#she was a stem girl that rose to the top of a company. she had to be a bit power hungry and cold hearted

[thickest-slimiest-malware]

thats a bold statement..

#i like to think caroline was low empathy and idk how to describe it. like people talk about nurses now #she was a stem girl that rose to the top of a company. she had to be a bit power hungry and cold hearted #she was polite! absolutely. nicest person youll ever meet for the first 5 minutes of conversation. saying what she needs to say #but not a feelings person. a strategist even then #i mean sure maybe being a robot makes you a bit more evil according to fictional logic but i think glados was still a mostly accurate copy #of carolines brain. like the gist of her. only simplified a bit but not THAT much

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Hurt/Comfort Dialogue Prompts 2 and 9 with Stephen Strange x Beauty, please? It might be sweet seeing him comfort her after she had a really cold and exhausting day.

2. "Drink some of this tea, it will warm you up."

9. "Go to sleep, I will not leave you alone."

Hurt/Comfort Stephen Strange x Beauty Lincoln (OFC)

Hey, Stephen - I'm so so sorry, but I'm gonna have to cancel on our plans tonight. I've had an incredibly rotten day at work and stuff, so I just want to curl up on my sofa & watch something mind numbing & lick my wounds a bit.🥺Even though I miss you like crazy, I just wouldn't be good company at all. We'll have to try again, hopefully soon. Love you. Always.💋💋 

Stephen gnawed on his lower lip as he read Beauty's text a third time. His schedule lately had been jampacked as supernatural activity across the globe has kicked into overdrive in the month leading up to Halloween. The rise in incursions from eldritch realms was to be expected at this time of year, but it was often complicated by amateur ghost hunters and wannabe practitioners of magic or voodoo either trying to fight the baddies on their own, or summon malevolent spirits to do their bidding. Meaning he and his fellow sorcerers had twice the work to do—protecting humanity from both mystical dangers and from the foolish antics of those who believed they had a calling to do the same.

He glanced over at the vase holding a dozen and a half long stem American Beauty roses in several shades of pink, which he'd meant to accompany his apologies for missing their last three date nights. Thinking that his girl must be in a very bad way to make tonight their fourth miss. Crap. Stephen decided at once he wasn't going to let that happen. As quickly as his scarred fingers would allow, he texted back. 'Understood. Missing you too, sweetheart. We can reschedule. You rest up & take it easy tonight. And please just let me know when you get home safely...so I don't need to worry so much.'

Beauty's reply came right away. 'Will do. Thanks for understanding, magic man. And for worrying about me.💗' Stephen had to smile fondly; a sweet sort of warmth always filled his chest when she called him that. And man, had he been missing that warmth! If he hadn't already decided to surprise her, that simple little phrase would've been enough to set his plan in motion. 

Beauty stood before her door, damp-haired (having forgotten her umbrella in her desk drawer) and with the lower half of her sweater-coat and her suede boots drenched from being splashed by a taxi that had pulled up to the curb as she been waiting to cross the street. At least the first time Stephen sees me in weeks won't be with me looking this bedraggled, she consoled herself. Although I'd rather warm up in his arms than in that old afghan thrown across my sofa top.

It's better this way anyway, she sighed forlornly, zipping off the text he'd asked her to send so that he'd know she'd gotten home in one piece. Stepping through her door, Beauty noted the room was candlelit and redolent with one of her favorite scents in the world. Gingerbread. This just had to be Stephen's work! Already her heart—weighed down by all the bad news she'd received at work this day—began to feel a bit lighter.

She dumped her attache and pocketbook on the floor and shrugged off her wet sweater, hanging it on one of the hooks beside her door. Inhaling deeply (he must've found her stash of gingerbread scented candles) Beauty called out his name.

Stephen came around the corner from the kitchen, wearing his dear, lop-sided grin and one of her frilly aprons over jeans—surely a sight he intended to amuse her. He had the sleeves of the dark blue silk shirt she'd recently given him (just because she'd known he'd look damn fine in it) rolled up, further indication he had something brewing in the kitchen. "Oh, Stephen...you didn't have to go to this trouble. I would've been fine just crashing on the couch."

"Nonsense," he insisted as he came to stand in front of her, smoothing one hand over her wet hair. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't do what I could to take care of you?" 

Speechless for the moment, Beauty lowered her gaze shyly—and to hide the fact that tears stood in her eyes. Stephen's voice, low and deep and rich with honest concern, continued, "I've lost track of all the times you've taken care of me at the end of a rough day. It's long past time I returned the favor." He pulled her into his ready arms.

Beauty nodded and laid her head upon his shoulder, and then the tears did come as he rocked her gently. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, baby. Just let me be here for you—and let me remind you of how much I love you..."

She had cried for a good ten minutes, clinging tightly to him, only aware that her hair and clothes and boots had dried completely in the interim (a subtle charm Stephen had worked for her comfort) until shegathered her wits and backed out of his arms. "Go get changed," he instructed her gently, "I laid your jammies and robe out on your bed, and then you can meet me back her for something to warm you on the insides, okay?"

Beauty nodded silently, kissing his cheek before following her good doctor's orders. When she returned to the living room, she discovered that Stephen had set a small tray on the coffee table, along with a vase of gorgeous roses. He motioned for her to take a seat.  "Drink some of this tea, it will warm you up."

Meekly, gratefully, she accepted the cup, sipping gingerly until she could tell it was the perfect temperature. "Now," Stephen told her, picking up the remote control, "I've got The Princess Bride cued up for your viewing pleasure, unless you prefer Practical Magic to begin with instead..."

"You remembered..."

"That we were watching that the first time I finally had the sense enough to kiss you?" Stephen cupped her cheek and leaned closer, "How could I not, sweetheart? That was the best first kiss of my life..."

"Don't tease me," she whispered.

"Simple truth, Beauty. And my life has been better and better every day since." Stephen took her free hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles, "I should probably tell you these things more often. I'm gonna try my damndest going forward, to do just that. And to take care of you as you deserve." He stood up, "And now supper. Your favorite comfort foods on the menu. Pizza Hut pepperoni pan pizza—and a mac'n'white cheddar cheese that I made from a box mix myself."

"Will there be dessert," she asked, gifting him her sweetest smile—the first of the evening.

"Ben & Jerry's reverse chocolate chunk--"

"But they don't make that anymore!"

"I know," he winked, "But don't ask a sorcerer to reveal all his secrets, honey. There needs to be at least a little mystery to keep the spice in a relationship."

Sated on pizza, mac'n'cheese, and her all-time favorite ice cream, Beauty was feeling a whole world better than before she had stepped through the door of her flat. As they watched the magical romance, she shared with Stephen the things that had made her day so awful. Budget cuts at the Library meant she's have to lay off at least one staff member and truncate the Library Page program she'd started two years earlier. She'd found out that one of her students in the 5-8yr old reading group was battling leukemia and had been sent to St. Jude's Hospital in the hopes of getting lifesaving treatment. And shortly before she had initially texted Stephen, her brother had called with the sad news that his wife had miscarried four months into her pregnancy. In Stephen's arms, she found the exact comfort she had been needing, but hadn't wanted to impose upon his valuable time to ask for. 

The heavy emotions of the day, coupled with the carb heavy meal Beauty had consumed, finally asserted themselves as bone deep exhaustion. Though she was doing her best to stay awake, Stephen could feel her drifting off. He nuzzled the top of her head and tightened his arm around her. "You wanna go to bed, honey? We can pick up the movie where we left off, on another night."

"Uh-huh," she yawned, snuggling even closer, "I'd rather stay here with you, Stephen. It's been ages since I've felt this warm and cozy. I...I don't want it to end."

Stephen hummed agreeably. "I know the feeling, baby. I've been missing this more than I even realized. I'm not gonna let us go this long apart again. We both deserve better. So for now," he sighed, closing his eyes and resting his head atop hers, "Go to sleep, I will not leave you alone."

Secure in the care of the man she adored, Beauty slept more soundly than she had in months. In the morning, she awoke in her bed beside him, and it proved to be the beginning of a very beautiful day.

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@stewardofningishzida ~ thank you again for giving me a chance to write Beauty & her Stephen! It's been so damn long, and I've been missing them together.

#my writing #hurt/comfort prompt #fluff #doctor strange fan fiction #stephen strange fan fiction #Stephen Strange x Beauty Lincoln #BeautifullyStrange #stephen strange x ofc #doctor strange x OFC #doctor strange fanfiction #stephen strange fanfiction #Strangebatch #My Eternal Muse #Benedict Cumberbatch

[redwoodwv-hq]

Name: Mayra Rojas Age: 38 Town Occupation: Hairdresser / Cook / Gardner Previous Occupation: Exotic Dancer / Hairstylist / Singer Redwood Resident Length: ≈ 2 years Faceclaim: Nathalie Kelley

Bullet Points:

She lives in a little cottage built by both Isaac and Sol, surrounded by wildflowers and sunflowers.

Knows both English and Spanish fluently, also knows a bit of French and Quechua due to her father.

Everything she was before her traumatic experience has been pushed inside a huge mental box besides one thing: her love of piano.

Considers herself a spiritualist and is all about holistic remedies.

Has a black cat named Salem.

Biography: (tw: eating disorder, sa mention)

Big expectations were placed on Mayra Rojas from the moment she was born. With one of the most successful and respected Pediatric Neurosurgeons in Philadelphia as a father and a mother who ran the number one marketing company of the region, Mayra was expected to evolve beyond their own capabilities. As a child, she surely exhibited the traits. By the time she was four years old, Mayra knew how to play both Claire de Lune and Für Elise on piano without sheet music. When year ten hit, the girl had won countless awards and medals for her musical talents and written papers. The parents spent thousands on tutors and teachers to push their daughter beyond her own limits. With the pressures thrown from all directions, Mayra felt as if she had no control over her life. She was twelve when her eating disorder started.

Hiding food, sneaking it from the kitchen or from lunch at school into her room, Mayra would stash it away to binge when her parents would fall asleep. Her weight rose quickly. Noticing, her parents put her on a strict diet and had her enter sports along with her honors academics. Mayra joined the softball team along with volleyball but hated every second. The girl had no life, and because of this, the students would tease her for her loner tendencies. Mayra wasn’t popular; she wasn’t a cheerleader. She definitely was no one’s favorite whenever the teachers would rave about her glorious grades. Mayra wanted nothing more than to shrink.

College was a different experience. Mayra was accepted and attended the Massachusetts Institute of Technology for STEM cell research at the demand of her parents. They believed their daughter had what it took to discover the success of gene therapies and splicing. In a different environment, Mayra began to lose the weight she had gained from high school. Her mental health was getting better, and she was excelling in all her classes. The teachers all recognized how talented she was; one specifically took notice. From the lack of attention and appreciation in her younger years, Mayra was blinded to the red flag waving heavily in her face. The abundance of compliments, the random gifts, and words of encouragement all made her feel on top of the world. However, in her junior year of college, Mayra’s life was ended figuratively speaking. An act so heinous was forced upon her.

Mayra dropped out of school and disappeared. Neither her friends nor her parents knew where the girl had gone. Private investigators were hired with no success. Finally, on the fifth anniversary of what had happened, Mayra showed up in her hometown of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, a changed woman. Mayra went to the community college for cosmetology and became a hairdresser. The intelligent, know-it-all girl was gone, and a promiscuous woman strutted all over town. She later became an exotic dancer, collecting mountains of cash from mediocre rich white men. Mayra also became a local star in the music world by singing at functions, playing piano and acoustic guitar. During one of her shows, a patron suddenly rose from their seat and began attacking others. This was her first experience with an infected.

Due to her parents’ money, Mayra fled to one of their many cabins. Located in West Virginia, right at the Pennsylvania line is where she held up as long as she could with her black cat, Salem. Surviving in an apocalyptic world wasn't exactly high on her list - but she made due, putting her faith in the Universe that everything was going to be okay, and so would she. Eventually, her resources ran out, and Mayra had to move in fear of the savages returning (after their first appearance). Walking aimlessly, Mayra came across another survivor. Once she realized he wasn’t part of the savages, the two traveled together - later coming across Redwood.

#redwood.characters

[house-of-slayterr]

I just imagined, that Maggie and Y/N got drunk and started to chatter, like girl talk, about top 3 the most handsome men in Gotham, who would you rather..., Bang marry kill etc. Think you could go on with it? :D

Girls Night Out!

Today has been the absolute worst. Not only did I have three floral cancellations, but a spontaneous wedding just had to happen. And the bride was demanding I get 2 days worth of work done in 5 hours. I’d pricked myself on several roses, and the fragile calendula petals kept ripping from their stems. I was about three seconds away from just burning the whole place to the ground with me inside.

“Maggie, what are you still doing here?” My boss asked.

“Wedding, bridzilla, no time.” I mumbled.

“Yikes, want some help?”

“She’ll notice of the work isn’t mine, she’s very picky and if I have to see her cry one more time today, I’m going to shove a bundle of roses down my throat, with thorns still intact.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender and walked away. But just as he reached the door he paused.

“Oh, umm somebody left you something out front. Just make sure to lock up when you’re done ok?”

“Did you see who?”

“Only saw the back of their head as the left, red hair.”

“Fuck.” I muttered. “Ok thanks. I’ll let you know when I’ve locked up for the night. Who gets married at midnight in Gotham anyways?”

“Beats me kid, try and get some rest ok. Maybe take tomorrow off.”

“Thanks.”

By the time I got of work I wanted to slam my head into a wall repeatedly. My hands were shaking from how much I stressed over every little detail on the bouquets. Out of instinct my feet carried me to Y/N’s place. I didn’t really wanna go back to one of Oswald’s moods at the moment. So I found myself knocking at the assassins door. I was surprised when I heard laughter on the other side. She looked down at me when she open the door.

“Oh Maggie, what a pleasant surprise.”

Her smirk was anything but comforting at the moment. She was planning something. Before I could even ask what she was up to, she dragged me into her house. That’s when I saw a familiar face.

“Tabby, what are you doing here?”

It was clear from the bottle littered around that these two were already halfway on their way to being drunk. And I kind of envied that.

“Y/N was having a bad day, one that killing people wouldn’t fix. So we’re having a girls evening? Care to join us Bunny?”

I rolled my eyes at the nickname, but quickly walked over. Y/N sat beside Tabitha on the couch, and I gently lifted Tabitha’s hands, sitting on her lap.

“There is a whole couch you know?”

“You’re comfier, Mon Cher.” I flirted.

Y/N raised her brow at the two of this.

“Not that I’m not enjoying the show, because I certainly am, but when did this happen?” Y/N mused.

“You remember a while back what I said when I dealt with the whole Fish issue?”

“Yeah… wait-“

“Omg Y/N! You really thought I was sleeping with Tabitha’s boyfriend and she didn’t know about it? That’s totally against girl code!”

Tabitha watched the two of us in amusement, playing with my hair. She slowly undid the right braid in my hair, unknowing realising the tension from my scalp. I wasn’t even really aware it was there until it suddenly wasn’t, I instinctively leaned into her touch. It was nice to feel wanted, even if it was nothing serious. Tabitha always knew how to make me feel better.

“We’ll you surprised us with a lot of things that day Kitten, how was I supposed to know you were at turning a new leaf?”

She sipped her wine with a smirk on her face.

“That’s phrase is usually used when someone suddenly chooses to have morals, not be a horn wrecking whore.”

“To each their own. By the way, what the hell are you wearing?”

“What’s wrong with my outfit?”

“Darling, hate to break it to you, but in this town, you might as well be dressed as a nun.” Tabitha clarified.

I looked down at my outfit in shame. I didn’t think it was that bad, but then again, I was in the company of two of the most dangerously beautiful people in the whole city. I let out an exasperated sigh, letting my face lull back into the crook of Tabitha’s neck.

“And what exactly do you want me to do about that?” I questioned.

“Strip.” Y/N all but commanded.

“Excuse-moi?”

“You heard me, then Tabby and I will choice your outfit for this evening. Come on, it will be fun. Don’t you agree Tigress?”

“I think that’s a great idea.”

I glared at the two of them. But got up from my seat anyways.

“You know I hate the two do you, like on a personal level right?”

“Join the club.” They said in sync.

“Fine, but I’m not drunk enough for this. Also there’s like no music, what the hell am I supposed to strip to? The sound of my heart beat?”

“I can fix both of those issue Mon Cherie, just give me a moment.”

Y/N left to raid her liquor cabinet. And I stared at Tabitha in bewilderment.

“I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this.”

“Like it’s the craziest thing you’ve done Bunny? What happens at girls night, stays at girls night.”

“Wow, how comforting.” I glared.

Y/N came back with a drink that looked nearly deadly.

“What the hell is that?” I stopped her.

“Remember how I told you you shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want the answers too…” she smirked at me. “Now open wide.”

“Definitely not.”

“Don’t be such a worry wort, it’s not poisoned if that’s what your thinking.”

“Yeah that’s not my main concern right now”

Tabitha got up from her spot on the couch and approached me from behind.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you loosen up Bunny, you seem stressed. You probably need this more than we do.”

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and choosing to trust these two women with my life. A mistake very few people survive. I felt one of Tabby’s hands snack around my waist, pulling me closer to her, and the other made it’s way around my neck. Most people would be terrified, but I had to fight everything in me not to whimper in that moment. She forced my head back.

“Now be a good girl and open your mouth bunny”

I did as I was told without hesitation. Y/N placed her hand on my chin and slowly poured the alcohol down my throat. It burned, like my throat was actually melting, but I endured it until the glass was empty. Then suddenly they let go off me, and this time I couldn’t help but let a sad little whine escape.

“See, it wasn’t that bad now was it?” Tabitha comforted.

“Look at you, so submissive and needy Kitten. It’s honestly adorable.” Y/N teased.

“You try being in my position and tell me how much you like it.” I snapped back.

But her ever present smirk just grew.

“Now I’m sure you know the rules for a proper strip tease.”

“Yes, I’m not five.”

“The better the show, the better the outfit you’ll earn.”

Y/N walked over to her speaker and pressed play on the song she chose. I was so used to her music taste when she was with Victor, I never even thought about what she might listen to on her own. As the song picked up I set my pace, making sure to make it as slow and painful for them as I possibly could. If they were gonna torture me, two could play at that game.

As I got more into it as the Al him finally started to set in, I playfully slapped Tabitha’s hand away as she tried to grab me.

“You should know that you can’t touch the Dancers Tabby.”

She rolled her eyes and growled playfully.

“You’re no fun.”

“On the contrary my love, I’m having the best time right now.” I smirked.

When the song was over I was just in my underwear, cause there would be no point in taking it off. At least not without a tip.

“Who the hell were you trying to impress wearing those?” Y/N teased.

“Maybe I wear my nice lingerie all the time? Who says I wear it for anybody?”

She raised her brow at me skeptically.

“I’m with Y/N on this one, you totally wore those cause you were hoping someone would see them.”

“We’ll now someone has. Now do I get clothes now or am I just gonna walk around half naked the rest of the night?”

“I wouldn’t mind”. Tabitha purred.

I threw a pillow at her face.

“And then I’d have to tell Butch we had fun without him. And that wouldn’t be fair now would it?”

Y/N grabbed my hand and dragged me over to her room before rummaging through her closet. I looked around noticing all the odd things she had in her room. Some of them I didn’t want to ask, cause I’m pretty sure my imagination could figure it out. I mean the handcuffs on the bed were pretty self explanatory. Even I wasn’t that boring, but the other stuff, I’d like to remain blissfully unaware.

She handed me a oversized black shirt and what looked to be a corset. I knew better than to ask her where the pants were, it was clear I wasn’t getting more to put on. I shot her a playful glare and asked her to turn around.

“Really, you practically give us both a lap dance but you want me to turn around so you can change?”

“My bra isn’t gonna look good with this outfit ok. Leave me alone.”

She playfully wiggled her fingers before covering her eyes. I quickly pulled on the outfit, and I had to admit, I looked hot.

“Wait, why have I never seen you wear this?”

She shrugged.

“You know how Oswald is, if I showed up to work dressed like that, he’d make me walk the streets.”

She laughed at her own joke.

“Oh great, so I get to dress like a hooker instead.”

“You look nice, stop fretting. I mean Tabitha is wearing all black leather and always carries her whip on her. And I just dress like a more sophisticated hooker. Now go show your girl your outfit so we can get approval.”

I blushed furiously.

“She’s not mine and you know that.”

“Whatever you say Kitten.”

Tabitha’s eyes widened when she looked at me. I gave her a worried glance. Did it look bad? Maybe I wasn’t the right kind of girl to wear something like this. I mean knowing Y/N this simple outfit was probably more expensive than my old apartment bill.

“What, is something wrong with it?”

“I Just- wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen your boobs look that nice.”

I had to take a deep breath to calm myself. It was kinda funny when I thought about it. It was clear to everyone that she was originally gonna say something else, but I let it slide. Y/N was practically cackling at the encounter.

“I think it makes her legs look nicer, the fishnets really complete the look.” Y/N complimented.

“We’ll now I feel both ridiculously over and under dressed. I don’t know how you managed to do it.”

I sat back down, gratefully taking the wine glass Tabitha offered me.

“So, what’s next on the girls night agenda?”

“Would could play Fuck, Marry, Kill?” Y/N suggested.

“Please tell me you mean the regular sorority way and not some strange Gotham version of the game.”

“What, are you chicken?”

“No, I’d just rather not be arrested for manslaughter or public voyeurism tonight thank you very much.”

“Kid’s got a point, besides you know how Gotham weddings are…” Tabitha concluded.

“Fine, I’ll start. Edward, Harvey, Butch.” She grinned Wickedly at the two of us.

“Easy, Kill Harvey, Fuck Riddle-Ed and Marry Butch.” Tabitha said.

“I know a trap when I see one Y/N I’m not stupid.”

“It’s fine, I won’t be offended.” Tabitha assured.

“Fine, umm Marry Butch I guess, but by default that means I get you as my wife, kill Edward and Kiss Harvey.”

“Woah Woah Woah, kiss Harvey?”

“I mean I’ve already done it so… besides I don’t think Edward would appreciate me trying to kiss him.”

“You’ve kissed Harvey?”

“I was trying to make Jim jealous, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And you think Edward would appreciate you trying to kill him?”

“He’d think it was admirable at best. Could be worse ways to die. Now, Victor, Lee, Ivy.” I said.

Y/N glared at me, but answered quicker than I thought.

“We’ll I already made the mistake of Marrying Victor once, so kill him, marry Lee and kiss Ivy.”

I rolled my eyes, god she was so stubborn. She’s have to get over this eventually.

“Um, I’m gonna have to agree with Y/N on the Vic front. Besides I don’t want her to shot me for my answer. But I’d Marry Ivy, kiss Lee. I don’t know how you could stand to marry her, she seems insufferable.”

“Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me just yet bunny. Alfred, Me… Jim.”

“Really?”

“Answer the question Maggie!” Y/N taunted.

“Toi en premier, la garce!”

“Fun. Fuck the butler, kiss the assassin, kill the boy toy.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I Hope you know I hate both of you.”

“You keep saying that, yet you keep coming back for more.”

“What can I say, I’m a masochist.”

“Not that that revelation isn’t exiting my dear, but answer the question.”

“Or what?”

Tabitha quickly flipped me over, hovering above me on the couch, a knife suddenly in her hand, pressed against my throat.

“Do it, I’ll just enjoy it!” I smirked.

She rolled her eyes.

“Answer.”

I brought my knee up between her leg, catching her off guard and flipping her. I threw the knife across the room, lodging it in the wall, and pulled her into a rough kiss. Then a pulled away with a smirk.

“Marry Alfred, kill Jim.”

I reached for my glass once more and finished it off.

“Maybe we should get you drunk more often Kitten, you’re fun like this.”

“Alfred, really?” Tabitha tested.

I could hear the pout in her voice from me stopping our make out session. But that’s what she gets for being a massive tease all night.

“I mean have you seen that guy work his magic in the kitchen, with the way her used those hands… besides he would actually treat me right.”

Y/N faked wiping tears from her eyes.

“They grow up so fast.”

I’d never heard Tabitha laugh so hard in my entire life. I playfully punched Y/N in the arm.

“Enough of this, I have a new game, Truth or Dare!” I announced.

“Darling we both know nobody here is picking truth.”

“Perfect. Tabitha, I dare you to finish what’s left of that whiskey bottle.”

“Easy! Done!”

We watched as she walked over to the bottle? Flicking off the cap.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” Y/N and I chanted in sync.

It was funny really, if anyone saw us right now. A strange bunch of people doing a weird assortment of things. She did a little bow after and returned to the couch.

“Ok you’re turn Bunny, I dare you to steal the knife hidden under Y/N’s skirt!”

“We’ll how is that fair? If she knows I’m gonna steal it she won’t let it happen!”

“Not my problem.”

“Fine, what’s the deadline.”

“End of the night.”

“Deal!”

“Hate to break it to you Kitten but you’re gonna lose this dare.”

“To bad, so sad, moving on. Y/N I dare you to go make out with the first person you see when we go outside.”

“Oh we’re taking things outside now?”

“You got me all dressed up, I’m not wasting those outfit.”

“Fine, to the club we go.”

We all made our way out of her apartment. The Gotham streets were surprisingly empty tonight. We listened to Tabitha babble about how annoying her older brother was. And honestly I’m glad I’ve never had to meet him, he sounds miserable. When we made it to the club, the bouncer stood outside. I gave Y/N a knowing look. I watched as she approached the man, I had to admit, she flirted pretty effortlessly. I don’t know why I was surprised. And as she kissed him, Tabitha and I snuck past into the club.

“That worked better than I thought.” I smirked.

“She’s gonna hate you for that you know? Man wasn’t really her type.”

“Not if I pay for drinks tonight.”

“Smart move.”

I hid behind Tabitha as Y/N came toward me. She chuckled at my action.

“Don’t worry Kitten, I’m giving you a free pass this once. But pick a stupid dare like that again and I’ll stab you.”

I grabbed some shots for the girls and awaited the dare that was sure to punish me.

“Maggie, I dare you to start a bar fight.”

My eyes widened.

“What did I ever do to the two of you that you hate me so much?” I grumbled.

“Aww sweetheart, we don’t hate you. You just unfortunately befriended two sadists. You’re mistake really.” Tabitha jeered.

I scanned the crowd, trying my best to pick someone that wouldn’t be able to do too much damage. Did Y/N really want to get kicked out already? This was Gotham, half these club goers probably snuck some sort of weapon in here.

“Stop stalling.” Y/N warned.

“I’m not stalling, I’m being analytical. Can’t continue this game if I’m dead.”

Tabitha spun me around, and pointed.

“How about him.”

She pushed me forward before I could even protest. I glared back at the two of them, but smiled to myself when I realised this might actually be fun. I called out a random name, making myself sound drunker than I actually was. The guy looked at me confused but understood I was trying to talk to him. I took note of the girl dancing close to him, and could see they Ken’s each other.

“I can’t believe you could do that to me, you bastard. How could you cheat on me with my own sister!” I lied.

Before he could even open his mouth, I slapped him across the face as hard as I could. It was kind of satisfying, I couldn’t lie. Then just as planned, the girl next to him stopped dancing and turned to him.

“You lying man whore, you told me you were single!” She shoved him back, pushing him into another unsuspecting crowd goer.

And the dominos fell into place. I shrunk back, slinking back over to we’re my two friends stood with giant smiles plastered on their faces.

“Nicely done”. Y/N complimented.

“I honestly thought you would chicken out.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence Tabs, really feeling the love.”

I placed my hand over my heart, offended.

“We should probably get out of here, before the security realises who started this.”

But it was too late. I heard footsteps approaching and I grabbed Tabitha’s hand, running with her out of the club. We squeezed through bodies and dodge rogue punches being thrown. And I left Y/N in our wake to deal with the consequences. She thrived in chaos, so I really didn’t feel that bad. I mean this was the outcome of her dare after all. As we ran into the ally, I stopped to catch my breath. I let out a chuckle, holding my side in pain from how hard I was laughing.

“You two are gonna be the death of me.”

Tabitha laughed along with me.

“I can’t believe you left her back there!”

“What, she can handle herself. Nobody in that place stood a chance, even if she’s drunk.”

I flinched when I heard a gunshot go off. But I knew who it belonged to. Shit really just got real.

“Should we run before she makes it outside?”

“Definitely!”

This time Tabitha dragged me after her. She had much more experience in running away from and angry Y/N, and neither of us felt like getting shit this evening. I cursed under my breath when I heard the familiar sound of the police siren, coming towards us. I slammed Tabitha into the wall and pulled her into another heated kiss, hoping the car would just pass us.

“Maggie?” A voice called.

I cursed under my breath.

“Hi Harvey, fancy seeing you here.”

When I turned around I wasn’t surprised to see Jim getting out of the car as well.

“Umm, this is Tabitha, not sure if you guys have met.” I introduced awkwardly.

“We have, she’s been in handcuffs many times.” Jim deadpanned.

“Interesting…”

“Are you dru-“

We were all cut off by the click of a gun. Harvey and Jim were quick to draw theirs and aim it at the assailant. Tabitha armed herself with her whip and I just stood there unphased, not bothering to turn around.

“Nk, no. Why would I be drunk?”

“Maggie you do realise Oswald’s but woman is currently pointing a gun at your head right?” Harvey cut in.

“Is she now? That’s fascinating.”

“Did you drug her?” Jim accused Tabitha.

She simply shot him a glare.

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“We’ll first she’s hanging out with you of all people, and secondly, she is far too calm right now.”

“She’s not gonna shoot me silly.” I giggled.

Harvey looked at me like I just drop kicked a baby.

“Did you hit your head?” He asked, concern lacing his tone.

“Yes, did you Maggie? Cause you sound far to confident right now.” Y/N warned.

Another gun click was heard.

“Gilzean? What are you doing here?” Jim asked.

“Drop the gun, both of you!” Harvey started to sound annoyed.

I smiled as Butch pointed his gun at Y/N. So he did receive my text.

“Just came to get my girl. Hello Maggie.”

I wiggled my fingers in a little wave. I have Tabitha a quick kiss on the cheek and pushed her towards him. She almost instantly leaned into his side. Yet once again we were interrupted by another gun joining the party.

“Don’t make me brainwash you again Butch, or this time I’ll make it the couples special” victors cold voice threatened.

“Put the gun down Zsasz!” Jim command.

I had to admit, his authoritative tone was getting me a bit excited in my half drunken state.

“What are you doing here Victor, I thought you were out of town”. Y/N questioned coldly, not even turning to look at him.

“A little birdie told me you needed my help.”

He turned his eyes to me, and it’s seemed so did everyone else’s in that ally.

“Hi Vic.” I fidgeted with my fingers, not bothering to make eye contact with anyone.

“I’m going to shoot you twice!” Y/N seethed.

“We’ll that’s a lame threat, it’s not like the second shot is gonna magically hurt more.”

I’d finally turned around to meet Y/N’s fierce gaze.

“Yeah sweetness, I’m gonna have to agree with the kid, you can do better than that.”

Without hesitation, she turned her gun to the bald hitman. Effectively cutting out the chain and allowing Butch and Tabitha to slink away.

“Have fun you two!” I shouted after them as they left.

“Should we stop them?” Harvey whispered to Jim.

“You should probably take cover actually” I advised.

Bullets we’re quickly being shot off as the couple fought like old times, just like I had planned. I knew Vic would come when I texted him. And I knew Y/N would be too stubborn to let him walk away unscathed. Jim had pulled me with him to hide behind the cover of the cop car.

“What the hell is going on here?”

“Well Mommy and Daddy were giving each other the silent treatment so I made them talk.” I explained.

I giggled when both boys stared at me with wide eyes. Harvey’s mouth kept opening like he was trying to say something, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually speak a coherent sentence. I stood up from behind the car to check to see how things were going.

“Maggie what are you-“

I cut him off by sneaking out from behind the car. The gun shots had stopped but nobody was dumb enough to think that meant the fighting has stopped. They’d simply run out of bullets. Y/N had Victor pinned against the wall, stuck in a choke hold. But he was still looking at her her like she was the most precious thing in the world. I put a finger on my lip telling him to remain quiet.

I snuck up behind Y/N and with one swift motion I stole the knife from her grater. I held it up in the air in triumph.

“Ha, I win!” I shouted.

Y/N turned to me me comically slow, eye practically twitching. I quickly tucked the knife into the cleavage between my corset. Carful not to cut my skin, at least not too deeply.

“Nice outfit Maggie.” Victor complimented.

He had no idea what was going on, but he was beyond amused anyways.

“I’m just gonna let you two work this out.”

I gestured between them, before running off and crawling into the back seat of the cop car. Jim hopped into the passenger seat and Harvey got in the drivers seat.

“They may be out of bullets but I would still drive if I were you.”

When we were far enough away that we were sure neither of the assassins would fallow, Jim turned to look at me. I could tell it was the first time that evening that he was really noticing my outfit, his eyes trailed over my body in a frantic way. But he quickly shook the thought out of his head.

“Mind explaining what the hell is actually going on. I thought I told you to stop hanging out with Y/N, she’s bad news.”

I let out a vicious cackle.

“Told me, who died and made you king?”

“I could always throw you in jail, public intoxication, and we did just witness you steal that knife. Right Harvey?”

“That is true.”

“Ooo, handcuffs and a free trip to the integration room with you Jimmy, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Harvey slammed on the breaks and turned around to look at me.

“No, absolutely jot. If you two are gonna start flirting you’re both walking back to the station.”

I held up my hands in mock surrender.

“Either way you’re not gonna get me to talk boys. What happens on girls night, stays between us girls. Thems the rules, I don’t wanna find out what happens if I break em.”

The rest of the ride back to the station was silent.

An: omg was this so much fun to write. Jim has no idea what he got himself into. And poor Harvey is starting to see his favourite citizen is falling to the dark side. He would be Devastated if he lost “one of the good ones” thanks for the idea @keffirinne hope it was worth the wait! Maggie was really the definition of bi panic at the start there.

Tag: @flaysthings @howl-fantasies

#gotham #gotham oc #magnolia blossom #gotham imagine #maggie #victor zsasz gotham #victor zsasz imagine #y/n zsasz #girls day #girls night #jim gordon x reader #jim gordan #harvey bullock #gcpd #tabitha galavan #butch gilzean #bi panic

[corpseglider]

pairing .. corpse x girlfriend!reader (fem)

summary .. the time in which corpse really does propose

part one .. read here

the first sign.

“Now why exactly did you want to go to the farmer’s market?” You asked, eyebrows raised at your boyfriend’s beaming face. 

Corpse ran to the rose bushes, daisies, and baby’s breath—looking through each and every vendor’s selection. His eyes were sparkling with excitement at the sight of the various colors, his body shaking profusely.

You followed behind at a distance, giving Corpse the freedom to explore on his own. The market was overflowing with life. That life not necessarily being human life, but fresh plants and fruit.

Your pockets were drained quickly, all of the hard cash on you had disappeared into the hands of the kind vendors. Bags of homemade goods filled your arms, nearly falling over from how unbalanced you’d become.

“Oh, shit.” Corpse said, running up to you and taking a few packages into his own hands, giving you a little breath of relief. “You seem to be right at home here!”

He chuckled, his heart glowing in your company. The overall aura you gave off brought his life immense joy. You were the light in his darkness, the stability to his chaos.

The two of you now walked together, strolling between vendors and awing at the vast array of flowers. It was a peaceful moment, just the two of you together in a place that made you happy.

“Oh these are just beautiful!” You exclaimed, your eyes settling on a bouquet of small lilac alliums. The little blossoms were undeniably gorgeous, standing out amongst the others like stars in the vast night sky.

The little bouquet fit perfectly in your hands, complimenting your features nicely. Corpse took a mental picture in his brain, wanting to remember this moment showcasing the natural beauty that you possessed forever.

He studied the flowers, noticing the little petals and yellow bobs along with your beaming face. Without hesitation, Corpse pulled out his wallet, giving the vendor whatever price they were asking for.

“You’re the best, you know that right?” You pressed a soft kiss to Corpse’s cheek, loving how your boyfriend spoiled you. Gratitude was evident in your voice, the tone soft and thankful. “I love them.”

Corpse wrapped his arm around shoulder, hugging you to his side as you made your way towards your car. He kissed the top of your head gently before whispering in your ear.

“I love you.”

the second sign.

The house was silent, Corpse’s footsteps echoing slightly as he quietly shut the door to his gaming room. It was around four in the morning, he’d just finished a live stream, having stayed up all night to do so.

Exhaustion was all that was on his mind. He was itching to crawl into bed beside you and refill his energy. Just the thought of holding you in his arms was more meaningful than any dream he could possibly have.

Corpse tiptoed down the hallway, cringing as his phone began to ring. He frantically reached into his pockets, attempting to decline the call before realizing that it was Sean who’d been dialing him.

“Hey man.” He spoke in a low tone, doing his best to make as little noise as possible. It’d been a long week for you, and he didn’t want to disturb your sleep. “What’s up?”

Sean responded energetically, the time zone difference being evident between the two men’s attitudes. “Just calling to say what an amazing stream that was!” He exclaimed, his accent strong. “You really tricked us tonight!”

Corpse laughed, running a hand through his already unruly hair. “Yeah that was all luck.” He admitted, having no strategic meaning in any of his moves. “My lucky charm is home right now, that’s probably why I won.”

He could envision Sean nodding to his words, his friends being fully aware of how close his relationship with you was. “Y/N, yeah.” Sean answered, a little bit of a smirk on his voice. “How’re you guys doing?”

A smile rose on Corpse’s face, just the thought of you brought out his soft side. “We’re doing really really well, man.” Your boyfriend said, walking into your shared bedroom. “Thanks for asking.”

Sean sighed, most likely sitting back in his chair to get in a more comfortable position. “Of course, you guys seem really happy.” He paused for a moment, considering what he was going to say next.

“I was tagged under that comment you made on Instagram.” Corpse stopped breathing at his words, knowing exactly what he was referring to—but Sean continued on. “Was there any truth in that?”

The call was vacant, neither man speaking on the other’s behalf. Corpse took a deep breath, gazing at the girl who was fast asleep in their bed. “Definitely.” He breathed out, processing his words as he spoke.

“She makes me so happy, man. I just love her so much.” His voice was even quieter than before, Sean barely being able to comprehend what he was saying. “I don’t know what to do.”

Sean’s grin was so large it could be heard on the phone. He was so happy to hear that his close friend had found someone so perfect for him. “I think you know exactly what to do.”

With that, they bid their goodbyes, promising to talk again in a few hours. Corpse slipped into bed, finally realizing the steps he had to take in order to end up with the outcome you and him deserved. 

He pressed a kiss to your temple, wrapping his arms around you and closing his eyes. As sleep took over his senses, your’s were wide awake. Your face was flushed red, tears brimming your eyes.

You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the sound of Corpse openly talking about his love for you was too much to ignore. It was one thing to know that there was someone there for you—but to have him speak so highly about you to others?

That was love.

the third and final sign.

Corpse had been bouncing off the walls all day, his body overflowing with nerves. He’d been doing his best to act inconspicuous for the entire day, wanting to surprise you with his notion of a proposal.

The weight of the ring box felt like tons in his pocket, weighing him down as he walked with you towards the view point. His heart was racing unevenly, thumping in his chest like a metronome.

Constellations sparkled above you, the sky filled with stars and little specks of dust. It was a moment under the perfect view with the perfect man. Your perfect man.

You stood beside him, holding his hand in yours as you pointed out all of the constellations that you knew by memory. Corpse was silent, humming along to your words and listening intently.

Before you knew it, you felt his grip loosen, your arm dropping completely. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, wondering why he would leave you absent of his touch.

A gasp escaped your lips as you turned, facing him underneath the light of the moon. Corpse was down on one knee, holding up nothing but the ring box that had formerly been stashed in his pocket.

He pursed his lips into a smile, opening the box to you. “It’s no ring made of fresh flowers,” he admitted, watching your facial expressions like a hawk, “but I hope it’ll do.”

Your eyes settled on the ring, noticing the beautiful and intricate design. The band resembled stems, wrapping around like vines—while the jewel itself looked as if it was blooming out of a flower.

That flower being identical to the flowers he had bought you at the market, weeks before. 

Tears were now tripping down your face, your hands on his shoulders as you nodded enthusiastically, accepting his proposal with all of your heart. “Of course it’ll do!” You grabbed his cheeks, kissing him over and over again.

“You are perfect for me.” You rested your forehead against his, shivering as he slipped the ring onto your finger. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Corpse laughed, thanking everything for the fact that he was lucky enough to have someone such as yourself in his life. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

#corpse husband x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband fic #corpse husband imagines #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse imagine #corpse imagines #corpse fic #corpse fanfic #corpse fanfiction #corpse #among us x reader

[aitarose]

THORNS | AZULA

PAIRING: Azula x Reader x Zuko [fem]

PLOT: Though Azula always said that she’s never believed in love, she failed to stop herself from falling head over heels for her brother’s betrothed. companion piece to roses; based on these requests by anons

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, unrequited love, mutual pining, somewhat friends to lovers

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

A/N: this connects to the events that occur in roses. this piece can be read as a standalone, but roses gives more detail to the reader’s feelings and relationship with zuko

ALT. END: Blossoms | ZUKO’S POV: Roses

WRITER’S ANALYSIS: Here

MY MASTERLIST

thorns : a symbol of sinful thoughts, extreme sorrow, and hardships. when paired with a rose, denotes both pain and pleasure in the sense of love.

Year one, day one.

Azula slammed her hands onto the skin of her face, repeatedly making contact with her dry cheeks. She let out a deafening scream of anger, punching the wall next to her, leaving a dark black mark in its wake.

She’d been in her room for less than three hours and she was already going mad with boredom. 

The princess huffed, plopping herself down onto the twin-sized bed that was nestled in the corner of her so-called suite. 

She knew that Zuzu had done his best to give her the best commodities the Fire Nation could offer, but her former people weren’t exactly jumping to meet her pretentious living standards. 

Which was actually something that Azula somewhat understood. She knew deep down that what she had done was wrong—trying to kill the Avatar, trying to kill her mom, kidnapping the nation’s children, the whole gist. 

She’d done bad things, some really bad things in her past, but that’s all that it was—her past. Azula wanted to get better, she wanted to be better for not only Zuko, but for herself.

So she and her brother had devised a plan. A plan that would, in its entirety, take five years to complete. 

Zuko was giving Azula half a decade to prove to him that she could be good, truly good. Which to most would seem like quite a bit of time, but for Azula, she didn’t know if it would be enough.

She wrapped her arms around herself, warming her ice cold shoulders. Azula hadn’t been alone with her thoughts for this long in a while—and if she was being honest, there was nothing that scared her more than her own mind. 

“Princess?” She jumped, startled by the frail voice calling from the opposite side of her door. Azula hastily marched to the entrance, yanking it open in annoyance at whomever was bothering her chosen isolation.

Standing before her was a girl about her age, she couldn’t have been older than eighteen. She was holding a tray with various Fire Nation delicacies stacked on top of one another, steaming with heat and the kitchen’s aroma.

Azula rolled her eyes at the sight she was seeing. Of course Zuko had ordered for her to have a late dinner, he’d most likely been preoccupied with all of his new and earned Fire Lord duties.

“Come inside, peasant.” Azula gestured to the small dining table in the center of her confinement. She pulled out a chair for herself and expectantly looked at her companion with the expectation that she’d serve her. 

The other girl hustled, quickly placing the princess’s meal on the placemat and taking the seat opposite to her. She laced her hands together, her fingers tapping the wood nervously.

Azula threw her palms flat on the table. “What are you doing?” She questioned, interrogating her helper, who was cowering in her seat. “Does my brother expect you to monitor my meals? What damage could I possibly do with this slob? Start a food fight in the palace?”

Her uninvited guest took a deep breath, seemingly focusing her stress and fear into the idea of feeling zen. She swallowed hard, her gaze on Azula evolving from anxiety to empathy.

“Actually,” she trailed off, her lips rising into a thin smile. She looked into Azula’s golden eyes, searching for any signs of discomfort or rising anger. “The Fire Lord didn’t send me here, his advisors did.”

“The council knows that your brother has a soft spot for you.” She explained, watching as Azula slightly nodded her head along to her words. “Spirits, everyone knows that when it comes to you, he has no reason.”

“I’m only here to monitor and report your progress.” Azula scoffed at the thought of her father’s old council dictating the direction of her own life, but at least they’d sent someone she could relate to. A girl that she could actually form a conversation with.

A scowl flashed across Azula’s face as the admissions her companion had stated ran through her mind. No matter, at least she had some entertainment now.

“Do you have a name?” Azula asked pointedly as she began to pick at her meal. “Or should I just call you ‘Servant’, like I do with all of the others?”

The girl lightly laughed at the unintentional joke, finding humor in the thought of being stuck with the princess as nothing but her worker. She shook her head, smiling slightly, before responding.

“You can call me Y/N.”

Year one, day ninety-four.

“You’re late.”

Azula crossed her arms over her chest, huffing loudly as she attempted to seem angered by her new friend’s timing. She’d become well accustomed to the daily routine they’d developed over the past months.

Seeing Y/N was honestly the highlight of Azula’s day.

She’d never verbally admit that she enjoyed the kind girl’s company. That she felt refreshed by her positive and warm nature, that she relished in the judgement free outlook that Y/N had on life.

And Azula would never mentally admit to herself, that she may have developed unwanted feelings for her friend. 

She always told herself that love wasn’t real. After witnessing the so-called love her mother and father had shared first hand, Azula wasn’t necessarily looking forward to potential love in her future.

No matter who she was involved with.

“Sorry about that Azula.” Y/N hustled through the doorway, her hair tangled and dusted with dirt particles. She had a large scratch on her right cheek, most likely self inflicted. Y/N was clumsy like that.

Azula let out a short laugh. Taking in the appearance of her crush. She even makes dirt look good.

“I was running on time, but then I saw this adorable booth in the market and I just had to make a stop.” Y/N rambled, waving her hands in the air in exaggeration. Her cheeks were flushed red from her sprint through town, resembling the color of a blooming rose.

“As if it matters to me.” Azula shrugged nonchalantly in her best attempt to seem as if she didn’t care about her friend’s dilemma.

As if she didn’t care about every second of her day. As if Y/N’s overall excitement wasn’t the only thing that truly kept Azula going nowadays.

Y/N brushed off Azula’s feigned disinterest as if it was nothing. It wasn’t uncommon for the princess to ignore her daily shenanigans. Most of the time, she felt as if Azula didn’t even listen to anything she said.

Which Y/N had quickly realized not even weeks into their meetings, really really hurt her. It hurt her heart that Azula didn’t care, that she didn’t matter in her eyes.

In their time together, Y/N had developed inklings of feelings for the firebender as well. Feelings that she had come to internalize and push aside.

After all, it wasn’t her job to fall in love with her client. Her job was to help Azula learn to love her own people, to help her gain the love of her people.

“Well, Azula.” Y/N stumbled towards her friend, accidentally tripping over her own feet in embarrassment. She proceeded to hold out a single flower not yet in bloom. 

“This is what the vendor was selling.” She smiled warmly, letting Azula take the flower into her own hands. “It caught my eye, because it reminded me of you.”

Azula studied her gift. It was a red rose, the shade being so vibrant it could be compared to her brother’s firebending. The stem was thin, yet covered in thorns of various sizes. They prickled Azula’s fingers, puncturing her callouses. 

As she gazed at the budding rose, Azula realized how fitting the gift was to her. She had never been the kind of girl who longed for bouquets and sweets, but when coming from the right person, perhaps she was. 

Whilst she struggled to come up with a reply to her friend’s kindness, Y/N mentally applauded herself. She’d finally found a way to make Azula speechless.

“It’s not terrible, I suppose.” Azula threw the flower to the ground, lightly kicking it away from her with her right foot. She turned away from Y/N, not bothering to see the heartbroken look on her crush’s face.

“I’m sure that garbage was all you could afford anyways.”

Azula cringed as she heard the door close lightly. Her eyes were rimmed with tears, realizing that even while upset, Y/N would never respond to her own awfulness with anger.

She felt herself collapse, her knees buckling beneath her. Soft sobs escaped her lips, silent cries filling the hollow room. 

The sorrow-filled girl looked up from her lap with tear-filled eyes. Azula could see the faint outline of the young rose beside her. As she lifted the thorn covered flower with careful hands, she saw what Y/N had meant with the gift.

That Azula was dreadful and hurtful to others on the outside, but when encouraged and supported, she could become something beautiful.

Someone that could one day be compared to the beauty that was of a blooming rose.

As she sat alone, staring at the budding rose in her palms, Azula realized that she would only be able to become that person with the help of Y/N. She was the only person that had even come close to seeing her for who she truly was.

The only person who would think of giving a gift such as this to the princess of the Fire Nation. The only person who Azula had ever come to feel true and honest love towards. 

Azula had to become better. Not only for herself and Zuko—but for Y/N.

Year two, day one-hundred and six.

“Can I ask you something serious?”

Y/N rolled over to face Azula on her side, resting her elbow beneath her chin. She tilted her head while scrunching her nose in thought.

Azula was laying beside her, staring up at the dark vaulted ceiling. She’d been allowed to move back into her old bedroom at the palace with Zuko and his advisor’s permission, after they’d been informed of all of her progress with Y/N.

It was a room where Azula had never truly been comfortable in when she was younger, she used to feel so alone in the spacious and empty bedroom—but with Y/N’s company, she hadn’t felt alone in years. 

“That depends,” Azula responded, crossing her arms over her chest. She frowned, taking a moment to consider what Y/N could possibly ask her. “What is this serious question that you’re deliberating?”

Y/N dropped the arm that was supporting her upper body, allowing herself to fall back onto the soft red carpet. She stretched her arms out, nearly hitting Azula in the process before mimicking her friend’s position.

She let out a deep sigh as she closed her eyes tight. Her heartbeat raced in her chest, preparing herself for whatever reaction Azula could possibly have to her curiosity.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Azula nearly choked on air at the sound of Y/N’s words. She had to physically stop herself from bolting upright and leaving the room, before whipping her head around to give her crush a look of confusion.

“Love?” Azula cringed, pushing the thought of the emotion to the very depths of her mind. “That’s what you really wanted to ask me? If I’ve known love?”

The firebender could faintly see Y/N’s head nod in the darkness surrounding them. She lit a single flame from the tip of her pointer finger to get a better glimpse of Y/N’s beautiful face.

She could see the stress in her eyes—spirits, Azula could feel the anxiety rippling off of Y/N’s body in waves. She didn’t know why a question like this could possibly affect her companion in the way it was now. 

She didn’t know why it was affecting her in the exact same way.

“My parents were my only example of love when I was a child.” Azula shared, trusting Y/N with the inner secrets that she’d never verbally spoken before. “My mother left before I knew she even cared for me, and my father..”

Azula trailed off, not wanting to finish her sentence. Y/N pursed her lips at the princess’ silence, taking her shaking hand into her own soft palm. She rubbed her fingers against Azula’s, doing her best to comfort her during her confrontation with her past trauma.

“My father was a monster.” Azula grimaced, basking in the feeling of Y/N’s touch. The feeling of being so close, yet so far from the girl she was painfully in love with. “Their love wasn’t real, and I fear I’m so similar to my father that it’ll never be real for me either.”

Y/N gasped in disbelief. “Love is for anyone, ‘Zula. You just need to believe that one day, it’ll find you when you least expect it.”

Azula shook her head, refusing to face the fact that she had her love right in front of her. Someone who would care for her and understand her throughout all of her outbreaks and dilemmas. Someone that would choose her everyday, as long as she’d let her. 

“That’s unfortunate then.” Azula pried her hand from Y/N’s, shivering at the overwhelming feeling of emptiness. “Because I don’t believe in love.”

With that, Y/N was speechless. She’d expected something from Azula. Anything to affirm her suspicions that her crush was in love with her as well—but all she’d gotten in return was an answer even worse than rejection.

Azula groaned, sitting up from the floor and tucking her knees into her chest. “What about you? Have you ever been in love?”

Y/N took a minute to contemplate what she had asked. Azula mentally counted down the seconds of silence that followed her out-of-character question. 

“I think that I have.” Y/N pondered, lacing her own fingers together over her stomach. “But lately I’ve realized that they’ll never feel the same.”

“It’s about time that I move on, isn’t it?”

Azula barely heard the last words Y/N whispered under her breath. Her voice was so faint, it sounded like nothing but an echo in the void. She could tell that Y/N was frowning, but Azula had no idea how to make her smile.

And words couldn’t describe how much Azula loved her smile. There was nothing that she loved more to see. That bright, beaming grin and the gorgeous girl behind it—that girl always being Y/N.

Year three, day eighty-seven.

Azula stretched her arms above her head, the bright sun radiating beams of light around her. She felt a genuine grin spread across her face, brightening her features with honest happiness.

She’d just recently been given the privilege to roam the palace ground freely, and had chosen to spend every single day of the past week in the garden courtyard.

Being surrounded by the tall cherry blossom trees, the whistling birds, and the frail little turtle ducks gave Azula a sense of nostalgia that she never knew she had missed.

She used to shun the memories and longings of her past friends and family members, refusing to accept the fact that she had been the true problem in their relationship troubles. That she had caused all of their strife. 

But now, with the new idea of freedom on Azula’s mind, she finally understood how terrible she’d been. How unfairly she’d treated her peers and the people who had offered her guidance. She vowed to herself to never become that person again, that monster.

“Enjoying the warm weather?” Y/N called from the entrance of the courtyard, a large picnic basket in hand. 

Azula spun to face her friend, laughing at the sight of the mess Y/N had brought with her. She ran over to the girl, instantly taking a hold of the supplies she’d been lugging around with her.

Y/N smiled at Azula, overwhelmed with joy at the sight of her unprovoked helpfulness. She walked with the firebender, taking a seat in their usual spot under the largest pink tree.

She and Azula had grown in indescribable ways in the past years of knowing each other. They’d gone from nothing but strangers, to somewhat friends, and now best friends. 

Azula knew in her heart that Y/N was the only person who was real in her life. The only one who knew her in a way where she didn’t automatically shy away from the boldness and arguably maniacal tendencies Azula had.

She knew that if she ever really had a chance at love, it was with Y/N.

Which was the reason why today was so special for Azula. It was the day that she was planning to finally confess and accept the undeniable love and adoration that she held for Y/N.

“I hope you brought actual food,” Azula ripped off the lid of the basket, peering inside to find all of her favorite desserts made by the kitchen staff. She stuck her hand inside, grabbing a small fruit tart covered in bright red frosting.

“This is so much better than that garbage you gave me the first day we met.”

Y/N bursted out laughing, clutching her chest as her teeth sparkled in the sunlight. She scoffed, stealing the tart out of Azula’s hand, before taking a bite of it herself.

“Sorry, your majesty.” She rolled her eyes in amusement, giggling at Azula’s reaction to her thievery. “I wasn’t exactly allowed to choose what the Princess of the Fire Nation could eat.”

Azula smirked, shooting a short line of fire towards the delicacy in Y/N’s palm, scorching the remainder of the tart and obliterating it to ashes. “Don’t steal my food.”

Y/N blew the dust off of her lap, shaking down her body before smacking Azula’s shoulder. “Well, don’t set my food on fire.”

The two girls glared at each other, refusing to break eye contact in an unspoken staring contest. Y/N struggled to match Azula’s stone cold gaze, blinking hard before being overcome with a fit of giggles. 

Azula felt her cheeks flush red as her crush’s head fell into her lap. She gazed down on the hysterical girl, holding her cheeks between her hands. Before she could speak, Azula saw someone standing in the corner of her eye.

She looked up to find her Fire Lord brother shyly waving at them, one hand raised in the air while the other disappeared in the pockets of his grand robes. 

Her relationship with Zuko had greatly improved since the beginning of their arrangement. While she used to loathe the sight of his scarred face, now she had grown to find comfort in it. They’d finally become the family they should’ve always been.

“Zuzu?” Azula called out, confused as to why her brother was interrupting her time with Y/N. In all the time she’d spent with Zuko, he’d never been around when Y/N was there. “What is it that you need, brother?”

Zuko shrugged, now stuffing both hands into his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels. He stuttered for a moment before pointing at Y/N, who’d just now noticed the prince standing at the distance.

“I need to speak with Y/N,” Zuko slightly chuckled, biting his lip as he tried to suppress a grin. “I have some business that we need to cover, it’ll only take a second.”

Azula had never seen Y/N move so quickly. Her friend was there for one minute and then the next thing she knew, her lap was empty—barren from the feeling of warmth and belonging she’d felt seconds before.

She watched in confusion as Y/N stood before Zuko. Her brother and her crush spoke at a comfortable distance, not too close, but also not far enough. Azula wrinkled her nose in disgust as she saw him ruffle Y/N’s hair, an act that she thought was only reserved for her.

They continued conversing, their voices too faint for Azula to hear. As the ‘deliberation’ concluded, she sighed seeing Y/N turn away from Zuko—only to see him take ahold of her forearm, pulling her close to his body.

Zuko took one of Y/N’s hands in his, before finally revealing what he’d been hiding beneath his robes the entire time. 

He offered Y/N a rose, a somewhat crumpled rose, but a rose nonetheless. It was a soft shade of orange, the petals oozing the same effect as Zuko’s flames. Even Azula could admit that it was beautiful, more beautiful than any flower she’d ever come across.

Azula frowned at the sight of her crush’s red cheeks. Why doesn’t Y/N have that reaction to her compliments anymore?

The princess internally gagged as Y/n reached up to wrap her arms around Zuko’s neck, pulling him into a tight hug before pressing a light kiss to his cheek. She waved a quick goodbye to him and skipped towards Azula, tripping over countless stones on her way back.

She plopped down onto the ground, delicately holding the large rose in her hands. Azula noticed the smooth stem of the flower, free of thorns and pain.

“I see you and my brother have quite a bit of explaining to do.” Azula deadpanned, dreading to hear what Y/N could possibly have to say about the kiss she shared with Zuko. 

Y/N huffed out a puff of air, pushing away the loose strands of hair that were blowing around her forehead. She sat back against the cherry blossom tree, a lovestruck grin stretched across her face. 

“I’d meant to tell you earlier, ‘Zula.” She explained, twiddling the rose between her fingers. “A lot earlier actually—months ago, even.”

“Zuko and I ran into each other on my way to your room one day, and we just really clicked.”

Y/N felt her heart pounding in her chest, not from nerves but from the love that she felt for the kind Fire Lord. “We’ve been seeing each other since then and I think it’s going really well.”

“I think I’m in love with him.”

Azula felt her heart drop in that moment. She’d been anticipating a confession for the entirety of the day, though that confession was not the one she’d had in mind. 

Heartbreak was an unfamiliar feeling for Azula. Sure, she’d felt loneliness and emptiness before, but never this. She’d never known the true and utter despair of losing the one that you love to someone else. Someone that is undeniably better in every way.

Azula knew she’d never shine in comparison to Zuko in this new world—but she had thought that she was the diamond to Zuko’s rock in Y/N’s eyes.

But perhaps she was nothing more than a friend in the eyes of Y/N.

Year four, day two-hundred and two.

“I have news!” Y/N sprinted down the beach, sand flying everywhere as she giddily ran towards Azula. “Big big news that you’ll love to know!”

Azula raised an eyebrow at Y/N’s natural chaos, she’d never seen her so utterly unruly and dismantled. What could possibly cause her to act this way?

By the time she reached the seashore, Y/N was out of breath. She collapsed onto the sand, shrieking as the tide came in and brushed against her bare feet.

“Calm down, crazy! Don’t get that debris all over my new swimsuit!” Azula shouted, confused by how jumpy she was acting.

The only other time Y/N had come close to acting this way was when she and Azula had gone to see the famous play rights in the Fire Nation colonies, and ended up laughing at all of the ridiculousness they displayed.

“Sorry, sorry!” Y/N laughed, shaking the sand out of her clothes and hair. The state of being she was in reminded her of their early days together. Specifically the day Y/N had given Azula her favorite gift ever.

The budding rose covered in thorns.

“I’m just so excited.” Y/N went on and on describing her joy, her hands were waving in the air dramatically gesturing here and there to absolutely nothing. Azula wasn’t even listening to whatever she was saying, just admiring how pretty she looked in the sun.

“Take a breath, it’s not like we don’t have all day.” Azula chimed in, stopping Y/N from completely combusting with energy. She patted the seat next to her, nodding in approval as the girl she loved gladly took the spot.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Azula’s waist, laying on the towel beside her. She hummed in content at the platonic gesture she was showing her friend. Azula however was racing at Y/N’s touch, confused by the intimacy of it all.

Azula shrugged off her feelings, instead choosing to trace circles over Y/N’s back. Easing the girl out of her excitement and into a state of quietness and relaxation. 

Silence overtook the two girls, the only sound being the splashing waves upon the nation’s coast. Azula stared blankly at the soft currents, seeing them rise and fall over the shoreline. She wished she could come and go like them.

That way she wouldn’t have to witness first hand the love between Y/N and Zuko. The love between the girl she saw as her soulmate and her own brother.

“Zuko proposed.” Y/N whispered, an unintentional smile gracing her lips. The unconditional love she felt for him was so visible, the perfect stranger would be able to pick up on it. “And I said yes.”

Azula swallowed hard, feeling tears prickling the corners of her eyes. She let the waterworks drip down her cheeks, feeling like a run down battery with no energy left to hide her sadness. 

Y/N sat up, startled by the sparse water droplets hitting the back of her neck. She gasped, concerned by Azula’s obviously helpless emotional state. She reached up, taking Azula’s face in her hands while wiping her tears away.

“What’s wrong?” She asked in concern, doing her best to comfort the crying girl. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against Azula’s in an attempt to hold her close. “It’s alright, ‘Zula. You can tell me anything.”

“You know that I’m always here for you.”

In the storm of confusion and sadness that was raging in Azula’s mind, she did the one thing that she had promised herself she’d never do. She followed through with her own selfish wish of jeopardizing Zuko and Y/N’s relationship.

Y/N’s eyes opened wide in shock as Azula’s lips touched her own. 

The firebender poured all of her emotions into the one-sided kiss, not realizing that Y/N was unresponsive. The latter girl was frozen in place, trying her best to process what was exactly happening in the moment.

She’d dreamt of this moment, the time where Azula would finally admit that she had feelings for her too—but she hadn’t had those dreams in years. Those dreams had ended once Azula had said that love wasn’t real.

As Azula pulled away, tears still dripping down her chin, Y/N had a look of bitterness on her face. Her normally beautiful and positive features were overcome with anger and distrust.

“Why would you do that?” She cried, her eyes turning bloodshot red. Y/N stood hastily, backing away from her friend, holding her hands in front of her to show that she didn’t want Azula following her. “You know you shouldn’t have done that.”

Azula screamed in frustration as she watched Y/N storm away back in the direction of the palace. She grabbed fist-fulls of sand, flinging them at the sea and shooting blasts of blue fire in the air. 

She had perhaps ruined the best friendship she’d had in her entire life. All because she couldn’t keep her love to herself. Her true and overwhelming love for Y/N.

Year five, the last day.

“Are you prepared, Princess Azula?”

Azula stared into the mirror in front of her, seeing nothing but a coward in her reflection. She nodded absentmindedly to the servant that was serving her, doing her hair, dressing her, whatever it was that servants do.

She ordered her to leave the room, wishing to be alone for the remainder of the time she had to herself. There was a big event today, the biggest in the entire Fire Nation.

It was the wedding of the Fire Lord and his bride-to-be.

Azula would be lying to herself if she said that she hadn’t been dreading this day ever since Y/N had told her about the engagement that day on the beach—for that was the last day she’d even spoken to Y/N.

The former best friends hadn’t seen each other in months. Not because they were too busy or forgetful, but because Azula was too embarrassed to contact the girl. She was ashamed of her actions and regretted them wholeheartedly.

After all that time in the dark, Azula was shocked that she’d gotten an invitation to their ceremony. She didn’t think they’d want her present after what she’d done.

But here she was, all dolled up to watch the woman she loved marry the man she’d always been jealous of. Zuko had their mother’s love, the honor she’d always wanted, and the person she was supposed to spend her life with.

Sure his life had been nothing but hard since the minute he was born, but in the end Zuko was the better one out of the two of them. He was the one who was truly deserving of all of the power and glory that was their birthright. 

Azula glared at herself in the mirror’s glass, remembering the last time she’d looked at her reflection in such a distraught mood. She shook her head at the memory, choosing instead to pull open the small drawer of her vanity.

Inside was a long and thin wooden box, locked with a golden pad. She took the necklace tucked into her dress and fit the key charm into the socket, twisting it open.

Her hands reached into the keepsake, carefully gripping the decaying rose from its hiding place.

For four years she’d had the gift, and in those four years Azula had managed to find help from the plantbenders of the swamp to discover a way to keep the rose alive. 

However she’d become careless after her falling out with Y/N, forgetting completely about the flower, only remembering its existence in that very moment.

She spun the flower in her palms, wincing at the prickling feeling of the small thorns on the side. The rose still hadn’t bloomed, she’d told the plantbenders that she preferred it that way no matter their interjections.

Azula wanted to have the gift exactly how Y/N had meant it for her, it was more meaningful that way.

Fire raced up the stem of the rose, encasing the wilting petals in flames. Azula watched intensely as the flower turned to nothing more than ash and dust, all that was left was the four thorns she’d chosen to spare.

She poured the little dust she had back into the box, locking it with her necklace before taking the thorns with her and out the door. She was running on a tight schedule and wouldn’t for the life of her, miss the wedding.

The ceremony had begun beautifully. Romantic music surrounded the guests, filling their ears with the selection of tunes that Zuko and Y/N had hand picked. Orange roses erupted from the vases and archways in the courtyard, reminding Azula of her fateful picnic with Y/N.

She clutched the thorns in her palm at the thought of her, telling herself that this was always meant to happen.

Y/N deserved someone like Zuko. Someone good and loving, someone who would never turn their back on her. She was deserving of the entire world, and Azula never would’ve been able to give that to her.

She wasn’t meant to have Y/N’s love. She’d always known that, and now it was just time for her to accept it, move on, and cut her ties. Her future was nearing, and her new sister-in-law was not a part of it. 

Perhaps this was a positive, a truly good thing to come from the constant struggle that she’d faced since childhood.

After all, she could finally leave her prison. Abandon her memories in replace of new ones where she wasn’t the fire princess, where she was simply Azula—just Azula.

TAGS: @practicallylivesonline @cherryskyies @shell-bells-ringding @xapham @mochminnie @lammello​ @bombardia​

#azula x reader #azula #azula imagine #azula imagines #azula oneshot #azula fic #azula fanfic #azula fanfiction #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #zuko imagines #zuko oneshot #zuko fic #zuko fanfic #zuko fanfiction #zuko #atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #the last airbender #last airbender #iroh #uncle iroh #fire nation #firebending #firebender #firebenders #angst

[lunarflux]

han jisung x reader / femme o/c

genre — fluff

cafe!au pt 2

suggested background music: x

9:59pm

Like clockwork, Jisung switched off the lights to The Rose Room. The quaint little cafe he owned with a friend seemed to have the most solemn atmosphere just before closing, and tonight was no exception. The red glow from the streetlights danced along the freshly polished floor like a night light. It was time to lock up and head home.

Jisung polished off the last of his coffee, forever regretting how much caffeine he continuously consumed just before he had to sleep. All the part-timers had gone home for the night, and the only company left in his coffee house was the sound of flickering lights and a symphony of car horns from down the road.

10:05pm

Jisung had his key in the door, but in his head, he was counting down.

Ten seconds.

With a deep breath, he heard the gears click together, and right on time, there she was.

Hyacinth & Holly - that was the name of the flower shop across the way. Jisung had his routine locked down that by the time the doors had shut, you were about to walk out.

Always carrying a fresh bouquet of blue hydrangeas, there you were. Locking up your own little kingdom of hues and aromas, you turned and gave him a small wave.

This was the routine that Jisung always looked forward to at the end of the day - seeing you even if for a moment. You both always walked in opposite directions, but that simple five seconds of eye contact were enough to make him forget his fatigue.

One day, he'll talk to you.

One day.

But this is not that day.

Jisung turned his heel, knowing you'd easily turn yours away from him. The walk back to his apartment was always quiet, but lately, it was even more solemn.

Hyunjin, your last-minute roommate had moved out last week to live with his girlfriend. It was just one less person he interacted with during the day, and it was only then that he realized, he didn't really talk to that many people.

In his head, he would imagine you walking through the doors of the Rose Room.

Strawberry latte? Iced rose tea? - He would guess your favorite drinks in the hopes that one day, you'd walk in, and he could surprise you.

Hyunjin used to tease him.

"Just go over there on your break. You're never gonna know her name unless you just talk to her."

Jisung scoffed at the thought of that conversation, remembering how it took over a month for Hyunjin to confess his own feelings. Then again, the flower shop opened up a few months ago, and still he hasn't spoken to you.

One day.

**

Jisung walked into the Rose Room at 2:00pm.

An unfamiliar vase with two massive sunflowers sat on the bar top.

"What's this?" He picked up one of the yellow stalks and prodded it with a small smile on his face.

Jeongin continued to work on his Americano. "The girl from the shop across the street dropped it off this morning. She said someone canceled their order, and she'd already clipped the stems so it'd be a waste not to put them out."

Jisung felt the lump in his throat expand. She had been in here.

"I was gonna bring her a drink to say thanks, but I didn't ask what she liked." Jeongin slipped off his apron. "I figured an Americano would be okay -"

"I'll do it." Jisung interrupted. "But give that to the next customer, I'll make something."

**

Carrying a small plastic lunch bag, Jisung steadied himself. The strawberries in the sandwich he made had to stay pristine. Paired with the rose tea, he made his way over to the storefront, ready to be either rejected or welcomed.

"Hello!" A part-timer greeted, the name 'Yeji' scribbled on her name tag. "Can I help you?"

"Um -" The familiar lump in his throat was back. "Th-The girl who brought the sunflowers. Is she here?"

Yeji tilted her head, looking over to the sunflowers behind Jisung, not realizing the amount had been altered. "That might have been my boss? But she isn't here."

"Oh." Jisung was almost relieved.

"Is that for her?" Yeji motioned towards the lunch bag.

"No - I mean, yes, but -"

"She'll be back later. She only came in to help prepare an order, but she closes usually." Yeji said with a smile. "Do you want me to leave that in the back -"

"No!" Jisung nearly screamed. "I mean, no, no, I'll come back. If... that's okay?"

The surprised girl nodded quietly.

**

9:48pm

The strawberries in the sandwich got soggy and the rose tea watered down. Jisung slumped his head over the counter, still cringing from today's interaction with the girl who very well knows his crush and could easily ruin his chances.

Why am I so awkward?

Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward, peering out into the street. He didn't know if you were there. He didn't even know if he could muster up the same courage to go back.

Jisung reached for the door, tempted to just run over if only to catch you before you closed up, but before he could, you emerged.

Holding his breath, he watched as you walked outside - but not alone.

You were with someone. A guy. He patted your head, and you smiled back.

Jisung's grip on the door handle pushed the blood from his knuckles. It was too good to be true. He waited too long.

And just like that, he felt his heart drop into his stomach. He didn't even know you, yet he already felt that familiar pang of sadness and disappointment. It wasn't as if he was craving a relationship, and perhaps, he had built you up too much in his head. He didn't know your name or your favorite color. He didn't know the music you liked to listen to on your way to work or the sound of your laugh. He really didn't know anything, and seeing this solidified that thought.

You were a stranger after all.

**

Hyunjin and his girlfriend, the day manager left together today, but not before trying to talk Jisung out of his mood.

"You know that might not be her boyfriend," she shook her head. "Don't jump to conclusions."

"What other guy would meet up with her that late at night?" Hyunjin rolled his eyes. "If you were the closing manager, you know I'd show up to walk you home."

Jisung cringed, seeing the couple exchange loving glances.

"We're just saying not to give up. You can't wait forever."

They weren't wrong. It seemed better to try now and get rejected than to wait and wonder.

**

9:59pm

It seemed automatic now. The counting. Only now, he didn't really know what he was counting down to.

Jisung heaved a heavy sigh as he inserted his key.

9

8

7

"Are you closed?"

5

Wait.

Jisung nearly stumbled down from the small ledge of the door.

There you were. Apron and purse in one hand a fresh bouquet of blue hydrangeas in the other.

"Yeah, we closed -" He cleared his throat. "We closed - I mean, we close at 9:30."

"Oh." You almost looked upset. "I'm sorry, I'm just so used to seeing you leave after ten, so I wasn't sure. I always wake up too late to come here before my shift, and you guys are always so busy.

Jisung put his key back in the lock without thinking. Opening the door, he held his breath.

"I can make you something."

**

You swung your legs under the seat. Jisung quietly steeped the same kind of rose tea he wanted to give to you before. Glancing over, he could see one of the last strawberry sandwiches of the day as if it had been waiting for him to reenter.

"Do you always work late?"

He heard your small voice over the counter. Walking up, you joined him so that the only thing between you was marble. Jisung nodded, setting the glass of tea and sandwich in front of you.

"Yeji told me you stopped by yesterday. I'm sorry, I missed you."

"It's fine." He could feel the cold sweat on the back of his neck. "I would have brought it later, but your boyfriend was there."

"Ex."

"Ex?"

"Ex." You smiled, quietly sipping your tea with a blissful sigh he'd never seen before. "Dropping off my spare work key. I'd forgotten it when I moved out last month."

Ex. Her ex boyfriend. Of course.

"Why did you break up?"

Picking at the edges of the sandwich, you shrugged. "You know how it is. Working adults not working the same schedule. I like working the night shifts. I like closing the store. And he hated how many hydrangeas I brought home. Said it made the apartment smell too much."

"I think they're pretty. The blue ones."

As if you'd forgotten the color already, you giggled. "They're my favorite."

"Mine, too." Jisung could feel the air lessen.

"I can bring you some tomorrow if you'd like."

"That'd be nice." He smiled, genuinely for the first time in what seemed like a long time. "If you want, I could -" He caught himself.

You nodded towards him, midway through your sandwich.

Punching his leg, Jisung quietly scolded himself. "If you want... I could walk you to work. I'd like to see you - the flowers, I mean, and everything tomorrow. Y'know. Before it gets dark."

"You'd wake up early for flowers?"

"W-Well, yes, and I need to wake up earlier anyway - I drink too much caffeine at work, and I need to stop sleeping so late, and -"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'd like that," you beamed.

Jisung almost choked. "I'm sorry, it's just. Well. I don't even know your name."

"y/n." You poked his cheek. "All you had to do was ask."

#stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #han fluff #jisung fluff #han jisung fluff #han jisung #skz fluff #han x reader #han x you #han x y/n #han x oc #han x o/c #skz scenarios #skz imagines #kpop fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #one shot #jisung x you #jisung x reader #han jisung x reader #cafe!au #fluff #skz

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Wrath and Rage

Wrath x reader

Word Count: 1762

Summary: Wrath already had a queen when he was summoned to Emilia’s side. Needless to say she wasn’t happy about his absence. 

Note: He’s hot, and I had a plot bunny. don’t worry about it

You didn’t bother to hide the laugh that bubbled up from your throat at what your husband just told you. “So you got spooked and dropped your knife, is that it?”

Those golden eyes of his seemed to glow with irritation as he looked over at you. “Well, I don’t exactly want humans to know I’m around, now do I?”

This time you scoffed. “If some little witch managed to figure out that she’d just laid eyes on Prince Wrath himself based on that teensy little interaction, I’d want to meet her and shake her hand.”

“But the knife--”

“Is no indication of who you are on its own, and you damn well know it.” You slid your hands down the front of his shirt, fingers deftly opening it button by button. “Relax, my darling. You’ve been running around like a chicken with your head cut off about this whole Pride thing for so long. I’ve hardly seen you in weeks.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s a lie, and you know it.”

You did. The trips never took very long at all, after all, but you still missed him. Before this it’d been centuries since he’d been away from you in the human world for any real length of time. “Be that as it may . . .” You slid the shirt off of him and allowed your fingers to trail down the golden snake on his left arm, a mark that had an exact twin on your own skin. “All you have to do,” you kissed that shoulder, “in order to keep Pride’s whole search,” this kiss was to his neck, “a secret,” jaw, “is get it back before the little witch does anything stupid.” That last bit was whispered next to his ear.

Then his lips were suddenly on yours, as demanding as ever as he shoved you against the wall. He tugged at the laces to your pants while his lips moved to your neck.

“See what you miss when you’re--” your teasing voice cut off when the heat of his body suddenly disappeared, “gone.” You opened your eyes. Sure enough, Wrath was nowhere to be found. Anger flared through you, its presence making the shadows writhe around you.

The only reason he would leave like that would be a summoning, something out of his control. And the only person dumb enough to summon a prince of Hell would be that. Fucking. Witch. Rage, the emotion your power stemmed from, swelled throughout your body.

She will pay for this.

~

Little did you know that in the human realm, your husband was thinking something similar. 

The combination of Emilia’s staring and the searing mark that’d appeared on his normally-clear arm set his teeth on edge. It shouldn’t be possible, a second betrothal spell in addition to the already fulfilled one he had with you--willingly, he might add--; yet there it was. Moon-shaped and clashing with his color scheme.

Still, he didn’t let on to what it truly meant. Odds were good that it wouldn’t amount to anything anyway, especially if he had a say. And if it did . . . Heaven help the woman that had to face the ire of the Queen of House Wrath.

~

In your time spent forcefully separated from each other, you and Wrath found yourselves weaving a complicated web to end this stupid endeavor in your favor, not the way Emilia wanted. And as soon as she agreed to marry Pride, your victory was sealed. Hours before that, when he’d died in the human realm, Wrath explained fully what had been going on since the messengers that’d been frantically flitting between you two could only convey so much, and you’d spent the time planning the final pieces of this battle of wits.

And enjoying each other’s company, but that was neither here nor there.

When it came time for Wrath to retrieve her, you lounged on the bed as he dressed, crown and all. “You can’t kill her when we return,” Wrath was saying while you watched him.

Your eyes moved to stare hatefully where their mark of betrothal used to reside. “I am aware,” you bit out.

“Are you?” There was an evil little smirk on his face when he turned to look at you. “Because your shadow seems to have other ideas.”

Sure enough, when you glanced down you saw that your shadow seemed to be holding a knife. Always the cause of your bad poker face, that thing. With a flare of gold in your eyes, you brought the shadow back under control, and it resumed being a silhouetted version of you, nothing more. The frown that’d been on your face since this mess started though, that stayed stubbornly in place.

Wrath took that as his cue to sweep closer elegantly, fingers trailing lightly down the golden body of the snake on your arm. “I swore to you the day we married that no one would ever come between us, did I not?”

“You did.” And Hell if your voice didn’t sound sullen despite yourself. You wanted to be unbothered by this. Truly, you did. But it was just so . . . unsettling to hear that someone had (however ignorantly) tried to steal him from you.

His free hand drifted over to grab the crown that still rested on the duvet. Your crown. The match to his own with spikes sharp enough to kill a man if you so chose. “Have I ever given reason for you to doubt that vow?”

“You haven’t.” That was true. A demon like Lust might have warranted such a fear, but Wrath was another kind of beast, an honest one. At least when it mattered. Mattered to you, that is. A warmth settled in your chest as your fingers moved to lightly hold his.

“Then why are you doubting me now?” his lips were pressed to your temple and he placed the crown on your head as he murmured the question.

Moments like this you remembered why you married him with perfect clarity. For the first time since he was stolen weeks ago a heat other than rage burned through you like a flashfire. “It’s not that I doubt you,” you said, turning so you could see his fierce, golden eyes. “It’s that I hate her.”

“Soon enough she will be Pride’s problem,” he soothed, “not ours.”

“Good,” you snarled before sealing your lips against his.

~

If Wrath’s lips were swollen suspiciously when he stepped out of the shadows to bring her to Pride, Emilia couldn’t work up the courage to comment on it. She was already in this mess with these demons so much deeper than she ever expected; she didn’t think her heart could take the stress of picking that particular fight on top of everything else. Besides, they weren’t bonded anymore; it wasn’t any of her business who he did or didn’t kiss.

Still, for some reason her heart stung at the thought of him with someone else after all they’d been through together.

But then they were bantering like it was all normal.

And then she was trying to scream in agony as it felt like someone lit her soul ablaze.

And then they were standing in a throne room steeped in black and gold and red.

This wasn’t House Pride, she realized abruptly. These were Wrath’s colors through and through.

“You’ll have to forgive the brief stop here,” a woman’s voice called Emilia’s attention to the front of the room. She was beautiful. Leather pants, a billowing shirt, boots that looked artfully worn-in, all steeped in nothing but black. The only spot of color in her wardrobe was the golden crown atop her head. A flash of gold on the back of her hand drew Emilia’s attention. “A prince of Hell like my husband can only travel directly from the human realm to his home. An envoy from Pride awaits outside to escort you to your Betrothed.”

Emilia’s ears started and were still ringing at the word ‘husband’ by the time she finished talking. The gold she’d noticed on her hand. It was an exact copy of the snake she’d seen on Wrath’s body the night she summoned him. Confusion lanced through her. “What--”

You laughed, cutting her off. This was rich. “You never stopped to wonder what the mark on his other arm was?” You rose from your seat, shadows coiling around your feet menacingly. “You’re dumber than I thought.”

Emilia could only stare at the approaching figure, alarmed by the casual display of power as well as the pitch black veil surrounding her that was every bit as threatening as the black and gold one around Wrath. She had to fight to retain any form of dignity and stay carefully neutral-faced when Wrath’s hand settled on the woman’s lower back in a display so casual it couldn’t have been faked.

“How terrible to meet you,” you scoffed. “You can call me Rage.”

A fitting emotion for such a terrifying queen, Emilia supposed.

“I think it goes without saying that if I ever see you lurking around my husband again, not even your betrothal to my brother-in-law will save you.”

Said husband had a look of evil smugness on his handsome face that made Emilia recoil a little. Then a thought occurred to her. “If you already have a queen, then why--”

“Was everyone pushing me to make it official with you?” Wrath cut her off, one eyebrow arching. “That answer is quite simple if you think about it.”

“Which is exactly why she hasn’t figured it out,” you smirked. “They don’t like me because I’m not intimidated by them just existing as princes of Hell.” You turned to face Wrath, loving the automatic way his eyes trailed over your form heatedly. He’d been worked up since the two of you dressed; there hadn’t been time to burn off some of the aggression that danced within both of you. “ Now,” you addressed her even as your hand moved to cup his face, thumb skimming along his cheekbone appreciatively, “you’ve robbed me of Wrath here for quite long enough on top of forcing me to singlehandedly deal with the idiocy of lower demons. You’re lucky I don’t kill you for the former, and I hate you even more for the latter, so kindly get the hell out of House Wrath.”

You didn’t spare the girl a glance as a guard moved to escort her out. No, you only had eyes for your husband . . . at least until your eyes closed when you dragged him down for a bruising kiss.

#wrath x reader #wrath imagine #prince wrath x reader #prince wrath imagine #kingdom of the wicked imagine #reader insert

[mydayserenade]

Pretty Please?

> San x OC!

> rom, fluff, ig slice of life?

> setting: flower shop

> Florist San is involved in this fic (i have very little knowledge on how to take care of flowers so please do correct me)

> Flower language is used here so I will Italicize the flowers being used that are important in the story and will be leaving a little definition thread at the bottom of this fic! However if my meanings are wrong, feel free to correct me as I am not an expert in this type of field.

> reversed roles! the girl is going to chase after the guy this time ;) just something new to meddle with heehee.

fic inspiration!

"Mr. Evan definitely picked the right flower, I've always liked Yarrows." San ties his pink and white bouquet with a pastel pink, silky ribbon to top off the whole flower arrangement his client requested. He carries the flowers delicately and lightly places it inside a clear, plastic box with a name embelished on top of it; he grabs his marker and bites off the cap to write the shipping details the client left for him, hastely jotting down the phone number and name before he gives it to the delivery man with a 90 degree bow. In the midst of San's work, Miya struggles to pierce a single stem through the foam, grunting and aggressively cutting the ends of the flower more and more without caution or direction. In the reflection of the windows that San was standing next to, he catches Miya in the act and immediately rushes over to her, pulling away the foam, tulip and scissors she had been wrestling with for the past 30 minutes and already at its ugliest form.

"You can never own a flower shop... actually scratch that, you can never take care of plants." San pants rapidly and hugs the items in a protective matter, trying his best to see if he can still resurrect the almost wilted tulip in his grasp. Miya launches herself off the marble counter, bringing along the stacked papers San had given to her about the lessons and and procedures about flower arrangements, she looks at the frantic black haired boy with an eyebrow raise as he places the items back on the counter and packing the tulip in a vacuumed pack for freeze-drying, ensuring that the tulip still had use and a life to work with.

"I was just following what was instructed San, I'm really trying my best to do whatever you taught me."

"Well I didn't teach you to neglect their existence did I?"

"No, but I'm really trying though! That whole thing was unintentional." she sighs and throws her head back in agony, "I don't even know why I agreed to this deal, more so I don't even know why I'm allowing you to tell me what to do."

"Cause you want to date me that's what Lee Miya."

It was no secret she liked the handsome florist the minute she walked into his store to buy a basket of Angelicas for Mother's Day but thought it was only infatuated love. He was broad, tall, respectful, had a cheery smile that can swoon millions and a voice as addicting as candy, Miya was head over heels... actually more like "whipped" for this guy. That is why every day she would always find an excuse to visit his store even if there wasn't any special occasion for her to attend to or bring flowers for. It was strange for San at first, thinking how weird for this woman to show up 7 days a week just to stop by and create a conversation but he eventually caught on despite her not ordering anything from him on those days. San did not mind that at all however and would always enjoy her company while he works, sharing many life stories and interests that made their bond stronger than ever and eventually catch feelings for one another more and more.

Miya blushed, uttering words out to try and become sarcastic towards him but was completely shut down due to being delirious and flustered by San's straightforward reply. He laughed, clearly amused on how she was acting in front of him, San watched as Miya stormed out in a speed of light, smiling widely at how childish she was and proceeded to finish up the last order of the day.

Problem is however; despite the romantic emotions she had for him and is reciprocated to her, deep down inside the fiery exterior of hers, she was always afraid of this one thing and one thing only. Commitment. Miya never envisioned herself to allow someone come in her life nor bind to anyone romantically, she would always think negatively of the end results in a relationship and be in her head too much about these things causing a slim chance of actually giving dating a shot most especially considering she was already so fond of San and confessed to him. The more she felt that she wanted to be with him the more her insides felt that this was not the best decision and she'll end up regretting everything, but San was supporting her all throughout, giving her enough time to make the right choice and helping her get over her slump. Until one day Miya had created a proposal not only to challenge herself but to create a special bond between them as lovers that San had excitingly agree to, which was to teach Miya the ways and hows of flower arrangement. Their deal was that once Miya perfected one of the many flower arrangements she had chosen and that San approved of this, she already had let go of her fear of commitment and that she was ready to start a journey with him.

Miya unlocks the door to her apartment, still in a daze regarding the events that transpired in San's flower shop. She shakes off her shoes and settles in her trusted friend, the couch; dropping the stack of papers she had brought home for her to scan through beside her. Miya takes a sharp sigh and looks over to the clock, "10:00, seems like a good time to get things going." She launches herself off the couch, washing up and getting dressed comfortably for tonight's business, Miya goes inside her stock room to look for the needed materials, collecting them one by one and proceeding to drop them off the rustic chest-designed coffee table. Once she had obtained her needed equipment, she ties her hair in a ponytail, stretches out her hands and plops down on the carpet to begin her personal project.

The next day...

"Hey Miya! Over here!" A brunette shouted and popped his head out amongst the crowd of people in the cafe and waves excitingly, she rushes over to him and afterwards he offered the warm seat next to him. Seonghwa, a trusted colleague of San's who normally visits the shop to check the freshest flowers every now and then.

"So so so sorry for running late Seonghwa, traffic was shit as always." she pants, slouching in the sofa and putting aside her bag on top of the wooden table.

"No it's fine, I just got here 15 minutes ago. I ordered us a fruit ade if that's alright?"

Miya nods while silent, clearly exhausted from the marathon she had to endure to be able to reach Seonghwa as soon as she can. The waitress lays down the ades in their table, Miya immediately grabs the drink and starts to slurp the ombre-pink drink, almost finishing it within a minute while Seonghwa was just about to sip and was clearly baffled at the sight in front of him and how dehydrated she was. She sighs in relief and starts to sit up straight in her chair, signalling Seonghwa to start the conversation.

"So tell me, why are you doing this?"

"You know exactly why Seonghwa, I need to prove something to him."

"Is this about the whole arrangement you guys have? Oh wait sorry not arrangement, that's too decent of a word... proposal?"

"Yep"

"And you want to do this because it's part of your scheme?

"Mhm"

"You know San gets up pretty early to prepare for the day right?"

She just nods and nods, clearly sick of hearing Seonghwa shooting a ton of questions towards her like she was being interrogated.

"Are you trying to create a revenge plan? What gives?"

Miya rolls her eyes towards Seonghwa's never-ending queries and deafening nagging. "No sir, I am not." she breathes deeply and lets out a huge sigh, massaging the temples of her head. "Look, it's not like I'm gonna commit arson or some shit that can put me in trouble. I'm telling you I have no bad intentions, just simply a little surprise I have for him. Have a little faith in me please? Mr. Park?"

"Fine." he rummages through his leather bag and pulls out a velvet box containing the item Miya asked him to get for her. He slides this towards her slowly, giving Miya a hesitant glare before eventually reaching it to her at her end of the table.

"Thank you."

"I don't know what you got planned but I hope he'll like it. San may look intimidating but he has a soft spot for sentimental things, most especially the things that are dear to him." Seonghwa said, making Miya's head perk up from her bag. She smiles, giving assurance that everything was going to be fine. "Good luck by the way" he said as Miya stood up from her seat to leave, "hope the hassle is worth it". "I hope so too" she mumbled and bid farewell to Seonghwa before she left to go continue her business on the outside.

A week later...

It was a bright and summery morning for San as he hummed along the sidewalk heading towards his shop, even if it was just an ordinary day for him, he still feels uneasy towards the sudden ghosting of Miya. The many times of him calling, texting, basically anything to reach her, have always resulted to no one answering. This went on for a week after their confrontation in the store and yet here he was, without even a single tip about her whereabouts. So he just thought of ways and reasons for her not coming so that his anxiety can at least lessen even if he was worried sick about her well-being. Lost in his thoughts about Miya, he didn't take notice that he finally reached the back part of the building.

He reaches in the pot of the fern, digging around to find the key to this door yet after a few minutes of feeling around, unfortunately, it somehow disappeared into thin air. "You have got to be kidding me" he shakes the doorknob ferociously, banging on the metal door to try and see if he can budge the locks. San swore to himself that he kept the key in the soil of the fern that was standing next to the back door of the shop and it was always in that area where it was hard for the intruders to find. He scratches the back of his head and pulls out his cellphone from his back pocket to contact anyone close to him who knows the inside and outside of his store but a few dials and miss calls later, he was sure having an unlucky day. San grunts, kicking on the door once more to release some stress before going around the block to enter through the main entrance of his store.

San reaches the main entrance and unlocks the door to his store by which he was greeted by the fragrant aroma of the lavenders that made his face lit up, completely ignoring the fiasco that happened 30 minutes ago. He approaches the staff room, settling down his personal belongings in his office and shakes off the leather jacket on him. He then proceeds to the main area of the store, grabbing his hanged brown apron to tie around his tiny waist before he starts organizing for today's orders.

"So, 8:00? What do you say Acanthus?" written in calligraphy on a basic white card with gold boarders embedded on the sides of the paper which was laid flat alongside a boquet of luscious lavander roses, valerians and baby's breath all bunched up in a laced white ribbon caught San's eye as he was laying down the equipment on the counter where the mysterious gift was. He thought at first that this was a missed order he didn't seem to finish yesterday, but knowing his work ethics he always tries his utmost best to complete every order on time. He picked these up carefully, examining the hand-writing and the way how the bouquet was created, it wasn't entirely as neat as the ones he sold but it was definitely pretty and thoughtful enough to be given to someone. He then squints his eyes to take a closer look at the flowers chosen for the bouquet, remembering what each flower represented or what message it conveyed for the receiver to decipher. A million thoughts and people raced through his mind, wondering who would've given this to him. It couldn't be one of his customers, they did not have any access to enter his store out of office hours, even his closest clients too. It couldn't be Seonghwa since he really isn't the type to use loud and vibrant colors in his flowers, San reviewed many people in his mind that he had close contact of but none did not even come close to the culprit of this bizzare situation... except for one. The corners of San's mouth slowly rises, creating an admiring grin as he finally realized who gave this to him and what they wanted to say to him through the use of flower language.

"Acanthus... I like that, seems like she studied well." he murmered, sniffing the flowers and smiling ever so vividly for her job well done and the efforts she had put into this. He now knew why Miya had ghosted him for a couple of days only to be surprised by such a gift that San will treasure for a lifetime and a memory he will never forget. "I can't wait to tell you how much I am so proud of you" he whispered, counting down the many hours he had to work for until he was able to see Miya again but this time, as a significant other.

"What a great way to start off my day."

DEFINITION FOR EACH BLOOM!

> Angelicas - inspiration

> Lavender rose - love at first sight

> Valerians - readiness

> Acanthus - a fine art

> Yarrows - everlasting love

> Baby's breath - innocence, trust

#Spotify #ateez san #san #choi san #ateez romance #ateez fluff #ateez #ateez fanfic #flowers

[xsugarysweetsx]

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 6

A/N: Characters are above the age of 18! Iwaizumi is set as 21 and, reader is 19 turning 20!!

Warnings; the fluff has arrived; maybe some tension; language 1-2 times.

Previous Next

°°°° °°°° °°°°

“So are you going to explain what’s going on or are we just making food?“ Hajime asked leaning against the counter watching Oikawa look for things in the kitchen 

“Well, yes and no. Rose and I are making cake and you are writing and Y/N a letter“

“A letter? Cake?“ Hajime was still lost as ever 

“Take this as a permanent reminder. Today is the queens birthday, and the one day you can make up for yourself.” he proclaimed. That’s right today is your 21st birthday and Oikawa saw it as the perfect opportunity for him to redeem himself. 

“Rose speaks with the queen often when she needs company and told me it was today“ Hajime turns to said girl and she gives nod to confirm 

“Rose, would you mind doing that for now on? I understand she can feel alone at times, I’m sure she appreciates your company.“

“Y-yes your majesty!“

“Now about the letter who-“

“You my good friend are writing her your feelings and you will confess to her today. If she knows where your...feelings come from then maybe you can both come to an understanding.“ he offered

“But what if she-“

“No negative talk“ Oikawa cuts him off pushing him towards the door “We don’t have much time, you need to write, and we need to set everything else up. She’ll wake up soon so be sure to greet her in the morning“

The door was shut, leaving Hajime on his own. He begins to walk to his office, everything rushing in his mind. Your argument, making a letter, and confessing would be the worst of it all

She could never forgive me after what I said to her. She must hate me, and all she was doing was helping me....no one had been that kind to me since mother was here.

Opening the door to his office he goes to the window and gazes out to the sky beginning to brighten with the sun. He goes back to his desk and sets a blank sheet of paper in front of him, a quill was ready in his hands to begin writing. 

“Dearest Y/N,I apologize-” he crumples the paper “No...Y/N my wife, I should have been more caring....no, she’ll think it’s for show.” 

Paper after paper, none of them were what he wanted to say. Nothing was working, a small pile had started to build on his desk from each failed attempt at a letter. You deserved something more than some simple words apologizing for his actions. He was just..afraid. Afraid to lose another person, afraid of being alone once gain...afraid to love. 

You made him afraid, he felt his chest flutter and constrict whenever you’d gaze into his eyes, or bring him some tea. You were the only one trying and hr felt horrible for it. The sun had already risen and you would wake up soon.

He abandons his desk and makes his way to the dinning room for breakfast. Walking down the hall and making a turn he sees you slipping out of your room. He tries waving to you but you dismiss it and keep walking. He walks a little faster and catches up to you

“How did you sleep..Y/N“ he asked 

“Fine, I still feel tired.“ you answer bluntly. He knew that falling asleep due to crying was never restful. Getting to the dinning room he pulls out your seat and pushes you in. Getting in his sweat they’re served their breakfasts and Oikawa comes in.

“Good morning your majesties, I’ve got your plans for the day and I do hope you find them relaxing” your gaze shoots up when he says those words. Taking a seat opposite from you and on the left of Hajime he begins to read the paper.

“First your breakfast, a special arrangement in the garden later in the afternoon, some horse riding later, and the rest of your day can be spent as you wish” he gives a smile and stands “enjoy your breakfast”

The chefs come a present your food in front of you. You thank them and begin eating.

“Y/N....about yesterday I-“

“There’s nothing to say. You told me what you truly thought and that was enough.” You brush it off and continue eating

Wrong approach, he thought to himself. He watches you stand and wit for him to head to the garden. You would take his arm when walking around somewhere. Yet here he was, and empty arm and a hurt heart watching you walk silently. He noticed you didn’t have you necklace on either. He raised a hand to his and felt worse than he did. This was going to be a challenge.

Getting to the garden there was a small table set for two. No paperwork, documents or anything. Just a table set for two in the shade of the garden.

“What is-“

“Let me redeem myself.” He cut you off “give me today to redeem myself to you to show you that I...I...I truly do care!”

If anything it seemed almost forced and difficult for him to say that. But this was the first attempt you’ve seen from him to try and apologize. Crossing your arms you say

“Hajime...I’m very hurt from what you said. Just what do you want to gain from this?” You asked

“You’re trust.” He said confidently “trust in two rulers keep them strong. If it means you will trust me as your king and husband, I will try.”

“Alright, and if by the end of the day I don’t feel better?” You test

“You may make any decision you wish.”

He was really giving you free range in this.

“Okay, what do you have in mind here?” You ask walking to the table and taking a seat

“Um Well, me and my mother used to play here. Even as I grew up the game never got old” he explained taking his own seat “We used to find butterflies and she would show me how to get them to land on your hand. Would you like to try?” he offered his hand and you take it.

Walking over to a bush of flowers with a sweet scent he crouches down with you. He picks one of the flowers and rubs it on your knuckles.

“Now just wait“ There before your eyes a blue butterfly lands on your hand gently flapping it’s wings. You were so mesmerized by the insect you didn’t even notice Hajime staring at you. You just looked like a little girl who was seeing magic for the first time. He gets an idea and dusts your nose with a bit of pollen. The butterfly then floats over to your nose and rests there causing a smile to spread on to your face 

“You like it?“ he asked 

“Yeah...it’s beautiful“ you smile 

“Like you..“ he said taking your hands, helping her stand up. You both stand there for a few seconds before he asks 

“What did you do for fun as a child?” he asked as you start to walk around the garden hand in hand

“W-well...me and my mother used to run around in the fields and she would tell me stories, and make flower crowns....she was my closest friend” you said nostalgically “after she past I always felt as if something was missing.“ you stopped in your tracks

 “I felt so lonely and I-I..just miss her so much, I wish I could see her again“ you sniff letting tear fall.

He had never seen you cry on top of that you sounded so broken. He knew what it was like to lose a mother so he knew what you were feeling. His words were of no use so he let his actions speak. He pulls you into his chest and pats your back, he was never good at comfort but he might as well try

“If you feel like you need to talk to someone I-I’m always open, ya know“ he said as a blush crept to his cheeks. “C-come on.“ he said bringing you along with him coming to the stables. A stable man came up with two horses, one black stallion and a pure white one 

“Your majesties“ the man bowed his head as he handed you both the reins. You took the white stallion while Hajime took his black one. You follow him to an open field, it was covered in wild flowers and tall grass, it looks so surreal you weren’t sure if you were awake.   

“Do you need help?“ he asked motioning to your horse. You smirk and hop on quickly

“I’m a peasant remember? I’ve been on horses since I was 8“ that damn sassy mouth quick to catch him off guard but quick to make him blush. He hops on to his and smirks right back 

“I was 4“ and with a quick whip of the reins he was off into the field.

A smile comes to your face as you do the same, your horse taking off quickly after his. As you begin catching up, you couldn’t help but laugh as the wind combed your hair. The suns’ rays kissed your skin and your lips widen in a happy smile. Looking back to you, he wished he could stare at you all day. You looked so free, so beautiful, so happy. That’s all he wanted. 

“Come on slow poke!“ you giggle coming to a stop and hopping off your horse.

He raised an eye brow but played along. He chased after you through the tall field, feeling his chest swell with happiness and soon a laugh erupts from his lips as he begins to gain on you. He hadn’t had this much fun in years!

Thinking you were hearing things you turn only to see him much closer than you thought. He tries to stop but fails and caused you both to fall over, him landing on top of you. He lifts himself on to his elbows looking down at you. Your hair was laid out, framing your face, the sun hits your skin just right, and your rosy cheeks only made you more captivating.

 Your lips slightly parted and panting from all the running. Both your gazes swimming in each others, almost lost. The sound of your laughter made his heart jump in happiness, it was simply music to his ears. 

“I didn’t think you’d come after me“ you giggle getting him out of his trance. He stumbles but comes off of you and lays next to you. 

“I um...yeah I haven’t laughed like that in years. It was fun” he admits “Thank you”

“thank you too,” you respond “I’ve been a little bored, this was really...relaxing.” you smile and that’s what he wanted, but he still had to make it up to you. That was saved for later though.

“My mother would have liked you a lot” he says “You’re sharp and witty and you definitely will not shut up if you disagree with something.“

You scoff “you’re one to talk” he sit up suddenly and motion for him to do so “Come on I’ll show you how to make a flower crown”

“O-okay“ that afternoon was spent making things with the flowers in reach. You showed him how to weave the delicate stems together. His rough hands had a hard time with it but you were helping him along. Your soft hands on his felt like magic, you were so gentle and careful. He couldn’t help but blush at the touch. 

Before you knew it, it was almost sunset. The sun was setting causing a beautiful orange and pink glow. He would have loved to stay longer but he was now late for the last thing he had planned. 

“Come on we’re late, I’ll explain when we get there.“ he said taking your hand leading you to his horse. You hop on to the saddle but didn’t expect for him to get on as well. He was much closer than he had ever been and it made butterflies flutter in your chest. His arms came around you to the reins and rode back to the castle. You had to admit this was a bit romantic, taking him for who he was. Not to mention the closeness was also nice. 

As for Hajime, he was trying very hard, you had never been this close to him before. He wish you had been before, could this really be what love is? The fluttering feeling you get just being near someone, just thinking of them? 

Making back just as sun was setting he helps you off the horse and back inside. The castle was quieter than usual. The halls were lit with candles instead of the moonlight. Leading you to the doors of the dinning room, he takes both your hands and says

“Today I wanted to redeem myself. I am a man who overcomes any obstacle, yet this was my hardest.” You could feel his hands sweating “it’s taken me this long to realize I was wrong in what I had been doing, if you don’t believe I’m worthy of your trust or a second chance I wouldn’t blame you, b-but I just wanted today to be for you”

“Hajime if this is about apologizing you’ve done-“ you try and intervene but you were cut off

“Just, let me me do this....please” with a heavy sigh he opens the doors and lets you walk inside. On the table was a beautifully decorated cake, next to it was a small piece of paper that read ‘happy birthday’

“What....I don’t-“ turning quickly Hajime has a bouquet of flowers in hand and looks scared. He stuck in place and afraid to move, he even looks a bit constipated. His hands were shaking and even in the dim lighting his face was as red as a rose. He steps forward two steps still stiff as a broom

“Y/N! I’ve never been good with words nor my emotions!” He yelled accidentally. Oikawa and Rose and the other maids and butlers watch from the door as the king yelled for some reason

“He yells when he’s nervous” Oikawa informed them making everyone make sounds of understanding

He take a breath and starts again “I’m sorry....I yell when I’m nervous” he closes his eyes and starts from the top

“Y/N, I’m sorry not only for yesterday but for all these days you’ve had to put up with me. You scared me....I’ve lost many things and people in my life. You terrified me, you were kind to me and I haven’t felt what I am feeling in a long time. If I act like an arrogant bastard it’s because I’m....im afraid to love you” he finally admits and steps closer

“you are the kindest, most beautiful soul I’ve ever met. Ever day you showed me more of yourself and I found myself falling harder and harder. Y/N, I love you....and Im sorry for what I’ve said and done! Please let me be a proper husband and king to you!” He said as a year fell from his eye handing you the bouquet of flowers. A silence fel after what you heard

A Tear! Just exactly what had you done to the king of this kingdom?? You were at a loss for words, air, anything

“I-I....” you didn’t know what to say and you just looked at him. He leaned in a bit to hear what you and to say as did all the servants at the door. His heart began to sink as he didn’t hear an answer until

Your lips crash on his in a gentle kiss. He didn’t waste one moment to kiss to back and pull you in closer. Coming to stop he rests his forehead on yours and stares into your eyes

“Are you sure I’m the one you love? I’m a suborn women who won’t shut up” you ask looking into his green orbs

“I wouldn’t want any other stubborn woman” he chuckled kissing your forehead. He brings out your necklace and wraps it back around your neck.

“Why don’t we we head to bed?” You nod and walk hand in hand back to your shared room. Meanwhile behind the door Oikawa says with a huge grin

“Looks like our old Iwa is back! Good job everyone, I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you all” he winked. With that everyone was off to their designated rooms for the night. As for you and Hajime, you were both as if you’d been together for as long as 10 years!

All it took was a simple confession and now here you are. You help each other out your clothes and into your sleepwear. On the bright side of things, you can stare at his bare chest with no shame. It was strange honestly, it’s been over a month or two but so much has happened. The man you once couldn’t stand, had now confessed to you.

For the first time, you got into bed and faced each other. You were in your own spots but inched closer every so often. The close proximity only made him crave you more. He leans down and steals a kiss from you, then another and another. Soon it was just a session of deep kisses.

Be thought you never had any intimate moment yet so he kept his boundaries. But damn, you were so addictive.

“Who knew the cold king would be such a good kisser” you teased as he stopped his attack on your lips, now swollen from all the kissing.

“Well, who knew they’d be kissing a simple girl who is now a queen”

“You’re queen” you correct

“My wife..” he corrects tucking your under his chin holding you close “I like the sound of that...my wife”

“Do you mean it?” You ask getting comfortable in his hold. His warmth engulfing you, securing you.

“Mean what?” He asked in a husky deep voice

“That you love me?” You ask nuzzling into his bare chest

“Of course I meant it. If I didn’t I wouldn’t have done all this. Now go to sleep” he he sighs

“Oh are you tired of me already?” You joke as a yawn stifles your laugh

“Mmm just for today, we can continue tomorrow”

“Okay...oh and Hajime?” You ask before sleeping

“Hm?”

“I love you too” you kiss his chest and finally rest in the arms of your husband......yeah, your husband.

°°°° °°°° °°°°

Happy thanks giving everyone❤️

 Taglist; @vanilla-beanzz @hp-hogwartsexpress @sugarysweets-appreciation-blog @sophie-duck @mysteriousmagicx @toutorii @mystic-starlove @leviiiiiiiii @heavenly-warlord @birdiewolf @bakarinnie @torithetori @shoyosun @postsfromthe6 @yatoatyourservice @lola2001 @kameko-ko @chewymoustachio

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[maknaesdancersrappers]

Devoted 2.

part 10

Overall warning/s: kinkier smut (eg. voyeurism, exhibitionism, etc.) character death, dark themes

Chapter warning/s: vulgar language, violence

Just how devoted is Jaehyun to you?

prev: part 9

wc: 6.3k

You, your mom, Jaehyun’s mom, Yebin, and Minkyung had arrived at the resort a little past noon and were immediately served lunch as the resort staff brought your bags to the room. After eating and resting for a bit, Jaehyun’s mom led everyone to where the wedding venue could be and visualized it for them.

The pathway to the recreational garden had butterfly bushes on each side that lead to a spacious circular area that could fit just enough for your target wedding entourage. There was a gorgeous fountain offset from the center of the area that had beautiful, healthy, large kois swimming about in the basin and a metal fence that had Chinese honeysuckles creeping through the bars that separated the area from the beach.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Jaehyun’s mom turned to you, eyes sparking and hopeful. A resort staff brings over a tray of champagne for everyone and leaves after everyone has their own glass.

“It’s beautiful, definitely.” You looked up at the looming cherry blossom trees over the fountain, imagining what it would look like when spring comes with the petals filling each basin and flowing down with the water. “But I feel like there’s something missing.”

Minkyung took pictures for you on your phone to send to Jaehyun and for his mom to use as reference for planning. “What’s the color scheme again?”

“Pink and gray.” You answer, although a bit unsure if you wanted to push through with it. “Unless it’s too pink? With the cherry blossoms and all?”

“It depends on the shade of pink you want.” Jaehyun’s mom interjects, “I suggest something a bit deeper… like watermelon.”

“Wouldn’t that be red already?” Yebin curiously speaks up, already finished with her drink, hanging it haphazardly by the flute’s foot between her fingers.

“No, not literally watermelon red.” You explain, “It’s a darker shade of pink. Ah, I wish I had my paint swatches.”

She waves her other hand, “No, no, it’s okay. Just don’t make me wear anything short as a bridesmaid.”

“Isn’t the trend to use infinity dresses for bridesmaid gowns? That was my plan.” You walked over to her and linked your arm with hers. The sea breeze was cool despite the afternoon sun; it was a perfect day to lounge by the pool or wade in the shallow waters of the beach. You leaned your head on Yebin’s shoulder and sighed, “I don’t think I want to get married here. It’s a nice venue, maybe for a reception, but not the ceremony.”

“Then let’s go to my aunt’s place! I haven’t even been there, but knowing her, it’ll be gorgeous.” Yebin leans back on you, “She’s a landscaper.”

The private property was completely walled off with 2-story cement walls with vines creeping up from the ground. From the metal gates up to the parking space in front of the house were tall pine trees and the road leading up to the majestic water fountain surrounded by rose bushes was gray gravel. There was a woman that stood just where the gravel stopped and was replaced by ceramic tiles; she had salt and pepper pixie cut hair and wore high waist trousers with a simple tank top. Something about her screamed ‘boss bitch’ and you’re not doubting she’s related to Yebin.

“Eunyong!” Jaehyun’s mom greets once the car comes to a stop, throwing her hands up as the woman approaches her. They kiss their cheeks and hug each other, “Thank you for this.”

“Oh, honey, you know this is nothing. Who is she? Who’s the lucky girl marrying your son?”

Jaehyun’s mom holds her hand out to you and you bashfully greet her, “Hello. I’m [Y/N].”

“To be marrying Jung Jaehyun and having his mom plan the wedding?” She takes your hands and smiles fondly at you, “You’re a lucky girl. You must be so happy.”

“I still can’t believe it myself.” You admit, “Thank you, again, for lending your property.”

“Anything for the Jungs. Oh, Yebin! What a small world, you’re friends with [Y/N]?”

Yebin gives her aunt a kiss on the cheek, “We were roommates all our college life with Minkyung.” She gestures to her, who bows her head in greeting.

“My! I think I’ve seen you in a fashion show in Europe, my dear.”

Minkyung blushes, “Well, I am a model.”

After you introduce your mom and a few more pleasantries, Eunyeong gives you a tour of her property. She first led everyone to the 3-story mansion and explained that it had 15 ensuite bedrooms, 4 extra bedrooms, and the first floor was mostly an open living area with a luxurious kitchen and pantry to the right and an olympic sized pool, with half under the building and the other half exposed under the sun. She then walked through the marbled floors, guiding everyone to the garden. Like the resort, there were hedges that separated the grass from the sandy beach. Tall trees, among them were cherry blossoms, were lined along the walls and varieties of bushes and shrubs grew beneath them.

“This area is a blank canvas for you, [Y/N].” Eunyeong puts a hand on your shoulder, gesturing to the wide space of grass in front of them. “Tell me what the color scheme is and I’ll have the perfect flowers ordered so they’ll be ready by the wedding.”

“Pink and gray, but I’m still on the fence about it.”

“Don’t worry, dear, I’ll take care of it. I have a few ideas already.” Jaehyun’s mom assures you, opening the iPad she had and taking a picture of the landscape. “And if you’re still unsure, then it’s fine. We have months to go.”

A ringtone erupts from behind you and Minkyung exclaims, “Oh, [Y/N]! Jaehyun is calling!”

You had almost forgotten she had your phone, thanking her as she hands you the phone and you take a few steps away from them to answer the call. “Babe?”

“Hi, baby. Just thought I’d check up on you.”

“I’m alright. I was going to send you pictures so you can help me decide but,” You paused; staring at the open garden. Eunyong was right, it was like a blank canvas. You weren’t able to visualize it awhile ago, but now that you’re hearing Jaehyun’s voice, your mind just paints the picture in your head and it almost makes you tear up, “I think this is where I want to marry you.”

“Is it that beautiful?” There was that specific teasing tone in his voice that you would have rolled your eyes at, but instead you let yourself chuckle, eyes still fixated forward; taking notice of the waves past the green hedges.

“It’s perfect.”

After meeting with Eunyong and having a meal there, they return back to the resort where the mothers spent most of their day at the spa, while the quote-unquote younger generation lounged by the pool to get a tan. Yebin and Minkyung tried to plan a bachelorette party, but you turned them down, not wanting one at all. They all met up again for dinner, enjoying the 5-course meal by the window that opened up to the beach. Minkyung and Yebin fill the silence with stories from their work; Minkyung shares some runway mishaps and minor wardrobe malfunctions she’s had and Yebin tells them about the business ventures she’s been tackling. When it came to you, you expressed your concerns about starting your own company, adding the fact it stemmed from Jaehyun’s wishes for you to stay at home instead. You couldn’t help but catch the disappointed and worried look on his mother’s face before she covered it up by drinking her glass of wine.

When they all retreat into their suite, Jaehyun’s mom opted to head out to the balcony and sit out there. You hadn’t paid much attention to it, going to your room to get ready for bed, but when you’ve done your nightly routine and talked a bit with Jaehyun on the phone, you stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You slipped out of your room, thinking Jaehyun’s mom must have gone to bed, until you were proven wrong as you see her still seated outside holding herself from the cold, night air. Grabbing a spare blanket from the cabinets, you walked over to her and put it over her shoulders.

“Mrs. Jung, you’ll get sick.” You quietly said, taking a seat on the adjacent chair.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re marrying my son. You can call me mom or mother now.” She softly chuckles, “And I hadn’t realized that I’ve been out here for too long. I just remembered something, that’s all.”

“If you’d like, you could talk about it to me.” You offered, folding your hands over your lap, “I’ve learned the hard way that it’s not best to go to sleep with a heavy heart.”

“It’s nothing, dear, you don’t have to worry.” She looks over to the dark abyss of the night sea, unable to see the waves crashing into the shore despite hearing them clear as day. Every now and then an owl hoots somewhere in the trees. She looks back at you with a smile, eyes tired from the day’s activities, “How about you, dear? It seems like you can’t sleep either.”

You wanted to tell her everything; from what Jaehyun had done in college to the current issue at hand. This woman is going to be your in-law, yet she’d been acting like your second mother since you’ve met her. A part of you always feared she’d be wicked and mean towards you, but all those thoughts were thrown out the window once you got to know her more.

“I…” You started off, and her perfect brow just lifted up ever so slightly, “I know about Jaehyun’s disorder; the BPD.”

In an instant, there was shock in her eyes as if she had heard you wrong, but then it morphed into something similar to fear. “Oh. H-how did…?”

So you told her everything you could in the steadiest voice you can muster; from the incident in college, to the therapy sessions, to the threats against you, you told her everything and it amazes you that you were able to admit it without crying. You’re not going to lie; telling someone else felt relieving, especially since it’s someone who knows Jaehyun — literally raised him. You only stopped when you noticed her eyes tearing up and you internally panicked.

“You know about my son’s condition?” Her lips quivered, brows finally burrowed and a hand flies over her mouth to contain her sob.

“M-mother…” You stuttered, holding your hands out to her. “I— no matter what happens, I’m not going to tell anyone else about it, I promise—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” She quietly cries, “All these years, I’ve feared my son won’t be able to find someone to love and understand him. [Y/N], you’re godsent. You know what goes through his head… he’s shown you what he could do… yet you stayed? You still want to marry him?”

This makes you tear up, somewhat understanding the fear of a mother for their child. “I’ve thought about it for so long honestly, but no matter what excuses I come up with, I can’t imagine a future without him.”

She cries a little harder, hiding her face into her palms. You move to sit beside her, putting an arm around her and hugging her gently. After a while, you pull away and she looks at you with a smile. “Thank you for loving my son.”

“Thank you for giving birth to him.”

This makes both of you laugh as she pulls you into a hug, “[Y/N], sweetheart, if ever his BPD acts up, if  he ever scares you again, please come to me, okay?”

You replied with a promise, hugging back and feeling your eyes stinging at the sudden weight being lifted over your chest.

“Now,” She says, pulling away and holding onto your shoulders, “Tell me more about these threats. I can’t believe Jaehyun wouldn’t tell us about it.”

“He probably thinks he has it under control and I trust him. We don’t want any of you to worry.”

“That’s nonsense! We’re your parents, we’re always worried about you.” She scolds, “But knowing Jaehyun, he probably has done the most he can do. I’m sure this issue will be resolved soon… and I’m sorry for the things Jaehyun has done in the past. I wish I could say I would have done something to stop him, but his father—”

She stops mid-sentence, lashes fluttering as she realizes the words that were about to come out of her mouth. She inhales deeply, “You’re marrying into the family. You have the right to know. Most of the Jungs have BPD; it’s horrible that it’s genetic, but with proper therapy it would mean nothing.”

You licked your lips, already knowing this fact. “So… Jaehyun’s father…”

“His father and I were arranged to be married. It made sense because our parents were business partners so we didn’t have any qualms on it, his father was quite handsome — I’d have to admit that Jaehyun is practically the carbon copy of him now. But then eventually, I learned that his father had personally requested to have us arranged. When I confronted him about it, he chalked it up to him liking me but being shy around me. He first showed me his true colors when he demanded me to quit my work; I’m an event planner, I travel all around the country for my work if needed and he didn’t like that. He accused me of cheating and such, which were all false of course, but he just couldn’t believe it. He started getting angry, very vocal, never laid a hand on me though, but I still got scared. It was when we found out that I was pregnant with Jaehyun that he finally told me everything about him, how he was scared he’d inherit it. That was the first time I’ve seen him so vulnerable and raw. It was then I decided to obey him and quit my job.”

“I thought you left your job to take care of Jaehyun.”

“No,” She sighs, “I left my job because his father told me to.”

“I’m sorry, baby.”

You smiled, although your brows were furrowed. It was Monday morning and you were preparing lunch since Kyungwon was coming over to work things out for Yuta’s apartment. Jaehyun was supposed to arrive later that evening until you received a call from him and put him on speaker.

“Jaehyun, it’s fine. I understand. Work is work. Do what you have to do.” But you have to admit you’re a little disappointed his trip had to be extended for a few more days since he had to go to China to meet up with Sicheng.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to. Just stay safe, okay?” You silently hissed when you accidentally touched the metal knob of the pot lid. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Tell Kyungwon I said hi.”

“Okay. Bye, baby.” You glanced over to your phone and waited for him to drop the call before checking the penne pasta you’ve been boiling. Kyungwon had originally told you to come to the office, but you insisted she came over instead and she had no qualms about it. You’ve already laid out your laptop and papers on half of the dining table so you two could get things done quickly.

She arrives a little past twelve since she came from the office and right off the bat, you could tell something was off with her. She was still her bubbly self, but something wasn’t right. You couldn’t question her about it because she commented about being hungry and it would be rude to keep your guest waiting for food.

“Oh my god! So you’ve chosen a wedding location already? Ah! [Y/N], I’m so excited for you!” She squeals, vibrating in her seat so hard that the pasta she’s stabbed through her fork has fallen back onto the plate. “And a spring wedding? Gosh! It’s going to be beautiful.”

“Enough about me, Kyung. How about you? What’s been going on back at the office? Are the old employees back?”

“Yes. Ugh! Somehow they got it into their heads that they’re so great because they got rehired by the company.” She scowls, rolling her eyes and shoving pasta into her mouth. “But aside from that, it's the same old, same old. Oh! Eunbi from finance is pregnant with her rebound.”

“Rebound? She broke up with her boyfriend?”

Kyungwon shakes her head with a smug look on her face, “No, honey, her boyfriend dumped her last month.”

“Oh my god, is the rebound going to take responsibility?”

“It looks like it. She’s a lot happier — and good for her! Her ex was rude whenever he got invited to any of our hangouts.”

You nod your head, picking up your glass of water, “So how about you? Have you gotten laid yet?”

She uncharacteristically falls silent, eyebrows shooting up to her forehead as she avoids your gaze momentarily until she snaps it back to meet your stare. In one breath, she says: “Okay, don’t be mad but I slept with Yuta.”

You pushed your chair back, trying to hold yourself back from spitting the water you had just drank. After forcefully swallowing, you breathed in deeply and looked back at Kyungwon, who now covered her blushing face with her hands. “Whoa.”

“You said it was okay!”

“I’m not scolding you!”

She threw herself back on the seat and whined, “I’ve kept this secret for so long since I can’t blab about it back in the office. Oh, [Y/N], he’s a fucking god.”

You pursed your lips, “I don’t think I need to know the details about my client’s sex life.”

“Okay, but he’s a fucking god.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “It’s either that’s true or you’ve been out of the game for too long.”

“Please. None of my exes can compare to what that man did to me.” Her dreamy smile slowly falls, “But we made it strictly physical and he seems pretty closed off, too.”

“Wait, it wasn’t just a one night stand?”

She flicks her hair off her shoulder and clicks her tongue, “I guess he’s lonely, too.”

“But good for you, Kyungwon. At least you’re getting laid.”

“Why do you sound like you’re not getting laid? You’re getting married to a Greek god.”

“It’s not that.” You laughed, “Did it sound like that? It’s just because he’s overseas at the moment and I’m feeling lonely.”

Kyungwon snorts, side-eyeing you as she takes a drink from her glass. “Honey, don’t tell me you solely depend on Jaehyun to get off.”

“I—” You feel your face heat up. Come to think of it, you haven’t masturbated in a while. You’ve touched yourself, but those were in front of him and he’d never let you come undone with your fingers alone. “Well, no, I don’t. I can do it on my own, but it’s just not gratifying.”

“Is it bad that I’m curious what he’s like in bed?”

“Only if you try to find out.”

“God, no, of course not.” She recoils, “Just one of the many curiosities I have that I won’t act on. This thing with Yuta is a weekly thing, you know. Unless he calls me.”

You finish your meal, “You’re a booty call.”

“I’d do anything for that dick.”

“Hey, he’s our client, remember. Don’t get hypnotized by the dick.”

“Oh, [Y/N], if you only knew.” She lets out a dreamy sigh and you laugh, throwing your napkin at her.

“I don’t plan to. Get your head out of his pants, we have to work on his apartment.”

After putting away your dishes, you and Kyungwon began to work; making final checks for orders and deliveries, browsing for more design pieces, and the likes. It took longer than you two expected, extending up two hours than what you had originally planned. You finally decided to stop when you spy from the corner of your eye Kyungwon stifling a yawn, uploading all your work onto the shared drive between the three of you before stretching your arms upwards.

“Are you hungry?”

“Please tell me you have some good ol’ ramen in your pantry.”

You scoffed, “Of course, I do. I’ll go make some right now.”

You have the ramen cooked and ready for consumption in no time; each of you had a full bowl with a few side dishes you were able to put together while the water boiled. Instead of work, you and Kyungwon talked about your new house; told her about the materials you wanted, your plans for each room, the layout, and she even offered her own insight that you considered.

“4 bedrooms on the second floor?”

“Well, 3 bedrooms and the nursery. The fourth room will be turned to a walk-in closet for me and Jaehyun to share.”

“Oh my god, that would be a dream to design!”

You purse your lips, “Well, the two extra rooms are for our future kids. I’m sure they’ll want to renovate as they grow older. Would you like to work on their rooms when the time comes?”

She fakes a gasp, covering her mouth, “I would be honored! But gosh, when’s this happening? In 20 years?”

Both of you laugh as you finish your noodles. Kyungwon offered to do the dishes, but you refused, and fortunately, she received a call from a different client that forced her to leave. She thanked you for the day and you walked to the door, where both of you were surprised to see Hyunwoo about to ring the bell.

“Good evening, ma’am. These came in for you.” He smiles, holding out the flowers and teddy bear.

“Oh, thank you.” You glanced at Kyungwon, showing your confusion at the situation.

“I’m totally not jealous that your fiance sent you apology gifts for not coming home today.” She shrugs her shoulders, feeling the teddy bear’s ear between her fingertips. “But I’m oddly really happy for you. See you soon, [Y/N].”

You kiss her cheek and wave her goodbye, “See you, Kyungwon.”

After they leave, you heaved a sigh and inspected the gifts. Red roses, like always, and a pretty hefty teddy bear. You thought it was odd, but Jaehyun has his cheesy moments, excusing the teddy bear as a stand in for himself so you won’t get lonely until he gets home. You walk back to the dining table to put the gifts down and pick up your phone, dialling his number to thank him, but the call wouldn’t connect. He’s either on the plane already or he doesn’t have a signal. Instead, you put the flowers in a vase and placed it on the dining table as a centerpiece.

Before having a late dinner of some scrambled eggs and spam, you worked on both the interior of the mansion and looking for a wedding gown inspo. Sooyeon told you to prepare what you had in mind for a wedding gown and she’ll hook you up with any of the top wedding dress designers in the industry. You’re torn between empire and A-line dresses, liking both fits on your body but couldn’t decide which is better for the theme. You also didn’t know if you wanted lace or tulle, what type of neckline, the accents, etc. All the dresses looked so good and you already know not to bring it up to Jaehyun because he’ll make some bullshit excuse to buy all of them. Although you don’t mind having different dresses; like changing into something more simple for the reception. You were also concerned about what shoes to wear since it’s a garden wedding, you wouldn’t be able to wear heels that you would have preferred. 

You have a shower before heading to bed, taking your time in lathering your body with lavender-scented body wash to help you relax. After breezing through your nighttime routine, you walked out to the bed while tugging your hair loose from the haphazardly tied bun you put in. Seeing the empty bed reminded you of the teddy bear you had received earlier and you quickly went out of the room to grab it on the dining table to retrieve it. You weren’t really going to sleep with it, but you’d like to put it on the accent chair you had on the opposite side of the room.

Your phone rings just as you were about to put on some lotion and you smile to yourself seeing Jaehyun’s name. You put him on loudspeaker, “Hi, baby.”

“Hi, baby.” His voice drawls, “Sorry I couldn’t pick up earlier. I was on the plane and I couldn’t get to you when I landed because Sicheng and his friends took me to a bar.”

“Jaehyun, baby, are you drunk right now?”

“No, baby, just a little tipsy. Did you get my little gift? Toss the old flowers out.”

“You didn’t have to, but thanks.” You hummed, unscrewing the cap of your favorite body butter tin. “Where are you now?”

“Don’t worry, I’m already at my hotel room. I wanted to hear your voice before I go to sleep.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” He pauses on the other side of the line and you hear what sounded like him getting into bed, “Were you about to go to sleep, too?”

“Yeah, I’m just putting lotion on.”

A long, low moan echoes from your phone and you halt your movements. A tipsy, lonely Jaehyun could only mean one thing.

“Baby, can we video call?”

The next two days were uneventful; you visited the mansion to oversee the renovations being done and was pleased to see it going smoothly as it was exactly as you envisioned it. Other than that, you also spent a lot of time going through IKEA and other home decor stores, picking out possible pieces you’d purchase. It’s still a stressful thought to think you have an entire mansion to design AND you get to live in it. Whenever you had clients for projects like these, you always mused to yourself how you would like it if you were the one living in the said space but now that the time has come, you’re overwhelmed.

Just as you got home, you get a call from Jaehyun.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hey. I just got home.” You closed the door and locked it, while kicking your shoes off.

“Oh, good. Could you do me a favor? There’s an important file on my computer that I forgot to upload to the drive. Do you mind sending it to Sicheng using my email?”

“Sure, which file is it?”

As Jaehyun explains the file to you, you made your way to his office and flipped the light switch on. Plopping yourself down on his chair, you powered up his computer and waited for it to start. Meanwhile, you two updated each other of your days and plans for tomorrow.

“Okay, I found the file. What’s Sicheng’s email?” You typed in the address after Jaehyun dictates and clicked send. “Done! Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

Jaehyun chuckles, whispering into the phone, “You can be ready in bed when I come home on Friday.”

“Alright, sir.” You purred, leaning back on his chair. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. See you on Friday.”

After hanging up, you reach for the mouse to turn the computer off until your eyes gloss over the name ‘Jeong Yoonoh’ as one of the names listed in Jaehyun’s mailboxes. You remember seeing it a few weeks ago and it completely left your mind, but now you’re curious about it. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth; it’s wrong to snoop around Jaehyun’s email like this, but you give into temptation anyway.

A relieved and incredulous sigh leaves you when you spot the prominent subject and sender, even letting out a little chuckle when you see the dates of the emails. This was Jaehyun’s burner email for porn sites back when he was in high school. You wanted to tease him about it so badly, but then you had to tell him that you were snooping around in his computer. Other emails looked like spam that came with signing up for the porn sites so you didn’t pay much attention since most of them involved viagra, online dating, and the likes. You were about to click out to hide evidence of your snooping around until you read the sender’s name: Detective Go Hyunmo of Gangnam P.I. Agency. You thought it was odd, but maybe it was spam like the rest, unless this email got caught accessing porn sites. It didn’t have a subject so you couldn’t really tell, but you still didn't open it and closed the computer after clicking out of the browser. As you switched the lights off and closed Jaehyun’s office door behind you, you can’t help but feel like you’ve heard Gangnam P.I. Agency before.

Jaehyun comes home today and you feel like a child waiting for their parents who’d been away for too long. He said he’ll be dropping some documents at the office and will be home after lunch. As he requested two days ago, you were going to be ready in bed for him when he returns and that means a tedious DIY spa session after you had breakfast. Once you were showered, exfoliated, and moisturized, you put on the new lingerie set you bought yesterday; a black sheer bra that had crocheted flowers and matching crotchless panties that had a string of pearls that ran right over your slit. It felt incredibly embarrassing when you tried it on, especially when the pearls move along your clit every time you moved.

“Honey, I’m home!” You hear outside the room just before the door closes. You booked out of the walk-in closet and ran, as quietly as you can, back into the bedroom, sparing a glance down the hallway to make sure Jaehyun doesn’t catch you. You ungracefully flung yourself to the bed, scrambling to find a position to present yourself to him, but you accidentally elbowed your phone off and it makes a loud thud on the floor.

“[Y/N]?”

Cussing under your breath, you stretch your arm out to grab your phone to put on the nightstand but then you hear a long whistle that makes you drop it again. You whipped your attention to Jaehyun, who now stood at the door frame with the first few buttons of his dress shirt already undone, and you smiled, “Welcome home?”

“Wow.” He drawls, dragging his eyes down your body, “When I said be ready for me, you really took it a step further. Is that new?”

“I got it yesterday.” You leaned back on your arms, folding your legs a little, “It’s a little more special than the others.”

“How so?” He takes slow steps towards you, tossing his blazer off.

Peeling your legs apart, you spread them out for him to see just what you were talking. You feel heat rising to your cheeks as Jaehyun’s eyes stared at your pearls and his tongue just darted out of his lips. An easy smile grows on his face, walking up to the bed and running a hand over your inner thigh.

“Damn, I didn’t know pearls looked good on you.” He runs a finger over the shiny beads, “But nothing can compare to my favorite pearl.”

Pushing the pearls aside, he presses your clit with his thumb and your hips instinctively buck upwards to meet his touch. He keeps his thumb on your clit while he runs two fingers between your pussy in a languid manner.

“You look so good, baby.” Jaehyun leans down to kiss the spot above your navel. “I hope you’re ready for me.”

“Always.” 

He pulls away to remove his belt and as he does so, his eyes flutter to the other side of the room and he cocks his head, “You bought a teddy bear? Were you that lonely when I was gone?”

“What?” You sit up, glancing at the stuffed toy, “You got me that. It came with the roses.”

Jaehyun looks back at you, face completely stoic, before stepping away to walk over to the item in question.

“Jaehyun?”

He picks the toy up and inspects it, turning it over a few times until he squints at the bear’s beady eyes. A low growl escapes him as he closes his fist around the toy’s head and rips it away from the body, the distinct sound of thread snapping and cloth ripping filling the silence of the room.

“Jaehyun, what the fuck?” You scoot over the edge of the bed, ready to stop him until he swiftly turns back to you. His expression sends shivers down your spine; you’ve seen that look before and you can’t believe you’re seeing it again.

“I never gave you this fucking bear, [Y/N].” He hurls the decapitated head to the side with so much force that the cotton filled toy makes a resounding thud against the wall. He forces his hand inside the bear’s head and takes out a small black cube. “There’s a fucking camera in it’s head. Who handed these to you?”

“H-Hyunwoo did… Wait, Jaehyun, can we—”

He slams the camera onto the floor, breaking it into pieces, before storming out the bedroom. You were frozen from flinching at his outburst that it took you awhile to collect yourself, scrambling off the bed to grab his discarded blazer and running out after him.

“Jae, wait!” You yelled, slipping his jacket on and clutching it close over your chest.

“Hyunwoo, did the flowers I had delivered here last Monday come with a teddy bear?” Jaehyun was on his phone, pacing by the couch. “It came separately? Which came first? The flowers? Fucking— go find out who delivered them and report back to me ASAP.”

He ends the call and angrily throws his cellphone to the floor, rubbing his forehead with his fingers.

“Baby…” You silently gulped, approaching him cautiously; you don’t know what to say, however, completely at a loss for words at the revelation. “What’s happening?”

Jaehyun still doesn’t look at you when he tears his hand away and puts them to his hips, glaring down at wilting begonias. In a split second, he grabs the pot and hurls it across the room; shards of clay, dirt, leaves, and petals exploding against the wall. You gasped, instinctively hugging yourself to block off any debris in case it reached you.

“Jaehyun, what the fuck?!”

“I didn’t give you that damn plant and I didn’t give you that fucking bear either!” He yelled, nose flaring and veins popping out of his neck. “I don’t know who the fuck this shithead is, but I’m going find and kill him.”

He starts walking to the front door with wide steps, fixing the belt he had previously undone.

“Jaehyun, wait!” Your chest clenches in panic, “Jaehyun!”

When he was a few more paces away from the door, you gave one last scream of his name; you’re sure your neighbors heard you and are a phone call away from the police if they also heard the things Jaehyun had thrown around. He looks back at you, still visibly infuriated at the situation, but his expression softens into concern when he sees your face.

You don’t know when you started crying, but you were suddenly aware of it when a few tears dropped onto your hand that still clutched onto his blazer. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t the one who gave the begonias?”

“I—I didn’t want you to panic…” He licks his lips, fully turning his body to face you.

“A-and now… and now w-we just found out that I was being… being secretly recorded for—for d-days,” Your vision starts to blur as fresh tears spring from your eyes, “And you’re just going to leave — again?”

He looks absolutely crushed to see you like this, “Y-you’re right. I’m sorry — no, okay, I won’t leave, come here.”

He wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tight and repeatedly kissing the top of your head while you hide your face in his chest to sob.

“What do they want with me?”

“No, I don’t think they’re after you, baby.” Jaehyun whispers, still kissing your hair while running his hand down your back to console you. “I think they’re after me.”

This doesn’t make you feel any better. You cry a little harder, body shaking in his hold as you looped your arms around his waist. Jaehyun’s enemies are your enemies, if he truly had any. This should have been common knowledge to you already. It’s no secret how important you are to him and it only makes sense that they’ll pick on you to get to him. You’ve already handled the demon in his mind; you’ve learned to accept it. Dealing with someone — an actual human being — from Jaehyun’s world is wading through murky waters. You’re either the target or the bait, and it’s upsetting to think that whichever you’re treated as, someone’s going to get hurt. No, there’s this horrible gut feeling, a nagging voice in the back of your head, that just tells you that chances are…

Someone’s going to die.

a/n: it’s a little shorter again, but we’re getting closer and closer to the climax and aaaaaah the trailer drop!!!!! like always, please please please let me know what you guys think here 

next: part 11

~ buy me a peach? why?

#nct smut #nct scenarios #jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenarios #devoted au

[meowmerson]

Waitwaitwait does this mean we gonna get head boy/head girl part two AND three?????? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

do u kno what happens when i try to only write smut i end up with 7000 words and still no smut i hate myself anyway heres part 2 to the head boy head girl thing and i still haven’t gotten to the smut part IM SORRY

I will post these all together once its complete so ppl can read them all together lmao

--

“So, Hermione,” Lavender started as if she was going to say something of value, but when Hermione raised her eyes from her schoolwork, Lavender said nothing at all. Instead she waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Hermione knew immediately what she was implying.

“Stop it.” Hermione snapped.

Thankfully, she stopped the hideous eyebrow-waggling, but she did not drop the subject. “I’m just saying, you and Tom have been spending a lot of time together, and you haven’t even—“

“Lavender, I swear to Merlin—“

“Haven’t even said anything about it!” Lavender bulldozed over Hermione’s interjection, and Ginny, who was painting her nails bright shades of Red and Gold for the upcoming Quidditch match, nodded solemnly along. “I mean come on, You can’t leave us hanging like this.”

“I’m not leaving you hanging.” Hermione said firmly, putting on what Ron often referred to as her Mum-voice, “There is nothing to hang on, because nothing is happening, Lavender.”

“Yes, Lavender,” Ginny interjected, arranging her face into a scowl and mimicking Hermione’s tone of voice, “Tom only sometimes sticks his hand up my skirt in Potions class—“

Hermione sputtered furiously, and Ron—who was nearby playing a game of chess with Harry—groaned.

“Riddle has never, not once, stuck his hand up my skirt anywhere, let alone in the middle of class!” Hermione protested, turning a furious glare on Lavender, “Stop making things up!”

“I saw it!” Lavender insisted.

“Can you lot talk about something other than Tom Bloody Riddle for once?” Ron griped.

“Tom and Hermione are dating?” Harry asked, clueless as ever, as Ginny roared laughing.

“Aw, shit,” Ginny said after she calmed down, staring balefully at her nails, “I fucked it up.”

“Give me,” Lavender said, sliding off the couch to sit by Ginny and grabbing her hand and the bottles of nail polish.

“I am not, nor will I ever be, dating Tom Riddle!” Hermione protested, feeling very much like a broken record at this point.

“Then why was his hand up your skirt?” Lavender asked.

“It was never up my skirt!” Hermione exclaimed.

“I know what I saw!” Lavender snapped.

“Aw, shit—“ Ginny said, pulling her hand away and holding up her index finger to show Lavender had accidentally swiped the red all the way down to her second knuckle, “Lavender what the hell?”

“Sorry,” Lavender shrugged, unbothered in the face of Ginny’s ire, and she added, “Just got so hot and bothered thinking of—“

Hermione knew what she was going to say, and had heard enough, so with a groan, she rose to her feet, packed up her parchment, and stomped out of the Gryffindor common room.

“So,” Harry spoke up as she was on her way out, “Are they dating or not?”

—

Tom Riddle had never, not once, stuck his hand up Hermione Granger’s skirt.

He did often have his hand on her arm when they walked together, as they sometimes did when he descended upon her like a vulture and she could think of no rational reason to tell him to fuck off. He did, at times, let his hand very briefly settle against the small of her back if he was saying goodbye, or saying hello, or brushing by her in the corridor. And perhaps, once, when he was sitting by her in potions class—as he had taken to sitting by her in every class they shared together, which was most of them—he may have very briefly, and very innocently, laid his hand on the bare skin of her thigh where her skirt had ridden up, just to get her attention as he pointed toward an ingredient on the far side of their table that he wanted her to pass to him. And maybe, maybe she had flinched a bit violently, and hurriedly fixed her skirt as she stood, and maybe she moved so quickly that he didn’t have time to retract his hand before she was already standing, stepping away from him, and maybe his fingers trailed down her thigh very, very slightly as he pulled his hand away, and maybe Hermione noticed the look of unrelenting glee on Lavender’s face as she gaped from across the room.

But he had not put his hand up her skirt. Lavender had a disgustingly over-reactive imagination. And Hermione certainly did not at any point think he was trying to put his hand up her skirt, absolutely not, that is not at all what went through her head when she first felt his fingers brush her inner thigh.

It wasn’t even her thigh really. Barely. It was closer to her knee, really, and she didn’t think of it often. She didn’t.

She thought, more often, of Malfoy. He had returned to his usual self, he muttered under his breath when she answered questions in class, called her a know-it-all, cornered her, Harry, and Ron in the corridor with his cronies when he was in the mood to start a fight. But he hadn’t called her a mudblood in the weeks following the incident, not once.

And she still couldn’t figure out why.

She knew how, that was easy to figure out. Obviously Tom Riddle had either threatened or tortured him into refusing to use that work against her, but she still wasn’t sure why. Similarly, she wasn’t sure why Tom Riddle insisted on being around her as often as possible.

He sat by her in class, sought her out in the library, he made conversation during rounds which they completed together every night. She entertained his peculiar behavior, but she didn’t try to piss him off anymore, not with the memory of Malfoy standing in front of the Great Hall, head bowed, contrite, directly following her disagreement with Tom the night before.

She just wanted to figure him out. Sometimes he would say something benign, something ordinary, something she had heard a thousand times before, like “you are an extraordinarily bright witch, Hermione,” and she would find herself so desperate to know what he meant by it, because it wasn’t like him to mean exactly what he said. She wanted to crack open his skull and peer into his mind, dig deep into is psyche and unearth all his little secrets, find out why he was the way he was, find out what he was doing, find out what he wanted.

She heard a knock on her door, and she looked up from her book. She felt her heart race for no logical reason, except for the fact that he had never once knocked on her door before.

“Yes?” She called, and glanced at the clock. It was too early for rounds. He didn’t answer, clearly preferring for her to open the door instead of speaking through it. She frowned, but stood and opened the door nonetheless.

“Hello, Hermione,” He smiled.

“It’s a bit early for rounds.” Hermione pointed out.

“Yes, I’m aware.” He said, still smiling, but it felt a bit more mocking now, “I was hoping you might join me for tea before our rounds today.”

A bit strange, but the request was not entirely out of nowhere. She had gotten used to his attempts to be in her company at all hours. Still, he had never actually invited her to do anything, had only ever sidled up to her in open spaces whenever the opportunity presented itself. “Is everything alright?” She asked.

“Of course,” He said, and gave her an innocent sort of expression, one that suggested he had no idea why she was asking that, “Just in want of your company.”

There was a small, double-sided smile on his face. Hermione wish it didn’t make her heart race.

“Fine,” She agreed, knowing she should say no, but unable to recall the reasons she should say no for.

They sat on the two armchairs by the fire, and for some reason Tom knew exactly how she took her tea (strong, milk, no sugar) and Hermione was mildly interested to see he took his tea black, no sugar. For reasons she refused to think about, she filed that little tidbit of information away, in case she needed it later.

“Has Slughorn invited you to his upcoming party?” He asked her.

“Obviously,” Hermione said, taking a sip of the tea he had prepared for her. Perfectly made, just like everything else he did.

“Perhaps you would like to go together?” He asked her.

It wasn’t surprising, or at all strange, for him to ask her. She knew he would. But she is still struck by the strangeness of the situation, of their situation, and so she hesitated. She wasn’t used to being on Tom’s radar. She had been battling against him for the place at the top of their year ever since she started at Hogwarts, but he had never really given her more than a glance outside of classes. She had expected that to change, at least a little bit, once they were forced together as head boy and head girl, but this was…

She knew it stemmed from their argument, from the first (and only) night she had seen him truly open, honest, and angry, but she couldn’t understand how point a lead to point b.

He could be covering his tracks, she thought suddenly. He could be luring her into a false sense of security, presenting himself to her and everyone around them as nothing more than a besotted classmate, so that when she one day meets her untimely demise, he is the farthest thing from a suspect.

A foolish plan, though, really, because she wasn’t a simpering idiot who would drop all her suspicions just because of…

But she hadn’t mentioned her suspicions on a long time, she realized. She held on to them, clutched them close to her chest, ready to brandish them the moment she finally could and say ‘look, look at him now, see him for what he truly is!’ But she hadn’t voiced her concerns to any of her friends for weeks, nearly a month now. If she were to die tonight, for example, it would seem to her friends that she had dropped her suspicions long ago. And Tom wasn’t foolish enough to leave any evidence if he decided to off her.

It struck her suddenly, that she hadn’t watched him while he was pouring her tea.

She glanced down at her cup, already a quarter empty, and then back at him. He quirked a brow, and it was then she realized she had never answered his question.

She cleared her throat, her heart suddenly racing in her chest, “Slughorn actually suggested that to me.” She said.

“He suggested it to me as well.” Tom said, smiling kindly, and Hermione looked at her cup of tea again.

She felt hot, but that could be because of the fire, or because of her fear, or because of the way Tom Riddle tilted his head and observed her under dark lashes. She willed herself to calm down, paid close attention to any symptoms of poison, but felt none.

Don’t be ridiculous, she suddenly chastised herself. The stupidest thing he could do would be poison her in their shared common room.

“Is that why you’re asking?” She asked, slightly breathless in her panic. She hadn’t quite calmed her heart down yet, and couldn’t distract herself from searching for symptoms of poisoning in her body.

“No,” He said, sounding genuinely surprised by her question, “I ask because I would like for us to go together.”

Hermione tapped her finger against the rim of her mug, “Well,” She started, and readied herself to lie through her teeth, “I’m afraid I already asked Ron if he would go with me.”

Tom got a very particular look on his face then, as he often did when she did something to go against what he wanted. He went very still, and his face went very blank, his eyes dropped to watch her finger tap against her mug over and over and over, and she watched his jaw twitch.

“Ronald Weasley.” He said darkly, and suddenly Hermione wondered if it was a mistake to say that. She thought of Draco Malfoy, shaking in an abandoned classroom, terrified out of his mind, and started turning over things to say to fix the dark look in Tom Riddle’s eyes as he said her friend’s name.

“I don’t appreciate Slughorn trying to set up his students as if it is any of his business,” She said, watching his expression closely, “And I had a feeling you might ask me.” Tom finally looked up, met her eyes again, a curious gleam in his eye. “I’m sure it isn’t a mystery to you as to why I might not want to accompany you anywhere.”

His jaw twitched. It might’ve been the wrong thing to say. “I had thought we might be passed this.” He said, “After all the time we have spent together.”

Hermione still didn’t take another sip of her tea, even though she had gone this long without any reaction, and she was passed the panic that said that Tom Riddle might be poisoning her,  but she kept it in her hands regardless. “What is the point of this, Riddle?”

“The point of this was to ask you to Slughorn’s party,” Tom insisted, “Only for me to discover that you have, for some incomprehensible reason, decided to go with Ronald Weasley.”

“Ron is my friend.” Hermione said firmly. “Why are you so angry, Riddle?”

Tom blinked, then he turned and set his mug of tea on the table to the side. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and watched her very closely, “I’m not angry, Hermione.” He said calmly.

She was forgetting herself again. She tried to remember Malfoy, trembling, afraid, she tried to think of Ron, and the situation she was putting him in, but Tom Riddle was so confusing, and she couldn’t figure out just what the hell he was after, and it infuriated her. She put her tea on the table as well, and mimicked his posture. “Well, I am.” She said.

Tom tilted his head, just a little, like he often did when something fascinated him. After a moment of observing her, he said, “You have such a Gryffindor approach to things, Hermione. I do find it refreshing.”

He certainly had a way of knowing exactly what to say to piss her off. “Why are you following me everywhere?” She demanded, “Why are you always asking me questions? Why are you asking me to accompany you to party?”

“I seek you out because I enjoy your company.” He answered quickly, and though his response seemed candid it still felt like a farce, “I ask you questions because I find you fascinating. I am asking you to accompany me to Slughorn’s party for the same reasons.”

“I don’t trust anything that you say.” Hermione snapped, and Tom Riddle smiled wide. She hated when he smiled like that, it showed off his straight, white teeth and dimpled his cheek. She felt that smile deep in her gut.

“That’s why I like you.” He said.

Hermione grit her teeth, “You know what?” She said, “You can do rounds by yourself tonight. I suddenly feel exhausted.”

She stood without another word, stomped off to her room and shut the door. Tom didn’t stop her.

—

She did go to bed early, but her sleep was far from restful, and when she woke, it was due to images of Ron shaking with wide-eyes, terrified, writhing under Tom Riddle’s wand. She snapped up in bed, chest heaving as if she had just been drowning, gulping in lungfuls of air and clutching her wand tight in her fist.

She had to check on Ron.

She crept out of her room without even checking the time, but given the dark common room, it must be late, definitely late enough for Tom to have finished his rounds and returned to turn off the lights. Enough time for him to torture Ron into submission.

She hurried through the corridors, peering around corners like a paranoid idiot, until she made her way to the Gryffindor common room. She ascended the stairs to the boys dorm as quietly as she could, found the 7th year dorm room, and crept inside.

It was dark, and all the boys were asleep. Most had pulled their curtains shut, save for a few, but she had to peek through every curtain until she found Ron’s bed.

He was fast asleep, peaceful, and as far as she could tell, unharmed. She realized then that her hands were shaking, and she didn’t know what to do next.

So she crawled into his bed, sat at his feet, her wand held tight in her hand.

She couldn’t even use the excuse that she was overreacting, not exactly. She knew that Riddle was capable of causing great harm to people, Malfoy was a perfect example, and for all of her accusations, Tom had never once denied it. So he might want to harm Ron, he might do anything if he felt it would get what he wanted.

It would help if she could figure out what he was trying to do. If he was trying to earn her trust, to erase her suspicions, then harming Ron would make no sense. But if he was trying to control her, to manipulate and silence her, then of course he would hurt her friends.

He wouldn’t do it in the Gryffindor common room, this she knew. It didn’t make her feel better, and it didn’t convince her to leave.

Unfortunately, Ron chose that moment to wake up. It happened slowly, and Hermione still wasn’t quick enough to leave or hide. His eyes fluttered and he shifted in his sleep. His ankle kicked her side, and in his half-asleep state, he felt her out with his foot for a moment as if trying to figure out what was on his bed. She didn’t move, and didn’t say anything, just sat there and watched him wake up, knowing he was going to think she was crazy.

Blearily, once he realized he could not figure what was on his bed just by foot-sight, he opened his eyes and looked at her.

He flailed, his arms getting caught up in his duvet, and he screamed.

“Shh!” Hermione snapped, holding her hands out as if to forcibly make him remain still, but she didn’t actually touch him, “Shush, its just me!” She kept her voice low, as quiet as she could, and Ron stared at her as he cowered against his headboard, his face twisted into confusion and incredulity.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He hissed.

She realized she had no rational answer. “I….well—“

“Why are you sitting on my bed in the dark watching me sleep?” Ron squeaked.

“I was not watching you sleep.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Oh right okay—what were you doing then?” Ron hadn’t calmed down, and didn’t seem like he would calm down any time soon, “Plotting my death?”

“No!” Hermione objected.

“Then what the bloody hell are you doing?” He asked hysterically.

Hermione hesitated, “I…uh…” Then she sighed irritably through her nose, “I know you won’t believe me, but Riddle—“

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ron interrupted, “You gave me a fucking heart attack in the middle of the night to tell me about Tom Bloody Riddle?”

“Ronald, listen—“

“You’re bloody mental!”

The curtain was thrown open, “Hey, what’s going on—“

Ron screamed again, and Harry jolted, staring between Ron and Hermione with confused eyes, his glasses askew.

“Weasley, will you shut the fuck up?” A voice snapped in the dark, Hermione was pretty sure that was Seamus.

Harry crawled in and pulled the curtain shut, and Hermione cast a quick Muffliato. “What’s going on in here?” Harry asked, still glancing between them as he straightened his glasses.

“Hermione has lost her fucking mind!” Ron threw his hands up.

“I have not!” Hermione snapped.

“Yeah, uh,” Harry tucked his legs up, wrapped his arms around his knees, “What are you doing here, Mione?”

Hermione considered lying, but she remembered the fear she felt drinking that cup of tea, the fear that she might die without her friends knowing her suspicions, so she was honest. “I just thought…Riddle freaked me out, I thought—“

“Bloody fucking hell,” Ron muttered.

“—I thought maybe he would do something to you, Ron.” She finished.

“We’re still on that?” Harry asked, sounding more confused than exasperated as opposed to Ron’s huff.

“Yes,” Hermione said firmly, “Yes, we are.”

“And this couldn’t wait until the morning?” Ron griped, “You know, after sleep?”

“Why would Tom want to do something to Ron?” Harry asked.

“Because I told him that Ron and I are going to Slughorn’s party.”

“You what?” Ron whined.

“We’re going.” Hermione said firmly, and give Ron his due, he didn’t argue on that point, just turned his eyes to the ceiling and silently resigned himself to his fate.

“Why would you tell him that?” Harry asked, looking increasingly confused.

“Because Riddle asked me, and I needed a reason to say no.” Hermione explained.

Harry, somehow, looked even more confused. “Ok, wait, so…you and Tom aren’t dating?”

“No, I am not dating Tom Sodding Riddle!” Hermione exclaimed.

“She’s lost it,” Ron whispered to Harry, clearly aware that Hermione could hear every word he was saying, “She’s lost her damn mind.”

“Fuck you, Ron.” Hermione snapped.

“Well,” Harry said brightly, “Since we’re all up, how about a trip to the kitchens?”

Hermione scowled.

“What do you say, Head Girl?” Ron asked, “Gonna deduct house points?”

“Let’s just go to the kitchens.” Hermione sighed.

They didn’t really understand, when she tried to explain it. And every time she said that she couldn’t understand what Tom was after, they exchanged this look like they thought she was being dense, and then refused to explain to her what they were thinking.

—

It wasn’t precisely that Tom and Hermione didn’t speak in the time between their conversation and Slughorn’s party, but they certainly didn’t talk any more than absolutely necessary. Tom didn’t spend quite as much time with her, but that was mostly due to the fact she spends nearly every waking moment with Ron, much to Ron’s annoyance.

“Mione,” Ron said once, standing in front of her from her seat on the grass nearby where Quidditch practice was taking place. She looked up from her book. “Wouldn’t you rather read that in the library?”

“Wouldn’t you rather mind your business?” She asked brightly.

He huffed, and leaned forward to speak quietly, “Hermione, I know you’re going through like a mental breakdown right now—“

“Ronald—“ Hermione started warningly.

“—But you’re really screwing with my game, you know?”

“Your quidditch game?” Hermione asked, confused.

“My lady game!” Ron exclaimed, then hurriedly quieted himself, “No girls will talk to me because they all think you’re into me now.”

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t see why that would deter anyone who really wanted to be with you, Ron.”

“It does when they’re all afraid of you.” He insisted.

“No one is afraid of me, Ron.” Hermione said, turning back to her book. Ron just huffed again and dropped the subject, returning to his game.

Tom and Hermione still did rounds together, but their conversations were all surface level. They talked about classes, they talked about books. They never mentioned Slughorn’s party, not once.

He also had ceased the unnecessary touching, although he continued to sit beside her in classes.

Hermione thought perhaps it was a change in tactic, and continued to follow Ron around no matter how many times he called her a paranoid guard dog.

—

Slughorn’s parties were always a bit stiff, and a bit awkward. Hermione had been invited to them every time they occurred since her third year, and there were never more than about 15 people, guests included, so it was near impossible to avoid anyone if they were there. She kept this in mind while standing by Ron at the side of the room, her eyes constantly searching for Riddle, who had yet to make his appearance.

“Would you stop fidgeting?” Hermione said quietly to Ron as he rolled his shoulders and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“I hate these stupid things.” Ron grumbled.

“Stop being such a baby,” Hermione said, turning to face him and eyeing the sad state of his dress robes. She sighed through her nose and moved to stand in front of him, tugging his robes into place so that he looked like less of a mess.

“Stop mothering me,” Ron said, pushing her hands away.

“I am not mothering you,” Hermione argued, “I don’t mother.”

She straightened his collar.

“Stop doing that!” Ron said, slapping her hand away. She punched him in the arm as revenge and he winced and stopped battling her as she straightened up his robes.

“What is this?” She asked, fingering a stain on his collar.

“I had a snack before I came.” Ron shrugged.

“You’re disgusting.” Hermione said, pulling her wand to clean that spot on his collar, “I can’t believe you are willing to be seen like this.”

“At least my hair doesn’t look like—“ Hermione glared up at him and Ron snapped his mouth shut with a clack, before opening it again to say, “—like a uh—beautiful fluffy cloud.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“You can stop fussing now—“ Ron said, reaching up to bat her hands away again, and this time she caught his wrist.

“I’m not fussing,” She said firmly, and glanced briefly around the room, “I’m—“

She saw Tom Riddle in the far corner of the room, by the refreshments, and who should be on his arm but Pansy fucking Parkinson.

“Ow, Hermione, stop—“ Hermione jerked her attention back to Ron and realized she was digging her nails into his wrist. She hurriedly let go, and Ron rubbed at his now sore wrist, “No need to injure me just because your boyfriend—“

“Not my boyfriend.” She muttered under her breath.

“—found himself a new girl.”

She glanced back over to Pansy and Tom. Tom patted Pansy’s hand on his arm as she laughed at something that probably wasn’t funny, she had never heard Tom say anything funny in her entire life.

“Being a bit obvious, Mione.” Ron chided her.

“Obvious?” Hermione said, turning back to Ron, “Obvious how?”

Ron fixed her with a knowing look.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Hermione said.

Ron kept looking at her in exactly the same way, even waggled his eyebrows a bit as if he thought that might drive the point home.

“You look like an idiot.” She told him.

When everyone sat around the table, it was about as awkward as it usually was, with the added bonus of Parkinson glaring at Hermione every time she spoke. Tom Riddle watched her as well, but Hermione had never been able to pick apart this particular gaze so she didn’t trouble herself with trying now. Ron kept fidgeting in his chair, to the point where Hermione had to reach over and pinch his knee to remind him to sit still, and he made a very rude face every time Slughorn tried to speak to him, as if he would rather be beaten by the Whomping Willow than have to speak to anyone present.

Hermione was a bit distracted, to be honest. Every time Pansy laid a hand on Tom’s arm, or leaned over to whisper in his ear, she felt her fists curling.

Pansy and Hermione had never really got along, much in the same way her and Draco never got along. Pansy was Slytherin, pureblood, privileged, and a bitch. Ron used to joke that if Pansy wasn’t such a racist piece of shit, he thought her grade of bitchiness would go well with Hermione’s, and Hermione had responded to that with a smack on the head.

That was the only reason it grated on her so much to see her here. It had nothing to do with the fact she came with Tom Riddle.

“How long do these things usually last?” Ron asked quietly at her side, and Hermione almost jumped. She had nearly forgotten he was there.

“No much longer,” Hermione said, turning to look at him, “You look like you’re enjoying the food at least.”

“The only bearable thing about this.” Ron confirmed, but Hermione was focused on the sauce at the corner of his mouth.

“Wait,” She said, and reached out to wipe her thumb across the sauce.

“Mione—“

“Shush, I’m just—“

He reached out and grabbed her face, squeezing her cheeks until she jerked away. “How’s it feel when someone randomly grabs your face, huh?”

“You had sauce on your mouth.” Hermione pointed out, “I was being helpful.”

“I already told you to stop mothering me—“

“I’m not mothering you, and it's still there, let me—“

She picked up a napkin and dipped it into her water, reaching up to wipe his mouth as Ron made a very childish face. Hermione laughed, because he was being ridiculous. Sometimes she really felt like he hadn’t aged since he was twelve.

“There,” Hermione said, setting her napkin down. “Now stop pouting.”

“Not pouting,” Ron said, “Just didn’t want to come to this fucking thing in the first place.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, and made the mistake of looking across the table.

Tom Riddle was watching her, face blank, jaw clenched. She met his eyes on accident, and then found she couldn’t look away. She observed the tense line of his shoulders, the very slight downward turn of his lips, and she wondered what had caused his sudden change in mood. He had been perfect a moment ago, smiling and charming and at ease, and now he glowered at her in a way only he could, the type of glowering that wasn’t glowering at all unless you knew what you were looking for.

It made her heart race, it made warmth spread from her chest up to her cheeks.

She suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable, and desperately wanted to leave.

“Excuse me,” She said quietly to Ron as she stood, “I need the loo.”

Ron, already distracted by dessert, waved her goodbye without a word.

Hermione hurried out of the room and into the corridor, felt her anger and her unease buzzing beneath her skin. She just needed a moment outside of the room, away from Tom Riddle and his disconcerting gaze, away from Ron who kept looking at her like she was over-reacting, like there was something she didn’t understand, away from Pansy Parkinson who drifted between glaring and staring smugly over at her from across the table, probably with her hand on Tom’s knee.

It was her stupid crush, her ridiculous little fixation, rearing it ugly head again, and she knew it. It was her least favorite part of herself, her obsession with Tom Riddle that never seemed to die no matter how many reasons he gave her to hate him. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew what it felt like to fancy someone, she just didn’t understand why her heart was so steadfastly focused on a man who, as far as she was convinced, tortured his fellow students in empty classrooms at any given opportunity.

She took a deep breath, let it out through her nose, slowly. She tried to calm down.

She felt a hand on her arm and somehow knew who it was before she even turned around.

She jerked away, turning to face Tom Riddle head-on, and for a single moment, neither of them said a thing.

“Pansy Parkinson.” Hermione commented, unsure why that was the only thing she could think to say, “Interesting choice.”

“She wasn’t my first choice,” Tom pointed out, “But you knew that.”

Hermione grit her teeth.

“You and Weasley are quite close.” Tom said, his tone was light, but his gaze was not.

“He’s my friend.” Hermione spat, “I trust you are unfamiliar with the experience.”

Tom quirked an eyebrow, “You’ve certainly been spending a lot of time with your friend.”

“It’s none of your business who I spend my time with.” Hermione snapped.

“Try as I might,” Tom said cuttingly, his voice so sharp she nearly flinched at the sound. She hadn’t heard him speak like this in a while, “I cannot seem to shake your suspicions, Hermione, I wonder why that is?”

“Because you are a liar.” Hermione said.

His jaw twitched, and he took a step closer, but they were already close enough, so that single stride brought him far, far closer than she felt comfortable allowing him. But she didn’t move away, and she didn’t push him back. “A liar?” He echoed, and he spoke so quietly, but she could hear him so clearly in the silent corridor. She was aware, suddenly, just how alone the two of them were, and that familiar feeling of panic began to well up in her throat.

“Did you think I would just forget?” Hermione asked, and willed her voice not to shake, “Did you really think that I would forget about Malfoy just because you follow me around, and compliment me, and flirt with me, like suddenly it doesn’t matter anymore?”

Tom’s brow twitched, and while he hadn’t quite reacted in the same way he had that night, all wild-eyed with a twisted sneer, she could still tell he was angry. “Malfoy again.” He said, in that same dark tone that he had said ‘Ronald Weasley’ the other night. She gritted her teeth, watched as Tom took a single step away from her lifted his hands in a sort of helpless gesture, and said simply, “I fixed him.”

Hermione stared, and stared, and stared for a moment more. She didn’t understand why every time they spoke, she always came away more confused. But before she had the chance to ask what he meant, Tom was already continuing.

“My methods are unimportant,” His brow quirked upwards, but not in a sarcastic way or a combative way, his expression was a beseeching one, like he wanted her to understand, “He upset you, so I fixed him.”

Hermione felt her heart lurch, and then race, “The first time,” She said, “The first time I found you—“

“Was nothing.” Tom finished for her, and then a bit more severely he said, “I may be a liar, Hermione, but I have not lied to you in a long time. Ask me.” Hermione watched him warily, and he said again, “Ask me.”

“What do you want from me?” She asked, and it wasn’t really what she meant to ask. She had a hundred questions, she wanted to know exactly what he did to Malfoy, she wanted to know how many people he had hurt, she wanted to know who else he was planning on hurting and intimidating, but Merlin, the way he looked at her made her desperate to know what he was thinking, what he was hoping for.

He smiled then, just a little, like he was pleased with the question she chose but also maybe a bit in awe of her. It was the wrong thing to ask, she knew it. It was a selfish and foolish thing to ask him. But it drove him closer, he closed the distance between them, watching her closely all the while, until he stood just in front of her, with only their breath between them.

His fingers found her wrist, barely touching, just hovering featherlight over the skin. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” He chided gently.

She might’ve had a come-back or a follow-up question, but the feeling of his fingers on her arm was distracting in a humiliating way. She felt something curl in her belly, and heat seemed to expand from her stomach clear into her fingers and toes in an instance, sudden and violent and overwhelming. It wasn’t fair that she felt like that form nothing more than the barely-there brush of his fingers against her wrist, just like she felt it when his hand found her arm, or her back, or her thigh.

“Why did you follow me?” She asked him, because she needed to know, because she still didn’t understand what he wanted from her, what his plan was, and even knowing he would just lie to her face she hoped she could read between the lines, finally get a small look at what goes on in his labyrinth of a mind.

“Because if I had to watch your friend,” He spat out that word as if it was a curse, “Shove more food in his gaping maw knowing that he has somehow managed to commandeer all of your attention, then you really would have something to guard him from.”

“And what would you rather I pay attention to?” She asked, and Tom’s fingers circled to the underside of her wrist, drawing down until they met her palm, holding her hand so gently she almost wondered if she was imagining his hold. His thumb brushed across the top of her hand.

She didn’t realize it, but she had been staring squarely at his mouth as he spoke, and had been for a while. When she noticed, she raised her eyes to meet his again, but he was staring at her lips as well.

She should stop this. She should snatch her hand away, she thought, but as she had that thought his fingers glided further down, until he had threaded his fingers between hers and pressed his palm against hers. She should push him away she thought, but he was already stepping closer, his free hand raised to curl his fingers under her chin, to tip her head back. She should tell him to get away from her, she should tell him to get out of her face, to never touch her again.

But his lips already met hers.

It was so soft, so gentle, so light, and still, she felt it like a slap. She felt so hot, and all her blood seemed to rush to her legs as if ready to run, it made her lightheaded, it made her unable to think clearly, so she let him kiss her, relished in the softness of his lips against hers. It felt new, it felt innocent, and his thumb dragged up the length of her index finger as their hands remained interlocked, his other hand shifted to cup her jaw, his thumb sweeping across her cheek.

She jerked away, and she didn’t think it was fair that she could feel so breathless when he had barely touched her. She stared into his eyes, glancing wildly between them, desperately trying to regain control of her actions, but all she could feel was the tingle of her lips, his hands on her skin, and all she could think was how disconcerting it felt now, to know what it was like to be kissed by him and find her lips suddenly bereft.

His eyes were so dark, and she was sure they weren’t usually this dark, weren’t usually this black, but his pupils had swallowed up whatever color there usually was. She wished she could read him better, wished she could understand the flexing of his jaw, the pucker in his brow.

“What…” What are you playing at? She was going to say. What are you doing? What is the point of this? But she didn’t have the chance to ask, because he closed the distance between them again, but this time it wasn’t a feather-light caress, it wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t kind. His lips met hers and it was hard, it was sudden and startling and rough. She let out a sound, muffled against his lips, purely out of the surprise of the onslaught of sensations that it caused, her whole body tensed up as if preparing to take a hit. His hand slipped from hers so that he could slide it around her waist, his fingers digging into her back to pull her closer, his other hand threading into her hair. Her hands floated helplessly at her sides for a moment, she was too engrossed in the sparks that went straight to her core with every stroke of his lips against hers, and it wasn’t a constant decision to meet ever press of his lips with her own.

It wasn’t until his lips parted and she felt his tongue against hers that her hands finally sprung to life, she clutched at his arms, felt the tense and release of his biceps as he wrapped his arm fully around her waist, and she couldn’t understand how every stroke of his lips sent such a violent spark of heat straight to her core, she couldn’t remember where they were, or what they had been doing, or why it had taken so long to explore this feeling.

His hands were constantly moving, like he needed to touch every part of her. They went from her hair, to her throat, her shoulders and her sides and her back until they firmly grasped her waist and pressed her firmly against the wall of the corridor. Every stroke of his hands she could feel straight to the marrow, every sensation echoing in her core. His teeth caught her lower lip, scraped against the sensitive skin and then soothed it with his tongue, his fingers kept a bruising grip on her waist. It was nothing like the first kiss, gentle and soft and controlled, and she got the feeling he might feel just as out of control as she did, judging by the way his fingers dug warningly into her waist when she tried to arch her back.

It was too much. It was too much and she thought of Malfoy, and Ron, and all the other nameless unknown faces that saw the wrong side of this mysterious boy.

She pushed Tom away, and she was struck by the look in his eyes, a bit crazed, a bit wild. His brow was twisted in confusion, maybe a bit of anger, his lips were parted and swollen and wet and the only other time she had seen him with an expression so clear and unguarded was when he was angry. But this was different.

His hands were still on her, so she pushed him away again, further this time. She was well aware of how breathless she was, gasping for air like a fool, and suddenly his face was shuttered again, his brow uncreased, his mouth a straight, stern line.

“Hermione,” He started, and Merlin it sounded like a warning, like a threat, and she shoved him once more just to shut him up, just so she didn’t have to hear him speak so quiet and low and heated.

She tried to leave, and he reached for her, wrapped his fingers around her wrist, but she jerked away. She glared at him as viciously as she could manage, and then she turned and fled, fled like a coward because she couldn’t trust herself to say anything, knew she would sound like a breathless fool if she tried.

She didn’t even stop at Slughorn’s party to collect Ron. She fled all the way to the Gryffindor tower and didn’t look back.

—

“And then she fucking ditched me to go make out with Tom Riddle in the corridor—“

“Ronald!” Hermione snapped as Lavender started screeching with delight, “I did not—“

“Don’t lie,” Ron thrust a finger in her face that she immediately slapped away, “I saw him when he came back, I know what it looks like when someone gets back from a good snog.”

“Can’t hide it anymore!” Lavender said in a sing-song voice, kicking her feet excitedly on the sofa in the Gryffindor common room.

“It is just like Hermione to snag the hottest boy in school and then run away.” Parvati grumbled.

“Remember Viktor?” Padma said.

Parvati sighed wistfully, “Do I ever.”

“I didn’t run away—“ Hermione tried to argue.

“Can’t believe you chose to hide in Gryffindor tower instead of getting dicked down by Tom Riddle.” Padma said.

“Tom Riddle,” Parvati repeated, and shook her head as if she was disappointed.

“So,” Harry finally interjected from where he was sat beside Ron, staring between them all, “Tom and Hermione are definitely dating now, right?”

Ginny finally exploded into the laughter she had been holding in throughout the whole conversation.

#meow writes #tomione #yes i coud post this in a better way and like not on tumblr but im stubborn #i promise to eventually put them all together..... #there will probably be another part before the smut i literaly hate myself so much #im gonna die bc of my dumbassery #Anonymous

[choco-glow]

Birds of a Feather

Tifa had to smile a little as her frequent visitor shifted his weight on the bar stool, his contemplation of his whiskey glass interrupted by a gaggle of bachelorettes begging her for martinis and cosmos. This was part of her usual crowd on Monday nights, the last of the work crowd drifting off into Edge's shadowy streets, a remnant of the swell of people from just four hours before. Vincent had drifted in with the first swell, and after hiding in her smallest booth for the majority of the night, he'd slunk to the bar as usual, nursing a few glasses of whiskey along the way.

It was his way, and she was quite used to it; in fact, she preferred it, and more often than not, she found herself taking her breaks with him, happy for the quiet aura of his company. He eyed her as she deftly made the drinks, pouring them directly into the salted glasses, earning her a chorus of drunken cheers for the final flourishes. As the girls drifted away, congregating around one of the far corner booths, Vincent finally heaved a sigh of relief. Crimson eyes met her own claret when she chuckled, and a tiny smile quirked those thin lips.

"You are amused?"

"Oh Vincent, I shouldn't laugh, but you're so easy to read." He tipped the glass to her and took a sip, eyes closing to the burn down his throat, and he settled his elbows on the bar, propping his head up on long, slender hands, one encased in a black leather glove to protect both the eyes of strangers, and the fragile skin that covered his arm as he met her eyes again. He was dressed simpler than usual; a dark blue silk shirt (ever the vain bird, he had to have the best, and really, he could afford it) and black jeans, his holster still strapped around one thigh, knee-high boots and a discarded jacket topping the ensemble. He'd cut his hair, too, to what it had been in his Turk days, though it still was about as unruly as it had been long.

"Ah, so I am an open book?" She mimicked him, just a little ways down, crab-shuffling over to lean across from him.

"No, but you are a very interesting puzzle at times. So, are you going to the motel tonight, or will you finally spend the night here? The old place is a little empty without Denzel and Marlene." Vincent raised an eyebrow at her offer, but his expression softened. Tifa was not a woman who did well alone; she was like a songbird, and away from her flock, she didn't know what else to do. He could see how lonely she was...and ever since he'd returned from the hell that had hidden beneath Midgar, he'd made a point of visiting her more and more in the last two years. Five years since Meteor...

"Marlene is back home with Barret, of course...Denzel is with Cloud, yes?"

"Mmhmm. He's been Cloud's assistant for the last year or so anyway, and since Cloud's been working so much with Reeve these days, he's not alone in the warehouse anymore. It does help that Reno and Rude are helping him too..."

"I thought that Yuffie was moving in here a few months ago..." Tifa shrugged, absently noting that the bar was finally emptying out. She ran the bar from just after the dinner hours to around one or so, her second job out at one of the retail stores ending at five, but starting at nine in the morning, leaving her usually with very little time to herself. Vincent, and the others, of course, but mostly the tall gunman, had taught her to begin delegating her duties out so that she could take time off.

Usually, it was a little dinner, some drinking, and the occasional movie, but lately...it had only been Vincent coming around. And she had wondered, ever since Cloud had moved out, if perhaps the reason why Vincent had warmed to her so much after the Deepground affairs was because he had a vested interest in her. Now, wouldn't that be a pretty picture? She glanced over at him and fought to hold back a blush at his own gaze. Cid had always said that Vincent was a raven; harsh, imposing, dangerous and solitary...but ravens were quite the gentlemen, weren't they? And they mated for life...Resolutely, she shoved that idea out of her head.

"She was, but then she had to go back to Wutai. Godo wasn't doing too well, and her honor won't let her neglect her country." Vincent huffed out a laugh and took another swig, his tone musing.

"I never would have imagined that I'd be on a first name basis with the leaders of two continents..." Tifa laughed, and filled his glass again, sipping her own long-stemmed wine glass with ease.

"Me either, but oh, how far we've come. So, I'd like an answer, my dear nightbird; are you staying or are you going?" She replied glibly, sliding off the counter to begin collecting glasses and shut up for the night. He raised another eyebrow at that; 'nightbird', was he? Well, then, that did deserve a truthful answer, and as he watched her sweep up the glasses, he had to admit, part of his reason for returning so often wasn't entirely due to friendship.

Any fool could see that Tifa was attractive; he personally found her to be drop-dead gorgeous, and she looked no less beautiful in the dark jeans and swoop-necked blouse than she had in that white tank top and leather miniskirt. In fact, he rather liked what she was wearing tonight...the jeans flared from her knee down in a gentle angle out, curving up over those perfect hips...the blouse was loose and flowing, occasionally dipping down to reveal a perfect, pale shoulder, the soft swell of her breasts hidden, teasing just below that top hem.

Lucrecia had been pretty, but inside, she was as cold as the mako that encased her. Tifa was warmth and life and true beauty, alive in every sense of the word. He had cared for Aerith, but she'd been rather distant, in his opinion; not that he hadn't felt sorrow at her loss, but it was a sorrow for the planet and its people, as well as the girl. Tifa, though...he felt his chest tighten at the mere thought that she could be so easily harmed, and he knew, deep down, that should that ever happen...He rose, the alcohol making his senses just a touch sharper. He made his way carefully over to her, and picked up the first trayful, the larger one as she glanced up.

"Vincent, you're my guest!"

"Perhaps, but I can't in good conscience not help you." She sighed, but her rosy lips curved up in a smile and he felt his own face react in kind.

"...Alright then. It would be nice to rest early tonight, for a change..." The next hour went quick, to his surprise; she had two sinks behind her bar, and with both of them washing the glasses, (Vincent took off his glove to protect the leather) the workload disappeared with ease. He leaned back with a groan and stretched his shoulders, working out the kink that leaning over had caused. She laughed softly, her voice huskier than usual, and after drying her hands smartly on the towel between them, reached up to rub her strong hands along the taut muscles around his spine. Vincent's eyes closed in pleasure, and he let her massage out the knot, his hands clenching, just a little, at the lip of the sink.

"It's been a while since I've been a dishwasher..." His own voice had deepened, and a flash of a grin flitted across his face when her fingers stumbled. Ah, he still had his touch..."You need not do that, Tifa."

"Think of it as a thank you for helping me. I didn't expect to close up at ten tonight." Oh? Vincent licked his lips, and pulled away from her, just a little, curving his body back around to face her, leaning up against the counter's edge, his height diminished as he leaned over her. She was roughly a head shorter than he, and those warm red eyes met his own, pleasantly void of fear or distrust. She knew him, knew his body language, his actions...

"Tifa..." Was it just him, or did she color a little when he said her name?

"Yes, Vincent?" Gods, the way she said his...it was never 'Vin' or 'Vinnie', it was always, always Vincent. Gods, he could love the woman just for that. Fortunately, the feeling seemed to be mutual, and though he felt as though he was about to dive headlong off a cliff...the feeling had never been sweeter.

"Are you...seeing anyone?" Tifa flushed softly, but she shook her head, slowly, her heart in her throat. "Would you...like to?"

"Yes..." It was a whisper of sound that passed her lips, so quiet that even his sharp ears barely heard it, and he closed the distance between them, his human hand coming up to rest on her cheek, cupping her jaw. A thrill ran through his body as she leaned into his touch, her own hands coming up to close about his hand and wrist, and he drew her close, brushing his lips across her forehead. "How long...?"

"Since you and Cloud levered that coffin lid off, and woke me to the world I'd lost. Despite what our blonde friend might think, you were the first I laid eyes on in three decades...and my first thought was that I'd finally died, and my angel was there to take me away." He replied, his voice softer, gentler, as he tucked her head under his chin, snuggling her close. "And in the last five years, I've discovered that what I felt for Lucrecia was a kind of love, but not the sort that lasts. She never would have braved the wilds, fighting monsters, camping rough, for almost a year, and she never would have come to the aid of others. You...You thrive in adversity, like the little flowers that I remember clinging to the cliffs of the Nibel mountains. And you...are just as beautiful as they." She laughed into his chest, and he dipped his head down further, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"A flower, eh? I thought that was Aeris..." He chuckled as well.

"Perhaps the analogy is in need of alteration, then? A songbird, whose beauty is in her voice and her actions, as well as her plumage." She giggled at that, and pulled away, snickering a little at his quirked eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Cid always calls you a raven...so I suppose it really does fit. You know how the old saying goes, after all..." He smiled, and drew her in for another kiss, his lips hovering over hers.

"Oh, that I do...we flock together, don't we?"

#old fic #VinTi #tifa lockhart #vincent valentine #romance #bird metaphors #pulled it out of my ao3 archives #awildlokiappears on ao3

[danielslilangel]

In the Middle is How I Like It pt. 1

Part One Part Two Part Three

I had been working on solo ship smut pieces but I read a fic the other day involving Jason and Tim being together because of Marinette  (I can’t remember who wrote it or where I found it so if I remember I will give credit to the writer!) Anyway, that story sparked an idea for a Jay/Mari/Tim fic. Yes, they’re brothers on paper but i liked how her story kind of ignored that so I’m gonna just do the same XD Not sure how long it’ll end up being but i have a few scenes planned. This is just the opening scene so nothing Mature here... but be warned, there will be Mature/Explicit content in future updates. I’m not a fan of trying to format things on AO3 but eventually it will get put on there. Enjoy?

Marinette giggled at the latest thing the man to her left was saying before taking another pink Princess shot off the bar top and downing it. As soon as she put the empty glass back where it came from, the man on her right captured her attention once more with a compelling story on why he had come to Paris in the first place.

It had been a rough day in the office as she sorted through the newest flood of commissions that had dropped in her inbox after the latest article on MCD was published in an American magazine and she really wasn’t complaining about the amount of work she had to do over the next few months- really, she loved the ideas her clients supplied her with and couldn’t wait to get started on all of them, but a girl could love her job and was still entitled to a few drinks to help take the edge off of all the expectations being placed upon her.

It hadn’t taken long for Marinette to garner a lot of attention after arriving alone at the bar tonight. She had turned every single one of them away, nicely, of course, but there was just something about the latest two men who had approached her that had the black haired beauty allowing them to take a seat on either side of her and buy her a few shots.

It was pretty obvious from the glares they threw towards each other that the men knew one another somehow and their strange dynamic was part of the reason why Marinette was so interested in them. The other part of her intrigue stemmed from something much more basic… they were both fucking hot!

Timothy Drake had introduced himself first after ordering three shots of vodka that he promptly dumped into his thermos of what smelled like exceptionally strong coffee. He wasn’t tall by usual standards, but Marinette was short so she considered everyone tall by default. His dark hair and blue eyes drew her in and she had been unable to resist smiling up at him as he asked “is this seat taken?” He was apparently a CEO of a large American business which fascinated Marinette as he couldn’t have been more than twenty-three. When she said as much he laughed and told her that her skills of deduction were spot on and that he was indeed a young business man her age, but he had help getting the job as it was his father’s company he ran.

“Not that I don’t absolutely deserve the position. I worked hard to convince him to give me a chance. I have quite a few degrees and have helped the company grow exponentially since I took over for Dad.” His voice wasn’t smug or boastful at all as he told her about himself and it was quite refreshing for Mari. She was used to the air of diva that often surrounded those with wealthy parents. After all, she had gone to school with Chloe Bourgeois all those years.

Jason Todd had arrived about ten minutes after Tim and had captured Marinette’s attention as well, though he was almost as opposite from the other man as one could be. Tall and muscular with toxic green eyes that seemed to glow in the bar’s dim lighting and a rebellious white streak running through his black hair- everything about Jason screamed bad boy while everything about Tim screamed unknowingly-attractive nerd. Jason was unapologetically loud as he chucked his motorcycle helmet onto the wooden bar and ordered a Jack and Coke. His eyes surveyed the room in a practiced way that told Marinette he was accustomed to trouble before his gaze landed on her. His broody scowl instantly evaporated and a brilliant smile lit up his face as he plopped down on the stool next to the small Asian girl. She had expected a cheesy pickup line out of someone who looked and acted like him, but Jason surprised her by asking her name and what brought her to the bar tonight. Their conversation flowed with ease and she couldn’t help but laugh at the jokes he told.

As compelling as he was, she couldn’t forget about the man to her left and after enjoying some time getting to know Jason, Marinette leaned backwards to introduce the two men to one another. She quickly realized how unnecessary that was as they greeted one another briskly.

“Jay.”

“Timmy.”

She had been quickly caught up in a game of 'capture the girl's attention' and had been unable to figure out their connection to one another, but Marinette felt a growing suspicion in the back of her mind that seemed to be getting closer to confirmation as the two kept up their own conversations with her.

“Mhmm,” she nodded and agreed with whatever Jason had last said as she pulled out some bills from her handbag and placed them on the bar as payment for her drinks. She took a final sip of her pink lemonade martini and leaned back in the stool before pointing a manicured finger in the direction of both men. “So… you two know each other, right?”

The pair sighed in surround sound before answering “yes” in dulled unison.

“Right. So, have you guys ever…” she trailed off with a smirk on her face, her hands gesturing in a way that left no need to imagine what she was asking them about. “Cause I’m sensing some serious pent up energy here.”

Jason choked on his drink and nearly spit it out while Tim took a moment to chug the rest of his.

“Never,” they answered in unison again and it only made Mari's smile grow more feral as she hopped off the barstool, heels clicking against the tile, and straightened out her mini skirt.

“I guess that means the two of you would be opposed to joining me at my place tonight?” Her voice was nothing but soft and sweet even as her eyes drank in every inch of the men who were both stunned into silence and left blushing as she pulled out a single scrap of paper from her bag and jotted down her address before placing it upon the stool where she had sat. “When the two of you manage to pick your jaws up off of the floor, I hope you also manage to make your way here this evening. Au revoir.” She winked and waved at them before strutting out of the bar and to hail a cab to take her back to her loft.

I cannot believe I just invited both of them back to my place, she thought as the cold Parisian air nipped at her face, sobering her up just enough to process what she had actually just done. Oh God…

She was pulled out of her mental spiraling before it could begin by a large hand reaching around her to open the cab's door as it pulled up alongside the curve. She arched an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side, genuinely surprised to see that Jason was to her right again. She was even more surprised to notice that Tim had appeared on her left. Neither men said a word or made eye contact as the three of them slid onto the back seat with Mari in the middle. In fact, the- thankfully- short and silent car ride was only interrupted by Marinette giving directions to the driver before settling back against the warm leather. She hadn’t exactly thought out her plan of asking them both back to her home and she still wasn’t really sure what was going to happen, but she felt the alcohol strengthening her resolve and she was not about to turn an opportunity like this down. Both men took up a lot of space so Marinette was quite smushed between them and could feel their warmth radiating throughout the tiny space and the close proximity made it hard to think about anything else but being between them.

“Merci.” She thanked the driver and passed over the payment for the ride before sliding out of the car after Tim who had reached a hand in to help her with her exit. She made it a few steps towards her door before looking back behind her and noticing the men standing still awkwardly alongside the road.

“You boys coming or will I have to do that alone tonight?”

More pink rose to the cheeks before they lurched forward in sync, following after the her like a pair of puppies.

#miraculust #miracusin #maribat #marinette dupein cheng #marinette x tim drake x jason todd #my writing #miraculous ladybug #Smut

[elefics]

torment / chapter 2

word count: 2.4k gif credit: @/xalongfortheridex

Within an hour, all the girls were assembled in two long lines near the front door. Everyone was dressed in black - it was an unspoken uniform. We didn’t always play to the stereotypes, but when company came knocking, we all knew we had a duty to look the part. There’s power in community, and even more as a bunch of strong young women in all black.

“Girls, the men that are coming-” Cordelia began.

“Hold on – men? Why?” One girl piped up.

Cordelia chuckled softly. “I’m not thrilled about it either. The men that are coming over are warlocks.”

A murmur rippled through the room. I knew warlocks existed, but I’d never met one. They mostly stayed out of the witches’ way, and we stayed out of theirs. Some girls swore warlocks were a myth, that they’d gone extinct ages ago.

My experience with witchcraft had definitely been dominated by feminine energy. I loved it, but I couldn’t deny that the thought of men and boys like us, with our power, excited me.

“Dear God, let them be cute.” The girl next to me whispered.

I guess life at Miss Robichaux's Academy felt pretty small sometimes. I loved all of the girls here; they were my family, through and through. I knew they’d die for me in a second and they knew I’d do the same for them. But sisterhood only goes so far…if another witch stole my hair straightener, I think someone would end up hexed.

So, some fresh faces – and maybe some cute ones – were appreciated, needed even. A buzz of excitement and pure curiosity hung in the air as we fussed with our stockings and lipstick. There was a collective inhale as the door clicked open softly. Cordelia seemed to brace herself.

The front door creaked open agonisingly slow.

A short man dressed in black stepped through the door first. His eyes were ringed with lines, wrinkled from years of laughter. Now, his face was set in a gentle smile, but there was a determination, almost intimidation, behind it. A long red scarf hung around his neck. I could only assume it meant something significant – he was clearly someone in charge.

“Ms Goode, and all young witches. Good morning.”

Following the first man were three other older men. Behind them were rows of boys, ranging from twelve to well into their twenties. They were all dressed impeccably. I guess we all got the same memo: black.

“Ariel. How lovely to see you this morning.” Cordelia kept up her smile.

I could practically hear the cogs turning in her head, trying to figure out what exactly these warlocks were here for, and what they wanted. The strong maternal instinct she had for all of us was in full force; she was a lioness, crouching watchfully in the shade, waiting to pounce as soon as it was necessary.

“My name is Ariel Augustus. I am Grand Chancellor of the Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men, an institution much like Miss Robichaux’s.”

A snicker echoed through the witches. We all had the same thought: Nothing compared to Miss Robichaux’s. No warlock school would change that.

Ariel’s jaw tightened, as well as many of the men in the crowd behind him.

One of the younger boys held a great bouquet of red and white roses. Ariel motioned him forward silently.

“Let me get right to it, then. Witches and warlocks haven’t been on the best of terms, for many years. Cordelia, in her reign as Supreme, has emphasised the importance of belonging, unity, and magical pride. We think the most logical next step is for witches and warlocks to come together as a united whole. We come to the Academy today as friends.”

With a flick of his hand, each of the roses in the bouquet flew into the air, before floating into the hands of every witch in the room. I took mine between my fingertips and smiled. A few girls burst into giggles. I shook my head, grinning - these guys were good.

“Red and white, for unity. We hope you’ll open your hearts and minds to us.” Ariel smiled.

The rose in front of Cordelia floated in front of her. Her lips were pressed into a thin, contemplative line. She was hesitating, running an internal pros and cons list.

Cordelia took a deep breath before speaking. “It’s true that witches and warlocks have been at odds for decades. Girls, I’ve spoken with Augustus in private for some time. We both think that, for the sake of the coven, unity is the only answer,”

A soft inhale went through the witches.

“Some of you have been raised to think of witches and warlocks as opponents, instead of the same kin. I myself have fallen into those same thought patterns. But this is not what our community, our magic, stands for. These gifts are more than roses. They symbolise turning a new page. All of us, everyone in this room, is joined by our magic and incredible gifts. United.” Cordelia finished her speech and grasped her rose by its delicate stem.

Ariel smiled.

I scanned the room, taking in all the new faces. My sisters did the same. The air was electric with change and freshness.

Some girls began vying for the boys’ attention, turning their roses every colour of the rainbow, from orange to blue to purple. The boys grinned, one sending petals showering over some girls with a flick of his wrist.

“As a gesture of good will, and of our new friendship…would you boys like to stay for breakfast?”

---

Within minutes we’d found enough chairs to seat everyone. There were dozens of us, all packed into the dining hall. It felt full on any regular morning, with just us witches, but the extra boys made the air buzz. We sat elbow to elbow, laughing as we bumped into each other.

“Sorry! It’s a little cramped in here, huh?” the boy next to me laughed as he knocked my fork out of hand.

He seemed totally at ease on foreign turf – his plate was loaded up with bacon, eggs and croissants. I wondered how we miraculously had all this food to feed the extra guests.  

“No worries. I’m Lyla.”

“Jerome.” He smiled, holding his hand out for me to shake. I took it with a smile.

Most of the tension from the morning had evaporated – the girls and boys seemed completely at ease with each other. As I learned that morning, we’d all had similar experiences – we were the weird ones, the ones that didn’t fit in at regular schools. Outcasts and rejects in another life, we found endless things to talk about in this one.

The only tension I noticed were between the two leaders, at each end of the table. Cordelia barely took her eyes off Ariel, refusing to turn her back on the ocean before it swallowed her up.

Other than their power plays, everyone else seemed happy. Every face was full of food or laughter or both. Girls were blushing, boys were laughing and gesturing wildly in conversation.

“I have to interrupt for just one second,” Cordelia stood up, tapping a fork against her glass half-filled with orange juice. Waiters were making their rounds about the table with bottles of champagne, topping up everyone’s glasses with bubbly.

“Today is a special day. It’s one of our girls’ birthdays today – Lyla. She turns eighteen, and we are so happy to have her with us for another year. Happy birthday Lyla!” Cordelia grinned.

The warlocks started a sloppy rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’, putting their arms around each other and swaying with the lyrics. I cringed at the feeling of the entire room turning to stare at me, but appreciated the gesture.

My gaze settled on one boy in particular a few seats down, smiling softly but not speaking to anyone. He seemed like he was having a moment like me, sitting back and admiring how our groups had come together. His blonde hair fell around his face in waves. A crisp black dress shirt was buttoned to his neck, and I could see the glint of a small gold chain peeking out from underneath.

I’d clearly been staring for too long, because I hadn’t realised that he was staring right back at me from across the table.

I immediately looked away. My heart raced in my ears and my cheeks flushed. I kept my eyes squarely on the leftover bacon my plate. I spent the next few minutes looking anywhere but his direction. Something about gaze made me feel like I was under a microscope. Like he could see right through me. The side of my face felt warm, and somehow I knew it was because he was still looking.

I chanced another glance. The boy was still staring, and this time his full lips were quirked in a smile.

I smiled back, then turned my gaze back to my plate.  

“Michael, let the girl eat!” Jerome exclaimed across the table. The warmth in my cheek disappeared, and when I looked up, the boy was listening intently to the conversation next to him, like he didn’t know I was there in the first place.

“Sorry. He can be a little intense sometimes. His powers are crazy too, you should see some of the shit he can do. I’d never seen it in my life.” Jerome laughed.

“You said his name was Michael?” I asked.

“Michael Langdon.” A deep voice came from behind me.

I looked up, and Michael’s seat was empty. A large hand gripped the back of my chair, and when I swivelled to see who it belonged to, I finally saw him up close.

He was beautiful, in the truest sense of the word. His hair glinted in the mid-morning light and his jawline cast shadows down his neck. His piercing blue eyes crinkled just a little in the corners as he smiled at me. He looked mischievous, like he was waiting for something to happen.

“H-” I began to introduce myself. Right on cue, I was interrupted.

“Alright boys, I think these young women deserve some appreciation for this feast. Let’s help with the cleaning up.” Ariel’s voice boomed over the chatter.

“No need – you’re the guests of honour. You boys head on home, we’ll take care of the rest.” Cordelia smiled diplomatically. The witches stood from their chairs and started to clear the table, while the boys straightened their jackets and headed for the door.

Ariel twisted his lips, clearly upset that nobody had offered to help any further.

“At least a few of us can stay back, at least to help you with all these chairs.” Michael offered. His voice was clear and confident. His hand hadn’t left the back of my chair once.

Cordelia looked up at Michael and smiled. “If you’re insinuating that we need the muscle power, it’s not necessary. But you’re more than welcome to help with the dishes.”

---

The warlocks marched one by one out the front doors, thanking Cordelia and the rest of us for such a spread. Only a few (very polite ones) remained.

“You boys know the way home. Be back by eleven-thirty, no later.” Ariel warned the leftover warlocks. He tipped his hat to Cordelia and set off behind the rest of his students.

Michael had hovered behind me as everyone filtered out. I felt his eyes on the back of my neck.

“So, you’re Lyla.” He spoke for the first time in a while.

“Yep.” I smiled, walking straight past him into the kitchen. I swear I saw him shake his head before he turned to follow me.

“How long have you been at the Academy?” Michael asked, setting a stack of plates down on the counter.

“I was fifteen when I got here. How long have you been at Hawthorne?”

I ran the sink, focusing on small tasks. I had a feeling if I held eye contact with him for too long I’d drop something.

“A few weeks.” Michael said softly. He picked up a tea towel and started to dry dishes as I washed.

“Woah, so you’re fresh. How old are you, Michael?” I asked.

He smirked. I didn’t understand what was funny.

It was just the two of us in the kitchen. The rest of the clean-up crew were in the dining hall, occasionally popping in with a handful of dirty cutlery.

Michael coughed and looked at the ceiling. “It’s a beautiful building. How many girls stay here?”

He was completely dodging the question. I didn’t know what was weird about asking how old he was. Unless…unless he was way younger than me, and trying to get with an older girl. I winced at the thought. There’s no way he’s younger than me. Impossible. He was tall, broad, and more than anything, the way he carried himself – I couldn’t explain it. It seemed like everything was amusing to him, trivial. Like he was way older, way wiser. Or maybe he was just a pretentious, brooding asshole. A hot one, but an asshole, nonetheless.

He smiled again. For a split second I worried he was telepathic. I scolded myself for not thinking of it sooner. He brushed my arm reaching for another plate and I jumped back. I felt like I’d been burned.

“Uh – I’m not actually sure. Since Cordelia put the Academy on the map, we’ve had a lot of new girls. I was one of them, but even after me, we have new girls come in every month.” I floundered to answer his small talk.

“And with so many girls, we’re very busy. Thank you for all your help - Michael, was it?” Cordelia’s voice rang out with finality.

Michael smiled tightly. “Yes. Thank you again, Ms Goode. Lyla.”

The other warlocks were assembled by the door, ready to depart. Michael turned to me and nodded. His eyes were saying more, I could tell, but I didn’t know how to decipher it. I held my forearm in my other hand, and it was still warm.

---

A/N: I know the whole witches and warlocks getting along thing doesn’t fit with the show’s storyline…but to be able to tell the story I want to tell, I had to get them together, or at least on civil terms. There’s obviously still that tension from years of differences, but they’re polite and connected now. Also, I’m pretty sure the witches and warlocks are in totally different geographical locations in the US, but let’s just assume they’re both in New Orleans/can travel quickly between their locations). The really fun stuff is coming soon! Stay tuned :~)

Taglist: @angelicmichael @theneverendinghunger @outpostmichael @leatherduncan​  

#ahs fanfiction #ahs #fanfiction #michael langdon #michael langdon fanfic #torment #chapter 2 #witches #coven #ahs coven #ahs apocalypse #apocalypse fanfiction #season 8 #michael langdon x female reader #idk what i'm doing with tags #but this is rly fun to write i just wanna get it out there #elefics #michael langdon fanfictions #ahs season 8 #langdon #tate langdon #fluff #torment chapter 2 #michael langdon fanfiction #ahs apo #witch #witchcraft #antichrist #my writing

[wayward-musings]

Weeping Willow

Noon was the laziest time of the day for anybody who lived in my neighbourhood. It was the time of the day when streets were empty, roads deserted and, instead of children, lizards lay on the small rocks in the park, basking in the sun. But had anybody chanced to stroll by churchyard street that windy afternoon, they would have seen a greatly dejected figure shuffling along the lane, under the bougainvillea. Shoulders sagging, gait heavy and a small bunch of purple wildflowers clutched in one hand, they would have seen Tom Wylde walking to the cemetery.

It was a peaceful place, the cemetery. Long stalks of grass swept across the lush expanse, dotted in neat rows with headstones of granite and marble. The sun did not glare as it did in other areas, and the wind itself seemed to stand still - A cool draught sometimes chanced to ruffle the stalks of grass.

A tree here, a tree there, a grave in the shade. Another under the willow tree.

Tom Wylde looked across the field and began pacing.

First row, second row, third and fourth. Sixth from the left.

He stood there, looking down at the smooth, simple marble stone, the only mark his mother had left on the mortal world. Etched into the stone were the words :

Jessica Wylde   

May her Soul rest in peace.

He brushed off a few stray leaves and sat down. Placing the wildflowers on the headstone, he began.

"Afternoon, Mother," he said, "It's exactly the kind of day you would have liked. Weather's fine, too. Except my day's gone all wrong. " - he gave a shaky laugh - "I got fired, which means I'm unemployed. Unemployed - do you hear that, Mother? I've got no money for food - the landlord's been demanding rent and I've got no money to give him."

He sat quietly, his head between his knees.

"What did you use to say, Mother? 'This too shall pass.'  Well, Mother, it seems that this damn well won't. I shall have died of starvation in a few days." He began rocking back and forth, veering on the edge of hysteria. Tears ran freely down his cheeks. "Say something, Mother! Why won't you? Where are you when I need you? You left me when I was so young." - voice faltering - "Come back - I just don't know what to do." He dissolved into tears, and shook fiercely as his body was wracked by sobs.

Anybody who might have chanced to pass by the churchyard that Tuesday afternoon would have seen a man, broken by grief and misery, shaking and drawing in ragged breaths amid heart-wrenching sobs.

Tom Wylde wept his heart out, and just when he thought that he could not produce any more tears, he felt a small hand on his shoulder. He looked up, startled.

It was a young girl - no more than twelve. Her shining golden hair was pulled back with a ribbon, and she wore a spotless pair of dungarees over a bright yellow shirt. Tom Wylde watched, entranced, as the girl smiled, dimples denting her rosy cheeks, and then proceeded to sit herself down on the grass next to him, as if it had been her spot all along.

"I'm Willow Hillman. I heard you crying," she began cheerfully, as if she had not just borne witness to a mental breakdown. "And some of the things you said. Although I shouldn't have been eavesdropping. Everybody tells me it's a bad thing to do. I'm sorry for that. Although I suppose it's a good thing I heard, though, probably, otherwise I wouldn't have come here to cheer you up. Anyway, don't worry. It'll all get better. That's what my mother says . Here," She thrust a large, fluffy dandelion into Tom Wylde's hands. He looked down at it, slightly dazed, wondering why this little girl had suddenly decided to talk to him, of all people. Hadn't he scared her off with his breakdown? All the same, what was a twelve-year-old doing in a cemetery?

He looked at the dandelion and then turned his head to thank the little girl, but she was gone.

***

True to Willow Hillman's word, things did get better for Tom Wylde. For once, he decided to quit moping around and actually get some work done. He sent out applications for jobs and ran various errands for people to make ends meet.

Each day he went to the cemetery, and each day he was greeted by the same toothy grin and the same small hands holding a dandelion for him. 

He learnt a great deal about his little companion, too.

"Do you know how to make a daisy chain?"

Willow and Tom sat on the grass, plucking bits of it and throwing it at each other. Willow flashed him a grin. The sunlight turned her hair to liquid gold, and she looked as if she were made of the woods herself - a little nature spirit. It was just in the way she looked wholly at home in the meadow - regardless of it being a cemetery.

Tom smiled as he laced daisy stems together - the first smile of his in many months.

And truth be told, anyone who would have passed by the cemetery that day would have seen a tall and lanky man, running after a little girl, who curiously resembled a wood sprite- in the way the sunlight illuminated her frame; daisy chains tipping precariously on both their heads.

***

"Do you like trees, Willow?"

"My favourite is the bougainvillea."

"Why?"

" 'Cause it reminds me of myself. It's sweet and strong and it can stand anything."

Tom remained silent.

***

"You know, Willow, my mother - she left me when I needed her most. She died when I was eight."

"Really? Mine too!"

***

"I don't like cars."

"Why?"

" 'Cause one killed my mommy."

***

"It'll get better, don't worry."

***

A warm day.

A tall man, sitting next to a pint-sized child.

A young girl, with hair the colour of the golden sun, silhouetted in the evening light of the waning sun next to her newest friend.

Daisy chains, strung with threads of friendship.

Bougainvillea trees - delicate, yet strong.

Wispy white weeds, laced with self-discovery and blown on with gratitude for the existence of Nature.

The silken bonds of Friendship.

Peace.

Affection.

Hope.

***

Days turned to weeks, the sun rose and set each day as the moon waxed and waned through the nights - and it all led up to that one day when Tom Wylde was once again seen striding to the churchyard, this time with a spring in his step, a white envelope clutched tightly in one hand.

Tom Wylde had had none to share his happiness and sorrows with until a few weeks ago, when a little girl named Willow had waltzed into his life like the sprite she was, and he was bursting with joy and anticipation.

His days of sending out job applications had paid off, and Messrs. Barn and James had replied in the affirmative, offering a top-notch managerial position, saying that they would be 'glad to have you in our company', and that he was to start on this Monday the seventeenth of August.

Spotting a field of wispy white weeds - dandelions- he stopped to pick one for the little twelve-year-old who had brought so much joy into his life. He would never forget this day - the fourth of May- when things in his life took a different turn.

However, the moment he set foot in the cemetery, he sensed something was wrong. The air no longer stirred with the cool draught, birds remained mute and immobile, hidden among the dense foliage of the tall, lush trees. The whole meadow seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation.

All was silent, and no sounds reached Tom Wylde's ears - except one.

The heartbroken, gut-wrenching sobs of an inconsolable child. 

Panic and fear filled Tom Wylde's heart. The lone dandelion clutched in his hand, he felt as if he was in a daze. He felt his legs move quickly towards the source of the sound.

Later, he remembered seeing the sunny face that greeted him every day twisted into an expression of profound grief. Some distance away, Willow Hillman had looked up at him with a tear stained face and large, wet blue eyes. Her golden hair had glinted as it always did in the sunlight, and with one last smile - and one last tear trailing down her rosy cheek, she had faded away before his very eyes.

He stood, stunned - entranced, as the only thing that had brought light back into his dull life faded into oblivion. He felt himself walking, running to the spot where he had seen Willow. His head spun ; his mind was reeling. He was shell-shocked, screaming her name until his throat felt hoarse and raw, as though shards of glass had been poured down it. He felt wetness on his cheeks, his eyes smarting, the sun brash and burning against his face, the very last remnants of hope ebbing away from his soul.

He had never felt so heartbroken in his life. His bones no longer felt like bones, his brain felt useless and unable to comprehend this strange reality; and the world collapsed around him as his knees hit the grass.

His eyes fell upon a lone headstone of pure white marble before him - the very one he had been weeping over. Etched into it were the words :

Willow Hillman

Beloved daughter and friend.

You shall forever live on in our hearts.

Taken from us on this the second day of May.

Anybody who might have passed by the churchyard that bright, sunny Sunday morning might have seen a tall, young man, collapsed on his knees, staring dumbstruck at the grave in front of him as a lone bougainvillea petal fluttered down to rest on his coat-clad shoulder.

***

Fin.

A note: This is something I wrote a long time ago, when I had just started seriously trying to improve my writing. I think I've developed in some ways since then, but I think this is a good starter piece when it comes to posting my originals on Tumblr! (I'm on Wattpad as TheWodehouseAddict). I'd really like to thank @parkerpeter24 and @kelieah for encouraging me to post this! (Thank you so, so much for helping me break out of my comfort zone 😅)

#my writing #mango writes