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chxnsgirl · 3 days ago

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황현진 & 한지성 ─── pas de trois

♡ pairing ៸៸ ballet dancer!hyunjin x ballet dancer!jisung x afab!reader ៸៸ genre ៸៸ love triangle, ballet academy au ៸៸ cw ៸៸ none really. just jisung pining and hyunjin being a womanizer. ♡ synopsis ៸៸ in the world of ballet, every step is choreographed—but love never follows the script. what happens when you get accepted into the ballet academy of your dreams? a/n ๑ hi hi i decided to make this multiple parts because it's long as FUCK and i couldn't make you guys read over 10k words per part LMAO. ive been working on this for about two weeks and im STILL writing this story. comment below if you want to be apart of the taglist for this series, there will be smut in the next part ;3 ♡ masterlist

it was a day filled with nerves and anticipation.

today marked your first day at lumière ballet company—the most prestigious and renowned company in the country. you, along with fourteen other dancers, had earned a coveted spot to train, undergo rigorous evaluations, and prove your potential for a place in the company.

getting accepted into lumière ballet company had been your dream for as long as you could remember. now, here you were—far from home, chasing that dream with everything you had, determined to turn it into reality.

the only thing that unsettled you was the distance. your parents had always been supportive, but they hadn’t been thrilled about you leaving. they feared for you—not because they doubted your talent, but because they worried about the heartbreak if things didn’t go as planned. they didn’t want to see your dreams shatter before you even had the chance to live them.

you pushed those thoughts aside. after all, here you were—standing in front of the very place you had dreamed of since childhood.

as you struggled with your bags, pulling them out of the taxi, you heard a voice behind you.

“need some help with those?”

assuming it was just some random person, you rolled your eyes, irritation creeping into your tone. “no.” you tugged at your largest bag and turned around, ready to brush off whoever it was.

but your heart skipped a beat when you saw who was standing there. hwang hyunjin, the star dancer of the company. famous for his flawless technique and striking good looks, he stood before you with platinum blonde buzzed hair, plump lips, piercing dark eyes, and glowing, honey-toned skin.

you fumbled for words, a nervous chuckle escaping your lips. “oh, um…” you couldn’t help but take him in, a little starstruck that he was actually standing there, talking to you.

“‘no?’” he smiled, his eyes scanning you briefly.

“i mean… no, thank you.” you hugged your bag to your chest, politely declining his offer. he nodded, his expression unreadable as he took a step back.

“okay,” he said simply before turning and heading toward the company entrance.

you watched him walk away, a dazed, goofy smile spreading across your face.

you were definitely starstruck. you had seen hyunjin on tv and in performances before. he was undeniably talented, and adored by so many. it took you by surprise that he had even spoken to you, let alone offered to help carry your bags to your dorm.

the arrival at your dorm was quick and seamless, and you were relieved to find that your roommates were nice. yeji had been at the company for a while—she practically grew up there, and her seniority made you a little nervous. the other girl, celeste, was beautiful and kind, though you could tell she had a sharp tongue that might get her into trouble.

as you were walking around the dorms, you ran into yeji’s friend, minho. the two exchanged a friendly hug before she introduced you both.

“this is minho, and minho, these are my roommates—y/n and celeste,” yeji said, gesturing to you both.

minho gave a casual wave, leaning on yeji’s shoulder. “nice to meet you. you two new?” his tone made it clear he already knew the answer.

“yep, we are. that obvious?” you chuckled shyly. he laughed, shaking his head.

“maybe just a little. what are you guys up to, walking around the dorms?”

“i was just showing them around,” yeji explained.

“i see. want to play stakeout with me and felix? we’re keeping an eye out for our third roommate. supposedly, he’s coming from across the country,” minho said, nodding toward his dorm.

yeji looked to you and celeste for approval, waiting for your responses before agreeing.

“sure, we’ll hang for a little,” yeji smiled.

you spent the afternoon lounging around, getting to know minho and felix. the conversation flowed easily, filled with lighthearted jokes and stories. you learned that minho had been at the company for about four years—a fact that surprised you, given how effortlessly he carried himself. felix, on the other hand, was just as new as you and celeste, which brought you a sense of comfort. it was nice knowing you weren’t the only one still finding your footing.

the five of you were sprawled across minho and felix’s beds, laughing and sharing stories, when the sound of the door clicking open caught your attention.

in walked a stunningly handsome guy with clear, glowing skin and tousled dark brown hair that framed his sharp jawline. his cheeks had the slightest hint of roundness, giving him a boyish charm, but it was his eyes that truly struck you—warm, expressive, and impossibly friendly. he took in the unfamiliar faces before him, offering a small, hesitant smile as he waved.

“uh… am i in the right room?” he asked, shutting the door behind him and tugging out his dorm papers.

“you’re jisung?” minho spoke up, looking him over. you could’ve sworn there was a hint of pink dusting his cheeks.

“yeah, jisung.” he smiled warmly before setting his bags down next to the empty bed in the corner.

for a moment, minho didn’t respond, as if he had momentarily lost the ability to speak.

“um, i’m felix,” felix stepped in, standing up to shake jisung’s hand. “nice to meet you. that’s minho.” he motioned vaguely toward minho, who managed a small wave.

“nice to meet you too,” jisung replied with a grin, shrugging his duffel bag off his shoulder.

yeji stood up next, introducing herself, and celeste followed. finally, you extended your hand. “i’m y/n,” you said, offering a friendly smile.

jisung’s eyes flickered toward yours, his gaze lingering just a second longer than expected before his lips curled into a soft smile. “nice to meet you.”

“you too.” you hesitated before adding, “minho mentioned you’re coming from across the country?”

“yeah,” jisung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i flew in from la. my girlfriend dumped me for leaving her there.” his expression faltered slightly, the disappointment evident in his tone.

from the corner of your eye, you noticed minho let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, subtly relaxing against the bed once more.

felix let out a low whistle. “oof, rough. long-distance is tough, huh?”

jisung shrugged, forcing a small smile. “guess she didn’t think it was worth it. but, honestly, i can’t blame her. i left pretty suddenly when i got accepted here.”

yeji tilted her head. “how did you hear about lumière? i mean, it’s the top ballet company in the country, but la has some incredible programs too.”

jisung sat down on his bed, leaning back on his hands. “i’ve known about lumière since i was a kid. my old instructor used to talk about it all the time—said it was the kind of place that could turn a good dancer into a great one. so, when i saw the audition announcement, i figured i had to at least try.” he glanced around the room. “still can’t believe i actually made it.”

you nodded in understanding. “i know the feeling. this place always felt like an impossible dream, and now we’re actually here.”

minho, finally finding his voice again, smirked. “impossible dream or not, don’t think they’re going to go easy on you. lumière’s training program is brutal. if you survive it, you’ve got a shot at a contract, but only a few of us will actually get hired.”

jisung raised an eyebrow. “only a few?”

yeji sighed, crossing her arms. “yeah. it’s tough. there are fifteen of us in the program, but in the end, they only offer jobs to about five or six. maybe less, depending on the company’s needs.”

celeste groaned, flopping onto felix’s bed. “ugh, way to kill the excitement. let us enjoy the moment before we start panicking.”

felix laughed. “she’s right. we just got here, let’s not stress yet.”

jisung chuckled, shaking his head. “nah, i’d rather know what i’m up against. so, any advice? what’s the secret to surviving lumière?”

minho exchanged a knowing look with yeji before shrugging. “work hard, don’t mess around, and for the love of everything, don’t get on the instructors’ bad side.”

felix raised a playful brow. “sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

minho smirked. “let’s just say… they don’t forget easily.”

you laughed along with the group, but deep down, you felt the weight of their words. this wasn’t just a school—it was a proving ground. and if you wanted to stay, you’d have to give it everything you had.

the next morning, your alarm blared before the sun had fully risen, jolting you awake. a mix of nerves and excitement swirled in your stomach as you hurried to get ready, slipping into your leotard and tights before pulling your hair into a neat bun. this was it—your first official day at lumière ballet company.

by the time you arrived at the studio, the air was buzzing with hushed conversations and the occasional nervous laugh. the room was vast, lined with mirrors and ballet barres, the polished floors gleaming under the bright lights. the other dancers were already stretching, their movements graceful even in casual warm-ups.

you spotted celeste and jisung near the back, exchanging a few words before he playfully nudged her, making her roll her eyes. yeji and minho were at the front, both exuding an effortless confidence that only came with experience.

you found a spot near the middle, smoothing out your leotard as you took a deep breath. just as you were about to start warming up, the studio doors swung open. the room instantly fell silent.

a group of instructors filed in, their sharp eyes scanning the room with quiet intensity. among them, a tall, distinguished man with graying hair stepped forward. his presence alone commanded respect, and you immediately recognized him—emile laurent, the head of lumière.

but he wasn’t the only notable figure in the room. behind the instructors, a small group of dancers followed, each one standing with an air of effortless poise. among them, your gaze caught on a familiar figure—hyunjin.

he was even more striking up close, his platinum blonde hair glowed under the lights, his black warm-up attire accentuated his lean, sculpted frame. you swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of his presence.

émile cleared his throat, and all attention snapped back to him.

“welcome,” he began, his voice deep and steady. “you stand here today because you have proven yourselves among the most talented young dancers in the country. but talent alone will not secure your place here. over the next several months, you will be tested—physically, mentally, and artistically. some of you will thrive. some of you will falter.” his sharp gaze swept across the room. “only a select few will earn a permanent position within this company.”

the weight of his words settled over the group like a heavy blanket. you tried not to let it shake you, but your fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of your tights.

“as you train, you will work with our esteemed instructors, as well as the company’s leading dancers.” émile gestured behind him, and that was when hyunjin stepped forward alongside the others. “these artists represent the highest standard of excellence. watch them. learn from them. and, if you are lucky, perhaps one day, you will dance beside them.”

a murmur rippled through the room, dancers exchanging glances of awe and quiet determination. you were no different—your gaze flickered toward hyunjin once again, and to your surprise, he was already looking at you.

your breath hitched.

it was brief, just a moment—his dark eyes meeting yours before a small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. he tilted his head ever so slightly, as if amused by your reaction.

you quickly looked away, heat creeping up your neck.

“your training begins now,” émile’s voice snapped your attention back. “we will push you. and if you survive, you may just earn the right to call yourselves dancers of lumière.” murmurs began to be heard, but before you could break to hide in your thoughts, he spoke up again.

“one more thing, we have the company gala next week, we invite our advanced students, such as yourselves, to attend the performance and help with the party afterwards. i expect to see you all there.”

with that, the instructors began splitting the group up, but your thoughts remained elsewhere.

“i hope he didn’t think that was inspirational,” you heard a voice behind you.

you turned, seeing jisung leaning against a barre, arms crossed over his chest with an amused glint in his eyes.

you let out a breathy chuckle, still trying to shake off the weight of émile’s speech. “yeah, if the goal was to make us all fear for our lives, then mission accomplished.”

he smirked, pushing off the barre and stretching his arms over his head. “honestly, i think that’s the point. they want to weed out the ones who can’t handle the pressure.” he glanced around the room, where some dancers were already practicing their footwork, while others whispered amongst themselves, their nerves palpable. “some people thrive under that kind of intensity. others…” he trailed off, watching a girl in the corner shakily adjusting her pointe shoes.

you hummed in agreement, then glanced at him. “and what about you? are you one of those people who thrive?”

jisung shrugged, a lazy smile playing at his lips. “i guess we’ll find out.”

his confidence was subtle—not the overbearing, showy kind, but the kind that felt steady, reassuring. there was something about the way he carried himself that made you feel at ease, as if no matter how difficult things got, he would take it in stride.

you exhaled, shaking your head. “i get that they want to push us, but still… i was kind of hoping for at least one encouraging word.”

he chuckled. “guess you’ll have to settle for me.”

you turned to him with a teasing smile. “oh? and what words of wisdom do you have to offer?”

he pretended to think, lips pursing in exaggerated contemplation. “how about… ‘don’t pass out on your first day’?”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “wow. so profound.”

“i try,” he said with a grin, nudging you lightly with his elbow.

you gradually became acquainted with a few other girls in the class, aside from celeste and yeji. yeji, being well-connected within the company, had a couple of close friends she primarily stuck with—yuqi and lia, both senior dancers who carried themselves with the kind of effortless confidence that came from years of experience. it didn’t take long to realize that they seemed to know everything about everyone, from which instructors were the toughest to which dancers were secretly dating.

sensing an opportunity to learn the ins and outs of the company, you made an effort to spend more time around them. their presence, along with celeste’s, gave you a sense of comfort amid the overwhelming newness of it all.

with their guidance, you managed to survive your first class. the session focused mainly on warm-ups and refining positioning, easing you into the company’s expectations without immediately throwing you into the deep end. you concentrated on every movement, working to ensure your form was correct, and though you were nervous at first, it quickly became second nature.

oddly enough, time seemed to slip away faster than you anticipated. what started as a nerve-wracking first class soon became a blur of controlled movements, stretching, and quiet concentration. by the time the session ended, you were left feeling relieved.

as class ended, you fell into step with the girls, chatting idly as you made your way toward the commons. the conversation quickly turned into playful gossip about various company scandals—who was secretly dating whom, which instructors were the toughest, and who had mysteriously dropped out of the program.

it wasn’t until yuqi casually mentioned a name that you had already become all too familiar with that the conversation took a more intriguing turn.

“did you see hyunjin’s back from korea?” yuqi asked, slinging her bag off her shoulder before settling onto one of the couches.

your ears instantly perked up. you and the rest of the group followed suit, finding seats around her, the air buzzing with curiosity.

“i’m surprised he’s back so soon, considering what happened,” yeji added with a knowing grin, the kind that suggested she was sitting on a particularly juicy piece of information.

“what happened?” celeste beat you to the question just as you were about to ask yourself.

yeji leaned in slightly, lowering her voice as if afraid someone else might overhear. “right before the end of last year, hyunjin got dumped by madeline picard—one of the best dancers this company has ever seen.” she let the name linger, watching for your reaction.

your brows furrowed. madeline picard. the name sounded vaguely familiar, but before you could dwell on it, yuqi picked up where yeji left off.

“yeah, and apparently, it wasn’t just a normal breakup. he totally lost it—had a complete meltdown and accused her of cheating because she ended things so suddenly.”

you blinked, surprised. hyunjin didn’t exactly seem like the type to be dramatic over a breakup.

lia, who had been mostly quiet until now, tilted her head, her expression amused. “i heard all he did in korea was go clubbing and hook up with every girl he came across.” she raised a brow as if challenging anyone to refute her claim.

your stomach twisted slightly. you weren’t sure why. maybe it was because you had only just met hyunjin, and already, there was so much weight behind his name. or maybe it was the idea that, beneath his striking looks and undeniable talent, there was something messy lurking underneath.

"apparently, he hasn’t spoken to anyone from last year," yeji added, her tone dripping with intrigue.

"he talked to me."

the words slipped out before you could stop them, and the moment they did, regret settled in your stomach like a rock. instantly, all eyes snapped to you, a mixture of disbelief and curiosity flashing across their faces.

"what?" yeji practically narrowed her eyes at you, a sharp, almost jealous glint in her gaze.

"wait, hold on," yuqi leaned forward, gripping the edge of the couch. "you actually spoke to hyunjin? when?"

you swallowed, suddenly feeling very small under their intense stares. "it was nothing," you said quickly, waving a dismissive hand. "i mean… he just offered to help me with my bags yesterday."

silence. then—

"you’re telling me," lia started slowly, eyeing you with suspicion, "that he randomly decided to help you with your luggage?"

"it wasn’t like that," you rushed to explain. "i didn’t even recognize him at first. i thought he was some weird guy bothering me, so i kind of snapped at him."

yuqi gasped dramatically. "you snapped at hyunjin?"

"well, yeah, but i didn’t know it was him!" you defended.

celeste let out a low whistle, shaking her head in amusement. "wow. bold of you."

yeji folded her arms, tapping a manicured finger against her elbow. "and what did he say after you oh-so-graciously rejected his help?"

you hesitated, recalling the way his dark eyes had flickered with something unreadable when you told him no. how he had looked you over before flashing a knowing grin.

"he just smiled and walked away," you admitted, shifting uncomfortably under their scrutinizing gazes.

another round of silence followed.

then, to your utter shock, lia smirked. "oh, he’s interested."

your eyes widened. "what? no, he’s not! it was just a random encounter—"

"please," yuqi scoffed. "hyunjin doesn’t go out of his way for just anyone. and you’re new, so it’s not like he has some pre-existing friendship with you."

"yeah," celeste chimed in, grinning. "sounds like someone caught the star dancer’s attention."

you groaned, covering your face with your hands. "you guys are seriously overthinking this."

"are we?" yeji quirked a brow. "or are you underthinking it?"

you shook your head, but the butterflies in your stomach told you otherwise.

as the weeks passed, the reality of your position at lumière ballet company began to settle in. you quickly realized that, compared to many of the other dancers, you had a lot of ground to cover. your turnout wasn’t as refined, your footwork wasn’t as naturally strong, and the effortless grace that others seemed to possess still felt just out of your reach. every class was a reminder of how much work lay ahead of you.

celeste was a constant source of encouragement, always quick to remind you that progress takes time, but even her reassurances couldn’t stop the nagging doubt from creeping in. what if it wasn’t enough? what if, no matter how hard you pushed yourself, your technique still paled in comparison to the others? the thought of being cut prematurely haunted you, lingering in the back of your mind like a storm cloud threatening to break.

but it wasn’t until you were unexpectedly called to the headmaster’s office that true fear gripped you. your heart pounded as you made your way through the halls, every step feeling heavier than the last. was this it? had they already decided that you weren’t good enough? the possibility loomed over you, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

as you reached the emile’s office, you hesitated for a brief moment before gathering the courage to knock.

“come in,” a voice called from the other side.

taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. the office was grand yet intimidating, with towering bookshelves filled with ballet history, framed photos of past company stars, and the sharp scent of polished wood lingering in the air. seated behind an ornate mahogany desk was emile, a man whose presence commanded respect. across from him sat miss cassandra, your primary instructor, her sharp eyes scanning you the moment you entered.

“take a seat,” he instructed, motioning to the chair across from him.

your heart pounded as you settled into the seat, your palms pressing nervously against your skirt. miss cassandra crossed her legs, folding her hands in her lap as the headmaster leaned forward, scrutinizing you for a moment before finally speaking.

“you’ve been here for a few weeks now,” he began, his tone calm but firm. “and i imagine you’ve realized just how competitive this company is.”

you swallowed, nodding.

“the reality is, ballet is as much about physicality as it is about artistry. this company—this industry—demands precision, discipline, and most importantly, the right body for it,” he continued. “your lines, your turnout, the way your feet work—it all matters. you have potential, but potential alone doesn’t earn you a place here.”

miss cassandra finally spoke, her voice carrying the same sharpness you were used to hearing in class. “you’re a hard worker, and that’s good. but hard work only goes so far when your technique isn’t where it needs to be. your turnout is lacking, and without proper turnout, your movements will never have the seamless quality we expect here.”

you gripped your hands together, your stomach twisting uncomfortably.

“the workshop performance is approaching,” the headmaster reminded you. “that performance will determine whether or not you earn your spot in the company. if you don’t show significant improvement by then, i’m afraid you won’t be able to continue training here.”

the words struck you like a blow, knocking the air from your lungs. you had known this company was difficult, but hearing those words so plainly was different—it was a direct challenge, a warning that time was running out.

“we aren’t saying this to discourage you,” miss cassandra said, her gaze piercing. “we’re telling you this so you understand the reality of what’s at stake. you have work to do, and not much time to do it.”

emile nodded. “if you truly want this, you need to prove it. show us that you belong here.”

you felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on you, but beneath the fear, there was determination. you had fought too hard to get here—leaving wasn’t an option.

“i understand,” you said quietly, but with conviction.

miss cassandra studied you for a moment before nodding. “good. then i suggest you start working twice as hard, because the clock is ticking.”

with that, the meeting was over. you stood, offering a polite nod before turning toward the door. as you stepped into the hallway, the reality of the situation fully set in. you had only a few weeks to prove yourself.

back at the dorm, you sat on the edge of your bed, your hands clasped together in your lap as you tried to process everything. the headmaster’s words played over and over in your mind, intertwining with miss cassandra’s sharp critiques. the weight of it all felt suffocating.

celeste sat beside you, her arm draped around your shoulders in a comforting squeeze. “hey, don’t let it get to you too much,” she said softly. “you’re working hard. that has to count for something.”

you let out a shaky breath. “i don’t know if it’s enough.”

celeste frowned, nudging you gently. “of course it’s enough. you’re not some talentless beginner. you got accepted here for a reason. if they didn’t see potential, you wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

you wanted to believe her, but emile’s warning still rang in your ears. potential isn’t enough.

before you could respond, the door to the dorm swung open, and yeji walked in, dropping her bag onto the floor with a thud. she glanced at the two of you before cocking her head. “what’s with the sad puppy look?”

celeste shot her a look. “she just had a talk with the headmaster.”

yeji raised a brow. “oh?” she tossed her shoes off and sat on her bed, crossing her legs. “let me guess. he told you your technique isn’t good enough?”

your silence was enough.

yeji sighed, shrugging as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. “well… he’s right.”

celeste stiffened beside you. “yeji.”

“what?” yeji leaned back against her pillows. “i’m just saying. this isn’t some feel-good ballet academy. if you can’t keep up, you get cut. that’s how it works.”

your stomach twisted at her bluntness. you knew she wasn’t saying it to be outright cruel—it was just how she was. but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.

celeste shot up from the bed, glaring at yeji. “she knows that. she doesn’t need you rubbing it in.”

yeji rolled her eyes. “i’m not rubbing it in. i’m just being realistic.”

you exhaled, rubbing your temples. “she’s not wrong.”

celeste groaned, turning back to you. “no, don’t listen to her. you can do this. you just have to work harder, and i’ll help you however i can, okay?”

you nodded, offering her a small smile of appreciation.

yeji sighed dramatically, swinging her legs onto the bed. “i’m just saying, you should get used to criticism. if you can’t handle a little tough love, you won’t last here.”

celeste threw a pillow at her. “your love is just tough. there’s no love in it.”

yeji smirked, catching the pillow with ease. “fine. then consider it free advice.”

celeste huffed, plopping back down onto your bed with a determined look on her face. “alright, enough of this depressing mood. we need a distraction.”

you blinked at her, confused. “a distraction?”

she nodded, a mischievous grin forming. “yes. you, my dear, need a break. and i have just the thing—clubbing.”

your eyes widened. “clubbing?”

“clubbing,” she confirmed, already pulling out her phone. “we’re getting dressed up, going out, and having fun. you’ve been working your ass off, and it’s time to let loose for one night.”

yeji scoffed from her bed, stretching her arms over her head. “you? at a club?” she eyed you skeptically. “are you even the type?”

celeste shot her a glare. “of course she is. she just doesn’t know it yet.” then, without waiting for a response, she started texting. “i’m messaging minho, jisung, yuqi, and felix. we’re making a night of it.”

you groaned, already feeling exhausted at the thought. “celeste, i don’t know—”

“nope! no excuses.” she stood, hands on her hips. “you’re stressed, you’re overworked, and you’re doubting yourself. what you need is a night of dancing, drinks, and good music. trust me.”

yeji smirked. “i’ll go.”

“of course you will,” celeste muttered before turning back to you. “come on, y/n. when’s the last time you did something fun?”

you hesitated. you weren’t exactly the clubbing type, and the thought of being in a crowded place with loud music and flashing lights wasn’t something you typically sought out. but… maybe celeste had a point.

you had been completely consumed by ballet. the stress of proving yourself was weighing heavier by the day, and if you didn’t let loose even a little, you might actually implode.

“…fine,” you finally relented with a sigh.

celeste cheered, throwing her arms around you. “yes! i knew you’d come around.”

yeji chuckled, shaking her head. “this should be interesting.”

celeste turned back to her phone, quickly typing away. “minho says he’s in. jisung too. yuqi and felix are coming, so that means we officially have a squad.”

you bit your lip, nerves bubbling in your chest. what had you just agreed to?

celeste clasped her hands together. “alright, girls. let’s get ready. y/n, you’re gonna look so good, no man will be able to take his eyes off you.”

when you walked up to the club with celeste, yeji, and yuqi, jisung’s eyes lit up. it was almost as if he was in awe of you. of course, you didn’t notice, still too hung up on what the headmaster said to you that afternoon.

jisung’s eyes roamed over you as you approached, his lips parting slightly as if he had something to say but couldn’t quite find the words. you looked different tonight—more than just dressed up. there was something about you that drew his attention like a magnet, something that made his chest feel a little tighter.

"you look..." he started, pausing as if searching for the right word. "wow."

you blinked, momentarily pulled from your thoughts. "huh?"

jisung let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "you look beautiful, y/n." his voice was softer now, almost hesitant.

you stared at him for a moment, then scoffed lightly, shaking your head. "yeah, right."

his brows furrowed. "i'm serious."

you offered him a small, polite smile. "thanks, jisung," you said, even though you didn’t quite believe him. it was a sweet thing to say, but after the afternoon you had, it was hard to see yourself as anything other than inadequate.

jisung frowned slightly, as if he could sense exactly what you were thinking. but before he could say anything more, minho clapped a hand on his shoulder. "are we going in or what?"

jisung gave you one last glance before nodding. "yeah. let’s go."

as the group made their way into the club, jisung couldn’t help but wonder why you brushed off his compliment so easily. and why, no matter how many people were around you, you still looked like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders.

once you all stepped inside, the pulsing bass of the music vibrated through your chest, the dim, colorful lights casting a glow over the crowded dance floor. the group pooled their money together for a table near the edge of the club, a spot just far enough from the speakers to talk but still close enough to feel the infectious energy of the room.

drinks were passed around, laughter filled the air, and everyone seemed to be letting loose—everyone except you. no matter how much you tried to shake it off, the nagging weight of earlier conversations pressed heavily on your mind, dragging you down. you sat there, absently swirling the liquid in your glass, your gaze unfocused as your thoughts spiraled.

that was when jisung carefully reached over, plucking the drink from your fingers and setting it down on the table.

blinking, you turned to look at him, confusion flickering across your face. “what are you doing?”

his fingers wrapped gently around your hand, giving it a light tug as a playful smile tugged at his lips. "you didn’t get all dressed up just to sit here and overthink, did you?"

you opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, he nodded toward the dance floor, where bodies moved fluidly under the flashing lights. “come on,” he urged, his voice warm and inviting.

for a second, you hesitated. but the way jisung looked at you—like he wanted nothing more than to pull you away from whatever storm was brewing in your mind—made it hard to say no.

you hesitated for a moment, glancing between jisung and the crowded dance floor. the pulsing music, the flashing lights, the bodies moving in sync—it was all so overwhelming. but then you looked at him. his eyes held no pressure, only warmth, only the unspoken promise that he was there, that he wanted you to have fun.

with a breath, you gave in. “okay,” you said softly.

a grin broke across jisung’s face as he gently led you onto the floor, weaving through the crowd until you found a space of your own. the rhythm of the music pulsed around you, a beat so infectious that it was impossible not to move. you started off slow, still a little unsure, your body stiff with lingering stress.

but jisung was different. he wasn’t stiff, not even a little. he moved with an effortless ease, his body in tune with the music like he was born for it. and as he danced beside you, he encouraged you with little smiles, playful nods, the way he subtly matched your movements to make it feel less like you were dancing alone.

“see?” he leaned in, his voice low but audible over the music. “not so bad, right?”

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “i guess not.”

the tension in your shoulders began to melt away as the music took over, and for the first time that night, you felt lighter. jisung noticed it too—the way your movements became freer, how your laughter slipped out more easily. and god, did he think you were beautiful like this.

the flashing club lights illuminated your features in shifting shades of blue, purple, and red. your hair framed your face just right, your eyes shining even in the dim light. jisung had always thought you were beautiful, but here, seeing you loosen up, seeing you smile after looking so down all evening, it made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

you twirled, laughing as the movement made you stumble slightly, and instinctively, jisung’s hands found your waist, steadying you before you could lose your balance. it was just for a second, but when you looked up at him, your faces only inches apart, he felt his breath catch.

his hands lingered just a little longer than necessary before he cleared his throat, stepping back with a grin, though his heart was racing. “careful,” he teased. “don’t go falling for me now.”

you rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “as if.”

but the way jisung looked at you in that moment, his gaze lingering, his playful smirk softening into something fonder—if only you knew just how much he already had fallen.

after what felt like an eternity of dancing—your body light with adrenaline, the weight of the past weeks momentarily forgotten—jisung finally pulled away with a breathless grin. “alright, alright,” he laughed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “even i need a break.”

you chuckled, nodding in agreement. “yeah, i could use a drink.”

together, you weaved through the throng of people toward the bar, where the neon glow cast everything in shades of blue and purple. jisung leaned against the counter, signaling to the bartender while you stood beside him, catching your breath. your skin was still warm from dancing, your heart racing—not just from the exertion, but from the lingering feeling of jisung’s hands on your waist, the way he had looked at you under the flashing lights.

you exhaled deeply, shaking the thoughts away as the bartender slid two drinks across the counter. you reached for yours absentmindedly, lifting it to your lips—

“didn’t expect to see you here.”

you froze, your fingers tightening around your glass. you knew that voice. slowly, you turned your head, and there he was.

hyunjin.

up close, the dim club lighting softened the sharp angles of his face, but his presence was just as striking as ever. his platinum hair fell slightly into his dark eyes, which were locked onto you with an intensity that made your heart stutter. he smelled faintly of expensive cologne and alcohol, the scent mingling with the warmth of the crowded club.

you swallowed, willing your expression to stay neutral. “didn’t expect to see you either,” you replied, keeping your voice even.

hyunjin tilted his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “didn’t take you for the clubbing type.” his eyes flickered over you, taking in the way your dress hugged your figure, how different you looked outside of the company’s strict ballet attire.

you raised a brow. “and what type did you take me for?”

he chuckled, resting his elbow on the bar beside you, leaning in just slightly. “hardworking. serious. someone who wouldn’t waste time on things like this.”

you scoffed, crossing your arms. “so i can’t let loose once in a while?”

“i didn’t say that.” he lifted his drink to his lips, taking a slow sip before continuing. “it’s just… surprising.”

you chuckled and shook your head. “do you even know my name?” you raised a brow as you looked up at him. he looked down at you, that smirk never leaving his stupidly gorgeous face.

“y/n l/n.” he smiled. “how could i forget a face like yours?”

something about the way he said it sent an odd thrill through you. it wasn’t just his words—it was the way he was looking at you.

before you could come up with a response, another voice cut in.

“everything alright here?”

you turned to see jisung standing beside you, his gaze flicking between you and hyunjin. his usual warmth was still there, but there was something else too—a quiet protectiveness, a subtle tension in the way he held himself.

hyunjin looked at jisung, then back at you, his smirk widening slightly, as if he understood something neither of you had said out loud. he straightened, stepping back slightly. “didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said smoothly, though the glint in his eyes told you he had done exactly that.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “we were just talking.”

“of course,” hyunjin mused, swirling the ice in his glass. then, with one last glance at you—one that lingered a second too long—he gave a small nod. “enjoy your night, y/n l/n.”

and just like that, he was gone, disappearing back into the crowd, leaving behind the scent of cologne and the faintest trace of something else.

jisung watched hyunjin disappear into the crowd, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. he turned back to you, studying your face—the way your eyes lingered on the spot hyunjin had stood, the way your fingers still gripped your drink a little too tightly.

“you okay?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

you nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. “yeah.”

jisung let out a breath, forcing a small chuckle. “you know… for someone who just met him, you sure look at him like he hung the stars.”

your eyes snapped to his, caught off guard by the edge in his voice. it wasn’t anger—not exactly. but there was something there, something deeper than his usual lightheartedness.

you shifted on your feet, suddenly feeling exposed. “i don’t—” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “it’s not like that.”

jisung gave you a look, one that told you he wasn’t buying it. “isn’t it?”

you swallowed, trying to find the right words, but none came. because deep down, you knew there was truth in what he was saying. there was something about hyunjin—his presence, his reputation, the effortless way he pulled you in. it was exciting. addictive, even.

jisung sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “look, i’m not trying to ruin your night.” his voice was softer now, but there was a weight behind it. “i just…” he hesitated, then forced a small smile. “never mind.”

“no, what?” you frowned, stepping closer. “tell me.”

jisung studied you for a moment, then shook his head with a chuckle that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “nothing. just… be careful with him, okay?”

you wanted to ask why. wanted to pry into whatever was making his expression so guarded. but before you could, celeste appeared beside you, draping an arm over your shoulder.

“there you are! come on, we bought another round.”

you glanced back at jisung, but he had already taken a step away, masking whatever he was feeling with his usual easygoing grin.

“yeah,” you murmured, forcing yourself to focus back on the present. “let’s go.”

but even as celeste dragged you toward the bar, you couldn’t shake the feeling that jisung’s words weren’t just a warning.

they were a plea.

the air in the studio was thick with tension, the usual routine of class disrupted by the presence of an audience. against the far wall, the company’s most renowned dancers, including hyunjin, sat in a neat line alongside the instructors and the director himself, their watchful eyes scanning the room as they whispered amongst themselves.

it had been a few months since your first day at lumière, and you’d finally begun to settle into the rigorous schedule, but today’s class wasn’t just another routine. today, they were scouting for dancers to be featured in the upcoming workshop—a performance that could solidify your place at the company.

your heart pounded as you stepped up to the barre, standing between celeste and yeji. yeji, always composed, adjusted her arm with practiced ease, while celeste rolled her shoulders back, flashing you a reassuring glance. “relax,” she mouthed.

you tried. you really did. but when the pianist began to play, signaling the start of class, your limbs felt stiffer than usual.

the warm-up passed in a blur of tendus and pliés, and as the class progressed, the instructors led everyone to the center for adagios and pirouettes. it was there, under the relentless scrutiny of the panel, that your nerves truly took hold.

“focus on turnout,” miss cassandra’s voice rang out as she walked the floor, correcting postures with a tap of her stick. “shoulders down, breath through the movement.”

you moved into your développé, willing yourself to remain poised, but as you extended your leg, you felt the slightest tremor in your ankle. it wasn’t much, but you knew the observers were trained to notice every detail.

beside you, yeji moved with the elegance of someone who had spent her entire life training for this moment. she was fluid, controlled, every movement effortless. it was no surprise—she was practically a shoo-in for the workshop.

celeste, meanwhile, danced with raw passion. even if her technique wasn’t as pristine, her expressiveness more than made up for it. you could tell she was determined to stand out today.

then there was jisung. though he was newer to classical ballet, he moved with an ease that made it seem as if he had been doing it all his life. his jumps were strong, and his turns were quick yet smooth, full of a quiet confidence that was captivating.

when it was time for pirouettes, you swallowed hard. you weren’t bad at them, but they weren’t your strongest skill either. you tried to keep your focus on the movement, on your breath, on the control of your core—but the moment you spotted hyunjin watching you from across the room, your rhythm faltered.

you stumbled slightly on your third rotation, stepping out of the turn to catch yourself.

you heard a quiet hum of disapproval from the instructors’ side. heat rushed to your face, but you kept going, forcing yourself to push through.

out of the corner of your eye, you saw hyunjin tilt his head, an unreadable expression on his face. he leaned in slightly as if saying something to the dancer beside him, and for a split second, your stomach twisted with uncertainty. was he talking about you?

before you could dwell on it, the instructor clapped her hands. “next group.”

you exhaled sharply and stepped back, catching jisung’s glance as you did. he gave you a small, encouraging smile, one that you tried to return despite the weight in your chest.

the class continued with across-the-floor exercises, and though you did your best, you couldn’t shake the feeling that today had not been your strongest performance.

as the final reverence came to a close, the director finally stepped forward.

“thank you all,” he said, his hands clasped behind his back. his voice was calm, measured, but held a weight that made your stomach churn. “we’ve been observing closely, and over the next few days, we will be making our selections for the workshop.” his sharp eyes swept the room. “work hard. your future here depends on it.”

with that, he turned and left, the rest of the observers trailing behind him.

hyunjin was the last to go.

as he stepped out, his gaze flickered toward you once more.

you had only meant to make a quick stop at the drugstore, picking up a few necessities—shampoo, toothpaste, maybe even a face mask to treat yourself after the grueling week of training. but as you browsed the shelves, a familiar figure caught your eye from the corner of the aisle.

at first, you froze, your mind scrambling to process whether or not you were seeing things. maybe it was just someone who looked like him—platinum blond hair wasn’t exactly common, but it wasn’t impossible. still, curiosity got the best of you.

gripping your shopping basket a little tighter, you stepped out of the aisle and glanced in the direction he had gone. the moment your eyes landed on him, any doubt vanished. it was hyunjin.

he was standing by the skincare section, intently reading the label of a serum bottle, his sharp features relaxed in concentration.

without giving yourself time to overthink it, you strode toward him, adopting a casual air as you stopped beside him. “i’m starting to think you’re stalking me,” you quipped, a teasing grin tugging at your lips as you pretended to inspect the same shelf he was browsing.

hyunjin turned his head slightly, his lips curling into a smirk as he met your gaze. “oh?” he mused, raising a brow. “and here i thought you were stalking me.”

you scoffed, picking up a random moisturizer just to keep your hands busy. “i was here first.”

“so you say.” he let out a soft chuckle before setting the serum back on the shelf, shoving a hand into the pockets of his hoodie. “didn’t expect to see you outside the studio. you look different compared to how i saw you the other day.”

you blinked at him, momentarily thrown off. “different how?”

hyunjin tilted his head, scanning you briefly. “less serious. less…” he trailed off, searching for the word before finally settling on, “stressed.”

you let out a small laugh, though the statement made something twist in your chest. “guess that means i should work on my poker face.”

his smirk lingered as he leaned a bit closer, voice dropping slightly. “or maybe you should learn to loosen up.”

your breath hitched at the proximity, but you quickly masked it, rolling your eyes instead. “says the guy who takes himself so seriously he can’t even enjoy a simple trip to the drugstore.” you gestured toward the products in front of him. “what are you even looking for?”

“face cleanser,” he said, picking up a bottle. “ran out.”

you feigned interest, tilting your head as you examined it. “is that the secret to looking like a prince on stage?”

hyunjin scoffed, shaking his head. “it’s just face wash.”

“sure it is,” you teased, placing the moisturizer back on the shelf. “next you’re gonna tell me you don’t have some ten-step skincare routine.”

he chuckled, running a hand against his hair. “maybe i do. gotta keep up appearances, right?”

you found yourself smiling, the usual nerves you felt around him easing just a little.

for a moment, the conversation settled into a comfortable pause. then, with a glance at your basket, hyunjin nodded toward it. “what about you? shopping spree?”

you scoffed. “hardly. just grabbing some things i ran out of.”

“hm.” he tapped his fingers against the edge of the shelf, studying you for a moment before flashing a lopsided grin. “well, don’t let me keep you from your very important purchases.”

you rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “yeah, wouldn’t want to get in the way of your skincare journey, either.”

just as you were about to turn away, hyunjin’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“hey.”

you glanced back at him, heart inexplicably picking up speed as he casually dropped a bottle of cleanser into his basket.

“have you had dinner yet?” he asked, his voice smooth yet unreadable. he took a slow step toward you, his head tilting slightly as he studied your reaction.

you froze, caught completely off guard. your fingers instinctively tightened around the handle of your basket. “um… no. not yet, anyway.” the words tumbled from your lips, slightly uneven.

hyunjin’s mouth twitched in amusement, clearly noticing your sudden shift in demeanor. “then let’s eat something,” he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

your brows lifted slightly. “what, like… together?”

he let out a breath of laughter, shaking his head. “no, separately. at the same place. sitting at different tables.”

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the tiny smile forming at the corners of your lips. “alright, smartass. i just wasn’t expecting you to—” you paused, suddenly hesitant. was this… a date? or was he just being friendly?

“wasn’t expecting me to what?” hyunjin prompted, watching you with an unreadable expression.

you shifted on your feet. “to, i don’t know, invite me to dinner?”

his smirk softened, and he shrugged. “why not? i’m hungry, you’re hungry. might as well eat together. better yet, how about we go to my place?”

it was such a simple reason. no deeper meaning, no hidden intentions—at least, none that you could decipher. and yet, something about the idea of sharing a meal with hyunjin made your stomach flip in a way you weren’t sure how to handle.

“okay,” you said before you could overthink it. “yeah. sure.”

hyunjin grinned, satisfied. “good.” he glanced down at your basket. “you done shopping?”

you nodded, and together, the two of you made your way toward the checkout counter.

as you stood in line, you stole a quick glance at him. this was the most time you had spent with him outside of class, and despite your initial nerves, it felt… natural. easy, even.

little did you know, jisung had texted you while you were shopping. and when you didn’t answer, he’d decided to call.

just as you placed your items on the counter, your phone buzzed in your pocket, you pulled it out, seeing the screen light up with a familiar name. jisung.

you hesitated, glancing at hyunjin, who was now placing his own items on the counter.

as the phone buzzed in your hand, you hesitated for a second before pulling it out and answering.

"hey, jisung," you said, trying to sound casual as you stepped slightly away from hyunjin.

"hey! i was just wondering if you wanted to grab some food or something? you kinda disappeared after class, and i figured you could use a break." his voice was as warm as ever, that familiar lilt making you feel at ease.

you chewed on your lip, glancing at hyunjin, who was busy paying for his things. “oh, um… i actually just made plans to eat.”

“with who?” jisung asked lightly, but you could hear the slight shift in his tone.

you hesitated. “hyunjin.”

there was a beat of silence on the other end. not long—just a second—but enough for you to notice.

“oh,” jisung finally said. “cool. guess he’s finally got you under his spell, huh?” his attempt at humor didn’t fully mask the disappointment in his voice.

you sighed, feeling a slight pang of guilt. “it’s just dinner. it wasn’t even planned or anything, we just ran into each other at the store.”

“right.” another pause. then, a forced chuckle. “well, have fun, then.”

you frowned at his sudden change in demeanor. “jisung, don’t be like that.”

“like what?” he let out a small laugh, but it lacked his usual warmth. “look, you can hang out with whoever you want. i was just calling to check in, that’s all.”

you exhaled through your nose, wanting to say more, but before you could, he beat you to it.

“i’ll see you later, okay?”

and before you could respond, the call ended.

you lowered your phone, staring at the screen for a moment. something about the way he had sounded unsettled you. you knew jisung cared about you—he was one of your closest friends here—but this felt different.

“everything okay?” hyunjin’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. he was standing next to you now, his bag in one hand, yours in the other, both receipts discarded. you didn’t even realize he bought your things for you, you were still hung up on what han said.

you forced a small smile, tucking your phone away. “yeah. just… my friend checking in.”

hyunjin raised a brow, but didn’t press. “ready to go?”

you nodded, pushing aside the lingering thoughts of jisung as you followed hyunjin out the door.

taglist: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek @babigriin @tirena1 @nickgurl4life

©chxnsgirl do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

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checkeredflagggs · 15 hours ago

Text

Bouquets of Love

pairing: oscar piastri x secret admirer!reader

summary: oscar has no idea who is leaving such gorgeous bouquets for him but he’s very grateful (and very determined to find out who)

a/n1: I’m gonna need you guys to repeat after me — suspend your disbelief please

a/n2: this idea really came from sin’s discord cause we like imagining oscar dating a florist — blushing every time he’s handed a bouquet…good image

Masterlist | Taglist

Private Messages

Bluesky

user1: oscar has a secret admirer?!?

↳user2: oh that’s so cute!

↳user1: right?

user3: don’t worry guys they were from me

↳user4: nah sorry man they were actually from me

user5: ok but did anyone get any footage of Oscar receiving the flowers? Cause this is him —> 😳😳

↳user6: wait how did you know?? 😂

↳user7: no but be so for real i can just see him being so blushy getting flowers

↳user8: you paint such a vivid picture…

user9: i wanna know who’s leaving him flowers…does he have a girlfriend??

↳user10: none that we know of! But tbh he’s like the top of the grid for having a secret relationship

↳user9: that’s very true

Private Messages

Bluesky

user11: ohhh someone is pulling out all the stops this V-Day!

user12: oh to be wooed with gorgeous gorgeous flower bouquets…

user13: I know we’re all joking about this but damn those are pretty!

user14: I know we’re all joking about this but how is it getting to his car?

↳oscarpiastri: that’s a very good question…

↳user14: oscar!

↳user15: you’ve been seen!

↳user14: yeah I don’t know if I like this or not…

oscarpiastri: you say you saw me getting the bouquet — does this mean you saw who did it?

↳81fan: sorry king but all I saw was a person in a long coat turning the corner

↳oscarpiastri: tall? Short? Average? Hair color? Skin color?

↳81fan: literally just the edge of their coat

↳81fan: tbh I only suspect them because they were hurrying away

↳oscarpiastri: so you’re really no help at all are you?

↳81fan: you can get kinda mean can’t you?

petals_and_pedals

liked by user, alexandrasaintmleux, user, and 18,193 others

petals_and_pedals: with Valentine’s Day coming up, stop right in for (almost) all of your needs!

view all comments

user16: do you sell everything there?

↳petals_and_pedals: hahaha it seems like it doesn’t it? But no, just flowers and formula 1!

↳user16: why?

↳petals_and_pedals: our parents left us an empty shop and we couldn’t agree on anything — so my brother runs the f1 side and I run the flower side!

↳user16: ok that’s cute

yourbrother: don’t forget to mention the sale

↳petals_and_pedals: oh yeah! Everything fast is 10% off this week. Everything pretty is 15% off this week!

↳user17: ok but what if they’re both?

↳petals_and_pedals: example?

↳user17: Charles Leclerc? Lewis Hamilton?

↳petals_and_pedals: not really my style tbh

↳user17: 😱😱😱

user18: do you sell premade bouquets?

↳petals_and_pedals: we do! And they come in a variety of sizes and styles!

user19: hmmm… 🤔

↳user19: user53 do you know what I’m thinking?

↳user53: …I do damn it

user20: if we don’t know exactly what we want?

↳petals_and_pedals: we’re here to help!

alexandrasaintmleux: charles_leclerc

↳charles_leclerc: hint received 😊 liked by alexandrasaintmleux

↳petals_and_pedals: if you dm us your favorite colors and flowers we can do a custom bouquet!

↳alexandrasaintmleux: 🩷🩷

Private Messages

Bluesky

user21: I’m loving this

↳user22: right? This is a romcom book waiting to happening

↳user23: I’m writing it as we speak

user24: ok where’s the crazy good detective user?

↳user19: I’m already working on it! And I think I’ve got it

↳user24: keep us updated!

oscarpiastri: if you people are gonna keep stalking my car, I’m going to need you guys to get better at photography

↳papaya_4ever: tbh it’s more fun watching you fumble this investigation

↳oscarpiastri: I’m gonna make sure you never get to go to a Grand Prix again in your life

↳papaya_4ever: not as much a threat as you think!

alex_albon: so this is what has you spamming the chats?

↳user25: he’s also freaking out about it to you guys??

↳alex_albon: everyone who lives in his building!

↳user25: that’s funny af

↳oscarpiastri: it is not!!

Bluesky

user26: WE GOT A SIGHTING!

↳user27: can anyone tell me why im more invested in this relationship then anything else in my life right now???

user28: I’m so sat right now. I can not wait for the finale of this…

↳user29: almost worth it to get the popcorn out…

oscarpiastri: ok I’m going to need you to give me a full debrief right now

↳81_4!: …not with that attitude

↳oscarpiastri: 😑😡

↳81_4!: yeah you scare me

↳81_4!: goodbye

↳oscarpiastri: get back here and explain yourself

logansargeant: damn…I wanted this to go on longer…

↳oscarpiastri: you know I’m kinda glad you’re not gonna be around anymore

↳alex_albon: wow you do get mean when you don’t get your way

↳logansargeant: he’s always been like this — ignore it

user19: ehehehehe I solved it

↳user53: yeah you did!

↳oscarpiastri: start talking

↳user19: already tagged you on her page!

↳oscarpiastri: I like you best

↳user53: no

petals_and_pedals

liked by user, francisca.cgomes, user19, and 11,813 others

petals_and_pedals: some of the bouquets premade for Valentine’s Day this Friday! Come stop in and make the day of love a special one!

view all comments

user30: those are so gorgeous!

↳petals_and_pedals: and on sale! liked by user26

francisca.cgomes: I hear you do custom bouquets?

↳petals_and_pedals: we do! Dm us and we can get started on making the perfect one for you!

↳francisca.cgomes: pierregasly!!

↳pierregasly: got it!

user19: ahahaha got it! oscarpiastri is this the bouquet you got today?

↳oscarpiastri: it is…good catch

↳user53: good job babe!

↳user31: babe??!?

Bluesky

user32: he got the girl!!!

↳user33: always believed in him!

↳user34: really?

↳user33: not at all! It was funny watching him freak out

user35: he got the date on Valentine’s Day??

↳user36: wait stop that’s so cute…

oscarpiastri: ok I wasn’t being plagued by bouquets…

↳logansargeant: really? Could have fooled me the way you were freaking out about it…

↳user37: really?

↳logansargeant: constantly. He was terrorizing everyone trying to find out who did it

↳oscarpiastri: go back to America and leave me alone

↳logansargeant: 😂😂

georgerussell63: Finally

↳user38: it couldn’t have been that bad…

↳georgerussell63: He yelled at me for 5 minutes because I couldn’t give him any camera footage from the garage.

↳user38: Damn. Didn’t think he had it in him…

↳georgerussell63: Neither did I…

yourbrother: damn I didn’t have papaya on the bingo card…

↳oscarpiastri: it’s the only color on the bingo card now…

↳yourusername: awwww 🥰🥰

↳yourbrother: I feel like that was a threat

↳oscarpiastri: it was. Yes. liked by yourusername

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 1,923,924 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: I got the girl and now she’s the one getting bouquets

view all comments

yourusername: you’re actually so adorable…

↳oscarpiastri: obviously but you don’t have to tell everyone that…

user39: ok I’ve only had them for a couple of hours but if anything happened to them I’d kill everyone then myself… liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername

yourbrother: gladly, she’s your problem now

↳yourusername: that’s not very brotherly of you…

↳yourbrother: I don’t care. Get out of the store and go have a life

↳yourusername: rude

charles_leclerc: a new daughter-in-law!

↳oscarpiastri: not yet…

↳yourusername: 😳😳

user40: google - how to be adopted into this family

↳yourusername: sorry but this one is mine

↳oscarpiastri: absolutely

Taglist

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cryptidbear · 3 days ago

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YES! YOU GET IT!!!

The angst of it all is just perfect, honestly.

the back and forth between his kids ending up as robins or vigilantes in general.

the fear of finding them dead like he did Bruce.

the fear of not returning alive to his kids like Bruce did.

But seeing younger him in them when they fight to be robin or anything else-

the same way he used to fight Bruce.

and he knows he can't keep doing it alone, knows Gotham needs a light he can't give to them now that he's Batman, something that only Robin could give.

but that fear is so deeply rooted that he feels stuck in place, unsure of what to even do.

I have some notes i wrote down back when i was brainstorming the au-

Jason wants to be a hero- he wants to fight alongside Dick. He wants to help Crime Alley- his home, and better it.

Dick's heart seizes in fear and he absolutely forbids it, a hard no. His foot is down. "I can't lose you too, Jason. I can't lose another family member, I can't watch someone I love die to crime another time. Just... grow up a normal kid. Please."

Jason is angry at this answer, his hands clutching into his hoodie as he shouts with tears in his eyes, asking Dick how he thinks he feels watching Dick go out all alone as Batman and coming back looking like a damned corpse? If Dick dies... then Jason is all alone again. He's afraid of another parental figure dying.

Dick is left reeling as the young boy storms off, his heart dropping into his stomach, stuck between a rock and a hard place, feeling like the weight of everything was finally crushing him.

But he doesn't take back what he says. It hurts, but he doesn't want to see Jason ever get hurt. He doesn't think he can handle it. He doesn't think he could survive it.

He's lost enough already, hasn't he?

And then one night, Jason steals Dick's old Robin costume from his early days from the display case, wrinkling his nose as he dawns the pixie boots. Because pixie boots, really Dick?

And he's sneaking out once Dick has left for patrol, long after the young boy was supposed to be asleep.

the suit is ill fitting but he feels light as air as he stumbles his way across rooftops, using his skills he'd learned while living on the streets to prowl unseen by Batman.

Or, at least he thinks he's being sneaky, until Dick is snatching him up by the bright yellow cape, and in a loud angry voice he's never had directed at him from Dick, the older male lets his anger gets the best of him. Yells at him on some random rooftop, all the emotions and fears he's kept bottled up for so long spilling out as he sees Jason in his old Robin suit.

He says things he doesn't mean, things he immediately regrets as he see's Jason's heart break and tears bead up in Jason's eyes.

watches with dread as the young boy just breaks down in a way he never has before right there on the rooftop, and before Dick can even apologize, the boy has run off, quick as lightning.

It takes two excruciating hours before he finds Jason hidden somewhere in Crime Alley, still sobbing and curled up, tucked away in some hidden corner, soaked from the rain.

Dick collapses in front of the boy and just draws him tight to his chest, covering the shivering boy with his cape and warming him up, his back against a wall and the tiny boy cradled in his lap, his head tucked beneath his chin.

they don't speak for a long while, silent as they both try to process their own emotions, as Dick tries to navigate something he never thought he'd have to.

"I'm afraid of losing you like I lost him." he admits, quiet in the wind as he holds the boy closer, almost desperately like he's afraid he'll disappear if he doesn't. "I just finally started living again... and i can't lose the one light I have."

its silent for a while once more, Dick weighing his options on what he should do,

Jason speaks up next, speaking of the way crime alley needed help, help that Batman couldn't give on his own. Things that he just couldn't understand without growing up there.

Dick listens to his son, listens to the passionate way he speaks, listens to how Jason opens up about Catherine, and about the gangs and how its barely livable there anymore.

Dick can't deny him anymore after that.

He breaks and gives in, a small, wet laugh leaving his lips. "There's no one else I'd rather be my robin." he whispers.

They don't discuss it anymore that night, Dick carrying the boy back to the manor.

They both end up with bad colds and Alfred scolds the both of them, but he doesn't leave the boy's side the whole time, trying to make up for his mistakes. for all the hurt he caused.

Once they're better, Dick lays out the rules, trying to find solutions to make them both happy.

School will be Jason's number one priority, and Jason can only do short patrols on weekdays, longer on weekends.

He would not go out until he had a few months of training, except to keep watch for Batman.

Dick would take him on patrol through crime alley, and they would work together to figure out what they needed to do to help.

He was not allowed on missions or to fight any super dangerous fights- no matter how much he wanted to. not until he was on the field for a long time, thank you very much.

Jason hates some of the rules, but he finally relents after a long time debating over it, knowing that Dick had some good points, even though he's never tell the man that.

Dick lets Jason redesign the robin costume to suit him better, and the first thing Jason does is add pants. he was really fucking cold in Dick's outfit and he didn't like it.

Jason becomes crime alley's Robin, recognized as one of their own. It starts to slowly blossom under his guidance, bit by bit over the years.

(one day I'll actually write this fully fleshed out as a fic and not just 3 am rambles, lol)

(and one day i'll write about the other kids too, i just haven't written past like, Jason and Tim meeting for the first time bc i'm brainstorming chapter by chapter oops.)

Lying awake at 5 am thinking of the au I planned out where Batman dies before Dick ever becomes Nightwing, so Dick becomes Batman and he ends up adopting all his siblings instead.

19/20 year old Dick Grayson staring down at a like 10-13 year old Jason Todd trying to steal his tires and understanding why Bruce took him home that day at the circus.

Dick Grayson staring at Jason who brought home a young Tim and feeling like he can never let Tim go, or maybe him finding the young boy taking photos one late night.

Dick finding out about (baby!) Damian and stealing him. That's *his* son now.

Him finding Cass and just accepting he has a daughter too. Doesn't even fight it anymore.

Duke? He just sighs and wraps the kid up in a blanket. Alfred's already got a room set up for him by the time they're back at the manor.

Eventually, Tim and Steph date and break up (she gets to finally have a good time as Robin PLEASE) but Dick gets said when she stops coming to family dinner. She starts coming again bc she can't stand the puppy dog eyes. She's his unofficial daughter.

Barbara and Alfred just watching all this go down and staring to place bets on when they think another shows up.

Dick but he just inherits his father's adoption problems.

Ft uncle Clark and aunt Lois with (baby!!!) Kon and eventually a baby Jon.

Ft an unholy amount of angst almost every damned chapter.

#batman #dick grayson #dick grayson as batman #dc #dc fanfic #rambles #cryptidbear writing #dc jason todd #jason todd #batman fanfiction #batfam #dc au #canon divergence #single dad!Dick au

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princessrazzledazzle · 1 day ago

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My Random Twisted Wonderland Headcanons

Riddle: Doesn’t only love strawberries because of the taste, but also because they’re sorta shaped like little red hearts and it reminds him of love. The love his parents never gave him, but he dreams of all the time, the love of his close friends, and romantic love. He’s secretly a hopeless romantic.

Trey: The reason he has glasses is because he used to stare into the light thing they have above you on the dentist chair on purpose.

Cater: Was into animation memes and musicals at one point. Still watches them from time to time, especially if ones trending.

Ace: Loves car racing games, whether it be a random free mobile game, arcade game, even on roblox. Used to want to be a race car driver when grew up.

Deuce: Would eat autozone seafood boil, then get collared by Riddle for one, being stupid enough to consume food from autozone of all places, and two, stinking up the entire dorm for 3 hours straight.

Leona: Likes being scratched behind the ears when he’s feeling sad or sleepy, only Ruggie knows about this though as one time he did it just to tease him when they were younger, and REFUSES to let Leona live it down. Leona lets Ruggie scratch his ears in exchange for never telling another soul about it.

Ruggie: Once stole and drank an entire can of whip cream in one sitting and got really sick to the point he was throwing up for days. He vows to do it again someday.

Jack: Secretly loves plushies and would openly collect them if wasn’t so invested in being a “tough guy”. He has a few as gifts from his family members and he cherishes them, he even sleeps with them sometimes.

Azul: Had a itty bitty crush on Ariel when he was little, he used to read picture books of the benevolent Sea Witch just to look at the illustrations of Ariel.

Jade: Likes to debone animals for fun, whether it’s a land animal, sea animal, big, or small, he’s gonna catch it and he WILL debone it. He’s slightly ashamed of this hobby however.

Floyd: Slightly jealous of Jade because he’s seen as the “sane” twin, and even though most people avoid both of them like the plague, he can tell they feel more at ease with Jade and it makes him sad. He tries to control himself and act “normal” every once in a while, but he can’t help but to be a weirdo, he doesn’t know how to mask himself like his twin does.

Kalim: Had a pet viper that he found in his back yard one day and decided to keep because it reminded him of Jamil. He would even dress it up to look like Jamil and everything and swore it could talk, claiming it sounded just like Jamil. The snake ran away btw.

Jamil: Hates most cartoons because Kalim used to and still does force him to binge watch them with him. When they were little, Kalim used to cry if he didn’t, so now he has slight ptsd.

Vil: Accidentally gave himself a weak stomach due to his strict diet of only healthy stuff, and can barely eat a ice cream cone or a cheeseburger without getting bad stomach aches.

Rook: Was one of those people that had two costumes for halloween so they could go around the neighborhood twice and get more candy. He went as Neige first then Vil every year till he got enrolled in Night Raven.

Epel: Collects horse figures, not mlp just regular horses, He keeps them in a box where no one can find them because they’re “unmanly”. He doesn’t really play with the horses, but he does have names and personalities for them.

Idia: Likes magical girl animes, but too afraid to admit it to anyone, even online. He knows that if he does he’ll get called a gooner, he kinda is and he doesn’t need even more people thinking that about him as half of NRC already does. He genuinely likes those animes and loves all the cool weapons and transformation scenes, though he finds them a little repetitive.

Ortho: Is really into pokémon because he wanted to watch anime just like his big brother as something to bond over. Occasionally he’ll beg Idia to somehow install pokémon go into his programming, Idia always says no.

Malleus: Likes having his horns petted and wishes he could have them pet more often. The only people who would were his mother, grandmother, Silver when he was little, and Lilia. Lilia is the only one who still pets him from time to time, mostly when he’s had a bad day or falling asleep.

Lilia: Really into those mlg memes, the doritos and mountain dew shit, and will randomly yell “OOH BABY A TRIPLE” or “MOM GET THE CAMERA” to spook people. He thinks it’s hilarious.

Silver: A really good singer, but only Lilia, Malleus, and Sebek know because they caught him a few times on accident. Silver is incredibly embarrassed of it and made them swear to never tell anyone else.

Sebek: Has a secret passion for art, he’s not very good at it and most of his drawings look pretty goofy as if a first grader drew them, but he’s proud of them, Despite that, he never let anyone go near his sketchbook, especially his liege, claiming it’s just a book about how great Malleus is.

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crochetnerdsworld · 2 days ago

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Secret's Out (Katie McCabe/Reader)

Arsenal teammates Y/N and Katie have been secretly dating for a while now. When Kelley facetime unexpectedly, she finds out and insists Y/N brings Katie to the US.

Y/N groans as her phone goes off. It's early morning. Half awake, she grabs a hoodie off the floor and slips it on quickly. Leaving the room so as to not wake her longtime girlfriend, she answers the facetime, smiling as she sees it is Kelley O'Hara.

When Y/N first joined the USWNT, she was only sixteen. Having grown up with her uncle as her guardian due to her biological parents being deemed unfit to care for her, she really did not have much family support. Her uncle loves her, but often was forced to work long hours in order to make ends meet so the pair were never extremely close.

Kelley O'Hara was roomed with Y/N and took the young girl under her wing, claiming her as her and Alex's child (Alex went along with it, used to her girlfriend's antics at that point). The three have remained close ever since that first camp and Y/N views them both as her mother figures. Both are protective over their "child" and will fight anyone who hurts her. Needless to say, they were very proud when Y/N got asked to sign with Arsenal, but were worried about her going overseas by herself. They were slightly less worried when it turned out Emily Fox, Y/N's best friend, would be signing with Arsenal, too, but both check in with Y/N daily even though she's been with Arsenal for over a year.

"Hey Kel. What's up?" Y/N asks, yawning.

"Hey kiddo. Nothing much, just checking in," Kelley replies.

Katie Mccabe chooses that moment to emerge from the bedroom, a frown on her face due to having woken up without her girlfriend beside her. Not fully awake, she goes up from behind Y/N and wraps her arms around her waist, resting her head on her shoulder.

"Ye left me alone," Katie pouts, causing Y/N's eyes to widen. She and Katie weren't public with their relationship, wanting their privacy from the media. Y/N really had meant to tell Alex and Kelley, but she just never got around to it.

"Y/N..." Kelley states.

"Kelley..." Y/N , replies, an "Oh Shit" look on her face, already going for the end call button.

"Don't you dare hang up on me, kid," Kelley warns, "Alex! Alex get your butt in here!"

"Well gotta go bye love you," Y/N says before quickly hanging up and turning towards Katie, "Well, guess they know now?"

"Ye, guess they do. They were going to find out eventually," Katie shrugs.

Just then, Y/N's phone is infiltrated with multiple messages from both Kelley and Alex:

Surprise. You are the winner of two plane tickets to San Diego. Nonrefundable. Bring your girlfriend. I just want to talk to her -Kelley

I love you, Y/N/N, and I know you have a good reason for not telling us sooner. We can talk when you get in. I promise I'll try to reel in Kelley, but she's already in mama bear mode. See you soon -Alex

"O'Hara's going to murder me," Katie groans as she flops onto the couch in a dramatic fashion.

"Nah, she's all bark no bite" Y/N shrugs, joining Katie on the couch.

"Tell that to anyone who's fouled you or Morgan in the past. Pretty sure she punched one of 'em," Katie replies.

******

"They should be here soon. Now, what did we talk about?" Alex questions.

"No murdering Mccabe," Kelley pouts.

"Good. Get to know her first. Emily says she's really nice and treats Y/N well. You know Fox would kick her butt if she wasn't," Alex states, pecking Kelley's lips softly.

Just then, the doorbell rings and Kelley opens it to reveal Y/N and Katie. Alex ushers the pair inside, hugging Y/N tightly, Kelley doing the same.

"Right then. You hurt her, I will kill you, got it?" Kelley states as she pulls away from hugging Y/N, glaring daggers at Katie.

"Got it," Katie mumbles. In her defense, Kelley O'Hara can be scary when she wants to be.

"Perfect. Now, what do you two want to do for lunch?" Kelley nods, clapping her hands together.

#uswnt imagines #woso imagines #katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader #kelley o'hara x reader #alex morgan x reader #arsenal x reader

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cloversnstrawberries · 2 days ago

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oc intro post ! ! parental!platonic yandere!supervillian

! requests open !

warnings; vague depictions of violence, implied violence against children/youth (reader), slight mentions of gore, body horror(?), and medical horror, yandere behavior, kidnapping, and there may be more i'm forgetting :( if so, please let me know!!

additional notes; hello everynyan, here is my first OC, Malpractice!! very creative name, i know, but i thought it fit (and also it's funny to me) :D i'm not quite sure what format to do for these introductions, but i'm sure as I make more i'll get better at them :) please leave suggestions for any parts/additions you'd like for these intros!!

! ! introduction blurb & moodboard below the cut ! !

Malpractice is known as one of the most destructive and hard-to-deal with villain in all of history, having appeared around the 1930s and refusing to go away since. Malpractices comes and he goes, but he always seems to return eventually, whether that be in three months, or 20 years. He is like an illness that never truly goes away. Remission is possible, but the possibility for it to resurface at any moment is a very real, impending threat.

With abilities ranging from mind control, disease manipulation, pseudo-necromancy, and enhanced senses, speed, and strength; no one hero could ever hope to face Malpractice head on alone. Not even a group of them could ever hope to entirely defeat Malpractice,

Malpractice was a charismatic, slippery asshole-- he'd never really been caught before, but he's sure as hell caught others before. While he isn't known for doing this often, if he wants something bad enough, he'll take his time to set a well thought out trap to catch whatever-- or whoever-- it was he sought.

And when he saw you, so young but so very battered-- left to deal with an (albeit low level, but still dangerous in its own right) threat because your mentor/partner, prioritized a personal goings-on instead of staying by your side.

He'd seen as the so called hero went off the side, leaving you to fight the threat alone-- as you desperately called for their help, only to realize that they'd left without a word; beckoned by the person on the phone.

And it must've been so strange, to feel a little tug on his heart as he witnessed your reaction. Not quite angry, but rather... disappointed, but accepting. Like this was a regular, expected occurrence. Like you were blaming yourself for holding your mentor to a higher standard than this.

By then, Malpractice had decided that you deserved better. He could provide you with that-- besides, in his eyes, even if you were just on the cusp of adulthood-- you were still a child.

My, the industry sure had gone downhill from his time, hadn't it? When he'd been a doctor helping the superpowered individuals, working under the agency, though in it's infancy at the time, had taught him that children were to be nowhere near the career.

Sidekicks were not children, they were simply other superpowered individuals who along, did not do very well; but fit well with a more powerful hero, creating a dynamic duo.

You and your mentor couldn't couldn't be more different, both personality and ability wise. Really, what was he supposed to do, not spring a 'surprise adoption' on you?

Obviously, you're only fighting it because you don't feel worthy of love. That's the only reason, not that you're afraid of him or anything!

#oc: malpractice #yandere x reader #yandere oc #platonic yandere #platonic yandere oc #platonic yandere x reader #yandere #soft yandere #horror #yandere horror #my writing #reqs open #requests open #my ocs <3 #neglected reader #oc intro !

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ssparksflyy · 23 hours ago

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jason grace dating headcanons ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

pairing jason grace x daughter of hera!reader warnings none i think this ones pretty much all fluff unless your uncomfortable with marriage and children lol an i have a whole yap on how i think children of hera are created here if u wanna check it out cause im quite proud of it ꈍ◡ꈍ , requested !!

alexa play so high school by taylor swift pretty pls ‹𝟹

my bad just had to set the mood before i talked about THE CUTEST COUPLE EVERRRRRR

jason dating a daughter of hera would just be so like cliche classic romance that everybody longs for

a timeless love if you will

youd think that your parents arguments and bickers would have some sort of effect on your relationship but you just dont care LMFAO

well i mean like your relationship with your mother is probably pretty good and stable (you know, for a relationship with a greek god) and i truly do think that hera would be caring torwards her demigod children cause those are her kids and they dont have a stinky man for a father

but your parents really dont have much of an effect on your lives because your relationship is something you developed and worked on together, and it has nothing to do with them

you first met jason when he crash landed on the shore of chb with piper and leo, but didnt really speak to him at first

but he DEFINITELY wished you did

cause the second the crowd swarmed him and he locked eyes with you, oh boy

SMITTEN

actually standing there with his mouth open

he wouldve spoken to you sooner if he didnt feel like his insides were being flipped at the mere thought of you

but you did end up speaking literally the day before he left for his quest

you had moved over to his table during dinner to wish him luck and find out a bit more about this quest

but you ended up taking for the entire night, hitting it off immediately and ending the night with him walking you to your cabin door with the excuse of "my legs are dragging me in the wrong direction!"

and when he returned from his quest, you were the first person he talked to about it

he literally went into full detail just so he'd have an excuse to talk to you longer (but left out the part where leo threatened to dump him into the ocean if he didn't shut up about you)

i feel like during your whole 'friends but you it doesn't feel like your actual friends and you can kinda tell you both want something more' era, jason is definitely making all the efforts to extend the conversation, spend more time with you, and to get to know you better while youre the one dropping more subtle hints that you want something more (which have him staring at his wall at 3 am questioning EVERYTHING)

i hate to drag things on longer than the should but guys... you dont get together until AFTER the quest of the 7 (well 8 cause surprise shawtay! you spent months on a boat fighting the tension between you and jason ‹𝟹) and even then it takes a few months full of you dropping heavy hints, the contemplation to make the first move, and countless amounts of teasing from your friends for him to FINALLY ask you if you'd let him be your boyfriend

thankfully from there, things just began to flow easily :)

you went on dates pretty often, but at some point you stopped considering them to be dates because you spend so much time together and its a bit difficult to come up with something original in a summer camp

but once you eventually move out of chb (jason moved camps to be with you) and into your apartments (not shared cause we need some space), you both made sure you were both coming up with unique ideas and planned dates frequently :)

jason ends up working a job in finance (trust fund, 6'5, blue eyes), while you did... well wtv u want queen !!

honestly life further on out is so peaceful and simple between you two, any issues you face you always work them out together

communication is so big between you two likeeee

not even only if you get into arguments and stuff, but just like in general

you talk about everything, know everything about each other, the yap sesh never ends between you guys ‹𝟹

you probably dont move in together until after youre married, which honestly bro ... biggest occasion ever

i cant lie and be like 'oh you just did something peaceful in a garden with friends ‹𝟹' nah yall went ALL OUT

youve been dreaming about your wedding since you were a kid (it comes with the parentage bro) and jason views giving you a big wedding as a way to really express your love for each other (and he gets to spoil u hehe)

he goes all out to propose too btw, like asks your closest friends from camp what your ideal proposal is and goes through with it

but yea after marriage? your life becomes practically perfect with the beginning of your family and live together forever nd ever ‹𝟹

not to say stuff gets boring like ur kids? some of the most random childrento ever walk the earth like theres always SOMETHING happening with them

and you and jason dont allow yourselves to go boring either, you stay communicating and working out different ways to showcase your affection for each other

you guys stay really close with your friends and always have them over for dinner and such ‹𝟹 (GUYS THE SEVEN ARE FOUND FAMILY IDGAFFFFF)

but yeah you continue to live in your happily ever after little fairy tale for ever n ever n ever ‹𝟹

#wowie this have been sitting in my drafts for a while #but shes finally been released !!#jason grace #jason grace x reader #jason grace x you #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #by bells ♡⋆ ࣪.#whos the cute boy with the wide blue eyes? ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

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bitchinbarzal · 2 days ago

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Operation mom & dad | M Boldy

summary: jade is determined to get her mom and dad back together.

The roar of the crowd echoes through the Xcel as Matt takes the ice, his number bold on the back of his jersey. You watch from the stands, Jade perched on your lap, her tiny hands clapping wildly.

“Daddy’s the best, right, Mommy?” she asks, turning her bright green eyes up at you.

You smile, ruffling her soft brown curls. “Of course he is, baby.”

It’s always been like this. You and Matt—co-parenting effortlessly, supporting each other despite the past. Your friends tease that you’re just pretending to be broken up, that no exes should get along this well. But the truth is, you and Matt have a rhythm. A history. A love that never really faded, even if things didn’t work out the way you once planned.

But if there’s one person determined to change that, it’s your daughter.

Attempt #1: The Forgotten Jacket

It starts small. Too small to suspect anything at first.

One night, after dropping Jade off at Matt’s place, you get a call just as you’re pulling into your driveway.

“Mommy!” Jade’s voice is serious, like she’s on an important mission. “You forgot your jacket at Daddy’s!”

Your brows knit together. “Are you sure? I don’t think I—”

“You did,” she insists. “You have to come back. Right now.”

With a chuckle, you turn around and drive back. When you get there, Matt is standing in the doorway, holding his hoodie.

“She meant this,” he says, amused. “Pretty sure this has been in my closet since before she was born.”

Jade beams between you, looking way too proud of herself.

“You should keep it, Mommy,” she chirps. “It smells like Daddy.”

Your face heats, and Matt rubs the back of his neck, clearly unsure how to respond.

“Uh, thanks, J,” you mumble, clutching the hoodie to your chest as you leave.

It smells like cedar and something familiar. Like home.

Attempt #2: The ‘Oops, There’s Only One Bed’ Trick

On a weekend trip to Chicago for one of Matt’s away games, you and Jade stay in the same hotel.

Everything is fine—until you realize that your perfectly booked two-bed room has somehow turned into a single king-sized bed.

“The team told me they asked for two beds,” you tell the front desk, exasperated.

The receptionist frowns. “Your daughter told us you wanted one bed. I am so sorry we have nothing else available”

Your head snaps toward Jade, who grins, completely unrepentant.

“Jade—”

“It was worth a try,” she shrugs.

Matt arrives moments later, taking in the situation with a smirk. “Guess I’m sleeping on the floor.”

But when Jade starts fake crying—“We can all share! It’s a big bed!”—you both cave, lying stiffly on opposite sides.

Still, sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to Matt’s arm draped over your waist. And instead of moving away, you let yourself sink into it—just for a moment.

Attempt #3: The School Art Project

Parent-teacher night at Jade’s school is usually straightforward. You admire her work, chat with her teacher, and call it a night.

Except this time, her teacher greets you and Matt with a knowing smile.

“You have to see what Jade made,” she gushes, leading you to a table filled with colorful drawings.

There, in bright crayon strokes, is a picture of you, Matt, and Jade—holding hands, a big red heart above your heads. The words MY FAMILY are scrawled in crooked letters at the top.

You glance at Matt. He’s staring at the drawing, something unreadable in his expression.

“She talks about you two all the time,” the teacher says warmly. “How much she loves when you’re all together.”

Matt looks at you then, his blue eyes softer than you’ve seen in years.

And your heart stumbles.

Attempt #4: The “Oops, We Missed the Game” Move

One evening, as you’re supposed to take Jade to Matt’s game, she starts complaining of a “tummy ache.”

You fuss over her, canceling your plans, but by the time puck drop comes around, she’s suddenly perfectly fine.

“Jade…” you say, narrowing your eyes. “Were you really sick?”

She bats her lashes innocently. “I just thought Daddy would come check on us if we didn’t show up.”

You sigh, settling in to watch from the couch.

After the game you were tidying up when the door rings.

It’s Matt.

“You okay?” he asks, concern evident in his face “Saw you weren’t at the game.”

You exchange a glance with your daughter, who looks way too smug.

“We’re fine” you murmur.

Matt looks like he wants to say something more, but instead, he just ruffles Jade’s hair and stays for a while.

And you don’t mind. Not one bit.

The Breaking Point

It happened suddenly. A long shift at the hospital, a reckless driver on the road, and before you know it, you’re lying in a hospital bed instead of standing beside one.

You’re mostly fine—just a concussion, a few bruised ribs—but when you finally open your eyes, the first thing you see is Matt.

He’s sitting in the chair beside you, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. He looks exhausted, his usual steady composure cracked wide open. His hair is a mess, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times, and there’s a crease between his brows that only deepens when he notices you stirring.

“Y/N.” His voice is raw, barely above a whisper.

You try to smile, but your ribs protest at the movement. “Hey, Matty.”

He exhales sharply, his whole body seeming to uncoil as he leans forward, his hands hovering like he wants to touch you but doesn’t know if he should.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he murmurs. “I got the call in the middle of practice, and I just—” He drags a hand down his face, exhaling harshly. “I thought— I don’t even know what I thought. I just knew I had to get to you.”

Your heart clenches. “I’m okay,” you reassure him softly. “Just a little banged up.”

But he doesn’t look comforted. If anything, his jaw tightens, his hands clenching into fists.

“You shouldn’t have been alone” he says after a moment “I should’ve been there.”

His words make something ache deep inside you, something that’s been lingering for far too long.

“Matt…”

He finally reaches for your hand then, threading his fingers through yours. His grip is firm, steady, like he needs to feel you to believe you’re still here.

“I can’t do this anymore” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your chest tightens. “Do what?”

“This” He gestures vaguely between you, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over your knuckles. “Pretending like we’re just co-parents. Like we don’t still—” He stops himself, inhaling deeply before meeting your gaze “Like I don’t still love you.”

The words settle between you, heavy and fragile all at once.

Your breath catches, your heart pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it.

“Matt…”

He shakes his head, his grip tightening. “No, just— just let me say this, okay? I thought we were doing the right thing, staying apart. I told myself that over and over again. But every time I see you, every time we’re together with Jade, it feels like I’m right back where I’m supposed to be. And tonight, when I thought—” He swallows hard. “I can’t lose you, Y/N. I don’t want to spend another second pretending like you’re not my home”

Tears sting your eyes. Because God, you know. You’ve always known.

Your life without Matt has never really been a life without him. He’s always been there, steady and sure, woven into your every day. And maybe you were both too stubborn or too scared to admit it before.

“I love you,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped”

A tear slips down your cheek, and Matt reaches up to catch it with his thumb. His hand lingers, his palm warm against your skin.

You lean into the touch, exhaling shakily “I love you, too.”

The relief that washes over his face is immediate. And then he’s kissing you—soft at first, careful, like he’s afraid you might disappear. But when you pull him closer, fingers tangling in his hoodie, it deepens into something more—something familiar, something new, something that feels like coming home.

A tiny gasp from the doorway makes you break apart, and you both turn to find Jade standing there, eyes wide with delight.

“Are you kissing?” she asks, her little hands pressed to her mouth.

You laugh breathlessly, swiping at your damp cheeks. “We are”

Jade lets out an excited squeal and bolts down the hall. “GRANDMA! GRANDPA! DADDY AND MOMMY ARE IN LOVE!”

Matt groans, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “She’s never gonna let us live that down”

You grin, threading your fingers through his hair. “Probably not”

He pulls back, brushing his nose against yours. “Guess that means we have to make it official, huh?”

Your heart swells.

“Yeah” you whisper. “I guess we do.”

And as he kisses you again,you know, without a doubt, that you’ve finally found your way back home.

#matt boldy x reader #matt boldy imagine #nhl imagine

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alittlegiraffe · 2 days ago

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Title: Parent-Teacher Tension

Marshall was already in a mood when you both walked into the school. He didn’t love these things—sitting through a meeting with some overly enthusiastic teacher talking about your kid’s progress. But he’d promised to come, so here he was, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his hoodie, his jaw clenched as he followed you inside.

You, on the other hand, were all smiles, greeting the teacher warmly as you both sat down across from his desk.

“Mr. (Teacher’s Last Name), thanks for meeting with us,” you said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

The guy smiled—too much for Marshall’s liking. “Of course, Mrs. Mathers. Always a pleasure.” His eyes lingered a little too long on you before he cleared his throat and turned to Marshall. “And Mr. Mathers, it’s great to finally meet you.”

Marshall just nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line.

The meeting went on, the teacher going over test scores and participation, but Marshall wasn’t really listening. No, he was too busy watching the way this guy leaned in every time he spoke to you, the way his hand casually brushed the desk near yours, the way his eyes flickered to your lips when you laughed at something he said.

Was he serious? Right in front of him?

Marshall’s hand flexed on his thigh, his nails digging into the denim of his jeans.

You, completely oblivious, kept chatting, asking questions, smiling that damn sunshine smile of yours. Marshall loved that smile—but not when it was directed at some dude who clearly wanted more than just a parent-teacher conversation.

When the teacher lightly touched your forearm while emphasizing a point, Marshall was done. His hand shot out, wrapping possessively around your thigh. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t have to. His grip tightened slightly, his thumb stroking slow, deliberate circles against your jeans.

You glanced at him in confusion, but he just stared at the teacher, who had suddenly lost some of his confidence. Good.

The rest of the meeting was short, Marshall barely speaking, only nodding stiffly when necessary. When it was finally over, you stood to shake the teacher’s hand, still unaware of the silent tension buzzing in the air.

“Thanks again,” you said warmly.

Marshall didn’t bother with a handshake. Instead, he stood behind you, his hand sliding to the small of your back, fingers pressing just enough to make sure the teacher saw. “Yeah, thanks,” he said, voice low and flat.

The teacher swallowed. “Of course.”

Marshall didn’t say anything else as he led you out of the classroom, his hand never leaving your back.

The car ride home was quiet, but you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, his jaw tight, his eyes locked on the road.

“What’s wrong with you?” you finally asked, brows furrowing as you turned to face him.

Marshall scoffed, shaking his head. “You serious?”

“Uh, yeah?”

His knuckles turned white against the wheel. “That teacher was all over you, and you just sat there gigglin’ like it was nothin’.”

Your eyes widened. “What? No, he wasn’t!”

Marshall shot you a look. “He touched you, babe.”

You frowned. “He touched my arm, like, once.”

He let out a humorless laugh. “And stared at you like he was tryna figure out what you taste like.”

Your jaw dropped. “Marshall!”

“What?” He pulled into the driveway, throwing the car into park before turning to you. “You really didn’t notice?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “No, because I wasn’t looking for it. And even if he was, so what? You know I’m yours.”

His blue eyes darkened, and in one swift motion, he reached across the console, gripping your chin between his fingers. “Damn right, you are,” he muttered before crashing his lips against yours.

The kiss was rough, possessive, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer. When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his eyes still locked onto yours.

“Inside. Now.”

Your stomach flipped at the command in his voice.

You smirked. “Jealous much?”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You have no idea.”

And with that, he was out of the car, heading inside without another word.

You bit your lip, heat pooling in your stomach as you followed after him.

Yeah, this was gonna be a long night.

#eminem #marshall mathers #eminem x reader #marshall mathers x reader

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ariadnes-elixirs · 3 days ago

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while i'm working on their actual stories....

fun facts about each of my yans!

characters: yan noble boy, yan neighbor, yan forgotten god

yandere noble boy (oliver)

struggles with people and social interaction

spends most of his time gardening and baking

has a habit of showing up unannounced to the isekaied reader's family estate

neither of your parents mind

in fact both your parents and his parents have been pushing y'all to get married

but he refuses an arranged marriage cause he wants you to fall in love with him organically

not afraid of manipulating you though

very wet cat vibe overall

he has long white hair usually tied with a red ribbon gifted to him from you when y'all were children

isekaied reader has no clue what story they were isekaied into cause both them and elliott are so far removed from the main plotline of the og story

they just kinda live in a neighboring kingdom allied with the empire where Main Plot happens

so reader has no magical advantage from knowing the plot ahead of time :)

probably the least dangerous out of everyone here

he's more of the devoted/obsessed/manipulative type

he would never want to get his dainty hands dirty unless he absolutely has to

does bury evidence of any crimes he commits underneath his flowerbeds though

but yeah he's a wet cat

definitely would try "rizzing" you up by going "PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEEE"

yandere neighbor (elliott)

he likes spicy food

his hair is naturally black, but he usually dyes it blue

he is an engineer that mostly works remotely from his apartment

is a prodigy, and usually works freelance cause no one can pay him enough to permanently keep him on staff

rich

overworks himself though

takes on too many jobs and sometimes forgets that he is a human being that needs to eat and sleep

but will scold you for overworking yourself

a natural caretaker

he wants to be depended on and loves taking care of people

and when he takes care of someone else he will usually end up trying to take care of himself to lead by example

so his love language (giving) is acts of service

but as you might expect (cause yandere) he is not afraid to create circumstances in which you would be forced to depend on him

he would never hurt you directly

if he does go after someone with the intent to kill, it'll only be a person that has made your life a living hell

then when they're gone he'll be that person you can talk to about it

but usually he just causes some problems with the wiring of some electronics in your apartment when he visits

and then waits like a schoolgirl on his bed kicking his feet up in the air until you call him and ask him to fix it

has the potential be to actually dangerous/threatening, but never to you

yandere forgotten god (cal)

was banished by the gods

has been stuck on his island for so long that he genuinely doesn't remember how long he's been there

loves and takes care of the animals on his island

particularly fond of birds

also a big plant person

loves growing plants and has them absolutely everywhere

they each have names and he will introduce you to all of them if you'd let him

really sweet but being alone for so long has warped his idea of love vs obsession

he's doing his best

literally no one else is around, so he isn't particularly jealous or concerned about someone stealing you from him

he is concerned about you leaving, though

so if you try to leave, he will come up with reasons for you to stay

will start with stuff like "oh there's going to be a storm later today" and later shift to more unsavory approaches

once again, never anything that physically harms you

but will go to other extreme lengths to make sure you never leave (or even want to leave)

he is a god so probably the most dangerous? but because of the situation that side would never really come out

because he would never directly hurt you or attempt to physically harm you

(kidnapping is on the table though if you are PERSISTENT about leaving + actively taking steps to leave + talking you out of it doesn't work)

but yeah he's a silly little guy who has been left alone for too long and is now slightly insane

he's still a sweetiepie though :)

a/n: sorry for all the delays. i keep getting swamped with more work :/ and have been working furiously on that

i will have more free time once that is done though so hopefully the real parts + requests will be out soon (i am delusional)

anyways, i can go more in depth on each character and other details about them i might have forgotten to mention or brushed over if y'all want. just let me know!

#ariadne's rambles - 🩷#ariadne's ocs - oliver northwood #ariadne's ocs - elliott snowe #ariadne's ocs - cal #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #male yandere #soft yandere

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thedarkestrivernymph · 14 hours ago

Text

A Heart Of Gold pt.2

Y! Noble Child Nicholas x Mother! Maid! Reader x Y! Maid Maria x Y! Baron Charles

word count: roughly 10k

warnings: heavy angst, mentions of abuse (both physical and verbal), mentions of death, murder, violence, gore, blood, yandere tendencies/behaviour, weird relationship dynamics, anger issues, morally gray reader, child loss, mentions of alcohol addiction, domestic violence, breakdowns, morally grey yanderes, creepy behaviour, generational trauma, religious themes, reader in this is christian, cursing, not accurate depictions of history!

Author's note: Phew, this turned out a very different than the initial idea I had. haha Still, hope you enjoy it!

“God, let me repent in your name. Allow me to witness the beauty and grace of nature, to cry and scream and know of my faults and erase them in your name. Let me love my neighbours, like you loved me. I will do only good, I promise, just grant me my new golden heart. Please, I beg you, free me.”

The seasons shifted again.

They morphed into the other, faster than you could blink, quicker than you could run after them and plead to stay, swift and merciless.

Death was the same.

Breathing in ice particles for air, snow crunching under the weight of your boots, you made your way down-hill. The sun hadn't come out yet, not that she really planned to anyways in the middle of winter—but the villagers were hopeful, at least tried to be. But you weren't. You knew frost had crusted the earth and left only destruction in its wake. The others were simply to optimistic. A bunch of idiots really, thinking this winter could be different, that the nobles would care about you, at least somewhat more, after the new baron had taken over the lands.

A new head only meant one thing; trouble and higher pay. The already scarce crops which were salvaged would only serve to fill his pockets. If you commoners were mindless worker ants, then the nobility sure enough were bloodsucking mosquitos draining you all until nothing but dust remained of your crumpling bones.

Perhaps you wouldn't have had to worry about any of this—not about your frozen solid fingertips from the worn-down knitted gloves nor about the burning in the bottom of your stomach from the lack of anything edible, if you just had not married him.

At first he had seemed promising, a nice clean face, good salary, stern tone—he had been a baker for god's sake, what could go wrong!

Oh how naive you had been.

Before you knew, heavily pregnant with your second, his bakery was in ruins, all the customers avoiding his bakery specifically like the plague. At first you were confused—he was a good baker and kept everything neat. Then he came drunk the first time. Reeking of cheep booze, he completely blacked out on your shared martial bed—which at that time at least had possessed a bedframe. You were furious with him, after all you were an only child and your parents had carefully picked him out, because of his financial status and now here he was wasting his money on alcohol while his baby was growing in your womb.

You couldn't break free from him, even after the birth of his second child, even after the tradegy of your first. Your wings were clipped—you were married, you had duties, responsibilities, children. Running away would only bring pain and shame upon you and your whole family. You didn't even want to imagine what the villagers would do to you if they found you after fleeing. All the blame would be placed on you—you the cruel mother, the miserable daughter, the horrible wife. Much rather, you would pluck your own hair than experience any of such shaming.

But death was a constant threat. And one that terrified you at that. After having closed down his bakery, you had been forced into work, anything you could find, really, anything that paid. Yet even that seemed to have not been enough for the monster your husband unraveled to be—because soon enough his explosive episodes started. He would roar and cry, stagger from wall to wall in your shared home, pant like a beast as he hunted after you, just to reach for your hair, clutching it as if he wanted to rip it out for you, before—

You hissed, digging your blunt nails into your scarf, this was in the past, he no longer could terrify you so. Keeping your gaze on the road on the pearly white snow reaching up to your knees you remembered to breathe, to calm down. You needed a crystal clear head for the interview.

No matter how much you wanted to melt away like the snow under the sun’s rays—which never seemed to grace you—you couldn't. Your life meant something to others, if you weren't there anymore, if you would actually choose to travel with the wind and disappear, then you would allow that man victory. But you just could not after having managed to slip through his grasp and land an opportunity at a new life.

So you walked, pushed through, even as you grimaced from the odd sensation of needles pricking your toes—your shoes not suitable for the weather, because nothing would stop you from at least trying for a better life. A life without him.

The estate was huge.

And admittedly, you were frazzled on how you managed to even land this job in the first place. If it weren't for Aunt Jane, you probably would've never even laid eyes on something so majestic, dressed in soft brown, winged windows and with elaborate woodwork and sculptures; it was a mix of everything you could only ever hear tales about.

Not that you minded, you did resent the nobility and the royals with all their spendings as if they didn't bleed you and the others dry on a daily to finance their overindulgence that was slowly leading the empire to ruin. Or at least you imagined it to be so.

Nevertheless grandmother surely would've scolded you for being so cynical. The only other person besides your aunt that you had known to be humane and she was six feet under your childhood home’s apple tree.

You sighed, shaking your head. This wasn't the time to be sentimental. She was dead, for years now. And you had moved on, like everyone did. So brushing over your skirt for the last time, you stepped even closer to the gate. God, even the gate was twirly and whimsical; something one could only achieve through the hands of a master with years of experience—or so you imagined, you had no clue actually.

“You—you the new maid?” you flinched, eyes darting to meet the eyes of a gruff man, armor covering him.

You nodded, eyes fixed on his face—really the only feature bare to the sight of others, which did make you wonder if he wasn’t cold with nothing protecting his nose or throat. Bennet, your little boy, if he had stood here instead of him, he surely would’ve caught a cold by now.

“Come. I ain’t got all day woman.” the stranger’s voice was as harsh as sandpaper, which did make you wonder if they provided him with meals or water at all. Odd. Weren’t soldiers—also guards usually the most well-taken care of? But also what did you know, really.

So scurrying, with a soft sigh and enlarged eyes you stepped past him and immediately you felt so out of place.

Carrying scars of a past similar to that of a lot of commoner’s yet pushing through a gate meant only for the elite—it felt wrong, illegal even, as if you were committing a crime. You looked over your shoulder hastily, suddenly overcome with trepidation, with the image of being tackled and shackled by the very guard who let you in. What if he had mistaken you, accused you of trespassing, what if your aunt had messed things up and your children would be left motherless and—

“Just follow the cobblestones, then turn left.” he grumbled, and you calmed again. Seems he got lazy with you, sensing you were not a threat—see, you didn’t need to worry. You weren’t a criminal, like some others commoners vying for the riches the wealthy withheld, you were just here for a job you desperately needed, no one had ever been thrown into prison for this, right? At least you hoped so.

The freshly fallen snow crunched under your shoes again, the same ones you always wore—with a big hole under the left heel. If you had more of what others had, such as the lord (even if you still resented the aristocracy) you hopefully would be working for, then you wouldn’t have to worry about this, in fact then you wouldn’t need any of this—no begging, no pleading, no kneeling. You would be independent, no need to rely on your fool for a husband, you could just cut him out of your life, or cut him off. Shivering at the thought you pulled your scarf much tighter, clenching your hands around eachother.

Little did you know that all of this was the starting point for a life of sin your soul had sworn to repent from.

The interview had went well—as well as it could for your circumstances that is. They wanted you to live here, in the servant's quarters, and nothing you did could change the old woman's mind. That meant leaving your child in the hands of your Aunt Jane.

You loved your Aunt, she was truly a saint—albeit overly strict at times and very ignorant, but she was old, too old for your liking and could never emate the same warmth your grandmother had. Sometimes, in rare cases such as these, you did wish your own grandmother would crawl out of her grave and fix everything for you—like how she used to when you were a child, brewing you tea from pines during the cold winter months while telling you tales of all kinds. You wished that she now would stand in front of you, promising you that everything you were doing would benefit your darling and that he could truly flourish and live a life he deserved.

Because your sole reason in life was your child—your little pearl with his red runny nose, sniffling with each spoon-fed of his soup. You just craved to abandon all the shadows of the past.

Yet life wasn’t gentle with you neither then nor now—God seemed to really not favour you as one of its pawns, because why else would you be assigned to take care of the most bratty child you had ever met?

“Water.” the new heir, to pratically everything, snapped, voice smoother and deeper, not betraying his juvenile features and his childish antics you had learned and grown accustomed to in the few weeks you had been working here.

Swiftly, you poured him a cup of water, handing it to him with a somewhat strained smile. It was a warmer day than usual, which was why the window of his study was left wide open—and your teeth made to chatter the whole time you tried to serve and appease him.

Only, it seemed, that nothing could appease the brown-haired young man this morning, because in the blink of an eyes a glass shattered next to your head, making you jump up in surprise. Suddenly your pulse was pounding in your ears and for a moment you were back in that small hut again next to the river, with the face of your husband red from anger and the shattered bottle laying at your feet like the pieces of your broken heart, as your baby was crying. Why was he crying? Unconsolable and—

“Are you trying to poison me?” you snapped out of it as he spat out the words. Swallowing you tried to come up with an excuse, something to calm the storm in him.

“Master Nicholas of course I wasn’t—”

“Then serve me water instead of lukewarm piss!”

Silence.

Your face fell—you weren’t sure if it was due to exhaustion or just having to endure his childishness or it was the possibility that if he continued to complain about every single thing you did, you would lose your job. And you couldn’t have that, no matter how much you resented him for being as explosive as the man who's name you refused to utter, he was an aristocrat and not him.

So sighing, collecting the remains of yourself, you did what you always had done when your own mother used to have meltdowns due to delirium in her old age—gift her with love she didn't deserve but this time it was directed to a (man)child who you at least assumed to deserve it—because a mother's love was something sacred.

You hugged him.

It wasn't really a conscious decision per se, you had just wanted to show him some love; but to pull him into your embrace—you hadn't thought that you actually would dare to; not just out of courage but be able to stomach touching one of the upper class, who most definitely thought commoners and even servants were on the same level as pigs; stupid and dirty, probably carrying some time of diseases.

That's why you had dreadfully expected him to push you away, to scream to cry out in revulsion, perhaps even raise his hand against you; he was allowed to after all—yet nothing.

He froze instead.

“Maid—” he didn't even know your name, didn’t need to. You were just a fly; someone he could swat away with the back of his hand and no one would bat an eye. And you had the audacity to hug him, you, how dare you, you vile, little, tiny ant. His hands raised, clenching into fists, teeth grinding together in absoloute annoyance and yet he couldn't find it in himself to push you away.

Your arms, your beating heart; something about you was human. Oddly human. Much more human than he ever could be. And then your scent engulfed him. Moss and wet—like the open fields. Warm and motherly—like her.

He failed to take notice of you pulling away. His gaze was glossy, something was pinching his chest and he was disturbed. It hurt. Your touch itself and also the absence of your touch was agonizing.

“I apologize, I overstepped.” anxiety rung in your tone, lips pressed into a thin line. He knew that look, the fear of losing something precious—the fear of having ruined another banquet because he had smashed a teacup to the ground. And the fear he felt now, as you slipped back to being a remote figure; a background character, you wanted to fade away from between his fingers like sand, disappear in the billions of your kind when he had finally sighted something of his liking.

“I—” he cleared his throat, scowl moving back into place—the noble façade returning after the too often happening slip-ups. “I will excuse you this once.”

Yet no matter how much he tried to hide it, you took notice of the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth, but you didn’t give it much thought, much more relived to be allowed to continue working here.

If only you had suspected something— if only you had known what you had awakened in Nicholas on that fateful day.

You met the lord of the house some time after.

It was an accident really, you hadn't even meant to be on the staircase at such a dubious hour—it all had been just for Nicholas; he requested you to bring him warm soup and bread after refusing to eat dinner with his aunt, for reasons that made your chest ache and tighten in guilt.

Still you froze, clutching the tray in your sweaty palms, hoping and praying that he wouldn't demand of you to know who you were rushing the tray to—you were beyond exhausted, just having returned from the village; travelling by foot took up time and patience and it only broke your heart every single time to leave your baby behind in the hands of someone else; especially in the hands of a woman as old as Aunt Jane was. You were guilty of being a bad mom, you knew as much, but Bennett was so easily frightened and you weren’t allowed to take him in and—

“Are you new?”

You froze.

Just having passed by him, in hopes he wouldn't take notice of you, you truly had believed he would just let you slip by. At least you had wished he would. You didn't want to converse with another soul, especially not a man with a voice similary deep to that of your deadbeat husband's.

Still you had to say something. You couldn't just flitter away.

So you opened up your mouth.

“Yes, your lordship.” you recited the title you had been taught.

“Who hired you? I have never seen you before.” his tone was demanding, clipped and stern, but there was a soft edge to it, that made you take a peek back over your shoulder, only to startle at the sight. He was standing a few stairs below you, stoic as a statue and with a face hidden by the shadows of the night, the castle only dim-light by the tea-lamp in his grasp held too far away from his features to make anything out—except the penetrating stare you could feel slicing through you; judging and scrutinizing you.

Calm down, you're not a criminal. You're just doing your job.

You turned around, bowing your head and glancing away—somehow showcasing submission felt the right thing to do.

“The head maid, your lordship.”

“Ah.” you could hear some tension slip. “Good.” he probably nodded and you assumed he was finished with his questions until you heard him clear his throat, stepping closer.

“Do you work in the kitchen?” he took another step up, until you both stood on the same step.

“No, your lordship, I serve the young lord.” you answered while feeling his breath blow at your forehead—was it just you or was he standing too close?

“I see.” again with the stern yet awkward answer, as if he himself wasn't sure what more to ask—as it already was obvious that you weren't a robber nor a thief, just a servant working dutifully as he expected of them.

Yet there was something about you, a certain something emanating from you that just made him—

Time seemed to stand still and he with it after he leaned forward, nose so close to your crown it nearly bumped into it.

Sniff.

Was he—was he sniffing you?

You face immediately morphed into abject horror, worried that you stunk, you had been travelling all day and that mostly by foot. You gritted your teeth, cheeks flush with colour, ashamed; not having considered the possibility of sweat sticking to you like a foul-smelling perfume.

“Unbelievable.” he murmured, mumbling more to himself than you really. You could see his right hand, the one without the lamp, twitch as if he was tempted to reach out to you.

“You smell exactly like—” he cut himself off, and his features morphed into something unreadable as you stole a few glances at his face.

And before anything else could unfold he was gone, having sprinted down the stairs to god-knows where, having left you puzzled and confused by his reaction. Finally continuing to climb up the stairs you started to conclude that the entire nobility had to be weird people that were oddly obsessed with smell.

Life slowly but surely took some shape—as some sort of routine settled.

Even with how often you were stuck between work as a maid and being a mother, pendling between the manor and the village as often as you were allowed to, you still somehow felt more put together than before. As if each piece of you was slowly glued back together; as if God slowly saw you too and each of your prayers, one by one, would slowly be answered by him. And all came with the arrival of Spring; endless hope bloomed in your chest for a better world—for a less burdened life.

Yet your momentary happiness was ripped away again, replaced by somberness because what the fuck, god?

What was, she doing here?

Your childhood nemesis, as childish as it sounded—the girl who was always smarter, prettier, better than you, so much so that your mom couldn't shut up about it; Maria.

“(Y/n)!” she chirped, voice like nails against a chalkboard.

She repeated your name again—chanted it like a prayer that would be whispered under one's breath in sermons on sunday mornings. Only hers sounded like she was trying to summon something evil that would split the word apart—or at least your head, because it was buzzing in pain from her nagging tone.

“For God's sake Maria! What is it?” you clutched the edge of the kitchen table, huffing in exasperation, having just spent the last five minutes listening to her call your name while you were busy preparing the Master's dinner. A vein was surely about to pop out of your forehead, because this woman just giggled in response and painfully stupid at that.

“What’s with the sour face?” she chuckled, resting her cheek on her palm, black streaks of hair falling over her shoulders because she—like everyone else besides you and the lord's son—was already ready for bed.

“I am trying to haste! And you're chatting my ear off again—.” you quiped, gaze narrowing at her like you usually did when you were disapproving of something—hoping you managed to look as intimidating as your grandma did back then when she had caught you with your entire fist in the jar of strawberry jam. “Besides, why are you still up? You should be off to bed, shift starts early as always.” hopefully she would take the hint and leave.

Instead, she laughed.

Of course she would. Like she laughed when she stole your favourite red ribbon when you both were eight.

“You’re still up and I don't see anyone scolding you for it. So why is it wrong when I do it?” she snickered, truly the bane of your existence, especially because she slipped off of the chair, in her nightgown—shamelessly; she was not worrying about one of the others, let alone the lord, seeing her like this. Actually, scratch that, she probably wanted him to see her like this.

“Come on, you're so tired all the time, I thought I would offer you some of my company.” she drew closer, until her breath rung loudly in your ear, and her piercing blues for eyes slithered over you like a serpent’s tail.

“Laughing keeps young. You should laugh more.” she observed and it almost felt like a threat— she wanted you to react, to show visibly whatever it is that she managed to evoke in you.

You recoiled from the proximity, almost spooked by the sudden closeness. If it weren't for the wooden crucifix dangling from your neck, you almost would've feared that she was a demoness with those piercing eyes of hers. But even if she wasn't, her eyes still betrayed evil buried so deep in her core that you could only shudder and the snappy words you usually would retort with died on your tongue. She always had been weird, but it somehow was only more unsettling seeing her act the same way as a grown woman.

“I—I really should haste.” you were quick to pick up the tray you had finished preparing and even quicker to leave, without looking back at her even once.

Well, perhaps it had been for the better, because if you had looked back you would have seen the wet muscle of her mouth flicking out of its enclosure to lick over where you just touched on the counter.

You, the girl who's ribbons she had stolen, who's knitted scarf she would inhale when you weren't looking—just another kid from the neighbourhood but you were so much more than that, so much more to her. You the woman who clung so pathetically to religion, hiding behind it, when you both knew about the kiss at nine. Only you seemed to have forgotten—but she hadn’t.

Often times dealing with the young lord was bone-scraping work. Hard, exhausting, as if you were plucking weeds from the crops instead of following him like a shadow.

Somehow at some point, you had migrated from being just a maid to being only his personal maid, aiding him with everything. Truly puzzling, yet somehow endearing—because maybe you were too prideful and cocky, but you liked to imagine your own little Bennett growing into such a fine young man as Master Nicholas (only appearance-wise). He was lean, tall with a fair face and soft brown curls that were reminiscent of your own child’s wild locks (even if it was the one feature his father had passed down, you still found it endearing).

But truth be told, maybe that's why you were so inclined to serve Master Nicholas with more softness than you usually would—not just out of fear and respect of the wealthy, not because the thought of losing this job would send you spiraling into a meltdown.

“Maid” his voice was startling, as usual. Maybe it was because it did not match his youthful face or maybe he would bark at you like a dog to command you around.

“Yes, Master Nicholas.” you addressed him, staying put on your spot next to the window overlooking the estate—the snow had melted by now. You wondered if Aunt Jane would allow him to play in the snow before it completely faded. Bennett would surely be upset if he had to wait a whole year to feel the ‘potato milk’ he had called it as a two-year old. The term still made you crack a smile even now.

“What are you looking at?” he startled you again; you hadn't notice him getting up to his feet and dragging himself closer to you—steps heavy against the creaking floorboard of his study. “You seem so—” he continued only to quiet down and come to stand an arm length away from you.

You glanced at him, waiting patiently for him to finish—even when all you craved to do was think about your little baby. But even as you gave him all the time he needed, the end of his sentence never came, instead he huffed and leaned against the wall joining you in on your habit of looking out the window with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

His eyes darted over the landscape—noticing the returning of the splendor of birds in the garden.

“Ugly birds.” he spat, “they're thieves.” he was glaring down at the magpie’s dancing around in the garden, flying from branch to branch and picking at the grass.

Your eyes flicked to him, then they averted back down. “At least they're free.” your muttered and your finger instinctively touched your ring finger—it was a simple band of metal, something cheap but something so binding it felt suffocating, as if you dared to pull it off of your finger you would be cursed, even if you hated the burden marriage laid on your shoulders.

“Free?” he looked over at you—really looked at you, scanning you from head to toe, then scoffed. “So you aren't free, maid?” he still hadn't bothered to learn your name, perhaps never would, but his eyes belied real softness underneath his constructed politeness.

“I thought father was more lenient with you servants.” he furrowed his brows, green eyes a shade darker—growing upset at the lord.

“No, Master Nicholas!” you quickly cut in, not wanting to cause dispute between father and son, startled that he was even able to make our your senseless mumbling.

“His lordship is a fair in his handling with us servants. You needn’t to worry.” you claimed surprising even yourself—but to some extent it was true. You never thought you would side with a noble, but here you were defending the lord’s honour; because truth be told he geninuely didn’t seem like a bad man, but he seemed like a strange man.

“Are you certain?” he blurted, insisting oddly enough. How atypical of him when he was usually apathic to everything not concerning him.

“Yes, Master Nicholas.” you nodded, a strained smile on your face, when you only could smile at Bennett earnestly with a clear conscious—and without betraying god. Still some things had to be done. It gets the job done. You could recall your grandmother saying each time before she whipped out the same old rag to clean the floors, that was barely on; only throughdreams and prayers alone. So yes, it wasn’t truthful, but it got the job done.

So stillness took over you both again and you truly believed he wouldn’t initate a conversation with you again.

“Call me Nicholas.” it seems you were wrong.

“Master Nicholas I can't—” your eyes had grown wide.

“Call me by my name.” he demanded again, his narrowed.

You swallowed thickly. This was definitely crossing some sort of boundaries—nobility and commoner's shouldn't mix, shouldn't be too familiar you both knew that, yet he still asked of you the impossible, insisting even. But seeing his softened gaze—the longing and craving for affection, the same way Bennett would look at you whenever you had to part from him—begging you to stay with him, you couldn’t let a word of protest slip from your tight throat. Your heart felt scorching hot in your chest and your tongue heavy as lead. God, please don’t let me lose this job.

“Nicholas.” you let his name slip—it felt odd, it was bare without the title.

He didn't say anything anymore after. And you would've assumed it was because of indifference if it wasn't for the cocky smile that spread across his lips.

Oh, if you just had known that he didn't just feel satisfied at the little trick that he played on you—that actually his heart beat a drum faster when you called him that. That he felt little shocks of electricity zap at his skin and run down his spine.

You just had confirmed it,

—that you were like her, his deceased mother, but so much better. You were like the mother he had always wanted, the one that was quiet, loving and nurturing, who was there for him, showed emotion, behaved like a human rather than someone with a stick up their ass. You may have smelled like her, like the open fields and woods she so loved more than anything else, including him, but you weren’t her and for that he was forever grateful, because—

you were beneath him.

You would have to do whatever he wanted. Whether it was accompanying him, bringing him dinner, calming him down from one of his meltdowns or sleeping together with him in his bed like he always wanted his mother to do.

He could keep you here with him.

For him you were just another dog on a leash anyways.

A week had passed by now, and you had grown accustomed to calling him by his first name, albeit only in private, for obvious reasons that is.

Only it seemed that his father still caught wind of it, because why else would the lord of the house specifically request you into his study, a frown on his face, his scrutinizing dark brown gaze travelling over your form.

“So,” he cleared his throat and you were screaming internally—you couldn't lose this position, you needed it, desperately so, your child need it. You couldn't start from zero again, being a servant for a noble paid better than most other jobs and even provided you with the meals and the housing—the Baron couldn’t just throw you out because of the request his child had made! At least you hoped he wouldn’t.

“—I heard my son favours you.” he blurted out, his words felt like a good lashing with a belt that made you want to recoil.

“I wouldn't know, your lordship.” you were quick to answer, hot in the face, blunt nails digging into your palms, hoping, praying, pleading with God that he wouldn't throw you out. That he was as nice as you thought he was; that he would continue to prove you wrong about the secret evil of the wealthy.

He paused, looked at you and the longer the silence between you stretched on the more you felt stifled by the threat looming over you like a shadow you couldn't shake off.

You couldn’t stand it anymore, so you spoke up.

“Please I—”

“Your presence is doing him good.” his voice cut yours down and you lowered your head, heart beating against your ribcage rapidly, he was going to— Wait.

What?

“Your lordship? Pardon?” you blinked. It seems that the years spend on this earth hadn’t made you much wiser because you were baffled by his comment.

He sighed, ascending from his seat to step in front of his desk. Clad in his usual sade suit crossed his arms over his chest and let his eyes were stray from your figure.

“I want you to continue as you are. You know, his mother passed away when he was young and it has,” he paused, “affected him since.” he finished putting emphasis on the last words while leaving out that affected meant Nicholas’ emotions being all over the place; so much so that one moment he could be calm and the next he would trash his entire study. But you didn't blame the lord for not elaborating, admitting such a thing was probably ashaming.

“I understand, your lordship.” you replied, heart heavy now for another reason as the fear faded—every child deserved a mother. Your own hadn't been the one for you, emotionally neglecting you, yet your grandmother had. So you sympathised with him; perhaps nannies had tried to fill the void, but they never quiet could've, not like a mother could at least. Maybe that’s why a part of you had been searching for something more—maybe that’s why a piece of you had been missing until Bennett was born.

“I will be there for him.” you replied. No matter how insufferable you had assumed the upper class to be— and truth be told they were — there were still human, as you, nothing but your worth differentiated you from them. They were just born better; richer, with more possibilities at hand, but Nicholas' life of hardship proved to you that even born with a golden spoon in one’s mouth, one’s soul could harbour hunger.

And somehow this made you feel closer to him. Initially you had feared him because he had reminded you of your dreaded husband you had fled from, but slowly you realized that he was like you in a sense; of your childhood self. His gaze would often mimic Bennett’s disappointment everytime you had to leave. In a way, you felt relieved at the lord’s encouragment, seen and acknowledged but to also supported to offer a fraction of your love to Nicholas too.

A smile stretched across your lips—not a fake one this time.

“That’s—”he exhaled, slumping sideways ever so slighty, with gentle curls slicked back, “that’s good to hear, (Y/n).”

You let your smile widen and eyes soften. His visible relief felt rewarding and his words bordering on praise were flustering. Everything about the lord was stern but gentle, a walking contradiction some might say, but somehow it just made sense for him to be this way—a baron, a lord to his people and servants reigning over his land with a firm hand yet a loving father, tender in the way he would speak about his heir’s battered soul. He would’ve been a man grandmother would’ve liked.

As the words died down on the both of your tongues, you awaited him to dimiss you. However he didn’t, in fact he didn’t even move—still as a statue. So you took it upon yourself to inquire whether you should leave him alone in the privacy of his study.

“If that was all, shall I take my leave now, your—”

“Do you—”he paused, “do you wear perfume?”

Your brows scrunched up.

Oh God no, not again. Did you perhaps stink again like that night. Hopefully not, because if you did, you would start to scrub every layer of your attire—from chemise to the outer layer of your skirt.

“No, your lordship.” you answered thickly. God, you hoped you didn’t smell of sweat.

“I see.” he answered ambigously, not comfirming nor denying your worries. Besides, he should know that you as a servant could hardly afford such a luxury—so was he actually mocking you, telling you to wear perfume? You hoped that it was just an odd fixation that all nobles beheld and not the latter.

“You’re dismissed.” he finally exclaimed and you felt relief. Quietly you stood up, nodding politely, before turning on your heel and exiting his study.

Oh, only if you knew how enticing you actually smelled to him. Like Juliane, but with something motherly and tenderly sticking to you, a better version of his deceased wife. A commoner, so ignorant to the life of nobility, that wasn’t even aware of how her features tugged into different directions every second, so unsued to using titles that he could tell you sometimes were about to slip-up and not address him properly.

You were remisicent of his first love; love that was fiery and strong, but you were like the spring, a budding rose with dull thorns. He felt the aching pang of love in his chest whenever your startled gaze met his and that scared Charles. To think his heart would start beating again after a decade—and that for nothing but a maid. He knew he had to be sensible, love was fictious in the life of the upper class and to experience such a gift for the second time was laughable.

But if that love was you — someone so sweet, even his own son started to soften around the edges— then maybe he could induldge himself a tad; enjoy life a little with you by his side.

Yeah, Charles would like to enjoy this life together with you, after forced to experience this perputel loneliness for nearly a decade. Maybe you two could even gift Nicholas a little sibling in the future, only after having slipped a ring of your finger that is.

Yeah, he would like to indluge. After all, one was only born once, right?

Life was sweeter now—not as sweet as the cherries you would pick in secret from the neighbour’s tree at seven or the first taste of sugar you ever had at twelve, but it was worthwhile.

Especially with your little toddler sticking to you like glue; Aunt Jane had brought him here to visit you, after having whined the entire last week because of you failing to visit him again. So your clever little boy had suggested that he just visited you.

“Mommy, you live here?�� you chuckled softly at the awe in his voice.

“I work here, Ben’.” you replied, smiling at the familiar face of the guard, nodding at you.

“So that's the little lad.” the man you had learned was Jonathan and surprisingly younger than you by a few years—which his broad shoulders and gruff voice would never hint at.

You nodded looking down at your child as he babbled a greeting to the guard. Now you were standing a tad straighter, eyes softening as your grandmother’s always used to and as your mother’s never had for you.

You were transfixed with your own little one; standing there next to you, finally close to you with a heart you knew hadn’t felt agony the same way yours had. So your mind wandered off and you questioned if he ever would experience what you had, but you knew he wouldn’t, because you simply wouldn’t allow fate to be this cruel to him as it had been to you. God was still listening to your prayers afterall. And suddenly you couldn't help but imagine Bennett grown up, flourished into a strong man as Jonathan with broad shoulders and biceps that could make anyone shudder in fear or perhaps like the lord himself, with a clipped tone yet a soft gaze and presence that was overwhelming.

“Good day to you too lad.” he nodded at your little extension, watching how proud you were of him—and he had to admit he liked it. The smile on your face was sweeter than the scent of flowers hanging in the air and your little buddy was shyly adorable. He offered you another one of his own smiles that inevitably ended up looking grim, while you both passed by him to disappear into the manor and leave him to sigh to himself again.

“Mommy—Mommy look that looks like a person!” was the first thing that left Bennett’s mouth, brown curls bouncing up and down with his jumps, big-eyed fascination clear across his face as he stared at the oil painting of the lord and his son hung up on the staircase. Even though you were feeling bleak from all the unfortunate circumstances, your soul ripping apart that you had been forced to neglect your son for so long— you couldn’t help but chuckle at his enthusiasm feeling warmth spread in you from the fact that your baby was with you in the moment.

“Shh, quieter Ben’.” you scolded him as you grabbed his tiny fist, leading him towards the kitchen, worried someone might take notice. You didn’t want to get yourself into trouble—and because you knew how strict the head maid could be, you lead your little boy into the kitchen.

However the moment you entered you wished you hadn’t because for the love of god, what was she again doing here, just loitering around; doing absolutely the bare minimum.

“If that isn’t my most favourite person ever!” she immediately chirped, as she usually did, stopping chewing on the piece of pastry in her hands to round the courner of the counter, adamant on annoying you on her short lunchbreak as always with the fattest grin anyone could have on their face—only to gasp.

“What—” her eyes widened, almost dropping her meal.

“What, what is that?” she pointed at your child as if he was a weirdly coloured bug that had slipped in. Unbelievably crude and rude.

“That's my son, Maria.”

“Your son? That's Ben you can't shut up about?” she grimaced and you felt your eye twitch, because you had mentioned him once in her presence.

“Bennett for you.” you were tempted to roll your eyes, picking your son up to sit him down on one of the many empty fruit boxes, perfect to be used as a chair. Maria just stared at you funnily.

“Do you want something Ben’? Mommy can make you anything you want.” you smiled at him, and somehow, in some way this just felt right. And for a moment you fantasised that this nice kitchen was yours—that this home was only yours and Bennett's. That you were free.

And then Maria’s obnoxiously loud stomping snapped you out of it again and you threw her a dirty look as she left the kitchen to do god-knows-what.

Only unbeknownst to you, not only the black-haired little snake and a few other maids, which were either adoring or annoyed caught you, but also the lord's heir—the one searching for you almost frantically, because you had not come when you usually would.

Where were you?

He was hurrying down the stars, frenzied, desperately searching for you—you were practically promised to him now; promised to stay by his side day-in-day out. You were just a servant for fuck’s sake—you didn't and shouldn't have autonomy to just anything. Could a dog walk without its owner? No. So where the fuck where you—

That's when he caught sight of you in the kitchen, with a little demon by your side, making you smile and yap so sweetly that it could rot teeth.

Straining his memory to figure out what that leech was that made you beam in a way that you never had at him before in the entire year you had been working here—his anger only heightened the moment he finally remembered.

”Oh, my little Ben absolutely loves..”

That's your kid.

Your child; this little ant.

How dare he, an insufferable brat, who probably still shits himself from time to time, dare consume your attention so entirely that you would neglect your duties and dote on something so tiny and powerless compared to him.

Why was it him, this fool, this insufferable little devil that took you—why couldn’t your eyes soften as much as when they laid on him. It was unfair, criminal. He was the heir to the entire land his father had inherited from his grandpa and to think with all the influence he held you would still go and pick a toddler over him was maddening. To think that you another insect scurrying around together with all the others could dare to be picky.

No, he was lying. You weren’t just another insect, you were his mom-to-be.

“Mother.” he spat under his breath, knuckles white from how tightly he clutched the pearls of his actual deceased mother's in his hand—he had specifically fished them out of her jewellery box that sat abandoned in one of the many rooms of the manor to gift you them but now here he was watching you betraying him.

“I have lost a mother once.” he was slowly ripping the poor necklace apart—the band holding on for dear life.

“I won’t lose one twice.” the pearls all spilled to the ground like blood.

So he laid a curse on you; one so cruel that you wouldn't have any other choice but to accept your rightful position as his dog.

Just you wait and see.

---♡---

Life sometimes developed in strange ways, did it not? Because you never would've imagined to sit with Jonathan under a cherry blossom tree.

The summer was fading and cold, cruel days were arriving, but somehow everything felt much better this way. It felt right. This fragile understanding of affection—you were glad the colder days would put some distance between the two of you, force you to part, because after the young man had confessed to you, you couldn't help but feel the flattery get to your head—allowing yourself to wish and long for something unattainable.

“I—” awkwardly clearing his throat he looked over at you, “I want you, m’lady.” scratching the back of his neck, he looked down.

“I am big and strong. My position is stable--my salary isn't half bad. I am quite a catch.” he declared cockily, with his chest puffed out proudly, trying to feign arrogance, when you knew he was nothing but a puppy in love.

You couldn't help but chuckle, “Jonathan, you're sweet, but--” you protested half-heartedly, more amused than anything. Mostly because you both knew you were officially still married.

“No—no, lady! I am serious, as I am about my feelings for ya.” you found his drawl endearing and found your fave heating up the moment he leaned closer, the lines on his forehead deepening.

“Stop laughing m’lady!” you couldn't help but laugh—it was comical how he kept on addressing you as if you were noble yourself, as if you were above him.

“Just tell me what to do, so you'll believe me.” you didn't say anything anymore, instead you just smiled bashfully as he kissed your knuckles before fleeing inside again.

But, it seems luck despised you because father like son, Charles was glaring down at the scene from his study, feeling his heart rip at the sight of another man vying for your hand, while another already had bound you in marriage.

It wasn't fair, why was everyone getting a piece of you, why were you giving everyone something to cherish but you let him starve?

He so desperately wanted you, he craved you, but unlike his son, he would never take anything forcibly, especially not you a delicate rose with blunt thorns. Rather he would wait for all the flies around you to die by themselves so that your soul could find its way back to his, where it rightfully belonged to.

---♡---

No.

You refused this reality.

This couldn't be happening.

Crying nor screaming changed what had occured; you had murdered your child with your own two hands. All because you couldn’t take him with you, make him stay close to you.

Still you had tried to lie to yourself. To believe and to fantasize that your baby somehow could be well without you. You had hoped that your husband—as horrid as he was—at least would never reach him; never get too close to your treasured pearl, but he did. He managed to tear everything down and he took Bennett with him; he dragged him back into the lion’s den only to let his own son rot like a beggar out on the streets.

You had hoped. You had prayed daily, trusting god. But trust alone just wasn’t enough.

It never was.

He had died because of you—because you were stupid, foolish and worse than your own mother. Your grandmother would’ve died a second time if she had witnessed you now—a vile excuse for a human; picking up the cold corpse of her child, of a toddler with chubby cheeks that now were icy to the touch.

Tears brimmed at your eyes and you wondered if they would wet your cheeks first or your heart would shatter first—frail like glass. Memories flushed back into your head. Willow had died in your hands too—sick and frail as a baby, but Bennett, he had been a lively child, sticking to you like glue no matter how lithe he was. He was alive—had been alive for god’s sake! And now—now his chest didn’t rise anymore.

He was gone.

And it was your fault.

Until you sighted the man who had driven you away from your babies—who had inevitably caused their deaths.

So who could blame you now? An eye for an eye—wasn’t this what priests preached; wasn’t this god’s holy words? So as any good mother would do, following nothing but instinct, you followed the path of the holy to succumb to sin.

You tackled him—it was easier than you thought it would be. He was still weary; having just awoken from a drunken slumber, peacefully snoring away while your baby had lost the battle to a fever, that would’ve needed care and attention to heal; but it could have subsided, he could have lived. The only reason he was dead was this monster under you, now starting to struggle—roaring at you to get off. But the knife was already secure in your hand.

You had found it in the kitchen; it was a big butcher’s knife, one that your mother’s mother and her mother had owned to slice through a chicken’s neck like butter.

“Hey—what are you doing? Get off me you madwoman!” he yelped and cried, nearly managing to throw you off and tumble forward before you could swing. Nearly.

But as you had been too late, he also was, and the blade sliced through his neck without any resistance, tearing almost through everything.

He was dead before he could blink.

Still, you dropped the blade on his throat a few times more—just for good measures really—until his head rolled off; empty as it was, spilling all it was worth on the ground.

For a moment all you did was pant and stare, now he was just a shell spilling crimson in gallons, his blood your tears.

You stared until you couldn't anymore, until bile rised in your throat and you scrambled to your feet gagging.

Stumbling over him, skirt drenched in red and the floor slippery you crashed back to your knees, clawing your way back to your child like a mole, trying to navigate through the blurring of your sight. Yet the moment you felt his cold hand you cradled him, clutching him like a lifeline—like if you pressed him close enough to your own heart, his would start beating too like a match sharing its flame with another.

Even if all you wanted was to embrace and mourn your little boy, there was something inside of you—a certain fire, a nagging in the back of your head that screamed at you to get up, to get moving, that not all hope was lost yet.

And so you were quick to scramble to your feet, disoriented like a lamb but staggering forward and out the door. The wind whipped at you—untangled your scarf from you. It was winter, the north wind bitter cold, yet he couldn’t affect you, nothing could and the snow that had risen to your ankles inevitably bloomed in red with each of your steps as you continued to push through, to drag your feet forward, agains the bellowing howls of the wind. Your hands were red too, everything was, but what made you cry out was the filthy colour staining your baby. How dare he. To dirty him even in death, monster.

You were going to safe your son from the paw’s of his father that extended even death, you would bring him to safety and that safety was the manor—the only place where you once had felt warmth blossom in your chest that had beheld a functioning heart.

The walk was long, it took an hour. A whole hour out in the cold, ice nipping at your skin, and snowflakes decorating your hair—but all that didn't matter, it couldn't matter if it meant a way to save him. The lord was a powerful man, he could summon a doctor knowledgeable enough to save Bennett—you were sure of it. He would save your baby.

Yet, by the time you arrived, having left terrified figures behind you, the guard at the gait immediately jumped forward.

“Fuck (Y/n)!” Jonathan spat in surprise, eyes round in terror.

“What happened to you? Are you hurt? Did someone attack you? What is it him?—” and he would've demanded more, already reaching out to touch your shoulder, if he hadn't seen little Bennett in your arms—pale as snow and frozen on the spot. Something was deeply disturbing about the picture of the little boy in your bloodied arms and the longer he stared the more his hand trembled.

“He—” he started but cut himself off with a look at your face. He was worried, terrified for you.

While he could do nothing but stare in shock —like all the villagers you met on your way had looked at you—you slipped into the garden, striding forward to the manor, only hearing panicking behind you accompanied with heavy stomping after you slipped through the front door; already inside. And nothing could stop you from bringing your son back to life.

Fear was a stranger now.

So you climbed up the stairs and burst into the baron’s study unprompted, with no use of the usual manners you portrayed.

“Please—” you were quiet, so quiet you feared he wouldn’t take notice of you.

But it wasn’t just the lord, Nicholas was also standing there consumed in a lively discussion until you entered and both of their heads whipped towards you, eyes immediately widening.

“He’s stopped breathing. I don't know why—he was just laying on the floor without moving. I have tried everything, but he just doesn’t want to wake up, please, I don’t know what to do anymore and—” you were a broken machine, only able to repeat yourself over and over again, in hopes they could read between the lines of your anguish; that they could decipher your pleading for a doctor, even if you were just a maid. And even if your life was worth nothing compared to them, Bennett’s life was something worth to you and you hoped that they could see that. That even if your child was a commoner as you, he was worth the world.

“What happened?” the lord was the first one to speak up. He stepped close enough to look at the boy in your arms.

“Why are you drenched in blood? Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you? You look pale as a ghost. Where are you bleeding—” Nicholas questions rained down on you, yet you could do nothing but stare into his father's eyes, ignoring his fuzzing.

Slowly, the lord outstretched his arms.

“Come. I will help. Give him to me.” he urged, shutting Nicholas up.

You didn’t want to. This was Bennett, your little boy, a seed that had sprung from you and had grown under your wing and to hand him over to someone else, while the same blood pumped through our veins seemed odd; cruel even. But this was the lord, wasn’t he—he was kind, understanding and your only flimmer of hope. Only he could save your baby, your Ben.

So you let him take the one thing of value in your life; your child.

And that's when your world’s edges blurred and foreign arms wrapped around you.

“Mother—” yor sweet baby was talking to you. At least you heard his voice one last time.

“Don’t worry, you’re safe now mother.”

Only you didn't pass.

But your soul had.

“Bennett?” you were calling out for him until your throat was raw, but he never came.

“Mother, calm, I am here. It's alright mother. Your son is here.” Nicholas muttered again, chanting the string of words like a mantra, as if they would ring true when reached a certain number of repetition, as if you would magically start believing in them after a certain time.

“We’re here for you, love.” the lord muttered, calling himself Charles, telling you it was fine to mourn to cry and rage, but that you had a new family now. And that this new one would ensure your utmost happiness till the end of time. Everything was so bizarrely confusing—and all you wanted to do was scream.

Maria was ominously around you too; always in the shadows, serving you, whispering to you when she would hand you a glass of water and wipe your sweat-covered face, trying to awaken from yet another nightmare.

Yet no one mentioned Bennett. No one even spoke his name; it was like a taboo, almost like his mention would curse you all.

You prayed harder and stronger, yet no one ever heard you, or seemed to care. Nicholas grip never loosened on you, he never stopped calling you mom and the baron not once failed to call his beloved—and both expected you to wear it like a badge of honour when all you wanted was to reunited with your child.

Finally you concluded that God had abandoned you long ago.

Just this time, please, don’t let me be reborn again.

#A Heart Of Gold #yandere #yandere story #male yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere stories #yandere oc #platonic yandere #yandere writing #yandere ocs #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #female yandere #Iamsorry #angst

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pinkiemachine · 22 hours ago

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Hi- it's the anon who asked about potential Dami love interests. I'd LOVE to hear more!!!

*cracks knuckles*

Dear little Damian is a troubled soul, and sadly he takes after both his parents. A travesty, I know. When trying to root around the comics and surrounding media for that one perfect love interest that everyone agrees on, I didn’t find anything except maybe Flatline, but even that’s not unanimous, and I myself am part of the reason it’s not unanimous. When I thought about it reeeally hard, I realised why the idea of putting Damian in a relationship at all has felt so tricky up until now. In short: kid’s messed up and probably shouldn’t be dating at all. A travesty, I know.

But I didn’t let that stop me!

I’m just kidding, I did, BUT THEN I had a BETTER idea!

Ahem, ahem…

Chapter 1:

In my AU, the story goes like this: Damian had never given love a second thought. He was told that one day he would need to marry to continue the Al Ghul bloodline, but nothing more. Actually, it was entirely possible that he would wind up in an arranged marriage, so it was something he really, really hadn’t bothered to think about. Then, when he turned 14, he joined the Teen Titans as their leader and met Princess Amethyst. Heir to the throne of Gemworld, temporarily on Earth due to story shenanigans, but must go back home eventually to reclaim her kingdom.

Amethyst (or Amy) became a member of the TT shortly after arriving on Earth, and at first, Damian purely saw her as an underling, but Amethyst, oh, she didn’t stand for that. See, she was raised in the courts of the Gem Palace. She had received the best education money could buy, she had been personally tutored in magic since the age of four, and she was a well-bred young lady. Whenever Damian wanted to, he got lippy and snarky and smarter-than-you toward just about anyone, but when he did it to Amy, he got back what he served and then some. Amy didn’t shrink from his angry, snide tone, she didn’t hesitate when he got philosophical or witty, she could spit facts and wax poetically as fast as he could, and she didn’t take any of his insults lying down. The other Teen Titans would often stand on the sidelines in fear and morbid entertainment as they watched the two of them go back and forth, arguing for hours sometimes. Honestly, if you asked any of them if Damian and Amy got along, they’d probably tell you they were mortal enemies. And yet, both of them found themselves willingly plunging into each argument as if they had been eagerly awaiting it. As if this other person was the first person in a long time who could actually stand on their intellectual level and not bat en eye.

Well, a few missions go by and this remains the status quo. No major relationship changes of any kind, just lots of back and forth banter.

BUT THEN—

The TT were on one mission in particular and it involved a shapeshifter. It’s nighttime, the team is in this big old abandoned building, they know this shapeshifter character is around somewhere, then they get attacked, and the group is split. Damian and Amethyst wind up alone. Together. In a section of the building. Amy suddenly appears distraught. She turns to Damian, blinking her big eyes, and while no one else is around to hear her she asks if he’s ever… felt for another person before. Damian… stares blankly at her. “Uh…” (Internally, warning bells are blaring, and he doesn’t know what to do.) Amy comes closer to him, and asks him if he’s ever felt… like he wanted to kiss someone before. Damian continues to stare blankly. “Uh…” (Inwardly, there are no more thoughts, only panic and melt down! He was never trained for this!) Amy hesitates, feeling sure that he wouldn’t understand, and for a moment, Damian thinks he’s in the clear, but then Amy changes her mind, musters her courage, and kisses him! Goosebumps. Hair standing on end. Fireworks. The whole shebang! …And then Damian falls unconscious. Yeah, that wasn’t Amethyst. That was the shapeshifter! It’s Nobody, by the way 👇 Yeah, I wanted to give her shapeshifting, because I think it would be cool for her character and other plot related reasons… see previous.

Anyway, so Damian wakes up after the mission, having been totally blindsided by Nobody, tricking him into kissing who he thought was Amy, and now he doesn’t know what to do with all that! So he pretends it never happened. No one else needs to know. And yet, he can’t help but feel some type of way whenever Amy walks by. He can’t even argue with her anymore—it makes him feel too weird! So he starts avoiding her like the plague. He doesn’t talk to her, he doesn’t look at her, she might as well not exist to him! And this… was not the smartest idea.

Ever since joining the team and meeting Damian, Amy’s felt the full sting of his insults and attacks. She’d never admit it, of course, and she tries her best to not let him get to her, but after weeks and weeks and weeks of this, she’d be lying if she said his words didn’t chip away at her heart just a little bit, wearing down her self esteem. And now, with Damian ignoring her, it only made things worse. He hated her. She was sure of it. He hated her and he wished she had never joined the team, and maybe it would better if she’d never come at all. Again, she locked these feelings away, trying her best to ignore them, but they were still there, waiting for their opportunity to make a mess, and make a mess they did.

It all came to a head after the TT came back from a botched mission. Damian was in a particularly bad mood and was tearing into some of his teammates, lecturing them about what they did wrong, and then Amy stepped up to defend them. That was the first time in weeks Damian acknowledged her, and he was savage. He didn’t pull any punches—he said aloud every single thing Amy most dreaded to hear. “You’re a burden to this team! You don’t know what you’re doing! It would be better if you’d never come to Earth at all!” Everything short of saying “I hate you.” And Amy… usually so resilient and proud and strong… finally broke. Tears slipped out before she could stop them, and she ran from the room, embarrassed. The other Titans were furious with Damian, and went to go console Amy. Even Jon, who tried his best to be patient with his friend because he knew about his awful upbringing, couldn’t defend him this time. He’d gone too far and been unnecessarily mean to someone who had only ever tried to be his friend. Jon was going to go join the others consoling her.

Damian flew back to Gotham in a rage. He spent three hours on the training course, then went up to his room and slammed the door shut. Alfred could see what was wrong the moment he set foot in the house, so he called Nightwing, hoping that the two of them could have a little chat. And chat they did. They snuck out on patrol together and Dick prodded the truth out of Damian, but he insisted that he hadn’t done anything wrong! Amy overreacted! It wasn’t his fault! Dick had to have a very long talk with him that night, and what Damian took away from it was this: Amy was his teammate, but more than that she was his friend. He can’t go around insulting her and making her cry, and the only way to stop being mean to her is to learn how to care about her and her feelings. This is a difficult concept for Damian to grasp.

The next day, Damian goes to Jon and asks him about “caring.” How does one do it? Jon does his best to explain, though he doesn’t put it quite so eloquently, and then he asks why Damian wants to know. Is this about Amy? Hmm? Does he want to care about Amy? Does he secretly like Amy? HMMM???

Damian reacts with nothing but hostility at first, rejecting such an utterly ridiculous idea, but then… he remembers the night he thought he had kissed Amy… and then he started recalling so many other things about Amy… things he admired about her… and he had to take a step back. Holy cow. He did like her. He made Jon swear to never, ever tell anyone about this under any circumstances, ever. This was a secret he would take to his grave. Especially since… Amy would leave one day, anyway. She had her kingdom to go home to. Rule as queen…

So following that conversation, Damian then goes to find Amy and apologise to her, but it doesn’t go well. Amy wants the truth out of him. No more insults or arguments or beating around the bush, she wanted to know exactly what Damian really thought of her. The truth! But Damian couldn’t tell her. She asked again. And again, he just couldn’t tell her. She left him, saying “I’ll think about accepting your apology.”

For a while, nothing more was said about it. An uneasy peace had been negotiated between the two, and while their constant ignoring of one another left the rest of the team feeling uneasy, it was at least a small improvement from constant arguing.

Finally, something came along to help set things right. During one of the big season finales, Amethyst is in mortal danger. Damian, seeing no other alternative, dives headfirst into danger, taking a bullet for her and saving her life. Amethyst refused to leave his bedside while he recovered, but once he did wake up, she made herself scarce. She was beyond grateful to him, but she couldn’t tell him that. To his face, anyway. Damian knew she was just beyond the med room door, though. He understood how she felt, and he knew the flowers by his bed were from her. He’d never appreciated flowers more in his life. But he couldn’t tell her that. Not to her face, anyway.

From that day on, Damian and Amy were on continuously improving terms, and every once in a while it wasn’t unusual for one or the other to find a gift left for them in their room or their Titans locker. Small things, usually. Get-well-soon gifts after getting injured in battle for example. They argued less, but they still never spoke to one another. Casually, that is. During missions, it was a necessity, but now they found themselves agreeing on battle strategies instead of butting heads all the time. The rest of the team was speechless.

However, all good things must come to an end. By the end of the Ultimate Teen Titans run, Amethyst’s kingdom is saved, and it’s time for her to go home and become queen. She can no longer be a Teen Titan. As she stands by the portal, waiting to take her home, she says one final goodbye to all her friends she’s come to love over the course of her stay. Lorena and Jenny… Jon, Jaime, and Virgil… and then there’s Damian. Team Captain. She gave hugs to all the others, but when she gets to Damian, she falters. In the end, all she can muster is a handshake, and all Damian can think to do is accept it. She says goodbye. He says goodbye. Even though there’s much more they wanted to say… it almost felt too cruel to say it now, on the verge of her leaving. So, Amy turns and starts walking… but that’s when Damian felt his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he’d regret not saying something now while he could—he needed to say something quickly!

“Amy!”

She turned around at once, hoping desperately that he would say the words they had both left hanging in the air. She wanted him to tell her not to go… he wanted to beg her to stay… but…

“…I… take care of yourself…”

At once, Amy’s spirits fell so low, it was just unbearable. With a quivering lip, she gave him a smile, said, “You too,” and then vanished into the portal.

Damian was left standing there, still in shock.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Bruce would routinely go looking for Damian and find him in his room, curled up on the floor by his fireplace. Titus the Great Dane was usually close by. Damian would never admit it in a million years, but Bruce knew he had been crying, at least the first time, right after Amy had left. After that… he was in a deep depression and barely ate, barely slept, and barely went outside. He would get back into the swing of things eventually—he was the son of Batman and Talia Al Ghul for pity’s sake—but for those few weeks… while he was alone… he was just a 14-year-old boy who was beating himself up over missing his last shot to tell Amy… he loved her. And now she was gone forever.

End of Chapter 1.

#dc #dc comics #batman #bat family #damian wayne #robin #teen titans #au #fan fiction

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elpeadro · 3 days ago

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I diagnose the Jentry Chau vs. The Underworld gang with QPR (queer-platonic relationship). It is so blatant and I love them so much.

Jentry-Michael: childhood best friends who haven't seen each other for half their lives after one of them accidentally burned down half the town (including her best friend’s home) with her magical fire powers and got sent away to Korea. Hit it off like nothing ever happened the day Jentry gets back in town. Gugu teases her about him because Jentry is not subtle at all. Protagonist girl x stereotypical love interest boy. Get to bond over being pressured to be someone they’re not by parental figures and being lied to about their powers. He dreams about her at night. (Don’t worry it’s not creepy.) She nearly kills him while he’s at work. Dating life stop-starts like 5 times because of shenanigans and poor communication and also maybe because their relationship isn’t meant to be romantic in nature.

Jentry-Kit: shapeshifter-adjacent demon who stalks, flirts with, seduces, lies to, threatens, and makes and wears a skin-suit of his mark only to fold after one (1) conversation, when she suggests he already has a soul, because he is that desperate for love and validation. Oh, and he’s working for the main villain who killed her parents, her great-aunt, and is actively trying to kill her. Protagonist girl x cool aloof bad boy love interest. Get to bond over being manipulated into fighting their authority figures’ feud/war. Lowkey is responsible for her almost killing stereotypical love interest boy. One kiss is enough to make him crash out when she rejects his advances afterwards. He falls for the oldest trick in the book, which is falling for your mark. He nearly dies distracting Cheng so that she can save the day (fuck you canon; you can’t take him away from me). He does this by wearing his Jentry skin-suit. They share the most homoerotically-charged scene in a TV-PG show while he’s building and putting on said skin-suit. Him nearly stealing her qi is so intimate and also please don’t do that without her consent sir 💀.

Michael-Kit: did you not SEE episode 5? They’re the nastiest parallels to ever parallel, to the point that their narrative energy warps reality and makes the lunch lady go on a comically direct lecture about how they need to choose for themselves what they want. This lecture is somehow about their identity issues and entire life’s course, and also about what they want for lunch. It is entirely unprompted. Kit nearly got him killed at work. They’re two-thirds of a love triangle, and a triangle can only be a triangle if it has 3 sides. (You get what I’m saying?) They were brothers-in-arms at the Alamo. They’re both incapable of not lying. Michael dreams about him the same number of times he dreams about Jentry. (Don’t worry it’s still not creepy.) They somehow avoid the stereotypical “high school love triangle drama” plot points between the two of them only because they’re busy fucking up their relationships in even bigger ways. Oh, and he prom-posed to Kit.

Michael-Stella: walking cliche of the high school “it” couple that was doomed the moment they set foot on the show. They were going to go to college together ffs. They dodge love triangle cliches regarding Jentry because they both think she’s that cool. She makes him protein bars. (Which suck, but it’s the thought that counts.) Football player x comphet lesbian. No seriously, she’s the most comphet lesbian to ever comphet lesbian. They have cliche “romantic chemistry”, but then they break up because he lies to her about wanting to be a shitty flute player over a superstar wide receiver recruit (except it’s not really a lie, but also it is), and they move over the “awkward exes” period and are much better characters and friends. He dreams about her at night as well. (Again, still not creepy.)

Jentry-Stella: the girliest girl friend duo in the world. Stella helps her adjust to a new school in a way that is so nice and sweet that it’s one of the more unrealistic parts of the show. They have a scene in Jentry’s bedroom. Their male love interests fumble them at roughly the same time, and then they do spirit week together and are having the time of their lives. She braids Jentry’s hair. They’re both so cool, but also so lame in their own ways. Also there’s no way Stella doesn’t have somewhat of a crush on her because 1) Jentry is that cool and pretty and awesome, and 2) Stella is a certified girl lover.

Kit-Stella: look they didn’t really interact in canon, but he’s on her shit list. She’s got her eye on him at all times, because Jentry may have forgiven him, but she’s watching out for her friend. She 100% gave him the shovel talk. Things get REALLY awkward if Jentry and/or Michael aren’t there, because these two are easily the weak link of the QPR.

Also all four of them are some form of queer.

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carpenoctxrn · 2 days ago

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Promise (Yandere!Ominis x fem!reader) Part 3

Requested by Anon!

Disclaimer: Mature adulting stuff.

AN: Ominis is not possessive in this as much because everything is going "as planned", like little lark Ominis was crazzzzy possesive. So really he is sweet more than anything because he is getting everything he wants. Like he has no need to be possesive when she so willingly is letting him take her.

Also I want to get married at a vineyard now and own one too.

Masterlist

It had been three weeks since she had given herself to Ominis.

Three weeks after they had lost their virginity together, their bodies entwined in the moon illuminated room, in secret, where no one else could touch them, see them, ruin them.

And for the past three weeks, she had been filled full of him every single night.

Her body still ached from the last time, his grip on her hips, the way he pushed deeper, deeper, deeper, whispering how she was his, how he would never let her go.

She had loved every second of it.

But now, as she struggled to zip up her skirt, her stomach twisting with a growing sense of dread, she felt something else entirely.

Am I swelling with a child?

The thought made her breath hitch.

No. No, I can’t be.

Her parents had been strict, enforcing ridiculous rules about courtship “No dating until after Hogwarts.”

And yet, here she was. Possibly pregnant. With only a month left until graduation.

Her fingers trembled as she adjusted her uniform, hiding the half-zipped skirt beneath her vest before rushing out of the dorm, her mind spiraling.

She needed to get to the Great Hall. She needed to think.

But she never made it there.

A hand shot out, grabbing her wrist, yanking her into the shadows of a secluded hallway.

Her breath hitched; until she felt him.

Ominis.

“Good morning, love.” His voice was velvet, smooth and possessive, before his lips descended upon hers in a searing, all-consuming kiss.

Her thoughts blurred.

She melted into him instantly, just like she always did.

And Ominis smirked.

She was pliable in his hands— putty, soft and eager, bending to his touch without a second thought.

But so was he.

Just the clack of her shoes across the stone floors was enough to set him on edge, to make his body crave her all over again.

She was his.

His to love. His to keep.

His to ruin.

“Good morning, Omi.” She greeted, voice hazy from his kiss.

He pulled her in again, deeper, his fingers curling around her waist, claiming, holding, keeping.

And that was when he felt it.

The way she tensed beneath his touch.

She pulled back, and Ominis' smirk faded.

Something was wrong.

His grip on her waist tightened. “What’s wrong?”

She swallowed, eyes darting away. She looked nervous. Afraid. Like she was hiding something from him.

And Ominis hated that.

“Omi… I think—I think I’m pregnant.”

She whispered it, as if saying it too loudly would make it real.

His heart stilled.

Then—a slow, creeping smile spread across his lips.

It worked.

His plan had worked.

She was now with his child. His seed had taken root, claiming her from the inside out, binding her to him forever.

Soon, she would be plump with his heir, her body growing round and soft, all for him, all because of him.

Ominis exhaled a shuddering breath, pure ecstasy rushing through his veins as he crushed her against him, capturing her lips in a kiss filled with triumph, devotion, hunger.

“Don’t worry, love.” He whispered against her mouth, his tone soothing, reassuring, final. “I’ll take care of you both. I promise.”

But she didn’t kiss him back.

She stiffened in his arms.

And then her voice broke.

“But I don’t want a baby.”

Ominis felt his heart shatter.

His breath caught. His grip tightened.

“Why not?” His voice was low, barely above a whisper, but there was something dangerous in it.

A pause. A long, painful silence.

Then the words that nearly destroyed him.

“I love you, Ominis.” Her voice was soft, filled with emotion, and for a moment— just a moment— his heart swelled.

But then she kept speaking.

“And I want to experience the world with you before we settle down.” She sniffled, her hands gripping his robes. “You don’t want to be associated with your family, and I don’t either. If we have a child now, we’ll be forced to depend on others, to be tied down before we’ve even had a chance to live.”

Ominis stared at her, something dark and possessive slithering through his chest.

She didn’t understand.

She didn’t see what he saw.

She spoke as if freedom was something they needed.

But they already had freedom.

They had each other.

Still, he forced himself to think. She’s not saying she doesn’t love me. She just… doesn’t want it yet.

He took a slow, measured breath, choosing his words carefully.

“You don’t have to worry about money, love.” His voice was smooth, reassuring. “I made investments years ago. I have more than enough to provide for you— for us— without ever needing to rely on anyone.”

Her lips parted in surprise, and he let his fingers brush against her cheek, soft and gentle.

“That being said,” he continued, tilting her chin up, “this is your body. I will never force something upon you that doesn’t make you happy.”

His words were sweet, but his tone was possessive, laced with something darker, more dangerous; as if he was branding her with them, ensuring that she understood how deep his love ran.

She made her decision that day.

They went to Nurse Blaney; a kind woman who had helped many girls in this predicament before. She had been gentle, understanding, offering them a small vial of potion and explaining the aftercare in a voice soft with warmth.

“You don’t have to take it.” She reassured them. “Even now, with it in your hands, you are allowed to change your mind.”

And she almost didn’t.

Back in the Room of Requirement, she stared at the vial, her hands shaking.

She was about to drink it.

And then the tears welled in her eyes.

Her fingers trembled.

Her throat tightened.

Ominis' heart stopped.

“Love?” His voice was careful, scared. He pulled her into his arms, his hands firm on her waist, anchoring her to him. “Talk to me.”

She choked on a sob, gripping his robes. “I—I want them.”

A pause. A single, shuddering breath.

“I love them.”

She hiccupped, clutching him tighter. “And the thought of losing them; it scares me. Its unbearable”

Ominis exhaled, his lips pressing into her hair, his hold unbreakable.

And for the first time that day he smiled.

—---

The two of them had agreed to keep the pregnancy a secret— at least from their families.

Their friends, however, knew immediately.

The girls had been beyond ecstatic, squealing over the news, while the boys had clapped Ominis on the back, teasing him about becoming a “family man.”

But beyond the teasing, there was something undeniably different about him now.

Ominis had always carried himself with quiet intensity, but now? Now, there was an undeniable sense of purpose in the way he held her, the way he moved, the way he whispered against her skin every night, "You're mine. Always."

By the time graduation arrived, her stomach had begun to round ever so slightly, though not enough for anyone outside their close circle to notice. She wasn’t yet feeling the full symptoms of pregnancy— her breasts were a little fuller, a little more sensitive, but nothing drastic.

Her family, strict as they were, had grown fond of Ominis.

They knew his status, knew he was a gentleman, and had no reason to doubt him. If only they knew the depraved things he had done to their daughter, they wouldn’t be patting his back so proudly.

And then, of course, there were the Gaunts.

They arrived at the ceremony, cold and composed, but when introduced to the infamous Hero of Hogwarts, their greedy expressions flickered with something close to approval.

Power. Beauty. Status.

That’s all they saw when they looked at her.

Not the girl who had saved their son from becoming like them, not the girl who had made Ominis smile for the first time in his life, not the girl he had worshipped body and soul every night.

Just power.

And yet, Ominis didn’t care.

Because they didn’t matter. Only she did.

After the ceremony, once the Gaunts had left without fanfare, Ominis approached her father, his expression steady, his grip on her hand firm.

“Sir, I’d like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Her father had known this was coming.

She had written letters about Ominis for years, talked endlessly about him during the holidays, and would smugly refer to herself as ‘the future Mrs. Ominis Gaunt’ just to tease her father, who loathed the idea of his little girl growing up.

Even her mother had joined in on the joke, always responding, "No dating until after Hogwarts."

But now, here they were.

And her father, after a long moment of deliberation, let out a deep sigh before nodding. "She loves you. That much is obvious. And you're a good man. You have my blessing."

Ominis let out a breath, relief flooding him.

Not that he had needed permission.

Because even if the answer had been no, nothing would have stopped him from keeping her forever.

Later that evening, as the sun cast golden hues across the castle, Ominis led them to a secluded overlook, a breathtaking spot where they could see the castle, the lake, and the rolling mountains in the distance.

Her family stood behind them, admiring the view, but Ominis wasn’t looking at the horizon.

He was looking at her.

And then he reached into his pocket.

Her breath hitched as he knelt before her, pulling out a ring that he had chosen months ago.

His fingers trembled slightly as he held it up, but his voice, his devotion, his love, was unwavering.

“You are the love of my life.”

The words were soft, gentle, but they carried the weight of everything he was.

“Not because of your beauty, not because of your power but because you know me better than I know myself. Because every day with you, I learn something new about who I am, about who I want to be. You are my reason for everything, my guiding light.

And I want to spend the rest of my life learning more about you, about us, about the family I know we will build together.”

His breath shook slightly, but his grip on her hand was firm, reverent, unyielding.

“Marry me.”

Her vision blurred with tears, her throat tightening as overwhelming love, devotion, and sheer emotion swallowed her whole.

She barely managed to choke out a soft, tearful “yes” before dropping to her knees and throwing herself into his arms.

Her family cheered, her mother wiping away happy tears while her siblings laughed and teased her for crying so much.

But it wasn’t just the proposal.

It was everything.

Her hormones, yes but more than that, it was Ominis.

The man she loved.

The man she had given herself to.

The man who would burn the world to the ground if it meant keeping her safe.

And now, he was hers. Forever.

Fireworks erupted in the night sky, a little favor he asked Sebastian who happily obliged and delivered.

—--

The wedding happened within a month.

Her family had hesitated, worried that she was rushing into it. But every time they questioned her, she would simply say,

“I courted him for two years. I refuse to be his fiancée when I could just be his wife.”

And that was that.

They knew their daughter, tenacious, brilliant, headstrong. And they knew Ominis, devoted, loyal, utterly besotted with her.

So, despite their reservations, they gave their blessing.

The Gaunts, however, were not invited.

Ominis had finally confessed everything— his unstable home life, the cruelty he had endured, the cold, loveless existence he had been raised in.

And her parents, with their warm hearts and unwavering protectiveness, had taken him in as their own.

For the first time in his life, Ominis felt something he had never known before.

A place to belong. A family that cared. A love that didn’t come with conditions.

And with that, the final tether binding him to the Gaunts snapped.

He was hers now. Entirely. Forever.

—

Then came finding their home.

A quaint little mansion, nestled just minutes away from Godric’s Hollow, with land sprawling around them in lush, green abundance. Vineyards stretched in one direction, fertile soil in another, ready for her to plant anything her heart desired.

Their home was perfect.

High-arched windows that bathed the rooms in golden sunlight. A kitchen lined with white marble, polished and pristine. A library for Ominis, lined with towering bookshelves, seamlessly doubling as a study for her. And most importantly; space.

Space for their growing family.

—-

The ceremony was set in their own backyard, just as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Tables and chairs were arranged neatly, all in white, the air thick with the scent of roses and honeysuckle. Flowers in blush pink and deep green adorned every surface, soft candlelight flickering around them.

And then— Ominis.

He stood at the altar, his tuxedo expertly tailored.

Charcoal grey. Silver embroidery. A crisp white shirt beneath, his vest black with intricate silver threads woven through the fabric.

He was breathtaking.

His groomsmen, Sebastian, Garreth, and Amit stood beside him, all dressed in black tuxedos, but Ominis stood apart. He was stunning, regal, ethereal.

And yet, even in all his refinement, he had eyes only for her.

His bride. His wife.

And when she appeared, walking down the aisle, arm-in-arm with her parents, Ominis nearly forgot how to breathe.

—-

She was a vision.

Her wedding dress clung beautifully to her form, the white fabric glowing in the soft twilight.

Intricate pearls were sewn into the bodice, shimmering with each graceful step she took. The corset-like design held her firm, and though she had worried about it being too tight around her three-month baby bump, Natty had reassured her, "It won’t harm the baby, I promise."

So she had worn it.

And now, as she walked towards Ominis, the delicate lace-trimmed veil trailing behind her, the soft parting of her breasts exposed by the gentle dip of her gown, her bare shoulders kissed by the glow of candlelight—

Ominis was undone.

His chest tightened.

His fingers trembled at his sides.

His bride, his wife, his love, was carrying his child as she walked toward him.

She was his.

And soon, she would be his in every way imaginable.

—

The vows were spoken.

Her voice was steady, full of promise, devotion, and love.

Ominis’ voice, however, was thick with emotion.

How could it not be?

He was marrying the woman who had saved him. The woman who had tamed his demons, softened his heart, and ruined him for anyone else.

She was his breath, his mind, his soul, his body.

And when the minister said, "You may now kiss the bride," Ominis did not hesitate.

His hands slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him as he captured her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss.

It was a kiss meant for show— loving, tender, drawn out just enough to make the crowd swoon.

But beneath it?

Beneath it was something else entirely.

Beneath it was hunger, longing, the kind of desperate devotion only he could feel for her.

Because tonight— finally— she would be his again.

—

As they walked down the aisle, hand in hand, a shower of petals rained down upon them, their guests cheering, the sun fully setting just as expected.

Candles floated around the courtyard, their soft glow illuminating the evening, courtesy of Professor Weasley’s magic.

And through it all, Ominis held onto her.

He held onto her like a man possessed.

Because in every way that mattered, he was.

—

Their first dance as husband and wife was nothing short of enchanting. Beneath the full moon’s soft glow, they moved in perfect harmony, their steps slow and deliberate, as if savoring every second. The makeshift pillars, once simple wooden boxes, had been transfigured into elegant structures adorned with ivy, framing their dance beneath the night sky. The air smelled of blooming flowers and ripened grapes from the vineyard, a reminder of the life they were building together.

Ominis had never known such pure joy. He could feel her love radiating through every touch, every whispered breath between them. But what truly made his heart ache with emotion was the gentle bump pressing between them; the life they had created together. His grip on her waist tightened ever so slightly, a silent vow that he would protect them both with everything he had.

Their foreheads touched as she blinked back tears of happiness, her lips curling into a smile. "I'm officially Mrs. Gaunt," she sniffled softly.

"And I'm officially your husband," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

She let out a soft laugh, her fingers brushing the nape of his neck. "But I was yours, and you were mine, from the moment I bumped into you leaving the Undercroft."

A smirk tugged at his lips. "And I knew you were mine the day I realized I couldn't stand the way other boys said your name."

She chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You glared at every single one of them, Omi."

"I wasn’t glaring," he protested, though even he knew it was a lie.

She only laughed again, shaking her head. He could listen to that sound forever.

His hand settled protectively over her stomach as he whispered, "I love you both more than anything in this world."

"And we love you too," she murmured, resting her hand over his.

Under the moonlit sky, with music swirling around them and their love wrapped in the warm embrace of the night, Ominis knew— this was his forever. And he would never let it go.

—

The embers of the bonfire crackled softly, casting golden light over the circle of friends gathered around it. The air carried the scent of burning wood, mingling with the distant sweetness of the vineyard. Laughter and conversation flowed as easily as the dark liquor Amit kept sneaking sips of, their voices hushed yet lively in the late-night calm.

Ominis sat comfortably on a transfigured loveseat, his wife nestled against him, her soft, loose dress doing little to hide the way her body molded perfectly into his. The warmth of her pressed against his side made it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. He breathed in deeply, trying to steady himself, but every time she threw her head back in laughter — especially when Imelda mimicked Headmaster Black’s pompous drawl — he felt himself slipping. Her delicate fingers gripped his thigh as she lost herself in amusement, her hair falling into her face, nose crinkling in that way that always undid him.

Ominis tightened his hold around her. Before her, he never had a reason to wake up in the morning beyond obligation. Now, he had purpose. He had her.

“So, do you want to know the baby’s gender?” Natty asked curiously, snuggling closer to Amit.

His wife’s parents had left an hour ago, having spent the past month at their estate, meaning the topic could be spoken about freely; something she loved.

“I think I do,” she murmured, cradling the small bump as she gazed down at it.

“I want to crochet as many little clothes as I can before they pop out,” she added with a giddy smile, excitement lighting up her face.

“And what about you, Ominis?” Amit asked, taking a slow swig of the dark liquor Ominis had introduced him to.

“I prefer whatever my wife prefers,” Ominis replied smoothly, as if the answer had always been written in the stars.

A chorus of teasing sounds erupted from their friends.

“You’ve gone soft, Gaunt,” Gareth chuckled, shoving another handful of chicken dippers into his mouth.

“More like being married has turned him into a doting husband,” Anne quipped, her words laced with knowing amusement towards Gareth as if for him to catch a hint.

“You’re not marrying my sister until you become something, Weasley,” Sebastian warned, his voice holding an edge of seriousness.

Laughter erupted, but Anne turned red in protest. “I am not marrying him!” she shrieked.

“Well, you’re not marrying anyone else besides Gareth either,” Sebastian shot back with an air of finality.

Everyone knew the truth that Anne and Gareth were inevitable. The moment Gareth had pummeled a sixth-year back in their fourth year for making an offhanded comment about Anne needing to “grow into her looks,” Sebastian had known. And so had the rest of their friends. The only ones oblivious were the two idiots themselves.

“So, who’s next to marry in our group?” Ominis’ wife asked coyly, stirring the pot with a mischievous smile.

“Maybe it’ll be Sebastian,” Ominis said with a smirk, finding humor in how the most hopeless romantic among them was the only one still single.

“And who, exactly, would I marry?” Sebastian asked, brow furrowed.

“Mrs. Hecate, of course,” Imelda deadpanned, laughing as Poppy nudged her with an elbow.

Their friends erupted into laughter, the old memory resurfacing. Sebastian groaned, rubbing his face as if to erase the embarrassment. He had once found a photo of a breathtaking young woman in the Restricted Section, believing it to be a former student. For months, he had been determined to find her—only to discover, to his absolute horror, that the photo was of Professor Hecate in her prime. When the picture had fallen out of his bag in the middle of class, she had simply stared at him, expression unreadable, before asking why he had it.

That day, the entire group had been sent to detention—for their uncontrollable laughter. It was the only time Sebastian had ever dreaded serving it.

“Hey, leave my good friend Sebastian alone,” Amit slurred, waving his drink dramatically. “I know what it’s like to have your heart broken.”

“Why would you say that, Amit?” Natty asked, suddenly curious.

“Well—I—it was—uh—” Amit stammered, his ears turning red as Imelda let out exaggerated “oohs,” sensing trouble.

But Ominis barely heard them now. His attention was fixed on the woman beside him. Her head had begun to droop slightly, exhaustion finally catching up with her after the long day. Her eyes fluttered shut for brief moments before she blinked herself awake again.

“Would you like to turn in for the night, love?” he asked, his voice softer now, pulling her just a little closer.

“Mhm…” She hummed, her body melting into his touch. “It’s as if I forgot I had a long day, and now my lack of sleep has crept up on me.” She yawned delicately, rubbing her eyes.

“Let’s go, Mrs. Gaunt,” Ominis said smoothly, smirking as she giggled at the sound of it.

“Goodnight! Make sure you all sleep inside the house and not out here,” she called out drowsily. “Birky will clean up outside in the morning.”

A chorus of whispers and giggles erupted behind them as they made their way toward the house — no doubt their friends making jokes about their need to consummate their marriage.

But just as they reached the threshold, Ominis suddenly stopped.

“What is it?” she asked, turning to face him, suddenly hyper-aware of the way the night had fallen into silence.

Instead of answering, he pulled her close, capturing her lips in a lingering kiss. It was one of the hundreds he had stolen from her that day, but this one was different. This one was filled with quiet hunger, with promise. His hands roamed over her figure in a slow, reverent touch before he pulled back just enough to maneuver her into his arms, lifting her effortlessly in a bridal carry.

A soft giggle escaped her lips, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“I intend to make good on my promise, love,” he murmured against her ear.

Her breath hitched, all traces of sleep vanishing in an instant. He knew exactly what he was doing—how easily he could undo her.

And with that, Ominis carried his wife inside, the rest of the world fading away as their night truly began.

-----

Anyways this is part 3 to yandere Ominis. fourth part would be them consumating their marriage cause duh. Probably more breeding Ominis because lets be honest here, the man is feral.

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pssst.... first divider by @anitalenia and second divider by @pommecita. the plain banner is by me....

#x reader #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #x you smut #hogwarts smut #dividers by pommecita

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