#honestly kind of changed my life & made me feel seen for the first time in kind of forever

[rockoblanco]

lol talking to a family friend & told him im trying to get diagnosed for adhd bcs the more i learn about it and treatment options the more hope I have that I can have some semblance of a better life for myself and instead of being like “good for you” he’s playing at the “oh but narcotics are stimulants and you’ll get a dependency and you can’t trust big pharma and it’s not worth it.” Like you’re not entirely wrong but you’re incredibly narrow minded & don’t know what you’re talking about if you think that the only medication for adhd are stimulants (there are other drugs that aren’t stimulants that can help to clinically “normalize” an adhd brain), and also like how dare you try and tell me that trying to build a better future for myself where i don’t feel like dying everyday isn’t worth the risk lmaoooooooooo

[shdysders]

a cold table

pairing: vada cavell & reader

summary: in which your anniversary with vada didn't turn out like it was supposed to.

word count: 4.8k

author’s note: proof reading this honestly just makes me throw a tantrum bc it’s ridiculously bad in my view. but i’m posting this in hopes of you liking it.

You and Vada were the epitome of "opposites attract."

On the surface, it seemed almost impossible that you two would end up together, let alone be the type of couple that made people smile just by looking at you.

Vada was the kind of girl who looked like she just grabbed her dad's clothes from the laundry basket and made it work. Putting together outfits that made no sense to anyone but her.

Oversized flannel shirts, baggy jeans and sneakers that had seen better days—she wore it all with an air of confidence that dared anyone to question her choices.

She didn't care about trends, and you couldn't imagine her spending more than five minutes deciding what to wear.

You however, were the opposite—always put together, wearing clothes that you knew looked good on you because you liked feeling confident and in control.

When it came to school, Vada was effortlessly good at everything she tried.

She could ace a test without studying, participate in class debates with barely any preparation, and somehow still find time to be the laid-back, carefree person everyone admired.

She had a mind that worked faster than most, but she didn't flaunt it.

You, on the other hand, had to work hard for your grades. School didn't come easily to you, but you cared enough to put in the effort.

You stayed up late studying, agonized over assignments, and took pride in every hard-earned B+ you received. Your determination was something Vada admired, even if she never said it out loud.

Although she would tease you about how seriously you took school, but when it came down to it, she'd show up for study sessions, sometimes even surprising you by actually helping.

And even though you weren't a natural at school, you made sure she didn't slack off too much, reminding her about deadlines and sometimes dragging her to the library when she'd rather be anywhere else.

Everyone at school saw how different you and Vada were. Some people were surprised when you first started dating, while others seemed to have seen it coming from a mile away.

Vada had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room, even when you were surrounded by people.

She listened to you, really listened, like your thoughts were the most important thing in the world. When you talked about your day, no matter how mundane, she would look at you with those deep, thoughtful eyes and nod along.

And you were always there for her, too. Vada might have been the laid-back one, but she had her moments of doubt, and you were the first person she'd turn to.

People noticed how you two balanced each other out. You didn't try to change one another, but you definitely influenced each other in subtle ways.

You brought some structure into Vada's life, and she taught you how to loosen up a bit. You didn't make a show of your relationship, but the way you naturally gravitated toward each other said a lot.

Everyone could see that, even if you didn't make a big deal out of it, you were good for each other.

And even though people didn't really talk about you and Vada much—there wasn't any drama, no on-again, off-again stuff.

You were just there, solid and steady, the kind of couple everyone figured would last. It was easy to imagine you two growing old together, the high school sweethearts who actually made it.

You thought so, too. For the longest time, it just felt like you and Vada were meant to be, that nothing could really shake what you had.

But that was before you started to doubt everything the two of you had.

Before the incident.

You were in the library that day, tucked away in a corner with your books spread out in front of you. Vada had class, and you were trying to focus on an assignment due the next day. It was just another ordinary afternoon, where everything felt routine and predictable.

Then, out of nowhere, you heard it—a loud, sharp sound that made you freeze.

At first, you couldn't quite place it, but then it happened again, and suddenly the room around you shifted.

The quiet murmur of students working turned into panicked whispers, and then, in what felt like seconds, chaos erupted.

Gunshots.

The next thing you knew, people were scrambling, and you were being pulled down to the floor by someone you didn't even know. Your heart was pounding so hard you thought it might burst. You could barely think, your mind racing with fear and confusion.

Meanwhile, Vada had been in the bathroom, just down the hall from where the first shots were fired. She wasn't alone—Mia, the popular girl everyone knew but no one really knew anything about, was there too.

When the first gunshot echoed through the halls, they both froze, their eyes wide with terror. Without a word, they rushed into the nearest stall together, instinctively pulling their feet up onto the toilet seat to stay hidden.

In the days that followed, everything felt like a blur.

The school was closed, news crews swarmed the area, and you were left trying to process what had happened. You tried to be there for Vada, but it was hard to know how.

She was different—quieter, more withdrawn, like she was lost in her own head. You wanted to help, to say something that would make it better, but nothing felt right. It was like a wall had gone up between you, and no matter what you did, you couldn't get through to her.

Vada barely talked about what happened in the bathroom with Mia.

When she did, her voice was flat, detached, like she was telling a story that had happened to someone else. She wouldn't look you in the eye, and that scared you more than anything.

You could see the fear and anger simmering under the surface, but she wouldn't let it out. She tried to act like everything was fine, but you could see the cracks forming.

You knew she was probably feeling a million things—guilt, fear, anger, maybe even shame for surviving when others hadn't. But she didn't talk about it, and you didn't know how to bring it up without making her shut down more.

Every time you reached out, it felt like she was slipping further away, retreating into a place you couldn't follow.

The carefree attitude that used to define her was gone, replaced by a tension that never seemed to leave. You noticed how she avoided certain hallways, how she liked to be alone now, and how she wouldn't talk about it. It was like she was trying to hold it all together, to not fall apart, but you could see how much it was costing her.

Vada didn't go back to school for a long time.

But eventually, you did go back due your parents forcing you. It wasn't easy, and you felt guilty every day.

The hallways felt different, quieter, like everyone was holding their breath. You went through the motions, trying to keep up with classes and pretending things were normal, but they weren't.

Not for you, and definitely not for Vada. It was hard walking into school every day, knowing she was at home, struggling with things you couldn't fully understand.

You tried to keep things normal, to talk about school, or movies, or anything that wasn't about what happened. But even then, you could feel the distance growing.

At first, the way Vada acted—or didn't act—around you didn't really matter. You understood she was going through something unimaginable.

You were patient, giving her the space she seemed to need, even when she seemed distant or didn't respond much.

What really caught you off guard wasn't the silence or the way she sometimes snapped at you, which you could understand given everything she was dealing with.

What hurt more was when Vada started disappearing.

You'd try to check in on her, but she was often unreachable, and you had this sinking feeling she wasn't just avoiding you—she was spending time with someone else.

You'd seen Mia post something on social media, little hints that made it clear Vada had been with her. It wasn't like you blamed her for needing someone who understood what she'd been through, but it stung all the same.

The fact that she was turning to Mia instead of you made the distance between you feel even wider, and that's when the doubt started to creep in. You knew she was hurting, but you couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of something you weren't prepared to face.

And as the days went on, Vada started staying out late, not telling you where she was or who she was with. The first time it happened, you tried not to worry too much, but it kept happening.

You wanted to talk to her, to see how she was really doing, but every time you tried, she seemed to slip further away.

Then, one night, you decided to go over to her house, hoping to finally have that conversation.

When she opened the door, you could immediately tell something was off. She was unsteady on her feet, her eyes a little glazed over, and you could smell the alcohol on her breath.

She was drunk, and it had shook you more than you expected. This wasn't like her at all.

You tried to ask her what was going on, why she was drinking, but she just brushed you off, slurring something about needing to forget for a while.

It worried you, seeing her like this, knowing that she was hurting so much that she felt the need to numb it with alcohol. You wanted to help her, to pull her back before she fell too deep, but she wasn't letting you in.

Even with everything going on, you held onto the hope that Vada wouldn't forget about your three-year anniversary. It was the one thing you thought might still matter, even with all the changes and distance between you.

Every year, you and Vada had always done something special to mark the day. It was your tradition—whether it was a simple picnic in the park or watching the stars from the roof of your house, it was always something that brought you closer together.

You thought that this anniversary might be a turning point, a chance for both of you to reconnect and maybe find some of what had been lost in the chaos.

You knew things weren't the same as before, but you hoped that this day would remind Vada of what you had, of how much you meant to each other.

You spent weeks planning something small but meaningful. Nothing too extravagant, just something that would show her you still cared deeply and that you wanted to make this work.

You spent weeks planning something small but meaningful. Nothing too extravagant, just something that would show her you still cared deeply and that you wanted to make this work.

You had arranged everything perfectly. After some careful planning, you talked to Vada's parents about your idea, suggesting that they and her little sister Amelia spend the night at Vada's grandmother's house.

You knew your own parents would never approve of the two of you having the house to yourselves on a school night, but Vada's parents were different.

They saw how much you meant to each other and, more importantly, how much Vada needed something to remind her of the good things in her life. They agreed without hesitation, eager to give you both the space you needed.

With the house to yourselves, you planned to cook dinner for her—nothing fancy, just her favorite comfort foods, something that would make her feel safe and loved.

You'd set the table in the dining room with candles, making it feel cozy and intimate.

After dinner, you were going to to watch the movie you saw on your first date. It was your way of trying to bring things back to the beginning, to remind her of who you both were before everything got so complicated.

You wanted the night to be perfect, not in some grand, over-the-top way, but in a way that would show Vada that you still believed in what you had together. This was your chance to reconnect, to pull her back from the distance that had grown between you, and you were determined to make it happen.

As the day got closer, you tried not to let your anxiety get the best of you. Vada had been distant, but you convinced yourself that she wouldn't let this day slip by.

This was your day, after all—the one day you could both take a break from everything else and just focus on each other. You were counting on it, needing it to bring you back together, at least for a little while.

The day finally came, and you had everything set up just the way you imagined.

You spent hours in the kitchen, carefully preparing all of Vada's favorite dishes. The table was set with candles, the lights dimmed just right to create that warm, intimate atmosphere. Everything was perfect, down to the last detail.

The whole thing was meant to be a surprise—you hadn't told Vada anything, just that she should come straight home after whatever she had planned for the day. You imagined her walking through the door, seeing the setup, and maybe, just maybe, something in her would shift back to how it used to be.

But as the minutes turned into hours, the excitement started to fade, replaced by a growing sense of worry.

Vada wasn't coming home.

You waited and waited, watching the food grow cold on the table. You tried calling her, messaging her, hoping for some kind of response, but there was nothing. Each time your phone stayed silent, your heart sank a little deeper.

You knew deep down that just waiting around probably wasn't the smartest idea. Maybe you should've told her, given her a heads-up so she could be sure to come home.

The hours passed and the house stayed empty, you couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in your chest. The night you'd planned so carefully, the night that was supposed to bring you closer, was slipping away, and with it, the hope you'd been clinging to.

You kept glancing at the clock, the numbers glowing dimly in the quiet room. It was nearly 11, and you were clinging to the hope that she'd come through the door any minute.

If she did, you'd just reheat the food, relight the candles, and try to salvage the night. It wasn't ideal, but you were ready to make the best of it.

Then, the front door creaked open, and Vada walked in. You jumped up immediately, eager to greet her.

When she saw you, her expression was a mix of surprise and something else you couldn't quite place. She looked at you weirdly, as if you were weird for being there.

She seemed off—her steps were unsteady, and there was a distant look in her eyes that made you worry.

"What... What are you doing here, Y/N?" she mumbled, her voice slurring slightly. She seemed distant, making you worry even more.

You tried to smile, but it felt stiff and uncertain. "Today's our three-year anniversary," you said, your voice filled with hesitation. "I was hoping we could spend some time together. You know, like we always do."

Vada let out a scoff and began to walk toward her room, her steps slow and uneven. She glanced at you with a weariness in her eyes, as if the effort to respond was too much. Her shoulders were slightly hunched, and she seemed to be struggling to focus on you.

"Do we really still care about this?"

It hit you harder than you expected. You tried to hold onto your initial excitement and positivity, but her tone made it hard to ignore the distance growing between you.

As she took those two steps toward her room, you felt a mix of disappointment and confusion, unsure how to reach out or fix what seemed to be slipping away.

Vada walked closer, and you could smell the strong scent of alcohol on her breath.

As she moved into the light, you noticed her eyes were red and puffy, and it was hard to tell if it was from crying or something else.

You hoped it was tears—something you could understand and help with. The thought of it being anything worse made your heart sink. You stood there, struggling to reconcile the image of her pain with the reality of what was happening.

You took a hesitant step forward and asked, "Are you drunk?"

Vada's face reddened with anger. "Are you seriously judging me right now?" she snapped.

You were taken aback by her reaction, and a wave of nervousness washed over you.

The fact that she was drunk only seemed to make everything worse.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady, said, "No, I was just wondering where you've been. Have you been drinking alone?" Your words trailed off, unsure how to continue as you watched her closely, hoping she'd open up.

Vada's anger seemed to wane as she noticed your genuine concern. "I was with Mia," she said simply, her voice a bit softer.

You hesitated for a moment before asking, "Have you done drugs?"

Vada's face flushed with anger as she spun around, muttering, "Oh my god." She shot you a fierce look, clearly irritated.

You quickly followed her, trying to explain yourself. "I was just worried because you've been spending a lot of time with Mia, and I was just wondering what you two were up to. I didn't mean to... I just wanted to know." You felt yourself rambling, hoping she'd understand your concern.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. "I just need to know if there's something more going on between you and Mia."

You knew the question was direct and might come off as rude, but you were desperate to understand what was happening.

You needed to know if this was the end for you both, if there was something significant you were missing.

Vada's eyes widened in surprise, her face flushing with a mix of anger and guilt. For a moment, she looked taken aback, as if the question had cut through a fog of confusion. Her response was immediate but hesitant,

"What are you talking about? There's nothing between us." But her tone betrayed a hint of uncertainty, leaving you more unsettled than before.

Your curiosity was driven by the fear that everything you had might be unraveling, and you were grasping at any answers that could provide clarity.

You were grasping for understanding, your voice trembling. "I don't know. It feels like you've just—"

Vada cut you off, voice loud enough to make you flinch. "Why do you always have to question everything?" she slurred, her speech thick and unsteady. "Just because we're dating doesn't mean you need to know everything I'm doing or feeling! I'm so fucking tired of you prying into every little thing!"

Her movements were uncoordinated; she stumbled slightly as she spoke, her balance wavering.

The alcohol and possibly drugs made her seem disconnected, her eyes glassy and unfocused. She swayed slightly as she continued, her anger barely masking the haze of her intoxication.

You struggled to keep calm, knowing her anger was intensified by the substances she'd consumed. "I didn't mean to pry," you said, your voice trembling. "I just wanted to understand what's happening with us."

Vada glared at you, her frustration still evident. "What, do you expect me to lay out every detail of my life for you?" she snapped, her voice laced with bitterness.

"Do you want me to explain my feelings all the time, like it's some kind of control?"

You shook your head, your voice trembling as you quietly replied, "No, that's not what I meant." Her words and actions seemed disjointed from what you were trying to address. Vada's gaze remained fixed on you, her anger unyielding and her eyes burning with frustration.

Her words and actions seemed disjointed from what you were trying to address.

You had only been seeking clarity about your relationship, not demanding control or constant explanations. Her response felt out of touch with your intentions, leaving you confused and hurt as you tried to make sense of her accusations.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest, and asked, "What did you guys do?"

You didn't expect anything shocking or out of the ordinary. You just hoped she'd tell you they hung out, talked, maybe drank a little—nothing more.

You weren't trying to accuse her of anything; you just wanted to make sure they hadn't done something reckless or dangerous.

The thought of her putting herself in a risky situation was what really worried you.

That's why you asked—to ease the growing unease in your chest, to hear something that would put your mind at rest, and to reassure yourself that everything was still okay.

Vada's eyes flashed with irritation as she responded, "Nothing."

Her tone was dismissive, but you couldn't ignore the gnawing doubt inside you. You glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time. "Vada, it's almost 11 a.m. You've been with her all night. Of course, you did something."

The air was thick with tension, almost suffocating. Vada's posture stiffened, her shoulders tensing as she tried to process your words. You could see her face flush, her mind clearly racing as she grappled with the confrontation.

She had always hated these kinds of direct confrontations, and it was evident she was struggling to come up with a believable excuse.

For a moment, there was a charged silence. You watched as Vada's gaze darted around, her eyes betraying her panic.

She opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again, her face a mixture of frustration and fear as she searched for a way to deflect or minimize the situation.

Her hands fidgeted at her sides, clenching and unclenching in a futile attempt to steady herself.

The silence dragged on, and you could almost see her internal struggle as she failed to come up with a satisfactory answer.

Her frustration began to bubble over, and her composure started to crack under the pressure. Finally, with a sharp intake of breath, she snapped.

"Fuck it," she burst out, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation.

"I smoked weed with Mia, got high and I slept with her, alright? Is that what you'd like to hear?"

Her admission was blunt and raw, a revelation that she hadn't intended to make but couldn't hold back any longer. The anger in her eyes and the way her voice wavered revealed the depth of her frustration and the extent of her emotional turmoil.

Her voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife.

Her confession hit you like a punch to the gut. The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, and you could feel the room closing in around you.

The shock made it hard to breathe. You tried to stay calm but struggled to process what she'd just admitted. "You slept with her?" you repeated quietly, your voice trembling.

For a split second, you saw a flash of regret in Vada's eyes, as if she realized the weight of what she'd said.

Although that look quickly faded, replaced by her defensive stance.

The moment of vulnerability was brief, almost as if she was trying to erase it before you could fully grasp it. You were left reeling, trying to make sense of her sudden, raw honesty and what it meant for both of you.

Did she actually sleep with her? Or did she just say it out of anger or because she was under influence?

Mia had always been someone you thought was a friend to Vada, someone who was there for her in ways you couldn't be after everything that happened.

You never saw her as a threat, never imagined that Vada's connection with her could be something more than just two people sharing their trauma.

But after every late night that Vada seemed to spend with her,  the doubt had tightened its grip.

You thought you had tried so hard to be there for Vada, to break through the walls she had built up, but now it felt like those walls were never meant to let you in. They were meant to keep you out, while Mia was welcomed in.

The realization that Mia, the girl Vada used to mock for her obsession with popularity and appearances, could have become something more to her, stung.

Vada had always rolled her eyes at the way Mia cared about what people thought, about how she looked. It was something that made you believe Vada and Mia could never be more than friends.

But now, you couldn't help but wonder if all that bashing was just a cover, a way to hide the truth even from herself.

Had Vada's complaints been a way to deflect from feelings she didn't want to admit?

You could feel the tears welling up, your lips trembling uncontrollably. You didn't try to hide it, but it felt irrelevant since Vada seemed to look right through you.

Her gaze was unfocused, her pupils dilated, wide and glassy, as if she was barely seeing you. Her mouth was twisted into a slight, almost mocking smile that made your heart sink even further.

You hoped and prayed that she didn't actually found this funny.

You tried to convince yourself that she would regret this later, that she'd understand the pain she was causing, and that the real Vada—without the haze of alcohol and anger—would recognize how deeply she had hurt you.

But not even your hopes seemed to be on your side as Vada let out a heavy sigh, the anger seeming to drain from her as she suddenly looked exhausted.

"I'm going to bed," she mumbled, her voice still slurred, but now quieter, almost as if the fight had taken all the energy she had left.

She turned on her heel, swaying slightly as she started to walk away.

But then she paused, her hand gripping the edge of the wall for balance, and looked back at you with a cold, detached expression.

"And clean this shit up before my parents get home," she snapped, her voice filled with disgust as she gestured vaguely at the table where the dinner you had so carefully prepared now sat untouched, cold.

"It looks fucking ridiculous." She spat out, her words like shards of glass cutting through you.

You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood, feeling the sting as you glanced back at the table.

Her words echoed in your mind, and as you looked at the half-heartedly arranged candles and the untouched dinner, you had to admit—maybe she was right.

It did look ridiculous.

Without waiting for a response, Vada turned away, her frustration palpable as she stormed off toward her room. The silence that followed was heavy, the flickering candles casting long shadows that seemed to mock the effort you had put in.

You stood there, feeling like a stranger in a house you had once felt so welcomed in, like an outsider in a place you had imagined as your second home.

As you cleaned up like she told you to, the weight of what had just transpired settled heavily on your shoulders.

You packed the leftover food into containers, trying to salvage what you could for Vada's parents. Each movement felt mechanical, your hands moving on autopilot while your mind was consumed by a torrent of thoughts.

You sobbed quietly, tears falling onto the remnants of a dinner that was meant to celebrate love and commitment, that was meant to fix what you guys had.

It wasn't a formal breakup, but the reality was clear.

Vada's behavior, whether from being drunk or high, had made it clear that things between you were over, even if no formal words had been spoken.

There was so much left unsaid, so many questions swirling in your mind.

Although as you walked out the door of the Cavell house, you knew the answers no longer mattered.

[hoe4sports]

How this ends p3

Alexia Putellas x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

Thank you to @karsonromanoff for giving me inspiration and ideas for this part.

A note from the author: This is the third part of how this ends based off of Lewis Capaldi’s how this ends. Read the part’s chronologically. I have changed the age of them becoming a pair to 13, in order to make the story make more sense. Part four coming soon.

Also, fuck me, this was really shit.

Warnings: A lot of talking.

Summary: It’s been a few months since Alexia broke up with you and you handed over your promise ring to her. You and Frido make plans for the summer.

-

You found yourself sat in Frido’s spare bedroom, but by now; it was practically your bedroom. The thing about Fridolina was that you met her ages ago. Frido had been in the room when Alexia had told you that she had to miss out on an event she had promised to be a plus one to. It made you feel sad, but as the good girlfriend you were; you kept it inside. Fridolina had then suggested that she could tag along, which you happily agreed to. It was your first time being invited to such a big prestigious event so having someone familiar there was a big safety thing for you. The event was an invitation only charity event by the Red Cross. To your luck, Fridolina had actually volunteered for the organisation back in Sweden which lead her to be your first reserve.

The pair of you instantly hit it off, and from that moment; you were inseparable. She was what could’ve been described as a soul sister, the kind of friend that just gets you.

It had now been 2 months since you walked out of your Alexia’s apartment with everything you ever knew packed up in cardboard boxes that was shipped off to a storage unit until you could figure your life out. You hadn’t seen Alexia, not that you had made much of an effort. It felt like an emptiness, that slowly had started to close. The costs of it were clear, you stayed away from her part of the town. More so, you had avoided going to the places she would usually go.

Being the girlfriend of a famous athlete wasn’t for everyone, and you sure felt the statement in your bones. You see, you and Alexia had been together since you were teens. She had promised you a ring, a big white wedding, kids and a real house. Instead you got 10 years worth of waiting, a cat and an apartment not suitable for children. People had made up competitions based off of when Alexia would purpose to you, when you would have kids or what your next pet would be. The plans you had were now placed on the back burner.Life had just spun out in the worst possible scenario, but Frido was on a mission to help you heal.

“Y/N! Are you awake?”

You huffed and covered your head with the fluffy pillow hoping she would go away.

“Ugh, you are taking to long. Hide your titties, I’m coming in!”

You looked over at the door which a second later had Frido barging out of it. You giggled at her silly little manoeuvre. Her face showed off a surprised grin before she walked to the window and pulled the curtain apart to let sunlight in. She then turned around and laid down in the big bed next to you, while you kept looking at her.

“How are we feeling today, Y/N?”

“Like shit”

“Y/n..”

“Okay, fine. I’m feeling a bit less empty. More like, half full than half empty actually.”

“Do I sense a sliver of positivity? Have I just discovered something we thought was extinct?” Frido teased with a fake surprised grin, and you playfully shoved her shoulder while staring up at the ceiling.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I’m not sure where to begin. What to do about my job, you know? My job is social media, sadly built on being the girlfriend of a famous footballer”

“I have a solution”

Frido looked mischievous, and you could see the trouble a million miles away.

“Oh god, now what?”

“Until I can find a way to become keen on women so I can wife you up, then I’m sure some of the girls on the team would be happy to bag you! How about Jenni? Cata? Ona? Or, I think I even have the phone number of Leah Williamson and Mary Earps!”

Frido fished the phone out of her pocket and demonstrated by going through her contact list loudly. You just rolled your eyes at her again before giggling.

«Oh, Mackenzie Arnold! No, wait, she’s dating that aussie Girl»

«Okay wait, Ada Hegeberg? No, no. She’s straight and old.”

“Maybe this is the one! Lucy Bronze! No, that would be so weird”

“But, what about Alana Kennedy or Claire? You’d get to hang out with the Mathildas and I’m sure mini’s wife would love a extra set of hands”

“Wait, no, girl! Here, Jessie Fleming! She’s hot, and I’m pretty sure she likes all the photos you post!”

Frido was ass deep in her phone which made you smile at her. You loved her silliness. It always seemed to bring some joy into your life. Her suggestions were out of pure love and you could spend forever listening to her.

“Fridolina, I appreciate the effort but unless you are about to turn gay, then I think I’m taking a break from the whole dating a football player thing; didn’t seem to work out for me”

Frido stuck her tongue out playfully at you, before looking down at her phone again.

“How about that rugby player from the Olympics?Ilona Maher! Oh, wait. Straight. But then, what about the rower from Germany?”

You playfully smacked her in the back of her head with a pillow before Frido put her phone down and sighted. Frido dramatically threw her hands in the air while gesturing dramatically.

“You are gonna be alone until you turn 50! That cannot happen! I wanna be your bridesmaid, i wanna be a moster!

“Well, you might have a chance now since I’m not with alexia anymore. She wasn’t planning to purpose anytime soon, and she was for sure not having kids within the next 5 years. She’s gonna die alone with a bunch of cats while refusing to retire”

You looked at Frido; Frido looked at you while holding her head up. There was a silence before a smile appeared on both of your faces. You both broke into a laugh and laid down next to each other again.

“How about we go to breakfast? I’ll treat you”

You smiled. If there was anything you loved, it was to go out for breakfast. You hadn’t gone out for breakfast since you and Alexia were at least 2 years younger. The truth was that you missed it.

“I haven’t gone out for breakfast in forever. Alexia didn’t want to because of the calories”

Frido furrowed her brows in annoyance of Alexia.

“Fuck the calories, Fuck Alexia, I work hard to be able to have them”

You let out a chuckle.

“I think I have had enough of fucking Alexia for a lifetime, babe”

-

You found yourself sat down by the window in this beautiful little cafe. It had an almost magical view of the park with a river slithering through it and a view of the little playground. The sun was beaming outside, and it was peaking out from the lace curtains hanging from the ceiling.

The coffees you ordered arrived, and you took a sip of yours before breaking out in a disappointed grin. The grin on your face caused Frido to giggle, nearly spilling out the contents of her cup. She looked at your cup, and back at hers before pushing her cup towards you. You took a sip and instantly felt satisfied. Your eyes were practically seeing stars. Frido smiled before accepting your cup as hers. The gesture made your heart swell with pride of your bestfriend. Alexia hadn’t done anything like that for you since you were teens.

“You know how they say that women see it coming? I honestly think that I did see it coming, and that’s why I’m doing okay. It’s weird, but she was spilling away for years. She forgot all dates and dinners, and she would tell me that i could just go to be because she was gonna be home late. Like, it feels like the love died before our relationship did.”

“I get that, isn’t it like an intuition thing? I’m pretty sure i saw a tiktok about it from a psychiatrist earlier.”

“Intuition? Interesting. I guess you could say that, I mean, I’m sad of course. Anyone would be. But then again, I’m okay with her decision. I’ve come to terms with it. If she didn’t love me anymore, then it’s better that she ended things.”

“It’s just so odd, Y/N. I don’t understand why she ended things with you. She makes it seem like you weren’t together for over 10 years.”

“That’s actually funny, she never gave me a reason! Perhaps I didn’t do her laundry well enough or maybe my cooking is shit.”

You frowned a bit when things about all the things you probably did wrong. Frido raised an eyebrow before letting out a short laugh.

“What are you even on about, you mad woman! Your cooking is elite. You have better housewife skills than my mom. Gud, if i ever encounter the woman then i might have to end her.”

You laughed softly at Frido until you noticed that the server was coming over with two steaming plates. She sat them down in front of you and you looked up at Frido who were grinning from ear to ear.

“This looks delish! Devine! If I were out on the deathrow, this would be my last meal.” Frido joked while studying her plate.

“Let me take a quick story of you and the food, pretty please?”

Frido raised her brow at you in confusion. The worry in your pit appeared, but was quickly erased by Frido’s reassuring words.

“Babe, you don’t have to ask. I’ve already said that! You support my work by coming to games, even Sweden games. I support your work by appearing on your socials. Alexia really did rearrange your head, is that why she suddenly never appeared on your socials?”

You nodded before raising your shoulders. Your phone was grabbed from the table and Frido did a wink to you when you turned the frame in her direction. You placed down you phone before stabbing the pancake with your fork and dipping it in the Canadian syrup. The meal went on, and you talked about everything from your work to when Frido’s next international match was going to take place.

“The match is set for July 11th, it’s a home game at first before the return in Ireland.”

You nodded eagerly while having strawberries filling your mouth.

“I’m planning to head out a few days earlier. You know, to see Morsan and Pappa. My grandparents have also been missing me.”

You swallowed down the berries before taking a sip of coffee.

“Oh, how are things with Simon now? Is he still busy being needy?”

“Haha, I guess I didn’t tell you! I ended things with him, it just wasn’t working out”

You raised your brow in confusion before putting your fork down.

“But you were so in love just a few months ago go? What happened?”

Frido shrugged her shoulders while leaning backwards to her chair.

“It wasn’t really love, more like a friendly kind of love. I don’t really think I ever felt in love with him, you know. The butterflies kind of love?”

You nodded at her while giving her a sincere smile.

“Hot girl summer it is then!”

Frido laughed at you before smiling widely. The pair of you started eating before Frido’s head suddenly popped up towards you.

“Girl, you should come with me to Sweden! You can meet my family, I can show you my childhood memories and you can join me to Ireland! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

You looked at her, slightly skeptical.

“Are you sure? Not to be a party pooper, but have you asked the team?”

“I’m sure they’ll just be happy to have a social media specialist joining us! Besides, there are some pretty good looking girls on the squad.”

Frido winked before you giggled again. Nobody could make you laugh like Frido.

-

A few weeks later you were sitting in your temporary bedroom at Frido’s while editing some content for your social media. It was an event you did a few months prior with an organisation that has volunteers who cleans the beaches. It was all done as a part of their summer campaign, and the deadline was creeping up on you. The issue was that Alexia had tagged along on the event, and you watched clips of you filing vlog style while other clips were filmed by a crew.

The clips made you feel numb, but this was work and it was already a done deal. You had already signed it, and Alexia had agreed to it earlier. You made a mental note to send Alexia a text about the video coming out before it was live. It was the last content you had of the pair of you together and quite a few of the huge amount of followers you had, had started questioning it. You had always been all about transparency, but this time it was different. This was personal, and it was something that needed time. At the same time, you felt like the fans deserved honesty from you.

You write down in your book to talk to your PR adviser about how to address it in the meeting that was coming up in a few days. But what was also coming up in a few days, was your trip with Frido. The excitement has finally started blossoming when she got the green light from her national team, and the trip could’nt have come at a better time.

“Y/N, hide your titties, I’m coming in!”

You giggled as Frido walked in with her hands over her eyes.

“You are all clear babe, no titties out. Besides when have I ever had my titties out?”

You asked in a sassy tone. Frido peeked through her hands before looking at you innocently while shrugging. She flopped onto your bed right next to you and pulled out her phone. She sat for a moment while you edited before she broke the silence.

“So, Alexia came to practice today”

You could feel your stomach drop to the ground. Your suddenly good mood turned into clouds and thunder.

“Good for her”

“Well, yes. But that’s besides the point. She asked about you.”

You felt yourself becoming protective and hostile when her name was mentioned. How dare she ask about you when she broke up with you? It made your blood boil, and your cheeks rushed with blood. You closed your MacBook before looking at Frido.

“What did she want?”

Frido looked at you.

“Do you want me to tell you the truth or what you want to hear?”

“The truth”

“She asked if she could come over to talk to you, and she handed me this. She said it belonged to you, that you forgot it behind.”

You looked at Frido with anger in your eyes. It was building up rapidly, like steam was about to come flying out of your ears. You couldn’t form a sentence, not even say a word. Frido looked apologetically at you.

“I’m sorry babe; but this is all yours. I’m gonna hop into the shower, i have dinner with Cata and Caro soon”

She moved to stand on her knees in the bed before she kissed the top of your head and walk out of the room, closing the door behind her. You looked at the box Alexia had sent with her, and you wanted to burn it up. You wanted to destroy it, to throw it off a cliff and to hand it in to a charity shop. Whatever was left in the box was something that you had been perfect without.

You sat and stared at the box for a good 30 minutes debating on whether to open it or not. The decision ended up on leaning into your natural curious side. You pulled the lid of the box before closing your eyes and holding the box infront of your face.

Your eyes opened up with a squint, scared to see what was inside.

The first thing you pulled up was a picture of your cat. Gosh, you thought to yourself. I’m going to get him back.

You reached into the box and found a picture of you and Alexia. It was taken at a water park when you were 14, and your families had decided to do a shared vacation.

Then your hand found a little box.

You picked it up and shook it.

You immediately knew what was inside.

The lid was pushed off.

There it was.

In all its shining glory.

The band of Alexia’s promise ring.

You instinctively closed your eyes.

You picked it up and turned it around to face you while having your eyes closed.

You flipped it around towards you.

You opened your eyes in agony.

Wrong.

It is your promise ring.

Or.

It was your promise ring.

[xxsabitoxx]

Kyojuro’s a fairly innocent guy. At least that’s what he tells himself. He’s focused on his profession, on saving the lives of those who can’t protect themselves. That doesn’t mean he’s a stranger to his hormones, by all means he’s quite familiar with them. They don’t make an appearance all that often, but they’re certainly there.

He could honestly go about his life never having sex and it wouldn’t bother him really… that is until he met you.

A mission gone wrong earned Kyojuro a month's stay at the Butterfly estate. As cheesy as it sounds, when he first woke up in that bed he thought he had died. You were beside his bed, carefully changing the bandages on his wounds. “Oh! Rengoku-Sama! How are you feeling?!” He blinked at you, lips parted as he took in what he believed to be an angel. "You don't need to reply if speaking is difficult right now..." you laughed nervously, moving to finish the half-bandaged wound. Still, he was too stunned to speak.

You quickly grew fond of each other within the first week of his stay. Bringing the pillar his meals and checking his bandages every few hours. That eventually turned into Kyojuro asking you to stay, eat with him, chat with him into the late hours of the night and early hours of the morning. By the second week, it was quite apparent to everyone that the two of you had quickly grown to care for one another.

“Beautiful as ever this morning.” You rolled your eyes, face warming as you set the tray of food on his bed for him. “You’re too much, Rengoku-san.” He smiled, he was still trying to get you to call him by his first name. Though, he had to admit you changing from sama to san in a weeks time was a good start. “It’s the honest truth, I have no reason to lie.” He thanked you for the food, smiling a bit more as you pulled a stool to sit by his bed. “Fine, you’re far too kind.” You countered, hoping it would ease your racing heart. “Really, it’s the truth. When I woke up last week, while you were tending to my wounds, I truly believed I had died and you were an Angel.”

You would have laughed if it weren’t for the sincerity in his eyes. He wasn’t joking, not one bit, and that made you feel warm all over. “You truly find me beautiful?” You commented softly, watching as he began to eat. He nodded, wild hair bouncing as he focused on you again. “How could I not? Your beauty was enough to render be speechless.” You had to turn your gaze, if you kept looking at him you were certain you’d burst into flames. “If it says anything at all, Rengoku-san… I find you very handsome.” You met his gaze, eyes widening significantly when realized how red his face was turning.

By his third week there, the tension between the two of you had grown significantly. “Is something bothering you?” You swallowed, sitting on his bedside to begin dressing the wound that had landed him here. It was making steady progress healing wise but it still needed to be treated and re-bandaged every day. Your fingers ghosted over his side, just above the wound. He turned away, face red as he focused on the bed sheets. You had seen him shirtless every single day for the last three weeks. Now, he couldn't handle it without feeling some type of way. Not embarrassment... quite the opposite.

He wanted you to see more… feel more. He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply before responding. “No… nothing is bothering me.” You weren’t content with that answer, packing gauze over the cut before grabbing more to begin wrapping. “Then why are you so avoidant all of a sudden?” You had to wonder if he felt it too… was that why he was withdrawing? “I…for your own sake.” He grounded out, face flushing a deep shade of crimson as he focused on his hand fisted in the sheets. “For my own sake? That sounds like you’re dangerous.” You teased, ignoring the way his knuckles turned white with the strength of his grip. “Maybe I am… I don’t know how to put this without crossing a line…” you stopped mid-wrap, looking up at him with a quirked brow.

“I think I know where you’re going with this Ren…no… Kyojuro.”

That got his attention back on you, eyes wide and lips parted. Again, he seemed too surprised to speak, so you carried on. "I like you... a lot. More than a friend, much more than that actually…” you wanted to scream how much you wanted him, hands shakily going back to wrapping. “Y/n…” his voice was lower than you’d ever heard it, your eyes peaking up at him through your lashes. “Hmm?” He was looking at you with flushed cheeks, pupils dilated. “I need you.” You didn’t need to ask him to clarify, the intentions were made loud and clear. “You’re still injured…and we’re in the infirmary… someone could hear… or see… I’m technically working…” What you really wanted to say is that it would be indecent of you to get fucked by your patient. “I don’t care. I need you.”

[miley1442111]

all alone-s.reid

-------------------------

-------------------------

summary: spencer doesn't want to get hurt, too bad it hurts you in the process

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

warnings: spencer's a dick in this, reader puts him in his place :)

-------------------------

You were the new office genius. You’d just joined straight out of the academy, but with your genius, and your experience, you’d been brought straight to the BAU. 

What experience, you may ask? 

Your psychiatry and psychology degrees, oh, and the eidetic memory, IQ of 190, and Hyperthymesia you had. 

And the experience you’d had with a certain serial killer. Your father, Jason O’Neill, had been caught a few months ago, and after that you’d been given a full-time position. You got on well with the team, though one clearly didn’t like you. Dr. Spencer Reid. Apparently he was your equal in intelligence, though you never knew, he refused to speak to you. You probably had a more bubbly personality than the BAU regularly hired, but that had been disproven upon meeting Penelope, the Technical Analyst. 

He just didn’t like you. Oh well. It wasn’t going to ruin your life. You didn’t really give a shit. 

He gave a shit. He cared far too much. 

“Spencer, I’ve got your coffee, extra sugar,” you smiled as you handed out the drinks you’d brought the team from the cafe down the road from the small police station. You handed it to him, not waiting for an answer, he never gave one.

 Emily kicked him under the table. “What’s with you two?”

Spencer rolled his eyes and went back to his book. “Nothing.”

“She’s the nicest person on this team Spencer, yet you treat her like she’s just there for decoration.”

“She’s only good for two things, getting coffee, and keeping quiet,” he snapped, not realising you were behind him. You frowned, then hit him over the head with your bag as you were walking past, not sparing him a glance. 

Honestly, Spencer was practically in love with you since the second he’d met you. You were perfect, gorgeous smile, always something kind to say, always an interesting fact on your beautiful lips. He thought he could listen to you talk forever. Your voice made his day. Your eyes on his made him feel things he never thought he’d be lucky enough to feel. 

But he’d never let his guard down again. Not after Maeve. Never again. 

He’d rather be alone, though everyday you became more tempting.

Everyday he wished he could be with you.

Everyday, just like today. 

-------------------------

“Doctor,” Your voice rang through the precinct. “Aaron wants you.”

In recent weeks you’d adopted calling him ‘Doctor’, rather than Spencer. His name from your lips often went straight to his heart, he was a romantic, after all. Now ‘Doctor’ sounded clinical and impersonal. It was maddening. 

He didn’t answer, he just stared at his book, making his stand. 

“Doctor Reid, Aaron wants you,” You stated, standing beside him. “Reid-”

“Say my name,” he deadpanned, staring at his book, but not reading the words. 

“I just did,” you scoffed. “We aren’t school children, go to Aaron.’

You called everyone else by their first name, why not him? He knew the answer of course, but it still didn’t take away from his curiosity. Why had it affected you so much?

“Can you stop being a huge asshole for one day and just treat me like I’m a person and not just something here for you to fuck with? I deserve a spot on this team just like you do,” you boomed, smacking his book out of his hands. 

“I don’t think you do,” he said, standing up to his full height. 

“Well I guess it’s your lucky day because I’m leaving in a week,” you snarled back, then walked off to go back to the rest of the team. 

What? You were leaving?

Spencer caught up to you in 4 quick steps and he pulled you to the side of the corridor, shading you both from prying eyes in a broom closet. “You’re leaving?”

His eyes were frantic and… scared? You’d never seen him look at you with anything other than indifference, so this was quite the change.

“Yes.”

“Why?” He pleaded.

“Why? You are seriously asking why I’m leaving?” you sarcastically sighed. “Gosh, I guess it was that the coffee’s shit, or maybe it was the fact that I work in a hostile working environment!”

“That’s corporate bullshit-”

“No. It’s your bullshit. I have been nothing but kind to you in my few months here and every day it’s the same blank stare and shitty comments. Go fuck yourself Doctor Reid.”

You tried to pry out of the grip he had on your shoulders, but you couldn’t. He stood there, shocked and shameful at his actions. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he sighed, letting go of you to run his hands through his hair. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, you are. Now if you’ll excuse me-”

“I’m in love with you,” he admitted. 

“Pardon?” You squeaked, jaw-dropped. 

“I’m in love with you… a-and I didn’t think it was a good idea because the last time I was involved with someone like that-”

“Spencer, I don’t care. I’m leaving the BAU. For good.”

Spencer’s stomach sank. He was too late. You waited for a minute as he just stared at you. He was trying to process it, realise his mistakes,and find a way to make you stay in a 15 second window. 

“Bye Spencer,” you sighed and left him in that broom closet. 

All alone.

-------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [3]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 2 | Fic Masterlist | Part 4

"I can't believe I finally have a bed of my own..." You whispered as the head maid disappeared from sight, closing the doors to your room behind her. The sheets were practically brand new, and you ran your hand across the smooth fabric, sighing in content before allowing yourself to lay down.

You failed to understand why the previous noblewomen set to marry Seonghwa would choose to escape from this. In your opinion, the general appeared quite generous.

Despite not knowing you or any of his past fiancées personally, he was considerate enough to provide each and every one of you with accommodation and basic necessities. These were luxuries even your own family had failed to offer you. He was already treating you better than anyone you had ever encountered in your life.

You couldn't fight the small smile forming on your face as you looked around your room, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude. In a short span of time, the general had managed to surprise you in more ways than one, and you certainly weren't complaining.

It still made you anxious to think of facing him again, given your less-than-ideal first meeting. He had already accused you of being insincere but proceeded to be kind in his actions.

Honestly, his behaviour left you perplexed.

At the same time, it ignited hope within you—a hope that maybe, in the presence of the supposedly heartless General Park, you could find the opportunity to change your life, for he had shown you more mercy than your own family ever had.

"Happiness... can I find it here?"

The words escaped your lips in a soft whisper before the unfamiliar soft sheets of your bed welcomed you into a deep slumber. Having grown used to sleeping on the floor back home, the sudden luxury brought an unexpected level of comfort, lulling you to sleep like magic.

Unbeknownst to you, Jongho and Eunsook had stationed themselves just outside your quarters, hoping to catch any suspicious conversations that might indicate your actions were part of a scheme orchestrated by your father to undermine their master. To their relief, they heard nothing of the sort.

"Sounds like she's fast asleep. That was quick." The assistant muttered, a faint smile playing on his lips.

The head maid nodded, her expression softening, "Can you blame her? She travelled all this way by herself. Oh, Jongho, you should've seen her earlier... She was genuinely pleased with this room. Not only that, she apologised for having nothing with her and even thanked me as if I had saved her life, all because of dinner."

Eunsook raised a brow as the younger man didn't appear overly surprised by the revelation. He sighed, "I believe you, all right. When I found her, she was wandering by the front doors alone, without servants or palanquin bearers. And that's not the worst; she bowed back to every servant on the way to the main hall."

The elderly woman nodded eagerly, "Yes, yes! She even bowed to me; it was the wildest thing I have ever seen!"

Jongho shook his head, "Something is definitely up; we have to find out what's happening. I don't believe for a second that the minister would have been okay with his own daughter being treated like this."

Eunsook had to agree.

"Whatever it is, I won't lie that I'm hoping for her to be our mistress for good. She's the first noblewoman not to yell or speak rudely to me. Having one of master is enough; I'm sure we could all use a kind and soft-spoken mistress around here."

The assistant didn't have to say anything for the head maid to understand that he, too, wished for the exact same thing. Despite their loyalty and attachment to the general over the years, they couldn't ignore the fact that his unpredictable anger issues turned him into a ticking time bomb. Tiptoeing around him and walking on eggshells had become exhausting on most days.

Before they could continue their hushed conversation, a servant approached them with wide eyes, "Jongho! Eunsook! The master has summoned you both to his study!"

The two gasped and nodded, "R-right, we'll be there at once!"

Speak of the devil.

Seonghwa's typically composed demeanour seemed overtaken by frustration as he glared at his desk. If looks could kill, the poor piece of furniture might have been sliced in half. The two employees exchanged a wary glance, inhaling deeply to steel themselves before entering the study, "Master, you called for us?"

They stood straight as a plank, anticipating the impending outburst from the general.

But it never came.

"I'm confused." The two blinked, awaiting further explanation.

Yeah, so are we.

"I don't like being confused because I'm never confused. Does she even know who I am? The audacity of this woman..." He muttered lowly, clenching his fists.

It infuriated him that he found it difficult to read you. Usually, he prided himself on being able to see through almost anyone, and this situation wounded his pride, sparking anger within him. How dare you waltz in here and change all that? Who did you think you were? But what he despised even more was his struggle to be angry with you. The innocence in your eyes was impossible to deny.

And he hated it with a passion.

Finally lifting his gaze, he bore a glare into his assistant and head maid, "You two, I want you to tell me every single thing that happened when you were with her."

If Seonghwa believed his confusion would be dispelled after hearing what his aide had to share, he was wrong. He was left feeling more confused than ever.

"She was at the entrance... by herself?"

"Yes, sir."

"Without any servants or palanquin bearers?"

"Yes, sir."

"And she... bowed to all the servants?"

"Yes, sir."

Narrowing his eyes, the general pushed himself off his seat, scoffing lightly in disbelief, "I don't know what she or her father is trying to get out of me, but I will not be foolish enough to walk into their trap. This must all be part of her act; I'm sure of it."

However, the reminder of her currently being at her quarters brings a devious grin to his face, "She can pretend all she wants, but no sane person will willingly agree to stay in The Cold Palace. Tell me, Eunsook, I want to hear all about her reaction to my masterpiece. Oh, it must be priceless."

The head maid cleared her throat, recognising that her master might not appreciate her response, "W-well, you see, master—"

"No, wait, don't tell me," He held up a hand, stopping her abruptly, "I want to hear it from her myself. Get her to the dining hall on time, Eunsook. I'm sure it'll be wonderful; our first and last dinner together."

All the previous candidates for marriage were given quarters that, despite being less than ideal, were still superior to yours. And they all fled at the mere sight of it, unable to endure even a single day. No matter how skilled you were at acting indifferent, the general was convinced that The Cold Palace would likely be your breaking point. He imagined you gaping in disgust, desperately trying to tolerate it for the time being.

Oh, he couldn't wait to see you finally break character and unleash your frustration, berating him for the mistreatment and expressing your disappointment in him. He looked forward to enjoying the view of your back to him, storming away from his estate, never to return.

The Cold Palace has to be a foolproof plan.

It has to be.

Except it really wasn't.

Jongho knew that. Eunsook knew that.

Every other servant in the estate knew that.

But Seonghwa didn't. And that was a problem, a huge one. The assistant and head maid feared for your well-being. They were well aware that pride held great significance for their master, and your presence was undoubtedly going to bruise it severely.

Knowing the general, he wouldn't let you off the hook easily when that realisation hit. They worried about the drastic measures he might take to scare you into leaving.

Eunsook couldn't linger on those concerns for long as the kitchen staff alerted her that dinner preparations were nearing completion. Letting out a deep sigh, she rushed to your quarters, hoping to assist you in getting ready and ensuring you wouldn't be tardy. The last thing she wanted was for you to further get on the general's bad side.

It struck her then that she was already developing a sense of protectiveness toward you, even though she hadn't known you long or well enough to warrant such feelings. Despite her master's adamant belief in you putting on an act, she had witnessed firsthand to know that it was far from the truth.

Approaching the garden path leading to your quarters, she addressed the servants working there, "Has the mistress sought assistance from any of you?" They shook their heads, "No, she hasn't. In fact, she barely made a sound since her arrival."

"Really? I expected her to at least request a bath after the long journey she took to get here. No matter, I'll ensure she's prepared for dinner." The head maid shook her head, finding your behaviour less surprising with each passing moment.

Pausing at your room's entrance, she called out cautiously, "Mistress, may I enter, please?" She heard a faint shuffle and observed your silhouette through the thin paper walls as you approached, "Hold on, I'll be right there!"

She was taken aback to see you hurrying over just to open the door for her, "Oh dear, mistress! All you had to do was grant me permission, and I would have entered. There's no need for you to come all the way just to open the door for me, please!"

The small, sheepish smile on your face had affected the elderly woman more than you realised, her heart melting as she found you incredibly endearing.

"I'm sorry; I'll learn to do that next time."

Eunsook sighed, "You have nothing to be sorry for, mistress." She murmured, observing you with a motherly softness in her eyes.

She wondered if this was the reason the minister had kept you hidden all these years. Perhaps he wanted to shield you from the cruel world due to your innocence and precious nature. But the puzzle pieces didn't fit when she recalled how Jongho had found you – alone and abandoned.

So, what was really going on?

What was going through the minister's mind, and what exactly did you experience to turn out like this?

"Well, I've come to let you know that dinner is almost ready." She observed your face light up at the mention of food, and a simultaneous growl emanated from your stomach, prompting her to chuckle at the embarrassed blush dusting your cheeks.

Why didn't you just ask the servants around to bring you a snack if you were so hungry? Eunsook wondered to herself.

"I'm also here to assist you in getting ready, in case you'd like to change or anything." You shrugged and shook your head, and she recalled your nearly empty duffel bag. Oh dear, you didn't even have clothes to change into.

"That's alright. Let me just tidy up your hair and give your makeup a little touch-up, and we can go. How does that sound, mistress?" You nodded, responding softly, "Yes, please."

The head maid resisted the urge to coo out loud as she led you to the vanity table in your room. She grimaced as she took in the condition of the mirror in front of you, wearing out just like all the other furniture in here. The reflection was no longer clear due to its old age, but you remained unfazed as you waited for her to work her magic.

Not wanting to further waste any time, Eunsook was quick in her movements as she helped comb up the strands of hair that came loose and added some more foundation where your previous makeup was smeared from your little nap.

"There, all set. You look beautiful, mistress."

Your smile faltered slightly at that before you thanked her for the compliment, suddenly being reminded that she would not be thinking that for long. She would no longer consider you beautiful when she sees you without all these enhancements.

"Come, let me take you to the dining hall before we're late." You trailed behind her obediently, your heart thumping in excitement just thinking about what they could be serving for dinner.

Your worries could wait.

For now, just for now, perhaps you could finally experience what it was like to enjoy a nice and warm meal.

Or not.

Your steps slowed down a bit when you caught a glimpse of your new husband already waiting in the hall, "I-I'm having dinner with General Park?" The elderly woman wore an apologetic smile as she nodded, "Yes, mistress."

Of course.

Who else would you need to look beautiful for, if not the general?

Eunsook wished she could warn you of what was to come, but even she had no clue as to what her master could possibly say or do tonight. She could only pray that he goes easy on you, "Let's go."

Entering the dining hall, you felt a mix of nerves and anticipation. The grandeur of the room was overwhelming, and you couldn't help but steal a glance at the general. His stern expression didn't reveal much, leaving you wondering about his thoughts.

The head maid bowed before presenting you, "Master, Miss Jang has arrived for dinner."

Seonghwa nodded in acknowledgement, "Ah yes, I've been waiting. Come take a seat, wife."

"Good evening, my lord." You bowed and approached the table cautiously, settling beside him. Your eyes widened as you marvelled at the colourful dishes laid out, and the tantalising aroma made it difficult to resist the urge to dive in.

Although you hadn't shared any meals with your family, you knew enough to remember the basic etiquette: the eldest or head of the house should start eating first. So, you patiently watched his untouched chopsticks, hoping he would initiate the meal.

To say he was merely annoyed by your apparent fixation on the food would be an understatement. The fact that you remained so nonchalant, especially after spending half a day in that pathetic excuse for a room, irked him. You should have been making a big fuss about it by now.

Instead, there you sat, seemingly drooling at the sight of the food but still polite enough not to start eating first. Your impeccable manners were getting on his nerves.

Still keeping up with the act, huh?

Smirking, he moved his hands from his lap to the table. Your immediate straightening up betrayed your anticipation, thinking he was about to grab his utensils. However, your disappointment was palpable when he only moved to rest his elbows on the table, intertwining his fingers.

"So, tell me, wife. How do you like your new quarters?" He pressed, a sly grin playing on his lips.

This is it; this is your chance.

This was the moment, your opportunity to convey your gratitude for his generosity. Maybe, by expressing your thankfulness, you could open a path for him to consider accepting you more readily as his wife. And then, both of you could finally savour these delightful dishes together.

Unlike you, Eunsook, in her corner, wasn't as optimistic. She tensed immediately, sensing that the impending drama was just about to unfold with his question.

With a wide smile, you started, "Oh, I couldn't be happier with it, my lord. I want to thank you for your thoughtfulness. The room is beyond my expectations; it's everything I could ever wish for and more. It was so comfortable that I'd already had a good rest before coming here."

Seonghwa's grin wavered at your words, his eyes narrowing dangerously at you. You blinked, perplexed by the threatening glare he directed your way despite the genuine sincerity in your words.

After what felt like an eternity, he scoffed in disbelief before growling, "Are you mocking me, Miss Jang?"

You gasped, shooting up from your seat immediately. You shook your head furiously, "N-no, I wouldn't dare! I meant every word—"

But he leaned back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest in amusement, "Is that right? This must all be very entertaining for you, huh? I know you're only here because your father has some ulterior motive. You sure are a skilled actress; I see now that the minister has trained you well all these years. And now you're finally old enough to come carry out his dirty work for him."

Feeling wrongfully accused, you fell to your knees and cried. You wished he would just listen to you, "Please, that's not true..."

Eunsook could only lower her head in pity, wishing there was anything at all that she could do for you, but intervening might get her into a whole lot of trouble. She squeezed her eyes shut and hoped for the best.

Rising from his seat, Seonghwa approached and tilted your chin upward, forcing you to meet his gaze, "You can repeat those words all you want, my dear. I didn't expect you to come here and admit to me that easily. I know you and your father are scheming something. Feel free to send him my regards. Tell him General Park is not foolish enough to fall for this little act."

Tears streamed down your face as you bowed all the way down, pressing your forehead against the cold floor tiles, pleading, "I beg you to believe me; that's not true at all."

Suppressing the subtle pang in his chest at the sight of your desperate plea to clear your name, he maintained his resolve, telling himself not to be easily swayed, "If you're so eager to prove your innocence, then you can remain there on your knees all night."

Detecting his head of maid's intention to step in, he shot the elderly woman a warning glare before she could utter a word, "I've lost all my appetite. Dispose of all the food here."

You sobbed against the floor, once again reminded of why they called him the cold-hearted general as you listened to Eunsook let out a strained, "Yes, master," before hearing the sound of your new husband's footsteps stalking angrily out of the dining hall.

All your hopes of sharing a meal and gaining his favour crumbled in just a moment. Even far from your family home, your father still had the means to torment you. You acknowledged that Seonghwa's struggle to trust you was influenced by the minister, and your mysterious identity only complicated matters. A sense of heartbreak overwhelmed you as you questioned if anyone would ever believe your side of the story.

If you were to reveal that the precious eldest daughter of the Minister of Military Affairs had been confined and subjected to torture like a prisoner in her own home for all these years, who would believe you?

The servants exchanged sympathetic glances as they hastily cleared the table, removing all the untouched dishes as per the general's directive. Despite their desire to help you, they understood the consequences of defying their master's orders.

Remaining on the ground even after the other servants left the dining hall, Eunsook knelt beside you, gently trying to lift you up by your shoulders, "Come, mistress. Let me take you back to your quarters."

"N-no! I m-must remain here all night t-to prove my innocence," You whimpered, shattering the elderly woman's heart once more, "Mistress, I'm sure master doesn't really mean that. Perhaps he was only saying it out of anger."

Despite her efforts, she couldn't persuade you to stand. You remained resolute, anchored to the spot. However, Eunsook worried for you. You hadn't taken a single bite of food since your arrival, and it had been who knew how long since your last meal. The idea of you kneeling there all night seemed ridiculous. Surely, her master didn't mean it literally.

« Preview of Part 4 »

Jongho's eyes widened upon hearing the head maid's latest update, "She's still kneeling in the dining hall?"

Deciding they couldn't let this continue, the two staff members gathered their courage and approached the general's private quarters, only to find the room empty. To their surprise, Seonghwa was still in his study at this late hour, an unusual occurrence as he was typically asleep by now.

Perhaps the guilt was keeping him up.

"S-sir, may we enter, please?" The assistant called out, breathing a sigh of relief when their master broke out of his trance and nodded, "What is it? Why are you both still up so late?"

Eunsook nervously cleared her throat, "Master, we wanted to let you know that Miss Jang hasn't moved from her spot in the dining hall since dinner."

The general's eyebrows shot up in surprise before he composed himself, "What a fool. Did she genuinely believe that kneeling all night would prove her innocence? She'll have to do much more than that." He rolled his eyes, but his employees could see through the façade.

"Take her back to her quarters before she frightens the servants who will be there to prepare breakfast soon."

Just a heads up, I apologise if the next part takes slightly longer to come out because I've fallen sick since yesterday. Even for this part, I was working on it between my rest.

Aside from that, thank you for 700+ followers! And as always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[i-prefer-base-twelve]

Ford x Reader x Sleep

It's not so much that you awaken as you're drop-kicked into consciousness. Heart racing, disoriented--it's still dark--Ford is sitting up beside you, panting, clutching the duvet to his chest.

Shit. Something's wrong. Fire? Intruder? "Ford?" You croak.

Ford looks in your general direction, confused. Then his eyes focus and his shoulders sag. He takes a ragged breath and smooths your hair.

"Nothing," he mumbles, voice shaky. "Nothing. Go back to sleep."

You frown up at him. "Bullshit," you say. "What's wrong?"

He looks out the window. Or, he would be looking out the window if the curtains weren't drawn. "Just a bad dream."

You prop yourself up on an elbow. Ford told you he had nightmares sometimes, but he's never startled you awake before. "It must have been pretty intense," you say. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Silence. He stares hard at nothing. "You--" he stops, clears his throat, tries again. "You… he…" Ford closes his eyes. "He… possessed you."

No need to ask who HE is. Your stomach knots up on Ford's behalf. "Hey. Look at my eyes," you say softly, reaching out to place a hand on his cheek. "It's just me in here. He's gone. Forever."

Ford scowls, shoving your hand aside. "You think I don't know that?"

You flinch back. That stings, even if you know he's only angry at himself. "Hey, asshole, I'm trying to comfort you here. Either let me try or let me sleep."

At that, he grunts and lays back down, facing away from you. You stare at his back, wondering what you should do; you've never seen him like this and you might have just fucked it up. Before you can decide on a course of action, he rolls over to face you and rolls you onto your side and pulls you tight against his chest. You can feel his shaky breathing, his pounding heart.

You try to turn and look at him, but his arm around you is so tight you're pretty much pinned. If he doesn't calm down soon, you're gonna have bruises. And not the fun kind.

He clearly doesn't want to talk about it, so that leaves distraction. Distraction, distraction… ah! You say quietly, "Did I ever tell you about the moment I decided not to be a scientist?"

He shifts, arm loosening fractionally. "I didn't know you'd ever considered it."

You smile. This is totally going to work. "Yeah, I actually entered college as a chemistry major. There I was, all of 18 years and two weeks old, in organic lab, WAY over my head--"

"Organic chemistry as a freshman?"

"Oh. Yeah. I guess I tested out of a bunch of credits."

"You never told me that." There's a gentle admonishment in his voice. You try to find a tactful way to say I don't talk about my college days because I'm an adult and finally decide on, "It never came up. Anyway, there I was in my first real chemistry lab, surrounded by all this strange equipment, and I was just trying to get the melting point of something." Which you do by waiting for a chunk of it to melt and then reading a thermometer. Science is not always complicated. "I turned the heat on, but I knew this thing had a pretty high melting point, so I started writing up my report while I was waiting, but then I got distracted and forgot I was heating it up… until the machine got so hot the thermometer blew out of its housing and shattered against the ceiling."

Silence. Ford's body, pressed against you, begins to twitch with laughter. "You FORGOT?"

You shrug as best your pinned shoulders will allow. "It scared the bejezus out of the whole class. Thank god it wasn't a mercury thermometer! No one was hurt. But that's when I knew I wasn't cut out for life in a lab. Changed my major to computer science the very next day."

You feel Ford shake his head behind you. "Too bad. You would have made a great chemist."

You laugh at that. "Clearly I would not have! Anyway, no regrets. I made it through the CS program without breaking a single machine. Wait, did I… no. The printer broke itself. I just put it out of its misery. Which was honestly one of the more fun times I had in college..."

"Mmmm," Ford says. Your scheme is working; he's falling asleep. You stop rambling as you feel his arm go slack.

You open your eyes to find yourself in the middle of a chem lab. The air burns your throat and stings your eyes. The tables around you are full of improbable setups, Rube Goldberg glassware hosting all manner of sickly-colored liquids. As you look closer, you notice the liquids are flowing the wrong way through the glassware.

You jump at the sound of glass shattering on the floor behind you. As you turn around, the lights flicker. A voice speaks, seeming to come from all around you and inside your head all at once.

"AND JUST WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

You jerk awake, feeling cold sweat on your face. Ford's arm still drapes across your stomach, his breathing still slow and easy. Good, you didn't wake him up. You try to match his breathing, focus on the physical sensations of his warmth and weight against you, try to calm down. Dreams, man.

The next thing you know, a big hand is smoothing your hair. You force your eyes open to see it's morning. Ford is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you intensely. This isn't bizarre exactly, but it's not his normal pattern. Usually when you wake up, he's either long out of bed and knee-deep in mad science, or snuggled up next to you. You make an inarticulate questioning noise.

"I… made you coffee." He's strangely bashful, gesturing at the mug on your nightstand. Next to the mug is a plate of peanut butter toast and strawberries, aka the most breakfast you ever eat.

Ford brought you breakfast in bed.

Ford has never brought you breakfast in bed before. You didn't know he was even aware of breakfast in bed as a concept.

You sit up, turning to lean against him as you reach for the coffee. "Thanks," you say, not managing to keep the confusion out of your voice. He puts an arm around your waist and scoots closer.

Ford stays quiet, unusually quiet, while you drink your coffee. After nearly half a cup, he finally speaks. "No one's seen me like that before." He looks back to you, eyes locking onto yours. "I hope you don't think less of me."

You set your mug on the table and turn to face him. "Think less of you? No, of course not, why would I? Nightmares are scary."

He scowls, looking away. "You didn't deserve to be treated like that."

It finally clicks. He's embarrassed about waking up in a panic, and wants to apologize for snapping at you. You sigh, putting a hand on his knee. "Seriously, it's no big deal. You were freaked out, you didn't mean anything by it. Honestly, your reaction was pretty standard. I dated one guy who would actually wake up screaming--"

He looks at you then, pinching your hip playfully. There's the slightest smirk on his face. "I don't need to know about your exes."

You smirk back at him. "Point being, don't worry about it. I barely even remember waking up."

He looks relieved. "Were you able to get back to sleep ok?"

Were you? Now that he mentions it, you vaguely remember having an unsettling dream of your own. What was it…? Maybe you're just remembering feeling unsettled on his behalf. You nod and say, "Out like a light."

"Good." He takes your hand in his and squeezes it. And then, after a pause, he adds, "You know, before you, I would just spend the rest of the night awake. Pacing up and down the halls or writing in my journals. But with you…" he shakes his head, smiling. "I went back to sleep. You're a gift, and I intend to appreciate you better in the future."

You smile at him. "I like the sound of that."

He moves in to kiss you, and you gladly let him.

[minimujina]

you make me so nervous !

sᴛᴀʀʀɪɴɢ. heizou, albedo, wanderer/scaramouche x f!reader

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. reader has a dendro vision, and when you get flustered or injured your powers go crazy :0

ᴄᴡ. sickeningly sweet fluff, wanderer is given a name, wanderer’s is a bit different than the other two so specific warnings are right before his, ARCHON QUEST SPOILERS!1!

heizou had never met someone so easy to read in all his days of observing people.

the mere presence of the detective seemed to fluster you impossibly—and your dendro vision would react in accordance, much to your dismay.

take the time that you decided to go for a mid-morning walk—something you didn’t usually do. you were looking for easy ways to change things up, bored of the stagnancy that so often came with a rigid schedule.

upon seeing you, the detective was surprised, since he knew that you were usually in your garden at this time of day. he shrugged it off, though, approaching you eagerly. and i’m not saying that he had the intention of frightening you, but that’s exactly what i’m saying.

“my dear sweetflower!” heizou exclaimed, startling you with an obnoxious poke on the shoulder. sweetflower was an endearing nickname he’d come up with when he first met you. “what brings you here at this fine hour?”

mischief and arrogance seemed to just seep from his voice. but still, he was a good friend to you, and a good person. just a bit of a bastard.

you gave a loud yelp and a flinch—he had to steady you with his arms amidst good-natured laughter to keep you from smacking him.

after you’d calmed down and he stopped laughing, heizou noticed something peculiar and novel: flowers had begun to bloom in your hair. by the time heizou had released you from his grasp, the mess atop your head had become more than abundant with clusters of posies.

you were none the wiser, since you were too busy trying to sort out your muddled thoughts—but heizou brought the issue to your attention with a silvery hum and a grin, reaching behind your ear to pluck a single leaf from its vine.

“did i scare you that much, dear?” the detective’s voice was teasing, but kind, and his smile more than reached the marks under his eyes. he was clearly amused at this predicament of yours.

the next time, however, had nothing to do with you being startled. you simply took notice of heizou in the distance—and the next thing you knew, flowers were sprouting up like weeds all around you. the detective hadn’t spotted you, though, so you bunched up as many of the fresh sumeru roses and sweetflowers in your little arms as you could, scurrying away in a panic.

ever since then, this problem persisted relentlessly. you’d learned to control it more with time, but every chance encounter with the detective spelled your inevitable embarrassment—at least one plant would spring up somewhere in the vicinity, and more often than not it would be in your own hair. heizou honestly wasn’t sure what to make of it—he might have been good at discerning motives and teasing out evidence, but for the life of him, he couldn’t unravel your seemingly complex feelings about him.

it was the beginning of the end when the detective stumbled upon a peculiar path of flowers and droopy vines. it was painfully obvious that they did not belong there among the sakura, and heizou had a feeling that he knew just who the culprit was.

after following the trail for no more than a few minutes, he was confronted with an amusing sight—you, sprawled on the ground, snarled in the sheer abundance of plants that seemed to have tripped you. he wondered what you’d been running from that made you so afraid.

heizou flashed you a smug smile, but he leaned over to lend a hand anyways. and yet, more flowers sprouted to shroud you from his view, as if tucking you away. but the glimpse of fear he’d seen in your eyes was enough for him to finally come to a conclusion—it was him you had been running from.

but.. you weren’t scared of him. this he knew.

you liked him.

oh, what an ego boost this was for shikanoin heizou.

he sighed, almost dreamily. “oh, my little sweetflower, you can come out now—i know about your little crush on me, so there’s no need to keep running away.”

when you made no move to emerge, heizou smiled to himself. of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

“love,” he mused, “what i’m saying is that i—“

suddenly, heizou’s throat tightened. it came out of nowhere; he was so confident when he started, and this went so smoothly in his head. so why did his tongue suddenly feel so heavy? why did his chest burn the way it did?

it took the detective a moment to collect himself—he found it difficult to quell the sudden thought that maybe he liked you even more than he realized.

deep breaths, detective.

“what i mean to say is..”

another deep breath, heizou.

“i find you rather.. endearing.”

he cleared his throat, unconsciously stuffing his hands in his pockets. oh, if only he could see himself—he was being so obvious that even an amateur could see right through him.

“well, that is—i like you.”

he hadn’t meant to say it so plainly, but it seemed that his words, however hesitant they were, gave you the push of courage you needed.

the flowers parted ever so slightly to reveal your eyes again, less terror-filled, though still quite shaken.

but what was most surprising was the detective’s expression—you caught it for only a split second, but it was there. his eyes were blown wide, as if he were incredulous with himself. but a whimsical grin that could fool anyone quickly replaced all evidence of that uneasiness.

“…really?” you whispered, voice thinned and small, as if you’d swallowed your confidence.

a baffling, earnest sincerity crept into heizou’s expression—of all the times he’d been able to conceal his true feelings, this was not one of them.

“really.” his response was firm, his gaze softer than it had ever been.

“and..” you took a deep breath, looking anywhere but at the detective. “…you aren’t bothered by the whole…flower thing?”

heizou laughed mirthfully—“why would i be?”

under the cover of your plants, you fiddled with the petals of a sumeru rose as you spoke. “i don’t know.. it’s just embarrassing, is all. i thought it was overbearing.”

“oh, dear,” heizou tutted. “was it blatantly obvious? yes, yes it was”—your expression turned sheepish—“but overbearing? you? never.”

heizou reached out to part the sea of plants away from your face so that he could properly see you, letting one hand linger to lift your chin. “ah, there’s my lovely girl,” he grinned. “now, let’s get you out of here, shall we?”

and with that, your shaky little hand emerged to place itself in heizou’s steady palm, and he pulled you up, watching as the leaves and florets spilled all around your form like water.

and for once, heizou had nothing to say. all he could think about was the feeling of your small hand in his own, and how beautiful you looked in that moment. if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were the long-departed goddess of flowers herself.

heizou very promptly decided that he could not tolerate the way his heart was acting. no, no, no, it was simply out of character. you were the one who was supposed to be flustered—not shikanoin heizou, the tenryou commission’s top detective, a young and brilliant genius whom nothing could unnerve.

the detective tugged you forward suddenly, fastening his hands around your waist as he stooped down—but he froze just before he reached your lips. he seemed to study you, admiring the brightness in your eyes, the dancing reflection of sunlight.

“wanna make out?” he asked out of the blue, a shit-eating grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

what you wanted was to slap him for his god-awful sense of humor.

but also yes, you did want to make out.

you decided to make this very clear by grabbing a fistful of his shirt and just making the move yourself for once. from the way he smiled into your lips, your intuition told you that he liked your spontaneous impatience.

when albedo discovered that his own presence regularly caused your vision to malfunction, his curiosity surrounding you became insatiable.

he would hum, stepping around you in a measured circle while he observed the various flowers that had sprouted from your vision. a thick vine had found itself stuck to the surface of your vision, almost as if it were trapped in the glass, not fully emerged. it trailed all the way to the ground of albedo’s workshop, branching off into more vines with sweet flowers, roses, and all sorts of pretty blossoms.

“how peculiar,” the alchemist murmured. “i’ve never seen anything quite like this before.”

yeah, me neither, you wanted to mumble and grouch, but you settled for a subtle pout instead.

albedo hummed thoughtfully again before completing a full circle around you, coming to face you eye-to-eye. you could see the mischief in his gaze, and your tummy fluttered with nervous anticipation—one could never know what the chalk prince would do next.

“i wonder… could we possibly encourage the vine to grow more? perhaps then it wouldn’t be stuck—which, again, is fascinating in itself.”

albedo was staring at you so intensely that you couldn’t make yourself meet his gaze. he continued nonetheless, “i’ve really never heard of someone’s powers emerging straight from the vision and manifesting that way. you are very curious—very curious indeed.”

seeing your blank expression and watery eyes, albedo decided to continue with his procedures in a more considerate fashion. he understood that you probably felt scrutinized, but he didn’t mean it that way, truly. he was filled with genuine curiosity about this predicament—though perhaps he did have an ulterior motive hidden somewhere.. but who’s to say?

“let’s go ahead and see if we can make it grow, then, shall we?” oh, there was so much mischief in his voice, and you did not like it one bit, nor did you like the way your stomach buzzed.

albedo suddenly leaned down very close to the side of your face—close enough that you could hear his gentle breathing and feel it fan across your blushy cheek.

“would this suffice to do the trick?” he asked lowly; you spotted his subtle grin out of the corner of your eye.

and sure enough, the floor all near ruptured with greenery, so many flowers poking up through the cracks of the dirt that it almost looked like a garden in the middle of this dry, frigid mountain.

“oh, my,” albedo chuckled, his mirthful gaze burning your face. “that did the trick indeed.”

you stepped back out of shame, though your flustered expression failed to escape him—nothing could ever fool those sharp eyes of his.

how endearing, he thought, amused at the manner in which your feet shifted and the way your cheeks bloomed a shade much darker than before.

hoping to quell your fears, albedo leaned down to pluck a single flower from its stem—a cecilia, native to mondstadt, yet fabricated by your own hand. he approached you to carefully tuck it behind your ear, his hand lingering for but a moment to brush your cheek.

another cecilia popped up from the ground, right next to albedo’s feet—your hands flew up to cover your face.

this prompted a warm chuckle from the alchemist. your anxiety subsided a bit at his comforting, familiar laughter.

his hand remained near your cheek, thumb just barely ghosting the skin; it was as though you were made of a delicate porcelain he was afraid to crack. and yet, oh, and yet, the way he was looking at you was so piercing that you thought you may fall apart at the seams. those eyes of his drilled holes into your face, but their gaze still held so much affection—how could he possibly analyze you with that cold calculation and still make you feel so warm inside?

“it’s still stuck in the vision,” he murmured without breaking eye contact, his even and composed voice dragging you out of a daydream; it took you a moment to realize he was talking about the plant. although.. his hand was still cupping your cheek. your heart thumped in your ears like a rabbit’s foot to the ground—why was he still touching you? this wasn’t like the distant, calculated albedo you were certain you knew… though it’s not like you minded.

the alchemist took a step forward with one foot, slow and careful. the other followed suit, bringing him ever closer, so that now you could feel his breath against your cheek again. it was a stark contrast to the frigid atmosphere, and a shiver racked through your body at his touch. and that was when you realized just how close he was—so close that your noses almost brushed; so close that he was craning his neck to meet your gaze; so close that you almost thought he might…

..well, albedo just couldn’t help himself, could he? archons, he knew he was supposed to be trying to fix the problem with your vision, but this entire experiment was his own self-indulgence at this point. but he would not be doing it if he didn’t already know that you were quite taken with him—your vision going haywire when he got close to you gave albedo all the evidence he needed to come to the conclusion that you were smitten.

and so, when the alchemist placed his other hand on your jaw, holding your face with that steadiness and carefulness you knew he possessed, more flowers sprung up around your feet. but neither of you cared.

“this should fix it, yeah?” albedo mumbled, and before you could even process what he had said, he was swooping down to capture your lips in a kiss.

it was gentle yet fervent, brief yet fulfilling. your whole body felt warm and fluttery, so when he pulled away, you found yourself leaning forward and standing on your tippy toes as if to beg him not to—but he did, just so that he could see the expression on your face: flushed, sheepish, happy, perplexed. he was satisfied knowing that his own affections were very obviously returned.

before you knew it, his lips were crashing into yours again, just a bit more eager this time. you had no idea the great albedo was capable of such a feat as this—you’d never even entertained the thought of him reciprocating your feelings. it was just out of the question to you, until now.

albedo’s lips were slightly cracked from the cold, but there was nothing unpleasant about it. he held your face so gently and rubbed his gloved thumbs over your skin so tenderly that you didn’t know what to do with yourself, but he took the liberty of grabbing your hands and placing them on his chest. you could feel his breathing, feel the air fill and vacate his lungs, feel how he shuddered when a sudden wind invaded the workshop.

the chilled air did not help your flustered state, for your knees had already buckled more than once, and albedo’s hold on you was the only thing keeping you standing. for now, though, his lips remained on yours, and plants continued growing in his workshop until there was literally no space to walk.

albedo didn’t mind. the vision had fixed itself due to your excitement, allowing the vine to mature properly. though not to mention…a few other plants had joined in on the process.

but he loved this. he loved the view, he loved your presence, and he loved how beautiful you looked when he pulled away: eyes shining, lips a bit swollen, cheeks rosy. the fact that he could no longer move in his workshop didn’t matter so long as you were here.

he was going to paint you like this when he got the chance, he decided—and there would be no lack of flowers to reference, that’s for sure.

ᴛᴡ. ARCHON QUEST SPOILERS!1!!!1!1!! FROM HERE ON OUT !!1! ……… mentions of the reader being injured, not specified from where (nothing too descriptive); flowers grow from the reader’s wounds (again, not too descriptive); slight angst but it is immediately fluffified and everything else is good :] auntie buer basically assigned him a babysitter and thats you ehehyeyegeh

the wanderer had gone by many names in his lifetime, names that engendered fear into his enemies and allies alike.

though, had he ever really had an ally after the losses he had perceived as betrayals? in reality, scaramouche held everyone at arms length no matter what, never allowing anyone close enough to see, much less touch, the fragile shards of his psyche.

but you—an insignificant little woman, his appointed caretaker—you had given him a name.

it was unlike any of the other titles he’d been assigned. rather, this time, it wasn’t even so much that you had assigned it to him, but that it had been set aside for him—like you had let him step into it on his own, try it on for size, and decide if it suited him.

it’s a name that was reserved for him by someone kind. someone with good intention. someone who reminded him too much of the ones he had lost.

you called him junpei. pure. genuine.

the wanderer found it amusing how ironic your choice was. but upon seeing your eager grin, he could not bring himself to reject the name.

junpei.

was that how you saw him? or was it what you wanted him to be?

“junpei, would you help me with this?” sure, he would—did he have a choice, anyways?

“jun, have you eaten?” no. food was not a necessity to him, as he was a puppet. but you would make him eat regardless.

“you look tired, jun, did you sleep alright?” no. he did not sleep alright. but he felt a bit better after hearing those words come out of your mouth, truth be told.

after hearing the name (and its subsequent nicknames) on your lips day after day, it began to feel less strange. in fact, he even started to like the way it rolled off your tongue so easily.

and he liked the way you cared for him.

why did you do it?

he didn’t know. he couldn’t even begin to guess why you took on the task of watching after him. he knew how much a piece of work he was.

it turned out that you just genuinely believed in new beginnings and second chances for everyone—and to you, the wanderer, junpei, was no exception.

he was not aware, but the reason you named him junpei was because of the first time he fell asleep in your presence. his face—it was so quiet. his expression was subdued. he had become gentle.

if it was possible for him to look so peaceful in his sleep, then you were confident that he was made up of something much milder on the inside—something tender, something soft, something placid that he had carefully tucked and folded away, hidden from the prying eyes of anyone who would ever try to hurt him again.

but you did not want to hurt him. you wanted to show him beautiful things, wonderful things—things that require that benign temperament to appreciate. and if you had to give him the stars and the moon to make him open up, to make him show you that small, humane fragment of himself, then so be it. you weren’t going anywhere.

he never truly began to trust you until your own insecurities and weaknesses were exposed.

it was beyond the wanderer how someone so seemingly innocent and sheltered could be littered with so many wounds—so many wounds, and so many scars.

but then, under that short cape you never removed, there were the flowers.

pretty flowers that grew from your arms, that sprouted from the ugly gashes like beautiful weeds, that made you feel ashamed and gross. lovely flowers that were not so lovely to you. flowers that illustrated your pain. flowers that only served to make your skin crawl and remind you of what you had suffered.

it astounded the wanderer when you admitted that you had never shared this with anyone else, had never taken your cape off in the presence of another. this was a secret, something special, a sign of your trust and dedication to staying by his side. even if this was your job, he realized in that moment that this had never been just a job to you. you were there for him.

but.. still, he had his suspicions that you only wanted to “fix” him. so it wasn’t until he’d witnessed your composed display crack, fissure, and boil over that the wanderer began to trust you completely.

“jun,” you cried. it was such a helpless, pathetic sight—or, that’s what scaramouche would have thought. but junpei found himself rushing to your side, something inside his chest pounding wildly against the ribs caging it. a feeling of desperation began to claw its way out of his stomach when he saw your tears.

and the flowers. they crowded your arms, one of your thighs. were they lovely, or were they horrendous? he could not decide.

there was one tiny flower on your cheekbone. a small, yellow daisy, poised there as if your face had been its home all along.

the wanderer spat curses under his breath. “you idiot.. you stupid, stupid human..” his breathing became erratic as a violent panic overwhelmed him.

“what did you do?”

his voice was painful and strained. quiet. but most of all, it was angry.

you couldn’t give him a proper response, only shaking your head as more tears spilled from your eyes. and at this, a hole formed itself in the wanderer’s gut.

that old fear. that feeling. that horrible, dreadful, terrifying feeling.

suddenly, he was kunikuzushi again, watching the people he loved abandon him. break their promises to him.

you promised. you promised him.

but hadn’t they all?

what could a promise even mean anymore if it could be so easily broken?

you could see the gears turning in his mind, the rage that you hadn’t witnessed in so long shifting and blazing behind his eyes. and you knew you had to say something.

“i’m not going to die, you know,” you muttered, using what little strength you had to give him a watery smile. “i’m only crying like a little bitch because it hurts, okay, jun?”

his expression immediately shifted, as if the anger had been doused by a bucket of water—but it wasn’t relief you saw. it was sadness.

“i promised you, didn’t i?” you whispered, noticing how his face contorted into something distraught. slowly, painfully, you extended your pinkie from your arm’s limp place on the ground, and though it took him a moment to consider, the wanderer linked his fifth finger with yours.

“you did,” he replied, his voice no more than a whisper. then, humorlessly, he smiled, all color drained from his face. “so you better not break it.”

“is that a threat, my dear wanderer?”

he couldn’t fight the genuine upturn of his lips—you always chose the most inappropriate times to make an attempt at comedy. the wanderer shook his head, gently pinching your unwounded cheek while he chastised you with something like affection in his voice.

from then on, junpei tended to you as if curating a garden, as if you were a little flower he had planted and helped grow all along. not once would he allow you to put yourself in danger—and if you tried, he would flick your forehead and make you sit in the tent in time-out. but if you really pushed him, really, he could get genuinely angry with you, but only because he cared for you. the worst he’d ever do was raise his voice at you, and even then, you could hear in his tone how worried he was under the aggression.

at some point, you realized that junpei had only become this caring since the day he witnessed you so vulnerable. it was as if he had not allowed himself to trust you completely until he was certain that you needed him, too.

you couldn’t blame him for it—you were glad to know that he no longer viewed vulnerability as a weakness. it was a sign that he was healing and finding comfort in something other than the despair he’d harbored for so long.

“juunyyy,” you sang from your tent, where you had been forcibly stowed away under a nest of blankets and shoved into junpei’s suzukake (outer robe). you were sick, and dreadfully so.

when he poked his head through the flap of the tent, the way your face distinctly brightened upon seeing him made the wanderer’s stomach plummet to the floor. granted, you were a bit loopy from the fever, but it’s not the first time you’d looked at him like that. he felt himself falling in love with you all over again every time he saw you—now in particular, since you were bundled up in his jacket looking so awfully adorable.

“what is it?” he asked, trying with all he had to conceal the fondness in his voice with a scowl. your coy smile hinted at his unfortunate failure.

“i have something for you,” you whispered giddily, even though nobody else was around, and there was nothing you’d said that even remotely suggested you needed to whisper.

junpei sighed, entering the tent with an air of indifference despite how his chest fluttered. your childish grin was really making it hard for him to keep up the act, though.

and when you placed a flower crown on his head, taking the time to smooth down his dark, inky hair to make a place for it, junpei thought it was really going to be the end of him.

this is it, he mused. i’ve officially become soft.

what would scaramouche think if he saw himself now?

but.. that didn’t matter, did it? no, no it didn’t. it truly did not matter. he was no longer bound by the person he had been—or rather, the puppet. the heartless balladeer. scaramouche.

maybe you’d seen this in him all along. maybe you’d always known he would thaw out someday. maybe that was why you had called him junpei.

if that was the case, he suddenly realized that you were smarter than he gave you credit for. perhaps he had judged that dense pea-brain of yours too harshly, no?

..archons, but you were still so stupid at the same time.

he found himself scoffing at the conclusions he’d reached about you—and he had the sudden urge to wipe that goofy little smile off your face.

so he threw all caution to the wind, grabbing your chin, albeit a little rougher than he’d meant to. there was nothing stopping him from kissing you anymore, so he did just that. although he was a bit stiff about it at first.

after a few moments, his rigid posture softened, and he let go of your chin to instead cup your face, a surprising tenderness to his touch—at the same time, you recovered from your shock, becoming lucid enough to wrap your arms around his neck and reciprocate the way he pressed into you.

a few minutes later, the two of you were breathless and rosy-cheeked, and the wanderer’s steady hands held you closer than they ever had before. you remembered when they used to shake and tremble—it warmed you to think just how much you’d seen him grow.

even though you’d both surely had your fill of kisses, he kept leaning in and stealing more small pecks from your lips while you dissolved into laughter. every time a giggle managed to escape you, it was swallowed by a chaste, almost playful, kiss, something you didn’t know your grumpy little wanderer was capable of. more uncontrollable laughter soon followed each time his lips left yours.

the wanderer’s assault of smooches finally stopped when your amusement started to die down. the two of you were left with a tender moment as he held you firmly, closely, his eyes making a silent promise to you that he was the one you could depend upon now. that you didn’t have to babysit him anymore. his loyalty belonged to you.

well, it’s not like you couldn’t infer that from the way he’d just desperately made out with you. but the reassurance was nice!

he rested his head on your shoulder, almost in a defeated manner, as if all that affection had truly exhausted him to the bone. you found that very amusing. and of course, as always, you’d spotted the perfect opportunity to say something that would no doubt ruffle his feathers.

“ . . . you know i’m sick, right? ”

thank you for reading😳

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[lukolabrainrot]

Calm theory anon here and I seen an ask as I was scrolling that made me think. One question was why would Luke continue to see Ant if she was involved with pap gate? And another question was why would he continue to date ant it he knew it was hurting nic? So let's tackle the first one. My question to you is do you automatically think the worst of the people in your life? Do you automatically have bad things happens and assume it's someone attached to you? I personally don't. I think to figure out who was behind pap gate would be difficult and he might have just assumed they followed him from the after party to the hotel. He might not have even put two and two together. We know the girl been baiting the fans but an outsider would just think she taking pictures and posting them. So why would Luke think any type of different? To him she wasn't nasty. She I'm sure showed all her best qualities to him. Remember even though they been "seeing" each other for a year he's been gone for most of that. So did he really know her? No how can he when he spent so much time touring, and even when he was back I'm sure he was exhausted in between countries. So yes there is a possibly he didn't put two and two together. We still don't know who called them we still have just theories and I'm sure he's not gonna ask backgrid who called. Actually why would he even go that route mentally and assume it was his people? I'm sure that thought didn't come in his head till it became a pattern which was Italy. Now why would he continue dating Ant if Nic was hurting? Now this one made me pause a bit. Why would he? then it dawned on me who to even say they had that discussion on how they feel about each other. How would he know how she felt unless she told him? I personally am a people pleaser and honestly at times it sucks. I always put myself last. So it goes to stand if Nic knew he was seeing her then why would she get in the way of his relationship? She would never be the reason they broke up. Men naturally are able to communicate feelings as good as woman are. They are naturally logical thinkers. They react to issues using logic where as woman react using feelings. So Nic did why I would have done thrown herself into work and just have some fun try not to dwell on something you can't change. I seen an article that spoke on she went from the Tour to straight to filming. She didn't have to dwell in the Luke stuff cuz she kept herself busy. Now personally I think they have talked since then. I think it was after Italy. Who knows if they spoken feelings? But i do think things are moving in the right direction. Hey maybe this JD photos got a certain person moving.

💯

Hard to know EXACTLY what's been going on BTS with L/N since the beginning of the year. I personally think they have seriously been working on their romantic relationship since the Italy stop of the WT. I think papgate threw a wrench in everything though and things were definitely not all rainbows and sunshine between L/N this summer. I think they took some space this summer to figure out there stuff, and there was some type of positive shift between them after the Italy bday trip. I also personally think things have been kind of off and on between L/N for a while, and they have known each other so long, that if they can get on the same page, I think things will get serious pretty quickly. And I have this theory (based on everything I've seen between them this year and PARTICULARLY N's chaos week), that they have finally gotten on the same page 😉

I am also going to say this. I think it speaks VOLUMES what L/N have on their public grid of each other (and the other people in their lives they DON'T choose to put on their grid). Especially N (who's a lot more SM savy than L). I've said it before, and I'll say it again. L (not Colin) is ALL OVER N'S GRID 🤔

[inthestarsme]

Solar return observations pt. 1 ✨

‼️ Do not reproduce, repost or use any of my content without my consent. If you ever repost anything, you need to always mention my page ‼️

Hey guys! I hope you've been having a great christmas time! I'm starting a new little series, bc honestly, i haven't been observing anything new when it comes to birth charts lately, but i've really been into solar return charts, which is why i really wanted to make this. As you might have seen, i had already posted another observation which included some observations on solar return charts, which i deleted bc some of the things i shared didn't resonate with me and i only want to give you content i can truly stand behind. But i am mentioning this, bc i'm going to include some of the solar return observations i made in this post, so don't be confused if you think you might've already seen this on one of my posts.

If you do not know about solar return charts, i would recommend you to look it up beforehand. I am not the best at explaining this kind of stuff, but there are other astrology pages who have amazing introductions for people who are getring into solar return charts. Please look them up and then come back to this!!

Before we start: these are just my personal observations. I am by no means a professional astrologer, and i don't want you coming for me because you disagree with me on the meaning of something. If you want to correct me, feel free, but i will not tolerate any hate or disrespect (which means you will get blocked).

‼️Trigger warning: mentions of bad relationship experiences, bullying and mental health struggles ‼️

Sooo let's go!

Jupiter in the 8th house conjunct neptune in 7th house: Although of course this can show different in every persons life, for me in the year i had this placement i didn't meet my rich husband who was my wonderful soulmate. Instead i only dated one guy who in the beginning seemed very great but turned out to just be using me for intercourse. In general the guys i've met who were interested in me seemed quite stable and like good people, but turned out to actually be known by close ones as f-boys. So if you have this placement in your solar return chart, please beware. It might look better than it is, as neptune is also about illusions and in the 7th house of relationships, this can mean you might not see who the person truly is, and with jupiter in the 8th house, it could be because they might be using you for sexual endevours, or you might be more into sexual endavours than usual and thus give another person the illusion you might be into more to get access in that way (which: please don't do that. there is people out there who are willing to give you that without you having to betray them. it's not fair to someone who is trying to actually build a relationship).

Neptune conjunct the Descendant with Chiron in the 7th house: Adding to the last observation: the year i started dating my first boyfriend who was very toxic and completely used and betrayed me was the year i had neptune, the planet of illusions, in a very close conjunction to my descendant. Also, like chiron (the wound we cannot heal but which can heal others) would indicate, this whole situation sent me into quite a mental health crisis, which i didn't even realize until about 2 years later. it really messed with me, so please be careful if you have this placement. i still learned a lot about relationships, and i feel like i now would never again get into a relationship without being 100 percent certain about the persons intentions and so on, but it was still very unpleasent. So, please be careful.

Saturn, Pluto and Uranus in the 4th house: Whilst Pluto and (especially) Uranus can totally mean you moving because they are very much about change, i wouldn't say the same about saturn in the 4th house. Saturn is usually more about restrictions and difficulties. Of course there could be difficulties with your landlord for example, which might cause you to move, but otherwise, i think saturn here is more about not being able to move freely in your home or you feeling bound to your home for some reason. This can of course vary in interpretation depending on other aspects and planets, it could also be about problems with you family. It very much depends.

North node conjunct uranus in any house: Whatever house this placement is in, you might experience some significant change in this area or might learn something about this area of your life which will change it significantly. For example, a friend of mine had this in his 7th house and during that year, after a lots of years of being in an polyamorous relationship, they went back to a monogamous relationship because some things had appened, which made them realize for them to keep on having a healthy relationship, a monogamous relationship might be better. I also had this placement in my ninth house and during this year some things happened which significantly altered the way i handle my studies in college.

Stellium in 12th house (with sun and moon): You might be going through a phase where you are in more solitute and a lot of things you didn't know about will come to light. I am currently experiencing this, and i could totally feel the shift. I feel it kind of was like my last solar reutrn year i had so many experiences with traveling and meeting new people, that i kind of feel like an "experience fatigue". it felt like i was making so many new experiences, and focused on making more and so on, that i forgot to put meaning and intention behind those. So now i just want to slow down and still make experiences, but also focus on my inner world, on learning new things about myself and also work on some mental health stuff. also, i feel like there has been a lot going on behind the scenes on how people view or say about me which i don't or didn't know about, like for example one year a go, a comment i made on youtube got about 6000 likes and people were bashing me so hard in the comments and i didn't even notice until now 😭 idk, i hope whatever is going to be revealed isn't too harsh (the comments were bad but honestly, i didn't mind. it's not the first time i've gotten hate on social media lol). the 12th house is generally not considered to be very positive, but for now i feel like it is mostly about me time and discovering new things about myself.

Sun square pluto: I read something on the tumblr page "lavishlyleo" about this placement being a very difficult placement which can last for a looong time, and i looked it up: i've had this placement since i was about 14 years old. now, i've had quite a rough childhood, but me having to deal with that and having to process it and simultaniously starting to experience more bullying and so on started around this time. i think beforehand i knew my life wasn't the greatest, but i could still move through it and be very happy and content because i had a great friend group and a lot of other good stuff going on. the fact of me having to realized how the things i have gone through were so fucked up and how they messed with me was soo much harder tbh. but now this placement has been easing up a bit and will go away in about two years and i have honestly been doing so much better than the years beforehand, especially when it comes to my social life! i am so excited on seeing how life will be as soon as this placement finally goes away.

Chiron or lilith in the 11th house: As these two are more harsh and about experiencing some bad stuff to also learn and develope, having this in the 11th house may not be a good sing of you keeping your friend group and maybe losing those. Or in general just having bad experiences with groups of people.

I will leave you with this now. As the year progresses, i will see how certain placements play out in my and other peoples life, so i can give you some more observations i made. But i hope you enjoyed this!

Sending out love and please keep safe! Until next time byebye 🩵

[writingroom21]

Sweet Escape

Pairing: Rafe x single mom reader

Summary: Moving to Kildare with your best friend and daughter was the perfect move. The little island is perfect, the people are nice, and you are finally at peace. Then Rafe comes in with his perfect smile and charm, sweeping you off your feet. The only issue is if you are ready to let someone else in.

Warnings: None

Wc: 5.2K

series masterlist

Chapter 3: A Surprise Guest

“Does this look good?” You turn around to look at the three people sitting on your bed. June, Jo, and Vi are all perched up watching as you try on different outfits. The two adults share a look as the youngest keeps staring at you. She may be young but you swear she understands what is happening. Her eyes have a glint to them like she’s aware of what you’re about to do.

Well no one could blame her, you have been talking about this all week. From the moment you came home that night you blabbed about it. The whole dinner consisted of “Can you believe he actually asked me out?”, “Am I stupid for saying yes? I should be focusing on Vi and I”, “This could end badly, what was I thinking?”. Then Jo’s favorite.

“You know it wouldn’t hurt going out for once. Plus he’s really hot.” 

If they thought that first night was bad it compared nothing to the second. Rafe had apparently stopped by the shop with an excuse for seeing you again. You had gone on about it all of dinner that no one else got a word. But honestly they couldn’t care.

“You know I was smart enough to ask you out yet not smart enough to ask for your number. So here I am fixing yet another mistake. Think I can get it?” He slid a plant carrier over the counter. Looking closer at the label you see it’s a red Chrysanthemum. You laugh at the gift and he gives you a weird look. “Is something wrong with it?” God he was so dumb for getting you a dumbass plant. You literally own a flower shop, what was he thinking? “Nothings wrong. It’s just red chrysanthemum’s meaning is I love you. I was just giggling over that.” 

The blush that painted his cheeks was cute. It made you feel better that you aren’t the only one nervous about all of this. “Oh shit I didn’t know that. Flowers have meaning?” His eyes widened and looked to the side of where Vi played with some toys. “Don’t worry she’s distracted with that new piano toy Jo got her. Every flower has a meaning to them. Years ago they would use flowers like another language to communicate how they feel. It’s actually really cool.” You look so euphoric talking about flowers, it’s kind of the same look as when you talk about your daughter.

There was a meeting he had to get to by eleven but he canceled it once he saw how happy you were. He spent most of his time there asking you what different flowers meant. At first just wanting to see that look on you, then it turned into a game. He really wanted to see if you knew every meaning because come on, there’s no way. But boy did you prove him wrong. What sealed it in was when after he said goodbye to you, he walked over to Vi and gave her a hug goodbye. It was one of the sweetest gestures you’ve seen. Her smile was so big it made you want to cry.

There was no shutting you up after that. Every text message he sent was followed with “Oh my god he texted.” Every dull moment was filled with “He’s not so bad. Like he was just telling me how he and his sisters are going to the beach on Sunday.Then he asked if we all wanted to join them. That’s nice of him.” Jo couldn’t have cared less, she’s never seen you this excited over a guy. 

Her and her grandmother keep talking about how nice it is to see you this way. Excited about your own life for a change and getting back out there. They never liked your ex, he seemed like an asshole which turned out to be true when he skipped town. They can’t help to be happy for you.

“I think the last dress was nice. Red suits you so well plus your boobs look great in them.” June swats her arm, tsking at her grand-daughter. “Josephine. I have to agree about the red dress but that one also looks really good.” You groan as you throw yourself on the bed. You’ve been at this for an hour. Rafe is most likely going to be her soon and you’re not even ready yet. 

“Where is he even taking you?” Your words are mumbled through the comforter. “Couldn’t understand a thing. But it sounds nice.” Flipping around you are staring at the ceiling. “I don’t know. He wanted it to be a surprise.” Tiny hands come into your view and then a face. Vi looks down at you with a wide smile on her face. She’s been happier recently, well more than usual.

“That’s sweet that he wants to surprise you. Richard did the same thing for me when we went on our first date.” Richard is Jo’s grandfather, he passed away ten years ago. You remember growing up and wishing you were lucky enough to have love like that. There’s a spark deep down in your abdomen, some sense of hope. You shake it off and get up. “Where are you doing?”

“I have a red dress to put on.”

By the time you are done getting ready there are two text messages from Rafe. I’m leaving right now and I’ll be there in five minutes. The last text was sent almost six minutes ago but there’s nothing saying he got here. Not thinking of it you walk downstairs to wait only to be greeted with the sight of him sitting on the couch along with the rest of the house.

“If you break her heart I won’t hesitate to hurt you. I don’t mind getting my hands dirty.” Rafe laughs as he picks up the toddler trying to get up on the couch. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” June gives Jo a shocked look from how fast he answered and how he is acting with Violet. “You know it’s not just her you would be getting involved with. Her and Vi are a package deal.” 

There’s a slight pause in the conversations as he looks down at the little girl sitting next to him. Her big blue eye’s stare back up at him. He can’t explain it but there’s a part of him that feels connected to the both of you. As if this is where he was meant to be, that all the fucked up shit in his life lead him to this moment. “I know. I may not be a dad but I’m taking care of my sister so I get it in a way.” He looks at the two of them hoping they understand what he’s trying to convey.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Trying not to think much of it, you walk into the living room. The echo of your footsteps alert them of your presence. Rafe swears his heart stops when he looks at you. He honestly didn’t think you could get any more beautiful and he was wrong, you just did. That dress fits you so well and you’re just glowing. Carefully he gets up holding Vi as she clings to him.

“Hey. Wow you look wow.” He walks over and almost hands Vi over to you. His brain finally kicks in and he walks back to hand her over to Jo. “My bad I was meaning to give you these not Vi.” He picks up a bouquet of flowers you didn’t notice were laying on the coffee table. They are pretty, you look at the simple arrangement. Gardenia, morning glory, and blue salvia. Each one of them means a sort of admiration. Gardenia meaning either your lovely or secret love, morning glory for affection, and blue salvia is I think of you.

Even though you know he doesn’t understand the meanings there is still a blush forming. “They’re beautiful, thank you.” The two of you say goodbye and make your way to his truck. He opens the door up for you and puts his hand out so you can use him as leverage to get up. The ride to where you are going wasn’t too long of a drive.

“Okay, close your eyes, we are about to be there.” Giggling, you follow his instruction and close your eyes. The truck tires run over gravel making a crunching sound before the tires screech to a stop. You can’t help but keep giggling as you get more excited about what is in store. The passenger side door opens and your seatbelt is unbuckled for you. Rafe’s hands grab your arms to help you out and he holds your hand as you walk.

You are putting all of your trust in him right now. Not being able to see anything is stressful and scary at the same time. “Jo has my location just as an fyi.” Rafe lets out a huge laugh. “Damn looks like I’ll have to trick her next. Make sure I get all the evidence.” You playfully shove him only to lose your footing. He catches you before you can fall and helps you get your footing back.

“Lucky I’m here or you would have fallen right in the water.” You know how they say when one of your senses goes the others are heightened? Well clearly that was not the case for you. You didn’t even hear the water until he mentioned it. But now all you can hear is the water slapping against something. “Where did you take me?” You laugh out loud. You can feel his chest press against your back, his hands laying on your biceps. “You can open your eyes now.” 

When you open them there is a boat staring back at you. You look over your shoulder at him and see that he looks nervous. “Wait fuck I never even asked if you liked the water or if you get sea sick. I messed this up already haven't I?” It might sound weird but his nervousness is nice to see. Turning around you throw your arms around him and kiss his cheek. “It’s perfect.”

The boat is nice. The upper deck is for steering, the middle is lounging, and the last floor has a bedroom as well as a kitchen. He had a table set up on the second floor deck, two chairs facing each other. The two of you are now sitting there after riding out a little further to the water. Light candles illuminate both of your features. 

The two of you are laughing over some dumb joke he said, sipping the wine that he poured for you. “Okay this has got to be the best chicken I have ever eaten. How is it this good?” Rafe swallows the bit of food that he had in his mouth. “I can ask Reggie to give you the recipe. I wish I could take credit for all of this. Probably couldn’t cook to save my life.” Sometimes it’s a shock to be reminded about how rich he actually is.

Like he has a whole chef to cook for him. It’s a crazy thought because you’ve been cooking since you were a kid. “Is it weird having a chef and people that do everything for you? I can’t wrap my head around it.” Rafe puts down his fork and leans back to look at you. “Nah. I grew up like this so it’s not weird to me at all. But I get it, it’s weird when you didn’t grow up with it.” There’s a slight breeze that moves through your hair.

From the candle light you can see a little spark in his eyes. “Maybe you could show me how? I know Wheeze only has a few more years before college but it would be nice to give her that.” It took you a second to realize he was talking about his little sister. “Of course I can. How old is she?” The boat rocks lightly as the waves hit it. “fifteen. Sarah is nineteen so you can imagine how crazy the house can get.”

“Did you always have a good relationship with them?” The question makes him freeze up. You want to take it back but he answers it. “When I was younger I loved them so much. Then as I got older I got bitter and I did things I’m not proud of. But after my dad died last year I knew I couldn’t be that person anymore. I’m trying to be better for them and for myself I guess.”

“That’s honestly very noble of you. Not many people would own up to that or take on that responsibility.” He wants to tell you that you're wrong about him, he’s not worth being praised. Sarah makes sure to tell him that all the time. No matter how much he tries she only pushes him further away. The only reason she tolerates him is for the sake of Wheezie, not wanting her to have a broken family after losing their dad. “I’m not a good person. I have a lot of issues that I’ve been trying to get past.”

You reach over to grab his hand over the table. “No one expects you to be perfect. The fact that you are trying is all that matters. No one is perfect.” He flips his hands so he can intertwine your fingers together. “You are pretty amazing, you know that?” The smile on his face makes you smile. The grip on your hand tightens for a second and then relaxes. “Tell me about your day.”

The rest of dinner went smoothly. Both of you shared stories about yourselves growing up. You found out that Rafe’s mom left when he was around nine and his dad already had a new wife around ten. You feel bad that he was given that end of the shitty stick. Sure your childhood wasn’t as glamorous as his but at least you had your parents. Even if they abandoned you in the end, they loved you growing up. 

The more you get to know him the more you can’t help but fall deeper. He’s funny, handsome, kind, and most importantly he seems great with Violet. “If you don’t mind me asking what happened with Vi’s dad?” The two of you are laying down on the main deck and staring at the stars. Your mind wanders to how he now calls her Vi and not Violet. It happened some time this week during his daily lunch visits. It warms your heart hearing him call her by her nickname.

“He left once I told him I was pregnant. Just packed everything up and left, never looking back.” Rafe turns to look at you, his hand seeking out yours. “He’s a fucking dick.” The words sink in and your eyes flicker to meet his. “You know everyone always says that.” You turn to your side so you are facing him. “What do you tell them?” You take a deep breath. “I made up some lie about him doing what he thought was best. Honestly I just want to tell them that she’s better off without him. He didn’t love me and I know he wouldn’t have loved her. She’s better off not having a dad that hates her.”

Your words cut like a thousand knives. But if he’s being honest, you’re right. He lived through that, he knows what it’s like to have a dad who hates him for just existing. No one should have to go through that. Turning to his side his other hand pushes back some hair behind your ear. “You shouldn’t have to cover for him. But you’re right, she’s better off without him.” 

There’s a mutual understanding that the conversation would end there. You two stare at each other and Rafe is the first to break. He turns on his back looking back at the stares. “Did you know that the bigger the star is, the shorter their life span is.” You stare at him for a little bit longer and turn on your back as well. “Really?”

“Yeah they fuse different elements like helium and it releases their energy. When they run out of fuel they just die, then those elements are used to make new stars.” Looking at the sky you can see the different sizes scattered around. The open water is void of the outside world light, making the stars look brighter. “Huh, I never really thought about how they die. Who knew you were such an astrologist?”

By the time you got back to land it was pretty late. The two of you had watched the stars a bit longer and decided it was time to call it a night. It was a pretty good night if you had to say so yourself. You were shocked at how you didn’t want the night to end as you pulled into your driveway. 

Like a gentleman, Rafe walks you up to the front door. “I had a great time tonight. If you are up to it maybe we can do it again.” He’s getting skittish not knowing how you actually feel about the date. “I had a great time too.” You grab his hand and swing it between your bodies. “This may not be what you want to hear but I want to take things slow. You know that I have Vi and she’s my number one priority. I like you but I need to be safe.”

You are just about ready to bolt into the house when he doesn’t say anything at first. “I get it, don't worry. We’ll take it as slow as you need. I’m not going anywhere.” He pulls your hand up and gives it a kiss. “It’s okay to put the two of you first, beautiful. As long as you get that I have to do the same with Wheezie.” You laugh at him. “Deal.”

Going to bed that night all you can do is smile. Vi had crawled into your bed after waking up from hearing you get in. She curled up into your side and let out a small sound. “Ra?” You snuggle into her and give her a little kiss. “We’ll see him tomorrow okay? I promise.”

The next morning was a crazy mess. Everyone had woken up late and you were supposed to leave for the beach an hour ago. When you woke up you had a few messages from Rafe. Morning beautiful. Sarah and Wheeze are getting ready right now so we’ll leave in like thirty. Then there was, Hey , we are on our way. Be there shortly. When you woke up there was a final one just a minute prior. We’re here but no one is answering the door. Is everything okay?

You had rushed out of your room and to the front door. “Hey I’m so sorry we overslept. Just give me a few minutes and we will be ready.” You are ushering them into the house and onto the couch. “Want anything? You can help yourself to literally anything.” The two young girls give each other a look as you freak out. The look turns into one of awe as they see you and Rafe interact.

“Hey it’s okay. We don’t mind waiting so don’t rush yourself. The beach is going anywhere.” With a kiss on the cheek you are off to get ready. It didn’t take long to get Jo up and get yourself as well as Vi ready. The three of you make your way down the stairs to meet up with the rest of the lot. June decided to stay back and let you all enjoy the day.

Once Violet lays eyes on Rafe she screams and runs up to him. “RA!” Rafe springs up from the couch and lifts her into his arms. “Vi. Hi sweetie. Did you have a good day yesterday?” Sarah has this look on her face that you can’t ignore. It’s pure disbelief. “Yes! Jo pwad prwincess.” The two teens watch the scene unfold in front of them. Wheeze is smiling at the two of them, happy that Rafe is going back to his old self. Sarah on the other hand doesn’t know how to feel.

Sarah keeps an eye on Rafe the whole day. Inspecting the way he interacts with you and your daughter. It’s like she’s watching a different version of her brother, she’s never seen him this happy. Even when he was some type of normal he wasn’t this happy. When he first told her and Wheezie about you all she wanted to do was warn you. To tell you to keep yourself and your daughter out of his way because it will only end up with you getting hurt.

She wanted to channel all of her rage and anger for him out on you. But sitting here in a beach chair watching as he chases the small toddler round she can’t find it in herself to do it. The part of her that still loves him is banging on the bars in its enclosure saying that you are what he needs. That Rafe is actually changing. She remembers Wheezie telling her she needs to start forgiving him because even if he did bad things he truly isn’t a bad person. He was just lost and is finding his way back out.

“So tell me about Rafe growing up?” The sound of your voice interrupts her thoughts. She looks over at you and smiles. “When we were younger he was amazing, always making me laugh. I guess after our mom left things changed. Then he became a teenager and turned into someone I don’t know.” She has half a mind to say what her mind is begging her to but then she realizes that maybe she is wrong. “But he started changing after our dad. I didn’t want to see it but Wheeze is right.”

“What do you mean she’s right?” You sit up using your elbows to keep your upper half upright. “Rafe has been changing and I refuse to see it. But seeing him with you and especially with her, I can tell that he actually is.” You follow her eye line to see Rafe and Vi building a sandcastle near the water. She runs to the water with a bucket and he darts off behind her. He lifts her in the air and spins her around.

You can hear her giggles from where you are laying down, his laughs following along. “Her dad left when he found out about her. Do you think he really changed? I can’t risk it, she’s getting attached.” You sit up fully and turn to face her. “I do. He still has work to do but no one’s perfect.” It’s the first time she will allow herself to admit it. This past year she’s been harboring so much resentment for him not recognizing how he must have felt. But if this is his new chance then maybe it can be hers too.

“Good because I like him. I may not fully know him but I like him.” Sarah smiles at you and pulls the sunglasses off her face to give you a good look. “Good because I think he really likes you too.” You get up. “Where are you going?” Glancing back at the blonde girl, you smile. “I’m going to go join them. Can’t have him becoming her favorite.”

You run over to them jumping on Rafe’s back mid spin. It’s a good thing you were in the water at this point because you fell right off. The water was warm so at least you didn’t fall in cold water. Rafe and Vi laugh at you as you get up. “Haha so funny” Rafe laughs more as he walks closer to you. He brings you in a hug and tries to calm down his laughter. “That was amazing, baby. Isn’t mom so funny?”

The freudian slip catches you off guard, Rafe catches on shortly after. He tensely shifts a little.  “Umm sorry I didn-” “It’s okay.” He smiles at you and shakes his head, needing the thought of kissing you to go away. This isn’t the time or place, plus you wanted to take things slow. He’s not going to mess it up. He’s willing to do whatever you want honestly.

“Come on, we have a sandcastle to build. Let’s fill this up Vi and your mom can come join us.” Rafe dips down so she can fill the bucket and walks her back to where they previously were. The three of you just spend time finishing up the masterpiece that was princess castle. The name is courtesy from the two year old. Towards the end it was just really you and Rafe sitting there as she played around it with one of her dolls. 

The two of you just sat there and talked about random things. You told him about the time in middle school where you confessed your feelings to your crush and how he ended up liking your best friend. He told you about the time when he was sleeping over a friend and accidentally caught his sister having sex. He said it was super embarrassing having to explain to his friend why he had a boner. It was pretty nice to be able to joke around with him and hear dumb little stories. Overall it was great getting to know him.

It would be safe to say that beach day was a success. Everyone got along together and more importantly Rafe secured the one that he set out to achieve. He got Violet to trust him which is something he really wanted to gain. Rafe knows that the little girl had a soft spot for him as he did for her, but he wanted her trust. She is a part of you and that means her opinion matters just as much. He knows that she’s important to you for obvious reasons and he wants you to know he’s taking this seriously.

It was refreshing to see the two of them being around each other. Vi has always been a happy baby, always smiling and laughing. Everyone was amazed at how well she was, never cried and always a joy to be around. Yet the joy she has when she’s around Rafe is a different level. It really warms your heart to see her this happy. Then there is Rafe. He is amazing with her, it was as if he was her dad. There wasn’t a moment where he wasn’t attentive.

Even when you went to lunch he ordered for her and helped her eat. By the time the sun was setting she was out cold in his arms. Her head was resting on his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his neck. The three of you were walking all the way back to the car as his arm wrapped around you. To anyone else you would look like a family just having a normal day. 

But to you it’s more. On the inside you are still kind of freaking out about taking that step further. Then you look up at him and the worry all fades away. It really can’t be that bad right? It’s still new and you shouldn’t get your hopes up but at least he’s trying. He’s tried harder than Vi’s dad or your parents when it came to you and her. Maybe that’s all you need.

“You alright?” Rafe is looking down at you and back at everyone behind the two of you. “Is this all too much?” One of your hands cups his face and you reach on your tippy toes to give his cheek a kiss. “Everything’s perfect. I can hold her, you know.” He grins down at you kissing your forehead. “It's okay I got her.” 

That night was a pivotal moment for you. The voices telling you to keep your peace faded to the background, so little that you can barely hear them. A month has passed since that night and things have been going good. The two of you have gone on dates every weekend, even taking Vi on some of them. Every one she went on she enjoyed being the center of attention. Plus all the lunch dates you all had. 

The first week he showed up everyday for lunch, taking the two of you out. When he showed up the following week everyday as well and you were suspicious. Then there was the next and the next. It became a routine. He would make sure he didn’t have any lunch meetings anymore, his lunch blocked off for the two of you. 

It was the highlight of the three of your days. Rafe smiles brightly when Vi runs up to him and you're smiling at him before giving him a kiss. The same routine that’s ingrained to his memory, never to be forgotten. Rafe was running a bit late so the two of you were locking the door as he walked up to the shop. Violet, like usual, is the first one to see him and runs up to him throwing her arms out for him to catch her. 

Rafe catches her lifting her above his head to look like she’s flying. “Hey sweetie Vi. How’s my girl doing?” He pulls her down to hold her to his chest. “Ray! Good, hungie.” He laughs and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “That's  good, sweet pea, and you momma?” Your blush isn’t hard to miss, your cheek bright red.

He’s been saying that casually when she’s around. momma. It makes you blush every time, liking when he says it. He takes your moment of pause to steal a kiss from you. “It's been a smooth morning. An older couple came by and bought some flowers, they were so cute.” Rafe slings an eye around you as you walk towards his car.

“Vi did get antsy when you weren’t on time.” He dramatically gasps and whips his head at her. “Oh no Vi I’m sorry. Thought you would be able to cut me some slack, kid.” He puts on a performance for her, making her laugh out loud. “Sorry baby some guy cut me off and got the parking spot closer. Had to go a bit further down.” You go to respond but a voice interrupts you. The familiar voice is calling out your name. Looking at them you can’t believe who you see.

“Theo?”

His smile brings back so many memories, ones you wish would be scrubbed away. “Hey. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Rafe’s arm tightens around you and he looks between the two of you. At this point you already stopped walking. Theo walks over to you and is now face to face. “Who’s Theo?” Rafe sort of whispers to you, trying to act calm but internally freaking out. Sadly the other guy had actually heard him. 

“She hasn’t told you about me?”

The cocky grin on his face makes Rafe’s face drop. He turns to look at you, subconsciously switching Vi to the other side. That way he’s blocking her from this random guy. “No.” Theo? Has the nerve to laugh at him, looking at you to see if you will say something. When you stay silent he looks over at Rafe. Staring him dead in the eye this random ass man just delivered a blow to Rafe’s chest.

“I’m Theo, her ex. You know that little girl's dad.”

Taglist: @haruvalentine4321 @namelesslosers @ijustwanttoreadlols @drewsphswife @corpsebridenightamare @actorslover @juniperbaies @fionaswifeyy

Let me know if you’d like to be added🫶

[nachosncheezies]

In defense of late-canon x files (including the revivals)

I was thinking about this poll after I commented on it, and I kinda want to be brave and say more.

Short answer to the poll's question before I go any further: If you're a new fan and a sensitive sort who thinks you'll struggle with your blorbos Really Going Through It and you really need a happy ending, I suggest you stop at the end of season 8. Do not pass go, do not look at spoilers. Disregard this post entirely, close the internet, and go look at something that makes you happy. (Also fuck every part of society that characterizes sensitivity as inherently weak and bad and some kind of personal failing, you are valid.)

That said, "quality" as a concept is entirely subjective, and the question of whether or not there's a decline in quality for any story is wholly subjective, too. In the case of x files? I'm not convinced there is a decline. I am going to be upfront that I haven't yet watched past season 8, though I am almost completely spoiled on events after that - and the reason I haven't watched yet is not because of how I know events are going to unfold, but simply because I don't want it to end!!! Ohh, the tension between "I CAN'T WAIT!!!" and "Nooo don't be over D:"

When I first came to txf fandom on tumblr and gradually became spoiled about what happens in late canon though, I was often left uncomfortable and tbh kinda queasy about it. As I said in my comment on the poll, the hate for especially the revival and IWTB, or to a lesser extent even seasons 8 & 9, is very well documented. But! There are other takes to be found here on tumblr if you figure out where to look, and my feelings have changed!

The thing is, I have yet to find myself in any fandom where there isn't a vocal subset of fans who dislike the story after a certain point. I am not joking when I say that no one hates the things they love as passionately as sci-fi and fantasy fans. In my experience, it often hinges on the extent to which a viewer has strong notions on where they would like the characters to end up. In particular with series where shipping is a dominant component for the bulk of a fandom, I have almost universally found that there comes some turning point in the story where "let them be happy you cowards" is the dominant view, and things that compromise the attainment of a degree of romantic stability and/or domesticity are, to many fans, annoying at best and despicable at worst. But! As one tagset on the linked poll said:

and I think for any fandom, that last tag especially is so so so important. (I think that's harder for people watching a weekly series live, bc you have so much time to analyze and speculate and dream before the next breadcrumb drops, but I digress.)

So why am I saying this and how do I apply it to x files? Well, I eventually found that there are also a subset of fans who find redeeming things right up to the very end and actually quite like the whole thing! The things that I had seen people rage and ventpost so much about honestly never quite sounded to me as "out of character" or "untrue to the story" etc as those same ventposts made them sound. And I've discovered I'm not the only one who felt that way. Do I love that the spooky squad had to go through all of those things? No, those poor guys D: Life is hard and they have been through so much trauma. But do those events and their choices make sense to me in light of everything that came before? Yes! And I honestly can't wait to see them fight to overcome those things, breaking, healing, always learning, always growing, always getting better.

So if you're wondering "where does it go wrong"... well, I'm a completionist, as many people who've answered that post are, but also my personal opinion is that I don't think it does go wrong. If you're new and interested in exploring why I've gone from "vaguely queasy" to "excited" about the whole thing, or want to maybe balance out the impressions you're getting about the later seasons before deciding whether or not you want to see the whole thing, I'll put a few blog names in the comments.

Final admission: even once I started feeling a little more confident in the possibility that "actually ok maybe I'm not crazy, maybe this all kind of is in character and does make sense", there was one big plot point that I was NOT looking forward to and I thought I would never be comfortable about. In hindsight, I think my discomfort came from the negative responses being SO seemingly universal that I hadn't stopped to let myself truly consider other possible interpretations on that point. (I mean my initial instinct when I first read about it was, why are we mad about this?? CSM is literally the most unreliable narrator in history???? it's obviously fake news?????? this must be either a fever dream someone's having or it's a misdirection ploy against whatever shadowy forces might still be lurking?????????????? but for whatever reason I guess I had halfway written that off.) Happily, just last month there's a new post-s11 novel out, and although reviews for the book as a whole are mixed, it seems to have laid the groundwork for resolving that plot issue in a way I think most fans would be broadly happy with. If you're interested in being spoiled about that and seeing how, I recommend searching #perihelion on @agent-troi who liveblogged reading it with receipts, scroll back chronological-style to the first post on the subject and see how it unfolded. (And never forget that Dana Katherine Scully is the queen of denial as a coping mechanism lol)

Everyone's mileage will vary. Each person can feel however they want! But for anyone new, I wanted you to know that the very many ventposts you might be seeing are not all there is to this show or its fandom. Some of us love it despite - or even because of - all the things that went "wrong". I think we just don't talk about it as much.

[moni-logues]

Kintsugi 15

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 6.8k

Content: references to self-harm, description of self-harm scars, some chat about self-harm; oral sex (m. and f. receiving), fingering, protected sex

A/N: I said I'd make it clear, so let's do that: IT'S THE END! THE FINAL ONE!! THE LAST CHAPTER! IT'S DONE!!! IT'S FINISHED!!! NO MORE!!! NO MAS!!!! FINIT!!!!! 끝!!!! 끝!!!! 끝!!!!

I was so relieved to finish this yesterday and thought I would be glad more than anything to post this and finally (FINALLY!!!) bring the series to a close, but I honestly do also feel kind of sad it's over. We've been together over a year now, these characters and me; I've been actually writing them for a year but they first popped into my head 18 months ago. And now we're at the end.

Huge thank you to everyone who has beta'd for me, inc. for this chapter @quarter-life-crisis2 and @here2bbtstrash, @minttangerines, @blog-name-idk, and Amethyst

Thank you to everyone who has left comments and come along on this journey with me; it has meant SO much to me to have your investment in and enthusiasm for this story. It has made it so rewarding to tell and I hope you like their ending.

Without further ado...

Chapter Fourteen | Masterlist | Bonus Drabble 1

Chapter Fifteen - Spring

Chapter Fifteen - Spring 

You rested your head gently against the window, watching the people come and go. The cherry blossoms had fallen already, gathered in gutters and collected in corners. You were always sad to see them go, but this year, you felt like they had given you something. Summer, of course, as always: the heat, the sun, the long days, the blessed relief of an ice-cold drink and even colder air-conditioning. This year, the cherry blossoms had brought you something else. Truly like confetti, they had blown around you, whirled around you, celebrating your first week of From Now On.  

You didn’t say that you were getting ahead of yourself. Not this time. Because you weren’t that anxious about it, as much as that surprised you. You had all the anticipation of your first day at school with none of the nerves. The cherry blossoms had gone but they hadn’t left a hole; you couldn’t feel their absence because your life felt abundant. Last year, when you had watched them bloom and fall and fade away, you had been empty. All the joy they usually brought you couldn’t touch the sides of your despair. It hurt more to see them ushering in spring when you felt stranded alone in winter. But now you weren’t alone. Not even close. 

It was a fairly mild day, just the cool side of hot, and still. You had been impatient and got ready early, hence the sitting and staring. Yoongi wasn’t due for another five minutes, but you’d been there for twenty already. You imagined you might see him on his approach to your building and get to observe him, unnoticed. You wondered what he was doing right now – driving? In a taxi? On the subway? Was he already on his feet, close to you? Was he nervous? You thought he would be. His shyness recently reminded you of when you first met, those tentative overtures of friendship, the thrill you felt when he opened himself up to you. 

It was not unlike the thrill you felt now, waiting for him to pick you up for your very first date.  

When he was due in no less than two minutes, you stood and moved to your mirror. You had, initially, planned to wear something that you considered sexier – that is to say, more form-fitting, a little more scandalous, a dress that showed off a little more of what your mother gave you – and then you changed your mind. You didn’t need to do that, because Yoongi already knew. He had already seen what lay beneath and it was all for him now anyway. So you dressed a little more comfortably, in a dress with a little more give, a little more fabric and flounce. You looked cute; you wanted Yoongi to think you looked cute.  

Then, as you always did, you heard his footsteps. 

“Babe!” you cried, leaning out of your door to see him coming from the end of the corridor.  

But you almost didn’t manage to say anything at all because, whilst you had expected Yoongi, you hadn’t expected Yoongi in a suit, holding flowers. It stopped you short; you had been about to run out to him, jump into his arms, do something silly. Instead, you were flustered, grinning at him from your doorway, your heart going like the clappers and your blood roaring in your ears because god-fucking-damn, had he always been that handsome? 

“No!” he called back. “Go back inside! What are you doing?” 

What were you doing? Short-circuiting, a little. His hair was still long and you imagined it twisted between your fingers, soft and pullable; he was smiling, even as he scolded you, all his little teeth on display. You had always liked a man in a suit – you must have said it a thousand times – but you had not been prepared for how much you liked this man in a suit. You were going to have to get some kind of grip if you were going to make it through dinner.  

“I’m saying hello!” you called back, a little too loudly now that he was closer. “I was going to run out to meet you!” 

“Get back inside! I’m supposed to be picking you up! I need to knock on your door!” 

Truthfully, Yoongi would have loved to have you run out of your apartment and into his arms, even if he’d tumbled, you’d stumbled, you’d both fallen to the floor in a bumped, bruised heap. He’d have loved to have thrown all caution to the wind and run away with you. But all of that was still overwhelming, far too much good for a boy who still thought he was bad, and there was a process to be followed, procedure. He was clinging to that. Like a life raft.  

Yoongi had practised. In as much as you can practise speaking to a friend without actually speaking to them. He had forgotten, in all his anxiety about dating you, about being with you, being seen by you, that you were his friend. He’d had these feelings for you from the very beginning and they had never paralysed him like he felt they were now. He knew sex was not the (only) answer, that sooner or later, he was going to have to remember how to act around you. So he called each of his friends in turn to hang out with them, to remind himself, firstly, that he had them, that he was likable; secondly, that he enjoyed their company—he enjoyed company in general, more than he would ever let on; thirdly, that he could be good company: he got a laugh out of every one of them. That had to count for something.  

And he bought you flowers. Because they would provide a good distraction in case all of these remembrances fell out of his head the second he saw you. And because he wanted to, because that’s what you should do when you take someone out on a date. He knew you liked tulips and it was tulip season. It felt right. And it released a little of his impulse to shower you with things, to buy things for you and haemorrhage cash to make him seem worth it.  

For the longest time, money had been all he had. He had laughed out loud in his therapist’s office when he said that because, for the longest time, money was all he didn’t have. The not-having of money was the very thing that defined his life and set him on this path; it was the bedrock beneath the biggest of his life’s decisions. And then it became all he had. All he had to offer. He was still learning that maybe there were other things, too. 

You did as you were told and shut the door, palms pressed against it as you listened to your heart and tried to make it slow. Then you waited six seconds until you heard his first knock. 

“Oh my god, hi!” you exclaimed. “I had no idea you were here!” 

Yoongi pretended he wasn’t grinning and shot you a look. 

“Shut up,” he replied. “I bought you these.” 

Tulips. Your favourite flower. You didn't remember ever telling Yoongi that, but maybe he just knew. They were another reason that April was your favourite time of year. Seoul Forest was full of them, hundreds, thousands of them blanketing the banks. There was a rainbow of colour in every direction; tall heads on sturdy stems barely touched by breezes, swaying like a choir. It was like a pilgrimage; you went every year. Maybe this year, you would take Yoongi.   

“They’re beautiful, thank you.” 

You took them from him, not bothering to try to restrain your smile from splitting your face in half, and leant in to kiss him. Then you stopped. 

“Are we allowed to kiss?” you asked, one inch from his face. Then you moved away and started looking in cupboards for a vase you weren’t sure you owned.  

Yoongi looked confused.  

“Y’know, kissing on a first date?” 

He still looked confused. Then you remembered. You laughed. 

“Oh, of course, that’s right. You’re Mr Fucks on a First Date, aren’t you?” 

You expected him to be surprised; you hoped he would be a little flustered, hoped you would get to see that pink creep onto his cheeks in a way that was just too cute. Instead, he grinned and you felt your own cheeks heat. 

“Is that a promise?” he asked and your stomach swooped.  

You had found a vase, tipped flower food into it, and were gently arranging the stems. You abandoned them in favour of moving closer him, then a little closer, slowly closer, until your lips were almost on his.  

“Cheeky,” you muttered, eyes flicking down to his lips, amaranth pink and just a little pouty. You bit your own. 

Yoongi hummed. 

“So is that a yes?” 

“Only if you play your cards right.” 

You dragged your eyes up and slowly pressed a kiss to his mouth. His hands settled on your hips and you couldn’t stop yours from reaching up, tangling one in his hair, using the other to rake through the dark locks you hoped he never cut. It wasn’t exactly the kind of grip you needed to get, but every atom of your body was asking for more. It was intoxicating to be kissed by him. 

It was Yoongi who broke from you (you did not have the same level of restraint), his mouth lifting in a grin as he nodded his head slightly towards the counter, where your tulips stood in their vase. 

“Did I mention I got you flowers?” 

“You might need to tell me one more time.” 

You weren’t nervous. Not at all. On the one hand, you felt like you should be, because it was Yoongi and this felt enormous. When you stood back and looked at it, it was huge. He was one of your two (2) friends in this world and you were ruining your friendship good and proper. You could still remember the sharp-toothed despair that wound around you like a strait-jacket after what happened with Sungbin; you remembered the suffocating heartbreak of San leaving you. You knew that it could happen here. There wasn’t a guarantee that Yoongi was The One, that you were The One for Yoongi. It should have scared you.  

But it didn’t. It was too hard to be anxious sitting across from him at dinner, as if you hadn’t sat and done this very thing with him dozens of times before. It was impossible to worry about whether or not he liked you when he looked at you like that, when he smiled in that way that you had always suspected was just for you. You knew he liked you because he was here. He had asked for this date and bought you flowers and he was laughing and teasing and being exactly the person you knew him to be. That didn’t make you nervous.  

Yoongi had picked the restaurant carefully. Not too fancy, not too quiet, not too busy, not too empty, not too casual. He had spent a great many hours trawling the internet for reviews and photos and listings. He wasn’t usually this obsessive, but so much about it all had felt out of his control and this was in it. So he was going to get it right. 

Sitting across from you, he knew he needn’t have bothered. Because he knew you didn’t really care. He wasn’t even sure, sometimes, if you knew what you were eating, because you barely stopped talking to shove it in. You spoke around the food in your mouth and whirled your chopsticks around as you gestured. You picked things off his plate and dropped pieces of your own food onto it. You had this way of creating a world around yourself, such that he forgot where he was; he forgot there was anyone else around, anything else to think about. And he realised he could have taken you anywhere and it would have been just exactly this good. Because it was you. 

“Do you want to go for a drink or something? I looked up a couple of bars not far from here,” Yoongi said as he led you, your hand in his, from the restaurant. 

You leant up against him, shook your head and pouted. 

“No?” 

You shook your head again. 

“Ice-cream?” 

Not that either. 

“Ok... Do you want to go home?” 

“Yes, please.” 

Yoongi seemed surprised and you saw his eyes dim and realised—too slowly, clumsily for too much wine—that you had not exactly said what you meant. 

“I want to go home with you, please,” you clarified, still pouting up at him. 

“Oh.” 

It took Yoongi a couple of seconds to recalibrate, then he smiled down at you with a twinkle in his eye. 

“Miss Fucks on a First Date, is it?” 

You punched him playfully in the arm and he didn’t bother to act like it hurt.  

“Do you want a drink?” Yoongi offered as you slipped off your shoes inside his apartment. 

You shrugged. You would have one if he wanted, but you didn’t need one. You felt lush and warm and relaxed enough already. And truthfully, you were at home now, in the privacy of his apartment; you didn’t want to waste a minute with your mouth on anything that wasn’t him. 

You kissed him, soft at first, because you did want to fuck on your first date, but you weren’t an animal; you had some patience. Or, that’s what you thought as you pressed your lips against his, but the thought washed away like writing on the sand as soon as you tasted him. All your impatience, all your greed, all your excitement came rushing forward, into the fray, a tsunami of feeling, all good, all for him, all surging through you like a stampede. 

“I never,” you started, interrupting yourself with another kiss, one more. “I never want to stop kissing you.”  

“Then don’t.” 

You moaned into his mouth and pressed your body against his, suddenly too warm, hot, the fabric of your dress burning where it brushed your skin. You pushed Yoongi’s jacket off his shoulders and pulled at the knot of his tie. He laughed against your lips and pulled back. 

“You know you’re just making it tighter?” 

You whined and let him take over, deftly undoing the damage you’d done and loosening it properly, pulling it through the collar of his shirt and dropping it on the floor. You thought that was quite long enough to not be kissing, to not be held so tight against him, you could practically feel his heartbeat in your chest, but he held you back.  

When he started walking away from you, you rushed after him, grabbing his hand as he opened his bedroom door. 

“Cherry?” he called softly, padding over to the bed, where she was curled up on the pillow. “You have to get the fuck out of here, ok?”  

She ‘mrowed’ at him and rolled onto her back, exposing her exquisitely soft underbelly for strokes, purring when Yoongi put his hand on her. You thought to yourself that you would quite like to be the one purring under his touch, but had to accept that being jealous of a cat was insane, even for you.  

“Come on,” he said encouragingly, lifting her up and walking away from you yet again, taking her out to the living room and placing her on the sofa.  

“You mean you don’t even give her a free show?” you asked when he returned to the bedroom. 

Yoongi’s face flattened and he looked at you, pretending not to be amused.  

“Would you like to fuck in front of my cat?” 

You jumped up and skipped over to him with a giggle. 

“No, thank you!”  

You wrapped your arms around his neck and wasted no time reconnecting your mouths. Yoongi, now the cat was out of the room and the door firmly shut, seemed as impatient as you were, his hands sliding under the skirt of your dress and up, slipping beneath your underwear and squeezing at your backside. His mouth moved to your jaw and then your neck, sucking soft kisses into your skin, holding you firmly close to him. 

You were impatient because you wanted more, more, and even more of him and you wanted it now. But you also wanted each moment to last. Every time his lips met your skin, they felt softer; every time his tongue rolled over yours, he tasted sweeter; every time his hands squeezed, you felt your heart race a little faster. You wanted him immediately and you also wanted it to last forever. You couldn’t get enough of him. 

He moved his hands upwards, outside your dress, and made light work of the buttons at the back that had honestly taken you forever to do up by yourself. You hummed. 

“You’re good at that.” 

“Hm?” 

“Good with your fingers.” 

He chuckled and flicked you lightly with one hand whilst his other freed a button from its clasp.  

“Is that right?” 

“Shut up, you know what I meant.” 

“I know exactly what you meant.”  

You shivered, even in the warm room, in the bright light of the sun streaming in through the window, when he pulled your dress off and you let it pool on the floor. You didn’t have time to be self-conscious, even if you might have otherwise, because Yoongi was on you, pushing you towards the bed until you were flat on your back, his mouth exploring your body as if he’d forgotten every inch of it in the last week. He hooked his fingers around your underwear and tugged down; you shuffled in response, lifting your hips and wriggling out of it in a way that was less than dignified, and less than efficient, but you didn’t want Yoongi to move off you, didn’t want to sit and then stand so you could do the job properly.  

Naked, again, beneath Yoongi, fully-clothed, you held tight to his shirt collar and hoped he would let you know what he wanted. You wanted to let him lead. 

And lead he did. He pulled one of your hands to his shirt buttons and you experimentally popped one open. He led your hand to the next one. You worked your way to the bottom, pulling the ends from his trousers, kissing him: his cheek, his jaw, his neck. He wouldn’t look at you and you could see the red on his ears; if you pressed your hand against his chest, you could feel the thump of his heart like a hammer.  

“Baby,” you whispered as you slowly slid your hands under his shirt, his body warm against them, soft, not smooth.  

He gave no reply and you nudged him gently with your nose. 

“Baby, look at me.”  

It took seconds that felt like minutes before his eyes met yours. They were guarded, unsure, a little bit afraid. You kissed his lips and smiled. 

“We can stop here,” you reminded him but he shook his head.  

“Go on.” 

“Are you sure?” 

He nodded but his eyes were elsewhere again.  

You pushed your hands along his chest, around his shoulders, forcing the shirt to fall to the bed. You let your hands see him first, your lips still employed on his neck. He was soft and warm and the dip of his spine slightly damp with sweat. You felt them before you saw them, laddering down his arms, criss-crossing his chest, a handful near his hip that were rough and scabbed, still healing.  

It hadn’t occurred to you until that moment that you had never seen Yoongi in a T-shirt. That he always wore long sleeves. You hadn’t noticed. Now you knew why. 

Yoongi’s face was pink now, a little pained, uncomfortable. Embarrassed. Yoongi wanted to burst into flames and drown himself both at once. He didn’t dare open his eyes because he knew he’d not be able to see for tears. He was holding his breath, waiting for something he desperately didn’t want to happen, even though it always had. The shock, the disgust, the reluctance, the holding at arm’s length. 

You took his hand and kissed his palm, kissed the single, thick, raised scar on his wrist and all the smaller ones that followed. You turned him around, guiding him gently so he lay against the headboard, so you could kiss him all over, each and every one of them.  

“Babe,” you called to him, crawling up his body until you hovered over him, resting on your hands.  

Then you lowered yourself on top of him, skin to skin, and stroked through his hair. 

“Hey,” you tried again and Yoongi nodded slightly. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” 

“Are you ok?” 

He nodded again.  

“Gonna look at me and say that?”  

When he looked at you, it was a Yoongi you had never seen before. Shy and defeated and embarrassed and sad and there was something hurt in his eyes that almost made you angry – because no one was allowed to hurt him. That wasn’t supposed to happen.  

You kissed him once and then again and he cleared his throat lightly. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Are you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yoongi...” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Do you want to stop?” 

“No.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Some of the hesitation in his face left him then and he looked at you. 

“Have you changed your mind?”  

It was a little defensive, the barest hint of a challenge in his voice. 

“No,” you answered. “Why would I have changed my mind?”  

He looked away again, not answering, though you didn’t need him to. You both knew. But that would never have changed your mind. He could have been covered in slime or secretly a lizard-person and you’d have been just as soft for him as you were now.  

Though you were glad that he was neither.   

“It doesn’t bother me,” you continued. “Well, it does--” You noticed the clench of his jaw-- “because I know what it takes to do it...” You traced your finger lightly over the scars on his arm. “I know exactly how it feels and I hate that you know, too. I wish I could take it all away from you. So that bothers me. Because I don’t ever want you to feel like it’s something you have to do.  

“But-” you pushed yourself up a little, sitting on his lap and pressing your hands to his chest- “actually, also, they’re proof you’re still here, y’know?” Your hand circled his wrist and you pressed your thumb against the worst scar there. “You might not have been. Any one of these could have been the last one, right? But they weren’t. It’s like... every time you do it, it’s a little bit of effort towards staying alive because there’s something worse you could do but you’re not doing that. So it’s proof. Proof that you’re here and trying and you’ve been trying and I, for one, am very glad you are still here. More than glad.” 

He didn’t reply. You shrugged. 

“And you’ve seen mine. My body is not exactly unscathed.”  

“There’s nothing wrong with your body.” His voice was stronger, more like his own. 

“And there’s nothing wrong with yours.” 

Yoongi had to get out from underneath you, had to stop you looking at him, at least for a moment. He knew that it had to happen, that you had to know, but this was too much. Too much of what he didn’t want and not enough of what he did. He didn’t want to talk about it or think about it. His chest was tight and he felt unsteady and he so badly just wanted to get back to you: you, naked in this bed, with him. 

He sat up and his arms came around you and you relished the feeling of your skin on his, nothing but warmth between you. He kissed you, insistent this time, impatient again. He wanted you on his tongue, in his hands, enveloping him. He wanted to serve himself up on a plate for you, kneel and kiss your feet; he wanted to lose himself completely in the sound of you coming undone.  

You shuffled off him and fumbled at his belt, at his zip, pushing them to the floor. You barely noticed the skin there, that was really more scar than skin; you didn’t see the light lines and the dark ones, crossing and re-crossing, thickening, fading, all over. Because it didn’t matter to you. That he wasn’t fresh out of the box, perfect and unblemished. No one was. And you shared a pain; the pain that led to these blemishes, these marks, these scars, it was yours, too.  

So you didn’t see them as they were un-covered, as he stepped out of his clothes, as you took his cock in your hand. Hot and heavy, you pumped slowly, but Yoongi had other ideas.  

He lay you on the bed and spread your thighs, trailing kisses up one side and down the other. You shivered when his hot breath hit your core and again when his mouth met your lips, his tongue licking through your folds. The pleasure felt brand new as he drank you in and you felt the exact right amount of drunk.  

If you’d been sober, this would have been too quick; you’d have been too easy, too alert. It would all have been over too soon. But the alcohol blurred the edges, dulled your senses just enough to allow you to luxuriate in it: the soft, wet pad of his tongue brushing over your clit, then hard as it pushed inside you; the press of his kiss-plump lips, their seal as he sucked at your swollen bud. Like swimming through champagne, everything was fizzing and golden.  

The sun hit Yoongi’s head, so bright it made his black hair brown and it shone. You tangled a fist in it, pulling his mouth closer, tipping your hips and he flicked his eyes towards you. They were deep and glazed and only half-open, his tongue still pressed against you. You whined and rolled your hips, then did it again and he let you rut against his mouth until all your pleasure was coiling tight, down into a heavy ball in your core.  

Then he pulled back and shifted his weight, lifting a hand from your hip. 

“Good with my fingers, right?” he said, a lopsided grin on his face, mouth sticky and shining.  

“Y-e...eess.” 

You answer was punctuated with the slip of those fingers inside you, and your breath hitched by the curling of those fingers, the pressing of them against your front wall. Yoongi lowered himself again and put his mouth back around your clit, the suction hard and sure. You were squirming now, all your muscles tightening, everything drawing down, deep into your core before bursting forward in a wet rush of heat.  

You sighed as your limbs flopped against the mattress and your chest heaved. Yoongi wiped his mouth and knelt back, similarly breathless. He took a hand to his cock and squeezed lightly at the base, hissing slightly as he did.  

You slithered off the bed, to your knees, and tapped Yoongi’s knee, asking him to turn towards you, reaching for him, for his dark, heavy cock, your mouth growing wet at the mere thought of it.  

Yoongi looked hesitant. 

“You don’t have to,” he said. 

You tipped your head to the side and frowned. 

“But... I want to, though?” 

He hesitated a second longer and you thought he was going to say no, but he turned and you did nothing to hide your enthusiasm. You pressed a kiss to the tip and let your tongue lick at the pre-cum dripping from it. Yoongi grunted and you grinned because it had actually been a long time since you’d had this kind of fun. 

It had been a long time for Yoongi, too, since he’d had his dick in anyone’s mouth. He couldn’t even remember the last time. He’d forgotten the heat of it, the softness and strength of a tongue, the looking down at them looking up. It was frankly criminal, he thought, that you could be so cute with a cock in your mouth. It was every bit as good as he might have dreamt, as hot and wet as he might have imagined. You pushed forward and he could feel the back of your throat, see the tears sparkling in your eyes, caught on your lashes. 

He had to stop looking. He tipped his head back and studied the ceiling. He clenched his fists and tried to slow his breathing down because, god, it had been so long and it was you. It was you and you had kissed him all over and you were looking up at him with wet stars in your eyes and your mouth was doing all that to him and he closed his eyes. Then you moaned with the tip of his cock at the very back of your mouth and he almost lost all control. 

He swore, his throat tight, his thighs twitching. He placed a hand on your head and pushed back your hair, tugging ever so slightly to pull you off him. You wiped your mouth and grinned up at him; it was such a sweet, filthy gesture that he almost came again. 

“You ok?” you asked and Yoongi fell to his knees. He answered with a kiss, licking into your mouth, pulling you against him. 

“Yes,” he answered, mumbled against your lips. “Want to fuck you now.” 

“Yes, please.”  

And it was everything you had wanted. Everything you had forgotten sex could be. Yoongi held you close and fucked you slow and you kissed him and caressed him and the world could have fallen apart outside and you would neither have noticed nor cared.  

There was something tearing inside Yoongi and he didn’t know what to do about it. Because you were holding him tight, pulling him so close to you, kissing him and moaning into his mouth and no one had wanted him this close, this soft, this slow for a long time. Ever. He had tried to pace himself before, tried not to rush through it but it was a blur to him now, the frenzy and the nerves and the uncertainty of it all rendering it choppy and indistinct. Whereas this was full high-definition. This, you, the way you touched him and looked at him, the way you said his name... it was like a dream. Like something he never thought he would have. The luxury of your warm body so close to his; the indulgence of your lips against his and your eyes sparkling like you had never seen a sweeter sight than him. That you wanted him. That you wanted him and let him know it. That you wanted all of him, as you ran your hands down his arms, as you squeezed at his chest and pressed your hand against his back, pulling him closer.  

Because it wasn’t just physical. It wasn’t just the thrust of Yoongi’s hips, his cock buried deep in your wet cunt; it wasn’t just the slap and slick of damp skin and arousal; it wasn’t just the pleasure you felt in your core expanding outwards, the heat in your blood, and tingling in your toes. It was all-encompassing; it was everything. It was this person who knew you, all the bad bits as well as the good, knew you and saw you and held you like you were precious. It was feeling safe and cherished and valued. It was knowing that your feelings were reflected, returned, reciprocated. It was the sweetness of finding someone who lit you up and being able to light them up the same way.  

When you lay, side by side, spent and sated, you felt like you were glowing. You rolled onto your side, into Yoongi, as he rolled into you and you kissed him again, for the hundredth time or thousandth, it still wasn’t enough. 

You slept soundly, without dreaming, without waking, until the sun was high in the sky again the following morning. You turned onto your back, throwing an arm behind you as you went, expecting it to hit Yoongi next to you.  

But he wasn’t there. You rubbed your face and pushed yourself into a seated position, assuming he was in the bathroom and would return momentarily.  

Then minutes passed and he was nowhere to be seen. You stood and scanned the floor for your underwear. Your dress was already picked up and placed over the back of a chair; Yoongi’s clothes, you could only assume, he had put in the laundry already. Your underwear was not hiding under your dress. You dropped to the floor and onto your hands and knees, to look down under the bed. 

“Aha!” 

“Aha, what?” 

You hit your hand on the bedframe as you quickly pulled it back and span to face Yoongi, standing in the door with an iced coffee in each hand and a paper bag hanging from his wrist. He looked at you with his eyebrows raised, bemused but charmed. 

You twirled your knickers on one finger.  

“Thought I’d lost them. They were under the bed.” 

Yoongi merely ‘ah’ed and nodded, placing breakfast on the dressing table and swapping his jeans for light pyjama trousers.  

“Did you bring me coffee?” you asked sweetly, knowing the answer. 

“And pastries.”  

You jumped to your feet and gratefully accepted his offerings, taking a long draw from the straw of a coffee so sweet and milky it might as well not be coffee anymore. 

“Do you know how much sugar is in those, by the way?” 

“Yep! That’s why they’re so delicious!” 

“They’ll kill you.” 

You shrugged. 

“Oh well. I died doing what I loved: drinking sugary coffee.” 

Yoongi chuckled and stepped forward until you were within arm's reach. You could feel his hesitation, so you took it from him, stepping into his body and offering him a kiss.  

“Thank you.”  

“Do you want to get back into bed?” 

You couldn’t imagine anything you wanted more.  

* 

You could hear something out in the hall, something maybe like a cat’s purr, but also not a cat’s purr. Some sort of buzzing, intermittent enough that you told yourself you were imagining it at first. But it just kept coming. 

“Do you hear that?” you interrupted Yoongi to ask and you held your hand up for silence as you listened for it.  

A jarring, quiet kind of noise.  

“Sounds like a phone vibrating,” Yoongi offered.  

“Oh fuck!” 

You scrambled, ungracefully, out of bed, still in just your knickers, and found your phone, buzzing against your keys, half falling out of your bag.  

Taehyung.  

“Hi, baby!” you greeted, overly cheerful because you hadn’t checked the time and you were almost certain he was calling because you were late. 

You had planned to have brunch and a debrief. You had forgotten all about it. 

“When are you coming home? I’m bored.” 

You pulled your phone away from your ear and, upon noting the time, realised that you weren’t late at all. Not even close. 

“What do you want, Teddy? I’m seeing you later.” 

“I know, but I’m bored now and you’re a dirty, little stop-out.” 

“Entertain yourself! I’ll be home when I’m home. I'm not leaving now just because you’re bored.” 

He sighed dramatically at the other end of the line. 

“So I suppose it’s love, then, is it?” 

The word made your heart skip a beat and you didn’t turn around, just in case Yoongi was looking at you.  

“Maybe.” 

“You sicken me.” 

“Fuck off. You’re happy for me.” 

“Yes, I am, babygirl. I’m very happy for you but I’m also very lonely and bored. Can’t you just come home a bit early? Yoongi will still be there tomorrow but I am fading away by the second.” 

“Dying from lack of attention?” 

“Exactly.” 

“I’ll be home when I’m home, Teddybear. Try to make it until then.” 

“Alright, but you’ll be sorry when I'm gone.” 

“Extremely. Now leave me alone!” 

He heaved another dramatic sigh before hanging up and you skipped back to the bedroom. 

“Everything ok?” Yoongi asked as you settled back in his arms. 

“Teddy’s being needy.” 

“Do you need to go?” 

“Absolutely not!” You snuggled in tighter and pressed your lips to his chest. “Not until the very last minute, please.” 

Love. You thought about the word when you left Yoongi’s apartment very late that morning. You wanted to say it then and there, tell him, but it felt like a lot. It felt like your usual Too Muchness coming back. You had only been on one date. It was a lot of pressure to put on a person and you didn’t want to pressure Yoongi. You didn’t want to push him. You didn’t want to take control and careen this fledging thing straight into a ravine.  

It felt natural. It felt easy. It felt like everything you had wanted. It felt so right that it was maddening to you that it had taken you so long to see it. But you also understood that that had to happen. The time it took you to see Yoongi like you did now was time you spent getting things wrong and hurting and healing the wrong way and then the right way and you knew that this, this happiness you had that made you glow, that made your steps feel light, it was a result of that time, that patience. So you didn’t want to rush. Didn't want to push. You would still love him tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that and on and on and on. It could wait. 

* 

Until six days later, when you were sitting on the subway on your way home from work and you snapped. You didn’t want it to wait. You wanted to tell him. And you knew you could. You could say it and he could not and you would survive that. You would understand. And it wouldn’t matter because you knew he was in this, knew he would get there if he wasn’t there already. You chided yourself for waiting at all, because love should never have to wait. Love should be shouted from the rooftops, shouldn’t it? 

So you got off at a different stop and changed lines and you walked as fast as you could to Yoongi’s building and you let yourself in. 

“Babe!” you cried as you hastily kicked off your shoes and rounded the corner into the kitchen, a little out of breath. 

“Are you ok?”  

Yoongi had his apron on, a knife in his hands, vegetables on the chopping board in front of him and it was so sweet, so domestic, a perfect vision of everything you wanted. He was looking at you with concern, as well he might, given you had just burst in, unannounced, in all kinds of a fluster. 

You nodded. 

“Yeah,” you panted. “I just had to tell you. I love you.” You moved closer to him; he put the knife down and wiped his hands on his apron and you held tight to it. “I love you. As in, I am in love with you. I love you so much. And I know, I know, it’s been no time at all and it’s too soon and it’s too quick and you don’t have to say it and I don’t want to put any pressure on but I just want to tell you. I have wanted to tell you and I wasn’t going to because- because all of the above! But I love you and I want you to know that I love you. I’m in love with you, Min Yoongi.”  

He blinked a little and then a bit more. 

“Oh.” 

He sounded surprised and you laughed because you were nervous and because you felt giddy and silly and so in fucking love. You tugged him closer with his apron and kissed him, firmly at first, then softer when he kissed you back and rested his hands on your hips.  

“I love you.” 

He said it quietly, his mouth still close enough to yours that you could feel his lips move with the words. You laughed again and kissed him again and whispered it back to him.  

“I love you.” 

Chapter Fourteen | Masterlist | Bonus Drabble 1

Taglist: @chimmisbae, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld, @tarahardcore, @simp47koreancrackheads, @xyahrinx, @olyd, @diorh0seokie, @thelilbutifulthings, @acquiescence804 

[fannyyann]

Tkachuk tells NHL.com how change in approach lifted game for Panthers

Forward no longer playing it safe, becomes ultimate clutch player in Florida

FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. – There was a time in Matthew Tkachuk’s life when he played it safe. It’s hard to remember now, hard to get that image out of your head, the one where he is crushing opponents and taking over Stanley Cup Playoff games and literally walking off the ice after scoring a game-winning goal in the fourth overtime of Game 1 of the 2023 Eastern Conference Final. 

It’s hard to remember there was a before. 

But there was.

Once upon a time, like most mortals, Tkachuk didn’t want to make a mistake. He didn’t want to be blamed. He didn’t want to err, to let down his teammates, the fans, himself. It was a time when he wasn’t quite as confident, wasn’t quite as assured -- if that can be believed -- when he didn’t know that, for him, safe was the riskiest play of all. 

“I think maybe earlier in my career, being a young player, not wanting to be the guy that made the mistake, [I] maybe played a little bit safe in the high-pressure situations,” Tkachuk said. “Just trying to play it smart and, honestly, safe’s a perfect word for it. 

“And then a couple years ago, I was like, why not make the play when nobody else wants to try to attempt it because they’re too nervous [about] what bad’s gonna happen? And I’ve seemed to go the other way, in the extreme other way, and that’s seemed to work the last few years.”

Tkachuk pinpoints it exactly, to 2021-22, his final season with the Calgary Flames, before the trade, before he landed in South Florida and became a genre-crossing star, before he helped propel the Panthers to the Stanley Cup Final last season. 

“I was like, ‘Why not?’” Tkachuk said. “Why wouldn’t you want to be the guy that can make that right play at the last minute of the game or whatever? … I’m like, I’m capable, I feel like I’m a good enough player where I can be confident in myself no matter what the situation is. And that’s just kind of kept going.”

The Panthers and Tkachuk will need it to keep going, as they head to the playoffs having hit a tough skid of late. The Panthers, who are set to face the Boston Bruins at TD Garden on Saturday (3:30 p.m. ET; ABC, ESPN+, SN, TVAS), are 3-6-1 in their past 10 games, including a 6-0 win against the Ottawa Senators on Thursday. 

They are second in the Atlantic Division, four points behind the Bruins, having clinched a playoff spot on March 28, a far cry from last season when the Panthers clinched with a single game remaining on their schedule. They then fell behind 3-1 in the best-of-7 first-round series against the Bruins. That was when they -- and Tkachuk -- came roaring back to force a Game 7. To win that Game 7. 

“I knew what he could bring on a stage like that, but I don’t think the whole rest of the world knew what he could do,” brother and Senators captain Brady Tkachuk said. “So for him to show what he was all about is pretty cool. And I think he’s got another level to his game.”

Paul Maurice thinks he knows why. 

The Panthers coach has seen a handful of players in his career who are elite, who might even rise to the level of potential Hockey Hall of Fame players. And when he’s viewing them, he notes something, something that seems to be common to all of them.

“I watch them and they have a higher expectation of the result,” Maurice said. “And the analogy I used [was] when that guy goes in and buys a suit, he expects it to fit right and it’s going to look good. He has an expectation of the result. 

“With Matthew, it seems to me, it’s tied, there’s four minutes [left], he’s excited about that situation because he has a really high expectation that something good’s going to happen because over the course of his life, that’s exactly what’s happened. It wasn’t a lottery. It’s just he’s gone out and made it happen, so he wants to and believes it can. 

“I never sensed any arrogance on him. I truly have not. It’s not like, hey, give me the puck, I’m the shooter. He just thinks when he hits the ice, it could happen, and his life has told him that it could happen. So why wouldn’t you enjoy the hell out of that?”

Oh, and he is. 

Not only has South Florida been a revelation for Tkachuk, so too has the team, which has entered into the top echelon of the NHL. He has figured out himself and his game, not only that he can -- and will -- come up big in the biggest of moments, but that he can also adjust to fit what the team requires, mold his game to the situation. 

Asked if he is a chameleon, he readily agrees. 

Especially in the playoffs. 

“I look at those types of playoff games differently,” Tkachuk said. “Like some people if they’re not producing, they’re not doing too much to help their team, whereas one of the good things that I’m able to do is recognize what my team needs out of me on that particular night or that particular shift. 

“There are some nights when offense comes second and all I’m trying to do is run around, be physical, try to forecheck and try to gain my team momentum like that. Even if teams are keying in on me or really focusing on me, there’s ways to make an impact.”

No one can argue with that. The Bruins still bear the scars -- some literal, some figurative -- of what Tkachuk did to them in the playoffs last spring. 

In the final four games of the first-round series, Tkachuk had eight points (four goals, four assists) to help them win the best-of-7 series. 

Boston forward Trent Frederic, who traces his understanding of Tkachuk back to basement games as kids in St. Louis, said that he thinks that, likely, had Tkachuk not been on the Panthers, the Bruins would have advanced. 

But he was. They didn’t. And now it’s not hard to believe that many teams are uninterested in seeing the Panthers on the opposing bench in the playoffs, in seeing Tkachuk on the opposing bench. 

Before a cracked sternum forced him to miss the fifth and final game of the last season’s Cup Final, Tkachuk had 24 points (11 goals, 13 assists), including four game-winning goals, in 20 playoff games. 

“So the playoffs, I think the one quote, he’s a [expletive] gamer, that’s how I feel about him in the playoffs last year. And I know it’s profane, but it’s also very specific words, it’s exactly the way I feel about him,” Maurice said. “Sometimes the words just fit. Sometimes they’re casual and you swear too much. Sometimes I do. But that is how I -- a [expletive] gamer. He comes up with the biggest plays time and time again. And his energy level to be able to play at that level, that was specific to the hockey. 

“This year, I’ve gotten to watch what an incredible leader he is.”

He sees it on the bench, in the exhortation of his teammates, in his calming of them, in his barking at them. He sees it when he brought a friend and his two kids into the dressing room after a game in Detroit, when Tkachuk paused in his postgame showering routine to sign a jersey, to take a picture, to get Carter Verhaeghe out of the shower to sign the other jersey. 

“I don’t even blame players who don’t sign,” Maurice said. “But he doesn’t have to do that, and he does that consistently. … It’s not fake. It’s not showy. I think he understands the responsibility that he has and he takes care of it.”

There are so many responsibilities heaped on Tkachuk now. 

He is a leader on the ice and off it. He is the second-leading scorer, with 83 points (24 goals, 59 assists), the top chirper and certainly the most talked about player on the Panthers. And he is ready, once again, to receive that pressure. He is ready for the playoffs. He is ready for the eyes and the lights and all that comes with it.

“I enjoy it,” Tkachuk said. “I think that the high intense games and the rivalry games and the, just like the intense part of the games that some guys might not feel too confident or comfortable, I seem to thrive in them and I love those moments.”

There will be no shortage of those moments in the waning days of the season, in the start of the playoffs, as the Panthers attempt to replicate their Cinderella run to the Final last season -- without the Cinderella part. 

Because much like the Panthers, who have been at or near the top of the NHL all season, there will be no surprises when it comes to Tkachuk. He is known, now. Known for stealing games, for coming up big in the biggest moments, for never, ever playing it safe. 

And when the pressure comes, as it will, he will be right there. 

“Knowing him, that’s going to make him go to another level,” Brady Tkachuk said. “And I think for him, he’s going to love, not the spotlight, but the opportunity that comes from that and what he’s going to be able to do with that. He gets better when the pressure is higher.”

[airas-story]

More than the Idea of Love

“I thought things were going well,” Tony said. “Where did I go wrong?” They’d been ‘not dating’ for the past few months, and Tony… well, he’d thought they were on their way to ‘really dating’. He hadn’t expected their non-break up.

Stephen pursed his lips, and he still wasn’t quite meeting Tony’s gaze. “I’m in love with you.” It wasn’t news, Stephen had been up front about his feelings, as well as his lack of expectations of Tony’s own feelings. It had made for a somewhat awkward first few months of friendship, but they had adjusted. And really, it had taken less than a year for Tony to fall in love with Stephen in return. 

“And I love you,” Tony said honestly, trying to push every ounce of sincerity into the words.

Stephen’s jaw tightened, but when he spoke, there was no denying the pain behind his words. “How sure are you that you’re not in love with the idea of someone loving you?”

The question took Tony aback. In love with the idea of Stephen’s love for him?

It had never really been something he’d considered, but he supposed it deserved his due consideration at the very least. Stephen would certainly never listen to him if Tony didn’t give him at least that much.

But, no, he was pretty sure he loved Stephen, not just the idea of him, or what Stephen had to offer him.

“I don’t like Pink Floyd,” Tony said.

Stephen blinked at the sudden change in conversation. Tony could see that he’d thrown him off guard. “What?” 

“I’m AC/DC all the way,” Tony explained. “They are, without a doubt, the greatest band this world has ever seen and we should all thank Australia for producing them.”

Stephen was looking bemused, now. “Tony, you listen to Pink Floyd in your lab all the time,” Stephen told him. “I know, because you blast it at unhealthy levels and we get into an argument every time until you turn it down to something less likely to cause loss of hearing.”

Tony shrugged. “Admittedly, arguing with you is enjoyable and that’s easy pickings. But Stephen, you like Pink Floyd.”

Stephen still looked somewhat skeptical, as though he saw where Tony was going with this but he couldn’t see just what it meant. “You’re saying that you listen to Pink Floyd, which you apparently hate, because I like Pink Floyd. And that’s… what, a sign that you love me?”

“I also drink tea in the evenings,” Tony offered. “Instead of my preferred coffee.” It was only further evidence after all.

“Tea is better for your health,” Stephen said automatically. Tony saw the moment that Stephen understood where he was going with that particular tidbit. “But you don’t drink it for the health benefits, do you. You drink it because it makes me happy to see you taking care of yourself.”

Stephen still didn’t understand.

“I’d do a lot of things to make you happy,” Tony said quietly. “Stephen, if I loved the idea of you, I’d continue as normal, reassured in the fact that you already love me. Because for some reason you do. But I don’t love the idea of you. I love you, Pink Floyd and evening tea and all.”

Stephen still looked hesitant.

“Is this the point where I admit that your cooking is awful?” Tony asked. “But that I’d gladly eat it for the rest of my life because you get ridiculously proud of yourself when you’ve made something, and I love the smile on your face when I ask for seconds.”

Stephen stared at him. “My cooking isn’t awful.”

“It’s the worst,” Tony told him honestly. He wasn’t sure why Stephen kept insisting that he cook every other time, Tony had offered to order in or do the cooking himself, but Stephen insisted. “And I’d eat it anyways.”

“You love my pasta,” Stephen argued.

Tony huffed a laugh. “Stephen, I’m half-Italian. I have ridiculously high standards for pasta. Though I admit, your pasta is probably your best dish.” Tony had never realized it was possible to both overcook and undercook pasta, but Stephen still managed it. It was almost like magic.

But not the good kind.

But his sauce was decent, so Tony was going to take what he could get.

“You are the only one who has ever liked my cooking,” Stephen admitted. “I should have realized.” His gaze was piercing as he took Tony in. “You’d really eat my cooking for the rest of your life?” Stephen asked.

“And ask for seconds every time,” Tony promised.

A small, somewhat pleased smile crossed Stephen’s face. Tony doubted it was because Tony was willing to eat his cooking.

Tony hadn’t realized just how thoroughly Stephen had convinced himself that everything that Tony had done the past few months, all of the ‘not a date’s that they’d been on, that all of that was because Tony wanted to be loved and thought Stephen was an easy mark.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

He could see that Stephen was slowly taking in his words, was slowly starting to believe him.

And really, if eating Stephen’s terrible cooking was what convinced Stephen that Tony really, truly loved him, not just the idea of him, then that made every single bite worth it.

[sunkissedscribbles]

Prejudiced - Chapter One

this is only a part of the series, the next chapters can be found here

a/n: hey lovelies! i’m starting this ff called ‘prejudiced’ and am gonna be posting the chapters here, as well as on wattpad (more info on my page). i only made a minor change compared to wattpad because i’m going to be merging 2-3 wattpad chapters when posting here. so, here is the first one, i hope you’ll like it!!

word count: 3478

tw: my bad writing.

summary: cassie and mattheo bonding

next chapter>

dividers by @chachachannah

Empty and half-empty bottles of firewhisky all over the place; on tables, under the chairs and the sofas, and loud music — this is how the Gryffindors celebrate a win against any of the other Quidditch teams of Hogwarts. These are the only nights we are "allowed" to stay up late, celebrating and drinking as if we were in a pub. More like, this is the only occasion the teachers don't bother to send us ruthlessly to bed.

The smell of alcohol in the air is sickening and I feel a little bit dizzy as there is no air left in the common room. I get up from the floor where we are sitting in a circle, playing the most cliché game ever; truth or dare, then head toward the portrait hole.

As the portrait shuts behind me, I no longer hear the people who are partying in the common room, nor do I hear the music that is playing in there. For a few moments, the sudden silence is deafening and my ears need a few seconds to recover from the internal beeping in my head.

Now it's silent.

There's not a sound except for the quiet snickering coming from the portraits and for my breathing. The castle is still and as always, it feels like someone's or something's watching me. But I know that's not true as long as I don't spot Mrs Norris. I turn around to see if she's there but as I make sure not a soul is here to catch me sneaking out of the common room at this ungodly hour, I make my way towards the Astronomy Tower, hoping to find peace and some fresh air there.

The noise was too much for me in the common room, the too many people made the air hard to breathe for me, and I started to feel like I didn't occupy my own body, as if I was watching my life and actions from outside my body. It happens quite often, my senses get overwhelmed, and all the impulses I got in the past hour made me a little sleepy and disassociated, that's why I decided to hunt for some peace and air.

As I reach the top level of the tower, I stop for a moment. I can see someone smoking by the railing. How did I not notice the smell of smoke when coming up here? I tend to zone out; I can't even recall my way here and it's so weird when I think about it.

From behind, I can't exactly tell who I'm looking at other than figuring out it's a boy and I'd leave as he must be looking for some alone time if he's here this late, without company but he turns around to see who's interrupting his me-time.

Do boys even have me-time?

It's Mattheo Riddle. My eyes meet his dark brown ones that reflect the moon's bright shine. He stiffens in his whole body as he locks his gaze with mine, the cigarette he was smoking already by his foot, stomped on and I can see his features harden, his hands clenching into fists warningly like he was about to throw punches without hesitation if needed. He probably would, though — he's the kind to get his hands dirty the Muggle way.

I feel sorry for him as I realize only being in someone's company whom he hasn't really talked to before is enough to make him go defensive in a split second. I have honestly always felt a kind of sympathy for him for being instantly prejudiced against by everyone only because of his father. I got judged too, but he for sure has it worse.

I recall the moment from earlier today when Fred and George played a prank on him. I hadn't seen what happened or what the prank was and only got to know anything had happened at all when getting ready for the match. Those two are one year ahead of me and have been my best friends since my first year at Hogwarts. As soon as I overheard they did something to Mattheo that he hadn't even deserved, I scolded them instantly and reminded them how similar my situation is to his; being prejudiced and judged by everyone when learning your surname. They always think of the worst things when they learn I'm a Black-descendant.

For a second, I get quite bold and without even approaching Mattheo, I look into his eyes.

"I want to apologize in the name of Fred and George for what they did today. I know you didn't deserve it and now they know it too." I tell him, not frightened by him a slight bit like other students would be.

"Why would you do that?" he barks back, his tone harsh and incredulous.

"Because those gits are too proud to apologize themselves. The perfect stereotype of a Gryffindor, I guess," I offer him a light smile as I shrug.

He seems cold as ice and it would probably be the best option to leave him alone but staying here is so tempting and I'm willing to earn at least the smallest of smiles from him. There is something in him, in his presence that makes me want to stay here.

I approach and join him leaning on the railing with my forearms as I look up at the sky.

"I thought the sky wasn't so cloudy tonight." I try to engage in small talk with him, getting him to say something but the ice he got himself locked into seems unbreakable.

I must admit we both are in our fourth year at Hogwarts so we are classmates but have talked probably once or twice before; we have never really got the chance to. I have always wanted to talk to him and maybe become friends but he seemed way out of my league; we aren't in the same caste, in spite of having mutual friends. He's the reserved, cold Slytherin boy, Riddle heir whereas I'm a rather cheerful Gryffindor — quite an annoying one, I must admit. But I have always set my hopes high and this moment seems like the perfect chance to try to break the ice. To see what's under that cold gaze, ruthless and mean facial expression. Because from what I've seen so far, he's almost stoic, restrained in a way of keeping any emotions under control — except for his anger. This boy clearly has problems with keeping his temper in check; but don't all who've grown up into families of the Sacred Twenty-Eight?

"You come here often? Haven't seen you here yet." I try to talk to him again and to my biggest surprise, he does answer.

"We don't have to talk. We are only at the same place by pure accident."

His tone is snarky, clearly not in the mood to chat with me but yet again, I am determined.

"You know, you're not the only one with a troubled family line." I turn my head in his direction, my tone somewhat low and serious.

I catch him off guard with this statement and the sudden change in the subject, I can tell that just by how his gaze softens for a moment, losing his indifferent, stern look for a slight second before regaining his will over his expressions.

But as he doesn't reply with anything, I keep on going.

"I get prejudiced a lot too."

"Doesn't seem to affect you," he mumbles under his breath.

"Not a hard thing to cope with," I shrug — it's a lie.

"Easy to say if you're in Gryffindor," he huffs, becoming defensive once again.

"Those are just stereotypes." I brush it off with a bitter undertone to which my shoulders visibly tense up. "I could be in Hufflepuff and be a Death Eater as well. Your house doesn't define you. Slytherins can be good people too. They are just misunderstood."

He thinks about what I have just said. His gaze slowly but surely softens a little.

He lets out a small, bitter laugh that's barely more than the air he blew out through his nose.

"But isn't being in Slytherin in my case a bit..."

"Sinister?" I ask. He nods. "I guess it sounds that a little bit, yeah. But it's up to you what you do with it. I mean, isn't being in Gryffindor as a Black a little..."

"Ridiculous?" now he asks and I nod. "It is. Not ordinary for a Black to go against their family's will."

"My family can suck it," I say straightforwardly. "They are just people who think a big dynasty makes them greater than the rest of the world's population with inbreeding and following the same old-fashioned pureblood-maniac views."

He looks at me, a little taken aback by my bluntness but the side of his lips curl up into a small smirk. This is what I call progress.

"The black sheep of the family, are you then?"

"Could say so," I shrug with a sly smile that's my body's natural reaction to seeing someone smile at me. Plus, I'm happy I've got him to talk to me. I'm making history tonight. "What about you?"

"Me? I thought you know who I am," he smirks humourlessly; I can see a hint of bitterness and pain in his eyes.

"I know who your biological father is but that's only blood, isn't it? That doesn't define you," I smile, trying to enlighten his mood with a sympathetic facial expression.

He bites his bottom lip as he lets out a little chuckle, but again, a humourless one.

"I know you have heard the rumours. Last year, everyone thought I opened the Chamber of Secrets. I'm bloody sick of them thinking they know me only because I'm the heir to the Dark Lord. They think I'm untrustworthy and will stab them in the back as soon as they turn around. And the Slytherins that are Death Eaters' children? They expect me to lead them, they want me to be the next Voldemort now that he's gone," he turns his head facing away from me for a moment, biting his lip again before sighing and looking back at me. "I just want to be normal for once, y'know."

I nod with understanding shining in my eyes. I've been through this too and I'm glad he opened up at least this much; to not become defensive at my every look and word and telling me he's had enough of the judgemental people he's had to face in his life.

I also remember last year, when people were convinced he was the one to open the chamber under the castle's basement until they'd seen and heard Harry interact with the snake summoned by Draco during the duelling lesson.

"Thank you," I say.

He looks at me, confused, "What?"

"You were honest," I smile lightly but genuinely, and to this gesture, his eyes light up a bit but I'm not sure if he's aware of that. "But you didn't answer my question. Who are you?"

A small smirk, that could have easily been missed, appears on his face, "You'll have to figure it out."

The next few days go by with only a slight difference to how it has been before. Due to the amount I have to study, I don't even seem to balance my study time and my free time and I feel like I'm going absolutely insane.

But that is not the difference I'm talking about.

The contrast is, that we always say hi to each other with Mattheo in class and when walking by each other. I know it's not much but I'm just glad we are actually going somewhere and small progress is still progress, isn't it?

Currently, I'm studying in the library, writing my essay for Astronomy class but I just don't seem to be able to force myself to concentrate anymore so I quickly decide to get some fresh air and head to the Astronomy Tower instead. And, listening to Lavender gossiping only a few tables away from me also bothered me so I am glad for a good reason to escape the four walls of the castle too.

I'm pleased to see there's no one up in the tower so I sit down with my back against a large column, and opening my books, I start to finish my essay about myths that have something to do with astronomy. For this topic, I chose the myth of how Perseus saved Andromeda and of course, the antecedents of it; how and why she got on that rock which was her parents' fault — Cassiopeia and Cepheus. Is it egocentric to tell the myth of the woman I got my name after? Those bloody Blacks and their favouritism over fucked up names!

I could've just written about Hercules and include Leo, Taurus, and Hydra. Or could've just put the main focus on Medusa. Screw it...

I get lost in my thoughts somewhere in the middle of a sentence whilst staring up at the sky with my head tilted back against the column. I am completely at ease, zoned out, so much so that I don't even notice the footsteps approaching me, only when I hear someone call my name.

"Black?" Mattheo's voice shakes me out of my thoughts as he looks down at me.

"Hiya, Mattheo," I smile up at him before he sits beside me, looking curiously at the parchment in my hand.

"Whatcha doing?"

"My essay for Astronomy. You done it already?"

"Didn't even know there was anything to do," he shrugs it off nonchalantly. "What's the topic?"

"Myths that have something to do with astronomy."

"You chose Cassiopeia, I suppose?" he looks at me softly, and I nod. I love to see how he let down his shield a little bit already. But I can't get over the fact he knows about the myth. He smiles as he notices the confused look on my face. "You got your name after her?"

"I did. Most members of 'The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black' have their names after objects in the sky. My cousin's got his name after Draco, the dragon. He's a year younger than us."

"Yeah, I know him. He's annoying," he nods and I chuckle at his statement.

We stay silent for a little while, processing the things said between us. My mind is racing, just as usual. Now that I think about it, I think it's unique and a great tradition to name your kids after such things as stars, galaxies, and constellations but I would've preferred a name that's not after a cruel woman like Cassiopeia; I know it wasn't her choice to sacrifice her daughter but if I were her, I'd rather jump into the mouth of the Cetus myself than doing that to my child. But still, I must agree with the fact that my name is beautiful and the meaning of it suits me pretty well; she, who chooses to excel.

"Do you know what your name means?" I ask out of thin air as I shake myself out of my thoughts.

Mattheo looks at me with a confused look on his face; I really did catch him off guard with this question. Me and my impulsivity (and my rushing thoughts), I guess.

"I-I don't know? Never thought about looking it up. Never really cared. Why?"

"Nothing, I was just thinking," I smile lightly, shaking my head, thinking about it. "Could be either the Hebrew or Italian version to the English Matthew which means 'gift of God,'" I squint my eyes slightly while thinking.

He furrows his brows slightly at my explanation and he looks up at the sky. It's becoming darker and darker outside and I can see a bright star already. Must be Sirius, judging by how we are already in February.

I then remember the rumour of Sirius Black being in Hogwarts. How would that even be possible? I mean-

"What is the meaning of your name?" he asks me after a few seconds, interrupting my train of thought.

"She, who chooses to excel," I answer without thinking. The sides of his lips curl into a little smirk.

"Fits you," is all he says. A small smile creeps upon my lips.

We don't talk much more for a long time and I go back to finish the sentence that I stopped writing in the middle, now really intending to finish the essay.

After a few minutes of simply staring at the sky, Mattheo gets up from beside me and walks to the railing, grabbing his pack of cigs. I don't even need to look up to know what he's about to do. His fag is already between his lips but doesn't seem to have a lighter on him, I assume by how he's looking into all of his pockets.

"I think it's a sign to stop damaging yourself, especially at fourteen," I comment in a rather annoyed tone. One thing I could never bear is people smoking around me. They really don't care about the consequences of it, do they?

"Live fast, die pretty," he shrugs. "Plus, I'm fifteen."

I roll my eyes with a little smirk.

"What difference does it make?" I ask but as soon as I say it out loud, a song with the same title starts playing in my head and I can't help but think "What's wrong with me when this happens?" Because it happens a lot.

"Got no light, anyway."

"You've got a wand, dumbass," I chuckle.

He rolls his eyes and pretends to be annoyed as he pulls out his wand from the pocket of his jeans. I look up at him from the bottom of the column with my almost-finished essay in hand; he's wearing a white short-sleeve with a black long-sleeve under it, blue jeans, and his black Converse. We have matching shoes, I think as I look at my feet. I can't hold back a small smile at this coincidence but I can't seem to manage to make up a good reason as to why this triggers such a reaction in me — honestly, I don't even really care.

From the corner of my eye, I sense him looking at me right after I get back to my homework. These are my very last sentences before finishing the essay, now for real, and I can't help but notice how my butt hurts by now; I've been sitting here for almost an hour by this time.

Stretching out and cracking my neck, I get up and walk up to the railing, leaning on it with my forearms next to the boy. The light wind plays with my brown hair as I look down at the water. I shift my gaze up at the sky, admiring the stars that are barely noticeable just yet.

He looks at my face and I don't look at him until I pop out the question that's been bothering me for a while now. "Do you think we have a choice on who we'll be? Like, our kind?"

"Our kind?"

I nod. "Those who come from troubled families and families with great past. Do you think we'll ever be able to just... live a normal life without people thinking we'll bring destruction?"

He thinks for a moment before answering, "I thought you said you'd shown people your family doesn't define you?"

"That's never enough," now it's my turn to let out a bitter laugh. "I could do anything to prove them wrong, they expect me to show up with a Dark Mark one day and cause people's deaths. Just because I came from a pureblood-maniac family with views that support Voldemort even after his fall, even if no Blacks have raised me, even with dancing on the edge of getting disowned, that's not enough."

"No Blacks have raised you?" he asks. I hope that's not the only thing that he caught from what I've said though.

"Dad died shortly after I was born. Grandparents dead, uncle in Azkaban. I mean... he was. Mum has raised me on her own-"

"So Sirius Black really is your uncle," he realizes before stomping on his cigarette and I nod.

"His brother was my father," I answer shortly. "People say I must've helped him escape behind my back."

"Yea, I've heard. So did you?" he asks with a sly smirk to enlighten the mood.

"Shut up, Riddle," I nudge him with my elbow with a grateful, easy laugh. It feels natural to talk to him this openly, for some reason.

"Make me, Black," he leans closer with a grin and I roll my eyes before turning my head to face the sky again. He seems like he's getting comfortable around me by the second which makes me quite... happy.

thank you for reading the first chapter! i intend to release chapters every wednesday. comment if you'd like to be tagged<3