you all the time. Heaven is a place on earth with you. Words had never spoken bigger truths. All for Joan, so she would grant you entrance to the Heaven that clung to her skin, your lips begging to worship the ground she walked on, the air she breathed, the clothes she wore and hoping that one day you would be able to cross the threshold on her bedroom and lay beside her in that bed that claimed her holy body each night. With slow steps you made your way to the table once more and placed two paper bags gently over the wood, eyes never straying from her form, fighting not to blink should you miss a single thing about her.

She walked towards you, her gentle movements a sight for sore eyes, approaching you as if she hadn’t noticed the way your sight lingered on her and drank her in, and perhaps it had been so. Joan was unused to being the object of people’s affections, it would be no surprise if she had mistaken your actions for nothing more than admiration, but inside the woman’s chest, her heart slammed against her ribs with each beat, a million butterflies fluttering inside her, thanking the darkness of the room that had kept her blush at bay from your beautiful eyes. Without a word each of you worked on a bag, a comfortable silence accompanying your actions as the song carried on softly in the background, a few containers with food lay on the table after a few minutes, the delicious aroma of well-cooked and homemade dishes reaching Joan’s nose, making her mouth water as she turned to look at you, surprise and a hint of gratitude painted on her face. It had been far too long since she had had something that hadn’t been a premade meal, her constant internal battle and continuous self-sabotage leaving her drained and unable to do one of the things she loved the most. Lifting one of the lids, the smell of rosemary filled the room, her eyes as wide as saucers as slices of a rotisserie chicken stood out from under what she was sure was a delicious sauce.

-You made and brought me dinner? That’s the surprise you had for me?

-I know it’s not as grand or greedy as a night in town or a diamond necklace, but I thought this would be much better for you. I’ve made enough so that you’ll be able to eat for at least a week.

-Y/N… I… You don’t know how much this means to me. You really are a blessing. – her hands rested tenderly on your cheeks, her smile as big as the entire universe and so bright that she could light the whole house, but her palms didn’t remain on your skin for too long, and you didn’t stop her when they left a cold spot over your flesh. It was obvious things would have to be done at her pace.

-I’m happy you like it. Why don’t you bring some plates while I open the rest?

Her steps were quick as she made a beeline for the kitchen, leaving you in charge of everything else. A most exquisite sea of aromas overwhelmed the crisp air of the dining room, salty condiments along with tomato and herbs dancing in perfect unison as you placed the main dish of the night, baked parmesan chicken on a bed of angel hair pasta with green beans and roasted potatoes as sides, beside the glass of red wine. You truly hoped to steer her away from the burgundy drink before dinner started, but at the same time you didn’t wish to make her feel self-conscious about it, as if she was doing something wrong when she was a grown woman who could make her own decisions. But there was no time to indulge in that train of thought as she came back with two plates and cutlery in one hand while she juggled two glasses and a pitch of water in the other. Of course, you rushed to her aid and were thanked with the sight of that tender smile she seemed to have reserved just for you.

-You really have outdone yourself.

-Thank you. I had the kitchen all to myself today, so I was able to prepare everything with all the care in the world. Where do you keep your candles?

-It’s okay, I’ll get them. – the radio rested on top of a set of drawers, Joan heading its way and pulling the first one open before returning to the table, two long white candles in her hand that she exchanged for the old ones. Just as she was about to head back to the kitchen, to get matches, you thought, your hand shot out to grab her wrist, the sudden touch making her whip her head towards you, a wary veil of confusion covering her features.

-Let me. – without letting her go, the grasp on her skin never too strong, allowing her to pry her hand away should she wish to, the fingers of your right hand touched each wick, observing happily how in less than an instant the warm light of a flame bathed the room, colliding with the cool tones that they moon cast inside the house, orange and silver fighting as they reflected on Joan’s pink cheeks. Her big eyes shone under the orange light, like melted chocolate that called out to you, her gaze glued to the candles as the flames flickered steadily, amazement hiding behind her perfect irises. You could not say that you were not proud to have rendered her speechless once again. She was no stranger to what people called magic, but the way you used it, you seemed to have a relationship, some sort of understanding of your own abilities that she had never seen before, didn’t make her feel fear anymore. She felt curious about what else you were capable of, but was too worried about you taking offense that she didn’t ask and simply basked in the beauty of such a domestic task. – Now we can eat. Are you okay Joan?

-What? Oh, yes, perfectly alright. Before we have what clearly looks like a delicious meal I was wondering if we could have one of those doughnuts you brought.

-Of course. Which letter do you fancy?

-I was thinking we could share the heart. One half for you and the other for me, if you are agreeable.

-Absolutely.

The cardboard made a scratching sound as you lifted the top, and with careful fingers you pried it from the parchment paper and placed it on one of the plates she had brought, the knife slicing through the middle as if it were butter, stains of pink chocolate and red jam over the metal. Joan took her half of the pastry, muttering a thank you, and slowly took a bite savouring the fluffiness of the dough and the sweetness of the chocolate, the flavour removing the bitter aftertaste the wine had left on her tongue. But the calm moment didn’t last for too long, the acidity of the jam hitting her as if she had just been run over by a car, not because it was too strong or bad, but because it was raspberry jam. She could recall as if she had done it that same morning, going down to the market with little Luke grasping her hand, holding onto her and looking up at her with his big adoring eyes, asking her if he could have some ice cream, the wicker basket she had in her other hand heavy with all the food she had bought. Every Saturday morning would be the same. She would get up and get ready for the day before heading to her son’s room, opening his teddy bear curtains so the sun could come through the window, drool falling from his mouth onto the pillow as he slept, one of his front teeth missing.

Getting him up and ready was her first task of the day, his groggy form sagging against her chest and shoulder as she picked him up and took him to the kitchen, a bowl of cereal waiting for him as she made herself a cup of coffee. She could hear his rumbling as the radio played, talking a thousand miles a minute about whatever he had done in school the previous day, mentioning his friends and teachers and speaking of how elephants were big and grey and hamster so small, cupping his tiny hands as to make his point clearer to his mom. Those morning watching him be so utterly excited about the most mundane of things lingered in her mind, memories that she had revisited so many times as her boy grew, feeling as if she was losing him, as if those moments had vanished into nothing. She would have done anything to go back to all that, to stumbling up the stairs to help him dress as she told him gently that he needed to pick up his toys, brushing his unruly hair before walking out the door with her basket, Luke trailing behind her sometimes with his fish plushie and sometimes not, her attention having to drift from the pavement to her boy and his friend Nemo. They would walk between each stall and Joan would tenderly answer and explain everything that her beautiful boy asked, not caring how many hours they spent out in the streets as long as Luke remained by her side, the warm sun rising higher and higher in the sky.

The feeling of his little fingers, soft and smooth against her palm, lingered on her skin still, as if she could look down and see him standing there with scraped knees, begging her to kiss his pain away, cheeks pink and fat tears falling from his eyes, after taking a tumble with a rock. She could almost feel him pulling on her arm as his eyes landed on his favourite stall, pounds and pounds of raspberries waiting for him, the boxes a few inches above his head. His excitement was always contagious, his toothy smile matching the one on her lips as they made their way towards the grocer. The first time he had seen them his eyes had been wide as saucers, pointing at the red fruits, amazed at the quantity and hadn’t stopped asking to have one until finally Joan had given in and bought a pound of them, knowing that even if Luke didn’t like them, she could still use them and eat them herself. He had fallen in love almost instantly and when they got home the bag had barely lasted more than a few days, so the next Saturday she had purchased more had told her boy that they would make jam with some of them as a treat for how well he was doing in school. He had been so excited that that night he had woken her up almost every hour to ask her if it was time, his thrilled tone preventing her from scolding him, strands of his hair sticking in different directions and his body dressed in a pair of yellow pyjamas with a big giraffe on his t-shirt.

A onetime thing soon became a habit, a special moment they shared every Saturday once they were done at the market, his steps jolly and bouncy as they walked down the street, Luke pointing at every single thing his curious eyes could see as if Joan wasn’t to used to them already, and she indulged him, because he was her little boy, her everything. And now she only had those, the bittersweet memories of a happy life that had turned into dust all because of her own selfish wants and needs, because she could not heal from a broken heart and let her grief and sorrow lead her in life. She had been so sure she was doing the right thing for Luke, following the scriptures her priest had provided her with, telling her that the only way Luke would grow to be the man she wanted him to be was by making sure temptation never entered her house, keeping him secluded with her and following the Lord’s teachings without question. She had not doubted that man’s words, too distraught to even consider that that was not the way, that God was love, not fear, that he was everyone’s father and loved each of his children without expecting anything in return. And yet she had followed him blindly, losing herself in the process and ruining her boy with each day that she punished him for not doing what she had been taught was right.

She had tried so hard to keep him safe, paranoid that temptation hid in every corner that she had forgotten who God was and what his son had preached, stealing Luke away from Nan as if she was the Devil herself all because she had a gift no one else she had ever met had. She had driven her son away, lost that little boy who used to fall asleep in her arms as she sang lullabies and with whom she used to make raspberry jam. The pain that crawled under her skin was beyond anything she had ever felt, as if millions of daggers were stabbing her, blood pouring out of each wound as tears fell down her cheeks, fire burning her flesh, guilt and disgust poisoning and rotting her blood in her veins. She had killed her boy, her reason for being alive, her very soul, because to her there had been no other truth but that of the “Good book”, her narrowminded thoughts having turned her into the biggest hypocrite and selfish woman she had ever known, refusing to believe her actions had been wrong until now. Her baby was gone because she hadn’t wanted him to be with someone like Nan, a girl she had called a servant of Satan, an abomination that walked the Earth, and who had taken her life now that Luke was no longer there with her. She wished to rip her skin off, to escape this agony that crushed her under its inevitable weight, but there was no way out.

How wrong she had been, her own mind betraying everything she had ever loved and cherished and turning her into a monster. How could you be there with her, speaking of love and bringing her gifts when she had killed her son? Her Luke. The name escaped from her lips as realization fell harshly over her, the fact that she was here with you, a woman, her feelings betraying everything she had ever known and been told about love, a most needed but agonising wake-up call. She had put her son through Hell in the name of a God that had forsaken her, that had abandoned her and left her in the dark when she had needed him the most, bringing forth a side of her that had not hesitated to claim her own son’s life so that the secret of her husband’s death would never be brought to light and to ensure that her perfect boy’s soul remained pure, untainted by the girl he had fallen for. How could pain be so raw, so overwhelming and vast that it caused one to want to rip their own heart from their chest? She had carried him, birthed him and held him to her as she told him that love would find him when the time was right, only to refuse him the gift of a happy life with her own bare hands. There wasn’t enough air in the entire planet for her to breathe, her throat refusing to swallow not even an ounce of oxygen, her lungs begging for it as sobs rocked her body.

A thousand emotions had rushed through her eyes the instant she had taken that first and only bite. One moment there had been the sweetest of the smiles gracing her lips and the next tears had begun to pour as her gaze became lost in a world of her own, the atmosphere clinging onto the regret and sorrow that seeped from her body. And then her son’s name had fallen from her lips and the last piece of the puzzle was finally in its rightful place. You had stood as fast as your body had allowed you and wrapped your arms around her trembling frame, the pastry forgotten on the ground by her feet. These tears were different from the ones she had shed a few moments before, they were harsh and sharp as daggers and they were accompanied by the grieving sound of a mother who no longer had a child, a mother who would never get to see her baby become an adult and have a life of his own.

-It’s alright, I’m here. I’m here.

-I… did it… Y/N… - her voice was muffled by her head hiding on your chest, hands gripping the neckline of your dress in despair.

-I know, Jo, I know.

-I didn’t… I didn’t want to… He was my baby! My only baby… - had the Devil taken reign of her senses and clouded her mind with false verses? She would have never laid a single finger on her little boy, not even to discipline him and yet she had caused him harm far too many times to count. She could not escape this pain, this feeling that she had no right to feel anything but grief, to let it consume her. Undeserving of your love and your kind words. Underserving of having you in her life, your mere existence bringing forth a happiness that she had denied to her own flesh and blood.

-I know, my darling. Let it out. There is nothing you could do that would make me leave you, so grieve. You have lost your son, there is no greater pain than that.

You had never heard a sound so frightening and yet so heartbreaking slip out of someone’s throat like the scream that was ripped from Joan’s chest. It came from so deep within her that it made her entire body shake and tremble, rattling her very soul, the sound vibrating through your skin like a thousand needles. It was blood curling and hellish in execution, so full of anger, regret, and pain that it mixed into the most agonizing sound a human could ever produce and yet should never hear. Nothing could have prepared her for the sheer emptiness that coursed through her veins, for the way she wanted to claw at her own skin to make it all stop hurting, begging in between sobs to turn back time, to return to how things had been once upon a time, when it had been her and Luke against the world. Before her mind had been poisoned by false words and her entire life had lost its meaning. She could have carried on screaming for all eternity, blood filling her lungs as she choked on her own remorse, but she was too broken to even hold the sound for too long, and after a few moments it blended back into sobs. It had been four months since she had lost the most precious thing in her little universe and it was only now that she was feeling all that anguish for the first time, all the grief slamming onto her at full force, knocking her off her feet and making her tumble and crumple to the floor. There would be no more helping him with his math work, no more cuddling him to sleep when he was sick, no more Saturdays at the market. No more raspberry jams.

Her tired body melted slowly in your arms with each passing second, her tears pooling in the neckline of your dress leaving a cold spot on the skin underneath that the breeze was not gentle with, shivers running down your arms as it sliced through your flesh. You could not imagine what thoughts swirled in her head, what memories were haunting her as her boy’s name fell from her lips over and over, as if that simple action could bring him back, but the house remained quiet, cold, and empty, even the light of the candles seeming to have lost all its warmth as the flames flickered gently. The only sounds echoing against the bare walls, empty frames hanging over the floral wallpaper, were Joan’s sobs, or at least the only sounds you were paying attention to, rubbing comforting circles on her back as your other hand caressed her soft hair, for the radio carried on playing. I wish that Heaven had visiting hours, and I would ask them if I could take you home. The words floated around Joan’s head, begging her to listen, making a lump form in her throat as her heart bled inside her chest, the crimson liquid puddled on the floor under the shard of her completely shattered life. But a glimpse of light shone amongst all the darkness, your voice hushed and tender as you spoke the last verse of the song against her temple, the lily slightly crumpled but nevertheless beautiful.

-And I will close the door, but I will open up my heart. And everyone I love will know exactly who you are. Cause this is not goodbye; it is just 'til we meet again. So much has changed since you've been away. - An entire lifetime had happened since she had lost him, and not once, not even for an instant, had her boy left her thoughts. She almost expected still to see him walking down the hall or stealing a bite before dinner, to find him in his room playing that horrible music she despised so much as he did his homework, but he wasn’t even a ghost haunting her. She would have given her soul, as blasphemous as she knew that was, for one more day with him, to explain, to look at his face and engrave the colour of his eyes in her mind for all eternity. With tears still streaming down her face she lifted her head to gaze upon yours, a question on the tip of her tongue that she couldn’t bring herself to say. Would he forgive her if she could talk to him one last time?

-Y/N…

-What? Talk to me, Joan.

-Luke… I… Would he… - why was it so hard? Why did those words seem to weigh like a thousand rocks? Her grip was even stronger now, her eyes pleading for you to understand, to look deep inside her and pry the question from the very essence of her being so she would not crumble at your feet once again. Your voice did not hesitate to respond.

-He would. He would listen to your every word, and at first, he would be mad, furious even, but it wouldn’t be for the reasons you think. He would be angry because you were so deeply hurt, so broken, that your pain made you ask for help from people you trusted only for them to deceive you. He would not diminish your doings, and he would be upset at the extent of your own actions, but with time he would have understood that you only did it because you thought it was the right way. You are his mother and always will be, and you have repented for what you did.

-But what I did was evil, something so brutal that I fear has no possible salvation. I killed my own son, Y/N.

- “For you became sorrowful as God intended and so were not harmed in any way by us. Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret”. You have walked this path alone Joan, you have grieved and cried in remorse for what you have done, and He, who cares for us all has seen it and has forgiven you. Luke would do the same, because you are his mother and he would not want to see you like this, broken and battered by your own hand.

-But I deserve it. I am no better than all those people who drove me to this point and then abandoned me.

-You are Joan, you are the most wonderful person I have ever met, and one that needs to heal from all the horrible things that have happened to you. You are free from them, from the chains that held you down with false hopes and lies dressed in empty promises, and it is that, and only that, that would make Luke forgive you. You are deserving of love, and you must not think that your little boy would not be thrilled to have the mother he so loved back in his arms. “Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy”.

Your words, coupled with the tender, caring tone you used soothed her pain like nothing had ever before, and for the first time in years, she felt as if she could breathe, as if the air filling her lungs wasn’t rotten anymore. She would be forgiven. Her precious baby boy wouldn’t look at her like she was the worst human in history, pointing accusingly at her while telling her that it was all her fault, that she had brought this agony onto herself. There was hope for her to find happiness once again, to let the gentle rays of sunlight burst through her windows and for her to not run away as if her skin would blister at the feeling, the warm light bathing her house, the silence that had settle so deeply in each beam and wall fading as the sound of birds chirping and voices coming from the street filled each room. Her eyes glistened under the flames, orange and yellow tinges caressing her perfect chocolate irises, so full of hope and dreams she had not even dared to think about before, tears no longer falling but leaving wet paths over her cheeks. With a tender touch your thumbs wiped them away, and with that motion, your fingers ripped the weight that had been crushing her from her flesh, guilt and shame fading into acceptance and understanding as her penitence ended. She had taken accountability for her actions and in return she had been granted a second chance. She had been gifted with your presence and your love.

This time she didn’t let go of you, not caring if your face was only inches from hers, if she could breathe your sweet perfume, a blend of berries and vanilla, deep within her, its soft tendrils enfolding her essence the same way your hands were cradling her face. It would have been so easy to kiss her, to brush your lips against hers, but if you were going to do this, if you were going to walk this path with her, hand in hand, you could wait until she was sure, until her body spoke to you and asked in a silent plea for your touch. The radio was silent for a moment, only the sound of Joan’s sniffles filling up the room, her warmth seeping under your skin, and in an instant her hands released your dress, disappointment crossing your eyes, only to be delighted and surprised as she place her palms over the back of your hands, her heat wrapping around you like a blanket, shielding you from the cold that was breaking through the windows. At that moment in time, there was nothing but Joan and the blossoming lily in her hair, no past, no future, just her. Joan, wrap me up in all your, I want you in my arms.

Her hands were in yours, and with a gentleness she could not get used to you lifted her from her seat, pulling her body away from the table and into an empty spot where the carpet covered the wooden floors. Coming to stand next to the windows she let you do whatever you wanted, take her to the ends of the world if you so desired, because under the silvery beams that swayed in the night, she knew she would give you everything you asked from her as long as you never stopped looking at her as if she was the most precious thing in the world. Your hands guided hers to your shoulders, her fingers feeling the cotton of your dress around your neck, strands of your soft hair teasing her knuckles as your arms snaked around her waist, the gap between you vanishing as each of your bubbles became one, you in her personal space and Joan in yours, no fear or reservations clouding her mind. Oh, let me hold you. I'll never let you go again like I did. Never would you leave her, never would she have to face the world on her own, never would you let her go as long as your body drew breath, and your soul belonged to her. Slowly your feet began to sway from side to side, Joan’s frame molded to yours and following suit, her gaze never straying from your enchanting eyes.

Dancing lazily with her made your little heart leap with joy, a petal suddenly falling all the way from the tall ceiling, oscillating gently as its pristine white colour shone under the moonlight, blending into the same shade of pink Joan’s lily wore as it touched the ground. Then another fell as you pulled her closer, her chest against yours, her fingers twirling your hair in between them as the palms of your hands held onto her waist, a soft touch of sandalwood reaching your nostrils as her hair brushed against your check, her head coming to rest on your right shoulder. Her chin dug gently onto your flesh over the cotton of your white dress, her eyes watching in amazement at the way the room filled with the floral aroma of roses, petal after petal filling the room, a most perfect sight to match a most perfect you. A couple of flower leaves soon turned into a gentle shower of them, dozens swaying in the chilly breeze as the two of you danced, the top of her head resting against your cheek, the moonbeams never faltering in its glow, the flickering flames never ceasing to shower the room with their warmth as a sea of petals laid at your feet. In your arms Joan came to one last conclusion: God had never forsaken her, he had seen her lost in the dark and had sent you to her, to guide her and love her the way she had never been before, to return her to the right path with you by her side, her son’s forgiveness her banner and your love her shield. From now and for all eternity. I would never fall in love again until I found her. I said, "I would never fall unless it's you I fall into".

#lilia calderu #lilia x reader #patti lupone #avis amberg #avis amberg x reader #patti lupone x reader #joan ramsey #joan ramsey x reader #AHS #we thank miss lupone simply for existing

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jadastarkey · 2 days ago

Text

I could be

celebritycrush!drew x sweetheart!actress!reader

warnings: flirting? idk if that's a warning tho

genre: fluff

sypnosis: an interviewer let's actress!reader choose someone to be interviewed with her and she chooses drew, who happens to be her celebrity crush

~°•☆•°~

"y/n over here!" an interviewer called, holding out a microphone for you.

you smiled and walked over grabbing the mic.

"Hey, how are you today?"

"oh my god, hi, I'm so great, thank you. how're you?"

"I'm alright, thanks for asking. if you dont mind, we're gonna do things a little differently today," the interviewer said as you nodded "we want you to choose anyone on the carpet right now to be interviewed with you"

"really?" you asked, looking over your shoulder

"yeah, choose anyone" she replied with a chuckle.

you smirked and put your finger up to your lip, your eyes hunting for the man they'd been set on all night, the man you could recognise from a mile away, the man whose movies you'd binged most nights when you were bored and it didn't take long at all to find that familiar face.

you passed the microphone back to the interviewer and walked over to him, your footsteps small as your dress was tight.

your courage slowly dropped. there were people already talking to him, the cameras were flashing, more than likely to catch any embarrassment and post it everywhere and suddenly any courage you once held was gone.

you took a deep breath and tapped on his shoulder. "uh, drew?" you asked politely like a child telling her mom she dropped the ice cream she just got from the ice cream man.

there was barely any time to run away and die as he turned around the second your fingers touched his shoulder "hey.. you're y/n y/l/n? I didn't know you were here"

you let out a nervous giggle "y-yeah, I am."

he grinned

"I was just at an interview and she said I could choose someone to be interviewed with me and I was wondering if you'd wanna do it with me?" you asked, hope glimmering in your eyes

"yeah of course I will" he answered almost too quick but a yes is a yes and you let out a sigh of relief

"Okay, uh follow me, I guess"

you led him back to the interviewer and tool your mic back. you put it between the two of you, as you thought you were sharing one but you didn't see the interviewer holding another one out for you. drew thought you were handing it to him and wrapped his hand around it, his fingers brushing yours.

you were yet again embarrassing yourself infront of the drew starkey, the man who gave you a reason to start acting.

you let him take it and awkwardly took the other one.

"quite the partner, y/n. drew, how's your night going"

"It's going... okay. I'm just a little nervous. im sure I'll be fine, though. "

"let's hope so." she said before looking down at a list of questions in her hand "y/n, drew, your movies are going up against eachother, and you yourselves are nominated in the same categories multiple times. do you think either of your wins or losses could affect a future friendship?"

"no, It's a competition and not everyone can win. there's 7 people that'll lose and that's okay. we just have to support whoever does win" drew answered

"yeah, there's a possibility neither of us will win and its okay" you said, looking up at him again.

"that's good. we don't need anymore drama in this world. y/n, a lot of your fans have noticed you've been a little happier recently. is there anyone behind that, maybe a special someone?"

yu giggled, biting down on your bottom lip slightly "Well, no but I'm open to it" you smiled, taking a small glance toward drew to meet his eyes for a second. you quickly turned away and tried to hide the pink dusting your cheeks.

the interviewer saw the tension and used it to her advantage "do you think drew could be that special someone?"

the air got caught in your throat, not expecting such a blunt question but before you could answer or even regain some confidence drew chimed in with a smooth "I could be"

the interviewers eyebrows raised and drew continued "how about if I win, I can get your number and take you out on a date somewhere?"

your mouth opened but no words came out. you just nodded.

"but what if she wins?" She asked

"we'll have to see" he replied before waving goodbye to the camera and skimming his hand over your waist to get past you and back onto the carpet.

your eyes followed him hut you were frozen in place out of shock for a while.

when you'd come to your senses, you thanked the interviewer for her time and continued on your night, though the interaction never left your mind

~°•☆•°~

a/n sorry if this is bad I'm still getting used to writing

I might make a pt 2 to this

#drew starkey #actress #drew starkey x reader #actor #celebrity interviews #couple #sweetheart reader #sweetheart #drew starkey fanfiction #fanfic #red carpet #famous actress #famous au

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antianakin · 1 day ago

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Yeah, I think I was focusing more on the worldbuilding aspect of it in this post than the narrative/emotional/character development aspect of it, but I feel like it got discussed in other reblogs back when I first posted this.

I think that that's likely an intended reading, that Anakin WANTED her lightsabers to match his (and Obi-Wan's) in a way that would be immediately obvious. They're meant to represent their relationship and the connection between the two of them, and THAT'S why I think she got rid of them at the end. Practically, she leaves them behind in order to make it look like she died on the moon (although the very obvious grave sites for all the clones is a pretty massive indicator that SOMEONE survived), but symbolically I think it's meant to show that she has to leave that part of herself behind, the optional future represented in those lightsabers. Anankin wants her to come back to the Jedi, wants her to come back to HIM, and that's what the lightsabers are. She says it out loud later to Yoda, that she's not ready YET to come back, but her acceptance of the lightsabers from Anakin tells him something similar nonverbally, too. But after Order 66, that option is gone. So by leaving behind the saber, she is leaving behind the option to be a Jedi again, too.

Setting the worldbuilding aside for a second, it's still pushy. Because Anakin is sending her a very specific message by giving them to her, he's trying to convince her down a specific path, forcing her to either reject the very useful weapons or accept them and everything they represent along with them.

But bringing the worldbuilding back in, it can easily go from pushy to INVASIVE and offensive. In The Gathering, we see those kids have to go through REALLY personal trials in order to acquire that crystal. We see something similar happen with Ezra in Rebels and Cal in Jedi: Fallen Order, as well. Acquiring a crystal is intensely personal to the Jedi. They can obviously pick up other lightsabers and use them just fine, we see Anakin and Obi-Wan do this in AOTC and we see Obi-Wan do it in TCW. So it's not IMPOSSIBLE that there are spare kyber crystals lying around the Jedi temple that Anakin was able to go grab and utilize for his own purposes. But it means removing the crystals that Ahsoka had PERSONALLY EARNED for herself and replacing them with random ones just to make them look like his, without ever consulting her about it. What did he do with the original green/yellow crystals? Are they now down in the Jedi storage, or did he keep them? He doesn't offer them to her at all, just in case she doesn't like what he's done. She has NO OPTION but to accept them as is and accept the loss of the original crystals. And that feels kind-of invasive and offensive to me. Yes, Ahsoka left the lightsabers behind, with the crystals in them, but still. Why would Ahsoka PREFER to have new random crystals from storage instead of the ones she'd earned herself?

Having spare parts, including crystals, in case Jedi need them on a short term basis and can't get to Ilum, is one thing. But replacing someone else's crystals in their lightsabers with random ones just to make them suit someone else's aesthetic purposes and send a deliberate message feels... So Wrong. In so many ways.

Like I mentioned in my original post, you could've gotten a VERY similar emotional gesture by just having him give her back her ORIGINAL lightsabers. It implies that he just carries them around with him everywhere, either as a reminder of her, or in the hopes that he might bump into her and be able to return them, or both. Maybe he can tell her that he's been continuing to maintain it and keep it clean and in good working order. And it keeps the same symbolism of wanting Ahsoka to return to the Jedi and to him, it's a symbol of their prior relationship, a life Ahsoka had chosen to give up but could still return to if she chose to, and then ultimately has to COMPLETELY leave behind later. It would've done all the same things but without the weird creepy aspect of how Anakin changed the color, and honestly I think it just works better.

Anakin changing the color of Ahsoka's lightsabers is such a weird writing choice to make because it honestly makes zero sense with everything we've been shown or told up until then about how lightsabers work.

In the Gathering arc, we see all of the kids pick up what appear to be pretty similarly colored white crystals, but they don't all end up with the same color lightsaber. We hear them discuss the importance of choosing the design of the hilt to suit them, but never once hear them discuss any importance to choosing the COLOR of the saber. There's never any indication that the Jedi can choose the color of their saber, it's effectively chosen for them when they're led to a crystal to begin with.

The only other times we know someone can change the color of a crystal is bleeding and purifying which requires a lot of effort and appears to result only in red or white blades.

So for Anakin to have changed the color of Ahsoka's sabers from green/yellow to blue, either we need to completely discount that worldbuilding and assume that the hilt provides the color somehow and can be engineered differently, or Anakin somehow found two new crystals that he was able to confirm were blue and replaced her crystals with the new ones.

The option was there to just have Anakin have adjusted the design of hilt if they wanted to have Anakin do something to her lightsabers that was invasively sweet in a typically Anakin sort of way, to make them match his and Obi-Wan's more or something. Or if they wanted it to be genuinely sweet, he could've just given her back the sabers normally. And instead, they just... threw out everything we ever knew about the lightsabers just to give Ahsoka sabers that they were going to have her throw away in 3 episodes anyway and never get back. I don't really see the point of it when the lightsabers have no emotional impact upon anything.

#ahsoka #anakin #lightsabers

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clairewritesfanfics · 1 day ago

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But you weren't her.

Pairing: (LADS x Non-MC!Reader)

"I love you."

When he said those sweet words that were reserved for the Main Character, you pretended not to hear.

Of course you knew that he meant them, even if only a bit. You weren’t confident in your ability to attract others but you were too old to be naive. It was only natural that a lonely man would fall for the first person to give him a shred of warmth, especially since you spent so much time together. You have no doubt that his feelings were true, but for how long? From the other side of the fourth wall, it was easy to be certain about everything, that his love will withstand every storm for the great heroine. But what of you? In your world, no one can say with absolute certainty that romantic love was so pure and kind and strong. Men and women across various periods swore oaths, sang songs and wrote poetry of it since time immemorial, but did anyone actually find love everlasting? Maybe. But it was a concept too out of reach for you.

One would have a higher chance meeting a mythological creature than finding true love.

People back in the “real world” playfully called you bitter and resentful, without a drop of romance in your body, but they had it backwards: it was because you were a hopeless romantic that you doubted every piece of tenderness you received. Healthy, boring, so-called ideal relationships would never be enough. You didn’t want cheap affection, you yearned for the raw, all-consuming, time-withstanding love worthy of immortalization, not unlike the one the main character has with her love interests.

So even if this world was a living breathing reality on its own without a predestined ending, you were still just an NPC. Yes, a supporting character. Nothing more. If you allow yourself to dream any more than that, you’ll get greedy and when his real beloved comes along, or if he finds out the ugly parts of you, you will be left with nothing but a broken heart.

He called your name and you couldn't ignore him anymore.

Forcing yourself the brightest, gentlest smile possible, you turned to face him. “You shouldn't carelessly throw those words around, otherwise misunderstandings will happen.”

Before he could reply, you looked away again so he couldn't see your lips trembling. "Don’t worry, you’ll meet someone better than you could ever hope for."

That's right, someone literally tailored to his taste and who complements him in every way. Someone who wasn't you.

A/N: It involves a non-MC reader so I hope you enjoy it! I'll be exploring the concept in the future, especially with Sylus because I don't know how to do it with the others yet lol. I wasn't supposed to post this but I just needed to share it with the world.

Edit: had to change a few things to avoid confusion.

@phisen @leryg0 @capribun @sinnamon-bunn @wegottastayfocus @erisnxxi

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saebyeokbliss · 3 days ago

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ALL I REALLY WANT IS YOU

chapter one

"what are you willing to do?" "anything if it's for you."

synopsis: you never wanted to be part of this world—this business built on desperation, where people come seeking hope and leave with nothing but empty promises. but working under mr. lim means you don’t get a choice. your job is simple: take calls, organize paperwork, and never get involved. but when two sisters walk into the office, carrying the weight of the past and the fight for their family on their shoulders, something shifts. you weren’t supposed to care. you weren’t supposed to listen. now, you’re starting to wonder if staying out of it is something you can really do. pairing: kang sae-byeok x fem!reader x kang no-eul warnings: violence, abuse, exploitation, trauma, kidnapping, human trafficking, emotional manipulation, poverty, gambling, debt, crime, corruption, mentions of illness, blood, injury, psychological distress, mild language, substance abuse, family separation, mentions of war, betrayal, moral dilemmas, unethical business practices

a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this series!! and thank you for all the love on JMMATA!!

Lim Do-yun never asked for much—not in words, at least. His demands were implied, expectations set in stone long before you ever had the chance to question them. It was the same every morning: wake up before the sun, get dressed in something professional but not too eye-catching, and take the earliest bus to his office in downtown Seoul. The walls of that cramped, dimly lit space weren’t just where you worked—they were where you existed. Where you endured.

The air always smelled of ink and stale coffee, the scent clinging to the stacks of paperwork cluttering the desk you sat behind. It wasn’t a glamorous job. You weren’t even sure it counted as a real job, considering the only reason you were here was because Do-yun hadn’t given you much of a choice.

"It’s experience," he had said when you first started, sliding a pile of documents toward you without so much as glancing up. "You’re studying business, aren’t you? Think of this as practice."

Practice. Right. Because working as an assistant for a man who made his living exploiting desperate people was exactly the kind of future you had in mind.

But you didn’t argue. You never did.

Instead, you sat at that desk every day, answering calls, organizing files, making sure his schedule was in order. You watched as people came and went, their faces etched with worry, desperation, sometimes even anger. You knew better than to get involved. You were just the assistant—just the girl sitting behind the desk, pretending not to hear the whispered negotiations, the thinly veiled threats.

And when your shift ended, you packed up your things and left, heading straight to Seoul National University like none of it had ever happened.

You had worked too hard to get into SNU to let this job consume you. You told yourself that every time you sat in a lecture hall, surrounded by students who had never known what it was like to struggle, who had never been forced to live two lives at once. They talked about investments and startups, about ambitions that stretched sky-high. You listened, nodding along, pretending that your own aspirations hadn’t already been decided for you.

You were studying business—more specifically, finance. Numbers made sense. They weren’t unpredictable like people, didn’t come with hidden motives or unspoken debts. If you could just hold out a little longer, get through school and graduate, you could find a way out. A way to leave Do-yun and his world behind.

But for now, you were here.

And here, in this world of hushed conversations and unspoken rules, you had no choice but to play along.

"Cheol!"

The moment Kang Sae-byeok stepped into the visiting room, her little brother looked up from where he sat at a small table, his eyes lighting up with a mixture of happiness and relief. He scrambled out of his chair, nearly knocking it over in his rush to get to her. No-eul, standing just behind Sae-byeok, barely had time to brace herself before he barreled into both of them, his thin arms wrapping tightly around their waists.

"You came," he mumbled into Sae-byeok’s coat, his voice muffled.

"Of course, we did," Sae-byeok said, running a hand through his dark hair. "What, did you think we'd forget about you?"

Cheol shook his head, but he didn’t let go. No-eul crouched down slightly, placing a hand on his back. "You okay, buddy?"

There was a pause. Then, slowly, Cheol pulled away, looking down at the floor. His small hands clenched at the hem of his sweater.

"Some kids were saying stuff," he muttered. "That I’ll never leave here. That I’m gonna be stuck in this place forever."

Sae-byeok’s stomach tightened.

"Who said that?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

"It doesn’t matter," Cheol mumbled, kicking at the scuffed tile floor. "They’re probably right anyway."

No-eul sighed, reaching out to cup his cheek. "Hey. Look at me."

Cheol hesitated before lifting his gaze to meet hers. His eyes—so much like their father’s, so much like Sae-byeok’s—were filled with something that made No-eul’s chest ache.

"You’re not going to stay here forever," she said firmly. "We’re going to get you out. We just need a little more time."

Cheol’s lip trembled. "You always say that."

"Because it’s true," Sae-byeok said, crouching down beside No-eul. "We’re doing everything we can. We’re gonna get you out of here, and we’re gonna bring Mom back, too."

Cheol blinked up at them. "You promise?"

Sae-byeok hesitated, knowing better than to make empty promises. But this wasn’t empty. She meant it with everything in her.

"I promise," she said.

No-eul nodded. "Me too."

Cheol sniffled, but a small, hopeful smile tugged at his lips. He launched himself into their arms again, and they held him tightly, neither of them willing to let go first.

But eventually, visiting hours would end, and reality would pull them back.

They stayed with Cheol a little longer, talking about things that didn’t make their hearts feel heavy—his schoolwork, the books he’d been reading, the new caretaker who always snuck him extra snacks. They laughed when he did impressions of the other kids, rolling their eyes when he exaggerated his stories just to make them laugh harder.

But when a staff member stepped in to remind them their time was almost up, that weight settled back onto their shoulders.

Sae-byeok ruffled Cheol’s hair one last time before standing up. "We’ll be back soon, okay?"

Cheol nodded, his smile a little steadier this time. "Okay."

No-eul squeezed his shoulder. "Be good."

"I’m always good."

Sae-byeok snorted. "Sure you are."

With one last reluctant glance, they turned and walked out, leaving behind the little boy they had sworn to protect.

As soon as they stepped outside, the cold air bit at their skin, but neither of them paid it any mind.

"You ready?" Sae-byeok asked, her breath visible in the winter air.

No-eul tightened her coat around herself and nodded. "Let’s go see what this stupid guy has to say."

And with that, they made their way toward the broker’s office, carrying the weight of a promise they refused to break.

The office was just as suffocating as ever. Dim lighting, cluttered desks, and the ever-present scent of burnt coffee mixed with stale paperwork. It wasn’t the kind of place that welcomed people—it swallowed them whole, chewed them up, and spit them back out either more desperate or more defeated than when they walked in.

You had seen it happen a hundred times before.

You sat behind your desk, sifting through a pile of documents, your fingers moving on autopilot as the door creaked open. Two women stepped inside, their presence commanding attention even before they spoke.

The first was sharp-eyed and guarded, her stance rigid with distrust. She wore her exhaustion like a second skin, but there was a fire in her gaze—a stubbornness that said she had been fighting for too long to give up now.

The second was quieter in her strength, but no less formidable. There was something heavy in her eyes, something you couldn’t quite place. She carried herself like someone who had lost too much but refused to let it break her.

They didn’t look around the office, didn’t take in the fading wallpaper or the piles of discarded folders stacked against the walls. They were here for one reason, and they weren’t interested in anything else.

"Mr. Lim is expecting us," the sharp-eyed one said, her voice sharp and to the point.

You nodded, setting aside the documents in your hand. "Names?"

"Kang Sae-byeok," the first woman said.

"Kang No-eul," the other added.

Kang.

Your fingers hovered over the appointment log for a split second before you forced yourself to move, grabbing two clean cups and filling them with fresh coffee from the machine beside your desk.

"Follow me," you said, leading them toward the door in the back.

You knocked lightly before pushing it open, stepping inside just long enough to set the coffee down in front of Mr. Lim. He barely acknowledged you, his focus already on the two women stepping into the room.

"Sit," he said, motioning lazily to the chairs across from his desk.

Sae-byeok and No-eul exchanged a glance before doing as they were told. You remained standing by the side, silently preparing to sort through any paperwork if needed.

"I assume you have an update for us," Sae-byeok said, her voice steady despite the tension in her shoulders.

Mr. Lim exhaled through his nose, leaning back in his chair as he picked up his coffee. "That depends. You have the rest of my payment?"

Sae-byeok’s jaw tightened. "Not yet."

"Then my update is that nothing’s changed."

Silence hung heavy in the room. You could feel the frustration radiating off them, thick enough to suffocate.

No-eul was the one to break it. "Please," she said, leaning forward slightly. "We just need to know if she’s safe. If she’s still in the camp."

Mr. Lim took a slow sip of his coffee, setting the cup down with an infuriating lack of urgency. "Your mother was last reported in Hamgyong. The camp she was in had a tuberculosis outbreak recently. If she’s still alive, she’s not in good condition."

Sae-byeok’s fingers curled into fists against her lap, but she said nothing.

No-eul swallowed hard. "And my daughter?"

You hadn’t expected that.

You glanced at her, but her gaze was locked onto Mr. Lim, her expression carefully composed.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I told you before—there’s no way a child that young survived on her own up there."

No-eul’s face remained unreadable, but the way her nails dug into the fabric of her pants gave her away. "You said it was a possibility."

"I said there was a chance. A slim one."

You looked away, pretending to focus on the papers in your hands even though you weren’t actually reading them. You had heard a lot of things in this office—desperation, anger, bargaining—but there was something about this that felt heavier.

Sae-byeok took a breath, forcing her voice to remain level. "If we bring the rest of your payment, how soon can you get her out?"

Mr. Lim shrugged. "Depends on when she’s stable enough to move. And if she’s still there to be moved."

The room fell into silence again, thick with unspoken words.

You cleared your throat lightly. "Would you like more coffee?"

It was a stupid question, but it was the only thing you could offer.

Sae-byeok shook her head. No-eul didn’t answer.

Mr. Lim leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. "Look, I get it. You want her back. You want both of them back. But things like this take time. And money."

"We’re working on it," Sae-byeok said, standing abruptly. "Let’s go, No-eul."

No-eul hesitated for half a second before nodding, pushing herself up from her chair.

As they turned to leave, something in your chest twisted.

They were getting screwed over.

You had seen it happen before, countless times. Mr. Lim always made promises, always dangled just enough hope to keep people coming back. And most of the time, they had no choice but to play along.

But something about them—about the way they carried the weight of their family on their shoulders, about the way No-eul had asked about a child she refused to believe was gone—made you feel something you weren’t supposed to feel.

You weren’t supposed to care.

But as the door closed behind them, you found yourself gripping the edges of the paperwork a little too tightly.

Maybe this time… you did. Because the office felt heavier after they left.

You could still feel their presence lingering in the air—the frustration, the desperation. The way No-eul had clung to the possibility of her daughter being alive, the way Sae-byeok had clenched her fists so tightly you thought she might break skin.

And the way Mr. Lim—your father—had dismissed them so easily, as if their suffering was just another transaction waiting to be completed.

You swallowed, setting down the paperwork you had been pretending to organize.

"Dad."

The word felt foreign on your tongue in this office, like it didn’t belong here. And maybe it didn’t—not in a place where you were just his assistant, not his daughter.

But you said it anyway.

Mr. Lim barely looked up, his focus still on the papers in front of him. "What?"

You hesitated for a split second. Then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you said, "Is there anything I can do to help them?"

Silence.

For a moment, he didn’t react. Didn’t move.

Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze to you, dark eyes sharp and unreadable.

"You want to help them?" His voice was quiet, but there was something dangerous underneath it.

You nodded. "They’re trying to get their family back. And I—" You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. "I have access to information, to your files—I could help move things along, push the process faster. Maybe even—"

The sound of his palm slamming against the desk made you flinch.

"Are you out of your mind?"

You forced yourself to stand your ground, even as your heart pounded against your ribs. "I just—"

"You just what?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the already tense air. "You think this is some charity? That you can bend the rules just because you feel bad?"

You clenched your jaw. "It’s not about that."

"Yes, it is," he snapped. "You’re letting emotions cloud your judgment. You think you can fix everything just because you want to? That’s not how this business works."

You swallowed hard, but you didn’t back down. "I just don’t see why we have to make it harder for them than it already is."

Mr. Lim exhaled sharply, shaking his head. He leaned back in his chair, expression dark. "You’re weak."

The words stung more than you wanted to admit.

"You’ve always been weak," he continued, voice cold. "That’s why you’ll never last in this world. You get too attached, too emotional. You think people like them wouldn’t screw you over the second they got the chance?"

You knew better than to argue. He wouldn’t listen. He never did.

But still, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, "They’re not like that."

His eyes narrowed. "And you know that because…? You sat in a room with them for five minutes?"

You pressed your lips together, fingers curling into fists at your sides.

"Stay out of it," he said firmly. "Do your job, keep your head down, and don’t get involved in clients’ business. That’s not your place, and it never will be."

Your throat felt tight, but you nodded once, stiffly.

"Good," he muttered, turning back to his paperwork, already dismissing you. "Now get back to work."

You stood there for a moment longer, staring at him.

Then, without another word, you turned and walked out of the office, closing the door behind you.

You had spent your entire life listening to him. Following his rules, staying in your lane.

But for the first time, deep down, you knew you weren’t going to listen.

Not this time.

taglist: @yenyu1s @monroesturnns @katieschry1 @noeulswifeyy

#sae byeok #fanfic #saebyeok x reader #squid game #wlw fiction #kang sae byeok x reader #ˋ°•*⁀➷ all i really want is you #wuh luh wuh #angst #angst with a sad ending #angst with a hopeful ending

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lilmarshie · 1 day ago

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can you please do something sweet where reader comforts gi hun after s1?

Comforting Gi-hun After He Wins The Games HC’s

A/N- Thank you for the request, anon! I hope that

you enjoy these headcanons!

- After winning the games, Gi-hun, is in a state of shock and he’s coping with the traumatic experiences that he faced while in the games

- Gi-hun suffers from nightmares and flashbacks that make him unable to sleep at night

- He experiences immense guilt over the lives that were lost and the choices he had to make during the games

- You notice how distant he’s become and you want to help him overcome these difficulties but you give him the time he needs to process these emotions

- You start to help him by offering gentle advice, hugs, peppering his face with kisses, and being there for him when he’s finally ready to talk about what happened

- You also cook him his favorite meals, watch movies and shows with him, and go for walks with him to take his mind off of things

- You create a safe and secure environment for him at home to help him cope

- During the nights where he’s experiencing nightmares, you hold him close and, whisper soothing words and reassurance that you’ll always be there by his side

- Your presence is the solace he needs when he’s coping with these feelings

- You encourage Gi-hun to be open with you about what happened

- You let him know that you’re there to listen to him without judgment

- One evening, he finally starts to talk, sharing bits and pieces of the horrors he faced

- You listen intently, offering words of comfort and understanding, helping him unburden his heart

- You also encourage him to seek professional help if he feels comfortable, assuring him that it's okay to ask for support beyond what you can provide

- As time goes on, Gi-hun starts to reclaim his life back

- With your unwavering support, he starts to find moments of joy and peace

- You both talk about the future, making plans and setting goals that give him hope and a sense of purpose

- You celebrate small victories together, whether it's a day without nightmares or a moment of genuine laughter

- These milestones become precious reminders of how far he's come

#lilmarshie #squid games imagine #squid games x reader #squid game headcanons #gi hun squid game #seong gi hun imagines #gi hun headcanons #gi hun hcs #seong gi hun x reader #gi hun x reader #seong gi hun #gi hun #squid game x y/n #squid game imagine

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vcepsis · 3 days ago

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Saw this fantastic post from @thebigchoo and it would NOT leave me alone so I had to put my beautiful boy into a Situation. I've been going insane about JJK for the past few months so here is 3.5k of Gojo suffering!! Set in some kind of future AU where nothing bad happens <3

----

Satoru shifted against the chair, the thin felt covering doing nothing to stop the cheap plastic from digging into his back. Even with three layers on, he could feel every sharp, uneven edge, each dull bump and knob.

Shifting again, his glasses fell just slightly down his nose, letting in the faintest beam of light from the overhead fluorescents. With a bitten off groan, he shoved them back against his eyes with more force than necessary, wincing as the headache spiked anew.

This had been such a good idea–two weeks ago, when Suguru had first suggested it. He'd asked, then, if Satoru was interested in going with him to some mall in Tokyo with a new clothing store. And Satoru, ever ready to give his opinion on things, solicited or not, had happily agreed. Having Suguru as his own personal model to dress up had sounded like the perfect way to spend their day off. Of course, that had been before Satoru had managed to somehow catch the damn plague.

It had been over a week and things were not improving. Typically his immune system was better than this. He had hoped he'd be on the mend by now, but it had been so busy–his usual three hour, four a.m. nap had been cut to barely thirty minutes between missions. It wasn't surprising that he'd only managed to get worse.

Unfortunately, today was the only day their schedules lined up for a day off for another month. Suguru had offered to take a rain check that morning, frowning at the dark smudges under Satoru’s eyes and the skin rubbed raw around his nose, but Satoru had waved him off. It was fine. He was fine.

Now, two train rides and three hours later, Satoru wished he'd taken the out when it was offered.

Sniffling into the dark face mask–swiped from the infirmary on their way out; hopefully Shoko wouldn't mind–Satoru let his eyes flutter shut. Not that it helped; Six Eyes continued to feed him information, stimuli that was very much not asked for. They tended to act up when he was sick, either taking in too much or not enough. Today they were somehow doing both at the same time. The noise of the store pounded at his senses, and he was actually glad he couldn't smell anything–one less thing for his overstimulated brain to deal with.

Something in his chest shifted, and then he was coughing again, the sound ratty and violent. He pressed a shaking hand to his face mask, hoping to smother the sound–because Suguru did not need a reminder of just how sick Satoru was–but it was no use. They could probably hear him three stores down. He cringed at the thought.

Sensing Suguru’s cursed energy, he managed to sit up in time for the door to the changing room to open, Suguru stepping out. Part of the reason he'd invited Satoru in the first place was to get an unfiltered opinion, which Satoru absolutely excelled at. He willed the perpetual fog in his head to clear long enough to at least be somewhat helpful.

Suguru looked almost embarrassed, though Satoru couldn't understand why. His latest outfit was a crop top that showed off just enough of his abs to be tasteful, the hem of the high waisted pants creating something almost teasing. Satoru could feel how the three other people in the store stopped dead at the sight, and Satoru couldn't blame them one bit.

Clearing his throat, Suguru raised an eyebrow, though there was a faint blush across his cheeks. “Well?”

“You look hot,” Satoru rasped and–yikes. Suguru winced.

“Were those even words?” he asked, though the spreading blush suggested he heard it perfectly well.

Satoru coughed again, trying to clear the gunk out of his chest without devolving into another full fit. But his throat was on fire, like it was coated in glass wrapped in barbed wire.

“We'll go to that juice stall you like after this,” Suguru suggested, and Satoru flashed a quick thumbs up. Truthfully, the idea of any kind of food made him nauseous, but he wasn't about to mention that. Not that he would be able to taste it anyway.

“Seriously,” Satoru said after a minute, trying to push past all the crap in his lungs, “it looks good. You should buy it.”

Suguru hummed in response, still distracted. His enthusiasm for this trip seemed to be dissipating at the same rate as Satoru’s deteriorating condition, and it made something like guilt pool in his stomach. This was supposed to be fun, Satoru reminded himself. He tried to sit up straighter, tried to conjure up some more of his usual energy, but his head was pounding and he couldn't breathe through his nose which was somehow running and congested and everything hurt.

But dammit, it was their day off. “Try the blue one next.”

Suguru frowned, not looking convinced, but Satoru waved him off with a flap of his hand.

He leaned his head back against the chair as the door to Suguru’s changing room closed. Letting his eyes shut, he sniffled again, groaning softly as it did nothing to help the congestion. His head felt like it was stuffed with concrete, and he rubbed his nose through the mask with the palm of his hand, grimacing as it only exacerbated the wet feeling around his nostrils. A sneeze had been hovering somewhere in his sinuses since the morning, and he took a hitching breath in anticipation as the feeling surged, but it backed off at the last second, somehow adding to the congestion.

Letting out a sharp sigh, Satoru blinked his eyes open, shifting against the chair again in a vain attempt to find a comfortable position. But every notch and groove was digging into his skin, the fluorescent lights were like needles in his eyes even through his blacked out glasses, and every spike of cursed energy around him was clocked by Six Eyes in excruciating detail. Maybe this was hell.

The door to the changing room swung open then, Suguru stepping out in his street clothes. Picking up his head where it was still resting on the back of the uncomfortable chair, Satoru raised his eyebrows. “What–”

“I'm over this,” Suguru cut him off, a few of the things he'd tried on draped over his arm, including that crop top, Satoru noted. “Let's pay and get out of here.”

“If you're sure,” Satoru replied after a beat, too tired to argue. The relief at leaving mixed with the guilt of cutting the trip short, causing his stomach to churn.

At the counter, he offered to pay, but Suguru just scowled at him. “I didn't bring you here for your money,” he said sullenly.

Satoru didn't know how to express that he knew that. He wasn't trying to baby Suguru or patronize him. It was just the only way he knew how to apologize for forcing them to leave early. Originally he'd planned on hitting a few more stores, then getting dinner together, somewhere nice, but that plan had been thrown out the window when he'd barely been able to drag himself out the door that morning.

So instead, he just shrugged, stepping away from the counter so the clerk wouldn't have to hear his incessant sniffling.

The cough snuck up on him this time, and he stumbled out of the store as it ripped through him, pressing his fist against the mask. His lungs burned with the effort, the coughs crackling and painful. Leaning against a wall, he desperately tried to catch his breath as the fit subsided, pushing up his glasses to wipe at his watery eyes.

A hand touched his back, making him jump. Whirling, he turned to see Suguru, hand still outstretched and eyebrows raised in surprise.

Ugh. So Six Eyes had to tell him that there were exactly four people in the store across the way, but not that someone was coming up behind him? What the fuck.

“I–uh–are you okay?” Suguru seemed at a loss, and Satoru couldn't really blame him. When was the last time anyone–anything–had gotten the jump on him?

God, he was tired. The noise of cursed energy surged around them, smothering him like a tidal wave, pounding relentlessly against him. Somewhere nearby, a glass broke, and he winced as it felt like the shards were lodging into his brain.

The bag from the clothing store crinkled in Suguru’s hand as he took a step towards him. Suguru touched his elbow, and Satoru tried to focus on it, letting it anchor him in a sea of stimuli.

“Come on,” Suguru said softly, wrapping his long fingers around Satoru's arm in a loose hold, gently tugging him along. Satoru went willingly, doing his best not to trip over his own feet.

The noise started to fade as Suguru led him away from the busiest stores, taking him towards a more secluded part of the mall. They passed a bathroom, and Satoru took his arm back. Turning, Suguru raised an eyebrow in question.

“I'm gonna–” Satoru jerked a thumb towards the bathroom, not waiting for Suguru’s response before making his way in. Six Eyes told him it was empty–he could only hope it was right, though he didn't fully trust them today. Wasting no time, he practically ran inside, desperate for a moment to himself.

He pulled down his mask, relieved as the sensation of material on his face eased. Swiping a few paper towels, he blew his nose, though it didn't put a dent in the congestion and just made him cough in the aftermath. The paper towel was rough, scraping across the sensitive skin. Why hadn't he thought to bring tissues?

The urge to sneeze spiked again, and he tilted his head back to–nothing. Not even pushing his glasses onto his head to look into the ugly lights of the bathroom helped tease it out.

Tossing the paper towel into the garbage with more force than necessary, he caught his reflection in the mirror. No wonder Suguru had volunteered to leave early. His already pale complexion was a shade or two lighter, making him look downright lifeless, though there was a faint flush developing high on his cheeks. His nose was pink, except for around his nostrils, which was an angry red. And his eyes–ugh. Red rimmed and watery, their usually bright sheen was now dull and dark, which was obvious even behind his glasses.

Fuck. He shouldn't be out in public like this.

It was embarrassing, honestly, how easily he was falling apart. He was supposed to be the strongest. How his family would sneer at him if they saw him now, undone by something as mundane as a cold.

He sniffled aggressively, but still had to snag another paper towel to angrily swipe at his nose as it threatened to run down his lip. His throat burned, his eyes throbbed, he couldn't breathe right, his chest felt heavy, he'd been on the edge of a sneeze since he woke up and it was all driving. Him. Crazy.

A door in the women's bathroom slammed, and Satoru had to bite back a groan. The surge of cursed energy was back, and even if this part of the mall had fewer stores, it was enough to overwhelm him. Three teenagers walking by, their energy wild and unrestrained. Low level curses crawling around the women’s changing room twenty feet away. A child crying across the hall a spike in energy two stores down as a couple bickered the dripping water of the faucet in front of him the rattle of the pipes in the walls a sudden wave of energy from the food court–

“Satoru?”

Whipping his head up, he saw Suguru standing by the entrance to the bathroom, concern in his dark eyes.

“You've been gone for a while,” Suguru said, gaze flickering from his face to his hands as he walked slowly towards him.

It was only then Satoru realized he was gripping the edge of the sink hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

Something wet rolled down his face, and he only had a second to be horrified at the idea of his nose running before Suguru’s hand cupped his cheek, his thumb wiping away–a tear, it was a tear. Oh. Was he crying?

“Satoru?” Suguru said his name so tenderly. When was the last time he was treated softly when he was sick? He remembered being ill as a child, receiving the best medicine and the finest doctors, every need taken care of. But had anyone held him, or offered any kind of comfort? Maybe a few of the maids, if they were feeling particularly sorry for him, but never his parents. Had anyone touched him with gentle hands the way Suguru was now, like he was something precious? Not a commodity to be cultivated or a god to be shaped?

“You're a bit warm,” Suguru murmured, brows furrowed.

Satoru went to reply–maybe with something cheeky like I'm always hot or something embarrassing like can we please go home–but instead, all that came out was a choked sound. He felt another tear run down his cheek, and Suguru dropped the bag he was holding, bringing up his other hand to fully hold Satoru’s face, eyes wide in alarm.

“Satoru?!” he said again, more urgently.

“I–” The cursed energy surged again as a group of people walked by the bathroom, and it was all too much. He wanted to scream, but his throat was too raw to handle it. His hands flew to his head, knocking his glasses off in the process, and he couldn't hold back a frustrated sob.

Suguru acted immediately, wrapping a hand around his arm and tugging him into the bathroom stall, bag forgotten on the ground. Kicking the door shut and throwing the lock closed, Suguru yanked the cover of the toilet down before pulling them down to sit on the top. Despite Satoru being taller, Suguru managed to maneuver them so his face was pressed into Suguru’s chest, one hand on the back of his head, the other around his shoulders.

The tears came hot and fast. Satoru surprised himself by how many he had to shed, sobbing into Suguru’s shirt, clutching chunks of fabric like a lifeline. Suguru just held him, saying nothing, not even as Satoru stained his shirt with a disgusting mix of bodily fluids. But he couldn't stop, too miserable to even try. The noise was endless, his eyes throbbed, his head was too heavy to lift. His sobs burned through his scratchy throat, quiet and painful. Everything felt wrong, and even his clothes–his softest shirt, his most comfortable sweater, his warmest hoodie–were like sandpaper against his skin.

The only thing that felt right was Suguru’s hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, the other holding his head gently but firmly. Satoru tried to focus on that. He practically begged Six Eyed to cool it for a goddamn second, tried to direct their perception to hone in on the warmth of Suguru’s arms around him, but it only marginally succeeded.

The crying was not helping his congestion in the slightest, his whole face feeling gross. And wet. Suguru would need to burn this shirt, fuck. Satoru would buy him a replacement. Or ten replacements. Whatever he wanted.

It took a few long minutes, but the tears eventually slowed, Satoru left making sad, broken noises as he tried to breathe through the gunk in his head.

“Let's get you cleaned up,” Suguru said softly, “and then we'll get out of here, ok?”

Satoru could only groan at the thought of the train. Another three hours to get back. The idea made him dizzy.

“I called the school,” Suguru said, as if reading his thoughts. Satoru looked up at him, lashes wet, trying not to think about how pathetic he must look. “They'll send someone to pick us up.”

Satoru nodded, running the back of his hand across his runny nose, trying in vain to fix himself up at least a bit. Thankfully, Suguru’s shirt was black, any gross stains that Satoru left behind hidden. Not that Suguru seemed to mind.

Chuckling softly, Suguru reached over and unlocked the stall door with one hand, pulling Satoru up with the other.

“Come on, I got you.” With the patience of a saint–or maybe God himself, at this point–Suguru led him to the sink, but Satoru pulled back.

“S-Suguru, wait–” The crying had shifted the congestion just right, finally, and he was spinning away from Suguru to catch the resulting sneeze in his cupped hands. Then another, and another. The groan he let out afterwards was half disgusted, half relieved. He winced at the wet feeling in his palms, then shivered as a sudden chill went through him.

Behind him, Suguru sighed, but it sounded affectionate. “Come on, let's make sure your brains are still in your head.”

“Gross,” Satoru replied, voice crackling with the effort.

Suguru touched his back with one hand, guiding him towards the sink. Digging into his pocket with the other, he fished out a travel pack of tissues, peeling open the package and pulling one out.

“Here.” He offered it to Satoru, who was still hiding behind his cupped hands.

“Why d’you have this?” Satoru asked, snatching it out of Suguru’s hand as fast as possible. His shoulders hunched as he blew his nose again, the soft material of the tissue leagues better than the rough, horrible texture of the paper towels.

“Because you're sick,” Suguru replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Oh. Satoru held his hand out for another one silently, hoping Suguru couldn't see the way the blush extended all the way to his ears.

It took half the package before Satoru felt somewhat human again, though his reflection in the mirror told a different story. His eyes and nose were even redder, his cheeks ruddy from crying.

Ugh. He felt disgusting. All he wanted was to take a hot shower and then pass out.

It was only when he was washing his hands, with Suguru retrieving his glasses and the dropped bag, when he saw it–the cursed spirit at the entrance to the bathroom. Once again, Six Eyes couldn't be bothered to let him know. Before he could completely freak out, though, he finally noticed Suguru’s residuals on it.

“One of yours?” Satoru asked, somewhat unnecessarily. Ugh, his voice was officially shredded.

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “Just noticing now?” he asked playfully, the smile dropping off his face when Satoru didn't react. “Holy shit, are you seriously just noticing now?”

Scowling, Satoru returned his attention to washing his hands, scrubbing a bit more aggressively than necessary. It was embarrassing to be so caught off guard, even worse to be so called out about it. The cursed energy was all mixing into a confusing mess in his sludgy brain, making it harder to tell everything apart. Turning off the water, he flicked his hands into the sink, snagging a paper towel and refusing to meet Suguru’s eyes.

“Hey.” Suguru touched his cheek, pulling his face towards him. Satoru went willingly, despite his annoyance. “Sorry. I was just surprised.” Suguru touched Satoru’s forehead with the back of his hand, frowning. “You're really not well, Satoru.”

Satoru just shrugged, tossing the paper towel over his shoulder, where it landed in the garbage can despite the fact that his vision was going fuzzy.

Suguru was beside him before he could sway, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I got you.”

He shook out Satoru’s glasses with his other hand, gently sliding them into his face. They rested just the wrong way on the bridge of his nose, igniting the lingering tickle, and he just managed to pull the mask up in time to sneeze into it.

“Ugh”, he couldn't help but moan.

“Bless you,” Suguru said, amusement in his voice, though he squeezed his arm tighter around Satoru’s waist. “Let's get out of here.”

-----

“I'm sorry.”

Satoru blinked his eyes open, looking up at Suguru from where he was nuzzled into his side, Suguru’s arm around him in a way that could almost be called protective. The drive so far had been quiet, save for Satoru’s sniffling. Luckily the driver hadn't said anything when they came to pick them up, even if this was a gross misuse of school time and property. “For what?”

“I should have insisted we stay home,” Suguru said, sighing softly, the guilt in his voice unmistakable. “I shouldn't have dragged you out like this.”

Satoru hummed softly. “It's okay,” he said, hardly even audible with the way his voice kept cutting out. He coughed softly into the mask, but snuggled up closer. “I like spending time with you.”

Suguru’s arm tightened around him.

“Y-yeah,” Suguru said, a bit breathless. Then he smiled down at Satoru, warm and affectionate. “I like spending time with you, too.”

“Even when I'm all gross like this?” It was supposed to be a joke, but it came out more sincere than Satoru meant.

“Always,” Suguru responded, without hesitation. “Though I would rather you weren't feeling so shitty.”

Satoru hummed in response, letting his eyes close again. He rested his head on Suguru’s shoulder, and Suguru’s hand came up to card through his hair.

“It was worth it to see that crop top,” Satoru murmured, and Suguru just laughed, the sound low and affectionate.

#j/jk #jjk whump #sick gojo #illness #sickfic #cold #caretaking #vcep writes #anyway i had a great time writing this so i hope y'all enjoy #what even is my tagging system anymore #i need to put this guy into situations like i need oxygen #thank you for the post btw it was 10/10 and i just had to write something #it's longer than i anticipated and i originally planned on doing more #but i felt that 3500 words was probably enough lmao??

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skay-ali · 21 hours ago

Text

The Magician and the princess

Live again. Repeat everything.

A new you.

That was supposed to happen... you had your isekai moment, you ended up in a new world, you thought you would live an adventure with what this new world gave you, a life where you would give the least of yourself, one full of small adventures and laziness.

The fewer things you do the better, just you in a nice place lying down, the grass of some meadow, the branch of a large tree even in the sand of a beach.

You couldn't fulfill your dream, unfortunately you had something else more important to do.

You were a noble woman in this world... your duties were not the problem.

You had magic, you didn't have a big goal of being the best magician or anything like that.

There was an internal war in your family, you didn't really care about that either.

There was a girl, the daughter of the king or the emperor, you don't remember her title well, only the little girl.

How can we not remember that girl, little Philomel, the false princess... A repetitive story of royalty, with many questionable parts.

But you felt affection for the girl, to think that since she found that book her life changed, she was no longer the spoiled and spoiled girl who only wanted her father to see her, to tell her that he really loved her, you saw her change, to be a new girl terrified of her future, who lived each of her days with anguish hoping that they would not kill her, a strategist and actress by obligation, by survival.

You cried, in fact you became depressed when reading her story, much more knowing that not even her real parents felt anything for her, in the end the girl settled and accepted that she would not have love from her family.

And yet she continued in that place, where her childhood ended abruptly, only to save a false father who never tried to be her father when she was a child, and the real protagonist.

Well Philomel made his decisions, many at the expense of a new future and his happiness, for people who were nothing.

And here you go, a promising castle mage.

Ready to become her friend... or something like that, you were much older than her and your feelings were to save her from her agony, to be what she never had.

A mother or an older sister, you didn't care what she chose, you just wanted to be with her, to be her rock as she goes through her entire stormy future.

"Princess Philomel" you bowed giving him a bow.

You smiled kindly and acted elegantly, you practiced it non-stop.

You had to behave in a good way, earn his trust, he was like a kitten... scared and distrustful, you had to be careful. You were still afraid, if he didn't like you or saw you as a threat, he would never approach you, your whole plan would fail.

Plans don't always go as expected, the princess just bowed and greeted before continuing on her way.

You carefully noticed her actions, she did not have the behavior of a girl, the idea that she was following the rules and regulations of nobility was absurd, her behavior was always that of a lively, naughty and even spoiled girl... that was until she found the book, where everything changed, the childish Philomel became extinct.

That Philomel acted elegantly but still avoided all the nobles at the small party was a sign that he had already started collecting allies or some of his cards to survive.

You were short of ideas, getting his attention just trying to talk didn't work, and boy did you try.

What are you supposed to do now? Try to be his teacher? That will only serve to get you closer, he could very well see you as a possible spy, or as a small person who appreciates, as happened with his butler/housekeeper, you don't remember well what his role really was.

Being his servant was also an option, but it would be suspicious for a promising mage to leave her job to be a lady-in-waiting.

There were thousands of titles and roles that you could take, even so there were risks, consequences if you took a role that was not the right one.

You attend more parties at the palace, mainly the smaller ones that were for the princess.

It was a nightmare, you couldn't get along socially with the noble ladies and ladies, the anxiety that time was passing, with you not being able to get close to the princess, as you are supposed to even be her friend.

Even the dresses enchanted with magic failed to attract their attention, you tried so hard that you even managed to make the fabric take on the appearance of fairy wings, technically you created a fake but legal and beautiful fabric.

At least you managed to attract the attention of the other ladies, who began to follow you non-stop and create some fame for you.

"What a nuisance"

"At this rate I won't achieve anything"

The desperation was high, your body was beginning to feel the consequences.

You seriously wanted to help Philomel, it was silly, absurd, idiotic but if you were inside this world, faced with the entire plot that was developing, you couldn't sit idly by.

It was a matter of luck, as a way to release part of your stress you created animals with your magic, they were just their silhouettes, like drawings, surrounded by a glow, they could move, they came to life, some stayed around you and others disappeared, but somehow a cat figure that had disappeared among nature, upon its return brought something with it, rather someone, a little lady, the princess.

You watched her in silence, as she was surrounded by all the small animals that you created, now you only saw a happy girl and without worries, she played with the small animals, these creatures strutted around her, eagerly waiting for the girl to look at them, they exploded with ecstasy when she caressed them.

"I see you're having fun, princess."

Your figure posed in front of the girl who was surrounded by your creations.

You gave him a smile when you spoke to him.

"and you guys, you know it's annoying when you get lost and even more so when you cause problems" you pointed at the adorable looking creatures, you looked at them with fake anger.

You were caught off guard to see how the animals hid behind the princess in fear.

Seriously, they saw you as a monster even though you created them with so much love and affection, ppfff child, raise them with love and they will always repay you with a stab in the back.

"Because they run away from their problems and the worst they hide behind the princess, you are... impossible" you snorted when you saw the behavior of your creations, you clenched your fist, you couldn't even think about punishing them, they were too adorable for a punishment, maybe that's why they always get into mischief, they know that they will never be truly punished and that you will fix their mistakes.

You heard the small laugh of a child, when you took your eyes off your little ones, you were able to capture how little Philomel was having fun with the situation she had in front of her.

This time he didn't fake a smile or pretend that everything was fine, he was actually happy and things in this small place in the castle were calm, without danger and pressure.

You applauded when you came up with an idea, it was risky but it was worth trying.

"Oh, since we're here with your new friend, how about we invite her to eat with us at a nice picnic?"

All your little creations jumped with excitement, you moved your hands and thought about what you wanted, with a small yellow glow hundreds of plates appeared on a tablecloth and a basket in the middle, they slowly fell to the floor.

The little creatures pushed the princess who watched your little trick in amazement.

You sat elegantly on the floor and looked at the princess.

You couldn't help but smile, you finally managed to stay close to her for more than 5 minutes without her moving away.

"What do you say, princess, you would make us very happy with your presence at our little picnic" you looked at her, hoping that she would accept.

You saw how your little ones made sad faces so that the little girl could see them.

"I..."

"Don't worry princess it will be a secret" you put a finger on your lips

"besides I have many delicious desserts, some are unknown in this kingdom" it was exhausting for you to go to different places to look for many unknown desserts, but you did everything to be able to get closer to Philomel.

You saw how the girl looked at you with skepticism, suspicious of your intentions, she was still a child and was already careful with her surroundings.

"Ahhhh but don't feel pressured, I'm not a threat, just a mage bored with her job in the palace"

"maybe another day" nervously you tried to sound less suspicious to the princess.

You quickly took a cupcake decorated with icing and a jelly bean that looked like a sphere that reflected the galaxy inside.

They turned out pretty on you, nothing better than a sweet to relieve sadness.

You were taken by surprise when the girl sat on the big blanket next to all the little animals made with magic.

You took another cupcake and held it out to him.

His hand hesitated for a second before taking the cupcake.

Well your mission may not advance much but at least you had a great picnic with little Philomel.

Step by step you continued with the girl, it was a common thing for the two of you to have picnics in the afternoons.

As you observed, she was still surrounded by those despicable people who pretended to love her, when in reality they despised her.

Poor girl, finding out that the only people who had been by her side for as long as she could remember actually had contempt for her was very sad.

But you couldn't interfere, that would raise suspicions, not only from Phil but also from his fake father.

Now you could only exchange conversations while drinking tea and eating desserts.

Slowly you got closer to the girl, it took you by surprise, when you were reading a book for the little princess and your little magic creations, you felt her lying on your legs with the little animals, all entertained by the words that came out of your mouth.

She was such a sweet girl, the little girl's action did not go unnoticed by you, when she caressed all the little animals made with magic, she took turns with each one and placed them on her stomach or her dress, she made sure that everyone had their moment, you even saw her worried about each little animal.

It was a slow day, the large garden was calm, without any visitors. Well except for you and Philmonel.

The girl had asked you to come today in the afternoon, due to the schedule that the princess had, you always expected her to tell you what day and what time she would come to the garden for her meetings, the short and few meetings that happened every week, turned into long and many meetings, when they knew each other more.

"Tell me Phil, have you ever heard of fairy godmothers?"

You were delicately braiding the girl's hair, as well as tangled flowers in her hair.

"uh.. I think I read about them in a book" she didn't pay much attention to you, you saw her concentrating on making tiny flower crowns and placing them on the heads of the little magical animals.

You saw the mini bear trying to imitate Phil's actions, one of the kittens modeling the crown on his head with great grace in front of the other animals, the rabbits lying with their crowns on the girl's lap, one of the dogs bringing flowers to the girl, the girl taking them with a smile to continue building more crowns.

"And if I told you that you exist" you continued insisting.

"uhh.... that would be interesting" there was her seriousness and lack of enthusiasm, you didn't blame her now she was trying to be a good girl so as not to bother anyone and survive.

"Come on, think more about that" you continued to insist, it was a calm day, which meant that you were very far from the main plot, it was a great opportunity to intervene without getting into trouble.

"Fairies grant wishes, don't they? Have you ever thought about a wish that you long for so deeply?"

You were direct, as much as you could, what child wouldn't want a wish without limits? Even with the role of princess, it's not that easy to be happy or get everything you want, there were limits, but when your position inside the castle was complicated, it's the same as walking on thousands of fragile eggshells that could get you in trouble if you break them a little.

Even for this girl full of fear and anxiety, having a wish could be a great light in her life.

Would she ask to flee from this place and never be found? Would she wish she were someone else? Some power or ability to help her survive.

She would even be so desperate that she would beg for her executioner or the girl who would end her life to be killed? No, she would not ask for someone's death.

Although she had her selfish actions, she cares about others.

"a wish..." the little girl was thoughtful with that question.

You smiled bitterly when you saw her so thoughtful, for her a wish was a miracle... she wasn't thinking about wealth, jewelry or dresses, she wasn't thinking about something to have fun with, but rather a wish calculated for her survival plan.

You wanted to get closer to Philomel, for her to trust you, to become her confidant, to take her away from this castle so she could have a moment of happiness, even if you changed the story, you would go wherever she asked you...

"You know what I would ask for" you brought the girl out of her thoughts when you spoke.

"a man, who is a few years older, very handsome, with a good complexion, who is kind" you began to ramble with some qualities of your perfect boy very excited.

"ah he has to be tall, I wouldn't care if he weren't a genius, I would take care of everything" you said sonorously.

"...." you only received a judging look from the girl, you felt like an alien or a weirdo.

"Come on, don't make that face" you pressed a finger on the girl's cheek, trying to make fun of her.

"at some point you will also dream and long for love."

"I don't believe it... I reject that thought" the girl spoke hurriedly, perhaps? I was embarrassed.

"Is that so? You don't have a cute boy hiding there" you continued provoking the girl.

Your fingers tangled in the small strands of hair that stood out in Phil's hairstyle, you twisted a finger over each strand giving it a loop shape.

"No!, of course not" you saw how he puffed out his cheeks angrily as he protested, wow he didn't even try to maintain his composure.

Maybe romance was still a taboo subject for the girl.

"If you find a boy... will you leave?" His question caught you off guard.

Love, such a complex word, you couldn't experience it well in your old life.... you have no memory of it, everything was blurry if you searched your mind about romance and couples.

You assume your life sucked that way so your mind had nothing.

"No, because I would do something like that, I will stay by your side and that man better do it too" faithful to your promise you ignored the distractions, friends before boys.

Of course you and Phil weren't friends yet, but you ignored that too.

"But if he doesn't want that, if he comes to hate that idea..."

Was I worried about you leaving? Ah, that was a joy for you, you were moving forward.

Today you would celebrate with a glass of wine and some desserts.

"So he's not the one Phil" your hands caressed the girl's head.

Hearing that was a relief for Philomel, just thinking about that possibility caused her worry, you came out of nowhere and bombarded her a lot with your presence, you were intrusive and annoying... but seeing your smile, your kind words, they cut her off, she wanted to believe in you, she let her guard down every time they saw each other, until you became a constant in her life. It was suspicious, I knew it well, you never appeared in the book, you were not even mentioned.

An unknown presence, possibly from another world, your strange behavior was a sign of that.

You never asked him for anything, you didn't even try to benefit from his friendship, you were the one who offered him many things, even if they sounded impossible or crazy.

You made her feel appreciated, your small gestures like desserts along with picnic parties, the conversations you had even if they were absurd, you listened to her, you actually did! You played along many times, you always smiled lovingly at her, your hands were warm, every time you landed on her head or her face, even when you gave her your hands.

You were very warm, you were like a light, you made her feel safe, loved and appreciated. Is this how a family should feel? If that was the case, he hoped he would always feel it, even if he was selfish, he wanted you to never leave his side.

#yandere platonic #philomel #philomel the fake #yandere manwha #yandere manhwa x reader

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z0n1x · 2 days ago

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shitty soundpage commentary 2!

part 1:

https://www.tumblr.com/z0n1x/775758866285838336/ok-meowrther-fucker-where-doing-this-where-making

all the good stuff is under the cut!

IS HE FINALLY GONNA GET HIS BEC KILL??

why is bec blanc glowing yellow???

LMAOOOO THEY LOOK SO SCARED

its lalonde suicide time!!!!

huh i guess hope can do like anything so protecting the point with it isnt out of the question but then why didnt jake do something like this earlier

also you cant see it but jane is MASHING that button the laser goes like 5 different times

why does one of them have funko pop proportions??? did jade do that?

her goose is FULL ON CHARCOAL at this point

okay what the fuck?? maybe like with all the bodies she considered all of the dead soldiers one organism and “healed” all of them by fusing them together???? or maybe it’s just cool and im over thinking it

hmmm wouldn’t the dead trolls eyes turn white? maybe i heard this wrong but i thought dead troll bodies eyes turned white when they died and their ghost self reflected this

also THE LITTLE :3 FACED OLIVE TROLL EVEN IN DEATH LOLL

the true biggest loss….. his pizza also is he wearing cat paw slippers?

what if….. we were both D:, and we ran into the sunset together 0////0

after everything….. you can still see your mustache

how does the mustache…. you know what ill go with it

“riiiiiight here please you cant mess this up there is literally 0 chance you cant hit this unless jane has started building a death star”

awwww shit jasperose was right :/

how the hell did she get johns phone???

god the artstyle difference is crazy

also i just noticed (vriska) got a tavros style haircut

HELL YES THEY FINALLY GET TO LEAVE

lmao

I CANT CONVEY HOW COOL THIS MOMENT IS GO WATCH IS YOURSELF!

blue (vriska) shading (light) compared to earliers purple (rose) shading on roses face

just a cool detail

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

hmmmm im stuck between thinking this is just like extra godtier vriska or ult!vriska…

let me say though that the way that she stole rose’s knowledge of what was going to happen away from her is very thief of light-y

and of course stealing the spotlight…

bec blanc is way bigger than i thought if theres someone in there piloting it when their that small

AHHHH WITH KARKAT BEHEADING IT AND THE BLOOD RED COLOR ALREADY BEING ALL OVER BEC BLANC ITS JUST SO COOL

hmmmm new fire motif? im into it but it feels sort of out of left field for vriska

this new design is so cool yall

ohh lol i get it sun over the moon

but also with the increase in red in the design and her trying to message terezi i wonder if shes going to talk about terezi more since a big accent color for terezi was red and they had matching red shoes and stuff

i do like what they did with the eight to infinity thing and im glad theyre using it more in this new era of vriska if youll pardon my bs

also: more fire

AW SHIT SHES GOING FOR THE BIG GOAL

AAAAAAND

SHE SCORES!! (????????)

WILL IT BE JUST! WILL IT BE HEROIC (probably not) FIND OUT NEXT TIME LIKE IN A MONTH!

lol if you read all of this thanks for listening to me quote memes and badly theorize for a bit!

and if future me is reading this to see what i thought was going to happen: did i get anything right? ;3

part one: https://www.tumblr.com/z0n1x/775758866285838336/ok-meowrther-fucker-where-doing-this-where-making

byyyyyye!

#zonix talks #long post #looooooooong post #homestuck #upd8 #[s] 8r8k #hs:bc #homestuck beyond canon #vriska serket

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agentdagonet · 3 days ago

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Trying to get back into the swing of things outside of my one story I keep plucking away at, and I’ve had this saved in my ‘to be written’ folder for a long while so. Here we go.

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The thing about Soulmates was they were more heartbreak than they were worth. Eggsy never forgot his mum’s ‘I love you’ running down he cheekbone, the way it went from stark black to faded grey, the way he could barely see it now with how diligently she covered it with makeup.

See you never knew who they were until you lost them, yeah? You could spend your lives together, or you could have one conversation on the street, and you’d never know until the next time you happened to look at your Mark. No special sensation, and no one could figure out why they happened in the first place. Most people thought they popped up when whoever was involved was emotionally ready for commitment- they didn’t seem tied to age or first meeting, one day they were simply there where they hadn’t been before.

The only thing they all had in common was loss. Lost opportunities, cemented in the greyed-out text on your skin. Some people only ever had one Soulmate, and others had several, and some had none at all- though a disproportionate amount of the people in the last category were happy to be on their own. Or to use people with no one in mind but themselves- see Dean.

Eggsy didn’t claim to understand it, but he couldn’t avoid it entirely despite that being one of his deepest desires. He wanted nothing more than to fall in love, have a family, get everyone he cared for to safety, and die of old age. The last bit would be a miracle at this point, having decided Kingsman was a fine place to keep a job, but the rest remained true. But even with all of that, he didn’t really want to meet his soulmate in the first place.

His Words weren’t as generic as some... but they weren’t kind, either. It meant that his soulmate, whoever it was, would leave him for the last time in anger. They ran along the edge of his right foot, up and down the arch, in a place mostly disregarded. Ideal for a Kingsman, according to Merlin, not that he had any control over it.

‘I’m so sorry Harry, I’m gonna do e-’

‘You should be. You just stay right there. I’ll sort this mess out when I get back.’

I’ll sort this mess out when I get back

It felt like the world froze, the too-familiar Words bouncing around his skull like a good game of pong.

... sort this mess out...

And yet it felt like they were swimming through black treacle, thick and sticky and bittersweet.

... when I get back

No. Nononono-

‘Shit, fuck, Harry!’

Had Harry’s Words been Eggsy’s apology? Did he receive so many of those that this one hadn’t rung any bells?

Harry had made his way swiftly from the house, it seemed, as the Kingsman Cab he’d run off with was disappearing around the bend by the time he got to the door. Eggsy was alone with Mr. Pickle and the butterflies, cursing the small part of himself that had been hoping.

Here he’d been imagining a future, unlikely as it was to come to fruition, and yet nothing had prepared him for this.

I just had the most heartbreaking idea for a soulmate!AU

what if they didn’t they don’t have the first words they say to each other written on their skin, but the last ones?

Imagine Harry saying that he’ll fix this mess after he comes back and Eggsy just freezes, because no, and then he says “Harry no!” but Harry is already out of hearing range, so he never hears the words that are written on his skin.

#Dagonet Writes #kingsman #hartwin #soulmate au #kingsman fic #fanfiction #hope these are the right tags #tumblr prompt

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notlhecxzsa · 8 hours ago

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And I Will Hold On To You - N.R

Summary: A story isn't complete without its challenges. But, this time, the challenge seemed to be so much more than what Natasha had thought. It seemed to affect her so much more than what she had thought. History comes resurfacing, how will Natasha reshape the future? Their future.

Author's Note: I got a little excited here mweheheheheh I mean, who wouldn't? Horny and simp beefy Natasha is just 👌🏻ANYWAYSS, I hope you'll enjoyyy!

Warnings: Masturbation, Nat getting caught red handed by her little housewife, swearing, Nat seeing red getting drunk and coming home all soft to her girl, mention of physical and emotional abuse

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Natasha's POV:

"Fuck..." Throwing my head back as I fastened the motion of my hands, the other gripping the sheets as I spread my legs wider. "Just like that, baby. Yes, just like that." My knuckles turned white as I balled my hand around my cock.

The sun rays are invading my room little by little, I knew I had to get up soon before the girl with me inside this house could get up. I promised her that I would take her out in the park so we could have a morning walk, but last night's masturbation wasn't enough for me. Fuck, nothing is enough.

I can't find it in myself to go out and take someone, not once for the past couple of months. The flashes of a certain face came running through my mind. God, how her legs shined while wearing the shortest dolphin short I've ever seen, how she looked bending down to get something out of the stove, and how her tank top showed just enough cleavage—fuck.

I urged myself to get rid of the same thoughts that put me to my mercy in circumstances like this. I've never felt so weak.

"Fuck, yes, yes..." Moaning out, I felt the coil in my lower abdomen build up as I grip my shaft. "You like that, huh? Fuck, I'll fill you up so good, detka. Gonna knock you up and make you my little cumdump, hmm..." I knew I wasn't gonna last a few more seconds so I braced myself.

The hand gripping the sheets until it crumpled underneath my hand went to reach and squeeze the sac beneath my wood that didn't even fit in my large hands. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." Closing my eyes as I became lost to my senses. My ears ringing as my mind made up things I knew that I would feel guilty after. "Yes, yes, yes, Y/n. God, yes, take all of it. Take all of me." With one last movement, I felt the liquid spurting out and falling everywhere, specially on my abdomen as my packs flex and my thighs spasms.

With still my eyes closed, I moved a few more times before letting the long shaft go as I push my legs back down flat on the bed. Getting back my bearings, I breathed in and out and one of my hand went to glide through my hair.

There was a beat of silence before a thump made me look up and snap my eyes open, immediately setting on the figure by the door.

Fuck.

"Y/n!" Sitting up, I scrambled to cover myself up, a little grateful that I still have my sports bra on. "Fuck, sweetheart." I rolled on the other side to quickly put on my pants, not bothering to find my boxers.

Her hair was messy, face puffed and a certain sleepiness visible in her wide eyes while there is a blush in her cheeks. "I-I'm s-sorry! I'm- I'm so sorry, I- I didn't..." Her eyes avoided my gaze as I approached her hesitantly, but I noticed how it kept gazing coyly to what I was playing earlier. "I-I thought something happened to you..."

She gripped the teddy bear she was holding a little more tighter each seconds. I could only imagine what I looked like.

"No... No, detka. It's-..." I cleared my throat and swallowed an invisible lump, not knowing what exactly to say. Only if I could command the ground to swallow me. "It's fine. I'm so sorry, I don't—I didn't hear you. I- I uh..." I rambled as my hand unconsciously went to cover my cock, feeling it hardening once again as I caught her trying her best not to stare at it.

Fuck, how much did she saw? Oh god, how much did she hear?

"How about you go get ready, hmm?" I immediately said, taking a hold of the doorknob, meaning that I'd have to take a couple of more steps towards her. I reached out to pat her head, putting my body sideways so that the door is covering my lower body. "Don't bother making breakfast, we'll eat at the park, see you later, darling." Closing the door as soon as I can.

As soon as it closed, I leaned my back towards it and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. My eyes looked down and saw how hard I became once again.

Throwing my head back, I groaned.

"Fuck this life."

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As soon as I sprayed enough perfume, I went outside my room, my eyes quickly averting to look at the room across mine, wondering if she's done getting ready. I made my way to the living room where my question has been answered. By the balcony is where she stood, wearing the dress I bought for her the last time we went out which is 5 days ago.

The past few days has been nothing but... a breath of fresh air. Everything felt like a life I never once knew I needed, but now it's all I could think about. From morning walks around the landscape of this penthouse, late night movies, board games in the middle of a boring afternoon, and delicious foods she'd make.

It felt surreal, but it is something that I hold deeply. Something that no amount of money could ever replace.

Something that made me feel that I have something to hold on to.

"Detka, you ready?" I asked, and she turned just in time a gush of wind softly hit her figure. Her dress flowed just as her hair that was into a half ponytail waved through the air.

"Uhh, y-yeah..." She looked at everywhere but me as she approached. "I hope this- this is fine..." She motioned to the simple baby pink dress she was wearing, a thin strap on her shoulder, and a ribbon by the chest. She paired it with a white comfortable beach sandals.

"You look beautiful, baby." I reached and pinched her cheeks slightly, smiling down at her.

She perked up shyly, a faint blush visible on her cheeks. "Y-You look beautiful too, Natalia." I grinned at her, before sliding my hands down to take a hold of hers.

"I did my best." I shrugged, chuckling, making her giggle.

I put on a denim pants and plain black t-shirt, a sunglasses hanging by the neck line. As we went outside and into the elevator, there was an invisible weight around the atmosphere, but it doesn't feel uncomfortable, just a certain tension hanging between us.

I have no doubt it was because of earlier. Which, I have no idea how to bring up about—not that I have any plans to do so.

"What do you want to eat for breakfast, doll?" I asked, putting a hand on the small of her back as we approached my car, lined up with the others.

"Whatever is fine. You can pick." She said, getting in as I opened the door for her.

I went to the other side and got it. "Hmm, I was thinking of crocodiles." I catch in my peripheral vision how her head snapped towards me, making me chuckle. "Just kidding, detka. Come on, tell me. Would you like to go to that pancake house? Or that one where you like their fruit shakes the most?" I offered her options, knowing how hard it is for her to pick and decide.

Something that I am silently trying to help her overcome. Something I could only wonder how come she acts that way.

"Hmm, would you like some fruit shakes?" I turned to look at her with a smirk of amusement. A chuckle bubbling up inside me.

"We could do the fruit shakes one." I said while nodding.

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"What do you want, sweetheart?" I asked, sharing the menu with her as I leaned towards her.

One of the things I've learned about her is she tends to get nervous and a little overwhelmed in public, especially in crowded places. Once, it got so much that she requested me to sit next to her. And, I did, with no hesitation. From then on, I got used to sitting by her side. I'm not even complaining, not even a bit—for someone who hates letting anyone inside her personal space, as what Clint had described it.

"Can I have the strawberry milkshake, please?" She looked up at me, I shook my head a little and smiled at her, my hands automatically reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"That again?" I asked teasingly, I watched as she immediately looked down at the menu, scanning it once again. It took her longer than the first pick, and as soon as I caught her thumb picking the side of the cardboard, I spoke.

"You could do that, detka, if that's what you want. Don't worry." Sending her a smile while my hand caressed the back of her waist. I flipped the page of the menu with my other hand, going over to the entrees before I started telling the waitress what we will be having for drinks.

"Can you pick for me, Natty?" She asked, looking up at me with her usual doe eyes. Fuck, not now, baby.

I don't even know what is up with me. When we started getting closer, I just couldn't help it. I felt so guilty everytime I would fantasize about her. God, I would ruin everything about her, and I know I could, but I chose not to.

Gazing away, I nodded, pulling away my arm that is around her, clenching it on my lap, underneath the desk. "How about frittata? Along with some bacons then we could do some croffles, hmm?" I felt her nodded as I heard her small hum.

"Yes, we could do that." She responded quietly.

I told the waitress what we were ordering, and as soon as the woman went away, I felt her shoulder relaxed at my side. Silence enveloped us, the tension still cutting the atmosphere that surrounds us.

"Y/n..." I called out to her, my hands automatically reaching to settle on the pale skin of her thighs. "Look..." I looked at her in the eyes, only to look down as hotness spread from my neck up to my cheeks. "About earlier... I uh..." Trying to find the right words to explain what I did, and what I said while doing it. For sure, she heard me scream her name.

She's looking up at me with expecting eyes, laced with confusion and so much innocence. "It's okay, Natty..." She started before I felt her hand holding mine ever so gently, only putting the weight of hers on mine. "Y-you... you have needs..." She looked sideways, as if shying away from my gaze. "I know what you were doing." She looked back up at me.

My heart skipped a bit. "I learned about it once and it was mentioned on one of my lectures back then. And, I..." Again, she looked away, pulling away from my hand as she did so. "I also know that... partners—husbands and wife help with each other's need—but, I—..." Looking back up at me. "I didn't know that... you- you have..." She looked back down at my crotch for a few second before looking up at me.

Hotness seemed to have found a home on my cheeks as the feeling of it lingered and seemed to become more stronger each seconds. "I-I'm sorry I didn't—It didn't crossed my mind that you'd figure out that way, I really didn't intend you to. What you see—what you heard, everything, I apologize for it. I know none of it appropriate." I rambled, only to be met by her hand holding mine, somehow urged me to stop.

"It's okay, Natty. Really." Her eyes were so soft, her voice mimicking the sound of a lullaby as it reached my ear. There was a faint movement in her lips as a faint scarlet hue started to spead on the apple of her cheeks. "I'm your wife..." She started and once again, I felt my heart stopping in a beat. "You could have called me to help you—not that I know much but I—I'm ready to learn." Once again, she looked up, her eyes doe and her soft lips tight, as if shying from the information she just expounded.

Words left my mouth as my mind became so empty. I didn't know what to say and I couldn't keep my mind straight. Not that I know much, but I'm ready to learn. Fuck.

"Detka..." I started but got cut off when our order started piling up, the tension that was once in the air now gone. I was left with only a heart beating so fast and a mind in chaos.

I'm your wife.

Fuck, how could she have this affect on me?

This is absolutely not allowed.

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Y/n's POV:

"Maria." I heard Natalia called out from behind me, I averted my attention from the kids who was talking to me and towards her to see that she's in call with Maria.

I turned back towards the kids who was talking to me, asking if I could help them take the ball that was sent flying in the pond. It wasn't that far, and I could surely do the favor, so I stood up only to be held back by Natalia on the wrist.

I saw how sharp she turned her gaze at the kid, laced with curiosity and question as she held the phone on her ear. I reached and pointed towards the ball that was floating in the pond.

I watch as her brows furrowed, shaking her head as she stood up. "You did? Very well, meet us in the penthouse, we'll be coming back now." She said over the phone before she hung up.

"Please, please, go get it!" One of the kids pleaded, and I offered him a small reassuring smile, opening my mouth to talk.

"I know, sweetheart, wait-" Once again, Natasha tugged my arm.

"Hey, no. Don't mind them. Come on, we gotta head back home." She stated, looking around the scenery.

"B-but—wait, let me just get the ball for them." I started to pull away only to be tugged back by her again.

"What? No way you're going to get that. Come on, baby." She tried walking away while pulling me with her once again, but in return, I tugged her back.

"Wait! I promise it'll be fast. Look at them..." I gestured at the kids who are pouting. They've been playing in front of us the moment we took our seats on the bench by the park. They waved hello and sent smiles in our way. One of them even complimented me and the dress I was wearing.

Natalia took a glance behind me, where the little kids were and she rolled her eyes. She took a glance on the ball, and looked back down at me. "I'll get it, stay here." Grumbling, she pulled away and approached the pond.

I smiled while the kids cheered. "Go Natty!"

She started leaning in, but before she reached out to the ball she looked back up at me. The wind blew, so I held my dress down as I smiled up at her.

She shook her head and started reaching, as soon as she got a hold of the ball she tossed it to the ground, scowling as she did so before the kids ran up to her. Two of the girls hugged her legs while the other cheered gratefully.

I laughed and clapped. "Superhero in sight!" I yelled playfully.

She averted her attention from the kids with a scowling face and up to mine. It relaxed as soon as she met my eyes. Her eyes held weight in them, something I've gotten used to and became grateful for ever since we started becoming closer to each other. But, her face held no heavy expression, as if the slight upward motion of the side of her lips was only for me to notice.

Her gaze held mine for almost a minute before she started pulling away from the kid, as soon as she did so she started walking to me. "Dirty little—" I narrowed my eyes at her and she stopped mid sentence as she patted her pants, as if trying to get off an invisible dirt. "...animals." She finished before taking a hold of my hand.

"Come on, we should get going." Now that she's closer, I noticed the certain softness in her features. Something I've never seemed to notice before. Maybe, it's just because of the sunlight hitting all the right places in her face.

I felt a pool of something unfamiliar circling around my lower abdomen—the same one I felt earlier when I accidentally... saw her. And, just like earlier I ignored it and nodded as I let her pull me away from where I stood.

I waved goodbye to the kids who also did the same, reciprocating the plastered smile on my face. "Hurry up, baby, come on." I heard Natalia called out. I muttered a few apologies and caught up to her pace.

1 step of her is multiplied by 3 with mine. She's so fast and tall, maybe that's why.

"Can I eat the strawberry chocolates you bought yesterday, Natty?" I asked.

She chuckled, her arm draping across my waist, as if to help me pick up with her pace, but she slowed down a little. "We're not even home yet, you're already thinking about that?" She replied jokingly, but hotness spread across my cheeks.

"Oh... I'm sorry..." God, does she think I eat a lot?

"Don't worry baby, it's all yours, yeah?" A kiss was left on my hairline as I felt a squeeze on the skin of my waist.

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"Maria!" I almost ran towards her, jumping on my tippy toes waiting for her to spread her arms, silently asking for a hug so I won't make her uncomfortable.

Just as always, she did with practiced ease as a welcoming smile spread her face. She's one of my favorites!

"Hey, angel." She greeted before we pulled away.

Looking up at her face, I noticed how she glanced towards Natalia behind me, a hollow expression evident in her eyes as the smile faded away. I stepped aside immediately, looking back at Natalia, just in time for her to say something.

"Doll, how about you go to the kitchen and eat the strawberries? Me and Maria just gotta talk about something important." She smiled at me, approaching as she reached out to caress the skin of my forearm, pulling me until she encaged me with both of her arms before pushing me towards the kitchen.

"Oh—okay. Would you guys like something to eat also?" I asked thoughtfully.

"No, we're fine. We'll get to you if ever." Natalia replied with finality, kissing my forehead before she led Maria by the balcony.

My gaze lingered at them for a moment before walking away, excited to eat my strawberry chocolate!

Natalia said I could have all of it, but I will leave her some.

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Maria's POV:

I glanced as Natasha closed the sliding door. I pulled out my laptop and put it on a table, a USB already intact. "What did you find?" She pulled out a chair and sat, glancing towards my laptop.

Our gaze met, but still I couldn't find enough courage to say anything. I couldn't even form the words bit by bit. Being by her side for years, I know for one that a look in the eyes is enough for her to tell something. Pulling my gaze away, I started pulling out files after files.

I pushed the laptop towards her, making sure that the screen is facing her. Soon enough, the same sound of agony that encouraged me to dig deeper filled the air. I was quick to lessen the noise and check back inside the house.

"Fuck..." I heard her mutter underneath her breath. Glancing at her face, and then towards the laptop to see a girl trembling in the hallway. Looking away, I started to talk.

"I managed to get inside their system. It wasn't that hard, Bucky helped me. I only got a hold of a couple of... footage..." Taking a glance at her, I watched as she tensed her jaw, her eyes darkening in a shade that I know too well. Too well. "I figured that there's a lot more than that." Reaching out to my bag, I pulled out mulitiple files.

I put down 2 files, arranging them so she could see the information and pictures about the 2 people. "Arthur and Robert, they are her personal bodyguards way back before. I think they know more than what we'll—you'll need. But, after doing some more digging, I found out that Arthur had resigned a couple of months ago."

Pulling out 1 more file, I took a deep breath, gaze watching the redhead's face intently. "Lucille Lopez..." I started and Natasha paused the video, which might be the second footage I've found.

Where Y/n is being beaten in the middle of their living room.

She took a hold of the paper, almost tearing it with how she's gripping it. Her face held no emotions, but I could see a certain recognition crossing her eyes. "She's her caregiver, from the day that she was born up until... Y/n left and went here. But, just like Arthur, she resigned the same day that Y/n left." Putting all the other files that were left in my hand on the table, I took a deep breath.

"The last video there..." I reached to pull out the video, now in the kitchen. "That was... the day before Y/n went here. Something real tells me that's where she got all those... marks and bruises from, Nat." I almost cringed at the thought of seeing those raw marks in her pale skin.

Something I never thought would be implanted into her innocent skin.

"These..." Clearing my throat, I continued. "These are hospital records. All from different dates but only one institute." She looked up at me with a questioning gaze, only then did I notice how red her eyes were starting to become. "It was all I could pull out from... the hospital that her parents are big stakeholders of." I finished.

A certain sound coming out from the laptop caucaught her attention, and after hearing and watching this for the nth time, it still caught mine too. An agonizing scream, almost as if trying to relieve the situation that the world has sucked her into. It felt like a screeching sound in my ear, my heart tightened at the sound, just like it did while gathering all this data.

I could only imagine what Natasha might feel.

She slammed the laptop shut and breathed heavily through her nose. She reached towards the medical files, her eyes almost getting out of their sockets with how fast she's scanning the papers.

"Fuck..." She cursed again, but now I could hear how her voice wavered. Almost breaking as it did so. She almost sent the files flying with how she threw it on the table. "Fuck, Maria." She whispered underneath her breathe, her hands going over to silde it up and down her face aggressively.

She quickly stood up, putting both of her hands on the table as if it would ground her. The screeching sound of chair made me pulled a face, thankfully the sliding door is soundproof. "Fuck, that's why she flicnhes at the slightest touch. At the fucking slighted touch, Ria." She pointed out, I stood up and put a hand on her shoulder.

"I know, I know, sit down and calm down. Come on—" I was cut off when she aggressively pulled away and started pacing.

"No! How can I fucking do that? Did you see that?" She motioned towards the things around the table. "She jumps at the slightest loud sound, she's scared asking the simplest question—hell she can't even make her own decisions without having this—without looking like a fucking child!" She walked towards the edge, holding onto the railing.

I followed her, checking to see that Y/n still haven't check up on us. "Fuck, Maria, I don't think—I don't..." I analyzed her.

Bucky and Steve owes me and Clint their 100 dollars.

I have seen her in a distress condition, mulitiple times. But now? I feel like I'm looking at a very different person. Her emotions are resurfacing, flowing through the edge. Her expression hollow, empty but her eyes held so much. Redness spreading from her next up to her cheeks, her knuckles almost turning white with how tightly she gripping the railings.

"Lucille..." She started. "I need you to reach out to her. Bring her to me as soon as possible." She continued, her breathing almost becoming audible with how heavy she's breathing.

Only if a stare could kill, the world would burn before her.

"Tell the boy to handle everything with the company, in and out." She added and I frowned.

"What?" I asked, confused. She stayed silent. "Nat..." I called out.

I waited and waited for response. We stayed stilent for a couple of minutes. The atmosphere is heavy with things I can't name.

"I should've come back—" A small choke stopped her. She faced away from me.

It took me a few seconds before it hit me.

The drunken story she shared when I asked her about the old worn out teddy bear inside her office in the mansion.

The paintings she did with her own hands, plastered on the rich walls of her company's building and inside the mansion.

"Do you know what makes me confused, tho?" Clint asked as we sat on the rooftop of the company, beers in our hands.

"Hmm?" I turned to look at him. "What?" I questioned.

"Natasha didn't seem to put much of a fight—I mean, she did try, you know. She stood up. It's just..." He trailed off, as if finding the right word to put his thoughts on.

"Different?" His gaze snapped towards me, and nodded.

"Yeah, but it's not just that..." We held our gaze for a few seconds, as if digging deeper with our silent thoughts connecting with each other. "It's Natasha we're talking about. You know her, Maria."

"The kid... I mean, the young woman. What's her name again?" I asked.

"Y/n."

"Hmm..." Trailing off, I stared into nothingness. "It's the same one, isn't it?" I asked, and he nodded with finality, looking at me with talking eyes.

"The only one."

"I'm done with this game." She stood up straight, composing herself. "Leave now, I want what I requested before this week ends. Take everything that you need." She finishes with finality.

"What are you gonna do?" I asked, only for my question to be left hanging in the air.

She started walking, leaving me at the balcony.

I could only fear for what's to come to those people.

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3rd Person's POV:

For the nth time, Y/n glanced at the door from where she was sitting on the sofa. It's been hours since she watch the red head walked so fast out of the house, only getting a response from Maria when she called out for Natasha.

"Let her be. Something's... not right with work. She'll come back, don't worry."

But, how can she not worry?

How can she not worry for the person whom showed her...so many things. Made her feel so many things.

It was almost time for dinner, she made sure to cook Natasha's favorite, making sure that the strawberries she left for Natasha are left in the fridge to keep it as fresh as possible when consumed.

She didn't know how long she was staring absentmindedly at the television. How long her heart seemed to be beating its way out of her chest. Soon enough, she heard the most awaited sound of the door opening. The sound of footsteps soon followed, but this time, she could hear it loud and clear—heavy. Not the same one that Natasha would usually and normally do.

"N-Natalia?" She stood up, hesitant to approach the figure.

She looked... stressed, but still beautiful. Her hair is frizzy but still the same one that Y/n seemed to love, her eyes are dark, a void that Y/n couldn't find her reflection into like how it usually does this past couple of weeks and days. She's also... flushed, and it sure as hell not because of the thing you'd get when being complimented on.

"Are you okay?—I cooked dinner." Y/n started, looking into Natasha's half lidded eyes that is boring into hers.

"What are you doing?" Y/n stopped in her tracks at the voice of Natasha. It seemed different. It swayed with every word, it was slurred.

"W-what?" Y/n asked, looking up at her. Then, there was a flash that crossed Natasha's eyes, something that cannot be ignored. "I was just watching— wait...I-I don't understa-" God, how Natasha smelled like liquor.

Y/n almost flinched at the sudden movement. Natasha didn't just hug her. She engulfed her. Huge hand that cradled the back of her head and the small of her back. There, Y/n couldn't think of any place that she felt safe in.

She's never been so... physically close to Natasha. Not like this.

She could feel how well her body is molded with Natasha's. She could feel her hot breath on top of her head, the curved of Natasha's lips and the gentleness that seemed so different. It has weight in it, something she couldn't pinpoint.

"I'm sorry." It was a choked statement. Y/n frowned, feeling the arms that are wrapped around her getting much more tighter each seconds. "I won't—fuck." She heard Natasha whispered. "I'm sorry... forgive me, baby." Y/n tried pushing the red head away, but she was too strong for Y/n's petite body.

"Why—why are you apologizing? What happened, Natalia?" With the given nickname, something that she only let one person call her, Natasha sobbed, pulling away to look at the younger one's face.

As if needing some assurance that she really is here.

In her arms.

Reaching out a hand to cup Y/n's face, she gazed at her so intently, tears flowing freely out of her green eyes, making the growing worry inside Y/n's chest grow. "Why are you crying?! Oh my god, are you hurt? Let me see!" Rambling, Y/n once again tried to check on Natasha, but to no avail, Natasha kept her hold tight.

Even with the tears, Natasha smiled. It was a stretch of her skin—just like the others she wore with Y/n—that felt so real in years.

"I'm fine, angel..." She chuckled throught the tears, caressing Y/n's cheeks still. "You're here, I'm fine." Confusion grew in Y/n's mind, but Natasha continued, even though she, herself, couldn't even comprehend anything that she's saying now. All she knows is she's saying what she's thinking what she's feeling.

"Better than I have ever been in years." With eyes locked into each other, Y/n's heart grew in ways she couldn't understand deeply, but one answer was enough.

It might be new for her, but nothing has been clearer than what she feels for Natasha. The attentiveness she receives everyday, the feeling of being seen, heard and prioritized—something she had never been familiar with all her life, Natasha gave those to her.

Natalia gave everything she never knew that she is deserving of.

"Better than I will ever be." A soft wet kiss on her forehead snapped her out of her trance.

Natasha watched as Y/n looked up with those same innocent doe eyes that she would never admit to herself to have fallen for many years ago. The same one she would thought of before going to sleep at night and the first thing she would remember whenever she wakes up in the morning.

Then, she looked down at the same soft lips that only knew the kindest words to ever exist. The same one where the voice that grounds her comes from. "I will never—" Looking back up to her eyes, she tighten her hold on Y/n, pulling her in more as her hands angled her head to get a better look on her. "I will never let them hurt you ever again..." Tears started brimming up once again.

"I will never leave you again, my angel." Y/n's eyes seemed to imitate Natasha's. She could feel the heaviness of those words, the past coming back. Only did she realize how different it has been ever since she got here.

Natalia never hurt her.

She did scream, but out of worry.

She cared for her. With the same hands that held her many years ago as far as she can remember.

Lucy's right.

Friends do come back.

She sniffled, feeling her own hot tears being wiped away by the calloused hands that held her in ways no one has every done. "I don't like them..." She started, not knowing what to say or how to express what she's feeling.

God, how can a broken child express herself when she was never given the chance to all her life?

"I only like you..." She continued. "I only want to stay here." She said with finality in her tone.

She didn't know if she's saying it for herself or for Natasha. But, the red head smiled, so soft, and that was enough. "T-they're..." Natasha watched intently, analyzing the complicated expression of her girl's face, her thumb automatically caressing the skin where it lays on her cheeks. "You're good." Oh how much Natasha's heart ached.

Good was far from what she is.

From what she was and what she will be.

"You're kind." Y/n added thoughfully, her eyes deep in thought as Natasha watched her with eyes that glints with surprised and... love—something Y/n and Natasha has yet to understand.

Once again, Natasha pulled her in. Holding her with intensity that Y/n could never ignore.

"Nobody's gonna take you away from me, angel. You'll stay here, don't worry."

Shame on their parents for gifting the devil the only thing that could bring her to her knees.

For now, only time will tell everything.

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Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed it! Heheheh, angst here we come!

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha x reader #lhecxzsa

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