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imfoive · 3 months ago

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The Youngest Son - Chapter 4

Minho x Reader (fem.) Genre: non-idol au!, Suspense, Angst, Romance, Mature Warnings: mentions of drugs, cursing, murder, death, somewhat proofread WC: 5.7k A/N: I'm really wowed by how quickly I planned this out. Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The youngest son of the Lee family was stubborn, he was arrogant, he was conniving. Hiding it all behind the mask of a calm and collected man, the youngest son was a master at mind games. Playing a dangerous game where trust is a luxury and betrayal lurks around every corner. He had sworn once, to not let family ties or any feelings hold him back. Yet, against all odds, she had him completely wrapped around her fingers, and he had no desire to break free.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

CHAPTER 4 ───────────────────

Following the death of Lee Jae, the rest of the business circle remained oblivious to the secret project that Park Hyunmin had meticulously planned for quite some time.

Rose Enterprises.

Park Hyunmin was still young when he returned from Australia to embark on his entrepreneurial journey. Naming the company after his late Australian mother, who had passed away during his teenage years, held deep personal significance for him. Despite that he successfully transformed the Park family, who had initially started as hotel workers in Australia, into prominent figures in the hospitality industry almost immediately, even expanding into the restaurant business.

Hyunmin’s reputation and influence were unparalleled, any collaboration with the Park Family and Rose Enterprises promised to catapult an entrepreneur’s importance in their society. However, Park Hyunmin wasn’t seeking just any entrepreneur for this ambitious venture.

L Corporation had solidified its position as a major player in the industrial industry, with its name attached to some of the largest malls, resorts, hotels, and even bridges. They were known for their wealth, intelligence, and strategic business ordeals. They were a perfect fit for Park Hyunmin’s ambitions. However, despite their success, the director harbored reservations about trusting them completely.

Since Chairman Lee’s retirement and the subsequent takeover by his sons, there had been a noticeable shift within L Corporation. The once formidable leadership of Chairman Lee, who single-handedly managed client needs, was replaced by his less competent sons. And despite their shortcomings, they somehow managed to maintain L Corp.’s top position in the industry.

However, the next generation, the grandchildren, was a mixed bag. Only three out of six were deemed worthy of praise. Park Hyunmin saw potential collaboration with L Corporation as both an opportunity and a risk, weighing the benefits of their established reputation against the uncertainty of their internal dynamics.

The oldest, Jungshin. He was excelling, but mostly took care of their overseas branches.

Then came Joohyeon. He was always falling short, but still did well. He was once married to some mayor’s daughter, but even that didn’t last.

Jookshin was the only daughter of the family. She was married off early to another big name family in the medical field, she still did her part.

Jihoon was the oddball. He was never present for anything, people sometimes forget he was also part of the family.

Jae did somewhat of a decent job, barely hitting the line. The only time he actually hit, was women and drugs. Although he did have everyone fooled that he had changed.

Finally Minho. The youngest son.

He kept his life extremely private. He was always present, yet didn’t have any scandals to his name. It’s surprising that he was able to avoid being corrupted by the not so pretty deeds of his older brothers.

Minho was a frequent topic of conversation for Y/N. Despite being the same age, their personalities couldn't have been more different. Y/N, spirited and carefree, stood in stark contrast to Minho’s stoicism. This contrast intrigued Park Hyunmin.

As a young man, Minho often went unnoticed in rooms filled with older, more established figures. However, his capabilities became glaringly apparent during the press conference following Jae’s scandal involving drugs and an escort a few years back.

At just twenty-one, Minho had adeptly managed the fallout almost single-handedly, impressing Park Hyunmin with his poise and skill.

It dawned on Park Hyunmin then.

Lee Minho was their secret weapon in damage control. A role he seemed to excel in more with each passing challenge.

He was young enough to navigate situations with unnoticed ease, often slipping under the radar without drawing undue attention to himself. Minho maintained a reserved demeanor, always composed yet aware, easily finding solutions to various challenges and obstacles.

However, Park Hyunmin harbored a growing dissatisfaction with the amount of time his daughter spent in Minho’s company.

He noticed how Minho attempted to avoid Y/N’s advances at social gatherings, only to find himself inevitably drawn into her orbit. Despite his efforts to maintain distance, their paths seemed to cross frequently, leading to speculation and rumors about their dynamic.

The gossip mill labeled Minho as Y/N’s “boy-toy,” a rumor that had gained momentum over the past years due to their peculiar relationship. From Park Hyunmin’s perspective, there wasn’t even enough substance to define what they had as a relationship, adding to his unease about their closeness.

They were Business friends.

And everyone knew what that term meant. But he was starting to wonder if his daughter did.

A few months before the grand engagement announcement, during Park Hyunmin and his wife’s anniversary celebration, Y/N’s father had observed Minho being pulled away from a group and disappearing with Y/N onto the terrace overlooking the garden. It wasn’t an uncommon sight but it caught the father’s eye. Concerned, he found Minho later, getting some fresh air along the stairway, or so he claimed.

With a directness typical of him, the father posed a question to Minho that caught him off guard.

“Do you see yourself marrying my daughter?”

Minho’s bewildered expression was enough for Y/N’s father to discern that romantic interest was not the reason behind their closeness. So, he pressed further, pointing out the societal gossip surrounding them.

“Then what is it? Isn’t it a bit unusual for you two to always be together? People in this society talk.”

Maintaining his composure, Minho stood upright and faced Y/N’s father squarely.

“People in this society always talk.” He replied calmly with a polite smile.

“Y/N and I are simply classmates who have become acquaintances. It’s difficult to find trustworthy acquaintances in our circle. We’ve known each other for years, learned together, so it’s natural for her to seek me out. That’s all.”

Park Hyunmin took a sip of his drink, adjusting his glasses, he mused. “Acquaintances, huh?”

“Yes, acquaintances.” Minho affirmed.

They weren’t even friends.

Y/N’s father would be lying if he said he didn’t think of proposing for Lee Minho to get engaged with his daughter, especially when considering how Minho could be an asset in dealing with L Corporation. However, the conversation he had with Minho by the stairwell weighed heavily on his mind.

Besides, pursuing an engagement with Minho would mean entering into a deal with the second son of Chairman Lee, whose capabilities fell short in Park Hyunmin’s estimation. While both brothers had their strengths and weaknesses, and claimed there was no disparity between the sub families within the Lee line, Rose Enterprises’ grand project demanded the best, and the director was inclined towards the more competent option.

Everything had seemed to be going according to his plans, until it went awry somewhere along.

With Jae’s recent death and the sudden decision to delay announcing the broken engagement, Park Hyunmin’s ambitious “Rose Garden” project had to be put on hold.

Despite the circumstances, his daughter Y/N had to maintain the facade of being Jae’s fiancée, a role she reluctantly played for the time being. Other families offered condolences and sent gifts, but beneath the surface, they were all calculating the right moment to propose alliances for the hand of the sole heiress.

In the competitive world they inhabited, Y/N’s engagement had been seen as a significant social event, marking her availability for marriage. Now, as they awaited the appropriate period of mourning to pass, other families were poised to make their moves, eager to secure advantageous unions with the prestigious Park family.

Y/N scoffs at the gift that some no-name nobody had sent her in efforts to woo her. A token of sympathy adorned with pretty flowers and hollow offers of support. The messages always carried the same undertone “if you ever needed someone to talk to” they were always ready to listen.

It’s been six months since Jae died. Initially, it was all the news would talk about for weeks on end, trying to dig deeper, trying to come up with theories of how he died.

But then someone else in high society did something stupid and the media was all over that.

Y/N’s mother was another headache, who just couldn’t catch a hint. Surprisingly her nice mother hadn’t been corrupted, even after having lived in high society for over twenty-five years, but she was easily trusting. She was a simple woman really, who Park Hyunmin had met when he was still trying to make The Rose Enterprises bigger than it was. They had risen together, but that woman didn’t change.

However, Y/N found her mother’s continuous efforts to set her up with potential suitors exasperating. These men were often charming and polite in social settings, but Y/N saw through their facade, politeness merely a pretense to curry favor. But despite Y/N’s attempts to shut down these setups, her mother persisted in her well-meaning, but misguided approach.

“Isn’t Kim Seungmin the nice young man from the mall?” The mother read the gift card.

“Yeah, the one whose family owns the Star Mall chain.” She retorted dryly, clearly unimpressed by her mother’s matchmaking efforts.

The mother hesitated, then suggested, “What about giving it a chance? He seemed polite and well-mannered.”

“Really? Jae seemed like a good person too, until he attacked me in our own hotel parking lot.” Y/N countered sharply.

The mention of Jae’s actions visibly hardened her mother’s expression, acknowledging the truth in Y/N’s words even if reluctantly. It was truly a bad decision that her husband had made, blinded by ambition and the lies about Jae changing for the better.

There’s a knock on the glass door to her office, and a few seconds later Y/N’s father entered, brightening up at the sight of both ladies.

“Ah, what are you doing here?” He asks his wife.

“Trying to convince this one to meet someone for a blind date.”

Her father was used to her mother’s naivety, chuckling as he nodded and took a seat next to. His attention immediately drew to the colorful basket of flowers on the table. He picked up the card attached to it, glancing over its contents with curiosity.

“You know, having the Kim’s at our side isn’t a bad idea. They’re established and even have a few more small projects planned.” Her father begins to say, glancing up at her, cautiously.

“Just tell me if we’re already engaged. I seem to be the last one to find out about my own engagement anyway.” She muttered.

Her father glanced guiltily at her mother once before looking at her. His expression hardened.

“If you’re waiting in hopes that Lee Minho will suddenly take an interest in you, you can forget it.”

The mention of Minho’s name brought her attention automatically to look at her father. Brows narrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“That young man has a clear set of goals. And you aren’t one of them.” Her father’s words were stern, warning.

Y/N blinked back, taking in his words. She bit back, jaw tightening as she frowned angrily.

Just who did he think he was to reject her? She hadn’t even confessed.

As Minho sat in his office, engrossed in his work, the door suddenly swung open and his mother sauntered in, her gaze sweeping critically around the room.

“Love what you’ve done to the place. Very…minimalistic.” She remarked, her tone carrying a hint of judgment.

Minho stood up, setting aside his work with a slight frown.

“What brings you here?” He asked curtly, not eager to engage in an unnecessary conversation with her.

“That’s not of any importance to you.” She replied dismissively.

He couldn’t help but let out a sarcastic laugh, rolling his eyes in exasperation. It was clear she was here to babble nonsense, trying to get information or even a rise out of him.

“If you’re in the mood to waste someone’s time, I’m sure father is taking his lunch break.” He retorted, starting to walk back towards his desk.

“Y/N’s mother has been asking around for decent young men in our circle. Poor woman doesn’t realize we have no decent men in our society, bless her.” His mother continued casually, a smile playing on her lips.

She watched his stoic composure, leaning against his desk, unbothered, unsurprisingly.

“Does Y/N know anything about it?” She continued.

He turned to face his mother, his expression guarded. She was sharp and well-educated, yet she had a penchant for gossip like any other high-society woman.

“How would I know what Y/N is or isn’t aware of?” Minho replied coolly, sliding his hands into his pockets.

His mother shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, I assume you would, since you two are always together. Maybe she’d have mentioned it to you.”

“Y/N and I are not close.” Minho stated firmly, turning his attention back towards his desk, his fingers idly playing with the pens lined up.

“I have absolutely no interest in her or what she thinks. Her desperation keeps me entertained, that’s all. She’s of no importance to me.”

Just as he looked up, his expression suddenly fell, his eyes widening as they passed his mother and landed on the figure standing in the doorway.

There stood the woman who was of no importance to him.

───────────────────────

The memories of a first kiss are something that a person typically doesn’t forget. Whether it’s was a bad kiss, a fleeting peck, or a passionate embrace, the fluttering feeling in their hearts are etched into memory.

But for Y/N, her first kiss was with a complete stranger.

She dubbed him her “cross-chain kisser.” Amid the pulsing lights of the club, the only detail she could vividly recall was the silver cross pendant hanging from his neck.

Y/N had just turned nineteen, and her father had spared no expense in throwing a grand party at one of their hotels. It was his only daughter’s birthday after all. He always made a big deal out of her birthday, but this one was different. This was her first birthday back home.

Of course for a few hours of the evening she had to act prim and proper, dressed elegantly in a shiny dress to greet her father’s guests. They all wished her for her grand day, expensive gifts lining up that seemed more intended to impress her parents than please her. She forced a smile, something she still couldn’t get used to after spending the last seven years out of the country for her academics. She felt more like a show-piece standing in between her mother and father, smiling and absolutely tired from greeting all the unfamiliar faces that came up to her.

The Lee family arrived sometime into the party, each member eager to catch a glimpse of Y/N Park, the heiress to all of Park Hyunmin’s wealth. They showered her with the usual lines of compliments, praising her beauty and noting how she had matured into a proper young woman. That she would finally be able to help with the company and showcase her talent. They didn’t even know her well enough to know of her so-called talent.

She was bored, she was tired.

Until Lee Minho came forward, his father and mother in front of him, the older woman’s arm was linked around her husbands. Y/N’s gaze brightened up, smiling at the familiar face, dressed impeccably well in his black formal wear and not his school uniform. Y/N’s father was surprised to see Minho, unable to recall they even had a third son. Minho greeted the man, telling him he’ll make sure to leave an impression on him so he won’t forget next time. The birthday girl couldn’t help but smile at his remark, which had made both sets of parents break into a light chuckle.

A natural charmer, that one.

She saw the quick glance he gave her while their parents engaged in conversation. She waited for him to come forward, they hadn’t gotten a chance to meet after returning back from school. It had been weeks. Much too long for Y/N, who had gotten into a habit of bothering him for the past four years. But he didn’t come forward.

She frowned, refusing to give in and be the one to walk up to him. Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him and not hiding her displeasure. He looked in her direction, watching as she bites the inside of her cheek, her disappointed expression not leaving her face. With a sigh, Minho slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks before finally walking towards her. Y/N couldn’t help but smirk, her head tilting cockily, silently asserting her victory to the one-sided battle she was having. He didn’t really see what was so wrong in coming up to your greet your guests, but it was her birthday party after all, and he didn’t need her complaining. Especially if her complaints reached his parents’ ears, something he didn’t need right now.

Putting on his polite smile, the kind Y/N had learned to recognize after years of observation, Minho greeted her.

“Happy Birthday, Miss Park.” Minho’s tone dripped of formality.

The way he addressed her had irked the heiress, as if he was putting a distance between them, emphasizing to any onlookers that they were mere acquaintances.

“You clean up well.” She responded instead, her arms still crossed, eyes glancing over him.

He cleared his throat, muttering a low “hmm.”

“How do I look?” Y/N inquired, lifting one side of her dress slightly to show it off.

Minho watched the fabric shimmer under the bright lights before meeting her expectant gaze. Obvious, she wanted a compliment.

“Like a disco ball.” He coolly stated.

She rolled her eyes, expecting that sort of response from him. Instead she looked around, then stepped in closer. Her actions garner him to instinctively pull his head back stunned, watching her lean closer before glancing side-to-side, she starts speaking in a low tone.

“Some of the other kids and I are going clubbing later. They want to give me a big welcome back, join us.” Y/N whispered, smiling and nodding towards a group of young adults in their circle who were mingling at a nearby table.

“Have fun.” He said instead, making her blink back a little surprised.

Minho back in Australia would have said he’d be there if she pressed. He would have ultimately agreed to go together even.

Minho back in Australia wouldn’t have called her Miss Y/N.

He nodded politely and smiled, glancing briefly at his parents who had already moved on to socialize among the other wealthy guests. With a slight smirk, Minho took a few steps backward, his gaze and smile almost taunting her, before turning and walking away. As if he had won.

He did in fact not show up that night.

Y/N even wore a black dress, slit daringly higher than appropriate, but enough to tell everyone that she was an adult. A grown woman. But he didn’t show, like he had said.

She was upset.

More angry than upset really, not that she should have been because he had already declined the invite. His words were clear. But imagining his smug expression as he walked away earlier that evening, pissed her off even more.

The other kids kept offering shots. She downed them one after another, pretending to be a seasoned drinker while inwardly cringing at the burning sensation and bitter taste that threatened to overwhelm her, a taste she was not used to. She couldn’t let them see that, her brave face smirking confidently at every other shot and drink coming at her.

At some point in the night, Y/N found herself on the dance floor with someone’s arm around her waist, though she couldn’t quite distinguish whose it was. The dim lights and the haze of alcohol made faces blur together. It might have been Chunyang or Chaeyoung, she couldn’t remember and didn’t really care. Everyone was starting to look the same to her.

Y/N had never gotten drunk before, she didn’t know what being drunk felt like. But if the inability to stand still and the blurry vision were any indication, she was a little more than drunk. The guy and girl in front started making out on the dance floor, something Y/N almost looked at curiously.

Something she hadn’t gotten a chance of doing yet.

She was drunk, but her brain wracked. The kids here have so much more experience. They’d down alcohol like juice, kiss and dance like experts. The academy back in Australia was much more strict, she guessed.

Suddenly, Chunyang or Chaeyoung screamed something in her ear, which made Y/N flinch. It was something about throwing up, but she couldn’t quite grasp the details. She realized soon after that the group she had arrived with had dispersed throughout the nightclub. The couple that had been dancing and kissing intimately had moved to a different part of the floor, and the girl who had been dancing closely with Y/N had disappeared.

Squinting through the colored lights and the darkness of the dance floor, Y/N struggled to find any familiar faces. Eventually, she managed to squeeze her way off the dance floor and make her way to the bar. The bartender yelled something over the music, smiling as they handed her another birthday shot of whatever she had been downing all night.

Just as Y/N was about to bring the shot to her lips, another hand intercepted it, and he drank it without a word. Y/N watched his adams apple bob as he swallowed the drink, a silver chain glistened around his neck. Her eyes linger on the cross pendant hanging with a tinge of fascination. He almost slams the shot-glass down, bringing her back to reality.

A reality where he had drunk her birthday shot.

She frowned, her words slurred as she pointed at him.

Something along the lines of “why’d you drink my drink?”

He probably replied with “what are you gonna do about it?”

“You’ll pay for it.” She replied defiantly, brows furrowed in anger.

Y/N grabbed his collar firmly, pulling him close, their lips meeting in a sudden and unexpected kiss. In the haze of alcohol and emotions, she couldn’t recall the exact details of the kiss.

Did she perhaps lick his lips in a stupid attempt to reclaim her drink?

The thought made her cringe inwardly for weeks afterwards.

Or maybe it was a subconscious response to witnessing the couple on the dance floor earlier, a display of intimacy that had sparked something in her?

It was her first kiss, and her drunk mind thought kissing a stranger was a good idea!?

Another thought lingered, one that she still thought about from time to time.

Did he kiss her back?

Y/N woke up disoriented in the back of her car, immediately hit by the unpleasant sight and smell of vomit on one side of the seat. It made her gag involuntarily. Hastily fumbling with the door, she stumbled out, clutching her pounding skull in pain. Groaning loudly, she leaned against the car, trying to gather herself. The bright lights of The Rose hotel parking lot only made her headache worse.

Bits and pieces of the previous hours flashed through her mind, but the majority of it was a blur.

She was sure a designated driver service was called, dropping off what’s-her-face as well. But beyond that, the details were fuzzy. The irony of being at one of her family’s hotel did not escape her, but she was too busy staring mortified as she suddenly recalled something.

Embarrassment flooded over her as she tried to piece together the events, particularly the memory of kissing someone. Her fingers instinctively touched her lips, the sensation vivid against her fingertips. She blinked, wondering if she had truly been bold enough to act on impulse like that. Her heart beat rapidly.

A persistent thought in her mind whispered.

Call him.

Y/N didn’t even need to second guess her thoughts, she turned back to open the door, immediately backing away because of the vomit stench. She really had to do something about that. Clasping her nostrils with one hand, the other searched the back seat for her cellphone. Body half in, half out, she managed to fish it out from underneath the seat.

Her eyes hovered at his contact. It was 3:56 AM. She must be crazy. But the badgering thoughts in her mind made her heart beat faster at each passing second.

It rang, and she stood straight, foot tapping anxiously. By the sixth ring she was about to hang up, but the click on the other side made her freeze.

“Hello?”

His voice sounded groggy, as if he’d just woken him up.

“If you’re not gonna talk I’ll hang up.”

“No wait!” She shouted immediately.

“What do you want?” He muttered.

She bit her lip, nerves and a strange tingle of memory swirling within her.

“Did you come to the club?” She asked.

There was a pause on the other end, prolonging her anxiety.

“Do I look like the type of person to go drinking and dancing at a club?” He retorted.

She hated when he counter questioned her as a response, frustration bubbled within her.

“Hey! Did you show up or not?!” She snapped, her patience wearing thin.

“I didn’t.” He calmly responded.

Silence fell between them, Y/N sank back against her car, absorbing the revelation.

“Did I kiss you?” Her voice was barely a whisper, filled with uncertainty.

“You must’ve had a really wild night to call someone who wasn’t there at four in the morning to ask what happened.” He remarked dryly.

“Go back to sleep, jackass.” She shot back sharply, ending the call almost immediately.

Minho sat on the edge of his bed, still dressed in outside clothes, the cross necklace dangling around his neck.

He set his phone down on the nightstand and rubbed his face with both hands, letting out a weary sigh. Hearing Y/N’s voice had brought him a sense of relief, despite the chaotic night they both had.

She seemed oblivious to what had transpired, and Minho was grateful for that.

He didn’t want her to remember.

And he would continue to deny it. He didn’t want to get entangled with her, despite his unspoken desires. Minho didn’t want to be in a mess created by her.

But he always ended up in Y/N’s messes.

As he sat there in the dim of his bedroom, thoughts circled back to that fleeting moment under the colorful lights, one that he couldn’t easily shake off. Even if he decided he would deny it ever happening. He brought his fingers to his mouth, the phantom feeling of her warm lips against his left a tingling sensation.

Did she know he kissed her back?

───────────────────────

“I have absolutely no interest in her or what she thinks. Her desperation keeps me entertained, that’s all. She’s of no importance to me.” Minho’s words were cold.

Y/N stared at him, her hurt clearly visible. She had overheard his cruel words, which he had thought were shared in private, just between him and his mother.

The carelessness of his remark, her sudden appearance, and his fleeting remorse hung in the air.

Minho caught his mother’s glance from the corner of his eye and swiftly masked his regret, but Y/N saw the shift in his expression. His face hardening in the midst of the whirlwind of her emotions.

She looked at the older woman, who offered an awkward smile, clearly trying to pretend they hadn’t just been discussing her.

“Y/N, dear! What brings you here?” Minho’s mother greeted warmly, her arms outstretched in a practiced show of affection.

Y/N glanced between Minho and the suddenly quiet room, then focused on his mother.

“I was in the area and thought I’d share some news before you heard it from someone else.” She avoided Minho’s gaze, offering a polite smile to his mother instead.

“I’m going to New York for some time.”

Minho’s expression remained unreadable and Y/N didn’t care to decipher it this time.

His mother looked taken aback.

“Really? Why—I mean, so suddenly?”

Y/N smiled softly and touched the mother’s hand that rested on her shoulder.

“I just made the decision.” She attempted to keep her smiling composure.

His mother raised a brow.

“My father and I believe I need more exposure to learn how The Rose Enterprises work. I’m going to be in charge of it one day after all.” Y/N’s forced smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, masking the tears she had been holding back.

The older woman nodded in understanding, but the tension between Y/N and Minho was heavy. She looked back at Minho, who neither smiled nor frowned. His usual stoic demeanor made her roll her eyes, expecting nothing else. The mother turned back to the young lady close to her with a grin.

“Would you like to join me for lunch? It’s about time everyone steps out for their lunch break.” She glanced at her watch and then back at Y/N.

“You go ahead. I have a lot of preparations to make.” Y/N said, clearly intending to speak with Minho alone.

His mother nodded and, though she didn’t look back at Minho, she had caught on. She gave a final smile as she left, clearly amused by the situation.

The door closed behind her, and the room fell into a heavy silence. Minho and Y/N stood a few feet apart, but the distance between them felt far greater all of a sudden.

“I…” Y/N broke the silence, and Minho realized he had been holding his breath.

“I ran here to ask you something.” She said, meeting his gaze with a mixture of confusion and pain.

The forced smile she had worn earlier was gone, replaced by the hurt she had felt from his harsh words.

“My dad asked if I wanted to get married and take charge of his grand project, or go to New York and put his dream on hold.”

Minho’s expression hardened. He already knew what she had chosen.

“I thought, ‘Why marry some other jackass when I already have my eyes set on one?’” Y/N laughed bitterly at her delusions, struggling to hold back her tears.

“I’m not sure why I came here, really. I thought maybe you’d tell me not to go or you’d find some solution. You’ve always been good at that… But of course, I’ll never hear that from you. I forgot for a moment.” She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, they began to fall freely.

Her words pierced him deeply, yet he struggled to find the right response, staring at her with an intensity he had never shown anyone before.

“I’m glad you were entertained, Lee Minho. I’m glad that I got to hear what you really thought of me.” Her face contorted.

“My father was right. You have clear goals, and I’m not one of them.”

“Y/N—” Minho began, his voice just a faltering whisper.

“I knew you didn’t like me clinging to you. I know my behavior makes you uncomfortable sometimes. I’m even aware that I can be overbearing—But I didn’t know you hated me.” She finally broke down in a sob.

Minho felt his face flush with heat and his throat tighten painfully as Y/N’s words cut through him. Before he could gather himself, Y/N continued with words that made him stare in shock.

“Maybe I should accept what my dad had proposed, maybe I’ll marry that stupid Kim Seungmin.” She declared, her tone resolute.

His figure stiffened at her proclamation, eyes glistening with shock.

“Or I can just go to New York, away from you. Either way, you can rejoice. You won’t have to worry about how you can avoid me.” She muttered, her mind coming to her own unknown conclusion, expression hardening.

Y/N took a deep breath, wiping the tears from her chin with the back of her hand.

“I’ll hate you like you hate me.” She spat bitterly, turning away to leave.

Minho’s hand instinctively reached out to stop her, but he hesitated, paralyzed by his own conflicting emotions.

Like a coward.

The door closes behind her with a soft click.

Outside, the desks of Minho’s team, now deserted for lunch, mocked Y/N with their vacancy. The absence of witnesses should have been a relief, shielding her from the embarrassment of leaving Minho’s office in tears. Yet, she couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of being so alone.

Her mind was in a frenzy, her walk to the elevator felt longer than it usually took, the silence of the halls was deafening.

How could she forget about Lee Minho?

It was a question that gnawed at her, as she struggled to comprehend when and how she had even fallen so deeply for him.

The realization cut deep.

Y/N couldn’t move on. Unable to fathom marrying anyone else while her heart still yearned for him.

Her eyes welled up again at the thought of Minho hating her. It was obvious yet she had always ignored it. She thought even if he didn’t like her like she did him, he would’ve at least gotten used to her constantly at his side.

So used to her, that he wouldn’t be able to see a life without her in his sights.

Pathetic.

The elevator’s ding shattered Y/N’s thoughts, abruptly pulling her back to the present moment. She looked up, hastily wiping away the traces of tears from her cheeks, suddenly aware that there might be others sharing the lift with her. But as the doors slid open to reveal an empty interior, a wave of emotion overwhelmed her.

Her lips quivered involuntarily, betraying the facade she struggled to maintain. There was no hiding her heartache now, no reason to pretend she was anything but defeated. With a heavy sigh, Y/N stepped inside the elevator, shoulders slumped with the weight of everything that just happened.

You’ll be happy right, Lee Minho?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! - @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23

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aureliqs · 5 months ago

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confessions in the common room

pairing: Remus Lupin x female reader

content:

Pure fluff

The school year is nearing its end and the finals are coming closer every day. You and your dear friend Remus are once again studying in the common room late at night during the week, while the other marauders are deeply asleep. Both of you can’t deny the built up tension, that has steadily increased, especially since you two always end up studying just with eachothers company

“I hate transfiguration class” y/n exclaimed as she let her head fall in her hands. Remus, who sat opposite to y/n, let out a long sigh, looked up at her, and just breathed an “yes this class in killing me”. As Remus looked at her, he wanted nothing more than to quit studying. Her beautiful eyes, her lips, her hair, just everything. Spending time with her and meanwhile admiring her is one thing. Trying to focus on studying while being near her another. Remus mustered himself up to continue reading, and silence filled the common room for a quite a time after, since neither of them knew what to say next. Both of their heads were racing with thoughts about how to get through the transfiguration finals.

Y/n was overwhelmed, and her mood was logically quit low. After heaping her head out of her hands she looked at a frustrated Remus frowning into his text book, desperately trying to understand its contents. Y/n hated seeing Remus like that.

Even then, Remmy, as she often calls him, looked beautiful. Brown fluffy hair, teddy eyes with an even darker shade of brown and the sweetest smile one could imagine. Usually, that is. She missed seeing him smile as often as he did before. The last weeks really took the life out of both of them. Sirius, James and Peter all cared equally less about studying as long as they passed. But y/n and Remus hat different ambitions. Ambitions worth suffering for they supposed. Still, they couldn’t wait for it to end, because nearly every evening ended with both of them studying late at night.

Studying and a silence, that was killing y/n. She needed a break. A conversation with Remus would hopefully lift her spirit.

“Remus” y/n whispered, to which Remus just murmured an absent “yes, what is it”.

“Cant we just drop everything and let fate decide our destiny” y/n vented. “I miss normally spending time with you so much”.

After y/n realised what she just said, a slight blush began to form on her cheeks. Did she really just said she misses his company. They do spend a lot of time together, be it with friends or just the two of them, but neither of them ever spoke about it. Y/n became a natural part of the marauders, since she accidentally found out about Remus werewolf secret early in their friendship, after she saw the boys trying to patch him up.

It might not seem like a big deal to other people, but for y/n it basically just felt like a love confession. All the times they’ve catched the other one just looking a bit too long, all of the meeting glances, the accidental touches of their hands, where both of them quickly pull away and apologise, despite wishing it continued. Both of them danced around it for so long, trying to ignore it.

Even the other marauders noticed, often times raising an eyebrow, smirking, but otherwise brushing it off and leaving it up to them to not get involved. It would happen eventually they thought.

Remus heart skipped a beat for a second. Y/n misses me he thought to himself. As y/n tried to look down in the textbook to not meet his eyes, Remus was looking at her, trying to muster up his courage. This is his chance. He can’t miss it. Not now. Y/n has been driving him crazy with everything. Her laugh, her witty remarks, the way she frowns when she looks in her textbooks, which he has been seeing fairly often lately, just everything.

“I…I’ve been missing you too” Remus declared, mustering up the courage to look at her. As y/n looked up at him, she understood that he meant it exactly the way she has meant it. She just didn’t know what to say now. Y/n was absolutely dumbstruck and the blushing was once again creeping up on her face.

Remus swallowed. This was it, all or nothing. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something for a while now.” Y/n looked at him with her eyes wide open and just slightly nodded, as no sound would leave her throat.

“I like you…I mean I really like you, like romantically” Remus stiffened as he noticed he was messing it up. Y/n realised what was happening, but was still too dumbstruck to speak. Remus didn’t notice as he was to busy with his own hang up at the moment.

“Uuuum, no, well actually. Wait! Let me start again.” The fluffy haired boy stopped himself, took a deep breath and began again”

“I’ve had feelings for a while now, and I just want to ask you if you would go on a date with me. I think you’re so sweet, and funny and… just beautiful” he exclaimed. Remus words hung in the air, tensing everything up.

Y/n came to her senses again. Hesitant at first, she proclaimed “I … I would really love that.”

“Phewww” Remus began to chuckle. “I’ve been so scared about ruining our friendship right here and now. I didn’t want to screw our friendship”

Y/n slightly grinned at him, and just added an “I’ve been so scared too”. All of the tension felt like it was blown away, and the room eased up. They were both just slightly smiling at eachother, both being a bit red on the cheeks.

Y/n chuckled and said “I can really look forward to something now, to get through these horrible finals”, to which Remus just replied a “yeah, to best thing I could imagine”

A slight yawn creeped up on y/n, and Remus realised it would be better to just end the night and get some rest. “Y/n, maybe we should get some sleep”. Y/n followed up with another yawn, and cooed a little “yes, we should”

They were quickly finished with packing up their textbooks, parchment and quills. As y/n was about to head upstairs to her dorm, she turned to Remus and said “I can’t wait for our date. You’re really sweet. Good night Remmy”

Remus replied with a “I can’t wait either, good night to you too”, but before Remus could leave y/n hugged him. It was their first hug, and it felt so intimate. The way her hands wrapped around his waist, and how her hair smelled like vanilla and honey. Y/n felt so close because she was. For Remus it is a dream come true. Just as y/n pulls away, Remus comes back to his senses. Y/n is about to head to hear dorm, already being on the steps and he just sees hair leave for the night.

Remus stood there for a few seconds longer before heading upstairs and getting ready for bed. As he was laying in bed, he had a hard time falling asleep. All he could think about was what will happen in his near future, and Remus couldn’t help himself from grinning to himself. Little did he know, y/n was doing the exact same thing right now too.

I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave me some feedback,prompts and request <3

#remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin blurb #remus x you #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #young remus lupin #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin fluff

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scapegrace74-blog · 4 years ago

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Now or Never Now

A/N Really more of a PSA: drunkenness and unrequited (or unacknowledged) feelings for your roommate aren’t the best of bed fellows.

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The song by Metric that inspired the title and a few lines is here.

May 1, 2018, The Pride of Spitalfields, London, England

If he were forced to account for his twenty-eight years of life, he reckoned he’d made a decent start of things. It helped to have been born into a loving, boisterous family, cradled in the bucolic nursery garden of the Scottish Highlands. A good education, good values, a strong sense of duty: these he owed to his parents.

Since moving to London at twenty-two, he’d begun to weave the advantages of youth into the intentions of adulthood, with varied results. Failed relationships, the struggles of establishing a career in his uncle’s shadow and the cataclysm of his accident were setbacks, to be sure, but they forged his character in the blast furnace of adversity. He enjoyed the comradeship of a tight-knit group of colleagues and friends. Only three months ago, he’d been promoted to Crew Manager at the Bethnal Green station, and he had his eye on a Station Officer post before he turned thirty-five, his ambition to finally break free of Dougal’s influence. And Claire. He couldn’t count his blessings without numbering his Sassenach among them.

He performed this annual stock-taking as he walked to his local pub. It was his birthday, and he was meeting some friends for a celebratory drink. To absolutely no-one’s surprise except her own, Claire had finished her first year of medical school at the top of her class, and he’d convinced her to join them.

The air was warm and sweet with blossoms as he entered the pub to a rowdy cheer. His mates had secured two tables near the tiny stage where a three-piece band were setting up. The party was well underway, and a pint of lager was thrust into his hand before he’d even taken his seat.

He thought he’d been rather surreptitious in checking the door each time it opened, but Hamish slapped him hard on the back and commented in a voice the whole table could hear.

“Yer Sassenach missus willna get here any faster wi’ yer eyes glued tae the door, lad. Christ, has she got ye whipped!”

He felt the tips of his ears grow warm as the rest of the table laughed and joined in on the good-natured ribbing. When he looked back up, Claire was standing there shedding her coat. He momentarily forgot to breathe. She was wearing black tights and the jean mini-skirt from their first meeting in this very pub, along with a sleeveless, cropped, ruffled confection that he’d definitely never seen before. She was, quite simply, stunning. The momentary lull from the rest of the table told him he wasn’t the only one who thought so. He stood and hastened to greet her with a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Jamie!” she cried. “Happy birthday!” Her arms wrapped around his neck and she leaned in to return his kiss, barely missing his lips. He could smell whisky on her breath.

“Did ye get a headstart on yer celebratin’, Sassenach?” he asked, both amused and confounded. Claire hadn’t mentioned any other plans, and it wasn’t like her to drink alone at their flat.

“Aye, I have,” she giggled. “I had a partner in crime. Look who’s here!”

Claire gestured towards the coat check, where a familiar redhead was flirting with the attendant. His wame plummeted towards his shoes.

“Geillis,” he greeted as she approached. “Welcome back tae London. I didna realize ye were visiting.”

“Aye, we just arrived yesterday. Happy birthday, fox cub. Ye look well,” she commented with a smirk.

“As do ye,” he replied politely, glancing quickly at Claire to gauge her reaction, but she was observing the band, who had just begun to play.

“Och, mince,” Geillis replied. “My arse needed its own baggage allowance, but at least my tits are huge. Ferget about the bairns, I hadta pry Juan Carlos off ‘em so I could join in yer wee festivities!”

It was comforting to see motherhood hadn’t dampened Geillis’ spirit in the slightest.

“I see the lads are all here,” Claire segued quickly. “What are we drinking?”

Jamie slid his chair over to make room for the two newcomers. Before she’d even sat down, Geillis bought a round of shots for the table, to the general delight of his mates. It was going to be an interesting night.

***

“Com’ dance wit’ me!” Claire yelled in his ear louder than was absolutely necessary. Several hours had passed, and he’d lost track of the number of pints and shots she’d consumed. Realizing one of them would need to stay relatively sober, he’d been nursing the same ale for the past hour.

“Claire, I really dinna dance o’ermuch,” he stalled as she dragged him towards the small area between tables where a few other couples were rocking together to a slow ballad.

“Neveryouworry, lad. I’ll lead.” Of course you will, he thought fondly.

Instead of leading, Claire literally fell against his chest, allowing his bulk to catch her. Chilly hands met behind his neck and began teasing his curls where they lay against his nape. He couldn’t’ help it. He shuddered. Drunk, he reminded himself. She is drunk, she is yer roommate, and she trusts ye.

“Are y’ havin’ a good birthday, Jamie?” she murmured into his clavicle, where her forehead was resting. He couldn’t help smiling. He’d once compared her to a lioness, but right now she was doing a fair impression of a dozy kitten, allowing him to sway their bodies side-to-side in complete contradiction to the music’s rhythm.

“Aye. Aye, I am. And ye, Sassenach? Did I mention how proud I am of ye fer acing yer exams?”

The moist air of her chuckle seeped through his shirt. “Only a dozen times. Thanks for keepin’ me fed and caffeinated whilst I studied. I couldinit have done it wi’out you.”

“Twas my pleasure, Sassenach. We make a braw team.”

He said it offhandedly, but Claire stilled in his arms, leaning back to peer up into his face. There was something there, behind her slightly glazed eyes, that he’d given up hope of ever seeing.

“We do, don’t we?” she whispered, gaze flitting between his eyes and his lips, before skittering away. The humid air of the pub seemed to press in on him from all sides, making it difficult to draw a solid breath. A warning bell began to peel somewhere in his mind, alerting him to the fact he was in very grave danger of making an ass of himself.

She’s no’ yours, lad, he coached himself. No’ unless she wills it, and she canna know her own mind when she’s hammered. He tried to divert the conversation to safer territory.

“Tis good tae see Geillis again. Ye must have missed her somethin’ fierce.”

“Mmmm,” Claire hummed noncommittally. One of the hands that had been resting behind his neck began to thread through his hair, fingernails scraping lines of pleasure into his scalp. Christ, that wasn’t helping his cause at all.

“Claire...” he entreated into the scant space between them. Her long legs had somehow become entangled with his own. She was practically riding his thigh. Another few inches, and she was going to come into contact with the only part of him that was enthusiastic about dancing with a beautiful lass.

“I think iz time y’ take me home, James Fraser,” the limpet formerly known as his roommate purred in his ear. Thank Christ. Another few minutes of that sultry upright writhing, and he might have taken her right there on the beer-stained table in front of the darts board.

Navigating Claire’s increasingly pliant body towards the door and the salvation of the cool night air, Jamie ran directly into the diminutive roadblock of her best friend. Pulling him aside, she grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged his head down to her level.

“I ken she’s yer roommate and ye look at her as though she’s the sun after a thousand days o’ rain, but she’s my best friend an’ I love her. She’s scared, but she trusts ye. Dinna fuck it up.”

Without awaiting a reply, Geillis spun around and returned to their table. When he turned towards Claire, she was giving him a peculiar look. He shrugged it off as nothing more than inebriation, and started the short three-legged stumble back to their flat.

“Ye know, Sassenach, this is twa times I’ve had tae practically carry ye home from tha’ pub. Ye’re a verra predictable drunk.” They were navigating Brick Lane with a heavy list to starboard, where Claire leaned heavily into his side.

“First of all, milad, I am. Not. Drunk. You canned be drunk if y’ can shtill walk upright. Thas your rule, may I remind you.” Mid-lecture, the heel of her boot caught between two cobbles. She would have gone down in a heap were he not already bearing most of her weight. “Ooops!”

“An’ second of all,” she continued undaunted, “when didyu carry me again? Since? Fuck! Before?”

He chuckled. If nothing else, Claire was a very amusing drunk.

“Twas the first night we met, actually. Ye were shipping out tae Afghanistan the verra next day.”

They’d reached their front door. He was fumbling for his keys when he noticed Claire had gone remarkably silent. Even in the yellow glow of the hallway, her face was incredibly pale.

“Are ye alright, Sassenach? Are ye gonna be sick?”

What came out of her mouth next was even worse.

“You fucked Geillis. That night. In our shower.”

Golden eyes interrogated him, tearing away any hope of evasion. Gone was the cuddly kitten, and the lioness was on the hunt for blood. Christ, he was going to kill Geillis for sharing intimate details of their one-night stand. Assuming he lived to see tomorrow.

She trusts ye. Dinna fuck it up.

His father had an aphorism he was fond of repeating. Being an adult has little to do with your actions, he would say, and everything to do with living with the consequences of those actions. Any callow lad could stick his cock in a lass, but it took a man to live up to his responsibilities thereafter.

“Aye. I did. Twasn’t planned, nor somethin’ I’m particularly proud of, but thas’ the truth of it. It didna mean anything, Sassenach. Twas jus’ sex.”

They were inside the flat now. He was mentally trying to evaluate whether it was safe for Claire to shower, or if he should simply tuck her into bed with a basin and some Gatorade. She wasn’t moving, though. She stood in the streetlight that illuminated their living space, a disheveled, beautiful mess.

“It’s my turn.” She sounded sober, all of a sudden. He poured a tall glass of cold water from the sink for her, regardless.

“Yer turn fer what, Sassenach?”

“My turn for you to fuck me.”

There was a hollow thunk and the cool splash of water against the cuffs of his trousers as the glass he had been holding hit the floor. His chest felt like he was trying to suck cake batter through a straw. To make matters worse, while he was in the kitchen she had shed her top and was standing in a sheer black bra, the peaks of her nipples cast in silvered shadow.

“Claire...” he breathed out.

She approached slowly, extending a hand to lay over his sprinting heart.

“Don’t you want me?” Asked by any other woman, the question would be coy, but he heard the truth behind her query. She really didn’t know. Either he was a better actor than he gave himself credit for, or she was still seeing him through the filter of her past mistreatment.

“So much tha’ it hurts tae breath, lass. But ye dinna want this, Claire. No’ now.” His body was already protesting his declaration, a pulsing ache centered in his balls, but rooted in his heart.

“It’s now or never now, Jamie. This is all that I have to give. Isn’t it enough?”

She took his hand and placed it over the scalloped seam of her breasts. Without volition, his fingers curled, testing the pliant firmness beneath them. His muscles ached from holding himself in check.

“Tis far more than I deserve, Sassenach. But the answer is no.” He pulled his hand away, his fingertips still tingling from the velvet of her skin. “Ye should get some sleep.”

Her glass face showed every emotion, each more painful to witness than the last: hurt, anger, embarrassment, spite, and finally betrayal. Mumbling a hasty goodnight, she practically ran to her own room. He could hear her there now, sobs muffled by the wall he placed between them.

Dinna fuck it up.

He cradled his throbbing head in his hands. How could doing the right thing turn out so horribly, spectacularly wrong?

***

May 21, 2018, Spitalfields, London, England

It has been twenty days since Claire’s drunken proposition, and they’d barely spoken a word to each other in that time. As much as he was prepared for awkwardness to descend upon their once-easy relationship, he was shocked by how much her avoidance pained him. Couldn’t she see that he’d acted out of affection, and as her friend, ignoring the very great temptation she’d lain at his feet?

His first strategy had been to give her space. He snatched at any excuse to be out of the flat: long runs, a pint after work with the lads, and even a long weekend with his family at Lallybroch. Each day his phone was a constant weight in his hand, waiting for the moment she would text him about something bizarre she’d read, or call to ask where he’d hidden the olive oil. She never rang.

Next he tried haunting their flat, planning to bump into her and force that first, clumsy conversation. He was certain that once they got past that hurdle, they could begin to rebuild their rapport. Almost certain. Desperately certain. She didn’t come home, working double shifts at the hospital and timing her visits for a shower, nap and change of clothes to coincide with his work shifts. One night he fell asleep on the couch listening for the sound of her key in the door. He woke the next morning covered in the plaid from his bed, but once again alone.

He sat in an outdoor cafe, watching London unfold under the warming sun like a rose, and considered what he knew about Claire that would help mend the breach. She was stubborn. The past twenty days were testimony of that. She was proud. She would sooner suffer than accept help. She held herself to incredibly high standards, and hated to fail at anything. She would have taken his rejection in the worst possible light. She’d been badly hurt and deceived. Their relationship had been one cautious step after another across the tightrope of trust strung between them. Fueled by drunken emotion, she’d leapt forward, and he had not been there to catch her.

He opened his phone and stared at her photo in his contacts. She’d been furious with him the day he snapped it. He’d dragged her to a park on her day off to play rugby, only to find out the match had been cancelled on account of the heavy rain. Heavy ringlets hung over a soaking jersey, and her glowing eyes promised swift revenge.

A dozen flowery or flippant texts were considered and abandoned before he opted for the simple and true.

I’m sorry. I know I hurt you, and I want to make it better. Please tell me how.

He pocketed his phone and crossed the road to the fire station for his evening shift. If she hadn’t answered by the morning, he’d try again, and keep trying until she finally responded.

Twelve hours later, dawn was just cracking the sky as he prepared to walk home. The station alarm rang out, but the day crew would take the call. Even now, they were throwing on their gear and firing up the engine.

“Corbet Place. Isn’t that your neighbourhood, Fraser?” the driver commented as he hastened past.

Ice water flushed into his veins. There were exactly two buildings on Corbet Place, and one of them contained a flat where a beautiful Sassenach was currently sleeping off a double shift. A beautiful Sassenach who could sleep through a fire alarm.

He hoisted himself into the cab of a departing engine.

“Hey lad, this isn’t a taxi!” one of old hands joked, but sobered when he saw Jamie’s face.

The streets were empty. They made the trip in record time that felt like an eternity to his racing heart. As they drew near, the reek of a burning structure filled the air. A half dozen other engines were parked haphazardly in the adjacent lot, their booms extending like insect antennae towards a cruelly familiar five-story brick building. Flames licked the corner of one of the lower levels, punctuated by the pop of shattering glass and the skeletal groan of old beams giving way.

Grabbing a spare coat, hat and respirator, he ran towards his building, ignoring every professional protocol and ounce of common sense he possessed. Claire was in their flat, and there wasn’t a power under the sun that would keep him from getting to her.

“Jamie!”

He spun towards her voice, thinking he might be hallucinating. But no, sitting on a picnic table, wrapped in his Fraser plaid, was his beautiful Sassenach. His knees turned to water and he sank to the bitumen at her feet.

“Claire...” he wheezed, adrenaline still coursing through his limbs.

“Were you on your...”

“How did ye...”

They both spoke, then lapsed back into stunned silence.

“Ye’re safe.” He said it as much to himself as to her. “Ye’re here. I thought.. when I heard the call... Christ, Sassenach. I’ve never been sae scared in my entire life. How did ye get out?”

“I got your text. I was dozing on the couch, waiting for you to come home so we could talk. The fire alarm woke me. There was already so much smoke. I used your plaid to cover my nose and mouth and ran down the fire escape. Oh Jamie, I’m so sorry.”

Claire’s chin fell towards her chest, a lone tear streaking through the soot that marked her cheek. He ran a shaking hand through her unbound hair.

“Why are ye sorry, Sassenach?”

“All your things. Your memories. They were all in that flat.”

He tilted her up by the chin.

“Claire, look at me. There isn’t a feckin thing in tha’ flat that I care about that isna sitting in front of me right now. Jesus, woman, do ye no’ ken the thought of losing ye tears out my guts?”

She looked deeply into his eyes, peering into his very soul. For once, he did not think to hide behind a mask. Let her see how she utterly destroyed and remade him. All around them, the world faded to smoke.

“You... you love me?”

Nownownow.

“Aye. I do.”

#my writing #outlander

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sunflower-swan · 4 years ago

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Wolfstar Chapter 1

A/N: Here’s what you need to know: I created this story for Writer’s Month 2020. Every day is a new prompt, and therefore a new chapter. This is an AU Wolfstar where Remus is a tattoo artist next door to Sirius who manages a flower shop. James and Lily are alive in this universe and own a coffee shop across the street. And to make parts of the story work with the prompts, Remus is about 10 years older than Sirius.

Day 1 Prompt: Tattoo Artist/Flower Shop AU

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 1318

Tags: smoking, language

Chapter One

Remus

Randy Newman “You’ve Got a Friend in Me”

If you've got troubles, I've got 'em too

There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you

We stick together and can see it through

'Cause you've got a friend in me

“Missed you at the Potter’s Wheel.” Remus handed a steaming cup of coffee -- black with cream, no sugar -- to the younger man. He had grown accustomed to their morning coffee ritual, so he had worried when the other didn’t show up that day.

A bearded face peeked around the large floral arrangement. His grey eyes widened and then looked down at his watch. “Shit. I’m sorry,” Sirius apologized and accepted the cup. “We’re a little swamped at the moment,” he chuckled.

Remus looked around the Flower Loft. It didn’t seem any more crowded with floral arrangements than usual. In fact, it looked as it always did. The same cooler containing premade arrangements stood along the wall near the door -- for those spontaneous or impulsive people. Small tables containing other trinkets and tokens for sale dotted the wood floor. He couldn’t see anything different or out of place.

He looked back at Sirius. “So everything’s ok then?”

“Everything’s fine except I have two florists out sick this week, plus one on her honeymoon, which means I’m coming in early and working late this week to get our orders done on time.”

Remus noticed the dark bags under his friend's young eyes and worried that his ambition might be greater than his ability. “I grabbed a couple takeaway sandwiches, too.” He held up the wrapped sandwiches. “You need a break. Come on.” He took a sip of his mocha cappuccino and headed for the door.

Sirius followed him out the door and down the sidewalk. Remus stopped at a bench under the shade of an oak tree and they both sat down.

“Ham or chicken?” Remus asked.

“Mmm, chicken!”

He passed the container with the chicken sandwich inside, and Sirius ripped into the package.

“Fank ‘oo,” he said through a mouthful of sandwich. Swallowing the bite he asked, “What would I do without you, Remus?”

“Learn to take care of yourself, I imagine.” Remus chuckled to himself. If only that were possible. Or if only I could learn to let you.

Sirius stretched his legs out with a sigh, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Silas doesn’t like me working all these hours.”

Ah, yes. Silas. Remus scarcely avoided rolling his eyes.

Silas was Sirius’ younger boyfriend who was studying something to do with animals. Remus wasn’t really sure because Sirius had never been very forthcoming with the details of his boyfriend’s profession. Over the last couple months in which their relationship had grown more serious, he had tried really hard to be nice to the young man despite the significant instinct he felt to be anything but.

Preferring to avoid Silas conversation, he gave Sirius a noncommittal, “Hm?” through his mouthful of ham sandwich. Even if he also thought Sirius was working too hard, he wasn’t going to admit out loud that he agreed with Silas.

“Yeah. Between his work stuff and me at the Flower Loft, it doesn’t leave much time or energy for … you know, boyfriend stuff.” Sirius shrugged and took another bite of sandwich.

Oh, Godric. Boyfriend stuff?! Remus was in agony. This was neither the time, nor the place to contemplate Sirius and…‘boyfriend stuff.’ How can I steer this subject away from Silas?

“Hem,” he coughed. “So, how’s the guitar playing?”

“Oh, man!” Sirius leaned forward with enthusiasm. “It’s awesome! Difficult as hell, but awesome!”

“What are you working on right now?” Remus inquired. He was eager to keep the conversation on a safe subject. Music was one of the few things, apart from floristry, in which Sirius had a true passion.

“‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis.”

And off Sirius went on a long-winded explanation about the ins and outs of music, and chord shapes, and who knew what else. Remus didn’t understand half of what Sirius said, but he enjoyed listening. Watching the way Sirius’ eyes would light up; the way his hand gestures would grow more wild when he got over-excited; the way his eyes would crinkle when he smiled...Remus liked it when Sirius was happy.

He was in awe of this warm and sweet man. Regardless of the tingle he felt inside himself anytime he was in close proximity to Sirius, he buried those feelings. It was safer that way. For both of them.

Sirius finished his sandwich in between pauses, and lit up a cigarette.

“That shit is terrible for you,” Remus admonished him for the millionth time.

“That’s what you keep telling me,” Sirius responded, blowing a puff of smoke up and away, so as to not offend Remus’ sensitivities.

It didn’t help. His senses were more delicate than the average person.

Sirius stood up and stretched his hands over his head. The front hem of his shirt came untucked from his jeans, and a sliver of tan abdomen was visible. Remus felt himself flush and he looked away.

“Thanks for the break, Remus. I have to get back though.” Sirius gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. “Flowers won’t arrange themselves, unfortunately.”

Remus nodded and looked at his watch as he stood. “I have an appointment coming in about ten minutes anyway, so I need to get back too.”

“What are you working on today?” Sirius asked as they began the walk back to their respective shops.

“Finishing a sleeve for an Irish fella. Started it almost a year ago.”

The pair reached the Loft. “Maybe one day I’ll let you do me,” Sirius said with a playful smirk.

Phrasing. “You figure out what you want, and let me know,” Remus responded as level as possible.

Sirius barked a laugh and opened the door to the shop. “See you later, Remus.”

Remus waved good-bye and went next door to his tattoo parlor. Once inside he shut the door and leaned his forehead against it.

“Fucking hell.”

Remus banged his head a few times against the door, hoping against hope that he could knock some sense into his skull. Does he say shit like that on purpose? Taking a breath, Remus stood up straight, and pulled his wand out of his jacket pocket. He checked that the gold suede curtains were pulled closed over the front bay window and gave a complicated wave of his wand. His tattooing equipment sprang to life and set themselves up just how he liked.

Even though Remus had chosen a corner of Muggle London to set up his shop, in no way did it mean he had abandoned magic. Separating himself from the magical world wasn’t without its drawbacks, and he had to be more careful about not breaking the Statue of Secrecy, but the change had been necessary. It wasn’t too bad now he was accustomed to it.

~~~~~

The afternoon passed without incident. The Irishman’s last sleeve session lasted a good couple hours, and Remus was proud of the finished product. He had a couple walk-ins later on, but nothing came of them. Slow day overall.

He was leaned back in a chair with his feet propped on the desk, flipping through the latest issue of Inked, when Sirius came through the door.

“You made a tattoo decision then? That was quick,” Remus joked.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “No. I came to see if I could buy you a bite from Potter’s.” Sirius shifted his feet with his hands in his pockets and looked down. “You got me some earlier and all.”

Remus studied the younger man. Why did he seem … embarrassed? Shy? “You don’t owe me for that,” he replied, with a wave of his hand. Remus closed the magazine and stood up.

“Well, then I want to.” Sirius smiled at Remus now. “My treat.”

Remus shrugged. “All right,” he said. “It’s been slow as hell here today anyway. Let’s go see what specials James and Lily have today.”

Remus locked the door to the tattoo parlor and the pair walked across the street to the Potter’s Wheel Cafe.

A/N: The name of Sirius’ flower shop comes from the name of the flower shop in my hometown. The Flower Loft was on Main Street, which wasn’t actually named “Main Street.” It was one of two highways that intersected the small town in which I went to public school, and made some of my life-long best friends. “Main Street” was the “main drag” -- as we small town folks say -- and it was where 90% of the town's businesses resided. This chapter is dedicated to my first friend: my little sister. She is not only my sister, a mother to my two adorable nephews, and sender of spicy Harry Potter memes. She is also my number one beta reader. Our perfectionist and competitive spirits were bred into us and she doesn’t let me get away with crap writing. I love ya, Sis! Thanks for reading my words.

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

#writersmonth2020 #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #alternate universe

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thedinanshiral · 4 years ago

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On the Evanuris

We know not nearly enough about the Evanuris, the ancient elvhen so-called gods, and what information we have is either myth, legend, or casual commentary by an undoubtedly biased contemporary source, Solas.

While this post was inspired by a particular line Solas says in Inquisition, it’s also been requested on Twitter so i’ll try my best. First a small disclaimer, I partially subscribe to the spirit origin theory, so i’ll start there. I’m presenting another theory based on it as well, so it’s fair to say it’s mostly wild speculation on my part (but I like it!)

At the end of All New, Faded for Her, when Solas returns to Skyhold he mentions to the Inquisitor he went to find a quiet place to sleep, dream and visit the place in the Fade where his Wisdom spirit friend used to be. Says he found it empty, “but there are stirrings of energty in the Void. Someday something new may grow there”. Which got me thinking, where do spirits come from?

Unlike those with a physical existence spirits aren't born, there's no Spirit Mommy and Spirit Daddy making Spirit Babies. Solas explains -without as much detail as i'd like- that once a Spirit “dies”, something remains and if the spirit was strong enough or inspiring enough, from what remains a new spirit may form that would inherit something of the former spirit but would not carry on its identity or memories.

So where do Spirits come from, originally? Chantry states it was the Maker, but i'm skipping that and jumping directly into creatio ex nihilo. Leaving aside the big old question of the origin of the Maker, I propose we discuss the Void a bit. People often think of the Void as an empty space or plane, the abscence of whatever, Nothing with a capital N, when it is also quite the contrary. The Void holds everything within. It's an Absolute and as such, it's everything you can think of and everything you can't think of too. It's raw unlimited potential.

Here’s a silly example: Imagine there's a chef who wants to create a new entry for their menu and have only a basket with 5 tomatos in it. They can be very creative but there will always be a limit to what one can prepare with only 5 tomatos. Now imagine this chef goes empty handed to the farmers' market; there they can pick up a variety of ingredients in whatever quantity and quality they like, and prepare many different meals.

The Maker is the Chef, the Void is the market. The Void is never truly empty, the emptyness is what one may bring into the Void but not the only thing the Void has to offer.

So maybe, just maybe, the Maker -assuming it's real- was the first spirit to form in the Void, maybe completely at random as the result of a combination of void energies, we can't know for sure. In the many creation myths of various cultures it's always a mystery how and why the first divine entities appear, in many cases it's just “and then, pop! There they were”, in others it's an act of “love”, as in the Whole being too much for/in itself breaks down into smaller fractions, generates itself a separate existence and then begins creating other forms as an expresion of the universal love that it is compelled to share with a multitude of life. Essentially all life in the universe is the Universe giving itself a big, big hug and having feelings. This form of “creation from nothing” also grants perspective, as the Absolute in producing other beings generates the possibility of different perspectives of itself.

With that said and tying up Solas’ words with the elvhen spirit origin theory, i’d say there’s a possibility the Void is where spirits originate from, weirdly enough. This could be supported even by Chantry teachings as per the Canticle of Andraste 14:11

Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls. From these emerald waters doth life begin anew.

The first “god” we hear of is the Sun. It being an early entity is evidenced in its lack of a proper name, as it's just “The Sun”, and father to the All-father, Elgar'nan. The Sun symbolises life, beginnings, the origin, as in the rising of a new day. The Sun may have been a first spirit, a concentration of pure, raw energy in the Void, and when the generation chain resulted in different beings apart from itself who could see a different aspect of the Sun, a negative and damaging one, the Sun was overthrown and the Evanuris, its children, rose in its place. The Sun wasn’t alone, however, there was also the Earth as a female and motherly figure, who doted on her son until the Sun out of jealousy and spite burnt everything to ashes, inciting Elgar’nan’s rage. From the tears of the Earth pooled into oceans rose Mythal as a new entity of reason to contrast with Elgarn’nan’s violent emotions. Together they restored the defeated Sun -establishing the day and night cycle – and all four restablished life and everyone lived happy forever.. Except not. Let’s say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

From the Sun and the Earth, Elgarn’nan and Mythal came into existence and according to the myths, they generated in turn other entities that eventually became the elvhen pantheon. Falon’din, Dirthamen, June, Sylaise, Andruil. How every Evanuris embodies or represents a different aspect of life also plays in this idea of an Absolute breaking itself up into its many components. This cascade effect doesn’t end there, as later on we learn from Ghilan’nain’s example that the Evanuris could elevate others to their same godly status.

As spirits directly descendant from the first one, the Evanuris were powerful and naturally the ones that followed came to see them as superior, divine. But as Geldauran says in their claim “There are no gods. There is only the subject and the object, the actor and the acted upon” , the Evanuris in all their power were blinded and in their perception of others as lesser beings they accepted no question of their place in the order of the world. They saw themselves at the top of the chain and not once doubted this. Perhaps the more they defined their individual identities in contrast to the others, the more they solidified into the physical world, the more “earthly” they became, more susceptible to material sensation and needs and desires, and grew more entitled and aggressive in how they took their claims over the world.

All this eventually lead to them “creating” (the Evanuris are after all called “Creators”) the elvhen, possibly more spirits of varying strengths and skills they saw could be used as servants. Some may have joined a physical world willingly, but others may have not, and no “god” would stand being refused by a lesser creature so, enter the vallaslin. Bonding magical marks, used to ground spirits and bound them in service to a particular Evanuris became proper slave markings later on as elvhen became “people” and developed a complex societal structure that expanded over two different planes of existence.

Vallaslin are blood markings, chances are they used lyrium and we know lyrium is the blood of titans; considering Dagna's experience of being tall as a mountain and thinking all the thoughts, we can imagine Titans are, similarly to the Sun, original spirits -or close enough-, entities who had not yet divided themselves into other aspects. So their blood, their nature, is in a way purer than that of the Evanuris, holds potentially more power within, and it would seem they lack distinct personalities, egos and all the nasty things that come with it. They simply existed as they were with no desire, no ambition to be more or do more. And their blood could bridge the physical existence the Evanuris had already mastered, with the spiritual existence they were possibly beginning to lose. Perhaps lyrium branding offered the possibility of bounding a spirit to the earthly plane without sacrificing its spiritual magical powers while simultaneously stripping them of the agency to use them, turning them into the tools the Evanuris needed to continue their rule.

We learn at the Shattered Library in Trespasser that elvhen and spirits were very familiar with each other, implying they had a common origin or nature, even that elvhen could choose to remain spirits, the fact they could sleep for centuries in Uthenera living in the Fade without their bodies dying would too indicate they're related somehow. The Evanuris are not specifically mentioned as retaking a spiritual form, it is however implied they were shapeshifters and favoured the form of massive powerful creatures who could exist both on ground and on air, dragons. Liminal creatures, much as they might have been themselves, neither here nor there. The dragon form was exclusively theirs, others could not “take the wings” and were punished/exiled for doing it.

The Forgotten ones may have been mirror aspects of the Evanuris who got, well, forgotten as they may have been way less popular among the people. The fact they were antagonising the Evanuris tells me they were on similar if not the same level of power/skills. The Forbidden ones could have been similar spirits-turned-people who “abandoned form”, ie returned to their spirit existence to escape the war of the Evanuris against the Forgotten Ones or the Titans. May have been elvhen servants, slaves, warriors who refused to fight a senseless war that only served the Evanuris ego and power hunger.

Then we have Solas, Fen'Harel, possibly also a powerful spirit perhaps summoned or recruited by Mythal, on similar level as the Evanuris and Forgotten ones, powerful enough to trick and imprison them all in two different levels of reality at a time when said levels knew very little distinction. He created the Veil. And while the Evanuris were trapped in the Black City, the Forgotten ones were left in “the Void”. So far his relationship to Mythal is unclear. He may have been a servant of hers, a guardian, her champion, we just don’t know yet, but it’s clear they were close. There’s a line from Cole in Trespasser “He did not want a body. But she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face ” . “He did not want a body but she asked him to come” sounds like a spirit being summoned. “He left a scar when he burned her off his face” , Solas not only has a scar on his forehead, but as Fen’Harel he erased the vallaslin of former slaves, and even offers to do it to a romanced Lavellan. Solas may have been a spirit summoned by Mythal who later for some reason decided to release himself from her service by erasing her vallaslin off his face. My guess is this may have happened after her death.

Whatever Solas’ origin is, he was powerful enough to reshape the structure of the world, and what once was all one plane became torn apart from itself. A physical world interwoven with the Fade and connected to the Void became stratified in one a strictly spiritual plane (Fade) above in the sky, a strictly unmutable physical plane (Thedas) below it, and an inaccesible abyss (Void) presumably somewhere in the underground. Still, it's interesting and worth noticing that even in Evanuris times the Void was below the rest of the world. (Andruil “descends” into the Void for her maddening hunting trips).

Next we have the issue of the Old Gods of Tevinter. It is believed the Old Gods have dragon forms that slumber in the underground and that they communicated with men through dreams, teaching them secrets of magic the then new human civilization used to build a powerful empire.

There are considerable similarities between the OG and the Evanuris, not just in number and attributes but I suspect also in nature.

Maybe, just maybe, the dragon forms were like mounts. Mindless creatures the Evanuris could possess, or maybe by getting trapped away from the physical world somehow the Evanuris had their spirit severed from their bodies, with their spirits trapped in the fade and their dragon bodies -that they most likely used for battle- parked in the Thedas underground garage. Remember ancient elvhen could separate spirit and body while sleeping without their bodies dying, when they entered Uthenera, and while that suspended state lasted, servants would tend to their sleeping bodies. Maybe that's what darkspawn originally were. Servants charged with looking after the Evanuris dragon bodies while not in use, trapped underground after the Veil was created and drove to madness like the rock wraiths of the primeval thaig, who later became darkspawn. By the time the Magister Sidereal reach the Black City the corruption, the Blight, already existed. The Blight exists since Evanuris times. For all we know the Blight is an inmmune response of Titans treating the elvhen as parasites/viruses attacking them, assimilating them somehow – as Titans/dwarves had a hivemind, so do the Darkspawn through the Archdemon's song-. If the dragons sleeping underground belonged to the Evanuris and had servants looking after them, i imagine being trapped in the Void for millenia, a place that even pre-Veil had corruption, must have affected them gravely.

It most likely took the Evanuris some time to recover after getting trapped away from the world by Solas. And when they finally gathered the strength to project through dreams, say they find human dreamers instead of their own people and learn the world they knew is destroyed, the elvhen are conquered, enslaved, abused, powerless. The elven people are no longer of use to the Evanuris so they turn their eyes and attention to the conquerors, the powerful ones, the ones they can use. So the Evanuris take on new identities as the Old Gods (as the humans wouldn’t adopt the same gods as the conquered, defeated people), and begin manipulating humans in dreams, sharing ancient powerful magic with them, proving they're real, guiding Tevinter into hegemony.

The Tevinter imperium becomes the spiritual successor of Elvhenan. Powerful empire ruled by mages under the banner of powerful entities built on the back of slaves and the abuse of magic falls and is replaced by....a powerful empire ruled by mages under the banner of powerful entities built on the back of slaves and the abuse of magic? Yeah.

The Evanuris played Tevinter, though, played nice and friendly for a while, built up that human trust in them, made them rely on them, only to suddenly and without any warning ghost them, pulling humans into despair, fear, anxiety, fear of abandonment, fear of losing all the power they had amassed. Until suddenly gods started talking again, and now humas were so terrified of losing them twice of course they'd do anything the gods asked of them without any doubts, of course they'd blindly follow their gods' requests no matter how outrageous or great. So Old God say “break open the Veil, hop on into the Fade and join us in power to rule as gods” and they just go for it.

It's possible the Evanuris wanted to possess the Magister Sidereal and that's why each old god's priest was present. But shit happens and everyone gets tainted. Now with the Veil temporarily broken it's also possible the Evanuris spirits were drawn to their dragon forms underground, unfortunately unable or too weak to awaken them themselves -possessing powerful mages, dreamers at that, would have been an entirely different story. So they use an ancient “connection” with the descendant of their servants, now turned darkspawn, compelling them to find them and dig them out at any cost.It's been said time and time again the darkspawn taint the Old God dragons and turn them into Archdemons but it's not entirely impossible the dragons are already tainted, and that's how they can connect with the darkspawn in the first place.

This would explain why Solas is so against eliminating the Old Gods, why Flemythal and Morrigan had knowledge of rituals to separate their souls from the dragons. I suspect the Old Gods ARE the Evanuris, or vessels of their spirits at the very least. Among the constellations found via astrariums there's one for each Old God, but also one called “Draconis” which doesn't match any Old God and is suspected to have been the representation of an 8th Old God that got taken down from hystory (there's one of a wolf as well..). The “god” that got eliminated was Mythal and of all Evanuris she's the one most strongly identified with and represented as a dragon. Not only that, the dragon in Draconis is one with a single tail body and its two wings open rising in flight, very reminiscing of the half-woman/half-dragon statues of Mythal where the lower female body is shown wearing a long skirt.

Side tracking a bit here but we know who from the Evanuris were problematic: Elgar'nan was too impulsive and violent, Falon'din was an attention seeking arse who relished so much in the worship he received he actively promoted war to increase the number of deaths and therefore the following he had as “guide of the dead”, Ghilan'nain was the elvhen equivalent of a mad scientist gene-splicing anything that moved, Andruil was a blood thirsty hunter and possibly also hunted for slave labour. Mythal was a judge and possibly the voice of conscience of all of them until perhaps they tired of hearing her draw lines for their antics and decided to take her off the picture for good, and Fen'Harel was most likely one of Mythal's champions/warriors/knights/guardians who got done with all the infighting that cost the life of his dear friend and was destroying their world. The remaining three don't really appear much in the lore available, Dirthamen is Falon'din's twin yet as god of secrets and knowledge (similar to Razikale, the Old God of Mystery, one of the two Archdemons left) there's not much known about him other than he loved his brother.

The ones we least know about are June and Sylaise. June god of craft and Sylaise Hearthkeeper were apparently a couple, married, and makes sense because much of crafting requires a constant well kept fire. I suspect they were on the neutral side and may have aided Fen'Harel in secret, because when you mix a god of crafts with a goddess of the hearth you get a forge and the Dread Wolf's base in Trespasser had an armory and ancient elven armor and weaponry were nicely designed. Solas doesn't have anything to say about them ever during the entire game, unlike how he reacts to Andruil and Falon'din, and unlike the Dalish myths of him with Ghilan'nain ...as far as i can recall there's nothing that links June and Sylaise or even Dirthamen with Fen'Harel, specifically. It's so clean a slate it's almost as if it was squaky cleaned on purpose to hide something...

And that’s all for now. It’s a lot to process, I know, my head hurts too but it’s finally out of it. I’m leaving a lot of minor details out because this is already long enough. In the near future i’ll hopefully analyse some characters like Ghilan’nain and Andruil individually.

Thanks for reading!

#Dragon Age #Evanuris #Fen'Harel #Mythal #Tevinter #Dragon Age 4

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violet-knox · 5 years ago

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Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff

Year 5 - Chapter 19

Summary: Your first game of the season commences as the stress of the school year continues to way down on you.

Word count: 2156

Previous Chapter - Chapter 1

Though Caroline’s obsession with winning had greatly intensified as the first game of the season approached, you were at least happy to see the teams focus shift off of you and your so called ‘betrayal’. She began training the team harder than before, having everyone, including yourself feeling just about ready to dose her morning pumpkin juice with a sleeping draught. You went to bed every night exhausted beyond belief, finding it really hard to muster up the energy you needed to get up early to meet with Severus.

No one seemed to be talking about anything but your upcoming game against Hufflepuff as the score between you two was very tight last year. The game you played last year was the longest you’d ever taken part of, and possibly even longest in a few decades, lasting a record-breaking twenty-one hours. You’d even heard rumors of the Headmaster debating with the head of houses if classes should be postponed or if putting the game on hold would be a better approach. Thankfully James caught the snitch just as Hufflepuff had brought their score a hundred and forty above yours, which meant you’d only won be ten points. Still it was enough to win you the Quidditch cup, so you’d never thought about how close the score really was, until now that is.

Neither team had changed their members much, so the anticipation to see who would prevail this time was tremendous. Caroline had informed your team that Hufflepuff only had two new members; a chaser in his fourth year, and a seeker who was only in second year. James scoffed at the idea of being beat by a second year, but Caroline was quick to tell him not to underestimate the young badger.

Personally, you were just glad that your first game wasn’t against Slytherin as they were always the most aggressive team and always left you feeling sore for two weeks straight. Not even the game against Hufflepuff last year left you feeling unable to carry your own weight the next day.

“Captains, please step forward and shake hands,” you watched as Caroline and Hufflepuff’s captain approached the center of the pitch and did as instructed. A friendly handshake was exchanged before they both walked back to join their teams.

As soon as they took their place in formation, Madam Hooch asked both teams to mount their brooms. You kicked off at the sound of her whistle and watched as the new Hufflepuff chaser caught the quaffle and flew towards the Gryffindor hoops.

Determined to prove your worth, you went after him a few feet below everyone else, hoping to catch him off guard. As you got closer, you began to gain height and quickly made your way towards him. When you flew up and shoved him to knock him off balance, he stumbled and the quaffle flew from his hands as he didn’t previously sense your presence. You caught it and made a sharp turn, heading towards the other side of the pitch.

“FANTASTIC STEAL MADE BY (Y/L/N) AS SHE HEADS TO THE HUFFLEPUFF HOOPS!” the commentator seemed more eager compared to your last game.

As you made your way over, you saw a bludger heading your way, but Caroline managed to intercept it, directing it towards a chaser who had intended on blocking your path. When you saw a clearing towards your left, you turned and quickly threw the quaffle at the unprotected hoop.

“AND (Y/L/N) TAKES THE HONOR OF MAKING THE FIRST GOAL OF THE GAME. TEN TO ZERO FOR GRYFFINDOR!”

You kept your focus on the quaffle as you did everything you could to intercept the opposing chasers. You noticed that the new chaser had a knack for flying a little too high which allowed you to sneak up on him quite a lot, causing an uproar from Gryffindor every time you stole the quaffle. The Hufflepuffs were tremendously good team players as they worked very well together, however, your team’s ambition and determination helped even the odds.

An hour into the game left both teams neck and neck as the score was a hundred and sixty to a hundred and thirty for Gryffindor. You were beginning to feel terribly exhausted and desperately needed the game to be over. Your focus began to drift to James, praying he would catch the snitch soon. You noticed Caroline getting more anxious as the game went on and she began shouting at James to end it.

Just as you had lost all hope that the game would ever end, you noticed the Hufflepuff seeker dive towards the base of the podium.

“JAMES!” you shouted, pointing at the young badger who you assumed had spotted the snitch.

James immediately flew towards her as he struggled to catch up. Even with one of the old school brooms, James had always managed to outfly every student who’d ever flown, but you could tell he was really struggling to fly fast enough to reach the snitch before the other seeker. Even with a broom as powerful as his, you just weren’t sure he’s speed was enough. But despite your doubts, James still managed to circle the arena as everyone had their eyes glued to the two seekers that seemed to intertwine with one another while they continued diving down, flying around the podium.

You heard a collective gasp from the crowd as both seekers hit the ground hard, stumbling on top of each other. You watched with anticipation as Madam Hooch blew her whistle, signifying the end of the game.

“Who caught it?” you heard Caroline say, not really directing her question towards anyone. It seemed everyone had the same question on their minds as you joined the others slowly flying towards the bottom of the podium.

As you flew down, seeing the sour look on James’ face, it became evident who had ended the game. Your eyes widened in horror as you turned to look at Caroline. It was clear that she was furious they had lost the game, and although you felt bad for James as he was about to get an earful from your captain, you couldn’t help but feel just as disappointed after you had tried so hard to win your first game.

“HUFFLEPUFF WINS TWO-HUNDRED AND EIGHTY TO ONE-HUNDRED AND SIXTY! WHAT A TREMENDOUS COME BACK! WHAT A N ASTOUNDING CATCH FROM THEIR NEW SEEKER!”

The Hufflepuffs all cheered when the commentator announced the final score, but all the noise around you became muffled as the loss of your first game began to sink in. You dismounted and joined your teammates as you all made your way to the changing rooms, awaiting the angry speech you all knew was coming.

Just as you got to the doors, you all paused and turned to see Caroline angrily rushing towards James as she pushed him up against the wall and began shouting at him. You quickly ran towards them, accompanied by two of your other teammates as you all attempted to pull Caroline off of him.

“Caroline, calm down, please!” you said trying to deescalate the situation. “Let’s go to the changing rooms, we can talk there!”

Caroline kept her gaze locked on James as one of your teammates escorted him to the changing rooms while you helped keep her back. Once James was out of sight you turned to her and saw her face brushed red with rage.

“Caroline, I know you’re mad and I get it, but it won’t help anyone if you attack James like that,” you had both hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her down as you spoke.

“You don’t understand (Y/N), this is not going to look good for recruiters!” She was speaking in a panicked voice, her tone scared you as you’d never heard her talk like this before.

“We still have two more games. We can make up the loss if we try hard enough,” you were trying to be optimistic, but you knew that winning the cup was going to be very difficult now as you had fallen a hundred and twenty points behind Hufflepuff and there was no way they weren’t going to win their next two games.

Caroline closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before she nodded in agreement. As she opened her eyes, she told you to join the rest of the team and ask them to stay put as she thought about their options. At least you’d managed to calm her down, though you had a feeling you’d surely regret the advice you’d just given her.

After changing, you waited for almost twenty minutes before Caroline entered the changing room. Silence immediately fell as all eyes turned to her, waiting to see what she would do or say next. You peered over at James who had been hanging his head in shame, not wanting to speak to anyone, and saw the fear in his eyes.

“Today was a tremendous lose,” began Caroline. “But as (Y/N) pointed out to me, we still have two more games to play and a lot of points to make up for. I’m scheduling practices on the weekends, and we will work until Gryffindor is back on top.”

Everyone groaned at the news of having to give up their weekends. Your shoulders fell as you began to feel the stress of exams creeping up on you. How were you going to balance studying with Quidditch if Caroline was going to force you to practice on weekends now too?

“Get some rest and eat well. I’ll see you all tomorrow,” and with that, she dismissed you all as she went to get changed herself.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you threw the strap of your duffle over your shoulder and made your exit. You dragged yourself away from the stadium, towards the black lake where you were to meet Severus. Each step felt heavy as you found yourself dragging your feet. Clearly todays lose weighed heavier on you than you’d previously imagined. You were never one for showing house-spirit, but you’d always taken pride in your contribution to win the House Cup, earning house points the best way you knew how; through your monumental skills in Quidditch.

“You played well,” he said as you approached him.

“Clearly not well enough,” you mumbled after sitting beside him under your tree. Severus had yet to experience your mood after losing a Quidditch match, but after seeing the look on your face, he knew it would take a lot to cheer you up.

“Last time I checked you were a chaser, not a seeker.”

You scoffed and rubbed your face in your hands before looking back up at him. It was a shame Potter hadn’t managed to bottle up his ego today and finish the game a little sooner rather than trying to show off on that broom of his. He always seemed to love gloating, acting like some famous Quidditch player that the crowd couldn’t get enough of and it wasn’t fair that you had to pay the price for his need to for attention.

“Caroline’s making us practice on the weekends now. I don’t think we will ever hear the end of it. If James doesn’t step up his game, he might not live to graduate because she will probably kill him.” You could tell your little hypothetical amused Severus as smile tugged on the corner of his lips.

“Well, it’s not like you’d be losing much if she did.” You could see that Severus was enjoying the predicament that James had gotten himself in, but you no longer had the energy to defend him as his arrogance in underestimating the Hufflepuff seeker cost you a great deal today.

“At least one good thing came out of this,” you said quietly, feeling guilty about what you were about to say next. “I don’t think Caroline will want to consider James as captain anymore. As long as I keep up what I’m doing, I think I have a real shot at the position.”

Severus smiled and praised you for your efforts during the game. “You did really well today. I’ve never seen you play so well.” He truly did mean the words he spoke. He’d in fact, did his best to focus on you, partly as a way to distract himself from watching Potter trying to impress Lily, but it was a little more than that. You were his friend after all, and it was only natural to want your friend to excel.

“Thanks,” you whispered shyly. “Dinner’s going to start soon. Come on,” you said as you stood up. “Let’s head to the Great Hall. I’m starving!”

Severus chuckled as you held your belly and blushed when your stomach grumbled. He followed your lead as you both walked downhill towards the castle, smiling to himself, proud you had done a much better job than Potter during today’s game.

Next Chapter

@hoppingsnape @dusk-realm @a-slytherin-sin

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years ago

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Love & Respect, pt.2 (G.D. AU)

Summary: Set in the first half of the fifteenth century in Italy, Grayson is the head of the family, choosing to marry for duty and ambition, finding himself torn and confused when his own wife refuses him. While he tries to make things right, Contessina doesn’t make it easy for him.

Warnings: ANGST

Word Count: 900

Love and Respect, pt. 1 (G.D. History AU)

Another ball had come and Contessina Y/N ended up on the sidelines alone. She watched her friends dance with envy, jealousy rotting her heart as her husband did not return from his supposed business obligation as of yet. She hasn't spoken to her husband Grayson for almost a full month, avoiding anything more than mere pleasantries and in presence of others. She drew up her shield, not yielding.

But tonight...on this night she wanted to draw a sword. She wanted to draw blood and punish Grayson for not coming to the ball. The only comforting part of it all is the fact his mistress did show, meaning he wasn't in bed with her, although he could be in bed with someone else entirely. However, the part that disturbed her is the fact that she wasn't invited by her, meaning she's either coming uninvited or Grayson extended her an invitation. Again, it meant he continued his cheating ways; the ways of a lying rake.

So, in interest of revenge, Contessina Y/N accepted once a charming young man offered her his hand to dance. The same man danced with her more than once, her spirits genuinely lifting as she found herself enjoying the evening.

Until the hand from hers disappeared and a new one, colder one, took its place.

Y/N glanced up only to see her fuming husband stand with grace, his back straight and his eyes set forward while his hand lighting broke from rules and captured hers.

“Why is your whore here?” Y/N didn’t spare her husband’s mistress the term she heard his mother say, hissing it out like poison. She noticed his lips part and his face darken as the muscles in his defined jaw clenched.

“I invited her husband.” The moment he answered the question, his voice impassive, the music started to play once more and while the rest of the world continue to dance, missing out on a marriage breaking, Y/N felt the need to run before she does something she cannot take back. She lets her hand fall from his, walking away in a fast pace, lifting her skirts.

Grayson sighed, his heart falling and his jaw clenching. He’s been trying for so long, been patient more than any man would, but he’s had it.

Running after her, evading his brother’s feeble attempt to hold him back, Grayson felt his heart beating out of his chest.

“Contessina!” He tried stopping her with a call, but she didn’t even turn around.

“Contessina! I just want to talk!” She didn’t even slow down.

“Damn it! Y/N!” And that’s when she stopped. Opening her chambers, she stepped inside, leaving the door open for him to follow. Out of breath, he watched her back rise and fall as she gathers her strength, struggling to breathe as well.

“You haven’t talked to me in a month. And I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. I haven’t seen her since the night we spoke. I haven’t even looked at another. I want you. Us. To have love instead of war in this marriage.” Grayson took a step closer, startling her into tilting her head to the side, revealing her lips are parted and her eyes are wide.

“You had my respect from the moment I met you. It’s also when you’ve planted a seed of love in my heart…it’s growing every day, but I fear I can’t survive if you do not help tend to it. The love I feel is tearing me apart.” Voice breaking, the great Grayson Dolan, the head of one of the most powerful Italian banks, finally admitted he isn’t powerful as he is – not when his wife is on the line.

And he truly did do everything she asked him of. He refused to hurt her any longer, his own happiness tied to hers. He wanted to give her time to forgive him, to want him, miss him, but after a month of coldness, Grayson needed reassurance.

“Once the ball ends, I will expect you in my chambers.” She spoke up, turning toward him enough to throw him a proper glance over her shoulder, just enough to make him weak in the knees.

“Your?” Grayson asks, smiling instantly at the progress made. Turning toward him entirely, Contessina Y/N narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Yes. Mine. We will do our talk more and do our duty as husband and wife. After that, the rest is up to you.” She states, her chin raised as is her head, defiant and proud as he loved her to be.

“I’m not opposed to that.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Grayson smiles as he casts his gaze to the ground instead of her, finding her lingering eyes too much to bear. Her eyes are more dangerous than swords, that much he could tell.

“Can I get a dance too, or is that too much to ask?” He raises a brow, smirking at her blushing cheeks. He outstretches his hand, palm open toward her with his hopes high.

Contessina smiles, finally accepting his hand in more than just a dance, but this marriage.

“We can arrange that.”

Tags: @heyits-claire @xalayx @fallinginlove-16 @godlydolans @accalialionheart @dolandolll

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan x reader #dolan twins #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan au #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fic

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band--psycho · 6 years ago

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Tony Stark’s daughter-part eighteen

Stephens POV

Luckily, with the help of Happy I was able to successfully remove the bullet from Peters chest, and thankfully there was no internal damage-now all we had to do was wait for the kid to wake up; and make sure he rested...which I already knew was gonna be a hardship, the kid had spirit, ambition, and ridiculously worried about Tony, I knew that he wasn’t going to stop trying to break him out of hydra anytime soon. I somewhat admired his courage.

“He’s still sleeping,” Happy said, as he came into the room.

“It’s to be expected, stop worrying, he’ll be fine,” I stated.

“I can’t believe Y/n/n would do that..” Happy grimaced.

“She didn’t, well no the real her, Hydra made her do that, she didn’t have any choice in it,” I explained. A short silence filled the air, as he sat down.

“What do you reckon they’re doing to the others?” Happy asked. But Stephen didn’t answer, he couldn’t be sure about what Hydra were doing to the avengers...all he knew is that it wasn’t good. Before anything else could be said, a portal opened, within a second, Strange and Happy went on the defensive-Happy even had a gun, however Stephen saw who came through the portal he sighed in relief.

“You took your time,” Stephen said.

“Well hello to you to Doctor,” Nick Fury joked.

“Sorry, we were just trying to persuade a whole army to join with us,” Wong said

“And did you succeed?” Stephen asked, and as if on que, two figures stepped through the portal.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Stephen said, looking at the two women who now stood infront of him.

“I’m Shurie, this is Okoye, you must be the man Fury has told us about,”Shurie said

“The man?” Stephen asked.

“The man who has a plan about how to get my brother out of whatever hell he’s currently in,”Shurie stated again; Stephen simply nodded.

“So what’s the plan,Doctor?” Fury asked.

Third person POV

Tony hadn’t said a word since his mini breakdown, no one really knew what to say, not even Steve; the time in these cells was taking their toll. Everyone normally just sat in silence, except for Vision and Wanda who tried their best to comfort each other after a torture session; the care that they both had for each other was becoming very clear to everyone in the cell. Nat was the most recent person to be taken for torturing, and that was over an hour ago, the worry on both Clint and Steves face was clear. Meanwhile Ta Challa just felt lost, he wasn’t part of this team-they were all so close and then there was him; he worried about his family, and his people, he wondered if the mad man who had imprisoned them had found Wakanda...if his mother and sister were even still alive, he hoped that they were, he thought that he would’ve felt something if they were dead...but that didn’t stop him from worrying.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said from the other side of the room.

“What for?” Ta Challa asked.

“This. None of this was your problem-you shouldn’t even be here.”Steve answered

“No. But here I am.” Ta challa replied.

“I know, and for that I am sorry,” Steve said.

“Captain, there’s no reason to apologize, I knew the risks when I helped you all go into hiding,” He replied. As he said that the door opened, and the Hydra guards dragged Nat in and threw her into her cell.

“Nat?Are you okay? ” Clint said, worry lacing his voice. She slowly sat up and nodded.

“We need to get out of here,” Steve sighed.

“And how do you propose we do that, Captain?” Vision asked.

“Cap, we can’t...not like this,” Clint said, looking at Nat.

“We’ve barely got enough energy to stand up let alone fight,” Wanda added.

“I know..but we can’t just sit here..”Steve said, Ta Challa nodded in agreement.

“He’s right; if we stay here much longer we’re gonna end up dying here,” Ta Challa said; causing all eyes to be on him.

“He’s right,” Tony said quietly.

“And there’s no way in hell I’m dying down here,” he continued, causing everyones attention to now go to him, he clearly sensed everyones confusion.

“He killed my little girl, he’s the reason Peter is dead...I’m not gonna let him kill all of us too, we’re Avengers. We avenge the fallen. Y/n/n. Peter...and the countless other people they’ve killed,” Tony stated.

“Well then, what’s the plan?” Ta Challa asked, and everyone looked to Steve, who was looking around the room.

“Oh, I’ve got an idea.” Steve said, with a small smile on his face.

Tag list: @xdsockmonkey @coolest-avenger @agentmstark @cinema21pdx-blog @teenagestudentducksblog @astro-medz @pizzabitchh18 @chloe-skywalker @fandom-hipster @anythingandeverythingmarvel @glicabhainn00 @manon-blackbeak @ioannalantzou @purplekitten30 @buckypotter @chloe-geoghegan1 @used-avocado @symonedg20 @thecrazybookwormgeek @blueswedebeatbox @mysticalsandwichseeker @thoughtfullyfurryangel

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rachel-hathburn · 5 years ago

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(( DOVE CAMERON, 23, SHE/HER, BISEXUAL)) [Y]? NO, THAT’S [PENELOPE WASH] BUT THEY CAN ALSO BE CALLED THE [THE WISEACRE ]. I’VE HEARD THEY CAN BE [DRIVEN && UPBEAT] BUT ALSO [JUDGEMENTAL && HIGH STRUNG]. THEY CALL OCEANSIDE THEIR HOME WHEN THEY AREN’T TOO BUSY BEING A/AN [ELEMENTARY TEACHER]. WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT THEM, YOU CAN ALWAYS PICTURE [SHARPENED PENCILS, THE FIRST BREAK OF DAWN, PAINTED NAILS]. – MEGAN, EST, SHE,HER –

LINK TO HER WANTED CONNECTIONS

>Penelope Wash| Pen, Penne, Penny, Princess P, PP, Poe<

Pronunciation

✎{PEN}-{EL}-{OPEE}

Age

✎23

Gender

✎FEMALE

Race

✎WHITE

Languages

✎ENGLISH- (A bit of french from one college class)

Height

✎5′8 (I know Dove is pretty short but I see Pen being on the taller side)

Birthday

✎ SEPTEMBER 15th

Zodiac

✎VIRGO

Blood Type

✎ O+,

Alignment

✎NEUTRAL/NEUTRAL

Spirit animal

✎COUGAR;

Leadership

Standing Behind Convictions

Confidence

Clever

Awareness

Learning Proper Use of Power

Messenger Between Human and Divine Beings

Balance

Steadfast

Responsible

Dependable

Family History

Penelope didn’t always live in her neighborhood or house she does now. She actually used to live in a far bigger house with her Mother, Father, and Older Sister. Her Mother and Father were the farthest thing from the nurturing type and treated their daughters like robots, always coding them to perform at an unachievable level; Her older sister Prim however didn’t find it so unachievable and was exactly what their parents always wanted. Prim went on to become a neurosurgeon and once she got to job moved out to Vermont, their parents deciding to follow with her. Penelope was left on her own basically at 19 and a half, with nothing but a crippling understanding that she was useless and began to forever deem herself that way. She tried to contact her parents and sister but seeing as none of them ever really took a liking to Pen, she never got a response back. Penelope was given everything in life, finically, and never really was taught how to support herself. It wasn’t long until the girl began getting heavily into the party scene which inevitably brings about a lot of negative inhibitions, however the girl struck gold with meeting the people she’d soon come to live with in the Animal House. These people soon became her family and she enrolled into a community college, got her degree in education, and landed an amazing teaching job at a near by school. ~• •~

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"Above all, be the heroine of your life. Not the victim." — Nora Ephron

Age of Appearance

✎Pen always tend to look a bit younger at first glance, especially without any make-up on, however her height and demeanor change that once you actually speak with the girl.

Body Type

✎Pen likes to take care of herself, she tends to keep busy with the chaotic house she lives in and with her work.

Skin Tone

✎Pale, blushes easily.

Complexion

✎ Freckles on the top of her nose, faint.

Birthmarks

✎She has a birthmark right under her rib-cage, someone once told her birthmarks are how you died in a past life, and she been convinced she was stabbed there ver since.

Scars

✎She has one large scar on her arm, a burn from back when the animal house began and she drunkenly tried to make stir-fry for everyone.

Cosmetics

✎It’s rare for someone to see Penelope with out her face done.

Outfit

✎She dress in a way that makes her look put together and classic. However she does step it up and go all out when going out on the town.

Accessories

✎She has a necklace from when she was little that never leaves her skin.

Body Modification

✎She has gotten lip fillers before and keeps up with them regularly.

Are they confident in the way they look:

✎Yes, Pen is secure in her appearance and takes pride in her looks.

~• •~

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“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”– Lao Tzu

General Temperament

✎Penelope is generally a bit cold off first impression, unless you’re close with her or are one of her students. However once she warms up to you the girl is very caring and attentive to your needs.

Happiness

✎Penelope finds her happiness through helping her students learn, she says theres nothing better than when a kid is struggling and then finally grasp the concepts, it is one of the most rewarding things to the girl and a big part of why she loves her job so much.

Sadness

✎There are many things that make the blonde sad, however only a few that really rock to her core. Poverty, kids coming in without supplies that are needed, and climate change are some of the more impersonal ones. Her family is 100% a home run of sadness.

Anger

✎Penelope gets angry when people are extremely reckless, which is ironic because she used to be the poster child for recklessness, I mean she is living in the animal house after all. But as she's grown up, the girl has done a big 360 and now is one of the most responsible people in the neighborhood. As she gotten to be the teacher to many of the children living around other close neighborhoods she finds it disrespectful when people are reckless outside of their own homes.

Confusion

✎Penelope is confused about what to do with her living situation. The girl wants to move and get a smaller place of her own but she knows some of her room-mates would fall off the deep end without the structure she brings to the house, and even though the girl puts on a tough mask, she is a softie at her core, especially for her room-mates who she deeply loves.

Favorites

Animal

✎She loves big cats. period.

Flower

✎forget-me-nots, when Pen was little the name used to make her cry, but they’ve come to be her favorite flower of all time.

Weather/Time of the day/Season

✎For someone living in California it’s hard to imagine her favorite weather not being clear and sunny; but yet, Pen likes the cold. Nothing makes her happier than when their little town finally starts to cool off a bit.

Food

✎Penelope is good a cooking, she can’t make anything extreme but she’s learned how to whip up a nice dinner and usually does so for her house.

Drink

✎Nothing makes Pen happier than a spiked lemon-aide.

Colour

✎Pink! If that isn’t obvious.

Country

✎All she has ever known is california, but the girl has always been fascinated by paris, hence why she took up french in college.

H͟a͟b͟i͟t͟s͟

Social skills

✎ Penelope is a natural at schmoozing and knowns how to put on charm when she wants to.

Insecurities

✎Penelope is insecure in that fact that she never feels proud of herself, her accomplishments never really feel like they’re enough and she is always striving to be useful or helpful to someone so she doesn’t get left behind. But she’d never say that out loud.

Hostility

✎Penelope tends to be very forward when she’s angry, but through working with elementary school kids she has learned how to calmly talk through her emotions, or so she tries.

Fears

✎Being completely useless.

Drives|Motivation

✎Penelope always feels like she has to prove herself, even if the only person she’s proving anything to is herself, and that keeps her driven and motivated.

Dreams|Aspirations

✎To have a family of her own and to make sure her students get the best education possible.

~• •~

First Words: ball

What emotions to the attribute to their childhood: rejection

Morning Person or Night Owl: morning person

Significant Childhood Memory: Pen’s parents bringing her and Prim to the amusement park because they both got straight As

Current Residence: Animal House

Occupation: Second grade teacher

What do they smell like: Vanilla and rose

What words or phrases do they overuse: “Okay- got it, thanks.”

Do they have a catch phrases: “Can you- not.”

What is their greatest accomplishment: Their job

What smells remind them of their childhood: The smell of pencils

What was their childhood ambition: To please her parents

Do they believe in love at first sight: No

Do they believe in true love: Yes

Have they ever had their heart broken: Yes

Are they ticklish: Very

Can they keep a secret: Absolutely

How do they display affection: Words of affirmation

Are they okay with PDA (Public Displays of affection): Yes, a tasteful amount

Are they a virgin: No

How do they want other people to view them: Successful

Are they competitive: Yes, very.

Deadly Sin : Envy

Heavenly Virtue: Diligence

Are they a minimalist or a hoarder: bit of a hoarder with classroom supplies

Where do they go to feel safe: in their room

Where do they go when they’re angry: the beach

What password do they use for everything: penpalpenny333

What is their favorite day of the week: wednesday

What do they keep in their pockets: spare erasers

What is their most treasured object: she has a necklace she wears 24/7

Do they have any pet peeves: slobs and slow walkers

How confident are they: 5/10

How generous are they: 10/10

How creative are they: 9/10

How honest are they: 6/10

How loyal are they: 8/10

Are they manipulative: She for sure can be but only if there is a calling for it

How predictable are they: Pen has her moments where the retired party animal will randomly appear but other than that her schedule is pretty regular

How do they flirt with people: by trying to appease them

Book smart or street smart: A healthy mix

Do they prefer being hot or cold: cold, pen loves the cool weather

What do they think is the worst thing you could do to another person: Abandon them

How do they deal with stress: By doing one million things at once

Are they comfortable crying in front of other: Only a select few, and even then its rather uncomfortable for her

What social justice issue would they be most passionate about: Proper education for less fortunate kids.

If they could change one thing about themselves what would it be: Pen would change her inner need to please and accommodate those around her.

Sexually Explicit Questions:

Are they a top or a bottom (Or do they switch): Definitely a secret bottom there is no doubt.

How important is sex to them: Like on a scale?? maybe a 6

Do they believe it is a mostly emotional act or a mostly physical act: Pen thinks it can be both

Turnons: Caring people, acts of service, when someone is trying not to smile.

Turnoffs: Ignorance, Toxic Masculinity, and people who hate children.

#os.intros #eee im so pumped #plzzz mssg me and plot w pen!!

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thesinglesjukebox · 5 years ago

Video

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LANA DEL REY - THE GREATEST

[7.71]

The discourse is lit...

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Lana Del Rey's embrace of decades-old American culture has always been a window into the present, so it's no surprise that her invocations of rock music and Dennis Wilson's deaths on "The Greatest" are signposts for our own inevitable demise. But even before she concludes the song with ruminations on California wildfires, Hawaii's false missile alert, and the possible necessity of colonizing Mars, you can sense the knowing dread in the midsong guitar solo and her affected vocalizing. She declares that she's "wasted" with poise and romantic longing, stretching the word out into a rallying cry; she intimates that debauchery is not just an expected response to contemporary anxieties, but an empowering action in times of seeming powerlessness. She channels that same depressing spirit in her semi-ironic delivery of the song's most memorable couplet -- "The culture is lit and I had a ball/I guess that I'm burned out after all" -- toying with its dual meaning to succinctly portray how escapism in end times isn't indecent behavior, but a necessary means toward survival and acceptance of one's fate. The sparse guitar strums and piano melodies that close out the song anticipate the somber eventuality that awaits us, but can that be much worse than right now? Worse than a time when "dancing with you" and "doing nothing" can be nostalgic pastimes due to never ending stress? Whatever the case, we'll collectively watch as it happens; it's the "live stream" that Lana hints at in the final line, and it'll be of cinematic proportions: "the greatest loss of them all." [9]

Joshua Copperman: "The culture is lit, and if this is it‚ I had a ball." This line is everything I hate about the aesthetics of this decade, but it IS the aesthetic of this decade, at least the latter half. Apart from rare, usually unintentional exceptions, something about 2010s voice-of-a-generation songs always felt pat, apparently because they had hope. We need songs for an age when everything is so overwhelming and impossible that there's nothing left to do but give up, give in, and bide your time until the flames -- the literal ones or the David Foster Wallace ones -- consume you too. (Who by fire, who by water vapor.) The cool, detached gloominess of "The Greatest" sends the opposite message to the one producer Jack Antonoff sent years ago; I don't want to get better, because there's no time left and no point. Lana was "doing nothing most of all," and that's why she's become the figurehead for this decade's music. Not Gaga. Not Beyonce. Not Lorde. Lana. Lana won the race to the bottom because she was there first; maybe a writer once took her sadness out of context, yet if someone said "I wish I was dead already" today, the response would not rise beyond a shrug of 'mood.' I don't even like this song that much as a song. It's slow and dreary, and that "culture is lit" line sounds hackneyed and pandering in its own way. But it's because of that artificiality that the line feels authentic, which was Lana's whole thing in the first place. Maybe I'm just bitter that she became so important when I wasn't looking. To paraphrase another, equally 2019 line, I hate to see it. Especially when I was so blind the whole time. [7]

Josh Buck: "I miss New York, and I Miss you. Me and my friends, we miss rock and roll." As Lana del Rey laments her Big Apple days, it feels like a lifetime since she was a Brooklyn Baby, singing Lou Reed with her boyfriend's band. She ventured out west to create an entire California fantasia and over a handful of albums, she built a cinematic version of the Golden State that was vibrant and full of endless sun and limitless romantic possibilities; even if it was all tinged with just a dab of noir-ish danger. It was a world as fully realized and teeming with mythology as a great novel. And "The Greatest" is where she watches it all burn down. "I'm facing the greatest loss of them all." California dreams are beautiful, until you have to wake up, so she sparks a cigarette and raises a glass to the ride. But if "The Greatest" is a moment of personal reflection, it's also a celebration. It's a toast to a new Greatest Generation. A generation that created and protested, that fucked and traveled and loved in spite of a planet threatening to burn them alive, and world leaders determined to end things even quicker. It's an anthem for thriving in the face of the apocalypse. It's my favorite single of 2019, and just thinking about it triggers a million competing emotions. If all somehow make it through this moment, we'll have one hell of a story, and a hell of a song to go with it. The culture is lit, but we had a ball. [10]

Michael Hong: A couple of cycles ago, that line probably would have drawn mass scorn from critics, but for now, it may very well be the lyric of the year. Part of that may be attributed to the way the culture has shifted their view on Lana Del Rey, but another part of it is that Lana sounds the most honest she's ever sounded. "The Greatest" is an ominous but sincere reflection of the current state of the world, and Lana no longer seems content with empty depictions of American touchstones. Lines like "I miss New York and I miss the music" still rely on those same symbols, but they now feel like lived experiences rather than empty nostalgic musings. Hell, Lana Del Rey even manages not only to make "me and my friends, we miss rock 'n' roll" work but sound like one of the most profound statements you've ever heard. Lana Del Rey's hushed vocals paired with the gauzy instrumental are quietly disarming, playing out like the cinematic zoom-out at the edge of the apocalypse. And if this is it, those final laments on the outro might be the greatest way to go out. [9]

Alfred Soto: She's not the greatest, nor does she think she's the greatest, so long as she thinks the "culture is lit" and she's "having a ball," whatever that means, but I suspect it means more than the guitar solo. Narcissism as plaint. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: The core Lana Del Rey problem is that she confuses narcotic with dramatic and droning with sweeping. "The Greatest" mitigates those faults a little, but only a little, and only by borrowing some faults from classic rock. The track also smothers what could have been a fine torch song in overproduction -- the culture can't be lit if you snuff it out with a million moles of echo. It shouldn't happen that I felt more genuine things about ghosts and missing things from a perfume newsletter than this. [4]

Ian Mathers: So here's the thing; I originally wrote about and scored this song before the more exhausting parts of the whole Lana Del Rey Conversation that engulfed Music Twitter last week had happened, and I was basically saying, yeah, the conversation is interesting and has some good points but I mostly receive the song outside of it and I just like that song (and generally do, with her singles). But then... it got worse. And between the artist herself showing her ass and all of the assorted takes, the thought of listening to any of LDR's music just got more and more enervating. Some would say it's unfair or incorrect to adjust my opinion of this song, or at least to admit that those events have, in fact, adjusted my opinion of the song. But I'm a guy who wrote a Master's thesis at least partly on the idea that the context around a work of art justifiably changes not only our aesthetic relationship to it but the ontological status of the work of art itself (which is not a physical thing, not even as data). The classical example is finding out, say, a painting is a forgery, but honestly this whole thing is a great example too. Doesn't make me outright dislike "The Greatest", but does legitimately move it from being a real bright spot to a song I enjoy that I need a bit of a break from. [7]

Stephen Eisermann: Hats off to Lana and Jack for really creating an atmosphere of nostalgia that you fall into the second you hit play. Lana's vocal is tender and understated, further reinforcing the sense of longing the track aims to create; but, hearing her sing the word "lit" and the Kanye West reference stand in stark contrast to that moody guitar lick and I... I just can't reconcile the two. [4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Lana Del Rey is deeply aware of the fickleness of the music industry. On Born to Die, that manifested in her almost-trolling approach -- aggravating, almost-rap cadences, weird production choices, even weirder lyrical ones -- that wormed its way into the pop consciousness. For her middle three albums, she refashioned herself as a thinking person's pop star, working with more respectable (and more male) figures like Dan Aurebach and A$AP Rocky as a way of positioning herself as adjacent to prestige. The music was better but also more boring. Now, with Norman Fucking Rockwell!, she has cashed all the checks that a decade of practice and following the rules of pop earn you. "The Greatest" is a thesis statement for the album's ambition. It's not just the title -- although that is a helpful indicator. It's everything: the classic rock guitars and big drum fills, the nostalgia for doing nothing of the lyrics, the way she sings them. On "The Greatest," Lana sounds done. Not exhausted, but complete, as if she could walk away from this all and not miss a second's worth of sleep. It's a big damn classic rock song that's aware of how bombastic it sounds, and yet its self-awareness does not undercut its narrative and sonic heft. It's the kind of song you can't make without making a lot of worse songs that dance around the same topics. But here, where it really counts? Lana nails it. It's a buzzer-beater of a song, rattling around the rim four times before falling in -- all the sweeter in glory for the bumps on the road before it. It's likely not the last Lana Del Rey single we'll review, but if it is, it's a fitting send-off: in response to all the fickleness of the industry, Lana rewrites her story on her own terms, and makes it sing. [9]

Jackie Powell: Norman Fucking Rockwell started as such a fascinating paradox, but didn't really continue building and evolving on what made its first third so successful. "The Greatest" is lyrically relatable and sonically beautiful. Jack Antonoff, being the wizard that he is, finds a way to wean Lana Del Rey of her noir and whining tendencies. He overdubs her potential for a beautiful vocal pairing it with brighter arrangements. It's pellucid and mellow but not a snoozefest. But its placement on this album really sold the track short. NFR loaded its most compelling tracks at the top of the project. Del Rey placed "The Greatest" after "Fuck it I love you" in a double feature of a music video, which where it should have been placed on the album. In the visual, Del Rey floats around and almost above her surroundings contemplating what's next. The haunting but gorgeously comforting guitar solo brings the listener along with Lana herself back down to earth. Lyrically and through its soft piano, the outro is what gives this song its weight and a sense of profundity. Her cultural references which include Kanye West's physical and emotional transformation and David Bowie's "Life on Mars" allow us to reflect on what we've become. Lana Del Rey does that here and on almost every record. I just wish "The Greatest" was given the proper stage to achieve the status of its moniker. [6]

Joshua Lu: The majority of "The Greatest" feels unbound by time, as Lana Del Rey reuses Extremely American words that apply to the '80s as much as today: Long Beach, New York, the Beach Boys, rock 'n' roll. Only the outro plants the song firmly in the current year -- with mentions of Mars, Kanye, global warming, and that time Hawaii thought it was about to get bombed -- and with this passage of time, these signifiers bring no joy to Lana anymore. Her sprawling sense of nihilism seeps through in her languid voice and the turgid, psychedelic guitar as she laments how her generation's time is ticking away. Tempting as it is, I'm wary to read into this song as some kind of political statement, in part because the epochs that Lana fetishizes were also rather shitty, and also because I think Lana herself wouldn't prefer this reading, as it would play into that "p" word she, erm, has expressed adversity to. Maybe that's the song's trap, that despite how alluring it is to try to ascribe some deeper meaning, it's better to just do what the song does: sit back, observe, and mourn. [8]

Alex Clifton: Lana Del Rey has a beautiful and occasionally overwhelming voice. It's haunting but for me it can be like ingesting too much cake in one sitting -- extremely rich to the point where it feels exhausting to listen to more than one song at a time. Having said that, "The Greatest" is a song that works well with Del Rey's vocals. When the first pre-chorus hits -- "those nights were on fire, we couldn't get higher" -- her breathiness feels less like an affect but sadder and more wistful, the awareness that she'll never be able to get that life back again. It's a grandiose song, strings and languid piano and a chorus of a dozen Lanas sighing "if this is it, I'm signing off," but for once the grandiosity of the production fits the message. My issue with Del Rey's persona back in the Born to Die days was that I couldn't quite make out who she was under all the artifice, flower crowns and American flags. I know that's the appeal of artists like Del Rey, whose entire careers are built off of specific personas (despite what they claim to the contrary), but I don't deal well with facades that are built that tall. Arguments about personas and performativity in music can quickly dissolve into arguments about authenticity and how much that matters to the music, and I want to stress that I don't care about authenticity in the slightest -- I just like the moments where artists aren't invincible but human. In "The Greatest" those walls crumble down and Del Rey revels in her sadness in a way that hits close to the heart. She's vulnerable and mourning over a real love rather than a fantasy, and for once I feel like persona or no, I understand the appeal of Lana Del Rey. [8]

Vikram Joseph: At 2am this morning I found myself in the smoky bedroom of a guy I hadn't met until two hours earlier, half a bottle of red wine deep and still high off the fumes of the MUNA show I'd just been to, discussing the aesthetics of Lana Del Rey's music videos (as a kind of emotional foreplay, I guess?). It struck me that this, right there, was actually a pretty good representation of Lana's aesthetic -- unlikely moments that shimmer at the fringes of reality, a doomed romanticism that bleeds into a laconic, blissful sort of nihilism. There's so much heightened emotion (close to melodrama) in her music, and yet there's a simplicity too in what she craves -- men, bars, California, sun -- that Vice described as a "revolutionary pleasure." It feels like an extremely LDR move to draw a direct parallel between lost love and the end of the actual fucking world, but it's testament to her songwriting, those aesthetics that she's worked so hard on, and the spellbinding, crystalline production on "The Greatest" that she pulls it off so completely. From the opening bars -- dignified piano chords, soft-focus acoustic guitars and cinematic strings -- it feels like an elegy; I can't help but see the crumbling, sunlit edifice of a gorgeous building when I hear this song, especially during that billowing, washed-out guitar solo, or the slow nuclear decay of the outro. "The Greatest" feels like a culmination, and a kind of closure. It's a veteran of an iconic club scene reading the memoirs of her golden years out loud, or the last time two people who once loved each other ever speak, or a beach scene at the end of civilisation. Sonically and aesthetically, it sounds cast adrift in time, and that's why it's so effective. It's the end of the world as we know it -- I don't think Lana feels fine, exactly, but maybe there's a certain comfort in finally knowing for sure that it was all for nothing. [10]

Will Adams: Lana Del Rey made a career writing elegies to American culture, which is what makes "The Greatest" as moving as it is heartbreaking. The patriotism of "American" has turned bitter. The sprawling luxury of "Shades of Cool" has fizzled. The worries expressed in "Coachella -- Woodstock In My Mind" have been realized in twisted, terrifying ways. So it makes sense that, after a few minutes of misty-eyed farewells presented with a smile ("I had a ball"), it all collapses to rubble. The gleaming classic rock evaporates into three descending chords. This, it turns out, is the greatest loss of all. Not rock 'n' roll, not a past lover, not Long Beach, not Kanye West, but everything. In that final minute, the song sinks to the ocean floor, the flaming city fading from view, the monuments and culture blurring into nothing. Del Rey is gone, too, as there's nothing left to say. There is nothing except the brutal end. [10]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#Lana Del Rey #pop #music #music review #writing

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purplerose244 · 6 years ago

Text

Our Reasons

Pairing: Nathaniel x Marc

Summary: After the last akuma attack Marc has ignored Nathaniel the all week. Now, during the Christmas party at their school, the artist wants to make things right. He can’t lose him

Words: 2013

Read it on the AO3

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That was Marinette’s plan, one hundred percent. Or Alix’. Or both, honestly. The former because of her undying passion for their destined collaboration – like she didn’t already have things planned with someone else –, the latter… an occasion to leave him alone to deal with an awkward situation, consequentially facing his problems? The roller-skater’s kind of fun.

And here he was, locked outside the school during the Christmas party, with no other company apart from some malfunctioning Christmas lights, a stray dog sniffing his way in front of the building and him.

Marc didn’t look happier for the situation, nervously rubbing his hands together. He still wore his typical fingerless gloves, even if the tips were completely red. His nose was stuffed into a fluffy green scarf, and it did not come out during the last five minutes spent in silence. He looked as uncomfortable as he was back when Nathaniel first meet him. Were they really all over again?

The stairs were cold. There wasn’t snow at least. Just what were the girls thinking? Make them froze to death just to make things right?

Was he really that hopeless?

“Hey… maybe we should talk about it.” Nathaniel faked a cough.

Marc shrugged, not looking up. His eyes were so lucid, hard to tell if for cold or the situation. Nathaniel was really glad his superhero counterpart didn’t have that eye color, or even trying to emulate that on his notebook would be impossible.

Alix knew better than anyone how stubborn he was on the matter, she had one of his street painting made of nothing but shades of green. No one even close to Marc’s. A challenge that costed her too much painting for losing it. She pouted for the entire week, getting herself together only under the promise to never bring up the matter ever again. She really couldn’t see it like Nathaniel could.

A car passed in front of the school, lights getting bigger then smaller as they got away.

“You have something to say?” Marc’s almost whispered voice was hurt and husky. Just how much he thought about it? All week? It’s been a week after all. Staring at the calendar every day gave him the assurance of it.

The Christmas party was continuing inside, the music was loud. Nino was probably having the time of his life. All of their friends, and they were out, in the cold. Alone. It was surprising how little he felt the unluckiness of it.

Nathaniel scratched the back of his head. Something to say. Maybe, but the right thing to say? No way to know it for sure. He didn’t want to make it worse than how it already was. What was really the problem? He just knew that, after the last akuma attack, Marc had ignored him like he suddenly disappeared from the world.

And it hurt. So bad.

Nathaniel cleared his voice.

“I guess. I mean, I know you’re upset. I get it, that akuma was huge, it basically destroyed the city. Trust me, I had my thinking about it too. But we’re both fine, we can get through it… right?” He smiled nervously, turning at him.

And Marc was finally looking back. Disbelief. His lips were slightly parted. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He shook his head. His eyes hardened, but he was fidgeting with his frozen fingers. It was probably painful.

“For a comic.”

Nathaniel blinked.

“What…?”

“Nathaniel, you risked your life for a comic book! That is not okay, no matter how much you pretend it is!” Marc shivered. “I just… do you have any idea how scared I was when you did that? I get it, it’s our work, but if it wasn’t for Ladybug and Chat Noir you wouldn’t be here! And you still think you did nothing wrong, this is why I’m angry!” He went silent, his face was incredibly red, his eyes reflecting the Christmas lights.

Nathaniel felt the world disappear. Oh. Oh yeah.

He ran towards it. While everybody was escaping from that giant thing, he went straight towards it. Because of a comic.

The akuma was just a middle-age woman that couldn’t get over the Christmas shopping stress apparently – he got the information from Alya afterward, it was good material for their comic series. A giant ant busy accumulating all the stuff she could find inside her, getting bigger and bigger, to the point she was devastating the city just by walking in.

When it happened, they were hanging out in the city. Even if neither of them was a never-ending source of Christmas spirit, they loved getting inspired just by the feeling of it. The invisible atmosphere and warm of the holiday.

It was something they had in common. Just another thing they had in common.

Then, the attack.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”. Nathaniel lowered his head.

The writer sniffed, hiding more of his face in the scarf. He closed his eyes.

“You put yourself in danger like that, without saying a word. Do you have any idea how scared I was when I lost you in the crowd? The entire city was crumbling, a-and I was f-frozen on the spot with n-no idea of what to d-do…” His shoulders were trembling. In his usual closed pose, he looked way smaller than how he really was.

Nathaniel felt a painful press in his chest. Slowly he reached for his hands, bringing them together into his gloved ones. He didn’t look up, concentrating on those iced tips.

“I-I didn’t mean to make you this worried.”

Marc shook his head. Tears immediately fell.

“What was the point? We can make thousands of comics together, one less one more, it doesn’t matter! But we won’t if something happens to you! What if Ladybug didn’t grab you in time?? What if you got hurt, of worse?! I don’t want that!! I don’t wanna be alone now that I have you!!” He gasped, like he got scared of his own raised tone. “S-sorry, I… forget that, I-I didn’t want to put it onto you.” His shoulders were shivering terribly.

Nathaniel felt his entire body aching. He needed to do something. Anything. So he let go of his hands and hugged him around the shoulders. His heartbeat was getting faster, he could hear it in his head, right near another really loud one. He closed his eyes, hoping that it wasn’t too much, that even if Marc was angry and shaking like a leaf it didn’t mean every bond between them was lost.

He felt a wave of relief when the writer reached for his back, leaning his chin so close to Nathaniel’s neck. He could feel those black hair tickling his ear, and the scarf slightly brushing his skin. It sent a wave of warm all over him.

Nathaniel smiled.

“You’re too nice.”

The cutest squeak followed.

“W-what?! I’m just…”

“For real. What are you doing with someone like me?” Marc definitely wanted to protest, but maybe his low tone made him quiet. “It came to my mind at some point. It was all because of Marinette that we ended up working together, otherwise we wouldn’t even know each other. If it wasn’t for our shared interests… for a comic…” Nathaniel swallowed, his throat was getting dry. He breathed, a white cloud came out of his mouth.

The writer moved his head a little, accidentally brushing his lips onto his neck. His bones melted all together, so he instinctively closed his eyes.

“What are you saying?” Marc’s voice got low and intense.

Nathaniel swallowed. After knowing him they spent so much time together. Being alone an entire week had gave space to unpleasant thoughts.

“I gave you a hard time accusing you when we met. I turned you into an akuma. And now I even made you so angry you ignored me. You, with all the people! The only reason I can be around you is my work, and that’s us! That’s the only reason why we are together!” Nathaniel hold Marc closer, his arms shaking. “So… when I realized I dropped the comic, I panicked. I thought that you were going to hate me for losing it, that you would’ve realized that there is no other reason we see each other so frequently. I didn’t want to lose you. And now that I say it it’s really stupid, you’re not like that.” He sighed. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I really am.” Nathaniel tried to break to hug, too ashamed and sorry for himself to keep the contact.

He never had a reason for drawing. It was his everything, hobby, passion, ambition, a part of him like an eye or a leg. Now it brought him someone special, in a way that made his heart shaking for fear and happiness. He couldn’t lose it.

Marc suddenly took his hands instead. His eyes weren’t gloomy anymore, just vivid, bright. His cheeks were completely red.

“You’re right. There’s no other reason.”

It felt like a slap. Nathaniel lowered his eyes.

“Y-yeah. I guess it’s just a fact, eheh.” Marc was still staring intensely at him. “What?”

The writer swallowed. He slowly moved closer, keeping eye contact even if his eyelids were shaking. The Christmas lights reflected in his green lakes.

“But I want other reasons.”

“Huh?”

Marc smiled, the world lightened up.

“I love seeing you and working together on our comics, it feels like I’m accomplishing something amazing. Like putting together pieces that are naturally meant to be close. But… b-but it’s not just that.” He looked at his hands. “Even when I didn’t know you I was into your art, it spoke to me, inspiring me to get better at what I do too. And I admire you for having so many good friends, something I always have a hard time finding. A-also, the thing about getting inspired by the city, I’m glad it’s not silly since you do that too! And, a-and…” He bit his lip, his entire face was the equivalent of a Christmas light now.

Nathaniel found himself in awe, unable to say a think, fearing he would stop talking. But he did, Marc looked stuck on his own words. The artist slid some more, brushing their hips together.

“Marc?”

“I… I think you’re really handsome. I-I know, it’s shallow! But I thought about it since I first met you, it’s what I really think!” He breathed out, sending hot air on their hands. “I’ll never get tired of working with you, I’m sure. But I want more reasons to see you, to hang out and talk… o-or whatever you wanna do, really!” Marc swallowed hard, shily spying the other’s reaction. “What… do you think about it?”

His cheeks and nose were completely red, his lips tense. His pupils kept moving, like he didn’t know where to look on his face. And the green. No grass, no mint, no pistachio. Even saying green oceans would be reductive.

Nathaniel felt himself on fire, from the frozen stairs he was sitting on to his fingers intertwined with Marc’s. His mind went blank. Is this really happening? A wave of excitement made him shiver. Did he really ask that? His face burnt. Is this going to happen? He locked eyes with the shy, terrified guy in front of him, so close he didn’t realize he was.

The artist reached for his cheek, making him squeak. No looking back. No useless thoughts in between. He leaned and kissed him on those red, cold and cracked lips. Marc’s hand gave him a hard, surprised squeeze, only to relax right after in a dreamy sound. It felt like flying with no body or worries. The winter wasn’t on them anymore. Another car passed through, the light barely touched them. The Christmas lights turned off for just a moment.

When Nathaniel found himself enough to step back, he looked right into Marc’s half lidden eyes, lips parted and still slightly humid. He smiled, and the writer mimicked him.

“I would like that.”

He wanted more reasons too.

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Hello everybody! Here’s my piece for the Miraculous Ladybug Secret Santa! So brilliantly late ^^”

This is for you, @findmeinthevoid, I’m really sorry I didn’t post it earlier! But I was just a tiny bit four hours away from home :P Hopefully you enjoyed your Christmas as much as the end of the year! Happy Holidays! ^ ^

Between your ships I went for a cute Nathaniel x Marc a little fluffy with some angst, because you asked for it and also because I think these two works well because they had to deal with a pretty hard start. Also Alix is super cool and I couldn’t avoid adding some bro moments <3

Well, this is it! I really hope you liked this! ^ ^

Thanks a lot @mlsecretsanta for hosting this event, I had a lot of fun! Happy holidays to you, as well as everyone else!

See ya!! ;)

#miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #mlsecretsanta 2k18 #nathaniel kurtzberg #marc anciel #alix kubdel #marinette dupain cheng

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magicalsalamander · 6 years ago

Text

Aurelius Part 3

Pairing: BTS Namjoon ⇆ Reader

Genre: Werewolf | Fluff | Angst | Smut [later] |

Summary: When the daughter of the secretary for the Minister for Wolf and Canine relations is the last living member of her clan, she must find a way to avenge her family. She must find a way to put an end to the hunters whose sole purpose is to cleanse the world of werewolves. The golden one hasn’t forgotten. Will she be able to get the revenge she needs?

Words: 8.7 K

Warnings: Rated Mature; explicit themes.

A/N: Orig post: 05|31| 2018; Updated intro 12|12|19. Part of the KLF Universe.

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The solutions in the bottles varied from iridescent to deep, molten tar. I trailed my fingers over the bottles labels reading them out to myself in my mind. I’d rather mess up the pronunciation in my thoughts than verbally. Mama Luna didn’t have to look away from what she was doing, “stop touching things, you’re going to knock something over.” I rolled my eyes thinking Mama Luna didn’t notice, alas I wasn’t as sneaky as I thought. A swift swap to the back of my head and a submissive whine later I was reminded of my place. She dusted off her hands in satisfaction continuing about her business. That was a type of intuition that can only be earned with time; she didn’t need to see, but she could feel the snarky attitude. It was all lighthearted though. I’ve learned to appreciate her scolding, she only did it because she cared. I scrunched up my nose rubbing away the pain muttering out an apology.

“Namjoon just looks at things and they break. You’ve been here a month, and you still haven’t learned the motto of this house? Need I remind you ‘heart of a wolf, but tread cautiously like a hare’ Aure?” Aviva walked into the room with a fresh set of medical grade towels out of the laundry. I scrunched up my expression, resisting the urge to stick my tongue out playfully. Mama Luna’s conditioning was working perfectly. In the last few weeks, I’ve come out of my room more; Mama Luna had been letting me follow her around (then trailed by Aviva). In truth, she seemed to enjoy my company more than she let on. I’ve wanted to pay back their kindness by at least doing the little things around here. I’ve come to really enjoy Aviva’s company and found myself enjoying her lingering around me. Namjoon is often gone the majority of the time with his father preparing to be the next Alpha and Minister. Honestly the distance made you feel better to some degree, the whole mate thing was still overwhelming.

I took a towel from the basket and began folding. It was an obligation that each mate knew how to perform basic first aid, so here I was in the infirmary. I’ve already learned dressing and cleaning, hands only CPR, and the Heimlich maneuver. I purred at the compliments of being a fast learner and the best at it from Mama Luna. I had something I could be proud about. The last standard already came in handy when Namjoon got too excited about some freshly cut strawberries and swallowed a large one whole. Even after he cleared his throat I held onto him, only releasing with a blush flourishing when he turned in my arms to thank me.

During the big “interview” when I sat down with Mama Luna, Alpha Kim, and Namjoon, I told them the story line I rehearsed. A lie sprinkled amongst a deeper truth. They deserved that much, because I don’t deserve them. The healed bullet wound was enough to back the story up. I was given an ultimatum afterwards stay or leave. There was no obligation or bribing to stay, however, since I was Namjoon’s mate it would be conditional; but I was under their protection as long as I remained in this town, mate or no mate. The look on Namjoon’s face when his father uttered the option to leave would be something I can’t forget. I could see the glimmer of red in his eyes, but he rapidly blinked it away. It was odd, how I wanted to comfort him with promises, but I stopped myself before they were just sweet nothings.

I decided…to stay. At least until I could find a footing for myself, a way to distance myself from the Hunters and this pack. I hated to admit it, but I liked it here. I wanted to know what it feels like to have a community—family—again. I was still getting used to these emotions that came along with being a mate and surrounded by other wolves. Especially since this pack was so open with their emotions and affection towards each other. I just needed a safe spot to process it all before I threw myself back out there.

I paused as I was folding a towel but picked up again holding my tongue. I’ve had so many questions regarding what we were, I was a wolf, a werewolf to supernaturalist, but I knew nothing of my kind. Mama Luna, again, sensed the change in my demeanor, “spit it out child.”

I stuttered meeting the ends of the towel at the wrong location. I licked my lips feeling suddenly watched. I peered over at the two curious women looking at me. I finish folding the towel but held it my hand momentarily before placing it in a separate basket. “What’s exactly a mate? Why do we have them?”

A soft smile caressed Mama’s lips as she adjusted herself in her seat. She continued folding as if this was a story she’s told many times. Aviva’s eyes glimmered like a child being read a bedtime story. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to hear this!” Aviva scooted closer to me intertwining her hand in mine squealing in happiness. I huffed a laugh then pinched her cheek out but soothed it afterwards. She was too much sometimes.

Mama Luna’s brown eyes glimmered tiny golden flakes. Her eyes flickered until they were a swirling metallic gold. They lost focus, glazing overs as if the ancestors took over to tell stories of ancient times.

“The Universe created the gods, but we are the children of the Moon and the Sun.

When the Universe was at young age the gods roamed chaotically, spirits floated about having no true shape or place in the universe. The Sun questioned the universe why the world was like this, but the universe was unresponsive. Years of civil battle waged between gods and the universe. Some protesting that there was never to be order, then the other half arguing that order should be kept. The Sun clashed and grew, his passion and ambition never dying. Eventually he was the one who pulled the Universe together. He gave planets their shape, containing the spirits and giving them land to rule as a compromise. He became the leader of the universe.

The planets were content, although it took centuries and millennium for the residual angst to settle. They eventually aligned with the Sun.

Amongst the universe were two sisters Earth and Venus. The twin sisters were close, but Earth grew lonely from the physical distance with her sister. She pulled bits and pieces of herself, even plucking from the universe around her, to create a small companion: the Moon.

The Moon was a gentle spirit who was kind, and humble. She gave the meaning to the word maternally by taking care of the Earth, giving her comfort like a mother would. The guide the universe didn’t know it needed.

The Earth wasn’t satisfied with just the Moon, she asked the Sun and her most trusted Moon for more. To satisfy the ever gluttonous spirit, the Sun created beings like humans, salamanders, and scorpions. The Moon created creatures such as the whales, bears, and the wolves. Finally the Earth was then balanced, content with her creatures.

At every sunrise and sunset, the Moon and the Sun would meet in passing. At first the Sun didn’t take notice to the Moon, but when he noticed the new satellite in the short passing a new sense of interesting peaked in him. In those five minutes of exchanging skies, the sun would tease the Moon about her gentle passive ways; accusing her of her creating too many preys. She would tease him about his traditional and arrogant attitude; accusing him of creating too many predators.

Hundreds, and thousands of dusks and dawns passed, and the bickering never ended. However, the days when she couldn’t see him was her darkest. The shadow of Earth casted a shadow on the Moon in darkness every twenty-nine days hiding her from the universe. Those were her loneliest days when she didn’t even have Earth to rely on. At first, he would wait for her to show, but she would never show up. He believed he was content just watching over her, teasing her, but he couldn’t defuse the emptiness he felt when she wasn’t in front of him. However, when she emerged from her darkness, he felt renewed in his ambitions. He called the occurrence the New Moon, a beautiful sight every cycle feeling renewed every time she returned.

They had this indefinable physical and emotional pull towards eachother; like they had a separate unique gravitation pull just between them both. It was unlike anything in the universe.

The Moon sought out the Sun at sunrise and the Sun searched for his rising Moon every dusk. It became this push and pull harmony. They never wanted to spend another precious moment without the other. It was natural. It was gravity. It was simply meant to be.

She was his other half and he hers.

As creators they wanted something together, a creation of equal parts to represent their love; a son of the Moon and Sun.

He said give him an ego, but she said make him virtuous. A born leader.

She said give him the ability to be nurturing, but he said make him disciplined. A lover.

He said give him strength, but she said make him pensive. A scholar.

He said make him loyal, but she said make him intrinsic. A trustworthiness.

Their son.

It was a blessing, yet a curse the dynamic being they created. The wishes swirled amongst the molding, the clay of life, and there emerged from the wishes a half man-half wolf. The most empathetic and emotional creature the Sun could create: a human. The strongest, but wisest beast the Moon could create: a wolf. Their son, the lycanthrope.

His years on Earth weren’t always joyful. He loved to jump, find new adventures, and feel the soil under his paws when he transformed. The other sons and daughters of the Sun rejected him for his wolf counter. The children of the Moon rejected him for his humanity and charisma. The lycanthrope roamed the forest alone, his only companions were his mother and father. He watched his brothers and sisters find love and a community, but he was alone.

The cave he resided in was enough for two, but he managed alone. On the night of a hot, humid summer night, he heard the chirping of the crickets calling to their mate. He sat at the entrance of his cave howling longingly into the night hoping that a mate would hear him. He often felt envious that even his parents had eachother, but he had no one.

His mother heard his cries at night, and when his howls grew louder and longer she stepped away from the moon to come down to Earth. She watched him howl until he went back into his cave to sleep alone. It reminded her of the times of the new moon when she couldn’t see the Sun. Tears streamed down her face not realizing the unforeseen mistake they’ve made. They’ve been selfish in creating a singular being unlike anything they’ve done.

She returned to the moon and at sunrise she spoke to the Sun of their son’s loneliness. He refused the idea of a companion, the idea unfathomable to create a perfect match for their immortal son. Their son was the ultimate combination, why would he want more than he was already given? She persuaded her love for days, ‘my love, as the leader of the universe you should know that nothing is done alone. The world is full of opposites. You are my Sun, and I’m your Moon. Let our son have his other half.’ Her words finally dug through enough of his stubbornness until finally the traditional Sun bent to the Moon.

She asked Venus on her knees, ‘please, Venus, give me some love and beauty for my son. Your sister, Earth, needs it.’ The twin to Earth looked down upon the Moon, for she never knew the pleasures of praises as she has no moons. She sat up from her throne wanting to brush the Moon off, but the Moon bowed deeper. ‘Please, Venus! Please look humbly upon us!’

Seeing the desperation in the Moon’s eyes she searched inside her heart, opening her clasped hands to a reveal a golden pearl. ‘Look kindly upon it and it will do you well.’ The Moon’s thanks and praises flooded from her lips. The Moon vowed to always praise her, to bow at the temple of Venus, and promising that the creatures of Earth to do so as well.

At the next turn of the full moon she asked the Sun for molten fire to drop the golden pearl into. She poured water atop, solidifying it to a harden glowing star. She gently took the star in her hands while the Sun blessed it, and the new spirit hummed in their hands appreciatively. She whispered to it, ‘please, take care of our son.’ She let the star fall from the Moon’s surface towards Earth.

The falling star fell onto the surface of Earth near the threshold of his cave. From the crater arose a celestial woman, a form created in the image of Venus. A soft amber glowed about her as she emerged.

He stepped out from his cave, growling while holding his arm up over his eyes blinking at bright light. Who dared to disturb his sleep!

His jaw nearly fell out of its sockets as he lowered his protective arm to gaze at the goddess before him. His wolfen tail stilled behind him, his canine ears pinning to his head, he felt oddly submissive to the woman’s beauty. Her sweet scent sent ripples of pleasure up his spine. Her mere presence was electrical fanning over his skin. It was anything unlike he’s felt before. She was the paint covering his canvas in a new sensational color, an unforeseen image.

He felt the darkness of his cave light up as she stalked forward, keeping her planetary golden eyes on him. A beautiful smile spread across her strawberry lips reaching her eyes. Her long, delicate fingers trailed along his cheek bones and a content rumble trembled in his chest. Giggling at his eager attitude, her curious fingers didn’t stop as her eyes landed on his canine ears. To others he was a fearsome creature, he was considered brutish in his features with narrowing crimson eyes. He was a walking monster, an outcast, but she treated him like he was a precious treasure. There was nothing but adoration from her gestures and expressions.

There was this odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, a pull, a need to hold her in his arms forever.

He leaned into her touch, a warmth he never knew could exist. ‘What’s your name?’ His voice came out steady compared to what he was feeling internally.

‘Luna, and yours?’ Her voice! Her voice was like an angel, he was a puppy in front of her. He wanted to howl in celebration!

‘Alpha.’ He closed his eyes as little droplets of saline rolled down his cheek and touching her adoring fingers.

‘Alpha, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?’ He unhinged his reduced form bringing her into his toned arms and chest. She didn’t fight him on it, instead bringing her small arms around him to fall in place against him. She smoothed her soft hands against his bare back.

His ears flat for another reason, ‘please, don’t leave me Luna.’

Luna hugged him tight, feeling the vibrations of his purrs tingle all the way to her marrow. ‘Alpha, I’m yours and you are mine.’

He nuzzled into her hair, ‘…my mate.’”

Mama Luna’s lucid tone faded as her story came to an end. Her overall being taking on a less dreamy tone and her eyes returned to its warm brown. “They were the first mates. It’s been tradition, something passed on from the celestials, that there is another half to everyone. It’s something granted—gifted—to us mortals by the Gods.”

Aviva broke the lucidity by chiming in, “what a sucker. Who would’ve thought the first Alpha was a big cry baby?” I couldn’t help but laugh, of all things she took from the that she had to be the one to point that out.

Mama Luna decided to toss a towel towards the unmated wolf, “you laugh now, but wait until you find your mate.”

She rolled her eyes, but I whispered to her, “tread carefully little rabbit.” I moved out of the way quickly by sitting back before a wave of the once folded towels engulfed Aviva. I busted out laughing, the story may be folklore and something silly generations passed down but I felt glad to know a bit of our history. It still left me with many questions, “but that still doesn’t answer what exactly is a mate.”

Mama Luna turned towards you, “child, were you not listening? It’s your other half, someone that compliments you. The duty of mates is to comfort and love eachother unconditionally.” I nodded along the weight of her words were feathering my brain, not quite settling or tangible.

In the end mates were something innate, something unavoidable. It was something I needed to come to accept eventually…unconditionally.

The day carried on with some form of routine. At evening, like clockwork, Alpha Kim and Namjoon came home from the Ministry. I bookmarked my place in the book I struggled to put down going to greet the to-be-Alpha and the Alpha out of respect. However, as I was opening my door Namjoon’s was slamming shut. I could hear the rumbles and then a thrash of something being knocked over. It didn’t sound accidental, the angry rumble that followed afterwards were visceral. I felt the nausea of anger, the strain and stress on my own shoulders. All be it fraction of what he was feeling, but it made my wolf whine instincts working their way up naturally.

I bit my lip, taking a step into the hall closing my door behind me. I knocked on his door in three solid rasp, “…Namjoon?” There wasn’t a response, it went silent on the other side of the door, but I could hear the huffs and puffs coming from his labored breathing. As a werewolf our lung capacity was extensive, so to have labored breathing there must be something seriously off. He seemed to be attempting to calm himself down. I didn’t want to push him, give him the same respect he gave me to open up when I wanted to.

I was about to return back to my room when a husky voice sounded, “yes?”

I turned back towards the door stepping closer even though I knew he had wolf hearing. “Can I come in?” A grunt sounded at the other side and I depressed the handle stepping into the dark room. Through the darkness and orange glow filtering through the room, I saw two red eyes against the blackness staring at me. I shut the door, opting for privacy, engulfing the room in a filtered marmalade glow from the curtains.

It was just him and I. I didn’t step away from my post by the door, not knowing how the Alpha would react in his turmoil. He didn’t seem to be his gentle, logical self. “Are you okay?” He whined at the sound of my voice, his humanistic side fighting against the feral spectrum. He closed his eyes and I could see the shadow nodding.

I took this as a go ahead to step closer until I was almost brushing my legs against his knees. I could feel him radiating from even a foot away. “Would you like to talk about it?” As if I wasn’t in control of my own limbs instead letting my other half take over, I threaded my fingers through his hair brushing it away from his face wanting to see his expression clear.

Another whine left him as he finally blinked away a majority of the redness swirling in his irises. “Today…in the meeting… just…those,” he stopped himself short feeling himself struggle to get the taboo word out of his mouth. I smoothed against his scalp once more, a silent encouragement for him to continue or stop. He breathed in deeply, ”…Hunters. They say things sometimes that really can get to you.” His fingers tangled amongst themselves finding something to do. “It was brought up again. The disappearance of my father’s late secretary and his family. New evidence came in, but mid statement the Head Hunter laughed. Even going as far as muttering dogs deserved to disappear under his breath. It was— hard trying to remain stable and take the higher ground. All throughout the meeting they were making completely unnecessary comments. It makes me want to forget that I’m going to become Minister and have to deal with this, them. I just don’t know if I can do this sometimes.”

He noticed the twitch and stutter of her fingers at the mention of the Hunters. He noticed her heart rate increase almost doubling in rate. She cleared her throat and the pungent stress scent left her and her heart rate leveled out. It was amazing how it switched so rapidly, making him question if he really heard and smelled the change. Her hand came to a stop in her petting trailing down to his temple to his cheekbone, then tipping his chin up to look at her. “Joon, it’s okay to be angry. You’re allowed to emotions. Those men are terrible. I’m glad you controlled yourself, you’re a smart man Namjoon. Those scum don’t deserve your emotions though. You don’t always have to be strong, at least not in front of me. The sky will marble differently tomorrow.”

He wrapped one of his arm around my waist pulling me closer to him. I almost tripped from the unexpected movement, but his strong arms held me tightly. He leaned his head on my stomach breathing in heavily releasing his stress upon an exhale. “Just let me rest for a few minutes. I’ll be fine.” With each inhale he took in my scent and released the toxic anger out with each exhale. The stress I felt vicariously from him began to seep away replaced with a fuzzy feeling. I still had one hand carding in his hair, but my other came to rest at the nape of his nails scratching lightly. A shiver rolled down his spine a content purr leaving him shortly after. My cheeks blushed as he began to lightly nuzzle against my stomach. He looked up resting his chin on my stomach, “thank you Aure.”

Namjoon was like the sun, I was drawn into his orbit unable to escape his gravitational phenomenon. His radiance was unprecedented. I found myself lost in his gaze before I nodded.

He looked up searching my gaze “it’s the full moon tonight, would you like to go for a run with me?” I stepped back away from his touch, but something only let me half step. I wanted to, no, needed to get out of this house. My wolf has been scratching up my throat to let her breath, stretch her limbs, and feel the blades of grass beneath my paws. I let my hand slip out of his hair, “go, stretch your limbs, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His hand snatched my wrist, but the grip wasn’t tight instead setting my worries to a simmer. My muscles were still rigor in his grasp, but his warmth was cathartic. “No, don’t shut me out Aure.” Naturally I caved towards him, that gravity pulling me closer. I realized I asked him to open up, yet I was pulling away. “Come with me Aure. It’s been a while since you’ve shifted, aren’t you feeling it?” He was right, but my wolf wasn’t what I was worried about. It was the patchy fur, the scars that would show. I wouldn’t have my clothing to protect me anymore, I was going to be all out on display.

As if he read my thoughts, his fingers tightened around my hand and laced themselves in between the divots of my fingers. “I will protect you Aure. I will stand by you…always.”

It took me a moment searching for a lie or a fumble in his expression, but they were stern and unblinking. I nodded, “okay.”

He hasn’t let go of my hand as promised, his fingers squeezed mine every now and then. He looked back a few times his eyes playing on that puppy look causing me to giggle at his impatience, “I’m here still.” I held up our hands as a reminder. He laughed boisterously bringing my hand up to his lips brushing his velvet lips in a sweet chaste kiss. I turned my head away from him concealing my blush. I had no idea how to react besides let my heart run a marathon to its content. He chuckled softly pulling me along until we were at the tree line.

“Uhmm… you can stand behind this tree and toss me your clothes. I’ll put it in the bin and I’ll follow along shortly.” I nodded stepping behind a wide oak tree, enough to cover myself. I stripped as fast as I possibly could disregarding the bundle of discarded clothing. I let the shift take over hunching, all be it a bit rusty but the familiar sensation of change was welcoming. Letting my form morph into my wolf was liberating. I leaned forward stretching out my hips then stood up like a cobra to fully extend my body. The scents of the forest, the rustling of the leaves, and the blood pumping through my veins magnified my senses. Everything felt more intense, more primal, I answered to my instincts with a content rumble in my chest.

I picked up the scent of masculinity against the fresh evergreen and oak. I gathered up my clothes in my jaw and rounded the tree but scurried back as soon as I saw Namjoon tucking his thumbs into his jeans to pull them down. He must’ve heard the rustling of dirt because he was laughing hard enough that he coughed. I waited until he was ready to round the tree on his own. I sat patiently with my clothes still in my mouth, honestly much too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

A crack, break, then a happy howl as I heard the heavy hit of paws to the floor. Only when he whined to garner my attention did I turn around. An article of clothing fell from my mouth as the bear sized wolf came into view. I was an alpha myself, but I was nowhere near his size a physical shadow encompassed me. His fur was an ombre of dark grey into a eggshell white; it was a beautiful, thick coat. One ear flattened against his scalp as he waited patiently, staring at me himself. We were both sizing eachother up, yet I didn’t feel the need to cover myself or my scars. Even though he stood about a few feet away he radiated heat like the sun, the shift making his metabolism shot through the roof.

The last time I saw his wolf was when I first came here a month ago, yet this time it felt different. Things were different.

He picked up the t-shirt waiting for me to drop the rest to store in safe keeping. I dropped the rest of the clothing for him to take. It was then that I was finally able to take in my surrounding, not just through a window pane on the third floor but physically there. I didn’t realize how much I missed all this. The rays of the moonlight felt like a fresh squeeze of lemon on your tongue sending shivers up my spine until my hackles raised. I wanted to howl in delight, I wanted to jump and roll around. I felt like a puppy eager for its first steps in the world. I closed my eyes monetarily honing into the sounds of the crickets and the sound of a stream within a miles range. I was at ease.

He came back empty muzzle and he circled around me, not in an aggressive manner but tauntingly in a “I told you needed this” manner. Although expressions are limited on the canine face, the little quirks with our ears and tail were expressive. I raised my brow with my tail lightly swishing behind me feeling mischievous. I gave him one look before I took off running. The trees flashed by me, fresh air filling my lungs every second and for the first time in a while truly felt alive. However, a figure easily zoomed past me, his larger frame propelling through the forest with ease. The pounding of our paws was almost silent against the moist mossy ground. Namjoon spared me a brief look before he continued onwards being childish. The moonlight filtered through the trees creating a new pattern of misshapen stars on the ground. I kept forth as we neared that water he kept running the water level nothing for him. I stopped at the bank but threw all caution out the window as Namjoon looked across the river at me. The water was up to my elbow tickling my stomach with splashes of chilled water. Before I got to the other side I used my tail to splash water at the him. His eyebrows raised but again I speed past him wheezes of what would be a laugh taunted him.

I slowed my pace banking off to the left to hide behind some trees playing into the childish game of hide and seek.

It took Namjoon to get ten feet away before intuition kicked in, he saw her hide behind the tree. A wheeze of a laugh left his muzzle, it never ceased to amaze him the duality of her. He decided to play his own game knowing this forest like the back of his hand.

I waited and waited for a few minutes, but the dark grey wolf didn’t come. I peeked from behind the tree my tail lightly swishing against my knowledge he’d hear the motion. Sudden like a puppy Namjoon pounced in front of me with his hind end raised and front lowered and his tail swishing a million miles per hour. He yipped excitedly and began to run off expecting me to chase after him. I ran full force after him, but he was smart dodging me before I caught up to him. He slowed just enough, then speed up as I was about to tag him.

I was panting hard, I wasn’t used to this type of exercise, so I stopped mid treck. Namjoon noticed and rounded back until he was approaching cautiously to check if something was wrong. My head hung low as I caught my breath. He nuzzled at my temple attempting to garner my attention. The soft caress was sweet and endearing as he whined. The bear-wolf was whining for attention. When I figured him vulnerable enough I pounced forward surprising the Alpha.

We rolled around twigs and leaves intertwining themselves in our fur. On the last tumble he reigned champion caging me underneath him. I could feel his hot breath panting as my fur lightly rippeled. The silence following was comforting. I pried my eyes open and couldn’t help staring at the wolf still hovering over me. Ever since I come to this family I found that thing I was looking for, that sense of community, that sense of security I didn’t know existed anymore. I found a bit of peace. I was so busy lost in my thoughts and panting I didn’t notice Namjoon leaning in closer. I gulped hard but remained motionless, I didn’t want to move. His eyes were full of adoration his crimson swirling something romantically floral. As if he was presenting a rose to me.

His elbow shifted as he bowed down carefully watching for any rejection or hesitation. I keep my sight on his eyes as if I was hyptnotized. His wet nose met mine staying there for a few seconds and then he backed away. The edges of his mouth seemed to pull back into a canine smile as his tail wagged fast behind him. Although my tail was pinned under me it still twitched back and forth and before I knew it I was smiling too. He leaned down again licking at my eye feeling the need to groom you, to provide any sense of comfort.

He licked a few more being urged on by a short whine. His tongue stopped its nurturing as he stilled above his chest squaring out and arms erecting again. It all happened before I could even come down from the high of affection. His tail was absolutely straight, and eyes narrowed a grim red a horrid growl bubbling in his throat. His nostrils flared, and he took a step caging my body underneath his as his head searched around. I stayed absolutely still trying to pick up on whatever it was, but I was too late.

The figure lunged forth shadowing you momentarily before knocking Namjoon to his side. I was caught under his paw jerking me along for the ride.

I rolled onto my side with a whine and I opened my eyes to Namjoon and another wolf circling eachother with their fangs and gums on full display. The growls were guttural. I looked for an opening, anything to help him out, I couldn’t let this stranger hurt him. I stood on all four of my paws becoming a tripod ready to lung at this stranger. However, Namjoon had other plans, he growled in my direction but didn’t break eye contact with the other grey wolf. The other wolf wasn’t as large as him, about my size, but he still posed a threat. From what I could decipher the wolf was a stray—a rogue—and the scent coming off him smelled atrocious. I figured he must be in heat.

Avia’s only told me stories about what happens to a wolf when they go into a rut as one of the other members of the pack just recently went into it. “Apparently if there’s wolf in a rut or if a female’s in heat and it’s not your mate’s scent, it’ll smell something bittersweet or bitter-savory; more bitter than sweet. At least that’s what they say? The pheromone thing is still trying to do its job of trying to let another wolf satisfy its heat/rut, but it won’t allow a ‘bond’.” This an explanation as why the woman who you address mentally as “snarky one”, has been MIA along with her mate. Especially why walking by their room days prior to their disappearance smelled like ammonia, sulfuric but a touch of vanilla.

Hints of cinnamon and vomit lingered in the air as excessive drool leaked from the rogue’s mouth. Namjoon made sure I understood this was something personal by standing in front of me blocking my perspective from he , this was a battle he had to fight on his own. This was him doing his job as the Alpha and Namjoon, my mate. His protective instincts kicking in.

The circling ceased when the other wolf became impatient, but his actions were careless and sporadic. He didn’t seem to have a set plan just snipping at any given flesh or limbs he could get his mouth on since he knew the size difference was putting him at an advantage.

My paws dug into the dirt, upset that I couldn’t participate.

It was all blurry images in monochrome.

Their large paws hitting the dirt resonated off the trees like a baseline. The leaves rattling was the winds and growls the vocals. The orchestra was building. Teeth snagged fur as parts of their pelt fluttered down like feathers. Namjoon’s extended his jaw to its full capacity, strings of saliva strung from his sharp teeth like strings of a harp. His ears flat and his hackles were raised, the beast was out to tame. The whip cracked with the sound of teeth clashing and oversized bodies slamming.

The longer I stared my confidence on Namjoon’s strength drained. The forest shifted to something casted in a purple light an open bear trap clutched at the leg of a faceless wolf that howled in agony. I was my old self again running away with my family trying to stay with me. I could feel the twine around my thighs and calves. It wasn’t the visual but the sounds of scratching and pouncing reminded me of those hunters.

I sat back on my hind legs, trembling feeling like a statue just watching—but not truly watching—the encounter before me. I was so lost in thought I failed to notice Namjoon pick up the limp rogue with his jaw, but still slight struggling figure tried to fight still. Namjoon backstroked once and then projected the rogue against a tree knocking the being out cold. Once he was sure he sedated the being he turned towards me. He noticed the glossed over look in my eyes, a look he was now familiar with. He limped hurriedly over whining and nuzzling his muzzle to break the spell.

Only after I felt licks being administered to my ears did I wake from my trance; I shook my head clearing of the images of the past. There was so much blood you would’ve thought him an auburn wolf. Panic set in so I began searching him, but he assured me by nudging me that the majority of it wasn’t his. The look in his eyes told me let’s go back home. I easily agreed ready to turn back to the house, but he whined harshly. My instincts kicked back in and I noticed he was supporting himself with his left side. I rounded to his right side supporting but I was only able to support him partially.

Once we reached the tree line he was panting hard. I whined with a small chirp as we came to the clothing container implications for him to close his eyes—only for a moment. I shifted back into my human form, the cold night air hitting instantly sending goosebumps like ripples all over your skin. I dressed rapidly, then set his clothing in front of his wolf petting his head letting him know I was done shifting. The sound of bones clicking, and humanistic sounds filled the otherwise quiet night. Namjoon laid on the ground and I could hear scuffling, but it sounded pained. I wanted to help him, but I don’t think it would be appropriate if I saw him in such a vulnerable state.

“Aure…can you help me?” I weaned open one eye thankful that he slipped his boxers on at least, but the blood pouring out a gash on his torso was alarming. I picked up his t-shirt and sacrificing it as temporary gauze. His wound was pressing, his shift already took enough energy out of him. The clock was ticking.

“You’re going to have to help me okay? Help me get you into a kneeling position and let’s move from there.” He nodded, and I assisted him into starting position from there we stood. All be it his towering physic was a bit of a challenge, but the adrenaline was a great aid in helping you maintain posture. I let him lean the majority of his weight on me. His gravity was centered on me and considering traveling all the way to the infirmary a journey of its own I sat him down on a dinning chair.

I called out to members of the house, stirring people from their sleep. Seojun, Namjoon’s cousin, popped up from the couch, awoken from his late night netflixing. “Seojun! Help me take him up to the infirmary.” Instantly he was on his feet, not asking questions just following orders. I trailed behind as he helped Namjoon up the stairs. I speed past them going to the infirmary prepping all the stuff I would need.

My sensitive ears were picking up movements in the house aside from us. Aviva popped in the doorway rubbing her eyes, “what’s wrong Aure?”

“Go call Mama Luna, its an emergency.” She looked around and finally caught notice of the soon to be Alpha being carried into the hall. She scurried away, and I got to work placing bottles of saline and gauze near the table. I helped his cousin lay down Namjoon situating to lay facing up. Namjoon’s eyes were closed his chest rising and falling steadily, but he winced whenever he took a deep breath.

I finally got a good look at the injury. I noticed an unsteady figure standing on the opposite end, like the blood drained from his face. “Thank you for your help Seojun, you can go now.”

His cousin nodded, “sorry I’m not good with blood…or anything medical for that matter.” He booked it before I could nod in reply.

Another sharp intake of breath reminded me of what was at hands. His grip was searching for mine, “Aure.”

Immediately I forgot the emotional aspect of things at the bell sound of my name and analyzed the extent of things. The gash ranged from his right false ribs all the way to his belly button. The stress he was under lately must be affecting his healing rate. I worked saline into the surrounding area and cleaned it gently. I worked at least three folds of gauze before I was able to see the damage. The gash seemed to be centimeters deep, but not deep enough to be critical. It would need stiches. “You’re going to need stiches.”

“Let me go get Mama, I promise—I—I promise I’ll be back soon, please don’t close your eyes.” His arm latched onto your shirt his eyes wide open and red.

“Aure. You can do it. I know you can.” This time around my eyes widened taking his hand from my shirt into my palms.

“No…Namjoon. I don’t have enough training. I could really hurt you.”

His eyes were stern staring into your burning rose golden ones. “You can do it Aure. I know you can. You can.”

He winced again seething through his teeth when pain resurfaces sharply. His eyes were pleading. I felt it all. I could feel a faint pain all over my torso, and I had to make it stop. My mate needed me.

“Okay...Okay. I got this. I can do this.” His hand fell back to his side nodding slowly waiting for my next move. I searched into the drawer pulling out a packaged suture set and more saline and gauze. I snapped on some gloves and positioned myself over him. I’ve seen this done before watching over Mama Luna a few times and over the shoulder as Aviva practiced on a dummy.

I rubbed a bit of a topical numbing cream before I brought up the needle. “I’m starting now.” He nodded closing his eyes, jaw relaxed. I stitched him the best I could. When the pain became almost too much and the cream wasn’t holding up anymore, his hand surged up to latch onto my free arm trying to steady himself. His body was trembling, but he was a true trooper teetering on the realm of consciousness and subconscious. I spoke to ease my mind and tension, “idiot, we could’ve just left. Why did you have to fight him?”

Namjoon’s eye were already a twinge of red, but this time the red filled his eyes in an unwanted anger. “What are you talking about? Of course, I had to. A rogue, much less a rogue in heat near my unclaimed mate and he was on our territory. I had to. What if he tried to—.” A growl rumbled through his lips just the thought of another male trying to lay claim on his mate made him want to go back out there and remind the rogue again who was the Alpha.

I noticed the conversation was taking a turn in his suturing for the worse, so I raised a hand to his cheek gently rubbing to calm him down. “Unclaimed? Are you and I already mates and that’s enough? Isn’t that how this all goes down?”

The red in his eyes flickered back to their murky burgundy at my touch. “No, it’s not official not in the eyes of our wolfs. Yes, we are mates, but your still unclaimed without my mark.”

I blushed at the implications instead focusing all my attention back on the needle work. He didn’t take offense to the silence instead resting his head back down again. I knew he would heal within the next few days, but the wound still required attention. Werewolf’s weren’t susceptible to infections. I knotted the best I could with five tight bonds and ever so gently cut the thread sealing off the stiches. I ran a hand through his head to coax him to raise his head. “I’m going to get the bandages and wrap you up, then were done okay?” He lifted himself up into a sitting position with my help wincing when he put pressure on his left side.

With practice thanks to Mama Luna I began wrapping around his chest. “Aure, can I ask you something?” I nodded as I wrapped another bandage loop around him. “Back in the forest, your eyes…they changed. They always seem to go somewhere else. It happened the last time I mention the Hunters. Is there something—is there something I don’t know?”

The air didn’t thicken, nor did my throat constrict, but the gold in my eyes intensified and he picked up on it. After wrapping the last loop, I tied it securely not looking up to him yet. I patted it gently satisfied with my work. When I couldn’t stare at his chest any longer I slowly looked up at him, my eyes latched onto his unwavering. “I’m not who you think I am.”

His face searched hers as her eyes mixed something more golden upon her words. His senses were scenting anxiety and fear in her words. However, her heartbeat was stable.

This wasn’t the way I wanted to tell him, or even allude to this. Time was never on my side anyways.

A presence…multiple I didn’t even sense stood within the doorway. Alpha Kim was leaning on the doorway with an eyebrow raised. “Who are you then Aure?”

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naruto-oneshots-blog · 7 years ago

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Heya :3 do you write for Rock Lee? If you do, could you please write a scenario based on his reaction to his S/O returning from a mission where she was heavily injured? Thanks :}

Sorry for taking so long again. This one was kind of hard for me but hopefully, I wrote Rock Lee good! _____________This was the first time that you had been so heavily injured. Not only was your right arm broken, but both of your legs were as well. During your month-long mission, you had managed to get captured by the enemy, which in turn led you to being tortured for information. You could proudly say you didn’t tell them anything. But, your silence might’ve cost you more than you bargained for. When the medical ninja on your team took a look at you they found that your one leg had been completely shattered. They didn’t even know if Lady Tsunade could fix you. In a way, it might be a good thing for you to retire this early, seeing that you and your husband Rock Lee were thinking of having children soon. You would have much more time for the little munchkins if you didn’t need to go on missions anymore. Even so, you couldn’t help but feel the pang of loss. Becoming a ninja had been your entire life, your dream, your ambition. You wanted to be the best Kunoichi that the Leaf Village had ever seen. Another thing that worried you was Lee. You didn’t know how he was going to react to seeing you like this. Sure, you’ve had minor wounds, but nothing this bad, nothing serious enough to end your career as a ninja. You hoped that it wouldn’t dredge up memories of the time Lee had been so badly injured. Sighing heavily, you watched the millions of sparkling stars pass by as your team carefully carried you back towards your home.___________Rock Lee was immensely excited to see his beautifully wonderful wife. He had so many things to tell her, to do with her since she had been gone for so long. The month had felt like an eternity of waiting. But now it was almost time for her return. Lee had been running around Konoha telling everyone saw about how excited he was to see (Y/N). He knew that most people didn’t really care, but he had to tell people otherwise he would explode from the excitement. (Y/N) was the love of his life, the only woman he would ever want. Sure, during his early teens he was enamoured with Sakura, but after he realized that she only had eyes for Sasuke, Lee had decided to move on and find someone else. For the longest time, he thought that maybe he would never find anyone that would fall for him. In fact, many of the ninjas around the village would laugh at him whenever he asked a girl if they would go on a date with him. Lee would always laugh along with them, trying to brush it off as a joke. Whenever this happened, Guy-sensei would always tell him to keep using the Power of Youth and eventually the right girl would come his way. But after a few years, Lee felt as if the Power of Youth was failing him. Every girl he asked out would say no, that they had a boyfriend, that they saw him just as a friend. Of course, being the gentleman he was, he never pursued them any further and made sure to be polite. But after a while, it got tiring. Well, until the day that (Y/N) came along. It had been a chilly winter day when Lee went out to look for a date for the Winter Ball. Everyone who attended would bring a partner and everyone was pairing up so quickly that Lee was scared that there would be no one left for him. He reached a group of people and approached a pretty woman wearing a pink scarf. “Hello!” He greeted her with a smile. “I was wondering if you’d like to go to the Winter Ball with me?” The woman looked at him quizzically. “Are you talking to me?” She asked to which Lee nodded. “Umm, sorry,” The group behind her was trying to hide their laughter. “I want to go with someone who’s attractive.” She finished with a snicker. Lee’s heart sank. That was the harshest thing that someone has said to him so far. He knew he wasn’t the most attractive guy in the village, but he was a gentleman with a good personality which should’ve counted for something. By now the whole group was laughing.“Hey assholes,” Lee heard a voice say. He looked towards the sound and saw a woman leaning against the building. “You do know that he could easily take all of you down in an instant if he wanted to?” She was grinning as she came out of the shadows. She had (H/L) (H/C) hair and piercing (E/C) eyes. “I’d suggest not insulting him anymore. Although, he would be too much of a gentleman to hold a grudge against idiots like you.” She came to a stop next to Lee and crossed her arms. “None of you could go with Lee anyways because I'm going with him.” Lee was too shocked to talk. How was it possible that this enticing woman – who he had never met before – could come out of nowhere and say that she was going with him?“Why would you even want to?” A guy asked looking genuinely confused. “Because I know a good guy when I see one. Excluding Lee, all I see are assholes.” She turned to him and smiled. “Now let’s go Lee.” And that was it. After the Ball, Lee and (Y/N) hung out all the time and eventually became a couple. Even now he could hardly believe that they were married and thinking about having kids. It blew his mind. “Hey, Lee!” He heard someone yell. It was TenTen. “(Y/N)’s back.” “I have to get to the gate then!” He said enthusiastically, feeling a twinge of annoyance at the writer for not letting him be at the gate when (Y/N) showed up. “I wanted to be there when she got back.” Just as he was about to take off running, TenTen grabbed his arm. “She’s at the Hospital right now.” She said nothing more and walked away. Hundreds of things ran through his mind as he booked it towards the hospital, making sure to take off his ankle weight so that he could reach his highest speed. Flying through the village he reached the hospital in no time and slammed into the front desk. “What room is (Y/N) in?” “5, but- ” Before she could finish her sentence Lee took off once more. In a second, he reached the door to see (Y/N) laying in bed with three casts, and Tsunade showing her three radiographs. (Y/N)’s face was full of bruises, with both eyes black, a broken nose and a busted lip.“Lee,” (Y/N) started, looking shocked at his sudden appearance. “(Y/N), are you alright? What happened? Are you going to get better?” Lee was a fountain of questions but Lady Tsunade shut him down. “Lee, either you need to leave or be quiet.” Lee nodded and closed his mouth, knowing that this was much more serious than he had anticipated. He made his way over to (Y/N)’s bedside and tried to keep his thoughts in check. He didn’t want to think the worst but the way Lady Tsunade was looking reminded him of when he had been terribly wounded after the fight with Gaara. (Y/N) gave him a small smile as he stood by her bed, waiting for Tsunade to continue. “Now, I have three radiographs here of (Y/N)’s legs and arm.” She began and lifted one of the x-rays to show them. “This first one is of (Y/N)’s arm. It was a fairly clean break which I can fix with minimal surgery.” She grabbed the next one. “This is (Y/N)’s left leg. The break is a little worse than the arm but can still be fixed with surgery. Now comes to the worst part.” She said gravely and picked up the last x-ray. “This is your right leg. Your entire leg from your hipbone down so your ankle is shattered which is a huge problem. I could try and fix it, but if the surgery doesn’t work – which is most likely to happen – then we will have to amputate your leg.”Lee couldn’t believe it. Amputation? There must be another way to help (Y/N). “There’s no other way?” Lee prodded. “(Y/N) is an amazing ninja and you can’t just give up on her. Look at me. The chances you gave me when I had surgery were terrible, but I still made it through. There must be something more you can do!” By the end of his pleading, even Lee could hear the desperation in his own voice. Lee was feeling frantic when he felt a warm hand on his arm. He looked sideways to see (Y/N) looking up at him with a small smile. “Lee, it's going to be alright.” Her voice was comforting to him and helped him to regain his composure. “Lady Tsunade will try her best to fix my leg, and if it doesn’t work it doesn’t work.” How could she be so calm and collected during all of this? Knowing that she might not be able to become a ninja anymore. “Maybe if I have to get it amputated, we could find someone to make a prosthetic leg for me.” She brushed her thumb along his arm and smiled again. “Come on, what happened to all that youthful spirit that I love so much? We’ll get through this Lee.” (Y/N) was right. What she needed now was positivity from her husband, not a bunch of complaining from him. “I'm sorry (Y/N),” He said and planted a gentle kiss on her bruised cheekbone. “No matter what happens, we’ll still be together. I’ll help you through whatever comes.” “I know you will Lee.” She replied and squeezed his arm. Lee would be as supportive as he could and use his youthful energy to help (Y/N) get better, no matter what.

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pinkobsessedfreak · 7 years ago

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Valentine’s Day (Neil Melendez x Claire Browne) [The Good Doctor]

a/n;; thank you guys for responding so kindly and encouraging me to write this. i’m sorry that it’s going to be such trash. i tried to devote as much as i could to it and still have it be posted remotely near valentine’s day but i got 2 writing projects for school so this is the best i could do

word count;; 1804

enjoy!!!

Neil hated Valentine’s. He always had. When he was in elementary and middle school, no one ever gave him anything for Valentine’s, deeming him too nerdy or weird for their attempts at affection. Even in high school, as he watched his friends get bags upon bags of gifts and tons of candy, no one offered to give him anything nor be his Valentine. When he got older and became more appealing, he serenaded his girlfriends with floods of gifts on Valentine’s. Most of them broke his heart a couple of days after, saying that all of this was too much. He had so much love and compassion to share with the world, and none of them accepted him for it.

With Jessica, Valentine’s was finally…okay. He slightly toned down his spews of romantic antics and got her a card and a major gift of some sort yearly, and she did so in return. When they split, it truly hurt him to know that one of the only women who ever truly loved him and allowed him to somewhat express who he was thought that their relationship would end up being a regret.

Claire loved Valentine’s. There was never a year where she didn’t give out enough Valentine’s to drown the world in her compassion. Even during medical school, with her tuition and the fees of necessity cutting away at her budget, she still managed to make enough cards for her closest friends and spread her tender warmth to them. She was a strong woman that radiated care and love. Valentine’s Day was the day where she would break from her character and express her somewhat pent-up love and compassion for people.

No one at Saint Bonaventure had seen her Valentine’s antics yet. The staff had heard bits and pieces of discussions she’d had over the phone, talking about red construction paper and glitter, as well as boxes of Sour Patch Kids. Most just brushed it off, but some knew that the torrential Valentine’s storm known as Cyclone Dr. Claire Browne was hastily approaching.

What had Claire absolutely elated this Valentine’s season, though, was the fact that she was going to be able to lift her boss’s spirits. Neil had been somewhat down ever since him and Jessica decided to end things a few months ago. He may have buried his sorrows in his work, but he did have sorrows. Claire, though, had a plan to resolve those feelings and finally bring a smile to his face, a smile that didn’t hide any pain behind it. And did that plan involve red construction paper, glitter, and Sour Patch Kids? Yes.

On February 14th, the legendary day of Saint Valentine, Claire and Shaun were with Neil to perform a right laparoscopic unilateral salpingo-oophorectomy, Jared was assisting Dr. Lin on a neuroblastoma removal from the lumbar part of the spinal cord, and Morgan was doing surgical consults in the ER. Claire’s locker was stuffed to the brim with Valentine’s cards for everyone, with packets of Sour Patch Kids attached. After she was off of her shift, she would attempt to give out all the cards she could to staff and the pediatric patients.

Hours later, the complication-filled salpingo-oophorectomy was successful and finished, as was Claire’s shift. Therefore, the fun of Valentine’s Day Cyclone Dr. Claire Browne would begin. When she retreated to the locker room to get changed and get ready to go home, her routine shifted. She got dressed in her usual adornment, but instead of walking right out the door, she did something else.

Grabbing the large bagful of adorned red cards, Claire headed out of the barren locker room as she took a couple from the bag. She handed one to every staff member she saw, even diverging from her original ambitions to give some lonely patients cards too. When she nearly crashed into Shaun as she sped to the pediatric ward, she gave him 4 cards and a happy Valentine’s Day as an apology before continuing on her path. When she got to pediatrics, she went up to the check-in desk with a softer demeanor and pace.

“Dr. Browne! What brings you to pediatrics at this hour?” The person at the computer, Nurse Janette, asked as she looked up at the surgical resident kindly. The nurse smiled when Claire hoisted a big bag of Valentine’s up onto the desk, her original bag still swelling with cards.

“Spreading the love this Valentine’s Day, huh?” Nurse Janette jokingly questioned, inspecting the bag of cards for any candy or tiny, dangerous particles.

“Yes, and here’s yours,” Claire answered cheerfully, handing Nurse Janette a plain, heart-shaped card with paper lace trim. The nurse was amazed by the generosity and gleefully accepted it, mentioning that she hadn’t gotten a Valentine’s card like this since her ex-husband first met her. Nurse Janette set the card down on her desk and finished inspecting the bag of cards. Once she ensured that the cards were sugarless and glitterless, she got up to deliver the cards to the patients’ families.

Claire turned on her heel, quickly speeding off finish delivering the rest of her cards to any of the staff she saw in the halls and the occasional patient or two. She was done within the hour, even delivering a card to Dr. Aoki, Dr. Andrews, and Jessica.

Jessica was a little stiff when given the card, probably already having sniffed out the fact that Claire was attempting to cheer up her ex. There was nothing wrong with that, except the fact that when Jess offered to go to dinner to Neil, as friends, he declined with no real reasoning. It doesn’t take a genius to deduce the fact that Neil was conflicted in his feelings and probably developed feelings for someone else in the months they had been split. That someone could be Claire, and that’s what frustrated Jessica.

Claire tossed the empty plastic bag into the trash and went to her locker, retrieving her last card with a silently muttered hope that Neil was still here. Entering the elevator, she felt her pulse quicken as anxiety began to flood her system. What if this doesn’t work? What if I make a fool of myself? Why do I have to have a crush on my superior?! Claire thought pessimistically as the doors slid open, snapping her from her thoughts. She walked down the familiar hallway, toting her Valentine’s card behind her back in an attempt to hide it childishly. When she approached the door she knew all too well, she raised her hand to knock.

But no sound entered the air as her hand remained frozen, mere centimeters from the door. Claire took a deep, soothing breath, holding it in as she attempted to calm herself down. She exhaled and let her hand drop, giving the door 6 knocks and stopping. Her breath dwelled in her lungs for the tedious seconds of silence that followed, fear clouding her senses as the quiet dragged on.

“Come in.” Someone, whose voice she immediately recognized as her attending’s, called out from the other side. Claire opened the door slowly, making sure to keep her card positioned securely behind her so it would be away from Neil’s sight when she gave her rehearsed speech.

“Dr. Melendez, I-” Claire began as she walked into the room, only to be interrupted by the man in question.

“Claire, for the millionth time, we’re off-duty.You can call me Neil.” Neil reassures the surgical resident, who breathes and approaches his desk before starting again.

“Neil, I was, well, um, screw it.” Claire stuttered, bringing the card from behind her back and showing it to Neil. Her rehearsals and practice meant nothing now. All that she could do from this point onward is let the words that needed to be said spill from her lips.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Neil,” Claire exclaimed, smiling softly with her card out in front of her. Neil glimpsed at the card, then to her somewhat heated face, then back to the card. Claire felt her heart drop as his pause made her even more uncomfortable than she had been moments ago.

“It’s beautiful. When did you have the time to make it?” Neil finally responded, standing up gently taking the card from Claire. She stared at him with surprise, feeling her heart jump right back up to her chest happily. Processing his question, she answered promptly.

“In between shifts and everything,” Claire answered, smiling wider and intertwining her fingers awkwardly. Neil chuckled as he took the bag of Sour Patch Kids off the card and looked up at Claire.

“Are you trying to tell me something with these?” He quipped, watching the surgical resident snicker warmly and fiddle with her fingers more. She grabbed another packet of Sour Patch Kids from her coat pocket and tossed it onto Neil’s desk before defending herself.

“Well, you were arrogant and sour and pretty rough at first.” Claire began, pausing when she heard Neil scoff humorously. She giggled before continuing. “I said at first! But once people get to know you, you’re amazing and sweet and thoughtful, like Sour Patch Kids.” She finished her explanation.

“I don’t understand how Sour Patch Kids could be thoughtful.” Neil teased, and Claire rolled her eyes facetiously.

“You get my point! What I’m trying to say is that you are a really great person and I know you’ve been pretty down even though it’s been a while since you and Jessica split but actually I wanted to know if you were interested in being my Valentine?” Claire rambled, realizing what she admitted and mentally facepalming. She felt that she sounded so stupid. She quietly sighed as she speculated that there was no saying in the fact that Neil was not interested in her. Damnit.

“Of course,” Neil answered. Claire peeked up from the trance she had on her intertwined fingers in elated surprise, mouth partially agape.

“Wait, really?” She asked, wanting to make sure that he wasn’t just messing with her feelings. Sure, he wasn’t that much of an arrogant dick, but she couldn’t believe the fact that her hope was justified.

“Of course, Claire. I’d love to be your Valentine.” Neil reiterated, walking out from behind his desk and to her. She smiled at him and took her hand out of her pocket, to rest at her side. He glanced to the left before meeting her eyes again, a smirk plastered on his face.

“You know, there’s a great Laotian place around the corner from here. You want to go get some dinner?” He asks, smiling at her as she pondered it for a second.

“Sure, Valentine.”

Neil loves Valentine’s Day. As does Claire.

#the good doctor #melendaire #naire #dr. claire browne #dr. neil melendez #who is this nurse janette #is she an oc #yes she is

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