#❥ ❝ perfected you stand ❞ (musings)

[hauntsect]

It's the way you walk, way you watch, got me feeling hot It's the way you taste, way you talk, I don't wanna stop You're the worst, you're the best, what a mess I'm o–, I'm o–, I'm obsessed When you touch my lips Look at me like this And my heartbeat skips

[presleyhearted]

Yours Truly - Chapter 14: Jump Then Fall.

・❥・pairing: Elvis x original female character

・❥・genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・wc: 7427 words (grab some popcorn, this is a long chapter aha).

・❥・summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & warnings: descriptions of fears of drowning.

❥・a/n: Finally on chapter 14! so, so much happens in this chapter. Thank you all for your patience. If you have not read this fic before, please refer to my masterlist as this is a multi-chaptered series. Thank you. happy reading :)

dividers by @cafekitsune

chapter index | prev | chapter 15

“Oh be my once in a lifetime. Lying on your chest, in my party dress.” Lana Del Rey, Love Song.

NOVA

The hammering of the downpour painted the apartment's windows with its presence for the past hour or so. Some might say that weather like this gives the perfect ambiance to study. But instead of pursuing academic tasks at the moment, my mind somehow can't find the willingness to do those. The side of my body leaned against the couch of our living room, as I observed the rain bleed through everything outside. 

I've seen heavy rain a million times, but this is the only time that I am so transfixed by it. There is nothing particularly special about it, except that, my mind flashes images through like scenes of a movie; A Warm Cafe. heavy rain. the pull of my hand. laughing. his laugh. dark hair. my dress sticking to my skin.  dancing. 

"I'm me when I'm with you." 

"Do you trust me?"

His words are so clear and always seem to take the forefront of my mind, his voice being a lingering tune. It's like if I opened the window right now, and let my hand feel the drop of the precipitation - I could almost feel like I am back in that moment.  For some reason, a reason that I still don't know, it is the easiest thing in the world for me to lay my trust in the palm of his hand. I am certain that I am a practical person, and being logical has always been something that takes over me in everything. 

But for the first time in so long, I'm not quite sure about that. 

What makes it so easy for me to keep going with this, going with him, even with all the uncertainty? With no answers to the meaning behind it all? 

"What are you thinking about, bestie?" Luke's voice pulled me out of my reverie. I just then realize that he is standing right beside me, placing a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. 

"Huh?"

"Or who?" He mused, elbowing me playfully, with a curious smirk on his lips. 

well.

I shook my head, "Nothing."

He plops down beside me on the couch, "You have that thinking face on, and with that frown on your lips - it gives me heartbreak vibes." 

I laughed at his response, "Luke, I'm not even seeing anyone."

"And? I'm not seeing Henry Cavill and he still broke my heart."

I playfully throw him the cushion, which he easily catches and dramatically responds, "It's the truth!"

"Whoever you were daydreaming about, heartbreaker or not, he had you in your own world there." He said in a sing-song voice. 

I don't respond and throw him a simple smile. 

I never realized that I was so deep in my thoughts that I failed to notice that Luke walked up to me. He was right in the fact that I was in my own world. But he was wrong about the heartbreaker part, because no, Elvis didn't break my heart. It's something else. It's this feeling I get whenever I am with him. It's thrilling, but so terrifying, but so fun at the same time. And I am certain that I have never felt that way before. 

I just hope that when my mind finally stops spinning for answers, that feeling will remain. It has to. 

But then again, I have never been one to cling to hope. Not that I am a pessimistic person, but if you didn't know all the angles of a situation, how could you ever put your all into hope? It's like unknowingly walking through active flames and arriving on the other side with imprints of ashes. 

Hope is not immune to turning into hurt. 

As much as my love for literature and the art of reading, I do love movies as well. Sometimes there is a particular nostalgia to them, especially those movies from the 90s and early 2000s. Luke and I try to have a movie night once a month. Back when we first became friends at the start of college, we would have movie nights every Saturday. But that was before we found out how unpredictable and laborious the schedule is as a college student, therefore it was hard to keep up with that. So, we decided to just have a movie night each month, whenever there is a free day. We normally take turns in picking which movie to watch, but it is Luke's turn this time. 

Due to my momentary 'daydream' as Luke described it, it is only now that I fully become aware of the movie of his choice. His Netflix account is open and put on pause.  I turned to him in sheer surprise, "Really? The Great Gatsby?"

He shrugged, "I wanna know what the hype is."

I gave him a look. 

"Listen, everyone and their mother watched this, except me." He said dramatically as if it was competition.

I watched the movie a while ago. The cinematography is insane. But of course, now that I have to analyze the story through the literature piece, it's a whole different experience from watching. Luke doesn't fail in doing his usual commentary about the costumes, the acting, and his hatred for so and so's character. One thing about my best friend, he might not be a reader, but he will not hesitate to yell at a television screen when he has this passionate hatred for a particular character in a film or TV show. 

He calmed down for a while and paused the film, "I mean, I know Gatsby be lying through his teeth. But the commitment is immaculate." He dramatically clapped. 

"Definitely. I can't lie to save my life." 

"No, bestie. I'm not on about that." He chuckled, taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

I raised my eyebrow at him.

"Oooh, you are Miss Daydreamer today, aren't you?" He said with a smirk.

I scoffed at him and laughed, "What? I'm simply asking a question."

He nodded at me, seemingly unconvinced. 

"Hm, right. Well, whoever he is, he better not give me the ick." 

"There is no one."

"You just said you can't lie to save your life, point proven."

"I am not lying."

Once he saw that I was no longer saying anything more, Luke sighed and simply said, "Yeah, right. "

I snapped my fingers, "But really, what did you mean about Gatsby's commitment?" If I didn't navigate it back to the topic at hand, there is no doubt that even Luke himself would forget what he was talking about in the first place.

"I was saying that about how he is with Daisy. Homeboy really hosted all those parties in case the girl he is in love with showed up all of a sudden. Even if Daisy never showed up that quickly, I think Homeboy still be throwing those parties until she does. And I can't even get a text back for fuck's sake." Luke said, sighing dramatically. 

I can't help but chuckle at him, "It's fiction."  

He shrugged, "Yeah, but what if there are some people out there that do keep waiting and waiting for the love they lost all those years ago?"

I squinted my eyes at him in surprise and amusement, as I playfully elbowed him on the side, "Aw, didn't know I'm friends with Cupid."

Luke scoffed, "You aren't. But you ever see him around, tell him he is long overdue to fix my shit of a love life."

I laughed, "Will do."

It's becoming easier and easier to know that I've slipped into the land of dreams. Before, I would find myself taking a second to make sure that I was in fact dreaming. But now, it feels all second nature to me now. I am definite in knowing that I have been whisked away into my dreams, and are no longer in the real world. So, the only question that I really ask is, "Where am I now?" which I didn't realize I said out loud, but the only indication that I blurted my question out loud is there is someone who answered. 

"Are you lost, Ma'am?" A familiar voice. It seems like the only voice I expect and hope for, whenever I awake in these dreams. 

I turned my head to the source and direction, and there he was. Elvis was standing on the tree branch, the very tree that I was standing under it seemed. He crouches down, both feet still on the branch, and my heart cannot help but leap out of my chest at the sight of the possibility of an imbalance occurring. But the man before me is the picture of anything but fear.  His hair appears to be meticulously oiled back, and with that hint of youthful appearance in his face, and the same striking pair of blue eyes. It appears to be 1950s Elvis. His clothes seem to also confirm my guess; He wears a Cuban collar shirt, wide-legged pleated black trousers, a black jacket, and black loafers with striking pink-colored socks. He also appears to be holding a jacket over his shoulder, as he shoots me a grin. 

I cannot help but chuckle, "What in the world are you doing up there?" 

He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head, strands of his dark hair falling over his face. 

"Oh," He shrugged, "Nothin' unusual, just searchin' for a damsel in distress."

"The way you trust that branch so much is putting me in distress." 

He tilted his head in amusement, "You worry for me, honey?"

"Solid ground here. Stable. Safe. You should try it." I said, smiling at him. 

It's a dream, which means technically he won't be hurt, but that still doesn't mean I'm not my usual worried self. I mean, if this is my dream, then I can control it. But dreams and control have never been two things that agreed with each other in my case. And not to forget, the raven-haired man before me's unpredictable tendencies, to say the least. 

He sighed calmly, "I would. But I'm likin' the view from up here." He shoots me one of his infamous grins, his gaze fleeting through me from head to toe unabashedly. An action that made my face grow hot all of a sudden, as I averted my gaze from him quickly. 

In my previous dream, we were walking under the night sky and I remember vividly that he told me he wanted to show me something. But that never happened because my body jolted me back awake. Back into reality. 

"Didn't you say you were going to show me something?" I questioned him, hoping that it would throw him off from him noticing my reaction to his comment. Hoping that it distracts me from feeling that familiar warm sensation that sits in the depth of my chest. For if I don't distract myself, and I start to think about all the other times - all our previous encounters - I might be forced to turn my back on him, and only face him again once I can fix my flustered state. I am no stranger to his flirtatious nature, but I am a stranger to who I am when I am with him. 

And I am not sure how to connect those puzzle pieces. Not right now, at least. 

Elvis nodded, stood up from his crouched position, and jumped off from the tree branch - an action that happened in the blink of an eye, and made me shut my eyes in fright. He thankfully lands safely and stands right in front of me.

"Yeah. Before you disappeared." He said teasingly. 

I shrugged, my smile dissipating into a picture of guilt, "I can't control it, you know?"

I hope he knows. When these dreams first started to happen, I was directly asking him all those questions about the reason behind it all. I still don't have all the answers. But I believe that he is real. Based on all of these small hints that happened, and how he answered that he said yes, even if he didn't verbally confirm it. When I woke up in Graceland and apologized to him for being late, he jokingly said he thought he got stood up. That was the closest exchange of words between us that touched on the topic of the control of my dreams, and how I wake up out of nowhere and there is no real sign right before it happens. But this is the first time I am telling him that I did wake up all of a sudden, and I think he knows. But I say this as a question, in case he doesn't. Even if I think he does. 

Elvis nodded, "Course. Doesn't mean it hurts me less." He said, his voice so soft. 

He bites his bottom lip and releases a deep breath. There is a breeze in the air, a deep contrast to the chilling winter air of the real world. The leaves of the trees sway to the effect of the wind,  the blooming of the flowers that decorate the lush green grass, and the shine of the sunlight - all the elements that immediately make it known to me that it is Spring that greet me in this dream. The sunlight that shines from behind me is the perfect tool that magnifies the azure of his eyes. The glint of playfulness is not harbored within them, instead, it makes me see that there is a pool of tears that paint his eyes and look into mine. Elvis has seen me multiple times by now, all of these dreams, all these encounters - and yet, he studies my face now. As if it is the first and last time he ever will lay his eyes on me. His eyes moved from each inch of my face, like what people do when they try to memorize something. 

It's an action that would otherwise make me feel uncomfortable if it were someone else, but instead, all I feel is shreds of pain that poke at my heart and a haze of confusion that clouds my mind. And with those both combined? I feel a sudden lump in my throat, it's that feeling that builds up when someone is about to break into tears. And I am at a loss of words on why that is. Why my body, my heart, and my mind are reacting this way?

"I'm sorry," I said, surprising myself by the break in my voice. the instability. 

The rational part of my brain believes that Elvis is acting this way because of how abruptly I leave him in the world of dreams. 

Elvis shook his head. 

A loose strand of my hair blows in the spring wind, Elvis brings his hand up and tucks this behind my ear. All whilst never leaving his gaze from mine, "Nova. . . it's never not you." He said softly. 

I looked at him quizzically, "Elvis. . . "

Elvis looked down and shook his head, and when he faced me again there was that bright smile on his face. As if the tense nature and hurt in his face, and how words a second ago didn't happen. He takes the jacket off his shoulder and drapes it over my shoulders, "C'mon." He naturally intertwined our fingers and tugged me along in a direction. 

"Here we are." 

I gasped in astonishment at the scene before me, "This is insane."

From the moment he pulled me along with him and the way we made our way through a forest, there was a rush of excitement and curiosity that filled me. The chirping of birds in high trees and canopies accompanied our journey, but that sound was added by something else and I could've never guessed that it would all lead to this. The source of the sound is the rush of water splashing against rocks. Bees buzzing, birds chirping, the splash of the water, and the rush of the wind rustling through the trees - all working to elevate the beautiful sight before us. 

A waterfall. 

An almost crystal-like paradise blue water spilled over the rocks and cascaded effortlessly into the gleaming pool. The water that left the ledge was not producing harsh, strong sounds. It was a rush, but a more gentle affair, which explains the white lines at the edges of it as it met the serenity of the pool at the bottom. The amber glow of the sunset peeks through the branches of a singular tree that hung over the water illuminating a radiating glow to the pool. The height of the waterfall itself was not extremely daunting, but it appeared steep and tall enough to create such a picturesque image. 

I turned to Elvis, who through my awestruck reaction, I didn't even realize was now in only a pair of swimming shorts. His bare upper body was a beautiful shade of tan, his stomach was slim and there was an undeniable air of confidence in the way he stood there beside me. Half-naked he was, - shit, half-naked. 

"Am I interruptin' you, honey?" His voice filled with amusement, as I snap my head back up to look at him. His hands are set on his hips, that familiar smirk on his lips, as he catches me checking him out. 

Well, shit. 

"I- well. .you-," I spluttered out pathetically, he raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. 

I sighed with my hands in my head in sheer embarrassment. Oh my God Nova, get it together. He isn't even naked. Well, only half-naked. 

"How did you change into shorts so fast?" I managed to say, thanking myself that I was able to contain my composture, despite the growing warmth in my cheeks. 

Elvis chuckled and tilted his head at me, "I'm glad that I impressed you, Miss Sinclair." 

I cannot help but feel the corners of my lips twitch up into a small smile. 

"Ocassionally." I teased him. 

He advanced in front of me and stopped and my heart found this the sign to beat erratically against my chest. Elvis leaned forward to the right side of my face until I swear I could feel his breathing tickle against my ear, "Darlin', I can be very impressive. " He pulled back and studied my face for a second, a smirk prominent on his lips. He fully stepped back and walked past me. I regained myself, for the second time in the conversation, and turned myself around. I was a statue for a second there, releasing a breath that I didn't know I was holding. I move my hands subtly, trying my best to get rid of the sweaty feeling of my palms. 

"W-Where are you going?" 

Damn it, Nova. Did you have to stutter?

He squinted his hypnotic blue eyes at me that were filled with mischief, "To cool off." He chuckled.

The meaning behind his words unmistakenly indicated my flustered state. 

He was walking backward, facing me while he neared the water. Elvis turned around and jumped into the water, making a splash in which I gasped. He appeared from the water not a second later with a grin on his lips, as he pushed his hair back with his one hand. 

He looked at me expectantly, "C'mon, honey." 

His invitation for me to join him in the water rendered my knees weak. Practically shaking. No matter how beautiful the entire atmosphere was and how ethereal the flow of the water seemed to be, I couldn't bring myself to step closer. My palms were welcomed with the familiar feeling of sweat, at such a speed that almost matched the the pulsing of my heart. A sound that I swear I can almost hear, matching the shallow breaths that escaped my lips. My lips felt very dry all of a sudden. 

"No. I-I-I can't. " I stepped back. 

He looked at me, his eyes a beautiful shade of blue. Full of empathy and gentleness. 

"Yeah, you can. C'mon, I've gotcha." He encouraged me, his voice was soft with his hand stretched out to me. 

"Elvis, n-no. I-I can't swim." I replied, feeling my breathing becoming more of a sport. An action that was natural now quickly becoming unnatural. 

"Darlin', I know that. Let me teach you." He offered me a small smile, and for a second I felt a sense of comfort. But that was quickly whisked away by the idea of the depth of the water and the sound of it splashing against each other, hitting the rocks nearby. 

I shook my head, "W-What if the water takes m-me? H-How deep is it? W-What if I drown?"

Elvis interrupts me, "Nova, breathe. Breathe." He repeated.

He instructed me, starting with closing my eyes and focusing on my breathing. I did this a few times until the only sounds that filled my ears were the soft swaying of the trees and the chirping of the birds. The sound of the water was barely present anymore. And so, I continued to do this until I could feel my heartbeat steady. Elvis' voice guided me. 

I regained the normal pattern of my breathing. 

"Okay, now what?" I asked, with my eyes still closed. 

Silence. 

"Elvis?" I repeated. 

No response. 

Just how fast dread seeps into one's chest in moments. 

I opened my eyes and everything was exactly how it was. Except that, the water before me did not house the familiar raven-haired man. 

"Elvis!" I yelled, my head snapping in each direction. 

Now, I am the most logical and risk-free person if one were to ask the people closest to me. I do not make any decisions, whether it be heavy ones or light ones, impulsively and in a 'spur of the moment.' Never. 

But such things as those require thinking. One thing that I can say for sure is that I do it all the time. 

Except this time I wasn't. I was being led by something else other than my brain. 

And so, I feel an energy-like force almost pulling me to glance at the water again. 

"Elvis!" I called out again. 

No response. 

Before my mind could register my actions, I slipped off the dress that I was wearing and found myself near the body of water - and I jumped. 

Shit. 

Oh god, I can't breathe. 

I tried to pull myself from the power of the water but felt my legs sinking down as well as the rest of my body. My eyes kept snapping shut due to the pressure and how I uncontrollably swallowed amounts of water as I tried to breathe. 

But I am sinking. 

and sinking. 

and-

"I've gotcha." That familiar voice rings in my ear, as I feel a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist and a body against my back. I turned my head to see him with that smirk on his lips, as I felt that I was no longer sinking. 

I furrowed my eyebrows at him once I relaxed, "You!" I turned around to hit his chest in anger. 

He groaned at the contact, "Ouch! Calm down, Nova." 

I scoffed, "Oh, I am not calming down Presley! Where the hell did you go? I thought you were with me and- and you just disappeared? I thought you were gone! I-"

I didn't realize it, but drops of tears escaped my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. 

Elvis interrupts me by pulling me closer with his arms tighter around me, and his forehead against mine. Gone was the mischievous smirk and instead, he breathed slowly, "I'm right here, baby. I'm here. I can never leave ya." He whispered, eyes looking into mine. He then grabbed hold of my hands that were against his chest and positioned them so that they were wrapped around his neck. 

"You better not," I muttered, which Elvis heard perfectly judging by the smile that crossed his lips.

I glanced down and like a shot of fear upon the realization of the depth of the water and the probability of me sinking again, as I only have my arms around Elvis. 

"Wrap your legs around me," Elvis instructed, quickly noticing the fear that struck my face. 

With no hesitation, I wrapped my legs around his waist. I must be a shade of crimson now, judging by the warmth I felt that flooded my cheeks. But who can blame me? The sheer proximity of our bodies - I have never been in a situation like this before. I only had my underwear and bra on, and Elvis was only in his shorts. And not to mention, I am in a body of water - something which I swore myself I would never do due to my intense fear of drowning. There it goes again - the beating of my heart, as I feel blood rushing from my veins to the very tip of my fingers that clung onto him. The pulse acted like a catalyst for hot waves of that beating against my chest. 

I looked at Elvis again, but his azure eyes were already on me. He was biting his bottom lip, as he groaned in what appeared to be pain. 

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry. I'm too heavy-" I started to profusely apologize. 

"No, darlin.' No." He said, his voice strained. 

"But-"

I started to detach myself from him slowly and move my body, feeling embarrassed about the way I practically clung onto him and put all my weight on him. 

"Nova, stop movin.'" He said, not in a harsh manner. But in a tone that was strained and I swore I heard him mutter under his breath, "Lord, help me."

"What is it? You look hurt, Elvis." I said, trying to find more of an explanation for his pained expression that adored his features. Sweat trickled down his forehead. 

He shook his head, "Keep close to me, I'm not hurt."

"You swear?" I questioned, still unsure of his words.

He nodded, "Yeah, yeah I swear."

I secured myself around him again, believing his words. 

I feel something hard against my thigh, I look down quizzically and gasped at the sight of a bulge from his shorts poking my thigh. I avert my gaze. I feel that sudden warmth in my cheeks and seems to travel to my neck as well. 

Elvis must've seen my reaction, "Aw, hell. I'm sorry, darlin.' I-" He sighed deeply, his head facing the sky above. 

To not further the obvious awkwardness that was surely rising between us, I pretended to clear my throat and said, "Were you talking about teaching me how to swim?" 

His chest seemed to relax as he breathed a sigh of relief and nodded, "Uh, yes, yeah okay." 

Swimming was a skill that my parents were not fond of me learning. Their protectiveness over my safety wins priority over learning a life skill. And so, I grew up with the fear of water as a result.

After that awkward moment between Elvis and me, slowly but surely he did exactly what he promised. He taught me how to swim. Well, almost did. My fear of drowning and losing control would creep up on me every now and again, which would make me stop and cling to him or the rocks nearby. But even with that, his patience never wavered. Nor did he make me feel embarrassed. No, I never felt any of those emotions. Only comfort and dare I say, some excitement when I feel like I am getting the hang of it. By the end of our swimming session, I was no expert in swimming, but I at least had less fear of the water and trusted myself more in gaining control of how I moved against the water. 

Not to mention, I became accustomed to the touch of his skin against mine and the closeness that was unavoidable in the situation. It was like the rapid changing of seasons - hot and cold. But in the end, no matter what, all I felt was familiarity. To the point that no contact of my skin against his was more unnatural than natural. 

Soon, the greeting of the amber glow of sunset alerted our tired bodies. Therefore, we made our way out of the body of water and back onto dry land. We dried ourselves with a towel that was nearby, one that I didn't question, for this was all a dream. And I learned now that questioning things in this world leads me to nowhere. I pulled my dress back on and Elvis put his clothes back on. However, albeit the warmer season in this dream compared to the real world, there was a chill in the air - the sign of the day nearly coming to a close. 

Elvis must've noticed my shivering state as I ran my hands up and down my crossed arms, he slipped his jacket off and draped it over my shoulders. 

I protested quickly, "What about you?"

He shrugged with that lopsided grin of his, "I'm fine, darlin'."

"Elvis-"

"Yes, Miss Sinclair?" He tilts his head at me and that's when I knew that there was no use in arguing with him. 

So I sighed and playfully rolled my eyes, "Alright, you win."

He chuckled and grasped my hand into his, the action more effortless than when I said my own name. We walked quickly beside each other in silence, in which I broke, " Thank you."

Elvis turned to me, "For what, darlin?" He asked, his thumb gently caressing my hand.  

"Well, teaching me how to swim even if I'm still not completely there yet. But thank you anyway for being so patient with me." 

"Of course, " He nodded, "You gotta believe in yourself more, honey." He said softly.

I sighed, "I know, but it's easier said than done." I cannot help but shrug. 

Elvis stopped walking and faced me, "The things that last, the most important things - they take time. Always do." He said to me, but somehow it felt as if the words were scattered notes across a broken piano - one that still plays beautifully, but long forgotten. One that remembers the melody of a beautiful thing. His tone of voice resembled one of a person who was recalling a memory of some kind before it faded away. The reminiscent kind. One that is mixed with the taste of nostalgia. 

"Very wise, who said that?" I mused. It was becoming harder and harder to find a way to ease the tension when he grew serious all of a sudden. It is not a tension that is negative by any means, but there is something in my chest. This feeling. And before I could even think more about it, I had to lean into a half-humored response. A light response, but sincerity and honesty all the same.

Elvis winked.

Before I could question more into his confusing response, he tugged my hand intertwined in his closer as he led me through more of the forest. Shortly after that, I find that we are somehow on the other side of the waterfall but perched on a hill. So, there was a distance from the water, but not too far. Just the right enough distance to take in the picturesque view. A red and white patterned picnic blanket was draped over the grass, and atop it was a picnic basket and a bouquet of flowers. 

Elvis tugged me along as we sat down on the picnic blanket. 

"You did all this?" I asked, more of a rhetorical question than most. 

"You like it?"

"This is incredible." I marveled. 

Elvis smiled, letting go of my hands and taking hold of the bouquet - presenting them to me. 

"For you, Nova." 

I gladly accept the bouquet and admire the flowers. These flowers were rare, only appearing in spring and summer. The sky blue color of the petals that surrounded the mild yellow centre - a flower that I had seen all my life, and I breathed it. It was a flower that always grew so abundantly all around my parents' house growing up. 

Which is why it so easily became my favorite flower in the entire world. 

"Elvis, thank you. These are beautiful."

"it's a. . . Forget Me Not."

"-Forget Me Not."

We ended up saying it simultaneously, and I burst out laughing at the way we said it in sync. Elvis is frozen, his eyes are wide as his mouth opens in an 'o' shape. He starts to say something, but mumbles and stopped himself. 

"Obviously, there is that clear meaning behind its name. But also for some reason, I don't why, but they always grew in the garden of my childhood house. My parents' home. My parents never raised them. I guess it came with the location of the property. That's how I happened to know what they are called. They then ended up being my favorite flower, I don't know if it was because it was the only flower that I saw constantly and thought I was a smart kid. But-"

I stopped my ramblings, as I noticed that Elvis has grown silent. His eyes are no longer looking into mine but instead appear to be looking far away out into the distance. But his removal from me wasn't what gravitated my interest, it was what was contained in his azure eyes. A build of tears seemed to be rising higher and higher in his eyes. I've only ever seen him in a state of tears like this once before, a while ago, when I asked him questions with one-word answers. 

The image makes me reach my hand out to him as I wrap it around his, "Elvis?" I said, my voice quiet, "Are you okay?" 

He doesn't respond. Instead, he shuts his eyes rapidly and those tears escape down his face. He keeps his eyes closed, appearing to be squeezing his eyelids shut. 

Oh god. What did I say? 

"Did I say something?"

My questions seemed to shake him out of his trance, and he opened his eyes, and the very moment he did - I felt my heart collapse. Like the earth-shattering quake that makes even the strongest buildings surrender to the ground. His eyes are swollen, evident by the droplets of tears that still cascade down his cheeks. He shook his head and with shaky hands, he brought his hands up to cup my cheeks, "Nova." 

"Tell me, did I say something wrong? I'm sor-"

"No, no, no." He said quickly, voice cracking. 

In that moment, there is something within me that reigns over the attitude of thinking over my decisions and choices. 

The space and distance between us suddenly felt wrong. 

I reached my hands out to push his hair out of his face and wipe the tears off his cheeks. I leave my hands resting on his shoulders, as I tuck my knees beneath me and feel myself pulling him close to me - enveloping him into a hug. The action caused the raven-haired man before me to erupt into sobs, his arms gripped around me grow tighter. I find myself running my hand through his hair in a soothing manner. Now is not the time for questions, sometimes in life, we have no choice but to speak and let words be spoken. But this time? Elvis does not need me pestering him with questions. 

"Shh, it's alright."

A while goes by, but I do not pull back until Elvis does. 

And when he does, I try to brush off that feeling of emptiness that rushes into my system - into the very corners of that organ that sits inside my chest, all too quickly. 

It took a while before the atmosphere between us goes back to lighteharted, and tear-free. Whatever it was that was on Elvis' mind that caused him to zone out like that - I hope he never delves into that again. It breaks me. He never tells me what it was, and I never ask. Instead, he apologises profusely and presents the food that was in the picnic blanket. We have the food and soon flow into happier topics of conversation. 

"No way, really?" I asked as Elvis retells a story of how he first started to learn guitar. All of my knowledge of Elvis was from the Elvis movie, and nothing further than that. 

Elvis nodded, "Yeah. I think I was eleven at the time and  I wanted a bicycle, but my mama didn't want it." 

"Why?"I asked, taking a sip out of the glass of wine. 

"Couldn't afford it," Elvis shrugged and continued, "But Mama also believed that a bicycle would end up hurtin' me. She feared for my safety all the time. "

"So, she instead opted for buying you a guitar instead? I guess, it makes sense. How protective your mother was. " This I knew of. How Elvis had a twin brother, but was lost at childbirth. A reasonable experience for the constant fear and protectiveness his mother had over his safety. 

Elvis chuckled, running his hand through his hair, "Yeah, I didn't know what I was doin'. Knew nothin' about playin' the instrument. Only learned from my Uncle Johnny and the pastor, Frank Smith from the church we would go to." He explained further. 

"That's why I never understood when people called me gifted. I was far from it, honey." He shook his head in embarrassment. 

"I disagree with you. Talent doesn't always mean waking up and being a prodigy at something, sometimes it takes learning on your own and then combining that with practice. I don't think anything is effortless. So, whatever you said, Elvis - I fully believe you were a talented one. A once in a lifetime." I said, not realizing that I was using my hands to speak. 

Elvis smiled at this, his cheeks a shade of crimson as he looked down whilst scratching his neck.

"Well, uh, thank you darlin."

The duality of him continues to amaze me. 

"Sorry, I rambled away like that. Saying so much in one sentence - I hope it wasn't annoying." I chuckled, as I admitted this to him. 

"I love listening to you speak." He said, with no hesitation. 

I feel myself blush at his gaze and turn to look at the scenery, that's when I realize that the landscape has been engulfed by the dark blue color of the night sky. A thousand stars dotted around it, looking down on us. 

I turned to face him again, "Oh gosh, I never even realized it was already dark. "

We must've been talking for hours and hours, getting lost in conversation and not realizing it was the sky's turn to rest. 

Elvis frowned, "Oh, do you want to go?"

I shook my head, "No, not yet."

He sighed in what appeared to be a relief, "Good. I'm not ready yet."

I tilted my head, "And why is that, Presley?"

His hand reaches out behind him, in which he extracts a guitar.

"Since when was that behind you?" I laughed. 

Elvis simply winked, "I told ya, Miss Sinclair. I can be very impressive."

I cannot help but smile, "Uh-huh."

His fingers strummed a few chords, "Any special requests?"

I thought for a moment, I don't know his discography that well. 

"Any song. Whatever comes to mind."

He nodded and started to strum the strings of the guitar, and when he began to sing - I swear I no longer felt the coldness of the evening air around me. Instead, there is the warmth that fills his voice and surrounds me. The first verse of the song is gentle and evokes the very definition of a peaceful night. But not one that makes one fall asleep, it makes you keep listening and hanging onto every word. I do end up closing my eyes very briefly, but open them again and when I do - he is already looking into mine with a smile on his lips. 

"Love me tender, 

love me true, 

all my dreams fulfilled

for my darlin' I love you 

and I always will." 

Elvis' voice was flying through the breeze of the evening air like a gentle companion walking through the vacant streets of a quaint town. One thing that the movie portrayed was how powerful of a performer Elvis was. Especially the era of the 70s. The extravagant jumpsuits, the international hotel ballroom. The way he moved on the stage. But they rarely captured how, even without all of that, there was the tenderness and sweetness to his voice that can mesmerize anyone just the same. 

"Love me tender, 

love me dear,

Tell me you are mine, 

I'll be yours through all the years, 

Till the end of time." He finished singing and holds onto that last line - almost speaks it, instead of singing it. 

And just as he stopped strumming the guitar, thoughts evade my mind. Yes, I feared the water earlier because what else does one do when they don't know how to swim? I didn't know the depth of the water, and it can be unpredictable at times. No matter how serene the atmosphere. I know all can be solved if I had the skill of knowing how to swim. But I didn't. 

But the one catalyst that drove that swimming session to even happen - well, it was him. Through my actions that did not align with my rational thinking, I went straight into the water to look for him. To find him. To see him safe. To make sure. If I didn't do any of that, I doubt I would be in the water at all. 

I simply - jumped. 

It was only now, at this moment with him across from me as he finished singing a song so sweet and pure - that I realized it was never really about jumping into the water. 

Whether I dared to say it out loud or not, I know it is true. A feeling that triumphs over my anxieties and fear, which I proved to myself by jumping into that water - I care about him. 

Elvis, I care about you. I say this in my mind. Words unspoken. 

I clapped, "That was amazing Elvis."

He smiled shyly, "Thank you, honey."  He said, placing the guitar back down on the picnic blanket. He hesitates, about to say something, and scratches the back of his neck as he mumbles something under his breath. 

His hands delicately get hold of a loose strand of hair falling over my face, and gently tucked this behind my ear. The action tickles me and I end up giggling a little, "Oh gosh, that tickles." 

Elvis grinned and leaned in again. "Hmm?"

"Yes, it does. I am ticklish, okay?" I chuckle, shaking my head. 

Oh gosh, wrong words Nova. Unfortunately, he caught on to my words very quickly. Elvis started to tickle me on my sides, and I couldn't help but gasp with my eyes going wide. I am lying down on the picnic blanket now, falling over from the actions.  My hands frantically attempt to push him off me, but with that infamous smirk on his lips - he doesn't hold back. 

"Elvis! oh my god, stop!" I said, in between gasps and laughter.

"Nope." 

Okay, two can play a game, Presley. 

I tickled him back, and he gasped with a picture of momentarily surprise. He stumbled back, now being the one lying down whilst I have the upper hand. Unfortunately, Elvis does not appear to be as ticklish as I am. He is quick to grab hold of both of my hands. Our laughter stops, once we both realize the position that we are in. I am lying on top of him, with both of my hands engulfed in his hand and his right hand wrapped around my waist.  Our faces were inches apart from each other, that I could feel his breathing against my cheek. 

"The power you hold over me, Nova." He said softly, with a wide smile. 

His words register through my mind like a faint wave, for I couldn't help but admire him. His tanned skin, those piercing eyes of his. His lips looked so soft. A strand of his perfectly groomed hair overshadowed part of his face. 

"You're beautiful," I said, unable to stop myself. 

Elvis grinned and shook his head, "Nah, you should see the view from 'ere. That's the breathtaking one." 

I blushed but shook my head still. 

"Oh, here you go with your flirting again," I replied, chuckling. 

"Always with you."

taglist:

@literally-just-elvis-fics

@obsessedwithurlove

@simplyamberj

@ilovereadingfanfics

[lgcxmimi]

❥ - intro & q4 plot call and tracker ❕

back at it again with another muse. if you've not connected the dots, hi i'm bee-- the mun behind jasper! ( jaemin fc, aka @lgcxjasper). i couldn't help myself and brought lovely emi here, but you can call her em, or mimi if you're really cute. she's a bit of a firecracker, but she's fun, and will work her ass off to get to where she needs to be. as usually, like/reply to this post and i'll reach out to connect! i'm usually always on discord, just ask for my user!

meet emi, though most people just call her em, and if you've been allowed to call her mimi consider it a privilege. she's been at legacy for a few years and a solid amount of that time has been absolutely working until she can't stand in order to prove she does belong here. the rest of that time is spent living a live she didn't have the privilege of before, having the time of her life, frankly.

she's an 01 liner, 22 years old and has been at legacy since july of 2021. she auditioned in january as well, but was rejected and told to work on her confidence, and so she did exactly that to land a spot and be unforgettable the next time.

she's from nagoya, born and raised until she was able to audition, officially moving to seoul. yes, she can speak in dialect, though she knows the tokyo dialect as well.

she's japanese-korean, as her dad was korean, so she knows the language just as well. she was constantly practicing and keeping her fluency which was perfect, considering she's found herself at legacy.

(tw: parental death, single-parenting, emotional trauma, pregnancy) speaking of daddy dearest, she lost her dad when she was 8, nearly 9 years old suddenly. her little sister was only one at the time, and her mom worked tirelessly to make sure her daughters had the best possible life they could.

... which proved to be easier said than done. emi's life was less than cushiony, and it's even more of a reason to make it and debut in anyway she can. she wants to make sure her sister can do whatever she wants, and repay her mom for all the sacrifices she made to make sure they were okay, even if they weren't in the best of situations.

she has plans to be a true ace in the industry, though right now she excels in vocals, performance and dance. she likes showing how much she's improved, and while she's definitely had criticism, it doesn't get her down, only fuels her to be better each and every time. she's gotten to the point where she even loves evaluations.

got to seoul and really had a chance to shine and have a bit of fun, and... that may be a bit of an understatement. she's blossomed a lot being on her own and going to school and training. she's made friends and foes, seen some debut and head back home, but she has no plans on stopping. when she's not training she's playing video games, shooting hoops, reading, or simply just hanging out.

emi is full of energy, but she's not all sunshine and roses either. she's sweet, but she doesn't go out of her way to make friends or go to places she's not wanted. she will get along with everyone until they give her a reason not to, but she loves to drink and have a good time AND still make it early to practices. sort of a tough cookie to crack unless you're really close to her. absolutely loves to laugh and finds a hard time staying still. she's also a severe flirt and thrives on competition.

THE TRACKER

open events: event 001 event 003 event 005 other events: dec sns (due jan 6th ) trainee mission 015: traditional korean games [due jan 6th]- w/@rowonlgc (x) [✓] educational videos [due jan 6th] - (available!) other threads: long time no see w/ @lgcseojin [✓] a sense of urgency w/ @lgcsujin [✓] long night w/ @cherrylgc [✓]

[praeteritus-memories]

❥❣❅✍✺❧☺☹♯☮ (for kakyoin)

❥- Can often/easily can your muse get heartbroken?

(I think pretty easily if only because he's so used to being alone for so long that having his heart broken = being alone again that it ends up becoming really REALLY hard on him.)

❣- What calms your muse down?

(Video games and reading are Kakyoin's best ways to calm him down, he's a nerd at heart so really anything kind of nerdy is relaxing for him~)

❅- Favorite time of the year?

(Summer! Not only is the Summer considered cherry season, but Kakyoin's birthday is also in the Summer and he does love his birthday so how can he not? The hot weather is annoying, but hey he can put up with it if he can have a cherry parfait!)

✍- Can your muse write? How well/How bad?

(Kakyoin has very pretty handwriting! It's very elegant and swirly, when it's writing in the Western alphabet anyway, his handwriting in Japanese is just as neat, just less swirly since Kanji and Hiragana don't need swirls as much as Western cursive does lol)

✺- Something your muse finds pretty

(Ironically, Kakyoin does find emeralds to be really pretty. He's often considered someday breaking down and buying a nice pair of emerald earrings but a part of him is too humble to spend too much on jewelry when it's not a gift from someone else)

❧- What is your muse’s favorite kind of food?

(Cherry desserts! You name the dessert with cherries in it, and Kakyoin absolutely loves it!!!)

☺- Something that makes your muse happy

(Being able to just be his nerdy self and share facts he knows about where he and that person are or something like that!)

☹- Something that makes your muse sad/upset

(Anytime people pretend like they know/like him when they don't even bother to get to know him on a surface level.

It just reminds him of how lonely he is and how he feels like no one will ever understand him.

It's a large reason why he hates chocolate actually, girls would give him basic chocolate without even bothering to notice he doesn't even like it and clearly prefers fruit flavors over anything else.)

♯- Something that gets your muse angry

(If there's one thing he hates, it's slobs and people who look down on him. It's why he had a tough time getting along with Polnareff in the beginning, they're polar opposites to a point where Kakyoin would have very obvious outburts at him.

Not to mention the stand baby who kept toying with Kakyoin's own pride constantly with it's abilities)

☮- How much your muse worries about appearance?

(A lot, surprisingly! He's really proud of his confusing mullet and curl so he puts in a lot of effort to keep it looking pristine and neat. He also likes to dress sharply and perfect, part of the reason he wore his school uniform for the entire trip despite the fact that he wasn't even in school lol)

[seanfalco]

II. Whistledown’s Mistake

The Perfect Match     ➛ A Timeline Anomaly Bridgerton!AU by @seanfalco​ & @super-unpredictable98​

Dear Gentle Reader,

Another social season is upon us and Miss Blossom Bellamy, this year’s potential Diamond, has just entered society in a much a more gracious manner than her elder sister Lydia, who has rebuked all suitors since her debut and is quickly on the way to spinsterhood, along with her closest friend Winrey Lewis.  However, when not one, but three eligible young gentlemen rejoin the ton after years of being away, the social scene is certain to be turned on it’s head. Let the race to find the perfect match begin!

❥ Word Count: 8.2k ❥ Tags/Warnings: Nathan Young x oc, Sean Falco x oc, Regency AU ❥ a/n: Fun fact: The actress who plays Ruth in Misfits episode two is the very same who plays Lady Trowbridge. A perfect little coincidence.

Masterlist

❝And what are your plans for the day, brother?” Nats asked as Nate joined them at the breakfast table.

"I don't know... take my horse for my ride?  Maybe look for some new young ladies at the park, allow Miss Lewis to miss me.  Do you have any specific plans?"

Nats rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips. “I thought I might call on Miss Bellamy,” he admitted. 

“I was thinkin’ the same,” Sean murmured, taking a sip of his tea. 

“So, you two found some young ladies that have caught your interest then?” their mother exclaimed, perking up at the thought.

"Oh for sure, mama!  They were smitten, completely enchanted by these two sisters.  The two looked quite similar despite their age gap, except one of them behaved herself as if the ballroom was a boxing match," Nate snorted before taking a large bite of his apple.

Louise’s expression darkened for a moment as she glanced at Nathan. “I heard that you had a hand in that as well,” she said, lifting the newest edition of Whistledown’s scandal paper. “Perhaps it would do well for me to meet this family soon,” she mused.

"You know your boy, Mama, I'm an angel!" Nate smirked before getting up. "Now If you'll excuse me, the dowager Lady Trowbridge and I have a conversation to finish."

Deciding to indulge Lady Trowbridge, Nathan joined her and the young lord for a promenade.  He was usually luckier with widows; it would be ridiculously easy to have her, but the one he was truly hoping to run into was Miss Lewis.

Out in the park, Win sullenly followed after her step mother, begrudgingly staying in stride with her step sister. 

"Hoping to run into anyone today, Winrey?" Delilah asked pointedly, her gaze scouring the other faces out promenading. 

"No, just glad for the fresh air," Win countered, trying not to let Delilah's jab get to her. "I'm surprised no gentlemen have come to call on you today, especially after dancing with so many last night," she taunted, her lips twitching at the way Delilah bristled.

However, Win did a double take when she espied Lady Trowbridge on the arm of one Nathan Young and her lips pressed into a thin line at the sight. 

"I am talking to you!  What are you staring at—?" Delilah snapped, turning to follow Win's line of sight.  "Oh, one of the new gentlemen to join Mayfair," she mused, looking Nathan over with a look that Win didn't care for.  "I didn't get a chance to dance with any of them last night..." 

Nate simply waved at Win from across the park with a roguish grin and tipped his top hat.  Oh, but she looked furious... and he couldn't be happier about it.  Everything was working according to his plan. 

"Oh, piss off," Win muttered under her breath, hastening her steps to get ahead of her step sister while pointedly tearing her eyes from Mr. Young.  Finding a spot beneath a shady tree, she settled onto the deserted bench to read.

"Lovely afternoon, is it not, Miss Lewis?" Nate asked, standing behind her.  "May I join you?"

“I thought you were escorting Lady Trowbridge,” Win said, not bothering to look up from her book.

"She had to tend to the little Lord, he's bein' fussy," Nate chuckled.  "I did not think you would even notice my presence, I thought there was nothing about me worthy of notice," he teased, using her words from the night before against her.

Win scowled, silently cursing herself.  "I didn't,” she snapped.  “I merely noticed Lady Trowbridge's lovely new dress and happened to see you with her."

"I see... interesting of you to say you liked her dress, your face gave me a different idea.  Indeed, you seemed displeased.”  Nate sat down next to her, taking his hat off and shaking out his curls.

Win tried her best to ignore him. "I don't remember giving you permission to join me," she said, turning the page of her book.

"Would you like me to leave?" Nate asked innocently, his hand brushing her shoulder as he leaned back against the back of the bench.  "I could leave, but I'm afraid our conversation would be much more interesting than the one I would have with Lady Trowbridge."

Win bit her lip, weighing her options.  On one hand, she didn't really want him to leave.  On the other, she didn't want that to go to his head and have him think she was in the palm of his hand. 

"And what might we converse about, my Lord?" she asked, avoiding his question, her gaze flicking over to him, admiring his profile for a moment.

The response was a victory in Nathan’s book and he grinned even wider.  "I don't know, maybe I should start by apologizin' for last night.  I did not mean to be so... abrasive."

Again, Win deliberated.  Speaking with him was like playing a game of chess.  

"I suppose I acted rather rashly myself," she conceded.  "But I wish you would answer me truly.  Do you have any intent to find a wife?" she asked.

"I have never found a lady that made me think of marriage before.  I don't precisely plan on finding a wife, but... I'm also not against marriage," Nate admitted.  It was true; he just didn't want to rush like his father and make the same mistakes he had.

"I… feel the same," Win admitted, setting her book down to actually look at him.  "That is why I haven't yet accepted anyone's hand.  I want to find someone who... stimulates me," she murmured, her lips twitching mischievously.

"I can definitely stimulate you, that is for sure," Nathan's voice dropped and he leaned closer slightly.  "I've been told I'm quite good at stimulating young ladies," he joked.

Win laughed, throwing her head back and attracting some stares from passersby.  "Oh, I'm sure you could, my Lord," she replied, leaning in as well before pulling back, her face warming.  "Except as you just admitted, who will say if you will stay?  I feel you are the type to bore easily."

"Usually I am, but you challenge me.  I've never been challenged by a lady before.  They are always so happy just to attract my attentions..." Nate shrugged, he couldn't make any promises, but he hadn’t feel the need to dance with any other young lady after Win had left the night before.

"Never?" Win gasped, tilting her head.

"No, I am used to having my way with impressionable young ladies who know no better or older ladies who have just lost their husbands," Nate said out loud for the first time.

Win blinked at him, surprised at his candor.  "Does that truly make you happy, my Lord?"

"It does not make me sad... I never truly stopped to think about what makes me happy," Nate frowned in thought.

"Well, maybe you should," Win said, noticing Delilah heading their way. "Shit..." she swore under her breath as her step sister neared. 

"Winrey, there are you.  And who is this, you've been entertaining, unchaperoned?" she asked with a smirk, looking Nathan up and down with interest. 

"We are in a very public park," Win shot back, gesturing to those nearby. "I would hardly call that unchaperoned."

"Not even with my biggest efforts would I be able to hide any improper acts in front of all these people," Nate chuckled.  He had spotted this particular lady at the ball, but she seemed so high in her in-step, it was laughable.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce me?" Delilah exclaimed expectantly, placing her hands on her hips, and Win rolled her eyes. 

"Mr. Young, this is my step-sister, Delilah Edwards.  Delilah, this is Mr. Nathan Young, of Ireland."

"Hello, Miss Edwards," Nate murmured, making no effort to take her hand, eager to show Win he wasn't interested in impressing any other ladies.  Delilah frowned when he ignored her outstretched hand and Win had to quickly stifle her amusement behind her own gloved hand.

"Delilah, Winrey!  We are leaving!" Lady Karen called, ushering for them to follow. Win let out a sigh and reluctantly stood.  

"Will I see you tonight?" she asked quietly.

"Most definitely," Nate nodded, sparing Win a flirty wink as she left, just as Lady Trowbridge returned, carrying her son. 

"Apologies, I did not mean to keep you waiting, my Lord" she said, taking the seat Win had just vacated and Win's grin slipped, but she quickly schooled her expression and followed her step sister. 

"I'm going to ask him to dance tonight," Delilah exclaimed matter of factly, glancing over her shoulder as they departed. 

"You do that," Win huffed, not bothering to look back.

"I hear someone caused a scene last night... again," Lady Bellamy scolded once Lydia finally left her room. "When will you learn?" 

"In her defense, the young man was incredibly disrespectful towards Winrey," Lord Bellamy said, stroking his daughter's hair. "She did dance with a gentleman, and she was the picture of candure." 

"That is good news.  Let's hope this gentleman decides to call on you today!"

"You have callers, ma'am," one of the servants announced as the Bellamys gathered in the drawing room, Lydia playing the pianoforte while Blossom accompanied her with the violin. "The Youngs are here." 

"Let them in!" Lady Bellamy exclaimed.  "And make sure we have plenty of biscuits and tea for our guests!"

"Good afternoon, Lord Bellamy, Lady Bellamy," Sean said, bowing his head as he led his family, sans Nathan, into the Bellamy drawing room. "Miss Bellamy, Miss Blossom," he added, flashing her a smile.

"Good afternoon!” Lord Bellamy rushed to shake his hand and introduce himself to their mama. "Please join us, tea should be here any moment." 

"These handsome boys must be the ones I've been reading about.  I'm delighted to finally meet you," Lady Bellamy greeted.  "I must congratulate you, Lady Young."

"Why thank you, Lady Bellamy, and I must congratulate you on your beautiful family as well," Louise exclaimed, taking a seat at the table with her. "It seems two of my sons have expressed interest in your daughters.  Perhaps we have much to talk of," she mused, accepting the cup of tea from a servant. 

"Seems like it, I am not surprised to see Blossom's heart being stolen, but my Lydia... she is one sharp lady, very strong-minded," Lady Bellamy laughed.  "You can not imagine how pleased I am." 

"How are you feeling today, Miss Blossom?" Sean asked, offering her a bouquet of flowers.

"Much improved, my lord," Blossom accepted the flowers and brought them closer to take in the scent. "Thank you so much, they are so beautiful."

“Ah, I am so glad t’hear that,” Sean murmured, watching her with a dreamlike expression on his face.

"Miss Lydia," Nats greeted, tipping his hat to her before taking it off.  "I hope my twin’s awful personality did not tarnish your evening last night," he said, hoping to charm her with a roguish grin of his own.

"I do not believe Mr. Nathan has that sort of power, not after you were so kind and brought back so many memories I hold dear," Lydia smiled, her heart fluttering.

"You've no idea how glad I am t'hear that," Nats sighed, gulping down the entire cup of tea set before him.

"I hoped you would visit today, after we were interrupted last night," Lydia picked up a biscuit as she took a sip of her tea. 

“Course!” Nats exclaimed before reigning himself in, quickly covering his mouth as a bubble of air escaped his lips. 

"Perhaps we should set up a match?" Louise murmured, her eyes flicking over to their children speaking across the room. 

"Perhaps... Can you imagine, Charles, both of our girls married—Blossom finding her husband her very first season?  It is a dream come true, Lady Young!" Lady Bellamy exclaimed.

“It seems even this Lady Whistledown has noticed,” Louise said, opening the papers.  “Just think, my Sean and your Lydia, and my Nathaniel and your Blossom,” she mused, failing to notice Lady Whistledown’s mistake. 

"Wait, that's not how–" Charles exclaimed with a grimace, remembering the night before and which couples had danced together. 

"Perfect!" Linda interrupted his train of thought. "Look at them, they all get along!  Whenever they have children we can all spend the holidays together.  We’ll have the most beautiful family!" 

Lydia covered her face to quiet her laughter.  If Win was here she would tease me to no end, she would make a point to point out the redness on my cheeks... 

Meanwhile Blossom nearly choked on her tea, for a moment Nats stole her gaze, just as their mamas were watching. 

"Oh my..." she whispered, coughing against the back of her hand. 

“How lovely!” Louise exclaimed, clapping her hands together, noticing the way Blossom was looking at Nats.

"Do not worry about the dowries, as soon as your boys propose we have everything prepared," Linda assured, setting her tea cup down.  "So, it is decided, we could seek a special marriage license from the archbishop, but not too soon... this way the rest of the ton won't think my girls are somehow compromised," she suggested. 

"It is decided," Louise nodded in agreement, grinning into her tea cup.  "Tonight at the Trowbridge Ball, our children shall attend together before we make the marriage announcement." 

“My apologies,” Nats exclaimed, “but are you quite alright, Miss Lydia?” he asked, noticing how flushed she’d become, afraid he’d offended her.

"I am!  I am more than alright," Lydia answered, still trying to fight a fit of giggles as she gently patted her sister's back. "I just– it is unseasonably warm..."

"Is it warm? I hadn't noticed," Nats murmured, his gaze quickly dipping down to Lydia's bosom and back up again. 

"I'm quite sensitive to the warmth, I get flushed so easily..." Lydia tried to laugh it off.  In fact, Nats was unlike any other man she had met before, he wasn't stuck-up and humourless like most of the London crowd.

Nats' lips stretched into a grin. "Are you sure it's not that I perhaps made you warm?" he asked, the very appearance of innocence despite his grin. 

"You forget yourself," Lydia tried to sound outraged, but he couldn't be more right. "What extraordinary act of yours could possibly make me warm, Mr. Young?" 

"And are you quite alright?" Sean asked, frowning at Blossom's disheveled expression.

"Yes, I apologize," Blossom put on a smile, still trying to understand what that feeling stirring in her stomach was.  "I was startled, that is all." 

"I'm afraid my brother can be quite startlin'," Sean replied smoothly. "You mentioned the other night that you play the pianoforte, amongst other instruments. Might I have the honour of hearing you play?" 

"Of course, my lord, it will be my pleasure," Blossom finally felt in control again, her confidence restored as she sat in front of the pianoforte. 

"Hmm, I don't know, why don't you tell me, Miss Bellamy," Nats teased, enjoying watching her get riled.  

As Blossom began to play, Sean sat nearby to watch, enthralled, oblivious to their mamas’ schemes in the corner. 

"My husband shall know what makes me warm and no one else," Lydia teased back, fanning herself delicately. "Well… my husband and Miss Lewis, of course.  She knows everything about me." 

"I see," Nats mused, looking thoughtful.  "Perhaps I shall need to speak with Miss Lewis, then.  I have many questions," he smirked, winking at her. 

"Good luck, Mr. Young, I have Win's complete loyalty, she would never tell you my secrets.”  Lydia bit her lip softly, wondering if she wanted him to know of her... proclivities.

Nats raised an eyebrow at her as he brought his drink to his lips, drinking down most of his tea at once.  There was something about her that made him want to know more. 

The movement of Nats' adam's apple left Lydia hypnotized and she fanned herself more aggressively.  "W-would you like some more tea?" 

Nats noticed that her flush had seemed to deepen and he agreed, if only to further fan the flames, as it were.

"It seems we're going to the Trowbridge Ball together tonight," Lydia murmured.  "I hope your twin doesn't cause any more problems for us." 

"You and me both," Nats grumbled, forgetting himself for the moment and stuffing a biscuit into his mouth. 

"Jesus Christ..." Lydia swore under her breath, tearing her eyes away from him before he noticed her stare, glancing at Sean and her sister instead. 

Wiping the crumbs from his hands, Nats finally realized what he'd done and grimaced, having missed some crumbs on his face. 

"Manners," Louise warned quietly as she noticed her son's behavior. "What shall your future wife think? That you were raised by animals?" 

"We do not mind, we grew up with a brother," Lydia laughed. 

"Sorry mum," Nats mumbled, though he brightened at Lydia's laugh. 

"We must bid our guests goodbye for now, girls," Linda announced, getting to her feet next to the pianoforte.  "We must pick up your dresses at the modiste for tonight's ball." 

"It was a pleasure t'see you again.  You play quite beautifully," Sean said, bowing to Blossom before nodding to Lydia and following his mother.

"I guess I'll see yeh tonight," Nats murmured, winking at Lydia as he too made his exit. 

"Thank you, I shall see you tonight!" Blossom bowed before falling on the couch with a huge sigh once they’d made their exit. "Isn't he dreamy?" 

"He is..." Lydia giggled, squirming in excitement. 

"There's only one issue, my love!" Charles called, but his wife had already hurried out of the room, too busy ushering the girls to the modiste to listen.

That evening Blossom and Lydia made sure to look their best—Blossom in a beautiful pink gown with embroidered flowers and her hair up in a plaited updo while Lydia wore a teal dress with long sleeves and amethyst gems, both of them covered in diamonds. 

"Win!  You will not believe what happened when Mr. Young called on me earlier!" Lydia exclaimed, spotting her friend in the crowd and hurrying to her side.

"I have news of my own," Win whispered back, taking Lydia's arm and pulling her somewhere more private.  "What happened with you?" she asked excitedly.

"Nathaniel and I were having some tea and not only was he eating like a beast, he- he... you know!  I cannot say it out loud or I shall blush!" Lydia squealed, nearly vibrating in place. 

"Oh my God!" Win gasped, knowing how strangely alluring Lydia found that sort of thing, even if it didn't make sense to her.  "Did he notice how flustered you were?" she wondered.

"Oh, he noticed my embarrassment, but I doubt he was able to puzzle out the why of it," Lydia whispered mischievously. 

"Perhaps he'll continue doing it without realizing," Win joked teasingly before snorting in amusement.

Lydia giggled, smacking Win’s arm playfully with her fan.  "And what of your news?  Did something happen?" she asked.

"I was out promenading this morning, and I may have run into Nathan Young," Win answered discreetly. "And... he might not have been such an arse this time,” she added, fighting the grin that threatened to tug at her lips.

"Oh my!  Maybe you will be the lady who will reforms that rake!  How exciting!" Lydia exclaimed, clapping her hands.

"I don't know about that, but I suppose I did enjoy spending time with him earlier, until Lady Trowbridge returned," Win grumbled.

"He was promenading with that old hag?  She has no class, always showing off too much of her chest.  She was lucky to trap Lord Trowbridge in the first place, may he rest in peace," Lydia muttered, tilting her friend's chin up.  "There's no comparison, if he has any taste, he should keep being kind to you."

Win smiled softly, embracing Lydia for a moment.  "Speak of th'devil," she murmured, opening her eyes and noticing the Young family entering the ball.

"Let us say hello!" Lydia dragged her friend across the ballroom, much too excited.  "I heard they have champagne tonight..." 

"Lady Young!" Lady Bellamy greeted, followed by her husband and other children. "Your boys look dashing tonight!"

“And your daughters are the picture of beauty!” Lady Young exclaimed. 

"You are too kind, Lady Young," Blossom grinned, curtseying. 

"Go on, Sean, why don't you ask Miss Lydia to dance?" Louise murmured in her son’s ear. "Do not be shy." 

“Miss Lydia?” Sean asked, slightly confused, but he obeyed his mother and asked Lydia to the floor. 

"What?  But the champagne..." Lydia murmured in dismay, though she wouldn't dare look disappointed and be rude to her sister's suitor. "Pardon me, my Lord.  I did not mean to be ungrateful." 

“No, I’m sorry, perhaps after this dance I could get you some refreshment,” Sean offered awkwardly. 

"Oh, that is not what I meant.  I was hoping your brother would like some..." Lydia shook her head. 

“Oh… I uh, I guess, would you like to dance, Miss Blossom?” Nats asked, just as confused as his brother as he watched Sean take off with Lydia. 

"Um... yes?" Blossom took his hand. "You don't mean to tell me you want my blessing to ask for my sister's hand," she laughed. 

“I—“ Nats floundered, nearly tripping over his own feet.  He barely knew Lydia, and though he very much enjoyed her company, would it be presumptuous to ask for her hand so soon?

“Oh! I see,” Sean replied, raising his hand to press his palm to Lydia’s as they pranced in a circle.  “You’re quite enamored with him, aren’t you?” 

"I hope I am not being a fool for admitting it, but yes..." Lydia mumbled somewhat quietly.  "I can only hope he shares the same feeling and returns my affections." 

“You’re certainly not a fool,” Sean assured her.  “My younger brother seems quite enamored with you as well.” 

"And you seem quite smitten by my sister's charms," Lydia commented.  "I probably should not tell you, but... she could barely sleep last night." 

“Really?” Sean asked, his lips twitching into a grin as his eyes sought Blossom across the room.

"Unfortunately I was the one she chose to keep her company in the garden when she could not sleep," Lydia chuckled. 

Sean couldn’t help but laugh at that.  “My apologies, my Lady,” he chuckled as the song came to an end.

"Do not worry, my Lord, seeing my siblings happy is what I hope for the most, it was my pleasure.”

"Do not be frightened, I was confused, but I suppose dancing with my suitor's brother is part of the courting process?" Blossom wondered. "It is important I get along with his family, is it not?" 

“I guess?” Nats replied.  “I’m not quite sure why our mamas insisted.” 

"Neither am I..." Blossom laughed.  "But I am willing to enjoy it, you are a fair dancer, sir.  My sister is quite lucky." 

 “Thanks,” Nats grinned, sashaying across the dance floor with Blossom.  “You look so much like her,” he observed.  “The family resemblance is strong.” 

"Thank you, I believe her the most beautiful lady I know, just as our mama," Blossom looked over his shoulder, stealing a glance at Lyddie and Sean. 

“Yes, very beautiful…” Nats murmured, watching Lydia spin in his brother’s arms. 

Suddenly the memory of what happened at teatime invaded Blossom's mind unbidden and she became very aware that Nats was holding her.  She did not like him in that way, by any means, but she couldn't help that strange feeling.  

“You alright?” Nats asked, noticing the strange look on her face. 

"Y-yes, I just remembered something, it is not your fault," Blossom swallowed, her chest heaving at the thought. 

“Would you like something t’drink?” Nats asked, still somewhat worried as Sean and Lydia arrived, joining them.

"Yes, please," Blossom nodded.  She was still as wise as a child about any sort of marital relations, she knew married people made babies, but had no idea how, making that feeling much more confusing. 

“Mr. Young,” Win greeted, inclining her head to Nathan as the others took off toward the dance floor.

"Miss Lewis."  Nate replied, kissing the back of her hand.  "Y'look particularly gorgeous tonight."

“You look rather dashing as well,” Win murmured, her face warming as she gazed up at him—his haphazard curls somewhat wrangled.

"Would you give me the honor?" he asked, offering his arm.  "Let us hide from your step-sister on the dance floor."

“I quite think it is you who should be hiding from her, and my step mama,” Win said, taking his arm.  “I fear they may be scheming something…”

"Allow them to scheme all they want, you know quite well where my intentions lie," Nathan said, though he did not exactly know where they lie himself, but knowing that they definitely did not lie with Delilah.

“Do I?” Win asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Well, not with Delilah… and certainly not with Lady Trowbridge," Nathan teased.  "I am quite interested in being challenged for now."

Win directed a smirk at him and turned to stand face to face with him, placing a gloved hand on his shoulder and slipping one into his warm hand.  “Lucky me.”

"I was glad to hear you are not in a hurry to wed, it gives us time to enjoy ourselves like this and keep our freedom for the moment being."  Nathan placed his other hand on her back, stroking gently.

“It grants you your freedom, surely,” Win frowned.  “For me, being unwed is more constraining.  Every move I make is scrutinized and judged.  I can’t go anywhere without a chaperone…”

"Believe me, Miss Lewis, many ladies have been in my presence unchaperoned and were never discovered.  All you need is t'be careful about it," Nate drawled, shrugging.

“Oh, many?  I see,” Win said, stepping back abruptly at the song change.  “Excuse me,” she mumbled, making her way away from him, her chest suddenly rather tight.

"Miss Lewis!" Nate called, trying to follow her through the crowd as he hurried away. "Please do not run, I did not mean to sound insensitive."

“There you are, Mr. Young!” Delilah cried, intercepting Nathan and letting Win get away. “May I have this next dance?”

"Uh... my apologies, I was lookin' for Miss Lewis–" Nate muttered, trying to get away before he found himself dragged back to the floor with Delilah.

“Lydia!” Win called, hurrying to join her friends, her face flushed with angry embarrassment just as Nats returned with two glasses of champagne, one for each sister. 

"I’m afraid we cannot drink it, the bubbles upset our stomach," Blossom said as her sister elbowed her. 

"Just drink it slowly, sister," she hissed before noticing her friend making a b-line for them, a distraught look on her face. "Winnie, what happened?  Where is Mr. Young?"

“I think Delilah may have caught him, but she can have him,” she huffed, trying to push down the disappointed feeling that threatened to choke her.

“Oh! I didn’t know, can I get yeh anythin’ else?” Nats asked sheepishly, Sean already on it, quickly returning with two glasses of lemonade. 

“Is this better?” he asked and Blossom nodded, accepting the glass. 

"Our brother had never had a problem, just Lydia and myself.  Do you... like champagne?" she asked as casually as possible. 

“Yeah, though I’m partial to harder spirits.  I’ll drink basically anythin’,” Nats admitted, tipping back the glass of champagne while Sean drank his more politely.

"Oh dear..." Blossom laughed, her eyes traveling from one brother to the other.  She wished Sean would act more like Nathaniel, but she felt as if she would have to ask for it in private. Maybe once they were married… 

"What did he do?  That arse–” Lydia swore, “was he rude to you again?" she demanded, wrapping her arms around her friend.

“He was speaking of his past conquests so casually—“ Win cut off, shaking her head. “I don’t know why it should bother me so,” she mumbled, angry at herself.

"The past does not matter, Winnie, he is interested in you.  No one has such a strong reaction if they do not care about someone," Lydia said, half distracted by Nats, but wanting to give her friend all the support she needed.  "As long as he does not treat you poorly..."

As Nathaniel finished, he let out a contented sigh and set the empty glass on a servant's tray as they passed. "You sure you're alright?" he asked Blossom, glancing between her and Lydia, trying not to eavesdrop on her and Winrey's conversation. 

"I–I don't care," Win insisted, grabbing a glass of champagne for herself and drinking it just as quickly as Nats had.

Blossom's eyes grew seeing Win act in that way. "I am–I shall need some fresh air, is there a terrace somewhere?" she asked, looking around hastily. 

"This way," Sean said, taking Blossom's hand to lead her to the nearby terrace balcony.

"You know, Win, my papa courted many women before he met my mama and you know how much they love each other," Lydia offered.  "Reformed rakes are the best husbands, so they say."

"Perhaps, but first he must want to be reformed," Win murmured, noticing him coming their way, no doubt having finally escaped her step sister.

"Miss Lewis, can I please have a word?  In private?" Nate asked pointedly.  "I've endured your step-sister's dreadful dancing, it is the least you can do."

"Of course," Lydia grabbed another glass of champagne for Nats and one lemonade for herself as she left Win with Nathan. "Would you like to see the garden, Mr. Young?"

"I would love to, Miss Bellamy," Nats said, taking her arm, glad to be able to have more time with her.

"Fine," Win snapped, giving Lydia a helpless look before following him. 

"So, how was dancing with Blossom?  She is lovely, is she not?  I wouldn't be surprised if the Queen made her the diamond of the season," Lydia smiled, watching Nats carefully.

"She is, but I'm afraid she doesn't hold a candle to you, if I may say," Nats murmured, glancing at her to gauge her response.

"I happen to disagree, but I appreciate your compliment," Lydia shook her head fondly, taking a seat on a stone bench facing the house.  "I do not understand what our mamas were thinking..."

Nats snorted.  "I'm afraid I've no idea.  If they were to actually pay attention for a moment, I should think it obvious that Miss Blossom and Sean are a match... as are we," he murmured, glancing at her hopefully.

"Yes, we are," Lydia nodded, itching to take his hand.  She wanted to touch him without her gloves, to actually feel his touch.  "I hope your intentions are more noble than your twin's.  I should love to tell you what makes me warm someday."

Nats swallowed thickly. "My intentions are certainly more noble, though perhaps not entirely innocent," he added under his breath.  "I should very much like to know what makes you... warm," he breathed, taking her gloved hand, his thumb brushing over the back of it as he watched her.

"At our age I doubt anyone is entirely innocent... the spring awakening of my passions started long ago," Lydia looked down, knowing looking at him would only make her heart race even more.  "That is why I have been after the boy I've met in the past.  I made a vow to marry him."

"That is why you haven't married?" Nats asked, a memory tickling at the back of his mind. He would have to speak to his mother about it, to confirm what his heart was telling him.

"Yes, no one ever compared to him, he was kind to me when nobody else was.  I hear people say I am beautiful now, but when I was younger..." Lydia smiled sadly.  "The likes of Delilah Edwards, Prudence Featherington, or Cressida Cowper made fun of me.  I was scrawny, my nose was much too big for my face, my eyebrows too thick..."

Nats clicked his tongue. "As if they have any room t'talk."

"You are too kind, Mr. Young," Lydia grinned, she appreciated how brass he could be, how he ignored the rules sometimes.

"Nah, just speakin' th'truth," he shrugged.

“We should probably head back inside, our mamas will lose their minds," Lydia said reluctantly before she could succumb to his charms and compromise herself.

"Thank you, my Lord. I am not hysterical, I promise," Blossom joked as they stepped off the dancefloor and out onto the nearby balcony,  making sure plenty of people could still see them to assure no one would make up any rumors.  "I simply... I've been dealing with this weird affliction, I don't quite understand it." 

"I didn't think that," Sean assured her. "If you don't mind me asking... what sort of affliction?"

"It's a... a weird prickly feeling, almost like I'm being tickled, but from the inside of my stomach, and my hands tingle.  I might be coming down with something," Blossom grimaced. 

Sean had to fight to bite back a smile at her description.  "I'm afraid, I don't believe you're coming down with anything," he tried to explain gently, not wanting to embarrass her.  "It's quite normal actually.  It's something that happens... when something excites you." 

"So could this be a good thing?" Blossom mused, she definitely liked it, she longed for that feeling and wanted to actively seek it.  How bad could it be?  "You say it's normal, do you feel like that?" 

"Sometimes," Sean answered truthfully.  "It usually happens in the presence of ladies I find... pleasant," he elaborated, trying desperately to be subtle, while wondering what had made her feel so. 

"Oh... I suppose that makes sense, I find you very pleasant," Blossom admitted innocently, leaving out the part where his brother and Win seemed to have that effect on her as well, even though she didn't have feelings for them. "I hope I can make you feel that way, my lord." 

"Oh!" Sean exclaimed, clearing his throat. "Y-yes, I should think you do—er, will," he stuttered, trying to calm himself.

"You make me feel safe, it's so easy to speak with you," Blossom looked up at him. "I'm usually embarrassed with everyone else, with you I blush from joy." 

"I'm glad. Being with you is effortless," Sean replied, taking her hand to press his lips to the back of it. "I wish to know everything about you." 

"As do I... about you I mean," Blossom laughed, her heart melting from how gentle he was.  "I believe I know enough about myself." 

Sean laughed along with her. "How are you feeling? Any less light headed?" he asked, wanting to make sure she was alright. 

"Yes, I feel wonderful," Blossom looked back where her mama talked to Lady Young and Simon stared dreamily at his childhood friend, Miss Daniels. "Is it too bad that I do not wish to go back?"

"Perhaps you wouldn't be opposed to a dance, then?" Sean offered, nodding toward the dance floor. 

"I'd be delighted," Blossom took his arm. 

"See how your eldest treats Blossom?  He's already like her older brother," Lady Bellamy observed, pleased as she caught sight of the couple taking the floor.

"You must know, I did not mean to boast about my past lovers, I was simply trying to ease your worries," Nate tried to explain without offending Win again.  "If you were to find yourself alone with me, I wouldn't let anything bad happen." 

Win took a deep breath, finally looking at him. "I see.  Define bad," she prompted. 

"I would never do anything you are not comfortable with.  I would not touch you unless you begged for it," Nate's voice dropped.  "And if you did beg and I did touch you, no one would be the wiser." 

Win's breath caught in her throat, her voice having failed her as her chest heaved, beginning to feel much the same as Blossom was.  "Aren't you th'gentleman," she joked faintly, already wanting him to touch her.  

"I am, and as a gentleman I do not do anything a lady does not want," Nathan had to fight not to smirk watching her reaction.  It was probably the most adorable yet sensual response he had ever seen.  "Or compromise them in the eyes of the ton." 

"That's... good," Win breathed, biting her lip, her eyelids fluttering as she leaned in closer, drawn in like a moth to the flame.

"When you bite your lip like that it makes it so hard not t'kiss you," Nathan brushed the hair away from her face.  "But I will keep my promise, nothing you do not ask for." 

Subconsciously leaning into his brief touch, Win swallowed, her eyelids lowering.  She wanted nothing more than to give in to her passions, the temptation too great.  "Please," she whispered, her eyes flicking back up to his. 

"As you wish, Miss Lewis," Nate looked around to make sure they were alone before he pressed his lips to hers, gently caressing the back of her neck.  "Am I the first?"

Win sighed softly as his lips caressed hers, more gentle than she'd expected. "I'm afraid not," she answered, hoping to make him a little jealous with her response.

"I hoped to stay in your memory as your first, but I suppose I'll have to settle for bein' remembered as the best," Nate breathed, still inebriated by her perfume. 

"Cocky bastard," Win snorted, tangling her fingers in the edges of his jacket. "You have a high opinion of yourself."

 "I might not the brightest, but I know what I'm doin' when it comes to this," Nate held her in turn, close to his chest.

“You certainly do,” Win replied breathlessly, not wanting to stop, though her sense of reason had just begun to kick back in and fear of getting hurt began to leech into her chest. “Nathan, I—I need to stop,” she said, pulling back, though it took every bit of strength in her to do so.

"All right... did I do something wrong?" Nate asked, also quite frustrated for having to stop when all he wanted was a taste of her lips again.

"No, I..." Win faltered for a moment, pressing her hand to her forehead.  "A lady must play at least a little hard to get, mustn't she?" she asked, her voice fainter than she would have liked.

"You believe if you don't I shall lose interest?"  Nathan looked deep into her eyes.  "I can promise, you shall never be less alluring on account of kissin' me."

"But you will... lose interest, eventually," Win mumbled.  "Maybe it would be best if we–" she trailed off, seeking his lips despite her hesitance. 

"The risk of heartbreak is what makes this so much more thrilling," Nathan murmured, kissing her back, his hand sliding down her back.

As much as Win wanted to tell him No, she didn't want to risk any heartbreak, the words caught in her throat and she kept kissing him.

"Someone's nearby," Nate pulled away, though his hand lingered on the small of her back.  "If you'd like t'go any further I know ways t'make that happen... though probably not in the middle of a ball," he laughed softly.

"What're you doin'?" Nats hissed, catching Win in his twin's arms. 

"Nathaniel!" Win exclaimed, quickly stepping away.  What would Lydia think?

"Showin' the young lady how to enjoy herself," Nate smirked.  "She was enjoyin' herself... right?  Do not worry, it was just a kiss.  Maybe three."

"If your rakish ways come back t'bite me in th'arse, I swear–" Nats began, pointing at his brother until Win grabbed his arm, interrupting him. 

"You wouldn't tell anyone about this?  If my step mama finds out–"

"He will not, he knows what would happen if he did and how angry Miss Bellamy would be to see her best friend ruined because of him," Nathan hissed.  "Right, brother?"

"That's what I was just sayin'!" Nats snapped back.  "You're lucky it wasn't anyone else who came in just now."

"I know, I know... I promise to be more careful in the future, now will you escort us back to the ballroom?" Nate asked.

On the way back, Win kept her hands to herself, flinching when she saw her step mother notice her.  

“There you are, Winrey!  Lord Lumley’s been looking for you for a dance.” Karen’s eyes slipped to Nathan. “I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced.  I believe you’ve been spending some time with my step daughter,” she said, eyeing him interestedly.

"Good evening, ma'am," Nate took her hand against his will—she reminded him way too much of her daughter.  "Mr. Nathan Young, I just moved with my brothers and my mama. Your stepdaughter is absolutely lovely, it has been a pleasure to be in her company."

“Really?” Lady Edwards asked, surprise leeching into her tone. “Might that mean a proposal soon?” she pried, frowning.

"I should be most fortunate if Miss Lewis should accept to be my wife, though I cannot say I fancy myself worthy of her hand," Nate said, realizing that he did feel that way to some degree.

“Ah, I see,” Karen mused, her gaze flicking to Win, who rolled her eyes.  “Pretty words, my Lord,” she murmured, “if empty.” 

“Miss Lewis, might I have this dance?” Lord Lumley asked, appearing by her elbow. 

Hesitating a moment, Win looked to Nathan before reluctantly accepting, knowing her step mother would not be pleased if she didn’t.  Nodding to the Young twins, she went out to the floor.

"Empty... much like Miss Edwards' head," Nathan grumbled, taking his leave to get a drink. He couldn't complain about seeing Win dance with that bumbling idiot… After all, he did not own her.  "Tell me good news, brother, you and Sean?"

“We seem to be having luck with our respective ladies, but something strange is going on with mother. I think she might have gotten confused as to which young lady is which,” he replied, wearing a tiny frown.

"It is not Mama's fault, it was Whistledown," Nate snorted, momentarily forgetting that Win was dancing with someone else.  "She must've gotten our names confused.  Her last issue reported that Miss Bellamy danced with Sean, and Miss Blossom danced with you."

“And to think even the great Whistledown can make mistakes,” Nats muttered. “I’ll have to speak with Mother and rectify this misunderstanding,” he said firmly, his eyes following Winrey. “ Might I inquire what your intentions are with Miss Lewis?” he asked pointedly.

"You may ask, but I do not have an answer," Nate honestly replied. "Not even I know what my intentions are.  I find her beautiful, she is spirited and interesting, but that is all I know." 

"Congratulations are in order, I hear, Mr. Young," Lord Bridgerton exclaimed as he joined the twins at the refreshment table.

“On what?” Nats asked, frowning.

“On your engagement, of course.  I overheard your Mamas speaking about it.  I hope for your sake that Miss Blossom is less... stubborn than her older sister.  Miss Bellamy is as unpleasant as she is pretty."

"What?" Nats asked, forgetting himself for a moment. "Did you say engagement?" he spluttered. "To Miss Blossom?  But I–!”  Nats gaped at the other man, completely forgetting what he was going to say to his brother about courting Miss Lewis. "I must talk to Mother now!" he exclaimed, hurrying through the crowd.

"Mama!  Why did Penelope Featherington just congratulate me on my engagement to Lord Young?" Lydia demanded, rushing towards the table where Lady Bellamy and Lady Young were sharing an exciting conversation. "I am not engaged, let alone to the elder Lord Young!"

 "It is only a matter of time, dear," Linda grinned drunkenly.  "He will propose soon enough." 

"Not to me!"

"Mama!" Nats cried, arriving at the table at the same time as Lydia. "Why would you speak for me in calling an engagement?" 

"Because darling, it is clear how much you fancy the young lady!" Louise answered, patting his cheek, just as tipsy as Lady Bellamy. 

"Except you have the wrong lady," Nathaniel hissed, lowering his voice.  "I am enamored with Miss Lydia while Sean has his eyes on Miss Blossom."

"How is that possible?  You seemed so in love dancing earlier," Linda laughed, thinking the children were trying to mock them. 

"That wasn't love, it was friendly affection. Which is all I can possibly nurture for Lord Young," Lydia explained. "How are we supposed to fix this mistake when it seems half of the ton already has the wrong idea?

"Mother, what is the meaning of this?" Sean asked worriedly, joining his brother, Blossom's hand still in his.  At his exclamation, Louise began to take things more seriously. 

"Are you saying this isn't a jest?" she asked. 

"Yes!" Sean and Nats answered together.  "Why would you put this into motion without so much as consulting us?"

"We just saw a good match and—we imagined you would wind up engaged sooner or later," Linda seemed to sober up from fear alone. 

"We are adults!  The gentlemen would propose if and when they were ready for that commitment!" Lydia nearly sobbed.  The idea of not being able to marry the only man she actually liked was too painful.

"There must be something we can do to rectify this mistake," Sean, ever the voice of reason spoke up, though he was clearly not happy with his mother either.

"By now Lady Whistledown must know," Blossom's voice trembled nervously.  "Everyone should think we're... depraved!" 

"You made this mess, Mama!  You fix it, I am not marrying any man except for Mr. Nathaniel!" Lydia scowled.

"I could possibly understand the mix up if it were between myself and Nate, but Sean?" Nats groaned.  All the colour had gone from Louise's face and she looked to Linda next to her. 

"There is not much we can do tonight. Let us meet tomorrow to see what our options are."

"I need some fresh air!" Lydia marched to the terrace where she found Win, looking less than happy.  "Winnie, what is it?  Did something happen between you and Mr. Young?"

"Yes, but–" Win noticed the look on Lydia's face and frowned, instantly concerned.  "It doesn't matter, what's wrong?" she asked, taking Lydia's face between her hands.

"Mama and Lady Young decided to tell everyone I am engaged... to Lord Young!" Lydia cried, hugging her friend tightly.  "And Blossom to Mr. Nathaniel."

"You jest!" Win exclaimed, her own troubles forgotten.  "What were they thinking?"

"I don't know!  People have been congratulating us, everybody knows," Lydia whined.

"Do not worry, Lyddie, I'm sure your families will fix this terrible misunderstanding," Win assured her, pulling her into her arms for a hug.  "Everything will work out in the end."

"I really hope so," Lydia sighed.  "I think... I think I'm falling for Nathaniel."

"Tell me about it," Win murmured.

"Oh... so I am not the only one?" Lydia pulled away to look at her.

"Oh, I didn't mean, Nathaniel, I meant... nevermind," Win said quickly.

"Nathan, you are in love with Mr. Nathan Young!" Lydia couldn't help but smile.

"I wouldn't say love!  Maybe strong attraction," Win backpedaled.

"How strong?"

"Too strong," Win grumbled ruefully.  "He scrambles my wits when he's near me."

"You smell like his cologne," Lydia teased, poking her shoulder.  "If there is anyone who can change his mind about marriage, it is you, the most beautiful and intelligent lady of the ton!"

Win had to hide her to smile behind her hand.  "You have entirely too much faith in me, Lyds."

"You have earned it, Win," Lydia pressed her lips to her friend's forehead.  "You will need to tell me bit by bit everything he said!"

"I don't really remember..." Win whispered, leaning into Lydia's embrace.

"Do you not remember or are you hiding something?  Winnie, I know you quite well..."

"Would you think less of me if I told you... we kissed?" Win asked in a tiny voice.

"Think less?  Never!  Be slightly jealous... maybe," Lydia giggled, unable to think of the trouble their mamas put them through, too happy for her friend.  "I could never think less of you, Winnie!"

"Good, I was so worried.  It felt like my heart was about to beat out of my chest, but... I worry what will happen when he tires of me and moves onto the next lady," she confessed.

"Who says he will? You are the very best the ton has to offer, there is no one better than you!" Lydia insisted. "Maybe it is time for that rake to settle down."

"I suppose we shall see," Win sighed. "Either way, at least I will always have you."

"Always and forever," Lydia nodded.

Win noticed her step mother hovering by the door and let out a sigh.  “I better get going, but I shall come visit tomorrow and help you with your dilemma,” she promised.  “Do not fret, you will have your love match yet!”

@elliethesuperfruitlover @salvador-daley @firstpersonnarrator

[yeonban]

❥     𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒    [   𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂    ].

@ofdraiocht  asked: Heliotrope for Soma. Salvia for Naotora

DATE SOMA.

heliotrope :   does your muse believe in soulmates?

Contrary to what one may think after watching him interact with Tsubasa, he doesn't. Soma doesn't tend to spare much time to think about vague concepts such as this one, and on the off-chance that he does, he believes in people who are intrinsically more tied to one's soul than others, and in people who have an easier time getting closer to him in comparison to everyone else, but never in soulmates.

The idea of someone who's perfect for him existing somewhere out there might be nice as it stands - as a concept, but he has a much firmer belief in love as a choice rather than love as it's been received from the universe on a plate. Whether his opinion will change over time is debatable, but he will never use "soulmate" as a way to refer to his lover, not of his own volition at least (he may use it if they're particularly fond of the idea, but he wouldn't necessarily believe in it any more than he currently does).

Even if he were to consider soulmates to be a fact instead of a myth, he wouldn't see it as an one-time thing, but as multiple people because, as comforting as the thought of just one person representing everything you wish for can be, in a world like theirs where anyone can die at any time, believing in something like that would only serve to make life inexplicably more miserable if that one person were to die.

TAKEDA NAOTORA.

salvia :   is your muse possessive over people or things that matter a lot to them?  how do they express that possessiveness ,   or lack thereof? 

He is, but in a rather lowkey sense the majority of time. Naotora is a very sociable person, so he can understand other people's desires and needs to become close to someone he holds dear, and he generally isn't against it; if anything, he'll be happy that both sides have gained a new friend. It's only when the person/people in question start trying to become closer to his dear ones than he is, that his possessive streak comes in, and the way it's shown depends on who we're talking about.

If they were to try and go for a very good friend, namely Tatsuomi, Naotora would hang around him more often, give him less personal space than usual, bring up shared memories or the like in front of the other person that would drive the point home on just how close they are, and in private he may even pout in front of Tatsuomi until he's reassured that no one else has a chance of "usurping" his spot as his best friend.

If they were to try and go for Naoe, he'd be much more open about his possessiveness. He would make a point to always be touching Naoe in front of them in some form, whether that's by holding his hand, leaning in for smooches, wrapping his hands around his waist in public, resting his head on Naoe's shoulder or top of the head, having his hands rest on places no simple friends would have access to, so on and so forth. If he knew they had, without a shred of doubt, feelings for Naoe, he would do all of the above while maintaining eye contact with the person. Lastly, if they were to continue with their pursuit even after everything mentioned above, that's when he'd rather steer Naoe clear of them entirely.

But even without anyone proclaiming themselves as his rival on that front, Naotora still likes to show off that Naoe is his by leaving marks in spots that are visible for all to see (or that could be in certain scenarios depending on what Naoe is doing or the pose he's in) and by letting the marks Naoe has put on him be on full display as a way to flaunt Naoe's interest in him. It goes without saying that he's also physically affectionate on top of that both in public and private, but compared to when there is someone else vying for Naoe's attention, he's much more relaxed about it.

As for things, no, not really. He's perfectly fine with sharing or even lending the things that are precious to him to others (granted that they are careful with them). The only thing he shows some possessiveness over is his title as the Takeda Bushi's captain, but it's mainly because he doesn't want his ancestors' efforts of having the Takeda clan be on top go to waste.

[sincerely-krp]

I’m not saying the hs mods handled everything perfectly but I will say I’m glad that the mun who was removed is gone. It was clear from an adult stand point he was rude the entire conversation with them. Those who don’t agree most likely have never worked a corporate job. I don’t care if that’s a broad statement. It’s probably true. You can’t talk to people in the tone he did and they asked him at least three times from the ss he showed to be respectful. Do I think they handled how they addressed him perfectly? No I don’t. I just think he made the whole situation worse by being a dick.

So not only did he not listen to them he then turned around and hurt innocent people with his temper tantrum. The proof he posted just showed he was talking shit about people?? Which was made worse when he then tagging them? What kind of bastard has the balls to post someone without their permission, and then tag them so they can see how he and others talked about them behind their back? It’s just sad because one of the muses has been nice to legit everyone the entire two months I’ve been in this community and sure as shit didn’t deserve it.

It all left a bad taste in my mouth and it seems reading here they were trash anyway so good riddance. I think people need just need to remember mods are people too. They’re not perfect. Hopefully they learn from this! But this person clearly sucks and we’re all better off.

・❥・

[sorrowmarked]

❥      NON - SEXUAL   ACTS   OF   DOMINANCE . || accepting

[ defend ]  your muse defending mine’s reputation , dignity , or safety for them . -- @de2thletter (yona and Hak.)

The sun shone bright over the day as the princess wandered about the palace. Her mood was pleasant, she hummed a little tune off key. She almost would have missed it. The vicious gossip of palace courtiers cut through the perfect day, ruining it quicker than a storm could.

She shouldn't eaves drop but she listened in and caught them discussing Hak in hushed tones. They spread vicious rumors of how Hak had manipulated his way into the royal court, taking advantage of Yona's affections. Their words stung like poison-tipped arrows, and Yona felt her temper flare.

Unable to contain herself, she approached the group, her bright blue eyes flashing with anger. "What nonsense are you all spewing about Hak?" she demanded, feeling her anger continue to rise. "Hak is a man of honor and integrity. He has been by my side my whole life, and his loyalty to me is unwavering. I won't stand by and let you tarnish his name."

The courtiers were taken aback by Yona's sudden outburst. They had never seen the usually demure princess so fierce and determined. But Yona wasn't finished.

"Let me make one thing clear," she continued, her voice unwavering, carrying throughout the courtyard. "Hak earned his place through his skill, his courage, and his heart. He is more noble in character than any of you could ever hope to be. And if I ever hear any of you talking about him like this again, you will never be let back inside the court. I swear it."

[fluffyprettykitty]

Diamonds

Pairing: Selina Kyle x female reader (no other specifications)

Word count: 705 words

Outline: Selina loves to get you gifts but she loves it, even more, when you honor them.

Warnings: smut only, pet names, language, scissoring, if I didn't tag something or tagged something wrong pls let me know!

Author’s Note: This was inspired by @inklore's Selina dating headcanons. I read the gift-giving bullet point and it all came into my head! Also many thanks to @alohastyles-x for beta reading this! <3

dividers by @firefly-graphics //​ banners by @maysdigitalarts

Main Masterlist ・❥・Selina Kyle MasterList

NSFW UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

"Do you like it?"

She muses shifting in her chair and placing her hands under her chin looking up at you. You are studying the necklace between your fingers. Diamonds. Many diamonds are glistening in the light coming in from outside.

"This is expensive."

You blurt out in disbelief looking at her.

"I can't accept this, baby."

Selina shakes her head and sets her hands down, sinking herself in the armchair.

"Yeah you can, I didn't pay for it."

She winks at you and begins to pet the cat that just jumped into her lap.

"Baby..." You whine a little glancing between the necklace and her delicate frame.

"You don't like my gifts?" Selina pouts as she leans down to place a kiss on the cat's head.

With a deep sigh, you walk closer to the mirror on the wall and begin to size the necklace on your neck. It looked absolutely ethereal on you, silver crested with big blue opal crystals. A midnight dream. You shake your head with another sigh and place it on your neck until you feel her elegant fingers clasping it for you.

"See, I told you it would look perfect."

Selina places a kiss on your neck and places her hands on your arms caressing them slowly.

"I only want to be perfect for you."

"Good girl. You already are."

"Let me show you how perfect I can be."

"Oh, now you wanna play?"

With a smirk, you turn around and cup her face pulling her into a deep passionate kiss.

"I always wanna play."

“Very well then princess, I will bite.”

“Anything you want me to be and I will do it.”

"I want to fuck you wearing nothing but my diamond necklace."

"Your wish is my command, my queen."

Obediently you remove your clothes and stand naked in front of her, making sure your hair is away from the necklace so she could admire you better.

"How do I look?"

"Like my shiny toy."

A grin is visible on your face and you innocently, but purposely, place your hands under your breasts lifting them up for her before licking a stripe over them.

Selina shakes her head at the sight and takes off her clothes in one swift motion. Impatiently, she grabs your arm and shoves you on the couch followed by climbing on top of you. Trying to wrap your legs around her waist, she begins to grind her body on yours, without giving you a moment to breathe. Her hands go to your collarbones, looking at the necklace, while she moves her pussy against your body needily.

"You look so fucking pretty, angel."

Your response is your chorus of moans, lust filling your head and throwing away any thought while you are gripping her hips for some stability, some extra pressure. A primal need has overcome her and she is moving fast and rough, not caring for pleasantries, she needs to christen the necklace and she needs to do it now.

"Give it to me, baby, come on, shout my name like the good little whore you are."

"Baby, fuck!"

You curse out as you feel the coil inside you tighten, her desperation and her dirty talk only made you hornier, but only for her. A wave of electricity hits your body and you scream out her name, loud enough for anyone in the neighborhood to hear it, moving your hips uncontrollably. Selina comes after you with a loud shuddering fuck, pressing her pussy against your, shaking her body from above you, until she halts her movements, her head thrown back.

"Always such a godman pleasure doing business with you."

She collapses on top of you, tracing her fingers over the necklace.

"I might be open to more gifts in the future if you promise you are going to fuck me like that every time."

"Only caring about how hard I can fuck her. Interesting. "

"I already won your heart baby."

And you both had indeed.

“You know what else would look pretty covered in diamonds?”

“My tits?”

Selina grimaces, liking the idea of your breasts covered in diamonds but she shook her head no.

“That pussy deserves a diamond thong.”

“Will gladly accept it.”

If you want to be notified about my future stories please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on notifications!

[erenoir]

cry baby

“positive”

previous chapter | chapter 4 | next chapter | series masterlist

the day after you receive life-changing news, you struggle to decide what you’re going to do now, and start by trying to amend a relationship you haven’t given the chance to bloom. while in paris, eren begins to realize what he’s desperately missing.

💿 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚋𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛

❥ genre: rockstar!eren, modern au, high school sweethearts to toxic lovers, love triangles, drama, dark, angst, nsfw

❥ chapter warnings: 18+ dark content, toxic relationships, weed, vomiting, descriptions of a sex scene, hard asphyxiation, passing out [reader,] simulation of a panic attack [reader,] light mentions of drug use + suicidal ideation, discussion of food/eating, MDNI

❥ featuring: s4!eren jaeger x f!reader

❥ word count: 6.6k

❥ series summary: you used to be the muse to his lyrics, the reason he sang, but give a sick man enough money and soon you’re a pawn in his addictive cycle of love and destruction. everyone loves cry baby, but eren loved you most. he loved you as much as he fucking hated you.

a/n: the taglist has grown so much since i last checked, feeling very thankful that so many people are invested in the story as much as i am <3 xx reblogs + comments are much appreciated!

“I mean, she would always run out to the balcony every morning, lean over and… her face… when she caught sight of the Eiffel Tower she… she looked beautiful-”

His hands lifted the scuffed-up lighter to his face, the red one he took everywhere, the one covered in scratches and dirt. The lighter that saw Rome, Tokyo, Ibiza, London…  everywhere he used to take you. His thumb ran across the striker a few times before holding the end of the joint into the tiny flame. His eyes fluttered shut as his body sunk into the silk sheets, finally letting his head rest on the double-stacked pillows. The hand of the girl he slept with met his skin, inhaling sharply as she ran her fingernails down his chest, a pitiful attempt at getting his attention. He didn’t care about her or to know about her, but of course he needed someone to listen to him, he could only talk Armin’s ear off for so long. He wanted to talk and never shut up. He wanted to talk and not be shut up. He wanted to talk and for someone to shut up and listen. He wanted someone to give a shit. The last person that gave a shit about him was well out of the picture, he was the one that pushed them out of the frame. So now he had to look for a confessional in the random people that would indulge him. What he offered in return was sex, money, good drugs, and material things, all in exchange for an hour of their time to listen to him talk. Frankly, he didn’t care if their intentions were good or not. He didn’t give a fuck what information they sold to the tabloids, he was used to people using him, wringing him out and hanging him up to dry. So when the sex ended, when the money was deposited, and when the drugs were taken… Eren talked. And he talked about you.

“When we were younger… she had this fucking- it was a globe,” the girl that laid with Eren ran her fingers in circles along his collarbone, he shook his shoulder in response, insinuating that he didn’t want her touching him, but as everyone else in his life did, she continued.

“And um… I’d tell her to close her eyes and I’d spin the globe,” he chuckled at the image of you with one hand clasped over your eyes and the other extended with your pointer finger out. He’d stand behind you and hold your hand in his… you would always squeal in excitement. You were always just so excited for him.

“Eren! Eren fucking put my finger down already-”

“Would you wait? Hold on… I’m waiting for the perfect moment-”

You felt your finger hit the plastic, raised slightly to represent the terrain Eren had chosen for you. You had just finished studying for your calculus exam, your papers were scattered all over the floor of your bedroom and your textbooks laid open on your bed. Of course Eren’s guitar leaned against your nightstand, the piece of spruce had essentially become a decor piece in your bedroom at this point. You felt him pinch at your sides as he pulled your hand from your face.

“Open.”

Paris, France.

“Oh what a coincidence Eren… my finger just so happened to land on the one place you know I’ve been dying to go to since I was a kid-”

“It’s not rigged, I just have incredible timing,” he jested, his tongue pushing at the inside of his cheek as he tried to conceal a smirk. Of course he stopped the globe and perfectly placed your finger exactly where he wanted it to go. Paris had been your dream since you were a kid, you told him that anytime you two spoke about traveling the world, alone or together. Though Eren made it very clear that he wanted to do it with you, especially when he “books his first world tour.” His exact words, you couldn’t make something like that up. Not with Eren, when he wanted something… the way his green eyes lit up and his eyebrows raised… anyone could tell he wasn’t joking. If he wanted to go on a world tour one day, he would. You fully believed that he could too.

“You do? How are we getting to Paris then Jaeger?”

“Well, when I’m rich and famous and the world just can’t get enough of my music and i’m surrounded by people that wanna hear me sing and I’m booking shows and-”

“I get it! Jesus,” you laughed at his persistence, that was one thing you’d never not love about Eren. You’ve never met anyone more passionate, more full of life, when he spoke about music it was like the whole world stopped. The only things that mattered were you and him, and when he sat you two in your usual spot- the shag carpet in front of your bed. And when he handed you a headphone- you got the left and he got the right. The world stopped. And when he played you another new song. The world stopped. And when he spoke to you about it, the words that left his mouth sounded like poetry, a symphony conducted just for you. The world stopped. Eren was writing about you, he always was. You were convinced that the boy sat in front of you in his letterman jacket, the one that was desperately trying to balance a number two pencil on the bridge of his nose, was gonna be a fucking rockstar. It sounded stupid to everyone else but you two.

“I don’t know… I think that song could get us to Paris, no?”

“Eren, I don’t know if we can go to Paris if you don’t pass that calc test tomorrow…”

The brunette let out a wet cough, choking on the smoke that left his lips as he laughed at the memory of you scolding him over a math test after he promised that he’d take you to your beloved City of Light. That was something that you’d do. He looked over to the naked girl laying next to him, her face twisted into a look of jealousy. His red eyes glazed over as he took another hit, bare chest rising as he inhaled and lowering as he exhaled. Eren was too high to regard anyone else's feelings but his own.

“Could you believe she said that? She-”

“You know, you’re not really supposed to talk about your ex with your current girl-”

Eren’s eyes widened as he absorbed the words that left the stranger’s mouth. It was times like this where shit hit him. What shit? All of it. Everything. He fixed his gaze on the ornate chandelier that hung above the bed, slowly extending his arm over his nightstand and lowering his hand to rub his joint out on the glossy wood. You. Flashes of you projecting in his mind, strokes of you painting his brain, everything was you. He so desperately needed you to stop consuming every ounce of him. He hated you. He could fuck everyone in Paris and in every single face he would see you. Every voice that called his name sounded just like you. And as he laid in that bed with a stranger, a fucking nobody to him, he saw you.

He rose from the bed slowly, the blanket pooling around his ankles as he shook, the groan of a woman that wasn’t you rung in his ears and invaded the deepest parts of him. He didn’t hate you, he hated himself. It was a matter of figuring out how long it would take for him to finally realize that. A hand grabbed at his wrist, tugging at it softly and beckoning him to return to the comfort of the sheets.

“Don’t touch me-”

“Eren, don’t be ridiculous… come here,” her hand pulled once more, her whines tugging at the fine thread Eren had tied them together with. Every person in his life except for one had a single thread, one to connect them, one to break easily if he didn’t see them fit to be in his life. To Eren, most people were disposable. So he used and replaced and used and replaced without any issue. That’s how he’s always done it. Eren thought things were replaceable. How naive was he to think that he could replace you?

“Get the fuck out, now.”

“Eren!”

“You- you’re not my current girl… you’re not my anything… now get the fuck out or I’m calling security,” he scoffed, pulling his briefs up and walking to the chair where her clothes were strewn. He collected her belongings and opened the door to his hotel room. She sat there with the covers raised above her breasts as she glared Eren down, curling a finger around the necklace he gave her and ripping it off her neck. Another one bites the dust, Eren thought, his grip on her clothes tightening as he chucked them into the hallway, resulting in a bewildered screech from his now unwanted guest.

“My ex wouldn’t do this shit, if you really cared to know more about her.”

Your knuckles strained on the rim of the toilet, your stomach contracting and your face flushed and sweaty. You looked ghastly, staring ahead at the toilet seat cover pulled up to meet the water tank. Your knees ached from how they pushed into the cool floor, the lines between the tiles forming shiny indentations into your soft skin. You puked again, you should be getting used to it by now. But the feeling of you gagging and the milky aftertaste that throwing up left in your mouth was everything but something you’d ever get used to. It was a reminder, a wake up call, an unpleasant one, that yes, you do in fact have a vessel growing inside of you. Everyday was another day waking up and debating with yourself whether or not you were worth anything at all, and if you decided you were worth nothing, who would care if you were gone. It was numbing, repetitive, and you were growing sick rather quickly, and not only physically but mentally. There was no motivation to care for yourself, no motivation to do something worthwhile, there was only time to drown in apprehension, and think about a future nine months from now. Your life was on hold, it was stopped dead in its tracks and now there’s a mountain in its path, you could either climb it or let yourself wither away at the bottom of it, until you were nothing but bones.

Cool fingertips graze the back of your neck and a damp towel drags across your clammy nape. Mikasa blows on the back of your neck, her breath cooling down your hot skin before she slides down to the floor next to you. She gives you a sympathetic smile, biting the inside of her lip and puckering her lips in thought of what she would say to you. It was the morning after, the dreaded morning after and not like that, you didn’t have any hot, steamy sex. Nothing to take the edge off, this was the morning after you looked at those two little lines.

Positive.

You were positive about a lot of things in your life right now. You were positive that you had absolutely no fucking clue where to go from here. You were positive that time was ever-dwindling and if you didn’t start making decisions soon you’d have even less of a clue what to do. The clues that you did have were just random pieces of a puzzle, the rest of the pieces fell out of the box and are now scattered around every nook and cranny of your brain, never to be seen again. How would you start to piece things back together? It’s all you’ve thought about since you saw those two little lines. And as you drowned in self-hatred and vomit, you were overwhelmed by a dread that could only bless a person so deep in shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this would happen to me. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what the fuck? Is there anything else I could possibly process right now? Fuck, fuck, fuck- Your thoughts gallivanted, they danced and jumped around and shook your head senseless.

“How are you feeling?” Mikasa asked. Somehow it was only right that the girl who sold you the pregnancy test that put your life on hold should sleepover in your cramped apartment. No one else knew, just you and Mikasa versus the two men who should know that you were fucking pregnant. You’ve known Mikasa for less than 24 hours and yet you trusted her enough for the two of you. The two of you. You and your baby. Yours and Eren’s baby. The thought of him being high somewhere in Europe while you sat on the floor of your bathroom with a part of him inside of you made you sick. Those last words he spoke to you were ones that held such malice, asking you to leave his life, and now you couldn’t be more a part of it.

“I feel like I should be dead, but I’m not, so now I’m just walking around a half-dead person with the biggest cross to bear,” you felt like a burden to the world, to yourself, and you felt so alone. You felt embarrassed. So fucking embarrassed that the father of your child was fucking someone else in a high rise in Paris. At least that’s where you thought he should be right now. A state of shock as deep as the one you were in didn’t allow for you to cry, there were no tears left in you, there was nothing that could be done that could make you hate yourself any less than you did right now. And he was in fucking Paris, fucking another girl. You heard it on the phone last night in your humiliating attempt to call him. His good luck charm, that’s what he called her. That’s what he called you too. He was supposed to take you to Paris, that was your City of Light, but you supposed the yellow lights of your bathroom would suffice for now.

“I hope Paris is treating you well Eren” you laughed, a hand dangling into the toilet seat as you gagged, your throat teasing another wave of bile to emit from your mouth, “I’m doing fucking incredible thank you for asking,” you reached for the pack of cigarettes your kept by your bathtub, only to have the cardboard box ripped out of your sweaty hands.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Mikasa spat, “I get it, your life is over, whatever…but don’t be fucking ridiculous,” she slid the pack into the back pocket of her jeans, scolding you for attempting to smoke while also taking another drag of the cigarette that hung out of her mouth.

“But you’re doing it.”

“Do I look fucking pregnant to you? Fine…” She pulled the cigarette out of her mouth, before putting it out on the tiles beneath her. Mikasa stared at you intently, drinking in every detail of your current state, the way beads of sweat dressed your forehead, your shirt clinging to your clammy back, the nailpolish on your fingernails poorly picked off, she knew she felt some sort of something in that moment as she looked at you. She didn’t know who this Eren guy was, just that he gave you a baby and ran, and is now in Paris doing god knows what. She pitied the guy, he sounded like a prick and completely undeserving of you, if she didn’t know any better she’d assume that he was missing you just as much as you were trying to deny that you missed him. Her eyes stayed trained on you as you clutched the toilet seat once more and began to dry heave into the toilet, all she could do was be there. When you asked her if she could stay the night after she witnessed the worst breakdown she’d seen in all of her 20 something years of living, she found it incredibly hard to say no.

“Are you gonna tell-”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me finish… are you gonna tell Hallmark?”

“Jean?”

“Yes-”

“Why?”

“You should.”

“Why?”

“He’s not your boyfriend?”

Boyfriend. You haven’t heard that word in a bit. You’ve never had a boyfriend that wasn’t Eren. If you really thought about it, you’ve never had an anything that wasn’t Eren. He was your first kiss, your first relationship, your first time. Jean was the second person you’ve had sex with in your life. You two were kind of just… awkwardly floating through things. He would come over, you would have sex, ocassionally you’d cry and he’d listen, then he’d make you breakfast in the morning and leave for work. Then you’d repeat steps 1 to 5 daily for the best results. Though today Jean’s absence didn’t go unnoticed by you, things almost felt… weird without the sound of him clanking gently through the kitchen this morning. You were missing him. Holy shit, you were missing him. You looked at Mikasa who was clearly reading your internal turmoil written all over your face.

“No… he’s not-”

“He’s not your boyfriend… but he makes you breakfast in the morning, lets you cry into his shoulder while he literally fucks you and… he wakes up at the crack of dawn to get you medicine for your upset tummy... that by the way, was actually you being pregnant with your ex’s kid who he knows nothing about… and you don’t think you should tell him?”

“You need to stop interrupting me-”

“No I don’t think I will… I’m living vicariously through you right now so let me,” she crossed her arms while she leaned back against the tub, smirking in the slightest when she realized she'd stumped you with her remark. She watched as your face dropped, realizing she was looking at a woman confused, a woman torn, a woman wanting to give and receive love, but unsure of who she should give it to and unconvinced that she was deserving of it all. And Mikasa realized just how delicate you were, a flower unwatered, a glass sat at the edge of a table, just waiting to fall. What you needed was someone to tell you what you needed, and though her heart wanted to tell you one thing, Mikasa’s mind fled to another. She knew what you needed.

“Tell me about him.”

“Eren?”

“No- fuck him… tell me about Jean.”

Jean paced back and forth across his apartment, racking his brain for all the ways he possibly screwed up with you. Jean knew that he was probably more in love with you than you were with him, that was something apparent to the both of you. Why he submitted himself to a half-assed relationship he didn’t know… he just craved you, ached for you, he was infatuated with every inch of you. Whatever you gave him, he took it, he absorbed it, basked in it, drank it all in. Whenever your storm decided to pass he stood in it, and let it twirl around him. Jean has flipped through and read every single one of your pages. He thought he had you figured out, keyword thought. As he stood in his room, clothes strewn everywhere, overwhelmed with the mess he made in his fit of anxiety, he was positive that he really didn’t know you at all.

But he knew you enough to know that you invited him over every night. You’ve done it every day for the past two weeks. If Jean were bold enough he’d think that you might’ve actually needed him.

Hey Jean :)

Hey!

Coming over?

Yeah

So why didn’t you invite him over last night? So now Jean sat at the end of his bed with his head in his hands, wondering what the fuck could’ve possibly went wrong. He sank his bottle of beer down his throat, running through every sentence, every action, every moment of the past 24 hours. How he spent the night, again. How he fucked you, your tears staining his skin as you hid your face in the crevice of his neck, crying about how sorry you were. How you wanted to give him everything, you really did, but “it's just so hard Jean.” He remembered the way your body racked with sobs in his embrace, begging him to keep going, babbling about how good he was making you feel. He replayed it all.

“J-Jean… fuck baby… please- don’t stop,” he remembered your soft whimpers, the way you felt around him, sucking him in as your legs drew his waist deeper into yours. The way your nails scratched the skin of his back. The way you sniffled in his ear or played with his necklace that dangled in your face, avoiding eye contact with him as he thrusted into you. Or was it the way your eyes squeezed shut, forcing salty tears to kiss your cheeks, as he wrapped a hand around your neck and you begged him to squeeze harder.

“M-more, Jean.”

“W-what? you won’t be able to-”

“Fucking more already…”

And he watched you smile, he watched a grin spread across your face as your eyes rolled back. Your hand laid on top of his and pressed in more… and more… and more… just how you wanted. Jean felt his heart stop, he felt the room spin, and he froze inside of you, his face twisting into an expression of confusion and terror. You looked like you needed help. You looked like you couldn’t breathe. You looked… at peace. It was only when you started to choke, when you started shaking, when your hand fell to your side, that Jean snapped out of his daze.

“Hey… hey!”

He struck your cheek with his palm.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!”

He screamed.

“Stop this shit… hey!”

He hit you again and he began to cry. His body began to shake, he watched your facial features twitch and his voice broke over your limp figure. Jean’s eyes were puffy and red, the weight in his chest growing heavier and heavier. Were you dead? Dying? He rolled up a pillow and placed it under your head, lifting one of your wrists and checking for a pulse. It was there. You were still there.

“Fucking wake up!”

“Wake up.”

“Please.”

…

“I think I love you…”

It could’ve been those last words he whispered to your unconscious body… maybe you’d heard them. And maybe he scared you off. And maybe you never wanted to speak to him again. Maybe you didn’t want love, but god, was Jean prepared to love you. He wanted every single part of you. He wanted to drown in your storm, he was prepared to sink for you, to take all of your baggage and let it drag him down to the ocean floor. Because Jean swore he was in love with you, or falling in love with you. He guessed there was a huge difference between the two, whatever he was feeling was wrecking him from the inside out. He was taking hit, after hit, after hit, for you, because Jean was positive that he couldn’t waste anymore time. Not when he just watched you fucking fall unconscious before him.

Oh.

It could’ve been that you passed out in the middle of sex with him.

It could’ve been that.

“You… what?”

“Mikasa- look… I know how this sounds-”

“It sounds fucking insane is what it sounds like.”

“Mikasa… I just wanted him to choke me-”

“Okay, well you traumatized him is what you did babe.”

“Fuck… I ruined it… I always fucking ruin it!” You screamed, slamming the toilet shut and lifting yourself from the floor. You did, that was one of things you could always count on yourself to do, ruin shit! The other was getting pregnant. The cold kitchen tiles hit your feet as you reach into your fridge for a bottle of water, massaging your temples with your ring finger and thumb, and walking backwards until your back hits the counter. The last thing you saw before everything went black was him. You didn’t want it to be him. You wanted it to be anyone but him. His face, his eyes, his smile. You felt his hand caress your cheek, and his hair tickle your nose as he knelt over you. You smiled just before you fell unconscious because you saw him. And as everything went fuzzy he whispered to you, “Do you hear that baby? It’s our song…” like he always did.

And you fell.

Why the fuck did you have to see him?

“Hey, your phone's ringing…” Mikasa stood rigid in the entryway of your tiny kitchen, her arms crossed with one hand waving your phone in front of your face. The screen illuminated to display a name that's become familiar to you, one that brought you warmth, one that didn’t make you afraid. Mikasa noticed the way your tight expression relaxed when you read his name, she rolled her eyes.

“It’s Hallmark.”

“Yeah…”

“So… answer it.”

“Yeah…”

The phone shook in your hand, your thumb hovering over the screen, hesitant to answer but you accepted the call. You remained silent and out of breath as you held the device to your ear, the only thing Jean could make out was your sniffling and your deep breaths. He felt a pang in his chest, knowing how much you must’ve been struggling to recover from the last time he saw you. He wanted to hold you and start from the beginning. He wanted to forget everything that’s happened and be strangers, who build from the bottom up. He wanted to feel normal with you.

“You okay?”

“M’hm… I’m fine Jean.”

“Hey… can we start over? Or- go out tonight or something? Or-”

You pulled the phone from your ear and you sucked in a sharp breath, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. You just felt like crying, you felt guilty, you felt unworthy, you felt like a shit human being for still wanting to give Jean a chance. While holding the phone on your shoulder, hearing Jean’s little calls for you muffle in the fabric of your clothing, you broke down. You still wanted him to yourself, he felt like something good, and you wanted to not be a fuck-up for once and let yourself have something good. And you felt so goddamn selfish for it, you were trying so hard with him. You clasped a hand over your mouth to silence your sobs, and wiped at your eyes only to smear your tears across your hot cheeks. Everything felt numb, and the big, dark, monster that loomed over you was an old friend. The one that followed you with Eren, it was back and it was telling you that you didn’t deserve Jean either. All of the what ifs, what thens, and but hows flooded your mind. You couldn’t think straight, all you wanted to do was say yes but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“Hello?”

“You still there?”

“Did I lose you?”

Mikasa watched you crumble with your phone clutched to your chest, coming to your rescue as she took your chin in her hand and shook your face back and forth, lightly tapping your cheek to bring you back to Earth, the sensation of her cold rings managing to wake you up a little.

“Talk to me… what does he want?”

“A-a date… h-he wants to-to-” She felt herself losing you again so she moved in closer, pinching your arm and wiping a tear from the apple of your cheek. She nudged your face to meet hers, searching for eye contact and holding it as she grilled you, knowing what you needed was someone to just help you through this.

“To what?”

“To start over.”

“That’s… good, no?”

“I wanna say yes but I-”

She was losing you.

“You what?”

“I don’t deserve him,” she wanted to agree with you, she wanted to shake you by the shoulders and say: Yes! You absolutely don’t deserve him! You don’t deserve either of these men! But she saw the way you exhaled, your chest lowering the minute you read Jean’s name on the phone screen, the way your face lit up when you spoke about him making breakfast for you every morning, the way it felt like he actually cared. And she couldn’t sabotage that, not for anything. Not with the way you were hurting, and surely not with the way you haven’t known peace since she met you.

“Shut up… don’t say that,” she took your face in her hands and made you look at her again as she drilled her next words into your skull, “You deserve someone good… so just say yes.”

“Why are you doing this?” Mikasa takes the phone from your hand and puts it up to your ear, mouthing the word ‘yes’ to you as you slowly nodded in agreement, the blue lights of the kitchen highlighting the grim looks on both of your faces.

“Yes… I’d love to, Jean… really.”

“You look nice… a lot better um- since last time.”

“Hm… why? I didn’t look pretty the last time you saw me Jean?”

“No! No I um, I didn’t mean it like that it’s just-”

“I know what you meant.”

You forced a laugh out, something to ease the tension, something to avoid the obvious elephant in the room, or should you say the diner. The diner you two sat in couldn’t even contain the warm-blooded mammal that stood in between the two of you. Jean looked his best, or at least he tried to. His hair was combed to the side, his face had been washed but his eyes were still red and puffy. He’d been crying relentlessly, and though he thought he did his best to conceal that fact, it was the first thing you noticed when you sat across from him at the table. You, on the other hand, couldn't have put less of an effort into your appearance, and though Jean noticed, he told you you looked incredible, because that's just what Jean does. But the bags under your eyes, the coffee stain just under your breast, and the lounge pants from your puking fit earlier, told him enough. That perhaps he really was pursuing a one-sided relationship, or maybe you just need someone, he wanted to be that someone.

“Here’s your coke, and one strawberry shake,” the waitress sets down your shake in front of you before tossing two straws on the table. Jean looked at you under the royal blue fluorescent lighting, while you looked at the street lights outside the window.

“You sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m fine Jean, really,” you spoke under your breath, voice raspy as you tapped your straw against the table, hissing when you realized you cracked a hole into the plastic. You stared at the table while Jean stared at you, his gaze unwavering, begging for you to make some sense of the situation. He watched as you tightly sucked the malt up the thin straw, your hands picking at the polish on your fingernails.

“Jean just say it, whatever it is… let’s just get this over with.”

“Get this over with,” he muttered, laughing in disbelief at your choice of words. He scoffs as he squeezes the lemon wedge into his coke, running his fingers through his hair before he finally looks at you again, you were still looking at the table. He was sure that he was losing you, and he didn’t know why, because he didn’t know what he did wrong. His patience was wearing thin, but he didn’t want it to snap, not yet, he wanted to keep trying. And so he leaned in across the table, pulling your hands apart with his, being gentle as he began to wake up your physical being, knowing mentally you weren’t all there. You weren’t to be tampered with, you weren’t to be set ablaze, you needed to be coddled, and walked through the conversation slowly. He rubbed his thumbs over each of your knuckles, squeezing your palms lightly, before bringing a hand up to his lips and letting it linger there. You couldn’t understand why, why he was still there, why he had your hands in his, while you couldn’t even look at him without crying.

“Can you at least look at me? That’s all I ask,” he was so soft, he poured everything out to you with every word he spoke. He filled you up, made you feel warm, and you didn’t know what you could offer Jean in return. You still haven’t told him why you stopped calling, shit, you had to tell him you were pregnant. Your eyes wandered up his shirt and lingered on his lips before settling on his docile gaze that hasn’t left you since you sat down. That was when the first tear fell, you couldn’t stop fucking crying. You looked back down at your hands in his, he was holding you, even when you were the biggest piece of shit that you knew. Jean held you when he knew there was no way you loved him back half as much. Why did he have to be so good? It made you sick.

“Hey, what is it-”

“Jean…” the way you said his name broke him, as if it foreshadowed an unforgiving future, he inhaled sharply as he tried to swallow his sadness. You were shattered, shards of you piercing his skin and making him bleed out. All Jean could do was wonder why shattered glass sparkled the way it did, why in every fragment he could see his reflection, distorted and lost in the pieces of you.

“No, no… I want to try… so fucking bad with you. So please, let me try,” it was only you two, in the comfort of the booth, the plastic cushions rustling underneath you. It was just you two as the diner cleared out the last patrons of the night, the clock striking 1 am, the two of you too delirious and sad to have the conversation you really needed to have. Your drinks were still full, your hearts even emptier than when you walked in, and the sight the waitress walked up to as she began to tell you that they were closing was nothing short of depressing. She saw two lovers, well, two people desperately trying to create something that just couldn’t be there, “So… just shut up and let me try, okay?”

“I care about you Jean.”

“I know.”

“Jean it’s just-”

“I know-”

“No, you don’t… something happened-”

“Can I just take you home?” He asked, tired and confused, gaining none of the clarity he had hoped to from the conversation.

The walk back to your apartment felt safe. If there was one word that captured Jean’s essence it was “safe.” In the dark, under the stars, the brisk night air nipping your skin, you were safe. You could tell Jean how you felt, and you were safe. As long as you were with him, your emotions were protected, and you didn’t feel stupid. Your hand was wrapped in his and it didn’t feel weird, though your feelings for Jean weren’t mutual at the moment, you liked it. You liked feeling like you belonged to him, to someone. But somewhere that monster lingered, it’s hands gripping your shoulders, it’s breath down your neck, and you felt you weren’t good enough. He’s too good for you, it said, and it was right. This isn’t real, it said, and again it was right.

You were a person whose thoughts were written across their face, you thought with your eyes, nose, mouth, everything. Jean noticed that about you, the way your eyebrows pursed up when you were deep in thought. The way you bit your lips to ease your anxiety, or your nose flared when you took a deep breath. He noticed it all. Jean could tell that you were thinking about him, and for a second he felt warm, until he realized that there was much more that you were hiding, your unintentional transparency was admirable. Your train of thought was interrupted when Jean stopped walking and you looked up to see your apartment building towering above you. Just start over, you can do it, your brain murmurs, every piece of you working together to form your next words to Jean very, very carefully. Make them good, you thought, make him see you can try too, that you can be just as good as him. So naturally you panicked, and let your heart speak for you, your brain had clocked out a long time ago.

“Hey… I had a great time tonight,” Jean lied, but he still leaned down to kiss you, his eyes closing as he sighed into your lips, so fragile against his. He lied, and you knew he did it to make you feel better, but for some reason you thought that now would be a perfect time to finally tell the truth.

“Jean, I’m pregnant…”

Why did you have to say it now?

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I told you that. It’s none of your business, nothing to do with you at all actually! I’ll just- I’ll just, um… shit, I’m so sorry.”

The way Jean’s eyes widened in that moment, his mouth dropped, and his cheeks burned red, you watched him finally connect all of the dots right in front of you. The constant puking, the morning sickness, the mood swings, the tears, the anger, the everything. It all made sense to him, and he didn’t have a clue how to respond. He’d finally been hit by the eye of your storm, he knew it’d be bad, he didn’t know what to expect but this was far off than anything he imagined. Your body trembled as you tucked your hands under your armpits and your eyes drilled into his forehead as he stared at the ground, begging for a response.

“Jean fucking say something, please-”

“No it’s- it’s fine I- I just hope you’re okay. I just need to go… I’m sorry.”

You watched as Jean turned his back to you, you watched as his figure grew smaller and smaller as he walked down the street, and you felt your chest grow tight, a familiar feeling coming back to you. Why did this hurt so bad? Watching Jean walk away from you fucking hurt like hell, and you couldn’t stand it. The feeling of being truly alone, you understood it, this was it. Holy shit you were alone. You fell to your knees, the feeling you felt when Eren walked away from you coming back in its fullest force.

“Please don’t go…” you whispered to a dark street, your head in your hands and your tears staining the ends of your sweater. You were sure you were in hell, you kept pushing everything away. Sniffling in your snot and pawing the tears away from your eyes, you pulled out your phone to call someone who you hadn’t completely screwed over yet.

“Mikasa… I need you. I hurt him again. I think. I don’t really know. He didn’t really say much. Please I hurt everyone and I don’t wanna hurt you too-”

Her slick, black nails pulled the phone from her ear, sighing as your desperate voicemail came to end. Tapping her signal light with her pinky, she turned up her music and proceeded to turn back around after hearing the sound of your voice.

“What the hell did you do now? You fucking cry baby…”

© 2021 sxkunas - do not repost my work to any other platforms

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[reachfolk]

8. your oc encounters a group of shipwrecked pirates 😈

💛 from ya bestie @korvanjund

✿ tags: my attempt at humor, mildly suggestive because alex is a flirt

❥ word count: 1.4k

✿ summary: while taking a walk along the solitude coastline, alexandria gets captured by a group of brigands looking to keep her for a ransom. she, as usual, sees an opening to have herself some fun.

❥ author’s note: this is literally so dumb but it was hella fun to write. lex is the worst (affectionate). also i proofread this at 5 am so it barely counts. if u see any weird typos or awkward phrasing, no u didn't <3

✿ taglist: @lookathooves

“So how long have you been a kidnapper?”

“Wh—?” Velis turned to his captive, a noblewoman with reddish brown hair and an annoyingly calm disposition who goes by the name Alexandria. “How did you get the gag off?”

“Sleight of hand?”

“Your hands are bound.”

“Sleight of tongue, then,” she said with an exaggerated wink. “Now will you tell me how long you’ve been a kidnapper, or are you one of those dark and stoic sorts?”

“If you must know,” he spat, making extra sure that his irritation showed in hopes of intimidating the noblewoman, “we’re not kidnappers. We’re pirates. Bad storm hit just as we got close to the Solitude coast, now we need a new ship. That’s where your pretty little head and the ransom it can bring us come in.”

Without a care in the world, the woman lit up with excitement. “Pirates! Oh, how fun! Even if you aren’t very good ones. It’s all well, though; you’ve got that roguish, devilishly handsome look that’s just perfect for it.”

The dunmer’s ears stiffened, standing high at those words. “Will you just be kidnapped like a normal person?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” The woman leaned back, propping her back against the tree trunk behind her. “Your pirate friends are off doing whatever it is pirates do when they aren’t... pirating. We might as well enjoy ourselves, seeing as it’s just us.”

His grip on the weapon strapped to his hip tightened. “You’re not getting me to untie you.” No matter how tempting the reason.

With a suggestive, flirtatious tone, she asked, “Who said anything about untying me?”

It was... a compelling argument. But he was suspicious nonetheless, and frankly, nothing could make him even think of taking off his breeches in the freezing weather of the Haafingar coast. “You’re not the most dignified of noblewomen, you know.”

“No, I suppose not,” she mused. “But admit it, you couldn’t ask for a better hostage.”

“I could ask for a quieter one.”

She gasped in offense, and Velis couldn’t tell if it was a joke or otherwise. “I thought we were bonding!”

“Bonding?” he asked. “You don’t even know my name.”

“Velis, right?”

He blinked. “Y... yes. Good guess.”

“I overheard you talking with that big nord with the funny hat.”

“It is a funny hat, isn’t it?” He said the words in a whisper, as though the captain could overhear them. “Cap’ thinks it makes him look serious and intimidating, but it makes him look like...”

“A giant mushroom!”

“Exactly!”

The pair fell into a fit of giggles at the all too accurate simile.

“Aha! I knew I could break the tough and stoic exterior!” Alexandria said smugly between giggles.

Velis forced the corners of his mouth down and cleared his throat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Admit it,” she sang. “I’m your favorite hostage you’ve ever taken. Say it.”

“You’re the only hostage I’ve ever taken.”

The words seemed to intrigue her as she pulled herself to lean forward. “Oh? I’d have assumed a pirate would take hostages regularly.”

He shrugged. “Haven’t been doing it for long. Just been with this crew for a few weeks now.” He realized all too late that he was giving her exactly what she wanted and suddenly felt a strong urge to hit himself over the head with his own mace.

“Oh, that so?” The tone in her voice was intrigued, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d have assumed she genuinely cared. “Do you like it? Minus the wreck, I mean.”

“You always ask this many questions?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said, shamelessly. “You always avoid them?”

“Only the annoying ones.”

“Well, then, this is going to be a very difficult chat for both of us. Someone ought to compromise.”

She shot him a look that told him loud and clear that she had no intention of backing down, and he realized it would only be easier if he gave in. With a heavy sigh, he answered, “No, I don’t like it.”

Seeming satisfied with the turn of events, she pressed on, “Why stay, then?”

Of course she’d ask that. “Do you think people turn to crime because they want to?”

“A lot do,” she said, as if she knew anything about what she spoke of. “But I take it you’re here out of desperation?”

The questions were beginning to get far, far beyond his comfort level. “I’m not answering that.”

“Oh, let me guess!”

“No—”

“You have a sister back home that’s terribly sick and can’t support herself, so you need to support her in every way you can. But finding work is hard, let alone for decent pay, so you turned to petty crime. But it kept escalating, and before you knew it, you were involved in a local smuggling ring. But then, the twist! You—”

“Oh, gods, do you ever shut up?”

She shook her head, a mischievous glint in her eye as she shot him a smile. If he didn’t need her alive, he’d have busted her head with a mace a long while ago.

“It was nothing that noble, is that what you want to hear?” He went on, his frustrations blinding him to what he was doing. “I was at a gambling ring, lost more money than I could afford to, and now I have some people holding it over my head until I pay them back.”

There was a long pause as she thought over the words, then she asked, “Do you fight good?”

“... What?”

He’d asked out of confusion, but she only repeated the question slightly louder. “Do you fight good?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” he answered. “Hence why turning to piracy and banditry made the most sense.”

“You know, my family’s looking for bodyguards,” she said. “One of them died in a Forsworn attack on our carriage, so there’s an open spot. Pays handsomely, and something tells me you’d much rather make the money honestly than have to run around with brigands.”

“What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything. I’m saying you should sign on as our bodyguard and pay off your debt honestly.”

It was almost funny how easy she thought it was. “I don’t think you realize how much goes into that decision. They’ll want to know if I’m trustworthy, and I'm not giving them any good reasons.”

“And you’ll be seen as plenty trustworthy if you bring me back from the oh-so-awful brigands that tried to kidnap me.” She made a show of swooning and sighing. “My hero.”

Velis only blinked as the words sank in. She... had a point. There were only two others posted at the camp at the moment, both of whom were far by the outskirts, so sneaking her away would be a cinch.

“You’d be willing to trick your own family?”

She shrugged. “It’ll be funny.”

It didn’t sound like a very good reason to do anything, but Velis glanced behind him and saw that the rest of the band of pirates had yet to arrive. It was an easy opening...

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he said to himself as he approached, his dagger readied in his hand to cut her bindings off. “You make one move to turn against me, and I slice your throat, got it?”

“Oh, I’m shaking in my boots,” she teased.

He would have responded with a snappy remark or a sharp glare, but he was too preoccupied with his own thoughts racing in his head. There was still a chance she’d betray him and run off on her own, but if this worked out...

His past mistakes have haunted him for years now, one after the other building into a massive tower he couldn’t begin to scale. If this woman, despite all the ways he’s wronged he, would be willing to give him a second chance, he wasn’t about to reject it.

As the bindings came loose, she rolled her sore wrists, then turned to him with the same bright smile she’d been wearing since the beginning. “Lead the way, my knight in—” she eyed him up and down—”studded armor.”

He eyed her curiously, trying to make sense of her, but all he could turn up in the end was, “You’re a strange one.” As he held his hand out to her, she took it in her own gloved one with surprising firmness.

“Now,” he said, “Let’s get you out of here.”

[hauntsect]

[tri-point-bruiser]

🎐  : our  muses  slow  dance  together .

Nightwatcher please. I'm thinking of something dressy and maybe a date in the future or even Lori got stood up and he makes her feel better. Bonus squeals if he hums with a song. Thank you so much!

🎐  : our  muses  slow  dance  together .

[❥   𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 Submissions Closed]

Raph had never been this nervous before in his life. This was his first official real honest to god date with Lori and he was sort of panicking. It had taken months to plan, because they couldn’t exactly do normal couple things, and Raph wanted to actually look nice for her. So he had Mike make him a custom suit. This date was special, and he needed to look good for it, or at least as good as he was capable of looking. 

He and Lori had danced around their feelings for a while, and their routine had started to change as they both began pushing boundaries to test if there was interest. Meeting his family had been a big one and had made everything a lot more real. It was after that meeting that things started to move faster for them and Raph was the first to give in. Kissing Lori one night before leaving, and it wasn’t a little kiss either. It came damn close to leading to her bedroom, but the brakes had been hit by the sun starting to come up.

After that, they talked and admitted to the feelings they both shared. Which led to date nights, mostly just in her apartment watching movies and having a special meal. Raph loved it, but felt they needed something more, something official. So he hatched this idea and had his brothers all help him see it through. 

Mike had helped by making the suit and helping with decorating the end location and the cooking. Leo had spent weeks scouting and observing potential spots they could use that wouldn’t be disturbed. Don was doing most of the cooking and handling any of the tech that was needed. There was some clear envy from the brothers, but there was also hope. If Raph could have this, then maybe so could they.

When the night finally arrived, it was Leo’s job to go pick up Lori and bring her to the location. Raphael wanted everything, including his new fancy suit to be a surprise. He had instructed her on the kind of clothing to wear and gave her no other hints. 

Lori was nervous as she was led through an abandoned building. It looked to be in bad shape, but not so bad that she feared it crumbling. When they made it to what was the top floor she gasped. It had been transformed into something out of a fairy tale. There were twinkling lights everywhere. Soft flowy fabrics covering the walls and separating the space. Part of the roof was missing giving them a view of the night sky. There was a soft glow to everything and dozens of candles, though the way they flickered made it clear they were the fake kind, which she weirdly preferred once she saw them changing colors. 

Soft music was playing just loud enough to be heard from the entrance, but getting louder as she stepped in. Out from behind one of the hanging fabric walls, Raphael stepped forward and held out his hand to her. Lori gasped at the sight of him. He was in an impressive suit, it made him look so handsome, so very sexy and she couldn’t help but almost run into his arms hugging him.

Raphael chuckled and hugged her, spinning her around easily and stepping back at arms length to look at her. He whistled. “Don’t you clean up nice.” He winked as he looked over her elegant dress. He hoped she hadn’t spent too much, but damn if she didn’t look like a precious jewel just standing there. 

Slowly he pulled her close and began swaying to the music. It was pleasant, unobtrusive, and a distraction while his brothers finished setting up their dinner. He spun her around the space reserved for the dance floor, humming quietly along to the music as he looked into her eyes.”Yer gorgeous, beautiful, stunnin.” 

Lori was giddy, practically beside herself and blushing hard. She wasn’t a perfect dancer, but neither was he, and somehow it worked. She held him as they swayed to the song, her heart fluttering as he began to humm, and quietly sing along. She loved his voice and she realized, that perhaps, she simply just loved him.

“This, everything, is perfect, it is more than I ever could have asked for Raphael. You didn’t have to, but, I am glad you did, I feel like this will be my favorite memory.” Lori leaned in and kissed him on his face being cute about it.

“Anythin fer you doll face, anythin. I needed this, ta show ya, what ya mean ta me.” He looked at her with some vulnerability in his eyes. “This is gonna be my favorite memory too.” He smiled and pulled her into a kiss.

[enchairr]

[ snarl ]   your muse snarling / growling at mine.

❥ 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒. || not accepting. || @stokcd

     QUITE THE reaction he was expecting, and to be honest this one time he can’t blame Tim for it. They parted ways in the worst way possible - anger and regret and heartbreak all swirling in the same vortex, dragging them further down and away from each other - and then his death sealed the end of their story without leaving any room for an eventual reconciliation. Or so it seemed. Sy - although names feel even more constricting than before; it was bound to happen when his own vessel lost any sort of stability, adapting to the drastic changes of the world and mankind - Sy, or the Entity that once wore that name like his favorite dress knows that the one standing before you is and isn’t Tim. All wrong and all right. Different to tell the old and the new from one another, and nonetheless he’s glad this encounter happened. It fills him with relief, and then that same emotion pours out of his cracked body, warping and sculpting the melodies cascading out of him.

     The snarl, well; that can be justified easily. Any semblance of human disguise has mostly worn off him, leaving but a vaguely humanoid shape that pulsates and trembles in the light following the rhythm of the landscape he’s in. Sharp angles, body parts coming and going, dissolving and being rebuilt out of thin air and sounds - the new music of a tortured world. If he focuses, though, his face can resurface, although it won’t be any more than a vague outline if compared to what it used to look like. Even the hands he raises aren’t hands. They’re songs talking about hands and the perfection of each finger and nail and blemished skin, the projection of an image into another’s mind. He is here and everywhere else - in the battlefields of the Piper, in the endless carousel of the Stranger, in the endless nightmares of the Dark. Not a god but almost. The closest to his true self he can afford to be here.

     He attempts a smile, which reverberates through the air with the jingle of bells that aren’t of this universe. “H̴i̶,̵ ̸T̵i̸m̵,̷" he says, each word an auditory masterpiece. He doesn’t think he can cry anymore, just like he can’t bleed anymore, at least not physically. But the sounds coming from him - ah; they express his emotions just as well. “I̴ ̶m̶i̵s̵s̵e̶d̸ ̶y̶o̴u̶.̵”

[ofthepuzzle]

@fashixncgoist​ said: 👗  :    my  muse  sees  yours  all  dressed  up . ❥   𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍     [   𝐀   𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋   𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄   ]  .

       The Pharaoh stands in front of a mirror wearing the designer cutting lines of a black lurex suit with a matching waist coat and a purple lurex tie, all perfectly fitting his lean, athletic form. The smokey, intense cedar wood cologne intermingles with the lingering leather scent. The skull appliques on the tie and the clip to the jacket’s upper pocket are shiny gold with small amethyst gems engraved on them. He's also wearing glossy onyx Oxfords to go with the look.

      On his index digit he carries a gold ring with a skull that would definitely be seen from afar considering its size and bling.

      He’s all ready for his date with Mai. They’ve decided to separate when they would be getting ready so it would be a surprise when they see each other all fancied up.

      Atem leaves the room to check on Mai afterward, giving a knock on her door. And after he is allowed access, he enters. He immediately is awestruck from the sight. She could make any dress look good as she has the perfect feminine physique. And her long blonde swirls flow elegantly, complimenting the classy style.

      “… I hope I am not interrupting. You look stunning, my love.”

[hauntsect]

I just killed a man, she's my alibi. Rosa, qué linda eres.