#but I'm counting her as a foster child | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-midnight-blooms · 2 months ago

Text

ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴛɪꜱᴛ'ꜱ ꜱᴛᴜᴅɪᴏ

pairing: painter!choi san x painter!reader

AU: historical au, joseon dynasty

word count: 10.5k

masterlist

I reach out to my lover, he’s trapped within a painting. The muse of a Renaissance artist- he’s so divine he may have even started the movement.

Her feet pattered down the cold floorboards, pushing through the salmun doors-the fabric of her purple hanbok bunched up in her palms. The midnight bloomed in the depth of the spring, where the cherry blossom trees roared with the wind. A captivating beam from the candle paved the way to the front doors, her heart lurching in her chest as she felt an enchanted soul beckoning her name; her vessel bowed in his essence as if the rapping of the door knocker was to the beat of her name, echoing every syllable. With her hand outstretched for the doors, she hauled it open finding a man whose eyes were squinting as the the coarse rain battered against his supple skin; his teeth chattering with the cold. With a brown leather bag sloped over the shoulder of his light yellow hanbok; hands gripped steely over the handle of his heavy cases. He was tall, with broad shoulders, she quickly discerned but his face almost seemed obscured by the dark clouds and the night slowly filtering into the star studded sky.

"Please, Miss, I'm here to see Mr Yim. I'm a new apprentice at the local government office." His voice was almost mellowed by the crash of thunder against the sky, which had them both flinching at its mercilessness. A surge of relief rested upon him as a slender arm in purple outstretched towards him; the warmth easing the shattering goosebumps bestowed upon his delicate skin. With a contented sigh, the figure in front raised the candle to his face; the soft glow illuminated his crescent eyes which bored into another's burgeoning with curiosity.

"Your name, Sir?" Her honey like voice, slid into his ears; lashes gently fluttering as he breathed in the sight before him the beaming light from the candle forging a halo around this angel. Her tight jaw and deadpan expression was immediately dissolved between the influx of enigma that flooded into her eyes.

"Choi San." Nodding diligently, she gesticulated for him to follow her to her father's study. The hallways of the Yim estate were particularly large, a few candelabras were perched on top of the drawers plastered across the panelled walls-the smoke infiltrating into the empty space. They graced the floor with minimal sound, as if there were ghosts traipsing the corridors rather than real people.

Stood outside the large door, she dipped her head in politeness as he gently caressed the lumber; soft knocks restituting off the walls. With the candle perched within a hand of his own, yet another door opened; the esteemed artist tumbled through the doorway into another life.

Just over two decades ago, on a winter night, where the trees were bare of crisp leaves and the ground was brazen with purest of snow; a couple sat by the fire in their bedroom: a new-born cherub encapsulated within her mother's arms. Mr Yim, the father of the child, was a member of a group of scholars who advocated the need for the government to foster commerce, industry, and technology. He was a part of one of the four schools of thought in Joseon that shifted from speculative theory to attending to more taxing socio-political issues. Therefore, despite being renown for his hard work, and steadfast nature, he was also known for being quite reserved- to put it nicely. There were no 'good mornings' or 'good afternoons' from Mr Yim. Nor were there dirty looks and unwelcoming mannerisms bestowed upon his acquaintances. He liked to keep to himself, Mrs Yim being the only woman in the world capable of seeing that man smile.

"Would you like to hold her, dear?" His wife called, the gentle babbling of his child sending a jolt of fear rushing through him. Eagerly, he dismissed the opportunity, to which Mrs Yim had sighed staring down at her beautiful daughter. "She is your daughter, too. You're going to have to hold her at one point."

"I'll hold her when she is a little older than what she is now."

"Before you know it, she will become a woman and you will reminisce all the opportunities you had to cuddle her when you could." Truthfully, Mr Yim was afraid of fatherhood; he never really understood the notion of it but if having a child would make his darling, Mrs Yim, happy then Mr Yim would give her all the children in the world. How could he raise a child when he was left to raise himself? What could he even teach except say to his daughter after every stumble, every mistake, every stutter, every cry for help but: 'find your way'?

Thus, his aloof nature extended to his daughter, who having been pinned by her mother's side until her unfortunate death, became wholly estranged from her father. He was no longer her mother's husband, but rather just a kind stranger who fed her, clothed her, kept her under his roof and gave her almost anything she wanted.

Miss Yim was rather bizarre.

Or at least, that's what the townspeople thought through her poignant introvertedness; maintaining scant friendships, rejecting all marriage prospects almost immediately preferring the confines of her large quarters-which in themselves were situated in the segregated division of the family home. Her rooms were not bright, but panelled with a dark wood that foremost created a dull atmosphere, there was minimal light other than what streamed in through the open doors and windows that overlooked the vast lawn. A porch ran around the whole building, where Miss Yim frequented, all year round, as she drew.

Oh! The most compelling thing about Miss Yim was that in contrast to her academic father, she had particularly excelled in the arts, often taking on commissions from local noblemen requesting venerated portraits of their wives. As well as the opportunity to put her skills to practise, she saw it as a way of putting a few extra pennies in her pocket. In alignment with her reserved nature, Miss Yim found that she preferred to draw using defined, darker mediums such as charcoal, ink and graphite pencils. There was something so true about the loneliness that could be felt from the intricate brushstrokes as the ink spilled across the page. As if the figurines were her, simply founded to be a mere prop in a large frame.

Smoothing down the hairs on her head, she snapped away her gaze from the mirror to the window overlooking the side of the garden, the silhouette of the hanok roofs, carving elegantly into the sky. The trees rocked and the grass rippled with the pending ferocity of the wind. Indeed, the storm would not subside within the next few days. The door to her bedroom slid open, the older maid stumbled in settling the tray upon her bench.

"Will I not be eating with my father today?" Ina looked up from where she was kneeled on the floor, settling the bowls onto the bench.

"Mr Yim is currently accompanied with Mr Choi. Your father requested that you eat by yourself for the duration of his stay, you know how it is." Nodding, she took her seat opposite Ina patiently awaiting for the maid to stop assembling her dishes in a neat line in front of her. Whilst women typically dined by themselves, her father had allowed her to eat with him almost daily; except when there were guests. Despite his neglect towards his daughter, he still valued her feminine dignity and did not trust the vulturous eyes of men that rested their predatory gaze upon her.

"Who is this, Mr Choi, and how is it that I wasn't aware of his arrival until he was knocking on our door?" She questioned, Ina's careful gaze flickered to her before staring out into the open space in contemplation.

"A new apprentice. He’s appointed here, on request of his father." Leaning forward, Ina's voice dropped an octave. "Apparently his father says he's been 'engaging in sin' so he's been estranged from his parents until he gets his act together." Raising a questioning brow, she looked down at her bowl.

"Is he a homosexual?" Immediately, she was wacked on the back of her head by the older maid who didn't miss a single second in scolding her. Her hand sped to the back, rubbing the jolt of pain that seared through her, a temporary look of irritation glazed over her eyes.

"You insolent girl! How could you say such thing, you know how disgraced that is!"

"You said ‘engaging in sin'. I can't think of anything more sinful other than fraternising with men or women." Ina's dirty look penetrated through her bones, provoking a sense of humiliation that would rattle through her in the depth of the night. Scowling at her mistress, she rolled her eyes before getting up from the floorboard.

“Hurry up and eat your food. You need to go to Mrs Kang’s today." Following Ina's orders she gulfed down her food, drowning out the maid's muttering about her being crude and dishonourable.

The light chatter from the front room fell deaf at her ears as she sauntered to the entrance, which the two kitchen maids scuttled in through. Bowing at their mistress, they made a fowl attempt at suppressing a fit of giggles as they subtly snuck a glance into the room. Following their gazes, she warily traipsed in, catching her father converse with their new guest.

"Ah, speak of the devil! Mr Choi, this is my daughter." He teared his gaze away from his mentor to draw his eyes across the room and find the infamous Miss Yim perched by the doorway, gripping onto her onto the full skirts of her dark blue hanbok.

It was hard to deny that Mr Choi was amiable. He was tall, well-built with a toned torso that was still perceptible through his uncreased peach coloured hanbok, dimples adorned his perfectly structured cheeks. He nodded with such elegant eagerness, at her father's command harbouring the position of an obedient son, almost leaving her wondering what was so 'sinful' about that man in the first place? What could he have possibly done so wrong that he had practically been disowned by his family?

"Miss Yim, it's nice to formally meet you." She gave him a polite nod, choosing to stay silent than say something and be met with her father's harsh stare.

"Mr Kang told me you've been over at his home, a few times." Her father spoke breaking the awkward meeting. A breath became lodged in her throat as she anticipated some sort of wrath, after all Mr Yim was supposed to be oblivious to her going out and painting other women for a light commission. She didn't exactly know how he would react to that. "He appreciates your help with Mrs Kang's pregnancy." Mrs Kang is pregnant? That would explain the engorging belly, the mood swings and the other number of odd behaviours that she was listing off in the past few weeks she had been challenged with drawing the difficult woman. At times, Miss Yim thought she ought to have more empathy, it wasn't that she lacked it, it was that she tended to not gift her empathetic abilities to the prejudiced. It was women like Ina, and the cooks that worked in the kitchen that deserved her compassion. Women who strived to be breadwinners, even if it was due to poor socio-economic circumstances. Because women like Mrs Kang were hypocrites to be preaching the old values, pre-Confucianism, when they neglected their own sex.

"Yes, she's been enjoying my company. I intend to go again to deliver herbs she’s asked from Ina’s garden.” She recalled glancing down the extensively large page, as Mrs Kang moaned and groaned when the servants were too late to serve her namul and kimchi.

"Red raspberry leaf, dandelions, echinacea." Grimacing, she looked over her sheet to give the woman a look. "You can just get this from the market, why do you need this from Ina's garden?" Mrs Kang simply pouted rubbing her belly. Now that she thought about it, how did it not occur to her that she was pregnant? Perhaps it was because they begged to slim down her figure in the painting.

"Fresh herbs are good for babies." Were the herbs from the market not fresh enough for her? “I need them picked before they’re here.”

"Perhaps I should add lemon balm to burn that fat." A discourse of exasperated gasps rippled over the room, Mrs Kang waddled out of the room wailing for her husband. It was ruthless and unkind, keeping the unsympathetic Miss Yim awake at night before she travelled back to the Kang estate to see a very unhappy couple.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Kang. You’re beautiful just the way you are, even more with the little belly.” The pregnant woman’s tight grip around her neck, as they hugged, almost choked her to death.

Mr Yim's eyes outcasted through the doorway, there was a light patter of rain yet the howl of the wind had subsided significantly. He let out a small hum before returning back to the young pair staring, ardently, back at him.

"I say Mr Choi, should be your chaperone. It's a little unsafe to be going out by yourself." Before she could open her mouth and argue, her father held out a hand to silence her thoughts. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she nodded once more, before dashing from the room to have a flustered Mr Choi following her.

Hitching up her skirts, she trudged through the field, the sun had filtered into the sky radiating its essence onto the young souls as they surpassed the reams of houses. Had it not been for the joyous discord of infantile laughter, it would have been quiet; San mustering the courage to initiate a conversation. He cleared his throat, she merely blinked at his futile attempt at grabbing her attention.

"Miss Yim, you must slow down I can't keep up with your pace." He declared, striding faster towards her, the tall grass brushing against his knees.

"I think you can cope, Sir. Your legs are longer than mine." Walking through the grass wasn't difficult but when her hanbok was floor length, lifting up the heavy fabric proved tiresome and not to mention her shoes were sinking into the muddy fields, squelching miserably under her heavy steps. Eventually, San matched her pace as they made their way up the steps to the Kang estate.

A shrill voice eructed into the airs, the domestic staff worked at a proficient speed as they amended the damages inflicted from the storm. As a group of servants raised the logs from the path, San ran to their aid significantly lightening their work load. His charity had left her silent contemplating her initial thoughts on his persona. There must be something impure under all that. Surely? There had to be some reason why his father practically disowned him.

Kang Yeosang stood by his front doors, watching as his staff worked the lawn and through the large home. He sought the enigmatic painter launch up the steps, with an unreadable look painted on her face.

“Good Morning, Miss Yim.”

“Morning, Yeosang.” She greeted, he laughed a little at her dull tone.

“I take it, there’s nothing particularly good about this morning.” He jeered, she huffed at his characteristically exuberant manner.

“Not when my father’s spy is here to be my chaperone.” She turned around on the steps, the pair looking down at San moving the heavy logs from the path, dirtying his robes at that. “He’s the new apprentice at the local office, Choi San, I think he said his name was.”

"Oh, the country boy." Country boy? "He's from Yangdong, have you not heard? His family is amongst the richest, they're both scholars and farmers, now." Across the country, Joseon farming techniques had taken a turn within the last few decades, especially with the establishment of irrigation and rice transplantation methods- bringing Joseon to a state of flourishment. It was safe to say, which farmer wasn't rich now? The admirable farm boy was pushed away by the servants, making his way up the steps. Leaving him with Yeosang, she made her way in the direction of the couples' shared quarters, Mrs Kang draped over her bed, her wrist dramatically resting on her forehead.

"Hello, Mrs Kang." The woman jolted up from her seat, an obnoxious groan emitted from her as she propped her back up against the wall. "I brought you your herbs."

"Thank you, my love. You left your paints, they're just on my dressing table." The herbs were exchanged from her paints, digging into the pockets of her hanbok. The older woman began to natter, the discordant tonality rattling in her ears. Mrs Kang loved to talk. Even if it was about absolutely nothing, that woman talked for the whole of Joseon.

I'm leaving this place with a headache.

She often wondered how it was that Yeosang put up with his insufferable wife. Was it love, or a promise that he had made to Mrs Kang's parents that he would never leave her? The thought made her sigh in pity- to be permanently bound to someone in matrimony seemed like too much effort at times. Perhaps the effort itself is what subdued her mother to misery, the poor Mrs Yim eagerly handing her soul to the Angel of Death. Or maybe Miss Yim had possessed a stone-cold heart frozen over by the neglect of life's intimate essence; overpowered by a sense of maturity held over by her mother's early death. She took it upon herself to make it clear that by the time she was thirty, if there was no proposal that had come around she was going to wholly abandon the idea of marriage and work herself to death.

"That man is so pretty." She spoke, dreamily, Miss Yim's eyes lazily fled in the direction of Mrs Kang's. Her head poked through the doorway where both Yeosang and San were travelling down, engaging in intelligent discourse. "Not Yeo, the other one." The pregnant woman clarified.

"He's ok, I suppose. Not bewitching enough to tempt me."

"That has to be the biggest lie I have ever heard."

"What is Miss Yim lying about now?" Yeosang provoked as both men entered the room. Both women shared a look before the painter slumped onto the dressing table chair. "I suppose you're awaiting your payment."

"Well, my services aren't free." She declared, pompously. Yeosang rolled his eyes before he moved to the opposite end of the room, San had almost drawn his body out of the bedroom, a little embarrassed as the pregnant Mrs Kang ogled her eyes at him. Stretching her limbs, she got up taking the velvet bag. "Thank you, Mr Kang. I'll visit when the baby arrives."

His perfection had her repleted with such distaste for him. Simply put, Miss Yim hated Choi San because he was loved by all. Her father loved him, Ina adored him, the maids were constantly drooling over him it shot her with a sense of annoyance. He quickly became a household name, spoken of when he was at the office with her father and even when he was at home. Everywhere she went it was just him, him and him. The worst thing was, was that he was even trying to be nice to her prevailing through her grim looks and hard words.

“San this, San that. Honestly, he’s not even as esteemed as everyone claims, Ina. He’s just a man, like every other man. And all men are the same. So what if he's good looking, does that suddenly make him god’s greatest gift?” Burying her face into the pillow, an exasperated huff escaped her lips. Ina fell onto her bed, reaching her arms out to stroke her mistress’ back. With a contented sigh, she felt her eyes drooping a little as the maid's soft caresses were gently lulling her to sleep. Her touch felt like that of her mother's, soothing the aches of her heart whilst simultaneously provoking the nostalgia of a mother's love. To have her mother again, to have that woman encircle her into her arms. Rock her back and forth. She longed for her mother's scent again, often chasing the whiff of her familiar saccharine redolence as one chased butterflies in an open field.

“Yet you think of him often. He occupies your thoughts as much as he occupies ours.”

“Hardly, I-,” She stammered in a desperate attempt to recollect her thoughts into a single ambience. “I envy him. How is that he steps into this home for a second and I see my father smile?” Ina’s face dropped, a breath caught in her throat as her mistress spoke aloud the forbidden words she denied her staff to even breathe. The older maid had been rendered silent for too long, giving Miss Yim all of the answers she needed to press forward with her wistful assumptions.

"Perhaps if you grew to understand him, you would know why your father has inhabited such emotions for him. Think of him like a son-in-law. He will love him but not as much as he loves you." The maid reasoned.

"Then that makes him my husband." She grumbled, pulling the duvet over her shoulders.

"Now is that so bad?” Ina teased, before pulling her weight off the bed. With no strength to argue, her eyes fluttered to a close; her soul being dissolved by the night.

The following morning, it was too cold to be even sitting on her porch and with eyes tired of the same dreary scene, she ventured out of her quarters, delving into parts of the home she had missed. By the kitchens, the late Mrs Yim had reserved herself a small room decorated with the tools of all her hobbies in order to enact time alone for herself, away from motherhood and social responsibility. The room was consistently cleaned but usually left empty having it being full of painful memories of the beloved mistress of the household. For the first time in a long time, Miss Yim had felt the drive to find the room again and read her mother's poetry she had spent hours pouring over in the rooms.

Yet it had been almost shot stone-cold dead when the door opened to find San sat by the window hands raised towards the canvas. The anger within her refused to simmer or boil, it was rather the smooth swaying of the soft waves lapping the crust of sand. Her hands feebly reached for the poetry book on the table.

"I didn't know you were a painter, Mr Choi." She proclaimed, her breath hitched in her throat as her eyes sought the intricate details on the canvas. Her eyes glossed over the colours, the succinct shapes, drawing on the brushstrokes herself with the sharp movements of her eyes. It moved her. When was the last time she had been left this breathless?

"You never asked, Miss Yim." Immediately she felt intimidated by his artwork, her own revered drawings felt meek in comparison to his. A mere apprentice in an important official’s presence. To even be this close to him was considered a blessing. "You can sit next to me. I don't bite." Tentatively, she drew closer seating herself on the floorboards next to him; the brush of their fabrics sending a tidal wave of timidness over her. Where was the bold, steadfast Mrs Yim? Long gone, lost to the large expanse of the sea. Drowning under the ocean of his perfection. She didn't even want call for help, allowing herself to be enveloped by his allure. You draw so beautifully, she wanted to say. It's perfect, like something-someone even.

"You should have been a royal painter." The remark was swallowed into a melancholic void within his heart. Sparing a glance, he dipped the tip of the paintbrush into the crevice of the cerulean blue paint before raising to illustrate the canvas.

"Don't say that to my father." She sought the gloom glossed over his brown eyes. Was he, too, held down by social responsibility and expectations? She didn't think it was possible for a man's dreams to be mauled over by society; for she saw it with her father who had the whole world at his feet-picking dreams as if he was picking daisies from a meadow. Dropping her book onto the floor, she rested her head on her knee, solicitude fulfilled the serene atmosphere. Her eyes fell over the fancy metallic pots situated around the easel, which she knew to be various colours of paint pigments. Resting her head on her knee, she tenderly rocked her body from side to side as she watched his hands elegantly work through the canvases.

"Did you ever consider pottery? That's supposed to be quite popular now." Her question breaking through the quiet airs, the delicacy of her voice startling San. It was devoid of boredom, or disinterest like he had always perceived. No lace of judgement like he was silently praying to be diminished from her soul.

"It'll grow out of popularity soon." He stated, resting the paintbrush down to exercise the tense muscles in his hands. "I heard this was the late Mrs Yim's room, I hope you don't mind me being here." It, too, came as a shock to her when she shook her head-with no care in the world that he had colonised the room that she was once sure was hers.

It was sunny for once, which was odd for this time of year-she thought throwing open the door to the porch finding San surrounded by a large number of logs and an axe.

"What's he doing outside?" She pondered, Ina folding up the washed bedsheets before tucking them away into the drawers.

"They stopped properly chopping up the logs so we can use them for the fire, so Mr Choi offered to help." Wandering out through the doors, a smooth current of air tousled her hair, a book held tightly against her chest.

God, he really was toned. Rolling up the sleeves of his hanbok all the way to his bulging biceps, the maids all stopped in their path to rest their elbows on the low garden wall overseeing the vast expanse of grass. Effortlessly he picked up the axe, raising it over his head to slice down the log of wood. She rolled her eyes at her maids, as they watched him with dreamy faces. They nattered in hushed tones, giggling amongst themselves unbeknownst that their mistress was stood behind them. Leaning down to where they were sat on the garden wall, she poked her head in between the sea of charmed maidens.

“What are we looking at?” They squeaked, jumping up from their seats upon sight of their mistress- flapping their hands as some rushed back into the kitchen and others tended to garden duties. “Well? I would like to know too.”

“You wouldn’t understand Miss Yim.” Yes, yes she was the narcissistic Miss Yim who harboured no feelings for men and couldn’t deduce their charming airs. She was the Miss Yim who rejected countless marriage proposals, not based on looks but merely because she found that no man possessed the kind quality in a man that she was seeking. No patience, no loyalty. They were not even ruled by a sense of ambition. So how could she be hypnotised by the sacred beauty of a man, specifically, Choi San.

“Yes, I don’t understand why you’re not doing the job that we’re paying for you to do. All of you, out of the garden, it’s already been tended to!” She shouted, in an instant all of the maids dispersed back into the home. Huffing, she slumped onto the garden wall, glazing her ink pen over the defined lines on the page. Occasionally, she’d peer her eyes over the pages at San, tending to the curve of his body, and the horrific cinching of his waist. When he looked to his side, she hastily returned back to her sketchbook, feeling a blush decorate her cheeks as his steady gaze burned into her skin.

“Very accurate, Miss Yim.” Jumping up from her seat, she screeched the pot of ink spilling onto his face and neck. Whoops.

“Oh goodness, I am so sorry. Ah.” She let out a pained sound, battling with her internal conflict as she grabbed his hand rushing them into the direction of the porch that led to her quarters. Powerfully, she slid the door open darting inside and towards the washroom. Hauling him down to his knees in front of the washing basin, with a soaked rag in hand, she scraped away the ink splashed across his face. “Take this off.” She ordered, signalling to his hanbok.

“W-what?” He stammered, his face heating red.

“Well you’ve got ink and dirt all over it. I can get a new one for you.”

“I can’t just return back to my quarters and change?”

“Well no because then my father will see you and he’ll know I stole his ink again.” An annoyed huff escaped from his lips as she handed him the rag to clean himself. “Here, I’ll go get you a spare set of clothes.” Jumping up from where she was kneeled, her foot slipped over a puddle of water his arms snapped out towards her waist. Gripping his shoulders for stability, a faint blush trickled over her face, their noses barely an inches distance.

"Be careful." Quickly unravelling her hands from his shoulders, Miss Yim ran out of the room towards his quarters. Slipping past the double doors, she rummaged through the drawers for his clothes-picking up a light green set.

"Mr Choi?" A maid's voice called out from behind the closed door. Discerning their shadow moving closer, she made a beeline through the open doors leading into the garden. Scuttling into her washroom, she practically launched the hanbok at him before hiding in her room.

A breath of relief had finally escaped from her when he left from her room, both of their faces burning red in the midst of this shameful meeting. Yet San seemed persistent to know her, feeling that there was still something beneath the stone-cold façade she had constructed; something emotional and raw that he had felt he had to know. And Miss Yim was too becoming more curious, by the day, as to what Choi San’s secret was and why his father perpetually hated him.

Ina had forced them to go on a walk together, she groaned, silently, as they left the home behind making their way down to the meadow. At first an odd tranquillity permeated the air, eventually she grew tired of the jarring dissonance of absolutely nothing.

“A penny for your thoughts?” She inquired.

“I’ll keep the penny. I almost feel you’d judge me for having thoughts.” San bemused, she rolled her eyes, a faint of a smile on her lips. Just the tiniest, but it was practically gone within the same second.

“I don’t judge you, Mr Choi. I do, however, envy you. You’ve taken the place I wanted in my father’s heart.” She confessed, he looked towards her sympathetically, with knowingness that she was indeed right and the Mr Yim, famous for being just as aloof as his daughter, had somehow softened a little upon his arrival. Perhaps it was a son that he had always wanted, not a daughter but the scholar was reserved; San being too terrified to pry.

“Your place is best occupied elsewhere. Somebody else has it, I’m sure. He keeps it safe with love that is too potent that even dreamers can’t feign.” Of course was reading her mother's poetry, she didn't think many could understand the abstract nature of her words; of course it was him out of all who admired her poetry as it was his own.

"I am not pretty enough for that." Miss Yim argued, looking down at her feet. After all, the marriage proposals were not because of her vague good looks, but mainly because Mr Yim claimed an abundance of wealth.

"I disagree with you on that." Her face heated with his affirmation.

"Well, I am no Jang Ok-Jeong."

"There are many beautiful women in Joseon, not all of them have ever been recorded."

"She caught the eye of the King, a man who has a kingdom at his feet, he is supposed to be too superior to even look at his subjects. And he looks at her? Is that not a beautiful woman?" They were both fuelled by this argument, the debate igniting a set of powerful emotions that roared within them. This, was what they both deeply felt conversations were supposed to be. Potent discourse about society, literature and art. Not idle chatter on the weather, marriage and the social laws that subdued them.

"A man is supposed to be ruled by his head, not emotions. I say if any man bestowed more than a single glance, on a woman, and his breath was taken away, then she is more gorgeous than Venus herself."

"Not that wretched painting. It's so...vulgar." San snickered, squeezing his eyes as he let out a melodious laughter. "It says so much about the male gaze." She spat out as they trudged through the fields back in the direction of her home.

“I wonder if you like any art, at all? Other than your own?” He questioned.

“Owon is good. Apart from the vulgarity of Renaissance paintings-,”

“Which I must say is the majority of the whole movement, pray, continue.” He teased, his pestering smirk seemed to stitch wings on her heart, for it fluttered at his amiability, his devoutness to mankind and all of its endearing qualities and his perseverance. Despite her uncompromising attitudes and distasteful demeanour, he seemed compliant with listening to her, talking to her, truly trying to understand her and not just turning a blind eye. Choi San truly wanted to know her, for her; and not follow some false allegation that she was devoid of a heart or soul. He commended she had both and they were wrought with an existentialist quality that he wanted nothing but to huddle in the corner of a library and read away his life until it dissolved under the cover of her persona.

"What about you?" She questioned, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her own ear. At once, San was drawn into the world of virtuosity describing each of his favourite pieces as if it could be encapsulated into a single globe. The sweet dissonance of his voice lugging her into a dreamscape as they gently glissaded through the empty hallways of the Yim estate. They sought their eyes over the panelled wall, following the intricate lines of carved wood. They could almost be called mad people loose from the dreaded ward. For their eyes did not see the same way a normal persons did. He saw the shimmer in the air, the light poring through the crevices, the faint blemishes on a skin unseen with a naked eye-too vague to be called a taint, a mark, a scar. And she would see what he saw, whether it was not there she could reach to the depths of her sanity and pour out the image before her eyes to satisfy him.

It became a wonder to her how they spent several nights, the light patter of her feet as she rushed to his quarters with fulfilling arguments over art pieces, sharing techniques, rifling through each other's sketchbooks. His style was a stark contrast to her own: luminous watercolours, velvety acrylic paints, oily crayons. His muses were full of life and wonder, the strokes brimming with fruition. It was if a single segment of his painting held more hope than what could exist in her whole being.

There was something about him, too. She could see it now, his compassion, his adoration. As the weeks spun by, she became less repulsed by his sincerity and opened up to it more, almost finding herself craving his attention. His affection was much welcomed; she often wondered what it would be like to be so loved by him.

In her mother's old drawing room, she found him again, his large hands drifting over the pages again. Peering over his shoulder, she softly blew into his ear; the warmth tickling him.

"What are you drawing?" Her eyes scanned over the cartridge sheet, its intimacy striking her. It looked like her. Every sketch line, every shade, every little detail, every little blemish on her face.

"You." He answered, he didn't dare tear his eyes away from her for her hair was falling down her face in perfect waves that lured him into uncharted depths.

"You drew me so pretty."

"I only drew what I saw." Her heart wavered in piety, his devotion provoking an arrangement of madness. He was going to drive her insane and she was content with it.

"I wonder, what was it that you were excommunicated for?" Her silence broke through the passionate airs, culminating the objectivity that fulfilled among them as his sins held heavy on his tongue.

"I am not a scholar, a farmer or a devout son. I am an artist, a man who sees the world despite all of its maliciousness. I see the world so raw, it almost disgusts me but I am not terrified by its honesty. I find it so beautiful, it belongs on a page: drawn." Her body swayed towards him, hypnotised by his delicate words drawn his intoxicating tenacity, filling her with such immitigable rage that within that severe moment all she wanted was him. "I was 'excommunicated' because I am not the man my father wants me to be. I return as soon as I am devoid of all the emotions he renders vile." Tentatively, her fingers curled through his hair his eyes fluttering shut under her gentle touch.

"What about you Miss Yim? Why are you so solitary?" He murmured, their quiet voices serenaded the room.

"I am not solitary by choice. It's been enforced upon me and I know nothing and no one else but myself." Her whispers, though full of hurt and pain, were seldom dulcet. He thrived himself upon her words alone, it was enough to send him into delirium but her whole unmatched beauty with her words? He was sure to be sent to the wretched institute.

With an envelope gripped in her hands, she made her way over to his quarters slipping into the warmth, his smile greeting her as she slumped onto the chair in front of him.

"Mrs Choi? Your mother?" She inquired, handing over the envelope. San snickered at her nosiness, rolling her eyes as he took the sheet from her grasp, ripping open the seal to reel his eyes down the page.

"Actually, it's my wife." He announced, sparing her a single glance as he continued to read the words sprawled across the page. A sharp pang penetrated through the barriers in her heart, she felt her feet slipping under the ground, the walls pulverising as they caved in on her. For some reason, the room felt much more smaller than it was. Her heart was beating faster than any poetic declaration he had bestowed upon her, any time he had made her feel as if she was truly a worthy soul of being loved. Her heart palpitated faster than when he made her feel she would not die from a cataclysmic loneliness.

"I didn't know you were married." She breathed out, gripping the sage green silk in hand; feeling almost disgusted with herself for fixating her whole being on a man who never belonged to her in the beginning.

"We'll be officially married when I return back home." With a teasing smile on his lips, he grabbed a clean sheet from his desk and began elegantly carving the characters onto the page. "I'll be sure to send you an invite, if you'll come?"

“Of course, I’ll come. You know, for the food.” She quipped, his dimpled smile shattering the months of pining she had set for this revered soul. “I’ll take your leave, San.”

She fled from the room her bare feet blessing the sweet earth, the velvety wisps of the wind taunting her as tears welled up in her eyes. With a breath hitched in her throat, she fell onto her bed; bottom lip quivering as pearl tears escaped from her eyes dribbling down her cheeks before splattering onto the bedsheets. Her painful howl terrorised the desolate quarters as she had done on several dispassionate nights, the skies mimicked her torment, the light patter of rain hit against the window as if it understood all her wretched emotions. As if it understood her anger, hatred and hurt. As if it understood how disgusting it felt be left vulnerable by a man who could never be hers.

Was it some false delusion that she had been seduced by? That he, who was carved from a sculpturers most wild emotions, by all of his tenacity and his violent rage that he wished to create a being made of light: could truly be hers? By his yearning and pent up sentiment, by his dying wish that this world was not at peace until some divine figure from a concealed land would touch her world? Her hands shook as she sought to remove the tears streaming endlessly down her face. After all it had now made sense to all of the sympathetic souls that had heard her be plunged through such pain, to read her tale and understand the reason for her aloof nature.

Up the walls went back up. Brick by brick.

Curse you, Choi San, for breaking them down in the first place.

San had not seen Miss Yim for the remainder of the week or the subsequent. Granted, he had been flooded with an overwhelming amount of work but such was to be expected with the incredible staff shortage and Mr Yim’s high expectations. Regardless, he missed the snarky comments and unrelenting stares from across the room. He missed her moodiness, how ever infuriating it was at times; he missed the sense of quietude she presented at his feet and its ability to render his mind numb. Overall, he missed her. Yet, she seemed to be nowhere in sight and in fact missing even under the cover of the night.

“Ina, do you know where I can find Miss Yim?” He questioned, the agony rupturing the sutures of his weak heart apart.

"In her room, Mr Choi. She's, specifically, requested not to see anyone." Oh. His mood deflated after that concession, wracking his mind for all the things he had said in their last engagement; anything potentially hurtful or offensive but he didn’t recall anything particularly endangering. His quest to venture into her quarters, despite her ruthless commands which had the servants petrified over her uncharacteristic (but not abnormal) behaviour, had been cut short by Mr Yim’s desire to keep a tightened hold on the apprentice. He thought about bringing it up as he ate dinner with his mentor.

“How is Miss Yim? I heard she’s isolated herself in her quarters?” He raised, tentatively, as Mr Yim’s eyes scoured down the reports. Her father was a little too quick to dismiss her actions.

“Never mind her, that’s not something new. I was surprised she was even roaming around the house when you arrived…” Mr Yim trailed off as a thought infiltrated his mind, shutting the book close, his furrowed brows silenced the questions in San’s mind.

The moonlight spilt in through the window, the luminous shadows dancing with the light breeze. With dried tear tracks staining her puffy cheeks, she circulated her finger around the cotton sheets pulling up the heavy duvet over her shoulders, a trail of heat comforted her. The door to her room, silently, slid open; oblivious to the soft bustling of footsteps she stretched her limbs sitting up in her bed.

“Miss Yim?” Her head snapped up at the deep voice, its familiarity sending an agonising wave of heartache through her being. There he was, the perpetrator himself, settling in front of her with a teacup in his palms as if nothing had happened in the first place. “Are you ok? I know you don’t like echinacea, so I got you lemon and ginger tea.” Placing the tea cup on her night stand, he rested his palm against her forehead.

“What are you doing here, San?” Huffing, she fisted up the hair in her palms before sticking a dry paint brush through it to create a tight knot.

“You’re burning u- were you crying?” His finger lightly smoothed her damp skin, shaking her head she pushed his hand away from her face. God, she felt awful for his wife who had to endure his infidelity. “What’s wrong, jagiya, speak to me?” Biting down on her lower lip, Miss Yim threw her gaze out of her window, she sought the light shimmering as her vision blurred.

“Just leave, please.” There was no more hostility left in her tone, a coarse throat lacerated with the phlegm that built up from endless nights of sobbing herself to sleep. Tiredness gnawed at her, she just wanted to dissolve back into the covers. Pleading, begging she’d do whatever she could to force him to leave because if he didn’t then she would tear down the path to the Angel of Death and beg him to take her dwindling heart. On her knees she would go, for the mere sight of her lover crumbled the steadfast walls she had tried so hard to rebuild.

“Are you upset because I’m going home next week? If that’s the case-,”

“San, are you dense?” She interrupted. He was subjugated to silence, a look of hurt flashing over his face. “Leave means leave.” Adjusting her body so she could slide under the covers, she stridently hauled the fabric over her head, gripping her lips tight shut, so no more pitiful sobs escaped her and she was no more a servant to his cruel love.

The Yim estate was left with a melancholic air as the venerated bachelor made his preparations to leave the home. The maids were forlorn as they’d no longer have the privilege of seeing his striking face to bless their monotone days. Miss Yim had finally mustered the courage to take a stroll through the garden, avoiding San's quarters at that. Lingering by the flowers, she wrapped her arms around herself to manifest a sense of warmth that failed to prevail with the awful weather. She didn't notice her lover tear down the garden to her, his heart leaping within his own chest.

"Miss Yim?" Her body whipped around upon his words, her hands balled up into fists the anger displaced by fear. "Do you know how painful it has been for me to go days without seeing you? I am leaving for Yangdong, today, and god knows if I didn't even so much as see your face I would have gone feral."

"I- why?" She stuttered, at a desperate attempt to collect together her words and form a sentence. How and when did he culminate such passionate feelings for her?

"Why? Isn't it obvious? I am in love with you." He declared, she shook her head, profusely, at him.

"How can you say that?" Her voice raised an octave, parrying against the harsh winds that blew at them.

“If being in love with you is a deadly sin, then I am the greatest sinner there is. I will walk up to the gates of hell and open them myself. Hand over my arms and ask them to bound me to its greatest depths.” His chest heaved up and down, tears brimming at the front of her eyes. “I cannot live without you. I would not even do so much as breathe unless you asked me to. If you asked me to stop breathing, I would!”

“You’re a married man, San. Do you know how god awful that sounds?”

“I’m barely married but engaged. When I go back home, I will once again beg to not be wed off to her. I don’t love her, how can my father expect me to marry her? How can you expect me to marry her?”

“I don’t think you understand, San. I can’t love you.” His arms outstretched for her waist, hauling her towards him, the rain beating down on them both. With the gentle flick of his finger, her head tipped up to peer into his eyes.

“Look into my eyes and tell me you don’t love me, or even feel as much as a small emotion for me. One word from you, would silence me forever.” She bit furiously down on her lip as his vehement fixation tore through the borders of her soul. When did she fall so vulnerable in his conquest for her being?

“I don’t love you the same way you love me. I am incapable of doing so.” His own brown eyes fulfilled with hot tears, pouring soundlessly down his cheeks. Her heart wavered with misery as he ripped away his grip, stumbling backwards upon her untruth.

“I understand. Thank you, Miss Yim. For the first time in my life, someone saw me for who I really am and not who I am meant to be.” Once again, the thunder cracked against the sky as San turned his back on her striding back into the home. The maids ran out to shut the doors, summoning their mistress back in but she sunk to the floor erupting into a fit of sobs; a wave of shock rattling through them. Her heart burned with such pain, even as Ina cooed lifting her up from the floor to guide her back into the home. Melting into the older woman's arms, her ears drowned out the distant sound of her lover ambling far, far away from her to a land in which even its notion would never grace the depths of her mind.

Her father's office was warm, but not the comforting kind as the biting airs of Joseon persisted. It was more suffocating as they sat across from each other in his office, discussing the state of her future now that he had managed to complete some of burdening tasks at work. He had several proposals lined in front of her, some prospects from his workplace, some from Mr Kang and even Ina had managed to find one or two seemingly agreeable men within their social class. A sigh fulfilled her, it would be a lie to say that she didn't look for the smallest hint of San within them all.

"I'm sorry Father, I don't like any of these men." He closed his eyes in indignation, rubbing his face before collecting the sheets from in front of her and throwing them into the fire. The embers cackled in a slow, seething ferocity as he leaned back in his chair.

"I honestly don't know what to do with you anymore. You won't marry, you won't leave your quarters. You've stopped helping around the house. All you want to do is sit in your room all day and stare into space." He scolded, she shook her head before raising from her seat. "You are becoming a burden to me."

"Well if I am such a burden to you, then just get rid of me." She taunted. An animosity truanted through him at her discourtesy.

“What do you think I have been trying to do since your mother left us? It should have not been your mother that had died! It should have been you! I would trade my soul to have your mother in place of you.” He blurted, before quickly slapping the palm of his hand to his mouth, cursing him for the spoiled words that left it.

“I would trade my soul too, to have my mother where you stand. You are a poor excuse of a man and to call you my father is an insult to me.” She hissed through gritted teeth, the shock reverberating at Mr Yim’s core; the severity of her words pulsating through his blood.

“You shouldn’t have been a father if all I was going to be to you was a pretty doll in a picture. The truth was she didn’t die because she was ill, it was the heartbreak of carrying a whole marriage on her back. It was the fact that you didn’t care about her wants, but your own.”

"You are in no position to say that to me. I loved your mother like it was breathing, I loved her as if she was the greatest blessing, as if God had granted me mercy for all the times I had done him wrong." His chest suspired, brittle hands shaking as a heavy tension remained suspended in the air between them; Ina loitering outside afraid to walk into the war zone.

"But you didn't love me! It was my mother who loved me, and I wasn't allowed to have her! I wasn't my mother's daughter, or my father's. I was a daughter of a servant with my name merely attached to you." At the end of the day, she was the figure in those paintings. Trapped within a frame, four equidistant lines on a piece of cartridge paper, bound by brushstrokes, sketch lines, constricted and held down by the artist. Subservient and stuck to a position in which she could not move.

Mr Yim deserved the brutal honesty of those words, no matter how harsh it was, and with a pounding headache, she ran out of his office ignoring her father’s calls for her to return to his side. This was it, there was nothing and no one by her side now and she was now the destitute figure that she had feared she would become.

“What’s wrong my dear? What’s hurt you so much?” Ina’s soft voice dilapidated at her mistress’ gloom, one she had seen prolong within her late madam too. Squeezing her eyes shut, she summoned the courage to spill her heart to her maid. She told her of how much she adored him, how deeply she wanted him and the ways in which he had made her fall in love with him. And how he had hurt her too.

“So call me heartless and apathetic all you want but I couldn’t take another woman’s man from her.”

“My love.” Ina’s weak fingers travelled through her hair. “You are far from heartless and apathetic. A man who you love is your whole life, you gave your life away to another woman.” She looked over to Ina, falling into her motherly embrace, breathing in her scent. There it was. The same scent that her mother had, the scent she was dreaming to come back to her in the midst of the night, and her a fool to dismiss that it was in front of her the whole time.

“What should I do now?” Her weak inquiry, breaking her heart, sinking deeper into the void than she already was.

“Go back to him and tell him you love him. He is a gentleman who accepts despondency like a soldier. So you, his general, must go back and tell him to return home to you.”

“Ina-,”

“Do not deny yourself of what you deserve. Your mother did, I won’t see you walk the same path.”

“I will let time run its cycle. Time will tell if he is meant to be mine.” She declared, to which the maid rested her palm on her cheek.

Mrs Kang’s baby boy, Kang Minho, was indeed a beauty. His bedazzling little eyes stared up at her in wonder, babbling as she lightly drew the tip of her finger over his chubby cheeks. It was astonishing for Mrs Kang to see that it was merely a little baby that would eruct a smile out of the secluded Miss Yim. It had been about four months since San had left the estate, and a while it took for her to leave the confines of her quarters. Once again, she took requests after requests painting and painting until her hands became stiff and sore. And so even more marriage prospects came, and her eyes lingered slightly over a potential husband. Both Ina and her father were pleased when she stayed a little longer at the doorway of their home talking to one of the young apprentice’s at the office. He was tall, handsome and kind; perhaps it was flickers of San she saw within him that had her thinking that spending the rest of her life with this man: wouldn’t be particularly gruesome. Regardless, she made no firm decision but still, for her father this was significant progress.

“He likes you.” Mrs Kang chimed, grinning down at her baby. She hummed carefully, softly tickling his smooth cheeks.

“Maybe I like him too.” Her gaze lightly flickered to the elated mother. “Where is Yeosang? I didn’t see him on my way in?”

“Oh he’s in his office with San.” Her head snapped up from the baby at the sound of his name. Goodness, how long had it been since she had heard that single syllable name, forever it seemed it would merely reverberate inside her head. “Did you not know he was in town? He came to see Minho.” Shaking her head, she got up from the bed consoling herself.

“I- I think I’ll leave now. I’ll come visit another time.” She announced, before awkwardly patting Mrs Kang’s head; a poor endeavour at affection but for Mrs Kang this affection was whole-heartedly appreciated. Her footsteps sped down the hallways, she came to an abrupt halt at the exist of the Kang estate.

There he was, stood there with Yeosang conversing if they were age-old best friends her heart palpitated with anxiety, knowing that she’d have to walk past him again. The sight of him almost triggered her, she gripped onto her deep purple skirts, his own yellow hanbok beaming like the sun.

“Miss Yim! I didn’t know you had arrived, leaving so soon?” Mr Kang chirped from the door. She shook at her head at him.

“I’ve been here for over an hour and a half. I’ll visit another time, especially since Minho is the only tolerable person in this household.”

“Just say you love him.” A grumble erupted from her lips, she rolled her eyes- with a delicate playfulness- before squeezing past the pair of men. A pounding of footsteps travelled after her as she trudged back through the fields in the direction of her home.

“Miss Yim, allow me to accompany you.” San professed, breathlessly. With a diligent nod, she transgressed forwards ignoring his burning gaze into her skin. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine. What about you?” He responded he was great all the same, reporting that the weather in Yangdong was a little warmer than in her hometown.

“When is your wedding date? I’m still awaiting on an invite.” It was a joke, nonetheless, but one that didn't hesitate to puncture holes in her heart.

“We broke off the engagement, it was mutual really. She was in love with someone else.” With a breath lodged in her throat, her stare tore away from the fields piercing straight into his eyes. It was then she had realised how burdened he truly was. Where was the San that always smiled and joked, and was so full of love it seemed inhumane to have so much of it? They didn't need to say anything to each other in that moment, they stopped walking subsided to a silent, paralysed position. "I think I'll just take your leave." His voice quivered, sending a jolt of agony through her.

Hadn't she made him suffer enough? After all he was the same man who loved her as if she was the vessel that kept the blood running through his veins, his heart beating and his feet walking.

Go back to him and tell him you love him.

Tell him to return back home to you.

His body almost disappeared behind the vast expanse of buildings, when she raced down the fields, as fast as her legs could carry her, ignoring the vicious ache gnawing at her muscles and the agitated pounding of her heart against her chest. Tearing down the path towards him, in the chance that if she didn't run any faster she was going to lose her lover to the wind.

"San!" Her shout echoed in the breeze, but reached to his ears anyway, a tug at the weak strings that had barely held down his soul. He turned, so desperate that she would come to him like she had done in the dead of the night. Feeling his lover crawl into his arms, pledging that she would never leave from his side.

"Miss Yim, what's wrong?"

“I lied to you, when I said I didn’t love you. I really, really do, I almost feel disgusted by it. I never thought, that someone as ruthless and as cold as me would be privileged enough to fall in love but when you entered my life I felt like my mother.” She sucked in a deep breath, her lover making gentle steps toward her as the wind whipped their hair. “I felt like her when she said: ‘If he was the muse in a painting, to be an object, a fleck of paint, or even dust on it would be my greatest honour.’” Warm tears forged in his eyes, biting down his bottom lip to prevent them from escaping. She wanted to outstretch her arms towards him but it was too soon.

“So, Choi San, it’s an honour to be loved by you. I came back, because I had to tell you that. I hurt you so much. I was scared that being vulnerable to love would only hurt me but the only person who gave me such torment was myself.” Her confession disturbed her, yet it was the unspoken truth that only he was entitled to. A tense silence suffused the air as she pended his response, but all he could do was try to convince himself that it was not a dream and she really had said all of the words he had spent countless nights praying that she would declare.

“I love you, Miss Yim. I loved you yesterday, I love you today and I will love you for eternity. There is simply nothing that one can do to tear my heart away from yours, not even you.”

"Do you mean that?" It was a stupid question, but she could not help the words be spilled from her mouth. He nodded violently.

"I do. With my whole entity." Choking back on her sobs, her arms reached out for him throwing them around his neck. Nuzzling her face in the crook of his neck, her grip tightened as he ensnared his hands around her waist; breathing in her scent as if it was oxygen. "Come home with me my dear, come home and be mine."

•••

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

'Yim' meaning light

A/N: the long awaited painter!san fic (with a twist 😏) that i've been waiting too long to put out. I hope you liked this one. :))

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

tags: @n0v4t33z @potatos-on-clouds @jjongwho

221 notes · View notes

sapphoherselz · 4 months ago

Text

howdy!! two literal people have asked for some andreil rec so here they are!! my most favest fics EVER in the first 60 ao3 pages (I'll keep updating tho as I read!)

Not yours to bleed:

The Pros were never in the cards. Not for an ex-medicated alleged psychotic with a dysfunctional family and an Exy career he’d rather not have. But even if it wasn't his first choice, no matter what happens, it can’t possibly be worse than that one fucked up sophomore year when he stood toe to toe with the Yakuza-and won.

At least, that’s what Andrew thinks until a familiar face shows up.

Another Raven!Neil AU. Or, the one where the boys don’t meet until the Pros.

**Updates every other Wednesday, whatever hell may come.**

The Sun Still Rises:

Somewhere on the road, Mary Hatford gets pregnant with her second child. When she passes, she leaves behind not only Neil, but his toddler brother. Survival is difficult without also raising a kid. Worn out and desperate, Neil still somehow ends up at Palmetto, only this time, he brings his four-year-old brother with him.

TALE OF A MARTYR IN XII PARTS:

Neil closes his eyes and counts the things that he knows:

One: Death has a name.

Two: He has met Death before. Several times, in fact.

Three: Someone is trying to kill him. Permanently. But it's only kind of working.

Or, the one in which Andrew is the Grim Reaper, Neil is very, very good at dying, over and over and over again. They teach each other a few things over the centuries.

Hearthlines:

The Fae king and queens have gone away, closing the knowes behind them and abandoning their offspring to the mortal world. As the Fae have spread far and wide, their bloodlines thinning if not vanishing forever as they flee from mortal persecution... two Fae have found a way to reopen the knowes - Kayleigh Day and Tetsuji Moriyama. The Fae regroup once more, the balance of power shifted amongst them, and 'changelings' appear now and then in the mortal population.

Andrew Doe is one of those changelings, a young child suffering in the foster system, shunned by his peers for some reason and hearing voices in his head.

Alex - the latest name gifted to him by a charm - is on the run along with his mother from his father, using their talents as shadow walkers to slide between worlds and stay one step ahead of the powerful Fae. Except even that is not enough anymore. Except that's not Alex's only talent.

*******

An urban fantasy where I throw Fae, necromancy and magic at TFC characters, pretty much!

Scared to Live (But I'm Scared to Die):

Neil Josten goes to the Nest for Andrew, but he stays for a lot more.

"I'm sorry Coach," he muttered.

"For what kid?" Wymack shifted. "You've got to give me something to work with here."

Wymack watched the thin traces of sorrow as paper exchanged hands and he was looking down at a contract with the Edgar Allan Raven's.

"I signed them Coach, I'm sorry."

The one where Neil doesn't come back from Winter Break.

Amor Vincit Omnia:

“I said it already,” the man said, “Your cluster.”

“But what does that mean?” Neil asked.

“It means that you are no longer just you,” the man said tersely, “Congratulations.”

It didn’t feel like anything worth celebrating.

A Sense8 AU where the foxes all share one subconscious and kick a lot of ass

The Real Thing:

Andrew was more than willing to turn down the Ravens' offer to be their newest goalie, unwilling to play five more years of Exy - let alone for someone with a too-sharp smile and a manic gleam in their eyes.

That was, until he realized that a member of their Perfect Court was his soulmate. (That was, until Riko Moriyama realized that Nathaniel Wesninski, the Ravens' #3 in waiting, was Andrew's soulmate.)

Andrew always knew that Fate loved tormenting him, he didn't need a reminder yet again via a too-attractive soulmate who appeared to loathe him. Yet things aren't always what they seem, especially in the Nest.

mad girl says she's wolf-proof:

Keeping her grip light on Nina’s throat, Andrea drops her gaze to her plump lips. She smiles—coldly, slowly. Fangs on fangs. Salt tombstones. It is not a nice smile, none of Andrea’s smiles are, but Nina’s eyes are stuck in it regardless. “And I will answer, all the better to eat you with.”

(Andrea Dobson vs girlhood and lycanthropy.)

lessons in caretaking:

Neil was acting shifty, and Andrew knew why; that motherfucker was leaving. Despite the promise between them, Neil was prepping to run. Andrew wasn't upset about that, not at all. After all, if notorious Neil "No-Swing" Josten needed to leave after Andrew admitted his desires regarding his proximity to Neil's shorts, who was Andrew to stop him. But that doesn't explain why Neil was stealing socks, or why he wanted Andrew's clothes.

Whatever. That was probably unrelated.

Sauntering Vaguely Downwards:

They’ve known each other since the Beginning. Not the Beginning Beginning—they didn’t meet until after the War in Heaven, where they kept to their own sides, or until after the subsequent Fall. It wasn’t even until after the Exodus from Eden, but only by a couple minutes. They’ve witnessed the rise and fall of empires, sampled all the cuisines the world has to offer, and weathered several very silly fashion trends.

Andrew doesn’t think they’re friends, exactly, but it is natural to become accustomed to the presence of the only other being who has been around more or less consistently for six millennia. It wasn’t anything more meaningful than that.

A Good Omens AU where Andrew is a grumpy angel, Neil is a sharp-tongued serpent, and it takes them literally six thousand years to figure out they belong together.

#aftg #neil josten #andreil #all for the game #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #andreil fic #fic rec #aftg fic rec #aftg fic

207 notes · View notes

mins-fins · 2 months ago

Text

ANGEL EYES. — [L.MH] [PREVIEW]

❝ sometimes, it feels as if mark lee is your guardian angel ❞

SYNOPSIS: innocent cherub eyes, gently soft hands, a heart of gold, mark lee is the golden boy whose experienced as much love as he gives back. his grades are high, his smile is wide, and his laughter is sweet. the only reason mark lee gets embroiled in a world of trouble is because of his pairing with the 'messed up foster kid' in a school project. it would be stupid to ever let himself get involved, but mark does anyway.

PAIRING: mark lee x male!reader

GENRE: mid–2000s au, high school au, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, humor(?), slow burn, one sided pining to mutual pining, sadness as a romantic segway, relationship study, reader is a foster kid, mark pov, happy ending.. (i suppose)

WARNINGS: swearing, explicit language, violence, drug abuse, child abuse & neglect, family issues, mentions of death, smoking, homophobia, reader simply has the worst time and mark sobs about his circumstances, an awful amount of love that isn't realized to be love

WORD COUNT: 2.7k (preview) | ..pending (full fic)

NOTES: hello everyone, this is my baby, the birth was very special, i love my baby so much 💗 listen! i started this in early august and i am STILL going, this going to be LONG.. longest mins-fins work ever long 😞 im estimating 30–40k, the power of mark lee yall 😇 it's going to go on forever, and it's definitely going to be sad in some ways, i am currently about to hit 20k words.. sooooiooooo 😊😊 i hope you like this preview bc i really dk when the real thing is coming out 😭😭 im in so much pain rn, let me nap now 😴

BEFORE IT WAS IN THE CRISP AUTUMN ATMOSPHERE, mark lee had met you at the local police station. it was only a few months prior, august of 2004 brought the prospect of donghyuck doing everything to try and get arrested, prospects that mark could only respond with under the breath swears. he loves donghyuck, he really does, but driving shouldn't have been his first choice. in all of the friendships mark has had with other people in his life, donghyuck has always brought a wave of chaos along with him, the exact opposite of who mark's mom would advise him to stay away from, but she'd always had a soft spot for him, mark can't exactly blame her.

fresh off turning seventeen and utterly clueless as to what the future would bring, mark only found himself at the police station for one reason. donghyuck had driven without a license. yep, sixteen years old and he assumed doing an illegal u-turn was the way to end his summer.

mark has always been a stand up kid. the kind who handed out his mom's cookies to the neighbors. the kind who called for stray cats in alleyways. the kind who was simply an innocent bystander to all the bullshit his friends would pull.

so when donghyuck called him from a jail phone, voice heightened in indignation as he begged for mark to come make a case for him, the older really had no choice but to do so. mark had never been to a police station before, afraid of catching sight of real criminals in the flesh by just walking past the building. he had heard too many scary stories, had terrible ideas of human beings planted in his head.

and even as a seventeen year old who had experienced life enough that such things shouldn't have terrified him anymore, there was still a small pit in his stomach as he rounded the corner in direction of the building.

"and how exactly am i supposed to bail you out?" an eyebrow raise accompanied mark's inquiry, and donghyuck scoffed as he shook his cuffed hands.

"you don't have to bail me out, my dad knows the sheriff, i'm just getting off with a warning" he whispered, sweat on his brow as he shared that familiar 'no shit' look with mark (an ironic expression really, he's the only one between the two of them that's been in cuffs).

mark snickered. "you talk so much when you're the one handcuffed".

"watch your mouth, you need me".

just as donghyuck was about to let out a swear in addition to his snappy response, said sheriff walked into the room, tight lipped smile painting his face. "don't try that again donghyuck, or next time you'll end up in a cell".

in a instant, donghyuck's blood ran cold, mark almost laughed at the sight, but he remained still, watching. the older man glanced up, catching mark's anxiety ridden eyes. "and you are?"

"this is mark, my best friend" donghyuck was quick to quip, a hand placed onto his shoulder.

mark's stomach dropped to his feet, it isn't as if he did anything wrong, it was simply on par for him to be severely anxious around law enforcement in general, he was just afraid he'd somehow get arrested for nothing at all.

"ohhh i remember you, i used to assume you two were brothers".

mark let out a breathy (and clearly faked) chuckle, trying to bury his anxiety. he could never explain it, even if you gave him all the words to, it's not like he's a bad kid, he just finds himself tensing often. "no, just friends.."

"it's good to have someone so close as support" he narrowed his eyes at donghyuck, who stifled his scoff at the clear sarcasm lacing his tone. he then scrunched his nose, watching as donghyuck placed a performative smile on his lips. "now you, sir, we need to have a talk".

donghyuck frowned, whining out complaints as he's dragged away by the sheriff. "can you wait, mark?"

mark blinked, shoving his hands into his pant pockets. he nodded, out of words. the two bantered back and forth like friends, something mark could only stare idly at. he made his way over to the seats beside the door, where, nestled in the corner of one of them, was you.

you were scribbling something into your notebook, unaware of the eyes on you. mark sat two chairs away from you, tapping his feet onto the floor as he heard the faint sounds of scoldings. safe driving, don't get into a car without a license, your future won't be any better if you continue this shit.

swearing at a child, mark found that rich. he glances beside him again, now watching you intently. you were engrossed in the manner your pen scratched against your paper, mark had figured out through endless staring that you hadn't been writing, but drawing.

you avoided his eyes for a while, ignorant to the eyes gazing you up and down. you then glanced in mark's direction, almost startling him out of his seat with the sudden stare. you blinked, puzzled out of your mind. "is there something on my face?"

mark tensed in his seat, feeling his stomach swirl, was he staring so much that you felt offended? he felt guilty immediately, his lips parting immediately and releasing a silent breath. "no.. no i'm sorry, i didn't mean to".

you shrugged your shoulders, one click to your pen. mark recognized you, but he simply couldn't conjure up an explanation as to why you were sitting in a police station at this time, drawing whatever into your notebook. "so why are you staring then?"

"i'm trying to figure out why you're here" mark muttered, fingers fiddling with his necklace as he tried to get his tone straight in fear of again offending you. "i'm sure you aren't committing crimes".

"i can say the same for you, mr golden boy".

mark's lips turned up slightly, his hands twitching from where they rested on his lips. "i got kicked out.. always come here to let dad and mom cool off for a few hours".

the words earned an eyebrow raise from mark, that was strange to hear, especially from another person in regards to their own parents. mark had never really experienced such a thing, the way you described it made his nose scrunch. "what?"

before you could respond to that one, a police officer entered the room, one you seemed to recognize by the way your eyes lit up. "come on l/n, time to go".

a frown settled onto your lips. "do i really have to go now? you know how my parents are.."

"i can't keep you here, it would technically be illegal".

"it's not like they'll care anyway.." you mumbled, slamming your notebook shut with yet another click to your pen. "just an hour longer, please?"

there was a sense of hope in your eyes, maybe he would actually take your words into account. mark simply stared, staggered by what he was witnessing. the officer watched the change of your expressions, your thumb playing at the button on your pen, continuously clicking over and over. as the clicks amplified, so did the sound of your labored breathing.

"you know i can't do that kid".

your frown deepened, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. worry, that's what mark remembered. your eyes widened, but not in the usual shock, simply in disappointment. you cursed under your breath, muttering something about your parents getting pissed at your reappearance. you stopped clicking your pen, letting the chagrin settle onto you. "yeah.."

you sucked your teeth, imitating the look of a sulky child. mark was consumed by his silence, completely confused by the situation. he didn't give a comment, simply watched the whole entire thing happen. "i'll give you a few minutes, don't worry".

you didn't respond to that one, your eyes following the police officer who strolled out the door towards his car. you bit into your lip again, hands grasping onto your notebook and thumb still pressing onto your pen. "what bullshit".

mark continued staring, his hands clutching at his thighs. you then glanced at him once more, causing for him to flinch back. you stayed silent, watching him as much as he did you a few minutes prior.

"are you alright?" he muttered, leaving his voice at a low volume. he didn't want to raise it, he wanted to keep it at a volume that kept you comfortable.

you snickered, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth. "fine, going home is just my worst nightmare".

mark's fingers found themselves sliding across his legs, teeth sliding against each other in back and forth motions. he blinked his big brown eyes, staring with an assured gaze he hoped would somehow make it's way to you. "i'm sorry".

he whispered those two words as if he was in physical pain, eyes watering for an inexplainable moment. he couldn't help it, and he had no idea why he couldn't help it. it was embarrassing how much he felt at the moment.

you stared back, lips pursuing. your expressions did at least seventy transformations, as if you were in disbelief at someone having empathy for you. you seemed distraught, why is he tearing up? that's so strange.

you chuckled, hoping it would quell his worries. "it's okay, not like it's your fault".

"still, you shouldn't have to feel that way about going home.. your parents shouldn't be kicking you out".

you grimaced, put off by the words. it isn't as if they were terrible, you just seemed.. astonished. why did he care? it was simply weird to you.

"well thank you for your concern but i'll be fine".

mark blinked away the tears threatening to escape his eyes, god what was wrong with him? why did he even tear up at that? he totally weirded you out.

"yeah um.. i'm sorry" mark bit into his inner cheek, letting out a heavy sigh. "just have a good day" a theatric smile placed itself on his lips, he was definitely trying to convince himself that it wasn't that bad of a situation.

you stared longer, seemingly itching to say something. there were words resting on the tip of your tongue, mark could practically sense it. "yeah, you too".

and when you stood up to walk out of the door, donghyuck coincidentally escaped the clutches of the sheriff, stumbling out of his office with his arms crossed over his chest. the door closed behind you, and mark watched the entire time.

"what took you so long?" mark uttered, eyes casting donghyuck's way.

the younger huffed in his usual donghyuck manner, hands on his hips. "he was giving me a big talk about safe driving" he placed heavy air quotes around the last two words, lips curled into a frown.

mark licked his teeth, his thoughts retracing back to you. "do you know him..?"

donghyuck blinked, his mouth opening to ask about who until he saw the way mark motioned his head. "y/n? oh yeah, he's around here all the time, the officers basically take him in whenever.."

"why?"

his voice scratched like sandpaper, donghyuck wincing at the tone. he then shrugged his shoulders, his attitude puzzled. "something about his parents not really caring, it's pretty shitty".

mark's lips parted in a freezing motion, his stomach pain only worsening. "that's scary.. feeling safer at the police station than your own home".

"i don't know much about his situation, just know his parents have a terrible temper".

mark swallowed the lump in his throat, his head beginning to pound at the information given. he tried to distract himself by thinking about school coming up soon, but he was snapped back into reality by donghyuck.

"why are you even asking me about y/n?"

mark glanced up at his childhood friend, a small whisper in his mind telling him to lie. "just curious that's all".

the lie laid bitter on his tongue, but he didn't allow for donghyuck to dwell on it, rising from the chair he's practically glued himself to. "promise me you'll never illegally drive again, the officers here look like they wanna kill me".

donghyuck rolled his eyes, tease evident in his attitude. "okay markie, promise".

mark pushed his shoulder in retaliation.

that? that was two months ago.

before the crisp autumn weather drifted through the atmosphere, before the leaves began falling to decorate the ground in orange and brown hues, mark lee had met you at the local police station. your legs crossed, pen clicking, and nose buried into your notebook.

september came and went rather quickly, the scorching heat of the summer air transforming into the russet autumn scenery which drifts into october. the temperature steadily dropping, sweaters becoming more and more common in his closet, mark can't exactly focus in class during the first few months of school.

when mark hears his name fall from his teacher's lips in pair with yours, he snaps out of an episode of disassociation, blinking up. "what?"

his teacher deadpanned, readjusting her glasses. she doesn't even seem surprised by his lack of focus anymore, his exhaustion is constantly evident. "project partners mark, you'll be paired with y/n".

mark only parts his lips in response, the words rendering him speechless. he glances around the classroom as he listens to the older woman's voice blurs into the background, catching sight of you in the far back, again scribbling into your notebook, your manner reminiscent of how you acted the first time you two met.

he stares for a while before again looking forward, his mouth going dry as he tries again to focus, but of course, he can't. his mind stays focused on you throughout the whole class, even after the endless words he lets blur away.

you spin your pen between your fingers, it's the same pen you had that day, maybe you have some sort of attachment to it or something, maybe it's your favorite pen, maybe someone special gifted that pen to you.

maybe mark's letting it all get to his head, why is he even making assumptions when he hasn't walked up to you yet?

while everyone else rushes to leave the class, mark rises from his seat and again glances over at you, slinging his back over his shoulder.

you're riveted by what you're doing in your notebook, so absorbed that you barely hear the shuffling footsteps making their way around the many desks towards yours. your lips turn down as you smudge the ink on the page, a small suck of the teeth adding to your frustration.

"um.. hi" mark whispers, watching as you glance up and pause, one click to your pen. you don't respond immediately, studying mark for a while, and mark tenses up under your gaze, sucking a breath between his teeth.

"hi".

"we uh— were partners for the project".

your smile is neutral. "i know".

mark began biting the skin off his lips, hands gripping at his backpack. "i don't know where you want to start, uh.. maybe we could go to the library?"

he's just saying what he's hoping will work. he doesn't exactly know you yet, he assumes your one off interaction at the police station left a sour taste in your mouth.

but unbeknownst to mark's anxious inner voice, you smile, not exactly a neutral one this time, a much better smile ('better' in terms of expression, your lips stretch into an aspect of satisfaction).

"that'd be nice".

mark nods, almost too enthusiastically he thinks. how embarrassing. you let out a silent yawn, oblivious to the battle mark is having in his head. "tomorrow maybe we can start?"

your smile again becomes neutral, but at least mark doesn't think you want to kill him. "yeah, tomorrow is fine".

tomorrow. tomorrow is fine.

"okay, have a good day y/n".

mark rushes out of the classroom much too fast, he feels a little terrified of you. maybe you don't exactly want to kill him, maybe you just look at everyone else in that way, maybe it won't be that bad to be paired with you.

still, mark isn't sure why his mind tells him he should stay away from you.

#mark lee #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct u #mark nct #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #mark lee imagines #mark lee drabbles #mark lee scenarios #mark lee x reader #nct x reader #mark lee x male reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

92 notes · View notes

icarusignite · 1 year ago

Note

Hey Autor,

Could you maybe make a Reader Velaryon/Targaryen x Cregan stark?

The reader is the daughter of Rhaenyra and Laenor (the real father is Daemon Targaryen) and the eldest child of Rhaenyra and the heiress of the iron throne.The reader is sent to the Starks at the age of 14 to live with them for some time (no idea what reason there might be). Cregan doesn’t like the reader at first and is mean to her.At some point, the two get closer and fall in love. Maybe just kisses could arise between them no more. After she was with the Starks for some time, one day a lord comes with his daughter maybe Alysanne Blackwood and her father. Because Cregan is engaged to her and should marry her soon,He never told the reader that he was promised to someone else and the reader gets angry. Cregan wants to talk to her but she ignores him. Cregan does not take action against the wedding and marries Alysanne. Alysanne notices that the reader is angry and and provoke her. reader says goodbye to Lord and Lady stark, While Cregan spends time with Alyssane to get to know her. Reader flies home on her dragon because she doesn’t want to be at the wedding. After years, a war in the north has broken out and seems to be lost. Rhaenyra sends the reader and Jace to the north to help the Starks and end the war with their dragons. Cregan has a child with alysanne (but she should still be alive please.) She's still bitter and full of anger. Maybe the two could have a happy ending because Cregan really loved the reader, he didn’t want to hurt her, but it’s called a stark doesn’t break an oath. Of course, the reader does not forgive him directly and makes him feel her anger.

Please a lot of drama, I love big drama.

I am sorry for my English.

Your reader.

Ps: I wrote this request to another author but I don't know if he wants to write it so I wanted to write to you again because I always love your writing 🫶

Cregan Stark x fem! reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.6K

Summary: The five times you told Cregan Stark you hated him, and the one time you actually meant it.

A/N: Hey heyyyy, lol I'm finally back. I'm soo soo sorry this took forever to put out, I've been suffering from massive writer's block and I lowkey feel like my house of the dragon hyperfixation was over for a while so I wasn't feeling too motivated to work on related stuff. Anyway, hope you like what I've done with the premise. Lots of drama but I didn't really see there being a happy end where they actually get together lol. As usual, I love your requests and asks so feel free to send in more (I shall try to get them done in a more timely manner T_T)

I hate you I love you

1. At first sight

Being the oldest daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and future heir to the Iron Throne meant that you were seldom allowed to follow your heart's desire. You were simply a pawn in the grand elaborate game of life, fit to be moved around wherever someone saw fit. You didn't have much of a say when your mother named you her heir, you didn't have a say when she decided that you would be sent to be fostered at Winterfell for a few years for some reason you could not fathom, and you certainly would not have a say when you would be married off to whatever lord would serve the greatest political advantage.

You first met the dark-haired boy that was Cregan Stark at the impressionable young age of fourteen, and you were quite intimidated. There was something in his eyes, their steely grey reminding you of an icy winter storm. His uncle, Lord Bennard, currently ruled the north as regent and you could tell that relations were tense between the two of them.

Lord Brennard had led you into the Great Hall, where the fire roared in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. There, standing near the hearth, was a young man of sixteen, with a stony expression, his eyes fixed on the flames. Lord Brennard cleared his throat, and the young man turned to look at them.

"Princess, may I introduce you to my nephew, Cregan Stark," Lord Brennard said with a polite smile.

Cregan regarded you with a cold, distant gaze, his demeanour as frosty as the land outside. He didn't extend a hand or offer a greeting. Instead, he simply nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line, making it clear that he would rather be anywhere else but there.

If you were unhappy with his offputting behaviour, you made no show of it. Your mother had schooled you in the proper etiquette of being a gracious young lady and you extended your hand gracefully.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my lord."

Cregan's response was curt, "Likewise."

He then turned his attention back to the fire, seemingly disinterested in your presence.

Lord Brennard, ever the diplomat, tried to initiate conversation.

"Cregan, the princess has travelled a long way to be here. Perhaps you could show her around Winterfell, and introduce her to some of your companions?"

Cregan sighed audibly and finally tore his gaze away from the flames, "Do I have to, Uncle?"

Lord Brennard's expression tightened slightly, but he remained patient, "It would be a kind gesture, Cregan. She's a guest in our home."

You smiled politely, doing your best to break through the young lord's cold exterior, "I would appreciate it greatly. I've heard so much about Winterfell, and I'd love to get to know the people who live here."

Cregan rolled his eyes but eventually relented with a reluctant nod.

"Fine, I'll show you around, but don't expect me to be your tour guide."

"Thank you. I promise not to be a bother," you grinned now, willing him to at least return some of your warmth.

Cregan's tour of Winterfell was far from what you had imagined. He led you through the castle's corridors and courtyards with long, determined strides, leaving you to struggle to keep up. Your gown, designed for the elegant strolls through the castles of the Red Keep and Dragonstone, was ill-suited for the rugged terrain and brisk pace Cregan set.

"My lord, please, may we slow down?" you called out, your voice slightly breathless. Your soft leather shoes were ill-equipped for the uneven stone floors, and your dress hampered your every step.

Cregan barely spared you a glance, his impatience evident in his voice, "We don't have all day, Princess. You wanted a tour, didn't you?"

You pressed on, determined not to let Cregan's demeanour ruin your first day at Winterfell. You struggled to maintain your composure, but your frustration was building.

"Yes, but I didn't expect it to be a race. Could you at least wait for me?"

Cregan halted abruptly, turning to face you with a roll of his eyes, "Didn't you promise not to be a bother?"

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and frustration. You had hoped for a warmer welcome, but it seemed Cregan was determined to make you feel like an unwanted guest.

"I did, but I didn't realize being polite was such a bother."

Cregan let out an exasperated sigh, and for a moment, you thought he might storm off and leave you behind. Instead, he begrudgingly slowed his pace, allowing you to catch up.

"Fine, let's get on with it."

As you continued the tour, Cregan pointed out various parts of Winterfell with curt explanations, still making no effort to engage in polite conversation. You did your best to show interest and appreciation for the castle's history and architecture, but it was clear that Cregan was not interested in your company.

Later that evening, the dinner at Winterfell was a formal affair, and despite the grandeur of the feast laid out, Cregan continued to be rude and dismissive towards you. He barely acknowledged your presence, and when you attempted to engage in conversation with other members of the Stark household, he would interrupt with snide comments or pointedly change the subject. The tension in the room was palpable, and you could feel the disapproving glances of some of the Stark bannermen who were clearly not pleased with the arrangement. You couldn't blame them though; you were an outsider, and Cregan's hostility toward you only made matters worse.

Eventually, you had had enough. After the meal, when you found yourselves alone in the corridor leading to your chambers, you turned to him, frustration boiling over after hours of having kept it simmering under your skin.

"My lord, may I ask you something?"

Cregan raised an eyebrow, his icy demeanour unchanged, "I don't suppose you'd desist if I refused?"

That was it. Your final breaking point.

"Why are you determined to be so fucking impolite to me?" your voice exploded, echoing in the empty corridor.

Cregan's eyes widened, surprised at your use of profanities no doubt.

Without stopping for a breath, you continued your torrent of complaints, "I understand that you didn't want me here, but have you perhaps considered that I didn't want to leave my home either? I didn't have a say in this, just like you, so if I can muster up the courage to try and hold on to a shred of hopefulness about this whole situation, can't you at least try to be civil to me? You're older than me, after all. Or do you not have the emotional maturity to not be a fucking menace to people you've judged in your head before even getting to know them."

Cregan regarded your outburst with his usual cold indifference, and you felt yourself deflate. Perhaps you had gone too far. Insulting a lord in his home was not proper behaviour befitting a young lady but you would be lying if you said that it didn't bring you a little satisfaction to see the slight cracks in Cregan's composure. There was a glimmer of something else in his eyes as well—a flicker of respect, perhaps. After a long, uncomfortable silence, he finally let out a sigh, seemingly relenting and his eyes softened, almost too imperceptibly.

"Fine," he said grudgingly, his tone suggesting that he was far from genuine. "I apologize if my behaviour has offended you, Princess."

He tacked on the Princess at the end of his sentence, almost as an afterthought and the mockery in it only made the fire in your eyes blaze brighter. You opened your mouth to say something else but Cregan raised his hands placatingly.

"No, no. I am truly sorry for my behaviour. I had my reasons but I will not give you excuses," he chuckled. "Although I must admit, I did not expect you capable...of that."

Your ears flushed crimson and you ducked your head in embarrassment.

"I hate you Cregan Stark," you mumbled under your breath but when you looked up to see his arrogantly cocked eyebrow and knowing smirk, you realized you did not quite mean it with the intensity he deserved.

2. Deep in the godswood

One crisp, sunny morning, the two of you found yourselves in the godswood of Winterfell, surrounded by the ancient trees with their solemn faces carved into the bark. You had decided to engage in a rare moment of playfulness, and the game you had chosen was a simple one—tag.

Cregan, always quick and agile, took the first turn as the pursuer. He sprinted after you, his laughter echoing through the godswood. After a few months at Winterfell, you were no longer the delicate princess you once were, and you ran with surprising grace.

As you weaved between the towering trees, the thrill of the chase engulfed you. You darted around a tree, hoping to outmaneuver Cregan, but he was relentless. With a burst of speed, he lunged forward and tagged you, causing you to stumble.

Your foot caught on a root, and you tumbled to the ground with a cry of surprise. You had landed on the soft moss beneath the tree, your dress stained with mud and leaves. You scowled and glanced up at Cregan, who stood over you, victorious and unapologetic.

"You cheated," you accused your voice a mix of irritation and laughter.

Cregan grinned mischievously, "All's fair in love and war, Princess."

You couldn't help but chuckle despite your fall. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, your gaze meeting Cregan's.

"Well, we must be at war then, my lord, for I see no love here in this godswood."

"Oh is that so?" Cregan's eyes twinkled and he watched you in a way that made your ears flush again.

"I fucking hate you!" you declared, trying to force a scowl on your face.

Cregan's expression softened, and he reached out his hand to help you up. As you looked into his eyes, something shifted within you. You realized that your declaration of hatred was no longer true if it ever had been.

You accepted Cregan's hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet and into him. Your gaze met his, and there was a brief moment where something bright and electric sparked between the two of you.

Cregan smiled and winked, breaking the soft moment.

"Let's watch our language, Princess. And don't try to lie to me, I know you better than that."

"Oh, you know nothing at all, my lord."

3. Once upon a fairytale

The ball at Winterfell was a rare and enchanting event, one that had not been held in years. The Great Hall had been transformed into a dazzling spectacle, with chandeliers glittering from the ceiling and banners of House Stark adorning the walls. The air in Winterfell had been doing you wonders and you had grown even more radiant in the past year. Your presence drew the attention of many young lords from noble houses across the North.

You were quickly approached by eager suitors the moment you stepped into the hall, and they approached you with polished manners and flattering words, hoping for a chance to dance with a royal princess. Cregan, watching from the shadows, felt a pang of jealousy as he saw one lord after another try their luck with you, often stumbling over their words in their haste.

In response to their requests, you smiled politely and declined each invitation with a gracious nod. Your eyes, however, never strayed far from Cregan, who it seemed had taken up a dance with another lady—a striking brunette with a winsome smile.

Finally, when the music shifted to a slower, more intimate melody, Cregan finished his dance and made his way towards you. He extended his hand with a charming smile.

"Princess, may I have this dance?"

Your response was less than warm. You raised an eyebrow and looked at him with mock annoyance.

"Oh, my lord, how kind of you to finally grace me with your presence. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."

Cregan's smirk was mischievous as he took your hand, "Forgotten about you? Never, my lady."

As you began to dance, the tension between the two of you was palpable. Your voice was hushed as you spoke, your irritation clear.

"You've been dancing with other ladies all night. I thought you weren't interested in me."

Cregan leaned in closer, his breath ghosting across your throat, "Jealous, are we?"

Your cheeks flushed.

"No," you replied, trying to remain nonchalant, but your tone betrayed your true feelings. "I just thought you were ignoring me."

"Sounds like jealousy to me."

You rolled your eyes, "I hate you, Cregan Stark."

Cregan's eyes twinkled with amusement as he spun you gracefully across the floor, "You don't."

You opened your mouth to protest, but Cregan brought your hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and your breath immediately caught in your throat, rendering you speechless.

Cregan held your gaze, his eyes filled with a fierce intensity.

"No, you don't," he repeated softly as if daring you to deny it.

4. Slowly, and then all at once

Throughout the next grand feast, Cregan couldn't resist cracking teasing jokes at your expense, each one playful but not cruel, designed only to elicit merriment. His quips were met with laughter and amusement from the other lords and ladies, you felt annoyed being his topic of discussion that evening.

After the dinner finally concluded, you could take no more. You caught Cregan by the arm as he was about to leave the hall and dragged him away to an isolated hallway. Your eyes flashed with anger as you turned to face him and although the expression on your face was a serious one, he couldn't help but be mesmerized by the fieriness of it. It was the same expression you had worn the first time you confronted him about his behaviour and unbeknownst to you, that was when he had first started to feel that aching pull toward you.

"What was that all about, Cregan?" you demanded, your voice sharp.

Cregan's response was unexpected. He didn't offer an apology or a defence of his actions. Instead, he took a step closer to you, his expression intense. Before you could react or voice your pent-up frustration, he kissed you.

It was a passionate, intense kiss that left you momentarily breathless. Your protests were silenced as your lips met his, and your anger dissolved into a mixture of surprise and desire. Cregan's lips were firm against yours, his hands gentle but insistent on your waist.

When he finally pulled away, you were left looking quite dazed and disoriented. Your cheeks flushed, and your heart raced in your chest. Cregan smirked at you, his eyes filled with a blend of amusement and affection.

"Princess," he said softly, "Don't you dare say that you hate me again. It's abundantly clear that you don't."

You tried to form a coherent response, but your thoughts were still scattered from the unexpected kiss. You found yourself at a loss for words, your feelings for the young lord more complex than ever before.

Cregan's thumb brushed gently against your cheek, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead tenderly.

"Let's not waste any more time pretending, my lady," he whispered. "We both know how we truly feel."

5. I wish I could hate you

The arrival of Lady Alysanne Blackwood and her father brought a flurry of activity to Winterfell. Lady Alysanne was a beautiful and vivacious woman, and her presence seemed to light up every room she entered. As the daughter of an important house, she was greeted with warmth and enthusiasm by Lord Brennard Stark and the other members of House Stark.

You couldn't help but notice the stark contrast in Cregan's behaviour towards Lady Alysanne compared to his demeanour with you when you first arrived. He greeted the Blackwoods with a genuine smile, engaged in polite conversation, and even offered to show Lady Alysanne around Winterfell himself. It was a stark departure from the cold and aloof Cregan you had known at first.

You tried to push aside the feelings of hurt and jealousy that welled up within you. It had been some time since Cregan had treated you with such indifference, and you knew you should let bygones be bygones. After all, you reasoned, Cregan had every right to make new acquaintances and friends. You were still the one he shared kisses with and spoke whispered promises to.

However, as the days passed, you couldn't shake the feeling of being left behind. Cregan seemed to spend more and more time in the company of Lady Alysanne, showing her the beauty of Winterfell, introducing her to the people of the North, and sharing tales of their homeland.

One evening, as you watched Cregan and Lady Alysanne from across the courtyard, a sense of loneliness and abandonment washed over you. Then came the announcement that turned your blood cold. There was talk around the castle of preparations for a grand wedding. At first, this confused you. Cregan was the only member of the Starks of marriageable age, but he had never discussed something like this with you. And then you realized why, when passing the kitchens late one night, you overheard the scullery maids talking about how lovely a bride Lady Alysanne would make.

One day, as you walked alone in the quiet gardens of Winterfell, your steps slow and contemplative, Lady Alysanne approached you. You had been lost in your thoughts, unaware of Alysanne's presence until she spoke.

"I must admit, I wanted to see for myself the woman rumoured to be close to my future husband," she said with a smirk.

Your heart sank at the cruel tone in Alysanne's voice, and your voice trembled as you replied, "Your future husband?"

Alysanne nodded, her expression filled with mockery.

"Yes, Princess. Cregan and I have been promised to each other since birth. It's a marriage that our families have long arranged, for the good of both our houses."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you turned away to hide your emotions. You felt a crushing weight on your chest, the realization that the man you had grown to care for deeply was bound by duty to another.

Your voice was barely a whisper as you asked, "How long have you known about this?"

Alysanne's tone was sharp and cutting as she replied, "I've known for a while, but I wanted to meet you before the wedding. I wanted to see the foolish girl who thought she could steal Cregan away from his duty."

Your heart ached with a mixture of sadness and resignation. You had to accept the reality of the situation, no matter how much it hurt.

Alysanne reached out with a mocking smile, but her touch was far from comforting as she placed her hand on your shoulder.

"I know this must be difficult for you, Princess, as you are probably used to having whatever your heart desires. But you should have known better. Cregan was never yours to have."

Later that very same day, when the sun had begun to set over Winterfell, casting long shadows across the castle grounds, you were sitting alone on a stone bench, your thoughts consumed by the hurtful encounter with Lady Alysanne. You had been lost in your own misery when Cregan approached, his expression filled with concern.

"Princess, I heard about what happened with Lady Alysanne," Cregan began, his voice gentle. "I wanted to make sure you're all right."

Your heart ached at the sound of his voice, but you tried to ignore him, focusing on the setting sun instead. You couldn't bear to look at him, not now, not after everything that had transpired.

Cregan, undeterred by your silence, took a step closer, "Please, let me explain."

Your emotions, raw and uncontainable, finally burst forth. You turned to face him, eyes filled with tears, and voice trembling with pain.

"Explain? You don't deserve to give me an explanation now, Cregan. Not after all that has happened between us."

Cregan's expression was one of genuine regret as he reached out to touch your arm, "Listen, please, just hear me out."

You couldn't bear to listen any longer. The words that had been building up inside you for so long spilled out in a rush.

"You should have told me, Cregan. You should have told me that you were promised to another, that you could never belong to me. You should have told me before you kissed me under the stars, before you spun me around in gilded ballrooms. Before you made me hope for something that wasn't real."

Tears streamed down your face, and your voice broke as you continued.

"I hate you, Cregan."

For a moment, there was silence between the two of you, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. Cregan's face showed a mix of pain and sadness, but he said nothing in response. You yearned for him to tell you that you were wrong. To tell you that you didn't hate him and that he certainly did not hate you and that he would be yours after all.

He opened his mouth but no words came out.

I love you.

The words were just on the tip of his tongue but he could not force them out. He could not be selfish enough to give you hope when he was bound by duty.

There never lived a Stark who broke an oath.

That was what Cregan's father had always told him, and he wasn't about to be the first stark to do so. And so Cregan chose to remain silent and eventually, he walked away, leaving you surrounded by the shards of your broken heart. Your hands came up to muffle the broken sobs that escaped your lips and the tears that streaked down your face were a testimony to your lie. You could claim to hate him all you want but one did not mourn this much for someone they hated.

You left the very next morning, after a hasty goodbye to the few people you had gotten to know during your stay at Winterfell and with a heavy heart, you directed your dragon toward your true home. You didn't think you could bear to watch him marry Lady Alysanne and it was better for you to leave now with at least some of your dignity intact.

~ I hate you and I mean it.

Several years had passed since the painful encounter with Cregan in the gardens of Winterfell. In the intervening years, much had changed. Your mother had taken the throne after the passing of your grandfather, King Viserys and you had been named her official heir. When news of a great war in the North reached the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Rhaenyra Targaryen, she saw an opportunity to strengthen her alliances and sent her two eldest children, you and Jace, to aid House Stark in the battle, accompanied by their dragons.

With the might of dragons at your side, the two of you made quick work of the war, helping to secure a decisive victory for the Starks. The sight of dragons soaring through the northern skies struck fear into the hearts of their enemies, and soon, the war was won.

In celebration of their triumph, House Stark held a grand feast in honour of the Targaryen siblings. The Great Hall of Winterfell was adorned with banners, and tables groaned under the weight of a sumptuous feast. Nobles from across the North had gathered to pay their respects to the Dragonriders.

You couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of emotions as you walked the familiar halls of Winterfell once more. The memories of your time here, both the joyful moments and the painful ones, flooded back to you. You had changed so much since then, and the scars of the past had faded but not entirely disappeared.

As you and Jace were introduced to the Northern lords and ladies, the atmosphere was one of jubilation and gratitude. The Starks were effusive in their praise, grateful for the Targaryens' aid in securing their victory.

You couldn't help but notice that Cregan was among those present, his gaze fixed on you. There was a tension in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the past and the wounds that still lingered. You had returned to Winterfell as a powerful figure, a dragon rider and an heir to the throne, but the history between you and Cregan remained.

The feast was a boisterous affair, with music and revelry filling the Great Hall. You watched as Cregan hovered about his wife almost constantly, his hand gentle on her protruding abdomen as he guided her about the room.

As the feast at Winterfell continued, your shock deepened when you noticed a young boy running towards Cregan with gleeful abandon. The boy called out, "Father!" with pure excitement, and Cregan, with a warm smile, hoisted the child onto his shoulders. They paraded around the room, making their way through the nobles who cheered and greeted them.

You watched in disbelief as Cregan introduced the boy to the gathered lords and ladies, his paternal pride evident in every gesture. The sight of Cregan with the child sent a pang of bitterness and resentment through you. You knew that Cregan's marriage to Lady Alysanne had likely produced offspring, but seeing it firsthand was a painful reminder of what could never be between the two of you.

Finally, the little boy and Cregan reached you and Jace. The child's dark, pale freckled skin and dark curls were identical to Alysanne's, but it was his eyes that caught your attention. They were the very same stormy grey eyes that you had noticed on Cregan the first time you had met him.

Cregan introduced the boy with a proud smile.

"This is my son, Rickon."

Cregan caught your eye and you caught a brief flash of regret pass through him before he schooled his expression into a pleasant grin. He turned back to his son, his face softening entirely as he gazed at him with adoration so tender that it speared right through your heart.

I hate you, Cregen Stark. I hate you for finding happiness without me. I hate you for not fighting for me. I hate you for your stupid oaths and your stupid loyalties. I hate you.

You were wise enough to keep your angry thoughts to yourself, but for the first time in your life, you found that you actually meant them. perhaps that made you a cruel and callous monster but you did not care. You hated Cregan Stark more than anything else and wondered, not for the first time, if you should have advised your mother against sending you to help out in the war. Still, you were your mother's daughter and if there was one person you loved with your entire heart, it was her. If helping the Starks win their war secured their support for your mother, then you would bury your heavy heart and do it for her.

As the evening wore on, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on the festivities. The bitter taste of jealousy and regret lingered in your mouth, a constant reminder of the life that could have been but was now forever out of reach. Whatever Cregan thought of Alysanne, it was clear that he loved their children and very soon there would be even more to cherish if Alysanne's laboured breaths and swollen belly said anything. You couldn't escape the feeling that you were a stranger in a place that had once held such significance in your life. The years had changed you, and Winterfell had changed as well. There was no longer any room for you and you couldn't wait to return home.

A/N: reblog and comment please, it really motivates me and I love reading yalls thoughts <3

#cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #jacaerys targaryen #hotd #hbo house of the dragon #cregan stark x reader #house of the dragon #house targaryen #house of the dragon headcanon #house of the dragon aemond #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd headcanon #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #icarus ignite writes

347 notes · View notes

thesirencove · 2 months ago

Text

ᨒ ོ ☼ YOU'VE BECOME MY CEILING -- SAM WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

another angst fic !! i love writing angst so this is nothing new from me ofc :) once again , this is a fic i posted on a previous blog , which i since removed from said blog as i decided to focus on another topic . so i'm here to once again share my works :) i've also since edited this fic a bit , as i wrote it a bit ago !! let me know your thoughts on this one and enjoy <3

my requests are open and let me know if anyone would like a part two to this !

tissues are once again needed and there is no use of y/n in this fic

sam winchester x fem!reader (romantic)

summary: when sam pulls away, and reader just can't keep going. loosely based on the song "the gold" , specifically phoebe bridgers version

warnings: break ups (sorta ?) , minor descriptions + mentions of suffocation (if you blink you'll probably miss it) , abandonment , loss of love (to some degree) , unrequited love but not really (???) , sad sam (again </3)

word count: 1.8k

love was difficult. it was consuming. beautiful. costly. the best feeling in the world, and the worst one. it was all of these things at the same time.

sometimes it was the most freeing thing in the world. other times it was suffocating. it could be a good suffocating, at times. the love so overwhelming that she burst with joy at the feeling. a love she held so closely that she couldn’t find ways to express it any further even as she drowned in the feeling.

other times it made her want to cry everything out. it made her want to collapse on the floor, heart and lungs heavy. it made her dread the silence during fights, or the sleepless nights waiting for a phone call back. it made her dread the days spent waiting for him to come home. the tears welling up in her eyes when she could only imagine the worst as minutes became hours, which would become days and eventually weeks. it was dreadful.

but the good parts made up for it. the nights spent curled up in each others’ arms. hearing each others’ shallow breaths as they slept. the warmth of being near one another. the way the light shone in a different way, because things were good. things were calm. he was home and so was she. the smiles rarely ever left either of their faces. being in close proximity was all they needed. they’d talk, but the silence was just as peaceful. it wasn’t deafening or painful. it didn’t make her heart wrench. both of them were safe and in love and happy.

that’s not the way it was now. right now the silence was heavy. so was her heart. her lungs felt like they were constricting. like there wasn’t enough air left for her to breathe. it felt like their love was dying out. like the flame they’d so carefully spent time fostering was dying out, providing barely any light. she didn’t want it to. she was grabbing at it, pulling it back towards her, like a child trying to save their most prized possesion that’s about to be thrown out. she tried to save it. so, so hard. she would spend nights awake, thinking how to fix things. how to make it better, for both of them. how to make sure they were both safe and in love and happy again.

but he wasn’t making that effort. he had shut down. she didn’t know what it was. he came home one day after weeks of no contact on a long hunt, and since then it’s been like this. she had to tiptoe around him on eggshells. the feeling of acid burning her throat never left. she tried to get him to talk. to say something. to open up to her, so she could help him. but he had snapped. she wouldn’t give up, though. she tried, again and again. it always ended the same, with sam angry and her silent tears soaking the pillow. after months of trying she decided it wasn’t worth pushing any further.

he would open up in time, right? he just needed to find the initiative to come to her himself, to not be forced into opening up, right? things would get fixed in time and it would be all okay again. but it didn’t happen. the time didn’t come. and yet again, hours would become days, which would be come weeks and slowly those weeks would become months. except this time he wasn’t away. he was home. he was with her. and yet the distance between them was further than ever before.

i love you, she thought.

i love you with all my heart and soul. i love you unconditionally. i love you even through the heaviness in my heart and the tears that stain my cheeks every day.

but it’s just not enough, she realized. her one-sided love wasn’t enough. she couldn’t be the only person with love in this relationship. it was slowly breaking her, tearing her apart. she was a shell of herself now, just as sam has been these past few months.

so she packed a bag. just one. only what she needed. not everything. she left the rest. she would be coming back. she knew she would. a love like this doesn’t just end. there’s bumps in the road. there always are. but this bump needed a little extra time and care. and that had to come in the form of being away. she needed to be able to breathe. perhaps he, too, needed space.

distance makes the heart grow fonder, no?

and with that one bag in hand, she left the room she shared with him. with her sam. the love of her life. the man who now sat at the kitchen table, absolutely unrecognizable. she watched him from afar. sitting there, motionless. a bottle of beer stood in front of him.

she placed her bag down where she was, positioning it so he wouldn’t see. and she entered the kitchen.

one last time, she thought to herself. she wouldn’t be saying goodbye. that’s not what this was. she was going to be back. but she couldn’t leave without seeing him one more time. giving him one last kiss before she was gone.

“sam,” she croaked out. her voice was barely louder than a whisper. he didn’t respond.

“sam,” she said once again, louder this time. it caught his attention. he looked up at her.

“i love you,” she said to him. her eyes were glossy. she was breathing as evenly as she could, her lungs constricting as her heart beat so fast that she practically felt it in her throat. she didn’t want him to see her cry, even though he had so many times in the past.

“mhm,” was his only response. he looked away from her soon after, his motions so slow they were almost robotic. it was as though he were on autopilot, picking up his beer and taking a swig of it. she took that as her sign. her final push. to do this. to take some time away from him, let him figure things out. he wasn’t going to do that with her around. these past few months have proven that. even through every time she tried to help him, to figure out why he’d shut down, he would just push her further away. she bent down and placed a kiss to his forehead.

i’m sorry, she thought to herself.

and so she took one last look at him. she turned towards the door. and she walked out. moving her legs was a chore. it was difficult and every bone in her body screamed at her to turn back around. to get down on the floor, to her knees, and beg him to talk to her, to tell her what was wrong. but it wouldn’t work. she knew that, because she already tried it.

so against every instinct in her body, against every thought in her head but one, she grabbed the bag she had hidden behind the wall outside the kitchen, and left.

sam heard the door close. he didn’t think much of it. a day later, when the house was quieter than he was used to, he glazed over the thought that she wasn’t back yet. but that one day had yet again become days, which had eventually become a week. something changed in him. he called her. he rung her phone non-stop. he left message after message. he had sat in that same spot in the kitchen, phone in hand, waiting for her to pick the phone back up. but she hadn’t.

he had finally woken up from his daze. he finally realized that he had lost her. it took her leaving for him to realize that things weren’t okay. that he wasn’t okay. none of it was.

he wished he had told her, that he opened up to her about what happened on that hunt. about how he tried to save a child, and couldn’t. how he saw himself in this young boy, so frightened and yet trying to show strength. a child that he then saw buried by his family a week later. the monsters in town were gone thanks to him, but a child had died. and he couldn’t forgive himself for that, he couldn’t bring himself to function properly. this child, so closely mirroring his younger self was gone because of him. and so he shut down.

she tried to help him, to get him to open up, but goddamnit he just wouldn’t listen. and now he’d lost her, too. she was gone, not answering the phone. he wasn’t sure if she’d ever come back, though he wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t.

and one lonely night in november, sam was laying in her room. he’d been curled up in a ball on her bed, her scent having nearly faded completely, when he saw the leather poking out from inside her closet. and he got up. pulled out what it was that caught his eye.

her journal. the one thing she refused to go anywhere without, she had left behind. so he opened it. and he read, and read, and read. he couldn’t stop reading. and he hated himself more and more with each entry. he knew he shouldn’t have read it, but he couldn’t help himself. he wasn’t sure if she’d ever come back, and this was the closest thing to her that he now had.

he watched their love crumple in front of his eyes, the memories burnt into the pages. but their love wasn’t enough for it to stay.

it’s my fault, he’d repeat in his head. over and over and over again. non-stop, like a mantra. and when he got to the last page, he had felt his heart shatter. he had become physically ill at what he read.

it’s like he’s become my ceiling, the page read.

a blank wall i stare at, unmoving and not in love with me, no matter how much i may love him, it finished.

and just like that, sam winchester had broken himself more than he had already been broken. but he would wait. he’d wait for her to return. he’d look for her. he’d hope that she’d come back. and in the meantime he’d work on himself. fix himself. he’d pull himself out of the rut he was in, so that when she came back, he could give her all the love in the world again. so she could look at him with all the light in the world once more.

he would become her the sun again and brighten her world. he realized that he needs to open up to her, that he can rely on her. he doesn’t have to be scared of her love anymore. she wouldn’t run away if he told her what happened. she’d only love him unconditionally. and oh, how sam wished she were still here.

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x fem!reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fanfic #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #angst #so much angst #romantic relationships #₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚ aqua's fanfics

58 notes · View notes

musicforastylesrestaurant · 1 year ago

Text

The Masquerade.

fictober masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - this was actually one of my favourite concepts to write, i'm not sure why but i think it was because of all the angst that it's filled with...

word count - 10.5k (sheesh…)

in which, your friend drags you along to a high school reunion halloween party, which you one hundred percent do not feel in the mood to attend, but his nagging doesn't hold off, so being the good friend you are, you give into his nagging. a shocking revelation occurs when your ex walks through the door who you as well as everyone else didn’t expect to turn up leading to a confrontation that's nothing but emotional.

trope: exboyfriend!harry

Teaching ten-year-old girls football has been your lifelong dream, a passion that ignited when you were just a child yourself. You remember the sheer joy and exhilaration the sport brought you, until that fateful day when you got tackled and broke your leg at the age of nineteen. That incident left you with an indelible fear of playing again, but it couldn't extinguish your love for the game. So, you decided to channel your passion into a different path - you pursued a degree in football coaching.

Now, as you stand on the field, overseeing a group of eager young girls, you can't help but smile. You see a reflection of your younger self in their bright eyes, full of curiosity and excitement. The thrill of imparting your knowledge and nurturing their love for the sport is immeasurable.

You've learned from your own experience that winning isn't everything. It's about fostering a love for the game and helping these girls develop both as players and as individuals. When they win, your heart swells with pride, knowing you've played a part in their success. But when they face defeat, you're not too harsh on them. Instead, you use those moments as opportunities for growth.

Your training sessions are carefully designed to balance skill-building with fun. You know that at this age, it's essential to keep them engaged and enthusiastic. So, you blend drills and exercises with playful activities that make learning enjoyable. You've seen firsthand how this approach helps the girls not only improve their football skills but also develop teamwork, discipline, and confidence.

As you watch them practice and play, you often reminisce about your own playing days, feeling a pang of nostalgia mixed with pride. Despite your personal setback, you've found a way to stay connected to the sport you love and make a meaningful impact on these young athletes' lives. It's not just about winning or losing; it's about nurturing their passion, teaching them resilience, and giving them the tools to succeed both on and off the field.

You're living your dream, not as a player but as a coach, and the smiles on those girls' faces when they score a goal or make a brilliant pass make every moment, every training session, and every challenge worth it.

As the final whistle blows, you gather the girls into a huddle at the centre of the field, the bright sunlight casting a warm glow around your circle. You can see a mixture of emotions on their faces, some tired but determined, others a bit disappointed, but all eager to hear your thoughts.

You begin with a smile, looking at each of them with pride.

"Alright, team, gather around!" you say, your voice filled with encouragement. "I want you to know how proud I am of each and every one of you out there today. You showed great spirit and determination, and that's what counts."

One of the girls, Sarah, raises her hand eagerly. "Coach, I scored my first goal today! I was so excited!"

You beam at her. "That's fantastic, Sarah! Your goal was brilliant. You showed excellent positioning and a great sense of timing. Keep it up!"

Mia chimes in, "Coach, I made some good passes, didn't I?"

You nod appreciatively. "Absolutely, Mia. Your passes were spot on. You demonstrated great vision on the field, and that's a crucial skill."

As you continue, you make sure to acknowledge the efforts of each player, whether it was a solid defensive play, a remarkable save by the goalkeeper, or simply the teamwork they displayed throughout the game. You want them all to feel valued and recognized for their contributions.

"Team," you say, "remember, winning is great, but it's not the only measure of success. We learn and grow from every game, whether we win or lose. Today, we saw incredible teamwork, and that's something we can always build on."

Sophie, one of the quieter girls, raises her hand tentatively. "Coach, what can we improve on?"

You smile at her eagerness to learn. "Sophie, that's an excellent question. We can work on our passing accuracy and defensive positioning. But remember, it's all part of the journey. We're here to improve together."

The huddle breaks with a round of applause for their efforts, and the girls leave the field with their heads held high.

You finish up with the girls' soccer practice, feeling a sense of fulfilment from a productive day on the field. However, you're also aware of the impending challenge of getting home, thanks to your recent leg injury. You remember that your best friend, Jamie, had promised you a ride, and that brings a sigh of relief.

You spot Jamie leaning against his car, a friendly grin on his face as he watches you approaching. His presence is like a beacon of support. As you get closer, you can't contain your excitement and rush over to him, throwing your arms around him in a bone-crushing hug.

"Jamie!" you exclaim, your voice filled with genuine joy. "It's so good to see you! How was your holiday?"

Jamie returns the hug with enthusiasm, his voice laced with excitement. "Oh, it was amazing! You wouldn't believe the places I got to explore and the food I got to try. But honestly, I've missed you so much!"

You step back from the hug, both of you wearing wide smiles. "I missed you too, buddy. And thanks a million for coming to pick me up. You're a lifesaver."

Jamie chuckles, giving you a playful nudge. "No problem at all, mate. That's what best friends are for, right? Let's get you home comfortably."

As you both hop into the car, the conversation flows effortlessly. You catch up on the latest news, sharing stories and laughter like you always do. The car ride feels like a warm reunion, and you can't help but be grateful for having such a dependable and caring friend like Jamie.

As the car ride continues, Jamie glances over at you with curiosity. "So, what are your plans for tonight?"

You lean back in the comfortable car seat, enjoying the familiarity of the conversation.

"Well," you start, "first things first, I need to head home and have a quick shower. I've been running around with the girls all afternoon, and I must be a bit of a mess."

Jamie chuckles, understanding the need for a post-practice refresh. "Sounds like a plan. And then?"

You smile, thinking about your precious daughter. "After the shower, it's time to drop Lilah off at her dad's place. She's with my sister right now."

Jamie nods, his eyes reflecting empathy. "How's she doing these days?"

You sigh, a mix of emotions flooding over you. "She's growing up so fast, Jamie. Four years old already, and she's as curious and energetic as ever. It's a bit tough juggling everything, but it's all worth it for her."

Delilah Rae (Y/L/N)-Cooper.

When you were twenty five, to celebrate the new year you had gone out with Jamie, his boyfriend as well as your sister, the four of you had gone up London to see the fireworks at the Thames.

That was where you met Levi Cooper.

The two of you spent the night together after both of you had a bit too much to drink at the club, you kept catching each other's eyes from across the rooms, his blue coloured eyes locking onto yours and the rest was history.

The two of you did keep in touch after your impromptu meeting, well you suppose you had to seeing as you were having his baby. The one night you spent together had given the two of you an eighteen year commitment.

He was shocked at first that you were pregnant, but he was nothing but supportive, every prenatal class he was by your side, every scan he was sat at the side of the bed and when your waters broke and you gave birth to a beautiful baby girl he sobbed.

The two of you did try to date, but it just seemed that the two of you were just better at being friends.

He was engaged now to a lovely women named Eloise.

Jamie gives you a supportive pat on the shoulder. "You're an amazing parent, you know that, right?"

You blush a little at the compliment. "Thanks, J. I'm just trying to do my best for her."

As the car ride with Jamie continues, he leans over with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Hey, guess what? The high school reunion is tonight!"

You immediately shake your head with a firm resolve. "No way, Jamie. I'm not going to that."

Jamie raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Oh, come on! It could be a blast. We haven't seen some of those folks in ages!"

You let out a sigh, knowing that Jamie won't easily accept your refusal. "Jamie, there's really no reason for me to go. I've moved on from all that high school drama."

He grins, persistent in his efforts. "But it's a chance to catch up, see where everyone ended up, share stories..."

You shoot him a knowing look. "Jamie, we've got Facebook for that. Besides, I'm perfectly content with my life now."

Jamie continues to plead, "Think of the nostalgia, the old memories..."

You chuckle, shaking your head again. "Nostalgia isn't enough to make me want to relive those awkward teenage years, Jamie."

He's not giving up easily, leaning closer and trying a different approach. "What if I promise to be your wingman all night?"

You raise an eyebrow in mock disbelief. "And what, introduce me to every person there as 'the one who didn't want to come'?"

You arrive home with Jamie, your key poised to open the door. You're eager to see your precious daughter, Delilah, who's been anxiously waiting for your return after her day with your sister. The door swings open, and before you can even step inside, you hear the pattering of little feet.

"Mommy!" Delilah exclaims, her face lighting up with pure joy as she runs straight into your open arms.

You scoop her up, her tiny arms wrapping tightly around your neck, and you pepper her face with a thousand kisses. "Oh, my sweet Lilah-bug, I missed you so much!"

Delilah giggles, her laughter filling the room. "I missed you too, Mommy!"

Jamie watches the heartwarming reunion with a smile, his eyes filled with warmth and happiness.

"Hey, Delilah," he says, crouching down to her level. "I missed you too."

Delilah looks at Jamie with curiosity, her innocent eyes studying him for a moment before breaking into a shy smile. "Hi, JJ!”

As you enjoy the family reunion with Delilah and Jamie, your sister Abigail walks into the room with a warm smile. "Hey, how was your day?"

You return her smile. "It was good, Abi. The footy practice went well, and now I'm just happy to be home."

Abigail looks at Jamie with a playful grin. "And what about you, Jamie? How have you been?"

Jamie chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "Well, it was a lot of travelling, but it's all worth it to spend time with these two."

You nods in agreement, then turns you attention to Delilah. "So, sweetheart, what did you and Auntie Abigail do today?"

Delilah's eyes light up with excitement. "We played in the park, and Auntie Abigail pushed me on the swings really high! It was so much fun!"

Abigail laughs, ruffling Delilah's hair affectionately. "That's right, we had a blast at the park. And afterward, we baked some delicious cookies, didn't we?"

Delilah nods vigorously. "Yep! I helped mix the dough, and we even had chocolate chips in them!"

You all gather in the cosy living room, Delilah on your lap, her blonde curly hair tickling your fingers as you brush through it. Abigail breaks the comfortable silence with a practical question, "So, what time does Lilah need to be at Levi's?"

You glance at your watch and reply, "Half past six should be good."

Jamie, ever the talkative one, chimes in enthusiastically, "Perfect! That works because the reunion starts at seven!"

Abigail's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. " reunion? What are you talking about?"

You roll your eyes playfully at Jamie, thinking he's just teasing. "He's talking rubbish, as usual."

But Jamie jumps in again, this time with a more serious tone. "No, seriously, there's a school reunion tonight."

Abigail looks genuinely surprised. "A school reunion? Why wasn't I informed?"

You sigh, not thrilled with the idea. "Honestly, I'd rather just sit at home and relax."

Abigail, ever the one to push you out of your comfort zone, raises an eyebrow. "Come on, it might be fun! You need a good night out."

You let out a reluctant sigh, knowing your sister's right. "Alright, fine, we'll think about it."

Abigail's eyes twinkle mischievously. "Who knows, you might even rekindle something with a certain someone."

You give her a knowing look, realising exactly who she's referring to. "Abigail, we broke up in high school. It's been ages."

Jamie joins in with a laugh. "You never know, sparks might fly."

In the midst of the bustling high school hallway, you stand at your locker, neatly organising your books for the next class. The sound of lockers slamming and laughter fills the air, creating a lively atmosphere.

Suddenly, you feel two warm arms wrap around your waist from behind, and the familiar scent of Harry Styles' aftershave instantly captures your senses.

With a playful giggle, you turn your head to the side, your eyes meeting his.

"Well, hello there, Mr. Styles," you tease, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

Harry's emerald green eyes twinkle mischievously as he leans in closer. "Couldn't resist sneaking up on you, m’darlin’. Y’look t’cute sorting y’books."

You blush at the compliment, playfully batting your eyelashes. "Flattery will get you everywhere, you know."

Harry's lips brush against your earlobe as he whispers, "Everywhere, y’say? might have t’take advantage ‘f’that."

You can't help but laugh, your heart swelling with affection for the charming boy who has stolen your heart. "Harry Styles, you're incorrigible."

He grins, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on your cheek. "Only when it comes to you, babe."

/ /

Harry stood in his cosy kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air as he watched the snow gently fall outside the window. It had been a while since he'd seen Ellis, his best mate from high school, and he was glad for the company on this chilly day.

They had grabbed coffee together in the morning, before deciding to have a little walk around the twin they both grew up in.

Ellis sipped her own coffee and leaned against the kitchen counter, looking thoughtful. "you remember the school reunion is tonight, right? What time is it starting?"

Harry stirred his coffee, a pensive expression on his face. "Ye’, m’remember. S’supposed t’be at seven, but m’not sure if m’gonna go."

Ellis raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Not going? Why not?"

Harry sighed, his gaze distant as he remembered the old days. "I don't know, El. S’been ages since I've seen those people. M’not sure I'll fit in anymore."

Ellis chuckled, taking another sip of her coffee. "Mate, you're Harry Styles. You could fit in anywhere."

Harry gave a small smile but still seemed uncertain. "S’not about fitting in, really. S’just... v’moved on from that time in m’life, y’know?"

Ellis nodded in understanding. "I get it, Haz. But it could be fun to catch up, see how everyone's doing."

Harry considered his friend's words. "Yeah, maybe. We'll see."

As the snow continued to fall outside, Harry contemplated the idea of attending the high school reunion. It was a chance to reconnect with old friends and revisit memories, but he couldn't help but wonder if he'd truly find his place in a world that had changed so much since those school days.

You sit in your cozy bedroom, the soft glow of natural light filtering in through the curtains, as you prepare to apply your makeup. Your vanity mirror reflects your anticipation, and you're ready to transform your look for the day.

With a steady hand, you pick up your favorite foundation and begin to blend it evenly across your skin, creating a flawless canvas. As you work, you can't help but appreciate the therapeutic rhythm of the makeup application process.

Next, your eyes catch the eyeshadow palette you've chosen for today's look. With precision, you carefully sweep the hues across your eyelids, creating a captivating blend of colors that complements your style.

You reach for your mascara, preparing to enhance your lashes, making your eyes pop and adding a touch of allure to your gaze. Each stroke brings you one step closer to the final result you envision.

A hint of blush adds a healthy flush to your cheeks, while a sweep of your favorite lipstick completes your look. You can't help but smile as you admire the transformation you've achieved, feeling confident and ready to take on the day.

Your boyfriend at the time, is lounging on your bed, wearing nothing but his boxers. It's one of those mornings after he stayed over, and you're getting ready for school, sitting at your vanity and applying makeup.

As you focus on your makeup routine, you can't help but hear Harry huffing behind you. You ignore it at first, thinking it's just one of his playful quirks. But when he huffs again, you can't help but turn and ask, "What's your issue, Harry?"

He shifts on the bed, looking earnestly at you. "Y’don't need makeup, y’know. Y’already beautiful."

You smile, appreciating his sentiment. "Thanks, baby. But makeup just makes me feel better about myself."

He's not willing to let it go, and he comes up behind you, draping his arms over your shoulders and leaning down so both of you are in view of the vanity mirror. "Seriously, y’don't need it. Y’stunning without it."

You meet his gaze in the mirror, his green eyes filled with genuine affection.

He takes a makeup wipe from your vanity, turning your chair around so that you're facing him. With a slow, deliberate motion, he starts wiping away the makeup from your face. His touch is gentle, and his eyes never leave yours.

As the last traces of makeup disappear, he smiles softly. "See, there y’are, just as beautiful as I knew y’be."

You can't help but laugh, appreciating his effort to make you feel special.

He presses a loving kiss to your forehead, his arms still wrapped around you. "And that's why I love you."

Just as you're finishing up, your daughter, with her unruly curls and a cheeky smile that reminds you so much of her father, rushes into the room. She stands at your side, her eyes wide with curiosity.

You scoop her up and place her on your lap, where she traces the outline of your lipstick with her tiny finger before gently tracing the eyeliner around your eyes.

With a tilt of her head, Delilah grins mischievously. "Mummy, you don't need makeup."

Her words strike a chord deep within you, reminding you of a time long ago when a certain someone had said the same thing. A sense of déjà vu washes over you, and you can't help but smile at the memory.

You ask her, "Why do you say that, sweetheart?"

Delilah looks up at you with those big, innocent eyes. "Because you're beautiful."

As Delilah kisses your nose, you can't help but smile at her sweet gesture.

Levi, her father, may not be present at this moment, but you're grateful for the strong co-parenting relationship you have, which allows Delilah to feel loved and secure.

However, as Delilah's innocent words about your beauty echo in your mind, you can't shake the feeling of déjà vu, reminiscent of your first love, Harry Styles. Your heart aches at the memory of the deep connection you once shared with him, even though you're no longer together.

As you make your way down the stairs, Jamie is waiting for you, dressed in a sharp suit and a warm smile.

Jamie had offered to drive you to Levi's, knowing that your heels might not be the best for walking. He greets you with a friendly grin and says, "Looking stunning, as always."

The dress that Jamie had picked out of your closet was an emerald green one that hugged your body in all the right places. You didn’t exactly know what the colour theme for the Masquerade party was, but you trusted your best friend with his decisions.

You chuckle and adjust Delilah in your arms. "Thanks, J. And thanks for the lift. It's much appreciated."

Delilah, clutching her beloved bunny, looks up at Jamie with a bright smile. "Hi, JJ!"

Jamie leans in and ruffles her hair playfully. "Hey DD. Are you ready to have some fun with your dad?"

Delilah nods eagerly, her excitement contagious. You feel a pang of nostalgia thinking about the family dynamics that have evolved over the years.

The three of you leave the front door behind, the night sky gently illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights. You carefully place Delilah in the car seat that Jamie has in his car, a familiar seat from their countless playdates together. Her eyes are droopy, the weight of a busy day finally catching up to her. You press a loving kiss to her forehead before making your way to the passenger front seat.

Jamie takes the wheel, and the car pulls out of the driveway, embarking on the journey to Levi's place. The cityscape passes by in a blur of lights, creating a serene backdrop to the silent drive. The gentle hum of the engine and the occasional soft lullaby playing on the radio are the only sounds that fill the car.

Delilah's eyelids grow heavier with each passing mile, her breathing steady as she drifts into a peaceful slumber. You glance over at her, a feeling of warmth and contentment washing over you as you watch your daughter sleep, knowing that you're on your way to reunite her with her father. The car moves steadily through the quiet night, a soothing rhythm that lulls you into your own thoughts

As Jamie pulls the car to a stop outside Levi's house, you turn to him and explain, "I'll just five minutes. I need to get her sorted."

Jamie nods in understanding, giving you an assuring smile. "Take your time. I'll wait right here."

You unbuckle your sleeping daughter from her car seat, noticing how her head has lulled to the side, and her tiny thumb has found its way to her mouth. Gently, you lift her into your arms, making sure not to jostle her. She snuggles closer to you, still lost in the embrace of a deep slumber.

Carefully, you shut the car door behind you as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb her peaceful rest. With Delilah cradled on your hip, you make your way towards Levi's house,

You stop outside Levi's front door, taking a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. You wait patiently, giving it a minute and a half before the door finally swings open. Levi stands there, leaning against the door frame, a smile of genuine warmth spreading across his face as he sees the two of you.

His eyes light up when he notices Delilah fast asleep in your arms. He reaches out to take her gently, pressing a loving kiss to her forehead. Delilah instinctively snuggles in closer to his neck, her tiny thumb still in her mouth.

Levi, cradling her in his arms, starts to sway his hips back and forth, a nostalgic smile on his face as if she were a baby all over again. He whispers, "Hey, little one, how long have you been asleep?"

You reply with a soft chuckle, "She fell asleep on the car ride over."

Levi continues to sway, his voice filled with tenderness. "Oh, my sweet girl. I've missed you so much."

Levi smiles as he looks at you and compliments your dress, "You look beautiful in that dress. Are you heading somewhere nice tonight?"

You chuckle, knowing that he's well aware of your reluctance. "Jamie's dragging me to a school reunion."

Levi laughs in response. "Ah, I see. Well, you'll survive, I'm sure."

You smile and then turn your attention to Delilah, who's fussing in his arms, shifting her head from one side to the other. Leaning forward, you press a soft kiss to her nose and whisper, "I love you, sweetie."

Looking back at Levi, you speak with genuine concern, "If she needs me or anything happens, don't hesitate to call, okay?"

Levi nods with understanding. "Of course, you know I will. Have a good time tonight, and we'll see you on Sunday when you pick her up."

With that, you reluctantly leave Delilah in Levi's care, trusting that they will have a wonderful weekend together while you attend the reunion with Jamie.

You make your way over to Jamie's waiting car and get inside, letting out a deep sigh as you settle into the seat. You turn to him and say with a hint of resignation, "Let's just get this over with, Jamie. Drive, please."

As the engine revs to life, you brace yourself for the upcoming school reunion, knowing that it's not exactly your idea of a fun evening.

Harry stands outside the school, his eyes fixed on the familiar building that holds a lifetime of memories. As he gazes at the entrance, a million images flood his mind, and they all seem to revolve around you.

He remembers the day he mustered up the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend, his heart pounding in his chest as he nervously stammered out the question. It was a moment of pure happiness when you said yes, and he couldn't stop grinning for days.

Then, there's that vivid memory of the night he finally confessed his love for you, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush, afraid he might lose you if he didn't say it right then. Your eyes had sparkled with joy, and you'd hugged him tightly, saying you loved him too.

But there's also the painful memory, the one he's tried to push to the back of his mind for so long. The day he didn't turn up, the day he walked out of your life, leaving you none the wiser about the future that awaited him. It had been the hardest decision he'd ever made, but he believed it was the only way to chase his dreams.

His best mate, Ellis, notices his distant demeanor and approaches him with concern. She furrows her brows and asks, "Haz, everything okay?"

He takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the weight of nostalgia that has settled upon him. "Do y’think she'll be ‘ere?"

Ellis studies him, her expression a mix of sympathy and uncertainty. "I'm not sure, Haz. She's hardly kept in touch with anyone since you left. She's started a whole new life."

Harry's heart aches at the reality of it all. The years that have passed, the choices he's made – they've all taken a toll on the life he once shared with you. It's a stark reminder of the chasm that has grown between them, and he can't help but feel a profound sense of regret.

As he stands there, Ellis places a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Look, Haz, I know this is tough, but it's been years. People change, life moves on. Maybe it's time for both of you to see where you stand now."

Harry knows she's right, but the uncertainty gnaws at him. The thought of facing you after all this time, not knowing what to expect, fills him with anxiety. He's haunted by the memories of his past decisions – the day he walked away, the day he left you behind, oblivious to the superstar journey that awaited him.

His gaze remains fixed on the school's entrance, a mixture of hope and trepidation swirling within him. Deep down, he yearns for a chance to reconnect, to make amends for the pain he may have caused.

But as the minutes tick by, the fear that you've truly moved on and created a new life without him intensifies. Harry can't help but wonder if he's about to face the consequences of the choices he made long ago – choices that have left him with an overwhelming sense of longing and regret.

A sea of people surrounds him. The reunion is in full swing, and the familiar faces of former classmates and friends fill the courtyard. Laughter and chatter echo in the air, mingling with the strains of music playing softly in the background.

Groups of friends huddle together, sharing stories and reminiscing about their school days. Some are holding photographs, while others exchange yearbooks, a tangible link to their shared past.

Brightly lit string lights and decorations adorn the outdoor area, casting a warm and inviting glow over the gathering. Tables are set up with snacks and drinks, a makeshift bar where people gather to toast to old memories and new beginnings.

A live band plays a familiar tune, setting a nostalgic backdrop for the evening. Couples dance under the moonlit sky, their movements graceful and sentimental, lost in their own world of memories.

Ellis, sensing Harry's inner turmoil, gently asks, "Haz, should we go inside?"

He looks at her, his thoughts still heavy, and nods in agreement. With a deep breath, he reaches for the masquerade mask resting beside him and places it over his face. It's like a protective shield, concealing his emotions as he prepares to face the unknown.

Harry then links his arm with Ellis, who offers him a reassuring smile, and together, they enter the building. The vibrant sounds of the reunion wash over them as they step into the bustling venue, ready to confront the past and whatever it may hold.

The walk to the hall feels endless, each step stretching into an eternity. Harry's heart races in his chest, the rhythm of his breath quickening as his anticipation grows. He can feel a lump forming in his throat, threatening to choke him, but he refuses to let it deter him.

The closer he gets to the entrance, the more he becomes aware of the pounding in his chest, the deafening thud of every heartbeat echoing in his ears. His hands tremble slightly, and he can't shake the unease that courses through his veins.

As he finally steps inside the hall, he's met with a sudden hush that washes over the room like a wave. It feels as though time itself has slowed, and every eye in the room turns toward him. The weight of their collective gaze bears down on him, a silent judgement that's impossible to ignore.

He can sense the curiosity, the recognition in their faces as they try to place him in their memories. It's as if he's stepped into a world that he both longed for and feared, a world that has continued without him.

Harry takes a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage he has left. The room seems to spin around him, and he wonders if he's made a colossal mistake.

You find yourself standing near the drinks table, a masquerade mask adorning your face, and Jamie by your side. Surprisingly, you're starting to actually enjoy yourself, despite your initial reluctance. The soft music in the background and the lively chatter of old friends create a pleasant ambiance.

You and Jamie are engaged in a friendly conversation, reminiscing about the past. You share a laugh as you recount the time you tried to get out of gym class by telling the teacher you had a sore throat.

"Remember that time I told the gym teacher I had a sore throat, and he said I didn't need my voice to play sports?" You chuckle, shaking your head at the memory.

Jamie grins and nods, "Oh, I remember. Classic move, but it didn't work out too well for you, did it?"

You laugh, taking a sip of your drink. "No, it didn't. Ended up running laps instead."

Amid the lighthearted conversation with Jamie, the hall suddenly falls into a profound silence, prompting you to turn your head and see what has captured everyone's attention. It's as if time stands still in that moment, and your eyes meet a sight that you never expected.

There, bathed in the soft, romantic glow of the hall's lighting, stands your ex-boyfriend, your one true love – Harry Styles.

He's dressed impeccably in a green suit, a masquerade mask adorning his face. The mask conceals his emotions, but his presence is unmistakable, sending a ripple through the room.

Of course the two of you were matching.

You were a vision of elegance in your light grey prom dress. The dress flowed gracefully as you descended the stairs, every step feeling like a small journey towards an unforgettable night.

The anticipation was palpable as you made your way down. You knew it was a night that marked a new chapter, a night of celebration and hope. Your heart was a mixture of excitement and nervousness, a beautiful cocktail of emotions that filled you to the brim.

And then you saw him. Harry, standing at the bottom of the stairs in a perfectly matching light grey suit. Time seemed to slow down as you took in the sight of him, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of joy at the coincidence.

It was as if the universe had conspired to ensure that you and Harry were in perfect harmony. Matching in not just attire but in your hearts as well. The smile that adorned his face when he saw you was a sight to behold, and your heart swelled with affection.

Lydia, your mother, couldn't resist commenting on the adorable match. Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she said, "Well, don't you two look adorable, matching in grey? It's like you were made for each other."

Harry's grin only grew wider as he extended his arm towards you, ready to escort you to the grand event.

"I guess we were," he replied, his voice filled with warmth and love.

As you took his arm, you shared a knowing look, an unspoken agreement that this night was not just about the dresses and suits, but the love that had brought you together.

Your heart leaps in your chest as memories flood back – the stolen glances in the hallways, the laughter shared in the cafeteria, the way he looked at you with that warmth in his eyes that made you feel like the most important person in the world.

You watch as he moves gracefully through the crowd, a confident stride that betrays none of the turmoil that might be lurking beneath the surface. People part to make way for him, their eyes following his every move.

As your eyes remain fixed on Harry's approaching figure, your heart races and your words catch in your throat. You turn to Jamie, your voice trembling as you confide in him, "I knew I shouldn't have come, Jamie. Seeing him… all these feelings have just rushed back, and I'm not sure I can handle being in the same room as him."

Jamie places a reassuring hand on your shoulder and offers a sympathetic smile. "Hey, it's okay. We can leave anytime you want. You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."

You appreciate his understanding and support, but the turmoil within you is still palpable. The mix of emotions – the longing, the memories, the unresolved feelings – swirls around you, making it difficult to think clearly.

"I appreciate that, J," you reply, your voice steadier but still tinged with uncertainty. "I just need a moment to collect myself. Maybe this is an opportunity to finally confront the past."

With a deep breath, you turn your attention back to the reunion, knowing that you have a decision to make – to stay and face what lies ahead or to leave and continue the life you've built without Harry.

Harry makes his way through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with a few familiar faces along the way. His heart races as he moves closer to the corner of the room where Ellis stands. Once there, he doesn't waste any time and leans in to speak softly to her, "Do y’see ‘er?"

Ellis follows his gaze, scanning the room before nodding and saying, "Yeah, she's over at the bar with that guy, Jamie, from chemistry."

Harry's breath catches in his throat as he locks eyes with you for a brief moment. The connection is electric, and he can't help but feel a rush of emotions flood back.

He turns his attention back to Ellis, his voice filled with uncertainty. "Do y’think I should go over there and talk t’er?"

Ellis places a comforting hand on his shoulder, offering her advice. "Maybe give it a little time, Harry. Let things settle for a bit. You'll know when the right moment comes."

Harry nods, torn between the desire to reconnect and the fear of making things awkward.

Later in the evening, you find yourself engaged in a lively conversation with an old classmate named Roxy. The two of you are catching up on everything and anything that has happened in your lives since school.

Roxy animatedly shares stories of her career, her travels, and her recent adventures, and you reciprocate by telling her about your journey into football coaching and your beautiful daughter, Delilah.

The camaraderie and laughter flow freely as you reminisce about the antics you got up to during your school days, and you can't help but appreciate the sense of nostalgia that hangs in the air. It's moments like these that make you realize the value of rekindling old friendships and sharing the experiences that have shaped your lives.

You excuse yourself from the conversation with Roxy, telling her that you're just going to the toilet. Inside, the bathroom is a haven of solitude amidst the bustling reunion. You attend to your business, the silence offering a brief respite from the whirlwind of emotions outside.

As you step out of the bathroom and start to make your way back, lost in your thoughts, you collide with something firm and unyielding. Your heart leaps to your throat as you look up, only to be met with a pair of familiar green eyes that you've missed deeply yet haven't at all. It's the man who still owns your heart, Harry Styles.

The world seems to stop around you as you lock eyes with him, the years of separation and unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. It's an encounter that leaves you feeling both awkward and full of angst, a moment you never thought you'd have to confront, and one that could change everything.

And as you stand there, face to face with Harry, you can't help but wonder if this unexpected collision is a twist of fate, a chance to finally address the feelings that have remained unresolved for so long.

You shuffled past Harry, your heart pounding in your chest, the encounter outside the bathroom sending waves of uncertainty through you. It was as if time had reversed, and the emotions you had tried to tuck away came rushing back.

As you walked away from him, you couldn't bring yourself to look back. The weight of the past and the complexities of your emotions left you feeling conflicted and vulnerable. You knew that seeing Harry again was going to stir up old feelings, but you hadn't anticipated how intense it would be.

Harry stood there, watching you walk away, his heart heavy with disappointment. He had hoped for a warm greeting, a chance to talk and maybe find some closure, but the way you had avoided looking at him stung. It was as if he didn't even exist in your world, and that thought was more painful than he had imagined.

He let out a sigh, running a trembling hand through his hair as he tried to collect his thoughts. It was difficult for him to comprehend that you could just walk away without acknowledging him, without even a brief exchange of words. The reunion had been his chance to reconnect, to possibly mend what had been broken, but it seemed like that opportunity had slipped away.

In a mix of emotions and frustration, Harry decided to step into the men's bathroom, leaning against the sink for a moment. He tried to process the anguish he felt at your avoidance, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you might still want to talk and make sense of the unresolved feelings that lingered between you.

You hurriedly returned to the bar, your heart still racing from the encounter with Harry. The vodka you ordered was a lifeline, a familiar friend that would help you navigate the unexpected twists of the night.

The bartender, efficient and understanding, prepared your drink without a word. As he handed it to you, you offered a curt nod of gratitude and took a long, fortifying sip. The strong, bittersweet taste provided a momentary reprieve from the turmoil of emotions that had surged within you.

In the midst of your solitude at the bar, Ellis, a former classmate, approached with a soft, friendly smile. You acknowledged her with a tight-lipped expression, your eyes conveying a mixture of apprehension and fatigue. The reunion had thrust you into a whirlwind of nostalgia, and now, the complexity of your feelings threatened to overwhelm you.

Ellis, eager to bridge the gap, tried to initiate a conversation. "How have you been?" she asked, her voice gentle and empathetic.

You hesitated for a brief moment, the question prompting a whirlwind of thoughts. How could you summarize the years that had passed, the heartache, the joy, the transformation of your life, all in one sentence?

Finally, you responded, "Life's been alright." It was a carefully worded answer, a guarded response that didn't reveal the depths of emotion and experience you'd encountered.

The conversation seemed to stumble into an awkward silence, the weight of the past and the unresolved emotions hanging heavily between you. You took another sip of your vodka, the familiar warmth spreading through your body, offering a temporary refuge from the discomfort of the moment.

Ellis, perceptive and caring, couldn't help but sense the underlying bitterness in your tone. She leaned in closer, her expression filled with concern, and admitted, "I know Harry feels really guilty about leaving you."

Your response was laced with bitterness.

"Yeah, I bet he does," you sighed, the memories of the past and the heartache still very much alive in your mind.

Ellis tapped her nails lightly against the bar, deep in thought.

"Maybe you should talk to him, let him explain everything," she suggested, her words gentle yet persuasive. "You might find some closure, or who knows, even rekindle what once was."

You let out a sceptical chuckle, your eyes scanning the room, but your thoughts lingering on the man you'd tried so hard to forget.

"Why should I?" you questioned, the weight of years of unanswered questions heavy on your heart.

Ellis's voice was soothing and earnest as she continued, "Because, deep down, I know for a fact that the two of you still have feelings for each other. Sometimes, facing the past is the only way to move forward."

The idea of confronting Harry and revisiting the emotions you'd buried felt both daunting and enticing.

You were seated at your desk in math class. The room was filled with the usual chatter, but your focus was on something entirely different. Your crush, seated a few rows ahead, had a way of capturing your attention.

Every time you glanced in his direction, you seemed to catch his gaze, and your heart fluttered. You felt a rush of excitement mixed with a tinge of nervousness. Math class was suddenly a lot more interesting.

Beside you sat Ellis, who happened to be your crush's best friend. She observed your interactions with a knowing smile and a mischievous glint in her eyes. She leaned over and whispered, "You know, I don't get why the two of you just don't admit your feelings."

You blushed, surprised by her comment.

"What? I don't even think he likes me like that," you admitted, trying to downplay your infatuation.

Ellis shook her head with a chuckle. "Trust me, he does. I've seen the way he looks at you when you're not looking. You're both just too stubborn to admit it."

You finished the last of your vodka just as the DJ's voice filled the air, announcing the start of the slow dance. The music shifted into a gentle melody, setting a romantic ambiance that enveloped the room.

As you looked around, you noticed the eager faces of the reunion attendees, everyone seeking out a partner for the dance. Friends and acquaintances paired up, swaying to the music, but you couldn't help but notice that no one approached Harry. It was as if they were all a bit intimidated by his presence, the weight of his fame making him an enigma to most.

Harry stood in the corner, a lone figure amidst the couples on the dance floor. There was a vulnerability in his expression that was rarely seen, a hint of longing that was both endearing and bittersweet. It was clear that he was just as much a part of the reunion as anyone else, yet he remained untouched, like a distant star in the night sky.

With a deep sigh and a final adjustment of your clammy hands against your dress, you made a resolute decision. The pull toward Harry was undeniable, and you couldn't ignore the feeling any longer. It was time to face what had been left unresolved for far too long.

You began to navigate the room, and at first, he remained oblivious to your approach. It wasn't until you stopped right in front of him that he looked up, a bewildered expression in his eyes. In his gaze, you sensed surprise, almost disbelief, as if he had convinced himself that you didn't want to be near him.

You held your hand out, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of your lips, and said, "Want to be my dance partner? I think it's time we talked."

The words hung in the air, laden with unspoken emotions and the weight of the past. Harry's surprise slowly gave way to a flicker of hope, his eyes meeting yours as he contemplated your offer.

You took Harry's hand and gently guided him to the dance floor, the anticipation and uncertainty palpable in the air. As the music started to play, a soft, melodic tune that filled the room, you both hesitated before finally finding your place on the floor.

Hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingertips grazing the soft hairs at the nape. Harry reciprocated by placing his hands on your waist, his touch light and tentative. The proximity felt both foreign and familiar, and you started swaying to the music, finding a rhythm that was uniquely your own.

The silence between you was awkward, filled with words left unsaid, emotions unexpressed. It was as if the weight of the years apart, the unanswered questions, and the unspoken feelings had manifested in this dance.

You couldn't help but steal glances at each other, each fleeting look revealing a complex mix of emotions—nostalgia, longing, and a hint of uncertainty.

The two of you swayed to the music in the awkward embrace of the slow dance, caught in a moment that had been a decade in the making. As the silence grew more uncomfortable, Harry finally broke it, his voice carrying the weight of their shared history.

"How have you been?" he asked, his eyes locked onto yours, searching for a glimpse of the girl he used to know.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal.

"Life's been fine," you replied, the words feeling both superficial and loaded with unspoken complexities.

Feeling the tension in the air, you decided to shift the focus.

"And how's it living the life of a rockstar?" you asked, trying to break through the awkwardness. It was a loaded question, but one that seemed safe enough.

Harry's expression tightened, as if he were choosing his words carefully. "S’a lot. Busy, y’know. But s’what I've always wanted."

As you pressed Harry for answers, the weight of the past seemed to hang in the air.

"Why did you leave, Harry?" you asked, your voice filled with a mix of curiosity and pain. "You didn't say anything. You just disappeared."

Harry sighed, and as he met your gaze, his eyes held a hint of regret.

"M’didn't want t’hurt ye’," he confessed, his voice low and sincere.

The words hit you with a mix of emotions.

"You didn't want to hurt me?" you repeated, the realisation sinking in.

Just as he seemed about to elaborate, your phone rang, displaying Levi's name on the screen.

The phone call from Levi seemed to have come at an inopportune moment, breaking the fragile conversation between you and Harry. With a sigh, you held up a finger as if to say, "I need to take this." You turned and walked away from the slow dance, your steps guided by the beckoning ring of your phone.

As you distanced yourself from Harry and the dance floor, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief and disappointment. The unanswered questions and unspoken feelings lingered between you, a weight you had carried for far too long.

In the crowd, Harry caught Jamie's eyes, and their silent exchange was filled with unspoken understanding. Jamie nodded in the direction you had left, mouthing the words,

"Go after her." The silent encouragement was a reminder that some things were worth pursuing, even after a decade of silence and distance.

As you stepped outside the venue to take the call, your heart raced with concern. You quickly answered the phone, bringing it up to your ear, and without preamble, you asked, "Is everything okay with Delilah?"

Levi's voice came through the line, reassuring but tinged with understanding. "Yeah, she's fine. She woke up just now and started crying because she didn't get to speak to you before bed."

A sigh of relief escaped your lips, but you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. "I'm so sorry, Levi. Put her on the phone. I need to talk to her."

The phone was passed to Delilah, and her voice, small and tearful, reached your ear. "Mummy?"

Your heart ached as you replied, "Hey, sweetheart. I'm here. I'm sorry I missed our bedtime chat. I love you so much."

Delilah's voice was still laced with sleepiness and a touch of uncertainty. "Love you too, Mummy. When are you coming back?"

You glanced back at the venue, where the reunion was still in full swing, and then back to the dark knight beyond. The choice you were about to make felt significant, not just for yourself but for your daughter as well. "I'll be back soon, baby. I promise. You be good for daddy, okay?"

As you finished your conversation with Delilah, ending with an "I love you," you hung up the phone and took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your choices bearing down on you. The brisk night air provided a welcome contrast to the warm and crowded venue behind you.

Just then, Harry walked outside, and the timing was uncanny. He caught the tail end of your call, hearing your affectionate words to whoever was on the phone. A wave of mixed emotions washed over him. He thought he had missed his chance, that you had moved on with your life and no longer needed him.

Turning around, you were startled to find Harry standing there in the shadows. His sudden appearance caught you off guard, and you let out a little jump in surprise.

Harry, concern etched across his features, asked, "S’everything alright? Y’looked panicked when y’saw y’phone."

You quickly collected yourself, offering a reassuring smile. "Yeah, everything's fine. I just needed to answer it without the loud music," you explained, hoping to quell any worries.

Harry, seemingly relieved, asked, "Was that y’boyfriend?"

With a sigh, you shook your head. "No, not my boyfriend. It was my daughter."

The silence that followed was heavy, and Harry's eyes widened in realisation.

You were sprawled out in Harry's garden, a patchwork of the evening sky painted with shades of deep blue and a tapestry of stars, twinkling like a thousand distant dreams. The soft scent of flowers and freshly mowed grass wafted through the air, blending with the comforting scent of Harry's cologne.

As you lay in his arms, cocooned in the embrace of young love, the world beyond seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you and the vast expanse of the night. The grass cradled your bodies like a feathered mattress, a canvas for the dreams that flowed freely.

Amidst this tranquil backdrop, Harry's voice broke the tranquil silence.

"Do y’ever want t’ave kids?" he asked, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your arm. His words were like a gentle breeze, laden with curiosity and the promise of an uncertain future.

You turned your head to look at him, your eyes meeting him in the dim light. A smile graced your lips as you replied,

"Yeah, I'd love to have kids someday. Especially our kids." The words tumbled out with an ease that only young love could inspire, a declaration of your shared hopes and dreams.

Harry's heart skipped a beat, and he kissed your forehead, his warm breath mingling with the cool night air.

"Our kids," he repeated softly, his voice filled with promise and the intoxicating scent of first love. In that moment, under the canvas of a starlit sky, you both painted a picture of a future filled with shared adventures and laughter, not yet aware of the challenges and heartaches that lay ahead.

You lay there, sharing your dreams and aspirations, your hearts intertwined like the constellations above.

Harry looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

"Y’ave a daughter?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You nodded, the weight of the past and present pressing heavily upon you.

"Yeah," you replied, your voice thick with emotion. "She's four."

The question hung in the air, heavy and unresolved. Harry's voice broke the silence, asking, "Are y’with the dad?"

Your eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and frustration. You looked at him with a hurt expression before saying, "Is that all you care about? Whether I'm with her dad or not?"

Harry, seemingly flustered, quickly responded, "No, f’course not."

The anger and hurt simmered beneath the surface as you shook your head, the words pouring out with the force of years of unspoken resentment. "You lost the right to care about who I'm with or my life a long time ago when you up and left. You didn't even deserve to know that I had a daughter."

Harry's face contorted with regret as your words hit him like a tidal wave. The argument had grown intense, and the emotions that had been suppressed for years were now surging to the surface.

He took a step closer to you, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he finally said, "M’sorry."

Your eyes met his, but the anger still smoldered within you.

"Sorry isn't going to change anything," you retorted, your voice laced with frustration and pain.

As he began to speak, his voice wavered with raw emotion.

"M’sorry that I left ye," he admitted, his words tinged with guilt and sorrow. "But I knew f’a fact that y’wouldn't want t’live the life with a rockstar, a life where y’hardly see me."

Your confusion and worry grew as you stood on Harry's doorstep, knocking anxiously.

When Harry's mother answered the door, her expression was sombre. You immediately asked, "Where's Harry? He was supposed to meet me today."

His mother hesitated for a moment before delivering the news that would shatter your world. "Harry didn't tell you? He's left, dear. He left early this morning to head to London."

You blinked, struggling to comprehend the reality of the situation.

"But when will he be back?" you implored, your voice trembling.

His mother's gaze remained sympathetic, but her words were final. "He won't be coming back, love. He's a part of One Direction now, and their tours are about to begin."

You knew he was part of the band, you had gone to a few live shows and even looked after him after the band finished in Third, when all he wanted was you.

He never told you about a tour, about anything, although you noticed that he was on his phone quite a lot, you just thought he was playing that stupid game.

But you must have been wrong.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing, and the initial shock gave way to a growing sense of despair.

"Why didn't he tell me?" you managed to stammer out, your voice cracking as you tried to understand.

You had thought your relationship was built on trust and communication.

His mother's sympathetic gaze only deepened the emotional turmoil you were experiencing.

"I think he didn't want to hurt you," she offered gently. "This opportunity means a lot to him."

Too late for that.

Your mind raced with a million questions. How had everything changed so suddenly? What would this mean for your future together? You couldn't imagine life without Harry by your side.

"He's been practising with the band for weeks now," Harry's mother continued, "and their tours are about to begin. It's a big chance for him, and he didn't want to hold himself back."

Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of sorrow, confusion, and frustration. You had never expected this turn of events, and the sense of abandonment was overwhelming.

The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air. Harry continued, his gaze locked onto yours,

"T’band was just starting out, and I knew I'd be on the road, seeing y’less and less. I didn't want t’hurt ye."

The argument, once fueled by anger, seemed to transform into a tumultuous sea of emotions. Your heart ached as you listened to his words, realizing that he had walked away not out of indifference, but out of love—or what he had believed was love.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you heard Harry's confession, the raw emotion in his voice cutting through the anger and resentment that had fueled your argument. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice, and replied, "I didn't get to choose what life I wanted to live. I wanted to be with you, but you made that choice for me."

Harry's eyes glistened with remorse as he implored, "I wanted t’protect ye’ t’keep y’from a life that would hurt ye."

Your voice trembled as you spoke, the tears now flowing freely.

"The only life I wanted to live was one with you, but then you up and left me, our relationship," you said, your voice breaking as you confronted the years of pain that had been buried deep within.

Harry's response was a whisper of regret. "When I auditioned, y’had t’walk out halfway through because y’didn't do well in the crowd."

At this, your emotions spiraled, and you couldn't contain the rush of memories and feelings that overwhelmed you. You cried as you defended yourself and the relationship you had once cherished. "I was scared, Harry, scared of the expectations, of the distance, but I still loved you. I didn't want to let you down, but you walked out on us, on me."

The weight of all the years of heartache and misunderstandings became too much to bear, and you started to sob uncontrollably. The tears flowed freely, and your body shook with the intensity of your emotions.

Without hesitation, Harry wrapped his arms around you, drawing you close, his chest becoming a sanctuary for your broken heart. His voice, gentle and soothing, whispered into your ear, "M’so sorry, m’love. I'll spend the rest f’m’life making it up t’you."

Amidst the tears and the weight of unspoken words, your voice quivered as you finally found the strength to speak.

"Harry, you don't understand how hard it was...how hard it still is," you confessed, your words choked with emotion. "You were my everything, and you just left without even a word."

Harry's grip tightened, and his voice was filled with a deep sense of remorse. "I know, and I can't change the past, but I want t’make things right, t’be there f’ye."

You paused for a moment, looking up at him, your eyes red and swollen. "It's not just about me, Harry. I've moved on, and I have a daughter now. You just can't come back into my life like this."

His voice was filled with sincerity as he replied, "I understand. I'll do whatever it takes t’earn y’forgiveness and be a part f’y’life again."

The weight of the years hung heavy in the air, but as you held each other amidst the tears and the apologies, there was a glimmer of hope that perhaps, with time and effort, wounds could heal and a new chapter could begin.

179 notes · View notes

the-bad-batch-baroness · 10 months ago

Text

Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Part 2

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Characters: Wolffe, Plo Koon, Cara (child OFC)

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, grief, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 911

Author's Note: Well, I made it into a series based off of the feedback I got from the poll. I also gave Wolffe's daughter a name and updated the previous chapter to include it. Uh, forewarning, it gets worse before it gets better. We still have several parts of angst to get through before we ever start seeing glimpses of happiness, but it will happen eventually!

Part 1 || Next

Series Masterlist

"CC-3636?" a nurse called as she entered the waiting room carrying a data-pad.

"Yes, I'm CC-3636," Wolffe said and quickly wiped his face. He stood up from the bench and approached the nurse.

"I need you to fill out this form so we can alert the next of kin to claim the body," the nurse said.

Wolffe knit his brows together. "I am the next of kin. I'm her husband."

The nurse bit her lip. "I'm sorry, but according to current Republic statutes your marriage is invalid, which makes you a family-friend, not a next of kin."

"Friend?" Wolffe scoffed. "We live together. Have a child together. I'd say that's more than friends."

The nurse sighed. "Cohabitation and bearing a child does not constitute a legal binding marriage in the eyes of Republic law."

Wolffe's breath was stolen as he stared blankly at the nurse. She couldn't be serious. There was no way. They couldn't get a marriage license. It was impossible. He tried and it was futile. Every which way he attempted failed. He couldn't get around the fact that he wasn't a legal citizen. He didn't even have a legal name that could've been put on the marriage license. They had the ceremony, did everything else they were supposed to do, but no one would give them an official license.

"Speaking of which," the nurse added under her breath, as if her own words pained her to speak. "We'll also need to contact child services since Cara is now considered a legal orphan."

"Orphan?" Wolffe exclaimed. "But I'm her father!"

"Is your name on the birth certificate?" the nurse asked, as if she already knew the answer.

A lump formed in Wolffe's throat and he clenched his fist. "No… It's not. But my DNA… I'm still her biological father."

"I'm sorry," the nurse said. "But legally you aren't. She will be placed in a children's care facility pending a familial investigation, and if no family is found, she will be placed into foster care."

"You can't take my daughter!" Wolffe yelled. "I've already lost my wife tonight! And now you want to take my kid from me too? What is wrong with you people!"

The nurse was startled at Wolffe's emotional outburst.

"She needs me!" Wolffe continued as he raised his voice higher. "I'm all she has left!"

"Sir," the nurse said. "I'm so sorry, but there's nothing I can do. We're bound by the laws."

"I swear to the Maker if you lay a single hand on her I'll–"

"If I may," Plo interrupted. He carefully handed the sniffling child back to Wolffe, then ushered the nurse down the hallway. "Perhaps you and I can discuss the details of this form privately."

"Very well, Master Jedi," the nurse agreed and followed him.

Wolffe collapsed back onto the bench and pressed his daughter against his chest as tightly as he could, terrified that at any moment someone would walk through the med-center doors and rip her out of his arms. He'd never let them take her. He'd rather die than let them take her. She meant everything to him, and with his wife gone, Cara was the only piece of her he had left. He didn't think his night could go from bad to worse, but his nightmares were quickly becoming a reality.

Wolffe felt Cara squirm in his arms and he loosened his grip. She didn't say anything between her quiet sniffles, but settled herself onto his lap to get more comfortable. Her face was red and puffy from crying, and she looked exhausted. Wolffe pulled up the edge of his sleeve and wiped up the snot dripping down her face, brushed a piece of her black curly hair away, then let her settle comfortably against his chest. He tilted his head down and kissed the top of her head while he rocked her back and forth the best he could.

"It's going to be okay," Wolffe whispered into her hair. "I won't let anything happen to you."

After a few more minutes, Plo returned with the nurse. They exchanged a few more words that Wolffe couldn't hear, but the nurse was smiling, so he hoped it was good news. Maker knew he couldn't handle anything else going wrong. As Plo approached the bench, Wolffe felt a new knot forming in the pit of his stomach. As tired and emotionally drained as he was, he would find a way to protect his daughter, even if it went against all of his training and every GAR regulation.

"General?" Wolffe questioned as Plo approached him, his exhaustion seeping through his voice.

"I have taken legal custody of Cara," Plo said. "She will reside at the Jedi Temple for the time being, and your wife will receive proper funeral rights as well."

Wolffe leaned his head back against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the stars."

The fact that his general would take custody of his daughter, just to keep her from being taken away from him, touched Wolffe's heart deeply. The arrangement was still not ideal, but it was better than what he hoped for, considering the alternatives of foster care or next of kin. At least at the Jedi Temple, Cara would be primarily safe and cared for, and he could see her unrestricted by laws. It wouldn't be enough when he got deployed, but for right now, at this moment, it was more than enough.

Part 1 || Next

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List: @nahoney22 @commander-sunshine @sunshinesdaydream @padawancat97 @verndusk @sun-roach @coraex @lickylickylicky @homemade-clones @523rdrebel @clonemedickix @starrylothcat @moonwrecked @ladyzirkonia @stunkbiggu @cdblake1565 @ladytano420 @moonlightwarriorqueen @anxiouspineapple99 @clonethirstingisreal @dreamie411 @trixie2023 @cw80831 @ca77m3anna @reader6898 @kimiheartblade @dukeoftheblackstar @rinwritesfics @t3mpest98 @novas-daydreaming

Join my taglist HERE

Tip me a tea on Ko-fi HERE

117 notes · View notes

hotxcheeto · 2 years ago

Text

━ 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, smut, oral sex ( r! receiving ), vaginal fingering ( r! receiving ), kissing, making out, hickey's, talk of sex, talk of shitty moms, talk of foster care, mentions and talk of reader and ellie being nervous/having date anxiety, legal alcohol consumption ( they're over 21 ), mentions of drugs ( no actual use ), super fluffy and cute, awkwardness of a second date

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope/mostly

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - SHE'S BACKKKKKKKKKK, I'm so sorry this part took so long I started writing it yesterday because I forgot about this series but she's here, she's queer, and she's smutttyyyyyyy, part 5 is already being worked on ;)))

𝗔𝗨 - Modern !

PREV | NEXT

☾ ONE NIGHT STAND MASTERLIST ☽

PLEASE REBLOG! I NOTICE YOU ALL!! THANK YOU!!

Barely a week had gone by since the shit show of the first date.

So Ellie had took it upon herself to try and fix what had already happened.

But something about this second date was different for both of you. Something had shifted. Whether it was the horrid end to the last one or maybe it was the fact that you would be completely alone with her instead of in public.

Just you two, meaning the only people who could fuck up this chance was yourselves. And neither of your minds let you forget that fact.

To say Ellie as nervous was an understatement.

Her palms were always sweaty, but by God she swore her jeans would have hand prints if she kept wiping away the anxiety onto them.

It wasn't the first date, but the date was at her place. She planned it because the one you'd planned went to shit. Neither of your faults, but she felt she had to make it up.

But now she'd probably ruin it by passing out the moment you stepped through the threshold.

The girl had cleaned her apartment a thousand times. Maybe it'd been more, she'd lost count. Jesse was openly shocked when he'd came to hang out with her two days before, almost positive Ellie had been under the influence from how spotless the usually cluttered place was.

But now Ellie was trying to make it look 'lived in', Dina telling her you'd know as soon as you walked in she'd only cleaned for you.

According to Dina, it was a red flag.

The auburn haired girl found it stupid though, despite listening to the advice and trying her best to make it look natural.

To clean or not to clean. To live, or look like a fucking magazine. What did it matter, if you didn't like her, you didn't like her.

But that's not how it felt, it felt like she was ready to implode every time she even thought of your face. Or how the last date had went, or the fact that you'd be coming to her apartment and be at the door in less then..

"Fuck." She whispered, looking at the time on her phone while she buttoned her shirt up, leaving enough showing to ensure she didn't look like a child trying to wear a school uniform for the first time.

She then rolled the sleeves to her elbows, showing off her tattoo. Soon beginning to start the pacing once more, letting out a few whispers to herself that were filled with encouragement and a shaky tone.

For a moment, she even pondered texting you and telling you that her apartment had spontaneously burned down and that she'd never be able to talk to you again because she was relocating to the most secluded town in Alaska.

But then a knock made her jump, swallowing hard to push back any embarrassing things that might try to crawl out of her throat to fuck with her. Praying the anxious rambling would stay at a minimum.

You waited at the door, rocking back and forth on your heels. Wondering if your outfit was too much, or was it too little? Jeans were enough, right? Or was this too dressy? Should you have decided against flats? But it was an apartment, not a fancy restaurant. You'd probably just take them off anyway.

You didn't get to run away from your thoughts though, the door opening too quickly making you look up with a smile. Trying your best to hide the overthinking.

"Hey." You greeted, voice excited yet soft. Ellie immediately noticing the vanilla scent that practically radiated off of you, like a candy shop. It was comforting, making her relax and her fears calm for just a moment.

"Hey, you look.. amazing." Your smile seemed to get even larger at her compliment, making something inside her flutter. "Here,"

She finally seemed to get a grip, moving to the side to let you in, nearly fainting when you began to look around.

"Your apartment's cute, and you said it was too nerdy." You referenced her texts, stepping forward so that her living room was in sight, looking at the small figurines on her TV stand along with the art on her walls. "I think it's nice."

You turned around as she shut the door, awkwardly standing in the tiny entrance while glancing around, not exactly sure what to do next.

Like you were lost in the middle of the woods, except it was only you two and you'd never met one another. The silence thick for a moments time, suffocating yourself while the sound of her front door lock echoed against the walls.

"Do you want me to take off my shoes?" You broke the quiet first, hating the way it felt on your ears.

"Yeah, if you want. It doesn't really matter." So you did, noticing that she obviously didn't have hers on, instead black socks that went with the rest of her dark outfit.

The entire apartment smelled like faint cologne and another scent you couldn't recognize, you assumed it was her own. Looking at her back as you followed her while she moved away from the door, feeling like a lost child in a new environment.

"Sorry I haven't had anyone over in a long time. Anyone meaning like a date, or... whatever. Yeah, you know what I mean." You grinned, agreeing with her. "Yeah I do. Trust me, it's been a while since I've done anything like this."

On her small coffee table were a few comic books she'd told you about, along with a bottle of wine and two glasses set out and a few other things scattered about neatly.

You sat down, setting your bag on the ground beside you while looking at Ellie. The girl plopping down on the cushion, immediatley grabbing the bottle of alcohol.

"M'gonna be honest, I don't really drink wine but you don't really look like a dark whiskey or scotch type." You giggled, watching her arms flex as she took the cork from the top, pouring the red liquid equally into both of them.

"You drink whiskey?" You asked, ignoring your hot face as you watched her hands grab the glass, handing it to you. "Big fan, Joel mainly got me hooked, he's a bourbon drinker." "By how he sounds, I thought he was a Pink Whitney type." You joked.

Ellie snorted, taking a large drink of the wine while you sipped. Nodding as she pulled it away from her lips.

"Definitely, he's a partier. Gets high on the weekends for fun." You laughed, swirling the alcohol around the glass before drinking some more, hoping it would calm your beating heart.

"The food would be here, but I fucked the order up the first time. Then it said another hour or two like five minutes ago. Dinner rush." She awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck, grinning when you found the statement funny. "It's okay, I'm gonna be honest I thought I was gonna end up super late because I couldn't find my way here, so cheers to that."

You both downed the rest in your cups, Ellie leaning over to pour you some more while also doing the same to hers.

"How's work been?" She asked, the wine bottle clinked as she set it down, meeting your eyes once again. "Boring, besides me and my boss getting into arguments every now and again. He just doesn't understand the demographics these days, he's stuck in the past."

"Old fuck." She muttered, hearing you chuckle while taking a sip. "For sure. Especially with how condescending he is." You rolled your eyes, leaning back as the wine slowly began to relax you.

"How's it been at the shop?" "Oh!" The excitement on her face made you feel the same, laying your head against your knuckles while she set her glass down. "Hold on, I wanted to show you this."

Ellie got up from the couch, walking down a small hallway before disappearing leaving you to enjoy the quiet comfort of her living room.

It was warm, she kept all the big lights off and instead opted for lamps and string lights. The yellow glow reminding you of your own home. You wondered in the moment how Poppy was and if she'd finished her dinner.

You also wondered how long she'd lived alone. And where she'd gotten the pictures she'd hung up that were far from fancy, more like collectable. But they were interesting, especially the few above the TV.

She sounded so shy about her place in writing, almost scared you'd think she was weird. You promised that you would go in judgement free. Besides, it made you feel even more excited to see it, wondering what hers could look like compared to yours.

"New back piece I came up with, guy came in yesterday to get this approved." Ellie appeared in the hallway again, her voice shaking you from your thoughts.

In her hands was a very colorful, thick-looking sketchbook. The couch dipped making you bounce while Ellie flipped through to find what she was looking for.

As she went through, you spotted small sketches of her friends and who you presumed to be Vegas and Joel. There were some others you weren't sure about, a couple sceneries, animals, but then she passed a sketch of Cat, the girl who you'd met on your very failed first date.

A strange feeling entered your stomach, shifting uncomfortably and pretending you hadn't noticed. But you knew that she had known you seen it, choosing not to say a word as she finally found the right drawing.

"It's based off a bunch of scary movies." She let you set your glass down before she handed it to you, allowing you to examine her art while carefully watching your face. "This is amazing. You really drew this?" Slightly stupid question, but it had already came out before you could stop it.

"Yeah, took me forever." Her eyes bounced back and forth between your fingers lightly moving over the pen and pencil marks, and your expressions that subtly shifted here and there.

"That's so cool, especially the ghostface. And I like where you put Sam, Trick 'r Treat is one of the best scary movies ever made. Just saying." You turned to face her, handing her back the sketchbook. Picking up your wine once more and drinking the rest, neither of you noticing how close your bodies had become.

"Thanks." Her cheeks were flushed, a light pink dust that was hard to hide. So instead she grabbed her drink, doing the same thing you'd just done.

"Fuck I'm hungry." You nodded in agreeance, pouring you both a third glass. Thighs bumping while you shifted to sit more comfortably.

"Y'know, you're way too humble about your artwork. That's fucking awesome, and here you talk about your work like you're some amateur." "They're really not that good." You lightly hit her shoulder with your fingers, huffing.

"You're so annoying. Trust me, they are." "Yeah, yeah. How's the book going?" "Ah, changing the conversation, how subtle." Ellie leaned against the back of the couch, playfully swatting her hand at you.

You turned your entire body to the side, facing her, laying your hand on your head while the other held your wine. Raising your eyebrow at her before you decided to instead leave the art talk in the past.

"It's going slow, but writing book is always slow. Unless you're using the power of plagiarism." "Fuck, I used to plagiarize all my essays in high school, if only I had you back then." You scoffed, smiling, "Oh yeah, I was a stellar essay writer. But you would've had to pay."

"What, I wouldn't get a discount?" You shrugged, bringing the rim of the glass to your lips. "Not without something in return." "Oh... I see how it is." "Can't have nothing reduced nor free in this world, Miss Williams. Gotta survive out here."

"Hey, m'not judging." She put her hands up in faux innocence.

"What were you like in high school?" Shrugging, Ellie took in a breath, eyes wide before you both began to chuckle.

"Dork. I was such a dork, and I was a closeted lesbian who had no idea what I was feeling. I dressed like a twelve year old boy on top of that, so I was closeted to... myself? It was pretty fucking obvious."

"Oh God.' You covered your mouth, Ellie hiding her face with her free hand. "Oh my fuck, I can't believe I had friends. On top of that, I was just getting out of foster care." "Geez, that had to have been such a shit time."

She nodded, finishing her drink and moving forward to set it down before returning back to her old position.

"It helped though, when Joel took me in. I had somewhere to go everyday. Going from house to house, family to family, fucked up my shit."

You moved a piece of hair from her face, tucking it behind ear while she talked. Staring forward, and around the room, but not at you.

"We ran into each other a few times before that. I'd fuck with him, make fun of him. He kind of... took me in on accident, like a stray dog, even after I drove him insane. But it helped both of us."

"You guys sound like you have a pretty good relationship."

"It was rocky, for a minute there. Angsty fucking teenage shit. But we're good now, really good."

Her gaze finally settled on yours, spotting the softness in your irises. Trying not to smile to herself when she seen your own small one dancing on your lips.

"What about you?" She watched you take in a deep breath, biting on your lip while looking down.

"My mom is... a piece of work. We're not really the greatest when we're together. She's gotta be the better one in the relationship, the one with the upper hand every time, the one to get the last word. Y'know what I mean?"

Ellie shook her head.

"I went no contact after I turned nineteen, I just couldn't take it anymore. My dad, he understood even if he wasn't the best along the way, they're divorced now, my siblings understood too. But for a while my other family didn't get it. That was until she couldn't target me anymore. Fuckers."

"She sounds..." "Like a bitch?" "Just a tiny bit."

You rubbed your face with your hands, letting them fall into your lap.

"Yep. Mother dearest." "So sweet."

You grabbed the bottle again, filling up both the wine glasses. Taking your own and handing Ellie hers.

"Alright, enough of the sad shit. Truth or drink." Ellie laughed, shaking her head while adjusting her entire body parallel to yours. "What are we? Thirteen?" "Yes, I get to go first."

Ellie motioned to you, a silent 'go ahead' while glancing at her phone that had lit up from a notification.

"Have you ever done any drugs besides weed?" "Yes, not telling what though." You brought your legs up, sitting criss cross on the couch. "Boring. Your turn."

"Are one night stands normal for you?" You made an indescribable noise, shaking your head. "Nope. Not usually. You're one of the firsts. Despite my drunk confidence, you were actually probably only the second or third."

"Well shit, guess I'm special." "Fuck off, my turn."

You thought for a moment, swishing the red drink around and around.

"Do you stay friends with all your exes?" Her mouth dropped while you cackled, taking a drink just to drink while giggling to yourself.

"C'mon, Cat literally introduced herself as your ex. I have to ask!"

"I don't, promise, she's the only one and technically I don't think of her as a friend." "What do you think of her as?" "First of all, that's two questions. And two, an annoying date ruiner." Ellie drank for no particular reason, looking at you with a curious face as your amusement calmed.

"What happened between you and Ava, or whatever the fuck her name was." You choked, looking up at the ceiling as you thought of how to word your response.

"Anya. Just didn't work out, she was about as bad as my mother. But at least my mom leaves me alone now. She also cheated on me, like, a lot." "Fuck, man, that's horrible." "I know right?"

You both seemed to realize you were answering and drinking, taking a sip at the same time while you thought of a question. Biting the inside of your cheek.

"Why do you have a sketch of Cat?"

"Walked myself into that." You nodded, "Yep."

"Forgot I did. That sketchbook is old, I just found it a few weeks ago, wanted to use the rest of the blank pages." "Hmm... bet you were her knight in dull armor."

Ellie flipped you off, grabbing the half empty bottle while then filling the cups, not caring about it being equal or a small amount, it was clear the end of the night was far from over.

"Nah. Got another girl in mind." "Is that so?" "Right, my turn."

Ellie went quiet for a second, her eyes running over your face a thousand times while you just stared back. Letting her come up with her next question.

"Last person you had sex with?"

You didn't hesitate.

"You."

"Oh really?" She whispered.

"Mhm."

"And how was that?"

You shrugged, taking a large drink of the wine.

"Not bad. Would probably do it again, great service."

You hadn't realized that her hand had settled on the knee closest to the back of the couch. Her fingers moving to run up and towards your thigh, you now also realized how close she was, your ability to see every individual freckle on her face seemed to give it away.

"My turn. Last person you had sex with?" Ellie faked thinking for a second, tapping her finger on her cup. "Umm... right, you."

"Really?" "What? Do I give off a different feeling?" You nodded very widely, downing the rest of your wine. "You give me nerdy fuckboy vibes." Ellie coughed a laugh, her grip on your thigh tightening.

"No fucking way." "You bet. It's kind of attractive. Unless you're a fuckboy cheater, and not the fuckboy hot character in a romance novel. That's not attractive." "Right, there's a difference." "Obviously."

You let your fingers run along her knuckles, still feeling her grasp on you. Nails running up and down her wrist. Watching your own movements.

"M'gonna be honest, but only because I'm wine drunk." You were tispy, but when it was wine it was different, everyone knows that. And something about it made you want to tell her, a flirty confidence, something you sure wouldn't have if you were sober.

"You were like one of the best." "Better than Anya?" You snickered, humming. "Yeah, way better. But I dunno, that liquor was a lot stronger than the wine, some of its a little fuzzy."

Her warm palm moved inwards, your own hand ending up on her arm. A tight, pulsing feeling entering the area between your legs making you want to squeeze them shut.

"What? Want me to remind you?"

You moved your shoulders,

"Depends, how much do you want me to remember?"

A second passed, wondering if she'd make a move or if she was waiting for you to do so. But all your questions were quickly answered when she drank the rest from her cup and grabbed yours. Clumsily setting them both on the table before turning back to you.

She grabbed your face, pushing lips against yours so suddenly it pushed you backwards. Your entire being welcoming her in when you kissed back, tasting the berry flavored drink on her tongue paired with the feeling of her soft lips.

"Ellie.." She cut you off, kissing you again, letting your hand run through her hair and undo any style that she had. Nails raking against her scalp when she grinded her hips against yours, a light sound passing your lips.

Her touch was less rough than the first time, her sensual caresses never going unnoticed.

"Marks or no marks?" "Deja vu much?" "I had to ask."

You smiled, letting your thumb run over upturned line of her mouth.

"Whatever you prefer."

She moved back down, kissing even deeper than she had before. Hand cupping your ass while she pushed into you, burying you into the cushions, her other arm keeping her body above yours.

Her lips moving down to your jawline, teeth lightly grazing your flesh as she made her way down to the collar of your shirt.

Ellie's hands then slipped under the bottom of your top, harshly tugging you forward making you laugh, grabbing her shoulders to keep yourself steady.

"Go ahead."

She didn't wait either, pulling it off your body and throwing it off somewhere. Lips meeting the valley of your tits, your bra keeping them perfectly pushed up for her to see.

"You're so fucking pretty.." Your breathy laugh made her smile, moving her knee to the middle of your legs while her mouth met yours again. Her fingers messing with the button of your jeans leading to the sound of the zipper coming undone.

"Sit up for me." You listened, lifting your hips and feeling your pants disappearing in just a swift movement.

"Someone's impatient."

"Fuck, if only you could see yourself." She whispered.

It sent your mind into a frenzy, shy under her watchful eyes that scanned your body, wanting to remember every detail she didn't care to look at the first time.

"I could say the same about you, pretty girl." Her blush darkened, noticing the way you sat up to take your bra off, throwing it away before you grabbed the hem of her shirt just as she did yours.

"Your turn." Silently, the girl ripped her top off, throwing it away. Looking down at your fingers undoing her bottoms, yanking her towards you by the waistband and giving her another kiss.

"Lay back." She muttered, kicking her jeans onto the floor, moving backwards to put herself between your legs. "Please.. please just fuck me." "Since you're asking so nicely."

Fingers hooking around the band of your underwear, slowly dragging them down your thighs, her nails tickling your skin. The sight of your wet cunt drove her insane making her spend no time getting rid of the garment.

Her warm tongue then swirled around your clit, a strangled gasp escaping your throat, your hand slapping over your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

"Oh my God." "Remember that?" She teased, not letting you answer when she sucked roughly on the small bundle of nerves. Moving your hand over your tit, the other threaded itself in her hair.

"Mhm! Oh fuck- Ellie I-" Your legs tried their best to squeeze around her head but she wouldn't let them, pushing your thighs down keeping you perfectly spread for her.

"Fuck you taste good." Ellie removed one of her hands from your thigh, two fingers prodding your hole making you unintentionally let out a loud, girly moan.

"More please.." You squeaked out, but she could barely hear you, seemingly getting the message though when her two fingers dipped inside. Pushing against your favorite spot while reaching deep inside your cunt, kissing your clit as she entered.

"Ellie!" She kissed the inside of your thigh, going back to circling your bud her tongue again.

You swore you were seeing stars, head digging into the couch while your back arched right off the cushions. Your belly tight, legs going numb as your entire body tingled.

Nails digging into her scalp, her arm keeping your hips down by keeping her arm wrapped around your thigh.

She didn't go slow, fingering you as deeply and quickly as her stamina would allow. Fingers running along your gushy walls, and this time she actually got to enjoy it.

Enjoy how you squeezed around her while she slipped a third finger in, sitting up slightly to push her knuckled even deeper. Never letting up, your wet sounds going unheard of by you surely but complained about by her neighbors.

"You close babe?" You nodded profusely. "Uh huh, fuck." She wouldn't slow down though. "You gonna cum?" "Yes- yes- please- oh fuck!"

Your hand moved over your mouth again, keeping your whines to a low volume when you let go, Ellie's hand wrapping around your wrist and tugging it away from your face.

"Oh my God!" You all but screamed, shaking as you came against her tongue, her pace never stopping. Instead her fingers sped up, a loud squelching sound then entering your ears as the fuzzy cotton feeling left your mind.

Coming down, you felt empty when her fingers slipped away, rubbing your clit lightly while her face pulled away. Lips glistening with your cum, her tongue running over them while you watched.

Ellie moved to then kiss the area on your lower belly a few times, moving up to do the same to your lips. It took you a moment to kiss back, brain still scrambled but eventually you did so, grabbing her cheeks to keep her there.

"I..." Your chest moved up and down quickly, Ellie nuzzling the side of your face as you tried to catch your breath. Entire body shaking lightly while your mind raced to run at the same pace as the rest of you.

The silence comforting unlike it was earlier, no longer awkward or shy, it was comfortable. It was becoming familiar to you, you liked it.

You liked it a lot.

The moment was interrupted though, a knock at the door then made you both jump, the girl gripping you close while looking up towards the front door that was out of her sight.

"I'll be right back, okay?" You nodded your head, finally meeting her eyes. "M'kay. I have money-" "I got it."

She kissed you again, running her thumb over your cheek.

"Be right back."

"Are you sure? I can do the tip."

She sat up, pulling her shirt back on as quickly as possible, another knock coming from the door making her yell out.

"I promise, besides, there's always next time."

"That's what you said last time."

"Fuck, that sucks, already got my wallet."

"Oh my God, Ellie."

#ellie williams smut #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #the last of us x reader #ellie williams #tlou #ellie tlou2 #ellie tlou

814 notes · View notes

chaifootsteps · 3 months ago

Note

I've been thinking that the fandom ignores Blitzo being bought as Stolas' playmate because - no real nice way to say this - they think it doesn't matter all that much?

like tweets have explicitly had the sentiment of 'stop comparing it to slavery, Blitzo had a nice time with Stolas in the end! it doesn't count as slavery unless he was beaten or miserable!'

but besides how yike-sy that take is, I suspect that there's something else underneath it: it doesn't matter to them because Stolas didn't know and is therefore not directly responsible for it (for once) & also they want to favor Stolas' view of what happened that day

they want to have the same 'adorable childhood friends' trope stapled onto the ship just like Viv did and nothing else matters.

if the show was handling this with any realism it would have the subject come up again and it would have Blitzo brutally dress down Stolas for acting like this One Special Day made them Special Friends Forever when Blitzo was bought to be there, didn't want to be there and was expected to risk his life stealing because of pressure from his father while he was there. (And for good measure he should point out his real childhood friend who he adores is Fizz - the show has still done little to convince me he hasn't been in unrequited love with Fizz for most of this time)

but what's clearly another indication of the class difference and how even as a child Stolas could benefit from imps being objects used to serve him (his butler who literally dresses him in the opening seconds) or play with him (Blitzo) is likely to go forgotten by the show because absolutely nothing can ruin Stolas' unrealistic fantasy of what his relationship with Blitzo actually is. Or worse, if it comes up at all the show will fixate on Stolas being heartbroken that his 'first real friend' wasn't his friend and didn't even like him at all

Then they'll show no sympathy to the child who was dragged away from his real childhood friend who he actually liked spending time with, was bored when he got there since he obviously can't relate to a rich royal owl and was forced to risk his neck stealing to help his mother, who was implied to maybe be ill or something?

tl:dr but I guess what I'm gettting at here is that the fandom is treating Blitzo just like an object or prop for Stolas to have - basically the same as the show is now. Which I guess makes sense, you get the fanbase you actively try to foster.

Oh, without question. Viv's gotten exactly the fandom she wants -- at least among the diehard stans -- and what she wants is a fandom that views Blitzo the same way she does, as a prop and a means of bringing her self-insert pleasure. He's a thing Stolas "deserves for being such a nice guy," nothing more and nothing less, and his own needs and desires are meaningless.

#Anonymous #stolitz critical #vivziepop critical #vivziepop fandom #viv stuff #actual blog post

47 notes · View notes

anew-flame · 15 days ago

Text

Tag Game: Make your OCs with this picrew!

Thank you for the tags, @charmedcleric and @reading-non-stop! I love these and loved reading about your OCs 🥰

I have to admit I have not done a DAO or DA2 playthrough yet… but I am working on 3 simultaneous playthroughs of DAI with 3 different inquisitors, if that counts! These will be the ones I bring to my future Veilguard playthroughs.

Ghilan’Vhenaste Lavellan - if I did Elvhen right, his name means “guiding our people’s favor,” which I thought was fitting for what I have planned for him. But you can just call him Ghil! He was heavily inspired by Ameridan, the quote: "history doesn't repeat, but it does rhyme," and my need to romance Cassandra. He's a history nerd, and lucked out on being his clan's First.

As the story progresses, he's realizing that both the Dalish and the Chantry got some things very wrong, both about the world and each other. He believes that if he can find the real truth, he can use it to foster peace and understanding between humans, elves, and other races. He's very open-minded, and honestly comes around to believing he really could be the Herald of Andraste, and maybe the Maker as the Chantry knows it does exist. Perhaps the truth of world is found between both sides. He just wants to find answers, and to help, in that order.

Personality-wise he is open-minded and laid-back, but can't resist an awful joke or pun just to make Cass grumble. He's becoming a Knight Enchanter as it perfectly ties together his Dalish roots with his burgeoning Andrastrian faith.

Ede'Emal Lavellan - My fiery, angry girl. And again, if I did Elvhen correctly, stands for "Emerald Child." She is also a Knight Enchanter mage, but I'm doing it a little differently on this one. Originally she was created to be my Solasmancer, which was inspired by how the Emerald Knights had wolf companions. And there is no specialization close to Emerald Knight, but Knight Enchanter does have roots with Arcane Warrior, so that's where I went. She also has the Blade of Tidarion, because magic sword and it sounds Emerald Knight-y to me.

Unlike Ghil, Ede is very proudly Dalish and honestly has a chip on her shoulder about it. She took being her clan's First very seriously, and holds dearly her Dalish identity. She is always expecting the shem to treat her poorly, and is often surprised when that doesn't happen. She's kind and compassionate, but she's not nice about it. She's slow to trust humans and quick to put down the Chantry at any opportunity. She really, really did not want to be Inquisitor and hates even more being the new symbol of Andrastrian faith.

She is romancing Solas, but it's going to be a very, very slow burn. She did not take kindly to his view on the Dalish, nor did he take kindly to her stubbornness with her "incorrect" beliefs. Despite their disagreements, and her cracking his egghead after a very heated argument, she's learning to cool her temper and play nice and open her heart (and mind) to learning something new.

Cirice Trevelyan - yes, her name was inspired by The Ghost song. She is my Devout Andrastian warrior, who is just trying her best to serve the Chantry. She believes she was chosen to be Andraste's Herald, and wants to serve the purpose she was called to do. But, she isn't quite sure how to rectify it when the Chantry is in direct conflict with the Inquisition.

Honestly she is still in development, so I don't have as much to say about her. She is a very serious, contemplative personality who just wants to do what she thinks is right, by the Chantry's standards. She hopes that she was chosen to help spread the Chant and bring the Maker back to his creations. Unfortunately, this will lead her to make some very hard, and sometimes very harsh, decisions. She is doing her best, but my poor girl was made to suffer for it.

***

No pressure tags for: @lunastarhawk @sweetjulieapples @captianvanhiraeth @nerdmomma14 @skinwalkingxana @beardedladyqueen @seffie-jade @silhalei @animezinglife and anyone who sees this and wants an excuse to join in. Tag me, I want to see!

#tag games #OC: ghilan’vhenaste lavellan #OC: ede’emal lavellan #OC: Cirice Trevelyan #dragon age inquisition #dragon age #<- sorry my tags are also the main tags whoops #picrew #beloved mutuals

17 notes · View notes

jpmarvel90 · 1 year ago

Text

Don't let me down - Part 4

Masterlist Scarlett Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Relationship: MamaScarlett x 16 yr old Reader

Summary: Officially fostered by Scarlett and Colin, Y/n now faces meeting her siblings.

Word count: 5134

Y/n's POV:

I've been living with Scarlett and Colin for 6 days now. It's been ok. I think the weirdest thing is getting used to someone actually caring where I am and what I'm doing. They haven't been smothering me, but they like me to check in if I've gone out without them. When I get home, there's always a fuss made. I'm not sure if that's normal in most families, but my adoptive parents couldn't have cared less if I made it home or not.

I'm still trying to get used to this new life, but I think I'm settling ok. I like my room, although it's a little bare, it's my safe space. Both Scarlett and Colin are really respectful to that. They understand sometimes that I get overwhelmed and need space. Scarlett has promised me a shopping trip so I can decorate my room and buy some more clothes. I will actually be grateful for some new clothes. I don't have many and they're a little tatty.

Having settled in, I head back to school on Monday and I'm excited to get back into soccer practice and seeing Laura daily. But before then, I have one last thing to deal with. Meeting my siblings.

Rose and Cosmo have had an extended stay with Melanie, our grandmother. Scarlett had told me that she wanted me to be able to settle in properly first before the mayhem of having a 7 year old and an almost 1 year old, hit. I'm really nervous about meeting them. Cosmo not so much as he's just a baby and has no concept of what's going on. Rose on the other hand, terrifies me. Not that I'm scared of a 7 year old. But what if she doesn't want me to be living with them or is unhappy with this whole situation. Scarlett will pick her over me and then what will that mean? Will I be moved to another home?

I try and shake those feelings off as I hear Scarlett calling up to me to let me know that they are home. I take a deep breath and head downstairs to see Colin cooing over Cosmo, who I must admit is the cutest little baby. Scarlett is helping Rose take her shoes off and I can't believe how much of a mini me Rose is to Scarlett.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs Scarlett's eyes find my nervous ones. "Hi Sweetheart." She greets me whilst the wriggling 7 year old suddenly stops at the addition of a new person in the room. "Who's that?" Rose asks pointing at me. "How about we go in the living room, and we'll explain everything." Scarlett suggests.

I follow in behind them and suddenly become very aware of all the photos of them as a family around the place. I take a seat on the chair away from them as they make themselves comfortable on the sofa opposite. Colin holds Cosmo as he rests his head on his shoulder, clearly content in his father's arms. "Rose, I'd like you to meet Y/n." Scarlett introduces us.

I give Rose a little wave, never feeling more nervous under a child's gaze before. "Y/n is my daughter. When I gave birth to her, I made a bad decision and thought that it would be best that she lived with someone else that could care for her." She explains to the young girl, whose eyes don't leave me. Scarlett explains a bit more about the situation, obviously missing out the parts of the abuse.

"She's my sister?" Rose asks after Scarlett finishes explaining. "Yes, she is." Scarlett replies with a smile. "Is she living with us now?" Rose questions further. "Yes. Her room is opposite yours." Scarlett replies once again. "But that's the guest room." Rose points out. "Well, it's Y/n's room now. We have other guest rooms for when people visit." Scarlett clarifies, making Rose's face scrunch up a little.

I can see a hint of tension in Scarlett. I think she's as nervous as I am that Rose isn't going to like me. That would certainly put her in a difficult position if one daughter doesn't like the other!

"How old are you?" She asks me directly. "I'm 16." I respond and she nods. "That's old to be a sister. I'm only 6 years older than Cosmo. You're a lot older than me." She replies, clearly not too happy about this situation. "Honey, that's because I had Y/n when I was much younger." Scarlett replies for me. "Hmm. Ok." She responds, clearly accepting the situation, but not too happy about it. "You can't steal my toys." She tells me firmly. "Rose, we share in this house." Scarlett scolds her. "It's ok Rose. Your toys are safe." I jump in, getting a triumphant smile from the kid.

"Can I go play now?" Rose asks, clearly bored of this situation. "After you've done your homework yes." Scarlett tells her and she rushes off to grab her school bag. "Now the first introduction is over, this little one here is Cosmo." Colin introduces me to the baby in his arms. He indicates for me to hold out my arms and passes me Cosmo.

I hold him cautiously, scared that I'm going to hurt him. He instantly looks at me and giggles, which is infectious, making me smile widely. "Wow." Scarlett says in awe. I look up briefly to her to see them both sat shocked. "He's never taken to a stranger like that before." Scarlett points out. I try not to let the word stranger hurt, but there's a sting to it. But that is what I am to them all. I'm a stranger to this family.

"He must be able to sense that you are someone that means a lot to him." Colin smiles at us, grabbing his phone and taking a photo of the two of us. "Oh, this is so going to be my new lock screen." He coos over the picture, showing it to Scarlett.

My attention remains on the baby in my arms. He is pretty cute and clearly happier that I'm here than his sister. "Mommy!" Rose calls out to Scarlett before rushing into the living room. "Can you help me with my homework?" She asks, holding up the workbook in her hand. "Of course, sweetie. Take it to the table and I'll go through it with you." She responds happily.

I watch as the two of them head off and get to work. I look down at Cosmo and he's pulling a face. "I think he might be hungry." I point out and Colin takes a look and smiles at me. "You're right. I'll take him and get a bottle for him." He says, taking Cosmo from my arms.

From my seat, I can see Colin bouncing Cosmo in his arms pulling faces and singing silly songs to him, drawing out the cutest giggles. Scarlett's eyes often drift over to the father/son due, a content smile on her face. When I look to her and Rose, she is helping her through some maths homework. Giving her encouragement when she gets something right and showing her how to work things out when she's unsure.

I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I don't fit in here. I'm seeing a life that I could have had, but Scarlett decided she didn't want with me. What is it about Rose that made her want to keep her. What does she have that I didn't. I can't believe that I'm sat here jealous of a 7 year old but I am, and I can't stop it.

I can't stop seeing the life that I could have had but didn't get. I didn't have anyone to help me work out my homework or to sing songs to me. God, forbid I sang too loudly in the house, or I'd be hit. I learnt to keep quiet after a while.

The tears start to build behind my eyes and I don't want them to see me vulnerable like this. I quickly stand up and grab my phone. "I'm going for a walk. I'll be back later." I rush out, hoping my voice doesn't crack as I talk. I feel like the walls are closing in on me here and I need to get out.

I barely hear Scarlett or Colin call after me as I quickly make my way out of the front door and towards the closest park that I can get to. When I reach the small lake, I stand next to it, my hands running through my hair. I take a few deep breaths to help calm me down and sit down in the grass. I pull my legs up to my chest and rest my chin on them as I look out over the water and let the tears fall.

I consider calling Laura, but I've been bothering her so much recently, she can go a day without having to deal with my shit. I'll end up driving her away if all I ever bring along with me is drama. This makes my feelings become overwhelming. Do I belong anywhere? How is it I'm in the safest place I've ever been, but I've never been more unsure of my life.

Scarlett's POV:

Having Y/n living with us and knowing that she has chosen to stay with us has been amazing. Each day I feel like our relationship is growing and that I'm getting closer to having a more positive relationship with her. She's still quite closed off, but I don't want to push her to talk with me until she's ready.

I plan to do everything that I can to show Y/n that she belongs in this family and is loved. Hopefully, she'll be able to see the truth in it and eventually allow me to adopt her so I can legally be her mother again. I mean, I definitely see her as my daughter and that I'm her mother regardless of the legality of it all. But I know it'll take a little longer for Y/n to be in that same space.

I was nervous to have all my kids meet each other. Excited, but nervous. Mainly for how Rose would react. I never told Rose about Y/n, worried that she wouldn't understand the situation. But when we sat down all together, I couldn't help the happiness that grew within me at knowing I had all three of my kids together with me again. All living together under one roof.

Rose definitely seems a little sceptical. She's only just gotten used to having Cosmo around and taking up a lot of our attention. Now Y/n is here, I'm sure she's worried that she might miss out on more attention through that.

I can't lie that I feel a little disappointed that Rose wasn't more excited to meet Y/n. But she didn't outright throw a tantrum that she was now living with us and a big part of our lives. So, it's a start. I'm sure once they spend time together, they'll love each other.

I couldn't help the way my heart melted when Y/n held Cosmo and he melted into her touch. Normally, he struggles with people that aren't Colin or me. It took a long time for mom to be able to calm him down. But with Y/n he was instantly content, like he knew this was his big sister and she would protect him.

Y/n had a genuine smile on her face the whole time she was looking at him. She was a natural in the way that she held him, and I would never tire of this scene. I'm even a little jealous when Colin snaps the cutest picture of them. I will definitely be making him send that to me later.

When Rose asked for help with her homework, I thought this would be a good opportunity to lead to a conversation with her about Y/n afterwards. It'll be good to discuss it further and help her understand why we need to be welcoming to Y/n and help her feel like this is her home too.

But I don't get the chance to get to that conversation when I hear Y/n call out that she's going to the park. By the time I'm out of my seat, she's rushing to get her shoes on at the door. "Honey, is everything ok?" I ask after her, the crack in her voice was evident as she talked, and it worried me. She didn't answer my question, instead promising to be back later.

Before I know it, she's out of the door and gone. What happened? Everything seemed ok just a few minutes ago. Did she get a text or something? I go to follow after her through the door, but Colin stops me, gently grabbing my arm to gain my attention. "Give her some time." He tells me, tugging me slightly into the kitchen.

"She's just rushed out to God knows where in a place she doesn't really know Colin. I'm not just going to leave her when she's clearly distressed." I defend a little loudly, disturbing the baby in his arms. He shushes Cosmo and walks him over to his playmat before returning to me.

"I understand that. But you need to trust her. She's just met her siblings. The two children that you decided to keep. That's going to take a bit to process." He tells me. I feel a little annoyed at the way her worded it, but I understand, and I know he's right. "We both kind of naturally fell into our routine with Rose and Cosmo as she was sat in the living room. She was probably watching on and thinking about the life she could have had." He guesses. God, how can I be so stupid to not see that.

I let out a sigh, frustrated in myself for once again making her feel like she doesn't belong. "I just feel like I'm doing this all wrong. I want her to know that she fits in here and that she's wanted." I express, fighting back tears. "There isn't exactly a manual on how to integrate your daughter into your family after 16 years." Colin chuckles, trying to lighten the situation, but it doesn't really help.

"Maybe what we're doing wrong is wanting her to 'fit in' here. She shouldn't need to change for us. Now we have Rose and Cosmo back with us, we need to make the effort that Y/n is included and also the priority at times. I know that's going to be difficult with a baby and a demanding 7 year old. But we can do this. It's not going to be easy or quick, but we just want what is best for Y/n. She'll see that." Colin speaks so wisely that it makes me smile. "I'm so lucky to have you." I tell him, pulling him into me and nuzzling my head into his neck.

"You're still not going to listen to me and leave her be, are you?" He asks me and I shake my head. "Not a chance. But I'll give her 15 minutes." I respond, earning a chuckle from him. Instead of rushing out the door after Y/n like I so desperately want to, I make my way back into the dining room where Rose is finishing her homework.

I take a seat next to her and she smiles when she sees I've returned. "How do you feel about Y/n living with us sweetie?" I ask her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She shrugs her shoulders and focuses on the task of putting her pens away. "Y/n could really do with a younger sister that wants to play with her and spend time with her." I say, hoping that she might open up. "But she's old." Rose replies. "She's not that old and I'm sure she will enjoy spending time with you if you give her a chance." I persist.

Rose thinks for a moment before looking at me. "She seems sad." She points out. Rose has always been very empathetic. She can read people's emotions as well as an adult sometimes. "That's because she's been through a lot of not very nice things. On top of that, she's having to get used to living with a whole new group of people. Could you imagine having to go and live with someone else?" I try and get her to think of herself in that position. "No. I would miss you all too much and wouldn't know if the other people love me." She replies.

"Exactly. But in this case, we love Y/n very much. Just because she hasn't been in our lives, doesn't mean that we don't love her and want her to be with us." I explain and she nods slowly. "She must be feeling lonely not really knowing us." Rose thinks aloud. "Then maybe we can make sure she gets to know us, and we get to know her. We can find out things she likes and do them with her. Like soccer. She loves soccer." I suggest causing Rose's face lights up.

"I love soccer too! Do you think she'll play with me?" She excitedly asks. "I'm sure she would. She could help teach you. She plays for her school team." I tell her and she gets even more excited by that. "Oh! Please can we go and watch her play? We can cheer her on. That will make her happy!" Rose asks and I love that idea. "Definitely, I'll ask her when her next game is, and we'll go." I respond and suddenly Rose is running off to her colouring box. "I'm going to draw her a picture of us playing soccer together!" She tells me excitedly, grabbing out the pens that she's going to need.

Happy that Rose is understanding the situation better, I make my way to the closet to grab my shoes. "I'm going to try and find her." I tell Colin, who's finishing feeding Cosmo. "Ok. Call if you need anything." He tells me, placing a kiss to my head. "Will do. Wish me luck!" I say, heading out through the front door.

I'm not exactly sure where to start. She's not overly familiar with the area here. But she has been to the park nearby. I'd imagine she's probably gone there and called Laura to talk. That'll be my first stop.

The park is a short walk away and I'm grateful it's a warm day as Y/n left without a jacket. I start to look around the park, my hope dwindling when I don't see her sat at any of the benches. But my eyes suddenly land on a small figure by the water. I see Y/n sat with her chin resting on her knees. Her eyes red from crying. It breaks my heart to see her like that and it hurts even more to know that it's all because of me.

I slowly walk over to her and take a seat next to her on the grass. She doesn't move or acknowledge my presence. "You know, when I found out I was pregnant with Rose, I had a complete breakdown. Not because I didn't want to be pregnant. Romain and I had been trying. But because it was a reminder of the fact that I didn't have you in my life. Throughout my pregnancy, I struggled to enjoy it. I felt like I didn't deserve to be happy after giving you up. It was similar with when I had Cosmo. They both became constant reminders of the biggest mistake I had ever made." I start talking, knowing that she certainly wouldn't.

"When I first held Rose, I thought about how much she looked like you. She has the same button nose as you. It became my favourite thing about her because if was a reminder of you. I had memorised every inch of your face in the short time I had you when you were born. I will never forget it. I would try and picture what you would look like at different ages." I continue to share my thoughts with her.

"With Cosmo, you have the same eyes. Piercing blue ones. I know that isn't what you got from me. But it made me happy. I thought that if I was ever lucky enough to have you in my life that you would have something to link you to Colin. He would always talk like you were his own daughter even though he had never met you." This seemed to catch her attention a little and she turned her head, so her cheek is resting on her knee and those blue eyes are looking up at me.

I give her a smile, grateful that she seems to be engaging. "I can't take back that I put you up for adoption. I tried many times. But I want to try to make it up to you now. I'm sure that when you look at Rose and Cosmo, you see the kids I decided to keep. I don't blame you for that. But know that I see them as the children that showed me what I was missing and so desperately wanted in my life." I try to convey how much she truly means to me. "You may have only known me for a little over a week. But I have loved you with every fibre of my being for 16 years." I choke out, the emotion taking over me.

Y/n's own eyes gloss over at my admission, and she wipes her cheek against her knee. "I'll never forgive myself for not keeping you. Giving you the life that you deserve. That's even harder to accept when I know the hell that you have been made to go through. I hope that now you're with us, that you have the best life possible. I will do everything in my power to make sure that you get what you want in life. It's going to take some adjustment from all of us, but I promise that you, my beautiful daughter, belong in our family." I tell her firmly as the tears slowly fall.

I wipe at my face and watch her intently as she takes in everything that I said. She slowly sits back so her body isn't so enclosed and looks back over the lake. "My parents weren't always horrible." She speaks and I'm shocked at the subject she's leading with. But I'm happy that she's talking. "I remember when I was small, we used to go to the park a lot and they would play games with me. I don't know what changed but when I was about 5 or 6, they started to treat me differently. Something must have happened, but I'll never know what. I just became used to being a burden." She admits and it breaks my heart.

"When did they start hurting you?" I take a risk in asking her the question. I won't push her to answer, but I hope that she feels comfortable in talking with me. "The first time I remember was when I was 8. I was playing with a ball, and it cracked a window. Mom ran outside screaming at me and the next thing I knew my cheek was stinging. She didn't seem apologetic at all that she had just slapped me." She replies and my breath hitches at the fact that she has spent 8 years being abused.

"Its just got worse over time. Any time I annoyed them, it was met with a slap, a punch, or a kick. When they started drinking it just became worse. I would try my best to just be quiet in my room to not annoy them. But sometimes my mere presence was enough to set them off." I can't hide the tears as she shares the abuse that she went through. How can anyone hurt a child like that.

"Is it bad that I felt relief when they died?" She turns to ask me, almost ashamed of the thought. "No, my sweet girl. It's not at all. It's a completely understandable feeling to have." I reassure her. I don't admit to her that I hoped it was painful as I think that would just be disrespectful, but they got away with hurting my daughter for years.

"Was Mr Woodstock abusive straightaway?" I ask cautiously. "No actually he wasn't. He hadn't long been a foster carer when he opened his home. I was his 4th kid. He kind of just left us to it. There was food in the fridge and chores we had to do but otherwise we could do as we pleased. It was then I joined soccer and started to make friends at school. It was nice." She smiles sadly, as she remembers the small amount of respite, she had from being hurt.

"My social worker would bring more kids to him and suddenly there were 14 of us and his four bed house wasn't big enough. He drank more and got angry with us more easily. I was grateful for soccer and Laura as it meant I could minimise the time I was at the home and at risk of being on the end of his anger." She continues to shine a light on the life she has experienced.

"How badly he hurt you last week, was that often?" I question, praying that it wasn't. Her bruises are starting to fade, and her black eye is now yellow. But it's a constant remind of what she went through. "No, that was because I made him look bad in front of lawyer. Normally he just kept to a punch here or there." She responds as if that's completely normal.

I tentatively reach out and take her hand. "None of what you went through was ok. I know that it's going to take time for you to come to terms with everything. But you have me and Colin with you through it all." I make sure she can see that I mean every word that I'm saying.

She sighs a little and looks to me once more. "I guess that I'm hypervigilant all of the time at the moment. Although it was horrible in the home, I knew the dangers. Now I feel like I'm suddenly in a spiral with no idea what could hurt me." She sniffles as she let's her emotions flow.

I scootch over to her and cautiously wrap my arm around her shoulder. She leans into me, and it makes my heart melt. "I will never hurt you. I will protect you as will Colin and the rest of the family." I speak with a firm tone. I mean it. I will do whatever it takes to make sure that she is safe.

There's a silence for a moment whilst she allows me to comfort her. "Speaking of the rest of the family. I guess I still have some more people to meet." She says with a small smile, wiping at her eyes. "Yeah, mom is desperate to see you, as are my siblings." I chuckle in response. "Maybe we could do a dinner next weekend with them all and we can do it all in one go." I suggest. She thinks for a moment and then nods. "That'll be nice." She returns. "Perfect. They're going to love you." I tell her, nudging her shoulder.

"Are you ok to head home, or would you like to stay out for a bit longer?" I ask her, not wanting her to feel like she has to do as I say in this moment. "We can go back." She responds, standing and holding her hand out to me, helping me to my feet. We start walking back towards the house and another question pops in my head. "How come you didn't call Laura?" I ask her and I see her tense slightly.

"Uh. Well, she's had to put up with a lot of my shit recently. I thought she deserved a day off." She chuckles awkwardly. I stop moving and turn to her. "Firstly, language." I tell her and she rolls her eyes. Wow, ok that was like looking in a mirror. "Secondly, it's not your shit. You've been through a lot. And thirdly, from the little I know about Laura, I think she would be upset that you didn't feel like you could talk to her." I finish summarising. She hums a little and grabs out her phone to see lots of missed calls and texts from Laura. I chuckle to myself when I read the latest text of Y/n's shoulder

Laura ♥ I'm hoping you're not replying because it's going really well, and I don't need to kick someone's ass. Call me when you can. I want to hear all about it.

"See, I told you." I smirk, nudging her shoulder as she goes to text back. When we get home, Colin is already making dinner with Cosmo in his highchair. "Hi you two." He greets us both. Coming straight over to engulf me in a hug, one that I fall into. "Sorry for running out earlier Colin." Y/n apologises, rubbing at the back of her neck as she speaks. "Nothing to apologise for kiddo. Are you ok? That's all that matters." He reassures her. "I think I will be." She smiles in return.

The calmness doesn't last long before Rose rushes in. "Sissy! Can we play soccer? Look I drew you a picture of us playing!" She asks, excitedly handing over the piece of paper that has two figures playing soccer. And with that, I'm pretty sure that my heart just burst with happiness at hearing her call Y/n that. Y/n looks just as shocked as her eyes gloss over. "Wow what a great picture Rose. I'd love to play with you." Y/n responds after gathering herself. "Come on then!" Rose shouts, taking Y/n's hand and dragging her out to the back yard.

I watch the two of them playing through the kitchen window. Colin wraps his arms around me and rests his chin to watch the two of them playing too. It's a moment I never thought I would get to see, and it brings more tears to my eyes. In this moment, I'm watching Y/n be so carefree and taking the time to show Rose what she needs to do. I want to remember this moment and feeling forever. "I think things are going to be ok." He tells me and I for the first time in over a week. I actually believe him.

Part 5

#scarlett johansson x y/n #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson fanfiction #scarlett johansson #celebrity fanfic

117 notes · View notes

spicerackofblorbos · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter 4: February

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!mute!Reader (she/her pronouns), set in a modern semi-fictional world

☾ Summary ➼ Due to childhood trauma, you find yourself an adult without the ability to speak. After years of working on it, you have found ways to live without a voice. Now here in your late 20s, you are 5 months in getting used to a new town. On a fateful day in late November, you and your adopted sister visit a local bookstore-café, unaware of the friendships about to blossom. Throughout the months, one friendship in particular develops into something more.

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, oblivious feelings, angst, mention of minor character deaths, trauma, illness, adoption, mentions of fire, disabilities, alcohol use, very light nsfw mentions, references to child abuse (to be continued as writing is ongoing)

☾ Author's note ➼ Hey guys! Happy (early) Valentine's Day! This would have been out much earlier but I figured since it's February, I would actually release it near the holiday the chapter is actually about. I'm so excited to finally release this into the wild! I'm in the process of working on March but I might take a break to work on some fluffy drabbles/one-shots because tis the season! I'll be back soon with more!

☾ Word Count ➼ ~8.5k (this one is even longer and I'm not even sorry about it)

Your bedroom floor is littered with piles of the clothes you spent the last hour trying on then discarding out of dissatisfaction. You and Hange were expecting company soon and you were standing in just your undergarments while staring into your almost empty closet in disdain. It felt as if you were 17 again, freaking out the morning before a school day because you were not comfortable with any of the fabrics in your wardrobe. You throw your hands up in the air and exhale loudly, thinking to yourself of how hopeless this endeavor was.

With people coming over, you wanted to try and dress up a bit. But in frustration, you opt for your usual wear of jeans and a baggy pullover sweater. Pulling your hair up in two little buns, you just grunt in acceptance. At least you were comfortable, which is the most important factor here. After slipping on a mismatched pair of socks, you pad back into the living room where Hange sat on the floor milling around on her work laptop.

‘Working again?’ You sign at them while passing them to the kitchen. You open a cupboard for a can of black tea. You were told Levi was coming over for the get together and you wanted to make sure there was tea ready. For everyone, of course, not just Levi. Or so you keep telling yourself.

“Just finishing up a couple documents is all. Did you make sure that we had the ingredients for the cookies today?” They mumble from behind the screen, their fingers zooming over the keyboard as they speak. Their eyes flick up at you as you sign a quick yes and they nod in response, shoving their face back into their reports.

You make quick work of the electric tea kettle, pushing the button to get the water boiling before tossing in a couple teaspoons of loose leaves in your favorite teapot. It was a gift from your foster-parents many years ago and it had golden bunnies hopping around on a light teal background. After the kettle shuts itself off, you pour the water into the teapot to steep then place the lid on top gently.

You then set forth to make sure your wipe-off board had fully stocked markers for tonight, placing them on the kitchen bar for you to reach easily. Texting might be faster, but a wipe-off board served better with a crowd of people so everyone could see what you were saying. When you’re satisfied with everything, you then turn to Hange.

It was past two in the afternoon, and they were still in their pajamas with a rat’s nest in place of their hair. Company was due soon and she was still tapping away, so you go up behind them and place your hands on their shoulders gently. She hums in response, not turning to you. You lean forward and place a hand on the laptop, and she stops. They cock their head up to look at you and their glasses glint off the afternoon sun coming through the dining room window. You furrow your brows at them and scrunch your nose.

“Can I help you?” She asks. Nodding, you release your hands to sign to her.

‘You need a shower.’ She purses her lips and averts her gaze.

“I have time, let me just finish this report first.”

‘No, shower first and then come back to this.’

“But-” You cut them off by pinching her cheek, not hard enough to bruise but enough to leave a mark.

‘Don’t make me throw you in the bath, you know I’ll do it.’ You smirk while raising an eyebrow at them. You’re met with an eyeroll, but she saves her work before shutting her laptop anyways. You kiss her forehead from above and then move back so they can stand up.

‘Thanks, don’t forget to wash your ass.’ You laugh silently and she just gives you a disgusted look before heading into her room, laptop under her arm. She flips you a bird before disappearing behind her door. You grin at yourself and then head back to the kitchen to set out some butter to soften.

For Valentine’s Day this year, Hange decided to throw a little party at your shared apartment. You just wanted to bake and watch stupid movies together, but they talked you into socializing. She had said something about today not being just for couples. She wanted to “celebrate singleness”, her words not yours. So of course, you were roped in because honestly, where else would you have to be? But that also meant she had invited quite a few people as well; a few coworkers and Erwin. And with Erwin, the invitation had spread to Miche and Levi. The latter of which you were excited for, no matter how much you told yourself it wasn’t such a big deal.

You smile at how close you and Levi had gotten in the past couple weeks, getting to know each other a little more as the days passed. It mainly consisted of texting each other little things you thought you’d both like or little hangouts at the café after hours. The café meetings were not anything new, of course, but they had a vastly different atmosphere than before. You chalk it up to the friendlier nature and usage of more words around each other.

You preoccupy yourself by pulling out the rest of the necessary ingredients and dishes needed for your baking adventure. One of the compromises Hange had made with you was the allowance of being able to still make your checkerboard cookies regardless of the plans. It was something you had picked up in the last couple years and it quickly became one of your favorite traditions. Hange did not refuse, which you think is mainly because she loved your baked goods and was looking forward to shoving them in her mouth. With that thought, you pull out another stick of butter to make a double batch just in case.

After a while, you place your hands on your hips and nod your head in satisfaction. Your ears pick up the sound of squeaking floorboards coming from Hange’s bedroom which signaled that she had finished bathing. Another noise comes from the front door with someone rapping on the hardwood. When you glance at the clock on the stove, it reads 2:47. Someone was a little early, you think to yourself as you saunter up to the door.

Pulling it open, you’re met with a smiling Erwin holding a small bundle of flowers and a bottle of wine. Miche flanks him with a box of canned beer under one arm, his other out to give you a hug which you run into instantly, making sure to do the same with Erwin. In the last month since their dinner party, it wasn’t just Levi you had gotten close to.

While you were already pretty comfortable with Erwin through your sister, Miche was a confidant you hadn’t expected to have. Throughout the passing days, you found that he was as technologically competent as he was as good of a chef. When he wasn’t behind a computer screen, he was often found sending you obscure recipes through late night text messages that he wanted to try with you.

‘I’m so glad you two could make it!’ You sign to them ecstatically, breaking out into a grin.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Erwin chirps as he winks down at you.

Taking a step back, you lead them through the door with your hand. You peep a quick glance behind them to make sure there was no one else coming. To your disappointment, there wasn’t. You shut the door behind the two men with a sigh. Hange must have talked to them beforehand about the apartment rules because they were quick to pull their shoes off at the door before walking more into the apartment.

You follow them into the living room as you check your phone. No new messages. You had sent Levi a text earlier this morning to see if he was planning to make it, but he had not responded. So, when Erwin places the flowers and wine down on the kitchen counter, you step up next to him to get his attention.

‘Thank you so much for bringing these.’ You hesitate for a moment as he looks down at you patiently. ‘Is Levi still coming?’ You stare up into his bright eyes, his lips twitching in amusement at your question.

“Yes, he is just running a little behind. He had a stop to make before making his way here.” He pats your head and you just blush. But you feel immensely better, knowing that Levi was coming for certain. To not waste the tea you’ve made, of course, you remind yourself. You grab the bouquet of flowers and take a big whiff of them, relishing the sweet scent.

Bending down into a counter beneath you, you grab a vase and get to work trimming the stems so you can place it on the dinner table. Miche is quick to place a couple of his beers in the fridge along with the wine Erwin brought so they would be cold for later.

‘What kind of beer did you bring?’ You sign towards Miche, Erwin translating for you.

“Oh, definitely not something you would like, even if you did drink. I saw it at the store and had to try it though. There’s peanut butter in it apparently.” Miche tilts his head towards the fridge. You make a grimace at him, and he chuckles.

“Hange had said to BYOB but I can’t imagine just having beer would be great, so I elected for something sweeter.” Erwin furrows his eyebrows at the very idea.

‘You do know BYOB doesn’t just mean beer, right? It’s just a figure of speech.’

“Wait, really?”

Just then, Hange comes out sporting a towel wrapped on their head as well as a t-shirt and jeans. They chose to go for the comfortable yet casual look too. She grins widely at the new company and runs to give them both a big hug as well.

“You guys made it!” She shrieks.

“We told you we would.” Erwin’s deep timbre responds back nonchalantly.

“Yeah yeah, but I still worried I ran you off with how much I talked about it. We’re going to have so much fun today!” Hange starts chattering away about the plans she had made for everyone. You giggle to yourself as you listen to them talk excitedly.

Since you weren’t one for alcohol, you always ended up as the mom for everyone, doubly so for your sister. She may be 5 years older than you, but you always felt like more of the responsible one. You didn’t mind it though. You figured it was a good payoff for everything else she does for you on a daily basis. Suddenly, another knock from the front door echoes down the hall and you’re quick to throw the metal bowl you just grabbed from the shelf down onto the counter before running to see who it is.

Much to your dismay, it’s not Levi. When you pull open the door, you see three people; Moblit Berner being one of them, whom you have seen many times since your move here. Hange’s coworkers are all carrying their own vice for tonight in their arms.

You give them a small smile in welcome and Moblit offers a friendly one in return. The two companions behind him consist of Nanaba, someone you have only met twice in passing, and another man, someone you have never seen before. You eyeball him apprehensively as you wave to Nanaba in hello, to which she does the same in response.

“Oh yeah, Onyankopon,” Moblit turns his head over his shoulder to refer to the man. “This is Hange’s little sister.” He says kindly. You wave at the stranger, still wary. The man named Onyankopon is very tall and broad chested with a crew cut that faded up his head. He gives you a big smile that warms up his entire face and speaks to you in a velvety tone.

“It’s nice to officially meet you. You know, your sister talks a lot about you.” His chocolate eyes are even warmer than his demeanor, and you can’t help but grin back at him with a blush, deciding he was okay. You side-step so they can funnel into the door. Your eyes linger down the hallway without meaning to, hoping to see a raven-haired man stalking up to the door. But it remained empty, so you shut it with another sigh and turn back to the ever-growing crowded apartment.

The company sat in various places in the living room while idle chatter filled the space. Some even opted for the floor, Hange being one of them. After a while, you had to remind your sister to take off the towel she had wrapped around her head because she was so engrossed in her conversation that she didn’t even notice it. It had dried for so long that her hair was even more frazzled than before. You just shook your head at her in amusement.

You make yourself busy with the cookies while everyone converses, the noise turning into buzzing. The living room was so cramped with bodies that you could barely breathe, so you found great solace in the kitchen. At this point you had donned on an apron that had floral designs vining their way to the top. It was an attempt to keep the inevitable mess from splattering on to you. While you loved to cook and bake, you were not neat about it in any capacity, but you found that to be the fun of it.

After turning the mixing bowl on to blend the sugar and butter, you turn to your now cold teapot and sigh. It had gone cold, but you hate to waste it; you decide to pour it into a sealable cup to make iced tea with it later.

You start to juggle the choices of either starting a new pot now or waiting until everyone has arrived when your ears perk up at another knock at the door. Your heart now racing at who it could be, you stare out to the living room over the half wall to see if anyone heard but no one had even turned their head. You shut off the mixer then wipe your hands on your apron as you make your way to the door. Taking a deep breath, you pull it open effortlessly.

You can’t keep your face from breaking out into a grin when your eyes fall on the short man with a deadpan expression standing in front of you. Levi. Furlan is there as well, waving at you from behind his friend. You mouth a ‘Hi’ to them both, barely containing the giddiness from the present company.

“Sorry we’re late. Not only did this jerk decide he was tagging along, but he also spent an ungodly amount of time getting ready.” Levi’s gruff voice speaks out to you as he tips his head to Furlan. You meet his soft gaze, and he winks playfully. Levi was wearing a snug, black long sleeve with even darker denim jeans. Your stomach flips as you force yourself to stare into Levi’s metallic eyes.

Waving them in the door, they follow suit and take their shoes off to place next to the pile already sitting by the door. Levi scoffs, no doubt annoyed by the messiness. You’re suddenly hyper aware of how dirty the apartment must look compared to his. After shutting the door behind them, you spin around and almost run right into Levi. You gasp in surprise and step back right into the door with a ‘thud’. Furlan was long gone, and you can hear his playful voice reverberating down the hall as he introduced himself to the rest of the company.

“Are you okay?” Levi asks, concern lacing into his deep voice. You laugh at yourself silently as he eyes you carefully. You nod and wave your hands dismissively at him to show you were indeed okay.

“Mm. I bought these for tonight. Where can I put them?” He shifts three large bottles of various sodas in his arms in awkwardness. His eyes avert from you as he speaks. You stare stunned for a moment as you realize he must have bought them specifically for you. Noticing you haven’t moved, his eyes shift back up to you with an eyebrow raised. Cracking a smile, you nod. The flips in your stomach hardly cease as you tip your head forward to signify where the kitchen was, passing him as well to lead the way.

After he places the bottles in the fridge, he closes the doors, and his eyes widen in surprise at the mess before him. You being you, there was flour everywhere and butter wrappers lie discarded by the mixer. Said mixer was surrounded by sugar from when you missed the bowl earlier. You look away sheepishly as you feel a hard stare at your face.

“Are you a toddler?” He asks, but there is no malice. It almost sounded as if he was amused.

Grabbing one of the wipe-off boards you placed in the kitchen earlier, you pop off a cap and start scrawling. 'Maybe.' Flipping it over to him with a shrug, you see the corners of his mouth twitch.

'Tea?' You point to your cluttered tea station. Levi turns to see an open tin of tea leaves and an empty kettle. He says nothing as he gets to work, doing it all before you can do anything. You gawk at his deft hands as he makes quick work of it all, like he was back in his cafe. Some of his hair fell in his face as his head hung low in focus. After gently placing the porcelain lid back on the pot, he turns back to you.

'You didn't have to do that, you know. I was mainly asking so I could start it.'

"Tch, I was already here. Besides, I'm probably faster at it." You can't argue on that, so you just shrug your shoulders at him again with a slight smile. He leans back against the kitchen counter and studies your face, and you feel your face bloom in heat. You place the board back down on the counter and point to your mess to show you were going to start back on the cookies. Tightening your hair buns, you then wash your hands and get back to work on the mixer, throwing in the ingredients as needed.

After a moment, you hear something rustling behind you and when you glance to the source, you see Levi pulling on the other apron that hung off the fridge. You stare at him curiously and he just tightens the drawstrings behind him as he meets your gaze.

"I'm helping." You hesitate but scoot over in response, and he steps up next to you. Your arms are almost touching, and it takes everything inside of you not to combust. So, you both get to work like that, side by side. The sounds of chatter and laughter from the rest of the group fade out as you both concentrate. You hand him the rest of the ingredients and he carefully pours them in the bowl. When everything is incorporated and set aside, you then measure out the other ingredients for the chocolate portion of the cookies. You don’t see it, but Levi just watches you patiently, admiring your meticulous yet messy way of making sure everything is accurate. When you glance up at him, he looks away quickly.

"Whatcha two up to?" A sly voice rings out after a while. Startled, you both jerk your heads up from the tray you two were placing raw dough cutouts on. It's Hange, leaning on the wall with their chin cradled in two cupped hands. They have a very cheeky grin plastering their face.

"What does it look like, Four-Eyes?" Levi snaps back dryly.

"Well, since you're asking me. It looks like you two are having fun." They wiggle their eyebrows at you and Levi just scoffs and averts his gaze. Your cheeks flare up again because you were definitely having fun, but you weren’t going to admit that. Hange tuts at you two and reaches over to pat you on the head lovingly.

"I just came over because you were both ignoring our calls." Looking over their shoulder, you see Erwin eyeballing you and Levi with a raised eyebrow. He takes a sip of his drink and looks away to keep talking to Moblit and Onyankopon. Nanaba, Furlan, and Miche broke out a deck of cards and are in the middle of a game of Poker.

'Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.' You sign to her, frowning.

"No worries, we were just wondering if you guys were hungry. We were thinking of pizza!" They clap their hands excitedly. They were always thinking of pizza, you laugh to yourself. Hange loves pizza so much that even the mere mention of its cheesy goodness would summon them right then and there. Your stomach rumbles just thinking about it as well, so you nod.

"I could eat." Levi states as he lifts his teacup to his lips, three fingertips on the rim. Him doing so reminds you of the cup Levi had poured for you that you had left to get cold. You lightly touch the sides of it, and it still feels warm. As you take a sip, you’re hit with the boldness of the leaf blend you had chosen as well as a perfect amount of sweetness. ‘Levi makes the best tea’, you think to yourself.

"Perfect, I'll get those ordered. We'll just stick to the basics, yeah?" She pulls out her phone and starts dialing the nearest pizza place while walking away to join everyone in the living room. Levi picks up the couple of trays filled with raw cookies and slides them into the pre-heated oven. When he turns around, you can't help but silently chuckle as you take a closer look at his face for the first time since you both started your venture.

There is a streak of cocoa powder on his forehead that starkly contrasts on his pale skin. You point to it and your shoulders bounce in silent laughter as he brings a hand up to it to rub the spot. His eyes go wide as he notices the brown powder that is now staining his fingers. He grabs the towel you had draped over the dishwasher to wipe it away, his ears turning pink. He turns away from you as he does.

You eye Levi as he folds the towel neatly and puts it back where he got it from, huffing under his breath. He then starts gathering the dirty dishes and piles them into the sink, tugging on the faucet to rinse them off. While he's busy on that, you begin wiping down the counters with a wet rag. Levi gives you a side-eye and you meet his gaze, giving him a warm smile. He looks away again to focus on a bowl he was currently spraying with hot water. As you stare at him for a second longer, you can’t help but think how well you two worked together.

You grab the board once more and write, ‘Thank you for your help. (:’ before flipping the board over to Levi as he dries his hands on the towel. His eyes trail the words, and he glances up at you with indifference.

“Mm.” He hums. His eyes flick over to the timer that was set on the stove as he leans back against the sink and takes another sip of his tea. The cookies had eight minutes left. It almost felt as if he was reading your mind because neither of you moved with the intention leaving the calm kitchen. When you look over to the living space, you see everyone talking over each other in lively conversation. Onyankopon is pointing at the small fish tank that sat nestled in the corner of the room as he shouts over to Hange, who is in the middle of cleaning off the coffee table.

“Hange, I didn’t know you had fish.” He bends down to take a closer look at the two little fish darting around shifting plants.

“Oh yes, they’re my little babies!” She stands straight up and jumps over to the tank and continues as she points at the respective tetras. “This one is Sonny and this one is Bean!” You can’t help but chuckle internally at your over enthusiastic sister. Ever since you both moved to Jinae, Hange really wanted pets. They had requested a dog, but they were too overwhelming for you. She wasn’t really around enough to be able to spend time with them anyways which meant most of it would fall on to you and you weren’t okay with that. So, you both compromised on her getting a couple fish to start out with and would think about the notion again later. Thus far, Hange has been very content with them and hasn’t asked for anything else.

“They’re gorgeous, Hange.” Onyankopon compliments as he stares at the tank. Hange slaps him on the shoulder in appreciation and starts rambling off the reasons why she chose tetras and all the research she did on them.

“That’s it, boys. I win!” Nanaba shouts from the dining table, slamming her cards onto the hard surface. Furlan and Miche groan in frustration, the latter rubbing his face in exhaustion.

“I swear you’re cheating.” Furlan sits back in his chair as he places his own hand down.

“I second that.” Miche leans over to stare at her cards and just sighs. Dejected, he gets up and wanders towards the bathroom, almost running into Erwin as he emerges from that same direction.

“C’mon guys, at least I vetoed any betting.” She calls out, smirking as she piles the cards up and starts shuffling them.

“You just did that out of pity.” Nanaba just cackles maniacally at Furlan’s dispirited comment.

“Hange, there are too many men in here.” She twists in her chair to face your sister who turns to acknowledge Nanaba’s complaint.

“Psh, I’ll drink to that.” And she does, holding her drink up in cheers and takes a big gulp. You roll your eyes, but you agree. There were way too many men in your apartment right now. Just then, there’s a knock at the door and Hange stands up quickly, face alert like a meerkat in the African wilderness.

“Pizza!” They yell and then they’re off to the front door, a wad of cash in hand.

At the same time, the timer goes off with a soft beeping and you’re quick to grab the oven mitts to pull the trays out. You gingerly place the trays on the stovetop to let them cool and Levi reaches past you to turn off the oven, his face in your periphery as you glance to the side. His movements waft his scent straight into your nose and you find yourself breathing it in deeply. He smelled of clean laundry with a hint of body wash. It isn’t overpowering in the slightest and you revel in it.

“You two are missing out on the fun cooping up in here.” Someone speaks out behind you two as they walk through the archway to the kitchen. You both jump at the voice and turn to see Erwin holding an armful of empty alcohol containers.

“Tch, it beats being surrounded by a bunch of loud mouths.” Levi counters, turning back to the cookies to inspect them. You reach over to grab the trash can and hold it up to Erwin for him to dump the trash. Hange comes in behind him and places four stacked pizza boxes on the counter next to you. You stare at your sister in awe and sign, ‘That’s a lot of pizza.’

“I know but I didn’t know how hungry everyone was. Besides! Leftovers.” They give another cheeky grin, and you just playfully punch her arm. Reaching up in the cupboard behind you, you grab a handful of plates for everyone as well a cup for you, now realizing how parched your throat was.

“Oi, grab me one too.” Levi asks next to you, so you grab another after setting what you held down first. When you turn to hand it to him, he’s a lot closer than you expected and accidentally hit him in the side of the head with the glass in hand. He doesn’t even flinch. He’s looking up at you with knit eyebrows and a thin line in place of his lips.

“Ow.” You hear Erwin and Hange stifling laughter as they organize the pizza boxes.

You set the cup down and start signing frantically, ‘I’m sorry.’ over and over again. You place both of your hands on his face and tilt it so you could get a better look at the spot where you hit him, filled with relief when you find no visible damage. You’re in such a panic that you don’t even notice his stunned disposition. Your hands feel so warm against his cool skin, and it’s so soft. You realize what you’re doing after a moment and let your arms drop to your side, mouthing an apology and stepping away from him.

“It’s fine. I didn’t realize how long your arms were.” He mumbles as he walks over to the fridge without another word, cup in one hand, his other pressing against the spot where you smacked him. How long your arms were? That was such a weird thing to say. Flustered, you grab the plates and shuffle them over to the counter with the pizza. Now that they have opened the boxes, you get a closer look at the options.

There were a couple cheeses, one pepperoni, and one pineapple. Your eyes light up and you gaze at Hange with adoration, forgetting what just happened mere moments ago. They wink at you then call for everyone to plate up ‘while it’s hot’.

Yes, you ate pineapple on your pizza. It first began as a joke just to spite those who turned it down, but then you found out you actually enjoyed the taste. There was something about the sweet and savory flavors that blended perfectly.

Levi comes over with two glasses and hands one with what looked to be a dark cola to you. You mouth a ‘thank you’ as you watch his face twist in disgust as he eyes the boxes in front of him. “Are those pineapples?” Levi leans in for a better look, eyebrows knit.

“Pineapples?!” Furlan rushes over from the table to look at the pizza, the new poker game forgotten. “Alright, who’s the one who asked for them?” He looks around the room and spots you with your hand raised in the air.

“Oh my gosh I could hug you right now. Pineapple on pizza is the best!” He exclaims. He leans over the half wall to marvel at it and then looks back up to you with a massive smile. Levi clicks his tongue and grabs a slice out of the cheese box then makes his way into the living room. You can’t help but feel sad at the sudden absence.

“Okay, okay. My turn. Hange. Your obsession with zombies, what the fuck is up with that?” Nanaba leans on the coffee table in anticipation. Your sister just cackles and sits up straight as they push their glasses up their nose with a finger. There’s a glimmer in their eyes.

“That’s hardly a difficult question. I grew up watching zombie movies and I just need to know how they tick. Like what kind of sorcery goes into making them do the things they do?!”

“Hange, they’re fictional creatures, there’s no science that could ever explain that!” Moblit shouts from next to her, exhausted. Hange just laughs and goes on a tangent about possible ways to make and cure zombies, but you zone out as it’s a conversation you have had with them for many years. Looking around the table, you smile to yourself. Tonight has been such a fulfilling evening for you. Being around familiar faces as well as getting to know new ones brought more joy to you than you expected. Not to mention this ridiculous game you were all playing that made your face ache from laughter.

Miche had come up with a game called “What the fuck is up with that?” as a way to wind down from such a big dinner. Players ask someone something personal about their life and follow it with ‘what the fuck is up with that?’ and if they refuse to answer it, they have to take a drink. It honestly felt like a more cracked version of “Truth or Dare” but it was fun, nonetheless. You, of course, nursed soda in your hands instead of alcohol so you were the most sober one here.

So far, no one was really trashed. Tipsy, definitely; There were some words that were starting to slur. What surprised you the most was Levi’s soberness in comparison to everyone else considering how many times he had to take a drink. It figures that any questions directed to him, he opted for silence. You do, however, notice his cheeks were ever so slightly flushed when you glance at him next to you. He radiated an aura of relaxation, which you can’t help but assume is a rare thing for him. He turns to meet your gaze, not looking away after what felt like a good minute.

“Okay okay, we get it Hange. Enough!” Your attention is snapped back into the present company, and you break eye contact to see Onyankopon laughing and throwing a balled-up napkin at Hange’s face to shut her up.

“Fine, sorry! Hmm…” Their eyes wander on the people sitting in the circle with them until they land on Furlan’s face. “Alright, Furlan. You! You’re single and you’re extremely attractive. What the fuck is up with that?” Everyone’s attention shifts to Furlan’s bright red face.

“What the fuck is up with the singleness or the attractiveness?” His voice sounds an octave higher.

“Well, both, obviously, dumbass.” Nanaba pitches in.

“I well. Uh.” His eyes flicker to yours and then look away just as quickly. “I just haven’t found what I was looking for yet, I guess. And for the attractiveness, I just am?” He shrugs his shoulders and laughs nervously. He takes a sip of his drink anyways as he averts his gaze to anything but the people in front of him.

“Hmmm. I don’t know if I’m okay with that answer, but I’ll let it slide. Okay, you pick the next one!”

“Oh okay, uhh.” His eyes travel around until they lock eyes with you again. “The berry nickname. What the fuck is up with that?” Everyone’s gaze now shifts on you. You realize that Hange had called you her ‘little berry’ in front of everyone but had never really given an explanation. You bite your bottom lip and start scrawling on your board. Everyone waits for you patiently and a wave of gratitude washes over you. They really were a great group of friends.

‘When I was younger, I used to steal Hange’s berries from their parfaits.’ You flip the board, and everyone is silent as they read. They burst into laughter one by one, Hange included. Even Levi’s scarred mouth has an upturn. You couldn’t give the full story because it would be too long for you to write, but growing up in the foster system meant you were deprived of a lot of good things, one of those being fresh fruit. So, when the night came when the Zoe’s officially adopted you and they wanted to celebrate with parfaits, you went absolutely feral. You had never tasted anything like fresh berries before and they quickly became your favorite thing in the world, next to your sister of course.

“You guys should have seen her for the month after that. All she wanted was berries for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She prefers strawberries, but we don’t discriminate here. All berries are valid!” She yells, taking another sip of her drink. You laugh silently along with them and start thinking of the next victim. After a few moments, you scribble down what was on your mind. Then you point to Erwin and his eyes bulge at the sudden movement but straightens up anyways, clearing his throat.

‘So Erwin, I notice you’ve been taking my sister out for drinks quite often. Your relationship with them, what the fuck is up with that?” You smile innocently at your sister’s composed face.

“Psh, easy.” He pats your sister on the head and Hange just laughs in response, swatting at it. “You of all people know how fun she is to be around. More so when she’s drunk. She’s a great karaoke partner.” They clink the bottles they had in their hands together and smile at each other. You furrow your eyebrows and stick your tongue out.

‘Boooooooo.’ You write and your sister just shoves your shoulder.

“C’mon, you can’t seriously think there’s anything happening between this,” Hange wiggles their index finger in between her and Erwin. “Like really. We’re definitely not each other’s type.”

Miche snorts and mutters something under his breath but you can’t hear the words. Erwin chuckles and nods in agreement then takes another sip of his drink as he surveys the faces in front of him. They land on Levi and his gray eyes bore into Erwin’s crystal blue.

“Hey Levi…” Erwin has a smirk playing on his lips as he stares at his best friend. “I notice you’ve been smiling when you look down at your phone recently. What the fuck is up with that?” Erwin’s eyes sparkle mischievously. Levi just scoffs but you gawk at him with wide eyes, along with Furlan and Hange. Levi doesn’t smile. Sure, you can always tell when he’s fighting it. But you’ve never seen his curt demeanor break into joy.

Levi narrows his eyes on Erwin then answers with a big swig of his glass, finishing off the contents in it as he continues to stare at his friend. Levi’s face is certainly more flushed than before, the tips of his ears bright red as well. He looks away, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

“Booooooo!” Hange echoes what you had exclaimed earlier.

“Leeeeeviiii! Are you talking with someone?! I thought you were mine.” Furlan pouts, arms crossed.

“It’s none of your goddamn business.” Levi’s voice is brusque. He gets up from his spot quickly and takes his empty glass to the kitchen.

“What do you mean? I think your friends deserve to know.” Hange sits up on their knees to call over to Levi’s backside.

“Then we’re not friends.” He says and disappears down the hall to the bathroom.

“Is he always like that?” Nanaba questions as she finishes her own drink as she stares down the hallway.

“Yes, it’s very normal for him.” Erwin states matter-of-factly, chuckling at the rise he got from Levi.

“Short and angry. It’s quite the combo.” Onyankopon cuts in, grinning.

You fidget with the wipe-off marker as you think about how he reacted. It wasn’t very surprising to you. Levi is a very private man when it comes to such things. All of the conversations you had with him were still on a fundamental surface layer. You knew better than to ask anything deeper for fear of him shutting you out, like he just did with Erwin’s question. Levi, at least, didn’t sound angry right now, but you suspect it was because it was someone so close to him asking such a question. If it was you… then. Well, you were scared of what he might do from such an intimate question.

“Yanno what, it’s probably about that time I head out. It’s getting pretty late.” Moblit chimes in as he starts to get up from his spot on the floor.

“Whaaat!? We still have one more thing left to do. Besides, it’s literally,” Hange takes a glance at the clock on the wall. “10:30. Just a little longer??” They clasp their hands as they beg, staring up at her friend.

“I must agree with Moblit here, we need to submit our report before the end of this week.” Onyankopon replies as he gets up as well. He squeezes Hange’s shoulder as he speaks with a slight smile. Hange sticks her bottom lip out.

“Fine, fine. But just know, you’re missing out on only the greatest tradition ever: Making fun of stupid romance movies.”

“I wanna do that!” Nanaba cuts in, laughing at the idea.

“Nanaba, we’re literally your ride home.” Moblit calls out from the dining room as he pulls on his winter jacket. Grabbing Nanaba’s as well, he makes sure to pick up the deck of cards they brought and shoves it into her jacket pocket.

“Boo.” She gets up clumsily and huffs. “You two are no fun.”

“What she said.” Hange says, sticking her tongue out again.

“Seriously though, Hange. Great party. We had a really good time.” Onyankopon compliments as he zips up his own coat. At this point, everyone is standing up as they talk to each other. You glance over and notice that Miche is getting ready to leave too.

‘You’re going too?’ You scrawl to him quickly.

“Ah yes, unfortunately IT never takes a break.” He mutters to you solemnly as you go in to give him a tight hug. “Are we still on for next Wednesday?” You nod at him with a cheerful grin. “Great, I’ll see you then.” He ruffles your hair and walks past to say goodbye to everyone else.

After a few more goodbyes, it’s just you, Hange, Erwin, and Furlan standing in the living room. Your sister and Erwin were conversing about what movie to watch as Furlan shuffles up next to you. Levi still hadn’t come out of the bathroom yet.

“I bet he’s taking a shit.” His blasé statement makes you giggle uncontrollably, your shoulders shaking as you do. You hold your hand to your mouth to compose yourself as you give Furlan such a bewildered look. He just winks at you.

“Furlan, I’m going to kick your ass.” Levi’s sharp voice cuts in behind you both and it makes you both jump.

“Hey now, I was just kidding.” Furlan’s voice wavers as he takes a step back. You wave at Levi with a warm smile, but he just averts his gaze and goes to sit down on the sofa, one leg crossed on his knee. Biting your cheek, you go and find a spot on the floor, making sure to put a pillow under your butt for comfort. Hange and Erwin are flicking through a bunch of streaming apps trying to find the chosen movie for tonight.

“Ah okay, I know what we’re doing!” Hange slaps their hands together in finality. Erwin makes his way to the armchair and sits back with a heavy sigh.

“Not my first choice.” He says, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

“Oh c’mon. Everything about it screams bad romance. Plus, it’s the worst out of all of them.”

“Hange, you never cease to amaze me.” Furlan states as he takes the spot next to Levi.

Twilight: New Moon? Really? In your heart of hearts, you couldn’t completely hate Twilight as you were practically obsessed with it in your late teens. But you had to agree, it wasn’t the best out of the five films. It’s like Hange knew what you were thinking because they stare directly into your eyes and wiggle their eyebrows at you teasingly. You roll your eyes, and she chuckles.

“Move it, sis. I’m going for the spot behind you.” Hange slips past you to sit on the couch right next to Levi’s other side. You back up so you’re sandwiched in between Hange’s legs, and you yawn with the added warmth. You had a fleeting thought of not being able to finish the movie before falling asleep. How right you were. You don’t even make it past Bella’s dream sequence, drifting off into your own little world. The smell of clean laundry and musky body wash permeates your senses as you do.

Levi isn’t even paying attention to the movie. Even if it was something he was interested in, his focus could not be kept on the screen. Levi felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest as he felt the weight of you leaning against his bad leg. Your soft cheek pressed into his knee while you slept soundly. His joints have been aching for the last hour, but he would sooner touch fire before disturbing you. He couldn’t see your face very well from this angle, but he could only assume how peaceful you looked right now. Your hair is still in buns, but they were much messier than before from the activities of the day, hair falling every which way.

As you sighed softly in your sleep, his mind raced with everything that had happened today. From the ecstatic look in your eyes when you opened the front door to when you had gently cradled his head in your warm hands after hitting him on accident, making sure you didn’t hurt him. He still felt tingles of your touch shooting through his nervous system from that. And making cookies with you, he had more fun than he could admit. You were so meticulous and careful, albeit chaotic in your ways. He found it so endearing.

Then that damn Erwin asking that stupid question. Erwin knew and still egged him on. Of course, it was you; you were the reason why his heart and stomach did flips whenever he heard his phone vibrate. He wouldn’t allow anyone to know that though, especially you. Not when you already seem so entwined in other people’s lives.

Levi hadn’t missed Furlan’s interest in you. His longtime friend often stated that he wanted to get to know you even more. Not to mention Furlan’s tactless ways of wanting to include you in everything he made plans to do. It seemed as if you weren’t aware of his intentions though, so maybe he wasn’t clear enough. Levi hopes you never pick up on it.

And of course, there was Miche. What kind of relationship did you have with him? Levi didn’t mishear how you had plans with him next week. And the intimate touching? What was that all about? The relationship with Miche did not seem romantic from his viewpoint, but then again.

Levi was never the jealous type, or so he thought. He found that any attention aimed at you ruffled him. What about you made him feel like this? He scoffs under his breath, not able to look away from the back of your head. Hange stops munching on the cookie in her hands and turns at the sound, now noticing you fast asleep on Levi’s knee.

“Want me to take her for you?” They whisper to Levi, shifting to stand up.

“No, it’s fine. I don’t want you to miss out on prime Eduardo and Beatrice or whoever the fuck these people are.” Levi waves his hand dismissively and carefully gets up, making sure to move your head so it doesn’t flop forward. “Which one is her room?” He asks as he stares down at Hange. They regard him in curiosity but smile regardless.

“The door with the sakuras on them.” Levi nods and bends down to effortlessly pick you up despite his smaller frame, cradling you as your head falls back. You’re deeply asleep at this point, he assumes, because you make no motion from the disturbance. Levi feels the stares from Furlan and Erwin as he steps over everyone to make it to the set of bedroom doors down the hall.

As he delicately places you on your bed, he starts to pull the soft comforter up to cover you but then you shift in your sleep, making him pause. With the confirmation of your sleep-induced heavy breathing, he pulls the blanket up the rest of the way and takes a long look at your soft features. The peace that radiated off your face was something he delighted in. How beautiful you were to him.

On his way out, he steps slowly to the door, being mindful of his surroundings as he goes. He spots a couple of framed pictures that littered your cluttered desk. One catches his eye in particular; It’s a photo of when you were very young, maybe 5 or so. He takes a step forward for a closer look, minding the creaking floorboards carefully. An unsettling feeling runs cold in his veins as he recognizes the family that surrounded you as well as the house in the background. He knew that family and he knew that house, and he came to realize he knew you as well.

A flashback hits him like a brick. One of him and the boy in the photo, your brother, playing outside until the sunset. Of you yelling for him with your small voice that it was time for dinner and that he needed to come home. Of your little pigtails completely askew as you cried after falling on the gravel due to a skateboard accident from when him and your brother tried to teach you how to balance on it. Of him giving you a flower to distract you from the pain and your bleeding kneecaps. Of having to move away because his good for nothing father threatened his mom and Levi had warned him to try. Of you and your family waving goodbye as he stared from the rear window, the view of your tear-streaked face getting smaller and smaller as his mom drove away.

He had forgotten all about you, and it seemed you had forgotten about him. A breath hitches in his throat and he turns to look back at you, your face scrunched up from a dream as you pull the blankets closer. No wonder he felt compelled to you, almost like he needed to protect you. With a soft sigh, he creeps slowly to the door and slips out before shutting it close behind him.

You roll over in your sleep, sighing again, the night of the fire haunting your dreams.

☾ Previous Chapter: January ☾ Next Chapter: March

40 notes · View notes

tinyinternetphilosopher · 6 months ago

Text

GUYS.

When Ruby vanishes in "The Church on Ruby Road," her mom has suddenly become bitter and all that, and instead of fostering 33 kids, some of whom she still keeps in contact with, she's only had "five or six." (She doesn't even bother to count. God that kills me.)

Right? Okay, but we all saw the parallel between the Doctor and Ruby's mom when he was looking at the photos of the kids she's fostered. She's got this huge family. The Doctor has this huge family, all his previous companions and friends (even if he's an idiot... "I've got no one" my ass, Doctor).

Ruby was the first foster child, and she made all the difference.

Now I'm not caught up on Classic Who yet, but I have seen some of the First Doctor's first season. Susan is the first companion. Potentially the most important.

I also haven't seen the two most recent episodes yet because I'm crazy and apparently have massive self control waiting to watch with my partner. BUT I did see a screen clip of the 1960s episode where the Doctor mentions that he's "just over there" or something with his granddaughter Susan. So if the show is drawing that parallel (and might end up drawing one to Rose too??), what if we're going to see, in a more explicit way than "The Church on Ruby Road" does, just what the Doctor would be like if Susan hadn't been there??

Side note, I have no evidence to support this (yet) but man I bet Susan is Ruby's birth mom.

#doctor who #fifteenth doctor #15th doctor #the church on ruby road #ruby sunday

22 notes · View notes

mins-fins · 10 days ago

Text

ANGEL EYES. — [L.MH] [PT. 1]

❝ sometimes, it feels as if mark lee is your guardian angel ❞

PAIRING: mark lee x male!reader

WORD COUNT: 20.8k

NOTES: hey, hi, hello, its me isa mins-fins back with another BANGER 😍‼️ make sure to hit that subscribe button for more epic fanfiction 😋💥 okay but seriously, i've been writing this for almost TWO MONTHS (began in aug, first part wrapped up in nov) and its been a journey holy shit 😭😭 i dont remember why i randomly started this draft but i did and now its become this monstrosity, almost 21k words and were only halfway there, sorry, there's unfortunately more suffering awaiting, but dont worry, happy ending!! of course, user junjiie, i love you 💗, thank you for again listening to my unhinged rants about this thing and consuming all of the spoilers, you deserve love, and an endless supply of mark photocards 😊😊 as for everybody else who reads my stuff, thank you for sticking around despite the fact that i disappeared for about three weeks, please enjoy this mess 🤗

PREVIEW | NEXT

so when donghyuck called him from a jail phone, voice heightened in indignation as he begged for mark to come make a case for him, the older really had no choice but to do so. mark had never been to a police station before, afraid of catching sight of real criminals in the flesh by just walking past the building. he had watched too many scary stories, had terrible ideas of human beings planted in his head.

"and how exactly am i supposed to bail you out?" an eyebrow raise accompanied mark's inquiry, and donghyuck scoffed as he shook his cuffed hands.

mark snickered. "you talk so much when you're the one handcuffed".

"watch your mouth, you need me".

in a instant, donghyuck's blood ran cold, mark almost laughed at the sight, but he remained still, watching. the older man glanced up, catching mark's anxiety ridden eyes. "and you are?"

"this is mark, my best friend" donghyuck was quick to quip, a hand placed onto his shoulder.

"ohhh i remember you, i used to assume you two were brothers".

donghyuck frowned, whining out complaints as he's dragged away by the sheriff. "can you wait, mark?"

"i can say the same for you, mr golden boy".

mark's lips turned up slightly, his hands twitching from where they rested on his lips. "i got kicked out.. always come here to let dad and mom cool off for a few hours".

before you could respond to that one, a police officer entered the room, one you seemed to recognize by the way your eyes lit up. "come on l/n, time to go".

a frown settled onto your lips. "do i really have to go now? you know how my parents are.."

"i can't keep you here, it would technically be illegal".

"it's not like they'll care anyway.." you mumbled, slamming your notebook shut with yet another click to your pen. "just an hour longer, please?"

"you know i can't do that kid".

"are you alright?" he muttered, leaving his voice at a low volume. he didn't want to raise it, he wanted to keep it at a volume that kept you comfortable.

you snickered, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth. "fine, going home is just my worst nightmare".

you chuckled, hoping it would quell his worries. "it's okay, not like it's your fault".

"still, you shouldn't have to feel that way about going home.. your parents shouldn't be kicking you out".

you grimaced, put off by the words. it isn't as if they were terrible, you just seemed.. astonished. why did he care? it was simply weird to you.

"well thank you for your concern but i'll be fine".

mark blinked away the tears threatening to escape his eyes, god what was wrong with him? why did he even tear up at that? he totally weirded you out.

you stared longer, seemingly itching to say something. there were words resting on the tip of your tongue, mark could practically sense it. "yeah, you too".

"what took you so long?" mark uttered, eyes casting donghyuck's way.

the younger huffed in his usual donghyuck manner, hands on his hips. "he was giving me a big talk about safe driving" he placed heavy air quotes around the last two words, lips curled into a frown.

mark licked his teeth, his thoughts retracing back to you. "do you know him..?"

donghyuck blinked, his mouth opening to ask about who until he saw the way mark motioned his head. "y/n? oh yeah, he's around here all the time, the officers basically take him in whenever.."

"why?"

his voice scratched like sandpaper, donghyuck wincing at the tone. he then shrugged his shoulders, his attitude puzzled. "something about his parents not really caring, it's pretty shitty".

mark's lips parted in a freezing motion, his stomach pain only worsening. "that's scary.. feeling safer at the police station than your own home".

"i don't know much about his situation, just know his parents have a terrible temper".

"why are you even asking me about y/n?"

mark glanced up at his childhood friend, a small whisper in his mind telling him to lie. "just curious that's all".

the lie laid bitter on his tongue, but he didn't allow for donghyuck to dwell on it, rising from the chair he practically glued himself to. "promise me you'll never illegally drive again, the officers here look like they wanna kill me".

donghyuck rolled his eyes, tease evident in his attitude. "okay markie, promise".

mark pushed his shoulder in retaliation.

that? that was two months ago.

when mark hears his name fall from his teacher's lips in pair with yours, he snaps out of an episode of disassociation, blinking up. "what?"

maybe mark's letting it all get to his head, why is he even making assumptions when he hasn't walked up to you yet?

while everyone else rushes to leave the class, mark rises from his seat and again glances over at you, slinging his back over his shoulder.

"hi".

"we uh— were partners for the project".

your smile is neutral. "i know".

mark began biting the skin off his lips, hands gripping at his backpack. "i don't know where you want to start, uh.. maybe we could go to the library?"

he's just saying what he's hoping will work. he doesn't exactly know you yet, he assumes your one off interaction at the police station left a sour taste in your mouth.

but unbeknownst to mark's anxious inner voice, you smile, not exactly a neutral one this time, a much better smile ('better' in terms of expression, your lips stretch into an aspect of satisfaction).

"that'd be nice".

mark nods, almost too enthusiastically he thinks. how embarrassing. you let out a silent yawn, oblivious to the battle mark is having in his head. "tomorrow maybe we can start?"

your smile again becomes neutral, but at least mark doesn't think you want to kill him. "yeah, tomorrow is fine".

tomorrow. tomorrow is fine.

"okay, have a good day y/n".

still, mark isn't sure why his mind tells him he should stay away from you.

THE NEXT DAY GOES AS USUAL, DAD AND MOM bicker at the breakfast table, leave kisses on mark's forehead before letting him go off. the heightened smell of pine was all that met mark's nose, his senses freaking out as he stepped into the cool october air. it's still eight in the morning, it shouldn't be this cold. just a month ago the sun was attempting to burn off his skin with it's murderous rays, and now it's obscured behind gray clouds. hopefully it doesn't rain, he forgot to bring an umbrella, and mom would kill him if he turned up at home with his clothes drenched. he assumes that he's gotten pretty good at predicting the weather, and judging by the pattern the clouds form in the sky, it won't rain today.

history is his last class of the day, and mark immediately found out that history is the only class you two share. donghyuck runs his mouth in his ear all day, something about junior year really being the one where you lose your identity, mutterings about drinking and partying falling from his lips.

his chin leans against his hand as he complains about jaemin not giving him homework answers, and mark releases a small sigh, drawing a small snort from his best friend. "you getting bored of me now?" he's quick to ask, aggressively shoving his shoulder against mark's.

mark grunts, nose scrunching as he sees the elation donghyuck shows. "you've been talking forever, do you not get tired?"

"someone has to entertain you".

"i'm not entertained, i'm annoyed".

donghyuck huffs, an eye roll being his response to mark's insult. he never lets it get to his head, donghyuck has always been the least sensitive between the two of them. his lips curl up into yet another smile of glee, overjoyed by mark's irritation.

"it's the seniority getting to you, grandpa".

mark shares an incredulous with him, scoffing as he grabs his bag from where he let it sit beside him. giggles spill from donghyuck's lips, his face red at the sight of mark's furrowed eyebrows. "not even a year older than you.."

"you're still old!"

donghyuck sings out the words in the way of a melodic tune, whistling in the air. mark again mutters something about not being old, and donghyuck sticks out his tongue. "see you later oldie".

mark's face scrunches, but he bid donghyuck a goodbye anyway. he's been a constant in his life, getting called old by an annoying sixteen year old isn't exactly the kind of thing that puts stress on his life, he'll be fine, there's definitely worse the world could throw at him, and lee donghyuck just barely scratches the surface.

after lunch, he has history for a double period. he usually disassociates through the first forty five minutes, his teacher is a nice woman, yes, but she takes so long to get to the point. he's read through the topics time and time again, he's simply relearning them to get the last few credits he needs to graduate.

he'll be done by the time the second semester rolls around, so that isn't much of a worry.

when he slides into his seat, he wants to crane his head back to look for you, but just as his head connects the dots, attendance begins, and he hears you mutter a small 'here' when the teacher calls your name.

"mark lee?"

he glances up, straightening his posture. "here" he replies, licking his lips.

the dragging of your pen against the paper of your notebook stops, mark knows it's yours because he listened to the same sound yesterday up close when he asked you about the library.

the first forty five minutes of class fly by, mark manages to keep himself from falling asleep while his teacher goes on about something he'd already learned about years prior.

then, she stops, the shuffling of desks are heard in the room, and his teacher sighs as she places her hands against her desk. "as i said yesterday, your project is about important historical events, you can use these next few minutes to brainstorm with your partners".

she then sighs with her hands clasped together. "no funny business" she scolds, her tone reminiscent of a mother angry at her children.

a click of the tongue sounds as mutters begin getting louder, mark's chest tightens as he glances around the room, watching everyone else get up to discussing with their partners.

of course, he has to go to you.

he stands from his place and drags a chair over to you, eyes squeezing shut at the sound it emanates. "sorry".

you instantly squint, a scrunch of your nose adding to your expression. "did you just apologize for.. nothing?"

mark swallows, his lips pursuing. he doesn't have a response for that, apologies falling from his lips are programmed into his speech. the way you asked makes him feel as if something is wrong with his manner of speaking, he isn't sure why he thinks about it in that way though.

"i don't know i.." his words drift off into nothing, there isn't a response to that one, because mark has no idea why he says what he does. "i'm sorry".

you respond with a chuckle, and mark's eyes miraculously widen. he just did it again, and it felt completely normal. one click to your pen. your lips stretch into yet another neutral smile, the prospect amusing you. "alright, what should our topic be?"

mark pauses, scratching his nails against the wooden table. his eyes drifts over to your notebook, and you close it upon catching his gaze. his lips press into a thin line, a breath in his teeth. "maybe the industrial revolution..?"

it's simply the first thing he could say at the moment, he wasn't exactly thinking. you blink, using a hum as your reply this time. you map out the several features on mark's face, his big brown eyes shine with anticipation, and it gets difficult to hide your smile.

"unless you wanna do something else" mark is quick to add, his words a small whisper. "i want to hear your suggestions".

he observes the act of your expressions changing, your eyebrows pinching together in a questioning manner. you don't seem to mind, he gathers. "it's alright, i would've said the bubonic plague or something but that's been dried up countless times i assume".

mark breaks into a small smile, relaxing against the chair. "okay, the industrial revolution it is" he whispers, hands clasped together. "do you still want to go to the library today or..?"

"i can't make it today".

your voice lowers exponentially, eyes casting to the side. mark gazes, as if attempting to read your inner most thoughts. you don't exactly make them clear, that's puzzling, mark almost wants to ask what the deal is, but he assumes you'd probably cuss him out if he did.

he presents his warmest smile to you. "it's okay, i can find sources for today, we can begin searching together tomorrow".

you don't nod, simply stare back. mark blinks, avoiding your eyes as he glances around the room. "i don't really want to put that all on you, i can still gather sources i just can't stay after school.."

mark is the one who nods, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. "that's fine, you think you can stay tomorrow though?"

god mark feels like such an asshole asking that, he tries to keep his eyes everywhere but directly in front of him, because he's afraid of getting decked in the face.

but instead, you chuckle. "yeah tomorrow is fine, sorry for being so.. inconsistent".

mark then shakes his head, hoping the movements would reassure you in some way. "it's alright, thank you for telling me".

your lips stay pressed together, another small hum vibrating from you. you again run out of responses, so mark speaks up. "let's work well together, yeah?"

is that really the correct choice of words? think about it mark.

mark already thinks too much, if he thinks more, he might begin feeling tears stream down his cheeks. he doesn't want to seem.. jumpy, even if there are voices screaming at him with their pitches so high blood might start pouring out of his ears.

and finally, you nod, which gets a small smile out of mark.

MARK READS ON AND ON ABOUT THE INDUSTRIAL revolution until the words burn into his brain, until the sun goes down and his mom is casting him strange looks every time she walks past his open door. around the fifth time she did a lap, she paused as she watched mark flip through the many books scattered around his bed. "what is going on here?" she inquires, and mark glances up as he's midway through reading about british imperialism, a small smile on his lips. "this is for my project" he whispers, clear fatigue in his voice. she narrows her eyes, puzzled by the manner he's acting in.

"it's almost ten o'clock, mark".

ten isn't that late, he would usually muse, but there's a pointed look she sends him that leaves the words resting on the tip of his tongue. "okay, i'll go to sleep now.." he mutters, licking his lips.

she smiles softly, tapping her finger against his door. "sleep for real, mark, don't read all night".

"i don't read all night" he argues to the air. he knows that isn't true, he can't argue about it to his mom. he crosses his arms over his chest, imitating the stubborn front donghyuck always puts up.

she utters something akin to a 'sure' and gives one last look to mark before walking down the hallway. mark only casts one last glance in the direction of his door, then he picks up the books he littered across his bed to shove into his backpack.

he isn't exactly sure why he couldn't stop thinking about your neutral smile. mark has only interacted with you three times in two months, yet there's something there that keeps him grounded, his mind warns him of something, but you can't be terrible, you seem practically harmless.

mark isn't new to knowing people with somewhat shitty parents, but he feels as if there's something more there. mark really can't judge from a one off interaction he wasn't even involved in besides watching, how can he concoct something like this about you in his head when you barely talk to him as it is? he can't just make shit up before actually sitting down to get to know you.

he stares out his open window, the night breeze comes in with a rush reminiscent of ocean waves. he switches off his lights and stares up at the ceiling, hair splayed behind him as he waits for the exhaustion to take over.

he's bad news mark.

but what does mark know? this could just be his anxiety's biggest manifestations, he's making shit up. he's guessing based on the few interactions you two have had, and if he thinks further, it seems that you don't exactly enjoy his presence.

mark doesn't get much sleep that night.

that isn't as crazy as it should be, mom asks about it at breakfast the next morning, catching the dark circles under his eyes. he manages to utter an excuse about sounds outside or something, it was barely believed, she squinted at him with pure incredulity in her eyes, but he quickly scarfed down the remaining waffles on his plate and rushed to school, weighed down by his backpack containing thick books.

donghyuck made an awful lot of remarks about him accidentally killing someone with his backpack. he had the urge to purposefully swing it around to hit the younger with his backpack, but he kept such thoughts to himself, he could get revenge on donghyuck another time. maybe he'll hit him in the head with a metal pan again, who knows?

the lack of sleep exhibits itself in mark's barely functioning body as a whole. seven separate times during the day he almost dozed off during class, his teachers gave him the benefit of the doubt, him practically snoring on his desk was nothing new, he gets a pass because he's the kid with good grades.

by the time last period rolls around, mark forgets everything else that happened today. two hours of sleep usually don't do him this bad, but considering he'd been constantly getting over seven hours of sleep this week, two basically rendered him dead.

his hand slammed onto his desk a few too many times, he jolted up a few too many times. his eyes narrowed as he yawned again, doing his regular glance around the classroom. he counts each of the heads he catches, noticing some missing, but only a certain missing one is alerting.

you aren't here.

mark's lips turn downward, a weathering frown now overtaking his former exhaustion. mrs. lim took attendance thirty minutes ago, how did he miss you not responding to the call of your name? he narrows his eyes at your empty desk, feeling a pit form in his stomach.

where is he? his lips pursue as he looks forward, now unable to care about his fatigue when he was now consumed with confusion on where the hell you were.

did you just decide to go m.i.a for absolutely no reason? god what an asshole move. do you even know how difficult it is to do a project on your own?

mark doesn't let the anger fester for long, though, because it then becomes worry. maybe something happened, you told him you'd be able to stay today, did you just lie to him?

okay, so maybe his anger does fester a little bit, but he can't stay angry at really anyone for long (not even donghyuck, annoying guy 101). his fingers press uncomfortably onto the straps of his backpack as he makes his way over to the library, maybe you won't show up, but he still has to finish this project anyway.

he drops the books down with a resounding thud, immediately getting to jotting down notes after apologizing to the librarian. his head simply leaned downward, threatening to fall and crash against the table at any moment. he isn't sure how he remains awake, but he manages to keep himself up enough that he's able to write at least two pages of notes.

he's about to begin drooling, an embarrassing feat really, but he can't contain his weariness.

and just as he's about to pass out—

"are you good?"

mark jolts up straight away, a gasp of surprise leaving his lips as he takes in the words. when he whips his head back, he immediately frowns, it's you. he sucks a breath between his teeth, shoulders relaxing. "yeah yeah i'm just tired i.."

mark would've spit out some snarky interjection when his eyes drifted downward. then, in their usual fashion, they widened, and a grimace made it's way to his face.

a barrage red and purple decorate your knuckles, the skin between your fingers threatening to open. he barely holds back his wince, it looks painful, so painful. why the fuck are your knuckles split?

"are you alright?"

you deliver a snort. "is that the question you're always going to ask me?"

"oh my god! you're— your hands jesus what the hell even happened!?"

mark grabs your hands to get a closer look, your rough skin clashing against his in a burning manner. you promptly draw your hands away, as if in a protective stance, as if.. weirded out by the whole ordeal. "nothing, it's fine".

"it's fine?" mark parrots, sharing an incredulous look with you he normally wouldn't share with anyone. "your knuckles are one snap away from bleeding!"

your face twitches, and you bring a finger to your lips. "don't yell in a library, it isn't that serious".

"it isn't—" mark cuts his own speech off, closing his eyes to try and keep himself calm. "what happened?"

you mutter something unintelligible at first, fingers picking at the sides of your hands. "i just made someone mad.."

"you just made someone mad?"

you shrug your shoulders, startlingly mundane about the whole thing. mark stares, an intake of fear entering him. your face is flat, the only expression mark could make out was slight irritation, but not at him.. at least he hopes.

"you weren't in class today" he whispers, now quickly changing the subject as you drag the chair beside him back, settling onto it.

"i skipped" you speed through your response, grinding any of the pain you feel in your knuckles between your teeth. "looked like shit, mrs. lim would've had a heart attack if i walked into her room".

"you didn't think to go to the nurse or something?"

you narrow your eyes, tongue probing at the side of your cheek. "you ask so many questions, that has to be your thing".

mark sucks his teeth. "..sorry for worrying?"

you blink, a neutral smile spreading across your lips. "you're a weird guy".

there it is. there the word is. weird. you think mark is weird. is mark weird? if mark is weird, then what does that make you? is it weird that he has empathy for others? is it weird that he holds empathy for you?

"are you insulting me?"

your head shakes back and forth, fingers prodding at the corners of your book. "not quite, i've just never met someone like you".

"well usually someone having split knuckles is cause for concern".

your face again drops, and the awkward chuckle mark hoped would quell such worries instead died down in his throat. he watches the way you gaze upward then downward, mapping each of mark's features with your tentative eyes. "it's not that big of a deal" you mumble, twiddling your thumbs as you quickly avert your gaze.

you avoid his eyes in the same way a child does when they fear upsetting their parents, your lips curl down into the exact appearance of disappointment.

mark's mouth is completely dry, he doesn't really know how to deal with.. this. he levels at you with a blank stare, attempting to see through you, maybe get into your thoughts and finally figure out why you don't find your knuckles being split being the huge problem it is.

"okay.. um, can you show me the sources you found then?"

mark is trying his best to not make it awkward, how do you not even release a wince at the pain you must be experiencing? you simply engross yourself in that pen and paper once again.

it's a bit difficult to make conversation when all he currently sees are the bruises decorating your hands. he grimaces as if you're some exhibit he isn't fond of, and from the flickers of your eyes he catches in his peripheral vision, you clearly take notice.

"you gonna stop looking at me like that?"

"sorry!" mark is quick to sputter, his blinks as rapid as his response. "i'm sorry it just.. doesn't that hurt?"

a breath falls from your lips, the beginnings of a laugh making it's way up into the air. "it's nothing i haven't felt before".

mark wants to ask again, but he keeps in such urges. again, he's still afraid you'll punch him in the face if he opens his mouth again. mark assumes he just doesn't get it, maybe how you feel is vastly different to how he feels. "can i at least walk you to the nurses office?"

another question, mark feels his stomach curl into something terrible, but instead of the blow up reaction he expects, you simply pause, blinking.

you press your teeth against each other, thinking it over with your eyes trailing the shelves of the library. one click to your pen, a small sigh falling from your lips. "fine.. i guess".

you guess, well that's a start. mark can make well with that.

you gather books as best as you can quickly, shoulders tensing. mark urges to grab your hand, maybe soothe it over with his thumb, but he suppresses such urges in fear of weirding you out (because you already deemed him a 'weirdo').

"you know.. if you ever need to tell someone something, i'm here".

it's a flimsy suggestion, a small uttering mark could only muster with the worry in his heart. you shot him a glance, the abrupt movement of your head almost startling mark backward. you stare, the expression on your face indecipherable, mark wishes he could reach into your mind, pull out your innermost thoughts and figure out exactly why you think the way you do.

your eyes stay narrowed for a moment, simply staring at mark, frozen in front of the nurse's office. you click your tongue, scratching at the start of your sweater. "sure".

sure, sure. it's not a no, that's good. it's not a yes, which isn't exactly assuring. it's a sure. sure. there's a start, it's a beginning.

you don't exactly sound sure, your eyes cast around your surroundings, and your lips sink into your bottom teeth. the anxiety permeating from you is reminiscent of mark's own.

well maybe you two aren't that different.

i'm here if you want to talk, mark repeats in his own head, and he begins biting the skin off his lips.

sure is your response.

it's a good enough response for a start.

THE TITLE OF 'FRIENDS' ISN'T YET ESTABLISHED between you two. you're still an enigma, a mystery, mark is still just the tiniest bit afraid you'll attempt to punch him in the face if he says something you don't agree with. you're an easy person to work with, in comparison to some of mark's other project partners. you two equally split up the workload, you don't mind taking up most of the work, you tell mark it's okay, even with bandages arranged around your bruised knuckles, you could jot down notes about the fucking industrial revolution all day. mark makes out that you don't necessarily enjoy talking, you communicate with your feeble expressions.

again, you two aren't established friends, and considering you only have one ninety minute class together in one whole school day, it would be a turbulent effort to even attempt a friendship.

you can be summed up as simply 'project buddies', there isn't anything more to it, but that's because mark has some fear instilled in him directed towards you. you don't glare, but it still appears that you do.

you continuously scribble in your notebook, biting your fingernails, the same anxious impulses mark finds himself unconsciously doing. day in and day out mark clocks a few more similarities between you two, that's interesting.

you become less of an apparition and more of an actual person, october begins coming to a close, temperatures falling at the rapid rate of the leaves. in the next coming weeks, he'll probably begin wearing jackets.

"i think maybe we should start going to each other's places after school?"

you pause in your dragging when mark brings that up, one click to your pen. you lick your teeth, whole body tensing. "we can't go to my place" you clear your throat. "my parents.."

you stop midway through your own sentence, it's as if you were restrained, unable to utter the rest of it in.. fear? you avoid mark's gaze, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

mark blinks, he sort of expected that answer. another click to your pen, you continue dragging it against your notebook page. mark almost leans over to check what you're doing, but he keeps himself still. you don't have to say more, he doesn't need for you to say more. "oh, it's okay! we can just go to my place".

you remain still. "your parents won't mind?"

mark quickly shakes his head. "they never mind, honestly they keep complaining about how i don't bring people over".

for the first time since mark's met you, a small laugh leaves your lips. "okay.. that's fine".

fine. not good, just fine. maybe it takes a while for you to warm up, mark doesn't mind, he can wait.

you tug at a strand of your hair using your finger, licking your teeth. "is friday good for you?" mark inquires, watching as you again begin vigorously clicking your pen.

you again pause before answering, an indecipherable feeling entering you. mark tries to study you, but he gets nothing, he really is clueless to how you are. "friday is fine" you then say, much too rapidly for it to be authentic. you seem shaky, erratic, it all seems so scary.

mark nods, a final click to your pen. "okay.. after school maybe? we could walk together".

yet another flimsy suggestion, mark only utters such a thing because he doesn't exactly want to pick specific times. it's easier this way, directly after school, you have your last class together, just heading home after it all finished would be fine. it's simple.

you stare at him as if he just grew two heads, your eyes dilated in a freakish fashion. mark finds it staggering, you always stare at him as if he's said something absurd when he offers even the tiniest bit of kindness to you. your eyebrows furrow, simply a look of pure confusion painted on your face.

but even with the torture you seem to be facing in your own mind, you present a neutral smile. "yeah, that's okay".

okay. not good, just okay.

mark thinks he can deal with okay.

the coming friday enters like a freight train, it's a tumultuous crash that is so rapid the world shakes. mark scratches behind his ear, eyes droopy as he simply awaits for the ending of class.

he zones out on the sound of a pen dragging against a notebook page, he doesn't need to crane his head back to know that you're scribbling something into your notebook. he wonders if you're interested in drawing, maybe you enjoy the aspect of art, that seems interesting.

mark wants to ask, but there's always a voice in his head that chastises him for being so curious, the same way his mother used to when he'd ask outlandish questions as a child.

he has to use all of the fight in him to not look back at you, he'd probably get another weird utter from you if he decided to simply turn back and stare, mark isn't stupid, he knows how people are, he knows it's weird to just sit and stare at someone.

one click to your pen.

class dismisses as soon as it begins, and mark almost falls to the floor when he stands up, his exhaustion practically weighing him down. he acts in a strange manner, one that draws a small snicker from you as you observe his behavior.

"you alright there?" mark only sighs, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"i'm fine just.. tired" mark explains, chuckling emptily. you simply stare again, tightening your hold against your backpack. you click your tongue, shoulders still tense as ever. "do you want to come over now or..?"

you nod. "now is fine".

mark makes sure to not show his elation too clearly, just presenting his regular smile as it is to you. he almost grabs your hand, he wants to feel the intertwining of your fingers, but again, you'd probably punch him in the face.

the walk isn't long, mark walks to school every single day, having not skipped a beat ever since freshman year began. you two stroll towards mark's place in silence, the air growing awkward as the autumn air breezes through your hair.

mark clears his throat, taking in a breath. "is your hand getting better?"

it's a trifling inquiry mark only makes out because of the need for conversation, it'd be so much worse if you two were just quiet. mark usually doesn't have a problem with talking to people, but with you, it's just the slightest bit difficult.

you again offer a curt shrug as a response. "it's okay".

okay. wow, you never really give a sure answer. mark wonders if you even know the answer yourself.

"okay isn't really a reassuring answer".

"doesn't matter".

it does to me.

the words hang heavy on mark's lips, but they then die down in his throat, would it be strange to say that to someone you barely even know? someone who probably doesn't consider you a friend in their own indecipherable mind? mark curses himself for harboring such strong feelings towards you, someone whose basically a stranger.

"again, nothing i haven't felt before" you mutter, words hushed in their usual manner. you leave no more room for explanations, going silent as you continue your walk beside him.

mark, though curious, also remains silent, slowly speeding up as he makes out the sight of his house.

you keep your head down when mark opens the door, peaking his head from behind it. "mom! i'm home!"

mark misses the small flicker of jealousy in your eyes, too busy getting attacked by his mother's frenzied affection. you could only stare at the spectacle, keeping your silence.

"oh, and whose this?"

mark blinks, his big eyes widening extraordinarily. "this is y/n, my classmate, were doing a project together".

you again keep silent for a while, clearing your throat as she offers you a smile. "it's nice to meet you mrs. lee".

"oh you're adorable, look at those cheeks!"

you had half a mind to lean back when she pinched your cheek, but you stayed still, even with the tense of your stance. mark snickers behind his hand, finding the sight amusing.

he lets a breath fall from his lips. "were gonna go study in my room, if that's okay.."

"that's fine! don't be afraid to tell me if you need anything!"

she claps her hands happily and ruffles mark's hair, yet you continue staring incredulously, as if the actions were alien. you only nodded, silence again overtaking you as you follow behind mark to his room, smiling at his mother as you walk your way there.

"your mom is nice" you whisper, mark only able to hear it because of the lack of space between you two. you still don't smile, a neutral expression remaining on your face.

mark again chuckles lightly, motioning his head forward as he holds his door open for you. "yeah, everyone says that, you okay though?"

you glance back at him, puzzled. "yeah.. i'm fine".

fine, that has to be a specific buzzword of sorts. mark again blinks, several emotions flaring in his irises. "well i noticed you kinda froze when my mom touched you".

you merely offer a shrug, settling onto the floor and pulling out the several books you'd been reading prior. "i'm just not used to that kind of affection".

mark raises an eyebrow, dropping his backpack onto the ground with a resounding thud, the many books practically shaking the floor. that was an answer didn't really expect. maybe he just doesn't get it, your mom can't be that bad, it's your mom! how could a mother not harbor affection towards her child.

you snap your head up, a look in your eye, as if you were daring him to make a brash comment about your family life. mark gulps in the quietest way possible, smile straining against his lips. "did you get any more notes on the steam engine's origins?"

you reply with a small smile, seemingly pleased he changed the topic.

hours go by with you two simply studying and talking about your topic, the familiar drag of your pen filling the air of mark's room. you didn't bring up anything off topic, it's honestly impressive how long you stayed without getting distracted, but mark assumes it's because you just don't enjoy talking.

you've pretty much given up on the subject at hand, resorting to drawing whatever in your notebook. dark circles begin visibly appearing under your eyes, but you still don't make a comment, simply preoccupying yourself with your mini art pieces.

mark stares, eyes drifting off to his open window, the sun slowly disappearing behind the horizon. he admires the reddish-orange hue of the sky, his lips turning up at the picture.

"what time is it?"

mark's eyes flicker in a sudden shift, and he again glances at you, then at the clock against the wall. "it's almost eight pm".

you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, gathering the books you rested on the floor to again put back into your backpack. one click to your pen, you also let it fall into your pencil case. "i should probably get going now.. thank you for letting me come over".

mark shakes his hand, offering a dismissive wave. "it's nothing, if you want to start doing this more often.. you know my parent's won't mind".

you pause, letting your silence fester as you put on your backpack. you bite your inner cheek, mark can practically hear you thinking. "..maybe" you mutter, staring down at the floor as you begin making your way down the hall, towards the front door.

mark pretty much springs to his feet, he doesn't want to be an impolite guest, his mom always told him that it's nice to walk people out. "or we could just go back to studying in the library".

he really just wants you to be comfortable.

you pause, steps slowing down as you make it to the middle of the living room. your fingers tap against the straps of your backpack, licking your teeth. "i'll think about it, then when i decide i'll tell you".

mark finds himself smiling at that. it's again, a start. "okay, i can wait".

you share yet another neutral smile, but it seems your lips itch to turn up even more, you seem to want to share a genuine smile with mark, but you stop yourself for some reason. "you're so patient".

"i learned from the best".

you again bite your inner cheek, and mark's eyebrow raises, those words appear to displease you.

"oh are you leaving already y/n?"

your displeasure transforms into immediate bliss when mark's mother again enters, blinking. "yeah, it's getting late now".

"do you not want to stay for dinner?"

you again stop in your place, seemingly freezing. mark does the same, parroting your expression with his shoulders tensing. he glances over at you, watching as the inner battle your having in your head plays on your forehead in big bold letters. "um.. i—"

"mark!" his mother chastises, smacking his arm in a manner that draws a small wince. "what are you standing there for? invite your friend over for dinner!"

mark almost wants to utter he's not my friend, but that's just so mean to say out loud. he isn't exactly sure if that's what you would want or not, so his mouth again hangs open like he's some sort of idiot who doesn't know how to speak.

but you break the silence by chuckling silently. "it's okay mrs. lee i wouldn't want to overstay my welcome".

she sucks her teeth, waving a dismissive hand in the same manner mark does. "don't say that! you're welcome here now! have you eaten yet?"

you can only stare incredulously, biting the skin off your lips. "no not really.."

she gasps in horror, her big brown eyes holding a familiar look of worry. "you must be starving then! just stay for a few minutes, yeah?"

you so badly want to decline, mark sees it in the shift you perform, but it's also impossible to decline, you share one glance with mark, then you sigh. "okay.. thank you ma'am".

"don't thank me, i'm simply doing the bare minimum".

you wonder where you've heard that one before.

mark finally snaps out of his daze, a warm smile spreading across his features. "are you really staying?" he inquires when his mom walks back to the kitchen, the volume of his voice merely a small whisper.

"just for a few minutes" you whisper in reply, the straps of your backpack burning into your palm with how hard you're pressing onto it.

mark can barely even hide the bigger smile that threatens to paint his face. that's nice, it's not along the lines of a sure or an okay, it's something more.

maybe it's a step in the right direction.

WHEN MONDAY AGAIN ROLLS AROUND, MARK has way too much on his mind. the crisp october air has just gotten cooler, his heavier sweaters now in need. a few days from now it might begin smelling much more brisk, trees will wither at an even quicker rate, the leaves crunching under his shoes will fly away in the breeze without bidding so much as a goodbye. by the time november comes to a close, mark will have worn out this red sweater he's so attached to. for now though, he's going to wear it every single day, it matches the appearance of the autumn season, he wants to stay on theme (and he also just has a super huge attachment to the sweater).

even after you stayed over for a few extra minutes to have dinner at his house, courtesy of his mother's own magnanimity, you two still don't establish any kind of friendship. he heard you utter a few words about how he clearly inherited that from her, but he feigned ignorance as he focused on eating dinner.

your presentation is next week, the last week was simply full of research questions and many pieces of cardboard scattered across the floor. the librarian finds the sight of you two so mundane that she greets you with a small nod each time you enter.

there's much more studying than there actually is talking about anything else, an unseen work ethic mark usually wouldn't find weird if it wasn't for the morbid curiosity he has for everything.. well— you.

mark stares as you continue jotting, tape on your right hand side you stare at the cardboard folder you two decided to use for your presentation. he's been distracted for a while now, but you're still as focused as ever, it's pretty admirable how dedicated you are to this project.

"do you maybe wanna be friends?"

the tiniest sound of ink dropping onto a paper stops, one click to your pen. you always seem to do that, pause midway through your actions before fully taking his words into account. you always stare at him as if he says something absurd, like he's a crazy person. mark finds each of your actions pretty strange.

"what?"

he claps his hands, nails scratching the back of his own palms. "i don't know.. you've had dinner with my parents already, isn't it weird that we aren't friends?"

you itch to say something, and mark wishes superpowers would be granted to him in this very moment. he can't tell what you're thinking and the irritation begins to seep in as quick as he craves for it to disappear. "unless you don't want to be friends.. i don't mind".

what a terrible liar. he does mind. he fucking minds so much it's going to begin physically paining him soon enough.

you let go of the tense you seem to hold onto, shoulders relaxing as you sink into your chair. "fine, let's be friends then".

you say the words in a manner that indicates you're just the slightest bit weirded out, almost everything about mark seems to weird you out, and maybe it makes mark feel a little insecure.

"what's your favorite season?"

"excuse me?" you narrow your eyes, and mark thinks any courage he could've held in that moment dies down in his throat.

mark blinks, you have no reason to be so terrifying. it must be some skill of yours. "well usually when you make friends with people you get to know them.. i don't really know much about you, it's a start".

a start, there it is again, a start. your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth, you pull your sleeves over your arms. "what? like twenty questions?"

mark's slow nod is almost barely recognizable. "yeah basically".

you stare for a moment, your silence overtaking you once again. maybe you're just thinking of an answer, maybe you don't think of these things in the way mark does, cogs turn in his brain, and he begins;

"i like summer.. mostly because my birthday is in summer but i've never really been a fan of the cold, it's excruciating to sleep in the summer but i greatly prefer it anyway, it's easier to sleep in heat than trudge to school in thick snow".

when mark releases a final breath, he again glances at you. oh! he just rambled, he just rambled through a response that he basically programmed into his head in preparation for this kind of question.

you again, look at him like he's crazy, but there's a hint of amusement in your expression, your lips threatening to turn up into a grin. "i don't really have a favorite".

mark's face scrunches, that's a boring answer. "okay but if you had to choose, which one would you pick?"

your shoulders again drop, rising into a shrug that isn't exactly of confusion, but something much more complicated. "autumn, it's like the in between season, summer makes my skin feel too clammy and winter is just.. painful".

"painful?"

"i don't really enjoy snow" you begin clicking your pen consistently once more. mark wonders if that's one of your anxious habits, he has some of those as well, he wonders a lot about you. "i guess it can be pretty but it's so cold i just can't help but dislike it".

"valid point".

you hum in response, and mark again smiles. it's pretty nice talking to you about just stupid things like this, hopefully you can share more moments in such a fashion. "do you like history?"

you snort. "not as much as you clearly do".

mark shakes his head for some reason. "i don't really enjoy history i just put a crazy amount of effort into it like i do my other subject.."

"well you have to stay on the principal's honor roll".

mark clears his throat, if he couldn't pinpoint your tone of voice, he would've thought you were insulting him with a show of sarcasm, but it's quite the opposite, there's a show of admiration in that tone of yours, respect. it's flattering, and if mark wasn't still afraid of you punching him in the face, he would've allowed for tease to slip from his lips.

"you're very smart too, just in your own way".

"well i'm much more of a science person" you respond, and mark's eyes widen in a form of daze. he had no idea what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't that.

"science?"

"you seem surprised" you utter, just the faintest hint of surprise on your features as you mirror the look mark gave you seconds prior (save for your eyes widening).

"i don't know, i would've never guessed science".

"i've long finished that class i just.. i find the aspect of science interesting" you pause your consistent clicking of your pen, again beginning to draw out something in your notebook.

mark almost wants to inquire about what you draw on the pages, but he keeps that in the recesses of his mind. "like biology and stuff?"

"physics, chemistry, astronomy, all the bullshit you hate learning about in school" though you focus on the drawing you seem pretty into, you also remember to give as much attention to mark. "it's interesting to research about when there isn't an uptight guy up your ass".

mark snickers at the reply, completely knowing of the teacher you're referring to with that sentence. "mr. cho isn't that bad".

"oh trust me, he is".

you giggle at your own response, the first show of a genuine smile mark sees on your face ever since the first time he met you. "sorry for calling you weird the last time".

shock flickers in mark's galaxy like irises. he wasn't exactly expecting an apology from you, he already got over it (as much as he could with how terrified of you he was). "it's okay, i guess i was being kinda pushy".

"no i was just being difficult, don't blame yourself".

mark wants to but in, yet his mouth clamps shut. he itches to tell you no, to tell you that he just doesn't get you yet, but it's not your fault.

"well were friends now, so it doesn't matter".

when your eyes cast towards him, an unusual shiver runs down his spine, but a smile stays stuck to his face.

after legions of fear, friendship is finally established.

but it's still a little strange. though mark finally knows a few new interesting factoids concerning you (your favorite season is autumn, you have an interest in science, and you aren't as scary as you may seem), you're still a pretty clear mystery.

the rest of the week is spent finalizing your project, there's again less off topic talking again, and mark holds on to that small conversation you originally had in the library for the next few days, looking forward to the next time he can have such a talk with you.

you seem to thrive in silence, so mark doesn't try to force more conversation between you two, when you want to talk to him, you'll talk to him.

but mark still has that itching curiosity which won't go away.

"do you ever worry about someone for no reason?"

mark inquires it to donghyuck on the following friday, the barely warm breeze rushing past them, slightly lifting hairs from their heads. donghyuck blinks, stretching his legs forward onto the rest of the aluminum bleachers. "what do you mean by that?"

mark pauses, he should've expected donghyuck to answer his question with a question. it was all abrupt, flimsy, it wasn't all thought out like most of his inquiries. "i don't know.. sometimes i don't talk much to someone and i still feel like something is going on".

donghyuck raises an eyebrow. "ohh, you're talking about y/n".

mark doesn't even know why he's shocked, out of words, he nods at his response.

donghyuck lets out a breath. "y/n's a pretty stalling guy, he usually doesn't get to the point quickly, you might just be worried because he won't confide in you".

"i mean.. it still feels like there's more there, i can understand if he doesn't want to talk to me but i'm also afraid something more might be going on, you know?"

donghyuck sucks his teeth, offering mark an elbow nudge that seems along the lines of an affectionate gesture. "that might just be because of your naturally aiding impulses, i'm sure if something is going on, y/n just isn't telling you because he doesn't want you to freak".

mark's face scrunches. "i'm not going to freak".

"well then you clearly don't know yourself" donghyuck pats mark on his shoulder, grabbing his backpack and shrugging it over his shoulder. just as mark is about to give yet another brash response, donghyuck quips; "wanna race back to my place?"

before mark can respond, donghyuck leaps off the bleachers and begins sprinting, much to his own dismay. "hey! that's cheating!" he shouts, but donghyuck makes no move of slowing down.

mark curses at his own best friend, trying his best to keep up the pace. "donghyuck!"

all he receives in return is a gleeful giggle.

MARK FIRST MEETS YOUR PARENTS THE FOLLOWING WEEK, an event that was entirely accidental. you guys ace the project, the resounding look of pride from your teacher alerts you of that. the a+ was guaranteed you say, from the moment mrs. lim decided to place you two in a project together she knew it was. still, even with the usually high expectations, mark can barely contain himself, almost hugging you in the aftermath of the whole thing. he isn't sure how he managed to keep it all to himself, but he did, and it's good that he did, he was afraid of making it all more awkward. he was pleased to see a smile blossom on your face, your smile is pretty, it's fitting.

the moment class ends, he makes his way over to you. "we did a good job" he whispers, the volume of his voice barely able to be considered a whisper. he held his hand up, wincing in his own mind as he watches you stare.

but, fortunately for mark, you give him a high five, your hands meeting in a silent slap. for the sheer moment your palms meet, he basks in the feeling of your rough callouses against his soft ones. "you did a good job".

"we did a good job" mark specifies, and you stand up from your place, simply responding with a small nod.

you decide to not argue with him, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. there's a small silence that settles into the air, but then mark again perks up. "do you want to walk home together?"

shock colors your features, an instant look of fear flickering in your eyes. "i— i mean.."

you lick your lips, thousands of thoughts running rampant through your mind. "sure" you reply, feeling mark's heavy gaze directed towards you.

again, it's just a sure, nothing exactly reassuring.

mark tightens his hold on his backpack, a small look in his eye that you actively avoid. he decides to not comment on it, instead letting the silence fester as you two bid farewell to your fellow classmates and begin walking home.

it seems you walk home to school as well, you haven't muttered anything about a bus, or about your parents taking you to and from school. he usually sees you walk in the opposite direction of the bus stop, so he simply assumes you walk home like he does.

he hears you mumble something under your breath, and he narrows his eyes, curiosity peaked by the unintelligible words. he glances at you, eyes full of anxiety. "is everything okay?"

your head snaps up so quickly mark almost squeaks at the sharp movement. your eyes are widened comically, but mark can't even find an awkward chuckle ready to leave his lips, you look terrified, you look.. scared.

"m' fine".

"you sure?"

you don't have to lie to me.

mark decides to keep that one to himself.

"yeah i'm fine" you say, avoiding eye contact and stomping your shoes.

you stop in front of an unfamiliar house, only half the walk towards mark's own place. oh, so you don't live that far away from school. you live closer than mark even does, he guesses he again learned something new about you.

"hey you don't even live that far away" mark says, hoping his smile will somehow brighten your mood. he watches a small flicker of bliss form on your face, and he manages to contain his own elation. "you didn't tell me you lived close by".

you again mutter something unintelligible under your breath, but your tone of voice indicates that you're just the slightest bit afraid once again.

mark is about to ask again when the door swings open, and an unfamiliar woman with a mean look in her eye. she squints at the sight of you, irritation crossing her expression. "i thought you were staying at school late".

the look of fear in your eyes becomes more of embarrassment, but the terror remains. "i um— i messed it up, my projects over".

mark studies her face for a moment, he assumes that's your mother, but he doesn't capture a single resemblance between you two. "crock of shit" she mumbles, her eyes shift erratically, and she clicks her tongue in a manner reminiscent of how you do it.

mark stops as he feels an awkwardness shift in the air, and she finally has half a mind to acknowledge his presence. "do i know you?"

her head tilts slightly, and mark almost jumps back in complete terror. "no i.. mark lee, i'm y/n's friend".

she raises an eyebrow, a chuckle of disbelief being her immediate response. "you have friends?"

you lick your teeth, the irritation in your expression betraying the words on your lips: "i didn't mean to lie" you continue to avoid her eyes, as if afraid she might turn you into stone if you even glance at her face. "i'm sorry".

she dismisses your apology rather quickly. "whatever i don't care.." she almost rolls her eyes, but she seems to stop it. "it's nice to meet you.." she snaps her fingers as her words trail off, and mark realizes she forgot his name already. "mark".

your cheeks tint pink with embarrassment, and you look down at the floor, holding in your breaths. "can i have a few minutes?" you mumble, tutting silently.

she shrugs. "be quick, we have to talk" irritation laces her tone, and she places a performative smile on her face as she glances at mark, the door closing behind her.

mark is almost completely overtaken by his silence, but then you sigh, shoulders relaxing. "was that your mom?"

you mimic her prior shrug, tongue prodding at your cheek. "more or less.." you don't exactly react to those words, simply have an indifferent expression on.

"you don't look like her at all".

the moment the words escape mark, he slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes widening. that has to be offensive in some way, that's absolutely ridiculous to say, if his mom were here she'd smack him on the back of the head for the way he just acted. instead, you reply with a silent chuckle, a small smile painting your face.

"foster parents".

mark blinks. "what?"

"they're my foster parents, not my actual ones" you explain, and mark's heart drops to his feet.

oh. that's the entire expanse of your situation. mark didn't exactly think that would be the case, he doesn't know what he expected, but it definitely wasn't this.

"oh" he voices out loud, gritting his own teeth. "i— i'm sorry i didn't know".

he almost feels guilty in a sense.

for what, though?

"it's alright" you shake your head, shrugging your backpack over your shoulder, your expression of indifference remains. "see you on monday".

mark has no idea how he collects his words. "yeah, see you.."

but mark can't walk home without the feeling of nausea bubbling up in his stomach.

CONTRARY TO YOUR VERY WORDS, YOU DO NOT show up on monday. mark immediately jumps to the worst possible outcome. he isn't exactly sure why he jumped to thinking the worst, he's simply afraid something happened. your.. mothers sharp glare remains permanently framed in his memory, she was absolutely terrifying. when monday flies by with no sight of you, mark almost wants to walk to your place himself, but he keeps himself settled in his own thoughts, he wouldn't want to freak you out. his worries extended towards the day after, the greeting november air only adding to his worries.

now the oncoming cooler air is completely welcomed on mark's part. he enjoys the cold weather more than he has the gall to admit, and his dark red sweater has already been worn out even after only a week of consistently wearing it.

mark entered class on tuesday with a whole wave of nausea overtaking anything else he could've been feeling. when he took his seat, he practically waited to be bestowed with bad news.

he licks his lips as the teacher begins taking attendance, the 'here' he mutters is full of distraught he couldn't tell he was holding.

mrs. lim narrowed her eyes at her clipboard, the click of her tongue bouncing off the walls. "has anyone seen y/n?"

the question is asked out of sheer curiosity, just the slightest hint of worry present in her tone. it's a thing to be absent once, but you're usually only absent once, you're a pretty consistent student in terms of attendance.

her eyes flicker up, and the rest of the class begin their resounding murmurs. mark merely glances around, licking his teeth, additionally sucking his teeth to sell his irritation.

she scrunches her nose, about to ask again when, as if on cue, you walk in through the door. the indifference painted on your face is similar to the one he memorized back on that friday. you blink, avoiding her eyes in the manner of an ashamed child. "sorry i'm late" you mutter, frantically extending your gaze around the whole room.

mrs. lim stares, attempting to read your inner most thoughts. "it's okay just.. you'll get a tardy pass later sit down".

you offer your best nod, lips remained pressed shut as you shuffle towards your seat, avoiding mark's eyes specifically. his gaze trails onto yours, but because he can't see your eyes, he can't read how you feel.

you hang your head low as you take your seat, the familiar dragging of your pen against your notebook page not filling the room. mark feels as if the room is suffocating him whole, your very presence itself strangely scaring him.

"why didn't you show up yesterday?" mark inquires, he really wants make it sound like it's all okay, but his words trail off into an accusing whine.

you pause, shrugging. there's so much exhaustion behind your eyes, as if you've missed out on weeks upon weeks of sleep. "something came up".

you attempt your best shot at walking away from mark, back faced towards him as you walk in the direction of the bathroom.

mark scrunches his face, speeding up his own pace and brushing his shoulder against yours. he can no longer contain his curiosity, you look absolutely terrified of.. something. "what came up?"

"nothing".

"don't lie to me".

mark's expression of worry is now at full affect, his big brown eyes holding anxiety. you manage your best scoff, the grasp on your backpack tightening. your face twitches, the flicker in your eyes betraying the disdain you attempt to face make with.

still, you try to brush him off, shaking your head. "i'm not lying, and besides, it's none of your business".

mark kisses his teeth, a loud sigh now leaving his lips. he clears his throat, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants.

you stare, crumbling under his undeniably soft gaze. "i'm sorry" you mumble, immediately looking away from him, eyes shifting uncontrollably. "i just don't want to talk about it" you poke the side of your cheek with your tongue, clasping your hands behind your back.

mark stares down at his feet, biting down into his bottom lip. he scratches at his own fingers, anxious impulses all high and mighty. "it's alright, i— um.. do you wanna go get ice cream?"

you blink, sucking your teeth. you scratch the back of your neck, and mark has no idea why he asks that question, he just knows ice cream usually makes him feel better, maybe it's the same for you.

"ice cream? in november?"

"ice cream always helps people feel better".

you offer a small chuckle at that, head turned down as you nod.

mark smiles, he can't believe that worked. your walk to the local ice cream parlor is silent, clear fatigue still present under your eyes. you lightly shiver at the cold breeze that rushes past you, a faint mutter from mark questioning if you two should even be going to get ice cream in the first place.

"you're the one who suggested we get ice cream" you breath out, making no indication that you were against the idea of getting ice cream after school in the beginnings of winter. "i don't mind".

"but i just want to make sure".

the words seemingly appall you, and mark realizes that most of his words seem to have that effect on you. you again fester in your silence, tongue licking at your lips as you catch sight of the nearby ice cream parlor. "it doesn't really matter.."

why doesn't it matter? why is it so strange that i care about you y/n?

the words don't escape mark, they simply fizzle out into the air as the screeching of the open door instead meets his ears. mark is quick to smile as you two walk into the ice cream parlor, his humming immediately filling the air.

"i kind of see ice cream as a comfort thing because it reminds me of summer.." mark mutters, licking his spoon stained with the cookie dough flavoring.

you don't eat right away, simply stab your spoon into your pile of vanilla. "how can something so cold be so comforting?"

just look at you.

you suck your teeth, as if sensing his thoughts, the ice cream brightens your mood in just the slightest, he can see it in the way your eyes flare up. at least he momentarily got it, at least there's at least a sliver of happiness there.

"everything cold is comforting in summer".

"it's going to begin snowing soon" you smack your lips at the taste of vanilla on your tongue, it's just.. vanilla. "might get a brain freeze".

"worth it for the sugar".

now that, that draws a small snicker from you, your lips finally turning up in a display of ecstasy. maybe it isn't you finding that funny, but it's you finding mark's delivery to be blissful. your head tips down as you attempt to stifle your laughter, but you can't exactly hold yourself together.

mark stares at the prospect, his lips turning up unconsciously as his gaze is stick onto you, and how you look.. pleased.

mark can't even contain it. he loves seeing you be happy.

which then results in his mind retracting, he thinks back to the sight of your mother's angry face, and his lips turn downward.

maybe you were gone because something happened at home, mark can really do nothing but assume.

"sacrificing your well being for sugar? that's so.. strange".

"sugar is a good coping tool" mark breaths, throwing out the ice cream that he finished rather quickly.

you simply hum in reply, clearly not believing those words, but letting mark have the win anyway.

"hey y/n?"

you blink, your gaze slow as you stare down mark. mark clears his throat, swallowing his own fear. "i want you to talk to me.. okay? i don't mean to come off as pushy or annoying or nosey i just want to make sure you're alright, i'm not going to bite or anything".

you opt to awkwardly chuckle at that last bit, again shrugging your backpack over your shoulder. "i know.."

mark's face scrunches, he still doesn't really have you, you're still pretty withdrawn. "you don't have to tell me about everything just.. you know i'm here, if you ever need someone to talk to—"

"you'll be my first choice, don't worry" you finish the next half of your sentence with your own words, words that can't be feigned honesty, as you avoid mark's eyes in the process.

the words strike something.. different in mark. is it maybe bliss? some undiscovered form of happiness? he doesn't exactly know the name, even if it feels as if it's on the tip of his tongue, but he's pleased for now. there's trust that's been established between you two, you trust mark.

"okay, okay" mark heaves a breath, his smile sticking to his face.

you seem to like his smile, because your pupils dilate at the sight of it.

maybe it isn't exactly the ice cream that helped you feel better, but mark can't figure out that it might be him that's your cure.

FRIENDSHIP ALSO MEANS HAVING TO SPEND time with each other, something that seems easy enough. "spending time" simply equates to mark talking and you listening. again, you don't exactly enjoy talking, so you leave all of it to him. mark talks to death about himself, his life, his dad, his mom, stuff you probably don't find interesting, but keep circulating through your mind. mark can hear the disdain you must be feeling, because all he does is talk about his stuff. he doesn't think he would enjoy that if it was someone else, but you really don't seem to mind, as long as you don't need to do the talking.

"do i talk about myself too much?" mark abruptly inquires, head whipping towards you in an instant. your gaze is fixed on the ground, and you opt to sucking your teeth as a silent response. "it's alright, you can be honest".

you snicker at that. "you're a very.. thoughtful person".

mark narrows his eyes. what is that supposed to mean?

"you think a lot, there's simply so much on your mind" you clarify, tongue dragging across your teeth. "i don't mind if you talk, it's how i learn".

"learn about..?"

"you, what you like, how you are, talk all you want it's okay".

mark straightens himself, hands dropping into his lap. "i want you to talk".

you raise an eyebrow. "what?"

"talk about yourself, i know enough about me, why don't you tell me about you?"

"i'm not that interesting" your quick to say, fingers beginning to pick at your own individual nails. when mark sends you a look, you follow up on your words; "really i'm not, don't look at me like that".

mark takes in a deep sigh, carting a hand through his light brown hair. "it doesn't matter".

you bite into your cheek. mark parroted your own words to signal at least.. something, reaching out to you might be a challenge, but mark isn't going to stop trying.

you contemplate, eyes heavy lidded. "i mean— why are you at the police station so much?"

the police station. that's where you two first met, you raise your shoulders into a performed shrug. your dark sweater paralleling the color of your eyes, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. "my parents are assholes".

the words are said surely, there isn't indifference there, there is no dissatisfaction behind your eyes, you know what you're saying, you don't even mind what you're saying.

mark could never say such a thing, let alone say them about his parents.

"oh".

mark clears his throat. "you're a foster kid? how does that work?"

mark knows how it works, he just needs to see how the terms spill from your lips. "they just drop me into another home when my other foster parents get sick of me, adoption is useless so i just stay with strangers who get paid monthly that don't care".

mark isn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't that. his mouth remains dry, what is a regular response to exposition like that? he scratches at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, guilt again in the air.

"sorry, i really know how to ruin the mood".

"no no! it's okay, i'm the one who asked".

"still, didn't need to make it all.. depressing".

"i mean— it is pretty depressing" mark scratches at his own knees, smile awkward. "but sometimes that's just how life decides to treat us".

us is a bit of a shallow way to put it, mark doesn't understand your circumstances, he's never faced any of what you face. "i'm sorry, i wish i could do something".

"you need to stop apologizing".

"but—"

"stop" you suck a breath between your teeth, hands placed symmetrically at your sides.

"alright, sorr.." he pauses when you raise an eyebrow, the beginning of his second apology forcing itself back down his throat. "okay".

you just barely hold back your shiver, the fall air rushing past you in a speed reminiscent of the ocean. "shit like that isn't your fault, i get you're.. you care, i know, but you don't have to apologize".

mark opts to awkwardly chuckle. "i don't really know what else to say.."

"you're a nice person to be around".

the words are enough to get a pause, but you don't exactly mind it, you said those words with conviction, as if you had previously thought them out and were completely sure of what they entailed.

or maybe you can secretly sense the effect they have, because mark isn't exactly the best at hiding the formations of his newest expressions. his eyes light up, the shine of the sun peeking behind the clouds amplifying the pleasure he recedes from the compliment.

your lips turn up by in the slightest, and you suck a breath between your teeth as you patiently await his response.

"oh" mark breaths, clearing his throat as he lets the strange feeling in his stomach settle away. "thank you.."

you don't reply, your smile simply mundane. you again kiss your teeth, mark's fingers fiddling at his necklace. "i.. uh— another thing i'm pretty interested in astronomy".

the mutter is half said, the rest of your words trailing off into something barely intelligible. mark's eyes dazzle in intrigue, astronomy is pretty interesting. "you like space?"

"i love space" you shake your head in disbelief at your own words. "it's pretty, the stars, the planets, just.. all of it is beautiful".

"and deadly".

now that one is a surprise, because you aren't able to stifle your laughter, your head shaking as a display of your amusement. "well yeah but that can be said for many things".

mark's eyes again dazzle, his own intrigue building up at the reply. "that's what makes a lot of the world interesting".

your eyebrow raise in a parroting of mark's own intrigue. "more like it's what makes it terrifying".

"terrifying can be interesting".

"i never said it couldn't".

your knees knock together, an indecisive look in your eye. you pull your sleeves over your arms when you begin noticing the goosebumps, a sigh leaving your lips immediately. "it's fine if you talk, i don't mind".

mark has no idea why, but he feels that those words are a lie. "it doesn't get repetitive?"

your expression falters for a simple moment, but instead of speaking, you keep your words to yourself. you shake your head silently, hands placed into your lap.

there's a moment of silence again, mark carefully crafts his next words, straightening his posture as he keeps his gaze trained straight ahead. "do you like drawing?"

seamless segway.

it would be seamless if mark wasn't shaking so much, maybe it was dumb of him to forget his sweater, but in his defense, it was warm in the morning! he would've been sweating on the way to school.

mark thinks if he focuses enough, he'll be able to hear the familiar continuous clicking of your pen in the background.

he again shudders, a small breath leaving his lips.

when you glances back at you, you smoothly slip your sweater from your arms and hand it over, slightly startling mark back. your face remains still, your gaze averting in an instant. "take it".

mark blinks dumbly.

you suck your teeth. "your cold, take it, you can give it back to me tomorrow".

"y/n—"

"you're not walking home cold.." you mutter, simply placing the sweater in mark's lap as you watch him again involuntarily shudder. "i'll be okay, don't worry about me".

mark wants to argue, but you leave no room for that, stubbornly crossing your arms. he takes the sweater and mutters a silent "thank you"

a somewhat ggressive act of kindness, mark guesses that's pretty fitting for the kind of person you are.

he still tries to get you to open up, and slowly, it seems to be working.

"i know you hate snow" he comments whilst you two walk down the hallway that friday. he tightens the grip he has on his bag, a small smile on his face as he pictures the upcoming winter. your hum is a usual response, a simple sound mark has to focus to even catch. "how do you plan to survive winter?"

you snicker silently, again humming. "can't do anything but walk".

"you better have good boots".

"i have good boots, maybe not a good jacket, though".

he's about to ask for clarification when the spawn of satan decides it's his time to shine; "markie!"

mark flinches when donghyuck comes around the corner, bouncing on his heels as he makes his way over to mark. mark's loud sigh ricochets off the walls of the hallway. "that's the bane of my existence.." he mutters towards you, and you chuckle lightly.

"you're so sweet to me" donghyuck's smile is strained, but he doesn't focus all his attention on mark that often. his eyes flit over towards you, and there's immediate intrigue there. "and you must be the famous y/n!"

the volume of his voice causes for your face to strain, but you keep it all together as to not offend him. you glance everywhere before again focusing on his face, a small smile showing up on your lips. "famous is.. probably pretty dramatic".

donghyuck exchanges a knowing look with mark, who blushes and clears his throat whilst feigning ignorance at that glance. he extends his hand towards you, whistling. "well with how mark is, it seems you are".

he snickers, and mark just barely keeps himself from punching the younger. you shake your head as you too shake his hand, avoiding mark's eyes. "okay then, it's nice to meet you.."

"donghyuck".

"donghyuck, nice to meet you".

mark watches the interaction with wide eyes, his mind rushing with a flurry of thoughts. "i can't believe this is our first time meeting! it's been a while since you two became friends huh?"

friends is a weird word, but you don't exactly comment on it. "yeah, mark has mentioned you before he just never said your name".

mark blows a breath between his lips, unaware of why his anxieties are suddenly rising. you glance at him, practically sensing the presence of his anxiety. mark almost jumps, but he manages to keep himself together. "i have to get home early, i'll see you monday".

you don't exactly seem sure of those words, but your smile makes it all look fine. "it was nice meeting you donghyuck".

the other only hums, you two exchanging smiles as you begin your way down the hallway, smile dropping once you get a wise distance away from them.

mark keeps the silence before donghyuck pipes up; "isn't he cute?"

mark chokes on his own spit, his face noticeably scrunching up as he glances in his childhood friends direction. "what?"

"don't tell me you've never thought it before" donghyuck snickers, affectionately nudging mark as an uncertain smile tugs at his lips.

"i haven't! you're so.. strange".

donghyuck narrows his eyes, clearly he doesn't believe such words. "okay mark, i'll believe that for your own sake".

and mark can't register why he assumes he's lying, donghyuck is just crazy.

donghyuck is just crazy.

OKAY, NOW THAT IT'S BEEN MENTIONED, MARK can't exactly stop thinking about it. donghyuck can be so stupid sometimes, but maybe it's somewhat justified. he never really took the time to focus on your facial features in specific, and he guesses that laying awake at three in the morning is the perfect time to focus on them. mark noticed everything, nose freckles, moles, the shape of your eyes, the curve of your lips, your dark brown irises, he usually picks off the physical traits of those he's meeting for the first time with stark detail in his own mind. he really never did think about it, but now he has all the time too.

are you cute? mark's eyes stick to the photos decorating his walls, the figures shrouded in darkness without the light of the sun permeating through the window aiding in producing the shin they so clearly require.

yeah, you are. mark isn't over admitting when he finds a guy cute, you can easily be described as such. there's something about the flicker of your eyes that entices him, but that's just.. strange.

he opts to rolling over, staring at his alarm clock nestled onto the bedside table. being kept up because you're stuck pondering about whether you're friend not friend is cute is absolutely idiotic. since when has this happened before?

that question is also idiotic, it hasn't.

he pulls the covers over him and nuzzles against his pillow, feigning ignorance to his flurry of thoughts with a sigh as he keeps the pattern of your moles pictured in his head.

thanksgiving breezes past just as it always does every year, donghyuck's family again comes over for the festivities ('festivities' equaling the sharing of meals while the two scarf down pretty much everything in the kitchen), but mark stays unfocused even with a bunch of people other than you around him.

then the end of november speed runs until mark's face scrunches at the upcoming first day of december.

december is too cold, there's no foresight of ice on the ground, no snow ready to sneak up on everybody just yet, but he doesn't care, he can already feel the grimace ready to be painted over his features.

and as the cold breeze balls up it's fist into an open punch, mark takes a small breath;

you said you hate winter.

mark gets it, but it's less of you hating winter and more of mark constantly thinking of.. well— you.

again, he doesn't exactly need to take history, the class is as useless to his academic record as it is interesting, but mark won't continue complaining, he's terrified mrs. lim can secretly read his mind.

"what class are you taking next semester?" mark whispers, leaning back in his seat as the widening of his eyes is in tune with his complete interest.

your shoulders rise in a puzzled shrug, the familiar drag of your pen now right in mark's ear. you don't make an effort to glance upward, but mark is aware you're paying adequate attention anyway. "not sure, they always tell me after, what are you taking?"

mark decides to completely scoot backward, the crack of knuckles causing for your face to scrunch. "computer programming".

there's a beam in your eyes. "as a senior?"

mark's snicker is a result of your tone. "it's for last minute credits, just like this class.."

"ah".

you again engross yourself in whatever it is you're doing in your notebook, mark attempts to sneak a glance, but you seem to sense his eyes, as you flip the page upward where his eyes can't meet it.

well shit, you caught him.

yet you don't mutter a single word about the event which just transpired, you simply continue with the similar drag of your pen.

at this point, the sound is a puzzling solacing noise for mark. he'll never utter such words loudly though, it's strange to admit that the sound of someone drawing in their notebook has become a sense of comfort for you.

mark sometimes wonders how deep the corners of his mind expand. "finals week is coming up".

you hum in reply, nodding your head, pen seemingly having a mind of it's own. mark glances over, unable to decipher the gleam of your eyes. it could be irritation, or maybe it's satisfaction, you're confident in the strength of your brain, it doesn't seem like you would struggle.

your eyes flit up for a moment, and then you snicker for a reason completely unknown to mark. "you nervous?" he decides to quip.

another hum. "always, but i trust most of my intellect".

"you should, you're very smart".

the compliment is spontaneous, an abrupt uttering that you clearly weren't expecting, as heat coils against your skin, the reddish tint clashing with your once vain cheeks. your lips part, the dragging of your pen subsides. you then glance away as you clear your throat, blowing smoke through your lips.

"i'm sure you'll be fine" mark finally finishes, big eyes bugging out as he decides to avert his gaze. "don't give me that look, i've observed, you have one of the highest grades in the class".

"it's all just.. nothing".

mark decides to snicker. "not nothing, you have the ability".

"i guess i'll take your word for it" tease lingers on your tongue. "smartest kid in class after all".

there, now you two are even. you just complimented mark with words that he hears from people everywhere, but hearing them from you is what gets a stupid smile out of him. "oh.. well i don't know about that one".

mark tucks a strand behind his ear, the slightest bit of meekness displayed by his eyes. your eyes flitter upward, and the curve of your lips is satisfying. "yeah you do, you're smart, honor roll smart".

"i would say you're the same".

you long to take those words as a challenge, mark notices a certain burning in your eyes, but you opt to a small smile instead. "not enough for honors".

"well i think so".

and maybe, that's the only thing that matters. your face appears to light up, but you decide it's best to not comment on such a thing.

as the colder days approach, mark learns even more about you he doesn't exactly expect.

and it all comes through smoking.

"what?"

you seem amused by the inquiry asked of you, and mark's eyes widen in their usual jolted fashion, his hands clutching at his sides. you seem to look through him, humor still present in your tone as you reply; "did you just.. you smoke?"

mark clears his throat, eyes immediately averting, his gaze zeroing in on the visible air he can see being blown through his lips. "it's like a— um, anxiety tick thing, sometimes when i get overwhelmed it helps".

you bite into your cheek, shoving a hand into your pocket as you rummage for a while, pulling out a lighter which you shake in air, listening to the clinking of the metal. mark's eyes again bug out, a usual reaction for him, his expression reminiscent of a child hearing someone swear for the first time. "oh.. so you smoke?"

you pass the lighter, whistling in the air as you nod. "yeah, same thing really, it's not regular or anything i just sometimes need to let go".

mark longs to ask why, and you practically read his mind with the words displayed all over his face. "my parents are such amazing stressors, it'd be a shock if i didn't smoke at this point".

he can only stare, blowing smoke out from his lips as he watches it form in front of him. "it gets bad for me during exam season, finals get to my head and i can't resist".

"your parents don't know?"

mark shakes his head rapidly back and forth, a snicker falling from his lips. "nope, i think they would kill me if they found out.. can't let them know".

you opt to once again humming, shoving the lighter back in your pocket as your nose scrunches. you scratch behind your ear, howling winds earning the slightest shiver from you. "ah, i see".

mark keeps himself silent, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he stares forward, his eyes then falling to the ground. it's bare, empty, the sight of snow may meet his eyes in the coming days, maybe tomorrow even, the weather has always been know as unpredictable, a snowstorm could happen tonight, mark is afraid of that one.

"please don't tell anyone" mark whispers, eyes still cast downward. it's embarrassing, not even donghyuck knows that he does, and he's sure donghyuck is a smoker himself. he isn't exactly sure why.. he just knows what the reaction would be. "it's.. um, i don't know actually, feels like everyone thinks of me as a certain person so if they were to find out—"

"i won't tell" you state immediately, raising your pinky. "you have my word" is your next collection of words, mark blinks at you with shining eyes.

a pinky promise? he isn't sure what he expected, but he guesses they are the closest thing to a legally binding agreement.

mark intertwines his pinky with yours, the clash of your fingers together something of a prospect. your finger is rough, his are soft, he can't help but keep that fact tucked away in his mind. "pinky swear?"

"pinky swear".

mark decides he will take your word for it.

he supposes pinky swears do a lot for people, as long as the promise isn't broken, he won't have a reason as to not trust you.

IT'S A WEEK BEFORE FINALS WHEN MARK REALIZES yet another thing he doesn't exactly mean to discover. your simply.. esteemed love for thai food is a prospect he didn't exactly expect, but with a week until finals and the end of the year breathing down your neck, he guesses learning more about you is the right way to go. he wonders if there'll be many more turns to take in the future, he wonders how much truly runs through your heads. through picking your nails and raising eyebrows, he's already been able to decipher a lot, maybe he could just learn more if..

"do you know any good thai restaurants nearby?" he inquires, arms placed idly as he again admires your side profile. you hum, scratching at the sleeves of your sweater. it's a pretty one, the hue is a dark red, mark is curious on if the shades of red are your favorite, he forgets to ask.

your snort is short. "not in this town, it's a distance away from here, used to go regularly as a kid, it'll never get old.."

"so it's like.. a place of comfort?"

"basically" you reply, getting comfortable in your chair. it's the midway point of the period, the class is doing nothing but studying for finals next week, it leaves room for flurries of conversations mark otherwise wouldn't have been able to have with you.

it's nice, discussions flow a little easier between you two now that you've gotten slightly closer. though skepticism remains at an all time high (mark picks up on the mutters you occasionally let slip about your parents, something along the lines of fighting, loose funds, substances, his eyebrows keep furrowed), mark finds the now regular talks a fond juncture.

he rests his head onto his fist, scratching at his jaw with mid length nails. "when was your last visit?"

you shrug despite clearly knowing your response, arms coming to fold over your chest. "i haven't gone since high school began, makes sense because that's when i got put with.. them".

'them' equating to your current foster parents, mark unconsciously slides downward in his seat, anxiety rising. he observes the twitching of your left eye, a sight almost frightening.

"do you— um.. can you go again?"

your right eye closes, a sign of your contemplation. "they're.. my parents, they're crazy".

"have you never attempted to sneak?"

you chuckle, seemingly amused. "really? sneaking? i would've never thought that from you".

"i took part a few times, you could thank donghyuck for that one" mark keeps his head leaned sideways, it's easy to admire your features in this manner. you have a nice side profile, the left of your jaw perfectly highlighted in the lighting of the room. your lips curve upward at the reply, enjoyment behind your eyes.

"oh, i see, you're that kind of pair".

mark longs to figure out the meaning of those words, but you once again begin whistling, arms folding over your chest.

a specific question keeps echoing in mark's mind.

"you could.. uh— why don't we go together?"

you blink, dumbfounded. you study mark for a moment, and he suddenly feels unconscious under your gaze. you then silently snicker, just the slightest bit amused. "what?"

his hands find purchase on the desk before him, eyes avoiding yours, throat clearing. "um.. i just— i don't know, you seem to be fond of the place, wouldn't visiting be nice?"

your eyes narrow. "you're so.. wow, okay".

you chuckle, hiding your oncoming expression behind the cover of your own hands. mark remains anxious at the lack of a reply, nails coming to scratch at his hands. "is that a no?"

"no, no! you're just.. too sweet" you opt to reply, laughter carrying you through. mark feels heat coil over his cheeks, he's sure that it may manifest in color which permeates his skin, but he can't exactly think about that.

"oh, um— i.."

"while i would love to go" you begin, smoothing your hands over your jeans. "that's implying i have to sneak out".

oh, mark can't believe how dangerously impulsive he is.

but instead of a snark, you smile, it's small, yet it results in genuine ease sinking into mark's anxiety ridden heart, his hands coming to clasp together. "that was a dumb thing to say right? i'm sorry, forget i even said anything".

you contemplate for a moment, mark's anxiety again rising as your silence merely continues. "that's a good idea, it'd be nice to go before it starts snowing".

mark almost dies, was that just a yes?

you seemingly read his mind, because your lips do a swift upturn. "i guess i wouldn't mind sneaking out".

mark blinks, attempting to properly register the words without looking like a crazy person. "i didn't— i mean.. you don't have to, i don't want to get you in trouble, if it does—"

"doesn't matter" you cross your arms, leaning back in your seat. "at this point, getting grounded is a blessing for me, it's not that far a walk".

"are you sure?"

you lick your teeth. "i've been conditioned to hide my money better, they barely pay any attention to me".

mark digests the depression littering those words, but you keep up appearances, preventing the dejection from blossoming up in your features. there's shy disappointment behind your eyes, yet you don't comment. "i'm sorry.."

your head snaps in his direction rather quickly. "for what?"

mark shakes his head in reply. "i.. um—"

"don't apologize for something that isn't your fault".

mark bites his tongue before he allows for another apology to slip, your eyebrow raise simply enough to shut him up. you remain the slightest bit terrifying, even after established friendship. "can't help it.."

he picks at his nails, feeling the burning sensation of your eyes on the spot. he guesses his anxiety is really that permeable, and he longs to change the topic. "let's just hope the grades are good, yeah?"

"are you saying you wanna be study buddies?"

"i mean.. that's sort of how our relationship began" one click to your pen, mark tilts his head at the sight of your notebook. it's a simple hardcover, no label, a blank dark shade, yet it seems to carry a large entailing of significance, just like the pen, it has to contain something of an emotional connection to you, maybe, similarly to mark, you form attachments to even the smallest of things.

the use of the word 'relationship' earns a puzzling manner of expression, as if you have to rethink how you two interacted before the establishment of.. your now larger bond.

"that's cute".

you again open your notebook, yet another click to your pen as you begin.. something. mark has never been courageous enough to inquire about it to you, but he assumes there's some length of artistic expression in your personality, or maybe you just really enjoy writing, or you just scribble back and forth. really, mark can't assume what he doesn't know, and maybe you just don't want to divulge such a thing, he doesn't mind.

he simply observes, staring for long enough that you catch sight of it through your peripheral vision. "you'll do well, alright?"

you glance over at him, as if puzzled by the sudden reassurance. mark almost worries that you'll punch him in the face, his mind really needs to stop going down that route. "alright, let's hope you give me your luck".

MARK IS SURE HE COULD PERFECTLY RECITE EVERY SINGLE printed word in the several textbooks he's been staring at with nothing but pure disgruntlement for these past few days. there's a flurry of muddled information swirling around in his brain, he's afraid he might be taking a history quiz and begin scribbling down the formula of quotient entities. the many trigonometry equations have begun rotting him from the inside out, you've practically been an angel of a study buddy for these past few days, even despite the many whispers you let slip about you sleeping through pretty much all of trigonometry. you have strikingly straight notations, not even a letter out of place, penned compositions littering each page.

he can barely help the upturn of his lips.

"didn't you take trig last year? you're supposed to remember these things".

mark keeps his forehead pressed to the desk, the cool air just barely disturbing him. "trig is pretty much useless, math isn't my strong suit".

your eyebrows furrow. "you still got an a".

mark scoffs. "wow, thanks for supporting me with my endless struggle".

your chuckles now appear much more vibrant, some timidity remains, but it's better than how it all was in september, the change jumps out to mark, you're just so—

"you sound defeated, don't worry mark, you're still honor roll smart".

his heart constricts for a moment, and while he would usually be worried he was experiencing some length of a health risk, he knows it isn't that (but he guesses you could result in a heart attack, you're simply very..), but he can never be too sure.

your handwriting is irritatingly neat, nothing of an observable mistake despite pen clearly being used. is it the same pen? do you keep pens? do you like pens? his intrigue towards you could extend for miles, but he lets it stay inward no matter what.

your eyes gleam with the light of an indescribable entity. "do you.. would you still want to go out to eat on friday?"

mark blinks, contemplating despite the very much known answer. "yeah, i brought it up, if it makes you happy.."

"well you should also think about yourself, if you don't want to go—"

"no, no! i do" mark unfortunately can't arise much excuses for his sudden enthusiasm. he notices the amusement on your own features, but he doesn't make a comment. "besides, we won't see much of each other next week, and then the break will come right after".

winter break is usually its own blessing in mark's eyes, but there's this strange installment of fear this year. he isn't sure the extent your parents go, no signs of anything physical that he can see, yet he worries about you just having to be there for a length of almost two weeks. from what he's observed, school seems to be your only source of escape from whatever goes on at home, and he's aware that a student's safe place being school is typically a bad sign.

but maybe that's too much to just tell you right off the bat, you might think he's crazy, you probably already think he's a little crazy.

"aww, you're gonna miss me".

and mark is unsure of why, but a red hue strikes his formerly vain skin, it's simply mindless teasing, yet he can't help his flustered nature. jesus, he might actually have a heart attack, why did the room suddenly spike in temperature?

if you notice, you make no comment. oh that must've been a good ego boost.

"yeah um.. we've really come a long way since september".

he's sounding a little too sentimental, a break really is nothing, mark guesses donghyuck was right, he does care way too much, even so, he feels it's justified. you stare for a moment, scribbling something in your notebook as your gaze averts. "thanks for not giving up on me, even if i was an unbearable asshole in the beginning".

"don't say that" mark softly chides.

"it's pretty true, you can admit it".

he clears his throat, smile displayed. "so are you gonna come to me friday?"

you nod. "if i don't get caught".

mark doesn't mean to showcase his anxiety in the manner of his expression switch, but hiding his lingering fright has proven him extremely difficult, his mother said it's 'detrimental' to commit such an act.

you tilt your head. "are you okay?"

mark nods much too quickly, rendered somewhat speechless. "fine".

the rest of the day is surprisingly less awkward than he expects.

the week completely exhausts mark, he could probably hang onto his own eye bags at this point. though you feign bright normalcy, it's obvious that you're just as tired, you'll both be wiped out after finals.

yet you seem pretty lighthearted.

"you sure walking is just fine?"

"we could hop the train".

a small frown tugs at mark's lips, but the joke isn't exactly distasteful. "i've never gotten that far" the overcast sky clashes with your dark jacket, it's somewhat of a picturesque image, your best features are explicitly highlighted, even with the shadowed sunlight.

"really? i did once in eighth, the conductor let us off at the middle of nowhere, we got a terrible scolding after that one".

mark's eyebrows furrow, there's a lack of context in that reply, as if you said it to yourself instead of to mark. "us?"

your nose scrunches for a minute. "old foster friend, i used to do everything to get in trouble, he'd tag along for the adventure of it".

"oh".

mark doesn't mean to extend the silence, but talking isn't anything of an accord to you, it's easy to sink into a fit of silence, nothing of a bother.

things appear so young and innocuous outside, sometimes mark believes that nature could be the perfect picture of innocence, if it didn't also harbor an equal opportunity of available danger. he shivers, almost slipping on ice which lays dormant on the floor, no snow yet.

mark wishes he could have not a care in the world, and judging by your circumstances, you clearly do too.

the place is a way's walk, but mark guesses it was good to get in some steps. it appears pretty homely, somewhat aged, the walls are cracked, tiles exposed, and from the captured glimpse of the menus, they're old laminated ones.

you stare with fondness, the smell bringing a sense of warmth to you, as if the place healed your scars. "basically, this place is my home".

"is the food up to par?"

"you don't even have to ask".

mark chuckles, and you can't resist your own corresponding chuckle.

"y/n? is that you?"

at the call of your name you blink, smiling right away. it's an older woman, early fifties probably, her jaw hanging in a manner of recognition. "oh you're so big now!"

"hi mrs. saeng" you don't step away, instead you allow for her to fully embrace you, mark simply observing. "sorry, i know last time i said my next visit would be soon".

"oh it doesn't matter, you're still so adorable!" she squeals as she cups your cheeks, completely rendering you speechless. "and your friend is..?"

"mark" you just barely speak through the squeezing of your cheeks. "he's my classmate".

the woman smiles, a huge, homely smile that strikes comfort mark wasn't exactly expecting. his hands come to clasp in front of him, the typical sweet smile taking over his features. "hi, it's nice to meet you".

she gapes in her spot. "he's even cuter than you! oh my goodness look at his cheeks!"

your nose scrunches up in offense, yet it's clearly feigned. "cuter than me? that's rude to say auntie!"

she crazily fawns before you sit, and as you observe the laminated menus which appear on their last lives, your lips take an upturn, but not at a specific thing, simply at them. "auntie?" he inquires.

you snicker. "there's no relation, she's just an old family friend".

auntie by association, mark guessed that one, he again didn't recognize any sort of relation between you two.

and really, it seems you haven't eaten in a while, mark can't help but observe the tiny things. "did you have breakfast this morning?"

you pause, pretending you are genuinely contemplating something. he's pretty sure you burn your tongue midway through inhaling the bouts of food, yet that seems to be the last of your worries, he can't help the goofy laughter which escapes him at that. "it upsets my stomach".

mark doesn't bother inquiring about lunch, his gaze immediately softening. "you need to make sure you always eat, okay?"

you stare, mark supposes the words appear a bit shallow. sometimes people can barely get out of bed, not even able to roll over to throw off their covers, or fold their blankets, or they find themselves rendered so exhausted that mundane tasks extract so much energy.

but it seems you reply with a soft gaze of your own, radiance carrying your expression. "okay".

mark hums, leaning back in his seat. "so what is this place to you?"

you don't even glance upward. "special spot, it holds good memories, from way before everything that's happened.. well— happened".

"you brought me to your special spot, so i'm special?"

you finally do spare a glance, your smile is one of the prettiest sights ever. "of course".

a smile blossoms over his features, his posture unconsciously straightening. he isn't sure why the news excites him so much, he'll internalize it though.

WHEN IT GETS TO A CERTAIN POINT, MARK IS UNSURE OF HOW HE LIVES through the week. he has always prided himself on his intelligence, it isn't the topics which perturb him, it's the extent of his own mind. his eyes grow heavier with each passing day, his wrists may have gone limp, but he doesn't pass out just yet, a good record in comparison to last year. it's simply exam after exam after exam, blue pen marks clashing in the visions of his dreams. he can't even close his eyes without seeing muddled geometric equations, he's going to begin reciting them in the startling mumbles midway through one of his sleepwalking episodes. it's a miracle how he makes it through finals week, but he does, possibly no bad markings.

the exams happen to be the least of his issues though, throughout his week, he was mainly stuck on christmas, specifically stuck on christmas gifts, specially stuck on christmas gifts for you.

again, you two only have one double period class together, and the week is full of packet after packet, nothing of a technical interaction going down. the somewhat date-y nature of your restaurant outing comforted him through the piercing manner of trigonometry, he guesses it's pretty funny.

mark's mind reverts back to the many moments of you scribbling with your pen in your notebook, the specific mini sketches you have kept placed beside your trig notations, and it becomes clear what he should get you as a gift.

when the week finally comes to a close, mark is simply glad that he's alive, glad that the information didn't all mix into mush, glad that he got a seemingly perfect gift for you.

"okay, how do you think you did?"

a scrunch of your nose is the opted response, but you don't seem any worried. "it should all be fine, i think all the information seeped into my brain".

the reply draws a chuckle, mark allowing for his head to tip downward. "you're probably the reason i passed, have some faith in yourself".

"hey, you have to give yourself some credit too, you're pretty much a genius".

mark, again, blushes. he doesn't mean for it all to shine through, he simply can't help it. you're much too sweet, even through your whispered compliments, terms shyly spilling from your lips while your head remains downturned.

it's.. cute.

you begin picking at your nails, clearing your throat. mark smiles at you; "thanks, but i really couldn't have done it without you".

you definitely want to argue with that, but your mouth plops shut, your eyes darting away. "i'm so fucking tired".

"maybe you should sleep through this break".

you giggle at that one, eyes seemingly getting heavier. "sleeping is really all i can do anyway",

mark hums, attempting to inconspicuously eye the box he carried all around the day. he pays a few glances between before taking in a huge breath, a breath which you causes the furrow of your brows. "um.. uh— okay, don't freak out".

apparently those words do a lot, as you let out possibly the loudest laugh ever since you two became friends. something about his delivery possibly, the amusement manifests in your movement, much less in your laughter. "are you gonna pull out a gun or something?"

mark frowns, true annoyance in naught. "no, i just have a gift for you and i don't—"

your laughter comes to an immediate stop, head tilting sideways, puzzled. "you.. what?"

mark blanks for a moment, the words disappearing into the air. "christmas is coming up, i uh.. you know we won't see each other during christmas, so i got you something".

you blink, dumbfounded, absolutely staggered, as if the act is terribly unheard of. you almost appear terrified, a callback to the moment where you called mark a weirdo for his regard when your knuckles were aptly split.

you're sending him one of those looks.

"why would you— did you spend your own money why would you do that?"

and there's less of disbelief there, more of guilt, guilt mark can't idly place. you shouldn't feel guilty for anything, yet you seem to. "hey, it's okay, it was all in my own will, just open it".

mark is even more excited than you, sliding the completely totally cynical box over despite your insanely watchful eye. your facial muscles twitch in desperation to display your own enthusiasm, but you somehow keep it at bay.

your fingers twitch. "what is it?"

"that would ruin the surprise".

mark is very impatient, tapping his feet incessantly, fingers again coming to repeat the act in a somewhat similar rhythm. you stare down the box, possibly hoping for it to open itself. he begins getting anxious after a moment, the less than rapid unwrapping keeping a tension in the air.

you seem to want to take your time, as if fearing as creature hidden in the box. mark places his hands in his lap, gazing endlessly.

when you finally pear into it, you again tilt your head, blinking. "holy shit".

mark snickers, that has to be a good one. "yeah".

"how did you— why did you— oh my god.."

it's simple, but mark was aware it would have the desired effect. you stare downward, completely and utterly astonished, you don't expect it, of course you don't, yet the reaction is great for mark.

you're out of words for a moment, so mark decides to take that time; "i sort of observed— i mean.. i figured you liked drawing, art, saw your notebook, saw your sketches, it seemed like the perfect gift to get you".

you blink again, simply pure devotion behind your eyes, as if you were one term from confessing your love to him. it's a art set, a cute kit consisting of colored pencils, markers, and even paintbrushes, it looks.. expensive. "how much..?"

"it doesn't matter" he cuts in, clasping his hands. "i wanted to get you something".

that should be enough.

you seem to struggle with what to say, unable to find the exact words until your lips begin trembling. "thank you, i don't know how to repay you".

"you don't have to".

a frown tugs at your lips, you clearly don't like the sound of that one. "i'll get you a gift of your own after the break, don't worry".

mark's nose scrunches, but he can't argue with you, because he really does want a gift, yearns to see what it may all add up to. he clears his own throat, hands smoothing over his thighs.

"i just wanted to get you something because—"

"i know, thank you".

he can't even help staring in the manner he does, his lips taking an upturn, eyes holding remaining regard he's always known he felt.

"it's nothing".

well, mark guesses it is something, he just has to figure out what something exactly entails.

92 notes · View notes