#my mutual has good taste in how to make designs

[xerocares]

@whoisinmyhousehelp ‘s Mischa design

Fun fact: I finished this while getting to Mischa’s part in a production of RtC

[facefullofsadness]

ever think about car sex with aeri... yeah, I do, a lot

I most certainly do too anon... a lot. ooouuu the au concepts to go alongside car sex with aeri are quite literally countless like I can envision after a dinner party w designer!giselle (she's been occupying my mind for weeks guys idk I wanna make like a miniseries on that aeri-), hooking up with stranger!giselle from the club in the parking lot, stepsis!giselle taking u out for an *innocent* midnight drive but u can't take ur hands off one another, bully!giselle putting u in ur place after u refused to do her hw, ugh I could go on and fucking on.

but for today, let's paint the picture of bestie!aeri. it's summer vacation and you both are bored at 2 am, deciding to go out on a joy ride with your bestfriend who you've been crushing on for fucking ever, and what's a friendship without mutual yearning accompanied by intense flirting and affection to make each other confused right? blasting music with the windows down as u both sing ur heart out to u and aeri's shared playlist (gay), both of your outfits leave little to imagination, sheer and flimsy tops with unbearably short shorts, it's hot as fuck so sweat gleams on ur guys' skin, shining from the street lamps and moonlight.

but the tension? my god it's insane. when the tone of the music shifts as sensual rnb plays rhythmically on the speakers, you look at aeri and holy fuck she looks god-like. the sheen on her milky skin from her perspiration, her messy hair clinging to her body, her arms toned perfectly clutching on the steering wheel, the way her tank top hugged her chest and waist deliciously, her juicy thighs on full display, and her lips plump red after licking them locking eyes with you at the stoplight. you were so dizzy, the ache in your core throbbing from the mixture of adrenaline and js looking at your best friend. u watched as she pushed her hair back with her big veiny hand, threading her fingers through her messy hair, still staring shamelessly as she drove into an empty parking lot.

doesn't take long for her to grab you by the neck (choking you) and pull your head forward towards her, making a choked noise, practically a whimper. her smirk and eyes are filled with lustful intent, your eyes watering with need as you beg her to take you in every way with your dazed expression, and so she does. the sex is messy and oh so desperate. even with the car ac, you both can't help but to feel so hot, even if you're fully naked. her hands are js as greedy as yours, clutching grabbing grasping scratching at skin, pulling each other as close as physically possible.

moans fill the car as you finger each other, your digits drilling in and out of your friend's pussy, her's mimicking your movements, need evident on your faces. forehead to forehead with her as you both release pleasurable noises onto each other's mouths, on her lap as one hand is in her hair, the other thrusting into her, her hand digging into your waist as she fucks you with no remorse. cumming insanely hard on each other, immediately switching to rubbing clits tgt, using each other's slick to slide on the other's pussy. the sensations are so intense and yet neither of you care that it's too soon, that the overstimulation was too much, you both needed each other in an almost primal way, like two animals in heat.

most certainly filled with love bombs, confessing how much she's needed this, how badly she's been waiting for you, how much she has thought about doing this, and you reciprocate the sentiments, rambling against her tongue about dreaming of this day, touching yourself thinking of her, being addicted to everything that has to do with her. every climax you both would slur I love yous repeatedly, screaming each other's names and holding each other close. so much panting, moaning, pathetic begging from both like fuck you feel so good please don't fucking stop or I'm so close I'm so close just a little more please please. her taste is js as sweet as her name on your tongue, and you couldn't wait to get more, never having nearly enough. an exciting summer indeed.

[thatbadadvice]

Dear Advisor,

I tend to be a very reserved and shy person so making friends is super hard. Recently I’ve been wanting to socialize more , but I genuinely don’t know how. Is there any advice that you have that can make me look more approachable and not be scared to talk to people. I’m so stressed about being alone and not having any friends, but I just find it so hard to go up to people and make a conversation. I tried once but it became super awkward. I just really need good advice from someone on how to approach a person and continue a conversation.

Dear Awkward Anonymous,

It would be so easy to get into a whole deep let's-skeetshoot-therapy-on-the-internet session and try to help a total stranger unpack all of the GA-FUCKING-ZILLION ways in which social awkwardness shows up in a person's life. It seems easy, and it even seems meaningful and worthwhile, but to do so I would have to presume a bunch about your life, and make a bunch of assumptions about the ways in which my own experiences maybe/probably track with yours, and it would be a whole big wank-fest, and frankly ... it would be awkward. I'd be like you, standing there at the party, hoping that what I'm saying resonates or lands or even vaguely tracks with anything a stranger has ever known or experienced, presuming (probably rightly!) that it doesn't, and then flailing and blaming myself when I didn't emerge from the interaction with all the world's gold stars.

So here's what: stop talking to other people as a primary social occupation. Going up to people and just talking is fucking terrifying. The Bad Advisor says this as a Certified Extrovert™ who rarely shuts the fuck up.

Instead, find a thing to do with other people that involves some sort of task or goal or activity. Talk about the thing you're doing together, when you're doing it. If it feels okay, maybe introduce one or two of your own relatable-to-the-activity experiences in the process. See who picks up on it. Ask the people who pick up on it genuinely interested questions in response. This is what we awkward people call: engineering a conversation. It is the way, I am told, humans make connections with other humans. I have seen it work in my own life.

Depending on where you live and your ability level and skill set, I bet you have some options! You could seek out an open board game night, pub quiz session, knitting/quilting circle, or mutual aid meetup that's looking for volunteers. Especially look for social activities with strangers that involve a dedicated, pre-prescribed activity (such as a hiking or mall-walking group, stuffing envelopes for a political candidate or cause you care about, planting trees at your local park, or tasting tea/wine/beer/etc.). (Somebody is going to say join a ballroom dancing club or suchlike; I am personally terrified of this, but if you have a higher tolerance for strangers touching you and fewer than two left feet: it's literally an option. Line-dancing, on the other hand ... absofuckinglutely.)

Even if what's available in your area isn't your precise and specific interest, it might be worthwhile to check out something you are decidedly meh about -- you might not be the only meh person there. You can bond over shit that's boring or shitty with other people who find it boring or shitty! Some of my best friends, arguably my very best friends, came out of experiences we mutually loathed or found at least moderately and mutually miserable.

Consider especially finding an activity where you yourself are the manager of operations and/or have a designated task to take care of that is unique to your position! This doesn't have to be complicated or skill-dependent; can you become a voter registrar in your area? Well, bam! You've got paperwork people have to fill out and a good reason to jibber-jabber with folks who have to ask you the questions. Other ideas: join your local neighborhood association board, become a notary public, or see if your local pet rescue is looking for intake line volunteers. Do you have a trustworthy, especially outgoing friend who might agree to play "social glue" for you a couple of times at their activity-centric events? Make it explicit! Ask them if they'll play friendly wing-person for you at their D&D game, fantasy sports league, or some such.

Alternately: Do you have a unique and fun and shareable skillset you can share with others? Are you pretty good at drawing, programming? Simply a font of endless Merlin or NFL or Real Housewives knowledge? You might start a local Discord or other online social group to discuss and share your interests, then move it to the real world in a few weeks once folks get comfortable. You get the idea.

Most of all: Look for stuff that has more-than-just-talking opportunities available outside the designated group jam for you to maintain connections. Perhaps a group chat, a Discord, a Slack, what-have-you, where you can take more time to consider and draft your responses and posts? Connections with humans get made a thousand ways, and talking raw-dog with strangers is but one.

It takes a true social unicorn to be simply good at talking and only talking to other people. There are some of these one-horned wonders out there, to be sure — but let me assure you that the vast majority of folks want to be accepted and seen just as much as you do, and they're staring at the ceiling at night thinking just as much (more, probably) about all the weird, wonky shit they themselves threw at you than they are anything you ever said to them.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

🖤 Yours Alone 🖤

🖤 Pairing: dom!boyfriend!hongjoong x sub!fem!reader

🖤 Genre: smut

🖤 Summary: Things get interesting when you visit your boyfriend while he's on a business trip in Greece.

🖤 Word Count: 1.1k-ish

🖤 Warnings: soft dom hongjoong, praise kink, masturbation (f), fingering, nicknames (daddy, baby, good girl), edging, the filthiest of language, and remind me if I missed anything

🖤 A/N: @sailork-pop I hope this insomnia fueled one shot satisfies your wishes to be a spoiled Joong babe who gets flown out to pretty places

Hongjoong spares no expense when it comes to you. Anything you’ve ever wanted, anything you might even think you want, is yours without question. Some might say he spoils you but why shouldn’t he when you’ve always been such a good girl? You’re his goddess. His muse. His addiction. If you want the moon he’ll pluck it from the night sky and every star with it. This time around you hadn’t quite asked for the moon. Actually, you hadn’t directly asked for anything.

You’d simply called to tell him how much you missed him while he was away on business in Greece, never expecting that he’d have you on a flight to the breathtaking island of Santorini mere hours later. With gorgeous homes carved into the towering cliffs of the island surrounded by a sea that reflects a vivid blue unlike any you’ve ever witnessed, it’s been the epitome of romance since you stepped off the plane. 

But none of that is why you’re here. You didn’t drop everything to come dine at expensive restaurants or brush elbows with his friends in the fashion industry. You came to be with him. To be seen by him. To be loved by him. To be draped across the bed in his luxury suite like the beautiful creature that you are, stroking your clit through the designer lingerie he had custom-made just for you.

Hongjoong stands at the end of the bed, still dressed in the suit he wore to dinner. The one that drove you mad all night, making it impossible to focus on much else but him. He looks so good that you can’t take your eyes off of him. A feeling that’s intensely mutual. Hongjoong’s eyes are glued to you, captivated by the sight of you playing with yourself precisely as he instructed.

You make the cutest pouty face, whimpering at how heavenly the expensive silk of your panties feels brushing against your stiff clit. Hongjoong takes a deep breath, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, “Aww, my girl has the prettiest little moans. Come here and let daddy see how wet you are.” “Yes, daddy” you mewl, inching closer to the foot of the bed and spreading your legs. Using two fingers he pulls your panties to the side, grinning at how drenched they are before he even gets a look at the arousal dripping from your warmth.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?” he teases, his free hand reaching up to lovingly cup your cheek. Gripping your panties, he tucks them to the side, exposing every bit of your deliciously needy pussy to him. Your fingers are back at your clit, your head falling back at the jolt of pleasure you get from finally touching your bare clit. He groans, chewing at his bottom lip, his cock growing hard enough to make him regret these fitted pants.

Fuck, he wants you on his tongue so badly but that’s not a part of the plan. At least not for this round. For now, he needs you just like this, making delicate figure eights on your clit, your pussy so wet that your fingers keep slipping through your folds whenever your clit twitches from you hitting a particularly sensitive spot. “Daddy, am I doing okay?” you whine, a wave of heat washing over you. “Oh, baby,” he coos, dipping two fingers into the juices trickling from your slit, “You’re doing so well. Look at this.”

Hongjoong raises his fingers up to show how perfectly you glisten in the light. He pops them into his mouth, those few drops of you coating his tongue enough to chase off his craving. He doesn’t even try to hide how much he loves the taste of you, humming as he takes one last lick. Just knowing how hooked on your pussy he is has you teetering on the edge of your high. Your movements begin to get sloppy as your muscles weaken, your body tingling from head to toe.

Your breath hitches as your stomach winds itself into endless knots that threaten to snap without warning. “Stop” Hongjoong demands, grabbing you by the wrists and pinning your arms to your sides. You writhe beneath the pressure, slowly losing your grasp on an orgasm so close you could almost taste it. But you don’t want it, not really, unless Hongjoong says you’re allowed. 

“Are we forgetting to ask permission? We can’t have that can we?” he scolds, leaning forward to kiss your inner thighs, his lips barely skimming your clit as he moves from one thigh to the other. “I’m sorry, daddy. Can I cum? Pretty please? Can you…can you make me cum?” Hongjoong releases you, kissing his way down your leg as he rises back to his feet. “I don’t know. You were doing such a good job on your own. I don’t think you need me.”

Crawling onto your knees, you poke your bottom lip out, “But I do need you. I always need you.” Hongjoong pets your hair, contemplating his answer for what feels like a painfully long time. Without a word, he kisses you on the forehead and makes his way to the other end of the bed. When he shifts to the middle of the bed, his back to the headboard, you don’t even question that the answer’s yes.

You position yourself between his legs, leaning back so that your head rests on his chest, the scent of his cologne filling your lungs. Hongjoong wraps his arms around your waist, his embrace safe and comforting. You spread your legs, knees pressing into his, back arching as his fingers sink into your core. “Joongie, mmph” you squeak at the feeling of his other hand laying flat on your clit, rubbing back and forth at the same rapid pace of those fingers rhythmically thrusting into your pussy.

“You hear that baby?” he whispers into your ear, “Still so wet. You must really wanna make daddy happy.” “I do. Want you to be proud of me.” Hongjoong picks up his pace, moving faster and faster the tighter your walls clench around him. “What? Look at how well you take my fingers, swallowing them so fucking deep inside you. I’m always so, so proud of you, baby.”

And just like that you’re seeing stars, trembling in his arms as you gush all over the bed, his fingers tapping at your sweet spot until you can’t take it anymore. You collapse into him, whimpering even after his fingers have eased out of you. Lifting you up a bit, he grabs the blanket tousled about beneath you, bringing it up to cover you as you cuddle up together.

“Hey,” he says softly, kissing you on the cheek. You smile up at him, your eyes bright and loving, “Yeah?” “I really missed you too.”

[vanyafresita]

my si-5 designs ! maybe i draw later the hephaestus crew too...

anyways after making this to have as a reference for whenever i want to draw them, imma yap here under the read more all i want about my headcanons for them (cracks fingers)

alana maxwell is very saeyoung from mystic messenger coded, thats why i gave her the dr pepper can lmfao

also she is literally aroace i wont take criticism for this one

to me she's transfem too, but i only like to think about that if jacobi is ALSO trans bcs i love me a t4t queerplatonic relationship

she forgets to eat often so shes a lil underweight- but its okay kepler and jacobi will make sure she doesnt actually faint from hunger

she is also taller than jacobi i tihnk she would b like... 176cm or so... jacobi is like 170cm and kepler is around 185cm

she also doesnt have a lot of scars on her body since she gets protected when working on a laptop by the other two during ops (or she is working as a sniper, and thus she isnt a direct target most of the time)

unlike kepler who prefers hand to hand combat, or jacobi who joins him and also messes around with chemicals and explosives often

absolutely random thought, but alana is canadian to me ! warren is american and jacobi is chilean (i am latino, me reservo el derecho de latinificar a un personaje por cada obsesión que tenga xoxoxo)

jacobi wears a hearing aid on his right ear too btw !! an accident with a small explosive left the right side of his face and his ear damaged !

jacobi paints his nails too (he actually doesnt, its alana the one who does, jacobi has a terrible case of shaky hands)

both maxwell and jacobi wear glasses, but while maxwell uses them 24/7, jacobi just.... does not care. they keep getting broken one way or another so he doesnt bother... he can see from up close, so who cares ! (at some point tho, he get convinced to get eye surgery, so he obliges)

okay switching to kepler's sexuality... he is aro and very horny for jacobi we all know this like. its very obvious i fear.... like... yeah

jacobi is bi... i feel like he had a crush on alana at first, but the closer he got to her something changed and, believe me, he does love her A LOT (probably more than kepler) just not in a romantic way !! ergo: qpps

and because jacobi is a masochistic idiot of course he fell in love with his evil boss CMON MAN GET BETTER TASTE <- alana to daniel

kepler probably doesnt date tho, most likely he doesnt feel like it would mean much making official any type of relationship they have (aka 'we fuck sometimes, i try my best to be considerate of ur feelings, i dont feel jealousy seeing you being close with maxwell, and i wanna keep her close too'), while jacobi is like. biting his nails trying not to die from love but he knows dating ur boss is not a good path to go down (its already bad they are fucking behind everybody's back- except alana, he cannot keep secrets from alana)

i think the relationship these three have (at least in my head idc about yall's opinions LMAO) is absolutely insane and it makes me act like a rabid dog, i lose all coherence trying to explain how they make me feel

they are all in love with each other, just in very wildly different ways

i love thinking about jacobi and maxwell's closeness, how they care for each other, the vulnerability, the love, the devotion, how open they are and how little they care about how others perceive them

i love thinking about kepler actually trying to make an effort to be romantic, getting it wrong often, and then having to deal with jacobi being passive aggressive; WARREN JUST TELL HIM U DONT GET ROMANTIC LOVE, YOU JUST LIKE HIM AND WANNA MAYBE DATE AND DEFINITELY BANG, DONT BE STUPID

i love...... whatever the fuck kepler and maxwell have going on... not romantic or platonic, but a secret third thing.... the mutual respect and admiration, the overprotection feeling.....

jacobi is sooooo glad his two most favourite people in the world get on well, he'd die if kepler and maxwell weren't on good terms... but thank god all three of them are fucked up and obsessed, and insane and love each other

they all love to banter, they would kill each other, they would kill for the others, they cant stand to be near, they would die if they are apart, they need to be so close together you cant tell apart where one ends and the other stars

as a side note of my designs, i wanna comment how confused i was when i finished the podcast, checked the art tag, and saw most people draw warren kepler as a white man, like i got jumpscared ngl IM SORRYYYY

listen when i heard his honey voice... that cadence... he gave me this very clear image of distinguished bald tall black man, the image went straight to my brain and i have not been able to imagine him otherwise

and i keep seeing him drawn white and blond and with blue eyes and i feel SO SCARED like i have nothing against those designs but its so confusing because to me he is that type of attractive motherfucker that charms everybody around with a smile, that make people trust him blindly from how confident his posture and personality is... and to me (poc person) a white blond blue-eyed man does NOT inspire me trust lmfaoooo so i guess i may be biased ?

anyways i know warren kepler is a divisive character !!! he is so fucked up and complex and hot HE IS MY EVERYTHING im gonna throw up /pos im so obsessed with him... you evil bastard... youre my babygirl, ure so important to me, your war crimes and horrible morality is charming to me <3 i dont wanna fix him i wanna observe how he makes other people WORST (thinks 24/7 about the implication that he disciplines jacobi and maxwell in very creative ways)

okay anyways IM DONEEEE SORRY THIS GOT SO LONG BUT I DONT CARE ITS MY BLOG AND MY HEADCANONS AND ITS ALL UNDER A READ MORE SO I CAN YAP TO THE NOTHINGNESS AS MUCH AS I WANT OK BYEEE

[yunyun160]

Get to know your mutuals!

Thank you, @lepplum, for giving me an English test. 🤣

What's the origin of your blog title?  Mm, it’s simple—this is my nickname + height lollll

OTP(s) + Shipname: My favorite is Crosstech, but recently Jessix suddenly crashed into my life, and I have no idea what happened.

Favorite color: Orange-yellow

Favorite game: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild I like it so much that I don't even want to finish the game because I don't want it to end.

Song stuck in your head: I keep thinking about Mayday... it's really sad.

Weirdest habit/trait? I'm not sure if this counts, but I have a habit of folding tissues or receipts into squares.

Hobbies: I try to develop different interests at different stages, but drawing has always been my favorite.

If you work, what's your profession? I work in marketing planning. I originally wanted to pursue a career related to design, but sadly, the salary in this field is not high in our country.

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?  I want to become a botanist or an animal photographer, observing nature and discovering the wonders of this world.

Something you're good at: Drawing

Something you're bad at: I will go crazy when I see any long and complicated rules.

Something you love:  Close my eyes and listen to the sound of the wind rustling through the falling leaves.

Something you hate： I hate arguments and the complicated calculations of interpersonal relationships.

Something you collect： I collect tickets, such as movie tickets and train tickets from the trips I've taken.

Something you forget:  I’m the worst at remembering character names lolllll. Sometimes, I finish an entire show and still can’t remember what their names are.

What's your love language? ...What's love language?

Favorite movie/show: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse

Favorite food: Egg tart

Favorite animal: Wolf

What were you like as a child? I was more introverted, but I would actively seek out quieter children to play with. I liked playing video games and reading comics, and I was more androgynous.

Favorite subject at school? Subjects without exams.

Least favorite subject: Chemistry, too many technical terms and rules to memorize.

What's your best character trait? It should be respect and tolerance. Everyone has different likes and ways of doing things, and there's no need to force everyone to be the same.

What's your worst character trait?  I have overly rich emotions, and most of the time, I suppress them and let them build up, eventually hurting the people closest to me.

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be?  Slow down. I know you're passionate about practicing and improving, but life still goes on. Your lack of sleep is already affecting your daily life.

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?  I wish I could see my grandmother one last time and tell her how much I love her. If possible, I would love to taste her cooking again, because no one else can make it the way she did. Occasionally, I can still smell the fragrance on her clothes, and I'll never know what brand it was.

Tag as many mutuals as you want!! @letshareapapou

[starflungwaddledee]

do you have any tips for leaving compliments on other people's art ?? your tags are always so well phrased !

oooo oooooooooooooo uuhhhhhhhh hmmm!

firstly, thank you!! i'm rather glad to hear that! i try quite hard to leave meaningful comments so it's nice when folks notice or appreciate it!

outside of commenting on the work, i first consider the tone of what i'm saying and who i'm saying it to.

i always try to make sure that what i'm saying will be appreciated by the person! that's the point. for the most part i leave comments to bring joy to the op, and thank them for their hard work, for being here and sharing art that made me happy! if i'm speaking to a mutual or friend, there's gonna be inside jokes and probably an amount of casual yelling. possibly even a little friendly roast, if i know them well enough. if i'm speaking with someone i don't know as well i try to keep it a little more professional, but i keep in mind that this is a fandom so an amount of yelling and screaming is expected. i tend to think about what i would like from someone else.

also if i notice that a caption or a blogs about is not in english i double check. if english is not the first language of the artist i make sure to construct tags that are easily translated and i use only and exclusively positive phrases. saying things like "delete this!!!! /pos" or "eating my own hands" can be totally lost in translation. i also keep in mind the age of the OP. don't tag as though you're Looking Disrespectfully at the art of a minor, even if that's your favourite blorbo.

as for how to comment on art or storytelling itself, this is indeed a learned skill, and it can be helped by training your eye to understand different things in artwork. but it's easy to start practicing! this is intuitive to me now, but an easy way to begin is to pick out one or two things that really stand out to you on a piece. (examples could be line quality; is it smooth? neat? textured? full of emotion?, shading: is it crisp? atmospheric? realistically rendered?, or colour choice: is it vibrant? is it moody? is it perfectly on model?) and draw attention to them and how the artist successfully used them to make the piece work.

if the piece includes design-work, pick something of that which you like as well. (clothes, colour choices, abilities, parallels to other characters, totally new or unique concepts that you haven't seen before. if you see your favourite colour combos or notions, let them know, but if it's a stranger remember they made the design for themselves, and you just share (good) tastes!) if you really want to make an artist/designer/storyteller's day, try to find the Little Thing that they've snuck into their art or design that ties into the story or lore that they are telling. even guesses to this end tend to be appreciated!

generally useful things you can also comment on are how well an artist has utilised a medium for its strengths, especially if the medium is a little unusual. if someone @'d me in particular i make sure to acknowledge that too because they probably read me for something and i should acknowledge the effort!

another thing i also always, always encourage, is to try to periodically share and comment on the work of people who are either less experienced or who have less visibility than you. especially if you have more of a platform! if you want to keep your blog clean of too many reblogs for aesthetic or professional reasons you can even go through and remove them later, but sharing the work of smaller accounts- even temporarily- makes such a huge difference! and encouraging + supporting younger or beginner artists is something we should be endeavouring to do as much as possible!

at the end of the day, i always just try to be very earnest in my tags.

there is generally no reason to withhold any praises i can think of, because it's usually nice to have your work perceived and appreciated! i personally loooovvve long rambling tags, screaming tags, stuff like "AAHH NOOOOOOO (THE BLORBO)" and so on. i try to leave the kind of thoughtful comments that i like (and am lucky enough) to receive, and i try to share artwork from a wide variety of people!

[andydrysdalerogers]

Cross-Checked ~ Chapter Eight

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!. 

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world., 

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again? 

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

A/N: The tag list is open!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Banners by me!

Previous: Chapter Seven ~ A Little Boston Magic ~ Andy/Leia

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter Eight ~ Nothing But Lies ~ Andy/Leia

Andy 

I feel like I have been here before.  

I’m pretty sure I’ve been here before.  

The pain in my back is getting worse the longer I stay in this position. I finally pry my eyes open and am blinded with pain. Why is my room so bright? And why am I so uncomfortable? I blinked a couple of times and realized, I’m on my couch.  I slowly sat up. What the fuck happened?  My mind runs throught the previous night. I remembered watching Leia and Jeremy and then heading to the Red Line. I frowned as I remember Stella being there but then, nothing really.  

“Oh, you’re wake.”  

I snapped my head up (which was a terrible mistake) and saw Leia coming down the stairs, fully dressed. Oh shit, there was a game today.  I scrambled for my phone before Leia stopped me.  

“Its ok Andy, its only eight. Practice is at ten. I’m going to make some coffee.”  

I sat back with my head on the cushions. Fuck, being hung over for the second time in three months is not a good look for a captain of an NHL team. I took a moment to breathe before Leia came back in with two mugs. “Thanks,” I muttered.  

“Wanna talk about it?” She took a sip, looking at me.  

“I’m fine.” I took a sip and avoided her gaze.  

“Ok, why are you getting drunk the night before a game? That isn’t like you, Andy.” The look on her face was breaking me. But how can I tell her?  How can I tell her that her new boyfriend is a tool bag and I’m so in love with her, it kills me to see her with her.  What do I say? How do I tell her about what I overheard in the locker room a couple of weeks ago.  

Two weeks ago... 

“That is such a sweet shot you took on Ullmark,” Luke said, laughing as he and Andy walked down to the locker room.  

“It’s all in the wrist,” I replied with the pretend flick of the wrist.  “Are we heading to the bar after?” 

“Yeah, Cubby said she’s be our designated tonight after the game.” Luke high-fived me when they heard laughing coming from the locker room. They were about to burst in when they heard Swayman’s voice.  

“Dude, she had a thing for me.  When I was talking with her on the plane, she was playing hard to get. But I know, she’s into me. I’m gonna ask her out.”  

“You really want to ask out the assistant captain’s sister?” Andy could hear it was Ullmark. “Is that wise?” 

“Why not? You heard Andrews.  He gave his blessing.”  

“That’s because he doesn’t know your reputation.”  

“He knows.  I’ve been with him at the bars and stuff. He was just as bad before he met Miranda.” He heard him chuckle. “I just want a taste. She is sexy as hell and I can feel like she is a devil in the sheets.”  

“You better make sure that Barber and Andrews don’t hear you talk like that about her.”  

“What is Barber going to do? He’ll ruin his friendship with her which is ok by me. I just want a piece of her. Fuck her and leave her. Make it look a mutual thing so there’s no bad blood. Trust me, I’ve done this before and I’ll do it again.” 

It took everything in Andy to restrain Luke.  

It took everything inside of Andy not to tell Leia. 

Present 

I lied.  

“Fiona called and she was trying to convince me we should make another go at it. I told her to fuck off but it messed with my head. Got to drinking to numb the feeling.”  

I lied big time.  

“Oh Andy,” Leia came to sit next to me and held my hand.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.” She leaned over my shoulder. “She is the worst.”  

I never wanted the feeling of her body pressed against mine to ever stop. “Yeah, I know. I’m not even sure why I answered the call.” I am a complete asshole for lying to her but the truth would hurt her more and I can’t do it. 

“Well, I’ll be home tonight after the game. You don’t fly out until tomorrow so we can relax tonight, ok?” She gave me her smile, the one I go weak over.  

“It sounds like a plan, Princess.”  

I have to remind myself that he is my teammate and I can’t fuck with that. It would screw everyone else and I can’t do that.  

But boy, do I want to.  

Practice went as practice goes but my head was not in it. Warm ups for the game are the same and I know everyone can see it.  Its obvious, especially when Swayman looks at me with concern. “You ok, Cap?” 

“I’m fine,” I mumble, lacing up my skates. “Leia told me what happened.  Thanks for helping her.”  

“It’s no problem.” He frowns. “But everything’s ok?” 

“Fiona called.” Yep, maintaining that lie. “It just got to me. I just want to skate.” I pushed past him and start taking laps on the ice. I know Luke knows the lie because Leia told him. But I can’t face him. I can’t face anyone. My heart is broken right now and I just can’t do it.  

The game is a tire fire right from the start.  

I can’t focus. I just see Leia and Jeremy and the happiness on her face and it makes me sloppy. So sloppy that coach has to bench me in the third period, probably for safety reasons. I sat there, watching the game, knowing that if we lost this, it would be my fault. Luckily, Luke was able to take control of the team and pull out the win.  

I was sitting in my stall, trying hard not to show emotion. I just wanted to go home and cuddle with Leia. I just wanted to be with my girl.  

Fuck.  

She's not mine.  

I’m still totally fucked.  

Leia 

15 Weeks 

The last few weeks with Jeremy had been amazing. He is such a gentleman. We had the road trip right after for ten days and Jeremy made it a point to sit across the aisle from me so we could talk. He would carry my bag when we got off and made sure that Stella and I are safely in our rooms. In the mornings, he would bring me a tea, make sure my gloves were on and then hang out if he was done for the day.  

We would go out every couple of days, some days I just can’t from how tired I was. I still hadn’t told him about the baby.  I spoke with management and they agreed to modify my duties but it was up to me on who I told.  I love the Bruins.  

The only thorn in my side is Andy.  He’s been distance since my first date with Jeremy. Not just distant but angry even a little hostile.  I’ve noticed that sometimes he is sharp at practice with his teammates, especially Jeremy. Its so unlike him.  I decided to text Luke to see if he knew anything.  

Leia: Do you know what’s wrong with Andy  Luke: No  Leia: You are so helpful  Luke: Seriously, I’ve asked and he says nothing  Luke: You know Fiona called  Leia: its still from that?  Luke: I guess so  Leia: I guess I’ll talk to him to see what’s up 

I frown at my phone. Its near 8 pm and Andy still isn’t home. Its weird for him not to come home after all of his meetings and stuff but lately he’s been coming home later and later. Sometimes, especially on days when I got out with Jeremy, I won’t see him until the next day.  I decided to cancel plans with Jeremy and head home.  I sit in the living room, reading when I hear his car pull up. He walks in. “Oh, hey.” 

“Hey Andy. How was your day?” My voice is super sugary sweet and Andy narrowed his eyes at me.  

“What’s going on? Why are you talking to me in your ‘I’m pregnant and don’t feel good so can you help me’ voice?” Andy crossed his arms over his chest. Normally I would find this very attractive, because he’s still in a dress shirt and slacks, and fuck, focus Leia! 

“Just realizing that I haven’t seen you around much.” I smiled softer at him. “I missed hanging out with you.” Andy snorted and went to grab a beer. He had been drinking a little more than usual. “What? Don’t you miss hanging out with me?” 

“Of course, I miss hanging out with you.  I didn’t realize that you and Swayman were not serious and that you would be home more often.” He took a long pull.  

“Jeremy and I are fine. What is the matter with you?” My tone was sharp.  

“Me? I’m not the problem. I’m giving you space to grow in your relationship.” He raised his hands and move towards the stairs. “I’m going to bed.”  

“You can’t do this Andy.  We live together, we’re roommates...” 

“Yes, Leighton, we’re roommates. Doesn’t mean I have to share everything with you or acknowledge your relationship.” I could feel the tears forming in my eyes.  “Oh, here we go, the crying.”  

“You’re being such an asshole right now Andrew.  You are not like my best friend right now.” I wiped at my eyes furiously.  

His face turned angry. “A best friend? You want me to be a best friend to you. Fine! Jeremy is not this great guy you think he is. He’s a douchebag and a womanizer. He’s going to hurt you and you’re just planning your entire future with him and your kid.”  

“You’re just jealous because I’m finding happiness with him. I’m moving on unlike you!” 

“That’s rich, moving on. You’re not going to move on with Swayman.”  

“That’s not your decision!” 

“I’m not deciding anything. Its facts; you’re not going to find what you are looking for with him.”  

“Stay out of my life Andrew. I’m happy and that’s all that should matter.”  

“He’s going to hurt you and I’ll be left to pick up the pieces again. Just like your high school boyfriend and just like Bret.  You can’t even see what’s right in front of you. You keep choosing fuckboys when you could have something better.  I don’t know why I would think you would look at the bigger picture with Swayman. He’s a fuckboy hockey player just trying to sleep with you so he can say I fucked my teammates sister. You are just a warm body to him and you’re too stupid to see it.” His words vibrate against the walls and his face falls with realization. “Leia...” 

My heart cracks at his words, his mean and awful words.  “Fuck you! I fucking hate you!” 

I ran past him up the stairs and slammed the door, locking it behind me. I slide down to the floor and sobbed. I’ve never had a real fight with Andy but he’s so wrong. Jeremy and I are just starting. Things are different this time and I know it.   

I woke up the next morning, my eyes sore and raw from crying. Its still early but I can’t face Andy again. I got up to shower, using the hot water to loosen my muscles. As I’m drying my hair, I stand in front of the mirror and gasp.  

Between my hips is now a distinct bump. I grab my phone and check my pregnancy tracker. 15 weeks, one day. My bump popped and now there is no way to hide this. I can get away with it while I’m out because of jackets and scarfs but at work I tend to wear leggings and sweaters. I run my hand over my belly as I stare in the mirror.  Hi baby, I croon softly.  I move to open the door to tell Andy but I stop.  

He lost the right. 

I sneak out the house and head to the coffee shop for my morning tea and muffin. I work on my notes for work when my phone chimes.  

Jeremy: Morning beautiful  Leia: morning handsome  Jeremy: so since we bailed on dinner last night, can we try again tonight  Leia: I would love to 

I smile as I think about the date with Jeremy. And then my smile falls. I don’t know how I can hide my condition.  I have to tell him about the pregnancy. But maybe I should wait.  

Perfect. 

Andy isn’t home when I get there so I take advantage of it and start getting ready. I put on a fit and flare type dress with stockings and booties. My nice coat and scarf will hide my secret until I’m ready to talk to Jeremy.  He’s prompt like always and we head out.  

I’m nervous because this is like date four and every romance book has told me that by now, the man is hoping to get lucky.  And I would, I totally would follow this except I feel so uncomfortable in my body.  Having Andy and Stella tell me all the time that I look gorgeous is just getting to my head. What if he is grossed out about my body? What if he finds me repulsive? My mind is spiraling.  

“Everything ok Leia?” Jeremy smiled at me as he placed his big hand on my thigh. His finger are long and I can feel the warmth, strength and roughness in them.  A hard working man.  

“Yeah, just upset about Andy is all. He’s still being closed off and that’s unusual for him.” There was no way I would tell him what Andy said.  That would be just asking for an argument.  “He’s never been so distant before,” I say before smiling.  “But, I’m going to let it go because I’m excited for our date.”  

“Good.  I was thinking of just going to Lou’s for pizza and North Park has those Christmas lights up. Could be really pretty. “His fingers are dancing over my skin and it feels so good and distracting.  

“Sounds like the perfect night.” God, I am falling hard for this man.  

After pizza, he drove us to the park for the festival of lights. As we are climbing out, Jeremy hands me a soft ball.  I look at him curiously. “Because I know you forgot them.” I open the bundle and its a pair of mittens. I blush because I did forget and I look down.  Jeremy touches my chin to lift my head. I look into his eyes and all I see is kindness.  “Its ok, beautiful. Its our thing.”  

Our thing.  

Swoon.  

As we walk around, all the twinkling lights are setting a mood of romance. An aphrodisiac of scents fills the air from the food stalls. Jeremy gets some hot ciders to keep our hands warm as walk trough. “Ok, Halloween or Christmas?” he asks. 

“Christmas. I don’t like to be scared.” I shudder at the thought. “Plus why does it involve so many spiders and clowns. Spiders are poisonous and they are creepy.  Clowns... well, clowns eat people and just no.” I take a breath and look at Jeremy’s face. His face is surprised and unmoving.  “What?” 

“That is the most passionate speech I have ever heard about Halloween.” He burst out laughing. I huff with mock indignation and cross my arms, hip jutted while he is bent, hands on knees trying to calm himself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says wiping his eyes. “Sweetheart, are you afraid of spiders and clowns?” 

“It’s not funny.” I pouted at him and begin to walk away.  

“Sweetheart!” Jeremy chases after me and pulls me to him. “I’m sorry,” he says with puppy eyes.  

I can’t be mad at this man. “It’s ok,” I say softly.  

“Let me make it up to you.” He smiles. “Let’s go back to my place, I’ll start a fire, some hot cocoa, we can cuddle on the couch.” He kisses me softly. “What do you say beautiful?” 

Shit. He’ll try to touch me and he’ll know. He’ll know and I’m not ready.  I’m not ready for this bubble to burst. “I would love to but I have a six am call with a club in England. I need to be up early and presentable, at least, from the waist up.” I smile.  “But that sounds amazing. Maybe another night?” 

“Of course, sweetheart. I like that you are working to conquer the world.” He kisses my cheek and whispers, “maybe one night I can dominate you and take you to places you never knew existed.”  

I blush as he gives me a sexy smirk. Refusing this man is hard.  

And I don’t know how much longer i will be able to delay it.  

Its been a week since Jeremy has asked me to go home with him and I know now my time is up.  My baby belly is growing and I don’t want to lie to him.  I ask him to lunch and he said he would meet me at a cafe near the house. I bundle up as the falls weather has now turned to the colder side.  It also helps with the bump hiding mission.  I’m putting on my coat when Andy walks by.  “Going out?” 

“Yep.”  

“Princess...” he face falls at the lack of energy in my voice but I don’t want to hear it.  

“Nope.” I walked out the door and drove to the cafe.  Jeremy is sitting there in a hoodie and jeans, his black peacoat over the chair.  He looks like a goddamm snack.  “Hey!” 

“Hey sweetheart!” He gets up to kiss me on the cheek. “Its cold today.”  

“Yeah, winter is coming,” I say with a giggle.  

“Nice,” he smiles.  We order and chat but the more I chat the more i start to get nervous. I mean, how do you tell the man you are seeing that you are pregnant with another man’s baby? Now he can tell something is wrong because he asked me something and I completely spaced. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Leia, you are a thousand miles away. What’s going on?” 

I take a breath and hope for the best. “I need to tell you something.”  

“Okay,” he says slowly.  “You can tell me anything.”  

“So, I’ve been dealing with some life altering news for a few weeks now and I didn’t know if I should tell you earlier because I hadn’t finished making some decisions.”  

He frowns. “Is everything ok? Are you sick?”  

“No, not sick. Just... pregnant.”  

Swear I feel like a pin could drop and I could hear it. Jeremy’s face froze and I know, this is the end. Finally, he says, “you’re pregnant?” 

I nod slowly. “Yeah, I didn’t know if I was keeping it or what I was going to do but I decided that I wanted the baby.  I’m sixteen weeks pregnant. I told management last week but I needed to wrap my head around it and I needed to tell you because I know you want more with me and I just couldn’t while lying.”  He still sitting there, not moving a muscle. “Say something, please.” 

“Wow.” I blink, not sure what he is going to say.  “I mean, wow, that’s big news.” He takes a long sip of his drink as I try to blink back tears.  

“I understand if you don’t want to keep seeing me...” 

“No, that’s not it, sweetheart.” He takes my hand.  “I just need a moment to process this.” He smiles. “You’re gonna be a mom.”  

“Yeah. Its big but I’m determined to give my baby the best life.”  

He smiles. “Anything I can do to help, ok? Just let me know.”  He cups my cheek. “I believe in you, sweetheart.”  

Its exactly what I needed.  

NEXT

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@sunnyhummingbee

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@peaceinourtime82

@saucy-sassy-sparkly

@kmc1989

@kandis-mom

@lokislady82

[eldritch-spouse]

Really???? I'm pretty sure I wasn't writing here before lol, mostly because I wasn't writing or creating anything for a long time haha 😭 Sorry again for smashing it in your face really-

And your words are making me blush shit 🥹 Thanks, it helps shy creators like me to think about starting blog hahaha

ACTUALLY, I just realized that I forgot to send any questions I wanted to ask jeez.

Is here any parasitic/symbiotic monsters in your lore? If yes, is it a common thing? How are they approached by other monsters? (I like to think that they're rare cuz nobody actually likes these fuckers, they are stupid™ and bigger ones tend to grab other monsters as their hosts too lmao-) In case host is a human, will they face same discrimination from the other monsters cuz they pass as human?

I have my own thoughts on mind while I was writing since I didn't find any info on you blog about this- maybe it slipped, haha. Sorry in this case!

Who from your OCs will be the most interested to have a buddy like DT? My best bet is on Gallon, since they have two mouths he can get so many rumors and nasty details while practically remaining silent and pouring more and more alcohol lmao AND Chef would hate them cuz Grghaath keeps eating people without waiting for them to be cooked (and Eve has no right to pass so good lol)

Can you give any advice about monster design? I have some thoughts in mind, but I'm not sure how to make monster recognisable lmao :") Do you have any tricks while creating? Steps you're going through?

•••

SORRY FOR BUMPING ANOTHER WALL OF TEXT and thanks for your attention dearly 🫠🫠🫠🫠🌹

I know it's not exactly easy, I'm pretty timid myself and it took several years of me longingly considering starting a Tumblr account before I actually dug my heels in and did it. I really do think posting stuff in your own account would be better, since you get direct attention and can gather an audience that better understands your tastes, right?

1) Parasitic monster species likely exist, I just haven't thought about some very seriously. I definitely will one day, because I'm extremely attracted to monsters like "Carrion" (from a game with the same name). They're probably rarer than most other monsters because their survival relies on finding the correct, compatible host and the switching process is probably extremely perilous to these beings. The closest thing to this we have going on currently is Krulu and Admin's relationship (wherein Admin is a vessel to Krulu) and the ability most demons can hone of possessing another's body (which definitely has its consequences at a long-term level). I think most monsters would have a negative reaction to parasitic entities, mostly due to their own fear of becoming helpless hosts- Which means they'll do anything they can to really blend in, realistically.

A parasitic entity possessing a human host that walks into The Clergy's Eye will immediately have to reveal that they are not, in fact, human- Or else they'll be targeted like one.

2) I think Sybastian is a good bet. Parasites are related to mimics, in the sense that they have a common goal of wanting to pass as something, to go unnoticed by those around them. They're bound to have a little mutuality.

Patches may approach out of curiosity and wanting to study the bond between those two. Nebul is likely under the initial impression that what those two have going on is similar to what he and Purpur are (pet and owner).

I don't think there's any more that might act very differently around them, at least not off the top of my head. 🤔

3) N-Not really?

Here's the thing. When I create characters, I'm not thinking "What would my followers like?"/"Will others enjoy them?". I'm creating characters that I like, that I think would fit in my narrative and my tastes.

My biggest piece of advice is literally just create something you know you'll love. Because then drawing and talking/writing about that character will be like second nature to you, probably.

Visually, I'm not sure what to tell you. Everyone has a style, and yours is very different from mine. Lean into your talents, adopt colors you like, I'm not too sure what to tell you other than just fuck around and see what comes out, you know?

Sometimes I create a character out of necessity, to fill a hole in the narrative. Other times they come spontaneously to me. Sometimes I already know exactly what they'll look like but figuring their mannerisms out takes me weeks. Other times I know what they'll do and how they speak, but visually they could be anything for a while.

Instead of giving up on a character when you're having trouble creating them, I recommend letting a wip sit for a while and coming back to it the next couple of days.

I guess... Find your theme, the stuff you like.

Don't create anything just so it's "recognizable", or at least I wouldn't.

[yurigalactica]

hi hello!! whats your favorite los camp! album?? all of my mutuals have had different answers haha

AAAAHHHH HIIIIIII NEW MUTUAL :D

truthfully, i don’t think it’s been just one—it rotates between them a lot. when i first got into them it was no blues, then it was romance is boring, then we are beautiful we are doomed, then sick scenes—you get the picture. i find it hard to compare them when they’re all so distinct from one another. i love hold on now youngster for its immaculate scream-in-the-car-after-a-shitty-shift ability, i love we are beautiful we are doomed for its metaphors about love and death (“i cannot emphasize enough that my body is a badly designed poorly put together vessel” and “i don’t want to sound trite but you were perfect, the way you could seriously make nature look dysmorphic” are two of the most notable ones to me), i love romance is boring’s unique sound but absolutely undeniable BANGERS (genuinely i think that album has so many bangers oh my god, it was a bit of an acquired taste for me at first but DAMN if in media res doesn’t change my brain chemistry every time i hear it then i don’t know what does). hello sadness took a while for me to get into, but i love how flowing it is, and while i’m more picky about the songs on it, this album is home to my favorite song on their entire discography—to tundra. my GOD i am so fucking obsessed with that song. literally cried the first time i heard it. no blues was the first album of theirs i listened to all the way through, so it holds a very special place in my heart—and i feel like i can relate to it because of how intricate and bursting with vocabulary it is. i gotta admit, i write fanfic and tend to get carried away with my prose a lot, so i feel very connected to that album because of it. and last but certainly not least, SICK SCENES!! i moved out to go to uni not too long ago and this album held my hand when i did it. hung empty CARRIED me through my first semester when i still had no fucking clue what i was doing. the entire album genuinely is so good, every single song on it is irreplaceable, and as of late, it’s my favorite vinyl to listen to.

if we’re talking my current favorite, however, i’ve gotta say that i’ve been rocking with no blues lately. give me long-winded metaphors about death and pretentious vocabulary!! WOOOOO!!

but yep, that’s my thoughts—i’m far too indecisive to pick just one album. i can’t wait for all hell to come out :D

[crusherthedoctor]

Character bingo Sonic

A beast unleashed: Which is not appreciated, because I was trying to listen to Cool Edge Night.

My friend's favourite, the blorbo by proxy: It's through my mutuals that I began to appreciate him more. It helps that one of them is the (true) Sonic Encyclopedia. :P

Everyone else is wrong about them: Except for my friends, because I am not biased at all.

The fandom is so mean smh: Either he's Mr. Principles with a literal superhero mentality, a penis man who has to be dragged around by someone else in order to function, or they exaggerate his rough edges to make him a complete anti-hero.

That last one is noteworthy because people frequently like to point to the "I don't mind being the bad guy sometimes" moment from Black Knight as evidence of this... except he was only potentially seen as a bad guy in-universe, not to us, the players, and what he did was still unambiguously the right thing to do according to the way the plot unfolded.

What I'm saying is, you jokers can never get it right no matter what. >:[

That's a solid design right there: It's iconic for a reason. It doesn't need to be changed for the sake of being changed.

They sure do exist: He's never been my favourite. Some of his traits have always bothered me, like how his frequent snarking at Eggman makes it easy for fans to dismiss the latter as a joke, and as far as tastes go, there are simply a lot of other characters that tickle my fancy far more. And I do mean a lot.

However, while I'm still not in love with him per say, I've liked him more as time has gone on. Mostly because of how fucking awful certain adaptations have been with his portrayal and making me realise how good SEGA's Sonic is by comparison, but also because of my friends' fondness and understanding of him, as mentioned. Getting used to writing for him has also helped, I suppose.

That said, I don't understand why fans get weirded out when you prefer other characters over him. There are Mario fans whose favourite character isn't Mario, Zelda fans whose favourite character isn't Link, and so on, so why is it suddenly taboo with Sonic?

[jams-sims]

Chatterbox and pretty much all of the clowns rp has been so peak as of late. You know it bad when you have your tv working as a second screen to watch another person point of view. Nakkida has become one of my favorites, her music work makes every scene so intense. Wayne finally pulling himself together and become the youngest child to Tessa.

Chatterbox and Kirk give off mad eldest son vibes. Twinkles refuses to be part of the family so he is designated childhood bestfriend.

As a Chattercups girly, it does feel like we've reached a point where it doesnt really matter if Ray comes back or not. Chatty and Jagger his alt self seems committed to the idea of burning the funhouse down. The spiral may have started with her but it has now become something else. We have like mega plot points like Sooty dead husband, which was just a helpful way of killing a character who was already dead fully off to free the Mun. In short Dick was pretty much never coming back and this just helped the rp, like putting gasoline on a fire. Plus Clowns were never a family, i can write a whole essay on it. They were more like a compound of people stuck together through mutual truama. You cant call yourself a family when the leader hates your guts and doesnt mind if you get killed. But draws the line infavor of others. Your just a group with a bunch of smaller groups with a hierarchy issue.

Idk if I want to believe Cups/Rae are done done rp wise. I think they had a solid plan before the drama happened, which would leave a bad taste in anyone mouth. Then they said "oh once a big update drop she'll be back." But lets be honest I dont think CG is coming back (that just a gut feeling i would be happy to be wrong). An irl Rae is too busy making her own company, staring in movies to crave out time for rp. Especially if she's not vibing with it, plus its unfair to leave other characters in limbo just because of ONE person. So i can see why we're pushing forward as fast and as hard as we are going.

I would love some type of resolution to the ship tho. Besides it becoming," Cups comes back nothing is the same" and we call off the wedding and everything just to end it. Idk maybe its copium, but because the rp is so intense, it feels like she could drop in anytime and it would just explode so much shit. An I think thats what sucks the most because it is prime rp moments, like it is rainning diamonds thats how good it is. An I dont want it to be missed if Rae not gonna do the rp anymore. Just give me an ending that does not just end in "chatterbox gets his mask back" or "chatterbox in his jagger state kills cups."

No I need Ray to come back and knock jagger out and take him out to the beach and drown him repeatedly until Chatty brain becomes a scrambled mess and all his different personsilty mix together like soup. He doesnt get the mask back, I can take or leave the wedding. But I would find it funny if Ray had to tie up this new chatterbox to marry him and then kill him' i just think Ray personailty could scare Chatty back to "normal"

Honestly I got into gta nopixel because of Chattetcups, like legit it took a singke tiktok and I was in. I just want a satisfying ending.

[akai-anna]

HEY THERE MY LOVELY MUTUAL <3 <3 (I love when you reblog and queue my posts ur actually amazing ily so much I love reading your tags hugs hugs hugs <3 <3 <3 im in love, giggling kicking my feet everyday)

SAW THE CHARACTERS OPINION BINGO U REBLOGGED 👍 I GOTCHU

TAKAGI. BABY BOI OF DCMK (I remember seeing a poll rolling around somewhere about the most dcmk baby girl and Takagi won)

I will also have to have to ask you about Kaito HAHAH (my fav blorbo i will admit)

ok the thing is im from australia. choose an australian animal of your choice bc i am Intrigued. im not too sure how the bingo would translate though hahahah I don't think it would work very well

(feel free to also ask me anything or talk to me and about this bingo too >v0 b)

wait you know what i forgot LOL WE GOTTA HAVE THE PROTAGONIST DUO SHIN/CONE AS WELL. PLS

*LIGHTS UP LIKE A CHRISTMAS TREE* MY DEAR MUTUAL, HI CYN, HELLO!!!!

Firstly: WE'VE NEVER TALKED BEFORE BUT LET ME TELL YOU, I WAS (still am) SMILING LIKE AN IDIOT WHEN I SAW YOU SEND IN AN ASK! Yes, I keep track and i'm always happy to see you in my activity and my dash! (I'm also really happy to see we mutually share that feeling; I relate to the giggling kicking feet sentiment a lot.) I'm happy to have this chance to interact with you, in a sense, face to face! Bless you, darling, and I'm sending hugs right back at you.

Secondly: YOU HAVE EXCELLENT TASTE AND YOU HAVE MY ETERNAL ADORATION ESPECIALLY FOR ONE TAKAGI WATARU, he always needs more love, I FREAKING ADORE THAT MAN.

Thirdly: warning notes apply, as stated in previous asks:

I tend to interpret things liberally: only my own rules apply, which means ->

I check everything that makes sense to me, even if they might seem contradictory

The Character Opinion Bingo in question

Prepare for endless ranting. And as a certain someone says: さあショーの始まりだ わ!

I. Takagi Wataru

The Babygirl and Malewife of My Heart Personal Special Tag: #takagi is a good man

Points that I feel need a little elaboration:

I am so normal about them: I use the word "normal" as a synonym for "utterly obsessed with" and "absolutely love and adore". (I don't like the word in itself, hence, the only context I use it in, is this. But that is another story.)

*puts them in a salad spinner*: as in, the salad spinner is my brain, and he keeps rotating in it at high centrifugal force.

Canon isn't real if I don't look at it and That's a solid design right there: Detco Canon is... As much as I love it, I think we can agree it has its shortcomings/issues, and one of them is coming up. These two points go hand in hand at this moment because LOOK AT HIM!!! LOOK AT HIM!!! THIS MAN IS A BABY!!! LOOK AT HIM, HE'S PERFECT!!! THE SPIKY HAIR!!! THE SHAPES!!! THE COLOUR PALETTE!!! HE'S SO CUTE!!

I resonate with this particular video: his new design in the anime (partly thanks to the general Square-and-Pointy-fication) is just... THEY HAD THE PERFECT MAN. IT'S A CRIME. Bless that he is at least still cute in the manga, even if not the same way as in the early anime. The sharp cheekbones and soft looking hair have their charm.

My point is: THIS!!!! MAN!!! IS!!! A BABY!!!!

Literally I would kiss them and I want to BITE them: he makes me go FERAL with LOVE, and makes me feel like I want to gnaw on something or eat a whole fridge or scream endlessly into a pillow. I wouldn't do it to HIM (I'll leave that to Satou Miwako), but generally, the feeling is there. (Okay, I'll be honest, I would totally give him forehead, cheek, or hair kisses.)

To close his section, have one of my favourite bits about this Baby Of A Man. That poll was absolutely right about him, THE ULTIMATE BABYGIRL (and Malewife TM).

⊱✿⊰

II. Kuroba Kaito/Kaitou KID

The Local Mischief and Chaos Bringer Personal Special Tag: #the magical agent of chaos

LOL I DIDN'T EXPECT TO GET A BINGO, EVEN WITH THE FREE SPACE HAHA

Some points are the same as for Takagi, but here is elaboration on the ones that don't match:

Bastard, A Beast Unleashed and They didn't get bullied enough: let's be real. He's an Absolute Menace. And I sort of love that about him. Highly competent (competency makes me go weak), and if that is not scary (and hot) I don't know what. And sometimes he also goes too far (lifting skirts is not okay at all, Kaito) and needs someone to put a leash on him (or kick a soccer ball at him/chase him in a classroom). I feel that sometimes he needs a bit of bullying a challenge, to think about things. And again, honesty: I love seeing him suffer a bit, I love his Panic Moments LOL. Not in a mean way. But I also love how kind he is; the baseball chapter in the MK manga has my heart, and the Clock Tower Heist, and the Red Tear chapter... Not to mention the Nightmare arc. He cares about people and making others happy. I feel I went on a tangent here. Onto the bastard bit: he CAN BE SUCH A BASTARD AND I LOVE THAT ABOUT HIM TOO. Two of my favourite bits of Bastardry from him include 1) HOW HE DISGUISED AS RAN AND HOW HE BAITED SHINICHI AT THE VERY END OF THAT ENCOUNTER and 2) THE WAY HE SENDS SHINICHI CAREENING IN THE SIDECAR LIKE IT'S NOTHING (but also Shinichi getting right back at him and setting fire to the fckin fuel.) Pure Bastard Energy.

I want their gender: I love the way he is just so free-spirited about how he dresses/disguises. And I love the thought of him and Aoko doing outfit swaps (I blame that competition in MK for these. Also look at these delightful posts on the topic).

Canon isn't real if I don't look at it: I have... issues, with canon, you could say. Like the way he has no support system, especially bothers me. I would like to see his character treated with more care (be it MK or DetCo). I live for good character development, and I crave that for him.

To close this section, have one of my favourite conversations between these two menaces of nature.

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III. Australian Animal of Choice: Koala

Fun fact: I've been in love with koalas ever since I got a keyholder plushie from relatives in Australia when I was like... in kindergarten? Or early elementary? Also don't worry, *puts on sunglasses* I wouldn't have mentioned animals, if I thought I couldn't work with them.

Elaboration is needed here I feel.

I am so normal about them: I'm not as obsessed as I used to be but I'm eternally fond of koalas. Did you know their fingerprints are so similar to us they could be mistaken for human fingerprints? Or how they spend most of their time sleeping because the eucalyptus they consume is toxic? Or how they can actually swim well? Or how they are literally surviving by being Dumb As Shit because Being Dumb Saves Energy? Yeah, I'm totally normal about them.

*projects onto them like a mf* and I want their gender: Oh to be a koala, just existing, sleeping, sometimes waking up to eat some eucalyptus, then going right back to sleep. I want that.

That's a solid design right there: HAVE YOU SEEN THEM? SO FLUFFY LOOKING!!! WITH BIG CLAWS!!! THE BIG NOSE!!! SO SHAPED!!! NOT TO MENTION THE EARS!!!

They are so silly and They Sure Do Exist: how did this animal even come into existence? Weird lil creatures. THEY ARE JUST SO SILLY. THE NOISES THE MAKE. Like oh my god.

Literally I would kiss them: THEY JUST LOOK SO SOFT, HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME NOT TO BURY MY FACE IN THE FUR?

⊱✿⊰

IV. Kudou Shinichi/Edogawa Conan

*Prof Agasa voice* He has many nicknames, like Gremlin Child, Absolute Menace, Ultimate Baby, Lil Nerd, Walking Encyclopedia Son, or Disaster Child. I think I call him as many names as I do my dear Rosie, so that is quite telling LMAO Personal Special Tag: #the detective gremlin

HDSBSKDB DOUBLE BINGO (AND ALMOST 4 BC HE'S ALSO DET'S FAV, SO ALMOST CROSSED OUT PROXY TOO KSJNVKSVNJS OK, my love for him is showing, I guess)

EDIT: FCKIN TRIPLE BINGO AS @vampirecatsw POINTED OUT oh my god, I'm blind

Again, some thoughts on relevant bits.

*projects onto them like a mf*: THIS CHILD IS SO FCKIN NEURODIVERGENT, AND I FCKIN RELATE, ALSO HE LOVES AND CARES SO DEEPLY IT HURTS AND I RELATE SO HARD.

A Beast Unleashed: another MENACE OF NATURE. You cannot let him roam free, he finds trouble like it's Breathing. Also love it when he goes ballistic. Or when he shows how competent he is. Like GOD. HE'S AMAZING, and he's a danger to criminals and himself, mostly.

Everyone else if wrong about them: not EVERYONE, just... some people. We agreed with a friend that some of our issues in portrayal lies with the fandom sort assigning him traits that Hakuba has, but not Shinichi (Hakubification). Of course, people can have their fun with it, but it's not for me and have my own opinions on the matter.

Canon isn't real if I don't look at it: again, DetCo has issues. Like the lack of continuity/ erased character development, or not bringing up issues ever again, and the like. Early DetCo was GOOD at these, and I miss those times.

That's a solid design right there and I fuck with this aesthetic so hard: HE IS!!!! SO SHAPED!!!!! SO ROUND!!! (or at least used to be) THE GENTLE CURVES OF HIS FACE!!! THE SILLY HAIR!!!! NOT TO MENTION HIS FCKIN WARDROBE!!!! I'M OBSESSED WITH HIM!!! Also, I have a huge thing for blue eyes and dark hair combination, not to mention the glasses... I'm fckin weak for glasses... god. He just hits all the right spots in my heart and brain. (Not to mention his personality, I WANT TO CRY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH-)

They didn't get bullied enough: I live for others teasing Gremlin Child. It's not quite bullying (never HURT HIM FOR REAL, I'LL CRY), but he needs to be TEASED MORE FOR SURE. I guess Bastardry also fits into this, that's good too.

SQUEAK: sometimes he is just so DUMB I want to SQUISH HIM HARD OR SHAKE HIM. I LOVE HIM, I SO DO, even if he is an idiot at times. God. I love him.

Literally I would kiss them and I want to BITE them: HIS CHEEKS ARE SO PERFECTLY ROUND I WANT TO CHOMP ON THEM. ALSO ALL THE KISSES TO HIM!!!!! BABY BOY!!!! GIVE HIM ALL THE KISSES!!!! AND HUGS TOO!!!

Bastard: the way he FCKS WITH SOME CRIMINALS. OH MY GOD. THE WAY HE IS SOMETIMES A MENACE ON PURPOSE. THE WAY HE SOMETIMES GETS SO ANNOYED HE JUST GOES FOR HIS WATCH. Also the way he is an absolute bastard to KID. His attitude is just so. *chef kiss* Love a menace of a child, HE'S AMAZING. HIS RAZOR SHARP SMIRK, THE MISCHIEVOUS CHILD FACE.

I have way too many favourite bits related to this boi. So. Have these random screencaps from my DCMK folder.

I hope you have fun reading this madness, Cyn! I HAD AN ABSOLUTE BLAST, YOU HAVE MY ETERNAL LOVE, may you have an absolutely blessed day, dear.

[password-door-lock]

Mystictober Day 16-- Saeran x MC/Dessert

“My love, would you like some ice cream?” Saeran calls from the kitchen.

You look up from your book. “What kind of a question is that, honey?” You can't help but tease him a little. “Of course I want ice cream.”

“Alright, darling.” You can hear the smile in Saeran's voice, which is followed by a few conspicuous clinking noises that suggest he's getting out some bowls and spoons.

You set your book down— reading can wait. Instead, you make your way to the kitchen. “What flavor did you get?” You and Saeran often experiment with ice cream flavors— of course, you have plenty of standbys, like strawberry, vanilla, and mint chocolate chip, but the two of you are in the process of trying just about every variety of ice cream that your local grocery store offers. Honestly, most of the time, there are at least three cartons of ice cream in your freezer, but you know that Saeran stopped into the store today while you were at work, and it goes without saying that he used the opportunity to choose a new flavor. 

“Raspberry cheesecake,” he informs you, carefully scooping some of the ice cream into one of the bowls. He's like a wizard with that ice cream scoop— without fail, every time he uses it, he produces something that looks like it belongs in a food magazine. “I don't think we've had this one yet.”

You consider it. There are so many different cheesecake flavors that you've lost track of them over the course of the past few months. “Where did you put the ice cream journal, again, honey?” You ask.

Saeran shakes his head with a gentle laugh. “I put it where it goes, my love.”

A few weeks after you moved in together, you and Saeran started keeping track of your mutual ice cream consumption in a small purple journal, writing reviews of various flavors for the benefit of your future selves. The journal has earned a designated position on the bookshelf, though you've been known to leave it on the kitchen counter beside the fridge, as well. “And how was I supposed to know that?” You ask innocently as you retrieve the item. “It could have been anywhere.”

“Could it?” The sound of the freezer door tells you that the ice cream is ready and Saeran is putting the carton away.

You establish yourself in your usual position at the kitchen table, and he slides into his chair across from you. “Yes,” you grin, flipping to the index section of the book. There is no raspberry cheesecake entry to be found. “I guess we haven't tried this one yet.”

Saeran passes you a spoon. “That's what I thought,” he assures you with a triumphant smile. Before you can dig into the ice cream, you are confronted with a spoon in your face. “Let me know how it tastes, my angel.”

“Why did you give me a spoon if you didn't want me to use it?” You tease, though of course, you don't pass up the opportunity to try some ice cream. The raspberry swirls and cream cheese base are delicious, though you could do without the clumps of crust. “It's pretty good,” you announce. “Here, you try it, love.”

You get a good spoonful of the ice cream, trying your best to catch all three elements on your spoon before extending it toward Saeran. “You don't seem to want me to use my spoon, either, darling.” His eyes twinkle with mirth, though he seems to share your views on not passing up free ice cream. “I liked the strawberry cheesecake better,” is his eventual evaluation. 

“Me too, honestly,” you can’t help but agree. “This isn’t bad, though.” 

“There’s no such thing as bad ice cream,” Saeran decides. “Especially when we’re enjoying it together.” 

“That’s very sweet,” you concede, “But it is absolutely not what you said when we tried—” 

He cuts you off with a brief, raspberry cheesecake-flavored kiss. “Shh.” The mischief in his eyes when he pulls away makes you want to kiss him again. “Let’s never think about that again.” 

You can’t help but laugh. Although most of the flavors that the two of you have tried together have been nothing short of delicious, the popcorn ice cream that you sampled three weeks ago didn’t even come close to hitting the mark. You can understand why Saeran would want to forget about it. “Okay. My lips are sealed— well, I mean, unless you want to kiss me again.” 

Saeran shakes his head and chuckles at your bad joke. You’re so thankful that you have so many opportunities to make him laugh. “Hm,” he regards you with obvious adoration, and despite how many times you've seen that look in his eyes, your heart skips a beat, just like it did the first time. “I’ll keep that in mind, my love.” 

[hunter-sylvester]

hey I saw you when I first got into the metal lords fandom but I didn't know you also liked shelter, what do you think Hunters opinion on would Ema be? (not that they have too much in common but i feel like he'd like her) Also, Hunters opinion on spoon?

Hey 🤘

I have been enjoying Shelter, but definitely in a much more casual way than I do Metal Lords.

I haven't really thought that much about how he'd feel about them/how they'd feel about each other, but I like the question. I'll have to base it off of the 4 episodes that are out so far, of course. Which isn't that much so this may change based on what else we see from the characters. (also might contain very very slight spoilers for those episodes idk just a fair warning)

Firstly, I don't disagree that Hunter might like Ema if he actually got to know her a bit. But I feel like on first glance he'd feel somewhat threatened by her.

Like, I think he might feel like she was sort-of invading his territory by being a weird, grumpy, alternative outsider. I also think he'd be a bit jealous of her professionally done temporary tattoos, although he would absolutely never admit that.

(this got kinda long, I'm sorry. I have a lot of opinions about Hunter and how he works/thinks lmao)

With how standoffish to new people both Hunter and Ema are I think it would take something of a 'forced' bonding moment for them to initially get to know one another. Because on first glance, Ema would probably think Hunter is just a massive dick. (Which is fair.) And Hunter would think that Ema is a dick. (He's got the self awareness of a wet rag.)

Basically, I feel like the first few steps of them getting to know each other would be an uphill slog through barbed-wire laden mud. But after that, and once they actually do get to know one another, I think they could make quite good friends in the long run. They're both (basically) canonically queer and I personally view Hunter as gay and Ema as a lesbian. So they could have quite a fun dynamic based on that and all their other quirks combined.

I think he'd dig her art too, he might even ask her to design an album/EP cover for Skullflower. That could be a nice initial way for them to interact in a more open way. Probably after the first mutual "yeah maybe you're okay, actually" moment. I don't think we've had much of a confirmation of Ema's music taste but she might like their music as well. And very very maybe she could even sing a chorus on one of their songs. That might be cool. Although I think it would take some time and personal growth on Hunter's part for him to want/be okay with something like that.

Now, Spoon. Weirdly enough, I watched an interview where Adrian was asked if Spoon and Hunter would be friends and I don't disagree with his answer:

"I think Spoon would give it a shot, I don't know if Hunter would be up for it."

In addition tho, I think if Spoon manages not to accidentally press too many of Hunter's buttons, he would be able to wear him down. (Which sounds terrible, but I mean it more in the sense that I think Hunter just needs a bit of time to get used to people.) Spoon seems quite accepting of Ema's general grumpy-black-cat attitude, so I think he would probably extend a similar patience to Hunter. Which I think is something Hunter needs in people, it's a quality I think Kevin has. Someone who doesn't take the odd snappy comment or what I call "hedgehog moments"* too personally.

*hedgehog moments or 'hedgehogging' is basically when someone feels threatened so they metaphorically curl up and stick their spines out in a reflexive attack to keep themselves safe. (I don't know if it's a term anybody but me and my friends use but it makes sense in my head)

I think Hunter would initially think Spoon is...well...lame as hell, unfortunately. And probably pretty annoying. I think one of the things that might help Hunter see him in a better light would be if Spoon impressed him somehow. Either by getting him in somewhere he's not supposed to be through the Janitorial Offspring Network or something tech related. Like, maybe getting him a download of some unreleased music he couldn't get otherwise. Like once he sees him do some 'cool' illegal shit his tune might change. Other than that I think just the persistent non-judgemental attention would do the trick over time. Spoon seems pretty loyal and like a 'fierce' friend. Which Hunter would appreciate with his abandonment issues and fear of being "invisible" (cough result of parental neglect cough)

Thank you for asking! I enjoyed scribbling my thoughts on this down ^-^ I do hope it's not too long and jumbled (I have adhd, if it's a mess, that's why)

As always, this is just my 2cents based on my interpretation of the character(s)

[mr-cha-n]

A Picture of You

Pairing: Vernon Chwe x fem!Reader

Genres: fluff, angst, smut, Regency au

Warnings: Profanities, mutual pining, hurt, sexual content, unprotected sex, penetration, hand stuff (m. and f. receiving), virginity, mentions of death, Shakespeare

Word Count: 22.2k

Summary: Three years away was meant to quell a decade of unrequited love, but your family home appears not to be the only thing you are returning to.

The pictures on the walls of Sandfort Manor have changed since you'd last been here. Of course, you haven't had a chance to look further than the first few corridors yet, but it is three for three on renovated collections so far. The hedonistic luxury of the rococo-era paintings has completely disappeared, and even the more subdued classic portraitures have been replaced by sprawling landscapes of a distinctly more sombre colour palette. 

Moving into the drawing room that your cousins have excused themselves to whilst you settled back into your room, you are filled with a confusing mix of disbelief and relief as you come face-to-face with the gaudy, oversized portraits of your grandfather that had somehow escaped the culling. At least there are a few things which have survived since your departure.

"Ah, cousin! Have you finished unpacking?" Rosa's voice floats across the room, and you turn your attention towards the sofas set in the middle of the room.

"Not nearly, but there is enough time to finish that later! I wanted to give you all something from Edinburgh, as a token of my gratitude for letting me stay with you."

Swinging your arms from behind your back, you reveal three small parcels, neatly wrapped with paper and ribbon. Hushed gasps of delight leave Rosa and Harriet's mouths, and Joshua gives you a devilish grin that makes him look twelve again. You'd spent hours painstakingly picking out the gifts in the market the week before you left, agonising about whether your cousins would have the same tastes you remembered and scrambling to find any further clues in your correspondences.

Harriet had been the easiest to buy for - her taste for opulence has been set in stone since she'd first gazed at the emerald necklace your aunt bought when Harriet was but three years old. Whilst you could not afford anything close to what she would buy for herself, you were able to commission a fellow student of yours to design her an ornate, painted trinket box to hold her most valuable possessions. The loud exclamation of excitement and look of awe on her face tells you that you'd pitched it just right. 

Josh's gift had taken a bit of time to hunt down, but you'd had a solid idea from the start. The pair of you had always been close due to your shared love of the arts, and even if he rarely had time for them now, you still wanted to get him something to remind him of that connection. The set of traditional bamboo calligraphy tools you'd found would at least look good in a display if he never decided to use them, but the quick ramble of gratitude and the detailed inspection he was giving the brushes suggested otherwise.

Rosa has always been the hardest cousin to buy for. Her naturally private disposition means she rarely talks about herself at all, and you'd only had what you remembered from your shared childhood to go off of. She'd mastered the pianoforte and the art of small talk at the same age that you'd figured out how to sneak into the kitchens for snacks, but you never got the impression that any of it genuinely excited her. After much thinking, you decided to go the more sentimental route and pick up a small, pearl hair clip that resembled one your grandmother had lost when you were children. Her expression has always been hard to read, but the small smile that peaks out as she opens the package is enough to satisfy you.

"... perfect size for my new rings I just acquired from the merchant in James Street! Or, I could use it as a little bag and show it off to all the ladies at the ball at Mounthaven Estate..." Harriet's excited chatter fills the room in a way that makes your heart happy to be back. The paintings on the walls may have changed, but the shadows of your childhood remain, and you are happy to be back with your family again after your years away.

A new voice enters the room, shocking the cousins out of their nostalgic wonderland.

"Mr Chwe, for Mr Hong," The footman declares. 

A pang of panic rises through your chest as the pace of your heartbeat skyrockets. Turning slowly to face the doorway, you are struck with the sight of the man you'd loved since childhood, staring with shocked delight back at you.

Hansol's day had taken a turn for the worse. A dreadful night's sleep, interrupted constantly by a particularly loud warbling bird that arose much earlier than the sun did, was only made worse by the painful boink to the head he'd received when misstepping out of his bed. Despite the dreary start, he'd managed to lighten his mood with a delicious plate of eggs for breakfast, and happy conversation with his sister and mother. 

This had given him false hope. A series of unfortunate events, including breaking one of his guitar strings, the wheel of the carriage coming loose, and, worst of all, the rip he'd found in his last pair of satin evening shoes had him marching over to his neighbour's house like a maid looking for a cup of sugar.  Thankfully, he and Joshua wore similar-sized shoes, and an emergency loan was a far better alternative to buying a new set of shoes.

Stepping into the familiar entranceway, Hansol greets the footman on the door, waiting to be let into the house. The process of formality is still amusing to him. Having to wait to be formally admitted to a place he'd rampaged as a child, and continued to lounge around weekly, is paradoxical, but it doesn't bother him too much. The polite small talk with the footmen had quickly morphed into a rundown on the latest changes about the house, and he revels in being able to tease his friend about things Josh hasn't even disclosed to him yet. This morning, however, a different footman has taken the position of manor bouncer, and the loss of the daily update is yet one more sour addition to his day.

Walking into the drawing room, it takes him a moment to recognise the new figure in the room as you. At first, your simple muslin gown, which had been hitched up into your petticoat, makes him mistake you for a lady's maid or kitchen staff. As you turn around to face him, Hansol feels a wash of warmth fill up his body, and he realises his mistake. You are older, your hair tied back in a way he's never seen you wear it before, and you stand a few inches taller than he remembers - but it is unmistakably you. 

"Miss Y/l/n! I wasn't aware that you'd returned to Sandfort!" He exclaims, unable to say anything more as the words falter in his mouth. You are looking at him with a polite smile and shining eyes and he swears that he's never seen anything like it. You look down, shuffling your feet and fixing your dress before looking back up at him.

"I just returned today, my Lord."

- My Lord? Hansol tries to keep the perturbed look off of his face at the formality of your speech. At the realisation that you hadn't simply been looking down but that you were actually bowing at him, he fails at this goal.

Any thought of correcting your address is quickly swept up as Joshua gleefully approaches him, extending a neat box in hand towards him.

"Hansol, look at this! Y/n brought us all gifts back from Edinburgh! I suppose you must be awfully jealous that you did not receive anything, but I'll let you borrow them if you want."

Hansol looks back towards you, noting the shy smile on your face and the lack of eye contact that you are offering, and turns back towards Joshua, giving him an impressed nod. 

"They're great quality. I didn't know that Edinburgh had a market for such things."

"I got a trinket box, and Rosa got a hairpin! Rosa, turn around so he can see..." Harriet surges forward, offering him a wide smile. As instructed, Rosa turns to the side to show him the hairpin already attached to her head after bowing her head in greeting. 

The jovial countenance of your cousins is a confusing juxtaposition to the formality wavering off of you. Hansol wonders if time in Edinburgh has changed you so much that you've become unrecognisable to him, or if he's done something to offend you. The stormy thoughts plague his mind as Joshua and Harriet prattle on about their plans for the day, which he hardly catches on to. All the while, you remain stoically silent and comparatively expressionless except for a few small, polite smiles. 

"... Why are you here, by the way?" Hansol catches the quizzical look Joshua is giving him, and realises he's been asked a question.

"Oh, um, I ripped my last pair of satin shoes and was wondering if I could borrow a pair for the ball tonight?" He replies, forcing his mind back to the conversation at hand. 

"Ah! Of course, let me go grab a pair. I know exactly which ones you should have!" Joshua smiles in a discomforting way, and Hansol wonders if he has a spare pair of jester's garb waiting for this exact moment. 

You're stuck in the same position to the side of the settee. 

Rosa and Harriet return to their seats quickly after Josh hurries out of the room, and you and Hansol are left standing together. You'd hoped that he'd go and sit with your cousins so that you could excuse yourself, but his unmoving stance tells you otherwise.

Your heartbeat jumps once again as he addresses you. 

"Miss Y/l/n, how was your time in Edinburgh?" His words are polite, and his gaze inquisitive, but it makes you shift uncomfortably nonetheless.

"Oh, it was very fulfilling, my Lord! My mentor, Mr Edgeworth, believes that I have honed my craft enough that I will be able to find sculpting work soon, and having such a good connection to the Ton is a great advantage for me. There were a great many different types of artists in Mr Edgeworth's school so I really got to learn and meet a lot of different people, and - well, I'm very grateful for my cousin's sponsorship."

Hansol's eyes are asking you to continue talking, but you are overwhelmed with the attention and your tendency to ramble on about art, not to mention the way he's looking at you, and you cut yourself short. A sheepish blush trickles up your neck, hiding the heat in your cheeks under his gaze.

"And you, how are you and your family, my Lord?" 

"They are well, as am I. My father is away attending to business in London at the moment, and Sofia is clamouring to join him, so I suspect that she and perhaps mother as well will soon travel to the city soon."

"You as well? Or are you intending to stay in the country, my Lord?" 

"I shall stay here for a while, at least until I am obliged to return to London. I much prefer the estate in the summer, and there is much to do still."

Hansol's hands run over the sides of his chest as if wiping off imaginary dirt, and you cannot help but follow them with your eyes. He is very much the same boy you knew, just in a man's body. The larger build and more defined bone structure are the only clues that he has aged, and you wonder if he thinks the same thing about you, or if you are unrecognisable to him. You'd developed a lot across the five years away, leaving behind the bony, formless teenager and growing into your body. An image of your mother, your father had told you in his last visit a year ago. The bittersweet knowledge that he'd been able to see you grow up before passing was more than what your mother was granted, and you wonder if being back at Sandfort has left you defenceless to the floods of memory.

You must have been staring into space for a long while, as Joshua returns to the drawing room and you are met with a concerned glance from Hansol.

"Ah, of course! The air is much nicer in the country..." You feel yourself cringing at your clumsy conversation skills, hoping he doesn't take your lack of speech as a lack of interest. "And, I suppose you must be preparing for your next role at the Solaris? If you are still participating in the summer show?"

Hansol has been acting in the Solaris theatre summer show as long as you've known him. You remember watching him as a child fill up the stage with an unexplainable aura, and you were sure the whole theatre couldn't take their eyes off of him. Every year he'd gotten the best role for your age group and he'd downplayed the achievement, saying that it was just because of his family name, but you knew that no one else could have outshone him once he got on to that stage. It was an unorthodox hobby for a member of the Ton, and you'd heard a few people bad-mouthing it when you were a teenager, but that never seemed to bother Hansol. In another life, perhaps if he'd been born to the same station you had, you think he would have done it professionally. Last you'd heard, he was still joining in on the plays each summer, but it had been a while since you'd last corresponded. 

The concern has completely melted off of Hansol's face and been replaced with the tooth-bearing grin you know so well.

"Yes! The rehearsals are underway now, and Mr Downey sent out fliers to all of the neighbouring towns so they're hoping for the biggest crowd yet!"

It warms your heart to hear him so passionate about the play, and your mind races thinking about watching him on stage again.

"They're doing A Midsummer Night's Dream - I thought Hansol suited Nicholas Bottom, but they let him be Demetrius," Josh rolls his eyes playfully, setting off Hansol's laughter. The sound of his laugh is so endearing to you, and you find yourself spiralling into your many memories of the two of you, heads back in laughter at something you'd end up getting told off for later that night.

"You can't reach! Just admit it!" A thirteen-year-old Hansol is stretching his hand out to a lily floating out on the lake, cheeks puffed in concentration and stomach hovering ever so delicately over the rippling water. You let out an exaggerated gasp as his fingers graze the tips of the flower's leaves, and that is when he makes a crucial mistake. Too confident in his abilities, he looks back around at you to taunt you for not believing in him, and the last thing you see is his toothy-smiled mouth turning into a gaping fish as he plunges into the shallow, mossy water. The shrieks that leave you are closer to your water-born companions than to any human sound, and, as soon as he's finished spluttering all of the water that had filled his open mouth out, Hansol is quick to join you in your squawking. You hear his mother screech at him as he drips his way back into his house from your room, and smile to yourself, cheeks aflush as you place your new lily on the small planter on your windowsill.

The memory has you stuck, and once again you fill with the same anxiety that you'd felt the moment Hansol had walked through the drawing room door. 

You bow your head once more and excuse yourself from the room with the excuse of your unpacked suitcases. As you get into the safety of your room, you realise your cheeks are flushed, and your palms are indented with shallow nail marks. Huffing at yourself in disbelief, you wonder why such a simple, normal conversation had gotten you so worked up. 

It's not that you have any issue with Hansol, you just weren't expecting to see him so soon. He'd entered your thoughts once on your journey back, and any questions about whether or not you still had feelings for him were immediately answered as you caught sight of him leaning in the doorframe. It pains you how, even after three years, you feel yourself revert into a blushing schoolgirl; left floundering from the moment you see him, whilst he managed to speak to you as if you'd never left.

Except, and perhaps it hadn't dawned on him yet, it was not the same as when you were children. The relaxed attitudes of his parents and your family had allowed you to join your cousins as a child undeserving of exclusion. But, you weren't the same as your cousins, or Hansol and his sister. The illegitimacy of your birth, an unintended consequence of a passionate, yet illicit affair between your noble mother and a common school teacher, removed you from any real standing in society. You could pretend that this wasn't the case as children, but now, grown, it could no longer be ignored.

Your hands comb out the knots in your hair as a loud sigh exits your mouth, your body slumped on the seat next to your window. The wedge between you and Hansol was predestined, and it is essential that you understand the limitations of your position. The thought of bringing shame and scandal to him is far scarier to you than a few hurt feelings you've already been nursing for over a decade.

The sun gleams through the windows of Joshua's study as you excitedly recount the events of your interview with him.

"... I'm convinced that they offered the job to me because there are no other sculptors living close enough to take on the project, but I will hardly complain about that! Oh, Josh ... thank you so much. I doubt they would have looked twice at me if you hadn't mentioned it; I'm truly indebted to you."

You laud your praises onto your cousin with elation soaring in your chest, as Joshua proudly smiles back at you.

"Nonsense, cousin. You got the job because you are a talented sculptor. Or, sculptress? ... Either way," He shakes his head, "you deserve this opportunity."

Joshua had mentioned that the church in the middle of town had plans to renovate in his last letter to you, but you hadn't realised how fortuitous your timing had been. Looking for a sculptor to craft the statues and decorations for the new building, the Reverend had put out a call for interested craftsmen. To your luck, Josh had overheard the Reverend talking about it and had submitted your name for consideration.

"Oh, by the way, Hansol was asking after your health. He wondered if you were not feeling well the day you came back, and I told him you were fine, but probably weary from travel," Joshua gives you a pointed look, "but, I had also noticed your strange behaviour after his arrival. I thought you two were close?"

You knew that your behaviour had been unusual compared to how you'd previously been with Hansol, but you hadn't realised it was so glaringly obvious.

"Cousin, you understand my position right? I am the daughter of a teacher, not a member of society, and Lord Granby is the heir to the Duchy of Rutland. As much as I feel a part of this family, the reality is that I am not your, or his, equal. I can waver the formalities for you and the girls because we are blood, but any extension on that would be highly inappropriate."

Your arms are crossed, and you disgruntledly wonder if Josh, or your other cousins, had taken any time to consider this. The realisation shining in his eyes verifies your assessment, and you release a long sigh. 

"I'm sorry, cousin. I do not like it any more than you do, but it's just the way society works and my family has felt the scorn of the Ton too much already for me to risk flaunting about in a manner untoward of my station."

Josh nods, smiling sadly at you.

"I understand. I'm sorry I pressed you on it. I was simply surprised because of how close you two used to be, but I hadn't considered how unusual our arrangement as children was. I wouldn't want you to do anything that compromises your position, cousin."

Your irritation at his lack of forethought is flushed out by the kindness in his words and voice. 

"Don't be feeling too much pity for me, cousin," a grin dawns across your face, "I get to spend my time sculpting angels, demons and saints for a wage, whilst Rosa and Harriet are contained to the refineries of society life. I, at least, have much more freedom to choose how my life goes than they do!"

"Thanks to our generosity, mind you," Josh lets out a hearty laugh, grasping your hand comfortingly. You nod your head with a large smile, very much aware of the privilege of your position. 

"Should I start cooking your breakfast as thanks, my Lord?" You utter with a mocking bow, and Josh pulls you back up with an exacerbated laugh. 

"I wouldn't chance eating your food, personally. But thank you for the offer." He replies, and the two of you are left with a familiar feeling of companionship. After a moment's rest, he sharply jumps out of his chair, pulling you towards the door of the office.

"Come, cousin! I've been meaning to show you the new inhabitants of the lake, and we must go now before I forget again!" 

Laughing merrily out of the room, you let yourself be pulled by your cousin into the shining welcome of the sunny gardens.

Hansol has visited the manor twice already this week, and he hasn't seen you once.

Admittedly, he is a common frequenter of Sandfort on any given week, but he feels himself yearning to visit more than usual.

On his first visit this week, Joshua had told him about your job in the church, and that you'd likely be confined to your workroom for the upcoming weeks, if not months. Even with your absence explained, Hansol cannot help but want to know why you were acting so strangely towards him.

One day of chatting and playing parlour games with Joshua, Harriet and Rosa had turned into a second day of riding around the estate. Coming a third day this week, he was running out of activities to excuse his long stays at the manor. 

Borrowing a book and staying to read it ended up being the excuse of choice. Immediately after seeing Rosa perching up on the sofa, book in hand, Hansol exclaims his need for new literature. He didn't miss the perplexed look given between Joshua and Harriet. Yet, after a whole day of reading and discussion, you still have not appeared.

Just as he thinks he might have to endure the embarrassment of a fourth visit, Hansol gets his opportunity. Rosa, who had left a few hours earlier to meet a friend in town, returns to the drawing room bags in hand.

"What did you get, sister?" Harriet asks, nosily poking her head into the bags. The implicit question of whether or not Rosa had bought anything for her did not need to be said.

"Just a few pieces for the summer faire. Laura mentioned that all of the girls are going to be wearing bows this year, and so I thought I ought to get us some in case she was right."

Rosa hands a pink bow over the Harriet, who looks very satisfied at the prospect of being in fashion. 

"Oh, and I got the wire brush Y/n asked for. Mr Shaw, could you please deliver this brush to -"

"I can do it!" Hansol cuts her off, too excited to see the looks that the Hong family gives him. He clears his throat, recomposing his words and hoping his mind will join soon after.

"I mean- I was about to head off, anyways. I'm happy to drop the tool off with Miss Y/l/n on my way?"

Rosa gives him a sceptical look, and it's clear to Hansol that they are both aware that your studio is not on the way out of the house, but she chooses to say nothing, and he is very grateful. He has to stop himself from walking too quickly as she hands the brush box over to him with a small nod.

Your studio is, actually, far from the exit, and not a room Hansol has visited before. Descending to a level he has never needed to visit other than to access the kitchens, Hansol soon puzzles his way to a large set of wooden doors with clay stains on the handle, and congratulates himself for finding the right room.

He hesitates outside the door for a few moments, slightly apprehensive about bothering you whilst you are working, but the brush in hand gives him the confidence to rap his knuckles against the door. From the outside, he hears scuffled movement and a rustling of fabrics, before a voice calls out to welcome him into the room.

Walking into your studio is like walking into a museum. Walls with rows of statues made out of a variety of different materials but all stunningly impressive stare back at him, as his mouth gapes into an unspoken wow. He wonders how many of them are for your project at the church, and how many are just practice versions that will never be seen in public. He's always been impressed by your art since you were children together, but he hadn't expected the treasury of masterful sculptures that you have created for yourself.

"Ah, do you have -" You look up, and your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline in shock, ""My Lord! I'm sorry, I didn't realise that you were visiting; I thought you were Rosa!"

Hansol realises that in his awe he's just stood at the entrance and has yet to speak to you.

"They're incredible ... I knew you were always good at art, but I didn't realise how good you've become," He marvels, and if he's struggling to word his astonishment, he's glad that he can at least sing your praises. A slight blush bruises your cheeks at the compliment, and he cannot comprehend that you haven't been extolled enough to have gotten used to it yet.

"Ah, thank you. They're not finished yet, but this one is the closest yet to the vision in my head."

"How come you've used all these different materials?" He asks, pointing back at the wall.

"The church statues are going to be in marble, but I am most familiar with clay. So, I've been making prototypes in clay and trying to translate them into different materials before wasting any of the marble," You explain softly, spinning the clay head in your hands, "My lord."

His heart feels heavy once again at the use of the formality, and he feels you building up the same barrier as you did in the drawing room. Lifting his eyes to meet yours, he gives you an injured expression.

"Please, we have known each other for so long, Miss Y/l/n. The formal titles really aren't necessary."

Hansol watches your expression shift in a way he can't decipher, as you work out how you wish to reply.

"Okay, Mr Chwe, if you are sure?" You hesitate, looking uncertainly at him. The satisfaction of the moment is slightly hindered by the knowledge that you are only doing it at his request, but he still considers this a crack in the barrier.

"I am certain. Surely you were not gone away so long as to forget me altogether?" He asks, hoping his attempt to lighten to mood will make you feel more comfortable.

"The men in Edinburgh were certainly a lot more punctual," You crack a sly smile as you tease him, and he feels his whole mood lighten as the glimmers of your old relationship flick on, "but I suppose I did miss having someone to count constellations with."

Hansol hadn't expected you to bring up stargazing, but the fondness in your voice sends him straight back to the nights you'd spent staring up at the darkened sky pointing out different formations together. It is one of his favourite activities you used to do together too, and he is surprised it has come to your mind over the kitchen raids and horse races that you always seemed to enjoy the most. He feels an unwitting smile stretch across his mouth at the memory.

"We might have to go out again soon, I'm not sure that I can remember them all still."

"I'll be happy as long as we can see -"

"Cygnus, the winged rescuer." Hansol finishes. Cygnus had always been your favourite constellation to spot. He remembers when you'd first learnt the story, and you'd recounted it to him that night, passionately acting out the beautiful tragedy of the two friends. You'd been so impassioned about it, and when he'd asked why you liked it so much you'd said that the pinnacle of love was knowing you'd dive to the bottom of the ocean just to give your loved one the gift of peace. It was a raw insight into your brain that he'd see again and again as you spent your young summers together, but he will always remember that first revelation.

You are looking at him in a way that suggests that you didn't think he'd remember that, and he feels wounded that you could ever think that.

"Yes, although with the stormy nights we've had this week, I'd be grateful to see any stars at all," You say, looking back down at the half-formed head and shielding your expression from his view.

Hansol feels the air in the room shift, and realises that he shouldn't overstay his welcome too long when you have work to get on with.

"I'm glad you're well, Miss Y/l/n. I'm looking forward to when the clouds decide to clear away," He nods his head at you in farewell, spinning on his heel to leave the room.

"Mr Chwe!" You call you, and he's spinning back around even quicker, his heart peaking in anticipation of what you felt you needed to tell him.

"My brushes, you're still holding them," You're smiling at him, but he doesn't see it as his eyes go straight towards his hands in which, as you point out, he is still holding the package he's completely forgotten to give you. Embarrassment flushes his face and he mentally curses his foolish memory for abandoning him once again. All he can offer you is another nod, a sheepish grin, the package which he places gently on the table closest to him, and a swift exit.

White spots blur your vision as you step out onto the warm stone patio, and you swear the sun has moved closer to Earth in the time you've been working in your studio.

You realised that you had to leave that room when you woke up at 3am last night with your drool still stuck to your workshop desk and three empty bowls of previous meals tauntingly toppled on top of the now-stained sketchwork you'd started the morning before. Moving into your bedroom and giving yourself the luxury of one lie-in has rejuvenated you enough to pass as a human again. Now, stepping into the beaming heat, you promise yourself that you will go outside at least once a day from now onwards.

Tiptoeing into the extensive lawns behind the pretty hedged garden, you spot Harriet and Rosa embroidering and reading on some chairs under a shaded tree, and Josh and Hansol curling stones into the expanses of the great lake. Even from your distance, you could hear Josh gleefully shouting out the current score tally, and the look on Hansol's face makes you wonder if he'd even known it was a competition when he joined the activity.

"Oh, she's alive!" Harriet cries, turning around to energetically wave you over to their covering. "What is it they say? 'the dull, yellow eye of the creature opens, and breathless horror fills my heart'?"

"Are you trying to quote Frankenstein?" Rosa's eyebrows furrow in unimpressed scorn. "I wasn't aware that you'd had any time to read lately, sister."

Harriet scoffs, irate that her attempts to tease you had turned back on her.

"I read, thank you! It's important to stay up-to-date with the newest literature so that you are well prepared for any conversation." She sticks her nose up, letting out an over-emphasised huff in Rosa's direction.

"Well, I for one commend you, cousin. I wasn't aware that you'd graduated to books with words." You sit down on one of the empty lawn chairs, a grin cracking across your face as Harriet's face falls from elated to stormy at your jab. You almost want to run back and grab a canvas to capture the expression forever, but before you can think to move she's wiped her face clear and distracted herself with her embroidery again.

"We're going to the faire this afternoon, cousin. Do you want to come?" Rosa turns and looks at you pensively.

The faire had been a staple of town life as long as you'd stayed at the manor, and used to be one of your favourite activities as a child. Brass bands and colourful hobby horses were only beaten by the extravagant arrays of market stalls selling everything from breads and toys to cattle and hand-crafted furniture. You loved searching through the vast arrays of homemade goods, in awe of everything that the human body could create. Yet, you falter when you realise what going to the faire would mean now. The ignorant bliss of childhood had washed away the disapproving stares and catty whispers that darken your memory. People already thought that you were scrounging off of your cousins, and your ambition to disprove their judgements sours any thought of flaunting your borrowed wealth in front of the people you hope could respect you.

"No, thank you though," You look down, guiltily fiddling with your hands, "I have a lot to do today, but you must bring me back a treat from the market."

Rosa nods with a content smile, before looking back at her book. You feel a pang of uncertainty about your decision, but you think it's ultimately for the best.

It's not long before the quartet head off to the faire, promising to bring you back a gift. Your eyes linger on Hansol's retreating figure as you have the chance to fully take in how much he's grown since you've been away. If you could go back and tell your younger self that he's found a hairstyle that suits him even more than the cute ringlets that curled around his ears you think she'd laugh in your face. And yet, you're struggling to deal with the swell in your heart when you look at him just as much as she had all those years ago.

You aren't able to motivate yourself to go back inside and work that afternoon, instead justifying your procrastination by taking a small drawing pad outside and practising your colour theory with portraits of the rippling lake water first in the beaming white-yellow light of midday, then the gorgeous glow of sunset, and finally the mysterious purple and navy starscape as the sun dips behind the horizon. You'd tucked yourself away from prying eyes under a large willow at the east side of the lake, feeling a burst of freedom within the natural world you rarely get to encounter recently. Your cousins returned a little while ago, and you could see the candlelight of the drawing room illuminating the shadows of the setees through the closed curtains.

You almost jump out of your skin as the bush to the side of the willow rustles in time as the pliant branches of the tree are pushed to one side.

"Oh, sorry! It's me!" Hansol jumps back, matching your reaction as if he is shocked to see you too.

"Sorry to interrupt, and to scare you. I just wanted to bring you this," He apologises, moving forward arm outstretched. It's hard to see in the dark shadows of the willow, but you soon realise that he is holding a deliciously oozing cream eclair in his hand. Your rumbling stomach overtakes any sense of decorum at this moment, and you lash out to grab the baked good, sighing in eclair delight as the pastry hits your tongue.

Hansol lets out a chortled laugh at your actions, but doesn't say anything, instead perching next to your chair to look at your array of drawings strewn across the grassy surface.

"Was the faire fun?" You ask between bites, your words slightly slurred by the sheer amount of pastry filling your mouth.

"Yes!" He nods, looking back up at you with wide eyes. "I don't think anything could ever beat the year they had the hot air balloon, but this year there were these steam wagons which were rather cool - not as pretty to look at though."

You hum impressed, finishing off the eclair.

"It was a shame you couldn't come. You would have liked a lot of the stalls - there was a gentleman selling small stained glass pieces, and another woman who made these crazy detailed woven rugs." He adds, eyes sparkling as he recollects all of the wares you'd missed out on.

"Ah, next time, maybe." You sigh, trying to offer him a small smile of gratitude.

"By the way, did you know that Lord Bolton will be coming to visit soon?" Hansol asks, and you don't remember being told this information.

"No, I didn't. Lord Bolton was the man who was courting Harriet last season, right?"

"Yeah, Harriet mentioned he was on his way down at the faire today. The way she mentioned it, I figured she'd forgotten to tell you, but I thought you should know before you get a shock tomorrow morning." He laughs, settling more comfortably onto the lawn, so that his body is propped up by his elbows and his legs rest out into the grass. You have to force yourself to avert your gaze as he looks up at you from his position with a cheesy grin that shows off his teeth and shreds your heart to pieces.

"Didn't the connection fall through? Why is he still coming to visit her?" You ask, frowning as you try to remember the barrage of letters Harriet had written you during your time away. She'd shared with you that a potential match she'd be excited about in a previous letter hadn't worked out, and you'd thought that was the end of it.

"I'm not sure, she didn't seem unhappy about it though. Perhaps they're rekindling?" Hansol replies thoughtfully.

The two of you continue to talk until the purples and blues are replaced by pitch black sky, covered in a cloudy ambience. Hansol tells you about the latest project his sister is working on and offers comfort when you mention your father for the first time since returning to Sandfort. For a short moment, you feel like you never left, and wonder how you managed to pull yourself away from it all the first time. The dull background light coming from the house does nothing but backlight Hansol in a beautiful warm glow, and it makes him look angelic as he basks in the evening darkness.

At least he can't see the blush on your face as he reaches out to wipe a remnant of cream off of the corner of your mouth.

"Oh, you've got some - here, I got it," He says, his hand moving far too quickly towards your face for your liking. Dumbstruck, you feel your heart wither in your chest as his finger makes contact with the crease of your lips and cannot look anywhere other than straight at him in shock. As he wipes away the cream with careful precision, your faces are left meters away from each other, and you see an unreadable expression dawn across his, before he backs up, awkwardly stumbling further than he'd been before.

"Uh, sorry, I think it's all gone now-"

"No, thank you! I-"

"It's getting dark now, I should -"

"You should be getting back."

You both manage to land on the same thought and as Hansol offers you a quick nod and a farewell, you are left alone once again in your willowy hiding spot.

Lord Bolton was not an enjoyable guest.

You appreciate what you realise was Hansol's warning more than he could ever know, as you excuse yourself from the party mere minutes after arriving.

Within the five minutes you've known Lord Bolton, he's already given you his hat as if you are his maid, made an obnoxious joke about Harriet's dress, and used the word 'bemused' wrong twice. The last one is uttered just as you leave the room, and you almost want to stay just to watch the way Rosa's eye twitches at the error.

Finding Joshua in his study on your prolonged rendezvous around the manor, you realise you are not the only one who's escaped that conversation.

"Are you busy?" You ask, leaning into the room with a soft knock against the wooden door.

Josh shakes his head, beaconing you to come in.

"No, just looking through some of the household finances for the last season," He replies, eyes weary at the thought of paperwork.

"Gosh, he's bad enough that you're up here doing taxes?" You laugh, and he joins you, releasing the built-up tension from his frame.

"You didn't have to spend the last year with him and you're already hiding, what can you expect me to do?" He says exacerbated by the memories of his forced proximity to Lord Bolton.

A thought dawns on your mind, one that you'd been too afraid to talk to anyone about so far.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Your fingers twitch in anticipation, and you're struggling to make yourself say the words.

"Of course, anything," Josh replies, a confused look taking over his features. You let out a deep sigh before rehashing the thought that had been plaguing you since your arrival.

"Where's Elizabeth?"

Lady Elizabeth Moteley, daughter of the Marquess of Bath, is the one staple of your childhood who no longer seemed to be here, and not one person has mentioned her since you've gotten home.

You remember the first time you met Elizabeth and her family. You'd walked down the stairs of the Manor to find your aunt and uncle hosting another family you'd never seen before.

"Ah, Lord and Lady Moteley, this is my niece, Y/n." Your uncle introduced you, holding out a guiding arm for you to join the family.

You'd never forgotten the sneering looks on their faces when they'd realised who you were.

"Georgia's daughter?" They'd asked, refusing to even look at you. Your uncle had given them a sharp nod of confirmation, and placed a well-needed steadying hand on your shoulder.

"Y/n's staying with us over the summer."

"How ... generous of you."

"She's growing to be a very adept painter, a real talent in the arts!" Your aunt interjected and you knew the purpose of talking you up was to take the attention away from the fact that everyone there knew about you.

"Ah, perhaps she can draw a portrait of Elizabeth!" Lady Moteley suggested with a straight-lipped smile.

That was when you'd first seen Elizabeth, pushed forward from behind her mother's dress. She was around the same age as you, with long tresses of dark hair, porcelain skin, and pretty eyes. Her dress was pristine pink, with fashionable bows laced at the back peaking through from the sides, and a sapphire necklace sat upon her neck. There was a shyness to her eyes as she looked at you and, for the first time in your life, you felt inferior in every way to the girl who stood before you.

"Elizabeth is staying with the Chwe family over the summer," Your aunt explained to you. At the time, you didn't know why Elizabeth was there, but as the years passed into teenhood and Elizabeth continued to visit Hansol's family in the summer, you soon realised the true intent of her long stays at the Chwe estates.

Elizabeth's friendship with Harriet was cemented from the moment they met. Their similar interests in fashion and London gossip had the two girls hooked at the arms from the start of summer as if they'd been predestined to be together. Your friendship with Elizabeth had not been predictable. The prejudicial way her parents had talked about you the day you'd met had reflected badly on Elizabeth, and you'd spent the first part of the summer trying to avoid her until you'd realised that you were missing out on time with your friends too and begrudgingly rejoined the group.

The turning point came in the middle of the summer when Elizabeth had found you sniffling on the steps to the lake, eyes and nose leaking into the one handkerchief you owned. That morning you'd attempted to style your hair into the braids that the girls so often sported, but your lack of motherly wisdom or helpful maid left the task rather difficult for you. After spending almost an hour crafting something you were happy with, you'd walked down the stairs to join your party only to be met with Harriet's snickering and questioning whether you'd fallen into a bush on your way to the playroom. The embarrassment of the moment after you'd spent so much time on your hair was a startling reminder that you could never truly fit in with the rest of your friends, and your overwhelmed eleven-year-old body had sprinted out of the room just as the tears had started. Elizabeth had found you not too long afterwards and redid your braids with the adornments of some of the small flowers by the side of the lake and the promise to teach you how to do it yourself the next morning.

By the end of that summer, you'd confined in Elizabeth every detail about your life, from the details you knew about your mother, and your annoyances about your cousins, to the small crush you'd begun harbouring on the boy she'd been living with.

When she returned the next year, one year older and a few inches taller than you, hand in hand with her future husband, you felt a level of despair and betrayal unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. You spent the summer watching Hansol kiss her hand and carry her over the puddles of mud that the two of you had played in the day before, and you realised that you could never have what she had. A match made between a Marquess's daughter and the future Duke made perfect sense, and you felt like a fool for not realising it earlier. What hurt the most was that it was a side to Hansol that you'd never seen before, and you thought you knew him to the core, as he did you.

At the time, the childish jealousy that ruined your whole summer had you convinced that Elizabeth had done it on purpose - befriended you so that you would tell her your secret and she could crush your heart. With some perspective, you soon realised the petty motivations of your slanderous thoughts, and had to admit to yourself that her refrainment from telling you about the engagement was more likely meant to spare your feelings than any great ploy to hurt you further. Elizabeth continued to be nothing but kind to you, even writing to you in your first year away, and you still feel bad for the barrage of curses your twelve-year-old self had wished upon her that summer.

You'd decided you had to leave Sandfort the year that the pair of them got formally engaged. It is embarrassing to admit that the push you needed to follow your passions was the trivial heartache of a crush long past its expiration date, but you are glad that you finally cut yourself free and gave yourself the space to find new meaning in your life. You expected to get news of their wedding every year you were been away, but although Hansol was mentioned in Elizabeth's letter to you, there was no suggestion of the actual event occurring.

When you realised you wanted to return, you half expected to come back to Hansol and Elizabeth already married, and that no one had remembered to tell you. Yet, Elizabeth wasn't here, and Hansol had yet to mention her name.

Josh is staring at you with a troubled look, seemingly struggling to word his thoughts to you.

"Elizabeth's still in London at the moment. Her grandmother passed away at the start of the year, and she wanted to stay with her family after the season ended to help sort out the estates."

His mouth closes and you realise this is all the information he's going to give you. Irritation flares in your chest and apparently it is as clear to Josh as it is to you, as he gives you a small shrug in response.

"Still in London ... okay. And is she going to come visit at all this summer?" You prod, hoping to glean some of the knowledge he's clearly hiding from you.

"Um, I guess so? I'm not too sure, you'd have to ask Hansol." Josh replies, and you're stumped at his nonchalant demeanour.

"Right, ask Hansol. You're so helpful." You grumble, giving him a withering look before turning back out of the study. You hear him sigh from behind you, but don't give him the satisfaction of looking back to check as you storm away from him and Lord Bolton's incessant chatter downstairs.

Hansol's back in your studio, and updating you on a message given to him by the priest that morning.

Unlike last time, you are completely dressed for comfort and ease of movement, not expecting to see anyone other than the cook the whole day. Donning a pair of thin, brown trousers, a loose white shirt, and a short apron that tied at the waist and did little to stop the clay from getting on your other clothes, you are an unorthodox, but comfy, picture.

Hansol is looking straight up at the sculptures on the wall as you begin chatting about the latest update to the project, and you think he must have found something particularly intriguing to look at with the intensity with which he's staring at the art.

Your rambles fall off as he has still not said more than a few-word answers, and the room is filled with a stale silence you don't understand.

"Have you sculpted before?" You ask, wondering if the art he was focusing on was inspiring his creativity, and he finally snaps his head around to look at you.

"I'm not sure I'd be much good at it."

"I'm sure that's not true! How can you know if you have never tried?"

His face scrunches up as he thinks about your response, before letting an agreeing nod loose.

It dawns on you that you have a lot of spare clay left over from your work today, and before you realise you quickly find yourself asking if he wants to try it out. You feel your hammering heart calm slightly as he agrees but you are filled with excitement that you get to share your passion with him.

You reach down to pick up the resting clay from your tray on the floor, and looking back up you feel like someone's stabbed you in the chest. Your eyes go cartoonishly wide and you almost choke on your breath as you watch Hansol strip his jacket and waistcoat from his torso and loosen the linen shift from his trousers as to turn it into a makeshift smock.

He looks back at you with a sheepish smile, and you hope to God that your face has returned to a normal expression.

"Don't want Mr Jones's wrath if I get clay stuck into the fibres of the jacket," He explains. The reason makes total logical sense, and yet your head is dizzy with the mental gymnastics your brain is engaging in. Realising that the only cure was to stop looking at him, you turn your attention back to the pottery wheel, trying to set the clay upright without your hands shaking too much.

It's clear Hansol does not know what he's doing, and you don't think your absentminded coaching is helping much. After a few more minutes of gentle guidance and no progress, he drops his dirtied hands from the clay, and scoffs at the misshapen lump sat before him. You're telling him that he's getting the hang of it, but it's not true, and you're struggling to keep the endeared laughter out of your voice as you look at his creation.

But, looking at the clay, you can see the starts of a pot forming, and you think that if he just keeps going he'll be able to create something he's satisfied with.

"Here, let me help you," You say, entranced by the clay. Before he can say anything more, his hands are back on the clay, and yours are covering them, your fingers guiding his in a mesmerising pattern. His hands are softer than you expect, and you imagine that yours are rather rough from the weeks of labour you've put into your work.

You haven't fully realised the proximity you've just created, your mind solely trained on the beautiful vision in your head. You haven't noticed the way your body is pressed against his chair, just far enough that you're not touching his back, or the way your forearms graze against his and you both move in a steady rhythm. 

You don't realise what you've done until you realise that Hansol is no longer moving at all. 

Frozen for a moment, your instinct battles your desire to stay close. You'd broken all boundaries of propriety in the pursuit of art and hadn't thought twice about it.

You leap backwards, fear and panic bulging in your stomach and threatening to make its way into your throat. He's not saying anything and you feel like you're going to vomit if you don't right your wrongdoing.

"I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to get that close -" The words are tumbling out of your mouth faster than you can keep up.

"It's okay. Hey, really, it's okay." He's comforting you, his hands on your forearms to steady you and it's just making you feel worse. You wonder if you're about to flee from your own studio, but the shame of doing so is weighing up slightly higher than your current predicament.

"- why's Elizabeth not staying for the summer?" Your unasked question has slipped from your lips in your frenzied panic, and you feel your heart drop like a stone into your stomach at the realisation of what you've asked and the look that has now dawned on Hansol's face. Your lack of self-control is truly astonishing, and you feel like melting into a puddle to join the clay on your floor.

He doesn't know how to answer you, and you can tell instantly. His eyes are shifting uncomfortably and he keeps opening his mouth slightly and then shutting it again, and you're such an idiot for bringing this up now. Just as you are about to tell him to forget it, that he doesn't have to answer you, he finally starts speaking again.

"Well, she's got some family business to take care of ... so she's stayed in London for a bit longer to do that. Why are you asking?"

You can feel the word vomit start again, and your shame knows no bounds.

"Oh, I was just surprised she wasn't here. I hadn't heard anything about you two whilst I was away and I assumed you'd ... finished your engagement?" You cringe at your inability to talk about marriage in a way that didn't make you sound like a child.

A flash of anger and hurt crosses Hansol's face as he jolts up out of his seat and you know you've pushed too far. 

"You shouldn't speak about things you don't know about."

You are promptly left alone with his words and the sinking pit in your stomach dragging you into spiralling darkness.

You realise that the first dinner party you'd ever attended was a poor imitation of the real thing.

Harriet has spent the last week planning it, and, based on your limited experience, you initially wondered why it was taking so much time, but as you stare at the vast platter of food and drink, the ornate decorations purposely draped around the room, and the string quartet setting up in the corner you finally understand her stress. 

Guests are about to start pouring through the doors, and you're filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension. On one hand, you know that the priest, Reverend Lee, would be in attendance today and you couldn't wait to fill him in on all your plans for the church renovations. It's been almost a month since you started working on the project now, and you moved onto marbles last week after finally plucking up the courage. You think it's been going well, but you'd love to show the Reverend your progress tonight if you get the chance to hear his opinion. His jovial attitude means that you aren't scared of his reaction, but a few nerves still flutter in your stomach at the thought of having your work judged.

On the other hand, you know that Hansol will be coming. You haven't seen him since the pottery incident, and whether it has been you or him avoiding the other is hard to tell. You want to apologise, tell him to ignore your ignorant questioning, but you are scared that bringing it back up will just agitate him more. You haven't plucked up the courage to ask anyone else about it, deciding that it is clearly a personal matter to Hansol and that he should be the one to talk about it when he wants to. But, deep down, you still want to know what is happening with Elizabeth.

The first guests to walk in, escorted by a three-glasses-deep Harriet, are Mr and Mrs Heath, the couple that owns the popular town inn on Cannon Lane, and your nerves are quelled by the sight of other people not in the nobility. Mrs Heath is quick to embrace you, asking about your time away and telling you how much you've grown since she last saw you, as Mr Heath smiles along, nodding but hardly saying a word.

As the other guests arrive, you feel at home chatting with people you've known your whole life and catching up on all that you've missed. Mr and Mrs Heath's daughter went to London for the first time last season and is supposed to be bringing home a mysterious but handsome baker she's met. Lord Tully, an old friend of your grandfather, went abroad to the continent for the first time, and he regales you with stories of high-stakes gambling dens in Paris and the beautiful landscapes of the north. You manage to get an audience with Reverend Lee, who tells you about his son who's set to return to the country soon and agrees to go down to see your work after dinner ends.

Dinner is about to start when Hansol arrives, slightly soggy from the evening shower and carrying an already-opened bottle of champagne. He apologises to Harriet for his tardiness and explains that he got stuck at rehearsal, but had managed to swipe the last bottle, and hopes that the high-quality vintage makes up for it. Even in his damp form, his hair sticking to his forehead, he looks striking and you can hear the Reverend's youngest daughter giggling in delight as he takes a seat next to her at the table. You mentally sigh, realising that you and her are much more alike than she knows.

To your delight, and Harriet's relief, the dinner is spectacular. In all your days at Sandfort, you've eaten many, many delicious meals, but the cooks seem to have gone all out for this one. It reminds you of Christmas time - close friends and family huddled around the table enjoying roasted meats and sauteed vegetables, and it's an atmosphere you wish would never end. By dessert, the topic of conversation has managed to turn to Mr and Mrs Heath's daughter's upcoming nuptials, and you dotingly listen to Mrs Heath retell the story she'd told you at the start of the evening.

"-and his family is from Swansea, if you'll believe it? We've never been but I've heard the beaches are quick joyous. Your Lord Bolton is from Welsh stock, right Miss Harriet?"

Harriet coughs loudly to cover up the fact that she's just choked on a potato.

"Uh, yes! Lord Bolton's family hails from Cardiff, but they've owned an estate in London for a long while now." She answers cordially, flashing a smile at Mrs Heath who seems satisfied at the answer.

"How come Lord Bolton is not joining us tonight? I thought he was up visiting from the city?" Reverend Lee joins, and you can see Harriet's face turning a slightly deeper shade of red as the attention of the table fully turns to her and her prospects.

"He had to return to London for some family business, I'm sure he'll be back to visit Harriet soon," Joshua opts in, rubbing his sister's arm comfortingly and trying to turn the attention away from her.

"Speaking of, will your family be back soon, my Lord?" Mrs Heath is looking at Hansol who hasn't yet noticed that he is being addressed. A moment of silence fills the air before the Reverend's daughter cautiously taps his hand, and his head snaps up to attention to see everyone looking at him. The shocked expression on his face that he struggles to hide is so cute you find a gentle smile has already blossomed on your face.

"Oh, sorry, yes, I think they should be coming back in the next few weeks. My father's just finishing off some business in the city but I think my sister might be a bit bored of all the ribbon shops and florists she's been dragged to by the ladies of society. I'm sure she's looking forward to being back in the country." He hums, taking a large gulp from his cup of water.

"And you, Mr Chwe, we haven't heard of your future plans yet?" Lord Tully asks and Hansol must be expecting the question because his eyes light up as he starts reeling off the details of the play.

"-we've just found someone who's happy to restitch some of the old costumes that are falling apart, and Mr Downey is hoping to get one of those new kaleidoscopes to use in the more mystical scenes! I think it's going to be really great this year." He looks over to the Reverend's daughter, smiling. "You should come, all the young ladies in London know Shakespeare so you ought to start learning soon."

You watch a young girl just about to swoon and pass from excitement at the prospect of Hansol talking to her, and cannot help but see your twelve-year-old self.

"This acting business, are you feeling serious about it? Is it not a bit ....I don't know, beneath you?"

The air in the room stales, and you feel a burst of rage at the words of a Lord you hadn't met, and now hope you never will again. You're eyes are trained on Hansol, who is flicking his spoon around with an emotionless expression on his face, and it hurts even more to see that happiness taken from him.

"Well, I think that giving back to the community can never be a bad thing, can it?" He answers cordially, and you're beyond impressed at his ability to stay pleasant with this Lord.

"Of course, I just think that it strange for a man of your age and station to still be playing pretend when you really ought to be thinking about your family and future."

Hansol is stung by this, and it's slapped across his face.

"Is the pursuit of pleasure and duty not the purpose of modern society, my Lord?" You feel yourself starting to speak, unable to sit and listen to the Lord's drivel any longer. "I rather think that a man able to bring joy to his community is far greater than a man who complains about the choices of others. Perhaps you ought to give it a try, my Lord - I can certainly think of a few roles you may suit."

The silence crawls in again, and you feel your throat close up with every moment that passes, the visceral fear that you've gone far beyond your station seizing you as your heart hammers so loudly that you can hear blood gushing in your ears. 

But then Joshua lets out a barking laugh, muttering something about giving and taking, and the rest of the table is close to follow in an attempt to diffuse the tension in the air. You cannot look back at the Lord, who is surely cursing you out in his head, and the moment you make eye contact with Hansol you wish you hadn't looked at him either. He's staring at you with an expression you wish he'd stop immediately or never stop again. You force yourself to look away, turning to find that, thankfully, the Reverend is telling his own story of being cast as the fool in King Lear as a youth. Relief flushes your body that the Reverend has not taken offence at your outburst as you recognise that your actions could have just lost you your job and any other prospects of working in this town.

The rest of the dinner is fairly uneventful, save for Joshua's attempt to woo the crowd with a well-balanced handstand walk. Hoping to get to the Reverend before he leaves, you slip out into the hallway from which the guests are leaving and almost walk right into Hansol.

"Woah there! You could cause an accident moving at speeds like that!" He teases, nudging you with his elbow.

"I'm so sorry. I really wasn't expecting someone to be standing stationary behind a closed door." You smile innocently, but despite your jesting you find solace in the fact that he's talking to you like normal again.

"I wanted to say -"

"I'm really sorry-"

You both start talking at the same time, and Hansol gestures for you to continue.

"I just wanted to apologise for the other night. It was wrong of me to pry into your business and make you uncomfortable." You apologise, trying to carefully bring too much attention to the topics of either Elizabeth or the pottery as to not make him feel worse about the situation. Although, you have to admit that avoiding talking about the pottery is more for your sake than for his.

"There's no need to apologise. I also wanted to say sorry for getting so riled up. I think I was taken by surprise when you asked the question and I got defensive and took it out on you. It wasn't a fair reaction at all. Can we move on from it?"

You stick out your hand, mimicking the way that you used to end arguments when you were younger, and Hansol lets out a gorgeous laugh, grabbing your hand and shaking it in turn. You ignore the way your fingers itch to interlock with his again as he lets your hand go.

"I also wanted to say thank you for tonight," He smiles softly, checking that the Lord was not in earshot. "I've had people say stuff about the acting before, but never quite so brazenly."

You want to tell him that he's the best actor you've ever seen, and that he shouldn't let the words of one wrong man stop him from following his passions, but you see the Reverend gesturing you to join him from over Hansol's shoulder and realise you can't miss your opportunity to show him your sculptures.

"Well, I have to have the leading man at the top of his game for my first play in half a decade," You settle with, "I have to get going, but I'm really glad you came tonight."

You skip over the Reverend Lee, a hint of a 'you too' shadowing you as you flex your fingers, trying to dissipate the tingling feeling doing wonders on your palms.

Hansol has had lots of time to think about what you said and what Lord Dudley said. He's sat out by the side of the lake, a stormy frown taking over his brow as he tries to organise his thoughts.

Despite your reassurances, he is still left wondering if there is any truth to the Lord's words. Has he really abandoned his duty to his family in order to rejoin the play? He hadn't participated in it for the last two years, busy with business and family, and he wonders if his choice to start up acting again was actually just an excuse not to return to London.

He is at least glad that doing the play has let him see you more. For you to return to town after such a long time and be disappointed when you don't see him on stage is enough motivation to get him reading lines again.

Yet, the fear remains in the back of his mind. He is a proficient musician and an avid reader, but he does not enjoy sports or cards or any of the other hobbies befitting of a gentleman of society, and he wonders if acting is really so far beneath him that it should cause this much scandal. He watched you go off in pursuit of your passions, and he sometimes wishes he could too. It's silly really, for him to sit here and complain about not being able to do what he wants when he, of all people, has had the world given to him on a silver platter, yet his desires to cut loose and follow his dreams are tethered by his duties to his family, his title, and, even if he did not wish to think about it, to Elizabeth.

He must be a brooding mess to anyone looking, Hansol realises as he flicks away the crunched-up grass that is stuck to his palms. The sun is low in the sky now, and the growl of his stomach is clueing him that it's probably almost dinner time. Wiping his hands clean on his trousers, he gets up, ready to head inside.

He is stopped in his tracks by the sight of something bobbing in the lake. On closer inspection, Hansol realises that a small, stone structure is floating closer to him. Sheer delight fills his body as he sees that the structure is, in fact, a small marble lilypad, and he cannot believe that you also remember his quick trip to the bottom of the lake. This time his arms are long enough to reach out and grab the lily, pulling it delicately into his hands. Marvelling at the beauty of the sculpture, Hansol feels the worries of the day washed from his body at the visual reminder of your care.

Hands gently clasping the lilypad, he searches around the edges of the lake for you. Just as he predicts, you are walking towards him from the part of the lake that sits in your family's garden with a huge grin that is making his heart melt. You are wearing a simple dress, yet you look so beautifully at home in nature. As he thinks about your clothing, the memory of you in those trousers enters his mind, and he has to shove the thought away before the blush becomes visible on his face.

"You reached it!" You say, smiling proudly at him. He nods happily, stretching out the lilypad to show you even though he knows that you're the one who'd made it. "I must admit, though, I was rather hoping you might fall in again."

"What an awful thing to say! What if I had fallen in, gotten a chill, and died? Would you still be laughing?" Hansol feigns offence, and you laugh a sound so wonderful that he thinks that he should have fallen in on purpose just to hear it some more.

"You're right, I'm sorry!" You're still laughing, clearly picturing the image of him headfirst in the water. "No, really! I would never wish harm upon you."

"So convincing." He huffs, puffing out his lip and crossing his arms in mock anger. A beat of silence passes, but this time Hansol feels totally at ease. Something about your presence had him feel calm no matter what.

"By the way, it's amazing." He says, taking in all the delicate details of the ornate flower. "I can't believe you've made it look so real."

"Thank you! I thought about painting it to make it even more realistic, but I realised that the paint would just wash off in the lake. But I could paint it properly if you want to keep it?"

"What? Of course I want to keep it! It's by consolation prize!"

Hansol watches your expression drop, and he realises that he's just accidently let on about his sombre afternoon ponderings.

"Are you feeling okay? You looked a little bit down sitting over here, and I thought that maybe this could cheer you up?" Hansol's moved by your care, and he takes a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain his feelings to you.

"It definitely did cheer me up, I feel much better now. I guess I was just deep in my own head." He starts, struggling to let the details free.

"About what that Lord said?" You ask, and he chuckles at the fact that you still don't know Lord Dudley's name.

"Partially, yeah. And also about Elizabeth." He looks up at you, and your brow is crinkled with concern.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

"I want to ... the reason why Elizabeth is still in London is because she had an affair."

You let out a small gasp, a pained expression covering your face and Hansol knows that you are hurt for him. 

"Hansol, I'm so sorry. That must have been awful to find out."

Hansol's heart stops as he hears you say his name. You don't seem to have noticed it, and he prays that you never do notice and revert back to the previous formality.

"I'm okay, really. It was a few years ago, with a married man. I didn't want to break my promise to her so we remained engaged, but her parents found out this season which is why she has stayed in London. I wasn't hurt by it, I mean we both knew that it wasn't a marriage borne from love. I guess it's just hard to see the point now when neither of our hearts are in it."

He's watching your face as he releases the information, hoping that you aren't too overwhelmed. Two years' worth of updates that he never told you, not wanting to ruin the fun you seemed to be having in Edinburgh, squished into a few words. He watches your expression turn from sympathy to shock, and then to confusion. 

"What ... what do you mean neither of your hearts are in it?" You ask slowly, and Hansol blinks, trying to work out how to finally tell you everything he's wanted to tell you for years.

Hansol goes back to the day he realised that he was in love with you.

It is the first summer after you're departure, and Hansol is bored out of his mind. He didn't realise just how dull the summer is without you here, and nothing is cheering him up in the way it used to.

That morning he goes out to the lake to catch frogs, but he soon realises that not even that is any fun without you. Giving up on his frog-catching plans, he grumbles back over to the lawn chairs behind the back of the house, pulling out the book that you'd recommended to him. Caught up in the torrid affairs and melodramatic scenes of the book, he doesn't realise the time passing until he hears loud voices move into the dining room situated next to his hiding spot.

"-glad the girl is gone." Listening in, he recognises the voices of Elizabeth and her mother, who'd come to stay for the first part of the summer. Lady Moteley not liking someone? How novel.

"They weren't together, mama - I'm sure of it!" Elizabeth responds, and Hansol's interest is a little piqued at the direction of the conversation.

"Please, Elizabeth. Trust me," Lady Moteley sighs, "The way that he was looking at her last summer - I've seen it a million times in the eyes of men gazing at their mistresses on stage at the opera. It's very normal for a young man to want to explore his physicality before marriage, especially with a lower-class woman; it's just a shame that she lived right next door."

Were they talking about you and him!? Hansol's back jumps rigidly in his chair, shocked at the revelation. He knows that you and he have never been together, but the confidence with which Lady Moteley is speaking is making him question his own memory.

"I really don't think they've been together in that way, mama." Finally some truth from Elizabeth. "But I do know that there was ... love? When we were younger?"

Hansol completely blanks out the rest of the conversation as his mind zeros in on that word. Did Elizabeth think that he was in love with you? No, you were his best friend. Of course he liked spending time with you and wanted to know everything about you - that's just what best friends did!

Hansol's head is spinning and his thoughts are racing too fast for him to comprehend. Soon, he's running into the house on a mission to get answers. Arriving at his parent's bedroom, he taps on the door and hears his mother beckoning him inside.

"Hansol, honey! Are you alright?" She's talking to him and he can hardly think straight at all.

"Yes, I'm fine! Can I ask you a question?" He asks hurriedly and she gives him the go-ahead. "What is love?"

His mother lets out a little laugh at the question, and he can't help but feel a little silly standing here asking his mother what love is at the ripe age of 18.

"Well, honey, I think lots of people experience love differently," His mother notes the dissatisfied look slapped onto his face. "But, if I were to answer for myself, I would say that love is waking up feeling happy that your person is waiting right next to you, and mourning their loss when they go away. It's feeling like you can tell them everything and wanting to, and in return wanting to know every little thing about them, good or bad. It's feeling safest in their presence beyond all other measure. And, I suppose, there are a few other considerations for most people - usually you might get a certain feeling when you look at that person, or perhaps you might feel a bit nervous around them?"

Hansol is creating a checklist in his mind, and the answers are not looking in his favour.

"Honey, is this about Elizabeth? I know you might be a bit anxious that you're not feeling anything yet, but there's still lots of time for love to blossom. And, many successful, fulfilling partnerships are built on different foundations than love."

Hansol is nodding along, but his mind is squarely set on one thing. Thanking his mother, he bursts out of the room trying to find a quiet space to organise his thoughts.

If he did love you, he could not pinpoint when that love could have started. He'd always enjoyed hanging out with you the most, always wanted to look after you and of course he missed you deeply now that you were one. And, sure, if you'd asked him as a child who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, he'd have said you - oh god, he is in love with you.

He's in love with you, and he may have always been.

You're looking up at him, face scrunched up in confusion and apprehension, when Hansol realises that he still has not replied to your question.

"I - you don't know?" The sentence comes out as a question even though he already knows the answer. But you're still shaking your head and he's still trying to work out how he's going to tell you this.

"Well, I suppose, like Elizabeth, my heart is ... already spoken for." He breathes, his voice as quiet as he can manage as to not spook you away. He's struggling to meet your eyes, but he's hoping the unspoken implications are enough to clue you into what he's thinking.

You take a step closer, and he feels light-headed.

"You're in love with someone else?" You whisper, trying desperately to understand his meaning. Your eyes are shining brightly, and your lips are slightly parted in confusion, and his gaze keeps moving between the two of them. The tension in the air is so thick he thinks he's going to be sick.

"Y/n..." Hansol murmers, unable to say anything more. You're clearly taken aback by the use of your name, but this is quickly overtaken by the dawning realisation of its implication. He's trying to desperately restrain himself from moving towards you, but all he wants is to touch you, hold you, and draw you closer to him.

He follows your eyes move from his eyes to his lips and then back up again. As you step closer once again, the tether holding back his unravelling mind is snapped and he moves forward, grabbing your arm gently and pulling you close, the other arm travelling around you to the small of your back. Your faces are so close to each other now, and he can feel the warmth of your breath on his lips and it is intoxicating.

He's looking for any sign to keep going or to stop, but you are frozen still and the seconds pass by like hours, until you give him a small nod and his lips are pressed against yours with no hesitation. Your lips are softer than he's expecting, and he hopes that his inexperience isn't ruining it for you, but then you sigh and melt into his arms, and all other considerations fly out of the window. You're kissing him back, and he could never have imagined how good it would feel as you run your hands through his hair.

A few moments pass and he's forced to break away from you, gasping for breath and cursing his inexperience. You are looking at him with impossibly round eyes and swollen lips, and he's quite sure it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Then, he's reaching back out to you and -

"Hansol!" A loud yell tears through the backyard, and you both jump back in shock. His eyes shoot wide open as you step back, clearly taken aback by the interruption.

"Hansol, I know you can hear me!" His brain is playing catch up when he recognises that the voice is his mother's, meaning that his family has just returned from London. "You'll never guess who's here to see you!"

Elizabeth is here and so too, unfortunately, are her parents.

Hansol feels bad that he's being so miserable, but Elizabeth's matching scowl suggests that she has a lot more to worry about than his brooding.

For the last two days, he has been forced to give the Moteley's a tour of the town they'd known for over a decade, entertain them at breakfast, lunch and dinner, and not once has he had the chance to find you and explain what is happening. Ditching you after confessing his love and kissing you was not at all a part of his plan, and he hasn't even been able to hear you talk about your own feelings. He can't even imagine how you are feeling right now.

Hansol and Elizabeth are walking along an uneven path in the woods on the outskirts of town, able to have their first conversation alone since Elizabeth's arrival at the house. She's clearly just as miserable as he is, and Hansol feels bad that he hasn't checked in with her yet.

"How are you doing? I hope your parents aren't giving you too much trouble..." He trails off at the pointed look Elizabeth gives him.

"I wish. I really thought that it was worse to have the constant questioning of why we aren't married, but I was so wrong. It's so much worse now." She sighs, and Hansol feels his heart drop for her.

It wasn't Elizabeth's fault for falling in love with someone else, and he knows that he is actually just her parent's punishment of choice.

"My parents have been asking about it too. Apparently, the Ton is all in a tizzy about a three-year engagement period." He adds, rolling his eyes. He's not sure that this is comforting but, at least, he hopes that Elizabeth knows that he understands how she feels.

"It would have been so much easier if we'd just gotten married when we were engaged, then none of this would have happened!" She huffs, and Hansol gloomily wonders if he'd have ever worked out his feelings for you if they hadn't waited to get married.

"I'm sure there's a solution..." He tries to reassure her, but even he is struggling to see a way out of this one that ends up with everyone happy.

"Hansol," Elizabeth has stopped walking and is now holding onto his hands, a desperate look on her face. "My parents are not happy about the affair, at all. They've threatened to kick me out if I'm not married by next summer. Please," Oh, shit. "You once told me that it didn't matter to you, please tell me that you meant it."

Hansol feels his whole world melting away. He's finally managed to confess his feelings to you, but how could he break his promise and condemn someone to destitution just for his own selfish desires? There is truly no right choice in this situation.

"I did mean it," He sighs deeply, wondering if he's about to make the biggest mistake of his life. "I won't let them do that to you."

You feel like you're twelve again, watching Elizabeth get everything you've ever dreamed of.

The emotions of your kiss with Hansol have yet to wear off, but now they are tangled with despair, anger and heartbreak as you watch from the sidelines as they stand there, hand-in-hand, happily announcing the date of their wedding. For two people with no heart in it, they are holding each other painfully close.

How could you ever believe that you could compete with Elizabeth? Perhaps she'd been moved to the back of Hansol's mind whilst she was away, but now she's back and Hansol's priorities are crystal clear to you.

No one is looking at you, least of all Hansol, and you're glad. No matter how hard you try, you know all of your emotions are splattered across your face - your brow in a permanent scowl, lips pinched together, and a dangerous level of pain in your eyes. You are surrounded by people cheering and smiling, and every time you hear the clap of hands together, you feel it like a bullet through your chest.

The announcement is ending, and you are the first to leave, practically sprinting to get away from this place. You don't know where you're going, but you do know that you cannot be around anyone right now. Streaking away from your neighbourhood and towards the grassy outskirts on the edge of town, you hear your name being called behind you and you ignore it.

"Y/n!" The familiar voice calls. "Y/n, please, wait!" It's getting closer and you curse your flimsy shoes and long skirts for stopping you from running. You feel fury blazing across your body, and you cannot believe that he feels entitled to say your name right now.

"What?!" You spit, spinning on the spot to see Hansol chasing after you, a few feet behind. His face is pale and he is breathing heavily from running after you.

"Please, can we talk about this? I'm so sorry-"

"You want to talk about this? I hate to break it to you but you're about 72 hours too late for that." The scorn is dripping in your voice as you cannot contain your hurt anymore, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "Are you going to tell me that you made a mistake? You've loved Elizabeth this whole time? Or do you want me to be your commoner mistress to ease the pain of your loveless marriage? Because I don't want to hear it!"

Hansol's mouth is opening to try and explain, but he closes it again as he seems paralyzed by your words.

"I sincerely hope that you are happy together, my Lord." He does not get the chance to speak as you're already gone, racing into the vast fields ahead of you. You feel like your breath has been captured and taken away from you as you wheeze for air, tears flurrying down your face. You wish he would just leave you alone, go off and be happy with Elizabeth and never look back to you. It would hurt less than him trying to have both.

You barricade yourself into your studio for the next two weeks.

You know your cousins know something's wrong now - Rosa keeps looking at you pitifully, Josh won't stop visiting you as you work, and Harriet straight up asks you what is going on. You can't bring yourself to explain the situation to them, not wanting to rehash the memory and, despite everything, not wanting to bring shame to Hansol.

At the very least, you think that your art is the best it's ever been - hours and hours of dedication poured into the marble sculptures that take a form you could previously have only dreamed of. The deadline is creeping up on you, but thanks to your recent hiatus on normal life, you think you'll actually be able to finish everything in time.

You don't know if Hansol has tried to see you again - as far as you are aware he hasn't, and none of your cousins have suggested anything otherwise. Half of you is filled with relief that you don't have to see him and that he actually listened to you, but the other half cannot help but miss him desperately. You curse your rotten mind for being so fickle after what he's done to you, and it is almost amusing how much more you miss him now than you did for the three years you were away.

You've spent more than a few nights up throughout the slumbering hours, finding more solace in your work than you can in your sleep. Every time your head is forced to hit the pillow, your dreams are filled with him, that night by the lake, and what your future could have been like if Elizabeth never came to visit all those years ago.

With a deep sigh, you attempt to clear your head. The Reverend is coming later in the day to check on your progress and start moving statues over to the church if all is deemed successful. You need to focus.

You manage to whittle away the next few hours making minor adjustments to your already completed statues. Looking them over once more, you can't help but feel a proud sting in your chest. Despite your life seemingly falling apart before your eyes, you truly have done something you weren't sure you were capable of. Your studio is so full that you've had to start moving some of the small items into your personal room, and it truly did look like a museum. The only thing left for you to do now is to work on the marble that had already been attached to the church, and you feel sorrowful knowing your project is nearly over.

Soon, the Reverend and a few of the townsfolk are at your door, happily signing off on the statues and beginning the preparations to have them moved. Knowing you wouldn't see the statues again only the unveiling of the church at the end of the month, you are finding it surprisingly difficult to part with them. The elegant faces have been your sole companions in your misery and losing them feels like losing a friend.

"Wow, I can't believe you're almost finished ... the room feels so empty now." You startle at Josh's voice behind you. Somehow he's sneaked into your studio without you noticing, and is cradling one of the small proto-type models that you get to keep.

"I know," You smile softly. "Cousin, I - I need to tell you something."

Josh's eyes flash in confusion before a look of understanding dawns on his face.

"Ah. I think I might know -"

"I'm leaving."

Josh jumps, eyebrows raising in surprise. You've caught him off guard and it isn't nice to see his usually so confident demeanour turn downcast.

"Oh! That wasn't what I was expecting..." He starts, giving you a pouty look. "You're totally convinced?"

You nod, sighing gently as you pour over your decision in your head.

"I think it's the right thing for me right now. Once I've finished the project, I have nothing tying me here, and I'll have enough saved up to get my own place, so I won't be scrimping off of you anymore." You try to smile reassuringly, but it falters quickly at the sorrowful expression on your cousin's face.

"This is your home too, you know that right?" He refutes, and you can't help but be moved by his attempts to dissuade you.

"I know, I do. I just think it's time for something new." 

"Is this about Han-"

"I can't talk about that, Josh." You interject, your heart aching in your chest. You feel your breathing getting more laboured as you are confronted with the truth that your cousin knows. You must admit that it would have been strange for them not to notice your languishing at all, but you didn't realise just how obvious your feelings must have been.

Josh moves forward, grasping your hands.

"I don't know what happened between you two, or what is happening now with Elizabeth, but I do know that you have been miserable since the wedding announcement. All I want is to see my cousin happy, and if that means leaving all of this behind, I understand. I just wish I could do more to help you."

You feel tears prodding the corners of your eyes at Josh's sincerity. You know you cannot tell him any more details, afraid of ruining his relationship with Hansol and causing more issues, but you're beyond grateful for his support.

"Josh, I -" You're taking deep breaths, trying to calm yourself before you let the emotions of the entire situation get a hold of you. "I don't know if I can be happy here."

He nods, reaching forward with a handkerchief to wipe the tears away from your cheek.

"Okay, you have to promise to keep in touch though. And visit regularly?"

"I will, I promise."

Hansol hasn't slept for two weeks.

Nights tossing and turning turn into at most a few hours of slumber, but he is constantly plagued by his own decision and the burned-in memory of the tears falling down your face.

Elizabeth seems happier now - she's smiling more and engaging in family activities, but Hansol can tell that something is still troubling her as well. He still hasn't told her about what happened with you, not wanting to add any more stress to the situation. But, without the ability to tell her, or his closest friend, Hansol feels like he's drowning in the thoughts all by himself.

Everything feels like a puzzle he is not smart enough to solve, taunting him as jagged sides refuse to fit together and allow him the clarity to sort through his feelings.

His acting has completely fallen apart. With his heart not in it his lines feel flat and his movements stale, and he can see the concern in Mr Downey's eyes getting larger with each failed rehearsal.

Hoping that another walk will this time give him some coherence of thought, he sets off into town. His mother asked him to grab a few suppliers for her this morning, and its a good excuse to get out of that house and away from Elizabeth's parents. They've been nothing but overbearing since the announcement, constantly asking for more updates, pushing for a quicker wedding, and Lady Moteley had even asked a painful question about whether or not you would be making the guest list. Hansol knows her implication was for you to not be included, and was grateful that Elizabeth quickly shut that down. Not that he thinks you'll come, or knows what he'll do if you do.

A hand appears in front of his chest, forcing him to screech to a halt in the middle of West Avenue.

"Hey, are you alright?" It's Josh, and he's giving Hansol a confused look. Hansol realises that he's been walking completely consumed by his own thoughts, and hadn't noticed his friend walking up to him at all.

"Um, yeah, sorry! I didn't see you there."

"Right, are you heading to the shops?"

"Yeah, are you going that way too?" Hansol asks, not opposed to some company to keep him out of his own head.

"Kind of, I'll accompany you if that's suitable?" Josh smiles, but Hansol sees something spark across his expression that he doesn't recognise.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Hansol says as the pair start to walk towards the town centre. Josh hums in agreement, nodding his head with a rueful laugh.

"I suppose you must have been busy with wedding preparations?" Josh says with a teasing smile, poking his side.

"Uh, yeah, I suppose so." Hansol responds, feeling his mood shift and wincing at his inability to cover it. Josh is looking over at him, and with a long sigh pats Hansol's shoulder comfortingly.

"There's something I think you should know."

Hansol stills at the seriousness of Josh's tone.

"I feel like you're about to tell me you've only got three days left to live." He jokes, trying to lighten the mood and feeling instantly worse when Josh doesn't respond in turn.

"Hansol..." Josh exhales, and for a moment Hansol wonders if he'd accidentally stumbled onto a horrifying truth. "(Y/n)'s leaving again."

Hansol feels his entire body stop, unable to function in response to the new information. His brain has positively short-circuited and he can't form a coherent thought, let alone sentence, to respond to his friend. But Josh is staring at him with a cautious yet sorrowful look, and all he wants to do is understand.

"What do you mean leaving? Like, on holiday? For a year? Forever?!" He splutters, his brain switching into hyperspeed as he tries to make sense of the situation. "Leaving where? Back to Edinburgh? -"

"Hey, calm down." Josh is holding his shoulders still and Hansol doesn't realise he'd been bobbing about with distress, and he's thankful for Josh's intervention because he doesn't think he would have stopped talking otherwise.

"I don't know all the details, but I think she wants to leave for at least a little while. She's going to wait until the end of summer whilst she's finding a place to live, but then she'll be gone." Josh explains and none of it is making Hansol feel better.

"Oh god, this is my fault." He laments. "I pushed her away and I'll never see her again."

As Josh comforts him, Hansol only feels worse for making his friend console him for driving his own cousin away. Josh has every right to be mad with him right now, and Hansol supposes the only explanation is that you must not have fully explained the situation to him.

Eyes wide and stammering, he backs up, feeling even more sick than before.

"I - I have to go. Thank you for telling me. I just - I" Hansol isn't able to finish his thought before he is running back to his home, leaving a baffled Joshua behind him.

"Woah! What is going on with you?"

Elizabeth has found him crashed on the sofa in the seldom-used study in the left wing of the house. Letting out a long groan, Hansol cannot even begin to explain himself.

"Seriously, this is worrying." She stands up to close the door before returning to his side, a gentle hand placed on his arm. "You can tell me."

Sitting up, Hansol looks at Elizabeth's concerned face and supposes that she couldn't really be mad about this.

"I - I've messed it all up." He starts, his voice shaky. Elizabeth frowns, leaning forward to prompt him to keep talking.

"I didn't know that you'd be coming back and (Y/n) came back at the start of the summer and I just completely wiped the engagement from my mind. I thought that it would all work out and you could find someone else, but I made a promise that I have to stick through. But, instead of hiding my feelings like I should have done, I got caught up in the moment and confessed my love and now I've ended up hurting the woman I love and making myself an entirely unpleasant husband to you."

Hansol is blurting it all out, the relief of finally unloading his feelings washing over him.

Elizabeth looks shocked, and Hansol feels bad that he didn't keep her updated about any of this until now.

"You love (Y/n)?"

It's Hansol's turn to be shocked. 

"What do you mean? You know I love her. I overheard you and your mother talking a few years ago and you said that there was love between us?"

"What? No, I knew that she loved you, not that you loved her! Hansol, she told me when we were children, you have never breathed a word of any feelings to me before?" Elizabeth exclaims, backing away from him in confusion.

All this time Hansol thought she knew, thought that was the reason she felt she could tell him about her affair. The reason he realised he loved you - he'd completely misread the situation.

He's expecting her to lash out, even if it would be unfair. He's made a promise to her and now brought his own feelings into the picture, and it's complicating the situation even more so she would have a right to be mad at him. The pained expression on her face suggests that she is feeling the same too.

"Hansol, does she love you too?" She breaths.

"I - I don't know for sure. But there was a kiss..." He feels guilty saying it, and cannot bear to see Elizabeth's expression.

"Oh god," Elizabeth whispers, and he's certain that he's managed to mess things up even more. "Hansol, you cannot marry me."

Huh. 

What?

Hansol blinks in confusion; this is not what he was expecting Elizabeth to say.

"If I'd have known that you love her I would never have asked you to marry me! I thought it was an unrequited crush on her part, but now that I know that you love her too, I cannot stand between you!" She exclaims.

"But, what will you do? How could I condemn you to destitution?"

"Hansol, two years ago you promised me that you would marry me anyways after I admitted that I had an affair. You gave me the chance to experience my happiness and come back to you afterwards. You have to let me do the same. My love was doomed from the start, but yours isn't, and I refuse to be the person to standing in the way." Elizabeth grasps his hand. "I'll be okay, I promise. Let me repay you for the kindness you showed me."

Hansol's head is a spinning mess, but he knows the one thing he needs to do now.

You are unconvinced that you should be attending the summer show at the Solaris, but your cousins seem resolute in dragging you there against your will.

The outside of the grand theatre has been covered with whimsical ivy branches, colourful flowers, and mystical cut-out sprites. As you enter through billowing chiffon curtains, you feel like you are entering into the fairy world. The theatre is lit by candles, and the warm light is bouncing off of the maze of mirrors which are tied to the side walls. The stage is already set with a full forest scene, log stumps brought in to represent trees and a beautifully painted backdrop picturing the magical landscape. Crafted toadstools and grass little the floor, and to the righthand side you see a second panel with the drawings of a castle courtyard ready to be wheeled in for the correct scenes.

Taking your seat, you cannot help but wonder if you still have time to make an escape. Looking to the exit, you see Rosa giving you an unimpressed glance and quickly put to rest those ideas. You're emotions are already flaring at the thought of seeing Hansol again, but you hope that in the dim light of the audience he won't be able to find you. You are at least grateful that you're cousins aren't able to get front row seats.

All too quickly, the narrator is on the stage and the chattering is hushed as the play begins.

You see Hansol seconds before he gets onto stage, his nervous shaking quickly morphing into a confident strut as he bursts to life. He's even better than you remember, hitting the emotional and comedic beats perfectly as the audience melts into his palms. You are slightly in awe watching, and you can't believe that he ever had thoughts about quitting.

As the play continues, you find yourself slowly being transported away from your own thoughts and into the fantasy world in front of you. Mr Downey has done an excellent job, you have to admit, and the actors are giving their all to their roles.

The play is drawing into the fourth act as you feel Hansol's eyes find you.

        "My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth,         Of this their purpose hither to this wood;         And I in fury hither follow'd them,         Fair Helena in fancy following me."

His monologue begins, and you are bewitched, trapped under his intense gaze. He is clutching a string clasped around his neck tightly, his other arm reaching into the audience. 

        "But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,—         But by some power it is,—my love to Hermia,         Melted as the snow, seems to me now         As the remembrance of an idle gaud         Which in my childhood I did dote upon;         And all the faith, the virtue of my heart,         The object and the pleasure of mine eye,         Is only Helena."

Your heart is racing and you feel as if Hansol is speaking to you directly. The life drains from your face as he releases the necklace, revealing the marble lily you made him attached to the end of it.

        "To her, my lord,         Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia:         But, like in sickness, did I loathe this food;         But, as in health, come to my natural taste,"

Hansol's brow is drawn together, his eyes full of emotion as he speaks. You feel as if he is pleading the words to the audience, to you.

        "Now I do wish it, love it, long for it,         And will for evermore be true to it."

Hansol's eyes have not left yours as he speaks his monologue, begging you to understand his meaning. He knows a great declaration won't make up for the hurt he's caused, but he hopes, at the least, that you know how much he loves you. 

Tears are blurring his vision, but he's almost certain you are crying too, a soft, emotional look capturing your features.

He's moving off of the stage, finished with the scene, but still trying to maintain eye contact with you. Your warm gaze follows him off of the stage until you are physically blocked from view, and he releases his breath, not realising that he'd been holding it since he'd finished his lines.

Hansol struggles to remember the rest of his lines as the show draws to a close. His mind is solely transfixed on you, and he half expects you to walk out, but you stay, you laugh, and you cheer as they bow to the audience.

The applause goes on for much longer than Hansol wants, and even as it subsides, he's being dragged away from the one place he wants to be.

"-thank everyone tonight, you really gave it everything! I've got a few special bottles-" "-staying a enjoy, celebrate together-"

He's tuning in and out of the conversation, trying to think of a way out before deciding he can worry about explanations later. Sprinting out of the backstage area, and leaving a fair few puzzled faces behind him, Hansol prays that you haven't left with your cousins yet.

He thanks the heavens above as he spots you waiting alone at the side theatre door, swaying nervously and fighting with your dress. After two weeks of not seeing you, he's taken aback by how beautiful you look all dressed up for the performance. This is the first social event he's seen you at this summer, and he promises to himself that he must bring you to as many as he can if you give him the chance.

Rushing over to you, he signals for the two of you to slip into the alleyway next to the theatre.

"That was really -"

"Did you enjoy-"

You both start at the same time, and Hansol wants nothing more than to hear your voice as he signals for you to continue.

"The performance was really amazing," You start softly, gazing at him in a way that has his stomach in shambles. "You were really amazing."

"I'm glad you thought so." He says, forcing himself not to just break down immediately.

"That speech -"

"I meant every word of it." Hansol states firmly, resolute to make you understand. Your eyebrows furrow into a sincere expression.

"But ... Elizabeth?" You ask, pained at the mention of his former fiancee.

"We broke off the engagement. Or, well, she broke off the engagement when I told her that I am in love with you."

You breathe in sharply, taken aback by his words. You are struggling to believe what you are hearing, crushed by the overwhelming weight of the confusion, surprise, and yearning that has overtaken your body.

"-I was so caught up in keeping promises and doing my duty, I did the last thing I'd ever wanted to do - I hurt you, I pushed you away and I made you feel like you weren't deserving of my love when, really, I'm the one who needs to prove myself to you.-" 

Hansol is looking at you with so much sincerity and love you wonder how you ever missed the emotion in his eyes.

"-But I need you to know," He steps forward, clasping your hands in his, "that I have loved you for as long as I have known you. And if you'll have me, I'd like to love you for the rest of my life."

You move your hand up to his face, feeling his breath hitch as you run your fingers along his cheek. Your already tear-stained cheeks are wetted again at his words and the hauntingly lovestruck look he's giving you.

"I love you," You breathe, unable to speak louder than a whisper. "I've always loved you. I think everyone knew it, and I could never understand how you didn't know it too."

The air lightens as you both let out a small laugh, your mutual blindness to each other's feelings becoming amusingly clear.

"But," The atmosphere darkens as your thoughts turn stormy. "Hansol, you can't be with me. I am a commoner, a result of scandal at that, and you are to be Duke. It would never be accepted-"

"I don't care." Hansol's fingers are wiping the tears from your cheeks. "I couldn't care less about that people might think. We'll run away, go to Edinburgh or explore the world. Time will tide society's ire, but I'm not willing to waste another second without you."

You let out a choked sob-laugh, completely overwhelmed.

"You're right," You manage to mumble, a smile blossoming on your face. "I'm tired of living for other people."

He nods encouragingly and it takes everything not to pull his face into yours.

"I just want you." You breathe, and Hansol's lips are on yours. Your arms wrap around his neck, and you feel like the heavens themselves have blessed you. All of your built-up feelings, a decade's worth of love, you pour into his lips. In turn, Hansol is pulling you into him, hands framing your jaw as he tries to get even closer to you.

You pull away, gasping for breath and looking up into Hansol's eyes. He rests his forehead against your and takes his hands away from your face to grab your hands again. 

"I'm going to marry you," He pants, and the statement causes your heart to completely wither away in happiness.

You angle his chin so that he meets your gaze as you beam up at him.

"Just don't take three years to do it."

The ceremony was simple and intimate.

Of course, you didn't want to attract too much of society's attention, but, more than that, neither of you cared to have anyone other than your closest friends and family with you on your happy occasion.

You'd cried the moment you stepped into the church you'd helped create, and you were sure that you heard Hansol weeping alongside you.

Surrounded by your cousins, Hansol's family, Elizabeth, and your closest friends from the town, the two of you promised your hearts to one another in a promise you knew you wouldn't break.

"Come on! Just quickly-" You're dragging Hansol away from the party into the ground floor of the manor. Your friends and family are sure to notice your absence immediately, but you hope that they give you the grace you leave the party this once.

"We're meant to be leaving soon! They're going to start the Honeymoon without us!"

You giggle at Hansol's ludicrous suggestion and the sincere expression on his face.

"I promise it'll be quick! I just want to show you something!"

Running into your almost empty studio, you push Hansol to turn on the corner lamp as you swing the door shut behind you.

"Okay, show me."

Grabbing his arm, you lead your husband over to your easel, one of the only pieces of furniture left in the room and cover his eyes with your hands.

"Close your eyes," You say, releasing one of your hands to swivel the canvas around so that it is facing the pair of you. "Okay, now you can look!"

You hear Hansol's breath hitch as he takes in the painting in front of him. Studying his face for all emotion, you feel a rush of pride for your work as a joyful laugh breaks across his features. Looking around at you, then back at the painting, and then back around again, Hansol's hands find your face in gleeful amazement.

"When did you do this?" 

You look back over at your painting. It was incomplete, but a clear depiction of Hansol, dressed in white bell-sleeved shirt and dark trousers as he captured the stage completely. The image of him, completely overtaken in the role, had never left your mind and you wanted to create something that captured that aura. A painting that would show him what you see when he's on stage, and why he should continue to follow his passions.

"This week, I wanted to give it to you as a wedding present." You smile up at him, stroking his hair back from his face.

"Wow, this is unbelievable. I thought you were a sculptor?!"

"I am," You giggle, "But I didn't forget how to paint when I specialised my craft."

Hansol lets out a disbelieving sigh, shaking his head in awe.

"What about this bit? Are you going to take it with us and finish it on the Honeymoon?"

"Well, I was actually hoping that I could finish it now?" You ask, batting your eyelashes in mock pleading. 

"What? Now?" His mouth drops open in shock, and you think it might be the cutest thing you've ever seen.

"It won't take long! I just need to see your face properly to finish all the details."

Before he can even agree, you are dragging him over to the chair in front of the easel. 

"Wait! Wait!" He interjects, and for a moment you think he's going to tell you that you won't have time. But then, he's removing his jacket and waistcoat. "If we're doing this I should at least match the clothing."

You are filled with glee as you move back around to your canvas, peering your head to the side to watch your husband pose his head and torso just as you had painted it.

Picking up your brush, you go to start painting until you notice his collar is tucked the wrong way. Moving back over to him as he gives you a confused look, you playfully brush the hair from his face and slip your hand into his shirt, moving the collar back out.

You forget to breathe completely as his hands come straight up to your waist, holding you in position above him. Unable to break your eyes away from his, you begin to slip your hand further into his shirt. You can feel his heartbeat pick up speed as your hand rests over his chest. 

A beat passes where neither of you move, and then Hansol is pulling you down onto his lap, his hands gripping your waist for dear life as your lips crash together. This kiss is rougher than the other ones, your mouths moving against one another as if it's the last thing you'll ever do. Your hands curl into his hair, and he groans a deep sigh that sets off a deep ache in your body.

"I can't believe you're mine..." He breaks away, looking deeply into your eyes with a sense of urgency you can only match.

"And you're mine." You grin, pressing a quick peck against his forehead.

Hansol is looking at you in a way that's making you blush, and you feel completely naked under his gaze. He knows you to your core, and that deep vulnerability is making you flustered.

Moving your hands back to his shirt, your fingers hover over the buttons, looking at him for confirmation.

"Here?" He pants, a quizzical brow raised.

"Why not?" You shrug, and you guess it's enough for him as he chuckles, nodding and pulling your hands onto the buttons. 

Slowly, you undo them one by one, taking care not to go too quickly. His breathing is getting progressively more laboured as you making your way further down his torso, revealing more and more of his skin. As you push the shift from his shoulders, you can't help but take a moment to take in the sight before you. 

It's your turn to squirm as Hansol reaches forward, slowly pushing the shoulders of your wedding gown off as he maintains eye contact with you. You shudder under the intensity of his gaze and the cold air nipping against your skin, and can't help but feel grateful when his eyes dart away to look at your exposed skin. He's looking back at you for confirmation, and as you nod, he pushes the dress further down, exposing your chest completely to him. 

A content sigh leaves his mouth as he comes face to face with your chest, a look of pure heaven on his face.

"God, you're so beautiful." He breathes and your face is flushed in embarrassment at the attention. Reaching forward, his hand ghosts over your breast as he presses small kisses against your neck. Arching your body into his gives him the courage to touch you fully, cupping your breast in his hand and testing his grip on the soft flesh. You let out a happy hum as he rolls his fingers over your nipple and you swear you hear him curse to himself.

Moving your hands to his chest, you allow yourself to sink fully into the feeling. His hands on you and yours on him, mutually exploring each other's bodies for the first time. Wet, hot kisses have you both gasping for air. Experimentally, you roll your hips down into his and his head snaps up to look at you, mouth hanging open in surprise.

"Wait, just so you know - I haven't done this before." He's blushing, and you're surprised at the information. It is fairly standard for men of the nobility to have experience before marriage, and Hansol's choice not to is rather unorthodox.

"That's okay!" Your head hangs as you look away from him, fear spiking at what you're about to tell him. "I have - once. I know I should have told you sooner, and I completely understand if you want to stop now but-"

Hansol's hands are on your face, pushing your chin up so that you're forced to look at him.

"Hey, it's okay." He reassures, rubbing small circles into your jaw. "I'm not judging you. Honestly, I'm a little jealous but also a little glad that one of us knows how this works?"

You release a relieved laugh and wonder if you could possibly love this man any more.

"Let me show you?" You ask, and you see him swallow a lump in his throat as he nods.

Gently placing his hands back onto your waist, you capture Hansol's lips back into a sweet kiss. You gently begin rolling your hips into his, taken over by a wash of pleasure that he is clearly also feeling. His hands grasp onto you, pushing your hips down into a steady rhythm.

Soon, you're grabbing his hand, and slowly leading into under the skirts of your dress. He grasps onto your thigh and you sigh happily at the contact. His roams begin to roam down and then back up your leg, traversing the new territory.

"Wait, I - I want to see you." He stops moving his hand and you can do nothing but oblige. A small whine leaves his throat as you push yourself off of his lap, but then you're pushing the rest of your dress down past your hips until you're completely exposed to him, and you're not sure if Hansol is breathing at all anymore. 

"Is that - I mean, am I-" You're interrupted as Hansol stands up, pulling you back into him. 

"Don't you dare even ask." He scolds, pushing the hair out of your face. "You're exquisite, I genuinely can't believe I'm allowed to see you like this."

Feeling your whole body warm up with the praise, you nod hoping your speechlessness is not preventing him from knowing that you feel the same.

"May I?" You ask, looking down at the rest of his clothes.

"Please," He breathes. Your lips attach to his neck and he's gasping breathily. Your hands travel down his torso, taking your time to feel as much of the smooth skin as you can. Reaching for the buttons of his trousers, you gently undo the garment, pushing them from his hips and to the floor. His drawers are next to go, and you feel yourself clenching your legs as you take him all in for the first time.

Not wanting to prolong any embarrassment the two of you may be feeling at the new indecent exposure, you push him back down onto the chair, straddling his waist. Your lips meet again as your hand works its way down to his cock. Tracing your hand along its length, you can feel Hansol shuddering beneath you. You slowly begin pumping him, ears filled with the musical sound of his moans. With your other hand, you lead his hand between your legs. Guiding his fingers to circle your clit, you moan at the feeling of his hand working against you.

His fingers slip backwards, finding their way towards your core, and Hansol slowly slips one finger inside you. Arching into him, you feel overcome by the feeling. Slowly pumping into you, you feel his eyes watching your every moment, intent on learning by trying and responding more to every moan and gasp.

Feeling yourself getting higher into the clouds, you still his hand. 

"Sorry, did I do something wrong?" He asks, confused. 

"No, not at all! I just - I want you inside me, fully." You shake your head, blushing at the vulgarity of your words.

"Oh, okay," He breathes, nodding with wide eyes.

Positioning your core over him, you gently position his cock so that it's poking at your entrance. Sinking down onto him every so slightly, loud moans from both of you fill your studio. As you get used to the feeling of him inside you, you let yourself sink further and further down, slowly taking all of him inside you. Hansol's eyes are completely screwed shut by the time you sit down onto him, and it's a sight you take time to commit to memory. You let out a shuddered breath as you pull yourself back up, and Hansol's hands clasp onto your waist, helping to keep you upright.

Your head starts spinning as you start rolling your hips against his, pushing yourself on and off of him in a way that makes you see stars. His hands are guiding your movements, pushing and pulling as you grind down onto him. A sense of urgency appears in his pitchy moans as his hands usher you to move quicker. You're mewling by the time he starts bucking his hips up into you.

"Oh shit, you feel so good" He's whispering into your ear and it's sending you into a frenzy. All you can do is moan in response, pushing yourself back against him. Your mouth is back on his to stop the obscene noises you are making, and you feel your vision blinding as he thrusts into you.

"Hansol, please-" You whimper. Your body is folding into his, only able to stay upright because of the iron grip he has on your hips. It's almost too much, but the sounds that he's groaning have you determined to keep moving, not daring to punish yourself with their loss.

You dig your nails into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as you feel your release building up. His cock twitches inside you and you clench at the feeling, leaving you both crying out in pleasure.

"I love you" His words are almost sobbed, gasped out between whining moans.

"I love you" You whisper back, jaw falling slack as your orgasm overtakes your body. Falling slump against him, jolts of pleasure leave your body twitching as you leave the world momentarily. Underneath you, you just about register his last groans as his hips halt their movements, pushed in as close to you as he can get.

Breathing heavily, you look deeply into your husband's eyes. Fond smiles break across your faces as you come down from your highs. Hands caressing your jaw, he pulls you close for a chaste kiss, before his head rolls back onto the chair in satisfied exhaustion. You giggle, resting your head against his shoulder.

"I think the driver might have left already."