#preparing the house for them tonight is part of the overwhelm

[frivolous-pastel]

I'm feeling overwhelmed this week and had therapy phone call for 4 today but I'm too overwhelmed for therapy

So I asked to cancel and they asked if 10 tomorrow works and I'm expecting movers/cleaners for fire damage tomorrow from 9-11 but I said Sure!

[dabiloveln]

☆‧₊˚🎤✩ ₊˚🎸⊹♡✮˚｡𖦹 °✩ | part two❕

part three will be the final one so stay tuned 💙

being Fuyumi’s bestie and Touya’s girlfriend headcanons !! [ they both are ooc ]

[ you are Fuyumi’s co-worker teacher and Touya is a rockstar ]

you and Fuyumi got the VIP tickets with the best view ever (thanks Touya)

[ backstage ] “next time you stare at me you better not make it so obvious, my fans are pretty jealous” he smirked. “thanks for coming by the way… it means a lot” he said with a slight smile and rosy cheeks and rubbing his neck

two days later you visited their house he jumped out of his room and was like HEYYYY ARE YOU COMING TONIGHT? but the face he made when you said you had to prepare some stuff for your students and their next day’s test 😭

Fuyumi would stand there like 🧍🏻‍♀️ uhm? guys? not to mention that she started to tease you about your and Touya’s interactions (she was actually trying to match you with him)

once Touya sent you a cringe meme (he has a folder of them just in case) and that’s how you both started texting each other about different things, especially music and just daily things

he even made a playlist personally for you !! and OF COURSE it was the playlist full of his songs mixed with other artists

oh god if only you knew what Fuyumi had planned 🤭 she knew her brother like no one else and she was pretty sure that boy was crushing over you like crazy (bro was begging her to tell anything about you for “science purposes”)

on your birthday (two weeks later after the concert) she made a dinner for you and asked to come over and you know who also happened to be there? no need to tell i guess

at first it was awkward (my cutie you didn’t even realise that you started getting feelings for him too) but the time you three spent together was so precious to you since work had been overwhelming lately and you barely got any time for yourself

oops, almost forgot THE GIFTS. Fuyumi got you a pretty necklace you wanted for a long time, a perfume and a cup with “bestie teacher and co-worker ever” written on it 😭 Touya was never good at making gifts, but for you he had to try his best, he wanted to make you smile (so romantic aww)

you opened the gift bag and took a t-shirt out of it. a black coloured one, a bit oversized but most importantly it was actually a merch of your favorite band you could not get (you mentioned it while chatting with him, but you probably forgot about it but he DID NOT)

it was already time to leave, Touya and Fuyumi decided to walk you you home. you thanked them for the time they spent with you and the gifts they got you. you placed soft kissed on their cheeks, said your goodbyes and went home

“so… when are you going to ask her out?” “i don’t wanna rush things but i’m already preparing something”

taglist: @sikuthealien @briethekitsune @cici-sunshine @moonchild701 @greenmanshoe @miikalias @ravenredwine

part three

[another-lost-mc]

Hospitality

No one makes better tea than Barbatos.

BARBATOS x afab!Reader 0.9k words | NSFW | Yandere | Non-con somnophilia Content warnings: Yandere thoughts/behaviours, non-con somnophilia, drugging, stalking. The Creepy Castle AU [Part 2] PREVIOUS | NEXT

When you enter the guest room provided for you at the Demon Lord's castle, there’s a steaming cup of tea on the nightstand. It’s not the first time Barbatos surprised you like this during one of your visits, and the kind gesture makes you smile.

You pick up the delicate porcelain cup and inhale the fragrant aroma - it’s sweet and slightly herbal, a blend of Devildom berries and flowers you can’t identify yet by smell.

You purse your lips and blow gently across the top. The murky red liquid ripples gently as you cool your drink. Your first sip is hesitant, but you hum appreciatively at the light, honeyed taste. You take another generous sip before setting the cup back down onto its saucer.

There’s a folded piece of clothing on the bedspread. When you lift it in front of you, you realize it’s a nightgown; the fabric is soft and semi-sheer, dyed a beautiful shade of dark blue. It falls just above your knees. You can tell by the feel of it that it’s luxurious, nothing that you would ever buy for yourself and certainly not to sleep in.

You attended a ball earlier this evening at Diavolo’s castle. Lucifer and his brothers insisted you join them. Diavolo welcomed you tonight with open arms.

The night was a blur of dancing and drinking and jubilant conversation. By the time the last guests departed, it was well past midnight and Lucifer readily accepted Diavolo’s offer to stay at the castle. Walking back to the House of Lamentation was a daunting proposition; more than one of his brothers drank too much tonight. 

Lucifer and his brothers wandered off to their nearby guest rooms to sleep. Barbatos led you further down the hall and showed you to an exquisite room for your own use. He explained he prepared it for you at Diavolo’s request, to ensure your privacy and comfort. He wished you a good evening before he walked away.

You have nothing with you except a small purse and the dress on your back, purchased earlier that day with Asmodeus. If you twist oh so carefully, you can just reach the zipper and tug it down. The dress slides off your shoulders and glides lazily to the floor and pools at your feet. You drape the dress carefully over the back of an armchair so it doesn’t wrinkle too terribly by morning.

The cool castle air chills your skin and you can feel your bare nipples harden. It might not be appropriate to sleep mostly-naked when you’re a guest of the young prince. You feel ill-prepared for a night away from the comforts of home, but then you glance at the gift on your bed.

The nightgown fits perfectly and the material is silky against your skin. You pull back the blankets and slide into bed, sitting against the headboard with a tired sigh. You cradle the teacup in your palm and take more small sips. The warm liquid relaxes you, and soon you’re sleepy and can drink no more. You set the nearly-empty cup back on the nightstand and shimmy down the mattress to get comfortable. Once your head rests on the soft, cloud-like pillow, you close your weary eyes.

When your breathing slows and you descend into deep sleep, the candles that light the room blow out. The shadows come alive when you're bathed in darkness. Sin slips through the cracks of stone, the walls giving way so no more barriers exist between you.

Greedy eyes drink in your sleeping form and the sheets are tugged away, revealing your soft, touchable skin draped in midnight blue. The sheer fabric clings to each dip and groove and curve when you breathe.

He knew you would look lovely in this.

He dares to reach towards your sleeping face - his once-steady hands now shaking with anticipation, the urge to explore too overwhelming to resist. Beneath the supple leather gloves he wears, he can still feel the warmth of your skin that makes the craving he feels for you bloom deep in his belly.

His hand traces the fragile column of your throat and over the slope of your breasts, fingers gliding over the dips and curves of your chest and waist. The swell of your hip fits so perfectly in his hand. He dares to trail his thumb along the top of your thigh and into the warm space between your legs. Wandering fingers skim the lacy underwear you left on. He feels a hint of dampness there, and he wonders what sinful dreams his tea has given you.

He shifts the fabric aside and your light scent is even stronger now, sweet and musky and all his. He teases the edge of your folds and revels in how soft and warm you are. His movements are gentle, smoothed by the barest traces of slick gathering on his gloves. He wonders how greedy he can be tonight–

You squirm in your sleep and he pulls away quickly as though burned by the temptation of getting too close. You unconsciously rub your thighs together and he already misses his place between them. He savors his consolation prize when he slips his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean until he’s devoured every last drop of you. He barely suppresses the urge to moan.

He needs to go, now, or he never will.

He slips back into the hidden passageway buried within the castle walls and becomes nothing but a shadow once more. He leaves no trace behind, except for the dregs of sleeping herbs in the bottom of your teacup.

[margowritesthings]

The French Are Glad To Die For Love

A Bridgerton x Moulin Rouge crossover

pairing: Colin Bridgerton x ? word count: 2.1k words warnings: 18+ minors DNI, un-beta'd, mentions of sex, spitting, lots of debauchery authors note: surpriiise! i have been sitting on this since part 1, so to celebrate part 2 tomorrow here's my new mini-series! i have never written for Colin before, so i'm nervous, but i loved writing this.

i also need your help! i cannot decide if this mini series should be Colin x reader or a Polin fic, where Penelope is Satine. I have created a poll here for you to vote, so please let me know!

and as always, enjoy! it's been a hot minute since I last published, so thank you if you're still here.

Bridgerton Masterlist

The stars sparkle especially brightly tonight, the crimson lanterns guiding Parisians and tourists alike through the winding streets, and Colin Bridgerton stands in awe of it all. 

He’d read stories, heard tales of this place during long nights at Whites, but nothing could have quite prepared him for what lay ahead of him, a long string of lights hanging in the sky leading the way to his destination. 

The Moulin Rouge. 

A house of debauchery and sin, of freedom and truth, filled to the brim with bohemians and artists and beautiful women unlike anything or anyone he’s ever seen before. Even now, 30 feet away from the illuminated windmill, he can hear the music and the joy spilling out from the building. His senses are filled with the perfume of hundreds of women passing him by the minute, all with real, toothy grins he rarely has the pleasure of seeing back home. It is far too impolite to be so happy in London society. 

Colin steps forwards, his boots crunching against the gravel and his coattails flying in the breeze. His shoulders brush more wonderfully merry, positively inebriated partygoers on his way in, catching odd fragments of conversations that would have scandalised him and his whole family were he elsewhere. 

But he wasn’t elsewhere. He was here, in the city of love, away from anybody who had ever known the name Bridgerton. His clean slate clutched close to his chest, waiting to find out what will be written on it next, Colin feels the fresh air on his face for the last time before his life is changed forever.

The heat hits him first, a symptom he knew all too well of too many people packed into a small space. But unlike every ball he’s been to, this doesn’t feel claustrophobic or fusty. It feels alive. 

There is a feast for the eye wherever one looks. Burlesque dancers showing off stockings and garters by kicking their legs up, toes pointing towards the aerial hoops holding acrobats hanging from the ceiling. Gentlemen, if you can call them that in this state, wearing top hats, arm in arm with their glasses raised high, spilling their contents all over the wooden floor. 

The music blasts loud from each instrument the band masterfully pluck or blow or bang, but laughter and conversation buzzes amongst the melodies. It is a near overwhelming amount of joy, one Colin certainly could use a drink to wash it down with. 

If he could just find the bar…

Bodies fill his view, so entangled in each other it is difficult to tell where one starts and another ends. Frilly skirts flow over the knees of suits as ladies dangle from the necks of patrons, sharing cigars and passing around bottles of an unknown green liquid. Rosy cheeks as far as the eye can see, wether from too much of that green stuff or the exertion of all that dancing, Colin can’t be sure. Between them all, in tiny empty spaces, he can just about make out rows of bottles and glasses. 

Weaving through the crowd is like treading through water, but their energy and joy seems to rub off on him. There isn’t a dance card in sight, women choosing their partners themselves whenever they like with a freedom Colin isn’t sure he’s ever seen before. Is this truly what people are designed to be when they are free?

Eventually, his hands find the sticky wood of the bar, quickly lifting themselves back off it on instinct at the sensation. When Colin looks to his left, he sees a woman pouring a shot of liquor between her breasts, a man knelt below her waiting to lick it back up, and he quickly realises why the bar feels so tacky- every surface here seems to be host to someone’s revelry. 

“Welcome to the Moulin Rouge, monsieur. Can I get you a drink?”

Colin’s attention is quickly pulled by the welcome, his gaze snapping to a tall French woman dripping with red jewels that compliment her rich brown skin perfectly. She is captivating to be sure, deep hazel eyes commanding Colin’s attention, competing with the most incredible curls of hair he has ever seen. Ladies of the ton are welcome no matter their race back home, but Colin has never seen a lady allowed to wear her hair so beautifully natural before. The Afro framing her face has more tiny rubies that sparkle under the cabaret lights, and Colin is speechless. 

“I…uh, pardon me, Miss, I-“ he sighs, giving up entirely at his failed attempt at decorum, “Is it so obvious I have never been here before?” 

She laughs, gems twinkling as her head shakes with mirth. 

“Not at all, but most gentlemen who have been here before know to wear a top hat. And there’s that look in your eye…” 

As she speaks, she pours out one finger of the green liquor Colin has spotted a few times already, sliding it along the wood towards him. 

“Wonder. Drink this. It will help with the nerves.” 

Colin looks down, finding himself fascinated with a drink that seems to glow of its own volition. He has smoked blends and meditated with world weary travellers from across the globe, drank tea containing unknown substances that left him staring at blades of grass as if they held the worlds secrets, and yet this… whatever it is, seems to terrify him.

The barmaid laughs again, that melodic sound with the real joy Colin very much enjoys. 

“It’s only absinthe, monsieur. Loosens the inhibitions, relaxes the body…” she explains, pouring a second out for herself and lifting it to him as if to prove her credibility. 

“Santé.” He toasts to health.

“Amour.” She toasts to something far greater.

It leaves no room for argument, and all Colin can do is lift his own glass and tap it against hers. 

It burns his tongue, leaving a fiery trail down his throat as he swallows and tries not to cough and splutter. A bitter yet herby anise flavour fights with his taste buds and seems to seep straight into his mind, teasing at those tense knots that held him back from fully immersing himself here. 

When his eyes eventually reopen, he finds the barmaid beaming at him, unphased by her own potion. Rather used to it, if she shares a glass with every newcomer, he should think.

“Be careful, though, monsieur. Many a man has spent a night with the stuff and swears he fell in love with a fairy dressed all in green. Ruined him for any other woman for the rest of his life…” She speaks words that belong in fairytale, with a tone containing such severity Colin is inclined to take every single one of them as gospel. 

“I dare say I should be careful, then. I do not think this green fairy would want to join the rest of my travels when she can instead entice all of Paris’ men to sin…” 

The residue of the liquor smells just as strong as the full measure, which Colin tries to blink out of his senses when he puts the glass back on the bar.

Almost as if society itself had cleared its throat at him, Colin remembers himself, remembers just where he is. Undoubtedly the most unique establishment he had ever set foot in, but an establishment all the same. 

“I beg your pardon, miss, I seem to forget myself. How much do I owe you for the drink?”

She considers him.

“Hm,  the absinthe I think… for you, a kiss.” 

Colin, already pulling coins from his breast pocket, pauses, a little grin tugging at the corner of his lip. The francs clink together when they fall back to the bottom of his pocket, a long forgotten currency of the past. It’s a perfect reminder of just how different things are here, how easily walls crumble between strangers and connection is offered so freely. He has never kissed a woman he has not paid for back home, so afraid of getting too close to another in case they ruin each other. Here, a beautiful woman leans over the bar, offering her flushed cheek for him to softly press his lips against. 

And he does. 

And it is lovely. 

“If any more handsome men capture the eye of Mademoiselle Belle, I will surely be out of business!��� A loud, hearty voice pulls Colin from one blissful moment back into the party.

He regards a rather large man, clad in a red tailcoat and stunning golden waistcoat. His top hat, near the same to all the other gentlemen in the room but somehow grander, tops wild orange curls that match a fantastic handlebar moustache. A true ring leader to this wonderful circus of debauchery Colin has found himself in. 

“Harold Zidler, at your service. Welcome to the Moulin Rouge.” 

“Colin Bridgerton.” He replies, offering a hand that Harold seems bemused at. Unsurprising, considering what passes for currency around here. Nonetheless, Harold shakes the offered hand. 

”I must say, your establishment is rather…” he hesitates, unable to find a word in any language he has picked up along his travels that quite captures the Moulin Rouge. Perhaps he could blame the absinthe, or the intoxicating hedonism he feels rooting its way through his mind, hidden in the brass notes from the band and thrown with each cancan kick of one of the dancers that surrounds him. 

Luckily, Harold seems well used to this phenomenon. 

“Isn’t it? And you have seen nothing yet! I assume you are not from around here?”

”It is rather obvious, I have been told.” Colin adds a glance to Miss Belle, who’s skirt frills bounce in the lights while she shakes up a cocktail. He adds, “London.” 

”Well, Monsieur Bridgerton, I promise you that what we have here in the Moulin Rouge is unlike anything you have back home in London.” 

Colin’s eye is caught again across the room, as a beautiful woman with blonde tumbling waves spits a drink into a man’s mouth. 

“I am inclined to agree with you there.” 

It truly is unlike anything back home. Colin has travelled across Europe and back again, seen incredible sights and met wonderful people. He has felt that ease that distance from London society and its unwritten laws and social rules that bind him back home can bring. He’s seen beauty and felt freedom and thought he might have found truth somewhere along the way, but it pales to whatever is contained within these four walls. 

In truth, it couldn’t be farther from London society.

”Just wait until you see my Diamond, Monsieur.”

… Perhaps not. 

Intrigue hits Colin as Harold pulls out a pocket watch on a brilliant gold chain. 

“Your diamond?”

”My Sparkling Diamond. The main attraction of the Moulin Rouge, my most sought after little chickee.” He speaks proudly, with a mist in his eye Colin normally finds on ambitious Mamas at grand balls, secretly trying to auction their daughters off to the highest rank. 

“I do not believe she is booked yet for tonight…” Harold adds, that mist darkening, disappearing, leaving a shiver stuck between Colin’s shoulder blades.

Not because this Diamond is a courtesan. Colin is hardly a stranger to the profession, and he bears no judgement. In truth, he admires the women he has been known to spend the night with, finding the courage of living outside society so freely quite brave indeed. No, that shiver came from Harold entirely, Colin just cannot figure out why. 

Harold excuses himself, though makes sure Colin knows to stay for the show, and Colin orders a whiskey on the rocks, insisting on paying in cash this time. Though singular in person, he has never felt less alone in his life. Looking around, there isn’t an empty chair in the house. If there were, there wouldn’t be room to put it down for all the dancers and patrons enjoying every ounce of the world they can. Music played straight from the soul ringing in his ears, Colin could make out every instrument. The lights dazzled in his eyes and the spot caught him every so often, lighting his drink up in his hand like golden ambrosia. 

And then, darkness. Silence. 

A single spot, though the mirrors scattered around catch the light and illuminate the faces of the people around him. Everybody is looking upwards, as if they all know she is coming. 

Even if he did know, Colin could never have prepared himself for what he saw when he looked up.

Who he saw.

The Sparkling Diamond, shimmering high on a swing hanging from the ceiling. 

The most beautiful, breathtaking, person he has ever seen. In any city, on any continent in the world. 

Crimson lips part as each and every person hangs on the breath she takes.

”The French are glad to die for love…”

don't forget to vote in the poll for your fmc!

[zablife]

Keep Us Safe (Part 1)

Tommy Shelby x wife reader 

Summary: Family history repeats itself when your daughter is taken by parish authorities. This time Tommy won't let them get away with it.

Author’s Note: Requested by a lovely anon who asked for a story similar to Polly’s experience. A 2 part series.

Warnings: mild smut, threat of violence and kidnapping

Tommy stretched in his chair, rubbing his eyes for the hundredth time that evening. Moonlight bathed his dingy office in the betting shop and the paperwork scattered before him showed no signs of righting themselves by morning at this rate. He reached for the gold chain at his waist, opening his pocket watch and frowning at the time. You asked him not to be late for dinner again and he had passed that long ago. He stood, grabbing his cap and locked up as quickly as possible.

The house was quiet, the embers of the fire dying down peacefully as he crossed the threshold. He dropped his boots at the door, surveying the kitchen which still smelled of shepherd’s pie, a dinner you had lovingly prepared in his absence. He hung his head, noticing his daughter’s stuffed bear on the floor and squeezed it in his hand, wishing there were more nights together as a family. 

He turned to make his way to her to at least kiss her goodnight. The stairs groaned beneath his weight as he trudged toward the bedroom, unbuttoning his collar as he went. When he pushed the door open, he stopped short, taking in the beautiful sight before him. You were asleep in the rocking chair he had built, little carvings of your favorite flower added by Arthur’s skilled touch. When Nora was born you nursed her there and you still used it to rock her to sleep when she was overtired and fussy.

Tommy reckoned tonight must have been difficult if you were sat there now, cradling her across your lap. At two years old, she was quickly outgrowing it, but you never denied her. You were a doting mother, some might even say indulgent, but she was your whole world.

When Tommy came to shake your shoulder gently, you woke with a slight start, careful not to drop your precious babe. You smiled down at her dark curls, raven like her father’s hair. “What time is it?” you asked your husband, voice slightly hoarse.

“It’s late, I’m sorry, love,” Tommy apologized in a hushed whisper. Watching you attempt to stand, he said, “Here, let me take Nora." Then he dipped his shoulder to gather the weight of her tiny body. As he carried her across the room, he relished the feeling of having his child in his arms. Her chubby cheek rested against his chest, eyelids fluttering momentarily as though far away in a lovely dream. The thought of it made his heart clench as he only ever wished good dreams for her, his fervent wish to keep her safe from harm.

Tommy turned to place her in her cot and tucked her bear beneath her arm with tender care. With a feeling of overwhelming love and devotion, he watched her clutch it close to her body in order to cuddle it properly before bringing her thumb to her mouth. 

You came to stand beside your husband, feeling his arm wrap around your waist protectively. You dropped your head to his shoulder as you felt his thumb rubbing circles into your hip. His cheek rested against your soft hair and he took a deep breath, basking in your comforting scent of aloe and rose water. There was nothing quite like being home with you.

You took him by the hand, guiding him from the room into the hall as you heard him murmur, “I’m missing so much of her life.” The defeated tone of his voice made you turn to face him, worried his anxiety was resurfacing. Having missed Nora’s birth while away at war and meeting his child on her first birthday, he was trying desperately to forge a bond with her in the present, yet he always felt he was failing. His work consumed more and more of his waking hours as he became relentless in his pursuit of success. “I will make something of meself. I want her to have everything,” he asserted firmly. 

You pressed a hand to his cheek delicately as you hushed him with a soft kiss to his lips, pulling away to nod against him. “I know, Tommy. You do what you do for us, but you forget that we already have everything,” you said. Tommy furrowed his brow as you explained, “We have you.”

Tommy placed his hand over yours and squeezed it tightly. Only you could calm him when life seemed chaotic and unbearable. He leaned down to kiss you, treating you delicately at first with slow, lazy movements which soon grew in intensity as his need for you increased. His hand tangled in your hair as you parted your lips for him, allowing him to deepen the kiss to fulfill his desires. Breaking apart for breath, he placed his forehead to yours saying, “Yes, you have me. All of me, love.”

You gave him an impish grin before pushing up on tip toes to whisper in his ear, “Might I have all of you right now?” Your hand slid to the front of his trousers, smirking against his neck when you discovered his growing hardness. Tommy suddenly knelt to pick you up, strong arm hooking below your knees and you stifled a surprised yelp, then a giggle as he carried you to the bedroom. 

The worries of the day faded as you tumbled into bed together, sighing with satisfaction as Tommy’s weight settled over you. You melted beneath his touch, giving yourself over to him with complete trust and adoration. He took care of you the way you’d grown accustomed, intertwining his fingers with yours and leaving a trail of kisses along your neck as he gently urged you toward bliss. As a tidal wave of pleasure consumed you both, he swallowed your moans with a passionate kiss, finally stilling inside you to take in the sight of your flushed cheeks and delirious smile.

Tommy withdrew slowly, not wanting to leave your comforting warmth. With heart still hammering, he pulled you into his side, placing a kiss to the top of your head as you traced the rising sun tattoo on his chest. Exhaustion soon overtook you and you fell into a deep slumber, but Tommy laid awake staring at the ceiling and thinking about his strategy for the next day’s meeting. 

—————————————————————————

“Good morning, sleepy head. Tea?” you asked as Tommy came stumbling down the steps, snapping a suspender over one shoulder. 

��Yeah,” Tommy said, running a hand through his hair and scouring the room for Nora. “Where’s the baby?” he asked, voice still rough with sleep. 

You turned from the stove to hand him a mug and he accepted it, sitting at the table to light a cigarette. “Esme came by with the children and she took her to the park,” you answered, taking a sip of your tea. “We could join them if you like,” you said, looking up hopefully. You reached for Tommy’s cigarette, taking a long, slow drag as you awaited his reply.

“I’m sorry, love, I wish I could,” Tommy began as he took the cigarette back from you, but you nodded in understanding. You could tell something was on his mind. 

“Is everything alright, Tom? You seem worried,” you noted.

“Everything’s fine. I have to go to the shop. Family meeting is an hour,” he replied, stubbing out his smoke and standing from the table. “We’ll take Nora to the park Saturday, eh? We’ll have a picnic,” he suggested with a small smile.

“She’d like that,” you agreed, watching him collect his coat and hat.

With a brief kiss, Tommy was out the door and striding purposefully toward the betting shop.

———————————————

Tommy closed the doors from the shop, shutting out the raucous noise and turned to Polly expectantly. “Did you get it, Pol?” He rocked on his heels, impatient for the information that would help Freddie and Ada.

Polly reached inside her shirt front and pulled out a small piece of paper, handing to Tommy slowly. “The name is Stanley Chapman. Here’s the address. The money’s there and it’s all arranged,” she said confidently.

“Alright,” Tommy said. “This should at least buy them some time to leave the city while I make a deal with Kimber.”

Polly placed a hand to Tommy’s forearm, looking into his eyes as she advised, “It’s not too late to be rid of the guns, Tommy. You have a family. Think of Y/n and Nora.”

Tommy jerked his arm away, incredulous at Polly's suggestion. “I am thinking of my family, Pol. When I gain a legal racetrack pitch it’s all going to change for us.”

Polly shook her head sadly, “Tommy, your mother always said, It’s his cleverness that’ll kill him. I just hope it isn’t your wife and child as well.” Her face was pained as she said it. Tommy realized he had hurt her by dismissing her advice and he tried to reach for her as she brushed past, but she wouldn’t have it. The conversation was ended with his stubborn response. All that was left was for Polly to say her rosary and pray that God kept them all safe.

———————————————

“You have an address for me?” Inspector Campbell asked as the rain fell in torrents behind him. The bad weather keeping curious onlookers away from their late night rendezvous.

Tommy nodded confidently. “Stanley Chapman,” he declared in a clear voice.

“I asked for Freddie Thorne. No deal,” Campbell replied disapprovingly. He replaced the bowler hat atop his head and turned to leave, his coat flapping in the breeze.

“Stanley Chapman is a much bigger fish than Freddie Thorne and he’s currently holding 200 pounds in cash,” Tommy offered. Then he added a bit louder, “Given to the Communist Party by the Russian government.” 

Inspector Campbell broke his stride suddenly and looked over his shoulder with renewed interest. He slowly began to walk back to Tommy, eyebrows raised to show he was listening. Seeing he was gaining traction in the negation, Tommy continued, “If he talks you’ll have proof. You might even get a medal.” He could see the way Campbell’s eyes gleamed with the mention of an honor and he hoped he could tempt his corrupt soul. It was time for Tommy to make his demands clear. 

“Now, before I give you the address, I want your word that Freddie Thorne will be safe,” he said, holding the paper before the inspector like a prize.

“Very well. You have my word,” Campbell said with a quick nod of his head. He extended his hand and accepted the paper, shoving it inside his coat pocket eagerly. “There is just one more pressing matter at hand, however,” he said, drawing out his words dramatically.

He took a seat in a nearby chair as he considered Tommy with a sidelong glance, building suspense before admitting, “Mr. Churchill is becoming impatient and I fear that if you don’t give back the stolen weapons soon, I will be replaced.” 

Tommy cocked his head, feeling ill at ease with the direction of the conversation. Feeling the need to remind Campbell of their arrangement, he interjected, “When my business with Kimber is done, I will return the guns. That was the deal.”

However, the inspector was not finished. He clasped his hands as he leaned forward to threaten, “If I were to be fired and it were your fault, I would do things that would shame the devil.” He chuckled darkly as he added, “My fury is a thing to behold. For example, on my last day, I could use my authority to have your daughter removed and placed so far away, you’d never find her." Tommy's face turned an ashen gray at the mention of Nora and Campbell seized on it immediately with glee. "Ah, you think I didn't know? I know you’ve tried to hide her amongst your brothers’ children, but that little raven haired girl stands out, Mr. Shelby. I have my men watching her and that beautiful wife of yours,” he leered.

Tommy stood motionless as the inspector spoke, blue eyes staring without blinking as his blood ran cold. His mind went blank of all strategy as he was forced to imagine the unthinkable. Campbell took two steps closer, making Tommy feel a suffocating closeness. “That would be a dark day indeed, Mr. Shelby,” Campbell said, his lips curling into an evil grin. “Know this, the clock is ticking,” he said, shoving a finger into Tommy’s chest before he turned on his heel to leave.

Tommy stumbled backward, holding his head in his hands. He had to think of something quickly. You and his baby girl were in grave danger.

Cont reading Part 2

------------------------------

Tag List:

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@kmhappybunny240

[spankingtheatre]

I was in the shower tonight when I was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge — the need — to cum.

I let the handheld shower sprayer dangle just above the bottom of the bath, lying down in front of it with my head on the cool ceramic. The stream was fast and strong, and I positioned my pussy directly in front of it, spreading my legs and hooking my arms behind my knees. Then I closed my eyes.

I imagined that I had returned from my day and come inside, excited to greet you. I pranced inside and melted into your arms, quickly starting to tell you about my day, rambling about classes and friends and candies and rumors and…

“Ah ah ah, little one,” you interrupted, “not until after we get you squared away.”

Of course, our evening ritual. How had I forgotten?

You stay seated at the kitchen table and part your legs so that I am standing between them. Rolling up your sleeves, you direct me to reveal any misbehaviors from my day. I shuffle my feet and swing my head side to side.

“What’s that?” you ask, lifting my chin with your fingers.

“I, uh, well - when I awoke this morning, I was - I didn’t mean to but, I was all wet… and I didn’t want to go to school that way, so I used my fingers to make it better.” I hang my head, ashamed.

“We’ve gone over this several times, girl. It is natural and wonderful to wake up this way. But it is not your responsibility to make it feel better. What happens to a naughty girl who touches herself without permission?”

“She is punished, sir.”

“And how do we punish naughty girls in this house?”

“Over your knee, sir.”

“That’s right,” you say, lifting my skirt and pulling my panties down, before draping me over one of your knees, spreading open my legs in the process so that my pussy is properly displayed.

But before you begin to spank me, you notice that I am dripping from my cunt, and my juices are already soaking into your pants. You trace my lips with your finger and I moan.

“This is out of hand, little girl. You are out of control. We need to get you cleaned up.”

I go red almost immediately when you say this, because I know exactly what this means.

“Sir, please, not the..” I start, but you interrupt me with a sharp smack to my bottom.

“Not a word out of you. You are getting your cunt cleaned out and that’s that. Stand up.”

Once I am stood in front of you, you peel off the rest of my clothing until I am bare and naked, then direct me to the bathroom - your bathroom, the master bathroom.

“Go lie in the bath and prepare yourself for your washing. I will be up soon.”

I dread this. The humiliation. I enter the bathroom, with the huge tub in its center, the handheld attachment hanging from the ceiling. You installed two stirrup-like devices on either side of the tub spout, to hold my feet in place.

I pull myself into the tub and lie back on the cool ceramic. Lifting my feet into each spot, I feel the cool air on my pussy as my legs are forced open. I hear you enter behind me.

“Good girl,” you murmur, locking my feet into the devices, even as I whimper. You start to run the bath water and it pools around my body as you position the nozzle directly at my cunt.

“You know the deal. I will set a 15 minute timer. I don’t want to hear your whining, I know it’s a lot to take, but your pussy needs to be nice and clean for me.”

You turn the nozzle to begin its treatment and I cry out, as it begins to pump my pussy full of water, vibrating my clit from the inside, forcing a constant expulsion of water as it cleans me deeply.

“Take your cleaning like a good, well-behaved girl. Your whimpers won’t make this any less. I need you to be nice and clean to go over my knee.”

It isn’t more than a minute or two before I begin to convulse with my first orgasm, and you praise me for it, twisting my nipples as I come. “That’s a good girl. Let it all out. You’re going to come several times for me before your cleaning is done.”

And sir, that’s as far as I got before I had to peel my legs down, because I was writhing and whimpering hard myself, imagining you directing me to wash myself. I was embarrassed afterwards - not that anyone heard me, but for my shameful little fantasy. But I would love to know how you’d make sure a girl was clean for you.

Thank you for this wonderfully detailed and arousing submission!

I love the idea of special stirrups in the bath to hold the occupant in position and keep their legs spread. I know many have their first orgasms in the bath, and using the shower hose to aim a strong warm jet of water at their throbby clits is a highly popular way for many to play.

I also loved the little ritual of confessing on arriving home. I think many reading this would love that kind of accountability, especially if it meant having to submit to intimate inspections.

Being inspected is a highly popular fantasy, especially for those who get a bit over-excited and can't help making their panties disgracefully wet and sticky. This is rule even the best behaved little girls find it difficult not to break. A kind of tolerable, unavoidable naughtiness. Well deserving a good hard spanking.

Personally though, I don't like douching, and current medical advice is that it's not good for vaginal health. So my preference would be to clean a messy slit in different ways.

I like wiping with silk handkerchiefs, starting on your bare mound, pinching back your hood to keep you from squirming, and dragging the smooth silk square all the way down the length of your slit. That technique even inspired one of my earliest stories.

Alternatively, I might take you by the hand to the bathroom, undress you, and give you a thorough intimate washing between your legs with a soft warm flannel.

Another method I love for cleaning wet slits is to set up a Straddle Pole, and wrap a towel around it. After I'd undressed you, I'd make you straddle it, so the pole was deep between your legs. Then you can ride the pole until all your wetness is rubbed away, until the point when the friction is beginning to become uncomfortably sore, and you're begging to be allowed to dismount.

Regardless of the means I chose, once you were clean I'd inspect you thoroughly before you got the smacked bottom your disgraceful messiness deserved.

I hope you'll be imagining some of these methods the next time you point the shower head between your open legs.

[mchlgayser]

hey, can u write for Phil where he had a bad day and just want to be held by the reader while he cries on her chest.

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐍 ft phil foden

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Phil had a very bad day at practice leads to a minor injury and he was frustrated and overwhelmed but he's glad to have you...

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst + fluff / ( ☆ )

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: depressing theme, and mental breakdown

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: HELLO! I'm sorry if this is seem rushed and does not seem too detailed, I'm fighting every urges in me to do this as perfect as I can so I hope you likes it even though I'm late. Happy reading xx!

'Phillip, where are you going?' You cling to him not wanting to let go but yet he still lets go 'Sweet, this is our last practice before our match. Let me go alright, then I promise to spend the whole day with you!' He stares into your eyes and cups your cheeks, forehead touching giving you one affectionate gesture to where he flutters his eyelashes against your skin.

'I'll see you tonight, yeah?' He kiss the corner of your lips before he left the house.

You wander around the house the whole day, doing chores and cleaning the untouched parts of the house, and preparing dinner for you and Phil. The clock reaches 7 and a half when your phone buzz inside the pink bunny apron you are wearing. The call was Phil so you picked it up. 'Hello?' It was harsh and fast on the other side but you waited until someone said a word 'Phil had a minor on his ankle during practice, can you pick him up?' It was Jack's voice, you hum before rushing to get ready and making sure you turn off every stove before you headed to the venue.

When you arrived, you see one of the staff waiting for you n the entrance 'He's in the locker room, and doesn't speak since he got out of the injury room.' You ran alongside her to the locker room. The guys are outside, all of them except Jack.

'They're inside.'

You jog to the room seeing Jack and Phil sitting on the bench 'Hey,' He pets Phil on his back before leaving the room. 'Phil...' You murmured inching his way and sat down 'Come along, we head home alright?' He was quiet for once before he nods and left with you.

The ride home is gloomy and hazy, Phil said nothing but to bore out in the passing buildings, you try to start a chat but he said none to which you sighed and leave him be.

Once you got home, you run a warm bath and help him do his bath, his leg not helping by aching and throbbing each time he overstepped the tiles. Once you did, you put clothes on for him and bring him to the kitchen to have dinner. 'I made your favorite dish!' You beam trying to lighten the muddied atmosphere but Phil not budging.

You put his portion inside his plate and one for yours, the night dinner date you plan suppose to be bright, full of remarks and chats not quiet, gloomy, and uncomfortable but you can't complain. Your boyfriend needed time and you are willing to give him as much time as he wanted.

You finished eating up, washed dishes, and put Phil to bed. 'Phil?' You begin, crawling next to him under the thick duvet and half laying with your head against the headrest. He hums ushering you to continue without battling an eye on you 'Are you... Fine...?' He plops beside you on the bed, arms carefully wrap around you 'I'm fine...' His voice cracks, and unwavering breaths follow right after. Your clothes suddenly soak with salty and warm tears when Phil suddenly cries on you.

'I was so prepared, that last move! It was supposed to be perfect all according to plan but I just had to mess up and tackled down! It's not fair, I've been waiting for this!' You shush him, soothing his palm caressing his back with open palm 'It's gonna be fine...' You whispered tightening your hold around him when he cries harder 'You will come back, stronger when you sort your mental health and it will be perfectly fine. I knew that, I believed in that. It will be fine Phillip.' You press a light kiss on his head and held his face not your other palm gently stroking it whilst you wipe his tears away.

It was a long time before Phil stopped crying. He kept his arms around you making sure you are comfortable enough and slept with burning eyes and a runny nose. You gave his head a pet before you fell asleep, chin brushing over his hair in comfy.

[baekguuuuu]

Enchanted

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: TimeTravel!au (this is the last one i swear), romance, angst, Heavily inspired by Enchanted by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 20.5k

Disclaimer: As mentioned, this fic is heavily inspired by the song Enchanted. This is purely fictional and not based on what happened in real life.

Summary: Tired of constant fights of your parents, you found herself in the attic where an old wardrobe stood at the corner years before your family moved in the house.

What could an antique furniture do to change your life?

This is not how a family is supposed to be. 

Constant arguing. Constant yelling. Constant throwing whatever they could reach at each other. 

Constant discussion about divorce. 

Being the eldest daughter in an Asian household was a lot to take—an overwhelming roller-coaster of emotions throughout my entire life.  

I must be the sacrificial lamb amongst my siblings. 

My grades must be soaring high. Anything beneath an A was unacceptable, and I must prepare for an earful about “not being good enough.” 

Dreams? I dismissed the meaning of that word a long time ago. My only career choices are engineering, accounting, law, or medicine. 

Art is stupid. That was what my dad said when I was in fifth grade, and wanted a camera for my birthday. I was fascinated with taking pictures when I was young. Instead, I got a sad birthday cake from the grocery store and an outdated Jansport backpack as a gift. 

You might think, “Oh, life must be financially burdensome for their family.” I felt so, too. And that was true. But my parents would do things differently to my siblings. 

I tried to be the daughter they wanted me to be and didn’t ask or think ill towards my parents. However, when I started middle school, I learned that my parents just have favoritism. 

And clearly, I was not their favorite. 

The middle child, who was just a year younger than me, got to join a Taekwondo lesson as a child, not because our parents wanted him to, but because he wanted to. After a year, he switched to football. After that, he was into boxing. 

Just a coincidence? 

No, he was our mom’s favorite. 

The youngest was three years younger than me, and she was enrolled in an Art school. She also wanted to be a ballerina. My parents were supportive of her. They paid for classes and for her goddamn shoes that needed to be changed every other week. 

I thought Art was stupid, Dad?

Oh, right... she was his favorite. 

It would be a few more months before I graduated high school, and I couldn’t be more thankful that I received a full scholarship to a university that, fortunately, my parents have always dreamed of. 

For years, I’ve already decided to live away from home and opt to stay at the dorms; yet again, I don’t have the right to decide for myself, don’t I? 

My mom and dad agreed to let me stay in their house until I got my degree. They were too afraid that I would lose track of my supposed-to-be dream of becoming an Engineer. That was their choice, not mine. 

I wanted to take pictures, but they wanted me to build structures. 

Tonight was the same as the other nights.  

My dad had just gotten home from his nine-to-five desk job and a drinking session with his colleagues, while my mom claimed that she was so stressed from her part-time admin job that she still had to cook and clean after us. 

I was the one who did the grocery shopping; I did not own a car and had to ride the bus with plastic bags in my hands. I was the one who washed the dishes and threw the trash out because, apparently, the youngest in this household just got her nails done, and the chores would ruin them. 

Dad said the middle child should be excluded from the chores because he is a man. I honestly don’t get the logic behind his words. We are in the 21st century, not in the 1900s. 

Despite all my efforts, I was still not being credited. Yet again. 

Dad was an old-fashioned guy. He wanted to be served by his wife and his daughter—well, only me because his precious youngest daughter can’t do shit. 

I was already in my bedroom and ready to tuck myself in bed, as it was a school night when Dad arrived. He banged on the front door behind him as he came in. It started with yelling, cursing, and throwing stuff, as usual. 

Then, the divorce. 

It’d be like this every single time I could identify the scenario as a routine in this house. 

The only thing I could not and could never accept was that after this night, my mom would post on her social media how perfect our family was—or, more accurately, how she would portray it. “My family is my everything,” she would caption our family photo on Facebook. 

Bullshit. Everything is bullshit. 

I was seated on my bed; my eyes were closed as I listened to their argument. “I don’t love you anymore, I haven’t for the past ten years,” my dad screamed, earning a violent sob from my mom.  

Then I heard a glass shattering on the ground—Mom probably threw another of her vase collections to dad. “Then leave! I don’t need you here! I don’t need anyone in this family. All of you can leave for all I care!” 

The only thing I could do was bury my face in my hands to muffle my sobs. Whenever I thought I was already numb to this situation, I’d be proven wrong. It was still painful. To be in this family.  

After a while, the house turned silent. There was no shouting, cursing, or throwing objects. It was just an eerie silence. Then suddenly, the door across my room opened and closed, and then the bedroom beside mine. 

Oh, right.  

Mom had to comfort my brother, telling him it was just an argument and everything would be fine.  

Obviously, Dad went to my sister’s room to do the same. 

I almost forgot that this is also part of their routine—comforting their children. 

Some people might think they would come into my room after calming down their favorite child.  

No. They never did. 

I had to wipe my own tears because no one would do it for me. 

With a heavy heart, I pushed the comforter away from my body and placed my feet on the floor. Wiping the leftover tears, I went out of my room, and the only place I could think of was my safe place—the attic. 

Unlike other houses, our attic is well kept, courtesy of the loner in this house—me. You barely could see dust, spiderwebs, and all that stuff. This was my only escape from this house since my siblings thought they were too cool to hang out with me, while my parents plainly didn’t care. 

The hand-pulling light bulb dangled from the ceiling as I turned on the source of brightness in these four walls. 

A sigh escaped my lips while I looked around the room, inspecting if someone had come in without my knowledge. When I confirmed that everything was in its place as I left them, I pulled out my iPhone from my pyjama’s pocket and was glad that I had charged the device before I came up here.  

February 20, 2020, 01:50 AM, the date and time read. 

With my legs crossed, I sat on the wooden floor as I scrolled through my gallery for the random photos I had taken the past few days.  

I automatically smiled at each file. Some were pictures of my friends at school, while most were pictures of trees, trails, random people on the street. 

I was focusing on one picture I took last week: a police station built over a hundred years ago. It was near my house, and since I was a kid, older people would tell us stories about how it was requested to be demolished and relocated to a much more commercial place several times but was protected by an influential family. 

My thoughts were too occupied that I didn’t hear the scratching noise at the corner of the room. It took at least ten seconds for me to grasp that something was inside the old wardrobe at the very far end of the attic. 

I wasn’t a scaredy cat; at least, I believed I was not. But when the scratching continued, I jumped on my feet, turning on the flashlight on my phone to shine some light at the dark corner of the room. I’m praying it was just a mouse or a cat—anything but the G word. 

“Hello?” I stupidly called in a small voice, thinking whatever it was would respond to my greeting. It took at least five seconds before the scratching against the wooden door of the wardrobe became a bit louder. 

I should have been running back to my room, screaming my lungs out for help, but instead, I took a step towards the noise, opening the wardrobe door slowly. I exhaled before rolling my eyes when I saw the tricolor cat I adopted from the streets a few days ago. I had to beg on my knees to my parents to let me keep the feline. 

I clicked my tongue, carrying the purring cat in my hands. “How did you get in here, you silly?” 

Closing the wardrobe door, the old hanging light bulb suddenly went out, and I could feel my heart pounding loudly in my chest. I hugged the kitten close as I fumbled on my phone to turn on the flashlight again, but the scratching noise came back before I could click the icon. 

And this time, it was louder than ever. It couldn’t be the cat I was holding. I could feel his fur in my hands, paw and nails—everything. It was not him who was making the eerie noise. 

The hair on the back of my neck was reacting to my fear, and the lump in my throat threatened to escape as a wail. 

The noise was coming from behind, not from inside of the wardrobe. 

I may excel in my studies and be the top student in our class, but I was a loser when it came to survival skills. I was a slow-witted, pathetic human being. The first thing that came to my mind was to hide in the wardrobe and close the door. 

Which I did. 

With my eyes closed, I hugged the kitten on my chest tighter, praying for my life rather than calling for help. I couldn’t count how many times I chanted every prayer I learned from being forced to go to church every Sunday with my family. 

I waited until the noise stopped before I could open my eyes. I was too frightened to move and could only peek through my lashes. It was too dark inside the wardrobe, and I couldn't see anything. I moved my foot to push the door a little bit, and I couldn’t help but sigh in relief when a light peeked through the door. 

I didn’t notice when my bare feet touched wet grass instead of the wooden floor of my parents' attic. I didn’t feel the summer breeze instead of cold winter air. I didn’t notice the bright sun and clear sky when, in fact, I clearly remember that it was past midnight when I went to the attic. 

Not until I instinctively hugged the cat who was supposed to be in my arms when I came into the wardrobe just to find out that he was nowhere to be seen. I turned around to look inside the furniture, but my furry companion was also not there. 

My eyes were wide as I slowly took in the unfamiliar surroundings. Empty lots and vintage cars that I could only imagine seeing inside a museum were now on the bumpy road. People were also wearing crisp suits, dresses, and fancy hats. 

A passerby would give me a weird look, analyzing my current state: in shock and in my Winnie the Pooh’s pyjamas. 

I was too terrified to move a muscle, and I couldn’t find my voice to speak out. I stood on my spot for an eternity, trying to convince myself that this was just a dream. 

It should be. 

When I finally found the courage to move, a hand grabbed my arm, preventing me from moving from my spot. Slowly, I looked over my shoulder and saw two uniformed personnel eyeing me from head to toe. 

“We received a report that an odd lady is wandering about.” The man with a badly shaved beard spoke, removing his hand from my arm and showing his baton, probably to intimidate me. 

“I—I’m,” I cleared my throat when my voice broke, “I’m not wandering about. I—I’m actually lost.”  

I assume the two police officers looked at each other before one of them nodded his head and asked me to follow him. I had no idea what was happening or where I was, so I followed what they asked me to. 

We arrived at a small complex with other uniformed personnel present. When I went in the door, they all looked at me warily. I could only hang my head in fear and embarrassment as I followed the man to a small room at the back. 

There was a small table and two chairs across from each other, and he sat on one of them. I stood by the door, waiting for an invitation to be seated. 

“You may take a seat,” the policeman extended his arm towards the chair before him. 

I obeyed and gently took a seat. I was fidgeting with the ring on my index finger. A few weeks ago, I bought it from the street of Hongdae and forgot to remove it before going to bed. 

“Before we start,” the policeman sighed, lacing his fingers together before putting them on the table, “may I ask what you are wearing?” 

I instantly inspected my clothes; it was just an ordinary pajama I bought online. It’s 100% cotton, but that’s not the point. 

“I—uhm... it's a pajama I ordered online, and they were on sale—” 

“I beg your pardon?”  

I felt my bottom lip tremble, too intimidated by the policeman interrogating me and had no idea what I was supposed to tell him. Helpless was an understatement to explain my situation.  

“It’s—uh... pajama?” 

He visibly fumed, pursing his lips as he eyed me with concern and, at the same time, exasperation. “You are unmistakably unwell, and I require to have knowledge of your origin for the reason we can have a conversation with your guardian by allowing you on loose.” 

I quickly shook my head, denying his claim that I was somewhat insane by just saying pyjama. “I’m not unwell, sir. I—I’m just… confused. I-I don’t know where I am.” 

The officer squinted his eyes, his lips forming a thin line. “You don’t know where you are?” 

I slowly nodded, unsure if I was saying the right thing at the right time. “Yes, sir.” 

He let out a breath, shaking his head not so subtly. “You are currently in Jung district. We spoke the same language then I deduce that you are from this country. Unless you are espionage?” 

Jung district? That means I was still within the area. But why were they assuming that I was unwell just because of my choice of sleepwear or using words that normal people didn’t particularly use? I had to use my last few brain cells to comprehend the word “espionage.”

Espionage? 

Wait—spying? 

My eyes widened, and I quickly shook my head. “N-no, sir. I’m not a spy or some sort. I’m just—I’m an ordinary student who goes to school at—” 

“Silence!” the officer roared, slamming his palm on the table that separated us. His voice and action echoed across the small room, making me jump from my seat and tremble in fear. 

I whimpered, my head hanging low. “I’m sorry.” 

The officer was quiet for almost a minute until I heard him sigh, making me peek under my lashes. He was shaking his head, hands on the table, as he stood up from his seat. “You need to be detained until the Chief gets here. You need to substantiate that you are not a spy.” 

“Wait—” I got up from the metal chair. The legs of the furniture made a screeching noise against the cement floor. I held on to his arm, which was a bad idea, as he immediately grabbed both my wrists and held me on the table.  

I cried out in pain when the side of my head was slammed forcefully on the surface of the table. “S-sir, please. I swear to God, I’m not what you think I am.” 

My choice of words might have been another bad idea, as he fumed and mumbled under his breath how I used God lightly. A tear escaped my eyes when I saw a handcuff that looked different from what I’d seen on television, the internet, etcetera. 

I was escorted to the corner of the room, where two separate prison cell exists. As I entered the bars, I saw someone in the other cell. He was sitting on the floor, hugging his knees and hiding his head in his folded arms. 

My sniffling went louder when the officer who handcuffed me slammed the cell door as soon as I flopped on the floor. My figure trembled as I instinctively hugged my knees like the man on the other cell.  

I closed my eyes, praying that this should be a dream, that I would wake up from it, and that it would be over the second I opened my eyes. However, before I could finish my mumbling, with my eyes still closed, I heard a subtle “psst” on my left.  

My left eye opened about a millimeter while shifting slightly to where the sound came from. The man I mentioned earlier was looking at me, though his head was still leaning on his folded arms.  

His hair was jet black, his eyes were droopy, his nose was exquisite, and his lips were perfectly pink and glossy. 

He cautiously placed his index finger on his lips, gesturing to be hushed. I slowly nodded, not knowing if I could trust my mouth to speak any longer—because the last time I spoke, it led me here. 

My confirmation made him smile. His eyes went to the officer on the other side of the room, who was busying himself with something on his desk. When the officer seemed not to care about our small movements, the man in the other cell turned his attention back to me. 

“Hey,” he carefully whispered, “what brings you here?” 

I shrugged, mirroring his position, leaning the side of my head on my folded arms. “Long story.” I couldn’t help the sigh escaping my nostrils.  

The man noticed my distress state and sent a comforting smile.  

He had the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen in my life. 

“What about you?” I decided to ask when he caught me staring at him longer than anyone should have. 

He also shrugged, heaving a deep sigh, “Long story.” 

I shut my eyes and bit my bottom lip to stop the tempted snicker that wanted to escape my mouth—he was mocking my response earlier. When I opened my eyes to look at him, he was already staring at me with a gentle smile on his face. 

My cheeks started warming from his gaze, and he probably recognized the pink shade on my skin, so he silently chuckled.  

We were just looking at each other as if trying to analyze the dancing orbs staring at one another. I was trying to figure out why I turned calm from just looking at him when in reality, I was an awkward person who would stutter at a simple “How’s your day?” at the grocery store. 

I opened my mouth to ask for his name, but a loud voice boomed around the corner. The man on the other cell snapped his head to the culprit at the same time as I did.  

A man was wearing a neat tuxedo, his almost grey hairline receding. He looked at the man I was talking to with an anxious look while he examined his state: sitting on the dusty cement floor, he looked dehydrated, and beads of sweat were visible on his forehead from the warm summer weather. 

The intruder turned his head to the officer who escorted him to where the tiny prison cells were—and he was also the one who banged my head on the table to handcuff me and the officer who was guarding the cells. “Do you know what you have done?” 

The two officers were both silent, their intimidating appearance slowly fading. 

“San,” the man on the other cell suddenly called. I turned to look at him, and his gentle smile was gone. He shook his head at the man in the tuxedo asking him to stop talking. 

The man in the tuxedo—or San, sighed in defeat, not before glaring at the two officers. “He’s the youngest son of General Byun.” 

I furrowed my brows; General Byun rang a bell in the deepest corner of my brain. I swear in my pathetic life that I heard that name somewhere. 

However, before I could rummage through my already messed-up brain, I heard the man on my left distantly sighing as he stood on his feet, dusting his pants. 

The police officers, who looked terrified, immediately ran to open the cell door on his side. They removed their hats and bowed their heads, apologizing for keeping him in there. He must’ve been from a noble family. 

I kept my mouth shut while watching the scene before me. I was not moving a single muscle, too scared that I might do something wrong again, which would lead to much more trouble. 

I watched him walk towards San, who was holding the door open for him with my lips pursed. 

I didn’t even get a chance to get his name. 

Before he could walk out the door, I noticed how tense he was and turned on his heels. His eyes met mine, somewhat with sympathy. He stood before the officers, whose heads were still hanging low, ashamed of what they had done with this man. 

“She’s coming with me,” the man announced, which made me gawk, and San looked at him like he suddenly had two heads connected to his neck. 

“B-but sir—the girl needs to be detained until the chief—” the police officer who slammed me on the table stammered, rejecting the man’s proposal to let me out of this prison cell and to go with him. 

The man just smiled, reaching out to the cell door and shaking it impatiently for the officers to open it. “I will let my father know about it. I’m confident that he will have a conversation with the chief should a problem arise.” 

San hastily walks towards the son of the General, holding his arm gently. “Sir, you cannot mingle with a criminal.” 

The man let out a psssh, waving his hand to San as if he uttered the most ridiculous thing in the world before nodding to one of the officers to open the cell door. “She was with me when I climbed the wall and managed to run away when you whistled like there was no tomorrow.” 

When both officers hesitated to open the cell door, the man shook the bars again, creating a loud rattling noise. The officer who slammed my head on the table scrambled to his feet, clumsily looking for the set of keys hanging on his pants. 

When the door finally opened, I was still unmoving on my spot, on the dusty cement floor, hugging my knees while I watched four men wait for me to get out. 

As I previously mentioned, my survival skill was set to zero. I may be academically competent, but I knew nothing if it was unrelated to my studies. 

That was a huge problem. I know. 

My friends in school were trying to help me cope with the outside world. However, the sources have been limited as I was only allowed to get out of the house if it was for school matters, or chores. I had to beg my parents to let me go out with my friends on weekends. 

I probably took a while, lost in my thoughts, when the man held out his hands, sending me his gentle smile again. “Come?” 

Sparing my last functioning brain cell, I got on my feet, my hand reaching out to his. When my palm touched him, a smile slowly spread on my lips. My anxiousness gradually faded, replaced by a gentle breeze that soothed my nerves. 

San walked in front, the police officers trailing just a few steps ahead as they accompanied us to the off-white bumpy vehicle parked by the curb. 

As the officers bowed their heads for the trouble, San opened the door, and the man still holding onto it tugged my hand. The corner of his lips quirked up as I looked at him with round, probably scared eyes. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured me, his thumb unconsciously rubbing a comforting circle on the back of my hand. “I will just send you home safely.” 

Relief crashed through me, and I believe he noticed it because he chuckled huskily.  

Once I was seated in the leather seat of the vehicle, I realized that he was still holding my hand. I smiled, a bit awkward when I tried to slip off his hold. 

“Oh,” he gasped when he realized what I was doing, “my apologies.” 

His touch lingered on my skin when I removed my hand from his hold. Embarrassed, I placed it on my lap, fiddling with my fingers, waiting for him to speak. 

I heard San clearing his throat in the driver’s seat, waiting for an instruction from the man beside me. The latter turned his head to look at me, and I was instantly allured.  

“Where to, my lady?” 

I ignored the blush from the way he addressed me, shifting my attention to San, who was waiting for a direction of where to drive me. 

San scrunched his forehead when I recited my address and the landmark near my house. Nevertheless, he started the vehicle and drove off the curb. 

My palms started to sweat when I looked out the window. The establishments on the road that I knew by heart were not there. Instead, there was soil and tall grass all around. 

“Apologies, madam,” San met my eyes through the rear-view mirror, “but the road you referred to does not exists I believe.” 

“H-huh?” Was all I could mutter before the man beside me clicked his tongue in annoyance. 

“And could you enlighten me as to why you did not tell it beforehand?” the man beside me huffed. His gentle exterior had faded, and he had turned to show his authority. 

“S-sir Baekhyun, I—” 

Baekhyun. 

The man’s name was Baekhyun. 

“She’s already terrified, San,” Baekhyun explained. “The last thing I want to happen is for her to regret coming with me.” 

Unfortunately, I had the cheek to blush at his words, though I managed to ignore that my face was likely crimson red. “I—it’s fine,” I muttered awkwardly. The interruption made Baekhyun turn his head in my direction. 

I gave him a tight smile before asking San to pull over so I could get out of the vehicle and familiarized the surroundings to find the correct path to my house. 

Baekhyun followed my suit when I stepped out, his shoe wear gravelly strides over the pebbles on the ground to walk beside my figure.  

I was starting to lose my mind when I realized that the area was just grass—no houses or buildings. It was pure, empty land. 

“Holy shit,” I mumbled under my breath and was already on the verge of crying. 

Where the hell am I? 

“Holy—what? I beg your pardon?” 

Baekhyun was eyeing me concerning how I was yanking my hair out of my scalp, also probably saying things I wasn’t supposed to say... again. 

However, it wasn’t long until his fingers circled on my wrists, pulling them away from the strands of my hair. I let my muscles relax, slowly unclutching my fingers away. 

That made Baekhyun smile. He nodded his head, “We’re alright. You're alright—you’re safe.” 

“Sir?” San’s voice interrupted the scene, though it went unnoticed by Baekhyun, who was still looking intently at me. 

“Speak to me?” His hand that was holding my wrist travels to my palm, wrapping his fingers around my hand. 

“I—” I choked on my words, having to take a deep breath to speak clearly, “are we in Jung district?” 

Baekhyun nodded his head, confirming my question. “Yes, we are.” 

Mentally crossing my fingers, I asked him another question and hoped that he would say the answer I wanted. “Jung district, South Korea?” 

That made him furrow his brows and look at me like I just muttered the craziest thing he could ever hear. “Were you referring to the southern part of Korea?” 

“Sir, I think we should consider going back to the police station,” San walked briskly to pull Baekhyun away from my reach. “She could be an enemy from that country and knows who you are.” 

“W-wait—” I screeched; my chest started to heave from the information that I was absorbing one by one. Espionage. Empty land. The old model of vehicles. Enemy. The southern part of Korea... 

“Do you mind telling me the date?” My mind started to get lightheaded, but at the back of my mind, I was hoping this was just another weird dream I would get from time to time. 

“Today’s the second day of September,” Baekhyun answered, snatching his arm from San, who tried to pull him away. “Are you feeling unwell, sweetheart?” 

Despite the nausea, I shook my head and continued to confirm my assumption. “Wha—what year?” 

Baekhyun’s frown deepened, clearly not comprehending the point of my questions. Despite that, he still answered my question, and fortunately, I could catch it before my vision blacked out. 

“Year 1920.” 

Oh, shit. 

My forehead felt damp pressure as I slowly regained consciousness. The muscles of my fingers were flexing on their own, and I took a deep breath before shifting my eyelids open. 

I blinked a couple of times before visualising the face hovering over my lying figure, eyeing my current state with concern. 

Baekhyun. 

“Hey,” he stopped me when I tried to sit up. His hand held my shoulder, pushing me back on the spring mattress I was lying on. Once the back of my head hit the soft cushion, he removed the damp cloth from my forehead, brushing the hair stuck on my skin. “Would you like some water?” 

I contemplated for a few more seconds before remembering the things that I’d been told before I passed out. I quickly sat on the mattress once again, ignoring the puzzled look on Baekhyun’s face when I hurried away from his touch until my back reached the wall. 

“I’m not dreaming?” I croaked, feeling my body tingled from another panic episode, “I—I’m supposed to be in the attic. Who are you—where am I?” 

Baekhyun sensed my fear. He withdrew his hands, which were trying to reach out, and instead raised them in front of him, showing me his empty palm before giving me an assuring smile. “Calm down, darling. I will not hurt you.” 

“I—” I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, “who are you?” 

“My name is Baekhyun. Byun Baekhyun.” he answered calmly, his voice trying to soothe my nerves. 

“Baekhyun,” I repeated. Although I’d already heard his name from San, it felt nice to say it from my lips. “Where—where am I?” 

“We are in my house, though I have to apologize for bringing you in the staff’s quarter as I can’t be seen carrying an unconscious lady to my chamber.” 

I quickly scanned the room and saw a couple of bunk beds across the room. I had to bite my bottom lip when it trembled. “And you said that it’s year 1920?” 

Baekhyun nodded his head, stating the obvious. “Is everything all right? Speak to me. I could help.” 

“I’m—” I snivelled; my body trembled in fear. Baekhyun finally found the courage to reach for my hands, holding them in his.  

“Shush,” he squeezed my fingers, attempting to calm me, but when my body wouldn’t stop quivering, Baekhyun had done something that I wouldn’t expect him or anyone to do for someone you barely knew. 

He bent his neck so he could press his lips on my knuckles. His lips—they were damn soft, and it lingered on my skin even when he pulled away. 

When he brought his eyes to meet mine, he smiled, his eyes forming a crescent shape as he did. “I’m here. You’re all right.” 

Though slowly, I finally managed to nod as I was still hesitant about my surroundings. But somehow, despite being a stranger, he could shift every fiber in my body with serenity. 

“What’s your name?” Baekhyun climbed on the mattress, sitting a few inches away from me, and surprisingly, I didn’t hurry away this time. 

I uttered my name as I watched his orbs dance around my facial features. The way he repeated my name and sounded made me even more captivated. 

“Can you tell me where you are from?” Baekhyun continued, “I could send you home. Otherwise, I can send someone to look for your family.” 

“I’m—” I took a deep trembling breath so I would not have to break again—hopefully, “I’m going to sound crazy, if you want to throw me back to jail, that’s fine—I understand you, but—” 

“You’re rambling, love.”  

I was this close to passing out again from the endearment he kept using on me. I thought that having my name would make him call me out differently, but I was wrong. 

I leaned forward to his ear, and he immediately understood what I wanted to do. He tilted his head so I could reach him quickly. I whispered, “I’m not from here.” 

When Baekhyun leaned back to meet my eyes again, I expected him to look confused, but he looked calm and nodded his head. “I realize that.” 

His response made me widen my eyes. I gasped, “you do?” 

“Yes,” he replied, “I would always wonder on the road and this is the first I saw you—” 

“No!” I cried out, burying my face in my hands. “That’s not what I meant.” 

Baekhyun held the sides of my head, gently tilting my head up so he could see my face. “I’m sorry, it was not my intention to make you distress. But can you please clarify what you meant with your statement?” 

I thought San was just waiting on the other side of the door as he burst inside the quarters with my wail. “Sir?!” 

Baekhyun hissed, peeking behind his shoulder to glare at San. “I told you to not come in.” 

“No—wait, I’m sorry,” I hiccupped, touching Baekhyun’s arm to calm him down as he looked like he would tackle San any second—poor man. 

Baekhyun heaved a sigh before telling San to close the door behind him. The old man stayed by the door as Baekhyun waited for me to clarify my previous statement. 

“Baekhyun,” I started, and the man nodded, urging me to continue, “please don’t freak out, okay?” 

Because I’m already freaking out. 

He nodded his head again, this time interlacing our fingers together. 

“I was at the attic in our house when I heard this weird noise coming from a wardrobe, so I went to look for the source of sound. Then something weird happened, the light went out and the noise went from the wardrobe to whatever was behind me and it made me hid inside the wardrobe instead of running away, or screaming for help.” 

Baekhyun frowned upon hearing my choice of action—hiding in the wardrobe instead of running away. Nonetheless, he continuously nodded his head as he acknowledged my words. 

“Then I waited for a few minutes before opening the wardrobe, and when I stepped out, I was already here, in this place.” 

I glanced at San, who had a baffled expression like he was trying to analyze the information I’d just given, and Baekhyun, who kept looking at me with a frown on his face. 

“Say something,” I nudged his hand, which was holding mine, making him blink before clearing his throat. 

“Apologies,” he has an odd expression that I can’t read, “are you saying that you’ve been kidnapped? Are you from the other country?” 

Hearing the other country, San widened his eyes, and panic appeared on his face. “S-sir, I warned you, she might’ve been a—” 

“No–no,” I shook my head, quickly denying his allegation, “I’m not a spy, or some sort.” 

“In that case...” Baekhyun mumbled. My heart felt like it dropped when he untangled his fingers with mine. “What are you?” 

“I’m just an ordinary human being,” I explained, my voice getting wobbly. “I’m a citizen of this country—well, not in this year, but I am.” 

This time, San decided to speak up, “Not in this year?” 

I was never good at interrogation, especially when I could not voice my opinion in our home. If I did, my parents would never fail to invalidate my emotions. 

I didn’t even know I was already crying until Baekhyun tried to wipe my cheek with his fingers. I automatically leaned away from his touch, and I think that confused the man as I was not rejecting his advances until now. 

“Just let me go,” I croaked, my eyes pleading to Baekhyun as I told him, “I promise that I will not bother you any longer, or talk about how you helped me out of prison, just—please...” 

The quarter was silent for a few minutes, and my heavy breathing and my sniffling could be heard across the room.  

“Where will you go?” Baekhyun inquired, finally deciding to speak up. “If you don’t know where you are, where will you go?” 

I whimpered, “I—I don’t know. I’ll figure it out, I guess...” 

To say that I was disappointed was an understatement when Baekhyun nodded, moving away from the mattress so I could get out of it as well.  

When my feet touched the floor, that was only when I realized that I was bared foot all along. There were already scratches on the soles of my feet from walking since I got here, but I ignored the stinging pain and continued to walk out the door. 

I was pretty lucky I didn’t bump into someone on my way out. I sneakily glanced around the lot, and it was huge. The staff’s quarters were separated from the manor built in the lot's centre.  

It was already dark outside, probably because I had passed out, and it took a couple of hours before I regained consciousness. The night posts on the road were few and not as bright as they were in my time. The road was still dirt with pebbles. 

If this was near the Jung district I grew up in, I would know all the alleys and everything, but there were none. 

It took me approximately an hour and a half to walk before the police station could be seen, but instead of going straight to the cell again, I turned the other way, hoping to find the wardrobe. 

After another fifteen minutes of walking, I reached the old wardrobe again. My heart was pounding in my chest as my hand reached out to the knob, opening it. 

It was empty. What did I even expect? A magical light bursting out of the furniture? 

I was standing on my feet, unmoving. I was slowly realizing and analyzing all that stuff in my head. 

Was the police station the same institution that was built near our house? 

If that were the case, my feet would automatically bring me here by heart. This was where my house should be. 

I broke like a dam. Violent sobs came out of my mouth when I saw the empty lot. Even our neighbors’ houses were not there. As if to add salt to my wounds, the rain poured. Though I didn’t want to go inside the wardrobe again, I had no choice but to find shelter while waiting for the rain to stop. 

I’ve always been afraid of the dark. Since I was a kid, I always had a nightlight with me. My parents... they never bought me a new one. 

My father once gave me a small light bulb that I could plug directly into the outlet to have light at night, while my precious younger sister got a ballerina lamp. 

I remember my mother scolding me when the electricity went out due to bad weather, and I screamed from the top of my lungs when darkness illuminated my small bedroom. “You’re not a baby anymore! You need to toughen up! You’re scaring your little brother!” 

I was only eight at that time. 

I never have someone on my side. No one to look out for me. Except for my friends in school. They’ve been there for me. And they gave me an adorable duck nightlight as a gift when we were freshmen. I still have it, using it, and will forever treasure it. 

I was only used to my friends who were worried about my well-being; hence, when Baekhyun acted like he would save me from my miserable thoughts, it was awkward, but I let my guard down because he made me calm. 

I wouldn’t blame him for acting distant when I narrated what brought me here.  

Who in their right mind would believe I came from a wardrobe like the one in The Chronicles of Narnia, where the Pevensies hid and met Aslan? 

I somehow wished it would be like that. It’d be much easier to handle than being stuck in the 1920s when a war was going on, and everyone would identify you as a spy. 

Holy crap, what if they’d capture me as one? Would I be executed? 

I still wanted to go to university, get my bachelor's, master's, and hopefully PhD. 

Thousands of thoughts ran through my head at once. I clutched the side of my face while weeping in extreme anguish, regretting the days I wished I wasn’t with my dysfunctional family. 

Although I was nobody’s favorite in our household; I’d still take that over this. 

As I took another deep, trembling breath between my sobs, I felt a calloused, warm hand over my cold one. My shoulder jumped from the sudden contact; my head whipped up attentively.  

“Hey.” 

Baekhyun’s finger wrapped around mine as I whimpered upon recognising him. A sense of comfort rushed through my nerves even though I barely knew him. 

He tugged on my hand to make me step out of the wardrobe, and I simply set my feet on the muddy ground. I could feel his gaze as he eyed me with concern when I didn’t stop sobbing, though it was more of a hiccup. 

“What were you doing in there?” Baekhyun asked when I calmed down a little bit. I raised my head and looked him in the eye, seeing San a few steps behind him. 

I unconsciously squeezed his hand holding mine, and my heart couldn’t help but flatter when he tightened his hold, tugging his bottom lip with his teeth in anticipation of my answer. 

“This is the wardrobe I was talking about,” I peeked behind my shoulder to look at the strange furniture. “I swear to God, Baekhyun, I—” 

“Slow down,” Baekhyun cut my sentence off, “I apologize if I let you leave earlier, but I promised that I’m not going to hurt you and let someone hurt you.” 

I jutted my bottom lip, wiping my eyes with my other hand as I sniffed. Though I stayed silent, I found comfort in his words. 

Baekhyun gently called my name, his thumb consolingly rubbing at the back of my hand. “I apologize for what happened earlier. It was an unjustified action of mine. I should not have let a lady wander alone at this time of night.” 

I nodded, accepting his apologies as I tried to look him in the eye without making my orbs quiver in fear. “I swear, I—I’m not joking around.” 

“About what?” Baekhyun inquired, frowning. 

“About what I’ve said earlier,” I choked a sob, sniffling like a child. “I really am not from here. I came from this furniture—” I swung my hand to gesture at the eerie wardrobe behind me, and Baekhyun’s eyes shifted to look at the antique for a second.  

“Would you mind expounding what you meant, sweetheart?” he straightened his back as he bent to see my face clearly, though he was not that tall—just a few centimeters taller than I was. 

I think San also became curious about why he took a few steps forward so he could hear my explanation clearly. 

I pulled away my hand from Baekhyun, rubbing my face tiredly before exhaling heavily. I was preparing myself in case Baekhyun and San thought I was some sort of insane being or, worse, a spy from another country. 

“My house was supposed to be built in this lot,” I pointed my thumb over my shoulder again, indicating the empty lot behind me, “and this antique wardrobe was in our attic even before my parents purchased the house, and no one bothered to get rid of it.” 

Baekhyun nodded his head but said nothing, so I decided to continue. “As I've said earlier, I hid inside when I heard something and when I opened the door, I was already here.” 

I saw San from the peripheral, tilting his head and his eyes squinting on the empty lot I was referring to, but I tried not to look away from Baekhyun’s intense gaze. He was studying my face as if tracing any sign that I was lying. 

“I’m not lying, Baekhyun, I swear,” I croaked, noticing how his orbs wavered upon hearing his name coming out of my mouth. 

He blinked after a few moments, his tongue peeking out to moisten his bottom lip. “When you said that this is where your house was supposed to be and yet you’re not from here...” he exhaled through his nose, eyes closing for a second before looking directly into my eyes as if begging me to tell the truth. “Will you be able to shed light on that?” 

Finding courage that Baekhyun was finally willing to listen to me without the thought that he must’ve identified me as an enemy, I nodded my head, not before clenching my fingers from what I was about to say. 

“You said that we are currently in year 1920?”  

Baekhyun confirmed by nodding his head, and San, intently listening, nodded.  

I continued, “Before I went inside the wardrobe, I checked my smartphone—” I saw how Baekhyun scowled, but I didn’t bother explaining, though I took a note at the back of my head that it’d be for another conversation. “And I clearly remember, the date was 20th of February...” 

Baekhyun and San widened their eyes as if it were the most bizarre thing they’d ever heard in their entire life. 

But I bet that was not the oddest thing they’d hear tonight. 

“And the year was 2020.” 

I was back at the staff quarters in Baekhyun’s house. I was seated on the mattress, having been awoken earlier as I waited for San, whom I could hear talking to other staff about how I was his niece and working for the Byun family alongside them. 

I stared at my feet, all dirty and wounded from walking all over the place barefooted. However, I didn’t mind the stinging pain a bit. All I knew was how my heart was lightened up when Baekhyun said that he’d take care of me and instructed San to take me in while we looked for an answer on how to return to where I came from—originally where I came from. 

“Do you believe me?” I whispered while sitting beside him inside their vintage vehicle while San drove us back to Baekhyun’s house. 

He looked at me puzzlingly at first, making my heart feel like it dropped to my stomach, but it quickly vanished when he smiled gently. “One thing my grandmother told me when I was still a child that remains in my mind up until today and that is: To believe the impossible.” 

I heard San calling my name from the door, cutting my thoughts from an earlier event. I looked up from my feet as he stood by the door with a basin and towel. 

“Sir Baekhyun asked me to give these to you,” San walked beside the mattress as he set the basin with warm water and handed me the towel. “He wants to apologize for not being able to give these to you himself. They can’t be seen here, particularly when other workers are finished in the main house.” 

I gave San a kind smile, lifted my feet from the floor, and soaked them in the warm water. I sighed in relief when my aching muscles and skin touched the warmth.  

“Thank you, San. And don’t worry about it. I’m more than grateful that you let me stay here, and that’s more than enough.” 

I hurried to the side when San asked if he could sit beside me. He plopped himself, staring ahead, seemingly in deep thought as I waited for him to ask questions that I knew he was keeping in, as Baekhyun could be pretty scary when he was around him. 

“Is it improper of me to ask you if you really are from the future?” he inquired. His voice was low and quiet as if he didn’t want anyone to hear our conversation. 

I smile sadly, my index finger picking on my thumb—a habit I have had since childhood when I’d be too scared or nervous. “I also couldn’t wrap my head about it.” I tried to cover up my nervousness with an awkward laugh, but it failed. It just sounded like I was about to pee my pants any minute now. “Is it improper of me to wish that this is just a dream?” 

For the first time I’ve met San, though it wasn’t that long, he chortled, and it made me beam, flashing him a toothy grin. 

“What does the future look like?” San asked before turning his head to the side to yawn. I looked at him fondly. He was such a hardworking man, especially for someone like Baekhyun, who was strict with his employees. 

I shrugged, lifting my feet from the basin to wipe them with the towel I had been given a while ago. “There are no flying cars, don’t worry.” 

My response made him cackle. He wiped his teary eyes with his hand, shaking his head while calming himself down. “I apologize if what I’m about to say would be inappropriate. However, I have not thought that you are hilarious from the way you cowered in fear when talking to Sir Baekhyun a while ago.” 

I scrunched my nose, “I’m an awkward person to talk with, but I don’t know... I feel comfortable with you. Though you really did give me a fright when you claimed that I was a spy.” 

“I apologize for that Miss, I—” 

“No worries,” I shook my head, cutting him with an unnecessary apology. “But yeah, Baekhyun was obviously caring and kind, but could be quite intimidating, not the bad kind of intimidating, but you know—” 

“He really is,” San agreed, nodding his head, probably to not make me feel wrong from talking about his employer. “But he’s a good man. He was just raised to be stern, although he can be mischievous on occasions. Do you want to know why he was in the prison this afternoon?” 

I was dying to know and glad I didn’t have to ask anyone about it. I quickly nodded, signaling San to tell me what had happened. 

“Sir Baekhyun did not agree to meet the lady his mother was forcing him to marry—” Oh, boy... if I said that I didn’t feel anything upon hearing that information, I’d be a liar. “Consequently, he ran and hid for the whole day. He came back in the middle of the day and rather than coming through the gates, he climbed on the wall at the back of the main house to furtively get to his chamber.” 

I hummed as an answer as I could not form a proper sentence to acknowledge his words. Though I had no relation with Baekhyun, it felt weird having some sort of connection, unconsciously, towards him. 

Given my lack of response, I thought San would end the day and retrieve me to his room as it was getting late, but he must’ve been that interested in the idea of me being from their future. 

“What is a smartphone?” 

I felt my lips spread a wide smile as I explained something I was passionate about. I’d love to discuss the technology that will have developed a hundred years from now. It was late, but I didn’t mind. 

It was going to be a long night. 

The next few days, I slowly grasped the routine of working for the Byun family. It was exhausting, as there were three separate houses, though I only attended the staff quarters and the guesthouse. 

The guesthouse was mostly occupied by relatives and associates from other cities, whom I was informed to stay away from. 

I haven’t seen Baekhyun since he decided to take me in and delegate my well-being to San, who was probably the friendliest and most understanding person I’ve ever met in this dimension—what I liked to call it, secretly. 

At first, I was downhearted that Baekhyun didn’t reach out to me or even send a message to San like he did the first night I came here. Still, when San advised that Baekhyun was in trouble about the marriage stuff with his mother’s friend’s daughter, I slowly came to realize that I was just someone whom he helped and he had other things that he needed to take care of. 

“How old is he?” I asked San when I followed him to the garden built at the back of the main house. It was late afternoon, and I had nothing to do except follow San around like a good niece. “I mean—if you don’t mind me asking.” 

San flashed me a kind smile before inspecting a Gloriosa Daisy bed to ensure the gardener did his job correctly. I also learned that San had been the butler of the Byun family for almost twenty years. “Sir Baekhyun had just turned twenty last May.” 

I nodded my head, my lips forming an O shape. “He’s older than me as I expected, but we’re almost the same age.” 

“It’s impolite to ask for a lady’s age, thus my lips will be sealed.” 

I laughed at San’s statement. My booming voice echoed across the empty garden. The old man’s eye crinkled in delight upon seeing my reaction. 

“I’m eighteen, San.” I told him my age anyway. I shrugged my shoulders when he looked at me like he was expecting me to be twelve or something. “Anyway, isn’t twenty too young to be married? Or is it normal in the olden days?” 

San grimaced at my choice of words but laughed nonetheless. “It is indeed young to get married at such age, but it’s considered as norm, particularly to prominent families.” 

I was about to respond to San’s statement when my eyes travelled to the main house. There was a large window facing the garden, and there he was, Baekhyun, standing inside the house. He was wearing a white dress shirt as he stared at us in the distance. 

I raised my hand and subtly waved at him, a tight smile on my lips. San realized the absence of my response, so he turned his head to see what other things caught my attention. 

He immediately bowed his head upon seeing Baekhyun inside the house, looking at us blankly. Baekhyun didn’t even bat an eyelash to San and kept his eyes on me before turning his head away and walking off from the window. 

I sighed dejectedly, turning to San, who just shrugged his shoulders. “Sir Baekhyun is having a difficult time with the arrangement he’s requiring into.” 

I nodded understandingly, starting another conversation with San, who instantly shifted his focus to the topic I was discussing. 

I felt bad complaining about my life situation when Baekhyun, who was undoubtedly a good person, was forced to do things against his will. I understood that we probably wouldn’t be able to talk for quite some time or until San and I find a way for me to get back where I came from. 

I never thought that that would be the last day Baekhyun would stop distancing himself away. 

I have been awoken by soft knocks inside the quarter, where I have been staying for a week. It was the smallest room, but San defended that they preferred me to be alone instead of mingling with other household employees. They would instead not take the risk.  

I truly understand, though, and I honestly don’t mind. I also have the smallest bedroom among my siblings, so it didn’t matter. 

Squinting my eyes, I propped on the mattress using my hands as I peeked at the mantel clock on the bedside table. It was two in the morning. 

San had never knocked this early to instruct me on a chore, so I was confused. What could he possibly need to wake me up in the middle of the night? 

Nonetheless, I grumpily threw my body out of the bed after lighting up a lamp before walking to the door to open it. 

“Hey.” 

I was half-asleep and wasn’t prepared to see Baekhyun, in his sleepwear, standing on the other side of the door. His closed fist was raised in the air, and he was about to knock on the wooden door again. 

I blinked several times, trying to get the sleep away from my eyes when I heard 'sBaekhyun's melodious laughter again after days of not interacting with him. 

“Did I wake you up?” His husky, deep voice made my insides do some flips.  

I shook my head, opening the door a bit wider so I could step out. “It’s okay...” 

I felt his eyes on me for a while, and when I found the courage to look up to his face, his lips formed a smile, eyes crinkling as he did. “Do you mind coming with me for a bit?” 

Without any hesitation, I nodded, closing the door behind me as I followed his steps outside. It was summer, but at night, the breeze was slightly cooler than during the day. 

We walked for almost ten minutes until we reached the garden at the back of the main house, where Baekhyun had seen San and I talking in the afternoon. He led me to the hedge maze on the further side of the lot. 

“Don’t worry,” Baekhyun suddenly chuckled, snapping me out of my thoughts. I looked up to him with wide eyes, not knowing what he meant by the unexpected assurance. “These shrubs are not that tall. You can scream for help if you think I would be doing something inappropriate.” 

I opened my mouth to deny his assumptions of my thinking, but no words came out. Hence, I just waved my hands desperately.  

Baekhyun’s eyes twinkled as if he was adoring every reaction of mine. He shook his head and turned on his heels to continue walking in the labyrinth. 

“How are you doing?” he inquired, looking ahead of him. 

I glanced at his side profile, pursing my lips, when I noticed the bags under his eyes. “I’m doing alright... I guess. San has been helping me a lot.” 

Baekhyun nodded his head, a tight smile on his eyes, and something irked me when it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m glad to hear that. I apologize if I’m not around these days.” 

“Oh—no, no,” I laughed nervously, scratching the side of my head as I tried to think of a better response to that. “I—I’m thankful enough to you for letting me stay here. That’s—that’s... uhm... more than enough. You don’t need to apologize.” 

Baekhyun darted from my eyes to my lips, which I nervously bit. When I cleared my throat, he blinked like he was snapped out of his trance. He forced a cough, chuckling awkwardly. He tipped his head to the side, asking me to walk beside him. 

“Say,” Baekhyun murmured, our footwear making a pat sound against the ground. I peered on my side to let him know that he had my attention. “Hundred years from today, does people, even then, are being imposed on what they should be doing—or who they should be with?” 

My lips automatically turned downwards, knowing his situation from San. I sighed before shrugging my shoulders. “Well—it’s different. Rich and influential people still do have those circumstances, but they have a bit more freedom, I think? People have become more open on different status in life, culture, education—that kind of stuff.” 

Baekhyun heaved a sigh upon hearing that, and I couldn’t help but feel guilty. I could’ve just said yes to make things livelier, but that would mean I’d be lying. 

“Then I can take for granted that you have the benefit of freedom?” he asked, his tone a bit playful to lighten his damp mood. 

I crinkled my nose, wrapping my arms around my figure when a cold breeze passed. “Don’t get me wrong, I came from an extremely ordinary family, but no, I do not have the pleasure of enjoying any kind of freedom.” 

Baekhyun scowled, his steps coming to a halt before turning his head to glance in my direction. “Are you being arranged to someone as well?” 

I snorted, shifting my weight to my other foot. “I could barely go out of the house to hang out with my friends, what more on dating.” 

“Dating?” he breathed, uncertain of the word's meaning in my vocabulary. 

“Oh—” I gasped, murmuring a soft apology. “Dating is a term we used when someone would be going out—most often with the intention of evaluating each other's suitability as a partner in a future intimate relationship.” 

Baekhyun took a few seconds before nodding to acknowledge that he understood what I meant. “That’s what dating is...”  

I hummed and followed his steps when he continued walking on the path again.  

“Then you have yet experience dating, I presume?” 

His question caught me off guard, and I couldn’t think of a better response but to laugh awkwardly—inside my head, pathetically—my shoulders curling forward in embarrassment. How I wish... 

And I could only hope I didn’t say that out loud. 

But I think I just did... by just taking a glimpse of Baekhyun’s facial expression. He had a twinkle, almost mischievous, look in his eyes; his lips quirked up. 

“Anyway,” I smiled at him, feeling comfortable conversing with him when San assured me several times that Baekhyun was a good man and I should not have any doubt about him. “Is everything okay—are you alright? Not that I mind, but is there any reason why you called me at this time?” 

Guilt flashed through my nerves again when his shoulder visibly deflated as he sighed. Why do I always have to say the wrong thing at the wrong time? 

“I was worried about you, to tell you honestly,” Baekhyun quavered, tilting his head to look at the stars in the dark sky. “I feel terrible that I have not reached out when I was the one who told you to stay here.” 

I smiled sadly, my hand itching to pat his shoulder, but I decided to keep my hands to myself. “You don’t need to worry about that, I’m doing just fine. It’s sad that we have been trying to get me back to my time to no avail, but San has been taking care of me like I’m his real niece or something.” 

I ended my sentence with a laugh to make things lighter, and I was glad that it made him smile. 

“That is delightful to hear,” Baekhyun beamed, and I couldn’t help but mirror his smile. 

We were just looking at each other, and our orbs danced at one another’s features. Unknowingly, he raised his hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. When his finger touched my cheek, I finally realized his action. 

At the same time, I tensed, not disregarding the heat that was starting to creep up from my neck. 

“You have a ravishing smile,” he commented; the tip of his finger lingered longer than it should’ve been on my skin, leaving a burning sensation on the largest organ of my anatomy. 

Baekhyun must have noticed my speechlessness as he retrieved his hand and tucked it on his back. He scratched the back of his neck with his other hand before pointing back to the staff quarters. 

“Let’s get you back. You’re freezing, and I don’t want you catching a cold.” 

I was a hundred percent sure that I was not freezing. In fact, my whole body was on fire. 

Ever since that night, I would expect a knock on my door in the middle of the night. I got used to it to the extent that I’d be pacing back and forth when the mantel clock would hit two o’clock, and he was not here yet. 

There was one time when it was almost three in the morning, and I thought he’d not come, so I decided to go to bed. I needed to be up early in the morning, or San would be in trouble—and I did not want that to happen. 

I was asleep when I didn’t hear him knocking on my door. It was when I felt fingers on my forehead, brushing my fringe, and then it travelled to the bridge of my nose. I let out a grunt before forcing my eyes to open. There he was, sitting on the edge of the mattress as he stared at me at my messiest state. 

I was so embarrassed that I instantly tried to turn my back on him and cover my face with a blanket, but his movement was swifter than mine. He was chuckling huskily as he fought for the blanket from my hands. 

“Why do you shy away, my little dove?” 

I’ve gotten used to the nicknames he used every time he saw me. At first, I would blush like mad and stammer. Though now, my face still flushes, I somehow manage to live with it. 

It was another night of strolling with Baekhyun. He was slowly getting bolder as he suggested walking outside the hedge maze and sitting on the ground around the bed of flowers. 

My arms hugged my knees, and I stared straight ahead while Baekhyun leaned on his arms as he looked at the dark sky. 

“Darling?” 

I hummed, leaning the side of my head on my folded arms to look at him. Without tearing his eyes away from the sky, he inquired, “Would you like to dance?” 

My brows furrowed at his sudden request. Nevertheless, I got up on my feet and dusted my bottom as I held my hand out for him to take. He had a broad smile as he took my hand in his, hoisting him from the ground as well. 

“I don’t know how to dance, but I’d say yes anyway because I know you’ll bug me for the rest of my life if I rejected your offer,” I grumbled, playfully rolling my eyes before following his lead. He had a hand raised in the air for me to take, and a hand was positioned on my waist. 

Baekhyun laughed at my sentiments, “I’m still astounded on how you were this adorable little sheep I’ve saw in the prison to becoming a lioness who would pounce on me when she gets a chance.” 

I mumbled an apology when I stepped on his foot. I gave him a stinky eye at his metaphor but couldn’t stop the bashful smile on my lips. “I told you, I’m awkward at first, but I’m talkative when I get comfortable.” 

A gasp escaped my lips when his hand on my back pulled me closer to his chest. Baekhyun leaned his head on my temple as he continued to lead the dance. We swayed slowly and gently; I could feel his heartbeat on my chest, his breathing in my ear. 

Finding comfort in our position, I courageously leaned my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes when both arms tightly wrapped around my figure. 

“Please tell me I’m not the only one whose feeling it,” Baekhyun whispered, his nose buried in my hair. 

Since the first day... I’d like to say. But instead, I just wrapped my arms around his torso, nodding my head to confirm his words. 

I reluctantly pulled away when Baekhyun loosened his arms. When I tilted my chin to peer at him, he slowly leaned, and I thought he would smash his mouth on mine without thinking—but I was glad he didn’t. To be honest, I was not ready. 

“Pardon me,” he pursed his lips, scooting his face a few inches away from mine when he saw my widened eyes. “I’m certain that you are the only thing that fills my head these days... and it’s insane.” 

“Why—” I cleared my throat when my voice cracked, “why me? I’m not—” 

“Why not you?” 

I squealed when Baekhyun, who must’ve lost control, briefly dived to place his lips on my left cheek. It was short, but his soft lips left a tingling sensation on my cheek.  

Why not me? I have no idea. I’ve never been someone else’s choice before. I’d always be left out. To say that this was strange is such an understatement. I truthfully don’t know how to react nor know what to say. 

Baekhyun nudged my cheek with the tip of his nose to snap me out of my trance. He looked at me worriedly as he pulled away and held my face in his hands instead. That didn’t help my racing heart as I was fully aware that he could now see my crimson-red face, and most probably, my ears were blushing as well. 

“Would you like me to give you some time to think?” 

Dumb-founded, I nodded my head as I could not find myself to utter any word. I couldn’t be more thankful when Baekhyun smiled and walked me back to the quarters with his hand still on the small of my back.  

I was wonderstruck, blushing all the way home. 

San knew what happened, and he was skeptical when he asked what I’d been doing, saying that I had been yawning for the whole day. I stuttered, trying to find an excuse for my lack of energy. 

“I never doubted that you came from the future, but you are clearly being dishonest right now, Miss.” 

He looked so disappointed that I had no choice but to tell him the truth: that Baekhyun had been knocking on my door in the middle of the night for a quick stroll around the manor, and what had happened with his employer's son. 

San looked so shocked that he did not expect my answer. “You’re bluffing.” 

I chewed my bottom lip and sighed, “I wish I am.” 

I followed him around the guest house again. A few staff members were dusting the place, as someone would visit the Byun family in a few days.  

San had to go to the corner and grab a chair to sit on. “This is going to be a disruption. Sir Baekhyun, he—he needs to obey his mother’s order.” 

I pursed my lips before nodding my head. “I know, San—I know, and I also need to go back to where I came from. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve helped me a lot, but this is not where I belong.” 

San nodded understandingly; his fingers rubbed his temple as he thought. Before we could even say another word, we were startled when the staff in the area could be heard fussing. 

I peeked over my shoulder and saw Baekhyun walking in the door. A neat dress shirt and a waistcoat adorned his torso, and black slacks on his bottom.  

My eyes automatically widened, my head snapping in San’s direction, who looked surprised simultaneously, in panic as I was. But unlike me, San quickly stood up from his chair, bowing his head in respect to Baekhyun. 

I forgot I was supposed to be an employee and was about to walk away to pretend I was busy dusting a piece of squeaky-clean furniture when San grabbed my arm, forcing me to bow my head. I did, exaggeratedly, which was embarrassing as heck. 

It was the first time I saw him during daylight since I met him at the police station. He looked unbelievably dashing. 

“Sir Baekhyun,” San greeted him. His voice was professional like he didn’t just scold me for sneaking out with one of his bosses. “Is there anything I can help you with?” 

Baekhyun didn’t even smile when he pointed his finger directly at me. “I need her to come with me for a moment.” 

My head whipped to San’s direction, shooting daggers on the side of his head with my eyes as if to beg him not to let me go with Baekhyun, who freakin’ stole a kiss on my cheek, sniffed my hair, and made my stomach do all those gymnastics shit my younger sister loved doing. 

All the other staff looked so surprised, but instead of looking suspicious, they looked worried that Baekhyun was asking for me, probably thinking that I had done something that got on his nerves. 

San looked hesitant for a second or two before nodding his head with a smile on his face. “Right away, Sir.” he placed his hand on my shoulder, pushing me gently to walk in Baekhyun’s direction, who was already holding the door open for me to follow him. 

I kept my chin dipped as I followed him to the staff’s quarter. He opened a door where cleaning materials were placed and closed the door behind him after he checked that no one followed nor saw us. 

“Did I—did I do something wrong?�� I stammered; my voice was so small as I cowered down by his intense gaze. 

I watched him put his hand inside his waistcoat, fishing out a familiar machine from its pocket. I immediately gasped, snatching my smartphone from his hand. “W-where did you get this? Oh, my God, I thought I didn’t bring it with me.” 

Baekhyun’s stoic face finally faded and was replaced by the smile I was familiar with. “You dropped this when you went unconscious by the road. I had forgotten that I had this with me. I apologize, love.” 

I gulped at his endearment choice for the day. I froze on my spot, not moving a muscle, and I bet he noticed it. He chuckled huskily; his hand went to pat my head.  

Clearing my throat, I forced myself to look at his eyes, “Thank you for this. But you could’ve just waited until everyone’s asleep before giving this back to me.” 

Baekhyun just shrugged his shoulders, and a smirk formed on his face. “Perhaps it was a rationale to see you.” 

I playfully rolled my eyes, shaking my head, slowly getting used to his advances.  

“You looked beautiful under the moonlight, but you look absolutely stunning when the rays of sun are kissing your skin, love.” 

I shook my head, my lips caught between my teeth to prevent myself from smiling too widely. I shifted my attention to my phone, my heart clenching for a second when I pressed the button on the right side. The thought of it not working was about to kill me.  

I took a sharp breath when the screen lit up. The infamous Bited Apple logo appeared on the screen. I peeped under my lashes to see Baekhyun’s reaction, and his mouth was open as he stared at the device in my hand. 

“Wha—what is that?” he gawked, taking a step forward to look at the device closely, our arms brushed at the proximity.  

“It’s a smartphone,” I answered, showing him the screen when it finally loaded to my lock screen. I was not even surprised when the signal showed No Service. Like, hello? 

“It’s like a combination of computer and a telephone,” I explained, showing him the contacts I saved. “You can also use this for taking pictures, videos, and stuff.” 

I raised my head to look at him, and his expression indicated that he was having difficulty understanding what a smartphone was all about. 

I scrunched up my face, feeling guilty to feed him such information when he was probably not familiar with those functions in the first place. I knew a mechanical computer was invented in 1822 but was not digitalized until 1942. So, I wouldn’t blame him for looking lost. That was my bad. 

I opened the camera app and quickly snapped a picture of him. The photo came out a bit blurry. I grinned widely before showing him the image, and his jaw dropped. 

“This thing has been invented?” he gasped, thrilled to see a photo of him within seconds. 

“Yes!” I squealed; my head turned to glance at him, only to find out he was already looking at me. 

My smile slowly faltered when I watched his orbs dart from my eyes to my mouth. I gulped audibly, not finding the will to scoot away. “I—I thought chivalry is a must in the olden days?” I breathed on his face, but he didn’t even flinch.  

“I have never done this before,” he responded, inching a bit closer, making me hold my breath and my hands instinctively hold on his sides. “I have never felt something like this before.” 

Baekhyun exhaled through his nose before closing his eyes and opening them again when he leaned his forehead on mine. “I have been drawn to you since the day I saw you at the police station. I have been trying to elucidate why this is happening to me. You are the first person I would love to see in the morning, and the last person I would love to be with before I go to bed.” 

It was a short brush of our lips, but I felt the spark when they touched. A flash of warmth was spreading through my whole body.  

I let out a deep, trembling breath when Baekhyun’s hand travelled to my back, caressing it over the fabric of my blouse before it went to cup the back of my neck. It was clear that he wanted to smash his mouth on his mind, but it was apparent that he was stopping himself from doing so. 

“Say something,” he fretted, nudging my nose with his. 

“Baekhyun, I—” I croaked, “what do you want me to say?” 

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but his eyes still looked at me gently. “That you feel the same way... do you?” 

My lower lip quivered, torn into two things: If I’d be honest and say that I was indeed attracted to him, and even though I felt the same way, I still needed to return to where I originally came from, that I didn’t belong here. 

“Baekhyun,” I whimpered, “I need to get home... my family—” 

“Stay here,” Baekhyun instantly responded, cutting me off; both of his hands cupped my cheeks, making me look directly at his orbs, “with me—stay here with me.” 

I pressed my lips together, contemplating whether staying would be a good idea. Will my family look for me? Will they even notice that I was gone for quite some time? Will they even care? 

“May I love you?” 

Without thinking much further, I nodded my head, a tear escaping my eye when I realized that I made an impromptu decision that would affect my entire life.  

Baekhyun broke into the biggest smile I’ve ever seen; he giggled breathlessly as his thumb caressed my cheek. He slowly leaned forward, tilting my head to get better access to my mouth. 

My friends in school told me that the first kiss would feel like butterflies in your stomach, but heck no, it felt like someone fired up fireworks in my nerves, making the tip of my fingers and toes curled from exhilaration.  

Baekhyun’s lips were soft. That was all I could think about initially, but when he started nibbling my pillows, I began thinking differently. He knew what he was doing, and he was good at it. 

I was a bit disappointed yet glad when he decided to pull away. I fluttered my eyes open, seeing how he looked at me with his lips all red and glossy. 

“I thought it was just going to be a peck,” I panted, rubbing my mouth with the back of my hand. “That was my first kiss, you know.” 

“Forgive me, my love.” Baekhyun had the cheek to laugh at my statement, dipping his head down to steal another kiss. “That was the closest to heaven as I will ever get.” 

San, once again, knew what happened. Not exactly what happened, but he had his eyes squinted when I came back to the guest house actually to help them clean the place. 

I avoided his eyes the whole time, but when we were done with the task, he asked me to stay behind. “I beg you to tell me that my thoughts are incorrect,” he pondered, and his jaw went slack when I let out a nervous laughter.  

I honestly thought that what happened would create such an unpleasant atmosphere, but gladly, nothing really changed—except for the fact that Baekhyun became more open to requesting to see me during the day. 

“Baekhyun—” I tried to push him away when I was asked to deliver a meal to his chamber because, apparently, he was not feeling well. It was true, though. He fell while riding a horse with his older brother and twisted his ankle. It wasn’t that bad, but he used it as an excuse to be pampered. “Someone might see.” 

It was the first time I entered the main house. It was huge, and having no sense of direction, I got lost several times. Fortunately, another staff member saw me struggling with a tray and seemed to be losing my mind. She was kind enough to point out Sir Baekhyun’s room. 

Baekhyun was able to walk, though limping; it wasn’t as bad as I expected. It had been three days since the accident, so I assumed he was already healing.  

That explained why he was able to jump off his bed when I knocked and asked permission to come in. He almost tackled my figure as soon as I set the metal tray with his food on the table near the floor-to-ceiling window. 

“May I have kiss, please?” he pleaded, almost batting his eyelashes at me. I turned my head side to side, as if someone was in the room, before leaning in for a quick peck. 

I was relieved when that seemed to satisfy his need. 

Often, though, he’d still knock on my door in the middle of the night. There were times when I’d be exhausted and unable to get up and open the door for him. Hence, I once told him that the doors in the staff quarters didn’t have some sort of lock, so he could come in directly to my room. 

He was hesitant at first, saying that someone might get the wrong idea, but then he remembered that only San knew about us. 

“I trust San,” I told him, hurrying on the mattress to give him space to lie down. “He won’t tell anyone.” 

Baekhyun hummed, shifting on his side, observing my tired state, droopy eyes, and hugging the blanket on my body. “I speculate that San already had the wrong idea. He has vivid imagination.” 

I let out a breathless laugh, tilting my head to look at him. The corner of his lips quirked up upon noticing my attention to him. I already knew what he was thinking, and it’d not be the first time he’d discussed it. “Let’s not give San’s receding hairline another reason to step back.” 

It was Baekhyun’s turn to laugh. However he didn’t even try concealing his boisterous laugh I had to cover his mouth with my palm. “Baekhyun!” I hissed, scowling at him. He nodded, fingers wrapping on my wrist to pull my palm away from his mouth. 

He kissed my knuckles, and I thought he’d put it back on my side, but he kept holding my hand in his hand and even placing our hands on his chest. “I will patiently wait, my love.” 

I smiled widely, inching closer to place my lips on his. I am glad to say that I finally got used to being affectionate and intimate with him. Although, we haven’t gotten that far yet. 

Baekhyun exhaled through his nose as he tangled his finger in my hair, grabbing the back of my head to tug me closer. I grunted before pulling away. He looked confused for a moment, but when he realized how deep I was looking into his eyes, his frown faded away.  

“Thank you,” I said under my breath. 

“For what cause?” 

“Everything,” I murmured. “I’ve always thought that I’d be unlove for the rest of my life. You’re the first who made me feel wanted.” 

Baekhyun knew my story regarding my family. He was surprised but did not say anything against them. Instead, he assured me that he’d never leave my side. “No matter when you need me, I will be there. I will never leave you. I will always come and find you.” 

His movements were fast. In a matter of seconds, his lips had crashed into mine. I was taken aback that my breath was caught in my throat, fingers clenching his back underneath the fabric of his shirt. 

My heart felt like it was going to jump out from my chest when his hand came in contact with my chest, squeezing my bosom. I sensed the lump in my throat; my hand went from his back to his face, pushing it away from mine.  

“Baekhyun—Baekhyun,” my voice was stern, trying to wake him up from the daze he had snapped out of. 

He closed his eyes, retrieving his hand away from my chest. “I’m—I’m sorry, that was not my intention.” 

I felt his panic, caressing his face,, which seemed to calm him down as he leaned his head on my palm. “It’s okay—you’re okay. I know you didn’t mean it. I was just surprised; you did nothing wrong.” 

“I did! I—” 

I shushed him, gathering the small amount of courage I had to place his hand on my chest again. Baekhyun widened his eyes, tugging his hand back, but I held it in place, smiling at him.  

“I’m sorry that I’m not ready to do it yet,” I smiled before drawing my lower lip between my teeth. “But this is okay, you can touch them—you can touch me.” 

Baekhyun was initially reluctant, but with a kiss on his forehead to let him know that I was confident, he started exploring my features as a woman.  

My sleep was long gone; my head was laying on Baekhyun’s chest as he buried his nose in my hair while we talked about things in our lives, mostly him asking about my life ninety-nine years from now. 

“I really thought people from the olden days were conservative,” I admitted, “no offense, though.” 

Baekhyun playfully snarled. His hand, which was on his back rubbing in circles, suddenly pinched my side, earning a shriek from me. “I really hope you would stop saying olden days. You are making me feel old when I’m only twenty.” 

I scrunched up my face, tilting my head to kiss his chin. “I mean, you’re probably older than my grandparents.” 

He rolled his eyes before pretending to leave the bed. 

“I’m kidding,” I laughed, pulling him back and hugging his torso like a bolster, tangling my legs with his. 

His hand automatically reached my back, resuming his previous action. “I do wonder what historians had written about our time. It’s normal to make love. I did it the first time when I was fifteen.” 

I bolted out from his touch, sitting up on the bed while I looked at him with wide open eyes. “Are you serious? I could barely order in a restaurant without stuttering when I was fifteen.” 

“It would be different in your time?” Baekhyun inquired, genuinely curious and ignoring the fact that he had just told me his sex life had started when he was fifteen.  

I cleared my throat, shrugging my shoulders. “I mean—my life was only between school and home. Others did the same as you, I think. I just—you know, assumed that it was marriage before sex in this century.” 

Baekhyun wriggled his brows on me, sitting up on the mattress. “Are you asking to marry me?” 

I gawked at him, grabbing the pillow at the edge of the mattress and chucking it to his face. “Excuse me?” 

He chuckled, snatching the pillow and placing it out of my reach. He asked me to lie down again, which I did, but not before sending him a glare. 

“What are people like in 2020?”  

I yawned, finally getting lulled from how Baekhyun massaged my scalp with his fingers as I lay on his torso, my face tucked in the space of his neck. “Almost the same, but we dressed differently, and people became creative in dyeing their hair.” 

I felt his lips on my forehead as I closed my eyes, scooting closer to his side if possible. 

“Government allowed people to dye their hair?” 

I grunted, “Even males dye their hair pink.” 

“A man with pink hair?” Baekhyun marveled, “who would do that?” 

“What?” I chuckled lowly; I was this close to dreamland. “I think it’s adorable. If possible, I’d dye your hair pink so I can recognize you anywhere I’d go.” 

I heard him scoff, hugging my body tighter.  

“No, thank you.” 

It wasn’t that long before San informed me that Baekhyun’s mother was suspicious of his son’s whereabouts. I was confused initially because Baekhyun had been staying in the manor since we’ve been together, but when San reminded me that the youngest son of Byun's family was a mischievous creature, that hit me.  

There had been idle talk among employees that their Sir Baekhyun had been having an affair with someone on the premises. Some employees would quickly turn their heads on me since they had been noticing Baekhyun would always ask for me, and some wondered who it might be. 

Instantly, I asked San for help with the situation, and he immediately told me that he would handle the employees’ whisper. “May I request that you two tone down? If you could pass it on to Sir Baekhyun, he won’t handle my suggestion lightly when I’d say it directly to him. I’ll talk to other maids about this.” 

Surprisingly, Baekhyun agreed when he came over to my room. He said that it would be our only choice to be together. He assured me that he would handle his mother and would find a solution to our dilemma. 

When things were getting better after a few weeks of not seeing each other, and his mother was finally forgetting Baekhyun’s odd behavior, I accidentally bumped with the, as San informed me, the chief of the police station where Baekhyun and San first saw me. 

I wasn’t supposed to be in the guest house, but one of the staff had eaten something terrible and was advised to rest for the rest of the day. As San was already occupied, I offered to cover her tasks while she rested. 

The chief was eyeing me like a hawk as if he was examining my face like I was some sort of criminal. To which I was identified the first day I arrived in this century. 

I still couldn’t get a hold of Baekhyun. Consequently, I asked San to deliver the message to him instead, as San was always in the main house for his duty as the main butler for the family. 

That night, Baekhyun finally knocked on my door at two in the morning. I opened the door wide to let him in before closing the door behind us.   

Baekhyun smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ears. “Hey.” 

Without wasting time, I told him what had happened with the chief and how uncomfortable it made me that someone outside the manor had recognized me. 

“Those two officers must’ve sketched my face and showed it to the chief,” I gasped, nearly choking a sob. “They probably didn’t believe it when you said that I was with you. They saw me idling near the wardrobe, Baekhyun! What if they—” 

Baekhyun shushed me by tugging my arm so he could pull me to his chest. He ran his fingers on my hair, knowing it would always calm me. “It’s going to be all right. I will talk to father once I get the chance and ask for help. Please wait for me.” 

Turned out that it was too late to ask for help. The chief came over the following day, going straight to the lady of the house: Baekhyun’s mother. 

My heart was beating so fast when San told me that Lady Byun was asking for me. I almost cried on the spot because I already knew what would happen. 

Despite having soft facial features, Baekhyun’s mother was terrifying. Her voice was stern, and her eyes were like those of a lioness ready to eat her prey anytime, and that prey was obviously me. 

My head was hanging low as I stood in front of Lady Byun sitting on a chair in the middle of a room. An employee was also standing in the corner with worried eyes on me. 

“Remind me to dismiss San for letting in a criminal in this household,” she said, her voice cold and void of emotion. 

Instantly, I shot up my head, looking at her with wide, pleading eyes. “No!” 

She raised her eyebrows at me, unable to believe that I just raised my voice. I quickly bowed my head to apologise, “I apologize, madam. I didn’t mean to shout. But San didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Are you saying that my judgement was unjustifiable?” she taunted. 

I shook my head, “T-that’s not what I meant, madam. I—I will take full responsibility and will leave the manor in an instant.” 

She scoffed, smiling bitterly. “You are aware that my husband is the General, am I correct?” 

I shut my eyes momentarily, letting out a deep trembling breath. “Yes, madam.” 

“And if the people heard about the Byun family letting a criminal on loose, do you know what would happen?” she argued, not letting me go quickly. 

I nodded, my eyes getting watery from the overwhelming confrontation I didn’t want to be in. “I—I understand very well, madam. I will surrender myself to the police. But please,” I croaked, forcing myself to tilt my chin to look at her in the eyes, “San didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Her eyebrows twitched. “If San is dismissed, I would like you to know that it’s your liability.” 

I raised my hand to wipe a tear that escaped my eyes, whimpering in agony. Everything was going so well. I finally accepted the vast possibility that I wouldn’t be able to go back to my time and spend the rest of my life here—with Baekhyun.  

Then this happened. 

San was frantic when he saw that I was being escorted by two police personnel. He tried to stop them, but when I gave him a smile that didn’t reach my eyes, I told him that it was okay and also thanked him for everything he had done for me. 

San called my name for the last time before I was asked to enter the police vehicle, and when I turned my head to him, the old man cupped his mouth as he teared up. I wept as I mouthed an apology for bringing him into this mess.  

The ride was filled with my sniffles, and the two officers were in silence as they listened to me cry. I didn’t even see Baekhyun before I got to be imprisoned for something I was forced to identify with. I wasn’t even able to say goodbye, at the very least. 

I just want to hug and kiss him and tell him that I'm sorry to leave when I promised him I’d stay. 

When the vehicle came to a halt, I waited until one of the officers would open the back seat door where I was seated. I was staring into space and moved robotically when I stepped out. 

However, before I could even take another step, I heard the stomping of footwear getting louder, like it was getting near where I was. I peeked over my shoulder and saw Baekhyun sprinting to reach my spot. 

The officers instantly tried to stop him from getting near, but I had no idea how it happened because the next thing I knew, my arm was hurting from Baekhyun’s tight grip, and my lungs were burning from dashing away from the officers who were whistling like mad as they chased us. 

Baekhyun had told me that he knew everything about the place, so I wasn’t surprised when he took a turn to a forest—trees around the area for more manageable hideout. We were both panting when we stopped running and being the most unathletic student back in school, and I sounded like I was fighting for my life. 

Baekhyun embraced me, and his musky scent instantly calmed my nerves. I started sobbing as I wrapped my arms around his torso, and I could hear him sniffing as well. 

“I’m sorry, my love,” Baekhyun kissed the side of my head, tightening his arms around me. “I did not expect the chief would talk to my mother.” 

I nodded my head understandingly. 

“Father is still out of town; I have not gotten the chance to ask for help. I’m sorry I was not there,” Baekhyun croaked into my ear, “I apologize, my love.” 

Before I could utter a response, we pulled away from each other when the officers' distinct voices could be heard.  

We continued to run to the other side of the forest. When we saw that we were at the edge of the forest and the road could be seen, Baekhyun wanted to turn around, knowing how dangerous it would be to be seen running on the main road.  

However, before I could follow Baekhyun’s steps, I heard a highly subtle purr of a cat. I stopped in my tracks, eyes scanning the forest to look for the familiar sound.  

Baekhyun called my name when he noticed I wasn’t following him any longer and grabbed my hand to continue our mission. 

“Baekhyun—wait—” I pulled him back, asking him to turn his voice down. “I could hear something.” 

He scowled but tried to focus on the background noise if there was indeed a cat. 

My eyes widened when a vivid meow, and a tricolor feline showed himself from behind a tree. 

It was the stray cat that I adopted! 

The cat looked straight into my eyes, as if trying to communicate with me. He remained unmoving for a while before walking towards the main road. 

“No,” Baekhyun tugged my arm when I stepped forward to follow the kitten. “The main road is not safe. We cannot risk—” 

“Baekhyun, that’s my cat!” I responded with a high-pitched voice. “We were both inside the wardrobe. I didn’t know that he was here.” 

He gritted his teeth, contemplating if he should let me follow the animal to the main road. With his jaw clenched, he exhaled through his nose, holding my hand as we walked to the main road and followed the cat’s steps. 

The tricolor animal was sitting in front of the wardrobe on the side of the road like he was waiting for me. His vast eyes were on me, and his tail was moving slowly. I stared at the cat for a few seconds until he jumped inside the wardrobe, where—surprisingly—the door was opened. 

He kept looking at me and then meowed when I didn’t move a muscle. Was he asking me to get inside the closet? 

I snapped out of my thoughts when Baekhyun squeezed the hand he was holding. I looked at him, and he had a sad smile, like he was also noticing how the cat was asking me to get inside the wardrobe. 

Am I going back to my time? 

“Wait—Baekhyun, no,” I choke a sob, “I promised that I’ll stay, I’ll be fine in prison—” 

“My love,” Baekhyun cupped my face, pressing his lips on my forehead. “It’s going to be all right. Your safety is my priority. I also promised that I would always come to find you, didn't I? Can you wait until then?” 

“Baekhyun,” I whimpered, nodding my head while hugging him tight, afraid that it would be the last time I’d see him once I got back to where I came from. “I love you.” 

He smiled sadly, placing a kiss on my lips. A tear escaped from his eye. “I love you, too.” 

I was a crying mess when we finally let go of each other. When I went inside the wardrobe, I looked at him for the last time, giving him a smile despite my tear-soaked cheeks. “Please don’t be in love with someone else,” I joked, playfully squinting my eyes on him. 

“Please don’t have somebody waiting on you,” he responded with a mischievous grin. 

I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from sobbing. I nodded my head, giving him a last smile before closing the door of the wardrobe. 

February 20, 2020, 02:00 AM, the date and time reads. 

I was still sitting inside the wardrobe with the door open when I felt my phone in my hand. I remembered that I had left it inside my room in the staff’s quarters. 

Was everything just a dream? 

But it was too vivid to be just a dream.  

Remembering the picture I took of Baekhyun, I opened my gallery to see if it would be there, but it was nowhere to be found. And when I examined my clothes, I was back in my Winnie the Pooh-printed pajamas. 

I cried myself to sleep that night, not because of my parents' constant fighting or the fact that no one came into my room to comfort me, but because I was slowly being convinced that it was indeed just a dream. 

Two years had passed, and I was about to finish my second year in university. 

I decided to major in Aerospace Engineering and minor in Physics. My parents weren’t opposed to the idea, especially when the word Engineering was present in my course. It was goddamn stressful, but I was having fun. I loved learning, which was one of the few things I was good at. 

I met new people at uni, but was still in contact with my high school friends. Due to our busy schedules, we rarely got to catch up. 

Wendy, whom I met freshman year, introduced me to her circle of friends. Her friends weren’t all nice, but they were usually bearable. So, I decided, why not stick with them? 

Irene, the oldest among us, scolded Chaeyoung when the latter, once again, winked at a guy who passed by our table in the cafeteria. 

“Do you really have to do that to every person you see who has a dick?” Irene hissed, grabbing Chaeyoung’s chin to make her look straight ahead. She was about to break her neck after following the guy she winked at. 

I peeked over my MacBook to see the chaos at our table. Though it wasn’t new since this usually occurs almost daily, it was still entertaining to watch. I shook my head before focusing to the case study I was working on. 

Chaeyoung groaned, slapping Irene’s hand away from her face. “Can you have me my little fun? I’m already stressed enough with schoolwork, please don’t add up.” 

Irene scoffed, rolling her eyes on Chaeyoung. “Please! I’ve never seen you read a single paragraph in your course.” 

“You did not just say that!” Chaeyoung dramatically gasped. “I do my part in studying, thank you very much. Just because I’m not a nerd like her, you would say that I’m not taking my studies seriously.” 

Without even looking up from the screen of my Mac, I commented, “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” 

“That’s not nice, Chaeyoung,” Wendy clicked her tongue, glaring at the youngest at the table. 

Instead of apologising, Chaeyoung rolled her eyes, opening her smartphone to spend time on her precious social media profile.  

I smiled at Wendy, shaking my head to let her know that I didn’t take it to heart. At first, I was offended whenever Chaeyoung would call me a nerd or sometimes a pushover, but after spending time with them for almost two years, I could say that I got used to it. 

Seulgi, majoring in Performing Arts, came to the table panting as she ran across the hall. I passed her my tumbler while she caught her breath. “Thank you,” Seulgi hugged my head, a habit she had of hers. 

“So, guys,” Seulgi began, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand after she chugged the iced cold water in my tumbler. “I think I’ve got a date.” 

I gasped, abandoning my Mac momentarily to give Seulgi my full attention. Since I was the busiest among us when it came to studies, I would not always hang out with them and I I didn’t know all the details about their lives. 

I once heard from Wendy that Seulgi liked her friend. They’ve known each other since they were kids. However, as pessimistic as Chaeyoung was, I learned from her that this guy was not interested in any relationship. 

“Of course, I already asked him out,” Chaeyoung easily responded, rolling her eyes, when she was asked how she knew this detail. “He was cute, alright, but his friends are way more handsome. He’s just rich, so I asked him out.” 

Seulgi had been so afraid to confess her attraction towards this friend, but Wendy and I have been bugging her to do so. Irene... is just being Irene. Do whatever you want, she said. 

“And?” Wendy pressed on, eager to know the details from Seulgi. I nodded, smiling slyly to let her know that I was also interested to learn. 

“Well—it wasn’t like a date as in date,” Seulgi explained, chuckling nervously. “But since it was his senior year, there will be a small celebration in their house tomorrow. He asked me to come...” 

“That’s nice!” I squealed while Chaeyoung rolled her eyes. 

“I thought he really did ask you to spend the night with him or something.” 

Irene had to slap Chaeyoung’s arm so she could shut her mouth and stop ruining Seulgi’s moment. 

Chaeyoung whined, rubbing the spot where Irene hit her. “It’s true, though. I mean, good for you, Seul, but he doesn’t date! He told me himself.” 

That made me scowl, “Why is that, though? Previous bad relationship? Else, he swings for the same team.” 

Chaeyoung, the most exaggerated one she was, clapped her hands, catching the attention of other students. “I thought about that, too! I mean, his hair is pastel pink to begin with! And oh! I heard from someone that he believes that he’s a reincarnation of ancestor!” 

We rarely agree on things, but we were unstoppable when Chaeyoung and I do. Not when I was interested in after-life matters. 

“Okay—okay,” Seulgi laughed, raising both hands to stop me and Chaeyoung from uttering another nonsense. “He is not gay, alright? And he just has his beliefs that we all need to respect. He was named after his ancestor because of family matters, there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

I jutted my bottom lip, and guilt crashed through me. “Sorry, Seul. I got excited.” 

Seulgi patted my head to let me know that she didn’t mind. Instead of apologizing, Chaeyoung made a face, turning her focus back to her phone. 

“Anyway,” Seulgi continued, “would you guys like to come?” 

Irene didn’t even waste a second to shake her head. She didn’t like being around men. “No, thanks.” Chaeyoung pretended that she didn’t hear Seulgi’s offer. That leaves Wendy and me in the fraction.  

“I mean,” Wendy shrugged, “I’ll go. I don’t really have anything and since you asked, I’m assuming you need someone to be with?” 

Seulgi nodded her head eagerly, faking a cry for Wendy. “Thank you, Wen! You really are my friend.” 

I thought I was safe since Wendy had already said that she’d go with Seulgi, but when I felt two pairs of eyes burning at the side of my head, I let out a sigh, shaking my head. “I have a case study to work on.” 

Wendy made a face, closing the lid of my Mac, “Yeah, a case study that isn’t due in five weeks.” 

Seulgi held my arm, giving me a pleading look. “Please, please. I’ll buy you coffee. I need all the support I can get. This would be a once in a lifetime chance, please.” 

Sighing in defeat, I nodded, finally agreeing to whatever it may be. “Iced white chocolate mocha with eight pumps of mocha sauce, stirred whipped, and extra caramel drizzle.” 

“That’s not a coffee, that’s diabetes in a cup.” Seulgi commented, earning a glare from me.  

“Then have fun with Wendy and your pink hair crush.” 

“I’m just kidding!” Seulgi laughed, opening the lid of my Mac so I could continue my work. “Text me your order, that’s too long for me to remember.” 

Seulgi didn’t specify if we needed to dress up or if there would be a dress code for this small celebration of her friend. Wendy and I talked on the phone, and she was stressing out because she remembered Chaeyoung’s words clearly about how rich this Seulgi’s friend was.  

“Oh, my gosh, what if we arrived there in our jeans and dirty sneakers, then the people will be in their tuxedos and evening gowns?” Wendy babbled on the line. I was still on campus, having a lecture to attend, and had to go straight to the address Seulgi sent on the group chat she created specifically for this event. 

I laughed at Wendy’s state; I could hear how she was rummaging in her closet. “It’s going to be fine. We are just going to be there for Seulgi, not to impress anyone. If there would be dress code, we’ll just pretend to be one of the servers then.” 

That made Wendy laugh. I heard how she plopped on her bed, groaning on the line. “What are you wearing, anyway? You’re going straight from uni, right?” 

I examined my clothes for the day, mentally slapping my face when I chose to wear something so casual, forgetting that we had to attend something in the evening for a moment this morning. “Uh... jeans, loose white t-shirt under a plaid shirt—and oh! An old Nike shoes.” 

Wendy’s whined was loud from the other line. I laughed at her reaction, and I had already expected this kind of reaction from her—or anyone else. “Out of all days of the week, why did you dress up like a trucker today?” 

“Probably because I had a lecture that goes from nine in the morning until five in the afternoon. I need to be comfortable throughout the day, ever thought of that?” 

Wendy continued to whine, and I couldn’t do anything but shake my head, laughing at my friend’s reaction. “Just wear any clothes you have. We’re going to be there for Seulgi, that would be the only purpose of our presence. To make you feel better, we’re supposed to look bad so Seulgi would look much prettier. I’m done here and I’ll be on my way in a few.” 

I had to take the subway and a bus just to get to the address we were supposed to be at. It was almost an hour of travel using public transportation, though the waiting time for the subway and bus was already included in that time frame, but still. 

I opened the Map app on my phone as Wendy and I looked for the address. We decided to meet at the bus station, and I was glad we did. It was awkward to walk in a suburban area by yourself, not when the neighborhood was really that high-end. 

“I wonder how Seulgi became friends with this guy,” I pondered, looking at my phone for directions. 

Wendy linked her arms with mine, needing support as she decided to wear wedge sandals. She didn’t listen and chose to dress herself appropriately. Although, it was a good thing to be presentable. I just felt out of place. It was my fault, anyway. 

“I heard that Seulgi’s ancestor had been working for their family since the nineteen hundred.” Wendy answered, pointing to a massive gate that was the pin destination on my phone. Finally. 

When we pressed the doorbell, the gate was opened as we mentioned Seulgi’s name. Once we got inside, I saw a house that was too familiar. My voice was stuck in my throat as I stared at the structure longer than I was supposed to. 

When she noticed that I wasn’t responding to her comments about the manor, Wendy called my name and looked over her shoulder to see me frozen on my spot. “Are you okay?” 

I slowly turned my head to her, my index finger pointing to the house in front of the lot. “T-that’s—” 

“Oh,” Wendy glanced to where I was pointing at. “The security right there said that it’s where the staff stay. All carts were taken so he said that we need to walk to the main house.” 

Right then, my eyes started scanning the place slowly. It was the Byun’s manor. There were some changes, but I knew the place by heart. My heart was thumping inside my chest loudly, and my fingers felt clammy. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Wendy held my arm; concern was evident in her voice. “You look like you’re going to pass out.” 

I forced myself to nod, giving her a tight smile. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit tired.” 

She looked hesitant at first, but when I grabbed her arm to walk to the main house, she threw her doubts away. She admired the manor as we walked further into the lot. 

I was honestly not feeling well. My head was spinning a little bit, I felt nauseous, and I wanted to convince myself that it was just a coincidence, that there was no way in hell that it was true, that it did happen in real life. 

Not when I finally truly accepted that it was just a dream. 

Not when it took me years to finally move on. 

When we were ushered into the main house’s dining hall, a few people were already conversing with one another. I kept my mouth shut as Wendy tried to look for Seulgi, who was already here as she informed me. 

I sat in the corner of the dining hall while Wendy looked around the place. I felt so out of place, but it didn’t bother me much since I focused on how I would cope after this.  

Acceptance and moving on were the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life so far. I was unable to eat or drink water. I was unable to function or sleep. I didn’t know where I would go. I didn’t have someone to talk to about this. 

No one will believe me. 

It was a process of healing, accepting that it didn’t happen, and moving on from the emotions that were built. It took me a long time, but I did it.  

But when I wanted to be there for a friend, I didn’t know it would harm me more than I could ever imagine. 

I was snapped out of my thoughts when a butler caught everyone’s attention. It was a special occasion, and the family would open the library hall, where antiques from their ancestors hundreds of years ago were kept. 

Wendy was an Art major; she got excited and pulled me up from the chair I was sitting on. “Seulgi said that some of their ancestors were great at painting canvases. Let’s go and see!” 

I could only smile at her, unable to say anything.  

The butler would patiently explain something when someone asked. I followed Wendy around when I noticed Seulgi was not here with us. “Oh,” Wendy shrugged, rolling her eyes playfully, “she’s with him. She said that she’ll introduce us later.” 

I stopped in front of the framed document and hung on an empty wall. It was a land title. I was about to walk away from it when something caught my attention. 

Was that our home address? 

Before I could react further, Wendy hollered my name, asking me to come over as the butler would finally show the paintings she was excited about. 

Art is stupid. That was what my dad said, but it was not. Every canvas was beautiful. Even though I knew nothing about art, unlike Wendy, I still appreciated each piece displayed in the hall. 

I was walking further down the hall, and I didn’t even notice that I’d been separated from Wendy. From paintings, old portraits were displayed on the other side of the hall. My lips slowly spread into a smile when photos of the old city were shown. 

Observing each photo briefly, my feet brought me to the end of the hall, where a black-and-white photo was taken. There was too much noise, but I knew that face. 

“San,” my mouth fell open as I let out a deep, trembling breath upon recognizing the man who helped me. That’s San. I couldn’t be wrong. I know his hairline, as offending as it might be. And it’s him. 

My chest started to heave, but I forced myself to continue observing the portraits. Another photo caught my attention. It was three images merged into a single frame. It was a picture of the wardrobe that was in our attic. It was captured on an empty lot. The next photo was of the same lot, but a house was being constructed on it. The last picture was when the house had been built completely. 

It was my parents’ house. 

My hand raised to cover my mouth as I let out a sob. I couldn’t believe this was happening right now. Then I felt my phone vibrate in my hand.  

It was a notification from iCloud that the syncing of my files was completed. I was confused, as I clearly remembered that I turned off the feature to automatically sync my files. I opened the backup storage and saw the newly added photo. 

It was a blurry candid photo of a man in a white dress shirt and waistcoat. 

Baekhyun. 

It was the photo I was looking for two years ago. It did exist. 

Then I saw something hung on the wall at the very end of the hall; however, the lights weren’t turned on, and there was a stanchion. Despite knowing that it was prohibited for a reason, I decided to follow my instinct and walk towards the stanchion. 

A painting was hung. Though this side of the hall was dimmed, I could still see the messy painting. A figure hugging her knees, her feet bare, and her face hidden on her folded arms. Fingers peeked out, and the ring bought from the streets of Hongdae was visible. 

The painted character was a weird interpretation, but it was my Winnie the Pooh pyjamas.  

That was me. 

In the prison cell where I first met Baekhyun. 

“Baekhyun,” I whimpered, closing my eyes for a moment, trying to remember his voice, his touch, everything about him. 

When I opened my eyes to admire his messy work once more, I noticed the handwriting framed below the painting. I leaned a bit to read what it said. 

“My thoughts will echo your name until I see you again. 

I’ll spend forever wondering if you knew... 

I was Enchanted to meet you.” 

I finished reading it with a deep, trembling breath. My shoulders were starting to shake from wanting to wail so badly, but I knew I needed to keep it in as I didn’t want to create a scene where a lot of people around. 

I wasn’t even able to calm down when I heard my name being called. The voice was Seulgi’s. I plastered a smile, wiping my soaked cheeks with my hand before turning around. 

There he was, eyes were already locked on mine. 

His eyes whispered, “Have we met?” 

Across the room, his silhouette started to make its way to me. 

My eyes followed his every movement, from how his eyes danced around my face to his pink hair bouncing with every step. 

I could feel my bottom lip quiver when he stood right before my eyes, our orbs locked to each other as Seulgi introduced us. 

“He’s the friend I was telling you about!” Seulgi gushed, and I felt terrible I didn’t even acknowledge her presence. “His name is Baekhyun.” 

Instinctively, I repeated his name, missing how it felt to say it from my lips. “Baekhyun.” 

He smiled gently, and it was the same beautiful smile I had ever seen.  

His eyes darted to the painting behind me before shifting his gaze to the ring on my finger, which was similar to what was in the painting, then to my face, his orbs danced around my features. I was so familiar with his smile that it could replace my anxiousness with a gentle breeze that soothed my nerves. 

“Hey.” 

This is me praying that this was the very first page. 

Not where the storyline ends. 

[misc-obeyme]

For your Flufftober event, could I possibly request Asmo with the prompt, “planning a special date night for MC”? 😍

Hi Jes!! I hope you're having a lovely day! <3

Okay, I loved this prompt, it's so Asmo. I just feel like he'd go all out! I really enjoyed writing this one as I'm really quite fond of Asmo.

Thank you for submitting a prompt!!

FLUFFTOBER 2023

GN!MC x Asmodeus

Warnings: none!

The moment he was able to secure plans with you for a date night, Asmodeus got to work. He knew exactly what to do and he was careful to make sure you had no idea what he was up to.

The truth was that Asmo had been looking forward to this date for a long time. The idea came to him when he was watching you in the garden, smiling happily with everyone. It was always dark in the Devildom, but you were like a little light, attracting every single demon right to you. There was something bright and warm that emanated from you. Maybe the others didn't realize, but Asmo could see that it was your love, your shining human heart.

And whenever you turned your eyes on him, when you said his name or smiled his way, it made him feel like he was the center of the universe. It was a feeling he was constantly chasing in his long life, but he found it so easily with you.

So when you looked over at him, out in the garden that night, Asmo was overwhelmed by his feelings for you. He knew in that moment that he wanted to try to give you just a fraction of that feeling that you always gave him. He wanted you to feel like the sun in his solar system - every part of him revolving around you.

For days, Asmo was going from place to place, gathering everything he would need for your perfect night. Then he just needed to keep you out of the garden while he set everything up. Fortunately, Asmo was able to convince Belphie to fall asleep on your lap for a bit, so that if you left your spot on the couch, Belphie could report back.

Asmo had purchased a new outfit, a well tailored black and pink suit with just enough sparkle to add a bit of flourish. He had just finished getting himself ready when Belphie poked his head into Asmo's room, letting him know that you had left the couch. Likely you were preparing to meet Asmo by the front door, as the two of you had planned.

Asmo hurried down the stairs and waited by the door. He was surprised to find he was actually a little nervous, the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He smiled. How unusual it was for someone to make him feel that way. But of course, there was something special about you.

Even though Asmo hadn't told you the kind of outfit to wear, you had clearly assumed you would be on a fancy date. You came down the stairs looking absolutely stunning and for a moment, Asmo forgot all his grand plans. For a moment, he was mesmerized by your light, shining so brilliantly, filling him with warmth.

You reached him, meeting his eyes and smiling. "You look so handsome tonight, Asmo."

Asmo shook his head a little. "You're the one who's practically glowing right now, MC!"

You laughed, a sound just as sparkling as you were. "Where are we going tonight?"

Asmo put his arm out for you to take. You put your own through it and he pulled you closer to him, just to feel you against him.

He didn't answer your question, but opened the door for you, leading you out into the House of Lamentation's garden. The moment you entered it, you let out a little gasp.

In the middle of the garden was a table, covered in tasteful decor in the form of a tablecloth and centerpiece, with a lovely array of delicious looking dishes and an unopened bottle of Demonus.

And all around it, radiating out from it on multiple different surfaces, were what looked to be hundreds of candles. Some of them were on little pedestals, others nestled in tall candelabras, still others held in the hands of beautiful statues. More could be found tucked inside little lanterns that hung from the trees. The whole space was illuminated with the warm glow of the candlelight.

"Don't worry," Asmo said. "I had Solomon fireproof everything. It looks so different, doesn't it?"

You turned to look at him, your eyes wide. "This is amazing."

Asmo felt the blush that crept up in his cheeks, but he didn't let it derail him. He took both of your hands in his. "MC, you always make me feel like I'm the most important demon in the world. I wanted you to experience that feeling, too, even if it's only for tonight."

Asmo watched as you blushed, too. Your expression changed rapidly, as though you were feeling several different emotions and you couldn't quite figure out which one to display. In the end, you settled for a bright smile that nearly made his heart burst.

"Asmodeus, don't you know that you always make me feel that way, too?" you said softly.

You had the sweetest look in your eyes as you said this and Asmo couldn't hold back. He stepped closer, putting a hand on your waist, and kissed you. And as long as your lips were pressed against his, you might as well have been the only two beings in existence.

flufftober | kinktober | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

taglist: @anxious-chick @t0tallycoolname @libidinous-weeb

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

this might be a touchy subject and you don’t have to answer but, as one myself, how would Yves act with a chronically ill/physically disabled person? or even someone who constantly deals with chronic pain that is debilitating for everyday life? btw i love your writing, no matter how cursed. 🤍

Yves feels his heart wrench whenever he sees you break down in tears, frustrated at yourself for not doing as well as other able-bodied people, frustrated that you have to surrender your autonomy at times to Yves. He truly does, he hates to see you in such a state. While he doesn't mind, even prefers you to be dependent on him due to his strong caregiver personality, Yves doesn't want it to be at the cost of your happiness.

He will read up on all the papers published about your illness or disability. Past and modern ones, there must be a pattern or some sort that he could identify. Yves will try his best to find a cure or at least something that will improve your symptoms greatly.

But the first thing he will get done is to talk to you. Discuss what you ultimately want; is it freedom you seek? His undying support? The unyielding truth that Yves will stay by your side no matter how bad it gets? Do you want to keep fighting for yourself, or do you want Yves to do it for you?

You will have the latest, cutting-edge prosthetics if you're struggling with an amputated limb or body part. All the helpful, relevant, accessible gadgets will be installed in the house in hopes of making your life much easier and giving back the level of independence you need to maintain your mental health. Yves will remember all your appointments for you, that fills his planners up. Your dosages, your medication, and the procedures of your treatments.

He will remind you, pre-pack your pills, and help you with your IV drip. Yves is very careful with his tone and words, he knows the stress, humiliation, and pain that come with living as a chronically ill person can easily set you off. Everything can be overwhelming, he does not want to see tears of anger or hopelessness in your eyes. It's not your fault, you never wanted this and it just happened to affect you.

Yves spends nights perusing through all experimental treatments, weighing between the risks and benefits. He will present his carefully curated selection to you, but he makes sure to pace it out appropriately. Because if he were to show you thousands of pages of medical reports, chances are you're going to be upset, overstimulated, and angry at him. You have very limited energy and focus, he needs to get his words as concise and accurate as possible.

Watching him kneel with you on the bathroom floor, as you experience your seventh vomiting tonight, truly shocked you. Understandably, you're in such a terrible state, that you've barely gotten any sleep for the past month. But Yves sleeps even less, he is always awake, always looking after you. Ready for any emergencies and constantly preparing items or foods that will ease you. Yet, he looks glowing, as if he wasn't caretaking a bleeding ball of misery. His hair is always silky and brushed, no bags under his eyes, and his movement is still crisp. And he always knows what to do, much better than you or your practitioners.

He knows your body well enough to administer his own dose of painkillers, going against doctors' orders and obtaining drugs that fully alleviate your pain. Strategically timing your doses so it won't be too hard on your liver. Taking your blood samples himself and ran them through his own trusted pathology lab, potentially proving that your doctor might have misdiagnosed you. Maybe you wouldn't need to suffer, Yves could find a cure.

You were very apprehensive at first when Yves suggested that he does his own testing. He has no credentials, why should you trust him? The doctors have much more experience than him and they went to school for this. You're not trusting a random to cut you open either, he's a mathematician, not a medical doctor or a surgeon-

You were dumbfounded when he produced his own certifications and licenses. Proving that he worked in hospitals, researched institutes, and even published his own medical papers that universities used as teaching material for decades. Everything he presented is legitimate, he even demonstrated the validity of them by your request. You could call his universities and they will all confirm his contributions, You can confirm with the government and the relevant boards, you can search for him anywhere, and early pictures of him will resurface.

He looked so different. Yves looked unremarkable in them with short hair. He looks unhappier and more exhausted, though. Makes you wonder how old he really is.

But that was all. You cannot find further information on Yves other than the ones he allows you to know about.

So you reluctantly let him stick a needle in you, only to realize that he's done. You blinked multiple times and darted your eyes from your arm and his gloved hands holding vials of blood. Unlike the usual nurses or doctors, you can't feel the needle going in or out. Yes, you saw it, but it was unbelievably fast.

Your jaw dropped as he didn't even need to palpate your arm. Yves just calmly inserted the syringe, gathered what he needed, and finished. You didn't experience any bruising later, which was astonishing with the speed he was working with.

He labeled them and packed them in a plastic bag with a biohazard symbol on it and into a padded envelope. Yves disposed of his gloves and washed his hands.

You expected him to enlighten you. Tell you stories while he was in the field, brag about his accomplishments, complain about difficult patients, anything! You needed to know more! Just who the hell is he?

But all he did was smile, give you a kiss on the forehead, and help you back to your room.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Sweet Amber, I wana request "hushed sex while staying in the guest room of another’s home" for AOU Steve and reader when they were at Clint's farm, because he wants a life and family with his girl.

And thankyou for seeing my previous ask, I'm the same AOU anon BTW.. I can't tell how much I love this man.

I hope this is some of the feels you were looking for. I'm super tired tonight and having a hard time wording what I want to say. But thank you so much Babes for sending me this request. All the love right back and imagine Steve just loving you so damn much.

Send me an Ask from this list of Prompts

This is an 18+ Only Blog.

Everything felt so much MORE.

The squeak of the bed, Steve's soft huffs against your neck where he buried his face for a moment, the feeling bombarding both of you overwhelming in this second. Your thighs squeezed around his waist, encouraging him to continue while your fingers grazed up and down his muscled back, making an invisible painting speaking of your love along his spine and over his shoulder blades.

The tension of the past few days, all of your worlds being disrupted by Tony and Bruce's error was bleeding out of you both for now. You both tried to be quiet in your needs for each other, hushed tones whispered to each other about how good it felt passed between press of lips. The house was full, brimming with people and this might not be the right place or time, but there were no real rules between you two anymore.

Right now it was about feeling, anything, something. As long as it gave you both hope to keep going. The world threw so much as all of you, you had to take it where you could get it to prepare for the next disaster. "Oh god, Steve." You muttered, arching under him when his hips pushed back in, his cock thick against your slick walls, squeezing him just right that his movements stuttered in several quick thrusts before he pulled back again.

You were ready for him to push back into you, wanted it, your body arched in an invitation for him to fill you in the way you only ever wanted him to. "I know Doll, it's just so good." He lifted away to catch your lips, drawing out the moan built up in your throat to keep quiet, gasping against you at how you made him feel.

"You gonna fill me with your babies Steve?" You moved away from his mouth, moving along his jawline as his mouth went slick, his eyes screwed close in concentration to keep from cumming yet.

"Dance with me late at night after our kids are in bed?" You continued, painting the dream you knew he has had since you two fell for each other. "In our home full of love and life?"

You could feel him, he was so close and you didn't even care that you weren't. Today this was about Steve, being able to take care of him in a way he never had with anyone, to give him tenderness and passion among the anger and heartbreak surrounding them right now.

Steve pushed up enough to roll the two of you in the small bed, making it creak ominously beneath the two of you while you straddled him, pushing your hands against his strong chest to ride him slowly, let him savor watching you, your golden-haired super soldier seemed to finally let go of all the bullshit, being here with just you.

His hands glided onto your hips, fingers possessively pressing into the soft curves of you while helping you move, unhurried, you just let yourself sink onto him over and over, your sighs and moans all soft just for him. "You know I love you right?" He asked out of nowhere, his hips arching under you to press himself back into the deepest part of you. "I don't think I would have been able to do this without you Y/N."

You let yourself fall forward, your chest pressing against his and your hands cupping his face, tracing the angles of his features that you were so intimate with, your eyes softening with love in return. "It's always going to be you and me, Steve, no matter what happens."

Your forehead leaned against his, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close while you felt him cum, his spend warm as it spread through you and you melted in against him, sated and content to just enjoy the moment right now, not what had already happened, or what was possibly going to come. "I love you too Steve, we were always meant to be here I think." You let your head lift to look at him. "Even here and now, in Clint's house, trying our damndest to be quiet." You broke into a grin and his matched, finally some of the shine returning in his eyes.

"I don't know how quiet we were Doll, but we certainly tried."

[withheldcloud]

part one

New York, populated with humans of every archetype, houses the loneliest. Most, unspokenly bonded, fail to offer a smile in passing. The native is well-acquainted with flickers of eye contact, an initial, passing thought, and a return to the interior—as if the overexposure to others taught them to internalize everything. At least, this is Scarlett’s subjective experience in the past years of living in town.

Little things help. A gratitude journal here, a skincare routine there. Pasta in the living room with a bottle of Merlot and a shitty sitcom. These are her big things, though they’re all practiced in solitude. A refute to Scarlett’s New York pessimism wouldn’t be unheard of or uncommon. Any extrovert would bat an eyelash, questioning where she dwells. Ambiverted Scarlett leans into introversion six times out of ten, and her friends encourage it by offering to come to her and share those indoor activities.

Ezra is traveling, which became the case about two months ago. March shifted leadership, with Ezra taking on more client-facing duties as his father grows older. Mr. Bode feels his son should acquaint himself with the workload more, especially after an inebriated four years at college. At 65, the gallery should enjoy a rebrand under his son’s direction; this means more time spent in Europe. It leaves little room for intimacy ahead of Scarlett’s wedding to Ezra, who proposed before friends and family at a dinner celebrating the gallery just months ago.

The rock rarely lives on her finger. “It’s overwhelming,” she admitted in her private response to the jewel. 

She prefers not to advertise it, stowing it in a jewelry box and dressing her ring finger for nights at the gallery—when advertising it is mandatory.

“You must be overjoyed,” clients rhapsodize between glasses of champagne, “becoming a Bode is no small achievement.” 

“An achievement,” Scarlett repeats after blinking a few times. A masking smile returns moments later. 

Scarlett leaves the proof of engagement in the box as she treks downtown with friends on Friday. It’s her first time in weeks. Scarlett, Olive, and Tate enter a dimly lit speakeasy through a small gallery. 

The wall announces in bold text, IT’S NOT OVER UNTIL YOU SAY IT’S OVER. Scarlett’s eyes linger.

The dim speakeasy has no empty seating. The women approach the bar with thirsty tongues and strong legs to stand on. 

A brunette man takes orders and cards with ease. He’s effortless and on auto-pilot as he works.

“What can I get you?” he eventually asks the trio.

Scarlett opts for a tequila on the rocks with salt. 

“Do you like New York?” Scarlett asks as she notices his eyes studying her. 

“Best city in the world,” his tone bites with amused eyes. He’s English. 

“You didn’t like London?” her pitch raises in evident curiosity. 

He blinks a few times, eyebrows creasing, unresponsive as he prepares the drinks. A struck nerve?

“Are you from London?” Scarlett presses.

“Do I sound like I’m from London?” the man deadpans with unmistakable disinterest in pursuing this topic.

Scarlett’s gaze narrows, “You sound like you belong in New York.”

Dimples cave into the man’s cheeks with softened eyes. He serves the alcohol and ruffles his locks.

“Do you want to start a tab?” he looks between the women.

The plan is to hop between spots, but Scarlett’s feet stand firmly in place. 

“Fuck it. Why not?” she hands her Amex over. He notices it’s a black card.

Olive and Tate take photos of the interior for their Instagram stories. Scarlett is trying not to look at the Englishman, who is more interesting than the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. 

“You know, it’s not polite to stare,” he teases with more dimples.

“And it’s not polite to ignore people’s questions about London,” she counters with hot cheeks. 

“I’m working,” he feigns a serious tone. 

“How long have you worked here?” Scarlett’s curiosity is relentless tonight. He chuckles. 

“Some time. Did curiosity kill the cat?” he poses, leaning against the bar.

“You hate answering questions,” she scowls and tilts back her glass. 

“And you love asking them.” 

Scarlett’s eyes roll. Olive and Tate chat about a man toward the other end of the bar. 

“I have one for you,” the man’s question raises Scarlett’s eyebrows. 

“And that would be?” her hand grabs her hip. 

“What are you doing later tonight?” he questions without a trace of sarcasm.

“I…” Scarlett is dumbfounded. “I’m hanging out with my friends.”

“Shame,” he shrugs. “I mean, they seem fun. But I get off early tonight.”

A scoff erupts from Scarlett. 

“Why does that concern me? Do you even have a name?” 

“No, actually,” his sarcasm returns. “So, you can call me whatever you want.”

“A perv?” she suggests. 

“A date.” 

“I’m not even giving you fuck-me eyes,” she lies. 

“I’ll answer your questions,” he hopes this works. Scarlett pauses. 

Her eyes meet Olive’s and Tate’s. They appear confused. Scarlett returns her attention to the unnamed Brit.

“I don’t have any more questions for you. Thanks for the drinks. We’re leaving soon,” she dismisses and gulps her liquor. 

To her surprise, he nods.

“I’m here when it’s not crowded, too. Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

Scarlett wants to drown herself in this tequila. How are his eyes so green?

“What the fuck is your name, anyway?” she rejects her last statement. His smile brightens. 

“Harry.” 

He’s neglecting his work and the group beside Scarlett is growing annoyed. He nods in their direction to let them know he’ll be with them momentarily.

Scarlett notices that and uses it as an excuse to end the conversation. 

“Well, Harry, thank you but no thank you. Have a great rest of your night.” 

“You too, Scarlett Finn.” 

Her face twists in panic before he hands back her Amex with her name printed on it. 

“You are something,” she huffs, emptying the glass and placing it before him. 

“And you are gorgeous. Have a good night,” his eyes scan her before he finally shifts his attention to the waiting customers. 

Scarlett feels a slight loss at his averted attention. She watches him for a few moments as he takes other orders before shaking her head. 

“We’re leaving. Down those,” Scarlett instructs Olive and Tate, who exchange a look before snorting. 

“Not feeling this place, Scar?” Olive asks as Tate fulfills Scarlett’s demand. 

“I need some air,” she tries not to look at Harry. Olive and Tate accept this answer, finishing their drinks and interlacing fingers to exit together. 

Scarlett looks back once more as she’s pulled toward the entrance. Harry meets her eyes with a knowing smirk. 

Scarlett counts how many days there are until Tuesday. Four. 

[literaryfandomangel]

The Lost Boys - Time After Time

Sequel to The Promise

Chapter One

The following day, I was still reeling from the shock of my father's sudden appearance. Tears streamed down my cheeks as my mother empathetically assisted me in packing my belongings. She was adamant that I only pack the essentials, fearing that my father might unexpectedly whisk me away. I carefully gathered all my relatively new school supplies, placing them in my bag. My mother had the arduous task of going to the school to officially withdraw me from the district, a poignant and burdensome reminder of the upheaval in our lives.

As evening set in, my mom dropped Sam and me off at the Boardwalk for what would be our final outing. After a couple of hours, she returned to pick up Sam but instructed me to take my time. She also cautioned me to be on the lookout for my father, who was insistent that I avoid spending time with my boyfriends.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow across the boardwalk, I found myself sitting in tender anticipation, waiting for the familiar rumble of their bikes to break the silence of the evening. After what seemed like an eternity, the sound finally reached my ears, sending a bittersweet shiver down my spine. The rumble of the motorcycle stirred a mixture of emotions within me, and as my heart leaped into my throat, I couldn't help but feel a surge of longing and nostalgia wash over me.

David, Dwayne, Paul, and Marko were determined to make the most of our last night together. Despite many popular attractions being closed, they decided to revisit the diner where we had shared a memorable meal months earlier.

As we walked into the café, I noticed that we had a different waitress this time. Despite this change, I felt more confident than before when it came to ordering food. Instead of my usual order - dry toast and a few bites of strawberry - I decided to be more adventurous and ordered a refreshing fruit bowl along with warm oatmeal. This may seem like a small change, but for me, it signified a significant milestone in my journey of recovery since coming to Santa Carla. The fact that I could contemplate eating a light meal without feeling overwhelmed by anxiety was a huge step forward. This progress, though seemingly minor, gave me hope for the future, showing that I was making steady strides toward overcoming the trauma and anxiety that haunted me in the past. 

Marko and Paul tried to infuse some light-heartedness into the evening, especially while we were sharing a meal. However, David remained noticeably quiet, his expression serious, with his hand resting on my thigh. Every so often, he would gently squeeze my thigh; it was unclear whether he was seeking comfort or offering it to me. Meanwhile, Dwayne was uncharacteristically silent, poking at the burger on his plate without saying much.

After we had all finished our meals, we made our way from the Boardwalk. Dwayne kindly insisted on escorting me to his motorcycle, where I gratefully accepted a ride back to the cave with him. As we arrived at their home, we all relaxed and let go of any pretense.

We spent our last evening together in a cozy nest of blankets, finding comfort in each other's presence. The five of us huddled together, sharing gentle and innocent touches. Amidst the warmth, there were bittersweet tears shed as we prepared to part ways. Eventually, it was time for the other four to accompany me back home.

Tonight, as the cool evening air enveloped us, the motorcycles crept along the winding road at a pace that seemed almost reluctant, as if trying to savor every moment. David, cautious as ever, veered off the road a few yards before reaching the driveway, a preemptive measure to avoid any potential encounter with my father. Disembarking from the back of Paul's motorcycle, I took deliberate steps towards Grandpa's house, the familiar scent of the surrounding trees and the distant hum of the night creating an atmosphere of both apprehension and anticipation.

“I don’t want to leave,” I confessed to my boyfriends as we halted on the dirt road. David was quick to frame my cheeks with his gloved hands. 

“We don’t want you to leave either,” David gently made a promise, his voice brimming with emotion. As I locked eyes with him, I saw the depth of his concern and the overflowing love in his pale blue eyes.

“None of us want you to leave, Princess,” Dwayne’s deep timber rumbled through his chest. The five of us were mournful due to the changes that would happen. They were aware of the significance of what this would mean - whereas I was unaware.

The four individuals were insistent on forcibly removing me against my will, demonstrating a refusal to allow me to leave voluntarily. Despite this, they were also aware of my fear of my father. I was concerned that he would take Sam with him instead, causing my mother a great deal of emotional distress.

As if an eternity had passed, though it was just thirty seconds, we found ourselves standing in the driveway. Marko enveloped me in a warm embrace, savoring my scent for what felt like an eternity before releasing me. With a gentle grasp of my chin, he tilted my head back and planted eager, insistent kisses on my lips.

As much as I wanted to hold onto Paul, I could feel him sniffling into my hair. Amidst my tears, I breathed in the distinct scent of Paul, the warmth of his tears mingling with mine. Even though his hair felt like it was closing off my senses, I couldn't bear to let him go. Finally, Paul gently pulled me away just enough for our lips to touch, our emotions intertwining in that brief, poignant moment.

Dwayne acted swiftly, pushing Paul aside as it became evident that he was determined to prevent me from leaving. With a powerful embrace, Dwayne drew me into his chest, his physical prowess unmistakable. The roughness of Dwayne's hand as it gripped the back of my neck was juxtaposed with the tenderness of his touch, gently caressing the sensitive skin beneath my hairline. Moments later, Dwayne pulled back, his kiss exuding desperation. Before parting, he pressed a small, meaningful figurine into my hand.

Finally, it was David's turn. As he approached, I could feel my heart beating faster. He didn't take too long, but the suspense seemed to stretch into eternity. As he wrapped me in his arms, I could feel the warmth of his wool trench coat and the sound of the ticking clocks echoing in the room. The delicate fabric of his coat scraped against my cheek, sending shivers down my spine. After a few heartbeats, David pulled me closer, and I could feel the passion in his embrace, making every moment unforgettable.

“I’ll see you guys around Christmas,” I informed them, tears swimming in my eyes. I backed away, not wanting this moment to end. Mom opened the door when she heard my footsteps on the porch, wrapping me up in her arms.

“Don’t worry guys,” Mom promised in her soft voice. “She’ll write letters and I’ll pass them along.”

“I love you,” every single one of the guys promised, one last fleeting touch before they disappeared into the night. My sobs audible as they disappeared, my heart feeling like it was breaking.

Chapter Two

[vibratingskull]

The Ball part 1

Part1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Tag list

ThrawnxF!reader

It is time for the ball, time to enjoy yourself before taking your responsabilities in the Marine, maybe time to try your luck with Thrawn. What could go wrong anyway?

You look at your reflection in the minuscule mirror of your shared room in the Academy. You rotate yourself to inspect your gown for this special evening. Karyn has really good taste, the claret-red dress is simple yet elegant, fitting with open shoulders, laces in the back and a silver vine embroidered at the cloth’s feet. 

"Thanks again for the dress." You tell her across the room while checking your makeup. 

"You're welcome!Show me when you are ready!" 

You stomp your foot to test your shoes and feel a tingle of pain. Your wound from the exam didn't heal completely it seems, you’ll need to be cautious but it will do for tonight.

"Prepare to be amazed… Ta-daaa!" 

You theatrically push the door to reveal yourself in a model pose. You've really outdone yourself this time, you managed to strike a balance between your favorite look and what was deemed appropriate for such a high-class event. Karyn raises her head from her luggage and her eyes widen, she offers you her hand to make you turn on yourself to see every detail. 

"Verdict?" you ask, hopefully.

"Wow… You are striking!"

"Thank you, fair Lady." You respond mimicking her reverence. You turn back to the mirror once again with bubbles in your stomach. "Is everything alright?" 

"Your makeup is perfect. Your hair is gorgeous. Let me check your back." You feel her pulling and the laces bite your flesh. "The knots are well tightened. You're ready for-- The pin!"

She grabs a little jewelry on your desk and comes back to carefully attach it on the left of your chest. You observe the insignia of the Royal Imperial Academy engraved in a chromed metal. It isn't exactly pleasing to look at, but it is this pin or the uniform.

"I wish I could have come with you tonight. It won't be the same now that you have finished your training." She tells you with a drop of disappointment in her voice.

You put her in a hug. You realize it will be difficult to see each other from now on. She still has two years here in the Academy while everyone in your class has learned their assignment. 

"Ho sweetheart, I would have loved it too. Parties are always more fun when you are around! In two years you too will have the privilege to attend this pompous party and put up with the Gotha." 

You both laugh and hug one another, appreciating the presence of your friend one last time. Outside a humming is getting clearer, indicating shuttles for the Opera House are starting to arrive.

She motions her head towards the door. 

"The shuttles must be ready. You should go."

You get your purse and a satin shawl, and hug her one last time. 

"We’ll stay in contact. If someone annoys you I’ll come back to give them a lesson."

"Yes, mom! Now leave or they’ll go without you."

You wave a last goodbye and join the rest of your comrades in the elevator. Everyone is dressed-up, all the women in dresses are wearing high quality fabrics, not to mention elaborate jewelry and expensive perfumes which threaten to overwhelm your nose in the cramped elevator. Unfortunately, the pin clashes with most of their attire. All the the men and some of the women are wearing a black variation of the military uniform, with an addition of golden and white embroideries on the pants, the cuffs and the collar and golden epaulets.

Everyone is terribly nervous.

Tonight, under the eyes of their families and all the top names of Coruscant, they will take their first step into High Society. The pressure must be unbearable. As for you and the other Outer Rim students you will surely spend this night dancing, drinking and eating the most elaborate dishes at the expense of the rich and, maybe, finding new relationships with the well-born and other high officiers, depending on your state of sobriety.

You are sure Eli and Thrawn will be carrying you back. You can already hear Eli's lectures about alcohol and how careless you are. Thrawn will only sigh silently but help regardless, saving the scolding for tomorrow while you will laugh and cluck, taking them both in your arms crying about the idea of being separated and how much you will miss them, like a bad holodrama. This idea makes you giggle internally. You hadn’t seen the duo since the graduation ceremony, you hope they got the placement they asked for.

You step out of the elevator with your classmates. Some of them go straight outside to enter the shuttles whereas the others gather with their group of friends or date. You recognize some of the couples. The divide between those there of their own free will vs. the will of their parents was obvious by their expressions.

Your two favorite calamities are not in sight, they must be on the docks. 

Passing the door of the Academy, a fresh breeze comes caressing your skin cooling down the planet city's heat. You approach the end of the platform and take a moment to observe the lights of the skyscrapers and holos, to hear the sounds of the population living and laughing all around you, feeling the heart of the city beating.

Heading toward the docks, you finally see the duo outside of an open shuttle. They look like high generals in their regalia. Eli even coiffed his mane behind his head. It must have been difficult to comb but the result was worth it. 

Thrawn didn’t change his hairstyle but the black fabric and golden intricacies give him a majestic appearance, contrasting with the blue of his skin that seems to glow in the moonlight. His usual formal demeanor enhances his dignified and assured look. He really is handsome.

As you approach them, you feel a weird tension coming from them. Thrawn stands straight as is his habit with his hands clasped behind his back, but appears stiffer than usual, while Eli is leaning against the ship, arms crossed. Did they have an argument? You really want to enjoy this party. It will be difficult enough with egocentric toffs, howler politicians and ISB members. Your friends can’t be fighting on top of all of that. 

"Well hello, good sirs. What are two fine gentlemans such as yourself doing this lovely evening?” You ask as you bow to them with a smile, trying to ease the mood 

Thrawn snaps out of his mutism upon hearing your voice, as he visibly relaxes. Eli raises his head with a relieved sigh. He jumps to offer you his hands, bowing to you, keeping up the act. 

"We were waiting for a fair Lady to escort. She finally decides to honor us with her presence." 

He winks at you and conducts you to the shuttle. Eli enters first and scowls at Thrawn as he passes him.

Ever the stoic, Thrawn doesn’t address the hostile behavior. He simply tilts his head with a light smile as you approach. 

"Lady (y/f/n)." He greets you with his soft baritone. 

"Lieutenant Thrawn." You respond, gladly acknowledging his effort to play along. 

You take the hand he gallantly offers and enter the shuttle.

It is elegantly decorated with white walls and padded seats in creamy shades. The bulbs provide just enough light to illuminate and give a softened and warm atmosphere. The ship is also divided into compartments with frosted transparisteel, which give groups a little privacy. 

You hear Thrawn follow and close the door of the capsule. You both take a seat with Eli, already checking the programm for the party.

You take a seat just as the shuttle takes off with a buzzing sound. You press yourself against the viewport to see the city blurred by the speed. You have always liked to see the lights blend while being lulled by the quiet purring of the motors. The first minutes pass in silence, with you mesmerized by the lights, Eli staring into the distance and Thrawn silently reviewing the shuttle’s flyer on cultural destinations.

You switch back your attention when Eli grumbles. 

"Why do we have to go anyway?" 

"For the Gotha to present their new members and for the Empire to display their new loyal officers." You respond half joking. "But forget them, tonight we are here to enjoy ourselves. Where are you assigned?" You ask cheerfully. 

Eli's face darkens and he slouches into his seat, arms crossed. Thrawn glances at him before answering you. 

"We have been assigned to the Blood Crow around the border sectors."

"Together? That's amazing! Did you both get the position you wanted?" 

Eli scoffs at this.

"Can we talk about something else?"

"And you?” Thrawn asked. “What will be your new duties?" 

"I am now a Private First Class on the Zephyr Heavy cruiser."

Spirit seems to regain Eli as his eyes get shiny. 

"The Zephyr? I know this ship, it regularly asks for my parents' services."

You squeeze Eli's hands with enthusiasm. 

"Really? I may get the chance to meet them, then. I didn’t get to the other day."

Thrawn however, mildly frowns at this information.

"Private companies can obtain business deals with Imperial structures? Why not just use its own network?" 

"Never heard about Imperial contracts? You will need to catch-up with more than just military technicalities if you want anything to get done here." Eli's hands clench in yours as he spits his response. You've never seen him so openly hostile toward Thrawn.

"I will study those aspects, thank you for sharing this information."

"Do what you want, as always." Eli slowly hissed while looking away from Thrawn.

Your heart stops at this answer and your blood freezes at Thrawn's expression. His face warps as an underlying anger starts to pierce the surface. You decide to interject before it escalates.

"Well, I don't know what you are both up to tonight, but the pair of you owe me a dance !" 

They both slowly turn their heads toward you with surprise. It is almost comic.

You grin. "Listen boys, I know you won't likely take part in any waltz at this party, but I didn’t take two months of my time to teach you how to dance for you to be wallflowers. Consider this repayment for the lessons."

"You wouldn't dare do that to us," Eli pleads. 

"You bet I would!" You close this matter with a satisfied grin. 

-------------

The Galaxies Opera House is nothing less than breathtaking, with its multiple domes, its intricate circuits of corridors and suspended bridges leading to innumerables rooms and auditoriums. Anybody would feel tiny and insignificant next to this colossus. 

You stand before it in awe. You've only seen it through the media that didn’t do it justice. On your left Eli lets escape an impressed whistle with his hand shielding his eyes. On your right Thrawn scans the edifice, surely in hope to spot a pattern.

While you are admiring the surroundings part of the crowd moves inside the Opera, composed of your classmates, some of your teachers, a number of local celebrities, governors, senators, councilors, and magistrates. You spot at least two Admirals and, most to your misfortune, several ISB members. You will need to be cautious around them.

Despite the security put in place, a large group of bystanders came to see the cream of Coruscant on a red carpet and several students started posing in pairs with excitement; others waved towards the journalists behind red ropes while climbing the stairs, and at least five are joined by their famous relatives under the whistles and cheers of the onlookers.

Others are only here to display their fortune and it shows, with multiples expensives layers of fabrics puffing them up like cream cakes, an embroidered train of several meters lazily dragging behind it's owner, a Lady wearing a single piece of armature that drawn her dress from her spine and combed her hair to the top of her head. Fashion designers were out of control this year. To think you had to follow a dress code while the rentiers could wear those. 

"Are we… really obliged to go?" Eli asked uncomfortably, swaying on his two feet.

You agree with him, despite graduating from the Royal Imperial Academy as your comrades, your outer rim roots remind you that you are not part of this world of wealth and eccentricity, it is easy to get self conscious and discouraged. Thrawn on the other hand seems more bothered by the flashes of camera at the moment, protecting his eyes with his palm.

"Yes! Let's go!"

Without warning, you loop your arms between them and pull them inside with you, leaving behind the noisy crowd and paparazzis. You are quite surprised they didn’t try to escape your grasp. Thrawn stays by your side in silence, rubbing his eyes while Eli tightens his grip on your arm. It is far easier to navigate in a crowd as a block than alone against the current. After following the red carpet through several bridges and corridors, you finally arrive at the ballroom reserved for the Great Graduation Gala of the Royal Imperial Academy. As you pass the arches a thought enters your mind.

This is too much. 

If the outside of the Opera is elegantly simple, the inside is a mess… 

The Ballroom's domed roof makes use of all the available height provided. At least five levels circle around the main floor, each one designed according to the architectural fashion of the time. It is the most improbable room you have ever seen. Nowhere else in the galaxy could be found an auditorium bringing together a floor with vegetal designs and moldings, another with an obsession for symmetry and the purity of duracrete and one again with a contemporary interpretation of the Factory style with all variety of metals. Every floor is linked to the other thanks to a mural fountain in the shape of a geometrical labyrinth in deep black stones. And that’s not even taking into account the furniture, tapestries, and light fixtures.

The final product is… interesting. Yet again, given the clothing choice of the regulars of the place, it is expected. 

You lean on to Thrawn with a grin. 

"What can you deduce from this? I'm eager to hear your thoughts."

"An interesting display of various styles. But, beyond that, I have no ready opinion."

You laugh at his circonspect tone. 

"You have the right to find this ugly, nobody will hold it against you."

Eli, who was examining the room, nudges Thrawn.

“I think I just saw Captain Virgilio of the Blood Crow near the columns. We better introduce ourselves.”

“You’re quite right.”

You let them go to salute their superior, just as you spot a pyramid of glass that looks irresistible. You push your way through the talkative masse to the buffet, observing the large choice of dishes and drinks. You are really tempted by the champagne and the Calamnsi. It will relax you a little. There is nothing like an alcohol glass to feign confidence. 

You take a flute of Calamnsi, inhaling its scent. With its peach shades and tangerine fragrances, this drink possesses one of the highest alcohol concentrations despite having a soft taste. So soft, some children have mistaken it for some fruit juice and ended up completely drunk.

It's too strong for the beginning of this party, you decide to start with Champagne.

You're about to taste the golden spirit when a hand gently grabs your shoulder, almost making you drop your glass. You turn yourself only to see Eli with a finger on his mouth. 

"What are you doing here? I thought you were going to see the Captain with Thrawn." You ask with a low voice. 

“I just suggested we introduce ourselves. Besides, Thrawn is capable enough to do it without me supervising him."

You pick up the annoyance in his tone. 

"What's up between you too? You seem really upset by him."

"Nothing. What's in your glass?" 

"Champagne."

"Is there anything stronger?"

You find him a shot of Burning Gin and he thanks you with a nod before drinking the electric blue liquid in one sip. His face immediately twists into a grimace. 

"Maker," He gasps. "I can feel its burns all the way!"

"That’s the idea." You say with a smile.

You watch him as the alcohol slowly takes effect, relaxing his body little by little. He lets out a sigh of contentment.

"That feels much better." 

You put your arm around his shoulder, gently pressing him against you. 

"Eli, you can talk to me, you know?"

He puts his hand behind his neck. “It’s just this ball. It’s stressing me more than I thought it would.”

You sigh in resignation. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it. You would have just preferred he didn’t openly lie to you. You stop insisting but keep your arm around him, offering him your presence. You both silently observe the ballroom and its inhabitants. All the chatter and clattering of glasses. How they slide across the floor in rhythm with the Orchestra. Some twirl with grace when some just hold their partners close to themself whispering sweet nothing to their ears, others watch like you and others talk business with smiles too bright to be completely honest.

You finish off your champagne and grab a glass of the Calamnsi. You make a silent toast with Eli, smiling, before turning back to the dancers. Unconsciously, you start to slowly rock together following the pace of the dancers and the instruments strings. You lay your head on Eli’s shoulder, enjoying the music vibrations through your body. He lays his head on yours and you stay this way, silently appreciating the moment with your friend.

"There you are.” 

A strict voice brings you back to a reality where Thrawn looks at you with a displead expression. Next to you, Eli let an exhausted sigh escape.

"May I ask why you sneak out before your superior?" Thrawn asks behind a closed face.

"I simply didn't feel like it, that's all." Eli tries to answer politely but his tone is acid.

Thrawn blinks. He starts to open his mouth before Eli quickly interrupts.

"(Y/n), do you hear this? It's our dance, let's go!" Eli exclaimed joyfully. 

He takes you by your wrist and you have just enough time to hand your full glass to Thrawn before getting dragged into the circle of dancers.

Leaving you no time to gather yourself Eli passes his hand on your back to your opposite hip and seizes your other hand before starting to twirl with the other couples. It takes you a second to stabilize yourself and properly follow his lead without mixing up your feet.

“Be more careful next time, I’ve almost tripped over someone!” You protest. “What’s with you so suddenly?”

He shoots you with his brightest smile. 

“I was listening to the music and felt the irrepressible urge to invite my great friend to dance, nothing special!”

And getting away from Thrawn as quickly as possible, you silently complete. You shake your head and go up to speed with him, flying across the floor as the other dancers. At the corner of your eye you take a glimpse of Thrawn putting your empty glass away and starting a conversation with a high ranked person. At least he doesn’t appear more annoyed than that. You shift back your attention to Eli, carefully avoiding stepping on his foot.

“You said earlier we should try to enjoy ourselves tonight, and this is exactly what I am doing right now,” he insists.

You don’t respond but agree, all those dance lessons pay off. Ballroom dances are mostly done for showing off but you are genuinely having fun in the arms of your friend, from whisk to sidesteps, you skillfully display your dance talents, laughing along with him. As the dance progresses you get looser with more amplified movements and funky steps. Your whole body starts to get warm with the exercise and you can feel a light veil of sweat on your forehead. Enthralled by the energy, you stay for the next few dances. The Orchestra dropt the ballroom repertoire for more popular songs. A non neglecting number of the students come on the floor, giving free reign to their dance moves. 

At the end of this segment you’re both out of breath and leave for a drink. While drinking you snap some photos with Eli as souvenirs, rapidly the smiles leave place to silly faces and you start scavenging the place to find other students and snap them together. Most of them are happy to oblige and give you their best smiles or their worst grimace and you join them in the picture. After that a significant amount of your class gathers for an unofficial photo and you go hands in hands with Eli. Someone thought it was a good idea to bring a champagne bottle that just exploded in their hands, soaking the group the moment the photo was taken. The final result is hilarious though.

You start feeling your wound and hear your stomach growl inelegantly. You also remember you’ve been drinking without eating a thing. You will collapse drunk if you don’t do something. You pour yourself a glass of water and turn yourself towards the canapes and petits fours with a ravenous smile. Eli imitates you and you start debating which variety of appetizers is the most tasty without minding the other distinguished guests around you. You're augmenting back to back, Eli’s more into the tomato and sesame canape and you prefer the sausage and groundberry one when an unknown voice is raised next to you.

“Excuse me, cadets.”

You raise an eyebrow, stopping mid-bite, looking toward the voice and see Thrawn with a new glass of Calamnsi in hand and an old man in a white uniform. The old man is looking at your surprised faces with an amused look, the corner of his mustache raised in a grin.

“Is it really how the new Empire’s officers should behave during an official party?”

Eli swallows his bite precipitately.

“Colonel Yularen?! I was not aware you would be here!”

Colonel Yularen, one of the ISB’s highest ranking officers? How do these two know this man? And more importantly why does he have to be here?!

They shake hands while you turn your back to swallow your bite and get rid of any crumbs you have on your face. You inspire deeply to give you strength and turn again with a broad smile, reaching your hand to him. He seizes it with a warm grasp.

“I don’t think we’ve met, Miss?” 

“Miss (y/l/n), Sir.”

He stares at you with your hand still in his. You feel your heart sink. You use your mother’s name for safety reasons but since Thrawn proved it was still possible to trace back your affiliation you start thinking no name was safe enough to cover your traces. Did he recognise you already?

“Miss (y/l/n)... Truly a charming name, it suits you very well.” He adds with a comforting smile.

You nod mumbling thanks, secretly searching for any signs of suspicion on his face, but he seems relaxed and cheerful. As much as an ISB officer in service may be cheerful, but you're still on your guard. 

As they start speaking between each other you try to calm down the heartbeat pounding in your head. Discussions and music become nothing more than white noise. You manage to concentrate on what is being said in front of you with some difficulty. You catch them speaking about the new assignments. Unfortunately it doesn’t take long for Thrawn and Eli to start a little argument once again. It’s then Yularen turns to you with a thin smile.

“You said you were not from Coruscant, is that so?”

“Yes,” you respond politely.

You didn’t say anything along those lines and you’re taken aback by his attempt at discussing your origins. Next to you Eli and Thrawn keep talking, unaware of your turmoil. He brings his glass to his lips without taking a sip pretending to search in his memory. You hold your breath.

“(y/l/n)... This name is not completely unknown to me… I am sure I have already heard it next to another one, but which one it might be?” He says, holding your gaze.

You’re convinced he’s lying. You gulp and clench your hand on your glass. His next words may upend your entire future. You suddenly feel terribly isolated in this overcrowded room and very alone. 

“Miss (y/l/n), does the system-”

“Colonel Yularen.”

Thrawn interjects suddenly with a firm but calm voice. You both turn your gaze to him wondering why he had intervened. Eli also looks surprised.

“I am truly sorry to interrupt your discussion, but I have promised a dance to my friend and I have already missed my chance several times tonight.” He explains courteously.

Both men stare at each other a second before Yularen shrugs his shoulders.

“If it is a promise, I can oblige it.”

“Thank you Colonel.” 

Thrawn finishes his glass, disposes of it and gently takes your hand to guide you among the dancers. 

“Thank you.” You whisper on the verge of tears. Your wound does not ease things either.

“Your physical language was quite distressed, I thought you might appreciate some assistance.”

“More than you know, I knew I might cross some ISB agent but not a colonel. I am sure he knows about my family…” You answer in a drawl, your eyes fixed behind him on Yularen to not miss any admission of suspicion. 

“Do you, now?” He asks, spinning you around.

You bite your lips to refrain from talking too much, you wanted to fully trust Thrawn but one could never be too cautious. You clench your hands against him in an effort to get a hold of yourself. You could cry a little to release some of the pressure but you're not in a good place nor good company to do it right now. He squeezes your hand and tightens his grip around your waist.

“Compose yourself. Do not let them see a weakness to use against you.”

What is rather irritating with Thrawn is his way of “consoling” people with cold hard facts, he appears to be incapable of managing friend's vulnerability and comforts them “by force”. You don’t answer anything and inhale deeply to calm you down, starting to pay attention to the dance.

Even though he didn’t mean it, he pulls you closer to him. You could almost put your head on his chest and you can once again feel his warmth spread from his body to yours. His scent reaches you and you note with pleasure he put on some cologne. You’re sure it’s Eli’s For some reason, the thought of Thrawn asking for perfume makes you chuckle and alleviates the atmosphere a bit. 

You follow the music, hesitations, outside spins, whisks… each movement comes together with ease but you feel him more tense than during rehearsals.

“Does your back still hurt?” You ask looking up at him.

“Indeed. It appears I have not recovered completely.”

Speaking of injuries, your foot makes it known it won't endure another dance for long. 

You close your eyes for a moment, concentrating yourself on the music. Following the accelerating tempo your feet flee after one another. The air grazes your skin as you twirl in each other's arms, and your dress feels like a soft veil that turns and follows your footwork like wings. You feel both weightless and grounded in his embrace. It's as if he's the only real thing tethering you to the world. 

Your head is spinning deliciously, wrapped in every sound and music mingling in a background shush with only one singular steady beat. Surprised, you open your eyes to find your head resting on his chest, against his heart. Shocked but pleased, you let your head rest, careful not to make any movement that could prompt him to reject you. You feel a grin coming up on your lips.

“Thrawn?” Your words are whispered like a secret. “ Are we ever gonna discuss what happened?” You ask , raising your head to meet his gaze.

He regards you with blazing eyes in silence. You continue dancing eye to eye, Thrawn leading the both of you. You could swear he slowly goes off beat as time goes on, but… nevermind. 

“(y/n)...”

You see his eyes jumping from your eyes to your lips repeatedly as he slowly leans toward you.

“Yes?” You hold your breath with expectations.

“You have crumbs on your face.” He says in all seriousness.

“Oh crap!” 

You try rubbing your face against your shoulder the most discreetly possible, feeling a bit stupid now. 

Thrawn is back in his usual upright posture like nothing happened. It would seem nothing could disturb the man. However, his missteps say otherwise. Maybe you did have some effect on him.

You're ready to throw a clever remark when you feel his hand in yours trembling a bit. Looking up at him you note he breathes shortly and gulps with difficulty.

“Thrawn? Is everything okay?” Your voice’s shaky, you’ve never seen him this way.

He leans on once again, his forehead almost against yours, his eyes closed. He's definitely hotter than usual. You turn your head to scan the room in research of a balcony or a window, fortunately there are enough dancers around you to hide you from the public eye. You hear the music approaching its end, you will soon be able to get him some fresh air. 

His head slides against your skin and you turn back your attention to him, suddenly keenly aware of how close you really are. You can feel his breath on your mouth and it’s getting closer, you're stunned by this and wait without moving, with butterflies in your stomach and blood rushing to your cheeks. 

Is it happening? Are you dreaming?

You wait expectantly, your mouth is slightly agape and ready to embrace his. You hold your breath as your lips are nearly about to touch. 

But at the decisive moment his face slide from your forehead to the side, laying his 

head on your shoulder and the music ends. You catch your breath unknowing if you must be relieved or hurt. Your hands leave their place to grab his arms, trying to raise him, you can feel his high temperature on your skin. The couples are slowly leaving the dancefloor and you will soon be the last one.

“(y/n), please… Escort me outside…” He says breathlessly.

You pass your arm under his and he raises back up. His sight is straight and his step is solid like always. You both cross the room without difficulty between guests, people tend to move off of his way and tonight is no exception, especially under his burning gaze. Nobody would suspect a thing with his adamant behavior but his trembling fingers didn't lie to you.

You pass the arches of the room and immediately turn into a less busy corridor, away from the scrutiny of the other guests you feel his body weighing more and more into your arms so much you’re convinced he’s gonna fall on you at any moment.

“Come on.” you try to cheer him up. “We’re gonna find you an open window.”

“Yes, I…”

He doesn't finish his sentence, he takes support on a nearby wall and takes his head into his head like he is floored by an atrocious headache. You look at him in dreadful powerlessness, and run back full speed to the ballroom, looking for the only person that comes to your mind in such a situation. 

“Eli! Help!”

@bluechiss, @al-astakbar

[zablife]

The Last Supper

Requested by @evita-shelby for my 2K celebration An Evening at Arrow House. Warning: This is a dark fic 💀

A/N: Eva Shelby is an OC belonging to @evita-shelby. She is the new Mrs. Shelby in this fic instead of Y/n. Guest list for this party: Darby Sabini, Alfie Solomons, Michael and Gina Gray, Jack Nelson.

“Are you ready for tonight, my love?” Eva asked, straightening Tommy’s bow tie. She studied his face for any sign of hesitation or anxiety. His family had been cruel in recent weeks, unaccepting of his choice to marry a foreign woman they’d never met. Eva could have cared less what they thought, focused only on her new husband and the unique bond they shared. However, she worried about his fragile mental state, the breakdown which caused him to flee the UK less than a year ago still too fresh to be tested by caustic relatives and duplicitous business associates.

Tommy grasped her hands and kissed the inside of her wrists tenderly. “I’ll be fine as long as I have you. I only need you,” he reminded her. Eva inhaled deeply, a sense of love and devotion overwhelming her. In her whole life there had only been one man who stirred these emotions within her. Sometimes the need to protect him frightened her, the deeds she would be capable of without compunction. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him toward her in a searing kiss. 

“I love you, Tommy,” she murmured against his lips.

“I never doubt that, Evie,” he replied, with a squeeze to her hip. 

———————

Eva had spared no expense for their dinner party, a footman for every guest, the finest wine and carefully planned menu were all part of her plan to create an unforgettable evening. In an attempt to recreate the meal over which Tommy had proposed in Paris, she even hired a French chef. Not everyone knew how to prepare ortolan and it had to be done correctly as it was to be the pinnacle of the meal.

Satisfied that the cocktail hour had passed without incident, Eva sat listening to the ebb and flow of conversation at the dinner table. She busied herself watching those gathered before her, ensuring their comfort like any good host. When the waiters finally placed the next course before Tommy’s carefully chosen family members and associates, gasps could be heard echoing through the room. Some murmured whispers of confusion and others of mild disgust at the cadaverous little golden bird at the center of their plate.

Michael, who was seated next to Tommy, was the first to voice a complaint. “She couldn’t have served a roast?” he spat.

Tommy smirked at his cousin’s reaction to the dish, a gentle shake of his head indicating that wasn’t how his wife operated. “That’s my Evie. She’s quite unique,” he boasted.

Suddenly Eva’s voice rose above the din. She straightened regally in her chair at the end of the table like a queen holding court as she explained her unusual choice. “It’s ortolan, a most sinful delicacy I thought all of you might enjoy. Would you like to know why they're so delicious?” she asked no one in particular. Her lips curled into a devilish smile that left her companions shifting uncomfortably in their seats as she continued. "They capture these tiny creatures and force them into darkness where they gorge themselves on grain and figs. When they’ve doubled in size, they’re drowned in Armagnac and roasted whole.”

Thoroughly unimpressed, Gina scrunched her nose at the sight of her food before rolling her eyes. “I suppose they eat this vile sort of thing in Mexico?”

Eva’s jaw clenched momentarily, eyes flicking up to meet Gina’s as the candlelight reflecting in her irises seemed to mirror the fire inside her. “I told you, it’s French and very exclusive. Try it,” she insisted through clenched teeth.

“It’s true, it's quite rare. People are lucky to taste it even once,” Tommy explained.

“And how is it that Thomas Shelby is fortunate enough to have tasted this delicacy twice in one lifetime? Isn’t that a bit gluttonous?” Darby Sabini asked, his prominent lisp making his last word sound particularly accusatory.

“You would speak of my husband’s greed at his own dinner table?” Eva asked with raised eyebrow, moments away from telling everyone in the room what she knew of his own cupidity and egotism.

A booming laugh came from further down the table as Alfie Solomons exclaimed, “Fuck me, a bloody parrot on a plate! Well, I'll give it a go. How do we eat this, dove?” he asked, gathering his knife and fork with gusto.

“You pick it up by the head like so and eat it feet first,” Eva demonstrated, wincing slightly at the scalding temperature before delicately placing it back on her dish. “When the bones begin to crack ever so delicately in your mouth, the fat will mix with the delicious flavor of the organs on your tongue. There’s nothing like it,” she assured him.

“That’s monstrous!” Gina cried, staring at her host in horror.

Eva grinned wickedly. “Don’t worry, that’s what the napkin is for. To drape over your head to hide your face from God.”

“Can’t say it’s the worst I’ve ever done,” Jack Nelson chuckled as he grasped his napkin in his right hand, ready to accept the gruesome challenge.

“Exactemente,” Eva said with an encouraging nod of her head. “On my count everyone,” she said, manicured hand reaching for her own napkin as she gave a wink to Tommy. She counted down from five as she watched her hesitant guests fumble slightly, a few nervous glances exchanged as heads disappeared quickly under the linen cloths. A rush of quick inhales permeated the air as everyone rushed the piping hot delicacy to their mouths. Eva’s muffled voice could be heard beneath her own napkin as she finished the count. “Two, one,” she said breathlessly, covering the steps of the waiting footmen behind each guest.

For a brief moment the only sound that could be heard all around her was the abrasive crunching of bones, evidence of the devoured birds and the little sin committed. Just another in a long list for these damned souls, she thought.

“Tell me what you eat and I’ll tell you what you are,” Tommy and Eva had been told in Paris when they first consumed the dish. The words echoed in Eva’s mind as she braced for the shots that rang out next, followed by the clatter of china and crystal. Removing her napkin carefully, she surveyed the lifeless bodies of her husband's enemies slumped over the table, blood seeping onto their plates through their makeshift executioner's hoods.

The assassins dressed as footmen folded their aprons as Tommy instructed, "Tell Johnny Dogs to light the fire now."

"And tell the chef to prepare the next course," Eva added before they filed out of the room.

When she was finally alone with her husband, she noted how he too still held the delicate bird in his hand, uneaten.

"Shall we?" he asked, raising his napkin invitingly.

"I don't feel ashamed, do you?" she asked, tossing the linen aside with a smile.

"No," he replied with a decisive shake of his head.

"Then let God watch," she answered, eating her ortolan in one bite.

-----------

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[foreveranevilregal]

Encantober Day 18: Sleep

It was the night of Antonio’s gift ceremony. Tensions were running high in the Madrigal household. All day, Pepa had endured snide little asides from various townspeople about how they hoped this gift ceremony wasn’t as bad as the last one. As if reminding her of her fear would help anything! Somehow, she resisted the urge to throttle that oblivious Osvaldo and instead focused on picking out fireworks for the celebration; something bright for her little boy so filled with brightness.

She had been running around all day, finishing up last minute things. It took longer than she thought since she hadn’t slept well the night before. Too many worries about what could go wrong today swarmed in her head to allow her to rest. To keep up her flagging energy, she snuck off to the kitchen for a cup of coffee after breakfast…and lunch. The cup she’d had with breakfast just wasn’t enough to stave off her exhaustion. Sure, her hands were trembling, but at least there was no way she’d fall asleep with how hard her heart was pounding.

Everyone was feeling the tension. All the Madrigals were doing their part to make sure tonight would go smoothly, but there was an undercurrent of unease running through the house. Stupid little things just kept going wrong. Isabela’s beautiful flowers wilted as soon as she hung them up. Luisa dropped the piano- the resulting discordant thud thrummed through the courtyard. Even Julieta had burned the arepas; something that hadn’t happened since they were children. Pepa guessed it was because they were feeling stressed too, but she couldn’t afford for anything else to go wrong.

Eventually, all the issues got resolved. A quick mist with some water perked the flowers right up. Julieta made more arepas, perfectly cooked this time. And the piano was fine where it was. They could just dance around it. The crises were fixed. Nothing else would go wrong tonight.

Her heart did a little pitter-patter when she saw Antonio enter the room. His cream suit fitted him perfectly despite his recent growth spurt, making him look very handsome and grown up. Ay, she couldn’t believe her last baby was growing up! It felt like only yesterday when she held him in her arms, rocking him to sleep. Now, he was preparing to receive his own Madrigal gift that would shape his life and allow him to contribute to the community.

She noticed with a wistful smile that he had some crumbs crusting around the corners of his lips. Licking her thumb, she used it to wipe off the crumbs. Maybe her little boy was still little after all.

The anxiety that she’d mostly managed to keep to a low hum crescendoed as the time for the ceremony finally arrived. Feeling overwhelmed, she watched with detached determination as he climbed up the stairs, his eyes darting nervously around the crowd. Her lips pressed together worriedly as he finally reached the top of the staircase. Would everything turn out well? Would he get his Madrigal gift, like the rest of his family members, save one? Or would he also be skipped over like Mirabel? Was it possible their family just wasn’t going to get gifts anymore? Had their blessings finally come to an end?

The questions bounced around her head frantically as he took the candle from his abuela. Her stomach twisted into knots, observing, horrorstricken, as the candle slid down through the grip of his sweaty palms, and Pepa knew. This was it. No more Madrigal gifts. For some reason, the tradition was over, and she didn’t even dare to look over at her mamá. Pepa already knew how disappointed she would be when Antonio tried opening his door and nothing happened. And then Antonio would look to her for guidance and comfort when she had none to give him. What could she possibly say to make it better?

The sheer terror she felt ripped her out of the dream. Her eyes bolted open and she gasped for breath. It was the middle of the night. Everything was pitch black and quiet. Félix slumbered soundly next to her.

He turned to his side, facing her, and reached out an arm towards her.

Impulsively, she grabbed his hand for comfort. It was big and warm, and she traced the lines in his palm to try and soothe herself.

Félix frowned in his sleep. “You awake, Pepi?” He murmured, his voice heavy with sleep.

“Yeah,” she whispered, surprised she could say anything at all with how tight her throat felt.

“Did you have another nightmare?”

Another nightmare? No. Just the same nightmare she’d been having all week. Antonio’s ceremony was coming up in a few days, and the worries plaguing her had rolled in from the horizon like a terrible storm. “It’s nothing,” she deflected.

Félix fumbled around in the darkness, wrapping Pepa in a clumsy hug. “Go back to sleep,” he encouraged.

Wind whipped her hair against her face. She couldn’t blame him for not waking up. He’d been working so hard lately, and he slept like the dead to recover. Unlike him, she was a light sleeper, and bad dreams tended to wake her up. It had been like this since she was a kid. Pepa had accepted that she just wasn’t destined to get a good night’s sleep. But she hadn’t had the same recurring nightmare so many times in a row since before her wedding. The first time she’d had this nightmare, Félix had listened to her sweetly, but couldn’t understand why she was so worried.

“So what if Antonio doesn’t end up getting a gift?” he had asked. “Will we love him less? Hell no! And if we don’t see him any differently, why would it matter if anyone else does?”

Because mamá’s opinion haunted her like a specter her entire life, Pepa had thought to herself. She knew Félix wouldn’t understand. His parents, and her mamá, all adored him. Pepa’s relationship with her mamá was more…complicated. No matter how much she tried, Pepa never felt good enough for her. The best thing she had done in her mother’s eyes was marry Félix. It felt like that decision finally gained her approval. Of course, Pepa agreed with this assessment, but it also served as a painful reminder that her mother’s approval wasn’t so freely given. Félix didn’t understand what it felt like to jump through hoops to gain his parents’ favor, so he never understood why her mamá’s opinion mattered so much to her. He took for granted what he got so easily.

Sighing in frustration, she got out of bed. Having experienced many a sleepless night, she knew lying in bed and trying to fall back asleep would be pointless. She was far too anxious to try to sleep. Her body was flooded with energy, like a windup toy that someone had decided to wind way too many times. Sleep simply wasn’t possible with the thoughts screaming for her attention and the relentless pounding of her heart.

She slipped out of the room, closing the door behind herself quietly so as not to wake Félix. Moonlight bathed the hallway in a silvery glow, giving it an ethereal feel. For a moment, Pepa felt like she was wandering through her dreams. But the hallway was deserted, so silent that it threatened to swallow Pepa whole. She traipsed aimlessly up and down the hall, touching the doors of each of her children’s rooms lovingly, making sure to be extra quiet at Dolores’ room. Idly, she wondered if Dolores could hear the incessant beating of her heart, then shook the ridiculous thought away.

She did a few laps around the upper floor of casita, trying to burn off the nervous energy before she could work up the nerve to see Antonio. Her feet felt like lead as she trudged around, absolutely exhausted, but too keyed up to sleep.

Eventually, she dragged herself to the nursery. Its door was cracked open, allowing Pepa to peer inside. Antonio wasn’t in his bed like she expected him to be. Instead, he was curled up next to Mirabel, his wild curls barely peeking out over the blanket. The sight warmed Pepa’s heart. Those two loved each other so much, it was almost as if Mirabel was another big sister to Antonio.

Pepa smiled wanly. She was struggling to form coherent thoughts. The desperate need for sleep clouded over her mind. All she knew was, she found it comforting that Antonio had Mirabel. Even if he didn’t end up getting a gift, he wouldn’t be alone in his situation. He’d have a wonderful role model to help him through it.

And, Pepa thought with a yawn, she was so tired of caring about what her mamá would think. She was a grown woman with a husband and children, for crying out loud. If her mamá dared say anything bad about her kids, well…that wedding day hurricane would look like a light drizzle.

Satisfied with this thought, she went back to her bedroom. The abject terror she had been feeling had left her body. All she felt now was a deep tiredness that pulled her down into the mattress. She loved her family. Nothing else mattered. The thought finally lulled her to sleep.