#slowly but surely adding these two into the regular cast

[chloesimaginationthings]

Why is he kinda...

These two asks were right next to each other, and I think that’s beautiful

[peterparkouryo]

fell from the sky into my lap | ⍣ ೋ

⍣ ೋ

prompt; You encounter a very charming boy on the train.

warning: fluff, fluff, and did i mention fluff?

word count: 1.5k

a/n: meet cute!! i missed writing <3 (also ignore the fact that i used this gif once b4, feel free to send me tom gifs for future fics 😭)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist

You step out of Midtown High, the warm afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pavement. You had decided to stay after school, opting to have a small study session with a few of your friends for an upcoming test for the gruesome mathematics class, also known as calculus. The weight of your backpack pulls slightly at your shoulders as you make your way down the stairs of the school building, balmy wind blusters against your skin. Descending down the stairs finally, you keep your head down and walk across the football field, creating a safe distance between you and the ongoing practice taking place. 

What seemed forever, but in reality was maybe a good two to three minute walk off the school grounds, you head toward the train station. The familiar hum of chatter and the rhythmic clack of shoes on the sidewalk fill the air, blending into a comforting soundtrack of the end of the school day.

As you approach the station, the distant sound of a train horn echoes, signalling its arrival. Just in time, you thought to yourself. You quicken your pace, the excitement of heading home, mixed with the anticipation of the journey itself, propelling you forward. The station is a bustling hub of activity, with students, commuters, and travelers weaving in and out of the crowd.

You swipe your transit card at the turnstile, the beep granting you passage onto the platform. The cool, metallic scent of the train station mingles with the faint aroma of fresh coffee from the nearby café. You glance up at the electronic display board, noting the arrival time of your train. It's right on schedule.

The train glides into the station with a soft hiss of brakes and a rush of wind. The doors slide open, inviting you inside. You step onto the train, the cool air conditioning a welcome relief from the warmth outside. You find a seat by the window and settle in, reaching into your backpack and digging through to find your wired headphones, despite begging your parents for regular ones.

You open your phone, clicking the green app for music, scrolling through many playlists you've obsessively created for various different scenarios. Picking a playlist you don't remember creating, you let out a tired yawn and sit back, wandering your eyes to the left, and daydreaming  about your bed. 

The train ride was relatively quiet, aside from a crying baby (not that you could hear it, but breaking your daydream to observe your surroundings, you could see a crying baby), and the loud music blasting in your ears. 

For the next six minutes, the music from your headphones consumed your ears, guaranteed to worsen your hearing in the next twenty years or so. You were at an unusual ease you normally don't feel when you're alone on a train by yourself. It could do with the fact that there was maybe five or six people onboard, you weren't too sure.

You lay your head back against the seat and stare out the window, the passing buildings rapidly leaving your vision. A bored sigh leaves your lips, the spotify ad only adding onto the exhaustion you felt. 

The train stops, indicating people were either leaving or stepping on the train, and you tear your gaze away from the window out of curiosity, watching a couple people swipe their transit cards. You notice the last person, a boy with hair as brown as a bear, swipe his card more than once, and you can only assume something was wrong.

The more you watch the boy struggle, the more you feel bad because not only was the operator getting impatient, the passengers moan and groan as well. Slowly you dig into your pocket for your card, standing up and swiftly walking to the front of the train. Showing the boy a friendly smile, you glance at the operator, who's eyebrows were furrowed and a permanent frown carved onto his face.

"Um, he can use my card." You say unsurely, not entirely positive thats even how transit cards work.

The man narrows his eyes and stares between you and the boy for a good while before he exhales a huff.

"Go ahead, you're holding up my line." He mumbles and you furrow your eyebrows and glance behind you, seeing that it was only the boy and no one else, but you decide not to say anything about it.

You swipe the transit card, watching the red dot change to green, and the boy sighs in relief.

"Thank you." He says, watching your every move as you put your card back into your pocket.

You nod and your eyes drift to his face, studying him carefully, because boy, he was gorgeous. The boy had eyes just as brown as his hair, maybe even a little lighter with the golden specks straggling within them. If anyone was lucky (such as yourself) to stand so close to him, one might be able to see the small barely visible, but undeniably delightful freckles scattered across his nose.

Your eyes trail down to his lips, but not in a weird way, the small smile etched on his face captivated you and deep in your stomach, you swore you felt butterflies erupt. The smile was warm and inviting, and one of his most endearing features, capable of lighting up his entire face. It gave him a friendly, yet approachable demeanour. 

He was the kind of person who had the-boy-next-door kind of vibe, and you can't help but gaze longer than intended, making him uncomfortable in a way you had no intentions of doing.

So, you clear your throat, and quickly look at your shoes. 

"Its no problem." You mutter.

There's a standstill silence between the two of you, the murmur of passengers, the rustling of bags and the occasional ring of a phone not helping the awkwardness you felt whatsoever.

Eventually, the boy shows you yet another charming smile, walking past you to sit in a nearby seat. You return to yours and try your hardest not to stare at the boy diagonally across from you.

There's a standstill silence between the two of you, the murmur of passengers, the rustling of bags and the occasional ring of a phone not helping the awkwardness you felt whatsoever.

Eventually, the boy shows you yet another charming smile, walking past you to sit in a nearby seat. You return to yours and try your hardest not to stare at the boy diagonally across from you.

That challenge, however quickly crashes when you glance at him only to see him gazing back, in a way that wasn't entirely creepy, but cumbersome for the both of you. You do your best to show him a smile, cringing slightly when you realize its more of a nervous grimace than what you intended.

Though, he shows no signs of being weirded out by your so called "smile", he waves as you wave back. A rush of warmth and pleasantry overtakes you when he looks away. You'd think this is the first time any boy has ever showed you this much attention, no matter how little it might have been.

Minutes pass in a blur as the train carries you forward, each moment seamlessly blending into the next. Ultimately, you reach your stop and you gather your things, albeit a bit reluctantly. As you leave, you bite your lower lip and share a scrutiny when you walk past him, making your exit off the train.

While you step off the train, and make it your mission to ascend up the stairs, a hand purchases on your shoulder causing you to flinch fearfully, many thoughts running through your head as you make the stupid decision to turn around to face the culprit.

 All fears subside once you meet the familiar chestnut brown eyes of the boy from the train.

He realizes your initial fear and holds up your tangled headphones. "You left these on the train." He blinks.

"Thank you." You obligate, retrieving the headphones from his hand.

The boy nods and buries his hands in his pocket, unwieldy looking around.

You tilt your head as a thought comes about.

"Is this your stop?" You wonder.

He breaks his train of thought and stares right at you before laughing awkwardly. "Um, no my stop was actually three more blocks away." He informs and guilt fills you at that information.

"Oh, I'm sorry," You apologize, frowning.

He shakes his head quickly. 

"No, its fine I was just going to stop at Delmar's anyway." He reassures and smiles, holding out his hand.

"Also, I'm Peter by the way, Peter Parker." 

You return the smile and shake Peter's hand at his dorky introduction, speaking your name in greeting.

"I know, we share a gym class." Peter says.

You blink at the revelation, having no idea he even went to Midtown. Small world, you think.

"Anyway, is it okay if I walk you up the stairs, in a non weird way that seems creepy." Peter offers shyly, interrupting the barely there silence. There was something about his adorably dunce proposal that made you appreciate him despite only knowing the boy for ten minutes at most.

"Sure." You agree all too eagerly.

With new found courage, you and Peter make your way up the stairs of the train station and you're greeted with the bustling New York city, of what you can only describe as chaotic, honking cars and fellow civilians either on their arguing or arguing on their phones.

You felt excited to be walking next to Peter, no matter how small your interactions have been or how little you two new each other, you were grateful for his presence.

Grateful that you decided to take the train. Had you would've walked, only god knows what could've happened, the foreign feeling of butterflies in your stomach would not had been, that's for certain.

taglist: @victoriousskylar @imawhoreforu @myfangirlinessononeblog

shoutout to the divider account: @saradika-graphics

[misshoneyimhome]

500 FOLLOWERS FESTIVAL

“You can rest your head on me, I don’t mind.” I Joseph Woll ✿

Requested: yes/no [I hope this is close to what you imagined bb]

Summary: From the moment Joseph Woll steps into the small café, everything shifts. Despite the shadows of your past, no one seems a better match than the goaltender in his shining hockey gear.

Tropes & warnings: no warnings, it's just pure fluff 😊��� strangers to lovers, hesitant reader, adorable boyfriend!Joe x reader

Other notes: At our next stop for the Followers Festival, I'm thrilled to introduce Joseph Woll once more 🤗 He’s as charming as ever, and with his extension with the Leafs, he remains close to our hearts ❤️

Word count: 3.6K

➼｡ﾟ

When you started your shift as nothing but a regular barista on this seemingly ordinary July morning, you had no idea what the day had in store for you. The air was already warm and slightly humid, typical for Toronto in midsummer, and the sun peeked through the buildings, casting a soft golden glow on the cobblestone streets. You took a deep breath, savouring the stillness of the early morning before the city fully awoke. Everything seemed perfectly normal.

You unlocked the doors of the small, cosy café, tucked away in one of the hidden corners of the city, its charm known only to locals and a few lucky tourists. The scent of freshly baked pastries from the bakery next door mingled with the aroma of coffee beans, creating a comforting atmosphere that always lifted your spirits. You spent the first hour preparing to open, moving through the familiar routine with practised ease. The rich, earthy scent of coffee filled the air as you ground the beans, the soft hiss of the espresso machine breaking the silence.

The café itself was a quaint little place, with mismatched furniture that somehow fit together perfectly. Vintage posters adorned the walls, and small potted plants added a touch of greenery. You arranged the pastries in the display case, making sure the croissants, muffins, and cookies looked enticing. You wiped down the tables, fluffed the cushions on the worn leather sofas, and set up the chalkboard sign outside, detailing the day's specials in your best attempt at fancy handwriting.

Despite the tranquillity of the café, your mind was a whirlwind. It was going to be a slow Sunday, just what you needed after the stressful week you had endured. The memories of several heated arguments with your now ex-boyfriend played on a loop in your head, as the fights had been intense, filled with hurtful words and accusations. Yet, the breakup, though painful, had brought a strange sense of relief. You were free from the constant tension, but the wounds were still fresh, and the loneliness was starting to creep in.

_

It had been everything you dreaded. The two of you had been together for three years, slowly growing older together. But you were both still very young, only 20 years old, just stepping into adulthood and trying to navigate the complexities that came with it.

You worked your part-time job at the café alongside your studies in English literature, as you had always been captivated by romance novels, losing yourself in stories of passionate love and soulmates. You dreamed of experiencing the kind of love that made your heart race and your breath catch. But your boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend as of two days ago—was far from any of the book boyfriends you’d read about. He was sweet and kind, sure, and he treated you well enough and never harmed you. Yet, you never felt like you were truly in love, like how they described it in those books. You never had the flutter in your stomach or the difficulty in breathing just thinking of him. Your palms didn’t get sweaty, and your knees didn’t go weak. You could think perfectly logically, and you never longed for him when you were apart.

With your ex, you simply felt secure. It was as though you were fulfilling the norms and expectations of society by finding a partner to settle down with. Everything was planned. When you’d both finished your studies, you’d then move in together after finding secure jobs and a stable income. And then you’d prioritise building a family after your wedding. It was all mapped out.

But you couldn’t help but feel like it was all wrong. Over the years, he grew less sweet and kind, becoming more rude and cruel in the way he spoke to you. His once gentle words turned harsh, and his patience wore thin over the smallest things. You had never been an explorer in regards to sexual activity, yet he’d encouraged you to try things out with him. Though a part of you felt pressured, you went along with it, but you never truly experienced the wonderful high many women spoke of. It was more just him doing his thing while you followed along until he reached his release. It felt wrong. It was nothing like you imagined a romantic relationship should feel like. Nothing like the tales you read about.

As time went on, you grew more convinced that those stories were just that—stories. The passionate love, the soulmates, the fairy tale endings—they all seemed like fantasies, unattainable and unrealistic. Your relationship had become a checklist of societal expectations rather than a journey of love and discovery. Moreover, your boyfriend wasn’t as good a person as you’d thought all those years. And though the realisation was painful, it also brought a sense of clarity. You knew you couldn’t continue living a life that felt so hollow, so far removed from the dreams you once cherished.

And so, you made the difficult decision to end things. For the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope, a belief that perhaps, somewhere out there, the kind of love you had read about in your beloved romance novels could exist for you.

_

You took a moment for yourself, leaning against the counter and closing your eyes. The café was your sanctuary, a place where you could escape from the chaos of your personal life. Here, you could lose yourself in the rhythm of making coffee, the friendly chatter of regular customers, and the peaceful ambience. You embraced the day with a smile, determined to find solace in the simple joys of your job.

So, as you flipped the sign to "Open," you took another deep breath, ready to face whatever the day might bring. The familiar routine was comforting, and you hoped the slow yet steady stream of customers would help keep your mind off your troubles. Little did you know, this ordinary July morning was about to turn into something far from ordinary.

And his name was Joseph Woll.

You were wiping down the counter when the bell above the door chimed, announcing the arrival of a new customer. You looked up and were greeted by a tall figure stepping inside, shaking off the light drizzle that had just begun outside. At first, you didn’t recognise him. His scruffy beard was a departure from the clean-shaven look he sported in all the pictures and interviews you had seen. Yet, it added a rugged charm to his already handsome face. But then, his eyes—those dreamy, captivating eyes—met yours, and it hit you. Joseph Woll, the Toronto Maple Leafs goaltender, was standing right in front of you.

Joseph approached the counter with a relaxed smile, his presence bringing warmth to the otherwise dull day. "Good morning," he said, his voice soft yet confident. "Can I get a medium latte, please?"

You could hardly believe it. Here was a professional athlete, a local celebrity, standing in your little café. Yet, you managed to respond, though a bit shakily, "Of course, coming right up."

And as you began preparing his order, you couldn't help but steal glances at him. He was casually dressed in a hoodie and jeans, yet he carried himself with a relaxed elegance. You noticed how his eyes scanned the café, taking in the cosy decor, the mismatched furniture, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. And when his gaze then returned to you, there was a softness in his expression that made your heart skip a beat.

Joseph was an absolute sweetheart.

You felt his eyes linger on you a little longer than perhaps they should have, just like yours lingered on him. It was as if there was an inexplicable connection, a silent understanding that passed between you. Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you hoped he didn't notice the blush creeping up your neck.

You were almost unable to speak, yet you managed to say the simple words any barista would instinctively say to a customer. "Here you go, one medium latte." Your hands felt slightly shaky as you handed him the cup, but you managed to keep your composure.

Joseph took the coffee with a grateful nod. "Thanks," he said, his eyes twinkling.

As he turned to leave, you couldn't help but mentally facepalm yourself. What’s wrong with me? you muttered under your breath. It was the first time someone, let alone a stranger, had made you feel so weak in the knees, caused your heartbeat to quicken, and your lips to tingle.

You watched him walk out into the drizzle, the bell above the door chiming softly as he left. It was just a brief encounter, a one-off experience, and you knew you’d probably never see him again. Yet, you felt a thrill you hadn’t experienced in a long time—a flutter of excitement that lingered long after he was gone.

For the rest of your shift, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. Every time the door opened, you found yourself hoping it was him coming back - the memory of his kind eyes and warm smile stayed with you, a small beacon of light in an otherwise grey day. Even though you knew it was probably unlikely, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. It was a sensation you’d thought was reserved for fairy tales, a feeling that maybe, just maybe, those romance stories you adored could hold a kernel of truth.

However, to your great surprise, the following Sunday, Joseph came back. It was the same early morning time, just as the sun was starting to break through the clouds and cast a soft light into the café. The shop was quiet, with only a few regulars occupying the cosy corners. When the door opened and the bell chimed, you looked up to see him standing there, a familiar, charming smile spreading across his face.

"Good morning," he greeted, his voice warm and friendly. "One medium latte, please,” he placed his order, and you noticed how his eyes seemed to light up when they met yours.

"Coming right up," you nodded, trying to keep your composure, but inside, your heart was racing. 

And as you prepared his drink, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him again, feeling that familiar flutter in your stomach. When you then handed him the latte, he thanked you with that same sweet smile before turning to leave. The bell chimed again as he exited, and you found yourself staring after him once more, a small, hopeful smile on your lips.

The next time you saw Joseph was on Wednesday evening, when you were working an extra shift to earn a bit more money during the summer. The café was busier this time, with a steady stream of customers keeping you on your toes. Yet, as you were in the middle of making a cappuccino, you saw him walk in again, causing your heart to skip a beat, and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

He waited patiently while you finished the order you were working on, and when it was his turn, you shared a silent moment of recognition. "Medium latte?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, please," he replied with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling. 

And as you yet again prepared his drink, you felt his gaze on you, and you couldn’t help but look up. Your eyes met, and for a moment, it felt as though the rest of the world faded away. You then handed him his drink, and he offered a quiet thank you before turning to leave. Yet, just as he reached the door, he glanced back, catching you looking in his direction - causing you to quickly look away, feeling your cheeks flush.

"Shit…" you muttered to yourself, slightly embarrassed.

Over a week passed before you saw Joseph again, this time on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Most people were out enjoying the lovely weather, so the café was relatively quiet. And with only one other coworker busy chatting with a friend, you decided to pick up one of your favourite romance novels to pass the time.

You had no idea how long you had been absorbed in your book when a familiar, endearing voice suddenly broke into your dream world. "What are you reading?"

Startled, you looked up to see Joseph standing there, his handsome face alight with curiosity. "Oh, um… it’s just a silly romance… nothing special," you stammered, feeling a bit self-conscious.

"It must be pretty engaging if you were so absorbed," he chuckled. "I think I’ve been standing here for about ten minutes and you didn’t even notice me."

"Oh my god, I’m so sorry about that," you quickly apologised, feeling rather unprofessional.

But Joseph simply laughed, waving off your apology. "It’s fine. It was actually quite entertaining watching you read."

You felt your cheeks flush a little. "So… the usual?" you asked, trying to steer the conversation back to familiar ground.

"Yes, please. And maybe you could help me with something else…" he trailed off, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"Sure, anything," you replied, curious.

"So, how many times do I have to come here and hope that you’re working before it doesn’t seem weird for me to ask for your name and number?" he asked, his tone playful yet sincere.

You found yourself gasping, completely caught off guard. "Well… um… maybe… this could be the final one?" you managed to say, a shy smile forming on your lips. “I’m y/n.” 

Joseph’s smile widened, and he handed you his phone. "Great. Here you go. I’m Joe by the way.” 

With trembling fingers, you then typed in your name and number, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. And as you handed his phone back, you couldn’t help but feel that this might be the beginning of something special, something that could finally make you believe in the kind of love you had always dreamed of.

_

Dating Joseph Woll turned out to be remarkably close to what you’d imagined from your romance novels, and it felt as though the universe had conspired to make your dreams come true. And with it being the hockey off-season, Joseph had plenty of time to spend with you, and he made every moment count.

Your early dates were a delightful blend of excitement and comfort. Joseph would pick you up with a thoughtful compliment and occasionally a bouquet of your favourite flowers. You visited cosy cafes, museums, explored Toronto’s hidden gems, and enjoyed long walks by the lake, where he’d hold your hand and listen intently to your stories and dreams.

One evening, he then surprised you with a picnic at a quiet spot in High Park. And as you sat together on a chequered blanket, sharing laughter and homemade sandwiches, you felt a deep sense of contentment. Joseph’s gentle, caring nature made you feel cherished in a way you’d never experienced before. His eyes often lingered on you with a tenderness that made your heart flutter, and every touch, every gentle kiss, felt like a promise of something beautiful and romantic.

Then during another one of your dates, you found yourself at a quaint bookstore. And as you browsed through the shelves, Joseph noticed you eyeing a romance novel. Quietly, while you were distracted, he decided to purchase it and later that evening, he presented it to you with a shy smile. "I thought you might enjoy this," he said, his eyes twinkling with delight. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to you.

Except for one week when he had to go home to St. Louis, Joseph was always around. During that week, you missed him terribly, but he made sure the distance didn’t feel so great. You chatted or called every day, sharing the little details of your lives, your hopes, and your dreams. His voice over the phone was a comforting balm, and his laughter a melody that brightened your days. And as the days passed, you both exchanged pictures and videos, keeping the connection strong despite the miles between you.

And the week apart only strengthened your bond. When Joseph finally returned, he wrapped you in a tight embrace, lifting you off your feet as he whispered how much he had missed you. The separation had only made your hearts grow fonder, and you realised that this was the kind of love you had always dreamed of—a love that was patient, kind, and unwavering.

Joseph had a way of turning even the simplest moments into something magical. Whether you were cooking together, watching a movie, or simply enjoying a comfortable silence, he made you feel like the most important person in the world. His steadfast support and understanding helped you heal from the wounds of your past relationship, and for the first time in a long while, you felt genuinely happy. And as the summer days gave way to crisp autumn evenings, your relationship with Joseph only continued to flourish. 

_

However, as you and Joseph grew closer, he began to notice the subtle signs of your hesitation. Despite the kisses and intimate moments you shared, he observed how you occasionally tensed up or hesitated before fully relaxing into his embrace. There were times when, while wrapped in each other's arms, he could sense a flicker of uncertainty in your eyes or a momentary withdrawal in your touch. It was as if you were constantly bracing yourself, hesitant to fully surrender to the emotions you were feeling.

So, Joseph chose to approach you with a gentle patience that he didn’t mind at all. His priority was to make you feel completely at ease with him. He focused on ensuring that every touch was tender, every word was kind, and he never pressured you into anything more than you were ready to give. He believed in creating a space where you felt safe and cherished. Every date, every conversation, and every shared moment was filled with understanding and care. He became attuned to your needs, ensuring that his actions and words always conveyed his respect for your boundaries.

But one evening, as autumn shadows began to lengthen and the first hints of a chilly breeze crept through the open windows, something felt off. It might have been the stress of the new hockey season starting or perhaps the quiet, introspective mood you’d been in all night. Joseph couldn’t quite pinpoint the source of your discomfort, but he could sense that something was troubling you. 

So, as you both sat on the couch, the soft glow of the TV casting a gentle light over the room, he turned to you. His expression was serious yet full of concern.

“You can rest your head on me, love, I don’t mind,” he said softly, his voice laced with genuine care. “Or if you need to cry or just need a moment to relax. I don't care. I just want you to feel comfortable and happy with me.”

His words cut through the fog of your thoughts, and you felt a pang in your chest. It was clear that Joseph was offering you an emotional sanctuary, and you knew it was time to open up. You took a deep breath, feeling the warmth and reassurance of his embrace, and finally allowed yourself to lean into him.

“I’ve been cautious about fully committing because of a bad relationship I had before,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “Not that I think you’re anything like that. On the contrary, you’re so perfect that I’m scared of making a mistake.”

Joseph listened attentively, his hand gently stroking your back as you spoke. When you finished, he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his expression a blend of warmth and understanding.

“You don’t have to worry about making mistakes, Y/N,” he said softly. “I want you just the way you are—past relationships and all.”

You exhaled slowly, feeling a mix of relief and vulnerability. “But why? Why are you so patient with me?”

The tenderness in his gaze was unmistakable, and his smile was both gentle and reassuring. “I get it now,” he said quietly, “you’ve never been in love before.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, confusion knitting your brows together.

“Y/N, you could never do anything wrong with me. I am so in love with you that it doesn’t matter what you say or do, as long as it’s not that you don’t want to be with me. All I want is to be with you, to see you happy. And when you’re ready, I’d love to ask you to be my girlfriend.”

You couldn’t help but feel your heart sink as you took in the moment. Here was the sweetest man you’d ever known, and he was with you. The realisation of his unwavering support and love brought tears to your eyes.

“I think… I think I’m in love with you too, Joe,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “You make me feel all those wonderful, amazing, mind-blowing, and indescribable things that no one else ever has.”

Joseph’s smile widened, his eyes shimmering with joy. He pulled you closer, his lips gently brushing your forehead. “That’s all I ever wanted to hear,” he murmured. “I promise to always be here for you, to make you feel loved and cherished every single day.”

And as you nestled into his embrace, a profound sense of peace washed over you. For the first time, you let yourself fully believe in the love you had always dreamed of, knowing that with Joseph, it was not just a dream, but a beautiful reality.

[rainbow-nerdss]

To Stay

written for @augustwritingchallenge day 5: pet sitters Buck/Eddie, 1.3k AO3 link

Buck liked L.A., all things considered. He didn’t want to leave, unlike everywhere else he’d lived up to now.

He didn’t want to leave, he just wished he had a reason to stay.

He’d worked a couple of jobs over the past few years he lived here, but nothing really stuck. He was fine, though. He was getting along just fine, and the guys he lived with were cool.

Plus, one of his current jobs had its perks.

“Freddy!” he called, then whistled. “Penelope!” A chocolate labrador and a french bulldog ran up to him, and he clipped their leashes back on before giving them both proper pets. They licked his face, jumped all over him, and he couldn't help but laugh as they knocked him to the ground in the middle of the dog park. 

Another dog joined in, one he didn’t recognise — an adorable little mutt who seemed like she just wanted to join in the fun. 

“Hey there, bud! What’s your name?” Buck asked, giving her a little scratch behind the ear and checking her collar. 

“Zelda, huh? Great name!” He looked around for a moment, and spotted a woman walking towards him. “She yours?” he asks, when she’s close enough. 

“I’m so sorry!” the woman said, clipping a leash to Zelda’s collar. “She’s my nephew’s. I told him I’d walk her a few days a week because I couldn’t bear to see his son’s disappointed face if he had to say no, but…”

“She’s tough work?” Buck answered the question for her. The woman nodded. “Yeah,” Buck agreed, still petting the dog. “She looks like she’s got some terrier in her.”

“Sorry again. I’m Pepa,” She held out the hand which wasn’t holding the leash, and Buck shook it.

“Buck. Nice to meet you.” He hesitated for a moment, before digging in his pocket. “For what it’s worth, I’m told my prices are pretty good, and I’m open to new clients.”

Pepa took the card he was offering and looked it over. “You know, I might be able to convince him. Thank you, Buck.”

A few weeks passed, and Buck had added Zelda to his regular roster of dogs. He picked her up from Pepa’s house three times a week, walked her for an hour or two, then dropped her back tired enough that she wouldn’t cause any mischief.

Buck loved Zelda, had a soft spot for her ever since he saw the name on her collar. Pepa was great, too, asking him in for lunch every time he dropped the dog back, only accepting no for an answer when he had other dogs to collect or drop off. 

He was walking Zelda on her own one morning, just taking an easy turn around the park, when she suddenly started barking and took off.

Buck swore and started chasing after her. She was always so well behaved, he’d gotten complacent, and now she was running towards the exit of the park, towards a man and a kid, and — oh god, the kid was on crutches, and Zelda jumped up on him. 

Buck finally caught up, gasping an apology. The kid was laughing, at least, crutches cast aside in favor of scritching Zelda behind her ears while she licked his face. 

The dad, on the other hand… He was glaring at Buck. He barely had time to register just how attractive he was as the apology spewed from his mouth.

“I am so sorry, man. She just took off, and I wasn’t expecting it. She’s not usually like this, I—”

“Not usually like this?” The man repeated, cutting him off. “Why are you acting like this is your dog?”

Buck froze, looking at him properly. He began putting the pieces together in his head, the snippets he’d heard from Pepa about her nephew and his kid, the way Zelda had bolted towards them.

“Eddie?” Buck asked. Eddie just frowned deeper, but Buck had a feeling he was right..

“How do you know my dad’s name? And my dog?” The kid asked, still sitting on the grass with Zelda jumping around him.

“Christopher, right?” Buck checked. Christopher nodded, but Eddie stayed stone-faced. “Look, I’m not sure how much Pepa has told you, but I’ve been helping her out, walking Zelda for the past few weeks.”

Eddie’s expression slowly cleared, turning from defensive anger to mild irritation. Buck didn’t get the impression it was fully aimed at him anymore, though.

“Pepa,” he said, exhaling. “Of course.”

Buck fished a card out of his pocket and held it out, watching as Eddie read it. “I assumed she’d told you,” Buck admitted. “I’m sorry, man.”

Eddie sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Look, it’s not your fault. I’m gonna have to have some serious words with my tía about this, but… you weren’t to know.

Buck shrugged, not knowing what to do from here. “For what it’s worth,” he offered. “She was just trying to help you out. And I love hanging out with this one, so—” He knelt down to ruffle Zelda’s fur. 

“You said it’d been a few weeks?” Eddie asked. Buck nodded. 

“I bet that’s why she’s been so good lately!” Christopher chimed in. He turned a serious expression towards Buck. “She used to be really naughty when we brought her home first.”

“Is that so?” Buck asked. “Well, I’m glad I could help her learn some manners, huh?”

Chris laughed at that, and when Buck turned back to Eddie, he saw his expression soften further. 

“Are we cool, man?” Buck asked. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” Buck suspected there wasn’t much Eddie wouldn’t agree to, for the sake of his kid. Buck only met them ten minutes before, but he already understood what Pepa had meant about how hard it was to say no to that face.

“Can Buck and Zelda come with us for pancakes?” Chris asked, using Eddie’s arm and his crutch to stand back up. Buck almost offered help, but followed Eddie’s lead, letting him do it himself. 

Buck glanced at Eddie, waiting to hear what he’d say. 

“I’m sure Buck has other dogs he needs to walk, or somewhere he needs to be,” Eddie said, ruffling Chris’s hair. 

“Do you?” Chris asked, turning his eyes on Buck. 

“Actually, uh… Zelda’s my only dog today, but… I’m sure you and your dad don’t want a total stranger butting in, huh?”

“Nah, c’mon,” Eddie caved in. “I mean, it’s the least I can do, since you’ve been looking after our dog for weeks, apparently.”

So Buck joined them for pancakes, sitting outside the restaurant, Zelda at their feet begging for scraps which Christopher was only too happy to feed her.

They got along well. Eddie had just been accepted at the fire academy, one of those jobs Buck always wondered if he’d be good at but never had a chance to try. He found himself asking question after question, and the more Eddie said about it — though he was still early in the process — the more Buck felt something click.

“Would it be really weird if I applied?” He asked Eddie, as they finished their food. 

Eddie shrugged. “I don’t think so,” he assured Buck. “But who’s gonna walk Zelda if you quit dog walking?”

Buck patted his lap and she jumped on top of him. He grinned as she licked the last traces of syrup from his face. 

“You know, I’m sure I could find time to walk her, off the clock,” he said, making eye contact with Eddie. “She’s my favorite, after all.”

Eddie’s smile was almost shy, but Buck didn’t get a chance to say anything else before his phone lit up with a call.

“It’s Pepa,” he said, with dawning horror. “I was supposed to bring Zelda home an hour ago, she must be worried sick!”

“Tell her you’re on your way,” Eddie told him, a glint in his eye. “We’ll come with you.”

“Oh, she’s busted!” Chris exclaimed, gleeful.

Buck could only laugh. He didn’t know if the answer was firefighting — or maybe it was just these people — but he finally started to feel like he’d found it. 

A reason to stay.

[saynotoshityouhate]

For Science Ch. 5

Ch. 1 // Ch. 2 // Ch. 3 // Ch. 4

Words: 1781

Tags: angst, love, neediness, bathtub sex, he’s too big but (spoiler) we make it work.

It had been three days. Three long, agonizing days since Bruce slammed the front door and ran away. Yesterday he sent a text, asking if he could come home. Seeing his name light up your screen made your heart jump, so happy to know he was safe and coming back to you. You responded with an enthusiastic yes.

He’d never left like this before - you’d never had a fight or had a moment where his emotions took over so badly. Of course you’d welcome him back, you’d never worried he would hurt you. Not anymore - not since he’d found this new happy medium between his two personas. Bruce clearly wasn’t as confident.

It was hard having him gone for those first few days of your new job at the university, and you’d wished he’d been there to laugh at some of the silly mistakes you had made. His bellowing chuckles were some of your favorite noises in the world.

Pulling up the driveway after classes were through, you saw Bruce’s car parked back in its normal place. Your stomach flipped, unsure what to expect, although you were mostly excited to see him.

You quietly opened the back door, walking into the kitchen. Taking off your heels, you heard soft, muffled classical music and smelled lavender and citrus. You smiled, heading straight to the master bath. The door was cracked open slightly, and you could see the warm glow of candles dancing across the shiny tile walls.

You knocked quietly on the door and pushed it open gently, just enough to stick your head inside. “Bruce?”

Bruce’s head was resting against the cool tile behind him, his eyes closed and his breathing regular. He must have just fallen asleep, his large frame filling most of the oversized jacuzzi tub. “Bruce?” You whispered again, awakening him from his dream. His warm eyes met yours, taking a moment to focus and register that you were really there. “Y/N, I -“ Bruce rested his hands on the side of the tub, beginning to push himself up to greet you. “No, no - stay there, you look so peaceful.” You nervously played with the hem of your untucked blouse.

“May I?” You lifted your hands to the top buttons of your blouse, pausing for Bruce’s approval. His adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he nodded, adjusting his dark glasses up the bridge of his nose. You proceeded in unbuttoning your crisp white shirt, setting it off to the side. Your back was turned to the submerged Bruce, but you knew the slight shimmy of your hips as you stepped out of your skirt and panties would excite him.

You backed yourself over to the edge of the tub, presenting your back to Bruce. He loved unclasping your bra for you. He took pride in being able to do it with just a flick of his finger, and seeing the tension leave your back and shoulders filled him with warmth. You moved the straps down your shoulders and dropped it to the floor, reveling in the ease of domestic life with Bruce - even in this uncomfortable silence.

Lowering yourself into the bubbles across from him, you sighed. The last few days had been hard on you, you were worried about Bruce, had started your new job, and had been brainstorming on ways to reverse your boyfriend’s physical predicament. You stretched your legs out in front of you, resting them against Bruce’s thighs. He took one foot in his large hand, rubbing the arch with gentle pressure. Your eyes fluttered closed at the wonderful release.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry for how I reacted.” Bruce’s eyes were cast downwards in shame. “I was so upset with myself, I didn’t want to risk anything happening…” You interrupted him. “No, I overreacted. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m just happy you’re back.” You poked him with your other foot, asking him to do the same magic there as well.

“Where did you go?” You asked timidly, not sure you really wanted to know the answer. “I just went to the tower - Tony left my room as-is…just in case.” You made a noise of acknowledgement, your fingers idly playing with the bubbles that adorned your chest.

“I never stopped thinking about you.” Bruce extended a hand, inviting you to come closer. You accepted, allowing him to pull you onto his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I was scared, Bruce.” He held your face in his hand, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again.”

You kissed him fiercely, as if you wanted him to stop talking before he gave any excuses or reasons to leave again. You couldn’t help the whimpers leaving your chest, three days was a long time for you two to be apart.

Bruce’s cock throbbed against you, eliciting a groan from the large man. “I missed you so much,” he mumbled, nipping and sucking at your neck and collar bone. Moving to straddle his waist, Bruce’s hands found your hips, helping hold you steady.

“I wanna try - I think I can do it - I wanna try.” You ground your hips against his hardening length, your breaths already ragged and uneven. You knew it would hurt, but you wanted to do this for him. You were certainly wet enough. “No, I don’t wanna hurt you, don’t-“

You had your mind made up. Your much smaller hand took Bruce’s from his waist, bringing it to your core. “Stretch me out, please. I need you.” He could never resist you. Slowly inserting one large digit, knuckle by knuckle, his eyes were trained on you, closely monitoring for any inkling of pain or discomfort. You were feeling nothing of the sort. Your head was thrown back, the stretch sending delicious shockwaves through your limbs.

“One more, please” you breathed. “Y/N, I-“ You shot him a look, like daggers from your irises. “One. More. Please.” Bruce sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He adjusted his fingers, slowly adding a second, drawing a moan from deep inside you. “I think - I think I’m ready. Please - give it to me? Let me make you feel good. Please?”

“Baby, I’m not sure about this. Let’s just start here, you’re taking me so well, maybe next time, we gotta take it slow.” You whined, loudly, and bucked your hips down onto his two, thick fingers. The water of the tub splashed over the edge. “Don’t wan’ take it slow, Bruce. Wan’ you - your cock. Puhleeeaase, Bruce.”

“The minute anything starts to hurt, you have to tell me, okay? Promise?” You nodded your head vigorously before pulling him closer and kissing him in gratitude. Bruce slowly removed his digits, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing but the bath water.

Bruce’s eyes were dark with lust, but still maintained the warmth of his concern for you. He held your gaze as he aligned himself with your opening. Every millimeter seemed to take an hour, your breath hitching in your throat as you stretched further to accommodate him. Bruce held your hips tightly, trying to maintain control and composure as you took him so well. It had been years since he felt the velvety warmth of a woman around him.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he continued to move slowly and methodically. You focused on your breathing, in through your nose, out through your mouth - pushing out whines and whimpers along the way. You attempted to hide your face in the crook of his neck, but Bruce pushed you back, wanting to keep an eye on you. “You’re doing so well, my girl, look at you.”

Looking down, you expected to see that he had completely bottomed out inside you, but there was plenty more left to go. His hand held the base, not allowing you to go any further, if that was even possible. You smiled up at him, so proud of yourself, feeling so full.

Bruce’s heart swelled - and he could finally relax knowing you were okay…better than okay really. You began to rock your hips, exploring your body’s limits, feeling the push and pull of Bruce against your walls. It was worth the effort.

You established a comfortable rhythm, riding him slowly, but forcefully. The waves of now lukewarm water splashed around you, adding to the symphony of delicious noises you both were making - the feelings sending you both into nonverbal bliss. Bruce began to tense, and you weren’t far behind. The only one with a free hand, you reached down to access your clit, quickly sending shockwaves of pleasure ripping through you. You clenched down on Bruce’s girth as you climaxed, sending him over the edge with you. His guttural growl sent vibrations through your skin as he filled you up for the very first time. You collapsed into him, every muscle giving out from the pain and exertion.

Bruce held your weakened body in his arms, both of you exhausted beyond belief. The tub had turned cold and you began to shiver. Concerned, he held you tightly with one arm while he used the other to push himself out of the bath. You clung tightly to his neck as he walked you to the bedroom. Placing your down gently, he dried you off with a towel and handed you your robe to snuggle up into before returning to clean up the bathroom. Once you were dressed, you crawled back to the pillows aligned neatly on your bed and waited for Bruce to return.

Wrapped up in your fluffy robe, you nuzzled into Bruce’s chest. “Can I ask you a question?” Your fingers idly traced his chest, droplets of water still gripping the coarse hairs on his sternum. Bruce grunted in the affirmative, his eyelids were heavy the minute his head hit the pillow. “If you could, you know, switch back. Would you?”

Bruce hummed. “I mean, I’ve thought about it. Done some basic calculations, consulted with colleagues…but that was all before.”

“Before what?” You whispered, tipping your head to look up at him, his eyes still closed gently.

“Before you. Before our life together. Before I saw the way your eyes light up when I enter a room. You read about that sort of thing in books, right? But I never knew it was real. And me? Of all people? In this state?” You sat up, captivated by his words, tears welling up and blurring your vision. His eyes met yours, one hand tracing your spine, while the other held yours.

“So no. I’m not interested in changing back. I am Bruce Banner, I am the Hulk, and I love you.”

[the-friendliest-freak]

I love your Poppy Playtime art! I was wondering now that chapter 2 is out, is there anything you changed about your headcannons/AU?

Design-wise, I wanna update them a little bit - since Stella’s now been working at the company for a few years I might make her look older, might do the same with Avery, too.

Might add some more muscle to Rich (was somewhat tempted to make him shorter but then he’d get way more Wolverine comparisons then he already does). Might make the shadow cast by his hat darker (I have…an embarrassing amount of Rich art at the moment that I haven’t posted, let me know if anyone wants to see that).

Speaking of headcanons, I was actually surprised by how on-the-mark I was with “When Rich gets incredibly pissed it appears as joviality before slowly turning into outrage”. That…I was not expecting.

In terms of personality interpretations:

Rich has practically been confirmed to be a massive dork with the messages you find in the Rejected Toys Area (I got these from a compilation vid)

Also Avery’s surname might be Fri, either that or “Fri” is short for “Friday”, so the note is actually saying “Lunch with Avery on Friday”. Fun fact: Fri is a German surname, and my head canon surname for Avery was Walkenhorst - a German surname.

Stella…I’m unsure about. I thought she was going to be the one to become Poppy but now I’m not too sure. Future design changes might reflect this, maybe I’ll make her look less like Poppy. I don’t trust her after reading what she did, though my headcanon that her longing for reliving her childhood came from her having to “grow up too quickly” during WW2 still stands until new information is revealed.

Patty Hall is Rich’s workplace crush. She gave him her number.

Marie Payne was a worker for Playtime Co who joined the company because she liked the idea of being a “mother” to countless children by making them toys

Ages: Avery is 24, Stella (by the time of her chapter 2 tape) is 35, Rich is 32 but everyone thinks he’s in his 50s (stress does things to a man so he does look like he’s in his 50s)

Avery and Rich go out to lunch every now and then, once every two weeks or so.

I like to think that Rich either becomes Huggy or 1006 - Huggy because I’m more used to that theory, and 1006 because the idea of this guy that everyone considered worthless becoming the one to kill them all and eventually take full control of the factory…it’s a good concept.

The regular-sized toys are usually those made from children, while the larger ones like Huggy or MML are made from adults

Elliot Ludwig lost his daughter, and after that he and his wife divorced. His daughter became Poppy.

The weird calorie intake mentioned in this poster consists of the same “portions” that were fed to Experiment 814:

Still not sure how I interpret the human-to-toy transformation but here’s a hunch: the human is fed portions of the mysterious food, the human is killed and subsequently submerged in the poppy gel - and a toy is submerged with them, the human and the toy become one (for those who know TMNT 2012, think of how the mutagen worked from that show)

One headcanon that I want to change: Rich can spell and read and doesn’t struggle with grammar unless he’s stressed. He’s actually incredibly eloquent…when he’s not frazzled.

You know the “he asked for no pickles” meme? Rich and Avery. Avery’s got social anxiety.

Kathy/The Player was a scientist. I’m still inconclusive about wether they feel guilt about what they’ve done, and if they reacted at all upon MML’s death.

Kathy/The Player is an action figure. It takes them a bit of work to pass off as human, but they’re lucky to be more human-shaped than the other employees.

Rich’s autistic there I said it. He’s undiagnosed. The chapter 2 tape is him having a meltdown

There are probably more but I’ll likely make a much bigger post later on with the new characters added like Marcus and Marie.

Thank you for the question! I love questions like this!

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Request: Falling (Alec Volturi x Reader)

WARNING: Gore! Death!

The day had started off so well, peaceful. More peaceful than it had been the past couple of days prior. Yet things went down hill as night fell and seemed to only get worse. Eventually you were told what was happening. The Volturi was under attack. 

Aro didn't have to touch Alec to know his thoughts as his gaze fixated on you. He couldn't leave you unprotected but couldn't neglect the leaders. Ultimately, you were sent to be with the wives who were at the very top of the tower, guards standing guard at the entrance. 

"Everything will be fine." Athenodora told you as she gripped your arms tightly. "Our husbands will be with us soon. You don't need to fear." Sulpicia added. You nodded but were unable to hold back tears. Athenodora pulled you into her arms, holding you close. Her motherly instinct coming through in your moment of need. Truth be told, the Volturi were ever so slightly more attached to you than regular humans. Not just because you were Alec's mate but also because you were very unlike them. You were completely innocent and it often made vampires wonder just what Alec saw in you considering the two of you were so different. Now if anyone were to question it, Alec would lose his temper considering it an attack on you. It also meant you were very sheltered by the Volturi. You didn't know the details of Alec's past. Only the necessary parts and you knew next to nothing of what he had done over the centuries. Alec wanted it that way, considering it to hurt you more than anything. It wouldn't have been to your benefit. 

Before you could be reassured any further, there was loud thuds, one after the other. Athenodora gestured for you to go to the other side of the room. Whatever caught their eye made both Sulpicia and Athenodora hiss and growl. As they moved to maintain their distance, a man, also a vampire, made his way into the room. He had platinum blonde hair and striking red eyes. "Good evening ladies." He smirked, his accent very prominent. He cast a glance to you. "Good evening to you too, little human." You stayed quiet, nervous and something about the man told you that you had every reason to be-even if you don't know those reasons. "I assume you may not know me. I doubt they'd tell you and judging by your face I would be correct." He grinned at you, the grin sinister. "My name is Vladimir and I have some business to attend to with this coven." You trembled in fear as you looked between who you now knew to be Vladimir, Athenodora and Sulpicia. "Shaking like a leaf." Vladimir said to himself, his eyes running up and down your figure. "I wonder if you'd do the same if you knew what those witch twins have done in their wretched existence." "It's alright, sweetheart." Athenodora called out from behind him. "You'll be alright." "Don't say that." Vladimir said softly, over his shoulder. "It's a lie." "They aren't involved in this. Don't hurt them when they are innocent." Sulpicia responded. Vladimir scoffed. "Since when did the Volturi ever care for innocents?" Vladimir said coldly before turning his attention to you once more. "They're involved now. Alec is the one infatuated with you, isn't it? Or was it Jane? I'm quite certain it was Alec." Vladimir was in front of you in moments. You stifled a scream, biting your lips and breathing quickly. Vladimir tilted his head with sympathy, whether it was real sympathy or not, you couldn't be sure. "Poor thing, you'll have a heart attack if you don't calm yourself little one." Vladimir took your face in his hands and you froze. "Come now, deep breaths. I want you aware for what comes next." You did as he asked, simply out of fear of what would happen if you did not. "That's it." He said with a malicious smile. "I must inform you that Alec isn't coming for you. You see, the higher ranked guards have their leaders as priority and their leaders...are only really concerned for their remaining mates. They're going to discover that I've incapacitated their guards protecting their wives." You immediately thought to Afton, Chelsea, Corin and then Renata. Although she must have been with Aro. Vladimir continued. "I have no doubt they'll come in time for them. I can't say the same for you, little one."

A tear ran down your face and Vladimir brushed it away with his thumb. "Are you going to kill me?" You asked quietly between breaths. Vladimir nodded with a hum. You immediately broke out into sobs, terrified of the man who had your head in his hands. Vladimir hushed you softly. "I know, it's not fair. However, if you knew... you'd understand." He walked you back towards the balcony door. "I'm not going to bite you. I'm not going to break your neck. I'm not going to do anything like that. That's too easy and I don't particularly want you to suffer. I want that wretched witch twin to suffer. Although I'm not going to guarantee you a painless death." "Vladimir..." Athenodora called, trying to take his attention from you, a small but desperate attempt to save your life. "I know, even I am struggling to go through with this. That terrified face, a little human who doesn't understand what's happening around them. Even I can feel sympathy." Vladimir said to the wives as he stared into your eyes. "Then don't." Sulpicia said flatly. "You've made your point." "No, I haven't." Vladimir responded. "You took everything from me. I will make you all suffer and those witch twins will know the feeling of what it's like to lose someone you love. When every last one of you are in pieces. Only then, will I have made my point." His face softened once more. "However, I will extend my apologies to you. You seem to be a lovely person but the company you keep...not so much. So you pay the price. That is the way of the world." 

Before you could even register what was happening, Vladimir forcefully walked you back before pushing you hard. Your eyes widened, mouth opening with a silent scream as you felt your body topple over the banister. Vladimir turned back to the wives with a smirk. "Do you really think me such a fool that I wouldn't notice Jane slowly getting closer?" 

Vladimir was thoroughly enjoying the current predicament. He had both you and the wives in the same room and at his mercy. He would enjoy it for as long as he could. Therefore Jane had to be particularly careful. She couldn't rush there, not when you were there. There was a better chance at keeping all three of you alive if she moved slowly, let him talk as she sneaked closer. However she knew she had to get there before any were hurt. Jane heard your pounding heart and then your sobs when Vladimir made his intentions known. She made it to her room and stilled. This would be the one place she had a good chance at hiding as it was filled with her scent. 

From this point onwards, she had to be quick. However she couldn't being herself to move. She looked up towards the ceiling, listening for the tower. Vladimir had moved, as you had and realisation struck. She wouldn't make it in time, not for you. The wives yes, but not you. She couldn't let the panic set in even though she knew it was over. The next thing she knew, you were falling. 

Everything went quiet for you, only the wind whistling in your ears as you floated. Maybe if you thought you were floating, it wouldn't be so frightening. Although the thought didn't help because you weren't floating. You were falling. You couldn't even scream, clawing the air as though that would have stopped you. If you didn't move, you'd land head first and if you had to land, then you didn't want it to be on your head. 

For Jane, time slowed down as soon as she saw you passing her window. The two of you locked eyes for a moment. Her shocked eyes meeting your terrified ones. There was so much she wanted to tell you in that moment and even more so, she wanted to grab you but couldn't believe her eyes. You were falling too quick and she wouldn't reach you in time. 

Time seemed to gain speed once more once you passed the window. All the while Jane rushed to the window, falling to her knees letting out a scream of horror. Her twins mate was falling to their death and she couldn't do anything about it. You had moved, you'd land on your back but suddenly that didn't matter anymore. You knew you wouldn't survive this. You looked up at the sky- trying to ignore how the castle's tower grew taller and taller by the second. 

Glass shattering was the next sound to be heard beyond Jane's scream. Demetri and Felix were running towards Jane whilst Alec headed towards the shattering glass. Demetri and Felix rushed into Jane’s room, four stories up the tower. Jane was supposed to be guarding the entrance to the tower and to hear her scream was beyond concerning as well as frightening. The two men found her on her knees, staring at the window. "What-" Demetri couldn't finish his sentence because multiple stories down, Alec's own scream could be heard. "Alec!" Jane screamed as she clutched the floor boards, almost as though in pain. In agony for her twin. 

Alec could smell the blood, but didn't think it could be yours. However when he found your body sprawled out across the ground surrounded in glass and covered with cuts and blood. There was more than that though, a small steady pool of blood had began to grow from underneath you. The smell of blood suddenly for overwhelming, along with the shock. He slapped a hand over his mouth and nose, throwing himself against the stone wall behind him. Before he could hold back, Alec let out a gut wrenching, agonized scream. 

The receptionist, Carmella, rushed in hearing the commotion. Perhaps it was a foolish thing to do, if anything survival instinct should have told her to run the opposite direction of the screams but they sounds so pained and panicked, with so many other emotions there was surely a list. She gasped, a cry of horror escaping her when she opened the door to see you across the room, sprawled out on the ground, surrounded by glass. A hole in the glass roof where you had fallen through. Carmella turned hearing more cries and screams in the corner. Alec had nearly indented the wall with his attempt to push himself back. His hands covering his nose and mouth but his screaming was so loud that it did nothing to really muffle the screams. Carmella was quick to take off her heels rushing towards you. "Help them!" Alec began to scream. "(Y/N)!" Alec continued to scream and cry as Carmella moved as much glass as she could to allow her room. "They're not breathing!" Alec cried out in hysteria. Carmella was quick to press a finger to her lips, doing her best to calm him despite the scene having her tremble too. "Alec, shh! You need to be quiet, these men are still here!" "Save my (Y/N)!" Alec yelled back. "Alec, you need to stop screaming! I will try to help them but you'll bring them here. Don't scream!" Carmella pleaded.  Alec curled into himself, still in hysterics, but not screaming as much. Mostly talking to himself, begging you not to leave him, inconsolable for his (Y/N). Carmella looked at your lidded eyes, swallowing hard. You were younger than her and to see you lifeless hit her very hard. She put her hands on your chest, pressing down repeatedly. After sometime, stopping to pinch your nose and breathing twice into your mouth. You didn't respond and she repeated the process. "(Y/N), please!" Alec begged. "You can't leave me! Please! Wake up!" Alec took a deep unnecessary breath. "Breathe!" He screamed. 

Athenodora looked at Vladimir with disgust but was unable to hide her own grief. "Breathe!" They heard Alec scream. "Now he knows what that feels like." Vladimir said flatly. "Now he knows what that loss feels like." Vladimir smirked slightly. "Maybe he has it worse. Our kind are still alive when ripped to pieces, it's the fire that kills us. Humans are such fragile beings." Athenodora glowered at him. "You chose the easier target, that is all." "No I chose the one you least expected." Vladimir retorted. "You're all so busy protecting yourselves. You would know, you're kept in a tower. That all of you forgot the easier target. I know how much that human means to many of you. Him, no less." Vladimir nodded behind him, talking about Alec. "Aren't they they child you never had?" Vladimir asked, tilting his head. Athenodora glared at him. "You don't know what you're talking about." "I'll admit, they almost had me. That face, filled with fear. They're innocent, I'll give them that much but this world punishes you for the company you keep." Vladimir sighed. "I'll admit expect you two will put up more fight, won't you?" Athenodora and Sulpicia stared him down, they wouldn't show him any fear. They wouldn't give him the luxury. Instead, they looked at him in anger. 

"Come back to me!" Alec cried out as Carmella bit her lip, beginning to lose hope. "Breathe!" Alec pleaded. "Please, breathe!" Carmella froze, she could have sworn you moved. "Alec?" Carmella said quickly, feeling for a pulse. However, Alec was too distraught to hear anything. "Alec!" Carmella yelled. It was enough to gain his attention. "Are they breathing? Are the alive!?" Carmella continued to dig around your neck for a pulse when Alec gasped. At the same time Carmella felt it. A faint pulse, but there. "They're... they're alive." Alec said quietly, eyes wide with disbelief. In that time Demetri rushed in. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the scene. "Is there a heart beat!?" It was Carmella's turn to feel hysteria as it slowly built up. "It's...it's still there." Alec said quietly. If he could have cried he would have. The relief, silencing him.  "It won't last long." Demetri ground out before looking to Alec. Alec looked back at Demetri, understanding what Demetri had to do. Alec nodded.  Demetri moved Carmella out of the way. "Carmella, leave. Get out of here." Demetri ordered and she did.  Demetri moved your head to the side, biting your neck, moving your head to the other side before biting your neck again. He took both of your wrists, biting each. "I can't do anymore. I won't be able to stop." Alec nodded. "Four should be enough." 

Carmella broke out into a run before being face to face with Stefan. She screamed before Stefan roughly grabbed her by the neck. "You are interfering." Stefan snarled before biting into Carmella's neck and pulling back, taking any flesh latched against his teeth with him. Carmella immediately began to choke, as Stefan dropped her to the ground. Alec and Demetri heard the commotion. With a newfound calm Alec turned to Demetri with a dark look in his eyes. "Get them out of here." Demetri understood. Alec couldn't take you away from here, the smell of your blood being too much. Demetri's gaze flickered to the door. It seemed Alec had other ideas. Demetri nodded, scooping you up. 

Alec marched down the hall, seeing red, everywhere he went. Before him was Carmella, choking on her own blood. He bent down. "Thank you." Alec said without emotion. "I am grateful for all you have done to save my (Y/N). I'll make this easier for you." Alec took Carmella's head in his hands as she continued to choke, but maintained eye contact with him. He twisted quickly with ease as and loud snap erupted.  With ease, Alec stood up once more, hunting down every last one who was responsible for your possible demise. Alec wasn't stupid, you were still in danger, you had to survive the change and whilst that was still to be known, the hurt and rage he felt continued to build. 

"Jane, have you fed?" She heard Demetri demand as he marched down the hall. "Yes." She opened the door, meeting Demetri with your limp body. She let out a choked gasp. "Are they...?" "I had to. They had already died once." Demetri said quickly and Jane swallowed, remembering your eyes locking with hers as you fell. "Will you stay with them?" Demetri asked as he put you on the bed. "Yes. You go. Make them suffer for this." Jane said firmly. "I won't lie to you, Jane." Demetri said, turning to meet her gaze. "If Alec gets to them first, there won't be much left." 

Aro, Caius, Marcus, Renata, Santiago and other guards burst through the tower doors. Immediately, Caius and Aro grabbed their wives, pulling them behind them. Vladimir simply grinned, raising a finger. "Can you hear it? The agony of losing a mate?" They all could, Alec's screams, Jane's agony for her twin. Vladimir turned to Marcus specifically. "You and I know that pain better than anybody." Marcus glowered at him. He could tolerate being the cause of misery for many, he had taken many mates from others but seeing his mates killer before him, grinning at the loss of Alec's mate was something that filled him with rage. Yet he did not move. Vladimir was alone and with them and if the Volturi had anything to say about it, he wouldn't be leaving alive. "I have a whole castle to my disposal so, stick together is my advice." Within seconds Vladimir jumped over the same balcony you had, in the other side from which you fell and landed on the roof. Then he was gone. 

"Santiago, help Afton, Chelsea and Corin." Aro said lowly. "Dear ones, we best find a safe place...for now." The group had moved to Jane's room, where Demetri was just about to take his leave. This was the safest place they could be, Jane being one of their greatest weapons. Athenodora smoothed back your hair, kneeling at your bedside. "You're going to be alright sweetheart." She said quietly. Her eyes ran over your broken, bruised and bloodied body as the group were updated on what happened to you after the fall. Demetri explained he was the one to change you, biting four times but it was the self control he had left. Aro wasn't entirely certain it would be enough considering the amount of damage you had taken. Nearly all of your bones were broken and the venom needed to travel throughout your body before your heart gave up for a second time. "Let me." Jane said suddenly, from the other side of you from Athenodora. "Let me match the number of Demetri's bites." "Jane, your self control isn't as refined as Demetri's, even if you have just fed. Can you be certain you could stop four times?" Marcus responded. Jane hesitated. "I have to try. I can't let them...they can't die." She whispered. "Do as much as you can." Athenodora said firmly, reaching for Jane's hand. "I'll take over if I need to." "Athen-" Caius spoke up but she cut him off. "Caius, if you don't support my decision then do so but keep it to yourself. (Y/N) will be one of us and I refuse to lose another person I loved to the Romanians, to anyone." The group knew immediately she was talking about Didyme. Athenodora had struggled greatly when Didyme died. She had lost a sister and it nearly broke her. When the twins introduced you to her, she loved you immediately. Something about you drew you in and made her feel protective of you. Whenever Caius gave you a hard time, as he did everyone, Athenodora would shut him down on it immediately. She was the only person who could. However Caius, knew you were different to Athenodora, you weren't her sister. Athenodora couldn't help but look at you as though you were her child. Filling the motherly role you had since lost when being brought into the vampire world by Alec. It came so naturally that it even rubbed off on Caius ever so slightly. He was harder on you not just because you were human but because he cared. Almost taking the fatherly role but refusing it with every fibre of his being. Yet no matter how much he tried, his intentions were always in your best interest. No matter how hard on you he was. 

Caius sighed, moving to his wife's side on the floor before looking to Jane. "If it's too much, you stop. We'll take over." Jane nodded, looking at you one last time before leaning towards your shoulder. Jane managed two bites, cursing herself for her poor self control. Whilst Aro reminded her that it takes more self control to change someone in such a condition, if anything it showed how much self control she could find within herself. As Aro reassured Jane, Caius and Athenodora nodded to one another before she bit down.  Athenodora hadn't changed anyone before despite being one of the oldest vampires in existence. She reeled back trying to focus on you rather than your blood in her mouth, mixed with venom. Caius gripped her hand, silently questioning her. She squeezed his hand. She just needed to do it one more time. He nodded to her, silently promising he would help her. They managed to match the number of Demetri's bites, four turning to eight on various places of your body. It was rare to have more than one vampires venom. Although it meant that if anyone had attachments to the Volturi, it was you. You had Athenodora's vemon, attaching you to her, as well as Caius by extension. Demetri's venom and Jane's venom. Whilst it wasn't Alec's venom, Jane was his biological twin. It was the next best thing. You were their responsibility. 

Usually someone would be thrashing in agony. They couldn't help but wonder why you were still but your heart pounding almost out of your chest, stronger than ever. Aro and Marcus came to the realisation before anyone else.  Almost all of your bones were broken, you wouldn't have been able to move. Alec turned to be met with Demetri and Felix. Their eyes turning black by the second but nothing close to Alec's completely pitch black ones. "Need a hand?" Felix smirked, eager for the hunt and fight almost immediately. "As we speak, Afton and Santiago are making their way towards us. Renata, Corin and Chelsea are with the masters. (Y/N) is in good hands." Before Alec could respond Afton and Santiago had arrived. "They're going to suffer." Alec said through a clenched jaw. "Damn right." Felix grinned and Alec appreciated how quickly Felix had agreed. Alec turned to Demetri. "You know where they are?" It was Demetri's turn to smile as he nodded. "Then let's go get them." Afton spoke up. "Make them hurt." "You're not usually the type to encourage violence." Felix smirked at Afton. Afton looked at Felix. "Vladimir took Chelsea's head off before me. He's given me just as much of a reason as he has Alec. As far as I see it, doing that to (Y/N) was more than enough for brutality. I'm more than happy to assist for my Chelsea." Felix clapped Afton on the shoulder. "Good man. We'll show 'em not to mess with our mates." 

"We need to move their head." Marcus noted softly, looking at you. It was clear your neck was healing judging by the bones beginning to knit together once more, less jutting out and threatening to break the skin. Marcus delicately moved your head that had moved to the side and held it straight. With a pop, the venom swarmed the remaining broken areas. It's success was heard when a broken pained exhale passed through your nose. Marcus carefully let go, allowing your now completely healed neck to rest.  “It's their spinal cord, just under their skull." Marcus answered Athenodora's silent questioning as to what the popping had been. "What about the back of their head?" Sulpicia asked. "They're laying on it and..." She trailed off. Judging by the look on Athenodora's face, she struggled to finish the sentence. That your head was caved in and bloody from the back. "It'll be fine, my dear." Aro reassured his mate. "The venom will fix it. It may just take a little longer." "I want to make them hurt." Jane ground out, gaining the attention of the rest of the group. She glared at the wall, jaw clenched tightly. "You must stay with us, dear one." Aro responded. "Your brother has this handled. You know him. Those two will have hell to pay." Marcus added. "The look in (Y/N)'s eyes as they fell. They were terrified. They looked at me and I couldn't do anything to stop it." Jane continued somewhat weakly. Athenodora rose from her chair to Jane's side and pulled her in. Athenodora kissed the side of Jane's head delicately. "You did everything we could have ever expected you to. (Y/N) knows that. There was nothing you could have done. Don't torment yourself so." Jane stared at you from her own seat as Athenodora cradled Jane as best she could standing up.  "After all these years, the Romanians still don't understand one simple thing." Caius said. "What's that?" Jane asked. "That they might win some battles but the Volturi always win the war." Caius said with ease. 

Stefan was fast but Afton was faster. Afton had him by the neck, turning visible once more. "You've made quite a mistake coming here." Santiago said from behind Stefan. "Ready to pay the price?" Felix asked, grinning widely. "You did it to yourselves." Stefan responded before swiping at Afton. "What was it Vladimir said up at the tower again?" Felix asked. "Anyone recall?" "I believe the words were 'you seem to be a lovely person but the company you keep- not so much. So you must pay the price.' " Santiago responded. " 'That is the way of the world.' " Demetri added. "So you'll understand what comes next, won't you?" Felix grinned. The group lunged at Stefan. 

Sulpicia was the first to make comment on the brutality they could hear. Tearing, ripping, snarls, growls and groans as well as many thuds of footsteps and likely bodies hitting the ground. "Such brutality..." She said as though considering the sounds to be impolite. As though higher than what was happening. "Good." Athenodora said darkly. "I hope they do more." 

Stefan was covered in cracks, his limbs jutting out in odd angles, some nearly torn from him completely. Alec kneeled down, his knee going on Stefan's chest who groaned as he felt the cracks along his chest get pushed in further, threatening to tear more. "I'm going to make you both hurt. Just as (Y/N) did. I will break every bone and just when you think I'm done. You'll realise it's only the beginning." 

After staring at you for some time, Athenodora rose from her seat once more. Immediately going to Jane's bathroom with a random bowl shaped decoration, she turned on the tap, filling it with warm water. "What are you doing, my love?" Caius called out to her. She re-emerged with the bowl and a towel. "Getting some of the blood out of their hair. When they wake up, the last thing we need is to either scare them or having them try feed from their own blood." Athenodora said firmly. "Jane, might I use your comb?" Jane nodded immediately grabbing it and moving towards Athenodora. Sulpicia sighed with reluctance. "Very well, I'll get the other side." She went into the bathroom and returned with another towel. "Are you dividing each section and working through?" Sulpicia asked. "Yes." Athenodora said quietly, already focused on the section she had. She was delicate with her tactic. She started at the bottom of your hair and worked her way up to the roots, wetting the comb every so often as red smeared the crisp white towel. Caius couldn't help but be in awe of his wife as always. He was certain no one had even considered taking the blood out of your hair the whole time yet she was the first. "We're going to have to clean them properly when we can move them." Sulpicia said. "One thing at a time." Athenodora said quietly, swallowing hard. "Right now we just need to get the blood out." 

Alec gripped Stefan's head by his hair bringing it to eye-level. "I'm not done with you yet, you're coming with us." Afton looked at the scattered limbs across the room that were covered in cracks, including Stefan's face. "What do you want to do with these?" He asked. Alec cast a glance to the limbs too. "Leave them. They aren't going anywhere." The guards moved down the hall once more Alec having Stefan's head on proud display. "We're close." Demetri said quietly. Alec gripped Stefan's head tightly. He felt the rage build up in him and everyone knew exactly what was coming next. 

The guards were in an intense stare down with Vladimir. "You understand now, don't you? The pain you caused." "I took people from you." Alec said stoically. "I understand that." Alec lifted the head to Vladimir's line of sight. "I took another from you." Vladimir hissed, angered by the sight. "Or at least I will." Alec said before he tossed the head towards Vladimir. His eyes narrowed on Vladimir, his jaw tight. "You took my human from me." Alec began. "Maybe they'll survive this and be fine after this night but no matter how this ends- I'll never see my little human again." Alec's jaw twisted. "You hurt my mate and I will rip you limb from limb and make you suffer for it. You think I was bad back then? Well, you're about to face your worst nightmare. That was nothing! Nothing compared to what I will do now!" Alec began to hysterically scream, the other guards just barely catching up to him when he lunged at Vladimir. 

Demetri was the first to enter Jane’s room. "It's over." He said, confirming everyone's speculations. Everything had gone quiet after a long time of hearing Alec's constant screams. When it finally stopped, they couldn't help but think the Romanians were no more. The others followed through. Alec's eyes were pitch black and immediately moved to you on the bed. "For a second I thought Alec was going to put the Romanians back together with the other's limbs as well as a mix of their own. Neither of them went peacefully." Felix said. "They burn as we speak." Demetri said. Afton was next to move heading towards Chelsea, his hands cradling her face and inspecting her. 

Even after the rest left, Jane, Alec, Demetri and Felix remained with you. "What if they aren't...what if they won't...?" Alec trailed off unable to say the words. "Who knows if they hear us but...we have to think they'll survive. They will. They have to." Jane responded. After a moment of silence, Jane looked to her brother. "Talk to them. It'll help the two of you."  "Despite my appearance, I'm old (Y/N). So very old. You asked me how old I was when I was changed and I couldn't answer you. That's always been the one question my sister and I could never answer. We had forgotten any kind of clue to help us figure it out. Although it doesn't matter. I've been on this earth so very long. So if you could please just, save me a broken heart and survive this." Alec pressed your cold hand into his cheek tightly but still reminding himself to be gentle. "You're young. You- you need to survive this. I have seen some wicked things, oh, but sweet-face the beautiful things I have seen over so many years. I want to you to see it. Even more so I want you more selfishly for myself. I can't imagine continuing this existence without you. You have given me the most wonderful time I have ever had. I want more." Alec let out a short pained laugh. "I know you said you weren't fond of becoming a vampire but there are less extreme ways to go about it." Alec pressed a kiss to your hand, squeezing his eyes shut. "I know you're not that opposed though." He said quietly. "You promised me remember? You promised me I could keep you."  “They’ll make it, Alec.” Demetri assured him. “This is (Y/N). They’re one of the strongest humans we know.” Alec’s eyes drifted to Demetri. “They died already. I felt it, the pain of losing them and I can’t help but think it’s only the beginning.”  “It isn’t, we got them back.”  “Now they’re fighting for their life once again.” Felix cracked a smile. "That's love for you." He said simply, catching Alec, Demetri and Jane’s attention. “What?” Alec said in confusion.  "Funny thing I've noticed about humans, if they love you, they'll always come back to you." Felix smiled before meeting Alec’s eyes. “Believe me, (Y/N) will pull through.” Felix raised his index finger. “You can hear it.” They could. They could hear your heart pounding fast as the venom coursed through your body. “You’re right, (Y/N) died after that fall. However, we got them back and right now i am willing to bet that human is fighting with everything they have to wake up and come back to us.” 

The twins lowered you into the tub, in a sitting position but your back propped against the end of the bath. Allowing clear access for Alec to see the back of your head. He immediately faltered. "I can do this alone if you like?" Jane offered. Seeing her brothers black eyes with his face contorted as though pained by the sight and he was. Seeing your now healed head and remembering how it was previously as well as the large amount of blood dried into the back of your head was painful. Alec shook his head. "No, I'll help. It's healed. It's only the aftermath." Alec responded, mostly reminding himself. He grabbed the shampoo, pouring a large amount into his hand. Carefully, he rubbed it into your head. He'd never done this before but he couldn't consider this a positive first time given your condition. The white liquid began to foam and then redden by the second. Alec continued to work his fingers through your hair and scalp. As Alec dealt with your head, Jane got a damp cloth running it over the bite marks on your neck. She paused hearing her brother swallow down a moan of pain. She looked towards him. "There's still some glass...in their head." He managed out weakly. Jane said nothing at first, the venom should have pushed the glass out as it passed through healing any breaks in the skin. Although those remaining must have been dug in deep. "I don't want to hurt them." Alec said. "Brother, they're already in pain." Jane said weakly seeing how this tortured her brother. "The wounds will close immediately after." She reassured him as she stood up, digging for tweezers. She had never used them, never had the need for them yet she was glad she had them in that moment. Neither twin fond of the thought of digging into your head with their fingers. "Let me." She said quietly as Alec moved to give his sister some room. Her movements were delicate and quick four tiny pieces of glass removed quickly and effectively. However the two stared at the small pieces before looking at one another. Alec inspected your scalp, brushing the hair around. Where the glass had been imbedded. "No blood." He confirmed, his eyes widened slightly. That was a very good sign. Jane nodded with a small smile. "They're already closing up." Jane moved back to the side of the tub and Alec once more focused on your head. "I'll need to take their clothes off." Jane sighed. "We got anywhere we could reach at the time." Alec nodded. "I'll lift their head. Whilst you remove their shirt." If it had been anyone else, a comment would have been made about Alec seeing you topless. However, the twins could be significantly more mature about that than Felix. The one that was most likely to make such a comment. Thankfully, Felix had kept his distance...mostly thanks to Demetri who had him preoccupied. 

"They've begun to lose their colour." Jane said. "I thought so too, sister." Alec replied. The blood washed away from the bites with ease, leaving small prick-like dark holes that would be closing and change colour soon enough. 

Alec carried you back to the bed as Jane fixed the pillows. Gently, Alec lay you down. "There, that's better." Alec said, relieved that no longer had you been covered in dried blood. A gruesome reminder of what had happened to you. "We should go and feed now." Jane said, taking her brothers hand before he could consider refusing. 

A day passed. Alec's eyes widened as your head moved slightly. Your breathing had started to slow, your body forgetting the constant need to breathe. The movement wasn't rigid and forced out of you like movements and moans had been out of the agony. This movement looked more willing and peaceful. A soft exhale passing through your nose. 

When you woke up, it was Demetri and Felix's job to get you fed before Alec could even see you. He understood of course but Alec couldn't help the need to see you again. His gaze snapped towards any footsteps that neared throughout the eight hours you had been awake. Alec felt hopeful when Demetri returned. "Ah, you have returned, dear one." Aro smiled. "I trust (Y/N)'s first feeding was a success?" Demetri nodded. "They aren't driven constantly by the next meal but their control is as much as can be expected." His eyes moved to meet Alec's. "Someone really wants to see you." He smiled slightly, aware of Alec's emotions. "Bring them in." Aro said warmly. "Reunions can be such happy times." Demetri nodded at the permission. 

Felix entered, with you beside him. His eye was on you constantly, as everyone knew was necessary. However you didn't seem remotely bothered. Actually, it was as if you didn't know he was there. Your eyes immediately locking on Alec's. Alec broke formation immediately walking up to you. You looked at him in adoration, with new eyes, now bright red, seeing every little detail of him and seemingly, falling in love all over again. It was strange not hearing a heartbeat, or feeling warmth radiate off of you as Alec had grown accustomed to. He didn't want to startle you in any way, remembering you were still a newborn. You smiled at him brightly. When you reached out for him, he couldn't take it anymore. Against better judgement he quickly pulled you into him, his forehead against yours. His hands cradled your head as you continued to smile at him. Your own hands reaching up to cover his. He couldn't talk, emotions overwhelming him into silence whilst you seemed too focused on him to actually say anything. A few of the Volturi in the room couldn't help but smile at the scene. They knew how much Alec struggled and to see have you back with them, smiling when they thought you wouldn't make it was very much the happy ending Aro had always been so fond of.

[witchlyboo]

Definitely, maybe.

Part five: The one who belongs to someone else.

Introduction. Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

Paring: Latina!reader x Logan Lerman x Tom Holland x Ben Hardy x Timothee Chalamet x Pedro Pascal x Michael B. Jordan

Warnings: Swearing, angst, misspellings, some Spanish, me learning how to write properly, and NY stuff that I've learned from movies that we all agree to pretend are real.

Word count: 6.4 k

a/n: You been asking for smut, I know, I know, I just wanted to introduce you to all the boys first, and we're getting there, just one more ahead. Also, I'm working on a masterlist because we are getting too many parts already.

All body types and skin tones friendly. You can also enjoy it as a no Hispanic reader. Constructive feedback and misspellings correction is always welcome.

Red and blue lights flash the driving mirror.

—No, no, no, por favor que no sea a mi—You beg to the sky looking at the patrol that is asking you to park, or someone else, there's a lot of cars in this part of the city, there's a big chance is the panic who's controlling your senses.—Dios, mi abuela fue a la iglesia cada domingo de su vida y nunca te pidió nada, please let me have some of her divina recompensa.—But that's not how it works, you end up parking with just a few seconds to think what to say. There's a perfect explication of why you are driving a car that is not yours in the middle of the night and smelling like a minibar.

Then this ridiculous thought comes to your mind, you look expensive, you've never seen the daughter of a senator but you must be close to it, it would make you less of a feminist if you just use your attributes? Ugh, you feel sick just to think about it but don't have enough money to pay a fine, and the constant paranoia of being chased all the time as an immigrant will only get stronger.

You pull down your dress a little so your neckline can do its job but you regret it immediately, and you're pretty sure you look more like an expensive prostitute who stole the car of his lover than some influential men's daughter.

—License and registration.—You hear him say when he approaches your window. You don't like this but you have to play the dumb tourist, the pretty foreign girl that is too stupid to be dangerous, with the look you have tonight it shouldn't be hard. But damn you hate cops, any uniformed man that works for the government is your eternal enemy, and you don't know how long you could keep the nice dumb Latina game before spit on his face.

—There's something wrong, officer? ...You?!—Your sexy and fake high voice is ruined when you see the face of the man who stopped you. This night couldn't get worse.

—Wait, what happened with the party?—Evan interrupts you while you finish some notes for work, little remainders for later when you don't have an eleven years old kid running around you, he's not usually this energic and you have to blame yourself for that, you're describing a life of excess and eccentric fun, something you let behind so many years ago that your own son doesn't know even a bit of it.

—Ugh, a nightmare doesn't worth telling.—You remember vaguely most of it but what keeps fresh in your mind is bad enough to don't want to bring it back.

—But if Timothée is my dad I have to know the important things, including the bad stuff.—Sounds perfectly reasonable and that's what makes you groan at him. Sometimes you feel blessed that your kid is better than you in any possible way, and sometimes you want to kill his brain with video games and reality shows like the rest of the parents.

—Ok, cool, but I'll keep all the +18 content for myself, so this part of the story might be blurry for you.—It kinda is for you anyway.

You should’ve known this night was cursed, you had a feeling because a) your earring fell off at the same time Timothée texted you to give you the party address and say he can't pick you up. And b) he won’t pick you up. Your mother would say that’s reason enough to not go, a real gentleman wouldn’t make you go to an unknown place in the middle of the night on your own in a city like this. But you decide to ignore it because you are a modern woman and because it’s worth it. It better be.

The outfit must be something special. You always take your time to choose what to wear, even if just another regular day, and since this isn't the case you thought about it for hours, that made your mind busy enough to not thinking about Tom and the whole love confession. He texted you saying he'll come for you to go to class together on Monday, which is completely impractical because he's way closer than you but is progress and you're going to take it.

You wanted to ask for Sheep's opinion but you thought she might not care, has been a few days since she started acting strange like she's bothered just to see you breathe. You want to blame his boyfriend to take all her time and attention from you but is probably just her new job, she got a small role in a Netflix show, and even when you're so happy for her, that's the event that has changed her into someone completely different. But you give her time, stress can do bad things to people.

The winner is the exact copy you made of the black and white striped dress Cameron Diaz wore in "The Mask" beautiful, classy, and sexy enough without being too scandalous, not that you have any problem with that, but this isn't the occasion, you don't want to feel like you're being too much or too little, just enough, it's supposed to be easy, right? you were born for this. Just adding some big shiny earrings you got on a thrift shop that look like real diamonds and you're ready, not that you own any to compare. Red lipstick, dark eyes, and a messy bun to get that disinterested pitch every look needs.

Getting there wasn't a problem, you were in the rich part of the city, everyone know who, where and what just to brag about it. The excitement is growing with every second, you check your makeup like thirty times in the elevator and send texts to your mom just to let her know where you are, and because you have to share that moment with someone and you are limited of friends these days.

Timothée opens the door with red eyes, drunk, high, or somewhere in between, you know then you were right about the bad feeling. He jumps on you to kiss you and no matter how much you try to explain the delicacy of your lipstick, he does it anyway, leaving a taste of alcohol and shrimps in your mouth. Taking you by the waist he walks you to a group of people you don't know while you're trying harder to fix the red color of your mouth without a mirror.

—Here is the companion I bought, look at her, that's how five grand per hour look like.—They laughed but you were too disoriented to process all the things he said, it was supposed to be a joke? if it is, why isn't he correcting? Instead, his hand goes straight to your ass and presses it to get you closer to him.

—I'm actually an intern in the costume designer department of the new version of "Sense and Sensibility".—You wanted to mention your recent promotion to hairstylist and makeup artist but that might be too pretentious. Anyway, they don't seem to care what you are or not, in fact, they don't even see you, all eyes are on Timothée

—Oh, well, is easy to forget when you're paying them—All laughs again. Who is this person? Who are all these people, actually? You recognize some influencers, a few cast members but there's no sign of the director, other main actors, not even his co-star. You feel like an extra in a movie where someone will be killed in a luxury party, hopefully not you. You take his hand from your body and clear your throat.—I'm just joking my love, she looks stunning, isn't she? I’ll get you a drink.

He leaves and the group of people surrounding you suddenly dissipated like boiling water, you were on your own again and despite some judgmental gazes is like you’re not there, you’re sure you could just take your dress off and throw it to someone’s face and unless Tim says something about it, no one would care. You’re there as his companion, an ornament, and that’s not enough to earn their attention because it’s too obvious you’re the one in turn.

You walk to the only window no one is smoking and check your phone, you know, the thing you do when you pretend you have important issues to attend, but no, you end reading some old messages, pictures, texting your mom of how much fun you’re having at the party, and somehow you check your filed Facebook messages to find Logan’s name. You cover the screen so fast you hurt your nail, his name is enough to make you tremble like a Chihuahua, you haven’t talked to him since that night, you know from his sister he lives in the house he bought for you two and he’s having the happiest life without you. You want to believe that because that means you took the right decision but deep inside… no, you can’t be that person, you want him to be happier than ever.

You find the guts to open the message, and you read as slowly as is humanly possible. “My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health…” Dios, just Logan could start a message like that, your smile is almost too big to fit in your face so you bit your nail to cover it a little. “I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you’ll be happy to know…”

—That’s a fucking long-ass message.—Tim appears behind you and takes your phone from your hand, spilling some of his drink on your dress in the process. Apparently, he's been there long enough to read part of the message.

—Give it back.—You command in the most severe voice you have, your magical moment got ruined and you remember the hole of hell you are.

—"My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health. I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you must know I still use them now and then"—Timothée starts reading the message, and even when no one is close enough to hear it and you don’t really care about this people’s opinion, that’s not for anyone to read, that’s one of the few parts of your life you treasure the most and you’re not ready to get over it.—You little slut, are you cheating on me with a med student?

—Give it to me.—You repeat trying to take the phone from his hand but he’s faster and walks away putting it out of your reach.

—"I meticulously preserve them, I certainly know any piece of art made by you will be priceless in the near future"—You don’t want to hear it coming from his drunk mocking voice, so you try to ignore what he’s saying and put more effort on chasing the phone.—Should I had kept the jeans where you left the wet spot on? I didn’t know you were an artist, my love.

—Timothée, por el amor de Dios.—Now you're trying to climb him, it wouldn't be that hard to take him down, he's skinny and you're fierce. That's what you thought but he's not moving even with you are on top of his shoulder and his opposite long arm keeps the phone away from you.

—Who is this guy and why is he talking to my girl like this?—You see the olive eyes getting darker and the tone of his voice went deeper than you thought he could do. You desist from taking the phone, you know the bullies love the attention, maybe that's exactly what he wants and give it to him just makes it worse.

—I'm not your girl.—You claim fixing up your dress having enough of games, and you have no reason to keep worrying about losing your job, the filming is done, and apparently your relationship with him too. You don't care about any of that anymore, just want to read Logan's text.

Even behind all the alcohol and the eyes injected in blood thanks for who knows what kind of drug, you can see the disappointment and anger, but it's not a broken heart, Is the hissy fit of a child that loses his balloon and now everyone will pay for it, especially you.

—Are you sure about that?—You can see him swallow hard, almost looking vulnerable, but his voice is defiant and threatening to prove you wrong. He just has to stretch out his arm to reach the open window with your phone in hand, his intentions are clear and the only thing you can do is raise your hands as a reflex.—You were mine the moment you put a foot on my trailer, and I don't fucking share my stuff.—Before you can say a word he drops the phone from the fourth floor.

You know is senseless but you find yourself running out of the party and going to search the device, using it also as an excuse to get away from that place. This is the first time someone makes you feel meaningless, you know the famous' world is cold and lacking in empathy but this is ridiculous, they're a bunch of parasites fed by attention and power. By Timothée.

The screen is crashed and the rest of it is probably beyond repair, not that you're surprised, its life is longer than you've been in the country and you admit you should have replaced it much earlier but you're not the kind to throw away things that still work. However, is not the phone you are worried about, not as much as what it contains.

—That was obsolete anyway, I'll get you a better one.—You didn't know he was following you, his voice interrupts your self-wailing. He sounds calmer and a little embarrassed, but not enough to say sorry, you don't think he's capable of saying it.

You shake your head and start to walk away without a word, you don't want anything from him, not materially, at least.

—Don't make a scandal out of it, it's just a phone!—He yells erasing any trace of regret in his voice. He doesn't see the reaction he expected and that's when he runs after you and with a hand on your upper arm pulls you back, you gasped for the sudden bluntness.—That annoying habit you have of leaving when I'm talking to you.

You push him away with all the strength you have, which resulted in him almost falling on the ground.

—I don't care about the stupid phone!—You finally break, but sadly is not as satisfactory as you thought it would be.—You are mean, vain, arrogant and the worst part is that you enjoy being this despicable human because you have absolutely no consequences to it. Everyone around you just accepts it and I feel so sorry for you because the only possible way for you to fill the void inside is to be surrounded by that crowd of mules licking your steps—To your surprise, he has nothing to say, he's just standing there with no facial expression, whatever he feels is easily covered by his years of experience acting, even drunk.—I can't give you that and it's obvious they don't want me either. What am I even doing here?—You ask yourself thinking where would be the best way of getting a cab, is a rich zone, must be easy.

—Everything is better when you're around—His voice is thin and fragile, you have to process what he said three times in your head to understand his words. You're not willing to look at him yet.—You're not like the others.

—Pure bullshit. You love to repeat that misogynist discourse of girls being in a certain way because is easier than be responsible for the people you choose to be—You were hugging yourself the whole time, is a cold night, but not enough to be bothersome, you enjoy Fall weather—You got me for a moment, I give you that, you fooled me but I'm too tired of guessing what version of you is real—When you return your gaze at him, he doesn't try to hide the guilt anymore, but there's still haughtiness in there.—Now, if you don't mind Mr. Chalamet, I need to get a cab.

—No, you came with me, you leave with me.—There's no trace of alcohol in his voice anymore, a good scolding is enough to put you sober, you know that thanks to your mom. Oh god, you're becoming her.

—You didn't bring me here, gigantic head—You look at him and put your hand in front of him with the palm up. He stares at it for several seconds before put his own on it—Not that!—You shake it and start looking inside his jeans pockets until you feel the metal of his key car.—You can't drive and I have to get home. You'll find it in the studio tomorrow.

That's how you ended with a car way more luxurious than you expected, driving so slowly and carefully that the police stopped you. What a night, but at this point, you couldn't care less about anything that is not that message, is been months and you can't get over it, over him. Not even Ben moans, Tom's comforting arms, or fight with a movie star at 3:00 am. is enough to get him out of your mind.

—So is true, you don't wear anything that hasn't appeared in a movie, huh?—Michael B. Jordan is leaning on the car window with a mocking smile and a sparkle of satisfaction that you would love to punch but his uniform keeps you in line, where you come from police is not equal to justice, most of the times is oppression.

—You know where it's from?—That was kind of comforting, no one at the party noticed. Not that you care.

—Is The Mask, not some Adam Hitchcock's blurb.—He smiles and even when you really don't like him, it's nice to be with a familiar face, you are really tired of running away, scaping for problems that are a result of your null capacity to deal with emotions. Ugh, what a word.

—Is Alfred Hitchcock, actually.—You didn't want to sound priggish, but you correct him with no time to stop yourself, an old habit.

—You got me, smarty, you know more than movies than me. Where did you get this car?—You feel really nervous even when you got this legally, you have your documents and license on time and he's being nice enough to not want to run away in a car that you technically borrowed for yourself.

—It's not mine.—No shit, Sherlock.

—No shit, Sherlock, I was asking where did you steal it.—You wanted to laugh but there's something with the uniform that just doesn't allow you to be yourself.—Are you drunk?

—No, no, fuck, no, it's just, I don't feel comfortable with cops—He raises his eyebrows but that is his only reaction.—Listen, is my boss' car, I'm doing the favor to take it to the studio, and I'm really nervous because is fucking expensive, he's an asshole, I haven't drive un almost a year because you people only use cars if you're rich or your work and lives depend on it. I'm starving.—The last part came out of nowhere, you haven't eaten anything in almost 13 hours, maybe that's the actual reason why you are that moody.

He doesn't answer right away, takes his time to look at you, what makes you blush, he's really close, closer than he's ever been. Does he smell like green apples? Not the actual apples, the artificial smell they had given to them.

—Get out of the car.—Oh no, is he arresting you? Is he finally taking revenge for every time you make fun of his Hawaiian-type shirts? You know you have too much karma accumulated and a cop making you pay for it when you don’t believe in their sense of justice is kinda poetic, and evil.

You don’t want to discuss with someone with a taser, gun, pepper spray, or who knows what else. So you take your bag, the key car, and get off defeated.

—My turn is almost over, I’ll take you to eat something, c’mon.—He walks back to his patrol and you stay still for a few seconds still processing his words, you must look totally devastated for him to offer that. How you see it you have two options, go with him and spend an awkward hour with a person you don’t like or risk getting a fine, Tim can pay it, it’s not a big deal but you don’t want to owe him even the minimal thing.

You get in the car holding on to your bag to feel calmer, this is the first time you’re fully alone with him since you found him half-naked in your kitchen. Those defined abs may never leave your brain.

—Are you cold?—He interrupts your thoughts with his question, you didn’t notice you were shaking. He looks for something under his seat and gives you an NYPD hoodie, you hold it doubting your next move, is not like you don’t appreciate the gesture but it’d be easier to take if it doesn’t get that words printed—Is clean.—He says chuckling when he sees the way you’re looking at it.

—Is not that, just, you know, fuck the police, defund the NYPD, demilitarize the pigs and that stuff.—You say putting on the hoodie anyway, is a cold night and you won't help the institution wearing their propaganda.

—Yeah, I get it, but you can't change the system just from within.—You decide is not the right moment to have a political conversation so you shrug your shoulders and discreetly smell the hoodie, a mix of cologne, green apples, and cheap soap, you know is cheap because you buy the exact same, do its job.

—I'm in the mood for pizza.—You say casually, making a deal to yourself to try to be his friend, he is a small part of your life anyway.—Domino's is open at this time of the night?

—Tell me you're not consuming that shit, dear Lord, you been here for how long, two years? I can't believe your idea of a good pizza is Domino's. Stella hasn't taught you anything?—You're surprised by the level of condescension with a pizza and you mirror his smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Your school program includes people from all around the world so you don't have that much experience with actual new yorkers. Logan is rich, so he doesn't really count.

—What's wrong with Domino's? I don't buy much street food, is cheaper to buy things on the food market. Besides, all pizza is good.—The mention of Sheep makes you a little tense, so you don't say anything about it, is not a conversation to have with him.

—Don't blaspheme in the patrol, I just washed it—You laugh, finally, after a terrible weekend. You can see why she likes him, there is something about his voice, smile, and his eyes that feel... calm, like watching Friends after a marathon of Lord of the Rings.—There are rules to survive this city, and I'm surprised you have made it this far without a proper guide.

—Chill out Mr. Miyagi, I'm not from the jungle, and I've learned a lot by myself.—He gives you a lopsided grin as a request, and you put your fingers up ready to enlist your acquired knowledge.—Walk fast, like you're about to be stabbed, something that actually happened to me, with an umbrella—He nods and laughs being related to it.—Number two, no small talk, no one cares, even if they ask. Number three, if you look a stranger in the eye, especially a homeless person, you have essentially invited them to approach you.

—Number four, we never eat from Domino's, Papa John's, Pizza hut, or any other chain restaurant, only trucks and local places are allowed.—You roll your eyes but you get the point, is just, again, you're not much into street food, it doesn't taste like home and the only way to eat food like that is preparing it yourself.

—Fine, fuck capitalism, let's support local places—You make an obvious fake enthusiastic tone but he nods proudly.—Number five, you don't need a car to live here, not even know how to drive. I would have successfully avoided this police brutality if I had followed that rule.

—For someone who is about to eat for free, you whine too much.—He parks the car and gives you a sign to go with him. You see him go to a pizza truck and order, you realize at the moment how ridiculous you look, so before chasing him you let your hair down, take your huge earrings off, and roll up the skirt of your dress until your mid-thighs letting the hoodie cover the rest, and clean the red lipstick with a Kleenex from your bag. Now you look more like a college person and not a rich girl who just got seized.

—Here you go.—He says giving you a slice as big as your head, looks oily and spreading cheese everywhere. Perfect.

—Is it vegan?—You ask receiving the food with an obnoxious face. His kind grind turned into a dread expression and you give him your second laugh of the day.—I'm kidding.

You are about to give it a bite when you see passing next to you a huge rat with the exact same slice as yours in its mouth, running into the dark of the night happy to have obtained the food for its family. They use to scare you when you just moved out but now they're like any other pigeon in the sky.

—Rule... whatever, a rat with a slice of pizza is a symbol for good luck, congratulations.—He pets your head awkwardly, not sure if you're ok with the physical contact, which, surprisingly, you are.

—I see rats with bagels all the time.—Pizza and bagels, that's the main culinary wonders of the city, you like it, not much to object but is hard not to compare it with your home's food.

—Is easy to confuse a rough diamond with a simple rock.—You both eat in silence, enjoying the mixed sounds of the city and all the different smells, the whole situation feels like one of those lofi music videos. You remember thinking about moments like this before getting the scholarship, what would it be like to feel normal in the city of your dreams.

—How do you know that much about movies?—He asks after a few minutes when you take a break to drink something, that pizza is not easy to take.

—When I was a kid a spent much time on my own, so my dad bought me a used DVD reproducer, and at the corner of my neighborhood was this movie store where you could buy 5 pirate movies for one dollar. They were blurred, with a terrible sound, and most of the time with the wrong movie inside but they helped me to not feel lonely. Eventually, the store closed but I've watched everything in it by then—He gives you a warm smile, you never told that story to anyone, not because is too intimate to share, but because no one asked, it doesn't sound like a question with a complex answer.—Anyway, I watched Marie Antoinette when I was like eight, and I decided at that moment that however is done I wanted to be part of that magic.

—You hear all kind of people chasing dreams in this city but is hard to find someone who actually deserves it.—You blush and you cover it with your hair but the smile on your voice is impossible to hide.

—Is that a compliment? You must really want me to like you to date Sheep.—You laugh but you can see his face tense, so you can guess your friend has been busy breaking everyone’s hearts.

—She hasn’t returned my calls in three days so I don’t think there’s much you can do—You nod, all this time you thought he was the reason she is ignoring you but apparently you are both in the same boat.—But yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, what I should have said is, Marie Antoinette at eight? I can see where all the damage started.

You gasp and throw your napkin at his head, he easily catches it without even looking at it and laughs; that was unexpectedly attractive.

—Why a cop?—You ask, not sure where that question came from, maybe you authentically want to know more about him, he just bought you food, and honestly, that's the easiest way to win your trust.

—I wanted to be an actor when I was a child. This is the city of opportunities so you may think that if you want to chase the big wonder, this is the perfect place to do it. But I grow up surrounded by these people giving their entire lives to get something just given to one in a million so I decided is not worth it. For many years I wondered what I wanted to do with my life and the answer was really clear, my dad was a cop, a good one, or that’s what people say. I don’t remember much because he died when I was seven—Conversations about death are not your strength, everything can turn out uncomfortable if you choose the wrong words.—It might not be that glamorous but if my father died for it, it surely worth it.

—For the good ones.—You raise your almost empty can of Coke and he does the same with a grin that warms the cold weather of the night.

—For the good ones.

The next two hours passed like minutes talking about anything and everything. It just felt right to talk freely with him, you didn’t feel judged for your awkward family moments or your random thoughts, not even once because he told you his too. At some point of the night he borrowed you his gym sweatpants, any of you could just suggest going home but that was off the table, end that peace just for weather reasons would have been a tragedy.

—I read Timothée Chalamet is a dick. Is that true?—The mention of his name remains you of your life and everything that comes with it, including the middle semester project that you must dedicate your entire day, one that is about to start.—What, you can’t talk about it?

—He is a complete dick with no sense of privacy or human decency—And when he interrupts a deep kiss to look at your eyes, smile, and caress your chin, you feel like a character of his Victorian movies. But he didn’t ask that.—But the next week he’ll be no longer my problem.

—That’s why we have rule twenty-three, don’t ask for a picture of a celebrity unless they are local—You have heard about it before but you haven’t got the opportunity to decide if you like that rule because the only celebrities you have seen are from work and that club’s party opening.—That means you’ll be free to go to the Stephen Kings’ movie projection there will be for Halloween.

You don’t know if that was a proposition, a suggestion, or just a simple recommendation, and whatever it is, you noticed he was nervous to ask. Is it wrong? It feels wrong like you were betraying your friend accepting to hang out with his boyfriend without her consent. But he didn’t ask you to go with him so is safe to answer.

—Yeah, I guess—You get a moment, four seconds top, where you shared innocent, curious, and tenting gazes like three graders in the playground. And that’s the further you will allow yourself to go.—We better leave, if the sunlight touch me I’ll turn into dust.

You get off the car hood and go to the side door, but this time he opens it for you. You give him a “seriously?” Look, receiving a little push in your arm as a response.

↬☀︎︎

A distant voice asks you to wake up, softly whispers that turn into caresses on your cheek, your eyes feel so heavy, even when you are well aware of your environment your eyelids keep closed.

—Good morning, Princess—This is the first time Tom calls you that way, the change from silly nicknames to Princess is enough to get you out of hibernation. He is squatting beside your bed, his smile is the promise of a better day, and chasing that idea you give him one small back.—Your mom has been texting me desperately all day, she said you're not answering her calls and is worried.

—Fuck, my phone broke last night, can I call her from yours?—That’s an oversimplification but in the search for a better story, that's what you decide to believe and tell. Tom nods and gives it to you, he looks happy, beyond that, this is the first time you see that subtle blush on his cheeks and the eyes sparkling. You sit on the bed next to his body looking for your mom's number, slowly he moves between your legs, you have shorts and an oversized Back To The Future t-shirt, you got took the time to prepare yourself to bed last night and keep Michael’s clothes inside your closet to wash them, like The Tell-Tale Heart, a little innocent secret who feels dirty somehow

The conversations with your mom are always long, nostalgic and the tears are hard to hold for both parts; after a long life sharing almost every day with her, her absence never feels smaller. But this time is different, Tom is exploring the bare skin under your knee with his warm hands, asking for permission with curious eyes, and when you don’t object to the touch the British boy keeps his exploring mission cautiously, giving special attention to see your eyes in case something change. Is time to hang up when he gives a long and loving kiss to your knee, the less erotic kiss you could think of but so intimate to bristle your skin.

—Not nice to touch someone's daughter when is talking to her mom.—The protest of your voice loses strength at every word, he heard that and just straight his back to reach your face, the gap is almost extinct.

—We're okay, she likes me.—He assures holding your hips and pulling you a bit to him. Tom looks very comfortable with the new closeness authorization, you like it but are not very sure about it yet, most of you still think of him as your best friend.

—Did she tell you that? Are you talking with my mom behind my back?—You laugh when he does, almost like nothing changed.

—She adores me, I swear, I'm invited to Christmas, you know?—You're not surprised, she invites everyone, Logan was too but the first time he got family plans and didn't make it to the second.

—You should go, maybe we can do...—His lips touch yours in a peak at the middle phrase and makes you forget what you were about to say.—Man, the audacity to interrupt...—Then he kisses you again, deeply, using his tongue to taste your inner lip and his hands holding your shirt in fists. That's a twist of events.

—Is that ok?—You hear a weak whisper coming out of his voice but you got so mesmerized on his lips that decided to ignore it and kiss him back instead. He responds to your touch and starts to lean over you to make you lay on the bed.

Jesucristo bendito, is this happening? like, actually happening? you must look like trash, you barely took all the makeup from the night before and didn't take a shower, you start to get so worried about smells, feelings, and what that'll mean to your already too much-spoiled friendship.

However, the time of doubts is done when Sheep starts yelling in the living room, you both reacted running to the sound and looking for your blonde friend. Michael is there but doesn't look like the same as a few hours ago, is annoyed and tired for the lack of sleep, a look that doesn't match him at all.—What did you do?—You ask him fast assuming she's mad for something he did.

—Just in time, the star of the movie, I was wondering how much it will take you to be the protagonist of this.—That is Sheep's voice talking about you and what must be your heart breaking from her words.

—Excuse me?—You wish your tone would be less savage but you can't help respond the same way she did.

—Logan wasn't enough, then you got the drummer, fucking Timothée Chalamet, Tom and now my boyfriend. I'm so glad I didn't leave you alone with my dad or I'd be calling you mom now.—You have no words to that, Michael doesn't even dare to look at you, he must have told her something she misunderstood, but Sheep, or well, Stella is saying things she actually thinks and keep to herself. Tom walks in front of you whispering things to her to calm her down but she is not looking at him, you didn't tell her anything about Tom either so he's taking responsibility this time.—Go ahead and fuck the whole city, Michael if that please you but you're crossing the line with Tom and you know that, you're going to ruin him as you ruin every man that enters in your life.—She has a very you moment having the last word of the dispute and getting out of the apartment with Michael going after her but not putting much effort in it.

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[pilothusband]

The One Where Frankie Didn’t Need a Map

Gif by @uuuhshiny

Rating: Explicit! 18+!

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: Some good ol’ fashioned cunnilingus, alcohol consumption, a teensy bit of pining. Unbeta’d, we horny post like men.

Word count: ~1.5k

Description: You confess something to Frankie and he is determined to change your mind on the matter.

You already knew you were in trouble when no one else showed up for the hang out session Frankie had posted about in the group chat. Will had a date with his wife, Benny had training, and Pope had some other plans God knows where.

Here you were, perched on Frankie’s couch, downing a PBR like it was water, trying to get over your own nerves. See, you harbored a not-so-secret crush on Frankie. You were glad Frankie was oblivious to it, not really knowing if he felt the same way.

He had never said or done anything to hint that he felt the same way, but sometimes when you were all out, you caught him looking at you from across the room. Your gaze would meet his, and he’d look away quickly. It was confusing and maddening as hell.

He was a good friend; someone you could tell almost anything and not feel judged. You didn’t want to risk losing him.

After a while, conversation flowed as freely as the cheap beer. You felt your tongue get a little looser, and you noticed Frankie was in the same boat.His hair was a little disheveled, rather adorably, and his face was getting a little pink, his smile a little more ever-present.

Still, you weren’t sure how the conversation turned to sex. You hadn’t broached this subject before in detail, much less when it was just the two of you.

You made a comment about how you hadn’t been dicked down in what felt like decades and he let a laugh.

“I think the thing I miss about having a regular sex partner is just going to town while eating her out.”

You squirmed, feeling incredibly hot under the collar all of a sudden.

“I don’t know, I’ve always wanted to enjoy that, but none of the guys I’ve been with could find the clit even if they had a map.”

Frankie almost spit his beer out at that. He didn’t laugh this time though.

He didn’t respond right away. His brow was furrowed in deep thought. You felt a hot wave of embarrassment wash over you.

“I know, it’s kind of embarrassing,” you started. “I think there’s something wrong with me.” 

You tried to laugh it off, but your voice was small and unsure. Your eyes were cast down at your hands, wringing nervously in your lap. Frankie must have thought you were insane, sharing something this personal with him.

“No,” he said, clearing his throat. “It’s not embarrassing. Not for you, at least.” 

You looked up at him, surprised.

“Those guys, they didn’t know what they were doing,” he said, his arms gesturing wildly. “They were fucking idiots.” 

You huffed out a laugh. Of course he would say that.

“I guarantee you, when you’re with someone who knows what they’re doing, you’ll change your tune.” 

“Yeah,” you said derisively. “We’ll see if that happens. You know my dating history.”

Frankie hummed in agreement and took a pull from his beer. You did the same, looking around the room, trying to find a way to change the subject.

“I could do it,” he said quietly. 

You almost didn’t hear him.You paused for a moment, stomach in knots. 

“What do you mean?” You said warily, unsure if he meant what you think he meant.

“I mean—“ he seemed to be unsure if he should say it. “I could make you come with my mouth.”

You almost gasped at his words, immediately feeling a rush between your legs.

“Do you— do you want to?” You asked. 

You couldn’t tell if he was joking, but this wasn’t something Frankie would normally joke about. If this was Pope or Benny you’d punch their shoulder and tell them to fuck off. But this was Frankie. Your Frankie.

He swallowed thickly, his voice dropping an octave. “More than anything.”

You felt your thighs clench together, squirming in your seat. You really fucking wanted to take him up on the offer, but could your heart handle it? Could you hook up with your best friend and not fall more head over heels for him? 

After a long, pregnant pause you spoke, your voice coming out more breathy than usual.

“Okay.”

Frankie’s head snapped up to meet your gaze.

“Really?”

“Yes. Make me... make me come with your mouth.”

Frankie groaned, a low and deliriously sensual sound coming from deep within him. You felt another wave of arousal wash over you. You bit your lip in anticipation, feeling a little nervous.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Frankie said softly, setting his beer down, grabbing your empty and setting it next to his. 

He cradled your face delicately in his hand and kissed your forehead, your nose, then the corner of your mouth. You didn’t dare breathe, afraid this was all a dream you were about to wake up from.

He moved lower, crouching on the floor in front of the couch. His fingers found the button on your jeans and worked deftly to unbutton them. He ran his hands down to your thighs and then under, motioning for you to get up so he could pull your jeans down. You complied, biting your lip as he slowly peeled them down.

Once they were on the floor haphazardly tossed behind him, Frankie looked back and you and licked his lips. His eyes were glazed over, staring at the seam of your panties. 

You sucked in a breath. Your heart felt as if it was beating out of your chest.

His hand found you there, pressing softly over your clit over the fabric. You made a soft noise in surprise. His thumb rubbed circles over it, finding a delicious rhythm. Your hips started gyrating on their own accord.

“Fuck,” Frankie mumbled under his breath in reverence. “You’re beautiful.”

You moaned in response. There was no way you could come up with any words in the moment. His fingers felt like heaven and he had barely touched you.

His pointer finger slipped under the fabric, seeking out your skin directly.

“You’re so wet for me already,” he breathed out in wonder. You keen in response, too turned on to feel self-conscious.

He removed his finger and sucked it into his mouth, groaning.

“And you taste fucking amazing.”

His fingers found the waistband of your panties, peeling them down your legs.

The hairs on his mustache and beard tickled the inside of your thighs and you found yourself spreading them apart further in anticipation.

Your mind was moving a mile a minute, not quite believing this was really happening.

Your breath hitched as his mouth found its way upwards, finally reaching its destination. Frankie parted his lips, licking a stripe upwards, landing on your clit.

“Oh fuck,” you swore under your breath. 

Frankie grinned in response and started moving his mouth in earnest. His tongue swirled around your clit, flicking over it every other beat. Your hips were grinding into his face and your breath was coming out in pants. His fingers parted your folds while his tongue flicked back and forth over you.

Frankie let out a long moan into your pussy, grabbing onto your ass with his free hand to push you further into his face.

A lock of his curls fell in front of his eyes and you found yourself carding your fingers through his hair to push it back. He closed his eyes at the sensation, letting out another moan.

His mouth and tongue struck a new, harsher rhythm, making your back arch. You pulled the neckline of your shirt down, taking the cup of your bra with it to rub at your nipple, seeking more friction.

Frankie looked up and found you arching your back towards him, thumb circling your exposed nipple and let out the loudest moan.

“Fuck, baby. Play with your tits, just like that. So fucking hot.”

He continued his ministrations, his nose adding a delicious press to your clit as his tongue licked into your pussy.

You felt a familiar sensation start to grow inside you, building with alarming speed.

“Frankie, don’t stop,” you panted out. “I’m gonna come.”

He growled into you in response, continuing to lap at you with abandon.

The wave broke and you cried out, babbling his name over and over again. Your legs were shaking with the strength of your orgasm. Frankie rode you through it, not letting up until your hand flew to his hair.

He looked up at you in a daze, wiping his mouth off on his sleeve before crawling his body up yours, capturing you in a scorching kiss.

Your hands were everywhere— in his hair, on the back of his neck, down towards his chest. You looked down, noticing the considerable bulge in his jeans. You wanted to find out how hot and hard he was more than anything.

His hands found yours, stilling your movements.

“Next time,” he said, his already deep voice sounding even huskier. “This was for you.”

You kissed him again, not quite over how impossibly soft his lips were, and how he tasted like you.

“See, I told you,” he said, huffing out a laugh. “Nothing wrong with you.”

You smiled bashfully, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Shut up and hand me my pants, Morales.”

[heartshyuck]

Pairing: Jisung x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst,slow burn, strangers to lovers au, first love, early 1900s au.

Synopsis: Lavenders symbolise purity, silence, devotion, serenity and grace. All endearing characteristics of the gorgeous boy, you met in the fields of purple.

Placed in the late 1930s , just before World War two starts, you flee from your family who are forcing you into a marriage. You lie low in a small village where you meet Jisung in a field of lavenders.

Word count: 23k lmao

Warnings: female reader, misogyny and very backwards ways of thinking, forced marriages, world war two + historical inaccuracy for progression of the plot, drinking

a/n: this is the longest fic i have ever written and honestly it was a mission, it took about a month to write and I am genuinely so proud of it and really happy with it. Please don't be scared by the length but when I say slow burn, I really mean it!

Your legs seem to be moving on their own, feet hitting the ground at a steady and fast pace, you don’t look back and can’t seem to see what lies ahead but still you run until your lungs burn, run until the bitter metallic taste is at the back of your throat where bile threatens to rise. You run until finally your legs collapse, knees hitting the ground, grazing them and it’s the slight sting of the sediment seeping into the cuts that stop you from passing out. You’re not sure how far you’ve ran or how long you’ve been running, you don’t know where you're running to but you have to escape. 

Escape the life they’ve laid out for you, the one they’ve planned without your input, you can’t live a life where everything is set out, where ’everything is expected and perfect. A life where you’d get married at 18 to a stranger who was of a worthy social class, attend formal lunches with the wives of your husband’s work colleagues and host dinner parties and occasionally large balls in a manor that always felt empty no matter how many paintings you bought to hang on the never ending amount of walls, no matter how many more bookshelves you tried to fit into one room, a place that you’ll always hate. Then to have children by 20, as many boys as possible of course to then not have any say in their upbringing and watch nurses tend to them, your husband educate them and then watch them get married, meet your grandchildren and when you’ve reached a respectable age, death will meet you in your sleep and you’ll be mourned and then forgotten. A life filled with regret, a constant numbness, no fulfilment and no meaning.

You saw your mum live that life, a smile that never quite reached her eyes, always plastered on at any given moment as she walked around the large hall with a glass of nothing but champagne in hand greeting the hundreds of guests that you were never able to comprehend how she managed to remember them all. She never spoke unless spoken to, never put in any input and always obeyed your father even when you could see the frustration bubble up inside her as her eyes glinted and her jaws tightened with the urge to say something.

She would buy gifts upon gifts and shower you in expensive luxuries, spoil you in riches as a form of love and yet it always held another meaning behind it. There was a slight sadness in her eyes as she passed a gift every birthday,christmas and any other reason she found, almost as if she was saying sorry for the life you were going to live and how she’d use these moments as blackmail for when that time came. You’d overhear her quiet sobs when you would sneak around the house late at night, read letters she received from someone you didn’t know and how they wished for her life to get better and for her to find happiness in a world where happiness didn’t exist. You saw your mother cry when your father died, eyes bloodshot red in fear rather than grief. Her life was now uncertain and that's when you decided that you couldn't live an empty life, regretting choices and wishing for death to come to you first.

Your father had always made sure that you would receive a proper education, one where you'd read hours upon hours of the finest English literature, works of science and learned of the past and present politics. He always said "a lady should know about the world around her but should never venture off on her own" you hated that phrase but it was better than what you overheard your friend's father saying to her when she asked for him to explain the concept of communism, "a women does not need to busy herself with politics, for your brain could not even begin to comprehend it" he announced with his nose high up in the air as if he had just said the most inquisitive statement known to man. It baffled you how one could even think that, let alone truly believe it enough to announce it so stupidly in the open, it was obvious that women were capable of understanding concepts like politics, maths and science for you were living proof.

You did better than your brother at grasping algebra, better at them with understanding Versalius's "De humani corporis fabrica" and it didn't take your friend long to understand Karl Marx's theory on communism once you explained it to her. It angered you that this was dismissed especially when your brother soon went off to universities for they had outgrown your father's enormous library and knowledge, there was no more he could teach them but there was still much to learn and you yearned to do the same but as you approached a suitable age for marriage, your everyday classes on Shakespearean English, Tudor monarchy, Greek mythology and Italian art had now been replaced with sewing, crochet, dining etiquette and the differences between napkins, white laced ones for formal lunches, gold embroidery for important dinners and regular silk for everyday use, you'd recite to your mother and the many maids who were on standby.

You've left that world now, left the bustling streets of industrialised London where a black smog always hung around the air and the smell of burnt rubber that stung your nose, you always hated both. Though you grew up in a large estate where there seemed to be a never ending amount of land on the outskirts of London, you never were allowed out to explore. Only allowed out with your mother to pick out fabrics in the markets, surrounded by military men that guarded the general's wife and daughter but now you were alone, no guards, no mother and no black smog to block your view of what lies ahead, only the sun and the ocean sky, clear of clouds as you breathe in fresh air that cleanses your lungs from the toxins that hang in the city air, surrounded by vibrant lavenders that arrive with a strong, sweet smell of pollen which you welcome to replace the bitter rubber your sense of smell only seems to know.

You close your eyes and bask in the warmth of late August , the sun gleaming down on you, rays striking against your skin with the wind between the strands of your hair, blowing the lavenders and they slightly tickle your arms. You’re not sure how long you were in your euphoric trance but you weren't ready to leave yet when the dark shadow was casted over you.

Your eyes lazily open and beauty lies ahead, the sun gleaming behind him, lights him on flames and he burns with a presence so strong you can see it as his aura swirls around you, engulfing you. His features,strong and yet his eyes are soft and even as he's turned away from the sun they sparkle infinitely as they hold the brightest stars, his stare pierces through you and it makes your gut clench as you feel small under his gaze but you don't turn away, daring him to continue staring down on you, well that's what you tell yourself as you can't help but get lost in the beauty of his eyes. His face wears a worried expression, his hand out forwards for you to take and place in his and it takes you a while to realise he's trying to help you up, even longer to comprehend the words that leave his mouth, as you just watch his cherry red lips move. You're dazed and for the first time you're not thinking straight, your legs won't move to carry you back up onto your feet but your hand instinctively moves towards him and your own mouth gapes open as it does, and again he repeats himself emphasising the words as his eyes widen further “are you feeling well?” you stare blankly at him, no response until you feel the burning sensation of his hand in yours. A heat that sends shocks through every nerve, it runs through your bloodstream lighting you on fire and as if you were burnt you pull back, shaking off the dizzy spell you rise to your feet, your body finally responding to your screaming brain. A sense of relief washes over you as the fear of losing your mind slowly seeps out as the haze in your mind clears, until your eyes meet his again. “Really y/n, not for a boy” you cry out in your head as your mind seems to be lost in awe looking at him.

You shuffle uncomfortably and it’s just now you realise how much of a mess you look as the embodiment of beauty’s eyes fall down. Your expensive dress torn up, what was once a full sangria and silver ball gown was now rags that wrapped around you with the bottom half missing as it stopped just above your knees, an uneven hem due to the rough ripping which took all of your strength, the white net underneath was visibly stained a brownish yellow, the cuts on your knee not being the only thing the dirt seeped into  but his eyes don’t even seem to stop there, they didn't even seem to notice, only meeting a piece of paper that lied on the floor. He reaches down for it, his eyebrows perk up slightly before handing it back to you.“You dropped this” he avoids eye contact, continuing to stare down, his hand abruptly extends out in front of him and he clears his throat, adding to the excruciating awkwardness between you and you wince at the sudden sound.

“Oh thank you..” you can hear your voice waver and crack and for the first time in your life, your voice isn’t confident, seems like a day full of firsts, your mother would’ve been proud if she saw you acting like this, like a lady she would have put it. Quiet, reserved but really it was just a suffocating stiffness that lingered in the air.

“Jisung” he completes your sentence, a small, shy smile appears on his face as his eyes look at everything but you, the letter still in his grasp he shakes his hand at you slightly urging you to take it. Your fingers brush past his ever so slightly as you take the letter back into your possession, a spark is sent through you and your fingers twitch, as if wanting more but you stop them from moving any further, your eyes slightly widen as you catch yourself falling so easily and if Jisung catches the weird expressions on your face, he chooses to ignore them not saying anything. “You are not from around here, are you?” His voice is light and airy as he speaks softly, as if you were made of glass and any harsh tone could break you, you can’t tell if it’s because of the immense awkwardness or because of the pity he must feel seeing you in such a state. You hope it’s the former and decide that’s what it is, when he starts playing with the edges of his white shirt.

“No I live in London” the words die as soon as they leave your mouth, you used to live in London, you don’t anymore. This only adds to Jisung’s awkwardness and it reminds you no matter how beautiful he is, he’s only just a boy who’s probably around your age. So you smile at him, letting out a small breathy laugh in hopes of lightening the mood, it works as he visibly unstiffens. “Used to” Jisung doesn’t press on the matter any further, doesn’t ask anymore questions, just nods. The unsettling atmosphere sets in once again and your incapability of standing in silence for more than a second, you clear your throat "do you know where this address is?" your tone light and airy, you sound almost clueless and it’s now you realise the true meaning behind every etiquette class, the role of the women is the domestic war, the war on power. For one to rise they must make powerful allies and that’s what this voice is for, to obtain the power of a man and trick them into helping you; so you're glad when Jisung takes the letter back into his grasp and examines the writing at the front, it’s worked.

“I’ll show you the way” and you nod with a slight smile as a thank you, Jisung leads the way and you follow soon behind, with his face no longer in my sight you can finally observe the rest of him. Judging by his height and build, seems like he comes from a well off family. Though there wasn’t a day you felt hungry, you weren’t blind to the outside world no matter how hard your parents tried to shelter you from it. The world is living off rations but the wealthy still have access to more, Jisung must have some sought of status or most likely works for a household with high status considering it seemed like he was running errands, why else would he be in a field full of lavenders and it’s only reinforced by the fine silk that flows as wind rushes past you. Somewhat similar to the material that makes up your gown, or what’s left of it, it’s an expensive material imported from colonies in the empire. He walks with no flaw and so you guess he didn’t serve in the war, meaning he has to be around your age; this new life is exciting and scary, you’re not sure what you want yet but you certainly wouldn’t mind if the boy in the lavender field stuck around for a while.

Jisung’s steps slowed and soon came to a stop outside a large estate, it was nowhere near as big as your parent's manor but comparing it to the small petite houses in the village you could just about see; it definitely was the biggest house in the village. You turned to thank Jisung, mouth slightly opened as the words were prepared to leave until you saw him pull out a key and a heat rose up your neck onto your face, in both slight embarrassment and excitement as you realised that Jisung must live here and your mouth couldn’t help but confirm your thoughts, “do you live here?” you blurted quickly with a slight lift in your tone, which you hope wasn’t too obvious in exposing your excitement.

His eyebrows rise, a small smile appears but he doesn’t answer your question, continuing to unlock the doors and allows you to step in first, a women who barely makes it past Jisung’s shoulders calls out to him, embracing him as she tightly wraps her arms around his waist, Jisung leans back slightly as a way of hoping to loosen her grip as his face scrunches up in pain as the struggle to breath sets in but there’s a constant smile on his face right until he peels her off. It’s then she punches him in the stomach, making him crouch down below her, holding onto his stomach.

“How many breaths must I waste in having to tell you to make sure you fulfill all your duties before you head to the fields'' she nags him and a smile is brought to your face at the violent display of affection, you guess he must be a part of the service team that works for the master of this house, which was exceptionally beautiful in the inside; much bigger than what it lets off from the outside, your eyes can’t help but linger elsewhere and observe the hidden beauty in all the small intricate designs. “Young master” the lady continues to punish him for his action and you head whips around at her words, she hasn’t even noticed you but Jisung’s eyes are constantly on you watching your expressions change as more as more information is being released to you, a smile appears on his face and at first it seems like a smirk but soon you notice the constant pink dust across his cheeks and you realise he’s embarrassed. There’s a strange feeling in your chest, a warmth that spreads and has you clutching your fists as you think at how adorable he is, your eyebrows furrow and you shake both the thoughts and the smile off.

Finally after what seems like hours of you staring at Jisung but in reality was no longer than a few seconds, the petite woman turns to you and acknowledges your presence,  her eyes widen in surprise and she rushes to your side. “Oh lord, my dear child are you okay?” she grabs your hands and ushers you down the hall into a secluded room that takes up a big portion of the ground floor of the house.

The kitchen, filled with plenty of workers,busy hands and food; she shouts at a maid to move a few things around and to make some space for you around the small table that holds vegetables and freshly cut meat. There’s the smell of spices that are definitely too exotic to be from these lands, parcels with German writing and several people cooking dishes you don’t recognise.

You're pushed down onto a small wooden chair that slightly rocks and it is by far the most uncomfortable place you’ve ever sat but you don’t dare complain even after the minutes pass and your legs begin to ache. The maids ran around you and even as you left that world behind, you still somehow ended up in the same position and then you realise it’s the fine silk you wear that sets you apart, the rows and rows of pearls around your neck and rings on your fingers. They don’t ask any questions, just wiping away at the dirt on your legs; the same women at the door pouring a type of alcohol over your cuts and it stings drawing out a hiss from you, “sorry” she whispers and blows slightly on the irritated skin. The kitchen quiets down and the other maids exit, leaving you and the same women who scolded Jisung, she didn’t bother to ask him any questions and quickly sent him away to carry on with the work he didn’t finish, she doesn’t ask you any questions either for it’s not her place to ask. 

She wraps bandages around your knees and your eyes wander around, landing on a picture of her with three little boys, you recognise the smallest to be Jisung, she catches your eyes and smiles “the masters, when they were little devils” she remarks making you and her both let out small laughs, “though they aren't much better now” she smiles fondly as she continues to wrap the bandages, you see love in her eyes and can tell that she raised them.

“The smallest is Jisung, am I correct?” you ask just to confirm your assumption, she nods and smiles, “i can tell by his awkwardness, it’s radiant even in pictures” you scoff and she laughs. "Who are the other two?" Your curiosity seemingly has no end.

"The tallest is master Jeno and the one in the middle is master Jaemin" she says as she cuts the bandage. You take note of their names and match it to their appearances though you assume they've probably changed quite a bit. The tallest, Jeno has crescent moons for eyes as his smile pushes them up, it's adorable. The middle, Jaemin also has a bright smile, probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen but Jisung still stands out the most to you, maybe it’s because you’ve seen how he looks now; the change is definitely visible, he’s grown much taller and into his sharp features. He's definitely handsome, epitome of beauty but by the way he timidly walks you’re not quite sure he knows it.

“Will these do, ma’am?” her hands hold onto a set of clean clothes and you only nod at her as you take the clothes from her hands, calloused and rough from years of labour. "Please just call me y/n" you tell her trying to remove your status and she only nods in return. "And what may I call you" you ask her.

"Daphne" she replies and you notice that she smiles at you, a full smile nothing quite like you've seen before and you'd like to think this what a smile should look like. Genuine. Instead of all the small smiles you recieved, the ones with hidden agendas and meanings, the ones because of who your father was, the one because of your status, name, title, money and a persuasion for your hand in marriage. So many smiles yet none truly considered one. God you hated that life.

"Now y/n let me show you to a room" she leads you out the room and you follow her upstairs, all the maids rushing back into the kitchen after you have left. She turns left and right and you find that the upstairs is far more complicated to navigate, with many different rooms. When she finally reaches a long corridor, she stops to point at the room that awaits at the end. "That will be your room ma'am" and before she even could finish her sentence properly, "y/n" you correct her and she only nods, giving you a soft smile as an apology."Please call for me if anything isn't to your liking" she says and just as she's about to step away, ready to leave you to get comfortable.

You call her back, "Daphne, can you please tell me who this is" you lift up the small blue letter that leads you here to this address, to finally put a name to the mysterious woman who only seemed to want the best for you and your mother. She takes the small letter from your grasp, examining the small font that's slowly fading due to the number of years it's collected dust. Her eyes widen as she reads the letter, her head snapping up to look at you, her lips parting slightly as if her jaw threatened to drop.

"My god" she says as she continues to read, shock written all over her face, "this is from the master's mother, dear" she tells you and you join her in shock as your jaw hangs a lot more obviously in shock. "She worked for your family when she was young" she continues to tell you and the ripples of shock continue to pulse through your body. Your mother and her are good friends from what you've gathered, reading all the letters you found. Yet your mother never even allowed you to mix classes, always telling you to stick with your own people, people who can pay for your time, literally. Yet here she was being friends with a woman considered below her, even considering sending you away to her. The hypocrisy is what shocked you the most, for you didn't think your mother could build relationships if it weren't for a social advantage.

"Can I meet her?" you ask, excited until you see sadness seep into her eyes, she looks down and she shuffles slightly. Her eyes glossy with tears threatening to fall and your own shoulders droop down and a frown is formed on your lips. "I'm sorry" you apologise but she shakes her head and wipes her eyes slightly.

"Don't be silly, you didn't know and it's better you found out through me anyways." She tells you and you're glad that you found out through her too, you don't think you would've been able to handle it coming from Jisung. "If you do not mind me, but when did she pass" you ask carefully as to not break her.

"Last May" she tells you and you hear sadness in her voice , as it slightly cracks and you release a deep sigh as to rid your body from the contagious mood. With that she hands the letter back into your hand and leaves you to wash up, "Dinner will be ready soon, please wash up" she urges you to go into the room.

You walk down the corridor, steps heavy as your heart grieves for Jisung and as you're reminded of your own father's death, though he planned on marrying you to a stranger you didn't love and never truly wanting you to live happily. You loved and still love him with every ounce of your being, all making grief an impossibly hard process. For your heart hurt and your mind could not comprehend why.  Your eyes stung with tears and your hands trembling with pain and still the mind was questioning why you felt sad. Then the guilt blooms, hovering above you, for this man raised you and cared for you and yet you question your grief as you sit by his deathbed. Yet you remind yourself that questioning your grief is better than not feeling any at all, you remember looking over towards your mother who wore black and instead of grieving her husband's death, she felt grief for her widow status that crushed her social status, for who was she without her husband.

So as you remove the many pearls and diamonds around your neck, gifted to you by your mother, you’re reminded why you left that life behind. You won’t be defined by your husband but by what you have achieved and for who you are. Yet you leave on the thin golden chain with a single pendant on your neck, as a reminder for where to come from and how far you’ve travelled. It was a gift from both your mother and father, the one gift you like to think wasn’t used as a symbol of your wealth to attract men in asking for your hand in marriage, the simplicity of this necklace led you to believe that this was a genuine gift of their love.

Changing out of your ball gown or the remainders of it, you feel anew. Stripping out of your old skin and into much comfortable and humble ones, you feel as if your new life is finally starting and though it’s far from what anyone would have wanted for your life to be like, it’s what you want. You’ve been here for just under an hour and instantly you're on cloud nine, floating to where only the sun is. The rays dancing on your skin and euphoria runs within your veins, this is life.  

You’re not sure how long you’ve been in a daze but soft knocks on the door is what awakens you and you're quick to open the door, not wanting to leave the person on the other side waiting but you’re met with a fist, that seems as if it malfunctions as it goes down by the side of the same person who seems to waking you out of all your dazes recently. Jisung stands there awkwardly, legs crossed and hands behind his back, he stutters as he says “dinner is...um.. It is awaiting” and with that he cuts himself off, rushing the words out of his mouth and quickly turns around, rushing downstairs.

You can only smile at him, how was someone allowed to be that cute. Following soon after him you enter into the dinning room, the smile on your face completely wiped off by the shock of two other men sitting around the table. Your back straightens as your body stiffens, by habit, you’ve been taught to look most confident when caught off guard.

“Sit here y/n” Daphne takes out the seat opposite of Jisung and next to a man you don’t know until he smiles your way, you recognise that smile and it’s still as pretty as it looks in the picture hanging in the kitchen. You smile back at him as you make your way by his side and take your seat.

“Hello, I’m Jaemin” he turns to you, dropping his fork and it clatters as it hits the plate, a beautiful smile across his face and you finding it comforting to think it hasn’t changed at all. He then lifts your hand to his lips, placing them softly on your knuckles all whilst keeping that damn smile held across his lips and staring straight into your soul, heat rises up your body slightly thrown back and he can see the shock in your eyes . Your well crafted facade cracking. His eyes are still boring into yours and you can’t move, stuck looking into his eyes, hands stuck to his until a kick. Coming from across the table, a force hits Jaemin’s shin causing him to yelp, instantly turning away from you and dropping your hand, you notice a small smile on Jisung’s face as he tries to conceal his laughter. You turn to look at where such a force came from, fierce strong features and an intimidating stare yet when he turns to you crescent moons appear, his aura changing immediately and the child in the portrait comes to life. “I’m Jeno” his voice is soft yet clear and all you can do is smile back before replying simply your name “Y/N” you tell him and he nods your way. 

Thinking that silence would now set in was foolish of you, for you should’ve guessed Jaemin isn’t the type to let there be silence and looking back now you could definitely tell he was itching to ask you so many questions. “I guess you have already met Jisung” he turns to you again and you only nod, looking up at the tall boy in front of you but he only stares at the soup in front of him but you know he senses your gaze as he twitches slightly in his seat, holding himself back from looking up and directly into your eyes. “He is not usually this quiet, he will warm up to you soon” Jaemin apologises on behalf of Jisung yet he grimaces at the words that leave Jaemin’s mouth but you smile at Jaemin ignoring Jisung’s expression.

The rest of dinner is filled with small talk between you and Jaemin, him asking you your favourite colour and trivial things like that, you discussed different authors and scriptors to which Jeno also chimed in on the conversation, both very impressed on your knowledge though you aren’t sure if they were impressed because you were a woman or genuinely impressed by the vast knowledge you had accumulated over the years spent in your father’s library however you brushed that thought aside, carrying on with the conversation, eyes drifting to Jisung at times who just sat there playing around with spoon, twisting it between his fingers instead of daring to look at you let alone to add to the conversation. Finally as Daphne takes away the plates, Jeno stands up dismissing himself from the table, “It was a pleasure to meet you Y/N, I hope you stay a while it was fun having you” he tells you with those same moons for eyes and you thank him for his hospitality “It was a great pleasure to meet you too, thank you for allowing me to stay” you say them at Jeno and Jaemin but they’re mainly directed to Jisung who brought you here.

“If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to tell me” Jaemin smiles, a hand on your shoulder as he stands next to where you sit and you only nod at him, he then comes to your ear, lips so close you feel them brush against the shell “Jisung will come around, I’m sorry if he’s making you feel uncomfortable” he apologises on his behalf for the second time that night and you wave him off with a smile. You could already tell that Jisung is shy and awkward but it’s not confused for hate or resentment, he simply doesn’t know how to act around a female and it’s clear the way he trips over his words and his very own legs but to be fair they are very long.

After everyone left the table and made their ways to their own rooms, you too made your way to bed. Laying there you think back to how far you’ve come, a few months ago this all would have been nothing but a dream and now it’s a reality and the euphoric feeling you imagine is everything and more. Freedom is worth anything is what you’ve learnt, the freedom to live your life the way you want. To be in control of all your decisions, living with the consequences but not a single shred of regret because you chose it and therefore it must have been for a reason. It’s new and exciting but so scary as the colony of butterflies bloom in your stomach, all the possibilities panning out in your head and for some reason as you drift off to sleep that night, you see Jisung in this future of yours.

The sun shined in through the sheer curtains of your room, sunlight dancing on your skin and the warmth made you feel alive as it tingled. The house was quiet and as you look out the window you realise that even the Sun has still yet to wake fully, still sleepy rising out of the horizon. The birds chirp and the lavender fields roar as the wind dances but there in the middle of it all is a figure. Jisung. Your eyes light up and your legs are quick to move, still in your nightgown, hair in a mess you rush to meet him there. The stairs creak as you step down them slowly, as if a child trying not to get caught, you try your best not to wake a soul.

Once out the door you run out towards the purple sea, the cold morning air refreshing to the midday humidity that sticks your clothes to your skin, instead the wind blows through you and you feel free as all boundaries and confinements are washed away but then it hits you, causing your legs to halt. Jisung barely knows you, how weird it would be for you to run up to him at the break of dawn? Very weird you decide as you slowly make your way back to the house, hoping to not make any noise that might draw his attention your way.

Stepping back inside, your back against the heavy wooden door you let out a deep sigh as your eyes fall closed in relief. Thank god he didn't see you, you think to yourself as you just stepped into the living room and your heart dropped down to your stomach, lungs stopping as you see him there. Jisung flicking through a book, his eyes come up to meet yours which are blown out in shock as you stare between him and looking back at the door, his lips fold into a line and you practically see the questions forming in his mind as he scratches the top of his head.

“Good Morning” you say with a smile but the embarrassment isn’t covered well, eyes everywhere but his. He softly replies with a mumble you’re unsure if he actually said anything back or if you just made it up but as your eyes land on the book in his hand and all thoughts are banished. You rush round the table, Jisung’s eyes wide now as it’s his turn to be shocked as you sit down beside him, taking the book out of his hand to have a look at the title. “Ah a classic” you say as your fingers run over the title and Jisung only nods at your words. “Is it your favorite Shakespearean play?” you ask in hopes of starting up conversation, all you get in return is nod of the head but that does nothing but urge you to talk again to fill the silence. “I like Hamlet but i think Macbeth is my favourite. The best character being Lady Macbeth, a strong ambitious women” you state and Jisung only laughs at this causing you to turn back to him.

“She had lost her mind” he laughs again and you smile

“Yes but as a woman she exerts power and it’s not really seen much in female characters in stories and real life” you tell him, explaining how a woman like her is admirable for her strong spirit.

“Yes but doesn’t Shakespear describe her to have a masculine soul that within a femine body, he is saying the ambition and power are masculine and therefore is she really a good embodiment for strong powerful females?” he argues back, questioning you and you can’t help but smile.

“But he uses her and the witches to plant the idea of murder in Macbeth’s head, he shows that they are powerful and can achieve what they want through manipulation which he explains to be a women’s method, they are in control of the men and it shows that if it weren’t for social confinments that they would pursue their ambitions for themselves, is Macbeth really the one in control?” you question him back and he smiles

“You win” he laughs and pride is struck through you, there’s no feeling quite similar to winning a debate but there's sadness at the bottom of your gut as you remember and miss your brothers who you would debate with until frustrations would burst out of you all and it leads to punches being thrown around.

“Let me guess, you hate Romeo and Juliet” he expects you to say yes and you know it’s because he probably thinks their love for each other is shallow but you can’t say you do.

“I don’t actually, aside from the whole love at first sight, I somewhat relate to it” you tell him eyes staring at him but unfocused as you think back to how your own life was in comparison to Juliet’s, “the being forced into something you don’t want and dying for your freedom, in this case her freedom was Romeo but i don’t think he was the only reason she chose to flee, I’d like to think ran away for herself and to allow herself her own choices in life” and then silence as Jisung took in your words, a perspective he had never really thought about, the story was always solely based on romance but then again he had never been put in the position of being forced into something so life changing such as marriage. Jisung couldn’t begin to comprehend how it felt to be used so obviously for social gain and being stripped and deprived of anything else that would hinder that.

 Sensing stiffness in the air, you had to do something about it, you finally got Jisung to actually have a conversation with you. “Still Macbeth is the best” and again you manage to get a laugh out of him. The sound is so sweet that angels come down to listen to it, the heavens split open at the first bubble of laughter that leaves his mouth and your eyes light up as your body tingles with pride for causing it, you’re addicted to it and you're itching to hear it again. You need to hear it again.

The moment is cut off though with the entrance of Jaemin and Jisung’s eyes avert to his brother greeting him a good morning as quietly as he did to you and Jaemin sleepy replies in a yawn, rubbing his eye  before sitting down opposite you. “Morning y/n” he greets you and you smile before greeting him back, turning back to Jisung to hopefully start up the conversation again. “So what else are you reading?” you ask and your eyes light up as you scan over the many books on the table before you.

“Oh y/n, you know how to read!” Jaemin jumps up, it wasn’t expected for someone to be literate to the extent they could read Shakespeare or any higher educational scriptures, unless of a high class, let alone a women but your father taught you all he could and then you leached off your brothers who were lucky enough to be sent to school but Jaemin had already been aware of this “Yes my father taught me” you tell him and he nods rapidly.

“Yes I know, I just thought you’d like to know that there’s a library upstairs if you ever get bored and want to read something” he tells you and excitement bubbles up inside you and the instinct to run up there and have a look at their book collection is something far harder to conceal then it should be and Jaemin laughs at your eagerness. “Jisung could use someone like you, he’s always trying to get away from his studies” and you hear Jisung let out a nervous laugh as you turn towards him, completely offended.

“You have the privilege of being able to study and you want to run away from it” you gasp and it causes Jaemin to laugh again but this wasn’t a laughing matter, you were completely serious. You would die to be in his position and something about the way Jisung holds an apologetic look makes you think he knows you would.

“I guess you’ll just have to be with him to help him study” Jaemin offers a solution and your eyes light up at this, the excitement running through your veins. You all know exactly what that means, yes it’s babysitting Jisung to make sure he gets all his work done but it also means you get to study whatever he’s learning and expand your knowledge as far as you can. Jisung seemed hesitant at first but after seeing how you visibly lit up at the suggestion he couldn��t help but agree to take you along with him when he had to study.

After breakfast Jisung led you up to the library, it was a large room filled from ceiling to floor with books, the sight alone made you dizzy with excitement, as you stepped in the beloved smell of old books filled your senses and your hands instantly rushed to run along the spines of every book. Your eyes sparkled as you looked over each one and Jisung watched as fascination completely engulfed you, he couldn’t stop watching as you pick out a book, couldn’t take his eyes off you as your eyes skimmed the blurb, he was mesmerized by what he wasn’t too sure of. His eyes didn’t seem to be able to move on from your figure until you turned to face him, time stood still as he watched more and more of the bright smile that was held across your face be revealed to him, you were beautiful. Once met with yours, his eyes scrambled away as they always do and he was quick to turn around and seat himself at the desk that sat in the centre of the room.

You too situated yourself on one of the more comfortable chairs, opposite to Jisung, you watched him begin to write, his head slanted and both arms splayed out on the table, he was the height of beauty and grace, the gods carved him from marble, so ethereal Aphrodite herself was jealous of his perfection, Apollo envied his grace. Though you were here to study, read as many books time allowed you, your eyes were distracted and little did you know they were distracting Jisung as well. Your gaze causes his breath to halt, his hands to sweat and pink dust to decorate his skin. You were dazed, stuck in a trace of his beauty and had to do something to get out of it, you clenched your hand; nails digging into your palms, pressing hard to wake you. You forced your head to the side, eyes looking at the bookshelf once again but your actions caused Jisung to look up, you can feel his stare on you and a shiver is sent through your spine, too scared to look back at him, afraid you’ll be pulled back into his trance.

“You have a lot of German books” you say, hoping your nervousness isn’t obvious and just to be sure you get up and head towards the books. You feel him staring at every step you take and you just pray you're the only one that can hear the loud thumping of your heart against your ribcage as a colony of butterflies bloom in your stomach. Fingers tracing over the German writing on the spine of each book, you try to distract yourself from him and try to compose yourself once again but then his voice echoes through the room, deep and smooth it sends shivers rippling through you.

“My father was stationed in Germany” he tells you as his eyes finally move away from your figure, a sense of relief washes over you as he continues to write once again. Yet you're still too nervous to turn around, too nervous to look at him, he who is the epitome of beauty.

“Still?” you ask, filling in the silence as you pull out another book, examining the words on the front cover but you instantly regret it as Jisung’s eyes fall back onto you.

“After the war he was assigned a higher position in the Rhineland and then after they were dismissed he was asked to stay along the French borders'' he tells you and once again your curiosity gets the best of you and you ask him another question. If you remember correctly, it’s been 10 years since the dismissal of the troops in the Rhineland.

“So when was the last time you saw him?” and instantly you regret the words that leave your mouth, your curse yourself a million times over. Jisung’s silence is all too overwhelming and your chest grows tighter as guilt takes over your body and just as you’re about to apologise, he answers

“He visited last year” Jisung simply states but you can hear the strain in his voice, the pain he’s tried his best to cover yet it seeps through and your glad you can’t see him right now because you couldn’t bare to see the sparkle in his eyes fade slightly as you remember the passing of his mother, that most probably led to his father returning back home. Silence settles again and your frozen by the shelves, the air so heavy it feels as if weights were holding you down, your mind hazy as you space out and as the common pattern goes, Jisung wakes you out of the depths of your mind with a voice as smooth as honey, it provides a comfort that sends shivers down your spine.  “He’ll be back soon though, he’s officially been discharged for retirement” he tells you as if he can feel your stiffness and out of the corner of your eye you see he’s giving you a small comforting smile, just to make the air seem a little lighter.

Time seems to fly past as you both sit there, Jisung’s hands busy writing away as he refers back to scriptures and your eyes busy as you read up on German politics and the structure of the Weimar constitution, that revolutionised democracy, the sun was now high in the sky as noon approached. You didn’t even notice until Jisung let out a loud yawn, arms above his head as he stretched and let out mumbles of how you should stop for today or at least take a break. You only nodded in response as you stretched your own limbs out, you had ended up curled up in the chair with your legs tucked away as you leaned into what you were reading. Jisung couldn't help but smile as he looked up occasionally to see your eyebrows furrowed as you read and he can't help the soft laugh from escaping his lips now as he watches you stretch. "And what is it that you find so funny?" You question him, eyes narrowed but your lips are clearly fighting back a smile and the sight of it flusters Jisung, stammering over his words ``N-Nothing" he answers and you let out a small smile to let him know you were only kidding.

As you both leave the room, you can't help but follow Jisung "and what is it you do after you are done studying?" Your question startled him as he visibly flinched at the sound of your voice and he mentally tells himself to get used to your unquenchable curiosity. "Except for picking lavenders" you tease. He lets out a soft laugh, the same sound you've been itching to hear since this morning.

"Nothing much" he tells as he makes his way down the stairs. Following him down, he makes his way towards the drawing room, sitting himself down in an old velvet chair, you place yourself beside him in a matching one. Your eyes peering over towards his hands that pull at needle and thread and you’re astounded by the sight in front of you, a male who knows how to sew is as rare as diamonds, as impressive as gold. Jisung continuously stuns you, his nimble fingers work diligently as they pull the thread to make patterns across the once plain cloth.

He can feel the burn of your stare on his hands, his chest tightens and his nerves are lit on fire, he is hyper aware of every wander of your eyes. His mind clouded by the mere thought of you watching him, his mind so fixated on impressing you, for a reason he’s not sure of, he doesn’t pay much attention to the needle any longer; a mistake he realises once the sharp point collides with the soft skin of his index, drawing blood. He flinches back away from the sharp contact as you leap forward to cup his hand in both of yours. Pressing your thumb against his finger, applying pressure in hopes of stopping the seeping blood, you slightly blow upon it to relieve it of any pain but Jisung can’t feel any pain not when your overwhelming heat rolls of you and radiates on to his skin, with every touch sparks fly on top of his skin fizzling underneath and seeping into his bloodstream. A fluttering blooms in his stomach and Jisung has no idea what this feeling is, it’s new and exciting. He craves it as his eyes drift to your worried face and once your eyes meet his, the emotion is buried by the overwhelming nervousness he feels engulfing him, his cheeks flush and his breath is caught in his throat. He pulls away from you and quickly stands “I’ll” he pauses thinking what to say next “I’ll get a bandage” he spits the words out as soon as his mind comes up with the excuse.

“I’ll get it, sit down” you stand up and ready to head towards any one of the maids that could help you but your steps are interrupted by Jisung’s voice once again.

“No it’s fine, I’ll get it” he blurts out, hand stopping you as he places in front of you, your head moving back on reflex, and with that Jisung runs out the room; feet moving fast as his left hand tightly wraps around his right index.

You sit there for what felt like forever waiting for Jisung’s return but in reality it was no more than 10 minutes, you were never one to hold patience. So you rose to your feet, eager to find the tall boy that let awkwardness roll off of him. Heading to the direction you saw Jisung turn, you make your way to the familiar kitchen, many busy bodies work their way around preparing for dinner as the clock is nearing sun fall. Your eyes wander the familiar walls with the same pictures you stared at upon the first day of your arrival, until they stopped on the figure they seeked. There he stood by the wooden table that just about reached his waist. He poured flour into a bowl, followed by two eggs and your eyes watched his every moment again and as if he could sense you, his rose to meet you once again. You smile because it just comes so naturally when with him and he smiles back, how could he not?

Inviting yourself in, you step closer towards Jisung, “A cook too” you say, you’re impressed and it’s evident in your voice.

“It’s a basic necessity” he says yet there’s a pink coating that dusts his cheeks, you know he’s flattered by your words despite his own.

“Basic necessity?” you question as you sit down, legs crossed, on an empty wooden chair just by where he stands “I guess I should learn” you state nonchalantly, not expecting the reaction it would provoke from Jisung. His head snaps to turn to you, his eyes searching your face for any indication that you were only pulling his leg, that this was only a joke but those indications never showed because this wasn't a joke, you were serious.

“What? Does a girl have to know how to cook?” you question him in a scoff, an eyebrow raised as you question his thoughts that control his expressions.

“No they don’t but I can be surprised, I know you are surprised I can” he rebuttals, calling out your hypocrisy but to this you only smile, you were glad Jisung could stand his own ground, it wouldn’t be fun otherwise.

“More impressed than surprised” you state, earning a smile from Jisung once again, you pat yourself on the back each time you manage to pull out that sweet, healing smile that seems to wash all worries away.

“Who’s to say I’m not impressed” he questions you once again and continues to mix the batter, adding more ingredients, again you smile at his words and Jisung feels his heart flutter at every stretch of your lips. He craves to see it more.

“Can you teach me?” your question catches him off guard and his eyebrows leap up into the soft brown hair that covers his forehead, “what I’m not totally hopeless, I’ve read a book on it before” you pout. Laughter rings through the air as Jisung has doubled over, unable to hold in the snorts and his breathing unsteadies as your words register in his head and this only makes your pout more prominent and your eyebrows knit together.

“I’m sorry” Jisung laughs out as his eyes fall onto your expression but he can’t hold it in, a few bubbles of laughter spilling out as he tries to calm his breaths, his eyes glossy as tears threaten to fall and you try to fight back your own laughter as the corners of your lips slightly perk up. “Did you say you read a book on cooking” he can’t even get through the sentence without laughing but he’s quick to reign it back in to allow you to answer.

“Yes” you say proudly, head still held high and Jisung bites down on his lips as the splutters of laughter threaten to escape again. “It’s obviously not the same thing but I’ve read basic methods” you state in defence.

“You make it sound like science” he scoffs at your words and you roll your eyes at his.

“Is it not, the mixing of substances to achieve a product. It sounds like alchemy to me” you explain your thought process and Jisung nods in agreement. Though you can tell he has something to say.

“Alright then, let us say cooking is science” he begins and you raise your eyebrow in questioning as to where this is leading “reading a method for an experiment is not the same as doing the experiment, there are things that are not accounted for, practical errors, measuring errors. The method tells you what to do but not how to do it” and before he can even finish his sentence properly you jump up, startling him slightly as he flinches back.

“And that is where you come in to teach me, guide me through the experiment” you plead but it sounds like he doesn’t really have an option, you’re practically telling him. He sighs but he has to give, how could he not when you're giving him your sweetest smile and when your eyes are practically begging him.

“I’m surprised you want to learn” he questions you “I thought you’d avoid anything that would have been forced upon you” he explains as he hands you an apron.

Your smile extends ear to ear as you take the apron from his hands, tying in behind your back you explain your sudden want to learn “Yes but I’m choosing to learn, this isn’t about adding another quality of a wife to my resume. This about extending my knowledge and as you said it is a basic necessity.”

Jisung only nods at your answer as he hands you another bowl, some ingredients already placed inside “follow after me” he says as he cracks an egg and pours it’s insides into the bowl and then turning to you he see you struggle, knocking the egg against the table softly you try and mimic his actions “Did the book not mention eggs?” he laughs and so does Daphne who observes close by as you send him glares that wish him death.

“Like this” he says as he places his hands over yours, guiding you but your eyes aren’t focused on the egg in your hold, you’re focused on Jisung who’s so close, too close. You feel his breath on the side of your neck and goosebumps arise on the surface of your skin as shivers are sent down your spine. The scent of cotton, jasmine and of course lavenders invade your senses and blur your mind. You can’t help but stare at Jisung, perfection personified as he concentrates on explaining how to assure no shell falls into the batter. Yet the words enter one ear and exit the other as you watch his lips move, your eyes stuck and it’s only when his eyes move up to meet yours does he also realise the little space between the two of you. His hands still holding onto yours, his eyes move down. Slowly they trace the features of your face, the bridge of your nose, the dip of your cupid’s bow and then they stop at your lips. His breathing halts, his heart skips beats as it dances in his chest and when he feels unbearable heat take over him he forces himself away from you. Quickly flinching back, his warmth leaves you, he clears his throat and turns from your gaze that still stares, he continues showing you what to do and no more words are exchanged as the heaviness in the air sets in.

Many weeks go by where you and Jisung spend all your mornings in the library, which had now become your favourite spot in the house, you look forward to picking up a new book every morning, look forward to watching Jisung so focused on his work, telling him all about what you’ve learnt and occasionally sparking up a debate but you also find yourself staring out the window wishing for the sun to only raise itself higher and higher as you wish for midday to arrive, to run away with Jisung down into the kitchen where he continues to teach you how to cook, some days he would take you into town to pick out fresh ingredients or some days into the drawing room where he attempts to teach you how to sow. After a few failed attempts, your patience wearing thin and much blood being drawn from your fingers, you give up on sewing however cooking is a much greater achievement and the outcome was worth every bit of it. The smile on Jisung’s face every time he’d taste something he’d liked, every time you remember a part of a recipe and every time he would sit down at the dinner table and Jeno or Jaemin would compliment your cooking. He felt immense pride in you and it fostered a love for cooking within you.

Other days when the weather prohibited it, Jisung would take you out into the lavender field. You’d sit in between the rows and rows of purple, picking at the prettiest ones.The sun high in the sky, august warmth embracing you as the wind blew over the roaring fields, dancing between your hair. “Look I learnt this from a book” you sit beside Jisung, his head snaps up and his attention is on your fingers now as they twirl the thin stems in and around each other to form a knot. “Purity, silence, devotion and grace are what a lavender symbolise” you begin to tell him “and you Jisung” you place the intertwined lavenders behind his ear, he’s visibly flustered as his cheeks turn hues of pink and it only urges you on “are exactly that” you whisper to him as if the lavenders had ears and could hear your confession, for these words are for Jisung’s only.

Jisung’s eyes widened as each word that was revealed to him, his heart thumping in his chest and his mind set on fire as chaos engulfed him. His thoughts scrambled and instantly his mind went to countless different possibilities as to what those words meant but looking up at you his mind cleared for he only saw beauty. The beauty your eyes held, as they sparkled infinitely each time they skimmed over the countless words on a book, the beauty your smile held when someone complimented your new found cooking skills, the beauty in your voice each time you called on him as the new found nickname “sungie” which caused his heart to melt, the beauty you held in the way you carried yourself never letting anyone put you down. Jisung adored you in every way, embers in his chest that grew into a flame, which spreads through his entirety burning all. A blissful pain sits at the core of him, aching, he longs for you but do you long for him? Is he but a fool to fall in love with a stranger, the stranger in the lavender fields. Is he a fool for falling in love with you? Is this even love? His eyes fixated on your lips, he examines the curve of them, the colour, their beauty. As if they were magnets he’s drawn to them, slowly inching himself forward, so close he could feel the warm air that made it past them.

So close and yet so far is he to you, the sweet smell of lavenders is dizzying, the sunlight burns your skin but against Jisung’s it only illuminates his, he glows. The urge to place your lips on top of his, eats away at your skin, the want crawls under and down your spine, shivers resonate throughout your body as he nears. The world falls away, the slight buzzing of bees fade, the tickles of the grass dissipate and you only feel Jisung. His presence, the brush of his knee against yours and the warmth that radiates off him. Your heart stops, you stop breathing, anticipating what’s about to happen next until suddenly Jisung’s head snaps to the right and reality comes flooding in as you hear both your names ringing and ripping through the air. “Jisung! Y/N!” Daphne shouts and Jisung jumps up answering for both of you “We’re coming!” Left completely stunned you sit there, mind in chaos as your embarrassment engulfs you. Your eyebrows furrowed, you think to yourself how you could allow for yourself to fall into his spell. What were you thinking? That’s the problem, around Jisung you can’t think, everything happens on pure instinct and desire. Then as if you had rewinded time, a shadow is casted over you, a hand is placed in front of you to take and as he did on that first day, he snaps you out of your daze. “Are you feeling well?” he asks in that same soft voice. Your hand twitches to move towards him and it takes everything in your power to stop it from falling into his grasp once again.

“Fine” it comes out much colder than you expected it to as you rise up to your feet on your own, his hand is left hanging awkwardly to which he slowly closes before placing it behind his head as he bites his bottom lip and your eyes can’t help but fall on them again, they which were so close and yet so far. “Let’s go” and this time you lead him out of the lavender field.

The walk back to the house is silent, the same awkwardness that hadn’t made an appearance in so long settles in the air, it’s thick and heavy and you can feel it weigh you down. Upon arriving back to the house, a carriage awaits outside, a military emblem on the back and your heart drops, eyes widen and your steps stop. “It couldn’t be” you let out at barely a whisper.

But the slightest sound from you is enough to have Jisung’s head snap up towards you, for he’s been waiting for you to make a sound, any sound to rid this atmosphere. "What is it?" He asks also hushed, his eyes follow yours and there it leads to the carriage, a smile rips through his face and he runs ahead.  Confused you rush your steps but the anxiety building up in your chest stays, the lump in your throat is still hard to swallow.

“Y/N!” Jaemin calls you whilst waving his hand eagerly, calling you to come quickly and as you step closer the constraining feeling in your chest dissipates as the figure that steps out of the carriage is an unknown one to you. You stand by Jaemin’s side, who radiates excitement off him and you can’t help but smile as the little boy in the picture is standing right before you, the same eager stance and pretty smile that even the sun envies. The man exists and immediately pulls Jeno into an embrace so tight and you swear you see Jeno’s eyes sparkle as tears threaten to fall. Jisung is much less subtle at concealing his tears, he sobs into the man’s shoulder and it’s only then you presume this is their father. Jisung’s eyes are red and he sniffles as his father let’s go of him and your heart clenches at his adorableness. Jaemin is as happy as ever, hugging his father as tight as ever, eyes closed in pure bliss. You’re smiling like a fool as the heartwarming scene unfolds in front of you, so busy looking at the happy smiles and the stray few tears that are still running down Jisung’s cheeks you don’t notice the new acquaintance step in front of you until he clears his throat and you jump to meet his gaze.

“You must be Y/N” he smiles extending his hand and you place yours in it, shaking it. “I’ve heard a lot about you in all my son’s letters” your eyes widen and your turn to the three boy, Jaemin with that damn smirk on his face, Jisung avoiding your eyes and as always finding his shoes much more interesting, thank god for Jeno who offers a comforting smile assuring it’s all good things. “Sir you’ve raised three fine men, who have all welcomed me” you bow your head in thanks and he smiles once again.

“I couldn’t possible take any credit for it, it’s all thanks to their mother and Daphne of course” he turns from you to her and she pulls him into an embrace “Thank you for looking after them” he says barely audible but Daphne catches it and just as softly replies “but of course”. As everyone heads inside you wait until Jisung is by your side to start heading in as well, “Crybaby” you whisper with a teasing smile you nudge him with your elbow, he scoffs as he’s wiping his tear stained cheeks but he can’t help smile back at you.

Seated around the dining table, as always by Jaemin’s side and opposite Jisung, their father sits at the head of the table and more food than ever is being served tonight in celebration. You’re much more quiet tonight despite Jaemin continuously making sure you feel involved in the conversation, you’re eternally grateful for him. “So Y/N, why did you leave home?” their father asks so casually it almost goes unnoticed by the boys but Jisung almost chokes on his water, Jeno’s eyes widen and Jaemin almost immediately tries to shut down the conversation “Father” he gives him a pointed look, jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowed as he shakes his head.

“Jaemin, it's okay" you smile towards him, "freedom i suppose sir" you answer the question and Jisung's father squints his eyes, as he lets out a hum in acknowledgement of your answer. "Even after all your family has done for you?" He continues to question "you come from the family my late wife used to work under, am I correct?" And you simply nod "yes I do".

"The late General's daughter" he states "I wonder if he's turning in his grave at this moment" Jisung's grip on his silverware tightens and you notice his knuckles turn white and once again Jaemin's stare is begging his father to stop as Jeno looks over to see how affected you are by his cruel words. You don't falter though, you know what you've done can seem selfish but it was necessary "I'm sure he is" you laugh out "but he's always known I'm never one to listen" you continue to pick away at the food on your plate and you can feel all there gazes falls onto you, as you look up Jisung’s eye bore into yours as he mouths a soft “sorry” to you and you smile back at him shaking your head.

“I assume you’ve run from marriage” Jisung’s father starts up conversation again and you only nod as an answer “Are you against marriage?” he asks and it’s if he wants tears to fall from your eyes as he keeps pushing where he knows it’ll hurt. “Of course not but I would like to pursue a higher education or experience the world first” you explain, still keeping your calm.

“You think a woman is capable of doing such things?” he asks again and it’s this question that really makes your skin crawl and your jaw tighten. Questioning your methods of gaining freedom is one thing but looking down on all women and claiming them unable is one you can’t stand for. “I think we are very capable, I think the suffragettes have made that very clear and sir didn’t you work with the Weimar Government, they were the first government to allow women to vote I would think their initiative would have rubbed off on you” and he only smiles at your answer.

“I was stationed in Germany and worked under the Weimar Government up until their collapse, you’re correct” he begins to tell you “I have to tell you that I agree with your view, I’ve seen much that women are capable of doing” he says and your eyes widen at his words “I think what you did was brave and admirable, my three boys could learn from you, I hope you can lend Jisung some of your courage” he smiles at you and your jaw still hangs as does everyone else's around the table and as you look up to find pink hues invading Jisung’s cheeks once again, if you didn’t know any better you would have thought it were always like that regardless. You nod at their father before answering back “I think I’m the one who’s learning a lot form Jisung sir” and the shades of pink darken

The atmosphere had lightened again somewhat although the topic on war was not a light one at all, as their father expressed his worry about sending his three sons off to war and how in ruins the country would be again, worry sat in your chest. Jeno and Jaemin are strong all physically, emotionally and mentally but Jisung is the sweet boy who wouldn’t hurt a bee. “What do you think of the current situation of our country Y/N'' Jeno taking you out of your thoughts, you head snaps up to him “I think the war is unavoidable despite our economic stance, Germany has already invaded Czechoslovakia and it’s only time before they invade Poland meaning our involvement in the war is definite whether we want it or not'' the table falls silent as they process your words and it’s not until Jisung’s father begins to nod and expand on your thoughts but you zone out as you watch Jisung fiddle with the knotted lavenders you had gifted him and your lips can’t help but curve.

The next morning a book awaited you on your vanity, a scarlet red cover with gold print, you ran your fingers along. “Sonnets'' it read and as you flicked open to the first page, familiar handwriting appeared “A collection of my favourite - Jisung” a smile spread across your face as it usually did when your thoughts ran to Jisung. You sat down flicking to the first poem “Sonnet 18” a giggle escaped your mouth and like a schoolgirl already aware of the beauty Shakespear's arguably most famous sonnet holds, the giddy feeling of butterflies blooming caused your heartbeat to quicken and a heat to rise.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:

Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And too often is his gold complexion dimm’d:

Annotations surround the poem as Jisung highlights and picks out certain lines. The second line is underlined and next to it he writes “Though you are lovely, temperate is definitely up for debate” he teases and you scoff at his words. You read on and lines four and five are underlined and his annotation reads “The eye of heaven is you who shines gloriously throughout the day and yet too often you allow yourself to dim. Don’t.”

And every fair from fair sometimes declines,

By chance or natures changing course untrimm’d;

By thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;

“You are my eternal summer, your beauty is one that isn’t possible to vanish, it’s infinite unlike summer which collapses in winter” you read on as lines nine and ten are underlined.

Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

The the final annotation as the last three lines are highlighted, Jisung says “Your beauty shall remain eternal so long as my heart beats, so long as i live and breathe, so long as my eyes can see your beauty, I only seem to think of you now as i read this poem and in this poem the memory of you shall live on” you heart beats erratically in your chest, you’re breathless as his words halt your breathing. Forgetting such simple acts as thinking and even breathing seem to be a regular side effect in the presence of Jisung, just the mere thought of him. Your palms grow sweaty, your heart clenches reading over the words again and again, you pinch yourself. For this moment, seems like nothing but a dream, your heads in the cloud, you're living in the heavens. The feeling is suffocating, your own throat is closing in on you, the pain in your chest spreads like wildfire, your whole body aches with admiration for him. Yet the constant question looms over your head, what does he really mean by this? Is his feeling the same as yours? Or is he portraying the beautiful friendship you both have built over the weeks? One thing is sure and it’s that you can’t ruin that, can’t let the heavy air seep in once again and weigh you down.

The days folded out as normal, Jisung’s presence still as overwhelming as ever but you couldn’t help but find serenity in it, he was soft spoken yet his silence speaks the loudest for him, his grace and beauty as  were one to be envied by all but you were nothing more than grateful for being able to witness it day after day, it were as if he had walked out of your dreams. The stolen glances, lingering stares as he smiled or laughed, he stole your heart and he wasn’t even aware it was his anyways. Sitting opposite him, you stare not caring if he or anyone catches you for your far past the point of holding any shame and allowing your eyes to do as they please.

"I have something to announce" Jeno suddenly speaks up, breaking the silence, all eyes turn to him and he audibly gulps. You’ve never seen him so nervous, fiddling with his silverware you almost mistook him for Jisung. He clears his voice before speaking, taking in a deep breath he prepares himself for the words that are about to leave him, “I am to marry” he says quickly waiting for a response, an outroar, a gasp and maybe a few tears but none of them come.

“About time don’t you think” Jaemin laughs out causing the rest of the table to release small giggles at Jeno’s expense, “You have been all giddy and heart eyes at that girl in the village since we were all but five- OW" Jaemin's face twists in pain, hands rushing to his shin as he's cut off by a harsh kick. Jisung and you burst into laughter not being able to hold it in any longer.

"And what are you two laughing at" Jeno punches at Jisung’s shoulder, immediately causing him to halt his laughter as he rubs his shoulder “Well brother, it’s not like it is a secret. Even Y/N knows” and you giggle again as Jisung enlightens Jeno on his obvious swooning.

“What?” Jeno’s eyes widen as he turns to you and you can’t help but laugh even more. “We visited the village and your eyes were stuck, Jeno you walked straight into Jisung” you burst out laughing as you recall the memory. Once the laughter, the teasing, the amount of huffs that leave Jeno quiet down your left with comfort, a bliss that you’ve never felt before, a smile that just won’t leave your face. It’s a beautiful feeling and you wish to memorise it for if numbness overtakes your body, you can relive this exact moment of the solace you found in those around this table.

“Is that three out of the four of us in love?” Jaemin smirks as he lifts his glass to his lips, looking around the table, Jeno scoffs at his words but confusion is written all over you and Jisung. Did Jaemin know that your heart only seems to beat for Jisung? How did he know? Who was the other person? Was it Jaemin or Jisung? If Jisung, who did he love? The questions ran through your mind in circles and it only spewed more questions to follow, your head was spinning stuck in the spiral of curiosity, but curiosity always killed the cat.

But cats have 8 other lives right? That is what you had decided later that night, sat beside Jisung on the stone wall, letting curiosity take over you - slightly. Your legs dangled, swinging them back and forth, whilst Jisung’s gaze was set on the crashing waves of purple as the moon pulled them back and forth; yours were stuck on him. The moonlight illuminated, captured his beauty in a way the sun couldn’t, it seemed the goddess of the moon saw greater beauty in Jisung than Apollo could ever begin to understand.

“I could not fail to realise that sonnet 23 was not amongst your favourite” your eyes darting out towards the fields as his turn to you, “It’s one of my favourites” you tell him.

“I’m sorry to disappoint but do you not think it’s a bit cliche” he laughs and your eyebrows shoot up in slight disbelief “and sonnet 18 is not” you scoff, finally meeting his eyes.

“Sonnet 18 is beautiful” he argues and he swings into you, nudging you slightly, rolling your eyes you nudge him back “Sonnet 23 is just as or dare I say more” and he smiles slightly, eyes turning back to the night sky, the clouds running over the moon and Jisung is left amongst the stars. “How so?” he dares to question.

“It is, for one, far more romantic” you begin “the thought of one loving you with so much passion, so unconditionally that it can not even be professed by words yet the love they feel is so strong they need an escape, to tell that person what they can not truly express fully, to let them show you how much they love you. To hear with eyes as Shakespear so beautifully put it” you nudge him again and he looks down at you, a smile as radiant as the sun,moon and stars combined graces you and again Jisung has stolen your heart in complete silence

“Yet what I love about Sonnet 18 is that it is not too romantic, that the love that Shakespear professes can be for a lover or a friend, he speaks of all the imperfections of summer yet still he loves it, he describes the person he loves as someone who defies all the imperfections for in his eyes they are perfect imperfections when it comes to them” he nudges you back with a slight giggle but you can’t return his happiness for you have been stung as his words seep into your mind.

“Oh for a friend” you whisper, he hears your words but not the sadness behind them as he continues with that bright smile “and that is why it was so perfect to give to you” his words are daggers to the heart, piercing through, it shatters and the fine pieces scatter throughout you and the sadness seeps through every fibre, cell and atom of your body.

“Are you feeling well?”he asks and worry sweeps the smile off his face as he finds the glossiness of your eyes, the slight redness as well as the unusual silence from you. “Fine” you answer jumping off the stone wall, “Just tired” you say looking out to the goddess of the moon one last time, unable to turn and look at the art she admired most. “Goodnight Jisung” you say as you turn back to the house, not sparing him a glance for he stole your heart and then broke it. 

Though that night your tears mixed with moonlight until Morpheus took you to dream and then the next morning tears mixed with sunlight as Apollo pulled his golden chariot, with swollen eyes and a throbbing head you promised this wouldn’t affect the beautiful friendship that had bloomed. Jisung may not love you the way you would like but he still loved you, as a friend. The mere thought of the word stung, another aching rippled through you and your bones quacked.

Many dusks and dawns had passed and since,you’ve managed to create some distance between you and Jisung but as once said distance makes the heart grow fonder and you curse whoever uttered such truth. For every stolen glance and accidental touch seemed to make your dormant heart beat with every intent of being heard as it rose to your throat, suffocating you.

Jeno’s upcoming wedding being the greatest of all excuses to run away from the burning presence of Jisung, for you would flee to the village with Daphne and pick out materials, help Jeno’s fiance pick flowers, handwrite invitations with Jeno and accompany Jaemin on whatever errands he had been sent to do. No one questioned how you decided to spend your time, other than of course Jaemin who couldn’t help but let his curiosity lead the words that spewed out of him, to which you told him he’d regret someday.

“Just tell me Y/N” he groans as he carries the large basket of apples “Why spend your time with me instead of Jisung” he continues to pursue the answers you deny him of.

“Maybe because, and I dare to say, I like your company more” you pinch his cheek and laugh at the pout that forms on his face “What answer are you looking for Jaems, what would you have me say?”

“I want you to say you are helplessly in love with my brother who is just as in love with you however both of you are too busy quoting literature that is up for interpretation rather than professing your feelings because you lack the courage to do so” you freeze at his words and he also comes to a halt, turning towards you his eyes, sympathetic “you both are as obvious as Jeno” he lets out a small laugh.

“He does not love me Jaemin” your voice stern as you try to convince one who believes in fairytales, your steps quicken and he chases after you “and how exactly do you know?” he questions, curiosity endless.

“He said so, he said he gifted me Sonnet 18 as a friend.” You scoff at the absurd word that causes so much pain and you say it with spite everytime.

“Like I said he lacks courage and as my father said you, Y/N, can help him gain it” he tells you, eyes wide with hope and you admire Jaemin for being a hopeless romantic and you only hope he meets someone who completely fulfills his ideology of love.

“I don’t think I possess such courage anymore” you break it to him for Jisung has broken your heart once, how can you have the courage to allow him the chance to do it again.

Jeno’s wedding arrived much sooner than expected, as the weeks rushed past in much haste as the many busy bodies prepared for the beautiful evening and as hard as you tried to separate yourself from Jisung, the universe liked to disrupt those plans. To the place it all started, so close yet so far apart, you stood rows away from Jisung picking only the prettiest lavenders as per Jeno’s request. The air was thick and heavy despite the August breeze that ran through the fields, an unfamiliar heaviness sat between you two for even as strangers you were far more comfortable. Maybe it’s due to the curiosity you held back then, for the boy in the lavender field, beauty that wasn’t done justice by the word but now that you know him, adore him and are in love with him and now that your heart belongs to him but his not to yours. There’s a void left for the seeping awkwardness to fill, an uneasiness sat in your gut and every moment was excruciating to bare as your heart pains at every beat that belongs to him who does not seem to care.

“Lavenders wouldn’t be my first pick for a wedding” he speaks up first, the silence with you was something he wasn’t used to, you always made sure to replace it with continuous talking and contagious laughter and now that you weren’t, it didn’t feel right to him but you only nod in response not entertaining his thoughts any further. Jisung preferred silence, his thoughts more coherent, his emotions understandable, the silence was comfortable and not overwhelming but with you he couldn’t stand it, mind always wondering what you were thinking, what you were feeling, he needed to know. 

So he carries on speaking, “If it were up to me, Irises and carnations” he expects an interrogation, your endless curiosity asking why that would be his pick but it never comes. So he continues speaking, giving you the answer you didn’t ask for “Irises mean faith, fitting for a lifelong vow” he laughs as he looks over to you stoic expression, cutting off his soft laughter he again begins to speak “and carnation, white ones that symbolise-”

“Eternal love” you cut him off, turning to him, finally speaking yet your tone is monotonous and there is no emotion evident on your face. There’s slight fear in him and it rises, a lump forming in his throat that he can’t quite seem to swallow “Exactly” he choked out, voice strained.

You let out a breath that seemed to be weighing you down, you couldn’t let him continue talking about the meaning behind the flowers, your heart couldn’t take it for aching stops momentarily and instead it flutters and swoons across your chest but then reality hit and it shatters all over again, the pain shooting through your bloodstream.

“Are you feeling well?” he asks as he always does and you answer “Fine” as you always do, even though you both know it’s a lie but he doesn’t push any further as always. The longing feeling for you to look at him and spill all your worries and feelings to him is so great but he doesn’t want to push you to nor does he expect you to trust him with that vulnerability when he himself does not have the courage to do the same back to you.

“I’m going to leave after Jeno’s wedding” you announce working up the little courage you have left, if you say it out loud then you’ll have to follow through. “Thank you for everything” you brace yourself to meet his eyes once more as you turn. “What? Why?” concern so evident in the way his voice wavers, eye glossed over as tears threaten to fall.

“I left to seek my own happiness in life, to make a mark on this Earth yet instead I ran from relying on my family to relying on you and yours” again your voice is completely void of emotions, yet every part of your body was screaming. Longing for the warmth, solace and peace you had found here and it’s at this point you curse yourself for memorising that bliss for all you will do is miss it.

“Did you not feel happiness here?” he screams out, harsher than he expected as he voice comes out rough and broken and you stand there eyes wide for this was the first time the pure,silent and serene boy that stands in the lavender fields has allowed so much emotion to course through his body and you can tell by the way he shakes, the way he struggles to breath and the shock that immediately washed over him upon hearing his own voice raised “I’m sorry” he mumbles in a heavy exhale.

“Thank you for everything Jisung” you offer him a smile as you leave, avoiding his question, leaving him standing alone in the lavender fields.

Leaving the basket of lavenders with Jeno, you rush up the stairs and only when behind the safety of your door do you allow the tears to come streaming down your face, sobs escaping and you hold your mouth to conceal them as you take deep shaky breaths to steady your breathing. Your whole body aches and shakes as it mours the end of your stay, the tears cloud your vision and as you lay down to ease the heartbeat in your head, you cry yourself into a slumber. Even as the dreams swirl around you, pulling you into the unconscious, reality never truly slips away, it haunts you as even in the world you build you can’t stray away from it. The ability to dream of anything further isn’t a possibility, he doesn’t love you and that’s the reality. Why bother dreaming of something that isn’t meant to be. Yet you can’t help but dream of him. His eyes, his smile, his warmth, the pink dust that always decorates his cheeks, his laugh and his existence.

In your days you are held hostage by the daydreams, the what ifs. It felt like you had loved him in every lifetime, you wonder if any had got it right? Had any been loved by him? Your body lies stiff, falling in and out of consciousness but your mind never leaves him. Days go by but time becomes nothing but a construct, eating only becomes a chore.

“Y/N?” a soft voice calls as the door narrows open, a steady stream of gold shining in. You don't move, your head feeling like it's weighed down but you can easily identify the soft voice that speaks. "I brought you something to eat" the footsteps near you, the heavy thuds vibrating through your head. Your eyes peek open to meet Jaemin who crouches down beside you. He moves the few stray strands of hair behind your ear, noticing the wet glimmer of your cheeks he wipes away the tears that stain them.

"What's wrong?" He whispers as if any harsher tone would break you, as if you weren't already broken. You shake your head as your only reply, voice too weak and broken to speak up. You would love to talk to Jaemin, to spill all your worries and heartache but this is a pain too painful to speak of. His hands hold onto your cheeks wiping away any of the stray tears that still fall. His warmth is comforting but it only makes you yearn for Jisung’s more.

Jaemin doesn't leave you that day, he sits by your side in silence. He holds your hand and wipes away your tears, he doesn't attempt to mend your heart, he just sits beside you as it cries out the pain. "It will heal, it will mend itself" he whispers to you as you drift off into the unconscious once again.

It’s the constant knocking at your door that drags you out of the depths of your slumber, pulling you back, the light that streams in as the sun is about to set and you wonder how long you have slept, what time it was and what day it is. Then another knock calls your attention from the window and Daphne steps in “Y/N” she says and her voice is high in surprise as she examines the puffy redness around your eyes. “I was expecting you to be already awake, it is almost time to head to the wedding” she chooses to ignore the wet stains on your silk pillow, choosing to bite her tongue. You choose not to answer her back afraid your voice was raspy and would break, you crawl towards the edge of the bed and swing your legs over as you make your way to the chair that neatly holds your gown for the night, the night that has finally arrived,your last night.

You can see her face change, each one expressing the internal turmoil within her as she questions whether or not to say something. “Just say it Daphne '' you sigh out in a weak smile as you change into the many layers that need to be placed under the gown.

“Ah well” she begins nervously as she fiddles with her loose strings of her apron, she stutters and stumbles over her words but you’ve been taught patience by Jisung as he’d do the same.You smile at the memory of him stuttering, blush across his cheeks as he got nervous causing him to stumble over his words more. You loved seeing him so flustered, loved seeing him progressively become so comfortable around you he never stuttered, became so confident and articulate it was as if he became another person but the same dust of pink never faded but the more you think of him the more it pains and your heart swells as it aches. “You see y/n” she finally spits out as if she had been wrestling the words “If this is your last night, would you not want to leave with a loving memory?” she asks nervously. 

“So it seems word has travelled” you let out a small laugh as you turn to her to pull the strings of your gown and as her hands move to tie knots she laughs as well “Nothing gets past me” and her nervousness visibly dissipates. No more words are exchanged as she helps you ready for tonight, no more words are needed as she sees you slip into the depths of your mind, thinking of what your next act is.

As she places the same pearl necklace you wore the day you came here around your neck, clasping it, she finally turns to leave and through the mirror you see her hesitate but she turns back around a smile across her face “It was a pleasure to meet you ma’am” she says with teary eyes “Y/N” you correct her as you rise quickly, wrapping your arms tightly around her and from the corner of your eye you see Jisung standing at the end of the hallway, witnessing the goodbye he run back down stairs. You saw the glossiness of his eyes and though you would love to leave as a happy memory, would he allow it?

You nervously make your way to the drawing room, there he sits in a black suit, his hair neatly styled yet it looks not much different to everyday. He should not look this good but he does because he is the epitome of beauty. He is beauty personified. You let out a deep breath before you step into his line of view, preparing yourself for whatever is to come next. “Jisung” you call softly but he refuses to look up at you, you can hear him sniffle and his breathing is heavy and you almost could trick yourself into believing he loved you the way you loved him. You sit beside him and take his hand in yours, rubbing small soothing circles by the knuckle of his thumb you attempt to speak, “I am leaving” you choke out,the words are stuck in your throat and he rips his hands away from yours, turning completely with his back towards you. You sigh once again, “Let’s me leave with good memory” you beg, voice small and shaky. This was not the y/n Jisung first met, not the y/n he knows now and definitely not the y/n he fell in love with for you were never one to speak so quietly, yet here you are broken. So he puts away his own selfishness to feel sadness, anger or whatever pulsing emotion that runs course throughout his body.

He turns back to you, eyes glossy and a pout on his lips as he raises a long string of black silk. “I cannot tie it” his voice breaks slightly and you can’t help but smile at his cuteness. You take the silk from his hand and wrap it against his neck, slowly weaving it in and out of itself, you form a knot. “Learn this from a book?” he teases and you can’t help but scoff and roll your eyes. Falling back to where you were with Jisung was never hard, falling in love with him all over again was never hard. “my father taught me” you say as you pull the silk slightly causing his head to jolt forward. A smile perks at his lips as he lets out air from his nose as a form of laughter and you don't realise the lack of space between you two until you feel it brush against your skin and you near closer, eyes drawn to his lips. Your breathing stops and your heart sporadically jumps around in your chest, beating louder than ever.

Jisung’s eyes are closed as he waits for your lips to be placed upon his but they never come and his eyes jump open at the sound of Jaemin’s voice, your warmth escaping him. So close and yet so far, his eyes land on you who’s now moved as far as possible from him. “Y/N, do you know how to tie a tie?” he walks in looking down at the balck silk he holds around his neck but he cuts himself off as his eyes rise to find you and Jisung awkwardly sitting beside each other. “Oh am I interrupting?” he asks in a chuckle as he raises an eyebrow and you shoot up onto your feet, making your way towards him “No not at all” you wave your arms as if it would convince Jaemin. You grab onto both ends of the silk strand, repeating the same movements as earlier and looking down at the silk you can practically feel Jaemin’s smile that beams from above. You weave the string in and out of itself and pull tight around his neck causing Jaemin’s head to pull back “OW '' he huffs out in a pout, you pat down his tie and with a smile as gleaming as his was a mere moments ago, you apologise. 

“Oh y/n you know how to tie a tie, thank god” Jeno rushes in with his father soon after him both holding the same black silk around their neck “Does nobody in this house know how to tie a tie” you laugh in disbelief. “Our mother used to do them,” Jeno whispers as your hands make their way up to form the same knot you’ve made twice already. He thanks you silently with a sweet smile, those crescent moons you adore showing up.You move on to their father, tying his tie neatly and much more carefully than the rest. “Thank you for everything, y/n” he bows his head to you and you whisper “It’s nothing” shyly. “It’s been a pleasure having you become a part of our family” he continues and his words are like a stake to your heart, the same aching reappearing as nothing fails to remind you of your departure.

“Thank you for welcoming me bu-t'' you're cut off instantly 

“no buts y/n, you are family” Jeno interrupts and if it was anyone else you don’t think those words would have held such meaning for Jeno is a silent lover, showing his affection through sweet smiles, concerned looks and kind gestures; he was never one for words of affirmation. So you smile, ignoring the tears that prick at your eyes, ignoring the deep breaths that leave Jisung and the solemn sadness on Jaemin’s face.

“We need to go” Jaemin looks down at his pocket watch, as always sensing the tension in the room and ready to dissipate it, he urges everyone out the door and as you’re about to step out, a warmth engulfs you as Jisung catches your hand in his. Turning back you are met with a smile but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes that hold a sense of sadness as they glimmer in the setting sun.

Hours after the sun had sunk into the horizon, the moon well into its reign, music rang through the center of town as everyone gathered to celebrate the new chapter of Jeno’s life. A ceremony so beautiful, you were sure you witnessed true love when Jeno’s eyes set on his bride that walked the altar.

After all the tears, it was finally time for the bubbling of champagne to intoxicate your bloodstream and to allow the music to take control of every swayed movement of your body. Standing under the yellow dimmed lights, Jisung glew a gold you didn’t know existed but easily was the prettiest you had ever seen. His cheekbones high and lips painted pink, golden flute in hand and silk tie loosened you could easily say he was the prettiest here, outshining all. For Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty lived through him, simple acts such as greeting guests left you stunned. Eyes chasing every movement of his, from the way his hands moved as he spoke, to the way he smiled once seeing an old friend, the way he laughed softly in conversation and when his eyes travelled back to you when he thought you weren't looking.

And to pull you out of that trance was none other than Jaemin, “Would you and Jisung stop exchanging lover eyes and dance already” he whispers as he places himself beside you, you scoff at his words and slightly nudge him with your elbow.

“Are you so bored that your eyes follow mine?” you question and his simple and instant “Yes” make your eyes roll as far as possible but you can’t help but smile. “When will you find your own love story? This is one hopeless”

“So when were you planning to tell me you were leaving after tonight” his words don’t come as a surprise, nothing goes past Jaemin but it still doesn’t fail to make your every movement halt as guilt overtakes you, turning to him you begin to explain “I was going to tell you as soon as the night was over, it was unexpected I promise” you say softly.

“I don’t suppose i can change your mind in any way?” he asks hopefully, still with the knowledge he wouldn’t be able to. You shake your head slowly, unable to say the words that will so obviously ruin the both of you but Jaemin is never one to sit in sadness, always being his priority to make you feel better. 

“Would you allow me this first dance?” he bows down asking for your hand and with that you place yours in his, placing a soft kiss to the knuckles he pulls you into the center of the floor. Legs moving to the beat, Jaemin’s hand on your waist he guides you through the waltz, breaths heaving and smiles plastered on your face he bends down once more to place a kiss on your knuckles as the music dies down declaring the end of the dance, a sad smile spreads across his face and he whispers “Goodbye” against your skin, looking up to meet your eyes who hold nothing but despair. Yet the hardest is to come when you turn and automatically your eyes find Jisungs, who just happened to be looking your way.

You offer him a smile before heading towards him “And why are you not dancing, I’m sure plenty of girls are just about dying to be your first dance” you tease him and he laughs along with you, hands rising they scratch the back of his neck as he prepares to confess to you “I actually do not know how to dance” he spits out fast hoping you don't catch his words but you do. Eyes widening and mouth agape, you let out a gasp 

“Jisung you do not know how to-” you're cut off by his hand on your mouth as he looks around to see if anyone has heard the sentence about to leave you. 

“Quietly, I think the whole of London can hear you” he says in a whisper still looking around. Removing his hand, you roll your eyes at his antics.

“Let me teach you” you whisper back and he turns to you, eyebrow raised as he assesses how good of a dancer you could be.

“I am not entirely sure, who did you learn from? A book?” he teases, still completely in character until you shove him and his laughter comes spilling out “You used the joke once already” you roll your eyes 

“I was taught by trainers actually, do you forget I was to be wed” you scoff at his assumption and rise to your feet, hand extended for Jisung to take. He stares at you, watches the way the light bounces off your skin causing you to glow, your eyes glimmer, smile bright and the confidence and charm you carry in inexplicably attractive as you stand under the moon, offering to be Jisung’s first dance and it’s here he decides you’ll be his last.

The moment his hand is in yours, you drag him straight to the crowd, the music is quick to start and you waste no time in giving out instructions. “Place your hand on my waist” you order

“Your what?” Jisung’s eyes are wide as he cluelessly asks

“My waist” you repeat again, emphasizing each word and you drag his hand up and place it on your waist for yourself. Then putting your own hand on his shoulder, you pull him a little closer. “Just follow my lead” you reassure him as you witness the petrified look on his face.

“Left foot forward” you say to him as you move yours back, “Right foot forward, feet together” you continue to guide him through the dance as you spin around the room, ‘Now left foot back, right foot back, now feet together” you repeat the sequined dance around the room, music thumping through your body and you convince yourself it’s that you feel and not the heavy beats of your heart as the space between you and Jisung seems to close more and more. As he leans in so close you can feel the air that leaves him, fanning over you. You look up and his eyes are set on you, only adoration is held in them and Jisung thinks it’s now or never as he tries to fully close the gap between you two, to place his lips on yours but then you let go, head turning to the right “Now we switch you” you say as you land into another man's arms, repeating the same steps you did with Jisung moments ago with another. So close and yet so far is all Jisung can think whilst his eyes watch you twirl about the room.

Once finally back in his arms, the music seizes and he’s forced to remove himself from you. You can’t help but smile at him as he looks down at you, breathing heavily with a flush of pink to his cheeks yet he seems to be gleaming in the buzzing sensation of a waltz. The air is heavy with sweat and alcohol, the room is filled with chatter and loud laughs but that all falls away once you look at Jisung. So you dance to every song as if you were the only two people to exist, for this was your last night and this was your last dance.

Endless glasses of champagne later your dancing feet carry you outside, the cool summer nights air washes over you, clearing your mind of the foggy mist of alcohol yet the coolness of the moonlight is overwhelmed by the warmth of Jisung’s presence as he stumbles next to you, tripping over his own legs he lands in your arms. “I think you drank a little too much” you laugh down at him.

“No I am perfectly fine” He quickly stabilizes himself, straightening out his clothes and you can only smile as he shakes off your support. “If you say so” you turn to the night sky, looking up to the moon who you haven't had the courage to face since. The wind rushing past you, crickets croaking and the stars blazing across the sky, your legs about to give way as the alcohol circulates your body, you find purchase on a stone bridge, Jisung following soon after you. The water trickles down under you, the calming sound washes over you and the solace you so missed seems to make an appearance once again as you allow yourself to surrender to Jisung’s presence. Silence sits between the two of you but it’s not the one you wish to fill, insead you choose to let it engulf you not wanting words to taint this moment. Your last moment.

Jisung however doesn’t think he can hold it in anymore, the liquid courage is just about enough for him to declare his roaring love for you, a flame that won’t go out no matter how far he pushes the idea of you away. He wasn’t sure if this was love but the ache in his chest all these days proved it could be nothing but love. The longing to be by your side as you found happiness, found your own way into this world and to watch you become who you want, is unbearably strong. This is his only chance before the goddess of the moon takes you away with her, for when the sun rises, you'll set into nothing but a memory. So here Jisung turns to you, staring at your beautifully carved features, moonlight highlighting every perfection; deep breaths he calms his nerves. Adrenaline rushing through every nerve, he finally builds the courage and out the words he never knew would feel so good to pronounce “Y/N I love you” it comes out in a whisper but by the way your eyes widen, breathing halts, Jisung knows you’ve heard.

“Jisung you are drunk” you laugh off

“Drunk lies are sober truths” he says in all seriousness, his eyes are begging for yours to turn to him and so you give in to their silent cry. “I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, for I thought soulmates were nothing but a fairytale until mine spoke to me upon laying eyes on you. I denied my feelings towards you, for I didn’t know if it was love I felt for you or not but I do. Love, adoration, affection and warmth. The moon only looks beautiful with you under it, the sun only shines with you beside me.” he professes and the sincerity in his voice strucks you, for every fiber of your being longs for these exact words but can you believe him?

He inches closer, his scent and warmth trapping you in a trance and you can’t find it in yourself to back away as he moves towards your lips, his breath mixing with your own, the flush off his cheeks that are illuminated by the moonlight. Everything is perfect except he’s drunk. Though your heart screams for you to close the gap, place your lips on his and kiss him until he’s breathless, your head scream the opposite, move back, wait till the morning when his head is in the right place, don’t allow him to make a mistake that’ll hurt you and when were you ever one to not listen to your mind. “You are drunk”  you whisper to him, so close he can almost feel your lips move against his, flinching back, ignoring the cry of your heart that desires nothing more than to feel Jisung’s confession. Jisung’s eyes open to find you pulled away, for once again he was so close yet so far.

“We should return” you jump up, step fastening back to the crowds of people who were still dancing and laughing. Jisung’s hurried footsteps rush beside you, his hand holding onto your wrist, he pulls you into him. Arms wrapping around you so tight, he’s afraid you’ll pull away and that he’ll lose you. You already pulled away from him once, you’re not sure you have the power in you to do it a second; so you let him hold you. His face hidden into the crook of your neck, he speaks into your skin 

“Love for you fades the exhausting hours till Kingdom come, for even then my soul only speaks of you, my heart only beats for you. Let me love and let me give, for both are infinite” he confesses once again.

Your arms instantly wrap around his figure, you allow your love to course through your body to his, you hope he can feel your heartbeat, the steady pace that keeps you alive for his existence, and him only. For without him what was the purpose of living? You stand there under the moonlight, red strings wrapped around you, Eros’s arrow shot through you, and hold onto each other.

Walking back, hand in hand, smiling like fools. The air smells sweeter, the world seems brighter as your heart skips a beat every now and then “In all honesty” Jisung breaks the blissful silence, his voice deep and smooth and it sends shivers down and through you just as it did the first day. Once your eyes are on him, giving him your undivided attention he continues “I lacked the courage to gift you Sonnet 23 but I wanted to” he tells you “Promise” he makes sure you believe his words and you can’t help but smile.

“You still lack courage, this is the alcohol’s courage” you tease him, swinging your arms back and forth as you walk on. He giggles at your comment because he knows it’s true, if it wasn’t for the liquid courage he doesn’t think he would have been able to confess to you but he’s glad he has because if he hadn’t, would he ever get the chance to?

“So will you stay?” he asks, voice hopeful and eyes pleading as he pouts, in hope it would convince you but you didn’t need anymore convincing, for if you want to follow happiness and happiness just so happens to follow Jisung, who were you to seek for more elsewhere. “Perhaps” a smirk makes it way up your lips as you give him vague answers. “I will take that as a yes” he laughs out, holding onto your hand a little bit tighter, to ensure you really weren’t going anywhere.

Love is a complex feeling, one that causes an unbearable amount of pain; as if your chest had been slit open, heart pulled out and crushed. An aching pain resonates throughout your whole body, endless tears and you don’t think you can live to see another sunrise yet it’s euphoric in every way. From the tingling sensation at just the sight of your love, the shivers, the heat that takes over, the trance you left in as their words hypnotise you, the warmth of their presence and sweet scent. In Jisung you found peace,solace,serenity and love.

“Jaemin” Jisung calls out as he can just about make him out in the distance “Y/N said she has decided to stay” he shouts out like a child, excited he’s jumping up and down and you find yourself smiling and laughing again, for with Jisung it’s the only thing you seem to be able to do. Yet as you draw closer to Jaemin and the guests he happens to be wishing a farewell too, your smile and heart both drop.

“Y/N” one of the two men calls out as your figure becomes more apparent to them, disbelief held in their voice as they call out to you. Jisung and Jaemin eyebrows shot up in shock, eyes widening as they wonder how you are acquainted.

“How do you know our y/n?” Jaemin asks, always being the first one to dissolve the awkward silences, the men are taken aback clearly by the way their jaws hang slightly.

“She is our sister” the taller stutters out, your blood rushes cold as the words leave his lips, what would happen now? Would they allow you to just roam free? You thought for a second before you mentally scolded yourself, they would never allow that. They will force you back. “I am not returning” you spit out, not beating around the bush, you get straight to the point.

“But you must, mother is left worried" he tries to grab onto your wrist but you move back not allowing him to get a hold on you.

"Worried for me? Or that the season is almost finished?" You question him and guilt is evident in his eyes as your question takes him aback.

"Don't be silly" your younger brother tries to calm you, "we just want you home" he tries to convince you.

"I am perfectly fine on my own" you stand your ground even though you see the frustration in your older brother, creep closer and closer to the surface "I have no intention of returning" you continue to press forward.

"Do you not feel shame, what would father have to say?" He dares ask. Shame? The word linger in your head for you to wonder if your brother truly knows the definition of the word or were all those years at Oxford a waste. For how had this brought shame upon you or your father, how does a want for purpose,happiness and freedom lead to shame?

"For if father was alive, this problem wouldn't have occurred. He would have listened" you hissed, jaw tight as you teeth clenched and the words slipped out through the small cracks.

"How naive of you to think'' he laughs and finally latches onto your wrist, holding tightly he's prepared to drag you to the carriage until another holds you back. Jisung’s hand holds onto your arm, pulling you back, looking back you don’t think you have never seen such fierce eyes. A red you never thought you’d see engulf Jisung, he’s not prepared to let you go. "Let go" your brother's voice is stern as he clenches his jaw yet Jisung doesn't budge.

"Jisung this isn't our place" Jaemin whispers, defeat in his voice and he is right. What say do they have in this? If you don’t even have a choice, who are they to decide but then again you are certain a man’s opinion will most definitely be heard by your brother over your own anyday. “Let go of her,” Jisung threatened.

Your brother couldn’t help but scoff at his words “She belongs to me, I am her blood and she holds mine and my father’s name” his grip tightening around your wrist as he pulls you towards him once more, your eyebrows furrow and you wince in slight pain, Jaemin instinctively flinches forward before stopping himself, getting involved will just make it worse he reminds himself. You smile at him weakly in hopes it can put him at ease but as both your arms are being held hostage, both cuffs tightening as the seconds go by not one daring to back down.

“She doesn’t belong to anyone” Jisung spits back “She is free to do as she pleases and she chooses to stay here” he continuously argues in hope of changing his mind , yet what can he possibly do? Now that they have found you, what is left for you to do? They will not let you live on how you wish, they will not leave without you and even if they didn’t take you tonight, they will come back for you. It’ll only cause chaos, you will again become a burden on someone else. “You do not own her” he repeats.

The words you so despise form on your tongue and as you open your mouth to say them, Jisung’s eye beg you not to. He knows what's to come and even as every ounce of your being screams and cries as the words are spoken, you let them leave you regardless. “Let go Jisung” voice weak, shaking.

“But you said you would stay” his voice shaky, encased in sadness, his grip weakens but his hold stays, unable to let you go once he’s finally got you but you were always a dream to him, one that never seemed quite real and though you mixed with reality, almost coming true, he was but a fool to believe you could be his.

“I said maybe” your voice quiet, breaking a promise you didn’t make, breaking his heart and breaking yours that was just put back together.

“She said for you to let go” Your brother interrupts, a smirk on his face that Jaemin has a dying need to punch off but he retains himself. Jisung lets go of you hesitantly, his hand still lingering onto the skin of your forearm and you take in his touch one last time. He watches you leave, tears falling from his eyes for you were so close yet so far.

The tears from that night, months ago, have yet still to dry for every living and breathing moment is lived in agony, longing turning into nothing but numbness as it engulfed your being and became you. Days and nights merged, smiles are a forgotten act for it felt awkward even attempting. The large manor is silent, it perfectly resembles the void in your chest. You live as a ghost, sleepless nights and empty days your mind always occupied with the thought of Jisung.

His eyes that held the universe, his warmth the sun envied, his smile were solace was found, his laughter that was contagious, voice that was soothing, beauty unmatched, the gods were both proud and envious of their greatest creation. The years went by and yet the image of his is as clear as ever, preserved in your memories, you live on in your dreams that can’t escape reality. So close and yet so far from each other.

You sit in the empty rooms, walls bare for the art never compared to Jisung’s beauty, you never found art that could express the definition of art as well as Jisung did. Each time looking at Jisung you found a new feature to adore, hidden beauties that appeared when the moonlight hit his skin, features highlighted by the golden rays of the sun. No art seemed to do that, no art seemed worthy of showcasing.

Your library remains empty, clearing it out of all books, you couldn't bear to look at one again. For everyone of them taunted you with the memory of him. The way he used to sit in the center of the room, arms sprawled out on the desk, his head so close to the paper as he would write. Your eyes would follow every one of his movements, so distracted you would forget about the heavy book in your hand. Yet now with a book in hand, your eyes search for distraction. Yearning to find him, to make the pink blush, that you so missed, appear as he couldn't take your stare any longer. The adrenaline of when his eyes suddenly come up to meet yours, the scrambling of his when you catched his stare. You missed it all.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer's day” the performer begins, as you sit around the large table for dinner. Your every movement halts as the words leave his mouth, your mind runs back to the lavender fields, into the small room at the back of the house, finding the scarlet red book. “Thou art more lovely and more temperate” he continues on but no you are not temperate. Your heart aches, your eyes sting and a wave of nausea over takes you. Your fist smash into the table, legs standing up, you push the heavy velvet chair back

“Stop!” you shout, voice hoarse and broken, you can’t help the tears that roll down your cheek. You can’t help the way your whole body shakes upon hearing those words, you can’t help but miss him. The whole room stares at you, a heavy silence settles, the only sounds are your whimpers as you sob in your palms, falling to your knees. Their eyes lingered, terrified. No one dared to speak to you first, let alone the events of the night. Afraid they would cause you to break down once more but they failed to see it was they, who stole happiness away from you, stole freedom and ripped your heart out of your chest. You wandered aimlessly through the many halls, staring out of windows you wanted the sun rise and fall, watched the goddess of the moon shine down on the earth yet neither held the beauty they did when Jisung was by your side.

Summer has come to find you once again, those who say time heals have never been broken. Time doesn’t heal. Time forgets, the world may move on but you do not, you cannot share the same ecstasy the birds sing, the happiness in summer flowers, For now you hate flowers, you hate how their beauty and meaning are only reminders of your longing.

“How about lavenders for the drawing room ma’am, I’m told they are your favourite” the maid asks, her mission to make you smile, to rid you of the constant tear stained cheeks; nothing but a failure is awaiting her. Just the mere thought of lavenders causes your skin to crawl, for nothing symbolises him more than the vibrant violet. Yet you turn to her, a weak smile and you nod because maybe the scent will help ease your heart and just maybe you’ll find serenity in them once more.

Though days were long, summer left in a hurry for now autumn was here once more. The leaves had already begun to brown and the vase filled with lavenders, which sat upon the grand piano, had wilted now - their scent and comfort decaying with them.

And soon followed the day, the world knew would soon be coming, had arrived upon us, September 1st 1939:

“we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.” you read Winston Churchill’s words in the papers, war has arrived. The heavy ring sits on your finger as you stare out the window reminiscing the day you were watching the carriage be prepared and though it is your two brothers and the Earl’s son leaving you can’t help but let your mind imagine Jeno,Jaemin and Jisung, For the war will take them further away from you, to barren land filled with death, guns pointed at them, bombs dropping at anytime. Though the war has imprisoned many,taken from others, you thank it’s timing for it has liberated you momentarily. The Earl’s son waved goodbye to you and though you raise your hand to send him off to a war you’re not sure he’ll return from, you have no intention of calling him your fiance whilst he is gone and if he returns you have no intention of calling him your husband. You pity him in that memory.

“Ma’am” a voice calls out to you, you don’t recognise who it is for every voice sounds the same but regardless it pulls you back to the world of the present for the war was already well into its sixth year. Though your body is here, your heart and soul never left Jisung for he had stolen that long ago. You turn to find a small envelope, blue like the ones that found you happiness. “To y/n'' the handwriting is familiar but to you all letters were painted the way Jisung’s hand did, for your eyes can simply not forget but it is what the letter contained that brought a soul into your lifeless shell.

As an unperfect actor on the stage

Who with his fear is put beside his part,

Sonnet 23 with annotations is what your eyes fall upon, the second line underlined it reads: “With great courage I put aside this fear to confess to you such words that I cannot express on my own.” Your hand runs over the lines, the smell of gunpowder but there is a scent that you so long for. The scent of lavender still lingers onto the parchment which ripples under your clutch. .

Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,

Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart;

The next lines highlighted “For this feeling was just as strong as rage yet it was where I found peace, my heart weakened at the sight of you and from that moment onwards it belonged to you.” A smile naturally took over you, the flutter in your chest an ecstatic feeling you forgot.

So I for fear of trust forget to say

The perfect ceremony of love’s rite,

And in mine own love’s strength seem to decay,

O’ercharged with burden of mine own love’s might.

O, let my books be then the eloquence

And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,

Who plead for love and look for recompense

More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.

O, learn to read what silent love hath writ.

To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.

“Know that I cannot express the words my soul speaks, for we are worlds apart so allow the empty words of the English language, attempt to convey my love. Look not at my words only but at the way the fool I make in your presence for my mind is clouded with you, heart beats for you and soul yearns for you. For you are my sonnet 18 as a friend and sonnet 23 as a lover.” Tears fall unnoticed, for you hear his voice so clear in your head, for six years you waited for a single word from him and here he has gifted you a sonnet between lovers, so how could you possibly love someone else.

“Yours forever Jisung, the boy who waits in the lavender field”. You sob as you read those words, a fresh new wave of tears staining the parchment as the longing to be in his warmth and comfort is washed upon you as if it were that day you were forced away from him. Opening a wound that never could fully heal.

Waiting is a virtue of love, it proves your love, for it feels equivalent to death and yet you still wait but there is a point in time where you can wait no longer, where you must stop waiting and strive for love now. At this exact moment, it is time. For you are ready to give up the world to run to Jisung, to find the beauty in the moon once more, to find solace in the sweet smell of lavenders once more, to find the warmth of the sun once more, to find happiness once more. For happiness was the only reason worth living.

You're not sure how long you’ve been running, legs moving on their own, you don’t look back you’ve learnt never to look back, never return. As the metallic taste at the back of your throat rises, oxygen running thin and your legs almost collapse from exhaustion. It’s as if you jumped out of the past, gown torn at the train station, you’re left in rags but it’s different this time. For before you ran to find your happiness and now you run to where happiness lies. In a field of lavenders.

Every fiber of your being pulses with the need to see him, hear him, touch him. To feel his warmth once more, to have his voice send serenity through you, to see his eyes again and to smell the sweet scent that lingers around him. You’re not sure what souls are made of but whatever it is yours and his are the same. For your heart yearns for him, desperate, it aches every living second of everyday without him. For a life without love, is a life unlived.

The rows and rows of purple are in sight and there in the middle of it all stands him, waiting. Jisung doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, he can tell by your footsteps, your breath, your scent and the sudden ease he feels. You are there. Yet he does anyways for the memory of you has haunted him for the past 6 years, on the battlefield, in the barracks, he would only see you, only hear you but he couldn’t touch you; for you were merely a dream mixing with reality.

But here you are standing in front of him, Your expensive dress torn up, now rags that wrapped around you with the bottom half missing. He smiles as nostalgia washes over him, was this real or were you just a fragmented memory. Was he simply remembering happier times, a time where you were in his grasp. “Jisung” you call out, voice soft and unsure, a hand reaching out for his own, to make sure what you saw in front of you wasn’t a hallucination, a cruel trick your mind played on you. Slowly a warmth overtook your hand, sparks sent through your skin and into your bloodstream and the beating of your heart returned. Tears formed but never fell because one of you needs to be strong, Jisung sobbed as he fell into your embrace, gripping onto you. “Never leave again” he chokes out, breathing heavy and uneven. “Promise me” he whispers into your hair.

Pulling him back to face you, his eyes are red and puffy yet they burn with passion, his cheeks stained with tears but the pink dust is always still there, you smile at him closing the gap and finally placing your lips on his. The taste of salty tears invade your mouth and your lips move against his and he kisses you back, placing his hand on your cheek he pulls you closer, thumb brushing over the top of your cheekbone. Your knees weaken and you grip at his shirt, desperately clinging to him as your knuckles turn white, as he kisses you with passion overflowing with each soft movement, sincere and full of the love he can't express through words. The scent of lavender is overwhelming and intoxicating, you press yourself against him. Your lungs burn as he kisses you breathless, sparks flying into your bloodstream and unbearable heat takes over whilst your lips move as one. Pulling away, chests heaving as you pull in as you regain all the oxygen you exchange, Jisung places his forehead on yours, his cheeks pink and in between breaths you whisper against his lips “I promise” and again he pulls you in, lips crashing on yours.

This is your first love, it may not be your last but it will be the one you remember most, for it taught you how to love, it taught you the struggles of love and it taught you to feel loved. In search of fulfillment and meaning, you weren't looking for love but it found you and soon after fulfillment and meaning came in the form of a boy in a lavender field.

© (jisungiest) 2021. All Rights Reserved.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 6

Hannibal sits in on a regular conversation between y/n and her family. Y/n insists it could have gone worse.

⚠️Bigass trigger warning⚠️: Verbal abuse, emotional manipulation, blood, mention of alcohol abuse and suicide

Anna lived her life believing that she was the main character, constantly denying personhood to everyone around her. She was the romantic hero, and everyone else existed to forward her plot.

This metaphor was imperfect, however, because in all the books you'd read, the main character must overcome some kind of challenge. Nobody ever said no to Anna. Nobody ever criticized Anna. Nobody but you. So you were pigeonholed into the role of antagonist for it. You had to give her credit; growing up on the receiving end of her and Theresa's torture was a compelling villain origin story.

It was obvious that she only wanted you at her wedding to present her with an obstacle. Heaven forbid her story progress without some semblance of petty drama out of her control. She'd cornered you into a painful catch-22; you wanted vengeance, but you couldn't give her the satisfaction of having her special day ruined. What was your play? Ruin it just a little? Walk away?

These thoughts passed through your mind as you sat through the boring ceremony. You wanted to lean over and whisper everything to Hannibal, but he seemed lost in his own thoughts. The vows seemed to drag on forever. Liam's English accent grated on your ears and you wished that he would just shut the hell up.

The ceremony concluded and you hoped to skip out on the reception with a purse full of mini cannolis, but fate had other plans. In a last-minute reach for some kind of scene, the blushing bride waved you over to the head table.

"[F/N]!" Anna shouted, with a big smile across her face. "Come on!"

You fought the urge to feel endeared by this. She looked too happy to be harmful. Your guard was all the way up as you and Hannibal approached the table.

Hannibal pulled a seat out for you while you studied Anna's expression. She fixed her doe eyes on Hannibal. You knew from experience that Anna had the same powerlust as grandma and Theresa. She was just better at keeping a lid on it.

"[F/N], you remember Liam?" Anna said, her voice brimming with excitement.

"Yeah." You nodded, scooting your chair up. "Nice to see you again, Liam."

"Good to see you again, too [F/N]."

"Liam is from Birmingham." She bragged, her smile somehow growing wider.

"Alabama?" You piped up before taking a drink from your water glass.

Every time you were forced to interact with Liam, she reminded you that the man with the strong and unmistakable English accent, was in fact from England. And every time, you slipped in the Alabama comment. It was never not funny.

"Liam, Anna," you said. "This is my fiance, Dr. Hannibal Lecter."

"Many congratulations to you two." Hannibal offered.

"Dr. Lecter, thank you so much for coming." Anna returned. "And thank you for taking such good care of our precious [F/N]. I hope she's not giving you too much trouble. She was quite a handful growing up, but we made it work."

"Don't flatter yourself, you're only four years older than me." You hide your passive-aggressive jab beneath a smile. "You can't take credit for a job you didn't do."

Grandma always thought Anna's protective, borderline maternal behavior towards you was adorable. Of course, it disgusted you. You were little more than an accessory to her. A baby doll she could simulate motherhood with. But, in fairness to her, that was all you were to the adult in the house too. Monkey see, monkey do.

"So have you two set a date yet?" Grandma interrupted your thoughts, just trying to keep the tension down.

"Goodness, no." Hannibal answered. "Ours is a long-term engagement."

"Yeah." You added. "Not until I finish school."

"Well, it's not my fault you aren't expected to graduate on time." Grandma said into her wine.

You tightened your grip on your water glass. "Well, changing your major halfway through will do that."

"I'm just saying," Grandma continued. Whenever she was 'just saying' anything, you knew she was raring to stir things up. "If you had just stayed the engineering track, you wouldn't have to keep Hannibal waiting."

"Well!" Anna cut in, offended that the attention was off her for more than a minute. "Liam and I waited until after college."

"Yes, Anna," Grandma said dismissively, before turning back to you. "Y'know, Dr. Lecter here could probably tell you that psychologically speaking, women are more likely to drop out of college and become strippers when they change their majors?"

Now it was Hannibal's turn to down his entire glass of wine. "Ms. [L/N], where did you get that information?"

"Oh, it was an article I found on Facebook." Grandma answered. "I'll have [F/N] send you a link."

"Ms. [L/N]," Hannibal cleared his throat. "Are you familiar with the concept of misinformation?"

"Of course." She looked offended at the implication that she could possibly not know something.

"See, social media websites like Facebook are inundated with misinformation campaigns." Hannibal explained. "Your claim is not rooted in any psychological fact."

"Yeah, also," You cut in. You scanned the area for escape routes if your attempt to change the subject went awry. "There's a wonderful documentary about how Facebook misinformation campaigns targeted rural counties in England leading up to the Brexit vote."

"Oh, we have a funny story about Brexit." Anna interrupted, taking the bait, hook line and sinker.

Before she could recount the same boring anecdote about being at some regional chain restaurant when the vote was cast, Theresa and her husband joined the table.

"Sorry we're late," Theresa sat down. "Damage control is a twenty-four hour job. What were we talking about?"

"Misinformation." Liam said.

"Perfect timing." You muttered.

"Finally, all three of my girls are together again." Grandma threw her head back and rejoiced. "When was the last time we all got together? Just us four girls, huh?"

"Remember the day before prom, we all went out go get manicures?" Anna reminisced. "And we took pictures of us all dressed up?"

"Oh I remember." You scanned the area for any alcohol to ingest.

"Oh, this is so funny." Grandma laughed hysterically. "Dr. Lecter, did you hear this story? [F/N] went to the prom with a boy who had all along been using her to get close to Theresa! They got together that night! Dated for two whole years after that."

"I've heard an iteration of it." He said, looking over his shoulder. He flagged down a waiter who was holding a bottle of champagne. "Leave the bottle, please."

"Don't drink too much, [F/N]." Anna scolded. "Save some alcohol for the rest of us."

You made sure to maintain eye contact with her as you filled your flute to capacity. "Grandma's paying, isn't she?"

"Anna, baby," Grandma said, rubbing her temples. "It's fine. Let [F/N] drink herself silly. It's a party, right?"

"Wow," Theresa sneered. You knew exactly what she was going to say next. "Like mother, like daughter."

Everyone at the table had enough decorum to recognize that Theresa went too far. You crushed the champagne flute in your grip, letting shards of glass dig into your skin. You glared at Theresa, blood oozing from your palm and dripping onto the white tablecloth.

Wordlessly, Hannibal removed the offending glass from your hand and swaddled the affected area in a napkin. He put pressure on the cut, letting the blood absorb into the cloth.

"Is this the famed '[L/N] woman telepathy'?" Liam whispered to Anna.

"No, [F/N] is just mad because her mother was a drunk who killed herself." Anna thought she was being inconspicuous.

"This has been fun." You stand up from the table. "Really. Great way to spend a Saturday."

"[F/N], sit down..." Grandma ordered, sounding exhausted. "You know Theresa didn't mean that."

"No." You said, each syllable out of her mouth pushing you a step closer to your breaking point. "Y'know what? No. I don't have to put up with this anymore. Anna, congratulations. I hope you and Liam have many long years together."

You turned around to exit as quietly as you could, Hannibal at your side. Your grandmother, who somehow hadn't hit her daily allotted dose of confrontation, wouldn't have it.

"Dr. Lecter, tell [F/N] she's being unreasonable." Grandma pleaded.

Hannibal raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. In his long-spanning career, he'd never once met a person as tone-deaf as Beatrice [L/N]. He kept his quiet composure as he slowly approached the table.

"Beatrice," he said, beckoning her to lean in. He whispered something into her ear that left her stunned and quaking.

You could hear your grandmother's hysterical sobs growing softer as Hannibal hurried you out.

"Keep pressure on that cut, love." He instructed, talking over the increasingly loud shouts of agony from the head table. "You'll need a few stitches."

Once you were far enough from the venue, you had to ask. "What on earth did you say to her?"

"Nothing that you don't already know." He answered, facing forward.

[littlemissnoname13]

love ur blog, btw this is a request for draco malfoy: can you make it where the reader loves coffee and draco also apparently is in love with it and they meet at some coffee shop and yeah u can continue how u like it

Hi lovely! Thank you for your kind words and your request. 💕

As a caffeine dependent human, writing this was so much fun. I hope you like it. X

Same Ideas. Varying Interpretations (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Word count: 1517

Coffee shop AU

Warnings: None just excessive mentions of coffee and soft!Draco pining for the reader.

Draco Malfoy was never really a morning person. 

The only reason he even dragged himself out of bed was the want for a decent sized cup of coffee from the coffee shop down the street. 

Even though he was not a morning person, he was definitely becoming a weekend person. 

Weekends meant he could wake up late, maybe prolong his otherwise quick shower.

To top it all off, that he wouldn’t even have to order his coffee to go! 

In fact, he would get to sit on one of those infuriating little tables in the far corner that never stopped wobbling and look at you and whatever it is that you were drinking that day. 

Sometimes you’d have a tall glass filled to the brim with iced coffee next to you. On other times, you’d be hugging a mug and absently licking whipped cream off your lips—making his heart palpitate in the process.

But within the unpredictability of your coffee order and the color of the dresses that you wore, two things remained constant. 

One, you seemed to really like the buttered croissant they served.

Two, he loved watching you nibble into it as you flipped through the pages of your book. 

And so, on a strangely sunny Saturday morning, Draco decided to stop beating around the bush and he finally managed to ask the lady at the counter to have a croissant delivered to your table. 

“Oh. I didn’t order any today.” You said politely and shook your head when you saw the pastry. 

“Courtesy of one of our regular patrons.” The server smiled before leaving you with a golden brown and perfectly curvaceous croissant. 

Draco observed the whole interaction from afar—taking long slow sips of coffee as dark as his black suit. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to know it was him. He just wasn’t sure how you’d feel about a stranger buying you a croissant. 

~~~~~~

The very next Saturday, Draco took his regular seat at the coffee shop and opened the daily prophet in front of him.

Your table remained empty as he scanned the paper—pretending like your absence didn’t bother him. 

I drove her away. 

That’s the only explanation. 

Why is she not here? 

Draco was so busy hyperventilating all alone that he almost didn’t notice a server bring what looked like a buttered croissant on his table. 

He put his paper down for a second and arched a brow at the server who simply shrugged as he nodded towards the door. 

You were just exiting the coffee shop with a to-go cup in your hands—clad in a lilac colored blouse that somehow made the freshly cut tulips wrapped in paper you had tucked under your arms look even more vibrant. 

When Draco took notice of the to-go cup in your hand, he quickly paid for his coffee and followed you out. 

“How did you know it was me?” He called out making him instantly regret this decision when you whirled around to face him. 

To his utter surprise, you flashed him a small smile. 

“Black coffee, no sugar or creamer.” You said. “Every weekend, I see you drink the same hot beverage mr. regular patron. It probably tastes horrible by the way.” 

“It absolutely does not.” He retorted as you both started to walk down the cobblestone. “I don’t understand why you’d choose to ruin a drink that is perfectly good on its own.” 

And both of you kept talking and talking as he walked you all the way home. 

“It was nice talking to you.” You said as you stepped onto your front porch step. 

“Likewise y/n.” Draco said as he put his hands in his pockets and started to turn away. 

Throughout your walk, he’d wanted to ask if you’d like to have dinner with him sometime but the words refused to leave his lips partly due to his fear of rejection. 

Just as he was walking away, he heard you call out his name. 

“Draco. Wait.” 

“Yes?” 

“Dinner tomorrow? Seven-ish? No pressure.” You asked.

Draco didn’t know what you meant by seven-ish—if it meant after or before seven. What he did know was that he was going to be there early anyway. 

Just to be sure. 

~~~~~~~~~

When Draco saw you in your deep red dress that night, he quickly decided then and there that he’d never look at the color the same way ever again. 

He was sure that he’d forever associate the color with your stunning little number for the rest of eternity. 

And to his absolute and utter delight, the date went perfectly well. 

It was strange how things flowed so naturally with you that it felt almost effortless. 

So much so that both of you were the very last people that left the restaurant that night. And being the caffeine addicts that you both were, both of you found yourselfs craving a cup of coffee. 

“I don’t think there’s anything open at this ungodly hour of the night Draco.” You said sadly as you walked with him down the sidewalk—moonlight casting terribly tall shadows of the two of you on the ground. 

The tip of your fingers lightly brushed with his as if on accident and he seized this opportunity to intertwine your fingers with his. 

He fought the smile tugging at his lips when he felt you hold his hands tight before finally saying. 

“I know a place.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~

You let him take the lead as you both ran along the sidewalks giggling like children towards wherever he was taking you. 

From one of the houses along the way, an elderly man poked his head outside of his window and yelled at you both for causing a ruckus at two-thirty in the morning. 

“Shhhhhhh…” Draco whispered, suppressing a chuckle as you both hid inside an alcove as placed his hands over your mouth. 

His face was so terribly close to yours and you felt tingly all over your body when you looked into his shiny grey eyes. 

He had the kind of eyes that could convince you to do just about anything with one simple look. 

Terrifying yet so so comforting. 

When the threat of being yelled at by the old man cleared, he led you all the way to a small 24/7 diner situated at the far end of the road. 

The lady at the counter gave him a smile like he visited the place all the time. 

“Are you a regular patron over here too?” You asked out of curiosity the lady poured you both a cup of coffee.

“I come here when I can’t sleep.” He said, taking a gulp of his coffee. “No one really comes here at this time of the night and the coffee isn’t half bad.” 

You nodded and took a big sip from your own cup observing how his skin glowed a shade of bright pink from the neon sign on the window. 

It felt good with him. 

Even the black coffee that you were drinking felt nice and soothing. 

Just when you thought the night couldn’t get any better, a slow song started to play on the radio at the diner. It didn’t even bother you that the song kept cutting off due to the static. 

“This is such a lovely song.” You told him, making a crooked smile form on his face. 

“Care to dance with me then?” He asked. 

“Here? ” 

“Yes here.” 

You opened your mouth to object but he was already pulling you up—gently swaying you to the music.

The lady at the counter shook her head and went towards the back of the diner leaving you both to it. 

With his arms around your waist and your head resting on his chest, your bodies moved with the music.

From where your head was resting, you could easily hear the wild thumping of his heart and you wondered if he could hear yours. 

You slowly tilted your head upwards to look at him and he lovingly tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ears. 

As his face drew in closer and closer, you closed your eyes and met him halfway.

His lips tasted like caffeine. 

They woke you up, gave you a rush and had something addictive about them. 

He kissed you so tenderly—his lips moving slowly in synchronisation with yours. 

But somewhere between those soft kisses, you could tell that he was holding back something more ravenous and intense. 

It only made you want to keep kissing him.

That night and the nights to come.

 ~~~~~~some months later~~~~~~~

“Not this again.” Your boyfriend shook his head as he took a sip from his mug before taking a bite from YOUR croissant.

“Well forgive me for wanting my coffee to actually taste good.” You rolled your eyes at him as you stirred your straw of your iced coffee. You’d asked for two pumps of vanilla syrup to be added to your drink and Draco gagged at the idea. 

The way you both took your respective coffees was a perfect way to describe your relationship. 

Same ideas. 

Varying interpretations. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @dracomalfoyisindahouse @dracomalfoys-wh0re @maybesandohnos @justfangirlthingies @desiredmalfoy @dlmmdl @trainintersection @fa-me @dracoswhore007 @paulina1998 @wh0re4blaise @marrymetheonott @quacksonsssandtea @letoof @rvaldez7569 @loloo22 @emma67 @berriemalfoy @thegaudess @itchywitch33 @louweasleymalfoy @lunar0se10 @savagelysarcasticslytherin @fleursbabe @teawineaddict @thebitchybeatle @malfoyxxdraco23 @fantasyfairysworld @trashyvicks @h0ggyw0ggyh0gwarts @l0vely-lupin @linasylveon @amwitherspoon

Love,

V

[missymurphy1985]

Reminiscing

Warnings - tooth rotting fluff... And smut. Obvs. Bit of a Daddy Kink thrown in cuz why the hell not?

Taglist (message me to be added!)

@queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @janelongxox @being-worthy

You sat in the large armchair, in the big bay window of your Dublin home, blanket over your legs, as you immersed yourself in the latest John Grisham novel. Your husband was out, dropping his sons off back at their mum's after spending the weekend with you. You couldn't help but pinch yourself on a regular basis. Gorgeous husband, amazing young stepsons, even Cillians ex-wife, Lisa, was someone you considered a close friend - the split had been amicable, and she'd encouraged her sons with Cillian to welcome you with open arms. You even met her for lunch a few times a month, much to Cillian's surprise. He was more concerned the two of you were comparing notes than anything else!

Hearing the front door open and close, he smiled as he re-entered the room. Leaning over to kiss your lips, he sank down onto the sofa and picked his own book up from the coffee table.

"How was Lisa?" You asked, taking a sip of your coffee.

"Good - she said she'd call you later, something about a girls night out next week."

"Sounds fun - I'm up for that." You nestled down snug in the chair and continued your chapter. You could feel his eyes looking your way, and smiled internally. You loved the way he just watched you when he thought you couldn't see.

The way your legs hung over the chair, blanket covering your lower half. He smiled, remembering the day you met at the aftershow party for his latest play in Dublin. He was hesitate to go, but the director had convinced him. You were the director, Enda Walsh's niece, and you'd gone along to support your uncle's latest stage production. You knew who Cillian was of course, not that it bothered you. Working as a stagehand part time at the theatre in your teens, you'd met plenty of famous people over the years and frankly most of them were arrogant idiots with egos the size of Jupiter. Cillian was different though. Down to earth, sweet, kind, normal. Neither of you particularly looking for love, but sometimes it happens in the most unlikely of places.

Flashback

"Cillian, this my niece y/n. Y/n, this is Cillian, the star of the show!" Enda introduced the two of you and Cillian smiled, leaning forward to embrace you softly and kiss your cheek.

"I've heard so much about you y/n, nice to put a face to the name." You couldn't help but feel butterflies looking into those blue eyes, and without you realising at the time, Cillian felt exactly the same about yours. You'd spent most of the evening from that point talking about the theatre and what you each loved about it - from the lighting and production side to the audience reactions during the live show itself. You'd seen Cillian in the show three times, you'd been mesmerised by his performance, but this was the first time you'd met him.

The music changed as the night was drawing to a close. A slower number, and the other cast members and production team all took their respective partners to the dance floor. You were both now sat pretty much alone - clearly the only single people in the room!

"Would you like to dance?" Cillian asked, sheepishly. It suddenly felt a little awkward. You looked at him surprised, but found yourself nodding as he offered you his hand and led you to the dance floor. You could feel your uncle's stare as Cillian placed one hand on your waist and took your hand with his other, both of you gently swaying to the music. He was a smooth dancer, never missing a step. No toes clashing together, and the awkwardness melted away as you looked into each others eyes. The rest of the room suddenly becoming an afterthought.

"I've really enjoyed talking to you tonight y/n."

"Me too, you're not like the other actors. You're... Normal!" You giggled lightly.

"I'm boring, you mean?" He laughed in response, you could feel his fingers caressing your waist softly as you continued to sway.

"How'd you feel about dinner one night? We can talk more about how boring we both are?" That smile again.

"You're on. He pulled you a little closer, your cheeks inches apart. He desperately wanted to kiss you there and then but with your uncle a mere few feet away he didn't dare. He knew you were 28 to his 40, and he wasn't sure how his friend would react to it.

"You two seemed to be getting on well?" Enda approached you after the party, and he couldn't help but notice the glow around you after your dance with Cillian. He'd gone to the bathroom.

"He's a nice guy Uncle E, we have a lot in common."

"You know he's 40, and has two kids, right?"

"Uncle -"

"Cillian! So you're taking my niece out for dinner are you?" He returned from the men's room and froze.

"Um.. I..."

"I'm kidding... God you're too easy to wind up!! Have fun!!" Both of you audibly sighed in relief.

"He's an ass..." You smiled as Cillian offered you his arm to link into.

"I have a car outside, I'll drop you home?" You nodded, taking his arm.

You both sat in the back, the driver being given your home address as Cillian pushed the visor up between the driver and you. Privacy. He took your hand, leaning back and kissed the back of it gently. You smiled - your first kiss, but not where you wanted it.

"He can't see us, right?" You asked. He nodded and pulled you closer to him. "So..." Leaning toward you slowly, he gently ran a thumb over your cheek and pressed his lips to yours. You returned the kiss. His mouth opening slightly to gain access to yours, your tongues soon met. It quickly became heated before Cillian pulled away.

"You wanna go home?"

"You want me to go home?"

"Nope."

"Then I'm not going home." Cillian pulled the visor down and told him you were both going back to his house instead before pulling you back against his lips.

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

The memories of that first night were as clear as if it had happened only yesterday, not two years ago. It was so good that you both often got yourselves off to the thought of it when Cillian was away working. Two years on and your lives were simply idyllic.

He made his way over to you in the chair and kneeled down next to you, running a hand under your summer dress and squeezing your thigh.

"You know, I've been thinking..." He leaned closer to your ear, making you squirm. He knew the effect his voice had on you and he played on it daily.

"Dangerous..." You smirked, and he responded by tracing kisses up your back, his hand still teasing under your dress, over your now damp underwear.

"All this house.. and just the two of us.. seems a waste, don't you think?" His fingers gently moving your panties aside and slipping between your folds. Instinctively you opened your legs, granting him access.

"Hmmm....." Your hips rising slightly to meet his fingers. "Are you saying you want a dog, Cillian.."

"Funny, y/n... No.." his fingers were torturing you, caressing everywhere except where you needed him to be.

"Wanna fill me with your baby do you daddy?"

"Hmm.. call me that again..." He smiled, his erection now painfully pushing against his jeans as he dipped a finger inside you.

"Do we have a Daddy Kink, Cillian? Does making me full of your baby turn you on?" You tried to retain composure as a second finger entered you, his hand now pushing them in and out slowly.

"Fuck... Stand up." He ordered and he immediately pulled the dress over your head and your underwear down. Swiftly followed by his own clothing, before he lay you down on the sofa.

"Guess we won't be needing a condom for this then... Fuck me daddy - give me a baby..."

"Coming right up..." He kneeled back down next to you and parted your perfect legs, before sinking two fingers back inside, rubbing your clit with his thumb. It wasn't long before you were writhing under his touch, calling his name as you came hard against his hand. He moved over you, quickly turning you over so your pert behind was up in the air and you were gripping the arm of the sofa in hot anticipation. He pushed inside, feeling you for the first time without a barrier - no other contraception had suited you, so you'd stuck with condoms - and he groaned as he filled you completely.

"Jesus... God yes.. right there Daddy...." He picked up the pace at your words, thrusting into you like a man possessed.

"Fuck this is tight baby... I'm not gonna last long like this..."

"Fill me up Daddy.. make me pregnant.. give me your baby..." He couldn't hold back after that, and came hard, filling you and sending you into your second orgasm. Breathing heavy, he stayed in until he was completely spent - not daring to waste a drop.

"Lay on your back y/n... Legs in the air.." you did as he asked, confused. "Helps the whole process apparently."

"So you meant it then?" You smiled as he knelt beside you again, swirling a hand over your belly.

"What, that I want to see the love of my life's body swell with my baby inside? Damn right I meant it y/n.. nothing would make me happier than a baby with you." You were grinning now, as he leaned in to kiss you.

"Love you Cill."

"Love you more mama." The sound of him calling you that made your heart swell. You couldn't wait to hear your baby call it you too.

[spotofimagines]

No Longer A Secret ~ Isaiah Jesus

A/N: A year later, here’s part 3. I think I’ll make this the last part because it took a lot out of me tbh. I hope you enjoy it!

Requested by: a bunch of you a while ago (sorry for the wait!) [ tagging: @anyasthoughts​ ]

Warnings: pregnancy, family fighting

Summary: Isaiah held up his end of the bargain, now you’ve got to do your part and finally tell your family your secret.

Part 1(Keeping A Secret) - Part 2(Unveiling A Secret)

gif by @pvkyblinders​

More had changed for you in the past few weeks than you thought possible. Being a Shelby meant you were used to drastic change pretty often, but you, along with Finn, were usually the last of your siblings to know what was going on, being kept in the dark for as long as possible.

Being on the other side of the fence this time and having to tell your family this information was filling you with a lot of dread, especially when it came to Arthur. He was volatile with regular news at times, so how bad was he going to be when he heard that the little sister he protects with his life is not only pregnant and engaged but that you stole money so you could hide it from him?

Walking into the Shelby household had never felt so tense. The hallway so small. The dark walls so imposing. Isaiah's gentle touch on your waist made you jump a little bit as you were so trapped in your fear. "You alright, babe?" He uttered in your ear, truthfully knowing the answer would be no but needing some reassurance before you both faced your family. You didn’t answer him, struggling for once to cover how you felt with a lie, but luckily you didn’t need to; with Isaiah, you never really have.

Slowly moving through the house, you shouted out a hello and heard Tommy's voice reply from the kitchen. You were about to make your way to them when the hand you reached out behind you met thin air. Peering over your shoulder in search of the rock you need in Isaiah, he came just in time out of the living room, Finn two steps behind him and tucking an empty tube of tokyo in his inside pocket. You shared a silent greeting through a smile - weak on your side from nervousness and sheepish on his side from being caught - before grabbing Isaiah's hand and carrying on into the kitchen.

The first sight you were graced with was Tommy's frown as he lit a cigarette, nodding his head to you when you entered the room, his frown dissipating when he leant back against the counter and the smoke left his mouth. A stressful morning with business was the last thing you wanted. Everyone’s emotions would be heightened and their tethers near breaking point. The breath in your lungs almost got caught in your throat just at the thought.

But Arthur's voice filled the room before it could. "Y/N, Isaiah, y'alright?" He asked loudly, walking through the room to give an envelope to Tommy, and the cheerful tones told you maybe the stress was on Tommy's shoulders only. You hummed in response, not quite brave enough to open your mouth yet.

Finn nudging past your shoulder by mistake kept you alert to your surroundings as Isaiah went to give a quick greeting to Michael, who sat reading the newspaper with a cup of tea at the table, before pouring some tea for himself. "Watch out would ya," Arthur spoke, shoving Finn playfully to the side, Finn getting out of the way and sitting at the table with a grumble, wiping his nose a bit, "bloody boy." Arthur muttered to himself, his usual temper present but masterfully pushed down, before locking eyes with you still stood in the doorway.

"Y'alright love?" He asked, stopping in his tracks to make sure things were okay. You darted out of your thoughts to look at your brother properly. "Hm? Yeah. Can you stay here a minute though?" You responded, averting your eyes and turning toward everyone else.

Missing the way Arthur shrugged his hands and ventured back to the table, leaning his hands on the back of the last spare chair, you took a breath and steadied yourself.

A quiet rolled over the small room when you picked a slip of paper out of your purse, unfolded it and put it on the table, right under Arthur’s nose for him to read.

A cheque. The first cheque he’s ever seen signed off with your name. A cheque disclosing the exact amount that disappeared from the vault a month ago.

Arthur frowned up at you confused before moving to pick it up himself. “What’s this then?” He asked, looking around at the others for a bit of a clue but finding no help. Tommy rifled through the envelope he’d been given. Michael cast a glance at the cheque then went back to finishing his article. Finn sat scratching his head, keeping himself out of the conversation like he was used to, not that he’d be that much help to Arthur anyway.

When Arthur met your eyes again, you took a deep breath. “The money, from the vault. I’m giving it back.” Arthur’s eyes shot wide, surprised you had been the culprit of the incident (he’d had his eyes on a young blinder he was certain was responsible for a week now).

“You took it? How come?” He frowned again as he asked the question. This one was a little harder to answer. Not only were Arthur’s eyes on you, but Finn was watching you precariously and Michael had let the newspaper in his hand drop on his lap to focus on you too.

You didn’t dare look at Michael, knowing his gaze would stare straight through you and make you crumble under pressure. This money theft had been weighing heavily in the back of Michael’s mind so he wasn’t going to let the answer go without scathe.

“To go to the doctors. I didn’t have my own money to use.” You quickly added, wanting to justify your actions before they could blame you unfairly.

“The doctors?” Arthur repeated, looking over at Tommy again who was still reading through his letter. “What you going the doctor’s for? You’re alright, ain’t you? Nothing wrong?” He spoke, dismissing the reason and not believing you’d have a serious issue without him knowing first.

And that panicked you. Your heart speeding up already. There was something up, something that couldn’t be dismissed, something very well worth seeing the doctor for.

However, a second long glance at Isaiah calmed you down. He stood behind Arthur, porcelain cup of tea in one hand, the other tucked comfortably in his pant pocket. He wasn’t preparing for a fight at all, so why should you? One small subtle nod from him and you knew you’d be fine to speak, regardless of the outcome. He’d be there, Tommy would be there, you wouldn’t find a better chance to say it than now.

“Because I'm pregnant.” The words came out as feebly as you thought they would as you peered down at you feet. Arthur’s eyebrows raised in shock before clearing his throat with a cough that stopped the room from being silent.

“What?” His voice gravelled out of his chest. You looked up to meet his gaze, unnerving and unwavering, daring you to repeat the words he thought he heard the first time.

The movement of Isaiah putting his cup down on the counter had you squaring your shoulders a little. It was a change Tommy didn’t miss when he glanced up after the quiet lack of response, causing him to put the papers in his coat pocket for later.

You repeated yourself, louder this time, more assured despite the clear indifference Arthur's eyes held.

Smoke trailed out of Michael's mouth as he sat up straight in his chair, the cloud dissolving into nothing whilst he folded his newspaper up. Finn didn’t move, quickly inspecting the reactions of Tommy and Arthur before even thinking of speaking up.

Tommy stood still reclined against the counter, cigarette burning between his fingers as he kept his eyes on Arthur and on the door behind you in equal parts, making sure he was prepared for anything that might happen but refraining from acting on it yet.

Arthur’s hand tightened on the back of the wooden chair and his fixed look didn’t let up. He was angry, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on the reason why. Maybe it was because his sweet little sister wasn’t that anymore. Maybe it was because he’d let Isaiah recklessly get his hands on you. Maybe it was because you were young and silly and not ready for this in the slightest. Maybe it was because you hid it from him, and even went as far as stealing, right from the pocket of your family, to stop him from knowing. All of it was hitting him like a dagger in the chest.

His eyes hadn’t left yours before his gruff voice broke the silence again. “Y/N, you better tell me you’re joking now or I swear...” He spoke quietly and your chest shook as you breathed, your lungs tight from nervousness but your shoulders held strong. You weren’t backing down from him, no matter how much your hands trembled.

You shook your head at your brother. “I'm not playing. I'm having a baby, with Isaiah, and I'm keeping it.” Arthur’s eyebrows moved up and down quickly as he sighed out in order to keep his words down. He turned his head toward Tommy, whose face was stoic, not telling Arthur anything at all as he smoked. Arthur’s teeth clenched when he turned back to you, annoyed at the lack of backup from his brother and unsure where to start with his sister.

“You can’t be having a baby, Y/N,” Arthur's voice the only noise in the crowded room. “And why’s that?” You challenged him, his knuckles almost turning white against the chair. Finn's hands fidgeted with the cap on his lap, not wanting to be in the middle of this but not able to escape.

“Really? Well,” he huffed as he stood straight, fingers finally releasing the wooden seat, “you don’t have your own house, you have no cash, you can’t even look after yourself Y/N you’re too young for this!” He listed off the reasons on his hand, voice getting louder with each word that came out.

You put your hands on your hips, frustration mixing with the need to defend yourself as you matched Arthur’s level with your retort. “This is no different to John when he had Martha on her second kid at this age.”

Arthur waved his hand and shook his head. “That’s very different Y/N-"

“How is this different? Why is this any different at al-"

“It just is!” He shouted, slamming a hand on the table between you. You instantly jumped back at the sudden outburst, the boys both flinching too with Michael taking his elbow off the table and Finn scuffing his chair back a bit.

Isaiah stood firmly in his space now and toyed with the cuffs of his jacket to refrain himself from action. Another movement Tommy observed and he internally rolled his eyes at it. Isaiah knew well that this was your time and your situation to control, and that you needed to deal with your brothers in your own way for your own sake. A fight would help nothing right now.

“And before you’re married? Y/N, you aren’t even married for Christ’s sake!”

“You think I'm not married, do you?” You snapped, stopping Arthur from his inching closer and closer over the table top. Tommy’s head shot up in your direction and you could have sworn you found confusion on Arthur’s face before a second later, his and everyone else's attention was drawn away.

Polly opened the double doors from the shop to step through into the kitchen, shutting them behind her. "What in god’s name is going on in here? You're shouting the fucking street down." She chastises through her teeth with a scornful look sent Arthur's way. Neither you nor Arthur dropped your angry stares until Polly's demand of an answer had Arthur stepping away.

"Well," Arthur says, tension in every sound as he walked around the table to Polly's side, "it seems our darling angel girl has gone and got herself up the duff, hasn't she?" He said with bitterness in his words but a thankfully lowered voice as he shot his hand toward you. Polly met your gaze, concerned about the tears that lined your eyes but saying nothing about it yet.

"And that's just so terrible for you, is it?" You spite back, not giving Polly a chance to intervene. You guessed she'd be just as mad as Arthur for you being so silly and reckless, and you needed to fight for this on your own. To Arthur’s point, you had to look after yourself. If not now, when?

However, it isn't the news that's got her concerned, it's the venom in Arthur's words.

"You're not even married Y/N!” He continued his former point, “What are people gonna thin-"

"Well I am getting bloody married aren't I!" You interrupted, throwing your hands up in the anger that's finally caught up with you. Tommy raises his eyebrows questioningly as he keeps watching your movements, a quiet washing over the room again as the boys sat at the table wait for what's coming next.

"I'm engaged," You hold your hand up, your ring glinting in the light, "because Isaiah proposed to me, because he loves me," you drop your hand back to your side in defeat, "more than I can say for some..."

Tommy and Isaiah share a small glance before Isaiah turned to watch you again, leaving that conversation for later, or hopefully never.

After a moment of silent eye contact between you and Arthur, as his chest moved up and down with heavy breaths, he sighed and let his hands drop too.

“You think I don’t love you?” He uttered, “hm?” When he received only silence from you, faced with watching you stare at your feet to avoid him, he almost felt sick.

Everything he does is to protect you, to protect all the people he loves. Even now, as he’s in a blazing shouting match with you, it’s not because he’s angry - no, not truly - but because he’s scared you won’t be okay. Scared that you’re becoming something different to the little girl he practically helped raise. Scared you’ll be going into a world where he can’t protect you anymore.

He can deal with fighting and shouting, but he could never live with himself if you thought he felt anything but love for you.

His breath got caught in his throat and he could sense Polly's eyes burning a hole through his skull. Swallowing his pride, he tentatively asked, “Are you happy?”

“More than ever.” You immediately replied to his sincere-as-possible question.

He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, subtly meeting Tommy's eye across the room - who doesn't move an inch - then walked around the table with his arms out wide, inviting you to him.

He hugged you tightly and you felt his shaky hands settle on your back. “Then how mad can I be?” He muttered and a small smile etched onto your face, eyes squeezing closed which made the tears you’d been holding finally roll down your cheeks. All the strength you feigned left you as you hugged him back, thankful for your brother’s arms to be holding you up like normal.

With Arthur’s acceptance and lack of Tommy’s protest, Finn stood to his feet and as Arthur held your face, wiping your tears with a loving but faintly nervous smile, Finn made his way to you to give his own congratulatory hug.

Arthur took a second, watching his younger siblings before scanning the room to get his bearings again. And he went straight to Isaiah, gripping him under his arm and pulling him close, sternly muttering the typical older brother threats in his ear for only him to hear. You missed the words said but by the slightly distant look behind Isaiah’s eyes you quickly got the gist.

Pulling away from your hug with Finn, you met Tommy’s eyes across the room as he still leant unmoved against the counter, extinguishing his cigarette in the ash tray beside him. He sent you a wink and a nod, the corners of his mouth poking up for only you to catch sight of.

“Don’t worry Arthur, of course I will.” The words from your fiancé caused you to turn just in time to see your brother patting Isaiah’s neck before walking away, mumbling about a much-needed drink as he dragged his feet through the shop doors and the usual bustling noise of the building returned.

When Isaiah’s gaze met yours, the sliver of fear in his eyes was completely overshadowed by the confident love he held for you. You sent him a silent apology with your eyes which he dismissed with a shake of his head. He took a few steps toward you and gave you a quick kiss before squeezing you into his familiar tight hug, whispering not to stress about it into your neck. It was enough to stop you falling to pieces right in the middle of the family kitchen.

Isaiah rubbed his hand over your back and pulled his head back up, an inch from giving you a quick peck on the lips when his shoulders shot up with a hiss. He quickly turned his head with an angry scowl that instantly vanished at the sight of Polly. She tilted her head to the side, getting Isaiah to take his hands off you without a word. Isaiah left the two of you to yourselves to avoid the wrath of your aunt and went to join Michael across the room, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked.

Polly smirked at your shocked face and it grew when your surprise turned into a slight shocked laugh, shaking your head bemused at her actions. She held a cup of tea out for you and you took a step closer to her. Part of you was still wary of what she'll have to say about your pregnancy, but part of you was also comforted by her presence, knowing she'll never let your brothers step too far out of line with you.

"Are you mad?" You asked cautiously, never wanting to assume with her. She was pouring another cup of tea as she answered. "I was a little when I first found out, I thought I'd told you more than enough times to be careful," she shot you a nettled look before turning to face you properly, "then I had about two weeks for the idea to grow on me." Once again she smirked at the shock on your face. Of course Polly knew, you hardly had to tell her anything without her figuring it out for herself first.

"You'll be fine dear, he's not the worst." Polly joked sincerely, clinking your cups and taking a gulp before putting it down on the side again. You’d yet to move, stunned into stillness by her revelation, when her hand lay firmly on your small belly. She stared down in thought for a few seconds, her touch a stark contrast to the sharp slap Isaiah felt a moment earlier.

A feeling of relief you'd only ever felt once before - when John shot a bullet that skimmed your leg at 12 years old – had managed to fill your chest, almost enough to overwhelm you were it not for the grounding touch of your Aunt Polly.

You let her process her mystic prediction as you finally moved, sipping your drink and sending a smirk over to Isaiah to match his own.

Polly looked up at you with a smile spreading over her face and joy filling her eyes. “A beautiful baby girl.”

[toko-writing-imagines]

V3 girls reacting to their s/o giving them a bouquet of flowers

This is more so a random idea that popped up in my head but it's a cute idea so why not write it out

Might do the other female casts from the other games if this one is well received (if not I'll still probably do it cus mm,, cute girls)

SDR2 version | THH version

【Kaede Akamatsu】

• Kaede was backstage after finishing up her amazing piano recital

• Since you were obviously her s/o, you were able to go backstage to see her before she went out or when she finished

• So you had the amazing idea to surprise her with a bouquet of flowers once she finished her recital

• And thats just what you did!

• You bought her a bouquet of her favorite flowers with a cute written notecard that said "Another amazing performance by my amazing Ultimate Pianist!"

• She was so happy when you surprised it to her, you have no idea

• She gave you a lot of kisses and when the two of you got home, cuddles!!

• Now the flowers sit beautifully in a colorful vase on top of the dresser in the bedroom, being taken care of everyday

【Kirumi Tojo】

• You decided to surprise her with flowers since Kirumi is always working so hard

• It's pretty easy to tell that being the Ultimate Maid wasn't easy at all

• It was one of those very rare days where Kirumi was able to take a light break and go over everything to see if she just so happened to forget something (she obviously didn't but an excuse is an excuse)

• You saw it as a perfect opportunity to surprise her with the flowers

• When you did show them to her, telling her that she didn't need to work so hard for everyone else and to just take care of herself once in a while, she smiled

• Success!

• She gives you cute peppered kisses as a thank you

• She waters and takes care of them everyday to make sure they never wilt

• Give her more flowers! She loves them a lot and always loves taking care of them

【Himiko Yumeno】

• She needed flowers for one of her magic shows

• So you got her a bouquet of them!

• A very pleased little mage

• She decided to split them up, using the ones needed for her show, and the rest for her hat

• She somehow gets them to stay on her hat without falling so now her mage hat is cutely decorated with the flowers you got her

• In addition, she puts a spell on them so they never ever wilt and stay in perfect condition

• You were glad the flowers weren't real anyways

【Angie Yonaga】

• Ahah! Her s/o strikes again

• You wanted to surprise her with flowers since Angie somehow hit some sort of creator/art block

• She was painting random things on a canvas when you decided to surpise

• She loved the flowers you got her!

• In reward, she gives you a playful kiss and also does a painting of the flowers

• She needed the inspiration, so she was extra happy that her s/o is her muse

• Will gift you the painting since you gifted her both the inspiration and flowers

• Now the painting is hanged up in the bedroom and the flowers sit in a handmade clay pot in Angie's art lab

【Miu Iruma】

• Honestly you didn't have much of a reason to gift her flowers

• You just wanted to do a cute romantic gesture

• You left the flowers on her desk in her lab, with an added bonus of a small box of chocolates

• When she found it, she freaked

• And I mean it when she freaked

• Miu basically ran over to you with blush across her face and gave you so so so many kisses

• Heck she'll probably end up making you some sort of invention

• She slightly sees this as a competition now

• Will probably brag about her golden brain and how she can always top your gifts with her inventions

• You don't take it personally and let her have her fun in this now made up competition to see who can give the best gift

【Maki Harukawa】

• You'll be lucky if you really even get a reaction from her

• Or at least get to see it upfront

• You know Maki is not exactly one for receiving gifts, so giving her a bouquet of flowers was definitely a surprise

• Her reaction to receiving the flowers can go one of two ways:

• One way would be is that she doesn't exactly give you a reaction, thanking you in her slightly monotonous tone, and taking the flowers away

• She'll be blushing though once she starts walking away with the flowers

• The other way would be that she'll already be blushing by the sudden gesture

• All you can hear is a soft stuttered "Thank you" while you look at your now blushing girlfriend

• Will probably gift you something in return either way despite which reaction you do get so don't worry too much ^^

【Tenko Chabashira】

• A huge sucker for gifts!

• She's always showering you with some kind of affection, so why not do the same to her in return?

• And gifting her flowers was a great choice!

• She was a blushing mess when you held them out to her, giving her all kinds of compliments along with it

• Tenko was so happy she felt her energized than before!

• She gave you so many kisses, and with her being a huge cuddlebug, expect tons of cuddle after her training sessions

• She even puts some of the flowers in her hair!! It's like you are always with her now and she looks even more fabulous than before

• No one gets to touch them! Touch the flowers and you'll be down on the floor in pain in a second

• They are special flowers to her, so no one but you and her get to touch the flowers

【Tsumugi Shirogane】

• A lot of fake flowers

• You often gift Tsumugi fake flowers because she'll usually need them for her cosplays

• But that doesn't mean she doesn't appreciate the gesture!

• In return you'll usually get kisses and get to try on her finished cosplay outfit with the flowers if you want too

• Sometimes she'll steal a few and wear them! Most likely just in her hair or incorporate it on her regular outfit

• But when you surprise her with a bouquet of real flowers, it takes her a minute to collect herself

• She turns into a slightly blushing mess and would try her best to take care of them

• The flowers sit in her lab so she can look at them whenever she's working on her cosplays

• But you'll probably get a bigger bouquet of flowers in return from her since its only fair

• And that's what people do in the animes right?

❀•°•═══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═══•°•❀

Yayay I got something done! I wonder how many people will bother reading this since this post is longgg-

Also we are slowly on our way to 100 followers! I'm so happy people like my blog enough to follow it ^^

Please send in requests if you have any! If you want to message it to me instead than please do that, but let me know if you want to stay anon or not!

also totally unrelated but what does it mean to kin someone cus i wanna do kin list for danganronpa but the whole kinning thing confuses me-

~ Mod Toko 💜

[doitwritenow]

Supreme Super family gets sucked up into WandaVision(let's imagine Tony's alive in this or is from the multiverse). Ironstrange think they're married with a high school kid. Tony is a science teacher, strange is town doctor, and peter is a regular kid. No memories of they're real life. Rhody, Pepper, and Aunt May and Morgan could be added to this too if you wanted.

OHHO! Sorry it took me so long to reply to this; I had to finish the show, for one thing, and then my brain started going all sorts of places with the prompt... and well. I have on heck of a ramble coming, so buckle up! 

(Also, spoilers through the series, so watch out!) 

— — —

It starts with a question on Vision’s job application.

That’s all. So simple, so innocuous, so innocent. Vision is casually recording information that he doesn’t yet realize he can’t remember, and he arrives at a line that asks his family history. It’s nothing complex, left on the application only because Wanda’s subconscious had glossed over the question. So does Vision’s, as a result. But he wants this job. They want to fit in, and so they answer the question truthfully.

Vision writes ‘Stark’, unaware. ‘Tony Stark.’

And pop. Just like that. 

On the edge of Westview, there suddenly is and has always been a small, well-kept mechanic’s shop. It’s run by an aging man with a bright mind and a brighter smile. He’s lived here since he came back from the war, but no one knows for how long. And he has no memory—no memory at all—of what came before. 

Of the round scar in the center of his chest. 

He doesn’t need to know. No one needs to know; he’s just a side character, after all. Just the answer to a line on a job application.

Just so that something, anything, about Vision’s life here isn’t a lie. 

-

Yeah, so Tony gets manifested within the Hex—but because he’s one of Wanda’s creations and not someone being mind-controlled, he is able to exist with agency within Westview. He has no reason, however, to believe anything is amiss; he’s been resurrected only to play a character, and his memories and surface-level motivations only extend to the limits of that character.

But Wanda has other regret. Wanda has other anger and understanding and forgiveness and gratefulness, and she knew Tony Stark, once. 

She knew his worst nightmare—and it’s easy to craft a soul from that, really.

(But it’s fine, of course it’s fine. Tony has no reason to pull down the walls of that hidden spirit. He’s content in his role, just like Vision. So it’s fine. 

… Right?) 

-

Agatha stands at the base of a towering barrier with her hands on her hips. One side of her mouth is quirked up into a considering, scheming smile, and her magic probes out around her curiously. This is the source of the power she’d felt; she’s sure of it. The spell work… the instinctual, unconscious spell work is so intense she can almost taste it.

How is it possible? What’s the secret? 

Agatha must know. And besides; this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to her since the seventeenth century. 

She’s about to reach out, about to cross into the heart of the magic, when she hears it. A footstep. Quiet and dark and making no attempt at stealth. 

Agatha grips her magic. “Who’s there?” she demands. 

Someone steps out of the trees. A human, Agatha thinks, though you can never be sure nowadays. He wears a hood of green and his hands are dark where they hang at his sides. 

“Witch,” the figure declares.

Agatha raises an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” says Karl Mordo. “I rather think you can.”

-

Okay, cut to New York. Stephen Strange is exhausted, wrung dry trying to keep the edges of the universe from deteriorating now that the stabilization factors of the Infinity Stones have been destroyed. One task runs into the next, one morning into the night. One future into all the others. 

But Stephen likes the work; it keeps his mind in one place. He’s always alert these days. Always listening. 

So when someone calls out to him from New Jersey, he can hear.

It’s Mordo luring him in, of course, but he doesn’t know that yet. After Dormammu, and certainly after all those futures, Stephen has too much experience for Mordo to hope to get the better of. The old Master is still dedicated to his ‘too many sorcerers’ shebangerang, though, so he’s employed help. Maybe he can kill two birds with one stone. Two world-threateningly powerful magic users with one stone. 

Stephen follows the call, because of course he does. It sounds like a call for help; what else is he supposed to do? The kelpie situation in the Thames can wait. Wong waves him off, tells him to be careful without much hope of Stephen listening, and takes over the Sanctum for the few hours Stephen intends to be gone.

(It’s not for a few hours.)

-

But there’s someone else we should mention before we see what Westview has planned for Stephen. See, a certain spider-kid has just had his identity outed, and his only allies once called themselves Nick Fury and Maria Hill.

Nick Fury and Maria Hill, Peter discovers, are not Nick Fury and Maria Hill.

“You’re aliens?” Peter demands, his hands warding the space in front of him. 

Of course they’re aliens, part of him sighs. Of course. Why wouldn’t one more thing just go crazy in his life? Why let him remember what ‘normal’ even felt like? Why the hell not? 

“Er, yes,” says not-Fury. “My name is Talos. But we do still want to help you.”

Helping Peter doesn’t go according to plan. See, the Skrull try to approach SWORD for Monica Rambaeu’s help regarding the kid who saved their lives, but Monica has disappeared. 

Talos only turns around for two seconds. Really, it’s only a moment. But when he turns back, Peter Parker has disappeared, too.

-

“Woah.” 

Stephen stops, a hand coming up to shield his third eye as he squints into the absolute maelstrom of power swirling in a hexagonal wall in front of him. It doesn’t feel like the Order’s magic—not like something of the Mystic Arts. It’s something far more human and gritty. Stephen’s perception can’t extend through it. He frowns.

He takes a step forward, the Cloak swirling around his ankles, and begins to stitch his mental walls into place. His wards are strong, even unconsciously.

That’s probably what saves him, in all honesty. 

Two strong, human hands plant themselves in the small of Stephen’s back and shove him into the barrier. Stephen opens his mouth to yell, raises his hands to cast a spell— but blue and red are surrounding him now. Devouring him, now. They lick at his mind, slamming against unbreakable walls.

But they are unbreakable too. 

Stephen disappears. 

-

(Mordo used a portal to get behind him and knock him into the Hex, btw.) 

It’s those hasty mental walls that keep Stephen from being completely consumed into the Westview spells. He is not fully mind-controlled, nor is he left half-animated and frozen like most people near Ellis Avenue. But there is one main rule of Wanda Maximoff’s Westview, and that, Stephen can’t escape completely. 

‘No one remembers outside.’

Stephen doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t remember anything at all. 

-

Tony Stark finds the man lying on the side of the road. He’s just finished dropping his kid Peter off at the Westview high school (it hasn’t occurred to him that it’s weird how he never sees the boy’s classmates. Or that Peter never seems to have stories from school. Or that the kid is always waiting in the exact same place that Tony dropped him off at whenever Tony comes to pick him up. Tony has no reason to think too hard; he’s just a side character—right?). 

“Uh, hi?” Tony pauses, the car puffing it’s irritation when he stops it too quickly. He cranks down the window and leans out. 

The man blinks, slowly, at the sky. He sits up hesitantly, like he hasn’t noticed Tony, and rubs his hand across his face. He pulls it away after a moment and frowns at it. Tony wonders why he looks so confused—it’s not like there’s anything wrong with the man’s hand. No scars or anything. 

“Hi, sir,” Tony says again. “Are you alright?”

The man jumps. He looks over at Tony—and there’s something weird about his eyes. Something… really weird. (Color, says a voice in the back of his mind that he hasn’t heard for a very, very long time. That’s color.)

“Who are you?” Tony asks. He parks the car completely now. 

The man looks down at his hands again. “I’m—” he begins. He’s frowning again.

“Come on now,” Tony encourages. “How hard can it be?”

The man tugs at the scarf around his neck—and it must be windier than Tony thought, because the edges of it are swaying as if of their own accord— and swallows. 

“I don’t know,” he says.

-

So of course Tony brings Stephen back with him. He prods at the man until Stephen manages to blurt out ‘Doctor Stephen Strange’ for no reason either of them can remember. But it makes Stephen relax, a little, to have it on his tongue. 

Tony catches Stephen staring at him after that. A lot. When he asks him why, Stephen has no clear answer; just a vague “you remind me of someone.” For Stephen’s part, all he knows is that seeing Tony gives him an indistinct sense of relief. Like he’d been missing someone deeply, and has now found it again. 

Still. He can’t quite put his finger on it. Just like he can’t quite put his finger on why his hands don’t hurt when he tries to write…

-

Vision visits Tony, sometimes, whenever he remembers, or whenever someone in the town mentions the old mechanic. He brings Wanda. They have fun, but Vision always goes home feeling slightly baffled. And Tony always feels like something hurts, deep in the center of his chest. 

Vision likes his adopted younger brother. (And Peter gets along just fine with the twins, too, when they come along, so Wanda doesn’t change anything about it). But when the man with the bright eyes stares at him with just a bit too much calculation on his face, Vision starts to be reminded of… things. Of suspicions. Of Geraldine and how she had no home and no history. And he doesn’t quite look Wanda in the eye that dinner. 

“What do you do?” Wanda asks, her voice a little hard, a little suspicious. Vision tries not to wince. Whatever it is she’s not telling him, this man at his father’s dinner table reminds her of it. 

Tony flips his fork, balancing it like one might a wrench. “Stephen’s a doctor,” he says.  

Wanda’s face flickers. “That’s funny,” she says blankly. “Because no one in this town ever needs one.” 

-

For a while, Tony Stark didn’t see anything amiss here. He was created, was consistent, was emptily and vaguely pleased. But Tony Stark is Tony Stark, whatever character he’s been told to play. Tony Stark wants to help people. 

And this man, this strange doctor with the eyes that would sometimes go blank for long minutes and the tears that would stain sharp cheeks for a reason he claimed not to remember, needs help.

So Tony Stark begins to scratch at Wanda’s walls. 

-

 “What do you mean he’s here?”

“I mean your little plan didn’t work,” Agatha says. She stands on the edge of Westview, speaking through a mirror of magic to the man outside. She’s liking this sorcerer less and less the more she works with him—but he has been rather helpful so far, so she continues to put up with him. 

“Does he remember?”

“No,” Agatha says. “The dad that Wanda made up for Vision has taken him in. It’s kind of adorable, actually.”

“Hm.” Mordo’s mouth twists. “You’ll finish the job?”

Agatha shrugs nonchalantly. “Sure. When I get around to it.”

“You don’t want to wait. Deal with Strange now, before he remembers how to be a threat.”

Agatha laughs. It’s brittle, fully conveying her hostility. “Ha, my good sorcerer, listen. Unless you want to come in here and do the job yourself, you’ll let me handle this my way.”

Agatha’s way involves getting to the bottom of things, of course. And that’s rather convenient… because Vision has begun to try to do the same thing. 

— — — —

Okay that’s all I have for now? The other bits are still solidifying in my mind, and it’s basically all Horrible Angst. I hope this scratches a little of the itch of your ask, though! Feel free, anyone, to add onto this if you’d like! I really enjoyed the show, and I think it has some really awesome AU potential. 

Thanks for the ask!!!