#turns out losing your mother at a young age only to find out she is both still alive and also immortal with another child

[mmmatchasims]

Primrose: You and I both know that has never been enough.

[majinbangus]

was tempted to write more of this idea of simon x single mom!reader. ty to @weemansoap for the meet cute idea. mention of past abuse/domestic violence in one paragraph, nothing graphic.

-> more here

There's a young lad that can't be more than five or six years of age crouched behind the overgrown bush near the entryway that leads to his flat complex. A strange sight to come home to after months away on deployment. One he's not sure what to make of yet, but Simon approaches, coming up on the kid's blindspot. He doesn't see any parents around. Best find out what this kid is up to.

"Oi, what're you doin' out 'ere, lad?"

The kid startles comedically, nearly falling on his rump, but he manages to catch himself before looking up at Simon, a toothy, mischievous grin on his face. "I'm gonna scare Mama!"

Simon raises an eyebrow. "Your mum doesn't know you're here?"

"No." The boy giggles. "I ran ahead while she was putting on her shoes."

"You shouldn't do that," Simon says, though not quite admonishing him. "You probably scared your mum enough pulling that stunt."

The lad frowns. "I only ran away. What's so scary about that?"

A lot of things. Simon remembers his own mother frantically calling out his name once upon a time. The fear in her eyes. The trembling grip when she finally found him again. The sobbing. The apologies. The promises to be a better mother. The pain she experienced when his father blamed her for losing track of a son he didn't care about. Pain that was Simon's fault. Pain that his father later inflicted on him.

Lots of things are scary when a child runs away. But this lad doesn't need to know the extent.

"Your mum loves you, yeah?" He waits until the kid nods, continuing, "Then it'll always scare her when you runaway. Not knowing where you are. Thinking she lost you. Would it scare you if you lost her?"

"Oh..." The kid looks at the ground, penitent. "I didn't think of it that way."

Simon grunts, studying the lad, debating with himself before deciding fuck it. He clicks his tongue twice and the lad looks up. "Which floor you live on, mate? I'll bring you back to your mum."

"3C."

Simon hums thoughtfully. That one was previously vacant last time he was here. "Right next to me."

The lad perks up. "Really?"

He nods, gesturing towards the building, ready to guide the kid back home, but a voice suddenly rings out like a shock of ice water running down his back.

"Simon, you stay right there, young man!"

For a brief- very brief- second, Simon tenses up. He hasn't heard that angry motherly tone stemmed from fear directed at him since he was a boy. Part of him feels reprimanded, as if he needs to bow his head and meekly apologize for upsetting his mother, fleeting memories of his mum scolding him flashing through his brain. But the feeling quickly dissipates when he sees you, frazzled and anxious, running towards him like an unstoppable force that reminds him of the ocean wind.

It's a stunning sight, Simon notes absently; however, he doesn't take any longer to admire the view you make running towards him. Or, well, the boy. Rather than looking at Simon, you're looking at the lad he's been talking to, a wild, worried look in your eyes the closer you get, glancing at Simon quickly, warily, then back at the boy, the look of a mother bear ready to defend her cub gracing your features, and that's when it clicks.

Ah. Simon.

Your boy's name is Simon.

Funny, that. It almost makes him snort.

The lad in question doesn't seem to register your near feral state, but Simon steps away from your wayward son as to not aggravate you any further.

"Mama, I made a friend!" Your son announces proudly once you rush up to them. "He lives next to us! In, um..."

"3A," Simon interjects when the kid falters. You glance at him in acknowledgment before turning back to your child.

"Oh? How sweet." You smile tightly at the lad, giving him a subtle once over for anything out of place, and reach out to gently tug him further away from Simon, crouching to pick him up. "It's good to make friends with the neighbors, honey, but you can't go running off like that. I was worried when you took off without warning."

The boy in your arms looks properly contrite, bowing his head and wrapping his arms around your neck, voice muffled as he apologizes, "I know. I'm sorry, Mama. I won't runaway ever again. Promise. The nice man told me you would be upset."

"Did he?" You look at Simon, gaze still guarded but there's a hint of something grateful in your eyes. "Well, he was right. I was upset, but as long as you keep your promise, you're forgiven."

His little name twin perks up, giggling and hugging you tighter. "I will! I love you, Mama."

"I love you, too, hon." You give your son a tender look, pressing a kiss to his temple, but it drops once you look at Simon, studying him with a cautious look. You hesitate for a second longer before adjusting your hold on your boy then hold a hand out, giving him your name and your gratitude. "3A? Are you new? I haven't seen you around... Regardless, thank you for keeping an eye on this one. I hope he didn't cause you any trouble."

"I travel for work." He grips your hand and gives it a squeeze, "And he didn't. Your boy's a good lad. I'm Simon."

Your eyebrows lift, mouth dropping slightly agape and hand lingering in his perhaps a tad too long before you recover, letting go, and smile sweetly at your boy who stares up at him with wide, awed eyes. "My name is Simon, too!"

You don't make a sound, but Simon can see you shake with silent laughter, your eyes sparkling for the child in your arms. He catches your eye, and you tilt your head with a hopeful, doe-eyed look for him to indulge your boy a little longer.

Ah, what the hell.

"Really?" Simon raises a disbelieving brow. "Since when?"

"Since I was born!" The boy laughs and you shoot Simon a genuine smile. "You're funny, Simon."

Oh, Johnny could tell your boy just how funny he could really be. He can already hear the groan his sergeant would give.

Don't put the poor lad through that, LT.

He's not hearing any complaints, Johnny. The lad seems to appreciates his humor. And you do too from the looks of it.

"It's a fine name, innit?"

"Uh-huh! Mama named me!"

He switches to look at you. "That right?"

Your smile turns a hint shy under his attention, but you nod with a noncommittal hum, adding nothing more to the conversation. Instead, you start your own. An abrupt, obvious dismissal. "Well, sorry to hold you up, Simon, but we should get going. This Simon needs to go school supply shopping."

Your son pouts, but otherwise doesn't complain. Good lad.

"Say goodbye to," your eyes wash over him, darting up and down, properly taking him in, "Big Simon, Simon."

A rush of amusement passes through him. That's a new one. Not the worst thing he's ever heard, but certainly accurate. He might even like it.

Big Simon tilts his head, raising a brow, and immediately you fluster at the nickname you've given him, eyes widening and head ducking down so you don't have to look him in the eyes, but it's too late to take it back. Little Simon is already waving goodbye at him.

"Bye, Simon, it was nice to meet you!"

There's a flash, and for a moment, Simon sees another young lad waving at him in another mother's arms, another Riley's voice echoing in his ear, asking him when he's gonna settle down, but then they're gone in a blink and he's looking at you and Little Simon again.

It almost makes him pause, but Simon forces them out of his mind and focuses on you and the boy in your arms.

"Nice to meet you too, kid." He gestures to you next. "Be good for your mum. She's a lovely lady, and lovely ladies deserve the best, yeah?"

Your son agrees with an enthusiastic nod, but while he remains oblivious to your flustered state, Simon feels an unfamiliar sort of satisfaction when you stutter out your own goodbyes, leaving him to ponder on things he hasn't thought of in years.

Settle down, huh? That's not for him, but looking at you and your lad...

Simon can almost see the appeal in a domestic life.

-

wrote this kinda sleepy, idk how I feel about it hope its alright tho

[a-hazbin-reader]

THIS WAS MY BAD I FUCKED UP ANON I'M SORRY

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Brief mention of Y/N not having control over her own life

Description: 👆⬆️

It took a lot for Alastor to be nervous about something, like A LOT

He wasn't nervous to start his radio show, he wasn't scared to sing in front of a crowd or dance with a stranger

But meeting your father has his mind in shambles, he's never been so nervous in his entire life

Every negative quality he can think of is coming to the forefront of his mind and making a home there

Not even asking you out made him feel this anxious

Okay so that was a fucking lie

He's heard all about your father from you, knows how close the two of you are-now he knows how you felt meeting his mother

Your father made you the woman you are today, and all of your best qualities were apparently cultivated by your father, according to you anyways

But he plays it cool when you ask him to meet your father, giving you a charming smile and confident response

"It's about time you asked me that, my dear~"

Hugs you from behind and buries his face in your neck so that you don't see the panic in his eyes

Pretends like he's not worried about it whenever you bring it up but as his S/O you pick up on his mannerisms

He's often distracted, getting lost in his own thoughts, doesn't hear what you're saying, messing up food he normally makes with ease

It's different for him, to him meeting your father makes the possibility of losing you feel more real

If your father doesn't approve of him then not only would you be disappointed but he could keep you from seeing Alastor

And nobody would question it, nobody would ask what YOU want, a girl's father knows what best for her

Then you two would have to elope which wouldn't be the worst thing but you deserve more-

"Alastor..? Are you sure you want to do this?"

He immediately relaxes at the sound of your voice, turning to give you a reassuring smile and kissing your forehead

"Of course, my dear~! What sort of a man would I be if I was too scared to face your father?"

Oh, he's scared of making a bad impression

He leans into your touch as you place soft hands over his cheeks, smiling at him in a way that makes him feel childish for being nervous

"Oh darling, you have nothing to worry about...I'll protect you~"

"Very funny..."

"I'm serious! He will love you, you're very hard not to love~"

Your gentle embrace on his arm keeps him grounded throughout the entire walk to see your father

Maybe he nuzzles your head to give you affection, or maybe he does it because your scent relaxes him

Alastor is hilariously stiff when you two enter the restaurant, tensing up as you approach your father

He's handsome for a man his age but the way he carries himself with kindness and pride reminds Alastor of you

The old man's eyes light up and happiness envelopes his features as he takes notice of you, standing to meet you

The love between you and your father is painfully obvious, this here is a man who would die to protect his daughter

Something he and Alastor have in common

Then suddenly, a switch flips in him once you go to hug your father, no longer is he your nervous boyfriend

"Papa, this is the man I've been telling you about, this is Al-"

"Alastor! Pleasure to meet you, sir! Quite a pleasure! Might I just say you've raised an exceptional young woman!"

This is Alastor, the charming radio host who is utterly mesmerizing and able to talk his way out of any situation

The Alastor that originally caught your attention and kept it long enough for you to fall for him

He spends the entire lunch charming your father, laying out all his best qualities in the hopes that he's making a good impression

And he definitely is, or at least he seems to be

"Oh Y/N, you didn't tell me that he would be such a gentleman! Wherever did you find him?"

Oh Papa you don't want to know

"Oh you know...we just bumped into each other-"

"She immediately had my heart in her pocket from the first moment we met! I was wrapped around her little finger and didn't even know it until it was too late!"

Now you're blushing, Alastor's words, along with him pulling you into a loving hug, making you feel flustered

He may have been busy trying to impress your father, but he didn't forget who he was doing it for, making sure to pay attention to you

He couldn't ignore you even if he tried, kissing your cheek whenever you boasted about him or squeezing your hand when your father embarrassed you

Which he did, your father couldn't help but brag about his darling daughter and every good deed she ever did

All of Alastor's earliest worries are gone, now understanding that your father isn't the type of man to rule over his daughter

Rather the kind to build her up and encourage her to be her own person, loving her for her strengths instead of smothering them

Which makes Alastor respect the man even more than he already did

At one point you leave the table to use the restroom, leaving the two men alone with each other

The mood shifts a little bit, your father suddenly serious and doubtful as he looks Alastor over

"Just what are your intentions with my daughter? She's not the kind of woman who you can just toy with until the next one comes along. My Y/N is too good for a playboy."

Oh, so now it's a serious talk, that's fine, Alastor came here for a serious reason anyways

"I'm no boy, and I don't plan on playing with your daughter's heart, I meant what I said earlier. In fact, I wanted to meet you so that I could ask your permission to not only continue seeing her but to marry her."

Apparently, he said the right thing because your father's eyes widened in surprise for a moment before the warmth flooded back into them

The old man relaxed into his seat and simply nodded at Alastor as you came back, the two men coming to an understanding

The atmosphere at the table becomes much more casual after that, your father and Alastor talking and joking like old friends

It warms your heart to see your boys getting along so well, leaning on Alastor happily

He smiles and rubs noses with you for a moment before going back to the conversation, something that leaves you flustered

And apparently, it makes your father blush too, finding the two of you to be a cute couple

The love you both have for each other radiates more than any sort of PDA would

Your father thinks that Alastor wouldn't be the worst son in law to have, he's charming, hardworking, obviously loves you

Why he's nearly perfect but there's something about him that makes your father think he's dangerous

And maybe he is but as long as Alastor keeps his daughter safe and happy then what does he care?

It's your life after all

Later, when you all get up to leave, your father ignores Alastor's offer of a handshake in favor of hugging him

"If you marry her, then you best not ever leave her, not even in death."

"Not only will I never leave her, I'll do everything in my power to make her happy~"

"Good man, welcome to the family.."

You give your father a loving hug, and he whispers his approval to you, making you tear up and kiss his cheek

Alastor is a little concerned when he sees your glassy eyes but you kiss him happily before he can even ask what's wrong

Presses his forehead to yours once you two finally stop kissing, both of you panting softly

Your smile is so breathtaking, he almost doesn't even hear what you're saying because he's so mesmerized

"I told you that he would love you~"

GAHHHH SORRY THIS TOOK ALL DAY I HOPE YOU LIKE IT

I HAD IT THEN DELETED IT AND HAD TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN

[readychilledwine]

Hello. I hope everything this going well with you. I have to say I fell in love with your book boyfriend post and... It got me thinking on an idea I hope you can write for me.

So reader is the daughter of either feysand, necessian Or gywnriel ( sorry if I got the spelling wrong) and she is reading books which are way more smuttier than what the ladies read. And the dad is just not having it and momma is having that moment where she believes she raised her child the right way and is encoraging her.

Thank you and i hope you have a great weekend ❤.

Like Mother, Like Daughter

Summary - After finding his daughter in the "I don't want Cassian to know I'm Reading Smut" Pose, girl dad Cass loses his cool

Warnings - girl dad cass, mentions of knife play and kink, smut

A/N - Happy @cassianappreciationweek! I should have posted this for family day, but day 7 it will be 💕

🗡Cassian Masterlist🗡Master Masterlist🗡

"No," Cassian muttered to himself as he saw his daughter in an all too familiar pose. "No. No. No. No. No!" Each no grew louder as he observed her. The soft flush on her cheeks, the subtle way she bit her lip, the way her eyes were wide with excitement.

That pose was one Nesta mastered. One of the many he had named, and seeing his babygirl, his little y/n sitting in it had his heart feeling as though a Naga had ripped it from his chest. He stormed his way to her, ripping the book from her lap and gasping at the filth before him. "Y/n! What is this?!"

You were in shock, tea stilled near your mouth as you blinked at your now empty lap, "Um, my book?"

"This isn't literature! This is! This is! Oh, Cauldron! No!" Cassian could look away from the words, could stop reading the sentence about the mysterious warrior using his dagger for obscene acts on the young maiden. He could stop the way his gut twisted with each word. "This is worse than what your mother reads!"

You stared at him, wings twitching, "Dad, I'm 27. If I want to read smut, I ca-"

"You can not," he cried. "Not my daughter. Nope." His head was spinning as Nesta came into the room, looking between you two. He turned on her so quickly, striding to her with two steps and holding the book to her pointed nose. "What is this!? Who gave my daughter this?"

Nesta couldn't hide her smirk, those silver eyes lighting up as she took the book, "Oh, this is delicious. Who is this by, my sweet dove?"

"Some new author. They just go by Yarrow."

Nesta nodded at your answer, sitting next to you on the couch, "And you understand this is dangerous in real life?" She was satisfied with your nod before pulling you into her so both of you could read the scene being painted before you.

Cassian felt the air leaving his lungs. His throat grew tight as he tried not to scream. "Nesta, we need to talk," he grit out. "Now, please."

His mate held her finger to him, grabbing your pressed flower book mark from Aunt Elain before setting the book on the coffee table. "Yes?"

"She can not be reading this shit, Ness. She needs to read... Anything but that." He motioned towards the book he desperately wanted to throw into the fire. "This is completely inappropriate for her at her age."

Nesta only hummed, "She is reading books similar to what I did at her age. I do not understand what you are so upset about." You glanced between both of them, suddenly feeling so small, so insecure. "I would rather she is reading these things than going to pleasure halls and-"

"Do not finish that sentence," Cassian's tone grew sharp. "Do not even joke about my daughter doing something like that. Do not put it out into the world."

"It's a book," you whispered. "It is just a book. I like how the author writes. I love their use of language and structuring. I enjoy the way they build worlds. Yes, there is smut, but the world building in this series is fantastic. Everything is vivid, well layout, clear, consistent. I really enjoy the story. The smut is just a bonus."

"It's very well written," Nesta hummed. "Graphic without teetering the line of uncomfortable."

Cassian glanced between the two of you again, "I do not like it." He began to pace, "I am not comfortable with her reading garbage."

You shrunk slightly, "It's a fantasy series about found family, finding inner strength, and healing, Dad."

"It's a smut novel!"

"It's her choice," Nesta growled back. The room grew cold at that. Cassian sitting in a mix of fear and respect as he stared at his wife. "She is a grown female. If she wants to read smut, that is her choice. This is a much healthier option to so many other things she could be doing to explore her sexuality, Cassian. We should be proud this is the method she has picked and not whoring herself out."

Cassian seemed to pale at that. The image of you doing what he had done as a young male, racking a body count with different fae every week, scarring his mind. He didn't want that. He wanted better for you.

He picked up the novel, "This isn't the only type of smut you read, correct?"

"No," you answered softly. "I prefer dark fantasy, but I do soft things too. I just finished one you might actually like." You ran to your book shelf, grabbing the novella. "It's about a warrior and a lady. He partakes in a knights contest and she offers him her favor. Very strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn."

You handed the book to your dad, smiling as he looked at the romance novel hidden behind a black leather cover.

"I also have this one about a couple who met over summer, fell in love, she went away for something, family stopped their communication, she comes back, they're still in love," you ran back to grab the other book. "There's a super passionate rain storm kiss. It'd be neat to have that some day."

Cassian rolled his eyes as the books slowly piled up. The novels varied from great adventures with a kiss of smut to downright no plot. He let his eyes go to Nesta, watching as she stared at you with a look of pride, love, and admiration. "Hey," he whispered to his wife. "That's your hard work, Ness."

Nesta sighed dreamily, watching as you grabbed a 10th book and physically crawled into Cassian's lap, telling him about the fae King of Night who forced criminals into bargains before falling in love with a siren.

Cassian tugged the bond, sending his white flag to Nesta, a silent "You win," as you settled into his lap, showing him how the author of the first novel had built her world, the maps included, and the brief history that went into the fantasy smut novel.

He found himself in the same spot hours later, you asleep on his chest while he read a soft romance novel and Nesta read something that had her eyes going wide.

He decided then that perhaps this wasn't so bad. There could be worse things than having a daughter so much like her mother.

General Taglist:

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[weirdmorefics]

Can we get a Bridgerton sister reader who is over looked most of the time only noticed when they see the reader has a close relationship with queen weather they see notice her absents or lady Whistledown writes about it your choice

The Forgotten Twin

Bridgerton sister reader

A/n- I hope you like it I am still unsure if I do LOL

Angst

Pronouns- She/her

Word Count- 989

Summary- The reader is Daphne's twin often overshadowed and forgotten until a shocking announcement by Lady Whistledown.

Y/n was used to being overshadowed by her twin, it's been like this since they were born. Daphne seemed to always be one step in front of Y/n. She crawled first, walked first, and talked first, Y/n was used to it now at age twenty-one. However, she had been dreading this age since she had learned about coming out into society. She knew from the instant she heard about it that Daphne would outshine her. Though Y/n had given up caring that Daphne did everything before her and that her mother favored her because Y/n excelled in something Daphne never did, and that was her intelligence. She was quick-witted and had a sharp tongue due to being compared to Daphne her whole life. Her mother, of course, did not see this as a good quality to have as it is not a preferred trait by suitors. This is the main reason she has been dreading this event she knew it would just be another thing about her that disappoints her mother.

Even though Y/n's Mother and her brothers did not find her qualities preferable her sister Eloise loved them. Eloise was Y/n's twin personality wise but in appearance and age she was destined to be Daphne's twin in turn she was always destined to be compared to her. Y/n was losing her confidant, Eloise to Lady Whistledown and she was feeling more alone than ever.

Y/n spent her days getting fitted for coming-out gowns, practicing piano, and reading in her spare time. All of these activities were solitary minus the seamstress and maids.

When the day finally came for the ball it was really not a shock to anyone that Daphne was declared the diamond of the season. Y/n tried to blend into the wall, balls and dancing never being her scene and that would not start now. That was until the next ball when Lady Whistledown made a report about this year's diamond severely lacking any suitors and being outshined by the Fetherington's cousin.

One of the Queen's servants came to retrieve Y/n for a meeting with her Highness during the second ball of the season. At first, she couldn't breathe she was encapsulated by her worry that she must have done something truly horrid to offend the Queen what other reason would she have with her.

Y/n followed the servants in silence, worried they could hear her heart beating loudly. She stood before the Queen and summoned her best curtsey she could manage.

The Queen lowered her Galilean binoculars and looked into Y/n's eyes, "You are an interesting young lady, Y/n."

Y/n considers this to be a dream because there is no way this could be a reality it seems like a fantasy book she would have read.

"Now you may lack the social skills of your dear sister, but there is something about you." A small mischievous smile appears on the Queen's face.

After this encounter, Y/n would spend many days sneaking into the Queen's quarters without her family's knowledge. She didn't like not telling her family about the Queen's plan and their frequent meetings but the Queen saw something no one else saw in Y/N, potential.

Dearest Reader,

It would seem that our diamond of the season had a diamond in the rough in their very own family waiting for their moment to shine. The great jewelers say it takes just the right amount of pressure to make a rock a diamond and we all know our dear Y/n Bridgerton has been under pressure her whole to live up to Daphne. The Queen has certainly taken notice of Y/n's diamond potential and has now been having secret weekly meetings with the eldest Bridgerton daughter.

Y/n was completely unaware of the new announcement by Lady Whistledown. She just so happened to be getting ready for one of these aforementioned meetings with the Queen. As Y/n was on her way out the door she heard several pairs of heavy footsteps down the large staircase in their home.

"Y/n Bridgerton!" Shouted her mother.

Y/n quickly whipped around to face her mother with fear as she knew those fiery eyes well.

"How could you do this to your sister," she shouts holding up today's crumpled Lady Whistledown.

Daphne looked disappointed standing next to their Mama, "Daph... I am sorry. I didn't mean for you to find out this way." Y/n frowns figuring out instantly Daphne knew about her betrayal from her eyes.

"What did you think would happen? That no one would ever notice you sneaking in and out of the Queen's quarter with her hundreds of servants," Daphne judged Y/n.

Eloise interrupted the argument, "How odd you don't even seem to notice Y/n's presence until she does something you disapprove of," Eloise glared which made Y/n smile she wasn't used to being stood up for.

Eloise puts a finger to her chin, "I also find it odd that Y/n is getting all the blame when Daphne wouldn't be suitorless if it wasn't for Anthony's constant meddling in her affairs."

Benedict and Colin held back their chuckles at Eloise's bluntness and Y/n smiled widely. It felt like they were seeing her even though the cause was bad her siblings were still being there for her.

Y/n ran up and hugged Eloise and she responded with a triumphant smile.

Daphne sighed, "I am sorry Y/n... the season has been rough on us all. Mother and I shouldn't have come down on you so hard. We should be there for each other, not always competing."

Y/n had to blink away tears, these are words she has always wanted to hear from Daphne. All she could respond was thank you and hope Daphne understood how much Y/n meant it.

[honestlyreadingruinedmylife]

That’s amazing. Of course everyone needs to start somewhere. Of course I understand not everyone likes writing smut.

Young Charles Xavier x reader. She’s also has a mutation. She’s kicked out by her parents when they find out that her boyfriend is in a wheelchair. She turns up in the pouring rain with her puppy under her jacket to keep them dry and a black eye because her dad hit her (you don’t have to write that just imply it)

Hope that’s not to detailed but wanted to give you as much detail as I could to help you write it.

Can you please tag me in any future X-Men fanfiction you write.

Xx

A.N: Okay, I finally got around to finishing this. I'm actually quite proud of it given it's my first time EVER writing fanfiction and especially with it being a request. I hope you enjoy it even though it is a bit cliche at times. Also, there is slight ableism given the prompt, I did some research to make sure I wasn't using any slurs but if I am wrong PLEASE let me know. I will change it.

Word Count: 1251

Pairing: Young Charles Xavier x Female!Reader

Warnings: Ableism (Only a small sentence), gets kind angsty

You didn’t really know how they had found out. You were so careful. Building a wall of lies so thick and so far that you could no longer see the ends. 

You suppose that somewhere along the lines you’d missed a spot, one vital brick that tumbled down the entirety of your life. 

Your parents had only just started getting around to the idea of having a ‘freak’ of a daughter. Constantly telling you how lucky you were to at least look ‘normal’ and not like those ‘other ones’. 

You were one of the good ones. 

They had laid the rules out simply. They didn’t care about your abilities as long as they stayed outside the house and as long as you married a ‘regular human being’. It seemed simple enough and studying for a masters (which they paid for) you figured one more year of hiding wouldn’t be so difficult.

What you never considered was falling madly in love with another mutant. You’d been convinced for so long that you were completely alone in the walls you’d built, that when you met a man who could literally tear them apart you had no choice but to let yourself go.

The argument had started at dinner. It’d been a long day of research which had resulted in nothing but a dead end. Exhausted from sitting reading at a desk all day, you just wanted to get through the traditional family dinner and get straight into bed.

You were sitting in your usual chair, facing your mother while your father sat at the head of the table. It’d been eerily silent from the moment you’d sat down but didn’t mind given your exhaustion.

Suddenly, your father put down his utensils, “I’ve set up a dinner, next week with the neighbors boy,”

Thinking you hadn’t heard correctly, you turn to face him, “pardon?”

“It’s about time that you start thinking of settling down,” your father continues, “most normal girls your age are on their way to having their first child,”

You hear the implication in his voice even if he hadn’t outright said it. Irritated, you push your plate away.

“I am a normal girl, dad,” 

You hear your mother sigh, but you can’t seem to look away from your fathers face that twitches in irritation.

“You know what I meant,” he says your name as if it's a burden. He says it as if you were a curse on his normalcy.

You roll your eyes, “yes I know exactly what you meant, father, and I’m not going to be dressed up like some doll to be paraded for the neighbors boy,”

Another twitch, you know you are pushing him too far, but you can’t seem to care anymore.

“He is of good breeding and a wealthy background,” he picks up his utensils again, “the dinner will be on Monday,”

“Breeding?! I’m not cattle, father,” 

Your fathers face contorts into a scowl and you know he’s losing patience with you, “He will assure you are the last of your kind in my bloodline,”

You can feel your whole body shaking, “I will not go to that dinner, father,”

You hear your mother whisper your name, you suddenly realize that the shaking wasn’t just within your body but the whole house. With your emotions rampant you couldn’t control your powers as naturally as you normally could.

Breathing in and breathing out, you calm yourself enough to stop the shaking. Your father, however, is maroon with malice. You have pushed him too far.

“I will not let my grandchildren be the offspring of a freak and a paralytic!”

You feel your heart stop. Your mind is racing, unstoppable thoughts wreak havoc in your head. He knew. He knew and now your life is over.

“Father-”

“You thought I wouldn’t find out?” Your father continues to yell, “you thought I’d let you disobey me without consequence?”

You could feel your breathing increase as you enter a panic. Everything is muffled, your father continues yelling but you can’t hear a thing he is saying. You have to get away. You have to get to Charles. 

Without realizing, you stand, turning to leave the table, trying to find an escape. With one step, your father is in front of you, rough hands clamping down on your shoulders, forcing you still.

“Let me go,” you whisper, looking down away from your father. 

“I forbid you from seeing that man again!” 

“Let me go,” you feel the ground tremble beneath you.

“He’s one of you isn’t he?” Your fathers grip tightens on your shoulders, “he’s a freak!”

“Let me go!” You shout back in his face. You don’t initially feel the strike, but you can feel the heat begin to blossom around your eye. And you feel the ground erupt into endless shudders as you watch your father lose his balance and fall to the floor.

With the last of your strength, you run towards your room grabbing your research and your puppy that likes to sleep under your bed. As you race to the front door, you glance at your mother fussing over your father, who is still laid on the floor.

Stopping you turn to face your parents, “I am not a freak. Just because I am different doesn’t mean I’m lesser than,”

You turn to open the front door and with foot out your childhood home, you turn one last time, “I’ll never treat my children the way you’ve treated me, mutant or not,”

With those final words, you run into the rain, hailing the first taxi you see.

It wasn’t until you were at Charles’ front door, drenched and with your puppy under your coat, that you realized how bleak your situation truly was. 

No home, no parents, no education. 

With nothing left to lose, you knock as loudly as you can, hoping anyone would hear you over the pounding rain.

Almost immediately, the door swings open. 

Hank at first looks at you with confusion and then concern. He drags you inside and in the same breath yells for Charles.

The second you see Charles look of concern as he approaches you, you feel the tears start to form in your eyes. Finally able to let go, you feel yourself crumble with the weight of the night.

In no time, Charles holds you in his arms, stroking your soaked hair, whispering into your ear, “it’s okay darling you’re safe now, you’re safe here,”

Once you’ve calmed down, you pull away from him holding your own weight again. His hands don’t leave your face, careful with your already bruising eye.

He whispers your name. He whispers it like prayer, like there’s no one else in the world except you and him. He strokes your cheek with his thumb, “How about we run you a warm bath?”

With no strength left to speak and knowing you didn’t need to, you nod into his hands, closing your eyes and soaking in the comforting warmth he exudes. From within your jacket, you feel your puppy shuffle, stuck in between your torso and Charles’ legs. Pulling away slightly, your puppy leaps away from you and begins sniffing around Charles’ wheelchair.

“I see you’ve brought a friend, darling,” he chuckles, as he watches your puppy continuing to adventure.

You hiccup trying to find the words, “I couldn’t leave him in that house,”

Charles looks back at you, his blue eyes wide with adoration, “he has a home here, he’ll always a home here,”

[fantasyescapes17]

Spinsters do not Need Chaperones (Part 2, Seungcheol Route)

Chaperones are for beautiful young girls. A plain older woman like you, with neither fortune nor youth to recommend her, is hardly in danger of losing her virtue. You've long resigned yourself to always being the supporting role in someone else’s romance. 

But could it be that love and marriage have not disappeared entirely beyond your reach? This spinster may capture the heart of an eligible bachelor yet, if only she makes the right choices…

Genre: Seungcheol x female! reader, regency!AU (Sort of Bridgerton-esque but we keep it PG)

Word Count: 4.5k+

Series Masterlist here

You discovered, much to your dismay, that none of your wants or desires could withstand Lady Beaumont’s wild  force of personality and will.

It is unnecessary to repeat the exact conversations that took place in the Beaumont manor that afternoon. It is only relevant to note that by the next morning, your belongings had been packed and you found yourself in a carriage with Lady Beaumont and Julia, headed directly for Portsmouth. 

“We must see if we cannot find you a husband in Portsmouth as well,” your aunt commented as the carriage rattled farther and farther away from London. “Surely the place has some naval officers milling about. Once Julia’s engagement is secured, there may be someone the Chois can introduce you to- perhaps some widower that will have you.”

You bit your lip to prevent yourself from responding rudely. It was never worth the effort of an argument with your aunt. You simply nodded. 

“You're not sulking because I would not permit you to stay in London, are you?” Lady Beaumont snapped irritably. 

You sighed and shook your head. “I am not sulking, aunt.”

“You would do well to put the Kims behind you. It was kind of them to allow you to debut and attend the social season with their daughter, but you are a Beaumont, not a Kim. You don't have a dowry worth mentioning, and the advantages of age and beauty are long past you. You need to be practical and think about who will support you for the rest of your life.”

“Believe me, aunt, I think of little else.”

Your aunt turned away with a huff. Julia had been quiet for most of the ride and seemed to be deep in thoughts of her own. You gave your young cousin a reassuring smile and she smiled back at you, but said nothing. 

The journey was long enough that dusk had begun to fall by the time the carriage arrived at the streets of Portsmouth. The Choi estate loomed ahead in the distance, and you peeked curiously out of the carriage window at the large manor. It wasn’t quite as magnificent as the Beaumont estate, but it was certainly a fitting home for a noble family. The sea was very close by. Surely the view of the vast blue waters from the upper stories of the manor would be marvelous. 

“It’s not as grand as London but this town really is quite beautiful,” you said to Julia as you both descended the carriage. “Perhaps we shall have a nice time in Portsmouth.”

Julia bit her lip. “I hope so, cousin.”

The servants arrived to carry your luggage inside and a few moments later you were greeted by the arrival of Mr. Choi Seungcheol and his mother, Mrs. Choi. 

“How delightful to see you again, Lady Beaumont, girls,” Mrs. Choi greeted you all warmly. You were surprised when the older woman embraced you and Julia. “I do hope you had a safe journey. Please come in, out of the cold! Summer is past and the evenings are quite chilly these days.”

“Yes-yes, our journey was quite pleasant, thank you,” Lady Beaumont replied quickly as she wrapped her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “Portsmouth seems very lovely.”

“We hope that you will like it.”

Seungcheol stood a few steps behind his mother. He nodded at you politely when you made eye contact with him, but there was not much of a smile on his face. You returned a polite nod. For Julia’s sake, you sincerely hoped that Mr. Choi was a good man. It was hard to tell what he was thinking behind those dark, charismatic eyes and that unsmiling face. 

“This is my housekeeper, Mrs. Williams- she has prepared rooms for you all upstairs and I hope you will find them comfortable,” Mrs. Choi explained. “Mrs. Williams, will you please show our guests to their rooms?”

You followed the housekeeper upstairs, admiring the large and tastefully decorated manor. Lady Beaumont had been provided with her own  room, while you and Julia had been given a slightly larger room to share. As soon as Mrs. Williams deposited your belongings and left, you went to the large french window in your room and threw it open. 

“We have a lovely view of the garden,” you observed. “But it appears this side of the manor does not face the sea.”

“A very good thing too,” Lady Beaumont muttered. She still had her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders and looked quite pale. “I cannot imagine how cold the sea winds would be at night. Close that window immediately, there is a terrible draught.”

You sighed and shut the window. “Shall we dress for dinner?”

You all dressed and went downstairs for dinner with the Choi family. Seungcheol sat at the head of the large table, and his dark eyes were watchful as Lady Beaumont and Mrs. Choi had an animated conversation about the china, and the difficulties of finding a good cook. You noticed that Seungcheol kept looking between you and Julia repeatedly. Once the first course was completed, he finally addressed your cousin directly. 

“How do you like to spend your free time, Miss Julia?” Seungcheol asked your young cousin. His tone was gentle enough but his dark eyes were unsmiling and Julia still looked somewhat afraid of him.

“I-I like music,” Julia whispered. 

“I must apologise, Miss Julia, I could not quite hear your response,” Seungcheol admitted. 

“I like music,” your cousin repeated a little more loudly. “T-the pianoforte.” 

Seungcheol nodded. “Of course. Yes, of course, I had the pleasure of listening to you play back in London. Allow me to compliment you once again on your skills. You played wonderfully.”

Julia blushed and stared at her plate. “Thank you.”

Their conversation was painfully awkward and almost difficult for you to watch. You did not want to interfere but Julia was being incredibly shy and you could see that even Seungcheol was not quite sure how to engage her in conversation. It was your duty as a chaperone to fill in this awkwardness. You cleared your throat and turned to him with a smile.

“Mr. Choi- perhaps you can recommend things for us to do, or places to see while we are in Portsmouth?” you asked lightly. 

Mr. Choi seemed almost relieved at your interruption and he turned in his seat to face you. “Of course, Miss Beaumont. I would be delighted to take you all down to the beach tomorrow morning. Portsmouth has many wonderful beaches. I am pleased to say it is one of the few advantages we have over London and the rest of the general countryside.”

You turned to Julia. “Julia! Doesn't the beach sound lovely?”

Julia nodded quickly. “Yes-yes, it does.”

You turned back to Seungcheol. “And the harbour; shall we be able to visit the harbour as well?”

Seungcheol blinked at you in surprise. “Well, certainly, if you like… although the harbour is full of ships and goods and commercial offices. I did not think it would be of particular interest to young ladies.”

Your eyes widened eagerly. “We should love to visit the harbour. Julia and I have just finished reading Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas. We have oceans and submarines and sea monsters on our mind, don’t we, Julia? We would love to see the naval ports and even your ships, Mr. Choi, if it is not too much trouble to you.”

Seungcheol nodded. “No trouble at all. I shall be delighted to show them to you.”

Mr. Vernon, who had been almost entirely silent until then (you had a strange suspicion that he was hiding a book underneath the table and was reading instead of paying attention to the conversation) looked up and smiled at you. “My brother spends too much time at the harbour already, Miss Beaumont. I am afraid the trouble lies more in bringing him back home.”

Seungcheol looked at his brother with a raised eyebrow- he did not smile but there was a surprising light-heartedness to his tone. “Then perhaps you had better join us, Vernon, so that you may undertake this incredibly difficult task of bringing me back home and not leave it to the ladies.”

“I wish I could, brother, but my exams are coming soon and I must devote myself to studying,” Vernon replied apologetically. 

“Is that why you have hidden a book under the table?” you asked him with a playful smile. 

Vernon’s ears turned red. “There is no book-”

Seungcheol sighed, although he did not look too angry. “Vernon, surely you can put your studies  away for some time while we have guests?”

“Sorry,” Vernon mumbled as he turned his attention back to his dinner. You smiled- and were surprised when Seungcheol caught your eye and gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile of his own. The smile brought a sudden light to Seungcheol’s already handsome face and you were surprised by how  charming he looked. But before you could react, Seungcheol had turned to Julia and asked her a question about whether she enjoyed French literature. 

The dinner ended pleasantly and Mrs. Choi entreated Julia to play a little music for them in the drawing room before the family retired to bed. You sat down on the comfortable sofa to listen to her performance and were surprised when Seungcheol sat beside you. 

“Miss Beaumont,” Seungcheol said to you in a quiet tone that could not be picked up by his mother or your aunt seated near the fireplace. “I must thank you for your thoughtfulness during the conversation at dinner. I hope that Miss Julia’s quietness is simply her nature, and not caused by any behaviour on my part…”

Your eyes widened. “Oh! No, you must forgive Julia’s quietness. She is only a little shy since she has not spent much time in society or among gentlemen. I assure you, she will open up soon and has a very lovely personality.”

Seungcheol nodded and cleared his throat. “I am… glad to hear it. I suffer from a similar handicap. I have lived in Portsmouth too long and failed to cultivate the art of polite conversation that I would have developed if I had spent more time among young ladies in London society.”

You smiled at him warmly. “There is nothing lacking in your conversation, Mr. Choi. You must only forgive Julia for being too young and inexperienced.”

“Youth is hardly a fault,” he replied thoughtfully. “And inexperience- well, that can surely be remedied with time and effort.”

“I agree.”

“Then I shall only thank you,” he replied gently, “and wish you a good night, Miss Beaumont.”

“Good night, Mr. Choi.”

—-------------------------------------------------------

Lady Beaumont declared that she had developed the chills and that nothing should distress her more than being exposed to the harsh autumn weather on a cold morning. She had therefore resolved to stay indoors all day. You were at liberty to depart for the Portsmouth harbour after breakfast, entirely unburdened by your aunt’s company. 

“I hope Lady Beaumont is not unwell,” Seungcheol enquired politely as he helped you and Julia board the carriage. “She does seem rather troubled by the cold.”

You chuckled. “You may rest assured that my aunt is in perfect health, Mr. Choi. Her chills have everything to do with her hatred of long walks, and nothing to do with the weather or her health.”

Seungcheol smiled. “I am relieved to hear it.”

The harbour was a short distance away. You were pleasantly surprised by how dazzlingly beautiful the blue sea was, even among the hustle and bustle of the busy harbour. Mr. Choi had been telling the truth. The harbour was a place of business, not exactly a tourist destination, but you still found yourself excited by the sight of the enormous ships anchored in the distance. 

“It smells of fish,” Julia mumbled to you. 

Seungcheol had overheard her. He merely nodded as he helped Julia down from the carriage. “Yes, I’m afraid it is rather early and the fishermen will be loading the boats with their catches to transport to nearby towns. Here; please use my handkerchief to cover your nose if it is too unpleasant.”

Julia blushed but accepted his handkerchief gratefully. 

“Are any of these ships yours, Mr. Choi?” you asked, interested. 

Mr. Choi nodded. “Some of the ships undergoing repairs are at the docks, and I will be glad to show them to you. I am afraid that my best ones are all away at sea, bringing goods back from the colonies.”

“What sort of goods?” you wondered. 

Mr. Choi smiled. His eyes lit up and you could tell that he enjoyed talking about his ships and business. There was a tinge of pride in his voice as he explained it to you. “Everything the merchants in the colonies hire us to transport. Cotton, tea, silks, even precious metals and antiques. Well, almost everything.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Almost everything? May I ask why you qualify it so”

Seungcheol coughed and lowered his gaze slightly. “I’m afraid the merchants sometimes wish to transport people instead of goods, and naturally I do not offer my ships for that sort of trade.”

Your eyes widened in understanding. The slave trade. Julia noticed the expression on your face and looked between you and Seungcheol, confused. 

“I do not understand. Why should you refuse to transport people?” Julia asked innocently.

“Because people are not goods, Julia,” you replied quietly. “Let us leave it at that for now.”

“On a more pleasant note,” Seungcheol said brightly, “the Royal Navy also uses this harbour for their ships and there are many senior naval officers here. I see Commodore James approaching us now, if you will allow me to introduce you to him.”

“Of course, we shall be delighted.”

A small group of naval officers in uniform approached you from the harbour. Julia’s grip on your arm tightened, and you saw that she had her eyes on the officers and was deeply blushing. You smiled to yourself- you remembered the days when you had fawned over gentlemen in uniform. 

“Mr. Choi!” the senior naval officer at the front of the group greeted. He was an older man with slightly greying hair and a bright smile. “How wonderful to see you here- and in the company of two beautiful young women, no less!”

Seungcheol nodded politely. “Commodore James, allow me to introduce you to Miss Beaumont and her cousin, Miss Julia Beaumont. They are my mother’s guests and are staying with us at Portsmouth for the fall.”

You were surprised when Commodore James reached out to kiss first your hand, and then Julia’s. He then introduced you to the rest of the men standing behind him. You tried to concentrate and remember their names and ranks, as Commodore James rattled them off, but you were sure you would forget them soon. 

“I hope you have an excellent stay in Portsmouth,” Commodore James said, addressing you and Julia. “May I ask if you ladies are fond of dancing?”

You nodded. “Indeed, we are.”

“Then we shall hope to see you at the assembly rooms one of these evenings, and you must each  reserve some of your dances for me and my officers,” Commodore James insisted. 

“We would be glad to,” you replied politely. 

“Excellent. I am afraid you must excuse us for today- we have an appointment to make. Good day, Miss Beaumont and Miss Julia.”

You and Julia curtsied politely to the officers as they walked away. You could tell that Julia’s attention was almost entirely diverted and she kept glancing back at the retreating officers. You couldn't blame her, really. Some of them were rather handsome. But it wouldn't do for Mr. Choi to notice her distractions, so you hurried to engage him in another conversation. 

“Perhaps we might see your offices, Mr. Choi?” you asked quickly. 

Seungcheol blinked. “Oh-yes, of course. This way.”

You kept a grip on Julia’s hand and followed Mr. Choi as he led you towards his offices. Mr. Choi ran his shipping business from a large building  further down from the harbour and you were unsurprised to find the office full of clerks and accountants, writing letters and poring over ledgers. Some of the clerks bowed their heads towards you politely, clearly surprised to see ladies at the office. 

“Well, here we are,” Seungcheol said. “I am afraid the office is a rather uninteresting place.”

“It is fascinating,” you replied honestly. “I am quite curious to know what exactly happens here in this office, Mr. Choi.”

“Correspondence, mostly,” Seungcheol replied with a smile. Despite declaring himself that the office was uninteresting, he clearly did not really think so. “Taking orders, recording consignments, planning routes and schedules, hiring seamen, drafting bills of lading, insurance policies and invoices…”

Julia frowned. “It sounds dreadfully complex just to bring some cargo over on a ship,” she remarked. 

Seungcheol nodded. “I'm afraid it can be.”

“It must be a lot for you to manage,” you said. 

“Not at all. I enjoy it very much,” Seungcheol replied honestly. “I built this business myself. I do occasionally wish I had help- I asked Vernon to join me in running the business, but he has his own passions to follow and wants to become a barrister. I cannot blame him. The shipping business is not for everyone.”

“It is very admirable,” you told him honestly. 

“Thank you, Miss Beaumont.”

Julia glanced around the office, clearly bored. “Might we go to the beach now?”

“Of course… allow me to call for the carriage.”

—-----------------------------------------------

The Portsmouth beach was incredibly beautiful. You felt a sort of resounding peace among the crashing waves and the vast blueness of the ocean and sky. You closed your eyes as a gentle spray of water from the crashing waves fell across your face. 

“I see that the beach is to your liking,” Seungcheol commented. 

You opened your eyes and reallzed that his dark gaze was fixed on you. You flushed involuntarily- there was something very charismatic about the soft smiles that Seungcheol bestowed rarely and briefly. He was indeed a handsome man and you were, after all, just a woman. 

“Yes, I like it very much,” you replied. “The ocean is beautiful. I saw it from the carriage as soon as we arrived yesterday. I had been hoping that we would have a view of it from your manor.”

Seungcheol's eyebrows furrowed. “Do you not have a view of it from your room?”

“Oh- no, our rooms face your lovely garden instead,” you replied lightly. You turned back to look for Julia, who had fallen behind and stopped to fiddle with her shoes. “Julia! Are you all right?” you called out. The crashing waves almost drowned out your voice. 

“I am all right, there is just some sand in my shoes!” Julia yelled back. 

“Do you need help?”

“No- only wait for me a few moments while I turn them inside out!” Julia called. 

You nodded and turned back towards Seungcheol, who was still looking at you. His hands were clasped behind his back and his broad shoulders seemed a little tense. His dark eyes faltered for a moment and then he spoke. 

“Miss Beaumont,” he said softly. 

You looked up at him. “Yes?”

“I know that our acquaintance is too short for me to speak to you so openly. But my experience of you has been that you are a very thoughtful and mature woman who is capable of understanding the complex nature of life and relationships.”

You stared up at him in surprise, trying not to feel too embarrassed. “Oh- well- I cannot say that this is a compliment I have ever received before, Mr. Choi, but I thank you for it all the same.”

“If I speak to you with a level of honesty that is unusual for our short acquaintance, I hope you will not resent me for it.”

“I should never resent someone for being honest,” you assured him. 

“Then I will take this opportunity to speak plainly about the elephant in the room, and most certainly the reason that you and your family find yourselves in Portsmouth. The entailment of the Beaumont estate due to the lack of male heirs in your family.”

You stared at him. You were embarrassed, but gratified that Seungcheol had taken the first step to actually broach the subject that was on everyone’s mind. It was painful to think about the possibility of months of  continued tip-toeing around the subject out of a sense of propriety. 

“Yes,” you said quietly. “I beg you not to let the entailment trouble you, Mr. Choi. We understand, the law being what it is-”

“But it does trouble me, exceedingly so,” Seungcheol replied firmly. There was a sudden fire in his eyes. “Miss Beaumont, I am a very proud man. Perhaps you have heard of this through rumours but my late father was a gambler. He gambled away my family’s estate until there was almost nothing left by the time he died and I turned of age. I have spent the better part of a decade building my shipping business and restoring my family’s finances and reputation in society.” 

You looked up at Seungcheol with wide eyes and nodded. “Indeed, I have heard as much about you, Mr. Choi. You are known for being a self-made man and I have seen here today what you have built. You are well within your rights to be proud of your success.” 

Seungcheol took a deep breath. “Thank you. But I want your family to understand that it gave me no pleasure to learn of the entailment. It is not in my nature to rejoice at a handout, especially not when it is being stolen from the family it rightfully belongs to.”

You sighed. “There isn't really any question of rightfulness, here, the law is what it is-”

“Yes,” Seungcheol replied. “If it was within my power to refuse the estate, or to transfer it back to you and your cousin, then I would do so in a heartbeat. But it is not in my power to do so. The terms of the entailment will not permit me to transfer the Beaumont estate to anyone other than my own male heirs.”

“We understand, Mr. Choi,” you assured him quietly. 

Seungcheol inhaled sharply. “I have discussed this with my mother, and we have agreed that the only conscionable manner to deal with the Beaumont estate is to offer a union of our families, to ensure that any son I pass the estate to will be of Beaumont lineage.”

You took a deep breath and looked up at him. Seungcheol’s dark eyes were worried; you could see the honesty behind them. This was not a performance or empty words. Seungcheol was genuinely conflicted and distressed by the knowledge that he would be inheriting your family’s fortune and estate. He clearly considered it his duty to do whatever was in his power to ensure it stayed in your family. 

“Then I must return the favour and be equally open with you as well, Mr. Choi,” you said honestly. “A union of the families is exactly what my aunt is hoping for. We have come to Portsmouth in the expectation that you will be persuaded to marry Julia, and that the Beaumont estate can remain within our family.”

Seungcheol was silent for a long moment. He looked at you, and then back at Julia. Your young cousin was still balancing carefully on one foot as she struggled to empty beach sand out of her shoes. 

“Of course,” Seungcheol said finally. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and left it slightly ruffled. “But Julia is… young.”

“She is of marriageable age,” you replied. 

“No doubt,” Seungcheol replied quickly. “Since Lord Beaumont is still in good health, I assume there is no need to act with any haste. I would like to spend more time with Julia and your family. But I hope it will bring Lady Beaumont some relief to learn that I have every intention of uniting our families when the time is right. I trust you will convey this to her in the appropriate manner?”

You bowed your head. “Of course, Mr. Choi.”

“Thank you.”

You opened your mouth to respond but Julia had already come running over to you; her hair was a little dishevelled and she looked annoyed. 

“There is no end of sand in my shoes,” she mumbled. “May we return to the manor?”

“Yes, indeed, let us return.”

—------------------------------------------------

You went to your aunt’s bedroom after dinner, to tell her about the events of the day. It would bring her some relief to know for certain that Seungcheol intended to marry Julia, and you did not want to deny her that peace of mind. 

“I am not sure what I think of him saying all this to you,” your aunt admitted with a frown, “but I suppose he was sensible enough to know not to say it to Julia.”

“She is too young, and still dreams of love,” you muttered to your aunt. “She would not have enjoyed speaking of her own marriage in such… economical terms.”

Lady Beaumont sighed. “All the same, it is indeed a relief to know that Mr. Choi intends to do the right thing. Our time here is not wasted after all. We shall rest easy after your uncle passes.”

You nodded. “We are lucky, aunt. Mr. Choi is… well, he seems to be a very good man. I find his behaviour quite admirable.”

“Well it's not much use to you,” your aunt snapped. “You must still try to find yourself a husband, although we cannot hope for anyone too rich. Mrs. Choi talks highly of a certain widower called Commodore James. Perhaps you should visit the assembly rooms and try to dance with this man.”

You winced. “Aunt, he must be twenty years my senior.’

“If you wanted a young man then you should have found one while you were young,” Lady Beaumont said dismissively. “Don't come to me now in your late twenties and complain to me about the age of your suitors. It will be a relief if we can find one at all. Now good night.”

“Good night, aunt,” you muttered. 

You walked back to the room you shared with Julia, only to find that there were a few maids carrying your luggage out of the room. You stopped in your tracks and called out to one of them.

“Are those my dresses? Where are you taking those?” you asked. 

The maid placed your trunk down and bowed. “Apologies, Miss Beaumont, Mr. Choi asked us to have you moved to a different room on the other end of the corridor. He said to put you in one with a better view of the ocean.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Oh-yes, thank you. That would be lovely,” you muttered. 

“I will show you your new room, please follow me.”

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

[sissylittlefeather]

Kinktober Day 31: Biting

Happy Halloween! 🎃

Bonded Pt 2: Can't Help Falling In Love

A/N: SURPRISE!!! The last Kinktober fic is a sequel to my Halloween vampire fic from last year! AND I'm turning it into a series called Bonded! I hope you all enjoy it!

Quick reminders: you are a vampire at the Moulin Rouge in 1959 when Elvis Presley walks in. Things transpire and afterwards he asks you to turn him into a vampire... Will you?

Need to read the first part? Find it HERE.

Warnings: 18+ MInors DNI, kissing, oral sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, also mentions of blood (duh)

Word Count: ~2.5k

Kinktober Masterlist

"Elvis, I said no."

"Listen, honey, I told you. If you won't do it, I'll find someone who will." He's pacing back and forth across the floor of your small apartment. You brought him back here when you both woke up in the middle of the night still on that small couch. Now it's morning and he's insisting he wants you to make him like you. 

"Good luck. There aren't many of us. I only know of a couple others." He stops and turns to you. 

"I'm Elvis Presley. I can find anyone I want." You purse your lips and shake your head. 

"You sound like a petulant child." 

"Don't do that. Don't act like you're so much older than me."

"Elvis, I was born in 1832." He stops pacing and drops down on the bed next to you. 

"Oh." It comes out breathlessly and he turns towards you, brushing your hair out of your face. "You don't look a day over 25. I want that." 

"Why? Why do you want this so bad?" He sighs deeply and takes your hand in his, kissing your palm. 

"My mother died." 

"Yeah, Elvis if-"

"If I'm a vampire, I can make the important people in my life vampires and then I never have to lose anyone ever again." 

"That's really not how it works."

"Why not?" You're sure there must be a reason but you can't think of it. 

"Elvis, I'm not doing this if that's your reason. I'm not even sure I know how to do it." He drops your hand and looks at you hard. 

"Fine. I want to be immortal. I want to never be forgotten. I want to exist forever. Is that better?"

"Elvis..." He puts his hand on the side of your face and makes you look at him. 

"I trust you. Please. Help me." His blue eyes are so round and pleading that it's impossible for you to say no. If you didn't know any better you'd think he was already a vampire compelling you. 

"I'm not sure I know how." He scoffs. 

"Yes you do. Come on." You shrug. 

"I think you have to drink my blood or something." He laughs. 

"Thats it?! We could do that right now!" You shake your head and stand up out of the bed. 

"No. No Elvis. What if that's not how you do it?" 

"Then I stay human and drink a little of your blood. It's weird, but I'll survive." You look at him on the bed, a puppy, so young and eager. You're not even sure he knows what he's asking for: the long and lonely life of immortality when everyone around you ages and dies. 

"You don't want this." 

"Look. Here's the deal. I'm doing this with or without you. So you can decide if you want to help me or leave me at the mercy of some other vampire. And he may not be as-"

"She." 

"What?" 

"I've never met a male vampire. They're very rare." He raises his eyebrows. Even better. You pinch the bridge of your nose and then look at him. There's a determined look on his face and you know that if you say no, someone out there will say yes. 

"If I do this, you have to listen to me about what you need to do." He nods excitedly. 

"Yes. I'll do anything you say." 

"Okay. God, I don't even really know what I'm doing." You wring your hands and whimper. 

"I think I read in a book once that we have to have sex first."

"Wait, really?" He shakes his head with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

"Nah, but I figured if I might die I should try to fuck you one last time." 

"Elvis! You're not going to die. Just... I think I need to bite you again. And then I'll bite myself and let you drink from me." He nods seriously, all hints of mischief gone. Your stomach flip flops as he leans his head over to give you access to his neck. You crawl into his lap straddling him and he hands go to your hips to hold you in place. It's hard to ignore the fact that he does have a massive erection, but you try to and lean forward, licking the spot on his neck where you bit him last night. He whimpers a little and you feel your fangs descend. If nothing else, you are hungry and he's here and willing. 

He yelps a little as your fangs sink into his neck and he squeezes your hips a little harder. You revel in the sweet taste of his blood on your tongue. He tastes abnormally good and if you were a younger vampire you might completely drain him by accident, but after a bit you know you've had enough. You pull back and he looks at you in a daze. Good, the venom in your fangs is working. You lean down and bite your own arm, jumping a bit at how bad it hurts. 

"Here, drink." You hold your arm up for him and he presses his lips, his perfectly heart-shaped pillow lips, to the place where your blood is flowing. He moans a little, trying to get used to the taste. eventually he backs off of you and waves his hand. 

"I can't do any more. That has to be enough, right?" You're genuinely not sure, so you shrug and nod. "Fuck, I'm... I think... woah..." 

You catch him as he seems to fall backwards on the bed in slow motion and help him lay down. 

"Elvis? Elvis!" You pat his cheek and try to shake him but he's out cold. He's still breathing, though, so you tell yourself that's a good sign. You rearrange him so that he's laying correctly in the bed and lie down next to you, snuggling into his arm. 

"God, I really hope I haven't killed Elvis Presley." You mumble quietly as you let sleep take you as well. 

******

He wakes up first, so when you finally stir and open your eyes, he's staring at you. 

"Hi baby. I'm glad you're awake. Are you hungry? Do you eat food or do you want... me?" 

"Woah, Elvis, slow down. Aren't you hungry? Oh God, you didn't feed already did you?" You look around the apartment, afraid you'll see a dead girl in there somewhere, but there's nothing. He kisses your cheek and then mumbles into your neck sheepishly. 

"I'm hungry, but I still want regular food. And you. I want you." You raise one eyebrow. He should be consumed with bloodlust right now. The only thing you remember about being turned is waking up so hungry for blood that you felt like you might die. But the way his hands are all over your body right now and you feel him rubbing himself on your thigh, it seems the only thing he's consumed with is actual lust. 

"Elvis, you don't want blood?" He shakes his head, climbing on top of you and kissing down into the valley between your breasts. 

"No. But God, I need to fuck you. Please." He keeps kissing down your abdomen to the place just below your bellybutton and above your panty line. You whimper as he starts to press soft kitten licks there and slips his thumbs under the lace. "I need it. I need you so bad." 

"O-okay..." You moan softly as he pulls your panties down, his fingers immediately going to your center as he kisses up your legs. 

"So pretty... I love you..." He mumbles just before his mouth settles on your clit. 

"What? OH...." You know you need to question him about what he just said, but it feels so good you can't. "Fuck, Elvis."

You moan loudly and grab the front of his hair as he fucks you with his tongue, licking and sucking you with a fervor you've never experienced. He looks up at you with those blue eyes, face buried in your pussy, and it's a look of pure adoration. Something has gone terribly wrong. But you can't work it out right now while his tongue slides over and around your clit. 

The pleasure builds to a fever pitch in your hips and then snaps, washing over you like a tidal wave as you shudder and pulse in his mouth. He sits up on his knees eagerly as soon as you're finished and pushes his underwear down, one hand on his hard cock. 

"Was that good? Baby can I please?" You look up at him and try to figure out what's happened, but the way he begs you to let him have you makes it impossible to say no. You nod your head and he smiles, putting your ankles on his shoulders and pushing into you. Your eyes almost cross at the sensation. He's big in just the right way and, more than that, he knows how to use his size. 

"Feels... so good..." He groans as he slides in and out of you with increasing speed. You whimper as he really starts to pound you. "Not gonna last long."

"That's okay, baby." You try to reassure him, but he looks like he might cry. He bites his bottom lip and grunts. 

"Fuck... hafta.. oh!" He moans and leans over on top of you as his hips stutter into you, cock throbbing as he fills you with his cum. You try to figure out what's going on as he peppers you with kisses, but when you hear what he's whispering as he kisses you, you freeze. “I love you… I love you… I love you…” 

“Elvis, stop.” You grab his face and push him back to look him in the eyes. He's not a vampire, but something dramatic has happened. Now he's in love with you? This can't be right. 

“What? I just… I can't get enough of you. Please don't ever leave me. I'll do anything.” You shake your head. 

“It didn't work. You're not a vampire.”

“No, but that's okay. I need to be human so you can feed from me.” Your eyebrows shoot straight up. Is he volunteering to be your consistent source of food? 

“Okay. Get up. We need to find another vampire and figure out what went wrong.”

“Wrong? Honey, I-I-I love you. That's not wrong?” You look up at him and his puppy dog eyes almost break you. But this is Elvis Presley. There's no way he just fell in love with you in a matter of hours. 

“Come on.” You get out of bed and get dressed and he follows suit, eager to do anything you ask of him. 

******

You stand on the porch of the big, old house nervously, with Elvis wrapped around you from behind. He hasn't let go of you since you left the apartment, always having to have at least one hand on you. It's sweet, but it's getting a little old. 

“Just knock, honey.”

“I'm scared.” 

“Why?” He kisses your cheek. Okay, maybe it is nice to have him so devoted to you. 

“What if I really messed you up? I'm scared of what she's going to say.” 

“I don't feel messed up. I feel happier than I've been in a long time.” He nuzzles your hair and you have to remind yourself: this isn't real. You sigh and then knock on the door loudly. It slowly creaks open and you stand there frozen on the doorstep. 

“Come on, let's go in.” He whispers in your ear. 

“I can't. I have to be invited.” You whisper back. 

“Come in! Please!” You hear a woman yell from the back of the house. He moves to hold your hand as you cross the threshold. 

As you stand in the foyer, a beautiful woman of about 60 enters the room. She's unimaginably gorgeous with her white hair and green eyes and you're both a little in awe of her. 

“I am Mary. Who told you about me?” She stares intensely and you're not sure if you should be afraid or not. 

“My friend Anya.”

“Ah, yes, I know Anya. How long have you been one of us dear?” You do the math in your head quickly. 

“Just shy of a hundred years.” Elvis looks at you, amazed. 

“A young one.” 

“She's young?!” Elvis speaks for the first time and her eyes dart over to him coldly. She seems to get taller as she speaks to him. 

“I am over a thousand years old. She is a child. We won't even begin to discuss what you are.” You feel Elvis bristle and move him behind you. He doesn't object, but instead obeys you happily, reminding you of why you're there. 

“Mary, we need your help.”

“I assumed as much. What have you done?” You have a sneaking suspicion that she knows, but you say it out loud anyway. You explain to her how you tried to turn him, how he passed out and then woke up like this. She erupts in laughter. 

“Oh, you sweet young thing, you.” You're a little annoyed by her tone and her laughter. This doesn't seem like a time to be laughing. She senses your irritation and stops. “You've created a blood bond with him.” 

“A what?!” Your knees go weak and Elvis holds you up. 

“A blood bond. You didn't go far enough to turn him, just far enough to make him your familiar. He is blood bonded to you for life.”

“Oh, God.” You sink onto a bench and he sits next to you. 

“No, honey, that's bullshit. I love you. There's no blood bond or whatever.” He pats you reassuringly, but it has the opposite effect. 

“Tell me, child. How long have you known her?” He looks up at the older woman. 

“W-we met last night.” She raises her eyebrows and doesn't have to say anything else. Elvis looks back at you and shakes his head. “No. No, I feel it. It's real. No…” 

His eyes get glossy and wet like he's about to cry and you feel a lump form in your throat. Before either of you can get too emotional, though, Mary cuts in. 

“Would you like to know how to break it?” 

“Yes.” You answer without hesitation and Elvis looks like you've slapped him in the face. His mouth hangs open a bit and he blinks to get rid of the tears. The thought of going back to being without you is devastating. You take his face in your hands. “I need you to remember who you are. This will not work. You cannot give up your life and your career to follow me around like a puppy. I won't let you.”

You turn back to Mary. 

“How do we break it?” She gives you a wicked smile. 

“It's easy. You kill him.” 

******

To Be Continued

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @deltafalax @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @jhoneybees @polksaladava @searchingforgravity @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @your-nanas-house @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69

[dat-town]

mine for the summer

Characters: Leehan & female reader

Setting & genre: coming of age, summer romance, angst and fluff (it has a happy end!)

Summary: Busan is your hideout, your runaway place, your freedom bought on stolen time. Leehan is your first love, your safe place, your everything. At least, for the summer.

Warnings: stage name used, OC is coming out of a burnout in the beginning and she has a relapse, mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, past hospitalization, emotionally distant parents, parental pressure on academics

Words: 9.4k

Author’s note: title from One Direction’s Summer Love. here is the Romeo + Juliet movie scene that gets mentioned

turns out i cannot not write an at least bit of an angsty story for your bday but i do sincerely hope you have a very happy one, @restlessmaknae <3 also of course you would start singing this song in july to give me a heart attack right before i accidentally told you i’m writing about Leehan

The humidity of air sticks to you like second skin, sweat glistening on your nape where your hair gets tangled in the summer heat. With closed eyes and the tickling feeling of sand under your bare feet, you listen to the ocean waves washing up the beach and children giggling. You take a deep breath of air filled with salt and fish and oil, something so uniquely Busan that you feel like fourteen again.

It’s been years since you had come to visit. Excuses were easy to find: too busy, too far; reasons were much harder.

But now you’re here and you realize that you missed it. The quiet serenity of being hidden away in the part of town that’s far from the busy skyscraper downtown and the overwhelming tourist traps. You remember spending summers running down these sandy beaches and playing in the water, mouth sticky with fruit and palms scratched with falls and youth. Then you turned older and got bored of the quiet neighborhood, the ocean losing its significance after seeing it too many times, eventually you stopped coming altogether. Now you are even older but still young, barely out of school, the CSAT exams still haunting your dreams. You’re just twenty but sometimes that age feels like it bears the weight of the world. Your world at least.

You open your eyes and squint right away at the brightness of the Sun and feel its burning heat on your bare shoulders only cooled by some nice breeze. The air might smell like salt, fish and oil but it tastes like freedom.

You take one more deep breath, willing yourself not to think of your mother’s disappointed words about your behavior nor her disapproval of you coming here, and push yourself up. You grab your discarded sandals and head back. Your grandparents must be worried already. In their eyes you are still fourteen, forever a child.

And they might be right because not even halfway down the beach, you abruptly halt and hiss, pain shooting into your feet and your carmine blood drips onto the golden sand. Balancing yourself on one leg, you check on the wound, a cut on the softest flesh part of your feet and the culprit, a broken shell in the sand. Clumsily you take your water bottle from your bag to clean the blood off, your skin still sensitive around the fresh wound. You debate whether you should tiptoe the rest of the way or clean your footwear off sand and dirt as much as you can but before you could decide, a stranger approaches you with worriedly furrowed brows.

“Are you okay?” He asks in a deep voice but you don’t pay too much attention to him, too busy to figure out what to do with your injury.

“Yeah, it’s just a small cut,” you brush his worry off, expecting him to walk away or maybe to give you directions to the closest pharmacy but he does neither.

“Here. Hold onto me,” the stranger offers his arm which you reluctantly but take because your balancing skills honestly aren’t the best. Then you can do nothing but stare as the boy around your age suddenly pulls out a plaster from his shorts’ pocket and leans down to inspect your wound. It’s a bit awkward, having a stranger look at your feet, so your fingers curl inside themselves around his arm. The boy is gentle, barely touching your skin as he applies the plaster and once he’s done, he straightens, looking down at you with sparkling, shiny eyes.

The first thing you notice about him other than his height and the low register of voice is actually his eyes, how pretty and expressive they are. The second thing is the way the wind blows his longer, almond colored fringe into his eyes. Your fingers twitch to brush it away just to find out if they are as soft as they look.

Then you realize that you’re staring, so you quickly look away, down at your feet that now has a cute seahorse patterned plaster on it.

“Thanks,” you mutter, a bit dumbfounded but amused at the same time. “Do you just carry around plasters everywhere?” You blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind as you lower your leg, still feeling a bit sensitive but much better.

“I can be a bit clumsy at times. And too curious for my own good or so I have been told,” the boy shrugs with a sheepish smile on his face. “I’m Leehan by the way.”

“I’m…”

“Y/N-ah! There you are,” your grandmother’s voice cuts off your introduction and like a kid caught doing something you shouldn’t have, you take a step backwards, away from the boy, on instinct.

“I have to go,” you look at the stranger, Leehan, one last time apologetically. “Thanks again.”

“Take care,” the boy smiles warmly and waves, the movement cute just like the animal print plaster he had on him.

You limp all the way towards your grandma who stands there with her hands on her hips, ready to scold but you hush her and tell her it’s nothing serious, that you are okay. Still you listen to her tsk-ing and nagging as you walk back inside the house but once she seems to run out of everything she could have said about it, she changes the topic swiftly.

“You barely got here and you are already snatching boys?”

“If by snatching you mean embarrassing myself in front of them, then sure,” you try to softly tone down your grandma’s enthusiasm but she keeps chattering despite the sarcasm in your answer.

“Leehan is a sweet boy, always helping when he sees me with lots of groceries. He lives in the neighborhood with his family and I think he graduated high school last year, so you must be the same age.”

You hate how hopeful she sounds because you didn’t come here to befriend people. When you called asking if you could spend the summer here like you used to, except this time you would help them out, your grandma was happy to take you in but worried too that you would be lonely or bored alone with ‘only them old folks’ but honestly, you craved a little peace and alone time. That’s why you needed to get out of Seoul too, away from its people. From all its memories.

So you just make a noncommittal hum and escape to the kitchen to help your grandpa with the scallion pancakes for dinner.

“What’s your grandmother fussing about?” He asks, pushing the glasses further up his nose.

“Nothing, I just stepped on a broken shell,” you shrug and get three plates from the shelves and kimchi from the fridge.

“Typical. I heard about it for weeks when I accidentally cut my finger one time,” he recited and you smiled, feeling loved and cared for. At home.

The market is stuffy, different smells of sea animals, fried food, fresh fruit and detergent mixing with the sounds of vendors arguing and negotiating over the static sound of music coming from an old radio. It’s busy but different type of busy compared to the crowded metro coaches. It’s lively here and while you had studied your ass off for the promise of a future corporate job, here you are packaging tteokbokki for takeaway, always adding extra because that’s a given for regulars. Not that you think it’s below you, you love the food stall aunties and uncles very much, but you would have never imagined yourself sweating next to a spicy boiling broth in the heat of summer. Maybe it had something to do with the way your mother talked about her parents’ job so derogatorily, always telling you that you’re only somebody if you’re well educated and a career woman. Maybe that’s why she was so against you coming here. Because it was a place she had run  away from.

You’re in the middle of chopping scallions in the back when you hear a cheerful call of Ahjumma! and your grandma perks up more than usual.

“Leehan-ah, are you going down to the beach?” She asks and you feel the back of your neck heat up but you blame it on the Sun. It has been days since the shell incident but the embarrassment still creeps on you. You hope the boy won’t notice you or at least not say anything about it.

“Later. First I have some errands to run,” Leehan says and your granny coos, probably patting his cheek too, calling him a good boy. Then casually while she is stirring the tteok in the pot, she suddenly changes the topic.

“If you have some free time, could you show our Y/N around? She doesn't really go out on her own.”

“Grandma!” You turn around, sulky at the callout. A mistake because you can clearly see the boy failing to hide his amused smile.

“Sure. If she can keep up,” he raises a brow elegantly at you which immediately makes you defensive.

“Are you calling me short?” You straighten up without meaning to because come on, you aren’t that much shorter!

“I’m asking if your foot is alright.” Leehan corrects your assumption with a know-it-all smile plastered on his face but he still manages to pull it off in a genuine way with a hint of worry. It makes you feel flustered for a moment.

“Oh, yeah, it’s fine,” you clear your throat and clean your hands in a rag cloth nearby.

“I’m just going to the post office, I’m free after that,” the boy says, looking straight at you from under his longer fringe, over your grandma’s shoulder.

“Great. Go have fun!” The old lady exclaims, turning and walking up to you, untying your apron faster than you would expect from somebody her age.

“Grandma, I’m not leaving you alone,” you protest but it’s no use. She tsks and shakes her head as if she couldn’t believe what she’s hearing.

“Please, we were doing fine before too. I can just get your grandpa to stop playing mahjong with the neighbors if more people come,” she brushes off your worries easily and basically pushes you out of the food stall’s kitchen area. You’re just about to complain about your bag when she shoves it towards your chest and all you can do is stare at her, shocked but you can’t really say anything when she smiles so sweetly and wishes that you have a good time.

Eventually, you’re the one to give up. It’s not like you could make her let you work against her wishes and she seems very keen on making sure that you go out and get friends while you’re here. It was difficult to convince her to let you help out at the shop at all to pay back in a way for their hospitality no matter how much they told you that they would be happy just to have you over the summer.

It’s only when you’re a little further as you follow Leehan through the market, when you speak up.

“You know, you don’t have to do what my grandmother asks you. I can be on my own just fine,” you mutter, not wanting him to think you’re some child that needs a babysitter. Just because you like to stay in your room, it doesn’t mean you would get lost if you set a foot outside.

“I’m sure, don’t worry. But it’s no bother. I like to be an advocate for the city,” the boy grins at you and as if on cue, an auntie greets him and insists on giving him a bag of peaches. Leehan asks about her grandchildren and compliments her harvest. He charms everybody effortlessly, a real sweet talker but he doesn’t seem fake about it at all and it’s kind of lovely, just like his fish themed plasters.

With people constantly greeting him, it takes way longer to get to the post office than it should have but at least you can laugh when he loses paper, rock, scissors against a nine year old kid and is bullied into trying something really spicy. You try to hide your smile while the little kid is unabashed about his reaction when Leehan grimaces at the hot spices, finding his disgusted nose scrunch hilarious. In apology, you buy him iced green tea at the next stall you see and he smiles at you brightly like the Sun.

Once Leehan is done at the post office, you expect it to get awkward but it’s him who breaks the silence as you stand in the shade, sweat dripping down your back in the moonsoon season’s humidity.

“So… you’re here for the summer?”

“Hm. I missed the sea,” you hum quietly, keeping your eyes on the bright horizon and the shimmering line of water in the distance.

It isn’t entirely a lie but not the whole truth either. Being so burned out after high school that you got a panic attack at the thought of going to university, so you had to postpone a semester and the disappointment it caused to your parents certainly isn’t something you want to dump on a practically stranger. But even if Leehan has a feeling that you’re not 100% sincere, he doesn’t push, which is something you appreciate.

“Well, then you came to the right place. Not to be biased but Busan has the prettiest beaches.”

“Prettier than Jeju?” You tease just for the sake of it and it makes the boy chuckle.

“Of course! Come on, I will show you my favorite place,” he tilts his head, a clear invitation and you give in because you don’t have anything better to do anyway.

The Sun is still high up on the sky, white clouds clear against the blue of it. You’re fanning yourself but it doesn’t help much. Leehan however doesn’t seem bothered by the heat, so you find yourself asking:

“Did you grow up here?”

“Born and raised,” he nods with a proud smile which isn’t that surprising because he has that more laidback way of talking that locals around here have. At least he’s not talking as fast as the neighbor ahjussi whom you have trouble understanding. “You have a Seoul dialect though.”

“That’s the standard way of speaking, just saying,” you roll your eyes at him calling the way you speak a dialect which makes him laugh. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

It’s silly arguing over something like this but it’s actually fun, you find yourself smiling without meaning to. Something that has come harder lately. So you end up answering the boy’s unasked question about your upbringing. You tell him about growing up among metal skyscrapers, the Han River and Seoul Forest being your escape, only spending your summers in Busan, your mother’s hometown until you were fourteen. Leehan listens and asks random questions like whether you have ever been to the COEX Aquarium or if you ever wanted to be a mermaid as a little girl. It’s surprisingly easy to talk with him, to open up. Maybe it’s because you know he doesn’t know you well enough to judge or even if he did, it doesn’t matter much because you would leave at the end of the summer anyways.

In the meantime you reach the sea and walk along the shore farther from the crowded beach and bay areas. When you come across a bunch of larger rocks, Leehan climbs onto the top easily and holds out a hand for you to help you up too. Tentatively but you take up on his offer and let him pull you up on the slightly slippery rock. He doesn’t let go until you land on stable ground on the other side. There are smaller rocks and pebble stones splattered across the sand there stretching from the clean turquoise blue waters to a cave overshadowed by greenery. It’s beautiful and you can’t believe you’re the only ones here.

“How did you find this place?” You ask in awe, wandering farther ahead. Even the sand is cooler here from the trees’ shade.

“Honestly, I don’t go out a lot either. I just like to go down to the beach and be, you know. So I have been looking for a place where I can chill and well, I had years,” the boy says with a hidden smile in the corner of his mouth as your grandmother’s words about your hermit behavior echoes in your ears.

Of course, you know that she means well and that she’s a social butterfly, so it’s weird for her that you are not that outgoing at your age. Or maybe she has heard from your mother of those weeks where you refused to leave your room let alone the house. Things had been bad then, now you’re getting better. You have come all the way to Busan after all. Was it to run away from your problems? Maybe, but also you hoped that not being in an environment that reminded you of your failures would help.

“Do you always bring girls here?” You ask, more playful than anything as you balance between two rocks, looking back at Leehan over your shoulder. You can hear him snort and catch the way he scratches the back of his neck.

“Not really,” he admits sheepishly. “Just the special ones,” he adds with a mischievous smirk on his face. Tsk, what a flirt, you shake your head in disbelief but amused.

“Aren’t you afraid that I will ruin your chill time here?” You ask as you settle onto a place in the shades, closing your eyes as you enjoy the cool breeze against your sweaty shoulders.

“Not really,” comes the answer closer than you expected as Leehan settles on the ground not far from you. You squint your eyes open to see his expression but he’s only looking at the sea fondly.

You don’t talk much afterwards, just sharing bits and bobs of your lives, little anecdotes. Leehan eventually offers to walk you home when it gets close to dinner time. You could easily find your way with Naver Maps but you let him anyway and try to keep up with his recommendations of Busan places to check out; you probably forget half of them though. You don’t exchange contacts, it somehow doesn’t even occur to you because you’re pretty sure you will run into each other one way or another. It’s all nice and cozy. Something you could get used to.

Even though you expected to meet Leehan, you didn’t think it would be so soon. But trust your grandma to play the matchmaker despite your firm reminder that you didn’t come to stay with them over the summer to get a boyfriend.

Still, you should have known better when you agreed to get cat food at the local pet store in lieu of one of your grandmother’s friends. You feared she would have gone herself and carried it all if you weren’t going and at that point you were just happy if she let you do anything yourself because you felt like a spoiled guest at her house. But of course, she had ulterior motives, you realize when behind the store’s counter, there’s none other than Leehan with his pretty smile and soft-looking hair.

“Are you stalking me?” He grins when he spots you after the jingling sound of the door chime signals your arrival, one side of his mouth curling more upwards then the other, the asymmetry of it making him even more handsome.

“Blame my grandma. She sent me here on an errand.”

You are quick to give him your excuse but it only makes the boy pout slightly and you can’t tell whether he’s faking it or he’s actually disappointed.

“I thought you missed my wonderful company,” he puts a hand over his heart and ah, that’s definitely over exaggerated.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” you deadpan as you walk up to the counter and pull out your phone to get the list of things you should buy.

You show the pet food brands and quantities to the boy and while he’s off to get them from the back, you look around in the shop. There are all sorts of cat and dog supplies but further in the back you see tanks and you swear you see movement in some, so your curiosity brings the worst out of you and you wander closer, smiling upon seeing the blue and golden fish in various prettily decorated glass boxes. You’re so busy looking inside the tanks that you get startled when Leehan speaks up from behind you.

“Do you like fish?”

“Oh… actually, I have wanted a fish tank at home ever since I saw Romeo + Juliet,” you admit as you turn to face the boy. He furrows his brows in confusion and you somehow feel urged to explain it in more detail. “It’s an adaptation from the 90s. In this version, Romeo and Juliet saw each other first through a fish tank at the ball. I just thought it’s… romantic,” you cut yourself off when you realise your’re rambling about embarrassing girly things and clear your throat. “Anyways, my parents obviously didn’t let me have one.”

“That’s cute,” Leehan says, his smile half-teasing, half-sincere and you feel heat coloring your cheeks. How can he just say things like that? “I have one at home.”

He adds casually but you immediately perk up.

“Really? Do you have pictures of it?” You can’t help but inquire and luckily the boy doesn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he seems pretty excited that he’s able to talk about his fish. He keeps showing you pictures of different states of the fish tank and what kind of fish he had before and what else he wants to get one day. He also tells you that this is his go-to place when it comes to buying fish supplies and it’s pretty cool that the owner lets him work here part-time over the summer. You are so distracted that the next customer has to come to the back looking for the cashier which is a bit awkward but you both laugh about it.

You shuffle around in the back while the customer gets the new leash for his dog and when he leaves, you go to the checkout counter too to pay for the cat food. You already stayed longer than you intended to do, so you do a little ‘hwaiting’ gesture at Leehan as a goodbye but his words stop you before you could leave.

“Would you like to go to the aquarium this weekend?” He asks and you swear you can hear the nervousness in his tone despite the smooth, casual delivery or his confident front.

“Sure, why not?” You try to play it cool too and eventually you agree to meet in front of the place on Saturday, so you leave the pet shop not only with cat food but weekend plans too and a smile on your face.

It’s an understatement to say that your grandma is over the moon when you tell them that you will be out Saturday because you made plans with Leehan. Your grandpa asks though if he needs to talk with ‘this young man about his intentions’ and you protest vehemently. It’s not even a date after all, because it isn’t, right? You’re just hanging out. Your granny waves her hand and chuckles at the interaction.

“Let them be. We were young once too,” she says in that voice she always has when she gets nostalgic. You listen to her stories about her youth even if you have heard them dozens of times before because your grandma had such an eventful life. No wonder she always encourages you to ‘live a little’ and follow your heart. That’s how you don’t regret life looking back, she says.

So that’s what you are doing when Saturday comes and you get ready to go out. The loose-fitting white dress feels light against your skin and with a sudden wave of enthusiasm, you reach for your barely used eyeshadow palette. Today you feel like doing something special, like putting on silver, glittery makeup. You feel good when you look into the mirror but then you start second guessing it. Isn’t it too much for a simple hangout?

Too late, you realize because you’re already short on time to make it to the aquarium by the agreed time, so you brush off your worries. By some miracle you manage to catch the bus, trying not to think about your outfit or makeup being too much, too… date-y.

When you arrive at the entrance, Leehan is already there, his tall figure striking even from a distance, especially in the jeans and tucked-in, light blue shirt combo he wears. He stands by one of the pillars, scrolling through his phone but pockets it right away when he sees you.

“Hey… You look pretty,” he blurts out, faint rosiness coloring his cheeks and it makes you feel shy too. Your previous thoughts about taking this dressing up too far cease to exist.

“Thanks. You look good too,” you say because it’s true, but he always looks nice. Even in the bermuda shorts he wears to the beach or the pet store uniform t-shirt. Maybe it’s because of his slender figure or his prince-like features or just overall the casual confidence he holds himself with.

“Thanks,” Leehan mutters and looks away. It’s quite a different reaction from what he shows when ahjummas on the market pinch his cheeks and call him handsome. “Let’s go in.”

Inside it’s like a hidden Atlantis. You are surrounded by lovey-dovey couples walking hand-in-hand and families with kids running around. The blue hue of water is casted over everything and Leehan’s eyes sparkle in the dim light as he tells you about things he learned from documentaries about the deep sea or at university. It turns out he’s studying oceanology at Korean Maritime and Ocean University there in Busan which is pretty cool, something that suits him. When he asks about your side, unknowing to the turmoil inside you when it comes to your studies, you don’t tell him about the stress you have been under just to get into a SKY university. You don’t tell him about your messed up sleeping and eating schedules, the IV drops at hospitals, the anxiety and panic attacks nor the result of it all. You just shrug and tell him that you got into a good uni with a business management major, but it’s not really what you want to do. He doesn’t ask why you did it then or why you don’t change it. Instead he looks at you with a smile under the penguins’ majestic aquarium and asks:

“If nothing else mattered, what would you want to do then?”

You give it a thought because you didn’t quite have the luxury to think about what you really wanted before. It was always about what your parents wanted you to do. Until you decided to pack your things and come down to this beach town.

“Staying here forever,” you eventually respond and it sounds like an exaggeration, so you chuckle to soften the confession’s rough edges. Even if Leehan doesn’t know you well enough (yet) to understand the longing in those words, your yearning for the taste of freedom and the warmth of a home where you are waited for,che seems to understand. He just smiles wider and proceeds to tell about the crazy lifespan of some turtle species. It’s good, your tensed shoulders relax again as you follow him to the next section.

After you have thoroughly seen everything at the aquarium, you find a place nearby to eat at, then walk down the closeby popular Haeundae beach. It’s not as pretty as the one next to the lagoon Leehan showed you the other day and there are more people here than you would have preferred but it’s okay. You never seem to run out of topics, lighthearted ones, yet even silence is comfortable with Leehan.

“See you tomorrow at the beach?” You ask in lieu of saying goodbye on your way back. Your fingers are intertwined behind your back just to do something with them because they are sweaty and soiled with sand from the impromptu sand castle building you came up with under the last unforgiving rays of the Sun.

“Don’t miss me too much until then,” Leehan says with a corny smile playing on his lips instead of saying yes but you just laugh and let him be.

You ignore your grandma’s knowing glare from the living room as you run up the stairs two at a time, your white dress floating behind you like flower petals in the wind.

On Sunday you meet on the beach and stay out until the Sun disappears behind the horizon. Next week you help Leehan choose a new decoration for his fish tank and spend two hours in the pet store listening to him talk about the difference between algae types and the importance of filters and sub-filters. On Friday your grandparents are at the hospital for their usual check up, so you’re on your own in the food stall. Leehan comes around to keep you entertained but he ends up helping out when a bigger group appears. Sweet of him but you find out the hard way that he has shitty sense when it comes to spice, especially salt, measurements.

The week after, you run into each other in your local Olive Young while you’re getting a new nail polish color and he has a bottle of shampoo in his basket. You end up leaving with a new glittery eyeshadow palette too because the boy drops a comment that it would look pretty on you. You put it on together with the baby pink nail polish you just bought when you go to the outdoor screening of a Korean classic on the beach. Under fairy lights and the fluorescent reflections of the movie in Leehan’s sparkling eyes, you feel a rush of something selfish, a longing so deep it cuts and you have to look away before it becomes obvious.

You don’t talk about it, whether these are dates or not. Because talking about it would make it real. It would make it scary, because then you would have something to lose when the summer ends. It’s fragile but it’s yours and it’s enough, you tell yourself.

One of these days it rains. The kind of sudden summer downpour that feels way too nice on your heated skin in the humid, hot weather. It catches you in the middle of eating ice cream with Leehan and you can’t help but yelp when the first cold raindrops touch your bare shoulder. You both get up quickly and run for cover ice cream long forgotten but the rain just pours and pours and both of you are drenched by the time you reach the nearby cave.

You look up at Leehan from under your wet eyelashes, shivering slightly and burst out laughing at the sight of his hair sticking to his face weirdly like a soaked puppy. You know you don’t look any better because you feel your hair weight over your shoulders like a rag. You try your best to tie it up, out of your eyes but Leehan is still staring.

“What?” You ask, self-conscious and shy under his intense stare. Then you are holding your breath because the boy lifts his right hand and touches your face. His touch burns and leaves goosebumps in its wake as he brushes another lock of hair behind your ear.

The rain is loud around you but it all sounds saturated right there, at the entrance of the small cave just by the beach. You tremble, not from the cold but something akin to anticipation.

Leehan’s gaze meets your eyes. There’s softness and wonder in the depth of his brown orbs. You take a shaky breath as he runs his fingers down the expanse of your bare arm until he finds your hand and then he chuckles and pulls you out into the pouring rain.

“Yah!” You scream at him but you laugh too, a childish feeling bubbling up in your chest.

You chase each other around on the beach. The sand is wet under your feet and the sea is cold when you end up knees deep, splashing water at each other as if you could be even more soaked. Your laughters echo in the cave and you feel the most alive in a while.

You still laugh about it when the next day you wake up with a cold and sore throat.

The push and pull between you is like the waves washing up the shore. There has to be a breaking point when it spills over. It happens in Leehan’s room when he finally shows you his fish family in person after chatting your ears off about them. The tank is bigger than you expected and it’s really nicely decorated, it’s clear that the boy put a lot of effort into it and you appreciate all the details. You’re too busy watching in awe as the tetras and shrimps swim around to notice the boy on the other side of the water wall until you catch his eyes on you. You blink in surprise and think that it’s unfair how handsome he looks even through two layers of glass and filtered water. Bashful, you straighten up at once and Leehan does the same on the other side.

“Was it like this? In the movie?” He asks, curiosity coloring his deep voice and your breath hitches because he remembers! It was something small you mentioned to him the second time you met and yet, he didn’t forget.

“Something like this,” you nod, still bewildered and breathing shallowly as the boy edges closer, leaning over the fish tank.

“What happens after?” Leehan’s voice is barely above a whisper as his gaze searches your face. Your fingers tremble, so you press them against the countertop for balance.

“Why do I have a feeling that you know?” You lower your voice too as if it was a secret and the thought of him looking up the movie just because you told him about it makes you feel mushy inside.

Leehan giggles and it's music to your ears, a beautiful sound. 

Your eyes flutter closed when his lips graze against yours. It’s chaste and clumsy but his kiss tastes sweet like cherry lip balm and summer. You never want to forget this feeling.

What starts with a kiss between four walls ends up spilling all over the pages of your summer. It’s in the way you share looks and secret smiles over your grandmother’s shoulder, the way he holds your hand as you walk down the beach or the way every accidental touch sets your skin on fire. The way you talk on the phone until late on days when you can’t meet or how he notices the faintest burn mark on your fingertip from cooking and presses a kiss on it to ‘help it heal’. It's shared packs of gummies, sea-washed hearts drawn into sand, blush on cheeks and a secret held close to your heart. You still don’t talk about the future, about what it means even though you know you should. You should tell Leehan that it’s bound to end in heartbreak because you will leave eventually but for once you let yourself be selfish and pretend that you have all the time in the world. Or at least pretend that you have him.

It’s been almost two months since you have been in Busan and you have felt better than ever. No pressure on your chest anymore when you wake up, no breaking out in sweat when you see the calendar counting down days, no lack of motivation to go outside. However, one thing is enough to crash it all down. One simple thing.

You stare at your ringing, buzzing phone as if you could will it to stop just by looking at it hard enough. Your mother’s name on the screen is enough to make your stomach twist uncomfortably and you bite into your inside cheek so hard you taste iron as you swipe the call towards the green direction.

“Y/N,” your mother calls your name like a greeting. You hold your breath back, wondering if she will tell you that they missed you since you haven’t talked with them since you have left but you should have known not to get your hopes up.

“Did you decide on the next semester?” She asks, straight to the point as if that’s the only thing they care about. Maybe it is.

“No,” you mumble and you want to make yourself smaller when you hear your mother’s disappointed sigh. It’s bringing back ugly memories. The realization that their love is conditional hits you hard again.

“When are you coming back then? It’s been enough of a vacation already,” she says dismissively and you know too well that she doesn’t ask because she wants you back out of caring but because then she would have more leverage over you.

“I’m staying for the rest of summer,” you force yourself to remind her because no matter how guilty and ungrateful she makes you feel, you remember how hard it was to leave, to go against her in the first place, so you don’t want to go back, not until you are sure she cannot emotionally manipulate you into doing something you don’t want.

“What a waste of time. You should at least sign up for a language course–”

“I have to go. Sorry,” you hang up the call and only when you drop the phone onto the bed���s mattress you realize that you’re trembling. It’s when the tears are starting to sting your eyes. Your phone rings again, your mother’s contact haunting you like a ghost, so you switch the phone off entirely. You refuse to cry but the ugly sobs bubble up nevertheless and it’s all coming back.

It’s day three of shutting yourself in your room and not talking with everybody. You feel useless and stuck, just like the disappointment your mother thinks you are. When there’s a knock on your door, you think it’s your grandmother coming for the breakfast tray, so unsuspecting, you open it. You immediately wish you didn’t because in front of you stands Leehan with worry clear on his face. Or is it pity? In this mindset, it’s hard to tell.

“Your grandmother let me in. I couldn’t reach you,” The boy rushes to speak up, his voice stained with something heavy. “Are you… What’s wrong?” He corrects himself probably realizing that asking if you are okay would be a stupid question when you clearly aren’t.

“You should leave,” you croak out, your voice hoarse from disuse.

“Y/N, don’t,” Leehan pleads with sad eyes that beg to don’t push me away, don’t shut me out but you’re too used to dealing with things alone. “You don’t have to tell me but let me be here for you.”

It’s the gentleness in his request that makes you stall. He doesn’t force you to do anything, he just asks like he wants to be there. Like he doesn’t care that you look shitty and ignored him for days. You don’t deserve his kindness.

“Let me shower first,” you look away before opening your door wider to your curtained and stuffy room.

You open the window and grab some homey clothes from the gardrobe because you don’t want to stay in your pajamas next to the boy. Then you close yourself inside the bathroom, taking a too cold shower but by the end of it you actually feel a bit more like yourself. You walk back to your room in the new, clean clothes and wet hair, not ready to look Leehan in the eye, so you’re relieved when he doesn’t make you do that either. He just gently takes the towel from your hands and sits down behind you on the bed, massaging the soft material into your head. You let out a little choked up sound at the feeling of being cared for. You close your eyes to will yourself not to cry and Leehan doesn’t say anything, he just keeps drying your hair gently.

“My mother called,” you speak up after what feels like forever and yet not long enough. The boy hums quietly, showing that he’s listening but he lets you go on at your own pace. So you tell him about the pressure to do well at the CSAT exams and to get into a SKY uni, about falling out with your best friend because of competitive studying, about starting to hate it and how it ruined your relationship with your parents.

You speak and Leehan listens, then when there are no words and your heart feels like an empty shell, he holds you close. It feels like he holds all your broken, ugly pieces together.

It doesn’t happen from one day to another but things get better. You get better again. It’s the kind of progress that you have to do yourself but having your supportive grandparents and Leehan by your side definitely helps.

The boy comes over often in the beginning because you don’t yet feel like going out and being seen by people. Your grandfather mentions something about keeping your door open at all times but after realizing that all you do is watching documentaries on your laptop, reading books with your head in Leehan’s lap while he is on his phone or braiding each others’ hair, he doesn’t say anything anymore.

It takes a while to gather courage to tell everything to your grandparents too because it’s one thing opening up to Leehan but it’s about their daughter and you’re afraid that despite letting you stay here and not caring much about your education, they would take your mother’s side. Luckily, they understand.

“You could stay, you know. Your grandfather and I would be happy to have you here,” your granny reassures you with a hand on yours, soothing.

“It’s not that simple,” you let out a quiet sob because which ungrateful child doesn’t do what their parents want after the fortune they had spent on her education? It’s just university, you can bear it for a few years, says the little voice in your head, even if you hate it, even if your perfectionist tendencies will ruin the experience for you.

“It can be that simple. I will talk with your mother,” your grandpa exclaims and you know he would do so if you don’t stop him.

“Please don’t. It’s something I have to do myself,” you say because you can’t let others fight your battles for you, because it’s a step you need to take for the freedom you crave.

It’s scary still, preparing to tell your parents something you know they won’t like nor will they hesitate to try and change your mind. 

Leehan squeezes your hand before leaving you alone to make the phone call. He doesn’t go far, you know that the farthest is the kitchen where your grandma will convince him to taste her cooking. You pace around in the room, giving yourself a pep talk, rehearsing your prepared speech a few times before hitting the call button.

It takes three rings for your mother to answer. Her voice is leveled and disinterested when she asks how you are. She doesn’t care, she only cares about what people will say about her if their A+ student daughter won’t go to university. But you won’t take her burdens on your shoulders anymore.

“I decided. I won’t start uni next semester. In fact, I will drop out,” you blurt out as quickly as possible, like ripping off a bandaid. You don’t let your voice waver no matter how nervous you feel. “Maybe one day I will attend a university but if I do, I will study something I would like to, something I'm actually interested in, not business,” you continue before your mother could interrupt you. “Thank you for supporting me through school but I’m old enough now to make my decisions, so I would rather pay you back for all that.”

Your parents are stunned to say the least. There comes a nicely wrapped threat about ‘their house, their rules’ but when that doesn’t work, they try to negotiate. They tell you that you will regret it, to think of all your wasted efforts and how lucky you are, then they want to talk in person. You say it wouldn’t change anything and telling them actually feels like a huge rock being lifted off your chest and you can finally breathe.

It becomes easier after that. The countdown stops and you can sleep properly. Summer ends and you start packing your bag. Going back to Seoul doesn’t seem so scary anymore.

You ask Leehan to meet you at the beach, your usual place, because he deserves to know. He brings fruits and jellies, an entire picnic. Your heart aches because he doesn’t know it’s goodbye. Or maybe he has a feeling since he has always had good intuitions and because this idyll was never meant to last longer than summer.

You eat and you talk while watching the waves and the clouds chase each other. Leehan tells you about the classes he has in the upcoming semester and his fish family updates. You tell him the latest anecdote about your grandparents because the atmosphere is too good to bring up you leaving so soon.

You watch the sunset together with his head on your thigh and your fingers raking through his soft hair, grazing across his reddened ears and the earring he wears. He’s illuminated by the oranges and goldens of the dying Sun and your heart shatters at the sight. He is so beautiful and you want to remember this moment forever.

When darkness settles, you take out sparklers, set them in the sand and cuddle until the last speck of light burns out, until you can see the constellations you cannot name clearly in the night sky.

“I go back to Seoul next week,” you whisper as you lie on the picnic blanket and watch the stars together. Leehan doesn’t say anything immediately and you don’t dare to turn to him. Not before you tell him why. “We will go to family therapy. It was mom’s idea but maybe it will do us good. I owe them at least this. They are trying.”

They might not be the best parents but you know that they mean well in their own way even if it’s not something you want. It’s already a big thing that they also realized that you need help to mend family ties. But that’s not the only reason why you’re leaving.

“I also need to figure out what I want to do for myself and not for others,” you admit in a small voice, barely audible.

You spent your teens working towards a goal your parents set for you and it made you miserable. You’re afraid of it happening again and that’s why you can’t stay in Busan no matter how at home you feel here. Because you know this is what your grandparents would want, because Leehan is here and it scares you that one day you will blame them for staying because you are too weak to make your own choices. So you need to decide on your own. You need to be sure you aren’t just running away from your problems.

Moments pass and the boy’s silence is unnerving. You wonder if he’s angry or if he’s sad. If anybody, you would think he understands but you cannot be sure and it’s killing you. When you turn to him, he moves too and suddenly you’re paper thin distance apart. When he pulls you against his chest, you can feel the rapid rhythm of his heart. When he speaks up, his melodic voice is shaky with unsaid emotions.

“I hope you can find what makes you happy,” he says as he strokes your back gently and it’s an i will miss you, i get it, i wish you the best all in one and tears pool up in your eyes, feeling touched and understood. You nuzzle closer, taking a deep breath full of Leehan’s signature scent of sea salt and sand and something sweet.

“I will miss you,” you whisper under the stars and they witness it as the closest thing you can manage to the confession you can’t say out loud. But it’s in your heartbeat and all your memories.

You and Leehan had all summer and it was golden. It was love even if you never said it out loud.

3 MONTHS LATER

Winter in Busan is kinder. It’s still cutting cold but not unforgiving like in Seoul. It's a roasted sweet potato smell and a stranger helping you with your big suitcase as you get off the train. One of the stores plays Christmas music while you are checking your phone to see if your driver has already arrived.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice calls for you and a smile blooms on your face, whipping your head towards the source of it. There he is in all his beauty, a fluffy scarf around his neck, a beanie on top of his head and his nose red.

You want to rush up to him but your suitcase is heavy and its wheel gets trapped in something, so you manage to trip and lose your balance. Luckily, Leehan is there to catch you and it’s déja vu, a reminder from the summer when you held onto him, another beginning.

“Careful,” the boy warns you with a chuckle as he lets go and looks down at you with a tender smile. You mimic his reaction, your heart getting wild in your chest that you finally see him again. “You are smiling. It’s pretty,” Leehan says in awe and you beam at him wider.

“I’m happy,” you tell him, honestly because he’s part of the reason why.

A lot has happened in the last three months since you left Busan. Family therapy wasn’t a piece of cake because admitting mistakes wasn’t your parents’ forte but it did help to salvage your relationship as a family. They stopped pushing you to choose a higher education and let you make your decisions yourself. First of those was to start tutoring high schoolers who wanted to get into a SKY university like you did. Even though you didn’t actually attend one, the admission letter was proof enough for many people and you realized you liked helping others. You also developed a teaching style that’s more compliment and reward-based than the strict hakwon style. Out of all subjects, you enjoyed teaching English the most, so when you not so accidentally came across an opening position in a language center in Busan, you applied right away.

The truth is you missed Busan. The freedom, the independence, the happiness you found here. And you missed your grandparents and Leehan the most. This time it’s not just a hideout where you come running away from your issues. This time, you come because you want to be here. It’s a home to return to.

Leehan takes your suitcase from you and walks you to the parking lot to his dad’s car. He got his license this fall for which you cheered him on all the way via texts the same way as he supported your teaching journey. You listen to the cheerful songs on the radio as he drives you to your grandparents’ house while talking about the train ride as if you haven’t been texting throughout it. It’s almost like nothing changed and yet, everything did.

“Leehan-ah,” your grandmother coos when you arrive, welcoming the boy with a warm hug.

“Hey,” you pout pseudo-sulky because shouldn’t she greet you first? Her one and only granddaughter? She should take notes from your grandpa.

“Don’t be jealous, sweetheart,” your grandma singsongs before wrapping you in her embrace too, all warm and loving. Immediately after she starts listing down your favorites that she has been cooking since morning but you shush her because you should at least pack your stuff in your room. Leehan offers to help with your luggage and the two of you go up the stairs while you hear your grandparents ‘whisper’ about when to bring out the cake. It makes you chuckle. It makes you happy.

“Actually, I bought you something, too,” Leehan speaks up, his ears as red as his nose but you aren’t sure it’s from the cold outside.

“Oh, what is it?” You ask, surprised but curious and when he nods towards your room’s door. You give him a quizzical look before pushing down the handle.

At first nothing stands out, it’s almost like how you left it months ago but then in a flash of gold you notice one striking difference. There it is, unmistakable, a fish bowl with a single goldfish and some rocks and coral decoration in it on your desk.

“It’s not exactly a fish tank you must have wanted but it’s better to start small,” Leehan explains with a smile in the corner of his mouth and you realize once again just how much he sees and understands you, he always has.

“Thank you! I love it so much!” You exclaim, throwing your arms around the boy, giggling into his chest.

You fussing over your new pet fish is interrupted by your grandma inviting you down for lunch and suddenly it’s like nothing has changed since summer. Leehan is welcomed at your table as if it’s the most natural thing and your grandpa is still teasing your grandma about making way too much food. They keep asking you about your job too as if you knew anything more than what you told them on the phone.

After lunch, you help clean the table while your grandpa keeps Leehan busy by asking him about something he saw on the internet. When your grandma sees you stealing glances, she nudges you in the side and tells you to walk him out with a knowing look which makes you roll your eyes as if you didn’t yearn for more alone time with the boy.

So here you are right at the gate, knowing full well that your grandparents are watching through the window, fidgeting with your scarf, not knowing how to say goodbye even though you will probably see him tomorrow after work. Eventually it’s Leehan who speaks up.

“Y/N,” he calls your name and it sounds so sweet from his mouth, you feel degrees warmer in the cold of winter.

“Hm?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to call your name. I still can’t believe you’re here,” the boy chuckles sheepishly and you realize it’s not only you who’s nervous. But maybe there’s no reason to. Now you know what you want.

“I’m here and I’m staying,” you promise and when Leehan smiles, the mole on his left cheek moves upwards and you tiptoe to peck him right on it. He has a hand on your arm as you descend down flat to your feet and his gaze is stuck on you. You’re mesmerized as you watch all his moles and acne spots and his boyish beauty that makes your heart flutter. You stand so close that you can see the snowflakes melting over his eyelashes and that’s when you notice it.

“Oh, look, it’s snowing!” You squeal with childlike wonder as you look up at the sky and try to catch the floating snowflakes on your palm.

Leehan hums quietly but his voice is playful when he asks:

“Do you know what they say about the first snow?”

You blink at his sudden question, cheeks growing pink and hot as the boy leans closer.

“You’re as smooth as ever,” you mumble, shy, because of course you know the saying about couples’ love being long-lasting if they witness the first snow together.

Your first kiss tasted sweet like cherry jellies but this one tastes like forever locked in a touch. You had the summer together but now you have all the seasons ahead of you and you can’t wait to walk them through together with Leehan.

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

I was wondering if you can please write fanfic. Where the reader is a mother of young twins who is fiercely protective of them because one of them is completely colorblind and the other one is going deaf and nobody on the team knows of their existence.

So one day her babysitter can’t work or something do whatever you like at this part, but basically, the NCIS team finds out about the twins and her fierceness protectiveness and Leroy Jethro is like ok I’m kinda in love with you to you’re officially Mrs. Gibbs five and have fun with it.

Do whatever you like with this and I hope you enjoy writing it. I hope you have a wonderful year a wonderful month in your writing is amazing and I appreciate you.

Fierce Love

Leroy Jethro Gibbs X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: Flashbacks, Mentions of SA, Kidnapping, Mild Language, Violence, Guns, Blood, Suggestive, Angst, Fluff, etc.

Prompt: You are a mother of young twins, one who is colorblind and the other who is going deaf. The team doesn’t know of their existence until something happens to the babysitter who so happens to be your goddaughter. The team finds that you are fiercely protective and fiercely in love with your kids. But, this stands out more to Gibbs because he’s been trying to figure out for

Sidenotes: I used a scene from “The Rookie”, not to the exact measures, but similar.

You look down at the twins you held, your eyes instantly teary as you looked at the two bundles that saved you. They were perfect with their ten fingers, their ten toes, their tiny noses, their tiny lips and their healthy selves.

Adeline Iridessa Y/L/N, you sweet baby girl who was younger by a few minutes. Then her older brother by only minutes, Alexander Archer Y/L/N.

"Mommy will always protect you." You whisper softly.

"Ms. Y/L/N, I'm afraid to tell you that Adeline is colorblind. Alexander is rapidly losing hearing and we fear he may be deaf." Dr. Bryant explains.

You were silent for a moment, trying to soak in this information. You look at the twins for a moment before turning back to him.

"Is there anything we can do to try and preserve and maybe even salvage what hearing Alex has?" You ask.

"We could try some tubes, however I fear that his case is too severe. Here are some pamphlets. This will help Alexander if he needs to learn sign language. It's always good starting them off at a young age anyway. They tend to retain the language better and he will be better. You may want to also have Adeline learn the language for her brother as well." He explains.

You nod, looking at the twins who were wide awake, looking around curiously. Your heart aches knowing that Adeline will never get to see such beautiful colors because she has achromatopsia color blindness and then Alexander will eventually lose his hearing altogether.

4 YEARS LATER

You were sitting at your bullpen, trying to figure out how to make their 5th birthday party the best birthday ever for them. You know you probably spoiled them too much, but they were your babies and you'd be damned if you ever let something happen to them.

The thought of sending them to school was agonizing. Knowing that they were getting older was scary. These were your babies and the thought of anything happening to them sent you into a protective mode instantly.

"Alright, what do we have?" Gibbs asks, coming back from getting coffee.

Tony, Ziva and Tim immediately are up and fighting to tell their finds. However, Gibbs was focused on you who seem distracted on something.

Gibbs was able to read everyone. However, after four years of working for him, he still was trying to figure you out. Almost everything about your file was confidential. He was so brutal on you when you first came here, however he has gotten better over time.

The elevator doors open and everyone turns back. You stand slowly as you see your twins exit the elevator hand in hand with your neighbor following behind them.

"Mommy!" Adeline squeals, running to you and hugging you.

You squat down, hugging her and Alexander. You gently push them back and look to Alexander, signing, "What's wrong baby boy?" 

He looked pale and like he wasn't feeling the greatest. Which was strange because before you left this morning, you made sure to make sure both were tucked in and weren't running fevers.

He sighs, signing, "Just worried and tired." You frown, gently guiding them both behind your desk, lifting them both into your chair before your neighbor walks to you.

"Y/N/N, Lexi answered the door this morning and their was a man there who was claiming to be the twins' father. The twins followed your "game" as Adeline put it if a stranger shows up. Lexi was taken by that man. And I came over here as fast I could." She explains.

You let a slow breath out as your heart rate picks up. Lexi was a good girl. She was your older sisters daughter. Lexi made you realize how much you wanted kids of your own. Lexi was like a daughter to you. You look at the twins, knowing that Lexi would do anything for them—just like you—which is probably how she ended up in this situation to begin with.

"Thank you, Bebe. You did the right thing." You say.

"Do you want me to take the twins so that you can work and get Lexi back?" She asks.

"No, no, it's alright. I think I'd feel better knowing they are with me. Thank you, Bebe. I'd say yes if I felt safe about it, but their father is...a very unpredictable man. I don't want to put you or the twins in danger." You explain.

It made you feel guilty, like you didn't trust Bebe, but thankfully she understood where you were coming from. She gave you a big hug, promising that everything would be okay and that Lexi was a tough girl. You knew Lexi was tough. You also knew Lexi would have left clues for you. She leaves and you turn to your team who was watching.

"You have kids?" Tony asks surprised.

"Yes." You say a bit more defensively than you expected, moving in front of the twins.

"Hey, easy there mama bear. I'm just surprised. You have no pictures and you've never mentioned them." He says, putting his hands up in surrender.

You clench your jaw, choosing to keep silent. These were your babies. You know your team wouldn't do anything to them. You knew that they'd protect them just as fiercely as you. However, your protective side was running wild knowing their father was after them and knowing he had Lexi.

Gibbs was staring at you, a small smirk on his lips. He could finally read you and put every piece to the puzzle together about you. It was like you were an open book right now.

I'm so in love with her, he thinks to himself.

"That's a pretty dress you have on sweetie. Is pink your favorite color?" Ziva asks and your heart clenches.

"Adeline can't see colors. She has achromatopsia color blindness. Alexander is deaf...he lost all of his hearing by the time he was one. He knows sign language though. So does Adeline. He can also read lips very well. Both of them can. Even though Adeline can talk, sign language and reading lips is a second nature to her." You explain.

You didn't realize you were nervously rambling, but the team did and smiled softly. They understood the normal moms fierce love for their child, however yours was far fiercer and far more protective. And it wasn't because you were an NCIS agent. It was because both of your babies were special.

"Mommy says pink is my color. And I trust mommy." Adeline says, smiling at Ziva who grins.

"Well, your mommy is very much right. Pink is definitely your color." She says.

"Alex, Addy...this is mommy's friends. That's Ziva, this is Tim and that's Tony. That's mommy's boss, Gibbs." You say, pointing to each of them.

Adeline was in a full conversation with Tony, Tim and Ziva. Alexander was looking at Gibbs who crouches down to his height and signs, "Are you okay?"

Alexander smiles and you look down, a light blush on your cheeks. You always had what Abby liked to call a "school-girl crush" on Gibbs. The elevator doors open and you look over to see Abby skipping towards you.

"Oh my goodness! They are so cute!" She exclaims.

"Mommy, who is that?" Adeline asks while looking at you.

"Mommy?" Abby asks, looking at you with wide eyes.

"Y/N is a mom, Abby. She's just been trying to keep them safe from their father." Gibbs explains before going back to signing with Alexander.

"What? You didn't trust us?" Abby asks.

"Abs, that isn't the case...their father is a terrible man. I thought he was still in prison. But, he isn't and he has my goddaughter who babysits for me...and because he is out, he was trying to get the twins. I just was scared that mostly you would get attached and what if I had to up and leave one day with the twins? I knew staying in one place meant he'd find me. I just..." You trail off and sit down as you bury your head in your hands.

"You have made a family. It explains why you were so distant. How did you and the father meet?" Tim asks.

"I was kidnapped by him when I was undercover. I'm sure you can put the pieces together." You mumble.

"Y/N/N." Abby whispers with watery eyes.

"It's fine. I don't dwell on the past. Not to mention, I've got these two who saved me." You murmur, lifting your head to look at your twins.

The team shared pitiful smiles, never realizing what you have gone through. You let a shaky breath out, moving your hands to your knees.

"They know sign language?" Abby asks while looking at Alexander.

"Alexander is deaf. He can read lips and sign, and Adeline can too. I made her learn too for him. Adeline has achromatopsia color blindness." You explain.

"Okay. Y/N, would you be okay with Abby taking them so that we can get your goddaughter back? And so I can personally speak with the bastard?" Gibbs asks.

"Y-Yeah, of course. Abby...I...I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I...I probably—." You start until she covers your mouth.

"Don't apologize. I understand and I'm not mad. However, I'm making them call me Aunt Abby." She says and you laugh.

"Alright. I mean I've talked about all of you guys to them and that's kind of how I've labeled you. Personally, I think you should be their godmother but if you want to be Aunt Abby, well I guess I'll have to find a different godmother." You say casually as you shrug with a smile and she gasps before squealing and hugging you.

"I want to be the godmother!" She exclaims.

You chuckle and stand before you tap your foot three times pretty hard on the ground. Alexander turns to you, feeling the vibrations on the ground.

"Come here." You sign and he walks over to you.

You kneel and gently grasp Adeline's elbow and she looks at you before moving to stand by Alexander.

"I want you guys to meet someone else. This is your godmother and one of mommy's other friends." You say and sign.

"Okay mommy, who is it?" Adeline asks.

You point to Abby and they both turn. Abby kneels and starts to sign to them which you couldn't help, but smile at Alexander's excitement. He really struggled because it wasn't like everyone knew sign language.

You turn and see a hand outstretched in front of you. It was Gibbs. You take it and he helps you up. You turn to look at the twins who seemed to be in awe. You focus on Abby's hands and notice she is telling them about her lab. You laugh quietly. Both of your twins were in love with anything to do with science so you knew they'd be just fine with Abby.

Abby looks at you and grins before she takes their hands and goes to lead them to the elevator. You find yourself having an internal battle, wanting to go with them, but you managed to keep yourself rooted to where you stood. You feel a hand on your hip and turn to see Gibbs.

"They are with Abby. They are safe." He mumbles.

You nod, knowing he was right and he pats your hip twice as Tony excitedly announces since it's your case, your lead.

"We should start at my house. Lexi is a smart girl and she would've left clues. I know her. And knowing that man, he probably searched the house for the twins. But, Lexi told them to play that game when a stranger comes over. It's basically a game to them, but it's something I've done in case someone tries to get to the twins. They have a hiding spot. Lexi and I are the only ones aware of that spot." You explain.

"It's good you had that in place." Ziva says as you all head to the elevator.

"I know I probably seem like an overbearing mom and that I'm really overprotective, it's just...I worry. And Alexander can't hear what's going on and I know Adeline will talk to anyone and everyone because she doesn't understand the dangers of talking to strangers. She thinks I'm mean for saying we can't talk to people we don't know." You explain.

"Y/N, we aren't judging you. Your an amazing mother. You have no need to worry." Gibbs says softly.

You look at him for a moment and nod. You go with Gibbs to the car as the other three go to the van. You felt extremely stressed and nervous so when traffic hit, it was even more stressful.

"They arrived at the house. I'd try to get us out but we are blocked in." Gibbs says.

You sigh, running a shaky hand through your hair. He studies you for a moment before putting a hand on your thigh. You look at him and he smiles slightly.

"We will get her back." He says.

It was silent, his hand on your thigh and your brain was now running about your "school-girl crush" on him.

"Gibbs, I need to tell you something." You admit.

"I know." He says softly, grinning.

"You know?" You ask confused.

"I know." He says, the both of you looking at each other.

"Then what was I going to say?" You ask.

"That you like me." He says and your cheeks flush.

"Was it really that obvious?" You ask quietly and he chuckles.

"Trust me, I only know because I was looking for the same signs." He says, looking ahead.

"Wait, you like me too?" You ask.

"Mhm. After we wrap up this case and the other one we are working on, I'd like to have you over for dinner." He says.

"I'd like that a lot." You say softly, your cheeks flushing red.

"Alright, we got prints but that's all." Tony says once you arrive.

You walk into the house and look at the end table and grab the notepad.

"License plate." You say and Tony grabs it, looking at it confused.

"She etched it in?" He asks.

"You do what you have to do. Plus he would've saw it and I'm sure we would have found her already, just not the way we wanted." You say, doing your own investigation.

"Name." Gibbs says, grabbing a candy wrapped off the ground.

"She probably didn't think Bebe would've witnessed it all." You murmur as you knew who it was.

"What's this?" Tim asks.

You walk into the living room again and see the TV was glitching and you laugh. Soon Lexi's face was on the TV.

"Oh thank god. I knew you'd be there." She says.

"We are coming for you Lex." You say.

"The twins, are they alright?" She asks.

"Yes, they are. Are you okay?" You ask.

"A little roughed up, but you should see him." She says with a grin and you smile slightly.

"Just be careful. If he loses his temper, it will be bad. Don't antagonize. Just comply with whatever he says. I'm hurrying. Do you know where your at?" You ask.

"I kind of stole his phone and I'm using it to somehow hack into your router so that I can display this. I'm in the back of a truck. It's a semi-truck. It's been moving ever since he left. I don't know where he is taking me." She says.

"Did he say anything to you?" You ask.

"He's rambling. It's like he's having some psychosis episode." She says.

"He might've mentioned where he's bringing you though, Lexi. Think." Gibbs says.

"He said something about a desert and a cabin. He also said he was going to tattoo my date of death on me. That's what that tattoo on your thigh is, isn't it?" She asks.

"Yeah. He's taking you back to where everything happened with me. Okay. Listen to me. If I don't get there before he does the tattoo and the barrel, don't panic. Slow breaths. It will give us more time to find you." You say seriously.

"Barrel? What the hell did he do to you? And is he actually the twins' father? Were you guys dating or something?" She asks.

"He's a sociopath, Lexi. I was really hoping he'd do some ransom thing but clearly he is still just as delusional as he use to be." You say.

"Oh shit. I've got to go." She says and the video cuts out.

"I think we need to review your case." Gibbs says.

"He kidnapped me. He proceeded to SA me. Lexi is safe there. He happens to like (your hair color). She's (her hair color). However he doesn't like (her hair color). That was who we were finding in the barrels. Well, then he tattooed the day he thought I was going to die, but little did he know I had a whole team ready to bring me home. So, I wasn't in the barrel long. A few hours, but that's it." You explain.

Gibbs and you run in from the front, Tony and Ziva going in through the back with Tim following not long behind him.

"Zayn, where is she?" You ask, your gun on him.

"I want my kids. Give me my kids." He snaps.

"They aren't your kids. You'll never be a father to them. They are my kids and I'd be damned if you ever try to get near them again because if you try, I'll shoot you." You say lowly, further pressing the gun against his temple to get the point across.

"And they say I'm crazy." He laughs.

"She isn't crazy. She's a mother and a mothers love for their children is such a crazy thing because a mother would do anything for their child. She's fiercely in love with those kids and she will fiercely protect them, no matter what." Gibbs says, hooking his arm around your waist and pulling you back.

Tony arrests him and you step out of Gibbs' hold and head outside. You knew he wouldn't have put her close to the cabin. He would have gone a bit further out. But, it would be close enough to his property so he could see it. You get to the edge of the hill and look over it before something sparkles in the sun. You start hurrying down the hill as Gibbs yells for you to wait.

You kneel and grab it. It was her ring. You shove it in your pocket before digging around, pushing the sand away when you see the top of the barrel. You start to lift the lid and toss it to the side.

"Y-Y/N?" She whispers.

"Oh baby. It's okay. I'm here. I promised I would be here." You murmur as your team joins you.

Tony helps get her out of the barrel and you sit next to her. She leans her head against your chest before breaking into tears. You shush her softly, petting her hair.

"He told me what he did to you. He told me everything. Why did you lie to us? You went through all of that alone and had no help. And we were so hard on you because we thought you should've worked it out. We didn't know he did those things." She sobs.

"Lexi, shhh...I didn't say anything because I didn't want to be treated any different. Your okay and I'm okay. I didn't take anything you guys said to heart because I knew you guys didn't know." You explain softly.

"What do you think of my tattoo?" She says, trying to smile and you look at her leg.

"I think you've got one hell of a story to tell. Don't look at it and think of this. Think of it as surviving. Because you did survive something horrific." You said.

"I don't even feel scared. I never felt scared once because I knew you'd find me. I did what you said to. Slow breaths. Because I knew you'd find me. I don't even care about that tattoo. This should bother me more than it is, but it isn't." She says.

"You could be in shock." Tim says.

"No. Not in shock. Right, look at my pupils." She says.

"She's right. She isn't in shock. She use to be a nurse." You explain.

"Your a strong girl. And you know your aunt well. You knew she'd find you. You are very brave after today." Gibbs says.

"Can you walk?" You ask.

"I'm not going to lie, I think I sprained my ankle." She says.

"How did you do that?" You ask confused.

"I full on round house kicked him, but then I screwed up my footing. I sooooo could've got away if I didn't screw that up. It so reminded me of this movie. I felt like a total badass too. Then I ruined it." She says and you couldn't help, but laugh.

"Well come on. I'll carry you up." You say.

"What? You can't do that." She says.

"Piggy back ride? I think I can." You say.

After getting situated, you start up the hill with your team. You had Tony and Gibbs on either side of you, in case you lose your footing. Lexi was babbling on with Tim about some game.

You move off of Gibbs, laying your head on his bare chest as you move the sheets up to cover your bare body.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you. It has been a little of six months since it had became official between you both. He stayed over at your house almost every day. You had been over to his house a few times, but you didn't like being away from the twins for long.

He noticed that and quickly made sure to make it your house that you guys went to most of the time. He found himself thinking about how you use to be so eager to get home and frustrated when you couldn't leave yet because of a case and yet, now he knew why you were so eager to get home. You had two wonderful kids that you adored fiercely and he found himself loving them just as you do.

"Okay, I've realized something." He murmurs.

"And what is that?" You ask softly, tracing random patterns on his chest.

"I'm so in love with you and I think it's time you become Mrs. Gibbs number five. Okay, you may end up Mrs. Gibbs number five, however I want you to be the last Mrs. Gibbs." He says.

"Wait...are you...purposing?" You ask, sitting up on your elbow to look at him.

"Not yet...I want to purpose the way you deserve it. But, what do you think?" He asks.

"I...I've honestly been wondering when your going to ask the damn question." You admit as you laugh softly and he joins you.

"Soon." He promises.

"I know you ain't crazy about the whole idea of getting married in front of people unless it's a judge, but if this is gonna be the only time I get married, I want the whole experience." You say and he chuckles.

"Then we better give you the experience because this is the only time you'll be getting married." He says and you laugh.

"Mrs. Y/N Gibbs...I like the sound of that." You murmur.

"Hm...me too. What about Adeline Gibbs and Alexander Gibbs?" He suggests and you cover your mouth as your eyes water.

"Y-You'd really want that?" You ask softly.

"Of course. I love them like they are my own. They are my kids." He says, his own eyes watering and you grin.

"I'd love that. And what about Luna Shannon Gibbs and Leroy Jethro-Arlo Gibbs?" You ask and he shoots up, looking down at you confused.

"Why are you trying to change the twins' names?" He asks.

"Well...actually. I'm not." You say softly.

It was quiet as he looked down at you with a confused look. You waited, smiling softly as you knew he was about to figure it out.

"Your pregnant...with twins?" He asks.

"Mhm." You hum.

"Wow...this is...amazing. For Luna...can we do Luna-Kate Shannon Gibbs?" He asks.

"Of course. I love that. Kate would be honored." You murmur.

"I miss her still. It's been almost what three or four years and I still miss her." He admits.

"I miss her too, Jethro. She was a good women, but she died doing what she loved most. She'll forever be remembered." You murmur, sitting up with the blankets wrapped tightly around your front.

He smiles, nodding in agreement.

"Mommy! Mommy! It's time to get up! It's our first day of school!" Adeline exclaims.

"Can we just keep them home forever?" You ask and he chuckles as he gets up to get dressed.

"No, we can't. Come on. You go shower real quick and I'll start breakfast. Then we will switch so that you finish it and I shower. Hopefully, we can all eat together and then we will take them to school and we will go work." He says.

You nod, sighing as you stand. You left the blankets on the bed and you look over at him to see his eyes on the tattoo from the unsub. You frown, covering it with your hand as you hurry to the bathroom and close the door. You heard him sigh and curse, but you needed a moment.

You were kind of sad that it was the twins' first day. You made sure to get plenty of pictures and now it was silent between Jethro and you on your guys' way to work.

"Baby?" He says.

"Hm?" You hum.

You were a little surprised he called you that. He typically only does when he's deep in thought or scared shitless. So, you clue it that he was deep in thought.

"I didn't mean to make you upset this morning." He admits.

"I wasn't upset." You say.

"You covered it and ran off to the bathroom like a dog with its tail between its legs." He deadpans.

"I wasn't upset though. I just...I wouldn't even say self-conscious. However, I know when you look at it, your putting every piece of what happened to me, together. You know what that date means. Anyone else will look at it and assume it's for someone or it's some joke. But, it's the day I was supposed to die. Plus, it kind of springs up memories on me. I need to get it removed, but I don't for the time for it and I don't want to be asked about it either." You admit.

"Baby, when I look at that...it just makes me realize what you've been through and how strong you are. You are a fighter and I love how strong and how brave and how fierce you are." He say and you smile slightly.

"I love you." You murmur.

"I love you too, hon." He says, grabbing your hand.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part two —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 4k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: let me establish some things/characters/relationships ya know.

You dream of that house in Norbury. The one you grew up in. Your mother calls you for lunch. You are caked in dirt, fingers just leaving the soil where they’d searched for bugs and worms. Your sister watches in disgust but now she is pulling your arm.

You follow her, bare feet padding the wood floors. The lunch is on the table - pine needles on a porcelain plate. An empty glass which should be filled with juice. Your stomach howls. You look up to ask your mother for something else.

Right before your eyes, she melts into something grey. Maggots bleed from the corners of her eyes. The irises turn white, staring down at you with hunger even stronger than your own.

“Mom?”

Across the table, your sister melts away, too. Her body is mangled to the point that it tumbles to the kitchen floor.

You wake up just as your mother’s decomposed hands grab your shoulders and her mouth finds the crook of your neck.

Your eyes peel open to find darkness.

Not the house in Norbury, just a sheet of black that covers the cold forest. This has become your new home, and likely, your soon-tomb.

You wipe your eyes.

You lean back against the tree which you have managed to hoist yourself in. Sleep finds you again, but this time, the nightmare arrives when you wake up, once more in the form of a rotten smell and hissed groans.

These ones are real.

By the time you awake at dawn, your joints ache. You barely remember how you got up here, or how you got back up after the man and his daughter left. You sat there next to the broken bow for minutes, hours. Then, something moved you. The last piece of your humanness. It stood you up, forced you to find some pine needles to swallow down since meat was now out of the question, and brought you to this tree branch before the night settled.

The sunrise over the white forest is pretty, you think.

But you hear something. Smell something.

You look down and what your eyes find beneath the tree branch is not pretty in the slightest.

"Are you serious?" your numb lips whisper, now fully awake.

Only a few meters below you stand three Greys.

They must have wandered near the tree during the night, catching a waft of your smell from up above. Their tattered heads are tipped back, pale eyes pointed at you. Mindlessly, their arms squabble up towards the branch. But it's too high for them to reach. One of them, once a young woman your own age, pathetically claws at the tree trunk.

The thing with Greys is that they are terrible climbers. That is something they all share because their infected brains cannot muster enough strategy for it. What they don’t share is how long they have been decomposing, and what kind of physique they started out with. For instance, a Grey with a child's body will be less of a threat than one who was once a thick-boned man. Similarly, a Grey who was recently infected will have more muscle mass than one who has been rotting for years.

If you had your bow, you would be fine. But Skull-Face took this from you. Bitterly, you understand why. Who was he to trust that you wouldn't point it at them the moment they turned their backs?

But now there is no way to kill them.

You will have to figure out something else.

You shift on the branch to get a better look.

One looks bigger than the others. It still has some hair left. The others only have exposed skulls and a few clumps jutting out that resemble black worms. The female clawing the tree looks pretty weak and slow. You could probably outrun her. But even if you are faster, the Greys do not tire. They don't have the need for rest that you do, and even after a night's sleep and some pine needles, you are beyond exhausted.

Fuck. He really should have just killed you.

You want to cry. If you were hydrated, you would.

But instead, you carefully stand up on the branch, hugging the trunk to keep your feet steady. You scan the area. You didn’t make it very far from the pond the man and girl found you near.

What direction did they leave in?

You think you remember but even if you run that way, what sort of protection will you find?

You don’t know, but it seems like the best bet you have. Desperation seals this plan in your brain. First, you need a head start, so without much to lose, you shrug off your coat and wait until the three are close together before dropping it over their heads. It’s enough to disorient them, even for a moment, so you can slip down from the branch, scraping your knees at the bottom, and take off.

The cold bites but the adrenaline warms your muscles. Your body feels heavy despite being so thin, but something drives it. Your legs carry you towards the pond and past it.

But it is not long before they trail behind you with grunts and clambered, uneven footsteps. You don’t need to look over your shoulder to know that the biggest one is running the fastest. By the sound, there is likely only a ten-meter gap between you and him, living and undead.

It must only be a few minutes before your stamina nose-dives. So little fuel.

They’re gaining on you.

You whirl past trees and snow.

A camp.

A high fence around a small cabin.

The sight is enough to push you forward, energy spent but your instinct driving you. It must be them. You run and run, but then you stop, a gasp slicing through your lungs when your feet just barely stop in front of a deep trench. It is dug around the perimeter of the camp, wide enough to require a jump.

There is no time to think. In an instant, you decide you'd rather be killed by his knife than turned Grey. Bitten.

So you leap across it.

Your boots just barely land on the other side.

You fall from the impact and there is a sudden intense pain as something sharp under the snow pierces your torso and causes your eyes to roll back, fingertips clawing at the frost. A ringing in your ears.

You make out a flurry of sounds: the pathetic moans as the Greys fall in the pit behind you, someone's heavy footsteps crunching the ground, and then a gritted-out “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

Then, blackness.

You wake up to the touch of rough fingertips.

"Should be enough. Hand me the knife, Blue."

Eyelids heavy, you see log-stacked walls that form a small living room. Your body lays on what you believe to be a sofa, the sprung cushions so different than the hard surfaces you’ve slept on for years now. Your coat - Paul's old coat - is long gone. You are left with only your soiled shirt, the fabric hiked up just below your breast.

Seconds later, you are aware of the two other people in the room. A girl with mouse-brown hair stands over your head. She hands something to the behemoth sitting on the stool, who is leaning over to inspect your midriff.

Knife.

He will finally put an end to it all. He should have done so the first time. You clamp your eyes shut and inhale, ready for it again, but the stab to your gut never comes. Instead, a soft hand brushes your forehead and you hear the sound of his knife cut something.

"Hey, it's okay. He just finished the stitches."

"What?" you mouth.

"You may or may not have fallen on one of our caltrops," the girl says apologetically with a scrunch of her nose.

Confused, your head shifts against the cushion to look down. You see it now. The wound. Black sutures unevenly close it up, but still, some blood seeps.

“Don't get comfortable. Fixed it for you, but tomorrow you're out." He shakes his head as he speaks in a growl under his breath. "You have some goddamn nerve, you know. Leading those fucks over here."

"I�� I had no other option," you croak, but just these few words take so much energy to push through your teeth, and you lean your head back.

"She made a smart choice," the girl comments quietly. Blue. She nudges her father's shoulder and clears her throat. “Come on, Ghost. Maybe she could—"

"No."

A petulant sigh blows up a piece of her hair. She looks back at you and in your half-aware state, her youthful eyes remind you of your long-dead nephew.

You are not awake for even a minute longer before your eyelids flutter shut again.

Blackness.

The next time you awaken they are sitting at a table in the corner of the room. You lift yourself against the couch with a wince, your hand instantly holding your torso. Your shirt has been tugged back down over the wound, and your brain is a bit more aware than before. You look around again, taking in more of this new environment. 

When was the last time you’d been inside a house?

It's a modest cabin, but far homier than the tents of your old camp. There is a shorn rug on the floor and a small stack of board games: Scrabble, Monopoly, Battleship. Against the wall is a steel fireplace, the ash inside suggesting it was recently used. A lamp on the table casts a soft, yellow glow. You notice the outlines of windows that have been boarded up with planks of pine.

When your eyes finally land on the food they are eating at the table, your stomach hisses.

Ghost has his mask inched up so he can chew on a piece of meat. Blue sits on her knees in the chair, scooping her fingers in a jar of peanut butter. Some of it coats the corners of her mouth. He notices and reaches over to swipe a thumb against her lips. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles. She swallows a mouthful as her eyes curiously drift across the room. They widen when she sees that you are not only awake but trying to sit up.

“Ghost. She’s awake again.”

His response: wordlessly nudging a small plate and mug in front of the free chair at the table. 

Warily, you swing your feet down, nostrils flaring to rake in the smell of food rather than dead flesh this time. Standing is a difficult task, one that causes the muscles around your wound to spasm. But hunger is stronger than your pain. Desperate. Starved. You don’t have it in you to question the situation, not yet.

The small plate truly is small; it looks like he has given you pitiful scraps of things they didn’t want. Stale crackers. The hard pieces of dried meat from an animal you aren’t sure of. But it’s more than you have had in a week. With just how fast you inhale it, there is no time to wipe the crumbs from your lips. 

Blue is staring wide-eyed when you are done. 

You gulp down the mug of water.

“Shit balls. You really were hungry.”

Ghost pulls his mask back over a stubbled jaw and lets out an irritated groan. “I told you to stop with that. What are you even sayin’?”

“And I told you—“ she shoots him a look, tongue poking out. You sit there with your chest rising and falling slowly, each breath requiring more energy than you have. “ —that I like to be creative with it.”

They are talking to each other as if you are not even there. 

“There is no being creative with it. If you’re gonna swear, do it right, yeah?”

A few more bickers. One voice low and gravelly. A cockney accent. The other voice, soft and pettish. But you don’t care to listen. Rather, your eyes stare at your empty plate and you press the tip of your thumb to the crumbs and lick them off like a scrounging rodent.

The moment Blue is done with the peanut butter, a big boot under the table taps the leg of her chair. 

“Time for bed, kid?”

“Dad—”

“Go on.”

He juts his chin in the direction of a small hallway where you can make out the shape of a few doors in the dim light. One must be her room because, with a sigh, she stands from the table and heads towards it, leaving you alone with him.

He is a man who threatened to kill you, and now a man who has stitched you up and fed you.

Tomorrow you’re out.

Sucking in a breath, you look up at him. “What is your game?”

He narrows his eyes. “That how you say thank you?”

“Thank you for what?” your voice rattles through fragile bones. “Keeping me alive for one more day? You should have left me there to bleed out.”

“I should have.”

“So why didn’t you? Are you fucking evil or what?” Your teeth tighten and the muscles of your face clench. “I have nothing. No one. You know I won’t survive out there. What was the point of this— “ you gesture to the spot where your wound lies under the shirt, then to the plate in front of you, “—and the food? There is no good reason to, right?”

“There is no good reason,” he repeats in a murmur. "Maybe I jus’ pity you. You look like you’re one of ‘em already.”

He leans back in the chair as his eyes drag over you. He is covered head-to-toe. Wearing a long-sleeve black shirt and jeans. The mask is just as intimidating as before, a plastic skull sewed crudely to the black fabric and two faded, white lines painted down the chin of it.

Where you’d been terrified of the sight the first time, you are now angered. Your breath quickens through sore lungs.

“I don’t want your pity. I want you to stop being a coward and fucking kill me already,” you say, waving around a bony hand, “...or fucking help me. Make up your mind, but don’t send me out there again to suffer.”

You continue, quieter, wiping your wet nose.

“You can do it now,” a curl at your lips. “She’s not here to stop you.”

Dark eyes flicker away and stare dully at the cabin wall. He is boarded up like the windows. There is nothing to see except for the growing tension in the muscles under his clothes and the way his hands roll up.

The silence is dizzying. It could be fatal.

But finally, he looks back at you.

He pulls his broad shoulders into an intimidating posture before offering his decision in a growl.

“You will sleep outside," and your heartbeat staggers, "You won’t have any of our medicine. You will get food for yourself once that shit is healed. And—“ his voice lowers into something that makes your frail body shiver, his hand moving to grip the table. “—if you lay a finger on her, your neck will be the next thing I break. Understood?”

Your lips part. They close.

Your eyes flutter shut and you lean back in the chair. With a gargled gasp, you nod.

“Understood.”

Something soft touches your foot that first morning.

It gently rouses you.

"Hey, I heard you're a part of the team now."

A head pokes into the small shed you've been banished to and sunlight filters in. Groaning, you shift against the dusted floorboards. Your body only fits with its knees bent. Ghost gave you a thick blanket to sleep with, but nothing to lay on. Still, this shed is within their fortification.

You are still alive.

Somehow.

The game of survival has spat you out here, at the camp of a father and daughter. The memory of your first encounter takes the form of a phantom welt on your throat. Could you trust that he wouldn’t change his mind?

It’s not like you have a choice.

"Huh?" is all you can say, looking up at the child who you suspect had great influence on the moments leading you here.

"You know... the team."

Blue smiles down at you. The soft touch to your foot ends up moving right by your cheek. A puffy tail tickles the skin.

"What is—?"

"This is Grim," she says cheerily, and reaches down to pick up what you now see is a chocolate rabbit. "He's a good friend of mine."

"You have a pet?" you ask, rubbing your eyes in surprise. The pain in your torso has faded just a bit. Still, your body feels like a corpse. You sit up and the blanket falls to your waist. You miss the couch.

"Not a pet, a friend," she says. "Come on. Get up."

Painfully, you follow her out of the shed. Now that you are not running away from Greys, you can observe their camp better. It is... impressive. Not only is there the fence and trench outside, but within it is more than you ever had at your old camp. Covered in the snow lays a wood planter, which you assume they use to grow crops in the other seasons. Just next to the house is a large wooden hutch housing more rabbits than you have seen in a lifetime.

Blue leads you there, plants a kiss on the top of Grim's head, and slips him back in.

"You have a lot of friends.”

“They aren’t all my friends,” she says. “Only Grim. The others are food.”

Rabbits for food? It's brilliant. They breed like crazy. Having this food supply at their fingertips means they must not hunt as often as you and Paul had to— which means, fewer encounters with the threats outside.

Ghost is smart.

The mere setup of this place is evidence of how well he understands their needs. And with how well-fed Blue appears, they have not yet struggled the way you have.

But their food won’t be for you much longer. With your lack of a bow, you wonder how you’re meant to hunt.

Instead of worrying about it yet, you ask Blue, “Where is your dad?”

“Huh? Oh, Ghost is cleaning up your mess from yesterday.” She gives a shrug. “And he’s shoveling the trench. Doesn’t really work if there’s snow in there.”

“Why do you call him Ghost?”

You take a good look at her.

Her fair skin covers soft cheekbones, the skin of her rosy lips has been chewed a bit at the corner, and her eyes are truly the opposite of his: full and bright. She thinks the question over for a long moment as if it is something she’s never had to prepare an answer for.

Maybe, there has just never been anyone around to ask.

“He used to play outside with me,” she finally says. “He was in the military, you know? And when he was home, we would play this survival game. Pretend to shoot each other. Climb the trees. He had his codename, so I had to have mine.”

Military. That makes sense.

She continues, eyes flickering down to the herd of rabbits as her fingers brush thoughtlessly over the edge of the hatch.

“When things happened, I just remember him telling me that it was like we were playing survival again, except - you know - not a game this time,” her brows furrow, then she shrugs, “He’s called me by my codename ever since and I usually call him by his. Sometimes Dad fits better.”

“So," you say, "what is your real name, then?”

“I’d tell you," she gives a smile that reaches her blue eyes, "...but then I’d have to kill you.”

It is then you notice that Blue carries two knives on her. One strapped to her ankle, and the other tucked in the belt of her trousers.

Breakfast consists of what you now realize is rabbit. Again, your plate is much smaller than theirs. Ghost feeds you like one would feed a stray dog. You thought it might be awkward, sitting at the table with them. Part of the team. Except, not really. You feel more like a pest.

It's not really awkward apart from the fact that Ghost doesn't spare you even a glance. Blue's curiosity fills the space. She asks for your name. She wonders where you came from and why you were alone, her head tilted and her elbows leaning on the table. You explain your story quietly, shifting your gaze to her dad, and do your best to leave out the gritty parts. She listens, and offers a few gentle "sorry's".

"I can't imagine having a sister," she says when you are done. "And I also can't imagine having to watch her die like that."

Ghost stares at her.

You respond anyway, "I never imagined it, either."

After eating, Ghost leaves to fetch the same blanket he'd given you for sleep. Finally, he looks at you. Dark eyes that have the smallest flicker of disgust as they travel over you, causing your throat to dry.

"You smell like shit. Come on."

You learn that bathing for Ghost and Blue means using a small rag and soap made from resin. The cabin has a bathroom, but there is no running water, so instead, there is a bucket of some collected from a nearby creek. Ghost hovers near the bathroom door for a moment, before shaking his head and leaving you.

The cold water stings. Ghost was blunt but not wrong. You smelled like rot. You drag the rag over your skin and the valleys of your ribs, disgusted by what you see, and have a hard time remembering what your body once looked like. Your wound is still puffy against the stitches. Red, screaming. The small, scratched mirror above the sink shows you a ghastly face. You look away. You use the blanket to dry yourself.

Outside, you find Ghost and Blue playing tic-tac-toe in the snow. It's something you used to do with your nephew, only it was usually one-sided because he was always too withdrawn to care. Blue, on the other hand, narrows her eyes in fierce competition and Ghost sits on a tree stump, his elbows on his knees.

“How come you always get to start, huh?”

“Because,” she sings, drawn out, “Youngest goes first.”

“Doesn’t sound very fair.”

“Life isn’t fair. Remember, Ghost?”

“Jesus, kid. Not even a teenager and you’re already usin’ my words against me.”

"Don't say them if you don't want me using them."

"Just go, it's your turn."

This is how those first few days go.

It is mundane. Games, scattered meals, and walks to the creek for water. You don't join them. Ghost ignores you for the most part except to silently offer bits of food and checks to your wound. His rough fingertips never soften, not for you. He finds your old coat on the second day and gives it back with a cold: M’not giving you another if you lose it. It still smells like Greys.

You feel like an intruder, sticking to your shed most of the time. Blue pokes and prods at you curiously. It is as if she doesn’t know how much she is allowed to interact.

On the fourth morning, she greets you again with a soft wake-up call from Grim and, to your relief, an extra piece of meat that she slips into your palm while whispering: Don’t tell Ghost, okay?

And it's on this day, after breakfast, that the two of them decide to leave the camp to go hunting. Ghost is a big guy. Rabbits alone can't keep up the thick sinew of him.

"You're comin' with us," he tells you, wearing a thick SAS jacket for the occasion.

You almost choke. "What?"

"Your stitches are lookin' fine and you're walking alright." His voice is flat, with an edge to it that teeters towards irritation. "You can get your own damn food."

"I don't have anything to hunt with," you remind him.

He tucks Blue's hair behind her ear before asking her to wait outside.

Then, he disappears into a room down the hall, coming back a moment later with a wooden bow in one hand and a military-grade knife in the other. On his back is a rifle, and in a sheath on his tac pants is a handgun.

He sticks the bow in your hand, then the knife in the other. With wide eyes, you look over the carved wood. It is stronger than your old one, whittled down smooth from oak. Along the curve of it, Blue is etched in all capitals.

"She doesn't use it much," he says, before suddenly, the metal tip of his handgun presses into your torso - the wounded side - and he loops his fingers around the back of your neck, pulling you close.

"Don't even think of trying anything," Ghost growls this warning in your ear, digging the end of his gun hard enough to make you whimper as your healing wound cries out. "Do you hear me?"

"I hear you. I won't."

taglist:

@cool-0-n @savagemistresss @morganvoorhees @dinsverdika @cated18 @lolszass @jeswiii @all-good-things-have-an-ending @alternatealt @uvoiid @underatreedrinkingtea @ramadiiiisme @crissteetee67 @lexi-zsy09

[ihaveareadingaddiction]

"I needed to lose you to find me."

Seth Clearwater x Swan!Fem! Reader

Summary: You and Seth always been childhood bestfriends, one sudden day in a romantic moment, Seth imprints on you and you try to hide your feelings and after a little while, you realize you need him.

Warnings: Angst. Poor sethy boy 😔

A/N: THERE WILL BE A PART TWO, JUSTICE FOR SETH. This is my first fic so I'm sorry if it's cheesy

Your life changed when your sister came back from Arizona. She met the infamous Edward Cullen, you never thought she would date him, yet here you were. These whole two years have been rough. Your sisters vampire boyfriend, your best friends dad dieing, turning out he's also a werewolf, the volturi, Victoria's newborn army, and now it's Bella's wedding day. You thought everything was going way to fast. And it was. She was getting married at the young age of only 18. Of course it was a month before her 19th birthday but you tried to get her to wait another few years, but then she brought up her 'Aging', which you thought was stupid since she was not even 20 yet.

Bella was getting ready and I went in to go see her. As I walked in the room that Rosalie and Alice was working on Bella's hair and makeup. "Aww Bells you look so beautiful!" I said to her. "Thanks,Y/N. You look quite beautiful yourself." She giggles. "You flatter me, sister." She laughs as My parents come in and it's now time for me and my mother to go out. I walk up to Seth and sit next to him. He looks at me with a smile and says, "Well don't you look just gorgeous?" " You don't look to bad yourself." I laugh at him. "Why thank you my dear, you have touched my heart!" He says sarcastically as he places his hand above his heart. "Bella's gonna walk out in a few minutes, she looks stunning." I tell Seth. "I bet she's not as stunning as you." Before I could say anything, it was time for Bella to walk down. I stood up and seen her with dad. She finally started walking and everyone was looking at her. She smiled at me and Seth and looked at Edward.

They said their vows and so on and now everyone was slow dancing and me and Seth went outside. I was laughing at a joke Seth had told me about Eleazar and how he look like actual Dracula. We were just walking and then another slow song came on. "Shall I have this dance?" He said holding his hand out to me. "We shall." I say while laughing and we start to dance.

We were dancing then Seth breaks the silence. "Remember how you said that Bella looked stunning?" He asked. "Yes?" I say. "Well, Y/N, she might have been beautiful along with all the other girls there, but you were the most drop dead gorgeous girl there, anywhere in fact." He said while looking at me intensely. "Umm, thank you-" "No Y/N, I mean it! Seriously." He paused for a second. "I really like you, I have liked you since, I don't know, Forever?" He said and I looked at the ground. Just then Edward and Bella came out, and Jacob revealed himself from the shadows,he unexpected to see me and Seth. Seth didn't care there was people there,he still went on. "Feel this?" He said holding my hand and bringing it to his chest, and feeling his racing heart beat. "That's because of you. You make me so nervous- and I can't stand being without you- hell, Y/N, I imprinted on you!" And just then my world stopped. Everything was going to fast and turns out my best friend was in love with me also. I liked him but I wasn't sure I was ready to do this yet. And the imprint, Seth had told you about imprints a long time ago. Never did he mention, "oh and you're my imprint!" No! He kept it from you! "Don't you feel any love for me?" He asked. "Seth I like you. But I'm not ready... not ready fir this everything is going way to fast- and this! Imprinting? Seth if you would have told me, maybe we could have been together by now!" I replied. "Y/N,we can take this slow-" I was walking away. Till Seth grabbed my wrist. "Seth I need time." Is all I say before I walked away. I had completely forgot that Jacob, Bella, and Edward were there.

I wasn't ready. And quite frankly, I wasn't prepared, nor informed. I like him. But I need to grow to love him.

I walked home and went to my bedroom. A sudden since of sadness hitting my body like I had lost a loved one. I thought he hated me. Little did I know he was waiting for me.

[wisteriaw0rld]

-ˋˏ ༻muichiro x reader༺ ˎˊ- (fem! reader<3)

||synopsis: you and Muichiro both share a close friendship as you visit him by the river alongside your foster mother, lady Amane. Your friendship with him only gets strong until the young boy finds himself forgetting about you. He thanks a maroon haired boy that reminds him much of his dad for making him remember you again.<3

Muichiro x Fem! Reader, Forget-Me-Not

“Darlin’ I fall to pieces when I’m with you, I fall to pieces.” -Lana Del Rey

Tokito never had good memory. But you were there with Lady Amane that day to save Muichiro. Sadly, it was too late for his brother. You were able to save Muichiro though, and as the adoptive daughter of the Ubuyashiki family, it had been your job to watch over Muichiro. You made sure to take him under your care, despite the two of you being the same age. He was grateful to have you there.

But slowly as time passed, he began developing memory problems that slowly but surely got worse. You tried your best to have him remember most things. You kept a planner on the wall of his room with small notes reminding him of things to do. Though the planner hadn’t been enough. He had quickly forgotten of his own past which led to him soon after forgetting you, even though you made sure to visit his estate every day.

The first time he had forgotten you, you felt heartbroken. You entered his estate for your daily check up with him. Although the moment he saw you, he turned around swiftly, staring at you with his soulless eyes. 

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” The boy questioned, taking a small but intimidating step forward. Your heart dropped slightly at his words and his cold voice.

“Muichiro, it’s me. Y/n. I’ve been taking care of you for a few weeks.” You smiled gently, trying not to show the sadness you contained from him forgetting you. You knew it wasn’t his own fault but it still hurt.

“It’s Tokito. And I don’t know anyone named Y/n.” He replied while glaring at you. “I’d like for you to leave.” 

A small sigh left your lips. It hurt that he had forgotten you, especially with the friendship you formed with him. “I can’t leave. Ms. Amane sent me here to check up on you. How are you feeling?” Muichiro ignored your question, picking a Bokken that was on the table beside him. He walked past you without a word.

You followed behind him silently. The two of you walked out of the estate. Muichiro ignored your presence, walking over to the training dummy, hitting it repeatedly without looking back at you. It didn’t take long for you to see the signal. So you left.

Just as every other time you visited Muichiro, you always reported back to Lady Amane. She would always ask how he was doing and you would give a full report. Of course, she was able to tell how sad you had been about him losing all his memories of his time with you.

But even with her gentle voice telling you that he would remember, you had little hope. He had already forgotten all the important people in his past. You were sure if he couldn’t remember them, there would be know way he would remember you.

After the incident that had occurred that day, you began bringing small flowers to him every time you visited. Days before Muichiro had forgotten about you, the two of you were sitting in a small field of forget me not flowers. That day, Muichiro’s memory began getting worse. And as a random promise, he held a forget-me-not flower to you, telling you that he hopes he wouldn’t forget you. That he swore he wouldn’t forget you. The promise was meaningful but he broke it.

Your efforts of hoping to get Muichiro to remember you remained hopeless. He couldn’t even remember you from the day before. And when you gave him a single forget-me-not flower, he simply threw it on a nearby table, not caring for it one bit. Then as before, demanded you to leave.

It became a habit to visit Muichiro daily. Lady Amane had told you that you no longer had to visit him, seeing as he fully recovered. But you continued the visits. And every visit you would bring forget-me-not flowers. Each one he would throw on the same table. Soon enough though, they piled up.

Muichiro began getting harsher. You remember how kind he had been before when you would visit him with Lady Amane as she told them more about the demon slayer corps. Now he had stolen the personality of his brother. He was cold and harsh. And he didn’t seem to care about anyone.

With his newly found behavior, he began also getting more irritated with you. Your constant visits while claiming the two of you know each other for him annoyed. He especially hated the way you would bring those forget-me-not flowers that just took over his un-used table.

But something deep inside of him told him not to throw those flowers away. And do he didn’t. He just let them pile up there. He would wake up every morning seeing that same pile of blue flowers. He couldn’t remember you. But whenever he looked at those flowers, you appeared in his mind. He couldn’t tell if he enjoyed it or disliked it. The feelings were conflicting.

However one day you stopped bringing the beautiful blue flowers. In fact, you stopped visiting him all together. He didn’t realize that you stopped. Something in him felt weird as it something was missing. But he didn’t once realize it was you. It had been the flowers that he noticed first. The way they stopped multiplying and the way some of them became wilted.

You would have continued your visits to the mist pillars estate. But the man you would buy your forget-me-not flowers from stopped selling them. He found it confusing that you’d visit daily and only buy one. But he was an old man and had already passed away. And his grandchildren weren’t ready to run his flower shop. With the flowers gone, you saw it as a small hint to give up on making him remember.

So instead of simply going to his estate empty handed, you returned to the Ubuyashiki estate. Amane had asked you why the visit was quick. You told her you gave up. The girl felt saddened. She knew how deeply you cared for Muichiro. But at the same time it pained her more when you would come back from your daily visits to head straight to your room. Silently crying as only a few tears left your eyes. After every visit hope slowly drained from you. The harsh words Muichiro told you not leaving your mind once. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ 

“Will he be alright?” You asked the insect pillar while giving her a small glance. She only inspected the injured Muichiro more. He had come back from Swordsmith Village, getting caught up in a battle while visiting. Thankfully he had beheaded an Upper Moon. But now he was laying on the bed in Kocho’s estate. He was only resting but he seemed to be in such a good sleep, you weren’t sure if he’d ever wake up.

Shinobu gave you her usual smile, only more of a genuine one. She knew you cared for the other pillar. When you stopped visiting Muichiro, you began visiting her. She enjoyed your visits and she knew much about your past with the young hashira. “He’ll be fine. He’s already gotten enough rest so when he wakes, he should be feeling completely well.” Shinobu finally replied after looking over at you.

Even with her reassuring words, your worried face remained. It soon softened as the girl put her hand on your back in a soothing way.

“Well…I should get back to family now before Tokito wakes up and sees me. He already dislikes me enough.” You grimace, remembering the last time you talked to him being your very last visit. Which ended in him as usual telling you to leave while poking fun at you by calling your harsh names.

Shinobu just nodded at your words, waving goodbye as you walked out of the estate.

Suddenly, Muichiro sat up from the bed with wide eyes, startling Shinobu in the slightest. “Y/n?” The mist pillar questioned, his eyes traveling all around the room hastily searching for you.

“She’s already left. She’s heading to her estate. Kanroji informed me that you’ve regained your memories back. That’s a relief. But you better go get Y/n and apologize.” Shinobu smiled gently as Muichiro was quick to thank her. She wasn’t used to his new personality but she was glad to see him happy.

Muichiro was quick to run off to the Ubuyashiki estate. Even with his low stamina, he was focused and getting to you as soon as possible. Until he got distracted. While on his way over, he noticed a singular flower growing on the ground near the Butterfly Estates garden. A mesmerizing blue flower that he knew all too well.

Running over, he picked the small forget-me-not flower from the ground before continuing his way to the estate. 

He was quick to end up right outside the estate. And outside the estate was a large garden, mainly there as you loved to tend to flowers. His eyes darted around the garden, eventually landing on you. He missed you. He missed you more than anything.

You didn’t even notice him. You were focused on watering a small bush of pink and yellow roses while humming to yourself. Muichiro felt his eyes water. He lost everyone. You were the only one he didn’t lose. And he felt horrible for treating one of the only people there for him so badly.

The moment you set the water pail to the side and dusted off your clothes, you were enveloped in a warm hug. With the amount of speed Muichiro used to run over to you, both of you ended up on the floor while you let out a small scream in shock. You assumed it to be one of your siblings. Until you looked at the person on top of you, face buried in your neck as small sobs left him. 

His black and turquoise colored hair was sprawled over the grass as his hold on you got tighter. You noticed that in his right hand he was tightly holding a blue forget me not flower.

Your eyes widened before trailing back to Muichiro who finally brought moved his face away from your neck. “Tokito..?” You asked in complete confusion. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry! I remember. And I’m sorry.” He spoke in a sad and practically shaky voice before bringing his right hand to you, giving you the forget me not flower. You felt tears brim the corner of your eyes. A sad smile formed on your lips before you hugged Muichiro tightly, him hugging you back but tighter.  ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆

[beddybites]

This discussion physically hurts, all the TRAUMA Shinobu has??? Losing her mother at such a young age, gaining a new father figure (Gyomei) for a short time was kind of healing for her, having Kanae as her second mother figure certainly helped too but when she lost Kanae that's just double motherloss, I KNOW it hurt so badly for her to lose both her mother figures :( and now she has to turn and take care of all these young people when she needs help herself barely being an adult?? She is NOT a mother she NEEDS HER MOTHER!!! :((

I understand that Giyuu lost his mother figure as well but that does NOT mean he's searching for another???? I'm pretty sure Shinobu isn't actively seeking out a replacement for Kanae or her mom because shes trying to be Kanae herself which is NOT at ALL healthy???

Pretty sure Giyuu isn't looking for a mother figure, this point also stands for Mitsuri, so many people go around saying how it'd be so cute if he saw her as his older sister but in all honesty it kind of confuses me... Mitsuri is 2 years younger than him + finds him attractive + he's uncomfortable around her because of her uniform!?!?!?, it simply doesn't make sense for him to think "oh this younger lady who looks nothing like my sister and has a uniform that makes me Oso uncomfy reminds me of my sister!!" don't get me wrong I LOVE giyuumitsu friendship but she is NOT his older sister???

Idk man infantalizing a grown man and making him whine and cry to his two FEMALE younger peers doesn't sit right with me?? It's only ever them people make him cry to, the two female hashira.. Likeee??? It doesnt sit right to me at all, it gives the stereotype of "woman exist to make men feel better" anybody who believes that can eat shit and burn 😞😞

Sorry I got a little pissy there but my point stands it's so misogynistic and WEIRDDD Giyuu being a younger brother who was raised by a woman I'm pretty sure he'd have RESPECT for females, not treat them like napkins that wipe his tears 😕

NO FURTHER POINTS. YOU ATE THIS UP

i have no other comments you absolutely killed it, and im glad you brought up the whole mitsuri and giyuu thing of people often headcanoning that giyuu sees mitsuri as his big sister-- they may have similarities sure but to your point its really aggitating that people keep throwing giyuu into the two female younger characters and making them cheer him up or cater to him. canon giyuu would never

it absolutely does feel like a "women exist to make men feel better" stereotype and i feel like every fandom does this whether they realize it or not. the female characters are not there to make your male blorbo feel better

thank you so much for your addition!! you're so right. everyone point and cheer. shinobu kocho & mitsuri kanroji get behind me

[burnthoneydrops]

The Sun and the Moon II (e.b. x original character)

synopsis: the first ball for two recently debuted girls reveals a familiar feeling for one.

requested: no

warnings: none

word count: 1.6k

a/n: heyyyy, anyone remember this from over a year ago? im so sorry for the delay, i really ran out of long writing motivation there for a hot second, but hopefully i'm back at it? i make absolutely no promises though

My right glove sags unceremoniously from my arm and as I go to adjust it for the millionth time, Aunt Moore tugs at the back of my dress. I quickly retract my arm back to my side as we step through the double doors of the conservatory Lady Danbury had secured for the evening. She seemed a most formidable lady indeed, from what Aunt Moore’s staff had told me,  but the gorgeous flowers hanging from the walls were not overtly intimidating. Hearing that she was sponsoring two girls also foreign to the ton had put me at ease this afternoon, as I hoped I might find some comfort in a group of those trying to learn. I would never suggest admitting that I am an outsider to Aunt Moore, but I fear my accent has already done that for me. 

“Lord Cabernathy, the oldest of his mother’s five children, hardly objectionable,” Aunt Moore has spotted her first victim standing against a floral column. 

“Being the eldest is the only requirement making one suitable for a wife? The bar seems incredibly low,” I reply, much to my aunt’s dismay. 

“Must you be difficult when we have only just walked in the room?” She mutters through gritted teeth as another mama and her daughter walk past us with odd looks in their eyes. She smiles and waves at them, looking at my sideways to ensure that I heard her. 

“Is there anyone else, with at least more admirable qualifications?” I offer. 

“Lord Landry, a fine young man whose family owns a renowned horse breeding farm in the country. Good standing, only child so due to inherit a large fortune when his parents pass”. 

“Ah yes, wishing death upon people your age, my favourite pastime”. 

“I am merely stating that he would have a sizable income to take care of you,” Aunt Moore sighs. 

“I suppose the horse farm would not be the most impossible thing,” I try to sympathise with her efforts, thinking back to my family at home. 

Aunt Moore turns to me, and for a second I think she is stooping to an apology, when there is suddenly one voice ringing above them. “This is the season the Viscount intends to find  a wife!” 

As if someone had thrown a pile of breadcrumbs in front of some incredibly competitive pigeons, a flock of young ladies swarm the location of the voice. Standing on the tops of my feet, I see a rather uncomfortable looking man with his mother at the other set of doors. I recognize the mother from the presentation, Lady Bridgerton. Before I have time to recount this thought to Aunt Moore, she is pushing me towards the flock. I attempt to delay the process by dragging my heels into the ground, but her will is stronger than my calves, so I lose the battle quite quickly. I am stuck at the back of the half circle, watching girls fling their dance cards in the Viscount’s face, hoping he would sign his name. I would believe that half of these girls even felt blessed that he breathed in their direction, but I have slightly more hope for humanity than that thought would allow. 

As the circle of girls starts to diminish, thanks to those who realise that nothing productive will come of this swarm, I am left standing in front of the Viscount with Aunt Moore watching me from her seemingly perched position against the column. “Lord Bridgerton, it is an honour,” I state, curtseying as best I could despite the slight wobble in my ankles. 

“It is an honour to meet you as well,” he replies, though I can tell he is looking to get away as quickly as possible. His mother seems to pick up on my identity quicker than her son, as I catch her eyeing me in my peripheral, followed by her mouth forming a soft ‘oh’ of recognition. 

“You must be Lady Moore’s charge for the season,” she verbalises her thoughts, and it is then that Lord Bridgerton actually looks at me. 

“Indeed I am Miss,” I nod. 

“Lovely to be formally introduced. I noticed you at the modiste and the presentation, but it’s wonderful to properly make your acquaintance,” Lady Bridgerton smiles at me as I stand back up, finally being able to look both of them in the eye. 

“Perhaps a dance, Miss Moore?” Lord Bridgerton proposes as his mother wraps a gentle arm around his elbow. 

“I would be delighted my Lord,” I reply, extending my dance card forward so he may sign it. 

“I shall see you then,” he gives a curt smile before departing, leaving his mother and I by the double doors. I look back over at Aunt Moore, who is smiling like I have never seen before, and I excuse myself to head back over to her. 

“Very good start, I must say,” she says and I cannot tell if she is more proud of me or herself. 

It is soon after this that Aunt Moore goes to fetch herself a refreshment, and I make my way to a more secluded corner of the dance floor, hoping to watch and possibly learn the dances I had to forgo in my training. Though Father was keen on teaching me all the dances he remembered from his days in the ton, there is only so much dancing one can do while also running a family business. There appears another single young lady standing among the crowd, so I try to make my way towards her. It is clear she is watching someone else on the dance floor, and by the looks of it, it is Lord Bridgerton and the not-so-spectacular dance he is currently leading. 

“That young lady will soon be marked off his list I fear,” I comment, partially out in the open and partially hoping she will hear me. 

“Lord Bridgerton indeed seems rather frustrated,” she replies, keeping her gaze forward. “Would you prefer it to be you on that dance floor instead?” she continues. 

“Oh, not notably so. Though my Aunt would have you believe I do, she'll tell anyone just about anything to have me wed before the end of the season”. I pause for laughter, and when I am the only one who partakes, I continue, “do you wish for his name to be on your dance card?” 

“I am merely observing for my sister. She seemed most interested in him from afar, so I decided I would watch from the sidelines”. 

“What a fulfilment of sisterly duty,” I reply as Lord Bridgerton drops the girl’s hands, nodding curtly before heading outside. 

“Excuse me,” the dark skinned girl departs from my side and I suddenly feel alone once again. 

I stand off to the side for as long as I can stand, letting a few songs play through, before I realise that the next song is in fact my dance with Lord Bridgerton. I suddenly feel guilty, as if I am betraying the conversation I had previously with the mysterious other girl, but quickly depart from the crowd nonetheless so I can find my forced dance partner. He enters back in from the double doors and I am about to turn back around on account of how aggravated he looks, but Aunt Moore has somehow found me before I am able to do it. With a few words of aggressive encouragement, I am back on my trail, stopping right before the Lord and reminding him of our dance. 

The ensemble begins playing once again as the Viscount takes my hands, leading me to the right side of the dance floor. I do not dare start the conversation, both in fear of his current emotional state and that I might run my mouth and have my aunt dragging me out of the ballroom by my earlobe. 

“Your aunt is watching you for the season?” The Viscount starts. 

“Yes, my Lord, my aunt has been gracious enough to sponsor my debut this season”. 

“And your family, did they accompany you?” 

“Unfortunately not, the rest of them stayed back home”.

“And home is…” he trails off. 

“The Irish countryside my Lord,” I reply, looking between him and my feet to make sure I do not trample his. 

“You must miss them,” he supplies more to the conversation, though looks displeased at my inability to multitask. 

“Terribly,” I add as he spins me outwards. 

At that moment, I feel as though all time has stopped. No longer with the fear that I might step on the Viscount’s toes, I am spinning around the highly decorated room, attempting to keep my gaze locked on a stationary object. It is her. My stationary object is the girl I saw at the modiste and the presentation. Eloise Bridgerton. She stands at the edge of the dance floor, actively avoiding her mother I assume, fiddling with her dance card. I do not know what has happened between when I saw her last and now, but I cannot help but notice how radiant she looks. My vision becomes hazy surrounding anything that is not her, as if I can focus on nothing else. She cannot possibly know she is having this effect on me, as she is simply standing there. I fear I might lose all the saliva in my mouth with the way my heart rate spikes, and just as quickly as the moment started, it is ending. 

The Viscount is grabbing my hand once again, spinning back into him before we resume our normal facing positions. I glance quickly over his shoulder as we rotate clockwise to see if I can catch Eloise again, but alas she has run off. He nods at me once our dance has finished and hurries off to find the next young lady he promised a dance to and I am left there stunned. 

All I know, Aunt Moore’s pushing might have been more helpful than I previously imagined.

[two-white-butterflies]

wanting was enough | a. targaryen

Description: Aegon Targaryen falls for his father's caretaker. Loosely based on Knives Out. Rating: 16+

Aegon couldn't understand why his father loved everyone except his own children. He couldn't understand why Viserys' eyes would soften around his adopted children (namely Rhaenyra), but never around his trueborn ones. It was frustrating, but he knew that trying to fight against it was impossible. It was a losing game.

"How's dad?" Helaena inquires, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

Everyone could hear Viserys' complaints of pain last night. Old age was a bitch. Aegon could only pray that his father dies soon - at least they'd be left with money - but alas, bad grass die slow.

"Don't know. Wasn't allowed inside." he answered, taking the mug out of the counter - stealing his sister's coffee before she could take a sip. "I'll ask (your name) then," Helaena replies - rolling her eyes as he takes a sip of her sweetened cup of joe.

His eyebrows bumped into each other.

"Who?" he inquires - unfamiliar with the name. "Dad's nurse, apparently he's paying for her uni. She wants to be a doctor." Aemond barges into the room, pushing his siblings away as he boils water for their mother's tea.

Aegon snorts.

"I wasn't aware that our father ran a fucking foundation." he complains. Why was Viserys paying for another person's education when he didn't want to pay for his?

"I don't give a fuck about it - but the nurse is kinda hot." Aemond ponders - a pout was on his lips, contemplating on whether or not he'd 'tap' that. "I'll see where it goes." he smirks, already imagining your lips around him.

"Disgusting," Helaena shakes her head - pouring herself another cup of coffee, making sure to add a lot of creamer in order to avoid the bitter taste. "Hel, everyone knows that you swing both ways - I'm pretty sure she's hot in a female gaze too." Aemond nods his head - like they were talking about a celebrity and not a fucking girl that was sharing the same room as them.

"I'll be the judge of that," her eyes narrowed, and the kettle began to boil. Aemond lets out a sarcastic chuckle, holding the pot in his left hand and stealing his sister's coffee with the other. "Thanks, Hel." he grinned, walking out of the kitchen before Helaena could hit his head.

Aegon clenches his jaw at the sight of you. Beautiful - that he almost forgot what his name was.

"Viserys is alright. He had a bit of a back pain last night." you smiled at his mother - eyes dazzling and joyous.

What did it feel like to be happy all the time?

Your eyes trail towards him - scanning his shirtless body with hidden intention. He didn't have abs or anything - his stomach was round and perfect. Enough to leave a lot to imagination. Aegon's eyes widen, realizing that he was just wearing his towel.

Alicent turns to look behind her.

"Umm mom, where did you put my clothes?" he scratched the back of his head. This wasn't a pleasant first meeting.

"They're in the laundry room, (your name). Can you get them?" Alicent tilted her head. You reply with a nod - immediately walking and retrieving his clothes.

He paces back and forth in his room, feeling the water drip down his body. He felt embarrassed that you saw him that way - but also slightly happy because he could see that he was your type.

A knock on the door breaks him from his thoughts.

He opens the door quickly, peaking his head through and meeting your eyes. "Here are your clothes! I ironed them, I'm sorry it took so long." you smile at him and his hand reaches to touch his shirt.

It was warm, that means that you weren't lying.

"That's okay," he kept staring at your eyes - finding himself drawn in by their beautiful hues. "Is there anything else you need help with?" you raise both of your eyebrows and he shakes his head.

"T-thank you," he stuttered - not used to saying that word.

It was the evening of Helaena's birthday. The young guests were drunk - and the old guests were either sleeping upstairs or home. Aegon couldn't find himself drinking alcohol - it was too familiar to his father - too familiar to feel safe.

His eyes drift towards the dance floor - where you were joyfully dancing with one of his ex-classmates.

He knows who that man is - Cregan Stark. A younger boy who was accelerated into his section. He hates him. Cregan was cocky, arrogant, and too sure of himself - basically a copy of Aegon.

His jaw clenches - seeing you grind against him like a whore in heat. He wanted that for him - he wanted you to do that to him.

"Close your mouth. You're inviting flies," Alys sits beside him - a small glass of champagne was on her hand. His eyes glance towards her - he was unaware that she was invited. After her messy breakup with Aemond - she was basically excommunicated from the entire family.

"New girl huh? Aemond told me that she's a nurse," Alys ran her finger around the rim of the glass.

Ah, they got back together.

"What about it?" he answered bitterly - keeping that wall high and unreachable. "According to my experience, nurses are good fucks. They're a little bratty though - since they were mean girls in high school." she teased, searching for emotions in his stoic face.

"She's from a foreign country. She doesn't look like the type to be mean." he replied and a small chuckle exits the woman's mouth. "Good, you know something about her." she slumped on the chair - looking at you while you stop dancing.

"You're welcome," she whispers in his ear - standing up as you began marching towards him. His eyebrows merged into each other for a moment, totally clueless of what Alys did for him.

"Who was that?" you ask cautiously - hands on your hips and staring at him with an accusatory glare. "Alys, and why do you care?" he tried his best to be hard to get. "I don't care, I was just asking." you reasoned - looking away from him.

There was a weird feeling inside your chest - like you wanted to stab someone and hide their body in the mountains.

"People typically don't ask unless they care," he pointed out, smiling to himself as you walk away.

Thank you, Alys.

You ignored him the following day. Cleaning around his room while ignoring his words of complaint. "Get that thirty bro," he yelled into the mic - prepared to render his cousin deaf with the screaming.

"Baela, I swear to fucking god - if that was a snake it would've bit you already." he cursed again - killing the enemy with ease. "Don't scream at me. I saw it but you KS'ed me." the girl replied in an angry tone.

"I didn't KS you. You were lagging - tell Uncle Daemon to buy better internet." he trashtalked. Staring at you while he belittled his cousin.

Was that a turn off?

Was he being icky?

"Bitch please, tell your ugly ass dad to stop subscribing to satellite network." Baela rolled her eyes, stealing her uncle's kill.

"You're the one stealing my kills, fucking hypocrite buy yourself a new personality." he groaned and his cousin turns her camera on - flashing him two middle fingers.

He rolls his eyes, seeing that Baela disconnected again.

"I swear to god," he mumbled - turning his gaming chair around, and his eyes meet with yours. You were holding a basket filled with his clothes. "Can I help you?" he frowns, still frustrated with the game.

A small laugh exits your mouth.

"Is something funny?" he takes the headphones off. "It's amusing to see you frustrated over Fortnight." you snort - still fighting off a round of laughter. "You wouldn't understand," he rolls his eyes.

"Oh simpletons will never understand fortnight. It is deeply profound and must be studied by scientists." you exaggerated.

He couldn't fight the smile on his lips.

@pearlstiare @sweethoneyblossom1@tinykryptonitewerewolf @cheri-ladyy @watercolorskyy @bellastwd @nyctophilicvitnir @fan-goddess