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ellieslaces · 11 months ago

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NOTHING’S GONNA HURT YOU, BABY.

featuring: leon kennedy x fem!agent!reader x ashley graham

synopsis: ashley graham's biggest weakness is attractive people, especially kind, attractive people. she was not expecting to be saved by two of the hottest, kindest people she'd ever met, much less to end up crushing on the both of them

content warnings: harsh language; mentions of violence; tension; lots of flirtatious banter; ashley shooting her shot for an entire fic basically; mentions of reader being bisexual; light smut; kissing (f!f & f!m); one bed trope; forced proximity; no real smut bc idk how to write a threesome :(

notes: takes place on the way back from Spain (technically post RE4R); one bed-ish trope (r&leon share a bed, and a room with ashley); ashley is sort of confused about her sexuality; semi-established relationship (r&leon); really more of a sibling dynamic between ashley and leon (it sounds weird, but its balanced in the actual fic, i promise)

word count: 6.13k (i’m so sorry)

chloe talks: was this entirely inspired by @postersofleon ? yeah, i read this post a week or so ago and i'm losin' sleep over it. so full credits to @postersofleon for the plot! luv their lil' drabble :) also, sorry this isn't more of a threesome fic. if it were a triple female threesome, i could work with that, but add a dick into it, i'm clueless. anyways, enjoy ashley fumbling for this whole fic (luv her, i just can't help embarrassing her shes so cute). also, please appreciate this, i wrote around 80% of this while i was supposed to be studying for an exam. that’s on adhd and procrastination :)

now playing: Nohings Gonna Hurt You Baby; Cigarettes After Sex

It is entirely possible that blondes were, indeed, your weakness. Sure, over the years, you'd come to realize there was something especially alluring about lighter hair - possibly the way it reminded you of the sun, or how each strand looked like spun gold. Although, what seemed to seal your fate was the ever dangerous pairing of blonde hair and blue eyes. Oh, how alluring and damning was the color of icy blue coupled with silvery, silken strands.

For a time, you believed your weakness was encompassed only within your field partner, Leon S. Kennedy. God, how handsome was that agent. Not only handsome, but brave, and kind - awkwardly so, but it really is the principle of the thing. It was painstakingly obvious to everyone, other than Leon it seemed, that you were completely and forlornly in love with him. It seemed you were equally as blind to the evidence that Leon Kennedy was also miserably in love with you.

But the one person who noticed it upon first glance was Ashley Graham. Not only for the clear obviousness of the situation, but because the feeling was entirely, and unfortunately mutual. And it was this girl who also awoke the realization within you that Leon was not the only blonde-haired, blue-eyed person you found enticing.

Though, you were not the only one in this clandestine triad who had an impending weakness for certain types of people. No, you were not, Ashley had an Achilles heel for graciously kind people. Not just kind, but attractive. Not in a shallow or superficial way, but to say more that a person would catch her eye. She had no pre-existing physical type - no particular hair color, eye color, or even height preference. Just that they be kind. And much to the First Daughter's dismay, you were both horribly kind. In your own respective ways, of course.

Leon — as aforementioned — was awkwardly kind, despite how well he meant. He never knew exactly how to word his concern, or how to come about comforting someone. It was usually said in simple phrases such as “you okay?” or in way of one of many snarky comments he had stored in the deep recesses of his mind. Ashley thought he was funny; sometimes.

You, on the other hand, were painfully sweet to her. Always reassuring her that she was okay, and you were going to keep her safe. Field medic, that’s how Leon explained your role in her rescue. You were there to keep her and Leon healthy and in one piece, which you were startlingly good at. Any bruise or cut she procured was immediately treated by your sweet disposition and skilled hands. She liked how gentle you were with her.

So yes, Leon was kind in an awkward manner, and you were kind in a practical sense. And that devastating combination was her inevitable downfall.

From the moment you and Leon found her in that church, she knew she was fucked. Because, how could people look that good while doing the sort of jobs you had? There was no way, no way she would ever be able to form coherent sentences around you two. But, somehow, by some miracle, she got on with you both quite well. Despite the obvious moments of third-wheel-ism because you and Leon were so close.

There where multiple reoccurring occasions where Ashley suspected the pair of you may be together. Or at least fucking on the side. Because no two people who are just partners have that dynamic. The constant tension, the way Leon could be protective or even overbearing sometimes. The way you would rush to his side to patch up his wounds — no matter how small and minuscule they were — after a fight. Sometimes, despite how endearing it could be, Ashley was annoyed. Sure, you two had known each other for an extended period of time and had just met Ashley that day. But, it became so aggravating when you would consult each other without the inclusion of Ashley.

Many times you would apologize to her, expressing how sorry you were for leaving her out of conversations or hypothetical battle plans. It wasn’t that either of you thought she was stupid or couldn’t handle it. No, it was more along the lines that you were used to it just being the two of you. There was rarely ever a third party involved — other than Hunnigan chatting away in your ear pieces of course — in these types of situations.

Ashely was smitten, to put it lightly. She’d made several attempts to quote-unquote ‘shoot her shot’ with Leon. Little comments of how brave he was, how thankful she was for his saving her. Even calling him her ‘hero’ on one occasion or another. His name had posted permanent residence in her vocabulary it seemed.

However, her means of flattery with you was completely different. She was a little more bold with you, seeing as you were more of an open person than Leon was. She partook in the cliche, yet never failing flirtatious mannerisms — simple touches, giggling at your jokes, or simply sticking to your side in dangerous situations. It wasn’t that you didn’t notice, no, you just turned a conscious blind eye to it all. Ashley was a college girl, a sorority girl, a privileged girl. She was probably used to using flattery to get what she wanted, to gain the attention she so desperately thrived on.

Though as your time in the hostile Spanish village went on, you came to realize that it wasn’t superficial, Ashley’s flattery toward you and your field partner. Absolutely not, far from it. You realized after Leon had carried her to Luis’ laboratory and you managed to get the machine working to expel the parasite from her body, that Ashley was totally and completely smitten with the pair of you. She was attached in the worst way. And that would be your inevitable downfall.

Leon was consciously blind to it. Your partner — no matter his selfless tendencies and his awkwardly kind nature — was melancholic. He had a firm belief he was predestined to be miserable. That there was always another shoe waiting to drop. He didn’t deserve happiness, peace, love, a good life. So, he ignored it. He ignored how Ashley was equally as taken with him as she was with you. He didn’t bring it up, he didn’t even act like he noticed. Oh, but you did.

You saw the attachment so clearly by the time the three of you had managed to escape the crumbling island via Ada Wong’s gifted jet ski that Ashely was so attached to the pair of you. She’d offered positions on her own personal detail to you, claiming she could put a word in with her father. Denials were made, kind smiles and the shaking of heads. Too kind of an offer and you liked your jobs, is what you’d told her. That wasn’t at all what you were thinking though.

Post a Hunnigan meltdown over your earpieces, the three of you were told to stay the night in a shabby, rundown little local hotel in a larger town a couple dozen miles south of the village. Still in Spain, still tired, still craving a warm shower. One room, two beds. Great, one of you was stuck sleeping with someone. Ashely offered for one of you to have a bed to yourself, she’d sleep with the other. Not a great idea. You and Leon — having spent many awkward and difficult missions together, so this was not strange to either one of you — decided on giving Ashley a bed to herself and taking the other together

If you’d been alone, oh how your lovestruck little heart would have burst. Sharing a bed with Leon Kennedy, the object of your affection. The sole performer in your wildest — and wettest — dreams. But you weren’t alone. Ashley was in the room, a matter of feet away, in her own double sized bed.

If she hadn’t been — to be vulgar and completely honest — nothing would have stopped you from fucking him then and there. The tension between the pair of you had been growing thicker since your arrival in Spain. It was thick, painfully so, and also horrifically obvious not only to you, but yet again, to Ashley. For the longer stretch of the mission, she’d expected a grand confession at any moment. A breakdown caused by a dangerous situation that ensued a moment of emotional and even physical vulnerability. But, to her dismay and yours, that never happened. Because, above all things, Leon was professional for a lack of a better word. He wasn’t going to allow his emotions to jeopardize the mission.

And so no breakdown of emotional distress and vulnerability played out. No confession of hearts bleeding for the other were cried out. Part of you was glad it hadn’t happened that way. But the larger part of your soul which was dedicated to Leon had wished it had. You longed for the day he realized he needed you too. But, to maintain professionalism and dignity, neither of you made such admissions.

Warm showers were taken in rotation in the tiny excuse for a bathroom. The shower was small and permanently stained with grime, but really was clean as the owner swore. The shower head was one of the older ones from the seventies that made the water come out in a dribble, then a forceful rainfall that hurt your back. The toiletries provided by the hotel were small and cheap, but you were clean. That’s all that mattered.

Sans dried blood and grime, you sat on Ashley’s bed, cross legged as you patched up each one of her injuries. Ashley had been the first to shower, after a fifteen minute debate with the two of you over who should go first. She had a few bandages and exposed scrapes that needed to be re-cleaned. So, with gentle hands you did so as Leon took use of his turn to shower.

“Looks good, no signs of infection so far. But, like I said before, I can’t tell too much without the right equipment.” You reassured Ashely as you finished patching up a cut on her arm and began to put your first aid kit back together.

“Thanks,” Ashley nodded, inspecting her scrape riddled skin. Small bruises and surface cuts were beginning to make their appearance, telltale signs of the brutality the three of you had endured in that village.

“Let me know if you feel feverish or see any swelling. That could mean infection.” You offered, being kind but stern.

“‘Kay,” the girl nodded, smiling up at you as you let out a sigh, leaning back on your hands on the bed.

You looked at her, smiling softly as your head tilted to the side a little. “Need me to kiss it better?”

At this, Ashley’s eyes went wide, her cheeks dusted with pink. You felt a little bad then, you just tried to ease the tension. “S’okay, Ashley. I was just playing.” You laughed, your tone lighthearted as you placed a gentle hand on her knee with an equally gentle smile.

It seemed the touch was worst than the comment. Ashley’s entire face went aflame, her eyes wide, and large as she stared at you. An uneasy ache settled in your chest, uncertainty lingering in the air as your smile faded. The initial shock between the pair of you didn’t last long as the door to the bathroom swung open.

“Jesus, you could’ve left me some hot water.” Leon grumbled as he stepped out into the room, lips downturned and brows etched in an annoyed frown.

The three of you were now paused as Leon’s eyes fell on you and Ashely — or more-so on the hand that rested on Ashley’s knee. Reality seemed to snap into place all at once for you, yanking your hand back and standing up.

“Let me check you out.” You mumbled, clearing your throat as you picked up the first aid kit and took residence on your own bed.

“No, I’m fine. Check on Ashley,” Leon shook his head, damp blond strands sticking to his forehead.

“Already did. Just finished. Your turn, whether you like it or not.” You stated, your tone final as you looked up at Leon, brows raised.

The agent let out a huff of agitation, grumbling something indiscernible as he sat down on the bed beside you. You began to gently inspect Leon's wounds- some small, others more intense. Despite his prior hesitation to be taken care of, he was stoic about it all. He sat still, unmoving, silent as you worked to disinfect and cover each wound with fresh bandages. The silence in the room was loud, startlingly uncomfortable as you patched Leon up.

A quick glance over at Ashley as you finished bandaging a deep cut that you'd quickly stitched up on the field showed her wide eyes. Wide baby blue focused on the way your fingers gently worked, how graceful and careful they were again the alabaster tone of Leon's skin.

"Doing okay over there, blondie?” Leon inquired, a small smirk playing on his face as he spotted Ashley's startling gaze on the wounds decorating his skin. He had mistook her fascination of your hands as nervousness of his wounds. But you knew. You could tell what her gaze meant.

"Oh, yeah. M'fine." Ashley recovered very quickly, to your surprise. Well, maybe it wasn't just your hands that had her enraptured, Leon was sitting on the bed, shirtless.

"Alright, hero-boy, all better." You smiled at Leon as you patted his bicep - earning a small, almost inaudible grumble from him - and moving to close your medical kit. You stood, tucking away in your pack and let out a sigh. "’Kay, l for one, am fucking exhausted."

“Yeah, me too,” Ashely murmured, an aura of discomfort still radiating from her. She offered a kind, if not awkward smile to the pair of you before settling into the bed, pulling the overs over her shoulders. “G’night.”

“‘Night,” you smiled, shuffling over to the bed you and Leon were sharing. You sat down on the edge, eyes trained on the back of Ashley’s head — the blonde hair, how it shimmered against the dim light of the single lamp in the room. You felt almost as if you weren’t really there.

“Need me to check you?” Leon asked, snapping you back to reality. You jolted a bit, looking at him from over your shoulder.

“Oh, nah, I’m okay.” You shook your head, clearing your throat as you settled into the bed, flicking off the lamp.

“Okay,” Leon shrugged, getting into the bed too, still in just a pair of pants. Everyone was in the barest of clothing. You in a tank top and underwear — Ashely in the same. It was all you had. All your clothes were soiled with dirt, and grime, and blood.

Thinking of nothing in particular, you laid there, staring up at the ceiling of the dark room. The walls creaked every once in a while, odd drafts filtered in from cracks in the ceiling or from the window. It was too quiet. And it stayed that way for a long while.

“Everything okay with Ashley?” Leon asked, his voice quiet, as not to wake the subject of conversation.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” You mumbled back, turning your head. He, too, was on his back. Both of you too afraid to face each other in bed, seeming too personal. “Why?”

“Just making sure.” His response was quiet, a little too nonchalant, as if he’d forced it to be casual. “It was awkward earlier.”

“Earlier?” You decided to play dumb, despite knowing that Leon wouldn’t believe it. He was well aware you knew what he was talking about. The touch. How Ashley had frozen when you’d touched her leg.

“Whatever, play stupid.” He scoffed with a half smile — a knowing smile. The bastard. “Just saying, she seems attached to you.”

“Oh, and she’s not with you, her hero?” You bit back with a hint of humor. Your voices were still low, hoping Ashely was asleep — or she couldn’t hear you if she wasn’t.

Leon laughed quietly, a rough scoff sound that echoed in your ears. You smiled at little at that sound. “Whatever you say,”

You frowned, gaining the confidence to shuffle onto your side, facing him as you contemplated what that simple, yet heavy ‘whatever’ meant. “What do you mean, whatever?”

Leon sighed, rolling onto his side to face you too. His eyes, still so blue even in the darkness of the motel room, bore into yours. It seemed he didn’t carry the same awkward feeling about this topic as you did. Or, maybe he did and he just hid it exceptionally well. But knowing him, that didn’t seem right.

“She’s just attached to you. Always at your side, or chatting your ear off. And what the hell was with that earlier?” He continued, brows furrowed in their eternal frown.

“I was patching her up. Making sure none of her cuts were infected.” You half shrugged, trying to play it off as something simple, even though it was so complex.

“She looked like she wanted to kiss you or something.”

“Oh, my God,” you rolled your eyes, trying to push away the way your chest tightened at the though. “You’re so fucking dramatic. She wasn’t gonna kiss me.”

“Okay,” Leon shrugged, his tone final and casually dismissive. Like he was finished talking about it. Like he didn’t believe you but didn’t want to say so.

“She was not going to kiss me.” You pushed, voice quiet yet firm. Your own brows were pulled into a frown, like what he’d said was offensive.

But it wasn’t. Kissing Ashley wasn’t a bad thought. It wasn’t as if you’d never kissed another girl before. The first time you had was in the training program for USSTRATCOM, your training partner who made you realize that all girls don’t look at other girls that way. She was the first, others followed.

Ashley was pretty, very pretty. Tall, pretty lips, and the blonde hair, blue eye thing, of course. Kissing her wouldn’t be so bad, really. It would probably be very nice. But nothing like kissing Leon, though.

“Okay.” Leon said again, shifting to lay on his back again, letting his eyes close. The finality of it all aggravated you. So, you asked him a question maybe you shouldn’t have.

“What if she did?” You asked, eyes narrowed and trained on him. A smile bloomed on your face at the way his eyes opened, his brows furrowing deeper at your question.

“What about it? It’s not my business.” Leon grumbled. But the tone he used made it wound like it was very much his business.

“M’kay.” You nodded, quietly celebrating to the way you’d seemed to have stumped him, surprised him.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He stared at the ceiling, and you stared at him. It was deadly quiet, the rhythmic sound of Ashley’s breathing the sole sound in the room.

“Did you want her to?” Leon asked, mumbling quietly. His eyes stayed on the ceiling, as if he were afraid to look you in the eye when you answered. Afraid you had an answer he wouldn’t like.

“I dunno.” You admitted, honestly. You didn’t know, truly you didn’t. Kissing Ashely wouldn’t be so bad, but you hardly knew the girl. Not to mention her heavy attachment to you. It could get worse if she kissed you.

Leon nodded, not sure of how to answer your admission. He laid there, your eyes on him as you laid on your side. You wished so desperately for him to kiss you, or hold you, or do something. It was painful, the thought that he didn’t feel the same.

“Would that bother you?” You dared to ask, voice so low it was almost inaudible as you spoke.

Leon was still quiet for a long moment, maybe considering whether to answer seriously or with his usual dry humor. The latter won. “Not something I’d wanna walk in on.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Why? Because we’re girls?”

“Because she’d be kissing you.” He responding, saying it lightly, like the meaning of that simple sentence wasn’t the heaviest thing you’d ever heard.

Your mind did circles, your heart raced. Did he mean that because you were his partner? Or did he mean it out of jealousy. God, you hoped it was jealousy.

“What do you mean by that?” You questioned, voice apprehensive and unsure.

Leon shrugged, a soft, unintelligible grunt falling from his lips. He didn’t look over at you, his eyes still trained on the ceiling. The nagging feeling that was ever present in your chest worsened. The silence was deafening, painful. Then, finally, he spoke.

“It’d just be weird. It’s Ashely, it’d be weird.” He mumbled, like even he didn’t believe his own answer.

Leon’s words befuddled you, made you frown in contemplation. “Because it’s Ashley? What you mean by that?”

“I mean it’s Ashley. It’d be weird.” He repeated, not clarifying at all. This annoyed you.

Eyes narrowed, lips in a line, you scoffed. “Thanks for the explanation.”

“Anytime,” Leon clipped back playfully. But you were in no playful mood.

You huffed, Leon picking up on your attitude as you sat up in bed. “Seriously, what’d you mean by that?”

Leon let out a scoff of his own, rolling his eyes as he looked over at you. “I mean it’s just a weird thought. You and Ashley. We, we just met her, okay?”

“Oh,” you nodded, wishing you hadn’t jumped to your own conclusions internally. You’d thought he meant it was weird because she wasn’t him. Or maybe that he wanted to kiss you. Not such a simple and obvious answer.

“Yeah,” he nodded, letting out a small sigh to stifle a yawn. “Look, can we get some sleep now? Kinda have a long trip home tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” You mumbled, lying back down on your back, eyes on the cracked ceiling once again.

It was quiet again, the discomfort of silence present once more as Ashley slept in the bed next to yours, and Leon tired to sleep beside you. Your mind buzzed with a thousand variations of the same question: why did Leon actually care so damn much?

“Go to sleep. You think too loud.” Leon grumbled, shifting to lay on his side, back facing you.

“At least some of us think,” you quipped quietly, earning a scoff of a laugh from him before he went silent for the final time that night.

Of course Leon woke up at dawn. The asscrack of fucking dawn. And it wasn’t like he was quiet either. Shuffling of his feet as he stumbled to the bathroom, the sink creaking on. You tried so hard to stay asleep, but your stupid internal alarm clock was ringing too. Oh to be in D.C. where it was still dark.

“C’mon, get up. We need to get moving.” Leon said, his voice somewhat gentle as he rested a hand on your shoulder once he’d emerged from the bathroom, fully changed.

“I’m up. You’re loud.” You mumbled, voice muffled as you pressed your face into the pillow.

“Jesus,” Leon whispered under his breath. “Even Ashely’s up.”

“Good for her,” you nestled deeper into the pillow, hearing a second set of footsteps head toward the bathroom. Less than five short seconds later, Leon yanked the covers from your body, sending a muffled yelp from your lips.

“Up, we need to move.” Leon said again, giving your leg a small shake as you grumbled on about a lack of sleep. His gentleness was gone now, replaced by urgency.

Technically, you were still on ‘enemy grounds’. You weren’t safe until you were back on U.S. soil, and even then there carried a risk with Ashley in tow.

So, with more sour encouragement from Leon, you got up and changed into your now dry clothes. Once Ashely used up her turn in the bathroom, you took yours. And not long after, the three of you were heading back toward the lobby of the shabby motel.

You managed to convince Leon to stick around for an extra thirty minutes for a shitty cooked breakfast in the sad excuse for a dining room where the motel offered complimentary breakfast.

Once full of frozen scrambled eggs, stale toast, and really bad coffee, the three of you were on the move once more. It was tricky, getting home like this. Hunnigan had promised that of you made it to a certain location a few miles north of the motel, there would be a chopper waiting to pick you up. Hunnigan hadn’t failed you yet, so you didn’t doubt her.

“How much further?” Ashley asked, her brows creased, forehead already glistening with sweat as the three of you walked through the winding streets of a small village as you had been for the past few hours.

“Not too much. Tired?” You asked, slowing your steps to walk alongside the girl.

She nodded, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Sympathy panged in your chest — Ashley wasn’t built for this like you and Leon were. The two of you had trained for exhausting situations such as these, she had not. You frowned.

“Need some water?” You asked gently, holding out a canteen from your belt. Ashley nodded vigorously, taking the canteen and drinking deeply.

You motioned to Leon to stop for a moment, he frowned, but did nonetheless. You stood with Ashley as she drank, taking a break before going back to drinking the water.

“Thanks,” she smiled, handing the canteen back to you — now half empty. “Sorry, I drank a lot.”

“That’s okay. Can’t have you passing out on us now, can we?” You smiled, taking a sip yourself before latching it back on your belt.

Leon, noticing that Ashely was finished with her break, began walking again. You and Ashely followed, keeping a small bit of distance between you and Leon.

“Hey, I um, I overheard you and Leon talking last night. Not everything, but some of it.” Ashley confessed, her voice a bit hesitant.

“Oh, that so? What’d you hear exactly?” You asked casually, worry springing in your chest.

“Just, I’m sorry because I know you guys have a like, groove or whatever. And I mess it up and I make it weird.”

You frowned for a moment, thinking about her words. Then it hit you — she didn’t hear about the kissing discussion, just the last bit about her being new to the trio.

“Oh, Ashely. You don’t make anything weird. Leon and I… we weren’t talking about you making things weird.” You promised, lips curved downward as you and Ashley walked behind Leon.

“Then why’d Leon say that?” Ashely asked, the insecurity obvious in her voice.

You hesitated, unsure whether or not to say it to her face. That he’d thought you two were going to kiss. After a moment of consideration — and seeing Ashely’s sad, curious eyes — you decided to just say it. Consequences be damned.

“Because he thought you were going to try to kiss me. When he came out of the bathroom last night.” You explained gently, shrugging as if it weren’t a big deal. When it kind of was.

The girl was quiet for a long moment, her brows creased, lips turned downward. She swallowed, looking back at you from where she’d been staring at her feet. “And he meant it’d be weird if I did kiss you?”

“Yeah, that’s what he meant. Not because we’re girls,” you were quick to interject your previous statement. “But because it’s just… that you and I don’t really know each other that well.”

Ashley nodded, walking beside you as you followed Leon along the uneven stone paths. Every once in a while, he’d glance backward to make sure you weren’t lingering behind or somehow gotten lost.

“Okay,” one simple word carried such finality. It shook you — Ashley was uncomfortable.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel weird. I just wanted to be honest.” You tried to explain gently but firmly. You didn’t want her to think you were strange.

“You didn’t make me feel weird.” Ashely shook her head, eyes squinting in the mid-afternoon sun as she looked over at you.

You smiled a little, relieved you hadn’t put her off or made her uncomfortable. That really was the last thing you wanted. “Good,”

The three of you continued to walk along, and a little further up, you demanded a break. Leon huffed, claiming you didn’t have time for a break. But the sun was warm and you were quickly running out of water.

So, you stopped for a quick fifteen minutes before setting off again. Leon was walking much quicker than before — dead set on getting to the extraction point before sundown. Which was very much possible as you were a mere four miles away.

There was a chopper waiting, just as Hunnigan had promised. God, you’d mentally decided to name your first born after her, so thankful to finally leave Spain and sit your ass down.

You sat beside Leon in the back compartment of the chopper, all three of you sporting massive headsets to protect your ears. You chatted away with the pilot — a friend of Hunnigan’s named Danny who was funny, and reminded you of the late Mike who died in pursuit of getting you and Leon out of trouble in the village.

With the promise of a good meal and actual hot showers, Danny flew the three of you home. You were busy looking outside the chopper when Leon nudged your knee with his, earning a slightly venomous glare from you before he pointed to Ashley. Who was dead asleep across from you.

The ride back to D.C. was long, around six hours. Most of which were spent talking with Danny or falling asleep, slumped against Leon’s shoulder. Around twenty minutes before you were set to land — you and Leon had been previously discussing what you were doing first, eating, sleeping, or showering — you shook Ashley awake.

The poor thing was groggy and half asleep as you all filed off the chopper and bid goodbye to Danny — whom you’d made a promise to meet up with and have drinks in honor of Mike at his favorite bar he’d mentioned before he tragically died.

A government issued SUV waited for you, instructing the three of you to pile into the back so you could be taken straight to the President, then to testing. Which you put up a damn good fight. Who the fuck cared about testing? You were hungry and tired and dehydrated as hell. Leon shut you up quick though, despite not being happy about the arrangement himself.

Unfortunately, the car ride was around a half an hour. The driver — not as intimidating had he’d first appeared — flicked between radio stations ntil he landed on one he knew was Ahsley’s favorite. (Apparently he’d been the one to drive Ashely to college, so he knew what music she liked).

Much to Ashely’s dismay and deathly embarrassment, the fucking Backstreet Boys were playing. The driver turned it up, also having the knowledge that this particular track was one of Ashley’s favorites.

Unfortunately, you knew the lyrics too. You mumbled along with them, Leon biting back a smile at how ridiculous his own field partner could be.

“You like the Backstreet Boys?” Ashely asked, her cheeks a bit warm as you bopped your head to the beat and hummed along.

“Nah, but don’t be embarrassed.” You shook your head, smiling at the girl who was sitting between you and Leon.

“Music is music, blondie.” Leon agreed, nodding his head with your positive attitude. He looked back over Ashely’s head at you, trying hard not to smile at your antics. God, you could be so stupidly immature sometimes.

“Oh,” Ashley mumbled, slinking down further in her seat as the driver made the final turn and parked the SUV.

Leon exited first, then Ashley, and you to follow up the rear. You and Leon were armed, still charged with protecting Ashely, no matter the fact that you were indeed on U.S. soil again, and at the White House. The President didn’t greet you outside to your surprise, but you were ushered immediately to his office.

There he was reunited with his daughter, the emotional moment making you have to quietly clear your throat because it even choked you up to see Ashley so happy to see her father again.

You and Leon were thanked profusely, promised your compensation and the highest of honors and awards. To which you didn’t really want (except the money, fuck, you wanted the money), but you knew better than to even try to deny.

With that, you and Leon were quickly dismissed, told you were being led to government testing to be sure you really were clear of the parasites. You gave Ashley a quick goodbye smile and hug, Leon giving her a pat on the shoulder, telling her to behave herself.

She looked so unsure, so strange standing in the Oval Office, clothes grimy and blood stained, hair mussed as she watched you and Leon being escorted from the room.

The First Daughter felt a strange sort of emptiness in her chest then, watching you leave. Her brows furrowed as her father spoke incessantly to her about how worried he’d been and how much he missed her. You were agents, assigned to bring her home and leave. No more, no less. So why was she so devastated to see you go?

Of course, you felt a little sad to leave the girl behind. Despite spending only around forty-eight hours with Ashley, you found yourself realizing you’d miss her. Her smile and her comments and her laugh. The way she always asked if you were alright when you should have been doing so to her. How she tried her hardest to defend you and Leon, despite her chronic helplessness.

These things were not spoken to Leon though as you two walked out of the White House together, followed by guards back to the SUV you’d arrived in. But, even though you didn’t say it, you knew Leon felt it too. Somehow, in forty-eight short hours, Ashley had left a mark on you. The both of you. And you missed her already.

“Wait!” You stopped in your tracks, you and Leon almost simultaneously looking over your shoulder to see Ashley running out of the White House after you. She was panting, trying to catch up.

She ran to Leon first, wrapping her arms around his neck, taking the agent by such surprise it made him stumble backwards a bit. Leon wasn’t much of a hugger, you knew this personally. But, despite the action being hesitant and awkward, he hugged her back.

After a few moments — which you knew in your bones were long for Leon — he gave her a quick pat on the back. Ashely took the motion in stride and unlinked herself, smiling at him.

Then, she turned to you. Of course, you expected a hug as well, and you got one. She wrapped her arms around your neck too, you wrapped your arms around her middle, hugging her back with no hesitation. But what you hadn’t expected, was for her to lean back and press a kiss to your lips.

You paused, frozen, eyes wide as Ashley kissed you. What the fuck? She wasn’t a bad kisser, actually. You felt a little bad, not kissing her back as Ashley pulled away, letting go of you and taking a step back. You sort of wished you had kissed her back. But, as the girl stood there, she held no contempt for the fact that you hadn’t. She knew she’d taken you by complete surprise.

“Thank you, both of you. I know I already said it, but thank you for saving my life. It, it means a lot.” Ashely said, her lips — which had been as soft as you thought they were — curved in a sweet smile. Baby blue eyes darted between you and Leon.

Leon who was as shocked as you that Ashley had kissed you with such little hesitation. He was still recovering as well.

Ashely said no more, just offering one last wide smile before turning around and walking away. Her guard — which had followed her outside, running behind her — escorted her. She didn’t even look back, didn’t get a second look at the still shocked look on your face.

“Holy fuck,” you said finally, looking away from Ashley’s retreating figure to look at Leon. He was shocked as well, brows raised as he blinked for a moment.

“Yep, that was weird.” Leon mumbled, nodding as if in affirmation. He said no more, turning around and walking to the SUV, leaving you in momentary silence.

You blinked yourself back to the present, realizing Leon’s comment. You frowned, turning and quickly walking to the SUV as well. “So I didn’t just have a dehydration induced hallucination? She actually kissed me?”

“She actually kissed you,” Leon nodded as he buckled in the SUV, you climbing in and sitting beside him. The car started and rolled out of the parking lot.

“Oh my God.” You said, brows raised, shaking your head. You were unsure of what else there really was to say. You were at a total loss for words.

“Fucking weird.” Leon shook his head, whispering again.

This caused you to look over at him, brows raised. “Why? Because we’re girls?” You brought up your challenge from the previous night, knowing full well you’d get the same damn response.

“No, because it's you.”

You frowned deeper, lips downturned. Oh, you liked a good fucking challenge. “You think I’m like, un-kissable, or something, Kennedy?”

Leon rolled his eyes, exhaustion obviously catching up to him. He looked tired — physically and mentally. “I didn’t say that. It’s just weird.”

“See, that’s not an explanation. Just like it wasn’t last night.” You chided, eyes narrowed.

“Christ,” Leon mumbled under his breath as shook his head, clearly regretting ever speaking in the last five minutes. “It’s just weird to see my partner being kissed like that.”

You took this as your chance, a grin forming on your lips. “By another girl? Or just in general?”

“General.” Leon responded, obviously not caring of how bored it sounded.

“Jealous or something?” You challenged further, lips pulled in a shit-eating grin.

Oh you’d gotten him there. You could tell by the way Leon’s shoulders tensed and his too casual expression that he was, indeed, sickeningly jealous. An idea — stupid, one that may ruin your dynamic — popped into your head.

You turned your body to face Leon in the backseat, grinning as he frowned at your sudden closeness. With no hesitation or moment for him to react, you leaned forward and kissed him. Square on the mouth. It must be a thing for blondes to have really soft lips.

Leon didn’t say a word, didn’t pull back, didn’t move. He just let you kiss him. Which was strange in and of itself. You placed a hand on his cheek, him a hand on the back of your neck. Eureka, he’d wanted to kiss you all along. Fuck yes, that’s all you could think.

Leon was a decent kisser too, a really good kisser actually. You scooched a little closer, allowing him to hold you by the back of your neck, your body relaxed against his as if it were natural to do so.

Was this what Ashely was feeling when she’d kissed you? Absolute elation and joy? You didn’t let yourself wonder too much, getting swept up in the fact that you were kissing Leon. His hand was gentle yet firm on the back of your neck, your hand on his cheek drifting down to rest against his chest. This moment, God you wished it could last forever.

Which unfortunately, it didn’t. You heard someone clear their throat, the driver looking at you through the rear view mirror. You pulled back, cheeks a little warm. You must look like some sort of girl. Someone who got around maybe. First the First Daughter had kissed you, now you were verging on making out with your field partner in the backseat of a government vehicle.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, pulling away from Leon and sitting back on the seat.

Leon scoffed to himself, letting his hand fall from where it’d been resting on the back of your neck. “You’re stupid,”

“Excuse me?” You let out a small laugh. You’d kissed him and he was calling you stupid? What the hell?

“I can’t believe it took you that long to realize.” Leon shook his head, making you roll your eyes. He’d been jealous the whole time. So the comment of how weird it’d been that Ashley would kiss you — and actually had — was exactly what you thought. Huh, you were some amateur detective.

“Shut up,” you smiled, mumbling as you crossed your arms over your chest, sinking into the seat.

“Nope.” Leon shook his head, making you smile wider.

Maybe these tests wouldn’t be so bad, now that you had two kisses to think on. One you could only ever remember, and one you could receive a million more of once all this was over.

how you can help Palestine! 🇵🇸

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x reader #Leon Kennedy x reader x Ashley graham #ashley graham #ashley graham x reader #ellieslaces

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quirekey · 13 days ago

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hey! I rlly rlly love your writing and I was hoping I could request Rb Chase X a female human reader that can actually sing, bc we all know Chase can’t sing….reader is coming to griffin rock to try out for some sort of audition the mayor did (who knows what goes on in this dudes head atp) and was also planning to visit the burns. The burns, and the bots, watch her sing in the audition and chase is js like: 😱 I literally love the guy, he’s so silly.

You can do this either as hcs or a fic, doesn’t matter!

Reader is like a part of the burns family, like a sister to the family but is just a rlly close friend that grew up with Kade, Dani, and Graham (before Cody was born) Tysm!! Also, Merry late Christmas and have a happy new year!!🩵

WAWAW FINALLY RESCUE BOTS MY BELOVED CHASE MY BELOVED AAAAAAAA!!! ALSO TYSM MOOT! MERRY CHRISTMASD TO YOU TOO! I’ll do a fanfic because you are aawesome mootie

[ CHASE ] x [ FEMME!READER ]

[ chase x human!femme!singer!reader ] [ part 1 ]

Part 2

Chase knew you awhile back. The Chief told Chase and the ther rescue bots about why you are around in the station so often. You were a closer friend of Graham, Kade and Dani, they all saw you as an unrelated-sister. Chase didn’t understand at first but he didn’t mind your presence.

When the mayor announced an audition for a play that he was setting up, the Burns immediately knew you would’ve gone for it. The three siblings were talking about how you do sing but you never sang to them, they found out because Kade was ease-dropping on you when you were on a call.

(Let's say it was a different audition since the one last-time did go wrong)

When the auditions were in session, the Burns family, Boulder and Chase were there to make sure it’s safe and to watch. Like last time, there were many talented people in line to audition, you included. The excitement the Burns family showed was over the roof, mostly Dani since you’re closest to her.

When you came up to sing, oh how Chase’s face changed so fast at your melodic and mature singing. You sounded so different to what he usually hears and the soundwaves of your voice pierced through him. He shut his optics and listened through the whole thing while body-guarding outside of the building. Chase relaxed slightly and he had a light blue tint to his face ( which is blush ). Chief was the only one who noticed this and he caught on pretty quickly. Chase was either in-love with you or admired you and it looked adorable. Seeing a massive sentient robot admire a small human for something so poetic is pretty unique.

( Chief Charlie )

”Chase, are you okay?”

( Chase )

”… Oh- Of course, chief. I am just overheating because of the weather.”

Charlie clearly didn’t believe him, it was just a warm; sunny day. Your singing suddenly comes to a stop and Chase looks somewhat disappointed, failing to mask his true feelings with his stoic face. This only proved Charlie’s suspicions.

When you came out, you were suddenly jumped by Dani who praised you with hugs and love. Graham and Boulder were both congratulating you from the side while Kade gave an impressed expression. Chief then came up to you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

”You did an extraordinary job, kid, keep up the work.”

( Y/N )

“Thank you so mu- Wait, did you three come to listen to me sing..?”

( Dani )

“Of course, (Y/N)! A little birdie told me you could sing so we had to check it out.”

“You guys are something else… Thank you guys so much!”

“Well done, (Y/N), you have gained my trust and admiration.”

You turned to see Chase beside the Chief, he’s stoic and blushing… You knew Chase a little, how liked to sing but he wasn’t good at it or that he memorised all of the laws and rules on both Cybertron and Griffin Rock.

”Thank you, Chase. You're not bad yourself.”

THE END… or to be continued

( wink wink )

Sorry it was so short, it was either short or way tooooo long 😔 if you want more, just ask lolol

#transformers #rescue bots #rb #rb chase #transformers x reader #chase #chase x reader #rescue bots x reader #quirekey replies #headcanons

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deceptive-daydreams · 1 year ago

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Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Twelve - The Holiday Season Begins

W/C: 8.7K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

"I've got my eye on you."

Say Yes To Heaven - L.D.R

A/N: Wow I think this is the longest I've gone without posting a chapter. I really hope you guys enjoy this one. I wrote it in bits and pieces and read it over several times. I would really really really love to know what you think, this one is so special and personal to me.

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Sugary apple goo.

You think back to Thanksgiving back home, a ruckus constant in the kitchen as dinner is prepared, more than enough food to feed an entire village. Pots and pans clank together, trays create an echo as they are not-so-carefully placed atop the counter. Dinner rolls are burned but still enjoyed with warm cinnamon butter. The potatoes are a touch too lumpy but still desirable with notes of rosemary and an ungodly amount of garlic. Various smells, both sweet and savory flood the house, your poor, stressed out mother churning out dish after dish, siblings all engaged in some kind of ball game out in the street just after watching the Thanksgiving Day parade.

You tend to the green bean casserole, an easy dish that you couldn’t screw up even with your limited attention span. Cream of Mushroom soup from a can seemed so repulsive in itself although it brought the whole dish together. It didn’t matter that seconds prior it slumped against the green beans still in the shape of the can, nearly gelatinous. Once stirred in and baked with crispy onions layered over the top, it was a masterpiece. A five star dish in your book.

It would only be a matter of time before grandma showed up with her famously delicious apple pie, the crust coated in extra amounts of grainy sugar, the dish still piping hot. And the “sugary apple goo” as you used to call it at the age of three already had your mouth watering just thinking about it, crispy apples so fresh and topped with syrupy caramelized sauce topped off with cinnamon and nutmeg, all wrapped up in a flaky, buttery crust.

You sigh, piling the apple mixture on top of the homemade graham cracker crust. It wasn’t clear to you just how lonely Thanksgiving morning would be without anyone around. Sure, you had Donnie’s to look forward to this evening but until then, you were on your own, the parade quietly playing on the TV though you hadn’t been very impressed with the floats this year. Holiday depression was kicking in, a kind you hadn’t experienced yet. They were usually always a happy time, family surrounding you and distracting you from the lonesome thoughts you usually had. This year it started feeling more like a ton of bricks was sitting on your chest, no one able to aid in providing you with some kind of task such as the honor of making the green bean casserole to ease the pressure.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t just make the controversially delicious dish, you had everything stashed in the pantry. It just didn’t feel right. It went unnoticed by you that tears were slowly sliding down your cheeks until a fat one landed on your wrist as you finished spooning the apple filling.

Again?

In that moment you swear you looked the most pitiful you had ever looked in your entire life, tears trailing down your face silently, all alone, homesick. You should be in your pajamas playing some kind of a board game on the coffee table in the living room, surrounded by your siblings. Not throwing yourself a pity party while spreading apple goo. To top it off, your hands had gotten completely covered, the sauce making your fingers undesirably sticky. You hadn’t quite reached the point of sobs yet though you suppose if you let the goo linger on your hands any longer you would.

Some comforting folk music your grandpa used to play religiously rang through the house though you felt no such comfort. Not as much as you’d hoped anyway. It brought a familiar sense of his essence to you, his passing three years ago not settling right in your heart. It only made you more homesick.

But you weren’t going to let yourself soak in salty tears and sticky apples. No, you washed your hands in soothing warm water, the sludge sliding right off and into the metal of the sink, eyes puffy and red but void of tears for the time being. You’d sucked them back and changed the music to something more upbeat, some Elvis that your grandpa had also engrained deeply into your brain though you hoped the faster tempo would brighten your spirits and ignite the happy memories.

Only, it landed you on the couch in a whole new sea of sobs this time as Unchained Melody lingered in the lonely room. There was no getting a grip on the gut-wrenching, stomach-aching isolation you were feeling, sanity was long gone. You were supposed to be trimming the dough that was meant to create the criss cross pattern for the pie, you were supposed to be enjoying your glass of wine as you sang under your breath to familiar tunes, you were supposed to be okay.

It was you, after all, who had made the decision to move, right? It was you who picked up your entire life and plopped it right in the middle of some unknown mountain town in search of yourself. You feared that you were just losing yourself instead, forgetting just after a few months what it felt like to be surrounded by loved ones, forgetting how it felt to come home to a full house after a grueling shift at the local Denny’s. You smelled of burnt coffee and dry eggs, your hair greasier than the literal grease trap, but none of that mattered the second you stepped into the coziness of the living room, all family dysfunction left at the door.

The tears wouldn’t stop though you still managed to force yourself off of the couch, wiping snot away with the back of your hand as you stared at the messy kitchen in despair. Everything suddenly seemed so…impossible. How were you meant to do anything while simultaneously questioning your entire existence, your entire meaning of life?

You had been in such disarray that cleaning up as you went didn’t even seem close to an option, nearly every pot and pan either set on top of the stove or thrown in the sink, whisks and spatulas scattered among the mess, and apple skins littering the floor. Now you were taking in the aftermath, not even having the finished product to show as an excuse for the complete disaster, even the dough still rolled out on the cutting board. You had hours left to prepare though it felt like seconds ticking by to inevitable disappointment.

The end of the world felt like it weighed down on your shoulders yet you did what you did best each time. You set it aside and pressed on. It was never simple, weak hands grasping the dull knife, slicing through the dough to create uniform strips. Motivation was running dry, the desire to grace everyone with the most delicious apple pie they’d ever tasted was out the window, you could only do what your body allowed.

And like every other time you had to pull yourself out of the gutter. Life began to bleed back into your eyes as your creation came back to life. Puffiness still remained throughout your face, eyes still droopy but slowly your drive kicked back into gear. Sniffles from previous snotty tears continued but nothing felt better than laying down the last layer of dough over the apple filling, a quest conquered.

Finishing off your cheap red wine, you reward yourself by licking off the spoon you’d used for the filling. The kitchen still required a good scrub down but you could live with the mess a little while longer as you indulged in the sweetness. Something well deserved. You didn’t even want to think about the nightmare that Christmas was about to become, decorating your tree with only the company of your dreaded thoughts. That was a scenario you were not willing to wander into, at least not until it would actually happen. There was no sense in making yourself live through it twice, your brain longing to torture you with irrational possibilities.

Elvis’s voice continues to carry through the living room, a second glass of wine being poured in hopes of easing your homesickness, attempting to neglect thoughts of what you would usually be doing right now. It was barely working, only leaving you feeling slightly lazy with a good layer of sadness still looming over you like a storm cloud. There was no extinguishing the sorrows you felt for familiarity and the comfort the holidays were supposed to bring you.

Sudden knocking sends you into a brief panic, unexpected guests were not in the cards for your lonesome morning that had only served to encourage your crybaby tendencies. At the very least you got a pie out of it.

The knocking persists as you scramble up from your depressing divot on the couch, a certain urgency waving over you at the speed of the knocks. They were rapid, quick pecks at the wood, a worrisome speed that usually constituted an emergency in the end.

Why today, why now?

With a heavy sigh, you swing the door open, glass of half-finished wine in one hand while the other runs down your drained face. You expect some kind of eviction notice; god knows why since you own the place. Maybe the check hadn’t reached the mortgage company, maybe it had been intercepted in transit. The last thing you expect on your doorstep is a wide-eyed Eddie cradling a large bowl in one arm. His gray sweatpants swallow his legs and hang low on his hips, a sliver of his tummy on display in between his t-shirt and pants.

It’s conflicting. Do you act concerned and start begging the questions: Did something happen? Who’s injured? Or do you exhale in relief as a tiny smile tugs at the corners of his mouth even in his somewhat distressed state? It can’t be that bad if he still finds it in himself to smile, right?

“I, uh, I need help.” He says sheepishly.

Ever since the night of the hoedown, he’d been a new kind of shy with you. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t adore it because truth be told, big bad Eddie Munson who previously chewed you out for being so bashful was now getting a taste of his own medicine. Except you had been much kinder than he initially was, though it was fun to tease him and force his face to turn a vibrant tomato red.

“Help?” You smirk, swirling your wine as if you were some kind of connoisseur. “My, my, how the tables have turned.”

“Bambi.” He groans, still maintaining focused eye contact with the wood planks of your porch.

“Eddie.”

It’s said so softly, in a way that reduces him to a puddle, his knees could give out at any moment if you so much as looked at him a certain way which had been why he refused to catch your gaze. He internally curses himself for automatically counting under his breath, unable to stop himself: one, two, three, one, two, three.

In an instant your face falls, he only ever counted when he was stressed from what you could gather. It was a learning curve, navigating Eddie’s quirks.

“Hey.” You soothe, gingerly grabbing his wrist with your free hand. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

His curls bounce with a shake of his head, his eyes fluttering shut. The counting stops but he still comes across as fuzzy. Disoriented.

“Come inside.” You whisper, gently tugging him through the door, your wine abandoned at the entry table in the process. “It’s freezing out.”

Instinctually he hands you the bowl he’d been cradling close to his body with a wooden spoon sticking out. Upon further inspection, a mountain of mashed potatoes-or should you say lumps of potatoes are piled up within the bowl. The skins are still intact, way too many if he intended to make smooth and creamy potatoes. They’d be much less than enjoyable in the state they were currently in.

“I fucked them up.” He whispers.

The sight you’re met with is that of a small child in a grown man’s body, his large eyes pleading. You’re forced to realize that today may very well be much worse for him than it is for you. He’d warned you that he didn’t do holidays and here he was, a nervous wreck turning up on your doorstep in a panic with lumpy potatoes. And suddenly you felt so selfish.

“That’s okay.” You assure him, tracing a tender thumb over his bicep. He looked so lost. “Eddie, it’s okay.” You repeat with a nod.

“I just, I was gonna buy something from the store, and then, I just thought–I dunno maybe I’d at least try.” He tugs on his curls, a bit too harshly for your liking. “I don’t know why I even tried.” He sighs in defeat.

It’s enough to break your heart.

“Eddie.”

Turmoil flashes in his eyes, stress apparent in the way his brows furrow and his frown lines grow deeper. His lips are red, most likely bitten, and he can’t stop twisting one of his rings around his finger. He looks to be as much of a wreck as you felt although the symptoms seem to be much more apparent in his appearance than yours. Your slightly swollen eyes were nothing compared to his tousled curls, anxieties littered across his face and trembling hands unable to be subtly hidden without the crutch of sleeves.

“I, uh, I-I shouldn’t have bothered.” He mutters, reaching for the door.

You intercept him, your hand wrapping around his elbow while you attempt to meet his eyes. He freezes in his escape, your touch rendering him paralyzed, your fingers suddenly too determined in digging into the meat of his arm. Not meanly. Never meanly. More concerned. Concerned for the way he cowers away the second he’s offered any fraction of help. Perhaps it’s hypocritical of you to regard him with such worry when you yourself present the same behaviors under the same circumstances and expect no such treatment.

Your expression offers a certain softness that he’s come across one too many times since you’d barged into his life and taken his heart hostage. You’d never know you committed such a crime. And he’d never outright tell you of the ache that sat deep in his chest that he had no clue how to satiate. All he knew was that he could not jeopardize this. If he could get through the holidays, if he could get to January and you were still around, then, and only then would he be convinced that he had finally lifted whatever fucked up, out-of-this-world curse that had haunted him all his life.

“It’s okay.” Barely above a whisper, you assure him.

Eddie doesn’t remember making his way into your kitchen, he can’t recall your delicate hand pulling him along until you let go to discard his potato concoction onto the counter and he realizes he’s taken the warmth for granted in a haze of existential dread. Like a lost puppy, he stares at your fingertips as they linger on the counter while you lean over to reach for an empty casserole dish. The entirety of your kitchen cabinets had thrown up all over the counters, a reflection of the way his brain felt. Scattered.

“Potatoes are actually super complicated.”

His ears perk up, unsure of how to conjure up a response. Instead, he raises his eyebrows, fearful of how dumb he could make himself look with just a few syllables. It wasn’t like him to care so deeply what others thought of him.

“That’s why I avoid them. Instead–” You turn around only to pull out a can of green beans and a can of cream of mushroom. “-work smarter, not harder.”

Eddie knows he should be hanging onto every word you say and usually he would be, he knows. Except he can’t help but tune into the melody of Blue Christmas that had been echoing off the kitchen walls from your record player across the room.

The damn record player. And the records.

He didn’t realize how much the records still affected him. He had his own collection now, sure. But anything that resembled the essence of his Mama, lived safely and soundly on its dedicated shelf in his room, untouched. It took him years to rebuild Mama’s collection.

“Sorry can we-” He makes his way toward the record player, his face contorted nearly painfully before lifting the needle. “I just-I can’t think.”

Your motions were paused, can opener halfway through the can of beans as your eyes meet him with questions splayed across your face. You don’t ask them. An understanding smile works its way across your lips and god, he doesn’t know why you’re so patient with him after he stepped into your house and suddenly had the uncontrollable urge to shut off your music. As he strides back into the kitchen, a series of apologies haven't even left his mouth and yet-

“So…Green Bean Casserole.” You state, fingers tapping against the tin of each can. “And Sugary Apple Goo.” A vague gesture toward the uncooked pie. “Kind of a…weird duo. Or it will be if I actually get it in the oven-”

“Sorry, what?”

“Apple pie. The apple pie. At home we just call it sugary apple goo, don’t ask why it’s just–it’s just a thing we do.” You clarify, shoving the dessert into the comforting warmth of the oven, shivering at the sensation as goosebumps begin to prick your skin.

“Apple goo.” He repeats. A raised brow disappearing beyond his messy bangs.

Eddie almost forgets the reason why he’d been in such disarray, almost forgets why he even bothered knocking on your door in the first place, only remembers the fact that he was in a panicked state.

“Yeah.” You sigh.

You busy yourself with slopping the now drained green beans into a nearby glass bowl. Your blotchy skin and puffy eyes catch in the stream of sunlight, the kitchen window betraying you as it showcases your true state. Avoiding those large brown eyes is the best you can do, the theory that if you can’t see him he can’t see you dumbly being put to use no matter how aware you are that it makes no sense. Maybe if you act “okay enough”, he’ll chalk it up to the common cold, placing the responsibility for your rudolph-like nose on the yearly infection.

What you fail to realize is that by this point, he’s become too familiar with your teary eyes and sad worry lines that only seemed prominent in your times of distress. Times that he had regretfully been the cause of previously. Words can’t escape his practically sewn-shut-mouth, all sounds dying long before forming on his tongue. It’s impossible to create comfort when he himself has trouble doing so for himself. How could he possibly offer such comfort to someone who deserved kinder words from someone of a higher regard?

“Here, dump this in and mix.” You instruct, forcing a can of cream of mushroom and a wooden spoon in his hands, yanking him out of his mind.

There’s no room for protest, not that he even intended to. Not when you’re standing there with the ghost of tear tracks down your cheeks. Not when you’re this kind. Not when you’re you.

“Okay.” He mutters, a disgusting sound filling his ears from the lumpy soup falling into the bowl.

“After that, pour it in here.” You place a ceramic casserole dish to his right, the dish nearly too large to fit on the cluttered counter though you’re too occupied with tidying up other parts of the kitchen to bother.

“Got it.”

Eddie Munson absolutely hates Thanksgiving. But he doesn’t mind it so much when you’re rustling around behind him, a silent conversation hanging in the air that neither of you are alone in your holiday sorrows, whatever they may be.

You don’t ask why he continues counting under his breath behind you or why his hands are shaking.

And he doesn’t ask why tears linger in your eyes or why you pause to regain your composure after dropping a pan a bit too loudly for your liking, your lip wobbling.

Because the collective understanding is that neither of you is okay. And maybe that’s okay.

–

“Careful, the bottom is–”

“Shit!”

“-hot.”

A ringed hand waves around in an effort to rid it of the burning sensation caused by the bottom of the piping hot casserole dish. Eddie releases a series of curses, the side of the dish pushed against his chest as he balances it between his body and his single arm protected by one of your generously donated dish rags. Your wide eyes caution him in his balancing act, a perfectly crafted green bean casserole at risk due to his negligence as he had taken the liberty of knocking on the door.

“What the fuck, how can fuckin’ beans be so goddamn hot?” Brown eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, his fingertips more than likely singed an angry red.

It’s no laughing matter, not according to the scowl that makes its way across his handsome features but you can’t stop the pull of your lips from forming a large grin, giggles caught in the back of your throat. His irritation disappears just as quickly as it came, harsh edges blurring into softness at the sight of your puffed out cheeks, inflated due to the humor just dying to crawl out of your mouth.

“Oh, shut up.” A nudge of his shoulder against yours has you shaking your head, laughter finally escaping your perfectly glossed lips.

He could write paragraphs about them if it didn’t seem so creepy and stalkerish. So he allowed himself the tiniest of glances, only hoping to paint the full picture in his head ever since you’d quickly puckered your lips in front of your mirror at home to complete your finishing touches while he viewed from the porch where he waited in his black button up and nicest pair of jeans. He’d never been so jealous over a tube of lipgloss. In fact, he’d never in his life been jealous of a tube of lipgloss and he never felt like more of a loser than in that moment.

“I told you.” You mutter, an endearing side eye delivered right into his line of sight. It was something almost child-like, something innocent and not at all like what he’d ever really been on the receiving end of. Maybe because there was a certain flirtiness you were hinting at although he was no expert and had no right to assume.

“I told you.” He mumbles back with a higher pitch, mocking you.

You turn toward him, a comeback on the tip of your tongue when his own tongue interrupts with a taunt, peeking out between his lips swiftly, his nose scrunching up meanly before his full attention is back on the door as it creaks open. And then, a quick wink that only you yourself were a witness to, only creating a stir in your brain as you decipher that no one else would be able to confirm the action.

“Hey!” Donnie greets, arms flung up in excitement as she ushers you into her welcoming home, smells infiltrating your nose, sweet and savory galore.

Before either you or Eddie can even get a simple “hello” in, she’s talking your ear off, something about who all is already in the living room, how far along the turkey is, where the bathroom is, all while guiding you into the spacious dining room. She must have set out her fine china, the gorgeous dishes set all around the table lined with champagne colored silver on the edges of the plates. Two tables had been pushed together, creating enough space for the large number of guests expected. In the center sat an exquisite arrangement of various orange-hued flowers and some greenery.

The house was comforting; not too large and not too small, a two story dream that no doubt had acres of backyard. The Christmas tree had already been set up and decorated, the branches and lights hinting at you from the other room where men roared with laughter, a football game blaring from the TV that contrasted with the familiar voice of Frank Sinatra coming from the stereo. Combined turkey and Santa decorations adorned the interior everywhere you glanced, surfaces that would usually be empty year around were occupied with tacky little figurines that were more endearing than anything. Plastic garland traced the rails of the stairs, littered in fake plastic cranberries, the front room being far more grand than your entire home as you inspected it through the archway of the dining room.

Suddenly your nerves were simmering down, a familiar feeling nestling into the bottom of your chest as your shoulders fell from their tensed position, your fingers letting up on their grip on the pie tin you clutched so desperately. Women squealed from the kitchen, a series of “oh my god”s erupting into the rest of the house, some kind of juicy gossip initiating several gasps as well as some laughter. Your homesickness began to lie dormant, warmth overtaking you as Donnie went on and on about her family members, which ones to avoid sitting next to at all costs and warning you of the aunties that would corner you and beg for details on your love life.

“Just pretend I’m calling you and run as fast as you can in the other direction.” She advises. “And if that doesn’t work, tell ‘em you had too much wine and that it’s making a reappearance. They’ll scatter like flies.”

You laugh along, taking mental notes as she grabs the pie from you, complimenting the smell as she sets it among several other desserts, a whole table dedicated only to sweets. When she goes to grab the green bean casserole from Eddie, you can’t help but pause and watch as his doe eyes trace his surroundings, a clearly unfamiliar environment to him. There’s uncertainty dripping from his demeanor, his single finger tapping against the dish: One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.

“Green bean casserole-Eddie, do you know how many green bean casserole we’ve got? Like you all read each other’s mind, I swear.” Donnie jokes.

“It’s-um, it’s hot.” He cautions her.

Sauntering toward the main table, Donnie proudly sets it on top of a place mat to protect the wood from the heat. Eddie doesn’t budge, seemingly glued to the carpet, his hands still lingering in the air like he had still been holding the dish.

“You okay?” You mouth to him, looking up into his worried eyes, only hoping to soothe the crease in between his eyebrows.

He nods though you suspect he’s being a bit dishonest.

“Oh, c’mon Eddie! You know I’m just pullin’ your leg.” Donnie reassures, a heavy hand falling against his shoulder. “Shoot, I have to go check on the oven. Yell for me if you need anything, both of you, okay?”

“Sure.” You mumble. “Thank you.”

“There’s a fully stocked bar right over there, help yourselves.” She calls as she backs herself up toward the kitchen. “But don’t go too crazy.” She sends a knowing glance, recalling both of your tendencies to take on more than you can handle.

“Why don’t we get some air?” You suggest, unable to comprehend exactly just what was happening in Eddie’s mind although you knew enough to understand that he was miles outside of his comfort zone.

“No, no. I’m good.” A cleared throat doesn’t reassure you enough but you let it go for the time being. Prying wasn’t going to help. “”M gonna get a beer.” He murmurs, chain jingling from his belt as he makes his way toward what you can only assume is the kitchen where Donnie had just disappeared to.

As pathetic as it seemed, you weren’t going to allow yourself to wander around alone, vulnerable to various conversations trapping you in small talk with strangers: an absolute nightmare. Timidly, you follow behind Eddie at a safe distance, holding your breath as you take in the new room full of busy women and many glasses of wine. The smell of gravy heavily lingers, a tinge of the sourly sweet alcohol peeking through as you release your breath and inhale finally.

And then-they were all over him. Sweet older women, ranging from around fifty plus years, all doting on him, cooing at him while complimenting how tall he is and his handsome features. It only forces you to lean your hip against the counter and take in the most captivating scene you’d ever witnessed. His cheeks redden, his entire face matching shortly after as he nods in response, small “thank you”s sneaking past his lips with a sheepish grin threatening to spread across his face, dimples prominent. It’s clear he doesn’t know what to do with the attention, has no recognition of the power he currently holds.

“Is this one yours?!” One woman shrieks, taking your hands in her bony ones.

“Oh-”

“You’re so lucky, he’s such a looker!” Another chimes in.

“We’re not-”

“You better hope he holds onto all that hair throughout the years.” A third nods.

Eddie’s face has never been redder, crimson painting his usually pale skin, a beer pinched in between his fingers as he avoids every single eye in the room. You can only imagine the look on your own face, maybe slightly mortified with a hint of pink pulling at your cheeks due to the unnecessary attention.

“Alright, alright.” Donnie interjects. “Enough, you’re gonna scare ‘em away before they’ve even had a bite to eat!” She waves her hands around, dramatics on full display as she shoos them away like pigeons.

“Thank you.” You whisper, eyes large and surprised.

“Run, run.” Donnie displays wide eyes, gently shoving you both out of the kitchen.

–

Throughout the evening, you kept Eddie in your peripheral. Sure, he was grown and fully capable of taking care of himself but it didn’t worry you any less when holidays weren’t necessarily his favorite thing. Anxieties lurked in the back of your mind the second he started counting earlier, never once fading away no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself that he was fine, now bantering back and forth with Sam.

“That Steve kid really can’t dance.” Nathan laughs, pulling you back into the initial conversation you were having, perched on the couch with a glass of wine set in front of you on the coffee table courtesy of Donnie’s excellent hosting skills.

“Well that’s why he excused himself off the dancefloor.” You softly smile, earning another hearty laugh from the man.

“Hey, but Eddie’s no better.” He jokes, taking a swig of his beer. “Looked like a damn giraffe stumbling over his own legs.”

“I wasn’t very coordinated either!” You defend. “We were a hot mess.” You bury your face in your hands.

“Yeah, I bet Eddie thought you were hot.”

The recliner adjacent to you creaks beneath Jett as he makes himself comfortable, slouching with a beer in his hand.

“Whoa.” Nathan leans forward, ready to reprimand him. “What-”

“That’s okay.” You speak softly, your hand covering the older man’s as an act of keeping the peace, something you did best. Several seconds of contemplation and a glance across the room toward Eddie change your mind.

“Actually-it’s not.” You turn your body toward Jett, a man–child before your eyes that refused to even look at you after his comment. Your hands shake and your cheeks heat with embarrassment, chalking your sudden confidence up to the glass and a half of wine you indulged in.

“What?” Jett furrows his brows, examining his beer far too aggressively as a means to avoid you.

“It’s not okay.” You whisper, a wimpy excuse of a defense.

“What’s gotten into you, boy?” Nathan scolds through gritted teeth.

Jett’s nearly-black eyes resemble something opposite in comparison to the warmth in those across the room currently harboring a twinkle in an engaged conversation. The boy is unable to get a word in as you quietly begin to address him.

“Look, I’m sorry if I did something wrong.” You regret the tremble in your tone, confrontation was well out of your comfort zone, especially with someone who had been so hostile for no reason. It wasn’t in your DNA to be the “bad guy” even when it would benefit your wellbeing.

Something in your words softens Jett’s eyes, pulls a piece of him back into reality. You weren’t terrorizing him and he couldn’t seem to grasp that ever since that night you had argued with Eddie behind the bar. And you hadn’t spoken a word out of line but you weren’t clueless. Clearly he had an agenda against you and Eddie, it never left your mind since Eddie mentioned that Jett got all over-protective suddenly that night and took it out on him. But what could you do when all he did was puff out his chest rather than have a decent conversation? His frayed emotions were not your responsibility, you owed him nothing if he was going to insist on acting like a toddler in adult situations. You suppose some of it could be due to his lack of years behind yourself and Eddie, Jett still a teenager, almost twenty whereas you had been in your twenties for a few years now. It wasn’t an excuse, just your brain attempting to work out his logic.

“You didn’t–you didn’t do anything wrong.” He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

You don’t offer any words. Only an expectant look. Expecting of some kind of explanation as to why he’d been acting so cruel. And as if the universe decided you didn’t live in enough anguish with your homesickness that morning paired with the current unwanted confrontation, Eddie’s eyes met yours for a brief moment before darting away, a deep sigh and suddenly slouching shoulders clearly indicating some kind of defeat before he quietly stepped out of the room.

“Can we get into this another time?”

You don’t wait for a response, excusing yourself to slip out of the room and follow the trail of cold out the front door, the chill seeping into your bones as your cradle your arms close to yourself. The porch is spacious, something you hadn’t taken notice of earlier when arriving. To your left, Eddie sits on a wooden bench with the family name “Scott” carved into it. A cigarette takes its place between his fingers, his lighter flickering while he lets out a frustrated groan. He places the stick between his lips and cups the flame to hide it from the wind, finally succeeding in lighting it, puffs of smoke escaping through the corners of his mouth.

“I’m not fragile, Bambi. Stop following me around.” He mutters, pulling the cigarette from his lips. There’s no malice detected in his words, just something lacking hope as he stares straight ahead.

Carefully, you sit at the very edge of the bench, your skirt a tad too short to allow you to fully sit back due to the cold surface. You catch a wave of his warmth as he rests his arm on his thigh. It hurts, how far away he feels even being inches from you; his mind might as well be on Jupiter. A momentary glance over at you causes him to sigh deeply, his head dipping down while he shakes it in disappointment.

“And dammit!” Eddie snaps, face twitching in aggravation. “I don’t have a jacket for you this time. Learn how to dress for the cold.” He gestures to your posture, your arms wrapped around your middle in an attempt to savor any warmth, and your jaw clenched shut as a means to keep your teeth from chattering though you can’t seem to contain the shivers nearly rattling your bones.

“I don’t need one.”

He scoffs, disbelief evident in his movements, a fidgeting hand reaching up to scratch the barely-there stubble at his jaw.

“I don’t!” You lie.

You were never one to willingly be dishonest but a little white lie in this case didn’t seem like the end of the world. Not when Eddie’s fragile state of mind seemed to gnaw away at him. You wouldn’t leave him out for the wolves to feed on him; wolves being his never ending thoughts that always without fail, won him over and forced him to crawl back into his comfort zone of isolation. You suppose you weren’t so innocent either, always succumbing to the very same habits.

“Go back inside.” A flick of his cigarette ash towards the ground ignites in the thin layer of snow barely coating the porch before extinguishing.

You can’t help the furrow in your brows, staring at him as if to figure him out, attempting to glance into his large coffee colored irises, to no avail. His shiny eyes dodge your attempts, the windows of his soul closed off, even from you. Not that you were immediately entitled, though you figure with each trauma he had shared with you, he’d at least be able to look you in the eye.

“Come with me.” You chirp. “We’ll taste all the wines. C’mon, and then we’ll be nice and hungry. Drunk eating is the best.” You extend a hand out toward him, your freshly painted nails perfectly imperfect in his peripheral.

“I’m not in the mood, Bambi.”

His gravelly voice has a certain effect on you, one you find not appropriate to dissect right now. He lifts the cigarette back up to his lips, the chance to take one more drag stolen from him as you pluck it from his fingers, tossing it into the snow without regret, stomping your foot on it for good measure.

“Well, get in the mood. Let’s go.”

Boldly, you tug at his arm, unable to move him by yourself, you know. But he willingly melts into your touch, allowing you to pull him up despite his protesting frown. Though he follows you to stand, he doesn’t budge much further than that as you try to drag him back into the cozy warmth of the house. The rounded tip of his nose glows red, the threat of a cold only pushing you to tug on his sleeve with no success in ushering him inside.

“I think ‘m just gonna head home. You think someone else could give you a ride back?” The question is hesitant, no longer wanting to participate in the festivities but still concerned for your well-being, especially if you were going to continue to drink.

Your track record with alcohol wasn’t exactly great and he’d never forgive himself if something happened and he wasn’t there just because the sight of you talking to Jett had left a bad taste in his mouth. But he couldn’t stand it any longer, watching you act so graceful all the time, especially to someone you didn’t particularly like, and then having to pretend that a simple kiss on the cheek didn’t absolutely wreck him. A kiss that you hadn’t since mentioned, and he wasn’t going to humiliate himself by insinuating that you wanted him in that way. No one wanted him in that way.

“What?” You breathe, face shifting into a sadness Eddie wanted to kick himself for. “No, you can’t go–”

“I’m sure Jett is ready and willing to entertain you.”

Low blow. He could always count on himself to deliver a low blow at the worst of times.

Eddie knew now that you had a distaste for Jett, he knew that. And yet he was stupid enough to continue using Jett as ammo against you for no reason other than his own insecurity. If he continued to push you away then it wouldn’t hurt so bad when you realized he was scum of the earth. Trailer trash. A nobody. That’s what he kept telling himself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You fume, crossing your arms.

“I don’t know, Bambi. You tell me cause I can’t figure you out.”

The use of his nickname for you stitched together with words of anguish only further confused you. You couldn’t seem to win.

“Can’t–can’t figure me out?!” You widen your eyes at him, only hoping to convey how ridiculous of a statement it is. “Can’t figure me out. What about you?! You’re the one no one can figure out!”

You’re on the verge of whining, begging in a sense. Pleading with the most stubborn man in the world and god only knows what you’ll do if he doesn’t stand down.

“Maybe there’s a reason for that.” He states simply, monotone. It makes you want to yank your hair out by the roots and offer it to him, asking him if it’s enough. If it’s enough to shut up the voices in his head.

“Yeah? Because you don’t wanna let people in?!” Uncharacteristically, you jab a finger into his chest, frustration making itself known across your face and you only know because his eyes ever so slightly soften. “Eddie, all you do is give me mixed signals! How many times do I have to tell you I want nothing to do with Jett?! What do I have to do to get that through your thick fucking head?!” He tries to get a word in but you don’t give him an opportunity. “No, seriously! I need an instruction manual or something because I’m trying! I have been trying-”

“-I didn’t ask you to!” He finally interrupts, sorrow filling his eyes.

With a deep breath, you calm your heaving chest. It’s apparent you’re no longer cold, your skin hot from working yourself up. Steam may as well be coming from your ears though it wasn’t your intention to get so irritated with him.

“I wanted to. I want to.” Your voice comes out softer, a gentler approach to his sudden internal conflict.

“No.”

Turning away, he doesn’t quite move to leave but there’s no mistaking the fact that he’s trying to shut you out. He’s trying to escape like some kind of feral animal but you refuse to give in. You refuse to let him.

“Yes. Eddie–look at me!” You demand with a small pull of his arm.

“No.”

He goes to turn his body even further away from you but the firm hold you have on his bicep stops him. He keeps his gaze on the floorboards below, his nose twitching and eyes burning with the threat of tears. You only know because you’re all too familiar with the mandatory frown that comes with holding them back.

“Stop doing that. Please.” You beg.

“I can’t be here right now–”

“What makes you think I can?”

He’s silent. The world instantly feels so quiet, tiny snow flurries fluttering around you, making you feel as if you’re the only two people on Earth. Echoes of the celebrating and hollering inside are faint although they don’t do much to pop the bubble you find yourselves in. Then he breaks the silence, daring to plead with you this time.

“Bambi, please.” He croaks.

Your initial thought is, please what? You’d been pleading with him back and forth for god knows how many minutes straight and here he was doing it right back to you. And for what? It wasn’t a good enough plea, not for you. You weren’t ready to let it go, if you even knew what “it” was.

“No, you’re coming inside and you don’t have to associate with me if you don’t want to but you’re coming inside.”

Your demand only seems to irritate him, his brows knitting together while he pinches the bridge of his nose in between his fingers. If he was agitated then you were about to become enraged. And that is not something you wanted. You never wanted to display that kind of emotion toward him but he was practically pulling it out of you and you had to fight against it. No one had ever been able to pull such a reaction out of you, not ever. Even if you had gotten pretty close, you swallowed it down and hid it.

“Why?!” Eddie seethes.

His outburst takes you back, though with the aggravation boiling within you, you were able to contain any reaction he was seeking, if any. That wasn’t the case for long though as you then launch yourself into another tantrum after staring for a second too long at his snarled lip.

“Because believe it or not, I care, Eddie!” You practically wail, your voice becoming hoarse. “If you leave I’m coming with you because I’m not leaving you alone. Not on Thanksgiving.” Your head shakes in denial.

Against your own will, a single tear trails down your cheek and the moment you feel it, you’re rapidly wiping it away, hoping he never even saw it when you knew damn well his umber eyes followed it all the way down your face. He only pulls his gaze away.

“I’m leaving. You’re staying here.” He decides, regret etched into his features.

In a final attempt to escape your grasp, he succeeds, feeling your fingertips linger for one last second before drifting away as he turns and makes his way down the porch steps, wood protesting beneath him. The noise is the only proof you have that he’s actually leaving, that he actually feels he’s not worthy enough to stay.

You refuse to give up so easily.

Your feet are already on a mission, nearly sprinting down the stairs even with the threat of slipping on the minimal amount of ice beginning to freeze over. Eddie pays no mind to the fast paced footsteps crunching against the gravel behind him, making his way over to Sugar with his head hung low. Your heart is racing, not just because you suddenly decided to sprint a few yards but because a healthy dose of dopamine has started coursing throughout your body, a good amount of anxiety accompanying it but not deferring you any longer.

Eddie makes it to Sugar, his hand reaching for the door only for it to be forced shut with a self-manicured hand. If he didn’t know who the hand belonged to he’d be chewing the owner out for daring to touch his beloved truck. Instead he rolls his eyes and turns as he prepares to reprimand you in a much more gentle manner than he would anyone else.

Except he doesn’t even have the chance when your lips are suddenly pressed to the corner of his mouth, your body pushing him against Sugar. His hands freeze mid air, his eyes wide open. Your hands are resting on his chest and–he can’t breathe. You pull away, inches from him and he can’t breathe, he can’t speak, he can’t move. As far as he’s concerned he isn’t even human anymore.

“Stay.” You whisper, your breath fanning over slightly chapped lips.

His lips won’t stop tingling, he can’t grasp the concept of what just occurred. He refuses to even touch you for fear that you might disappear right before him. Hell, he’s not even sure he’s allowed to.

It’s difficult to gauge his reaction, his heavy breath lingering with the smell of his cigarette that would probably gross you out had it been anyone else but for some reason, because it’s him, you don’t mind very much. You must smell strongly of wine which isn’t always pleasant so you figure you’re even.

“Please stay.” You repeat, nudging your nose into his.

It’s like he’s in a trance, his eyelids becoming lazy and his body relaxing when you reach up to trace your thumb ever so slightly over his jaw. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes squeezing shut, and you can hear a gulp in his throat. With his eyes still shut, he nods and before you can process it, he launches himself into your arms in a tight embrace, wrapping himself around you, his face buried in your neck. A wetness catches against your skin catches your attention, Eddie’s body heaving slightly and you just know.

You know that the tear stains on your skin mean more to him than you could ever imagine.

Slowly, your fingers tangle in his hair, threading into the curls at the nape of his neck to lightly scratch his scalp soothingly. The way he grips onto you tighter, his body shaking, only confirms that physical touch and affection was not a luxury he was allowed in his lifetime. If he let you, you’d spend thousands of hours holding him, even in the cold. Whatever he needed.

But the snow flurries began to grow larger and the wind started to pick up. And you’d be damned if you allowed yourself and Eddie to catch a nasty cold when you could be doing the same thing inside next to the fire. Though, as you thought about it, Eddie would probably shy away from your touch in front of everyone. And that didn’t anger you in the way it normally would. Because you couldn’t blame him, someone so touch starved that he began to sob the second he was willingly kissed and told he was wanted, for shying away from showers of physical affection in front of peers that only know him to be big, bad, Eddie Munson. It would be too much of a change and you weren’t willing to force that upon him.

So as the cold grew more unforgiving, you continued to hold him. He would be the one to decide when he felt he wanted to part from you. And if you both got sick, so be it. A stupid cold would be worth the price if you were able to provide him the touch he went so long without and so badly craved, even if he didn’t quite know it at first.

Eddie parted from you far sooner than anticipated. His cheeks were rosy, his rounded nose matching, endearingly so. His eyelashes were dotted with a few lingering tears, his eyes rimmed with red but sadness was absent from his features. Instead there was a fondness dripping from his expression and though he parted from the embrace to gaze down at you, he still clung to you like his life depended on it.

“Can I–can I kiss you?” He whispers shakily.

You want to laugh, only because he’s acting as if you didn’t kiss him in the first place. But you bury it deep down and only let a smile blossom.

“Please.” You whisper back.

This time, you’re more than happy to beg.

Hesitantly, his shaky hand cups your jaw, the warmth from his skin more than welcome as he gently slots his lips against yours. He’s slow with it, taking his time. As you move in rhythm with him, you encourage him, moving his arms to circle your waist, pressing yourself closer and letting your hands travel up his chest to lock behind his neck.

“I can’t stop.” He laughs quietly, continuously pecking your lips like he can’t get enough.

“Don’t.” You giggle into his mouth.

Teeth clash against teeth and though he hasn’t quite graduated to using tongue yet, you have the urge to introduce him. Before you can pass your tongue along his plump bottom lip, he curses under his breath as he pulls away, only causing worry to spread across your face.

“You’re freezing.” His hands rub up and down your arms to somewhat heat you up and only then do you realize your face feels completely numb.

“No, I’m fine.” You protest against your better judgment. It wasn’t exactly fitting to be in tights while one of the first snow falls of the year ensued.

“You’ll be a popsicle in like three seconds.”

Eddie softly smiles, reaching for your hand and tugging you with him toward the house. A whine escapes you, a pathetic whimper but you manage to shuffle yourself along with him. Before entering the realm of reality beyond the front door, Eddie turns to you, stars in his eyes, something glimmering.

“How’s my nose? Snotty?” He grins, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #smoke signals #eddie munson au #stranger things fic #stranger things au #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic

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fantasyescapes17 · 2 years ago

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Wings (Part 4)

Your debut in society was as spectacular as one could be, but nobody had prepared you for what came afterward. When you find yourself overwhelmed during your very first season and unable to keep up with the rat race to secure yourself an eligible husband, a curious mentor appears- in the form of notorious flirt and self-proclaimed rake, Mr. Kim Mingyu.

Genre: Mingyu x Female!reader. Regency!AU. You are Jeonghan's sibling so your last name is Yoon but the reader has no other physical characteristics.

Warnings: Discussions of social anxiety, one f-bomb (yes shy Miss Yoon drops an f-bomb sue me) smoking (don't smoke kids, the characters in this story are from a time when they didn't know how bad it was for their health)

Word Count: 6.2k+

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Series Masterlist [You WILL need to read Patience, the earlier installment in this series first in order to understand the character dynamics in this story. Reading Candle before this is also strongly recommended.]

Confessing to your sister-in-law that you were in love with Mr. Kim Mingyu somehow made your feelings for him seem more real than ever. It was as though saying the words aloud had allowed the true extent of your affection for him to finally come out of hiding.

The idea of confessing your love to him did not come without apprehension. But the clock was ticking and you had no other viable option. You were in danger of losing Mr. Kim in any case; if you were silent and married someone else, it would still be the end of your friendship as you knew it. Once married, it would be unseemly to maintain even a close friendship with a gentleman who was not your husband.

So you had no choice.

You had to show him your heart and hope for the best.

The opening of Mr. Kim’s art gallery was a spectacular event at which no expense had been spared. You entered the new building and immediately saw all the most elite members of the ton gathered in one place. The Viscount and Viscountess Hong and even the Duke and Duchess of Graham had turned up for Mr. Kim’s opening. You were impressed by Mr. Kim’s prowess in being able to gather all these high-ranking members of the ton for his grand opening.

Your mother insisted on accompanying you to the event. She was not very pleased with Mr. Kim (‘If he was seriously courting you, he should have proposed by now! What can he be waiting for?’ she often complained) but even her displeasure would not cause her to absent herself from one of the season’s most awaited events. She forced you to stay near her as you walked around to admire the displayed paintings and sculptures. Your mother's eyes, however, were on the people and not the paintings.

“If Mr. Kim is not going to propose, then I think you must focus your attention on Baron Wright instead,” your mother hissed in your ear as you tried to admire a large painting of a young woman. “The season is coming to an end. This is the ideal time for a proposal.”

You said nothing.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, mother. Isn’t this portrait quite lovely? I love how the artist has captured the sheer quality of the lace on her gown,” you said. There was no arguing with your mother when it came to Baron Wright. You had no option but to try to turn her attention away from him.

“Yes, yes,” your mother mumbled, barely glancing at the painting. “Ah! I see Mrs. Patty! I must ask her whether she has seen Baron Wright of late, I am so worried that he shall leave London without saying a word to us…”

You were relieved when she hurried away, leaving you behind. You slipped through the crowd in search of Mr. Kim. He was not difficult to find. He was surrounded by a group of people who were congratulating him on the successful gallery opening. Of course. He was the star of tonight's event.

Mr. Kim stood tall, in a particularly dashing black suit that you had never seen him wear before. He was handsome; you were not noticing that for the first time but it was the first time you allowed yourself to fully acknowledge the warmth and happiness that exploded inside of you at the sight of his smile.

He looked up. His twinkling eyes met yours and his smile widened. You waited patiently until he excused himself from the conversation and strode towards you confidently.

"And what is little Miss Yoon doing here all alone?" Mr. Kim asked with a playful grin as he offered you his arm.

"I managed to slip away from my mother," you told him. You took his arm. "But never mind her. This gallery is beautiful. I never knew you had such taste for art, Mr. Kim."

Your compliments seemed to please him. He grinned down at you. "I told you I was a patron of the arts. This is nothing. My private collection at home is much more selective and exquisite."

"I should love to see it someday," you said lightly.

"And it would be my pleasure to show it to you," he answered smoothly. "There are a few pieces here tonight that I think you might enjoy. May I?"

"Lead the way."

You found nothing more enjoyable than allowing Mr. Kim to lead you around the room and show you his favourite artwork. Some of the paintings had stories behind them- others were simply visual masterpieces. You saw portraits of kings and paintings of forests and vast landscapes.

"This one is a particular favourite of mine," Mr. Kim said as he paused in front of a beautiful oil painting of a small grey bird inside a cage. The cage door was open; another brightly coloured bird with enormous feathers and large wings was hovering near the cage door as though coaxing the grey bird to come out.

You stared at it for a long moment.

"It's beautiful," you whispered.

"I think the colourful bird can't understand why the grey bird chooses to sit in the cage," Mr. Kim said thoughtfully.

"But his wing is broken."

"What?"

You stepped closer to the small painting and gestured towards the grey bird's wings. The wings were tucked close to the bird's body but upon closer inspection, one of them was angled differently from the other.

"I don't think the grey one can fly," you said quietly. "So for him, the cage is safe and not a trap."

Mr. Kim was silent for a long moment. "I hadn't noticed that," he admitted. "Clearly you are more observant than I am. I thought it was a lesson on spreading your wings and taking risks."

"Or perhaps it is a lesson on communication," you suggested.

"Or perhaps the artist simply drew a pair of birds and we are projecting our interpretations of deeper meaning onto them," he continued with a chuckle. "Well; there concludes our tour of the art gallery."

You frowned. "We have not seen that hallway yet."

Mr. Kim rubbed the back of his neck and suddenly looked rather sheepish. "Perhaps we had better not tour that one together."

"Why not?"

"It is not… appropriate."

"What could be inappropriate about some paintings?" you demanded. You turned towards the hallway before Mr. Kim could stop you and paused at the first painting. You realised your mistake immediately. This was an enormous nude portrait of a woman looking out of a window wearing a scrap of silk that covered none of her intimate parts.

"O-oh," you said quickly.

Mr. Kim cleared his throat behind you. "I told you it was inappropriate."

You took a deep breath. "I-I have seen paintings such as these before," you tried to say smoothly. You turned around to see that Mr. Kim was biting back a smile as he looked at you. "It is… it is merely art."

"Indeed," he said, the corners of his lips twitching as they upwards. "Art."

Your embarrassment was becoming more difficult to conceal. "The-the human form is a commonly chosen subject for artists, and of course among polite adults there is nothing to be ashamed of and-are you laughing at me?"

Mr. Kim could not control his laughter. He gently but firmly steered you away from the hallway of nude paintings, laughing all the while as you scolded him for ridiculing you.

"You are too innocent, Miss Yoon," Mr. Kim told you once he was able to stop laughing. "I will not allow your corruption to be on my conscience."

You frowned. "I am a lady."

"Yes, and I am a gentleman who will not encourage you to do things which are not ladylike," he replied.

"It is a bit late for that," you mumbled. You lowered your voice and leaned a little closer to him. "You have been so busy with the gallery that I have not seen you in over a week and I am simply dying for a smoke. Jeonghan keeps his cigars locked up in his study."

Mr. Kim's eyes twinkled as he looked down at you. "Is this what my position in your life has been reduced to? I thought perhaps we were friends but it appears I am little more than your cigar supplier."

"You can be both," you replied. "Do you have one or not?"

He lowered his voice. "Of course, I have one. Go back through that door- there are some storerooms there. I will join you in a few moments."

You followed his instructions and slipped through the door that Mr. Kim had pointed out. You trusted him implicitly; in all the clandestine smoking sessions that you had indulged in with Mr. Kim you had never gotten close to being caught by another soul.

But this evening was far more than your usual little smoke and chat.

This evening you would finally tell him you loved him.

The storeroom was a small dusty room filled with large easels and paintings that had white cloths thrown over them to protect them from the elements. You took a deep breath and tried to calm your nerves as you waited impatiently for Mr. Kim. The door opened a few moments later and he entered with a smile.

"I have your cigar," he said, holding it up. "We must be quick; I have guests waiting to speak to me outside so we only have time for one."

You glanced at the cigar in his hand. "What is that?"

"Your cigar, my lady."

"Don't you have any of the Cuban ones?"

Mr. Kim's mouth dropped open in mock offence. "The Cuban ones? What; do local cigars offend my lady's sensibilities? Does your delicate constitution only permit you to smoke imported cigars?"

"Yes," you replied with a smile. "Hand over the Cubans."

"I will not. I have spent enough money on your cigar habit already. I may have to start selling my paintings en masse if I am to continue to purchase foreign cigars for you at this rate."

"Hand over the Cubans, Mr. Kim."

"I do not have any."

You made a sudden and bold move- one that you did not pause to think through, or else you would never have dared to do it. You stepped closer to Mr. Kim so that you were right in front of him. He looked startled but did not move away. His warm, familiar scent enveloped you and you could hear his heavy breathing.

"What are you doing, Miss Yoon?" he asked quietly.

"Looking for Cubans."

You placed your hands on the lapels of his suit and slowly slid them down. Mr. Kim watched you silently as your fingers undid his coat buttons- first one, and then the other. Then you slid your hand into his coat and reached for his inner pocket.

Mr. Kim stared down at you. His eyes were dark and lidded as your hands delicately brushed his torso and felt for his inner jacket pocket. Your hand finally stilled; fingers brushing the cigars.

"Found them," you whispered. Your eyes snapped up to meet his. "You liar."

There was a brief moment of silence. Mr. Kim's eyes had an almost wild sort of hunger that you had never seen in them before. It sent a thrilling shiver down your spine. You were inches away from him. Nothing about this situation was appropriate- the two of you in this storeroom nor the cigars.

But this closeness… the look in his eyes…

This was beyond mere social inappropriateness. Your hand on Mr. Kim's chest and his heavy breathing as he stared down at you made one thing quite clear. The delicate line that you had been dancing around for months had just been crossed.

It was not a blatant violation. There was still a chance to step back. You could apologise for having toed the line and claim it was a mistake, that in your desperation to look for the cigars you had not thought about how it would appear-

Mr. Kim leaned down and kissed you.

You had been kissed before (there was that innocent little dalliance with the stableboy from many years ago) but you had never been kissed like this. His lips were hot as they covered yours and his hands were hot as one of them cupped your face and the other came around your waist to pull your body flush against his.

Every place he touched with his hands and lips set you on fire.

You gasped into his mouth; he did not waste the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips and his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck.

You could not think. You could not breathe. You melted against him completely and allowed yourself to run your hands over his toned chest and shoulders while Mr. Kim continued to press warm kisses to your lips and jaw.

He pulled back for a moment, forehead pressed against yours and breathing heavily. Your breath mingled and the room was silent except for the sound of your combined heavy breathing.

"Mingyu," you whispered. "I-"

There was a loud noise outside the storeroom. You both froze. Mr. Kim swiftly pushed you so that you were hidden behind a large easel covered in a white sheet and out of sight of the door.

"I-it's probably just the gallery staff," he said anxiously. His dark eyes searched yours as he slowly released you and stepped back.

A sudden emptiness flooded you as you realised, he was leaving you.

"No, wait-"

"I will go out and send whoever it is away. Come out of the storeroom after at least two minutes," Mr. Kim said quickly before he swiftly exited the storeroom.

You stared after him in shock.

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

You could not sleep all night. Mr. Kim had avoided you for the rest of the gallery opening. Once your mother understood that Baron Wright was not in attendance, she had preferred to leave early, and you were forced to return home without a chance to speak to him again.

Would Mr. Kim propose? Perhaps it was too soon for that. But he would come speak to you to understand your feelings and explain his, you were sure of it. That kiss had not been for nothing. Mr. Kim would not have kissed you if he did not feel the same way about you.

You waited.

And waited.

Two days later, Jeonghan called you into his study while your mother was away from home. You felt anxious, not knowing what your brother wanted to discuss. Perhaps this was it, perhaps Mr. Kim had thought it was best to approach your brother before the proposal?

Jeonghan looked tired as he closed the study door behind you and turned to you with a sigh.

"Baron Wright has asked for permission to propose to you," Jeonghan said. He noticed the instant panic that flashed across your face and lifted a hand to calm you. "I have not answered him yet- do not worry. I told him that I would discuss it with you and let him know."

You shook your head frantically. "I-I don't want to marry Baron Wright."

"I expected so. It appears your mother has been strongly encouraging him to propose. Sister- I do not want to pressure you but you know that time is running out and your mother will lose her mind if you are not engaged by the season's end."

You sank down into a chair near Jeonghan's desk and took a deep breath. You suddenly felt as though the walls of the room were closing in on you. Clearly Mr. Kim had feelings for you, so why was he sitting around while other men proposed? What was he doing with all this time? His failure to propose to you was only making things more complicated and confusing.

"Has… nobody else asked?" you questioned Jeonghan finally.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow and leaned against his desk. "Are you expecting someone else to ask?"

You flushed in embarrassment. "No, no, I mean…"

"Sister, you have to tell me."

You took another deep breath and tried to calm the racing thoughts in your head. You could not figure out your next steps and the only person you trusted to guide you or help you was not here.

"Have… have you spoken to Mr. Kim at all in the last few days?" you asked hesitantly.

Jeonghan's eyes widened. "No. Should I have?"

"No, no-"

"Sister. Should I speak to Mr. Kim?"

"No!" you said quickly. "Not at all. I… I need some time to think. I will come back soon."

Jeonghan did not seem convinced but allowed you to leave the study. You walked out into the foyer as you considered your options. You had to marry by the end of the season and the thought of Baron Wright becoming your husband made you recoil in disgust. You wanted Mingyu and if he would not come to you, then you would have to go to him.

It was evening; chances were high that Mr. Kim would be at either the assembly rooms or the gentleman's club. You could not gain entrance to the latter but if luck was in your favour, you might find him at the assembly rooms.

You called for the carriage and set off immediately.

The assembly rooms were crowded and you weaved through the people anxiously, hoping nobody would notice that you were without a chaperone and that you could find Mr. Kim quickly.

"Miss Yoon!"

You jumped- but the voice that called out to you was not one that you need have worried about. The Viscountess Hong was smiling at you from one of the card tables.

You greeted her anxiously. "Viscountess Hong."

"Would you like to join us for a game of cards? The stakes are not very high. We are only playing for fun," she said pleasantly.

"Oh-thank you… no, I am afraid I must decline, I am actually looking for someone…."

"Who?" she asked quietly.

You lowered your voice. "Mr. Kim."

The Viscountess stared at you for a brief moment. You felt suddenly ashamed under her curious gaze but she did not stare for long. She immediately turned to her husband and interrupted his conversation to ask. "Joshua- have you seen Mr. Kim this evening? I rather enjoy watching him lose to you at cards, it is very amusing."

The Viscount blinked at his wife. "Mr. Kim? No, he is not here. I believe he spends most of his time at the art gallery. I will ask him to join us one of these days."

The Viscountess gave you a meaningful look; you returned a silent smile of gratitude and left for the art gallery.

The front entrance of the building was closed and the door appeared to be locked. The gallery closed at 5pm and it was already well past that. Hesitantly, you knocked on the large door panels and were relieved when a member of the staff opened it and peered at you.

"I am terribly sorry, madam, the gallery is closed for the evening-"

"I was hoping to see Mr. Kim."

"Oh… yes, of course, please come in."

The staff member allowed you to enter the gallery and guided you towards a plush chair where you could sit while they disappeared into a back room to fetch Mr. Kim. Your heartbeat was thudding with anxiety. You had not prepared yourself for what to say to him, but usually speaking to Mr. Kim came so easily to you that preparation was rarely required…

Mr. Kim appeared a few moments later. His eyes widened when he saw you and he quickly dismissed the staff before walking towards you.

"Miss Yoon," he said quietly. "It is very risky for you to be seen here-"

You cut him off, urgently stepping closer. "I had to speak to you, it could not wait. Time is running out, Mingyu. I need to be engaged by the end of the season and my mother has already encouraged Baron Wright to propose. I will have to give him an answer soon. "

Mr. Kim looked torn. You paused to notice how different he looked; his usually neatly parted hair was tousled and his suit jacket wrinkled. His face was pale. There was a heavy scent that hung around him- the usual smell of cigars combined with the pungent smell of whisky.

"Have you been drinking?" you asked him suddenly.

He would not make eye contact with you. Something was wrong and you had a sudden awful, foreboding feeling wash over you as Mr. Kim sat down on one of the plush chairs and ran his fingers shakily through his hair.

"I'm sorry," he said, trembling. "I made a mistake."

Your heart sank.

"What?"

"I should not have kissed you that evening. I-I took advantage of the situation and crossed the boundaries of friendship and propriety. You are a lady and you did not deserve to be treated like that, I would understand if you hated me…"

"But I do not hate you," you whispered. "I love you."

He visibly flinched at your confession.

"You don't. You shouldn't."

"Why?" you demanded, confused.

"Because I do not deserve it. My intentions were impure from the moment I laid eyes on you. If I had truly wanted to help you find a husband, I would not have done half the things I did. I was playing a secret game- a game where the end result was you falling in love with me rather than finding you a husband."

You stared at him. The gallery was silent. You could hear nothing but the sound of your own heartbeat.

"That can't be true…" you said quietly. "You… you were the only gentleman who was not performing this entire bloody pantomime, who spoke to me so naturally and honestly without ulterior motives…"

Mr. Kim looked up at you. His eyes were bloodshot and the corner of his lips curved up in a humourless smile.

"That you still can't see it means that you are too innocent, too sweet, too trusting for your own good. I saw that- it was so deliciously tempting and I took advantage of it."

It did not make sense to you. Took advantage of what? No matter what he said, you did not feel taken advantage of. You had wanted to kiss him, you had wanted everything that he did and said to you. Not a single thing Mingyu had done had ever been unwelcome.

"I can't understand what you are saying," you whispered.

He ran his fingers through his hair again in frustration. "It was all calculated, Miss Yoon. Everything I did was calculated. Do you want a list of the techniques I used on you? I encouraged you to tell me about your deepest fears and used them to make you trust me. I stayed by your side constantly so that you would come to depend on me, and eventually my absence would feel hollow. I encouraged you to smoke cigars so that we would have a shared secret, something thrilling we shared that no other people could know of. Are these not the things that made you fall in love with me?"

"Y-yes, but…"

"Then I successfully manipulated you."

Your legs felt weak. Yes, yes, he was describing everything that had made you fall for Mingyu but why did he have to make them all sound so malicious? How could he take these feelings, these genuine feelings that you had for him and say that they were the result of some clever tactics he had used?

"You manipulated me into falling in love with you?" you demanded. "So… to be clear, you do not think that I am truly in love with you?"

Mr. Kim shook his head. "How could you be? I have only ever shown you the parts of me that I intended to show you. Do you even know what I am like when I am not with you?"

"Why should I care what you are like when you are not with me?" you asked, bewildered.

"You are naive to even ask that question."

Something inside of you broke at his harsh words. This was not the man you knew. A dark, ugly whirlpool of self-loathing and regret in your stomach suddenly emerged as you looked down at this man- this man that could stand here so calmly after you had exposed your most vulnerable thoughts to him and tell you that your love was merely the result of his manipulations and scheming.

You suddenly wanted to end this conversation.

"Fine," you whispered. "So, I am naive, foolish and I fell for some trap that you set to intentionally ruin my life- is that all? Is that what I am to understand from all this?"

"Yes," he croaked.

"Congratulations, Mr. Kim. If that is what you truly feel then I will leave you to celebrate your victory alone," you told him quietly.

You walked towards the exit of the gallery before Mr. Kim could see how your hands were trembling, how your throat had closed up and your chest felt so tight that you thought it might explode.

"I warned you that I was a rake," he said softly.

You paused, hand on the door, and turned to look at him. "Then tell me one more thing," you choked out. "Did you love me?"

He did not look at you.

"I don't know."

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

You felt numb as the carriage brought you back home. It was as though your mind and body had shut down completely due to their inability to process the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm you.

The carriage driver had to tap on the door thrice to inform you that you had arrived at the Yoon manor and needed to descend.

You entered the foyer and walked towards the stairs, barely noticing that there was a commotion coming from the adjoining drawing room. Loud voices were arguing; the door opened in front of you and you had no choice but to go in.

"There you are!" your mother cried furiously as she saw you. She grabbed your arm and pulled you into the drawing room further. You limply followed her, lacking the energy to resist. "Where have you been? How could you leave the house without saying a word to anybody?"

You opened your mouth to respond but she cut you off immediately.

"Never mind that! Look; look at what this boy has done now! Baron Wright has approached your brother for your hand in marriage and he will not grant his permission!"

Jeonghan had his fingers pressed to his temples, as he often did when conversing with your mother. "I am not refusing to grant anything, madam, I am only waiting for my sister to make up her mind."

"About what?" your mother screeched. "What is there to make up her mind about the man is a Baron and he wishes to marry my daughter! There is nothing to discuss! We have already angered him by making him wait so long-"

Jeonghan frowned. "If he cannot wait even a few days for a response to his proposal-"

"He is a Baron!"

You flinched. Your head was aching so badly that every word you mother yelled felt like a knife in your flesh. She continued to yell at your brother and finally something inside of you snapped.

You had had enough.

"Will you shut up?" you yelled. Your hands were shaking. "Can you all shut up for one bloody second, do you not see that I am suffocating? Are you so blinded by your selfishness and hatred that you cannot even ask me if I want to marry the Baron? I can't breathe, mother, but that does not matter to you! You would drag me lifeless to the altar if I happened to die before the wedding!"

Your mother looked as though you had slapped her.

"My dear, I-"

You wrenched her arm out of her grasp violently.

"Don't touch me. This has never been about me or my sister or Jeonghan. This has always been about you and your bloody selfishness. I will not marry the Baron. I am sick of being pushed about and doing things to make others happy and if you have a problem with that, mother, you can marry the fucking Baron yourself."

The room was silent. For a moment even you could not believe what you had done- your mother gaped at you wordlessly, and even Jeonghan was stunned into silence.

You turned and fled upstairs.

It was too much; the combined emotions of the evening had overwhelmed you. The tears were streaming down your face but somehow it was incredibly important that nobody saw them. You ran up to your bedchambers, sank down on the floor next to the bed, pulled your knees up to your chest and cried.

The sobs racked your body violently and it was almost a relief, because the physical pain of holding them in had been too difficult to bear.

You cried because the man you thought you loved was lost to you. Because somehow, you had failed everyone- your sister, Jeonghan, mother… you had failed them all. Everything had gone wrong and it was all your fault. The way Mingyu's bloodshot eyes had looked up at you, the things he had said- innocent, naive, trusting….

You felt disgusted with yourself.

He was right. You were stupid, naive and trusting. But despite all the misery you were going through, there was perhaps one very important, very crucial and painful lesson that Mingyu had, intentionally or not, taught you.

You would never trust again.

There was a knock on your door. Jeonghan's voice called out to you gently from the other side.

"Sister?" he said as the door creaked open. His tone was gentle. "Are you here?"

"Yes," you choked out.

"That was quite a scene you made with your mother," he said with a chuckle. "She hasn't spoken a word since you left. I thought her discovery of our sister's affair was bad, but I think you have broken her far beyond that."

You said nothing.

Jeonghan came around the side of the bed. He saw you curled up in the corner with your tear-stricken face. He sighed and kneeled beside you.

"Is there anyone I need to speak to?" he asked gently.

You shook your head. "No."

"What shall we do?"

"Let's please just go home."

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

The words ‘innocent’, ‘naive’, and ‘trusting’ rang like bells in your head and you heard them in Mr. Kim’s voice in your waking dreams and nightmares. You heard them constantly, over and over, chanting in a rhythm that matched the hoofbeats of the horses that pulled your carriage away from London and back towards your countryside home.

They pierced you so deeply because they were true. You had been warned- every single person you met had told you that Mr. Kim was a notorious rake. Even your sister-in-law had brought him in to mentor you because he was the best at the game.

You had stumbled blindly into a game that you barely understood and tried to take on a man who had been the ace, the savant for years. What had you been thinking? You may as well have walked up to Mr. Kim Mingyu and handed him your heart on a silver platter.

No, you thought. There is no use crying over it now. Mr. Kim was right. You had been innocent, naive and trusting. And despite all the pain you were going through, there was one very important lesson that Mingyu had taught you. Like a fledgling bird pushed out of the nest too soon, you had landed on the ground but you were prepared for your next flight. You would not allow yourself to be pushed around and used and manipulated. You would not be taken under anyone’s wings.

You would find your own wings.

And you would start with the woman who had been suffocating you from the moment you were born- your mother.

Your sister was waiting at the front entrance of the manor as the carriage rolled up to your familiar countryside manor. She ran towards you- she had received letters from Jeonghan and heard everything that he knew, including that you had refused to marry Baron Wright. The anxiety on her face was evident.

“Oh my dear sister!”

She embraced you warmly; you took a deep breath and inhaled her familiar scent and hugged her, blinking back the tears in your eyes. You had missed her deeply. You pulled back and gave her a gentle, watery smile.

“Are you all right?” she asked you nervously.

You nodded. “I am excellent, sister. And I have wonderful news. We have to prepare for a wedding this winter.”

Her eyes widened. “But I thought… Jeonghan said you turned down Baron Wright…”

You shook your head.

“The wedding we are preparing for is yours.”

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

Your mother gave up expressing her displeasure after it became clear to her that not a single person in the Yoon household, least of all her precious youngest daughter, cared two bits for what she thought. She walked around the house bemoaning her lot in life and how Jeonghan had turned both her daughters against her. You felt no sympathy. You were tired of living under your mother’s reign of fear and anxiety- indeed, she was partly to blame for your proclivity to anxiousness and nervous breakdowns.

You refused to allow your failure- no, your decision- not to marry to stop your sister from attaining her own happiness.

“Are you sure?” your sister asked you anxiously as the modiste fussed about her skirts and fitted her wedding gown. “Are you quite sure about this, sister? It will be very difficult for you when you go into London next season and the entire ton associates you with me.”

You shook your head. “I do not care.”

“But you do not understand how difficult it is to enter society when everyone is gossiping about…”

You gave her a firm look and she fell silent. Your sister knew you too well not to notice the change in you; you were not the same shy, innocent girl who she had sent away to London a few months ago. There was a mixture of sadness and understanding in her eyes as she nodded and turned her attention back to her wedding gown.

“We will need to tuck this part in here…” the modiste murmured.

You frowned. “Hurry. The wedding is in barely two days.”

“I can get it done in time.”

There was a knock on the door and one of the modiste’s assistants poked her head into the dressing room anxiously. “Mr. Choi is here, madam. He is waiting outside the shop.”

You stood up quickly before your sister could speak. “He cannot see my sister in her wedding gown. I will go speak to him.”

You hurried outside and saw Seungcheol standing anxiously near the entrance to the shop. His son- little Jiwoo with his father’s eyes and smile- was standing with him and he beamed when he saw you, waving his hands in greeting eagerly. You smiled back at the boy.

“Jiwoo! You have grown so tall!” you told him brightly.

Jiwoo blushed proudly.

Seungcheol smiled down at his son for a moment before turning to you. There was a certain anxiousness in his kind eyes. He had been anticipating this wedding for a long time, and it was evident that he was just as nervous, if not more, than your sister inside.

“Have you not heard that it is bad luck to see the bride in her wedding gown?” you scolded Seungcheol.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I only wanted to be sure everything is going well.”

“Everything is going perfectly. I am taking care of things so you, Mr. Choi, can wait at your home,” you told him firmly. “Unless you are having second thoughts about the wedding. In which case I shall be obliged to inform you that I know where Jeonghan keeps his hunting rifles and I am not afraid to use them.”

He chuckled. “There will be no need for that.”

“Good.”

Seungcheol gave you a small smile. “Your sister has informed me that any mention of postponing the wedding until next season makes you incredibly angry so I will not suggest it to you. Instead-let me say thank you. Thank you for doing this for us.”

You shook your head. “No- I am sorry that you had to wait because of me.”

“That was not your fault.”

“Perhaps not,” you said quietly. “Perhaps I did not ask for it, but it was decided that way for my benefit. I have allowed other people to decide things for me for too long. It is time I chose what makes me happy and nothing would make me happier than seeing you marry my sister.”

Seungcheol reached out to clasp your hand in both of his. His words were warm and genuine. “You will always be welcome at our home.”

You bit your lip and smiled.

“Thank you.”

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

#seventeen scenarios #mingyu x reader #mingyu scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen x reader #mingyu angst #mingyu fluff #seventeen angst #regency!au #seventeen imagines #mingyu fanfiction

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leaawrites · 1 month ago

Note

hellooo, It's me again, and with a request from Graham again, only this time it would be something more romantic. Graham and the reader are going to be parents, and if the request would be of what a normal day would be like for her living with the band (enduring the teasing about her pregnancy and Graham) and Graham being the most romantic at the end, he doing a small photo session with a disposable camera and giving her some drawings that he did of her during the pregnancy

Best Days

Graham Coxon x pregnant!reader

summary: a day in the life, of graham and pregnant reader.

Warnings: pregnancy, swearing, arguing, angst, fluff, This is a bit more Damon Albarn x sister!reader, but I hope it's alright still. Honestly, it feels a bit rushed but I tried getting something out of it.

Wordcount: 1.1k

Masterlist

The arguments about music were something she could recite in her sleep already. Something she could hear without having to be awake just yet. It was there as a constant in their household of five, six soon.

Leaning against the door frame that separated their bedroom from the living room, Y/n watched the chaos unfold once more. Alex was saying something about his bass line, which Damon absolutely disagreed on based on his facial expression, all while Dave and Graham were simply enjoying the show.

Both a different one though.

Dave’s focus was on the chaos unfolding in front of his eyes, the wild hands that were thrown around the air in frustration and the rolling of eyes as the other person spoke.

Graham though was watching the woman leaning against the door frame - her eyes too glued to the argument - while he let his mind bath in tranquillity. Admiring the way the sun cast a shadow on the floor from her growing stomach and how it already was big enough to make the long shirt seem shorter on her.

“What do you think, Gray?” Damon asked, looking up as he got no answer and seeing the boy stuck in a haze of love. Following his gaze, a smirk formed on his face when he saw the prey of his friend’s love. “Ah, Y/n,” Damon mused, making the girls eyes snap over to him. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I literally live here too, you know?” she shot back

“Right, forgot about it,” Damon said, his smile widening. “It’s not like you and Graham are all over each other now that you’re having a kid.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for wanting to express my love how I prefer to,” she said back, all the other guys stifling a laugh as they knew that this could go on for hours between them. Typical Albarn-sibling behavior. “At least I got someone to love.”

“Alright, alright, woman. Calm down. I was just saying that you have a baby soon, no need to rush for another one.”

“You know? If we’d had known that letting Damon’s sister stay in our apartment for a bit would lead to this, Damon would’ve strangled Graham himself,” Alex laughed at the scene as they sat together, eating breakfast.

“With greetings,” Damon added, half of his mouth stuffed full with cereals.

He always hated the idea of them becoming more than a one night stand that one time at a party, but he couldn’t deny how happy he was about becoming an uncle. No matter how hard he tried to sell the image, she could see right through him.

Sitting in the living room all alone, Y/n started tracing outlines on her belly, little drawings she hoped would cheer the baby up from where it was stuck in her. Ever growing, ever evolving. The guys just made their way to the studio, leaving her to her own devices once again.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, I bet you don’t,” she started talking into the silence. “But for what it’s worth, I promise to not let you become like me. No mater what might happen in the future, I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever. I just really fear Graham becoming scared and running off, I really do. Graham, he’s your daddy by the way. I couldn’t even blame him, quite frankly. I mean, he’s just at the beginning of his career and I wouldn’t blame him for taking that over this. I wish I could, but I just can’t.”

Tears were running down her face, dropping down her skin on her stomach. Unbeknownst to her, the door opened about five minutes ago, a bewildered Damon now standing in the door frame, watching his baby-sister talk like no one was there, because technically there shouldn’t be.

“I would kill him if he ever even thought about doing such thing,” Damon let out, making his presence known. Y/n spun around, her eyes widen in shock.

“Damon, I didn’t-”

“You know I would make sure that he’s staying, even when I make such a drama about you two all the time, right?” It was important to him that she knew, that he still cared for her, no matter what happened between her and Graham or any other person for that matter.

“I know.”

“And you know, that he wouldn’t do such thing, right? I mean, we’re talking about Graham, out of all people. That boy is in love with you since sixth form.”

“I know.” She knew. Deep down, she knew.

“Now get some rest,” he said finally, smiling at her and kissing the top of her head before disappearing out of the front door again. He would definitely have a talk with Graham about that topic later.

With the sun already setting, casting a shadow over her frame and displaying the way her body was shaped on the floor, Graham couldn’t keep himself anymore from pushing the thoughts away. An idea that ran through his head since the bump in her stomach started showing. A vivid image he’d see whenever he closed his eyes. It was true, they couldn’t just rush and make another baby right after having the first one, their life’s weren’t even planned for a first one, but he loved watching her like this. He loved seeing her pregnant, knowing that whatever she was carrying was his. It was theirs.

Slowly creeping out of bed, Graham tried his hardest to not wake her up. Walking over to the little dresser that was placed opposite the bed, he picked up the Polaroid camera she bought a while back to capture the process of their journey. Holding it up to his eye and finding a right ankle, he pressed shutter and waited for the little image to print.

His eyes scanned over the photo before he finally decided, he needed more of that. More of her.

“What you looking at?” Her voice sounded from the other side, pulling him out of his daydreams.

“Wait,” he quickly said as she started moving and tried to sit up. Halting in her movements, she waited for him to continue talking. “Stay like this. I know this may seem weird, but you look so fucking beautiful like that. Your belly and all.”

“Do you wanna photograph me, Coxon?”

“Only for private entertainment.”

“Pervert,” she laughed at him before laying down again, fixing her hair and clothes. Looking up at his almost hungry eyes, standing with his mouth agape, she blinked up at him innocently. “What you waiting for?”

#graham coxon x fem!reader #graham coxon x you #graham coxon x reader #graham coxon #blur x reader #blur band #blur #britpop x reader #britpop

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reasonsmandy · 11 months ago

Text

You matter to me

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by @itzajeanspears — Hi!!! Love your writing so much!! Not sure if you’re still doing requests lol, butttt I have a really specific one so if you’d be able to do this I’d like actually die omg. Okay so I’m a fashion student from LA and I was thinking, the reader is like basically siblings with billy and Graham, (her dad and their mom started dating when they were kids so they were practically raised together) but she’s closest with Eddie in particular. They’re best friends. They’ve basically been attached at the hip since they were kids. They’re both secretly harboring feelings for each other and everyone knows it but themselves. She’s been there for them since the band started, like Camilla, making them outfits for gigs and stuff. and Eddie even takes her to prom when her date ends up being a jerk to her. Butttt the reader ends up moving to LA to go to fashion school (maybe eventually she can be their costume designer for the aurora tour 🙏) and Eddie slowly stops talking to her god knows why. Fast forward- The band moves out to LA and they stay with her until they’re stable enough to be out on their own. The tension is super high between her and Eddie and EVERYONE notices. Super Angsty. Ends in fluff and love confessions 🫶 maybe angry billy lol. AGAIN THANK YOU!!! I know that was super complicated. YOUR WRITING AND EDITS ARE AMAZINGGGG !!

✧.* you're reading part two, here's the part one — A letter?

✧.* summary — Eddie was waiting for your response, and when it never came... A wall was built between you.

✧.* warnings — none.

✧.* word count — 3.5k

✧.* 🎸 — Eddie's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — I know it took me forever!!! I'm so sorry, please enjoy! And let me know your thoughts about it :)

I have no idea how to start this, my head has been a mess since our last conversation. I'm sorry for the way I left, I should've been more polite involving all we've been through in the last couple of months. I confess that I don't understand why you thought I couldn't support you in this situation, I've seen you dreaming about this day since I was ten years old, where we chatted about school and unattainable plans for the future… Seeing you achieve everything you dreamed of is like being hit by a ray of sunshine, I am deeply proud of you.

I wish you all the best on this new journey in your life, you are great and your talent is not left behind! Know that you wouldn't be there if it weren't for all your extraordinary talent. There is something in everything you do that exudes originality and no one can take that away or dispute it from you.

I decided to respect your choice and not go to see you on the day of your departure, I confess that this is demanding a lot from me, but I do everything to see you well. I hope you have a great trip and a great life there too.

I don't want to lie to you, I really hope you write me back, I have a huge hope that you'll give me another chance and we can work things out... I'll understand if you don't want that, I just want you to keep in mind that I love you. Fly towards your dream, and when you miss home, maybe my words will warm your heart.

Yours, Eddie Roundtree.

The bassist seals the letter with trembling fingers, he knew you would leave tomorrow and he still had his doubts about what he was going to do.He wanted to come see you before the match, kiss you gently, hug you as if you were going to escape at any moment... But he couldn't, if that was your choice he would respect that.

He knocks on the Dunne house three times, his hands trembling as he waited impatiently with the letter in hand.

"Eddie? What are you doing here so early my dear?" Mrs Dunne's sweet voice asks, she was quiet, probably because she was the only one awake in the house.

"I— I came to give this to Y/N." He extends the paper to her, confused, the older girl takes the object.

"Do you want to come in?" She asks, opening the door for him.

"No no, thank you." He seemed nervous, afraid that you would show up at any moment. "I really just came to leave this"

The madness was crazy the morning you were going to leave, you waited in secret for Eddie, a hope that he would appear was growing in you even though you wanted to kill it. Everyone else had made a point of saying goodbye, even Warren had stopped by to leave you some chocolate for the flight, but nothing from your boyfriend.

That's what you were, right? After all, there was no ending, not formally in so many words... Anxiety made you fear that when he left that had been your final point.

You open your arms to hug your considerate mother, Mrs. Dunne had been very present to you since she came into your life and saying goodbye was harder than you thought.

"I'll miss you so much." Her choked voice says, and you hold her closer.

"Oh honey, I'll miss you too." She answers, still holding you. "Anytime you need us, you just have to call. You have a family here."

At this point you were already in tears, and you let the hug go to wipe them away.

"Look." She starts to say, opening her bag to hand you something. "Eddie asked me to give you this."

Your eyes widen, you take the letter in your hands and leave for your new life.

…

You open the drawer of the nightstand next to your bed and return the letter to the place it always rests still not being able to open it, a sigh leaves you as you relive the night you had just had. Now that you were in the same city everything was more vivid, it was like living your teenage years again and it was frustrating. Of course you missed your friends and your brothers, but feeling Eddie's look at the back of your head was a huge distraction that kept increasing many questions in the same.

Eddie let the air out of his lungs as his body collapsed onto the bed he had fought for hours with Warren for, He lights a cigarette while staring at the ceiling and gradually sees the smoke draw your face, He hated how all the feelings he had put so much effort into hiding returned like the tide flooding over him, it was frustrating how you could make his heart race in a way no drug could ever manege to.

He knew that maybe all he had to do was just get over it, and that's all he was trying to do since you left Pittsburgh and him. Eddie was never the kind to get attached to relationships easily, he was used to having one night stands or just casual dating, so when his heart was captured by your gaze and the funny feeling of falling in love... He didn't know what to do.

The cigarette had come to an end and sleep had not even threatened to arrive, Roundtree sits on the bed regretting it before even finishing what he planned to do. He might not have talked to you during the party, but he was a good listener, something he didn't know if it was a blessing or curse until then.

He puts his leather jacket over the blouse he had worn to the party he attended hours ago, also grabbing some cigarettes before going down the stairs of the new house towards the keys to Rojas' van. He considers going to the drummer's room to tell him that he had borrowed the vehicle, but settles for writing a note in letters large enough for him to notice while he looks for it.

He let in his breath once again, shaking his head as he starts the van and heads towards what haunts his mind.

...

The three rings on the door make you lazily get out of bed, your arms go to the blouse thrown on the table before answering.

"Eddie?" You say between shock and yawn, your hands fix your hair automatically.

He avoids your gaze, looking directly at the ground as if he is very anxious. You wait for an answer, but nothing comes out of his mouth, you take a step forward taking his hand and leading him inside.

"Is everything okay?" You ask, after you both sit at the table in your living room.

"I don't know." He lets it out, wondering if he should actually do what he had planned. "I wanted to talk to you about everything."

"In the middle of the night?" You let out a weak laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

"I couldn't sleep, sorry I woke you up." He looked embarrassed, but it was as if being there was more comfortable than anything he had been doing before knocking on the door.

"We can talk, no problem.”

"With us moving here I imagine we'll see each other more often than we have over the years." He looks you in the eyes, the red of the cigarette in them. "And I don't want there to be a fight between us, I don't want there to be things that aren't clear."

You let the air out, trying to look as if you were mature for this situation. "What do you mean by that?"

"Even with our history, is everything ok between us?" He wanted to tell you that the answer was no, that he hadn't forgotten you, but it stayed in his throat just like the growing knot.

"For me yes, but for you I'm not sure." You are honest, letting the frustration go with your words. "You were the one who ignored me the whole party, I felt seventeen again."

"You don't need to be sarcastic." He says rolling his eyes.

"Since when do you call the truth sarcasm?" He arches his eyebrows at your response, you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth. "What I meant is that I'm over it, I just don't know if you are."

"You know what..." He gets up, adjusting his jacket on himself. "I think we've cleared that up, let's just be polite to each other and that's it. I see you around."

"You're kidding right?" A mocking laugh is let out by you, disbelief shines through. "Is that what you consider resolution?”

"I'll see you around." He says, you get ready to close the door. "Let's just keep things between us, like before."

Your eyes roll back and you slam the door shut, anger and confusion rising in your chest. How can he just show up in the middle of the night to turn your life around like that? You only feel the tears when they fall on your arm, was it frustration? You preferred to believe so, but seeing him treat you with so much indifference was painful.

Still angry, you go to the nightstands and open the drawer to take the letter in hand. Your vision blurred with emotions growing, you tear it apart and as soon as the first cut is made the rest are just a trigger for the pieces on the floor. You cry, regretting it and at the same time wanting to disappear... It hadn't even been twenty four hours since he had returned to your life and everything was chaos.

You collect the pieces and place them inside the box you found, trying your best not to glue the pieces together to read something that could be your answer.

...

You had done a good job of trying to forget about Eddie Roundtree, you had gone out with a few people and avoided running into him as much as possible when you met the band. But that became impossible when his brother went to rehab and his niece was born.

You moved into their house to help with the baby, Camila had never been so vulnerable and you couldn't feel more angry at Billy than in those first few months. Of course, you knew he wasn't one hundred percent to blame, addiction wasn't easy and it made you very sad to know he was like this.

Your move wasn't complete, you slept there some nights and other nights you went back to your house or studio to create some pieces of clothing. It was hard to face Eddie every day, but you two made a point of avoiding each other as much as possible.

It was hard to remember why you didn't like Eddie much when he was being so kind every day by your side, you start to remember why you fell in love with him in the first place. He was kind, funny, he helped everyone, but he was still the one that left you. And that was certainly the impasse for you to sympathize with him once again.

Night fell on the horizon as you leaned over the counter, a cigarette between your lips as you thought about everything at the same time.

"I see you still like the sunset, sunshine." The nickname makes your spine shiver, you don't turn around, you just let him get closer to you. "It always reminds me of you."

The chill comes to your belly, you turn away in disbelief. "What are you doing?"

He rolls his eyes, “Trying to get along with you, is it that hard?"

You let out a sigh, avoiding his eyes. "You want us to be friends?"

"What's the harm on that?" he asks, resting himself.

You shrug, trying your best not to ask every single question that haunted you over the years.

"You made yourself pretty clear that day in my place." That's all you say.

"Why are you acting like I'm a bad guy?" He's confused, upset in his eyes.

"You can't just keep doing this to me, appearing in my life and just leaving me!" You let out your frustrations, he looks at you without understanding. His gaze fixed on your eyes was overwhelming.

"What do you mean?" His voice was trembling, he took a deep breath. "Look, I know I acted childish that night, I shouldn't have just popped at your place and said those things. But I mean what I'm doing right now, I made one mistake... You're really going to blame me for the rest of my life?"

"One mistake?" You tried your best to hold back your urge to cry. "Look Eddie, it's been a long time. I understand if you forgot everything we've been through, I don't want to..."

"You're acting like I didn't care for you. Like I don't care." His voice was calm, it left you disconcerted.

"How can you say that you care for me if you haven't even reached for me all these years?" You turn to face the sky, trying to keep calm.

"I was respecting you!" He avoided coming closer, even though he wanted to take your hand in his. "I told you that! I—...

He stops when he sees your confused eyes, concern takes over his.

"You didn't read the letter, did you?"

You swallow hard, he waits for your answer but you open your mouth and close it without saying anything.

"Did you receive it?" He asks, you nod your head. "I don't understand..."

"I never read it." You confess, looking at your feet.

"Why?" He felt exposed, hurt.

You don't answer, he seems devastated.

"Fuck." He says passing his hands through his hair. "I can't believe this."

He left, leaving you alone with the sunset.

You made a point of coming home that day, there was no way you wouldn't go back to read that letter, your heart was aching with all the emotions that came up this afternoon. You were overwhelmed and feeling guilty, but at the same time confused... You needed answers.

When you managed to put the pieces together it was difficult to tell what was there, but your body softened and your heart tightened. There was your answer.

...

Daisy Jones was responsible for the band's growth after Billy's relapse, 'Honeycomb' was a masterpiece and the whole world knew it when those chords sounded on the radio. You were happy and proud for all of them, it was great to see them all achieving a dream that you followed from the beginning.

You were really excited to go on tour with them, You had already made many different pieces and I'm really looking forward to seeing them using what you created for them from the beginning. Today was the day of the first show, if you weren't even going to be on stage, you were nervous, you couldn't imagine how they were.

You couldn't contain the tears of emotion when you saw them there, the fans screaming excitedly and a long-time dream coming true, it was an amazing feeling and you were so happy to be part of this somehow.

It wasn't easy to deal with the information about the last situation you had with Eddie, of course, Billy had returned and you had spent less time together but that whole scene never left your mind. You tried to expel the flashes as much as possible while pretending to listen to what Camila was saying.

"Swetie, are you paying attention to me?" She says between a laugh, the music from the celebration party made it hard to hear her.

"Aham." You lie, watching Eddie talk to Warren and another girl you didn't know a few steps away. Camila follows your gaze, and turns with an arched eyebrow.

"What's going on?" She asks, her voice softly.

"I feel like I'll never be able to leave what we had behind me." You felt the words leave your mouth with honesty for the first time in a while.

"Have you told him that?" She asks, looking between you and him.

"I'm pretty sure he hates me, so..." You let out a breath, trying to hold back your tears.

"Eddie could never hate you Y/N."

"How can you be so sure?" You take a sip of your beer, avoiding looking at the distant group.

"Oh honey, if you only knew how many times he told me how he felt... How many songs I heard—

"Songs?" You cut her off, holding her arm. "He wrote songs about me?"

"Many." She responds, stroking his hand with a motherly affection. "You should talk to him."

You gather all your strength to follow her advice, and little by little you get closer to them. Warren is the first to notice you, waving in a comical way for you to come closer, Eddie avoids your eyes, the girl greets you with a small smile.

"Hey guys, the show was amazing." They smile at your congratulations. "I'm really proud of you guys."

"Thank you sunshine." Eddie says, almost regretting using the nickname. "I'm sorry..."

"It's okay." You say under your breath. "Look, can we talk alone for a second?"

"Sure." He turns to Rojas and the curly-haired woman. "I'll be right back."

Automatically you take his hand and guide him to a more private place, it's a few seconds of silence before you know how to start. He doesn't rush you, he just waits for you to feel good to begin with what you had planned.

"I read your letter." That's all you can say, he swallows hard. "I'm sorry it took me so long..."

"It's okay, it doesn't matter anymore." He tries to say, but you cut him off.

"It does! It matters and you know it." Tears manage to fill your eyes. "We matter for each other, you matter to me... And I don't know about you, and I know it's probably too late but I can't forget you."

He takes a step closer to you, never taking his eyes off of you. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I love you." A choked laugh comes out of you, it was impossible to contain it all longer.

"Fuck." He holds your face in his hands, touching your foreheads together. "Please, don't mess with me." He jokes.

"I'm done building this wall between us." Her voice was honest, her eyes never stopped staring into his. "I just want to be with you."

He kisses you, a kiss you've missed for years, a connection of souls, an inexplicable feeling. His hands cupped your cheeks and caressed your skin, you pulled him close to feel him after so long. He would always be your point of comfort.

"I love you too." He whispers against your lips, your eyes closed. "I love you so fucking much."

"I know it took a while but I kind of want to stay with you." You joke, he lets out a laugh.

"We can tell our children that we've been dating all this time, they don't need to know about this hiatus" He says while caressing your hair.

"Children?" Rojas' voice made you jump in fright. "Damn, you guys are emotional, huh?"

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

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wosowrites · 2 years ago

Text

Us Always ( Guro Reiten x Reader )

warnings: none

a/n: i know this isn’t the most family oriented but i really tried 😭 hopefully it’s okay. based off this request:

prompt: cute family moments w guro

April 17 2021

By this time, you had known Guro for seven years, and you were madly in love with the norwegian, and she, with you. You were both 25, having been born only a day apart. Today was your four year anniversary. It had taken you guys a very long amount of time to start dating. You had known each other by playing for Norway, but you were in denial about your sexuality for a while, and so was Guro. You had told people you were best friends, but best friends hearts don’t start beating like crazy when they lie their head down on their 'friends' lap.

You had planned a whole thing for your anniversary. You had asked Sam Kerr, Erin Cuthbert and Millie Bright to distract your girlfriend for a few hours, from 4:00 pm to 6:00 pm, so that you could set up your appartement. Now you really weren’t into the lovey dovey things. You would get her flowers and chocolates and jewelry to express your love for her, you wouldn’t use words. Acts of service were your love language. And so, when Guro left, you told her you would be out till 6:30 because you had a meeting with Nike, your sponsor.

Guro didn’t think you were neglecting your anniversary, she had made you a nice breakfast in the morning and you guys had cuddled in bed for an hour, just being happy you were with each other. So, she didn’t argue when the girls asked her to hang out, although she did wish you were there.

Your plan for their night together was a really big throwback. You would be building a blanket fort, and ordering her her favorite food. Why? The night you and Guro had first kissed, you were babysitting Guro’s niece, who had insisted on building a blanket fort. Except turns out that she got tired halfway through and fell asleep. So you and Guro had brought her to bed, and then you decided to keep on building the fort. You had drifted to sleep together under a ceiling of blankets, and when you woke up at 2:00 in the morning, Guro was awake and looking at you. And you kissed her. The rest- as corny as it is- was history.

You got to work quickly, starting by cleaning the living room. You then built the fort. You were pretty handy, and very skilled in the art of entertaining children because both your older siblings were married and had children. And your go too was always forts. You used blankets, pillows, and put fairy lights in it.

After that was set up, you took a quick picture of it and then went on your phone. You had ordered food to come at 6:15, and it was all your favorite things. There was saag paneer with rice, onion bajii, pizza and sushi. It was going to be a feast. All you had to do is make a baked Alaska. Her favorite desert. It was simple, just ice cream coated with graham crackers and whipped cream. So you would put it in the oven 20 minutes before it was time to eat the desert. It was now 5:30, the fort had taken a while, so you turned on the TV and went on netflix, selecting a horror movie you both knew you would barely be watching. Then, you went to your shared bedroom and put on her favorite outfit of yours. Which consisted of nike pros and a baggy but not long grey hoodie of hers, she loved seeing you in her clothes, and she was an ass girl, and the nike pro’s did you justice. You slipped your glasses on and then heard the door open. You walked out into the main area, seeing Guro starting at the fort. She turned to look at you, a wide smile on her face. "Baby… what did you do?" Guro said, laughing and putting down her bag to come jump in your arms.

You both made a point of speaking english when you could because your english wasn’t great.

You caught her in your arms and spun her around. "I recreated the scenes of our first kiss. I love you. So much. And i’m so lucky to be with you." You told her, all while her legs were around your waist. She kissed you again on the lips before peppering your face with them. She then jumped down and took off her shoes. "I’m gonna go change, and then we eat?" She said. "Food should be here in 5." You smiled at her. While she changed, you leaned on the counter and decided to post something on instagram.

@y/n.y/l/n

All these years with you and I will never get used to your risky hikes. But I’ll keep on loving you, always. Four years down, forever to go.

Alle disse årene med deg og jeg vil aldri venne meg til dine risikable fotturer. Men jeg vil fortsette å elske deg, alltid. Fire år ned, for alltid igjen.

You put your phone down as Guro walked out the bedroom, wearing a similar outfit as you. Just then, the doorbell rang. "Go sit down. I have a movie ready."

The rest of the night was perfect, it was everything, and it was all you needed, her.

March 30 2023

You all knew you could not let Lyon score. That ball could not go in the back of Ann Kat’s net. If only knowing it couldn’t end up back there was enough. It wasn’t.

When Lyon scored, you knew it wasn’t over. As the attacking midfielder, you knew you had to create an opportunity for the team. But then it went into extra time, and Lyon scored again. You thought you were going to die.

Your girlfriend got subbed off, you couldn’t even recall for who, but she was on the bench, and she was mad.

And then, things seemed to turn around. You ran into the box and passed the ball to Lauren who received it perfectly, until you saw a foot stick in front of Lauren’s, sending her tumbling to the ground. You threw your hands up in the air as Lyon cleared it, all of Chelsea was going insane, the Lyon players were trying to defend their team, both benches were on their feet and the Chelsea fans at Stamford Bridge were screaming in rage. Time moved in slow motion, you looked over to Jessie Fleming with a mix of fear and hope in your heart. She looked at you the same way. And then, it seemed as though everything fast forwarded and the ref was pointing at the penalty spot, and Sophie Ingle was handing you the ball. "Can you do this?" She said to you. "Yes. Yeah I can do this." You answered, grabbing it and placing it on the spot. You didn’t want to look back at the bench, if you saw your Guro, you would be too concentrated on not letting her down to score the perfect penalty. You fiddled with the ball a bit before finding the perfect position for it to rest in. You backed up and breathed heavily. You knew how to do this. You had this.

And then the whistle blew, and your foot hit the ball, and the keeper went right and the ball went top left and you were screaming and running to the bench where Emma Hayes had just turned around and was screaming and jumping with Erin Cuthbert. You jumped into Guro’s arms, shaking so hard and screaming out of joy. You were level, and this quarter final was going to penalties.

Your brother and your sister were in the stand with their kids, all of them wearing your name on their back, except for one of the kids, who loved Guro more than she loved you, you couldn’t even bring yourself to mind because the sight of your girlfriends name on your niece’s back was the most wonderful thing ever.

Jess Carter took the first penalty. Score.

Lyon. Score.

Sam Kerr. Score.

Lyon. Score.

Jessie Fleming. Score.

Lyon. Miss.

Lauren James. Miss.

Lyon. Score.

It was your turn. You couldn’t miss. And you didn’t. You sunk it in with ease and pumped your fist in the air, running to Jessie and Niahm, hugging Magda and Joanna.

And then Ann Kat worked magic, and Chelsea was through.

The whole team ran to Ann Kat and dog piled on top of her, but you made sure to run to Guro who was running off the bench and onto the pitch. You jumped into her arms, hugging her head to your chest and holding her tightly. "MY GIRL! MY GIRL!" Guro yelled, smiling up at you and then hugging your upper body again as you rested your cheek on her head. Guro put you down and then you both ran to the rest of the group, hand in hand. You and Ann Kat hugged, the team spraying water on the both of you. "Ice cold!" She said to you, smiling. "Right back at you Keep!" You smiled.

The celebrations were amazing, but you were quick to find your siblings. You hugged your sister tightly and then your brother. They all praised you, making you blush from the attention. You focused on the five kids there, hugging the and smiling. You picked up the youngest, a seven month old girl and walked on the pitch with her, taking her to your teammates.

"Gee!" Guro said, happy to see the baby. Georgia reached out for Guro who took her gladly, smiling at her mini Chelsea jersey. You took the opportunity to go sign a few things as Guro held your niece, she was getting much attention from Niahm and Jessie. When you got back, you took her back to her mother and swapped her for your five year nephew, JJ, who was incredibly social and wanted to say hi to everyone. You soon got called over for a quick post match interview. "You want to come, JJ? You wanna be on TV with auntie?" You asked him. "Yeah!" He said happily. You quickly asked your sister, who’s son it was and she agreed to it. Then, you picked him up and brought him to the cameras.

"Hi!" The reporter said, passing you a headset. "Hi, nice to see you again." You answered, recognizing her from other games. "Same to you, same to you. Who’s this?" She asked, looking at the boy in your arms. "I’m JJ." He said, the camera now rolling. "Well hello, JJ. The woman said. She then turned to you. "Well, I’m sure you guys are ecstatic to have made it through. How do you feel about your performance as a team?" She asked. "Um, not good enough. We were extremely lucky to have had that clip in the box. I know a lot of people will say the game was stolen from Lyon, they were the better side but we kept our calm and I think that showed. I’m very proud of this team and I’m just happy not to have missed." You said, smiling. "Yeah, a very special penalty that was. So now there are two english teams in the semi finals. How do you feel about maybe having to play Arsenal again?" The woman asked you.

You knew what was coming the second she said that. The thing is, Guro had had a lot of fun teaching three year old JJ to say "London is blue!" every time the word Arsenal was brought up. She thought it was hilarious. So that’s what happened.

"LONDON IS BLUE!" He yelled, his squeaky little voice making you jump. The reporters and you were quiet for a second before you all burst out laughing. "I’m so sorry, my girlfriend taught him that I promise. Anyways uh, yeah no we’re just going to concentrate on the Barca game, Arsenal is not our issue right now." You told her.

You talked for a couple more minutes and then you wrapped it up. You handed JJ back to his parents and rushed into the tunnel where Guro was waiting for you away from the cameras. "Can I kiss you now?" She asked. "Please. And don’t stop."

#woso fic #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #chelsea fcw #arsenal fcw #jessie fleming #guro reiten #ann katrin berger

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soranihimawari · 1 year ago

Text

120 beats per minute

word count: tbd

pairing: reader x osamu// reader x atsumu

rating: t/m for lor love triangles and sibling violence

it's a funny thing, love. this emotion causes joy, anger, anxiety, so why does your best friend's brother stand before you with a soft smile. a warmth radiating off of him when his hazel graham cracker eyes which match his hair dye chooses to take you in, disheveled hair and all, and spots someone who deserves this sort of rendezvous too. miya atsumu is out of breath and has such a cross expression like he's about to go off on you for no reason, but his words fail him the moment you leap into his arms and he catches you.

ok, maybe if we start at the beginning, you'll completely understand why he's there at your house in an unholy hour of two in the morning.

[[twelve hours ago]]

you leave school in the sunshine afternoon of a day. there is a letter that falls into your school bag. a girl friend of yours invites you the karaoke club. what you didn't know was it was going to be a club building exercise between a few single guys from the volleyball club and your jazz band club. your best friend, the one whom you've been claimed to be inseparable since you were seven. imagine the look on your face when you see him canoodling up to one of the other girls in the group at the couch in the karaoke room. it's your turn to sing and you sing" la vie en rose" in a shaky voice. your eyes don't leave the spot on the couch when the girl from your group stakes her claim on with your best friend's lips. if there is a moment in time your best friend could hear your heart snap it must be the equivalent when your microphone drops to the cushion in the crescendo of the song. you rush out, no word or excuse of an apology. the boys sort of cheer on their teammate's liplocked confession, but two people in the room, your girl friend and one other teammate raises their brow.

you're home when your friends the girl who had invited you and the other teammate decides to text you together. both of them are apologizing saying that you didn't deserve it. they comfort you in their empathetic facetime call with you.

"y'know until that hussy kissed 'samu-kun, i thought he was gonna sit next to you," your girl friend from class nods.

"yeah, yeah!" a miya with blonde hair says. he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of the nose. "my brother is a bit of an oblivious dolt."

"a bit?! my closest friend these past three years whom you've quite literally grew up with yn-san and your brother locking lips with the biggest slut of the year!"

"guys, guys," you sound a little defeated about it. "it's ok. 'm sure 'samu liked her too."

you speak no more of this incident, rather after your friend hangs up first, the older twin brother of the young man you learned to like, suggests something gnarly.

"i like you, why not date me instead?" he's still on facetime and he hears you sniffle once, then twice, then he calmly expresses his brother might be an idiot, but for what it's worth: "i can be greedy too."

"but that's not fair to you," you say, all ounce of rationality makes your heart stutter a bit.

"osamu's an idiot," atsumu retorts. "how can he possibly not adore you?...and in case you've forgotten, yn, i've known you for the same amount of time--i've loved you for longer, trust me. i'm on your side. i just want you to win."

you say nothing as you let atsumu's words both stun and linger in your mind. it stirs something ancient in your wounded heart and immediately, flashbacks of your childhood with the twins play in realtime. for every scrape, ouchie at recess, every tear his brother had by proxy caused, atsumu was there bandaging you up with neosporin, giving you a piggy-back ride home from the playground, made you laugh by inserting jellybeans on his canines on halloween thus chasing you until you fall in his room side by side with him laughing into the night. love, you realize is a double edge of sword.

come the weekend after the karaoke mess, osamu and atsumu are rumoured to have an awful fight in the gym locker room. apparently the rumor was atsumu cornered his brother and charged him the crime of breaking your heart and soiled your self-pride. suna has it recorded the moment aran and kita walk in to the twins being pulled apart. osamu has as bloodied nose and atsumu has a busted lip:

"at least i was honest with my feelings ya scrub! how could you not know?!" atsumu's voice is quieter, angrier.

osamu shakes his head. "how can i when ya always make 'em smile?!"

the twins fought about twelve hours ago, but without warning, you awake to a rapping at your front door. the blue light of the netflix show you were watching were now adding an ethereal glow behind you. your box of tissues after watching the latest episode of a popular k-drama your cousins turned you to for heartbreak. you heard a familiar harsh, yet gentle voice you recognize as belonging to atsumu.

neither of you say anything as you pull back the door further, only to glance at him all aglow with a thin layer of sweat in the cool autumn night. it's a funny thing, love. this emotion causes joy, anger, anxiety, so why does your best friend's brother stand before you with a soft smile. he doesn't even speak your name, yet those memories from earlier replay in your heart of hearts you throw yourself at him and his arms hold you closer to him.

"hi sweetheart," his voice is breathy and deep.

"s'late," you whisper against his skin before he puts you back down to the concrete again.

"i know, but i needed to see you."

"want to come in?"

"maybe some other time," he plays with your hand before raising it to his face, which turns into you cupping his cheek until his breath catches up to him. he breathes normally for a few moments, he tells you about the fight word for word.

"are you alright?" your concerned worried eyes search his face for more minor injuries before you relent after he assures you, he's fine.

"jus' my lip is all," he chortles a little. "what's that pout for?"

you shake your head before standing on your toes to have your lips press against his. you don't have an explanation why you kissed him so when you pull away, his cheeks are a soft hue in the moonlight.

"'m sorry, did that hurt?" you ask and before you could receive an answer, the boy ahead of you smashes his lips on yours.

your hand on his face slides down to his chest, clutching the fabric of his pajama shirt the more you let him kiss you; his hand on your waist, the other cupping the back of your head, he leads you into opening your mouth a little more when he runs his tongues over the grooves of your lips. you gasp a little when you taste the mint of his toothpaste and he licks the salt on the corner of your lips from the tears you cried watching another kdrama recommendation (he knows your routine when something heartbreaking happens in your life).

it's two in the morning, you and miya atsumu have since declared that the hour is meant for the romantics whose heart beats quickly rise to 120 bpm.

[[bonus scene]]

you wake on the couch when you feel atsumu's hand brush back your bangs to tuck them behind your ear. it's a strange habit he developed over the years ever since the autumn of your second year.

"morning sweetheart," his hard g's at the ends of his words still cause your heart to flutter.

you, on the other hand, turn to smile at him from where you slept. someone else pitter patters up to you both, the reason why you slept on the couch in the first place and the reason why you have a row in your fridge dedicated to juice boxes.

"papa, why's da ray o' sunshine on our couch?"

"because," you speak up, stifling a yawn. "ya little gremlin took over my side of the bed!"

the kid runs after you made a monstrous, playful growl, and for what it's worth, the faux blonde who gets to witness this exchange the morning after coming back from an away trip with his team, just counts his lucky stars you answered your door that night. laughter fills the halls and they reach an all-time high with atsumu walking to see you scoop up the proof you two have of your love. the tyke holding on to you saying that they were sorry in between the giggles and kisses you give them; your lover in the doorway leans against it, swears he’s never had his heart this full.

“atsumu, c’mere,” you beckon him as the kid settles down and you maneuver your hold on the child to have them on your hip. with your free hand you smile at him when you trace over that small scar on his lip now nearly a decade old. you and osamu might have made up at the wedding shower, but knowing you were always going to wind up a ‘miya’ was predicted by your family and theirs. the kicker was when you stood in front of atsumu since everyone swore osamu was never going to let you go, but he did. that’s the funny thing falling for both siblings at different stages of your life: osamu was more of a puppy-love, yet atsumu, who seemed to glow like a solar flare, set your soul ablaze with the chemistry he provided you.

currently, atsumu stills breathing ahead of you, pressing his lips on the pad of your fingers before your shared child hides his face in your neck declaring: “papa! just kiss the monster and make ‘em pwetty again! ah miss sunshine!”

a chuckle is heard from you before atsumu kisses you quietly matching his lips to yours on this delightful morning.

you whisper, “i love you, g’morning.”

he in turn, tilts your face up again lingering his lips over yours before humming a quiet, “i love you and i will always remind you how you shine like starlight.”

you took a leap of faith when you kissed him at seventeen years old and now? now, the future has been bright ever since.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #miya twins! x reader #reader x oblivious!osamu #atsumu x reader

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bi-bard · 2 years ago

Text

Late Nights in L.A - Karen Sirko Imagine [Daisy Jones & the Six]

Title: Late Nights in L.A

Pairing: Karen Sirko X Reader

Word Count: 1,054 words

Warning(s): mention of addiction, brief make-out scene

Summary: [Episode 3] When the Dunne's sibling comes out to L.A. in the hopes of supporting their brother, some feelings bubble up between them and another member of the new group.

Author's Note: I fell in love while watching this show.

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L.A. was just as hectic as I expected it to be.

Or maybe that was just because of everything else going on around me.

I came out to visit when Graham called me about Billy. When I was told that my brother was going to rehab, I made my way out as fast as possible.

I was there to support Graham and Camila through this time. The rest of the band was helpful, but I thought it would be nice for them to have family around.

It was rough.

Really rough.

But I wanted to make sure that the two of them were getting all the help that they needed. I didn't have that much time to worry about anything else.

One night, I had gotten tired of staring at the ceiling and waiting for sleep to come. I walked out onto the patio and sat on one of the chairs out there.

I spent what felt like hours sitting out there in the fresh air.

"(Y/n)..."

I jumped at the sound of someone's voice. "Jesus, Karen. Don't sneak up on people."

I knew Karen more through phone calls and stories than anything else. Graham had told me about her when they first met and there were plenty of times that I would call and end up hearing her voice on the other end of the line. I liked talking to her. She was nice.

Getting to know her in person was even better. Granted, I didn't have the chance to truly entertain whatever nervous butterflies were finding their way to my stomach.

"Sorry," she said before going to sit in the seat across from me. "You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I nodded, wiping my cheeks and forcing a grin. "Long day."

She nodded. I saw a look in her eye. She didn't believe an ounce of what I was saying. I didn't fight it. I looked out at the distance, taking a deep breath through my nose as I did.

I could see her out of the corner of my eye. She was watching me closely. Like she was waiting for my shell to crack and for me to tell her everything.

I wouldn't. I was just like my brother that way. Locked up when things were wrong with me.

"You can talk to me, y'know," she finally spoke up. "I know you want to keep up that tough look for your brother, but you shouldn't have to do that all the time."

I blinked a few more times as a fresh wave of tears filled my eyes. "I just... Billy wanted to be better. He wanted to be so much better."

I looked back at Karen.

"He wanted to be better than Dad. I always thought that he was. Billy was my hero growing up. I wanted to be just like him. Tough and creative and all that shit. Seeing him now... seeing him like this... I know he's coming home in a couple days, but... it still hurts."

She nodded.

I wiped my eyes as the tears fell. "God, I want to support him, but I am so angry with him. And I feel so selfish for being angry."

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I got overwhelmed.

"Hey..."

Karen stood up and walked over to me. She sat on the little stool in front of my seat. She grabbed my hand in both of hers.

"It's alright," she muttered. "I promise."

I used my free hand to try and wipe my tears away as much as I could.

"Thank you," I finally managed to speak up. "I... I didn't realize how little I had talked about it all."

She just nodded at me.

I don't know when the air shifted around us. And at the end of the day, I don't think an ounce of me truly cared.

A few moments of silence passed between us. Then, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers.

There was a spilt second where she paused before she started to kiss me back. My hand came up to cup the side of her face as I leaned in closer. All I knew at the time was that I wanted more of this. This escape and this fluttering of my heart in my chest and this warmth that spread through my cheeks and my neck.

I could think of nothing I needed more than her.

She was trying to be careful with me. I could tell.

I just couldn't stop myself from finally indulging in what I wanted.

And then, it all stopped.

Karen pulled away with a sigh and a sympathetic grin, taking my hand from her face and placing it on top of my other one. "I can't do this."

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"I can't do this when you're upset like this," she explained. "It would be wrong. You're upset and that's messing with your head. I don't... I don't want to do something that you wouldn't want to do when you aren't... like this."

I took a deep breath as I nodded. "Okay."

"Okay," she whispered.

I paused for a moment before speaking up again, "Can we at least keep kissing? You're a really good kisser."

Karen chuckled and shook her head, looking down for a moment. "Here..."

She leaned in and kissed me again. It was softer this time. There was so much care put into that kiss that it could've reduced me into another mess of tears. I kissed her back just as slowly as she kissed me. I could have spent forever kissing her.

When she pulled away, I had to stop myself from whining.

"That was to hold you over until tomorrow," she said. "When you have a clear head, got it?"

I nodded. She stood up and held out her hand.

"Come on, let's get you back to bed."

I took her hand and let her drag me back into the living room. My "bed" for the time being. She threw the blanket over me. I grinned as a kiss was pressed to my head.

"Night, darling."

"Goodnight," I replied quietly.

I shoved my face a little further into the pillow.

The anticipation for tomorrow may have led to me getting the bed sleep I had gotten in weeks.

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

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

#karen sirko imagine #karen sirko fanfiction #karen sirko x reader #imagine #fanfiction #x reader #daisy jones and the six imagine #daisy jones and the six fanfiction #daisy jones and the six x reader

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gor3-hound · 10 months ago

Note

🪲 :3

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

hmm... i shared the welt one earlier sooo... here's a different wip :33 sister ashley x reader !!

Ashley hasn't been the same since Spain. You can't blame her, really. You're not sure you'd be all happy go lucky after being kidnapped by a weird Spanish bug cult. Still, you're glad to have your sister back. You missed her. It was weird not having her cling to your side all the time. Your dad never let you have a puppy, but that's alright. You had Ash. Except, if Ash wanted a puppy, your dad would want a puppy. Well, life could be unfair sometimes. You had to suck it up and move on.

You suppose you got lucky. No one would've kidnapped you. I mean, they always kidnap the younger sibling anyway. Parents are always more protective of the little sister. Even so, kidnapping the president's bastard child wouldn't exactly stir up a fuss. Daddy probably prays for something to make you go away every night. You caused him enough scandals during his election.

Oh, the older daughter? Yeah, she's pretty, but she doesn't quite look like Mr. President.

Her? Don't you think she looks more like that secretary that got laid off at the start of the campaign? Yes, Mr. Graham's.

Needless to say, your dad isn't your biggest fan. Neither is the First Lady. She worked quick on getting herself knocked up as soon as your mom popped you out. Make sure your dad was stuck with her. Your dad makes you call her mom, even if she acts like she wants to bash your head against the wall repeatedly every time you do. Even when you were a kid, it was the same. She said you'd ruined your dad's life. He'd been really making a breakthrough in his political career when you showed up. He wanted to run for president one day - He'd never make it with a stain like you on his record.

Of course, it wasn't really until about fifteen years after that little conversation that he decided to run for president, but the past has a way of haunting you. Still, despite the scandals, he won. Daddy's the president.

Ashley is a sweetheart, though. You couldn't ask for a better sister. She's always been so clingy, latching onto your arm and following you all over the place. She's the only reason you even get invited to any events - all she has to do is pout her lips and ask dad, and he was quick to crumble to her every command.

#asks <3 #ask game

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kamii22 · 1 year ago

Text

~welcome to my account~

i’m kami and im currently obsessed with life is strange but i write for multiple fandoms (my obsession changes a lot)

main account: @kamii-2

==================================

requests: CLOSED

==================================

masterlists

life is strange (currently no masterlist/stories)

stranger things (currently no masterlists/stories)

outerbanks (currently no masterlists/stories)

wednesday (currently no masterlists/stories)

==================================

things about me

lesbian

im 18

mixed (black & white)

i’m learning spanish 😛

i’m active every once and a while

rules for requesting

will write: smut, fluff, angst, homophobia, racism (to a extent bc it’s the olden days and it very much did exist), death, light/kind of hard kinks

won’t write: sexual assault, pedophilia, death, incest, hardcore kinks (piss,shit,puke, etc.), threesomes (bc im not that good at writing yet)

pairings: girl x girl, boy x boy, girl x boy, platonic relationships, sibling relationships, character x character, character x reader

please be patient if you send in a request and it doesn’t come out in a day or two, i have a life outside of tumblr

I WILL NOT WRITE SMUT/SEXUAL CONTENT FOR PEOPLE UNDER 16 , THE MOST I WILL WRITE IS MAKING OUT/KISSING

who/what i write for

life is strange (requests open)

characters: max caulfield, chloe price, rachel amber, victoria chase, warren graham, steph gringrich, kate marsh, nathan prescott, mark jefferson

stranger things (requests closed)

characters: robin buckley, steve harrington, eddie munson, jonathan byers, nancy wheeler, joyce byers, tim hopper, argyle, billy hargrove, eleven hopper/jane hopper, will byers, mike wheeler, max mayfield, lucas sinclair, dustin henderson

outer banks (requests closed)

characters: john b, kiara carrera, jj maybank, pope heyward, sarah cameron, cleo, rafe cameron, topper, barry

wednesday (requests closed)

characters: wednesday addams, enid sinclair, tyler galpin, xavier thorpe, bianca barclay, ajax petropolus, eugene ottinger

types of things i write

headcannons

fics

incorrect quotes

blurb

==================================

#stranger things #outer banks #wednesday #life is strange

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fantasyescapes17 · 2 years ago

Text

Wings (Part 3)

Genre: Mingyu x Female!reader. Regency!AU. You are Jeonghan's sibling so your last name is Yoon but the reader has no other physical characteristics.

Warnings: Discussions of social anxiety, kinda sleazy Baron, smoking (don't smoke kids, the characters in this story are from a time when they didn't know how bad it was for their health)

Word Count: 6.1k+

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

You were determined that the Hessington's ball would be your grand societal redemption.

You spent most of Saturday preparing yourself physically and mentally for the evening ahead. Mr. Kim had written out a list of potential conversation starters, compliments, and other helpful notes and tips for you to practise with. You read and memorised his notes thoroughly. Mr. Kim's bold penmanship had almost become more familiar to you than your own handwriting.

Your first foray into London society had been clumsy and poorly thought through. But you were reborn, you had learned from your mistakes, and you could not possibly be more prepared.

Of course, there was one small aspect of your life that no amount of preparation could ever help you overcome.

"I insist on continuing to chaperone you myself," your mother announced firmly.

You bit your lip. "Mother, there is really no need-"

"There is every need," she said. The carriage rolled down the street towards the Hessingtons' manor with only the two of you in it. Your brother and sister-in-law would be attending the ball but to avoid your mother's ire, they rode in a separate carriage.

"Jeonghan is very well suited to make introductions for me to the eligible gentlemen," you protested weakly.

"I will not hear of it. Why should I trust that man to find you a good husband? He certainly did nothing useful for your elder sister. Now, I have heard that Baron Wright is on the lookout for a bride. He was courting Miss Hong earlier, but naturally she ruined herself so he is very much available."

You blinked. You had heard of Miss Hong's misfortunes from your sister-in-law.

"Was he not the one who spread the rumours that ruined Miss Hong?" you demanded.

Your mother frowned. "And why should that matter?"

You were silent. It was no use arguing with your mother. She always had to have the last word and frankly, it was easier to simply let her have it.

The carriage rolled to a stop and you took a deep breath as you descended. The familiar nerves and anxiety in your chest slowly began to build when you saw the number of fashionable people walking towards the entrance.

"Don't lean on your left leg so much," your mother hissed in your ear. She had seized your arm in a painfully tight grip. "If you limp, people will ask questions. Stand straight."

Your mother's death grip on your arm was not helping your breathing. You forced a smile on your face as the Hessingtons welcomed you at the entrance of the manor. Their ballroom was smaller than the Grahams' and consequently felt less intimidating but more suffocating.

Your mother's fingers dug harder into your arm.

"You look flustered," she hissed again. "People will notice. Relax and smile prettily, not as though someone is forcefully pulling your cheeks apart."

Your chest felt tighter and tighter.

"I am trying-"

"Miss Yoon! Mrs. Yoon!" a gentleman's voice greeted you loudly.

It would be an understatement to say that relief flooded through every single cell of your body at the sound of Mr. Kim Mingyu's voice. His deep voice and charming smile was to you what a lifeboat would be to a man drowning at sea. Your shoulders relaxed and you beamed up at your handsome saviour.

"Mr. Kim," your mother greeted him with a simpering smile. "How lovely to see you."

He nodded politely at your mother. "And you, madam. But I confess nothing can be more lovely than seeing your daughter. May I have the pleasure of your first dance, Miss Yoon?"

You did not give your mother the opportunity to interfere. You instantly placed your hand in his.

"Of course, Mr. Kim."

He smiled and whisked you away from your mother just in time to join the dancing that was about to begin. Mr. Kim was a considerate dancer. You allowed him to take the lead and he leaned closer to speak to you in a hushed tone.

"Not a great start to the evening?" Mr. Kim asked you gently. "You already look a little worried."

"My mother is not helping," you admitted with a sigh. "With her chaperoning me, I have a real voice in my ear to criticise me in addition to the one inside my head."

"I consider it my duty to help you silence both voices," he replied with a grin.

"We may be able to silence the one in my head yet, but my mother? She is beyond even your capabilities, Mr. Kim," you teased him.

Mr. Kim looked playfully affronted. "Do you think I am unfamiliar with your mother? You forget that I have years of experience orchestrating your sister's social appearances. Indeed, I am one of the few men responsible for preventing your mother from making her a match. I shall be very disappointed if your sister and Seungcheol do not have a special mention for me at their wedding reception."

You giggled. "Perhaps they will. But I hope you will not employ the same tactics with me. We are not aiming to ruin my prospects. I intend to find my husband."

"We can find you a husband while also keeping your mother away from you."

"An ambitious goal. If you can achieve it, then you shall certainly have a special mention at my wedding reception," you promised him.

Mr. Kim grinned down at you.

"I have a certain magical touch when it comes to these matters," he replied. "Look! It is your first dance at tonight's ball and you are already dancing marvellously and having a normal conversation with me. I dare say you look almost confident, my dear Miss Yoon."

You stared up at him. While wrapped up in Mr. Kim's smooth words and following his comfortable lead, you had almost forgotten that you were in the middle of a crowded ballroom with people watching your every move.

"I feel relaxed with you," you admitted. "But I must replicate this success with other gentlemen before I can congratulate myself."

"I promise you shall. Now; our dance will come to an end soon, and I think it is important that we choose your next dance partner carefully to prevent any relapses."

You glanced around the room nervously. "I think my mother may expect me to dance with Baron Wright this evening. She was talking about him earlier."

Mr. Kim's eyes widened. "Terrible idea. I think you should start with someone simpler- allow me to make the necessary introductions. Mr. Wen Junhui is a businessman and he travels frequently in Asia with his business partner, Mr. Xu. He delights in talking about his travels. If you can only ask him a few polite questions about them, he will talk about them long enough to keep you occupied for the entire dance."

You took a deep breath. The idea of dancing with anyone other than Mr. Kim was nerve-wracking but you had to do it. You trusted him; his advice had not failed you so far.

The dance came to an end and you followed Mr. Kim off the dance floor. He swiftly and expertly led you away from your waiting mother and towards a pair of gentlemen that stood near a refreshment table.

"Mr. Wen! Allow me to introduce you to Miss Yoon. She is the youngest sister of Mr. Yoon Jeonghan and I have taken it upon myself to find her next dance partner," Mr. Kim said brightly.

Mr. Wen was a handsome man with a friendly countenance.

"It would be an honour to have your next dance, Miss Yoon," he said.

You accepted his hand nervously. It was not as easy as it had been with Mr. Kim, and it was difficult not to let the nerves overwhelm you. You noticed Mr. Kim watching you carefully from the corner of your eye. He gave you an encouraging smile.

You can do this.

You had to give Mr. Kim credit where it was due. He had a knack for these things, and Mr. Wen proved to be a perfectly safe choice for your first dance partner. Junhui was an exceptional dancer and enjoyed talking about his travels in Asia.

You only really had to smile and nod through the dance. Mr. Wen spent most of it excitedly telling you about some exotic dance performances he had witnessed while touring Japan and a safari where he had seen lions and elephants up close. He did try to politely ask you about yourself, which was the only brief moment when you sensed that the conversation was entering dangerous territory.

Mr. Kim was watching closely from the corner of the ballroom and you remembered the notes he had prepared for you. You took a deep breath and used some of his clever one-liners, carefully placing the conversational ball back in Mr. Wen's court so that you did not have to keep it going.

"Thank you, Miss Yoon," Mr. Wen said once you finished the dance. "That was a wonderful dance."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Wen. I enjoyed it as well."

He left. You were so thrilled by your success that you simply stood alone for a moment and revelled in your achievement. You had done it. You had made it through an entire dance with a gentleman without stumbling, stuttering, or making a faux pas.

This was, in comparison to your first ball, a resounding success.

"You seem pleased," Mr. Kim remarked with a grin as strode up to you. "I presume that went well?"

"It went excellently," you gushed. "You were right. I did not need to worry so much about the conversation, as long as I knew the right words to encourage him to do most of the speaking. And since the conversation was flowing smoothly I only needed to focus on my dancing."

"No dangerous thoughts?"

"No dangerous thoughts," you confirmed happily.

Mr. Kim opened his mouth to respond but he was interrupted by the arrival of your mother. The mere sight of her caused your smile to fall and the situation was worsened by the fact that she was accompanied by a tall and imposing-looking man.

"My dear!" your mother gushed. "You must come see who has asked to be introduced to you- Baron Wright himself!"

Baron Wright's eyes landed on yours. He reached for your hand and lifted it to your lips in a way that made your skin crawl. "Miss Yoon," he said silkily. "It is a delight to make your acquaintance. I have heard so much about you. You are certainly this season's most awaited debutante."

His words were somewhat familiar and you realised that you had heard them before- in your own voice, reading them out in front of a mirror from Mr. Kim's notes.

You forced a smile. "Thank you, Baron Wright."

"May I have the pleasure of the next dance-"

Mr. Kim interrupted him with a polite smile that did not reach his hard eyes. "I am afraid that pleasure already belongs to me, Baron Wright. Miss Yoon has promised this dance to me."

Baron Wright's smile faltered. "I believe you have already danced with Miss Yoon once this evening."

"And I intend to dance with her again."

"Then perhaps the next-"

Mr. Kim cut him off rudely and extended his hand to you. "Come, Miss Yoon, the music is beginning."

You were wide-eyed and numb from the shocking encounter. Mr. Kim whisked you away quickly for another dance and you looked up at him in shock. "Mr. Kim! How could you be so rude to a Baron?" you demanded in a hushed tone.

Mr. Kim raised an eyebrow. "Was I?"

"Exceedingly so?"

"Good. I have the displeasure of knowing Baron Wright better than I'd like. A man who maliciously ruins the lives of others is not one whom I care to be polite to."

Your voice softened. "Oh yes; my sister-in-law mentioned that you were good friends with Mr. Jeon Wonwoo. I imagine you were part of the group of gentlemen who attempted to prevent Baron Wright from creating the scandal."

"I was," Mr. Kim's voice was hard. "He was rude and unreasonable. Viscount Hong offered him a tremendous sum of money but the Baron insisted on spreading the rumour anyway."

You swallowed. "But my mother is quite set on him."

"I am sure you will be able to manage even the likes of Baron Wright soon enough," Mr. Kim told you gently. His dark gaze softened as he looked down at you. "But for now, I would recommend that we keep him at a distance."

"Understood. Thank you."

As you danced, Mr. Kim told you more about how Baron Wright had single-handedly ruined the lives of both Mr. Jeon Wonwoo and Miss Hong by spreading a rumour that they had been caught in a compromising position at the Duchess’ ball. The pair had been forced to enter into a loveless marriage and leave London due to the scandal. You could tell from Mr. Kim’s tone that the story pained him. He evidently cared greatly for Mr. Jeon and worried about him.

“It is such a horrible thing to hear about,” you admitted with a sigh. “I am shocked that Miss Hong was strong enough to bear it. To be caught in a scandal would be my worst nightmare.”

Mr. Kim sighed. “Indeed; the irony of the situation is that they were not even lovers at all.”

“Would it have made a difference if they were?”

“If they had truly been lovers then they would not have gotten caught in a compromising position so easily,” Mr. Kim told you with a chuckle. “Wonwoo’s lack of experience and intent was his undoing. If he had truly wanted some time alone with a paramour then I would have been glad to point out a hundred different places he could have done so without being caught.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “And you are the resident expert in such matters?”

He grinned mischievously. “Surely you have not forgotten that I am a rake? I know I often act like a gentleman but really, Miss Yoon, you should not allow my charming manners to fool you.”

“I think,” you said thoughtfully as you looked up at the man in front of you. “You are a gentleman who acts like a rake, and not a rake who acts like a gentleman.”

“Is there a difference?”

“I believe so.”

Mr. Kim seemed content with your assessment. You observed that while he was not frivolous by any means, he seemed to take everything that people said about him in a light-hearted spirit. The dance came to an end and you were approached by your sister-in-law. Mr. Kim greeted her warmly before moving away to converse with Jeonghan.

Your sister-in-law took your arm and pulled you aside. She was smiling.

“You seem to be almost a different person than you were last week,” she told you brightly. “You are glowing.”

You pressed your gloved hand to your cheek, embarrassed. “Am I?”

“You are. You looked beautiful dancing with Mr. Kim earlier. I don’t think I have ever even seen you smile so brightly! It was certainly very different from your dance at the Duchess’ ball. Mrs. Patty and all those old crones were talking about how you were the belle of the ball and I even heard a few gentlemen say that they could not wait for their turn to dance with you.”

It was high praise indeed. You tried to stay calm.

You bit your lip and nodded. “I think the credit goes to Mr. Kim. I am not sure why, but I feel entirely comfortable in his presence. He seems to understand me very well."

Your sister-in-law's smile stiffened a little. "You seem to have grown quite close with him."

"Perhaps I have."

"Are you in love with him?"

Your eyes widened at the sudden question. "No!" was your immediate answer, before you paused to actually consider it. You glanced at Mr. Kim out of the corner of your eye. "At least, I do not think so. I do trust him but that is partly because you trust him. And as I mentioned before, I feel quite relaxed and comfortable with him unlike with other gentlemen."

She nodded. "I see."

"Do you think I am in love with him?" you asked anxiously. "Did you feel comfortable and relaxed with my brother when you met him?"

Your sister-in-law looked mildly embarrassed. "I… would not say that comfortable describes our early interactions very well. I found Jeonghan more thrilling and exciting than comfortable."

You tilted your head thoughtfully. "I don't think I find Mr. Kim very thrilling. I must not be in love with him, then."

"Perhaps not," your sister-in-law replied simply.

Your conversation was brought to a halt by the approach of a familiar, imposing-looking gentleman. Baron Wright had made a beeline for you. Horrified, you turned towards Mr. Kim Mingyu for help; but Mr. Kim was facing away from you while he spoke to Jeonghan and had not noticed the Baron at all.

"Miss Yoon," the Baron greeted you in his silky tone. "I was unable to secure your company for the previous dance. Will you join me for this one?"

Your eyes widened in panic. You glanced at your sister-in-law but even she could think of no way to save you from the Baron without causing a scene. You could not possibly refuse his request for a dance without being shockingly rude.

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

"Y-yes," you said shakily after counting to five in your head and realising that nobody was coming to rescue you from this situation. "I-it would be a pleasure."

The Baron took your hand. His grip was strong, much stronger than it needed to be and you realised to your horror that the dance was a slow waltz. His other hand placed itself firmly and uncomfortably on your back.

Your skin crawled.

"Miss Yoon," Baron Wright began as he led you into the dance. His steps were too fast; it was difficult to keep up with him. "It seems you are one of the most desired young ladies in the room. Most of the ton is talking about how you made a mark during your presentation in court."

You were not listening to him. His words were like white noise in your ears. It was sinking in that you were not only dancing with one of the richest and most influential gentlemen in the room. This was the man who had reduced Miss Hong- confident, beautiful, fashionable, rich Miss Hong- to a mere joke, a subject of the ton's ridicule. He had unsympathetically and single-handedly ruined a Viscount's sister.

What could he do to you?

Anything.

It was sheer terror that caused your hands and knees to tremble as you tried to keep up with the dance. His steps were quick and you recoiled from his unpleasant touch.

"Miss Yoon?" he repeated.

"Y-yes?"

"I was talking about your presentation in court."

Your throat was tight and you could hear his voice only faintly over the sound of your heart pounding in your chest.

"M-my presentation," you said quickly. "Yes. It… it went very well."

"I know. I was there."

"Oh."

It was all ending. Baron Wright would tell everyone that the younger Miss Yoon was a babbling fool, that she could not keep up with a slow waltz and could barely hold a conversation and your prospects would be ruined and nobody would marry you and your sister, your poor, dear, unmarried, longing-for-Mr..Choi sister….

The anxiety spiral had reached its peak.

"Miss Yoon?"

Your eyes snapped up to look at the Baron again.

"Y-yes?"

"I asked how you are finding London. I imagine your first season cannot be easy," the Baron said simply.

You tried to remember what Mr. Kim had taught you. What had he said to do when you were spiralling into anxious thoughts of your sister? Something about a happy thought, a pleasant memory, a pony…

It was useless. You could not even remember what Chocolate the pony looked like. What popped into your mind's eye was not a distant memory Chocolate the pony from when you were ten years old, but the clear fresh memory of Mr. Kim Mingyu.

Mr. Kim's charming smile, the way his eyes twinkled playfully down at you and the way his warm hand felt in yours. His familiar, clean scent and how his mere presence put you at ease and relaxed your nerves. You could almost see him now.

You could almost pretend Baron Wright was Mr. Kim.

It did not come naturally. The two gentlemen looked very different, but you only had to look in the Baron's direction while allowing your mind's eye to take over. You told yourself that this was Mr. Kim's hand in yours, that he was the one standing in front of you with a cheeky smile and teasing you about your first season in London.

"London," you said shakily. "Suits me very well."

Baron/Mr. Kim nodded. "I imagine it can be quite daunting for young ladies such as yourself."

"I certainly prefer the countryside since I grew up on the estate and spent most of my childhood there. But I cannot pretend that country life has any of the excitement that London provides. They each have their own virtues."

"Spoken like a diplomat."

"What do you prefer, sir?"

"I rather like London. As you said, it is filled with excitement and I spend most of my time here. Once I am married, however, perhaps I will retire to my country estate to be with my family more."

You wondered what Mr. Kim's estate was like. You knew he had one, but you had never asked him about it.

"Tell me more about your estate," you said.

You listened in silence as Baron Wright began to talk about his grand countryside estate and his manor with thirteen bedrooms and large hunting grounds. Your heartbeat was no longer out of control. There was still a tight feeling in your chest but it had become manageable and you concentrated on your steps to keep the dance going smoothly.

The dance finally came to an end. The Baron did not release you immediately and you almost had to squirm your way out of his grasp and walk away from him.

Mr. Kim was standing near the wall of the ballroom. He was looking right at you, his dark eyes filled with a genuine worry and concern as he walked towards you briskly.

"I am so sorry," Mr. Kim said to you in a low voice. "I did not see him, I should have intervened. Are you all right?"

You avoided his gaze.

"I need a smoke," you mumbled.

Mr. Kim's expression softened with understanding. He cleared his throat and then whispered to you quickly and furtively. "Walk out of that door and go down the hallway. Third door to the right is a balcony. I will join you in two minutes."

You nodded and swiftly followed his instructions. You emerged onto a deserted balcony and took a deep breath of the fresh air. It was a few moments later than Mr. Kim emerged onto the balcony with a cigar in hand.

You took it from him silently. Your hands were trembling so Mr. Kim lit it for you and then leaned against the railing as he watched you you take a long shaky, drag and exhale into the cool night air.

"I assume that it was not easy," he said quietly.

"No," you admitted.

"You seem to have emerged from the lion's den without too much trouble. I was watching from the sidelines; you did not appear too flustered towards the end. I even saw you speaking to him. How did you keep the anxiety under control?" he asked.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. Mr. Kim seemed genuinely worried about you.

"I did not," you said before taking another drag from the cigar. The shaky exhale helped relax your nerves. "The anxiety spiralled as it always does but I was… I was able to distract myself from it with a pleasant thought."

Mr. Kim nodded appreciatively. "Ah, yes. Chocolate the pony. Excellent. I am glad that worked."

You looked at him for a long moment? Should you tell him? Should you tell him that it was not thoughts of a godforsaken pony that had grounded you and calmed you but him?

You had been completely open with Mr. Kim from the beginning. From the start you had confessed to him all your fears and insecurities and worries.

But this… this seemed different. For the first time you felt as though what you had done to cope with Baron Wright was simply too personal, too intimate to reveal to Mr. Kim. For the first time, you feared how he might react to this particular revelation.

"Yes," you said simply after a long pause.

Mr. Kim was smiling as he pulled another cigar out of his coat pocket and lit it for himself. "Well, this is certainly a cause for celebration! I expected that it would be weeks before you could make it through a dance with someone like Baron Wright, but you managed it quickly! My pupil has far exceeded my expectations."

You smiled at him shakily. "Your pupil almost had a nervous breakdown in the middle of a crowded ballroom."

Mr. Kim's eyes twinkled. "But the key word is almost."

"I imagine this bodes well for my matrimonial prospects," you replied. "But I would still like your continued support during the upcoming balls."

"Of course. I still have plenty to teach you."

You nodded. There was a brief, comfortable silence between you as you both stood against the balcony railing and smoked. Mr. Kim folded an arm across his chest and then turned to look at you curiously.

"Can I ask you a question, Miss Yoon?"

"Certainly."

"I know that you primary objective this season is to secure a husband so that you can clear the path for your sister to marry Mr. Choi. But did you never hope to find love for yourself? I know most young ladies dream of finding true love."

You bit your lip and shrugged. "Perhaps I did dream of finding true love at one point. This is not how I imagined the process would be, though."

"How did you imagine it would be?"

"I expected that the process of getting to know a gentleman and falling in love with him would be more… natural? Organic? Certainly not filled with forcefully induced conversations and awkward encounters and scheming and…" you paused and pulled out the notes that Mr. Kim had made for you from your skirts. "...rehearsed compliments. How does one fall in love if every word they speak is rehearsed as though it is all a play?"

Mr. Kim grinned. "You would be surprised how many ladies have fallen for those compliments."

You shook your head. "This can't be how one falls in love. Surely. This is merely a pantomime that one performs to find a husband or wife."

"You may have a point," Mr. Kim replied. "It is all a game. One can hone their skills at a game with practice and develop expertise, as I have done. But love… that is not a game."

"Do you not wish to marry?"

Mr. Kim tapped his cigar on the railing and blinked at you thoughtfully. "I have no need to marry. My parents have both passed away. If they had been alive they may have insisted upon my marrying, but in their absence…"

"So you wish to remain a bachelor forever?" you asked. "Are you quite set upon bachelorhood?"

"Not at all."

"Then you might be persuaded to marry?"

"I have yet to find someone with such persuasive capabilities," Mr. Kim said with a chuckle. "But I am afraid in our society the burden of persuasion is upon the gentleman. So the situation may never come to pass."

"Perhaps not."

Or perhaps it will.

—----------------------------------

With the passage of time, it became increasingly difficult to deny that you were falling in love with Mr. Kim Mingyu.

It was a natural outcome. As the busy London social season progressed over the weeks and months, he became an almost constant presence in your life.

Mr. Kim was rarely far from you at any social event. You danced multiple dances together and he helped manoeuvre you out of tricky situations with your mother and other gentlemen. Finally, you both shared a secret cigar in some balcony or stolen corner of a garden at the end of each night.

You had grown used to him, gradually, slowly, almost imperceptibly. Mr. Kim with his charming smiles and playful presence and intuitive remarks had wormed his way into your heart. It took his sudden absence- looking around a ballroom and finding him not there for you to realise just how much of your thoughts and being had started to centre around him.

"Mr. Kim?" Jeonghan replied when you asked about him at the Duchess of Graham's garden party. "Oh, I do not think we shall see him today. He is quite busy these days with the opening of his new art gallery."

"Ah; of course!" your sister-in-law cried. "The grand opening is in two days!"

You nodded. Mr. Kim spoke about the gallery often. He was a patron of the arts, as he called himself; you took this to mean that he enjoyed artwork and often sponsored struggling young artists. His new gallery was an attempt to find a way for less privileged artists to display their artwork where it could be admired by more elite members of society. You respected Mr. Kim's intentions.

"Yes- we are all invited," Jeonghan replied. "It should be a rather interesting event. I know Mr. Kim was worried that he would not be able to open it before the season ended."

You nodded. "I am glad he will."

Jeonghan turned to you with a sigh. "While we are on the subject of the end of the season… how fares your search for a husband, sister? Your mother has been trying to distance me as much as possible from the process. But some gentlemen have approached me to express an interest in you. Is there any gentleman to whom I should grant my approval?"

Your heart sank. It was true; the season was ending, there was barely a fortnight left. You were running out of time to secure a proposal. It was not due to a lack of interest from the gentlemen of the ton, but due to your own reservedness and failure to encourage anyone that you had not received any definitive proposals.

"Who has expressed interest?" your sister-in-law asked Jeonghan curiously.

"Mr. Hessington and Mr. Carter both asked if I believed my sister was partial to them. Not to mention Baron Wright has asked me multiple times for an audience this week. I have been putting him off."

Your eyes widened. "Baron Wright?"

Jeonghan nodded. "I am sure he means to ask for my permission to propose. He has certainly expressed a lot of interest in you despite how difficult Mr. Kim makes it for him."

You bit your lip anxiously. You had to secure a proposal before the season ended but the thought of marrying Baron Wright made you miserable. Nor did Mr. Hessington or Mr. Carter inspire any more positive feelings in you.

It was beginning to occur to you that you did not wish to marry any of these men.

Jeonghan noticed your miserable expression. "Sister? Is something the matter?"

You forced a smile and nodded. "Yes, I… I am thirsty. I shall be back with a glass of juice."

You stood up and walked away. The garden party was held at the Duchess of Graham's vast and beautiful gardens and there were many attendees. You had to pass by Viscountess Hong and Miss Ella Williams to reach the refreshments and the Viscountess called out to you.

"Miss Yoon!" she said brightly. She was a kind woman with an almost motherly presence. "It is rather unusual to see you at a social event without Mr. Kim trailing behind you. Ms. Williams and I were just talking about how this season's belle of the ball has managed to bewitch the ton's most notorious rake!"

You blinked at them in surprise. "Oh… no, Mr. Kim is just very kind…"

Miss Williams giggled. "Yes, excessively kind indeed! So kind that he must dance multiple times with you at every event and goes as far as to snatch you away from other gentlemen!"

You could not blame them for misunderstanding. You forced a smile and nodded. "Well, yes… but Mr. Kim is quite a determined bachelor."

"By which you mean he is a rake," Miss Williams giggled. She suddenly lowered her voice and beckoned you to come closer to her. "I shall show you a secret, Miss Yoon, since I find myself rather fond of you. Do you see this little book? I have been keeping a record of all the bachelors of the ton for a while now."

You peeked at the little book she showed you. It was crammed with multiple pages of small, intense handwriting.

"I have a page for each gentleman," she continued to explain. "Two for Mr. Kim since I could not fit the list of ladies that Mr. Kim is said to have courted in one page. Do you see it here?"

Your eyes widened at the list. It was not short.

"O-oh," you said, your heart sinking.

Viscountess Hong frowned at Miss Williams. "I am not sure that Miss Yoon quite understands what you mean by showing her this, Ella. You had better explain yourself."

Ella's eyes widened. "Oh! I apologise, Miss Yoon, it was not my intent to discourage you! Quite the opposite. It had become quite a habit of mine to add a new name every so often and it occurred to me the other day that it has been months since I had added a new name to the list! You can see here- the very last name is yours, which I added at the start of the season."

You blinked down at your name at the end of the long list. Viscountess Hong looked at you with a warm smile.

"I will not pretend that I am a fan of this list Ella keeps," the Viscountess said with a sigh. "But it is certainly something to think about. I am sure if any young lady had to choose where on that list she wanted her name to be, she would choose the last spot."

Ella giggled. "I do hope you receive a proposal from him soon, Miss Yoon. Not only because I am running out of pages in my book, but also because I think you shine quite brightly when you are with Mr. Kim."

It was becoming too much. The courtship was false, Mr. Kim was only your mentor, you would go so far as to call him a friend, perhaps, but he had never expressed an interest in being anything more. He had certainly never indicated an interest in marriage. You had suppressed all your hopes and thoughts of the future and simply enjoyed the time you spent with Mr. Kim.

But these women did not realise that they were giving you a dangerous sort of hope.

"Thank you," you said politely to the women before leaving. You went back to your sister-in-law. She was seated alone now, as your brother had walked away to speak to some other gentlemen.

"Are you all right?" she asked you.

You shook your head miserably. Your hands were trembling. "I think I have done something that you will consider me very, very foolish for having done."

Her expression was gentle. "And what is that?"

"I think I have fallen in love with Mr. Kim."

She did not seem surprised. Her hand reached out to grasp yours comfortingly. She lowered her voice. "My dear. There is nothing foolish about falling in love. It happens to all of us, each in our own time and in our own way. The foolishness is only regarding what we do with our feelings."

"And what shall I do with mine?"

She bit her lip. "I cannot pretend to know Mr. Kim's heart. You must find out for yourself what it is."

"How shall I do that?"

She laughed. "You show him yours, my dear."

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

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