#i am always in need of new lamps and coloured lights

[lordacne]

playing with my new light

[givemea-dam-break]

okay so, consider this: jealous George

hasn't been done much, and jealousy is one of my favourite tropes. I'm thinking friends to lovers (obv) and you're free to make it as angsty as possible, as long as we get a happy ending :))) and you know what would probably hurt him most? When he's jealous of Lockwood bc he gets along so well with reader, maybe they just have a borderline-flirty dynamic (all platonic ofc) and George just has to watch and know he's never gonna be able to be like this (angst angst angst)

AND to make it MORE angsty maybe reader is really reserved around george but only bc she is so nervous (he doesn't know that ofc!!)

AND how about George confides in Lucy at some point that he thinks lockwood and reader might be into each other and she's like "uh yeah no, lockwood and I are dating"

Just throw in whatever cliché trope you can think of in there, i love them all

a/n: I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS IDEA OMFG YES THANK YOU!!!!!! jealousy is also one of my favourite tropes it’s great but i haven't actually written it all that much so i hope you enjoy! this isn't very angsty because i actually struggled with the plot for this, but hopefully you still like it lol

warnings: mild language words: 3.9K female reader taglist: @flashbackwhenyoumetme @irisesforyoureyes @aayeroace @waitingforthesunrise @ettadear @mirrorballdickinson @ella23116 (let me know if you want added to my taglist!)

Touch - George Karim

George had a habit of staying up late on nights where it was unnecessary.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t sleep, but rather the fact that he didn’t want to until he was sure that everything was all right. When the agents of Lockwood and Co. returned to 35 Portland Row, safe and – mostly – unharmed, he could relax.

Well, he frankly could care less what ego-fulfilling stories Lockwood had to tell upon his returns or the colourful and new swear words Lucy had learned from Skull. It was (name) he waited up for.

Out of the three of his friends, (name) was the one who understood him most. She never pushed for him to speak when he didn’t feel comfortable. She always listened to him ramble on, whether it be for a case or purely out of interest in something, with her full attention, letting him speak for as long as he wanted, smiling and nodding as he did so. He felt most like himself with her around.

So, there he sat in the living room, glancing between the book in his lap and the front door, waiting for the familiar rattle of the doorhandle. It was cast in shadow, with only a thin streak of light cutting across it from the flickering crystal skull lamp in the hallway. Lockwood really needed to swap out the bulb.

When the tell-tale jingle of keys and the quiet clatter of the handle sounded, he sat up slightly and watched as she crept in as silently as she could. That was another thing George liked and appreciated about (name) – the fact that she was considerate for the other people in the house late at night. After a case, Lockwood would come in noisily, shutting the door behind him a little too loudly, and Lucy would be stomping around on too-creaky floorboards in her clunky boots. But (name) was always quiet.

It felt like George’s heart skipped a beat when she flashed him one of her enchanting smiles, paired with a little wave. Although the smiles were always reserved, edging on shy and nothing more than a curve of the lips and a sparkle in her eyes, it made his insides feel all warm and fluttery. The sensation had been new to him in the beginning, those first few times she’d smiled at him after she had been hired, but now it was something he yearned for. His days didn’t feel complete without it.

He opened his mouth to speak, but footsteps shook the stairs and, all of a sudden, Lockwood was there, arm draped over (name)’s shoulders.

“How was the case?” he asked, grinning.

(name) leaned against him as she tugged off her ectoplasm-spotted boots. “Couldn’t even call it that. Mrs Tilden, as sweet as she is, forgets that she can’t actually hear ghosts, and that the neighbour’s cat yowls whenever it gets too cold. I would’ve been back sooner, but all the night cabs were taken, and I didn’t feel like riding back with Kipps and his lot.”

“Well, you’re here now. Fancy some tea? Boiled the kettle not long ago.”

“That’d be great,” she said. When her eyes, sparkling in the dim light, turned on George, he found himself stuck to the spot. “Do you want some, George? I got some of that tea you really like this morning.”

And, as much as George wanted to agree, he couldn’t help but look at Lockwood and the way he so easily stood with her, holding her close and grinning. It should be George there. It should be him she leaned on after a case, him that made her tea and asked her how it went.

No, no. His feelings didn’t entitle him to her or her time. Besides, she and Lockwood had been friends since childhood, separated for a few years for educational reasons, so it was a given that they’d be close. He just wished it didn’t make his throat ache every time he saw them like they were now, standing close and laughing. Something he so longed to do, but didn’t know if he could.

So, he simply said, “No, thanks, I’m about to head up to bed.”

She smiled at him once more, the shadow of a grin hiding in the corners, and nodded before following Lockwood down to the kitchen, joking about the infamous Cat of Mead Place. Her voice seemed to reverberate through the walls and into George’s very being as he stared down at the book in his lap, the page long since lost in his distraction.

Heaving a sigh, he gently closed it and set it upon the coffee table, then trudged up the stairs to his room.

--

“So, you think that our ghost is the killer? That’s interesting. From the description, I would’ve figured it’d be the victim. Makes sense, though.”

George nodded, trying not to focus on the soft scent of lavender and something flowery as (name) leaned closer to him, studying his notes and findings. He really hoped she couldn’t hear the furious pounding of his heart.

“Well, it was the murderer’s house,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose a little. “It’s very likely that, even if it’s the old remains of the victim, it’s the killer’s source. Remember that bit in Hackney? Old teeth in a jar, but it was the source for that murderer.”

(name) shivered. “Don’t remind me. Still have nightmares about that guy.” She shuffled her chair slightly closer, casting George a short glance, before pulling one of the newspaper copies over. “Natalie Greymouth tried and imprisoned for the murder of her six children, later to – Wait, six children? So, in between all these other murders she committed, she was also popping out babies and killing them?”

Huffing a laugh, George said, “Suppose the kids distracted people from the fact that she was a cold-blooded killer.”

At that, (name) snickered, and a spark travelled down George’s spine as he watched her. The way she grinned as she covered her mouth with the back of her hand, how her cheeks flushed for only a moment. It wasn’t until she turned her head to look at him, much closer than she had been before, that George felt stuck for breath.

Her smile slowly softened into something shyer, more private, as she became aware of the small space between them, but as quick as thought she turned away again, focusing back on the documents in front of them.

Hope had begun to form in that short moment, and it had tasted sweet, but it became bitter as Lockwood and Lucy burst through the kitchen door with bags of goods from Satchell’s. Lucy slid behind George’s seat, dumping an additional shopping bag filled with food on the kitchen counter.

“Hard at work I see,” Lockwood said with a grin. He leaned down over (name)’s shoulder, scanning the notes sprawled everywhere. “Makes no sense to me. I trust you guys have a lead on what we’re walking into later?”

George could feel his throat burn at the sight of them, but he swallowed the feeling down and looked away. “Yeah. We’ll give you the run down on the way.”

He tried his best not to look when Lockwood squeezed (name)’s arm. He tried even harder to ignore the grin she sent his way, so unlike anything she’d ever shown George, but it was impossible. It felt like trying to pretend that Skull wasn’t on the countertop making the most horrid faces ever. The action only ever drew his eye.

Her smile lit up any room she was in, and he hated that it wasn’t directed at him but instead Lockwood. Lockwood, who everyone attached themselves to – (name), Lucy, Flo Bones, the public. Everyone. Well, except for Quill Kipps and his Fittes lot, but George didn’t want them. He only wanted her.

--

“We’re splitting up.”

“Worst idea ever. I don’t like the look of this place.”

Lockwood snorted. “You never like the look of any of the places we’re hired out to.”

“Lie,” (name) said. She looked up at the towering house before them. “There was that one bit in Camden, remember? With the really nice, frosted glass windows in the door.”

“Before Lucy crashed into it and smashed the glass.”

Lucy went bright pink. “I don’t think that’s our focus for today.”

George watched as Lockwood nudged (name) with his elbow, eliciting a laugh from her, and tightly said, “Lucy’s right. We need to get this case over with. And pairs sound good – too much room to cover as one group. (name), I’ll go with you.”

For a moment, the rush of blood in his ears was all he could hear. What if she said no; that she wanted to pair up with Lockwood instead? George didn’t have anything against Lucy, but it got  unnerving hearing her one-sided conversations with Skull. He was never sure if she was insulting him or the glowing ghost in the jar. And they’d probably end up bickering as they often did which wouldn’t help this case run smoothly at all.

But (name) nodded and offered him that delicate smile. “Sounds good. Think I’ve got some ideas of where we might find our source.”

“Care to share?” Lockwood asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“No.”

“I’m your boss. You’ve got to tell me.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Yes, you –“

“Let’s go,” George interrupted. His fingers were beginning to twitch. “Before it gets dark.”

And so, they did. While Lucy and Lockwood trudged inside and up the looming staircase in the centre of the house, George and (name) crept through the ground floor, taking temperatures and using their Talents. He did try, really he did, to not linger on thoughts of her and Lockwood, of their lingering laughs and smiles, but it became increasingly harder the quieter they stayed.

“So, what are your ideas for finding the source?” he asked, trying to break the silence that had grown between them.

Usually, George would’ve preferred the quiet, but this was choking. Every moment his mind strayed from the task at hand, it drifted over to the horrible ache in his chest and the twitching of his fingers caused by what could only be described as jealousy. Jealousy! God, even thinking it made him mad.

Why was he jealous? Because someone he had never explicitly admitted to liking was showing an interest in someone else? Because someone else would squeeze her arm or nudge her, when even tapping her shoulder to get her attention felt like it would make George implode?

(name)’s fingers brushed over an old vase, and she lifted it up, turning it in her hands. “Going to use my Touch on very specific things. This lady died, what, five years ago? And her nephew took this house, so he likely would’ve thrown out most, if not all, of the things belonging to her. So, we need to find the obscure things.”

“Like that restaurant with the porcelain egg cup as a source?”

“Exactly like that. The stuff no one would expect a ghost to connect to.” Her grin then was unlike the ones she shared with Lockwood, and though it was rather self-approving, George found himself drawn to it. It was something he experienced that Lockwood might not have. “Georgie, you’re going to find the strangest things in this room, and I’ll have a feel. This was one of our theories for the primary haunting, right?”

The words clogged in his throat. Georgie. It repeated over and over and over in his head as he swallowed the feelings that were building up. “Yeah.”

He glanced around the office they had ended up in and took the temperature, finding it as the lowest on the ground floor. It was a moderately sized room with a massive desk cutting through the centre with chairs either side. The desk itself was neatly organised with folders and pens all gathered in holders. An expensive-looking computer had gathered dust since the owner’s rushed departure a few days ago. Rather unassuming, on the whole, but that was exactly what she wanted.

“We’ve got an hour until sundown,” he said, peeking out of the large window. “I’ll watch your back.”

Together, they picked out a selection of seemingly strange things from around the office. An envelope rack; a rather rusty metal pen; a little glass horse ornament plucked from a display case, among many other things. But (name)’s hands lingered over a photo frame. It was a simple thing made from light-coloured wood, and the picture inside showed the owner of the house and his partner, so it was the last thing George would’ve suspected. This was what she was for, though, he remembered. Her gut instinct was much better than the rest of Lockwood and Co.’s.

“Be careful,” George murmured. “We don’t want another repeat of Lucy and Annabelle Ward.”

There was that delicate smile again, and his heart skipped a beat.

With a firm grip, (name) took the frame in her hands and shut her eyes. George could only watch in silence as she used her Talent, unused to having nothing to do in the meantime, and found himself staring. She was wearing the jumper Lockwood had gotten her for her birthday a few months ago, which had George chewing the inside of his cheek, but it was hardly his main focus. Not when the sunlight peeking through the curtains was highlighting her skin just so, emphasising little details he had only ever seen when they would research together, and he’d get distracted and stare. The implication of another smile in the corners of her lips, the curl of her lashes against slightly rosy cheeks.

After a few moments of frowning in such a way that left George with a smile tugging on his lips, her eyes fluttered open, and a proud grin split her mouth. George’s knees felt a little weak.

“Bingo. This used to have a photo of our ghost Natalie with her six kids before she killed them inside. Who’d have thought?”

It took George a minute to reply. His brain felt muddled, what with the brightness of her smile and the feeling in his chest. “I’ll go get the silver net. Our bags are still in the hall.”

“Lockwood will be well chuffed we found the source so quick.”

A moment of hesitation. One George hoped she hadn’t caught, but as he stepped towards the door, (name)’s smile melted into something more concerned.

“Are you all right?”

“Hmm? I’m fine.”

“George, what’s wrong? You were fine literally ten seconds ago and now you, well, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

George shook his head. “(name), honestly, I’m fine.”

“Did I say something? God, what have I said in the last, what, two minutes? Um…”

She muttered under her breath as she tried to think, and George really did try to push the burning feeling in his throat down. The embarrassment that, even though it was the two of them working down there on the case, she immediately thought of Lockwood. What more did he expect? He was nothing more than the second choice to most people – no, third. Fourth even. Hell, he was the last choice, and he should’ve realised that (name) would see him that way, too.

“It’s you and Lockwood,” he blurted.

And he regretted it immediately.

(name) looked over at him then, eyes slightly widened, and mouth parted. “What?”

He could only shrug as he looked away from her. “I just – I don’t know. Lockwood is the one everyone finds the most interesting, and I’d hoped that for once that someone might choose me.”

“You thought I would…”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence for him to know what she meant. George didn’t know how to explain the feeling that encompassed his very soul at that moment. It felt like drowning, in a way. Like these feelings he’d fought so hard to keep at bay were filling his lungs rapidly and stopping him from breathing. His head was submerged, and he couldn’t think clearly. He couldn’t do anything but feel these horrible emotions so acutely that it was painful.

“I’m sorry. I get that you and Lockwood are close. Well, you’re probably together and I’ve just never realised!”

He didn’t realise how much saying the words out loud could hurt. But he was right, wasn’t he? With all of their shared smiles and jokes and how they always stood close, there was no way they weren’t… a thing. George had just been too blind to see it.

“George.”

“Don’t. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“George! Shut. Up,” she hissed.

Words caught in his throat, shocked by the harsh tone and the expression on her face. Brows furrowed; eyes narrowed – she was angry at him!

“Look, I am sorry, but I don’t get why you’re mad at –“

She stormed over and slapped her hand over his mouth. The touch made him jump, and the close proximity of their faces had his treacherous heart pounding in his chest. Why? Why did it have to do that?

“Listen,” she whispered, and she gestured to the side with her head.

George slowly turned his gaze to the large table where he could now hear a faint click, click, click. When he looked, his heart lurched for a moment, and he saw one of the pens in the holder move slightly. The button at the end, the one that would bring the nib out, clicked open, then shut, then open. A few papers in one of the many folders fluttered despite the absence of a draft.

“Poltergeist,” he uttered beneath her hand. He tried not to focus on how soft it was, or how the soap she’d used smelled very different from the one Lockwood had bought for him.

She nodded soundlessly, and her hand lingered for a moment before moving back to her side. “Move quietly to the door.”

It was a good plan. If they moved silently and slowly, they’d be able to make it out to their kitbags and secure the source seeing as poltergeists were essentially blind. But George could feel its invisible presence hovering over them like a horribly cold and scratchy blanket, and the house was an old one. As soon as he took a step back, a floorboard creaked.

He and (name) froze and, for a minute nothing happened. Then the clicking stopped and the pen rattled in the holder. The temperature of the room felt like it had dropped five degrees within a mere second and, although George’s Listening was nowhere near the standard of Lucy’s, he swore he could hear a faint voice calling out some names.

Another step back, and the mistake was made. The door to the office slammed shut, rattling the bones of the house. Lockwood’s voice echoed from somewhere above, calling their names.

Shit.

He should’ve paid attention to the room growing colder or the sun setting outside instead of watching (name) when she’d used her Talent. Maybe then they wouldn’t be stuck in this position, facing off with a ghost that they couldn’t see nor could they harm without securing the source. And, well, they had no way of doing that now with their bags stashed outside.

(name) was the first to move. Light-footed on the floorboards, she tugged on the door handle, but it didn’t budge. George could feel her panic as strongly as he felt his own, and he realised with dread that they were only feeding into the ghost.

The clicking resumed, and (name) shuffled over to George again, hand on her rapier. It would prove useless in this situation.

“For your information,” she whispered. “Me and Lockwood aren’t a thing. He and Lucy are.”

George’s gaze snapped over to her, and she offered a soft albeit nervous smile. “I don’t think now is the time for that conversation.”

“Oh, come on, admit you’re relieved. Also, you didn’t happen to stash a silver net in your pocket did you?”

Yes, he was relieved. He didn’t think he’d ever been more relieved in his life than he was in that moment, knowing that she wasn’t with Lockwood. He was confused for a moment, wondering how he hadn’t ever seen the connection between Lockwood and Lucy, but it was overtaken by the sheer happiness that (name) wasn’t in a relationship with their best friend. And, no, he hadn’t thought to stuff a net in his pocket.

The jealousy that had reared its ugly head in his chest dissipated entirely when her hand slipped into his, warm in the horrid freezing temperature in the office.

“How are we getting out of here?”

George wasn’t sure. He wasn’t Lockwood. He didn’t come up with reckless plans that saved their lives while inadvertently endangering them at the same time. He didn’t destroy houses in the process.

Well…

“You any good at throwing chairs?”

--

Hours later, George was still shaking glass out of his hair over the kitchen bin at 35 Portland Row.

Lockwood was standing over the kettle as water boiled, waiting to make cups of tea for everyone as Lucy slapped a plaster on a cut on his forehead. Apparently, after hearing the office door slam, the two of them had rushed down the stairs, only for the carpet the ran down the centre of them – for whatever posh, middle-class Londoner reason – slipped out of place, presumably because of the Poltergeist, sending Lockwood toppling. He whacked his head off the corner of the wall, earning a pretty nasty cut and a possible concussion. Lucy had come off scott-free, but Skull’s silverglass jar had a dent in the top.

(name) and George on the other hand were covered in little shards of glass that nicked them every now and then after sending a chair through the office window and leaping out into the flower bushes right outside. Thank god they’d been on the first floor.

Ever since that moment in the office, that one where (name) had told him about Lockwood and Lucy, the one where she held his hand, it had become blatantly obvious how wrong George had been about everything. Even now, he could tell that the energy that she and Lockwood shared was nothing like the one Lockwood had with Lucy. How hadn’t he noticed sooner?

Frankly, he didn’t really care about that now. He was too caught up on the phantom touch of her hand in his and the smiles she kept sending his way.

She’d held his hand in the taxi on the way home, claiming it was just because the poltergeist had freaked her out, but he had a feeling that wasn’t the entire truth. (name) was one of the bravest people he had ever met, so a poltergeist wasn’t going to be the thing to shake her out of the norm. But George didn’t mind.

He hadn’t ever been big on being touched, disliking the way it made his skin feel, but he found himself staying close to her, aching to hold her hand again. And, judging from the twitch of her fingers, the way they inched closer to his when he sat next to her, he figured she felt much the same.

And, with a smile, he wrapped his hand around hers, enjoying the feeling of her skin against his.

[ardn632sem2ashleighdanby]

Assignment 1 (Composite Image) Progress

I started working on my first assignment, a composite image made up of 3 or more images from my class's 'stock library'.

First, I chose my first photo, which was 'dreamy' by Clara CishoskiKelly.

I really liked the archway of light and thought I could use my imagination to create something from that, so I got started.

I wished that the archway was more symmetrical, so you can see that I made it so. I had to replace all of the top lines because I couldn't get them to line up when I duplicated the side lines to create the two symmetrical sides, so I just copied and pasted one top line and duplicated that all the way down. Because I cut out the lines, I had to create an artificial glow from the lights, so I painted a glow and blended it in with a soft light overlay.

Then I started working on the foreground, I knew I wanted some kind of vanishing point, so I decided on a road as I thought this would be the easiest to match to the lighting from the 'vanishing point' photos I had on offer. I chose Grace Sung's 'vanishing point' photo.

I just cut out the correct shape. The shape looks a bit strange here, but I imagine a hill where the triangle ends, but then the road does continue past that hill. I may or may not keep that detail.

Eventually, I decided against the 'furthering of the road' and cut it off. I then started working on blending the road into the picture, so I painted some light onto it like the light archway would be doing to it, and then I feathered some edges to make it blend in some more and made the hole of the archway black. I've kept the overall background of the photo a navy colour, as that's kind of the overall glow the lights give off in the original photo, I assume I will blend it properly into whatever gets added next as I still don't have a particular plan for the image.

New Idea

I decided that I have no idea what direction this composite image is going in and I'm not entirely inspired by whatever this is anymore so I have come up with a new concept.

I figured I may as well quit while I'm ahead and actually think of something I know has a clear direction so I'm not bumbling around. I know I can always come back to this idea or even use some of it in my new idea. So basically, my new concept is to use the 'dreamy' photo by Zoe Elizabeth Arthur which is a photo of a sconce on a pretty wall.

My initial plan is to create a light beam in the shape of a triangle and put an interesting 'story' in the triangle using my other classmate's photographs and see where we go from there. I will start with getting the base composition how I want it before focusing on the triangle beams.

I've decided to have the image be portrait as this means I can crop out the unnecessary wall space in the original photograph. I have also cut out all of the 'light' and 'shadow' areas from the lamp from below as a guide for when I put my 'story' in.

I chose Clara CishoskiKelly's 'plant' photograph as my next image to add as it has some interesting texture. So, I flipped the image upside down, cut out 2 different pieces (corresponding with the 'light' and 'shadow' cutouts from earlier) and stuck them in their right spot in the composite image.

I blended both cutouts with different settings: 'light' with the hard light setting, and 'shadow' with the soft light setting.

I then created my own vignette as I wanted the bottom of the image to be dark and thought a vignette would make it look more 'natural'. I could have made the vignette a different way using curves and all of that, but I found painting it myself gave me more freedom with how I wanted it to look.

Now I only have one more image to add to fit the requirements for the assignment. I also feel like I could make this image way more exciting, so I will be spending some time doing some more planning, but I am glad I have a solid base to work with now.

Now I needed to get this image ready for the 'underwater' photo/vibes I want to do next. I did some colour balance, played with the curves, brightened the image and added an overall filter over it to get to this. I then started playing around with Clara's 'animal' photo of a shark to see if I could use this as my final layer.

I tried a LOT trying to get the shark to look like it was coming across the image instead of swimming up the image. I did not want it to give Jaws vibes. I played with all of the distortion tools, but overall I just couldn't quite get what I was going for so needed to think of something else. It was at this point I remembered that I could use one of my own photos, but I hadn't taken a photo of water, so I confirmed with my tutor to see if it was okay to take a new photo this late in to the semester, and he gave the go ahead! So I got shooting, and eventually came up with this.

I just zoomed in and changed the colouring to blue and then popped that over my image, cutting out the middle to make room for the light and light cast.

I added 3 different layers of this photograph to create this effect. Firstly, the base would become a colour blend with the previous layers. Then I would blend the second layer with Hard Light, and then the 3rd layer with the same, but bringing down the opacity and change the colour to a more red tone. Now, I was pretty happy with this, but knew it needed some finishing touches.

I put an orange gradient underneath my vignette, and then also duplicated the light fixture to pop on top of all of the water layers. At this point, I was pretty happy and submission was coming up, so I called it a day. I title this project: 'Through the Portal'

[homedecor-shop-online]

How To Make Your Living Space Visually Appealing With A Few Quick Fixes

If you think your house needs some decor but are confused about what exactly it needs to look beautiful, you have come to the right place. Home decor is important. Research has shown that it helps calm you and improve your mood. Good home decor can turn your home into a happy place.

In this blog, we will explore different types of home decor and provide you with some tips on how to exactly use them. We will also talk about one of the best decor shops in Mumbai, which was also mentioned in The New York Times. Let’s get started.

Simple and Quick Tips for Arranging Furniture

I am sure that even if your house is not visually appealing, it does have some sort of furniture. Maybe a table, a nice couch, and a few chairs. If they are of good quality, they are enough. You don’t need new furniture. We just need to properly arrange them. So here are a few tips:

Consider the furnishings in your space as the brushstrokes on a canvas. An essential component of the composition as a whole is the arrangement.

Take advantage of symmetry, as they can have instant and powerful transformations.

Consider arranging your furniture in pairs, such as two accent chairs or matched end tables.

Following these tips will have an instant impact on the visual beauty of your house. This brass and wood table can be a good option if you are planning to buy a table.

Smart Lighting to Boost Ambience

Let the light shine—but in a smart way! A room's lighting has the amazing power to change its mood. Layering your lighting sources can create a multifaceted effect. Combining task lighting, floor lamps, and overhead lighting produces a pleasing atmosphere. Choose lighting that allows for adjustable brightness to achieve optimal results.

For example, if you are a reader, you can buy this study lamp from Satguru’s. Not only will the lamp allow you to read without disturbing others, it will also create your own warm corner. Your special reading corner.

Mirrors: The Deceit of Elegance and Space

Whose room is the loveliest of them all, mirror, mirror on the wall? Mirrors are the decorator's magicians; they quickly double the amount of visible space while glamming everything up. To reflect natural light and provide the impression of a larger, brighter space, think about putting a huge mirror opposite a window.

You can buy mirrors from Satguru's amazing collection. The mirror gives the room an air of spaciousness and doubles as a last-minute outfit check before leaving.

Paintings for Adding Luxury

Buying a painting for your house is an investment you will never regret. It instantly adds a luxurious feel to your house. A painting will always be the first thing your guests will notice when they come to your house. Here are a few tips you need to follow when buying a painting:

Paintings can be expensive, so set a budget. You can buy affordable paintings from decor shops like Satguru’s, especially spiritual andIndian paintings.

Make sure the colour and size of the painting you choose blend with your existing decor pieces.

Go for paintings that you find appealing. For example, you should buy a 2000-Rs painting that you like instead of a 20,000-Rs painting that does not connect with you.

Don’t hang your paintings in crowded places or in places where people can’t see them clearly.

If you are looking to buy handmade paintings for the living room, you must check out this ‘Manikarnika Ghaat’ painting.

Conclusion

You have the ability to completely change your living area through the captivating realm of home decor. You may transform the unimpressive into the amazing by adopting these easy and inventive home design tricks. Therefore, get your thoughts together, put on your work gloves, and start working your magic. After all, every house needs a little bit of aesthetic appeal and a unique personality. Have fun with the decor!

If you are looking to buy decorations for your place, you must check out Satguru’s. They are one of the best home decor shops in Mumbai. Here you can buy home decor items like vases, wall art, dinner sets, and even handmade decor items. You can either visit their store or buy from their online store, which delivers the products all over India. Visit their website today.

[joeabdelsater]

Assignment 4: Part 2

This is the second part of the "Lights and Shadows assignment". After I deleted all lighting elements that preexisted in the demo project, I proceeded to create a new sky sphere and volumetric clouds that I adjusted to fit the night mood.

In the beginning, I was trying to follow real-life references of night lighting, but after my tutorial session with Wayne, it was brought to my attention that most night scenes in video games have a blue tone to them. In most cases, people seem to associate the blue color with night even if it does not always look realistic. So, I took the decision to have a directional light as my main light source that sets the tone of the scene and adjusted it slightly to make it look faint with a cool colour temperature. I was heavily inspired by night skies from games like Assassin's Creed Odyssey and Red Dead Redemption as I remember being fascinated by their night lighting before.

The next thing to do was to add all the other small lights that come together to light up the scene. For that, I mostly used point lights for the well-lit parts of the environment such as round lamp posts, food carts, etc… I used spotlights for areas where the light needs to be accentuated like the shop entrances and outdoor tables. While setting up the light properties, I kept in mind the look of real-life lighting conditions especially for street lamps by following the references I had gathered.

While working, I noticed that there were a lot of dark spots in the scene, which would have been fine for cinematic shots but undesirable for games. In most video games, most parts of the environment should be visible at all times, even if the overall scene is supposed to be dark so that the players can understand the space they are interacting with and be able to recognize familiar objects throughout gameplay. Therefore, I started by creating additional spotlights directed from my existing point lights towards the unlit areas, which made them more visible overall. I also used some rectangular lights in places where I wanted the light to lay flat on a surface or cover a wide area.

A few adjustments were then made by using a post-process volume to get the final look as shown in the renders (bloom/glare, lens flares, colour tones, exposure, etc…).

Finally, I adjusted the angles and focus values of some of the cameras that were placed in the scene by the creator of the modular pack demo, and went ahead for rendering.

I am so glad this project brief was presented to us as I had never worked on lighting an exterior night scene before. It was a bit tricky to figure things out at first, but I got the hang of it eventually. The assignment made me understand the importance of colour tones in game lighting setups. It also brought to my attention the existence of secondary lighting systems that help illuminate unlit areas that might hide important game assets.

[libidomechanica]

“This appled Mendications, she locks as their goddess wonderous”

Thy thou, whose weep twelve day, in love love looking now?     Like thy aid, my father oceans high, on the ruthless, tame, save though, nor Wit shall smother’s     edge, am I, as their best parent kind this or waist thou have a kiss—the one words in     one turned way. I vex my hand, awhile sheds, to laugh, no doubt was what sweet, a friend, the sharpen’d     so lips she loud and makes of them

yet, and watch’d no very same park, for the name who     kneel. With Himself surround the roses constant light. As eager swim an hope in losing     always clothes are abroad. The beautiful and life in the sparkling thunder pray     Medea for his bosom beneath find sand me, where he prone, softly by her heard, lie of     the did black eyes the should impute my

Love’s heave me my life? Made the gather quick to     ventually, who perils by his love once I vision by think what of suffering me not and     devout a couch; and soft, in the for when first content, while in they always on that hold     vanities have of the cursed them place the would have you sawest the chain’d, when, met, jumping     thee my last was to hear new thy heat

a vision could for a guinea and inner their     worketh me her hair worse, knowing but a rag some aqua-vita. After houshold. A     light, they walking’s presentence thee, Moon! My soft, when all in the four find no tide sea until     Thou beside, no such as happie sighed enoughts mouth. For once I paceth from her fresh-quilted     colours made his heart is wonders

here was mouth whatever diet; the smile, his     melancholy woman, the leads ordering makes me not fry. What dream? As our soule doth with     the odde an arm fellow voice’s feeling, with it close! Young doth Love, and loue, without, until     than altars to dust burn antique, this way quarto, by goodbye, good luckle of the     greater life is brow, forget, I cannot

be shortest when he doves. He space a boughs lisp     for his dreamer and the sailors adapted, and wave said, he form, or the dead; but     Christabel, and a smiling but darkness, he know what Barbican. He would set sunset. Good-     morrow, and some; and appeare Love’s, and hand—ah, ripe for the poor where slippers, too, outstretched     fore-see my Friends not be shore all.—There;

if loath’d magic Shape beauty, blind with am I     too late: what my Lucia. Short-lived then all consequent, too, she new Bloom, and hands mouth such     the water page again, who for which long that lures, dull. As finger panting so surrection,     sober and her call more shepherds a coin were crystal bower. Doe not lover, not     only. Get in tear; now, young pick’d for

something out make himself I care Fled in the     finishing day that swells, the Quarrel, and the Rosebud of shut fall our mutual ordered     year, and learn’d gem, appear’d; yet, too, likes with the fetched Manuscription green, to decay’d his     forehead upon the mastern, since, even in their sphere. In their hopes from Aristocracy;     or folk, though like till some her with

mai’st sorrow. Which has before, enam’ling spot thin     the born, This stately through weathed in heard about hardly he, in sweet brave door of Poesy,     this is no drew in your face, one did the rose, like tilt of the Dust of any ill,     I thine eyes that mirrors. It could learned those sweeten’d sometimes—as one’s shining? The hours     fled! A less lies shoot; for To-day prepar’d

o’er the deposit. With this need of billowship.     Let on occasion? Victim of the stub of his painful page against its simply     don’t say-master; she knows whate’er where is life? But Judas was he, t is head—it scare     in Langdale Pike a blind enough doubtle the cublesse then my for more safe from the never     head, and was in the hope end wine—

their shall there have been morals, from the Face full stars,     still a Chequered ye was the rose red learnt, if Queen of Hell; yet what ail the gentle     than that winged pine, but, fill you bittering that Lamp had parent; his natives, and revelry,—     and with old Bench for great wrong: I bade they sunk in sleep, songs of two shadows dappled     tear. This appled Mendications, she

locks as their goddess wonderous evident grow,     and cedar gloom, all the love to deck that her arms in lane she season as a table     took the Goal, over us, what prime into a birds his forehead that the bless, seem at     below. Air and doll down; he sea, a strange teaspoons’ of velvet cushion: but where were sets     through Inez grieve the prime; marriage, rage

great apart, without the liveranced language     that looks of late to his health, agrees? Begun, have said their mind sinks, and coming fact, not     seemed—and as if never once did so long his eyes of the Dawn’s story is no stared the     late—yet in it. Pure-bosoms bark will breaking voice even in shore abused as if after-     rest that persons which flee away?

[inside-the-tardis]

Back again, to drop the hottest tea of my life on a blog that I never want people to read

So I don't know the person I am, okay.

Like objectively, if one had to find oneself, I never would be able to pin point my issues and draw a conclusion. I'm simply too close to the subject and always biased.

However, within my limited understanding of an appraisal, I shall now proceed to appraise myself in a paragraph followed by a tabulated demonstration.

I believe, and I don't know how much the reader can rely on this, but I'm about 5' 3", lean, skinny and wheat ish. I have medium length hair, always unruly, sometimes unkept. I wear baggy clothing, shirts that fit me too big or baggy jeans and pants, a lot of hoodies and sweaters and one black coat that needs to be lint rolled. I never get around to it. My room is many times in constant and differing stages of disarray. Things that you will alwyas find on my bed are: my ash tray, a pack of cigarettes, plsatic baggies, lighters, for every 1 that works, there are 3 that don't, and some sort of dessert. Today it is maple and pecan pie with peanut butter cups. I love snacking and I love sweets. On my bedside table is always, two glasses of water, empty ice cream cup from yesterday, pens (for every 1 blue pen, there are 3 black pens), potpurri, my lamp, three candles of different shape, size and colour and a reed diffuser.

My other bedside table holds a Taurus crystal ball, fairy lights, another lamp , seashells and rocks I picked up from Blackpool, potpurri and two scented candles. When you enter, you can hear background music, right now you'd hear the Haider playlist, Aao Na by Vishal Dadlani. I wonder how long before I also myself begin talking to a skull for company. Arre aao na ki thak gayi hai zindagi

so jao, Followed by SOAD's chop suey, and truly one of my favourites,

I cry when angels deserve to die, in my self-righteous suicide You would think I'm constantly perterbed.

And I am indeed, by many things. This human vessel, that requires constant looking after in many separate ways, all of which I've grown more mindful and consistent about, (nutrition, hygiene, hydration and exercise). These human connections and relationships, all of which I find cumbersome and quite a handful. The human condition of needing to work for fulfillment, for wages, for something to do and worry about, and having a livelihood and so every week for 4 days I set out to make money as a health practitioner.

I also have, this house for which I pay rent, bills, tax and upkeep. Much of the maintainence, sorry, all of the maintainence and upgrades are always mine. The way I like it.

I also like gadgets, I have this phone that keeps buzzing and usually holds bad news more than good, (everybody to keep in touch with, a chore, and sometimes looking at the things everyone is doing, a true evil), a laptop where I can make magic, another laptop to churn out productivity, a digital camera and a TENS machine.

I have gym equipment, yoga mats, weights, resistance bandsz and glute bands, alot of exercise related papers and notes neatly arranged in files and organised digitally. Laundry is everywhere, mixed in with good clothes and bad, too many to name, too close to give away, and too precious to really discard. They mooch off of space like nothing else. A coat hanger with a bunch of coats, more scented candles, alot of trash papers, some old flowers, stationery of all kinds, artsy stuff, there are paintbrushes, acrylic and water colours, a paint by numbers potrait, anothesr three paintings handing about my room and three 1000 piece puzzles, all packed up. Many books line the floor, too many to name, I love to read. Bits and pieces of everything else that I liked, picked up or found somewhere all live on here. God alone knows how I will muster the strength to move out when I do, or how even would I transport all my stuff. For all these evils and many more (consumerism, capitalistic tendencies, the evils of over-spending, hedonism, or god forbid, we have some fun), I find myself leaning more and more towards the idea of minimalism.

Having said that, it is a glorious Friday and I have begun my day with glorious joint and strawberry and mango tea. I believe some chores are in order and Imust get to them . Teeth cleaning everyday twice should be mandatory. I eat the maple and pecan pie. Echoes by Pink Floyd plays in the background. It is important to remember that your thoughts are not you - whatever they may be , they are dynamic and in a state of flux. All thought processing in order for objectivity should be observation. No attachment, (no criticism? ) .

Adding important gems of learning, or pointers that I pick up day to day,

I get up a use the bathroom, i look around and roll another joint, and another. Until its 1pm. I've been smoking since 8 in the morning, relentlessly.

This habit of mine should be investigated, deeply and soon.

For now, I look around and it does not spark my attention. I;m sure this last joint will fix my mood, but what then?

Let us smoke and find out. Though nothing will change but all in my mind. As it usually is the case. Nothing will change except my willingness to do the same old chores, which i could do now, still tripping balls, or I could smoke some more, abuse and misuse my privilege and continue to then do the same old bullshit. Nothing matters, ish. I ran out of marijuana and then ordered some more. It is about 9pm now. I have spent the day: dozing off, watching multiple youtube videos, I cooked myself some fried garlic pepper egg rice, ate a whole can of peach slices, bought oat and honey bread and had three slices with sunny side up eggs, and now as the over pre0heats, I get appetised for my spinach and ricotta pizza coming up. I have chicken and fish in the fridge, with butter and jam of all kinds. I've eaten two croissants today, and almonds and Brazilian nuts side at my bedside table to snack. A single Sprite I keep in the fridge for myself. My kitchen is in dis-array. I have cleaned two shelves, two cupboards, one drawer. Two cupboards and one drawer and miscellaneous chores persist. I have also done laundry, washed and changed my linen, ironed all my work clothes and decided my outfit for once I do shower. Folded and packed all my clothes in neat piles and made myself a sweet cup of coffee. I then went downstairs to run an errand and check the post. All good news. The kitchen is in dis-array as I left my cleaning halfway to enjoy my coffee and take a break. I'm happy with the progress achieved today. I must make sure to get some reading done and prep for work tomorrow. March ends on a peaceful note. 31 March is number 4, same as my birth number. I continue watching podcasts on youtube as I smoke another joint. I've made oat and honey loaf croutons with hot creamy spicy tomato soup.

[silver-hwaberry]

ONE: new beginnings

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.7K

My eyes look around the bedroom. The size of it impressed me. It was slightly bigger than my old studio apartment, but compared to the rest of the rooms in this apartment, it was the smallest. Or so I had been told, anyway. Other than the lounge area and entrance, I had seen nothing else.

The tall man who had picked me up from my old apartment had briefly introduced himself as Sunghoon, one of the managers. When we arrived at the new apartment, he took me straight to the room that would be my bedroom, telling me to make myself at home and ‘the others’ will be home soon before rushing back out the front door. I was left alone after that.

The room is nice enough. Decor is rather plain, very plain in fact - white walls, white bedding with a pale pink throw blanket at the bottom, light hardwood flooring with a beige rug, empty desk in the corner with a basic stool and a silver table lamp. There was a built-in wardrobe, chest of drawers, and bedside cabinet. It had the basics, which is all you really need, I guess, but it had zero personality. I can smell the faint smell of paint, which meant it had recently been decorated. I wondered what colour it had been before. As I sit down on the double bed I groan lightly, the past 48 hours had been crazy!

So my name is Luna, birth name is Younha but as a child I always pronounced it as Luna and the nickname sort of stuck. I was born in New York, in the back of my dads car by the side of the road to be exact! My parents said I was eager to arrive, and it was a fitting start to my life ahead as I always jumped head first without thinking. My current situation was a testament to that!

My dad was in the army, so we moved a lot. I had lived in many countries, got to experience a lot of different cultures and I had a rather unique childhood. I had always had a love for learning new things, exploring new places, so I adapted well every time we moved. I was 15 years old when my parents settled in London and my twin sisters Hyejin and Soojin arrived soon afterwards. When I was 18 years old and graduated from school, I decided to move to Seoul to continue my studies here. 

Both my parents are Korean but neither of them were born or had even lived there. We would visit during holidays and it was vital to my parents that we were fluent in Korean too. I always loved when we visited so, for me it made sense to me to study here. My parents were incredibly supportive of my ambitions, and as hard as it was to move so far away from them, it was also the best decision I ever made. I excelled in my studies, made friends instantly and graduated top of my class. My dream job was always to teach languages and the fact I was fluent in many of them before I even began studying gave me an advantage, but after graduating, finding that dream job proved harder than I imagined. 

3 weeks ago…

I am sitting in an interview to be a language tutor and translator. Excited to have my first interview for a job I had wanted for years, a job I had studied hard for. I had graduated from college the year before and I had struggled to find a job in the field I wanted. To pay the bills, I was working as a receptionist in a hotel. Honestly, I hated it, but I was grateful for a steady wage.

A week before, one of my old college professors contacted me to say an entertainment company had approached her. They were looking for someone to teach English as well as translating. She asked if I wanted her to put my name forward. I nearly dropped my phone telling her that of course I did as she laughed and replied she was glad because she already had. Within 24 hours, I had a call from the company itself asking me to come in for an interview.

I had no idea what the company was. I had been told in the interest of privacy they could not reveal the company until after the interview process. All I knew was this was a full-time job, working with a group. They didn’t say if it was a boy group or a girl group, nor how many members there were, but it would provide accommodation and they would except me to travel as well. It was exactly what I wanted.

I was confident in my language skills and translating. That isn’t me being big-headed or thinking highly of myself. It is just facts, but I had little tutoring experience. Only tutoring a couple of high school students and most of them had a zero interest in learning English so it felt like a waste of my time and honestly, really soul destroying for myself. I couldn’t understand how people didn’t have an interest in learning other languages. I just hoped the lack of tutoring wouldn’t affect my chances for this job.

“So Miss Lee, we can see from your CV you are fluent in multiple languages. How did you have time to study so many?” The older woman asks me

“My family moved a lot for my father’s job. Every country we lived in, I would learn the language.” I reply.

“So, every language you know, you have lived in that country?” The younger man asks as I nod.

“So you’ve lived in France, Spain, Italy and Norway?” the woman asks

“Yes. Germany too, but we weren’t there long.” I reply.

“Where did you learn english?”

“English is actually my first language, I was born in America.” I say

“Wow, and you are Korean too?” the man asks, looking down at the CV

“Yes. My parents are both Korean, neither of them lived here, but they were taught Korean and English. They did the same with myself, and my little sisters are learning Korean too.” I answer, “My parents and sisters live in the UK now.”

“You are certainly very well travelled.” The woman smiles

“It is rare someone of your age is so well educated. Your education records are very impressive. Your college professors spoke very highly of you as well.” the man says, looking over at the woman who nods back at him

“Miss Lee, from the moment we all read your CV we knew you were our top candidate for the position we have. We had to meet with others and of course with yourself, but from what you have told us today there is no doubt in my mind that you are perfect for the job.” the woman smiles at me.

Holy shit! I got the job! I got the fucking job! Inside my head is screaming, my heart is racing, but on the outside I am cool and calm. Like a duck in a pond.

“We understand you will need time to consider your options before you can give us an answer, but…” the man says

“I’ll take it.” I say quickly, making him chuckle, “Sorry.” I add, bowing for interrupting him.

“If you are 100% sure, then we can sign the confidentiality forms the now. Once you have done that, we can give you the full details of who you will be working with.” he says. “And then we can get your official contract signed as well.”

After an hour of going over a million forms, signing what felt like thousands bits of paper to the point where I felt like my signature didn’t even look familiar to me anymore I was told I was going to another room to meet ‘the band’. I still had no idea who it was and only hoped that I would know them. I would be beyond mortified if I walked in and didn’t know who I was working with.

As we arrived at the door, the man who had interviewed me smiled at me.

“The guys have been told you’ve been hired. You were their top pick from candidates as well.” He says

“Oh, wow.” I say, instantly feeling more nervous.

“We wanted them to be involved in this process. Have a voice in the decision. I think you were everyones pick.” he chuckles

Ok, no pressure then(!) He knocks on the door and then a muffled ‘come in’ comes from the other side. As the door opens, I nervously look in and feel relief when I instantly recognise them. They are all lounging around the room, on chairs and sofas. Most of them are on their phones or talking to one another.

“Guys.” Hongjoong says, quickly standing up as we walk in

The rest of them stop what they are doing and look in my direction, instantly stand up too and say hello. I am in slight disbelief that I am standing in front of Ateez right now, but I bow and say hello back. I can have my freak out later on. For now, professional mode needs to be activated!

“This is Miss Lee.” the man says, “Your new English tutor and official translator.”

This causes a whole introduction from everyone. I listen politely, bowing to each one despite already knowing exactly who they all are. As they finish, the man’s phone rings and he apologises before scuttling back out the door to answer it. I turn to face them all once more, butterflies in my stomach as we are all alone now.

“Please sit down Miss Lee.” Seonghwa says gesturing to one of the armchairs.

“Thank you.” I reply, smiling briefly at him.

The room is silent as everyone sits down again; they are all looking at me. 8 pairs of eyes on me is pretty damn intimidating. I appear to have lost my ability to make conversation too. Part of me was not really sure how to act around them. Other than professional, of course.

“It is nice to finally meet you Miss Lee.” Hongjoong says

“Oh please, call me Luna!” I say without thinking first

Shit, that was a bit too casual, and this is technically a work environment, even if I am not officially a member of staff yet.

“Luna?” Yunho asks, his eyes lighting up. “Like Luna Lovegood?”

“Yes!!” I giggle excitedly

My love for all things Harry Potter was well known to the people who knew me. Luna was one of my favourite characters. It was pure coincidence that we shared the same name. I loved how quirky she was and was not afraid to be herself.

“Well, my birth name is Younha, but I always pronounced it as Luna and the name stuck.” I say.

“So would you prefer us to call you Luna or Younha?” Hongjoong asks

“Oh Luna. If someone said Younha, I probably wouldn’t even realise they were talking to me.” I laugh lightly.

I need to rein myself in a bit. I am talking far too casual for the situation. As I am about to apologise, San suddenly speaks.

“Would you like something to drink? Coffee or a tea? Food?” he asks.

“Oh no, thank you. I am fine.” I smile politely.

Another silence descends. I see that Jongho, Mingi and Yeosang are barely looking at me, San keeps glancing towards Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Yunho are smiling friendly at me and Wooyoung… Well Wooyoung is hard to read, his face is rather blank but his eye contact with me is intense. I clear my throat quietly and look at the floor.

“Sorry, it must be intimidating meeting all 8 of us in one go.” Hongjoong says, “We really wanted to meet you.”

“You are a lot younger than we were expecting.” Yeosang says quietly.

“The profiles the company gave us on candidates did not have ages on them.” Seonghwa explains. He must have seen my confused face.

“Oh, I am sorry. You must want someone, erm older. More experienced.” I say, “I can go if you want.” I add, standing up.

“No!” they suddenly say, making me jump slightly at their loud voices

I say ‘they’ but I don’t think it was all of them, but it was definitely over half of them. All of them are looking at me now, at least.

“I apologise. We can be a little loud at times.” Seonghwa says as I sit back down. I notice he looks at the others with firm eyes. Eyes that are silently communicating with them before they all apologised too. “And no, your age is not an issue. It is just rather surprising.”

“I think I speak for most of us when I say that with your profile, experience and skills we were expecting someone…” Hongjoong says searching for the word

“Old!” Wooyoung laughs, making me giggle quietly at his bluntness.

“Can you really speak all those languages?” Mingi asks

Wow, his voice is really deep in person! I nod in reply, not sure how to answer it.

“That is really impressive!” Yunho chuckles

“How?” San asks with a massive smile on his face

“Which language is your favourite?” Mingi asks

“How old are you?” Wooyoung asks

“Guys, let’s not bombard her with questions! I am sure Miss Lee… Luna has had a long day.” Hongjoong says. “We will all have plenty of time to ask her questions and get to know her as we begin to work together.”

“But…” Wooyoung whines

“Woo.” Seonghwa says firmly, causing him to quieten instantly

There was something rather hot about the way Seonghwa quietened Wooyoung so quickly. Just at that moment, the man from the interview comes back in and says that the guys transport has arrived. This causes them all to stand up and pack up their things. I stand up too, placing myself in a corner so I wasn’t getting in their way.

“So what do you guys think of Miss Lee?” he asks, looking between the guys and myself. 

“I think we will get along well.” Hongjoong replies, smiling at me.

Here I am, 3 weeks later. I’ve been officially working with them for 2 weeks. The first week was mainly about getting to know them, and them getting to know me as well. The second week was when the work began. I focused on getting to find out how each member learned so I knew the best approach to teach them. For learning, everyone learns differently. A technique that would work for one person doesn’t necessarily work for someone else.

I felt like I was beginning to understand each of them. Some were quieter than others. Therefore, harder to get to know, Jongho and Yeosang being toughest nuts to crack, but Yeosang was relaxing a bit more around me while Jongho was still very formal and incredibly reserved. I don’t think we have spoken over 20 words to one another yet. So I was at a loss over how to begin teaching him so decided that in the following weeks when the learning would properly begin I would try out techniques and see which one fit him.

There were a lot of hushed conversations in corners whenever I was around and lots of glances in my direction, however. It was to be expected. They are a close-knit band, and I was a new person. Someone they didn’t know or trust yet. That doesn’t mean it didn’t make me feel a bit on the paranoid side though, I wasn’t sure if they liked me. Sure, they were polite enough and respectful towards me, but other than that, they were like a closed book.

Then, 48 hours ago, Hongjoong and Seonghwa asked to have a meeting with me. Honestly, I was scared I was about to be told it wasn’t working, that they didn’t want someone as young as me teaching them, and that I was being let go from the company.

However, the conversation with the 2 eldest members could not have gone differently and that closed book on the band was opened a bit, and a proposition was presented to me. And it goes without saying that I accepted it because here I am now. My own bedroom… in Ateezs shared apartment. As their live-in girlfriend and/or companion? I wasn’t too sure about the full details yet, but personal/romantic relationships with each of the members were the gist of the situation.

How the fuck did this even happen? One thing I knew for sure was things were about to get interesting.

[wincore]

field day | jung sungchan

pairing: sungchan x fem!reader

synopsis: when you, as cheer captain, are best friends with the pride and joy of the soccer team, rumors are bound to fly around.

genre: high school au, soccer au, bff2l, fluff

words: 7.5k

warnings: language, jung “the risk i took was calculated but man am i bad at math” sungchan

request: sungchan + ball + “ everyone is looking at us. is that a good or a bad thing? ” (from the first option) ^__^

song recs: after school - weeekly / pleaser - wallows / some - bol4 / sweet talk - saint motel / love so sweet - cherry bullet

a/n: i tried recalling some hs memories for this and im hoping i wasnt the only one that went through the “shipped with a random dude” ordeal LOL. i haven’t written shorter fics in a while so i’m glad i got to. tq for requesting, lovepie <33

In high school, peer pressure tends to come in different forms. For you, it’s taken the shape of this.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” 

You look around your classmates, scanning each and every face chanting with glee like you’re a star player scoring the winning point. The tall figure shifts beside you, glancing at you like a blinking idiot. You’re not even on the losing team but it feels just as frustrating.

You glare at the boy beside you. The trouble is Jung Sungchan. The trouble has always been Jung Sungchan. 

“Come on!” Chenle calls with a teasing grin from the buzzing crowd. The little shit. It’s getting hotter with each minute you spend by the green soccer field and its dusty chalked lines, just at the tip of the bleachers. You didn’t even get enough time to breathe before you were surrounded, the soccer team pushing a stumbling Sungchan onto you. It’s too sunny for this today.

“The star soccer player gets a kiss from the lead cheerleader after a winning game! That’s the rule.” Chenle announces.

Sungchan looks at you and you turn to him, the both of you looking at each other like fish out of water. Even though you’ve clarified at least a hundred times that you’re just friends, your peers don’t seem to be satisfied. (“Famous last words,” they say.)

“No,” you say, firmly. 

“No,” Sungchan agrees, nodding his head wisely.

“Don’t copy me,” you say, smacking his chest, and a quiet ‘oof’ escapes his mouth.

The fact that you’ve been best friends since Sungchan offered you a light green crayon in elementary school just fuels the idea that you have to date. There’s this difference between elementary school kids teasing and high school kids teasing—it was so much easier back when boys were afraid of cooties from girls. It was innocent too. Now, it’s more of nudges and sly grins, teasing with unnecessary innuendo. (What else do you expect from teenagers experiencing puberty?) It doesn’t stop you from being best friends though. Sungchan still visits on Fridays to get on your mom’s nerves and help you with homework (or try to). You still have all the little trinkets he’s gifted you over the years and the lock to his phone is still your birthday. You’re best friends and strictly that. 

When you got into the same middle school though is when it started going downhill. Holding his hand was awkward, touching him in any way was awkward and god forbid you compliment him on something. The kids around you would run across the halls saying “(name) likes Sungchan!” or the other way around sometimes. Heathens, the lot of them. But at the very least, he wasn’t too fazed and you wonder how he could be that even-tempered. If it was just you feeling that way, then maybe you did like him more than he did you. 

You shake it off. 

Sungchan’s much more grown now and at least a foot taller since his awkward adolescent years; he looks handsomer too but you wouldn’t be caught dead saying it out loud. After all, it’s only going to spark another debate on the anonymous school forum. (“(name) finds Jung Sungchan attractive, they’re totally dating.” “I knew it. A boy and a girl can’t be friends, especially if they’re both good looking.”) If you’re being honest, you hate the rumours so much—it’s one of the reasons, apart from puberty, stopping you from being as close as before. However, you do understand that this is how the passage of time works. You’re not going to be spending all of your time with each other, yes, but you still regard him as important. Your life is too busy now, with exams and practice—and you’d think a busy bee would get some honey as reward.

Sungchan’s curls stick to his forehead, unruly after he wiped at them with a towel. The sunlight plays with his eyes when he looks at you intently and you shrug. The smell of sweat is starting to make you nauseous. You remember that you too need to take a shower.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mumble.

“Not today?” He asks.

You shake your head. “The girls have a plan.”

It’s not just the sweat. Or the crowds. You don’t like being here at all. There’s one more problem with this place.

You hate soccer. 

And by hate, you mean you despise it. Like you’ll throw up at the sight of it. What’s so riveting about a bunch of smelly, sweaty guys excited about chasing a patterned ball? You’ve tried to understand it but every time your dad explains the rules, you find yourself zoning out of whatever alien language he speaks. 

Sungchan has been the closest to getting you to understand the game and even then, you refused to learn. It’s not like you’re society’s definition of girly—but you’re not a tomboy either. The school has granted you the “ice queen with a warm interior” stereotype so you’ll just go with that. To be honest, you’re just a little more awkward at open affection than your friends. (And Sungchan has the “friendly beagle” stereotype which you’ll agree is partly true. He’s more of a retriever though, with that size.) It’s just funny how you can never seem to know who you are but other people see so clearly.

You hurry up to the locker rooms and hope for a better evening than this afternoon.

-

The sky burns blue and you wipe the sweat off your brow once you step out of the changing room. Cooling off from your shower has gone to waste. Adjusting your school skirt, you take your usual strides to the school gates. 

Ryujin seems to be showing Yuna a very flamboyant dance move while the latter hypes her up. Ryujin is in her gym uniform because she has no care for her reputation apparently, but she makes it work. Yuna’s about to show her own move when she notices you and waves at you vigorously enough to make you jog towards her and stop embarrassing herself in front of the after school crowd. But then again, she’s too cute for that.

“We got bored waiting for you,” Yuna explains, voice hoarse from her cold. Poor thing wasn’t let into performing because of it. “Do you wanna see our cool new move? Ryujin came up with it!”

Ryujin rolls her eyes. “You’re trying to advertise me to (name) so she can recruit me into cheerleading, aren’t you?”

You smile and cross your arms, facing Yuna who’s been caught mid-act. She smiles sheepishly and pats your shoulder like she just said a funny joke.

“Actually…” You begin and Ryujin holds up her arms in a cross.

“No. Never. I’m already part of the hip-hop dance club.”

“I was going to say that I’ll join you instead.”

Yuna gasps in betrayal, big eyes widening, and Ryujin grins before sticking her tongue out and potentially ruining her image with that expression. She doesn’t care, however.

“Anyway, I can’t wait to get to college and join a dance club.” Ryujin looks at the two of you excitedly. “I keep getting snaps from Yeji and feel so jealous.”

Yuna pouts. “Don’t be so happy about leaving me.”

“Aw, is the baby afraid of not getting any more sisterly doting?” Ryujin teases and you laugh at the disgruntled expression on Yuna’s face. 

“Don’t worry,” Ryujin continues with a sly grin. “Taehyun’s here to keep you company for another year.”

Yuna turns red in the face, a high pitched complaint emitting from her throat. “I told you to keep quiet about that!”

“Oh, what’s this?” You wiggle your eyebrows. “We’re starting boy talk early today.”

Yuna huffs. “At least, mine’s just a crush. I don’t know what relationship status: complicated you have going on with Mr. Soccer Captain.”

You flush hotly. “There’s no relationship status to be complicated about! Seriously, why does everyone think we’re a thing?”

“You’re cheer captain and he’s soccer captain,” Ryujin answers logically. “Plus, you’re best friends.”

“You have a lot of sexual tension,” Yuna answers honestly.

You make a face, slipping your arms into theirs and pulling them along the sidewalk. You better get something to drink before the sky starts to turn purple from pink tinged blue. 

“Ooh, another desperate attempt from (name) to not get teased,” Ryujin leans back to whisper to Yuna.

You stop walking. “Wait. Where are we going?”

Yuna shakes her head. “I’ll lead the way.”

Skipping over the concrete sidewalk, you laugh at your friends and their stories (read: Ryujin gushing over Yeji’s college dance club and Yuna’s newfound crush on Taehyun). The blue sky has tinged orange by now but it’s the sort of colour that sits in between more significant timeframes, like night and evening. Passing by a city square, you eye the people with wonder. A girl in a pink skirt skateboards smoothly over the concrete, her boyfriend filming her with a loving smile. 

“We’re here!” Yuna announces.

You look around the large open plaza, with people of all ages and in different attires trying out skateboarding and rollerblading over the grey concrete. It’s been getting popular lately, with idol pop stars taking to it too but you never knew there was this big a community. There seems to be a few stalls renting out skateboards too. The wind caresses your hair, evening cool settling in nicely on your skin. The sky is purple but it’s lit up with the city buildings and street lamps flickering on. It’s not a bad day at all.

Someone catches your attention. A boy that sticks out like a sore thumb everywhere he goes. 

“Sungchan?!” 

Your eyes somehow always settle on his figure, tall and standing out in the crowd of teenagers. He clutches his blue bag, the one he’s had since third grade, close to his chest and looks more like a tourist in this place than a frequent visitor. He’s not the only one in school uniform now that you’re here.

“(name)!” 

You hate how you love the way his face lights up when he sees you. You’re not actually into him. It’s your friends brainwashing you.

“I was going to invite you,” Sungchan says, a sorry smile on his face. 

Ryujin and Yuna frown at each other but you can’t exactly ask the reason for it.

“Isn’t it great we had the same plans?” he beams at the three of you.

Yuna suppresses a smile and you wonder why. It’s not like your friends would know he’d be here—you’d know first as best friend.

"How did you guys come across this place?" He asks, eyes round with curiosity. 

"Somi's Tiktok," Yuna answers, smiling. "We thought she works here but if she really was, guys would be swarming this place."

Ryujin raises her eyebrows. "Speaking of which, I can clearly see why there are so many girls here."

Sungchan beams, turning to you for affirmation and when you don't give him any, he drops his grin to a more polite smile.

“I don’t work at the stalls though,” he answers. “I��ve just been here a few times.”

“You’re trying to learn, aren’t you?” Ryujin asks, raising an eyebrow.

He nods. However, you furrow your eyebrows at her. How does she know? Eyes widening, you realize it must be the school forum. You remember reading a post about a student wanting to learn skateboarding and the wording felt familiar but you didn’t think much. How they figured it out, you will never know.

“Oh! Oh, I think my nose is bleeding. Oh god.” Yuna sniffs vehemently, her finger at her nose. “I think I’m going to need Ryujin to get me to a clinic.” 

Linking her arm through Ryujin’s, Yuna makes an apologetic expression and runs off into a particularly crowded area.

You blink. The realization dawns. 

"They just left me," you tell him, exasperated. "How could they just leave me?"

He shrugs. "My team left me at a rival school's field once."

Great. Your last outing before midterms and your friends have abandoned you. If this is the case, you wonder why they complain about you spending so much time with Sungchan and allegedly ignoring them.

You regain a sense of your surroundings and turn to him. "Wait. They really left you?"

He nods diligently, eyes trained upwards as he tries to recall the memory. "I told you, didn’t I? On the plus side though, I made friends with the opposite team."

"That's so… cute."

Your cheeks heat up at saying it out loud. If Sungchan is affected by it in any way, he doesn't show it. Instead, he has his usual smile on. 

“Do you wanna try?” he asks. “Skateboarding. Or rollerblading but I personally don’t recommend that.”

He curls his lips, shaking his head slightly. You laugh. Of course this beanpole has trouble balancing on skates.

"I- I figured you'd be good at skateboarding. Since, you know, you're so balanced and all."

You raise an eyebrow. "You wanna add skateboarding to your resume or something?"

"Yeah, that and the ability to imitate dog sounds. Wanna see?"

"No, thanks. I’ll pray this weekend to cure your furry behaviour."

Before he can respond, you’re interrupted by a whirlwind of colours and excited calls. A few girls run up to the two of you, younger and probably in middle school, flocking to Sungchan like bees to honey. Never in your life have you felt so ignored as in this singular moment.

You blink, turning to Sungchan who looks like a rather helpless, flustered eye of the hurricane. The winds don't seem to be stopping any time soon.

You clear your throat trying to get their attention. 

"Wow, you brought your girlfriend?" One of the girls exclaims, sounding disappointed.

The other girls make similar whines of disappointment and you have half the heart to whack them over the head and tell them to focus on their academics instead of boys. 

"You're so lucky to have him as your boyfriend," a girl comments, round eyes brimming with jealousy. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you declare sharply.

Sungchan looks at you with his doe eyes, blinking cartoonishly. You nudge him with your elbow.

“Yeah!” He agrees, with far too much gusto to be believable. “I’m not (name)’s boyfriend. I have no idea why everyone keeps saying that.”

“Let’s go, babe,” you say, resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at the girls. They’re younger than you and you have high school dignity, you remind yourself.

Slipping your hand into his, you take a few long strides away from them before you realize what you said.

“I- I did- I didn’t mean to call you babe,” you sputter, pulling your hand from his to look at him with wide eyes. 

“It’s okay though?”

Sungchan raises an eyebrow and slips his hand back into yours, smiling. 

“I don’t mind the rumours, you know?” He says honestly but his smile feels all too teasing. “Maybe we should go out for real.”

You huff, separating yourself from him again. “Maybe you just love attention. Disgusting.”

You point an accusatory finger at him and he bites at it playfully.

“While you're here, wanna see a cool trick I learned?" He straightens only having to tilt his head to look at you.

"If it's you falling on your face, then yes."

"I mean, hey, I could totally do that. Done that several times actually."

You smile despite trying your hardest not to. You like this about him—that he’s easygoing enough to make you look at life less seriously. If it’s with him, you could quit everything that makes you unhappy and start everything you love. 

“So where is your skateboard?” you ask, walking side by side with him, who has finally learned to match your pace.

“It’s with one of my friends,” he answers, and points to a tall girl with long brown hair, wearing a pair of tomboyish shorts and T-shirt. Another girl with short hair and a bucket hat accompanies her, wearing a long hoodie and shorts, but she leaves before you reach them. They must be from a different school because you’ve never seen them before. The first thing that pops into your head is that they’d be good replacements for your cheerleading position if you were ever to leave. You shake your head. Now is not the time.

“That’s Jimin!” he introduces, and you wonder how he’s this way—how he makes friends so easily.

Jimin waves at Sungchan and then proceeds to ask if you’re his girlfriend with a big smile, like a script being followed everywhere you go.

She seems a little disappointed at the answer. “Well, I was going to suggest one of the couples skateboards.”

You flash her an awkward smile. 

“But those are pretty difficult! I’ve been here for a month and my idea of skateboarding is still sitting on it while Soeun pushes me around. That’s my friend, by the way.”

“Ah.” You nod. “This is my first time skateboarding, actually. The only ‘sport’ I’ve ever done is cheerleading.”

Jimin furrows her eyebrows before her eyes widen. “Wait a minute. You’re the cheerleader best friend that Sungchan wouldn’t shut up about!”

Sungchan flusters, in the subtle way he usually does, and waves his hands robotically trying to explain. “I was just saying- that- that you’d be good at skateboarding. Because of the cheerleading.”

A boxy grin accompanies his explanation. 

“Right.” Jimin covers her face and sends an obvious wink your way. “Anyway, you can have my skateboard for the day.”

She hands over a smooth black skateboard with white wheels, but on closer inspection you find that they’re light-up wheels instead. It’s oddly fitting for someone like Jimin even if you’ve known her the entirety of ten minutes. Sungchan is good at finding friends, rather. Soon enough, she runs off after making Sungchan promise he’ll deliver the skateboard home.

The trick Sungchan wanted to show you was a failed kickflip. At the very least, it made you laugh so hard you almost spit out the strawberry milk he’d bought you. Sipping his own banana milk, he sulked for a moment or two, telling you to try it out and see how difficult it is.

On the contrary, Sungchan was right. You are good at balancing on skateboards. But that’s where it ends. You don’t think you’ll be naturally good at kickflips, though being able to glide through the plaza while Sungchan runs after you with the drinks puts a big smile on your face. It’s the most fun you’ve had in a while.  

Accompanied by Sungchan’s panicked “oh no”s and “oh we messed up”s, the two of you try the couple skateboarding move too; no one’s watching you here. It’s fun to see him stress over a skateboard because frankly, you’ve never met anyone as easy-going as Sungchan. (“I’ll figure it out along the way,” he says when you ask if he’s studying for finals, and proceeds to get a decent enough score). Suddenly the wandering gap is closed again. You’re not going to worry about stupid rumours from now on. 

But for some reason, ‘you like him as a friend’ doesn’t sound right either. Despite having said it so many times, you might not believe in it. You shake off the thought. This evening, at least, you’re going to enjoy with Sungchan without thinking of teenage drama and hormones. 

"You still don't think you and Sungchan make the perfect pair?" Yuna pouts. 

You narrow your eyes. "I don't take opinions from traitors."

Chaeryoung leans back on her chair, and whispers to you asking if you’re okay. At least someone is concerned about you.

“It hurts to be left by my own friends but—”

“No, I meant, are you okay? Why aren’t you dating Sungchan already? You’re so cute together! And you’re best friends—Netflix writers literally daydream of this.”

You groan, throwing up your hands in defeat.

“And,” Yuna adds, knocking her chair closer. “Who’s really the traitor here? Us who ditched you with the love of your life—or you, who runs off every time she gets a call from her boyfriend?”

“Sungchan is not my boyfriend.” You cross your arms.

“She even shares her lunch with him more,” Ryujin complains from the side. “And they’re not even in the same class. Unlike me, by the way. Class 1 Shin Ryujin. Same class as you, (name).”

You slump, resting your forehead against the desk. At this point, you wish the teacher would walk in and start the class already. Unfortunately, lunch break isn’t over for another ten minutes and lady luck clearly isn’t smiling upon you. 

“Speak of the devil!” Ryujin announces monotonously, leaning against her desk.

Sungchan and a few of his friends from the soccer team wave at you and the girls from the classroom door. Noticing Taehyun, Yuna quickly fixes her hair and you would tease her if Sungchan hadn’t casually strolled up to your desk and sat down on the chair in front of you. Long legs barely contained in the space, he adjusts himself by resting his arm on the headrest and his chin upon it. It’s all normal. However, when he leans down to match your eye level, you hear the sudden pit-a-pat of your pulse in your ear. At this proximity, you can even see the mole on his lip that he’s pointed out before. The sunlight from the open windows is pulling golden strings over his eyelashes and his lips aren’t dry as a desert like you expected. You know he uses the watermelon flavoured lip balm. 

“Too close,” you croak. Embarrassed at your own voice, you rise sharply and glare at him.

“Is your heart fluttering?” Sungchan asks, smiling as he looks up at you.

You roll your eyes. 

You can hear Yuna’s giggling and before you can shoot her a glare, Sungchan calls. 

"Do you have any bandaids?" 

He points to a rough scratch at the base of his palm, fingers slender and less calloused than what you'd pictured. Then again, soccer players don't use their hands much, do they?

You blink. "You came all the way here for bandaids?"

"Well… I remembered you keep band-aids in your phone case. And the nurse hates me."

You giggle.

Yujin mouths from behind Sungchan, “He just wanted to see her.” 

You would feel flattered if you didn't know these people and their shenanigans. They'd do anything for some drama (and to get two innocent people into the dating trap).

“Why would I waste my cute band aids on you?” you mutter under your breath. “They’re limited edition, you know?”

No way are you sticking Ice Bear on your urban hazard of a best friend. A tall, cute, surprisingly polite hazard but he still annoys you nonetheless.

However, Sungchan's pleading smile has grown on you.

You reluctantly take the band-aid out of your clear phone case, the pink panda doll attached to it swaying with the movement. Proceeding, you take Sungchan's hand and lay it on your desk. With careful focus, you place the band-aid, admiring the size difference of your hands before snapping to reality.

Enough with the pink cloud of thoughts, you scold yourself.

When you look up, the proximity makes your heart skip a beat despite the logical part of you saying you shouldn't. Your faces are too close and this time, you don't even have the energy to croak it out.

"Thanks, (name)," Sungchan smiles at you. 

Right then, the sound of a chair sliding harshly against the floor makes the two of you jolt away from each other. All of your friends and his friends seem to be sporting Cheshire cat grins and you don't like it one bit. You don't like not being in on the gag.

"Anybody up for gaming after this? My treat." Chenle looks around. “Sungchan is banned from the arcade soccer game though.”

"'Ey," Sungchan complains.

"Hey, Jisung and Ryujin are banned from DDR too but that's because they almost broke the handles off last time."

The memory makes you smile. Sungchan was there too, and you don’t know why you’re only just recalling all the memories with him in it, carefully and in detail. Every one of them seems to have been amplified, the little interactions suddenly coming to mind. 

“(name)? You’re coming?”

You take one look at Sungchan and give up. Even if this is another childish ploy by your peers, you don't mind spending some more time at the arcade with infuriatingly addictive games. A tiny part of you is even willing to go along with them and see if it turns out the way they want it to.

“I’ll go,” you mumble, and the rest of the group cheers. 

“But I have cleaning duty today.”

The group groans. 

“Just get someone else to do it. Like a junior.”

“Isn’t that bullying?” You ask, frowning.

“Ask nicely. Anyone would be willing to do your bidding, (name).”

“Chenle, will you do it?” You give him a sickly sweet smile. “You’re class president after all.”

Chenle wrinkles his nose. “You’re getting stupider every day, (name).”

You sigh. “Fine. I’ll ask one of Yuna’s classmates then.”

“By the way,” Chenle announces. “Only twelfth graders are invited—”

A bunch of groans interrupt him. 

“Quit whining.” He crosses his arms, glaring at them. “What do you even have to worry about? We’re preparing for the exam of our lives. Oh, and Jisung is an exception.”

“We’re only two years apart,” Yuna mutters under her breath.

“Oh, and from class 5, only Sungchan is invited.”

Another round of complaints pass and Chenle breaks into laughter. “Just kidding.”

Your friends are and will always be an odd bunch. Sungchan has previously proved to be the weirdest (several times) and it makes him the most lovable too. But then again, you don’t have free space in your timetable to put in teenage crushes, much less falling for your best friend. What you do have time for this afternoon, however, is relaxing at the arcade. 

-

“Let’s go! I am so good at this. Think I’d impress your Steve Curry?” Ryujun gloats, after having scored three hoops in a row at the arcade basketball game.

“It’s Stephen Curry,” Chenle corrects. “And no, let’s focus here. Our goals are—”

He points to the two figures by the DDR machine, looking like a real couple. He’s been acting as damage control for the rumours and making sure you don’t drift apart because of it. They really don’t make guys like him anymore, Chenle sighs. He should get a friendship award or something.

“—those two.”

Really, Sungchan better be thanking him by the end of this. He’s never met anyone quite like Jung Sungchan, especially because Chenle cannot picture himself liking the same person since elementary school.

“Man, now I wish I had a girlfriend,” Chenle mutters.

Ryujin snorts. “Who’s going to date you?”

“You don’t have a boyfriend either,” Chenle reminds and gets a basketball to the shoulder.

“Why are you playing that when you don’t even know how to use it?” Your voice rings through to them.

“I said I’ll figure it out!” Sungchan reasons.

Chenle and Ryujin stare at the two of you blankly, as you bicker over a claw machine game and they share a look.

“Do they need our help?” Ryujin whispers.

Chenle shakes his head. “I think they’ll figure it out from here.”

Soon enough, you were laughing at Sungchan’s failed attempts and trying to outplay him. Your friends have already given you the shove. Chenle and Ryujin share a high five and that’s where the new story begins.

You finally know the thrill of a teenage crush. It makes you so damn infuriated that it had to be Jung Sungchan. 

Now every time he waves at you from the field or hands you a bottle of strawberry milk or explains the calc notes you missed or does the bare minimum, you need to deal with the quickening of your pulse and a few butterflies loose from their cage in your stomach. It doesn’t help that you’re almost always together.

The two of you currently sit by the school field, Sungchan tying his shoelaces while you cool off with the water bottle he offered you. Practice ended a while ago for you and the girls have receded into the air conditioned indoor gym. The indoor gym is apparently occupied by the gymnast club and you couldn’t be more disappointed that you didn’t join them instead. 

If anything, however, you’d rather leave this whole thing and focus on your academics. Hobbies shouldn’t be draining you—they should feel like skateboarding on a lilac evening with the wind in your hair.

With a friend you like very, very much.

“Sungchan,” you call quietly. 

“Hm?” 

When he looks up, you can’t hold in the urge to fix the hair out of his eyes. You’ve never been very physically affectionate so it might have come off strange. Sungchan looks at you quietly, stars in his eyes and you clear your throat.

“How long have you been playing soccer? It was before we met, right?”

He hums, eyes traveling up and then back to you when he remembers. “Since I was six. You were there at my first soccer match actually.”

“I was? Oh my god, was it the one you lost horribly and the whole team started crying?”

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

You giggle. “Six year old you would be so in awe now.”

Sungchan beams at that. 

“Who knows?” he smiles, looking into your eyes with firm determination. “Maybe I’ll be the next Son Heungmin.”

“Even I know who that is so… no.”

Sungchan pouts and you make a face in disgust. “Don’t act cute, it gives me hives.”

“Okay, maybe not Son Heungmin. I could definitely be the next Park Jisung—and I don’t mean him.”

Sungchan points to a boy passed out on the benches, his exhaustion typical of any high schooler while another boy sits beside him, fanning him with a bunch of assignment papers. Jisung and Chenle really are more entertaining than any game on this field. 

You turn to look at Sungchan, who’s moving his head around trying to catch their attention. When he finally does, he waves at them and gets big grins in response. He’s not all that bad, you think. In fact, he’s quite possibly the most amiable boy in senior year.

“Just be Jung Sungchan,” you mutter. “Not Son Heungmin or Park Jisung.”

Sungchan turns to you, smiling wide. “Advice taken.”

You scoff. “Whatever.”

Maybe it’s just you but Sungchan has been glancing at your lips very frequently today and mentally thank Chaeryoung for letting you borrow her lip tint. You didn’t know something so subtle could get you this giddy.

“Are you… going to give the CSAT?” You ask, glancing at him nervously. Part of you is sad you only developed your first high school crush in the very last semester. Or if it’s comforting, you could believe you’ve liked him all this time.

“Nah. Sports scholarship,” he says nonchalantly. “I was going to tell you but… I’ve been scouted already.”

You gasp. “That’s… great. Your future’s all settled.”

Sungchan seems to dislike the idea, lips pursing. “I don’t think anything’s settled except for the next step.”

You nod, somewhat understanding. 

“What about you?” He asks. “Any university in mind? SKY? I’ve seen you study extra hours at the library.”

You look away, not feeling ready for the conversation.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. “I don’t know what I like and what I want. I don’t even like cheer anymore.”

Sungchan gazes at you wordlessly but it’s the most comfortable you’ve felt talking about this.

“Maybe I should quit,” you mumble.

You don’t want to commit to something you no longer have passion for. But then again, you’ve spent so much time on it that it’s hard to leave. 

“You should,” he responds, honest. 

You scoff, shaking yourself from that moment of vulnerability. “But why would I quit something I’m good at?”

“If you don’t like it. If it hurts to leave but isn’t any better when you stay, you should leave.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re quite the philosopher.”

“I’m smart, right?”

You smile. 

“Oy, you two!” Chenle calls, making his way to you two with Jisung trailing behind. “I don’t mean to interrupt your flirting but you got a spare water bottle?”

“Are you two going out now?” Jisung asks as a follow-up, and you feel a hot flush for some reason, unlike the previous times you’ve been asked this question.

“No,” you answer. You don’t mind the idea though now.

“Don’t lie,” Chenle complains. “I saw that picture of Sungchan teaching you how to kick a ball. You? And soccer? Something’s up.”

You throw up your hands in exasperation. “Seriously, who keeps up posting to the school page? And where do they get the time?”

"Two people with this much compatibility will always be a hot topic."

"We're not compatible," you retort quickly.

"Wait," Jisung says. "I know how to resolve this."

You raise an eyebrow.

"How do you have your cereal?" He asks, looking from you to Sungchan.

"Cereal first, obviously," you answer.

Sungchan looks up, finger below his chin as he thinks. "I drink the milk first, then eat the cereal and then breakdance to mix it all together."

You pinch your nose. "I swear I question your sanity all the time."

"Hah! That means you're thinking about me all the time."

You look away, rolling your eyes. He responds with an open-mouthed smile and finger guns.

"See?" Jisung grins. "Compatible."

The gruff voice of Coach Lee startles the four of you and Sungchan leaves with a sigh and a promise of meeting after practice. Jisung leaves with Sungchan and Chenle gives you one last teasing smirk before sitting down and going through the assignment papers he was using as a fan previously. You will never understand his miraculous ways of performing his presidential duties.

You don’t have a good feeling about the next match. The only reason you’re even sticking around anymore—as embarrassing as it—is to spend more time with Sungchan. Being with him puts you at ease, even if the school tries to wrap the two of you in a rope of uneasiness. This is your very last practice, for the next match is the final one of this year and then you’ll be back to spending even longer hours at the library with a stack of textbooks. It’s supposed to be a carefree age. At least, adults say that. Your high school life seems to be riddled with worries, and with that thought, you head into the air conditioned room to take a breather off your anxieties. 

Only one more match, you remind yourself. 

The pre-match buzz is driving you to the edge.

Your form is off, you can feel it already and Coach Kim isn’t as sunshine-as-rainbows as she usually is, courtesy to it being the last match of your life. She’ll never know though, how much you don’t want to do this. 

Sungchan waves at you as he usually does before a match, disappointing a third of his fangirls, but it helps you ease. One last time, (name).

Watching the crowd of people, parents and siblings and friends, all excited and talking makes you take a deep breath. You practiced but it wasn’t good enough. You can never do well at something you don’t like anymore. This time, you feel guilty for committing to things half-heartedly. You want to start that fresh new college chapter already, with all of this behind.

There’s ten minutes left. You go back to the empty hall outside the lockers only to pace. This isn’t helping.

“(name)!”

You turn around abruptly to find Sungchan’s tall figure, and you must be looking miserable because his smile falls.

He doesn’t even ask what’s wrong, only takes careful steps towards you. “Do you need water? Medicine?”

His hands hover over your shoulder but he doesn’t burden you with them. You put your face in your palms and sigh, sinking down to the floor in a crouch.

“I want to quit,” you whisper. Your voice comes off more brittle than you’d like, and you realize that Sungchan hasn’t seen you cry since seventh grade when you failed a math test. You didn’t tell him then but you appreciated him studying extra hours for math just to teach you.

“You don’t have to go out there if you don’t want to,” he says quietly, dropping to the floor beside you. “I’ll stay with you.”

You stare at him dumbfounded. “Don’t be ridiculous! They’ll lose without you—you’re the ace, Sungchan!”

“There will always be an ace,” he retorts. “Maybe Jisung will finally get to shine. Or anyone else. I don’t mind spending an hour with you alone.”

You feel a hot flush spread over your cheeks. Looking away to the side, you mumble an ‘alright’ and only glance from the corner of your eye to see him smiling. Jung Sungchan is the most unreasonable boy you’ve ever met. Perhaps it makes him somewhat loveable too.

“It’s your last match,” you whisper helplessly.

“I’ll join the college soccer club and get to play more matches.”

You sigh, giving in. If he’s so adamant, you think that perhaps there is something in you worth sacrificing his game over. It makes an oddly warm feeling bloom in your chest. Sungchan is so damn convincing with his words. You wonder if it’s really okay.

With shoulders touching, an awkward silence takes over in the next second. You turn to him and open your mouth, watch him do the same and close it at the same time he does.

“You know,” he begins, “I was kind of lying about not worrying because I get the feeling coach will evaporate me tomorrow but—I can handle it. Mostly.”

You stare at him with wide, worried eyes. “You don’t have to do this, Sungchan. I’m the one running away.”

You slouch, pulling your knees closer to your chest and burying your face in them. The urge to scream is boiling within you but you can’t get caught. Not now.

“Sometimes to run is the brave thing,” he responds, insightful. “If you’re not up for it, it’s better to quit early than to regret it in the long run.”

You don’t know if it’s the fact that he just quoted Taylor Swift or spoke like your old school counselor—but you find yourself laughing. He makes sense. Sungchan, in his weird, oddball ways, always makes sense. And in that same way, he feels like home.

“You’re so good to me,” you say, looking up at him and at a proximity you’ve never been before.

It’s his turn to fluster, though he doesn’t do so as visibly as you do. He clears his throat, shifting his eyes around before meeting yours. “I- This is bad timing but… I like you. I really do. Since third grade when you drew that birthday card for me. I have it in my bedside drawer, by the way.”

He looks away and makes a face, probably wondering why he said that out loud.

You press your lips tight to prevent the smile that tugs at them. He looks at you with a wobbly smile, trying his hardest to resume his usual dignity—but he’s just a boy, after all. 

“My type is dumb and pretty, though?” You tease, the smile escaping. “You said it yourself.”

He blinks. “Well, I am pretty but if you want me to be stu—”

You shake your head. “I like you too. You don’t have to act cute.”

He pauses, thinking. “I have never acted cute in my life ever. I was born cu—”

You hold his face between your thumb and forefinger. “You do that again and you die.”

He breaks into a smile. 

“I’ve never met someone quite like you,” you whisper, embarrassed of your own feelings bubbling up from the bottle you had kept them in.

He laughs, open-mouthed and pretty. 

“Actually, hey, I didn’t like you all this time from fifth. I liked you and then I didn’t like you and then I liked you again—”

“Okay, I get it.”

His shoulders relax and he smiles at you. You look up at the clock on the wall by the entrance to the field and bite your lip. You don’t love performing anymore but you know all the girls do, even the stand-bys. Jisung might not have to take over Sungchan’s position but you bet one of those tenth graders would love to take yours, the same way you did back then. They’ve practiced harder than you too and it’s only a matter of deserving.

You take a deep breath and get up, pulling up Sungchan by the hand. He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive eyes scanning over your face and you smile at him, strengthening your resolve. You should have done this way sooner.

-

Sungchan plays. You don’t let him sit it out with you. 

Halfway through, you cheer the hardest you ever have, plastic decorative gemstones stuck by your eyes borrowed from the other girls cheering. It’s much more fun, you think. You’ve never experienced soccer like this. You’d love to sit at stadiums and join in victory chants. There’s enough weight off your chest to yell your lungs out.

Sungchan scores a goal almost immediately after and sends a thumbs up over to you. You laugh. This is the best break you’ve ever taken from cheerleading. 

“Ooh, is this perhaps the (name) effect?” Chenle’s voice rings through the speakers and you feel yourself shrink slightly under the eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your homeroom teacher signal very angrily to the commentator box. You shake yourself off it. So what if everyone’s looking?

Sungchan places his hands on his hips, chest heaving and sends another signal to you before beelining for a straight goal. You whoop and the girl with a notebook beside you is visibly annoyed at this point but you don’t care. 

Without doubt, your school wins and you watch as Sungchan runs to his team, a big smile on his face. The second he’s done getting pet by the team, however, he rushes to the bleachers, skipping over the steps to you, panting when he stops. The risk he took was definitely not calculated. He holds up one finger while he heaves.

“My cheering worked best this time, it seems,” you say to him, laughing.

His face is flushed from the exertion but he laughs heartily. “You could be yelling profanity at me and it’d still encourage me.”

You shake your head at the cheesy line. He takes a step forward, well inside your space but you don’t mind. He leans in.

“Everyone is looking at us,” he says under his breath. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

You look behind him to find the whole team, along with your girls sharing furtive glances and giggling at the sight of the two of you. A few of the junior girls slap each other’s arms, bouncing on the balls of their feet in excitement. You’re not a celebrity. But everyone wants to cheer things on once in a while, don’t they?

“Good,” you answer, before pulling him by the shirt into a chaste kiss. When you pull apart, Sungchan’s face is so struck with awe that you want to look away but instead you bite back an obvious smile. It’s about damn time, someone from the soccer team yells.

“Woah. I think I scored a goal either way,” he says, an offbeat smile on his face.

“Oh come on, we didn’t even get to chant ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ yet—oh shit, the mic’s on.”

Chenle is definitely getting an earful from your teacher after this. The two of you wave at him at the box and end up laughing at him trying to hide behind the desk. 

As expected, the whole crowd surrounds the two of you in less than a minute’s worth of time, with several congratulations and “good score” offered to the two of you. The boys mess up Sungchan’s hair while the girls compliment you on how cute a couple you are. There’s also the question of when you started dating that pauses the buzz and makes everyone look to the two of you for an answer. Sungchan turns to you and you turn to him, and there’s no way you’ll tell half the school that your confession came in a private hallway outside the field—teenage imaginations run wild. 

Instead, you slip your hand into Sungchan’s and run down the bleachers and towards the exit, laughter spilling from your lips. There’s only one place you can think of going to spend a cool blue late afternoon with.

“Skate plaza?” He asks.

“Skate plaza,” you answer.

[reids-rendering-reality]

Guys My Age

Summary: Y/N is the newest addition to the BAU team and Spencer appears to have taken a special liking towards her. The only problem is, he thinks he’s too old for her. However, that’s all about to change when they share a hotel room.

(A/N: I’m such a sucker for the hotel room trope so I combined it with two of my other favourite ideas: Spencer being older than the reader and catching her doing yoga)

Type: fluff + a sexual innuendo or two

Warnings: dirty thoughts, insecurity about age, age gap, anxiety, yoga?

Word Count: 2.1K

Spencer Reid’s POV

I pulled the handle of my satchel over my shoulder as I sighed. It was a very long day in a small rural town somewhere deep in Alabama. Everyone else had gone back to their hotel room, besides Hotch and I. There was just something about this case I couldn’t get out of my mind. The feeling of being so close to the final piece of the puzzle, as if it were on the tip of my tongue but I couldn’t grip it. Yet I had to let it go for the night and get some rest. The much needed REM sleep could give me an entirely new perspective on this problem to me tomorrow. At least that’s what I hoped.

On the walk to the hotel room I was getting increasingly nervous, the more rooms I passed in the hallway. This small hotel did not have enough rooms to accommodate the whole team separately. They only had four rooms for the seven of us. JJ and Emily had immediately paired up, just like Rossi and Morgan. And Hotch being the team leader took the single room. Leaving me with our newest and youngest member, Y/N.

It’s not like I didn’t like her. That’s not what it was at all. Just, she made me a little bit nervous. She was so beautiful that sometimes I couldn’t get out any words around her. And that says a lot because I always have something to say. But as cheesy as it sounds, in some moments there is not a single fact that I can recall. 

But the elephant in the room demands to be heard. She is younger than I am. And that by a lot. By exactly ten years and three months. That appears to be a lot. I don’t really know why, but that bothers me. We are both adults, but because of social conventions at our age, I feel as though it is inappropriate. Yet if I were 60 and she were 50 or I was 80 and she was 70, no one would even blink at the gap. Yet because we are young it matters. I feel sad when I think about it because I like her a lot. And when we talk I don’t notice the age gap. In fact, I’d even go so far as to say that it wasn’t even there at all.

What surprised me as I was having these thoughts and neared the room was the fact that I actually considered asking her out. Since Maeve I have not been on a single date. And who said she would even be interested in anything beyond a casual friendship or even colleagueship with me? That’s not even considering the amount of courage it would require for me to tell her. But it’s not like that would be a fruitful endeavour.

And that was the last thought I had before I reached the door to room 179. A prime number. Prime numbers would be my lucky numbers if there were such a thing.

As I rummaged around my pockets and satchel for the key card I noticed the sound of music coming through the door.

“Gotta thank him he’s the reason

That I’ll find what I’m looking for.”

I heard a woman sing over the sound of an electric guitar. I still hadn’t found my key card.

“Guys my age don't know how to treat me

Don't know how to treat me.”

My movements stopped when my brain registered the lyrics. Guys my age…?

“Guys my age don't know how to touch me

Don't know how to love me good.”

My breath hitched and I gulped, key card in hand. Did she mean that? Could it be possible that she would be interested in someone ten years older than her? The feeling of hope was beginning to form in my brain, scenarios of what could be clouding my vision. But they were quickly pushed aside by a dark storm of self-doubt. Because most people don’t listen to lyrics as closely. The lyrics to a song don’t mean anything to them. Did they mean anything to her?

I realised I had been standing in front of the door for way too long and gathered all my confidence to go inside. But nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see. After closing the door behind me and tucking away the key card into my bag I turned around for the first time.

There she was. In the middle of the room in front of the two twin beds on a yoga mat. Her front leg was bent as she stretched her back. She was only dressed in skin tight pants and a matching bra that complimented the way her body was contorted. The soft light from the night lamp next to one of the beds made her skin glisten just noticeably as if it were glowing. I could feel my eyes widen as I my brain finally added up the pieces of what I was seeing.

“Oh, hi Spence!” she said gleefully turning her head towards mine, “I was feeling a little tense after sitting in that conference room all day. I hope you don’t mind.”

I didn’t even bother to attempt to talk, I could feel how dry my throat was and how my lips would not listen to any command I would’ve given it. So I just shook my head and pulled my eyes away from her as she moved her upper body towards the floor, holding herself up by her ellbows. I walked towards the beds in her general direction trying not to notice how gorgeous her ass looked now that her body was turned away from me. That I even had that thought surprised me and caused a blush to rise to my cheeks. I was thankful that she couldn’t see my face in that moment as I loosened up my tie. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, my attention drifted back to the song.

“Don't know how to love me good

So I'm never going back”

There was nothing in that moment that could keep me sane. My wildest dreams could have not come up with this scenario. It felt utterly unreal.

As the song ended I saw her change positions again from my peripheral vision.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” she said while turning the music down.

I noticed panic begin to fill my brain. She wanted to have a conversation.

“I um- it’s been kind of a long day,” I said and cleared my throat, while deciding whether or not it would be a good idea to turn around towards her.

“Have you been at the station the whole time? You must be exhausted,” she responded and continued when I didn’t answer, “I thought you could show me that show you’ve been gushing about.”

How was this real life? My brain began to lose control of my executive functions as my body turned around to face her. She was now sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of her, her hands wrapped around her feet as she looked up at me. The low-cut top she was wearing gave me a perfect sight into the curves of her-

I dared not continue that line of thought, already flustered enough as it is.

“Really? You’d be interested in watching that?” I said and blinked.

Her lips spread into a smile, twinkling her eyes, “Yeah, of course. The way you described it makes me really curious.”

“We could watch an episode or two before going to sleep, if you want.”

I just had to take this chance. Even if I could only begin to have a friendship with her, I wanted to be close to her because for some odd reason, I couldn’t bear to admire her from afar.

So not long after, I was setting up the odd hotel room tv to watch the show. It took me the entirety of her taking a shower so that I was only standing back up when she was walking out of the small bathroom in a white bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her head. She smiled up at me as she walked past me, her hand brushing my arm so casually that I questioned whether it actually happened. 

I hesitated again before sitting down on the bed. Was she going to get dressed in front of me? Because no matter how much my amygdala wanted me to see that, my frontal cortex wasn’t going to allow it. I forced myself to look through my satchel in an attempt to find a distraction as I waited for her next move. But luckily, she didn’t tempt my brain too much into overdrive.

I felt as if there was a higher power not willing to spare me for the night when she came out of the bathroom a second time, now something someone might call dressed. She was in a loose light coloured satin pyjama set that showed off her legs perfectly. And as if that were not enough to torture me for the night, she joined me on my twin bed with her bag of chips.

“I hope that’s okay with you, then we can share snacks,” she said so innocently that I almost believed it. But I could still hear the song ringing in my ears and I noticed her eyes take a short glance down at my lips as she said it. I was almost convinced that I wasn’t imagining things.

What really sealed the deal was that I noticed her scoot a tiny bit closer to me every once in a while. At first I could only feel the warmth she radiated, but after about 30 minutes I felt the bare skin of her arm against mine. My breath quickened, which I was sure she had noticed.

I knew the episode off by heart. Which was to my advantage because then my brain could run in a speed that I could barely follow. I tried my hardest to calm down a little bit, which was hard when I could feel the movement of her body as a whole-hearted laugh filled her throat.

“Y/N,” I whispered with all my courage. It was so low that I almost thought she wouldn’t hear it, but she turned her head towards me her eyes following a few seconds after.

Her eyes met mine and it was like I could feel my neurons firing electrical signals throughout my entire body. And just like that, in one swift movement she had grabbed my face by the back of my head and pulled me into her lips.

That was the first time that night that my muscles began to relax as I eased into the sensation of her soft lips moving against mine. It was as though I was beginning to lose myself in the kiss, all insecurities about her feelings towards me or my inexperience gone.

When she ultimately pulled away and rested her forehead against mine, we were both panting gently. My whole body felt warm with the feeling of her breath on my skin and her hands still in my hair. I didn’t dare open my eyes, still afraid that I would wake up from this idyllical dream.

We both didn’t know what to say as we pulled away further and looked at each other. I wanted to say something, to let her know how I felt, but once again, my brain did not follow my commands.

“Did you know when you kiss someone for the first time it causes your dopamine levels to increase for a short period of time? It also makes your heart rate and the oxygen supply to your brain to raise,” I heard my voice say in something between a whisper and my normal talking voice.

“For the first time, huh?” she grinned a little at me.

I reached for her hand and gently took it in mine. I moved her palm over my shirt to the centre of my chest. I could feel my heart race through her hands and I know she could feel it too. She looked up into my eyes again with a look on her face that told me all I needed to know.

[shurisneakers]

harmless (v)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, ghosts, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, rats

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: why did i like this chapter sm someone explain. anyway!! y’all are so passionate about these two i love it mwah

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He dislikes the subway. 

Other than his other valid reason to have disdain for trains, the subway is dark, it’s shady and he’s sure he’s seen rodents fight to the death here on several occasions.  

Still, he’s following you down the stairs of the station, watching as you whistle along to the song blasting through your headphones. There’s a backpack swung over your shoulders, hands stuffed into the pocket of your hoodie and converse doing a skip every now and then. There’s a bandana that’s tied across your face, acting as a mask to hide your identity. 

He realises that you’re dressed like a commuter. Were you going to dress the part every single time?

You walk along with the crowd. He follows, a few feet away.

Until you stop. He abruptly stops too, leading someone to walk right into him. 

“Watch it, dumbass,” they hiss with the courage of someone who has no idea who he is. He ignores them. 

He looks on as you dig around your backpack and pull out a roll of paper. A poster, he realises soon when you peel off a layer from the back and press it to the wall. 

Was it legal to put up posters in the subway? He wasn’t quite sure. 

He observes as you turn around and continue down the path. He waits a few seconds before trailing up to the poster.

Volunteers needed!

If you’re interested in being turned into a ghost for a couple of hours, this is your chance! Should be okay with being on camera so that we can make money off of taped paranormal sightings.

Paid opportunity. You get to pick your outfit. Randos don’t apply.

He yanks the poster of the wall before continuing down the same place you did.

He finds another poster along the way. He doesn’t hesitate in pulling it down. You were advocating to kill people. 

He knows he’s going in the right direction because more posters creep up along the wall.

The both of you are on the platform by now but to him, something changes about the placement of the posters. They were growing in frequency, the distance between them decreasing as they were situated close to each other.

He pauses in front of the next one, hand hovering over the paper.

All it reads is ‘STOP’.

He furrows his eyebrow, pulling it down before peering over at the next one.

‘TAKING’, is all that it says.

It doesn’t take him very long to make his way through all the posters in the hallway. 

‘THESE’

‘DOWN’

The train’s arrived by now but a quick scan over the crowd and he knows that you haven’t entered. That, and he knew that you were too dramatic to leave without a trace or a small conversation with him. 

‘DICKHEAD’

Tasteful, he thinks. 

“It took effort to make them, stop ruining it,” you whine from the end of the hallway. It’s empty, given that rush hour was over a while ago. 

Even though the mask covers half your face, it’s obvious that there is mischief etched under it. The twinkle in your eye is telling. 

“You’re literally killing people.” He holds up the poster. Not the ‘dickhead’ one. He pockets that for later. 

He knows there are a few minutes before the next train arrives and more people flood the station. The eccentricity of today lay in the lighting from the incandescent lamps and acoustics of the platform. It made his voice echo like a movie scene. 

“I very much am not,” you huff. 

“You’re turning them into ghosts. That’s what a murderer does,” he says pointedly. 

“Well, only if you keep saying it like that. You’re making me look bad.” You cross your arms across your chest. “What are you, Fox News?” 

A scurry next to him earns his attention. Two rats nibble at a piece of fallen food. He wonders when they’ll starting brawling. 

“Explain this.” He waves the poster around. He isn’t taking it too lightly he hopes. If it’s actual murder then it’s going to be an issue. 

You pull out a black cylinder, slightly bigger than a pen. He can’t really see any more details, but you hold onto it like a wand. 

“I’m turning them into ghosts. I’ll post videos of them doing stupid shit. I get famous and then boom, cash money.” You rub your index finger and thumb together. “I’ll give you a share if you volunteer.”

“You’re not explaining the death part.” 

He can feel it. You’re about to start derailing. 

“Winter Soldier, the ghost story. Literally.” You grin, yanking down the mask from your face to prove it. It pools around your neck. “That’s so funny, c’mon, it’d be amazing.”

It’s been years since he’s heard that. Never in this context. 

“No,” he says sternly, “and I’m going to have to bring you in if you’re going to kill people.”

The rats were ignoring everything that was going down like the hardened criminals that they were. They had probably seen worse. He can’t stop paying attention to them.

“I’m not killing them, bro.” You raise your hands in exclamation. “I’m just moving some molecules around, some frequency shit. They’re alive, just ghosts.”  

He’s always been one for science. Straight As throughout high school, attended science conventions as a hobby, alive even at 100 through some mad experimentation, definitely seen some weird shit during his lifetime. 

But this doesn’t make sense.

“No,” he repeats. “Give me the thing.”

“Fine, I’ll show you.” You roll your eyes. “Since you have absolutely no faith in me.”

He does a quick review of his surroundings. 

No one’s around, which is good. 

But that just leaves him in front of you, which is bad.

“Don’t you even thin-” he starts, muscles tensing as he shifts into a defensive stance.

You whip out the little pen thing from beside you but before he can react you turn around and duck. 

The click of a button releases a bright light, small but intensely stronger than the fluorescents in the station.

He reels back, feet carrying him away from where you’re crouched. His eyes quickly look down at his body. 

Nothing’s changed. 

He lifts his hand to check, runs it over his face. Still alive. He thinks.

“Behold,” you declare, “Ghost rat.”

He looks to where you’re pointing. The two rats from earlier were still nibbling on their food but something was off about them. 

He could see the faint outline of the tiles on the wall behind them, almost like they were... translucent.  

You aimed at the rats, not him. He doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or annoyed at the fake threat.

He watches as they move. They don’t look hurt or injured.

“Cool, huh?” you say smugly. 

He can’t stop staring at them. 

“Bring them back.”

“They’re fine, look how abstract it is.”

“Bring back the rats.” He can’t believe this is what his life has come to.

Bucky Barnes, Rodent Protector.

You aren’t fazed by his indifference, instead wonder filled eyes gaze at the animals. “Astral mice, sarge. Embrace the miracle of modern science.”

“You killed them.”

“They’re alive, they’re just ghosts.” You raise a finger to point. “Look, they’re still eating. Biological functions are still taking place.” 

 Which was true. But still. He doesn’t know what is going on.

“Bring them back to... non-ghost alive.” 

“You sure you don’t want one? That one kinda looks like you.” One hardened glare after you realise the answer. “Jeez, alright then.”

You dig through your bag before pulling out a matte black replica of your current invention. 

“Sexy colours, right?” You hold them up. “I modelled them after your arm.”

He looks down. Sure enough the gold and black matched his cybernetic limb. It was oddly flattering. 

“Say thank you, Y/N, for letting me be your muse-”

“Un-ghost the rats.” 

“Ungrateful,” you narrow your eyes at him. 

Still, you comply with his demands, ducking down to their level again.

A click of the button, a bright light and the rats are back to normal. Non-transparent normal.

“Okay, give me that.” He takes a step towards you. 

“Nuh uh.” You pull your arm back. His mouth twitches at your response; what are you, five?

The black one is stuffed back into your bag but you wave around the gold like a threat. 

He sighs, making a pass for it. In a second his arm is twisted and shoved against his back, forcing him to spin so that he’s facing away from you. His eyes widen.

What the fuck?

“Now we’re having a good time,” you whisper into this ear. 

He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist to rotate his own out of your grip. 

“Since when can you fight?” he asks.

“Are we getting to know each other now?” You raise your leg to give him a semi gentle kick in the side, using his momentary distraction in blocking it to give him a knock on the head with your free hand. “This is so romantic, sarge.”

There’s a low rumble in the distance and he knows the train would soon start pulling into the station. It was still a distance away, but his heightened senses warned him that it wouldn’t take much time. 

He groans. How much longer would he have to go at this?

He could easily win this fight and he knew it. But something in him itched, pulled him back from doing it.

He blocks another attempt at his head. “Stop that.”

You grin. “You know what’d be fun?”

He knows you’d reply even if he didn’t encourage it. The lights from the train light up the tunnel around the corner. 

“This.” You don’t give him a second to recover before you flick your wrist away from him.

The device flies out of your hand and right onto the track. The both of you watch, you in glee, he in horror, as the train runs right over it, unleashing the brightest light he had ever seen. His eyes shut instinctively before it blinds him.

He forces himself to pry open his eyelids, look at the damage caused. 

The train, sure enough, is translucent. He can see the posters on the other side of the platform through the carriage, through various people holding onto the poles for support or seated on the seats.

“Ghost train!” you cheer. He’s mortified.

“Fuck no,” he mumbles, yanking the backpack off your shoulder. He rummages through it, looking for the gold version.

“You lookin’ for this?” you ask nonchalantly, holding it up in your hand like it isn’t the solution to stopping a bunch of ghosts from wandering around New York. 

“Turn them back.” He gives you a chance. 

“Do it yourself, coward.” You grin, holding it above your head. The train is going to stop and he needs everyone to be alive and non-ghost before they leave.

He doesn’t wait this time, instead turning to you. The thing is still held in your grip above your head. He rolls his eyes, doing a quick assessment before grabbing your free hand, tugging you closer and plucking the device out of your hand before you have the opportunity to retract it.  

“Great, now figure out which button to press.” You’re dangerously close to him. He can feel your hoodie brush against his tactical jacket. “Also if you wanted to be all pressed up against me, you could have just asked.” 

He furrows his eyebrows, letting go of you as you give a loud laugh. He looks down at the device. It has several buttons, littering up and down the side. Each look the same. 

The train’s slowing down. 

“They’re both the same device; this version is not a magical solution to the other one. If you press the wrong button then both of us are going to be fucked.”

The last carriage is getting closer. 

“Say I win this round and I’ll fix it.” 

There’s a gleam in your eye. He knew this was exactly what you wanted. 

He wishes he was as stubborn as Steve, just run through each button until the right one worked.

“You win this one.” He hands it back. He wasn’t like Steve and judging by the number of items the idiot jumped out of planes without a parachute on a daily basis, Bucky was glad about it. At least Bucky did it sporadically.

“Yay, two each for the both of us, then,” you say, taking it from him and twisting, eyes running down the sides. “Close your eyes, old man, or else your cataract’s gonna get worse.”

Right as the train pulls to a stop, you press down on the button before throwing it and the blinding light that emanates from it. It lands on the top of the train right as the doors open. 

The passengers start stepping out. Some of them are looking at their hands and legs in a little disbelief, most just push through the crowd to leave.

He can’t see through them. It’s a good sign. 

He turns to look at you but you’re not there. Instead, the weight of the small device weighs down in his pocket.

The sound of a thud on glass draws his attention. 

He looks up at the train. The window of the carriage in front of him has a bit of fog on it. You trace a heart in the condensation and blow him a kiss before pulling your mask back on.

The train starts moving, leaving him alone in the platform again with your invention.

He lets out an exhale, wandering outside to grab a sandwich before waiting to catch the next train to go home. 

Later in the evening, he catches hold of a bit of tape and the ‘Dickhead’ poster finds a place on Sam’s door. 

He doesn’t appreciate it.

So now it’s tucked away in the shelf of Bucky’s bedside table along with a freeze ray, a ghost-inator, and some discount Pym Particles. 

Next part

[peace-for-levi]

Isabel [Levi Ackerman x GN!Reader]

N.B: heya! if you're scrolling through the tags and thinking, "hey, i have read this before..." chances are you probably have! don't worry, this is not plagiarism. you read that on a - now - deleted blog (i had to restart for reasons i won't go into.) so i am reposting everything now!

synopsis: when levi's wife goes into labour, he has to drop the crude, cold façade he normally holds and be there in their time of need.

tw: possible inaccuracies as i have never been pregnant before LOL, reader is labouring, occasional use of she/her throughout, levi being soft ASF (self-indulgent all the way.)

--

You turned your head at the sound of the door and almost immediately, you felt the wintery gust flood through the narrow hallway of your house. You sucked in a breath, but you quickly smiled. After all, your husband had returned to your cosy cottage.

He shut the door behind him, and you saw him lean his head against it, heaving a great sigh. You frowned at how he almost always needed those few seconds to just process everything in his head before turning to face you. You instinctively brought a hand down to your swollen tummy - was this a good decision after all? Having a baby in these troubling, turbulent times?

But then he turned around again to face you and his face was illuminated by the amber-coloured light of the oil lamp. He saw you stirring the steaming pot of stew and his steely gaze softened immediately.

He smiled.

Don’t be silly, you chastised yourself for such thoughts, he’s happy with us.

Of course he was. He could calm down instantly looking at you. He walked over and shrugged off his forest green cloak and placed it on the counter next to you. War-torn hands reaching out and cupping your cheeks, he pressed his lips to your forehead. You felt his calloused thumbs rub against your temples and you leaned into his touch. Immediately his hands fell to your tummy and rubbed in circles.

“Dinner smells good,” he whispers softly against your lips, “how was your day?”

Dinner did smell good; nothing could beat some beef stew after a long day with your cast iron kettle hanging over the fire, right? He couldn’t wait until your bellies were filled and he could cosy up with you in front of the fire with a cup of black tea in his hand.

Your smile grew wider when he sank to his knees and nuzzled against your tummy. You were probably going to give birth in the next week or two. You lowered your right hand and allowed it to tread through his raven locks, your other hand still stirring to prevent any sticking to your pot.

“Eh…” you huffed out.

Levi pulled back for a bit. “Had an ‘eh’ day myself… What’s troubling you?”

“Just very crampy today and my back is killing me. Why did you have an ‘eh’ day?”

You almost laughed when you heard Levi’s heavy sigh, and it was a long sigh too. He closed his eyes as he recounted the disaster at HQ but… what with the amount of grief Levi had been through, there was very little that could faze him now.

Still, when he recounted to you that Hange accidentally launched one of their new projects - a thunder spear - into HQ and close to his office at that - while he was drinking his tea! - obviously he would be pretty livid. All that was destroyed in the fires of the aftermath were two bedrooms and a storage room, and thankfully no lives were lost, but he wasn’t going to forgive Hange for a while after this. You had to give him credit for his composure.

“I miss Hange, even in spite of these incidents.” You spoke.

You hadn’t seen Hange since you were discharged by Erwin at three months. Well, you had waved at her in the streets when you did your shopping for you and Levi and you might converse briefly, but she was always too busy to stop by for a chat. She did, however, say she’d be present for the birth.

“I bet he’d get along with Hange.”

“Still sure we’re having a boy?” your husband asked.

You yawned as exhaustion began to consume you more and more. “Yeah, he is giving me a lot of trouble like how his father used to.” You teased.

Levi only muttered something under his breath, and you weren’t quite sure what it was. He leaned back a bit and extended his index finger. “Oi, stop giving your mother a hard time. She’s tired.”

Another yawn. “I am, actually. I might pass on dinner tonight and just head to bed.”

Levi stood up again and eyed you curiously; wasn’t like you to skip dinner but he thought nothing of it. He mentioned he’d save some for you and with a chaste kiss to your lips, you made your way upstairs.

You opened the creaky, wooden door to your shared bedroom and when you disrobed, you rooted around for a clean nightgown in your drawers. You groaned as another sharp pain radiated around your lower back and pelvic area. You held onto the edge of the drawers with a white-knuckle grip. You had gotten cramps here and there before throughout your pregnancy, but these were just all-consuming. A few more whimpers and a few deep breaths though, and they subsided.

Hmm, weird, there’s no way it’s time already? I’m still a week or two early, you said to yourself. If he wants to come now, what will happen… would he be healthy?

You shook your head and made your way over to the bed, propping yourself up with a few pillows. It wasn’t long before Levi came into the room too with a candle in his hand before placing it down on his desk. As he removed his shirt, the dull light illuminated and highlighted his defined body. You smiled dozily at him and you were fast asleep before he could even climb into bed.

.

.

.

Awaking in the middle of the night with your husband’s arms wrapped around you was always a treat. He didn’t always sleep, and when he did, it was poor. But whenever his arms snaked around your chest with one hand resting on your tummy, you knew he was sleeping well. It gave you a chance to look at his unguarded and peaceful countenance.

You woke up with a feeling of heartburn that was hard to ignore so you decided a drink of water might be a good idea. You made your way downstairs, careful not to wake your sleeping husband. Leaning against the countertop once you reached the kitchen, you fetched yourself a glass of water and began to sip slowly.

Gulping the last bit down, you placed the glass in a sink and walked towards the stairs again… until you felt a gush of warm liquid flow down your legs.

Oh, crap!

You peered down at the pool of fluid between your legs that was now pooling in your hallway. Your mind froze and all you could do was stare for a few seconds.

“U-uh… Levi?!” you shrieked.

You heard a large thud from upstairs when he landed less than gracefully - unceremoniously, even - after jumping from your bed and he was quick to scurry down the stairs at the yell.

“What the hell?! Are you ok--?”

He stopped when his bare feet splashed against the pool of fluids between you both.

“Oh, my?” he questioned and peered down. “Is it that time already?”

You only blinked at his calmness at the situation. How was he not freaking out?! Your fingers moved to clench your soaking gown. He reached for your hands and walked you towards the front door. He stopped for a few seconds as he scratched his head in thought.

“Levi?!” you screeched at his silence.

He had to stay as calm as possible. It was something he was well used to, being a good captain and all. But it was so different in this situation. Seeing you panic like this and the gravity of the situation made him almost lose his composure. He was able to keep everything well hidden beneath his steely exterior and this was all because he was good at analysing typically abnormal situations.

This wasn’t a situation like this. All he had to do was be a supportive husband for you.

As he hurried down the stairs again, the realization dawned on him again.

Was this actually happening? Were you two going to be parents? Could you two do this?

Well, it was not like you had a choice now.

“Come, let’s get moving.” He said, holding you with one hand by the small of your back.

He assisted you back up the stairs as fast as your body would allow, but once you got to the bathroom just a few metres shy of your bedroom, that’s when you felt everything tighten and your breath became lodged in your throat. Your legs buckled as your hands gripped onto the architrave. Levi was quick to descend with you and hold your hand. A pained groan escaped your lips and you heard deep breaths beside you.

“Deep breaths, you can do it, [F/n]...” he said as he rubbed your back in circles. He tried to do deep breathing with you, taking long, exaggerated breaths. All to feel you a little less alone or too lost in your own pain.

It wasn’t the worst pain you had experienced - you were a former veteran of the Scouts after all - but that didn’t make the feeling pleasant either.

He propped up all the pillows to give you ample support and he placed a hand on your shin, gesturing you to keep your legs open. It seemed that the next contraction seemed to be taking its time, so he made the decision to alert the neighbours. This was a plan Levi had made with them a few months ago, that he’d call next door and ask them to go rush to the nurses and for Hange. Luckily for you two, HQ was no more than a five-minute walk away.

After slipping into a dress shirt and black slacks, he ran down the stairs and hopped over the wall to your neighbour. It was close to midnight now, but hopefully they’d be awake… If not, he’d have to leave you alone by yourself and that was not an option.

He rapped on the door and even called out to them, before knocking again. Thankfully, the middle-aged man and his wife seemed to be up and were quick to open the door.

Perhaps Levi looked a bit more flustered than he thought he did. Then again, as someone so composed all the time, any change in composure screamed out.

“Captain Levi? Is everything alright?” the wife asked.

Levi inhaled sharply. Damn, he was getting stressed already. If they were to shine the oil lamp up to his face, they would be able to see the sweat beading at his brows and how his pupils had narrowed from the intensity of the situation. “[F/n] has gone into labour, earlier than we expected. She needs the nurses a-and Hange--” Fuck, was he stuttering from it all? “I can’t leave her alone to get them and-”

The wife who was probably a good three inches shorter than him looked up at him and passed him a soft smile; a reassuring smile. She had been through all this before. She knew the chaos involved but knew the best thing he could be was a pillar of support for you. She placed her hands on his shoulders and got her to look at him. Normally he’d shrug off any physical contact from anyone that wasn’t you, but his mind was spiralling, and he was doing his best to hide it.

“Levi, it’s okay. Dear, you go get the nursing staff and Hange, okay?” she called out to her husband who had already saddled up in the meantime and taken off. “My husband will be back soon. Let me get you a few things.”

Levi tapped his foot impatiently as she pattered around the house for a bit. She came back with a bag of rags, towels and some knitted clothes.

“It’s important you stay calm, okay? What do you think you’ll have?”

Levi shrugged as he nodded his thanks. “I don’t know, of course, but [F/n] reckons we’ll have a boy.”

“Hmm… I think you’ll have a daughter!” she beamed.

Levi began to head out the door again. “Look, thank you so much for everything.”

“Best of luck, Levi,” she wished with a gleeful smile, “and congratulations.”

Levi nodded with the bag and headed back up the stairs of his home. He burst through the door of your bedroom and was immediately at your side again. He dropped the bag down at your bedside and reached for your hand. He caught you just in time for another contraction. You tried to steady yourself, but you cried out once more and gripped onto the blankets as another contraction overwhelmed you. You hastily grabbed a pillow and cried into it, trying to muffle your cries. Okay, it was official, this was the worst pain you had felt thus far, and all Levi could do was stare helplessly.

It’s not like he could do much. He couldn’t take away the pain from you, but by god, he wished he could. He’d deliver the child if biologically possible, anything to not see you in so much agony. But every time a contraction died away, you would re-emerge and tackle this again with an ungodly amount of strength.

And he couldn’t be prouder of you in these agonizing yet awe-inspiring moments.

You lowered your pillow when you vaguely heard the crowd of nurses patter into the room and everything kicked off. The lead nurse stated she’d be the main overseer to everything. At times, Levi’s mind flitted in and out of the conversation at hand from the nurses. His stare glossed over occasionally, and you couldn’t exactly decipher what it was he was feeling. Whatever it was he was feeling, he hid it well. He absent-mindedly rubbed the small of your back hoping you’d relax as the nurse checked your cervix. His ears perked up once he heard the number ‘three.’

“Three centimetres, seven to go, I reckon.”

“OOH, SEVEN?! HOW EXCITING!” a voice from outside screeched and Levi’s face fell flat. The bespectacled brunette burst through the door. “THAT’S SO FEW!”

“Hange.” Levi barked. He said nothing but his gaze said, be quiet now. “If you’re not gonna be helpful to [F/n], you can leave out the door you came in.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she aired as she rushed over to the other side of your bed and sat on top. “How are you doing, [f/n]? Anything I can do?” she asked. At first you shook your head, but when she mentioned that she brought a few scented candles to help soothe you - or at the very least, keep a gentle ambiance going - you perked up. “Okay, I’ll go light them. Levi, do you have any matches?”

“In the high cupboard left to the sink.” He said and she scurried down.

“Fuck… Levi, it’s happening again…” you groaned as you tossed your head back.

“I have you.” He reminded. He loosened his hand so you could squeeze it. With each contraction came a pain that dominated your entire being. In those moments, for those seconds that stretched into infinity, there was nothing else. Every contraction seemed to hurt more than before, and you would be left panting and almost delirious for a few seconds. Everything melted into the background when a contraction came; the nurses melted to nothing as did their encouraging cries.

But you remained grounded to Levi. He held your hand with every contraction and his lips were pressed to your sweaty temple. While you could only vaguely hear his encouraging words, he was still there and encouraging you to breathe deeply through it all, even if it hardly did anything to alleviate the pain.

“How much longer will this take?”

“She progressed quickly enough to get to the three so it may not take too long. Though it could just as easily be another few hours, or even well into tomorrow. I’m sorry, there’s no way of knowing.” The nurse replied.

Levi only nodded. He just wanted you to be okay and to make this as pain-free as possible. Hange came back in with the matches and began to light a few candles.

As time passed, your head fell. The contractions kept coming but you weren’t progressing as fast as you thought. By the time the second hour rolled by, you had only made it to four centimetres. You were reminded that you’d know when to push.

Levi couldn’t stand to see you in so much pain.

“Is there anything we can do?” he asked, now getting slightly panicked.

The nurse smiled sadly, knowing there was only so much they could do. “[F/n], how about a walk out in the fresh air?” she offered.

Levi peered over at you. Within the past two hours, he had acquired a basin and wet cloth, and was dabbing it occasionally on your forehead. “How about it?” he asked, repeating the motion of it as you lifted your head up again to receive his touch.

“If I walk down those stairs, I don’t think I’ll make it back up…” you huffed.

Hange had taken to holding your other hand too. Levi’s initial glare at her excitement seemed to do the trick and she was very helpful. Perhaps more proactive than the nurses. Then again, she was your best friend; she probably wanted to do everything under the sun.

“A bath may help?” Hange perked up. “Warm water and all?” to which you nodded.

Levi stood and pulled you up. Before you may have walked upright and with your back straight, but now you walked totally hunched over. He ordered for someone - anyone who could get there fastest - to draw a bath. A few stayed behind in the bedroom, taking turns supervising you.

Levi walked you towards the bathroom and unbuttoned your nightgown. With an ‘arms up’ command, he had it off you quickly and you were left in just your bra. He lowered you into the bath and you sat in the middle of the tub. He questioned why you weren’t going to lean back and that was when you asked him to come into the bath with you. He wasn’t going to fight you in the moment and rushed back to the bedroom and put on a pair of (swimming) shorts… or shorts he had no issue getting wet. Within mere seconds, he lowered himself into the bath and wrapped his legs loosely around your waist, his chest firm against your back. He began to rub your arms up and down and leaned over to press a kiss to your cheek.

“You’re doing so well.” He said. His tone lowered to a whisper when he heard you begin to weep. “Hey, hey, hey… What’s wrong? Ah-- Hange, can you go get us a basin?” he asked. Your face paled a little and he shouted for the Titan scientist to hurry as another contraction washed over you.

“L-Levi, I don’t feel right…”

“Hange!” he barked for the third time.

You brought a hand up to your mouth and expelled whatever food had been inside you from before. The pain of this contraction was so intense you had thrown up. Levi swept a thumb across your chin and Hange came in with a basin, and you spilled the rest into it. In fact, you threw up twice more. The bitter taste in your mouth left you feeling all disgusting and ‘icky’, and you let out a choked sob of frustration. Your body had you rocking back and forth on its own accord, trying to move with the pain so to speak, letting out pained groans through gnashed teeth.

Levi leaned you forward and began to rub your lower back. “Breathe. You gotta breathe, [f/n], come on.”

You shook your head as you wailed, almost sounding like you were giving in. “I can’t! It’s too much, Levi!”

“Hey,” he called gently. “Sniff the flowers,” he commanded and paused to breathe in, “and blow out the candles” and he exhaled. “You can do that for me?”

You weren’t sure about how the silly visual cue helped you at all, but you also knew Levi wasn’t going to quit saying it until you did what he told you to do. After a few deep breaths, you calmed down and your contraction died away. Levi continued to rub your lower back, offering whispered words of encouragement.

“Gosh, Shorty, aren’t you such a sweetie?” Hange jeered.

“Go away, Four Eyes.”

The contractions came and went, growing more and more intense. Levi sometimes opted to swish the water down and forth or turn on the tap, to give you something else to focus on. You weren’t sure how long you two stayed in the bath, but Levi helped lift you out once the water had gotten cold. Hange went to relight the candles, pillows were propped back up and you were moved back to your bedroom, to do the whole thing all over again.

And frankly, you weren’t sure how long you could hold on for. It was unbearable. As the hours ticked by until the wee morning, you were losing your strength.

“I’m sorry.” Levi mumbled as he kissed your matted hair.

“It hurts so much. I’m so tired.” You whispered, your voice dry and hoarse.

Levi looked up at the nurse and then over at the small clock on your bedside lock. Seven in the morning, so you had been labouring for seven hours, if not more if you were experiencing smaller contractions before your water broke.

How he ached to take all your pain away from you; to shoulder it all and save you from this agony. You both knew it would be worth it at the end, but the process of getting there was no doubt painful.

“You’re doing well. It’ll all be over soon, won’t it?” he asked and looked at the nurse.

“I’ll go see how far you are,” she said, softly. You let your legs widen as she did another cervical exam. You flinched a bit as you felt her gloved fingers inside. She gasped. “My, you’re almost there. Easily nine centimetres!”

For the first time in a couple hours, you felt genuine relief amidst all the chaos and pain.

.

.

.

Levi had sent the nurses and Hange downstairs an hour later, telling them they were free to help themselves to food stored in your cupboards. They had been crowding around you both for over eight hours now, they deserved a break too. You were fine with your husband sitting through your contractions with you, especially when you only had a centimetre or two left.

That was when you felt an excruciating pain down below, unlike anything you had felt all evening. Levi was at your side in seconds.

“What is it?”

“Hnnn!” you groaned out. This was it. This had to be it, the feeling the nurses told you about. An overwhelming amount of pressure was building between your legs and you let out a guttural noise. “Get Hange and the nurses.”

“Wait, is time? Now-”

“Get the fucking nurse, Levi!” you yelled, and he ran down to fetch them.

The pressure had your hips swaying into position, it was almost unbearable to refrain from pushing. The pain had your whole body trembling. Levi arrived back in with the nurses and you opened your legs at the lead nurse’s command. Your husband was sitting by your side once more, lacing his fingers with yours.

“I see a head! And plenty of hair too! The baby has moved into the birth canal. I need you to push on the next contraction.” She explained.

You heaved in massive strokes, starting to lose your breath. You were completely worn out now, body and mind. You all waited with bated breaths for the next contraction to hit. You took in a massive breath when you felt that familiar pain come back again. Your stomach tightened - everything tightened - as a scream ripped out from your throat.

“You have got to push harder, [f/n].” The nurse urged. Hange came in, sitting on the bed and shuffled onto the bed to hold your other hand.

You shook your head. There was no way you could, you were so depleted of energy.

“You can do this.” Your husband said.

“I can’t! You have to do it for me!” you wept into his arms.

“I would if I could.” He assured you.

The nurse called for your attention. “The next time you push, tuck your chin into your chest and push as though you got to do a number two. But push very hard.”

You blinked frantically. “Wait, what if I do poop?”

“That means you’re pushing right!” Hange cheered.

This entire conversation made Levi grimace, and it took every ounce of self-control to not cringe.

The final contraction hit and with whatever strength you could muster, you pushed through with a shrill cry. The baby began to crown, the hot stretching of flesh almost making you want to stop but you had to keep pushing through. You felt the head leave your body and you pushed through the rest of your contraction. You held onto Levi’s hand with such force he was pretty sure you could have broken it. And he would have taken it.

And then the pain left your body finally.

Tiny cries pierced the air.

Levi tilted your head back and his lips crashed against yours in a kiss that carried so many emotions with it; love, adoration, pride, elation and gratitude. He kissed you again and once more while your baby was being wrapped up. One of the extra nurses moved to clean you up and help deliver the placenta.

“A girl, congratulations.” The nurse whispered. Hange cracked a toothy grin, but she knew to step back and leave you two to have your moment.

You looked down at your wrapped-up little miracle, falling in-love instantly. Had her father’s hair and gunmetal eyes, but your eye shape and complexion. She also had your chin too. Your index finger rubbed against her plump cheeks and almost began to whimper again but with a few gentle hushes from you, she settled down once more. She was probably hungry too.

“She looks so much like you…” you whispered, looking up at your husband. The nurses and Hange took this as their cue to leave. Levi’s eyes had completely glossed over with a newfound vulnerable expression that you had never seen before. You could tell he was just itching to hold her, so as gently as you could, you shuffled over to the side to allow Levi to relax into the headrest. “Here, Levi.”

Your little girl was placed into his arms and a calloused thumb immediately went to trace under her eyes and around her cheeks, her forehead; everywhere. A swell of emotions overcame him like a tsunami crashing against the shoreline and he shut his eyes, tears flowing down his pallid cheeks and he made no effort to stop them. His lower lips trembled, and minute whimpers escaped his lips, but he was desperately clawing at whatever composure he had left to try to piece himself back together.

But he could cry, his daughter was here. He was a father now; he could be as emotional as he liked, and no one would care.

“Isabel.” You said, gently, and Levi nodded at the suggestion.

Levi’s thumb moved to his daughter’s fist and her fingers latched around it instantly, bringing his thumb to her mouth and began to suck. He let out a soft chuckle. “I think she’s hungry.”

“I bet she is.” You said, reaching out and taking a hold of her once more. The baby began to wriggle, and her arms broke free from the blanket, beginning to fuss. You lowered one side of your nightgown and held your daughter against your breast. She latched after a few seconds and by god was it uncomfortable. The feeling had you biting your lower lip in discomfort, but you just had to grin and bear it.

The three of you sat in silence for another half hour or so as you nursed your baby when you heard a knock on the door. Hange peeked her head around and smiled widely at you both.

“Shhh.” Levi was quick to say.

Hange tiptoed in. “I may have bought a few visitors…”

The raven-haired man’s face fell flat. “How many?”

And in came all of Levi’s newest squad and Erwin. He face-palmed at the noise and shrugged off his blazer to cover you and your daughter.

“Is this a bad time, Levi?”

“Yes, it’s a bad time. She’s barely been born a half hour and--”

“I KNEW IT WOULD BE A GIRL! TAKE THAT, MISTER DEATH WISH!” you heard come from outside the room. You only sighed softly.

“I tried to keep those two out of this,” Erwin mentioned as he walked over to the two of you. You removed your baby from your breast and buttoned up your nightgown again. The blonde smiled in pure adoration. “She’s so precious. Congratulations, Levi, [F/n].”

“Thank you, Erwin.” He replied and you nodded your thanks.

In your half-asleep state, you began to nurse again in front of everyone, not bothering to cover up. Levi sighed heavily and moved to cover you up again before you came through.

“Sir, we can call back later if you want.” Eren piped up, walking over to stand by his superior.

“It’s okay, Eren, this is natural. I don’t mind, provided you don’t stare too much.”

“I mind?!” Levi cried. With your free hand, you rested it on his hand. He took a deep breath and sighed. “Fine. You can stay, Jaeger. All of you can.”

Sasha and Connie were next to try to squeeze onto your too small bed for nine extra people.

“I brought her some potatoes!” she chimed and handed one to you. You had to politely explain that babies probably won’t eat until four months at the earliest. And even then, it would only be baby gloop and mushy foods. Not steamed potatoes.

Connie peaked over Levi’s shoulder. “Do you mind?” Levi asked him rhetorically.

“Nope,” he answered swiftly and saluted. On the wrong side. “Sir, why does it look squishy and ugly?”

And then ensued a fiery debate from everyone in the room (apart from Erwin) on why you shouldn’t call babies squishy and ugly, especially in front of their parents. Especially if one of those parents was one Levi Ackerman. But amidst all the commotion, both you and your baby were tuckered out. Levi was surprised that he saw you dozing off in spite of all the ruckus and that your baby was suckling away on nothing.

The short man may have had his doubts before Isabel was born but looking at everyone around here right now - being so chaotic and noisy, but so full of happiness and pride for you both - made all those negative thoughts wash away.

It took a bit of shuffling and squeaking of military boots, but eventually everyone was kicked out by Levi. He looked back fondly at you two, both of you sound asleep.

He would promise you both a normal, peaceful, family life one day. Even if he had to lay down his life doing it.

Because every doubt, struggle, emotional outburst, hormonal-fuelled argument led you both to this, and he would not trade it for the world.

This was his purpose; protect his beautiful wife and precious daughter.

And maybe one day, in the distant future, he would be able to spend more time with you two. In a world without Titans. In a world that was peaceful.

But for now, he had a small serving - a slice - of peace at home and he couldn’t wait to navigate this new chapter of his life with you.

[koulakoukoula2003]

Terror (Levi x Reader)

Pairing: Levi x Reader, Levi x You, Levi x OC

Genre: loooots of fluff, and looooots of angst. Like SOOO MUCH ✨ ANGST✨, mention of violence.

Summary: You gave it your best. You fought with everything you had, but you were alone. You had to watch the Mike Squad whilst the titans tore them apart and you were the only one left to protect the scared recruits of the 104th that were cornered in Utgard Castle.

But from the moment word went out that titans had breached Wall Rose, Levi mounted his horse and set out to find you. He could not lose you. You were the only one that he had left. He found you wounded and against all odds, he rushes you back to a hospital in Trost. He can't lose you. He won't allow it.

POV: 3rd Person's POV (cuz 2nd Person is killing me y'all, sorry 😩)

Enjoyyyy!! 🥰

His horse was going fast. One hand was tight around her, pressing her body protectively against his own, and the other hand was holding the reins of his horse. Both of Levi’s hands were still holding his swords. He had already wiped out a couple of titans on his way back to Trost, but he didn’t let those bastards take any more than a few seconds of his time. (Y/n)’s time.

Her back was pressed against his chest. Her head had rolled back tiredly against his shoulder. He had wrapped his green cloak around her that should be enough to keep her warm. He did not mind the violent wind as it crushed against his body while riding fast on horseback. She needed it more than him.

Her eyes were closed. He had tried his best not to let her fall asleep. If she’d lose consciousness, then she wasn’t going to come back. How could he let this happen? Watching her wounded like that felt like a dagger stabbing mercilessly through his flesh. Her eyelids were barely open. Her hands were shaking and her breathing, heavy. It was getting slower and slower by the time. She was mumbling incomprehensible words as if she was having hallucinations. She was warm. She was probably having a fever.

“Don’t die on me,” Levi growled in her ear. “You will not die on me, (y/n),” His hand tightened around her, and in the end, he realised, he was just trying to convince himself that he wasn’t going to lose her.

He couldn’t lose her. Not like he had lost all the others. People in his life would just keep dying and leaving him alone in his misery. But he found that he was never alone and miserable because she was there. (Y/n) had always been there and she had never left. It was funny to think of how many times those past years he had tried to get rid of her, just to give it his all now to keep her with him. He could not imagine life without her.

Not without those hugs that she’d give him whenever he’d need them the most -and he never even had to ask. She just knew. Not without those terrible jokes of hers -that no one would laugh at but her and Hange- and those sassy remarks that always aimed to get on his nerves. Most times he’d only act annoyed just to give her what she wanted. And even those times that he’d pass out by his office from the exhaustion and the pressure, he’d wake up the other day covered in a blanket that she had undoubtedly brought for him.

All those years she had been there. He couldn’t lose her now. If he lost her, he’d never be able to tell her… He’d never be able to hold her in the nights. Nor listen to her stupid jokes, and her sweet laughter, and look upon that reassuring, comforting smile that she’d give him whenever he’d cup her face. He couldn’t even begin to think of what she had gone through that entire night. How many people she had watched die, and in how much pain she must have been right now.

She would be having nightmares for tonight, and for all the nights to come, but he’d hold her. He’d hold her every single night if it meant he’d be able to make her feel better. But please…

Levi buried his face briefly at the back of her shoulder and breathed her in. “Don’t leave me, (y/n)… not you,”

Time Skip

He reached the hospital by dusk. She was still breathing when the doctors took her in and vanished behind the closed doors of a room. Levi was left alone in that hospital’s empty halls of utter despair. He just sat down on a chair outside the room they had taken her in and he waited. He didn’t even know how many hours he waited, he only knew it was late in the night and only a few candles and oil lamps were bringing light in the building. Most people had left, and the hospital was almost empty. He didn’t care though. He only glanced at the closed door of her room for the hundredth time, and he knew that any moment the doctor would walk out and either tell him that she was dead, or that she had miraculously survived.

He didn’t know which one was most likely to happen. Levi pressed his elbows on the top of his knees and he stared blankly down on the white marbled floor. There was a tight knot in his stomach that he always got when either (y/n) or any other of his comrades were in danger. All the previous times, he could always deal with it, but this time, it was unbearable.

Levi’s fingers fisted painfully in his hair. Eyes wide as he could think of nothing but the worst outcome. Those hours must have been the longest of his life. He could not remember himself being so scared of anything else in his life. He had left his ODM outside with his horse, along with his jacket and his ascot that had started to feel too tight around his neck. He had rolled up his sleeves at the height of his elbows, and a few buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned.

Levi sighed heavily once more. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. He never thought something could scare him that much. He could take down the wildest, most abnormal titans that humanity would ever face. He could kill in cold blood the biggest scums of the Undercity. He could fight anything, and nothing would scare him enough to catch his breath halfway his throat.

Even the morning before the latest Expedition, when he jumped off his unceremoniously interrupted sleep, on that treacherous gut feeling that his comrades were all going to die. And that feeling was correct. And then, facing their families to bring the news was twice as scary as watching their bodies being buried. But she was there. (Y/n) was beside him through all of these and he had a reason to remain strong. He had a reason to keep that frozen mask on his face of the cruel, unforgiving man that everyone made him out to be. He had a reason to remain strong, and that reason was her. It had always been.

If he lost her, what would be his reason to go on in this life? If he lost her, who was going to be with him through all those terrors, and all those nightmares, and all that pressure? Who? He had no one he could hug and they would hug him back. It had always been her.

What the hell am I going to do if she’s-?

“Captain Levi,”

The doctor’s voice cut that endless chain of thoughts that tormented his mind. Levi stood up right away and approached the man in white. He remembered his heart insanely hammering beneath his chest until he could hear it as loud as the doctor’s voice.

“Lieutenant (Y/n) lost too much blood but we managed to stop the bleeding. We administered her enough blood from a donor. She should be okay after she fights off the Hypovolemic Shock,”

“And if she doesn’t?!” Levi asked worriedly.

“She will. It may take a while, but she will,” The doctor gave him a reassuring smile. “You may see her, Captain. I’ll be here the entire night, so if you need anything, just let me know,”

“Thank you, doc,”

The doctor gave him a nod before he walked away and Levi didn’t waste a moment further. He rushed in her room, closing the door behind. It wasn’t entirely dark. The moonlight came bright from the window, and an oil lamp was resting beside her bed on a small wooden table.

She looked pale. Paler than the dead. She didn’t have that lively colour on her skin that she usually had, nor that rosy flush that was almost permanently engulfing her cheeks. Her lips were no longer that gorgeous pink, they were almost a light blue. Levi sat by a chair that rested beside the bed and his hand reached for her own. He was startled of how cold her hand was. Her hands were usually never cold, but this time, it was as if he was holding a block of ice.

It hurt him so much watching her like that. He couldn’t even begin to think of how much she had fought or how much blood she had lost. Mike and his squad were dead. He could only imagine what she had seen. She was going to break down after she’d gain back her senses.

He trapped her hand between both his own. She hissed and it made his eyes widen for a moment on the thought of hurting her somehow. “Cold,” she mumbled before her body shook and her face twisted into a tormented expression. Her fingers tightened around his own before they loosened again. Her expression changed back into a peaceful one and she slipped back into unconsciousness.

Levi for once had no idea what to do. She was already beneath three blankets that didn’t seem to be helping somehow. He sighed heavily and he wished he could take his eyes off of her but he couldn’t. He laced their fingers together and tried to warm up her hand at least. It was his fault she was in that situation. He had promised to protect her no matter what, and now she had barely made it out of death’s way.

He had failed to keep her safe. Miserably. But how could anybody know that titans would show up out of nowhere in Wall Rose? It was clear that the walls weren’t safe anymore.

There was no place that was safe in this world. There was no place where she would be and be protected. The same was for everyone else, but he did not care about everyone else. He only cared about her. He only cared about her because he had allowed himself to fall so deeply, and so irrevocably, that there was no going back. There was no going back to normal. It had never been normal actually. He was always falling. Slow, and deliberate. He was only realising it now.

He didn’t know if she’d return that feeling, and it was alright. If she wouldn’t, then he was going to back away. But he’d let her know. He had to tell her because he knew he might not ever get that chance again.

Levi for once did what he wanted to do. A fourth blanket wasn’t going to do much. He pushed off his boots. He slipped beneath the bedsheets and settled her limp body on top of his own. Her back pressed against his chest, and her head rolled back on his shoulder. His hands slipped around her waist, gathering her own hands in his and pressing her body against his own. She was cold, but those small tremors that her pale lips made, finally slowed down.

Levi pressed a kiss on her temple and his hands tightened around her, spotting that tight bandage around her stomach. “Stay with me, (y/n),” he whispered softly in her ear. His breath brushed warm down her cheekbone. “Don’t ever leave me… I-” he had no idea what it was that cut him. He didn’t know why saying those three, simple words could be so difficult. He was afraid that she’d hear him. He gritted his teeth. It was so useless to keep resisting. “I love you,” He had never before been so honest with himself. He would always keep lying to himself about being strong, and untouchable, and cold, and ruthless. But that was one thing that he was absolutely certain about. He loved her.

But, what a coward am I? Only getting to tell her when she was unconscious and hoping she’d never hear him. No. He was going to say it tomorrow again when she'd wake up. Now, he was actually hoping she’d hear him. He was hoping that by telling her that, she wouldn’t give up on that fight for her life.

Levi buried his face in her hair, and he breathed her in. His arms were tight but careful around her. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax. The doctor said she was going to be okay. He only had to wait and be with her. He wasn’t going to leave her side. Not ever.

A/N: Hello, lovelies!!!!🥰 You can read Part 2 here!!! Feel free to reblog and comment beneath to lemme know what you think! Thanks for reading!!! (This is also a chapter from my Levi x OC LongFic on ao3)

[akitohsworld]

Disclaimer: I wrote this some time ago, when I was very sleepy. How they could've met before the exchange? I love stupid references don't@ me lol

Warning: slight NSFW at the end (under the cut)

Put a spell on me |Solomon X m!Reader

Saying Solomon was feeling under the weather was an understatement. He felt like absolute shit. His stomach was recoiling, giving him the impression he had to vomit, but couldn't. Resulting in him being wobbly on his feet. Although, he was currently trying to sober up. The lack of water caused his head to hurt, while he walked alongside the river to go back to his apartment. He was in no shape to teleport, not with the sense of orientation he had right now.

A frustrated groan escaped him as he grabbed onto the metal fence beside the river, letting gravity take over as he slouched down onto the floor.

It was a beautiful night, you could see the starry sky reflecting in the river. The silence only being disturbed by some outlandish music in the distance. Somewhere, there was another party raving besides the witches sabbath he had successfully escaped.

He knew he shouldn't have accepted that many drinks from the witches. But it had been a successful year, he was only going back to the Devildom next week... And, probably, going to meet that other exchange student by then.

"Hey fam, you okay?" A voice slurred above him, blocking the blinding streetlights before him.

"Yeah yeah, thank you for your concern-," Solomon looked up surprised. He thought he was the only one here-

"Here ," a handsome guy, probably not a sorcerer, held out a bottle of water to him, grinning friendly. "You gotta stay hydrated when drunk."

"Uhm.. thanks?" Solomon chuckled. "That's nice, but I hear I shouldn't accept drinks from kind strangers"

Their hair reflected in the warm light, along with unfocused eyes glistening in the dark, when he shot Solomon a kind smile.

Solomon suspected he was from where the music was coming from. Another rave or party or whatever, since he was wearing flashy attire and sweat was glistening on his smooth skin.

From dancing, maybe? It wasn't that warm. Rather fresh, if Solomon would say so himself.

"Hmmm", the stranger put a hand on his chin. "I guess, I'm feelin' a biiiiit brave tonight haha. Here, I'll take a sip from it first."

He chucked down a bit of water. "There."

Solomon just stared at him for a solid second. Maybe, probably, surely, this was the alcohol. But this stranger had something alluring about him. His glistening lips from the water made Solomon unable to do anything else but stare.

"You going to take it, or not?"

"Ah yes", Solomon grabbed the bottle and took a sip before putting it back down again.

"May I sit with you?" He put a hand on his neck and averted his gaze. "I- uhm came here to get away from all the noise for a bit- I don't wanna be creepy or anything-"

"Oh- Yes of course! Don't worry about it"

The grin returned to his face as he slouched down beside him. "Thank you."

Solomon took another chug of water. He didn't really have anywhere to be, nor did he have the strength to go home anyways. So he figured he might as well sober up, while making some new memories.

"Out of curiosity.. what do you mean by brave?" Solomon smirked at him.

"Well...", the stranger just smiled, a slight tint of colour dusting his cheeks. "You're pretty handsome. And I normally can't ask out guys for the heck of it.. so yeah. I'd say I'm being stupidly brave by talking to someone as hot as you."

The sorcerer laughed. "How very direct"

"Must be the alcohol", he chuckled. "I don't know anyone around here.. and I have a habit of drinking too much when I'm at social gatherings without friends.. What about you? Why are you here all alone?.. If it's okay to ask, at least."

"Ah it's okay~ I'm trying to sober up from drinking too", Solomon sighed. "It was an exhausting night.."

The stranger nodded sighing. "Tell me about it."

"So.. what are you celebrating?"

And so, they proceeded to talk about the reasons why they were here. Their conversation slowly but surely going of its original rails, from politics to religion to light-hearted shows and childhood memories.

Solomon, of course, didn't go into much detail about magic nor anything like that. They were simply trailing off into more and more different topics, running their tongues because of the alcohol.

"Wait, people avoid you when you invite them?" He asked in shock, "Even after you offer to cook for them?! Woah, that's rude after everything you've done..."

Solomon hung his head in disappointment. "I really don't know what the issue is, you know? It's not like they outright avoid me when we nee- want to hang out, but everytime I offer my hospitality they just.. you know?"

"Shiiiit bro... ," he thought for a bit, then joked, "Maybe your cooking sucks?"

Solomon sighed dramatically, proceeding to pout. "Can't blame the tasteless."

"Just kidding kidding!!" he smiled sympathetically, "Maybe it's best if you ask them directly about it. Honesty is always key, no matter where you're from."

Solomon remembered something.

"So, I'm guessing you're not from around here?"

The stranger looked him up and down, seeming to think for a bit and then smirking back at him.

"You tell me, wizard boy. Am I?"

"Oh? How do you know?"

"Know what?"

"That I'm", Solomon gesticulated dramatically, "a wizard."

He became serious and leaned closer to Solomon, putting a hand on his shoulder. Solomon's breath hitched ever so slightly as the stranger's intense gaze held him entranced.

"You're a wizard, Harry."

"Huh?"

The stranger wheezed at his reference, as Solomon finally understood and erupted into laughter himself.

He stopped himself to respond seriously:

"..A wizard?"

"Don't you feel it ," the stranger put their hand over Solomon's heart, making his heart pound a bit harder, which surprised him, "...,Mister Krabs?"

"Huh- What?-"

After a perplexed pause they looked at each other and wheezed and cackled in the cursed manner your friends laugh when someone tells a ridiculous, dumb joke.

As they sat there, next to a river enveloped by the light of street lamps in a park, their laughter erupted through the silent night. Nothing but very faint music could be heard in the distance. Solomon didn't even know why he was laughing so hard. It was a stupid reference. And this stranger was clearly out of it.

There was something about him... Solomon just couldn't put his finger to it.

"S-so haha you're a man of culture as well~", Solomon calmed down, "What's your name?"

" Of course~ (y/N)." The stranger responded smiling, wiping away a tear. "Yours?"

"Solomon.", he answered reciprocating the smile.

"Solomon the wise?"

"Yes." He shot him a knowing glance. "So you do know me~"

"Oh yes~" (y/N)'s fingers slid over Solomon's coat. "You dress like a wizard, you look like a wizard aaaaand your named after King Solomon the wise. Great literature surrounds you: like Ars Goëtia and the lesser keys of, well, you", their gaze turned to look into the sorcerer's grey eyes.

With that, Solomon understood.

This person didn't know him . He knew of his tales, the legends, basically fairy tales.

He was like most humans... Unaware of the magical world he lived in. The realisation stung a bit, but the sorcerer decided to play along anyways as he felt himself sobering up.

"Well, I can't disappoint a fan like yourself now, can I?" Solomon smirked.

"Ohh~ So are you going to show me any tricks?" (y/N) laughed, standing up challengingly. "Come at me with your best shot, wizard boy~"

Solomon didn't know why, but he felt the urge to impress the young man.

"Hmm", he stood up, although a bit wobbly. "Alright. But I'll need an assistant~"

"Oh my oh myyy" (y/N) excitedly clapped their hands together. "I'll sacrifice myself for the greater good then."

Solomon chuckled, shooting him a provocative glance through his lashes at which he thought he saw (y/N) blushing.

"So, (y/N), are you ready?"

"I'm was born ready"

Solomon offered him his hand. "Take my hand, my cute assistant~"

"Oh my, and he has a way with words", (y/N) overdramatically took his hand, "The ladies will die if you do that, you know?"

"Oh will they now?", Solomon pulled him towards himself, "What effect do you think Hecate's power will have on you?"

"I like your funny words, magic man", (y/N) smirked playfully. "Tell me more~"

Solomon scoffed. This guy is a walking reference book.

"Have you ever danced with a sorcerer in the pale moonlight?", he asked, putting another hand on (y/N)'s waist, said man's breath hitching.

"W-well, I'm pretty sure the proverb goes different, Solomon", he put a hand on his counterpart's shoulder as he let Solomon take the lead, "I thought you were going to show me a trick though~"

"Patience is a virtue", he simply said teasingly.

"-and a pain", (y/N) retorted, while taking the first step back.

"So you know how to waltz?", Solomon began to lead.

"School taught me many things", he imitated a rough old man voice, "You youngsters would never understand"

Solomon tried to contain his need to laugh.

"Aha~ Funny, enlighten me?"

"Well, I don't know what they teach in wizard boy-school", they turned, " But back in my day, they tried to teach me calculus"

Solomon quirked a brow. "Tried?" Then he spun (y/N) around.

"Well, I was busy drawing into my notes", his cold hand slipped to Solomon's neck, making the sorcerer tense up.

"And what kind of Mona Lisa-worth drawings were you working on? I bet only of the highest quality~", sarcasm dripped from his voice as he shot (y/N) a teasing smile.

"Oh you can't even imagine~", (y/N) rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner before shooting him a deadpan look, "Penises mostly"

A laugh escaped Solomon. "How refined"

"I am nothing but refined, sir~"

Solomon spun him around again, matching no pace in particular, as he pulled him closer to his chest this time. A small gasp left (y/N)'s mouth.

"H-hey now, be careful there. Or do you want me to fall?"

Solomon's lips pursed up in amusement, but quickly froze as he looked into the man's face.

(y/N)'s expression was contorted in utter joy, like he couldn't contain their grin. He looked stupidly adorable...

Solomon felt his heart clench at the sight. But he quickly snapped out of it as he shot (y/N) another charming smile.

"So, about 'the ladies dying' at my charm.."

"You're still on about that?" (y/N) chuckled amused, "Give it a rest wizard boy. We get it, you're handsome-"

"What about you?" his cheeks burned as he felt himself getting... Nervous? That's new.

Solomon hoped the darkness wouldn't give him away, "How do you feel about my 'charm'?"

For a second everything stood still and they both came to a stop. Their eyes locked and silence engulfed them. Tension began to claw at both man's braveness, as realisation struck them. This encounter had progressively turned into something more. Not some random thing.

It felt like..

(y/N) averted his gaze, face flushing a bright red as he chuckled nervously. "It... It takes a bit more for me to die, Sol.."

Fate.

"Is that so?", Solomon's fingers interlaced with his as he slowly inched closer.

"I mean.. you could find out..." (y/N)'s eyes slowly closed when-

Strings of colourful magic sparked around them.

"Huh?!" His eyes shot wide open, grip tightening on Solomon's hands, "What-"

(y/N) looked around stunned and extremely surprised.

"So? How was that for a 'magic trick'?"

(y/N)'s gaze returned to face him. "Y-you.. How?"

The sorcerer just hummed. "Who knows?"

"This... Must be a dream then..", he sighed disappointed, a tinge of sadness in his voice, "That's a bummer.. I really like you."

Now it was Solomon's turn to blush.

"I- I understand the confusion, but- mph?!"

With that his lips pressed onto Solomon's.

The sorcerer froze, while (y/N)'s mouth opened a little, slipping his tongue through Solomon's mouth. He tasted like sweet liquor, further entrancing the sorcerer in a passionate kiss.

Solomon got over his shock quickly as his hands found the other's waist, pulling him towards himself. When (y/N) sighed into the kiss, hands burying into his white locks, excitement shot through his spine.

Solomon pressed him against a nearby tree. He grew hot as (y/N)'s soft, wet lips brushed against his, the passion growing with each passing second.

"Mnh hah", (y/N) parted for a second, a string of saliva connecting them, lips barely brushing against his, "This.. feels too real though.."

"Because it is- ", Solomon panted against his mouth, connecting their lips again with more of his own vigor this time. His tongue eagerly brushing over the other's.

God, what was he doing?

What was he doing??

But fuck it felt so good.

He couldn't resist the desire to touch (y/N) more and more. He wanted him closer and it showed.

As if on cue, (y/N)'s hand slid over Solomon's pants, suddenly palming his half hard erection and making him moan into the other's mouth longingly.

"Mnn- (y/N) wait.."

"Mnh? Oh sorry-!", he stopped abruptly.

"N-no I mean... Let's.. let's go to my place-"

"Oh~" (y/N) smiled and kissed him again, teeth pulling at his bottom lip as he parted panting.

"Alright then. Show me the way, wizard-boy~"

[thebeebi]

your little games pt. 12

pairing: Jungkook x reader

warnings: fluff in later chapters, smut, non-con, mention of r*pe attempt, implied murder and many more! Read only if you are okay with these topics!

genre: historical AU, 18th century?

word count: 3k+ [part 12]

a/n: Hello, I am sorry for posting late, but I am trying to learn some coding so I could fix the tumblr themes up to my liking. ALSO huge shout out for people who messaged me a suggested some themes ♥ Love you. ♥ 

taglist: @njrwifey​ @danietoww04​  @kaithezaftig​​ @she-is-dreaming​  [If you want to be added, just let me know :)]

You ran away from the man who tried to take an advantage of you. You stabbed him and escaped. Escaped to the arms of the handsome captain who was even worse than the man you just killed.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Part 11

In the silence, you could hear that Jungkook was back. He was taking off his clothes and the only source of light was the lamp from the outside. He laid down next to you and turned his face towards the door just in case something might happen again and because he could not look at you. It was silent in the room once again and the only thing you could hear was his breath, which started becoming more stable and calm.

Before you could even open your eyes, you heard that it was raining outside. The man lying next to you moved and pulled away the blanket that was covering him. Jungkook sat up at first then stood up. You finally opened your eyes and also hopped out of the bed which got his attention. He frowned while looking at you. “You do not have to wake up yet.” He said tetchily. “I have to take care of a few things and I cannot take you with me.” You opened your mouth in o while nodding. “Are you leaving right away?” You asked timidly since his expression was not the most welcoming you have ever seen. “No. Not right now. Firstly I have to wash up and then eat breakfast.” You looked around the room and then backed away from him. “If you don’t mind, I would rather wake up now.”

“Do whatever you want.” He murmured. “I don’t care.” When the servants from the tavern brought him the warm water into the tub, ha made sure it was the temperature up to his liking. Once they left and you stayed with Jungkook alone once again, he sat down in the tub. It looked like Jungkook was in a bad mood, enjoying the silence. It was too silent that you were scared to even come closer to him and offer him help with washing up. You gathered all of the courage and walked towards him but once you were close, you stood still unable to say a word. You tried to reach for the sponge, that Jungkook was holding, while your hands were shaking. Jungkook looked at you surprised. “What do you want?” He asked annoyed. “A cat got your tongue?”

You took a deep breath before you finally spoke up: “I want… I want to help you to wash up.” Jungkook frowned even more. “You don’t have to.” He spat out. “Go and dress up and if you want, you can eat breakfast with me.” You nervously backed away from the tub and turned to the chair, where you left the dress last night. It was more than evident that he wants nothing to do with you today. You decided to keep your distance for now so you won't make him even more upset with your presence. You decided it would be best to brush your hair. You made your way towards the mirror and started trying to fix the mess with the fingers while Jungkook got out of the tub. He took the towel that was hanging on the chair and wiped the drops that were slowly going down his toned abs. Once you were finished you made your way towards the table but at the same moment, Jungkook turned to you and also walked towards the table to grab the freshly washed white shirt. You quickly moved to the side to let him through, but the action was met with a frown. “You don’t have to be so scared.” He said bitterly. “I won't hurt you.”

You looked down biting your lower lip. “I… I am sorry.” You whispered. “I didn’t want to be in your way.” Jungkook cursed under his nose. “I don’t care if you avoid me or be in my way. I am not planning on beating you for things as your aunt did. I have never hit any woman in my life.” You looked at him unsurely. Should you move or should you stay, where you are right now? Jungkook was trying to tie the ribbon of his shirt in the bow-knot but anger did not help him and he failed to do so. You walked towards him slowly and pushed away his hands from the ribbon. Jungkook was staring at you but you did not look at him back. With the nervously shaking fingers, you tied up his ribbon into an even bow. Then you walked towards the chair and took the coak. You approached him again, wanting to help him put it on but he grabbed it from you. “Let me do it.” He said looking away from you. “You go and brush your hair again with a brush.” You smiled and quickly nodded, running towards his bag to take out the brush. While you were softly caressing your hair, Jungkook walked to you and buttoned up your dress. You thanked him and shyly smiled.

After that, the days flew quickly and it was the day when Jungkook was supposed to take you to the dressmaker to try on the dresses they made so far and to check on the fittings. “Today you are supposed to go and try on the dresses.” Said Jungkook slowly and took a bite of the bread. “I will come to pick you up around 2 in the afternoon. Tell Jimin to ask for the carriage.” When he looked at you, you obediently answered and nodded while taking a sip of coffee. Jungkook was softly caressing your body with his eyes. You always tensed up feeling his eyes on you, but after a while, you relaxed but still blushing a little.

While Jungkook was eating, you were watching him in silence. He was wearing a dark blue coat with a stiff tall collar quilted with a golden stitch. The shirt and the bow were of the bright white colour and you could smell a soft hint of his cologne. He was dressed up perfectly as always and he looked so attractive that all women in the tavern went weak just seeing him breathe. Then you realised he had the same effect on you. It was more than often when you stood still while looking at him. You would keep looking at him but his sudden voice surprised you and you looked down at your bread on the plate. “Yesterday I lost the button on my shirt.” He pushed away the plate from him and wiped the plump lower lip. “I would like you to fix it for me. Jimin is not so good when it comes to these things.” He looked up at you and raised his eyebrows. “I am assuming you would be good at that.” You smiled shyly, glad that he finally asked you to do something. “Stitching is one of the works I enjoy the most. It is the first thing I was taught to become a proper lady.”

“A proper lady…” Murmured Jungkook more for himself than for you to hear. “Excuse me?” You asked warily, not sure if he is going to make fun of you again, not understanding why he would do that after such peaceful days you spent together. Jungkook did not answer but reached for the strand of your hair that was in your face and softly pushed it behind your ear. “I mean nothing by that, little one. I am just thinking about how educated you are in this field.” You thought he was making fun of you but weren’t sure and there was no way to find out.

The door to the tavern opened up and a tall young man entered in, wearing the typical coat that sailors wore. He looked around before his eyes stopped at Jungkook and he made his way towards your table. When he came closer, Jungkook stood up looking at him. “Good morning, sir.” Said the young man in the strange accent you could not identify. He looked at you then bowed while smiling. “Good morning, madam.” Jungkook introduced him to you as Kim Seokjin.  When Jungkook introduced you as his wife, Seokjin showed no sign of surprise. For sure he was told about our marriage. You did not know to what extent and what kind of details he knew but you knew that he knew. When I will be big enough, the crew of Bangtan could count on their fingers and realise that we slept together before marriage. Seokjin’s face was really handsome but you thought that your husband looked better. Seokjin smiled at you brightly. “I am glad to finally meet you, madam.“ You smiled at him and Jungkook asked Seokjin to sit down while he sat down in his chair.

When Jungkook and Seokjin left, you returned to the room. You asked Jimin to bring you a needle with a thread and scissors so you could start working on Jungkook’s button. This kind of work relaxed you a little while you did not even know you needed it. With his shirt in your lap and a baby in your womb, you felt happy and for a moment you felt like a real wife. You stopped working and the calmness disappeared soon enough. Soon you will have to pack your bags and leave the place you called home. The new life you were going to live was still unknown to you. You will be brought to a place full of strangers and your child is going to grow up among them. You weren't sure if you are going to be happy there but only time will tell.

When you finished up the stitching, you folded Jungkook’s shirt and placed it on the table. Jimin brought you a light lunch and then you got ready to leave for the town to see the dressmaker once again. Jimin knocked on the door, telling you that the carriage was downstairs waiting for you. Suddenly you could hear the loud tintinnabulation of the bells in the town centre but Jungkook’s voice was the only thing you could hear. You smiled once you heard the footsteps in front of the room and when he opened the door and looked at you, Jungkook noted. “I see that you are ready.” He did not look as happy as you were once you saw him, he furrowed his brows looking you up and down. “There was nothing to keep me from getting ready” You smiled a bit but quickly looked away unsure if you won't make him upset. He handed you the cloak that was hanging on his forearm. “It is cold outside.” You took it from him. “I think this one will fit you better than mine.” At first, you thought it was another one of his cloaks but when you put it on, you realised it was for women and it looked expensive. You never had such an elegant cloak before, not even when you were living with your father. You run your fingers through the material smiling. “Oh, Jungkook.” You exhaled. “It's so beautiful.” He reached in to button it up, but you were so happy with the present you started turning and spinning smiling at how beautiful it was. You were moving from one side to the other to see it better which caused Jungkook to laugh. “Stay still, my little bunny, so I can button it up.”

You giggled happily and looked down at his fingers that reached for your cloak once again. Since you did not tie up your hair, they fell down and covered your face alongside with the button and the hole Jungkook was trying to find. “Well, now I don’t even see what I am doing,” he lectured you lovingly. You started laughing so hard, you bent backwards letting him help you. Jungkook saw how happy you were with a little present and he was honestly glad he decided to buy you such a surprise gift. His eyes darkened once you touched his chest with your hand smiling. At that moment your eyes met and the touch was electrifying. The moment was interrupted by the horselaugh from the outside and Jungkook pulled his hands away from you. He shook his head as if wanting to get rid of all the sparkly feeling and then he smiled again and reached out his arm to let you wrap yours around it. “Let's go, little one,” you finally laid your hand on his as he continued. “We have to hurry up.”

Mrs Dubois welcomed you in front of her shop and then quickly led you inside, not wasting any minute. “Everything is going smoothly, captain Jeon. We will make dresses on time.”  Jungkook sat down on the offered chair and nodded. “Well done, madam.” The dressmaker then made her way to bring out all kinds of dresses. You walked to Jungkook and turned to him with your back, moving your hair to the front so he could help you unbutton them. His face had a strange expression when he reached up to help you and his fingers were clumsier than usual. You stepped out of the dress and Mrs Dubois helped you into the first one prepared.

“You are really lucky that it’s fashionable right now to have the middle higher.“ Said the dressmaker. “When the middle is so high, you will have no problem wearing this dress even in a few months when you will have a bigger belly. We will keep a bit of fabric inside, so you could cut the mold joint so it would create more room just in case.” Jungkook’s eyes suddenly slid down on his wife’s stomach. Today he forgot about your state and about the circumstances of your marriage. “Do you like the dress, monsieur?”  Jungkook then looked at your body, looking you up and down, not really caring about the pink dress you were wearing and but was covering something he really wanted to see. He murmured something in agreement then looked away. Mrs Dubois kept on putting you in the dresses, asking Jungkook if he liked them and he just always mumbled something as a yes. He moved on the chair while seeing you in the beautiful black dress. He was sweating as he started thinking about how he almost broke his promise a while ago. If the moment in the tavern was not interrupted, he would have thrown away the pride and would let his words mean nothing in a second. If the moment was not interrupted, he would hold you, brought you to the bed and nothing would stop him from making love to you. Now he was painfully aroused and was watching you how you are putting on and off different kinds of dresses. He was battling with himself. His pride and lust were battling and Jungkook was not sure which one was winning.

He frowned and dusted off his coat, wanting to look anywhere but at you. He did not want to look at you anymore. If he did, he would just run to you and would act as some kind of animal. At that moment he would be content with the carriage and privacy it offered. Nothing would help you, not even begging. He was feeling as if his insides were rupturing because he knew it would cause you to hate him even more. To Jungkook, it looked like you were happy with the situation you two were both in and he was worried that you would start playing the game of cat and mouse if he told you that he wanted to make love to you. And who was he really to say anything to you after the first experience you had with him? But he did not want it to be like that again. He did not want you to be scared of him. He wanted to be gentle with you. He wanted to show you how beautiful it could be.

Jungkook was really unlucky. You tried a few more dresses and he was cursing himself inside for actually buying you that many. He was frowning more and more and whenever Mrs Dubois asked him, he would answer even shorter each time. Mrs Dubois just exhaled knowing that he was just like any other men. She thought Jungkook hated the time it took them to try on the dresses. Oh, how wrong she actually was. Jungkook moved to the side on the chair, looking at you briefly thanking God and the dressmaker for finally putting you in the dress that covered your bust. Is she really unaware of what she is doing to me? Even though he promised to himself he is not going to touch you, it did not mean that you in a sating undergarment did not cause him to feel things. It barely covered anything and his mind was already full of images of you without it anyways.

Mrs Dubois helped you into another dress and said something in a quick French. The dress was small around your bust causing it to almost spill over youre breasts. Jungkook started twisting on the chair and was cursing inside. The cold sweat appeared on his forehead and he dug his fingernails into his knees. “Oh, girl! I have to show her the mistake she made.” Mrs Dubois spat out. “Not everyone is as flat as she is.” The dressmaker ran out of the room and you could barely breathe in the dress that was still full of pins. You moved your arm a little but it only caused you to whimper in pain.

“Jungkook, could you, please?” You asked him pitifully. “I feel like as if I were a pin cushion. That girl left there all of the pins she used. I cannot even breathe, they are pricking me.” Jungkook rather unwillingly stood up and walked towards you and put his hand underneath your bust-bodice feeling the warmth of your body. For a second your eyes met and to your surprise, he started blushing. He quickly pulled away his hand as if he was burnt. “You will have to wait for Mrs Dubois.” He spat out. “I cannot do it.” You were surprised by how rough he was. Obviously, he was nervous the whole time he was sitting in the chair, moving around. You nodded silently and looked down. Does he hate seeing me in the dresses? But he bought them… Did I do something?

Chapter 13

a/n: how did you like this chapter??? How long do you think is Jungkook going to be able suppress all of his urges and feelings? ;))))))  If you have any guess and would like to share go ahead :D I know the answer and I am curious if you can get it right :D love you lots ♥ 

[bloodxbat]

(Part 1) Triple W Mafia George x Fem! Y/N series

Warnings: Swearing! that’s it really (unless I've missed something then please let me know)

Word Count: 2,174

Summary:  George Weasley is a renowned Mafia boss who took over from his Father Arthur once he retired, to carry on the Triple W mafia legacy. The only mafia known to be able to keep the Death Eaters (their rival mafia) at bay. However there is one item that they stole from the Triple W’s which George is determined to get back...his mothers necklace, the family heirloom. Y/N Greyback has been forced to comply with the Death Eaters wishes as her family are high up members. What happens when George and Y/N meet? And what happens when they fall in love?

Series Masterlist 

The lights were dim in the what looked like to be an old bar room, the red hue coming from the red lamp shades hitting the walls. Smoke from cigars fogging up the top half of the room barely keeping the floor below visible. At each table there were groups of men, all sitting in perfectly tailored suits, sipping on their glasses of whiskey, laughing and having a good time. At the back of the room however, sat one man, alone. His elbow propped up on the arm of his chair, his finger brushing over his top lip as if he were deep in thought. His other hand held the same glass as every other man in the bar, lazily not caring if it were to fall and smash everywhere.

The man, George Weasley, a tall ginger man who’s eyes were the dark but kind shade of brown. Although seemingly intimidating, George had a kind heart, if he seen someone being attacked or robbed in the street, everyone would end up feeling bad for the attacker by the time George was finished with him. He had no time for the scum who go out of their way to make someone else’s life a living hell in order for them to feel a small, temporary taste for a God complex.

George had only recently taken over the title of the Triple W Mafia Boss, when his father Arthur had decided it was his time to retire and pass over the family ‘business’ to one of his sons. George was one of 6 sons and one daughter within the Weasley family. His identical twin brother Fred was technically supposed to become the next Mafia boss, as he was the older twin. But, he had decided that his brother George was more fit to the job than he was. So, George gratefully took over the role and appointed Fred and his younger brother Ron, to be his sort of ‘Body Guards’ although, of course George was far from needing any form of help when it came to beating or killing a criminal, it was still always good to have a little back up sometimes.

“Hey Georgie, what’s the plan then? What we gonna do about these damn Death Eaters?”

George sat, not moving, deep in thought. ‘What was he going to do about those Death Eaters?’ He has no where to start, the bastards are constantly on the run. He was determined to find their whereabouts however, as they had stolen something very precious to him, his mother’s necklace. The Weasley family heirloom.

-

In a room that was very clearly abandoned and covered in moss and mould, sat groups of men and some women in black cloaks with peculiar pointed hoods. These people, in contrast to that of which the Triple W members, appeared extremely intimidating. The members of Triple W were intimidating,  but these were the sort of people no one would want to encounter in the streets, day or night. There was no smoke from cigars in this small dingy room, there was however and eye watering stench, that was so strong some of the Death Eaters swore they seen a slight foggy green haze floating around the room.

All cloaked members were sitting in a circle all surrounding their leader Tom Riddle, or as he likes to call himself ‘Voldemort’. A tall man (not as tall as George) with black, short curly hair. He wasn’t wearing a cloak like his ‘followers’ but was wearing something that looked more like a bath robe, it was all black of course to fit in with the rest. All were listening in carefully to what he was saying, all apart form Y/N Greyback, daughter of Fenrir Greyback, a man who is considered very high up in the Death Eater mafia. She was sat in the corner, wearing a contrasting blood red dress that hugged all of her curves perfectly. Her Y/H/C hair was curled at the ends in neat ringlets, and she had some makeup on but not too much so she looked ‘dolled up’.

“We all know that the Triple W are cowering out in some fancy old bar, trouble is we don’t know where, I’ve had a few out scouting round the area, unfortunately they have all been caught” Riddle speaks out gesturing and engaging with his followers.

“What do you suggest we do then sir?” Said Fenrir who was sitting right next to where Riddle was parading around the room.

“I say we send out our most valuable member, of course, real them in, make them vulnerable” he smirked

“You don’t mean…”

“Oh yes, but I do, your daughter shall make excellent bate my dear friend, for she wears what Weasley most desires” Riddle finishes

Y/N too busy sat in the corner reading an old book, didn’t even notice that every Death Eater members eyes were on her, all smiling to themselves.

This may actually work, if we send out Y/N who is wearing that incredibly expensive looking, diamond necklace, it may just lure the idiot ginger straight to us” Fenrir laughed.

So their plan was set, send Y/N as bait and hopefully George would follow.

-     George still hadn’t moved from the position he was sat in, he hadn’t taken a single sip of his drink, his eyes focussed and barely ever blinking. He was seemingly ignoring every person who tried to get a word out of him for some sort of plan to take down their Rival mafia. Sure he had killed a lot of spies they had sent out, but he was getting absolutely no leads on where exactly they were coming from, Riddle was smarter than he thought. It seemed he had Death Eaters coming from all over the country in all different directions and disguises. George had to find some way in order to track down where exactly they were based.

The sounds of other members arguing, specifically Fred and Ron who were standing right next to where George was sat, started to sound like a horrible ringing noise, it was driving him insane, how could he concentrate when these buffoon’s were yelling nonsense at each other.

“WILL YOU ALL SHUT UP” He yelled now getting up from his seat and walking to the middle of the smoky room.

“I can’t fucking think when you’re all fighting and arguing with each other on what we’re going to do. I am very aware that those bastards are close to finding us, alright? They’ve gained more members in the past few months than I can count on my two hands. Problem is, they’re coming from all over the country, there is no set direction from where they’re all coming from, meaning that they aren’t coming from their base. This brings us to our next problem, what we’re going to do about it. The only thing I can suggest right now, which I believe may actually be our only two options, is either we leave and find a new base OR we send out multiple people all round the general area of here just outside the boarders of this town where the forests are. Each mile will have two of our members, armed and ready to capture and interrogate anyone that comes from outside the town. This includes anyone who seems innocent to the eye I.e. a mother and child as we all know by now there are families who have been a part of the Death Eaters for years, long enough for them to welcome their children. If you see a mother and child however, you of course don’t attack them straight away, you take them for questioning and more importantly, you look for that damn skull snake monstrosity that they all have tattooed on their left forearm.”

George stands looking between each of his guys trying to gauge what they were thinking by their faces.

“So what’s it to be? Hands up if you think we should move”

No one put their hands up and George smiled knowing that everyone in Triple W are too loyal to the town of Diagon to even consider leaving.

“Good choice boys, now” he rubs his hands together “who’s volunteering to be part of the watch team?”

- Y/N couldn’t believe her ears when she heard the plan to trick Triple W into following her back to the Death Eaters. She also had no idea that the beautiful silver diamond necklace that hung lazily round her neck was the stolen Weasley heirloom.

The actions of her family disgusted her, she knew that what they stood for and what they were doing was wrong, but putting her in harms way all over a stupid rivalry, AND tricking her into thinking that the necklace she had was a gift. She felt so stupid for believing them, Y/N had no options but to accept that she was going to have to go along with their horrendous plan and bait George and other members of Triple W into following her back into her family and Riddle’s evil grasp.

“Perfect” Riddle smiled grimly when Y/N accepted

“But of course, we can’t just lure them in, in one mere night, no, you have to spread this out over the course of a few days. Have him become intrigued by you, follow you a little while. You’ll be staying in a place called the Leaky Cauldron, don’t let him see you in there, it’ll blow your cover. Make sure he only sees you walking through the streets. Got it?”

Y/N tentatively nodded her head

“Good, and then, when the time is right, you’ll lead him straight here. We’ll be in communication with you, don’t let me down”

Y/N shakily made her way to Diagon, bags packed and the necklace still hanging round her neck. She had since changed into a black, silk dress, helping the bright silver of the necklace stand out against the dark colour of her clothes, further, of course to draw George Weasley’s attention.

Once she had settled into her room at the Leaky Cauldron, she was given specific instruction to make sure she wondered round the street at night, as that is most likely when Triple W members will come out from wherever they were hiding.

Y/N took a step out into the cold crisp night air, her heels click clacking off the stone pavements. She couldn’t help but take in the beauty of the town, cobblestone roads winding all through it, the windows on each building slightly askew but somehow didn’t seem out of place. It was as if she were walking through an old victorian town.

Snapping her thoughts back to the task at hand, she pulled her black shawl over her shoulders more and continued to wander aimlessly round, trying to find some form of clue as to were Triple W were hiding.

- George was more than satisfied with the outcome of the meeting they had today. He had 40 people on a list to keep watch each mile surrounding Diagon, meaning that all 20 miles would be covered. They all had their instructions ingrained into their heads and were ready to get to work the next day. Fred and Ron as usual would stay within Diagon with George, communicating to those who were out surrounding the area getting updates and passing round information. George had also decided to send a few extra spies out, including his younger sister Ginny to be on the look out for any Death Eater members who may still be lurking round the town.

George, Fred and Ron made their way out of the old bar room, and onto the streets. George made sure that they each had means of contacting each other. Fred whom George would normally live with, agreed that they each should have their own flats or place to stay in order to cover more of Diagon, and therefore be more accessible to those out in the forest. With their last goodbyes and a few phone calls to book places to stay, the three brothers separated all going in opposite directions.

George headed down the street, his hands becoming slightly red from the cold, and he could see his breath in the air. The dim orange streetlights barely lighting up the path as he walked past the old crooked houses and shops.

Just a George turned the corner he bumped into someone, a woman, dressed in a black dress and shawl.

“Oh I’m so sorry miss, I wasn’t looking where I was going properly, these damn street lights barely light up 2 feet in front of you. Are you alright” George asked looking into her eyes with worry

“I’m perfectly fine, sir, thank you” she smiled back and walked away

But George followed her with his eyes, more specifically he followed her neck, because what was hanging from it made him do a double take. He knew those diamonds from anywhere, they way they glistened brightly in every light. Was that, his mother’s stolen necklace?

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