#they’re a little family and I love them

[pinkpastelcalesti]

It’s so hard to explain to people how rude Atrium health in NC is. They are absolutely fucking ruthless and I hate them for everything they’re worth.

Let me talk a little bit about it.

TW: family loss, death, grief, cancer, discussion of end of life care and hospice, mentions of prior family loss by suicide.

My grandma, one of the most important women and family in my life, passed from Mesothelioma back in April 2022. She received a lot of treatment of which she’d paid off herself, except for around ~6k in expenses for end of life care (hospice/at home nursing).

She was diagnosed in November 2021, and my mom quit her job to take care of her and be there for her as it was her only parent still alive at the time; my grandfather had committed suicide back in 2014. This was already hard enough for my mom but seeing her mom sick, after what she had already been through with her dad, on top of other personal matters, was a lot. It was tough. She cried so much.

She only had her mom and her sister, plus her sister’s family left. Alongside her father passing, my mom had lost her eldest sister in January 2019 from stage 4 breast cancer.

My mom and aunt were there with my grandma in her final hours. Her death was peaceful, with music, scripture being read (my grandmother was Christian; a person of the church), soft lighting, everything. She passed in her home, surrounded by the people she loved, because she asked to have it that way. My grandma hated hospitals. It brought back too many memories she didn’t want to remind herself of.

My mom still grieves her endlessly. She loved her mother with everything she had in her.

I loved that woman endlessly. I can’t even begin to describe how wonderful knowing her all my life until the moment she passed was.

I’m building this context up so anyone reading can understand the pain and grief that comes with such a loss.

After calling hospice and having to witness her mother be placed in a body bag, already traumatized enough, my mother came home at 3 am and all but passed out in the quiet; we had only grieved for hours at this point.

In the morning, amidst my mother’s anguish of losing her mom, do you want to know who called us?

Was it my extended family? No.

Was it a family friend? No.

It was atrium health. It was fucking atrium health.

They called my mother, who had not even had a day to process her emotions, and asked her if my grandmother would be paying her remaining medical bills. Six thousand dollars. Not 25 thousand, or 100 thousand. No. Six thousand dollars. And they called my mom as if they needed that money right then and there.

My mother’s response was a heartbroken sigh of, “my mother died at 11 pm last night. You’re calling me about her medical bills and she hasn’t even been gone one day.”

They had in fact placed a lien on my grandmother’s house to receive that last payment when they sold the home a few months after her passing.

Luigi Mangione is the people’s hero. Let it all burn. They do not care if we live or die, suffer or go peacefully, fight or give up. They don’t care.

Sincerely, fuck US healthcare.

Such timing.

Goes to show the insurance companies don't need the money.

[ak319]

Dark A.M x fem!reader

-- ★ The Word of Claim ┃ ─𝐏���𝐫𝐭 𝟑─

Warnings/MDNI: forced marriage, manhandling, drinking, violence, abuse // I don't condone/romanticize such behaviour irl! +++ Jus' a reminder that Arthur is 27 (yeh, not 30's) in this and reader is 22. ✰ 8.3K

★ Prev I concept m.list

The maid, busy fussing with your hair, cast a wary glance at Doreen, who stood silently to the side. Her expression seemed to plead, "Help me out here," prompting the older woman to step forward and place a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"(Y/N)... relax. You're going to claw that necklace off before the wedding," Doreen said, her gentle jab snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts.

You blinked, shaking off the anxiety that had gripped you. "Yeah, sorry. First time getting married, so..."

The two women chuckled with you, their laughter lightening the mood. Together, they helped you descend the grand staircase to the drawing room, where your parents waited. The wedding itself was to take place in the backyard, a picturesque setting that had been painstakingly prepared for the occasion.

As you entered, you were immediately enveloped in tearful hugs from both your mother and father, happy tears that warmed your heart despite your nerves.

Once the initial greetings were exchanged, you found yourself seated in a secluded room alongside your parents and brother. The air was filled with polite conversation and gentle pleasantries as you all waited for Omar's family to arrive.

"Shouldn't his brothers be here by now? They said they would come early," your mother asked, her tone tinged with mild concern.

Your father hummed thoughtfully before responding, "Love, you know how rocky the roads are. Considering they’re probably coming in a carriage, it might take time. I think they’re all coming together now, with Omar, so, when they do, I’ll take them straight to the yard. (Y/N), you stay here until I come to get you back, alright?"

"Okay, okay, I know. You’ve already told me the steps a million times," you replied with a small grin.

He chuckled and pulled you into a warm embrace. "You look pretty calm. I’m so proud of you."

You melted against him with a laugh. "I’m trembling inside, Dad."

"I’m sure you are. But that’s natural. No worries, alright?" Just then Suki jumped into you lap and you immediately hugged her.

"Did you pack Suki’s bag, Mama-"

"Yes, of course." your mother interjected with a fond smile. "Everything’s packed for her too. I feel like I’m sending away two daughters."

The room burst into laughter, the shared warmth easing some of the tension. But then your brother, Rayan, spoke up, his tone a little less cheerful.

"You’re going to visit, right, sis?"

Your heart broke at the sight of his forlorn expression. You reached out, pulling him closer so that he stood right in front of you.

"Of course, I will," you assured him gently. "I am not going that far. And you’re going to visit me too, alright? In fact, I’ll still be working with Dad in the office, so you can always come to meet me there too. Okay?"

He nodded reluctantly before placing a kiss on your cheek, which earned him two from you in return.

The clock ticked steadily, but Omar and his family’s absence was a glaring omission.

Where are they? you wondered, glancing toward the windows, where the hum of conversation and music from the garden seeped into the room. The guests outside seemed unaware of the creeping tension inside.

Your father, who had been deep in conversation with a relative, was suddenly approached by a servant. You caught the subtle shift in his expression concern etched into his features. Rising quickly, you gathered your flowing apparel and approached, frustration evident in your voice.

“What is it?” you demanded.

“There’s-” the servant began, but before he could finish, gunshots shattered the air, echoing from the front yard.

Screams erupted outside, freezing the room into silence for a split second before chaos broke loose. Your mother, standing by the window, gasped sharply and clutched at her chest. “Gunshots? Oh my God! What’s happening?”

“Stay here! Don’t move!” your father ordered, already making his way toward the door.

“(F/N), stop him!” your mother pleaded, panic coloring her voice. “What’s going on out there?”

Your father ignored her, his focus entirely on the source of the disturbance.

But you stepped forward, heart pounding. “I’m coming with you!”

“No, (Y/N), stay here,” your father snapped, his tone firm as he turned to block your path. “It could be dangerous!”

“I need to know what’s happening!” you protested, trying to push past him.

“Stay here with your mother-” You followed him nonetheless , staying behind him. , ignoring everyone's shouts of protest. “(Y/N)! Stop! Come back here!”

The sight in the front veranda that greeted you stole the air from your lungs. The commotion was loud and chaotic: servants whispering in horror, guests craning their necks to catch a glimpse, and there in the center of it all…...

It wasn't your in laws who came. Though Omar...

“OMAR!” Your scream tore through the air before you could stop it.

Omar.

Beaten.

Tied.

On a horse.

Arthur’s horse.

Then he was thrown like a sack in the center in a mocking way as in..

'Here, your fucking groom's here...'

Your Dad immediately held you protectively to stop you from going near the boy, his own eyes betraying the fear and shock. The guards had been shot. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU ALL DOING?! WHY?! Get the fuck inside (Y/N), (M/N) take her!" But your feet wouldn't move.

“Seems like there’s going to be  a change of plans folks.” Dutch’s voice rang out from behind Arthur, his eyes hidden by his hat. Not only Dutch had come, but Bill and Charles too. After all, according to tradition, a man must bring his friends or brothers to stand by him.

“ARTHUR!? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!? OMAR! OMAR! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?” You could still see some strength in Omar’ s body as he was writhing, barely recognizable, the suit you had brought together was in such....bloodied and ruined condition that alone made your throat choke.

But Arthur...Arthur didn’t listen and then in one swift motion, standing at the center wasted no more time in doing what he came for. No….he can’t …he can’t be possibly thinking of doing-

"No!...Arthur! DON'T! Please-" Your plea went ignored.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

"(Y/N)...(L/N)."

“N-no... don't- yo-u animal-" Omar choked out, every fiber of his being fighting to rise up, to somehow break free from the agony , the restraints and face the men who dared to do this to you. On their wedding. He was consumed with the desperate urge to protect you, to stop this madness.

Arthur's cold eyes narrowed, a dangerous smirk curling at the corners of his lips. "Say that again," he taunted, voice low and menacing.

"Let... her go... she's- she doesn't deserve a- pathetic man like you...you sc-um." Omar’s words were strained, each one a battle against the pain and exhaustion coursing through his body.

Without hesitation, Arthur raised his gun and fired three quick shots, striking Omar in the chest. The sound of the bullets ringing through the air was followed by screams, yours, Omar’s, and the terrified gasps of the servants hidden in corners.

"NO! YOU MANIAC!” you growled, fury flooding your veins as you watched your fiancé writhe in pain. Your words made Arthur’s eyes burn with more fury, the mocking smile fading into something darker as he aimed the gun at Omar again, this time his head, ready to finish what he’d started.

What a pathetic sight anyway.

But before he could fire, Dutch stepped in, moving swiftly to grab Arthur’s arm, halting him mid-motion.

“This is your special day,” Dutch said, his voice laced with something almost amused. “Let him live. You won anyway.”

Arthur’s rage flared up, his grip tightening around the gun as he glared at Dutch, not wavering from his stance.

"Don’t make me repeat myself, boy. No further blood. I don't think he's going to survive anyway..."

You couldn’t hold back the shout that escaped you, helplessness clawing at your chest. "HOW CAN YOU!? YOU ANIMALS!"

The sight of the other guests scrambling to flee, their faces twisted with fear and confusion, only made your heart sink further. Your father’s face was pale with horror, and your mother trembled beside him, helpless in the face of all this chaos.

“Someone, go help Omar!” (F/N) shouted, his voice hoarse with panic. His eyes locked onto the servants who were still frozen in place, fear paralyzing them. “Now! Do something!”

Your family huddled together, your mother pulling you close. Your younger brother, clung to your father, his face buried in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

Arthur holstered his revolver, his jaw tight, his gaze unwavering as he turned toward you. His eyes softened only slightly, but there was no apology in his demeanor.

Dutch stepped forward, arms outstretched as if to calm the chaos, though his smirk betrayed his amusement. "Well, now, that’s one way to quiet the doubters. Any one else wants to play hero?"

Your father stepped forward, trembling with fury, shielding you and your brother behind him. “You think you can come here, ruin everything, and walk out without consequence? You’ve destroyed her life, her future!”

Dutch chuckled darkly, leaning in close. "Big words for a man who just watched his son-in-law-to-be piss himself. Better watch that temper, old man. I wouldn’t want Arthur to get any more ideas." Dutch continued sauntering a few steps with his hands raised.

"Now, Mister (L/N), I understand this isn’t… ideal. But you know how it is. The world ain’t fair, and sometimes you just have to let things...go. Man to man...years ago, I came to return your girl, didn’t I? Found her lost, scared... vulnerable. And I handed her back with no strings attached. Out of respect. Now, we have come to take her....with respect. And you damn well know that even if the law gets here, they won’t care about this. It’s only a crime on paper… in reality, the sheriffs and marshals? They won’t lift a finger. They don’t give a damn about this"

"HOW CAN YOU DO THIS ARTHUR! ALL OF YOU! I FUCKING TRUSTED YOU!"

"Sweetheart, Arthur’s done the word and by law, well, by our law, that means you are coming with us. However, you wanna go, whether, crying, whining, screaming....but you are gonna go...ain't that right Arthur.”

"Damn right, Dutch."

No...no..wait--this can't be real right? Arthur must be doing some prank.

The pain in your chest was suffocating, and the anger burned so intensely that it almost felt like it would consume you. Your eyes were fixed on Omar's body, alive or lifeless? Being helped and dragged away...

God, let him live.

“No! I won’t go! I fucking won't!” You screamed, the words escaping through a mix of sobs and sheer frustration. “You can’t make me! Yo-u are playing--Dad--I know he's pranking me! I know it! He won't do this--right? You won't do this Arthur, say it!”

“Stay where you are!” your father shouted, positioning himself in front of you protectively. But Arthur barely acknowledged him. His focus was solely on you.

You stumbled back further, the suffocating anger now laced with raw terror. Your parents clung to you, but you wrenched free, the heat of Arthur’s presence pressing too close.

“You’re fucked in the head! THIS IS MY LIFE! I CHOOSE WHAT I WANT! NOBODY ELSE! ESPECIALLY YOU! Son of a bitch-” you spat, the words trembling with rage as you turned and ran inside.

Arthur sighed, the sound of his boots growing louder as he followed. Seriously? He easily pushed your family out of the way preventing your father from following after you and entering the house which he knew the layout of vividly. His movements were confident, almost leisurely, as though he had walked these halls a hundred times before. The absence of the guests only made his pursuit easier.

As he ascended the stairs, his hand trailed along the railing, casually tearing down the garlands and decorations that adorned it. They fell to the ground in shredded heaps, symbols of the celebration that had been shattered, just how this life was being torn apart from pieces your life.

Your dress was hitched in your hands as you sprinted through the house. Your lungs burned, but you didn’t stop, not until you reached the study. Slamming the door shut behind you, you locked it with shaking hands and immediately dove for the desk.

'Be smart, be strong. Be calm.'

This isn’t real. They’re bluffing. They have to be. But the glint of Arthur's revolver, his actions, his words and the cold indifference in Dutch’s eyes told you otherwise. This was no...bluff or a friendly prank...

The pounding of Arthur’s boots echoed in the hall, and his voice followed, taunting and casual. “Darlin’, come on out. You can't fight this, it's already done."

Your trembling hands tore through drawers, scattering papers and trinkets in your frantic search. "Die, die, die...fuck-"you muttered, barely audible over the sound of your ragged breaths. Finally, your fingers brushed against the cold metal.

“YOU BETTER GET OUT OF OUR HOUSE, ARTHUR! YOU ASSHOLE!” you screamed, your voice hoarse with anger and fear. He merely laughed. "Really? Or what , darlin'?" Without thinking, you raised the gun, aimed toward the sound, and fired.

The first shot made Arthur grunt in surprise.

BANG!

Two more shots followed as the door shook violently under your relentless assault.

"....You done, darlin'?" Arthur’s voice rasped, still calm , edged with a dark amusement.

"DON'T FUCKING CALL ME THAT!"

You fired again, the bullet tearing through the wood. Your hands were shaking now, your breathing ragged. The final shot left the chamber, leaving the air heavy with the acrid smell of gunpowder.

You fumbled with the revolver, desperate to reload, but your hands trembled too much to work quickly. The sweat not helping at all.

'Don't let him in, don't let him in, (Y/N).'

The door, already weak, now flew off its hinges as he sauntered in. Finally, your shaking fingers managed to slot two bullets into the chamber. You raised the gun again, aiming with what little steadiness you could muster.

"NO! STAY BACK!,” you hissed, voice cracking.

He didn't listen. Like you expected.

BANG!

The bullet hit him, low in the chest, and Arthur staggered, a sharp intake of breath betraying his pain. His hand flew to the wound, blood seeping between his fingers, but his expression didn’t falter

Arthur lunged at you before you could steady your aim, and your finger squeezed the trigger in panic.

The shot went wild, embedding itself into the ceiling as the force of his body crashed into yours. The revolver slipped from your grasp and clattered to the floor. You screamed, your fists lashing out instinctively, one of them connecting with his jaw.

He grunted, stumbling slightly, but it only seemed to fuel his determination. “You’re a little hellcat, aren’t ya?” he growled, wiping at his mouth where a faint smear of blood appeared.

You scrambled backward, desperate to put distance between you and him, but he caught your wrist and yanked you forward with unsettling ease.

"Let me go! ARE YOU MAD ARTHUR!? WHAT'S GOTTEN INTO YOU! PLEASE!" you shouted with tears, twisting and clawing at his arm.

Arthur didn’t flinch. His grip was iron as he forced you down onto the nearest couch, pinning you beneath him. The weight of him pressed into you, making it difficult to breathe as you thrashed against him.

"Keep fightin’, darlin’, "he murmured, "You’re just makin’ this harder on yourself."

Your knee shot up, aiming for his stomach, but he anticipated the move and shifted, pinning your legs down with his own. His hand grabbed your dress, and for a moment, fear twisted into something colder in your chest.

"STOP! DON'T-"

"Be still."

He tore at the hem of your dress, not with the intent to harm, but to rip free a strip of fabric. His fingers staining your apparel as his other hand pressed against the wound in his side, blood staining his shirt and seeping between his fingers.

He worked quickly, wrapping the torn fabric around his torso with surprising efficiency, his hands steady despite the crimson soaking into the makeshift bandage.

Your breath came in sharp gasps as you glared up at him, anger and fear battling in your chest. "You’re sick in the head. ABSOLUTELY SICK! ONLY A COWARD WOULD DO THIS!" you spat, venom lacing your words.

He seized your jaw with such force that your mouth snapped shut, your eyes narrowing into slits under the pressure. Arthur leaned in, his piercing gaze burning into yours with a chilling intensity. "Call me whatever you like, darlin’. It won’t change a damn thing. You’re coming with me. End of story."

With his free hand, he gripped your fingers, his touch rough and unrelenting as he yanked the ring from your hand. The metallic clink as it hit the ground was filled with disdain, as though the very sight of it repulsed him. Without hesitation, he slid a new ring onto your trembling finger.

"You take this off, and you’ll be missing some fingers."

His tone was calm, almost too calm, as if he thrived on your resistance. His sick, cruel revenge for the rejection. This couldn't be the same fucking man....you wrote to, shared light moments, who you felt safe with. He should have been the last man to make you feel this exposed and vulnerable. He was....totally gone now, almost as if possessed.

"You played enough fucking games, now it's my turn."

❀˖°

Meanwhile, downstairs, your parents and Rayan were huddled in the corner, your mother clutching your brother tightly as though her grip alone could shield him from the madness. Your father stood protectively in front of them, every muscle taut, but even he knew one wrong move could be disastrous.

Dutch, however, looked unfazed, seated casually in the loveseat, a cloud of smoke curling from the cigarette dangling between his fingers. His sharp eyes scanned the room, unbothered by the panic that clung to the air like a suffocating fog.

“Charles,” Dutch said, his voice calm yet commanding, “take the boy and Mrs. (L/N) to gather the girl’s necessities.”

Charles hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering toward the stairs before nodding. He motioned for your mother and Rayan to follow, his expression hardening as he led them toward the hallway. Your mother cast a desperate, tear-filled glance at your father before disappearing with your brother.

As the door shut behind them, Dutch finally stood, flicking ash from his cigarette with deliberate ease. He turned to your father, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"How?” your father spat, his voice trembling with fury. “Why? Is this why you saved her all those years ago? To... to ruin her life now? You fucking filth."

Dutch closed the distance between them, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, absolutely not,” he said, his tone mockingly offended. “Your daughter? She’s a firecracker, no doubt about it. But innocent?” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous timbre. “Not as innocent as she likes to think.”

Your father’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as he struggled to keep himself from lashing out. “What the hell are you talking about?!” he growled. “She hasn’t done anything to you! Think twice about speaking about her like that! You are the one to say this?!”

Dutch straightened, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. "Didn’t she? Well, must have kept you in the dark then...” he said, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Trapped one of my strongest men in some kind of spell, huh? Poor Arthur, wallowing in misery over a petty little thing. Can’t have that going on with my son, now can I?” His grin widened, cruel and calculated. "Don’t worry, though. She gonna be in safe hands."

“She did no such thing!” your father roared, his voice echoing through the room.

But then the sharp, jarring crack of gunfire rang out from upstairs, six shots in rapid succession.

Your father’s eyes widened in horror. “(Y/N)!” he cried, surging toward the stairs, only to be intercepted by Dutch, who pressed a hand firmly against his chest to hold him back.

“Stay put,” Dutch ordered, his tone brooking no argument. He gestured with his cigarette toward the ceiling, his expression entirely unbothered. “She’s probably fine. A little fight in her, that one, but Arthur can handle it.”

Your father’s chest heaved with restrained rage, his eyes blazing. “If anything happens to her-”

Dutch raised a hand to cut him off, smirking as he took another drag. "Relax. You should be proud. She’s got courage." His grin turned sharper

"Please, for fuck’s sake! I BEG YOU! You can ask for anything else, anything! Just let her go! Please, what do you want? Gold? Money? Just name it!" Your father’s voice cracked, desperation and fear pooling in every syllable.

Dutch chuckled, a low, mocking sound that filled the room. "C’mon, don’t tell me you’re so clueless to this tradition," his voice dripped with condescension. Your daughter’s married now, and look, even better, it’s the occasion.”

Your father’s hands trembled, the weight of helplessness bearing down on him. His lips parted as though to speak again, but no words came. His eyes flickered toward the stairs, where gunfire had just torn through the house, his thoughts scattered, struggling to comprehend everything unfolding.

At that moment, Bill, who had been standing silently in the background, moved behind Dutch and whispered something to him as your father stood broken at the side, his face twisted in silent grief, barely able to hold himself upright.

"Dutch...aren't we going to loot..." Bill's voice was hushed, but still tinged with curiosity and greed.

Dutch silenced him with a glare, one that made Bill pause.

"Now’s not the time. We came here for your brother’s sake, remember?”

Bill seemed to understand, taking a step back and nodding quietly. Dutch, however, didn’t break his smile.

Your father, still trembling, shot a glance toward the stairs, his mind racing with dread. He was standing on the precipice of losing everything, and there was nothing he could do.

"Don’t worry," Dutch continued with mocking reassurance, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his gun. "We’ll take care of her."

The sound of approaching footsteps was unmistakable, growing louder with each passing second. Through the open door, the trio saw Arthur, dragging you by the back of your neck like a ragdoll as he descended and made his way to the front door, your screams filling the hallway.

"DAD! HELP!"

"Well, that was a one hell of a climax. Time for us to go," Dutch stubbed his cigar, mused.

"NO! At least promise me you’ll let her meet us, Dutch! ARTHUR!?" Your father’s voice cracked as he desperately followed them outside, his every step driven by panic.

"I ain't promising nothing," came a flat, unfeeling reply from Arthur.

He continues dragging you to the horses, his grip unyielding, his eyes fixed forward, refusing to meet your tear-streaked face. He ignores your curses, your protests, and even the anguish that radiates from you. He can't bear the sight of your grief-stricken expression, it gnaws at something deep within him, unsettling in a way he won’t admit.

But a custom is a custom. A law is a law. No matter how cruel it may seem. If he can do it, so he will. He deserves this. You made him do it. That’s what he tells himself. That’s what he has to believe.

Right now, there’s no one, nothing, that can change his mind. Not even you.

"You heard the man," Dutch added.

With no further hesitation, he shoved you towards the waiting horse, the sight of it sending a jolt of fear through your chest. “Get on,” he ordered.

Dutch, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow and let out a chuckle. "Wow, Arthur seems like she gave you a run for your money."

But Arthur, not in the mood for jokes, shot him a glare before forcefully pushing you over the side of the horse. The impact jolted you, knocking the wind out of you, but you barely had time to recover before Arthur was behind you. He swung himself up with ease, his arm immediately locking around your waist and arms, not allowing you to smack his face.

"ARTHUR, STOP! PLEASE! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!" You screamed, your voice breaking with every word. "DAD! MAMA!!"

“Let her have her moment,” Dutch muttered. “It won’t change a damn thing.”

“Keep quiet,” he murmured, almost soothingly, his breath warm against your neck. “We’re not finished yet, but it’s better this way.”

"I'll NEVER FORGIVE YOU ARTHUR! I TRUSTED YOU! YOU SICK BASTARD."

You couldn't believe that he, Arthur , of all people would pull this sick tradition on you.

Arthur’s jaw ticked, but his face remained unreadable as he nudged the horse forward. “You don’t have to forgive me,” he muttered, his voice low. “But you will understand.”

As the group began to move, the last thing you saw was your father standing alone in the yard, his figure hunched with defeat and sorrow.

From inside, your mother’s muffled cries pierced the stillness, her silhouette visible through the window. She clung to Charles, who whispered words of comfort, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. But it was futile. The anguish etched on her face, the way her fingers clawed at the glass, spoke volumes, she was powerless, just as they all were, as they watched you being taken.

Dragged away from your shell, from the safe haven that had cradled you. Dragged away from the life you knew, the life you were about to begin, toward nothing but hell.

❀˖°

Hosea stood frozen for a moment, the faint crunch of boots on the dirt fading as the reality of what he was seeing set in. His feet moved almost instinctively, drawn toward the commotion in disbelief. He’d been hearing whispers all day, murmurs of a celebration, an event, an important job for Arthur the men went for, but he had dismissed them as the usual camp talk, exaggerations, half-truths, nonsense.

But now, seeing Arthur dismount his horse and drag a trembling girl, still clad in a torn and dirtied wedding dress, toward the tent... it was undeniable. They had really done it.

His gaze darted to Susan, who stood just as stunned. Their earlier conversation flashed in his mind, the discussion about where the men had gone, the unease about the strange orders from Dutch, and the peculiar behavior of the girls tasked with tossing roses on the ground like it was some sort of sick celebration. He’d hoped, prayed even, that it was some kind of twisted joke, a misunderstanding that would blow over.

But this?

This was no misunderstanding.

He couldn’t look away from the girl's figure, her torn dress, her tangled hair, her earring missing, her sandals scuffed and unevenly hanging on her feet, as Arthur pulled her forward, unrelenting, without so much a word.

"What the hell have you done, Arthur?" Though no one was near enough to hear it.

Neither of them could stop watching as Arthur continued forward, the girl stumbling in his grasp.

Your stomach churned every second as your eyes registered the half-hearted trail of roses that lined the dirt path leading to Arthur’s tent.

What a sick fucking joke. Sick people.

The petals were scattered unevenly, their soft pinks and reds a stark, mocking contrast to a camp filled with bloodied hands. Clearly, an instruction to decorate, under Dutch’s twisted idea of humor and celebratory mood for something mentioned as a 'Special night, ladies and gents.' They looked less like a romantic gesture and more like an haunting welcome for a captive bride.

Arthur’s grip on you was ironclad as he dragged you through the camp. Every step felt heavier, the sound of your feet and protests against the ground swallowed by the murmurs around you. The others watched silently from the sidelines, the faces curious, some avoiding your gaze entirely, others too indifferent to hide their stares.

The girls, who had once whispered excitedly about the possibility of Arthur performing the tradition, now stood frozen, their faces pale with realization. They had heard the rumors, the stories of lovers who ran away together taking advantage of this tradition and some had hoped that you, his secret new lover, and Arthur were following that same romantic, rebellious path instead of the other one, which was done out of either malice, ego and all the darker emotions. But as they watched, they saw the truth, this was no act of love, no escape from an overbearing family. This one was performed as the latter option...

"Ladies and gentlemen, c'mon, celebrate. Our boy's married. Your brother Arthur! Javier, hit the tune, boy," Dutch called out, his voice cutting through the murmur of the crowd, forcing attention back onto him. "Tonight’s a night of celebration, in fact, this whole week! A celebration of new beginnings, don’t you all agree?"

He received few cheers and hoots and the music picked up, the strumming of the guitar piercing the otherwise silent night. But for now, the noise was a necessary distraction. The leader was tired of the whole drama and wasn't in the mood to hear you yelling.

"We’ve got ourselves a fine family here, don’t we? Now let’s enjoy this night."

The celebration continued, the laughter getting louder by the second but you....you were stuck with nothing but a monster in a suffocating space.

❀˖°

"WHY?! ARTHUR, WHY?!" Your voice cracked with frustration and disbelief as the words tumbled out, the weight of it all suffocating you.

Arthur’s eyes were cold, his expression unreadable as he loomed over you. His grip tightened on your jaw, his fingers pressing into your skin with cruel force. "Why? Huh? Because I wanted to. And I did it," he replied, his voice low and venomous, as if daring you to challenge him.

You struggled against him, your mind racing, trying to make sense of the madness. "Because I rejected you?! HUH?! You couldn’t fucking handle that?! NOTHING CAN SCREAM COWARDICE MORE THAN THIS!"

Arthur’s face twisted, dark fury flashing in his eyes. Without warning, his hand shot up to your hair, yanking it painfully. You gasped, the sharp sting shooting through your scalp. Your heart raced, and a sick feeling churned in your chest.

"Not so in authority now, hm?" Arthur sneered, his grip on your jaw tightening further, his nails digging into your skin. "Did your precious money help? Your pristine pathetic fiancé? Your daddy? See? At the end of the day, you had nothing," he spat, each word like a dagger to your chest.

You couldn’t breathe, every inch of your body screaming in agony. But even as his fingers threatened to crush your spirit, you refused to let him see your weakness. You glared up at him, despite the pain, despite the fear.

"I HAD EVERYTHING!" The words escaped in a broken, desperate gasp, but they were firm. Your chest heaved with every breath, your body trembling under his hold. Your lower body was already tired due to the ride and all the struggle and now from scraping against the ground, supporting your upper body as he held you without an ounce of softness.

"Yo-u fucker- I still have everything. Will have, always." You spat, rage flooding your veins as the words broke through the pain. "I am not the one who lost dignity, it's you, cowboy. Men lik-e you, lowlifes, so desperate to have anyt-hing, that they have to use some illiterate, pitiable traditions just to get the bare minimum-"

Arthur let out a low chuckle, his grip tightening around your waist as he lifted you up, his gaze cold and calculating. He held you there, suspended against his chest, his eyes boring down into yours as if searching for something to break, something to conquer.

"Nice speech," he mocked, his voice dripping with venom. "I see where Daddy put all his efforts when raising you. But say whatever the fuck you want, sweetheart. Just remember to look around and see where you are before you do."

His words cut through you, each one an anchor pulling you deeper into the hellish reality of your situation. "Yeah, you're back with us, but it ain't the same anymore, darlin'. You are with me now. Your husband." He smirked which made your stomach turn. "And I ain’t gonna be nice anymore."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "This is what happens when you act all coy and play with someone, someone like me."

Your heart pounded, and you tried to push against him, but he held you firmly, his strength like iron around your body. "You si-cko! You think I wanted this? Wanted you?! Don't forget you were the one begging to be with me! You could have done this with anyone! Any other woman Arthur! ANY! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO RUIN MY LIFE!?"

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening, before he roughly shoved you, lifting you up and throwing you onto the cot with force. The impact left you gasping for breath as you struggled to make sense of everything. "Shut your fuckin' mouth," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

"I think it's clear by now, why you."

You barely had time to react before he seized both of your wrists, pinning them behind you with a brutal grip. His movements were cold and calculated as he reached beneath the cot, pulling out something that made your heart stop. You had no time to process what it was before he was tying your hands to the cot's frame, his fingers quick and efficient, securing you in place.

"NO! STOP!-" you started, panic creeping into your voice, but Arthur cut you off with a chilling command.

"Be thankful I ain't gagging your loud mouth. Now missy, you are gonna sit here all nice," he said, his tone devoid of any emotion, "till I come back."

You struggled, pulling against the tight restraints, but it was no use. Your body was pressed against the rough material of the cot, and the reality of your situation hit you like a punch to the gut.

Arthur stood over you, his eyes under the hat scanning every inch of you with a gaze so cold it made your skin crawl. His eyes lingered on your wedding suit, disheveled from the rough treatment, your face streaked with angry tears, the fury, fear, and pain burning in your gaze.

He took in the scene...really took it in.

You

Now sitting on his cot.

Unable to escape.

Bound and helpless.

Perfect.

"You better hope I don't come back to a mess."

"WAIT! Arthur please, t-think--I am--ready to forgive you if you take me back, I swear I'll forget--I'll forget this night in a flash! And my family too. And I am sorry if I hurt you that day but please….y'know, I don't deserve it...y'know it right?! I DON'T! PLEASE! Be the same Arthur you were before, please…we were friends. Friends...don't do this. C'mon..there's still time. Please. Take me back..." You let yourself sob hoping that he will see some sense...feel your pain.

Friends.

Arthur froze for a moment, his hand gripping the tent's flap, his body tensing as your words rang in the air. The desperation in your voice hit him like a blow, each syllable a plea for mercy, for the man you thought he could be, the man he used to be. But he didn’t turn around, didn’t immediately react. Instead, he stood there, his breath shallow.

His eyes closed briefly, and for a moment, there was something, something that almost looked like hesitation. His jaw clenched tight, his mind warring with itself.

He should walk away. He knew he should. This wasn’t supposed to be about you anymore, wasn’t supposed to be about anything resembling softness or mercy. He had made this choice, gone this far, and there was no going back.

But then, your words sank deeper. He could hear it in the way you begged, the way you crumbled before him, the desperate promise that you’d forget this night, as if erasing it could make everything right again. He wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe that he could take you back and everything would be like before, that his world could go back to the way it was when you and him...met in that cafe and everything felt simple.

No.

He couldn't let himself go there. Not now.

That place was where it all started and unfolded. Where his love was humiliated. It was the same...cafe where Mary had met him a few times. Yeah, that's why he chose it because he wanted a new chapter with you filled with the same sweetness...

With a slow, controlled exhale, he finally turned around, meeting your tear-streaked eyes. There was something in his gaze, something darker and colder than before.

"You think I care about your forgiveness? Your apology?" His voice was low and rough, but there was a strange calm to it now. "Well, sweetheart, you believed in reality right? Different worlds huh? Here it is. My world. Which means it's your world now. One single world now. And you are going to accept it. And all this bullshit about friendship- well, you'd be shocked to know that this is the same me, this is how we can be when we want to be. That's what an outlaw is, darlin'."

He stormed out of the tent and his ears were greeted with music which he totally didn't hear when he was inside, as if his ears had blocked the noise.

The congratulatory nods and claps on the back from the boys barely reached his ears, they too backed of sensing his mood. He kept his eyes ahead, his thoughts spiraling into a fog as he headed toward the wagon to treat the damn wounds.

In his heart he was chuckling though, at your attempts that took place earlier.

Endearing indeed.

He could still hear your voice in his head, desperate, pleading, and it only made the gnawing frustration and anger inside him worse. Your apology, your words of regret, meant nothing now. In his mind, it was too late for that. He had already made his choice, and the consequences were to be damned.

"Ms. Grimshaw, c'mere!" Arthur barked, tossing his jacket onto the wagon and snatching up the medical kit.

Nearby, Grimshaw was fending off Mary and Tilly, who swarmed her with questions like inquisitive hornets after Dutch had spun his tale, taking credit, of course. Arthur found his love because of me.

"Why didn’t you ever tell us she was here before, huh?"

"How rich is she, exactly?"

"Is it really love marriage, though?"

With one sharp scolding, Grimshaw silenced the girls and made her way toward the new groom.

"It’s (Y/N). Remember?"

"Y-yes...I remember-"

"Exactly, now go inside that tent and get some sense into her head. She needs to realize how things work. How they are gonna fuckin' work."

He shot her a look that dared her to question him. Grimshaw hesitated for a moment, her usual strict eyes flicking toward his tent where you were likely still seething with rage and sorrow.

"Now!" Arthur barked, once again.

With a stiff nod, Grimshaw swallowed her uncertainty and turned toward the tent, the weight of his command heavy in her steps. Arthur watched her go, then turned away to tend to his wounds.

❀˖°

Susan entered the tent, her steps hesitant as she tried to piece together how she was supposed to handle this mess. Her sharp eyes took you in, sitting motionless on the cot, trembling, your expression caught somewhere between disbelief and seething rage.

Oh, dear.

The sight pulled at something deep inside her. You weren’t a child anymore, that much was clear, but it was the very fact that you had grown, matured, and still ended up here, in this nightmare, that shattered her heart. All the efforts they had made to shield you from the darkness of the world felt cruelly pointless. The very horrors they had once tried to save you from had found you anyway, only worse, delivered by the very people who had sworn to protect you.

"Girlie..." Susan's voice softened as she moved closer, kneeling down and sitting in front of you. Your eyes remained fixed on the distance, unblinking and hollow.

"I'm so sorry for... what happened. It's me, Susan. Remember? Aunty Susan. I’m with you, okay? Hey, please, look at me." She reached out hesitantly, and suddenly, your head snapped toward her, startling her just enough to make her flinch.

"Su-Susan? Aunty Susan? Listen, you have to help me, right fucking now. Open the rope, just open it, and I swear, I'll reward you. You’ll be taken care of for life. In fact, come with me, and you'll see how much you'll be rewarded. Here, take this necklace! It's worth so much! C’mon, take it! Open the rope woman!" Your voice cracked, a frantic desperation breaking through every word, as your neck nudged the jeweled necklace toward her.

Susan swallowed hard, her gaze lingering on the necklace. It was beautiful an obvious treasure, but it wasn’t the gleam of gold or gems that stilled her. It was what it symbolized, the dreams your parents had woven into this day, the life you were supposed to have, and even her own long-buried memories of what her wedding day had meant to her.

"You have to... understand," she whispered, her voice trembling just enough to betray her own emotions. "I can’t, darling. I can’t do that. It won’t help anyone. Trust me."

You stared at her, your breaths hitching, disbelief written across your face as her words hung heavy in the air. Not knowing what else to do, not knowing how to comfort you, or even how to be firm, Susan leaned forward and wrapped her arms around you.

"H-how did this happen?! Tell me it's a joke..."

"It's not," Susan said softly, her voice steady but laced with sorrow. "It's real. And it’s only going to get worse if I do what you’re asking of me. For you , for me and...even your family. So don’t ask me that. Don’t ask me for what I can’t give you, darling."

"I wanna go back--please--let me go!"

Her hand moved to your head, gently caressing it as she smoothed your messy hair, the gesture tender and maternal. "I’m here with you, okay? I’m here,"

You didn't know how long you sobbed pathetically in her arms being cradled like a child. By now she had wrapped a blanket around you , another way to offer comfort , warmth and to shield you...perhaps momentarily, but still.

Just then, someone cleared their throat outside. Your mind immediately went on high alert, hyperaware of Arthur’s presence or any man’s presence, and you stiffened. Sensing your panic, Susan tightened her grip on you protectively.

"Yes?" she called out sharply.

"I brought the Miss's stuff..."

"Come in," Susan replied.

Charles stepped inside, his eyes downcast as he carried several bags and a chest, placing them carefully in a corner.

"I-uh... also brought your cat," he added, his voice softer, as though he wasn’t sure how to break the news.

"Suki?! Where?! Is she okay?" Her name alone made some scrap of hope return to your eyes.

"She’s in my tent for now... don’t worry, she’s safe," Charles reassured you, glancing at you briefly before looking away.

"Please bring her here-" you started, your desperation palpable, but your words were cut off by the sound of heavy boots entering the tent.

Arthur strode in with a bowl in his hand, his presence oppressive and inescapable. Charles froze, his back straightening as he turned toward Arthur.

"You didn't bring anything extra right? Just the necessary stuff?"

"Nothing extra. Didn't take anything else...just like you said. Only important stuff her mother gave."

"Hm, right."

Charles then immediately exited the tent with a stiff nod.

"You two havin' a little heart-to-heart in here?" His eyes flicked to Susan. "Hope you’re not fillin’ her head with any ideas, Miss Grimshaw. She don’t need no rescuin’. She’s right where she’s meant to be."

He stepped closer, the bowl in his hand almost forgotten. "Now, you gonna make sure she eats, or do I need to stay here and do it myself?"

"I am doing it, Arthur."

Even Susan was pissed internally at the boy, beyond pissed but she couldn't say anything.

Without waiting for a response, he turned sharply and exited the tent, his boots crunching against the dirt outside.

You couldn't take more than one bite due to your misery. Your head pounding with visions of what a fucking nightmare you went through today. Not only you...but your family and...Omar. God, he didn't deserve this, any of this. It's all your fucking fault. ALL OF IT! Why did you have to be friends with a fucking outlaw of all people? How the fuck are you supposed to rest for a second not even knowing if he survived or not. And his family? God, knows what these assholes did to them. You had found a gem of a man, whom you were about to marry and spend a peaceful life...it's all gone...? Just like that?

"Though, for the record, I’m not fond of buying flowers. I prefer them in their roots, not plucked out."

Omar tilted his head, intrigued. "Fair enough," he said with a soft chuckle. "I’ll keep that in mind next time."

You realized how deeply you related to the flowers that were plucked from their roots, uprooted from the soil they called home. Taken not for their own sake, but because someone else wanted them. Wanted to display them, to use their beauty to adorn a corner of their world. In this case, to be nothing more than an accessory in someone else’s life.

❀˖°

Dutch sat at the small table, casually pouring himself a drink, his demeanor annoyingly calm in the face of Hosea’s frustration.

"So this was it, huh?" Hosea snapped, his voice sharp. "Him getting a bigger tent, a new, bigger cot, you ordering to decorate the whole damn camp like it was a festival, all that shit was for this?! Whilst you kept silent and watched him?!"

Dutch took a sip of his drink and leaned back in his chair, unfazed. "Yes, so? Weren't you the one worried about him, Hosea? I just did what was necessary."

"Necessary?!" Hosea practically exploded, throwing his hands in the air. "God give me strength. I said to talk to him, Dutch. Or better yet, to talk sense into him! And what did you do? You sided with him! Egged him on! Didn't even tell me all of this?"

"I didn’t side with him, Hosea. I gave him what he needed. Handled it, reigned him in. Don't wanna lose him now, do we?"

"And you think this was the way to handle it?"

"Hosea, he is his own man, he can make decisions, I just supported him! So stop clutching your pearls and see the bigger picture here-" They paused as Molly stepped into the tent, carrying a bowl of stew.

"Thanks, darling," he said with a warm smile, pressing a kiss to her cheek before watching her saunter back out to the lively sounds of the camp party.

"First of all, sit down."

With a grunt, Hosea obeyed, though it was clear from the slump of his shoulders that he wasn’t entirely willing. He braced himself for whatever convoluted plan Dutch was about to spin, fully expecting it to be something that would leave him exasperated.

Dutch leaned forward, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. "Okay, this, for now, stays between you and me. Got it? Especially not Arthur. The boy’s already on some level of feral, and I’m trying to keep the fire under control. So yeah, I fed him a fish, like you’d toss to a starving lion but this fish, Hosea… this is a special one. Trust me when I say that. You are going to like it too, in fact thank me. And you noticed, right? No dowry taken today. Not a cent from her family. Arthur didn’t want it, too proud, too sentimental, apparently an honourless act for him, which is fine. I get it. But me? I had my reasons too. Always do."

"We are not lootin' em Dutch. Not a leaf or stone."

"Course' pal...Just the girl."

Dutch took a slow sip of his drink, savoring the moment. "Just trust me," he repeated, his voice steady but insistent. "I didn’t bring in some girl. I brought a gem itself. And don’t you start on that 'we saved her years ago' crap, because let me remind you, it wasn’t me who decided to have some kind of romantic rendezvous with her. That was Arthur. And, well, maybe it’s fate. The boy finally made a damn choice."

"So dragging her into this mess is your idea of brilliance? Another one of your so-called masterstrokes?"

Dutch leaned forward, his voice lowering into something just short of a warning. "Trust the process, Hosea. Have some damn faith. Don’t let her tears fool you, she’s no saint in all this. She brought some of this on herself, and you know it."

"Oh, I’m sure she did," Hosea bit back, his voice laced with sarcasm. "But tell me, Dutch, what woman in her right mind would ever want this?"

Dutch leaned back, unruffled, a sly smile creeping upon his face. "Want it? Maybe not. But this is what happens when you get tangled up with us. Choices were made, Hosea, by her and by Arthur. And now? She’s one of us. A Van Der Linde."

─AN: A fic of mine can't be whole without Dutch's plans ofc ¬_¬) To be added or removed , you can always comment , I'd suggest commenting on the first part so you guys aren't scattered everywhere. Peace.

★ tag list: @shackspossum @whalecage @nayykura @m1stea @warmsideofthepillow03 @thatoneraeder @marzintears @nxttaru @cazzacarm @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 @nulixity @poll-u @bajabish @cheesycheddarr @luzzbuzz @dilfsarelife @ninastyless @claire-is-here @raeraypoca @hopingtoclearmedschool @lain3iwakura @bashfulcowgirl87 @catjsashrine @bipolarbitties @lizynownow

[itsriotmotherfuckers]

So we all know the AU where Sirius and Remus raise Harry, but I have a new suggestion. What if, after Alice and Frank are tortured to the point of insanity and James and Lily are murdered, Sirius and Remus take both Harry and Neville in.

Imagine Harry and Neville being raised as brothers with a solid support network. Imagine both of them having childhoods free of neglect and abuse and expectations. Them being raised with stories of their parents and a household full of love and kindness. Them getting to stay up at night, hiding out under the blankets with a flashlight to giggle about nothing. Them stealing cookie dough and bits of food while Sirius and Remus cook, making a competition out of it. Them going off to Hogwarts together, being sorted together, and having sleepovers in the same fourposter.

Then imagine little Teddy Lupin being born, probably when they’re still relatively young, maybe seven or eight. Them getting so excited, getting in Sirius and Remus’ bed to poke Remus’ stomach and talk to their baby sibling (and sometimes poke Sirius’ stomach just because they can). Them taking it upon themselves to teach Teddy new words and then turning it into a challenge to see who can teach them more. Them rushing Sirius to get them home from Hogwarts quicker every break so they can say hi to their little sibling. Them regaling Teddy with tales of the castle (some of which are more made up than others just to fuck with them) together.

Imagine their family being Sirius, Remus, Neville, Harry, and Teddy, living together and being happy. They all get a happy ending. They get to be safe and surrounded by love. Just… imagine.

[bunnyinvanilla]

reader + price somehow run into her family/ parents? Maybe they come to the bar or something but it’s awkward because her dad’s wondering why his daughter is with someone his age. better yet he’s her SUGAR DADDY. ormaybe it’s for Christmas/ new years. idk.

let’s just say you’ve moved abroad, as an exchange student working part time at the local bar of your sugar daddy, military captain, boss, john price, and you’ve never, ever told a soul about your relationship. The chance of anyone finding out is highly impossible, but what if your parents decide to surprise you for Christmas day and visit you at the bar?

you’ve been excited about Christmas, practically pleading john to let you decor the bar with cute, christmasy decorations. He didn’t care that much, wasn’t necessarily happy about seeing glittery ribbons everywhere, but he couldn’t say no to you, his little girl.

“what about a little mistletoe, daddy? we could hang it on the front door, so when couples come here they can kiss,” you beamed at the idea, looking up at him with gleaming, happy eyes while holding a box full of Christmas ornaments.

his brow perks up, a half, lazy smirk making his mustache twitch “we’re not hanging a mistletoe in my bar, doll”

you pout, placing the box down on the counter “why not? they’re so cute, and they’re elegant, delicate, it’ll blend in with the walls colors.”

john smirks at your whiny tone, and with a swift motion, he slips his arm around your waist, pushing you closer to him. He wraps his arm tight around your lower back, pressing your body against his “don’t need the mistletoe to kiss my girl whenever I want, doll”

you bite your lip to hide a little giggle, but he hungrily captures it with his mouth, crashing his lips against yours. Your back arches, and he leans closer to you, mouth devouring yours like a Christmas dinner, tongue delving deep and forcefully.

then you hear it. That familiar voice, engraved in your memory for years, you’d recognize it everywhere. You freeze, body tensing completely, and your head shifts to the side, as if struck by a lighting.

your parents are here.

at the bar, in the city.

you quickly push yourself away from john, trying to regain some composure. Your cheeks are completely on fire, and you hide your hand behind your back to try and subtly tug down at the hem of your skirt.

“dad,” you say, your voice holding all the mixing emotions, surprise, stupor and disbelief upon seeing them for the first time after months. You wish you could hide under a table. “mom, what are you doing here?”

but your father’s eyes are stuck on john — they fleck around the evident signs of symmetry, the thin wrinkles behind his eyes, the blooming gray on his dark hair and beard, recognizing what he saw in the mirror everyday himself.

the realization that his daughter was kissing a man his age, that could be her own father, stuck on him like a shot of cold, freezing water. For what he knows, they could’ve been colleagues. Childhood friends, even.

“honey, we thought we’d surprise you for Christmas, see how you’ve been doing” your mom is the first to break the ice, but her own disbelief in evident in the way she lets her eyes wander between you and john, who’s still standing behind you, the perfect example of self composure, discipline, being unfazed.

“you’ve flown all the way to the city?” you ask, shame making your words heavy on your tongue. You love your parents, but coming without any forewarn has led to an unpleasant situation.

“wanted to see how it was doing at work, since it’s the holidays, and you live here all alone,” your dad speaks up, a voice that could cut through stone. John held his gaze confidently, knowing if there was a single man he had to at least pretend to show respect to, it was your father.

“but, you didn’t tell me” you mumble softly, and finally walk closer to them.

“it was a surprise” your mom says, pretending not to be affected by the sight of a man older than her, that had his arm wrapped around her young little daughter and was kissing her. She is, but she is good at hiding her emotions.

“w-well, I’m happy to see you, I was gonna call you on Christmas Day,” you shyly peek behind you, gesturing nervously towards John, your heart pounding in your chest. “this is my, uhm, my boss, john”

john strolls closer, walking past through and standing in front of your dad — he’s taller than your father, more muscular and broader, but the closeness in age is evident. John was probably even a bit older than your own father.

“Mr,” he acknowledges your dad, a short, military style greeting that doesn’t seem to please him. “it’s a pleasure”

you know him well enough to recognize that smug, cocky and arrogant tone behind his words, that half grin that hides behind his thick beard. No one could ever make john feel uncomfortable, not even seeing his unconventionally too young sugar baby’s father, with a look that threatens to kill him.

maybe they could become friends, and that way, you could officially be living the ‘dad’s friend’ trope with your sugar daddy. He’s ready to have the ‘your daughter calls me daddy too’ conversation, gosh, if he knew the things he’s done to you, how he’s been treating his little girl, how angrier would your dad look right now?

[scoupsakakitty]

hi!! I really liked the hoshi x 4th gen idol fic, do you think you could write it for my boyfie vernon please?? thank uuu <333

Eyes on You | idol!Vernon x idol!reader | fluff

The lights in the massive arena sparkled like stars, cameras flashing as idols filled the stage for the final group photo of the night. Cheers echoed through the venue, a mix of excitement and celebration as the award show came to an end.

Y/N stood with her group, smiling for the cameras and waving at the fans, but her attention kept drifting.

He was standing so close.

Vernon.

His group was positioned right next to hers, and by some twist of fate, they had ended up nearly side by side. She could feel his presence without even looking, but when she finally dared to glance his way, their eyes met.

Her breath caught, but she quickly smiled, pretending to stay calm.

To her surprise, Vernon smiled back—a small, subtle smile that made her heart race.

They held eye contact for just a second too long before Y/N looked away, trying to focus on the cameras. But the heat in her cheeks lingered.

And then it happened again.

When the music started and the idols began to exit the stage, Vernon glanced at her one more time. This time, she caught him and raised an eyebrow as if to say, Caught you.

He just smiled.

———————————————————————————-

By the time Y/N got back to her dorm that night, her phone was blowing up.

Videos of Vernon and Y/N’s lingering stares and subtle smiles had gone viral. Fans had zoomed in, slowed the footage, and added captions about “soulmates” and “love at first sight.”

Y/N buried her face in her hands as her groupmates crowded around her, laughing and showing her the edits.

“Oh my God, look at this one!” one of them said, shoving their phone toward her. It was a slowed-down video of Vernon smiling at her with dramatic music in the background.

“Stop,” Y/N groaned, but she couldn’t stop smiling.

Her heart skipped when she saw his name trending alongside hers. Was he seeing all of this too?

———————————————————————————-

The next day, Y/N’s phone buzzed with a notification.

Instagram DM: Chwe Hansol

Her heart dropped. No way.

She opened it quickly.

Vernon: Hey. I hope this isn’t weird, but I just wanted to say congrats on your performance last night. You guys were amazing.

Y/N stared at the message, reading it three times before typing back.

Y/N: Thank you so much! Congrats to you too. You guys were incredible.

His reply came almost instantly.

Vernon: Haha, thanks. I think I might have stared a little too much last night. Sorry about that.

She laughed out loud.

Y/N: You definitely did. But it’s okay—I was staring too.

There was a pause, and Y/N wondered if she’d said too much. But then another message popped up.

Vernon: Wanna make it less awkward and talk in person sometime?

———————————————————————————-

A few days later, they finally met up. It was late at night, and the streets were quiet as they walked side by side through the city.

Y/N had been nervous at first, but Vernon’s easygoing vibe put her at ease. They talked about everything—music, family, and how surreal their lives felt sometimes.

At one point, Y/N pulled out her phone. “I need to show you something.”

“What is it?” Vernon leaned closer, curious.

“My cat had kittens last week,” she said, grinning as she pulled up photos.

His eyes lit up as he looked at the pictures. “No way. They’re so tiny!”

“I was there when they were born,” Y/N said, her smile softening. “Two of them needed help, so I had to step in.”

Vernon looked at her, clearly impressed. “You helped deliver them?”

She nodded. “It was kind of scary, but also amazing.”

“That’s… really cool,” he said, swiping through the pictures. “They’re adorable.”

“You should meet them,” Y/N said without thinking. When she realized what she’d said, her eyes widened. “I mean—only if you want to.”

Vernon smiled. “I want to.”

As they kept walking, Vernon brushed his hand against hers—just lightly at first, almost as if by accident. But when Y/N didn’t pull away, he laced his fingers through hers.

Her heart skipped, but she didn’t let go.

———————————————————————————-

A few days later, rumors exploded online.

Photos had surfaced of two people walking hand-in-hand late at night. Their faces weren’t visible, but fans speculated immediately—was it Vernon and Y/N?

Y/N scrolled through the photos, her stomach twisting. The comments were endless, and even though some fans defended them, others weren’t as kind.

Her phone buzzed.

Vernon: Don’t worry about the photos. Are you okay?

Y/N: I’m fine. Just nervous.

Vernon: Me too. Can I see you later?

They met up again that night, but this time, Vernon looked more serious.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about this,” he said, his voice soft. “And about you.”

Y/N swallowed. “What about me?”

“I like you, Y/N. More than a friend.” He hesitated, his fingers brushing against hers again. “I know this isn’t easy, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

Y/N’s heart pounded.

“I like you too,” she admitted.

Vernon’s eyes softened, and he let out a quiet breath of relief. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, they just stood there, hands still linked.

“I don’t care what people say,” Vernon said finally. “As long as you’re okay with this, I’ll do whatever it takes to make it work.”

Y/N smiled softly, her fingers tightening around his. “I’m okay with this,” she said, her voice steady despite the rapid beating of her heart. “As long as we’re careful and honest with each other, I think we can handle it.”

Vernon’s lips curved into a relieved smile. “I’ll always be honest with you.”

They stood there for a moment longer, just taking it all in—the weight of what they had just admitted to each other, the excitement of something new, and the slight nervousness of what might come next.

Finally, Vernon gently pulled her closer, their joined hands resting between them. “I promise, I’ll protect this—protect us. No matter what.”

Y/N looked up at him, her chest warming at his words. “Me too.”

———————————————————————————-

The days that followed were a blur of rehearsals, schedules, and whispers about the mysterious couple in the viral photos. Fans had yet to confirm their identities, but speculation continued to spread.

Y/N tried to ignore the noise, focusing instead on the texts and late-night calls with Vernon that had quickly become the highlight of her days.

One night, Vernon called her after his schedule ended.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

Y/N sighed, flopping onto her bed. “Better than I expected. I think the rumors are starting to die down.”

“Good.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I miss you.”

Her heart fluttered. “I miss you too.”

“Can I see you this weekend?”

Y/N smiled. “You still want to meet my kittens?”

Vernon laughed. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to that.”

———————————————————————————-

When Vernon finally came over to see her kittens, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. She had never invited someone into this part of her life before—her home, her safe space—but Vernon fit in so naturally.

The moment he stepped inside, his eyes lit up at the sight of the kittens tumbling over each other in their tiny bed.

“No way,” he said, crouching down to get a closer look. “They’re even cuter in person.”

“I told you,” Y/N teased, sitting down beside him.

One of the kittens—a fluffy gray one—wandered over to Vernon and pawed at his shoe. He laughed and gently picked it up, cradling it in his hands like it was the most fragile thing in the world.

Y/N watched him, her heart swelling.

“You’re really good with them,” she said softly.

Vernon looked up and smiled. “I like them. And… I like being here.”

Her breath caught, but before she could say anything, Vernon leaned in and kissed her cheek.

“You make me feel at home,” he murmured, his voice so soft she almost didn’t catch it.

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder as the kitten purred in his lap.

———————————————————————————-

Despite the rumors, the world slowly moved on, and Vernon and Y/N fell into an easy rhythm.

They couldn’t be as public as other couples, but they found comfort in stolen moments—late-night walks, quiet dinners, and lazy afternoons playing with kittens.

Their relationship wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs. And as they held hands in the privacy of her apartment, surrounded by sleeping kittens, Y/N knew she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Vernon squeezed her hand gently, pulling her closer.

“We’ll figure this out,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her forehead.

Y/N smiled. “I know we will.”

And for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

[na0koz]

some jinx hcs!!!!! just general ones

toxic!jinx masterlist

- her love languages are physical touch and quality time. since you met you’ve spent more time than not with her and she honestly can’t go more than two days without seeing you. most of the time you hang out with her she’s touching you in some way as well. holding your hand or a strand of your hair, anything.

- loves to sit in your lap all curled up while you hold her head to your chest. it makes her feel safe and loved. she just crawls into your lap whenever she needs a little extra comfort.

- we all know jinx is a genius, and it’s no secret when she makes little trinkets for you. ones that play songs or light up, all completely from scratch. they’re all specific and meaningful to you or your relationship too, like your favourite song.

- it took a lot of convincing for her to meet your family. it wasn’t that she didn’t want to she was just so scared of what they would think of her. if they were going to make you stop seeing her or something. she knows she’s a little strange but she has no idea how she would come across to her girlfriend’s parents.

- i feel like she wouldn’t watch any movies or tv shows. like if you say “have you seen ___?” she’s like “what’s that” every single time. the only shows or movies she’s seen were with you.

- the same kinda goes in reverse for the music jinx listens to. she listens to purely underground artists but not in a pretentious annoying way. that’s just the music she likes and you’ve never heard of any of the bands she likes. she also has never heard of super popular artists like arctic monkeys or whatever.

- prefers when you do her hair. she lets you wash it, brush it and braid it. she says you just ‘do it better’ and she loves the feeling of your fingers in her hair.

- she doesn’t sleep that much, and when she does she really struggles to stay asleep. it’s a little easier when she sleeps with you, especially when you’re holding her but she still struggles. she goes days with basically no sleep and then one day will spend the whole day napping on your shoulder/in your lap.

- knows literally everything about you. she knows where you fell and got the barely visible scar on your calf when you were 11, she knows your favorite pasta recipe exactly, she knows exactly how to make you feel good.

- lovveeeesss when you call her nicknames. like literally anything. simple but she likes baby the most. she calls you stupid ones like ‘sexy’ and ‘hot stuff’ because she thinks romantic ones like the ones you use for her sound weird coming out of her mouth.

- loves bugs. she just lets spiders live in her apartment. she’s one of those people that says you shouldn’t put them outside because they eat the flies or ‘they’re more scared of you than you are of them!’

- really good at memorising numbers. examples include your phone number, street/house number, birthday, childhood home address… all coincidentally to do with you! coincidentally.

- tattooed your initial on herself somewhere you wouldn’t see at first. she was hesitant to have sex at first purely because she wasn’t sure how you’d react to seeing the first letter on your name on her v-line.

- has so many clothes???? you don’t know where she gets them from and when you ask her about it, she says it’s because she hadn’t grown since she was 14 so she’s got like several years worth of clothes gathered up.

- doesn’t blink like ever. you could be telling a story and she just stares at you the entire time. when you notice how she hasn’t blinked or looked away from you and start to stutter, she’s genuinely confused when you ask her why she doesn’t blink. “i do blink! just not right now…”

[l0v3r666]

I saw that your requests are open and I am here for it!

Hopping on the love triangle train! Depending on how it goes, one between Jade and Floyd and you could either be absolutely hilarious or very messy for anyone involved. Would the tweels agree to work together and wingman for the other or would they end up fighting and try to mess up the other’s chances? I guess it comes down to if they decide they can share or not.

I’ve been waiting for this one >:0

This love triangle fully depends on Floyd’s mood, and it’s not to say that Jade’s a pushover!! The two of them get intensely petty to thwart each other’s advances, but if Floyd gets Particularly violent or mouthy, then it might just not be worth it :\ Who’d stick around a battlefield totally naked, right?? But it’s you we’re talking about, so let’s say the boys play “nice”.

Rival!Jade would take every opportunity to embarrass his opponent if they were Azul or some freshman- be it little digs in conversation or full on hazings. But, a little detail about the tweels is that they’re conditioned to fighting in every respect. Floyd is totally immune to Jade’s subtle insults because they did that in the womb! The best route for Jade to take is get to you first, and hope Floyd stays off his tail for a few years. He’s allowed to be selfish once in awhile, and surely you’ll indulge your favourite twin :)

Rival!Floyd is ridiculously high maintenance. Like, to a straight jacket level, but if you’re into it he sure as hell won’t yuck your yum <3 Floyd takes plenty of opportunities to talk about Jade, but it’s actually not to badmouth him!! He loves his brother, but you’ve gotta admit he’s a little creep to his slimey core, Floyd only gives you the full truth! Yknow how his “little” brother wet the bed for years? Or that one time he tried experimenting on a girl in elementary, and the family almost got sued!! Floyd becomes a real romantic against Jade now that you know his dirtiest secrets. There’s no way he’s not your favourite now, right? Right??

At the end of the day you probably won’t even know that either twin likes you no matter what. It’d be so much easier if they were normal, but you need to have a thing for freaks to even be friendly with them :\ The fight is far from fair, but survival of the fittest has always been their motto! Maybe you’ll even give a little affection to the loser if they look pathetic enough, and you were the only variable that ever really mattered <3

[redroomreflections]

Her Best Secret

1950s Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha and R are having an affair.

Note: I wrote this after watching Mother's Instinct with Anne Hathway and Jessica Chastain. I needed to make it gay. I don't know what this is truly but it's here.

Warnings: Smut and fluff kind off.

Picket fences. Two-and-a-half children. A dog in the yard. A steady job. A house on a quiet street. Nuclear family. Marriage. College. This was what life was about. The checklist of happiness, painted in bright colors and polished to perfection, like the chrome trim on the cars Sam sold so well.

Tonight, it all seemed true. The music drifted out from the open windows of Steve and Natasha’s house, mingling with the scent of freshly cut grass and neighbors' laughter on the patio. The neighborhood had turned out to celebrate Sam’s big promotion—another shiny star on the life everyone was striving for. You stood by the punch bowl, watching as Natasha twirled beneath Steve’s hand in the center of the makeshift dance floor. Her laughter was light and infectious, her cheeks flushed in a way that made her even more stunning under the string lights. She looked happy—effortlessly so.

Your gaze lingered a moment too long before you turned away, your hand brushing absently over the fabric of your dress. Sam was recounting the story of his big sale to an eager group of neighbors somewhere nearby. You could hear his voice rise and fall, full of charisma and charm, the same traits that had swept you off your feet all those years ago.

"Mama, come dance with us," Claire demanded as she tugged on your hand. Your daughter was the perfect mix of the two of you, and she never ceased to make your heart swell. You smiled down at her, smoothing the hair out of her face and taking in her toothy grin.

“In a minute,” you promised, swirling the punch in your glass. “Let me finish this.”

“Okay,” Claire shrugged, already distracted. She launched into her version of the jitterbug as “Why Do Fools Fall In Love” spun on the record player. Her tiny feet shuffled wildly, arms flailing with abandon. It wasn’t quite the jitterbug but hers, and she owned it.

You smiled, watching her. The song brought back memories of Sam. You could almost feel the warmth of his hands around your waist, guiding you through the steps, the two of you laughing and stumbling over each other in the middle of your living room. A good memory.

“It’s a great party, right?” came a voice behind you.

You turned to see Sarah Wilson, her warm smile disarming as always. She was one of those rare people who could make anyone feel at home. Your sister-in-law had been a steady presence in your life, offering unsolicited advice and unwavering support.

“Oh, of course,” you nodded, eyes flicking between Claire’s eclectic moves and Natasha and Steve, who were swaying comfortably in the center of the dance floor. “Everyone seems to be having a good time.”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Sarah chuckled, nodding toward the dance floor. “I didn’t think Natasha would ever get Steve out there. That man’s all business. But look at them now.”

You smiled into your glass, forcing a little laugh. “They seem like they’re enjoying themselves.”

“Speaking of enjoying,” Sarah said, her tone shifting as her gaze landed on Claire. “Your little one’s a great dancer. She’s got rhythm for sure.”

“Thanks,” you said, feeling a touch of pride.

“Have you two thought about giving her another playmate?” Sarah’s voice was casual, but her eyes gleamed with curiosity.

The question was unexpected, and you took a step back. It was a fair question. Most couples with kids would have more than one. You had known that since the day Claire was born. But the thought of having another child—with Sam, of all people—made your stomach churn.

Sarah was waiting, and you knew her well enough to know that she would keep pressing until you answered.

"Oh, well,” you began, fumbling for an answer, “I’ve been thinking about returning to work. It’s just not the right time for us.”

Sarah arched an eyebrow, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “Work, huh? Well, I’m sure Sam has his own thoughts about that.”

Before you could respond, Sam appeared beside you, his arms wrapping around your waist. “What’s going on here?” he asked, his easy grin softening the tension in your chest.

“Oh, nothing,” Sarah said lightly, though her tone betrayed her nosiness. “We were just talking about Claire’s dancing—and whether she might get a little brother or sister someday.”

Sam glanced at you, his brow lifting in amusement. “Is that so?”

You felt your cheeks warm as you shrugged helplessly.

“She said she’s thinking about returning to work,” Sarah added, her teasing smile turning to him.

Sam chuckled and shook his head. “Come on, Sarah. Leave her alone. She’s got enough on her plate without you playing matchmaker for the kids. If you'll excuse me, I want to dance with my wife."

Sarah rolled her eyes at her brother. Then, with a quick wink to you, she said, "Okay, okay, I can take a hint. But don't go too far. We're doing the fireworks after dinner and need help setting up all the chairs."

Sam took your hand and pulled you out onto the dancefloor, ignoring his sister, twirling you playfully before pulling you close. His eyes shone, and you wondered how much he had had to drink. It didn’t matter. You needed this right now; you needed to feel the warmth of his skin against yours and a distraction from seeing her with him.

"I didn't know you were thinking about returning to work," he said, his eyes searching yours.

"It's been on my mind, yes," You nodded.

"I thought we agreed you didn't need to," He tilted his head slightly. "You'd be leaving Claire with a babysitter or at daycare. We can afford to take care of her ourselves."

"I know, but..." You trailed off.

He grinned down at you, his frown barely noticeable as he leaned closer. “But what?”

You laughed softly, letting him spin you again, your hesitation hidden behind the dance. “I just… I like the idea of doing something for myself again, you know?”

Sam pulled you close, his hand firm at the small of your back. His grin widened, his tone teasing. “You mean besides raising the most beautiful kid in the neighborhood?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his charm. “Exactly,” you quipped, tapping his chest lightly. He pulled you tighter to him.

"I know it's what you want," He whispered. "But you look so beautiful when you're pregnant."

You rolled your eyes. "You're ridiculous, Sam."

"I'm just being honest," He said, his tone light and playful.

"You're drunk, and I'm tired." You tried to pull away, but he held fast, his hands firm on your hips.

"You know you want to," he teased, his breath hot on your ear. Finally, he sighed. "I love you."

"I love you, too," You muttered, closing your eyes as his lips brushed your temple. When he moved to kiss your lips, you didn't pull away. You loved Sam. You really did. You always had.

And yet...

"Okay, lovebirds,” came Natasha’s voice, cutting through the music with playful ease. “Sam, let me take her away. It’s my turn to dance.” She said it with a teasing grin, the kind that made her so easy to like. Natasha, your closest friend, was a familiar presence, one the neighborhood never found threatening.

Sam chuckled, loosening his hold on your waist. “Fine, but don’t wear her out,” he replied with mock seriousness. "I need her tonight."

You pulled away and offered him a polite smile, careful not to meet his gaze.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Sam exchanging a glance with Steve. The two men shrugged, their silent communication as effortless as their friendship. They knew nothing could come between the two of you.

“You alright?” Natasha asked softly, her voice low enough for only you to hear.

“I’m fine,” you replied.

She smiled, her lips curving into that mischievous way of hers, her eyes sparkling like she already knew the truth. “Good. Let’s go find some real fun.”

Before you could respond, she grabbed your arm gently but insistently, steering you off the dance floor and down toward the basement. She fumbled for the light control before pulling the string.

“What are we doing down here?” you asked, a small laugh escaping as she guided you to the landing. "I'm going to twist my ankle."

Natasha continued. “Sometimes a girl needs to breathe,” she said lightly, though there was an undercurrent to her words. "And Steve keeps the good beers down here."

"Well, thank God for Steve," you laughed.

"Amen," Natasha nodded as she rumbled through the deep freeze. "Ah, we only have one."

"We can share it," You shrugged. "We have the best stories, and I think we've earned it."

"Cheers," Natasha said as she raised the can and pulled the tab to open it. She wasn't anticipating the rush of foam that exploded from the top, so she stepped back in horror. Droplets landed on the floor and her dress.

"Oh no," You groaned.

"Shit," She muttered, trying to brush the beer off her front.

"Oh, no. Natasha, I'm so sorry. Come here," You reached for the paper towels on the table and tried to wipe off the beer. "I think I made it worse."

"Yeah, me too," Natasha muttered, frowning as she dabbed at the wet stain. "God, I can't believe this. This is the worst."

You sighed, trying not to laugh. "It's not that bad. Just tell people it's a design feature. Or... or pretend it's a bloodstain. Tell people you got a little violent."

Natasha's laughter bubbled up, and she gave you a playful shove. "Don't joke like that! My blood is supposed to stay on the inside, thank you very much. Also, it's clear, and blood is red."

You chuckled, reaching for the can. "Here, give me some of that."

Natasha relented and watched as you sipped from the can. Her eyes never seemed to leave you.

"So...how's Sam?"

"He's...good."

Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly. "That's it?"

You shrugged. "What do you want me to say? He's...good. Things are good."

"Mmm," she hummed, tilting her head slightly.

"What?" you asked, your voice coming out more defensively than you intended.

"What were you guys talking about?"

"Nothing. It was nothing. Just...work. Stuff. Things. Nothing important."

Natasha pursed her lips, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh."

You sighed, trying not to fidget under her stare. "He wants another baby."

Natasha blinked. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And what?"

"How do you feel about it?"

"I don't know," you shrugged. "I mean, I love Claire, and I don't know if we're ready for another baby. And..." You trailed off.

"And?"

"It's just...hard," you admitted quietly. "He's so attentive when I'm pregnant, and I get to spend a lot of time with him, and then when the baby comes, he gets so busy. It's just...hard. And sometimes, I think maybe it would be better if we didn't have any more kids."

"You don't want Claire to have a sibling?" She probed. "Are you guys being careful?"

"By careful, do you mean not letting him finish inside me?"

"Um, yes?"

"Then yes," you confirmed, nodding. "Do you really want to hear the ways Sam and I are practicing safe sex?"

Natasha laughed, the sound soft and low, a private melody just for you. “No, no, I don’t,” she said, shaking her head slightly. She would rather you not sleep with him at all. She sighed, the corners of her mouth tugging downward, then licked her lips—a slow, deliberate motion that drew your attention, as it always did. That shade of red was your favorite on her, and she knew it.

Her green eyes met yours, steady and probing. “Are you happy?”

The question hit you like a stray gust of wind, sudden and disarming.

“Of course,” you replied, the words tumbling out too fast, too practiced. “Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

Natasha raised a single, elegant eyebrow, the expression laced with skepticism. “Because I can tell when you’re lying,” she said plainly, her tone cutting through your defenses like a knife through butter.

Your shoulders slumped slightly as you leaned against the countertop. The calm surface grounded you, though it couldn’t stop the swirl of emotions rising in your chest. “It’s just hard sometimes,” you admitted quietly, almost to yourself.

Her gaze softened, the sharp edges of her wit giving way to something warmer, something more tender. “Yeah, I know,” she murmured.

She set down the beer can she’d been holding, the metallic clink almost imperceptible under the weight of her words. Her fingers drummed on the countertop; the rhythm was uneven, nearly hesitant, as if her thoughts were tangled in the silence between you. The crimson polish on her nails caught the dim light, matching the glow in her eyes as she studied you.

“Sometimes,” she began, her voice barely audible, “I think we forget we’re allowed to want more.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the implication hanging like unspoken truths. You glanced back toward the stairs, where laughter and music blasted above you, but it felt a world away from this moment.

“And what if we can’t have more?” you asked, your voice trembling just enough to betray the depth of the question.

Natasha’s lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. “Then maybe we take what we can get,” she said softly, her eyes never leaving yours. Before you could respond, Natasha's lips were on yours. Soft. Warm. Inviting. Her arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat radiating from her body.

A quiet moan escaped her, muffled against your mouth, and you could taste the sweetness of the beer lingering on her tongue. You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the warmth of her touch, in the familiar scent of her perfume. Your mind raced, and yet your thoughts were perfectly still. Her body was so different. Her touch was so different.

A loud thump, followed by the unmistakable sound of laughter, cut through the air. Then a cry and a scream of "Mama" followed. Natasha pulled away quickly, her face flushed, her breathing uneven. You glanced at the ceiling, the spell between you broken. That was the cry of your child.

"I should probably go and check on her," You said while Natasha spoke.

"We should probably get back," Natasha murmured.

You nodded, unable to meet her eyes. Wiping your mouth, you glanced back at her before heading upstairs.

*****

You could smell the firecrackers before you saw them, the sharp scent of smoke mingling with the sweet smell of hamburgers grilling. Claire sat in your lap, the three-year-old tired and sleepy from all the excitement. You couldn't blame her after the day chasing the other kids around the house.

Claire leaned her head against your chest, her eyes heavy with sleep. You rubbed her back absently, smiling at how her small hand curled around yours.

The sky was dark, but the backyard was lit by the string lights draped over the trees and the fireworks in the sky. You were amazed at how she could sleep through this. Sam sat next to you in the grass, his arms wrapped around your waist and his hands rubbing your side. He felt at home.

Briefly, you could see a flash of the light catching across a couple, and your eyes moved towards them. It was Natasha and Steve. He stood almost a foot taller than her, his arms wrapped around her midsection as she leaned back into his chest. They looked comfortable like they belonged together. How their bodies seemed to mold into each other was the kind of thing romance novels talked about.

They were so beautiful together.

The thought made you uneasy.

Sam leaned over and whispered in your ear, his breath warm on your skin. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," you murmured, leaning into him. "Just a bit tired. She's a heavy sleeper."

He chuckled softly, his hand reaching up to caress your cheek. His thumb brushed your skin, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation.

"You know, it's our anniversary tomorrow," He said, his tone casual, but the meaning behind his words clear.

"Oh," you said, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice.

"Yeah, five years," he smiled.

"Wow, I can't believe it's been that long," you admitted.

"Me neither," he grinned, kissing your lips softly. You couldn't see Natasha's eyes on the two of you.

Sam looked up and noticed the fireworks lighting the sky. He nudged Claire and whispered, "Come on, sweetheart. You're going to miss the fireworks."

Claire lifted her head, blinking blearily. "No, Daddy. I'm sleepy," she whined.

"Come on, pumpkin. Let's watch the show," Sam coaxed, his voice gentle and coaxing. Claire groaned softly but let Sam lift her into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, her tiny hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. “Alright, pumpkin,” he said with a chuckle, “just for a little while.”

You watched them walk toward the edge of the patio, where the first bursts of fireworks lit up the night sky. Claire’s sleepy eyes reflected the vibrant colors as she yawned against her daddy's chest.

Five years. It was a long time. You'd built a life together. One you were proud of. One you were comfortable with.

Your eyes drifted to the couple again, and your chest tightened. Natasha and Steve looked so natural together. So at ease. And then there was you, feeling like an imposter. You weren’t the girl Sam fell in love with anymore. You weren't the one who wanted all the same things he did. And you couldn't tell him. You couldn't shatter his image of you.

Sam whispered something into Claire's ear, lifting her head to look at you.

"Mama, come watch."

"In a minute, baby," you called, your voice thick with emotion.

You swallowed hard, trying to fight back the tears. How could you be so selfish? Sam had given you everything. He had given you Claire. You were blessed, yet you couldn't seem content with what you had.

Natasha echoed in your mind: Sometimes we forget we're allowed to want more.

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

Tuesdays were sacred. At exactly 12:30, without fail, Natasha would appear at your front door, her heels clicking softly against the pavement as she walked the three doors down. By the time the clock struck the half-hour, you would already have the kettle whistling on the stove and the good china laid out.

It started as a casual thing—a neighborly gesture during those quiet, lonesome afternoons when the house felt too big and Sam was at work. But over time, it became something more. A ritual. A promise.

This Tuesday was no different. You were finishing the vacuuming when you heard Claire shriek with laughter from the living room. You smiled to yourself, knowing what that meant.

You rounded the corner, the vacuum still humming, and saw Claire spinning in circles as Natasha crouched down to her level, a broad smile on her perfectly painted red lips.

“She’s getting good at this,” Natasha teased, catching Claire mid-spin and lifting her off the ground.

“Too good,” you replied, switching off the vacuum and leaning against the doorway. “She’s going to join the circus at this rate.”

Natasha laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Her gaze traveled to the hallway and the bags of groceries waiting by the front door.

"Let me help," She said, setting Claire back on the floor.

"Thanks," you murmured, grabbing the nearest bag. "I don't know why I let Sam talk me into doing this today."

"Probably the same reason I let Steve convince me to get the new patio furniture," Natasha chuckled, following you into the kitchen.

"He can be persuasive, can't he?"

"Yeah, yeah, he can," She agreed, her tone wistful.

"It's not a bad thing," You said, placing the bags on the counter.

"Tasha, come play," Claire begged.

"In a minute, little one," Natasha promised. Claire nodded and rushed back into the den with her toys.

"How about some tea?" You offered.

"You read my mind," Natasha smiled.

You took the teapot from the cupboard and filled it with water, watching as the steam rose from the spout. Your thoughts drifted back to that night in the basement, and you wondered if Natasha felt the same. There had been many nights like that. Many shared kisses. Shared looks. You think back to that night months again when you'd given her her first orgasm at the hands of a woman.

It was a moment that changed things. It was the moment you knew you were done pretending.

"I'm glad we have this," Natasha murmured.

"Tea?"

"No, silly. Time." She turned to look at you, her green eyes softening. "I'm glad we have this. This friendship."

You couldn't help but smile. "Me, too."

"So," Natasha said, leaning against the counter and folding her arms over her chest, "how are things going with you and Sam?"

You shrugged. "Good."

"That's all you're going to give me?" She prodded, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"There's not much to tell," you admitted.

"You guys had an anniversary a few nights ago," Natasha reminded you.

"Do we discuss the juicy details like that still?"

Natasha hesitated, then shook her head. "No, but I'm asking because I care about you, and I know Sam has been a bit persistent about the baby thing."

You sighed, turning back to the stove. You were silent.

"I'm sorry," Natasha said quietly. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No, no, it's fine," you assured her. "It's just..."

"Just what?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, it's just me," Natasha reminded you gently, reaching out to touch your arm. "You can tell me anything."

You hesitated, then blurted out, "What are we doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Us," you said, gesturing between the two of you. "What are we doing? Is this just a...thing?"

Natasha blinked, her expression unreadable. "A thing?"

"Yeah, like, I don't know, an escape or something," you tried to explain. "Like, a distraction."

Natasha shook her head slowly. "No, no, I wouldn't say that."

"Then what would you say?"

"I'd say that I enjoy spending time with you. I'd say that you're a beautiful, smart, funny woman, and I'm lucky to call you a friend."

"But what does that mean?"

Natasha stepped closer, her hand moving from your arm to the small of your back. Her gaze never left yours, her eyes searching for an answer to a question she couldn't quite voice.

"It means that I care about you," she said softly. "And if you ever need a distraction, I'm here."

"What if I don't want a distraction?" You breathed.

"What do you want?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You didn't answer. Instead, you pulled her across the kitchen to the laundry room. You left the door open to hear Claire in case she needed you. In an instant, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to hers, kissing her like it was the last time.

She kissed you back, her hands resting on your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. Her tongue parted your lips, and you tasted the sweetness of her breath. Her hands moved lower, sliding over your curves, and you moaned softly against her mouth.

"Tasha," You gasped as her fingers traced the waistband of your jeans, her touch burning hot against your skin.

She broke the kiss, her eyes dark and hooded. "Yes?"

"I want you."

"I'm yours."

Her lips crashed against yours, and her hands fumbled with the button of your jeans, her touch making your skin tingle.

"Tasha, we can't Claire's here." You reminded her between kisses.

"She's playing," Natasha muttered, her fingers finally popping the button. Before either of you could ponder her statement, the front door opened. In a flash, Natasha was in the kitchen, pushing the rest of the groceries into the fridge as you attempted to gather your bearings. She was so fast.

"Hello?" Sam's voice called from the foyer.

"We're in the kitchen," You answered, closing the laundry room door and ensuring it was locked.

Sam walked into the kitchen, his suit jacket draped over his arm and his tie loosened. "Hey," he smiled. "I thought I'd surprise you guys."

"Well, it worked," Natasha laughed.

"Sorry, I forgot my lunch. I'll grab it and head out," Sam said, moving past the two of you. He glanced between you, his gaze lingering on your face.

"I'm going to finish the dishes," You murmured, turning away.

Sam stopped and frowned. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just feeling a little tired."

"You should rest," Sam stepped closer to you. "Have a cup of tea?

"I will."

"Good," Sam leaned forward and kissed your cheek. "Love you."

"I love you too," You said, the words coming out automatically. Sam lingered, landing another sweet kiss on your lips.

Natasha looked over her shoulder at you, her expression unreadable. "Sam, before you go, can I ask a favor?"

"Of course."

"Can I borrow a screwdriver? We're working on the deck chairs, and one of the bolts keeps slipping," She explained, her voice surprisingly steady.

"Sure, no problem," Sam said, digging through a drawer. He pulled out a screwdriver and handed it to Natasha. "Here you go."

"Thanks," Natasha smiled. "Oh, and before I forget, I'll have those pictures of Claire for you next week."

"Thanks," Sam replied. "And thanks for keeping them company."

"My pleasure," Natasha grinned.

"Okay, I'm heading back out. See you later, baby," Sam kissed you once more before disappearing into the foyer. The front door opened, then shut, leaving the house strangely empty.

"That was close," Natasha said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "Yeah, it was," you agreed. "But it was worth it."

"Do you regret it?"

"No," you said without hesitation.

"Me neither," She murmured, stepping closer.

You leaned into her, resting your head against her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. "Tasha?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being there. For being my friend. For just being...you."

Natasha hugged you, her arms wrapping around your waist and her chin resting on your head. "Anytime," she said softly, and you knew she meant it.

*****

Drive-In Night was interesting. It's a couple's night, truly. The four of you would get together and watch whatever movie was playing. This time, it was How to Marry A Millionaire. You all piled into Steve’s car, a vintage Chevy that seemed as timeless as its owner. It was a tight fit, but no one complained. The air buzzed with the crowd's excitement as headlights flickered across the makeshift parking lot of the drive-in theater.

Natasha sat into the passenger seat, leaning her elbow out the window, her eyes scanning the packed lot with a subtle smirk. “I’m impressed, Rogers. Didn’t think you’d show up for something so… pink.”

Steve laughed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “What can I say? I’m broadening my horizons.”

From the backseat, you chuckled. “You mean Natasha dragged you here, didn’t she?”

“Guilty,” Steve admitted, glancing sideways at Natasha, who simply shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like Sam and I had a choice.”

Sam, beside you, snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Real gentlemen, right?” He stretched his arm along the back of the seat, pulling you closer. “But hey, don’t think I’m above enjoying a rom-com. I’ve got range.”

Natasha tilted her head back, laughing. “Sure, Wilson. You’ll be crying by the second act.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Sam fired back, grinning.

You rolled your eyes fondly. They constantly bickered like this, but it was good-natured. You could tell they were friends. Real friends.

The movie began, and the warm glow of the screen washed over the car. The plot unfolded with charm, full of meet-cutes, sassy best friends, and conveniently timed rainstorms. It wasn’t bad, but you couldn’t help but notice Sam shifting every so often, clearly restless.

“Alright,” Sam announced midway through a particularly swoony montage. “Steve, snacks?”

Steve glanced at Natasha, who was far too engrossed in the movie to notice him leaving. “Yeah, good idea. You girls want anything?”

You and Natasha exchanged a look. “Popcorn,” you both said in unison.

Sam and Steve left the car, their silhouettes fading into the crowd as they made their way to the concession stand. Moving closer to the front seat, you shifted and settled comfortably against the backrest.

Natasha glanced over her shoulder, a smile playing on her lips.

You smiled back.

The moment passed.

"You're so far away," You whispered.

"I know," she whispered back, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. "Come closer," She whispered. You climbed into the front seat, quickly glancing at the long concession line.

"Is this better?" You asked, settling in.

"Much," she said, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Your breath caught in your throat.

"You're cute," She said. What she was doing was risky business. While it was dark, anyone with eyes and the guts to look your way could see.

"So are you," You responded.

"I want to kiss you."

"You do?"

"I do."

"I want to fuck you," She said.

Your heart hammered in your chest, the heat between your thighs growing with each passing second. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You leaned in. Her hand rested on your thigh, rubbing you through your skirt. "Tasha," you whimpered.

"Yes, kitten," she whispered.

"We can't"

"Why not?"

"It's too risky."

"No one's looking."

"What about Sam and Steve?"

"They're at the concession stand. And the movie is loud."

"But what if someone hears?"

"We'll be quiet."

"We've never been quiet," You giggled.

"We'll try," she whispered. She knew she didn't have much time. She needed this to happen and fast. Her hand slipped under your skirt, and she felt the dampness of your panties.

"Jesus, you're soaked."

"I can't help it."

"Neither can I."

She slid her hand down, pushed your panties aside, and plunged her fingers inside you. Your hips bucked, and you bit back a moan.

"So tight," She moaned.

"So good," You whimpered. She was an expert by now. She knew your body well and learned how to make you cum.

She fucked you hard and fast, her fingers hitting all the right spots. She was gentle while somehow being able to get you there so quickly. You couldn't moan or tell her how close you were. You couldn't even thrust into her fingers. You could only sit there and take it. Your face remained natural even as you closed your eyes. The pleasure was too intense, and you wanted to focus on it. You wanted to savor every second.

When you came, you bit down on your lip, drawing blood. Natasha watched you come undone under her hand.

"You are perfect," She whispered, leaning in and kissing your cheek. You were a trembling mess.

"Tasha," You breathed, trying to catch your breath.

"I can't wait to do that again," She said.

"Me too."

She kissed your cheek once more before sitting back.

You were her best secret.

[sen-thebootmutt]

This post is now two years old, and things have only gotten worse.

Fascists are more emboldened, and more and more trans people—Black trans people specifically—are being killed year on year. 25 states now have restrictions or bans on gender affirming care for trans youth, and some states extend that to trans adults under certain ages, or restrict state medical insurance from covering care. The 2024 Defense Authorization Act banned military insurance from covering care for minors—that’s a federal ban!! The UK has banned the prescription of hormone suppressing medication for all youth nationwide indefinitely. Hate crimes against trans and queer people are on the rise, according to FBI Uniform Crime Statistics. Trans people are getting death threats—online and in life—daily.

Meanwhile, y’all keep doing the same discourse routines. He/him lesbians, “weird” fetishes in the trans community, white lesbians calling themselves “studs,” neopronouns, who’s “trans enough,” shifting norms of language.

Stop it. Just stop.

We are being killed. We are dying. Our Black sisters and brothers and siblings are Dying. Our immigrant siblings are Dying. Our Native siblings are Dying. Our poor siblings are Dying.

Our Children.

Are.

Dying.

And the people killing us, killing them, are laughing.

None of y’all are angry enough. These people have names and address, and none of y’all are angry enough. The people we thought would come to our aid abandoned us, and none of y’all are angry enough.

Y’all love to talk about queer and trans history, but forget the most important part. When the state, corporations, street gangs, put their boots on your neck,

You.

Fight.

Back.

You big up coins, then bricks, and you throw the fucking things. You march in the street, get arrested, storm churches, occupy government offices, shout down politicians, interrupt proceedings.

When AIDS was rampaging through our community unchecked, ActUp occupied the NIH. They did die-ins at the CDC, St. Patrick’s Cathedral, the Capitol building. They organized research groups, smuggled drugs across boarders, created underground pharmacies. Groups like Samois and STAR gave food, clothes, and homes to abandoned youth, collected the property and stories of people killed by AIDS before their families or the state could kill them again, led massive street protests to spit in the face of repression. When cops raided our bars, it didn’t matter if you were Black or white, gay or lesbian, butch or femme, cis or trans. Everyone stood up and fought back, in the ways they could.

So, no. I won’t be engaging in your petty discourse about what kinks are okay for trans folks to have, or what a “real trans woman” looks like, or whatever. And no, I don’t think you’re “keeping community alive” with your little discord server movie nights.

Are you in the street? Are you helping feed and cloth the queer kids on your streets? Are you learning how to stockpile HRT so you can distribute it when it becomes illegal? Are you keeping cops and fascists out of our bars and clubs and music venues?

It’s time to put up or shut up, y’all. Drop the discourse. Build your community. Gather your resources. Train to protect yourself and your people. Fight like hell. And yeah, you might end up with a bi lesbian and a trans girl with a weird kink. But those things can be talked about after we’ve won our liberation, because they’re just distractions until then.

While you were bickering about bi lesbians online, Amarey Lej, 21, was murdered.

While you were arguing about neo-pronouns, Duvall Princess, 24, was murdered.

While you were sending "fuck off TERF" memes on anon, Matt Spampanito, 21, was murdered.

While you were sending death threats to people creating pride flags for neo-genders, Naomi Skinner, 24, was murdered.

While you were "discoursing" about butch/femme being a product of patriarchy, Cyprus Ramos, 21, was murdered.

STOP. THIS. SHIT.

Why are we having petty online arguments and sending death threats to other queer people over THIS SHIT?!

There is an active genocidal campaign against trans people around the world right now. 55 trans people were murdered in the US last year. Fascists want us dead. Queer rights are being reversed and repealed worldwide. Fascist street gangs are bringing loaded guns to gay bars and public libraries and bakeries. Trans kids are having their healthcare stripped away As We Speak, leading more and more kids to die by suicide. Drag performers are targeted as "pedophiles," queer youth are forcibly outted in schools and churches and in Fucking PUBLIC.

Queer infighting will not save us. Online discourse will not save us. Your anonymous asks and Twitter DMs and Facebook posts will not save us.

And if we keep doing this shit?

The fascists win. They win. We lose. And we die.

Simple as that.

[twopoppies]

I’ve been in this fandom for a few years and i’m still here because i love some aspects of it but what i’ve been really struggling with and what annoys the shit out of me about being a part of a fandom (and it’s obviously present in every fandom not just this) is how far up someone’s ass people can be, it’s so ridiculous. Fans genuinely believe their fav can do no wrong, their fav never not once lied in their life, if they did something questionable then it’s justified. But this way of thinking is insane to me. The amount of comments i see about the blocking situation in particular that are like “i can’t imagine the horrible things you must say for Louis to block you!”, “if he did it then it’s deserved!”. Yes, because Louis is an angelic little thing known for never throwing tantrums out of nowhere, it never happened, sure. Solos feeling the need to defend his honour all the time is so parasocial as well. Saw someone with a hate tweet saying “I don’t hate on larries, i just stand by Louis standing up for himself and his family!!” What even?? They’re really fighting some kind of holy war in their imagination. Not to mention blindly adoring his entire family for no reason and calling them victims of “vile horrible fans” (larries) because “they should be able to share the children on the internet like everyone else!” Should they? Maybe let’s put our thinking caps on! So the point is this part of fandom culture is insane to me and i will never be able to take it seriously i fear

Yep. Totally agree. And I don’t understand it.

I know it happens with Harry, too. But the wild thing is that people feel justified calling him out/holding him accountable. And you’ll barely get any pushback when you do. Interestingly, what you’ll get criticized for is defending him. It’s the complete opposite with Louis.

Obviously there are blips of support/attack in the reverse on either side. But that’s been my experience as a whole.

The habit of fans just swallowing the narrative hook, line, and sinker is so aggravating. It’s like no one has any media literacy. No one thinks for themselves. And no one cares to look at anything drier than surface level.

[shorthaltsjester]

me as an imogen’s selfishness built from her isolation is one of the most interesting things about her truther (which, before someone vagues me on twitter . i don’t think this doesn’t mean she can’t and hasn’t been altruistic but that’s a separate post) + someone who loves when my favourite characters have their lives threatened and/or they die. i am eating well after last night’s ep.

as someone who cares for the world of exandria and despises everytime ashton opens his mouth about the gods and clocked into ashton and ludinus wearing the same hat a while ago . having to listen to them talk about how they’re better than ludinus because (checks notes) they want to do exactly what ludinus wants to but their motives (the exact same kind of trauma that made him tell ludinus to “grow up” . me BEGGING him to take his own advice) are better ??? i’m not eating as well but what can you do.

my grip on this campaign as a completionist who Is enjoying cr even if i don’t think this is a particularly strong campaign is truly resting on the shoulders of imogen impulsive-and-single-minded temult, fearne “if the world’s burning i want a front row seat” calloway, orym “only member of the group capable of a thought for the ‘little guys’ the party claims to stand for” of the air ashari, and chet who is there for vibes (and to protect his family). also shout out to braius for joining the one party where betraying them would make him easily break into the top 3 morally upstanding members of the party.

[pathological-runaway]

“Isle? But it’s so… empty.” You spend the next three hours wandering aimlessly across the sand dunes looking for anything that could make anyone prefer Isle to Prairie or Valley or even Wasteland. You get liking a place for its beauty or for its charm, and you almost understand enjoying it because of danger. But liking something that’s so empty, just sand and broken boats? It’s beyond your comprehension. The mystery of loving Isle of Dawn doesn’t leave your mind for days, yet, despite all your efforts, you don’t see what’s so special about the lifeless desert.

read the fic here or below the cut

“You alright?” they ask, sitting down on a bench. It’s nice to finally have a chance to talk to them.

“Yeah. Thanks for helping me.”

“You’re welcome!”

A pause. You should say something. You really should. But what?

“What’s your favourite realm?” you ask because you don't know any other way to keep a conversation going.

“Isle of Dawn.”

You’re confused.

“Isle? But it’s so… empty.”

They shrug.

“A little. But it’s nice.”

You spend the next three hours wandering aimlessly across the sand dunes looking for anything that could make anyone prefer Isle to Prairie or Valley or even Wasteland. You get liking a place for its beauty or for its charm, and you almost understand enjoying it because of danger. But liking something that’s so empty, just sand and broken boats? It’s beyond your comprehension.

Sure, the sunrise looks nice, but there’s not much to it, especially after you’ve seen it a couple of times.

You return to the village, confused.

***

The mystery of loving Isle of Dawn doesn’t leave your mind for days, yet, despite all your efforts, you don’t see what’s so special about the lifeless desert.

***

“What’s up, little one? You seem down. Is everything alright?”

You sip your juice sadly.

“Thanks, Candlemaker, I’m fine. I’m just thinking.”

The spirit sits down next to you, a radiant smile on their face. They’re kind and warm and it makes you a little sad for some reason. It would be nice to have someone this kind by your side all the time. But they’re a spirit, they stay in Aviary and never travel anywhere other than the starry sky. They have a family there, you recall. A partner and a child.

Their child is lucky to have a parent like them.

“Anything I can help you with?” they ask.

“I don’t know. About a week ago, someone told me their favourite place was Isle, but I don’t understand why. There’s nothing there but sand.”

Pointing Candlemaker thinks for a while, tapping their fingers on the counter.

“Well, Isle hasn’t always been like this, you know.”

For some reason, you've never thought of this. It’s easy to picture Prairie with all the buildings intact, or Valley in its past glory. Even Wasteland keeps traces of what was there before the world ended.

But Isle?

“It wasn’t?” you ask incredulously.

Candlemaker shifts in their seat to get more comfortable.

“Oh, you would’ve loved what it looked like before…” they start, and it seems that they’re never going to stop.

You listen to them carefully for an entire hour until you fall asleep to the rhythm of their voice.

You dream of starry nights and flowers and lying in soft grass.

***

You visit Isle again the day after. It's still empty, but if you look closely, your imagination paints a picture over the empty hills.

You see grass, just like that growing near the Temple. You see flowers — they’re neither big nor very bright, but their soft hues are beautiful, and you never expected this beauty to be hidden right here. You feel a cool summer breeze coming from the endless sea and hear a tinkle of bells in the distance.

You still think Isle is empty, but it’s good to know there’s more to it than you previously thought.

***

You’re lying in the grass on the roof of the Nesting shop, trying to discern a constellation in the sky. It’s tricky.

“Looking at the stars?” you hear a voice and sit up.

“Yeah…” you reply shyly.

“Is it alright if I join?” they ask, their eyes shining.

“It is. But, uhm… I think I’m bad at this,” you confess, fidgeting with your hands, “I haven’t found a single constellation yet.”

“Oh, it’s OK! I could show you if you want! It took me a while to learn to notice them, too.”

The smile on their face is so big you start smiling as well.

“Thank you. It would be great.”

You both lie down and study the stars. After some time, you ask:

“Stargazer, can you tell me about Isle?”

And they do.

You listen attentively and when you return to your nest, you think of vast seas and shooting stars and sitting quietly at the shore.

***

You go to Isle again and sit down on a stone, contemplating the ocean. When you close your eyes, you can picture a landscape so pretty you wish you could stay there forever.

You see waves kissing the sand on the coast. You hear birds singing nearby and a child laughing by your side. You imagine them playing with small rocks and building a tower. You feel a chilly wind coming from behind you as the sun goes down.

When you open your eyes, Isle is so painfully empty you consider never returning.

***

“Wow, that looks heavy! Mind if I help?”

You nod, and the spirit takes half of the boxes.

“Thanks, Voyager,” you breathe out.

“No problems, mate. Where are you taking all this stuff?”

“Harmony Hall. Frantic Stagehand asked me to collect all the instruments from the Concert Hall to get them checked. I guess I overestimated my muscles,” you add as your whole body screams at you.

“No worries kid, it happens. Let’s get going before you get arthritis or something.”

You start arguing that it isn’t actually how you get arthritis and that you’re too young anyway, and they laugh.

“I know, I know. Just kidding. Don't take it too seriously. Come on, no dawdling!”

When all the boxes are in their place, you don’t want to say goodbye just yet.

“Voyager, do you have anything nice to tell me about Isle of Dawn?”

They do. You sit down on the bench in the hall and listen to them talk, while some younger kids practice music clumsily in the background.

As you teach a little mothling how to hold the guitar correctly, you ponder on flying boats and birds and believing in a brighter future.

***

You come to Isle once again when you have time. You fly all the way to the Temple and look down at the desert. If you look closely, you notice things you’ve never paid attention to.

You see flying boats, big and majestic, carrying people to where you’re standing. You see kids playing, adults chatting, happy and enthusiastic and looking forward to arriving wherever they’re going. You hear birds chirping happily and guiding the travellers. The wind is rising. You see mantas flying — funny how you didn’t even know there were mantas is Isle.

There are no more.

A tear runs down your face. Isle is so empty now. So, so empty.

***

You sit by the bonfire with Passage Guide, Tumbling Troublemaker and a few mothlings. The marshmallows are tasty and the stories everyone’s telling are fun.

Oddball Outcast accidentally throws their ball into the fire, and everyone’s laughing while Passage Guide is indignant. You know they’re not actually angry.

You’re laughing along as you realise Isle has never been empty. You just couldn’t see it.

***

“I always get lost in these dunes,” your mothling says, frustrated.

“Don’t worry, you’ll memorise the path one day,” you pat them on the shoulder.

Have kids always been so small?

“I hope so. Thanks for guiding me.”

You smile at them.

“Oh, no problem! I like helping people out! The next one’s on the ledge.”

You land near the light and wait for the mothling to collect it.

“Do we have to do this every time?”

“Yes. It gets easier after a few tries though.”

They don’t look encouraged.

“Hey,” you say, getting down on one knee to look them in the face, “everyone moves at their own pace. It’s alright to learn things slowly. Stars, you can’t even imagine how lost I was at the beginning. I refused to leave Forest because I’d seen a red shard behind the Temple and though it was what Valley was like!”

You laugh, and the kid smiles.

“That’s silly.”

“Yeah. But it’s more fun this way, isn’t it?”

They think for some time.

“I suppose it is.”

And then,

“What’s your favourite realm?”

You can’t help but laugh again. Oh, what a mothling thing to ask!

They remind you of yourself, in a way. Young, innocent, and having no idea how to keep a conversation going.

“Isle of Dawn,” you reply after a bit.

They frown.

“Isle? But it’s so… empty.”

You smile and close your eyes.

“A little. But it’s nice.”

___

if you enjoyed this one, don't hesitate to drop a kudos or a comment here or check out my other fics. thanks for reading and have an amazing day!

[trustmypoison]

LMLY - Act Two

Choi Y/N hasn’t seen her long lost best friend Yoon Jeonghan in four years and doesn’t even recognize at first him when paramedics roll him into the OR after a motorcycle accident during her shift. She kind of expects to go back being total strangers as soon as he’s discharged, but Seungcheol has something to say about that when he asks them to be Best Man and Maid of Honor for his wedding. 

You can find the masterlist here.

LMLY is the sequel to Calico. You don’t need to read Calico to follow along with most of this story, but it will make things more enjoyable if you do. 

Genres: fluff; angst; smut; best friends to strangers to lovers; wedding au

Pairing: Jeonghan x female reader

TW/CW: MDNI, contains explicit smut, some tough family dynamics such as divorce, a lot of marriage and wedding talk, mentions of having children, mentions of depression, mentions of manipulative relationships, quite a few details about accidents and subsequent medical procedures and issues. 

A/N: I am not in the medical field, so please forgive any inaccuracies included in this story. 

Word count: 20k

This is a repost of a previous fic I did. It was one of the first fics that I ever posted on here and I wish I had made some different choices aesthetically. The content will be the same, it will just be a little prettier and more readable.

The first step according to Byeol and Y/N is to pick a venue and book the date they want. They already have a list that Seungcheol and Jeonghan just kind of skim. Seungcheol doesn’t care where they have the wedding and money isn’t really a problem. The top of their list contains a few churches and a winery locally that interest Byeol, and the two women spend hours pouring over pictures online of each venue. 

Seungcheol mentions a destination wedding and Byeol’s eyes light up, before they dim again. She doesn’t come from money and the idea of splurging like that is something she usually declines outright. Seungcheol struggles to get her to understand that he doesn’t care to spend quite literally any amount on her. He’s struggled lovingly with this for years, gifting her luxury bags and new electronics, and even a car recently. She’d only accepted any of those because he wouldn’t back down and her junky care was becoming dangerous to drive. “Baby, I promise I won’t mind a destination wedding. I just want you to enjoy our wedding, no matter the cost,” Seungcheol insists. 

Byeol pouts and Seungcheol is all over her immediately. Jeonghan wants to tease him for it, but he’s happy that his friend is in love, particularly with someone as kindhearted as Byeol. Byeol has never abused the power that she has over Seungcheol. “I know, but I’ll enjoy our wedding even if we get married in the church down the street. I don’t care about all the frills.” 

“I know you don’t, but just think about it. Put a few ideas on the list at least.”

So that’s how Italy, France, and Greece end up on the list. They’re places that Byeol has never been and would love to visit. Seungcheol bites his tongue to resist the urge to argue that they can just go anytime and it doesn’t have to be a special occasion. 

The following weekend, the four of them visit the local churches for a tour and Byeol admits that it’s not quite what she wants. 

So the weekend after that, they decide to take an overnight trip to the winery. Jeonghan and Y/N are in the back seat again and they make it their goal to annoy Seungcheol until he can’t stand them anymore. Byeol cackles when Seungcheol groans, “Maybe you two should go back to not being friends again. My life was really peaceful then.”

“Not a chance, Cheol,” Jeonghan insists. 

“You’re stuck with us forever,” Y/N adds. Seungcheol turns up the music so he can’t hear them, but Jeonghan can see the small smile he’s wearing in the rearview mirror.

The winery has a bed and breakfast attached to it. It’s small, but it would be enough for the wedding party to stay and get ready at if they rented out the whole place. Y/N and Jeonghan had insisted that they don’t need separate rooms for the single night, so they drop their suitcases in the room and flop on the bed. Well - Y/N flops, but Jeonghan careful lays down because of his sore ribs. 

“This is nice,” Y/N comments dreamily. 

Jeonghan agrees. There’s something old about it’s design but there’s also something cozy about it. There’s a fire place in the room that Jeonghan kind of wants to have a drink in front of later tonight. And the view is nice outside. He actually never wants to leave. “I don’t think she’ll pick it though,” Jeonghan lamented. 

Y/N snorts. “I don’t think so either. She keeps looking at pictures of Greece. I hope you have your passport ready.”

“Well, let’s just enjoy the free trip on Seungcheol’s dime then,” Jeonghan joked sitting up. “Come on, let’s wander around. I can’t just lay around anymore.”

She and Jeonghan take the tour and then sit on the large patio of the bed and breakfast, drinking wine all afternoon. Jeonghan thinks the countryside is good for Y/N. She’s got a bit of that sparkle back when she smiles, shoulders relaxed, and it makes him feel warm inside. He was always worried about her but ever since they’ve become friends again he sees how reserved she’s become. She used to smile so openly and he hasn’t seen it much in the last two months. He’s grinning widely at her as she giggles into her wine glass when Seungcheol and Byeol find them around dinner time. Seungcheol asks, “Are we interrupting something?”

Jeonghan narrows his eyes at Cheol’s tone, but Y/N seems none the wiser to whatever her brother is implying. “You guys have to try this wine. It’s so good!”

Over dinner, Byeol quietly admits this isn’t quite the place that she had in mind, but they all decide to enjoy the night anyway. After a few too many bottles of wine, the four of them stumble up to their rooms. Y/N and Jeonghan change into their pajamas and sit on the couch with one more bottle of wine to share. The air is cozy as they both drink and watch the fire crackle. 

For a change, it’s Y/N that’s leaning against Jeonghan. He knows if she hadn’t of had so much to drink, she’d be more cautious about his chest, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that it’s a little uncomfortable. She so rarely let her hair down like this before the space they had over the years, and it certainly seems like she doesn’t relax much now. He didn’t want to discourage it when she plopped down next to him, curled up, and leaned close like it was the most natural thing in the world for her to do. 

“I could get married here,” Y/N said, but her words run together a bit. 

Jeonghan smiles. “I could too. Feel okay?” Y/N nods into his chest, letting out a single hiccup. Jeonghan laughs, taking the wine glass from her to set aside. “Okay, I think it’s time to stop for the night.”

“But it’s good. And I feel good,” her voice adopts a bit of a whine and Jeonghan can’t help but pinch her flushed cheeks. 

“I know, angel. I just don’t want you to feel sick tomorrow. We have to drive home in the afternoon,” he says, watching as she props her chin on his shoulder. Her eyes are abnormally bright as she blinks at him and her face is so close to his. Still, he keeps looking at her. 

“I guess so,” she finally sighs, then hiccups again, looking around the room. “I really like it here.” 

“Kind of romantic, isn’t it?” Jeonghan teases. He’s sure that’s why she likes it so much. She doesn’t seem interested in pursuing romance anymore but he knows a vibe like this will always be a soft spot for her. 

Y/N gives him a cheesy smile. “Yeah, it’s nice. Don’t you think?” 

Jeonghan thinks he’d agree to anything with the way she’s looking at him right now. It’s so innocent and warm, without an ounce of manipulation like he was used to for the last five years, and he realizes just how much he missed this, or missed her, rather. “It’s nice. Kind of don’t want to leave tomorrow.”

Y/N hums, chin back on his shoulder. “Do you remember when were 16?” 

“You’ll have to be more specific. That was a whole year, angel,” Jeonghan teases the random question. 

She shoves his shoulder lightly before putting her chin down again. “I’m thinking about the stupid marriage pact we made.” 

Jeonghan chuckles. “I’d totally forgotten about that.”

One night, just a few days after she’d been brought back from boarding school, Y/N had witnessed a nasty fight between her mom and dad, specifically about how Y/N’s new stepmom, Nari, was treating her. Her parents’ divorce the year before had shattered her image of love and marriage because it had come out of left field for her. Ultimately, this fight would lead to a change in custody and a bitter relationship between her parents. The animosity was hard for her to stomach because she always saw the best in things, but there was really no positive to the situation. 

That night, she was hiding out at Jeonghan’s because that’s what she did a lot back then. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be with anyone, much less get married. Not if it can end up like that,” she had sighed, rubbing her red eyes. 

Jeonghan was sitting on the floor next to her with their backs against the bed, an arm thrown around her. She rarely cried, but he hated it more than anything. If he held her like this then he didn’t have to look at her and the pangs in his chest weren’t so intense. “That’s not true. You just have to be patient. And love doesn’t have to look like that.”

Y/N had let out a little humph sound. “I don’t know. Can’t I just marry you?” She laughs but it’s a miserable sound. “At least we get each other. I can’t imagine we’d ever be that cruel to one another.”

Jeonghan remembered how his heart had pounded, despite the serious topic. “I guess you could. We could make one of those lame deals where if we’re still single at 30, we’ll just get married.”

Y/N had snorted and Jeonghan had been elated that her mood seemed to lift a bit. “Would you want that? I might hold you up to your end of the bargain in about 15 years.” Her voice is teasing. 

Jeonghan had shrugged though the answer was obvious to him even at 16. “Yeah. Who wouldn’t want to marry their best friend? Isn’t that ideal?”

Back in the present, Y/N giggles. “Do you regret that now? Time is almost up.”

Jeonghan laughs. “No, why would I regret that? I meant it, who wouldn’t want to marry their best friend?” He can’t forget the irony that he didn’t want to marry Sora just a couple months ago…. But Sora was never his best friend, or really a friend at all. She’d always been his girlfriend and the connection was just not the same. 

Y/N hums. “I don’t know. I don’t have the best track record.” 

“That doesn’t matter to me, Y/N. I told you back then that it didn’t,” Jeonghan admonished. 

Y/N looks at him with wide eyes and he’s transfixed. She’s not subtle about looking down at his lips and he knows he should stop her. But then she’s leaning in and he’s kissing her back immediately. It’s so much better than when they were teenagers and he’d loved that back then too. This kiss lacks the nervousness that the first one years ago did. His hand cups her face and she sighs into the kiss. The feeling and sound makes Jeonghan’s heart race. However, it’s like a bucket of ice water over his head when her tongue swipes at his lips. He pulls away but doesn’t let go of her face yet. She’s gotten the wrong idea and she looks alarmed, covering her mouth. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

Jeonghan can’t help but try to quell her panic a bit. He hates the wild look in her eyes when she did nothing wrong. “Angel, it’s okay. We’ve just been drinking. That’s all.”

Y/N blinks at him a few times. “That’s all?”

“Yeah, no big deal, I promise.” He says this casually though his heart is still racing and he’s still holding her face. 

“Okay. No big deal,” she echoes, but the sparkle she had earlier is gone and he wishes he knew why. Impulsively, he presses the smallest peck to her cheek and stands up. He puts out the fire in the fire place and helps her into bed, climbing in beside her. She starts snoring softly as soon as her head hits the pillow and Jeonghan hopes they can forget about this in the morning. He wants her sparkle back. 

Byeol had reluctantly pondered the idea of visiting the potential destination wedding locations to aid in her decision making and Seungcheol had practically lunged across the room for his computer to book flights and hotels. Y/N and Jeonghan would be joining them because the soon-to-be newlyweds insisted that they needed their opinion.

Joshua helps Y/N pack the night before Y/N is set to leave. “Another romantic getaway, huh?” He wiggles his eyebrow at her. 

Y/N pelts him with a handful of panties. She’s long over being embarrassed by him seeing them. Not only did they sleep together once upon a time, but he does her laundry all the time anyway. He’s washed most of these pairs just earlier today. They don’t have a lot of secrets now. “It’s for wedding planning, dipshit. Byeol needs to pick a location and she doesn’t want to without visiting them.”

“Oh, I get it. That makes perfect sense. I’m referring to the romantic trip across Europe with your best friend.” 

Joshua’s teasing has been relentless since wedding planning started. Apparently Mingyu and Wonwoo had a lot to say about Y/N and Jeonghan after the celebratory dinner and it had gotten around her friend group. “It’s not romantic. We’re going for Seungcheol and Byeol.” 

“Uh huh. Where are you going again?” Joshua smirks. 

“Venice, Paris, and Mykonos,” Y/N answers shortly, snatching a stack of clothes from Joshua’s hands. 

“AKA some of the most romantic cities in the world. Tell me again, how was the winery?” Joshua is grinning widely and it makes Y/N scoff at him. 

“I hate you. Stop making me feel awkward about it.” 

“What’s awkward about being into your best friend? It’s okay if you are,” Joshua urges and it makes Y/N reel back. 

“Whoa, who said anything like that?”

Joshua nods simply. “You don’t fool me. Something happened at the winery. You’ve been weird ever since.”

“You are so nosy, do you know that?” Y/N snaps though it doesn’t have a lot of heat behind it. 

“I know,” Joshua’s still smiling and it’s starting to get irritating. “I’m just invested in your happiness. Now what, did you guys hook up or something?”

Y/N frowned. “Not quite. And it was probably a mistake anyway.”

“Honey, what was a mistake?” Joshua asks cautiously. He’d really been teasing. He’s surprised that anything happened at all with the way Y/N had been about men over the past 8 years.

Y/N purses her lips. “We had a lot to drink and we kissed. He said it was no big deal when I apologized. See? A mistake.”

“But it bothers you.” Joshua observed. She hated how good he was at that sometimes. She could never get much past him. “Tell me why.”

“It’s a lot to explain…” she mumbles. 

“I have time. Now let me help you before you go spend over a week with him in Europe.”

Y/N huffs and opens her mouth. Somewhere in all the word vomit, it must make some sense because Joshua’s eyes keep getting bigger. She explains what it was like growing up with him, their first kiss, losing their virginities to each other, that stupid marriage pact that they hadn’t acknowledged in years until recently, the way he’d always looked out for her, everything to do with Sora, and how warm things had been since Y/N and Jeonghan had reunited. 

Joshua whistled. “Okay. What do you want to do about it?”

Y/N stares blankly. “What do you mean? I want to keep my best friend. I haven’t been good at that over the last few years.”

“Y/N, baby, I’ll be honest. That’s not just your best friend anymore. You said it felt different right?” Joshua asked. “It’s okay if it is different now. Like you said, you both have done a lot of growing up. Maybe it’s not supposed to be just friends now.”

Y/N looks like she could cry from frustration as she angrily folds a shirt. Joshua gently pulls it out of her hands and makes her sit down, squatting in front of her with his hands planted on her knees. “I just got him back. And he just got out of a long term relationship. The last thing I want to do is fuck anything up.”

“But would he make you happy?” Joshua pressed. She frowns at him and he continues to press. “That day at our internship years ago when you yelled at me, you said you just wanted to find something that felt right. Does it feel right with him?”

Her frown is deeper then as she looks down at Joshua. He’s carefully watching her. “I’ve never really let myself entertain the idea. At least not since we were teenagers.”

“Then maybe that’s what you should use this trip for,” Joshua suggests. “Do the romantic things I know you want to do because you’re there anyway. And while you’re at it, figure out if it feels right with him or not. And try to get a read on if he likes it too.”

Joshua stands up. “But we should rethink what you’re bringing. Do any of your old stuff from college fit?”

Y/N gives him a bewildered look. “You think I’m going to wear things I wore in college? If I can even fit in them still?”

Joshua huffs, going to her closet. “I’ll figure it out.”

Jeonghan insists that Y/N take the window seat when they board the plane for Italy. She’s always liked to look outside down into the clouds and she’s kind of touched that she didn’t have to remind him of that. It’s still early when they take off so the flight is quiet. When they land it’s only sometime in the afternoon local time, but they’re all exhausted because of the flight and time difference and decide to tackle sight seeing and venue touring the next day. 

The hotel room is beautiful and Y/N oohs and aahs over the view from the bed. Seungcheol made sure not to spare any expenses for this trip now that Byeol was letting him splurge on her and Y/N and Jeonghan were benefiting greatly from it. She and Jeonghan relax and take a short nap before it’s time to go down to the hotel restaurant for some dinner. Much like at the winery, they have too much to drink and stumble up to their rooms late. 

They come inside the room and Y/N shuffles around as Jeonghan sits down on the couch by the window. Y/N doesn’t really think twice about stopping in front of Jeonghan and turning her back to him as she pulls her hair out of the way. “Can you unzip this for me?” Joshua had picked a royal purple dress that wasn't her favorite because of the cut and shape of it. She’s not sure why she even has it because she’d had to take the tag off of it earlier today, but Joshua insisted it would look good. She’d let him chuck a lot of things into her suitcase that she felt iffy about and now she just wanted out of the dress that was a first of many. 

She waits patiently to feel Jeonghan’s touch, and when she finally does feel it, it doesn’t do what she expects. One big hand wraps around the curve of her waist in slow motion and pulls her closer so she’s standing between his knees and the other lands between her shoulder blades. Both touches are incredibly warm, but a shiver runs down her spine anyway and she fears it was obvious. 

“Why? It looks nice,” Jeonghan said lightly with a hint of amusement. She’s sure if she could see his face, she’d think about smacking it. 

“I’m not going to sleep in it,” Y/N snorts, trying to recover even though his hands haven’t moved. “Besides, it’s not my favorite.”

Jeonghan’s fingers still don’t move for the zipper yet, running along the top of the spaghetti strap dress just under her shoulder blades. The other drifts to her hip and she’s being pulled back a little more now. “What’s not to like?” 

Y/N loses whatever train of thought she had. He’s complimented her three times in this dress now. Once before they went downstairs and she’d asked him to help her zip it up, and now twice sitting behind her as she waits for him to unzip it. It’s not like he never gives her any compliments, but now she’s reading into everything too much. There’s also something in his tone that she’s never really heard before and can’t identify. His touch in particular makes her hands shake a little the longer it lingers. Lamely, she finally says, “It’s a little too snug in the waist. I’ve put on a few pounds since I bought it, I guess.”

“I think you look beautiful in it. Plus, I like this color on you.” 

“Thanks, Hannie. You really think so?” It comes out more like a whisper and she has to close her eyes. 

There’s a chuckle behind her, still tinged with that little something she can’t name. “Yeah I do.” Finally, he puts her out of her misery. The hand at her hip stays and squeezes a bit, but his other fingers finally close around the zipper and he pulls down slowly. Her bare back is cold now, but more importantly she can feel her face flushing. She can’t really face him now, so she softly pulls away from his hands and grabs her pajamas and toiletries on the way to the bathroom. 

Y/N is questioning such a reaction as she showers and changes. She tries to rationalize it with the fact that she’s not really dated, much less been intimate, with anyone in years. But that had been different than every other experience she’d ever had. It was so simple, and yet there was something sensual and sweet about it. Like he’d take care of her. Immediately, she thinks that’s silly because he has always gone out of his way to take care of her, outside of the time that they were strangers. 

She checks that her face isn’t too red when she comes back out. Jeonghan is lounging on the bed in his pajamas, flipping through TV channels. He looks up to her and smiles as she approaches. “Better?” Somehow the little question warms her more than the little touches and compliments did earlier. He was concerned about her comfort on top of everything else. 

She simply nods and settles into bed, looking out at the Venice skyline. She’s still awake much later when he’s turned off the TV and lights and is tossing and turning. He does this a lot now due to the lingering rib pain and struggles to stay comfortable. His arm comes around her waist and his body slides close to hers. She doesn’t think too much initially about letting her hand fall over his across her stomach. 

Just as she starts to overthink it and pull back though, he mumbles into the back of her neck. “Why are you still awake?”

“Don’t know. Insomnia, I guess. Don’t let me keep you up.”

He’s humming into the back of her neck now. “Is that normal for you?”

“A hazard of what I do for a living. And sometimes I can’t get my mind to shut off,” Y/N whispers back. 

“What’s on your mind tonight?” He asks sleepily.

Y/N doesn’t know how to answer because somehow the words, ‘I think I’m into my best friend and am overthinking literally everything we say or do’, don’t seem like the right thing to say. She settles for a non-descriptive, “I don’t know, a lot right now.”

“Don’t do that.” When she makes a sound of confusion, Jeonghan props his head up in his palm, pulling her to lay flat on her back and face him. The way the lighting hits his face leaves her kind of breathless and she feels so fucking cheesy for it. “Stop bottling things up.”

“It’s not that I’m bottling things up intentionally,” Y/N pouts up at him. “I just don’t know how to articulate it.”

“What’s it about then?” He asks simply. He’s trying to pull small answers out of her to get her to talk about the big things. It’s always been his technique for her because she needs the encouragement. But that’s kind of a dangerous thing considering where her mind is going while looking up at him. So she looks away towards the ceiling. 

“All this wedding planning has got me thinking. I don’t think I want to be alone. Maybe I did for a while, but now I just don’t know how not to be alone.”

“You’re thinking about dating again?” Jeonghan asks and there’s something careful about it. Y/N just shrugs. “Anyone in particular?” Though he’s trying to tease, he’s still being careful. Maybe it’s just because he recognizes it for the sensitive topic it is. 

“I don’t know that it matters,” Y/N mumbles. 

“It should matter…” he starts. “But if it doesn’t, we can always keep that marriage pact.”

Y/N can’t help but giggle but she can’t look at him. She’s picturing a stupid wedding at a stupid winery with a stupid bed and breakfast. Their room would have a stupid couch with a stupid fireplace. “Buy me a ring. I hear you have good taste.”

Jeonghan bows his head as he laughs. “I don’t know about that.” 

“Byeol liked it. And I think you did a good job,” Y/N said lightly. 

He fiddles with her fingers and they both get quiet. When he grazes a finger over her ring finger, her mind scrambles a bit, wondering if he entertains the joke even half as much as she does. “What would that even look like for us?” He asks curiously.

Y/N ponders the question. They’d always been close. Outside of the more physical elements of a relationship, she wonders if anything would really change. There weren’t many lines between them otherwise, which is why she’d been so comfortable with pitching the idea of sleeping together at 16. And as silly as it sounds, it was something she thought about from time to time. It had been sweet and careful and full of trust - exactly how their whole friendship had been and worlds better than some of the horror stories she’d heard before when it comes to your first. Looking back on her dating experience, not much had compared to it since and in a way she had been chasing after it. And it was both a blessing and a curse that they went right back to normal the next day. There were times that Y/N had wanted it to mean more than it seemed to, but it wasn't worth the risk of mentioning it back then. 

But now things were different between them. They were older with more life experience, but still understood each other so well. Objectively, they didn’t do many things differently now - they still annoyed and teased each other, they still shared food every time they ate together, and looked out for each other the way they always did. The big difference to Y/N now was that the casual touching and compliments didn’t feel so casual. There was a level of intimacy about it that hadn’t been present before. She wants to chalk it up to the years-long dry spell she’s under, but no one she’s dated before that has ever flustered her with simple touches or words the way he does lately. 

But she feels like she can’t say any of that so she does what she does best and makes a joke. “I don’t know, Hannie. If we got married, you’d have to pretend to like me a little, at least.”

Jeonghan scoffs and acts like he’s going to push Y/N away, but ends up dragging her a bit closer. “I like you more than anyone else. What are you even talking about?”

“Sounds like the first step of a good marriage to me,” Y/N teases. “You should like your partner more than you like anyone else.”

“Mhm,” Jeonghan hummed, clearly amused. “And what about you? Could you tolerate me for the next 70 years?”

Y/N snorts, looking up at him. “We won’t live that long. But yes, I can’t imagine tolerating anyone but you that long.” 

Jeonghan is smiling when he lays back down on the pillow - her pillow, that is. His breath is on her cheek. “And what are the benefits to this marriage? Arguing about eating sushi every night? Or whose a bigger blanket hog?” 

The teasing makes her laugh up at the ceiling. “It would all be with love. Plus, there’s financial benefits like taxes and insurance. And I’m sure there would be some physical benefits to it too.” The words are out before she realizes it and she hopes he can’t see how she’s blushing. She keeps looking at the ceiling, feeling embarrassed for what she said, and then feeling even more embarrassed about being embarrassed about it at all at the age of 30.

“Would there be?” Jeonghan asks and Y/N can’t really decipher what’s in his tone again, but she knows that the teasing and amusement are totally absent. When Y/N bites her lip, he grips her fingers. “There would be no pressure for that in this entirely hypothetical plan.” 

“I wouldn’t mind it,” Y/N mumbled. “After all, I asked you before… I’m not sure how you feel about it now though.”

“I feel the same about it as I did back then,” Jeonghan says simply and Y/N furrows her eyebrows at him. 

“I’m not sure what that means, Hannie. We never really talked about it before or after the fact.”

“All you have to do is ask. That’s how I feel about it.” Another simple statement.

“And if I asked right now?” Y/N dared to ask, looking him directly in the eye. 

Jeonghan’s eyes flit across her face. “That depends. Are you still drunk?” Y/N shook her head. She hadn’t been nearly as bad as she was at the winery a few weeks ago and the drinks at dinner tonight had been hours ago at this point. His hand leaves hers at her stomach and grazes the side of her face. “We’re starting to toe the line where this doesn’t feel entirely hypothetical. Have you noticed?”

Y/N’s eyes flare with surprise and he smiles softly when she speaks. “Yeah, I wasn't sure if you had though. So it’s not just me that feels like things are different now?”

“No,” Jeonghan chuckled. “Not just you.” His thumb grazes over her bottom lip. “I don’t know where to go from here though, Y/N. I just got you back.” He doesn’t really have to explain anymore, because Y/N is right there with him. After four painful years without him, it feels so risky to even discuss this. 

Y/N thinks of Joshua’s advice. Take the nice, free, romantic vacation and figure out how you feel. It seems like good advice now and there’s an openness between them, so Y/N suggests it. Jeonghan looks at her for a long time before mumbling, “Okay.” Then he’s leaning in to kiss her. 

Jeonghan and Y/N meet Seungcheol and Byeol for breakfast on very little sleep, but it doesn’t matter because Byeol has a laundry list of things she wants to accomplish. They eat quickly and get a move on. There are a couple rooftop venues that overlook the Grand Canal and both women seem intrigued by the view. Seungcheol and Jeonghan stand back and let them hash out the details over the notebook Byeol is carrying with her. Ideas for decor, colors that will look good with the backdrop, what type of flowers would fit this vibe. The men just glance at each other and shrug. Jeonghan doesn’t care much and he knows Seungcheol doesn’t either as long as Byeol will be walking down the aisle wherever they pick. 

They stop for lunch at a little cafe and then they’re moving again. This time, it’s the tourist traps like Saint Mark’s Basilica and the Bridge of Sighs. They don’t have a ton of time anywhere in particular because of how much they want to pack into this trip, and Seungcheol promises they’ll come back after he sees Byeol’s face when it’s time to find somewhere for dinner and wind down for the night. She’s clearly enjoying the trip and doesn’t want to leave quite yet. 

Jeonghan is terribly distracted. Not in a bad way, but he can’t for the life of him focus on anything else but Y/N. He hasn’t been able to all day. It’s a good thing that Seungcheol excepted very little from him here besides showing up and giving an opinion on the venues, because Jeonghan has done very little besides watching Y/N as she looks around in a sort of childlike wonder or excitement. It’s what he refers to as her sparkle. 

He first noticed her sparkle when they were five. Jeonghan had been dropped off for a play date, something they’d done their whole life up to that point, and he’d let himself in because he might as well have lived at the Choi’s just as much as the twins lived at the Yoon’s. He found Seungcheol and Y/N in the backyard. Seungcheol was too busy trying to make free throws to notice Jeonghan had arrived, but Y/N did. “Hannie, come see what I can do!” She’d looked so focused that her tongue was sort of sticking out as she places her feet carefully, and then executes a very clumsy pirouette. She’d been taking ballet for a few months and it was her favorite thing back then. When she was facing him again, feet both planted on the floor, she gave him a smile that made him ask to see her do it again. 

He’d seen that look again when she pulled him down to duck under a bridge during a gondola ride. And when they were looking out at the canal from one of the rooftop venues. And when she saw someone walk their dog past their table on the sidewalk during dinner. He liked seeing it. 

Later, when they arrived to the hotel room, the first thing he did was hug her. It felt silly, because they’d hugged hundreds if not thousands of times over the years. But after last night and today, he couldn’t help it. Kissing her for just a few moments last night had made him realize it wasn’t even remotely just friendly now, and it was kind of agonizing to have to play it cool all day. 

Y/N is giggling in his ear, arms wrapped around his shoulders. “What’s this for?”

“What? You don’t like it?” Jeonghan teases, starting to pull away, but her grip around his shoulders becomes a little tighter. 

“I didn’t say that, and I also didn’t say you could stop,” Y/N insists and Jeonghan has to laugh because her tone is cute. It’s got some of that sparkle. 

When she finally pulls away, he leaves his hands on her waist. Again, it feels silly because it’s not like he’s never touched her waist, but there’s something different about her hands landing softly on his chest that make him smile. “Did you have a good time?”

Y/N grins widely. “Yeah, it was nice!”

Jeonghan gives her a knowing look. “She won’t pick it though.”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “It’ll be Greece. I bet you anything.”

“Oh, anything?” Jeonghan gives a sly smile and Y/N pushes him back with a laugh, walking past him into the room. He trails after her to her suitcase, hovering behind her back. He can tell she’s not mad at the comment, just nervous. Her hands shake a little as they dig through the clothes and he feels bad. The last thing he wants is for her to be nervous around him. He puts his hands back on her waist and presses a small kiss to her bare shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry, angel.”

Y/N looks over her shoulder at him for a moment, biting her lip. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Hannie. I’m just not sure what I’m doing here.”

“I don’t expect you to. I don’t expect anything from you except honesty. Besides, I’m not sure quite what to do either.” She lets him turn her until she’s facing him again. “I know we talked about toeing this line last night, but we don’t have to do that. We can pump the brakes or just stop the car all together right now.”

Y/N fiddles with the buttons on his shirt, lips pursed. “I don’t really want to pump the brakes or stop, if you don’t. A lot of things about this are just nerve wracking.” 

Jeonghan pulls her to the couch and makes her sit with him. “I agree,” he says honestly. Whatever he’s been feeling lately is scary in its intensity. “But tell me why so I can help.”

“Besides the potential of losing my best friend?” Jeonghan squeezes her thigh because that much was obvious to both of them and she sighs. She stares for a long time at him, looking conflicted. Finally, she says, “Is this what you want, Jeonghan?”

“I wouldn’t have agreed last night if I didn’t want to explore this, Y/N,” Jeonghan nodded. 

“And it has nothing to do with Sora?”

Jeonghan blinked at her. “Y/N, I haven’t thought about Sora in weeks, and even then it wasn't a positive thing.”

“You're sure this isn’t a rebound?”

Her question makes him frown deeply. He wants to be mad, but it’s a fair thing to ask given he just ended a five year relationship only a matter of months ago. “No, Y/N. I love you too much for that. I want it to work if that’s what you want.”

“And if it doesn’t work out for whatever reason, what do we do?” Y/N’s eyes look a little watery, but per usual she blinks it back. “I want a plan.” Jeonghan can’t help but laugh for a moment because she’s still just as Type A as she’s always been. She likes back up plans for her back up plans. Y/N’s eyes flare with anger. “I’m serious, Hannie. If we explore this, we need to agree on finding a way out if it’s not working.”

“Angel, that’s like planning for failure,” Jeonghan is still chuckling, but the sound dies in his throat when she doesn’t laugh along. 

“That’s really all I know when it comes to this sort of thing. So I need a guarantee that you’ll still be in my life if wherever we go with this doesn’t work out.” The watery eyes are back, but this time it seems like too much for her to blink them back. 

Jeonghan sticks out his pinky and Y/N cracks a smile. “I promise you will not be rid of me until you beg me to go.”

“Unlikely,” Y/N laughs but it kind of chokes her up. She links their pinkies together. “You can’t take it back now.”

“Can’t imagine why I’d want to. Now, can I kiss you? I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

Y/N barely nods before Jeonghan’s hand comes up to the side of her face, the other still holding her thigh. She feels his breath on her lips for a moment and her eyes drift closed. Finally, he kisses her. It’s soft and warm, light presses landing and receding over and over. It sends tingles through her body and her hands slide to his shoulders. When her tongue swipes across his lips, this time he doesn’t stop her. It’s still soft, but something is gently building and it has her sighing into the kiss. 

He’s so slow and careful, like she might break, which is about right. The sensations have her feeling so fragile. When his hand slides from her cheek and into her hair, she thinks she might cry. A few more touches, specifically his hand sliding from her thigh to her waist where it rubs lightly and she actually does. 

Jeonghan pulls back when he feels the tear. “Do you want to stop?” The question is automatic as he swipes at her cheek. 

“No, I’m sorry for being such a big baby.” Y/N knows her apology is weak but Jeonghan gives her a kind smile, totally void of any teasing. 

“Stop bottling it up, Y/N. It’s okay. And it’s also okay if you just want to go to bed.”

“I don’t,” Y/N answers quickly. “But I probably killed the mood.”

“No,” Jeonghan laughs lightly. “I just want to know that you’re okay.”

Y/N feels her face flush and she knows she’s caught because his thumb runs over the apples of her cheeks where it feels the warmest. But his smile is still kind and it makes her lean in to peck his lips. “I’m okay.”

The answer must be good enough for Jeonghan because he’s leaning into her space more, hand at the back of head to hold her in place. This time he swipes into her mouth and whatever was building earlier is back again. So much that after a while of it, she doesn’t feel embarrassed to slide into his lap and straddle him. He sighs into her mouth when she’s fully seated against him and his big hands spread across the curve of her waist. She looks down at him. “Okay? Not hurting?” When he shakes his head, she leans down to his lips again. 

His hands are starting to drift now and it’s starting to take her breath away. They slide up her waist until his thumbs are just under her breasts before sliding back down, past her waist and hips and to her thighs. It’s so easy to get swept up in the touches and she’s heating fast. She can feel herself getting wet as he continues, though he hasn’t touched any skin besides her thighs. And she’s not alone in being turned on. Underneath her, she feels him hardening. It’s kind of a rush to have this effect on him. 

When she can’t breath anymore, she pulls back to look at him and he looks as dazed as she feels. “Should we stop?” Y/N asked and feels kind of silly for it again, but Jeonghan remains serious. 

“Whatever you want, angel.” His voice is low and scratchy and she likes the sound. She’s never heard it like that before. 

Y/N bites her lip nervously. “I want to know what you want, Hannie.”

Jeonghan stares up at her, hands still drifting up and down her body gently. “I don’t want to stop,” he mumbles. “I don’t think I’ll ever want to stop this. But I’m not interested in rushing you if you want more and I don’t expect anything from you if you don’t. Which is why it’s whatever you want.” 

Y/N’s nerve endings feel like they’re on fire. For some reason, she remembers being 16 as he hovers over her in bed, saying similar things. ‘There’s no rush’ and ‘we don’t have to do this’ and ‘are you sure you’re comfortable?’ He was gentle then too. It had dashed any nervousness she felt back then and he’d made her feel good when she agreed to continue. She wanted that again.

“If we keep going, do we have to go all the way?” She feels lame for asking, but this is such a fragile situation and she feels like they’re kind of walking a tight rope right now. 

Jeonghan is smiling sweetly. “No. We go however far you feel like.”

Something about the way he says it emboldens Y/N. She’s always let the men she’s been with take the lead, but there’s something powerful about being handed the reigns. Without another word, she leans down to him again and kisses him. It has a little more urgency but his touch his still gentle. She grabs one of his hands from her side and puts it on her thigh, angling inward. She’s glad he gets the point because it starts creeping up slowly. The fabric of her skirt starts to bunch but he’s still not rushed. 

Her breathing catches when his finger tips graze the edge of her panties and he pulls back to watch her face. “All you have to do is say stop, okay?” It seems highly unlikely that she’s going to do that, but she nods anyway. When his fingers graze over the center of her, she can’t help the little gasp that escapes her mouth as her eyes snap shut. Small circular motions start working her up through the fabric and she’s getting wetter by the second. 

Jeonghan gently pulls the edge of her panties to the side and gives her a few beats to object. When Y/N doesn’t, his finger grazes her, dipping into the wetness and spreading it. When his finger finds her clit, she shudders, the shock waves already moving through her. Her grip on his shoulders tighten. The cord in her stomach is tightening quickly and just before it’s about to snap he pulls away. 

A whine escapes her mouth before she can really stop it, but he's leaning up to kiss her again. It’s still sweet and she huffs against his lips. It makes him laugh. “Be patient, okay? I want to keep making you feel good.”

“Fine,” Y/N relents and it makes him laugh again, especially when his fingers find her center again and one pushes inside. Her jaw drops open a bit at the slight stretch. It’s nothing like her own fingers and it has her breath catching in her throat again. He pumps it in and out softly and the way it hits her walls make her want to moan. When he adds another finger, she can’t help it. He head tilts back as the sound falls from her mouth. 

Dimly, she’s aware that a little fingering shouldn’t have such an impact, but it feels too good to be embarrassed about it right now. Besides, Jeonghan has never let her feel genuinely embarrassed about anything for long. It feels too good the way his fingers spread inside of her, hitting spots she’s unfamiliar with anymore. When his thumb lands on her clit again, rubbing softly with every push and pull of his fingers, he leans forward into her exposed neck. She feels a few soft kisses and then the slight sting of his teeth and it has her clenching. Her fingers find the hair at the back of his head to keep him there and he nips and sucks a few times. 

“Feel good?” He asks quietly against her throat and she nods weakly. “Will you let me see you come?” The question works her up even more and the cord is getting tighter again. “You look so pretty like this. Come on, angel. Just let go.”

The coaxing is all it takes for the cord to finally snap. It’s a full body reaction that she has to anchor onto his shoulders for. But his free hand is on her back now keeping her upright and in his lap as the other hand still helps her ride it out. When his fingers finally slide out of her, she feels a little boneless. She’s nervous to open her eyes and look at him, but some of it fades out when his hand grabs her chin and a soft kiss is placed on her lips. “Okay?” 

The question is still gentle, just like everything else he’s said since they got back to the hotel room, but she hears a tinge of nervousness that matches her own. She cracks open her eyes and he looks exceptionally vulnerable, and she wonders if he thinks he’s done something wrong. But he has nothing to worry about because this is the safest and most cared for she’s ever really felt. So she leans down and kisses him one more time for good measure. “Okay.”

The next day is a travel day, but it’s much shorter because they’re only going to Paris. Jeonghan watches Y/N look out of the window for most of the flight. His nerves are fried and he keeps a grip on her hand. She doesn’t ask why. 

Toeing this line over the past couple days is something he enjoyed - really enjoyed, in fact. This was someone he’s known forever, literally, and someone that knows him best, better than anyone else surely. And the feel and sight of her on his lap last night had totally scrambled his brain until not a single coherent thought remained beyond making sure she was happy and felt good. But he kind of felt like he was at a precipice when he woke up this morning. 

To be clear, it’s not regret that he’s feeling. He knows immediately that that’s not it, because it had all felt right to him. He was just afraid of waking up and seeing that she might have regretted it and he wasn’t sure how he would deal with that. When she woke up, she gave no indications that she did, even pecking him on the lips before she got out of bed. In the rush to the airport, he hadn’t had much time to think about it, but this short flight felt like an eternity. He’s not sure what he’d do with the time if he wasn’t stuck in this seat, but it makes him twitchy. 

Which is something that Seungcheol notices when they’ve landed. The girls have run to the restroom and he and Seungcheol are waiting for their bags when Seungcheol pins him with a look. “You seem off.”

“How do you mean?” Jeonghan hopes to play dumb. 

“You’re anxious. Why? You’ve flown a hundred times before so that can’t be it,” Seungcheol presses. 

“I’m good. Nothing to worry about.” Jeonghan prays he’ll drop it as he spots the bags coming around the corner on the conveyor belt. 

“Uh huh. You know I don’t like secrets.” 

Jeonghan does know that. But what he doesn’t know is if he and Y/N should be keeping things quiet until there’s something definite to say. So he shrugs, “When I have something to say, I’ll say it. I promise.” And he means it. If this is actually going somewhere, which he hopes that it is, then they’ll say something to Cheol. They’ll have to. 

But that also opens up the possibility of it going nowhere or going horribly wrong. Jeonghan has to put the idea out of his mind immediately for his sanity and because their bags are here. 

They arrive at the hotel and it’s another nice one with a nice view. Y/N jokes that they should let Seungcheol pick lodging from now on, and Jeonghan laughs but he’s still distracted. They change out of their outfits from the flight and meet in the lobby for a tour. The hotel they’re staying at happens to be a popular venue for weddings and Seungcheol booked a tour on a whim when he booked the rooms. Byeol seems to like the ballroom and the rooftop, from which you can see the Eiffel Tower. Y/N’s sparkle is back as she enjoys the view and Jeonghan has a hard time looking at the scenery. 

The second and third venues are not far and they walk to them. Both are chateaus that are privately owned but often hosts weddings. Byeol had scheduled tours at both ahead of time. Byeol is pretty charmed by both of them and even Seungcheol comments on how much he likes it. Y/N shivers in the cold, castle-like interior. It’s not a winner for her, but Jeonghan notices she keeps her mouth shut. He already knows what her choice would be anyway if it were up to her. 

After a long lunch, they hit the usual tourist destinations, such as the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and the Notre-Dame Cathedral. At the Cathedral, Byeol and Seungcheol even gather some information about hosting their wedding there because they like the interior. Y/N looks excited by the idea, but one look between Y/N and Jeonghan makes it obvious that it will still be Greece when it comes time for Byeol to pick. 

Seungcheol and Byeol are staying on a different floor, so they get off the elevator before Y/N and Jeonghan after dinner. As soon as the elevator doors close, Jeonghan is on Y/N and she giggles. “What do you think you’re doing?”

It’s playful so he laughs, dropping a couple kisses onto her neck. “Nothing, I just missed you today.”

Y/N lets out another giggle. “Missed me? Hannie, we spent the whole day together.” 

The elevator doors slides open on their floor and he takes her hand, leading them to their room. “I know, but it’s true.” 

“But I was right here all day. What could be different?” She asks as he uses the keycard and opens the door. Once inside, he lightly pushes her against the closed door. 

“This,” he murmurs as he presses a kiss to her lips. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted any of this in public, or in front of Seungcheol or Byeol for that matter.”

She’s smiling against his ear when he buries is face in her neck again. Her arms wrap tighter around his shoulders. “Do you want that?” 

“I think you already know my answer,” he laughs into her neck. “I’d be all over you anywhere if you let me.”

“I’m not opposed to it,” she admits as a hand combs through his hair. “Does Cheol know what’s going on?”

“He’s suspicious about something. He cornered me at the airport earlier.”

“Do you think he would be mad?” Y/N sounds unsure. 

It only takes a split second for Jeonghan to answer. “No, not as long as I treat you well.”

She pulls back a bit to look at him. “How can you be so sure? I remember him giving you a bloody nose one time over a simple rumor.”

Jeonghan bites his tongue. He’s not ready to admit how long these feelings that they’re coming face to face with have been lingering for him. Or that Seungcheol is in on that secret. “Would you take my word for it for now?”

She stares at him for a long time and he feels nervous about it. Finally, she says, “If you’ll tell me one day, then yes.” She gives him a few pecks. There’s a blend of something that takes over her face when she pulls away. Something like fear and anxiety, but also a bit of her usual sparkle and some mischievousness. “I was going to take a shower… do you want to join me?”

Jeonghan’s mind screeches to a halt. He’s impressed by how calmly he speaks, because he doesn’t feel calm at all. He’s surprised his hands don’t shake a bit at her waist. “Y/N… are you sure? That’s quite a leap from what we did yesterday. I have no expectations for what we do and what pace we do it at.” 

Some of the sparkle and mischievousness dims and she plays with the pocket on his shirt to avoid looking at him. “I know, but… You made me feel good and I felt safe with you. I always do. So I’d like to do this, if nothing else just for the company. We don’t even have to do anything.” She smiles sheepishly. “I missed you today too, you know?”

“And I missed you… you’re sure? Even if nothing happens, this is still a leap.” Outside of a handful of occasions, being without clothes was not something that was common in their friendship up to this point. That alone would be different. Jeonghan doesn’t budge until he has confirmation. She gives him a strong nod, but he still waits for her to say something. 

The moment she says, “I’m sure, Hannie,” he backs off of her and lets her lead him to the bathroom. The whole thing is made of dark green tiles and the lighting is dimmed. They took a peek at the shower earlier and it’s expansive with a bench inside. Jeonghan closes the door behind them to keep the steam in later, but as soon as he faces her he knows she’s losing whatever confidence she had before when she asked him to join her. He carefully reaches out for her hands because it feels like the safest option.

“Do you want help? Or do you want me to step out?” 

Y/N gives him a weak smile. “You first?” 

Without much thought, Jeonghan begins unbuttoning his shirt. He’s barely two buttons in when Y/N hands push his own out of the way. She’s slow and meticulous and he lets her take her time, because it seems to help ease her nerves to be able to do something else than think about where this is going. Jeonghan helps untuck the shirt and then sheds it off. He cares very little about how it might get wrinkled on the bathroom floor when Y/N puts her hands on his bare chest. It takes him a minute to realize that she’s not just checking him out, though he does think she is. She’s also looking at the scar from his surgery. He lightly squeezes her hand bringing it up to kiss. “Don’t think about it.” 

It takes him leaning over her and kissing her before that spell is broken. He walks her back into the bathroom counter, but her hands are still hesitant and she needs more time to warm up or decide to back out. So he picks her up and places her on the counter, squeezing between her legs. She looks surprised at the move and it makes him laugh. “Comfortable?”

She looks a little dazed when she nods. “Would you be offended if I said I was surprised you were that strong? It’s just, I’m not exactly light.”

Jeonghan scoffs, leaning back into her lips. “Y/N has a strength kink. Got it.”

Y/N sputters out a laugh. “I never said that!” 

“You didn’t have to, angel. Your face said it all.” Y/N hides her red face in his neck but she’s still laughing. His arms wrap around her, hands rubbing up and down her back. “I’m messing with you, Y/N. You can relax.” 

“Maybe you’re right. I kind of liked it,” she said shyly into his neck. 

Jeonghan chuckled, letting his hand creep up the back of her shirt slowly, palm pressing into her skin. “Noted.” 

Y/N huffed, frustration evident, “I’m sorry, Jeonghan. I know this is clumsy.”

He makes her sit up so he can look at her. “I don’t care about that. Really, I don’t. I’m just relieved you trust me enough to entertain any of this. And that you’d tell me if you’re not quite ready. Right?”

Y/N nods. “Yeah, would you?” 

Jeonghan can’t help but place a peck on her lips. “Yeah, I would.” Both palms are on her back now, shirt bunched up her back slightly. “What now?” 

He watches her as it looks like she’s steeling herself for something. Then her hands come to the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. She’s wearing a black lacy bra and it makes him suck in a small breath. He’s staring a moment too long and she starts to squirm. He kisses her to get her to stop. “You are so pretty,” he mumbles against her lips. He’s rock hard now, pressing against her between her legs. 

Jeonghan is surprised when Y/N starts to get a little impatient. It seems like a switch has flipped. He sucks in another breath when she reaches for his belt, starting to unbuckle it. He laughs because she was hiding in his neck moments ago over a joke about a kink. When she reaches for the button of his pants, his laugh dries up because things are moving kind of fast now. He sheds his pants too before returning back to between her legs. Not that she would let him get away, because she was kissing him again with urgency, holding both sides of his face. 

His hands land on her thighs and when she gasps, he slowly slides them up. Her skirt bunches up to her stomach. One of his hands flies to the matching panties before slowing, gently rubbing. Like last night, she keens at the touch. He slowly repeats what he did the night before, pulling the panties to the side and working her up carefully. He thinks he could watch her come over and over again and never get tired of it. 

When she comes down, he watches her. “Okay?” She nods, her smile slightly dazed. “Still want that shower?” Another dazed nod, and he laughs. “Okay, let me help.” 

He helps her off the counter, and when she’s on her feet, his hands drift from her waist to the button of her skirt. He slowly unhooks it and pulls the zipper, but she shoves it down her legs as soon as the fabric is loose. Jeonghan laughs at the rush she’s in because they really have all night or she could kick him out of the bathroom right now, but he stops laughing when she quickly unhooks her bra and tosses it, along with her panties. His eyes follow her as she walks towards the shower. “Are you coming?”

Y/N tries to breathe deeply under the stream of water, soaking her hair and body. Every time she makes a bold move, she instantly second guesses it. So she’s relieved when she hears the shower door close. Good, she didn’t scare him off yet. 

Jeonghan’s arms slide around her waist as he presses into her back. A kiss drops onto her wet shoulder. “Kind of cold in here,” he mumbles. She giggles, spinning them to put him under the hot water. She watches his muscles relax in the warmth. He really is attractive. Always has been really. Tall with a lot of lean muscle. Handsome face. Her hands meet his chest, running down his stomach and wrapping around his waist. He peers down at her with a look of curiosity, but he doesn’t hesitate to throw his arms around her either. A kiss presses to her forehead. “Good?” 

Y/N nods, head laying on his chest. She’s not sure if that’s a lie because she’s pretty sure he can feel her heart beat where she leans into him. For the thousandth time, she wishes this wasn’t so nerve wrecking. She remembers being so much smoother about these things a long time ago. His hand pats the back of her head mindlessly and it soothes her a bit. 

“I can feel you tensing up. Stop stressing, angel,” he says simply. “Now turn around so I can wash your hair.” 

This does the trick. As soon as his fingers scrape across her scalp, Y/N’s mind goes blank. He’s meticulous about lathering and massaging and she lets him do it for as long as he wants, primarily because it feels good but also because he’s right. She’s nervous and this eases it a bit. In the back of her mind, she wonders if he’s working off his own nervous energy with this too, but she can’t be sure because she can’t open her eyes right now to look at him. 

He gently pulls her under the water, rinsing out her hair. Then she’s out of the water and he’s using conditioner on the length. While it sits, he comes around to her front, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her. The whole thing is warm and by the time he rinses her hair out again she’s putty in his hands. “Better,” he laughs against her lips. It’s not a question. He must be able to feel the lack of tension now. 

“Shut up, you make me nervous,” Y/N laughs too.

She hears a strange laugh and she cracks open her eyes to look up at him. “Me? First of all, we’ve known each other for years, Y/N. There’s no reason for that. Secondly, it’s you who makes me nervous.” 

Y/N feels her eyes widen in outrage. “Hannie, that’s such a double standard. Why would I make you nervous? I’ve been an absolute klutz this whole time!” 

“That’s exactly why!” He laughs, though there’s a serious look in his eyes. “You could do no wrong in my book and yet you’re afraid of making a fool out of yourself in front of me.” 

Some of the tension is creeping back in her shoulders and his hands come up to rub them, forcing them to stay relaxed. “It’s only because I care about your opinion more than anyone else’s,” Y/N says weakly. 

“And you have nothing to worry about there. You’re already my favorite person. And even if you weren’t already, I think you’d have me hooked in a heartbeat.” 

His sincerity makes her eyes water. “Stop making me want you,” Y/N half jokes. It makes Jeonghan laugh loudly and it echoes throughout the shower. 

“No, I don’t think I will,” he says simply and then his lips are on hers again. He’s walking her back to the shower wall and when her back hits the tile, she can’t help but hiss at the cold. His tongue swipes at her mouth when she makes the sound and then it feels like he’s all over her. His hands are swiping up and down her body again, but it feels ten times better without clothes in the way. On one particular swipe up, one hand closes around her breast and it rips a moan from her. But his tongue still presses into her mouth unforgivingly and it kind of feels like he’s trying to eat her alive. His thumb rubs across her nipple and it pebbles instantly, scrambling her brain for a second. 

His other hand tilts her head and his face buries in her neck. His lips start at her ear, sucking and licking right below it and it makes her feel like she’s floating. Then his lips and teeth scrape down the column of her neck. At the base, he sucks lightly. She might have a bruise tomorrow, but that barely entered her mind before it’s gone again, because now his tongue is sweeping across her nipple. Her body arches into him because she just can’t help it, and he must like it, because his hand flies to the small of her back to keep her there. 

Y/N’s breathing is a bit ragged when he comes back up to her lips. One hand still plays with one of her breasts and the one at her back skates to her ass, grabbing a handful there gently. She’s totally aware of his hardened length pressing against her stomach and it’s all she can think about now. So she pushes him away. 

There’s a flash of panic on his face and he looks like he might be getting ready to apologize, but Y/N smiles up at him as she falls to her knees in front of him. There’s something deeply satisfying about watching the realization and subsequent awe spread across his face. “Angel, you don’t have to…”

The complaint dies on his tongue when her hand wraps around him, stroking lightly. A light curse falls from his mouth and he doesn’t look away. When her lips wrap around his tip, he hisses, another curse tumbling out. Jeonghan’s fingers thread into her wet hair but there’s nothing forceful about it. He lets her bob and lick at her pace, taking as much and then as little as she wants. 

It’s when her lips wrap around his base that his grip on her hair tightens. It loosens right away and Y/N kind of misses it already. So she pulls her mouth off of him to look up. “You can do that again.”

“Don’t want to hurt you.” His voice sounds kind of choked. 

“You won’t. Besides, there’s that newly discovered strength kink, remember?” Y/N says it teasingly, but there’s a thrill when she watches his eyes glaze over a bit more at the mention of it. His fingers grip tighter when she takes him back into her mouth again. He’s starting to become a little impatient and his fingers keep gripping tighter. The sting on her scalp makes her moan and it surprises even her. She’s historically been pretty vanilla. She’s not so naive to think this is really as rough as it can get, but the edge to it is new and has her dripping. 

Jeonghan pulls out and takes a small step forward, gently pushing her back and head against the shower wall. The position is a little uncomfortable and new, but she can’t help but nod immediately when Jeonghan strokes her hair and asks her if she’s okay. She’s more than okay because she can have the best of both worlds here, the gentleness that she needs, but also a little of the rough edge that she’s craving now. 

He guides himself back into her mouth and then he’s the one pumping in and out. The movement is gentle and so are his hands on her head, but there’s no mistaking the control he has right now. It makes her eyes roll back a little and she grips his thighs to ground herself. 

And that’s a good thing when the thrusts become hastier. She knows he’s putting in work to remain careful, but she can feel that he’s getting close. The sounds falling from his mouth make her wrap her hands to the back of his thighs, encouraging him to be closer. 

“Fuck… Angel, I’m going to come. Where do you want it?” 

Something possesses her. That’s the only explanation because she’s never done anything like this before. Y/N pushes him by the hip gently and he backs up, keening into her hand when she wraps it around him, pumping fast. “My face.” 

He looks totally gone now, and a broken moan falls from his lips, watching her stick out her tongue. He curses again when he comes. Some lands on her tongue, but most of it paints her cheek and nose. He’s hauling her to her feet immediately and her back is against the shower wall, arms wrapping around his shoulders for stability due to her weak knees. It’s entirely erotic that he presses his tongue into her mouth, not the least bit put off by the taste and feel of himself all over her face. When he comes down from his high, he’s laughing in shock. “Holy fuck, you’re so hot.” 

It makes her laugh loudly too, and relief floods her body that he liked the risk she took. Then he’s guiding her under the water, helping her rinse and wash her face, careful not to get any soap in her eyes. Then she does the same to him. They finish washing each other, but the water is still hot and they stay under the spray, holding each other. 

“Too much?” Jeonghan asks carefully, kissing her neck. 

Y/N shakes her head. “No… in fact, I could do more.” 

His head pops up and he looks down at her with a mixture of caution and excitement. “Is that so?” When she nods, he asks, “and what were you thinking?”

Y/N feels a smirk cross her face and she’s not sure where the confidence comes from. “Can we explore that strength kink a little more?” 

Jeonghan looks elated. “Yeah, I can manage that. Just tell me if it’s too much.”

Y/N lets him push her back against the shower wall that she’s becoming really familiar with. His hands stroke across her body for a while as he kisses her and she’s waits patiently. She doesn’t know how to navigate this, but he seems to and she trusts him. 

His hands wrap around her arched back, gripping and massaging, and it has her sighing into his mouth, especially the lower they go. A few rougher grips to her ass and they fall to the back of her thighs. When he lifts abruptly, she squeals in surprise, clinging to his shoulders. Instinctively, her legs fly around his waist and then her back is against the shower wall again. 

Jeonghan is laughing again. “Sorry, should have warned you.”

Y/N lightly slaps his shoulder. “Yeah right, you wanted to scare me.” She can tell she’s right because he giggles into her neck. Whatever lecture she might give him is gone when his hands grope at her ass again. Everything about the position is exposing and she’s totally at his mercy. His cock is hard against her again and the feel of it so close to where she wants it has her huffing. 

But he knows her too well. “Patience, angel.” His hips stay anchored against her, along with one hand on her ass, but the other comes back up to her breast and she’s falling back flat into the shower wall at the feeling. His lips graze her jaw. “How far do you want to go?” 

She has a hard time answering because he’s pinching lightly at her nipples. “All the way.” 

Jeonghan hesitates for a few beats before finally asking, “Like this?”

Y/N considers it through the haze of his touch. It’s been a long time and there might be better positions to reintroduce her to all of this, but she wants him so badly right now that it doesn’t matter. “Yes, please.”

“Okay. Tell me how it feels. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.” He says this against her jaw and when she nods, he pulls back again. He reaches down and the head of his cock rubs against her opening a few times before notching there, and she sucks in a breath. She can feel the stretch already and she’s still not breathing quite yet. “Deep breath, angel. It’ll be okay, but stop me if it’s not.” She gives another nod and then his lips are on hers and he’s pushing in slowly. 

The stretch is insane and tears prick her eyes. It’s not exactly pain, but there’s something uncomfortable about it. It reminds her of her first time and she feels silly for the comparison. She focuses on his lips and when he’s fully seated she’s pleased by the sound he makes against her mouth. He stays there and his hands stroke her body gently. He leans back to look at her. “Okay?” 

Y/N sighs and laughs shortly, a little overwhelmed at the feeling. “Yeah, just… go slow.”

She expects the same pain or discomfort when he pulls out most of the way, but the drag against her walls has her pinching her eyebrows together as the feeling shifts. “Oh.” It falls from her mouth before she can stop it and then he’s slowly pushing back in and it feels good. Really good actually. 

Jeonghan starts a slow and steady pace and Y/N leans forward to kiss him again. There are some broken gasps and moans from both of them. When he hits a particular spot, Y/N feels herself clench around him and he hisses. “Fuck, you feel so good.” Another clench. Jeonghan chuckles. “Praise kink, too? Y/N, really?” 

“You’re really making fun of me right now?” Y/N whines, slightly breathless. 

Jeonghan seems more focused now. His thrusts become more intense and now words are flowing freely from his mouth. “So pretty like this, letting me have you against the wall. And you sound so good, I just want to keep pulling those little noises from you. Everything about you is so perfect.” She clenches repeatedly on him and his thrusts are coming faster. Y/N’s nails dig into his shoulders. “Can I see you come? I know you’re close.” 

She was close. Dangerously close in fact. It takes a single pinch of her nipple and him hitting a certain spot deep inside her and suddenly she’s seeing stars. Moans fall from her mouth and she can do very little to help him keep a hold of her. His grip gets tight on her hips and he’s pounding her through her orgasm. “You’re going to make me come, angel. Where do you want it?” 

“Inside, Hannie,” her request is weak but there’s something about it that propels him forward, a deep groan escaping his throat. His grip on her hips is so tight it hurts as he buries himself deeply and comes inside of her. After a few deep breaths, he eases her down to her feet. HIs grip is still tight because she’s unsteady. Both of their breathing is ragged still, but she’s giggling at him. “Breeding kink?” 

Jeonghan guffaws. “Shut up. Let’s hurry up and get out of here. The water’s cold now.”

The next day, Seungcheol and Byeol have a list of things they want to do alone. Byeol is nervous to say so when she knocks on Y/N and Jeonghan’s hotel room door as they’re getting ready. They both shrug it off and tell her to go have fun. After all, they’re here to start planning their wedding and they’re in one of the most romantic cities in the world. Byeol starts to apologize but Jeonghan waves her off and says he and Y/N will go find something to do. 

And that’s actually a blessing in disguise. They might have been toeing the line before, but now they’ve straight up crossed it. But every single time they’ve gone near this line lately, it’s been in private. As Jeonghan stops replaying how Y/N rode him this morning while he sat on the tile bench in the shower, he worries about how he can navigate this public facet of whatever they’re doing. And the ‘whatever they’re doing’ part stresses him out more, because a label would be really useful right about now. 

It’s probably a good thing that he has some time to figure out how to approach this without being under the watchful eye of Seungcheol or Byeol, who have been giving him knowing looks and making comments since Y/N and Jeonghan reunited a few months ago. Seungcheol apparently doesn’t keep any secrets from Byeol so she knows all of Jeonghan’s dirty laundry dating back years. 

They’re dressing down today since they aren’t visiting any venues. At least that’s what he thinks until Y/N comes out of the bathroom in a sun dress. Jeonghan looks down at his jeans, t-shirt, and flannel and scoffs at her in offense. “Do you have to be so pretty?” 

Y/N becomes shy, cheeks turning pink. “What are you talking about? It’s just a dress and some makeup.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty without it.” Jeonghan says and she shoves him on the way out of the door. They go to a small cafe down the street and Jeonghan decides to start simply. When they’re about to cross the street, he laces his fingers with hers. Once they get to the other side of the street, he doesn’t let go until it’s time to open the door and usher her into the cafe. 

He reattaches their hands when they arrive at Jardin du Luxembourg and walk the garden. At lunch, he sits next to her and puts an arm around her shoulders. He’s happy when she leans into him. He lets go of her when they arrive for a tour at the Palace of Versailles because she’s too busy admiring it anyway to pay any attention to him.

Until dinner, they wander around the city together. When they stop and look at something, his hand falls to her back. And at dinner, he brushes a crumb off her mouth. 

She doesn’t pull away once and in fact usually leans into his touch. It leaves him elated, almost to the point of overwhelm because of how things are shifting so fast between them. It traps him in his thoughts as they stroll around after dinner aimlessly. They’re in a park that Jeonghan didn’t pay attention to the name of when they entered, when Y/N squeezes his hand. “Don’t bottle it up.”

Jeonghan glances at her and huffs a laugh. “That’s my line.”

“And I’m stealing it. You’re not usually this quiet. What’s on your mind?” Y/N says sweetly. 

Jeonghan bites his lip, looking around the park, though he can’t see much because it’s so dark. “Is a lot of this overwhelming to you too?”

Y/N hums. “Yes and no.” He can’t help but look at her curiously. “Yes because things are changing so fast between us and I don’t know where it’s going. No, because it’s you.” The words warm him. After a few beats, she looks up at him. “Do you want to slow things down? Or stop all together?” 

His response is instantaneous. “No, I don’t. I’m loving all of it. It just makes my head spin… Do you want to stop or slow down?”

Y/N shakes her head just as fast. “No, I love it too. That doesn’t make it less scary though.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. It is scary.” Jeonghan agreed without an ounce of humor. He’s surprised when Y/N laughs. 

“I feel kind of stupid now. We’ve only ever talked about what our silly marriage pact would look like. We’ve just been winging any of the steps before that, assuming that that pact ever comes to fruition and wasn’t just a joke.” 

Jeonghan does finally laugh and he throws his arm around her to pull her into his side. “Yeah, I guess we have marriage on the brain lately.” He doesn’t feel awkward often but he does right now. “Is this where we have the dreaded ‘what are we’ conversation?”

Y/N chuckles. “Maybe it’s time… what do you want?”

Jeonghan thinks carefully and he can feel her squirm against his side out of nervousness. But he takes his time because this is a pivotal moment and it needs to be honest. He pictures having days like this for the rest of his life. Holding her hand as they walk, shielding her in a crowd, sharing his food with her. He imagines taking her back to the hotel later. He’s still hesitant to assume they’re on the same page when it comes to sex, but he’d be patient as long as she’s still interested in exploring it. But it’s laughable that all of that feels foreign and weird in a good way, and yet the idea of marrying her seems totally natural. The idea warms his chest and he imagines making this kind of trip to pick out a venue for themselves. But then he knows there’s no need for a trip like this when that little bed and breakfast at the winery exists. He thinks about being married to her and living out the rest of his life with her. Again, it’s laughable that it’s not hard to imagine. 

He leans over to place a kiss on the top of her head. “I could marry you tomorrow, but I’ll settle for being your boyfriend for a while until then if you’ll have me.”

There’s humor in it and he knows she’s picked up on it, but her eyes water when she looks up at him. Her sparkle’s back. “Okay. Just until you’re ready to get me a ring though!” 

Y/N and Jeonghan are not subtle the next morning when they meet Seungcheol and Byeol to go to the airport. They might have their bags but their free shands are linked. Seungcheol and Byeol are about to ‘aww’ at them, but the taxi driver honks his horn impatiently. 

When they board the plane, Jeonghan knows something’s up the moment Byeol sits in his seat next to Y/N with a grin. Jeonghan scoffs and sits next to Seungcheol a couple rows up. As he buckles his seat belt, Seungcheol’s expression is nearly maniacal and Jeonghan does his best to ignore it. He really can’t ignore it when Seungcheol sings, “So… something you want to tell me?”

Not that he wants to ignore it because he can’t help but beam. “Are you always this nosy?” 

Seungcheol nods, nonplussed. “Did it finally happen? After years of me patiently waiting?”

Jeonghan scoffs, but he’s incredibly entertained. “Years is a stretch. And I recall you punching me one time over something like this. Pick a lane, Cheol.”

“Oh, I picked a lane when we were 22 after I apologized for hitting you. I’m just happy it’s finally happening. How did it happen though?” Seungcheol asks curiously. 

“You want to talk about what I might be doing with your sister? We’ll get thrown off the plane if you hit me here,” Jeonghan needles just to watch Seungcheol’s face twist with disgust. 

After a gag, he says, “No! Spare me the details about that. What I mean is, are you together? And how did that happen?”

Jeonghan decides he’s tortured Seungcheol enough for now, so he grins. “Yes, we’re together. It’s been happening slowly, I think. But we made it official last night.”

Seungcheol genuinely looks happy and it makes Jeonghan kind of emotional in a way that he can’t quite explain. Seungcheol’s opinion matters to him, particularly when it comes to who he dates. Seungcheol never said anything unkind about Sora, but Jeonghan knew he hadn’t cared much for her. And it’s not just anyone that he’s dating now. It’s Y/N. The way Seungcheol grins right now means he approves and it’s a huge weight off of Jeonghan’s shoulders. He doesn’t have to say it and he can’t anyway, because a flight attendant is on the intercom now giving instructions. 

They arrive in Mykonos and they are barely out of the airport doors when Jeonghan and Y/N look at Byeol and then back at each other. Silently, they know they were right and they’ll be back here soon. The hotel they check into is the best one yet for this trip in Jeonghan’s opinion. It’s an ocean side hotel with private beach access and the view from the deck and the bed right inside is incredible. There’s also a rooftop pool that Seungcheol says is the entire reason he picked this place, but they all want to enjoy the beach while the sun is still out. 

Jeonghan and Y/N change and get to the beach first. They pick a couple lounge chairs and Y/N promptly hands him a bottle of sunscreen and sits at the foot of his seat. He doesn’t hesitate to drag her closer so that when he’s done layering her back in the lotion he can wrap his arms around her and place a kiss on her cheek. That’s how Seungcheol and Byeol find them. Byeol coos while Seungcheol gags. “People are going to think you guys are the ones getting married,” Seungcheol needles. 

Y/N peeks back at Jeonghan with a secretive look before grinning at her brother. “Maybe we will. We’ll try not to upstage your wedding.” Jeonghan laughs into her shoulder and Byeol giggles behind her hand while Seungcheol waves them all off with a scoff. 

That night, Jeonghan and Y/N shower together again. It’s overwhelming how Jeonghan can’t get enough of her and the great irony is that she’s been there all along. It’s not just about lightly pushing her into the shower wall and taking her from behind, though he thoroughly enjoys that. It’s the smile she gives him when she turns back around and demands to wash his hair for him, and he only allows it if she goes first. Or the fact that she sits on the closed toilet seat while he brushes and dries her hair after the shower. Or when he helps her pull a t-shirt over her head right before they crawl into bed. He’s always loved taking care of her in the little ways that best friends do but this is a whole new level. 

He realizes they have to go back to the real world in a matter of days and there will be an adjustment to that too. He’s spent every second with her for a week now, and a pretty significant amount together in the weeks before that, and he has to go back to work now? And she has to go back to work? And they don’t live together? 

Jeonghan puts a pin in that thought for now. He just got her back, he doesn’t want to scare her off. 

The next couple days in Greece fly by. There are a few sight-seeing things that they go do, but they spend a lot of time on the beach. On their last night, Seungcheol and Byeol turn in early because they all have an early flight in the morning to go back home, but Y/N and Jeonghan opt to check out the rooftop pool if only to feel like they’re delaying the inevitable. It’s warm when they get in since the sun hasn’t been down for more than a couple hours. The busiest tourist season here has already past and there seem to be very few people staying in this hotel. That means they get the pool to themselves. They look out at the scenery for a while but Jeonghan gets bored of it eventually, beginning to pepper kisses to her neck as he stands behind her. 

“Are you ready to go home tomorrow?” Y/N muses, still looking out at the night sky. 

Jeonghan groans into her shoulder. “No. Can’t we just keep touring Europe forever? A new city every week until we find one we really like and just stay there forever?”

Y/N giggles. “That sounds like a dream, but I don’t think either of us are doing quite that well at our jobs yet. I don’t know about you, but I’m running out of leave time anyway.”

Jeonghan grumbled. He was running out of leave time too, due to this trip and his time recovering after his accident and he really would have to get back to work in just a few days. “I hope you know I’ll be bothering you every spare second you have.”

“That’s good to hear… I was beginning to worry about what things might be like when we get back,” Y/N answers softly and Jeonghan squeezes her a little tighter. 

“How do you want to spend the last night of freedom? It’s a long travel day tomorrow trapped in a cramped plane,” Jeonghan asked lightly and thankfully it lifted the mood. 

Y/N hums, smirking over her shoulder. “I’m open to suggestions.”

Jeonghan beams. “Was that a dirty joke? Who are you and what have you done with Y/N?” He laughs, pinching her waist lightly, making her giggle. He pecks her cheek. “Well since you asked, we can make use of the lovely shower again. Or the bed, which was pretty nice. Or maybe the deck or the little dining table in our room.” She’s giggling more and Jeonghan’s chest is about to burst. “Or right here in the pool.”

He gets so much enjoyment out of watching her face light up with surprise. “The pool? But anyone could come by.” Her eyes flit to the rooftop entrance behind him. 

“Yeah, angel. That’s kind of the point. What, no exhibition kink for you?” He teases, but she’s still looking around and it feels like the answer is a ‘no’. So he presses another kiss to her cheek. “I’m messing with you. We don’t have to do any of it, least of all out here.”

She’s turned in his arms now, eyes flitting between the door and his face and there’s some serious concentration going on. He waits patiently. Her eyes suddenly narrow up at him. “Do you have an exhibition kink?”

He purses his lips to keep from laughing because she looks so serious. “Yeah, I’m into it. But you need to be too or else we’re not doing anything out here.”

“I’m not saying no, Hannie. I’m just nervous.” And she sounds like it when she laughs. 

He watches her face closely. Finally, he offers, “We could start and if you want to stop you just say so.”

Y/N gives him a hesitant yet sweet smile before folding her hands into the hair at the back of his neck. “Okay.” 

He chuckles against her lips. “Cute.” But then she’s pulling him against her and her tongue is in his mouth. This is something Jeonghan doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of - her mouth and the little sounds she makes, her hands roaming his body, and the feel of her pressed against him. This doesn’t have to even go any farther honestly. He entertains the idea of doing this all night right here. Until the pool is too cold, that is.

Jeonghan grips her waist and lifts her to sit on the edge of the pool. He sees the flash of excitement just like any time he lifts or moves her with some force and he smiles, walking in between her spread legs. Because of the height difference now, he can’t press against her like before, but it’s almost better the way she’s above him now. Now he’s the one tilting his head up and she’s the one leaning down when they kiss again. The urgency of her lips and the way her nails scrape at the back of his scalp make him groan into her mouth. He was trying to play this safe and let her lead, but he couldn’t help how his hands drifted after that. 

He buries one hand in her wet hair, careful not to snag any tangles, and the other cups her breast as he just leans back and watches her. The touch is soft at first, but the way she moans makes him grope a little harder. When he runs his fingers over her nipple through her bikini it’s already stiff and he feels her shudder under his hands. She seems to have forgotten whatever anxieties she had before, so he pulls the triangular fabric to the side to expose her breast. He loses track of time on how long he stands there and works her up, pinching her nipple, groping her, stroking her. At some point, he exposes the other breast too to do the same there. She’s breathless by the time he finally leans down to wrap his lips around her nipple. She jerks violently when he bites, but the sound that comes out of her mouth is too much like a moan for her to not like it so he does it a few more times. 

He’s back up at her lips, a hand still toying with her breast when he asks, “Okay?” It’s clear she’s lost in the bliss because he barely gets a nod, and he debates on pulling her back to reality a bit. Selfishly, he’s enjoying this far too much. He wasn’t kidding about a little bit of an exhibition kink, but she was so nervous before. He grips her chin to look at him and it’s a firmer touch than he’d usually use with her, but it does the trick because her eyes snap open. “Verbal answer, angel.”

“I’m good,” she mumbles. “Keep going, please.” 

He places a single peck to her lips and then steps back because he’s already decided what he wants to try next. His hand lands on her upper chest, fingers grazing her neck. He doesn’t miss the way her eyes shift at the touch and he’ll remember that for later. Instead, he says, “Lie back,” and gently pushes her. She falls back onto her forearms, still looking at him with wide, trusting eyes and it makes him want to burst in so many ways because she looks like a dream. Especially when his hands spread her knees wide and one lands between her legs, cupping her through the string bikini, and she throws her head back. 

His hand on her chest slides to her breast as he pushes the bottoms to the side with the other to stroke her. Her hips jerk when he rubs her clit and then it’s clear she’s having a hard time staying upright on her forearms when he slides two fingers into her, all the while playing with her nipple. “It’s okay, angel, just lay back,” he urges, but she shakes her head. 

“Want to see you.”

Both her words and the sound of her voice makes Jeonghan smile, pumping his fingers a bit faster. “I have an idea.”

Y/N gives him an unfocused look. “Yeah?” 

He decides he wants to keep her talking when she’s like this because it’s making him rock hard. “How many times do you think you can come?” 

“Overstimulation kink?” She laughs faintly. “I don’t know, Hannie.” The sound of his name in that voice almost makes him come right then. “The most I’ve ever had is with you.” 

Jeonghan can’t help the smirk that falls on his lips. “What do you think about me testing that limit? All you’d have to do is tell me to stop when you’ve had enough.” His fingers are still pumping into her and playing with her nipples and she’s barely with him for the conversation. Firmly, he says, “Angel, you need to tell me what you want and what you’re okay with, or I’ll have to stop.”

Panic flashes across her face. “Please don’t stop,” she says in a desperate way that makes his mind melt. “Make me come as many times as I can take.” 

“Are you sure?” Jeonghan asked and she nods, mumbling something unintelligible, but it’s enough for Jeonghan now. His hand leaves her breast, sliding up to her neck and that same look from earlier is back, especially when his fingers wrap around her throat delicately. He doesn’t seem to need to apply any real pressure because the placement alone is enough to have her clenching hard on his fingers. “Oh, I’m going to have to use this later,” he groaned. “Come on, let me see you come.” It’s more demanding of a tone than he’d normally use but it has her coming all over his fingers in seconds. He watches her pussy pulsate around them and it makes him ache in his swim trunks. 

He pulls his fingers out and looks down at her one more time when she seems to be hearing him. “Remember, say stop. Or tap me three times.” As soon as he gets a nod, he’s leaning down, hands spreading her knees even wider. 

She barely gets a “what are you-“ out of her mouth before his tongue swipes across her pussy and he moans at the taste. This is something they hadn’t done yet and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it. But his goal is to see how many orgasms he can give her, so he doesn’t wait long to wrap his lips around her clit, flicking his tongue across it. She’s already clenching when he slides two fingers back inside her. She comes fast before she even realizes it from the sounds of it, but he keeps going and she’s adopting a whine. She leans on one forearm now as the other hand flies into his hair to grip hard. And that’s how she tips over the edge a third, fourth, and fifth time. 

She’s laying flat on her back when he stands up straight and pulls his fingers out of her. “What do you think? Can you take more?” He asks gently and it’s kind of a joke, because she doesn’t look like she can take much more, but his eyes widen when she nods. He decides he needs to get her somewhere private right now. He pulls her swimsuit back into place carefully and helps her sit up. “Come on, let’s go back to the room.”

The answer is nine times. They get approximately two hours of sleep before they have to be up to go catch their flight. They both sleep most of the way home. 

“Alright, I’ve met all of your requirements. I waited until we were both off. I bought the wine and dumplings. I put your stupid horror movie on. I’ve refrained from teasing you for nearly a week. Now tell me, dammit,” Joshua demanded, turning to her on the couch. Y/N gives him an entertained look. 

It’s Friday around lunch time and she and Joshua finally both had a day off together. He’d started nagging her as soon as she walked in the door on Saturday night, despite it being almost midnight, but Y/N had held up a hand and made a few demands. He had whined, but when she didn’t budge he just huffed and went to bed. But he made it clear first thing this morning that they had plans. 

“There’s nothing to tell you,” Y/N says, trying to hide her smirk behind a dumpling. 

Joshua looks like his head might explode. “Y/N! You spent over a week in Europe with your best friend, who you’re into, and who has been attached to your back, quite literally, every moment that neither of you are at work, and you have nothing to tell me?”

Y/N hides a laugh. Joshua is right, of course. If they were both off, Jeonghan was here or she was at his apartment. He happened to be at work right now, which is why Joshua had this opportunity to interrogate her. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Oh, I know something happened, I just want the details,” Joshua insisted. He hadn’t even touched his food or drink yet because he was too busy glaring.

“You are such a gossip,” Y/N snorted. “Fine, here it goes. We’re together. We got together during the trip.” 

“… And?” Joshua waved his hands to demand more.

“And what?” Y/N gave him a baffled look. “I told you what’s going on. We’re dating. What more do you need? Do you want to know everywhere we had sex too?”

It was a joke but it has Joshua gasping. “Are you serious? Everywhere, as in multiple times?” 

“Yeah, but that’s not something you need to know about,” Y/N rolled her eyes. 

He adopts a sly look. “Was it one of the outfits I made you pack?”

Y/N rolls her eyes yet again. “Technically speaking, it was a contributor. I hated it but he didn’t.” She still didn’t like that royal purple dress, but it got hung back up in her closet somewhere in the middle, rather than the dark recesses in the back, just in case she’d ever entertain pulling it out for Jeonghan again.

“I knew it,” Joshua yells, throwing a fist into the air in celebration. “You’re welcome. I got you laid after a very, very, very long dry spell.”

“Mhm, well, you can stop worrying about my sex life now. Thank you so much,” Y/N says sarcastically. 

“Oh, no. We’re circling back to that. But for now all I want to know is if you’re happy.”Y/N peers over her styrofoam box of dumplings at Joshua. He looks pretty serious now, waiting for an answer. She doesn’t have to think long before she smiles and nods. “And it feels right?” He adds.

“Yeah it does,” Y/N says lightly. “Everything always has with him. Even though we were both nervous wrecks when this started to shift into something else, it still felt right.”

Joshua gives her a genuine smile. “I’m happy for you, Y/N. You’ve been alone too long and I worry about you. And from what I’ve seen of you two together, it’s seamless.”

“Thanks, Joshua. I know I haven’t been the easiest to live with in that regard. I mope around a lot.”

“You do,” Joshua laughs. “But you have this… glow about you now that I think people only get when they’re in love. Is that what this is?”

Y/N bit her lip. “I’m not sure yet… I’ve always loved him, but now it’s something strong but I can’t assign a name to it right now.” After a moment, she smiles, adding, “And according to Hannie, it’s a sparkle, not a glow.”

“Sparkle. That’s a good word for it,” Joshua laughs, agreeing. “Can I request one thing though?” Y/N hums. “Can you guys not fuck loudly while I’m sleeping? I have a very serious job and I need my rest! These walls are thin!” A dumpling flies into his face.

Byeol had, in fact, picked Greece, the exact hotel they’d stayed at to be specific. Both Byeol and Seungcheol had given Y/N and Jeonghan perplexed looks when they laughed at the ‘huge’ announcement. Y/N had just simply said, “We know, Byeol. We knew it would be Greece all along.” This made Byeol spiral a bit because she felt like she’d wasted so much time and money to figure it out when two of her best friends had already known, and Seungcheol spent a long time convincing her it was no big deal and they just had a good vacation either way. He also refused to let her see the receipts in his email. None of them actually wanted to know how much he’d spent on this little exploratory trip. 

So, they book the venue for next May and take the all-inclusive wedding package that the venue offers. That really means they just have to show up with themselves, their outfits, and the rings and the thought makes Byeol’s shoulders relax immediately. They start pouring over lists of meals, cakes, decor, and flowers that the hotel can provide. When Jeonghan’s eyes widen at the stack of papers in front of him, Y/N promises this is nothing compared to what it could be. Most weddings would require going through multiple vendors and that opens up an overwhelming amount of options than what is listed from the hotel. It’s actually a blessing in disguise to have a wedding coordinator from the hotel put these sort of things together because they know what would look best, given the setting. 

So, most of October, November, and December are spent doing that in their spare moments together. The week before Christmas, all that’s left to get back to the hotel is the decor and flower choices, which are being held up by the many color swatches spread across Byeol and Seungcheol’s dining room table. They can’t pick the wedding colors and that confuses Jeonghan and Seungcheol when they’re handed nearly identical shades of blue to pick from. One is cyan and one is dark turquoise according to the printing on the bottom of the swatch but there’s so little difference that both men randomly pick one. The girls ultimately decide on dark turquoise and send their answers for decor and flowers off.

On Christmas Eve in the afternoon, Jeonghan shows up at Y/N’s apartment and lets himself in. “I’m almost ready!” A yell comes from down the hall and it makes Jeonghan laugh. He laughs harder when he comes into her room and sees that she is, in fact, not almost ready. There are a lot of discarded outfits on the bed, she’s just starting her make up, and her hair is still wet. 

“What happened, angel? You said 2pm, right?”

Y/N gives him a frazzled look as he leans on the door frame of the bathroom. “I know, but I overslept. I had to work a couple hours later than I expected and didn’t get here until 7am, and then my alarm didn’t go off at 1!” 

She’s speedily doing her makeup, but between tools, Jeonghan puts a hand on her back to interrupt her. “Angel, it’s okay. Take a deep breath. I’m not in a hurry. Dinner will still be there when we get there.”

The mention of dinner makes something flash across her face that Jeonghan hates. It’s because they’re going to meet her father, stepmother, and Jeonghan’s parents for dinner. She would have been frazzled about being late any day of the week, but their destination tonight amplifies her anxiety. “I know, but you know how my father is.”

He does and he bites his tongue as not to add to her anxiety. “And you’re 31, Y/N. It’ll be okay. Take a deep breath and finish getting ready. Slow down some.”

Jeonghan relaxes a little when she listens, taking a few breaths before picking up her makeup again. Then she dries and curls her hair. He leads her out to his car, holding the passenger side door open for her to slide in. During the drive, he tries to focus on quelling her anxiety, but he has his own to deal with and holding her thigh with her hand on top of his helps.

Jeonghan’s not close to his parents and hasn’t really been in a long time. Nothing dramatic, but as soon as he wasn’t their legal responsibility anymore, they took a big step back in the name of giving him independence. That independence also meant a single call once a month while he was in college, and even fewer now that he’s been out. They’d visited him briefly at the hospital after his accident earlier in the year, which surprised him a bit, but they’d only called once since then. So, their relationship wasn’t hostile, but there was some pretty significant distance and coming together for something like this had an air of awkwardness.

Y/N’s, and Seungcheol’s to some extent, was actually hostile however. Their parents had a nasty divorce when they were 15 and their father had left their mother with very little in the separation, including custody. His high priced lawyer had managed to convince a judge that their mother didn’t have the means to care for the twins. During the short time that Y/N and Seungcheol had been in their father’s custody, their father had remarried quickly to the young secretary that he’d been seeing on the side for years. That stepmother, Nari, had been particularly cruel to Y/N, up to and including shipping her off to a boarding school across the country citing behavioral issues. That had always been an asinine reason to Jeonghan because Y/N was as straight laced as a teenager could be and had never talked back to an adult in her life. 

Y/N had lasted about three months in boarding school before the twins’ mother had had enough and drove up to pull her out of the school and take her home. That started a nasty custody battle, which their mother ultimately won. Since then, the twins didn’t go out of their way to visit their father and their father didn’t reach out either. Christmas Eve dinner was one of the few times that they couldn’t really say no, and Jeonghan didn’t like who either twin became in that house. 

They pull up to the front of the house and Jeonghan gives Y/N a few moments to pull herself together. “In and out, a couple of hours. Then we’re at the hotel with some Christmas movies and eggnog.”

Y/N gives him a half-hearted smile. “You don’t like eggnog.”

Jeonghan squeezes her hand. “But you do. Come on.”

The front door flies open when they knock and Sohee greets him with a big smile. Sohee is wife number 4 and Jeonghan has met her a few times, as has Y/N. She’s nice, so much nicer than wifes 2 and 3 that it makes Jeonghan feel a bit bad for her. “I’m so glad you guys could make it! Here, I’ll take your coats. Was the drive okay?” Sohee asks excitedly, ushering them inside.

“Not too bad,” Jeonghan asks, shedding his coat and handing it to Sohee, before turning to Y/N to help her out of her coat. 

“We’re not too late, are we? I overslept,” Y/N admitted nervously. Jeonghan’s dimly aware that she would have never admitted this to someone like Nari to use for ammunition. 

But Sohee grins kindly. “Oh, no. Dinner’s not quite out yet and we’re just having drinks right now. Rough night?” Sohee asks sympathetically. 

“Something like that,” Y/N mumbles with a small smile. Jeonghan imagines she’s still very uncomfortable with the stepmother situation, but she’s warmer to Sohee than he’d seen with Nari or Minju. 

Sohee leads them to the sitting room and Jeonghan feels some relief that Seungcheol and Byeol are already here. Their father is in an arm chair and looks like he’s already a few drinks deep. Jeonghan’s heard through the grapevine at work that the big boss has developed a little bit of a habit over the years, but Jeonghan tries to spend very little time with him to see for himself.

Once Y/N and Jeonghan are seated on the couch, Sohee smiles at them. “I’ll make you two a drink. I forget, do you like grenadine?” Both nod their head and Sohee is off.

“Seungcheol and Byeol were just telling me about how the wedding planning is going,” Y/N’s father starts lightly. 

Y/N nodded politely. “Yes, it’s all starting to come together. I think it’ll be a beautiful ceremony.”

“That’s all thanks to you, Y/N,” Byeol beamed, before turning to Mr. Choi. “She’s been such a huge help in keeping me sane and on track. Jeonghan, too.”

Mr. Choi nods. “Good to hear.” Then he turns with an expression that Jeonghan has never really seen in 30 years. “I hear you two have some news as well.”

Y/N and Jeonghan glance across the coffee table to Seungcheol and Byeol who give subtle shakes of the head. It’s kind of a mystery how Mr. Choi knows, but Jeonghan nods, smiling professionally. After all, this is his CEO. “Yes, sir. We’ve been dating for a few months now.”

Mr. Choi gives a big grin and Jeonghan feels Y/N grip his hand tightly. “It’s about time.”

Jeonghan feels his eyes widen and Y/N glances to him with matching shock. “Uhm, excuse me?” Y/N asked. It’s to their great surprise that Seungcheol and Byeol are giggling now. This is feeling a bit like the twilight zone because laughter isn’t something that’s terribly common in this house.

“We’ve been taking bets for a long time,” Mr. Choi says vaguely. “Any wedding bells in the future? I have some money at risk and I’d like to know.”

Y/N is still gripping his hand tight and one glance to her tells Jeonghan that she won’t be answering, so Jeonghan speaks up again. “We’re not opposed to it, but things are still very new,” he says diplomatically.

“Fair enough. One wedding at a time, right?” Mr. Choi says lightly again. 

Sohee arrives with their drinks as well as Jeonghan’s parents. The same conversations are rehashed with them as well, and Jeonghan does most of the talking when it’s their turn because Y/N’s knuckles are turning white. 

At the dining table, Sohee serves a rather lavish meal that she looks pretty proud of. Jeonghan enjoys it, but he sees that Y/N is taking bites only to be polite. Throughout dinner, Mr. Choi, Sohee, and Jeonghan’s parents ask the typical questions of Seungcheol and Byeol regarding wedding planning. 

Jeonghan’s mother smiles at them and Jeonghan knows what’s coming because he’s seen that look before. “And when do you plan on having children?”

Byeol flushes a bit but smiles nonetheless, glancing at Seungcheol. “As soon as we’re married?” The older adults laugh.

“Be careful with that, you should enjoy some time by yourselves, because you’ll never have it again,” Jeonghan’s father teases. It makes Jeonghan’s eye twitch because he spent a lot of time with nannies growing up. 

“Byeol, will you continue working after you have children?” Sohee asked. She doesn’t seem to mean anything by it. She was a lawyer before marrying Y/N’s father, and still consults on some cases from time to time.

“Oh, I’m not sure yet. Since I’m freelance, I can do a lot on my own schedule, so it might not be necessary to quit working. Plus, I enjoy my work,” Byeol says. 

Mr. Choi frowns. “But children are far more important than work, especially for a mother.” Byeol agrees, but Mr. Choi is on a roll, turning to Seungcheol. “You’d want her to work, rather than stay at home?”

“Appa, that’s up to her. Plenty of people make it work and children don’t seem to suffer for it,” Seungcheol says, clearly biting back a bit of impatience. 

Mr. Choi turns to Jeonghan and Y/N. “And you two? What will you do when you have children?”

Jeonghan tries to maintain a poker face. “I agree with Seungcheol. Y/N’s spent a lot of time working on her degrees. It would be a shame in a way to not use them.”

“It’s not a waste if it’s for your children,” Mr. Choi snaps. “Y/N, would you seriously continue working, particularly with the crazy schedule you keep?”

There’s a fire in Y/N’s eyes that he doesn’t see often. She’s not quick to anger, but that’s not the case tonight. She’s been at a tipping point since they pulled into the driveway. “Appa, we’ve just started dating. Marriage and children aren’t even part of the conversation for us right now. And even if it was, you’d want me to throw away over a decade of education? I’m not even licensed yet.”

“Your stupid license means very little compared to my grandchild,” Mr. Choi rages. 

“Is that what you said to Eomma when she wanted to go to nursing school?” Y/N bites and it makes most jaws at the table drop. Y/N has always been so even tempered and has certainly never talked back to her parents - or anyone older than her for that matter.

Sohee interrupts and does her best to save the conversation, but it does very little to release the tension for the remainder of the dinner. They get through the main course and dessert and Jeonghan makes the excuse that they should go soon. Seungcheol and Byeol look a little relieved to be able to use the same excuse too. Y/N all but runs to the car when Sohee sees them out and Jeonghan is barely out of the driveway before she’s crying. 

It’s a short drive to the hotel since they’re visiting Y/N’s mother in town tomorrow morning, but Jeonghan decides that if this lasts long enough to see marriage and children, which he hopes it does, he won’t let her father have this kind of power over her anymore.

[aimedis]

WORST KIND OF FLIRT (A TEASE) | WIP WEDNESDAY !!

vincent x lovely actors!au | happy new year everybody! i hope 2025 treats you all well. as my gift to you i shall present you with none other than the unedited version of chapter one of this idea that i talked about ages ago. i've had this chapter written for like about a month and a half but don't get your hopes up for the remaining chapters 😭 i'm gonna try but i honestly can't write for shit and i have no motivation. but if you guys like it, i'll try harder ig lmao

cw - actor au obvi, directors!angel and david, love at first sight but it's literally just lovely and vincent flirting immediately (they don't actually fall in love until later), lovely being a bit insecure, mainly lovely's pov (it switches to angel and david for a second), korean!vincent and lovely, mentions of vincent being adopted by william at ten years old for unspecified reasons, we're ignoring the drama going on between them rn okay, darlin shows up for half a second and sam for even less, says 'laughs' way too much, i know nothing about acting and auditions and whatnot okay 😭

wc - 3.6k

hope you enjoy!

“You’re going to be a star.”

Lovely’s been told that close to a billion times in their life. It used to make them really happy when they were a kid. They’d grin up at their mom when she would tell them about all the awesome movies and TV shows they would act in once they were older. They’d practice in front of a mirror for hours at a time, reciting the few lines they were expected to memorise as a little eight-year-old. Even at that age, they wanted more. More lines, more chances to prove themselves worthy of the big screen, more of the spotlight. They only wanted to shine as bright as possible, to make their family proud.

“You’re a star.”

It feels egotistical to them, to say that they’re a star. But it would be completely ignorant of them to pretend they hadn’t made it far. Getting recognized every time they stepped foot outside, having people stand in line for autographs, people using their name and face for school projects, and not to mention, getting thousands of dollars just to say the name of a brand. As much as it warmed their heart, it got to be quite disorienting at times. To think that they went from being a complete nobody outside of their school plays and small commercials to being so… well known.

It was also really privacy-invading. Paparazzi was going to be the death of them.

But that’s the price I pay, Lovely muses to themselves as they try their best to breeze past the flashing lights and cameras being shoved in their face while they try to walk into the studio.

“..they could be a little less obnoxious about it though. Can’t believe this shit’s legal.”

Lovely looks up and squints to regain steady vision from nearly being blinded. Belatedly, they snort when they see Darlin glaring at the door they had just walked through.

“Yeah,” They say breathlessly, slipping their jacket off.

Darlin pats them on the head, “You need anything before they call you in? They said in about half an hour.”

Lovely leans into their hand, “‘M okay. I’ll just play games on my phone. Did Sam go in already for Daniel?”

The (slightly) taller of the two nods and gently leads Lovely over to a few seats in a slightly secluded area, “He should be done a little while though. I already went so do you want us to wait with you before you go in? We can take you home.”

Lovely was tempted to say no, say that they don’t need to look after them. They wanted to say that they weren’t a baby (even though they were significantly younger than both Darlin and Sam) who needed to be coddled.

But when Darlin guides them to sit down, fixing their hair, they only exhale softly. As long as they don’t need to call an Uber.

“Yes please. If it’s not too much trouble.”

Darlin grins, “Never for you, spark.”

Lovely huffs and pouts up at them, “Don’t call me that, weirdo.”

They only laugh and sit next to Lovely, sliding their phone out of their back pocket.

They rest their head on Darlin’s shoulder, going to scroll on their own phone to kill time.

✩★✩★✩

Lovely inhales sharply when their name is called out along with someone else. They clear their throat, and stand up, “Wish me luck, I guess.”

It shouldn’t still make them so nervous to do auditions after doing so many of them in their life. And it usually doesn’t. However, not only was this film one of the bigger ones they were called in to audition for, their agent said this one was right up their alley. And after they read the summary and script, they agreed. This one was perfect for them. The character Kaia was perfect for them. They wanted this role more than they’ve wanted any role in their life.

The male lead Lucas also happened to be their ideal type but that was neither here nor there.

“Good luck,” Sam flashes them a smile, “This is easy work for you.”

Darlin nods, “Don’t stress, you’ve got this in the bag.”

But what if someone better comes around?

Lovely leaves that unsaid, now was not the time to be insecure. They needed to have confidence.

But really they couldn’t help themselves, they read a couple hate comments too. Of course, they tried to tell themselves that the positive outweighs the negative and that the good comments were always so much more detailed and substantial than just “they’re not pretty”.

They take a deep breath and nod once, hardly noticing the other actor who stood up at the same time, walking back into the audition room. They smile back at Sam and Darlin before turning around.

They’re a star.

✩★✩★✩

Lovely walks slowly into the backroom where the auditions were being held, seeing only one other person standing around the door. They were so stuck in their own head about the person they would be acting with that they failed to notice the person they would be acting with.

They’re going over their lines in their head as they step into the hallway, reminding themselves to breathe when a voice knocks them out of their train of thought.

“So, you’re my Kaia.”

Lovely’s face prematurely scrunches in disgust before they even turn to look at whoever this guy was, not registering his tone and utterly annoyed they had to act with one of those guys. Again. They’ve worked with people like him before, revolting middle-aged men who only looked younger and thought it was okay to touch and sleazily flirt with their young co-star because they played love interests. Every other film they’ve acted in since they were 18. They were sick and tired and really wanted to enjoy this one so they turned to face this supposed middle-aged man so they could tell him off and set some boundaries.

However, they were met with the most handsome face they’ve ever seen in their life. He was smiling, not smirking, at them, his eyes shimmered even in the bright fluorescent lights, and his face looked sculpted by the gods. Lovely couldn’t help but let their eyes trail further down, scanning his body that they could somehow tell was just perfect underneath his hoodie and baggy jeans.

He laughs and—holy shit, Lovely thinks they’ve died and gone to heaven, he was so beautiful. Lovely snaps out of their little trance and meets his eyes properly, his beautiful brown eyes, when it clicks.

Oh my god, this is Vincent Solaire.

They also hadn’t known him personally, they acted in very different genres. They hadn’t even been a fan, per say. But he was just as well-known as they were. William Solaire, his father and agent, was a director they had worked under and that was one of their favourites.

Lovely inhales when Vincent brushes his hair out of his face.

“I would say you match Kaia’s description perfectly but.. I think you’re better.”

“Oh yeah?” Lovely laughs breathily, “Do you flatter all of your co-stars like this, or am I special?”

Vincent looks them up and down slightly and Lovely swears he looks at their lips, “You’re definitely.. special, Lovely was it?”

They nod, “Vincent?”

“In the flesh,” He grins.

Lovely smiles back, not having it in them to feel ashamed at the blush spreading across their face, only because he was blushing too.

“You don’t usually act in rom-coms,” Lovely hums, leaning back against the wall, “Why this one?”

Vincent’s grin widens, “You keep tabs on what I act in?”

Lovely shrugs, “I mean you’re not a nobody, I’ve seen you around. And where you are, Sam is. Gotta support my best friend’s man, you know?”

Vincent breathes a laugh, “Ah, that’s right. You’re Darlin’s twin flame.”

“In the flesh,” They repeat with a matching smile.

Vincent scoffs playfully, “Copy cat.”

Lovely snorts.

“Well,” Vincent continues, “I just wanted to try something new, you know? You can only act in thrillers and shit like that for so long before you need to switch it up to something more lighthearted.” He says, still smiling.

Lovely senses that wasn’t the whole truth but they nod, “I see. I’ve only acted in a handful of horror movies but I get it. They’re a little draining.”

“Oh yeah, you were in Locked Down.” He recalls, “I love that movie, you were phenomenal in it. Your acting was so realistic.”

Lovely smiles slightly, they always got a little sheepish whenever they got praised for their acting or any skill at all. You’d think they’d be used to it by now.

“Yeah well,” They clear their throat, “Screaming so much made my head hurt for days so I would hope it was good.”

Vincent laughs a bit hesitantly, “I’d say it paid off.”

Lovely laughs as well, going to say something else but the door in front of them swings open a little. They glance over only to freeze at the familiar face of Angel Shaw themselves standing in front of them.

Not familiar on a personal level, of course not. Lovely had never met them personally, but they and their husband were some of the most famous actors turned directors in North America. Lovely grew up watching Angel on TV and they were part of the reason Lovely even wanted to act in the first place. But even as they rose in popularity, Lovely always admired Angel and David and any film they directed. It was another recent dream of theirs to act under them, and this was their chance.

Angel looks at the two actors standing around the door and they smile, stepping out to show their full body, “Good morning, you two! Good to see you again, Vincent. We’ll be right with you both in a moment.” They turn to look at Lovely specifically, “Hi, there. I know we talked over the phone once and I’ve spoken with your agent but it’s nice to see you in person.”

You wouldn’t believe how happy I am right now, Lovely cried internally, trying to hide the star struck look on their face.

They clear their throat, “I-It’s nice to see you too. I’m a really big fan of your and David’s work.”

Angel laughs softly, “Why, thank you! That means a lot. We also enjoy watching you act, it’s truly beautiful.”

Lovely nearly died on the spot and they prayed to whatever god was listening that it didn’t show on their face. They barely squeak out a ‘thank you’ before Angel settles back into their professionalism.

They look at their clipboard, “So, you’ve both been called in to play the main characters and love interests Kaia and Lucas obviously. This “audition” is mainly just to see how well you two act together. Your chemistry, if you will. You’ll have like five-ish minutes to talk with each other and introduce yourselves and then we’ll start, okay?”

They both nod and Angel looks back up.

“Okay!” They smile and peer back into the room, “David? Are we good to go?”

“Yeah, send ‘em in.”

Angel nods towards the inside of the room, “Come on in then.”

Lovely dazedly steps into the room.

The room was bigger than it looked from the outside. There was a long table with six seats, four of which were occupied, the one to the right of David Shaw was empty, Lovely assumes that’s Angel's seat.

Angel points to the small table, “You guys can sit over there and get to know each other a little better and we’ll call you over, alright?”

Lovely and Vincent both nod and step in sync over to the corner. They both sit down and smile at each other.

“So Vincent, where are you from?” Lovely asks.

Vincent grins, “Well, I think it’s common knowledge that I was adopted by William when I was 10. But my birth parents were Korean and so were most of my foster parents until William adopted me.”

Lovely’s eyes light up, “Oh same!” They pause with a small laugh, “Not that- not that I was adopted but my parents are both Korean immigrants.”

Vincent laughs as well, “Really? Do you speak Korean then?”

Lovely’s nose scrunches, “I’m like- fairly fluent. I’m not as well-spoken as I am in English. My dad dogs on me for it all the time. You?”

“God, I have the speaking ability of a fourth grader.” Vincent scoffs, “Obviously, since I was adopted at 10 by a non-Korean man, my Korean just stopped ageing with me once I stopped putting in effort.”

They nod with a smile, “I get it. Have you tried learning more now that you’re an adult?”

“Not really? I think I tried a couple times when I turned 21 but I got impatient. But hey, maybe you could teach me,” Vincent tilts his head to the side, smiling at them.

Lovely stops breathing as they glance down at his lips.

“Yeah… I could.”

They blink when Vincent laughs, focusing back on his eyes.

“Mesmerized, Lovely?” He hums, beaming from ear to ear.

Lovely scoffs playfully, “You wish, pretty boy.”

“Think I’m pretty, huh?”

“Yeah well,” They smile a little more shyly, “I’m not blind.”

They delight in seeing the slight pink tint that spreads across Vincent’s cheeks.

He grins slightly, returning the small glance down at Lovely’s lips, “Yeah? I think you’re pretty too. Gorgeous, even.”

Lovely breathes a short flustered laugh, “Jeez, is this a part of the script? This is a lot of flattery for getting to know my co-star for an audition.”

Vincent laughs a little louder, “I’m only getting into character, of course. My Kaia.” He reaches over to gently hold Lovely’s hand laying on the table.

And Lovely feels their entire stomach light up brighter than a Fourth of July night. They swallow, forcing themselves to keep their breathing stable. They sigh shakily, “Yeah…”

Neither of them realize how long they’ve been looking into each other’s eyes until David’s voice calls from the other side of the room.

“We’re ready to get started, you two. Are you ready?”

Neither of them flinch. Not at all.

Vincent looks away first and gently drops Lovely’s hand, nodding at the directors. The two stand and walk over to stand in front of the table.

“Alright,” Angel looks up from the papers in front of them and smiles, “You can start whenever you’re ready.”

Vincent and Lovely both nod at the directors and then at each other, settling themselves into their roles. By the light waltz music starts playing softly in the background, they are both fully immersed into another world.

Vincent smiles completely poised in a way that is unlike earlier, holding his hand out towards Lovely, “Kaia. I’ve heard a lot about you from your father.”

Lovely grins back at him hesitantly, taking his hand, “That so? Lucas, is it?”

He hums as he pulls them into a slow dance of swaying back and forth, holding onto their waist loosely with his free hand, “That’s me. Prince of the House of Solaire.”

Lovely rests their right hand on Vincent’s shoulder, “Not the typical name for a royal, hm? I saw a picture of you and assumed James or Alexander.”

Vincent laughs.

✩★✩★✩

David leans over to whisper in Angel’s ear as the other casting directors spoke to the two, “They’re really good at this. I could hardly tell they were reading off a script.”

Angel snorts, tapping their pen against their paper, “Uh huh.”

He furrows his brows, “What, you don’t think they’re good?”

“No, no, not that. They’re wonderful,” Angel shakes their head with a laugh, “They’re just uhh- it feels like a little more than acting, no?”

David shrugs with a small smile, “I don’t know, Angel, maybe they’re just good at their job.”

“Right.” They roll their eyes, “And they were eye-fucking over there without the script for fun.”

“You shouldn’t speak about your actors like that, Angel.” David breathes a laugh, “And you know how insane actors are these days when it comes to getting into character. Remember Milo and the FBI Agent Incident?”

Angel stifles a louder laugh, “Oh god. They weren’t even using real guns for the shoot, he didn’t need to go to a shooting range everyday for a month.”

David bites his tongue with a grin, turning back to the two once Babe had finished speaking. He writes something down on his sheet of paper, “That was great guys, thank you so much. That’ll be it. We’ll get back to you in the next week.”

Angel bids the two goodbye and rests their head on David’s shoulder once they’re out of the room, looking down at his papers and snorting, “Didn’t need any time to think about it, huh?

David shakes his head, “God, no. They’ve had the job since they walked in here.”

✩★✩★✩

Vincent holds the door open for Lovely as they leave, to which they snort.

“Thanks, prince charming.” They pat his shoulder playfully.

He laughs and closes it behind him. Lovely jerks their head to the side to indicate Vincent follow them back to the main part of the building with a confidence they did not feel.

Vincent sticks his hands in his pockets, “Not to sound too proud, but I think we nailed that.”

“Obviously,” Lovely nods with a smile,”You could have looked at my lips a little less though.”

His eyes scrunch up into those little half-moons again to emphasize his amusement, “Well, who could blame me? They’re very nice to look at.”

Lovely raises an eyebrow, stopping once they reach the end-of-hallway door, “Only to look at?”

Vincent, once again, glances down at their lips as they spin around to face him whilst leaning against the door. He breathes a barely there ghost of a laugh, “Maybe more. Who knows?”

Lovely can’t contain the wide smile that overtakes their features, squeezing a fist behind their back to attempt to contain their excitement. Vincent looks back up at their eyes after a moment, shifting back into focus.

His head tilts slightly and he smiles sincerely, “You have beautiful eyes, Lovely.”

How they didn’t collapse right then and there, they’ll never know. Feeling crimson creeping onto their cheeks, Lovely laughs lightly and scratches their nose.

They had never been able to take praise of any kind without feeling like their entire body was on fire. They always laughed the compliment off or redirected it out of pure embarrassment. Recently, that is. Being in the spotlight so often since the age of 17 had indirectly forced them to be better at accepting the praise. Being ‘The Star of the Big Screen’ meant being continuously lauded all over the internet and often to their face during interviews or fan-meetings. They had spent so many hours in their bedroom, in cars, or in hotel rooms practicing their “poker face” and willing themself to never show a single person outside of their close circle how much a little praise flustered them.

The way Vincent spoke to them undid all of that. The tone of his voice, his gaze, his fucking confidence. If their body was on fire when it came to anyone else, he made them feel like they had just been thrown into a volcano.

And they could only thank whoever was listening that their days of tripping over their feet, choking, or sometimes straight up running away were over. The only thing that would be more humiliating than being complimented by the most beautiful person they’ve ever seen would be fumbling themself in front of him.

Shaking off their inner-monologue, they grin at him again, “Thank you. All the compliments today, are you sure this is still ‘getting into character’?”

“Of course, I have to really step into Lucas’ shoes.”

“Uh huh,” Lovely shakes their head with a laugh, “Sure.”

“Really! In fact, I’ll do the most Lucas thing ever and ask for your number!” He grins again, reaching into his back pocket for his phone.

They stare at him with barely concealed mirth, “The most Lucas thing ever? Really?”

“Nah,” He snorts, unlocking his phone, “It’s a Vincent thing for sure.”

Lovely doesn’t think their heart is supposed to skip that many beats but they chuckle and accept the phone offered to them, typing in their number quickly.

“Thank you kindly,” Vincent says, taking his phone back. Lovely hums and leans off the door, swinging it open and stepping in time with Vincent back to the entrance.

They both wave to Sam and Darlin’ still sitting there in the corner. Sam stops talking when he sees the two of them, waving back and the two stand up.

“Hey.” Darlin says, stretching their arms, “How’d it go?”

Lovely and Vincent exchange a short look.

“Good,” They both say at the same time, sharing a smile.

Sam raises an intrigued eyebrow but he smiles back, “That’s good. Do you know when you’ll get the call back?”

“Ah, David said within the next week,” Vincent says.

The two in front of them nod and Sam glances to the door.

“Is William picking you up, Vincent?”

Vincent nods and takes a look at his phone, “And he’s already here.” He looks up with a little smile that was mostly directed at Lovely, “Bye, guys. See you later.”

Lovely waves back at him, letting their gaze linger a little longer than normal until Darlin’ clears their throat.

And whatever confidence Lovely had vanished the second they were alone with Darlin’ and Sam.

────────

so uh, i meant to post this before 12am where i am buttttttt.... it's surely still january 1st somewhere 😄

[multiheadcanons]

TF2 MERCS AND ACHE

scout: his face twists up. it’s hard to keep his nose from sneering and his lips from turning to a scowl. walks around with balled fists and his eyes glued to the floor. jaw clencher. eerily quiet. a rare moment where he is non-combative. he sits in his room in silence, knees drawn to his chest while he stares holes in the wall

soldier: another eerily quiet sadness. waits patiently for someone to give him something to do. if there’s nothing to do, he’ll sit in the mess hall with an empty plate and wait for someone to talk to him. he just can’t bring himself to make the first move to talk to another person. grabs at his chest and frowns, occasionally giving his heart a gruff rub from the outside. a simple pull of his lips down further than they normally are.

pyro: just lights things on fire and sits in the bright heat until it’s all they feel. they don’t normally feel aches like this anymore. and everything is at risk of the flame while they feel this way. stares at their gloved hands for too long. huffs and shakes their head a lot. their imaginations aren’t strong enough to shield what they see sometimes, and they get mad about it.

engineer: hermit. sits outside, as far away as he can get from the base so he can sigh and worry without feeling like he’s bringing the energy down. he knows his coworkers aren’t the chatty kind in this sense. this is when his intelligence fails him. when he has to think about his philosophies; and when he has to sit in ache. hates the chest ache. hates that it won’t go away. eventually returns to the base, seemingly normal.

heavy: he’ll actually open up to someone about it; be it medic or demo…. anyone. anyone who will listen. if only for his small updates. “my heart aches.” “i ache for home.” will call his sisters if he can; it’s just not enough sometimes. he wants his family to hold and love. his team is just not enough sometimes, love them as he may. sometimes his family isn’t either. he’s never sure what he needs; he just knows he’s not getting it here right now.

demo: will turn to drink if it’s that bad. otherwise, aching is good for the heart. reminds him he’s here, he’s living, even if he doesn’t know what for yet. refuses to get jokes. unusually combative and confrontational before he can admit he’s hurting. when he’s willing to admit it, he feels a lot better just knowing his teammates know. doesn’t remove the ache, but it eases it a little.

medic: ache hits him as he’s in the throes of action. it’s his falter. sentences trail off; he gets lost somewhere in his mind. quiet, unsettled “huh”s and “hm”s. gets bad ocular migraines, until he’s rendered effectively useless, laying on the surgery table in darkness to ease his head any way he can. almost always hits in battle. has walked into direct fire from the fog that clouds his mind. paces. sits in the respawn room for hours in the hopes someone is sent there, forced to speak to him in a somewhat natural way.

sniper: always plays out the same way. he’ll sit in a dimly lit room. takes his hat off and sighs. stares at the hat in his hands, and buries his face in his hands until his palms are wet with tears. sniffles, wipes his eyes, and continues on his day. quiet and tired, but that’s never new. this is a daily occurrence since he got to teufort. sometimes he’ll even be friendlier. easier to get along with so he can feel less weird and messy. he craves normalcy. this has led to some interesting fiascos in his friendliness and willingness to do anything other than sit alone.

spy: another hermit. easily annoyed and fast to argue and fight, and he’s knows that so he stays in his room; knees pulled to his chin, as he stares holes in the wall. hands remain balled when they’re not fidgeting with something. restless. plays with his knife until it slips from his hands, then gets mad at it. gets mad at everything. a sneerer. jaw sets firmly.

[mywitchyblog]

Reacting Answering and debunking Kristine s take on shifting (girl who talked about genetics and shifting)

Let’s clear the air, babes. 💅✨"

So, I know some of y’all might have stumbled across that TikTok from @sectumsempress (Christine), and if you haven’t yet, let me sum it up: it’s a video where she dives into her takes on shifting—some thought-provoking, some solid, and others… well, let’s just say they need a little rethinking.

Now, before anyone panics or starts spiraling, let me reassure you: you’re not doing anything wrong. Shifting is a personal journey, and one person’s opinions (even if they’re loud and sassy) don’t define the truth. If you’re feeling overwhelmed by her claims, breathe, because I’ve got you.

I’m here to break down her points one by one: where she’s spot on, where she’s almost there, and where she’s just plain off the mark. This isn’t about dragging anyone—it’s about keeping the shifting community informed, confident, and empowered.

Remember, babe: shifting is real, it’s valid, and you are more than capable of mastering it. Let’s dive into this post with clarity, sass, and a sprinkle of tough love. We’re addressing it all, and we’re doing it together. 💖✨

Taglist :

1: "I don't know what it is, but I do think there is a genetic component to who can and cannot shift."

Oh, honey. Let me stop you right there. Reality shifting is about consciousness, not chromosomes. No one’s out here unlocking DRs with their DNA. If shifting were genetic, then wouldn’t identical twins always have the same shifting abilities? Newsflash: they don’t. Shifting is deeply personal—it’s shaped by belief systems, practice, and the state of your subconscious mind.

Let’s talk logic:

If shifting were genetic, why do people from all backgrounds, ages, and cultures shift successfully?

If genes dictated shifting ability, how do beginners with no spiritual training manage to shift while seasoned practitioners struggle sometimes?

This "genetic component" claim feels like an excuse to gatekeep shifting behind a veil of exclusivity. You don’t need elite DNA—you need clarity, discipline, and faith in your abilities. What you’re really saying here is “I’m struggling and need something to blame.” Blame your approach, babe, not your ancestors. Shifting doesn’t care about your family tree; it cares about your mindset. 🧬✨

2: "Out of everyone who can shift, most of them shouldn't, including myself when I first started."

Now this is projection if I’ve ever seen it. Just because you weren’t ready when you started doesn’t mean the rest of the community isn’t. People shift for their own reasons, whether it’s healing, exploration, fun, or growth. Who are you to decide who should and shouldn’t explore their consciousness?

Let’s unpack this:

Shifting is a skill, and like any skill, it comes with a learning curve. Mistakes and missteps are part of the process. No one is perfect at it from the jump, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t try.

This idea of “most people shouldn’t shift” reeks of elitism. What’s the criteria? Who makes the rules? Oh wait—you don’t, because this is an individual journey.

And let’s not ignore the thinly veiled guilt here. “Including myself when I first started” screams “I made mistakes, so no one else should try.” No, sis, you made mistakes so others can learn and grow. Let people figure it out for themselves—your experience isn’t universal. Stay humble. 💁‍♀️✨

3: "If shifting is affecting your current reality to the point where your mental health plummets and you can't function, the cost is too high. This is also at past me."

Okay, valid point. For once, we’re aligned—but let’s add nuance. Shifting itself isn’t the villain here. The problem arises when someone uses shifting as an escape or obsesses over their DR to the detriment of their CR.

Here’s the truth:

Shifting works best when you’re grounded in your CR. Neglecting your CR responsibilities, ignoring self-care, or avoiding real-life problems will inevitably lead to burnout. Your CR self is the foundation for all your realities. If you’re not taking care of yourself here, it’s going to show up in your DR too.

Balance is key. Shifting can be an incredible tool for healing and self-discovery, but it’s not a replacement for addressing your mental health or real-life challenges.

Let’s also call out this “past me” comment. You’re shading yourself for your mistakes, which is fair, but don’t let that self-criticism turn into fear-mongering for others. Instead of saying “the cost is too high,” try saying, “Learn from my mistakes and prioritize your well-being.” That’s the energy we need. 🧠✨

4: "I think there will come a time when shifting is able to be explained scientifically."

Now we’re getting somewhere. Yes, science may eventually catch up, but let’s not act like shifting is waiting for permission to exist. Just because something isn’t fully understood doesn’t mean it’s invalid. Dreams weren’t “real” until REM sleep was discovered. Electricity wasn’t harnessed until the right tools were developed. Shifting is the same—it’s ahead of its time.

Here’s the tea:

Quantum physics already hints at the nature of reality being far more fluid and observer-dependent than we once thought. Concepts like the observer effect and parallel universes align with what shifters describe.

Neurology is just scratching the surface of how visualization and intention shape the brain. Lucid dreaming, meditation, and neuroplasticity all prove that the mind is capable of extraordinary things.

The fact that shifting isn’t yet measurable doesn’t diminish its validity. Science is a tool, not a dictator of truth. Shifting is real now, and science will catch up later. Don’t let the lack of a peer-reviewed study make you doubt your own experiences. 🔬✨

5: "The majority of people on Shiftok in 2020 were lying."

You’re not wrong, but let’s dig deeper. Were there liars? Absolutely. TikTok’s algorithm rewards drama, and fake success stories grabbed attention. But dismissing the entire Shiftok community as liars is lazy and reductive.

Here’s what really happened:

Many people on Shiftok were genuine shifters sharing their tips and experiences. The problem was that TikTok favored sensationalism over authenticity. Real advice got buried under Hogwarts weddings and Draco stans claiming they had seven kids in one night. 🐍✨

The fake stories weren’t malicious—they were clout-chasing. People wanted likes, and exaggerating their experiences worked.

But let’s not let the liars overshadow the genuine shifters who were out there putting in the work. Misinformation thrived because of the platform, not because everyone was lying. Don’t throw out the whole community just because some people were playing the algorithm. 🌟✨

6: "Way more people outside of the internet shift than we think they do, and most of them are adults."

This one is surprisingly solid, but let’s add some layers. Shifting has been around forever—it’s not a TikTok invention. People have been exploring alternate realities under different names, like astral projection, lucid dreaming, and deep meditation, for centuries. These practices have roots in spiritual traditions across cultures, often led by—you guessed it—adults.

Why don’t we hear more about these adults?

They’re less likely to post about it online because they don’t care about clout or “DR trends.”

Many adults see shifting as a private, sacred practice rather than something to flex.

But here’s where the take falters: don’t dismiss teens and younger people just because they’re more visible online. Shifting transcends age. The internet didn’t create shifting; it just gave teens a platform to talk about it. And let’s not act like adults are automatically better at it—age doesn’t guarantee discipline or skill, hun. Stop pitting age groups against each other. Shifting is for everyone, whether you’re 15 or 50. 🌌✨

7: "Nine out of ten times, teenagers do not have the emotional maturity or mental capacity to handle a DR. I know I sure wouldn't have been able to."

Okay, this one SCREAMS projection. Just because you weren’t ready doesn’t mean an entire generation of teenagers isn’t. Emotional maturity isn’t an age—it’s a mindset. While it’s true that some teens might struggle with the responsibilities or intensity of a DR, plenty of them are capable of handling it.

Here’s what you’re missing:

Shifting is deeply personal. One teen’s DR might be about living in Hogwarts, while another’s might be about exploring their self-worth or healing trauma. What they can handle depends on their intent and preparation—not their birth year.

This take also assumes that adults magically have their lives together. Let’s be real—plenty of adults couldn’t handle a DR either. Emotional maturity is learned through experience, not something that just arrives with age.

Instead of writing off teenagers as too immature, why not empower them to approach shifting responsibly? Help them understand the importance of grounding techniques, journaling, and balancing their CR. Support them instead of gatekeeping, babe. Growth comes from guidance, not judgment. 🖤✨

8: "Shifting to live as a child when you are an adult is wrong."

Oh, let’s unpack this nonsense, because the judgment here is LOUD and unnecessary. Shifting to live as a child isn’t inherently “wrong”—it’s all about intent. People shift to younger ages for all kinds of valid reasons:

Healing: Someone who had a traumatic childhood might shift to experience the innocence and joy they missed out on. That’s not “wrong”—it’s deeply therapeutic.

Nostalgia: Revisiting a simpler time in life can be comforting and grounding.

Where’s the harm if someone is revisiting their childhood for healing or self-discovery? The only time this could be “wrong” is if someone’s doing it for malicious, fetishistic, or exploitative reasons. And let’s be clear—that’s an issue with the person’s intent, not the act of shifting itself.

This take reeks of moral grandstanding. If you don’t understand why someone might shift to a younger age, maybe try asking instead of judging. People’s reasons for shifting are complex and personal. Stay in your lane and let them live. 🍼✨

9: "Shifting to live as an adult when you are a child is wrong."

And here comes the hypocrisy. Why is shifting to an adult age suddenly a problem? If a teenager shifts to experience independence, maturity, or even just to see what adulthood is like, how is that “wrong”?

Let’s break it down:

Exploring independence: Teens often feel powerless in their CR lives. Shifting to adulthood can give them a sense of control or help them explore who they want to be.

Learning experiences: Shifting to an adult DR doesn’t mean teens are out here taking real-world risks. It’s an internal journey. They’re not suddenly going to have access to bank accounts or responsibilities in their CR.

The issue isn’t teens shifting to adult ages—it’s how they approach adult themes. If a teen shifts irresponsibly or romanticizes harmful aspects of adulthood, that’s a learning opportunity, not a reason to gatekeep. Let them explore and grow. The real world isn’t handing out “mature enough” badges; why should shifting? 🔑✨

10: "Shifting is a perception of reality that takes place inside your own mind, and this does not make it any less real."

Babe, what even IS this take? Calling shifting “a perception of reality inside your own mind” is the laziest oversimplification. It’s like saying the ocean is just “wet stuff” or the universe is just “space.” Shifting is SO much more than a mental exercise.

Here’s why this is bullshit:

Shifters report full sensory immersion in their DRs—smells, tastes, and even physical sensations. That’s not just perception; that’s a relocation of awareness.

Many shifters describe gaining knowledge or skills in their DRs that they couldn’t have fabricated in their CR minds. That’s evidence of connection to a separate reality, not just “perception.”

Saying it’s all in your head is reductive and dismissive. Shifting isn’t just a daydream or lucid dream—it’s a deliberate movement of consciousness.

By this logic, everything you experience is just “perception,” and therefore not real. Do better. Shifting is as real as the CR you’re reading this in—it’s just on a different frequency. 🌀✨

11: "Therefore, perma shifting is impossible."

Who told you this? Perma shifting isn’t just possible—it’s the logical extension of what shifting already is. If infinite realities exist and your consciousness can relocate temporarily, what exactly is stopping it from staying permanently?

Let’s debunk this thoroughly:

Shifting doesn’t require you to return to your CR. You’re not tethered here by some metaphysical leash. If you can spend weeks in a DR, why not forever?

This take assumes that your CR body is what keeps you “alive.” Wrong. Your consciousness is the seat of your existence, not the meat suit you’re wearing in your CR.

The only barrier to perma shifting is fear or lack of belief. People who say it’s impossible are projecting their own limitations. If shifting is real, so is perma shifting. Stop trying to box people into your doubts. Perma shifters are already out there living their best DR lives while you’re here arguing with yourself. 🖤✨

12: "Your body will not get up and do things while you're shifting."

Okay, I’ll give credit where it’s due—this one is spot on. Your CR body doesn’t suddenly start sleepwalking or doing the cha-cha while you’re in your DR. Shifting doesn’t override your physical body’s autopilot mode. Instead, your CR body stays in a deep state of rest, like sleeping or meditating.

Here’s why this is accurate:

Shifting is a relocation of consciousness, not physical movement. Your awareness moves to your DR, while your CR body stays put. It’s like putting your computer on sleep mode—it’s still there, just inactive.

If your CR body did start moving, you’d be blending realities, which isn’t how shifting works. Shifting creates a clear boundary between where your consciousness is and where your body remains.

That said, your CR body can react slightly to your DR state—like twitching or deepened breathing—but it’s not going to hop up and do laundry. So yes, you’re right, but don’t act like this is revolutionary knowledge. Most people know this already. Your body stays put while your mind does the exploring. 🛏️✨

13: "Most people treat scripting and shifting as a choose-your-own-path fanfic instead of reality."

This one’s got layers, and I’m ready to dig in. First of all, who cares if someone treats scripting like fanfic? Scripting is a personal tool, and people can approach it however they like. But let’s get real: scripting is way more than fanfiction.

Here’s the nuance:

Scripting is a powerful manifestation tool. It sets clear intentions for what you want to experience in your DR. Treating it like a story doesn’t make it any less valid. If imagining yourself as the protagonist in a beautifully detailed “fanfic” helps you focus, then it’s working, period.

Not everyone scripts for the same reasons. Some people use it to map out specific DR details, while others treat it as a loose guide. Neither approach is wrong—it’s about what works for YOU.

Also, let’s not act like scripting takes away from the “reality” of shifting. Scripting isn’t fake—it’s preparation. The moment you shift, what you scripted becomes as real as your CR. So stop invalidating people’s methods just because you don’t like the format. 💁‍♀️✨

14: "Putting your DR on a pedestal makes it harder to get to."

Okay, now we’re talking sense. This take is 100% accurate, and it’s a trap that a lot of shifters fall into. When you treat your DR like it’s some magical, unattainable place, you create mental resistance that makes shifting harder.

Here’s why this is true:

Your subconscious mind follows your beliefs. If you see your DR as something distant or godlike, your subconscious will act accordingly. It’ll say, “Oh, we’re not worthy yet? Cool, let’s not shift.”

When you overhype your DR, you’re also adding unnecessary pressure. Shifting becomes less about the journey and more about the desperation to “make it happen.” That desperation creates doubt, which blocks your progress.

The trick? Normalize your DR. Think of it as a natural extension of your existence, not some impossible dream. It’s real, attainable, and waiting for you—you just have to stop psyching yourself out. DRs are exciting, but they’re not fairy tales. Treat them as real, and your subconscious will follow suit. ✨

15: "I'm really excited about going to my DR in the same way that I'm really excited about going to a theme park or to a museum. Something very exciting but also very real and attainable."

Another solid take—this is exactly the right mindset. Approaching your DR with excitement, but without putting it on a pedestal, is the sweet spot for successful shifting. It’s the energy of anticipation, not desperation, that aligns your mind with your destination.

Here’s why this works:

Excitement fuels intention. When you’re genuinely excited about shifting, your subconscious is more likely to cooperate because it associates your DR with positive emotions.

Seeing your DR as “real and attainable” grounds your belief system. If you treat it like a natural part of your reality, your mind will perceive it as such.

This take is also a great reminder that shifting is a journey, not a chore. Approach it with the same joy you’d have for any adventure, and the process becomes smoother. Your DR isn’t some untouchable fantasy—it’s a place you can visit with the right mindset. Theme park energy, but make it metaphysical. 🎢✨

16: "I'm not excited about going to my DR like some heavenly dream world. That's just unrealistic."

Thank you for saying this, because it’s time to drag the “heavenly DR” myth. DRs aren’t utopias, and expecting them to be perfect sets you up for disappointment. Shifting is about experiencing another reality, not escaping to some flawless paradise.

Here’s the tea:

Every DR has challenges. Just like CR, your DR will have ups and downs. That doesn’t make it any less real or amazing—it just makes it dynamic and authentic.

Thinking of your DR as a “heavenly dream world” adds unnecessary pressure. When you finally shift and realize your DR isn’t perfect, you risk feeling disillusioned or disappointed.

The truth? Your DR is real, but it’s not going to solve all your problems or fulfill all your fantasies. Treat it as an exciting new chapter, not a flawless escape. The more grounded your expectations, the more satisfying your experience will be. ✨

17: "Judging people for what they do in their DR based on CR standards is usually wrong."

Finally, a take that makes sense! This is the kind of nuance we need in the shifting community. DRs operate on their own rules, and trying to apply CR standards to them is like judging a fish for not climbing a tree.

Here’s why this is on point:

Different realities, different rules. What might be morally or socially acceptable in CR could be completely irrelevant in a DR. People shift to explore and experience, not to replicate the exact conditions of CR.

Judging others is counterproductive. Shifting is deeply personal. Someone’s DR journey might be about exploring sides of themselves that they suppress in CR, and that’s valid. As long as they’re not harming others, it’s not your business.

Let’s be clear, though: this doesn’t excuse harmful behavior in DRs. If someone’s intentionally scripting unethical or damaging scenarios, that’s a different conversation. But for the most part, let people live and shift without your CR morality checklist. 🌀✨

18: "Every single thing you script has far-reaching consequences that you cannot imagine until you get there. If you script that you can't sweat or can't grow body hair, you'll show up in your DR with some medical condition that causes those things."

Girl, when we thought there was progress... you do THIS?! Let’s break it down, because this take is serving a mix of paranoia and half-truths, and I’m disappointed.

Yes, scripting can shape your DR reality, but this idea that every single detail comes with “far-reaching consequences” is dramatic and misleading.

Scripting sets intentions. If you script that you don’t sweat, your DR might interpret that literally, but it doesn’t mean you’re suddenly cursed with a medical condition. Your DR adapts to your intentions, not in some twisted monkey’s paw way, but in alignment with your desires.

This take leans heavily into fear-mongering. It’s important to script mindfully, but implying that a poorly worded script will backfire catastrophically is unnecessary drama.

Let’s not scare people into thinking shifting is a minefield of unintended consequences. Scripting is flexible and intuitive. If you don’t like something in your DR, you can shift back and adjust. Chill, girl—it’s not that deep. 😒✨

19: "Things in reality don't just fucking happen for no reason."

This is facts, but let’s unpack it fully. Whether it’s CR or DR, reality operates on cause and effect. Your actions, intentions, and beliefs shape your experience.

Here’s the tea:

In shifting, your subconscious mind plays a huge role. Nothing “just happens.” If you experience something unexpected in your DR, it’s often tied to unintentional thoughts, emotions, or residual CR beliefs.

This take is a good reminder to take responsibility for your scripting and intentions. You are the architect of your DR. If something goes awry, it’s not because the universe is out to get you—it’s because of how you set the framework.

That said, let’s not act like every single thing needs to be micromanaged. Part of the fun of shifting is letting your DR surprise you. Control the big stuff, but leave room for spontaneity. Your DR doesn’t need to feel like a sterile checklist. ✨

20: "Scripting yourself a dysfunctional abusive family on purpose is fucked up."

YES, babe, say it louder for the people in the back! This is a take I fully agree with. If you’re intentionally scripting harmful or abusive dynamics into your DR, you need to seriously reflect on why.

Here’s why this is so problematic:

Your DR is a space for growth, healing, and exploration. Why would you willingly bring toxicity into it? If you want to explore complex relationships, that’s fine, but scripting outright abuse is deeply concerning.

This kind of scripting raises ethical red flags. Even if DR characters are technically constructs, the energy and intent behind scripting abuse can reflect unresolved issues or harmful tendencies.

Shifting is a powerful tool—don’t misuse it by scripting negativity for the sake of drama. If you’re scripting toxic situations, ask yourself what you’re really seeking. Your DR should uplift you, not drag you into unnecessary harm. Do better. 🖤✨

Let’s wrap this up with love and clarity, babes. 💖✨"

So, after unpacking @sectumsempress’s (Christine’s) points, here’s the bottom line: Shifting is YOUR journey. Some of her takes were valid, others were shaky, and a few? Well, they needed a reality check. But hey, that’s the beauty of conversations like these—it gives us a chance to reflect, grow, and strengthen our understanding of shifting.

Remember:

Shifting is deeply personal. What works for one person might not work for you, and that’s okay.

Misinformation doesn’t define you. Always question, explore, and trust your intuition.

You are capable, worthy, and enough. Whether you’re scripting, visualizing, or just starting out, your DR is closer than you think.

At the end of the day, the shifting community thrives when we support, uplift, and educate each other. So let’s keep pushing forward with confidence, kindness, and a whole lot of sass. Your reality is yours to create—don’t let anyone dim that light. 💅✨