#but i'm part of the company and get to keep growing and learning and dancing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

author-morgan · 2 years

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Eivor has really started grow on me (honestly that boy is 🥵 - could I ask for a Eivor/reader where the reader misinterprets a moment between Eivor and Randvi and gets upset, thank you 😊

here you go! sorry it took so long. I'm finally getting caught up on everything. hope you like it! as always, @mrsragnarlodbrok helped develop the plot. m!Eivor x fem!Reader

“DO YOU EVER miss Norway?” Ceolbert asks, untangling his fishing line. The young ætheling has been in Ravensthorpe for no less than a full moon’s cycle. He’s good company —eager to help and learn under your and Randvi’s tutelage. The River Nene burbles past the growing settlement, flowing out to the sea. A fish takes the bait, a piece of three-day-old bread, and you start hauling in the line. A small perch is on the hook, too small to worry with. You free the fish and let it back into the river, searching for a larger catch to add to the evening’s pot of stew.

“At times,” you answer —knowing you miss the snowcapped peaks, the winter lights dancing in the sky, and the pink-purple sunrises most of all. England is not so poor a substitute, with green rolling hills, pale sea cliffs, and the lonely ruins of a once-great civilization. “But all my friends and those who I love is here now” —you smile— “what more could I ask for than to be among them?” And for you, home will always be where they are, regardless of where in the world you may lay your head to sleep. Though, of late, Ravensthorpe has felt a little less like home with Sigurd and Eivor gone so often.

Ceolbert echoes your smile. He’s heard stories from Eivor and his brother about you, and now that he’s grown to know you, he realizes none of them held any embellishments. Despite only being a handful of years older than him, there is already a dignified shrewdness surrounding you, especially when compared to his compatriots. You’ve already taught him a great deal, and he’s eager to learn more. “Eivor often spoke of your wisdom,” he notes.

“So,” you muse, “he does listen.” The young ætheling laughs and starts pulling in a decent size brown trout to add to the basket. You often cursed Eivor for his stubbornness and how it seems he often disregards your counsel in favor of the more reckless options, but it does soothe your heart to know he remembers your words —even if he does not listen. There’s a tug on your line, and you begin to pull in the catch, a bullhead just the right size to join the evening pot.

A familiar squawk draws your attention to the sky —a raven circles above before diving down, eager to make off with a small fish or two from the basket. But you know the raven and his oil-slick colored feathers, and instead of making off with one of your daily catches, he settles on your shoulder and begins to preen his belly. “Hello, Sýnin,” you greet, offering one of the bait worms as a snack. Casting your line out into the river again, you wait for another fish to bite; knowing where Sýnin goes, Eivor will not be far behind. But until then, it feels like time has slowed.

You spot the sails emblazoned with the Raven Clan’s sigil coming around one of the river's bends, and Ceolbert notices how you seem to light up —and your smile when you first spot Eivor Wolfsmal standing at the prowl. The ætheling takes your fishing line and the basket holding the day’s catch and starts back toward the heart of the settlement as you make your way to the docks.

“Eivor!” He steps from the longship, not sparing a moment before engulfing you in his arms. You press your face into his scarred neck and breathe a long sigh —now Ravensthorpe feels like home again. Eivor’s lips brush against your temple before he parts, keeping you close at his side as the others unburden the longship with goods and supplies. “How did you get on in East Anglia?” This journey was not planned, but one made in haste after Rued’s Clan attacked in the night, an offense he could not let stand.

He drapes his arm over your shoulders. “The Raven Clan has new friends,” Eivor tells you. Oswald is an unlikely ally for sure, but one who will answer the call should it ever sound.

“That is good to hear” —you smile. “We must celebrate,” you tell him, knowing the people would want to hear of his tales, just as they had when he returned from treating with the Sons of Ragnar. The thought of readying a feast sets your mind racing with a long list of chores.

Eivor shakes his head and steps in front of you. He settles his hands on your cheeks, thumbs running over your cheekbones. It nigh stops your heart, and then he smiles. “Ah,” Eivor sighs, “seeing you once more is enough for me.” He steps closer and bends at the waist, pressing his lips —cracked and wind-chapped— to your forehead. And he’s home again.

RAVENSTHORPE FEASTS IN celebration. It is good to have new friends —new allies in what would be a hostile land. The evening passes with boisterous tales of battle, roast boar, and Tekla’s mead. It is good to have everyone, save Sigurd, present once more too. You sit back, leaning against one of the great wooden pillars of the longhouse, and let out a long and tired sigh, wondering how much longer it would be before you end up like Revna beside you —slumped over on the table and fast asleep.

Nigh everyone is far enough into their tankards and ale horns for the night that they will not notice Eivor’s absence. His gaze flits around the longhouse, finding you sitting at the far end with Sýnin perched on your shoulder. The raven croaks at his approach and ruffles his feathers. You look up at Eivor and smile —and his heart swells and flutters with the sight. Sýnin hops from your shoulder to Eivor’s then settles in the rafters above.

“Come with me,” he whispers at your ear, offering his hand. His fingers curl around yours when you place your hand into his, and you only hope the warmth rising to your cheeks can be blamed on the mead.

Eivor leads you to the waterfall just behind the longhouse. It’s one of your favorite spots to come in the settlement —the constant rush of the water is enough to soothe your heart and mind, and the rippling pool has served as a place you often frequent to reflect.

Tonight, a full moon turns the water silver. Eivor eases his hand from yours and reaches behind him, pulling out a small earthen vase with a piece of fabric stretched over the opening. He pulls back the fabric, and a dozen little insects take flight toward the water —lighting up with a yellow-green glow. “They’re called fireflies,” Eivor explains, extending his hand over the water’s edge. One of the sparking bugs lands in his palm, and he reaches for your hand, letting the firefly crawl from his hand to yours.

You watch the bright flashes of light —like tiny stars— and smile, yet another wonder of England. “How lovely,” you muse aloud, holding your hand out for the firefly to rejoin its brethren. They flutter around the waterfall, twinkling in the night. You sit, and Eivor sits next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours —it sets your heart aflutter, but you gather the courage and lean your head on his shoulder. Instinctively, Eivor wraps his arm around your waist, holding you close to his side. “Can I expect you to stay a while this time?” You ask, hoping he will not have to leave again so quickly.

He shifts and presses his cheek to the crown of your head. “Until Sigurd sends for me,” Eivor tells you, watching the fireflies flit around above.

IT’S ONLY TWO days after his return that you see Eivor and Randvi ride from Ravensthorpe in the early hours of the morn. Seeing him go without a word makes your heart fall. It isn’t like Eivor to go off without telling you, and given one of the late-night conversations you’d had with Randvi in Sigurd’s absence —well, you refuse to dwell on the thoughts. Ceolbert leaves the stables from helping Rowan when he sees you approach, crestfallen though you try to hide it. “Did they say where they’re going?” You ask, looking toward the east and the direction Eivor and Randvi had gone.

“Grantebridge,” Ceolbert answers, still unsure why they were going there unless Soma had sent a message —but you nor anyone else had mentioned receiving anything from the jarlskona. He looks between you and the morning sky and tries to think of something that might help cheer you up. “There’s an orchard to the north,” the ætheling supplements, hoping he can help remedy the crushing waves of despondency which have overtaken you so quickly. “Perhaps we could go?” He asks. “It’s only a short ride.”

You smile, and Ceolbert can see it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Very well,” you agree. Rowan helps saddle two horses —one speckled and one chestnut— and the two of you ride out before midday. It’s a slow and steady ride across the hills and rivers to the orchard just south of Ledecestre. A bramble of unkempt trees heavy with green-red apples too tart to eat raw but good for stewing and baking. It’s easy to fill two small sacks, just enough for Tarben to make a pie or two.

Ceolbert secures his sack of apples to his saddle and pulls himself back into the saddle as you do so, starting back to Ravensthorpe. The ætheling asks about a story from childhood that Eivor told him at the feast —he’d fallen from the roof of the longhouse in Fornburg and on his arse, right in front of you, only you’d been carrying a basket of deer offal.

The memory makes you smile and laugh, the first time you’ve genuinely done so today. You dropped the basket in surprise —it landed on Eivor, spilling guts and blood over him. It took several washes to clean the stench from his clothes and hair. Ceolbert glance at you and smiles too, and from the fondness in your voice, he thinks it’s obvious. “You love him, don’t you?”

Yes, but for some reason, you struggle to say it aloud, Regardless, Ceolbert can tell, and despite what you may think, he believes Eivor loves you too —if only you could both see it. You look ahead at the winding road, wishing to change the subject away from your feelings, away from Eivor. “They say Ivarr the Boneless was also your mentor.” You’ve heard stories of Ivarr Ragnarsson from other Northmen and Saxons alike, part of you envies Eivor and Sigurd for getting to meet the renowned Sons of Ragnar —let alone being able to call them friends. Ceolbert nods. “Will you tell me about him?” He nods and weaves a tale of his time with Ivarr, helping distract you from the woes of life.

The sun is close to setting when you and Ceolbert return to the stables of Ravensthorpe, passing off your horses to Rowan. “I’ll have Tarben make us a pie,” you tell the boy, collecting the small sacks of apples to take to the bakery. But hooves thud, fast approaching —Eivor and Randvi have returned. You do not stay to greet them, quickly slipping away.

“Ceolbert,” Eivor greets, leading his dark mount back into one of the stalls. “Where is…” his voice trails off as he turns to look for you, wondering where you’d gone.

“She was here a moment ago,” Ceolbert says, turning to look around the stables, but you’re already gone, and so is Eivor when he turns back.

EIVOR FINDS YOU sitting beneath one of the great trees near Valka’s hut —knees pulled up to your chest as your look over the ripping pool of water. He kneels in front of you and reaches out, rough fingertips brushing along your jaw to gently lift your chin and gaze. Tearstains are not the sight he wishes to see. Eivor frowns, brushing away the dampness under your eyes with his thumb. “Why are you crying?” You do not answer. “Has something happened?” He asks, unsure what could cause this bout —just last night, you and he were both laughing and drinking without care.

“I am not sure,” you admit. It's heartbreak and a tinge of betrayal. With his return, you had thought, had hoped, but it seems it’s only foolish and childish wishes. You meet his gaze, clear and blue like the sky, and feel a lump grow in your throat. Sýnin croaks from the branches above —the raven has refused to let you be alone since he first perched on your knee and dropped a smooth river pebble in your lap after finding you so distraught. The raven croaks again, and Eivor’s eyes flit up to see a pair of beady dark eyes staring down at him. Sýnin takes your side in whatever quarrel this may be.

His frown deepens. “You can tell me anything,” Eivor breathes. You’re his best friend —have been since the two of you were children all those years ago.

But I can’t, you think, not wanting to risk a lifelong friendship over a dream. You inhale shakily and shake your head, pushing his hands away. “I need a moment, is all.” It’s a trembling whisper, and Eivor does not want to leave you in this state, but he relents, knowing nothing good will come of forced words. You always gave him time and space when asked for it; the least he can do is offer the same. He sighs and stands, hesitant to leave —a look back, and he sees Sýnin swoop down and perch on your shoulder, offering a golden oak leaf.

Eivor goes to the longhouse and grabs an empty cup, filling it from the cask of ale before taking a seat at the table across from Ceolbert —picking at a hunk of bread and slab of pickled fish. “Do you know what’s upset her?” He asks the ætheling, thinking the boy might know given the time he’s spent under your guidance.

“I” —Ceolbert looks down into his cup of ale. He didn’t think it would be difficult for Eivor to figure out. Almost all of Ravensthorpe knows. Everyone but him. Ceolbert frowns. “I do not think it is my place to say,” he tells Eivor.

It feels like Thor has brought Mjölnir down upon his chest when the realization hits him —and suddenly, everything makes sense now, or at least he thinks it does. Eivor feels his heart clench, then fall into the pit of his stomach, and all he can say is a soft, nigh inaudible: “oh.”

IT’S ONLY A short ride to the south, near the border of Grantebridgescire, but Eivor convinces you to go with him even in the dead of night. He cannot bear the thought of you being upset —let alone upset with him. You’re quiet, unusually so, but when he pulls the reigns of his horse to a stop by the edge of the mire, you gasp —albeit softly. Skirting over the still surface of the water and into the air are hundreds of fireflies, all flashing and twinkling like little stars come to settle in the darkness. He dismounts and helps you down too. “There are so many,” you breathe, smiling.

Eivor stands behind you, his hands settling on your waist, chin resting on your shoulder to watch the fireflies with you. But the closeness and how your heart begins to ache and beat quicker, it’s too much to bear after today. You shake your head and step away from him, feeling dampness prick at your eyes again. “I wish you would not play so carelessly with my heart, Eivor,” you tell him, hugging yourself.

“It’s not careless,” he whispers, gently pulling you back to him. Eivor takes your hands, his gaze drawn downward to see how perfectly your hand fits in his —as though the gods always meant for the two of you to be together. And then he looks at you, eyes shining in the moonlight, glimmering with the reflection of fireflies flitting around his head and yours.

It makes your breath catch —how he looks at you. How he’s always looked at you. “You’ve always been at my side,” he tells you. It’s the truth, even when he was a boy and at odds with Sigurd, you were there —you were always there, and he’s been a fool not to tell you sooner. “It’s only ever been you.” Eivor lets your hands go but is quick to take your face into his hands, thumbs brushing over your cheeks with gentle reverence.

“I love you.” But he gives you no time to respond or react even as one of his hands slips back into your hair and he leans forward. Eivor’s lips find your own. His kiss is everything you’ve dreamt of and more —a sweet paradox with his rough but gentle lips and the tickle of his golden beard.

He pulls away too soon but only to watch the soft smile overtake your lips. You comb your fingers through his beard and lean toward him, arms draping over his shoulders, fingers locking at the nape of his neck. You kiss him back, and he wraps his arms around your middle, keeping you close to him —where he had always kept you in his heart.

“Ek ann þér,” you breathe against his lips, and a weight lifts from your heart at finally being able to tell him. You can feel his lips twitch into a smile against your own. When you part, it’s to turn back to watch the fireflies, and now Eivor’s arms are around your middle, his nose nuzzled into your neck. You lean back into him and sigh, almost thinking this is all a dream, but Sýnin’s low croak from the trees above is enough to assure you it’s real.

[ taglist: @mrsragnarlodbrok @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @overratedsun @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @erzsebetrosztoczy @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @edelaen @darkravenqueen98 @callmemythicalminx @rhienn-lavellan-rutherford @certifiedlittleshit @queenyalo @thedragonqueenfan @alessyaraven ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. tumblr was giving me a lot of grief with the tags this time, apologies if I missed anyone! if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

#Eivor #Eivor Wolfsmal #Eivor x Reader #m!Eivor #m!Eivor x Reader #male Eivor #male Eivor x Reader #Eivor Imagine #Eivor Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Valhalla #Assassin's Creed #requested #shamelesspsychicpursebuscuit #lil-monitsu #my writing #remember if you liked this pleases reblog it #also can we appreciate how stunning he looks #valhalla finally gave me some decent lighting and it was a cutscene #also i call these lightning bugs bc thats just how we do in the south

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justsomerandomfanfic · 10 months

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Hello! May I please request a star wars, the hobbit and the arcana match up? ^^

I'm 19, omnisexual and I go by they/them. I am a enfp, 3w4, saggitarious, so basically I'm impulsive, ambitious, fun loving, sensitive, expressive, understanding, always seems a lil high, blunt, out of pocket, creative, rebellious and live by the phrase Yolo. (I also have really bad anxiety, depression and adhd)

I'm like a mix of emo, metalhead, goth and punk in terms of music and style but I like mostly sticking with a cleaner look. I'm pale, 5'4, have shoulder length straight dyed black hair, brown eyes, skinny but has some muscle, lots of scars I am very proud of, and visible scoliosis but I like to pretend it's the emo hunch

I enjoy creating, dancing, music, trying new stuff, fashion, stuff that makes me feel sophisticated, comics, horror, zombies, learning, bugs, dark stuff, my pet bird, experimenting, running, space, writing in code, science, working out, reading, plants, red and black, collecting, info dumping, and I love taking care of things and people for some reason.

Lastly my ideal date is going and trying something new togethor or like a amusement park. What I look for in a person is passion and ambition extra points if there a little dorky lol. My love Language kinda differs from person to person I take there needs and wants into consideration but I am a little touch starved soo :)

And here you go good luck and keep up that good work fellow writer!! <3

Hi! Thanks for requesting a matchup! I hope you enjoy it! Sorry for the wait! <3333

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Star Wars;

Luke Skywalker:

✨ You were already a part of Han's crew when you met Luke, chilling on the Falcon as you fixing one of the monitors; you heard blasters shooting in the distance, watching out the main window to see Han and Chewie running with two other people, (some old guy and a pretty cute looking young guy)

✨ Immediately getting into flight mode, you didn't get the chance to say hello to the newcomers until after you escaped the planet, and that's when you finally met Luke; hubba hubba

✨ Skipping the year that you both were just friends, you and Luke finally got together after he got back from cutting off a Wampas's arm on Hoth, (and after he got out of that water tank), but to get to the point, Han liked to joke around with you both; you were almost polar opposites, looks-wise, Luke was a blondie and you had dyed black hair, and you wore dark colors and he didn't really

✨ But opposites attract, and you and Luke actually had similar personalities, you were both passionate, caring, understanding, fun-loving, and impulsive; you both had anxiety and he definitely had ADHD

✨ Luke really, truly love you, from your love for trying new things to stargazing at the million stars in the sky - you're perfect; and you adored Luke, his willingness to learn and grow, his quirky charm, his bashful smiles, his dorky attitude; he was perfect

---

The Hobbit;

Ori:

🌿 You met Ori when you joined the Company, Gandalf asked you to come along since you were pretty great at knowing what plants can help heal or ones that you could eat, and you were great at keeping things light; basically your job in the group was to make sure no one was upset, trying your best to joke around and get smiles on everyone's faces

🌿 But sometimes you needed someone to bring a smile to your face, and Ori was your guy! From little jokes here and there, or just being his little, dorky self made you smile; he was your little, dorky boi

🌿 There wasn't a lot to collect on the road, so you'd collect a rock wherever you could, and Ori would help, running up to you with a huge, sheepish smile on his face as he handed you a few rocks he had found for you; you're swooning

🌿 Near the end of the journey, Ori took his chance and asked if he could braid your hair; having learned and read about Dwarven culture, you felt your heart skip a beat and you joked a little before saying yes and allowing him to braid you hair

🌿 As said before, Ori's a dork, like the number one dork of all dorks, but he was your dork, and he understood you, he cared about you, and he loved you

---

The Arcana;

Portia:

🐱 You met Portia when you came to visit your friend Nadia, yes, ou were friends with royalty, lucky you; for some reason the other many times you visited Nadia, Portia was at her cottage, what a coinkydink

🐱 But it was love at first sight, you loved how sweet she was, how energetic, upbeat, and mischievous she was; and you absolutely loved her eyes, you could stare at them all day

🐱 You had both started talking, going on walks together, talking about everything and anything, and soon a romance blossoms; from secret kisses in the castle to dancing in the garden, you and Portia were in love

🐱 She loves your bird, and you are so glad that she does; she also loves looking at plants with you, reading with you, trying out new things together, (all when she has free time, that is)

🐱 You both are two sweet peas in a pod, always there for one another, and always bringing out the best in each other :)

---

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lgctaeha · 1 year

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heyo, heyo! it's bobbi ( @lgcbk ) rolling in with my second muse! meet park taeha! a wannabe triple threat ( dance / vocal / shenanigans variety ) gunning for the nation's little sister spot. as always, i kinda sorta figure things out as i go along so i'll be fleshing out her pages periodically, but for now feel free to check the info under the cut for a crash course in taeha-isms, and i'll be hopping around im's to pester for plots ( it's easier for me to keep up with things in the im's but i'm also a bit faster on discord, so let me know if you'd rather plot there! ). That's all for now, and be on the look out for a plot call!

╰ ❮ ❀ flowers bloom with strong roots! / basics & the story so far ; ❯

❀ Esther Park ( she prefers to go by Taeha! ) was born and raised in Honolulu, Hawaii where she lived comfortably with her doting parents and two older siblings, Taeyeon & Taekyung ( cries in throwback ). ❀ She began dancing at an early age ( her parents are quick to tell everyone that she could dance well before she could even walk ) and has been trained in a number of dance styles. ❀ Somewhere around her tweens she found her niche in contemporary dance and continued to train at a local company, while pursuing other creative adventures at her prep academy ( insert montage of Taeha as a cup song acapella kid ).

❀ Taeha's love of K-pop started when her older brother introduced her to all of his favorite groups. Growing up the two were always learning choreography together and annoying their family with roadtrip karaoke. ❀ It was a no-brainer that soon after her graduation she'd be off to Seoul to follow in her brother's footsteps and become LGC's #siblinggoals. ❀ But all her plans came crashing down when Taekyung decided the idol life didn't choose him and hopped on the first plane back to their hometown, leaving Taeha a bundle of emotions. ❀ After two years of adjusting to living life without her brother's immediate support, she's finally feeling like she's got a handle on things ( sometimes... ) and is determined to make her dreams come true.

❀ She's currently majoring in communications at Sookmyung Women's University to keep a promise she'd made to her parents before leaving home. She's not having the best time, and struggles to balance her studies on top of training and work - so if you see her catching a few zzz's in a random practice room don't say anything.

❀ Speaking of work, Taeha's a serial part-timer. Her current gig? Mall mascot ( of the giant pink bear variety ). Just take a coupon and please resist the urge to push her over because she will not be able to get back up for at least 15 minutes.

╰ ❮ ❀ grass is greener where you water it! / personality & quirks ; ❯

❀ Being the baby of the family Taeha's always been pretty sheltered, and can be a bit clueless at times ( she hopes it's endearing? ). Sarcasm goes right in one ear and out of the other, but a dad joke will make her day. ❀ She is also very ( very, very... very... veryvery - ) sensitive. She cries when she's happy, she cries when she's angry, she cries when she takes something out of the microwave and it's still cold in the middle. But hey, at least... Nope, there's no redeeming quality here sorry. ❀ She's always moving. Always. If it's not dancing to some random beat in her head, it's leg bobbing, table tapping, random bouncing. Think of her like the energizer bunny ( on steroids ). ❀ Her proudest moment is the first time she was able to finally hit her whistle note ( and she's done it just about every day since ). ❀ Has a massive sweet tooth and is almost always hoarding some kind of candy and definitely uses it as a bargaining chip for friendship whenever she meets someone new.

╰ ❮ ❀ one flower a garden does not make / connections? ; ❯

❀ Dorm A! I'll most likely come to bug you all individually but definitely give me all the dormmate bonding plots! If she's not crying over a drama or practicing her turns in the kitchen, she's probably going to cling to the first person that walks through door. ❀ 1st-year confidants! If your muse joined anywhere around Jan 2021, they probably witnessed all the water works whether it was due to stressing about her evaluations, cramming for an exam, or being homesick. She'll probably be closer to the friends she met as this time since it was pretty tough, so I'd love to plot out some things around then! ❀ Fangirl hours! Despite going into her 3rd year as an LGC trainee she still gets starstruck. Catch her squealing every time she has a Haru sighting - and no, she won't stop playing Butterfly until a Crystallis sunbae notices her. ❀ Annnnd before I keep rambling on, anything else we can come up with! ( I'll be posting some more well thought out plots to kick off brainstorming soon, but feel free to throw any and all ideas my way! )

#╰ ❮ ❀ ooc ⁄ intro ; ❯#lgc:intro #( please show my small bean taeha love - and mild roasting )

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lgcjaekyung · 1 month

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WORKSHOP OPPORTUNITY 002 ♥ MEETING SOLO

“i feel like... maybe there's more to this than performing.”

Being lead to have a meeting with one of her coaches left Jaekyung curious above all else. She wasn't worried about her performance. She's received a lot of opportunities to grow through LGC Girls Japan. While she wasn't the happiest that after failing to debut with Nova she now still didn't seem fit to join the ranks of Fabula either, Jaekyung was convinced the company saw some value in her somehow. It was just a matter of if their visions aligned which was a question she'd been asking herself more and more lately.

"what do you think are your strengths right now," was the first question she received and couldn't help but hum as her brow threatened to raise in sceptic sarcasm. Did it matter what she answered here? The company would do with her what they thought her strengths to be either way, no? "Well, modeling seems to be one," she thus replies with a tilt of her head and a smile. While she loved modeling, she'd come here to be an idol and not a model. Jaekyung wanted to stand on a stage, go on tours, film music videos and record songs. 5 years in and she was getting the tiniest bit impatient. "I know I'm a great performer and a good singer. so that would be the three skills i'd consider my strengths," she concludes with a nod and a diplomatic smile. An attitude would get her no where after all.

which was proven to her as her coach nodded in approval before continuing forth. "what are three skills that you would like to work on in the next few months?" this one was a little harder to answer or maybe not hard at all- if she gave it a second thought. "ideally i'd probably want to continue and double down on training to be an even better vocalist and performer- dancing included. I also wonder what I might be lacking though? Or test my limits. I've explored so many different things under legacy, the only one missing would be acting at this point. I never got the chance to be part of one of the musical productions legacy had which I would have loved. Perhaps I need to work on my acting to be considered for a project like that?"

"then if given a chance, what types of gigs would you be interested in participating? musicals?" "yeah," she is quick to reply, albeit thoughtful. "it's truly the one thing I haven't done or haven't had the chance to explore. back in school I really enjoyed our musical productions. acting in general, really. so i'd even be open to try a drama as well? i feel like that'd be interesting. it's hard to really know what direction to go... there's so many possibilities but if you spread yourself too thin, you'll risk falling behind those who are more focused."

"would that be one of the lessons that you've learned about yourself during your time here in legacy?" "definitely," she agrees wholeheartedly, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "I came here with one goal in mind: to stand on a stage and perform. that was all I ever wanted, all I had trained towards. when I felt i was ready- admittedly I was hoping i'd debut first chance I get. but somehow... I feel like the company hasn't found my place yet and I'm not sure where to keep looking? how should I change? is it okay if I want to hold onto my original goal? should I be more flexible? should I stay myself? those are questions I began asking myself the more people I see debut around me. what do they have that I don't? It's a question I've been asking myself a lot lately. Should I re-center my focus? I've received a lot of attention for my looks- got a lot of modeling gigs and contracts- should I double down on this instead and try focus on modeling? there's a lot of questions I have no answers to and I'm not sure who to ask that will or can answer me. All I can do right now is to keep going and keep working and do what I do best and hope that i'll find answers down the way. that's one of the most important things I've learned- you can't rush these things. sooner or later you'll find your way somehow." the coach stares at her, taken aback and jaekyung can tell they're about to make a comment about how she matured so she just scrunches her nose and waves her hands vaguely. "nuh uh~ don't say it, please! i'm not ready to feel old!"

and just like that they're back to laughing. jaekyung was simply not ready to grow up just yet.

#lgc:workshops #solo: sequence;

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yesitsmewhataboutit · 2 years

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Hi,could you do a todoroki x fem reader who has a growth quirk and she can't control it sometimes and it's scares people some times so she quite insecure about her quirk but shoto make her feel better of herself by showing what he likes of her but then it's turn into an confession and then it turns into beautiful love making but she accidentally grew while getting off her high and an fluffy ending ((:

Assurance

Todoroki x Reader

Warnings⚠️: 18+

Masterlist

Everyone taught you to love yourself. Love your quirk, no matter what it is, and love yourself. But it was hard. It was hard when you couldn't control your quirk. All your life, everyone was scared of you. You had a growth quirk, and you could grow any part of your body, to an extent. Your body would grow as big as your form would allow. It was pretty big. That scared people. Because of your childhood, you never properly learned to control your quirk. You had no friends, never had a boyfriend, nothing. Nobody wanted anything to do with you.

You got a job at the Todoroki agency. You were Todoroki's quiet assistant. You minded your business, got your work done, and everything always stayed the same. You'd grown to love being Todoroki's assistant. He was always nice to you. No matter how quiet you were, the awkward "thank yous" you'd give when he complimented you on your work. You never would look him in the eye for too long, only nodding quickly and exiting, therefore missing the way he smiles at you and the way he stared at you as you innocently worked.

Tonight was a party for the agency. You didn't want to go, but Todoroki has insisted, saying how you were a big part of the company you were, how nothing would go smoothly without you. You agreed. So there you are, sitting alone at a table while everyone else talks and dances around. Todoroki had wanted to come to sit with you, but he kept getting swapped by other people talking to him, and he didn't get a chance. Finally, after two hours, he got time to breathe. He looked at the table you were at, and you were still there, except a guy was talking to you.

You had sat all night the party wasn't that bad you didn't mind sitting alone. That was until a guy came up flirting with you. You weren't used to someone giving you so much attention. You didn't mind the attention, but this guy made you feel so uncomfortable. "So pretty thing, what do you say we slip out? Having some fun of our own." The guy says with a smirk. "Uh, no thanks. I'm ok." You say, shaking your head. You were stiff, showing how much you wished he'd leave you alone. "Come on. Lighten up." He says, smirking and grabbing your hand, trying to pull you from the table.

You tried to pull your hand from him, saying, "No. I don't want to," but he wouldn't let you go, holding your hand in his and being too strong for you to pull away. "There's no need to be a buzz kill." He spits, a little more annoyed. "Let me go." You say, trying to pull away more forcefully, to no avail. He holds on, trying to keep you in place, so you come with him. You fight back, not letting him, but you lose control of your quirk, both your hands growing a considerable size, causing the guy to go flying a few feet from the table.

The loud crash of him hitting the floor makes the room go silent. Everyone turns their attention to you. The only sound heard was the noise of the music that continued to play. You stand there, paralyzed with fear. You stare down at the floor, not wanting to move, knowing they were all staring at you, fear in their eyes. The guy scrambled to his feet, yelling, "Freak!" and running away. Todoroki watches from afar, moving quickly to go between you and the staring crowd.

Todoroki puts his hand on your shoulder, pulling you away from the crowd. You were embarrassed and so shocked that you didn't register as he ushered you away from the people, taking you out the door and to the back. You finally come back to reality when you feel the cold breeze of the outside air. You look up at him, your eyes welling with tears as your lip starts to quiver. Todoroki puts his arm around you, leading you to his car. He helps you inside the passenger seat and goes to the driver's side.

He drives in silence as you continue to cry, constantly whipping your face. Eventually, he comes to a stop. Getting out of the car and opening the door for you, he drove you home. You got out of the car, and he walked you to the door, unlocking it for you and helping you inside. "H-have a good night," Todoroki said. He had gotten you inside and was standing at the door, ready to leave. "I'm sorry about what happened. You don't need to worry over it," he said. You turned to him, giving him a sad smile and whipping your eyes again. "That party was for your agency. Sorry, I messed it up." You said shyly. "You didn't mess it up. It's no big deal," he said. You shock your head, "I can't control my stupid quirk. I'm a freak, and people know it." You said, starting to cry again.

Todoroki gave you a sad look, stepping further into the house and closing to door behind him. "Y/n, that's not true. So what, you don't have the best control over your quirk. That's nothing to be ashamed of," he assured you. "It's ok, Todoroki. I know I'm a freak. Nobody has ever wanted anything to do with me. Thank you for driving me home. You can go home and enjoy the rest of your night." You say in a sad tone. "Y/n, look at me," he says. You look up, the dim light from the moon through your window being the only source of light. Todoroki had moved closer, only being about two feet. "Do you see me? My hair? My eyes? My scar? People used to say I was a freak. That I was weird, only because of how I look, I would get stared at and made fun of, so what I'm saying is people are stupid. They don't like things that are different. Y/n, you're not a freak. You're beautiful."

You're speechless. As Todoroki talks, he steps closer, and he's now barely a foot in front of you. "That's very nice, but not everyone thinks like that." You say, your voice quiet and low. "But I do. Y/n, I think you're beautiful. You're not a freak, and you didn't mess everything up. You're perfect." He says, stepping closer again, looking down at you, directly in your eyes. Even in the low light, you could see his eyes filled with love. He was talking from his heart. Todoroki was handsome, and you had always thought whatever girl ended up with him would be very happy. You just never thought that girl would be you.

"I've watched you for months. You're the best, most considerate person I know. I never thought you were a freak. I never thought you always mess stuff up. I never thought of anything, except that you were the best person in the whole agency." Todoroki brings his hand up, putting it on your cheek, hovering his face inches from yours. "Y/n. Can I kiss you?" he askes. Your heart jumps, doing flips in your chest as you nod, breathlessly saying, "Yes."

Todoroki leans down, closing his eyes and connecting your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. You can feel his love through the kiss. The way he pulls you close to him, leaving no room between your bodies. You feel him start to pull away, but you chase him, reconnecting your lips. He's surprised at first but wraps his arms around you. You pull at his shirt, leading him to your bedroom. When you get there, he lays you down on your bed, finally pulling away to take a breath and look at you. "If you'll let me, I'll show you. I'll show you how much I feel that you're beautiful," he says. "Ok." You say, your voice shaking from nervousness. "If you want me to stop, or I go too far, just say stop," he says.

Todoroki leans down, capturing your lips in another soft kiss. He brought his hand behind you, dragging the zipper on your back to undo your dress. He pulled it off you, glancing down at your body. Instinctively, you tried to cover yourself. Todoroki looked into your eyes, slowly bringing his hands and moving your arms away from your body. "I told you Y/n. You're beautiful," he whispers. He leans down, kissing around your chest, running his hand down your body, into your underwear. "This is my first time. Nobody has ever wanted to be with me. I've never even touched myself. I was scared of losing control. Even now, I'm- nervous." You say, looking up at the ceiling. "No need to be nervous. It'll be ok." He says, leaning down to kiss you again.

As you kiss, he slowly rubs circles on your clit. You whimper into the kiss, and once he gives you a few seconds, he sticks a finger inside, slowly pushing it in and out of you. Your moans and whimpers go directly to his cock. He slides a second finger in, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out more. You move your head, hiding it in his neck. "I think- I'm g-gonna cum," you stutter. Todoroki curls his fingers, hitting a gummy spot inside you, making you gasp into his neck as you cum around his fingers, your hips moving on his hand, riding through your orgasm. Todoroki pulls his fingers out, putting them to his mouth and sucking. "You taste as good as you look. I love it," he says.

You keep your face buried in his neck, more from embarrassment, but you don't miss the way your stomach fills with butterflies because of his words. Todoroki pulls back, removing his jacket and suit, unbuttoning his pants, and pulling them down. You look at his cock, it being hard and pressing against the fabric of his boxers. He leans down, kissing you again. You feel him hook his fingers in your underwear, pulling them down and then pulling at his boxers. His tip nudges against your wet cunt. "You ready?" He askes, keeping his body pressed on you and your head up, not wanting to give you a chance to look at his long, thick cock, knowing it might scare you.

"Ready." You say, hiding your head in his neck again. He grabs his cock, slowly pushing it into you, his eyes fluttering shut when he feels how tight you are. You gasp at the sudden stretch, holding on to him. You close your eyes as he keeps slowly pushing in. Todoroki kisses your shoulder, trying to distract you from the pain. He finally bottoms out, kissing your shoulder and cooing sweet this in your ear as you cling to him. "Shh, you're doing great. The pain'll pass," he coes. He kisses your neck more and rubs circles on your waist.

After a few minutes, Todoroki leans and says, "I'm going to try moving now. Tell me if it hurts too much." He says, slowly pulling his hips back, holding you close. He pulls his cock all the way out, only leaving in the tip in and then slowly pushing back in, causing your mouth to fall open as you moan. He felt your walls flutter around him, causing him to let out a shaky moan. He sets a slow pace, letting you feel every inch, but still going as deep as he could and finding the spot that made you moan the loudest. "You feel amazing, Y/n." Todoroki breathes out, holding his forehead against yours as he keeps thrusting, slow and deep.

You moan and bite your lip, feeling yourself about to cum again. "I-I- 'm gonna cum again," you say. "Go ahead. Cum on my cock," Todoroki says. He tilts his head, kissing you and speeding up his thrusts slightly. You moan, losing yourself in the pleasure as you cum. Without meaning to, your quirk activates again, both your legs growing a considerable size, your bed crumbling under the weight. You yelp and move your legs away, not wanting to hurt him. Todoroki is quick to console you, saying, "It's ok. It's ok. As you said, it was your first time." He says, caressing your cheek. You pout, laying in the debris of the crushed bed, deactivating your quirk.

When it deactivates, he moves to help you up. Your legs feel sore, so you lean against him, leaning your head into his neck. Todoroki leans down, grabbing the blanket from the bed and putting it around you. "You can stay at my place if you like." He offers as he picks up his clothes. You nod as you watch him get dressed. It was the first time you'd seen his cock, and just how large it was, you couldn't believe it fit inside you. He puts on his clothes, completely ignoring the fact his cock was still painfully hard. He hadn't gotten to finish.

Todoroki leads you out of the house and to his car, still wrapped in your blanket. He helps you in the car, walking to the other side to drive you both to his house. On the way there, you snuggle into the seat, getting sleepy and falling asleep. When he pulls up to the house, he looks over at you, seeing you asleep and smiling, sitting there for a minute, and watching your peaceful figure as you sleep. He gets out, walks to your side, and slowly opens the door, not wanting to make you fall and wake you. He takes you in his arms, walking you into the house and setting you down on his bed.

He goes to the bathroom, getting a cloth and whipping away the sweat and your cum that was still between your legs. He puts you under his covers and strips of his suit, getting in with you. He pulls you to his chest, kissing your forehead and rubbing circles on your back as he slips into a peaceful sleep.

Masterlist

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

The Wrong Lifetime – Four // Wanda Maximoff

chapter three | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter five

author’s note: I hope you all don’t mind the slow burn because it’s like my favourite thing and i promise things will get spicy soon 😂

Since my rather abrupt revelation about Wanda, I found myself racked with guilt.

Not because she was a girl – I couldn't help my feelings in that sense – but because she was my brother's fiancé. And every time he came to me, gushing about how great of a date they had or how much he was falling for her, the guilt hit me like a sharp pain in the chest, because I understood what he was saying. I felt the same.

And it didn't help when they would occasionally go on dates in front of me, and all I could feel was an unexplainable jealousy in the pit of my stomach. I had no right to feel like this when she was an engaged woman. Her naturally flirtatious personality was simply that: a personality. And even though we'd had a genuinely lovely day a week ago when she invited me to her home, it was no reason for me to think of her in such a way.

The next date on Y/B/N and Wanda's journey to marriage was at our house in the garden. I wasn't actually aware of it until I saw them sat on some garden furniture.

My mum wanted me to help her with some gardening and I found her kneeling by some plant pots, a fair distance away from Wanda and my brother. As I approached her, I glanced in the couple's direction, seeing them sat opposite one another and enjoying a selection of finger foods and tea. They were far away enough to have privacy, but close enough for me to make out their expressions.

"For goodness sake, Y/N," my mother said when I kneeled down beside her to help. "Do you have to wear those horrendous trousers?"

I rolled my eyes, sitting on the ground comfortably. "I'm curious, mother. Do you like anything that I do?"

She gave me a disapproving glance. "I'm only looking out for you, dear. That outfit is very... unladylike."

"Well, they're comfortable," I quipped, before grabbing a spade and getting to work.

"So are dresses," she pointed out, continuing repotting her plants. "And they're prettier, too."

"Considering I have to wear a dress all the time and that I'm in the comfort of my own home, I'm going to pretend you didn't just make me feel bad for wearing these."

She didn't say anything, but I could tell she wasn't happy. I didn't mind wearing dresses, but I would be lying if I said trousers weren't more comfortable. The only time I could wear them was at home when doing chores or simply lounging around. I'd make the most of it whilst I could, no matter what comments my mother made.

I wasn't afraid to get my hands dirty as I helped her repot the plants before digging into the soil and planting some seeds she'd bought this morning. My mother, despite adoring gardening, hated getting messy, so you can imagine the look on her face when I got soil all over my clothes.

"I wish you would act like a lady sometimes," she mumbled to herself, but I didn't let it faze me. It was all I heard, so I was used to it.

Laughter sounded from behind us and I risked glancing back, seeing Wanda laughing at something Y/B/N said. I rolled my eyes subconsciously before looking back to what I was doing. My fingernails dug into the soil with irritation, directed at them and also myself. Though, despite my irritation, I still had an urge to glance back at Wanda, and when I did she was looking my way this time. A mere glance on her part, but she directed a smile my way before looking to my brother again.

I'd like to say that was it, but I continued to steal glances of her as I worked alongside my mum, taking what I could get as I admired her from afar.

She looked stunning today, as she always did. Her long curls were left out, flowing over her shoulders and pretty green dress; I wasn't close enough to be able to tell, but I was sure that her dress complimented her eyes. A dark forest green colour with golden flecks, matching the deep green of her dress. Or so I assumed.

"They seem like they're getting on well," my mum said at one point, earning my attention. She was talking about Y/B/N and Wanda as she continued, "They make such a lovely couple."

I swallowed hard, nodding lamely. "They sure do, mum."

She gave me a sideways glance. "You know, your brother will be married soon and then it will be your turn."

I groaned quietly, knowing where this was going. There was no point trying to stop her because once she started, that was it.

"You can't just keep locking yourself in your room and writing stories," she was saying, but I attempted to tune her out which sometimes felt impossible since she had no off button and her shrill voice always managed to break through my bubble. "You have to find a husband. An actual person who you can marry and who can take care of you."

"I can take care of myself."

"Y/N, you know that's not what I mean..." but I stopped listening as she got started going on another ramble about the benefits of having a husband.

Instead, my eyes darted around the garden until they naturally gravitated towards Wanda. It was definitely the wrong time to get distracted by her though, since she seemed to be sucking some food off her thumb. As she did, her eyes found mine and she took that as her opportunity to wink in my direction playfully, hiding a smile as her thumb remained between her teeth. Y/B/N didn't seem to notice, as he was looking the other way, and I felt my cheeks heating up as I looked away quickly, remembering my dream.

She's going to marry your brother. She's going to marry your brother. She's going to marry your brother.

A stupid mantra that didn't work, but I attempted to drill it into my brain anyway.

"...and it would be nice to be able to do all the wedding stuff for you next time around," my mum continued to ramble, unaware of my flustered self.

The image of Wanda sucking her thumb was permanently engraved in my head and I struggled to wish it away. No more staring for today, I told myself, before getting lost in gardening again.

After ten more minutes of nonstop nattering about finding a husband for me, my mother excused herself to refill the watering can. I was grateful for her momentary absence, appreciating the silence and lack of guilt-tripping. Until I heard footsteps behind me shortly after, making me groan loudly.

"I'm not finding a husband right now!" I snapped, unable to take it any longer. But when I spun around to give her a piece of my mind, my mouth hung open like a fish out of water.

"I'd sure hope not," Wanda answered with a stifled laugh. "Then I'd have to share your company with somebody else."

Closing my mouth and standing up, I cleared my throat. "Sorry. I thought you were my mum."

She nodded, eyes roaming my whole body for a second, making me nervous under her stare. I hadn't actually seen her since my inappropriate dream and it was growing increasingly difficult to be so close to her without thinking about it.

"I figured. I just wanted to say hi," she said, expression softening as she met my eyes.

I was right about the dress bringing her eyes out more. A forest green colour, as I'd predicted.

"Hi," I said, giving her a small, nervous smile. "Erm, how is your date going?"

She shrugged, raising her hand to hold her forearm comfortably. "It's okay. It's wonderful out here, I'll give him that."

Relaxing into the conversation, my awkwardness fading already, I smiled in agreement. "Yeah, it is pretty."

A smirk appeared on her lips. "Yeah. So are the gardeners."

Admittedly, it took me a few seconds longer than it should have to realise she was talking about me. When I did, I felt a heat creeping up my neck and to my face and looked to the grass to distract myself. See, when she did stuff like that, it made me question a hell of a lot.

She chuckled. "So, gardening. Another dislike of yours?"

I shook my head, risking looking back up to her. "No, actually. I don't mind it. I'm just not a fan when it gives my mother an opportunity to discuss marriage."

Wanda's interested was piqued as she quirked a brow. "Oh? Your mother has suitors for you?"

I squeezed my eyes shut at the possibility, shaking my head. "I'd rather not ask, Wanda."

She let out a short laugh. "You've got time anyway. At least until Y/B/N and I are married."

I hoped she didn't see the involuntary wince I did at the mention of that. "Honestly, I'm not even thinking about that now... I'm nowhere near ready for that."

"Would you not want to get married?" she asked curiously, tilting her head to the side.

I sighed, looking around, unable to keep my eyes still. "I don't know, I guess? Eventually? But to somebody I love, not some arranged marriage just for the sake of it." My words sank in quite quickly and I straightened up, instantly looking to Wanda with apologetic eyes. "Bloody hell, that is not what I meant to say–"

"It's fine," she reassured me with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I get it. And, well, you're not wrong."

I smiled halfheartedly, the guilt at my previous words still present. I could honestly say that I wasn't aiming that comment at her, but I wouldn't blame her if she took it that way.

"It's important to fall in love with the person you marry," she said, gaze locked on mine. "You have to learn about them, who they are. Their likes, their dislikes. Their personality. If they have a sense of humour or if they're as dry as cardboard. If they're into you as much as you're into them."

Nodding slowly, I wasn't sure what to say. My mouth went dry the longer she watched me, eyes dancing with an emotion I couldn't recognise. Then her eyes fell to my lips and my knees began to shake subtly, wanting to give in because of how confused I was.

"Y/N, dear, don't dirty Wanda's dress with your muddy hands!" my mum called, breaking the strange silence that had built between the brunette and I.

Stepping back with realisation (and grateful for the interruption), I wiped my hands on my shirt subconsciously, making a further mess of my already mud-stained clothes. "Sorry."

When I looked up, Wanda was chewing on her lip, eyes doing a once over on me yet again. It was moments like this when I couldn't tell if she was teasing me or if she actually had an interest in me, maybe, like that.

"Wanda, honey, let's get you inside," my mum spoke, approaching the two of us and looking to her.

Nodding, Wanda glanced at me once more, shooting me a sweet smile, before being led away by my mum. I breathed out slowly, knowing it was wrong of me to feel this way about her. But it was hard not to fall for her when she had so much about her that was interesting.

Her passion for art, her teasing, playful attitude, her sense of humour... and then there were the physical aspects, like her beaming smile, her luxuriant brown hair and her entrancing hazel eyes. She was literally perfect and my brother was one lucky man. For once in my life, I was actually jealous of something he had that I didn't.

"Y/N!"

Speaking of the devil...

"Y/B/N, hey," I said with a smile as he approached me with an extra jump in his step. "What's up?"

Grin on his lips, he smacked my arm. "Did you see, Wanda? Didn't she look stunning?"

The guilt was cutting real deep. "She did."

"I think I'm in love," he gushed, eyes rolling backwards with delight. "She's perfect, Y/N, you don't get it."

"I can imagine...," I mumbled, but he barely noticed, too lovestruck to realise.

"Every date I've been on with her has been amazing," he continued. "If we weren't already engaged, I would've proposed!"

I raised my eyebrows with surprise, definitely not expecting this. He'd made his attraction to her known since the moment we'd met her, constantly talking about how gorgeous she was, but he'd never sounded happier than he did now.

"Mum adores her," he said with a content smile. "Dad would probably marry her if we was thirty years younger. And you–" He looked to me gratefully. "You're making an effort and I appreciate it."

Oh, God, the guilt was overwhelming.

"Everything is going perfectly," he finished with a sigh. "I just– I can't wait to marry her, Y/N."

I smiled for his sake, but my insides were shrivelling up and failing me. I was a horrible person, wasn't I? What kind of monster falls for her brother's fiancé? Me. I'm the monster. But not anymore. I couldn't let this get out of hand. I had to do better.

I promised myself I'd do better.

—

Doing better was going well, I'd like to think. I mean, it had only been two weeks, so I couldn't guarantee, but I was no longer having... thoughts... about the Maximoff in question.

Yes, there was that familiar inkling of jealousy tugging away in my stomach whenever Y/B/N would talk about her, but I think I was getting better at ignoring it. I had convinced myself that my feelings towards Wanda were not true but merely a schoolgirl crush (which I wasn't allowed to have, but still) and that I'd get over it after some time.

I'd liked, maybe two girls in my life before her. The first being when I was a child, about five, and a girl in my class did something different to her hair. If I remember correctly, she always had one ponytail that sat at the back of her neck, then one day, she came in with two braids down her head and it really wasn't a massive change, but five year old me developed a huge crush on her. That was when I learnt that a girl liking a girl was not only forbidden, but viewed as a sin.

The second girl I liked was in my Literature class in secondary school. She was probably the first person I'd fallen for in a way that was considered more than a simple crush. Something about her way with words was so attractive to me, as was the cute smile she'd send my way whenever she'd be my partner for an assignment. I never told her how I felt for she only ever treated me as a friend and the last thing I wanted was to bring shame to my family for liking girls.

Those instances, and the fact that I regularly found myself admiring women in a way I found incapable with men, made me realise I was different and I always would be. And so, the chatter about finding a husband and getting married always scared me because I was afraid that I'd be stuck in a place that I would never get to be myself in. Even though that was the reality of most women anyway.

So, in addition to the fact that it was wrong of me to like women (though it felt anything but) and that the woman I liked now was my brother's fiancé, I convinced myself it was just a mere crush I had on Wanda. She was a pretty girl with an attractive personality and that was it.

Or so I thought.

"Go get your brother, Y/N," my mum said one evening. "He's in his study. Dinner is almost ready."

I nodded and headed to my brother's study across the hall. He was sat at his desk, focusing on something specific that he was writing and barely acknowledging my presence. I glanced around the room, taking in the bookshelves filled with manuscripts, both published and unpublished, and notebooks of ideas piled on desks.

I wasn't jealous of this place, I really wasn't. And I wasn't jealous of my brother either, even when he got credit for things I'd written. I was just angry and hurt that I couldn't have the some privileges he got, such as his own personal study to write whatever he pleased.

"Dinner's almost ready," I called to him from the doorway. "C'mon."

He didn't turn around as he answered, "I'll be with you, one second."

Curious to what had captured his attention, I pushed myself from the doorway and approached his desk. He had a lamp turned on, the yellow light lighting the page he was scribbling on. I peeked over his shoulder and saw him pause from writing, stuck in thought. It gave me the chance to read some words and I tried not to laugh.

"Oh my god, is that a love letter?"

Surprised at my presence, he covered the page with his elbows and leaned on them, looking to me with red cheeks.

"What? No, that's... no," he stumbled out, shaking his head.

Stifled smile on my lips, I looked to him with humoured eyes. "You have to let me read it."

He shook his head frantically, trying to play it cool. "I don't think I can do that."

Well, now I was really curious.

"C'mon, I've read pretty much everything you've ever written," I told him, perching myself on the edge of his desk. "Just a little read and I'll drop it."

Pondering my words, he slowly began to straighten up, uncovering the page. With a sigh of submission, he nodded to it, wordlessly giving me permission to look. I grinned, grabbing the page and holding it to the light so I could read it.

It was mostly ramblings – unfinished sentences, phrases, clauses – but it was all about a certain someone, a love letter as I predicted. It talked about this person's body and lips and humour and fingers and because I was so caught up in teasing my brother, I failed to realise that I was reading about Wanda. At least until it mentioned her accent.

My smile faded when I saw the way he wrote about her, with such passion and ferocity and– he was seriously in love with her. And it may or may not have stung a little because everything he'd written was accurate and I felt the same way. Well, not the in love bit, but pretty much everything else.

"So? Is it bad?" he asked nervously, and I lowered the page to see he was waiting for a verdict. "It's messy, I know. I was just journaling and then it kind of happened."

"It's sweet," I told him truthfully, offering him a reassuring smile.

His shoulders relaxed as I put the page back on the desk before him. "Thank you, Y/N." He paused, before glancing up at me sheepishly. "Now that you're here, you may as well tell me if there's anything I can do to improve."

I raised my eyebrows. "Why? Are you planning on giving this to her?"

He shook his head instantly. "No, oh God, no. That would be severely humiliating. I just thought you could help me for me. You always make my writing better."

I snickered, shaking my head with amusement. Behind the scenes was where I thrived apparently.

"Quickly," I told him as he held out the paper to me. "Mum is waiting for us."

He nodded obediently and I took the paper from his grasp, getting another look at it. Skimming it with my eyes yet again, I found the first criticism and pointed to it so he could see.

"This bit here," I said gently. "You talk about her eyes and say they're magnetic."

"Is that not good?" he asked with a frown.

"It is, it is," I said politely, not wanting to offend him. "But that's all you've written. You want to give the reader a reason to believe you. Why are they magnetic? What about them do you find yourself attracted to?"

He nodded, seeming to get it. Leaning back in his seat, he had a think. I waited patiently, curious to what he would come up with, but then he sighed defeatedly and looked to me.

"What would you write?" he asked, and I smiled with disbelief. It always ended up like this. Me helping him, challenging him with a thought, then him ending up using what I say.

"Okay, let me think," I said, crossing my arms and staring ahead. "Wanda's eyes."

"Here," Y/B/N said, making a gesture to placing something invisible on my head. When I quirked a brow of confusion, he added, "It's your thinking cap."

I rolled my eyes but laughed quietly at his stupidity, then tried to think about what to describe Wanda's eyes as.

It wasn't difficult to imagine them despite having not seen them in a few days. They were always bright, animated, lively. Whether it was green, blue or brown, they were irresistible and as my brother wrote, they were magnetic.

I breathed out, speaking from the heart without thinking. "When Wanda Maximoff looks into your eyes it's like she holds all of the elements in a single gaze. At times, they're greener than the earth itself, captivating and tranquil and daring you to look away. But then they're also bluer than the brightest of skies and darkest of oceans, deep and and liberating and easy for you to get swallowed up in."

A smile fell on my lips at the thought. She truly was something.

I continued slowly, "In the light, you can make out golden flecks, like the first sliver of the sun in Spring. It's hopeful and guiding and fills you with warmth. But what isn't obvious upon first glance is how tempestuous they are, like air itself. She's got a passion behind her eyes that is scary at first, but when you get to know her, you realise that it's a storm worth raging."

It went quiet when I finished and I zoned back into reality, Wanda's eyes blinking away from my mind in an instant. I pursed my lips and looked to Y/B/N with mild concern, realising just how much I'd rambled. He raised his eyebrows with surprise, staring at me.

"Y/N, that was amazing! How did you think of that?" he asked in bewilderment.

I shrugged, feeling my face heat up with embarrassment. "I don't know. I just thought about a random set of hazel eyes and applied my thoughts to it."

He smiled, impressed. "Amazing. I love it."

Grabbing a pen, he began to write furiously on the page and I stood up, dusting myself off.

"You sure that's not going to her?" I asked, still feeling fuzzy from what I'd said and hoping she'd never see it.

"Very sure," he promised, not looking up. "It's just for me."

I studied him judgementally. "Okay, well, maybe get rid of that part about her breasts then. It's a little creepy."

He looked up to me with a boyish grin. "I'm only a man, Y/N. Can you blame me?"

I rolled my eyes, shuddering at what he was implying. The mere implication of a thought of him and Wanda... nope, I didn't want to go there.

"I'll see you at dinner," I said, pointing a thumb over my shoulder. "Try to hurry, yeah?"

"Yes, I'll be right with you," he assured me, his hand moving in a flurry as he wrote. "Just writing what you said so I don't forget. Could be good for a future book, who knows?"

I forced a smile, humming in agreement. "Right. Well, I'll see you at the table."

He nodded and I left his room, letting out a deep breath. Just another day in the Y/L/N household.

—

Popping into town for errands was surprisingly not a task I found boring. If anything, I preferred it, using it as a chance to get away from my mother's incessant marriage-related conversations and my father's constant praising for anything Y/B/N did. Nowadays, it was also a way to escape anything wedding-related, which was a plus.

This time, I was only nipping out to return a book to the library, but my mum caught me before leaving and asked me to deliver some letters to the post office since I was already heading that way. Happy to prolong this outing as much as possible, I accepted the errand and headed to the post office after returning my book.

When I was there, an advertisement caught my eye. A chalkboard outside the store displayed a deal the train station were doing. I probably would have ignored it if it weren't for the mention of Blackpool.

2 FOR 1 ON BLACKPOOL TRAIN TICKETS THIS WEEKEND

Remembering my conversation with Wanda, I realised I hadn't actually followed up with her on my promise of taking her there to paint. She probably didn't even remember, since it was a while ago when we spoke of it, but the idea of going there with her made me excited. Was it stupid to get the tickets? Probably. But did I go inside and get them? Of course.

It was only when I got home did I realise how silly it was. Would she even want to go? What if she made an excuse to get out of it? Oh, this whole thing was stupid. I was overthinking it. Friends went on day trips all the time, it's wasn't a big deal.

To my surprise, when I poked my head into the living room to tell my mum I'd posted her letters, Wanda was sat on the couch with her. They were drinking some tea and having scones, chatting away. I'd called my mum before noticing, so when they looked my way, I clumsily entered and straightened up to make myself look presentable.

"Sorry, I didn't know you had company," I apologised with an awkward smile, eyes flickering to a smiling Wanda before looking to my mum. "I just wanted to let you know that I dropped the letters off by the post office."

"Perfect, Y/N, thank you," she said in response, before looking to the setup before her. "You can join us if you'd like."

I was quick to smile gratefully, though shook my head. "It's okay, you guys enjoy. I'll just be in my room if you need me."

My mum shrugged, sipping her tea, and Wanda watched me with a small smile, nodding in greeting, before looking away. I licked my lips uncomfortably before backing out the room and heading upstairs.

I was working on yet another manuscript that wouldn't see the light of day at my desk when I heard a knock on my door about an hour later.

"Come in!" I called, not looking up.

The door opened and I finished my train of thought before turning around, surprised to see Wanda walking into my room.

"Oh, hi," I got out suddenly, words falling from my mouth without me thinking first.

She smiled softly, stopping before me. "Hey. I'm heading home now, but I just wanted to say goodbye."

I stared at her, forgetting how to speak because she was wearing a lovely floral dress that complimented her figure perfectly.

"Oh, and I thought you might like these," she added before forgetting, then held out a box towards me.

Recovering from my initial stupor, I reached out and accepted the box, realising they were chocolates.

"I got them for your mum, but she said she's not a fan of hazelnut," she explained, and I looked up to see her looking elsewhere with a nervous smile on her lips. "You don't have to have them of course. I can just... eat them myself."

An amused smile tugged at my lips as I quirked a brow. "You'd eat them all yourself?"

She was very much aware of how silly she sounded, but she was adamant on appearing confident, so she nodded with certainty. "Yes... apparently I would."

Lighthearted laughter escaped my lips as I set the box to the side. She was trying to stand her ground, but then she sighed and began to laugh, too. My heart fluttered in my chest at the sound and I appreciated the crinkle by her eyes when her smile widened.

"Thank you," I said, settling on a smile as I watched her with amusement.

She nodded, smile of her own still present, before pointing behind her. "I'll, erm, go now."

When she turned to leave, I felt inclined to say, "Wait!"

She paused, turning around patiently, and I knew there was no going back now. Standing up, I grabbed my purse from the side and pulled out the train tickets.

"When I was out today, I saw that the train station were doing this deal on tickets to Blackpool," I started, hoping she couldn't see my hands trembling slightly. "And I remembered that I promised to take you so you could see the water." I closed my eyes, praying that this wouldn't be a mistake, before opening them and looking to Wanda. "We can go, if you'd still like to."

She raised her eyebrows, eyes glued to the tickets in my hand. No words were being said and my heart thumped in my chest with the realisation that I may have done something insanely stupid. Before I could even think to apologise, a grin spread across her face and her dazzling blue eyes met mine, freezing me in place.

"Are you serious? Y/N, I'd love to!" she exclaimed, then proceeded to launch herself onto me, arms wrapping tightly around my neck.

I gulped as she did, not expecting that reaction, but returned the hug by folding my arms around her waist loosely. She smelt really good, which was probably wrong of me to note, and I enjoyed the feeling of her so close to me, also wrong of me to note.

"Okay, well, the tickets are for this weekend," I said, desperately trying not to stammer when she pulled away. "I can meet you at the station in the morning. Eight."

Her eyes danced with excitement as she accepted the ticket I held out to her. I reminded myself that this was just a friendly day trip and nothing more.

"Eight," she confirmed, attempting to stifle her eagerness by biting her lip and nodding.

I swallowed hard, trying ever-so-hard not to let my gaze drop to her lips. Because then I'd think about kissing her and that was definitely not what I should be thinking about my soon-to-be sister-in-law.

Oh, God, I was screwed.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine

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cryptiql · 3 years

Text

untitled god song

pairing: bakugou/m!reader (trans reader in mind you can see it if you squint but can also be read as cis)

words: 2k

warnings: themes of religious trauma, homophobia, mentions of blood, the author projecting their mommy issues

a/n: this is purely self indulgent, don't mind me 😩✋ (written in first person)

i wish i had known him before the pain started. perhaps it is a fools dream to think that his presence would have solved anything, and it is likely that he might blown me sky high at the time, if given the chance, but i often ponder his place in my narrative. he is nothing less than a king—nay, a god—and what else am i to be except his humble servant, adoring him in the only way i've been taught?

i would bruise my knees as i kneel for him, and should he turn me away, i shall be lost and without purpose. but he does not, and instead, he snorts out a laugh and pulls me to my feet, roughly squeezing my cheeks together with a shit-eating grin. he'll tell me a joke i've heard a thousand times, and yet i laugh with him anyways, the pads of my fingers idly tapping the pulse on his wrists.

"dumbass, at least take me out to dinner first."

i never thought i'd ache to hear such a demeaning nickname, but it's like birdsong to my ears, and i long for the myriad of butterflies it provokes.

i would heed his every word like a faithful disciple, and—if i knew he would not use this power for the wrong reasons—carry it out without question. he'll roll his eyes at the notion, far too prideful at the idea of being praised, and card hands through my hair, gripping softly. "right. and if i told you to go to bed before five in the morning, would you listen?"

my smiles are genuine, as they all are with him.

"no." i wish my mother had been more open-minded; more loving to those she claimed were goners. maybe then, i could still call her my mother, and not a snarled version of her first name steeped in vinegar. maybe she could have met him, and maybe she would have keeled over in the process, but that is how we put it "killing two birds with one stone".

he was a fallen angel if ever i saw one—emblazoned in smog and ravenous inferno, the pieces of child-like innocence turning to ash. something happened to him when he was a kid, just as all gifted children, and oh, what a fool i was to let my gaze dawdle on his gorgeous form. but i will never regret it—no, not ever—for there is no such feeling that can compare to his eyes on mine, burning with a mind-fogging intensity.

it was instantaneous, the moment my thoughts turned on me with malicious intent, her voice ringing out like a gunshot.

you'll never be him.

his hand slots with mine perfectly; deliciously warm and comforting in a way i haven't felt in years; and hauls me up, the flecks of dirt and rubble from the road clinging to my jeans.

"watch it, pretty boy. i won't always be here to save you, y'know."

my heart batters against my ribs like a caged bird, screeching and wailing to be set free, and i wonder in a haze if i've died. judgement day must have come early, i think, not realizing that it was spoken aloud until the blonde quirks a brow inquisitively. he does not speak on the matter, but continues on his merry way, leaving my helpless; hopelessly enamored; and praying that we will meet again.

no, i could never be him. but i am like him. he has a sureness in his walk and fervor in the way he talks that is only recognizable when i look in the mirror. and we do meet again. it is a shame, however, that i must burden him with the weight of my past. i remember too often the troubles of my youth, even when all has passed into fleeting memories that haunt me as ghosts do to an abandoned house. yet, i still live in this house, and the ghosts are here to keep me company.

i remember the church, first and foremost; nestled between the barren country road and the outback; a beacon of hope to all those who stood in its doors. the luster of freshly polished wood still sits in my mind, accompanied by the echoing remnants of dulcet tones and multicolored bands of light, glaring from the stained glass windows and dancing across the musty carpet floor. the doddering pews were just as uncomfortable as the poorly padded chairs squatting in the front row, but every sunday, they were filled to the brim with hungry worshippers. they sang praise as though they were starved, but i was too young to understand for what. i am older now, and i still don't understand. all i know is that despite its reputation, the church was a cursed place, and i should never set foot in it again lest i go mad. i remember the creaking stairs which lead downstairs, and the winding halls that reeked of torment where shadows loomed. the paint was corroding and foul, and my conscious always loitered too long on the merlot stain on the ceiling; its origin unknown, but nevertheless urging my stomach to twist with nausea.

i remember the feeling of tall grass grazing my ankles; itching horribly from the old moth-eaten socks i was forced to wear. it had become second nature—running and hiding from my problems, from the church, from her. i shall never know a greater animosity than the likes that my mother encouraged, although unintentionally, with her pressuring views and sickeningly sweet smile. it's fake, and i would know, because ours are the same.

we are too similar, and i am sickened by the fact. will i become the wretched woman she is? will i fail to be the father i've dreamt of being? it is an easy thing to fall prey to haunting questions, and it serves as brain rot for every moment of silence that leaves me clawing at my skin, trying to reap the memory of her touch. then i began to think—about nothing and everything—and it does not stop. i will be kind; unforgivingly so, and without biased judgement; like my mother never was, and i'll make her hate me for it. i will grow in leaps and bounds, not for her sake or for god's, but for mine, as it always should have been. i will drink and curse with reckless abandon and kiss who i damn well please, because in no life does she have have the power to make me something i'm not. why should i feel sorry when the tears she wept were forged by my own blood; by the childhood memories locked away to rot in my subconscious? yes, she has suffered too, but it is through clenched teeth and raw-bitten lips that i must confess this, for her suffering was born in me and grew from a seedling into a thorned flower, nourished by her hatred and mine. she'll tell me the lie of all mothers before her: that she knows best, and i'll never know joy that is not from my savior's gracious hands.

one day, when she lies not with words but in silence, under worm-filled earth and withering pastures, i'll tell her that she was right. i'll tell her, with his hand in mine, that my savior arrived with hellfire in his eyes and fury unrelenting. his tongue holds venom that would make the devil blush, but he tastes of a sinful sweetness that i've drowned in more times than i care to count.

mother you should know, my god is like no other. he has a broad chest and muscles, i attest, that are sculpted like fine marble and smooth to the test.

my god is a man who loves other men, unashamedly; in all that is true; and kisses me like real people do. and i know it sounds silly, and a bit cliché, and he'd surely make a mockery of me if ever he heard, but i love him. i love him as passionately as you she does lord above, and it is a crime in itself how much i crave him, so yes, i will burn for this—not because my mother said so or by the ancient script that foretells it, but because i promise it. i promise to let neither hell or high water deter me from that which gives me life, and i'll do so with a ring.

"you hear that mom?" i'll whisper in the dead of night, his body flushed against mine in the most delightful way; his fingers curled into my nightshirt, pulling me closer as listless mumbles fall from his parted lips. he is dead to the world amid his dream ridden stupor, but still leans into my touch when i smooth back the wild tufts of hair to kiss his forehead.

"i'm gonna marry him." part of me wishes she didn't live on the other side of the planet, just so i could rub it in her face, but i won't give her the satisfaction of seeing me again. i won't let her think she's won, because i know, and katsuki knows, that he and i are one in the same.

i do not know who i should thank for my stubbornness, be it my mother or my father, so i will thank the pain they both caused me, for it made me stronger than they ever could. no, i did not become a better person, because the scars have yet to heal from how deep they cut, and the smell of blood still lingers, and i am angrier than i once was, but i cherish my wounds. the stench of my agony has long since been subdued, and i have learned to swallow the sickness it evokes. and yes, this anger is unhealthy and i've chosen not to purge it from my mind like the weed it is, but how lucky am i to have found one whose malice rivals my own?

the tales of his glory have littered my notebooks in smudged ink. you would hate him, is scrawled messily on the last page, but i only feel giddy with excitement. you would hate him for his spite and his unapologetic behavior, and that is why he's perfect. he's everything you hate about this world, but everything i love.

so when she gets to heaven and asks the angels "why?", they'll tell her it was him who made the devil cry. him, who held me like she should have—could have, if she hadn't terrified me—and who chased the nightmarish visions of her from my weary mind with his callous palms and soft-spoken reassurances. i wish i had known him when we were young; when things were not so simple and i needed a hand to hold; but i suppose we'll have to settle for faded photographs and stories told through the bitter aroma of alcohol. that's more than enough, i muse to myself, legs hooked over his as i rest my head on his shoulder, keening softly at the gentle scrape of his nails on my scalp. his arms wind around my waist as he mutters something along the lines of "i love you", his lips curling into a smile, illuminated by the televisions glow.

so when they ask of my religion, i will think of only him. i will recall the way he looks at me, the sound of my name on his tongue, the feeling of his lips trailing between the valley of my breast; featherlight, cautious and unfitting for a man of his nature. i've written songs of praise, all dedicated to him, and if only he knew, oh how smug he would be. but i love him, i love him, i love him. and when he spins me around like a marionette, it is with overwhelming pride and joy that i tell him this, and with rose hued cheeks and bashful grumbles, he tells me the same. so mother, wherever you are, i hope you know i've found my god.

#💥.katsuki #bakugou x trans reader #bakugou x trans male reader #bakugou x male reader #katsuki bakugou x male reader #male reader insert #mha x male reader #boku no hero x reader #bakugou x you #trans reader

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jenomark · 3 years

Note

Can i request how you see them as artist ?

Like who like solo/ group activities, or creative with no giving up on their ideas , or who just follows , and what kind of environment they prefer , or who can get stressed easily from pressure of work if something isn't right or their way of doing things ?

Like artistic soul , how free or cooperative or giving up ?

Sorry if i'm asking to much, i hope you get what i'm saying, i appreciate your blog a lot ♥️♥️

These are only my opinions ~

Taeil: He deserves a solo project (!!!!), but I think he's happiest being in a team. I can't see him ever liking being a solo artist full-time. Though music is a passion, I think the great allure of being an idol is doing it with people he loves. Not stressed easily (most of the time), because he really trusts his team.

Johnny: Personally, I think he's a lot happier than he was before, a lot more confident and really looking forward to his future with music. I do think he wants solo opportunities, and I really would LOVE to see him pursue that. I expect he misses being a part of something he could mostly call just his.

Taeyong: Extremely hard worker. Never feels fully satisfied. I think he's really good at what he does. His creativity never stops and it's always changing the way it shows itself to the world . It's not just music he's creative about. I would like to see a solo mixtape. I think it's in his future.

Yuta: He loves music. I see him as someone who has always had it in him to be musical. His singing voice is beautiful. I'm really appreciative of SM giving him a spot in 'From Home'. I would like to see more of that, and I think he would too. I don't think he's someone that will give up on himself, which makes me happy.

Kun: He isn't given as much opportunity as he should be given. He feels like he's practically begging to be a producer. Not that WayV needs help, but I think Kun being involved will only mean success. He's good at working alone. He's really good at knowing what people want to hear. He's very particular about his work too.

Doyoung: He's happy as he is. He has to be really content, musically. He's definitely more of a follower, in my opinion. He'll do whatever the company wants him to do. I think he does have his own thoughts and opinions about work but is less likely to speak up.

Ten: He would do well solo. He's someone that can definitely stand on his own and gain a lot of attention. Though he works in a team (and is content), I think he's aware of how solo projects benefit him and suit him. He knows himself better than anyone else.

Jaehyun: Isn't reaching his full potential. I think he's more of a leader than people (and himself) give him credit for. He knows what he wants but isn't likely to reach out for it unless he feels he can't fail. I do see him working as a loner. I also see him as someone who worries a lot about his future.

WinWin: Stresses very easily and feels he works twice as hard. I always see him as someone who appears carefree, but I think he's burning with passion deep inside. Solo activity scares him but he wants to try it so badly. Loves his members. Loves his members so much and can't imagine a future without them.

Jungwoo: Constantly challenges himself. He's someone who vibes off of others. His team lifts him up and really keeps him going. I can't see him doing singing solo work as a career, but I definitely think MC-ing on music shows was a perfect choice for him. It's the right kind of pressure for him that will help him grow.

Lucas: As an artist, I see him as someone who isn't as confident in himself. I think he takes baby steps towards his goals. I think he's very scared and intimidated by what he considers "bigger" and "better" music. He's happiest when the pressure isn't solely on him. He's the type to collab and feel excited about it.

Mark: For this ask, Mark is probably the easiest to read. Hard worker who never takes enough time for himself, but it's what he's most comfortable with doing. He would be bored if he stopped working. He would suffer, in a way. I see him as a very creative person who is doing music genres that aren't his main interest. Has a lot of weight on his shoulders.

Xiaojun: He's a supporter. As an artist, I think he's pretty solid in his confidence. He's there to lift others up. He's there to have fun. He wants it all to mean something, so he does have his moments where he might not feel fully satisfied, but he's always the type to excitedly think about every aspect of music.

Hendery: Needs to speak up more. Musically, he needs more of a voice. I want him to let his creativity bloom. I see him as someone who feels like he needs his team by his side to succeed. Needs to believe in himself more.

Renjun: Has so many ideas but not enough time. He wants to collab. He wants to cover songs. He plays around with making his own songs with other people, but I don't think any of that comes to the surface often. Music is a part of him. He'll do it until the day he dies.

Jeno: I feel that he feels happiest when he is doing group activities. He wants to keep being active. Dream not having a comeback probably makes him really stagnant artistically. He misses the glory times. He loves music but he does have other loves in his life to pass the time.

Haechan: He's a fantastic artist. Whether they love him or hate him, he gets people talking. His sound is unique. His work ethic is great. He's fun and personable. He's the entire package, to be honest. I do sense self-doubt sometimes but he'll never allow himself to even think about giving up. He was born to do this.

Jaemin: I see him being curious about a lot of things. Wonders what it would be like to work alone, but it's not something he's in a hurry to do. Loves his team. Is grateful to be a part of something. I do think he's creative but keeps a lot of it to himself. Like Taeyong, his creativity pours out into other aspects of his life.

YangYang: He feels like a writer, like a true writer. He's too stubborn to be a follower. I see him as someone with a lot of really fresh ideas. I hope people are listening to him. I think he's on his way to doing something really big and surprising.

Shotaro: He has the greed for music and dance. I think he'll go far based on that hunger for it. I don't think he has his artist' image quite planned out yet, because he's just starting to figure out who he is.

Sungchan: Very shy. Feels like he works on things alone in his room, things that will never see the light of day. Doesn't feel like he has his own voice, or deserves it quite yet. He's someone who learns quickly, especially from his team members.

Chenle: Tries not to let stress interfere with the music. I think he's good at it too. Could do solo but chooses to be in a team. I think he's similar to Taeil in this respect. He's just really happy to be involved with everyone. The process is fun for him.

Jisung: He does have an artistic soul. I would like him to try writing more. I would like to see him extend himself far into what makes him scared, because I know it would create something genius. He loves working with his team and learning from people more experienced. I see him mostly as an artist who can only keep growing.

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airis-paris14 · 3 years

Text

Wonder What She Thinks Epilogue

Summary: She learns to put herself first and he loses the best thing he ever had.

A/N: A new chapter of Starlight coming up next.

Warnings: None

Masterlist

It's Never Wrong When You're In Love...

I haven’t felt this type of thing in a while. I thought I lost myself in love until I found you.

- “Natural” Sabrina Claudio

I’m telling you right now from this day on, I’ve already weighed out the pros and cons, your just the woman I want.”

-"4evermore" Anthony David (ft. Algebra)

“Mrs. Jordan,” Michael leaned over and whispered in his bride’s ear. “Yes, Mr. Jordan?” Zoe beamed as she and her new husband waited for their cue to walk into the reception party. “You look absolutely breathtaking today. Coming down that aisle I was watching you like hot damn that’s my lady,” Michael grinned as Zoe slapped his arm, laughter falling from her lips. “Shut up, you were crying too,” the bride reminded, allowing Michael to wrap his arm around her waist.

“Yeah but that was the internal monologue,” he insisted as one of the tech workers handed each of them a microphone. The intro to “4evermore” by Anthony David began to blare on the other side of the banquet hall doors. “You ready?”

Zoe nodded and took her husband's hand. The doors opened on cue and the couple walked in belting their respective parts of the song.

“Forever’s a mighty long time but I really wanna spend it with you. I shine when you shine. There's really no substitute. 4evermore,”

The two danced around each other singing along with the track. The audience joined in clapping as the newlyweds continued their performance. “I’m making my plans just to be with you. It’s you and me, babe, till the days are through, And I ain’t ashamed, love, to say I do,” Michael crooned

They went through the chorus again before Zoe got her chance to shine, consequently surprising the guests who’d never heard her sing, “Pick a tree to carve our names, let the world know it’s not a game. Last longer than a wedding ring, generations tattooed with the love we bring. From the seeds we sow, to the time it takes to grow. Long enough to show you, I won’t let go of you. Without you, I'm incomplete, like this love song without this beat. I’m saying you are the man I need,” Zoe sang causing the crowd to erupt in cheers.

“I didn’t know Zoe could sing,” Shuri leaned over to her brother who was carrying both of his children in his arms. “She doesn’t often, but she’s great,” he nodded, trying to stop the regret flooding through his veins by bouncing his fussy two, almost, three-year-olds. He watched as their mother spun and sang with her husband. A man that wasn’t him. A man who was making her laugh and having fun on the dance floor as Camden started the rap verse in the song. His attention was then pulled to Nakia, as she laughed and danced on the sidelines of the dance floor cheering on Zoe and Michael with the rest of the bridesmaids and groomsmen.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, give it up for the new Mr. And Mrs. Michael B. Jordan. That was the best wedding entrance I’ve ever seen,” the DJ announced as the crowd began settling back in their seats. Zoe-Iman laughed as Michael handed over their mics and pulled her in close for their first dance. “I’m serious, who giving the new Mrs. Jordan a record deal, cause sis got some mad pipes. I know all this money in here, there’s gotta be a music exec looking for fresh talent. But, imma get off my soapbox so this new union can enjoy their first dance as husband and wife.”

Soon, “Butterflies Pt.2” by Queen Naija was drifting from the speakers as Michael gently swayed with his new wife, the couple singing along softly to each other. “You going to ask Nakia to dance?” Shuri caught her brother’s attention as she grabbed her niece from his arms. Not wanting to be left behind, Meluzmi began wriggling from his father’s arms to get down to the floor with his sister. “I don’t think Nakia wants to talk to me.” The king glanced again at his ex-wife dancing with Camden. “Nonsense, you all were friends first,” Ramonda interrupted, stooping to kiss both of her grandchildren. “That is why your father, and hers, thought you would make a great match.”

“You all are running the country well together, for over a year now.” Shuri pointed out smiling as the toddlers began bopping along to the song with each other. “Business conversations do not mean she will want to dance with me. Besides, she seems like she is having a good time with Camden.”

Shuri shook her head, “I’m taking the twins to dance, Mama, do something with him please,” the now 19-year old shook her head and headed towards the floor as the song shifted, signaling that other couples could join the wedding party on the floor. “Dance with me,” Ramonda extended a hand and the son turned king accepted and escorted her onto the floor.

“You know,” the queen mother started a few seconds later, “the first time you brought Zoe home, I was sure that within a year or two, you’d be telling your father you wanted to marry her.”

T’Challa smiled, “I was that obvious?”

Ramonda chuckled, “Painfully. You were looking at her like a lovesick fool the whole time she was there. Your father tried several times to give you his permission to date him. Even blatantly asking if you all were dating, but you were so stubborn.”

T’Challa looked away and swallowed, “It was not my finest hour and it will forever remain one of my biggest regrets, but I am happy for her.”

“You are, but you are also jealous. Zoe gave you plenty of chances, she even bore your children T’Challa but you were so stubborn, you lost your chance. Now that she’s happy, you should try to find happiness of your own. If not with Nakia, try again with someone. Don’t spend your life believing these were the only two women who could ever have been a great wife. Zoe found her happiness, Nakia is working on hers, it’s time you find your own.”

“Umama-” the king started. “Happiness outside of your children T’Challa, you need adult company too. Company you actually like, the elders don’t count.”

The king sighed and glanced across the room, “I’d like to try again, but I fear I will always wonder what Nakia and Zoe think of her.”

“That is your problem, you always wonder what everyone else is thinking, son.”

“You loved Zoe, but you were so afraid that we would hate her, you hid her and lost her. You had feelings for Nakia, but you wondered what she would think about what you had done to Zoe, so you pushed her away. Stop wondering what one girl will think about the other. Find your happiness, then bring her around. You always attract wonderful people, and we all always love each other. Think about it son, who else’s ex-wife is good friends with the woman her husband was cheating and had children with?”

Ramonda laughed, watching Zoe and Nakia dance with the rest of the wedding party. The king joined in chuckling as his mother continued, “Stop pitting the women against each other before they can even meet. Just let yourself fall in love freely son. We just want you to be happy.”

Zoe instinctively held her head further back as a smirk crossed her new husband’s lips. “Now, Michael, this is a very expensive white dress-”

“And you look beautiful baby-,” he raised his hand with a piece of cake in it closer to Zoe’s face. “Michael,” Zoe whined as his smirk turned into a full-on grin, “What? I’m just trying to feed my beautiful wife.”

“No, you are not!” Zoe laughed and dodged Michael’s hand, “I don’t wanna ruin my makeup, I paid a lot for it,” the bride pouted. “Fine,” the groom sighed, “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Thank you,” Zoe beamed and allowed him to feed her the piece of cake, she leaned in, kissed his lips, and smashed the piece of cake and icing onto his face, “Gotcha,” she cackled as Michael wiped icing from his mouth. The guests doubled over in laughter as he wrapped a giggling Zoe up in his arms and shook her. “You play dirty,” he laughed. “Mama!” two voices cried out as Ka’aulani and Meluzmi ran to their mom and stepfather. “Cake,” Meluzmi pleaded and his twin nodded her head in agreement. “Okay baby, “Zoe smiled. Michael cut them two small pieces and handed Zoe a plate. The caterers took over cutting up the rest of the large cake for the couple as they led their children over to the main table.

Michael took his self-proclaimed best friend Meluzmi in his lap and let him try and figure out how to spear the soft pieces of dessert, before eventually helping him out. Not wanting her daughter to ruin her dress or hair, Zoe still couldn't understand how so much of the toddler’s meals ended up in her curls, the mother alternated between feeding the toddler and herself. The small family sat sharing cake in silence, bobbing softly to the beat of Kiss Me More while watching their guests tear it up on the dance floor and fight over pieces of cake. “There you two are!” Shuri sighed obviously frustrated, “ T’Challa is gonna kill me, he wanted me to keep them so you could enjoy yourself.”

“Girl,” Zoe dismissed. “He will be fine. My babies just wanted some cake and their mommy.”

On cue, the twins giggled. “Are you having fun?”

Shuri shrugged, I’m just glad to see you happy,” The teen admitted. “Yeah but you’re young, you should be out dancing, and not with two-year-olds.”

“I got a cousin, he’s 20, but I think y’all get along great,” Michael grinned and called the boy over. As predicted he and Shuri hit it off and as the party forged ahead, the couple saw the two dancing and shared a fist bump. “We’re definitely the matchmaking couple,” Zoe beamed.

As the party began to wind down hours later, T’Challa approached the couple for the second time that day and cleared his throat. “My mother and I were about to leave, I was gonna take the twins,” the king gestured towards the children sleeping peacefully, each spread over two chairs pushed together. “Oh okay, thank you for coming and babysitting,” Zoe Iman Jordan hugged her former best friend, ex-lover, and the father of her children, “I’m gonna go say goodnight to mama,” she squeezed Michael’s hand before leaving in search of the older matriarch. “I’ll help you grab the kids, '' Michael broke the silence.

T’Challa nodded and they grabbed the slobbering children from their makeshift beds and headed out of the venue to the cars. Once both twins were buckled, they leaned against the car awaiting the women’s arrival. “Michael thank you.”

“For what?” The actor turned to the monarch. “For loving Zoe and for bringing the light back to her life. For taking care of her and loving my children as your own, even when I wasn’t man enough to do the same.”

Michael nodded, “You know for the longest I hated you. I didn’t understand how one man could be so self-involved he couldn’t see how amazing of a woman he had right in his hand. I hated that you messed with Zoe’s head, made her second guess herself. Then I finally got her to a good place, she opened up, we were having a good time, then she found out she was pregnant. You wouldn’t even text her back about your own kids.” T’Challa nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, “If I could do it all again, I would do it differently believe me.”

I know,” the groom agreed, “but everything happens for a reason. I don’t approve of what you did, but if you had been a good partner, I probably wouldn’t be married to the love of my life right now. So I forgive you. And those kids, they are like my own. I am beyond glad that you’ve stepped up for them. I want them to have their father and a bonus father in their lives. You stay involved and love them, then there are no hard feelings between us.” The acclaimed actor extended a hand and T’Challa accepted his handshake. “You have my word, I’m never leaving them again.”

“Good.” Michael leaned back against the car and crossed his legs, hands stuffed in his tuxedo pockets. “So what’s next for you?” He asked a few beats later.

T’Challa exhaled, “I’m not sure, but I do know I wanna get my life back on track. Find someone and treat her right.”

“Then you do that man,” they stood up off of the car as Ramonda approached. “I just wonder what she’ll think of this family. It’s all a little bizarre isn’t it?”

“Yeah most baby mamas and ex-wives aren’t best friends, especially under our circumstances, but if she loves you and you love her, there’ll always be room in the family.”

“I appreciate that Michael.”

“Shuri staying with Nakia?” The actor asked when the queen mother reached the car. “Yes, she and your cousin have taken quite a liking to each other,” Ramonda raised an eyebrow. “You know me and Zoe will watch out for her,” Michael reassured. “I know, that is the only reason I’m letting her stay,” Ramonda answered.

“We’ll get her back to you safely later tonight. I promise,” The actor shoved his hands in his pocket and stepped back. “I guess we better get going then-”

“Wait,” Zoe walked out of the venue over to the car. “I didn’t get to kiss my babies goodbye,” the mother pouted. Michael laughed as T’Challa rolled his eyes. “Boy, don’t roll your eyes at me before they get stuck like that.” She slapped his chest before opening the car doors and kissing both of her toddlers.”

“Okay, we will swing by to pick them up after we get back. And you have everything packed for them right? You have Meluzmi’s inhaler, and enough clothes and replacement outfits? You got the earplugs too right? They hate heights and the sounds of the plane's engines when-”

“Zoe they will be fine. T’Challa reassured. “And if I don’t have it, you know my mother will make sure they get it. They will be fine. I can do this,” The king grabbed both of her hands and squeezed them gently. “I know, I know,” the young mother sighed, “This is just the longest I have been away from them ever and I’m nervous.” Michael moved up to wrap an arm around his wife’s waist and press a kiss to her forehead. “ Everything will be fine,” he soothed. “I know-”

“Then stop worrying,” T’Challa offered a sad smile, “You deserve this, to be happy, to have a break, to enjoy your honeymoon. You are an excellent mother Zoe, but they have a father too. So enjoy your break, enjoy your marriage. I promise they will be just as alive and happy as they are now when you get back from your trip.”

Zoe nodded and sighed, finally stepping back from the car with Michael at her side. “Okay, see you in three weeks. Thank you all again.”

“Anytime, you know I love my grandbabies.” Ramonda hugged the bride once more before closing the door facing the twins and taking a seat in the backseat next to them. “Ayy, Mike, it’s almost time for the garter toss,” Two of the groomsmen waved the couple over but T’Challa reached for Zoe’s hand. “Can we talk?”

Zoe nodded at her husband letting him know she was okay, he looked the king over once more before heading inside to watch from the doorway. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted you to know that you were right.”

“About what?” the bride squinted. “About deserving to be with someone who can say they love you in and out of the bedroom. You deserve someone who loves you out loud, and I’m glad you found it in Michael.”

Zoe smiled softly, “Thank you. I hope you find the same for yourself. We both deserve someone.”

“I think I already did but I kind of fucked it up...twice,” the king chuckled. “I’ll keep you updated on that front though.”

Zoe Iman nodded. T’Challa gestured to the doorway, “I think you better go though, your husband hasn’t stopped watching.” Zoe laughed, glancing over her shoulder at Michael who was, sure enough, watching from the door. “Yeah... Goodbye T’Challa.” Zoe pulled the king in for a hug before placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Goodbye, Zoe… I love you,” he sighed once she had walked off out of earshot.

Taglist: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @derangedcupcake @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @faatassbitch @lady-love-and-glitter-roses @cxnismajcr @tchallasbabymama

#t'challa #tchalla black panther #black panther #shuri black panther #black panther imagines #black panther au #black panther fanfic #blackpantherimagines #black panther fanfiction #t'challa x black! reader #nakia x t'challa #t'challa imagine #t'challa x you #t'challa x black!reader #t'challa x oc #t'challa x reader #apbpfics #wwstfic #wwstfics

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liibrii · 3 years

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Like so many times before

Kita Shinsuke x gn!reader

Synopsis: You chase him, through lifetimes and lives never fully lived, you chase after him but he always remains out of reach.

Genre: angst; sort of but not really kind of Soulmate au || wc: 0.9

Warnings: death, blood, violence, major character death

You run the fastest your legs can carry you but like so many times before, it isn't enough.

Crowded streets block your path, you try pushing through but closer to the harbour you get the more people appear. It's almost as if the entire country has gathered to wave the ship goodbye.

Pushing forward exhausts your every sense, you can't see through the crowd, smell of sweat and dust fills your nose, you drown in the cheering, shouting crowd. You're all but ready to give up.

Like so many times before you wonder what even is the point.

It matters, he matters, you remind yourself, always forward. Always forward.

Crowd hides you from his eyes, no matter how loud you shout and wave, what are you but a drop in the ocean stealing him away?

Like so many times before you don't get to say goodbye.

In your next life you grow up with stories of kitsune hiding in the shadows. Never walk alone after dark your father orders you. Never leave the shrine without an offering your grandmother teaches you.

Sometimes you think you catch glimpses of glowing eyes in the dead of night, sometimes you think you hear someone calling out your name. Something dances at the edge of your mind, someone you can't quite remember... Sometimes you wonder why the path always brings you to the shrine up the hill. Sometimes you wonder why nothing seems to fill the empty void where your heart is supposed to be.

The day you find him by the shrine basking in the sun is the day you remember. He doesn't bother to hid his ears or tail from you. Perhaps he knows.

After night falls he holds you close. His arms are your refuge and his lips are summer breeze caressing your skin. Like so many times before you dare dream this time, this time you'll manage to hold on.

Then the hunters come.

You run the fastest your legs can carry you but like so many times before, it isn't enough.

There's blood. Seeping through his clothes. Painting your trembling hands. Clinging to tips of his hair. Tears wash it from his face as he breathes his last.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,“ you keep repeating as you weep, “It's all my fault, all of it is my fault...“

He can't speak but this eyes tell you, you'll find me again, we'll be together, it's not your fault. How could it be?

Sobbing and screaming they drag you away from his lifeless body.

But it is your fault. You're the one who asked for eternity.

You have learned not to hope and you have learned not to trust.

He sleeps beside you, he's real and he's warm and he makes you wonder if it's all just a cruel trick fate is playing on you. After all it is all to good to be true.

Hand in hand you walk through fields, like you have done so many summers before, when your hands where still young and skin silk. You cling to his touch, eyes always glancing over your shoulder.

Like so many times before you wonder where fate will strike from next.

It's time that takes him. Old age catching up while you're searching for those hiding in the shadows, stealing him away while you aren't paying attention.

The solace and silence of a forests are all the company you can bear. Your heart lies shattered in pieces and you're too tired to even try putting it back together. What's memory, what is now and what was, all crashes down on you. What was yesterday is the same as what is today. What difference does it all make anyway?

He wanders into the forest the day dark clouds gather. He's a child still, stars are in his eyes and his face glows in carefree glee.

“I know ya,“ he says.

It is always children who remember.

His fingers wrap around your hand. Small. Warm. Waiting for the world to break them. He jumps to catch the snowflakes falling from the clouds above and when his voice echoes between sleeping trees you wonder if this is the one time you heal.

As first spring flowers shyly start to open towards the sun you walk through the forest, alone. They bloom, they grow and they bloom, and they crown a small grave.

As if they knew they were your favourite. Did he tell them?

After all, soul he carried used to be yours.

He stands in the fields of swaying golden rice. He looks content, you think, he looks happy.

Your heart clenches and tears gather in your eyes. Every part of your soul aches for him but you know it will only hurt more if you reach out. It always does.

He looks into your direction and you wonder if he remembers you. If he knows your paths have crossed in every lifetime.

This time you let him go. You know you have to.

He calls out for you. He calls your name. He runs after you, he runs the fastest his legs can carry him and doesn't stop till he catches up.

Small, your voice is so small, threatening to break under the weight of the words. “You remember my name.“

You chase him, through lifetimes and lives never fully lived, you chase after him but he always remains out of reach.

But maybe... Maybe this time you'll manage to hold on.

#kita shinsuke x reader #kita x reader #kita shinsuke x y/n #kita imagine #hqcorenet #kita shinsuke #hq #haikyuu #inarizaki x reader #inarizaki x y/n #this has been sitting in my drafts for too long #might do some minor edits later on #libri scribbles

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1dfangirls35 · 3 years

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The Language of Your Soul

An enemies to lovers ballet au in 5 acts

Masterlist // Tell Me What You Think

Banner: @booksncoffee

Act II

Sorry for the intermission guys but I’m back!

Warnings: This story (and chapter) will contain language, mentions of emotional abuse from a parent and eating disorders. Please read at your own discretion.

Eight Weeks Until Opening Night

Giselle's left hand grips the cool metal of the bar, her legs shaking uncontrollably beneath her -a result no doubt, of her five mile run this morning before rehearsals. Maybe that hadn't been the best idea after all.

Giselle hears Teagan enter the studio after her, announcing her entrance with the loud thud of her duffle bag hitting the floor. Giselle watches as Teagan grabs her pointe shoes out of the bag, taking a seat on the floor a few feet away from Giselle.

Giselle hates that Teagan has to be here, taking part in Giselle's solo rehearsals. The role of Odette was challenging enough- a true feat of technical perfection and stamina. She didn't need Teagan, the person who could snatch her dream role out from under her with just a few missteps, to watch her struggle through her early rehearsals. It makes Giselle feel like she is the prey, and Teagan is lurking in the shadows simply waiting for a moment of weakness to swoop in and swallow her up.

"How are rehearsals with Harry going?" Teagan asks, breaking the silence.

"Fine," Giselle responds shortly. But rehearsals are not going fine. They are an all-out disaster.

In the week and a half since the cast list had been announced, Giselle and Harry had yet to practice beyond their scheduled company rehearsals and it was showing. Giselle had tried on numerous occasions to suggest they work on the basics on their own but Harry had pushed it aside saying, "You've just got to know the choreography better." Giselle left every rehearsal feeling like a complete and utter failure- unworthy of dancing with the likes of Harry Styles.

"A dancer like that can make anyone look good," Teagan says with a tone that implies that Giselle needs some help "looking good". Giselle ignores the comment, instead, mentally running through the choreography for the Act II variation.

Anna Elliot interrupts Giselle's mental rehearsal as she enters the room. It's strange to see Anna in a black tracksuit instead of a leotard and tights, her dark black hair falling around her shoulders instead of pulled back into its usually neat bun. Her face looks tired; her usual bright smile absent. Giselle supposes it can't be easy for her to be on the other side of the stage, leading the rehearsal instead of dancing it.

"Ladies," she announces. "We are going to run through the Act II variation today. Giselle, you'll go first."

Giselle nods, pulling up the waistband of her white practice tutu as she positions herself upstage center in the studio. She tries to ignore Teagan's narrow eyes staring at her as the pianist begins to play.

As she dances Giselle thinks through each and every movement. Smooth développé, lifted attitude, airy bourrées. When she finishes her chaîné turns at the end of the variation, she exhales deeply- not realizing how much she had been holding her breath.

She looks towards Anna for approval. "Nicely done Giselle. Now I'd like you to work on those chaînés at the end. Really make sure they are tight and quick."

Giselle nods in understanding.

"But overall, beautiful execution of the choreography. We really just need to fine tune."

Giselle smiles smugly, glancing at Teagan who stands with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Teagan," Anna announces, gesturing for the understudy to take her stab at the variation. Giselle watches as Teagan runs the variation, but mentally she's thinking about all the things she could have done better in her own.

"Well done, Teagan. Now your attitudes were a little sloppy, let's work on really lengthening that back leg and lifting your chest okay?" Teagan nods. "But I loved the emotion that you put into your dancing. Giselle?" Anna calls, grabbing her attention. "Did you notice the emotion that Teagan puts into her movements? It's something that I'd like you to work on incorporating into your variation. The audience needs to feel what Odette is feeling through you. Let's do it from the top."

Giselle runs the routine again. She tries to 'portray the emotion' like Anna wants, but instead her heads caught up in executing her turns and keeping her arms sharp. When she ends the variation, Anna looks over at her with disappointed eyes. "More" is all she says.

Giselle runs it again. And another time. And each time, Anna tells her it is not enough. That Giselle needs to embrace being Odette. That the audience needs to understand the pain of her being trapped in this body of a swan with no escape.

"Teagan, why don't you run again. Giselle pay close attention this time."

Giselle feels her frustration grow as she watches Teagan again. Teagan's movements are still sloppy, and she messes up the step-over turns at the end, but when she finishes Anna looks over at Giselle like they've just watched the most magnificent performance. "That is the emotion I need to see Giselle."

Anna looks down at her watch. "Well I think our rehearsal time is up for today. Keep working on that emotion Giselle, its a very important part of this ballet."

Giselle nods and smiles, but inside her guts are wrenching at the thought of this rehearsal getting back to her mother. She has to do better. She must.

******

If Harry had learned one thing in his time as a professional ballet dancer, it was that relationships and commitments were the hidden poison of a professional dancer's career. He'd watched many sets of partners fall in love, only to ruin their careers in the aftermath of their failed relationship.

That is why Harry chose to remain unattached. Well, the why he chose to accept anyway. He wasn't a man that ignored his needs, but a night with Harry Styles was just that- a night. No feelings and no attachments.

Take for example the girl he took home last week after the party for his addition to the company. What was her name again? Eliza, yes that's right. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Eliza. She was pretty, a fair conversationalist and perfectly good in bed. Harry had supposed she must even be a decent ballerina, considering she was a corps de ballet member at the American Ballet Theatre. But to Harry, Eliza had only been a nice shag and a body to fall asleep next to on a night when a bustling New York City felt a little too lonely.

Apparently, however, Harry had been less than clear with dear Eliza about this, because as Harry chats with the tall, auburn-haired dancer standing in front of him as they warm up for company class, he can see the daggers of jealousy emitting from Eliza's eyes. He doesn't know this girl's name, the new one, but he can already sense the desire wafting from her body. The way she's learning forward to be closer to him as she stretches. The way she's laughing theatrically with every word that Harry says. The way her eyes are lingering on his lips for just a second too long as he speaks. He's beginning to think she might be a little much for him and makes a mental note to choose a different spot at the barre for tomorrow's company class.

He knows he's in trouble when the second the reverence ends, Eliza rushes over to him with and without saying a word slaps him across the cheek with more force than he thought possible out of her thin little arms.

Harry's skin stings from the blow, the corner of his eye watering ever so slightly. He presses a hand to the injured tissue in response to the attack. But this is not the first time Harry's received such an offense, and it likely won't be the last.

"So what are you just jumping on to the next one?" she shrieks. Harry looks around the room, noticing that people have stopped packing up their things and are now staring at him like he's a caged animal at the zoo.

"I'm sorry love, I'm not sure what you mean," Harry says in a low voice, hoping to signal to this highly emotional girl that this was not the time nor the place to have a reaction like this.

His words, however, appear to have the opposite effect because he watches her eyes flair with a new burst of anguish.

"Rachel!" the girl shouts, as if Harry has the foggiest idea who Rachel is. "Everyone in the room could see how much she was flirting with you. Did last weekend mean nothing to you?!" Eliza's thrown her hands up now, gesturing wildly in a way that's anything but graceful. "You said you would call and you never did."

Harry glances at his audience. Mistress Ivanova is standing in the corner with her arms crossed, looking less than pleased. He grabs Eliza's arm, pulling her towards the door and into the hallway. "Let's take this outside."

When they stop in the hallway, dancers bustling past them on the way to their next rehearsal. Eliza looks up at him. Her brown eyes are tinged with red and Harry wonders if she's about to cry. He'd made a mistake with this one clearly. She was too emotional. Too clingy. Too easily attached. "I never said I would call." Harry says softly, trying to keep his voice calm but firm.

"But you said you had a 'lovely time last night. Thank you.' Eliza sniffles.

She isn't wrong about that. Harry thought. And he did have a lovely time. He usually had a lovely time. But that certainly didn't mean he planned to repeat it. "I did have a lovely time Eliza." he begins, watching as her eyes flicker with something resembling hope. "But that doesn't mean I was going to call."

"It doesn't?" the girl sniffed, bringing her hand up to wipe a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

"Listen, love. I don't do dating. I don't do commitments. I don't do relationships. It's nothing against you. I'm certain you're a lovely girl. It's just..." Harry pauses. "How I do things."

Eliza looks at him wide-eyed, like Harry has just burst her forty-eight hour fantasy that they were going to run away together and travel the world and fall in love.

"I'm sorry if you got the impression that that was simply more than a one night thing. That was never my intention."

"Okay," she says timidly, and he can tell she's embarrassed. She shouldn't be- she wasn't the first girl to react like this. Harry seemed to draw admirers to him like mosquitos to sitting water. Some knew it couldn't be more than a one-night stand, others, like Eliza, reveled in the fantasy that they were the one that would convert Harry Styles into a life of commitment. The later were always disappointed.

"Are we good then? This won't happen again?" Harry raises his eyebrow. He's already fearing the repercussions he may get from Eliza's little outburst. He is already on a short leash here at ABT, and this was surely not going to help matters.

"We're good," she replies softly, but her face is filled with defeat.

"Well then, off to rehearsals." Harry adjusts his duffle bag across his shoulder and makes his way towards his rehearsal studio.

Harry already knows he's late when he enters the rehearsal studio. Giselle's standing there with her arms crossed, tapping the tip of her pointe shoe against the floor with impatience. She doesn't scare him, but the face of Mistress Ivanova when he enters the room does.

"Mr. Styles," she announces with a voice that resembles that of a mother about to lecture her young child. "Let me be the first to say that I take little interest in who you choose to spend your personal time with. When the choices made in that personal time, however, disturb my class and my rehearsals, it becomes my business. What happened today was completely unacceptable. And it will not happen again. May I remind you that you are on a very short leash here at ABT. Another incident like today and you will be replaced."

Six months ago, when Harry was at the Royal, he might have argued back. Reminded this instructor that she could replace him all she wanted but that people had bought their season tickets to see HIM- not some understudy. Reminded Mistress Ivanova that he could have a spot at any company in the world, and that it was HER job to make sure he stayed. But that kind of reaction, that thought process, was exactly what had landed him in this position in the first place- half a world away from home. Alone and at risk of losing a career in dance. So he bites his tongue and simply replies, "I understand."

He glances over at Giselle, who has something resembling a smirk across her face. When his eyes meet hers she quickly turns away.

"Now, we are going to work on the Act II white adagio today. I presume you two have spent some time together working on partnering so this should go smoothly." Mistress Ivanova claps her hands and signals the pianist to begin playing the music.

The fact that they hadn't practiced quickly becomes apparent. Their timing is completely off, the promenades are wobbly, and the dancing seems forced and unfamiliar.

"Maybe if you weren't making your way through the entire corps de ballet we could actually rehearse together," Giselle mutters under her breath as Mistress Ivanova leaves the room with a face that looks less than pleased.

"Maybe if you didn't act like I was about to drop you every time we promenade..." Harry begins.

"How do I know you aren't going to drop me when we've barely danced together?!"

Harry laughs. "I'm Harry Styles. I don't drop my partners, no matter how...annoying I may find them."

"Oh please," Giselle rolls her eyes. "Are you trying to make everyone in this company hate you? I mean if you keep at it with the corps and you'll have to skip company class all together." Giselle preps for a pirouette then relevés, feeling Harry's firm grip on her waist as she turns and he stops her abruptly. "Although I don't know, I get the sense that you like all that attention."

"Believe me Giselle," he accentuates the end of her name like it's a bad sound. "The last thing I want is to get emotionally involved with any of these company members."

Giselle preps for a pirouette again, this time Harry stops her smoothly, and she comes to balance in passé before lowering herself back onto her heels.

"Seems like Eliza was emotionally involved this morning. Sex will do that to people."

"Sex is just dancing without clothes, love." Harry replies, and the way his eyes meet hers in the mirror while his hands are placed on her waist sends a shiver down Giselle's spine. "Haven't you ever spent the night with someone just to escape?"

"Of course." Giselle responds, stumbling in her words only slightly. "But I know the importance of keeping my career and my private life separate."

The truth of the matter was, of late, Giselle hadn't had much of a private life. It was ballet this, ballet that. Any hours not spent in the studio were spent icing her achying feet and tired muscles. Giselle had done it once, the whole relationship thing. He was a young businessman who she met at a fundraiser for the company and he had been wonderful. Until she began to spend time with him instead of in the studio, and her mother quickly noticed her regression of skills.

Natalia Korsakova had been quick to express her distaste in the relationship and the effect it was having on her daughter's dancing. But luckily (or unluckily) for Giselle, she didn't have to be the one to break it off. One night she was laying in bed, watching a movie with a man she thought she might be falling for. Two days later, he simply stopped answering her texts or picking up his phone. He simply dropped out of Giselle's life with no explanation.

After that, Giselle knew better then to get involved with anyone who might distract her from her career. She decided maybe it was for the better, after all if there was one theme to be taken from the world of ballet, it was that love rarely ended in happy endings. There were far too many leads who sacrificed their lives in the name of love and for what? A pretty pas de deux in a pancake tutu of the afterlife?

"Hmm," Harry replies, but by the way his lips have formed into a kind of half smirk Giselle doesn't think he believes her.

They run through the variation again. It's better, their timing not nearly as disasterous as it had been a half hour earlier, but it still feels off. Unfamiliar. Like they were two strangers dancing, which Giselle supposed they were.

Mistress Ivanova doesn't return to the studio. Instead, it's Viktor who appears, twisting his hands together in awkwardness as he steps towards the front of the room. "Mistress Ivanova sent me in to run you through the variation again. She says she doesn't want to see it again until it, and I quote," Viktor pauses for emphasis. "No longer looks like it's torture to dance with each other."

Giselle hears a low chuckle leave Harry's lips. Was he amused by this? The fact that his inability to do what was asked of him had pissed off Mistress Ivanova.

"Let's run it. From the top," Viktor gestures to the pianist that has also returned to the room.

Giselle sighs, taking a deep breath before making her way to the starting point. The run the piece once- Giselle falls from the promenade. A second time- Harry doesn't stop her on the last pirouette. The third time is less technically faulty, but when Viktor stops them again, his face looks less than thrilled.

"Look guys, I know it can't be easy, being thrown into rehearsals with someone you've never danced with before. All your issues can be fixed easily once you are more comfortable with each other. More familiar with each others movements. It's going to take time, and rehearsal. And that's going to have to be rehearsal outside of normal hours."

Giselle glances over at Harry. His lips are formed in a straight line- emotionless.

"Just please. Practice before next weeks rehearsal with her?" Viktor's eyes are pleading this time, like he doesn't want to have to be the bad guy in this situation anymore.

Giselle nods, but out of the corner of her eye she notices that Harry remains completely still.

"Well, that's all for today. Thanks guys." Viktor announces before leaving the studio.

Giselle sits down, untying the ribbon of her pointe shoes. "So when would you be available to practice?"

Harry scoffs. "Practice? I don't think I'm the one that needs to learn the fucking choreography."

Giselle is taken aback by Harry's harsh tone. But she wasn't going to put up with this. Like it or not she was Harry's partner. And like it or not, they were going to have to put in some time if they wanted to keep their roles as the stars of the show. Harry was simply going to have to realize that he had just as much to practice as she does.

"No one said anything about the choreography," Giselle replies, her voice strong. "This isn't the Royal, Harry you can't go walking around like you own the place."

"And you can?" Harry scoffs. "Just because your mother's got a spot on the board doesn't make you the star of the show, love."

The word love at the end of his sentence almost cushions the blow of his words. Almost.

"You don't know the first thing about my relationship with my mother," Giselle spit back.

"And you don't know anything about starring in a show-clearly."

Giselle doesn't respond to this one. Instead she just narrows her eyes. "Tomorrow night, after rehearsals. This studio. We have to practice Harry, I won't have Mistress Ivanova storm out of another one of our rehearsals."

"And what are you going to do if I don't show? Are you going to run and cry to your mummy?" Harry taunts.

Giselle stands, slinging her bag across her shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow," she states firmly.

She can feel her blood boiling as she exits the studio and makes her way towards the staircase. If this was what it was like to be Odette, maybe she wasn't cut out for it. It was hard to imagine a scenario and which her and Harry's partnership would result in a magnificent performance.

"Giselle!" she turns and sees Viktor from the corner of eye, near the end of the hallway. He rushes towards her.

"Good job today. Harry may not be the most..." he stops, his mind searching for the word, "enthusiastic partner."

Giselle offers a weak smile. "You can say that again."

"If you ever want extra practice, I'd be more than happy to run through any of the variations with you. It may not be the solution to all your problems but..."

"Thank you Viktor, I appreciate it." She smiles and makes a step towards the door. "Sorry to hear about your retirement by the way, I'll really miss watching you on stage."

Viktor shrugs. "I guess sometimes it's just time to let one journey come to an end. You won't miss me too much though, I'm gonna be more involved with rehearsals." He smiles, but Giselle can see that behind his blue eyes, pain hides.

"Good. Well, I better go get some rest. Caleb has been texting me non-stop about our dinner plans for the evening," Giselle gestures towards the stairs.

"Better get on that then, don't want to keep the man waiting. Good night Giselle."

"Goodnight," she replies.

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

Giselle wishes she hadn't agreed on dinner with Caleb as she opens the door to her apartment. But Caleb was her best friend, and after a long day of rehearsals, his company was something that she desperately needed.

As Giselle sets her black duffle bag on the floor inside her bedroom, her phone begins to ring on the kitchen counter. She leaps across the floor to reach it, but when she glances down, the name on the screen makes her pulse quicken. Could this day get any worse?

"Hello mother," Giselle brings the phone to her ear, walking over to the couch and laying down, her feet up in the air.

"Giselle," her mother replies curtly. There's no darling at the end of her name. That's how Giselle knows this isn't a happy check-in motherly phone call. It's going to be the kind of phone call Giselle wishes she could mute. But then again, that's what everyone of mother's phone calls was.

"I ran into Mistress Ivanova this afternoon. I have to say Giselle, I was quite disappointed when I asked about rehearsals and she told me that she had to leave your pas de deux rehearsal because of how much work needed to be done. How many times have we discussed the importance of going into rehearsals prepared?"

Only a million times. Giselle responds in her head, but instead she remains silent.

"Now what on earth is going on between you and Harry Styles? Do you know how hard we worked to bring him here? I hope you are being a good partner. Have you been following that diet I sent you? Getting your extra mile in in the mornings?"

"Yes mother," she responds in monotone. She won't mention the street tacos Caleb is bringing over for dinner. She can't listen to that lecture tonight. "I've been trying to get Harry to put in the extra time, but he seems uninterested."

"Well try harder Giselle. You can't be the reason he doesn't stay at the company. Can you imagine the embarrassment I would get if my own daughter was the reason we lost out on one of the premier male ballet dancers of this generation? I don't know if I could show my face at a board meeting ever again."

Of course it was her own reputation her mother was concerned about. It didn't matter that Harry Styles might ruin Giselle's chances of every making principal. All that mattered was that Natalia Korsakova maintained her legacy.

Giselle hears a knock at the door. Caleb, thank god. She rises from the couch and makes her way to the door. "Find a way to get things going with Harry. Rehearse with him. Next time I speak with Mistress Ivanova I don't want to hear a negative thing about your performance." Giselle opens the door to see a smiling Caleb, brown paper bag in hand. "You have to do better Giselle, this may be your only opportunity to prove you can dance at a principal level."

Caleb mouths "Your mom?" and Giselle nods as he enters the apartment, setting the bag on the table and then making his way towards the white cupboards for plates.

"I know mom. It won't happen again. Listen, I've got to go. Caleb's going to run through Act II with me for a bit. Okay?"

"Okay," her mother sighs on the other line. Like it's a terrible inconvenience for her to have been on the phone for so long. "But don't forget to reach out to Harry about rehearsals too."

"I won't. Goodbye mom."

"Bye," Natalia responds, but Giselle barely hears her words before hanging up.

Giselle slams her phone down on the kitchen table which results in a raised eyebrow from Caleb "What'd she have to lecture you on today?"

"My disaster of a pas de deux rehearsal," Giselle shakes her head, making her way to the sink and filling a glass of water.

"And why was it such a disaster?" Caleb asks, setting a plate and napkin in front of Giselle's spot.

"Because Mistress Ivanova walked out on us,"

Giselle watches as shock fills her best friend's face. He stops what he is doing. "She what?"

"She walked out. And she won't rehearse with us again until we don't 'look like it's torture to dance with each other."

"It's that bad?" Caleb asks, now taking a bite of his taco.

"Worse. I mean it's been almost two weeks since cast posting and Harry has yet to agree to practice with me outside of rehearsals. I mean how our we ever going to dance with each other if we don't practice!"

Caleb opens his mouth to say something but Giselle continues. "I finally had enough today. I told him we are practicing tomorrow night. Doubt he shows though. And then what? My one chance to prove myself and it's a complete disaster."

"Gi," Caleb says, reaching for her hand across the table. "Take a deep breath."

She looks into his brown eyes and follows as they inhale and exhale in unison. It was an action they'd done a million times before, backstage awaiting their first performance as company members, when Caleb submitted his first choreographed routine to a local amateur dance company. It always seemed to bring them back to center, wherever they were, whatever the stressor, one deep breathe and things began to fall back into place.

Giselle would like to say that this worked a miracle. That the thought of failing her mother yet again wasn't racing through her mind. But it still was. Fainter, but still lingering.

"I just don't know what to do with him, Caleb. Harry Styles has to be the worst partner in the world."

"He's definitely proved why he got kicked out of the Royal. Guy's got an attitude."

"Why couldn't you be my partner?" Giselle sighed.

"Because, as Mistress Ivanova would say. I waste too much of my time on that choreography dream," Caleb sighs.

"It's not a waste of time, Caleb. You're choreography is groundbreaking."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But do you know what is groundbreaking? These tacos."

Giselle hasn't touched the fried, greasy mess wrapped in foil in front of her. To be honest, she isn't even hungry. If she had been alone in her apartment, she'd likely have opted for a salad, if anything at all. But Caleb was one of those people who believed food was the best cure after a long day. And Giselle needed his company more than anything, so she forces down the greasiness bite by bite.

Caleb begins to fill Giselle in on his own Swan Lake rehearsals. As well as the piece he is choreographing that he hopes Gregory, the artistic director will consider for the school showcase come spring. Then he updates her as always, on Finn, the coffee shop owner from down the street that he is infatuated with.

As they chat, Caleb's favorite street tacos grow heavy in Giselle's stomach.

Giselle makes her way to the bathroom, locking the door behind her with a click. She examines herself in the mirror, bringing a hand up to pull at her cheek. Her chin looks large, like she's had just a few too many street tacos, and her collarbones lack the definition that usually makes them stand out from her shoulders. Her mom's words echo through her mind. "Eat less Giselle. Exercise more Giselle. You need to be a good partner Giselle."

Giselle doesn't want to. She's been so good for so long, but yet- the urge is coming over her and it's so strong she can't ignore it, because she just knows that if she does this she will feel better. Just this once. Just until that heavy feeling of greasy street food is no longer lingering in her stomach.

She flips on the faucet, letting the sound of running water drum in the background.

She walks over to the toilet and kneels down, the gray ceramic tile of her bathroom floor is cold and hard, and her knees crack as she adjusts her weight. She leans over the toilet, her mouth open and her fingers nearby, willing up the strength to just do it. A few moments, and she could forget those tacos happened all together.

Giselle closes her eyes and executes and soon her dinner is staring back at her from the toilet bowl. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, reaching up and flushing the evidence. She then moves to the sink, cupping water into her hands until there's enough to gargle in her throat and rinse the sour taste from her mouth. She reaches for the pink toothbrush on the corner of the counter, applying a thin line of mint toothpaste before beginning to brush.

As she brushes, she tells herself this is just a one time thing. A solution to one poor dietary decision. She wasn't falling back into her old habits. This wouldn't happen again.

As she spit out the minty foam and looked in the mirror once more, Giselle told herself she felt better.

"Gi?" Caleb knocks on the door, bringing her out of her trance. "You alright in there?"

Giselle opens the door quickly, forcing a smile on her face. "Fine, tacos just didn't settle well." She pushes towards the couch, eager to get something else on her mind. "Shall we watch the next episode of The Crown?"

"Sounds perfect," Caleb replies, settling into the couch beside her.

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

Harry's not sure who is more surprised as he walks into the rehearsal studio later the next afternoon- Giselle or himself. He hadn't wanted to show up. But after the events with Eliza and the way rehearsal went, he knew he didn't have much choice. This didn't have to become a regular occurrence, just enough to get the Director off his back - and his obnoxious partner. Plus, dancing was better than sitting in his tiny New York City apartment alone, which seemed to have become even more lonely in recent weeks.

"Look who decided to make an appearance," Giselle says, hands on her hips as Harry slings his duffle bag to the side of the room.

"Yes I'm here. No need to gloat about it," Harry snaps. He wasn't sure what had come over him lately, this newfound bitterness. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that for the first time in his career, he was feeling the pressure of messing up. He could lose everything.

Harry had always been arrogant. He knew that about himself. It was the role he played to protect himself- from getting too close and getting hurt all over again. But as this personality trait slowly burned through his professional life, he began to wonder if it was doing more harm than good.

"Well then," he asks. "Shall we rehearse?" He looks at Giselle, who simply stares at him. The tip of her pointe shoe tapping against the Marley floor. What was she waiting for?

"Look Giselle, you don't like me. I get it. I'm not particularly fond of you either, but I showed up today and I'm ready to figure this out. This partnership. So can we please just rehearse?"

Giselle stares at him, slightly amused by the reversal of roles- the fact that for once Harry Styles was the one begging for her to practice with him. Her lips curve into a half smile. "Okay."

"I think we should go back to the basics. Finger pirouettes, whip turns, the whole lot." Giselle nods in agreement. Where had this Harry come from? She felt like at any moment she might jolt awake from her bed and realize this was all a dream, because this was certainly not the version of Harry Styles she had encountered during their first two weeks as partners. She wants to ask him about his sudden change of heart, but decides to bite her tongue. It didn't matter why Harry was here, just that he was.

Giselle stands in front of Harry her feet in relevé. She reaches for his hands, one above her and one beside her.

"How's that for grip?" Harry asks.

Giselle's startled that he's asking for her input. "Good...ya...let's just see..." She raises her leg to passé, then développé it to the front and turns. "Maybe bring my left arm a little more forward," she suggests, then turns again. "Yes that's better."

They continue this formula through the basics. Whip turns, fish dips, shoulder sits, promenades. Harry tells Giselle when she's not holding enough of her weight. Giselle tells Harry when his grip is too strong, too lose.

He's calmer today- more present. Giselle can see that he actually could be a very good partner- when he tries too. He's gentle with his lifts, steady with his balance, and although she doesn't trust him fully, she doesn't get the sense that he's going to purposefully let her fall on her face.

Giselle even thinks, that as she stares into Harry's eyes after a dip- that there's a glimmer of softness between the strong green hue. She sees why women find him attractive. Why girls in the corps fawn over him. His jawline was flawless- razor sharp. What are you thinking Giselle, she thinks to herself. All the beauty in the world can't hide his personality.

"Shall we run Act II?" Harry asks, and Giselle is shocked. She figured that she'd only be able to convince Harry to rehearse for an hour tops, and two had already passed.

"I think that would be good," she says.

Harry nods as they move to their places. Act II goes smoother than it has before. There's still hiccups. Giselle's body still feels unfamiliar in his hands and he can't anticipate her movements like he could Mia's- but Giselle's confidence has grown and he thinks there's a potential for this not to end in full on disaster.

She's quite good actually. Her technique is near flawless- no doubt due to the hours of late nights she spends in the studio. And Harry realizes that maybe he has been a bit unfair to her. She still was annoying, a perfectionist, too wrapped up in the movement instead of simply dancing- but she was a good dancer. She had potential.

"Think that's enough for tonight," Giselle pants, out of breath from their third run-through of the pas de deux. "Shall we do this again tomorrow?" After the words leave her mouth, she wonders if this is pushing it to far. Maybe she should have settled for one rehearsal with Harry. Getting him to show up for to rehearsals two nights in a row seemed highly unlikely.

"Okay," Harry responds, his answer shocking even himself. "I think we are getting somewhere. It just takes time." He makes his way over to the bar, leaning forward to stretch his hamstrings.

Giselle sits on the ground, unwrapping the silk ribbon of her pointe shoes.

"You know the steps Giselle and I'll make sure you look good out there. Promise," he says, and Giselle thinks that maybe she can see even a hint of a smile.

Giselle pulls her foot out of her shoe, folding her tights back to reveal her stinging blistered feet. She glances over at Harry, his face buried against his leg at the bar- his tights showing off his perfectly toned leg. It makes her think about him- the rumors about his arrival at ABT. She knows she shouldn't ruin the moment but she can't help herself. The words slip out.

"Did you do it?"

"Do what?" Harry asks, but the smirk on his face tells Giselle that he already knows exactly what she is about to ask about.

"Sleep with the director's wife."

"What's it to you?" Harry mutters, placing his other leg on the barre and stretching against it, the muscles of his back growing taunt beneath his white T-shirt.

Giselle shrugged. She didn't know why she was asking. She didn't care. Whatever had transpired at the Royal to bring Harry Styles into her studio was said and done. It's not like she could ship him back there, much to her dismay. "Just wanted to know if there was any fact behind the rumors."

"I could have," Harry says the sharp green of his eyes temporarily dimming. "There are countless women who have thrown themselves at my feet during my career, Mrs. Abbot included."

"But if you didn't... why'd you leave the Royal?"

"Now why would I tell you that when there's such a good story brewing in the company? I hate to kill a good rumor," He chuckles, his voice deep and velvety. He picks up his bag, sliding it across his body in one fluid movement. "Goodnight Giselle. I'll see you tomorrow."

And for the first time Giselle found herself not watching Harry Styles walk away with a feeling of distaste, but a feeling of curiosity.

Taglist:

@tpwkhoney , @swtxel , @stylessugarhigh

#loys #writingby1dfangirls35 #harry au #ballet au #ballet harry #hs #harry styles #1dff #harry fanfiction #harry fanfic #enemies to lovers #tw eating disorders

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corancoranthemagicalman · 3 years

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💜💜🌻💜💜🌻💜💜

Thank you so much 💜 my day was stressful and mentally taxing but overall it was fine :) i am so so flattered/flustered that you want to gift me something in return- i never expect anything when i'm penguin anon. And irl i'm trying to be better at accepting things from people. so if you really would like to gift me something here are some tropes i like: cas gardening (sorry i can't get away from flowers/plants!), dadstiel with baby or toddler jack, general domestic fluff, anything that explores cas & dean healing/character growth 💜 but i honestly don't expect anything in return for my hearts and flowers. They are freely given 💜💜🌻💜💜🌻💜💜

-🐧🌻

I’m sorry to hear it was stressful for you, dear. I’m glad that overall it wasn’t too bad for you, though. I hope this cheers you up? I’m a few hours later with it because I get distracted big time in research. Like figuring out that Dean was 22 when Shrek came out. Which had literally no bearing on this, but was fun to figure out. The hearts and flowers are more than appreciated. 💕🌺🌺💕

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

When Dean was four, he watched his mother hold his baby brother to the blooming sunflowers she kept in the backyard. Mom said they were called Sunriches. They were named that because they were like golden suns. Dean thought the sun was golden, but when he tried looking at it, the sun was just a bright, white color. Blinding. Dad said he couldn’t look at the sun without hurting himself, so he stopped trying.

What he could look at was Mom holding Sammy. He was only a couple of months old, but Mom was excitedly talking to him as if he could talk back. Dad said he wouldn’t be able to talk for a while. That didn’t seem to bother Mom. She was content to describe the flowers to Sammy. They were taller than Dean was. Mom said they wouldn’t get any bigger, but one day Dean would be tall enough to hold Sammy up to the flower petals. He looked forward to that.

Mom looked pretty in her dress, from Dean’s memory of the time. Her skirt swayed in the autumn wind in time with the petals dancing in the breeze. It was ethereal, like a princess talking to animals. Except instead of a squirrel on her shoulder there was a baby in her arms. Dean thought it looked like magic.

A few months later, when Dean was finally trusted with holding Sammy in his arms, he was running out of his burning home.

He didn’t think about the sunflowers they left behind.

Read more undercut or check it out on AO3!

Later in life, when Dean was flirting too close to a stable relationship with a reporter, he idly thumbed at the petals of the Suntastic Yellows. He remembered his mom telling him that they were the tiniest sunflowers. The type they used in bouquets. Cassie had a small pot resting on her windowsill.

Cassie’s hands drew around his waist from behind him. Humming into his neck, Cassie drew him backward with her. He thought about it in an absent sense, walking away from the sunflowers.

“You know,” she whispered against the shell of his ear, “they say that sunflowers track the sun all throughout the day.”

“Oh, really?” Dean smirked, taking her lips in his own. She was wonderful, really. Too wonderful. Wonderful enough that Dean thought about confessing everything to her. Cassie would understand. She was clever and understanding. Hell, maybe she’d even accept him.

It was too bad, then, that when Dean told her what he did—what he was—that she didn’t believe him. Dean wouldn’t have believed himself either. Walking away with his keys in his hand and his heart at his feet, Dean wondered if this is what it would always feel like. If he would always have to walk away from the place his heart was trying to make into a home. Maybe it was something about being a sunflower. Always tracking the sun throughout the day.

Too bad Dean couldn’t find the damn sunlight.

“Dude, look!” Dean grinned during another part of his life, pointing at some old lady’s front garden full of Taiyos. “It’s like Shrek.” He teased his brother, elbowing Sam who only rolled his eyes in return.

“Shrek? Really?” Sam scoffed. “How old were you when that even happened?”

Dean huffed a laugh. “What? You’re telling me you didn’t go watch the cinematic masterpiece known as Shrek with all of your college buddies?”

Sam rolled his eyes again, huffing with a shrug of his shoulders. “Sure, Dean. And then we watched Holiday in the Sun right after, too.”

“Never took you for a Mary-Kate and Ashley fan, Sammy.” Dean grinned, watching the sunflowers swaying in the breeze from the corner of his eye.

They looked peaceful in the witness’ front yard. Untouched by the grueling werewolf that was lurking through the small town. Dean could hear Sam’s sharp inhale from beside him.

“I always thought sunflowers were… homey,” Sam confessed, watching the sunflowers dance with a furrowed brow.

Shooting Sam a crooked grin, Dean stepped forward toward the sunflowers but he didn’t dare touch them. “I’m not surprised,” he began. “Mom used to grow them. She started taking you out into the garden as soon as you stopped crying all the time.”

Sam was silent for a moment, causing Dean to look at him with concern. It wasn’t often that Sam was quiet, but when he was it was always a contemplative silence. “I didn’t know that.” He spoke softly.

“You wouldn’t have remembered.” Dean shrugged, stepping onto the witness’ walkway to begin making their way up to the door. “These are a bit taller than hers were. But then again, everything seemed taller then.”

There was another moment of contemplative silence, but it seemed Sam had nothing left to say. He knocked on the witness’ door, taking care not to meet Dean’s eye. Dean wondered what that meant. Wondered if Sam felt the same way when he saw sunflowers.

Then again, Sam had always been larger than life. Tall and proud.

When Dean was on the aching side of forty, he watched Castiel hold their four-year-old son to the blooming sunflowers he kept in the backyard. Cas had been enchanted by the Little Beckas when he had seen them. While they might not have been the tallest—or the smallest—of sunflowers, he had thought they were lovely. Dean had made a quip about their halo and bought Cas seeds the same day.

Watching Cas and Jack reminded Dean of being four and trying to see what color the sun was. It was blinding, something he felt he should look away from lest it hurt him. But he found that he couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to. He just wanted to watch Cas answer every question Jack had.

He was beautiful, Dean often thought, but especially in moments like these. The cuffs of his jeans were muddied and his bare feet were buried in the soil where he sat with Jack in his lap. Dean hated how Cas refused to wear shoes outside, but he had claimed to like being closer to the Earth. Dean couldn’t argue with him. He wouldn’t argue with him; not for what made him happy.

Cas turned to look at him, catching his gaze and drawing him closer with just a look. Dean moved without hesitation, standing beside Cas and kicking at his knee with his booted foot. His approach drew Jack’s attention away from the flowers, who clapped excitedly the closer he got.

“Whaddya think, Jack? Do you like the colors?” Dean hummed, watching Jack’s gummy smile as the kid waved up at him.

“Daddy says that sunflowers face East!” He pointed enthusiastically, laughing and reaching for the blooms in front of him.

Dean frowned, looking from Cas to the flowers. “I thought sunflowers rotated with the sun or whatever.”

Cas hummed, tilting his head with a nod. “They do, in their youth.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Jack’s head. “But when they mature, the sunflowers learn that they get the most light during the morning hours when the sun has just risen from the East.” Bouncing Jack momentarily and causing the boy to giggle, Cas turned to face Dean. “They just learn what’s healthiest for them. It just takes time.”

Inhaling sharply, Dean wondered if this was it. If this was his East. Watching a smiling Jack and Cas whispering about sunflowers that—while not the tallest or the smallest—were a halo of colors. Two colors that came together, that never faded, that bloomed to life in this tiny garden he called home. He was a dark heart and a bright halo, smiling toward the bright, white sunlight of a gummy smile and clapping hands.

With a grunt, Dean lowered himself to the soil, sitting beside Cas and wrapping his arm around Cas’ shoulder. “These little guys are pollen-less,” he spoke to Jack. “That’s why we got the honeysuckles.”

“Honeysuckles stand for devotion.” Cas’ voice rumbled gently. “In the ancient Celtic alphabet, the symbol that the Ogham carved into stone to represent the honeysuckle stood for following one’s path.”

Dean snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “Sort of counterintuitive. Since, yanno, Free Will.” He quipped, raising a curious brow toward Cas.

Bowing his head in concession, Cas continued. “Yes, that is true. The Druids meant it more like… trusting one’s gut. Rather than sticking to the story.” He grinned, rocking with Jack in his arms for a moment. “But the honeysuckle is rather hard to kill. That is why it means everlasting devotion.”

“Deaths don’t stick, huh?” Dean hummed, squeezing Cas closer into his side. “Sounds like someone I know.”

Cas exhaled a laugh, resting his head atop Jack’s. “The Chinese valued the honeysuckle for its healing properties. It can be a cooling herb to remove toxins.”

Dean pressed a kiss to Cas’ cheek, keeping his lips there for a moment longer before pulling away. “Even if the honeysuckle can’t heal ‘em, the sunflowers like the company anyway.” He smiled softly, watching as Cas’ eyes turned dewy toward him. “And ‘sides, the honeysuckle brings all the bees to the yard.”

Snorting laughter that Jack joined in without knowing the cause, Cas shook his head. “I suppose so.” His attempt to suppress a smile made Dean’s own grin widen. “But the sunflower is more than enough company.”

“Damn straight,” Dean whispered against Cas’ lips, kissing him slowly and savoring the moment.

Between them, Jack made exaggerated kissy faces, causing them to pull apart and watch him with amusement. He grinned, reaching up and holding Dean and Cas’ cheeks in his palms.

“Daddy and Poppa sittin’ in a tree!” Jack sang, giggling as he smushed their heads together.

Mocking a frown, Dean held his other hand out behind Jack’s back. His palm felt so large in comparison to how small Jack was. “Did Uncle Sam teach you that?”

“Yup!” Jack nodded enthusiastically, head bobbing as he continued to hum the song under his breath.

Cas gave another chuckle under his breath, looking from Jack to Dean. “I suppose we should head inside. We're still expecting Sam and Eileen for lunch.”

Dean stood with a groan as his knees ached. He reached out a hand to help Cas and Jack up, standing tall with his family in their little garden. Keeping their fingers intertwined, Dean didn’t have to think about the sunflowers they left behind.

They would be there as long as the sun was in the East.

#ask c #anon #🐧🌻 anon #destiel #destiel ficlet #spn #spn ficlet #flower language #sunflowers #dean winchester #character study #meta????#dunno #im bad at tagging

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oneboxofmatches · 3 years

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I hope it's okay to ask for a HP romantic and friend matchup from the golden trio era and possibly romantic for marauders (please don't feel like you have to do the marauders one too if it's too much. I definitely don't want to stress you).

My pronouns are she/her and my romantic preference would be for a guy. I'm 5'4 and my style usually lingers somewhere between feminine, preppy, and "basic". I do think it's important to put at least some level of effort into my appearance.

My HP house is Ravenclaw (second highest Slytherin) and my enneagram is 1w2 (with 3 as a very close second top number)

I'm a super hardworking and ambitious person (sometimes at the expense of my own mental health and wellness). It's important to me to be able to work towards my goals and be with someone who has goals of their own. I'd get frustrated by someone who never knows when to take things seriously. I have a tendency to stress myself out sometimes and often let my stress bottle up. Cleaning/organizing and baking always help me feel centered and reduce my stress when I feel like I'm freaking out a bit. I tend to also be a little bit of a control freak on occasion in everyday life.

I can be a bit reserved when it comes to meeting new people, but when I'm around my close friends and family, I'm more open and talkative. I don't feel the need to force conversation though and can enjoy time around people just by doing our own thing next to each other and relaxing in each other's company. My friends and family are really important to me and I always try to be reliable and there for them whenever they need support.

When it comes to hobbies, I enjoy reading, watching tv/movies, cross stitch, and shopping. I used to be on a dance drill team and have continued doing yoga to keep up my flexibility because it helps me feel healthy. My favorite genres in books, movies, tv shows, etc. are romance and mystery, but I especially love when something has a big plot twist or is really thought provoking so that I can discuss it with someone I know. I also tend to be a romantic. I'm not really an outdoorsy person though and don't enjoy things like camping and hiking a ton.

When it comes to my idea of a perfect date it would probably be something pretty classic like going out to a nice dinner. I do enjoy getting dressed up and doing something fancy. Though, I'd also enjoy something like going to a carnival or festival together and just enjoying each other's company for a day. The most important thing is just spending time and connecting with the person I care about. My love languages are quality time and physical touch. It's simple, but I think it's super sweet just walking down the street and holding hands with someone. I also think it's nice when someone is taller than me so I can lean my head on their arm or shoulder while we stand next to each other (this sounds cheesy haha).

Goodness this came out so long, but I hope it's okay. Thanks so much for doing this!

This was amazing and no problem at all, thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!!

In the Golden Trio era, I romantically pair you with…

CEDRIC DIGGORY

You value hard work. Cedric is by no means a stranger to hard work. Getting paired together for a project is the most likely way you two realized just how much you can accomplish together.

While Cedric realizes the importance of his schooling and the high piles of work that come with it, he also recognizes that maintaining a balance between “work” and “play” is the secret to a healthy, manageable life. He admires your work ethic (and supports your goals 100%), but he’s also the first to advise taking a step back when the world starts asking too much of you.

It’s because Cedric has the utmost respect for you that he doesn’t just outright dismiss your outbursts that occur whenever he’s attempting to get you to relax for a moment. He makes sure you know that he finds both the work you’re doing as well as your mental health important, and all he wants to do is help you find that middle ground where you don’t have to sacrifice either one.

Learning that you already have ways to cope with stress (cleaning, organizing, baking) eases his mind, and he even uses this information to his benefit. He knows that suggesting one of these activities as an alternative to partaking in any stressful work environment you’ve found yourself in betters the chances of you taking a well-deserved break.

Aside from actual dates, it’s these little breaks where the two of you spend the most quality time together. In terms of conversation, things can range from talking lightly about your days, taking on a vulnerable tone for more personal topics, or even just a silence that sits comfortably between you while you work.

Also, it’s almost surprising how much Cedric loves watching mystery TV shows and movies with you. It’s not necessarily something he would’ve found himself doing otherwise, but he loves having someone to share the massive surprise that comes with a major plot twist. After the screen goes dark, you two can find yourselves discussing what you just watched for hours without growing bored.

As for the traditional dates, you can bet that Cedric is up for both dressing up for a nice restaurant or taking the more casual route by going to a carnival. The variety not only keeps your relationship interesting, but it proves that the location really doesn’t matter -- you enjoy yourselves and feel just as strongly for each other no matter what.

Overall, the mutual respect and dedication between you and Cedric create the ultimate power couple dynamic. Alone you can accomplish many things, but together the possibilities are endless. But at the end of a long day, it becomes clear that having each other is all that really matters.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

DRACO MALFOY

Don’t be fooled. Before this friendship was anywhere near friendly, you and Draco made up one of the most competitive duos Hogwarts has ever seen. Your high work ethic and his constant need to be recognized as a great wizard clashed, and Draco was found applying himself to his work like he never had before.

It probably took you two being forced to work together to realize you (surprise!!!) actually make a pretty good team.

The sudden burst of motivation Draco found while competing against you stays after you become friends, and you’re the one who teaches him how to use this newfound ethic more efficiently. He recognizes that you taking a break from your own work to give him these helpful pointers is a big deal, and though he doesn’t say it, he’s grateful.

Whenever he isn’t off trying to impress someone or make sure his name remains respected, he’s often in the library with you, working away. You don’t talk much, though the question “How are things?” serves as a solid conversation started for the times when the work you’re doing doesn’t need to be rushed.

You both come to find that you value the other’s opinion on many things. Both schoolwork and social matters are things you bring up with the other, and advice-giving (yes, Draco can give advice when he feels like it) becomes a common theme.

Support becomes a key part of your friendship. Draco makes sure you take care of yourself and you make sure he knows he’s more than just his last name. Rumors of his family’s involvement in certain affairs aren’t exactly rare, and while you don’t force him to open up, you make a point to remind him time after time that he has the power to choose his own destiny.

And when he does finally open up to you in private, your opinion of him doesn’t change in the slightest. You reassure him of this, explaining that whatever he needs, you’re there for him. You realize you can’t do much to change his situation, but you know that simply being a loyal friend through all this might be just what he needs.

Overall, you and Draco hold each other in very high regard, and though you bring different perspectives to the table, you realize you’re willing to help each other in any way you can.

In the Marauders era, I romantically pair you with…

REMUS LUPIN

Remus understands you find his friends annoying. He finds them annoying. But seeing you sit through one of their worst hyperactive, downright ridiculous episodes just so you could spend time with him while knowing you can get fed up with people who have a hard time taking anything seriously demonstrated that you were committed to your relationship and were willing to accommodate whoever he hung out with.

As someone who outworks over ¾ the school, Remus is a master at recognizing the early stages of burnout. Whenever he sees it in you, he’ll take on a softer tone and gently ask if you’d like to direct your attention elsewhere for a while and return to work at a later time.

You often work in the same room as each other, taking solace in the gentle quiet you two can find if you get lucky enough to find such a spot. While you both enjoy the peaceful, intimate conversations that usually come at the end of a long day, you are also content with saving that for later and using the time at hand to focus on schooling.

The complexity of your conversations (whether it be about the latest book you both read, a recent assignment from a shared class, or one of life’s mysteries) is much higher than that of the average couple. With the level of thought you two are already capable of, you challenge each other by exploring new ways of thinking together.

Remus can be quite the romantic when he wants to be. Respectful, yet simple gestures (such as opening a door for you) are a given, but he also loves little signs of affection such as holding your hand as you walk through Hogsmeade. He revels in the feeling of being close to you, and don’t be surprised if he gives your hand a gentle squeeze once in a while.

Overall, not only do you and Remus unlock new levels of thought and productivity, but you also have a pure, sweet love for each other that is timeless.

#matchups #fandom matchups #harry potter matchup #harry potter #cedric diggory #draco malfoy #remus lupin

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kiatheinsomniac · 4 years

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Chapter I: A Bright Opportunity

Clad in robes of deep red and gold, she waited in the shadow of the hidden door, peering through the crack of it being ajar, the hidden stone tunnel stretching out behind her. Her slim body was leaned back against the cold wall as she waited for her contact's company to leave the room. Once alone, she stepped silently out of the shadows and into the warm golden light that poured in through the polished windows, kissing the skin of the woman's face as soon as she pushed her hood down from her head and onto her shoulders.

"Your majesty." She addressed formally, kneeling down as she bowed her head towards the floor and placed a hand over her heart.

"Winifred, I take that your presence before me means you have something of importance?" The red-haired queen of England queried, waving off the alerted guards to lower their weapons before gesturing for the other woman to stand.

"Of course." Spoke the assassin, rising from her bow to pluck a letter from her pocket, the red wax seal already broken, she handed it over to her queen, "A plot by the Vatican - and I'm afraid that your cousin Mary may be involved too, Elizabeth."

"Thank you." The queen spoke, sucking down a breath as she thought of the gravity of the situation - yet another burden for the queen's already heavy shoulders, "Though, this only means more work for you, I need you to uncover if Mary truly is involved, I want to know exactly what powers are conspiring against me and my throne."

"I'll get right to it, your majesty."

LOADING ANIMUS DATA...

██████████████]99%

(Y/n) opened her (e/c) orbs, her vision fuzzy from sleep. An irritated groan was pulled from her lips when she reached for her phone, her alarm blaring in her tired ears. It was six in the morning and her usual time to get up for school.

Her dream was quickly fading from her memory, all she could remember was seeing Queen Elizabeth I of England and an old-fashioned letter with a seal. "Proof that I'm passing history, I suppose." She grumbled to herself as she unlocked her phone to check all her social medias before she exited her plush bed. It was full of white fluffy blankets and pillows and shielded her body from the cold air that nipped at anything outside of her blankets. Her light grey walls stood tall around her in her rather plainly decorated bedroom - there wasn't much aside from her wardrobe and organised desk.

She quickly finished up checking all her messages before jumping out of bed and heading to the bathroom to relieve herself, wash her face and to brush her teeth, shivering gently at the cold temperature, all too eager to get back to her room where she could wrap herself in a blanket as she readied herself.

Upon returning to her room, she began dressing for the day of school that lie ahead, sitting on the floor in front of her full-length mirror to style her (h/l) (h/c) hair and do her usual makeup. As she went through her morning routine, she danced around a little to the music that was playing from her phone - mostly her favourite songs by Lana Del Rey with some Billie Eilish and some classics thrown into the playlist.

Once she was done, she headed downstairs to make herself a coffee to drink while she sat at the dining table doing any homework that was due in that week.

She was the only person in the house. The solitude never bothered her ever since she was young - her parents worked a lot and she never had much of a close relationship to them anyway. In fact, relationships weren't something she was accustomed to anyway - her parents' work meant that they moved house a lot so she never really managed to make friends or stay in touch with them either. But, she was perfectly content with her studies and happily sitting at the top of her classes.

She was one of those people that could never get enough - no matter what she did, there had to be more to get done. For every lesson, there would be another three to learn to push herself further. 'Why settle for less when you can be the best?' she would often say to herself whenever she took a little break from studying to browse the internet on her phone.

Once it was time to leave the house, she was pulling on a coat and slinging her bag over her shoulder, drinking down the last of her slowly cooling coffee.

Her walk was just like any other usual day, taking the paths beside the main road while her music accompanied her through the cold early-spring morning. She let out a sigh while her playlist shuffled in her headphones, blasting loudly in her ears. She passed familiar paths and roads, stopping at the same traffic lights. (Y/n) had the option to be driven to school by the family driver but she preferred the twenty minutes of morning air considering she didn't leave the house often enough.

When she arrived in school, she made her way towards the library where she pulled a notebook and textbook out of her bag, going over chemistry topics regarding balancing equations and relative atomic mass. Her music played softly in her ears now, music without vocals that would distract her if present in the song. This was how her day went: get to school and study, attend classes to study, sit studying at break, attend more classes to study, have a small break for a light snack and drink at lunch before studying then attend her final lesson to study. Once she got home, she'd sleep for a while then listen to music/ paint/ read a book before studying until dinner; after dinner, she'd have a bath and take some time to look after herself before going to bed.

(Y/n) could admit that a change in routine was all she longed for but she didn't know anything else. She had no friends to go out with and didn't really have anything interesting going on at all aside from family events. She wanted a change desperately but had no clue where to start - whenever she tried to mix things up, she'd always fall back into the same routine out of habit. When the bell went off, she packed her notebooks neatly away into her navy blue bag and tucked her phone into her pocket.

The approach of yet another repetitive day.

She sat through her first three lessons, her work at top standard and focus sharp as she pressed herself in her studies more and more. Her attention was following the video on the board that was explaining the use of tangent with angles of elevation and depression, noting down little features to keep in mind (all of which she already knew but noted it down nonetheless to show classwork) when a male teacher, who was escorting a female visitor, entered the classroom, making his way across the room to the teacher's desk. The (e/c)-eyed female had seen the grey-haired teacher around the school before and was rather sure he was one of the receptionists. She watched the hushed conversation quickly occur between the receptionist and maths teacher before the man straightened his back.

"(Y/n) Glacier, could you come with me please?" He spoke up, the student opened her mouth slightly, wondering why she had to be taken out of class.

"Do I need my bag?" She quizzed, reaching for the strap of the navy bag that rested by her feet.

"Yes, please," He spoke as he made his way back outside. (Y/n) quickly gathered her things and made her way outside, closing the door quietly behind her. Her (e/c) gaze managed to get a better look at the visitor. She was a woman in her late middle-ages with fair light brown hair and turquoise eyes. She wore a purple blazer and skirt with a white blouse and black heels.

"I'm not in trouble am I?" The student quizzed, she had no idea why she had been taken out and was beginning to grow worried that she might have done something; though, there was nothing that she was able to think of.

"On the contrary, dearie." The visitor spoke up as they walked towards a classroom, that was bare aside from the school's headmaster, where the three of them took a seat. The school's headmaster was a woman nearing being elderly with jet black hair that presented a few grey streaks. On her nose were thick-rimmed glasses and she wore a deep red blazer with a white blouse and a flowing black skirt that reached her ankles. She was a good headmaster and had been running the school for the good part of three decades from what (Y/n) had heard.

"Miss (L/n), this is Miss Pearl Attaway." The headmaster spoke, "She's a member of staff at Vermere Lake Grammar School and she's representing the board there that are searching for students to join seeing as it's a new establishment."

"Ok. . ." (Y/n) began slowly, "I suppose, to begin with, I'd like to ask: why me?" She began picking at a thread on her skirt under the table, finding herself to be rather nervous.

"Your grades are outstanding, (Y/n)." Pearl Attaway began, "We're looking for students with gifted minds like yours, you'd be a wonderful asset to the school."

"Where is this school?" The (s/t)-skinned student quizzed, wanting to know everything about it before she began to make up her mind on attending.

"The French countryside." The visitor replied. (Y/n) opened her mouth to speak but was cut off, "I know what you're thinking and I'm sure that the proposal of a boarding school comes as quite a shock but your parents have been spoken to and they both are in favour of you going and have left the final decision up to you." (Y/n) stopped to think. This choice was going to be far more difficult and impactful than she originally thought.

"I think that I'm going to need more time to make up my mind on this. . . I mean: France? A boarding school? I've never done anything like that before, I've never stayed away from my house unless I'm with family. . ." She looked down at her lap. This could be her chance to really advance in her studies! And the fact that they had sought her out specifically too! Would she be around more like-minded people?

"It's perfectly understandable if you want some time to think this over but I'm afraid that I'll be needing an answer before the end of the month," Pearl replied. That gave (Y/n) three weeks to make her big decision. The (h/c)-haired student turned to her headmaster.

"I know it's a lot to ask for but could I go home? I want to be somewhere where I can have some clear-headedness to think about this and I'd like to talk to my parents too. It's understandable for you to say no." She requested. The older woman tossed the idea around in her head for a moment.

"I'll have to contact your parents but I'm sure they'll allow you to return home." She smiled as she stood up, everyone else in the room following suit. The receptionist began leading Pearl away. However, the woman in purple paused on the threshold of the door.

"We hope that you'll choose to join us, (Y/n)." And with that said, she was around the corner and out of sight.

"If I may add my thoughts on this," The headmaster spoke up as she began leading (y/n) to her office in order to make a phone call to the student's parents, "I believe this is an excellent opportunity for you, I've seen your grades and your class books and I believe that this school cannot provide the facilities and teachings that you need to further your education. This would be perfect for you."

"I know. . ." (Y/n) began thoughtfully, "It's just the boarding school part that's making me hesitate. I've never been away from my family before." It was true that she was used to solitude but she was used to that in her own household, not in the countryside of another country surrounded by other people her age. She was certainly stuck on the fence. . .

The call was made and she was sent home, hence why she was laying on her bed of lightly coloured pillows and blankets, staring up at her white ceiling.

"This could be the change you want - no! - need! This could be your way to get a change in routine and press yourself to be the best! But it's so far away. . . And? You're not close to your family anyway, it's not like you can't call them for comfort if need be. You're not exactly leaving any friends behind either. . . What if you can make some friends there? If they're looking for people like you perhaps you can get on well with them. This could be the best decision of your life! Or the worst. . . Come on, you get to go to another country and attend an outstanding school! Don't let sentiment hold you back! It's a boarding school, I'm sure you can bring whatever you want to make yourself feel at home. Tell you what: let's do it! Let's go to this school! What have I got to lose? The worst thing that could happen is getting homesick." And so, she reached across the bed for her phone to contact her father who would tell Pearl Attaway that (Y/n) would be attending Vermere Lake.

For the first time in her life, the change she longed for was finally within reach.

#light academia #dark academia #assassins creed #assassins creed fanfiction #arno dorian x reader #altaïr x reader #jacob frye x reader #ezio auditore x reader #edward kenway x reader #fanfiction #connor kenway x reader #kassandra x reader #alexios x reader #the elites

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