#and ends it valued only as so far as her Aunt finds her Helpful

[fallenangelontheceiling]

I’m breaking my No Tumblr For Lent rule because I really have to share -

I’m 65 pages into Mansfield Park and I can’t stand Edmund. He’s objectively a Good Person (which I can already tell is going to be a rarity in this narrative), but god is he insufferable.

The Crawfords are flakes, but at least they’re entertaining flakes so far.

Austen is always scathingly snarky but this is the first time I think she comes off a bit self-righteous??

[coucouatoi]

don't want to be alone | h.s.

Pairings: Harry Styles x Reader

Summary: Divorcing the biggest superstar on the planet is the hardest thing you've ever done. Almost as hard as marrying him was.

Warnings: Angst, couples therapy, a little bit of fluff, hopeful ending

A/N: I don't know why I'm feeling so full of angst... but, please enjoy!

Flashback are in italic and present day is normal text

Boxes are littered around the house. Some full and taped shut others still being stuffed with your items. It's a slow and torturous process, having to choose what to take, what to throw out and what things are a conversation waiting to happen "That's a wedding gift from my aunt" or "When have you ever used that?" or even better "I know it was a gift, but I paid for it so i'll keep it". It's like he knows exactly which buttons to press to get the fights started. Granted you might be doing the same thing... But it doesn't make him entitled to all the belongings you've ever shared.

You've managed to find all the picture albums, the ones you decided to make for sentimental value. The ones you gifted him in tender moments. The ones filled with so much love, so much hope and promises for a future together. The ones you're now highly considering throwing into a paper shredder and tossing into the nearest incinerator. The ones you won't be able to get rid of. The anniversary album you gave him on your one year, the wedding album, the honeymoon album, the many travel albums and, of course, your daughter's first album.

Little Anya, barely 9 months old just starting to babble her first words. Chubby legs working so hard to keep her standing and exploring. She can barely take 3 steps one after the other but she's a fighter. Your little girl that is now a cause for argument, no, fights. Custody battles. The true war between yourself and your husband, Harry Styles. Neither of you want to lose or call for a tie, it's not how either of you operate in conflict. That, most likely, is the reason for the downfall of your relationship.

Frustrated you put the albums back where you found them and you head to the kitchen.

Most kitchen items have been packed up, Harry had never really invested in worthwhile cutlery or electronics of any sort. You take some orange juice from the fridge and pour a glass for yourself. The fridge itself is barren, with only the essentials left... neither of you has gone to the groceries in weeks. Today is not going to be a good day.

From the rediscovery of your love-filled albums to the boxes you've spent most of the day doing, you still have one horrible thing to do.

Couples therapy, your first-ever session. You thought, well still think, that this is too far gone to save in therapy. There won't be anything new shared that you haven't already screamed in each other's faces and self-help talks aren't exactly going to do the trick. Anne, Harry's mother, insisted that your marriage doesn't only include two people anymore. Anya makes it worth trying, she is worthy of a stable home as she grows up. No matter how unstable having a superstar parent may be, divorced parents might just add to that an unruly amount. So, you've both agreed to try. Try your very best to reassemble your love no matter how shattered it has become. Love. Love hasn't manifested itself once since about your seventh month of pregnancy. Love has vanished from your husband's once warm and inviting eyes, it no longer lingers on his fingertips and doesn't even creep into the more tender moments you must share with your baby. Love feels like a complete joke to you now.

-

The waiting room is empty of other clients which is a blessing in disguise. This is the absolute last place you'd want to run into Harries. Even if the media has already been dragging you in the mud for "breaking their dear superstar's heart" and has been making all sorts of claims about you and your marriage. In the very beginning, Harry had spoken up about these articles and had gotten his team to shut some people up but he's been losing care for... well, you.

"Harry and Y/N?" you look up meeting the eyes of who you can only assume is your therapist. Without sparring your husband a glance you get up and follow her into her office. It's cosy and smells like vanilla. There's a yellow glow to the room, it bounces off her multiple frames and decorations. Very nonthreatening, immediately putting you a little more at ease. She gestures for you to take a seat on her velvet green couch and you sit down squeezing yourself onto the left armrest. Harry does the same to the right.

"Good afternoon to you both, I am Trinity Finch. Can I get either of you something to drink before I sit down?" She smiles politely as her eyes shift between both of you. You only shake your head as an answer not trusting your stomach at the moment.

"Water if it's not too much trouble, please" Harry's voice is strained, he had been at the studio all morning probably preparing a new album you aren't aware of.

Trinity nods and quickly grabs a water bottle from a small fridge she's got right behind her desk. Harry mumbles a thank you as she hands it to him. You don't realise that his hands are shaking as you're back to looking around the room. He takes a few big gulps before your therapist gets to sit in her chair.

"Today I would just like to start with a history lesson on your relationship. How it started, all important moments, how parenthood has changed your shared life and just how you two are as a couple" She starts getting things ready around her, notebook, pens, highlighters, some sticky notes and you swear that you spotted some bright childish stickers. Her long manicured nails tap against the glass of her desk a few times as the silence stretches. Neither of you taking the first step in this session. When she looks up again she doesn't look annoyed or surprised by the lack of an answer.

"Harry, how did you meet your wife?" Trinity asks him gently.

Harry seems caught by surprise to have been asked a question directly. He looks at you briefly before turning his eyes back to her.

"Um, we meet on the plane. For some reason, my private plane for that day was not available and they booked me on a regular flight. Premium ended up being full and I got an economy seat. I had the aisle and she had the middle we ended up bonding over our shared movie choice. Then I asked her out and um here we are?" He ends with a question. As if unsure if "here" is a good thing, it's definitely not but meeting has, unfortunately, brought you both here.

"And when was this?" she asks.

"April 2018" he answers quickly. She nods presumably writing it down.

"How was your relationship before marriage Y/N?" she looks at you now with kind eyes. They are big and dark. Staring right into your soul. It makes you slightly uncomfortable but at the same time you don't want her to look away she's your lifeline right now.

"It was very easy. I work remotely as a translator and an editor, so I've always been able to tag along on his travels and tours. He, um, he always insisted that he rather have me with him even if we couldn't see each other every single day. Just knowing I was near helped him..." you sigh. You don't want to shed tears this early into your session. You don't want Harry to see you cry any more than he already has over your lost relationship.

"I really loved following him around the globe" you add, looking down at your lap willing your wet eyes to dry.

"Any fighting? How did you deal with that?" Trinity is still talking to you maybe even sensing that you're about to cry. Is that what she wants from this?

"Well, yeah. I mean all couples fight, right? We fought over the same things all the time really. I wanted more affection I guess pressuring him to take some time away from the spotlight or he wanted me all to himself whenever it worked with him without thinking of my work. Our jobs were the main reason for fighting between us" Besides you, Harry scoffs before taking another sip of water. Your head turns to him

so quickly that a sharp pain forms in the back of your neck. Your posture immediately tightens, muscles locking and your breath gets heavier.

"What? You don't agree?" you question him in a much harsher tone than you were previously using. He meets your gaze and shrugs.

"I do but that's not all we fought over" he shrugs again not looking away. Is he trying to pick a fight right now? Here of all places?

"Then what? What am I missing?" you prepare yourself for the worst. Ready to feel like absolute shit at anything he might say.

"Your constant jealousy was a contender for the most appearances in our fights" his entire expression is accusatory but he does this thing with his posture. Gets all soft and somewhat blazé making you feel inferior and so incredibly small.

You want to storm out. Call Anne to apologise that it couldn't work out and immediately sign the divorce papers that are permanently placed right on your dining table.

Not wanting to fuel this energy taking over him right now you shrug as well before facing Trinity again. She's watching both of you like a hawk, processing the way you react to conflict with each other. Making mental notes as well as some physical ones all while hostility happens between her clients.

"We'll move on from this for now. Harry, how was the wedding? How did married life change your bond?" this seemingly calms his overgrown ego. His face is neutral again but there's a softness to it now, recalling the happy days.

"We had an Italy wedding. We, I love Italy. I flew everyone out, our families and friends, and then we stayed there for a month more for our honeymoon. The wedding itself was... amazing. We kept it small. Intimate. With my life it's always been hard to have that so, it was important to us" he sounds blissful towards the last part. Probably back there now in his mind. Ah, the good old days as they say.

"I don't think married life changed us much. We were living together before that and we'd been planning it since we got together practically" he stops talking again to take another sip of water. You look at the lady in front of you again and as she begins to open her mouth to probably question him more Harry starts talking again.

"I guess tension started about a year in. The media wasn't kind to her. They made up cheating rumours on both sides and manipulated things to make them seem like something else. Someone even showed up at our old house while I was out" he took a deep breath, cracking some of his knuckles at the same time, "We were always on edge around each other. Throwing these rumours at one another just to I don't know, get a reaction? Plus, we were stuck at home because of Covid and my tour was postponed. It was a real shit show" he laughs bitterly and you nod along to what he was saying. That was just a terrible time. For everyone.

"Then I got to go on tour, Y/N didn't follow along for all of it but she was there most of the beginning. It wasn't the same as before. There was this distance that just never got better. And then she got pregnant" he almost sounds exhausted. Maybe he is, you're not sure how much he's slept lately.

-

Shit. Fuck. This can't be happening now. Shit! The word "Pregnant" seems to be mocking you as you look down at it. Mocking the fact that you and Harry have not seriously spoken in two days and that you're flying back home tomorrow. Mockingly reminding you that this can only make things worse right now.

"Y/N, come on the car is waiting downstairs" your husband's voice is weak through the thick hotel bathroom door. He's performing in Toronto tonight. The second day, the last day before he flies to New York and you go back to London.

You walk out of the bathroom, straight past Harry, not wanting him to read your face and figure out that something is terribly wrong. You slip into your shoes for the night and take a deep breath, no scratch that, a huge breath. Willing your facial expression to cooperate before you turn to him and smile.

"Let's go superstar!" he smiles back and walks over to you. Grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his mouth so he can plant a kiss on the back of it.

"We just might have to cancel tonight if you look this good" his free hand wraps around you tightly glueing you to his body. You know he doesn't mean it but you pretend to consider it nonetheless.

"Mh what about all your adoring fans? Won't they be so utterly crushed?" you tease against his lips. He smiles wickedly before slowly nodding.

"I do have quite the engagement this evening... how about I make it up to you after?" he presses soft kisses to the sides of your face. Framing it.

"That's a pretty good offer, I just might have to tak-"

"HARRY STYLES GET YOUR ASS OUT OF YOUR HOTEL ROOM!!" Jeff's voice is full of annoyance as it cuts you off. Rude.

You laugh before getting pulled out of the room by your husband. The small plastic stick forgotten on the washroom counter for now.

You get a harsh reminder tho when you're back at the hotel after yet another amazing concert. You're laying on the bed completely stretched out and now only dressed in your underwear. Harry's currently using the washroom to try and get some of the remaining glitter off his face when he finds the secret you've kept all evening.

"Y/N, what's this?" his voice is so shaky that you barely even understood what he asked you. However, when you look up your brain catches up. He's in his boxers, left hand in his hair and right hand holding the test like it's made of glass as he looks at it as if it's going to explode. Fuck.

"No chance that you suddenly lost the ability to read?" you try and lighten the suddenly very heavy mood in the room. It fails.

"You're pregnant. How, I mean no I know how. Fuck, you're pregnant" he looks up at you panicked.

"We don't have to keep it" is the first thing out of your mouth. Probably as a panic response to his reaction. Not wanting this to turn into another fight.

"What?! Why wouldn't we, you don't want, I um" he takes a second. He's just breathing heavily while looking at you desperately. "You don't want to keep it?" he breathes out.

"You do?" is all you answer. You stand slowly, finding the clothes you just took off to put them back on. Whatever mood you were in is gone you're now filled with anxiety and a deep fear.

"You leave tomorrow... We won't see each other for what 3 months? In Mexico?" he hasn't moved an inch. Feet seemingly glued to the floor and limbs were frozen.

-

Pregnancy. One of the worst and best times of your life. Your gorgeous baby girl came out of all the pain you suffered. She gave a new meaning to the way you live, made you forget about all the physical pain you endured and...

"Why do you say it in that way? Like you still dread what the pregnancy brought" Trinity's voice almost startles you. You'd been so lost in your thoughts that you'd almost forgotten where you were.

"I don't! I love Anya" his voice is stern.

"What about your wife? What happened during the pregnancy?" she's digging. Wants to find the right buttons to push.

Harry stammers, but no answer seems to satisfy him. His hands are squeezed under his things, his right leg bouncing and his eyes avoiding either of you.

"We didn't plan her, I was right in the middle of my tour. We, um, we weren't doing very good and she was about to go home" he looks at you suddenly surprising you when he meets your eyes. You can't read him, can't understand what he's feeling. You haven't been able to read him in months.

"She- You, Y/N, she got really sick in February the seven-month mark. I was in Australia and I couldn't be there. It really strained us, we fought all the time over the phone and in person. I guess that's really when we went downhill" his jaw tenses when he looks away from you. Looks like he's not happy to have to have shared this with the room.

"Okay, thank you, Harry. I think now's a great time to take a breather. I'll meet both of you individually when we come back. So, see you both here in 20 minutes?" Trinity smiles at both of you and keeps smiling until you both walk out.

-

Harry doesn't come back. You wait 45 minutes in Trinity's office looking like an idiot. She dismisses you with a look of pity on her face before scheduling another appointment 5 days later, lots of work to do you assume. You rush out of the building humiliation creeping into every inch of your body. How could he do this on the first day? It was going fairly well, well you think so anyway... did he give up on your relationship right then and there?

As you make your way to your car you see him. Harry is pacing back and forth in front of his car as he seemingly argues on the phone. His free hand waves erratically in front of him, gesturing like mad for someone who can't even see him. So this is what he's been doing? Arguing over the phone while you sat in a therapist's office waiting to try and work on your ever-crumbling marriage. You scoff before turning away from him and to your car. But nothing seems to be on your side today as your husband hears you and immediately calls out to you.

"Y/N! Why are you leaving?" you hear him walk towards you, the clacking of his shoes getting closer to you but you ignore him and walk away faster.

You're completely focused on your black Subaru, the "You're so Golden" sticker catching your eye and making you more pissed off. Something that was put there because you loved the song, because of how beautiful your husband's voice is in the song but now all you want to do is rip it right off. So, that's what you do.

Your nails claw at the edges of it desperately. You don't want any reminders of Harry on your car, you don't want to think of him while putting the groceries away, while walking around the car after putting Anya in her car seat and you don't want to see it in your rearview mirror anymore. The top corner lifts as you're pulling at it giving you the perfect leverage to rip it right off. You throw it to the ground right before turning around to stare daggers into Harry's eyes.

"45 minutes, Harry. I sat there 45 minutes with our therapist looking at me like a beaten dog!" you hiss at him. He is now only about 2 or 3 feet away from you. His eyes are wide, in shock you guess, as he looks at the sticker. "What could you have possibly been doing for more than an hour that made you forget what we were here for?" you're sure you sound desperate right now. Your head is all over the place and your heart feels like it might explode out of your chest.

"An hour? I, no, that couldn't have been more than-"

"You can go back up and ask her if you want because I really really don't want to be around you right now" and now you're crying. Fuck. Why are you crying now? You need to leave.

While rummaging in your bag for your keys Harry grabs your arm. Well maybe not grabs, he just places his hand on you, resting it there delicately. If you weren't so aware of every single inch of your body right now you wouldn't have noticed. No matter how delicate the touch is supposed to be you flinch out of it aggressively.

"I'm, I'm so sorry Y/N. That was my mother, she, fuck" he sighs and runs a hand in his hair gripping it tightly. "She wants us to go up... she's rented a lake house or something I guess" his voice is so soft, shy even.

"Us? You mean you and Anya?" god you hope so.

"I'm so sorry" is all he answers.

-

Anne Twist is a very difficult woman to say no to. Actually, it's impossible to say no to her. In the many years you've known her, she's always been able to find a way to make you say yes. Always in a good way. She loves you, she has told you that countless times, and you love her but now that you're... the way you are with her son you don't know where you stand. Yet, she has still found a way to get you to agree to something you would have much rather not have gone to. You're in a small townhouse almost 4 hours away from your home in London with your mother-in-law, your daughter and your soon-to-be ex-husband. What has your life come to?

Anya is sitting in her high chair passionately eating banana slices as you watch her. She's already gobbled up the strawberries and pita bread slices she also had for her snack. She's such a good eater always so ready to try new things and taste whatever the adults around her eat. Especially the sweet treats her dad sneaks her.

"Do you want to go take a dip after huh? We should enjoy the water my love" you coo at her as she takes her final bite of food. She smiles at you like she understood what you asked and you chuckle wiping her chubby cheeks and hands. She'll be able to float around in the water for a little bit with you before you put her down for a nap. The steps of your morning are perfectly planned so that you can have your solo Zoom session with Trinity.

There is a small river behind the house you're staying in. The water goes up to just above your breast and it's the perfect warmth at this time of day. You've made your way down to it and are now setting up Anya's towel for when she'll be too tired to entertain you and ready for her mid-day snooze. She's currently lying right by you looking up at the sky with such curiosity, probably trying to figure out what the hell clouds are.

"You're so curious my love!" you shake her gently as you smile widely. "What do you see up there?" as you look up to join her sky-gazing you spot Harry making his way to the river as well. He's only got very short grey swimming trunks on meaning his entire chest, thighs, calves, and arms are out for the whole world to see. Maybe that's an exaggerated statement as you're the only one looking right now. You want to scold yourself for staring, you really really do but he's just so... so captivating and very enjoyable to look at no matter how much you resent him at the moment.

"Mind if I join you ladies?" his voice is more cheerful than when you heard it last. Must be because he's actually speaking to and looking at Anya.

However, when you don't answer his question he looks up at you. Expression now closed off again, how it's always been for the past few months. You smile politely and nod before turning your back to both of them so you can take your robe off. Your swimsuit isn't anything special; simple black one-piece that's high on the hips and low on your back. You think it looks pretty good on you but now you feel very aware of the amount of skin you're showing. You decide to just get in the water hoping its dark colour hides you. Hides away the skin your husband might be looking at.

"Looks like mummy is in a hurry, we should join her. What do you think sweetheart?" Harry picks your baby up and makes his way into the water. He holds her tightly to his chest as he climbs in, just in case he slips on the stones he uses as stairs. Once your daughter's chubby limbs meet the water her mouth forms into an adorable "O" shape. It's the second time Anya's been in the water now so she must still be unsure about this feeling. Harry turns her so that her front faces you and her back is against him. She smiles when she spots you reaching her arms out quickly which splashes some water around. She looks at you with a shocked expression and does it again with a giggle now.

"You little troublemaker! Trying to splash me!" you tease her sending some water her way. She answers with a sweet giggle and shakes her arms around as fast as she possibly can.

"Mh, my jokester gene is strong in her" Harry's voice is laced with pride. You playfully roll your eyes at him and hum affirmatively.

"And her love for singing too" you add remembering so many moments where she hums to any song playing. Her favourite thing to do is to harmonise with her father. His deep voice always gets her attention, always gets her to mumble and hum along with her own lyrics.

"Oh yes, she's the next big thing this one" he affirms kissing the top of her small head affectionately.

It's in moments like these that you tend to forget how bad it is between you. How many horrible things you've shouted at each other not caring how deep your words could cut. The accusations, the insults, the taunts and even the lies still weigh heavy on both of you. You like these softer moments, where you're reminded of how much love you both had for each other. Have? Had? You don't know anything about your feelings anymore, they are much too complicated to understand...

All three of you stay in the river for about an hour more before Anya starts yawning and fussing. When you exit the water you're quick to slip your robe back on still overly aware. Harry wraps the fluffy towel you had gotten ready around your baby. Her head rests in the crook of his neck, her eyelids already heavy as she blinks slowly. You all walk back to the house together silently. Might it be to keep the sleepy baby calm or to keep the peaceful aura around you and your husband, you don't know.

Harry insists that he will put the sleepy girl to bed and that you should take a shower first. After all, you have the first private sessions with your therapist. The mention of her does make the air in the townhouse tense again but Anne appears immediately to kiss Anya before she naps. You use that moment to sneak into your shared room with Harry. Luckily, it has two single beds so you don't have to share with him.

Signing deeply you rid yourself of the now damp robe you had on. Another blessing in disguise, this room has an en suite bathroom so you'll be able to jump right into the shower. Before that you do want to set up your laptop for the video call, you want to be as ready as you possibly can be. You grab your device from your backpack and make your way to the small desk in the corner of the room. There's a bunch of papers scattered around it, one glance at them and you immediately know what they are.

Lyrics. Drafts of songs and melodies written by your rockstar husband. You don't mean to read any of the words you really don't but as soon as you spot your name at the top of one of the pages you're doomed. You put your laptop down on Harry's bed which is right next to the desk and reach for that exact paper.

The words you read are full of longing, pain, sadness and fear. They mourn love, they are mourning your love. You pick up another sheet of paper, this one has no title but there are so many lines written. This one is reeks of self-hatred, of shame and guilt... it shakes the weak barriers you've built around your heart. All of the lyrics you read on different papers revolve around the same emotions. These are all about your relationship. About the death of it. About his desire to turn around. You don't realise you're crying until a tear falls onto the paper you hold. The ink bleeds into itself where it's been wet blurring the words slightly. You quickly wipe your face and put the papers down. You shouldn't be looking at these, you're invading his privacy.

"Thought you were showering" Harry's voice startles you out of the chair. You meet the floor with a loud thud. Your tear-filled eyes meet his sharp ones. Scrambling up to your feet you grab your laptop ready to explain, ready to apologise over and over again.

"At least tell me what you think" he sighs walking into the bedroom and shutting the door behind himself. This shocks you. What does he mean? He, he's not mad? Isn't disappointed that you invaded his creative space? Your mouth opens and closes a few times unsure what you should answer.

"I'm sorry" is all you're able to get out. Your brain is blank in absolute fear but tears keep falling from your eyes.

"I should be apologising... you, you weren't supposed to see those" he walks in your direction slowly, testing the waters of how close you'll let him get. He's closer than arm's reach when you flinch backwards slightly and he stops immediately.

"I was going to ask you for your permission before making any of those full songs but you know music is how I cope" he whispers now that he's so close to you. Silence takes over the room again, stretching out for too long. Your eyes somehow keep producing tears as you try and speak. Hopelessly searching for words to say.

"Do you really miss us? You miss me?" is what you come up with, your voice is so shaky that you're on the verge of sobbing uncontrollably.

This shocks Harry in place, seemingly not prepared for that kind of questioning from you. His mouth gapes and his eyes grow wide. This time you do see his hands start shaking. You're not entirely sure what this emotion is.

"Of course I do. Did you not think so?" while still whispering he reaches out to hold you but stops himself hands falling at his sides.

"Yo- Harry, you asked for the divorce. How was I supposed to know you miss me?" your voice breaks. You don't understand, why is this happening now, why is he saying these things?

-

"We should just get a divorce" Harry snaps at you as he fights back tears. Your expression immediately closes up, your body reacting before your thoughts and words do. Protecting you from what he just said, building walls around you and your heart as quickly as possible.

"Fine" you spit out as you turn away from him and walk straight out of your bedroom. If that's what he wants then so be it. You won't beg for anything now that he's made his decision.

-

"I know, okay? I know that I asked for it and that it's the reason why you don't talk to me anymore. Well, you do but not really" he sighs and sits down on his bed, damn swim trunks wetting the bed "We talk about Anya and when we're not we are yelling at each other... so when was I supposed to tell you that I missed you? That I regretted asking for the divorce..." he looks at you with a guilty expression, all his emotions are coming up at once.

"Why did you ask for it?" you ask him sitting back on the desk chair with your laptop still in your hands.

"I got in my head. You were saying we should take some time for ourselves maybe live apart... with everything that kept being said about us, I got so scared" he takes your laptop out of your grip and puts it down next to him.

"I thought you were going to fight me on it..." he adds as he grabs your hands tenderly. Like he's afraid you'll break.

You shake your head in disbelief not sure what to say. Your thoughts are all over the place, what should you make of this?

"It broke my heart" When did his face get so close to yours? You should really move away. You can't fall back into him, you can't let yourself do that. So you pull away from him roughly, your hands tugging out of his hold, face moving to the side, a sob making its way out of you as your back meets the chair-back.

When you meet Harry's eyes you can see the pain, the hurt, in them. They are brimming with tears that are so close to spilling out.

"Are we... are we too broken?" his voice has dropped to a whisper. He sounds so sad and scared.

"I'm worried" You take in a few breaths before you speak again, "What if we just end up hurting each other again? What if we can't go back?" you choke out the last few words. Tears spill endlessly out of your eyes and sobs rack your entire body.

It feels like you're running out of air and the little bits you get in are painful. Your eyes burn as you cry and your hands are shaking like crazy.

Harry might be answering or trying to communicate but nothing is making its way past your meltdown. What does make it through is the feeling of his arms around you. Him pulling you against his chest tightly, immediately rubbing your back as soothingly as he can. Your hands are grabbing his still bare skin desperately, wanting to anchor yourself in any way you can. Your face rests on his peck, right above his heart, the frantic beating bouncing around your head.

"Breathe, you have to breathe love" he speaks delicately in your ear, breaking through the barrier your body has put up.

"I'm- I'm, I can't... Harry I can't" your clawing at him almost trying to get under his skin, someplace you might be able to understand everything that's going through his mind.

He wiggles around a little before laying you both down as he keeps reassuring and encouraging you. He drags you on top of him your face now pressed up against the juncture of his neck. Your left-hand makes its way into his hair, pulling at it as softly as you can manage. Harry's hands run up and down your back, your arms, and your neck and he even pets your hair delicately. He's always known how to best calm you down... how to bring you back down to earth and out of the panic attacks you sometimes get when you're overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry" he repeats that over and over with a pained desperation. Harry's scared shitless too. He doesn't know how things will go with your relationship. He can't guarantee that you won't end up actually wanting a divorce one day... But he can love you. He has and will keep loving you. He hopes it'll be enough to save your marriage. He'll work incredibly hard every single day to prove his love for you... if you let him back in he won't ever let you go. He'll leave it all up to you. Your little family is all he needs, he'll spend the rest of his life proving that to you if that's what it takes.

[asexy-phoenix]

The Blue Castle chapter 11

I love this chapter so much! It's peak comedy, excellent characterization, and it's where I knew this book would be really good the first time I read it!

Uncle James thought the conversation was sagging to a rather low plane of personal gossip. He tried to elevate it by starting an abstract discussion on “the greatest happiness.” Everybody was asked to state his or her idea of “the greatest happiness.”

I do not like Uncle James. He's exactly the sort of sanctimonious know-it-all that the Stirlings are supposed to be. And also this control of the room? Asking everyone (in a way you can't really say no to) to give an opinion? No thank you.

“The greatest happiness,” said Valancy suddenly and distinctly, “is to sneeze when you want to.”

And then Valancy! I love how in one fell swoop she not only takes the wind out of Uncle James' sails and derails the conversation, she also provides some perspective on how snobby and self-righteous everyone else at the table is. It's amazing

The rest of the dinner party is also amazing. I wish this book was adapted into a movie just for this scene. It's so comedic in the best way. Montgomery has spent 10 chapters hammering home just what unbearably pretentious people the Stirling family is just to have Valancy deflate all of the in the course of a single dinner party.

“Oh, but you know we’re all dead,” said Valancy, “the whole Stirling clan. Some of us are buried and some aren’t—yet. That is the only difference.”

The black humour in this line! It reads like a straight insult but for Valancy it's a bittersweet truth - the only reason she's allowing herself this freedom is because she's a dead woman walking.

Eventually somebody did mention Barney Snaith at every Stirling function, Valancy reflected.

Of course they do, because they're the sort of people to always talk around and about the people they don't think are Good Enough for their town.

And all their talking points about Barney read exactly like all the arguments people use about those they don't like in order to other them: "I don't need proof because he's suspicious", "his name is enough reason to dislike him", and "no one would be saying such things if they weren't true."

That last one is especially ironic because the Stirlings themselves are the ones spreading these rumours! We never see anyone else in Deerwood think very badly of him, and Abel and Cissy think the world of him. Maybe how Barney is or is not treated by the non-Stirling inhabitants of Deerwood should be its own post...

Uncle Wellington’s rather lame conclusion was due to a marital glance from Aunt Wellington reminding him of what he had almost forgotten—that there were girls at the table.

Keeping in mind here that the "girls" in question are Olive and Valancy, two women in their late twenties. It really goes to show just how much single women aren't valued in this society, even by their families.

But her excitement had been too much for her. She knew, by certain unmistakable warnings, that one of her attacks of pain was coming on. It must not find her there. She rose from her chair.

Such a relatable moment! Valancy knows there's something wrong, but to show it in front of people she knows won't care or do anything to help her except for their own sake is something she won't tolerate. It's such a painful feeling, but a very relatable one for anyone with unsupportive families

The fact that Uncle Benjamin thinks an actual funny joke is something never before seen in the Stirling side of the family is an amazing little joke and goes very far towards painting a picture of these people.

And the ending is masterful. It ends with such a nice little flourish. Truly a masterpiece of a chapter and one I want to see if this is ever adapted again.

[cytocutie]

I'm considering writing a prsk fic, but I need to know more about Japanese culture to do it right. Is there anyone who's familiar with the culture (grew up in Japan and/or has Japanese family) who'd be willing to chat with me about cultural values surrounding childrearing, death/respecting the wishes of the dead, and prioritizing between work and emotional needs?

You don't have to know the source material—below the readmore is a summary of the canon story arc, "Light Up The Fire", which I want to base the fic on. At the end of the post, I'll describe the basic idea for the fic and write the specific questions I have.

The canon arc focuses on Shiraishi An, a young street musician. An was raised in a neighborhood full of musicians, and her father, Ken, used to be in a band called RADder with Nagi and Taiga. Although An is not biologically related to Nagi and Taiga, she considers them family and refers to them as her aunt and uncle. When An was about 12, RADder held a legendary concert called RAD WEEKEND, which was so powerful that it became An's driving force. Her ambition is to gather a band of incredible talents and put on a concert even greater than RAD WEEKEND.

During her childhood, An's entire neighborhood helped cultivate her musical skills, but her aunt Nagi was her primary singing teacher, and the two of them had a particularly close bond. Nagi herself was extremely ambitious person; her goal was to "rule the world" with RADder. However, this dream was dashed when Nagi was diagnosed with late-stage pancreatic cancer and told she had only 5 months to live. With this time, Nagi decided she wanted to go out with a bang, leading her to organize RAD WEEKEND as a last hurrah. (For the purposes of this discussion, I will choose to ignore the fact that this would be medically impossible; I haven't decided how to address that part yet.)

Nagi told everyone in her life that, after she died, she wanted them to act as though she was still alive. As far as I'm aware, no funeral was held. Most importantly, Nagi chose NOT to reveal her illness to An, and convinced the entire neighborhood to lie to An about her death. Instead, An was told that Nagi moved to the US to study music. This is because Nagi feared that grief would injure An's passion for singing, because she so heavily associated music with Nagi. It was Nagi's last wish that this lie be maintained until An was "strong enough" to learn the truth. The neighborhood complied, including An's father.

Taiga and Ken finally explain the whole story to An when she becomes an older teenager. She's angry at first, but ultimately she is grateful for Nagi's decision. She resolves to work harder than ever to make her dream come true, both for her own sake and for Nagi. All of An's friends agree.

When I read this story, I thought it was extremely messed up. I believe that the adults should have told An the truth, even if it would have cost her singing career. She was robbed of the chance to process her aunt's death and to celebrate her life, and most importantly in my opinion, to say goodbye. My fic idea is essentially that An's friends will disagree with Nagi's decision and push back against Ken and Taiga.

However, I'm an American, so my own calibration of values/priorities may be quite different from the culture that created this story. As such, I want to make sure l'm not out of line here. My questions are:

Does this story resemble any common tropes in other Japanese fiction or folklore?

Are there any nuances that I'm missing here (social, spiritual, traditional)?

There is a minor character in the story, a neighbor who's about 80 years old and helped raise Nagi, Ken, and Taiga. How do you think an elderly Japanese person would react to Nagi's decision?

How would you react if you were in Ken's position? Would you respect your best friend's dying wish and lie to your daughter?

How would you react if you were in An's position, when you find out that nobody ever told you your aunt had died?

[presleyhearted]

Yours Truly - Chapter 12: A Curious Case

・❥・pairing: Elvis x original female character

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

・❥・wc: 3774 words

・❥・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: SFW. none.

chapter index | prev | chapter 13

・❥・a/n: hello all! I thank you for your patience in waiting for this chapter. I apologise for the long wait, well life happens and things get busy sometimes. Also, I will admit that this is one of the significant chapters - so I had intense perfectionist tendencies for this one. I really hope you enjoy this chapter! This will be crossposted on Wattpad as well.

if you like this, please do share and comment - it would mean the world to me. Also, if you want to give me a tip - the icon should be at the end of this chapter and on my profile bio. This is not necessary at all, so absolutely do not feel the need to. All my fics are always free. ✨

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"My soul chose yours. And a soul just doesn't forget that." - Ben Maxfield.

NOVA

The semicircular structure surrounded us, the transparency of the walls and roof effectively providing it to be easier for beams of afternoon sun to slip through the glass. The sun being an object of deception, as if I were to step outside the conservatory - I know that the almost-winter breeze will latch onto my skin. Various plants were situated on each corner of the room, as well as the usual decorative pieces that sat on top of wooden shelves. 

I sat on a sofa, opposite to the two-seater that Great Aunt Odette was sitting on. The sofas were comfortable, and stylishly woven from rattan to perfectly match the atmosphere of the room. A coffee table was situated between us, books and our empty cups of coffee rested on it. It was typical of Great Aunt Odette to spend time in the indoor conservatory, despite its functionality being best used for the summer seasons. But I shouldn’t feign surprise, as she never was rigid about such and such rules. 

I arrived an hour ago, and after the usual conversation of updating her about the normal elements in my life over dinner - I know that there is no delaying no further. With my action of suddenly calling her, and the two hours drive to her house - it is now the time to actually explain to her the purpose of my visit. There is no more sugar coating with Great Aunt Odette, and I simply wouldn’t get away with it at all - she will see right through me. 

Great Aunt Odette squinted her brown eyes at me, and I knew straight away that a question would land on me within the next few seconds. I just hope that my racing heart would slow down, in time to catch it. 

“Now, tell me Nova. . . “ She begins, “What is it you want to talk about? You said it was imperative to discuss in person.” 

Great Aunt Odette lived far out in the countryside. It was a total of a two hour drive to get to her home. It’s only been a few months since i’ve seen her, the last time being her birthday. Now, due to life and the stages of adulthood quickly approaching me - it has become harder to visit her. Although I do apologise for rarely getting to visit her, Great Aunt Odette is always quick to wave my apologies away as she says that there is a reason she chose to live in the middle of nowhere. She valued the peace and that the time in her life of constantly chasing life and being surrounded by people - she was finished with that. And so, she enjoys very little social interactions. But she is a very extroverted person. 

She is my favorite person in the entire world. If I don’t address her by ‘Great Aunt Odette’, I call her ‘Auntie Dottie’ - which according to her, is a nickname that I invented when I was a kid. Apparently, I was frustrated in being unable to correctly pronounce her name so settled with ‘Auntie Dottie.’ 

Great Aunt Odette patiently awaits my answer. The record player helps the silence, as the room is filled with the sound of soft, classical music.

If there is one person in my life that would listen to me, and understand this it would be Great Aunt Odette. No matter how ridiculous it may sound, I know in my heart she will listen to me. 

I push myself to regain my eye contact with her, as I take a deep breath. 

“I- . . . there really is no easy way to explain what has happened, and has been continuing to happen to me. I haven’t told my parents or any of my friends this. . . it’s a lot.” I said, trying to read the expression on her face. 

Her eyebrows arch as her eyes widen, “You are not in some kind of trouble, are you?” She whispers. 

I frantically shake my head, “Oh god, no. I promise you that’s not the case. “

Great Aunt Odette breathes a sigh of relief, with her hand placed on her chest. 

“Oh, thank goodness!”

“I found myself presuming so because it is very unlike you to not confide in your parents, nor your friends. “ She admits, freely sharing her trail of thoughts. 

“I promise you, Auntie Dottie. I’m not in trouble, nothing illegal, and I’m not hurt.” I clarify, in an attempt to cure her worries a little.

She pauses for a second as if trying to think through her words. 

“Have you been to the Doctor recently?” She says, her voice slow and with fear coursing her eyes. 

I shake my head knowing exactly where she is going with the question. 

“No, I haven’t. I’m perfectly healthy, I’m okay. “ 

“Then what is it?” She is at a loss for words, her forehead knotted as she looks at me in desperation for answers. 

I get up from my seat and move to sit next to her on the sofa. I lean my body sideways on the back of the sofa, as I cross my legs. 

My hands take hers as I take a deep breath, “I’ve been having dreams, Auntie Dottie.” I lower my voice, my heart releasing a shot of nervous energy as this is the first time I would ever tell someone this. 

The fear of something extreme leaves her face, but the confusion remains. Throughout the two hour drive, I tried to desperately practise how I would reveal this all to her. There is no other way to ease the confusion, there is no shortcut - it really is the case of telling her everything. There is no way to sugarcoat it or a slow build up to, because one way or another it will sound unreal. So, here I am now, I can only guarantee explaining it all as clearly as possible - no matter how insane it might sound.

“Dreams?”

I nod, “Yeah.”

“Are they bad dreams?” She tilts her head with a frown, as she sends me a logical question. Of course that is the first thing one would think. If someone was concerned about their dreams, the first thing someone would think is that they are dreaming unpleasant things. But for my case, it’s not that simple. Mine is good, but full of intricacy. 

“No, no. They are um. . .  quite the opposite actually.” 

Great Aunt Odette slowly nods, but I know that I have rendered her more confused than ever. 

“Okay. Then what is it, dear?”

I  find myself subconsciously biting my bottom lip, here goes nothing.

“Um. . . the dreams aren’t normal. At least I don’t think they are.” I respond, looking at her to check that she is still with me. Great Aunt Odette is attentive, her gaze transfixed as she nods at me in encouragement. 

“How so?”

“Well. . .  for starters I just don't think it’s normal to be waking up each morning and remembering every detail of the dream I’ve just had. I remember each word that I have said, how I felt, and my surroundings.” I have let go of Great Aunt Odette’s hands now, as I can’t help, but talk with my hands as I explain. 

I stop myself from adding in the fact that he also appears in my dreams. I need to tell her the information little by little, saying that ‘oh btw Auntie Dottie, Elvis Presley is in my dreams every night.’ There is no way I can say it like that, I need to build it up first. 

She pauses for a moment before she speaks, “Have you ever heard of the term lucid dreaming, Nova?”

I nod, “Yes. Yes I have. But Aunt Dottie it can’t be that.”

Her eyebrows furrow, “Why not?”

“I don’t go to sleep with the intention of controlling what happens in my dreams. They just happen.” 

Great Aunt Odette hums in agreement to my reasoning. 

“But when you are dreaming are you aware that you are?” She asks.

“Yes.” 

“How long has this been happening? Such things can happen to us every now and again I suppose. “ 

I bite my bottom lip, “Almost two weeks now.” 

Her eyes widened at my response, “Weeks?” She repeats, her tone full of shock. 

I nod.

“How frequently have they been occurring within that time frame?” She questions, and I can practically visualise the wheels turning in her brain as she adds each piece to the puzzle. 

“Every night.” 

“Good heavens,” Great Aunt Odette mutters, “I have never heard anything like it.” 

I sighed as I found myself absentmindedly drawing circles on the cushion that sat on my lap. 

“I-I know. Believe me, Auntie Dottie. I have googled it and all results don’t even remotely hint that this is normal. “

“These dreams. . . “ She speaks slowly and carefully, “Do you remember each one?” 

“Yeah. I can tell you right now about every detail, and It’s not like I need to write it down at all to remember. It’s…” I run my fingers through my hair, trying to find the right words, “It’s well. . . I don’t know. . . almost like recalling a memory.” 

Everyone may remember their dreams every once a while, and remember certain details. But for me to describe my dreams to the level of like a memory? It’s not a mundane experience at all. And I can confirm that the degree of it is strange because Great Aunt Odette is speechless. The words I let go have rendered her without any words to say. 

She rests her chin on her hand, gazing thoughtfully at me. 

“Give me an example. “

“Well. . . I had a dream of going on a hot air balloon ride and there was one where I went to a wedding reception uninvited. On my 21st, I made myself a promise that I would be open to new experiences, to step outside my comfort zone more. Those dreams started happening after that.” All that I have said is true, and sounds pretty normal so far. But I haven’t even begun to talk about him. I’m still unsure of how Great Aunt Odette might react.

She hums with a smile spreading on her lips, “Perhaps Nova,  it may be your subconscious mind telling you that you are heading in the right direction. I know you and I know that this is a brave step for you.” She held onto my hands, and gave them a reassuring squeeze. 

I nod, “Maybe. But there is another thing, Auntie Dottie.”

Here I go. This conversation was already strange to begin with, but now with the addition of telling her about him - that’s a completely new level of weird territory. But I silently remind myself that this is Great Aunt Odette. If there is anyone I trust more in the entire world, who I could tell - it has to be her. 

She tilts her head, eyes filled with curiosity as she awaits me to continue. 

I take a deep breath, “I, um . . . someone appears in my dreams.” 

“Who? Someone you know?”

I shake my head, “No. Not personally, at least.” 

Great Aunt Odette raises an eyebrow at my words. 

“No?”

“It’s a famous person.” 

She chuckles, “Oh, don’t worry dear.” She waves her hand, as if to emphasise the point of such a thing not being something to be concerned about. 

“Nova,” She continues, “It’s perfectly normal for a celebrity crush to appear in your dreams. “

I sigh, “I know that. But he isn’t a celebrity crush. I was aware of him, but not to the extent of calling myself a fan. “ 

Great Aunt Odette pauses at my words, and I see her eyes find themselves lost in a maze once again. A moment ago, it seemed like she was content that she found the root of all of this. It seemed that she found that the answer was simply that the appearance of a celebrity crush isn’t abnormal. Almost false hope, as she is back to square one. My Great Aunt is quite expressive, with how people often say that if the competition is to hide your true feelings about something - she would certainly not win. Her face tells it all, and right now - she is almost bewildered and frustrated. 

I decide to continue, in hopes to offer her another piece to the puzzle. 

“I understand that when someone appears in your dreams, we assume that they are there to deliver a message. But I believe that’s only  to people we are close to, people that we know very deeply. “ I find myself fiddling with my fingers again, as I set my eyes on the record player in the corner of the room.

My voice is quieter now as I say, “Not a famous singer who has been gone for decades, “ I ran my hand through my hair, “It’s not- it’s not making sense to me at all.” 

“Gone. . . no longer alive, dear?” She asks carefully, as my gaze floats back to her line of sight. Her eyes are as wide as ever, wheels certainly turning in her head. 

I nod.

“I know that sounds crazy, Auntie Dottie. Believe me, I am not making this up. No matter how ridiculous it may sound, like a plot from a storybook or something - I am telling the truth.” I explain, my words rushing out of me faster and stronger  than the wind blowing against the windows from outside. There’s that striking fear at the pit of my stomach because this is the first time that I have verbally explained my situation to anyone. 

“Who is it, Nova?”

There. The one question that will definitely seal my insanity. If the entire conversation was not abnormal enough, this final question will definitely be the cherry on top. On the drive here, I have decided to tell her everything. But I stood uncertain on whether I should tell her that it’s him. 

In the brief moment that silence passed us, Great Aunt Odette definitely saw a flicker of hesitation in me. A smile splits into her cheeks, “On second thought, keep him as a secret. “ She winks. 

I feel a weight lift off my shoulders, as I sigh in relief. 

“Sorry, it’s just-”

Great Aunt Odette stops me mid-sentence. “I believe you. I can’t say that I have heard of anything like this before, because I certainly have not. However, you are the most intelligent, logical and rational human that I know. “ She says, holding my hands tightly, “For you to tell me this - something which is miles from your beliefs - it has to be the truth. It has to be.” 

I found myself smiling, the clouds of doubt fading away. 

“Thank you, Auntie Dottie. I-I was going mad, I just kept this all to myself. Look, I can even show you my recent search history. “ I pull my phone out, in which she laughs.

“Now, I presume that you were visiting me to talk to me about this. But not necessarily expecting an answer?” She asks, and I instantly recognise the tone of her voice. It’s the tone of voice she often uses when she has a surprise that I am unaware of. 

“Yeah. . . what are you thinking?” I reply, chuckling. 

“Hm, you know me too well Nova.” She laughs as she stands up, “Come with me, there is something I want you to see.”

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

Great Aunt Odette leads me to my favorite place of her house. She throws me a smile over her shoulder, as we go inside. The room was the second most spacious room in her house, I would think. Towering shelves embedded into the walls, in a circular shape as hundreds and hundreds of pieces of literature rested upon them. A cathedral-like window took the centre of it all, but with absence of natural lighting. Instead, the place relied on the dim lightning which was suitable for the atmosphere of the room. Extensive ornate woodwork in the form of two rectangular tables in the middle. In the far right, a nicely lit fireplace was present, surrounded by dark wood mouldings. 

Overall, Great Aunt Odette’s home library is paradise. 

The soft, red carpet adorned the flooring as I followed her lead. She stops at a bookshelf on the left, with a ladder resting on it. 

“Gosh, this has always been my favorite spot.” I say, as my fingers trace the books on the shelves. 

Auntie Dottie displays a bright smile at me, “You are very right.”

I stop my actions and turn to face her, “What was it you wanted to show me?”

“You’ve always had such an appetite for reading. Always hungry for knowledge, and you have spent countless times here - your eyes engrossed in a book. You would be reading Greek mythology, history, ancient egypt. . .  I thought for a second if I should hire you as a librarian.” Auntie Dottie laughs.

“That can be arranged, right?” I play along, laughing. 

“Most certainly.”

“But there is a part of you that I think you have forgotten about, Nova.” She says, voice now serious as ever. 

My eyebrows furrow, “Hmm?”

“I know that you like facts. Facts provide comfort, it makes us feel certainty in our choices. But the discovery of those facts was born from people’s curiosity.” She gestures to the world map that is hung on one of the dark-colored walls, “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean. . . scholars and scientists had to do so much research to publish valid information for the public. It was all trial and error.” I shrugged, still unsure on where the conversation is leading to. 

“Precisely.” She muses, “Although you are no longer a child, there is one element you must carry throughout all stages of your life. The one aspect that will keep your life balanced - curiosity. “

I chuckle, “Great Aunt Odette, if that is what you are getting at then you shouldn’t worry. I’m still a very curious person. Like you said, I like to plan and assess before jumping into something.” 

She shakes her head and chuckles, “Oh, Nova.” She mutters. 

“I promise I am.” 

“I’m not doubting you, dear. “ She assures with a smile, “I am only saying that you are lacking a different sense of direction. The most curious people are the ones that don’t fret over details about something - they just jump.” 

I remain silent and wait for her to continue speaking. 

“When you were a child you loved reading storybooks. Yes, girls like to read fairy tales about princesses. “ She shakes her head, almost deep in thought before her eyes shift back to me. 

“Nova, do you remember your favorite book when you were a child?” Great Aunt Odette asks, almost in a quizzing manner. Her eyes squint, as she awaits my response. 

I’m at a loss for words. It is true that I used to read many storybooks when I was a kid, as a kid normally does. But the subject of my favorite book - my mind is actually blank at the question. 

“I. .  .  I actually can’t remember.” I say, my voice sounding quieter. 

A knowing grin shines on Great Aunt Odette’s face, as she slides the ladder to one of the shelves. It is a good thing that the ladder is one of those that have wheels at the end, so it prevents her from having to carry it from shelf to shelf. 

She starts to climb the ladder and I immediately reach my arms out in alert, “Auntie Dottie, I don’t think you should climb that.”

“Don’t worry, dear. I’m not going too far.” She replies, her back now facing me as her hand reach out and flips through the books on the shelf. She mutters to herself before an excited, “A-ha!” leaves her mouth. 

To my relief, she safely makes her way down the ladder and stands right in front of me. A dark blue hardbound book is in her hands, but the front cover is faced down. 

“Wherever you went as a child, you had this with you. Other kids would have a stuffed toy with them as a source of comfort. But you had this story, this book with you. It was only when you turned eight years old that it was put down. I know your parents don’t favour thoughts of adventure, of spontaneity, of the unknown. “ Auntie Dottie sighed heavily, “And I know that they only have your best interest at heart. But you're an adult now, Nova and you are young. You get to choose how to let that place of curiosity grow within you. “ 

Great Aunt Odette is my favorite human being on earth, but unfortunately she is not my parents’ favorite. They describe her as being too risky, too uncertain and ‘wild.’ Although she was the one who babysat me during numerous times of my childhood, those ended quite abruptly when I was around the age of eight years old. I remember asking my mom why Great Aunt Odette can’t babysit me anymore, and they simply said because I was “growing up.” and how Great Aunt Odette’s “foolish ideas” aren’t ideal for me. Great Aunt Odette was and is the polar opposite of my parents. Her perspective in life is, to say simply ‘live your life to the fullest’, and I suppose my parents won in that respect. I became exactly how they wanted me to be; safe, always within the lines, and never taking a risk. I do love my parents, I really do. But it is in this aspect that I start to wonder if I have gone too overboard, too safe. 

“You said that you wanted to show me something, after I told you about my dreams. Is this. . . ?” I trail off.

She smiles knowingly and nods, “Go on, turn the book over.” 

I follow her instructions and immediately gasped at the cover. The title is in cursive, with intricate illustrations on the outer aspects of the cover. 

It read: Peter Pan and Wendy by J.M Barrie 

“Oh my god, “ I shake my head, “How can I forget about this?”

Then I remember why Auntie Dottie is showing this to me, “Do you. . . is this why. . . “ 

She nodded, “There may be no scientific explanation for your dreams, Nova. But there doesn’t have to be. The universe has a way of guiding us, of pulling us towards something as a final push to where we are supposed to be. To better ourselves. “ Her eyes flicker briefly to the book, “That sometimes you need to be reminded of the beginning, in order to make some sense of the now.” 

chapter 13

[alynnl]

My Objection. (Ace Attorney: Justice for All Ramble)

What I’m about to say is my opinion based off my gaming experience in Ace Attorney. My very biased opinion ahead.

So I have seen one opinion that have been shared by a great deal of the Ace Attorney fandom that I respectfully disagree with.

“Justice for All is one of the worst and/or weakest entries into the series.”

I have been around the internet enough to know that a great deal of the fandom doesn’t like this game as much as the others.  However, I see its value as a bridge between Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney and Ace Attorney: Trials and Tribulations.  And I also see the overarching themes Justice for All was going for, and acknowledge the efforts to try and show it.

It’s about grief.

Phoenix Wright experiences the apparent loss of his dearest friend Miles Edgeworth and he struggles to cope with it, being unable to even speak his name.  Maya Fey learns that her aunt Morgan was behind a conspiracy to frame her for murder and that her innocent little cousin, Pearl is the only living family she has left.  Franziska von Karma takes out her anger on Phoenix in the courtroom, finding no other way to cope with the empty void left behind by her father Manfred and adopted brother Miles than to secure an absolute victory.  Mimi Miney, Acro and Adrian Andrews all go to extremes (committing or planning to commit crimes) because they lost someone near and dear to their hearts.

It's about purpose.

Phoenix has to really think about who he is, what he's doing with his life, and why when his resolve is tested. Edgeworth states with his words and actions why he stands in the courtroom after a whole year of being absent. Franziska has to rethink her own life in the ending scenes, when she's clearly shown that there is no such thing as a flawless trial. Detective Gumshoe chooses to keep investigating the final case despite (temporarily) losing his job because that's what he feels is right.

It’s about loyalty and trust.

Gumshoe is willing to help Phoenix and Maya on all their investigations, despite being on the prosecution’s side.  Maya trusts Phoenix both times she ends up in trouble. Phoenix trusts the advice of his mentor, Mia as she speaks through Maya and Pearl.  It’s a small moment, but Gumshoe is the first person Edgeworth speaks to, letting the detective know he’s alive and he’s been watching the events that play out in court from a distance.  There’s a major moment where Phoenix meets Edgeworth outside the courtroom, and they cooperate inside of court to make the trial as long as possible to help Maya when she’s taken hostage. Even Franziska comes through for Phoenix and Edgeworth when all seems lost, and they trust that she has brought important evidence to court to truly turn the trial around.

With themes like these (and possibly others I may have overlooked, as I am going completely by memory), I can say that Justice for All is a solid entry in the Ace Attorney series. It shows character and relationship development that was interesting and made sense for the situations the cast was faced with. It was a great story to follow in my first play through of it, and I'm actually curious to see how well it holds up in a later replay where I know all the plot twists.

If you read this far, thank you for hearing me out. What was about to be a rant of fiery passion turned into my gushing about just one part of my newest gaming obsession. I will probably have many more thoughts going forward, since Ace Attorney's writing lends itself to that so well!

[nellie-elizabeth]

Outlander: Where the Waters Meet (7x06)

Lots of good stuff to talk about!

Cons:

I remember this from the books, that Jamie's time fighting for the rebels keeps kind of dragging on and getting addendums added onto it. Like, you think he's done, then he gets pulled in elsewhere, and keeps saying yes again and again... it felt a little messy in the book too, and here I find myself antsy to get to Scotland and all the stuff that happens in the aftermath of that.

Pros:

In the aftermath of fleeing from the fort, Jamie and Claire try and help sneak as many people away as they can. One woman, frantic and sure that the Indians are going to take her, ends up running off and when Claire goes to find her, she watches the woman take her own life, and is then captured by the British. When taken to their camp, she finds her patient Walter Woodcock, and she also finds... William. I loved Claire showing her compassion and strength as a medical professional again, and that William, even upon finding her to be a rebel, wants to help her out as best as he's able.

The scene with Ian is also illuminative of what a good egg William is. He's got his strong principles, but deep at heart he knows the right thing to do doesn't always align with his orders. After thanking Ian graciously for saving his life, he discovers that Ian is here to rescue his aunt, and is in fact a rebel as well. His anger at being lied to is clear, but end of the day, he feels he owes Ian for his own life, and owes Claire for his father's life back when he was sick at the Ridge. (If only William knew how many times Claire had saved the life of his other father...)

The scene where Claire tells Jamie all about William was really heartwarming. It was the most emotional part of the episode for me, even beyond their reunion after Claire had been taken by the British. We also see Ian and Rachel continuing their growing connection. They're pretty adorable, I actually think I'm warming to them more on the show than I ever did in the books.

One more note on William: he's properly shamed by Richardson for failing to deliver the letters he was given. Richardson explains that the messages were for spies among the rebels, and William feels terrible for failing in his mission. Richardson promises he'll get a chance to redeem himself. This is bound to be interesting, given what I know is coming. It's a good way to set up William's core values, and how far he'll go to prove himself.

Meanwhile, the 20th century plotline ended up surprising me by being maybe my favorite stuff in the whole episode? Roger is really working for me as a character here. We see him working on his time travel book to give to the kids someday, and also teaching a class to the community, in Gaelic. He's such a natural with kids, and the moment where they all sing in the Gaelic, call and response, was really touching. And then he's doing so well for himself as a stay at home dad, too. he's really starting to settle into his life here and find his purpose. It strikes me more than it ever did when I read these parts of the books, how much of a tragedy it is that they're not going to be able to keep the life they've been building for themselves here. I also really liked the moment with Rob Cameron forcefully inviting himself over for dinner at Lallybroch. I know where it's all going, of course, but honestly it was just cute to see Roger all flustered, trying to figure this guy out, and determine whether he might be making himself a new friend.

And... we see a hint of exactly how everything might start to unravel, as Roger finally tracks down the mysterious figure who's been lurking around the property, scaring the children and eating their food. It's... William "Buck" MacKenzie! What could he be doing here! Stay tuned to find out more...

I'm really happy with all the stuff we're getting to see in this season. It's maybe the most I've enjoyed this show in several years - I'm sad that season eight will be the end of this show!

8.5/10

[pacifymebby]

Yooooo I just had this crazy dream of the modern peaky blinders with euphoria characters lmao I won't say what all happened because I have a shit memory and my mind is a weird junkyard filling my dreams with crazy nonsense but this one actually kind of makes sense

but I was talking to Maddie then MICHAEL GRAY walks over and they kiss, I was freaking out for a second but then it just made sense, because they both love money and power, Maddie values money more but it takes power to be able to do nothing and Michael also loves money but values power more but power means to have enough money to do what you want, they're similar also not cause one doesn't want anything life threatening to happen to anyone else and the other is literally a gangster so they just balance each other out

so I would give them this to describe them⬇️

☯️yin yang☯️

and now I can't stop thinking about what characters work well with other characters,

like Cassie's mom and John would FOR SURE work well with each other both of their inappropriate humor and drinking problems would definitely draw each other together but have enough differences between the two to where they don't even consider anything else than a drinking buddy, but they also know what it's like raising kids on their own for a while but also know of the others parenting style, they ignore this fact halfway through the night and watch million dollar match maker together so it only makes sense they're ⬇️

✨alcoholic besties✨

Rue's mom and aunt Polly would clash over their legal/illegal views on the world but would definitely agree on most things cause y'know taking care of out of control children all on their own and they both have common sense so obviously they're ⬇️

💥frenemies💥

(or at the very least have an understanding)

Tommy would definitely see something familiar in rue, cause y'know they both used/use drugs and relationships as a way of coping with serious issues in their life and tend to make decisions that put them in really dangerous situations and the complete disregard for their safety and actually caring about their family but ultimately make decisions that hurt them but still makes things work out in the end somehow, and rue would straight up just think he's creepy as fuck and stays far away as much as possible so I would give them ⬇️

🌛cautionary tale/dumb kid🌜

Jules dad and aberama gold, Jules dad through out the show is supportive of Jules and most likely approved of Jules getting hormone therapy and regular therapy supporting Jules in who she is and who she wants to be as well as regularly going out to eat and talking and we later see that he always checks up on Jules when he thinks something so seriously wrong like when Jules runs upstairs when her mom comes back and she waits for her dad upstairs or when he runs after Jules when she runs away but she doesn't talk to him because she doesn't trust him it's because of outside forces not him and her dad actually makes Jules get professional help not because he thinks there's something wrong with her but because she genuinely needs help and he understands why she won't talk to him but also understands she needs to talk to someone, aberama goes to the scariest mf in Birmingham because he can potentially help Bonnie on his boxing dream, Abe tests tommy to see if tommy would even help Bonnie and his dream, he does this by trying to buy to buy Charlie's yard, to see if tommy would do it but he only does this for bonnie because we find out Bonnie's tired of traveling(at least it's hinted) but after Bonnie's death we find out abe buys at least a miles worth of land with over thirty years worth of money and was already planning mansion (20 bedrooms specifically) with their own gym for Bonnie and stables to breed horses, all for Bonnie and his dreams

which makes both David and aberama ⬇️

🧑‍🍼supportive and understanding dad's🧑‍🍼

There's so much more I could do but I'm just gonna stop now

toodles 🤙💜

(ps I'm sorry if this looks weird I did this on my shitty phone because my dumb ass broke my computer anyways love you and your writing and hopefully your dreams aren't as weird as mine because I left out some weird ass details that I will take to my grave, as always you're amazing 😚💋)

Oh wow thats so cool, a crazy dream for reallll and so detailed?! I wish i was having dreams like that. But omg i love how your mind works cause I haven't actually seen much of euphoria (is it good i keep thinking i should try and watch it and just never getting round to it haha) but I think i understand what you mean about these characters. I love what u said about money/power between Michael and Maddie and how they can want the same things but in different ways.

Also everything you said about John is so right, i sometimes forget that theres this more serious side to him because hes always so laidback and playful but youre right, he really does know the struggle of raising kids alone but also i dont know, has a specific way (maybe not the best) thats like lighthearted way of making the best of a situation and just going with thw flow. I love the idea of him bonding with a single mum like that and becoming alcoholic besties haha (might write a modern au imagine based on this whole idea tbh)

And omg the stuff you said about Aberama is so true, i hadnt even thought about it that deeply in terms of him testing tommy and having all those plans for Bonnies future (and honestly it broke my heart a bit and i now have to live in a world where bonnie isnt dead and he's training in his own private gym in the Gold mansion) but Aberama really is just such a devoted father who wants the best for his son <3 <3 <3

Bestie ur so clever for all of this i love this message haha ❤️❤️❤️

[livesinthebalance]

// Well, @quick-drawn, you asked these questions a while ago, but I'm finally getting around to answering them and you're about to find out exactly how alike James and Jesse really are, if there's anything we haven't discussed to this point.

JAMES VALDEZ

Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory?

James' childhood was… A bit of a mixed bag. His worst memory is probably from the time he was six, the night his mamá , Esperanza, came home late from work. His dad was a violent alcoholic—one of the reasons that James seldom touches the stuff. Thankfully, it wasn't a bad incident, but it was the first time his mother wasn't there to draw his attention and bear the brunt of it. James still, despite his young age, remembers his mother finding him in his room, trying to stop crying. She packed the most important things into a duffelbag that night and they left while his father was passed out in his armchair to go to his aunt's house and stay with her for a while. He never saw the man again after that. One of the better memories [ or, at least, one of the more humorous ones ] is how his little sister—because his mother realized she was pregnant not long after they left—got her name. Calista Valdez was named 'Calista' because a young James told his mamá that the newborn baby looked ugly, and his mamá pointed out to him that babies usually do but that she has no doubt that this baby will be just as beautiful as her first.

What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?

James hated school. Canonically, this genius drank some liquid soap to make himself sick once to get out of going to school. [ He did not count on HOW sick he would get and never did that again BUT the point stands. ] I feel like that says plenty. But, honestly, saying that he hated school in its entirety isn't exactly true. He enjoyed learning and had the ability to soak up knowledge like a sponge, a skill that he has retained into the current day. What he didn't enjoy was the bullying and the pettiness from the other kids, aimed at him and others. He didn't enjoy teachers who were so insecure in their ability to teach anything outside of the curriculum that they would eventually stop calling on him when he raised his hand to ask a question, and then would make him pull a card when he finally grew impatient and blurted out the question. He hated the childish politics of school. He hated how hard his mamá—a single mother—had to work to put him and his sister through school with everything they needed. James only made it as far as graduating high school. He joined the military as a means of trying to get through college, mostly because his mamá wanted so much for him to go, but that never happened because she died and then he spiraled hard and ended up working for the cartel that he made his way out of after getting himself, and only himself, caught by Overwatch. As far as favorite subjects go, I feel like he was such a geek. He loved history and he enjoyed the practicality of math. He did not have the patience for Literature as he didn't really have the patience—or time, considering he took on a job as soon as he was old enough to help his mother—to really sit down and read. He also didn't much care for Grammar, because he thought it was completely stupid to have to diagram a sentence, because when are you ever going to have to do that in the real world. [ Even as a child, James was always fairly practically minded, after all. ]

Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?

He cannot cook and you should never let him near a stove ever if you value the money you put into your food. HOWEVER, he is great if you set him at a grill in the backyard. Some of the best food you will ever taste, honestly. Why he can grill but not cook is anyone's guess. He can't really tell you either.

What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress?

Ha. Hahaha. Ha ha. Ha. Sleeping pattern would imply that James sleeps. I have a whole headcanon post on his original, canon blog about his sleep. I will edit it and link it HERE after I post because I don't want to lose what I've typed so far and I don't trust my browser not to kick it and reload. As far as what do they like to sleep on, if James sleeps, he can sleep almost anywhere. What he likes to sleep on is a fairly firm mattress with ton of blankets and more than a few pillows.

What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?

This is a difficult one to answer. If I had to summarize James' biggest fear, I would say the overarching umbrella would be Loss. Loss of CONTROL. Loss of people. Loss of ABILITY due to his NERVE DAMAGE. [ But Failure and not being Enough are very close seconds. I also have some headcanons about that, and I'll link them HERE as well. ] And how does he react when he's scared? Badly, would be the first word that comes to mind. Mainly, fear for him tends to come out as Anger. It's never Lay Hands On Somebody—aside from maybe grabbing them by the front of their shirt to bring them in close to get their attention, or unless the other person took a swing. Sometimes it's a Cold, Seething Anger. Sometimes it's a Loud Mad Anger. Regardless, fear seldom ever displays as clearly evident fear. It is almost always Anger. [ That is usually directed at himself because of the very fears that place second. ]

[becca-e-barnes]

Your dad’s best friend is struggling to adapt to living alone, so you make an offer to move in temporarily to help him. The only problem is, this is the guy you’ve been thirsting over for a long time.

The Divorce

Finally!! I’m so sorry this took a little longer than I planned! Kind of merged a few different ideas that you guys seemed keen on into one fic here! Personally, I don’t place a huge value on virginity but you guys asked for it so here it is!

Pairing: Dad’s Best Friend Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 4.5K (No wonder this one felt so long!!)

Summary: Your dad’s best friend is coming out of a rough divorce so you agree to keep him company. He’s also quite surprised to hear you’re still a virgin

Warnings: Smut, alcohol mention, significant age gap (Bucky is in his 40’s, reader is in her early 20’s), loss of virginity, handjobs, dirty talk, praise kink, divorce mention, cheating mention, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, food mention

Minors, do not interact

You weren’t sure what was going on with Bucky anymore.

The usually reserved older man was the very definition of sunshine and light these days. His smile took over his face, he was so easy going, nothing seemed to bother him in the slightest.

Bucky was quite a positive person, all things considered, so that wasn’t really out of the ordinary.

But what surprised you was the fact that he was still so happy not long after finding out this wife had been cheating on him.

He hadn’t even known her all that long, in truth. They had dated for a little while, married quickly and moved into a house together but that was all in the space of a year. She’d barely lasted two months of being ‘Mrs Barnes’ before Bucky came home from work early one afternoon and caught her in their bed with her coworker of all people.

She’d begged for forgiveness of course. Begged for a second chance. Begged to make things right but Bucky hadn’t given in.

And why should he? Sure, he was secretly heartbroken but he knew what he wanted. He knew he didn’t want to stay married to someone who didn’t value him like he valued her and he was totally right. Even though almost everyone saw it coming but him.

But your dad wasn’t convinced by Bucky’s act. Not even a little. He had known Bucky far too long to believe Bucky would be okay so soon. Marriage, in Bucky’s eyes was a commitment. He was so dedicated to his wife and he valued her, even if they didn’t always seem like the happiest couple in the world. No one looking at their relationship from the outside could’ve said they seemed particularly in love but that was no one’s business but theirs and for a while, things had seemed to be working regardless.

But now Bucky had moved out of his house, leaving his soon-to-be ex wife in it. He had moved into a modest little apartment, one that was dull and drab but it had a bed, a kitchen and a bathroom so it would do in the short term.

“Honey, do you think you could do me a favour?” Your father asked nonchalantly at dinner one evening and you nodded a little, your mouth full of pasta.

“There’s a big game on tomorrow night, you wouldn’t mind keeping Bucky company, would you? I have to work late and your mom is going to your aunt’s and I just don’t want him to be left alone at the moment.” He knew he didn’t need to tell you what sports game it was. It’s not like you would care much anyway.

“I was just gonna crash on his couch afterwards, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you doing the same.” Truthfully, you weren’t all that interested in sports but you shrugged your shoulders and agreed anyway, knowing that you and Bucky would have a nice evening no matter what. He just needed some company, you didn’t really have to pay attention to the game.

So that was how you ended up climbing the stairs up to his flat the following evening, a few of your dad’s beers and snacks in hand, ready to spend the evening with your head tucked in your phone.

You gave the door two little knocks, tucking a flyaway strand of hair behind your ear before it opened, Bucky standing on the other side, beaming as always.

“Angel! Thank you for coming! God, look at you, you look beautiful, come in!” He grinned softly, arms wrapping around your waist as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

It was torturous how good he smelled, never mind how good he looked.

“Good to see you too Bucky!” You laughed, only able to hug him with one arm.

He was sporting just a little stubble but it suited him, his body so warm as it pressed against yours.

But then his heat was gone almost as quickly as you had registered it, one hand on the small of your back, leading you inside.

The place was spotless, everything neatly arranged but his own belongings were minimal. There were no photos anywhere, nothing personal and it made you more than a little sad for him.

“Game starts in half an hour sweetheart, I was just gonna make the nachos your dad likes and order some food but we can get whatever you like.” It wasn’t hard to see the excitement radiating from him and that’s when you realised you were probably the first person outside of his job that he’d spoken to in quite a while.

“Sounds great Bucky, your nachos are the best!” Your enthusiasm only made him happier, as did the fact you didn’t hesitate to make yourself at home, opening a beer each and placing the rest neatly into his fridge.

It was almost strange how natural it felt, being so domestic with Bucky, just letting him work away in the kitchen while you sat on the counter, talking about work and anything else that popped into your heads.

He listened to every single word you said, actually taking an interest in everything you talked about and God, did it feel like such a pleasant change.

The beers slowly disappeared as you chatted on the kitchen floor, your backs pressed against the kitchen cabinet, the game playing in the background, almost entirely forgotten about. Not that either of you cared. For Bucky, it was never about wanting to watch the game, it was about company and companionship, usually with your dad but he was finding your company just as fulfilling. He didn’t actually care who won or lost in the slightest.

It didn’t take long for the beers to run out, moving on to something a little bit stronger. You were both pleasantly buzzed, your tongues getting looser under the effects of the whiskey, innocent touches lasting just a little too long, his eyes flitting over your body, hoping he didn’t accidentally spend so long staring at your breasts that you noticed.

“God honey, it’s awful but honestly, I just miss the sex more than anything else. Miss feelin’ her. It’s so stupid, jus’ can’t…. Can’t stop thinkin’ about how good it felt. Shit, it’s pathetic.” Bucky was getting vulnerable and you were happy to listen, taking his hand in yours to offer a little support.

“It’s not stupid Buck. Keep going, it’s good to talk about it.” Bucky wasn’t even sure he wanted to. Definitely not with you anyway. Not when your body was so close to his, your perfume intoxicating him more than any drink ever could and shit, you were understanding him even though your life experiences were so different to his.

“I’ve said enough angel, the divorce is for the best.” He smiled sadly, looking down at your linked hands, giving yours a little squeeze.

“It’s definitely for the best Buck. But I get it, losing that intimacy must be awful. I mean, I wouldn’t know but… You two were close. Sex must be nice when you trust the other person like that.” Bucky was hanging on every word that tumbled from your lips, watching as your mouth moved, feeling the cogs in his brain turn slowly.

“You wouldn’t know? I’m sure you’ve dated in the past?” Bucky asked softly, the alcohol emboldening him to pry into your private life. He had spilled his to you so it was only fair.

“I mean yeah, I’ve dated but I’ve just never… Found someone I trust enough to have sex with. Never felt like that about someone before.” You felt like you should’ve been embarrassed to admit your little secret but your blood in your veins was buzzing pleasantly, another sip of whiskey washing over your tongue and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Shit angel, you’re a virgin?” Bucky sounded enraptured. “You’re easily the prettiest girl in this town, you could have anyone you want.”

“It’s more than that though Buck. Want to be with someone who knows what they’re doing. Don’t want it to be awkward and awful and sore. Wanna enjoy it. Wanna feel good.” Every last word was making his heart thump, blood rushing to his dick of its own accord.

“I guess you’re right angel. Those boys your age only care about getting themselves off. They have no idea what good sex means for a woman.” His lips looked so pink and soft and wet with whiskey, you almost felt a little lost just looking at them.

“Just need a man I can trust. A man I know will take care of me. A man that knows how to make my first time exactly what I’m looking for.” Your breath felt scorchingly hot against his face. Oh god, when had you moved closer? How hadn’t he noticed? Your fingers were still laced together, you thumb running gently over his and that’s when he realised, he needed this far too badly.

“Sweetheart…. We um…. This isn’t a good idea-“ he began but he was cut off by the feeling of your lips hitting his.

He couldn’t help the heat burning inside him as your hand came to tentatively land on his cheek, his hands moving to your waist to pull you closer. Between opening up about the divorce and hearing you were a virgin and the fact you were both sobering up very quickly, Bucky was getting lost in the feeling of being wanted. The feeling of taking care of another and being taken care of in turn.

But shit, the kiss was getting far too heated far too fast and he could feel how badly you wanted this. He could feel your passion, your need for your first time to be on your terms and he almost admired how you weren’t afraid to tell him exactly what you wanted.

But you were both getting far too caught up in the moment and he’d be damned if he was going to let your first time be on the kitchen floor of all places. So instead, he helped you up, joining your lips in another gentle kiss before encouraging you to jump up on him, into his waiting arms. Your legs wrapped around his waist, helping him carry you to his bedroom without ever breaking the kiss.

You were breathless by the time he dropped you onto the bed, watching in awe as Bucky hovered above you looking flushed and excited but almost scared.

“You know you can stop this any time angel? You don’t have to go through with it if you don’t want to. The second you tell me to, I’ll stop. I won’t be upset.” You hadn’t expected him to be so tender. You had a fair idea he would be a considerate lover but this kind of soft spoken intimacy was quite foreign to you. It was certainly not unwelcome though.

“Bucky. I want this.” You whispered, letting your hands grab at the edge of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head. Before the thin material had even fallen to the floor his lips were back on yours again, letting you set the pace.

The feeling of your soft hands exploring his bare chest almost drove him wild. You weren’t timid in the slightest, no you were keen, eager and so damn excited he couldn’t help but feel the same.

“Can I take your dress off angel?” He breathed, barely even removing his lips from yours to whisper the words out. Your little nod was all he needed to have the confidence to reach down, finding the hem quickly to pull it up over your head.

The sight of you left him speechless. An endless expanse of soft skin and sweet curves, beautifully encased in a delicate white lace bra and panty set and that’s when he realised just how much thought had went into this evening. You’d planned for this before you even got here.

“Do you. Have any. Idea. How beautiful. You are?” Bucky’s little praises were broken only by the gentle kisses that he pressed to your skin. There was no rhyme or reason to their placement, he was just going along with whatever felt right.

“Bucky please… Don’t tease.” Your breathlessness caught him off guard, the need inside you becoming unbearable. You had waited far too long to feel what sex was like and you would be damned if you were going to wait a single second more.

“Keen aren’t you sweetheart?” He laughed softly with a confident smirk, ridding himself of his jeans. His dark boxers were tented deliciously, the outline of his thick cock was so evident, straining against the material.

You couldn’t help how your mouth watered as you reached over and pulled his boxers off, his hard length springing free.

“You happy to take your underwear off honey?” he asked quietly, pulling you from the filthy thoughts filling your head. Rather than answer him, you shimmied out of your panties, letting them fall to the floor in a little damp heap. Your bra followed quickly after, Bucky’s hands moving to cup your breasts while his lips made their way to your neck.

You could hear every soft groan that left him as he played with you, pinching and rolling your nipples into stiff buds. His cock was resting perfectly between your thighs, pressing against your slick sex but certainly not trying to breach it yet.

“Never gonna get this sweet body out of my head angel. You mind if I work you up a little? Don’t wanna hurt you.” Fuck, it melted your heart how he could say something like that sounding overly confident and cocky. He wasn’t over exaggerating his size or trying to suggest he was too impressive to handle. No, Bucky was just genuinely intent on making this good for you and easing the discomfort as much as possible.

“Touch me Buck. Please. Give me something.” Your eyes fluttered shut as one of his huge hands moved from your breasts, down between your legs, two fingertips dragging ever so lightly over the exposed skin that no one but you had touched before.

“So wet for me aren’t you?” His whisper pulled a groan from you, his finger dipping between your folds, coated in your slick. You didn’t care how wrecked you looked, not paying attention to the fact your hips bucked up of their own accord to meet his hand.

“So wet Bucky, please.” His heart melted at your little plea and how the hell was he supposed to deny you?

Slowly, Bucky began to slip just one finger inside you, drinking in the whimper that left you. One was certainly bearable, it wasn’t too much of a stretch, in fact it felt nice.

But then his finger started to curl and God, it felt better than just nice. You could feel him rubbing parts of you no one ever had before, parts you couldn’t reach by yourself and it didn’t take long for the feeling to become unbelievable.

“Have you ever cum before, honey?” Bucky whispered over the sound of the slick noises your body was letting out.

“I, ah- I don’t know Bucky. Touched myself before but n-never felt this good.” He couldn’t help but chuckle, working his finger in and out of you at a nice steady pace.

“Show me how you touch yourself angel.” His voice was so low and sinful it made you shiver, your hand drifting down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Bucky I need more. Please gimme more.” You were breathless, arching your back off the bed, chasing a high you didn’t know how to handle.

“Gonna give you another finger. Might hurt a little but I’ll try to be gentle.” You couldn’t have possibly cared if it would hurt or not, you just needed something more.

As he pulled his finger out on the next thrust, he lined the second up beside it, pressing in slowly.

“Oh that’s it, good girl, takin’ me so well. Doin’ such a good job for me.” You weren’t sure if it was his praise or the stretch that made you whimper but you were loving how both made you feel.

Finally, your own fingers started working your clit again, Bucky taking that as a cue to start moving ever so slowly, rubbing your sweetest spot just as he had before.

Two fingers felt so much better. It was a tight fit but you couldn’t deny how good it felt.

It didn’t take long for your body to respond, a knot in your belly tightening, your toes curling slightly.

“That feel good sweetheart? You think you could cum for me?” You were nodding at his words but you weren’t even sure you knew how.

“Buck… I’ve never…. This feels different.” You whined, trying not to desperately fuck yourself down on his fingers.

“It’s okay honey. Just do what feels right okay? Rub yourself faster if you need to.” He was so gentle with you, letting you take the chance to chase your peak.

His fingers didn’t stop, yours sped up and it didn’t take long for you to be writhing, almost crying, right on the edge of a feeling you couldn’t describe. You knew you had to fall into it but how?

But then Bucky’s fingers crooked slightly differently, you rubbed yourself just a little harder and it all came crashing down at once. You felt yourself tighten around his hand, a wet heat covering the insides of your thighs as pleasure consumed you.

“Fuck oh f-fuck Bucky.” You whimpered, your eyes catching his and you could’ve swore there was no where else in the world that man would rather be in that moment. He looked enthralled, his fingers never stopping, letting you drag every last second of ecstasy out as long as possible.

“That’s it. Keep going honey, doin’ so so well. So pretty for me.” His words were soft but his eyes twinkled with a kind of lust you knew was reflected in your own. His cock was throbbing but he was happily ignoring it. This wasn’t for him after all, this was all about you.

Eventually, your high subsided, Bucky taking the fact your fingers had stopped as a cue to stop his own.

The feeling of him slipping from you was almost disappointing, your body fighting to keep him in.

“You want to stop there honey? I won’t mind if that’s all you wanna do tonight. That looked intense.” He laughed quietly, stroking your hair gently with his free hand, pressing the tiniest of kisses to your forehead.

“No chance, Barnes. You’ve been holding out on me.” You laughed quietly, your chest heaving after so much excitement but still ready for more.

“Would surprise you what tricks you pick up.” Bucky laughed softly, drinking in your enthusiasm and the feeling of you leaning over, taking his cock in your hand.

Your nerves had melted away. You weren’t shy in the slightest. No, you were a confident young woman, thriving off the unknown and he loved it.

“Just like this honey.” He encouraged softly, placing his hand over the top of yours teaching you how to jerk him off the way he liked.

You couldn’t help but watch his face, loving how his eyes fluttered shut, pleasure clouding his brain. A little gasp left his lips when you squeezed ever so slightly harder, giving him nice tight strokes, focusing on his head since it seemed so sensitive.

“Oh fuck, spit on it honey. Don’t be shy.” He breathed, rutting his hips ever so slightly into your hand. His bare thighs looked so strong and powerful yet here he was, practically purring against your touch.

You did as he asked, albeit slightly timidly, leaning over and spitting in his head, letting the saliva trickle down his length, massaging it in with your hand.

“Good girl, that’s it. Feels s-so good honey, makin’ me feel incredible.” He didn’t mind taking the second to let you catch your breath. Why would he? You were making it so enjoyable for him, his little grunts filling the room.

“Bucky… Can we… You know.” You asked quietly after a moment. Not that you weren’t enjoying jerking him but you had bigger ideas in mind in that moment.

“Of course sweetheart, you ready?” He asked softly, his eyes opening and finding yours, sincere and gentle but twinkling with passion.

You nodded gently, letting him take the lead, laying you back on the bed, his lips on yours in the kind of passionate kiss that left your head spinning.

His hands felt like they were everywhere all at once. One ran up the side of your body gently, reverently, feeling your soft skin. He worshipped you, letting you have a second to get ready and truly decide if this was what you wanted. And God, it was.

“Bucky…” you groaned quietly, pulling him out of his haze, dragging him back to the present.

“You wanna stop. You want me to slow down. You want to take a second to breathe. You let me know. This is all on your terms.” You knew he meant every single word with all his heart. You knew there wasn’t a single thing to be worried about either. Bucky would take such good care of you.

But rather than explain all that to him, you reached up and cradled his face in your palm, letting him press tiny kisses to your wrist as he lined himself up at your entrance.

You were soaked by now, no doubt about it. The evidence of you first orgasm let him slide into you with ease, his length slowly starting to divide your walls, your body welcoming him in. It certainly wasn’t euphoric. It wasn’t uncontrollable pleasure. In fact, it was hardly pleasurable at all. It was a stretch, tinged with pain and discomfort.

“Almost all the way angel. God you’re doing so well for me. Swallowin’ me up.” Bucky’s voice grounded you a little as he continued to press into you.

You stuck it out for the next few seconds as he slipped entirely inside, bottoming out with a groan.

“It’s a lot to take baby girl. Look at you though, doin’ so well for me. Such a sweet girl. Gonna give you a minute honey. It’s gonna feel so good though, I promise.” You couldn’t help but believe him, your walls fluttering around him in a desperate scramble to get used to the invasion.

After a minute or two of being doted on, kisses peppered to your neck and shoulders, the stretch didn’t feel so bad anymore.

“C-can you move Bucky. Think I’m ready.” You whispered quietly, digging your fingers into his bare back.

So he did. He drew his hips back, pulling out almost the entire way before sliding back in slowly, a groan leaving both of you.

“S-shit you’re tight angel. Feels so good, you know that? Fuck, tighter than I could’ve even dreamed.”

His little cries had you whimpering, your body still sore but the pain was definitely subsiding with each slow movement.

But it didn’t take long for the pain to stop altogether, giving way to a pleasant ache for more.

“Faster Bucky, God please gimme more. N-need you.” You sounded wrecked in the best way and Bucky was more than happy to give in, setting a nice decent pace.

“Can’t believe how good you feel, so wet and warm and ah- you’re so keen. Grippin’ me like your little pussy doesn’t want me to stop.” His head had fallen to the crook of your neck, almost panting at the feeling of you swallowing him up.

“Gonna give you more baby, you think you can take it?” He asked quietly, his hand slipping down between your bodies to rub your sensitive little bundle of nerves.

Everything felt heightened as soon as his fingers connected with it. Any lingering discomfort melted away into a pleasure so sweet, you weren’t sure how you had ever lived without it.

“I can take it Bucky please, need you to fuck me.” Hearing such filthy words fall from such sweet lips did something to Bucky he couldn’t quite explain. The moan that you tore from him almost seemed to reverberate around the room. His hips sped up, not just fucking you, more grinding into you, every movement assaulting that sweet spot he made you aware of earlier.

The sensation was so m different to that which his fingers had offered. This was all encompassing, his blunt head spearing into you in a way that felt so good, you could almost cry.

“Fuck, ‘m losing it angel. Lemme know if I’m going too fast, okay? I’ll stop everythin’.” As soon as you nodded, his filthy grind sped up and your body reacted of its own accord. Sounds escaped you that you didn’t even know you were capable of, your fingernails digging into any exposed skin of Bucky’s you could reach.

“O-oh Bucky fuck, fuck holy shit that feels so good. Oh no Bucky please, I’m gonna cum. No God, I’m gonna cum.” You whimpered, held right on the edge of such intense pleasure all of a sudden. A low growl left Bucky’s throat, his breath coming out as a strangled pant against your neck, his body casing you in, trying desperately to catch up so he wouldn’t overwork you chasing his own release.

“Jus’ a minute longer. Hold it for me baby girl.” He whispered through gritted teeth, rolling his fingers against your delicate bud.

“Bucky I -oh. Fuck, what happens when I cum with you inside me? Oh shit, how do I, ah!” Your little desperate pleading gave way to a high pitched moan, your orgasm hitting you far harder than you could even have anticipated. Your cry suddenly silenced, the pleasure not stopping, your body trembling as you rode it out, barely registering the deep grunt that came from Bucky.

“Shit, angel that’s it, milkin’ my cock, feels so good you know that. Takin’ every drop. Now this little pussy’s got a taste of my cum, you won’t be able to stop, will ya?” Your head nodded, the feeling of Bucky’s balls emptying inside you making every conscious thought leave your body.

But all too soon, he was pulling out, flopping onto the bed beside you, pulling you into a warm embrace. Your bodies were sweaty and fucked out but feeling so close to him still felt lovely, his lips littering kisses wherever he could reach.

“Well? As good as you dreamed?” He chuckled quietly, taming your wild hair as much as possible before pressing a kiss to your head.

“Far far better.” You laughed softly, almost delirious from the endorphins coursing through your body.

“Hm, I’m glad toots.” You didn’t need to see him to know he had the exact same content smile on his face, wondering how one earth you could possibly find so much comfort in each other

Taglist:

@1-800-imagines @mysweetlittledesire @margowrites @justatirednightowl @babebr @allydrabbles @stucky-my-ship @white-wolves-and-grey-skies @harrysthiccthighss @sebsbrokentoe @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @badgirlwolfy @igotmajordaddyissues @baebee35 @pumpkin-spice-and-barnes @i-l-y-3000 @buckybarnescanfckme

[namjooningelsewhere]

In You, I Found Myself: Part1

✿Pairing- Kim Namjoon X Reader

✿Genre- e2l, angst, fluff, smut

✿Au- arranged marriage, CEO , e2l , bed sharing

✿Rating- 18 +

✿Word Count- 17.4k

✿Warning- Low Self Esteem, Depressive Thoughts, Suicide Attempt (please read at your own risk, Do not read if this triggers you in any way), Familial Conflict, cursing, manipulation.

✿Summary- Being a pushover was hard, and as much as you despised being it, Life never seemed to favor you. From deceased parents to relatives who put you on the line for their own benefit, Going as far as arranging your marriage with the hotshot Kim Namjoon, Who abhors your presence and the knot that binds you to him.

But everything changes when the man that hates you, Becomes your biggest supporter And brings in with him a family that you always longed for. Maybe it's right to believe that with him, You've finally found yourself.

A/N - Jay @jayhopely My bestie thank you for helping me with the banner and also for beta-ing this huge fic for me, I am amazed by your capabilities to finish it in just two days. But again ive known youre super talented:) You've been teaching me so many new things. Thank you for being a solid rock then and now not only for my fics but for me as well, I LEGIT DONT KNOW WHAT IM GOING TO DO WITHOUT YOU:(

Thank you and ily<3

✿Taglist - @akacamiworld @vanilla-sky01 @301295rkive @borahae-reads @namsona17 @little-dark-empress @daphnxy @shatzkrinslinzki @afangirllikeme-blog

There are two types of people in the world: Those who do what they're supposed to do, living their lives under the control of others, following a monochrome routine until death parts them from their misery; and the other type who do everything in just one lifetime, the thrill of life being their very elixir.

You belonged to the first category. You lost your parents at the age of five, and from then on, you grew up with your aunt and uncle and their two kids. Min Hyun Woo and Min Su-Bin made sure you were always reminded of the fact that you weren't their kid. It wasn't as if they treated you badly, or deprived you of your childhood, but it was five notches down compared to how their children Joo-Won and Seo-Yeon were treated.

They say that children learn from their parents. You weren't sure what else they picked up from their parents but they definitely did pick up the habit of treating you lesser than them. Say you broke a vase, you would find your aunt screaming her lungs out, reminding and ingraining it clear in your brain from where it was imported, how expensive it was and how irresponsible you were to break it and how you definitely did not value money. But if the situation was to be reversed, Su-Bin would make sure her child was okay. If he/she didn't get hurt by the glass or crockery, she went as far as pacifying them with a, “It was just a vase, we will get a new one.” Such was the difference.

Honestly, you never minded these things. There was one thing that your Aunt and Uncle often forgot: the fact that the very mansion they lived in was yours. They moved in immediately after your parent's death and the mansion that was your home, built with the love and care of your parents, was soon replaced with their greed and indifference.

Coming to your parents, they were literal geniuses. Min Ye-Jun and Min Yun-Seo were examples of how a couple should be. They met in college, fell in love, and by the time they passed, they already had the foolproof plan of their company with them. Since both of them were acknowledged scholars, their grants combined brought their brainchild ‘Digitron Systems' to life. And just within a tenure of five years, Digitron Systems became the biggest company in its field and your parents royally entered the billionaires league with new ideas in their mind, and you in your mother's tummy.

But all good things come to an end, and so did the story of Min Ye-Jun and Min Yun-Seo in a car accident. You were left in the care of your father's younger brother and wife and as for Digitron Systems, Min Hyun Woo became the interim CEO. It wasn't that they didn't work hard, they did. But compared to the heights that the company had been scaling when your parents were the CEOs, these were baby steps. Fortunately, Digitron Systems was a major brand by then, so the name was enough to keep the company running fully functional through all these years.

Why didn't Min Min-Hyun didn't become the CEO and remain the interim CEO was a mystery to you all these years, but you dared never ask. From age five to twenty-five, you grew up and became the exact opposite of what your mother was— weak, afraid to speak up, and happy to live under the rock. You completed your master's from Seoul University in Computational Science and Technology. Fortunately for you, your Uncle and Aunt let you complete your education in peace under the fear of what the elite society would say, rather how would they explain your lack of education to society.

You had a fair idea of what happened behind your back and how unwanted you were in your own house but you chose to ignore it. After all the years and the absence of love, care, and dignity, Min Y/N turned out to be a failure. That's what you thought. You were never validated, all you ever thought of yourself was a burden.

But there was one area that you were quite useful— to sign. Your parents had made plans for an unseen future too. So the moment you turned eighteen it was a provision in their will for you to hold and exercise the power of the signee in major decisions of the company. That's all you did. Sign. Whatever your Uncle and brother asked you to sign, you did. You never mustered the courage to ask questions and fight back, forget about fighting for what was rightfully yours.

______________________________________________________

The Min Household bustled with some extra energy today, everyone was running around with an extra bounce in their steps. Your Aunt, especially, looked extra cheerful today as she ordered the staff around. The preparations were in full swing and you looked around in confusion as the day seemed a little brighter in the household instead of the usual cold, dead atmosphere. That's what you liked to call it.

“Ahh, Y/n have a seat.” Your Uncle who was seated at the head of the table called you, and you reluctantly made your way to the chair assigned to you. He put his chopsticks down and soon enough, the remaining three joined the table.

“Y/n, I want you to meet someone today. He is the son of my very dear friend Kim Jun-Seon.“ You looked at him in confusion. The term ‘meet someone’ was already ringing warning bells in your head— were you about to be married off to someone you didn't even know?

“Samchon I–”

“Y/n, are you questioning your Samchon? Has he ever thought of anything besides your well-being? Did we raise you to question us like this?” Your Aunt faked annoyance by her overdramatic and very old move— gasping with her hand on her chest.

“I did not question—” You tried to reason but like every other time, you were cut off.

“That's what I thought.” Your Aunt smiled at you, gesturing to her husband to continue.

“So, Namjoon is a well-known businessman and I think you would make a perfect wife for him.” Your Uncle smiled at your shocked state and you nervously sipped on your glass of water while your cousins giggled at your predicament.

“Meet him for lunch at the Country Club at 2. Is that understood?” You immediately recognized the edge to his voice and meekly nodded your head. Great, so you were about to be married off to a stranger you had never seen once in your entire life and you didn't have a choice, but then again when did you have one?

You finished your breakfast in silence and went up to your room to find a ‘marriage meeting appropriate’ dress that your Aunt had gracefully termed it as. You huffed at your wardrobe, getting irritated at the situation. You plopped down on the bed and closed your eyes in irritation. You were dying to scream at every living being but you definitely couldn't do that.

You picked the least interesting dress that you could find in your closet and paired it with a denim jacket and threw on some white sneakers with it. You curled your hair in waves and applied a light nude lipstick to go with it. A businessman, is it?

The driver was already at the door, Waiting for you. Without a word you got into the car and sighed irritably. You pulled out your phone and googled the so-called businessman and immediately the page loads with the results.

You were taken aback by the picture of the man staring back at you through your screen. If this was the man that you were potentially going to be married off to, then you certainly were missing out on something. Kim Namjoon, the heir to Kim Inc. was certainly an enigmatic man. He looked beyond handsome and for a weak minute, you almost thought the screen didn't do justice to the man's godly appearance. Those fierce eyes, and dimpled cheeks along with the most perfect set of teeth you had ever seen.

Thoughts plagued your mind into deep confusion, so deep that you didn't even notice the car coming to a stop at the entrance of the club. Your driver politely pulled you out of your thoughts and you thanked him sheepishly.

You got down and straightened your dress and made your way to the restaurant. You checked the time and you were exactly ten minutes early for this impromptu surprise meeting. The host led you to the assigned table and you patiently waited for Mr. Namjoon to arrive.

Half an hour later, disappointment started creeping up your veins. If he did not bother showing up or at least informing you that he couldn't make it, it was very clear that he viewed you the same way your Uncle and Aunt viewed you as. A dispensable being.

You get up from your seat in utter disappointment and leave the table without a complaint and start taking defeating steps towards the door. The doorman opens the door for you with a polite smile and you smile back. At least somebody else deserves to have a good day.

______________________________________________________

Namjoon ran his fingers over the rim of his glass of whiskey patiently, while Yoongi and Jin bickered among themselves over some issue which wasn't even of importance in the first bit.

“Poor thing looks disappointed.” Jin sighed, turning his face towards the bar while Yoongi kept fidgeting with his phone.

“Serves her right for agreeing to marry a stranger who she hasn't even met.” Namjoon took a big gulp of his whiskey in irritation, gesturing to the bartender for a refill. He had been present, way before you had come to the country club, and from what he gathered from his father, you weren't going to complain to anyone. You would suck it up. There was no sense in wasting his precious thirty minutes on a stranger, who had it inbuilt in them to suck everything up that was thrown their way.

“A little communication would have been nice though you know?”

“A little warning would have been nice you know, if my father was going to spring up this stupid marriage on me? But did I get it? No! Then that girl doesn’t get one either.” Namjoon scoffed.

“And now you're just projecting.” Yoongi and Jin tried to reason with Namjoon but they knew well this man wouldn't be reasoned with when he was mad, and right now, Kim Namjoon was absolutely livid. He was given a five-hour notice just like Y/n to meet a potential match for marriage, and if Namjoon knew anything about his father, he was already betrothed to Y/n. His choice and his say didn't matter to the old man.

Namjoon was sick and tired of his father dominating his life over and over again. He wasn't opposing this marriage because he had someone in his life, he was solely against the idea of this marriage because this was nothing but a business transaction to his father.

His father announced at breakfast that he would be meeting a potential match for lunch today, Min Y/n. He had nothing to say about the girl except for the fact that she was a pushover, and the only added advantage that she had to her side was that she was the heir to Digitron Systems. Namjoon sensed his father had very shady motives.

He knew his father was a vulture and the lengths that this man went to were scary, and his father had him right where he wanted. Despite being qualified and more than ready to be the CEO, his father had kept him hanging by the thread. He didn't want to let go of the position yet and Namjoon had been working extremely hard for it.

Namjoon was tired of his father and his games, so he had made it clear when his father asked him to marry Y/n that he would not stay at the mansion anymore.

If nothing, he would be able to breathe in his own space, and Namjoon was sure this was the only outcome that was going to come out of this useless marriage.

"Joon-ah, chill the fuck out, you don't know her side to the story. From what you've said, she doesn't seem to be in a good position either. Rather than humiliating her, I would suggest you rather go and talk to her." Namjoon looked at Yoongi in defeat, knowing he made sense.

Maybe this was his way out .

__________________________________________________________

Y/n entered the mansion with a gloomy look and a sad state of mind. Is this how her life after her marriage would be too? From what she remembered, her parents never had such a marriage, then why did she have to have it?

Namjoon didn't bother letting her know he wouldn't come, nor did he apologise for his rude behaviour and that certainly did tell a lot about a person.

"Y/n-ah come here." Her Aunt's shrill voice greeted her inside the seating area and she looked at her in shock, her Aunt was actually walking towards her with open arms.

"You're going to be the daughter-in-law of the Kims." She hugged you tightly and you choked on air.

How the hell were you supposed to be their daughter-in-law if the son of the Kim family didn't bother to show up? Isn't that the unsaid sign of someone's disinterest?

"I-"

"Oh, I know you're happy and I'm glad the meeting went well, Namjoon must have a liking towards your kind." Your eyes widened at her words, was that really what he said?

It was beyond you why Namjoon did what he did, he certainly wasn't a good person if he ditched his future wife first and then went on to lie about it.

"The wedding will take place four weeks from now, Jun-Seon and Namjoon will be here to discuss the wedding later in the evening." Your Uncle's voice boomed through the hall and you had no choice but to go along with it, as you always had. Why bother even informing you at this point?

You absentmindedly nodded your head to everything they said and ran back to your room. Once the door was shut, you immediately screamed your lungs, muffling the sounds by stuffing your face in the pillow.

This wasn't what your parents might have wanted for you, this wasn't how you wanted to live your life, the Y/N that your Uncle and Aunt had molded into the years were two different people.

The Y/n that stayed in your mind kept screaming murder whenever something unfair happened, but the Y/n that was physically present would just nod her head and move on. You would just suck it up, and that was your downfall.

__________________________________________________________

The atmosphere continued to be the same as it was in the morning, useless enthusiasm and utter chaos.

The staff running around as your Aunt yelled useless instructions, not that they didn't mean anything but it was rather her instructing one thing but changing it the next second. You didn't get the point of doing all this, all the futile attempts at doing these preparations because the groom's family was already well acquainted.

The evening rolled by, with your extreme anticipation and a single visit from your Aunt to make sure you didn't throw away their dignity in front of the dogs, inshort, dress up according to Min's standard. It was like they forgot at times that you were a Min too.

The Kim's arrived at the given time and you looked behind Uncle Kim’s back to see if the man was here or he'd ditch this too. Though secretly, you prayed for the exact thing, for him to miss this charade.

With the afternoon's incident still imprinted fresh in your mind, you scowled at the tall figure that appeared behind Uncle Kim.

You stopped breathing for a second looking at the man, dressed in an all black suit, Kim Namjoon absolutely defined all terms of beauty.

Your eyes met for a second when his father moved a little to the side to greet your Uncle and he immediately withdrew his gaze. His face was etched into a stoic expression, making his displeasure of being here at this moment evident.

Your Uncle and Aunt led them to the dinner table, while you lingered behind everyone looking for an escape, there could be a chance if you were somehow able to escape this hell hole and make a straight beeline to your room.

You notice something move from the corner of your eye but the voice of your Aunt takes your attention away from it.

"Y/n come on, join us, don't just stand there like a guest." Your eyes widen at her statement, considering you've been a guest in your own house for the past twenty years.

"I think I forgot something in the hall, let me just grab it real quick." You don't wait for a response and immediately turn around and make your way to the main hall from the dining hall.

If you could just disappear until the dinner started, then nobody would notice you and you could happily bounce back to your room, and that would be the end of this night.

But you were definitely wrong.

Strong hands grab yours by the passage and you let out a squeak at the rough grip. You see Namjoon looking down at you with a stern expression. And before you could utter a word, the next words that came out of his mouth resolved any questions you had. He had never said yes to this marriage and it was forced onto him as much as it was onto you.

"Say no to this stupid alliance, I have no intentions to get married to you. I don't need a pushover like you in my life." He growled and little beads of sweat started accumulating on your forehead, he looked like a monster waiting to be unleashed with his clenched jaw and those eyes that could possibly rip you of your life any second.

"But I-"

"I said, cancel this marriage. Did I stutter Miss Min?" He threatened and you nodded.

Never did you have the strong urge like today to throw your reality in your own home in someone's face. He must be kidding you if he thought your words held any weight here or if your Uncle and Aunt would possibly let you cancel this alliance.

"Y/n-ah, will you come in ?" Your Aunt's voice cut the thick tension between you and Namjoon. He hastily let go of your hand and ushered you inside while he followed closely behind.

You took your seat at the table while Namjoon took his seat right next to his father. The staff started serving the dishes and everyone started discussing the details of the wedding. You tuned out most parts of the conversation, keeping your eyes strictly glued to your food.

Dinner passed by just as fast as it had come and you had looked up just once when the chamomile tea was being served, only to notice Namjoon already glaring at you. You quickly averted your gaze back to your lap, immediately, the material of your dress looking more appealing than the Greek god who was soon to be your husband.

The night seemed to go on for quite a while, the men discussing everything, from the wedding to matters of business. While your cousins had already retired to their respective rooms, your Aunt's sharp cough had glued you back to the couch when you tried to follow them.

Of course, you were the bride, after all.

"Well, it was nice meeting you Y/n-ah, take care of yourself." Uncle Kim muttered, giving you the fakest plastic smile, and you bowed politely to him. How could you possibly feel nice about meeting a person when you've actually never had a word with them, was still a question to you. Maybe Uncle Kim found people who just sat there and nodded their heads nice, that was the only logical explanation that you had.

Namjoon glared at you again before he left, greeting your Uncle and Aunt along the way. You wanted to say so much to this guy— for treating you like shit, almost threatening you, but all you could manage was to look down. Again.

"We will have the planners coming in from tomorrow, so much work. I think I've already added a few extra years to my face and it's not even my daughter's wedding." Your Aunt complained as she got rid of her earrings while making her way upstairs and her words hurt you more than they should have. Twenty years was way too long to have not gotten used to such comments but it still hurt like a bitch. You shift uncomfortably and try to find the voice to say something.

"Samchon I-" Your Aunt and Uncle stop midway and look at you as you have grown a second head. God forbid you could finish one full sentence in this house.

"Any problem Y/n?"

"Samchon I wanted to-"

"-Thank us for finding you such a wealthy family and such a worthy husband?" Your Uncle completed the sentence for you and once again any hopes of completion of Namjoon’s request had gone down the drain.

Funny how you thought any of your words would be paid heed here, your Aunt and Uncle had already gone up to their room leaving you standing like a fool.

You dragged your feet up to your bedroom in defeat, mentally preparing yourself to be exposed to the wrath of Namjoon the next time he meets you. You tried. You definitely tried. He should have known better than to put trust in you. Your words were never heard in this house, forget paying heed to them.

You had to be kidding yourself if you thought your life would be any better after you would be transported to the Kim household. You were going to be what you were here, a pushover.

__________________________________________________________

"I don't want to marry her."

"What did you just say?" Namjoon’s father bellowed at his son's statement, all while Namjoon stood there, rooted in his spot, throwing angry glances at him.

"I said, I don't want to marry her." Namjoon stated firmly, not taking his eyes off the old man even once.

"I heard you the first time, brat, but I don't remember asking you." He growled and Namjoon took a step back, clenching his fists. He knew exactly where this was going and he didn't want to end up giving this man exactly what he wanted..

"Don't I get a choice in deciding who I want to spend the rest of my life with?"

"Did I give you a choice to become the sole heir of Kim Inc.? Did I give you a choice to inherit all this wealth? You will have it either way. So have Y/N either way too."

"She's not what I want, and Appa to quote what you said, ‘that girl’s a meek cat, won't save her own life by speaking up’. I don't want to marry such a girl." Namjoon tried to reason with his father, but the old man simply snickered in disgust.

"Do you even know how much Digitron Systems is worth? I'm giving you a legacy, you foolish, ungrateful brat and this is how you repay me?" Namjoon clenched his fists harder, barely compressing the urge to yell at his father but he knew where this would lead to if he did.

"You just don’t care about me! I won't marry that woman." Namjoon uttered the last words in utter desperation to which his father looked at him in disgust and made his way upstairs.

"I am not fucking marrying that woman, Appa." Namjoon yelled.

"Again! I did not ask you, Namjoon. Three weeks from now, Y/n is to become your wife and you will stand on the altar if you want to be the CEO of Kim Inc. and also the MD of Digitron Systems later or you can make your own bloody money." His father bellows and Namjoon throws the vase in front of him in frustration, shattering it into a million pieces.

"You better have called off this wedding Y/n," Namjoon mutters as he makes himself a drink.

If only he knew how wrong he was, so wrong.

___________________________________________________________

The loud blaring sound of your alarm wakes you up from your sleep the next day, disturbing the wonderful world that existed only in your sleep.

The unknown number danced in front of your crusty eyes and you decided to ignore the call. The least you could do was decide who could wreck your head this early.

You tried sleeping again but sleep had already bid goodbye after the blaring call, which you didn't bother returning back. You got up lazily and decided to get ready, while your phone kept ringing. You finished your shower in a haste, deciding to tend to this dying person who insisted on calling you every minute. But nothing could have prepared you for the hellfire that was going to be rained down on you by none other than the man who was supposed to vow to respect and protect you.

"You had one job." The voice roared at the other end, your eyes devoid of any traces of sleep that could have been left in your brain.

"I told you, didn't I? I told you to call off the wedding." Namjoon kept shouting on the other end without allowing you to speak and tears welled up in your eyes. Was this how it was always going to be, him yelling and you trying not to cry?

"I-"

"Just shut up, fucking shut up!" Namjoon bellowed again and you shut up under the fear of worsening his temper. Funny how everytime it had to be you who had to moderate the temper issues people had, be it your Uncle, Aunt or your cousins and now Namjoon. Funny how nobody ever thought it was their damn responsibility to keep themselves under check and be careful of not hurting others with their words.

"If you think you're out of your hellhole, and somehow you're gonna live here any differently, let me break that bubble, you're going to end up in a fresh one." Your eyes widened at his words, while Namjoon hung up the call right on your face.

You never expected things to change, you never expected things to be any different when you would have a different surname but hearing it out loud made a different kind of shiver run down your spine.

This had to be bad, this was bad. A harsh knock sounded on your door, throwing your thoughts out of the window. You dragged your feet to the door, only to find your very displeased Aunt waiting like a lioness ready to devour her prey.

"Why aren't you at the breakfast table already?" You looked at her like a deer caught in headlights and a confused expression on your face, why would she personally come to call you when she had an army of servants at her beck and call.

"One thing, one thing you had to do and yet you can't seem to do that right either." She huffed, waving her finger at you and you immediately put your head down. How many wrong things could you do in a day?

You walked behind your Aunt defeated, while she kept muttering about how annoying you were. It stung bad but you had already grown immune to these small stings, though the bigger insults still got to you. These snide comments had stopped breaking your heart years ago. You were annoying, your existence was unwanted, you got that. Why was it necessary to rub it in your face?

You reached just in time to the table before your Uncle got there and your cousins threw an annoying look at you which only irked you further.

It was surprising that the entire family was waiting for you, and you definitely smelled conspiracy.

Your Uncle took a seat at the head of the table and cleared his throat while you looked at all of them curiously, waiting for the hell to unleash.

"Y/n-ah your wedding preparations begin from today and all you have to do is go for the fitting of your wedding dress, rest you can leave it to us, like always." You nodded at his words and he began eating his breakfast.

"Appa, I want to wear Gucci for her wedding, and I want an Armani tux." Your cousins voiced their wishes to which your Uncle nodded, smiling all sunshine on them.

"Of course, choose what you want to wear. We will have it done." He gestured at his wife who only beamed at her children.

"My daughter is going to look the prettiest." She fawned over her daughter which kind of made you jealous. They continued to bicker over their breakfast while you continued to wonder how happy your parents would have been today when their daughter would be walking down the aisle in a matter of a few weeks.

____________________________________________________________

"Miss Min, these are the options that we have." The manager of the store showed you the array of the white dresses that were hung, each more beautiful than the other.

You ran your fingers delicately over the lace of the dresses, admiring each of their intricate designs, mentally imagining yourself in these dresses.

Funny how these little things that go into making a bride’s happy day didn't make you any happier. While the store was filled with daughters and mothers, fiances looking at their brides trying on the dresses as if they were the prettiest being in the world, you stood there alone with two stylists ready to help you with your choice.

All you could do in this moment was be thankful that you atleast had the choice to choose your own dress.

"I would like to try this please."

The assistant nodded with a polite smile, taking the dress with her to the trial room, politely requesting you to follow her.

You checked the dress out in the mirror, smiling at the look of it, it hugged your curves well once the fitting was finished, the delicate designs and frill adding to the overall beauty.

The stylist finished adding the clips to your waist to give you a brief idea of how the fitting would be done. You looked at the dress again but it didn't give you the vibe you were going for anymore. Although you had liked it at first, it didn't give that vibe off anymore .

"There are other options too, Miss Min, you can have a look at them." The stylist must have noticed the hesitance in your eyes. You nodded at her and she quickly made her way out to bring in the other dress.

You wore the second dress and instantly knew this was it. The dress came in a shade of pearl white and it had flowers all over the upper body, mixed with lace and hand woven flowers. The way it hugged your body looked surreal, the deep neck giving off a sexy yet elegant look, not that it mattered anyway.

You smiled at the overall look and the stylist immediately gave a happy smile. She excused herself, and you kept looking at yourself in the mirror, tracing the patterns on the dress.

You didn't notice the stylist entering again and while you were busy getting lost in the white heaven, you felt something on your head and immediately goosebumps littered your skin as you looked up.

She had placed a veil on your head.

"You look gorgeous, Miss Min." She beamed at you and exited the trial room.

The look was complete, everything felt surreal at this point. Assembling the entire dress, minus the bouquet, hit a realisation that you were actually being wed exactly twenty days later to be precise.

Tears streamed down your face as the situation hit you. You had never imagined even in your wildest imagination that you would somehow be okay with the kind of situation you were in right now.

What kind of bride only chooses her wedding dress in her own wedding? And more importantly, what kind of bride is okay with the fact that her husband hates her guts? There was nothing much you could do right now and there wouldn't be anything much that you could do in the future either. All you had to do was suck it up.

Only if it were that easy.

____________________________________________________________

The wedding preparations started from lazy meetings with the planners to full blown discussions between the elders about how the wedding must be a feather in the cap for both the parties.

You never saw Namjoon for any of the meetings for the wedding, he was maybe running, you thought. Although there was no need for your presence, you had no idea why your Aunt insisted that you sit with them in these meetings.

Twenty meetings later, you hadn't even uttered twenty words. It was your wedding for god's sake. But it was always like that, wasn't it? You massage your aching temples as the last touches to the ceremony were finalised and everyone dispersed for their work, which did not concern you.

All these days, eighteen days to be precise, you had no contact with Namjoon, except the one phone call he had made to rain down hell fire on you.

You knew nothing about Namjoon and you doubted he knew anything about you either. There wasn't much to know either way. Twenty-five years old, barely two friends who were now away from your hometown, no boyfriends either so far, no parents, an extremely introverted and afraid person by nature.

That was all there for Min Y/N.

A twenty-eight year old businessman, extremely short tempered, full of attitude. That was all you knew about Kim Namjoon, exactly forty-eight hours before you would be promised to each other forever.

___________________________________________________________

"What the hell is wrong with you, you fool?"

The loud banging of the files on the wooden table jerked Namjoon back to reality, his attention strayed from the files he was working on. He looked up at his father who was fuming, smoke ready to burst from his ears.

"What did I do now, Appa?" He sounded cool and composed, which most of the time irked his father too much.

"I told you ten days ago to go pick a ring with Y/n, give me one good reason why you haven't gone yet." He thundered and Namjoon closed the files in frustration.

"I forgot and for that reason, I told you ten times I don't want to marry her. But you never listen, do you Appa?"

"Kim Namjoon, you better leave this instant, pick Y/n up and go get your wedding rings. I will not have your ungrateful ass stand at the altar without your wedding ring."

Namjoon banged his fists on the table in anger, the only way he could voice his disagreement and muttered an inaudible ‘fine’ and banged the door on his way out.

Namjoon fumed at his fullest as he drove to Y/n's home. He was very comfortable with his life, focusing his entire attention on becoming the best he could, the best possible version, be it for becoming the CEO of Kim Inc.

Out of nowhere his father barrelled Y/n into his life, disrupting everything. For one, he never thought of getting married, maybe later, yes. But if he was ever to get married, he definitely wanted someone who was intelligent, well-spoken and someone who was brave enough to choose, choose for herself, choose what she wanted in her partner and with a levelled head.

Y/N was the exact opposite, his father called her a meek cat, a pushover. He definitely didn't want his wife to be called that. What kind of a life would he be looking at with such a person?

He was supposed to marry Y/n because she had Digitron Systems, but he had no greed for power, all he wanted was free reign over his own company and for it to be the best. But it turns out that the old man had different plans.

He had no idea what he was going to do, afterall, by this time tomorrow Kim Namjoon would be a married man.

____________________________________________________________

"Oh, Y/n, I was about to send someone to call you right now, look who's here?" You slipped two steps and landed on your ass as soon as you saw you your Aunt was referring to.

"Forgive her Namjoon-ah, Y/n can be clumsy at times." Your Aunt smiled sheepishly as you got up and dusted your dress. Namjoon's expression turned to disgust as he kept watching you, and your Aunt smirked, looking at your clumsiness.

You had first handedly embarrassed yourself in front of your fiance and the fact that he was here gave you all sorts of ideas of the new type of hell fire he was here to rain on you.

"Namjoon is here to take you to get the wedding rings."

Wedding rings? Wow. That had entirely skipped your mind. How come he had remembered it just a day before your wedding? How did the planners forget this detail was beyond you.

Namjoon cleared his throat and took his leave, gesturing to you to follow him. You walked with him upto his car and he immediately got in, you hesitated a bit, but got in immediately after he honked twice.

The entire drive was silent, except for a few glares he sent your way and you thanked every force in the universe for not exposing you to his wrath. You saw the way Namjoon was clutching at the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white and you couldn’t muster the courage to talk him because of the way he was going up in flames. It showed on his face— he kept clenching his jaw, the death grip on the steering wheel and most importantly, his refusal to utter a word to you. He never spoke a word.

You reached the store and Namjoon parked the car and hurriedly got down. He only waited for a moment before you got down and before you could take a step ahead, he locked the car and stormed off, leaving you rooted to the spot. The long strides that he took gave away his disinterest of even walking with you for a few steps. This had to stop, you didn't know how but this definitely had to stop.

All this hate and anger towards you had to stop, Because as a matter of fact, you never did anything. You were just informed of the decision. Then why the hell were you being punished for something you didn't choose. You made up your mind to talk to him on the way back, no matter how hard it was.

The Kims and the Mins combined were enough for the store to put together the rings for you and Namjoon in a few hours' notice apparently.

“Mr. Kim, Ms. Min, you can choose anything from this exclusive collection and we will have it delivered to you early tomorrow morning.” The sales assistant politely explained the situation and waited for your choices from the set of perfectly breathtaking solitaires that decorated the crystal box.

You felt a pair of eyes on the side of your head and you in an instant knew, You had to pick a ring, quick. The sales assistant started with the heaviest and most expensive ones, but that didn't interest you one bit. Instead your eyes fell on a simple single stone ring and that fascinated you the most. Just a small stone in the middle, that was perfect. Just the way you liked it. You had never liked anything over the top. You took the liberty to choose the ring since you chose your wedding dress.

The sales assistant gave you the most amusing smile as you pushed the ring towards her, her eyes clearly mocking you. You paid no heed to her and looked elsewhere. You already had enough of that in your house, and you certainly didn't need that shit from outsiders too.

“Is that what you're going to wear after you’re the wife of Kim Namjoon?” His harsh tone was enough to make you regret your choice for a lifetime. You moved a little to the side and Namjoon immediately took over.

“I want the most expensive ring you have. I need it delivered tomorrow. Charge it on this card.” You looked at Namjoon like he was about to throw a shit load of money away, The most expensive one? Was he crazy? Who were you actually going to show that ring off to?

“I don't think such an expensive ring is necessary. I'm okay with the simplest one.” You managed to speak a full sentence under the death glare that he was throwing at you and you were ready to take his wrath, but you definitely weren't going to waste a shit ton of money over you. Namjoon kept his composure in the store, you could clearly see that.

The moment you left the store, Namjoon grabbed your arm twice as harshly as he did the first time. You yelped in pain but he paid no attention. This was going to bruise. It would show, definitely show in the wedding dress. There were no sleeves in the first place.

Namjoon nearly toppled you over three times with the grip and the speed that he was walking towards the car with, and you had to steady yourself real hard in case you fell down, face first this time.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He roared and you took a step back in fear. The anger that was showing on his face now was a hundred times more than you had ever seen.

“I-”

“I am stuck here forever with your sorry ass, nobody asked me, Threw you at me like I was some dog waiting for a bone. And I requested one thing, huh, one bloody thing and you couldn't do that?” He seethed and you tried to speak to him, to tell him nobody asked you either, and nobody listened to you either when you went to your Samchon to tell him to call this wedding off.

“Is that how desperate you are? To jump the bones of the first man that your Aunt and Uncle introduced you to? All I wanted was to concentrate on making myself capable of taking over Kim Inc. and now I'm dumped with a pushover of a person whose only bloody job is to suck it up. Funny how even your own parents didn't put up with you either.”

The last words broke you. They broke you into pieces. Your parents died, and so what? Was this how you came across to people? You knew you were no good, but this? Tears welled up in your eyes and you took a stepp back before you ran away. Namjoon did not bother following you and you did not bother turning back. You were going to free him of all of this. That's it. You were done with everything and everyone in your life.

It was no use living like this, it was no use being such a nuisance for everyone like this. You slowed down to walk, your lungs started acting up and the breathlessness from running so much started catching up to you.

You took a seat at the nearest bus stop to catch your breath. The hustling of the city, people running around to reach their destinations, you watched the bustling life with tears in your eyes, refusing to stop. No one had ever thrown the harsh reality in your face so hard. How could you possibly stay with a person who hated you this bad and how could you possibly live with the fact that you married him despite knowing this?

Your Aunt and Uncle would never listen and they would wed you off tomorrow to Namjoon. You got up from your seat, wiping the tears which were flowing freely ever since Namjoon’s outburst. You walked aimlessly, going where the road took you. You heard a distant shouting of your name but ignored it. It definitely must be your brain playing with you, afterall it only had a few more breathing moments left before you left this world for good.

You stopped by an old building. The security of the building was nowhere to be seen and it didn't matter either. What was the security and the camera going to do to you when you were dead? The loud calling of your name kept ringing through your ears, but you did not stop. You kept climbing the floors in hope of reaching the end soon.

You pushed open the door of the terrace and the cold wind blew the hair away from your face. You took slow steps, your heart beating the fastest it ever had, so fast and loud that you could hear it. Tears started flowing more aggressively as your feet dragged you towards the railing and you climbed up.

Your life flashed in front of your eyes, as you stood at the end of the rail while Seoul continued to function just the way it was. It was sad that all you could remember was sad, hurtful memories, while only the happy ones which were vague by now and they were with your parents.

You let out an ear piercing scream, a scream for every time you had been wronged. For every time no one listened to you, a scream for every time you cried yourself to sleep and a scream for every time you were insulted as easily as breathing and finally a scream for every damn time you were called a pushover.

You took a deep breath, wiping your tears away. You took one step ahead and suddenly you were pulled down harshly by someone behind you. The man tried to hold you but you ended up landing on your knee.

“What the fuck were you doing?” The pale man, all red in face and panting heavily, still refused to let go of your hand as you tried to withdraw your hand away from him.

“Who are you?” You tried to move away from him but he refused to budge.

“How the fuck does that matter when you were just going to throw yourself off this building?” He roared and that broke the last dam of tears as you realised what you were about to do. You cried your heart out and the man held you in his arms, patting your back soothingly to reassure you that you were safe.

You calmed down after some time as slowly, the gravity of what exactly you were going to do slowly settled with you. The stranger helped you sit up and you leaned your back against the wall.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked you in a cautious tone, which felt more like he didn't want to agitate you further.

“I don't know where to start.” The tears slowly began flowing again and your nose already stuffed began acting up. The stranger started mumbling quick apologies before he passed his handkerchief to you.

You smiled weakly at the man, who looked so apologetic, almost looked like an older brother who felt like shit after he made his little sister cry. You smiled at the man, and he visibly relaxed.

“If you're okay with it, tell me why you were trying to fall to death?” He tried to probe gently and you smiled again at how carefully he was trying to tread here.

“It’s okay, you can ask why I was trying to commit suicide?’’

“You didn't answer it though.” You took a deep breath at his question. Maybe you could tell a stranger. It wasn't like you would see him again after today.

“I'm getting married tomorrow.” You started, waiting for his reaction but he didn't look surprised at least a bit.

“Okay, go ahead.”

“My fiance hates me. He doesn't want to get married to me. I tried calling off the wedding but nobody would listen to me.” You shuddered at the first meeting with Namjoon where he had very subtly threatened you to call off the wedding.

“Why would your parents get you married to a man that you were trying to call off the wedding with? Why don't they listen to you?”

“No, it's not my parents, they're no more. It's my Aunt and Uncle. They never listen to me, for them, all I am is a burden. I have no idea why they are hell bent on getting me married to Namjoon, but they just wouldn't listen.” You took a deep breath and leaned your head backwards. The man turned and sat facing towards you and took your hands gently in his, as the tears made an appearance again.

“So you don't want to get married to Namjoon?” His question caught you off guard since you never thought about it this way, you never thought if you wanted to get married in the first place.

“I dont know.” His eyes shot up at your response and you chuckled bitterly.

“What do you mean you dont know?”

“I was never asked in the first place, you know. My Uncle told me that I was meeting his friend’s son for lunch and that it was a potential marriage meeting. The guy never turned up, so I thought maybe it was a clear rejection but when I reached home, I was told that Namjoon had agreed to get married and that he had a liking for my kind.”

“Your kind?” The stranger looked thoroughly surprised.

“Yeah, my kind, the one who never speaks up, all I've ever done is just suck up everything that happened to me. In my own house, I'm like a bloody burden. All everybody ever does is order me around, insult me, let me know constantly what kind of a burden I am. That's my kind.” Your voice broke at the last sentence. It was actually heartbreaking to say that out loud for yourself, but sadly that was the truth.

“It's not like I haven't tried, But I just can't seem to speak up. It's been like this since I was a kid. I think all the hatred and that constant jabbing turns people this way.”

“Your Aunt and Uncle are pieces of shit. And so is this Namjoon.” You laugh at his words and he immediately raises his eyebrows.

“What's funny?”

“I don't know about my Aunt and Uncle, but Namjoon doesn't seem like shit.”

“How so?’’

“His anger always seemed out of the helplessness of the situation. I think he didn't have a say in this either. He was trying to escape this through me. Wish I could tell you I was in the same boat too.” The sun had already set and the darkness had already crept in the terrace of the building illuminated by only a faint light near you.

“Why were you trying to jump to death?”

“Namjoon and I had an argument. I really, really wanted to speak to him about what had happened, and he snapped–”

“Did he hurt you?” You heard the threat in his voice and immediately answered his question.

“Not physically, he just said some pretty nasty things and that cut the last straw for me. Nobody would listen to me either way and I didn't find it in me to walk down the aisle knowing that the man standing at the end of it hates me. So, to rid everyone of the trouble, I thought I'd get rid of myself.”

“Look–

“Y/n.”

“Yeah, look Y/n, this isn't a solution. Maybe Namjoon isn't ready to listen right now because he is angry, angry at himself, his folks and maybe the situation too, but he's projecting that on you instead. So instead of trying to jump away from your problems, jump right in. You're going to be married to Namjoon and from what you said, I don't see a way out of this, not for you and not for him. So rather get that dick to sit with you and talk it out.”

The man's advice made sense to you. You wanted to do that today but it took a turn in the worst way. Maybe you could talk to Namjoon when he has had the time to cool off.

“Thank you.” You smile at the man and he pats your head.

“Look, I don't know, seeing you and rushing behind you and saving you right before you jumped is a sign that maybe you aren't supposed to die. There might be a lot of things in store for you.”

“Good things, I hope.” You laugh and he laughs along with you. You feel much lighter now, after speaking your heart out to a stranger, and probably speaking the most you've ever done in front of any human.

“It's late, let me drop you home. But before that, here–” The man hands you his card and you accept it.

“Min Yoongi.” He extends a hand and you take it with a big smile.

“Min Y/n.” He smiles his gummy smile and pats your head once again. You secretly wish you had a big brother like him.

“Anytime, absolutely anytime the buildings start looking good enough to jump for you, you need to call me. Treat me as your older brother from now on.” He warns you.

“Will you come save me again?” Yoongi laughs at your question.

“I'll talk you out of it and maybe as a bonus, beat that Namjoon’s ass too if he is the reason why you go looking out for buildings to jump from.”

“Thank you, Oppa.”

“Anytime, Kid. Now let's go before your people start losing their shit.”

Yoongi leads you down the stairs and you walk a little ahead where he had parked his car before he sprinted off behind you. Yoongi tells you about his family, his wife Suhaa and his daughter Dae.

You watch Yoongi smile as he tells you about his wife and cute stories of Dae. You secretly wished that maybe one day, one day you would have the chance to tell your story to someone with the same loving smile.

You arrive in front of your home and Yoongi immediately steps down to open the door for you. You get down the car with a heavy heart, getting ready to face the hell waiting for you.

“Oppa, can I request you something?”

“Anything.”

“Will you attend my wedding tomorrow? Please bring Suhaa and Dae along too. It will be nice to see you there. I'll text you the details.” Yoongi smiles his full gummy smile at you before nodding his head at you.

“Of Course, Kid, I'll be there.”

You thank him for accepting your invitation and bow to him before going inside while Yoongi leaves only after you get inside. You make your way to the inside of the house and see everyone going about their own business. You thank god for not bringing you home to drama, you already had your share for today.

You wordlessly go to your room and shut the door. The events of the day are heavy enough to put you to sleep instantly.

___________________________________________________________

Yoongi barges in the summer house where Namjoon and the others were already drinking away in celebration of the last night before Namjoon would be a married man tomorrow, but instead of celebrating this night, Yoongi had other plans.

He wanted to punch the idiocy off Namjoon. How dare he make someone so miserable that they wanted to end their life? What would have happened if he hadn't seen you by accident, sobbing the hell out at a public place, and what would have happened if he hadn't felt something wasn't right and hadn't decided to follow you.

“Yah Hyung, you're late.” Jimin comes over to Yoongi to greet him, but Yoongi just pushes Jimin aside and walks straight up to the dick of his best friend/brother.

Jin and Namjoon look up to an angry looking Yoongi walking straight up to them, Namjoon comes forward to speak but is immediately greeted by a punch straight to his face.

“How could you do that bastard?” Yoongi roared and the rest five of them were stunned into silence, watching Yoongi beat the shit out of Namjoon.

“What the hell did I do, Hyung?” Namjoon asks, wiping the blood off his lips as Jin helps him off the floor.

“What did you say to Y/n?”

“Wait, how did she–?” Before Namjoon could finish the sentence Yoongi caught him by his collar while the rest of them struggled to separate the two.

“What the fuck did you say to her?” Namjoon tried to make sense of Yoongi's behaviour, but the man didn't give him a chance.

“We had an argument at the store earlier. And how the hell did she bitch about it to you?” Yoongi scoffed at the younger sentence.

“She didn't bitch, you dumb ass.”

“She told you, isn't it?”

“Yeah she did, but right after I pulled her off before she was fucking going to jump down from a building.” Everyone of the six men were stunned into silence.

“She did what?” Namjoon could not believe his ears, was it because of him that you were going to? He didn't even want to think about it.

Yoongi told the guys what happened and how he found you crying near a bus stop and how you were mindlessly walking around and how he had a hunch that something wasn't right and he had followed you, only to find that you were about to throw yourself off the building and most importantly, how you didn't even think twice before trying to jump.

“Thank you, Hyung, I don't know how I would have lived with myself if something had happened to her.” Namjoon breathed a sigh of relief knowing that you were safe now. He didn't hate you, he was just angry at you because you didn't try to call the wedding off, but now it looked like you weren't in the wrong either. But he was totally wrong for projecting that on you.

“Namjoon, I know you are not happy with the situation, but she isn't at fault either. She's being wronged at her own house, so the least you can do is just be friendly with her until both of you figure out the situation together.”

“I know, Hyung. I will apologise to her.” Yoongi patted the younger ones back, happy that Namjoon had come to his senses finally.

“But Hyung, how did you recognize Y/n?” Jungkook asked, handing over a glass of whiskey.

“Oh, he had put me and Yoongi on Y/n duty when he was supposed to meet her for the first time.” Jin chimed in and Yoongi nodded in raising the glass towards Namjoon.

“Weird, but okay. I guess that's what saved the day.” Jungkook nodded his head at Namjoon who just scowled at the youngest.

The guys continued drinking and the night rolled away in regrets, making fun, and being guilty.

___________________________________________________________

The household thrummed with a different type of excitement before you left for the venue. The stylists worked on you, perfecting every little detail of you. The never ending task finally came to an end after four hours and you were left to yourself for a few minutes before someone came to accompany you to the car.

You were pacing around the room when your Aunt entered the room. Taking a look at you, she smiled her perfectly non-distinguishable fake smile and you just looked away. You were out of here in a matter of a few hours. That's it.

“I hope you will be a good wife to Namjoon, Y/n-ah. You should be thankful he decided to marry you. Well, as for me and your Uncle, we are celebrating because we can finally have the house to ourselves.” You couldn't believe the words that came out of your Aunt's mouth. This woman had to be a new kind of evil to say such words to someone who is about to begin a new chapter of their life.

“Oh, by the way, come down, the car is ready. Let's get this over with.’’

You took one last look at the photo of your parents and opened the door. Your Aunt's words kept ringing in your head. Just how much hate did these people have for you? And what did you ever do to them to deserve so much hatred ? Were your Uncle and your father real brothers? How could someone treat their own niece so badly?

The wedding was something they wanted to get over with? Tears never came today for them, or the words that they had said to you just now. Instead, you frowned. You were in no way going to walk down the aisle with someone who had so much poison in their heart for you. You'd rather walk alone. You were walking alone all this while, weren't you? What was an aisle more?

You texted Yoongi to confirm if he and Suhaa were going to be present at the wedding, to which he promptly replied, stating that he was a few minutes away from the venue. You smiled at the text, thanking god, at least there was one person who meant well for you.

You reached the venue and made your way towards the room arranged for the bride. You kept your phone close incase Yoongi called. As soon as the door of the room closed, you made yourself comfortable on the couch, secretly wishing there wouldn't be any guests that you had to greet. You didn't know anyone either way and you had no friends here either.

You impatiently waited for Yoongi to arrive. You were ready to defy the norms for the first time, but nobody cared and so wouldn't you. You immediately video-called Yoongi and he picked up in an instant. There was sudden hushing on the other end, but you paid no heed to it. You had the chance now and you weren't letting it go.

“Y/n-ah, you look gorgeous.” Yoongi’s voice echoed through the room as soon as he answered.

“Oppa, did you and Suhaa arrive?” Yoongi laughed at your question and he turned the camera towards Suhaa who waved back at you.

“Oppa, can I ask you a favour?”

“Anything.”

“Could you come to the bride hall down the corridor on the first floor?” You fiddled with your dress as you waited patiently for him to arrive.

The door opened a few minutes later and Yoongi and a beautiful woman who you assumed was Suhaa, walked in. You smiled the widest as Suhaa stepped forward to hug you.

“Y/n-ie, you look so pretty, welcome to the family.” Suhaa hugged you and you smiled warmly at her.

“What favour did you want, Y/n-ah?” Yoongi interrupted your hug session and you both looked at him.

“Oppa, can you walk me down the aisle?” Yoongi choked on air the moment he heard your request.

“Y/n I–”

“My Aunt and Uncle are celebrating getting the house to themselves, I'm going to start a new phase in life and I'd rather start it with my older brother who saved my life by my side.”

Yoongi immediately pulled you in for a hug, Suhaa squealed and joined the hug while you thanked the stars for these new kind additions to your life.

“You know, if Namjoon hurts you or makes you cry, Yoongi will kick his ass.” Suhaa rubbed her hands in glee and Yoongi scowled at his wife.

“She's right, Y/n. But you’re late Suu, I already told her that.”

“You need to meet the rest of the girls, I'm sure you're going to have a lot of fun.” Your ears perked up at the mention of the other girls, not sure who these girls were.

“Who are the other girls?” Before Suhaa could answer, the door opened and the planner walked in and announced it was time for you to walk towards the hall. Namjoon had already arrived and was ready at the altar.

Your Uncle chose the exact same moment to walk in and without noticing the other presence in the room, he voiced his displeasure openly.

“Y/n-ah, let's get this over with. Come on.” He stopped as soon as he saw Yoongi and Suhaa, he immediately wore his fake smile and greeted him.

“Min Yoongi. It's a pleasure seeing you here-”

“I’ll walk Y/n-ie down the aisle, Mr. Min.” Yoongi extended his arm towards you and Suhaa immediately moved forward and clicked a quick picture, capturing a very confused Min Hyun Woo too.

“Thank you, Oppa.” Yoongi gently squeezed your arm while you took a deep breath at the fate waiting for you on the other side of the door, more importantly, the man waiting for you at the other side.

“Don't worry about anything further, alright?” Yoongi assured you as the door opened and the music began playing to welcome the bride.

Your Aunt and the rest of the family gave a very confused look, as Yoongi walked you down the aisle and so did Namjoon. Yoongi walks up to Namjoon and whispers something in his ear. Namjoon looks at him confused and Yoongi places your hand on Namjoon’s, giving him a brief hug.

The officiant begins the ceremony and soon enough you read your vows and exchange rings. The officiant declares you man and wife and Namjoon kisses your cheeks. He smiles a gentle smile at you and for a second, the lights and the music tune out in your head.

Did this man just smile at you?

Namjoon must have noticed this as he immediately grabs your hands gently and bow to the people. Namjoon holds your hand even while the last of the ceremony is being hosted by the officiant, and he declares you man and wife.

You freeze for a second when the ceremony is over, realising the major change that had just happened. You were married.

You had just become Kim Y/n.

Namjoon and you greet the other guests, seeking the blessings of the elders that were his father and your Aunt and Uncle. The occasion of your wedding threw many surprises at you— one, Namjoon smiled at you; second, he never let go of your hand as he guided you through the swarm of guests and introduced you to them.

Namjoon’s cordial behaviour kept surprising you every minute, not sure where the Namjoon from yesterday had gone. Soon, it was time for the reception dinner. While the guests left for the dinner hall, Namjoon held you back to meet his brothers/best friends who were very dear to him.

You smiled wide when you saw Yoongi and Suha coming towards you, followed by some more people who you assumed were Namjoon’s friends. The crowd hollered and cheered as they reached you both.

“Yoongi Hyung, you can't threaten me at my wedding.” Namjoon complained and you froze. Namjoon knew Yoongi? He was his hyung ? This new information created a storm in your head. The Said man walked to your side and patted your head and scowled at Namjoon while Suhaa giggled at your shocked reaction.

“Yoongi hyung threatened you?” Jungkook asked, trying to hold back his laughter.

“Yeah, I did. Y/n-ah is my sister now and I will break anyone's face who hurts her.” Namjoon sighs at hearing Yoongi’s threat again and you close your mouth from the shock of the scene happening in front of you. No wonder Namjoon had behaved well.

“Oppa, did you?” Yoongi didn't let you complete, he just squeezed your hand in reassurance.

“Don't worry about it, Y/n-ah. What matters is I'm going to be here for you and I’m going to keep this dumb ass of my brother in check.” Yoongi reassured you and that calmed you a bit but you still had so many questions unanswered. But this wasn't exactly the time to talk about it.

“Y/N, this is Jin, Taehyung, Jimin, Hobi, and Jungkook. These are my brothers and best friends, whatever you wanna call them. They're basically my everything.” Namjoon introduced everyone and you smiled politely at all of them while they greeted you.

The guys introduced their better halves one by one, Jin was married to Cha-Hee , while Hobi was married to Bong-Cha, Taehyung to Seungri and Jimin Mira, while Jungkook was dating Sarah. Everyone except Jungkook was married and Jin and Yoongi had kids.

The girls surrounded you quickly and introduced themselves, Except Suhaa the rest of them didn't know the in depth details of your marriage with Namjoon at least that's what you gathered from their talks, Not sure how much their partners had told them but you would wait for the right time for the conversation to pop up or worst case they already knew.

The men talked among themselves while the girls accompanied you to your room to do the regular touch up. You got a little brief about what the girls did, the general talk. You admired all of these women. They looked so confident and happy talking about themselves and their jobs and their kids.

Soon enough you were ushered out for the dinner and Namjoon led you again this time through the dinner, His hand firmly planted on your back.

____________________________________________________________

The entire car ride was silent, with Namjoon occasionally bouncing his leg while he looked out of the window and you did something similar. A lot of things were unsaid between you. His cordial and attentive behaviour today surprised you. Was he scared of you trying to harm yourself again? Did Yoongi tell him how you two met?

“We have one househelp in the house right now, two more of them will join from tomorrow.” Namjoon very randomly spoke and you wondered if this was his attempt to make a conversation. You nodded your head at him and he smiled. Again.

The car reached the building and before you could open the door, Namjoon asked you to wait and he got down and opened the door for you. Not only did he open the door for you but he also held out his hand for you to hold. Your mouth dropped open in surprise at his gesture. This day was literally filled with surprises. Just how much were you missing out on?

“Thank you.”

Namjoon nodded and placed a hand on your back and led you inside his private elevator at the penthouse. The door directly opened to his house and a middle aged woman stood at the door to greet you both.

“Y/n, this is Yeimei, Yeimei she's Y/n.” Namjoon introduced the woman and you assumed she must be the househelp that Namjoon was talking about.

“Namu, actually–”

Namu? This was new. Kim Namjoon had a nickname? It amused you to no end, but before you could react, Namjoon cut Yimei in the middle.

“Yeimei, we can talk later, you can go back to the mansion to get your stuff for now.” Namjoon instructed.

“But Namu–”

“Please.” The tone was enough for Yeimei to leave and you wondered what it was that she was trying to tell him. Putting a full stop to your curiosity, you decided to grab your bags and ask Namjoon about the living arrangement. But he beat you to it.

“You take the room upstairs and I'll take the one downstairs. My closet has already been set there. You can arrange the closet in your room your way or Yeimei will do it by default tommorow.”

“Okay, good night.” You pulled your bag with you upstairs while Namjoon retired to his room.

The corridor had two rooms. You opened the first and the nearest one.

As soon as you opened the door to your room, you knew exactly what Yeimei wanted to say. The room was totally empty. There was no bed, no wardrobe. Just another door which you assumed was the bathroom and a shelf in the corner with just pillows and a blanket. No mattress either. You quickly left your bag and went to open the second room to see if you had landed in the wrong room. But to your disappointment, it was empty too.

You sighed in irritation as you closed the door to your room. Tiredness had already begun seeping in and the four inch heels had already punched your spine and kicked your legs. You opened your bag to take the toiletries and your nightsuit out to prepare for a shower. The rest could be figured out after a warm bath.

“Holy fucking shit.” You cursed as the cold water touched your skin, This was the last way by which you wanted your day to end. Seeing no other option, you continued standing under the cold shower, while every drop of the cold water touching your skin reminded you of your hot tub back home.

You punched the hot water settings on the shower panel, why even put it there if it wouldn't function. But something clicked in your mind and you took a look at your surroundings. A bathroom that didn't have hot water, a bedroom that didn't have a bed or a wardrobe, or even a mattress in the least.

Was this the hell Namjoon was talking about? To deprive you of basic living necessities in a god forsaken penthouse? Your mind ran in circles as one part of your brain decided to doubt Namjoon, while the other one defended him. He wouldn't do such a thing.

Would he?

You decided to put your mind to rest. You could figure it out with Yeimei tomorrow. Worst case scenario, you would buy the bed and wardrobe tomorrow and Namjoon could straight go to hell. For now, you needed to rest. The floor screamed a warning in your face, cold and hard.

You decided to occupy the sofa in the living room tonight.

You threw the blanket and the pillow on the sofa and jumped right in, only to be disappointed in a matter of a few seconds. It was hard. Softer than the floor but a hundred times harder than a mattress. Waking Namjoon wasn't an option you would consider even in death, forget when you were uncomfortable.

You put the three pillows, one under your head and two by your sides and tried to sleep, but no matter how hard you tried, sleep ended up showing a middle finger. Maybe it was the new place or the hard ass sofa, but it didn't matter. The end result was that you couldn't sleep.

You groaned in frustration and let out a muffled scream in your pillow, nothing was helping. After what seemed like a thousand years, you slowly started feeling drowsy. You moved a little to the right and before you could realise you were off balance, you let out a scream as soon as your ass landed on the floor and immediately a sound of something falling and a curse followed.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n.” Namjoon stood there rooted to the floor with a vase in hand and a bottle right on the floor in front of him.

You sat up and threw the pillow and the blanket on the sofa and got up. Just how many times were you allowed to embarrass yourself in front of this man. Majority of the time Namjoon was in front of you, you royally made friends with the floor.

“What the fuck are you doing here? And why aren't you sleeping in your room?” Namjoon looked at you like you were a crazy person let loose,eEither this man was a great actor or he was clueless as fuck.

“There is nothing to sleep in there.” You stated plainly as you kept rearranging the pillows and the blankets to your liking.

“What do you mean there is nothing to sleep in there?”

“There is no bed, no mattress or even hot water in that room.” Namjoon choked on air and immediately made a beeline towards the stairs and went up the stairs in a flash.

You huffed, ss if you would lie and get your ass on fire. No, thank you.

A few moments later Namjoon rushed back down and you sat up straight. He looked confused and somewhat irritated. You cowered at the similar sight that his face was beginning to show and you just prayed you weren't going to be the centre of it.

“I am so sorry, Y/n. I don't know how the hell this happened.” Namjoon apologised and you felt the world literally shifting on its axis. Was this man apologising? Where the hell did Namjoon from yesterday go?

“It's okay, I guess.”

“Take those pillows and the blankets and come inside.”

“You won’t fit on the couch here.” Namjoon burst out laughing at your sentence, and you double checked if you were seeing things. Going by his reactions since the first time you guys had met, the guy did not demonstrate any normal emotions and suddenly he was apologising, behaving cordially and even laughing? There was only one explanation that made sense to you, Yoongi.

Exactly how dangerous was Yoongi?

“Just come inside already.” Namjoon picked up the blanket and the pillows and you followed behind. Namjoon’s room was definitely much better, much grander than the room that was upstairs. The master bedroom.

“Wait here.” Namjoon threw the pillows on the bed and handed the blanket over to you. You stood there with the blanket in your hand and wondered what was up with him. Namjooon returned with pillows enough to build a fort and your eyes widened in shock. Were you supposed to place these pillows on the floor and sleep on them or was he going to sleep on them?

“Give me a minute.” Namjoon placed a line of pillows exactly in the middle and layered the pillows one on another. You were confused. Why was this man making a whole barricade on the bed?

“What is this?” Namjoon laughed at your confused expression and took your blanket and threw it on the left side as he scooted over to the right side.

“That's your side, and this is my side. Two rules. No throwing hands and no crossing the barricade.” Namjoon explained the rules and you looked twice at him, confused whether he was the same person. This man was more complex than a spacecraft and had a hundred shades to him.

“Okay.”

“Good. Now come on over here. Don't just stand there.” Namjoon quickly switched the lights off without waiting for you to get on the bed and you cursed at your luck.

Couldn't this man wait for two more seconds?

Your luck definitely hated you. You tripped over the blanket and landed on your ass, again! A sound of pain left your mouth before you could realise and the lights were switched on once again. Namjoon sat up with his mouth shaped in an ‘o’ and you groaned and got up cursing every star and step that led to your fall.

“Are you generally clumsy or is this a special feature that's enabled whenever I am around?” You rolled your eyes at his comment and quickly settled in. Namjoon turned to your side and contemplated something for a second but spoke it nevertheless.

“Next time you roll your eyes at me, you can go back to sleep on the floor or the couch. Your choice.” The lights were switched off and you stared at the ceiling. This was strange. You weren't used to sleeping next to someone and suddenly someone breathing so close near you gave you the jitters. Namjoon must have been facing the same problem as well, because the man had tossed and turned nearly ten times in the span of a few minutes.

“Sorry. Not used to sleeping next to someone.” You sighed at his apology. The barricade was engineered to hide your faces and you strangely felt thankful for that.

“Same.” You muttered quietly and you heard another shuffle followed by a nervous clearing of his throat. You turned to your side, facing Namjoon and he cleared his throat again. Was he trying to say something?

“Tossing and turning isn't the only thing I need to apologise for.”

You were stunned to say the least. This conversation was still a little far in your mind. You had no idea when you were going to bring up this conversation. There were a lot of empty gaps in there and you needed to fill those in. Taking your silence as a go ahead, Namjoon continued.

“Look, I'm sorry I was a dick, and didn't listen to you, but Yoongi hyung punched some sense into me. I was angry at everything and you happened to be the centre of it. But I should have talked to you about it when you had come to the Country Club that day.”

Your ears perked up at the mention of the Country Club. Had he been there? You were about to ask him but he beat you to it.

“I was there at the Country Club, I was sitting at the bar and Yoongi hyung and Jin hyung watched you for me. And that's how Yoongi hyung recognized you.” You were shocked to say the least. How much were you missing out on?

“Was a dick move, I know. Sorry. But just know Yoongi Hyung will break my face if I hurt you.” Thrice in three minutes? That was a record.

“Can I be honest?”

“Hmm.” That was all you could manage as the truth came to light one by one. No you weren't mad. If Yoongi had not seen you that day, he wouldn't have recognized you, and by now, you'd probably have bid goodbye to the world. You were thankful for that. And besides, he had promised you.

He was here for you now. That's all that mattered.

“Is it weird that I don't know what to expect from this marriage? Or if I don't know if I want to keep this marriage alive?” You got him on this point, you didn't know either. You and Namjoon met under weird circumstances, were in a similar situation, similar predicament. But was that enough to stay with each other for the rest of your lives?

“I don't know either.” Namjoon heaved a sigh of relief next to you and you smiled. First thing that you both had in common.

“We don't know where this is going to take us, but yes, I want to promise you one thing until this gets sorted out. I'll keep myself in check and let's try to be civil, okay?”

“I'll stay out of your way.”

“That's not what I meant. Look, we don't have to avoid each other. If we are going to be staying in a house, then the least we could do is be friends.” You agreed somewhat to his suggestion, but you weren't exactly sure what kind of friend Namjoon would be. But again, what did you have to lose?

“Okay.” You let out the breath you didn’t realise you were holding and Namjoon did the same, at Least that's what you thought.

“And Y/n, I would never have done what I did that day if I knew it would impact you in such a way. I don't know if I could have lived with myself if something happened to you. I am sorry. Next time I'm going overboard, which I won't but even if you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable, slap me.” Namjoon’s last words left you dumbfounded, did he just ask you to slap him if he was being rude?

“What?”

“You heard me.” Namjoon stated firmly and you nodded your head in the dark. You were eternally thankful for the lights to be off.

“Okay, but I can't slap you.”

“You're too good for your own good.”

“That’s–”

“Okay, that's enough talk for one night. Good night Y/n.”

“Goodnight.” You turned to the opposite side and a small smile graced your face.

Namjoon wasn't a bad person. Maybe until you figured things out, life with Namjoon could be bearable.

____________________________________________________________

You woke up to the sounds of a vacuum in the house. Confused, you sat up and looked around, baffled at the new surroundings. You saw the ring on your finger and realised where you were.

The sound of the vacuum stopped and you rubbed your eyes. Yeimei’s face appeared at the door and a knock followed. She walked in the room cautiously, but you smiled at her and she visibly relaxed.

“Good Morning, Ajumoni.” Yeimei smiled a delightful smile at your reference of the term ‘ajumoni’ and you rubbed your hands over your face. Yeimei began tidying up Namjoons side and you moved to your room to fetch your toiletries to freshen up. There was no way that you would be able to have another cold shower and stay alive.

The delicious smell of doenjang jjigae greeted your nostrils as you stepped down in the hall.

“Come have a seat, Bu-in.” Yeimei placed a steaming hot bowl of stew in front of you, and your stomach immediately growled in appreciation. Yeimei laughed at your reaction, and you smiled sheepishly.

“Eat up.” She placed the spoon beside your bowl and you sheepishly dug in.

“You can call me Y/n, Ajumoni.”

“Are you sure?’’

“Absolutely.” Yeimei nodded and got back to her cleaning tasks again. You finished the stew and the side dishes and moved back to your room upstairs to curb the hurricane that you had bought over yesterday while you looked for clothes to change in.

"I'll do it." Yeimei stood at the door with her dusting pin and a mop. You debated whether to ask her why these rooms were kept empty but decided to take a chance.

"Why are these rooms empty? Like even guest rooms have beds right?" Yeimei put down her dusting tools and began folding clothes along with you. You looked at her to see any signs of not answering the question but all she had on her face was a blank look.

"Sajang-nim ordered us to do so. The beds and the wardrobes were taken out yesterday."

"That’s-"

"Very strange, I know. But things between Namu and Sajang-nim have always been strange. It just got worse after Chaeyeong died."

"Chaeyeong?" You had never heard this name before.

"Namu’s mother. I came here to Seoul as a part of her staff when she got married. But we go way back. We have been together since we were little girls. My mother worked for her mother and since we lived there together, we became good friends despite the class difference." Yeimei smiled a small smile and shut your bag. You gaped at the speed of the woman. She had already arranged your clothes and stuff while she was talking.

There were a lot of things that you still had to understand, a lot of things that you still had to know. But this was a start. Things would definitely go smoother if you know where to draw the line.

From what you understood, Namjoon's father was a touchy topic and you needed to steer clear of that in front of Namjoon until he spoke about it to you.

"You will understand things better, don't worry about it, just give it time. You both need time to adjust to this." Yeimei patted your back lightly and you nodded.

Time was exactly what you needed.

The doorbell rang and Yeimei got up quickly to attend to the door. You pulled the bags to the corner and placed them neatly beside the shelf. There was a very high probability that you would be the one who would trip over these.

"Y/n, your friends are here."

"My friends? As in mine?" You did a double check. Since when did you have friends? You walked down the hall when the loud voices fell on your ears and you recognised one immediately. Suhaa.

Seungri, Mira, Sarah, Cha-Hee, Suhaa, and Bong-Cha. The 'girl gang' as Suhaa had introduced them in your wedding,were here. You greeted them with a smile on your face.

"Hey there bride." Cha-Hee (Jin's wife) quickly got up from the couch to hug you last and somehow the scene in front of you felt nice.

"How are you all doing?" The girls began to speak at once, leaving you struggling to understand what even one of them said.

The chatter died down as soon as Yeimei brought in the tea and snacks and you thanked her. She served the tea and smiled at you and the rest of them, and made her way upstairs.

"So tell us, where are you guys going for your honeymoon?" You choked on your tea as soon as you heard the word 'honeymoon'. You were blank, absolutely blank.

"Actually, Joon's a little busy, so he hasn't been planning, I guess." Suhaa immediately diverted the conversation and you had never been more thankful.

"Me and Jimin left the same day you know, we woke up the next day in Hawaii."

"Oh please Mira, everyone knew at the reception how eager you horn dogs were to get away." Seungri teased Mira who just scowled at her, making everyone else laugh.

"Says the one who has the biggest record of doing the wildest things at the wildest places."

"Hey! " You laughed hard watching Seungri and Mira's interaction. You had actually never known how it felt to have friends who were utter chaos and felt so wholesome to have.

"Get used to this craziness Y/n-ie, you're a part of it now."

"Thank you. I know all of you are busy, so thank you for taking time out to come see me." You thanked all of them but they just looked at you and shrugged their shoulders.

"Nonsense, Y/n-ie, you're a part of us now. We will always have time for you now." Suhaa linked her arm with yours and smiled the biggest smile.

The girls bickered on and about everything— their homes, their jobs, you participated in some of their conversations, and you admired these intelligent women. They were married to powerful men, but that only added to their identities, their husbands didn't become their entire identity.

Cha-Hee ran her own business for textile, Suhaa had her chain of hotels that she took over from her father. Seungri had her own chain of restaurants and Bong-Cha owned a dance school while Sarah was launching her own fashion line and Mira was big on her real estate business.

You unknowingly had been added to this group of such accomplished women, you were still nowhere on the level that they were and you still didn't have any idea what you were going to do with your life, If only you could do something with your life too. You had too many things to figure out. You had a lot of time on your hands now that you were breathing freely. Your Uncle and Aunt always shot down your wishes of working, even in your own company.

With the girls around you never noticed how noon came by and soon the girls left to go about their own days, while you returned back to the only thing you had to do. Spend time on your phone.

___________________________________________________________

Namjoon got up earlier than you and decided to leave for work before you woke up. Yesterday's conversation weighed heavily on his mind. He had a lot of questions in his mind but at the end of the day, he was glad you two were on the same page.

Namjoon walked down to Yeimei making breakfast for him, and he greeted the older woman. She smiled her usual warm smile which brightened up most of his days. Yeimei was like a mother to him, she had been here when his mother was married off to the Kim household and she was there when he was born. Yeimei was the only person who understood him when his mother died. His own father had gone back to work after a week, not even trying to console his own son.

His mother was always the bridge between his father and him. His father always had such unrealistic expectations from him. Namjoon was the smartest student. He excelled at everything he did, never took his privileges lightly, made use of them perfectly to gain the best access to everything and make himself capable. But somehow it was never enough for his father. He was useless, that's what his father kept telling him.

His mother was a very sweet and a very talented artist, who instilled the love for arts in him and he was more than thankful for it. His father never liked his mother's career choice, always putting it under the bar, saying it isn't what the Kim's daughter-in-law was supposed to do. His mother rebelled for her passion and in the end, his father stopped bothering her and she used it to her advantage.

He liked the fact that his mother had always taken her passion seriously and fought for it. He knew his mother to be a strong woman— a woman who fought for what she believed and fought for what she loved. He grew up watching a strong woman, hence he had a hell lot of problems with the way his father described you.

Namjoon's mother fought tooth and nail with her husband when it came to him not celebrating such an amazing son, for always putting him down. She believed in him entirely and she made sure he knew it too. Namjoon lost his mother when he was fifteen and the only bridge between him and his father was broken forever.

Yeimei took up the responsibility of Namjoon after his mothers death. She had become his only support in the house. She never went back to her hometown after his mothers death and continued to work at the Kim Mansion. She was just like a mother to him.

“Good Morning, Namu.” Yeimei smiled at him and he shot her his full dimple smile. It was a good start to the day. She served him his favourite and his face broke out into another smile. Yeimei somehow always knew what he wanted to eat.

“What happened to the rooms upstairs?”

“Sajang-nim got them removed.” Namjoon paused eating at the mention of his father. He should have known. It would be his father. What was this man planning?

Namjoon wasn't a kid that he didn't know that this was done by his father to make sure they sleep in the same bed and no other option would be available since Namjoon had clearly voiced out his displeasure on multiple occasions.

But why would he need to do something of this sort was still unclear to him. The old man was upto some funny business again and he would definitely find out.

“Sajangnim has put two other maids here. They will arrive here in the evening.” Namjoon scoffed at the mention. He had put maids here? If he knew his father even a little, then those were spies to know the in-and-outs of his house and his and yours relationship.

“Yeimei, can you do something for me?”

“Should I refuse them?” Namjoon smirked at her response, That's exactly what he wanted to say.

“Tell Appa to talk to me if he has any problems.” Namjoon finished his breakfast and got up, ready to leave. He drove to his office, trying to figure out what his father was upto.

Something was definitely up.

The day continued normally for Namjoon until he found a vendor that he had blacklisted and to top it off, the vendor was approved by his father. He hated when his father double crossed him under the pretext of 'you know nothing and need to learn to tame the wolves'. Namjoon dialled his father on the intercom, waiting for him to receive the call. He picked up a few rings later.

“Appa, I need to talk to you.” Namjoon didn't wait for his father to respond, but he was shocked to hear his father speaking on the other end. Did he pick it up by mistake? But the next words caught his attention.

‘’Hyunwoo, you need to chill. Lets execute this properly. I am sure it can be easily done. Two years is enough time for them to get acquainted as husband and wife. If they have a kid, then consider the job done.” Namjoon strained his ears to the receiver as soon as the words 'husband and wife' reached his ears.

Another irritated voice reached his ears which he assumed must be your Uncle. Namjoon wondered if they were arguing.

“Jun-Seon-ah, we have to make sure that Y/n signs off the company to her husband. This is the only way we can all benefit from this deal. The only reason I got Y/n married to Namjoon was so that when she's twenty seven, she can sign off the company over to Namjoon and we can merge Digitron Systems and Kim Inc. and I and Joo-Won could be on the board for the new entity.”

Namjoon’s blood turned cold at the information. What exactly were these people upto?

“Don't worry, Hyunwoo-ah. That brat of mine will do as I say if he wants to be the CEO of this company. Everything will be according to the plan. Those two have two years. It is enough for Y/n to trust Namjoon and give her company to him when the time comes.” His father's voice burned holes in his heart.

Was this man so cruel that he had the heart to conspire against someone like that? No wonder he wanted him to marry Y/n, hook or by crook. Was this what he meant when he said he was giving him the legacy of Digitron Systems?

“If only my brother hadn't made such provisions in that damn will. When did he have the time to do that? You said Namjoon didn't want to marry that doormat. Would he still stay married to her after the signing?”

“The way he has been acting since the past few days, I'm not sure. Good if he stays married to her. If not, then it's okay too. We would have already had what we wanted from Y/n.Who cares if he throws her out after that.”

“I'm not taking that woman back.”

“Don't then.”

“I still have to figure out where those papers of the mansion are. Once I have it, she can die for all I care.”

“Relax Hyunwoo, we have two years for the result. And dont worry I've made provisions for them to live with each other. Things will go our way.” Namjoon slammed the intercom receiver on the table, His head was already spinning with all the information. How long had these people been planning to do all this? Was he a pawn in all of this?

What kind of people were they? They were ready to destroy someone's life like a house of cards? Was doing bad things so easy? Namjoon definitely didn't want any part of this. Namjoon was a dick to you, but he had never thought of conspiring against you or to ruin your life. Most of his anger was his projection of him being a coward.

There was one thing for sure, Namjoon had lost all the respect for his father. What kind of a man did he have for a father. Namjoon shut his laptop and reached for his phone. He had to get home now, and more importantly, he had to let you know what kind of demons you had for relatives.

As soon as Namjoon left his cabin, his father and Hyunwoo came out of his fathers cabin too and it took every ounce of strength to not charge at the two of them, even his father. He had a strong urge to break Hyunwoo’s face into two. No wonder they had raised Y/n like this. Poor girl never knew what it must have felt to revolt against these people.

“Namjoon-ah, how are you doing?” Namjoons face blackened at your Uncle's voice and he just nodded his head and moved past the two older men.

He was definitely going to tell you the truth, even if it meant you would hate him for it.

____________________________________________________________

You finished lunch and helped Yeimei clean the kitchen when Namjoon barged in the house, startling both of you.

“Y/n, I need to talk to you. Room. Now.” Your feet stayed rooted to the floor. You had never seen him so mad. You definitely had seen him mad but this was another level of mad. YeiMmmei nudged you gently and you understood it was her way of telling you to go.

“Don't worry, he won't hurt you.” Yeimei tried to reassure you.

You nodded and made your way to Namjoon's bedroom. He was already pacing around the room like a whirlwind and you took a step back. What exactly did you do now?

“Come here, Y/n.”

“Is anything wrong?” The last words came out as a squeak and Namjoon paused for a second. He gave you an apologetic look and pulled the chair from the table to take a seat in front of you.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully alright?” His words confused you even further. Was he divorcing you? Did something happen?

“Yeah.” You barely managed a response, a thousand questions plaguing your mind.

Namjoon narrated the entire incident where he heard his father and your Uncle talking, and anger coursed through your veins. What had you ever done to those people? You behaved the way they wanted, did what they said, you had even gone and married a stranger because they said so.

A tear slipped as Namjoon kept speaking, your mind turned numb. You knew they hated you, but what they didn't know was they hated you enough to ruin your life? A conspiracy so big? They wanted to strip you of what was yours. You had never thought of taking over the company, not even once.

Namjoon took your hands in his and looked at you desperately, trying to convey his emotions.

“Y/n, I want you to know that I play no part in this. I swear on my mother.” You patted his hand and gave a small, watery smile, Why would he come and tell you this if he had a part in it?

You wiped your tears hastily. There was no room for any argument. You knew exactly what you needed to do. You had enough of these demons. You were definitely going to take back what was yours. No matter how long it took, you would take it back and Digitron Systems would be in the hands of a rightful Min again.

“What do you want to do now?” Namjoons question brought you back to reality and you looked at him with eyes full of determination.

“What do you think I should do?”

“For what they are planning, I would say destroy them. My father will automatically lose it when the Mins are down. They are nothing without the Digitron Systems.” Namjoon looked you dead in the eye and you smiled. You knew exactly who you could ask for help.

“Then, let's do that.” Namjoon smirked at your reaction.

“This is going to be a long journey, Y/N, and it's definitely not easy. And the only way to solve this is if you take over Digitron Systems. As you rightfully should have.”

“Will you help me?” You hoped he would say yes. You had no idea what you were supposed to do if Namjoon didn't want a part in your mess.

“I thought you'd never ask.”

[saintobio]

sincerely yours | side story

episode. 01

cast. sera iwasaki x ryomen sukuna

tags/warnings. classism, prostitution, usage of alcohol, smoking

notes. this is a oneshot. timeline of this spinoff is after the events in sincerely not and before sincerely yours. 2.8k word count.

After a year of finding a stable job, not one big company considered hiring Sera as a full-time employee. Most of them would sugarcoat and claim that she was not fit for the job because they required someone with a positive public image, while the rest would downright tell her that she couldn’t get the role because they weren’t stupid enough to hire someone who could taint the company’s reputation. In the first place, hiring Sera might put these companies in a bad light for any future business partnerships with the Creston Financial Group. No one was willing to take the risk of hiring the girl who had the infamy of being the mistress in a cheating scandal and it would be a complete lie if Sera didn’t expect the series of rejections that her job applications would receive because of it.

But being turned down by every company she applied to wasn’t the most depressing part, it was the fact that she had to wake up each day with the never-ending anxiety rooting from the fact that she still had no source of income to provide for her family.

Life had always been tough for average people like her, but it was evidently far more cruel this time around. Although her dad was sent to a rehabilitation center, they had to move out from their previous comfortable home and back into the rundown apartment in the poorer neighborhood of the city. Sera was forced to live the stagnant life of the unprivileged who could only ever dream of experiencing a fancier life in an alternate universe. One of the things she did learn from this literally life-changing experience was that she should always value her family and their dedication in staying by her side through highs and lows. So even though she had to eventually start working with part time jobs in retail, Sera strived for Nari to continue her studies in a public school, Jiro insisted on being a working college student to help his siblings, while their mother started helping their aunt in a local market in exchange for a minimum wage pay. Her family worked together to rebuild themselves and Sera had then learned to appreciate the little things that she once took for granted.

Unfortunately, working as a checkout assistant in supermarkets could only provide enough for a family of four. Sera continued to find a better-paying job every night, searching through job listings with high hopes until she was able to finally land a job that offered nearly as much as the amount she used to earn from the Gojou Group. According to the job description, she had to work as a waitress in a bar that required night shifts and she would have the chance to receive exorbitant cash incentives depending on her performance.

When someone was in desperate need, it was normal to be easily blinded by false advertisements. Sera knew that she should have verified what ‘performance’ meant in their vocabulary prior to accepting the job because it completely caught her off guard when she had to wear a skimpy outfit at a bar full of middle-aged men who were clearly there for something more. The uneasiness she felt on her first day of job was reasonable, but her boss was nothing more than a deceitful cunt who told her that she had no right to complain when she was a known homewrecker all over Japan, anyway.

Did Sera deserve this?

Did she deserve being pushed out of her will inside the VIP room to be one of the girls that could offer a little more than entertainment?

Did she deserve to be objectified and sexually harassed by a stranger just because she was once in a position where she regrettably clung to a married man?

“Ain’t this chick a new face ‘round here? Got nice tits, too.” A middle-aged man eyed her up and down while placing his arms around the girls that shamelessly sat on his lap on the black leather couch. The smell of musk, alcohol, and smoke greeted Sera’s nose as she stood on one corner, tugging the hem of her skirt down. She didn’t manage to escape the man’s gaze—one that looked like he was undressing her with his eyes as he took a drag from his cigarette. “Oi, are you just gonna stand there?”

She would rather get cramps from standing all night in her high heels than to ever sit on that perverted man’s lap, but when the said man gestured his chin over to the other presence across the table, Sera didn’t expect to see a better-looking guy who was probably of the same age as her. He had brushed-up strawberry hair and what seemed like tribal tattoos on his nape extending to his shoulders, and possibly all over his arms and chest. The guy barely glanced at Sera, face undeniably handsome but extremely bored as he leaned his back on the couch alone without a company of women surrounding him.

Was Sera supposed to be his girl for the night? The answer was as clear as day when the middle-aged man smirked and claimed her instead. “Come right here, darlin’. I think I’m gonna have fun with you tonight.”

How revolting. But before Sera could decide on a response, the younger guy placed his glass of whiskey atop the table and cleared his throat. “She’s mine. I’ll put in a good price for her.”

Her feet were stuck on the carpeted floors, surprised with how she was claimed like an object with no other value but to bring pleasure. It was truly disappointing to see how handsome the guy was knowing that he might have ‘purchased’ girls in exchange for sex before. And while that may or may not be the case, the older man erupted in a guffaw as though it was his first time to see the younger guy proactively claiming some random girl. “Ha-ha! Sukuna, you’ve got good taste. She’s all yours, then.”

Sera learned three things that night based on their conversations; 1) Sukuna and Mr. Watanabe were in that bar to talk about business because the latter was apparently the former’s client 2) Sukuna was the founder of a startup app and web development business whose key clients were Uniqlo and S.Ride 3) Sukuna was a moderate drinker who was only there to satisfy Mr. Watanabe’s chosen meetup place.

Among all the things she learned, Sera also noticed how Sukuna never once touched an inch of her skin despite paying a heck load of cash to have her for the night. It was hard to trust strangers, let alone rich businessmen like him because she had already learned her lesson with Satoru, but all Sukuna did throughout his business talk with Mr. Watanabe was to describe the products and services his company could offer. He simply let her sit next to him and listen to their conversation without being pressured to do extra service like the rest of the other girls were doing to the older man.

“We can deliver a platform specific to the vision you have,” he spoke to the man in a deep, yet smooth-sounding voice that made him twice as attractive, “I’ll have the best team of developers, designers, and strategists to ensure the efficiency and we’ll communicate with you throughout the process so we can provide seamless engagement.”

His client took a drag from his expensive cigar and gave Sukuna an approving nod. “Very well, I expect nothing but the best from you.”

It took another hour for their meeting to end successfully as Sukuna managed to convince Mr. Watanabe who, in return, praised him for having good judgment not just with his chosen field, but also with his choices when it came to women. Sera wasn’t sure if that was a compliment she could willingly take because she was sold off to prostitution without her knowledge and she wasn’t keen to sleep with Sukuna just because he revealed himself as a rich businessman. The sense of fear overpowered her, afraid of the non-consensual acts that he might do to compensate for the money he had spent just to take her home. Men were pigs no matter the social status—it just so happened that wealthy men could use money as a form of bribery to take advantage of women like her.

Frankly, Sera could simply run away and refuse to do anything further than what was clearly stated in her job offer. It was her first night and surely, there shouldn’t be much harm if she decided to quit because she was deliberately fooled into thinking that she was only going to serve food and beverage, not her body and her dignity. Sukuna was her customer and she ought to follow him to his car for the sole reason of fulfilling the duties she was paid for, but the thought of escaping the man was very tempting if only she wouldn’t put herself in danger for doing so. She didn’t know what kind of man she was really dealing with and she was scared for her life. Not that she was judging him by his appearance, but how could she see good in him when he willingly bought a woman like he was paying for drinks?

What if he drugged her, raped her, and physically abused her?

What if he forced her to do sexual acts that she wasn’t comfortable doing?

With all these scary thoughts in mind, Sera jumped in surprise when Sukuna turned around after stopping in front of a classic red Ferrari. “I didn’t catch your name.”

She couldn’t find any hint of intoxication in his eyes, but it didn’t stop her from acting wary as she stood a safe distance away from him. “You don’t have to know my name. You’re not gonna see me again after tonight.”

“You don’t know that,” he replied, casually smiling and noticing how she was fidgeting underneath her skimpy dress. It only took him a minute to rid himself of his blazer that he later wrapped around her body to cover her exposed skin. “Tell me your address and I’ll drive you home.”

Confusion bathed her eyes as she watched him open the door to the passenger seat. “Wh-What do you mean?”

He meant he would drive her home after she was done pleasuring him, right? She could already imagine him treating her like a whore in bed and calling her all the nasty names to wound her womanly pride. Oddly enough, as Sera did get inside the car, Sukuna simply revved his engine and waited for her to say her address. “I’ll drop you off. I don’t have time for detours.”

“I don’t get it,” Sera raised her voice, defensively. “You paid for me because you want me to sleep with you, right? Don’t fool me with this pretentious act of chivalry—”

“I’m not fooling around,” he stated as he began driving out of the parking lot, “You should be thanking me instead. Did you even know what kind of job you were getting into? You were forcing yourself in there.”

For a moment, her body felt like a solid block of ice, frozen from the words that rolled off his tongue. “That’s none of your business. I wasn’t planning on keeping this stupid job, anyway.”

Sukuna let out a low hum. “Good for you, then.”

“So, what’s your deal?” she questioned, “You mean you want nothing to do with me after paying that much money?” Sera was clearly repeating her questions, only because she couldn’t wrap it around her head that Sukuna had no other ulterior motives after his display of possessiveness at the bar earlier.

“Sera,” his voice dropped an octave as he uttered her name, “not all people would recognize you, but for those who do read the news, it’s easy to conclude that you took that job as a last resort because you couldn’t get any decent ones.”

A sudden wave of conflicting emotions hit Sera like a tsunami. It didn’t occur to her that Sukuna actually recognized her all along and had only pretended not to. “Then, I guess you’re one of those people who’d judge me for being Satoru Gojou’s infamous mistress?”

He merely scoffed at her assumption. “I don’t give a shit about that man’s infidelity. He’s just a typical filthy rich person with narcissistic problems. What I’m curious about is how far you’ve suffered to the point where you’re blindly taking jobs that’d lead to prostitution.”

Perhaps it was an instinctive reaction for Sera to keep her guard down after realizing that Sukuna may genuinely be a good person underneath his tough exterior and manly bravado. She also didn’t miss the fact that he spoke about Satoru like he wasn’t a rich person himself. How did this guy just earn her curiosity without even trying? Before she knew it, she was opening up to him. “I have to provide for my mom and my siblings. We’re just a low income family, you know? And I want us to live a comfortable life as much as possible, but things have become even more difficult now that I couldn’t even apply for the jobs I actually want.”

Instead of questioning her choice of being a mistress that resulted into her current hardship, Sukuna was more intrigued about her personal life. “You and I were on the same boat,” he revealed as the car took a halt when the traffic light turned red, “I used to work two jobs just to make sure my brother gets to stay in a decent school. After that, I just got lucky, I guess.”

Ah, he comes from new money. There was an expected pang in Sera’s heart as she recalled Naoya who was very vocal about his distaste towards the nouveau riche. The same manipulative man who unsparingly betrayed her, mocked her, and destroyed her image in front of a laughing audience. He never would’ve genuinely related to her situation the way Sukuna did because Naoya never experienced what it was like to be poor. “So, your company… you built it yourself?”

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and nodded. “Yeah, with a little bit of help. I wasn’t born an heir to a conglomerate like Toji Zen’in or Satoru Gojou. I started from scratch and earned my way up.”

“That’s inspiring, though.” She looked out of the window and adored the vibrant city lights. “You deserve every bit of your success.” And for the kindness he has shown to her, Sera was grateful. In fact, she was comfortable enough to tell him her address knowing that he wouldn’t judge her for living in a poor neighborhood.

“You know what it feels like to rely on convenience store ramen one morning and the next, you’re offered lavish meals from five-star restaurants?” he said with a sad smile plastered on his otherwise strong features, “Even if I earned enough money to be considered rich, I still don’t know what it’s really like to be wealthy. There’s a stark difference between those two, and those old money punks know so well how to exclude upstarts like me. That’s why I hate them.”

Sera found herself agreeing to his words after imagining what it was like to be in his shoes. He, too, started from the same social class as her so it was easier for her to understand the situation from his lens. “All they care about is their status and they’re threatened whenever someone else succeeds better than them.”

Sukuna glanced at her and quickly averted his eyes after meeting her gaze. “It’s not too late for you to succeed, too. You can quit jumping from one job to another starting today.”

“It’s not that easy,” she countered, “I don’t have many options.”

“Not when you have a willing person who’ll help you,” he offered along with a handsome grin, “I’m in need of a secretary. I can’t match the salary you had from the Gojou Group, but I pay my employees decently.”

Her heart skipped a beat. After having been fooled by the false experience of a Cinderella story, Sera was now wary that this could end up like the mess she has had with Satoru and his wife. Or even Naoya. She had grown tired of being the bad person in someone else’s love story when it would only lead to her downfall. Her taste of karma was enough to wake her up from the reality that her life was far from a fairytale.

But could she really miss this one in a million chance of starting all over again?

“Please tell me in advance if you’re gonna be in an arranged marriage with a girl from a rich family,” she joked with the intention to lighten the atmosphere.

“I’m not into rich girls.” Sukuna released a low chuckle as he drove into the streets of Sera’s neighborhood without any trace of judgement in his eyes. As he was seeing the realities of her life unconcealed, Sera believed that she couldn’t possibly make the same mistakes as long as she was true to herself and fair to the people around her.

Maybe this encounter with Sukuna could lead her to a better path, away from the bumpy road that seemingly had no end.

[rumblelibrary]

Have you ever thought about writing a continuation to Unofficial Meeting? I'm dying to know whether Laszlo earns the reader's forgiveness and if she accepts his proposal or not. Have a good day! 😚

Undisclosed Meeting [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Fem!Reader]

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Laszlo self deprecating himself hard

A/N: how could I give up a chance to make my boy Laszlo happy? Thank you so much for requesting it, it really made me happy to have an old story requested. Here is the original story

“Are you even listening to me?”

Violet inquired as you blinked surprised and taken aback. She invited you over for an afternoon tea, but your mind kept wondering off to what happened between you and Laszlo. You haven’t seen him in over a month and to be honest you missed him. The first few days you were firm on your choice, he upset you and your family, he crossed your boundaries mindlessly.

But then you realised how he meant to ask your hand to your father, how he never meant for you to be hurting, he just wanted to make it official.

Your grandmother tried to talk you out of your anger but she didn’t managed to, it was over anyway. You upset each other, you closed that chapter.

If you have feelings for him that chapter is not closed, your grandmother told you but you tried to ignore it. You haven’t seen him in so long, not even at some event or where you’d usually expect him to be. He kept sending you flowers to you until the end of the previous month. That silly man, always hating to leave things halfway done.

“I am, I am just a bit tired” you said as she waved her hand 

“nonsense ” she said offering you to try some sweets while she stood up to call her maid and gather what she meant to show you “I’ll show you now the latest Paris fashion and you’ll have to wake up” 

She was your friend, she was sweet and she knew you were on a rough patch now and she did all in her power t keep you distracted.

“Charles stop it”

John’s voice rang through you ears as you stood up to see what was going on from the window facing the luscious back garden of the Moore residence. Little Charles was the spit image of his parents and an adventurer at heart, you could tell from the way he kept his father busy running after him.

You smiled as John gave up opening his arms in defeat.

“What I have to do?” He groaned making you chuckle as for a moment it looked like he was asking to God, but when you noticed that he was in fact talking to Dr Kreizler who was sitting on a bench. You codlin’t help but rest your eyes on him, he looked pale, tired like he wasn’t sleeping. He was like this during investigations but as far as you knew there was no one at the moment.

“Wat you have to do John? Let the boy be” he said as a tired smile crept onto his lips.

“Yes, he will break his skull in a second”

Laszlo shook his head looking at him “If you prevent him from doing anything he won’t never learn” he said as he spoke matter of factly but that tiredness in his voice was evident. You wondered what kept him up.

You wondered if t was your fault.

But then you saw the sweet look he had for the child as he picked a ball that was hiding behind his back to give it to him to play with.

He was so good with kids, it was incredible.

You knew it was his job, but the tenderness he showed with them was something you felt on your own skin as you used to be allowed to be part of that special round of people that got to see him being sweet.

You moved away from the window just in time for Violet to come back, her maids holding onto over twenty new items of clothing.

“V” you said to her as the use of that little nickname sparked already her attention “I have to ask you a favour”

It was dead in the evening when Laszlo got asked from Violet to meet a friend of hers with a child with various problems.

The symptoms she described didn’t really add up, they should be excluding each other. But no matter what he decided to go there. 

He usually was very firm about his privacy and the times he could meet or not patients, even though the secrecy of the hour would be typical of a wealthy family trying to hide some kind of a problem they judge as shameful, he also came to a point where work was all he got.

He missed you, everything reminded him of you. He hoped to see, he would be a liar if he didn’t admit to have handed a dollar or two to your maid to at least know how are you.

He didn’t mean to stalk you, he just wanted you happy and once more he was acting behind your back. But your maid told him you were fine and doing your business, so he stopped inquiring. He didn’t deserve you in the first place anyway, but how things ended really pained him, he really thought to be doing right and he really wanted to have a future with you, to have many what John has.

But what nonsense thinking about it now that it is all gone and by his own hand, he had nobody to blame but himself.

As he arrived to the building he got inside surprised not to find anyone at service but only an open door.

The instinct would have told him to go away, but he was reckless by now, he already lost what he cared the most.

Walking inside the candlelit hallway he was surprised to get to a large living room only to find you there.

The truth was that he stopped on his track to admire you. You were amazing, he adored you in any possible shape and form, everything from your clothing to your composure screamed for his eyes to be fixated onto you.

He took that moment to look at you, take in your image, last time you two spoke you were so upset and he didn’t want that to be the last image he had of you.

“I am more discreet than you when I have to do things in secret” you said and he smiled lightly

“You’re”

His admission, the tiredness of his look just paining you.

“Is this a house of your family?”

“Yes, it is my aunt’s but she is on some cruise with her husband”

He nodded quietly as he looked around moving closer to you, the candles around you making him feel like the moment was set in another time.

“You didn’t have to make an appointment to meet me”

“Well, I asked a friend for a favour, I could have paid Stevie to drive you here anyway” you answered, basically hinting him that your maid didn’t keep his little inquiring a secret between the two of you.

He nodded gulping down, he felt like he was naked in front of you, defenceless and anything you could attack him with would really hurt. 

“I though that after our last conversation we needed to speak alone and in a neutral ground, I attacked you and I know I moved past my means”

“Just like I did inquiring about your life without permission” he concluded for you, he kept thinking about that day over and over, he couldn’t take it out of his mind and he even thought it would be easy only because so many people hated him already, button you. He wished you’d never be one of them.

“Miss Y/L/N” the fact he used your last name showing how he was trying to prove you some respect, not using your first name like you’re somehow close, mostly because he doubts you’d wish him close at any time.

��All I have ever wanted was to be worth of you”

His words trembling, like snakes sliding onto your skin.

He opened his mouth to say something and he closed it as he stared somewhere away from you, he shook his head slowly. The pain visible through him.

“I am a despicable failure as a human being, I know it” he said as he rose his hand to invite your silence “I have spent my life trying to find a common language  to get through people, studying them ,making sure to be able to read human behaviour to allow myself the freedom of interaction. I am not a natural like John, I can’t just go on a group and charm my way through it and I knew, I knew from the moment you allowed me to be close to you that I would ruin it because I am such social wreck, because I can’t control myself or I can’t not follow the rules that I have been told are the right path to follow”

He let out a shaky breath as he looked down and then up at you, he was trying to hold back tears but the truth was that he cried for losing you, He cried for nights and days.

“I apologise once more, I wanted to do you right and I just overstepped you. I always admired you for your being independent and clever and I reduced you to an object with my insensitive behaviour. I always make myself strong from talking my way through people and I blindsided you when words were the most needed”

You looked at him as maybe for the first time he really throw away the mask, he really let himself speak up.

“I valued what you did for me” you blinked at him surprised, your head slightly falling on side to observe him.

He was going down the self deprecating himself hill, you could almost count how much time there was between him going down onto his arm topic. You know that was always his undisclosed weakness, how he hated it and saw himself as unlovable because imperfect.

“It is yes”

He looked at you with a frown not seeing what you mean.

“My answer for your question”

He frowned even more, what question? You could hear it resonate into his mind as he didn’t ask you anything, he came to you to apologise and…

And then he got it.

His eyes widened as he opened his mouth only to close it again.

No, he was probably misunderstanding, once more reading badly the situation.

You picked your left glove slowly taking it off to show him you were wearing his ring on your hand.

He stared at you, his hand hesitantly moving to pick yours bringing it up to his lips and resting a kiss over it, his hand holding yours as he stared up at you.

His wet eyes now unmistakable from cha closeness, the signs of his lack of sleep visible.

“In a marriage there shouldn’t be secrets, I tried to avoid something shameful for me when you allowed me to see every part of you” you admitted as you weren’t free from blame, you referred to pretend something wasn’t there rather than facing it.

He stared at you with shaky breath, as he licked his lips trying to find words.

“I love you Laszlo, I really want to be your wife”

His jaw trembled as the happiness rushed over him like electricity, his hand bringing yours over his heart beating so fast and hard that he felt it could explode.

“I love you Y/N” he whispered as you caressed his cheek with your right hand as he leaned down, still not daring to believe what was happening.

So you just did it, you leaned in closing the space between the two of you with a kiss.

The times were changed.

Women could accept wedding proposals without their father’s approval, men could cry for love and love words were made of truths and exposed weaknesses and not by the words of dusty poets. And with such strong ideals you could only imagine your life as set up for a greater kind of happiness with him.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog

[heliads]

The Value of a Friend

Peter Parker is fairly surprised when a classmate, Y/N L/N, is able to figure out his secret identity as Spider-Man. He’ll come to rely on her over the next few months, although he may make a surprise discovery about his feelings for her on the school trip to Europe.

masterlist

Peter Parker’s legs swing absentmindedly over the edge of the roof. There’s nothing much going on right now- brick, stucco, and metal as far as the eye can see. The lights of the city that never sleeps reflect off of the windows; a thousand sights and sounds and happenings littered down the boulevards. Despite all the comings and goings, the rush of people across the streets, nothing major has happened all night. Peter knows he technically shouldn’t be hoping for crime, but he does want at least one thing to happen to justify him staying up this late on patrol duty.

Peter’s got the usual mask pulled down over his face, disguising the heavy circles under his eyes. He may have superhuman strength and durability, but his powers don’t appear to help him run on less sleep. However, Peter’s used to staying up long nights patrolling. This particular moonlit outing isn’t unusual.

There’s a movement out of the corner of his eye, and Peter shifts to glance over at the orderly streets behind him. There- a girl walking down a sidewalk, her pace brisk and hurried to steer her quickly through an alleyway. With a rush, Peter realizes that he recognizes the girl. Her name is Y/N L/N, she’s in some of his classes. He wouldn’t exactly consider her a best friend, maybe more of an acquaintance. This isn’t due to any specific animosity, Peter just never really got the chance to talk to her. Sometimes, however, he wishes he had.

Y/N isn’t just smart like the other students in his class, she’s clever. Peter has seen the way her eyes light up when she figures something out, the same light that winks out from underneath her eyelashes when she laughs over a bad joke with her friends. Peter shakes himself for a second. Why is he thinking so much about her eyes? He shouldn’t have the way she smiles memorized at all, ready to call up at a moment’s notice.

Besides, Peter realizes with a dull chill, Y/N’s eyes are different from Peter’s on one grand scale. Y/N has no superpowered senses, and so she cannot tell that there are two or three men shadowing her as she wends through the streets. Peter curses softly, realizing that the men are definitely following her. Without a second thought, he leaps down from the building, swinging towards them on ropes of spider silk.

Peter’s goal was to take them out before they got close enough to reach Y/N. However, they were too far away and it doesn’t look like a secret rescue will be happening tonight. They’ve already cornered her in a narrow street, hands pulling guns out of coat pockets. Peter acts as quickly as he can- spiderweb launched at one, dragging him back against the wall of the street. The other Peter takes on directly, aiming a blow at the man’s head that knocks him backward before Peter hits him again. Peter would usually tie the thugs up and leave them for some other soul to deal with, but the men are already running away without a second’s hesitation and he doesn’t much feel like trying to track them down.

There’s a soft sound behind him, like a gasp of breath, and Peter turns around to see Y/N standing there, looking shaken but unhurt. Peter panics for a moment before remembering that his mask is still snugly in place. She would have no way of knowing him. Peter takes a hesitant step closer, reaching out his hands to show that he means no harm. “I’m, uh, Spider-Man. Are you alright?”

Y/N shakes her head hastily. “No, I’m fine. Thank you for saving me from those guys.” Peter waves a hand. “No problem. All in the job description, you know?” Y/N laughs, but the sound dies slowly from her lips as she stares at him. Her head cocks slightly to the side, as if she’s considering something. She raises a hand slowly to point at him like she’s unsure of a truth but determined to say it nonetheless.

“Are you Peter Parker?” Peter stiffens, turning hurriedly to make sure that nobody could have heard her. Dimly, he realizes that he should have denied this first instead of acting like this was something to be hidden. “Uh, no. I don’t know who that is.” The lie sounds fake even to his own lips. A small smile is growing over Y/N’s lips, as if she’s incredulous. “You are. Peter Parker from chem class is Spider-Man.”

Peter figures that the game is up, so he tugs his mask from his head. Y/N’s eyes dart to his face, washing over every detail as if in awe. “It’s true. You’re actually Spider-Man?” Peter nods thickly. “How did you know it was me?” A slight blush forms in Y/N’s cheeks. “I, uh, you looked familiar.” Peter raises an eyebrow. “I was wearing a mask.” Y/N blushes harder. “You have the same voice. Is that better? You sound the exact same.”

Peter lets out a huff of breath at that. He can’t deny it- he’s messed around with voice settings on the suit before but never bothered to permanently give himself a different-sounding voice as Spider-Man. Now he’s paying the price for it. “Maybe.” A slight smile tugs at the corners of Y/N’s lips. “You were ready to be Spider-Man but you didn’t even have an excuse prepared to explain yourself?” Peter feels defensive. “Well, most people don’t actually figure it out. You’re the first, actually. Well, I had to tell Ned but only because he saw me crawling on the ceiling. I didn’t realize he was there, though. I don’t usually crawl on ceilings.”

Peter realizes he’s rambling and does his best to stop talking. Y/N’s smiling at him again, and he feels surprisingly fine about it. “I would hope not. Crawling on ceilings is kind of hard to explain away.” Peter scratches the back of his head, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah, that’s kind of why I had to tell him.” Y/N flashes him a grin. “Well, I appreciate the rescue, Peter-Not-Spider-Man. I’ll see you in class?” Suddenly, Peter doesn’t want to leave. “I can walk you home if you like? I hear it’s kind of dangerous out here.” Y/N nods her approval. “Sure thing. Just make sure you put your mask back on first.”

Peter becomes friends with Y/N after that. There’s almost no way not to- she knows the biggest secret of his life, how could they not be friends? Ned is thrilled to find another ‘Friend of Spider-Man’, as he dubs Y/N, and the three of them get along surprisingly well. MJ, too, is glad to see Y/N around, although MJ has yet to discover Peter’s secret. At the rate he’s going, though, Peter has a shifting feeling that she’ll find out soon enough.

It’s after one of his late night patrol rounds that Peter finds himself knocking on Y/N’s window. He’s slumped against the window sill, hand pressed to his side. There was a mass robbery on the East Side, something Peter stupidly thought he could handle without a second thought. He stopped the robbery, that was true, but they’d managed to fire off several shots with some newfangled weaponry that even Tony would have to take a second look at. The result is this: a bloody cut on his side that doesn’t look like it will be going away any time soon.

After a couple of seconds, Y/N throws open her window. She leans out, eyes widening when she sees Peter still dressed in his Spider-Man suit. “What’s going on?” She hisses, then her gaze finds the bloody slit on his side. “What is that?” She glances behind her, as if making sure everyone is asleep, then gestures hurriedly for him to climb through the window after her. “Quick, come in.” Once Peter’s standing in her room, Y/N closes the window, then leans against it, staring at the blood on his hands and the nervous look in his eyes.

“What happened?” Peter grimaces. “Robbery. Bit off a little more than I can chew. Do you have a first aid kit? I think I need to get this bandaged up but if I go home now Aunt May will freak out. I can’t stress her anymore, and I don’t think Ned knows how to stop bleeding.” Y/N shakes her head. “Gotcha. Give me a second, I can grab some supplies.” Y/N heads out of her room, reappearing in a minute or so with a box of bandages and medical supplies held triumphantly in front of her. 

She directs Peter to sit on a chair by her desk, and he does so, careful not to get any blood on, well, anything. Y/N takes a seat opposite him, bandages and an antibiotic for disinfecting the wound in her hands. Her brow furrows as she begins to treat the wound, and Peter can’t help but let his gaze linger across the determined look in her eyes, the slight curve of her lips as she focuses on the cut on his side.

After a while she straightens up, and Peter looks away hurriedly, feeling a slight blush heat up his cheeks. “I think that should hold you for a while. You said you had superhuman strength and stuff like that, right? You’ll probably be able to sleep it off.” Peter climbs back through the window, but just before he swings away he turns back, leaning his head through the opening to Y/N’s room. “Thanks a lot, Y/N. I mean it. I can’t think of anyone else I could turn to.” Y/N smiles at him, a smile that seems to light up the whole room. “No problem, Peter. If you’ve got my back, I’ve got yours.”

Peter is certainly grateful for his friendship with Y/N over the next couple of months. He ends up making a couple more stops by her room for help patching up various injuries, and when he has to deal with the aftermath of Tony’s death, she’s always there with some way to hear him out and cheer him up. Honestly, he doesn’t know what he would do without her.

When Peter gets word of the school trip to Europe, he thinks it’s the best thing that could happen to him in a while. Time to himself, with friends, touring interesting places. He’s hoping that a change in scene will finally let him breathe for a second, let him put aside the mask and suit and be Peter Parker once more. However, the appearance of the suit in his suitcase and one Nick Fury convinces him that this trip won’t just be a vacation, however much he wants it. Hopefully, he’ll have time to tell MJ how he feels in between the attacks of the elementals.

MJ. What is Peter supposed to do about MJ? He knows he has feelings for her, that much is obvious. He had a plan, carefully laid out steps that would culminate in Peter telling MJ he loves her and presenting her with a black dahlia necklace. However, as the fights with the elementals grow and grow, he has a feeling that won’t entirely work out. What is he supposed to do now?

He’s confessed his plan to Ned, just to hear another point of view. He told Y/N actually, at a different point in time. She’d seen the necklace and was wondering if he had a sudden taste in jewelry. It was strange, though, the second Peter had told her how he felt about MJ Y/N had gotten this sudden look, like she was shuttering the light in her eyes closed against the world. The sight of her, the smile slipping from her lips, made Peter feel like he’d done something terribly wrong. He just couldn’t figure out what it was. Y/N seemed fine after that, but he did notice that she stopped talking about the dahlia necklace or anything in the plan at all.

Things with the elementals end up going from bad to worse. Peter finds out that the man he thought was his friend, Quentin Beck, was actually the one behind the elementals all along. In fact, the elementals were nothing more than elaborate holograms, and Peter had gone and given Beck control over E.D.I.T.H. in the form of Tony’s glasses. Mr. Stark’s last gift to him, and Peter had tossed it away in a moment of misplaced trust.

It’s not like Peter is alone, though. MJ found out about Peter’s secret identity as Spider-Man, and now she, Y/N, and Ned are figuring out how to take down Mysterio alongside Peter. Peter feels a sudden rush of gratitude as he looks back at his friends. With people like them, people that matter that much to him, Peter feels like he could take on the world. And with Mysterio’s control over E.D.I.T.H., he just may have to.

The battle ends up going surprisingly well. Peter manages to turn the tide on Mysterio, refusing to fall for any of the man’s schemes and tricks. In the end, he is able to wrest control of E.D.I.T.H. away from Mysterio, thus enabling him to remove all of the drones and end the man’s plans once and for all. Now that the fight is over, though, Peter almost doesn’t know what to do.

He finds himself stumbling down Tower Bridge, limping from all of the various injuries he’s managed to obtain during the fight. The first thought in his head is that he should look for Y/N, for the one girl he always turns to whenever he needs help. Then MJ runs out from among the cars, and Peter focuses instead on her. She dashes over to him, throwing her arms around him and telling him that yes, everyone is okay and yes, he saved them all.

Distantly, Peter can see the figures of Ned and Y/N approaching, but it’s alright. They’re his friends, he doesn’t have to worry about pulling his mask back on. Peter pulls away, fishing around in his pocket for the black dahlia necklace. He feels crushed to see that it’s in pieces, but MJ says something about how she likes it better broken. It’s funny, though- Y/N has always been able to fix things. To fix him.

Peter pushes Y/N out of his mind. He’s not thinking about his friend, he’s thinking about MJ. MJ, the girl he loves, the girl who is right in front of him. The girl who’s just leaned forward and kissed him. Peter lets himself kiss her back, lets himself lean into her and block out the rest of the world. There’s the screech of traffic echoing around him from the parts of the city that haven’t yet shut down, and that is what drags Peter back to reality.

They break apart after a few seconds. MJ starts to step away, saying something about how she should probably get going before too many people see familiar Midtown students with Spider-Man. Peter nods, noting that Ned and Y/N have changed direction upon seeing MJ head their way once more. There’s a strange expression on Y/N’s face, a strange emptiness that hadn’t been there before. Peter wants to go run after her, to say something to make that quiet sorrow go away, but his feet feel leaden in place and all he can do is watch as she walks away.

Peter gets back to his hotel room late that night. Ned files in after him, chuckling softly about how his best friend managed to save the day and get with MJ in one go. However, Ned’s face falls as he says this. “Did you really have to kiss her in front of Y/N, though?” Peter frowns over at his friend. “What do you mean?” Ned spreads his hands. “Well, you know, because Y/N likes you. I thought it would be kind of mean to kiss MJ when she was right there.”

Peter feels like the ground is falling away underneath his feet. “Y/N likes me?” Ned nods. “Didn’t you know? She’s had a crush on you for a while now. Sorry, Peter, I thought you knew. I probably shouldn’t have told you that.” Peter waves away his friend’s apology, already heading to the door. Ned’s voice stops him. “You won’t be able to find her. She was scheduled to take an earlier trip home. Remember? It was planned out earlier in the month. She had to make it home early for some family reason, she talked about it on the flight.” Peter remembers this now, and his stomach turns at the thought of Y/N on that plane, all alone and stuck with the picture of him and MJ kissing.

Ned turns away to pack his suitcase, but Peter can’t think about anything productive at all. He’s beginning to realize that he’s made a very big mistake, something he can only hope to undo. There was a reason he hadn’t felt anything when he kissed MJ, when it had been awkward and emotionless. It wasn’t just because they were tired teenagers and didn’t know what to do, it was because he didn’t love her at all. No, the girl Peter loved is on a plane right now, and she thinks that Peter doesn’t care about her when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

What is he supposed to do? Y/N will hate him for this. Somehow, that one thought is enough to motivate him to reach towards his suitcase, to start packing again. He has to make it back, has to find his way home to tell Y/N how he really feels. He can only hope that Y/N will let him stick around long enough to say it.

Y/N doesn’t come to her window for a long time after Peter knocks. He’s almost beginning to think that it’s a lost cause and she’ll never want to speak to him again when the sash gently opens and Y/N leans out. She’s usually used to seeing Peter crouched on her windowsill, but for some reason she startles at seeing him like it’s his first time visiting.

Peter speaks softly, his voice barely louder than the wind. “I think I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life.” Y/N holds up a hand. “I don’t need any explanations. You can do whatever you want, you didn’t have to come by.” Peter shakes his head. “Yes, I did. I know you had feelings for me once. I was kind of hoping that you hadn’t changed your mind about me.”

Peter ends up leaving Y/N’s room much later. He has a grin that he can’t seem to shake, and a bounce in his step that doesn’t fade for hours. He might just have managed to save himself, to convince the girl he loves that she should take a chance and stay with him. Besides, he’s kissed her enough to say a thousand words.

peter parker/marvel tag list: @namoreno​, @mycosmicparadise​

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

the best by far is you: chapter 17

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Previous Chapter

For all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you -  Cecilia and the satellite

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Summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie’s story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the Battle of Culloden.

Chapter 17

Edinburgh

June 1746

Edinburgh proved difficult to search. One lone carriage was hardly something of note for residents of Edinburgh, and that besides, Claire was quite certain this was where that particular journey had ended. They had no way of knowing where in the city Jamie and Faith would’ve gone once they’d arrived. So they checked every tavern, inn, and boarding house they could find, hoping they weren’t too late, that Jamie and Faith hadn’t moved on to some other place.

It was once again the horse, of all things, that gave them hope.

They were walking through a bustling market when Fergus stopped so abruptly in front of Claire that she nearly knocked him over. “Fergus, what are you‒”

His gaze was frozen on something ahead. “It’s Donas, Milady.”

“What?”

He didn't wait another second and surged forward into the crowd, leaving Claire and Murtagh to scramble after him. When they caught up to him, they were both brought almost nose-to-nose with a black horse that was unmistakable to them.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” Claire whispered tightly, eyes widening at the sight before her. Donas was tucked back into a stall just off the busy street, but his head swung curiously over the wooden gate.

She glanced about, trying to get her bearings. If Donas was here, then‒

“Get back!”

The three of them startled at the sharp voice, Claire’s hand flying to Fergus’s shoulder as if that could shield him. Off to their right, a man had appeared ‒ a blacksmith by trade if his gritty, grimy appearance was any indication. “Unless ye want tae lose a hand. That beast is the devil’s own.”

Donas reared back suddenly, as if he understood and took offense. Claire was used to the horse’s attitude, but his timing always was something else, she thought. The blacksmith only took this as confirmation of what he’d just said, nodding sharply toward the horse with wide-eyed suspicion.

“See? He kens it.”

“That is not‒” Fergus began. Claire squeezed his shoulder.

“Please, can you tell us where we might find the owner of this horse?”

The blacksmith’s gaze shifted over the three of them, considering. Finally, he folded his arms over his chest and leveled a withering gaze at Claire. “Ye’re lookin’ at ‘im.”

“What?” She balked. Her gaze flew back to Donas, looking him over more discerningly. It had to be him. Then…?

“When did you acquire him?”

“I dinna see why ye need tae know.”

It was clear the man was growing tired of them, but before Claire could respond, Murtagh had fired back a reply. “I dinna see what harm there is in answering the lass.”

The blacksmith hardly concealed his annoyance but threw his hands up in defeat. “If it’ll make ye leave. A man brought him ‘round last week and sold him to me‒”

Claire felt her breath leave her lungs in a rush. A week ago. They’d never been this close before. A light, buoyant feeling filled her.

“‒ under false pretenses, mind. Tha’ horse was docile as a wee lamb when he brought ‘im here. Soon as he’s gone, I was dealing wi’ a demon.”

“Maybe you should‒”

Whatever Fergus was about to say, Claire was certain it wouldn’t have been flattering. And she needed more from this conversation still.

“Last question and then we’re out of your hair.” She felt an odd flutter in her stomach at the thought of what answers they might be able to walk away with. “What can you tell me about the man who sold you the horse?”

  They’d come to stay so long in Edinburgh that Faith’s understanding of “home” was beginning to solidify around the place they’d resided there: Mary’s aunt’s house. And while the streets were still crawling with soldiers, Jamie had gone so long without incident or recognition that the wariness was fading each time he stepped outside.

Mary's aunt had been hospitable in opening her home to Jamie and Faith when they arrived with Mary, though Jamie got the distinct impression that she wasn't exactly thrilled with this arrangement, given that she knew he was a Scot.

Still, it was a safe haven while they waited for sea passage to open up again.

Jamie entered the house, lugging his bundle of purchases, and was almost immediately greeted by Faith's high-pitch squeal from the other room. He paused, wondering if it was a squeal of excitement or some sort of fit.

There was a bustle of movement up ahead from the parlor and then Faith tumbled out into the hallway, tripping on the hem of her dress. It was new to her, an old dress belonging to one of Mary's cousins, and they were adjusting it for Faith.

"Da!"

Happy squeal, then.

He grinned broadly and dropped to one knee as Faith toddled over to him, nearly tripping again as she reached him. "Did ye behave for yer Auntie Mary, then?"

She didn't respond to him, only looped her slight arms around his neck and started to hang from him, giggling all the while.

"Alright then, ye wee fiend," he laughed, scooping her up as he moved to stand.

By now, Mary had appeared at the threshold and greeted him before they all moved into the parlor. Jamie noted that none of the other inhabitants of the house were in the room and breathed a sigh of relief. He was abundantly grateful to be able to keep Faith sheltered here, but he had no great desire for the company of near strangers ‒ especially those who looked down their nose at him.

“I’ve had a letter from my father,” Mary announced.

“Aye?”

“He’s sending my younger brother to escort me back to my father’s estate.”

Jamie nodded at that, though he wasn’t sure how he should feel. “And how did he take yer news?”

“Oh quite well,” Mary said swiftly. “I knew he would. Of course he wishes I wasn’t so recently widowed, since he’ll have to make arrangements for me to be married again. But there’s no shame in being widowed and with child.”

Jamie took a deep breath, ready to dive in on that comment, but thought better of interfering in her family matters and bit his tongue instead.

“Find everything you were looking for?” Mary asked.

“Oh aye.” Jamie pulled out the fresh ginger he’d purchased. There had been a number of items he’d needed to prepare for the upcoming voyage, but none quite so important as the very thing he held up for Mary to see. “For my seasickness,” he explained and then grinned ruefully. “Canna seem to so much as set foot on a ship wi’out getting sick.”

“Is it bad?”

“It’s no’ a pretty sight, I’m sure.”

“What will you do with Faith?”

Jamie’s gaze dropped to Faith in his lap and he swallowed roughly. “I dinna have much choice but to pray the ginger tea keeps me standing. I canna afford to get sick.”

Mary fell silent at that, her hands fidgeting restlessly in her lap.

But he knew even without her saying it that it was a foolish endeavor. He knew how sick he became on sea voyages and without anyone else with them, he ran the risk of becoming too sick to care for his child. But what other choice did he have?

“I could go with you.”

Mary’s words were spoken so softly, he almost didn’t catch them. His head snapped up and he stared at her. “You canna be serious.”

“Of course I’m serious!”

“It’s‒ I mean no offense to ye, Mary. It’s only… well, yer brother is already on his way and‒”

“That’s not a problem. I’ll just leave word here with my aunt telling him where we’ve gone. He can follow after and escort me back, same as he intended before.”

“That hardly seems fair to him. How old is the lad?”

Mary hesitated briefly. “George is fifteen, he’s old enough.”

Jamie swore under his breath. “We dinna even know where we’re headed yet. Could be as far as the colonies. And even if ye did accompany us on the journey and instructed yer wee brother to follow us… by time he arrives, ye willna be fit to make the journey again wi’ the bairn coming. You’ll have to have the baby in another country, alone.”

“I’ll be alone no matter where I am,” Mary pointed out and Jamie immediately regretted his words. “Doesn’t matter if I’m in Italy or France, the colonies or my father’s estate.”

Jamie sighed. “I still dinna like the idea. Ye’re finally safe here and under no obligation to help us further. I’m already indebted to ye for getting us this far. No, I couldna ask that of ye.”

“Good thing you didn’t ask then.” Mary straightened her spine. “And it’s… it’s me who’s indebted to you. If you hadn’t come to Inverness, I’d still be‒”

Jamie raised a hand in silent pleading. After all they’d been through since he’d knocked on her door in Inverness, there simply was no keeping score of how they’d aided one another. And he valued her friendship too highly to think of it as mere transactions.

He sighed loudly, hating the idea but seeing that determined look in Mary’s eye.

“Besides,” Mary added, “I’m not really doing this for you.”

He smiled cheerlessly, once again turning his gaze back to the red-headed toddler in his lap. For Claire, she’d said at the start. And it had never escaped his notice just how much Mary risked to repay Claire’s kindness, her friendship. “Well, I thank ye for it. Truly. Ye’re a good friend, Mary Hawkins.”

The evenings were always bittersweet in Edinburgh. It meant putting Faith to bed, a small routine that they’d carved out no matter where they were, and a time that Jamie always treasured. And it also meant once his child was asleep that there was nothing to preoccupy his mind, to keep his anguished thoughts at bay.

But before then, his complete attention was always on Faith.

“C’mere, lass.”

He scooped her up and headed toward the nursery where Faith slept. He felt her head rest heavy on his shoulder as they went, and her small hand patted his opposite shoulder gently.

He was helping her change into her nightgown when she sneezed. Three times in quick succession.

“Something tickling yer nose, a nighean?” he said lightly, though his hand went to her forehead and tried to gauge her temperature. Felt normal, but there was a small voice in the back of his mind ‒ Claire’s voice ‒ reminding him that unless the fever was very high, it was often hard to discern if someone had a fever by merely feeling for it.

Faith rubbed her nose with the back of her pudgy hand and looked up at him with glassy eyes. “Christ, I hope ye’re not sick.”

He took her wee face in his hands and pressed a kiss to her hairline, then rested his cheek there for a moment. She felt a little warm, but did that mean…?

Faith’s little hands wormed their way between them and pushed his face away. “No’ sick.”

He chuckled and pulled back, startled by her boldness, her certainty. A pint-sized force of nature, even if she was ‒ perhaps ‒ feeling under the weather.

But God in Heaven! He wished Claire was here for this. For all of it with Faith, but especially this. She would know better than him what to do if Faith got sick.

“Ye ready for bed then?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No’ yet, Da.”

“Not yet?”

Again, she shook her head, this time with a hint of a smile on her face. The more she learned to talk, the better she became at delaying her dreaded bedtime. She burst into a flood of speech ‒ not much of which was intelligible to Jamie, but she had something to say nonetheless ‒ which ended promptly with the word “story.”

“Ah. Ye’ll be wanting yer bedtime story then, is tha’ it?”

A curt nod from Faith.

“Aye, I can oblige ye there, mo chridhe.”

He stood and watched Faith scurry over to the small bed that was all her own. As was their nightly ritual, he situated Faith off to one side and pulled the covers up for her before carefully easing his six-foot-four frame onto the comically small bed, curled onto his side with his feet hanging over the ledge. A gentle breeze could’ve knocked him backwards off of the bed, but this was what he’d done the first night in this strange house when Faith had been too scared to sleep alone. Now, she slept well enough so long as he was there to tuck her in, give her a story. Once she was asleep, he would move her more towards the center of the bed before he left and retired to his own room.

“What story would ye like tonight, a nighean?”

“My mam?”

He exhaled a laugh. They were always about Faith’s mam. Even while he worried that Faith would never truly know Claire, it couldn’t stop him from wanting to talk about her to Faith. To help her understand the magnitude of Claire’s love for her, and that it wasn’t Claire’s fault that she wasn’t here now with Faith.

“Aye, I can tell ye about yer mam,” Jamie agreed softly. He started as he always did ‒ with a memory of Claire, whatever came to him in the moment. And he’d simply talk for as long as Faith needed, weaving one memory into another until he noticed her eyelids getting heavy, her breathing slowing to a steady rhythm.

“Ken yer mother was verra canny,” he prefaced his next story, slipping subconsciously into past-tense when he spoke of Claire. “What she didna ken about healing could fit in a shoe. After the Battle of Prestonpans, I was so weary and hurting ‒ got stepped on by a horse that day, ye ken, and och yer mam was furious wi’ me ‒ but I came back into the cottage to watch her, tending to the injured men. She was tireless and so determined…”

When Faith was finally out, he reached over and felt her forehead again, battling a sinking feeling that Faith truly was coming down with an illness. She’d been sniffling and sneezing, but that could be nothing. Or it could be the first sign of something more.

“A Dhia…”

He ached for Claire every minute of the day ‒ needed her like the very breath in his lungs ‒ but he’d never felt so wretchedly helpless without her until this moment. What would he do if Faith became sick?

Panic squeezed his heart in a vice grip. She was all he had now. Faith, still so wee and fragile, was the only thing keeping Jamie from careening off into the dark. And suddenly, he wasn’t even sure he could do this on his own.

He wanted to steal away back to the stones with Faith, to find some way to fix this. She should be with Claire ‒ she should’ve always been with Claire ‒ and it wasn’t right that they had been separated. That Faith couldn’t travel like her mother could.

Since he was a lad, he had a habit of speaking to his departed brother, Willie. Since Willie had been the oldest, he rightly should’ve been laird. So much of Jamie’s life growing up had been the result of Willie’s death. Honors that would normally befall the oldest son passed to Jamie instead, like fostering with his Uncle Dougal or continuing his studies in Paris. This had always been front of mind for Jamie, and when faced with a decision as Laird, he found it only respectful of Willie’s memory to ask his older brother’s thoughts on choices that should’ve been his to make.

Aye, the dead had a way of living with Jamie. He hadn’t only talked to Willie, but to the plovers along the shore, which legend said carried the souls of young mothers lost in childbirth. And he’d done this for years before he lost his da, but never once in the time since Brian Fraser’s death had he spoken to his father.

But suddenly, he found himself longing to pour his heart out to his departed father, in conversations he’d been too hesitant to have with the weight of Jamie’s misplaced guilt over Brian’s death. Suddenly, more than anything, he ached for one last conversation with his da.

“How did ye do it, Athair?” he whispered in the still room the question that had been plaguing him. He was intimately familiar with the pain his father would’ve suffered when his mam died. “How did you keep on living wi’out yer heart?”

The answer was there before him in the sleeping form of Faith. His father had survived for his and Jenny’s sakes, carried them through their grief and gave them hope. And though it felt impossible, though everything within him screamed that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be, Jamie would do the same for Faith as his father did for him. “I ken now the pain ye were trying to hide, Athair. But ye raised me and Jenny well despite it all. Help me do the same.”

His hand gently brushed over Faith’s wispy curls as he then addressed his sleeping child. “I’ve told ye plenty about yer mam, but nothing of my mam and da. We’ll need tae remedy that. Another time.”

He breathed in deep and then sighed heavily. “My da only ever kent me as a lad. Sometimes I wonder… if he saw me as I am today, would he be proud of me now? Would he approve of who I’ve become? And would I be much different from who I was before... or would he still recognize me as his son?”

His thumb softly stroked at her hair just above her temple before tucking a few wayward locks behind one tiny ear. “But I look at ye, Faith, and… there’s nothing ye could do that would ever change how I love ye. How I’m bursting at the seams with pride o’er ye. And that’s one thing I ken my da would’ve been very proud of,” he shifted slowly and pressed a kiss to Faith’s head before he finally stood, “My bairns.”

  It had been a week since they’d found Donas and they still didn’t have a crumb of information for where Jamie and Faith might be.

“Would it have been better to wait at Lallybroch in case he sent word? Before we went trampling across the country in search of him…” Claire wondered aloud.

“That would have taken months to wait for news to arrive.” Murtagh eyed her protruding belly, just starting to appear noticeable to others under all her layers of clothing. “Ye dinna have that kind of time to wait around.”

Claire sighed. “Aren’t we just waiting here, until we find a trace of him? Doesn’t feel much different.”

Murtagh didn’t reply, just made that Scottish sound low in the throat and eased into a chair.

There was a boyish shout from outside and Claire’s gaze flickered over to the window. Fergus was out in the street with another boy, playing some sort of game. She’d told him to go run some energy off after he’d been driving her up a wall all afternoon within the cramped confines of their rented room. They’d had no lead on Jamie even after finding Donas and that had hit Fergus hard. But even worse had been walking away without the horse that Fergus had loved so dearly ‒ all the time wondering why Jamie had sold him in the first place.

“What if they’re already gone from here? How long do we wait ‒ how long can we wait before the money is gone?”

They’d had no collateral of their own to offer up for the horse and even though they had some money ‒ money that they’d carefully skimped and saved during their journey before arriving in Edinburgh ‒ it wouldn’t last forever.

Murtagh grunted softly again. He’d heard her, he just didn’t have an answer.

Claire had even tried offering her services as a healer here when they first arrived. But Edinburgh was a bustling Lowland city, not a remote Highland village, and where those small populations would flock to Claire, the people of Edinburgh turned their nose up at her ‒ a strange woman they had no cause to trust or even to need in a large city such as this. So even the small hope of word getting out to Jamie of a Sassenach woman healer had quickly been dashed.

Her gaze sought out Fergus again and her heart sank in her chest. She wasn’t sure how much more disappointment they could shoulder before it became all too much. Or how much longer they could search before the only obvious solution was to turn home for Lallybroch.

Her hand fell to her belly. Murtagh was right about that at least. They didn’t have all that much time before there would be a baby to consider as well.

  The ports had reopened in Edinburgh ‒ but not without British control over what came in and out of the harbor. The sale of Donas helped provide enough to book passage on a ship, but they’d had to be careful in arranging it. Jamie had begun to notice the new broadsheets going up around Edinburgh and among them, one for Red Jamie. No doubt as the dust from Culloden began to settle, his disappearance hadn’t gone completely unnoticed.

He had followed the captain of a cargo ship recently docked in Edinburgh into a tavern one night. The captain ‒ a Scot through and through ‒ and Jamie swapped tales over drinks well into the night and only once he was sure the good captain had been plied with enough drink to make him amiable did he bring up the request to book passage with him.

“Ye dinna even ken where we’re going,” the captain laughed, his cheeks ruddy from drink.

Jamie laughed too, though he realized he’d made a misstep. That it might sound more suspicious now than if he’d learned of the destination first. Instead he tried to play it off as being cavalier. “Tell ye the truth… it doesna really matter where ye’re going, so long as it’s away from here.”

The captain chuckled and shook his head. They negotiated the price and sealed the deal there at that tavern table. “Write yer names down for me. I’ll have them added to the ship’s manifest. We sail in three days. Dinna be late.”

“And where are we sailing for?” Jamie finally asked.

“Och I thought it didna matter!” The captain roared with laughter again and Jamie reminded himself he couldn’t strike the captain that was giving him a way out of Scotland.

The captain stood to his feet, a bit wobbly at first try. Jamie thought of Mary and how she planned to leave a letter for her brother to be able to follow. How could he follow if he didn’t know where they went?

He opened his mouth to speak, but the captain clapped him hard on the shoulder and said, “Le Havre, man. We’re only going so far as Le Havre.”

In three days’ time, Jamie, Mary, and Faith were at the docks ‒ Jamie with his hair recently dyed black to cover his roots and Faith with her red hair tucked under a bonnet and then the hood of her cape as a precaution.

They would need to be allowed past by the Redcoat checking the ship’s manifest, the only hurdle standing between them and freedom. And having spoken with the captain that night in the tavern, they couldn’t fall back on their old gimmick of Jamie-as-a-mute. But this was a calculated risk he knew he would take, hoping that the time and miles between here and Culloden would be enough to shed any suspicion that he might be Red Jamie.

“Name?”

He met the eye of the Redcoat staring him down. “Alexandre Beauchamp,” he said evenly, letting a little bit of his admittedly imperfect French accent bleed into his thick Highlander dialect in hopes that it would at least confuse him. Off the surprised look from the man, he added with an easy smile, “I get that look a lot. My father was a Frenchman but my mother a Scot. Ye can see for yerself which side I favored in looks.” He could hide the red hair, but the towering height, the build of a man descended from Vikings… that could not be so easily hidden.

“And your companions?”

“My daughter, Faith Beauchamp, and Mary Hawkins.”

The man’s gaze flicked between Jamie and Mary, and though Jamie’s heart felt as though it might beat right out of his chest, this conversation was flowing exactly as he’d anticipated. They were almost through.

“And your relation to Mistress Hawkins?”

“My late wife’s sister. She’s accompanying me to care for my child.” It wasn’t terribly far from the truth ‒ and it was a necessity now to be able to explain why Faith called her Auntie Mary.

“And your reason for journeying to Le Havre?”

“My father’s family is there. My grandfather is in poor health and I must return.”

The Redcoat looked him in the eye again and Jamie knew what question came next. “And are you a Jacobite or have you ever aided the Jacobites in any way, Mr. Beauchamp?”

“No.” He was met with a look of vague suspicion and he mustered every ounce of easy confidence into next words. “I am not nor have I ever been a Jacobite, or a Jacobite sympathizer for that matter. And I never aided their cause in any way. I am loyal to the crown.”

The Redcoat quirked one eyebrow at that and Jamie felt his stomach twisting into knots. “They all say that… now.”

But with a quick jerk of his head, the Redcoat dismissed them. Jamie blinked, stunned for a moment that it had been that easy. Because even without proof… the Redcoats could have treated him any way they wanted. That was their claim as victors. They didn’t need a reason to not let him through and that had been the one variable Jamie couldn’t have planned for ‒ the mercy of a Redcoat.

He shifted Faith to one arm and moved past the man, ushering Mary ahead of him up the gangway to the ship.

“Sir! Wait.”

He froze, hearing the Redcoat’s voice ring out. Mary stopped too and whirled around to look back at him. His hold on Faith tightened and he turned slowly.

The Redcoat stared at him curiously.

Jamie forced a smile. “Have I forgotten something?”

“As a matter of fact…” the man held out his hand. In his palm was Sawny, which Jamie had given to Faith to keep her occupied. She must’ve dropped it.

“Ah. I thank ye, Corporal.” He grabbed Sawny and handed it back to Faith. “I would’ve had a verra unhappy child on my hands had that been left behind.”

He wasted no time waiting for a response and turned with Faith to head back up the gangway where Mary still stood. “Let’s go,” he uttered under his breath when they reached her. The sooner they could be at sea, the safer he would feel.

What he hadn’t expected to feel was the loss.

He held Faith in his arms as he stood by the railing and watched Edinburgh fade farther and farther away. Watched his homeland fade away, knowing they’d likely never return.

“Christ,” he muttered, blinking fast against the unexpected sting of tears.

Faith stretched her arm out in front of her, towards land, and waved.

“Ye saying goodbye, a leannan?”

“G’bye,” she echoed in a soft, song-like voice.

Ah but he would do it all again in a heartbeat for her, no matter the cost. It was always for her, for her wellbeing and chance at a happy life.

She grinned up at him ‒ not a trace of sickness, though they’d dealt with the sneezing and runny nose for a few days before she was back to her usual self. “Ken you’re mine, a nighean, but ye dinna have to rub my nose in it that yer stomach is as hearty as a sailor’s,” he teased her before moving below deck, where Mary was waiting. His stomach was already rolling and it was only a matter of time…

 July 1746

Claire was writing a letter to Jenny ‒ an update without much news, but she still wanted to keep Jenny apprised ‒ when Murtagh burst into the room, startling her violently.

“Jesus Christ!”

Without giving her much time to recover, he dove breathlessly into the reason for his unsettling arrival.

“I just spoke with a deckhand down at the docks, just come back from Le Havre.” Murtagh’s eyes were aglow and Claire tried to temper the hope buoying in her chest. “He said he remembers someone that looked like Jamie who booked passage on the ship last time they came through here. Said he was sick as a dog the whole trip… and he had a wee lass with him.”

Claire was trembling and her simple question came out in a frantic whisper. “When?”

Murtagh smiled broadly, his chest still heaving as he tried to get the words out without stopping for a breath. “Just last month. They’re in France, a nighean. We found them.”

She hardly recalled how she went from sitting at the desk to being wrapped up in an almost painful hug from Murtagh, shouting with joy to keep herself from bursting into tears.

“What’s going on?”

She pulled away from Murtagh to see Fergus enter the room, concern etched into his face.

“What happened?” he asked.

Claire couldn’t keep the smile from her face even as her vision misted over with tears. Not just for her joy of being reunited with Jamie and Faith, but for Fergus’s as well. “Murtagh found them, love. We’re going home!”

When Fergus ran to embrace her, she nearly stumbled backwards from the impact of it. She cupped the back of his head and held him tight, rocking slightly.

“We’re going home.”

“D’ye have everything then, Mary?”

“I believe so.”

Jamie turned to help Mary up into the carriage. Upon arriving in France, they’d gone first to Jamie’s Uncle Alexander at the Abbey of Ste. Anne de Beaupré, that being the closest and safest place to turn to. Jamie and Faith meant to stay on at the abbey a bit longer, but Mary needed to return to Paris, to her aunt and uncle who would welcome her into their home until her younger brother arrived.

“Wait. No. I did forget something in my room.” Mary turned and stepped down from the carriage. “I’ll be right back,” she yelled over her shoulder.

“It’s alright, lass. We have time.”

“Jamie!”

He turned to find his uncle exiting the abbey, making a path towards him. “Aye?”

“We’re expecting a delivery to the abbey today. Could you help them unload when it arrives?”

“Aye of course.”

It wasn’t long after his uncle had left him that he noticed the wagon jolting down the dirt road towards the abbey.

Nobody saw what spooked the horse pulling the wagon as it neared the carriage.

It happened too fast, the one horse trying to buck itself free of the wagon, and the team of horses hitched to the carriage panicking as a result.

One moment, Jamie was standing beside a carriage and the next, he was flat on his back with a searing pain in his leg and a crushing weight pinning his body down.

And then it all went black.

[goodlucktai]

a little room to grow

@natsumeweek 2021 day 5; freedom/possession

read on ao3

(previous part)

x

Hinata takes one look at them and says, “Holy shit. Get in here, Natoris.”

So they must look pretty bad, then. 

Takashi is uncharacteristically quiet, going right to the sofa and gathering Hinata’s cat up in his arms. 

Hinata watches him for a moment, turns and stares directly into Shuuichi’s face, and then heads into the kitchen to snatch up a takeout menu that she keeps permanently stuck to the front of her fridge under a huge Cinnamoroll magnet.

“Sit,” Hinata says with a jerk of her chin towards the table. She tucks her cellphone between her shoulder and her ear and unfolds the paper menu with a business-like snap. “I’m ordering enough junk food for all three of us, and then you’re going to tell me why you look like that.”

Shuuichi sits. 

Hinata lives with her single mother, who works thirds, and her aunt, who doesn’t work but often has somewhere else to be. It’s unlikely either of them are going to make an appearance tonight.

The TV is on in the living room, playing what sounds like Sailor Moon. Takashi is watching it just because it’s already on, but he’s slowly becoming more invested the longer he sits there—Shuichi can tell from the way his hand on the little cat in his lap slows its petting, the way his round brown eyes become fixed on the screen. The sounds of traffic and rain outside are muted, the outside world hardly existing past what little pieces of it make it through the open window in the kitchen. 

It’s peaceful here. It’s almost home, even.

Hinata puts the phone down, sits across from Shuuichi, and crosses her arms on top of the table. Her silence is expectant.

Shuuichi says, “I don’t think I’m going to university.”

His friend inclines her head, an invitation to go on. 

“The university my father wants me to go to is almost an hour away from here,” Shuuichi says, clenching his fists. “And it wouldn’t be possible for Takashi to transfer there, because someone in the school district administration is a cousin of his or something. Word got around about his behavior, and they don’t think he’d be a good addition to their student body.”

“Takashi’s relatives haven’t had anything to do with him since he was five,” Hinata says hotly. “What the hell do they know about his behavior? He’d be the best thing to happen to that school in the last hundred years.”

Shuuichi, who completely agrees with her, says, “You’re biased.”

“I’m right.” She taps her fingers anxiously against the table. “Let me guess, your dad—”

“Doesn’t see the problem. Told me I was going anyway.” Shuuichi barks a tense, humorless laugh, sitting back and pushing a hand through his hair. “Could you imagine? Me, leaving Takashi in that house, with those people? With no one but ghosts to talk to?”

It was inevitable that Hinata would find out about Shuuichi and his brother’s ‘gift,’ given how much time they spend together and all the odd things Takashi says on a daily basis. The most remarkable thing to come of the ultimate reveal was the solid three months she spent relentlessly trying to bribe, coerce and blackmail Shuuichi into using his paper magic to send her notes during school hours, because they were put in different classes in their third year. 

Now, she frowns deeply, and says, “No. That won’t do. So what’s the plan?” 

“I’m working on it,” Shuuichi replies. 

“I would be okay,” Takashi pipes up. Shuuichi looks up to find his little brother standing by the table with wide, grave eyes. He’s tugging anxiously at the cuffs of his sleeves. The worry on his face doesn’t belong there. It doesn’t fit someone his age. “If you had to go.”

Shuuichi pushes his chair back and lifts his arm. Takashi rounds the table and allows himself to be tucked against Shuuichi’s side snugly. 

“Maybe you would, but I wouldn’t,” Shuuichi says. “I’d miss bugging you too much.”

“I mean it,” Takashi says stubbornly. “I don’t want you to get yelled at anymore.”

“I mean it, too,” Shuuichi replies. “Dad can yell all he wants. You’re stuck with me, squirt.”

Saying it out loud settles something anxious that’s been rattling around in his chest. Knowing what he has to do makes it easier to focus on the steps that come next. For now, he tilts to the side so that he can rest enough of his weight on his little brother that he starts to sag underneath it.

“Nii-san! Stop, you’re heavy!”

“What was that?” Shuuichi says loudly, tilting farther, half out of his chair at this point. “I’m heavy? Is that what you said?”

The doorbell rings, and Hinata says, “No no, I’ll get it, don’t let me interrupt your intricate bonding rituals,” which is a cue that they should stop messing around and go help her carry in the frankly staggering amount of takeout bags a weary-looking delivery boy is wielding on the porch. 

“Munchkin, will you get some glasses and the iced tea?” Hinata asks. “Let’s eat in front of the TV like slobs.”

Takashi slides back into the kitchen, skidding a little too far in his socks and knocking the paper towels off the counter, and Shuuichi snorts. It feels like the first time he’s smiled in a year. 

Hinata touches his arm. “Hey,” she says seriously. “I’m going to visit Isamu on Thursday, and I’m staying for about a week. You two should come with. Stop thinking about all this stuff for a bit and give yourself a break.”

“I don’t want to bother you guys—”

“Try not to be an idiot for once in your life,” Hinata says with an exaggerated air of total exhaustion. “You know it wouldn’t be a bother. Besides, Isamu has a little sister Takashi’s age, and she’s into all kinds of weird stuff. They’d probably get along like a house on fire.”

Shuuichi thinks a week in the country sounds pretty good, actually. He’s mulling it over when Takashi comes running; with a stack of colorful plastic glasses in one hand, a pitcher of tea in the other, and a box of Koala March tucked into the crook of his elbow.

“Can I have these, nee-san?” he asks brightly. He looks nine years old again instead of ninety, all that worry from earlier finally unseated. 

“Oh, I guess,” Hinata says with deep reluctance, as if she didn’t buy them specifically for Takashi in the first place. She doesn’t even like chocolate. “Dinner first, though! Put those koalas where I can see them!”

She cares about Takashi like it’s effortless. Like it just makes sense to make space for him in her home and keep his favorite snacks in her kitchen. Considering the place they came here from, it disarms Shuuichi completely.

“We’ll go with you,” he says without thinking.

“Of course you will,” Hinata replies immediately. “I was only asking to be polite. Now eat your food.”

And that’s how they wind up in Hitoyoshi, Kumamoto, of all places. It’s unmistakably beautiful but Shuuichi only gets a brief moment to appreciate the scenery before Hinata is dragging him—and by extension, Takashi—out of the station to the street outside, where a familiar face is waiting. 

She releases Shuuichi in order to fling herself bodily at Isamu, who doesn’t so much as bat an eye. Hinata is much taller than her boyfriend, which Shuuichi thinks is just typical of Hinata, but Isamu doesn’t care. She could be seventeen feet tall and weigh a thousand pounds and he would still find a way to hold her. 

“Hey,” he says over her shoulder, lifting one hand to wave at the Natoris. “Hug train is pulling out of the station, get yours before it’s gone.”

Laughing, Shuuichi says, “I’m good. Takashi?”

“No, thank you,” Takashi says politely.

“Your loss.” Hinata sniffs, and busies herself with picking up the bags she’d flung to the ground. “Is your sister at home?”

“Mhm,” Isamu says, taking one of Takashi’s bags and slinging it over his own shoulder. “She’s shy. I’m amazed she agreed to meet you guys at all. Bribery was involved.”

Takashi shuffles, glancing sideways at Shuuichi. 

“I’ll bet you two-thousand yen that you’re best friends by the end of the day,” Shuuichi says at once, to make the situation a win-win. That always works.

Sure enough, Takashi holds out his hand. “Deal.”

They shake on it solemnly. 

Isamu gives Shuuichi a deeply approving look and says, “I’ll have to remember that one.”

Tooru and Takashi are actually best friends within about an hour and a half. 

Once the Natoris have been settled into a large guest room and wandered around on a cheap tour of the estate, and Hinata has dumped all of her stuff in her boyfriend’s bedroom, Isamu drags Tooru out of hiding to eat a late lunch with them. 

Tooru shuffles into the chair across from Takashi and makes her polite introduction, and then mumbles that she only has a couple of friends so she isn’t sure what they ought to talk about. Takashi blithely replies that he doesn’t have any friends, because he can see yokai and people tend to think that’s strange. Shuuichi and Hinata are both frozen, holding their chopsticks halfway to their mouths as they wait to see which way this is going to go, but Isamu just takes an unhurried sip of tea.

And then Tooru lunges across the table to seize Takashi’s hands, shouting, “You can see yokai? You have to come meet my grandpa!” and all but drags him out of the kitchen, their lunches left untouched. 

“You might never get your brother back,” Isamu says mildly. “That’s okay, there’s enough space here for two little weirdos.”

“So you believe in ghosts now?” Hinata demands. 

“I don’t believe in things I can’t see for myself,” Isamu replies. He waits a beat, rolling a thought around in his head like a marble, and then adds reluctantly, “But if three people I trust can see them, maybe that’s just as good. I already apologized to gramps for thinking he was just a delusional old man.”

“You did not say that to your grandpa,” Shuuichi says, horrified. 

“I didn’t say it, I just said I was sorry for thinking it.” Isamu sits back in his chair, frowning at his plate. “Tooru never needed any proof. She believes him just because she loves him. I think there’s value in that. Figured I’d give it a try.”

When Shuuichi tracks the kids down later, they’ve multiplied. Sasago and Urihime are supervising as Tooru, Takashi, and two little boys of a similar age chase each other around the garden, a half-dozen little yokai running underfoot. 

Takashi spots him and brightens, breaking away from the game to jump up onto the porch and slam into Shuuichi’s side. Shuuichi ruffles his hair, because it’s already a windswept mess, and it makes Takashi wrinkle his nose in annoyance. 

“Taki-ojisan wasn’t feeling well, so he’s taking a nap,” Takashi explains. He’s flushed from the sun and grass-stained. “We had fun, though. All of his yokai friends had lots of things they wanted to say to him so we played telephone. Mostly they were teasing him, which didn’t seem very nice, but it made oji-san laugh a lot.”

“And who are those two?” Shuuichi asks, nodding at the unfamiliar boys. 

“Tooru’s friends from school. They were coming by to see if Tooru wanted to go to the river with them, and she introduced me.” Shyly, Takashi adds, “They’re nice.”

“Hey!” the russet-haired boy calls over. “Are we going swimming or what?” 

“Can we, please?” Tooru asks, folding her hands together.

His brother gazes up at him with eyes that are big and hopeful, a look that has worked for him for years. Shuuichi shakes his head ruefully. 

“As long as you stay with Tooru, and don’t let your phone get soaked,” he says sternly. “And you know to answer when I call, right?” 

“Right,” Takashi says, without attitude, because that’s one of their most important rules. “Can I take Urihime with me? She’ll throw Satoru in the water if I ask her to, Sasago won’t.”

“For that reason alone, you’re taking Sasago,” Shuuichi replies. 

It’s a noisy circus troupe of kids who finally leave, armed with towels and a bag of snacks pilfered from the kitchen and an entourage of rowdy spirits that only one of them can see. 

Shuuichi leans against the gate, watching them go. He’s wary of the unfamiliar yokai, but with his shiki nearby and clearly unbothered, he doesn’t see a reason to break up the strange congregation. Over the years, he’s had to get used to the way Takashi attracts these things. They come to him like moths to a flame. 

Most exorcists hate yokai, but Shuuichi doesn’t. How could he? His little brother is a medium, and some of the only people he can count on to babysit for him are his familiars. Yokai are so much a part of his life that to hate them would be to fill his heart with hatred, and he doesn’t have room in his heart for all that. It’s too full of other things. 

Hinata joins him by the door. 

“You know,” she says carefully, “I was going to bring this up later, but…the university that Isamu and I are going to is only a half-hour away from here. And the schools here are really good.”

Shuuichi stands in the sun, watches his little brother laugh with children his own age, and exhales.