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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Black Waltz [1/2]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 [Finale]

➜ Words: 13.2k

➜ Genres: 70% Fluff, 30% Angst, Butler!AU

➜ Summary: When your parents pass away in an accident, a family secret is revealed. The only person you can trust and rely on is your personal butler, Kim Taehyung.

The caskets are small. You’re not sure why but you always imagined that they’d be bigger. The undertaker already reassured you thrice that the bodies of your parents fit perfectly. Perhaps they were always that small. “Poor girl.” Someone murmurs in the corner, not realizing that you can hear above the discordant sobs. “She’s already such a weak child. How will she handle this?” “How do you suppose?” a man replies in a sharp mutter. “She’s just become one of the richest people in Trulia overnight. Look at this entire estate. All thanks to her father’s watch business.” “Will you have more delicacy?” she bites back in a whisper. “A man and woman just died.” You don’t bother looking at them. You don't cry either. Not a single tear sheds down your cheeks as you look through your netted veil to the closed coffins belonging to your parents. Even the gardener is sobbing into his hat, but you don’t. Your expression remains stoic. A man approaches, dark hair and darker suit. He bows his head towards the caskets and then turns to you standing by. You recognize him the few times you saw him in passing. He’s your father’s worker, Yoongi. “My condolences, Miss Y/N.” “Thank you.” “Your father was a great man. It was a privilege to work under his guidance. I’m sorry this happened.” You nod and he takes that you don’t want to extend the conversation and leaves you be. It was an unfortunate accident. More specifically, a railroad accident. It claimed the lives of many and that also included your parents coming home from a trip to Germany. “Eugene!” Suddenly, Uncle Seokjin throws himself over the casket. A few distraught folks try to pull him back, but he continues to howl, “How could you leave your only brother like this!” Aunt Marie cries louder into her handkerchief. It’s noisy. In the midst of the ruckus, the corner of your eye catches an older man with brunette hair. The wrinkles crease around his eyes with his sorrowful expression and he takes off his top hat as he approaches. You watch as he places a rose in front of your mother’s casket and then he turns to leave without addressing you. “Oh, Y/N!” Your attention is ripped away by your hysterically sobbing uncle grabbing your hands. “Poor Y/N!” Someone takes him away before you get the chance to shove him off. // Everyone gathers in the dining room not even a full day after the funeral. The wallpaper is dark, black trim that matches the hardwood. The long table is mahogany and there’s an unnecessary golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling. You’ve always hated this room and its decorations, especially the heavy curtains that block out the sunlight. “Y/N!” Your uncle draws out your name and smiles widely as he comes before you with open arms. He gives you a quick squeeze much to your dismay and then lets go. The middle-aged man searches your expression. “My favourite niece.” “I’m your only niece.” “Which makes you even more special to me.” His words are sweet. He shakes his head. “What did you ever do to deserve this?” You wonder the same thing. Aunt Marie clears her throat and Uncle Seokjin flounders. “Right, right, we should take our seats.” Your eyes lift to your cousin who smiles at you, dressed in a navy frock coat with an ascot tie. “It’s been a while, Y/N. I didn’t think you’d notice but I was greeting guests at the funer—” “I noticed.” You cut Hoseok off mid-sentence with his mouth still open. Aunt Marie chastised him under her breath to sit down and at the same time, the family lawyer enters with his briefcase. He’s been working with your family before you were even born. You could feel his sincerity when he spoke at the memorial. “Good evening everyone. Y/N.” Mr. Kim — Namjoon as your parents familiarly called him — nods at you in sympathetic acknowledgment and takes his place at the head of the table where your father once sat. He reaches for his briefcase and opens it up for a sealed envelope inside. “I never thought there would be a day like this. Most unfortunate indeed.” “A heartbreaking tragedy,” Aunt Marie agrees. “But no time like the present for us to fulfill their last wishes.” Mr. Kim slips out the crisp papers and then his eyes flicker up at you. You subtly motion to him that you’re ready for it to be read and he clears his throat. Your relatives are sitting on the edge of the seats, hands clasped on the table in anticipation. “I, Arden Eugene, resident in the City of Lennox, Country of Trulia, being of sound mind, declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, hereby revoking all prior wills and codicils made by me. I appoint my wife, Arden Hana, to inherit all my assets.” The lawyer continues, “In the event where my wife is unable to inherit...all my assets, including the investments, savings and the estate, liquid and otherwise, I leave my daughter, Arden Y/N, in their entirety.” Your aunt’s jaw ticks, your uncle has a face of disgust and your cousin’s jaw has dropped. You’re not sure why they’re so offended. It’s not a surprise. This is what you expected. That is until Mr. Kim adds the word— “temporarily.” Your head turns. The lawyer’s mouth continues to move. “Until the date and time when her half-sibling will be found.” You’re not sure what happens first. The gasps echoing in your ears, Aunt Marie nearly falling off her seat in laughter, your uncle standing up from his spot, or your own heartbeat thundering in your ears as blood drains from your face. You feel ill, like you might throw up right on the table. A half-sibling. Another child. There was another child all along. “—to which ownership of all asserts will thereby be shifted onto them.” “What is the meaning of this?!” Uncle Seokjin protests. “What child?!” “I’m sorry, Mr. Arden. I only know as much as you do.” Mr. Kim’s eyes place on you before he resumes reading. “I give my daughter, Arden Y/N, a pocket watch.” The amused snicker of your aunt is all too clear. A small box is placed in front of you. It’s the size of your hand, a deep wine red. For a moment, you want to huck it on the floor, but with your breath held in your throat, you nudge the lid open. It’s a perfectly round contraption, the cover golden and perfectly polished, reflecting against the candlelight. You flip it open to find handles ticking away as seconds and minutes pass. “To my brother, Seokjin, my sister, Marie, and her son, Hoseok, I wish them the very best in the rest of their lives.” Aunt Marie scoffs. Uncle Seokjin collapses back onto his seat. The will is finished being read and the paper is folded. The room is full of a tense silence as you stare at the watch. Mr. Kim clears his throat again. “As you are aware of the laws, Y/N, all assets are entitled to you temporarily. But as you have no husband to collect the inheritance, it makes things a bit more complicated. You may still live at this estate and continue the company, but you cannot alter it in any way. That includes liquidating, removing, expanding, or withdrawing. You do not have the jurisdiction to alter the company or any of the investments either.” Everything is essentially frozen. They left you with nothing. “Yes.” The corner of Aunt Marie’s lip curls and she sits back. “Even if you are twenty one, you need a husband to own land and wealth. Trulia’s quite old-fashioned, isn’t it?” Trulia — a small country that bridges France and England together, cutting the English channel into half. You’ve lived here all your life, born and raised, and never hated it more. “Y/N.” Hoseok breaks your train of thought and you look him in the eyes. Your expression remains impassive. “Did you know you had a sibling?” You hate it all. // The bedroom is shrouded in darkness as you sit back in the armchair. You’re loosely holding the cold, golden chain of the pocket watch, studying it as it swings back and forth. It’s like a clam, but without any engravings, designs or even ridges on the surface. It’s heavy, perfectly new and polished, the time precise. When both handles of the pocket watch come to twelve, the grandfather clock from downstairs chimes throughout the mansion. Your other hand crumples into a fist and with a strangled cry in your throat, you hurl the pocket watch across the room with all your might. It clatters to the ground, ear-splitting. A figure emerges from the shadows, leans down and picks it up with his white gloves. “Madam, are you not well?” “Don’t call me madam,” you snap at him. Taehyung comes closer, his dark hair slicked back, dressed in the usual black tailcoat and trousers. His smile is tender. “You are the head of the household now.” Arm propped up on the armrest, you press your hand to your forehead. “It makes me feel old.” “Then I won’t, my lady. I apologize.” He places the pocket watch on the vanity table and comes to your side. You look up at him, wondering if you look as bitter as you feel. “Even when they’re dead, they have to have the last laugh, Taehyung. They spared me nothing.” Your eyes sting painfully, the lump at the bottom of your throat aching. Anger has coloured your vision red. You’re so full of hate, but you wonder why most of all, it hurts. “I can’t believe my parents didn’t love me even after their death.” Taehyung kneels and takes your hands that are crumpled hard enough that your nails sink into your skin. He earnestly gazes at you. “You have me. I’ll be with you until the end.” He promises it rather recklessly. But he’s more than just your butler. More than just a worker in this house. He’s been a friend since childhood. The only one you can fully trust. Taehyung’s expression softens even more and he reaches out. He hugs you, propping your chin on his shoulder, placing his arms around your back. “You can cry.” You scoff. “You’re stepping over the line.” “Then discipline me.” You bite the inside of your cheek, vision becomes foggy as tears hang onto your lash line. “Why should I cry for those people? If...if anything, I should cry for my own circumstances.” Taehyung smiles. “Cry then.” For the first time, you let go. You sob into his shoulder, grasp his coat with tight fingers, allowing yourself to be at grief’s mercy. Wails choke out of your chest and the thick lump finally escapes your throat, leaving it raw and aching in a different way. The tears stain a path down from your welling eyes to your cheeks and then Taehyung’s shoulder like a chilling rainstorm. It feels like minutes tick away until you’ve cried yourself to exhaustion. By then, you’re so weak and you can barely open your swollen eyes. But Taehyung guides you to bed and pulls the covers. He tucks you in, making sure you’re warm. “Get some sleep.” You nod and he extinguishes the flame in the oil lamp. Sleep comes easier than you expect. // When dawn arrives, the light of the sun comes through the white curtains to cast against your eyes. You stir uncomfortably before your lids flutter open. The world is bleary in your fogged vision and your body is heavy. You don’t want to get up, but you have to. “Good morning, mistress.” Taehyung enters, dressed in his black trousers and tailcoat with a white waistcoat underneath. His hair is pushed back in a windswept look. He sets down the golden tray balancing a water bowl and cloth. “Glad to see you’re already awake.” “Couldn’t sleep more if I wanted to.” You round the bed and collect the water to wash your face before pressing the cloth to your skin. Taehyung steps towards your wardrobe. “Would you like me to replace the curtains?” “It’s fine. I don’t want to wear anything too restricting today.” He hums. “Then will an aesthetic dress do? Green?” “Is there a dark blue?” Taehyung swiftly takes out a simple gown, cut loosely with a few frills at the neckline and a red, ribbon sash around the waist. The shade is a midnight blue and perfectly to your tastes as if he read your mind. It’s without any restrictive corset too. Heaven knows today is going to be suffocating enough, you don’t need to make it more difficult for yourself. You stand in front of the three panel mirror folded into a nook and lift your arms up. Without batting a single lash or looking twice, Taehyung undresses you from the silk sleepwear and helps you into the camisole before draping the dress over your figure. You sit at the vanity and he gently brushes out your hair. “Taehyung.” “Yes, my lady?” You look at him through the mirror. “Do you think I can do this?” His eyes flicker up and he smiles. “Of course you can.” “What if they don’t find me intimidating enough?” “Then I’ll stand beside you and help you with that.” What he says has you bursting out in laughter. You spin around in your seat, and Taehyung’s completely unsuspecting when you squeeze his cheeks together. His rounded eyes blink and his lips mimic a fish’s. It makes you grin. “You’re more of a puppy than a guard dog.” But well, you suppose it’s not important what the truth is. The illusion is what matters most. He pins half of your hair up and you barely powder your face before you’re leaving for the family meeting. On the way, you brace yourself, only temporarily interrupted by the gardener, Park Jimin, a man who’s been working on the estate for the past three years. He takes care of the garden well, better than your mother ever could. Her roses always withered. He, on the other hand, has quite the green thumb. “Good morning, madam.” Jimin greets you merrily. “Good morning, Jimin.” You slow in the entrance hall and Taehyung behind you does as well. “I hope you and the others are doing well. Thank you for still being here.” The young male blushes. “We’re just doing our jobs, ma’am. You already gave us a whole week’s break which we’re more than thankful for. We just had to come back for the funeral to honour Mr. and Mrs. Arden. So there’s no need to worry about us.” “I’m glad then.” Your smile eases. “Please continue, don’t let me stop you.” He nods and goes on his way. The moment Jimin’s gone, your expression hardens as you enter the main lounge area. There your uncle, aunt, and cousin are seated around and you recognize your father’s worker, Yoongi as well. You’re not sure since when this house became a guest home where anyone can enter and loiter in as they please. You’ll have to have a word with Taehyung later. “Y/N! My dear niece!” Uncle Seokjin’s loud and he stands from the armchair with an enormous smile that looks like it’s about to break his face. At that, everyone’s head swivels around. Yoongi slowly rises from his seat as well. But your uncle continues, “I hope you had a good sleep. I could barely get a wink thinking about your father and our happy days. Speaking of which, I was thinking about how empty this house will be with your parents gone. Isn’t it time for you to get married? You’ve been of age for a while. I happen to know this very kind young man from England. His name is Mark. I’d be happy to introduce—” “Uncle Seokjin.” You stop him. “I’d rather not have you speak about my private affairs in front of a stranger.” His pupils flicker to Yoongi and his mouth closes with a smile. “Right.” You turn to said man and he nods his head in acknowledgment. “Would you like to have tea in the parlor?” “No, this will only take a moment. I’m sure you’re already busy. My apologies for coming unannounced.” “It’s not a problem. What is this about?” “Your father’s company,” Yoongi says. “There is a client waiting for a shipment and since we closed we’ve been unable to finish the order. Would you like to refuse it?” “No. It’s fine.” You hold in your sigh and press your finger against your forehead for a moment. Then, you come to a decision. “You may continue and run business as usual. You may act as the temporary lead, Min Yoongi.” At the announcement, Hoseok rushes upwards with his jaw gone slack. “I could!” Heads turn towards him. “I-If you need me to! I could take over! T-Temporarily, of course!” Your eyes narrow into your cousin, your expression cold. “There’s no need, Hoseok. I’m sure Mr. Min here will already have his hands full. There'll be no time to properly train you and no way you could take over.” “But—!” You ignore him to address your father’s right hand. You’re not sure if this is the right decision, but Yoongi comes across as sensible and rational. He doesn’t seem to have any malicious intention or ulterior motives either. At least your father trusted him, so you will too. “I’ll take a look at the finances and figure out the details soon enough of where the company will move forward from now on. But for now, I will entrust you to it. Please proceed as you normally would.” Yoongi nods. “Thank you, Miss Y/N.” You shift on your feet and look to your butler whose height towers your own. “Taehyung, can you please see Mr. Min out?” He puts his gloved hand over his heart and bows. “Certainly.” The two men leave the room while your cousin crosses his arms and drops back down into the sofa with a displeased face. Aunt Marie’s eyes are narrowed in on you and she sighs, shaking her head. She comments, “You’re quite close with that butler of yours, Y/N. A bit too close, if you ask me.” Your brow cocks. “You don’t have any authority in this household to make such comments, Aunt Marie.” “I am merely looking out for you, Y/N,” she quips with an underlying sharpness to it. “You never know what rumours can get out and they can get quite nasty. It wouldn’t do you any good to be in a scandal. It’s best if you weren’t so close to the such lowly—” “I choose who I want to affiliate myself with.” Your voice booms throughout the room, unknowing to how Taehyung’s already returned and that he’s standing just outside of the room. “Taehyung is my most trusted confidant. To insult my personal aid is to insult my choices and thereby, me. From now on, I will not take such things lightly.” Aunt Marie shuffles back with a cough and the room’s swept into an uncomfortable silence. Taehyung smiles to himself and notices a timid maid rolling a cart down the hall towards the room. He takes over and dismisses her to which she’s grateful for, knowing the room is tense. But Taehyung is unaffected as he enters with an exaggeratedly cordial expression. He places down a cake stand of pastries on the table, then the teacups. “There, there. Let’s not get so upset in the morning.” Your uncle sits down and you find your place in front of the fireplace and the imposing family portrait above the mantle. In the meanwhile, Taehyung pours the tea with one hand in front of him. It’s earl grey, your favourite. You sip it warmly while your expression remains stoic. Uncle Seokjin clears his throat. “Your cousin, aunt and I have been discussing, Y/N—” “And?” He smiles. “We think it’s best if we...join forces.” The tea is no longer pleasant on your palate, so you set it down on the porcelain saucer. “How so?” “Well….” “We don’t know who this half sibling of yours is, Y/N,” your aunt cuts to the chase. “Who knows who they could be or what they would want with us! It is simply outrageous that an outsider could come and collect everything that your parents have worked so hard for and take everything away. Your father clearly had some misunderstandings when he gave us nothing and you so little. I believe he must not have been well when he wrote that will. There must be some mistake.” Uncle Seokjin nods and Hoseok finds the opportunity to jump in. “I have a friend who’s working in law. There must be ways we can challenge the will or at least find a way to claim back what should be rightfully ours!” ‘Rightfully ours’. You want to laugh. “So you want to sneak the money away?” “You shouldn’t put it that way.” Your uncle laughs heartily. “It’s more like making a wrong a right!” “Yes!” Hoseok enthusiastically nods. “We can’t just let someone else steal it, Y/N! What if tomorrow someone comes knocking on the door claiming to be your brother or sister, and they want to take everything away?” Aunt Marie offers a smile. “It’s best if we work together on this matter.” Taehyung steps behind you, shadowing your form as your relatives look at you expectedly. They have a point, but you’re not at all tempted by their most generous offer. “No.” “Pardon?” “I said no.” Your arms cross and you sit back. “Everything is already in my name, the estate, the investments, the company, albeit temporarily, but I’ll figure out what is to come on my own.” Hoseok’s mouth draws open. Your uncle is unable to muster a rebuttal. You scoff, rolling your eyes as if their very proposition is ridiculous. It’s too easy to play the villain — and it’s the only way you know how to protect yourself. “And why should I have to accept your help and have to split up my parents’ wealth when I can take it all for myself.” “Why you!” Aunt Marie stands up, face reddened. “Ingrate!” Her hand raises, arm extending back. But before she can slap you like she wants and knock your head to the side, Taehyung snatches her wrist. He’s faster than anyone can blink and he clutches her back, glare boring into her skin. Her teeth grit and she rips back her hand to her chest. You rise to your feet, eyes placed at the god awful antique cabinet on the other side of the room. “If that’s all everyone wants to say, then you can leave now. Thank you for coming to the funeral but from now on, none of you have permission to enter this estate until I announce otherwise.” Your aunt scoffs and with her remaining pride, she stomps out. Hoseok’s brows are knitted together at a loss while your uncle is already trying to reason with you. But you leave through the doorway and allow Taehyung to take care of the rest. // The streets are full in the afternoon bustle — hooves clacking as horses pull the street car, ladies with parasols giggling as they cross, shouting coming from the tenement windows above, wheels of the carriages rolling along the dirt. It’s the symphony of the city. But he leaves it all behind for a short carriage ride away. It’s a short uphill climb on foot that follows, but he swiftly gets to the magnificent mansion on a stretch of green behind black gates. It’s quaint here. A girl in a maid ensemble scurries over and opens up the gates for him. “Right this way.” The man is led up the path and he removes his top hat as he enters. The manor is darker on the inside, the wallpaper a deep shade, black trim matching the hardwood. He knows every inch of this place is ridden with wealth, from the chandeliers, the ornate carpet underneath his feet to the glass cabinets full of antiques. It’s old money that will last for centuries. But he doesn’t get to admire it for too long. A taller man with slicked back hair wearing a black tailcoat approaches. “If you’d follow me, sir.” He nods and silently shadows the butler to the west wing. They twist down the corridor before turning a left to two large doors. The butler opens them and he hesitantly enters after. There’s a figure behind the desk at the very back wall, an inked pen in her hand. He muses that the lady looks much too young to be residing so deep inside of this mansion surrounded in papers in the low lighting. She might be even younger than himself. “Taehyung, stay.” You mutter out of the corner of your mouth before he can leave. The doors shut and you finally look up as Taehyung takes his place beside you. “You are Detective Jeon?” He has brunette hair and brightened doe eyes, rather boyish looks overall. But you know better than to underestimate anyone simply based on appearances. “Yes, ma’am. I am Jeon Jungkook from the Bennett Detective Agency.” He comes up to you with his briefcase in hand and gingerly places a business card on the desk. “I believe you contacted me for a private investigation.” “Yes. I did.” You stand, going to the seating area and he follows suit. “Would you like tea?” “No, ma’am. I’m fine, but thank you very much.” You nod, noticing how Detective Jeon’s eyes flicker to Taehyung who comes to pour your cup. He finally asks, “How may I be of service?” You take a sip, savouring the flavour on your palate before placing the floral porcelain cup down. Your expression is indifferent as you sit back. “As you may have heard, my father and mother recently passed away in a railway accident.” “I read it from the newspaper. My condolences. Your father was a very charitable man and did a lot for Trulia.” “Yes, well, they left behind a will and revealed that I happen to have a half-sibling that is to inherit this estate.” It goes silent. A pin could drop in the room and echo. You inhale a breath and continue, “I want you to find this sibling of mine and tell me who they are, where they are, and what they’re doing. If you can do it, I’ll pay you a generous sum. However much you want. However long it takes.” Detective Jeon nods. He doesn’t seem too surprised or curious. You suppose he must be used to this sort of thing in his line of work. It was through your connections that you found him. He’s an upcoming private detective, but what he lacks in experience, he makes up in tenacity and foresight. He’s the best that Trulia has. “Do you have any leads?” You hum. It’s remarkable he asks that. You’ve been thinking about it — picking apart every single memory, all instances there could have been a hint, each time you could have been blinded to such a secret. “I don’t have any leads, but I have suspicions.” The detective leans in closer, doe eyes placed on yours. “I believe my sibling may be older than me and I believe contrary to any initial hunches, it may be my mother’s child.” Maybe your father knew and something had happened. Maybe he was ridden with guilt and that’s why he decided to give everything to your sibling. “I remember, years ago, my mother came in one drunken night and she told me about her previous lover. She was supposed to marry him and they even ran away together, but my grandparents found them and she was forced to marry my father. It’s possible that she may have had a child with him before I was born. And it may be possible he came to the funeral.” Detective Jeon takes out his notepad and begins scribbling. He bobs his head and you inhale a staggering breath as you continue to talk. You never thought you would have to divulge into your parents’ secrets after their death, that you would have to reveal all you know to a stranger. But you have to do what it takes if you want to find this person before your aunt and uncle do. “I saw a man about your height. He looked old, about fifty or so. He put a rose at my mother’s casket and left without speaking to me. I have never seen him before in my life.” “Did you see anything else about him?” “Nothing that would be helpful. He had brown hair, but he was wearing black as everyone else was. He left before I could get to him.” “Did your mother ever tell you anything else? Where they ran away to? What they were planning to do afterwards?” “No. She only ever spoke to me about it on that one occasion.” Frankly, you’re not sure if you want to know, but you push past the thought. Detective Jeon notes it and something prickles in your mind. “If you can, I want you to also look into Park Jimin as well.” His eyes lift off his paper. “He’s a gardener that works at this estate,” you tell him. “He’s always been close to my mother.” And unusually so. She never cared much for the help, but you’ve seen them walking together before and conversing on numerous occasions. “I’ll see what I can do for you.” The detective smiles and once the conversation concludes, he takes his briefcase. “Oh and Detective Jeon.” Your voice stops him on his way out and he turns. “It would be best if no one finds out about this, namely my relatives. They can be quite...nosy.” He looks at you and smiles. “Understood.” Taehyung sees him out and you take a moment to recline back into the armchair, gandering at the many bookcases lining the walls. You never thought you would one day sit in your father’s study like this. He was in here more often than any other room and somehow, it always seemed so big when you were a child. Taehyung comes back within minutes and you can tell by the expression on his face that he has questions. The corner of your mouth tugs and you languidly bat your hand. “Ask away.” “What are you planning to do when you find them?” “I’ll kill them, of course.” You get onto your feet, slowly rounding the desk. There’s a glass paperweight on the surface and you pick it up to fiddle with it. There’s a floral print inside and it catches the light no matter what direction you turn it to. You gave this to your father for his birthday one year. “I can’t return to being that naive person like you hope I will, Taehyung.” You’re not children anymore. As much as you wish, you can’t go back to that simple time. “I know.” You twist on your heel, looking him straight into his eyes. “Then will you help me?” He closes the distance in two strides and leans down to take your other hand. His plush lips kiss against your knuckles and he swears his loyalty yet again, “I’ll do anything for you, mistress.” // The next afternoon, you gather the entire estate’s servants together — the cooks, kitchen workers, maids and footmen. They look nervous at the sudden impromptu gathering, glancing at one another and quietly murmuring. You clear your throat loudly and their attention is taken. “As you all know, recently my father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. Arden, have passed away. And I have become the new head of household. You have done a well enough job to be here and your services are much appreciated. For those who came to give their condolences at the memorial, it is something I will not forget. However, your loyalties must belong to me, not to my late parents.” There are worried glimpses exchanged and you begin to pace in front of them. “As I am now the lady of the Arden estate, I would like to begin anew.” You can’t afford to feed so many mouths, considering all the wealth is frozen. You’ll be paying with what you personally have until you can find a solution with Mr. Kim. Not to mention, you’re not sure who can be trusted, who your uncle and aunt have already persuaded. The last thing you need is extra eyes and ears in this house. “From now on, Taehyung will be the manager of this household. He will see to it that the household will still function. If you have any questions, ask him. If you have any concerns, then ask him. He will come to me with whatever he cannot solve.” “Few of you will stay and I thank the rest for serving this house for so long. I will make sure your severance pay is generous enough until you will be able to find work elsewhere. If your name is called, you may stay.” Taehyung, standing behind you, begins reading from the list. One of the three names called is none other than Jimin himself. The gardener smiles out of relief, eyes crinkled into half-moons. “Thank you, madam.” You nod and once it’s done, you leave for the study as Taehyung takes care of the rest. You don’t want to stay around to see disheartened expressions or hear pleas to stay. So you’re resigned to watch out of the upper windows instead. You’ve allowed them a few days to leave, but some are already taking their exit with their belongings with them, tearfully looking back at the mansion. It’s difficult but it needs to be done. “My lady…” You hear Taehyung come from behind you. You shift away from the window. “You’ll help me look for new help?” “Of course.” “Do you think four maids and one cook will suffice?” You count on your fingers. There’s already Jimin taking care of the gardens, you kept one maid so he’ll only have to hire three, and there’s a trustworthy kitchen maid too. It’s not like you need that many hands to take care of the estate. “Or will you need more help?” “That’ll be fine.” The edge of Taehyung’s mouth pulls. “I could technically do it all, if you’d like.” “And have you fainting on me from exhaustion?” You notice lint on his coat tail, so you come up to him and gently dust off his shoulder. “I think not.” Taehyung’s sly smile tugs. “Do you consider me delicate?” “No. But I am,” you clarify, looking up at the man. “If you’re not here twenty four seven attending to me, then what would be the point of having you around?” You brush past him, mumbling, “Can’t have you in the kitchen when you’re supposed to be by my side.” The man stifles back a laugh to himself, yet his grin is all too evident. “Yes, madam.” You glare at him over your shoulder, but it reminds you, “Tell the new help not to call me madam. You know I don’t like it.” He puts his hand over his heart and bows exaggeratedly. “Yes, young mistress.” You scoff. The title is not that much different and he knows it too. He always knows how to be cheeky, but you let it go because he’s Taehyung. It’s not like you can ever be upset with him for long. He’s already won before the game’s begun. // A few days later, there’s a knock at your door. It’s unusual. Taehyung never knocks and your suspicions are confirmed when an unfamiliar girl is sticking her nose into the room. “Umm...pardon me.” It’s an unfamiliar girl in a maid ensemble, a black dress with white trim and a ruffled apron with a headpiece. Her hair is dark and shiny, features sharp. You assume she must be one of the new ones. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t find Butler Kim, I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Kim, the lawyer— I think, is in the parlor. He instructed me to tell you that he’s brought it.” You nod and get up. But you stop for a second and come eye to eye with the girl. “What’s your name?” “Jane.” She smiles to herself as if she’s happy you’ve made a note of it. “If you could clear the teacup from the table.” “Oh! Certainly!” She rushes over and you don’t linger. True to what’s been told, the middle-aged lawyer is sitting in his chair and he staggers up as you come into the room. “It’s good to see you well, Y/N, and that you’ve taken charge of this estate so well.” “Thank you.” You motion to the armchair. “Please, sit.” “I brought your parent’s business expense reports as you asked.” Mr. Kim takes it from his briefcase and hands you the thick folder after settling down. “I didn’t think I would have it until I remembered there was a box in my office closet meant for this sort of thing. My office ended up branching out and opening a professional accounting firm a year ago, you see, so we no longer do bookkeeping.” You flip open to find your father’s writing, then pages of Mr Kim’s. The reports match up with what he says. It stops a year ago. You might need to get into contact with Yoongi to find the more recent expense documents. “Thank you for this. It will be very helpful to me.” The lawyer nods. “Anytime, child. Now about what you talked to me about last time….” “Yes, how is that coming along?” He sharply inhales. “As I suspected, it will be difficult to challenge the will in court, Y/N. It hasn’t been done before and it may be costly. For now, my first submission is still in process, so we’ll have to see if we can even speak to a judge. I’ll let you know how that comes along.” You’re grateful he’s still of help to you. He's older than your father is, but you suppose he must enjoy his line of work to not retire at this age. “Mr. Kim, if I may ask a question. Were...you aware that I had a sibling?” The man smiles sadly. “Unfortunately, I was not. The will was sealed and I was simply entrusted to read it to you all. It took me by surprise as much as it did for you.” If you didn’t know, the family lawyer wouldn’t either. You wonder how many other well-kept secrets there are in your family. That night, you look over the documents while burning the midnight oil. As usual Taehyung insists that you head to bed when the grandfather clock chimes past twelve, but after you tell him to go retire first, he stays silent beside you. Taehyung’s too stubborn sometimes, but you don’t tell him his company is pleasant to have. “Huh.” “What’s the matter?” “I didn’t know my father donated to St. Andale Orphanage.” You squint, reading the barely legible writing. You don’t remember that happening or it being posted in the newspaper. “It must’ve been done anonymously,” Taehyung comments and you make a noise in agreeance. But it’s strange. Your father always liked to have his name on donations so that people would know and it would be written in the newspaper. It’s not like him to go quiet and he gave quite generously too. “I’d like to go to the orphanage tomorrow.” You look up at Taehyung. “In the morning.” “I’ll arrange that for you,” he says with a smile. You close the books. “I’d like that man to join me as well. My father’s worker, Min Yoongi.” At that, Taehyung’s brow quirks. “For?” “He was close to my father, right? He might know something I don’t.” // The orphanage is a worn brick on the south side of the city in the poorer area, yet it somehow looks to be holding up well. It’s unlike the other buildings around that’s crumbling. You wonder if it’s your father’s doing that made this place half-decent. You can hear the laughter of children in the plot of grass fenced in. You watch them at the distance while strolling the perimeter with Taehyung to your left and Yoongi to your right. “It is quite cloudy today.” “It looks like winter is coming soon.” Yoongi looks at you. “If you’re cold, we could go inside.” “No, it’s quite alright. I don’t get to enjoy the cold weather often and it can be nice.” You turn with a small smile. “I might be like my father in that way.” “Yes, I remember he told me he quite enjoyed the snow.” His eyes gloss over, reminiscent. “Your father was a very respectable man.” “He was a good businessman and an even less attentive father,” you hum and feel Yoongi’s gaze on your profile, but he doesn’t get a chance to reply. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but did my father ever speak about his private life, Mr. Min?” “Yoongi is fine. But no, not frequently at least. I only remember he once told me about flowers he was going to get for his wife before he headed home and I remember he spoke about you a few times.” “Me?” “Yes.” Yoongi offers a polite smile. “He told me that you were quite talented in your personal studies.” You take a glance at him. There’s not a single trace on his expression that lets you know he’s lying or exaggerating, but you still find it hard to believe. “In his will, he gave me a pocket watch. I was hoping you’d know more about it. It’s gold and without any designs or engravings—” “Gold?” Yoongi gives you a peculiar expression. “The company doesn’t make gold pocket watches.” “Pardon?” He explains, “We found that the profits weren’t worth the costs, so what’s used is silver, bronze, ceramic or even glass. In the third collection, there were some gold watches, but you said there weren’t any designs or engravings on it?” “There’s nothing.” The corner of the man's mouth pulls. “Mr. Arden must have personally handcrafted it for you then.” Your brows furrow. You’re not sure how you feel upon hearing that, so you cast a glimpse to Taehyung who’s been quietly listening and he smiles at you. Yoongi clears his throat a moment after. “I wasn’t planning on telling you this, Miss Y/N, but considering it’s about your family, I think you have a right to know.” Your head turns over in alarm. “What is it?” “Your cousin, I believe, Hoseok. He’s been….showing up to the company often. He’s been wanting to book a meeting with me for a week now and he waits until I’m done working to try to speak to me. I suspect he wants to take over the business.” You’re not surprised. “I’m receiving that kind of pressure in regards to the wealth and estate, Yoongi, and a hundred times worse. I think you have it in you to handle my overbearing cousin.” Yoongi laughs from his chest as if he already figured you didn’t have any real solution. But based on your answer, it’s allowing him to do whatever he wants to that cousin of yours. A few minutes pass before an older woman emerges to the field. “Children! Children! It’s time for lunch! Come along now!” Another woman comes to invite you inside, so you follow after them into a room where they’re serving soup and loaves of bread. You watch children as old as fifteen to as young as three line up one after another. It’s both sad and heartwarming to see so many sparkling eyes in hunger-pane frames. “Today’s food was given to us by Miss Arden and Mr. Min, can everyone give a big thank you?” There’s a chorus of ‘thank you’s throughout the room and toothless grins from boys and girls. When a woman struggles with carrying a box inside, Taehyung comes to help and then Yoongi. They’re supplies that you donated out of your own pocket, clothing and some blankets — it’s not much but still better than nothing. “I want more!” A pitched voice of a four year old boy in drab clothes knocks you out of your train of thought and you shift towards him. His friend adamantly shakes his head. “No! ‘Member what Sister Emmy said? You only get one!” You step forward, lips parting but before a single word can escape— “Here you go.” An older girl with soft features and her hair pulled back in a frayed ribbon has spun around with an extended arm. Her loaf of bread is in hand. The boy blinks owlishly at her and she beams. “You can have it.” “Thank you!” He takes it and the two boys run away. “That was very kind of you,” you speak up and she turns around, startled that someone saw. You smile at her, lowering yourself to match her height. “You can have more bread. There should be enough for the next few days.” Her eyes light up. “Really?” You don’t like children much, but this girl seems to be intelligent and mature for her age. “What’s your name?” “Rose, ma’am.” She bows her head awkwardly, rather well-mannered. “Thank you for the food.” “I’m happy to help when I can. Can I ask how old you are?” She counts on her fingers for a moment. “I believe twelve, ma’am, but I’m not sure.” As you frown, she quickly explains, “My mother died when I was young and I’ve never met my father, so I don’t know for certain how old I am….” Her voice becomes quieter and quieter as it goes on and you realize she’s ashamed. “That’s quite alright. I don’t have parents anymore either.” You muster a smile and the corner of her own mouth tugs. It’s pleasant to talk to someone who doesn’t know you, someone who doesn’t have any ulterior motives. “What do you like to do, Rose?” “I don’t do much. But I like to cook! And churn butter. I also like collecting eggs and making milk.” You hum. “How would you like to come back with me and work at the house?” Her eyes open wide, irises practically glistening from the afternoon sunlight coming through the windows. You’re normally not so impulsive, but you have a feeling she’s wasted here in the orphanage where she’ll have to work in a factory soon or get married by fifteen. Your mother always warned you to pick and choose the people around you carefully, and this girl seems trustworthy. Or at least, you can see capability. Taehyung was even younger than she was when he entered the house for the first time. He must’ve been six or seven. His dad worked for the household and so did his dad’s dad — a whole lineage that made it inevitable that Taehyung would follow too. Rose comes home with you three hours later. You take it that this kind of affair customarily doesn’t happen so quickly judging by the head lady there being overwhelmed by the generous offer of taking the girl. But the process was most likely sped up considering your well-known status and Rose’s enthusiasm at the promise of a private room, food each day, and a high pay at the end of every month. She was more than happy and practically begging the woman she knew well to let her go. And the woman was happy too — even thanking you for giving her a home. You’re not sure if it’s much of a home. But it’s yours. “This is...enormous.” Rose gasps as her eyes lay upon the manor, lugging her small case of belongings by her side. “I-I mean, thank you, ma’am. I will work very hard!” Your lips tickle into a small smile. “I’m glad.” The three of you enter and she gawks at the place. “Taehyung will show you where you’ll stay in the maid’s quarters and what will be expected of you. I’ll give you time to settle yourself, so don’t worry about anything for now.” “Thank you, ma’am!” “It’s right this way.” He guides and she tottles after him. You sigh softly with a smile as you watch the pair. He was amused when you told him that you wanted to take her home and he followed your instructions without much protest. Hopefully Taehyung will let her know that you’re not keen on being called ma’am or madam. You’re about to retire to your room, but you’re stopped on your way by Jane. She fiddles with her fingers nervously. “Miss, um, there’s, uh…” “What is it?” “There’s a guest in the parlor. He came about an hour or two ago and he insisted on staying until you came home.” You hold in your sigh, wondering why it’s so hard to take a rest these days. “From now on, do not allow anyone inside the house when I am not here unless said otherwise.” She flinches at your tone and dips her head. “Yes, my lady.” You make your way to the room to find out who this uninvited guest is, and your brows furrowed in confusion when you see the backside of an unfamiliar man. He’s dressed in a sack coat with a matching waistcoat and black trousers. He must hear your footsteps since he turns around and instantly gets up, jaw gone slack. “You must be Y/N,” he murmurs in awe. “You’re even more beautiful in person.” The man comes to you and takes the back of your hand, placing a kiss against your knuckles. You eye him the entire time. “And you are…?” “Oh, I apologize, I hadn’t realized I didn’t introduce myself.” He takes off his top hat and presses it to his chest. “I am Mark Carter. I believe your uncle may have spoken about me previously.” You vaguely remember something about meeting his friend’s son, but you can’t quite pinpoint the details. Your expression remains stoic and unimpressed. “Is that so?” “It’s an honour to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” You guessed this would have happened, but you didn’t know it would come so soon. Being the head of the Arden Household and unmarried at that, it’s only natural that others will come after you. It would be wise of you to consider it as well — the only way you can collect the temporary inheritance is through your husband. But as silly and naive as it might be, you want to marry for love and not convenience. And it’s the one thing you won’t allow yourself to give up on. “Like what?” “Pardon?” “What have you heard about me?” Mark clears his throat. “Well, I have heard that you are as intelligent as your father and as beautiful as your mother, no less than a red rose blossoming in the morning dew of spring. And I must say, those rumours do not do you justice, Miss Y/N. You far exceed any poetry that could possibly be waxed.” The corner of your mouth curls in amusement. Admittedly, it’s nice to hear such bold and blatant compliments once in a while, even if they are exaggerated and likely crafted by your uncle. “While I am wholly flattered, Mr. Carter, is this what you came here to tell me?” The man’s posture straightens. “I came to ask permission to court you.” You nearly choke on your own spit. You’re taken aback at the man’s shamelessness, not sure if he’s dimwitted or simply brave. “Meaning?” “I would like to send you letters every so often if you grant me permission and perhaps if you’d be inclined to take strolls with me.” You’re not sure how to answer or what to say, but you’re starting to feel your impassive expression crumble. You muse it’s impressive your uncle found someone as overbearing and insistent as he is. “Can I ask why you want to send me letters? We’ve never met before.” “Actually, we have,” he says and blinks. “At your father’s charity function two years ago.” You scour your mind, but you can’t recall. Every charity function you attended, you just remember sneaking out food for Taehyung and sitting together outside looking at the stars. Mark reads your expression as he realizes that you can’t remember and his face falls. “It hurts me that you can’t remember the encounter but no matter.” He suddenly takes your hands and you lean back to create more distance. “If you let me, Miss Y/N, I promise you that you will not be disappointed.” “Mr. Carter—” “I have not been able to forget you since that night.” You wonder why he didn’t look for you sooner then if he felt so passionately about an encounter you can’t even remember. But before you can ask, he comes closer to you, forcing you to take a step back. “If you give me a chance, I will grant your every wish.” He’s crowding you, intruding in your space, larger than you are. Your mouth parts, trying to utter out a word, but it’s not necessary. A looming shadow comes over Mark, draping him away from the light. It’s Taehyung with a menacing expression — his lips drawn together, eyes practically burning holes. He grabs the back of the man’s coat collar and yanks him away from you, finally giving you space to breathe. “Please do not lay a hand on her ladyship, good sir.” “W-Who’re you?!” Mark looks between you and Taehyung as if expecting you’ll tell him to leave him be. But you don’t move whatsoever. Your butler offers the man a stiff smile that has your own mouth curling upwards. “Uninvited guests are no longer permitted in the Arden estate. The maid that you let in was inexperienced. A mistake like that will never happen again. So unfortunately, you will have to leave now until you receive a proper invitation.” “Wait!” You stifle back a laugh when Taehyung physically picks him up, nearly throwing him over his shoulder. The man struggles and his cries echo throughout the manor as he’s taken away, “Put me down! Stop! You idiot! You’ll hear from my father about this! How dare you!” Taehyung throws him out of the estate and you’re finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. When he comes back, he dusts off his hands with a more pleased expression. “What would you like for dinner, mistress?” // The next time someone visits, it’s not uninvited. “Who are you?” Jane has stopped in the middle of her path, duster in hand and scrutinizing the doe-eyed male in the foyer. His brow lifts at the girl, but before he can come up with an answer, Taehyung appears from the corridor. “Right this way, sir.” The man in his coat nods and walks away, yet the maid is still curious. Her eyes follow the stranger’s form and she murmurs to Taehyung, “But who is he?” “Her lady’s affairs don’t affect you,” he coldly deadpans. “It would be better to attend to your duties than ask questions.” “M-My apologies, Butler Kim.” Jane dips her head and turns around, but she still steals a glance over her shoulder with a pout and a huff escaping through her nose. Taehyung comes inside the study to find you and Detective Jeon going through what he’s found. “I looked into Park Jimin like you asked me to.” “What did you find?” Detective Jeon flips open copies of documents. “He was born and raised right here in Lennox, never stepped foot outside of Trulia. His parents are immigrants from the East, still married and living together on the West side of the city in a tenement. His father worked in a landscaping company and his brother, three years older than he is, is a wagon craftsman.” You go through the papers and sigh after a moment. It doesn’t seem like he’s the one you’re looking for. Well, you suppose you’ve ruled out at least one possibility. “He’s as boring as they get,” the detective says. “But I did find something...peculiar.” “What is it?” “That man you wanted me to search for, the one who came to the funeral, I think I might have found where he is.” Detective Jeon hands you another worn folder from his briefcase and you eagerly untie the string to look at the pages inside. “An intern at your father’s company actually spoke to him briefly and I found the inn he was staying at in Lennox. Spoke to the lady there and went to the train station. I have a connection with someone who manages the books and they found a train ticket. There’s more to it, but I won’t bore you.” His name is Arthur Kahl. There are small details of him written, how he’s in his fifties, where he lives and a drawing of him sits amongst the documents. Your brows furrow. This is him — there’s no doubt about it. “He’s an artisan. A woodworker,” Detective Jeon tells you. “Lives in France, in a town called Colmar, but he grew up here in Lennox.” Your eyes flicker up to Taehyung and then the detective. “Thank you for this.” He offers a smile. “It’s all in a day's work.” Shortly after, Detective Jeon is escorted out by the butler. His eyes are perceptive but his senses are even more keen. He takes a glance at the taller man. “Your name is Kim Taehyung, right?” Taehyung’s brow quirks. “I think you already know the answer to that.” Detective Jeon boyishly smiles. “Is it alright if I ask a question? It might be intrusive.” “Then don’t ask.” “But see, I’m much too curious.” His steps slow while the two men come outside where it’s harder to eavesdrop. They stop on the front path of the manor leading towards the gates. “It might be the reason why I ended up in this line of work. Can’t give up on something once it’s in my head. I just have to know.” There’s a pause. Then, he doesn’t hesitate any longer. “Do you perhaps fancy Miss Y/N?” Detective Jeon’s doe eyes sparkle in the sunlight. It’s a subtlety that can only be noticed through careful observation. But he’s seen it — through the way you allow the butler to stay in every private conversation divulging the secret details of your family. How he always knows what you want without you needing to speak a single word. You’re in rhythm with one another and always taking glances when the other person isn’t looking. Jungkook has seen many things. But never a master and servant so close to each other. “That is an intrusive question.” Taehyung’s expression remains impassive. “My devotion goes beyond such kinds of frivolous and fickle emotions.” His mouth quirks. “Why don’t you do anything about it then?” “It’s not my place. I merely grant her wishes and fulfill my necessary duties.” “So you’re holding yourself back on purpose?” “That’s enough questions.” Butler Kim continues walking. “You’re a detective. If you’re that curious, I’m sure you can figure it out.” “You’re right.” Detective Jeon grins, led out the gates, yet he turns around one last time. “But if you’re willing to do anything for your mistress, would you kill for her?” His expression hardens while Jungkook flashes another smile. It’s not the kind of question that is waiting for an answer, so the other merely walks off, down the path and away from the estate. // You’ve only ever left Trulia twice in your life. Once on a family outing when you were five or six and another time for just a few days when you were accompanying your father on a business trip. You’ve never had the chance to see much outside of this country and it’s a wish that you never spoke to anyone before but Taehyung. There was simply never a chance for you to go. And while you expected your next journey out of Trulia would be an adventure and perhaps seeing new sights, you suppose this is a good excuse as well. “Can you please pack another dress? I don’t want to run out when I’m there.” Rose enthusiastically nods and goes to your wardrobe to pick another gown. While Taehyung is the one who would ever pack your suitcases, you don’t want to rely on him too much. He was already preparing the rest of the things for the trip and Rose seemed more than happy to help. “The blue one will be fine.” She nods and folds it into the case as you look over the gloves. “How long will you be going for, miss?” “A few days.” You look up at the twelve year old and the corner of your mouth tugs. “You’ll watch the house for me? I don’t want any roaches to crawl in while I’m away.” Her head bobs up and down. “I’ll try my best, my lady.” You smile, noticing Jane looking into the room. She realizes you’ve seen her and clears her throat. “Do you need any help, my lady?” “No, I’m fine, thank you.” It’s nerve-racking to leave the estate and Trulia. You trust that a few days won’t bring things into chaos, especially considering that you’ve kept your affairs discreet. But underlying the unsettlement is a buzz of excitement — that just for a short while, you can escape. You feel that way even a day later when you’re at the train platform. And whatever you were afraid of is washed away with Taehyung by your side. “Stand right here. I’ll only be a moment,” he tells you, holding your tickets to Colmar and you nod. Your hand grips the suitcase as you overlook the bustle of people. You’ve never seen so many gathered in one place before, families and lovers parting ways, children rushing past, the conductor quickly pacing to the front of the platform. It’s dizzying to look at and overwhelming to be in. You wonder if you look out of place in the mass of people. You chose to wear a white dress with a natural silhouette, a bustle pad underneath and a bonnet around your half pinned-up hair. It’s modest attire, but the threads are still expensive. The last thing you would want is to attract needless attention and that’s why you made Taehyung wear a normal white waistcoat and black frock coat with matching trousers than his usual stiff tailcoat. He looks rather nice in normal clothing anyhow. As you think about Taehyung, you start to search the crowd. The red and black painted train whistles, smoke coming from its chimney. It looks like it’s about to leave soon, but you’re not sure if you should go in or where you would even sit or put your luggage. It’s been so long since you’ve been on a train, you don’t know what to do. The endless questions and uncertainty drains blood from your face and you start to panic. Until Taehyung comes into sight. “What took you so long.” You frown at him but he still has the audacity to smile. “My apologies, I had to check if we were at the right platform. Let’s go.” He takes your suitcase and offers his arm which you take. Taehyung keeps you from being swallowed by the thick crowd and pushed back. His height looms over even most men and although his stature is lean, he remains steady. Once you’re at the doors, he puts down the cases and holds your hand to help you up the step and then he resumes by your side, cutting through the passenger cars. The two of you pass the more luxurious sleeping cars and as you peek into the window of the car of commoners, wondering if that’s where you’re heading, he slides open the door of a compartment. It’s a private booth with a large window and a ledge overtop for your suitcases. “Here we are, my lady.” Taehyung organizes your belongings as you sit down on the plush seat. A moment later, the train begins to move, wheels rolling against the rail and then it builds speed to chug along. You watch houses flash past the window. “What do you think?” he asks, sitting opposite of you. “Is it supposed to be so nauseating?” Your head is light and the world is dizzying from the fast motion of the train. Taehyung must see your weakened expression with the way his eyes widen in alarm. But you quickly lift your hand and try to reassure him, “It’s fine.” It isn’t. And he knows it. “We can get off the next station.” “No!” You inhale a deep breath, calming yourself. “We have to go. We have to make it, Taehyung.” You shut your eyes. There’s no way you can turn back now. “It’s probably because I haven’t been sleeping well.” Not when you’re up day and night taking care of what your parents left for you, even if it’s only temporarily. And not when you’re kept awake plagued by the secrets of the people who were supposed to be closest to you. “The herbs in my tea can only do so much.” Suddenly, you feel the seat dip beside you and your eyes flutter open to see Taehyung. He reaches over and gently guides your head to lean on his shoulder. “Then sleep. Don’t think about anything else.” The corner of your mouth curls. “You make it sound so easy.” “I’ll watch over you.” A noise is made at the back of your throat and you allow yourself to mold against Taehyung’s side, your head cradled against the slight slope of his broad shoulder. As you ease, your fingers slowly drag itself over until you graze the back of his hand. No words are needed. No explanations are necessary. Taehyung flips his hand so that his palm faces upwards and his fingers entwine with yours. Within a few minutes, your chest begins to rise and fall, soft breaths escaping your parted lips. Taehyung’s eyes stray from the windows to watch you. You’re cold and blunt, carrying yourself with an intimidating demeanour that either frightens others or causes them to despise you. But he can still see the traces of your childhood self, even if the recent weeks have forced you to harden. Taehyung knows that you’re still sentimental, that you’re affectionate, that you’re not as indifferent as you’d like to be. He knows you’re still grieving for your parents. The two of you grew up together after all. Since young, he’s been told he’s talented for this line of work, but devotion was another matter. He was told that being a butler meant more than just serving — it meant protecting. And he swore his duty to your name that day you took the blame when he stole from the kitchen and you got slapped by your mother. He can still remember your small frame standing in front of him. How your words didn’t waver. Taehyung knew it then and he knows it now — there’s nothing more important than protecting you. His mouth tugs and his eyes lift from your sleeping features, but something catches the edge of his vision. Taehyung looks up to the window of the compartment door and finds a man, blue eyes, blonde hair curled in front of his forehead. The stranger peers into the compartment and when he notices Taehyung’s gaze, he dips his bowler hat as if to shield himself. Taehyung moves. He cradles your head until you’re laying down fully on the seat and he quietly slides the door open. “Excuse me.” Taehyung moves past someone, eyes darted on the man who peeks over his shoulder and quickens his steps. He had seen the man before — earlier on the platform and then again when he left you alone. Taehyung came back right in time. You hadn’t noticed the man behind you at all. Taehyung quickens his steps, stalking after the man who looks over his shoulders once more. His strides hasten. He practically breaks out into a run. Taehyung chases after him as the train curves into a tunnel. The windows are blackened, darkness sweeping throughout the cart. He hears staggering breaths pulling roughly out of lungs and at the same time, the train rushes out the tunnel. Light breaks through the windows again and the steel door at the end of the cart begins to close. Taehyung sees through the tiny gap where panicked eyes meet his own gaze. Taehyung runs. He throws open the door and the cold wind rips through his hair with the intensity of a storm. The wheels shriek against the rail. There’s only a tiny step before one would have to make the jump to the other cart’s door. In between are violently rattling metal links that connect the two carts. “Hah!” There’s a squeak of shoes behind him. Taehyung ducks. The door slams closed. The man’s arm is extended midair, having missed Taehyung’s cheek and within a blink, Taehyung grabs his arm and twists it. The man shouts in agony, teeth gritted. “Why you!” His fist swings and it manages to catch Taehyung’s jaw. He’s knocked back, tasting a surge of coppery blood. Taehyung wheezes, but his lips curl into a smile. He launches himself forward as the man squares himself. An arm swings. Fist curled. Taehyung dodges. Taehyung takes the opportunity, no longer on the defense, and he swiftly strikes. The man stumbles back, air ripped out of his lungs, eye sure to bruise. Taehyung steps forward, but the man grabs something within his coat. “Step back!” Taehyung’s met with the muzzle of a revolver and puts his hands up, calming his breath. The man snorts with a sly smirk. “Yeah that’s right. You’re just a dog.” But then Taehyung's left hand clutches the man’s wrist and he contorts it at an angle, knee coming up to slam into the man’s stomach. Instantly, the man keens and wheezes. He cries out as the revolver crashes onto the links connecting the carts and falls beneath to the rails. Taehyung grabs the man’s collar and holds him backwards, nearly off the train. The man’s eyes become rounded in fear. There’s a storm of verdant in the background, fields and trees darting past. “Who are you?!” “Let go of me! I...I swear, I didn’t want to do this!” “What do you want with her?” Taehyung demands, shaking the man whose head nearly touches the steel rails. The man’s fist curls on Taehyung’s so he doesn’t fall. “Answer the question!” The shout is torn from Taehyung’s throat, his face crumpled into unadulterated anger, jaw clenched. “I-It was her uncle!” the man quickly spits out in fear of his life. “Seokjin! He hired me! He wanted me to kill her!” “So you were planning on putting a bullet through her head?!” “I-I just needed the money! I’m sorry! Please, please,” the man pleads. “You don’t have to do this. W-What has that girl ever done for you? You’re just her guard dog!” Taehyung has a deadpan expression, eyes dim. He begins to release his hold on the man who audibly sighs of relief. “That’s right.” But it’s too soon. “Don’t you know dogs are one of the most loyal animals?” Taehyung grabs the man again as he stands and throws him off the train into the soft meadow. “Woof.” The man’s scream echoes. Taehyung dusts off his hand. He comes back to the compartment to where you’re still sleeping and resumes his spot with your head in his lap, finding a warm blanket to drape over you. Six hours later, you wake up, rubbing your eyes. He smiles and tucks a loose strand of hair in front of your face behind your ear. But your sleepy daze shatters when you see his split lip. Almost immediately, you’re leaning over to Taehyung, grazing the wound with your thumb. He sharply inhales. “What happened?” you demand, worry written all over your face. It hurts to smile, but can’t resist it. He should never admit it — he likes it when your attention is solely on him. “I tripped.” You look at him incredulously. “Taehyung.” “I did.” He doesn’t give up the excuse no matter how much you prod and pry. The train arrives in the town of Colmar shortly after. It’s a quiet place with a certain dryness to the air in spite of the river running through the town and underneath the bridges. The homes are tightly knitted next to one another. It’s a cozy kind of atmosphere. For a moment, you can imagine your mother having spent her life in this place and you’re not certain how to feel. You decide to stay in an inn near the square, dropping off your suitcases in your given room. “We should find him, shouldn’t we?” You turn from the window to Taehyung with an unreadable expression. “We don’t have to,” he says and it’s all too tempting. You want to forget that you’re here looking for your mother’s old lover, that you’re searching for your sibling. You wish you can pretend that this is merely a trip to enjoy with Taehyung in a place far away from Lennox. But even if you were to dream such a thing, the truth would not stop plaguing your mind. You muster the strength to shake your head. “We can enjoy ourselves after. There’s no point in putting it off.” “He’s an artisan. A woodworker.” The detective’s words ring inside your head. “Lives in France, in a town called Colmar.” It should be difficult to find the man — that way you have a legitimate excuse to put this off. You wouldn’t have to confront your parents’ secrets. Or meet a brother or sister you never wanted. “But he grew up here in Lennox.” Yet this town is small and there is only one known woodworker. If such a thing as fate or destiny exists, then it never stops being cruel to you. The bell rings as the door of the shop opens. “Hello there! How can I help you?” There’s an older man behind the counter busy at his shelf, brunette hair and features tender, wrinkles creased around his eyes to mark each smile he’s collected over the years. You come towards him with Taehyung by your side. “You were at my mother’s funeral.” At your murmur, the man turns around wide-eyed. Arthur Kahl, the man your mother loved, who she wanted to marry and be happy with. The father of your sibling. “You’re Hana’s daughter….” His mouth draws open. “Wh-what are you doing here?” “I came to see you. I think you may have answers to my questions.” “I-...I don’t know if I do, but please, sit.” He hobbles to the front of his shop, turning the sign over to not receive any more customers and the both of you sit on wobbly chairs. He knows you came this far, that you searched for him. There’s no other way you could have found him. “I’m sorry I never spoke to you at the funeral. I thought since we didn’t know each other, there was no point in bringing back old memories.” “Is it true then?” You look at him carefully. “About my mother and you running away together…” “That was a very long time ago.” “Then why did you come to see my mother?” “It was a long time ago, but I still wanted to pay my respects. Your mother...was a wonderful woman and treated me kindly. I’m glad she ended up having a good life and a happy family.” The corner of your mouth twitches. He continues, “While I never personally met your father, he seems like a very respectable man and a good husband. I’m truly sorry for your loss.” The words sit uncomfortably in you. Your parents always seemed to treat each other with mutual respect and trust. It was never a passionate affair like pairs you’ve met, but rather a quiet relationship of sitting alongside one another. You never would have guessed your mother had someone else. But you don’t want to know anymore about your mother’s history. “I received my parent’s will a day after their burial.” You inhale a breath, bracing yourself. “And it promised my sibling the estate and the company. I don’t want to harm them. I want to fulfill my parents’ last wishes. So please, allow me to meet my sibling.” Your eyes meet his earnestly. The man stares back at you, his brows knitting together. “My apologies, but I’m afraid there’s a misunderstanding. I don't know who your sibling is.” The clock on his shelf ticks loudly. “Your mother and I never consummated our relationship.” // The night sets in, matches hissing into a flame and thrown into the wood in the fireplace until it awakens and paints the room in a warm orange hue. The quietness is deafening outside of the crackle and pop of the fire. You haven’t eaten. You don’t want to. You don’t think you could stomach it. “My apologies.” You’re seated at the rounded table in the chair, motionless. You should’ve never come. You should have just stayed in the estate instead of trying to dig around in the secrets of your family, into the reasons why nothing was left for you, why they didn’t love you even after death. “But I’m afraid there’s a misunderstanding.” You came here for nothing. “I don't know who your sibling is.” Your efforts were worthless. “Your mother and I never consummated the relationship.” There’s an ear-splitting crash that rings the four walls. Taehyung opens the door, eyes darting to you. You’re hyperventilating, clutching the handle of your suitcase, all your belongings fallen on the ground beside the wall. You toss the case aside with a frustrated cry. He calmly shuts the door before anyone in the inn can pry and closes the distance in two strides. “It’s okay.” He opens his arms and he engulfs your quivering frame. You grasp onto him, your hands twisting into his white shirt. “I-I don’t know what to do, Taehyung. I...I really thought I had it. I was preparing myself—” You were preparing yourself to meet your sibling. To confront it all. For once, you were ready. The frustration cripples you blind and angers you. How much longer will you be left in the dark? How much longer do you have to look like the fool, a child fumbling in her parent’s history searching for the truth? Why did they do this to you? Why? “You can cry,” Taehyung murmurs. And tears finally slip from your eyes to stain his shoulder. If it wasn’t for him, if he wasn’t here, you might have lost your mind by now.

#bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung au #bts au #taehyung writing #taehyung series #taehyung scenario #bts scenario #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #ooOoooOOoH LET'S GO

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years

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Prompt # 19: Addiction

@sicktember Alternate prompt #4: Stay

Title: Unexpected Developments Part 2

Fandom: Pride and Prejudice

Find Part 1 under prompt # 8. Mr. Darcy is sick in bed and miserable. Elizabeth is trying to look after him, but his bad mood gets the better of him and tempers flare. Will sweetness or stubbornness win out in the end?

Elizabeth Bennett was the only guest at Netherfield who wasn't in bed with a cold. The virus Jane had caught riding to attend luncheon with Caroline had spread around the whole house, but it seemed Eliza was immune. Mr. Darcy had been the last to fall ill, and Lizzie had discovered him sneezing in a corner over a day ago while she remained perfectly healthy. It was fortunate she had discovered him though, for the servants were rushing hither and yon at the beck and call of their ill master and his sister, and poor Mr. Darcy would have been overlooked completely if Lizzie hadn't taken him under her care.

Lizzie, for her part, was glad Jane's cold was much improved from the days prior. Since Jane needed little tending now, she had given Lizzie her blessing to give most of her attention to Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy, for his part, was very accustomed to having a houseful of servants to do his bidding, and was little accustomed to being ill, strong and virile as he was. Because of these things, he was not the easiest patient, though he truly tried to make an effort to curb his frustration and not take his misery out on Elizabeth. Her lack of symptoms clearly perturbed him, however.

"How is it you are still in perfect health while I and everyone else are laid up with this beastly chest cold?" he griped that afternoon while Lizzie fussed around, tidying up dishes and rags from his bedside. If Lizzie wasn't accustomed to his voice by now, she would have had trouble understanding him, for his nose was stopped tight with congestion, and his voice raw and weak from coughing, rendering him nigh unintelligible.

She giggled to herself. "Well you see, I believe I've already had this cold, for in the week prior to Jane's arrival here, my father, some of my other sisters and myself caught cold. We were envious of Jane's good luck in not falling ill at the time, but it seems it caught up with her in the end."

"Indeed," Mr. Darcy muttered sourly with a slushy sniffle.

"Oh don't be cross. It isn't so terrible lounging in bed all day, being waited on hand and foot is it?"

"Yet when I find myself miserable in body, I find my mood tends to follow," he groused.

"Hmm." Elizabeth moved to his side, caressing his flushed face gently with the pad of her thumb. "It's just as I thought. You're only irritable like this when your fever is up, and indeed you are overwarm again. Jane's fever wasn't nearly so persistent."

"How fortunate for me," he mumbled to himself. Elizabeth tried to ignore his bad temper as she fetched her basin and rag. She wasn't fond of sarcasm, and his attitude was irking her more than she cared to let on. Tenderly as ever though, she began bathing his face and neck to try to bring down his miserable fever.

The cold water on his face made him gasp slightly, which became a cough, and the coughing only seemed to agitate him more. He usually enjoyed his face being bathed, but today he drew away from the rag.

“Perhaps we should try another method for treating fever, since this does not seem to be effective,” said the sick man. His speech was curt and tense with foul temper.

Elizabeth gave him a long look, trying to keep her own temper under control. “What would you suggest, sir? We have tried willow bark, which made you feel more ill, and you will not have any other poultices,” she said in a measured, warning way.

“There must be something we haven't done yet. I would do anything to rid myself of this beastly cold, that came from *your* sister, I might add! You just said you already had this cold. Think of something else to try!”

Elizabeth flew to her feet, tossing down the rag. “Perhaps you should go plunge yourself into an ice bath! That will surely help the fever, and I’m sure it will do wonders for your coughing and sneezing as well! But you can draw it yourself, and you can see to your own meals and entertainment too. You clearly feel my efforts are inadequate, so you can tend to yourself from now on. I am through with smoothing your insufferable pride and being a target for your bad mood. Good day, sir!”

With a whirl of skirts, she was out the door without a glance behind her. Elizabeth went straight to her room and lay down in the cool and quiet, for she was exhausted and careworn from nursing for a week straight. She fell asleep immediately and didn’t wake for several hours.

She felt much refreshed when she did finally emerge. She first went to look in on Jane, who was overall back to normal, but was getting bored sitting around and eager to go home. On questioning the staff, they learned that Caroline had mostly recovered as well. Mr. Bingley was recovering slower, but getting better all the time. The sisters wished him a speedy recovery by way of the servants, for as soon as he was recovered, they would be able to return home.

After visiting with Jane for some time, Elizabeth desired to find a quiet corner and read. To her chagrin, she realized she had left her book in Mr. Darcy’s room. She did not relish seeing him again so soon after they parted so badly, but she had no choice if she wanted her book back. With a sigh, she made her way to his room with hesitant steps. She knocked softly before entering, which felt odd since she had been coming and going freely for two days prior. His hoarse, weak voice bid her come in.

He was in quite a different state than he had been a few hours before. Where he had previously been fitful and agitated, now he seemed weak and lethargic. Even in the dim light she could see how sweat-matted his hair was, and the dark ring on his pillow. He lifted his head up to see who had entered, and his sleepy eyes flickered with confusion upon seeing her.

“I only came to get my book. I apologize for disturbing you,” she said stiffly, hardly looking at him. She snatched up the volume from the table where it lay and turned to go back out, intending to say nothing else.

“Wait.”

She paused, and turned slightly, her good breeding winning over. “Yes?”

He sat up a bit straighter, coughing weakly as he did so. “I am deeply sorry for how I behaved earlier. My treatment of you was inexcusable after all you’ve done for me these past days--” Here he had to pause to press his handkerchief to his dripping nose before he could continue. Elizabeth waited silently. “I was a beast and feel very much like a fool. Please forgive me,” he managed, mumbling through the damp fabric. His eyes shone earnestly above the hand holding the linen in place.

Her face softened. “I accept your apology, and thank you for it. No one acts quite themself when they’re ill, so I gladly forgive you. I’m sorry too for my part in all of it.”

They shared a tiny smile as he tended to his nose with a thick, gurgling blow, and she knew she was forgiven also. Immediately the tension between them was cleared.

Now that they had made up though, she was reluctant to leave him alone again, for he looked so weak and forlorn and in need of care. However, she was a woman of her word. She spoke as she moved to the door, putting her hand on the knob. “You must rest, Mr. Darcy, so I'll leave you be. I truly apologize for waking you.”

“Miss Elizabeth?”

Once more she turned to meet his eyes.

He held out a shaking hand. “Please… stay.”

She slowly returned to his side. “For what purpose, sir?”

“I… I desire your company… and your aid. You are… a far better caregiver than I, and I was a fool to imply otherwise. It… it won't happen again,” he croaked thickly.

Seeing the effort he was making to be overly polite softened Eliza's heart further. She let him take her hand in his warm grasp, a smile playing around her lips. “If you insist. I will stay.”

He smiled also as he drew her hand toward himself. "Here, let me show you something," he snuffled. He placed her wrist against his neck, just as she had done many times over the past few days. He sighed softly as their skin made contact.

“Your fever has broken,” she murmured happily. “You are cool at last.”

“Yes.”

“How did you do it?” she asked, withdrawing her hand. “Did you plunge yourself into an ice bath after all?”

He stifled a cough before he could speak. “I… tried willow bark again, as you recommended. I felt worse… at first, but I fell asleep to ease the symptoms. When I woke, the fever had left me, and I felt… much clearer in mind. The fever was causing my foul mood, as you insightfully noted.” Yet another long speech, and now his voice was barely audible as he sniffled furiously and trembled with fatigue.

“Yet you seem somewhat worse for wear, for you’re completely exhausted, poor man.”

“This illness has left me weary to my bones, it is true. Yet I could not have slept soundly tonight knowing I had offended you. It would be an understatement to say I was very glad when you returned, though I did not expect or deserve a second chance.” His eyes were getting heavier by the moment, and he yawned almost before he finished speaking, reclining back against his pillows once more.

Elizabeth brushed the sweaty curls from his forehead as his eyes drifted closed, then let her hand rest on his cheek for a moment, reassuring herself that his fever was truly gone. He lazily covered her hand with his, a content smile flickering across his face.

She couldn’t help but smile in response, though he couldn’t see it. “Take some rest, Mr. Darcy. All is forgiven, and I will be here when you wake.” She gently tried to pull her hand away from his face. He quickly interlaced his fingers with hers to prevent this.

“You’ll truly stay?” he murmured sleepily, sniffling.

Leaving her hand on his cheek, she perched on the edge of his bed, so close their hips were almost touching. She saw him smile again as she did so.

“Of course I will,” she murmured back, her eyes never leaving his face as he peacefully drifted to sleep.

#sickfic #sicktember2021 #alt prompt 4 #everyone is hotter with a fever

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only-one-brain-cell · 2 years

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Treacherous, a Bridgerton Story

Chapter 11

Summery: their horny idiots in love your honor

Warning: smut

Word count: 2.8k

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 12

I paced around in the drawing room unsure if she was going to show, just when I had given up I herd footsteps. I was ready to come up with a excuse as to why I'm awake at this time of the night, thankfully it was Aurora. She was dressed in a white nightgown this time my eyes trailed down her body as always they stopped at her breasts admiring them as if it were the first time I've seen them all over again.

"I wasn't sure you would be here,” I admitted.

"Me either, after what happened in the garden I was worried we would have to stop."

"Hastings is many things but he wouldn't tell a soul. He would only tell Daphne if she ever broached the subject with him."

"I don't think that Daphne will want to speak about her brother and his rakeish actives."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Will you want to speak of me and my rakeish activities?"

"No, I'd rather partake in them." She pulled me down for a kiss her hands gripping onto my shirt. I wrapped my arms around her one of my hands caressing the feeling of her exposed skin on her upper back. She stared walking back to the couch stopping when her knees hit it. We only broke apart for her to lie down, I gazed in awe at her black hair cascading down her body. I gently ran my fingers through her hair my thumb massaging the exposed skin on her chest. The other fingers slowly moving the fabric off of her so I could see and touch more or her breast.

"Anthony." She gasped "we shouldn't, we got caught tonight." She's right we shouldn't,

"is that what you want? To stop?" I asked pulling my hand away.

"No, I never want you to stop."

"I spent most of my life dedicating myself to my family without so much as a thought about myself. This is the first decision I've made in years for myself, yes we should be more careful and I'm willing to work on that. But tonight you look positively gorgeous in that nightgown and it's not fair I couldn't rip the gown you were wearing earlier off."

"You will have plenty of other gowns to rip off to make up for."

"Starting with this one." I responded true to my word I carelessly ripped at the top exposing her breasts to me. I immediately dove in my mouth on one while my hand grabbed the other. She gasped in surprise then it turned into a moan.

"Anthony." Her moan was cut short, she wrapped her legs around me

"Anthony please, I need you." My other hand dipped down only to realize she once again wasn't wearing underneath and they she was soaking wet.

"Gorgeous, so gorgeous." I looked up at her as I inserted another finger, I stroked her cunt loving the face she made even bending her head back.

"Your so gorgeous like this, my lady."

"My lord, your fingers- ah fuck their so good." Her face full of pleasure and I wasn't even inside her yet, I can't think about they just yet I would soill my trousers.

"You drive me crazy especially when you walk around not wearing anything underneath."

"As if you don't drive me equally crazy, especially when you try to order me around." She gasped loudly "oh my fuck, yes Anthony right there."

She gripped my hair and lightly tugged at it.

"Are you close?" I asked picking up the pace.

"Yes, keep going just like that."

"Who's the one giving orders now?" I asked she smirked.

"I like the appeal I understand why you do it so much." She moaned "Anthony I'm gonna- she gasped and let out a moan before she could finish her sentence, her juices running down my fingers. I stepped away to wipe my fingers with a handkerchief then returned to the couch. She laid there her legs sprawled out for me her cheeks red and a smile on her face, she looked positively radiant. Is this what love feels like? I'm wondering how I'm looking at her, like she is the only women in the world that matters, the only person that matters that I would want to capture this moment forever.

"Take off your clothes and lay down" she said standing up. I was quick to follow since her last idea turned out so well. She made a show of slowly slipping out of her gown,my eyes were glued to her body at every inch of skin that got exposed as the gown came off her body. She cleared her throat and I looked at the gown in her hand, she dropped it to the floor then walked back over to the couch. My hands inching to grab her, any part of her. I didn't have to wait long she got on top of me my hand immediately grabbing at her hips. I moaned when she thrusted herself inside me. She placed her hands on my stomach and slowly started thrusting, my hands gripped her hips even harder.

"You look so good like this." I said my eyes gazing up and down her body.

"I wanted to switch it up, take charge for a change you already do some much for everyone else I wanted to make you feel good."

"Your doing a wonderful job, keep going." Aurora picked up the pace. Her hair cascading her body, her hands gripping the back of the couch.

"Aurora I'm-

"I know, tell me when to move." I didn't, I wanted to finish inside her just like this. I knew the risk would be too great, if she came to be with child then it could be the start of a scandal. We would be forced to wed and that's not how I would want to start a marriage with Aurora.

"Aurora, you need to get off." She followed through but quickly put her hand on my cock.

"Fuck!" I swore then gasped as she moved her hand up and down, it didn't take long for me to finish all over her hand. My breathing was heavy, I looked at her to find hers was the same.

"Do you" she paused for a minute, allowing her breathing to catch up and return to a normal pace before continuing "do you have a handkerchief or something I can use to wipe off my hands?"

"My suit jacket." I replied. She walked back over to me a smile on her face, she caressed a hand on my cheek. I looked into her eyes hopping that she may be mirroring the same reaction I have towards her.

"No women has ever been on top of me before."

"No? How was it?"

"Amazing, although you do need to warn me next time you put your hand or mouth on my cock, not that I would protest." She smiled nor leaving her spot from the couch, normally we don't stay to long afterwards, fearing we may get caught at any moment but this time was different. It was quite a rare thing in the Bridgerton household and I wanted her close to me even just for a moment.

"Lay down with me." She raised an eyebrow,

"Five minutes I promise you, I just... I want you close to me."

"Ok" she must have known how important this was I was rarely vulnerable with anyone but as always Aurora was the expectation. She rested her hand on my chest my hands caressing her hair.

"No women huh, interesting."

"That's what you want to talk about?"

"It's kind of sad that you never allowed yourself a moment to let someone take care of you, to give you pleasure without them experiencing it as well."

My eyes widened "Aurora did you-

"I did" I sighed

"Good." She kissed me on the lips "your always looking out for everyone."

"It's my duty."

"Yes and one you took on much too soon. I admire you, the way you take on your role, how seriously you look after your family especially after Hyacinth was born, you truly love them."

"Of course, don't all families love each other?" She bit her lip. Damn it how could I be so careless? I opened my mouth to apologize, "Aurora I-

"He hit my mother" I froze.

"She told me, after I was born they had a huge fight. He wanted a son as any man does but he wanted an heir not a daughter. They tried for a year and nothing, my mother never got pregnant again. So he hit her, he called her many names none of which I can repeat." I put a hand to her cheek.

"You don't have to say any more."

"You deserve to know Anthony, why I won't marry. After he hit her he barged out of the door, she never saw him again."

"Aurora-

"When I got a letter that he wanted to see me I almost burned it. I didn't remember his face and I never cared to. I liked that I didn't know what the man who made my mother miserable look like. But then I read it and found out that he was dying, the letter contained an address they wasn't far from where I was staying at the time so I went there. He told me he wishes I was never born, that I am a waste and that all I'm good for is marrying a man and having his children. So I looked him dead in the eyes and told him I'll never do any of those things. I'll live my life bound by what I want and not being controlled by any man. I watched the life drain out of his eyes satisfied that I got the last word."

"Thank you for telling me, I would never ask you to if you didn't want to."

"I know, it would be unfair of me to not tell you. You and your family have done so much for me and my mother I don't know where we would be without you" I smiled.

"That was all my father, he immediately planned for you and your mother to be taken care of."

"I know you don't talk about him much, even less about the day he passed but I went you to know that he would be proud of you. Of everything you've done for your family."

"I don't think he would be to proud of me right now." I admitted.

"I'd like to think your father had a few affairs of his own before he met your mother." I scrunched my face trying not to picture my father engaging in any sort of activity with a woman even my mother, the little mix dared to laugh at my discomfort.

"You find my discomfort amusing?" She nodded her head.

"Whatever shall I do with you?" I sighed, she broke from my grasp and stood up.

"I think you have a few ideas she turned around my eyes dropped to her backside. She picked up her nightgown and slipped it back on, "the sleeve is torn."

"Oops." I said not caring at all that the garment got ripped, she shook her head.

"Good night Anthony."

"Good night Aurora." I watched her walk away her story still fresh in my mind. It makes sense now why she wouldn't want to marry or bring a child into this world, I understand her anger at her father if he was still alive I'd track him down and punch him in the face myself for how he treated Aurora and her mother. Aurora rarely talks about her mother I only remember her as being as kind, carrying and independent as Aurora. I sighed knowing sleep won't come easy to me tonight I went to my room only to grab a cigar I kept hidden in my closet. I try not to smoke at home but there are times like theres where I desperately need something to take the edge off.

I sat outside on a old swing, I smiled fondly of pushing my younger siblings on this very swing. Once again the image of a little boy this time accompanied by a little girl with curly black hair and blue eyes were swinging on the swings.

"Are you smoking?"

I broke out of my dream and turned to see Benedict who seemed both surprised and amused.

"I had a long day."

"Yes tea with the Queen must have been horrible, or do you mean dancing with Aurora? Oh you must be referring to all the men who you glared at when they even so much looked at her." I let out a irritated groan, "they looked at her like she was a prized cow up for auction." Benedict didn't respond I sighed then took another drag.

"If I tell you something you have to promise you won't tell anyone else."

"Brother do you really think so little of me that I can not keep a secret?" I rolled my eyes.

"I mean it you can't tell anyone."

"You sound serious brother, what is it."

"I'm in love with Aurora, I think a small part of me has always been in love with her. I kissed her at Daphnes ball and we've been." I sighed "frequently fucking each other every chance we get. I then discovered my true feelings for her and now I'm in love with a women who I can never marry."

Benedict was silent, I was actually surprised he didn't immediately shout out that he knew it and he told me so.

"Care to say anything?"

"I know."

"Yeah I know you know I'm in love with her it seems everyone else knows besides me and Aurora."

"No I know you two have been going at it like rabbits."

"How-

"I herd you the other night in the dining room."

"Oh"

"Yeah oh, also Colin herd you today in Auroras study I don't know what you two were doing but I think you scarred him for life, he's sworn off women now.

"Yeah let's see how long that lasts, Hastings caught us in the gardens tonight."

"Is he going to tell Daphne?"

"Only if she asks so we're safe for now."

"Yeah for now, won't be for much longer if you two keep going at it on every surface."

"Ok that's a bit extreme."

"Is it?" I was silent for a moment Benedict smirked

"I will knock you off this swing."

"No you won't, because your in love."

"Oh shut up."

"She loves you too." I scoffed

"She doesn't, and that's where my problem lies."

"Really? It's not just the the fact that she boldly announced to us today that she will never marry?" He's enjoying this too much, "I'm happy your enjoying seeing my suffer."

"Stop being overdramatic. There's not a doubt in my mind that Aurora feels the same way."

"Really?" I asked

"Definitely, now why now that's the mystery."

"Shut up" I replied. It was silence for a moment before I spoke. "She told me why she would never marry, I understand why." Benedict didn't press for details knowing I would never tell him, Aurora was kind enough to trust me with the truth and I will never speak of it to anyone unless she has granted me permission to do so.

"So what are you going to do now?" I shrugged my shoulders.

"I can't tell her."

"Yes you can, you may not see it Anthony but I do and so does everyone else. I see it whenever you walk into a room, whenever your spending time with Hyacinth or Gregory, and whenever you two are dancing, I can see the love she has for you."

"I can't ruin our friendship like that."

"Brother you ruined it the second you kissed her" I stood up

"Good night brother."

I walked away trying not to let his words etch themselves into my mind.

Benedict

I sighed knowing I had crossed some sort of line but it needed to be said, Idiots the both of them. The plan seems to be working, but it seems a new plan may need to be made. One that involves Aurora and realizing her feelings that is if she hasn't already.

This one may be a bit more challenging, Aurora rarely opens up about her feelings another thing her and Anthony have in common. Even when her mother died the only one that saw her cry was Anthony, she would be held up in her room for days.

Not unexpected but she wouldn't see any of us, only Anthony for weeks. When we did finally see her she went on about like everything was perfectly normal. Like she had represented her feelings and shoved them down. How these two not realize their perfect for each other I will never understand. I swear I'm gonna to loose my mind trying to get them to see that.

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fanfic

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kuroosmikasavolleyball · 3 years

Text

More Than A Friendly Competition

Abendrot

(n) the color of the sky when the sun is setting; a certain afterglow.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

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More Than A Friendly Competition

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(a/n): this is the second part of the series! I hope I wrote quidditch games accurately. I haven’t read or watched Harry Potter in a while, but I used one of the quidditch clips(first movie’s first match) as a reference. I am going to write other(haikyuu, marvel, jjk) fics so please request! As always, republish and like if you want, and message/ask me if you have any questions or comments about this fic or just in general. This is a safe and loving place for everyone. Thank you for reading<3

Part 2 summary: The first of two quidditch games is set in action. (Y/N) acts as a supporter for Cedric and the twins because who cares if they’re in different teams, they’re all still her friends! Kimball and Roger come with a plan for tomorrow’s game. As an exciting but suspenseful match goes on, who knows what house will take the win?

pairing: cedric x fem!reader(in ravenclaw)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 0.9k

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(Y/N) walked into the Great Hall, immediately seeing a cluster of rich red and sunshine yellow. She ran over to the twins with fiery hair.

“Good morninnng.” (Y/N) dragged her words.

“Are you ready to see me and Freddie kick arse out there?”

“YES! But also, I’m a mutual support for you guys and Ced.” She pointed to her cheeks; one cheek with red and gold stripes, and the other with yellow and black.

Fred exclaimed, “I hate how you always do this! Just pick a side or alternate every match. You better be supporting us even if we decide to hit pretty boy with a bludger.”

(Y/N) shrugs, “We’ll see. I’m gonna head over to Ced and then eat breakfast. I want to get a good seat!”

The bustling crowd in the Great Hall held voices of excitement for one of the only two matches this year.

“Hello Mr. Diggory, how are you doing this fine morning?” (Y/N) mockingly bowed.

“Yes very well. And you?” He played along. Both burst into laughter when Cedric dabbed his handkerchief on his mouth in a posh manner.

“So are you ready for today?”

“Pretty much. The team feels good about this match, I can feel it.”

“Ok Captain; kick it out there. I’m gonna go over to my table; I think Kimball is waiting for me to calm her nerves about tomorrow. Good luck!”

(Y/N) strode away and saw Kimball and Roger muttering about plans.

“Oh look who decided to join us, Ms. I have so many friends in different houses.”

“Ugh, Roger. I was just wishing Ced and the twins good luck. What is this?”

A sheet of paper with weirdly detailed drawings lay in the middle of the table. Definitely Kimball’s work.

She answered, “We had an idea for tomorrow.”

After breakfast and waiting in the stands, the quidditch game was finally about to begin. Lee Jordan’s infamous commentary added to the exciting atmosphere. It was a beautiful day, almost made for flying. A few Ravenclaws used to give her weird looks for supporting both teams whenever Gryffindor and Hufflepuff versed; but now they couldn’t blame her. Fred, George, and Cedric were amazing players and it didn’t hurt that they were good-looking.

“Welcome to Hogwarts’ first of only two games of the season! Today’s game: Gryffindor and Hufflepuff! Let’s welcome the incredibly talented Gryffindor Quidditch Team!” Lee exclaimed.

“And the also kind of good Hufflepuff Quidditch Team!” Mcgonagall glared at him, but didn’t say anything.

The whole school depends on Quidditch games, so the cheers were almost too loud.

“Atleast they don’t cheat like Slythe-“ “-MR. JORDAN!” “-I mean…Let’s get on with the game. Professor Hooch is now giving the routine rules and..the bludgers, followed by the Golden Snitch, are released…the quaffle is up! THE GAME BEGINS!”

Instantly, the crowd goes wild. (Y/N) focuses in on Cedric, who searches for the Snitch, along with Harry. She knew Harry because being friends with the twins meant knowing their family from being invited over, and in turn, Ron’s friends. Plus, Harry was really well-known at Hogwarts and The Chosen One.

“..Spinnet with the quaffle, dodging everything to making her way to the goals..GO ALICIA! And..oh. Hufflepuff’s keeper, Herbert Fleet blocks it. That’s alright…”

Lee’s commentary faded as (Y/N) zoned into the game even more. George hit a bludger mildly fast to another Hufflepuff chaser, Heidi, who barely dodges it but still lets go of the quaffle.

The game goes on for way too long, the players not giving up. Harry and Cedric zoom past the Ravenclaw audience stand, a slight smell of sweat wafting the air.

“Go Ced!” (Y/N) exclaims as they both zero in on the Snitch, hands reaching.

“It looks like Diggory and Potter are fighting for the win. Someone’s closing in…CEDRIC DIGGORY HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! HUFFLEPUFF WINS!”

Whoops and cheers fill the air as both houses rush down, eager to congratulate the victors and comfort the losers.

(Y/N) runs to Cedric, but a crowd has already formed and he’s being lifted. She smiles and turns, running to the out-of-breath twins.

“OH GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE WE LOST! GEORGE AND I WERE AT THE TOP OF OUR GAME TODAY!”

“It’s okay guys, I’m so proud of you both.” (Y/N) hugs them, not caring about the sweat, “You did so good today. If Ced didn’t get the snitch, Gryffindor was in the lead.”

“Diggory better be glad we didn’t win; our non-ending bragging would’ve made him lose his mind.” Everyone chuckles.

(Y/N) looks over her shoulder, cheeks red and smile bright. “You should go to him.”

She looks away. “Huh? No, he’s already surrounded.”

“Don’t sound so oblivious, lover girl. It doesn’t matter, just run up and I promise he’ll have all his attention on you in a second.” Fred beams.

“Shut up…” (Y/N) turns away from the twins and runs in Cedric’s direction anyways, calling his name. His excited eyes shift to her and he runs to her.

“YOU DID SO AMAZING OUT THERE!” (Y/N)’s voice muffled by the tight hug Cedric gave her. How did he still smell good?

He laughs, “Thank you. Really.” He lets go. A blush from the slightly cold air up above and flying had formed, and he looked...wow.

“Are you coming back with us?”

“Oh..shoot. I would, but Hufflepuff is having a celebration-sort of thing…”

“No problem. I understand; go and have fun Ced, people are giving me looks.”

He chuckles and walks backwards, “I’ll try and come though!”

The Ravenclaw common room seemed better to have a late night talk/homeowrk session since all of Gryffindor was sulking.

Fred teases, “I heard they have alcohol at the Hufflepuff party. I bet pretty boy will drink and we’ll finally see something other than the good-two-shoes.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widen. The only time Cedric ever drank was with her, and he got too tipsy too fast.

“Wait, what?”

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guqin-and-flute · 4 years

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In Your Hands--Ch. 2 [Peony to Lotus!Verse]

[Chapter 1]

[This whole fic is the second chronological installment of the Peony to Lotus!Verse]

[First Installment] [Ao3 Series]

Yanli is determined to set about evening the exchange of their gifts after she finds a little chest full of her favorite floral incense on his pillow next to her when she wakes. She would like to collect information as he does, sifting through conversation to remember errant tidbits about interests but he is as frustratingly tightlipped on the subject of himself as he ever is. Agreeable to any attempt to draw out his preferences to the point of obfuscation. “Don’t you love this color, A-Yao?” elicits a kindly, “It’s very lovely,” no matter the color in question. She thinks it might be his way of not being a bother, because he certainly isn’t doing anything intentionally. Little does he know that, in reality, it’s making things more difficult on her.

I will know you, she thinks, watching him with keen eyes as they all eat breakfast together and talk. I will give you what you want, if only I could find out what that is.

He catches her watching and tilts his head, smiling in question.

“How are your dumplings?” She asks as an excuse, gesturing.

“Oh, very good. Would you like some more?”

This man.

His plate holds a bit of everything on the table, including one of A-Xian’s favored spicy dishes--while it’s something, she already knows he had grown up in Yunmeng and can tolerate spice. She just doesn’t know whether he likes it or not.

It has almost become a game, to her, if not to him--though she thinks it might be, at least a little, for she sees the flash of satisfaction in his eyes when he lets her take his arm and breathes deeply, taking in the scent of the incense she had let envelop her as she dressed that morning. “You smell wonderful,” he murmurs and she feels herself flush up her neck, even though it had been the whole point of steeping herself in it to begin with.

“Thanks to you.” When she lays her head on his shoulder--partially in thanks, partially to hide her pink cheeks--she feels him lean closer.

She wants to delight him, to see him pleased and surprised into a genuine smile. But more than anything, she truly wants to know more about him.

There is an inkling of a clue when she buys a guan for him made of graceful silver arches that form a lotus that seems to sit upon water that is reminiscent of the hair pin he had gotten her. When she presents it to him at bedtime, he seems surprised. He lets loose a soft, “oh,” turning it this way and that in his hands. Watching him, triumphant, she slides out her own pin and twirls it next to the guan, allowing her hair to begin its tumble down. “We’ll match.”

For a moment, he simply looks between the two ornaments, one hand coming out to slide his fingertips down the beaded chain of hers. Then, he smiles at her, and it’s wide and very nearly new. “We will.”

“You like it?”

“Of course, it’s beautiful! I will like everything that you choose to give me.”

She scrunches her nose and tweaks his cheek. “Well, that’s hardly fair! How will I know if you truly do and aren’t just pretending for my sake?”

Turning, he picks her hand up from the bed and chastely brushes his lips across her knuckles. “I will like them because you are the one who gave them, A-Li.”

And at long last, it’s something! Because she thinks it’s true. Perhaps, for him, like it is for her, it is not the usefulness, or the beauty of the thing, but the loving it was given from. She has kept the little drawings A-Xian has given her since he was young, the little carved creatures of wood and soap that A-Cheng used to whittle her (though, realistically, they are little more than blobs she was told are bears and the like. Whatever they look like, they are blobs of love.) She has them lined up on a shelf in her old room, and has brought a few over to the room shared by A-Yao. They make her smile to see because they were made for her; love in a little scene she can revisit through touch again and again. Sometimes, she simply holds them and remembers how it used to be.

This, she decides, is probably what she should focus on for A-Yao--a shelf of happy memories and the knowledge he is loved.

So, when she is sitting in her favorite pavilion one bright and breezy morning and He Si, one of the servants, delivers a gorgeous new calligraphy set to her and informs her with a barely contained grin that her husband has sent it, Yanli sets to work. After she unpacks and marvels over shiny new things, of course. It’s all sleek and beautiful and of the highest quality.

All morning, she uses his new gift to write him notes that she spends the afternoon ferreting away into places he will find them--like in his pockets or his desk drawers or under his spare boots. Some of them are little lines of poems she cherishes, one or two are shy sketches of the butterflies that had visited and twined through the fluttering, gauzy green curtains as she wrote, and more, still, are idle little thoughts she thinks will warm him. ‘I will be pleased to see you at dinner.’ ‘Remember not to work too hard.’ ‘Have a good day.’

She even gets the joy of seeing him find one while on a walkway, tucked in between 2 delivered missives with the help of He Si’s sleight of hand. The brisk, dutiful stride to business pauses and Yanli watches his slightly bowed head as he reads, the sunlight sliding down his hair like silk. When he looks up and around, she slips behind a delicately carved pillar on impulse so that he can’t see her. Then, she peeks back around. He’s looking back down at the slip of paper in his hand, his mouth a small curl of aching fondness. This one had said, ‘thinking of you.’ Warmth spreads through her when he folds it, neatly and carefully, into his fingers and presses his knuckles to his lips, closing his eyes. It is a moment of him with no mask in sight and she would feel sheepish for intruding if it didn’t bring her such happiness just to see his own. Even after he resumes his purposeful stride and disappears indoors, she is grinning, glowing, and allows herself a moment to seek out He Si to review the heist. “Did it please him?” the girl demands, excited. “What did it say?”

“It’s a secret,” Yanli teases. “And oh yes it did.”

It continues in this manner almost daily, when his gifts allow it; he gives her a parasol and she invites him on a walk under it with her; he buys rich embroidery thread and she weaves a delicate braid for him to wear or display a pendant from. He presents her with a fine silken handkerchief that she returns only days later, embroidered and thoroughly infused with the incense he had given her, draped over his pillow. Sadly, she didn’t get to witness this discovery, but she does see him slip it from his inner pocket as he removes his outer robes, that evening. As she watches him from the bed, Yanli resists the most absurd urge to bashfully pull the covers up over her nose and asks, “You...found it, then?”

Instead of answering, he slowly sits on her side instead of his and spreads it between them on the covers with deliberate care, one side of his mouth tucked up, that dimple pressed in sweetly in the lantern-light. “A pair of mandarin ducks,” he observes, voice quiet, eyes on the handkerchief as he runs his fingertips over it.

“I stitched them myself.”

“They are masterfully done and the colors are beautiful.”

“It was the thread you gave me. I wanted....” The intentions, the symbolism gets caught on her tongue and she blushes. Husband, she has to remind herself. It’s allowed! It’s expected! A long and happy marriage is what one is supposed to want. He makes the prospect of closeness and affection all at once so mysterious and alluring, almost a forbidden thing (though the thought is a ridiculous one, she admits.) “Do you like it?”

He raises his eyes to her and they are night soft. “A-Li, may I kiss you?”

Yanli’s heart jumps to her throat in an anticipatory sort of apprehension and her hands twist in her lap. Anxious without fear; she trusts this and him. “You may.”

Though she had kissed his mouth once before, he had been still, accepting the simple press and nothing more. Now, as he leans in, his hands settle lightly on her jaw, tilting her face up to him, his lips are a sure, gentle slide over hers. It’s odd to have someone so close to her face, and it’s warmer than she would have thought--not to mention wetter. But not bad.

Oh no, definitely not bad.

A-Yao kisses her with the same keen attention he gives everything else; controlled and intent. It feels as if he is slowly sampling her, sometimes the pressure feather-like and almost tickling, and other times an earnest press, inviting her along. The entirety of her skin grows hot at the realization she is being experienced and she can feel her heartbeat as if her entire chest is a drum. He makes it easy, a song that sounds vaguely familiar without completely knowing the next step. She doesn’t feel lost or stupid or silly. She feels wanted. Precious.

When he draws back, her lips are tingling--who would have thought such an ordinary part of her face could produce that much sensation? One would think she would have noticed this before!--and he is watching her carefully. His own lips are slightly pinker and without thinking, she reaches out to touch them, wonderingly. His watchfulness melts at her touch and he smiles against her fingertips--his mouth is warm, like her own when she lifts her other hand to compare.

“That was….”

“Good?”

“Oh, it was strange but I think I liked it. I--can we try again?”

A-Yao laughs and reaches out as she eagerly shuffles forward on her knees. Yanli allows him to draw her onto his lap sideways but, this time, she reaches out and draws him down. And being the good, patient man that he is, he lets her try again and again as she wishes, moving as she does.

There is no sudden revelation or awakening as she had secretly hoped there might be with such a kiss, (how easy that would have been, if all the whispers and stories and songs had all aligned with ultimate clarity and understanding within her, if it was all at once as easy as everyone else made it seem). But it is new and oddly pleasant to simply be in his arms, closer than she has ever been before, sharing with him. He pulls away and takes her wrist, eyebrows pinched. “You’re shaking. Are you alright?”

Oh. It seems she is. It isn’t fear, but instead a sort of deep trembling that seems to originate from her core, almost like excitement or the kind of giddy terror of a friend chasing you in a game of tag. She smiles up at him. “It’s...new. I think I’m just getting used to it. You’re my first kiss.”

Something she can’t define as positive or negative before it’s gone passes over his face and he gathers her up, burying his face in her neck, squeezing. She curls back around him, hands stroking his soft hair. “I’m so glad it’s you,” she murmurs, the ghosts of the kisses still shimmering on her lips. “You’re so sweet and kind to me. How did I get so lucky?”

Against her throat, he sucks in a deep, shaking breath before pulling back to deliver an almost perfect smile, the slight tremble in the corner of his mouth the only thing betraying whatever depth of emotion he is feeling. “Jiang-furen,” he says with playful reproach. “You simply can’t steal my lines like that. What will I be left with?”

In response, she clasps his face and leans up to rub the tips of their noses together. "Oh, you're so very clever. I'm sure you'll think of something."

#peony to lotus #yaoli #UPDATE CORNER HELL YEAH #This one is much less angsty than the first chapter (and that's saying something) but in planning...this has grown a proto plot #(I mean we have 2 maladjusted people pleasers trying to make each other happy there's bound to be a few bumps in the road)#So there's going to be a bit of sadness and a dash of angst in the future but I'm going to keep with the theme #This is primarily just going to be me giving them nice things because I can #And there isn't going to be any dumb and avoidable misunderstandings #There's going to be at LEAST 1 more chapter. Maybe 2. We'll see how much they wanna be all gushy and shit #my stuff #my fic

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caxsthetic · 4 years

Text

Lost to Him

Miya Atsumu x F!Reader

He would do anything for them, even if that means he sacrifices his own happiness.

Pt. 2 < Part 3 > Ep.

"This is the longest time the two of you didn't talk to each other," The Miya's mother cut the silence on the dinner table one particular day, "You guys better settle this problem, fast. I don't know what it is about, but I don't like seeing my sons like this." She gracefully dab her lips before standing up from the table, finished with her dinner.

It was silence, just like these past few weeks. Yes, it's been five weeks since Miya Atsumu broke up with you through text. And the twins wouldn't talk to each other if it's not necessary. Osamu was enraged, remembering how your body flushed in the cold snows that day.

"You are stupid." That's the only thing he said before standing up, following his mother to clean his plate. Atsumu let out a long sigh before banging his forehead on the dinner table, contemplating his decision one more time, the decision that will last forever.

Volleyball practice was never the same these last two months without you being there. You were usually there to bring the whole team some onigiri, stopping him when he's too absorbed with practice, cheering him on when he does a service ace, it's all just silence now.

"Hey, Samu." The setter called out to his twin who was now laying in their bed, "Where were you going just now?" After the confession about how the wing spiker loves you, he just went to somewhere and came back around half an hour after.

"That's none of your business," Osamu's voice was full of anger, he couldn't believe that his twin just kissed someone else. Someone else that's not you.

The two of them just lay on their own bed, both couldn't sleep because their minds were filled with a certain girl. The setter was thinking about his girlfriend, someone that he took for granted. The wing spiker was thinking about someone that he loves, but couldn't have because she was taken.

They were thinking about you, the one girl who owned both of their hearts.

"D-Do you really love her?" Atsumu voiced what has been lingering inside his mind. He never stuttered before, but right now, he was just too afraid all of a sudden. Osamu blinked, noticing how his twin spoke differently.

"I do." The setter bit his lips by hearing those two words. Two simple words but it got him insane immediately. Atsumu may not look like it, but he loves his twin brother so much. The fact that they were in love with the same person was the biggest obstacle in his life, "Why?"

Why indeed. The question caught him off guard. He didn't particularly know why his heart acted like it would stop at any moment. Maybe because right now, he was in the middle of letting the two of his most precious people in the world for being together.

"Since when?" He cleared his throat, trying to dig as much information as he could. It scared him now, knowing someone else loving you. He never bothered if it's just some random guy, he wouldn't even bother if it's the best setter in the world.

But it was his twin brother, someone who breathed the first air together with him at the same time.

"Since the first time we cooked together," Atsumu almost choked by the answer. He was lost when it came to who was the one loving you longer. The first time they made the plan, they were still in the second term of their first year of junior high.

Five years, Miya Osamu has been in love with you for five years and his twin brother didn't even notice it.

How hurt it would be for the grey haired boy to see him barge into the door that day after his first kiss with you and shouting, "I couldn't believe she agreed to be my girlfriend."

Osamu didn't need to ask who the girl was at that time, he knew too well. The fact he had been silent when they were so lovey dovey in front of him, it was all because he felt like he needed to get used to it. Because he knew too, that the girl he loves, fell for his twin instead of him.

"I am sorry," Now, this is something that Osamu thought would never get out from his twin's lips. He immediately looked down to the bunk bed where the setter lay.

"Are you sick?" They just looked at each other and blinked, "Did I just hear you say sorry?" Atsumu glared at him, but it was more like an annoyed glare rather than an angry one.

"I am not," The setter flicked his twin's forehead, "But I am really sorry." Osamu just sighed and got back to his previous position. His grey orbs staring at the ceiling. It's weird that talking about it made him feel relieved.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," He knew how much Atsumu loved you, he realised how his brown orbs would lit up immediately at the sight of you. And to see the two of them happy together felt like he had done the right thing after all, "Just do something for the two of you."

But the tragic things between them, twins would always be twins. No matter how different they were, they share the same thought every now and then. And now, they thought the same about you.

Your friends were all worried about you when they saw you the next day after you broke up. There was a dark circle under your eyes, it was puffy and you looked so pale. They knew that you and the famous setter were on a rough path, but they didn't think the two of you would end the journey there.

The pain was still there no matter how many days were passed. It was lunch time now, and you didn't bother to buy some lunch. You unlocked your phone, searching for his name. What you did was self-destruction, it hurt you every time you saw his name. But somehow, you couldn't just forget everything about him.

Your daydreaming was cut short when you saw a plastic of onigiri dropped on your desk. You blinked and looked up to see a familiar face. The face that you were longing for, the face that was so similar to someone that you love. If it's not because of the grey orbs, they would have the same facade.

"Your friends said you never get out to buy lunch." You were just silent as he sat on the chair in front of you, too shocked to emit even one word, "So, I supposed I would give you this instead." There's no expression on his face, but how the words rolled from his lips, you knew that he cared, "Please eat-"

He widened his eyes at the sight if you. Your eyes were glossy as tears were already prickling at the side of your orbs. You bit your lips, trying to control your emotion that was at the peak right now.

You missed this, you missed this so much that it hurts. You missed how the twins would show up at your class and dragged you to the cafeteria. You missed the taste of their cooking, you even missed how horrible Atsumu cooking was.

Since that day, you haven't felt any of those habits anymore. It's not just Atsumu who was gone from your life, the days changed drastically that you didn't even recognize it anymore.

Osamu didn't have tissue or a handkerchief to wipe the tears away, so he decided to wear his thumb instead. He was frantic inside, it broke him every time he saw you cry like this. He felt guilty, since he knew the one who caused this forlorn state of yours was his twin.

"I-I am sorry for crying-" You sobbed and tried to smile, wiping your remaining tears by yourself, "I looked so miserable oh my god." You snorted, something that was not lady-like at all. But it's something you always did to turn your sadness into a joke.

He just gave you a little smile. That smile was so genuine and soft, unlike his twin that was more into a smirk and cheeky smile. Once again, he pushed the onigiri on you, silently begging you to eat it. You chuckled at this and unwrapped the plastic.

You bite it, and you immediately close your eyes with how much the taste warmed your heart. It brings nostalgia to your soul, remembering how the smooth rice would roll in your tongue so easily. You must have noticed that late night onigiri was made by Osamu instead of your boyfriend, or now, your ex-boyfriend.

The taste was similar yet so different. Atsumu would like the filling to be more savoury, while Osamu would love to balance the flavor so there's no overwhelming taste. The two were different, but you love it all nevertheless.

The wing spiker put his chin on your desk, noting every single thing from your face that he could catch. You teared up, but he had a gut feeling that it's not because of the same reason from before. So he smiled, gazing at you with adoration from his grey orbs.

"It's good?" He asked with a pure curiosity, he added something different and wanted you to taste it. He wanted you to be the first person who judged his cooking. It's not like you were a professional taster or something, but he knew you would evaluate it fair and square.

"It's perfect, Samu." He loves it, how his name rolled from your tongue like a blessing, "It's new isn't it? The taste was so familiar, but I could taste something else inside." The grey haired boy let out a small grin and straightened his posture.

"Yeah, about that-" It's like he was someone else when it comes to food. He could talk for hours about it until everyone would be bored. But you would never, there's always a glimmer in his eyes every time he talked about it.

You loved it, the passion that was emitted from someone when they talked about something that they love so much. You were always there at their practice before, because you loved to see the setter's eyes when he played. Just like now, you were just eating up the remaining onigiri in silence, eyes focusing on the boy in front of you.

He may look identically the same with Atsumu, but he was a whole different person. Osamu was always the gentle one, he didn't really like to draw attention. But he could be snide and his sarcasm was always on point.

This is the first time you actually looked at him with different light. You noted how he moved his hand a lot when he talked about food or how he raised his eyebrows when he asked for opinion.

The two of you were so absorbed with the warm conversation. A pair of brown eyes bore inside the classroom through the window as he saw his twin talk to you so freely.

He wanted that, he wanted to be the one who talked with you. Goofing around like he used to do with you every single day. But he didn't want to break the smile that you create on your visage, something that was missing from you since the day his pride was eating him alive.

You looked so calm now, talking to his twin like the break up never happened. He smiled lovingly at the sight before walking away from his spot. That was his intention from the start after all. When he knew how much his twin loves you, he knew for sure that it was the best to let you go.

Atsumu was someone who would do anything to get what he wanted. And he wanted to be selfish like he always did to have you in his arms again. But then, his way of thinking started to change. Because now, it's resolving around his twin too.

You were not just someone that he loves, it's not just him that wanted you forever in his life. But his twin always wanted you in his life too, and this tore him apart every day since he knew the facts.

For him, loving you is a blessing. You were the first person that could make him feel like this. You were the only person that he wanted to keep in his life beside his family. But then again, you were someone that his twin loves so much.

And he couldn't endure to be the one who kept you from someone that could treat you better than himself.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Atsumu paused the game when he heard his twin's voice, "Why did you break it off like that?" He knew that the wing spiker finally understood the reason behind his action that he took. So he just let out a long sigh and continue to play,

"It doesn't matter now," It's true, he already made up his decision, and he didn't want to change that. Suddenly, the console on his hand was being ripped off from his grasp.

"IT IS MATTER TO ME!" Osamu gripped his collar, and it brought back a memory from a few weeks ago, "Why?" He asked again, desperation emanated from the grey orbs, "Why did you break it off when you still love her?"

Atsumu smiled, and it was the only answer that the wing spiker needed. He dropped the setter gently to the ground. Knowing for sure why his twin decided to break up with you. Osamu sat on the carpeted floor of their shared bedroom, trying to process what just happened in their life.

"You love her though, right, Tsumu?" His voice was like a whisper, he didn't actually need a confirmation. He knew his twin too well, "I don't know how your mind works sometimes."

"We are the same, Samu." Atsumu lay on the ground, looking at the ceiling, "We both want her to be happy, and at the same time," He turned his head, looking at his twin brother who was now emitting guilt from his face, "We knew who suit her better."

Osamu snorted at this, shaking his head with the newfound information. The two of them were twins after all, they wanted you to be happy, and they wanted their twin to be happy with her.

But there's only one twin who could have you, and Atsumu knew immediately that he had lost from the battle of having you. No matter how much he loves you, he could only hope that it was the right decision to let you go.

"You are stupid," Osamu kicked the setter's arm with a playful demeanour, "Really stupid and just an utter imbecile." Atsumu's eyebrows twitched at the insult, "But thank you,"

Atsumu was ready to throw another insult at his twin, but he stopped when he heard the last three words. He smiled, could already picture you with his twin brother instead of him. Slowly, he was sure that you would open up your heart for someone else.

Even if it's not him, even if it would never be him again to be the one who holds you close, he knew it was the best path that he chose. Either for you, or for his twin.

"You are welcome."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ༶• ┈┈ ⛧ ┈ ♛ ♛ ┈ ⛧ ┈┈ •༶ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tagged Lovelies:

@allywritesimagines @benewol @letmeshouyou @nitricflame @vventure @heccingdead @muffins-puffins @miyulovestowrite @nanashinanashi @muffngw @vlovers-world @proplayer-kenma @kashika @cuddlyasahi @blacckdiamondposts @muffngw @baby-boy-taichi @of-heroes-and-dreams @bobothecircusclown @call-me-prodigy @xjaelee @miyatsunami @ncityluvvs

#atsumu miya #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya imagine #atsumu miya scenario #atsumu miya drabble #miya atsumu imagine #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu drabble #haikyuu season 4 #atsumu fluff #atsumu angst

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theshylittleelfgirl · 4 years

Text

Whew! this idea has been in my noggin for a while now and i finally had the brain power to actually write it! Horaaay for BIG BRAIN! If you liked this story please be sure to leave a comment to let me know if i should continue it or if you liked it, There's going to be some spelling errors i pray that you forgive that! It is awfully late here and my brain is fried right now lol

I added a little bit more to the story not much, It was really bothering me so i fixed it! Part 2 will be coming soon :D

Enjoy!❤

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I was sitting in Levi's office reading a book on his couch, I have finished my daily routine, I decided to spend my free time with levi.

But that short fucker was To busy doing paperwork.

We haven't had sex in like a year....A Year!

I was always trying to get him in the mood, running my fingers up his sides in the morning trying to make my intentions clearer, but apparently he got all huffy and said 'Quit pestering me brat, I'm trying to sleep here.' and then he would roll back on his side facing away from me.

'What a rude shithead' i huffed.

Then an idea popped in my head, it was getting pretty late maybe just maybe we can have sex and fall asleep cuddling, It would usually help the both of us relax after a long day.

"Hey levi?" i said in an innocent voice.

"What?" he said irritated he looked up at me briefly then back down at his paperwork.

I strutted over to him standing behind his chair massaging his shoulders unbuttoning the top of his shirt ghosting my fingers over his collarbone. "I'm going to get ready for bed, why don't you join me?" i whispered seductively into his ear. "Maybe i can show you how flexible i've become." i nipped his earlobe.

"No, I can't leave this paperwork you go ahead and lay down." his face remained stoic not phased in the slightest.

I growled and stood in front of his desk slamming my hands down but not getting his attention what so ever "All you ever do is paperwork levi! i get its part of your job but fuck! we haven't had sex in a year, A Fucking Year Levi! i've tried everything to get your attention but you continuously refuse my advances, What do i have to do? Write "Fuck Me" on my forehead to get your attention?" i panted after my rant my face red with anger.

He finally looked at me for the first time this night his icy glare pierced through me like a dagger. "If all you want to do is spread your legs then your not fit to be in the scouts, You want to be fucked so bad? then go find someone else to do the job, I got priorities to attend to and you aren't one of them, Now shut the fuck up and leave me the hell alone!" he snarls when he was met with silence only then did he realize he fucked up, "Y/n, I-i.." he couldn't muster up the courage to apologize for his shitty words.

Hair fell in front of my eyes "If that's what you really think of me then i think our relationship is officially over Captain, I won't bother you ever again." i went into 'our' room grabbing a bag i began stuffing my belongings toiletries,clothes,drawings into said bag. He heard the dresser jores being opened and closed 'Shit! she's going to leave! do something moron!' he jumped out of his chair rushing into the room and saw me packing my things. "Y/n, baby, Wait please i didn't mean what i said i swear, I'm just stressed that's all." he tried placing a hand on my shoulder i shrugged it off. "Don't." i said darkly "Don't fucking touch me." once my things were packed i swung my bag on my shoulder walking right past him not sparing him a glance.

I reached the door i felt him grab my arm i halted my movements. "Please don't do this." he begged.

I ripped my arm out of his grip "I hope your paperwork can keep you warm at night, Captain, because i won't be anymore, Asshole." i opened the door slowly shutting it not wanting to wake up the other soldiers.

I walked the dark halls trying to find hanji's room 'I should of brought a lantern with me.' once i knew i was far enough away from levi's room i slid down a wall it was only then that his words started to sink in 'Asshole...what a fuckin asshole! Mikasa warned me about him why didn't i listen to her? god i'm so stupid.' i laid my bag beside me hugging my knee's to my chest i sighed 'I tried so hard to see his side on things, To understand his pain what he went through, Understanding how he was about as romantic as a cactus, His cleaning obsession's, I tried so hard for him.' I buried my face in my knee's silent tears fell down my face.

I began to sob 'Why would he say something so fucking cruel?!' hugging my knee's tighter i began to shake.

"Y/n?" he deep masculine voice echoed in the halls.

I looked up to see a bright orange light illuminate a tall manly figure then i looked up to their face.

"Erwin?" my voice cracked

"Y/n, What happened? your eyes are almost swollen shut." he kneeled in front of me.

"Levi he....he." tears began to pour from my eyes. "He hates me, He thinks i'm some kind of whore who will spread her legs openly for any man, He told me i wasn't fit for the scouts, that i'm basically a burden on him." i sobbed into my hands shaking even harder.

Erwin sighs "Levi has always had a sharp tongue sometimes he doesn't think things through clearly." he looked to your side and noticed a bag. "You have no where to sleep, Why don't you come into my office and you can take my bed i'll take the couch, How does that sound?" he gently placed a hand on your shoulder.

I looked up at him tears still falling from my eyes. "I'm not going to kick you out of your own room Erwin, i wouldn't feel right doing that to you." you looked away embarrassed that the commander saw you in this state, but he's seen me like this countless times he and i were friends after all we would share our burdens over a glass of whiskey once in a while.

He took my small hands into his calloused ones and squeezed them reassuringly "I have no problem with sleeping on the couch, I hardly ever use the bed anyways, So you wouldn't be taking anything away from me." he smiled gently.

I looked into his calm ocean eyes i hesitated for a minute but nodded "Okay, i will if it's truly no problem." sighing knowing there was no arguing with him.

"Its settled then, Lets get you to bed, You must be exhausted." He let go of my hands and stood up he lent his hand to me, I took it and he helped me stand noticing my tear stained cheeks he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a handkerchief he offered it to me.

I took it from him and gently began dabbing the soft fabric on my eyes and cheeks, I offered it back to him and he held up his hand "Keep it, You need it more then i do, Besides i have a million of those things in my dresser." he chuckled picking up the lantern.

A small smile formed on my lips i nodded stuffing the handkerchief into my pocket.

"Shall we then? you'll catch your death in this cold hallway." he inclined his head in the direction of his room/office.

I reached down and grabbed my bag off of the floor slinging it over my shoulder once more.

"Lets go." i simply said erwin began walking down the dark hallways if it wasn't for his lantern lighting the way i would of been lost forever in these damnable stone hallways.

"If you don't mind me asking, Why was he being so harsh this time? not that i'm excusing those awful untrue things he said." eyes glued to the steps in front of him.

I looked away from his back my voice deeply saddens. "I just wanted him to come to bed and relax with me, I'm sorry if this is to much info but we always made love and then we would cuddle afterwards whenever he was stressed and he was extremely stressed tonight, so i offered to help him relax and that's when he..." i choked down my sob breathing rapidly.

"E-erwin do you think he's...?" i couldn't finish the words 'Would he stoop so low that he would cheat on me? Am i not enough for him anymore? does he take me for a woman who would sleep around with other men? Why would he say those horrible things to me? What have i done wrong other then try to love him flaws and all?' a million thoughts ran through my mind, i felt a weight on my head i looked up to see erwin looking at me sadly he ruffled my hair.

"No, Levi is definitely not the type to run around, He really loves you y/n, I bet he feels absolutely awful for what he said and i imagine he's beating himself up over it, Levi is a tough person to get along with but you have dedicated your heart and soul to him, He wouldn't throw that away just for some random woman, Not only are you the bravest most loyal soldier your the most kindest caring person as well, That's a rare thing in these times, He's lucky to have someone like you y/n." he took his hand away so he could look into my eyes.

I began to tear up again. "His words cut me deep erwin, I don't know when or if i'll ever forgive him, his hurtful words are still fresh in my mind, But i do appreciate what you said to me, That's probably the nicest thing i have heard in a while." i smiled through the tears.

He nods. "Its going to take some time for you to heal and that's completely understandable, You are more then welcome to stay in my room for as long as you want to, But if you ever feel uncomfortable, Hanji isn't that far from where i am, She would more then welcome you to stay, Just be prepared to be interrogated she doesn't give up easily." he sighs

"I'm fully aware." I giggled a little taking the handkerchief dabbing my eyes again.

He smiled and began walking again i followed him looking back into the dark hallway wondering what he's doing right now, i sighed directing my head towards the back of the commander.

Unbeknownst to you, Levi lingered behind one of the archways (is that what they call it? its 3am give me a break lol) listening in on yours and erwins chat.

He clenched his hands into a tight fist knuckles whitening. "I fucked up, Now eyebrows is going to take her away from me, I'm such a fool." he ran his fingers through his hair.

"I have to fix this, No, I Need to fix this, But how? i'm clearly shit at my words." he sighed

"Maybe hanji can help?" he started to feel hopeful, he was either desperate or crazy to even consider help from the mad scientist, Definitely crazy.

With his mind made up, He pushed off the archway(?) looking at that orange light fade away into the darkness once more he turned away and began walking back to his room.

"Please don't give up on me y/n." he pleaded.

To Be Continued.

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi attack on titan #angst #romance #comfort #jealousy

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sweetestlamb · 4 years

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Stronger Part 2 (Get Lost)

Summary: Mun-yeong makes amends with someone very special in her life and confronts someone she didn’t expect to see.

Notes: I cackle manically every time I write this story, it’s a problem LMAO. I’ll try to update at least once a week since it’s such short chapters and I have most of it planned in my head since I’ve been thinking about this forever.

Sang-in finds her sobbing on the edge of the staircase, her whimpers painfully loud in the room, wet streaks pouring from her eyes. He simply takes her hand, she's limp in his arms it's clear he was expecting a fight, but she simply doesn't have anymore in her.

Like a small child she lets him pull her into her room and deposit her in the bed, cocooning her in the thick sheets and wiping her tears with a soft handkerchief he pulls from his pocket. He mumbles soft words of comfort to her, there there and it'll be okay, and she wants to lash out, yearns to thrash and scream that nothing will ever be okay. She's not okay.

However he'd seemed okay. Gang-tae. After a moment's pause it seemed he was fine to just walk out the door and leave her in the past. She'd been a small blip in the grand scheme of his life, a petulant child that wouldn't take his rejections and stabbing words for what they were, deterrents.

CAUTION:DO NOT ENTER.

But she'd thought herself special, what they had unusual, she'd opened up to him about things no one else has ever known. It seemed like he had done the same for her, secrets whispered in the dark of night.

With him she'd been different. Leaving herself open in ways she'd never imagined before and her greatest fear had been recognized, he had seen her core and smashed it to pieces only to return with empty words and promises.

I'm sorry.

Those were the words she longed to hear, but he never uttered them. Not once. And it appeared he never would, he would continue to push her away and pull her back when it was convenient for him. And she was expected to wait for his cue, an obedient dog that should accept abuse and callous words.

It was hard to pinpoint when he'd tamed her and made her so pathetic, but she had no intentions of remaining this way.

I will be better.

Stronger.

It takes day before she feels enough like herself before she leaves the bed, showering and arranging herself into some semblance of the person others have come to expect.

Hair perfectly combed and curled.

Deep wine dress with a high collar and ruffles.

Expensive towering heels, sharp enough to draw blood and a small bag worth more than rent.

Her heart is still broken but he hasn't called or text, further proving her point. She is expendable.

With a deep sigh and a final look in the mirror she leaves.

"Hello." She greets, head bowed in respect, feeling suddenly shy and not knowing what to do with this novel emotion.

Ju-ri's mother, Soon-duk smiles warmly at her before stepping aside to let her in. Her shoulder heats up from the motherly hand that leads in her.

"Come in, it's nice to see you. You look beautiful today."

She feels her cheeks pinken from the compliment, the woman is perpetually praising her and it's so uncommon that she finds herself basking in the warmth.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, are you looking for Ga--"

"No." The strength and conviction of her response causes the woman to step back as shock colors her face. She doesn't doesn't want to hear his name. She still isn't strong enough to do so without crumbling.

"I'm here to see Sang-tae. I want to apologize to him."

Soon-duk looks taken back before a wider smile fills her face, absently she wonders how the woman looked in her youth she's quite beautiful in her own regard. One day maybe she'll say those words aloud and watch her reaction.

"He only left his room yesterday, he's upstairs on the roof. He'll be happy to see you."

She silently hopes those words are true, she's never had a friend before, a true one that didn't run when things became hard or turned their back on you because others found you unusual. Sang-tae has come to mean a lot to her, someone who sees her and accepts her and challenges her. A true friend.

At first, he's reluctant to speak to her running and locking himself away, forcing her to speak to him through the bedroom window.

She explains herself in a language that they've both come to understand, fairy tales. A language she is fluent in and has used to share her deepest feelings with others.

Interprets the story of The Boy Who Cried Wolf, tells him of her impenetrable loneliness, she's been alone for so long but having a friend has shown her the beauty of letting others in, so much so the thought of going back to the way she lived sounds unimaginable and cruel.

There is silence, long and crawling after she's done speaking, she waits patiently staring at the moon.

Then finally he responds, "Are you lonely? Is that what the story means? Are you lonely Ko Mun-yeong?"

He never sugar-coats anything, never spares her feelings, that's what she's come to like about him. He's unapologetic and frank, just as she is with him treating him exactly how she treats others.

"You're not answering. If you want me to forgive you, you have to be sincere. If you're sincere then I will believe you otherwise you're just crying wolf."

She smiles humorlessly, to be so understood by one who has difficulties connecting to others is unsettling.

"Yes. I'm lonely. I miss you, I miss my best friend."

The sound of the window opening echoes and suddenly they are face to face, his brows drawn in consternation.

"You're telling the truth, your face doesn't look like you're lying."

She nods, "I am. I'm sorry I made you feel left out, I should have been honest with you. I promise I will be in the future."

He tilts his head cutely like a puppy before imploring, "Will you have fun with Gang-tae without me again? You can't have him."

The similar tinge of pain that implodes every time she hears his name detonates in her heart but she fights through it desperate to reconcile with Sang-tae.

"I won't. I just want to be your best friend again, he's yours; he's always been yours."

It hurts, like a throbbing wound that has reopened but she means it. Gang-tae was never truly hers, she was merely his mistress a dirty secret to hide away, temporary and it was time to accept that but she could still repair her relationship with Sang-tae, he made everything a little bit better. A dash of happiness.

Sang-tae looks surprised by her answer but he doesn't question her thankfully, instead rewarding her with a smile, it's tiny but it makes her heart grow three times larger.

Maybe all wasn't lost and she could fix the wrongs she'd made.

They make plans to see each other in two days, they need to work on their book, she has some ideas for a storyline. She's always written about her suffering, this time will be no different.

She hears him before she sees her, she screams at her body to move, flee but he flight or fight is broken, halted by his sudden unexpected appearance. She was told he was working overtime, news provided by Sang-in from Ju-ri.

Defying her information, he turns the corner with Jae-su and immediately like they are opposite magnets their eyes gravitate to each other. She watches him pause mid-laughter. His smile melting off his face as he watches her.

Jae-su babbles on unaware of his friends condition, slapping at his shoulder and guffawing at whatever hilarious story he'd been regaling before he too notices the eerie silence. When he notices her dark figure he jumps, hiding behind Gang-tae.

His reaction is enough to drag her from her stillness, her eyes dropping to the ground she makes her way to her car, keys jingling as she pulls them from her bag.

Behind her Gang-tae's deep voice rumbles as he speaks to Jae-su, his words are indecipherable. Taking deep breaths she quickens her movements, cursing herself as her key falls from her hand in her rush, clanking on the ground.

Before she can retrieve them, his hand fills her vision as he picks them up for her, sheepish grin on his face.

She takes the proffered keys from his hands, nodding in acknowledgment before opening the door and sliding into the seat. She goes to close the door when she feels resistance, she pulls harder but still the door refuses to close.

Glancing up she finds his hand on the door, prying it open his muscled hand flexing as he prevents the door from closing.

Finally lowering her hand, she turns to look at him. Staring at him with passive eyes, careful not to let anything slip through.

"You came to see me."

His words are a punch to the solar plexus, knocking the breath from her lungs.

Her brain short circuits and then turns back on, whirling at the audacity and confidence that oozes off him. He is failing immensely to keep a small grin off his face, eyes dancing as he looks at her eagerly.

She wants to punch it off his face.

"No. Why would I come to see you?"

His grin cracks.

"I tried to avoid you. I wanted to see Sang-tae and now that I have, I'll be going. Let go of my car."

His entire face crumbles like sand under a boot, his hand falls to his side as he gazes at her with soft pleading eyes. The amount of times those eyes are rendered her helpless makes her recoil in disgust.

"What's wrong with you? I don't understand why you're being like this! I tried to give you space but I don't get it, I opened up to you isn't that what you've been begging for!"

His anger cracks at her whip sharp, and all the rage deep beneath her surface bubbles up as she turns to glare at him.

"I want nothing to do with you. I'm sorry I ever met you, leave me alone. I will not be begging you for anything in the future." Reaching over to pick up the object she had stored in the backseat, she throws it harshly at him, it bounces off his chest.

"You can have Mang-tae, I don't need it anymore. Just like I don't need you. I only need Sang-tae. You got your wish I'll get lost, you do the same."

Satisfaction surges under her skin as she watches the hurt bloom on his face, his eyes open and expressive screaming at her but she slams up all her walls, she will not be weak any longer.

No fucking way.

Turning the key viciously in the ignition, the engine revs to life and he's forced to jump back to avoid losing his foot as she screeches off, smoke left in her wake.

She watches him getting smaller and smaller in the side mirror, before reversing.

A small hopeful glint flashes in his eyes, she immediately snuffs that out.

"I need my car back, you can give the keys to Sang-tae. "

The tires squeal as she peels out again, manic smile on her face as she laughs, elated at the look on his face. Finally she is the one abandoning him, the one to hurt and belittle. Her deep chuckles boom in the small space of the car as she drives back to her castle and its ominous silence.

Her lap is warm and wet from the tears that escape, she allows herself this final moment of anguish. These are the last tears she'll waste crying over him and their ill-fated romance.

#psycho but it's okay #psycho but it's okay fanfiction #its okay to not be okay fic #its okay to not be okay #ko mun yeong #moon gang tae #kim soo hyun #seo ye ji #MY makes GT work for her forgiveness #next chapter will be GT pov #the groveling will start #I love the boy #but sometimes he's an idiot #and mean

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the-oc-lass · 4 years

Text

Second Chances - The Prologue

*Waves* Hi there. I wanted to promote my book Second Chances (I will put the links to my Wattpad and Ao3 accounts at the bottom of the post - or remind me to post them if I forget to) by posting the prologue here and letting everyone have a taste of my work. So, like, weeeeee.

(Note: I know my work isn’t perfect so feel free to leave suggestions on how I can make my writing better. I need to get better with criticism)

(Note #2: This is a Hamilton AU fic from the perspective of OCs, so there you go)

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO...

The End and The Beginning:

It’s a dreary day, yet so beautiful. These days are always nice. The lovely day is shattered as a single gunshot, followed by another, rings through the air. I freeze and listen, before creeping through the streets slowly. I look around, ever careful. Then my eyes find him, lying there on the cobblestones. I gasp.

“Philip,” I breath, before rushing to his side and falling to my knees. His hands are pressing against a bleeding wound. Although I know how little it will help, I pull a handkerchief out and press it over the wound in a feeble attempt to absorb the blood. His breathing is ragged, and I’m scared.

“Someone get a Doctor!” I scream, looking around the streets. Whoever had shot him is nowhere to be seen. A coward! I look back down at Philip’s face. It’s contorted in pain and agony, and his eyes hold so much fear as they stare up at me.

“Everything will be alright. Come here,” I say gently. I lift his head and place it in my lap, and he hisses in pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I whisper, brushing his hair off his forehead. He has tears on his face, and looks so afraid. I run my fingers through his hair slowly, hoping to soothe him and calm him down. He makes a strangled noise, and I shush him softly.

“Hush. I’ll take care of you until you’re brought to a doctor. Please, save what strength you have. You must survive, for your family,” I say, pausing to brush my thumb gently across his freckled cheek. Blood smears across where I touched. He coughs, and I shush him again softly, still stroking my thumb across his cheek, ignoring the blood. The expression shaping his face is breaking my heart. I want nothing more than to comfort him. He reaches a hand up toward me, and I pull one of mine from his hair to hold it. His hand is still covered in his blood, but I don’t care. Mine is too.

“Who are you?” he manages to ask in a strained voice. He doesn’t know who I am...Of course he doesn’t. I smile softly down at him, giving his hand a comforting squeeze.

“It does not matter. I am just someone who could not leave you here all alone. For, fear only grows in the privacy of one's own thoughts,” I say. He makes a strangled noise that sounds something like a laugh. He’s smiling at me very slightly.

“You are a poet?” he asks. I give his hand another squeeze and continue to run my fingers through his hair.

“Something of the sort, Mr. Hamilton,” I say kindly. He continues to smile at me.

“Philip. Call me Philip,” he says. I smile back at him.

“Philip,” I correct myself quietly. He coughs again, and I frown with concern.

“Let us take him!” Men cry, and I raise my head to see them coming. They’ll take Philip to get the help he needs. I nod, and they hoist him from my lap.

“One minute,” I say, stopping them before they go. Philip is still holding my hand, and I hold it tightly before leaning down and kissing his forehead.

“All will be well, Philip. I promise,” I say softly. He squeezes my hand weakly, before he’s hauled away. And I stand there in the street for a moment. Blood sits sticky on my hand. My handkerchief is gone. It’s okay. As long as he is okay.

“M-mother, you cannot be serious,” I stutter, eyes wide with horror. My mother shakes her head.

“Too serious, my darling. He passed many hours after he left you. You are likely the last person outside of his blood that he saw,” she says, holding my hands in hers. Her eyes shine with sympathy, but all I can think of is the darkness from her words. Philip is dead. He didn’t recognize me, but I’ve known him for my whole life. He’s...The first man I’ve ever loved. And I knew the fear on his face as he laid in my lap, dying. And now he’s...I shake my head and draw back, refusing to believe it.

“They have lied. It is not true!” I say, voice overtaken by emotion. My mother reaches out for me once more, but I flee from her, into my father’s study. I lock her out, and move slowly to my father’s desk. I know he keeps a pistol inside the drawer. It’s a man’s job to carry on the legacy in the first place. This will not matter. I take up a quill, dip it in ink, and write. My words spill desperately across the parchment. For I am running out of time. My last poem, my last words. And the words I’m Sorry curling at the bottom. I do not sign my name. I place the quill down gently and lean down, opening the drawer containing my father’s pistol. There is a bang on the study door, and my mother is calling my name. I do not answer. I draw the pistol out. It is loaded, as it always is, and I know how to use it. Father was adamant that I learned how. I move over to the window, and I stare out it. The gun somehow doesn’t feel heavy in my hand. In fact, it feels nice. As if it were made to sit there. My mother is still calling for me. I lift the gun, and the metal feels cool against my head. I whisper an “I love you” into the air, and close my eyes. The air smells of books, paper, and ink. All of the things I love.

“I’m sorry, Philip, mon amour,” I whisper. My finger moves to the trigger. I take in a last deep breath, and push it down. Bang.

I open my eyes. It’s bright and beautiful here. For a moment, I wonder where I am. I wonder how I got here. And it all comes back. I look around, searching for anything or anyone.

“It’s you.” I turn toward the voice. And there’s a freckled face, framed by bouncing locks of curls. Philip. I reach a hand out slowly, carefully. He does too. Our hands meet, and his is...Warm. His hand is bigger than mine, and he has the calluses of a poet. The same as me.

“What did you do?” he asks me, a sad look on his face that should never sit there. I frown and turn my head away, hand dropping.

“I lied to a dying man. I removed the liar,” I say softly. His hand takes mine again, holding it.

“Miss, you said what was necessary to comfort a dying man. I do not feel as though you lied to me,” he says. I risk a glance, and his gaze on me is one that is kind and soft. Everything but angry.

“This is her?” another voice inquires. I turn. He’s a man in uniform, from a war long gone. A bouncy head of curls tied back. Something about him reminds me of Philip. Perhaps it is the freckles and the curls.

“This is her,” Philip confirms, and I glance back at him. My other hand is lifted, and a kiss is placed upon my knuckles. I stare at the top of his head for a moment, until he straightens.

“Who are-“

“John Laurens, Miss,” he says. My eyes widen.

“Laurens...My mother’s Laurens?” I ask. His brows wrinkle in confusion.

“Your mother?” he asks. I step toward him, tears in my eyes.

“Mr. Laurens...My name is Lilith Derven. I’m your goddaughter,” I say. His eyes widen, and he reaches out to take his face in my hands.

“You’re...My Anastasia’s daughter,” he says. I nod, and he pulls me to him. I bury my face into his chest.

“You’re just as beautiful as your mother. I can see her intelligence in your eyes...She must be so proud of you,” he says, holding my head. I laugh slightly, a tear running down my cheek.

“Lilith?” Philip mutters. I turn my head, and his mouth is agape as he stares at me.

“Hi, Philip. I was waiting for you to recognize me,” I say, smiling through the tears. He runs to me and sweeps me into his arms, lifting me and holding me close.

“How long has it been...My Lily. My beautiful Lilith. My best friend in this world, a poet greater than I, and the girl I’ve-“ He pauses, and sets me down.

“Laurens, could you-“

“I’ll leave you two be. I’d like to check up on Alexander anyway,” Laurens says. I hear him retreat, but my eyes are only on Philip. He takes my hands and stares me in the eye, cheeks flushed.

“I wish I’d told you when we were both alive...Maybe we wouldn’t be dead in the first place if I had. We’d just grown apart. I was busy with school, as were you, I’m sure. I’ve always known you wouldn’t require a man to become successful, so some part of me was afraid that if I told you...You’d turn me down, or I would hold you back from your dreams. I didn’t think I could. I wanted to be bold like my pops, but it seems like the boldest thing was the one thing I couldn’t do,” he says. I tilt my head slightly, giving him a kind look.

“Pip, what are you talking about?” I ask, using his old nickname. He squeezes my hands and looks down at them for a second, then back up into my eyes.

“Lilith...I’ve been in love with you since I was ten years old,” he says. My face flushes and my lips part in surprise.

“You...Love me?” I repeat, still shocked. He swallows and nods.

“I do,” he says. I smile at him and pull one hand away from him to raise it and touch his cheek.

“Mon doux petit poète (My sweet little poet), I wish you would’ve told me sooner. Je t’aime aussi,” I say, caressing his face with my thumb. He stares at me for a moment.

“You do?” he asks. I smile wider and nod.

“Have I ever lied to you, mon amour?” I ask. He grins at me.

“Probably, when we were children,” he says. I laugh and lean my forehead against his.

“I’ve missed you, ma douce (my sweet) Philip,” I say. He chuckles, putting a hand respectfully at my hip. I pull back slightly to look at him through my eyelashes.

“Pip?” I ask softly. He tilts his head to show he’s listening.

“How much French do you know?” He hums in thought for a moment, looking at me curiously.

“Only what you taught me,” he says. My stomach twists nervously. Damn this corset. I take a deep breath and lean toward him.

“Embrasse moi,” I whisper in his ear. He pauses as I pull back. He swallows and licks his lips.

“That...Kiss you?” he asks. I look away shyly and nod. He smiles bashfully, before gently taking my face and turning it toward him. His eyes sparkle with adoration as they look at me, before they drop to my lips. His eyes close as he leans toward me, and mine do too. His kiss is soft and sweet, warm like the morning sunlight, and a bliss unheard of. I smile against his lips and I feel him do that same. It lasts for only a few seconds, before we pull away from one another. Blushes spread across our cheeks, and smiles curve our lips.

“Wow,” he breathes. I giggle and throw my arms around him.

“Je t'aime,” I say, holding tightly to him. He laughs, kissing behind my ear.

“I love you too, ma beauté française (My French beauty),” he says. I giggle, and then shriek as he lifts me up. He’s spinning with me, and I hold on tighter. When he finally puts me down, I step back and sway.

“You’ve made me dizzy!” I giggle, grinning at him. He laughs at me, and I hug him tightly. Someone clears their throat, and we jump, moving away from each other. Laurens smiles at us.

“I take it your feelings were mutual?” he asks. Philip blushes and nods.

“U-um, how are my parents?” he asks, changing the subject. Laurens’ face drops.

“They’re...Grieving. Not just you, but Lilith. And they’re still searching for Evangeline,” he says. For a moment, my heart breaks. The Hamilton’s are grieving for me as well? I’m not even their daughter, I’m not of their blood at all, but they still grieve for me? Then my attention is drawn away from the fact. I look at Philip and raise an eyebrow.

“Who’s Evangeline?” I ask. He looks at me for a moment, silent.

“You are,” he says. I crinkle my eyebrows in confusion, tilting my head.

“What?” Laurens and I ask in unison, each with differing ratios of shock and confusion. Philip takes my hand, seemingly planning out his response.

“My mind was so blurred after I got shot. I was looking at the sky and still didn’t know which way was up. When I saw you, I couldn’t see your face. Not in the literal sense, but it didn’t click. In my mind you were a pretty stranger with pretty words, and I couldn’t see you as Lilith. Maybe it was my own mind’s way of trying to be merciful, because knowing that it was you I was dying on would’ve been many times worse than believing I was dying in the arms of a stranger. I tried to describe you to my mom, I wanted to have you speak at my funeral,” he looks up at Laurens to address him instead. “We couldn’t just call her ‘the girl in the purple dress,’ so my mom decided to call her Evangeline. It’s supposed to mean bringer of good news, which she associated with Lilith comforting me.” The way he’d described it all had been so poetic and sad. And he’d wanted me to speak at his funeral? What...What have I done? I turn to Philip.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, feeling overridden with guilt. He puts his other hand over mine.

“Lilith, it’s perfectly fine-“

“But it’s not. I caused your family so much pain and uncertainty. They may never know that it was me who sat with you, and they’ll live the rest of their lives wondering who I was. Not to mention that I’ve caused them more grieving by taking my own life,” I exclaim, tears welling up in my eyes. The outburst is so unladylike, and nothing like how my mother taught me to act. Yes, speak to be heard, but stand strong. Women are already seen as weak, do not allow yourself to show weakness if you wish to be taken seriously. Show emotion with words, not with your tears. Philip wipes a stray tear from my cheek, kissing my forehead.

“Don’t cry, mon amour,” he mutters softly. I hiccup and nod, taking a deep breath to pull myself together. There’s a long silence.

“I want to show you kids something,” Laurens says, placing a hand on each of our shoulders. I grin slightly.

“You just aged yourself a lot, Mr. Laurens,” I giggle. He sighs and rolls his eyes fondly, shaking his head. He turns and waves for us to follow him. We do so, hand in hand. Eventually, he leads us to a cliff. The horizon is a painting of beautiful colors, which reflect serenely off the waves of the deep blue waters below the cliff.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, awestruck. Philip is at a complete loss for words beside me.

“As is everything in heaven,” Laurens says, eyes remaining glued to the horizon. I release Philip’s hand to climb a bit higher on the cliff, standing beside Laurens. He looks at me and I look back.

“As much as it saddens me that you’ve both come so early...Welcome to the afterlife,” he says. I smile slightly.

“Thank you, Mr. Laurens. I’m glad to have finally met you.”

~~~~~~

“My mother talked of you often, Mr. Laurens,” I say, staring across the sky. I pull at the petals of my flower crown absently. Laurens turns toward me.

“Did she?” I nod, smiling softly.

“She would tell my brothers and I stories of you, and read us your letters. And she told me once that when you saw me as an infant, you looked at me as if I were yours. You had the same love in your eyes as my father did, which is why they decided to make me your goddaughter,” I say. I try to imagine it. My infant self in his arms, a look in his eyes that can be described only as the all too pure pride of a loving father. I will never be able to feel that pride. I have robbed myself of it. Somehow, though, I do not worry. I am with Philip now, and John, and other family that has passed. I am content.

“Mon bien-aimé (My beloved) Anastasia,” he says, soft and fond. My smile is sad now, and I place the flower crown in my lap to prevent myself from crushing it.

“You loved her, didn’t you?” I ask. I miss my mother. My father. My blessed little brothers.

“Not in the way that I love my Alexander, or in the way she loves your father, but, yes. She and I loved each other deeply,” he says, smiling sadly. I nod.

“She told me that she saw you at that ball and could tell you were different. She approached you, and you looked at her with all the politeness of a man that thought he was going to have to fend her off like other women. But the first thing she did when she reached you was turn her gaze across the room to Alexander, and whisper in a tone only you would hear ‘you love him, don’t you?’” I say, remembering the story my mother told me when teaching me to accept others. We never owned slaves. We claimed to, but we paid them and treated them as humans. And we’d never harmed them. They had families, children I’d played with. I smile softly at him, and he returns it.

“She’s always been such a strong, intelligent, and accepting woman. I never felt as though she was disgusted by me, and I never felt unsafe in her presence. She and your father were more of a family to me than my own blood,” he says, pausing for a moment before reaching for my hand and adding, “and when you were born, you were as well.” I hold onto his hands and gaze at him softly.

“She’s always wished you could have loved him openly,” I say, unaware of the tear rolling down my cheek. He reaches up to wipe the tear away, and pulls me to him.

“Mon petit tout (My little everything),” he mutters. I can’t help but laugh.

“Mother told me you called me that,” I say, pressing my cheek against his coat. We sit silently for a moment, the both of us reminiscing on our individual memories of my mother - his Anastasia - and longing to be back with her. We move away from each other in unison, and he smiles at me with an adoring look I’ve only ever seen from my father. He lifts the flower crown from my lap and places it on my head, grinning at me.

“I didn’t know it was possible for people to accept this part of me until I met your mother. She looked at me with a teasing and playful twinkle in her eyes, and I could always talk to her without fear of judgement,” he says fondly. I touch the flowers in my hair, a fond smile on my own lips.

“She taught us that we do not choose how we are made, or how we are born. She said that we must treat everyone as we feel we should be treated. It is why we never owned slaves,” I say. John chuckles.

“Yes, your mother and I were adamant abolitionists. She had so much passion, especially when she was young and newly wedded. She went against the societal standards of women and we all admired her for it. Lafayette was quite taken with her,” he says. I gasp and put a hand over my mouth.

“Marquis de Lafayette and my mother?” I ask, mouth agape with a surprised grin. He laughs at my expression.

“Yes, but as far as I am aware, all that was shared was a few dances and some flirting in French. Your mother knew about his wife, however, and respected his love for her. Ever self sacrificing, your mother,” he says. I sigh and nod.

“That she is, ma chère mère (My dear mother),” I say. He pats my shoulder.

“She’s-“

“Mr. Laurens!” We both turn when we hear Philip. He looks panicked. Afraid. Laurens and I both rise.

“What is it, Philip?” he asks, voice steady. Ever the soldier. Philip swallows

“It’s my father. He’s about to duel with Aaron Burr.”

~~~~~

Laurens has descended to be with Alexander for the duel. I hold tightly to Philip’s hand as we watch from above. He flinches when his father is shot, but Alexander seems quite calm considering the situation. Typical Alexander. He’s taken to a doctor, and Laurens comes back to retrieve Philip.

“We should be with him,” he says. Philip nods, and his hand slips from mine.

“Time passes differently when you don’t watch. It will only be a few minutes for you. We’ll be back soon,” he says, looking briefly at me. I nod, and I watch them go. Then I’m alone. Is this what it was like for Laurens? Long and lonely silence? I wait, eventually sitting in the grass. Sounds of nature surround me, so it’s not a deafening quiet, but I miss the presence of another person. I find myself weaving more flower crowns, and singing a French lullaby my mother sang to me as a child. I’m about halfway through my third flower crown when a voice breaks through my song.

“My dear Laurens...And Philip?” I look up. It’s Alexander. He’s been reunited with his lover and his son. For a moment, I think to rise. I decide against it. Let him have his moment with the ones he loves first. I return to my flower crown, and continue to sing. I sound nothing like my mother, but it’s comforting nonetheless.

“Lilith?” My singing stops as I look up, and I smile. Dropping the half-made crown, I rise to my feet.

“Monsieur Hamilton,” I say with a curtsy. He breaks away from Laurens and Philip to come forth and embrace me.

“Do not be so formal with me, my dear. You are like a daughter to me,” he says, sounding...Heartbroken? I wrap my arms around him in an effort to comfort him.

“Darling, why did you do it? Why did you leave your poor mother in the manner of which you did? You have no idea how much heartbreak we felt in losing you. Lafayette returned for your funeral. Why, Lilith, why?” he asks desperately. I...I caused all that?

“Because she’s Evangeline.” Alexander pulls away from me to look at his son.

“She’s...What do you mean she’s Evangeline? You would’ve recognized her, and you didn’t know who the woman was. That’s why we’ve called her Evangeline,” he says. Philip shakes his head and moves to my side, taking my hand.

“My vision was blurred and my mind wasn’t working correctly. Think about it, Pops. Look at her. She’s exactly as I described Evangeline,” he says. Alexander looks from Philip to me and stares for a moment.

“I don’t understand why being Evangeline would cause her to-“

“I felt guilty. So guilty that it hurt. I couldn’t take it,” I say, fingers twitching in Philip’s grasp. Alexander stares at me, shocked. Then suddenly he has my face between his hands.

“You had nothing to feel guilty for. I should’ve stopped him,” he says. I blink back tears.

“I should’ve told him I loved him sooner. Perhaps the three of us would not be here in this moment,” I say. The hand against mine flexes.

“Do not think in what if’s. What if’s will only destroy us,” Philip says. Alexander releases my face to look at his son, and I look at him too.

“Mon doux petit poète,” I say with teary eyes, releasing his hand to touch his cheek. Alexander chuckles a little.

“We always hoped you’d fall in love,” he says. I grin a little bit.

“The plan always was to have us married anyway, wasn’t it? You wanted Derven-Hamilton grandchildren. That’s what mother said anyway,” I say. Alexander and Laurens both laugh, and Philip turns his head away to hide a blush rising to his cheeks.

“It has been a while since I’ve been to a Derven wedding,” Laurens says. Mother mentioned that the four had come to her wedding. Laurens had given a speech, and danced with her. She said that until the day I was born, the day she married my father was the best day of her life. Not just because of her marriage to my father, but because of her friends, whom she loved so dearly. I can see why.

~~~~~

As the years go by, more join us, and I meet many whom I never had the chance to meet. I’m reunited with others. My parents, my brothers, Eliza, all of Philip’s siblings. I’m properly introduced to people whom I haven’t met since I was born, or very young. I meet spouses and nieces and nephews. They all remain in their best form. Some being as they were when they died, and others appearing younger. Many reunions are tearful, joyous. When I first saw my mother, some ten years after my father passed away, I broke into sobs and collapsed in her arms. We all spent years in the blissful afterlife together, creating memories we never got. Philip and I get married in the presence of our families and friends. In the year 2016 on the regular Earth, I see a young woman portraying pieces of mine and my mother’s stories in a big theater in New York, in a show that is big on what is now known as Broadway. It is after I see this that the disappearances occur. The first to go is General Washington. Then my grandparents, and Philip’s. Years pass and Angelica is gone. A year later and Mr. Mulligan and Lafayette, then my father. The following year, Mr. Laurens, Alexander, my mother, and Eliza are gone. Two years and Aunt Peggy disappears. Very soon, it is Philip and I, and our siblings and their families. We await the certain fates of disappearance. And it is to my horror that Philip is gone first. Months later, I see a bright light. Each memory of my life flashes through my mind rapidly, and the light swallows me. The last thing I can see in my mind is Philip. Philip. Philip. Philip…

Yo. So that’s the prologue. It probably reads better on Wattpad or Ao3. It’s not updated as frequently on Ao3, but every time I finish a chapter, I update on Wattpad. I’m up to Chapter 14 there. So like.

Wattpad (Main platform): https://www.wattpad.com/story/238070007-second-chances

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28575150/chapters/70031022

#I write too much #Hamilton fic #Oc protagonist #Hamilton #Alexander Hamilton #John Laurens #Philip Hamilton #WEEEEEEEEEE

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alice-beaumont-ravenclaw · 4 years

Text

A Night to Remember (Part 2)

A/N #1: Here is part 2 of the Celestial Ball fic! This is where all the dance and the romance is! Aaaah, Charlie and Alice... Will they? Won’t they? If you want to know, you’ll need to read on! Also, if you want to see Alice’s full outfit, CLICK HERE. If you want to know which music to listen to during various moments of the fic, CLICK HERE. (Oh, and there is a certain reference to a pants problem I had when drawing the art below...) Other parts in the series: You’ve Got a Friend in Me | Distraction | Something There | One Step Closer | Fashion Emergency | Get Your Head in the Game | Der Walzer von Alice | Of Quidditch and Ballgowns | From Paris, with Love | A Night to Remember (Part 1)

Alice was looking down at her half-eaten sandwich, playing with some crumbs that had fallen to the plate’s side. She rolled them between her fingers, lost in her thoughts.

“Alice!” said Rowan, waving her hand in front of her friend’s face to get her attention.

“Huh? Oh! How long have you been here?” asked Alice, looking at her friend sitting next to her.

“I just arrived. You seem perturbed. What’s bothering you?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact I’ll be dancing in front of thousands of people in just a few hours.”

Alice’s tendency to exaggerate always made Rowan smile. “Well, actually, taking into account that there is a max amount of 5 people per dorm, ten people per house per year, meaning 40 people per year… This means 200 students, minus the prefects and head boy/head girl on the dance floor, meaning 174 but adding the professors, which means about 13, plus Filch, Hagrid, Madam Pomfrey and Madam Pince, that makes about 191. And you also have to think the other prefects might not necessarily go with a fellow prefect like you and Charlie. Not to mention students who are not coming… So you’ll be dancing in front of about 180 people, which represents 18% of a thousand.”

“That makes it so much better,” grumbled Alice, laying her head on the table.

“It’s not that much, Alice,” pointed out Rowan.

“Easy for you to say… If I recall, you told Bill you were willing to practice with him at the beginning, but you would not be his date because there is no way you will dance in front of a crowd…”

“I wouldn’t dance in front of a crowd of 10, to be honest, but that’s me. You are Alice Beaumont, Curse-Breaker extraordinaire. Nothing scares you!”

“Dancing is not like dealing with a Vault, Roro…”

“Roro?”

“Trying something new.”

“Don’t.”

“Ok,” replied Alice, a small smile spreading her lips.

“Ah! I see a smile!”

“Yeah, yeah, alright. I guess I’ll survive. At least I’m dancing with a friend, so no pressure on that side. And Tulip is there to deal with Merula, so that’s being taken care of as well. I guess all that’s left to do is hope for the best…” said Alice, slowly raising her head from the table. “Speaking of Tulip, do you know what happened to Filch?”

“I heard he’s in the infirmary with boils on his face… It also seems like he doesn’t know where the liquid that fell on him came from.”

“Lucky break…” whispered Alice.

“There you are!” said Andre, standing in front of her.

“What do you mean, ‘there you are?’ You’re the one who told me to go eat.”

“That was an hour ago! It’s time to get ready. Chop, chop!” he said, clapping his hands.

“The ball is still in a few hours…” started saying Alice as she got up from the bench.

“Exactly! We need to put you in your dress, do your hair and your makeup… We need to start now, or you’ll be late for the ball!” said Andre before walking away while looking at a pocket watch.

“At least he didn’t say that I was going to be late for a very important date…” mumbled Alice as she walked out the Great Hall.

Alice was back in Andre’s dorm, sitting on his bed as he had told her to wait for him there while he brought Charlie his suit. Talbott had gone to the common room, so Alice was all alone. She noticed that Quidditch magazines were mixed in with fashion publications on Andre’s nightstand, while some old books were on Talbott’s. While Talbott’s side of the dorm was barely decorated, Andre’s walls were covered in posters, and most were of the Pride of Portree. There was also a small picture with an autograph on it. The only thing she could read was “Westwood,” the woman’s surname, she assumed. Two very different personalities were sharing a dorm…

“Finally, I’m ready for your makeover,” said Andre as he entered the dorm.

“Took you long enough. Was there something wrong with Charlie’s outfit?”

“Hum… Let’s just say there was a situation with the pants. A slight sewing problem, really, but really needed to be fixed. Anyway, here, go put this on,” said Andre, handing Alice a garment bag.

Alice took the bag and headed towards the bathroom. “What was wrong with Charlie’s pants?” she asked after a few moments from inside the bathroom.

“Hum… Let’s just say that he looked very excited about the ball?”

Alice’s head appeared from a small gap in the door. “Huh? How could pants show excitement?”

“You know…” he replied, raising his eyebrows.

“Hum, no, I don’t. I’m not an expert like you in fashion,” she said, zipping up the side of her dress as she left the bathroom.

“You sweet, innocent child,” Andre said, pinching his friend’s cheek.

“Ow!” Alice rubbed her cheek, glaring at Andre.

“Sorry,” he said, taking a step back to look at Alice in his creation. “Merlin, I’m good.”

“Ok, great, the dress looks good, but do I look good in the dress?”

“You look great! But I’m still not done with you. By the time your entire look is completed, you will look like a vision. Now, sit,” he said, pulling out the chair in front of his desk. “First, the hair.”

Andre stretched his fingers and rolled his shoulders as if he was preparing for the most daunting task of his life. After stretching his neck, he promptly took a hairbrush and started brushing Alice’s hair after he had removed the headband she was wearing. He went through her hair with swift movements. Once her hair was brushed to his satisfaction, he took out a comb and started parting her hair. Taking the hairs framing her face, he started braiding them, adding strands of hair as he went further towards the back of her head. Little beads of sweat began to form on his forehead, but he hastily wiped them off. As the two braids joined each other, he used a flick of his wand to make them stay together. He then removed the silver threads from the tiara Alice’s grandmother had gifted her. He carefully placed the tiara right below the braid, and once again flicked his wand to make the tiara stay in place without the help of the threads.

After admiring his handiwork for a few seconds, he turned the chair around so Alice would face him. He took out the blush and mascara Penny had lent him. He also pulled out a blush brush from his desk. Alice didn’t bother asking him why he had such a brush in his possession. He dipped the brush lightly in the blush and started applying it to Alice’s cheeks delicately. He then got out the mascara and started applying it slowly to Alice’s eyelashes.

“This is going to take forever,” grumbled Alice as her eyes started to water while he did the lower lashline.

“You can’t rush art,” replied Andre.

After applying the mascara, he took out a lipstick, which was a very pale shade of pink, and started dabbing it on Alice’s lips using his finger. He took a step back and quickly grabbed a handkerchief to remove some of the mascara that had stained Alice’s lower eyelids. He then put her jewelry on, before standing away to take a good look at his fashion protégé.

“I feel like Professor Higgins…” said Andre, looking at Alice.

“I don’t know him… What subject does he teach?” asked Alice, looking up at Andre.

“Well... he’s a fictional character,” replied Andre. “Anyway, all you need now is to put on the shoes, and you’ll be ready.”

“I’ll put them on in the common room. There is no way I’m going down five flights of stairs in those, especially not in a narrow spiral staircase,” she said, leaving the dorm bare feet, holding her shoes in her hand.

“Don’t leave without me!” shouted Andre as the door was closing behind her.

Alice rapidly descended the narrow staircase until she finally arrived in the almost empty common room. Only Talbott was there, reading his book.

“Has everyone left already?” asked Alice.

“Yes, it was very noisy when everyone was getting ready to leave, and the first and second years were gawking at everyone,” said Talbott, looking up from his book. “Are bare feet the new trend in formalwear?”

“Haha, very funny. I told Andre I would put my shoes in here,” said Alice, showing the shoes she was holding as she sat down. “So even the younger students left?”

“Yeah, they all wanted to see everyone’s evening looks,” said Talbott as he took a closer look at Alice. “Hmm, Andre outdid himself.”

“Was I such an ugly duckling before?” asked Alice, glancing at him as she tightened the strap of her shoes around her ankles.

“That’s not what I meant…” started saying Talbott, flustered.

“I know. I’m messing with you, Winger,” replied Alice before sticking her tongue out.

“I’m ready,” said Andre as he entered the common room.

“Wow, you changed quickly,” said Alice as she got up.

“Well, when you look this good…” started saying Andre, tugging at his jacket’s lapel.

Alice lightly punched his shoulder. “Stop bragging, or we might be late to the ball.”

“Milady,” said Andre, extending his arm for her to take.

“Fine… But it’s only because I’m wearing heels,” said Alice as she took his arm.

They stepped out and saw the younger students gawking at what was going on downstairs from the gallery. As they started passing them, some turned to see, and many of the girls were impressed by Alice’s outfit.

“She looks like a princess,” Alice heard one girl whisper to her friend.

“Oh lord… Andre, maybe this is too much,” whispered Alice.

“Just enjoy it, Alice. Tonight, you shall be the belle of the ball,” said Andre, gently squeezing her hand.

As they started to descend the moving staircase, Alice could hear the chatter coming from downstairs. She and Andre were the only ones in the stairs as the ball was about to begin. She heard Tonks’s distinct laugh as they were one staircase away from joining their friends.

Andre quickly released her arm. “Stay here,” he said, before going down a few steps to stand at the top of the stairs that led to the entrance hall. He cleared his throat to get their friends’ attention.

“Andre! Took you long enough! The ball is about to start. Where is Alice?” asked Penny.

“She is right here,” said Andre, looking in Alice’s direction, giving her a small nod as her signal to come into view before quickly going down the stairs himself.

Alice took a deep breath and slowly started to go down the stairs leading to the top landing of the final staircase. She felt uneasy in high heels, and the last thing she wanted to do was to fall. She finally arrived at the top of the stairs and turned to see her friends.

“Oh! Alice!” exclaimed Penny while Tonks wolf-whistled.

Charlie was talking with Barnaby, his back to Alice. Barnaby, who had a little bowtruckle embroidered on his lapel, looked up and stopped paying attention to Charlie, staring at his friend who was slowly coming down the staircase. Charlie turned around, and his eyes widened when he saw Alice. His mouth remained slightly open as he looked at her every move as she carefully came down the stairs. As she stepped down the last stair, Andre lent her his arm once more and brought her to Charlie, who just kept staring in awe.

“Oh, Charlie! You look great in your suit!” said Alice as she looked at Charlie, who was wearing a dark navy Regency-style tailcoat with a high collar and two silver dragons adorning the front, paired with red pants, and black leather derby shoes.

“Huh? What?” said Charlie as if coming out of a trance. “Oh! Thanks! You look great too!”

“The ball is about to begin,” announced McGonagall, standing at the Great Hall’s entrance. “All the students should be inside, except for the Headboy and girl, the prefects, and the students accompanying them.”

“Good luck,” said their friends as they went inside the Great Hall, while Alice, Charlie, and Bill took their position in the line of students that were going to open the ball.

Bill took his position at the front with his date, while Alice and Charlie were at the back of the line as they were only 5th-year prefects. Charlie raised his hand, and Alice delicately placed hers on his. They glanced at each other before looking back in front of them, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm their nerves. They heard the music starting, and Bill immediately started to walk into the Great Hall, followed by the other students. Charlie and Alice looked at each other before taking their first steps into the Hall.

The Great Hall was full of students in formal attire who were all standing around the dancefloor, observing the prefects’ arrival. Alice noticed Merula staring at her and looking surprised, while Diego, who was standing next to her, gave the pair two thumbs up as a sign of encouragement. Alice and Charlie took their position on the dancefloor along with the others, Alice placing her hand on Charlie’s shoulder while he put his on her waist.

“Ready?” he whispered.

“No?”

“Me neither… Well, let’s hope for the best. At least we’re together,” whispered Charlie, to which Alice nodded.

There was a slight pause in the music before it started again, indicating to the dancer that it was time to waltz. The couples started to sway to the music before starting to move around the dancefloor. It looked like a scene straight out of a period movie to the Muggle-borns. For students less familiar with the Muggle world, it looked more like something straight out of the stories their grandparents used to tell. Then, as the music became louder, the leads lifted their partners while turning, allowing the audience to see the magnificent gowns the ladies were wearing. Alice and Charlie kept looking into each other’s eyes, trying to forget all the people who were looking at them. Looking into Charlie’s warm brown eyes made Alice feel better, while his reassuring smile made her heart beat faster.

As they were dancing, their friends were observing them.

“Oh, look! Alice is blushing!” whispered Penny to Andre as she nudged him with her elbow.

“Are you sure it’s not Andre who put too much blush on her cheeks,” whispered Tonks, smirking.

“Unlike you, I have some talent when it comes to applying makeup,” whispered back André.

“Touché,” said Tonks before laughing.

“Look! He just made her twirl in front of us, and they completely ignored us. It’s like they’re in their own world,” pointed out Tulip.

“Can’t believe Alice was worried about the dance all this time,” whispered Rowan. “They look so graceful together.”

“Isn’t it romantic,” whispered Badeea as she sketched on a small pad.

“Are you actually sketching during a ball?” asked Ben.

“Of course! How many other balls will I get to see in my lifetime?” replied Badeea as the ladies were lifted once more by their partners.

The music eventually slowed down a bit, allowing others to join. The first to enter the dancefloor were Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, who were soon joined by other students, including Merula and Diego, as well as Penny and Andre. Soon the dancefloor was filled with students, as well as some professors, waltzing. While Diego was supposed to be the lead, he felt like Merula was making him dance more quickly than the others. He soon realized she was trying to catch up to Beaumont and Weasley. Annoyed, he made a sharp turn so that they would dance further away from the couple. Andre and Penny kept looking over at their two friends, who were now both blushing, though neither seemed to be aware of it.

“One Galleons that he asks her out tonight,” said Penny to her partner.

“Two that they have their first kiss tonight,” replied Andre.

Most of their other friends had remained on the side, Rowan and Ben refusing to dance in front of so many people, while Badeea kept sketching. Tulip and Tonks danced together on the side, laughing as they tried to lift each other and failed. Rowan observed her best friend, smiling, as she swayed to the music. She was happy to see Alice thinking about something other than the vaults.

The leads spun their partners before catching them at the waist. All the skirts twirling on the dancefloor made for a dizzying spectacle as the couples whirled around the dancefloor, at varying speed, depending on the music. At last, the music became louder and slightly faster as it approached the end, making the couples dance a bit more quickly, making them all seem like a blur to the audience. As the music ended, the dancers curtsied to their partners.

Alice and Charlie looked at each other with a smile of relief. They held each other’s hands before hugging each other in a tight embrace.

“Well, you two were quite the pair,” said Andre as he made his way towards them with Penny.

“Is there a piece of gossip I should start spreading around?” added Penny grinning.

“What are you talking about?” asked Alice, looking at the blond Hufflepuff.

Charlie looked at his friends, annoyed. They were not even trying to be subtle anymore. “Just ignore them,” he said, placing an arm around her waist. “We should go to our table.”

Charlie guided Alice to one of the prefects’ tables, where Bill was also sitting with his date, under the watchful eyes of Penny and Andre.

“Hmmm, I’m afraid we might lose our wagers,” said Andre as they made their way to their table.

“Don’t be so sure, the night is still young,” said Penny, smirking.

After dinner, the Weird Sisters took their place on the stage and started playing their hit song (and the only song Alice had ever heard them play), “Do the Hippogriff.”

Many of the students went to the dance floor and started to dance to the rhythm of the music. Alice could see Penny, Andre, Tonks, and Tulip shaking their heads to the rhythm while jumping. Bill led his date to the dance floor, while Charlie and Alice remained seated, the Ravenclaw beating the tempo of the music with her fingers on the table.

From the corner of his eye, Charlie noticed Barnaby approaching their table. While Charlie didn’t like the idea of dancing again in front of everyone, he took Alice’s hand and led her to the dance floor. There was no way Barnaby Lee was going to cut in on his time with Alice. Especially not if it was to dance with her. As they joined the group of dancing students, he made her do an inside turn, before they started to shimmy to the beat, smiling at each other.

When the song ended, and they started to go back towards their table, Penny grabbed Alice’s arm and whispered something in her ear, while Andre and Charlie were having a conversation about Quidditch.

“Wait, how did you manage to…” started saying Alice as she heard the Weird Sister play the first notes of a song she knew all too well, along with nearly all Muggle-borns and many half-bloods.

“It took some convincing, but I managed to make them include some Muggle song in tonight’s repertoire, even if Myron didn’t find them dark enough to his taste,” replied Penny as she dragged her friend near the front of the stage.

“I really would love to know what you used to convince him to play Ghostbusters,” said Alice as they started to dance.

“Oh, that one was easy. I had to get creative for Footloose and Y.M.C.A.”

“Wait… THE Weird Sisters are going to play Y.M.C.A.?!”

“Yup! But Myron’s not going to sing that one. No amount of blackmail… uh, I mean, convincing, would make him sing a fun song.”

“Who will?”

“Who else?” said Penny, nodding in Diego’s direction, who seemed busy warming up his voice while Merula was giving him the cold shoulder and pouting.

“What’s up with Snyde?”

“Eh, ignore her. She’s just pissed because you were the center of attention.”

“I was not! Everyone is wearing such gorgeous outfits. I nearly asked Andre if he designed everyone’s outfit.”

“You are too precious. Honestly, though, you and Charlie probably have the best outfits. Barnaby was so jealous of the two silver dragons on his chest. And I heard a lot of murmurs about a certain sparkling blue dress, not to mention your tiara. You two looked like a couple straight out of a fairytale or a period drama.”

Alice shrugged at that last comment as she kept dancing to Ghostbusters. Andre had also hinted at the whole fairytale scenario. She didn’t know what her friends were on about with the whole fairytale thing. Charlie wasn’t a prince, and she was no princess either, at least not literally. Maybe it was the tiara? Perhaps it was her tendency to read fairytales? But it wasn’t because she read fairy tales that she necessarily believed in the unrealistic love stories found in them. Anyway, no one said anything about love, right?

With these thoughts in mind, she glanced towards Charlie, who was sitting at a table, deep in conversation with Andre and Barnaby. As if on cue, he looked in her direction at that moment, and their eyes met. He smiled at her; she smiled back. As she did so, she felt her heart thumping faster and a warm sensation enveloping her body. She started to feel as if there were too many people around her as they all did the Y.M.C.A moves. Her chest was tightening, making it hard to breathe. She quickly made her way out of the crowd, Penny trying to catch up to her, to no avail.

Alice opened the door leading to the Entrance Hall, and quickly closed it behind her. She leaned against it, holding her hand over her chest as she tried to catch her breath. She didn’t understand what had happened. Maybe she was getting sick? She placed a hand on her forehead. No, her temperature seemed normal. Maybe there were just too many people…

She made her way toward the courtyard, hugging herself to keep warm in the Scottish winter. She stood at the edge of the courtyard, looking up at the starry night sky.

“Nothing beats the real thing, huh?” said someone behind her as a jacket was placed on her shoulders.

She turned her head and saw Charlie standing beside her.

“I wanted to make sure you were alright. You ran out of there looking frantic,” he said, looking at her worriedly.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to worry you. I just felt like… Like I was suffocating? I don’t know… I just kept hearing my own heartbeat and feeling hot. My head was just telling me to get out,” tried to explain Alice.

“Well, as long as you are ok now,” said Charlie, glancing in her direction as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Mmm, I am, thanks… You can go back to the ball. Wouldn’t want you to miss all the fun on my account.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Diego commandeered a guitar and started singing in Spanish… Something about a bamboleo? Or is it a bambolea? Either way, many girls are swooning over him. Anyway, I’d much rather spend time with you,” he said with a shy smile, a blush appearing on his cheeks.

“Oh! Hum… Thanks,” replied Alice, looking back at the star as she felt her heartbeat quicken again, and her face, unbeknownst to her, had become redder.

Charlie stared at her. Was Alice Beaumont blushing? Could she possibly have feelings for him? “I liked dancing with you this evening,” said Charlie, trying to break the silence.

“Me too,” replied Alice, still looking up at the sky.

“I’m happy I got to dance with you…”

“Me too.”

“Too bad we’ll probably never do it again…”

“What do you mean?” asked Alice, suddenly looking at him.

“Well, I don’t think we’ll ever attend a ball again,” pointed out Charlie.

“Oh, right,” replied Alice, looking down.

“Well, we could have one last dance…”

“Not sure I want to go back in there,” said Alice, nodding in the Great Hall’s direction.

“Who said anything about going back in there? We have the courtyard all to ourselves; the night sky matches the theme way better than all the decorations in the Hall…”

“Hey! We put a lot of effort into those decorations!”

“I meant that they couldn’t beat the real thing.”

“True… But there is one problem: no music.”

“So? We practiced plenty of time without music,” said Charlie, extending his hand to her.

Alice looked at his hand, then into his eyes. She smiled as she shook her head, taking his hand. “Fine. Just let me put on your jacket properly, unless…”

“Nah, I’m fine. A turtleneck plus the gloves should keep me warm enough,” he said, taking her hand and leading her outside after she had put on his jacket.

Alice placed her hand on his shoulder, while he gently placed his free hand on her waist as they had done earlier, but this time, there was no pressure. They were just together. They started to sway together in the courtyard, slowly going around the fountain. The only sound they could hear was the wind and a little bit of the music coming from the Great Hall. The only witnesses to their dance were the stars twinkling in the sky. Charlie made Alice turn, making her skirt twirl, and the sparkles on it looked as if they were trying to compete with the stars as they glittered. He then caught her and lifted her, turning around as he did so, her hands resting on his shoulders as she looked down at him, smiling. Gently putting her back on the ground, they went on waltzing around the courtyard, a shy smile on their faces as they kept looking into each other’s eyes. They were in their own world, the heavens watching over them with benevolence. Charlie was lost in her green eyes, remembering the first time he had noticed her in this very courtyard when she had duelled Merula by stuffing her wand up the Slytherin’s nose. Alice looked at his smile and thought of the time he had caught her in his arms in Hogsmeade. She recalled being a bit mad when he had made fun of her book, but who could stay angry at someone with such an endearing smile. Not to mention he had helped her so many times since that day. Writing essays on creatures, finding the forest vault… He was always by her side…

They slowly stopped dancing, staring into each other’s eyes. Charlie leaned in closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, their faces nearing each other. As she looked at his lips coming closer, she started to close her eyes when…

“Alice!” shouted Rowan from the doorway.

Charlie and Alice stepped away from each other as if suddenly remembering where they were.

“Alice! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! We still have some packing to do for tomorrow!” shouted Rowan as she hugged herself to keep herself warm. “What are you doing out in the cold? You could catch a cold!”

“I’m coming,” said Alice as she started to walk towards her friend, before turning towards Charlie. “Oh, your jacket…”

“Keep it,” said Charlie, looking at her with tenderness in his eyes.

She looked at him for a moment. “Thanks,” she said with a small smile before walking back inside with Rowan.

A/N #2: Well, looks like Charlie didn’t kiss the girl this time around, but maybe Alice is realizing something... Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to leave a comment, and know that I am always open to constructive criticism. I’m not sure yet what my next fic will be. Maybe a musical sequel to this (mostly because I know a song that would fit so well after the events of this fic). Oh, and if you are wondering why Ghostbusters seems like a special song for Alice and Penny, read this fic. For the fic where Alice stuffs her wand up Merula’s nose, CLICK HERE. For the fic where Charlie catches Alice in his arms, CLICK HERE.

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nostalgic-pancakes · 3 years

Text

Watching the starlings as autumn draws in

Summary: Tommy and his friends try on some skirts, and he reflects a bit on how they all got here. (It's a happy story) Title from September by Sparky Deathcap

Pairings: None! Platonic everyone (esp in irl fics_)

Read on AO3 (preferred place to read)

Word count: 2570

Warnings: None, except for surface-level references to the exile/prison arcs, but not much.

Other notes: I wrote this in a fit of madness last night in like three hours at 2 am, so i’ll probably edit it honestly but for now, enjoy! (If the CC’s ever display discomfort with this type of fic I will take it down)

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"WELCOME BACK TO THE STREAM, BOYS!" Tommy exclaims, rubbing his hands together as he starts rapid-fire answering questions about the stream, and the stream title from chat. It's funny, how over time, Tommy's come to see Chat as this one entity- an old friend. The nervousness of answering questions as a fifteen year old with nothing but a big personality, a twitch account and a copy of Minecraft is all but gone now, nineteen years old and happier than he's ever been.

Dreadfulzombie19: what are u doin this stream

"THANK YOU FOR ASKING, Dreadfulzombie19, today is gonna be a bit different, innit Tubbo?" Tommy raises his voice a bit at the end of his sentence, just loud enough for one of his flatmates to hear him. When Tubbo yells back an affirmative, Tommy turns back to his setup. Chat's gone a bit wild again, even though he, Tubbo and Ranboo have been living together for over a year now.

"Okay, okay, calm down chat- so recently I was at university, as usual right? And I had an eight AM class again, and… yeah I can see you all can relate."

"BUT! BUT! On my way back to the flat, I saw something really cool." Tommy hesitates in his speech to take a sip of coke again- his blood pressure's been acting up lately and watches Chat to wild again, asking him what he saw.

"Okay, so there was a shop- new place, which doesn't happen often this is fucking Brighton- and they sold skirts and dresses and stuff with adjustments for AMAB sizes!" Chat goes a bit bonkers, but Tommy's mod team- a little smaller than it used to be, now that he isn't the centre of YouTube or Twitch attention anymore, none of them are- are handling it, and pretty well.

"So I had to go, right? As many of you probably know, last year, I made the astounding discovery that gender-based stereotypes and expectations are, in fact, fake and I should not give a SHIT. And so I go in and look through the stuff- it's a really poggers shop by the way, and I find the perfect thing- it was the most poggers skirts and shit, okay? So, today's stream is going to have me wearing this pogchamp shit and wearing it right, with the help of…" Tommy ends his monologue by picking up the joke shaker-things that Phil had gotten him as a housewarming gift last year and indicates for his first two helpers to enter the office.

In walks his mother, face obscured from view as always, waving to the camera, and Wilbur, also wearing one of his only skirts for this occasion. Eret had taught him, on a phonecall in the skirt shop that week about the different types of skirts with a handy diagram. Wilbur's was a pleated circle skirt, brown to offset the bright yellow of his sweater and beanie, the same colour as his hair. It's very swoosh-y, so he's wearing black leggings with his regular shoes too. Motherinnit's also wearing her favourite skirt, a baby blue prairie skirt, Tommy thinks, and it's one he's seen fairly often.

Wilbur ducks down in order to show his face to Chat, and ruffles Tommy's hair while he's at it. Tommy's taller, but not by much, so Wilbur still fucking makes short jokes, That fucker.

Chat is now going so fast that he simply cannot read anything but some of the all caps messages and can barely make out some of the emotes.

"Okay, OKAY, CALM DOWN CHAT! WE HAVE TO GET TO FUCKING BUSINESS!" Tommy yells into the mix, like he did when he was sixteen and used the 'many people find me annoying at first' intro. Nowadays he just lets the content speak for itself. Anyone who wants to be here already is, by now.

Wilbur laughs a bit, and that hasn't changed at all. "Tommy, how is chat supposed to calm down if you're not calm?"

"I am their god!! They will obey via sheer digital willpower!" Tommy replies back, pretty zealously (What? An English Literature class is mandatory for his film degree, and The Great Gatsby by Zelda Fitzgerald is a good book, as are most of the other assigned ones. He's had entire conversations with Techno with just lit quotes and it drives everyone insane. Tommy loves it.) Chat seemingly has listened to his godlike abilities, with a few OG's spotting his half-quotation of one of Dream's last lines in the Dream SMP. The rest are spamming 'MOTHERINNIT'.

"If having a shitty magic trick book from a washed-up politician makes you a god, then what does that make me?" Wilbur replies, with one of Foolish's lines and swatting his hand at Tommy. Tommy swats back.

"Bitch" "Arsehole" "Shithead" "Fuckface" Wilbur finishes cheerily, as if this happens all the time. It does. Chat's used their antics now, four years of consistently making content together will do that for you.

Eventually Motherinnit reminds them both to get back on Topic, and Tommy goes back to facing the camera, addressing Chat directly.

"Today, my beloved mother, and my idiot brother-" "hey!" "And maybe my flatmates will be joining me to show off some cool as SHIT skirts! And a dress or two. We all have our selections, right?" Everyone nods in affirmative, even Tubbo and Ranboo. Though the camera can't see them. Ranboo's just come home from his final class, then. He should probably take the first hour back off, and judging by how Tubbo is forcefully judging Ranboo to the shower, he probably gets it. Tommy signs an affirmative to both of them, and gets back to the camera, where Wilbur's showing off all of his (very poggers) very stupid brown or yellow skirts. Tommy's are in cool colours, for fuck's sake.

"Oh yeah, Puffy just confirmed she'll be on stream! She'll be here in about twenty minutes, accounting for fucking traffic, and Niki' going to get onto VC after her own stream, what game is it this time?"

"GRIS." Wilbur answers.

"Poggers- she is the SHIT and will join us soon! So expect some QUALITY QUALITY content this stream!! Remember to not spam her chat to finish faster." Exclaims Tommy, even if it ends up as a light warning, as he picks up his own very poggers skirts from the extra armchair in his office to show the camera.

One is the classic red and white, mostly white but with bright red on the waist (elastic) and the bottom, and it reached to about Tommy's knee, if worn at the hip. It had no pleats, but the red bits were a very nice velvet texture, and while the skirt was heavy, it still had very much swoosh value, and pockets!! Big ones!! He slips the skirt on top of his jeans before entering camera view, the skirt visible in all its classic Tommyinnit glory, as he takes his place right next to Wilbur, who just took. a quick spin at the behest of several dono's., Skirt spying out from his lower shins all the way to his knee, making visible one of his (many) petticoats. ("What? It's cold all the fucking time here, Toms.") Tommy also makes a quick little spin, skirt flying outward, not upward, so it looks like he's hula hooping for a moment there. Lastly, Motherinnit spins around too, and while her skirts do not swoosh, she looks opulent, like she was about to go to waltz with the enemy, for whom she has a dagger in the back of her dress for. (He finished Anna Karenina and the Six of Crows duology within the same week and has not yet recovered. Jack Edwards is laughing at him as he thinks in his English Lit Graduate glory.)

It's fun, trying on different skirts- he and Wilbur accidentally bought the same dress at one point, which they paired up to wear, darting off into their respective changing rooms while giggling like idiots with their checkered blouses and the grindl skirts that Niki had sent over when she heard of this stream idea, laughing the whole time. Tubbo enters as dramatically as possible with Puffy, and while Tubbo looks really fucking good in his handkerchief skirt with embroidered bees and plain white shirt, it's Puffy who steals the show with an exact, real life version of her red banquet dress.

Fans from way back in the SMP, before Tommy had started branching out start going insane and are bringing back emotes Tommy wasn't sure were still available, but she is fucking stunning- deep shades of red and crimson, with slits on either side of her waist and all the detailing. She'd gotten the contact for her dressmaker through Bernadette Banner, Tommy recalls- she was so fucking cool when she streamed with him once, and gotten him to swear less and supplant those world's with bigger ones to intimidate instead. While he still curses like a sailor as part of his persona, it's less so and he does way less in real life these days, unless the situation calls for it. It's also just rude, especially in uni libraries, where he spends too much time these days wondering why he didn't read more as a kid.

Puffy's stolen his audience for a WHILE, and Niki coming on hasn't helped any, so Tommy exits camera view for a while to hug Ranboo really quickly- he's had midterms and has basically been dying all month.

Everyone on this stream- Tommy, Wilbur, Motherinnit, Tubbo, Puffy, Niki and Ranboo enter the camera frame after entering their dressing rooms for the last time on this particular stream, Puffy with full in-character wigs and makeup, Tommy in an Edwardian-Gothic reminiscent black and red dress, Ranboo in something he bought when he gap-yeared in Japan, punk lolita or something, Niki flaunting her pink in a Marie Antoinette style show of finery, Tubbo dressing in all green this time, something like a very deranged biology teacher who hasn't slept in days (Tubbo hasn't-Tommy has to get into that), Wilbur like a forest-nymph, all earthy tones and swishy fabrics and nature highlights, and finally Motherinnit, who hasn't changed but is here to take pictures as they all lean in together to fit into frame, as drastic as their height difference is. Niki is going to be edited in later, and everyone on the 'Dream SMP but nobody does Dream SMP and we're all fucking nerds' discord server is going to get a copy.

The stream wraps up there, after about two hours, and it's only about six in the evening- a far cry from the late nights and long hours from the beginning of Tommy's career, so everyone runs to their changing areas for the last time, into pajamas now, and packs away all of the clothes they wore, properly, as to not incense Karolina Zebrowska, and Jemma, Dan's wife, who would look at them disappointedly and nobody wants a sad Jemma because that means no cooing at their son. Also it just feels shitty.

Everyone huddles in Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo's living room, and they out on UP for like, the millionth fucking time (they still cry when Ellie dies), and Tommy is leaning into Wilbur's side and feeling his mum play with the hair in his very small, stubby ponytail he's developed by being in Uni as he and Tubbo intertwine their legs together and Ranboo rests his head in the tangle of limbs, playing with his fidget cube. Puffy stays on Wilbur's side, intently texting someone and smiling the whole while, and Tommy takes a moment to reflect (something he's been getting better at doing) on how the actual hell they all got here.

The Dream SMP was always going to end- everyone knew it, if course, they were the fucking writers. But by the time they did, not only were their respective brands too closely intertwined to just… sever that quickly, but they'd become too close to even want to. So the SMP discord never shut, even though Dream and George had planned it months ago, and they continued supporting each other with their interests. Wilbur made a lot more music solo, with his band and even just random ass streams where he practiced guitar for an hour. He kept playing Minecraft, but it wasn't his main focus. A bunch of people left. More stayed. YouTube left him alone.

Dream, George and Sapnap are still Minecraft streamers, but their YouTube channels are mostly blogs of them being poor excuses of adults with other former SMP members joining in sometimes. Tommy and the Dream Team were closer than ever, even though the seeds of their friendship had been sowed when they used to linger after heavy streams together, reassuring each other that none of that was true and that nothing like… that would happen in real life, because Dream had used real abuse tactics, and those still hurt unless immediately taken care of. So they were. It was a running joke that Dream was stuck at 99 million subscribers since nobody really wanted the face reveal anymore. The other Dream team members were doing peachy.

Phil and Techno were also still primarily Minecraft streamers, but they also released things like advice videos and mental health stuff, especially for relationships. They had a new scripted series where Tommy was a minor character. The dadza jokes were still as real, and yes, outside of streaming, both of them were lovely people and responsible adults (mostly). They collaborated with DanTDM and co a lot more now.

Puffy and Niki kept doing games, but did lots of different ones, testing point and clickers to triple A titles, and making it all fucking hilarious while they were at it.

So where had that left Tommy?

After the Dream SMP, he'd kind of had no idea what to do, and he was going to University for the first time, so he just… did whatever he thought would be fun. He learned about vintage fashion from the queens themselves- Mina Le, Bernadette Banner and Karolina Zebrowska and had fun learning how to sew for the first time, fixing and making his own clothes for the first time, clunky as they were, Wilbur had cried, genuinely, when he saw the Lovejoy shirts that Tommy had made for the band. He'd found a genuine love for literature in university, so Tommy started talking to booktubers and studytubers like Jack Edwards and Noelle Stevenson. Tubbo and Ranboo had joined him, fucking around in any YouTube niche they found even remotely interesting. Eventually, they all found a happy medium- a bit of everything.

Some people obviously weren't happy with that but Tommy was happy as he was, making what he liked with his best friend's, living together close enough to most of their friends (family) to have fun and drop in on one another at ass-o-clock in the morning to comfort, to laugh. His sub count hasn't gone up in a while- most of his audience is static, with about 80-90k online on a stream at any time.p

It was a nice feeling, to have carved out a space for himself and the people he loves, and be is so, so glad that he got this chance.

Looking at his mostly asleep family, Tommy thinks 'yeah. Life is good.' as the last thought before he sleeps.

#dream smp #mcyt #irl fic #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #tubbo #nihachu #ranboo #vee's writing #2021

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