#joy has a strange mum

[icanttalkimhavingacrisis]

Introduction Post!!!

hi!! lovely to see you - won't you stay awhile?

the basics:

name: Joy, short for Jonathan

age: 18

pronouns: he/she/they

orientation: omnisexual, polyamory

gender identity: genderfluid and pangender!!

timezone: CET (GMT +1)

my tops:

musicians: Twenty One Pilots, Måneskin, Hozier, George Michael, Wham!, Bastille, P!ATD, Tally Hall, My Chemical Romance, The Oh Hellos, The Amazing Devil, Lemon Demon, Kwiat Jabłoni

songs: Lavish, Bourgeoisieses, This is Love, ANARCONNASSE, Too Sweet, Sunlight, Midwest Indigo, Routines in the Night, l'altra dimensione, tous les memes

fandoms: marauders era, the lunar chronicles, the good place, grishaverse (haven't read king of scars yet tho), the cruel prince, some musicals (mainly Hamilton), DDLC, FNAF (I haven't played the games but I do really like the lore and songs), WTNV, AGGGTM, TØP lore

books: the cruel prince trilogy, red white and royal blue, they both die at the end, aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe, the midnight library, six of crows duology, 1984, animal farm

shows/films: the good place, loki, moon knight, the umbrella academy, heartstopper, hazbin hotel, legally blonde, tick, tick, boom!, hamilton, howl's moving castle

Hobbies: writing, reading, cello, painting, writing my own songs, D&D

miscellaneous:

I'm a band kid, I write songs and plays and stories and books ^^

I finished writing a book recently!! You can read it on AO3 here. Let me know if you want a pdf or epub version, I'd be happy to share!!

hogwarts house: slytherin apparently

grisha order: durast

godly parent: Apollo

divergent faction: amity (born candor)

hunger games district: probably eleven

I'm obsessed with Welcome to Night Vale (mountains are fake y'all, they were made up by the government)(although I haven't listened to a lot of it...)(Still love it tho ^^)

I'm absolutely a yapper, and love meeting new people, so feel absolutely free to dm me if you wanna chat!! <3

please consider using tone tags, I dumb as all heck

I have two younger siblings!! A brother and a sister :>

my people:

@andytheoverthinker - husband, partner, beloved boyfriend <3

@evee-refuses-to-die - squirrel extraordinaire, sweetest lil' insomniac

@lyionly - genuinely the most talented artist I know, best bio partner

@bjcf23 - favourite cousin ever <33

@astroocti - my drummer friend :D

mutuals: @erraticprocrastinator-alt @jess-of-all-trades @finnslay @moonysfavoritetoast @cazzythefrogking @chatter-crow @def-not-kaz-brekker @chaosgremlinlivinginyourwalls @waitingonadeathgodtocallmeback @saivamp @lemon-cosmoscollection @gay-for-zoya @agenaroace-a-fucking-disgrace @finleyforevermore @kaithe-enby404 @currently-becoming-potatoes @catinasink @vintagetee13 @clodoveah @ghost-of-a-poet @viago-vamps @ddlcbrainrot @pan-anarcho @gremleyn @discoveredreality @blue-bell-icecream @xrinnihil @artemisiamezzanotte @drifter-gaming @stqrgirl3 @my-castles-crumbling @winters-rose-daughterofcain @elliots1stshadow @daydream-of-a-wallflower @razz-is-queer @blood-slushy @starcrossedmoony @celestialserenity24 @justafanbutcurious @37x3

WAHHHH I LOVE YOU ALL!!! MANY HUGS AND KISSES FROM MOI <333

final section!! my bullshit:

#jonny writes stuff - my writing

#joy has thoughts - I say stuff

#joy on fandoms - anything fandom related

#joy on volleyball - I rant about volleyball I guess?

#joy has a strange mum - about my mother (sometimes I rant, idk what to tell ya--)

#joy on music - anything music related

#joy has friends - about my irls <3

#joy is gay for andy - about my beloved bf

#joy gets asks - I respond to asks!! May take me a while tho-

#the witchy saga - I post about witchcraft apparently

@joywritesbutitsactuallymystories - sideblog where I repost my writing

@prongsiedadeerest - my James Potter rp sideblog

my poems

my novel

my carrd for further contact info!!:

ok lovelies, that's it!! thank you for being here <3

[vampyr-bite]

had an indian with my besties tonight and then we played board games and i just. love them sooooo much i’m walking around with a warm ball of light in my chest i feel so unburdened i have laughed more tonight than i have in the last 6 months combined

[pricegouge]

I’ve been praying for some semblance of stepbrother soap. The thought of you coming home for the holidays or winter break and meeting your dad/mom’s fiancée’s grown ex military son who was medically discharged is soo good. “You know he has a brain injury, you’ll have to excuse him.” they’d reason in a gentle, understanding tone when he leers at you without blinking from behind heavy brows and twitching lashes. “He’s been difficult since coming home, but he likes you!” They’d say when you bring up the way he always hovers around you like a helicopter.

jesus christ, soap who's been battling depression and anger, the misplaced feelings of abandonment, and the general itch in his fingers that's always come with civilian life. he needs a fight or a fuck, doesn't particularly care which order, and can't believe his luck when he finds them both in you.

he was a little annoyed when his da said he was getting a married again. not with the old sod, of course - bout time he'd settled, but with himself, with his vacant chest and his thoughts still running crooked, illegible. he knows he should be excited, but he hasn't felt much of anything ever since waking up on that fucking cot. discomfort, maybe. pain - not unusual, but different. and agitation. short fuse, temperamental. again, not unusual, but here he's got no outlet, at least none that won't land him in a holding cell overnight.

da jokes about him coming home for the holidays. soap smiles placatingly, but he can feel how forced it is. there's no joy in it, the season much more bleak and empty than he remembers it being, back before...

the new wife is lovely, a sweet, plump little woman. he can see why she'd turned the old man's eye, but he can't muster much beyond geniality, sequestering himself to his room more often than not because he knows how he's behaving, he's not stupid. he just can't seem to fix it.

that is, until you breeze in, charming smile, snow in your hair. you smell like crisp cold, oncoming storm, and when he looks out, he sees you've brought one with you, fresh snow finally coating the ground and covering all the messy mud. and just like that, some of the magic has come back into the season.

just as there was no fixing his mood before, there's no helping him now, either. you shy away from him, scared and skittering. snap at him when that doesn't work. da's just happy to see him smiling, refuses to call him to heel. he always worked better under a stern CO.

that first morning you're home is the first time soap's noticed morning birdsong since the accident. doctors had said he'd have some hearing loss, but it's strange how you can't really notice the things you're missing until you don't miss them. he hears it fine now, cuts through the fog of his morning and has him waking with the sun. he even manages a run, though not as intense as what he's been used to. wouldn't want to overdo it, not when he's a reason to heal up okay now.

he presses his luck, finding you in the shower. you shout at him when he enters, insisting he just needs to piss, and then shout for your mum when he doesn't heed your warnings and whips his cock out anyway. he's nothing but polite when she finally comes clucking after him, insisting it was an emergency and he's 'so sorry, mam.' you glower from behind the curtain, pruny finger clutching tight to it. he washes his hands before he goes just to hear you shriek when the water runs hot. your mum just chuckles. 'big brother antics.'

the problem is, really, he seems to be the only one who sees the situation for what it really is. you're not his sister. his sisters are obnoxious little brats, or overbearing hens who drive him up the wall more often than not. you are just a cute little thing, some stranger he doesn't know beyond your pretty face and the cute way you scrunch your nose at him, hiss at him to piss off when your mums not near enough to scold you for being mean. 'it's not right.' but he sees the way your eyes linger when he's sweaty after a run, or how your legs cricket when he looms in your doorway. the guestroom that's sat empty ever since his youngest sister's refused to come by. messy divorce, can't be blamed. he's just surprised da's let you have it. ('well, she's family now.')

if he insists.

he wonders if you'll call him your brother when he's got you under him. gasping and moaning, begging him for sympathy.

is disappointed when you don't.

"though' we were like family?" he grits when you call him soap, reach behind yourself try and pull him closer, deeper. he doesn't let you, keeps you pinned with only his head tugging at your rim. teasing. more antics.

"you are not my brother," you seethe. more vitriol. good, he likes you feisty.

"then why'd ye give me such a hard time? hm?"

you don't even need to think about it. "because you're a fucking weirdo." and that's true, probably. nothing new, even. he's always been intense. but it's never worked for him in the past.

"ah'm no' the one wants to fuck their sibling, hen."

the way your head whips round to glare at him makes him chuckle, your words enough to have him leering, vicious grin.

'well then, what would you call -?'

oh, bonnie. if you just wanted your big brother's cock, that's all you had to say.

[crheativity]

Hello! I'm not sure if you're taking regular requests, but can I request hcs for the Malleus, Deuce, Epel, Ace, and Azul finding out that the reader has a crush on someone from their dorm but it isn't them? The reader actually has a crush on one of the NPCs, and that NPC requites the reader's feelings. How would they react?

It's ok if you don't want to do this also. No pressure

-💀💅

SUMMARY: They find out you have a crush on someone from their dorm… that isn’t them.

WARNINGS: Cut-off swear in Epel’s section, angst D:

NOTES: why must you do this to me. I love these boys sm. how could you do this.

(Also, sorry for the delay D:)

There’s a hole inside of him that can’t be plugged with your friendship anymore. Almost everyone knows something is up - everyone except you. Around you, nothing’s different. He’s the same happy, goofy guy he always is. But the minute you’re not around, the smile fades, the joy is gone. He has zero motivation to do anything. And yet, he’s gotta continue being your friend. You don’t have a whole lot of people here for you. He’ll hide himself until he’s numb if it gives you the support you need.

“…”

He’s calling his mother, in tears, as soon as he gets a moment to himself. He doesn’t know what to do - he’s never really dealt with love before. His mother, fortunately, knows just how to soothe him, and he begins to move forwards and onwards. He distances himself a little out of respect - at least, until it all goes away. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable - especially since he tends to wear his heart on his sleeves. As soon as he can act normal around you again, he will, but please give him the opportunity to move on first.

“Hey, mum? …what do I do?”

He hated himself. Of course it wasn’t him. Of course it was another Octavinelle student. What was he thinking?! It’s just like those kids would tell him - he was slow and chubby and stupid, and that’s not counting the overblot incident, why would someone like you even look at someone like him? Azul isn’t proud of it, but he finds himself looking for dirt on the student. He’s not gonna use it or anything, but he needs some kind of way to cope, and throwing himself into his work seems the best possible course of action. At least, until his silly hopes and dreams stay shoved in the trash can where they belong.

“…those kids were right.”

It’s because he looks like a girl, isn’t it? He KNEW talking to Vil and Rook about this kinda thing was a bad idea - look at where it got him! Now he’s gotta live with the fact that he’s always playin second fiddle with you. Makes sense though - who’d wanna date a girly boy like him? Although, maybe if he proved to you that he’s the better choice, you’d like him instead? Or, maybe he could fistfight that other prissy pomefiore kid. He’s honestly not sure what would help him feel better right now. He feels very uncertain - like the world is both shattering and strangely familiar at the same time.

“I’m gonna beat his a-“

He’s sulking. You’re in love with someone else and he’s sulking. What is he supposed to do now? It’s entirely unfair that you are his everything, his happiest dream, yet he’s barely in yours - at least, not in the way he wants to be. He’s avoiding you for a while, locking himself in his roomm. The rain seems endless, thunder and lightning acting as proof of his bad mood. Sage Island almost floods. Lilia and Silver respect his wishes for you to be around less but think he’s being a bit dramatic.

“Malleus? It’s been storming for weeks now. Can you come out of your room?”

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

This might be too much for you but can I request step dad x reader where you mom has fertility issues and readers mom wants Rafe to breed you 🙏

UNNATURAL

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing(s): step!dad Rafe x Reader, reader!mom x reader

Warnings: SMUT, breeding, pregnancy talk

Summary: Your mum asks Rafe to breed you

Masterlist

Sitting on the edge of your bed, the weight of your mother's request heavy on your shoulders, you feel torn between conflicting emotions. On one hand, you can't bear the thought of disappointing the woman who's been there for you through thick and thin, the one person who's always had your back for the past 21 years. But on the other hand, the gravity of what she's asking you to do is almost too much to comprehend.

You run a hand through your hair, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. This decision isn't one to be taken lightly—it's a choice that will shape the course of your future in ways you can't even begin to imagine.

With a heavy sigh, you close your eyes and try to focus on the facts. Surrogacy is a deeply personal and complex process, one that involves not just your physical well-being, but your emotional and psychological health as well. And to do it for your own mother, with Rafe as the father... it's a scenario straight out of a nightmare.

But as you weigh the pros and cons, you can't shake the feeling that there's more at stake here than just your own future. Your mother's longing for another child of her own is palpable, a desperate plea for fulfilment that tugs at your heartstrings. The weight of your mother's struggle with fertility weighs heavily on your heart as you grapple with the decision before you. 

You've seen firsthand the toll it's taken on her—the countless doctor's appointments, the disappointment with each failed attempt, the longing in her eyes every time she sees a young child.

For years, she's been trying to conceive another baby, hoping to fill the void. But despite her unwavering determination and countless efforts, the reality of her fertility issues has remained a bitter pill to swallow.

===

With a heavy heart and a sense of resignation, you come to a decision: you'll say yes to your mother's request. Despite the unease and uncertainty swirling within you, you can't bear the thought of letting her down, of denying her the chance to have another child.

“Mum, I have thought long and hard about this and I have to a decision. I’ll do it.” As you utter the words, a weight lifts from your shoulders, replaced by a strange mix of relief and apprehension.

You know that this decision will change your life in ways you can't even begin to imagine, but for now, you push those thoughts to the back of your mind, focusing instead on the task at hand.

Your mother's face lights up with joy and gratitude as you confirm your agreement, her eyes shining with unshed tears. In that moment, you can't help but feel a twinge of guilt for the doubt and hesitation you harboured just moments before. After all, this is what she's been dreaming of for years—the chance to expand her family and experience the joy of motherhood once more.

Your mother's excitement is palpable, her joy contagious as she envelops you in a tight embrace. "OMG honey, I'm so happy," she squeals, her voice filled with unbridled enthusiasm. "I can't wait to tell Rafe."

You offer her a weak smile, trying to match her enthusiasm despite the knot of unease that's settled in the pit of your stomach. "I'm happy too, Mom," you murmur, though the words ring hollow in your own ears.

As she pulls away, your mother's eyes sparkle with anticipation. "I want to get started straight away," she declares, already reaching for her phone. "I'll text Rafe and tell him we're on for tonight."

Your heart lurches at the mention of tonight, your mind reeling with confusion. "Wait, what? Tonight?" you echo, the words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them. "Isn't the doctor's office closed?"

Your mother pauses, a puzzled expression flickering across her features. "Y/n, we're not going to the doctor's," she explains gently, as if speaking to a child. "We're doing it naturally, for the best results. I thought you knew that."

A chill runs down your spine at her words, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. 

You hadn't realised that her plan involved bypassing medical professionals altogether, relying instead on... what? Luck? Chance? The whims of fate?

The reality of the situation hits you like a ton of bricks, and suddenly, the gravity of your decision becomes all too real. You're about to embark on a journey that could change your life forever, all in the name of fulfilling your mother's dreams.

“Mum, I’ve never you know” you say trying to make her understand without actually saying it. “What honey?“ she asks generally confused. “You know……..had sex before!” Your cheeks blush with embarrassment.

“Oh, honey thats okay. I’ll make sure Rafe takes good care of you.” She says placing her hand on your knee to assure you. You nod, still a bit hesitant. But still willing to do this for your mother, no matter uncomfortable this situation is going to get.

“Great, and don’t worry, you don’t have to any of that threeplay most people do” she smiles, “ewww mum, and btw its foreplay.” You say trying to hid you smirk.

===

That night your mum ushers you towards the bathroom, her voice soft and reassuring. "Go on, honey. Take a nice warm bath and relax. Rafe will be here soon, and I want you to be feeling your best when he arrives."

As you sink into the soothing embrace of the hot water, the cares of the world seem to melt away, replaced by a sense of calm and tranquility. As you soak in the tub, lost in your thoughts and the gentle rhythm of the water, you can't help but feel a sense of anticipation building in your chest.

Just as your about to unplug the bath, you hear someone open the bathroom door. “Hey Y/n, it’s just Rafe. Your mum left for a few hours, to give us some time, so you didn’t feel like you were being waited on.”

Startled by the sudden intrusion, you sit up in the bathtub, water sloshing around you as you turn to see Rafe standing in the doorway. "Hey, Rafe," you greet him, your voice filled with genuine affection. "Thanks for letting me know."

As he steps further into the room, you can't help but feel butterflies in your chest. Rafe walks forward and sits across from you. Breaking the silence, Rafe reaches out to take your hand in his, his touch gentle yet firm.

The connection sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you, igniting a fire within that threatens to consume you both. “Your mum mentioned that this is your first time and I wanted to let you know, I’m going to take really good care you.” 

Just as your about to speak, his hand slides down your thigh, gently pushing your legs open. Your breath hitches as his fingers find you clit, rubbing tiny circles in it. You legs fall to the sides of the bathtub, letting him move his hand and rest it on you. Soft moans escape your lips as you feel a knot forming in your stomach, a band ready to snap. 

Rafe fastens his pace and rubs harder into my bud, something snaps inside me and I feel a gush of liquid spill out of me. He removes his hand and grabs the towel from the wall handing it to me. “Wrap it around you and go and wait on the bed for me, I’m just going to have a quick shower.” 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I heard the soft creak of the door opening, and my heart skipped a beat. Slowly, Rafe stepped into the room, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he moved forwards, grabbing your arms gently and helping you rise to your feet. He leaned in and started peppering kisses down your neck and collarbone, he undid your towel and let it drop to the floor. Standing their absolutely nude felt weird and uncharted as this was the man that you mum loves. 

He twisted you around and pulled you flush against his chest, you felt the bulge behind your butt. His hands roamed your body, one of his hands grabbing at your left boob, squeezing and massaging the hard bud. His other hand reached down and massaged your clit again, although this time you were wetter.

“So wet for daddy huh!” he whispered. Rubbing faster and faster, my breath hitched and loud moans escaped my lips, “Get on the bed………on your hands and knees” He said in an dominant voice, regathering yourself, you pulled your legs into position.

He dropped his towel and his huge cock sprung up spilling pre cum on his chest. Wiping it off his abs with his fingers he placed the cum on your entrance. The feeling of his fingers spreading around your hole was a something you never thought would feel so good.

Stroking himself faster, you felt a harsh smack on you ass, making you flinch, the sting on the red hand print made you even wetter, so you pushed yourself back against his cock.

“You like being spanked by daddy, don’t you?” Rafe said giving you another slap. “Answer me” He yelled, grabbing my hair and tugging on it, 

“Yes” 

“Yes what?”

“Yes daddy”

Letting go of your hair he laid beside you “Your mum said no foreplay, but seeing you here now, I just can’t help myself” he explained, running his hand over your lower back.

“Hop on top, and face my cock. I want you to suck on it.” He said smirking, you remembered what your mum said about their not being any foreplay, so you were hesitant about doing it.

“Hurry up, or I’ll fuck you hard” He commanded. Jumping onto his chest, he pushed your head down on to his cock, you took him in your mouth only half fitting due to how big we was, you used your hand to compensate your mouth for the rest of him.

Bobbing your head up and down at a fast pace made you wetter by the minute. Suddenly you felt his tongue licking all around your entrance and his nose rubbing against your clit, the sensation made you go faster and grind down on his face.

Feeling his cock start to grow bigger, you felt the band ready to snap inside you. And just like that you squirted all over his tongue and you felt his hot cum ropes down your throat.

Out of breath you fell to the side, wiping your mouth you looked at Rafe as he hovered over you, grabbing his length his pushed in, you dug your nails into his bicep at the stretch, you breath stopping a second to adjust to him. “Relax” he said pushing himself in deeper, rubbing at your clit, you relaxed more and was able to push all the way in. The stretch was insane, it was mix of pain and pleasure, more so pleasure when he started to rock his hips. 

Feeling his length pull out than back in sent your eyes rolling back, he quickened his pace, lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder, all while still pounding into your dripping cunt.

You were taking him so well and squeezing around him, your body telling him that you were close, was enough to give him the adrenaline boost he needed, picking up speed as he fucked you deeper into the mattress. 

“fuck-” you breathed out. “Daddy, i’m-”

“you wanna cum?” he asked, his fingers now digging into the soft skin on your hips as he held himself up. 

“mhm..” you moaned out. 

“come on then. be a good girl and ask daddy.” his eyes met yours, almost causing you to come undone immediately. His eyes were now black and a thin sheen of sweat covered his skin, his hair to his forehead. 

“Daddy, please!” 

“yeah, come on, sweetheart. Make a mess all over my dick like the slut you are.”

And make a mess you did. Your back arched off the bed, toes curling as you screwed your eyes shut. 

“Look at me while you’re cumming so you know it’s your daddy who’s making you feel this good. Me, my dick, that’s ruining this tight pussy.”

You opened your eyes and held eye contact with rafe as he fucked you out of your high and into his. He let out a string of breathy “fuck”s and “Y/n”s as he released thick ropes of cum into you. Once rafe finally rode out his orgasm, he pulled out of you and flopped onto the bed beside you.

Catching your breath, you laid still until Rafe left the bed and walked into the bathroom, he came back into the room with a washcloth “I’ve never seen anyone squirt as many times as you’ve had. Not even your mother can. Just between me and you, I prefer you over your mother” laughing at his own statement. You made an awkward smile, while he wiped you down. 

1 Week Later

“Mum I’m Pregnant” "Oh, Y/n,” your mum exclaimed, her voice filled with emotion. "I can't believe it! You're going to be our surrogate! This is the most incredible gift anyone could ever give us."

Her words washed over you like a wave of warmth, enveloping you in a cocoon of love and gratitude. With tears of happiness streaming down your cheeks, you wrapped your arms around your mom, holding her tightly. "I love you so much, Mom," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I'm so grateful to be able to do this for you."

"Can't wait to fuck the mother of my child again" Rafe whispers, hugging me from behind.

Part 2

🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆

[rhiannonsknife]

We need protective Rhiannon after reader has just given birth😮‍💨😮‍💨 Rhiannon being over protective of your little bundle of joy. Always claiming the baby as her own. It reminds me of that trend “what do you say if a girl comes up to you and says oh my gosh your baby is so cute”. “Thank you she looks like her mother” 😭😭 but Rhiannon being a mum and acting all sweet and so uncharacteristically herself.

this is for you + the other anon who requested pregnant!reader. let it be known that i have never been pregnant and don’t plan on getting pregnant anytime soon. so. there’s that. bear with me here.

rhiannon who’s slightly over preparing.

she is a strange mix of being over-prepared and pretending she’s totally chill (which she is not). she’s researching all the weird facts about labor and delivery but plays it off like she’s not been secretly reading pregnancy forums in her spare time: one minute she’s lounging on the couch with tink sprawled across her lap, scrolling on her phone like she couldn’t care less, and the next, she’s blurting out some bizarre pregnancy fact. you’d raised an eyebrow at her then, resting a hand on your growing belly. “wait…are you actually reading pregnancy forums?” her reply comes way too quick: “no!” she insists, firmly shaking her head.

“oh but you totally are,” you tease, grinning as you lean against the kitchen counter. “i’m not!” rhiannon denies, sitting up straighter and holding up her phone like it is some kind of evidence. “look! no pregnancy apps or whatever” you just narrowed your eyes, unimpressed. “you just closed the tab, didn’t you?”

rhiannon who obviously gets even more protective when you’re pregnant.

that woman is taking no risks whatsoever. every little thing is a potential threat to your peace of mind as far as she’s concerned, and she refuses to let anything or anyone upset you. “was that really necessary?” you whisper at her after she’s snapped at one of your colleagues for giving unwanted pregnancy advice. “absolutely” rhiannon instantly replies as she settles down beside you, still side eyeing said coworker from across the office. you roll your eyes affectionately. “you know i can handle a little unsolicited advice, right?”

“yeah, but why should you have to?” she counters, resting a hand gently on your belly, her fingers tracing small, soothing circles. the baby gives a little kick in response, and rhiannon’s face softens.“see?” she says, leaning down to press a kiss to your bump. “even the baby agrees with me!”

rhiannon who will drop everything for you the minute you mention needing something.

she might tease you for “milking the pregnancy cravings”, but if you so much as mention wanting something, rhiannon is already grabbing her car keys or figuring out how to make it happen. “excuse me, i’m growing a human over here. i think i’ve earned a little indulgence” you tell her one night. “fine. maybe i am a little bossy. but i could really go for some milkshake and fries right now”

“at midnight?” she asks, glancing at the clock on the wall. “you’re unbelievable…what flavor milkshake do you want?”

by the time she’s back, balancing a bag of fries in one hand and a cup holder with two milkshakes in the other (she got herself one, of course: solidarity), you’re curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over you. “here’s your midnight feast,” she announces, placing the bag and drinks down on the coffee table before flopping down beside you.

rhiannon who gets uncharacteristically soft.

your pregnancy hasn’t changed her much. or at least that’s what she claims. fortunately, you know better: there’s a softness to her now that definitely wasn’t there before. like this one morning when you were standing by the kitchen counter, pouring yourself a cup of tea. you can sense her presence before you see her, the soft sound of her footsteps and the slight creak of the floorboard.

“morning,” you mumble without turning around, smiling to yourself as you feel rhiannon approach. “morning,” she murmurs back, unusually quiet.

before you can say anything else, you feel her arms slide around your waist from behind, her hands resting on the curve of your belly. it’s not unusual for rhiannon to be touchy with you, but there’s an almost odd gentleness to the way she holds you now. you feel her press a kiss to the back of your neck, and then, to your surprise, she kneels down. “rhee?” you ask, finally turning around to glance down at her.

rhiannon doesn’t answer right away, her lips brushing your skin. “don’t give your mum too much trouble in there, yeah?” she whispers against your bump. you blink, momentarily stunned. “did you just…” you trail off, trying to suppress a grin. “don’t,” she cuts in quickly, already standing up again. “don’t make it a thing!”

“oh, but it is a thing,” you tease, turning to face her fully. “you imagined it,” she says flatly, crossing her arms. “sure, sure,” you say, your grin widening. “i imagined the part where you talked to the baby and kissed my belly”

“exactly,” she nods. you step closer, reaching up to cup her face with one hand. “you’re allowed to be sweet, you know,” you tell her gently, gaze dropping to her mouth. “i won’t tell anyone. promise” rhiannon rolls her eyes, but her expression does soften, her arms uncrossing as she rests her hands on your hips. “fine,” she mutters. “but if you start telling people i’ve gone soft, i’m blaming the baby”

rhiannon who is on guard the second your baby is born.

the moment your baby is placed in your arms, she is practically vibrating with protective energy. “she’s so small,” rhiannon whispers, as she peers over your shoulder to get a better look. her fingers brush the baby’s tiny hand, and for a second, she looks utterly mesmerized. when a nurse steps forward to check the baby, and her entire body instantly stiffens. “what are you doing?” she asks, her tone sharp despite her attempt to keep calm.

the nurse offers an assuring smile. “just making sure everything’s okay” rhiannon narrows her eyes, clearly not entirely convinced but doesn’t argue. instead, she stays close, watching every movement like a hawk.

later, when friends and family start to arrive, the real protective side comes out. the moment someone leans in too close without asking, she steps in front of them. “rhee, it’s fine,” you say gently, though you can’t help but smile at her intensity. “fine? they didn’t even ask,” she argues, her eyes darting to the would-be baby holder.

someone eventually does gather the courage to ask, “can i hold her?” rhiannon crosses her arms and tilts her head. “did you wash your hands?” the person falters. “uh…not yet”

“yeah, go do that,” rhiannon says flatly, jerking her head toward the sink. “then maybe we’ll talk”

“rhee, you’re scaring people,” you tease, adjusting the baby in your arms. “good,” she says with zero hesitation.

rhiannon who gets so soft with the baby.

rhiannon had never been one for softness. it wasn’t that she was cruel (only occasionally and only with people who really deserved it), just always rather guarded. most people don’t normally get close to her, and she likes it that way. but when your daughter is born, something inside her shifts: now, here she is, sitting beside you on the couch, her eyes soft as she cradles the baby in her arms. your daughter, wrapped snugly in a blanket, makes tiny movements, her little fists curling and uncurling against rhiannon’s chest.

“hi there,” she murmurs gently, her index finger gently caressing the infant’s closed fist. “yeah, you’re going to give us hell someday, aren’t you? but not yet. right now, you’re just my perfect little girl. aren’t you? hmm?”

the baby lets out a tiny gurgle, and rhiannon chuckles softly, her whole face lighting up in a way that makes your heart ache. “you don’t understand a word i’m saying, do you?” she says, smiling down at her. “but that’s okay. you don’t need to understand. I’ll tell you every day how loved you are until you do” rhiannon, who always acted like she could take or leave the whole “parenthood” thing when you first brought it up, has transformed completely: the woman who used to swear she didn’t have a maternal bone in her body now looks like she’d go to war for your baby.

rhiannon who insists on doing the share of late-night baby duties.

“i got this, love” she mumbles, even though it’s your turn. “you’re barely keeping your eyes open” you try to protest, but it’s no use, rhiannon is already getting out of bed. “i can take the next shift,” you murmur, voice low and raspy from exhaustion. “nonsense, i’ll take care of her tonight,” she insists. “you just rest”

you know she’s right, rationally speaking, but you also know how much she’s been working lately, how much she’s been doing. you give in, nodding weakly as you lean back into the pillows. “you sure you’re okay with this?” you ask quietly, watching as rhiannon gently rocks your baby back and forth, whispering soft, calming words. she looks over her shoulder at you with a half-smile. “of course, i’m sure!”

rhiannon who falls even more in love with you whenever she watches you and your daughter together.

from her spot in the doorway, she watches you sway gently, cradling your baby in your arms. the little one fusses, her tiny face scrunching up, and you murmur something too soft for rhiannon to hear. it only takes a moment for the baby to settle, her eyes fluttering closed as her body goes limp in your arms. “how long are you going to stand there staring at me like a creep?” you ask playfully without needing to look up.

“until you tell me to stop,” she shoots back, but there’s no edge to her tone at all. the truth is that the sight of you with the baby is enough to stop rhiannon in her tracks every single time. she crosses her arms, her gaze lingering on the soft curve of your smile as you adjust the baby in your arms. “you’re disgustingly good at that, you know?”

“at what?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you glance over at her.

“being a mom“

you laugh quietly, careful not to startle the baby. “takes one to know one”

rhiannon scoffs, but there’s no real bite to it. “i don’t think rocking her at 3am because she won’t stop crying qualifies me for any awards”

“sure it does,” you reply, your smile softening as you meet her eyes. “you’re amazing with her, rhee”

[whorediaries-09]

sweater weather;

pairing- roommate!sirius black x reader warning(s)- fluff, some silly banter, tad bit suggestive. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- aghhh just a brain rot 😞🤍. also this whole series is so self indulgent 🤭

masterlist of 'the seven lives;' series

the slut club

and now, so let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater

he doesn’t like cats.

much to his dismay, you’re bending down and cooing at the little kitten that curls up against your ankle. it has got soft blue eyes which reflect innocence. you run your fingers through its black fur, picking the small animal up. he likes the soft smile on your face. it fills his chest with a warm fuzzy feeling he can’t explain. neither can he explain why his heart skips a few beats when he notices the twinkling in your eyes. it almost makes him drown into a frenzy of warmth.

‘can we keep her?’ you ask. there’s something in your voice that sends sparks of electricity down his spine. it’s as if he’s known you his whole life. he doesn’t want to say no, but he can’t help it. he digs the edge of his boot on the loose gravel of the path. twirling around the loops grocery packet between his fingers, he whispers, scared to let the joy in your eyes leave.

‘no,’ he tries to predict your reaction, but fails to. surely the joy in your eyes melts, but the hope doesn’t. from what he knows about you, he knows you’re a stubborn person who stands their ground. you always get your way around in some way or the other. but you’re also a people pleaser. you hate it when you’ve to truly go against somebody’s wishes to do something you want.

so, he watches as you wrap the little kitten between the folds flannel you’re wearing. there’s a mischievous glint in your eyes, a small smirk between the curve of your smile. it’s the same one you wear when you read something mildly suggestive in your books.

‘please, sirius,’ you drawl. the kitten mewls from the folds of the fabric, her eyes glinting the same mischief as yours do. he feels his breath palpitate when you move closer, putting the face of the kitten closer to his.

‘look she wants to come with us too, that’s why she’s mewing,’ you justify. he gulps slowly, his barrier of rigidity slowly breaking. he feels his thoughts melt when he stares at your lips. even though he’s never touched them before, he suddenly thinks he knows them. he feels he can carve every shape, every curve of your body with his eyes closed.

‘okay,’ he gulps. you squeal, a quiet sound from your lips.

he thinks it’s melody to his ears.

*-

‘sirius!’ you shout across the room. your kitten, binx, is curled across your chest, purring away silently as you rub your fingers through her fur. you’re laying down, your feet thrown across the sofa, letting the nail paint on your toes dry. the mild winter allows a soft sunbeam to peek through the windows.

‘what?’ he asks, coming out of his door. he has nothing but a towel wrapped around his narrow waist. several tattoos are inked upon his porcelain skin with happy trail on his abdomen which traces down, leaving less to imagination. his hair is wet and droplets of water trace down his defined pectorals. while you’d been living with him for nearly 8 months now, you’d definitely never seen him shirtless. it makes your chest fill with a strange warmth. it makes your brain short circuit for a moment when he smiles, walking towards you.

‘like what you see?’ he teases, wiggling his eyebrow. you gulp slowly, before you regain your composure.

‘i can’t hear you over the loud music,’ you say, getting up. binx falls on your lap, and she scratches your arms with her nails.

‘hey hey, calm down little woman!’ sirius says, noticing her scratching you. he takes her into her arms, her little paws trying to scratch at a surface.

‘don’t do that to your mum,’ he says, looking into her eyes. she stops fidgeting for a bit, before she mews loudly throwing her paws on his chest and leaving a long scratch across it. it digs deep into his skin, letting out blood.

‘binx! you naughty menace!’ you scold as she scurries off, jumping from sirius’ hold.

‘asshole,’ he murmurs, grasping his wound.

‘i’ll patch it up for you,’ you say.

*-

‘do you trust me?’ you ask, holding the cotton soaked with the antiseptic with a pair of tweezers. you’re standing in between his thighs. he’s wearing nothing but grey sweatpants, being overly dramatic for the scratch on his chest. while you think it’s adorable, you’re sure it’s just for the shits and giggles.

‘i do, but i feel like I shouldn’t?’ he answers, grinning mischievously. he likes your form between his legs he thinks. it makes him go feral, you looking down at him while you fix his wounds. it makes his imagination go wild. the idea of you touching him while he’s half naked thrills something inside his stomach.

you slap him across his shoulder. it’s a soft playful blow and he laughs. his hands suddenly grip your waist, as he pulls you closer, almost mushing his face with your breasts. he watches the breath get stuck on your throat, as you wet your lip, tongue slowly darting out over your lower lips. you’re unconsciously leaning over his face, soaking the cotton ball into his blood.

he sneers as a soft burning pain grows, and his fingers dig deeper into your waist. you unconsciously arch your hips towards him, your hands falling on shoulder. the tension grows, and the heartbeats palpitate between the both of you. there’s a look of dreaminess in your eyes he’s never seen before. he thinks it makes him weak in the knees. you trail your fingernail on a tattoo, before rubbing the antiseptic on his wound.

your breaths are ragged when you finally close his wound with a patch. your job was done, you’d move away. you should move away. but his touch burns into your soul, but it isn’t enough. it feels familiar on your skin, yet so unfamiliar. you lean closer unconsciously as if from muscle memory. you cradle his face, your noses rubbing-

a loud noise of shattering glass distracts you. you pull apart, a flustered look on your face. heat occupies your skin as you crumble into a shell of embarrassment. he lets go of your waist, and you stutter,

‘binx- the little fucking minx-‘you say, before you run off.

*-

you’re carrying a cup of coffee in your hand, running late for your job. a piece of toast hangs from your lips, and you’re running around the house, trying to find your tie.

‘you can wear mineeeee,’ sirius drawls, closing the battered copy of ‘the picture of dorian gray’.

‘i could if you gave it to me!’ you shout, swallowing the last piece of the butter smothered bread.

‘you’ve a nice swallow game, i see,’ he muses. you groan, gulping down the last bit of your bitter coffee.

‘that’s a really bad one!’ you say, tucking your shirt into your trousers. screaming internally, you realize you can’t find your belt either. sirius enters his room, seemingly searching for his tie.

‘can you give me a belt too?’ you ask, hurrying off behind him. binx runs in front of your feet, and in an attempt to not fall on her, you fall on the floor with a thump, followed by sirius who trips on you.

his locks tickle your face, his grey eyes staring into yours with an intensity which reminds you a memory you never had. it’s a minor flash, something of a haze like dream, but you remember it so clearly. your breathing rages, hotness searing through you as his scent and warmth looms over you. there’s a glint in his eyes you can’t decipher, but your memory has it engrained. as if you’ve seen it a thousand times.

‘i like it when you’re under me,’ he whispers. it’s a low rasp, one you’ve never heard before, yet it ignites something in you.

something that excites you.

*-

he’s fleeing when he receives your call. your voice was a timid whisper when you’d called him, laced with fear. he hated it, he hated how it sounded. but when he arrives at the bar, he finds you completely safe, surrounded by your friends. you’re chatting happily, your skin flushed with the alcohol that renders through your body. he’s perplexed, till one of your friends spot him. she bats her eyelashes at you, whistling as he walks towards you.

‘what happened?’ he asks. he holds your fingers, gripping them tight. he’s trying to read through your emotions. he’s trying to read you through the happy smile and shining eyes. but he’s too distracted by how happy you look.

‘it wasz a prankh!’ you cheer happily, your drunk state rendering your words.

‘seriously?’ he asks, rolling his eyes. he’s smiling, he can’t help it. you laugh,

‘yess!’ you try to stand up, but trip on your heels instead. he holds you closer, letting you support your weight on him.

‘you’ve had too much to drink,’ he scolds. you gaze at him happily, your hormones getting the best of you.

‘i know!’ you exclaim, feeling the collywobbles consume you as his scent tantalizes into your senses.

‘don’t you think we should leave?’ he asks.

‘should we?’

‘yes,’ he says, pulling you closer. his fingers dig into your skin, feeling your touch. it calms his nerves. still, he needs to hold you closer, to feel you, to know you’re safe.

‘okay i’ll go. will you take me home?’ you ask, an innocence provoked in your voice. he feels himself melt, scarring him and his memories.

‘i’ll do. i’ll always take you home.’

*-

the stars are shining bright on the dark sky. you’ve his leather jacket wrapped around your form, as he holds you close. you reek of alcohol, but he doesn’t mind it. it’s infused distinctly with your perfume, and he finds his comfort in it.

‘hi,’ you say, wrapping your arm across his waist, pulling him closer. he presses a kiss on your hair, breathing you in. it’s perplexing, the burning emotions you let flee in his chest. the warmth he feels with your presence.

‘hi,’ he whispers back. there’s a glazed look in your eyes. he knows it. he remembers it. it reflects him, and he feels as if there’s no one in the world but you and him. his heart beats raggedly, and he’s afraid it’ll pop out of his chest, when you lean closer to him, pressing a soft kiss on his jaw.

‘you’re so beautiful,’ you say, snuggling against him. your heels click against the loose gravel of the path. it’s a moment of softness he wants to cherish forever.

‘but you’re hurting me…so much. i wish i could kiss you. i wish i could hold you like this forever. i wish i could keep you close with me, just for me,’ you ramble.

‘then why don’t you?’ he asks, his fingers cradling your jaw.

‘you’ll kiss me?’ he looks down at you, his eyes scanning your features. the cold air waves over your hair, and he holds your face between his hands. his fingers ghost over your lips. you lean into his hand, as he presses a soft peck on your chin.

‘i’ll do, when you’re sober,’ he promises.

*********************************

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking (if you want to be tagged please reply under this post!)

[vun3r4b13xwrites]

‘The squaffice’, a marauders office au

Here is the intro to my series of oneshots. you don’t have to read them in order because it’s not exactly a linear storyline but read this before you go any further.

James ‘Boss man’ Potter ~ regional Manager and newly elected boss after regulus found himself ‘at a higher level’ to do it himself, Sirius turned it down, obviously.

This is the second proper job he’s had after his career as a a shopkeeper in south London in his desi-family owned off license corner shop, in which he was often referred to as ‘boss man’ which highly boosted his ego.

• Loud, confident, and forever distracted by trying to charm Lily Evans (don’t worry Jegulus fans, your time will come ;))

• His “work” consists mostly of organizing friendly office football matches and brainstorming business fundraisers with Sirius Black.

• Ends every team meeting with: “Good work, team! Also, if anyone wants a lift I have a four seater”…

Lily Evans ~ receptionist and sales rep also office plant mum who only ever gets the bus… She passes calls through and is great at dealing with prank callers for peter.

• Hyper-organized, the glue holding the office together.

• Rolling her eyes at James is her cardio. Secretly, she’s kind of charmed by his persistence but plays hard to get.

• Frequently breaks up fights between Barty and Evan

Sirius ‘padfoot’ Black ~ Receptionist who had the chance to be boss. Given the nickname padfoot after complaints of black grubby dog-like fingerprints on a few cheques.

• Self-appointed “coolest person in the office.” Spends more time twirling in his chair or gossiping with Pandora Lovegood than actually answering calls.

• Known for loudly announcing people’s arrival with dramatic flair.

• Has an ongoing tally of how many pranks he and James have pulled on Snape (the IT guy).

Remus ‘MooDy’ Lupin ~ HR Manager, nicknamed moody because of his chronic fatigue syndrome that makes him exceptionally grumpy . His caffeine addiction caused insomnia which is NOT a great mix. His mobility issues caused by this resulted in Sirius begging regulus to buy an office elavator but he said it was for ‘visitors’ because they are on the 8th floor. Remus said he didn’t have to do that, but Sirius wanted to. He was very greatful.

• The tired, overqualified guy who’s always cleaning up everyone’s messes.

• Quietly enjoys the chaos but will threaten to “fire everyone” when things get too wild.

• Secretly keeps snacks in his drawer for when Pandora Lovegood shows up with questionable coffee.

* has a coffee addiction

Peter ‘perpetually-emotional’ Pettigrew ~Call Handler. far to good at people pleasing and is way too nice in customer service. watched 'the wolf of wall street' one too many times and decided to go for the job.

• Stressed. Always stressed. He’s the one fielding angry calls from clients while the rest of the office wreaks havoc.

• Has a love-hate relationship with Sirius for putting him on hold just to piss people off.

• sometimes joins in pranks, but always claims innocence when they’re discovered.

Pandora Lovegood love-food ~ Coffee Delivery Intern. Finds joy in bringing other people the least ordered and most unusual things off the local bakery menu. everyone plays it safe and only asks for a black coffee, which of course, she more than provides.

• Ethereal and sweet, she delivers coffee and weird, unsolicited advice (“The printer works better if you hum to it”).

• Nobody knows if she actually works for the blacks or if she just shows up with drinks and snacks.

• Once replaced the office coffee with a herbal “energy tonic” that made everyone overly honest for a day.

Evan Rosier & Barty Crouch Jr. ~ salesmen and Marketing Duo. to them, everything is a two man job; paper from the printer, presentations. they made a 'jingle' for the company.

• pranksters who spend more time sabotaging each other than doing actual work.

• Barty keeps switching Evan’s PowerPoint presentations to cat memes.

• Strangely productive when they work together, which they’ll deny at all costs.

Severus Snape ~ IT Guy

• Lives in the server room to avoid everyone.

• unwillingly fixes James and Sirius’s computers when they “accidentally” download virus software.

• Secretly has a soft spot for Lily but refuses to admit it.

• “Have you tried turning it off and on again?”

Dorcas Meadowes ~ Legal Advisor and CEO. Very on top of the workload and NEVER passes a deadline. She’s just sick of everyone and takes this job WAY to seriously.

• The sharp, no-nonsense lawyer of the office who somehow manages to keep everyone out of lawsuits despite the chaos.

• Known for her deadpan humor and ability to outwit James and Sirius during brainstorming sessions.

• Has a soft spot for Remus, often sneaking him extra coffee when the pranks go too far.

•. “I’m not bailing you out again. Unless it’s hilarious.”

Regulus Black ~ Head finance organiser and corporate manager. Sirius’s younger brother, but the complete opposite in demeanor: quiet, serious, and always impeccably dressed in the best designer suits. For some reason I think he might have a Birkin.

• His spreadsheets are a work of art, but he spends most of his time glaring at Sirius for sneaking into his office to “borrow” paperclips.

• Secretly competitive with his brother and subtly tries to one-up him in office-wide challenges.

• Has an unlikely alliance with Lily, who respects his professionalism.

Marlene McKinnon ~ Head of quality control (and party planning) the angry lesbian who was put in charge of online security because of her terrible anger issues that made her extremely intimidating (but also her unusually amazing ability to cyberbully)

• The unofficial referee of office drama.

• Once organized an office karaoke night that devolved into chaos when Sirius refused to give up the microphone.

• Has a low tolerance for nonsense from Barty and Evan and will “accidentally” lock them in the supply closet for peace and quiet.

• Has a dartboard with a picture of Barty and Evan for stress relief.

Mary Macdonald ~ Communications Manager and accountant. the chattiest person in the office, often caught up gossiping with Sirius. Everyone relies on her to speak for them.

Often drags Lily into her schemes to help her and Marlene decorate the office for holidays or coordinate surprise parties.

• Secretly loves the drama between James and Lily and occasionally encourages James just to see Lily blush.

• A mediator during office spats, she’s always quick to defuse tension with humor.

I am taking requests and dms if you want anymore details or explanations but I am mainly working on some oneshots so pls tell me what to write 🙏🙏🥲

[movingmusically]

Caught Feeling - Epilogue

Synopsis:

Y/N and Hank find themselves celebrating Christmas in San Francisco, welcomed into his family’s holiday traditions. As Y/N experiences the warmth of Hank’s childhood home, it’s clear how much their bond has grown. Together, they find comfort in the idea of a future—one that feels like home, no matter where they are.

Author’s Note:

This was meant to be a short chapter with a small time skip to finish the story, but it’s ended up being the longest of all. I’m sure I could have edited it down a bit more but I got carried away.

Thank you so much for reading Caught Feeling! It’s the first time I’ve tried writing anything, and I’ve loved every moment of creating these characters and sharing their journey. I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Word Count: 10,074

Masterlist

The flight from New York had been long but filled with a quiet excitement that buzzed between us. As we touched down in San Francisco, I felt a thrill of anticipation mingled with a hint of nerves. Hank stayed close, his fingers laced with mine, grounding me with each reassuring squeeze. The crisp air of the city greeted us as we stepped out of the airport, the warmth of California in December an unfamiliar contrast to the biting chill I was used to back in New York.

We collected our bags and made our way to the hire car I’d arranged in advance. I slid behind the wheel, adjusting to the slight strangeness of being in control after so long, and Hank settled in beside me, a relaxed smile playing on his lips as he reached over to rest a comforting hand on my knee. It was my turn to be the steady one, to navigate this last leg of the journey as he leaned back, gazing out at the passing scenery with a look that was equal parts nostalgic and contemplative.

The streets wound up gently toward his parents’ neighbourhood, a mix of towering palms and cheerful holiday decorations adorning the houses we passed. I couldn’t help but marvel at the unfamiliar sight of Christmas lights twinkling against green lawns, rather than snow-covered streets. It felt surreal—this warmth, this different version of December. Part of me missed the chill of New York, the way it made everything feel more festive, but there was a charm to this as well, a reminder that Christmas could feel like home in more than one way.

Finally, as we approached his parents’ house, my nerves prickled again. Hank must have sensed it, because he reached for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “They’re going to love you,” he murmured, his voice filled with that calm assurance I’d come to trust.

Before we even had a chance to knock, the door swung open, and there was his mum, her face lighting up with pure joy at the sight of us. She stepped forward, arms wide open, and pulled Hank into a warm hug before turning to me, her expression radiating a welcome that eased the last of my nerves.

“And you must be Y/N!” she said, her voice full of warmth. She pulled me into a hug that felt instantly comforting, like I was already part of this family.

As she stepped back, Hank’s dad appeared behind her, his smile steady and welcoming. He shook my hand firmly, then clapped Hank on the back with a look of approval that seemed to speak volumes. “Welcome to our home,” he said, his tone genuine and kind.

Inside, the air was filled with the scent of fresh pine and cinnamon, the rooms cozy and inviting with festive touches everywhere—garlands winding up the banister, stockings hanging by the fireplace, and a scattering of old family photos that gave me a glimpse of Hank as a kid. Seeing him in those snapshots—grinning with a gap-toothed smile, his hair bleached from the summer sun—made me feel like I was peeking into a world I’d only heard about before now.

As we stepped further into the house, Hank’s mum moved about with an eager, warm energy, pointing out little mementos and details that made this house a true home. “See this?” she said, pausing by a shelf that displayed a neat row of snow globes. “Henry used to collect these when he was little. Every family trip, we had to find a new one. I think he even tried to convince us once that a trip to the grocery store counted, just so he could get another one.”

Hank let out a groan, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was ten, Ma”

She waved a hand, undeterred. “You were persistent! And then there’s this…” She pointed to a photo on the wall of a much younger Hank, arms stretched wide, grinning from ear to ear with a front tooth missing, standing in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. His dad stood behind him, hands resting on Hank’s shoulders with an expression of fatherly pride, and his mum, laughing beside them, had her arm wrapped around both.

“Look at that smile,” I teased, nudging him gently. “Future heartbreaker right there.”

Hank rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked into a smile. “I’m sure the missing tooth really did it for the girls.”

His mum chuckled, resting her hand on my shoulder. “Oh, don’t let him fool you. He had the girls at school bringing him cookies every week. Thought I wouldn’t notice how fast he went through his lunch money.”

“Ma…” Hank muttered, his cheeks flushing faintly. He glanced at me, clearly torn between embarrassment and amusement.

“Oh, he’d get so flustered when they’d show up at the door with little love notes!” she continued, her eyes bright with nostalgia. “One Valentine’s Day, I remember finding a whole pile of them stuffed into his backpack.”

His dad chuckled from behind us, crossing his arms with a knowing grin. “And he claimed they were ‘extra homework,’ if you can believe it.”

Hank laughed, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe they were revealing all this. “Can we maybe not expose every embarrassing thing I did before age sixteen?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Henry,” his mum said with a wink, “I’m saving the truly good ones for later.”

After we’d settled in and had a delicious dinner filled with laughter and more tales of Hank’s misadventures, his mum brought out a large, well-loved box marked “Christmas” in faded handwriting. “How about a bit of tree decorating?” she suggested, smiling as she handed us each an ornament to start.

I took the small, glittery reindeer she’d handed me, noting its slightly lopsided antler. “Did you make this one?” I asked Hank, holding it up to him with a grin.

He nodded, groaning with an exaggerated sigh. “Fourth Grade art class. I thought glitter was the answer to everything.”

“Well, it’s adorable,” I said, carefully placing it on a branch near the front.

As we continued to unwrap each ornament, his mum handed me a small baseball bat ornament with Hank’s name painted in neat, blocky letters. “This one’s from the first season he played in the local league,” she explained. “We were so proud of him, running the bases with such determination… until he tripped and ended up with a black eye,” she added, laughing.

Hank covered his face with one hand, trying not to laugh. “Why do you remember every single one of my injuries?”

“Because, love,” his mum replied, brushing a hand over his shoulder, “I was the one with the ice packs, the Band-Aids, and the endless worrying. And besides,” she added, glancing at me with a conspiratorial smile, “I knew someday these stories would come in handy.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, feeling warmth settle over me as I looked between them. This was Hank’s history, his foundation, and being here, hearing these stories, felt like getting to know him all over again. It was a privilege, one that I held with a quiet reverence.

As we hung the last few ornaments, Hank’s mum handed me a small, carefully wrapped package. “I have something for you, too,” she said, her voice soft.

I unwrapped it slowly, finding a hand-carved wooden heart painted with delicate floral designs. My breath caught, and I looked up, my eyes meeting hers.

“This is beautiful,” I murmured, touched beyond words.

She smiled, resting her hand on my arm. “Every year, we add a new ornament that represents someone important to us. This year, we thought it was time we added you.”

The gesture rendered me momentarily speechless, a rush of emotion welling up in my chest. I turned to Hank, who was watching with that familiar warmth in his eyes, a look that held both pride and affection.

“Thank you,” I whispered, unable to keep the emotion from my voice. I found a spot on the tree for the heart, carefully hanging it on a branch where it could catch the light. I felt Hank’s hand on my back, steadying me, and I glanced over, catching his gaze.

“Looks perfect,” he murmured, his voice soft.

As we finished decorating, Hank’s dad turned on the Christmas lights, casting a soft glow that made the ornaments sparkle, each one reflecting the memories they held. We all stood back, admiring the tree, and I felt Hank’s arm slip around my waist, pulling me close.

“Welcome to the family, Y/N,” his mum said warmly, reaching over to squeeze my hand. Her words settled over me like a blanket, wrapping me in warmth, and in that moment, I felt something profound—a sense of belonging that I hadn’t quite realised I was searching for.

And as we all stood there, the soft hum of a Christmas song filling the room, I looked up at Hank, my heart full. This was his family, his life, and now, I was part of it too.

After a cosy evening with Hank’s family, we nestled together on the sofa in the living room, the soft glow of the fireplace and the twinkling Christmas tree lights creating a warm, quiet space. Hank rested his arm along the back of the sofa, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on my shoulder as I pulled out my phone to video call my family, the anticipation of seeing their familiar faces making my heart flutter. Hank tightened his arm around me, giving me a reassuring squeeze as I hit the call button.

It didn’t take long for the screen to fill with everyone’s faces—Mum front and centre, Dean and Viki leaning in on one side, Barry on the other, and Shaun and Meg squeezing into the frame from the back, each one of them grinning widely. Just seeing them all together brought a flood of warmth, a piece of home I hadn’t realised I’d missed so much.

“Hey! There they are!” Mum said, her voice full of holiday cheer. “Merry Christmas, you two!”

“Merry Christmas!” we chorused back.

Viki waved, giving us a warm smile. “You two look very cosy over there. Not missing the chaos, are you, Y/N?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Oh, I don’t know… I heard there’s a serious Lord of the Rings Trivial Pursuit gap without me there to answer all the obscure questions.”

Shaun groaned dramatically, giving me a mock glare. “You’ve abandoned us, Y/N! You know we’re struggling without you.”

Mum raised her hands in mock innocence. “Hey, I don’t make the rules! I’m just saying, it’s been a struggle without our trivia queen here… Hank, you’d better be prepared next year. We could use another brain in the game!”

Meg snickered, chiming in, “Yeah, Nan’s barely keeping up. We need all the help we can get!”

Hank chuckled, glancing at me with a glint in his eye. “I’ll be ready, I promise. Y/N’s been preparing me with her endless Tolkien trivia.”

Dean raised his glass, grinning. “You’d better be prepared for more than just trivia, Hank. We’ve got a monopoly champion to defend and Articulate to play. Y/N’s been our reigning champ, but she’s already warned us you might give her a run for her money.”

I shot Hank a teasing look, nudging him gently. “Guess I’ll have to step up my game.”

Viki chimed in with a laugh. “And make sure you’re ready for Mum’s endless spread of food. She’s been feeding us as if we’re preparing for a winter famine.”

Barry leaned in, raising an eyebrow. “Just make sure to bring an appetite, Hank. Mum’s Christmas dinners aren’t for the faint-hearted.”

Meg nudged Barry with a grin. “And don’t worry, we’ll make sure you’re on our team for Cards Against Humanity.”

The laughter that filled the room was infectious, Hank fitting so seamlessly into the banter that it felt like he’d been part of this tradition all along. The camera panned around to show the spread of food on the table, so much that it could easily feed twice their number. I shook my head, a mixture of exasperation and fondness welling up inside me.

Hank smiled down at me, his arm tightening slightly as he murmured, “You’ve got a pretty incredible family, you know that?”

I nodded, my heart swelling. “I do. And now they’re stuck with you too.”

Barry leaned closer to the screen, giving Hank a mock-serious look. “Just remember, Hank, if you mess with her, you’re dealing with all of us.”

“Oh, stop it, Barry,” Viki laughed, swatting him playfully. “We’re just glad Y/N’s got someone who makes her smile like that.”

As we wrapped up the call, Dean raised his glass one last time, grinning. “Merry Christmas, guys. See you soon—hope you’re ready for next year!”

We ended the call, and I nestled closer to Hank, feeling a beautiful mix of warmth and contentment as my two worlds had, for the first time, truly intertwined.

As the night drew to a close, and the house settled into a comfortable silence, Hank and I made our way to the guest room, which I quickly realised had once been his bedroom. Though redecorated, I could still feel the lingering essence of his teenage years—a mix of nostalgia and a faint trace of rebellion that seemed to cling to the walls. It wasn’t hard to imagine younger Hank here, the boy with the gap-toothed grin and a heart full of dreams.

“So,” I began with a grin, glancing around at the now-muted colours and neatly arranged furniture. “This is where you had all those boy band posters, right? Somehow, I can just picture it… you, listening to their music, practising your moves in the mirror.”

Hank let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Listen, everyone had a boy band phase. And I’ll have you know I nailed those moves.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” I replied, smirking as I pictured a young Hank, probably with a slightly awkward haircut and way too much enthusiasm, doing his best boy band impression. I took in the room around us, letting my mind wander through a version of him I’d never known. A thought nudged at me, and I gave him a sidelong glance, trying to hold back a playful smile.

“You know,” I said slowly, leaning against the desk, “you already told me you’d have noticed me back then… so tell me, how would you have gotten me in here?”

Hank raised an eyebrow, folding his arms with a casual confidence that was slightly undone by the amused glint in his eyes. “Well,” he said slowly, leaning against the door frame, “I’d probably come up with some excuse. Like needing help with a biology assignment or something. Just enough to get you to come over, but not too obvious.”

“Ah,” I replied, nodding as if considering the scenario. “And I’d be the quiet girl who was half-convinced you didn’t even know I existed. So when you asked me to help, I’d probably agree and then spend the entire time overthinking every single thing.”

He laughed softly, stepping a bit closer. “And maybe I’d be sitting there, acting like I didn’t notice how nervous you were. Trying to think of something smooth to say but ending up just staring at my textbook.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to leave you hanging with your grades,” I replied, shooting him a coy smile as I made my way over to the bed, sitting down cross-legged and mimicking the studious expression of someone who took their biology assignments very seriously. “Let’s see… we should probably start with DNA replication, right?”

A glint of amusement crossed his face as he took in what I was doing, his eyes narrowing slightly in a mix of challenge and delight. Hank wandered over, taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside me, his posture just shy enough to fit the role but with an undercurrent of something else—like a hidden anticipation.

“Right… DNA replication,” he murmured, glancing down as if he really was trying to piece together the assignment. “To be honest, I’d probably be way too distracted to actually learn anything.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m here to help you focus,” I replied, keeping my tone lightly teasing as I pretended to flip through an imaginary textbook, keeping one eye on him as he settled into the character, playing the slightly shy, endearing athlete who’d asked for help but was really hoping for more than just study notes.

We exchanged a glance, both of us holding back smiles as we leaned into the roles. There was a charged undercurrent in the air, a shared understanding that we were toeing the line between the playful and the thrilling, caught up in this little fantasy we were building together. And as he settled beside me, our knees just barely brushing, it felt like we’d created our own private world—one where anticipation simmered just beneath the surface, waiting to unfold.

I watched Hank’s face as I tried to explain the basics of DNA replication, and it was clear he was already lost. His brow furrowed, and he had this slightly blank look, like he was genuinely trying but couldn’t make heads or tails of it. I stifled a laugh, realising that my usual approach wasn’t going to cut it.

“Alright, let’s try something different,” I said, scooting a bit closer on the bed. “Think of it like… baseball.”

He perked up, interest sparking in his eyes. “I’m listening.”

“Okay,” I began, giving him a small, encouraging smile. “Imagine DNA as the team’s playbook. It holds all the instructions the cell needs to function, just like a playbook has all the strategies for a game.”

He nodded, still looking at me a bit skeptically but clearly trying to follow along.

“So, DNA replication is kind of like making extra copies of the playbook,” I continued. “You’d need multiple copies so every player on the team is on the same page. In a cell, each new cell needs its own full set of DNA instructions to work properly.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Okay, I think I get that part.”

Encouraged, I went on. “Now, think of DNA polymerase as the pitcher. Its job is to add new bases to create the second strand, like a pitcher throwing to different players on the field.”

I could see him focusing harder, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he tried to keep up. “Alright…”

“And the runner is like the replicated strand,” I explained, warming up to the analogy. “When the runner starts, they’re the original strand, but they’re guiding the new strand to ‘bases’ until the replication is complete. It keeps the game moving, ensuring that the DNA copy is accurate and ready for the next ‘game’—or, in this case, the next cell division.”

Hank gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “So… it’s like… every base has its playbook, and everyone’s following along to keep the game from falling apart?”

“Exactly!” I said, unable to hide my excitement at his breakthrough. “And any mistakes in DNA replication are like fouls in the game—if something goes wrong, it messes up the whole play.”

He let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, I think I get it. Sort of. But only because you somehow made it about baseball.” He leaned in, his expression softening, and I could feel the playful energy between us shifting slightly. “You’re actually really good at this, you know?”

“Well, I’ve had some practice,” I replied, trying to play it cool. But something about the way he was looking at me, that warm, appreciative gaze, made my pulse quicken.

We held each other’s eyes for a moment, and I felt a blush creeping up my neck. He was still sitting close, our knees brushing, and for a split second, I was fully lost in the moment, imagining what it would have been like if we’d really been teenagers, sitting here, caught up in this kind of nervous, thrilling closeness.

Clearing my throat, I tried to steer us back into character, flipping an imaginary page in my pretend textbook. “So, um… now that you understand DNA replication, I guess we should… review it again? Just to be thorough, of course.”

Hank caught onto my tone instantly, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he leaned closer. “Of course,” he murmured, his voice low, matching my playfully serious tone. “Wouldn’t want to miss any details.”

The air between us felt charged, our little fantasy blurring into something more, and I could feel my heart racing as he settled even closer beside me, his knee pressing gently against mine.

I tried to stifle a laugh as Hank scratched the back of his neck, looking up at me with the kind of earnestness that felt so out of character for him, it was almost adorable.

“So, uh… DNA replication, right?” he asked, his brow furrowing in mock concentration, though his gaze kept drifting to my waist, lingering a beat longer than necessary on the sliver of skin between my top and skirt.

“Exactly,” I replied, crossing my arms to keep up the facade of a serious study session, though I could feel my lips twitching, dangerously close to breaking into a smile. “Think of it like… you’re the DNA polymerase—the key player here. You’re adding new bases, making sure each base pairs with its partner.”

His eyes flicked up to meet mine, and I could see the glint of amusement hiding there, despite his best efforts. “Okay, okay… so I’m, what? The main guy keeping everything in line?”

I leaned in a little, keeping my voice low, as if I were explaining something top-secret. “Exactly. Without you, the whole replication process would fall apart.” I tapped a finger against his shoulder playfully. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a tone that made me feel as though we were teetering on the edge of something more. He shifted, and his knee brushed mine again, the touch sending a little thrill up my spine. But I kept my cool, giving him a look that said, Nice try.

“And just so we’re clear,” I continued, pretending to flip an imaginary page in our “textbook,” “if anything goes wrong in this process, it could mess up the whole ‘game’—it’s your responsibility to keep everything in order.”

“Oh, no pressure, then,” he replied, his voice dipping into something soft, something almost challenging, as his gaze settled on me again. “Good thing I’ve got such a… dedicated tutor.” He was close enough now that I could feel his breath, the warmth of it sending little sparks along my skin. His tone was still teasing, but his eyes had softened, that familiar warmth deepening into something that made my heart stumble.

I tried to steer us back, keeping my voice steady even as I felt the charged energy building between us. “Well, don’t think this means you’re off the hook,” I managed, trying to hold onto the last shreds of our playful act. “I expect you to actually learn something here, Hank.”

He leaned a little closer, his hand coming to rest on my knee, his fingers brushing against the fabric in a way that sent a shiver through me. “Oh, I’m learning a lot,” he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent, and suddenly, I was the one forgetting where we’d left off in our “lesson.”

My pulse quickened as his hand drifted a little higher, settling at my waist, his thumb tracing a slow, steady line along the edge of my top. His gaze held mine, filled with that warm intensity I’d come to know, yet right now, it felt heightened, amplified by the thrill of this little game we were playing.

He leaned in, his lips just a breath away, and his voice softened as he said, “Think you could give me a little… extra credit?”

The playful edge to his tone made me laugh, even as my heart pounded against my ribs. “That depends,” I replied, voice barely a whisper, feeling as though we were standing on the brink of something new, something that had been building between us since the moment we met.

For a moment, we stayed there, caught between teasing and something deeper, something almost inevitable. And then, slowly, he closed the distance, his lips meeting mine in a way that felt both familiar and entirely fresh—like a first kiss all over again. The room faded away, and all I could feel was him, the warmth of his hand at my waist, the gentle pressure of his lips against mine as we sank further into each other, the rest of the world forgotten.

We stayed wrapped up in the moment, leaning into the fantasy that we were two teenagers, stealing a kiss on the edge of something thrilling and new. There was an innocence to it, a softness, as if we were both trying to channel the nerves and curiosity of a first crush. The tension simmered beneath the surface, charged by the awareness that, despite the pretence, we both knew each other so much more deeply.

His lips brushed mine with a tentative, almost hesitant touch, like he was figuring out what I liked, even though we both knew he’d long since mastered that. But we stayed in character, letting the kiss build slowly, sweetly, as if we were figuring each other out for the very first time. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss just a fraction, and I could feel him smiling against my lips, like he was enjoying the challenge of holding back, of letting this fantasy play out.

I pulled back just a little, a grin tugging at my lips. “You’re really committed to this biology tutoring session, aren’t you?”

He chuckled softly, and I could see the spark of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well, you know… I heard the tutor was kind of cute. Thought I might get a little extra help if I showed interest.” His fingers traced a light, teasing line down my arm, his touch just shy enough to fit the role of the slightly nervous high schooler.

“Oh, so that’s what this is,” I replied, arching a brow, though I could feel the warmth of his hand radiating through me, the real connection simmering beneath the surface of our act. “Just trying to sweet-talk the tutor?”

He looked away, feigning a shy smile that I knew all too well was part of the role. “Maybe… if she doesn’t mind.” His gaze flicked back to mine, and there was something there, a playful glint mixed with genuine warmth, making me feel like we were perfectly balanced between make-believe and something real.

I bit my lip, playing along, letting my voice dip into a softer tone. “Well, I suppose I could be convinced… if you keep up the good work.” I leaned in, brushing my lips against his again, feeling his hand settle more confidently on my waist, the touch grounding us even as we danced around the edges of this little fantasy.

His fingers tightened slightly, as if he was losing himself in the moment, and I felt the same. It was intoxicating, letting ourselves pretend this was something brand new, even though we both knew the comfort and depth that had already grown between us. And yet, somehow, that made it even sweeter—the thrill of rediscovering each other as if for the first time, layered with everything we knew and loved about each other.

When he pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, he let out a soft laugh. “You know, if this were high school, I’d probably be way too nervous to actually go through with this.”

I smiled, keeping my voice low, as if we really were sneaking around, just shy of being caught. “Good thing it’s just role-play, then. This time, you’re allowed to be a little brave.”

He grinned, his thumb brushing along my waist in a way that made my pulse jump. “Good thing,” he murmured, his voice soft, playful, but with that edge of sincerity that reminded me we weren’t just acting.

The shift was subtle, almost imperceptible, but I felt it—a tension slipping through, breaking the thin barrier of our little game. His fingers traced a slow, deliberate line along my waist, his touch a little firmer, no longer holding back as much. The playful air that had hung between us melted, replaced by something deeper, something that had been simmering just beneath the surface all along.

I looked up at him, and the glint of amusement in his eyes had softened, replaced by an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. We weren’t pretending anymore, and we both knew it.

“Hank…” I whispered, the name barely a breath, filled with a meaning I couldn’t quite put into words. His hand slid up, cupping my face, his thumb brushing along my cheek in a way that felt so achingly familiar, yet electric, as if it was the first time all over again.

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice low, rough around the edges, like he was just as caught up in this as I was. His gaze held mine, unwavering, and I could feel my heart pounding, every beat echoing through me, pulling me closer to him, grounding me in the moment.

I couldn’t keep up the act, couldn’t pretend this was just another game. My hands slid up his arms, feeling the strength beneath my fingertips, tracing the lines of someone I knew so well, yet felt like I was discovering anew. And in that moment, I didn’t care about the pretence, didn’t care about anything beyond the warmth of him, the way his presence filled every inch of the room, of me.

Without a word, he leaned in, capturing my lips in a kiss that was anything but tentative. It was deep, real, filled with an urgency that stole the breath from my lungs. His hand slipped to the small of my back, pulling me closer until there wasn’t an inch between us, until I could feel the steady, reassuring beat of his heart, grounding me even as it sent a thrill through every nerve.

My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer. His hands roamed over me, familiar yet thrilling, like he was rediscovering every inch, every curve. The playful pretence was long gone, replaced by something raw, something that felt like it had been waiting to break free all along.

We were lost in each other, in the quiet intensity that had always been there, simmering beneath the surface. His lips trailed down my neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, and I felt myself arch into him, my body responding instinctively, surrendering to the moment, to him.

With a surge of confidence, I pushed him back, and he fell onto the edge of the bed, his eyes lighting up with a spark of surprise that quickly turned into something darker, something full of intent. Before I could even process the thrill of taking the lead, his hands gripped my waist, steady and sure, and he shifted us, turning me so that I was lying beneath him, his body hovering over mine, a quiet challenge in his gaze.

For a moment, he held himself there, his weight balanced just enough that I felt his presence without feeling trapped, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. His fingers brushed along my sides, tracing a slow, steady path down, sending a trail of warmth that lingered long after his touch moved on.

And then, his hands reached the hem of my skirt, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric with a deliberateness that made my pulse race. His touch was firm but unhurried, like he wanted to savour every second, each moment stretching out between us, charged and electric. He kept his gaze on mine, a silent question passing between us as he eased the skirt up, his hands travelling along the bare skin of my calves, then thighs, his fingers warm and grounding.

I could feel every inch of his touch as he lifted the fabric higher, his grip tightening slightly as his hands moved, the air between us thickening with each passing second. The deliberate pace, the way he held himself above me, exuding both strength and gentleness, was enough to make me lose myself entirely.

His lips brushed against my jaw, then drifted down, trailing heat along my neck, his breath warm against my skin. He paused, hovering just at the curve of my shoulder, his fingers tracing small, languid circles along the top of my thigh, as if teasing us both, drawing out the moment until the tension felt like it could snap.

I arched into him, my hands finding their way to his back, gripping him, urging him closer, needing more of him, every inch. And he responded, his hands slipping just a bit higher, his touch grounding me even as it made me feel weightless, our breaths mingling, each beat of my heart thrumming in rhythm with his.

Hank’s hands slid down to the edge of my skirt, fingers grazing the soft fabric before slipping beneath, tracing a line along my thighs. His touch was deliberate, his movements slow as he lifted the skirt higher, exposing more skin with each gentle push of his hands. I could feel the warmth of his breath close to my neck, his lips barely an inch away as his fingers brushed over the thin fabric of my panties, lingering just for a second before he hooked his thumbs under the waistband.

Our eyes met, and there was a flash of something playful in his gaze, softened by the intensity that simmered beneath. He tugged my panties down slowly, his hands steady as he slipped them off, his touch lingering on my legs as he pulled them past my knees and then let the fabric fall away. His gaze flicked down, and a slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he noticed the tell-tale dampness that had already formed on the fabric.

His smirk deepened as he held up my panties, glancing at the damp spot with that familiar glint in his eyes. “Looks like someone was already waiting for this,” he murmured, his voice rough and teasing.

I bit my lip, feeling a rush of heat under his gaze, but I wasn’t about to let him have all the fun. “You could say I was prepared,” I shot back, my tone equally playful, daring, as I reached up and tugged him closer by the collar of his shirt. “And here you are, taking your sweet time.”

That did it. His smirk faded into something darker, more intense, and his eyes narrowed slightly, as though I’d just issued a challenge he was more than ready to accept. He tossed the panties aside without another thought, his hands sliding up to grip my waist, firm and possessive, holding me in place as his gaze swept over me, taking in every inch with a hunger that made my skin flush.

“Taking my time?” he echoed, his voice low, rough with a promise that made my pulse skip. “Guess I’ll have to make up for that.”

He leaned in, capturing my lips in a kiss that was fierce, unrestrained, all pretence and patience gone, replaced by a need that bordered on desperation. He gripped the hem of my top, tugging it up and over my head in one swift motion, discarding it carelessly to the floor. I barely had time to catch my breath before his fingers slipped beneath my bra strap, pushing it off my shoulder with a roughness that sent a thrill through me, his movements no longer restrained.

He leaned in, his lips brushing along my collarbone, his hands settling on my hips and pulling me flush against him. I could feel the heat of him, his heart beating hard through the fabric of his shirt, and it was enough to make me feel dizzy with need. My hands found the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward, and he lifted his arms just enough for me to pull it over his head, tossing it aside as I let my hands roam over his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under my fingertips.

He let out a low, satisfied sound as I traced my hands along the hard lines of his torso, my fingers gliding over his skin, feeling the warmth radiating beneath. As I ventured lower, my touch met the trail of hair starting just below his navel, leading down in a way that was both enticing and grounding, a subtle invitation that left my own pulse racing. The roughness of his breath against my neck told me I was driving him just as wild, his chest rising and falling beneath my touch, each shallow inhale and exhale a silent testament to the restraint he was barely holding onto. It was intoxicating, knowing that every small movement, every lingering touch, was unraveling him in the same way he was unraveling me.

I matched his intensity, my hands moving to the waistband of his jeans, fingers working quickly to undo the button, and he shifted just enough to help me push them down, the denim sliding to the floor. As he kicked them off, he pulled me close again, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that was raw, full of the need we’d been holding back for too long.

My hand slipped down, feeling the heat and hardness of him straining through his boxers. I pressed my palm against him, feeling the dampness at the tip, the evidence of his desire sending a thrill through me. He let out a low, rough sound that made my pulse race, his hips pushing into my hand, silently asking for more.

I couldn’t resist a teasing smile, looking up at him as I whispered, “Guess I’m not the only one who was waiting.”

His answering grin was dark, his gaze full of intent that left no doubt about where this was heading. “You have no idea,” he murmured, his voice thick with need.

In one swift movement, he pushed my skirt higher, fingers hooking under the remaining fabric and freeing me completely. With his hands still tracing up my thighs, he paused, his gaze flicking to mine for a heartbeat before he leaned down, his lips trailing a path from my collarbone downward, his touch both reverent and filled with raw hunger.

His mouth found my breast, lips brushing over the sensitive skin, his breath warm as he began to press slow, deliberate kisses along the curve, igniting every nerve in its wake. His hand slipped around, cupping me, his thumb grazing over the peak, making me shiver as he took his time, letting the anticipation build.

When his lips finally closed around my nipple, a gasp escaped me, my back arching into him, the sensation sending a shock of pleasure straight through me. He flicked his tongue over the sensitive skin, slow and teasing, before sucking gently, his gaze lifting to meet mine with a dark intensity that left me breathless. The roughness of his stubble against my skin, paired with the warmth of his mouth, was almost too much, every touch stoking the fire that had been building between us.

His free hand moved down, tracing along my waist before he shifted slightly, pressing himself closer, the hardness of him through his boxers a reminder of just how far gone we both were. My hand slipped down instinctively, feeling him again through the fabric, harder now, the dampness at the tip that sent another thrill through me.

“Don’t stop,” I murmured, barely able to form words, lost in the feel of him, in the way his mouth and hands moved over me, each touch leaving me aching for more. His lips moved to my other breast, giving it the same devoted attention, sucking and teasing until I felt like I might come undone.

With a low groan, he finally leaned back, his hands slipping to the waistband of his boxers. He gave me a look that was both a question and a promise, his gaze locked on mine as he tugged them down, finally freeing himself completely. The sight of him above me, every inch bare and unrestrained, sent a shiver through me, my body responding instinctively, every nerve alive with the anticipation of what was to come.

My hand drifted down, wrapping around him, feeling the warmth and hardness beneath my fingers. He let out a quiet, shuddering breath, his hips pressing forward instinctively, responding to my touch. I stroked him slowly, savouring the weight of him, the way he fit so perfectly against my hand, each movement building a rhythm that left us both breathless.

I leaned up, capturing his mouth in a soft, lingering kiss, feeling the heat radiating between us as our bodies moved closer, all pretence gone. Without a word, I turned, giving him a playful glance over my shoulder as I bent forward, resting on my hands, inviting him. The air between us thickened, charged with anticipation, and I felt my heart race as he positioned himself behind me, his hands firm on my hips, steadying us both.

I could feel the wetness between my thighs, the undeniable evidence of my need, and when he moved, pressing himself against me, his hardness was almost overwhelming, grounding me in the intensity of the moment. He entered me slowly, filling me in a way that made me gasp, my hands gripping the sheets as we both adjusted to the closeness, the perfect, electrifying fit.

For a moment, we stayed still, caught in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Then he leaned forward, his chest pressing against my back as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me up so we were both on our knees, our bodies fitting together seamlessly. His mouth found the curve of my neck, his lips trailing soft kisses along my skin, making me shiver as he began to move, each thrust slow and deliberate, drawing us both deeper into the moment.

One of his hands found my breast, his fingers brushing over my nipple, sending a surge of pleasure through me as he continued to kiss my neck, his breath hot and unsteady against my skin. His other hand drifted lower, fingers grazing the sensitive spot between my thighs, adding another layer to the intensity building between us.

“Keep quiet,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, a teasing edge in his tone as his fingers continued their deliberate movements, each touch leaving me feeling more unraveled, more vulnerable in the best possible way. I bit my lip, trying to stifle a moan, my breath shaky as I leaned back against his chest, feeling the steady, grounding beat of his heart against my back.

Then he paused, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to my shoulder. I felt him shift, his hands guiding me as he turned me around to face him, his gaze soft and full of that familiar warmth that always made me feel safe. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his thumb lingering along my cheek, his eyes holding mine with an intensity that left me feeling completely exposed, but in the best way.

“I want to see you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as his hands settled on my waist, steady and sure, pulling me close until there wasn’t a breath between us. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him down to me, letting our foreheads touch as our breaths mingled, the world outside fading completely.

“So beautiful… and all mine,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet intensity that sent a thrill through me, his lips brushing against my shoulder, lingering as though he wanted me to feel every word. I felt the warmth of his breath on my skin, each syllable wrapping around me, grounding me in his presence.

“I’m yours,” I whispered back, my voice soft but full of meaning, hoping he could feel everything I was trying to say, every layer of trust and love I was offering him in those two simple words.

We stayed close, our bodies pressed together, moving in sync, his hands steady on my waist as he held me. His mouth found mine, capturing me in a kiss that was both soft and intense, as if he wanted to savour every second. I felt his hand slip to the small of my back, guiding us gently down onto the bed, his body lowering over me, fitting perfectly against mine as he settled between my thighs.

His gaze held mine as he entered me again, filling me completely, every inch grounding me in the depth of what we shared. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close, letting myself sink into the moment, feeling the warmth and weight of him, our bodies fitting together in perfect harmony.

Our bodies moved together, falling into a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing, like an unspoken language we both understood. His forehead rested against mine, and he whispered, his voice barely a breath, “You’re incredible, you know that?”

I felt a smile tug at my lips, my hand moving to trace along his jaw, feeling the strength and gentleness in every inch of him. “So are you, baby,” I murmured, my voice thick with emotion, letting my fingers trail over his skin, grounding myself in the closeness we’d built. The way he looked at me, his gaze soft and full of something unbreakable, made my heart swell, and I felt like I was seeing every layer of him, every part he’d ever trusted me with.

As he pulled me closer, our bodies fitting perfectly, his lips brushed over my shoulder, each kiss filled with a tenderness that left me breathless. I arched into him, feeling my breath catch, every nerve alight as his mouth moved to my neck, leaving a trail of warmth that seemed to linger, grounding me in the intensity of the moment.

I let out a soft gasp, my fingers pressing into his shoulders, anchoring us both as we moved together, the rhythm between us building, steady and unrelenting, yet filled with a reverence that made it feel like we were rediscovering each other. He looked into my eyes, his gaze deep and unwavering, and I could see every feeling reflected there, every emotion he couldn’t put into words.

As the intensity grew, he wrapped an arm around my waist, lifting me just enough so that our bodies pressed even closer, amplifying the connection between us. His hand found mine, fingers intertwining, our grips tightening as we both reached that tipping point, holding onto each other as if we were afraid to let go.

He looked down at me, his gaze soft and filled with that familiar warmth that made me feel safe, cherished. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice rough with sincerity, his hands tightening around me, holding me as if he didn’t want to let go, as if he was afraid the moment would slip away.

The weight of his words, the depth in his eyes, made my heart swell, and I tightened my grip on him, feeling every beat of his heart, matching the rhythm of our bodies, our connection grounding us in something that felt endless. “I love you too,” I replied, “So much,” my voice soft but full of the certainty that came from knowing he was a part of me.

He kissed me deeply, our breaths mingling as we found our rhythm again, each movement building, drawing us closer. I could feel the intensity growing, every touch, every whispered word amplifying the connection between us, making it impossible to think of anything but him, but us.

When we finally came undone together, it was in a shared breath, a moment that felt endless, timeless, as though everything else in the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of us wrapped in each other. We stayed like that, holding each other close, letting the warmth and comfort of our connection settle around us, knowing that this—this shared intimacy and closeness—was exactly where we both wanted to be.

After, we lay together in the soft glow of the room, wrapped in the warmth of each other, the silence between us comfortable and filled with an understanding that needed no words. I nestled into him, feeling his fingers lazily tracing circles along my back, his other hand entwined with mine, both of us simply basking in the afterglow, letting the moment settle over us.

After a while, Hank let out a soft sigh, his gaze drifting around the room, a pensive look crossing his face. “It’s… surreal, you know?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Being here with you. Thinking about how much has changed since… since I was that kid growing up here.”

He paused, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes as he looked back at me. “Sometimes I feel like I’m still trying to shake off parts of who I was back then… like I’m always fighting to be something more.”

I squeezed his hand gently, letting him know I understood. “You’re not that boy anymore, Hank,” I said softly, my voice steady, filled with every bit of truth I felt. “You’ve become someone stronger. And I love who you’ve become.”

A small smile tugged at his lips as he looked down at me, his gaze softening, that familiar warmth returning to his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face. “For seeing me… for all of it.”

I leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, grounding us both in the quiet reassurance that, here together, we’d found something solid, something that embraced not just who we were but who we’d become. We stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, letting the comfort of the moment hold us close.

The next morning, a soft glow filtered in through the curtains, casting a gentle light across the room as I stirred awake, feeling the familiar warmth of Hank beside me. We shared a sleepy smile, our faces inches apart as we lay there, basking in the quiet comfort of the moment before finally getting up. The sounds of soft laughter and holiday music drifted up from the kitchen below, filling the house with a warmth that felt like home.

Hank wrapped an arm around my waist as we headed downstairs, the scent of fresh coffee and cinnamon drawing us in. His parents were already seated at the table, both beaming as they welcomed us into the cosy chaos of Christmas morning. The table was spread with all kinds of treats—freshly baked cinnamon rolls, scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and a small stack of pancakes his mum insisted was “just in case anyone was still hungry.” It was the kind of meal that made the house feel full of love, and I felt myself sink into the warmth of it, cherishing every moment.

After breakfast, we exchanged small, thoughtful gifts, an unexpected delight as we each presented our tokens of appreciation. Hank gifted his mum a delicate necklace with a small heart pendant, her face lighting up as she clutched it to her chest with teary eyes. For his dad, he handed over a beautifully bound edition of a classic baseball book they’d bonded over when he was a kid. Watching the pride in his dad’s eyes as he accepted the gift, I could see the shared memories, the way those moments had shaped Hank into who he was.

When it was my turn, I handed Hank a flat, square package wrapped neatly in silver paper with a hint of red ribbon. He raised an eyebrow, a curious smile playing on his lips as he carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a custom vinyl record, the cover designed with a simple but meaningful image of two coffee mugs resting together—a nod to the mornings we’d shared at our favourite café.

He opened the record sleeve and pulled out the insert, his face softening as he realised it was filled with personal notes about each song I’d chosen, each one a small piece of our journey together. I’d written why each track mattered—how certain songs reminded me of our first night together, our shared moments, and the music we’d bonded over, filling each line with memories and meaning.

He looked up, his eyes shining with emotion. “You made me a record?” he murmured, almost in disbelief, his thumb tracing along the edge of the sleeve. “With our songs?”

I nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. “It’s a mix tape… but a bit more permanent,” I said softly, watching him absorb each detail. “I thought… whenever you listen to it, you’ll have a little piece of us, no matter where we are.”

He let out a quiet laugh, almost overwhelmed, and pulled me close, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead. “You have no idea how much this means to me,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “Thank you, baby.”

I squeezed his hand, feeling my heart swell as I watched him run his fingers over the vinyl, already knowing he’d treasure it. This wasn’t just a gift—it was a piece of our story, something we could carry with us as a reminder of all the small moments that had brought us here.

Then, with a slight smirk, he handed me a small package wrapped neatly in red paper. I unwrapped it carefully, revealing a beautiful bracelet with three tiny charms—a book, a coffee cup, and a small disk. The book and coffee cup charms were sweet nods to our shared moments at the coffee shop, representing both my love of reading and our quiet mornings together. But it was the disk that caught my breath. Engraved on one side were our initials, and on the other, the date we first met at the bar—the night that had changed everything.

I traced a fingertip over the tiny engraving, feeling a rush of warmth as I looked down at the bracelet, each charm holding a piece of us. I slipped it on, feeling my heart swell, and leaned over to press a grateful kiss to his cheek, my fingers lacing with his as he gave my hand another squeeze. It was so perfectly us—simple yet filled with meaning, grounding me in the love and connection that filled the room.

After the gifts, we gathered in the living room for one of his family’s traditions—a viewing of White Christmas. His parents had set up a nest of blankets and pillows, and Hank and I settled onto the sofa, snuggled close with a blanket wrapped around us. As the movie played, we shared warm, loving glances and small touches, feeling completely at home in each other’s presence. Hank’s mum hummed along to the songs, and his dad recited lines he’d probably memorised years ago. There was something so comforting, so right, about being here, a part of this cherished tradition, experiencing the warmth and love that filled the room.

Every so often, Hank would glance down at me, his fingers tracing gentle circles on my hand, as if to remind me, without words, how much it meant to him that I was there. And in those shared, silent moments, I felt truly at home, wrapped in both his family’s love and his.

In the afternoon, Hank and I bundled up and headed out for a quiet walk through a nearby park. The air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and coastal pine, mingled with the faint salt of the nearby ocean. The ground was soft beneath our feet, scattered with leaves that had fallen from the evergreens lining the winding path. A gentle mist clung to the air, giving everything a quiet, peaceful atmosphere that felt almost magical. I slipped my hand into his, feeling the warmth of his fingers laced with mine as we wandered side by side, letting the calmness of the moment settle around us.

After a while, our conversation turned reflective. Hank paused, his gaze drifting out over the lake glimmering in the distance, his face thoughtful. “You know… being here with you feels so different,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand in a gentle, grounding motion. “It’s strange—almost surreal. There was a time when I felt stuck, like I’d never quite measure up. But having you here… it’s like everything makes sense in a way it didn’t before.”

A familiar warmth blossomed in my chest, and I felt the weight of his words settling over me. Standing here with him, the world muted around us, I realised this wasn’t just about him finding his place—it was about us finding something lasting in each other. My thoughts wandered to New York, to all the places and routines that had once felt so unchangeable, the city’s hustle grounding me in its own way. But here, with Hank beside me, I felt the same sense of belonging I’d known in my favourite café, our lazy Sundays, the quiet, familiar corners of our life together.

I looked up at him, my voice soft but filled with the truth of what I felt. “You’ve changed so much, Hank. You’re not that boy anymore… you’ve grown into someone I admire so deeply,” I said softly, my voice filled with all the love I felt for him. “I couldn’t be prouder of who you are now, and I’m so grateful to be part of your life.”

He looked down at me, his eyes softening, and I could see the gratitude there, the quiet appreciation for being seen and loved just as he was. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “For being here… for helping me find my way when I didn’t know how.”

We continued our walk, our steps falling into an easy rhythm, the quietness between us filled with an understanding that went beyond words. After a while, our conversation turned to the future, the idea of what we could build together. Hank paused, turning to face me, his gaze steady and filled with a gentle determination. “I know it’s just a thought, but… it’s amazing to realise that home doesn’t have to be one place. It’s more about who I’m with. And with you… I feel like I’m already there.”

I felt my heart swell at his words, a warmth blooming in my chest as I reached up to brush a hand along his cheek. “You make me feel so loved, Hank,” I whispered, my voice filled with the truth of it. “In a way I never expected. You make me feel like I belong, like I’m seen for everything I am.”

He leaned down, capturing my lips in a gentle, heartfelt kiss, a quiet promise of everything we’d shared and everything yet to come. As he pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, I could feel the silent vow between us—a promise to build a life together, wherever that might take us.

Hand in hand, we walked back toward his family home, the warmth of his presence grounding me, the sense of belonging settling into every corner of my heart. And as we approached the familiar, welcoming sight of his parents’ house, I felt a quiet confidence—a certainty that whatever the future held, we’d face it together.

We shared one last, lingering look before stepping inside, his fingers squeezing mine, a silent promise that spoke louder than words. And with that, we walked into the warmth of his family’s home, ready to face the future, side by side.

Masterlist

[moonsandmobilityaids]

Muggle Benefits

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: You get news about your benefits. Warnings: Disability, financial anxiety, ableism, references to invasive government assessments. Notes: This references the UK disability benefits DLA and PIP as those are the benefits I am deeply familiar with. Reader gets the benefits she needs in this fic. Series Masterlist

You’re in your room, sitting in your wheelchair by the window, when an owl swoops in, dropping a letter onto your lap before taking off again. Picking it up, you notice straight away that this isn't a normal Hogwarts missive. It's forwarded from home—from your mum—with the distinctive markings of a muggle stamp on the envelope. Its official look makes your stomach churn: Department for Work and Pensions, it reads, followed by your full name and home address neatly typed out.

An icy tendril of anticipation curls around your heart as your fingers, trembling ever so slightly, tear into the paper. You unfold the crisp sheets within, the crinkle seeming too loud in the silent expanse of your private space. You don't need to read the words to know what this is about—you've been expecting it, dreading it, ever since your sixteenth birthday came and went.

The shift from Disability Living Allowance to Personal Independence Payment was never going to be easy. Even though you were on the highest rate for DLA, the spectre of applying for PIP had loomed over you like the shadow of some unnameable beast. But at least this means they've made a decision—right?

You unfold the letter, your heart pounding as you scan the printed lines. Words and phrases jump out at you: "award," "enhanced rate," "daily living component"—each one a shard of hope piercing through the fog of uncertainty.

A gasp leaves your lips before you can stop it. Enhanced rates for both the daily living and mobility components. You knew what this could mean in theory, but seeing it confirmed in black and white sends a jolt through you that's part relief, part disbelief.

"Your weekly amounts will be..." Your eyes flicker down to the numbers, then widen. For daily living, £108.55. For mobility, £75.75. A total of £184.30 every week—equivalent to £737.20 every four weeks. The figures blur before your eyes, a sudden rush of emotion making them swim.

This is more than you were expecting. More than you dared to hope for. It's significantly higher than the £434.20 you've been receiving on DLA every four weeks. But it's also a lifeline. With this, you might just stay afloat.

Unconsciously, your fingers tighten around the paper, creasing its edges. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, not from joy but from sheer, overwhelming relief. Your shoulders slump as tension seeps out of them, leaving you feeling strangely light.

But there's a knot in your stomach that won't unwind. Not yet. Because now comes the hard part: explaining all of this to James, Sirius, and Remus—your partners who share your heart but live in a world where money works differently, where disability isn't quantified by assessments and payment tiers.

They've seen you in pain, held you through dizzy spells and fatigue so deep it feels like gravity itself pulling at your bones. But they haven't seen the paperwork, the assessments, the endless justifications to faceless bureaucrats who hold your financial stability in their hands.

And why would they? This is a part of your life that exists outside Hogwarts' stone walls, tangled up in muggle laws and systems too complex to explain between classes or over dinner in the Great Hall. You haven't hidden it—not consciously, anyway—but when has there ever been time to sit down and discuss something as mundane as benefits?

But now, with this letter clutched tight in your grasp, you realise how much you've kept from them without meaning to. The PIP application alone took hours filled with medical jargon and questions designed to strip away dignity piece by piece. And then came the assessment—a probing examination that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable in ways you can't begin to articulate.

You sit on your bed, the letter still in your hands. The parchment is smooth beneath your fingers, a stark contrast to the turmoil within you. How do you explain this world of assessments and payments, of medical evidence and tribunal appeals? How can you make them understand what it means to be constantly evaluated, your worth determined by a system that sees only limitations?

"Fuck," you mutter under your breath, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes until you see stars. You want to keep this part of your life separate, tucked away where it can't touch the magic of Hogwarts or the warmth of their love for you. But you know it's futile. This isn't just about you anymore; it's about all four of you.

The realisation settles heavily in your chest, its weight threatening to crush you. But there's also relief—a glimmer of hope amidst the fear. They're your partners, after all. They deserve to know, even if the truth is messy and complicated.

Your hand hovers over the envelope, then slowly, resolutely, you fold the letter back along its creases. It fits snugly inside, like a secret waiting to be shared. As you seal it once more, you make a silent promise—to yourself, to them—not to hide any longer.

A knock at the door startles you out of your thoughts. "Y/N?" James calls through the wood, his voice muffled but unmistakable. "Can we come in?"

You clear your throat, tucking the letter behind you as you call back, "Yeah, it's open."

The door swings inward, revealing James first, his glasses slightly askew and a sheepish grin on his face. Sirius follows, his hair tousled from the wind outside, carrying a plate stacked high with sandwiches. Behind them, Remus slips into the room, balancing several cups precariously in his arms.

"Hope you're hungry," Sirius says, setting the food down on your bedside table. "We may have liberated some things from the Great Hall."

Despite everything, you can't help but laugh. "Liberated, huh? I think there's another word for that."

James flops onto the bed beside you, his arm brushing against yours. The contact sends a jolt through you—comforting, familiar. Safe. He nudges you gently, a playful glint in his eye. "Well, if you don't want any..."

"Hey, I didn't say that." You reach for a sandwich, taking a bite and savouring the taste of something other than worry. For a moment, everything feels almost normal again.

Almost.

Remus sits cross-legged at the foot of the bed, watching you with soft concern. "You okay, Y/N? You seem a bit... off."

"Yeah," Sirius adds, frowning slightly. "Is everything alright? Did something happen while we were gone?"

There it is—the question you've been dreading and longing for all at once. You set your sandwich aside, suddenly aware of the letter still hidden behind you. Could you brush it off, tell them it's nothing? Maybe. But that would only delay the inevitable. And you owe them more than half-truths and deflections.

"No, nothing happened," you begin, reaching behind you for the envelope. Your fingers close around it, the edges sharp against your skin. "I just... got some news today. News I should probably share with you."

James leans closer, curiosity sparking in his hazel eyes. "News? What kind of—"

His words cut off as you bring the letter into view, its official seal catching the light. "News about my DLA and PIP."

The boys' expressions shift at your words—curiosity giving way to confusion—as they exchange a glance.

"D...L...A?" James repeats slowly, as if testing the unfamiliar acronym on his tongue. "What's that?"

"Disability Living Allowance," you explain, tracing the edge of the envelope with your thumb. "It's money I've been receiving from the government for years because of my disabilities."

You look up to find them watching you intently, the earlier levity gone from their faces. Even Sirius has stopped eating, his sandwich half-forgotten on the plate before him.

"And PIP... it's Personal Independence Payment." Your voice is steady, betraying none of the anxiety coiling in your stomach. "When you turn sixteen, you have to apply for it instead of DLA."

"So this..." James gestures towards the letter, brow furrowed in thought, "this is about whether or not you'll get that payment?"

"Exactly." You nod, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The room feels suddenly smaller, the walls closing in as you peel back layers of a reality you'd hoped never to expose them to.

"But why didn't you tell us?" Sirius asks, his grey eyes searching yours. "We could've helped somehow, couldn't we?"

"That's just it, Sirius," you sigh softly, folding your hands in your lap. "There's no magic solution here. Just paperwork and waiting and hoping they see me as disabled enough."

You can see the questions forming in their minds, the gears turning as they try to make sense of something so alien to their world. But there's also understanding dawning in their eyes—a shared acknowledgement of the unseen battles you fight every day.

“They've awarded me the enhanced rate for both daily living and mobility components," you explain, your voice barely more than a whisper. "It's... it's higher than what I was getting on DLA."

The relief that floods you is palpable, but so too is the guilt—for every pound they give you, there are countless others who need it just as much, if not more. You swallow hard, trying to stave off the lump forming in your throat.

"That money helps with all the extra costs that come with being disabled," you continue, willing your hands to stop shaking. "Medical supplies, mobility aids, adaptations to my home..."

"And let me guess," James interjects, his tone edged with frustration, "the magical world doesn't have anything like this? We're expected to just pay for everything ourselves?"

Your laugh is hollow, void of any real humour. "Got it in one. No help for potions, tests, nothing."

Sirius' brow furrows deeper at your words, his gaze shifting between you and the letter still clutched tightly in your hand. "But that's... that's not right. It's not fair."

“That's just it, isn't it?" you say, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "Fair doesn't really come into play."

Remus, who has been silent until now, leans forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees. His eyes never leave the letter as he absorbs each word, each implication with a quiet intensity that speaks volumes.

Sirius shifts closer to you, his arm settling around your shoulders—a protective barrier against the tide of injustice threatening to pull you under. You lean into the embrace, drawing strength from his unwavering presence.

"But what does this mean for you now?" James asks, ever practical amidst the emotional storm. "You said the PIP is higher than the DLA—how much more are we talking?"

"You don't have to—" Remus begins, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.

"It's okay," you assure them, pulling the envelope open once more. A sense of finality settles over you as you unfold the crisp paper inside. "I want you to understand."

"DLA was £108.55 per week," you begin, tracing your finger along the printed lines of text. "PIP... the daily living component is £108.55 per week, so the same as DLA, but the mobility component is £75.75 per week."

"So that's an extra seventy five quid every week," James murmurs, mostly to himself. "Every four weeks, that'll be..."

"Around seven hundred and forty pounds, or three hundred pound more than I got before," you finish for him, tucking the letter back into its envelope. The room falls silent again, save for the distant hum of life outside the castle walls. For a moment, you allow yourself to imagine a future not so constrained by financial burdens—a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty.

"Well, then," James says at last, breaking the silence with a grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Guess we won't be running out of chocolate frogs any time soon."

"More than that," says Remus, his voice carrying a note of gravity. "It means Y/N can afford the care they need without constantly worrying about money."

"Yes," you agree, though your mind still races with what-ifs and how-tos.

The conversation continues, branching out from the benefits themselves to broader implications—what this means for day-to-day living, for future plans, for the fear that has been a constant companion since your diagnosis. Their questions are not limited to the financial aspect, but also extend to what you need, how they can help, and what this means for you going forward.

"You'll have more freedom now, won't you?" Sirius asks, his arm tightening around you ever so slightly—a silent promise of support that warms you despite the chill seeping in through the stone walls.

"I suppose so." A half-smile tugs at your lips as you consider the possibilities. More independence, less reliance on others—it's a daunting prospect, but one tinged with hope.

For a moment, silence settles over the room once again, broken only by the crackling fire and distant sounds of life beyond these ancient walls.

"How do you feel about it all, really?" James finally asks, leaning back in his chair with an air of cautious curiosity.

You pause, considering the question. How do you feel? Relief, certainly. Hope, perhaps. But there's something else too—a sense of unease that lingers just beneath the surface, gnawing at the edges of your newfound optimism.

"It's... complicated," you admit, tracing invisible patterns on the worn upholstery beneath your fingers.

"But we're here for you, Y/N," Remus assures you, reaching across the space between you to place a comforting hand on your arm. "Whatever you need, however we can help—we're in this together."

His words hang heavy in the air, each syllable underscored by the sincerity etched into his features. You glance at each of them in turn—James with his earnest concern, Sirius' protective gaze never wavering, and Remus, steady and unwavering like the moon itself—and something inside you shifts.

It's not pity you see in their eyes, nor discomfort at the reality of your situation. Instead, it's understanding—or, at least, the desire to understand—that shines back at you.

[icanttalkimhavingacrisis]

Golden thought from mother of the day:

*about my OCD*

"I think you're making some of it up. You're making yourself believe this stuff, you know. Just get out of your head!"

[skzhocomments]

The Pearls On Your Neck (Hyunjin // Lee Know x OC)- Part Three

General masterlist

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Part Two | Part Four (coming soon)

taglist: @ihrtlix

---

Part Three

chapter word count: ~12k words

Today is the day; although this should feel burden-free, I can’t help but feel bad about the whole ordeal. It’s honestly cruel that I have to go through this and what is even crueller is that I have to lie, the one thing I hate the most.

Being able to lie has always been a frailty of mine.

One of the reasons I hate it so much is because after the lies are told they are extremely hard to get out of and you end up feeling like you’re stuck in an hourglass, waiting for the truth to be found; moreover, if it's not found when the time is up, the hourglass is turned and you're stuck anticipating until the truth is unveiled. It may never be found, but you’ll never know until you're dead and you will always have that itch under your skin that cannot be scratched.

But if you’re found out, people will look at you strangely and hold feelings that can hurt because you’ve hurt them.

Trust.

Something intangible, but it’s real and that cannot be overlooked. It’s something so strong that cannot be touched; just felt. It’s a strong and beautiful emotion that is so closely related to love. Real love cannot happen without trust. Love, something powerful and transcendent. I can’t imagine it, loving and trusting someone so immensely that you lose your wits about you. That state of limerence, it's almost bewitching until the trust is broken - that's where love fails. Trust. Something that can be broken so easily but it's so hard to gain back, you might never gain it back.

I love my family as much as sometimes they may be insufferable, but I will always love them and breaking their trust is something I couldn’t ever live down. They have raised me to be a truthful and proud woman. Apparently in this matter, I’ve failed them without them knowing. I feel sly.

I shake off the bad feelings and feel a sense of Déjà Vu just like Thursday, the wild sickening feeling in my stomach swirling around in waves of nervousness and slight excitement. I close my eyes and take a deep breath hoping this feeling will pass soon.

I walk over to my vanity and gently tie my tresses in a loose braid that comes over my shoulder and ends just as it meets my breast. Doing makeup has always been a joy of mine, something that I fondly love doing, it gives me back that sense of control in my life and makes me feel put together. My mind trails back to two nights ago sitting here and taking my makeup off pretending to do a vlog for Hyunjin. Really, it’s a bit silly to be thinking back on that memory with such affection harboured, it’s absolutely ludicrous, but I will not elucidate this feeling nor will I play into it.

Yesterday Hyunjin and I messaged a little but nothing of significance.

My phone starts vibrating from beside my bed, so I rush over to it.

Boyfriend💋:

9:13 am: Morning love I hope you slept well x

9:28 am: What time do you want me to come over? x

9:31 am: Also, you forgot to send your address xx

Shit, did I really forget to send my address?

Pearl:

9:35 am: Yeah slept well. did you? I think dinner will be like 5:30ish. x

9:38 am: I’ll send you my address now. sorry I can’t believe I forgot x

Boyfriend💋:

9:38 am: Okay I’ll come at 5:15 then x

9:38 am: Oh and Pearl don’t apologise there’s nothing to be sorry for xx

Pearl:

9:39 am: Okay I’ll officially retract my apology aha x

Boyfriend💋?:

9:40 am: Good, you never have to apologise to me.

9:40 am: What flowers does your mother like? xxx

Pearl:

9:41 am: I’m not sure xx

Boyfriend💋:

9:41 am: Okay I’ll see you soon love <3

Pearl:

9:41 am: Yep :)

What does he want with my mum's favourite flowers?

I decide not to think about it too much and go downstairs to make something to eat.

Walking into the kitchen I find myself in a staring contest with my brother.

He straightens his back and narrows his eyes at me.

I sigh, what's this all about? “What, Seungmin?”

“Shouldn’t you be at the salon or something? You're going to have your hair like that for dinner?”

I scoff under my breath, cussing him out in my head, “Seungmin, are you serious?”

“Do I look unserious?” He spits out while crossing his arms over his chest, nearly knocking his spoon out of his cereal bowl.

“No, that's why I’m annoyed.” I huff pinching the bridge of my nose.

“I don’t see what there’s to be annoyed about.”

“Oh really? I’m not going to the salon, but no, for your information I’m also not going to wear my hair like this.” I chide.

Why does he have to be like this at 10 am? We used to get on so well before he found out I have a ‘boyfriend’. I can’t understand his behaviour or justify it. He’s normally understanding and cool, never faltering, he is the level-headed one out of the both of us; It’s like we’ve switched roles.

“Look Seungmin, I don’t know what your problem is and you definitely do not have a reason to be shitty with me, so if you're going to be like this just stay quiet so I can make my breakfast in peace,” I say, walking to the cupboard to get out some cereal.

“I just don’t understand Pearl, I thought we were close but you didn’t tell me about this new boyfriend.” he sighs in defeat, “Look, I'm your older brother and I just want you to know you can always tell me anything… no matter what, I just would have appreciated it, I just want to protect you.”

My stomach is churning. I’m lying to him but I have to, “Look, Seungmin, I’m sorry for not telling you, but you shouldn’t be wanting to protect me from Hyunjin, you should be protecting me from Minho.”

Liar.

“His name is Hyunjin?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, good to know”

“Yup.”

“How old is he?” Seungmin continues prying, making me curse inside my head.

“Uhm… he’s 23.” I say, pouring milk in a bowl and putting it in the microwave.

“Like me? Hmm… Hyunjin, 23. I see. You don’t happen to know which school he went to?”

“Seungmin, just ask him yourself tonight and stop bugging me.” I reply annoyed.

“Okay, okay.” He raises his arms in front of him, as if admitting defeat. “I’ll stop. But shouldn’t you be all squirming and excited to tell me all about your so-called boyfriend?”

“Who am I, Cynthia?” I roll my eyes annoyed, and I finally finish making my cereal and take it upstairs with me, unable to look Seungmin in the face.

Lying is so hard.

-

I throw myself on the bed, cereal bowl in my lap while absent mindedly scrolling through Netflix in search of a new show to watch. Experts advise against doing something else while eating, as you apparently become easily distracted, chew your food wrong and make your stomach stressed out as your brain is not actively focusing on digestion.

But even so, this is one bad habit I’m not willing to give up on, no matter what my nutritionist says. Cereal is the other bad habit he frowns upon. “Sugary nonsense”, he says, but I still love my daily bowl of Cheerios, and no one can take this pleasure away from me.

After a good 2 minutes of scrolling and not finding anything that sounds remotely interesting, I press on the “Play Something” randomizer button and see the Netflix logo pop up on the screen.

Business Proposal flashes on the screen, making me a bit curious. The cinematography looks good enough, it seems fun the way the editors combined elements from comics and put them in the video. The actors also seem pretty talented, so the show is enjoyable. After finishing half the episode, the irony of what is going on hits me like a truck. The main character goes on an arranged blind date instead of her friend, and keeps up with this fake relationship after finding out that the guy he went on a date with is actually the CEO of the company she works for.

No way.

A fake relationship…?

I frustratedly turn off the TV and notice my own reflection in the dark screen.

Pathetic. I think of myself, wondering how the hell I ended up hiring a fake boyfriend who is supposed to come in just a few hours and pretend in front of my family that he is, in fact, together with me, and has been for the past few months. Oh, and also that we love one another, so an engagement with Minho could never happen.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I ditch the now-empty cereal bowl on my desk and head over to the dresser, looking at the black satin dress Hyunjin picked for me to wear tonight. I am in awe seeing it, just as I was the first time I wore it and noticed how well it fit me. I then glance at my jewellery drawer and take out the small golden necklace - a match with Hyunjin’s - and put it on, and I do the same with the thin bangle bracelet adorned with small diamonds. I love his taste.

Before putting the dress on, I decide to do my make-up. Hyunjin will be here in about 4-5 hours, so I should start getting ready for real.

My make-up look is simple enough, as my father dislikes it when I wear too much eyeshadow, or a too bright lipstick. The point of this dinner is to please my father as much as possible, to show him that I only make good choices and to impress him enough to make him think that marrying Minho is not a good choice. That’s why I go for neutrals and nudes, doing a simple nude eyeshadow look, a small brown eyeliner line to compliment my eyes, some shimmer on my eyelids, then a bit of black mascara, and add a matte nude lipstick as the cherry on top.

I look really classy.

I decide to not complicate myself with an intricate hairstyle, so I simply let my hair fall down my shoulders and style it a bit so that it doesn’t look wild. My hair is pretty straight, just a bit wavy at the ends, and I feel it fits the dress I’m about to put on.

I glance at my phone and notice the time, and a new unopened message.

How the fuck is it already so late?! I curse in my head while opening the message and reading it in a hurry.

Boyfriend💋?:

4:49 pm: Hello beautiful, just wanted to let you know that I’m on my way and I’ll be there soon. I can’t wait to see you, my Pearl. <3

Pearl:

5:05 pm: Okay Jinnie, I’ll meet you downstairs with my parents. I’m so nervous.

I blush while quickly typing back, wanting to put on the dress as fast as possible. At this rate, he’ll get here in about 10 minutes, and I must absolutely be downstairs with my parents when that happens. Leaving him alone with my family is a bad idea.

I put on the dress fast and thank the Heavens for Hyunjin being inspired enough to choose something without a zip that I can easily dress myself in without assistance. Then, I put on the Yves Saint Laurent shoes and the matching black clutch he picked, and I’m ready to go downstairs.

As if on cue, Hyunjin arrives in a black, elegant Mercedes S-Class Uber as my family and I descend the front stairs and watch him get out of the car, two big flower bouquets in his hands.

What draws my attention is not the flowers, which are beautiful in their own right, nor the way his Yves Saint Laurent suit fits him so well, like it was made specifically for him to wear. No. What really makes him stand out is the way his hair fits his figure, the way it compliments the suit, and my dress, and how elegant it makes him look.

Black.

He dyed it black.

“Hello, Diamond.” He smiles while handing me a bouquet of white camellias, green leaves in between the flowers making them look delicate and contrasting the pure white colour of their petals.

Did he just call me Diamond?

I almost miss it, still shocked by how well black hair suits him, and completely impressed that he pulled this off. I know I’ve mentioned my dad is a bit conservative, but I wasn’t expecting him to listen too much and actually do… this.

He looks so good though.

When the shock finally wears off, I take a moment to admire the flowers he’s brought for my mother as well. Yellow tulips, daisies and purple bittersweet. Strange combination, I’ll have to ask him what they mean later. He must have a reason for choosing them.

“You must be Hyunjin. We heard a lot about you from our daughter.” My father shows a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and shakes Hyunjin’s hand in an intimidating manner.

“Yes, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He replies naturally.

“Oh my, Hyunjin, the pleasure is ours! Thank you so much for these beautiful flowers! This is such a nice bouquet, a really interesting choice.” My mom squirms with joy, very excited.

“I’m glad it’s to your taste.” Hyunjin smiles, and I once again notice how natural he is at human interactions. I’m feeling a bit jealous of how well he seems to be handling this situation, while I’m over here almost trembling from nerves.

“Hello. I’m glad you came.” I smile as well, trying to calm down and not show the distress on my face. Hyunjin takes my hand in his and bows, his lips gently grazing my knuckles.

“You have such a cute nickname for her!” My mother remarks. “What did you call her, Diamond? That’s so sweet, don’t you think so, dear?” She turns to my father, all smiles. At least Hyunjin managed to make her fall in love with him this easily. Dad will be a different story, though. Especially with how fixated he is on Minho - or rather, his parents’ business.

“Eh, it’s alright.” My father shrugs, the fake smile still painted on his face.

“Why so displeased?” She nudges his elbow and frowns.

“Don’t worry about it.” Hyunjin starts and waves his right hand nonchalantly, as if to divert attention from the uncomfortable situation and from my father’s inhospitality. “The nickname doesn’t even begin to describe half the value Pearl holds for me, nor does it do her any justice. She’s more precious than any jewel, of course.”

My mother squirms again and starts ushering us in.

When she and my dad start leading the way, Hyunjin grabs my free hand gently and whispers in my ear: “Regarding your last message, don’t be. It will all be okay, beautiful.” He holds my hand tighter for a brief second, before letting it go, so as to not be impolite in front of my parents.

My nerves seem to calm down for a bit, hearing his reassurance.

We all sit down at the dinner table, my dad in his usual spot, which is at the head of the table. He invites Hyunjin to sit on his right side, next to him, and I sit down to Hyunjin’s right. My mom is in front of me; the seat between her and my father stays empty.

Seungmin is nowhere to be seen, so I ask about his whereabouts, finding it curious that he would miss his chance to meet my boyfriend.

“Oh, don’t worry dear, he’ll be here any second now.” My mother reassures me.

I give a weak nod while playing with my fingers picking and pushing back my cuticles with my nails. Waiting for Seungmin is like torture; I don’t know how long he’s going to take nor do I know if he will be rude again like earlier…

The table is set beautifully like always, with large royal blue china plates accompanied by smaller ones while the silver cutlery settled on top and a royal blue linen napkin underneath, and my mother exchanges the slightly withered red roses in the vase at the centre of the table from my father with the fresh flowers Hyunjin has brought.

It sparks pride in me and I feel my heart swelling, seeing her do that.

She is very picky when it comes to what flowers she will have on display. I remember once for Mother's Day I had brought her some white iris and blue hydrangeas. Shortly put, she placed them in her bedroom and said that they were not worth the show. I'll never know what was wrong with her that day nor will I ever know what was wrong with the flowers. She said something about the colour of the hydrangeas being wrong for the day it was but I couldn’t care less about the colour - my feelings were hurt.

Maybe Hyunjin isn’t right - I'm not a diamond - I’m like a lump of coal, steadily being crushed by everything around me and all the little events that have led up to this. The problem is I don’t know if I'll become a diamond… or dust.

Hyunjin places his warm hand in mine, preventing me from thinking because all I can do is think about how to intercept this blush from creeping up my neck as I lift my head to face him. He gives me a smile that seems almost like camaraderie.

But now I’ve realised his hand was not for my comfort but instead his own; as he tenses at the shoulders and jaw clenching slightly at the sight of my brother, and coincidentally, Seungmin has the exact same reaction.

Seungmin’s stride stops as he sees Hyunjin and his voluminous lips turn into a tight line as he looks between us.

I wonder what is going on between the both of them.

But I also realise that Seungmin needs to approve of Hyunjin so I have a better chance of my dad approving of Hyunjin’s and my ‘relationship’. I feel the guilt all over again. Eating away at me. I’m doing the appropriate thing for both Minho and myself. I know that. The both of us could never stay together and be happy, not truly, unless it was of our own volition- which it certainly isn’t – I would never choose to be with Minho and he would never choose to be with me either.

Minho and I couldn’t ever get along, he is too arrogant and he has a tongue like glass that cuts away at me every time we speak, shattering my glass house and chipping away at my patience.

“Seungmin, are you not going to sit?” My father's voice cuts right through my thoughts. My body jolts, startled and I face Hyunjin again as Seungmin sits.

I must have truly been lost in my thoughts to not notice Seungmin standing still, “Hyun? You okay?” I whisper so only he can hear it.

He squeezes my hand gently offering an action instead of words, I don’t mind much though.

“Seungmin, this is my boyfriend Hyunjin,” I say cautiously, not wanting to screw this introduction up as they both had already tensed up at the first glance. Maybe it’s just Seungmin being protective.

Seungmin is lounging in his chair in one of the most disrespectful manners I’ve ever seen him show, arms folded, looking delightfully smug, “I know.”

I'm shocked at first but realisation sinks in, “Ah yes, sorry. I told you his name this morning.”

Seungmin hums but it sounds uncertain, as he moves his eyes to Hyunjin almost looking like he’s gone into tunnel vision, “Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin sits up straighter, pushing back his now-black hair with his free hand.

God, he’s stunning.

“Yes?” he says so gently I swear I can feel my heart breaking for him, I’d shatter if I were put under the microscope like this.

Seungmin’s smug disposition doesn’t falter much like Hyunjin's grip on my hand, “You're Pearl's boyfriend?”

“Seungmin!” I warn.

“Pearl, calm down.” My mother chides me slightly, “Let the men speak.”

Hyunjin swallows thickly and I can hear it, “Yes, I’m your sister's boyfriend.” He confirms.

Seungmin leans onto the table with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “You know she’s supposed to be getting married… and it’s not to you?”

Seungmin is being cruel and I’ve never seen this side of him. It doesn't suit him at all.

I’m so close to recklessly abandoning this dinner, getting up and dragging Hyunjin out with me. Tremors try to knock my bones fiercely. Nerves are attempting to get the better of me, I have never felt more vulnerable, I feel naked. Trying to fight for my future and my brother is wrecking every chance I have to be free right now for some unknown reason.

Hyunjin’s finger taps my hand and only then do I realise how tightly I have been gripping it, I look down and release his hand seeing the white imprints from my finger's tight grip slowly turning back to the original colour of caramel.

Hyunjin’s face remains unchanged, handsome, youthful, as hard as diamonds, - he is the real diamond out of us - is as handsome as it is terrifying. In fact, just now I swear I saw a twitch pull at the corner of his lip, “Yes, I know this. I am hoping to get the approval of you all by coming here.” He speaks poised and collected, unfazed. He is like a poisonous flower - stunning, courageous and deadly. This, I realise as he speaks with so much confidence it's exuding from him almost; how can he be like this?

“You’re my age, right?” Seungmin states even though I have told him this before.

Hyunjin smiles at Seungmin for the first time all night; it’s not even been long yet it feels like I’ve been sitting here for hours, “Yes, I’m 23,” Hyunjin answers Seungmins prodding nonchalantly.

Seungmin puffs and opens his mouth to which my father stops him by dropping a question that no one could have prepared for, “Do you want kids?”

I nearly die right there and I wish I would, I’m going to make a mental note to never bring a boyfriend home unless I want another near-death experience, my mouth is hanging at the brazen question. Is this what fathers normally ask when first meeting their daughter's boyfriend?

Hyunjin’s face is still unchanged but he reaches for my hand and grips it tightly yet it doesn’t hurt, it’s gentle just like him, “Yes, at some point.”

“And you’d like them with Pearl? Are you not wanting to get married before?” My father continues, face stone cold, and I wish I could walk out right now.

The hand clutched around mine moves slightly; Hyunjin’s thumb rubs small circles on my hand sending goosebumps all over my body and I don’t even feel cold, I feel burning hot from this whole embarrassing act my brother and father are putting on - trying to act like alpha males - It’s infuriating just as much as it is humiliating, “Marriage would come first and a mortgage for a house, then yes, I would like to live that type of life with your beautiful daughter.” Hyunjin replies, turning to look at me endearingly, “Isn’t that right, love?”

My heart is pounding way too loudly and my stomach is doing flips. Also, I'm a hundred percent sure I’ve turned a deep shade of crimson, “Yes, of course, Jinnie!” I say smiling back at Hyunjin trying to look starstruck, dumb with love and hoping my voice didn’t falter.

I look around the table, my mother looks absolutely smitten with joy, her eyes are tepid pools inviting as ever - an extreme contrast to how I thought she would react - Seungmin looks horrified like he’s seen a ghost, face pale yet the tips of his ears a burning brightly and my father… just looks unamused.

There is a silence that is shared, slightly too long, slightly unnerving and full of unsaid emotions and tensions that couldn’t be cut with a knife even if they were tangible.

I think my mother understood my wide shifting eyes for once and she lets out a sigh, following it with an awkward chuckle, “So, how did you two meet?”

Fuck, we didn’t go over this well.

I feel like a deer in headlights. I definitely look like one too, I don’t know if I should speak first or not. Will Hyunjin take the wheel or will I have to?

“Uhm…” I start nervously. “We were-”

“One of my best friends works at a Café near Pearl’s University.” Hyunjin smiles assuringly, reminding me of this one detail I seemed to forget. I once again can’t believe how good he is under pressure. Seeing my family’s piercing gaze, I froze on the spot, but Hyunjin doesn’t seem to have any issues whatsoever in keeping the conversation flow naturally.

“Ah, yes. His name is Felix.” I intervene, trying to add as much detail as possible.

But liars tend to add one too many details, eager to convince you that they are speaking the truth.

I just shut up.

“My friend forgot something one time and asked me to bring it to him at work, and that’s how I ran into Pearl.” Hyunjin continues.

“That’s so sweet!” My mother exclaims.

“Indeed. It was love at first sight. Cynthia ditched her to meet up with Seungmin, she told me later, so we sat down at a small table and talked and talked until our drinks got cold.” Hyunjin looked at me and smiled brightly. Part of what he said was true, we did talk until our drinks got cold. I could still remember the stale taste my tea had when we met at Harrod’s Café two days ago.

“So, what’s your educational background, then?” Seungmin intervenes and leans with his elbows on the table, his head supported by his hands. I’ve never seen him act like this and I’m completely baffled. “Which University did you go to? At 23 you must be over with it, or almost over, right?”

Hyunjin fakes a polite smile and answers truthfully.

“I haven’t been to University, as I had to start working early due to some personal issues. I do plan on going in the future, though.”

Personal issues? What could that mean? I analyse his words in my head, curiosity getting the better of me. I want to ask him. I want to know everything about him. But this is not the time, nor the right place, so I keep my head down and listen to the conversation, pretending I knew.

“Her fiancé is getting his second degree right now.” Seungmin points out, and I can’t bite my tongue anymore.

“He’s not my fiancé, Seungmin. What is wrong with you?” I frown, annoyed.

“Pearl, don’t be disrespectful to your older brother.” My dad berates me, making me even more furious.

Hyunjin’s grip on my hand tightens.

“I know that I am lacking in this regard, and I understand your brother’s concerns.” He starts speaking, before getting interrupted by Seungmin.

“I’m glad you do. You see, Pearl is used to a certain lifestyle that I doubt you’d be able to provide.” my brother smiles smugly, seemingly proud of himself that he is actively ruining my life. I throw him a death stare, but he doesn’t look at me.

“However,” Hyunjin resumes his previous statement from before he was rudely cut off. “What I care about the most is Pearl’s happiness, and I will do everything in my power to make her happy, and I will love her unconditionally.”

“However,” Seungmin speaks again, crossing his arms, a dumb smirk on his face. “Love doesn’t still your hunger, does it?”

“Okay boys, let’s stop the bickering and eat. Sorry about him, Hyunjin, he is just on edge since you’re the first boyfriend Pearl has ever brought home.” My mom tries to bridge the gap between the two, and my dad stays silent, observing Hyunjin’s mannerisms at the table.

Our servers bring over plates of Wagyu beef with fresh asparagus on the side. Hyunjin seems to have his etiquette on point, as he skillfully cuts through the middle of the steak, observing the colour inside.

“Wow, this is the most perfect Medium Rare I’ve ever seen.” He compliments, and my dad nods in approval.

“The best way to cook such a high-quality steak.” He replies and does the same, cutting the beef in the middle and observing it carefully as well.

Hyunjin continues with cutting another piece of the steak and eating it, and I am glad he didn’t just cut the whole piece at once - something my dad absolutely hates. He doesn’t fail to notice it either, so, satisfied with Hyunjin’s table manners, he orders the server to bring us a red Chateau Lafite Rothschild, and I get excited, noting that this is one of his favourite wines, the bottle itself pricing up to about £5000.

This must mean he likes Hyunjin, right? I think unsure, not seeing any change on my father’s face. He was never an expressive person, though.

“1959.” He says, pouring the wine in Hyunjin’s glass himself, shocking thing for both me and Seungmin, who watch astonished as the red liquid flows. “A wine as old as I am.” He jokes, and Hyunjin chuckles. “Let me know if you like it.”

Just as skillful as before when cutting the steak, Hyunjin raises his glass by the stem and gives it a swirl, putting his nose close to the glass and breathing in gently.

“The aroma is extremely rich and elegant.” He compliments, then raises his glass and holds a small toast. “To Pearl’s happiness.” he says, clinking his glass bell to bell with my father and looking him in the eyes. He then takes a small sip, and glancing at his side profile I can’t help but think that he behaves like a prince.

I’m now even more curious about his upbringing, and I hate the fact that I have to bite my tongue and not say anything, that we aren’t alone so I can ask him questions to my heart’s content. This desperate feeling of wanting to know everything about him flushes over me again, and I don’t like it at all.

I’ve never felt like this before.

-

The meal is soon over and my family and I are escorting Hyunjin outside. My parents shake hands with him, my mum whipped, and my father pretty much indifferent, although I assume he likes him at least a bit for him to open a new wine bottle. They excuse themselves and don’t wait for Hyunjin’s cab to arrive, so only Seungmin, him and I are left standing in front of our artisanal fountain.

Hyunjin’s car arrives, and I’m mad that I didn’t get a chance to discuss anything about tonight with him; to assure him, somehow, or to have him assure me that the dinner went well. I throw daggers Seungmin’s way, but as he acted all night, he doesn’t mind my presence, focusing instead on Hyunjin.

“Just so you know,” Seungmin starts speaking, stretching his right hand out to shake Hyunjin’s hand. “I don’t agree with you dating Pearl. I don’t accept you in any way, nor will I ever accept you, so you’d better break up and let her get married to someone who actually deserves her.”

He spat all of this out with a bright smile on his face while shaking Hyunjin’s hand, who had his lips in a straight line listening to my brother’s nonsense.

“Seungmin,” he replies. “You’re still the same as ever.” Hyunjin smiles as well, confusing me.

Does this mean they met before?

Just as I want to inquire further, the Uber pulls over and Hyunjin bows down to kiss my knuckles once more, before getting into the car and leaving.

“What the fuck was that, Seungmin?” I face my brother angrily.

“What? I just told him the truth. He doesn’t deserve you, so you don’t have my approval to date him.”

“Since when did I need your approval, hm? I can date whoever I want, you prick!” I lose my composure and shout at him, before storming into the house. My parents were waiting for me to come inside, and my mum started speaking as soon as she saw me.

“Pearl, dear, he seems like a great guy…” she smiles.

“But,” my father cuts her off. “I told you before. The man you’re dating has to be a man. This Hyunjin boy you’re seeing… I’m sorry, darling, but Lee Minho is three levels over him. Seungmin was right. Minho is working hard, getting his second degree. He already manages most of his father’s affairs and knows his way around their business. He is the obvious choice, and you will start dating him and eventually get married. At this point, you should be grateful he even wants to get engaged to you, with how… talentless you are.”

I freeze in my spot, not wanting to believe that my dad’s opinion on me is so low, that even he sees me as a spoilt, arrogant, foolish girl, with no qualities of her own. My mother of course starts scolding him for saying that, but I don’t hear her anymore. I just mutter a half-mouthed “I won’t stop dating Hyunjin, no matter what you say.” and turn around, hurrying up the stairs.

I feel more pathetic than ever. Like a kid who got scolded for not eating their vegetables at the dinner table.

And I am annoyed. I am so royally pissed off at everyone right now. Seungmin, especially, for putting us on the spot like that, and my father for not wanting to understand that I don’t want to marry Minho.

Hyunjin was perfect tonight. He didn’t do anything wrong, and couldn’t have done or said anything better. Why doesn’t my father approve of him after all this effort?!

Fuck.

I enter my room and lean against the door, making myself fall down. My heels scratch the fIoor, but I couldn’t care less about that right now. I start panting uncontrollably. The tears follow soon after, and I find myself unable to stop crying.

It’s so unfair.

I then hear the clicking sound of my phone, announcing to me that I just received a message.

Boyfriend💋?:

8:17 pm: My lovely Diamond, I’m sorry for tonight. I get the feeling that it didn’t go as well as you hoped, but I promise I will do better next time.

I know I am not good enough for you, and that I am lacking in many aspects. Your brother was right, I wouldn’t be able to offer you that lifestyle. Not now, anyway.

Please forgive me and don’t be too upset.

Why is he the one apologising? He didn’t do anything wrong.

The fact that he’s my fake boyfriend completely passes over my head and I start typing a reply.

Pearl:

Jinnie, you were perfect tonight. I am the one who wants to apologise. My family treated you horribly. I’m truly sorry.

Not even 10 seconds after I sent the message, my phone starts vibrating, and I notice an

 incoming call from Hyunjin.

Why is he calling me now?

I am a mess, and as much as I try to regulate my breathing, it’s so painfully obvious that I’ve been crying.

Even so, I bite my bottom lip and answer, placing the phone against my ear.

“Hyunjin?”

“Yes?” He says in a hushed tone, making me feel like listening to asmr.

“You called? Sorry it’s just… I didn’t expect you to.”

“I just… you don’t have to apologise to me. Ever.”

But I do.

“Hyun.”

“Yes, love?”

“Don’t apologise to me then,” I say stubbornly.

And you have nothing to be sorry for, I add silently.

“Are you trying to be stubborn?” He says, amusement laced in his voice.

“It’s cute.”

A blush fishes across my face and I thank the gods that he can’t see me, “Anyway, should we talk about what we do next?” I manage to get out.

“Yes, wait one second.” He says as if in a hurry before I could hear shuffling. “Right, I’m back.”

I let out a giggle and wonder what is wrong with me.

“Where did you go?”

“I got my… diary?” he sounds unsure.

“Okay, so what are you using your diary for?”

“Tell me things you like, beautiful.”

“Things I like?”

“Yup”

“Well I don’t really know… I like fishing but I’ve already said that. I like art but don’t know where to start. Oh! I like the beach!”

“What else?”

He wants me to continue? I don’t even know what I like.

“Hmm... I like books and animals. Board games! I love them! But wait, why are you asking?”

“No reason, I just want to know more about you.”

I hum, not sure why he wants to know these things that don't matter, but I’ll entertain it.

“What about you, Jinnie? What do you like? Besides music, flowers, crystals, odd shops and art, of course.” I chuckle a bit, remembering his speech at Harrod’s the other day.

“I can’t believe you remembered that.” He chuckles as well, bringing a smile to my lips. I didn’t even notice that the tears stopped falling.

“Of course I remembered.” I smile, my cheeks red.

“You’re sweet. Okay, uhmmm. I like drinking coffee, I guess? Americano is my favourite.”

“It’s so bitter though!” I grimace.

“Shut up, it’s not!” He laughs brightly. Talking with him feels so natural, and I feel my chest tightening.

“Okay, okay, what else?” I ask excitedly.

“I like playing with kids. They are fun.”

“Really? Wow, I wouldn’t have guessed.” I reply, shocked.

“What about you, Diamond? Do you like kids?” He asks, and I hear a tint of… something in his voice. Hope, perhaps? I don’t know why I get this impression, but he does seem kind of hopeful.

“I mean, I think I do? I haven’t really interacted much with children, to be honest, but they are super cute.”

“That’s good to hear!” He exclaims happily.

“Really, how so?” I question.

“Well, the thing is-”

“Shit! Hyunjin, sorry! I’ve got to go. Cynthia is calling me. I’ll call you back?”

“Yeah that’s fine but um… maybe we can talk tomorrow? I’ve got to help Felix clean the apartment, but I’ll message you!”

“Okay, speak to you later!”

I ended the phone and quickly switched calls to see Cynthia’s face.

“What have you done?!” She snaps.

“What do you mean?” I say, defending myself quickly.

“Seungmin’s just called me and has been ranting forever! I’ve got an ear ache!”

I laugh at her whining but quickly stop myself when catching onto the actual reasoning for the call. “Seungmin is a cunt.” I say plainly.

“What?”

“I said Seungmin is a cunt ! I hate him so much! He’s ruined everything and he was so rude to Hyunjin-”

“Pearl! Seungmin says he knows Hyunjin… They went to school together or something, but either way, I don’t think they got on.”

“Oh,” I didn’t know that, “but still he has no reason to be such a twat! Doesn’t he know this is my future, my life?! All he wants is for me to be with Minho. No. I won’t. I’ll dig below hell before that happens!”

“Pearl, don’t you think there might be a reason why Seungmin doesn’t like Hyunjin?”

“You were so supportive before this, what's changed? And no, even if there is a reason, it doesn’t matter! Hyunjin is my boyfriend-”

“Fake boyfriend.” she’s quick to cut me off.

“Yes, fake boyfriend. Jesus, I've been acting for so long. But no, anyway it doesn’t matter. Seungmin is an adult. He should put his past aside for me for my future instead of acting like a silly little boy!”

“I get what you mean, but he is thinking about your future. And don’t get so worked up. Hyunjin is not your real boyfriend-”

“Don’t tell me you fucking told Seungmin that too.”

“Of course I didn’t! But seriously Pearl, there must be something extremely wrong for Seungmin to act that way.”

“No, I don’t even wanna hear it Cynthia. He’s acted like an asshole, and he’s trying to force this marriage with Minho on me, just like my parents. I thought you would understand, at least.”

Cynthia doesn’t say anything, neither do I. I'm on the verge of a mental breakdown at this point, Seungmin has been so selfish but he seems to be blind to his own flaws and I can’t stand it.

I take in a long deep breath trying to contain my anger, it’s not fair on Cynthia, “Look… Cynth, he could have been more understanding, when I found out about you two I wasn’t particularly over the moon. But I didn’t stop either of you because I love you both and if you make each other happy I was fine with that, I can remember the nights I’d think about it. I was so worried about if you two had a fight and broke up. I was worried I’d have to pick a side. Still am. But I know that I won’t pick a side now, and you’ll both have to deal with it.”

“I love you, Pearl.”

“I love you too, can you try speaking to Seungmin? Like… can you see how selfish he is being?”

“Yeah, I’ll speak to him.”

A knock at the door stops me before I could speak, “Cynthia I’ve got to go, thank you for everything, love ya.”

I end the phone quickly and walk to open the door to see my dad standing there, “Yes?”

“Can I come in?”

What does he even want?  “Yes”

I walk back to my bed and sit down, looking at him expectantly.

He shifts on his feet, but still manages to look cold as ever, “Darling, I’ve got something for you.” He says and takes his arms from behind his back.

I watch as an orange bag comes into sight, Hermes written on it. I almost scoff, “What's this for?”

“Well, I know you’re upset about Hyunjin. I think this will make you feel better,” He says calmly, walking over to my bed and sitting next to me.

The realisation dawns on me, and a huge wave of anger and betrayal washes over me, vigorously running through my veins. I let out a laugh in disbelief, “You never were going to approve of Hyunjin, were you?”

He says nothing.

“You bought this before the dinner because you knew. Did mum know?”

“No, your mother didn’t know anything.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” He asks.

I look at my father's cold face trying to analyse it, trying to find a hint of anything, but I catch something.

Guilt.

“Why did you get me this bag? Why didn’t you approve of Hyunjin?”

“This bag is going to make you feel better darling, you know I can’t approve of Hyunjin. He’s not right for you.”

I stand up, I feel the room getting smaller and smaller. This is the second time my father has insulted me. He really thinks I’m that shallow. He thinks a fancy handbag will make me feel better. He thinks it will make me feel fine about my future happiness being robbed right before my eyes.

No.

This is not who I am.

He doesn’t even know me.

My breath is staggering as I come to the realisation, “No!”

My father's face turns complex, “No?” His tone is unfaltering.

I shake my head and let out an almost delirious laugh, “No. You carry all of your guilt in these… these designer bags that you buy me, I’m not that shallow! Dad, do you even know me?” I question. I feel the longing in my heart. I want to be seen by him, I want his approval, but I want him to approve me for me.

“Come on darling, of course I know you.”

“No, you don’t! You don’t listen to me, you don’t care about my happiness. Dad, don't you see how unfair this is?”

He stands abruptly, letting out a sigh, “I will not talk to you when you are like this, you need to understand what is good for the company. How can you be so selfish? Do you not care about the family?”

“I’m not being selfish-”

“You are spoilt rotten! I will not allow this disobedience!” He cuts me off with that final statement and walks out of the door.

There's something I’ve learnt today, no one but yourself will ever care about your happiness, humans are selfish.

-

Blessed Sunday!

I think ironically while opening my eyes and glancing at the clock. 11:46 AM.

Last night I fell asleep really late, upset about the events that took place, angry at Seungmin and my father and with a weird feeling inside my chest when thinking of Hyunjin.

I get up and look at my reflection in the mirror, noticing the puffy eyes from all the crying. I have a splitting headache, my hair’s a mess and I feel like shit.

I open my door and go downstairs to the kitchen, on a mission to grab two silver spoons and place them on my eyes. Hopefully the puffiness is gonna go away.

Unfortunately for me, dad is at the kitchen table reading a newspaper.

Great.

My mom is also making herself busy by brewing coffee. Seungmin is not here, thank God.

“Hey sweetie, slept well?” My mother smiles brightly. “Want some coffee?”

“No thanks.” I reply shortly, opening the cutlery drawer.

“Something to eat?” my mum asks.

“Nope.”

“What about-”

“God! Can you stop talking already? I told you I don’t want anything!” I burst out, regretting it shortly after as my dad raises his eyes from the newspaper.

“Don’t talk to your mother like that, Pearl.” he says sternly, making me once again feel like a kid.

Is he really that unaffected about yesterday?

“I’m sorry mum, I just have a headache.”

“Hopefully you’re not sick,” dad starts, “as you have plans tonight.”

“I do?” I ask, unaware of what nonsense he was spewing.

“Yes. Dinner with Minho, he’s sending a driver to get you at 6. Wear something nice, and do something about that hair, will you?” he starts reading the newspaper again, and I sigh defeated.

“Dear-” my mom tries to touch my shoulder, noticing my dejected expression, but I just smack her hand away and leave, without even grabbing the spoons.

Seungmin is coming down the stairs just as I’m making my way up, and he greets me happily, as if he wasn’t the biggest asshole in history at the dinner.

“Hey Pearlie!”

I ignore him.

“Did you sleep well?” He tries to talk to me again.

God, why the fuck is everyone asking me this today?

I’m so annoyed.

“Shut the fuck up, Seungmin.”

“Wow, what’s with that attitude?” He frowns. “Look, I really wanted to-”

“I’m apparently going on a date with Minho tonight, so I hope you’re fucking happy.” I reply matter of factly interrupting him and I continue walking, ignoring whatever else he wanted to say next.

I drop onto my bed and watch as dust particles rise up in the air, and I start feeling around, trying to find my phone.

Cynthia❣️ 15 unread messages

Fuck no, I’m not in the mood for spam right now.

Dog Lover 🐶: 1 unread message

Not in the mood for my idiot brother either. Still, I click on it to see what he wants.

Dog Lover 🐶

10:23 AM: Hey, can we talk?

Well, that ship has already sailed.

I close his message and notice one more notification.

Boyfriend💋?: 5 unread messages

Huh?

I eagerly open the chat to read what he sent me, quite shocked to basically wake up to messages from him.

Boyfriend💋?:

09:53: Hello beautiful, slept well?

I didn’t get that much sleep to be honest, but I had to wake up and help Felix.

Wish I slept until later~

10:58: You must still be sleeping, haha. Cute.

Me:

12:02: Morning~

Sorry for not replying earlier, I just woke up ~15 mins ago. Istg, you’re the 3rd person who asked me if I slept well. You’re lucky I like you.

I press send without re-reading, which I quickly regret.

You’re lucky I like you.

AM I FUCKING DUMB??? HOW COULD I SAY THAT?!?!?

Boyfriend💋?:

12:03: Thanks love. I like you a lot too.

Look at this mess:

Felix apparently threw a party while I was at your place yesterday.

We barely finished the kitchen, and now gotta clean… this.

Me:

12:05: No way!

He’s at that age. 🤭🤭🤭

Boyfriend💋?:

12:06: Indeed 😂

Me:

12:06: Ok Jinnie, I’m gonna let you clean in peace.

But first

How much should I pay you for yesterday?

Boyfriend💋?:

12:07: ?

Me:

12:07: You know, for the dinner… oh, and the flowers, they must’ve been expensive.

Let me know how much money.

Boyfriend💋?:

12:08: I don’t know what you’re talking about?

What money?

Anyways, Felix is shouting at me so I’m gonna go.

Ttyl?

😘

Me:

12:09: Uhm… you know… for the date?

Okay, sure! Good luck! 👐

Why does he keep avoiding answering every question about the fake dating thing?

I sigh and open my banking app, adding in his details.

Is this enough…? I question while sending 1000$.

Oh well, he’ll tell me if I should send more.

~

The hours up to the date with Minho pass down relatively quickly. I don’t care that much about what I’ll wear tonight, since I don’t give two shits about impressing him in any way, so I just grab a random black blazer dress with golden buttons adorning the front side the bottom fans out like a pleated skirt but it cinches in at the waist sporting padded shoulders, overall it gives me the illusion of a tiny waist, cute! I make sure to put a black square neck tank top as the cut is low and wouldn’t show my bust, not to Minho at least. I wear a comfortable pair of black Dr. Martens derby style shoes and don’t bother too much with accessorising myself, or wearing too much make-up.

Just as my dad said, when 6 PM hits the clock, a driver sent by Minho arrives in front of my house to pick me up.

I am supposed to meet him at this Sky Rooftop Restaurant that only elites eat at, supposedly. I haven’t gotten the chance to go there yet, so I don’t know what to expect.

When we arrive, a valet comes to greet me at the car and guides me until the last floor of the skyscraper the restaurant is located in, which is the 50th.

When the elevator doors open and we enter the restaurant, I am mesmerised by how beautiful every detail is. Around the maroon wood tables are large square flower pots with greenery, and on the ceiling star-like projections are shown, the whole place looking magical.

Oh, and the restaurant is huge.

I notice Minho sitting leisurely at one of the tables in the corner, and I notice something weird as well: all the tables are empty, and besides me, him and the valet, there doesn’t seem to be anyone else here.

This can only mean one thing: Minho rented out this whole place… just for the two of us.

The thought of how expensive this must’ve been crosses my head, but it disappears just as quickly as it came, as the valet guides me to the table and Minho stands up to greet me.

“Hey.” He says looking at me from head to toe with his cold piercing eyes.

“Hey.” I reply back just as coldly, and I barely contain myself from removing my hand from his, as he bows down to kiss it politely.

That’s so unlike you. I think, but I don’t say it.

After he’s down kissing my hand, I look at his outfit and curse a bit in my head, for we somehow match clothes again. He is not dressed too formal either, a pair of blue jeans and a black blazer jacket with a white button up underneath. But his jacket has fucking golden buttons on it, looking strikingly similar to my dress.

Minho shows me to the deluxe leather chair in front of his seat and helps me sit down, then returns to his former position.

“How was your date yesterday?” Minho smirks, pressing all my buttons. It’s always like this with him, he says the most annoying things in the shortest amount of time as possible, making me hate that stupid mouth of his.

“It was great. My dad loves my boyfriend.” I reply, trying to sound confident.

“Right.” He chuckles. “Then why are you here?”

“I don’t know, Minho? Why am I here? Why do you want to get married to me so badly?” I spit.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Pearl. This has nothing to do with what I want. It’s just a logical choice for my business.”

“Your business?” I laugh.

“Yes, mine. I’ve been running it for almost 3 years now in my dad’s place, so of course it’s mine. You wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I, now? Why?”

“Because you are… the way that you are.” He says, looking at me blankly, as if he said the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re just like my father. Thinking you know so much about me. Well, you don’t know shit, Minho. Whatever, let’s just order.”

I open up the menu and don’t even read what’s written. I just look at the prices and pick the most expensive things. If he’s going to try and hurt my heart, I’m going to hurt his wallet.

It doesn’t matter what I’ll order, anyway. I don’t have an appetite, so the food will stay untouched on the plate.

Oop, 24k gold-coated steak, sounds interesting. 30000$, noted.

Diamond is Forever cocktail? Fun, 22,600$, and you get to keep the diamond. Why not?

Ohohoho, this desert though! Frrrozen Haute Chocolate! 25.000$. Just perfect.

As I give the waiter my order, I laugh in my head, a bit in disbelief that I managed to rack up an almost 80.000$ meal with just three items. As the waiter listens to what I say, he gives Minho an unsure glance, but Minho doesn’t look upset at all. No, on the contrary. Seeing my mischievous smile, he looks amused and just nods, ordering the same things for himself.

Even worse, he tells the waiter that we forgot to order entrees, so he tells him we want two Grand Velas Tacos, which happen to be the most expensive entree in this restaurant, 25k a piece.

With this order, both of us go way over 200k for the whole meal.

What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

It’s like we’re having a contest, and he wants to prove to me that he’s winning no matter what.

As the entrees come, I see my phone’s screen lighting up on the table. I pick it up without thinking twice, and see a message from Hyunjin.

Boyfriend💋?:

18:46: Finally done cleaning! Pfiu, that was something!

What are you doing?

Me:

18:46: Jinnie! Wow, it took you so long, hahah, you must be exhausted.

Boyfriend💋?:

18:47: It was! I’m so tired. 😩😩😩

Me:

18:47: Felix gave you a lot of work today, hahah 🤣🤣

“Who got you smiling like that?” Minho’s words make me glance away from my phone and realise that I’ve really been grinning like an idiot. “Your boyfriend?” He continues, raising an eyebrow.

“So what if it is?”

“Woah! The audacity you have, ordering a 100k meal and not even paying attention to me.” He scoffs and applauds mockingly.

“I mean, what did you expect? I’m here unwillingly.” I shrug, then I notice my phone lighting up again, and I unlock it to check what Hyunjin said.

Boyfriend💋?:

18:48: He did. So anyways, what’re you up to?

Me:

18:48: Not much, my dad forced me to go to this stupid restaurant with Minho.

Boyfriend💋?:

18:48: Oh. Is it like a date?

Me:

18:49: Unfortunately.

Boyfriend💋?:

18:50: Oh

“Pearl, put the phone down and eat, will you?” Minho frowns.

“Acting like my dad again?” I mock him, turning my eyes once more to the phone.

Boyfriend💋?:

18:51: I also have work today, but I don’t really want to go either. 🙂

Work? I frown. Does he have to go on a fake date?

But-

“I’m serious.” Minho says again, more sternly than before. Before having a chance to complain, he leans over the table and grabs the phone out of my hands, putting it face down on the table.

“Don’t do shit like that!” I spit out, annoyed, reaching out to the table to grab my phone back. Who does he think he is?

“If you don’t want me to do shit like that, don’t waste my fucking time and money, princess.” He scoffs again, reaching out after the phone at the same time as me.

“Stop being so fucking controlling and jealous!”

Both of us get hold of it and pull it towards us as hard as we can.

“Minho, let it go. It’s my phone. You don’t get to forbid me to use it.”

“Oh yeah? Fine!” His voice gets louder, and he suddenly lets go of the phone. Not expecting it, I also let go of it, and it basically flies a few metres away from our table. “And I’m not controlling, nor jealous.”

Minho just sits there with his arms crossed, not even looking at me, as I get up to recover my phone from the marble floor. When I pick it up, I notice that the screen is broken and the phone won’t turn on.

“You fucking broke it!” I shout, annoyed.

Minho doesn’t say anything.

How dare he disrespect me like this?

I want to leave so badly, but the server comes with our main course and guides me to sit back down. I don’t want to make another scene, afraid of what would reach my father’s ears, so I just sit back down, broken phone in my hand and tears in the corners of my eyes.

I look around the restaurant wanting to avoid Minho’s gaze as much as possible. True to his form, the waitresses were cooping up in the corner or behind the bar giggling and gawking at him.

He didn’t mind. I doubt he’s even noticed the way he’s burning holes through my skull.

Minho only had to flash that undeniably cocky smirk at someone to get them to like him. He is so devastatingly, disgustingly good-looking that whoever becomes his target never stood a chance. The way he runs his hand through his silky brown hair, the way he gives that lazy wink that makes you think you’re the only thing he sees, the way his eyes would never seem to leave yours in an infinite assault of intense eye contact.

He knows his effect on women, even men and he brazenly relishes in it.

A true womaniser.

It probably would have worked on me as well if I didn’t know him well enough to know that he is actually the biggest cock on the planet.

And I will give him credit for being a hard worker, a man with lots of ambition and determination.

When I first met him, his beauty nearly swept me off my feet.

It was on the cusp of autumn two years ago when I started university, the trees were bare leaving only the skeleton behind. However, the ground was now a beautiful variety of burnt ambers, bright yellows and fiery reds. I was so nervous. University was adulting and that scared me. The expectations of doing well from my family didn’t help either.

Cynthia has already told me about the heartthrob in my class as she started a day before me. She couldn’t stop talking about him, and apparently, she had already planned out our wedding and house interior.

We were seated together. I didn’t know who he was, but he knew who I was.

“Pearl, it’s nice to meet you.” I turned and looked at him in downright confusion. Worried about how he knew who I was and how he knew me.

But I was also starstruck by his good looks, “I’m sorry, do I know you?” I said.

He chuckles lightly and I noticed his cute set of pearly white bunny teeth, “I’m Lee Minho.”

The realisation hit me like a truck and I wish I could have disappeared right on the spot, spontaneously combust. He was the Lee Minho, the one my parents had told me about. The one who they said to be polite to and provide the most respect towards.

The one they said was handsome and polite.

Fuck they were right, he was handsome.

I stammered, placing my pen down quickly and turned to look at him better to not come across as rude as I previously had done by not recognising him, “I’m so sorry I… I didn’t know you were here, in this course, and I wasn’t told.”

His smile brightened as my fumbling across sentences seemed to amuse him, “It’s okay, I’ve been told a great deal about you.”

I sighed in relief, “I hope all good things?”

“Of course,” he said softly as the lecturer came in to start.

After the lecture was over he asked me if I wanted to join him for lunch, I accepted, of course.

We went to the café where Felix worked. It was my first time there; the interior shocked me. It was definitely something different.

We both genuinely got on.

Like a house on fire, he was shy initially but he soon warmed up. Quicker than I did anyway.

His jokes were witty, some were absolutely ludicrous and were so bad they made me laugh.

I’d tell him they were terrible but he said that it doesn’t matter as long as I laugh. That was when I first felt my face heat up and stomach bubble.

But whenever I was with him I did notice the glares I received from girls, it was intimidating. But he didn’t care about them, he’d tell me not to worry about them, as he would bring me to face him with his warm hand that felt like it was meant to be there and remind me not to worry.

We had lunch together for about two months and I would have considered us pretty close.

I’d always catch him staring as he did with me, to say that I hadn’t developed feelings for him would have been a lie.

I’d make sure to hug him goodbye everytime we parted and each hug got longer, I was sure I would never let him go.

When we’d walk side by side and our hands would brush I’d get shivers and butterflies would erupt in my stomach.

His eye contact alone would make my heart melt, his laugh was music to my ears.

His every movement and expression made my heart clench and twist.

But I didn’t know how he felt.

And we were friends.

Just friends, as much as I wanted to change that.

I couldn’t. I valued our friendship too much.

In the mornings he would bring me tea from the café and I always loved how caring and attentive he was.

He was my best friend and someone I grew to care so deeply about in those first two months.

But It only lasted two months.

He pulls me out of my thinking by placing his hand on mine, it’s warm, almost comforting. But then I realise he is the reason I’m so upset.

How careless can someone be to break someone's phone and not even apologise about it?

“We’d be good together.” He doesn’t even hesitate a moment before saying that as if it’s the easiest thing to say.

As if we don’t hate each other's guts.

I blink.

It’s as if I can feel my eyes monumentally widen, granting him an incredulous stare, “You’re kidding.” I state in disbelief, ready for him to laugh at my shock. To tell me he was joking, just to get a rise out of me.

Except that never comes. Minho just stares back, eyes relaxed, unlike mine that are round in shock and confusion.

I wait for him to backtrack, to make some sort of excuse for this random burst of strange behaviour, but he doesn’t. Instead, he looks at his finished plate, reminding me that I probably should eat mine. His gaze shifts to his glass half full, as if to steady himself.

“Minho,” I begin, unsure of what I’m even going to say in response to his bold statement.

Fortunately, I find that I don’t need to bother connecting the pieces of the puzzle, as he immediately speaks up.

“Listen,” he requests and it's not like I have anything to say anyway, “We’re both hard workers, we’re intellectually compatible, we both come from prestigious backgrounds. And we're both attractive.”

I hate the fact that I’m not arguing back, but I'm at a loss for words. Also, I’m taken aback. Lee Minho thinks I’m attractive. If he said this when we first met I would have been thrilled.

I hate the fact that my face is flushing a bright fuchsia.

He continues, “We won’t get annoyed if the other person is working hard and doesn’t have much time for the other as it's standard for our families and we have the same sense of humour-”

“Okay Minho, I get it,” I cut him off, feeling a sense of overwhelm take over me completely.

It’s rare for Minho to leave me speechless, it’s rare for me to not knock him down a few pegs with a snarky reply.

But I can't think of anything to say.

His sheer presence right now at this moment is overbearing.

I stare down at my food and continue picking at it, my appetite being completely lost.

Minho sighs and leans back in his chair, “I’m just saying, you know?”

God, I wish he’d stop talking.

“Minho, can we please stop talking?!” I snap at him.

His eyes go wide for a moment as if he didn’t expect the outlash almost as if I’d be kind to him after what he said.

“Yeah, okay… let's just finish this then leave.”

I start reluctantly cutting through the 24k golden steak, and I take a bite. It’s good quality, obviously, and I understand why the price is this high. I just wish I could actually enjoy the food instead of overthinking what Minho said.

Bitter memories of two years ago rush through my head again and I start remembering how stupid he made me feel… especially when I found out what he really thought about me from other people.

It’s ironic, really.

Hard workers, intellectually compatible, he said? Too bad I know the truth behind his words.

I know he doesn’t see me as an equal, and I know he would never like me for me. What he wants is that prestigious background of mine he mentioned. It felt like a punch in the gut that he called me attractive. It just reminded me of how naïve I was before, to think he would actually see me, be into me, like me.

How stupid I was.

That’s the thing about Minho. You never know his thoughts. He can and will make you feel like you’re the apple of his eye, but he’s just doing whatever he can to follow through with his plans. He’s just like that.

I manage to finish the small steak on my plate and sigh in relief that the dinner is finally over.

And then the server brings out the desserts.

Fuck, I forgot I ordered this.

The Frrrozen Haute Chocolate. Essentially, a ridiculously priced sundae topped with edible gold that comes in a cup adorned with gold and diamonds.

I just want to go home. I think while fidgeting the golden spoon and looking once again at my broken phone on the table.

Did Hyunjin message me again?

Was he worried that I didn’t see his messages?

Did he go on a fake date?

He did say he had work tonight…

Fuck, why do I feel this stinging in my heart when I think he’s going on these dates? It’s not like he’s my real boyfriend.

“How’s the dessert?” Minho asks, probably noticing how low-hearted I still am and how the only interesting thing in the world for me seems to be the golden spoon.

“Just desserts.” I mumble, remembering hearing a song with this title a while ago and finding it so genius. I always enjoyed witty amalgamations like this. Justice hurts. Oh, or Champagne, which could be Sham pain, or even shame + pain if you squint your eyes hard enough.

Haha.

Or even: everyday is a chore - everyday is torture.

Family jewels - Family duels.

Are you satisfied? - Are you sad inside?

These are so fun. I smile a bit, and raise my eyes, glancing at Minho. He seems once again amused, and I tilt my head.

“Oh yea, justice does hurt sometimes, right? I remember we had a class about that in first year.”

My smile drops.

Being alone with him like this reminds me of the time we used to get along, and I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. He still understands my jokes, we still share the same humour. He was right.

I just hoped that would be enough for him to like me and see my worth.

But he didn’t.

He still doesn’t.

And he never will.

He’s just like my dad.

“Do you remember? When the professor told us about the guy with the carpenter business-”

“I remember.” I cut him off sporting a fake smile, and taste the dessert.

Sweet, sugary nonsense.

Just like Minho’s words.

When we are done eating, I pick up my purse from the chair with anticipation. However, Minho seems to have other plans, as he signals to the waiter.

“Yes, sir?” He asks with a bow.

“I’d like a whiskey. Double, please, no ice. Pearl?”

“Uhm…” I mumble, hating that he put me on the spot like this. All the sourness from earlier when I ordered thousands of dollars of food and drinks is gone, and now I just feel stupid. “A Margarita?”

“Coming right up.” The waiter bows again and leaves, and I am once again left fidgeting the straps of my bag and seeing how relaxed Minho leans in his chair.

“What?” He asks amused.

“What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” He smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“Why do you want to prolong this stupid dinner?”

“Why not? I very much enjoy your company.”

“Well, the feeling is not mutual.”

“Isn’t it?” he smirks again. The waiter returns with our drinks, so he takes a big sip. “I remember it used to be, though.” He takes another big sip.

“Don’t get drunk, I don’t want to have to take care of you.” I roll my eyes and pick up my own cocktail, taking a sip as well and ignoring his words.

“You’re just going to brush over everything I say? Like you did 2 years ago?” He tilts his head, and he suddenly looks unamused. I just shrug and drink the Margarita.

“Ok then.” He shifts in his seat, and leans on the table. “I was thinking about Spring or Autumn.”

“What for?”

“Our wedding, of course. What else?”

“Minho, drop it. I don’t want to get married to you, okay? Besides, I have a boyfriend. How many times should I repeat that for you and my father to get it?!”

“Pearl,” he starts in a similar manner as I did. “I’m just saying you should reconsider, and think about your favourite season.”

“I can’t believe you.” I scoff. “What, you broke up with that girl from the club and now want me to be miserable as well? I’m very much in love, and don’t WANT any stupid wedding, thank you! Now finish that drink already and let’s fucking go!” My patience is running thin, and he seems to finally take me seriously for the first time tonight.

He drinks down the remainder of his whiskey in a gulp and signals me to get up, guiding me outside. Neither of us says anything.

To my relief, there are two cars waiting for us, which means that the bitter night with Minho is finally over. Still silent, he opens the door for me and helps me get in the car. No goodbye, no nothing.

I don’t speak either. Instead, I just look ahead and hope he’ll just close the door, which he is quick to do as soon as he sees I’m settled in.

I get home about 15 minutes later, and I head directly to my room, ignoring my parents’ questions asking me how the date went.

I don’t want to talk to anyone.

I lock the door and go to my vanity, taking off my make-up.

I then throw my dress on the ground and plop myself on the bed naked, covering my body with the soft duvet.

I’m so tired.

It was such an emotionally draining day.

What is Hyunjin doing now?

Is he having fun?

Does he think about me at all?

I sigh, making a mental note to drop by the Apple Store and buy a new phone tomorrow.

Closing my eyes, I fall asleep, dreading that tomorrow will be Monday and I’m going to have to see Minho again.

~

Part Two | Part Four (coming soon)

~

A/N: Hello, long time no see! Unfortunately, this story will have very slow updates. Sorry about that!

Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

The Darkest Of Angels

The latest instalment in the MAD MAX series, FURIOSA, is not as inventive as its predecessor, FURY ROAD. There are few moments to match the kooky joy of seeing the DOOF WARRIOR thrashing his guitar made out of a bedpan, atop a truck full of Taiko drummers in this movie. But FURIOSA delivered, and not in the ways expected. It is dark. A post-nuclear Dickensian western. A harrowing tale of an orphan taken to the Wasteland workhouse. With no inheritance to save her day, she wants revenge. There's plenty of George Miller’s signature kinetic storytelling. This isn't mere mayhem, but a thoughtful meditation on war, revenge, grief, and hope, told in 5 chapters.

1: The Pole of Inaccessibility

“Do Not Look Away, You Mustn’t Look Away.”

The tale begins in the “Green Place”, an EDEN hidden in the Wasteland. Instead of an apple, a peach is plucked by a little girl - a much younger FURIOSA. For the first hour, the titular character is played by Alyla Browne, who gives an absolutely riveting performance. Many of the traumatic moments that will shape the character are dealt with by this incredible young actor. 

Furiosa is soon kidnapped by the motorbike crazies that populate the MAD MAX films. Unfortunately for the goons, Furiosa’s mum MARY JABASSA is a veritable fury, and relentlessly hunts them down. Played by Charlee Fraser, the character isn’t in the story for long but she absolutely fizzes with intensity while she’s on screen. Leaving a white hot afterglow that lasts for the rest of the film. Unfortunately, she is soon dealt with by the villain of the tale. 

When we first meet DEMENTUS, he is clothed in white robes, like a desert messiah in his tent. Hemsworth’s performance is one of the highlights of the film. Dementus has a rural Australian accent, and a speaking style reminiscent of earlier generations. This may be lost on anyone without a small town Australian grandfather, but for me it had a chilling effect. At once folksy, familiar and terrifying. Most of the quotable lines from this film are from Dementus. He’s a bad egg, but eminently watchable. A Long John Silver of the desert.

2: Lessons from the Wasteland

"Who's got the goods? The bollocks, the testes to ride with Dementus?! "

Anya Taylor-Joy was arresting, and did wonders with a largely non verbal role. She was a strange choice for the role though. Alyla Browne believably played a child version of Charlize Theron, but Anya Taylor-Joy’s distinctive features and slight frame aren’t going to look like Theron in 10-15 years time. 

When Charlize Theron’s FURIOSA spoke with a north American accent in FURY ROAD, I accepted it as possible in Miller’s Wasteland. After all, we’d already learned years ago that way out in the middle of the outback, you might meet... TINA TURNER. So yeah, that accent made sense in 2015. However, we now know that Furiosa’s parents and childhood accent were both Australian. Then, she somehow acquires a North American accent growing up in the Citadel. Surrounded by Aussie War Boys?

George Miller deservedly gets praise for his imaginative visual world building and storytelling, but sometimes his world doesn’t make ‘sense’. I know that these films are best taken as kinetic & operatic comic books, taking place in a mythic world. However, inconsistencies sometimes break the spell, popping me out of the movie watching experience, to ask real world questions. 

However, Tom Burke’s Aussie accent was flawless, and his turn as PRAETORIAN JACK was wonderful. A stoic character, with as many wounds and losses as any other wretch in this misbegotten landscape, but who hasn’t lost the ability to be humane.

3: The Stowaway

“Didja see that? How they fought for each other, this little army of two? Where were they going, so full of hope?”

Each MAD MAX film thus far took us to a completely new part of the Wasteland. FURIOSA too shows us a new location, the Green Place. Experienced for mere moments, before being hauled to locations we’d previously seen in FURY ROAD. 

Though shown 15-20 years earlier, they looked exactly the same. Instead of seeing The Citadel only partially built, ruled by a younger Immortan Joe (perhaps not yet needing his mask, but already showing the signs of physical frailties?) characters & locations look as they did in a movie set 15-20 years later.The only character who shows the passage of time is Furiosa herself. 

George Miller takes big swings with these MAD MAX films, but in completely different ways with each one. FURIOSA is back to a revenge story, which is where the series began, but with a completely different structure this time. Ending on a dialogue in the desert, instead of blow-the-hinges off action sequence. After the excitement of what came before, a verbal showdown in the desert was anticlimactic for some. ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST, climaxing with jibber jabber instead of Leone’s gunfight. For me though, this ending (and Hemsworth’s speech) was one of the high points of the film.

The film has many images that stay with me - A time-lapse shot of a young tree growing from a discarded wig. A lizard eats flies buzzing around a skull in the desert, only to be crushed under a racing motorbike tire. Parasailing marauders attack a giant truck from the sky. The sadistically twisted villain wears a child’s teddy bear. Owned by a victim? Or his own children from long ago? What a grimly beautiful world this is.

4: Homeward

“There will always be war. But to get home, Furiosa fought the world.”

Some critics said FURIOSA was “an epic slice of myth-making”, while others called it “a joyless, pointless, pretentious and inartistic slog”. Generally though, critical response was effusive. 90% on Rotten Tomatoes with an 89% audience score. Interestingly, these action films are consistently rated higher by critics than by audiences:

FURIOSA: 90%/89% FURY ROAD: 97%/86%  BEYOND THUNDERDOME: 79%/49%  ROAD WARRIOR: 94%/86%  MAD MAX: 90%/70% 

Also interesting, is that FURIOSA’s audience score is the highest of all the 5 films. Stranger still is that this favourable response didn’t result in box office success.. There are many theories as to why this is so. Although some say that this is the best prequel ever, any prequel is by definition unnecessary. Perhaps those that focus on a sidekick character will have a harder time connecting with audiences. Especially if the franchise’s main character is a no show. (Likewise, SHORT ROUND: AN INDIANA JONES SAGA might tank at the box office too, if Indy only has a cameo of mere seconds.)

This gets to why an audience decides to go see a movie. Personally, I just needed to know that George Miller - a director I’ve followed since my teens - was making another movie. That’s it. I was already in line before I knew what it was about. But most people, even MAD MAX fans, lost interest when they heard the famous character wasn’t in it. Joe & Jane Public bond with actors and characters. Directors not so much.

5. Beyond Vengeance

“D’ya have it in ya to make it epic?”

Movies used to be cheap entertainment, that audiences could afford to take a chance on, but they are expensive nowadays. Especially with all the bells & whistles of IMAX and reserved seating. People have been burned so many times by gushing press luring them to lame movies, that positive reviews and ‘buzz’ are now simply assumed to be studio psyops. Flatly ignored. Instead, if it’s a film they are unsure of, many prefer to wait a few weeks and try movies at home, affordably. On the big screen TVs & sound systems bought during the pandemic.

Given FURIOSA’s poor box office, we may never get the 6th instalment in the MAD MAX saga; WASTELAND. Which makes me regret that George Miller hadn’t made that film before this one. FURIOSA isn’t my fave of the MAD MAX films, but ranks high in my personal list. A fantastic addition to this series, that deserved more success than it got, sadly. Seeing George Miller stretch himself, in this mythic world he has constructed over decades, is a true cinematic joy.

“To feel alive, we seek sensation — any sensation to wash away the cranky black sorrow!”

[fernandopiastri28]

quand c’est - part 6 ~ ln4 x op81

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

Yet now at 24, he feels a shell of that aspiring kid. The one who truly believed he would be a world champion. That dream, the realness of it seems to have fizzled. Not just because of the diagnosis, but because he knows Oscar, he sees Oscar’s raw talent in his second year of racing. He saw it in Oscar’s rookie year too- and he knows he’ll never have that.

Warnings: sickness, illness, cancer

Lando wakes up, and he’s still sick. It’s expected- no one recovers from brain cancer in a matter of hours, but a part of him continues to believe this is some awful nightmare or a really sick joke.

It must’ve been a fair few hours since he’d gotten the news, because it’s already getting dark outside again.

Lando’s blurry vision slowly clears up the more he blinks. He tries his best to sit up, his arms not complying with him- heavy with the weight of being pierced with IVs and drips.

He leans over as best as he could, a slow calculated move. He checks his phone, calls and messages as far as he could see from his family and the other drivers.

Carlos: Landito

Carlos: Landito are you okay?

Carlos: Is Oscar taking care of you?

Carlos: Mierda

Carlos: You are in my thoughts and prayers. It was a bad crash.

Thanks for the reminder Carlos, Lando fucking knew it was an awful crash. An awful crash during an awful race from an awful driver. Just awful.

Daniel: Lando mate r u aluroght?

Daniel: *alright

Daniel: thinkin of u rn mate

Daniel: i hope you’re feeling better

Lando wonders how many people knew he was in the hospital. He wonders if Oscar had been calling anyone else beyond Logan to talk about how Lando was an insane man who had no care for his own health.

Max V: Hello Lando. I hope you are feeling well and are doing okay. Cannot wait to see you in cota you absolute weapon. You’ll be bonzer.

Max V: Daniel taught me that word. I think it is bonzer or bonza. Not sure

Lando smiles at Max’s messages, his body hurting too much to be able to laugh. Clearly the dutch man has been spending far too much with Daniel as his dialect was becoming more like the Australian’s each day.

Max V: Daniel is very worried for you, I am too.

He presses onto his chat with his mum, clicking to call her. He has 12 missed calls from her, no doubt about whether she knew about not only the hospital, but also the diagnosis. Oscar would’ve been on top of that.

It feels nice to hear his mum’s voice on the other end of the call, even if her voice was scratchy and hard to understand from crying. He asks about his sisters and brother, trying to skirt around the elephant in the room.

When the phone call eventually ends, he swipes his hand over Oscar’s mess of hair. It’s no longer that perfect swoop, more like how he remembered it being in Singapore a year ago, stuck to his forehead and falling down with the humidity.

It’s strange to think of anything about Singapore last year now. Strange to think about his first time being on the podium with his best friend. Strange to think about the ice baths with Oscar, playing padel with George, the feeling of being so disgustingly sweaty at the end of the race- but pure adrenaline and joy overpowering that discomfort.

Now he was left rotting away in a hospital bed, unable to do those same simple and ‘mundane’ tasks.

He misses George, for some reason, a lot.

And Alex, he misses the 2019 rookies group. He misses the beginning of his F1 career- where he didn’t have a care in the world and truly believed he was ‘exceptional’ for being at the top category of motor sports at 18.

Yet now at 24, he feels a shell of that aspiring kid. The one who truly believed he would be a world champion. That dream, the realness of it seems to have fizzled. Not just because of the diagnosis, but because he knows Oscar, he sees Oscar’s raw talent in his second year of racing. He saw it in Oscar’s rookie year too- and he knows he’ll never have that.

If there’s going to be a world champion of either of them, It’ll be Oscar, and it kills Lando that he has to be happy for Oscar knowing that.

~~

A nurse comes in every hour on the dot to either give him another round of either medicine or to note down how his body is reacting to the painkillers. To be fair, he does feel relatively good. His head doesn’t hurt, and he doesn’t really feel anything at all.

Oscar wakes up after a while and just sits with him, making some dry jokes in an attempt to make Lando laugh. He doesn’t laugh as much as he usually would, but that’s because he sometimes only catches every second word. He’s sure Oscar’s being pretty funny though, so sometimes he laughs for the sake of ensuring Oscar keeps talking.

Lando has energy for one thing, and one thing only- kissing. Oscar’s wary about that, cautious like a few little pecks are going to absolutely destroy Lando.

To Lando, he has already braced himself for the fact that he’s going to change with the effects of surgery and chemo- mentally and physically. Maybe future Lando won’t want to kiss Oscar as much.

And maybe he’ll get so ugly that Oscar won’t want to kiss Lando either.

But Oscar caves, as he usually does, and it’s so sweet, so perfect. They kiss, and Oscar laughs into Lando’s mouth when he makes a stupid one liner, not funny to anyone other than Oscar, who is the easiest person in the world to make laugh.

Well, when it comes to Lando. Otherwise, Lando takes the cake for that title.

It feels like being a teenager again, or what Lando imagines teenage romance would’ve felt like. He was too busy with F4, F3, F2 and then obviously all the prep for F1 to ever have enough time to consider having a relationship. But being with Oscar, kissing in a hospital room and quickly separating when a doctor or a nurse walks in is just like how it’s described in movies.

Before Oscar, he only dated Luisinha, which besides the off season and some weekends that weren’t race weekends, he’s never really had time with his partner to be like this.

He has as much of Oscar as he wants right now, has all the time in the world to kiss and cuddle and laugh and talk without having a hundred cameras in their faces.

Lando wants to stay like this forever. Forever adoring, forever adored.

~~

After a few days, the doctors rule him ‘well enough’ to be discharged, which isn’t even something Lando thought would happen. Clearly he’s got a lot about brain cancer to research, because he truly believed he’d be permanently hospital bound.

In reality, he’s only leaving to go back to Monaco and have the surgery there. If he had the surgery in Singapore, he’d be stuck there for months. As much as he likes Singapore- it’s not home, and it’s so humid.

The doctors that have been treating him in Singapore have been in contact with a set of surgeons at a private hospital in Monaco- discussing each precise detail to the tumour and the ideal route of how to remove it. Lando doesn’t listen when the doctors describe it to him, he goes to his happy place instead.

Miami, Florida- the 5th of May 2024

Oscar does listen on the other hand. He’s attentive, noting down each piece of information onto a little pocket book Logan had given the aussie for his birthday back in April. Where Lando zones out and goes spacey, Oscar remembers everything so he can explain it to Lando if he wants to know.

However, Lando does sometimes listen when they speak about the time after the surgery. It isn’t clear when he’s going to be able to race again as it all depends on how much of the tumour they’re able to remove and how his body will react to the chemotherapy.

COTA is completely out of the picture in terms of what he might be able to race in, and to be fair, the rest of the season is a wary grey area. Anything beyond Australia at the beginning of next year just seems too soon, as recovery from brain tumour surgery is 6-12 weeks, and that’s for normal activities- much less racing F1 cars.

For once, he decides to take that advice. Not listening to someone who was genuinely looking out for his health got him into this situation, badly bruised up from a crash on top of the existing tumour and cancer.

Oscar helps draft out an email from Lando to the McLaren team, explaining a situation they are already completely caught up on. Lando watches Oscar’s fingers tap across his laptop keyboard, using all the fancy jargon that Lando wouldn’t even know exists.

If he’s lucky and the tumour can be successfully removed, the doctors tell him he’ll return to his old self. He won’t have the headaches, the brain fog, the poor vision, the nausea. He’ll just be Lando Norris again- maybe slightly different, but better than now.

They don’t like to discuss what will happen if he’s unlucky though.

The bad thing about the tumour is that even though they are able to shrink it through chemotherapy if the surgery is unsuccessful, they’re not sure of the exact spread of it through his brain just yet. The MRI scan didn’t show the complete extent of the tumour, so they won’t know just how bad the situation is until they actually get in there for the surgery.

That’s the exact reason they’re pushing for it to happen as soon as possible- within the week ideally. Because the longer they wait, the more it spreads.

Lando’s had so many doctors and nurses tell him he was lucky that he crashed and ended up in hospital, as it was likely that the tumour would have remained undetected for a solid few more weeks, which could’ve killed him if he left it any longer than he did.

But Lando can’t help but think if he really was lucky, he wouldn’t be in this situation. He wouldn’t have a growing brain tumour, he wouldn't be in hospital, he wouldn’t be going in for surgery.

He’d be racing, he’d be on podiums- he’d be fine.

[imagitory]

So my mum and I were revisiting one of our all-time favorite Christmas movies, The Muppet Christmas Carol, and I think maybe -- just maybe -- there's some really fun symbolism we've all been missing out on. And it all has to do with our main character Scrooge and the color red.

Okay, so at the beginning of the film, Scrooge is in all black, from head to toe. It makes him this wonderful dark shadow over the rest of the cast, and also makes him immediately stand out when he's in public, since everyone else is much more colorfully dressed.

Contrast this especially to the people who are closest to him, Bob Crachit and his nephew Fred.

Well, well, isn't this interesting...both of them have red in their costumes. Even later on, at Fred's Christmas party, we see his wife also wearing red.

The Ghost of Christmas Present -- the ghost who in this film arguably influences Scrooge the most out of all of them -- has a bright red beard...

Oh yes, and we mustn't forget that our favorite narrator "Charles Dickens" is also wearing a bright red coat. (Even his friend Rizzo has some red in his scarf.)

Red as a color can mean lots of different things symbolically -- violence, passion, anger, courage, danger...but I think the one most relevant to this reading is love and warmth. Why? Because even when we see Scrooge as a young man prior to the "all black" treatment, his definitive color is a dark blue.

Notice how much cooler young Scrooge's overall color palette is compared to the much flashier, rosier Fozziwig. (And yes, I think that rosy palette is on purpose -- in the film, Scrooge even describes Fozziwig as being "as hard and as ruthless as a rose petal.") It also makes it so that when Scrooge meets Belle (at this point dressed in pale green with pink rose details), their palettes compliment each other a little bit more, even if Belle's look is still softer, lighter, and warmer in tone to Scrooge's cool, serious ensemble.

But when Belle and Scrooge part ways, we see them wearing colors that contrast much more. Scrooge is still in cool, detached blue, but Belle is in...

Red. Specifically, like Bob and Fred, she has red right around her neck, in the form of her bonnet's ribbon. And it's presumed that over time, after losing Belle and withdrawing more into himself and his own greedy self interest, that Scrooge lost the remaining color of his life and became the cold, black-hearted moneylender we see in the film.

Then of course Scrooge goes through this radical transformation thanks to the Ghosts of Christmas, as we all know...and the very first Christmas present he receives, as a thank you for his charity, is from one of the charity workers, played by Beaker. What is it?

A red scarf.

It's a gift given in the spur of the moment, and yet from Scrooge's reaction, we can tell it's something foreign to him. It's likely it's been ages since he's received such a modest, and yet heartfelt gift from anyone. Scrooge feels the warmth of the gesture, not just because a scarf keeps one's neck warm, but because it was given out of such sincere gratitude and kindness. And as startled as he is by it, he responds with such sincere joy, and wears it happily for the rest of the day. He wears that warmth as easily as Fred and Bob wore it earlier in the film -- as if it's become a part of him. And in a strange way, it has.

For the first time, arguably in his whole life, Scrooge has a true understanding of selfless, loving warmth. The warmth that he should and does feel for the people most central to his life and identity -- his nephew and niece-in-law, his loyal subordinate, his first employer, his first love...even the Spirits who taught him the true "meaning of the season." A kind, generous warmth that permeates the entire story of A Christmas Carol because it's what Charles Dickens loved so much about the holiday season and so wished to spark in his audience.

[azari-31]

Two worlds collide - Namor x OC/reader

A/U: so.... it's finally here. Im bad at writing a romantic non angst things, cuz i love angst. I had no idea how to write some scenes, but maybe in a few weeks i'll update it with this missing scenes. For now - enjoy this "masterpiece". Sorry for some mistakes, but i'm not good at english as i want to be. the end. now...

Enjoy!

words; 3700-ish

She hid behind the column and prayed to any deity to stay unseen. Tears ran from her eyes and a silent sob escaped her mouth. She wanted to come back home, to hug her mum. She wanted to reunite with her mother! 

The blue people were killing everyone one by one. Screams of guards and priests hurt her ears. She covered them with her small hands, but it didn't help much. That was horrifying. Unconsciously, Azula called to her magic and a fire ring appeared around her protecting her from anyone.

Soon after everything ended. 

Screams and yanking of steel; everything went silent. The only sounds were grunts of dying soldiers. Girl managed to open her eyes and looked at the battlefield. Flames slowly went out and left a burned mark on the ground.

A young boy looked at her and offered his hand. He spoke something to her in an unknown language. Terrified, she was looking at him for a relatively long time until one of her fellow prisoners said to her. 

-He's asking you to join him. - the closest woman translated the newcomer's words. - He said he sees your talent and that he can provide you with shelter. 

-Why? - she turned to this boy and the chains on her ankles crunched. Azula felt as the blood flowed down from wounds. She was weak. Very weak. Girl stumbled, but quickly regained her balance. Chains weighed her down and irritated her wounds. Pain was almost unbearable. She clenched her teeth.

In a matter of seconds one foreign warrior came to her and broke her shackles. With no word she grabbed the warrior’s arm and rested all of her weight on him. Girl didn’t even notice K’uk’ulkan walking towards her.

-Friends? - she looked surprised at the boy's hand and then at him. He wanted to be her friend? It was strange and uncommon for her. 

She took a glimpse at the surroundings and finally answered:

-Friends. - flame in her eyes ignited with joy in her heart. 

~*~

Many years have passed. Azula has excelled at magic as a witch. Her body was adjusted and used to do more demanding and experienced magic. A curse of fire in her blood was still a problem, but thanks to Namor it wasn’t that much of a problem. 

After all these years her friendship with the king of Talokan grew stronger. They were inseparable. They could end each other’s sentences like they read their minds. This bond was something they needed. Both of them had time and no biological family to love. Two kids from different worlds – the surface and underwater. Something no one could think would work. Their feelings grew stronger and suddenly they couldn’t live without each other. 

Azula was doing some ancient ritual when Namor came out of the sea. Spirits of the dead were surrounding her and the campfire. It was the time of year, when the spirits of ancestors wanted to meet with the living ones, but in Azula’s tradition it was about giving power to the dead. Her clan believed spirits had to consume their descendants’ magic to be able to survive. 

Namor sat down on the rock silently and watched her moves with admiration. This woman was graceful and delicate despite the power that was surging inside. He saw a few burns and wounds from her fire. They made beautiful marks like tattoos, but painful. Many times he had to tend to her wounds, because she was exhausted.

-I got you, Mi Reina. - he said as he caught her. The love for her was so strong. 

-K’uk’ulkan. - a smile appeared on her face at the same moment as she saw his face. - Thank you.

-You know I could burn the world for you. - he caressed her face and kissed her forehead. 

-It’s my thing, Elio. Your domain is water and stick to it. - she winked with greater smile.

~*~

She barged into the ruined throne room right after M’Baku. She looked around and her eyes stopped at one point. There he was, in the broken window, looking at the young crying princess. For a second she laid eyes on the floor and saw Ramonda’s unconscious body. From that moment everything went silent.

-Bury the dead. Mourn your losses. You’re the Queen now. - Suddenly, the meaning of Namor’s words came to the witch. One look at the scene; Shuri stopped by M’Baku, Okoye and Nakia trying to resuscitate Ramonda and Riri. This was enough for her. K’uk’ulkan looked at Azula for the last time before he decided to go back. Her rage turned into blue-ish flames covering her arms.

-Estas muerto, Namor. - she threatened and sent a fireball at him. Before Namor disappeared, she could see the betrayal in his eyes. When he was already gone, she snapped out of trans and didn’t think twice of what she was doing. The flames vanished spontaneously leaving her skin burned.

Okoye was still trying to resuscitate Ramonda, but her efforts were in vain

-She has passed. - silent words came out of Nakia’s mouth. Everyone heard it, but not Azula. Witch forced her whole body to move. As she was close, she pushed Okoye away and kneeled beside Ramonda. Azula took a knife out of her pocket and cut the inside of her hand. Then she put it on the queen’s chest, tainting the material of the dress.  

-It’s not too late. - Azula said to herself. - There’s still hope. I feel her spirit. - she wiped tears away from her face and started some incantations. Her voice was cracking, breaking every few words. Even breath control didn’t help. She put everything in that spell; her emotions, feelings, even her soul. Damn it, she would sell it to Satan himself if she could. She couldn’t fail this time, she just couldn’t.

Witch felt the curse kicking in, but it didn’t stop her, even made her sacrifice more for a friend. The feeling of her magic devouring her from inside was excruciatingly painful. At some point she heard her scream. Azula forced every molecule of her body to do as she commanded. The flames subtly covered Ramonda’s body and pumped life energy inside.

Suddenly she encountered a void. An empty vessel without even the smallest signs of life. Azula’s magic hasn't had anything to become an anchor. Nothing worked. Even draining from her life forces didn't help. Flame in her dangerously dimmed inside.

Like behind the mist, she saw Shuri crying over her mother's corpses. She failed. Again. Tears started to flow from her eyes and blurring her vision. Drained out of energy, Azula barely stood up by herself. She looked at the ruined throne room and tragedy in front of her before she left them. She had unfinished business with someone. 

~*~

Azula entered Namor’s chamber like it was her own. Inside she encountered his third-in-command. They weren’t friends for a long time, but now this “not caring about the other” turned into hatred. 

-Leave us alone. - she commanded with her strong voice, but the warrior didn’t even flinch. Commander waited for her King’s reaction. He nodded and the talokanian warrior left the room. From now on they were the only people inside. The silence between them was terrifying and tension was almost touchable.

-Long time no see, Zaz… - he wanted to greet his friend, but didn’t have a chance. She pushed away his hands. Next thing she did was attack him verbally. 

-Cut that shit, Namor. We both know what you did. 

-So it's no longer 'Mi Corazón'? Not even Elio? - he asked playfully, with a little bit of sarcasm. But under this facade he hid the little fear. She had magic in her possession. Five hundred years of magical experience and knowledge. 

-You attacked Wakanda against our agreements. - The witch's voice was harsh and washed from emotions. - The country of my beloved friend! 

-They didn’t pick a side and that was my warning. And now I need you to help me destroy them once and for all. - the calm in his voice sent chills down her spine. For a moment she forgot how dangerous he was. Underwater, in his domain, she had low chances for winning in a direct fight. Of course Azula could beat him, even kill him, but it required time. And he wouldn’t give her that in a fight. 

-You killed their Queen! - she shouted, but her voice seemed flat, once again washed from any form of emotion. Her eyes were piercing his very soul. He wanted to flinch, but his pride didn't let him. When he looked at her, in her irises he saw something that he didn't think he would see again. It was something primal, something wild and untamed. Something from her past.

-That was necessary. And I don’t owe you any explanation. - he said and looked away from her piercing gaze. It was often fascinating, but this time it was paralyzing. Sometimes he felt like beneath Azula’s skin a monster was hidden. Like she was a monster in human flesh. Or rather unsatisfied, ferocious flame.

-I can curse you forever and you will never experience the feeling of water again. - she started her tirade on him. She didn’t even try to hold her magic anymore. She wanted to do a scary spectacle. - I can make you as weak as the human race is, even weaker than them. - woman threatened him with magic focused in the palm of her hand. 

Her fingers touched his skin subtly as the magic tightened its grip on his throat. Suddenly he felt like his power and vitals left him. The feeling lasted only for a short amount of time, but it was strange, almost frightening for him. Now he knew Azula thrived as a magic user and was much more powerful than before, when she left Talokan and him for the surface world. But still he didn’t know her full potential, neither did she. 

-Even then I will not change my decision. - he hissed through his teeth. He couldn't let her know how scared he was. - My people will follow me and do everything to protect Talokan. - he answered with confidence and calm worthy of the greatest king and warrior. 

-You’re ready to start a war with the surface? - Azula was surprised by the decision of her friend and the idiocy of the plan. But the rage was more powerful and it quickly covered every other thoughts and emotions. - Fully knowing the consequences of not having an alliance with Wakanda? Or any powerful ally? 

-I won't make a pact with them anymore. They had their chance. - he turned to the paintings and it looked like he studied it for a moment. The picture showed a short story about how Azula met him and became the Protector of this city. And his heart. - And they rejected my offer.

-Why? - she asked while holding her anger and grief in check. They both knew bad emotions were the best fuel for her dark magic, even better than sacrifices. He learnt it the wrong way a long time ago and didn't want a reround. 

-One of them killed a guard. - as the meaning of words came to her, she looked at him stunned. Someone didn’t tell her all the facts and truth. She knew Talokanil meant everything to Namor. He could do anything for them, even die if that meant he protected them. The fact that someone killed one of his subjects was terrifying. For sure it was Nakia, because Shuri and Riri had no weapons to execute anyone. - That is the real reason for my aggression towards Wakanda. That’s how Talokanil and K’uk’ulkan return the favor.

-Tell me one thing. - she asked, fighting with the urge to destroy something and crying from helplessness. She kept her composure with the last piece of energy she had left. - Why am I not even surprised by what you want to do? - the pain in her voice was almost touchable for the ruler of the underwater kingdom. - You killed their queen, destroyed their capital and you want more?!

-I'll bring justice for my people.

-That’s not justice! That was pure revenge. - she hissed. Magic flames almost covered her irises for a brief moment. And yet he took a step towards her. 

-I must secure Talokan’s future. That was always my goal and you knew it from the beginning of our relation. - K’uk’ulkan answered confidently, trying to keep his emotions and feelings hidden. Now he wasn’t sure about which side Azula picked. Just in case, he must’ve been prepared for everything. - And Wakanda will be our warning for the surface world. 

-I could kill you right now ‘cause of your broken promise. - she warned him while she stepped further from him. The feeling of her magic surprised him again. It was climbing from his feet. They looked deeply in each other's eyes fighting a wordless battle. The face of a man she loved so deeply for years; now she didn’t recognize it, like it belonged to a completely different person.

-We were friends once. Why can’t we go back to those times? - he asked, and his look softened. He tucked a strand of her hair in his fingers and gently put it behind her ear. She knew he was trying to make her choose him, but she already decided. - Join me and … - he started, but the witch stopped him in the middle of the sentence. 

-In the name of the friendship we once shared, from the respect to each other we once had I won’t kill you this time. - she said and turned her back to him. She made a few steps to the doors, but stopped about 1 meter in front of the exit. - Next time we’ll meet on the battlefield… We won’t fight on the same side. And I won't be that merciful as I am today. - K’uk’ulkan noticed gathering tears in her eyes. Instincts forced him to wipe them away, but he resisted this urge. It wasn’t appropriate and wanted by her. It would end terribly for both of them. 

-Azula… - he tried again, but he failed once more. All his thoughts were focused on this woman and how he could persuade her to stay with him and fight by his side. He couldn’t lose her as an ally, but mostly as a friend. Not because she was powerful, but because she was the closest person he had after his mother. But something she said next broke his heart into a million pieces irrevocably.

-You really are a niño sin amor. - she said before vanishing from Namor’s chamber. A one single drop of tear rolled down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away. Today she lost two of her friends. How much must she lose before she can live peacefully? - she asked herself while she went back to her room in Wakanda's palace. She only prayed that the upcoming war won't end by his or Shuri’s death.

Why does she always have to suffer? Why can’t anything go strictly as it was planned? And why does it always involve hurting someone close to her?

~*~

She sat alone on a rock for a long time now thinking about everything that happened. She knew she did everything she could, but couldn’t help herself. She blamed herself for Ramonda’s and T’Challa’s deaths. She could prevent those events from happening, but she failed. And now she had to pay the price.

-Zaz? - he asked, surprised while walking out of the water. He didn’t expect her coming to Talokan nor even calling him ever again. They were enemies with a shared, and maybe for her, unwanted past. But there she was, waiting for him.

-You came. - she smiled slightly. Namor could only see her right profile. Her eyes were directed into the sunset. The beach she chose meant something to both of them. They met here for the first time and became friends. 

-You called. - he answered and took a few steps in her direction. He stopped right in front of her and sat beside the rock. They watched the sunset together in complete silence. Instinctively she put her hand on Namor’s head and started playing with his hair.

In this precise moment there was nothing else, but them and the setting sun. He gently put his head on the side of her thigh. Namor just wanted to be a normal man, even for a short while. And all that mattered for her was to be with him. 

-Mi corazón. - she whispered, still looking at the horizon. It felt like they went back in time, when they were just lost, abandoned kids. - Do you remember our talk about our lifespans? - he nodded in agreement. - I wasn't entirely honest with you that day. 

-What do you mean? 

-You can live for about how many years more, huh? It's gonna be at least 500 years. We don't know that. - she shrugged without any other move - On the other hand, I knew that you would outlive me. I use dark magic and this type of magic focuses on sacrifices, like plants or animals. Or the user's life force. I did it to extend my life, but it was only temporary. I always knew that.

-But you perform sacrifices every time. You were very cautious about it. - a sad smile showed on her face for a second and quickly faded.

-I told you this a long time ago and I'm gonna tell you again. Every… 

-What did you do? - he asked, scared of what she could do or already did. He couldn't afford to lose her now. Nor ever.

-...thing has a price. And I didn't pay the price for defying death twice.

-What do you mean by "defying death"? - he asked, terrified. As the last words came out of his mouth, Azula turned to him and showed her full face. The left part was missing. It looked like it was burned. Namor looked at her in shock.

-Year ago I tried to bring T'Challa back to life. It didn't go well and from that moment I balanced between life and death. Second time was right before Shuri took the throne. I struggled with resurrecting Ramonda, but that went even worse than I expected. - she spoke last words shyly, like she didn’t want to admit it to him. Admit that she failed. Even if it was his fault.

-How long… - the man tried to ask, but he couldn't say anything.

-I have a few minutes, maybe less. - she replied shortly. - If it's about how long I hid this from you and others… - she pointed at the scarred part and tried to smile, but it didn't work. - More than a year. It became worse after T’Challa’s failed resurrection.

-No… - Namor said, still not believing in Azula's words. 

-You craved for an answer why I called you today. So here it is. I wanted to see my old friend and the love of my life for the last time. - she smiled slightly. Her answer seemed honest and genuine; no hooks or hidden meanings.

-I asked you once if you could be Mi Reina. - he smiled and joined their hands together. It felt good, like they were meant for eachother. 

-And I said 'over my dead body'. - woman chuckled quietly. 

-But you already were the queen of my heart. - He confessed and looked at her. In her eyes he saw joy and tiredness. Both feelings were fighting with each other for dominance, but neither could win. For now, all she felt was overwhelming joy. She'll die in the arms of a man she loved for so long. 

-Can I ask you for something?

-Anything for you, Mi Reina. - he couldn’t hold back his tears anymore, but he had to. That was her goodbye to the world and to him. And he couldn’t stop it.

-Try to love the surface and its people. They've changed, the world has changed. And you will find someone worth trusting. Just give them a chance. - she asked him. All she ever wanted was to be with him. Just like now, only two ordinary people, no more nor less. But that was a dream, and her dreams never came true.

-You are the only part of the surface world I love. - his attempts to hold his tears failed. Soon one tear ran down his cheek and after this another came. It shocked Azula to her core. Last time she saw Namor crying was after his mother’s death.

-But not the last. - her words were full of hope and kindness. He couldn’t believe how she could be so kind and happy and hopeful in her last moments of life. He barely believed that moment existed and it was real.

-I always loved you, Mi Reina. - he said with a fading smile. He did not hold back his tears. - And I always will. - he gently put a kiss on her forehead. 

-See? They were wrong. - she smiled through her and his tears. - You can love. - he watched as she took her last breath and her eyes closed for eternity. Her grip on his hand loosened up and the heart stopped beating. With tearing eyes he hugged her dead body to his own. All those years lost because of thought he knew better. Her death was caused by his selfishness and not listening to his best advisor. The flame in her was gone. And with that his last piece of love for the surface world.

~*~

He already missed her heartbeat and her smile. Her true happy smile. Everyone he loved was dead. But Talokan still existed. And with it her flame and dream did too. That was the only thing that mattered now.

The funeral ceremony was made with great respect.Talokanil farewelled her like a Queen, whom she was for them. He wanted to bury her underwater, near him and his people. But that was his selfishness speaking.

Long time ago she confessed to him about her wishes of last destination. She mentioned one place. A small city by the sea, near Alicante. Her hometown. That, he remembered. And she deserved this, to be buried in her ancestors’ home. Nevertheless, she deserved to live even more. 

-K’uk’ulkan. - Namora greeted her king. Even she felt grief. Azula gave her heart to this kingdom and its people.

-Yes?

-Queen Shuri is asking you to take Azula’s tomb. What shall I say?

-That I’m going with them to make sure her last wish will be executed properly. - Namor commanded. He took a glimpse at the mosaic of him and Azula. Kids from 2 different worlds marked with violence for the rest of their days. Even after 5 centuries he would do the same thing; he would still ask Azula to be his friend. And he would finally ask her to become his queen.