#lily tinted glasses!

[drarrargh]

pov: you’re james fleamont potter💞

[charmsandtealeaves]

Rose Tinted Glasses

Some Lily Evans angst angst angst…  Words: 193 Read it on AO3

For years Lily Evans lived her life behind the lens of rose tinted glasses. They made the world seem like it was okay.

She wore them at home. Her sister was only lashing out because they lived apart for so long, they were moody teens, sisters fight sometimes. But eventually the glasses came off and she saw that no, her sister was just twisted, jealous and bitter.

She wore them at school. People were all bark and no bite. No one would think of attacking her or her friends within these walls, under the ever watching eye of Albus Dumbledore. But the glasses came off when she held Mary MacDonald shaking on the stairs.

She wore them with her friend. His interest in dark things was mere curiosity. His house companions made him a victim of circumstance. But the glasses came off when he flung that slur.

She wore them in the order. One of the few safe spaces left now. There was no way someone within could betray them. But the glasses came off when her front door was blown off its hinges and she heard her husband scream “Run! Lily! Run!”

[rblackdeco]

Flower delivery

— pairing: james potter x fem!reader

— summary: james runs to your house to give you flowers

— a/n: happy late birthday to my favourite boy!! this is just pure fluff <3

Beads of sweat are dripping down James' neck, his hair glued to his forehead, and he's panting so much you're worried he might pass out. The streetlights shine down on his hair, a halo made of his curls as he finally stops at your door.

You're at a lack of words. James smiles brightly, like his little run was nothing, despite his state. He thinks he can feel his lungs giving out on him, a slightly sharp pain just bellow his ribcage. It doesn't show on his face. "Hi, love."

"Hi... Are you okay?" A smile curls at your lips, and you know you shouldn't laugh, that the situation could be serious, but your gut tells you it isn't.

"Wanted to see my girl." He answers, smile still on his lips. "'S that okay?"

Your smile grows brighter, lovestruck. "Yeah... Did you run here? It's over four blocks, James!"

"Nine, I..." He stops, catches his breath. He's pretty sure his legs are giving him up. "Was at Remus', and stopped at that uhm, that flower shop you like around his corner? Yeah, Lily didn't want to sell me flowers if I was running to yours. Party pooper. I sent a uber for them." You chuckle, fixing his hair.

"For them?" You smile, glimpse of affection in your eyes. "James, you ran here and sent a uber for the flowers?"

"Uhm, yeah..." James smiles. "And I outrun it... So I can see my girl's reaction." He smirks, but something tells you his lean against the doorframe is more for support and less for charming reasons. The pet name that rolls out of his tongue gives your cheeks a red tint.

"Rather have you in one piece, not looking like you ran four marathons." You say. "Can you sit? And please try to not pass out on my porch?" He nods to you, sitting on the stairs in front of your door with his head on his hands. You chuckle, going inside for a moment to get him a glass of water. His eyes light up as he sees it on your hand.

"You're my saviour, love." He thanks you, chugging the glass down in so little time you wonder if he could've set a record. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, leaning to give you a kiss. Just as he does, a car parks on your street, and a man gets out. James beats you to it, opening the back door to reveal a couple bouquets. You smile to the point your cheeks hurt with it as you walk to him, eyes scanning over the different types and colours of flowers. You don't think you have jars enough for it.

"James-" You begin, but he cuts you right off.

"Only the best for my girl, lovely." James says, picking a daisy to put it on your hair, smiling to you. "C'mon, let's get them inside." You nod to him, picking one of the bouquets in your arms, mostly daisies and lilies, but a few carnations and colorful dahlias pop in the middle. Your fingers grasp against a card and you pull it, recognising James' and Lily's handwriting. It reads: "for my favourite girl", and Lily complements it with tiny letters on the end of the page, as well as some drawings of flowers "This idiot ran to see you, take good care of him".

And it goes without saying you will.

[that-basic-simp]

Water Lily

Mizu X Fem!Reader CW: Uses the scientific term for a man's groin WC: 2.4k+ Uses he/him pronouns at the beginning and then changes to she/her Also POV change at the end

"Mizu?"

"Yes, Mizu."

"Like water."

He nodded his head.

"Interesting name for a man," I said, eyeing him up and down.

He was tall and slender. Raven like hair that was tied into a bun, a Kasa on his head that hid his face if he tilted it down. There were round tinted glasses on his face. Wonder why they were tinted? Was he hiding something that he shouldn't? Such as his eye color. Taking a closer look, even if they were tinted, I could see the shape of his eyes. They were round, not almond. His face was pretty angular, which there were some men here with angular faces, but not like his. He was a peculiar man, I will say that.

"Please, I-I understand if you don't want to take me in, but I need to find shelter for the night. A-And I thought this place was abandoned."

"It wasn't, at one point," I said.

"Did you have a family?"

"Yes. A big one at that."

Looking at the surroundings, Mizu nodded his head, "I can tell by the size of it."

"But we weren't rich enough to live in the big cities like Kyoto."

"So why settle out here? In the middle of no where?"

"It was quiet and there weren't many visitors. Except you."

"I-I don't mean to rush this, but," he shifted and that was when I saw it.

There was blood dripping from his side. Rushing him inside, I closed the door and sat him down.

"Take your shirt off," I said.

"I can handle it myself, thanks," he said.

"Please, you're in need of stitches and you're in no condition of doing it yourself."

"How do you know?"

"Were you the same one to do the patchwork in your shirt?"

Eyeing the white stitches that were haphazardly done, Mizu pouted and sighed.

"Fine. B-But promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Tell anyone who? That I saw a man shirtless? I had male cousins who would swim naked in the river behind the house. I've seen more penises than I'd like to," I sighed.

"I take it you're not fond of it?"

"Never was and never will be."

"Why are you out here all alone?" Mizu asked as I got the needle and thread ready, along with some alcohol.

"My family left me."

"Why?"

"The same reason as to why I never want to sleep with a man, let alone be touched by one."

"B-But why are you helping me?"

"You seem like a nice guy," I said.

"So you don't like men?"

"Not romantically."

"I see," Mizu said. "Well, you're in luck."

"Why's that?"

As soon as Mizu removed his cloak and shirt, I understood why. There was a binding around his chest.

"A woman."

Mizu nodded her head, "Yes."

"Well, do you want me to call you sir or madam?"

"Mizu."

"Mizu? Just Mizu?"

"Yes. Just Mizu."

"Well, if there was one thing that stuck from my family, is I always gave people nicknames. No matter if they were staying for the day or a week."

"Why?"

"Hospitable," I said and got the needle and thread ready, stitching up the stab wound in Mizu's left abdomen.

"Geez, you have a lot of scars over your body. What kind of a samurai doesn't wear armor?"

"I-I'm not a samurai. I have no honor. Unless you count revenge honorable."

"Why the revenge?"

There was a long pause.

"I know it's easier said than done, but you can trust me. Not like I have anyone to tell your secrets to. I do live alone."

"Surprised you haven't gone insane," Mizu said.

"You and me both."

"Do you remember when the four white men came to Japan?"

"My parents told me about it. Caused a big stir."

"I was the product of one of them. He slept with my mother and she had me."

"C-Can I look at something?"

"What?" Mizu turned towards me.

Reaching up, she flinched away, causing me to retract my hand. Slowly nodding, she leaned towards me. Removing her glasses, I finally found what was hiding underneath. Bright, blue eyes that seemed to shine in the firelight. They reminded me of the river outside, how it shimmered and shined against the morning and evening sun.

"Your eyes," I began.

"Just say it," Mizu said with annoyance.

"Say what?"

"That I'm a demon, an onryo. A dog."

"They're beautiful."

"What?"

"Your eyes, they're beautiful. I haven't seen anything like them."

"O-Oh," Mizu said. "T-Thanks, I guess."

I smiled, "So cold. Yet the minute you're exposed to a burning fire, you freeze up."

"I haven't really been complimented throughout my years of being alive. I was seen as a demon. A monster. That I had no right to be alive."

"But you are, aren't you?"

"Alive only to do one thing and that is kill those white men."

"What do you plan to do afterwards?"

"I don't know."

"Well, you always have a place here, Mizu," I said, taping some gauze around the stitches. I put the binding on her chest and she pulled the shirt up.

"Stay as long as you need to," I said, throwing the needle away.

"You never told me your name," Mizu said.

"Y/N."

"Y/N," she said. "Thank you, Y/N."

"Rest, Mizu. I will fix you up something to eat to help with the healing process.

"How can I repay you?"

"By coming back alive."

"Back where?"

"Here. I like your company."

Even if I couldn't see her, there was a smile across her face. Once I had finished making her something to eat, I sat down beside her and handed her the bowl.

"So, your family," Mizu said.

"Minute they found me with a woman they picked up their things and left."

"Nice of them to leave you a house to yourself instead of throwing you out."

"They went with my aunt and uncle. They're lords so of course they'd want to live in a bigger place than this."

"Of course. The greedy just become greedier."

"But I have found solace within these walls. I thank you for the company," I smiled.

"Thank you for helping me."

I nodded, standing up, letting Mizu have some space and time to eat.

"You're handy with a sword," I said, watching her practice.

It's been a few days since Mizu arrived at my doorstep asking for help, even though she really didn't want it at first. I was sure she would have left by now because of how she spoke of her mission. She was serious and she wanted these people to pay. I felt her pain, her vengeance. But it was killing her on the inside.

"I am handy with other things," Mizu said, wiping some sweat from her face. "Anything is a weapon if you really think about it."

"In your hands, even chopsticks can be a weapon."

She chuckled, "Yeah. I guess they can be."

"Who taught you?"

"Myself."

"Oh, self taught."

"No school would take me. Y-You've seen me. I-I'm a disgrace."

Walking over to Mizu, I raised my hand and placed it against her cheek. Moving her head back a bit, I found her blue eyes.

"Mizu, you're not."

"W-Why do this to me?"

"Do what?"

"Tell me something I am not when I am."

"It were those who claimed you as something you're not. They were telling you you're an onyro, a demon, a dog, whatever they wanted to call you. That is something you're not, Mizu. You're simply a person who is just trying to get by in this world."

"I-I," she reached up and grabbed my hand, nuzzling into my palm. "I-I never really thought about it that way."

"Because you were taught not to show who you really were. Not to be you, Mizu. You had to put a mask on your face and because of it, you hid away and that's really the only thing you know."

Tears streamed down her face as she squeezed her eyes shut tightly. Removing my hand, she let go of it.

"Leave me."

"Mizu, d-did I say something wrong?"

"Just leave," she snarled at me. "And quit pretending you know me."

She walked off and continued to train. That was interesting, but it made her all the more complex.

"I see you're still not gone," I said, sitting down and putting a bowl in front of her.

"And you still haven't given me a nickname," Mizu said, raising the bowl to her lips.

"I haven't thought of a good one."

"Well, my name means water. Shouldn't that mean something?"

"It does, I am trying to find a way to tie that in. But nothing is coming."

"Just call me ocean because I come and go like it."

"Then it would be rain."

"What was your nickname? If your parents gave you one."

"They gave me the nickname of koi."

"Koi? Like a koi fish?"

"Yep. I loved swimming, just like the koi fish. And I had perseverance, especially when it came to learning medicinal soups and what was edible and what wasn't."

"And here I thought you'd poison me," Mizu joked.

"Ha-ha," I said dryly.

"You're actually quite good at it," she said.

"Good at what?"

"Taking care of people. And well, everything you've done for me lately."

"Oh. T-Thank you."

"Didn't think I'd compliment you?"

"N-No, but I just don't see you complimenting someone."

"Really? Why's that?"

"Cold like ice."

"Oh," she sighed.

"But once warm, the ice melts away, leaving water in its place. You're resilient, Mizu. Like water itself."

"A-About the other day," Mizu said.

"Yeah?"

"I-I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have said that to you."

"Well, for someone to say those kinds of things, someone had to be in similar shoes. I was in similar shoes like you. Having to hide who I truly was and then when it came out, I was scolded for it. Seen as a monster. Seen as something anything other than human."

"It must have been hard, having your entire family turn their backs on you when you needed them most."

"It was," I said, picking up my chopsticks and grabbing the noodles. "But like my nickname, I pushed through. I found a way to overcome it and was able to thrive. Now, I find myself in a better place than before. And while I thought it couldn't get any better, you came along."

Mizu picked up her head, "W-What did I do?"

"Gave me another reason to stay here."

"You wanted to leave?"

"I did. I took some jobs from the nearby town and saved up enough money to move into said town. People tried to offer me their homes, but I wanted to earn a house by myself and work there."

"Why haven't you yet?"

"Well, someone by the name of Mizu came to my door the day I was getting ready to pack my things."

Mizu turned away, avoiding my gaze.

"M-My apologies. I-I should have left earlier."

"I enjoy your company, Mizu. I'm glad you stayed for as long as you did. And besides, I think you're all healed up. So you also needed to stay to heal."

"Do you have everything?" I asked Mizu as I straightened out the cloak on her shoulders.

"Yes, I have everything," she said.

I handed her her tinted glasses and she held off putting them on yet. I also handed her a different kind of scarf.

"What's this for?" she asked, taking it.

"A more fashionable scarf to wrap around your neck."

"Why?"

"I don't think you like having whatever you have around your neck. Besides, it'll also keep you warm."

Mizu removed what was around her neck and replaced it with what I had given her.

"I-It is warm," she said, her eyes widening with surprise. "W-What is it?"

"Part of a blanket I had when I was a kid."

"W-Why do something like that?"

"It'll provide you warmth and comfort. And it'll remind you of me."

"I can't thank you enough, Y/N," Mizu said.

"You don't need to. J-Just promise me one thing."

"I-I'll try to."

I reached over and grabbed her hands, holding them gently in mine.

"Promise me you'll come back alive. I don't care if it's in pieces to where I have to stitch you up again," I poked at her abdomen, earning a chuckle from her. Reaching up, I placed my hand against her cheek, caressing the skin. "Just please come back to me."

"I-I'll try to, Y/N."

"Thank you."

"I-I think I might have found a way to thank you."

"How's that?"

Leaning towards me, she placed her lips lightly to the corner of my mouth, pressing a quick kiss. Pulling away, her cheeks flushed. Smiling, I leaned towards her and pressed a light and quick kiss to her lips. When I pulled away, her eyes were wide and her mouth open slightly. Her cheeks went from pink to a deep shade of red. I giggled, seeing her flustered like that. She put her glasses on and tipped her Kasa down over her eyes.

"G-Goodbye, Y/N."

She walked down the path of my house and turned to the left, heading to the nearest city.

"Goodbye, my water lily."

~Mizu's POV~

Walking down the familiar path, I reached up and grabbed onto the scarf, feeling the silk material. A smile crawled over my face when I finally reached the turn that led to her house. Turning, my heart sank into my stomach and my knees got heavy. Rushing towards the house, the once vibrant paint was weathered away and there were boards where the windows used to be. Ivy was growing and grass was overtaking the stone path.

"Y-Y/N!" I called, rushing towards the backside of the house. "Y-Y/N!"

I ran towards the front and let out a silent cry as tears slid down my face.

"N-No. I-I haven't been gone for that long."

Walking close to the door, there was a board covering it so I couldn't even really open it. Stepping closer, there was a little piece of paper sticking out from underneath one of the boards. Grabbing it, I pulled out a letter with my name on it. Opening it with trembling hands, I read the first two words and was immediately running towards that town. I should have known. She mentioned she wanted to move there. I didn't think she'd move that quickly. As I was running there, I was reading the note. Reaching the town, I walked through some crowds of people and before I knew it, I was standing in front of her house. Her new house. There was a bell hanging by the door. Raising my hand, I grabbed the red sting at the end and rang it, a jingle erupting into the air.

"Coming!" her voice called from the inside.

Taking in a deep breath, I let it out and the door opened up.

"M-Mizu?"

"I-I'm b--"

Her arms were thrown around me and she was hugging me tightly.

"I thought you were dead."

Lifting my arms, I wrapped them around her, hugging her tightly.

"I missed you, too."

Pulling away, she cupped my face in her hands. Pulling me towards her, our lips met lightly and I let out a small hum. Oh to be with her after a long time of fighting. Pulling away, she smiled at me.

"My water lily," she breathed out.

Reaching up, I grabbed her hand.

"I don't think koi suits you."

"Oh? Then what should you call me?"

"Mine," I said huskily.

Her eyes blinked a few times and her face turned a bright shade of red. Smirking, I pushed her into the house and closed the door.

"Payback for when I left."

She chuckled, tears forming in her eyes as I reached up and removed my glasses.

"I missed those eyes. I missed you, Mizu."

"I missed you, too, Y/N."

[shuamorollss]

unfortunate unexpectations — l.hs x f!reader

In an everyday attempt to avoid the man you eternally loath. Of course, the universe isn't always by your side as you accidentally reach a dead end, with no other choice but to dance with him.

romcom, regency era, enemies2lovers, just cute bickering warnings— not proofread, first time writing this kind of trope pls bear with me. 2.6k wc + reblogs are greatly appreciated!

author's note— I'm back again with another piece ( I'll disappear for a few months after this)! I wrote this exactly on Hee's bday but I only decided to post it now since i didn't really feel satisfied with this when i finished this a few days ago :/ i still don't so I may delete this when I'm in the mood to make changes ^_^ BUT HERE IT IS!! Happy belated birthday to my hubby wubby @Heeseung 😅❤️❤️

perm tags— @jangwonie @jungwonize @luhvlyuna @w3bqrl @ineedaherosavemeenow @leaderwon

"Would you be so kind and get that for me?"

Oh how annoying. You thought, gently tricking your finger up to block your ears and releasing in an instant, wanting the bothering itchiness to fade. His arms stretched beside you reaching to the the man holding a tray with glasses of wine.

Oh how you knew he did it intentionally.

Heeseung's boldness to give you an order was extraordinary, baffling even. You were not in a higher position than him, and he wasn't much higher than you, though he was just there, and heeseung didn't want to play the "he was just there" role in your life. He always feels the need to spite you at any given time, similar to a cricket making noises while you attempt to sleep.

Though much to his dismay, you certainly do show his own place as just a nobody in your existence; to which he never seems to catch the hint of your unintrestment.

Or he might do, only walking in and out of your life in terms of spitting utter nonsense to your peace.

Honestly, it did work. It made you fume and it certainly made you want to do more than just give out the usual glare and other threatening expressions to the other.

You turn around with utter confidence, meeting the man's eyes unbothered. Your eyes observed his structure, his unfortunately dashing attire, and his pretentious face.

As you check out the details of his sleeves, your eyes darted to Heeseung's exact shift of expression, smirking.

It was certainly expected, yet so mind flaming. You'd rather just explode right then and there than to keep up with whatever he wants to pull to you.

"You know, if a lady looks at someone from head to toe for too long it must mean that they yearn for that someone." He lets out a prideful scoff, eyes mockingly going through you as he sips from the wine glass.

Disbelief in what you heard, you halted your eyes from any further notice. Proceeding to roll your eyes at the man who had unknowingly tinted your cheeks red.

"Don't be silly, I was looking at your outfit. Actually baffling but not surprising for you to wear something so… Eye-vomiting." you spit. Twirling against his view and proceeding to waltz away from his standing figure, not setting a single glance at the man behind you. A fuming smoke sets up your chest at the realization of what you had just done to that awful of a man.

You explore more of the manor by yourself, enthralled by every piece of art plastered on the clean walls. You found an inner piece at the volume of the hallway, no noble bands performing and people crowding the room as they tap their feets and hearts out, it is truly a wonder to feel.

"Lady Y/N!"

Of course, every pinch of euphoria has their cut to its end, as one of your acquaintances calls you out.

"Oh, Lady… Lily? Was it?" You asked softly and loudly, as the woman clicked her heels towards you.

The girl smiles, "Oh yes! Though please, just call me Li."

"Alright, Lady Li."

…

For moments to what felt like hours, chit-chatting with Lady Li as you both walk around the manor corridors. The both of you had now reached your very destination which was the party itself that you so desperately want to be separated with.

You timidly smile at the girl beside you, eyes widened agitatedly at the crowd. "Uhm, Lady Li," The other nodded, her eyes also seemed to be searching through the sea of nobles.

"Why did we decide to return to this room?"

Lily simpers her smile as her eyes turn fixated on one figure, "There he is!— Thank you so much Lady Y/N for keeping me company through the manor." She gives you thanks, walking away with delight eventually linking arms with a man who Lady Li might have been searching for. great.

Another woman infested with men's validation, how unfortunate.

Your eyebrows furrow as you stare at the couple in disbelief, letting out a brief sigh at the thought of almost every woman here might be just like that.

"Feeling all bitter now, are we Lady Y/N?", you trembled at the sensation of his teasing breath tickling your ear.

"What on— oh... it's you again."

"The one and only." Heeseung lets out a ridiculous triumphant smile, the smile that makes you feel itchy in all aspects of your body, it was extremely bothersome reaching to the point you would rip your hair out to the unspeakable rage you feel for the male.

"Don't make that face now, a real lady doesn't do that, well— that is, if you are even a lady." He chuckled, always digging deeper into your little actions in an attempt to reach you to the edge. How delightful.

"Your words remind me so much of my younger brother's pitiful counters." You face the opposite once more, your heartbeat slowing down at each step you take far from Heeseung, hoping to have a similar instance from earlier to happen once more.

Unfortunately, the things one desires don't really happen twice. As you hear the footsteps of the man through the crowded noise, the only shattered expectation you wish did not.

"Oh so I remind you of your family now? How thoughtful." His smirk added to his audacious response that could be sensed at such a distance you didn't even know was possible without even taking another look.

"It means you're just as annoying as my brother, don't take it as a compliment."

"I presume older sisters still love their annoying brothers nevertheless, so that must mean you secretly feel that way for me too if I remind you so much of your annoying brother."

"Oh how great, you can go stay in your own personal pride zone Mr. Lee, though that zone, will tell you to cut it out very soon."

"I doubt that, I think I can sense what's true and not true."

"Being ever so ethical now, aren't you?"

"You know what they say… I am that of a gentleman."

"Well so ethical now anymore, 'cause, you see… you claim to be a gentleman which in fact is ridiculously wrong, no, you're not a gentleman."

"Okay lady, I figured that was a mouthful to sneer."

Your eyes widened, subconsciously sighing aggravatingly, utterly lost of the others' words. "Please don't follow me."

"I'm not following you."

"You are? Don't make me feel stupid."

"I don't think I'm doing that."

You continued to walk further and further, you don't know where, it could be just anywhere to be out of this man's grasp.

not even reaching an uncomfortable minute of making your way, Heeseung finally made it way up to you for god-know-what reason.

Only a few more threads left to untangle until you implode, besides showing this man what you're capable of doing, you weren't about to do anything in front of hundreds of people.

You swiftly turn to face the man following, "Look Mr. Lee, don't even attempt to come and step closer—" the hissy grin never ever fading from his look. Before you snap even further, you raise your head as the lights suddenly turn dim, the current music start to tone down as the band plays a new mellow romance.

The both of you faced your worries, silently questioning the sudden change of atmosphere.

"Now, it is time for the party where the gentleman… dances with the first lady they set their eyes on, Amuse-toi bien!"

…

..

.

His eyes were on you, and yours on him. Slowly developing the idea you most certainly would refuse to believe.

"No." You shook your head promptly with no hesitation.

"Y/N."

"No, don't even"

"Y/N—"

"No. Not ever. Never in my life. Never in a millennia. You can serve the mediocrity of mediocrity— I am not even paying attention to what I'm saying, but just so you know, I am not dancing with you."

You groaned continuously at his spews, this chit chatter going nowhere at all. Heeseung was also growing exhausted of your opposed responses. Hearing your never ending hatred for him is never known to him, although being in this position during an all rounded dance segment, he was not about to embarrass himself in front of such nobilities.

"Y/N just—" His hand abruptly slid up your waist sending your internal nerves through every stage of shockwaves.

"What are you—" Your words began to halt from his tightened grip, slowly putting power on pulling you closer… and closer… too close to say the least.

"Just this once, we don't want to leave a bad impression at a party we're just mere visitors at." His breath fanned your neck and sent shivers down your spine. Truly a feeling between his embrace that you have never felt before.

Too much of a guilt to even feel, considering this is the man you swore your whole life to loath yet here you are. No other way of escape out of this man's grasp, other than to spend a minute and more with him following the melodious rhythm serenading within the whole room.

"Fine. This doesn't change the fact that I want to scar my name on your face."

"How romantic." His lips curved sarcastically, eyes shifts into pure mockery as it lays on you. You couldn't say if you were teased by his softly menacing gaze or comforted by it. Eitherway, you couldn't register the right words.

"Besides," Heeseung continues, eyes darting away from yours, looking elsewhere within the ballroom, suddenly a light flashes your vision, snapping you back to your current position, right in front of Lee Heeseung.

"I don't even think we could get away from this anyway, we're literally in the middle of the dance floor." His head shifts in every direction to deem his assumption correct, which you mirrored.

It's true, the both of your are really in the middle of the ballroom.

You felt blockage on your throat, as if your vocal chords refused to spit words out of your mouth. The close proximity between you and Heeseung felt extremely new, you wanted to escape it so quickly yet, quite in a state of culture shock of his careful and kind demeanor as his every step to the rhythm of the music are seemingly careful not to make a mistake or you could say in other words, step on you.

The distance soothes, your hands still intact as the both of you walk in circles. His gaze locked onto you as if a man had seen the beauty of the moon for the very first time. He was allured, not only to the sight of your eyes but also your entire attire.

Who was he kidding? He was making fun of how you looked earlier, or was it you who taunted his? Even he couldn't remember. What is this contact causing him?

His eyes followed the direction of your eyes shifting all the way to your linked hands rising, following the rhythm and everyone else's. Only then Heeseung was able to return to his composure.

Being quiet with you didn't exactly make him feel like himself. It's indeed a peculiar case, his eyes fixated on your focused figure attempting for a thought, any words, any attacks, frankly quite anything.

"I feel conceived Lady Y/N," He started, your eyes now transferring to the man.

"Did you walk all the way here on purpose just to lure me in this dance?" He smirks, deeply hoping he did not look ridiculous in your eyes, which in fact, he did look ridiculous to you, though in basic sense, he always does.

You scoffed, "Don't be such a crude, I was walking away from you, or if you didn't understand that, I was escaping you. however, you followed me. If anything, you expected this dance to happen beforehand." You sneered at your words, feeling vastly proud of regaining the upper hand.

"Now now, shifting the blame onto me?" He jokingly asked, swaying forward and backward, then continuing to circle in unison.

"Well, I couldn't be wrong." Your raised your brows at the man, receiving a tuneful chuckle.

"You're ever so ethical now aren't you?"

you scoffed, "Touché."

After a few warm-hearted rhythms, the distance slowly basking in, his hand starts to tenderly slide from your hand up to your shoulder. Now facing your back at a dangerously close proximity. The way his fingertips barely made contact onto your skin yet it still tickled, sending you into unreasonable wonders.

Lee Heeseung? Sending you to unreasonable wonders?

"What if I tell you that I really expected this dance to happen and followed you to be able to have this dance with you?" he breathes out.

Your mind stood place, frozen. It couldn't function solely because of those words.

You knew this was his tactic of his obvious teasing yet... that had sent your heart into places you did not expect for it to reach. Your breathing abruptly stopping at every emphasis you place into his words.

It wasn't any different for the man, he was hellishly anxious.

The way his hand stood still on your shoulder, then slowly sliding it down to your hand the same thing he had done at the start. He felt crazy, he couldn't grasp the feeling whether he's disgusted at this contact or was it, satisfactory?

Heeseung's breath unawaringly hitched in unison to yours.

The high-rising tension the both of you are desperate to escape yet… would embrace it more long.

As Heeseung's hand reached your hand, the distance once more soothes, or did soothe for you? Did it to him?

One spin had the same closeness return, now you two are entirely facing each other.

How did this moment feel too slow? normally the dance routine did not walk this type of pace before, usually it happens quickly before the music finally comes to its end.

The silence echoed immediately through the other's ears, having the slight worry of gkving you discomfort.

Worried? Heeseung, really?

Heeseung lets himself battle his own internal conflicts as the outer silence continued. You were in a desperate measure of developing a genius idea for a comeback yet none came into mind. The unexplained whimsical threw you off, the fact this man had to send you in this type of frenzy was never in your lists of expectations.

Yet now, at this very moment, changed your very view on your surroundings.

All because of this very man you swore to loath ever since his eyes laid on you.

One last twirl to the maiden as the band's instruments faded into the void, completing the romantic waltz.

As everyone in the middle applauded their elegant and coordinated routine just now, both you and heeseung processed your breathledd tension just earlier.

Finally having all the words reached the right parts of your brain, finally having control of your conscious, your hatred to the man came back with it.

"Aww, you really do feel deep adoration for me, Lee Heeseung." you politely curtsied. contrasting to the tone of your voice, as you reply to the man's words from a few minutes back.

Heeseung lets out a chuckle, "You know what? Maybe I do have a thing for such abominations."

"Haha. Aren't you a clever guy." You gave him a wide infuriating smile, as you turn around walking away from his presence, now leaving the man at the middle of the dance floor.

It was a peculiar state for you. You swore you completely lie instense hatred for the man, yet now you're smiling at his mere words that usually drives you to banging your head on the wall, sometimes the urge to bang his head on the wall.

Yet what happened just earlier felt, extremely out of place, something you couldn't quite explain for the time being.

You were conflicted about being bothered by it.

How it bothered your feelings, bothered you deeply.

A memory that surely the both of you would engrave in later lifetime.

.

..

...

"Wow, she called me clever."

© seungiepup. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

[vzm]

i dont have rose tinted glasses. i have lily tinted glasses. it makes me think every woman is gay

[applebutter-and-cinnamon]

On the Open Water

Pairing: Joe Rantz x OC (Sadie)

Warnings: This is entirely based on the character from the movie and is not meant to disrespect the real person or their families/ experiences.

Description: Joe takes Sadie out for a boat ride. Yes, this is heavily influenced by the scene from the movie. All credit goes to the original writers of the script for the idea.

Boys in the Boat Masterlist

The first time she'd laid eyes on the tall figure that was Joe Rantz, her heart skipped a beat and her cheeks flushed red. Thankfully, he'd been distracted by his crew who were crowded around him as they walked out to the water. She'd heard about the junior boat, they were one of the hottest topics on campus at the moment - that the 8 of them had managed to beat out so many others was remarkably impressive.

Joe was tall, broad-shoulder and muscular in a way that she'd never seen. His blonde hair looked golden in the afternoon sunshine and he had a laugh that echoed easily in the air. It was plain as day that he was very, very handsome. She allowed herself a few blissful moments to watch as he walked away, but forced herself to turn back to her homework that was due the very next day.

The second time Sadie saw Joe Rantz was at a school-sanctioned party after he and his crew won their first race. She'd been doing her best to keep her gaze from where he was sitting, but considering the party was in their honor, it was hard not to let her attention wander back to him. Joe was seated between Roger Davis and George "Shorty" Hunt at a circular table just off to the side of the area that had been marked off for the dance floor.

Roger and Shorty were leaning close to Joe, shoving his shoulders a bit and whisper-yelling at him as he shook his head, a red flush tinting his cheeks.

Sadie was sitting comfortably at her own table surrounded by some of her roommates who had become some her best friends. Lily and Angela were laughing as they slowly drank the colorful cocktails in their chilled glasses - the only refuge from the increasingly hot room.

"What do you think, Sadie?" Lily asked her, drawing her attention away from the men of the hour. Lily had always been the more outgoing of their bunch, blonde and as beautiful as she was she drew men to her as easily as she breathed the air around them.

Angela was equally gorgeous with long hair that trailed down her back and dark as a raven's wing. Her lips were always painted bright red in contrast to her bright white teeth. She was incredibly smart, witty, and was always making them laugh with some sort of remark made just under her breath.

Sadie smiled, tucking a loose piece of curled hair behind her ear. "What do I think about what?"

Angela and Lily shared a glance, smirking at one another, "About how Joe Rantz has been glancing over at you every few minutes since he saw you sitting there."

"He has not," She protested. Her eyes widened as she took in their honest expressions and twisted, smug lips. "Really," she continued, "I doubt he knows I'm here. What is more likely is that he's looking at one of you."

Lily shook her head, "Looks like we're about to find out."

"What do you mean?" Sadie asked, turning her head to follow the direction of Lily's quirked brow. Joe Rantz had begun to stand from his seat and George was patting him heartily on his shoulder, while Roger looked straight in the direction of their table. He was leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands together and grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

Joe's eyes caught hers, eyeing the red that crept into her cheeks for a split second before she looked away from him. Casting worried looks at her friends, "He's not coming this way, is he?"

Sadie was not as confident as Lily or as quick-witted as Angela, but she was enthusiastically kind and had a heart twice as large as anyone else. She prided herself on seeing the best in others even though most times she couldn't quite see the best in herself.

Lily and Angela didn't answer, instead they made to stand giving her a supportive thumbs-up before hurrying away from the table. Angela winking at her and her giving her a large smile.

The sound of footsteps nearing the table drew her attention away from her giggling friends. Sadie felt distinctly aware of every hair out of place on her head and the dampness at the small of her back from the heat of the room.

"Hello," Joe's baritone sounded next to her and Sadie looked up into startlingly, clear blue eyes in answer. His blonde hair was combed neatly atop his head and his mouth was softened into a small, hesitant smile. "My name's Joe - Joe Rantz."

She offered him her hand in greeting and he extended his much larger hand to accept it. "It's nice to meet you," she smiled, proud of how she held her voice steady in front of the man she'd been admiring from afar.

Sadie offered him her own name, which he repeated softly, almost to himself. He seemed to be testing the way it tasted on his lips and she couldn't deny the butterflies that took flight in her stomach at hearing him swirl her name around inside of his mouth.

She gestured towards one of the empty seats in an offer for him to sit down. Joe hesitated, eyes downcast before flicking back up to hers, "I was actually wondering if, maybe, you might want to dance with me?"

Sadie's smiled encouragingly, "I'd love to."

Accepting his outstretched hand, she let him lead her to the dance floor. Where he pulled her close and she wrapped her arms around him, feeling the steadiness of his body against her own nervous one. Her heart was beating so hard that she could feel it in her fingertips and she glanced up at his face to determine if he could hear it.

Instead, she caught a look that was a little bashful and incredulous as he pulled her slightly closer than one might a friend. She stepped forward to make it easier for him, delighting in the red that grew at the tips of his ears.

The third time she saw Joe Rantz was beneath her window.

"What are you doing?" She asked, laughing as she pushed the window open.

He was beautiful in the moonlight, eyes wide in excitement and a broad grin taking over his face. "Do you want to go on a boat ride?" He looked up at her expectantly, no trace of any expectation that she would say no.

"Right now?" Sadie asked, voice full of laughter.

He shrugged, "Sure, why not."

She laughed, "I'll be right down." She hurried into her shoes, flinging her door open and ignoring the questions from Lily and Angela. She half-ran and half-stumbled her way down two flights of stairs to the door where Joe waited for her.

"Hi," she greeted, breathless as she pushed the door open.

Joe's grin was brighter than she'd ever seen. He reached for her and she stepped easily into his reach, one of his hands trailing down her arm to her hand which he took in his own. "Follow me," he said, leading her forward.

He must've already been to the University's shell house, because he led her to the dock where he had a small row boat tied securely. He offered her his arm and she climbed into the boat with unsteady legs.

Joe climbed in after her, the very picture of grace and set them off. The water was calm around them and as Joe rowed them away from shore, the symphony of the open water at night performed for them. Swirling water and soft breezes smelling of fresh spring flowers, carrying with it the smell of Joe's cologne.

She turned her head towards him and found his blue eyes already staring at her.

"You're going to row us into something if you don't pay attention to where we're going," she teased, quirking an eyebrow at him playfully.

Joe smirked, his expression the picture of confidence. "Of the two of us, remind me who has more experience out on the water," his voice drew her attention down to his lips, which morphed into something of a smug grin as he caught her slip.

Sadie glanced up quickly. "Obviously, it's me," she continued, tossing her hair over her shoulder pretending to have all of the confidence in the world.

Joe laughed softly next to her and she couldn't help the giggle that escaped her.

He stopped rowing, letting the current take hold once they were in the middle of the water and the boat began to drift slowly as it did.

"Do you like rowing?" Sadie asked, studying his expression. It was mostly hidden from her but as he tilted his head in contemplation the light from the moon illuminated him in a silver glow.

"I'm getting a job out of it," he shrugged. His voice took on a nonchalant tone but his eyes gave away his enjoyment for the sport.

Sadie nudged him with her shoulder, "You seem to be pretty good at it."

"Do I?" Joe smiled, blue eyes twinkling.

Sadie nodded, "You boys are going to become famous with the skill you have in your boat. Just wait, you'll see that I'm right and you'll forget all about me."

She turned her face away from him, not wanting to show him the expression that was likely painting her face.

Joe's calloused hand slid a long her cheek, gently guiding her gaze back to him. "I don't think I could forget you if I tried," he whispered, his voice so low she was sure she could only hear him because he was so close.

Her gaze dropped down to his soft lips again before flicking back up to his eyes. Joe didn't wait a moment and leaned forward, gently pressing their mouths together.

His lips were warm and so very soft against her own. He tasted of salt and something distinctly Joe that she ached for more of. She reached her own hand up, gliding her hand over his shoulder to the back of his neck and into his hair, pulling him closer.

He groaned softly into her mouth and twisted his head, deepening their kiss. Using the hand that wasn't caressing her face, he gripped onto her waist, just holding her softly against him.

She cursed herself for pulling away first but her lungs were begging her for oxygen. They stayed close, resting their foreheads against one another. Joe's breath kissed the apples of her cheek as he exhaled.

"We should probably get back to the dorms before someone notices I'm gone," she whispered.

"I'll row us back," Joe hummed in agreement, though his hands remained where they were. "But, one more kiss couldn't hurt."

His eyes were dark and heavy-lidded as he looked at her, waiting for her permission.

Sadie slid her hand back into his soft, blonde hair and if they shared a few more kisses than their only witnesses were the full moon above them and the open water that surrounded them.

A/N: Would anyone be interested in reading any more about Sadie and Joe?

[startanewdream]

#29 - Silence for @jilymicrofics

The world is quiet here.

Pink clouds tint the sky, just above the canopy of the dark green pines. A chilling breeze comes, arises goosebumps on her skin, but Lily does not move.

Godric's Hollow is quiet on Autumn afternoons. The delighted summer tourists are gone, no more sounds of a blend of idioms through the streets and markets; they will be back only by Halloween, and then later, for Christmas. It's an old village and it feels so in between seasons, when everything seems to stand still for a moment. Waiting.

A small sigh breaks the silence, but it's just Harry; he turns in his sleep, and she adjusts him in her arms so he won't wake up. He is dreaming, and she vows to let him sleep peacefully as long as she can; even after, she hopes.

A few steps down the lane, she spots James coming back from this quick trip to the forests with a few tree branches. He vowed to make Harry a playground, and he's starting with a swing; no magic, he promised. On a better time, Lily would say it's for the challenge; nowadays she thinks it's to keep him busy, give him something to do while they wait.

James does not enjoy quiet days; it does not suit him. Her husband was made for loud laughter, applause, friends gathered around the table, with the sound of glasses toasting and happy conversation. He hates the silence and their solitude; but James doesn't say anything, he never complains.

"I love you," she whispers to him when he is near; it's the first sound that breaks the stillness of the place in hours.

His face softens; he lets down the branches—quietly, slowly, as to not disturb Harry—and then he holds her face, watching her with adoration and fondness for a moment before James dives in and brushes his mouth against hers.

A silent kiss. It burns all the same; longing and love battle inside her, and Lily wants to cling desperately to him and never let go. But James breaks away; his thumb caresses her cheeks for a moment, and his gaze says all she needs to hear before he departs, letting her enjoy her moment.

I love you too.

[lilmashae]

☙ no promises | vol. 1 | s.jy

♥ summary ♥ back. ♥ next. ♥ home. ♥

author's note | don't hate me ! i know i said i'd upload the first part last night but i had priorities (the birthday hair 🤓 ). anyways i love you all lots , and depending on how this does there will be a part two ! there's no smut this time , is it goes on there will be :)

the steady chugging of the train hummed in your ears, and the window felt cold against your temple. on the other side of the glass lay your hometown, its roads beautifully blanketed in flower petals, dressed for the spring.

the humming ceased as the train pulled into the station. crowds of people gathered in front of the sleek double doors, and you stood up. the warm spring sun kissed your forehead as you stepped out onto the platform. your eyes wearily searched through the ocean of people, looking for your best friend.

you were nervous to return home. it took weeks for lily to convince you—four weeks exactly, a month. you didn’t have any family living in the small town; you didn’t have any reason to show your face. your older sister had moved across the country, craving freedom from your strict parents, apparently from you too—her burdensome younger sister. so, no family and an aching guilt—no reason to come home. however, the girl had still managed to reel you in.

"you can stay with me and jaeyun," she said. and momentarily, you agreed because you didn’t have the funds to rent out a room for two weeks. however, it wasn’t until after your agreement that it clicked.

shoving past strangers, her words rang in your ears. her and jaeyun—little jaeyun. who you assumed wasn’t so little anymore. he probably wouldn’t run into your arms pleading to stay up late with you and his older sister. you’ve been gone for three years... of course, he’s not a baby anymore—he’s not the same lovesick teenager, is he? the same jaeyun who cried watching your train leave the station, or the same jaeyun who made you promise to never forget him—which how could you? obviously, he’s not little anymore—your little jaeyun could never hate you—no matter what you lied about.

"y/n!" a voice rang out. it cut through the bustling clamor of the station—families reuniting and friends excitedly chattering. suddenly, all of your guilt melted away underneath a new feeling—possibly the relief of finding lily through the crowds that sunk your apprehensiveness. you couldn’t help but grin because lily’s bright smile had your lips curving up into a smile too. she made her way over to you before enveloping you in a warm embrace.

“i haven’t seen you in forever!” she let out an exaggerated sigh. “you saw me last week!” you giggled, squeezing her in your arms. lily sim—your best friend—saw you seven days ago when she was helping you pack your suitcase for your return home. unlike you, she had decided to stay within the warm community of your small town—where everyone knew everyone and everything. “whatever! are you ready to go?” she smiled, reaching for your luggage. you nodded as a feeling of nostalgia washed over you; you’d finally be home.

the car ride wasn’t long. one of lily’s playlists erupted in the car’s speakers as you two caught up. lily’s place wasn’t far from the station; the familiar scenery of your hometown welcomed you with open arms. the small businesses and parks seemed unchanged. your tree still stood tall in the town’s field—which made you crack a cheeky grin. the familiarity somewhat eased your thoughts—specifically those of jaeyun who stood tall in the driveway of lily’s parent’s house. he definitely wasn’t little—far from it especially clad in his soaked white shirt that lazily clung to his stomach. “jaeyun!” lily shouted from out of the window piercing through your focus. “are you done washing dad’s car or what?” she smiled opening her door and getting out of the car. “yeah yeah… i’m almost done. what’s up?” you watched the siblings bicker through the tinted windows of your best friend's car. that anxiety in your stomach began to bubble up once more. “get the bags out of my trunk! pretty please jaeyun!” she pleaded stomping back in the direction of the vehicle before opening your door. “what are you doing? stop being weird—get out and tell my brother hi.”

you bit your lip stepping out of the car, and jake’s eyes lit up watching your figure emerge before him. looking at lily, you awkwardly smiled before walking in his direction. “hey… jaeyun,” you waved softly, biting the inside of your cheek. he swallowed dryly—clearing his throat, the last thing you expected was his chest to meet your own—hands snaking around your back, pulling you into a particularly damp hug. “jaeyun!” lily shouted from behind you. “you’re getting her wet! let go!” you could feel him slowly releasing you, dropping his arms at his side. “you’re back,” he smiled widely. “i—” before he could finish, lily was standing between you two. “bags, jaeyun!” he scoffed. “right, right… your bags.” he turned to you once more, his eyes full of wonder and admiration.

as if he had perfect timing, the sim siblings' father came through the front door. “jake, you done with the car or what?” it seemed everyone was worried about that car. you went unnoticed, quietly standing in front of the garage as lily continued to shout at jaeyun. he’s strong, you think, watching as he carries all of your bags up the front steps in one trip. “not yet, dad… lily’s making me do chores,” he rolled his eyes. “hey!” the older girl shouts back at him, and he sticks his tongue out. “dad.” lily smiles, dragging you behind her. “guess who’s here… your favorite… y/n!” the girl glides on the flats of her feet, revealing you behind her. “hi, mr. sim!” you brightly smile and wave at him. much like his son, mr. sim is incredibly enthusiastic, throwing his arms around you. “y/n! where’ve you been? it’s been how long… three years? you haven’t changed one bit, you know—”

“oh, leave her alone!” again, the sim family has ironically perfect timing. mrs. sim follows jake out of the house. “she’s changed lots! she’s taller, her hips are a little wider…” lily’s parents always acted like your own—just much more loving and carefree. “i got your bags up in lily’s room,” jake proudly smirked, staring you up and down, which lily clearly saw. “gross! you still have a crush on her or something?” she nudged her brother.

the savory scent of barbeque wafted through the air. the sim family's backyard was a cozy haven, adorned with string lights twinkling overhead and a rustic wooden table adorned with colorful tablecloths.

as you settled into the comfortable patio chairs, mr. sim skillfully tended to the grill, expertly flipping burgers and basting chicken with his secret marinade. the rhythmic sizzle of the grill mingled with the sounds of laughter and chatter, creating a comforting symphony of home.

lily's parents effortlessly juggled conversations, seamlessly blending familial anecdotes with playful teasing. mrs. sim, with her warm smile and nurturing demeanor, circulated among the guests, ensuring everyone had their plates filled with mouthwatering dishes.

meanwhile, jake, with his boyish charm and mischievous grin, manned the cooler, offering everyone ice-cold beverages and sharing lighthearted jokes. despite his playful antics, there was an undeniable warmth in his eyes whenever he glanced your way, a silent reassurance that eased the lingering hesitance in your heart.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the backyard, the sim family gathered around the table, sharing stories and passing around plates piled high with grilled delicacies. the air was filled with laughter and contentment, a testament to the bond shared between family and friends.

but amidst the warm embrace, you were still hesitant to face—jake. you had grown up together, sharing countless memories and adventures, but there was one memory in particular that you couldn't shake — your tree.

during a lazy summer afternoon beneath the shade of a towering oak tree, you had leaned in closer to jake’s skin. your heart was heart pounding in your chest as you pressed your lips against his, stealing his first kiss with a promise to come back whenever you could to see him.

“y/n! hey, y/n!”

your eyes shot open at the familiar voice. “jake!” you waved from under the tree with a book shut on your lap. you must’ve dozed off, reading or thinking. either way, it didn’t matter because jake was there. he had ridden up on his bike. if you had to guess, he’d just gotten out of school. after all, he was still adorned in his uniform with his hair neatly thrown on his head.

“what’s up?” as he ran up, you patted the earth next to you. “nothing… i just wanted to come to see you.” he sat down beside you, his head on your shoulder. “you haven’t been over in days — are you and lily still fighting?” a small giggle escaped your throat as you nudged his side. you two were fighting, but you were sure she’d long gotten over it. if anything, you were hiding from him. “no, jake… i’ve been busy. you know i leave soon — for college?” and hearing that, his smile quickly faded. anyone would notice the frown plastered on his face as it was unfamiliar to him. the silence was swallowing you whole. you looked down to see him playing with his fingers — his glasses close to falling. “hey, jake, are you okay..?” if you were being honest, you had no idea how to comfort him. you knew that he wasn’t okay. seeing him pout and whine made your stomach twist and tie itself into a tight knot.

“y/n… please don’t go.” his tone was serious, almost cold — far from playful, cute jaeyun. “jaeyun, i have to.” you could see tears welling up in his eyes. “jake, you know—” he knew you knew that he liked you — loved you. even if you didn’t, the speed at which his smile dropped entailed something was wrong. “just do this for me. stay, y/n.” salty tears began streaming down his cheeks. “stop it, it’s fine… you know i’ll be back.” you hate watching people cry: it’s the worst. but watching jake cry, that made you sick. “hey,” grabbing his hands, you looked into his eyes. “i’ll never really leave, so don’t cry. seriously, quit it, or else i’ll—” you’re interrupted by jake’s lips colliding into your own — they’re pillowy but slightly chapped from his constant nipping. it’s a bad habit — a nervous one that only got worse as you were closer to leaving.

but after the initial shock, you close your eyes — leaning into his lips. your lips mold together in a sweet kiss — passionate yet chaste. slightly smiling into his mouth, you placed your free hand against his cheek and wiped his tears. “jake…” he squeezed your hands tighter than before, “please stay.” it broke your heart to watch him cry.

but as the years passed and life got in the way, you broke her promise, leaving behind a heartbroken boy and a shattered dream.

now, as you stood in the doorway of lily's house, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt wash over your body. you had avoided jake at all costs, unable to face the consequences of your actions. but deep down, you knew that she still harbored feelings towards him, feelings that you had long tried to bury beneath the weight of your guilt.

guidelines and disclaimers | not too lengthy , just because i want to see how this does ! if you guys like it i'l continue updating... but i don't really have any personal desire for this except maybe a smutty drabble 🤡

[swan-of-sunrise]

The Angel of Hell's Kitchen

Summary: The office assistant for Nelson, Murdock & Page worries when her secret passion is discovered by her coworkers, but the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen shows her how much she’s loved for who she is.

Pairing: Matt Murdock X Reader, Franklin ‘Foggy’ Nelson X Marci Stahl

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I’m excited to share this one-shot with you because it’s my first time writing for Matt Murdock! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

The Angel of Hell’s Kitchen (Fanfiction Masterlist)

“Past due…past due…ah, a first notice!” Foggy glanced up from the stack of letters in his hands and grinned. “It’s always nice to have some variety, isn’t it?”

“Things’ll start looking up for us soon, Foggy,” (Y/N) promised, her happy mood unaffected by her friend and employer’s typical over-worrying; as the one and only office assistant of Nelson, Murdock & Page, she was allowed to indulge in her personal love of organizing and that morning, she was hard at work manually in-putting their next three weeks of appointments, consultations and court dates into their online calendar. “‘Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow. They toil not, neither do they spin-’”

“‘And I say unto you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.’” (Y/N) looked up in surprise as Matt finished quoting the Bible verse, his brows rising in surprise over the rims of his red-tinted glasses. “Matthew 6:28. I never knew you were Catholic, Miss (Y/L/N).”

She chuckled. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Counselor Murdock, but I’m just a simple theatre nerd. It’s a verse used in the play Lilies of the Field, based off that 1960’s film starring Sidney Poitier. I played one of the nuns back when I was a sophomore in college; the habit was pretty uncomfortable to wear and my German accent was atrocious, but it was still a fun experience.”

“A fellow thespian!” Foggy exclaimed and Matt grinned widely. “I’m a theatre camp alumnus myself, and my performance in Pirates of Penzance is the stuff of legend. But this stays between us, okay? I don’t need it getting around Hell’s Kitchen that Counselor Nelson’s a reformed song and dance man.”

“Well, your secret’s safe with us, Jazz Hands.” Matt removed his fingers from his refreshable braille display and did a decent impression of the dance move, making (Y/N) burst into giggles and his own smirk to widen at the sound. “Is performing onstage something you only did in college?”

“Yeah, I mostly did it during school but I still dabble in it from time to time; a lot of people I went to college with are up-and-coming directors and when they stage productions for potential investors or theatre owners, they give me a call to see if I’ll do them a favor and perform. They get a reliable cast member that knows how to follow stage directions, and I occasionally get to do something that I really enjoy.”

The lawyer shrugged a shoulder. “Sounds like a win-win to me.” It didn’t escape her notice that Matt’s attention was entirely focused on her while she talked and judging by the look on his face, he was truly interested in what she had to say; her face warmed and for a brief moment, she thought that he caught her involuntary reaction before inwardly rolling her eyes at her paranoia. “Have you performed in any shows recently?”

(Y/N) nodded and across the long wooden table, Foggy helpfully called out, “She just nodded, buddy.”

“O-Oh, my God, Matt, I’m so sorry, I just-” She stopped herself when she spotted Matt’s amused grin. “You really get a kick out of people making complete asses of themselves around you, don’t you, Counselor Murdock?”

“I think I’ll plead the fifth on that one, Miss (Y/L/N).” They both chuckled and (Y/N)’s heartbeat quickened when he reached over to rest his hand on hers. “Seriously, though, no harm done.”

Smiling to herself, she twisted her hand around to give his a gentle squeeze, distracted for a moment by his handsome features before recalling what they’d been discussing. “I’m, um, I’m actually in rehearsals for a show right now. One of my old classmates is staging a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at an old theatre on West 42nd, set to her own original songs inspired by 90’s Punk-Pop; it’s a pretty different take on the classic play, that’s for sure, but it’s been a really fun time so far.”

“I’m glad that you’ve been enjoying yourself.” Matt withdrew his hand from hers to gesture in Foggy’s vague direction. “You’ll have to tell us when it opens so we can come and support you and your friend.”

(Y/N)’s heart dropped in her chest. “Oh, it’s not really that big of a deal-”

“Of course it is! Our wickedly-talented office assistant is starring in a production that might end up on Broadway someday,” Foggy insisted with a grin. “If we see it now, we’ll actually be able to afford the tickets without selling off a kidney first!”

“As usual, Foggy makes an excellent point.” A smiling Matt chimed in. “Personally, I look forward to hearing you sing; you have such a pleasant speaking voice, so I’m sure that you’re a naturally-gifted singer as well.”

Despite her discomfort, (Y/N) felt herself flush at the lawyer’s sweet compliment but she was careful not to let him distract her. “Really, guys, it’s nothing serious; it’s only three performances, the theatre’s got a bad draft and there may or may not be rats living in the walls. Besides, I’m the one who’s in charge of your calendar and the three of you are practically booked up to your eyeballs next month.” She abruptly stood and crossed the room to grab her coat and scarf, a forced smile on her face as she quickly donned the garments. “I’ve gotta go mail some letters and pick up the Bulletin, so I'll see you guys later!”

She hurried out of the back room of Nelson’s Meats before either of them could reply and didn’t release the breath she’d purposefully been holding until she made it outside the shop. It wasn’t that she didn’t want her friends and colleagues to know about her passion for theatre, but she preferred to avoid their inevitable disinterest and the unavoidable heartbreak she’d suffer as a result. Not that I’m not already used to this particular brand of heartbreak, she thought with a small sniffle, blinking away the prickle of tears in her eyes before starting down the bustling sidewalk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door closed behind (Y/N) and across the table, Matt heard Foggy sigh and toss the mail he’d been sorting through onto the tabletop. “She was lying just now, wasn’t she?”

Matt bit his lip and nodded. “Yeah, she was. She didn’t look embarrassed, did she?”

“No, no, but she almost looked panicked at the thought of us going to see her perform.” The chair legs slid across the wood floor as Foggy stood up and began to pace beside the table. “And towards the end there, right when she was putting on her coat and scarf, it looked like she was about to-”

“Cry,” Matt finished for his best friend, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, I heard her sniffle and smelled the tears right when she stepped outside the shop.”

“Show-off. It’s like she wants us to see her perform but at the same time, she doesn’t. Weird, huh?”

While they both pondered the strange behavior of their friend and office assistant, Matt couldn’t help but think back to her enchanting laughter and the way her heartbeat elevated when he rested his hand on hers; her skin was soft beneath his fingertips and for one blissful moment, he could imagine moving his hand to cup her cheek and leaning forward to capture her lips in a slow and passionate kiss. His crush on their firm’s sweet office assistant had only grown in the six months she’d been with them, but he held himself back from fully indulging in them out of fear of overstepping his boundaries; he was technically one of her bosses and after the near-disastrous relationship breakdown between him and Karen, he was more than a little wary of entering into yet another office romance. But thanks to his heightened senses, he was starting to suspect that she had some feelings of her own that she was doing her best to bury for the sake of their workplace environment.

Matt had slipped his earbud back in and resumed going over court documents on his braille display when their law firm’s third partner walked into the backroom of Nelson’s Meats, balancing a to-go beverage tray in one hand and a stack of manila envelopes in the crook of her arm. “I motion that Foggy handles the drink orders from here on out.”

Matt chuckled. “I second the motion.”

“Hey, we all voted on a rotational schedule fair and square,” Foggy defended as he stood and took the drinks from Karen’s hands. “It’s not my fault that drink orders coincided with your case researching, Miss Page.”

“And yet, it somehow still feels like it is, Counselor Nelson.” Karen set her armful of full envelopes onto one of the empty chairs and practically collapsed onto another, sighing in relief when she slipped off her high-heels and took a long drink of her coffee. “Did either of you boys happen to upset (Y/N) today? I bumped into her on the way here and she looked a little bummed out, but I couldn’t figure out why.”

“We noticed that, too. One minute we were talking and having a good time, and the next she was practically sprinting to get out of here. She was telling us about the show she was set to star in for an old friend, but she started to panic when we mentioned coming to see her perform,” Matt explained, pausing his text-to-speech software and angling his head to the side as an idea came to mind. “Karen, could you do me a favor? Can you do a little digging and find out which theatre on West 42nd is putting on a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream next month?”

“There’s no need; I already know which theatre you’re talking about. It’s Pearl Theatre, 555 West 42nd Street, and the show’s scheduled to run from April 8th to the 11th.” Foggy whistled low and Matt’s brow shot up in surprise. “There’s a flyer posted at the coffee shop, and I always take a look at the bulletin while I wait for our order.”

Matt could sense Foggy holding in his laughter as he replied, “See, isn’t it a good thing you’re the one who goes and gets the coffee the most?” Ignoring the middle finger that their partner threw up at him, Foggy stretched his arm out and nudged Matt’s hand with the edge of one of his case files. “I can tell that something’s going on inside that ridiculously good-looking head of yours, so spill.”

“Well, I was thinking it’s about time that Nelson, Murdock & Page take their first corporate outing in honor of their hard-working office assistant,” He replied with a growing smile. “Who’s in?”

He could hear Karen tap her coffee against his in a subtle toast before taking a sip. “Why the hell not? I’ll work on getting us tickets when they go on sale.”

“I’ll get Marci to help me pick out a nice congratulatory bottle of wine-”

“And I’ll be in charge of getting her a bouquet of flowers.” Matt leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “And remember, not a word of this to (Y/N), okay?” His business partners assured him that they’d keep quiet and as the three of them began planning their surprise, he hoped that his suspicions about the root of their lovely office assistant’s conflicted feelings would be forgotten the moment she spotted them in the audience.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Curtains up in five, people!”

“Thank you, five!”

The green room bustled with anxious energy as performers frantically finished getting ready and nervous techies checked that each person’s mic was properly secured. (Y/N) watched the chaos unfolding from her stool in the corner, sipping her lemon and honey tea and smiling to herself as she was reminded of her first few years of performing; she’d always been an anxious mess on an opening night but now that she was older, she was able to do a much better job of hiding it beneath a façade of confidence.

“Like chickens with their heads cut off, huh?”

(Y/N) chuckled as Marcus, the man acting opposite of her Titania as the Fairy King Oberyn, leaned a shoulder on the wall next to her. “I heard that some of their acting professors are in the audience and they can be quite the ball-busters when it comes to adapting Shakespeare.”

“Poor kids. Must be why I just caught one Googling a Wiccan good-luck spell in the bathroom, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was a Power of Three spell from Charmed.” After another reminder of the impending start of the show, Marcus took a moment to adjust his suspender while she tossed out her to-go cup and slipped her high heels on. “I’m surprised you’re not as jittery as the rest of our cast tonight, seeing as your friends are in the audience.”

Her head instantly shot up and her eyes widened in shock. “What?”

“Yeah, there’s four of ‘em; two men and two women, and one of the men is blind. They were the first ones seated when the house opened, and one of the women’s been describing the stage and sets to the blind guy. The front-of-house manager heard ‘em mention your name while she helped seat them.”

Marcus was soon called away for a last-minute mic-pack battery check and (Y/N) was left speechless by his surprising news; how the hell did they even find out about all this, she asked herself with a mixture of awe and wariness, a little unsure of how to handle the unexpected turn of events. A spur-of-the-moment decision led her to climbing the steep staircase up to the theatre’s proscenium lighting crawlspace, and she peered through the wire-covered opening at the audience down below. Sure enough, Matt, Karen, Foggy and his fiancée Marci were seated in the center row; the happy couple were excitedly perusing the show’s program together while Karen talked to Matt, and (Y/N)’s heart thudded in her chest when she spotted the beautiful bouquet of wildflowers resting on his lap. As she watched, Matt angled his head upwards and his lips curved into a smile, the action nearly making her wonder if he somehow knew that she was there, but she quickly brushed the impossible thought away.

Although a part of (Y/N) still couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing, tears began to prickle in her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had come to see her perform or shown any interest whatsoever in her passion for theatre and as she carefully made her way back down the steep staircase, she vowed that she’d give her friends and her secret crush the performance of a lifetime.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, ‘kay, one last toast before we head home so I can hurl all this up before passing out!” The group winced and groaned in disgust at Foggy’s bluntness but raised their bottles and glasses as he addressed (Y/N). “Thanks to you, I was able to witness the epically-unholy union of Shakespeare and 90’s Punk-Pop, and now my life is complete.” Marci loudly cleared her throat and they all snickered as Foggy quickly corrected himself for his amused fiancée’s sake. “Almost, it’s almost complete. Anyways, you were fantastic and while I don’t always understand theatre in my older age, I sure as hell respect the people who do. To (Y/N), our amazing office assistant and an even cooler thespian!”

“To (Y/N)!” They loudly tapped and clinked their drinks against one another before downing the last of their alcohol. After the show, they’d all gone to meet (Y/N) at the stage door and after gifting her a bouquet of flowers and a nice bottle of wine, they invited her to join them at Josie’s for a nightcap; one drink turned into many, many more, with their group even clearing out the celebratory bottle of wine, and they’d only decided to call it a night when (Y/N) reminded them that she had another night’s performance and a Sunday matinee to rest up for.

Matt could sense the blood rushing to (Y/N)’s cheeks and grinned when she ducked her head in embarrassment. “All I can say is thank you. I’ve never had…well, I’m not used to performing for friends, so I really can’t thank you guys enough for finding a way to be there tonight.” Matt detected the slight catch in her voice before the others applauded her, and a part of him knew that there was something more significant behind it than gratitude, but he decided that he’d wait until they were alone to ask her about it.

When their drinks were finally gone and even Josie’s patience with them was starting to wear thin, they all stumbled out of the bar and headed home; Karen decided to share a cab with Foggy and Marci while Matt offered to walk (Y/N) home. He opted to hold the hand she generously offered him instead of unfolding his white cane, smiling to himself as they swung their joined hands back and forth while they slowly walked down the deserted sidewalks and desperately trying to hide the smitten blush that threatened to appear on his inebriated face.

“While you were in the bathroom, Karen mentioned that you were the one in charge of getting the flowers.”

“Yep,” Matt replied, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word and chuckling at her giggle. “Picked ‘em out all by myself; the florist tried talking me into buying roses, but these ones smelled much nicer to me.”

(Y/N) brought the bouquet up to her nose and inhaled their scent. “You made a good call, Counselor Murdock. I’ve always preferred the scent of flowers over the look of ‘em, and I’ve always thought that roses are far too cliché.”

“Well, I’m glad that you approve of my decision, Miss (Y/L/N).” He could sense the blood rushing to her face and hear the stutter of her heartbeat, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to stop walking and lean in for a kiss. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“You just did, but I suppose I’ll be okay with another one.”

Shaking his head at her silly answer, Matt bumped his shoulder against hers and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Why were you so dead-set against us seeing you perform? You’re an amazing actor and an even better singer, so I don’t really get why you wouldn’t want any of us coming to see you do something you so obviously love.”

“Oh. Well, um…” (Y/N) swallowed thickly while Matt patiently waited for her to answer. “I’ve performed almost all my life, and certainly for as long as I can remember. But the older I got, the less my friends and family seemed interested in supporting my hobby; coming to see me perform was more of a chore to them than an honor. The first time I got to play a lead in high school, I saw my dad asleep in his seat and my friends texting in the back of the auditorium. My junior year boyfriend missed my first Shakespearian monologue because he snuck out to go watch our school’s basketball game. Everyone I invited to my last high school musical made excuses for why they couldn’t come to any of the performances, and I missed our entire cast party because I was crying my eyes out in a Denny’s bathroom. Performing all throughout college was the highlight of my life, but I didn’t have anyone to share it with because by that point, I knew that asking anyone to come would only lead to unnecessary heartache. So when I saw you guys sitting smack-dab in the middle of the audience, I-I just…I couldn’t believe that you not only remembered a conversation from over a month ago, but you all took time out of your busy schedules just to come tonight.” Her hand tightened around his and her voice waivered as she added, “No one’s ever been that considerate to me.”

Matt’s heart nearly shattered at the hurt he could detect in her words and without a second thought, he stopped walking and let go of her hand to gently cradle her face between his own. “(Y/N), you deserve to have people around you who care about your interests. They’re a reflection of who you are, after all. All those people – your friends, your family, even that asshole boyfriend – they should be kicking themselves in the asses right now; they let an angel slip right through their fingers because they were too self-absorbed to appreciate her the way she deserved to be appreciated.”

“Do you…? You really mean that, don’t you?”

With a small smile, Matt reached down for her free hand and held it flat against his chest, directly over his heart. “I’m a good Catholic boy, remember? When we call people angels, we tend to mean it.” She exhaled a quiet laugh, and his thumb caressed the warm apple of her cheek as he sensed she had something she wanted to say. “What is it, angel?”

(Y/N)’s heart hammered away in her chest at his use of the pet name and after a long pause, she softly asked, “Do good Catholic boys generally give angels a celebratory kiss at the end of one of the happiest nights of their life?”

Matt nervously wet his lips in anticipation. “Only when angels ask them nicely.”

“Please, Matt…will you kiss me?”

He slowly leaned in – taking a moment to appreciate the sound of her quickening heartbeat, the feel of her warmth beneath his palm and the floral scent that engulfed his senses – and with gentle restraint, he finally brushed his lips against hers in the sweetest of kisses. It started out soft and undemanding, with the both of them attempting to respect the other’s boundaries, but it quickly devolved into a heated embrace when (Y/N)’s fingers curled around his tie and tugged him closer. He let out a deep groan at the sensation and she smiled against his lips as he wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her against him.

While the Devil and the Angel of Hell’s Kitchen kissed on a deserted sidewalk in the middle of the city they both cherished, a familiar Shakespearian line would come to mind…

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: A lot of this was based on my own personal experience growing up as a theatre kid and if anyone out there can relate to this, just know that your people are out there and when you find ‘em, I promise that they’ll love you for exactly who you are 💖 Thank you all so much for reading and commenting, and I hope you enjoyed my first attempt at writing Matt Murdock!

Fanfiction Masterlist

Marvel Taglist: @brooke0297

All Works: @crowleysqueenofhell @momc95 @groovy-lady​

[helyiios]

whiskey neat.

nicholas angel/danny butterman

"I can't," Nicholas whispers, swallowing thickly as Danny's face seemed to crumble, hand holding his pint of lager a little tighter. "I just can't."

"Can't...what ?" his friend asks, clueless, "get another beer ? Because it's really fine, I were headin' home, actually, and—“

"No."

A pause.

"What's it, then, Nick ? You're worrying me."

"I have to go."

Nicholas Angel stands up from his chair, eyes glued to the table, jaw tense. He can't bring himself to look at his friend.

He's a monster.

"Night," he offers still, turning around and almost running out of the pub, face red with shame.

Danny stays there, completely lost, mouth a little agape as he tries to understand exactly what the fuck had happened.

His friend had been out of it for the entire day, not really paying attention to the road traffic during patrol, not eating lunch, not even listening to Danny's jokes (it had hurt a little bit when he hadn't laughed at any of his jokes,) almost walking into a streetlamp, and well....whatever the hell that was, just now.

Danny's a proper policeman officer, though, so he's getting to the bottom of this, that was for sure.

He downs the last of his beer in one go, slamming it against the wooden table and making its way outside, the chill air of the beginning of April somehow sobering him up a little. The practical thing was that Nicholas' cottage wasn't too far from the centre, which meant that it took him less than eight minutes to actually reach it, narrowing his eyes to check if any of the lights were on. It looked like the living room's were.

The front door's locked, because of course it, this is Nicholas we're talking about. He knocks, waiting patiently. Footsteps make their ways towards him—towards the door, and surely enough it opens, revealing a disheveled Chief Inspector, wearing nothing but an opened shirt and sweatpants, his Saint Joshua medallion shining brightly under the yellow lighting.

His hair was considerably longer than when he'd first arrived, as it was now curling slightly around his neck and idly falling over his forehead. Danny thinks he looks devilishly handsome, and the entire female population of the town seems to agree with him.

Not that he's jealous, or somethin'.

"Danny," the other breathes out, and only now does the Sergeant notice the red tint of his cheeks and nose, the way he didn't seem to be able to keep his balance, holding himself on to the lintel, "hello."

"Hi," Danny shyly replies, hands in his pockets. "Can I come in ?"

Nicholas blinks twice, a little stupidly, but nods still, moving to the side.

"Ta."

The room is a little moist when the younger man enters, and it's bathed in warm light, the Peace Lily resting near a window, nothing on the small table in the middle of the living room apart from a glass, barely filled, the liquid a nice shade of ember. Had he been drinking ? That would explain his state.

"I'm confused," Danny starts, turning to face his friend. "Why'd you leave the pub ? What's that you can't do ?"

"I—"

"You're really worrying me, y'know ? I know we're really busy with cases, these days, but I...I mean, if I didn't anything wrong, you can jus' tell me. I won't take it personal, promise."

"It's not you," Nicholas sighs, moving away to let himself drop on the couch, head in his hands. "I mean, it's not...it's also me."

"Oh ? So it is, me."

"No ! I—fuck. I don't know what I'm doing."

Danny gently sits next to him, careful not to get into his personal space.

"I can't stay here," the Inspector finally says, and his friend's expression betrays nothing but pure shock. "In Sanford, with—with you."

"What ? But you said—you said you liked it here !"

"And I do ! Danny, I do. I really do."

"Then why—"

"Because I don't deserve it," he whispers, looking up at the TV in front of him, "I don't deserve you."

"That's horseshit," Danny protests, "you saved the village. If someone deserves something, it rather be you, don'tcha think ?"

"Danny—"

"And what's that mean, 'I don't deserve you' ? That's complete crap, mate. We're—we're friends. Partners. You came back for me, yeah ?"

A nod.

"Well, there you go," he says with a smile. "You deserve to be here."

"You're too sweet for me," Nicholas softly replies, "I'm..."

"Reckon you're sweet, too," Danny retorts, but his voice oozes with fondness. "Even if you don't show it easily. I mean, you were with me all throughout my recovery, weren't you ? Like, takin' care of me, an' all. That's sweet. Unless you only did this out of guilt."

"No !" the other booms, eyebrows knitted in worry, "I did this because I—because I care. I wanted to be there. For...for you, I mean."

"Well, there you go."

Nicholas shakes his head, taking Danny's hands in his own.

"I'm waiting for you to realise I'm just not that great," he admits, "that I'm not deserving of you."

"But you are deserving of me," his partner gently rebukes, "an', I want you t'be here, too. It's not like you can get rid of me that easily, y'know ?"

"Yeah. No, yeah, I know."

"Nick," Danny whispers, gingerly taking the other's face in his hands, tilting it so they were facing each other, cerulean and golden eyes meeting jade and amber, "hey. Look at me, Nick."

So he does.

The expression on Danny's face betrays nothing but pure adoration, with a tint of worry. His heart shaped mouth is closed in a firm line, and the scars from the explosion of the police station have started to heal and disappear.

You're beautiful, Nicholas thinks. So gorgeous.

"You're beautiful, too."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh," the Sergeant smiles, stroking his thumb on the clean shaven cheek. "You had a bit of a panic, aye ?"

"I'm sorry," Nicholas shamefully mutters. "I don't know what came over me."

"'s alright," Danny grins, kissing the curve of his lips. "I'm here for that."

"I'm really sorry, Danny. Didn't mean to leave like that. Lack of sleep is getting to me."

"I know, love. You've been tossing 'round quite a lot, these days."

"I have ?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Stop apologising !" Danny laughs, dropping another kiss to his forehead. "It's fine. Maybe you should get melatonin ?"

"Yeah," his lover mumbles with a shrugs. "Probably. I'm beat."

"Bed ?"

"Bed," he nods with a shy smile. "And thank you."

"'s okay. I love you, Nick. Yeah ? You don't forget that, promise ?"

Nicholas holds his hand tighter, guiding him to their shared bedroom.

"Promise."

[smilingformoney]

one of the funniest things I see snaters say is “Lily chose James, get over it!” 😤 like ok??? have you ever interacted with a Snape fan? I’d wager the majority of us think Lily wasn’t good for him and although his enduring love for her is a powerful testament to his capacity for love, if he had any sense of self-worth he would have realised he was seeing her through rose-tinted glasses

In a no-Voldemort world, I would have loved their relationship to heal and see them become friends again. but a romantic pairing? it wouldn’t work. like them or not, James and Lily work romantically. maybe Snape could have found romantic love with someone else, maybe he would happily stay a single pringle. but I really don’t see Snape and Lily ever working romantically and so I really could not give less of a shit that she “chose James”

[wrxsslin-hours]

Hey, Lover (Chapter 1)

next chap |

Bret was only supposed to deliver flowers to Shawn, not fall in love with him.

(Quintessential Delivery Boy x Househusband bretshawn au)

a/n: Hi hello, how y'all doing? Remember that one time I wrote this fic? A year ago, I think? Wild. Since Christmas break is coming along and I don't have classes until the 22nd, I was thinking I should finish this small fic-let. Thank you for readin'

I've rejected affection for years and years. Now I have it, and damn it, it's kind of weird. He tells me I'm pretty. Don't know how to respond. I tell him that he's pretty too. Can I say that? Don't have a clue - "Valentine", Laufey

The flower shop was the apotheosis of all flower shops—small but brimming with buckets and pots of flowers. A tender farrago of lilies, carnations, and hydrangeas filled the room. The floor was a mess of leaves and rogue petals; the shelves above, a nest of ribbons and silk. Wrapping papers crumpled, and the radio sang. Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains and bathed the room in warmth; dust and pollen danced in its rays. It was a peek into the world through pink-tinted glasses, a sea of reds and whites. And in the middle of it all, Bret arranged roses as if he were a man on a mission.

Like clockwork, Bret tied a bow around the neck of the bouquet and gently placed it beside the others he had made. He rubbed the underside of his nose to block the overpowering aroma of flowers. The corners of his lips tugged into a frown. Customers would say the scent was heavenly; Bret would beg to differ. Curly black tresses framed his face as the sound of hushed giggles drowned the staccato melodies of the radio. An annoyed huff sliced through the air. Bruce, Bret’s brother, let out an exasperated sigh, his nose buried between the pages of his newspaper.

“Would you two stop poking your noses where they don’t belong?”

Bruce’s reprimand fell on deaf ears. Bret turned his head to Owen and Elizabeth, the sides of their faces glued to the cracked door of their parents’ shared office. It wasn’t too long ago that a tall man came barreling down the shop doors, wallet in his hands like a rifle ready to shoot through every assortment of tulips and orchids. The stranger was a far cry from their regular customers. He didn’t have the caved shoulders of a shy teen or the worried lines of a husband who forgot his anniversary. He was confident and sharp, savvy like a businessman with a heartthrob smile. He wasn’t the average Joe. And after such a slow day of work, his intrusion caught everyone’s attention. It’s been ten minutes since their parents whisked the man away into their office, and Owen and Elizabeth sat fixated on the shadows that shifted underneath the gap in the door.

Owen waved his hand, and his sandy blonde hair swayed as he did so. He reeled his head back to face his brother’s furrowed brows with furrowed brows of his own. “Pipe down, Bruce. I can’t hear a thing over your yapping.”

The older Hart gritted his teeth, ready to crack from the tension of his jaw. Before he had the chance to stand, roll his newspaper, and whack Owen upside the head, Elizabeth squealed and stopped him dead in his tracks. Four pairs of eyes darted to her as she slid her back down the wall, her hands on her flushed cheeks.

“He ordered fifty roses.” She swooned, the skirt of her lilac dress pooling around her as she sat on the floor. Owen scrambled beside his sister, his head cemented onto the door once more. As the conversation beyond the door rambled on, Owen hung onto every faint word his ears could decipher.

“Fifty roses!” Owen gasped, disbelief in his eyes. The blonde turned his head to his brothers and wiggled his eyebrows, “Talk about a Casanova.”

Elizabeth pushed herself to her feet, leaves on her skirt. “Isn’t it romantic?” she mused starry-eyed. “I’d love to get a bouquet like that,” she sighed, her head tilted heavenward.

Jim rolled his eyes at her daydreaming, gaze as dark as the stem-covered marble counter he lay on. He pursed his lips and twirled a flower between his fingers, “Fifty roses are daylight robbery. Pretty sappy if you ask me.” He plucked a leaf from its stem. “This guy must be loaded to make an order like that.”

Bruce sat down on a stool, the soles of his shoes balanced on its footrest. He shrugged his shoulders as he opened his newspaper and went to the page he left off. “That just means there’s more money for us.” He leaned his head back and laughed.

The office door suddenly flew open and thwacked Owen square on the face. A groan escaped the blonde’s lips. But his pain was left muted by the gruff voice of the man that opened the door. “Watch it, twerp,” the man snapped, his face red and his suit white.

Cowboy hat on his head, chocolate-colored eyes pointed to the studded watch on his wrist. The man’s black loafers, shined to perfection, smacked against the checker-tiled floor. Like a tornado, he stormed out of the shop and knocked every pot that stood in his way. Bret stared as the stranger crossed the street, entered his eggshell-colored limousine, and drove off. Bruce grumbled as he, Jim, and Elizabeth picked up the pots the man pushed down. Owen shakily stood up beside Bret with his hands on his nose and redness on his forehead. “I’m not delivering for that jerk,” he sneered. He patted Bret on the shoulder, “He’s all yours.”

Before Bret could retort, their parents strode into the room, an argument along with them. “We can’t possibly have fifty roses ready for today,” Helen bickered as she unfolded the napkin their customer gave, her hair brown like the apron she wore. “We won’t have them restocked until Saturday.”

Stu huffed as his eyes darted around his shop before they stopped on the rose bouquets on Bret’s work table. He grabbed the flowers and began to unwrap them. He piled the roses into a hill and cast everything else aside. Bret sputtered, his shades sliding down the bridge of his nose as he did so, “Dad, those were an order for Miss Mae–”

“Miss Mae can wait, Bret.” Stu wrapped the roses with precision. Helen sighed beside him as she plucked a notecard and began to write down whatever their latest client scribbled on the coffee-stained napkin. “Mr. Layfield is paying big money to have his delivery done today,” Stu explained. “It’s the biggest order we got since we opened, so we should make him happy.”

It didn’t take long for Bret to have a behemoth of a bouquet in his arms and a clipboard tucked under his chin. Bret could feel the dull pinch of thorns on his biceps; the aroma of roses bombarded his nose as it completely buried his upper body. With one last tweak on the bouquet from his mother, Bret was out the door and into the delivery truck. Before he could drive off, his father’s voice rang in the breeze. Bret peeked over the roses to see Stu waving at him. “Take off your sunglasses!” he exclaimed, hands around his mouth to amplify his words. Bret fought to roll his eyes as he dragged his sunglasses to the top of his head and steered the truck into the busy streets.

Bret passed a flurry of saloons and office buildings. The world outside the truck was a blur of greens and grays. White picket fences turned into towering hedgerows, wooden street lights turned into metal lamp posts, and mismatched row houses turned into palatial mansions. Bret’s delivery truck stuck out like a sore thumb in the presence of luxury sedans. A low whistle escaped his lips as he slowed to a halt in front of the rose bouquet’s intended.

A mansion stood tall in the presence of neatly trimmed hedges and surrounded by an army of limousines and cars. Upon the home’s slate roof was an array of leaves connected to twining vines that hugged its brick walls, and behind those vines were large arched windows, like hair that covered soulful eyes. Bret could faintly make out the beige curtains behind the glass panes. He grabbed the bouquet and reveled in the manor’s beauty. It was the picture of pristine perfection, a scene straight from the home magazines his mother would regularly read. Bret would’ve been impressed if the mansion didn’t look like every other house in the cul-de-sac. He grabbed the rose bouquet and slipped his clipboard on top of it. The gravel path crinkled underneath his feet as he walked to the manor’s grand double doors. The sun bore onto his skin as Bret pushed the doorbell with his elbow. He rolled his eyes at the sound of cowbells that echoed in his ears. The doorbell tune was ostentatious as the roses in his hands.

Silence filtered the air. Bret clicked his tongue and pushed the doorbell again, the sound of the doorbell more annoying than the first. He juggled the flowers in his hands as he looked down at the address written on his clipboard. The idea of being in the wrong house filled his mind, but before Bret could turn his back from the door, it swung open. ‘Finally,’ Bret thought. With his eyes still on his clipboard, he tilted his head to the side. “Does Mr. Shawn Layfield live here?” he asked.

“Well, hello to you too, handsome,” a voice drawled, sweet like honey and slow like molasses.

Bret’s head shot up as a chill ran down his spine. His dark eyes landed on the man in front of him, his breath hitched. Bret balanced the bouquet in one hand as he tugged on the collar of his pink shirt with the other. He expected the thick velvet of a butler’s tuxedo, not the glossy sheen of a silk robe. He expected thinning silver hair, not damp blond curls that clung to tanned skin. Bret was ready to smell the musk of dust, not the aroma of cigarettes and Parisian perfume. He shook his head in a vain attempt to escape the other man’s allure. “I have flowers for him.”

Shawn’s smile widened, “Are they from you?”

“They’re from–” Bret read his clipboard – “Mr. John Bradshaw Layfield.”

The blond’s smile left as fast as it came. He pursed his lips like he was chewing on a lemon rind and leaned against the door frame. “A bit over-the-top, isn’t it?”

Bret gave a wry grin. “I wouldn’t know. I’m just the delivery boy.” Bret waited for the other to take the bouquet from his hands. But the door only opened wider. The delivery boy raised a brow; his head cocked to the side.

“What?” Shawn shrugged; his robe slid down his shoulder as he did so. “You don’t expect me to carry all of that, do you?”

Bret blinked owlishly. Shawn seemed perfectly capable of carrying the order. He gazed at the taut muscle underneath Shawn’s clothes for a moment. And at the drop of a hat, Bret’s eyes stayed pointedly on the blond’s bedroom eyes. “You’re a delivery boy,” Shawn continued. He stepped to the side, his brow in a sly arch, “Go on and deliver.”

Bret frowned and took a wary step. Shawn guided him into the living room, and Bret followed as if God watched him. Cautious and guarded, Bret took each step as if it was his last. The shuffle of carpet slowly replaced the sound of shoes against the wooden floor. And Bret caught himself in the company of lush couches and intricate cabinets as Shawn excused himself to get a vase. He tapped his toe against the white tiger rug underneath him as the chandelier shined above his head. To say Bret felt out of place was an understatement. The living space was lavish, just like everything else in the mansion. Bookshelves as tall as the ceiling covered half of the room, each shelf overflowing with novels and encyclopedias. In the corner was a grand piano, free from dust and fingerprints. Paintings upon paintings hung from the walls, bronze candelabras scattered along the corridors. Bret narrowed his eyes. There were no framed pictures or lightly stained patches on the floor. The house was opulent, but it didn’t seem as lived-in as it should be. His contemplation was interrupted by Shawn’s call.

“Tell me, delivery boy, what do these flowers mean?” He asked as he placed the water-filled vase on the coffee table and situated himself on one of the many chairs in the room. “Don’t they have meanings? The language of flowers and whatnot.”

Bret hesitantly unwrapped the bouquet and propped the roses inside the porcelain vase. He handed the notecard to the blond with a rehearsed smile, “That’s what cards are for.”

“You are so boring.” Shawn stretched on the chair; his legs dangled on its cushioned armrest. “Read the note for me.”

The delivery boy exhaled through his nose and closed his eyes. Bret would’ve left ages ago if his father wasn’t so insistent about pleasing their clients. Not wanting to waste any more time, he began to read the card. “Love of my life–”

“Is it too late to return the bouquet?”

Bret couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him. The corner of Shawn’s lip quirked up at the sound of his laughter. He twirled a strand of his golden hair between his fingers, “You should rest a bit before you go.” Shawn stood up and strolled towards Bret, “You must be tired.” He brushed his hand against Bret’s forearm and grinned at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“I should go, Mr. Layfield–”

“Call me Shawn.” He peeked up at Bret through his lashes, “You’ve got a name, delivery boy?”

“What I do have are other deliveries to do.” Bret felt his cheeks warm as he raised his clipboard and offered the other man a pen, “I need your signature, Mr. Layf– Shawn.”

Shawn pouted, his shoulders sagged as he took the pen and clipboard from Bret’s grasp; their fingers brushed against one another. Bret bit his top lip as Shawn signed the paper with a flourish and gave the clipboard back to him. The delivery boy could feel the tension leave his body; this whole fiasco was finally sealed to a close. “It’s been a pleasure, Shawn.”

The blond took an abrupt step towards Bret’s personal space; their chests flushed together. Shawn tucked the pen behind the other’s ear. “The pleasure’s all mine,” he purred.

The tension left Bret, and his soul might as well follow along with it.

A stormy haze engulfed Bret’s consciousness, and it didn’t clear up until he was seated in his truck. The events that transpired minutes ago replayed in his mind like a broken cassette tape. He combed his fingers through his hair, and the pen balanced behind the shell of his ear fell on the passenger seat beside him. His eyes darted to the clipboard on his lap; the name ‘Shawn Michaels’ written on the signature line mocked him. He glanced at the mansion’s reflection on the crooked rearview mirror, and with the thoughts of Shawn plaguing him, he drove off.

Shawn didn’t cross Bret’s mind again until a week later. He was sat on the counter redoing the messy ribbons Owen hurriedly tied beforehand when his dad lumbered into the shop with a box of lavender colored craft paper in his arms. Bret raised a questioning brow at Owen, and their father placed the box on the counter. “Big order coming up,” the older Hart mused.

Bret could already feel the sleepless hours they will undoubtedly spend making flower arrangements. Owen groaned at the very thought. Their father cleared the counter from leaves and petals, letting them drop to the floor. “Mr. Layfield has a soiree in a week and since he loved our flowers the last time, he wanted us to arrange flowers for it.”

Owen groaned even louder and slouched in his chair. “Hate that guy,” the blonde grumbled under his breath, a sour taste still in his mouth from the last time their rich client last visited them. “That guy is paying for our food on the table, son,” Stu tutted.

As both Harts bickered back and forth, Bret gulped. Bret usually didn’t think of the people he delivered flowers to; their faces stay blurred for the short time they linger in his thoughts. But Shawn, with his not-so-subtle interest and that damned silk robe of his, was the exception.

“I bet his husband didn’t even like the bouquet!” Owen complained. Their father scowled but couldn’t disagree. The younger Hart wrapped his arm around Bret, “Right, Bret? The guy didn’t like it, did he?”

Bret ignored his brother, instead feigning nonchalance with a cross of his arms. He turned to Stu, “Say, do you know anything about Layfield’s husband?” Stu hummed, rummaging through the box he carried in, “The boy got married to Layfield the moment he graduated college. Layfield paraded the young man around like a prized diamond to his even richer friends. That’s about everything people know around here.” Owen butted himself into the conversation, “He doesn’t have good taste, then.” Stu shooed his younger son away with a roll of ribbons.

Bret fiddled with the ends of a flower stem, distracting himself. Stu gave him a knowing look, and Bret shifted his eyes to the lone pair of scissors on the floor, far more interesting than the squinted look of his father at that moment. “His husband is coming here later to discuss decorations. I won’t be here—” Owen clapped his hands, already aware of where their father was hinting at. “Oh, would you look at the time, I should really help Lizzy with the groceries. Okay, bye!” Owen bolted out of the store in a breath, the front door bell jingled when he set foot outside and left his family staring at his retreating form.

Stu clicked his tongue before he fished out his notepad from his back pocket. He handed it to Bret, “Just make sure to keep the customer happy.”

It wasn’t that Bret was avoiding Shawn, far from it. But when presented with the chance to flirt back with a man married to someone who could buy all of Bret’s possessions that he’s had or will ever have, he’d rather steer clear of it. But there was something about Shawn that Bret could not stop thinking about. From the beauty mark underneath his lashes to the way he smirked at Bret’s flustered state, Shawn was beautiful, and he knew it all too well. He seemed to know just the right buttons to press to make Bret second-guess his words. And the Hart was trapped between a rock and a hard place when Shawn finally visited the flower shop, an hour late from schedule.

Looking at Shawn made Bret unconsciously smooth out the wrinkles of his shirt and fix his hair any chance he got. Under Shawn’s gaze, Bret felt awfully small. When Shawn entered the store, he brought in an air of sweetness, the type that makes Bret’s mouth water. It was a nice change from the aroma of flowers, and for once, Bret didn’t have the urge to hide his nose behind his hand. Shawn dressed simply, but with the way he carried himself, it proved otherwise. He was fond of silk, Bret noticed, as his eyes trailed from his silk shirt to the jeans that hugged his waist.

“Hi, delivery boy.”

Bret blinked; his eyes shot back to Shawn’s face. “Welcome, Mr. Layfield,” Bret managed to utter. Shawn pouted, “I told you not to call me that.”

The blonde locked his gaze on the array of flowers behind Bret, his pout melting into a grin. “Those are pretty. I wish I got those bouquets instead.”

Bret turned to where Shawn was staring and laughed, “50 roses not good enough for you?” Shawn smiled, “Not even good to begin with.”

[arianatwycross]

A Sweet Meet Cute

because I'm a sucker for these two flirting, this was dreamt up.

“Please tell me you have one left.” Lily’s bag hits the counter with a loud, unceremonious thud. “I’m in desperate need for a caramel doughnut, preferably one with those caramelised pecans on top.” 

Her friend Mary looks over from across the counter of the Cafe. “Early morning meeting again?” 

“We’re still working on that project with Australia, which means one of us has to deal with the short stick. It was a 5am start today.” The stool squeaks as Lily sits down, the sound ripping at her temple, adding to the heavy fatigue of the start of her day. 

“I don’t envy you.”

keep reading below or read on A03

Lily shrugs, “If I actually want to do some good in the world, working with the Australian researchers is the way to go. I’m going to need the biggest cup of coffee you can find too.” 

“The coffee I can do. The doughnut, though. That’s going to be a problem.”

“Come on, Mary,” Lily says, sniffing the air. “You have one, I smell it.” 

“You can’t smell it.” 

“You underestimate my senses.” 

Mary glances under the counter. Her attention settles on a spot near the end of the bar, where the doughnuts are kept beneath a heavy glass dome. They’re a speciality at Casseopia Cafe - handmade pieces of pure joy created by the owner's wife. 

The look in Mary’s eye tells Lily that one of her favourites is left. The problem is, they’re her favourite too.

“I’ll jump the bar and get it myself,” Lily warns. Mary laughs, filling the mostly vacant front of house. “There’s one left, but-” 

“No buts- None,” Lily says, talking fast so her friend can’t interrupt her. “I. Need. That. Doughnut. This morning’s meeting has already fried my brain and I just need something to make me feel alive again, ok?” 

“You need to get laid. That would help you feel alive.” Mary grins. 

Lily frowns, “Doughnuts are enough for me. At least, at the moment.” 

Lily holds her hand out, palm up, and looks Mary in the eye. She waits for Lily to crack. When a few long seconds pass and Mary still hasn’t even blinked, Lily sighs. 

“Someone bought it,” Mary says. 

Brushing a strand of her long red hair out of her face as if preparing for battle, she narrows her gaze, “No.” 

“No?” 

“You aren’t allowed to keep the doughnuts for yourself if a paying customer wants them.” Lily chides. 

“Lily-” 

“And not more than doughnuts on a day like today.” 

“It’s sold,” Mary states, a little more seriously this time. 

Lily shoo’s her away. Like a child, Lily climbs onto the stool, knees on the seat, and peers over the bar. Just as Lily suspected, perched on a baby blue ceramic plate, sits a glorious pecan-topped caramel doughnut. 

The sight alone makes Lily’s mouth water. Stress slipping from her shoulders already. Staring at the pecans, Lily almost forgets about the missed calls from her sister this morning and how much work she still needs to do from a deadline that week. 

“Want me to go ahead and grab it?” Lily asks. The words come out strangled because of her inverted position. When Mary doesn’t answer, she looks up. 

She’s looking behind Lily, smoothing out her pink apron. The flirty smile on Mary’s lips clearly isn't for her. 

“Hey,” Lily says in an attempt to draw her attention back, “Give it to me.” 

“If you insist.” 

Lily freezes. 

The voice, all gravelly and deep, isn't Mary’s. And unless Mary has become a ventriloquist with a penchant for a leather-scented cologne that sends chills racing down her spine to her gym leggings behind - a behind that’s currently up in the air...

Oh, shit. 

Lily’s body tilts over the bar as she tries to find the internal switch from awe to action. 

She swallows as she surveys the situation from her precarious position. Mary’s cheeks are tinted pink as she drops her gaze to Lily’s. The giggle hidden by a twist of her lips tells Lily one thing that she knows to be true: whoever is behind Lily is seriously good-looking to warrant the sparkle lighting up her friend's face. 

Lowering herself to the stool slowly, she keeps her gaze focused on the blackboard of menu items adorning the wall behind Mary’s head. 

“I’ll take the doughnut to go, please,” Lily says with a gulp. 

“And I’ll have mine here.” 

His voice must be inches behind her, and the proximity makes Lily jump. He chuckles before sitting down. 

The richness of his scent blends with the honeyness of his voice - she can hear a slight plummy accent, and she considers what will happen if she dissolves into the barstool right then and there. It’s too early in the day to be humiliating herself in front of cute strangers. 

She grabs her bag and digs deep. Sorting through receipts and sweet wrappers (particularly fruit salad sweets) only reminds her how much life is a jumbled mess right now, but it's better than looking at the guy who just saw her arse up in the air. In the thinnest pair of leggings she owns, and with the brightest pair of pink knickers she owns. 

A muscled forearm extends across the counter, taking a cup of coffee from Mary. “Thank you,” he says. 

Hands still stuck in her bag, wrapped around her purse, she looks at Mary. 

Mary grins, “Did you say you wanted coffee?” 

Lily clears her throat, trying to ignore the pull of energy from the man beside her. “Yes, please. I'll take it with me.”

Mary scoops up the doughnut. As soon as she’s gone, focusing on the coffee machine at the front of the store, the room seems to shrink around her. Fidgeting in her seat, knowing the guy just saw her in a very unflattering position, she starts to stand. 

“You aren’t from around here either. I take it,” he says, before I can execute my plan to flee. “I mean with your accent and all.” 

She considers pretending he isn’t talking to her and ignoring him altogether, but that would be rude. And as things are going, his voice might be the highlight of her day, so she sits again. 

“You mean, I don’t sound like I’m from Manchester or from Bollington?”  She asks, still not looking at him. “I’m shocked, I thought I had my northern accent spot on.” 

He chuckles. “Sorry. You sound very Southern, or even just from London.”

“I’m from Brighton actually, but I’ve lived here a long time...” The words drift away along with all coherent thought, as her gaze is snagged. Despite ascertaining from Mary’s reaction that he’s cute. She’s wholly unprepared for the delicious package in front of her. 

Staring back at her are the prettiest eyes she’s ever seen. A gorgeous mix of green and brown. His brows are heavy, his lashes thick and if she could find her voice, she would compliment them. Smooth, tanned skin is highlighted by a brilliant white smile. A sturdy jaw is softened by laugh lines at the corner of his full lips and his dark curls leave even her smuttiest dreams lacking. 

She untangles her gaze from his just in time to see Mary coming around the corner with her doughnut on a plate. Just like that, everything comes rushing back. 

She doesn’t realise her shoulders had relaxed or the throb in her temple has eased, but she’s well aware when they slam back into her again. 

“Did I forget to tell you that I wanted that to go?” She asks, rubbing the side of her head. 

“You told me.” She says, and sets the plate down in front of him. 

“Hey,” Lily says pointing at the plate, “That’s mine.” 

He looks at the doughnut and then at her. Lily fully expects him to slide the plate her way. There’s not part of her, not a piece the size of those caramelised pecans, that thinks he won't. 

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he smirks. 

“At the risk of you stabbing me with a fork. I beg to differ.” He then tells Mary, “This looks delicious, thank you.”

“You are so welcome.” Mary chirps back. 

Lily glares at her friend. “You can’t give that to him because he’s cute, Mary.”

“Hey now,” he interrupts with a furrowed brow. “I’m not sure I like ‘cute’. Ruggedly handsome? Roguishly attractive, maybe?” 

“Thief?” Lily offers. 

He lifts his fork like he’s taunting her, but doesn’t touch the doughnut. 

“Um, maybe I gave it to him because he ordered it first,” Mary offers. 

Mary's snip cracks open the dam holding the trickle of her last patience. Lily half stands and half sits on the stool, “Do you even know what happened to me this morning, Mary?” 

“No.” 

“Let me fill you in,” Lily says through clenched teeth. “Not only did I have a very important meeting at 5 in the morning, but my smoke detector started chirping at 3 in the morning, because the battery went flat, despite me changing them last week. Ok? And I was too short to reach it without climbing on a chair, but because it was 3 in the morning, I fell. Hit my knee, bumped my elbow and cried. Like a baby.” 

Mary bites her bottom lip to keep from laughing. 

“Then-” 

“Hold up,” he says. 

“Shush, doughnut thief,” Lily says, waving her hand at him. “Then, I couldn’t make my coffee because SOMEONE used my last Nespresso pod yesterday - which I like to add you work at a cafe so you can afford not to use MY coffee when you decide to visit in the mornings. AND, because my 5am meeting wasn’t hard enough, my deadline got pushed forward to the end of this week.” Lily takes a lungful of air. “I’m over today, and it’s not even really started yet.” 

“Ouch,” the man says, taking Lily’s need for oxygen as a cue to add his opinion, “That is a rough morning.” 

“Oh, it gets better,” she insists, feeling her blood shoot through her veins. “Then Ben messages me.” 

“Sticky notes Ben?” 

“Stop calling him that.” 

“That’s what Marlene called him the entire time you were dating him.” 

“Sticky notes?” the man asks. 

“I didn’t date him.” Lily glares at her friend. 

“Want to know what's the most surprising about this entire morning? I’ve managed to act like a lady and haven’t taken that doughnut right off your plate.” 

He chuckles. 

“This isn’t funny.” Lily bounces in her seat, trying not to beg while also trying not to snatch the doughnut off his plate. It’s not so much that she needs the doughnut itself, it’s the comfort of the sweet carbs that will remind her of her Mum’s homemade caramel pecan tarts that can give her the illusion that everything is going to be ok. 

Ignoring Lily’s puppy dog eyes, he digs his phone out of the pocket of his trousers. His fingers flying across the screen. 

Lily takes the moment to study him from the side. The light catches the lighter strands of brown in his hair. His face is freshly shaved, and she wonders vaguely what he would look like with a good three-day stubble. 

For a moment, the doughnut is forgotten. In its place is a thought as delicious as the caramel icing - of the taste of the theifs lips on hers. Her little daydream is halted when he slips his phone back into his pocket. 

“How much do I owe you?” He asks Mary. 

“6 quid.” 

He fishes the change out of his wallet and passes it over to her. “Pay for her coffee too. Can I get a coffee to go though?”

“Sure,” Mary says, taking the money and strolling to the register, leaving the thief and Lily alone. 

“Did you just buy my coffee?” She asks. 

“Yes.” 

“You know what goes good with coffee...” She looks at his plate and then back at him. All he does is laugh. 

He gets to his feet, unfolding a body that’s taller and harder than she expected. His trousers are coupled with a smart linen shirt, tight enough against his body that she can see the curve of his biceps and the dip of his waist. 

“Are you finished?” He asks. 

Lily zips a line from his polished shoes to his face. “What do you mean?” 

“I don’t want to walk out of here until you’ve finished appreciating me.” He grins, “If you’re done, I need to go.” 

A very hot blush covers her body, and when he laughs, she wonders if he's thinking it's the same colour as her knickers. That makes her blush more. 

“You are not the gentlemen I hoped you were.” 

He smiles devilishly, assessing her as he shoves his wallet back into his pocket. Then, with a pained expression and a dose of hesitation for her benefit, he slides his plate in front of her. “Here. You can have my doughnut. I know it's not all you wanted but it will have to do.” He takes the coffee cup from Mary for the road. 

“I didn’t hear anything you said after, “You can have my doughnut,” Lily says, sticking her finger through the thick icing on top. “But thanks.” 

“They have forks you know.” 

“I know, but I wanted to make sure you didn’t ask for it back.” A warmth spreads through her tummy as he smiles. “Thanks for this.” 

“You’re welcome, Brighton.” He heads to the door but stops before exiting. Looking at Lily over his shoulder, he narrows his eyes. The feel of his attention on her changes. It’s thicker. Not uncomfortable, but it makes her squirm nonetheless. “I’m James Potter, by the way. What’s your name?” 

“I’m Lily.” Her voice is breathier than usual, and if she wasn’t still flushed from getting caught staring at him, she might blush again, “Lily Evans.” 

“It was nice to meet you.” His features soften as he steps into the sunlight. “Oh, If I didn’t mention it, you owe me for the doughnut.” 

And with a final grin that makes Lily sink into her seat, he’s gone. 

[saintchaser]

and so, sirius ran. he ran through space and memories and pages of his life.

he ran through dark corridors and eyes of grey. he ran through memories of a mother and a father and a younger brother and of could have beens and should have beens that never will be.

he ran through train smoke and askew glasses and scarred faces and pink-tinted cheeks. he ran through laughs and tears and warmth and found families and goodbyes and moments that won’t last.

he ran through hazel eyes and hard kisses of soft mouths and warm breaths and somethings of nothings and anythings and everythings and none of it makes sense, yet it fits perfectly together.

he ran through alcohol and cigarettes and blood and sweat and grime and filth and all that made what had been those years, through grief and death and anger and all kinds of things.

he ran through lonely years and cold, filthy cells and spite and anger and rage and days, days, days, days that shift into months and months that shift into years and a loss of time.

he ran through james’ son and lily’s eyes and the house he used to live in and he lived all of it at the same intensity as before, only now he was wiser, or he was supposed to be.

he ran through his anger, through his cruelty, through his recklessness, through his loyalty and devotion and determination and through what made him who he was, which he didn’t even know anymore.

he ran, and he always did. a cold, december night was the start of it, and from then on. he ran; it was of courage, of change and of acceptance, and maybe that would happen one day. maybe he’d stop running; maybe he wouldn’t.

and so, sirius ran, to the end of the line, where it all clicked together once more. he wasn’t alone; he never had been, and he never will be again.

[favoniuscodex]

"it's snowing."

your words pierce through the quiet of angel's share. the rowdy tavern has long since stilled, being replaced with the sounds of clinking glass as diluc places a freshly cleaned cup back in its rightful place. you, on the other hand, have forsaken your duty of wiping down the tables. the window allured you much more, with the sight of the first yearly flurries pulling your attention from your tavern closing duties.

there's a lilt of joy in your voice as you speak, dampened softly by the tiredness that occurs when awake this late. it clings to the edges of syllables, frenzying the slithering sounds of s with sharp enthusiasm. despite the chill of standing near the cold glass, wintry winds whistling through the window panes, your expression is blissful and warm.

diluc cannot understand your fondness for the snow. as a youth, when he had finally received his pyro vision, he found refuge on chilly days, when the bitter cold would ease the constant heat of the flames that now seemed to consume him from the inside outwards. now, he shies away from it, preferring to dampen his warmth with the heavy fabric of his familiar black attire. such actions fail to provide any proper thermoregulation, but diluc can't bring himself to change course. the coat shields his past from the world, with few seeing the scarred arms that take shelter within the sleeves.

"is it now?" diluc muses.

diluc has never been one for small talk. if it had been anyone else to comment on the weather outside, he would have replied with a simple hum of acknowledgment. when with you, however, he always wishes to hear your voice. when with you, he'll indulge. whether he's truly indulging you or himself, he isn't quite sure, but the joy that radiates off you is a reward nonetheless.

"yes! first snow of the season, i think!" you tear your gaze from the darkened window, whose landscape outside glows with faint sunset-stained streetlamp hues. the flurries catch in the light, shining a brilliant white as they dance their way down to their fallen compatriots on the ground. instead of watching the disorganized promenade of the snow's descent, you instead observe your lover.

upon noticing the redirection of your glance, he quickly diverts his gaze from you. diluc's cheeks tint with pink as he avoids your glance like a schoolboy not wanting to be caught staring by his crush. the blush on his cheeks deepens as you let out a giggle at his sheepishness, but you use the opportunity to blatantly ogle him. you drink in the sight of your lover, who has now moved on to wiping down the countertop. his hidden muscles ripple as he wipes down the counter, yet your admiration for his appearance tonight is not driven by a lust-filled haze that typically clouds your brain whenever you are reminded of his strength.

instead, you take note that diluc's coat has been cast aside, with short sleeves revealing flame-scarred arms. it is a display of trust, even if he'd never admit it. it simply makes it easier to clean, he'd say if you pointed out. nothing more, nothing less. but he'd put the coat back on and cover his hands with the stiff leather gloves he wears outside. diluc is entirely at ease with you, but not with his appearance, so bringing attention to what he perceives as flaws, even if telling him how beautiful you find the healed traces of novice pyro wielding that paint his arms, would only cause him to close back up once more.

and thus, wanting to see the petals of your glaze lily of a lover, you sing the song that diluc wants to hear. too much sunshine, too much warmth, too much radiance at once will cause him to hide, scrunching up until alone in the moonlight once more. you opt to carry on your simple melodies of idle conversation in hopes that you can one day perform operas dedicated to all of him that you love (his entirety) even if he does not understand why you feel such a way.

thus, you talk of snow.

diluc finishes his cleaning of the counter and looks up at you, eyes widening at the realization that your gaze has never left him. you smile softly, easily, familiarly to him, and he finds refuge, alertness easing into a gaze of fondness.

"you're not going to come look?" you ask. the heavy implication of wanting your lover by your side is softened by your gentle tone, and diluc can only oblige, wordlessly walking over to your side.

diluc doesn't have much interest in the weather outside, but if you told him to leap off starsnatch cliff, he would without a second thought. looking at the snowflakes that quietly flutter outside is of little effort to him, and if it makes you content, he is all the more happy to do it. lost in his thoughts of you as he looks out at the frosty landscape outside, diluc fails to notice the way your gaze has shifted to his calloused fingers. you use the close proximity to him to lace your fingers through his.

startled by the physical contact, diluc jolts, and the loosening of his hand causes you to retract yours. uncertainty quickly mars your once blissful expression as you pull your hand back to your side.

"sorry, i didn't mean t-" you begin. diluc has always been the kind to patiently let you speak, always alert for your next words, but he uncharacteristically interrupts.

"no, please, i did not intend for..." in a rare occurrence, diluc's words are flustered as he loses his train of thought. crimson eyes set their sights on your hand and diluc hastily snatches it back to his side, fingers fumbling their way into the cracks between your own. his heavy palm presses against your own as he firmly clasps his fingertips against the back of your palm, forming an ironclad cage around your hand.

is a cage still a cage if you wish to be within it?

diluc lifts your conjoined hands to his face, lips brushing against the back of your palm. the gesture satiates your nerves as diluc lowers your hands, taking half a step closer to you so that your shoulders are practically touching. he clears his throat.

"my... apologies," he says, words slow as he mulls over them. the two of you have been together enough to share soft-spoken i love yous, but tonight feels more different. tonight feels more intimate, even if the three little words have yet to be uttered by each of you. there is a thick tension that diluc is unwilling to cut through, instead carefully selecting his words to cause it to fester.

"the snow is beautiful," he murmurs.

both of you know he isn't talking about the snow. he pauses, looking back out at the cobblestone streets of mondstadt that are slowly being buried under the intensifying snowfall. his lips part slightly, and the snow outside is forgotten as you await your lovers next words, wondering what thoughts are taking him so long to properly formulate.

"you do not have your coat."

diluc's words nearly make you laugh out of sheer confusion, but you remain silent. you could say the same for him, but conflict continues to ebb into his expression, so you remain quiet, letting him figure out what he wishes to say next.

"do you..." he begins, face erupting into crimson hues, the deepest blush you've ever seen on the winery owner. diluc shakes his head slightly to clear his thoughts. you wonder what he's thinking of. his touches have never roamed beyond your waist and the expanse of your face and neck as he presses kisses to the smooth skin that resides there. yet, his gaze does not divert to the lower parts of your body, instead focusing on your eyes. diluc is ever the gentleman, and you realize that is why he is struggling to formulate his next words. perhaps he will offer you his coat so that you can get home while remaining warm and-

"you cannot possibly walk home without a coat," he blurts, and you wait for his sacrifice of his favorite piece of clothing for the night.

yet, it never comes. you feel diluc's palm warm with pyro energy, threatening to erupt, but the temperature returns back to normal as he clears his throat once more. he diverts his gaze for a brief moment, glancing back at the snow before staring at you once more. crimson irises are filled with love, adoration, vulnerability, and earnestness. you trust the painting of emotion that is stored within them, willing to reveal your entire self to them if requested. diluc isn't offering you his coat, is he? flustered heat overwhelms him and inexperienced words spew forth like magma breaking past the surface, yet they take away your breath nonetheless.

"would you care to stay the night?"