#november staff picks

[music]

🍂 November staff picks from the Tumblr team 🍂

[smithlibrary]

Elizabeth says: Clue: The Movie released in 1985 is comedy/mystery based on the board game. This is an under appreciated American classic starring some of comedy's greatest. When I think about how it flopped at the box office it makes me so, it… it flamed… flames. FLAMES… on the side of my face.

Call number: ADVD CLU

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ i ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: not beta-read. not edited. enjoy reading.

masterlist.

You are not surprised when Max Verstappen won the 2023 Formula One season. Given how he dominated each Grand Prix in the season, except Singapore but we don't talk about Singapore, you kind of expected the results already. This is Max's third time winning the WDC title and that makes you the manager of a three-time WDC title holder now. As someone who worked with the guy the last five years, you are immensely proud of Max. You’ve been working as his manager ever since 2019—you, twenty-three, a fresh graduate of Mechanical Engineering and he, twenty-one, an aspiring world champion but you've known each other since 2018—so you knew better than anyone else, better than Christian Horner even, just how much it took from Max just to reach the place where he is standing right now. Furthermore, Red Bull Racing also won the Constructor’s Championship so everyone in the team cannot be any happier. Celebrations are in order, of course, but you have excused yourself to retire early in the evening instead. Max has asked you why. You replied that you're tired and that's the only truth you can offer him.

You draft your resignation letter whilst everyone at Red Bull is partying in some place else in Abu Dhabi. Good for them honestly. What better way is there to celebrate a victory than with alcohol? Fortunately, there's canned beer on the mini fridge so that's your share of the victory alcohol tonight while you're hunched over your laptop on the couch. Rihanna is playing from your laptop speakers in a Youtube playlist in another Google tab while you work on the letter on a separate Google Docs tab.

Dear ________,

Please accept this letter as my formal resignation from my position as the manager of Red Bull Racing first driver, Max Verstappen, effective seven days from today’s date, November 26, 2023.

I appreciate the opportunities for growth and development you have provided me during the five years I worked for this amazing team. Leaving is not an easy decision for me but in order to further my career, I have to spread my wings and explore. Please let me know if I can help with anything to make my resignation easier for the company staff.

Thank you, Red Bull, for giving me wings and the courage to fly. Now, I believe it is time for me to soar new skies. I will cherish the time I have spent here in Red Bull Racing.

Sincerely,

[First Name] [Last Name].

You read it over and over again, checking for errors in the spelling or the grammatical structure.

“Thank you Red Bull for giving me wings and the courage to fly….” you mutter. What Red Bull gave you was five decades worth of stress. One decade's worth of stress for each year since you were accepted in the team. “Cringy as fuck.”

Your phone abruptly rings and you jump in surprise, dropping your phone and your beer and oh shoot, you almost dropped your laptop, too. You scramble to pick up the canned beer, hissing slightly when you see the liquid form a pool on the tiled floor. Your initial response is to avoid it so you sidestepped and kicked your YSL heels away from the puddle. The heels are previously placed next to your feet neatly but now they're thrown haphazardly on the floor a few meters away. Your eyes quickly search for a towel, or anything you can use to wipe that shit off before it reaches the expensive hotel carpet, but there is no towel in your vicinity and the liquid is moving fast so you take off your Red Bull shirt—haha, you’re resigning anyways—leaving you in only your sleeveless undershirt. You throw it on the floor. Then, you crouch down and hurriedly wipe the beer.

Crisis averted! Beer - 0. You - 1. You pick up the call after, already knowing it's from Max even without reading the caller ID because you have set a separate ringtone for him, using that catchy Super Max sound, “Hello, [Name] here. Anythin’ I could help?”

Daniel’s voice is not something you have expected to hear, not from Max’s phone anyway, but then again, they should be together right now at the afterparty, “Hi [Name], we kind of got ourselves stuck in a situation here.”

Your brows furrow, forehead creasing, “Danny? Somethin’ wrong?”

“It's Max.”

You stiffen before slowly rising to a stand. Your head begins running at a speed of 300 kilometers per hour, the pace of a Formula One car, coming up with different scenarios where Max is in danger and a list of things you can do to get him out of those situations, “What's wrong with Max?”

That's how you found yourself in the middle of the Red Bull afterparty, navigating through the sweaty and drunk Red Bull employees with your eyes actively searching for a tall, broad-shouldered, blond-brown-haired, blue-eyed Dutchman. You find him nearly ten minutes after entering the party, in a corner, on the floor, next to a yellow puddle of disgusting liquid with his head hanging low and the two Alpha Tauri drivers, Daniel and Yuki, standing right beside him. Thank God they did not leave Max.

The fact that they are in a party full of Red Bull employees and none even tried to help Max bothers you greatly. Jesus, what is wrong with these people? You lower yourself in front of him, hand coming up to his nape while the other is on his forearm before gently guiding him away from the vomit pool just in case he accidentally touches on it. If he did, you know you're the one who’s going to clean him up and frankly, you aren't in the mood for dealing with that. Max follow your hands like it's second nature for him to follow your guidance, leaning into the warmth of your palm.

“What happened?” you finally voice the question you've been dying to ask once Max is a good distance away from the pool of vomit. Daniel is the one who answers you, “He asked for you.”

That doesn't answer your question. Thankfully, Yuki decides to be more helpful, “He broke up with Kelly this morning.”

Oh.

He raced while shouldering a broken heart and still won? Poor Max. But also, you are not surprised. Not even a bit. It's very much like him to prioritize the race over his feelings because Max Verstappen only wants one thing in the world and that is to emerge victorious at the sport he loved. To prove to the world that he is top one, to prove to Jos Verstappen that he is top one and that he will go down in history as top one and the world shall remember it even after he leaves the F1 racing scene for the young ones.

“Thanks, Yuki,” you turn to Daniel and nod. “Danny, I’ll take it from here.”

“Are you sure you don't need help?”

You shake your head and offer a tight-lipped smile. Dealing with a drunk Max is no biggie. You have worked with the guy for five years already, four as his manager. That's over a hundred podiums and defeats and in each defeat and each podium, alcohol and Max become the best of friends. You’re used to this; cleaning him up, picking him up, tucking him into bed, calling his girlfriend to deal with his drunk ass, and helping him nurse the hangover in the morning with an Advil and a good breakfast.

You roll the sleeves of your champagne-colored button-up to your elbows and in one swift motion, you lift Max in a fireman’s carry. That volunteer work you did at LAFD back when you're still in university paid off in these moments.

It was a comedic sight. A 5’5” woman in heels carrying an almost six foot drunk racer who is at least two times broader than her on her shoulders. The media has already caught a picture of a similar-looking moment one time in 2019 and another in 2021—such times are the beginning of those annoying dating rumors that involves you and Max—and you can say that Twitter is mostly impressed that the Red Bull manager was strong enough to lift a high-performance athlete. Some made memes of it. You'll never admit that you saved some of them, especially the ones that made fun of Max so you could put it above his head. Some even claimed that your YSL heels must be some sort of superhero power up because you do a lot of athletic things in those heels like running through the paddock as if you were just wearing a pair of Nikes, kicking a door down, driving a motorcycle around in Monza to buy Max's morning coffee, and getting in a physical fight with Max’s anti-fan back in 2022. In theory, you can and will absolutely kill a god in those heels and honestly, it's about time YSL sponsors you because you're giving their Opyum heels so much promotion.

What the public doesn't know is that Max is lighter than he looks and paired with your capability of lifting heavy equipment and people due to your history as a volunteer firefighter, it is incredibly easy to lift him without breaking a sweat and yes, even while wearing heels. People are too easily impressed nowadays.

You ignore the confused stares that are sent your way as you hurriedly walk to the comfort rooms. In a matter of seconds, you are power-walking yourself inside the male comfort room, sending an unimpressed look at the two Red Bull rookie employees making out inside. They are horrified when they see you. You can tell with the way their eyes widened and how they scrambled away from each other and hurriedly fixed themselves while muttering a thousand apologies. You don't even need to say anything. They are out before you could even tell them to.

You lock the door behind you before heading towards the bathroom sink and placing Max there. You put your hands on the back of his head and shoulders to support him until he's leaning against the mirror and sitting fully upright. You wish he won't topple over and accidentally hit his head on the tiles.

“Hey, hey,” you tap his cheek. “You good, Max?”

You sincerely hope he won't pass out. Unconscious people are heavier than conscious people when you lift them.

Procuring a water bottle inside your tote bag, you hand it to him. He accepts it wordlessly and down it in one go. You pull out an extra shirt from your bag, “Off with the shirt, big boy.”

Obediently, Max does what he is told and he peeled his shirt off him. You have to help him midway because he got it stuck around his neck. You toss the stinky shirt somewhere on the sink and hand him the shirt you brought. Again, you help him put it on because drunk Max has seemingly forgotten where the holes of the t-shirt are and which limb should enter a specific hole. Oh wait, that sounds wrong.

“You're taking good care of me.”

His voice sounds so small when he utters those words that it almost got swallowed up by the silence of the room and the muffled sound of the party outside.

“Aren't I always?”

You are paid to take good care of him after all.

“Always.”

You wet a towel in the sink and squeeze out the excess water in the wool. Your fingers gently cradle Max’s jaw as you wipe his face. He has a little vomit on his cheek.

You're used to looking at Max’s face up close but you still cannot help but be amazed by the beauty of it, you know? Some people will not consider Max as a conventionally beautiful man. Different people have different preferences. Honestly, you used to be one of those people. You met Max when he was twenty-one and that time, he looked like a fetus and greatly resembled Sid the sloth from the Ice Age movies. You used to tease him all the time about it, calling him a kid and pulling the age card when he needed to be reigned in or to annoy him until he submits into obedience, when you are only a year older than him. The stress of racing caused Max to age quickly but thankfully, he does not age badly. No, instead Max transitioned into an absolute daddy. Thank God he is more like his mother than his father, too. His mother’s genes saved him. Thank you Sophie!

You would have fallen for him, too, like the gazillion women all around the world who'll fall at his feet, but it’s hard to do so when you know he doesn't even know how to peel his own oranges. Drives a car going 300 kilometers per hour and can’t even peel a damn orange.

Twitter is always having a field day when they manage to snap a picture of you peeling oranges for him. Orange Peel Theory or whatever that is. Ludicrous bullshit, to be honest. The only theories you know are the ones taught in Physics class.

“I wonder if you know how much I need you,” he mutter. “I wonder if you can tell.”

“Very poetic,” you say flatly because Max has the tendency to say the most out of pocket yet soul breaking things when he's drunk and you are too tired to rationalize all his musings right now. We love a trauma-dumping king.

“You talkin’ ‘bout Kelly?” you ask, brow raising slightly. You continue to clean his face before proceeding to wipe his arms and his hands.

“I don't know.”

“Okay.”

He probably is talking about Kelly anyway.

Now that Kelly is gone, you’re beginning to get worried for Max. Earlier, as you wrote that resignation letter in your hotel room, the worry of leaving Max was not present. He has Kelly after all. Kelly can easily do the things you did for Max, not that she should do the work of a Red Bull manager because honestly, if she plans on taking up your job now, you’ll tell her to run and save herself. You mean the support you gave Max. You mean going all-out in protecting Max whether from haters or even his own father and especially his own darkness. You mean standing with him, inside that open cage that he can walk out of anytime but chose not to because Jos Verstappen still had his claws on him. You mean not leaving Max, no matter where he stood, may it be at the top of that glorious podium or at the end of the line. You mean taking care of Max the same way you did, even if he insists that helping him is nothing but rotten work.

But then, she left. Now what?

“I want to tell you something.”

You lift your eyes and met Max’s glazed blue ones.

“It is in my will that if I die—”

“You're not dyin’," you cut him off, not even the least bit amused about the idea of Max dying.

“Shush,” he playfully glares at you and you roll your eyes, itching to pull that I’m older than you so don't shush me card just to annoy him. “Let me finish. It is in my will that if I die, my cats will be taken care of by you. Oh come on, stop making that face. You look like you're having an aneurysm.”

“Shut up,” you swat his forearm with the damp towel, causing him to laugh at you. “Why’d you even do that? Give them to your Mom or somethin’.”

“But nobody is better at taking care of someone than you,” he says and his voice bled with rawness and honesty and so much sincerity that you're taken aback. “I want someone to take care of them like how you take care of me.”

You blink, mouth slightly agape. What can you even say to that? Thank you? I’m honored? Dude, what the fuck? Are you confessin’ to me or somethin’? You doin’ big shit over there by putting me in your will.

Now, you’re even more worried. Who will take care of Max after you're gone? The same way you took care of him?

Nonetheless, on December 13, you submit the resignation letter to Christian Horner. He reads the letter with a deep frown marring his face. It's funny how he had the same expression on his face, too, on the first day you met him when you were applying from Red Bull.

“Have you told Max?”

The guy is sleeping in his hotel bed as you speak and will probably be awake in a few hours with the world’s shittiest hangover. So no, you have not told him. Not yet, at least.

“No.”

“He wouldn't be happy with this.”

You know Max does not bode well with goodbyes, especially from the people he closely worked with leaving Red Bull. Look at what happened with Danny in 2018. Now, it is your turn. Two of his biggest friends in the Red Bull team, leaving in search of careers outside his shadow. Being in Max's shadow..... They are right after all. It is a curse.

While you love Max, platonically of course, being his manager is not what you wanted. You did not suffer through four years in engineering school just to become an errand girl for a racer. This is not what you applied for when you sent that application letter in Red Bull and Renault back when you were twenty-two. Renault didn't have an opening in their engineering team so your future with that team was quickly erased. Red Bull had no opening in their engineering team either but they had an open spot on the team as Daniel Ricciardo's manager for a whole season. You accepted their offer, naturally, hoping that their engineering team will have a place for you soon. When Danny left, you contemplated following him to Renault.

Then, Max told you to not go to Renault because they're a shitty team and perhaps he was right because in that sucky car they had, Daniel barely won podiums, but if Renault would give you the position you wanted and worth your student loans, then you'd take it.

"No, stay."

Demanding little prickly ass, he was, "I will win next year. When I become a world champion, I'll ask Horner to move you to the engineering team."

You did not know why you believed him.

2021—Max became world champion. You hoped he would ask Horner like he told you back in 2018.

2022—Max became world champion again but you're still stuck as his manager. You reminded him of his declaration in 2018. He told you he was already on it. Two rookie engineers entered the team that year, taking the spot that should have been yours years ago and you were stuck wondering if Max was really putting truth on his words.

2023—Max became a third-time world champion and you wouldn't even ask anymore.

“I know," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "I'll deal with it."

"I'll trust that you'll be the one who'll tell him?"

It amuses you how no one wants to deal with Max or drop him the big news. Everyone knew how crazy he could get when Max does not like something. He's a menace. He'll terrorize everyone. You're the only one who could hold the menace down.

"Of course, Sir. Leave it to me."

“Are you transferring teams? Are you still going to stay in Monaco near Max?”

Monaco is not home. Home is desert and heat. Home is Texas.

“Nah, goin’ back to Austin.”

Everybody knows Texas was your home, your accent and your manners spoke of it. Some Europeans look down on it, calling you a country bum and a cowgirl mascarading as a sophisticated sidehoe of a champion. Fuck 'em all.

“Everyone in the team is given two weeks off now that we’ve won so your resignation is immediately effective of today,” Horner says. “If the US GP is held at Austin next year, make sure to come by. Max would appreciate it.”

Christian Horner is an asshole but he is at least good to Max and that's what's important.

You get a text from Max an hour later.

him: i feel like shit

him: thanks for the advil and the soup

him: also im flying back to monaco tonight, fly with me

Tonight, you're flying to Monaco with Max Verstappen. Seven days from now, you're flying home alone.

[martinluvrr]

CRUSH CRAZY | PAIGE BUECKERS

⋅˚₊‧ paige x fem!physio

⋅˚₊‧ summary: the new physio of the Uconn Wbb has caught the eye of their golden player, but it seems Paige has become a little... crush crazy.

⋅˚₊‧ warnings: hoping none

⋅˚₊‧ duayaps: i hateee thisss but its been sitting in my drafts so i finally finished it 😭

⋅˚₊‧ nav ||

"AND BEFORE YOU TAKE THE PILLS MAKE SURE YOU ATE SOME FOOD" I said to Azzi. It's been about 2 weeks since I started working with her, the Uconn medical staff have been nothing but welcoming.

At first, I didn't know what I was getting myself into, where I come from basketball isn't a big enough thing the way football is ( soccer ). I also didn't spend that much tie on social media, but as soon as I opened tiktok, tons of edits filled my page, most about Uconn and other teams. There were especially edits of Uconn's number five.

Paige Bueckers.

The girl was attractive. And she had the confidence to prove it. Me and Paige had very little contact together , but even if it was for a second, for some odd reason, my stomach was filled with butterflies.

"Thank you again" Azzi's sweet voice said. I turned around to look at the girl, after she underwent surgery for tearing her ACL during practice last November, there was still a little pain in the leg, but nothing that should stop her from rejoining the team in January. Of course, left out from not being in the action.

"No problem and please be careful ,i dont wanna se you anymore, you're boring' I jokingly said to her, she let out a laugh. I heard a chuckle behind me, when I turned, there in all her glory, number five.

"Hi Paige" I muttered, suddenly becoming shy.

"Hey" She said grinning. "Soooooo..."

"Paige" I said sternly, hiding my smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I was just checking up on Azzi" She told me, cracking a small smile at Azzi. I hoped the disappointed wasn't showing in my face, the delusional part in me was hoping she just came to see me.

"Well she's all yours"

✰

"Coach" Nika yelled, suddenly at Geno. "I don't feel so good"

"What happened?" Geno questioned her, making her sit down. She was fine 10 minutes ago.

"I feel like I'm gonna throw up" She said, staring at the ground. Coach felt Paige come beside him. "You okay?" Paige asked, Nika shook her head.

"Maybe we should call Y/N" Paige said, Nika nodded. Geno looked at the both of them, did they hit their head?

"Y/N's a physio, she doesn't deal with stomach problems" He explained, then he heard a cackle come from behind them. KK.

Now he got it, just before Nika came up to him, she was talking with Paige and KK, the three of them whispering amongst one another. Knowing Paige and her little crush, he could figure out that she put Nika up to this.

"Try telling me that again after suicides, maybe i'll believe it then" He said,trying to hide his smile, both Nika and Paige groaned. KK struggled to hide her laugh, scratch that, she didn't even hide it.

"Girl Boo, maybe next time" She said to Paige, laughing.

✰

Practice was over, and everybody was tired. Most of them half a sleep, including Paige. While they were used to their morning practices, Paige had a late night.

"Nah I'm going pick up something from Y/N real quick" She hard Aubrey say. Hearing Y/N name, Paige was awake real quick.

" I'll come with you" She offered, the locker suddenly filled with laughs. Her teammate agreed but not before teasing her with the rest. After getting ready, both of the Uconn basketball players made their way to the medical wing, Paige was nervous, she was always nervous to see Y/N. Suddenly feeling insecure, Paige smelled herself, stressing because she's sweaty. She heard her teammate laugh. "Bro relax" Aubrey reassured her.

When they finally stood in front of Y/N's office door, when Aubrey saw that Paige was still in a bit of a daze, she took the honor of knocking on the office door. When they both heard a sweet voice yelling come in, they followed her orders.

"Oh Hi" I said surprised to see both of them here. Aubrey replied greeting me back, but Paige, just stood there staring at her, grinning like a maniac. "Hi P" I said to her.

"Hey" she replied. Before i could ask what she was doing here, Aubrey caught my attention, asking about her meds and if she could take lighter ones. I replied to all her questions, asking if she was feeling okay or if she needed a checkup. While i talked to Aubrey, i could feel Paige's eyes on me at the side of my head.

As Aubrey left, i expected for Paige to follow her, but the blonde didn't move. "P, do you need something?" i asked her.

"there's this party tonight , you should stop by"

Was Paige inviting you as a date? no.

"Okay, text me the details and i'll think about it" i kinda accepted her invite. Tonight i already made plans with my roommate, i don't think its a good idea to cancel those just because i want to see my crush. I also didn't want my hopes to be up.

While Y/N thought about that, Paige was beaming with excitement on the inside, if Y/N did show up tonight. this was going to be the night where she made her move.

✰

She didn't show, she. didn't. show.

In Y/N's head, she didn't think not being at that party was a big deal. she assumed Paige was just being nice inviting her and she definitely didn't know that P was disappointed.

Today they had normal hard practices, and today was actually the final time Paige tried to get Y/N's attention. no like actually the last time.

As she dribbled the ball, suddenly she dropped the ball, and dramatically fell to the ground. Ice let out a laugh, but while she knew what Paige's plan was, Geno and Y/N didn't.

I gasped, seeing Paige suddenly on the ground, she was fine literally 10seconds ago. Quickly running over, followed by the rest of the coaching staff.

“Can u get up by yourself?”

“I can try”

okay good sign, good sign. it’s not broken.

“To my office” I instructed both Nika and Paige. While holding on to Paige, giving her a bit of support.

When we arrived, I made Paige lay down. And started testing her knee. It seemed fine, actually perfect.

“Maybe we should get another opinion, I don’t think my brains working properly”

I can’t seem to find out whats wrong, she says her knee hurts, but the tests i did make her look perfect.

“Ummm Alright” i heard her hesitate. Her voice slightly nervous.

“Paige”

“Yeah”

“Are you… not injured?”

“Kinda” She answered.

I furrowed my eyebrows, making me think back. Maybe she didn’t want the pressure or she just wanted an excuse out of practice.

“Paige if you are using this to get out of practice well you’ve got another thing comi-”

“Im using this as an excuse to see you” She cut you off.

“What”

“I’ve literally been giving you hints all year and you’re telling me you didnt know i liked you?”

“Well no” I answered honestly. When i finally met her eyes, a small smile took over my face. Her sad face turned hopeful.

“I like you too P” i said “You couldve just asked me out and this wouldn’t have had to happen”

“Don’t even try to turn this on me ma” she started ranting, you just laughed and stood there watching. Okay so you weren’t delusional.

✰

[factcheckingmclennon]

john's princess: fact or fiction

you've read it in fics, you've seen people quote it, but did the apple staff/others REALLY call paul john's princess?

well...

let's dig into it!

this one comes from two asks- one over on my main and one here!

there's actually several sources on this one!

the first one i'll bring up is from francie schwartz. she is, btw, a notoriously terrible source and that's why i'm getting her out of the way first. she like really openly dislikes paul & you should take a lot of what she says with a grain of salt. however, she does call him john's princess.

here's the full page (of many) from her november 1969 piece in rolling stone called "memories of an apple girl"

and the interesting bit in question:

"John and Paul can shoot looks at each other and exchange thoughts. John, full of Da Vinci-esque chutzpah and Lewis Carroll whimsy and Joycean logic, projects authority, sovereignty. Can you dig that Paul is his princess? Paul giggles. John smiles like Oedipus."

the second source is from john lennon: the life by philip norman (2008) where he says this:

"Indeed, John's anger was more that of an ex-spouse than ex-colleague, reinforcing a suspicion already in Yoko's mind that his feelings for Paul had been far more intense than the world at large had ever guessed. From chance remarks he had made, she gathered there had even been a moment when—on the principle that bohemians should try everything—he had contemplated an affair with Paul, but had been deterred by Paul's immovable heterosexuality. Nor, apparently, was Yoko the only one to have picked up on this. Around Apple, in her hearing, Paul would sometimes be called John's Princess."

(pg. 668-69)

and the last one (updated now bc someone did indeed have the screenshot you're a lifesaver i'm kissing your feet etc)

but! here's the quote! from apple insiders:

"With Yoko ever present, Paul McCartney's reign as Lennon's princess was doomed."

apple to the core: the unmaking of the beatles by peter mccabe & robert d. schonfeld (1972) pg. 107

so while none of these Alone would be enough for me to think it was a thing that happened often, i think the second quote from norman saying yoko heard him being called "john's princess" is backed up by francie calling him that herself AND the quote from apple to the core

this is a situation of "a bunch of mediocrely reliable sources coming together to make one big reliable source given their agreement on the same subject"

[boldlyvoid]

Employee of the Month

eddie munson x reader

Summary: To make some extra cash before Christmas, Y/N takes a job stocking the grocery store shelves at midnight, unbeknownst to her that her high school crush also works there

Warnings: mutual pining, partial slow burn, parental death, mentions of Eddie's murder charges (now dropped), being ostracized by the town, teasing, flirting, sick Eddie, hurt/comfort, falling in love, first kiss, first times, virgin Eddie, virgin reader, making out, grinding, dry humping, cumming in pants. they're really horny touch starved adults

word count: 9k

In a last-ditch effort to make some more money this Christmas, she takes a job at the local grocery store to stock the shelves at midnight. It’s not too bad, there are only 16 shelves and about 30 feet of freezer to restock, she gets to bring a walkman and headphones and wear whatever she wants. As long as the shelves look nice come morning, the boss didn’t really care. 

From the first night she worked there she knew it was going to be a good fit, mainly because the other stock person she’s been partnered with is the same guy she had a massive crush on in high school. Eddie Munson had one hell of a year while she was trying to graduate, he was getting accused of murdering her classmates. He disappeared mostly after that, the school gave him a pass and his diploma so they didn’t have to see him again, the town pretended they didn’t try and murder him in revenge for an entire week and she didn’t see him again for a while. 

“Hey,” she waves at him with her lips pressed together in a tight smile, “I’m—

“Y/N,” he points at her name tag with a matching smile. “I take it you’re my new buddy?” 

She nods, “yeah… um, what are we doing tonight?” 

“The snacks and chips aisle, the milk fridge and the cheeses,” he recites the list as he pulls it out of his pocket and hands it to her. 

While she is just in jeans and a sweater, nothing too fancy, he’s in a navy blue jumpsuit with his name embroidered on the left breast, and just under it, the grocery store logo. He was in uniform… “why don’t I have to wear one of those?” 

“Oh, I got this for being the employee of the month,” he shrugs it off, not meaning to brag in the slightest. “You like it?” 

“Yeah,” she smiles like a fool, nodding quickly and looking at the list he handed her to avoid his eye contact. 

She liked him so much in high school, and he was still so cute, it was all coming back to her. He’s much more laid back and reserved now, it has been over a year since she’s seen him in person, too. It made her wonder if he was still that same loud, opinionated nerd that she admired from a distance. 

He’s super nice about teaching her the right way to restock everything, bringing the old stuff to the front and the new things get pushed to the back of each shelf. They split up the aisles and met in the middle, trying to beat each other each time. He sang along to the radio playing over the speakers, and he danced when he thought she wasn’t looking… he was just as cute as he was in high school. 

They end up making a good team, they finish their list and pick up a few extra chores. They change a lightbulb in the guest bathroom, take inventory of the magazines and run disinfectant over every surface they could until their shift ends. It feels like it takes forever, they’re awkward when talking to each other but it’s kinda easy to hang out with him. This was going to be a good job for her. 

“You need a ride home?” He asks in the staff room after work, both of them putting on their coats and scarves. The November chill in Hawkins was not nice. 

She shakes her head and starts to point, “no, I just live—

“You can’t walk home in the middle of the night,” he cuts her off. “There’s too many creeps and animals out there. I don’t mind where it is?” 

“Okay,” she gives in easily. 

She gives him her address as they walk out to his van, he opens the door for her and lets her hop in before closing it for her too. He asks her about how long she’s lived there, trying his best to make conversation but it hurts. 

“Uh, we’ve always lived in Hawkins, my house is still a mess from the earthquake but the insurance is fixing it soon,” she assures, nervous for him to see the state of the place when he pulls up. “If my dad was still here he’d probably have it done by now, but it’s just me and my mom.” 

“God, I’m sorry,” he felt so bad for asking. “That was the worst fucking week ever.” 

“yeah… it sucked for everyone,” she doesn’t even know how to touch upon what he went through. “Glad it’s over.” 

“More than you know,” he sighs, turning onto her road finally. 

He doesn’t want to come in for coffee or anything, he gives her a smile and a wave and watches to make sure she gets inside her house safely before driving away. 

She thinks about him well into the morning when she should be sleeping. It’s easy to get sucked into an imaginary life where he asks her out after a shift and they hang out and fall in love and she finally gets to kiss that smile off his beautiful face… it’s not easy to make it come true. She would go to her grave with the fact she thinks he’s handsome and nice and funny and cute. She’s not big on sharing feelings, having no one to ever really share them with, in the first place. 

—

She doesn’t see him unless she’s working, which was only 3 nights a week, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. 

She uses those 3 nights wisely. She wears something nice but not too suspicious, and she always smells nice and does the best she can with her hair and makeup… she wants him to think she’s pretty. She wants to catch him staring at her instead of how many times he caught her looking at him as a teenager. 

He tells her that she looks nice every day in many different ways. 

“Did you come straight from the ball, princess?” 

“You know this is a grocery store, not a fashion show, right?” 

And her personal favourite… “It's too cold out there for you to come in looking so hot.” With a wink. A fucking wink. It almost made her pass out. 

He does it just to bug her, he likes to make her squirm and lose every thought in her head. He laughs when she stutters through a response and he always pats her shoulder gently and says, “I just mean you look nice today.” 

She has a hard time reaching the top shelves sometimes and he has no problem coming over and standing real close to her. “Here, I got that,” he says in such a low voice it felt like a whisper. He reaches up and takes everything down for her, “do you want me to put them up for you too?” 

“Sure,” she doesn’t mind, she works on the second highest shelf instead, still close to him, she watches him reach and extend his long arms and puff out his chest and ugh he’s so hot it makes her stare like an idiot. 

“You’re drooling,” he teases her. 

She wipes her face quickly, “what? No, shut up.” 

He just giggles and finishes shoving the new stock toward the back of the shelf. She bumps shoulders with him right before he heads back to his stack of things, he had boxes of croutons to unpack. She was now moving on to salad dressings and other condiments. 

She doesn’t dare start up any conversations, overthinking everything that comes into her head too much. She didn’t feel like he’d find anything she had to say interesting. 

They’re in the soup aisle when he finally speaks again. “Can I ask you something?”

She’s a bit shocked cause he’s been silent for so long, but she nods. 

“When you dream is there ever a specific topic you dream about the most?” 

“Tornados,” she can answer without batting an eye. “I had one the other night actually… I don’t know why but there’s always a tornado.” 

“That is an interesting one… did you just watch a lot of the wizard of oz growing up?” He teases. 

She can’t help but smile, “no, I’ve actually never watched it.” 

“You get more interesting every time you talk,” he means it as a compliment. 

“Yeah? Well, why’d you even ask about dreams? Do you have a good one?”  She turns the conversation back to him, taking a handful of soups and shoving them into the shelf. 

“I keep having dreams in high school where I’m failing again and none of the teachers will pass me,” he explains. “And I had one last night cause I guess seeing you again so much is reminding me of being back in school.” 

“Wait,” she turns to him full of shock and awe, “you remember me?” 

“Of course,” he doesn't see it as a big deal. “Your lunch table was beside ours, I saw you every day?” 

He saw me looking at him often… 

She wants to turn inside out with embarrassment. “Oh, I uh, I didn’t think you paid attention to that.” 

“How could I not? You always reacted the best when I did something stupid,” he reminisces, stepping in closer to her. “And I remember your laugh was cute.” 

She’s too nervous to even giggle awkwardly, he’s in her personal space and he smells good and his eyes are so inviting, “thanks…” all the air in her chest leaves as she melts in front of him. 

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t do all that shit just for your attention,” he admits, licking his lips as he stares at hers. 

It’s like time stops, her brain can’t process all the information so she just blinks a few times and stares back at him with a furrowed brow. “Really?” 

He nods with a laugh, pulling away and returning to the stack of boxes they had to put away. “Yeah, I uh, I should probably feel a little stupid telling you this now after all this time, but uh, you bring the stupid out of me… I kinda had a huge crush on you back then.” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah, you,” he teases. “You act like thats a total surprise? You’re so pretty and you were never mean to me, it was bound to happen.” 

She’s completely dumbfounded, “oh… that’s— I’m nice to everyone? At least I try to be.” 

But then she realizes what he really said, he used to have a crush on her, but that’s long gone. He wouldn’t tell her if he still had one, would he? Guys weren’t that open about feelings, it was always a game with them… right? 

“Sorry,” he realizes he fucked up by telling her. “I didn’t want to make things awkward between us.”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s just weird for me. I’ve never been told straight up that someone had a crush on me,” she’s really taken aback. “Thanks… really.” 

“Anytime,” he blushes slightly, dropping it there.

He drives her home again like he does every night that she works cause he really can’t stand the idea of her walking home past midnight as the temperature drops. He has tried to offer to pick her up beforehand, but she doesn’t want to put him out, and her mom doesn’t mind dropping her off every night… but he asks again, anyway. 

Parked outside of her house, he turns to her. “Can I please come pick you up before your next shift?” He all but begs. 

“I guess,” she gives in, “why?” 

He shrugs, “I like spending time with you.” 

“Then why don’t you ever want to come in for a coffee?” She combats, really wanting him to come in. “I also have tea and hot chocolate…” 

“Okay,” he gives in right back. “I’ll come in with you, tonight.” 

“Really?” She lights right up and throws off her seatbelt, reaching for the door. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” He panics, rushing out first and coming around to her side to open it up for her, “you’re gonna make me look bad, walking you to the front door and not getting the door for you is a crime.” 

“If you say so,” she laughs at him as she hops out beside him. 

He slams her door closed and with a hand on her back, he leads her toward the front door. “You sure you’re mom's okay with me being in her house?” 

“Yeah, why not?” She honestly forgets. 

“Well, I’m me?” He awkwardly laughs, feeling incredibly nervous about his reputation. “It’s honestly why I’ve not said yes yet, I don’t know who hates me still…” 

“Oh god, no, she doesn’t hate you, she doesn’t hate anyone,” she puts up both hands in a sort of surrender that made him smile. She meant it. “She’s also asleep so you won’t have to talk to her at all.” 

“Okay,” he assures her, rubbing his hand over her shoulder with a smile. 

Every time he looks at her like that she wants to melt right into him, to swim around in the chocolate pools of his eyes for hours on end. He’s so beautiful, she’s never going to get over it. 

He leans in closer, looking at her through his lashes, “Are we going inside soon, it’s cold out here?” 

“Sure, yeah,” she remembers what they were doing, digging her keys out of her pocket. She unlocks the door and pushes it open, slipping in first and letting him follow. 

Inside he kicks off his shoes and hangs up his jacket beside hers before following her all the way into the kitchen. He’s as quiet as a mouse, respecting that her mom is asleep somewhere in the house. 

“So what’ll it be?” She asks, opening up the fridge to take a look while he sits down at the kitchen counter. 

“Oh, I’m good, I just wanted to come in with you,” he admits but by the look on her face, she doesn’t believe him. “Seriously, I’m just going to go home and sleep anyway, it’s fine.” 

“You’ve gotta have something… come on?” She stares him down, “Pepsi? Ginger ale? Water? What about a snack?” 

“I’m fine,” he means it. “What do you normally have when you come home?” 

“It’s always different, sometimes my mom makes something for us for dinner and other nights I just have like a pop tart,” she shares, opening the cupboard and taking out a box. 

“I could actually go for a pop tart,” he admits, eyes up the box in her hands. 

She laughs and opens up one of the silver, crinkly packets and hands him one. He takes a big bite and dramatically throws his head back with a groan, “fuck, I forgot how good these are.”

“And you would’ve kept forgetting if you didn’t come in with me, so I guess you have to from now on,” she teases, feeling a lot more confident with him suddenly… she felt like things could be fun between them. If he wasn’t going to fall in love with her, she might as well try for being his best friend. 

“You’re too cute to say no to,” he can’t help but smile at her. 

“Again, you’re the only one to think so,” she rolls her eyes, not believing him. He was just a flirt, it wasn’t the truth… right?

“More for me, then,” he shrugs, taking another bite from his pop tart and dropping it there. 

—

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride?” Her mom asks from the kitchen. 

“I’m fine,” she calls back, staring out the front window, watching the street for Eddie’s van. “My co-worker offered to pick me up.” 

“Oh, which one?” 

“Um, Eddie…” she turns around slowly to see her mom standing in the doorway now. “Eddie Munson.” 

“Oh,” she is a little shocked to hear that name after so long. “I didn’t know he was still in Hawkins?” 

“He works nights so no one has to see him,” she explains, “cause people are mean… he was really scared to come in last night after work cause he didn’t want to upset you by coming into your house.” 

“Poor boy,” she feels so bad, never wanting her home to strike fear in someone. “I knew you wouldn’t have a crush on a monster, and the police cleared him, this town owes him an apology too.” 

“I know,” she agrees but she doubts it’ll ever happen. 

Sometime during their chat, Eddie pulled up outside and made his way to her front door where he laid a few knocks. She opens the door with a huge smile, “hi, sorry you didn’t have to come all the way to the door.” 

“I wanted to,” he assures her, seeing her mom peeking over her shoulder. “Hi, Mrs. Y/L/N.” 

“Hello,” she gives him a little wave. “Have fun at work you two, I’ll see you, tomorrow sweetheart.” 

“Bye mom,” she slips outside with Eddie, knowing her mom was going to watch them walk back to his van. 

He extends his hand and holds hers as they walk down the few steps of her porch, he drops her hand only to place it on her back as he leads her toward the passenger door. He opens for her, like always. He runs around the van, sends a wave to her mom at the door and then hops inside, “ready?” 

“Ready,” she can’t bite back her smile anymore, she was so giddy about holding his hand that it made her feel like a little girl again. 

He pauses for a moment and looks her up and down, “did you get all dolled up 'cause I’m driving you?” 

She tilts her head to the side, annoyed cause he always asks, “I always look like this.” 

“Beautiful, you mean?” 

She walked right into that one. 

“Fine, I’ll let you have it this time,” she gives in. 

“Good,” he throws the van in drive and heads out of her little neighbourhood towards town. 

He’s quiet for a bit, she looks around at the street lights and the businesses still open, as well as all the houses with their Christmas lights up already. “I miss it was still kinda sunny out at 8pm,” she sighs, staring out the window at the full moon rising over Hawkins. 

“I like the dark,” he shares. “Less people are out.” 

“Why don’t you move? Not that I want you to leave, but wouldn’t it be more freeing to have no one know who you are? You deserve a real life,” she lets her feelings fall right out. “You’re not a bad person, you never have been.” 

“Thanks,” he reaches out his hand and rests it on her thigh. “But it’s ‘cause everyone I love is here, I can’t leave.” 

“Right, so are you still in your band then?” 

He lets out a very surprised chuckle, “yeah, I still have my band, we still play Tuesday nights, it's the only night I don’t work.” 

She wouldn’t know that cause she didn’t work that night either, “I’ll have to come see you play sometime, I don’t have any classes that night.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know you were in school still?” 

“Community college,” she doesn’t feel so ashamed telling him. “Most my friends went off to real schools but it’s the only place I could go to for free, so.” 

“Hey, at least you got in,” he celebrates the bare minimum. “I couldn’t even dream of it with my GPA. I was thinking I’d wait a few years and get some kind of degree when I’m considered a mature student, and when people forget about me.” 

She wants to tell him that she’ll never forget about him, she never did. She thought about him all the time. She couldn’t hear Metallica on the radio without thinking about him. Every jean jacket patch made her think about him. She took a double take when she saw a man with long hair hoping it was him. She thought about him before she went to bed, in her dreams and as soon as her eyes opened in the morning. 

She was completely in love with him. 

—

She was only going to work for the holidays, and now that Christmas was only a few days away, she was worried that she only has a few more weeks left with Eddie. And for some reason that makes her want to get him a Christmas present, almost as a way to buy a place in his heart so he doesn’t forget about her when she’s not his buddy anymore. 

And then he doesn’t show up for work… she’s been waiting to see him all week, and he’s a no-show.

So she asks her shift manager who says Eddie called out earlier in the day really, really sick. It makes her heart hurt knowing he wasn’t feeling good. 

So she pushes through her shift. It’s weird without him, but she does it. She walks home for the first time and it’s a lot colder than she expected. The wind on her face and the snow in her hair, melt as the heat from her body escapes from her head. She gets home finally and she’s shivering, she wants to wrap herself up in a blanket and sleep for days, instead goes right to the kitchen. She searches through her cupboards for a couple cans of chicken noodle soup and some crackers, she grabs a few cans of ginger ale and takes her mom's keys. There’s no way she’s going back out there 

She drives right into the trailer park and follows the road slowly, scanning the driveways for eddies van until she finally finds it. She parks outside the blue and white trailer and carefully heads towards his door, not wanting to slip with a handful of cans. 

She knocks carefully, the lights are all still on so it’s not like she’s waking him up… and then another man she doesn’t know answers. “Yes?” 

“Hi, I’m so sorry but is this Eddie’s trailer?” She panics. 

“It is.” 

“I brought him some soup, I heard he was sick and that’s why he couldn’t make it to work tonight…” 

“Oh, that’s sweet, come on in out of the cold,” he ushers her right inside the tiny trailer. “Sorry for the mess, we’ve both been battling this random cold, I got it at the plant and he finally got it from me yesterday.” 

“Oh no, I’m sorry,” she sympathizes as she lays everything down on his kitchen counter. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

“Wayne, Eddies uncle,” he introduces himself. “He’s talked a lot about you, I was wondering when I’d get to meet ya.” 

“Oh, really?” She can’t believe it. 

“yeah… you know, I can put that soup on, you can go down the hall there and see him, he’s just reading in bed, I think?” He points. 

“Oh, okay sure,” she doesn’t mind, she was honestly expecting Eddie to live alone and have an empty kitchen, not an uncle who loved him dearly there to take care of him. 

She shrugs off her coat and takes off her boots first and then she heads down the hallways carefully, she knocks on his closed door, waiting for the all-clear to enter… and his “yeah?” Comes out so sad and sickly that it makes her heart hurt. 

She pushes the door open carefully, “hey… I heard you were sick?” 

“Y/N?” He sits right up, fixing his hair and wiping his nose. “I didn’t think you knew where I lived?” 

“I just looked for the van, I think everyone knows you live in the trailer park,” she realizes how weird that sounds. 

“True, still I can’t believe you’re here?” 

She comes in and takes a seat on the edge of his bed, putting out her hand to hold the back of it to his forehead, “you’re all fevered, oh no… have you taken anything?” 

He nods, “yeah, some Buckleys…” 

“I brought you some soup, Wayne’s heating it up for you,” she explains with a soft smile. “He’s sweet.” 

“Where’d you think I got my charm from?” He teases, still well enough to try and make her smile. 

She brushes his hair off his face gently, “I’m glad you have him to take care of you.” 

“I’d much prefer you as my nurse… would you give me a sponge bath?” 

“No,” she holds back her laugh and just shakes her head with a smile. “But nice try.” 

“Damn,” he sighs, tossing his head back against the pillow and closing his eyes. Turning on the dramatics, he looks at her with the sweetest puppy dog eyes, “will you at least keep me company while I have my soup?” 

“Of course,” she planned to stay as long as he needed her. “I just have to bring my mom's car back before 8am cause she needs to go to work.” 

“I promise I won’t keep you long,” he reaches out for her hand, holding them with both of his own. “I really appreciate you coming to check on me… and might I say you look very cute today, I’m glad I didn’t miss this one.” 

She melts at his words, “you must not be too sick if you’re still trying to flirt with me.” 

“I’m going to remind you that you’re beautiful until the day I die,” he’s very stern about that. 

“Yeah, like you’ll know me that long,” she plays it off. 

He gives her hands a little squeeze, “I like to think I will… I might just be high on cough syrup, but I like to think I’ll find you in every life I lead, you’re so special to me, Y/N.” 

“You’re definitely high,” she teases, leaning in forward to kiss his forehead as she stands up. “I’m going to check on your soup… you sober up by the time I get back.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he agrees but doesn’t drop her hands, he holds on as long as he can and then she slips away from him. 

Wayne’s just putting the soup in a bowl as she walks back into the kitchen, she grabs a sleeve of soup crackers and a ginger ale, it's plated and then Wayne turns to her. 

“You know he’s not kidding, right?” 

“What?” 

“He wouldn’t lie,” Wayne gives her those honest Munson eyes that she loves so much in his nephew. “And clearly you feel the same if you’ve come all the way out here at half midnight to make him soup.” 

She feels the colour leave her face as she’s caught red-handed, she was doing this because she loved him so dearly she couldn’t stand spending a shift without seeing him. She wanted to always take care of him. She loved him. It was as simple as that. She just loves him. 

“Life’s too short to not tell each other,” he adds some last words of wisdom and hands her the tray of her lover's dinner. 

She’s extra quiet when she brings him his dinner, and when she sits on the end of his bed to accompany him while he eats. He has a book resting face down, cracked open to keep its page, resting beside him. She reaches for it, checking the cover, it’s the fellowship of the ring. 

“I’ve never read The Lord of the Rings, is it good?” 

“It’s the best book series there is,” he assures her while taking another spoonful of soup. 

She keeps her thumb where Eddie was reading but skips back to the first few pages, reading it over quietly to see if she’d like it at all… it’s cute. “You can read it from the beginning if you want?” 

“Out loud?” She wonders if he’d want to hear that too. 

“As if you could get any better,” he manages to smile no matter how sick he feels. “Please, I’d really love that.” 

“Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie. One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.”

He basks in the way her voice sounds alongside his favourite book, words he’s read so many times and heard in his own voice now being retold in hers. He listens ever so intently, enjoying it more than she’d ever know as she watches the page, trying her hardest not to stutter and to pronounce all the words right so he didn’t laugh at her… but even when she gets stuck he just affectionately corrects her and admires her as she continues. 

She makes it through the prologue and the facts about hobbits and pipeweed and the shire by the time he’s done eating. He has enough energy to take his dishes out to the kitchen himself and returns with a smile. She made her way up to the pillows beside him and slipped under the covers so he could get in beside her, “come on, I’m reading you a chapter or two and then I’ve gotta go home.” 

“Right,” he gets into the bed beside her and snuggles right up to her, he wraps himself around her arm with his cheek on her shoulder so he can watch the page as she reads on through chapter one. 

He falls asleep like that, with a warm belly full of soup and a heart full of love, it pains her to get up and possibly disrupt him. 

She does get up, slowly but surely, replacing herself with a pillow that he snuggles up to instead. She kisses him on the forehead, he’s not as fevered as before, hopefully he felt better tomorrow. She takes a look around for a scrap piece of paper, finding one on his dresser with a sharpie marker. She leaves her phone number and a little note. 

Call me tomorrow, I want to know if you’re feeling better. Hopefully we can finish this sometime. 

xx Y/N

She slips it into the book and leaves it on his night table and then she’s off. She says goodbye to Wayne who’s still awake because if he sleeps he’ll throw off his schedule when he goes back to work. He also did night shifts, so he wouldn’t be there next time she comes over after work… that’s good to know. 

—

He takes the whole weekend off and it sucks, but she understands he needs the time to get better. He calls her to let her know that decision around 2pm on Saturday and they stay on the phone all the way up until she has to get ready for work. 

Waynes gone back to work, leaving him completely alone in the trailer after they hang up the phone… and all he can think about is how she’s going to have to walk home again. It rattles around his brain most of the night, he paces the trailer, feeling like shit but his love for her is eating him alive and it hurts more than his congested nose. At 11:52 he finally says fuck it. 

In his pyjamas and all, he throws on a coat and slips his feet into his boots, he snags his keys off the wall and he’s gone. He books it out of the trailer park, watching the clock on his dash to ensure midnight doesn’t sneak up on him. The streets are empty, so he doesn’t worry about racing through the yellow lights on his way to the store. 

He pulls up with just a few minutes to spare, his heart racing, he just parks at the curb by the employee's only back door and he waits for her. He reaches over to the passenger door to roll down the window, wanting her to be able to see him… as if she wouldn’t notice that it’s his van. She knew his van. 

She knew him. 

And she liked him. 

The heavy door slowly opens and he sees her, laughing with their co-worker as she buttons up the last few buttons on her jacket. She’s bundled up in a scarf and she has a hat on today, she planned to be warmer on tonight's walk home.  

“Eddie?” She lights right up. “What are you doing here.” 

“I may be on my death bed but I’m not letting you walk home in the dark, princess,” he assures her, pushing the door open so she can get in. 

She waves goodbye to their co-worker, finishing their conversation before she hops in the van and closes the door. She rolls the window back up. “Burr, you’re you’re going to get sicker with this open.” 

“I hope you don’t find it weird that I’m here?” He worries, “seriously, after everything that happened here, walking home alone at midnight isn’t smart… it killed me that you walked home yesterday and then still came to see me.” 

“I know, it’s okay,” she reaches out to hold his gently in hers. “You can pick me up and drive me home all the time if it makes you feel better?” 

“You’ve gotta want to spend time with me too,” he places his other hand on top of hers. “Don’t feel like you have to be nice to me, little miss I’m nice to everyone.” 

“I am,” she feels offended. “I know you’re not stupid, you’ve gotta see I love spending time with you.” 

“I like to hear you say it, sue me,” he smiles, his eyes flicking back and forth between her eyes and her lips. He’s so close to her already that he could kiss her. 

But then he’d get her sick. 

So he pulls back a bit and pats her hand as her grip loosens. “Let’s get you home.” 

“Yeah,” she settles into her seat and puts on her seatbelt, he waits for the click and then he’s off, taking the familiar route back to her place. 

He asks her about her day, what they did, and how they’re doing without him. She missed him, he can tell by the way she complains about being partnered with someone new. “They didn’t do anything the way you do, it felt so wrong.” 

She thinks I do things the right way…

His heart soars the whole ride and then it ends too soon. He parks at the curb with a sigh, “I’m going to be up for a bit if you want to call me?” 

“You don’t want to come in?” 

He shakes his head, “I can’t get my germs all over your place.” 

“Right, no I get it,” she understands, but she lingers. He stares at him for a sec, “walk me to my door at least?” 

“Sure,” he can’t say no to her. 

She stays put this time, he runs around to her door and opens it, expecting her to jump right out but she pulls him close, using her height in the seat to her advantage. She touches his forehead gently, “you’re not fevered today, that’s good at least… I’d hate to miss another week with you.” 

“I’ll come get you tomorrow, but I’m not working,” he compromises, knowing he hates not getting to see her too. 

She hops out of the van and takes his hand on the way up to her door, “I could get used to this treatment.” 

“You should,” he agrees. “Cause I’m not giving up.” 

In sickness and in health and all that jazz… he’d be there through it all if she wanted him. 

At her door, she gives him those same eyes as in the van, and he wants to kiss her so goddamn bad but he can’t. He simply pulls her into a hug and holds her tight, cheek pressed to the top of her head. She holds him around the middle just as tightly, it's a beautiful goodbye for a couple of friends. 

—

He comes to pick her up for her next shift once again, only this time he pulls her into a hug at the door and kisses the top of her head, “hey, sweetheart, ready for work?” 

She can only nod against him, soaking in the hug as long as she can get. “What was that for?” She asks as he pulls back. 

He shrugs, “just cause… I missed you, I guess.” 

“I missed you, too,” she wraps her arm around his middle and holds him close as she joins him on the walk back to his van. “Which is funny 'cause we’ve been talking more than ever, lately.” 

“I know,” he loved it and it was evident in his voice. 

Every night that she’s not working they talk on the phone, from the time she’s done with her classwork until he has to leave for his night shifts. It was a lovely little tradition now, he loved to learn about all her projects and reports, and he even let her read things over for his opinion. More than once he’s called her a genius, but the best thing he’s ever said to her was “your future kiddos are going to love you.” In regard to the class of students, she was going to teach one day. 

It’s a day like any other, they have little conversations on their way to work, clock in together and head right to the first aisle on their to-do list. He dances around to the music, they toss things at each other, he makes dirty jokes, and she shakes her head with so much love you could see hearts float around her head. It’s so completely normal. 

And then she almost drops a whole shelf on herself, he’s quick to swoop in and catch it for her. They put it back in place and carefully let it go, making sure it stays put before she turns to thank him… only he’s about an inch, maybe two from her face. 

“That was a close one,” he whispers, staring at her lips. “Would hate to lose you to the soup aisle.” 

She can’t help staring back at his lips, wanting to kiss him so goddamn bad she forgets how to breathe for a moment. It’s like time stops while she stares at him and he stares back. 

“I’d hate to lose you at all…” 

“Why?” Even she’s surprised to hear it come out of her. 

He doesn’t say anything, he simply leans in more, and so does she. Meeting him halfway, their lips touch slowly and then all at once. A hand of his cups her face, holding her in place while she holds his sides, pulling him closer so their chests are pressed together. 

Breathing each other in deeply, she feels her soul intertwine with his at that moment. Everything makes sense. She was supposed to take this little job and spend all this time with him for this moment right here. It was always supposed to happen. 

They were meant to happen. 

They pull away with a matching smile, giggling as they come to terms with the fact that just happened… it finally happened. 

“You understand what I mean, right?” He teases. 

She nods, “yeah… I get it, but could you say it just one more time?” 

“Here?” He teases, kissing her cheek. “Or here?” He kisses her jaw next and moves towards her ear, “I could say it all over you if you let me.” 

“We’re still at work,” she reminds him, pushing him away slightly before he could kiss her neck and start something he couldn’t finish in the freaking soup aisle. 

“Do you want to come over later? To kiss a bit and read more lord of the rings?” He offers, making it sound a lot more innocent than either of them wanted it to be. 

“Only if you read the chapter this time,” she teases, heart racing in her chest at the prospect of being alone with him. 

Him. 

The one and the only crush she’s had for the last 6 years of her life. 

He flirts with her more than ever after that, he steals kisses every time he passes her and even serenades the love songs on the speaker to her. She pokes his sides when she passes by him, learning that he’s ticklish and he yelps every time she does it. 

In his van on the way home, after not being able to keep their hands off each other most of the night, they have to so he can focus on the road. 

“Does this make us more than friends?” She wonders aloud, hoping he had the same worry. 

He nods, “I’d hope so… but if you want me to ask, I can?” 

He holds her hand in the middle of the centre console again, rubbing his thumb over her hand gently. 

“What if I want to do it?” She teases. “I want to make you my boyfriend, I’ve thought about it for years.” 

“That’s crazy,” he can’t believe it, shaking his head as he drives a bit faster, wanting to be home with her so bad. 

“Why?” She sounds so defeated. 

“I never thought you liked me, I thought you were just really smiley… you could’ve been mine this whole time,” he explains just how crazy it was for him. In a very good way. 

“I can’t even imagine having a boyfriend in high school,” she admits. 

He slows down when he enters the trailer park, follows the poorly plowed path towards his own trailer and parks. Finally turning to her again with a smile, “I’ve never had a girlfriend before either, it’s all really new to me too.” 

“Was that your first kiss too?” She whispers, scared that it wasn’t. 

She was right. 

He shakes his head, “Cheryl Lenetti in grade 7… she liked to pet my head when we made out, she said my hair felt like a seal pup when it was shaved. So fuckin weird.” 

It makes her laugh a bit, “I can’t imagine it short…” 

“I’ve got pictures,” he assures her, “Wayne’s kept all my life well documented. He likes to tease me and say that he’ll sell the embarrassing ones to the tabloids when my band blows up.” 

“I need to see them,” she agrees and lets go of his hand finally, reaching for her door but once again, Eddie rushes out to beat her to it like a bat out of hell. 

She shakes her head with an affectionate smile, taking his hand again once outside and carefully treating through the lightly shovelled snow leading up to his trailer. He helps her out of her coat and hangs it up for her, leaving her to kick off her boots and awkwardly stand in his main room. It’s a lot more put together than the last time he visited. like he planned to invite her over, so it was clean this time. 

“You want anything to eat?” 

She shakes her head, “no… honestly I’m too nervous to eat anything right now.” 

“Oh, why?” He moves into her space, hands on her shoulders, slipping down her arms while pulling her in closer. 

“You’re handsome and you want to kiss me and I have no idea what I’m doing and— and,” she stops with a sigh and a shrug. 

“You’re so fucking cute,” he says with so much affection his smile makes his cheeks hurt. His eyes glisten back at her, and he shakes his head ever so slightly, amazed that she likes him back this much. “You don’t need to be nervous, there’s nothing you could do that would make me stop liking you at this point.” 

She takes the plunge this time, she presses her lips against his, holding his waist she wraps her arms around his back and holds him there. He’s shocked at first and then he settles, hand coming up to cup her face as he kisses back. She’s not completely sure what she’s doing, but she’s seen enough movies to imitate what she’s seen. He smiles into the 4th or 5th peck she presses to his lips and pulls back. 

“Do you want to go sit down?” 

“Like in your room?” 

“If you want?” 

She nods, cautious as ever but she wants to spend the whole night kissing him. He walks her down the hallway, into his dark room where he flicks on his side table lamp to show off his perfectly made bed and clean-ish room. “Welcome back,” he teases. 

“You planned this,” she calls him out. “Did you know you were going to kiss me at work today?”

“Not at all,” he assures her, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. Legs spread so she could stand between them, and she brushes her hands through his hair while he looks up at her. “I was going to ask you to come over, yeah, but kissing you was a surprise to me too… I like you so much it’s fucking crazy.” 

“I like you just as much,” she leans in, bumping their noses together with a smile. “You want to teach me how to make out?” 

He laughs, scooting up to the head of the bed, resting against the headrest, “you want to lie down or sit in my lap, or what?” 

“Um,” she bites her lip, deciding to be daring, she kneels on the bed and straddles his lap. “This is good, right?” 

“Absolutely,” he rests his hands on her hips, smoothing his thumbs over the fabric of her pants. “I just want you to be comfortable, princess.” 

She rests her forearms on his shoulders, hands in his hair, and she brushes his bangs out of his face to get a good look in his eyes. His big beautiful chocolate brown eyes that she loves so fucking much. “You’re so pretty,” she whispers. “Has anyone ever told you that?” 

He shakes his head lightly, “no…”

“There,” she smiles. “You get my first kiss and I get to tell you how pretty you are—

“You can have all my other firsts too,” he whispers, selling his soul to her in the way he stares at her. She knows he’s giving all of himself to her at that moment. “You can have all of me.” 

“I— I uh, I think we can start with kissing,” she frightens right up again. 

“Sorry,” he runs his hands up her back gently, “I’m not expecting anything… I just wanted you to know there’s a lot I haven’t done with anyone either, I’m just as new to this. We’re on the same level.” 

“Not yet,” she finally leans in for another kiss, holding his face in her hands to keep herself steady more than anything.

He licks at her bottom lip, it’s strange but she follows his lead, coming back in with an open mouth their tongues touch for a moment and then he sucks on her tongue. Again and again, they both come back in, exploring each other's mouths while his hands trail up and down her back and she plays with his hair once again. 

She doesn’t mean to grind against him, but her hips take over like they have a mind of their own as the pace and rhythm are set with through tongues. He moans into her mouth, pulling back with a shade of embarrassment painted across his cheeks. “sorry…” 

“It’s fine,” she’s a little breathless, so enamoured with him. 

He stares back at her fondly, taking in how cute she looked with lust-blown eyes and swollen lips, he smiles, “you’re good at this…” 

“Feels like it,” she teases, making him think she can feel how hard he’s getting under her and he panics. 

“You don’t have to sit on me if it’s uncomfortable, I did’t mean to—

“To what?” 

“Get hard…” he whispers, “it’s embarrassing.”

“Oh,” she hovers and looks down between them, more turned on, herself, than she realized, as well. “Oh.”

Maybe I am ready to do this…

She settles back down against him and shakes her head, “no, I’m not uncomfortable… it— it’s nice to know I did that, actually.” 

“Can I just—“ he reaches between them and adjusts himself because it was a bit uncomfortable for him, he was hanging to the left and thats where her thigh was rested, and now he’s right under her… “sorry, it hurt a bit.” 

“Sorry,” her cheeks heat up, she can feel his girth through his jeans, she has to fight every single urge not to grind down against him again, but she knows it would feel good. 

For both of them. 

“It’s okay, kiss me again?” He begs, pulling her closer. 

Their lips collide again but with much more passion and need this time, knowing what she’s doing a bit better, she’s all over him this round. Biting his lip, making him whine, tugging on his hair, she grinds against him again, not so by accident because his hands on his hips help glide her over himself perfectly. She does it again this time, he gasps into the kiss and rests his forehead against hers as she does it again and again, dragging her hot core over his aching, clothed, cock. There’s so much friction from their jeans, they feel like total fucking teenagers dry humping in his bed like they can’t get enough of each other. 

He kisses her jaw and down her neck, he sucks on her pulse point which makes her moan, it's so sweet and sexy that his cock twitches under his jeans in response. She feels it and whines, wanting more from him but not knowing what… it feels so fucking good she wants to just say fuck it and let him take her right here and now, but she’s still scared. 

She grinds down a bit harder, the seam of her pants rubbing against her clit just right. “Oh my god,” she’s so out of breath, it feels too good. 

“I’m gonna cum in my jeans if you keep this up,” he warns her, breathing against her neck between kisses. 

“Me too,” she assures him, doing it again and again, she tugs on his hair to bring his mouth back to hers, wanting to be kissing him when it happens. 

His hips come up to meet hers, his hands on her ass this time so he can help her press against him as hard as she can each time she grinds down against him. Her legs tremble a bit, his breathing sputters, and they’re a completely sweaty mess with too many clothes on. 

She feels the all too familiar heat build in her stomach and spread throughout her body as she cums with a long drawn-out sigh, which ends more like a moan as he finishes underneath her. His grip on her ass tightens, and he groans deeply as his hips sputter under her, their foreheads resting together as they catch their breath, eyes still closed. 

She feels so weightless and free, resting her head on his shoulder instead and cuddling into his chest. “Oh my god?” 

His chest still rising and falling heavily, he laughs slightly, “wasn’t expecting that.” 

“Me either…” she sighs, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “But I liked it.” 

“Me too,” he can’t help but smile. His hands roam all over her back, holding her close and soaking up the moment as long as he can. “You wanna stay here tonight?” 

She nods against him, not at all ready to leave his side. “I would love to.” 

Slowly but surely, they get up, he lets her use the bathroom first, giving her some boxers of his and a t-shirt to wear when she comes back out. He changes quickly in his room, hiding all the evidence of what happened in his dirty laundry hamper. He matches her in a new pair of underwear and the same shirt from before, smiling when she comes back into his room with her things in her hands. She rests them on his dresser, she’d have to wear them again tomorrow when she goes home. 

“You’re so cute in my things,” he compliments her, wrapping her up in his arms and kissing her forehead a few times. 

“Thanks,” she giggles, completely blown away still that this is all real and he’s her’s and it’s happening. 

They get into bed, and she snuggles into him the same way he did with her just last week with the lord of the rings. It’s cute, it feels right, and she feels at home in his arms. He runs his hands over her back. He kisses the top of her head a few times, she plays with the hem of his shirt in her hands and eventually slips her hands under his shirt to play with the slight dusting of hair on his tummy. They’re so content together it’s like they’ve always been this close. 

And they always would be too. 

part two

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @eddiemunson-rp @squishyturtle 

Eddie

@fightingdragonswithwho @kyomito @reidselle @venomsvl @nomajdetective @girl-with-an-orange-cat @blairscott @princesseddie 

@idkidknemore @eddiethesexy

[81folklore]

older - CL16

pairings: charles leclerc x male!singer!reader (fc: luke hemmings)

summary: singer yn ln releases a love song with his boyfriend, and the public are not prepared for who it is about

authors note: this has been on my mind for SO LONG. i honestly dont like how many fics ive been doing on the same people (charles, lando etc) but whenever i go to start a new one on my list for someone else i think of something that i have to do😭 also in this reader is not a part of 5sos but close friends with the 3, wfttwtaf is readers album and older is exclusivly the readers song

authors note 2: i wanted to quickly clarify i am NOT speculating that charles or luke are gay/queer and this is not my intentions. luke obviously sings older and i find it easier to visualise it this way, while the reader in this is male, this could also be read as gn!reader. this is FICTION please do not tkae this as me speculating anything

authors note 3: i didnt really know what i was doing with this so its kind of all over the place and very rushed :/ but then again when arent my smau all over the place?? also can you tell i hate writing comments by the way i just dont😭

masterlist

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, ashtonirwin and 818,937 others

we started this song together back in 2020 and picked it back up at the end of 2022

'Older' was originally a voice memo of a 50’s-style love song that we wrote together, then forgot about. when thinking of concepts for my debut album i stumbled across the memo and fell in love with it all over again, but i put it aside yet again as to me, it deserved more than the album

the song has changed a lot from the original voice memo, but the meaning has stayed the same throughout. despite all the beauty, the ups and downs of a long-term relationship over many years, there’s inevitably going to be the worst moment of your love because one of you is going to lose each other

capturing those feelings in a song was tricky but ultimately we wrote from the heart and i think it shows in the song itself

this has always been a song between us, so having him play on this song was very importnt to me and im glad he said yes

older is now yours

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yourusername

liked by landonorris, calumhood and 1,727,338 others

im very pleased to announce a very special one off show at the Royal Albert Hall in London this November 18th. I will be playing a bunch of tracks from my debut album and may be joined to play some others aswell! Tickets on sale this monday at 10 am BST. Lots of love always, yn x

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yourusername

liked by 5sos, charles_leclerc and 2,719,936 others

thank you for an incredible night at the royal albert hall

looking back at the best night of my life, i need to thank each and every one of you who allowed this dream to come true, i will never be able to thank you guys enough

performing in my dream venue, with my favorite people in the world was something i never thought was possible and yet here i am, writing this still on my high from last night

thank you to my friends; michael, ashton and calum who took the time to come to london and perform their songs with me, thank you for always loving me and agreeing to my crazy ideas

to my team and everyone who worked to make this night as special as it could be, thank you. thank you for making my htoughts a reality and making this night as wonderful as possible

thank you to the staff who worked throughout the show to make sure everyone was safe, well and looked after. you truly do not get as much credit as you deserve and i apreciate the hard work you put in to keep everyone happy

thank you to those who joined me, i wish each and every one of you who wanted to could have been there. thank you for singing along and listening to me pour my heart and soul into my music

thank you for letting me do this x

view comments

user55: not the pcd hitting already☹️

user1: and im supposed to pretend i didnt see yn and 5sos perform os/co??

user89: CHARLES?? YN IS DATING CHARLES??

user91: AND HE CAME ON STAGE?? AND THEY PERFORMED OLDER??

user50: i cant believe i saw this all happen live

user47: THANK YOU TO WHOEVER WAS RUNING THE GRAINY LIVESTREAM I OWE YOU MY LIFE🧎🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

ashtonirwin: thank you for everything yn. youre a real life angel

user16: NO CHARLES MENTION??

user9: BESTIE HE HAS A WHOLE POST

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, michaelclifford and 3,619,273 others

after having time to process this show, I feel so overcome with gratefulness. my music means so much to me and seeing so many people resonate with it in a live space was so special for me.

charlie, my life would literally fall apart without you and this would have never happened without you giving me the confidence to do so, i hold so much love and admiration for you

thank you for joining me on such a special night and performing our song with me, thank you for sticking with me through it all and thank you for allowing me to share this part of my life with you

i sometimes wonder where i would be if i didnt find you, if i wasnt blessed with your love. i try to think about the times before you, before us, but both feel impossible to do after feeling your love

life with you is so special and i promise to always cherish and love you

merci de m'avoir laissé vieillir avec toi, merci de m'avoir laissé t'adorer, merci de m'avoir choisi (thank you for letting me get old with you, thank you for letting me adore you, thank you for choosing me)

yn x

tagged: charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc: mon ange, je t'aimerai toujours (my angel, I will always love you)

charles_leclerc: je suis tellement privilégiée d'être celle que tu aimes🤍🤍 (I'm so privileged to be the one you love)

yourusername: vieillir avec toi ne semble pas si effrayant🖤🖤 (growing old with you doesn't seem so scary)

[uhdrienne]

𝐦é𝐥𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞 •°. *࿐

🎻 feat: violinist!jun x violinist!reader, victorian era, enemies to lovers (kind of)

🎻 warnings: mentions of physical abuse (not explicit), mentions of cheating (but no one cheated)!!! not the best e2l i'm very sorry

🎻word count: ~11k

🎻 summary: in an era of music and dance, of dukes and arranged marriages, there is only one man whom you fight tooth and nail to play at the same tempo as -- legendary violinist wen junhui. people fall over themselves to dance to a song he plays, and festivities from all over the land request the pleasure of his attendance.

portraits are painted, praises sung of him, but you've only ever known him as your stiffest competition, in a society where outstanding women are frowned upon, reduced to mere puppets in the shadow of men. yet, amid domineering voices and too-loud presences, you have no option but to understand that he was the melody that played his way into your heart.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1870, November 11th

"Your Grace," You reach for the Duchess' outstretched hand as you exit the carriage, your other hand lifting your gown, the horses skittering as they reach a complete stop.

"My dear Y/N! It has been too long since you have graced our court," The Duchess seems pleased to meet you as she clutches your hand tightly, you squeezing it in return.

"It has been long," You agree. "It is an honour to play for the annual ball once more."

"Nonsense!" She trills a laugh, her hand coming up to cover herself. "Truly, it is our greatest blessing to be able to hear your music."

You smile in gratitude as she leads you towards the palace. "Thank you, Your Grace. I'm looking forward to performing for you as well."

"I'll have someone send up your bags to your rooms," She adds, continuing to walk you in. "The estate is busy today, what with the company we're having... and the two greatest violinists of our time!"

Your smile freezes on your face. It can't be, it's not possible--

"Of course, we're not expecting Sir Wen Junhui just yet, but I like the staff to be well-prepared-"

Wen Junhui. Of course, it had to be him.

"My dear? Are you alright?" The Duchess asks you, concern on her face. "I didn't have you just now."

"My apologies, Your Grace," You immediately say, a smile plastered on your face. "I...I must have been tired. Carriage journeys have never really been my preference."

"Of course, how could I forget!" The duchess sighs, before turning to the servants trailing behind. "Ensure Miss Y/N has everything she needs. She must be in tip-top condition for the ball." At the servants' bow, she turns back to you. "I must return to the preparations," she tells you. "Will you be alright heading to your rooms by yourself? The servants will lead you."

"Of course, Your Grace," You curtsy. "You really didn't have to lead me in, it was too much trouble. Please, I wish not to disturb you further."

Again, her tinkling laugh. "What words! You could never be a trouble to me, my dear friend."

You bid your farewell and as she leaves, the servants motioning to lead you to your chambers.

You shake your head lightly as you resume the walk. Wen Junhui, in the same place as you. What luck.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

"You two surely have met, given your professions," The Duke tells you as he beckons to a tall man you know all too well. "It is my understanding that you both played for His Majesty's coronation the previous year."

"Indeed we did," His velvet-like voice, thinly masking his hostility, returns. "It was charming to be in her company."

"As if." Your mutter, thankfully, goes unheard by the Duke. Junhui, however, picks up on it, what with those sensitive ears of his that supposedly make him an oh-so-amazing violinist, and raises his eyebrows at you.

The Duke excuses himself soon after to find his wife, which leaves you and Junhui standing alone. His waistcoat, laced with what you recognise to be one of the finest silks in the market, rustles with his movement as he turns and faces you properly.

He bows to you in mock politeness. "My pleasure to be in your delightful company once more, Miss L/N."

You roll your eyes. "Skip the formality, for our sakes."

Amusement laces his cat-like features. "If you say so, treasure." The term of endearment stirs more irritation in you.

The hostility between you two dated back to your teens. Fresh out in the world and eager for opportunity, you tried to become the court violinist in the royal orchestra, to prove yourself not just as a talent but as a woman, only to be turned away with the memo that a violinist had already been chosen, the only one the court was looking for, and it had been Junhui, all lanky limbs but with the fervour of a highly determined seventeen-year-old.

And at the birthday celebration of a royal you didn't remember, for which your family watched from the gates, you heard him play for the very first time. The symphony the orchestra had played, the seamless chords and semiquavers that had flowed from his relentless fingers on the strings, and the firm press of the glowing horsehair of his bow had impressed every person in the audience. Except for you.

No, you were bitter, so, so, bitter, that the one chance you had strived for your whole life had been taken from right through your fingers.

From then on, you had been known, amongst many in your small town, not very kindly, to be the "young lady who had dared to pit herself against Wen Junhui".

Your mother and father had taken the remarks in shame, beginning to discourage you from pursuing music. Yet, you had taken no heed, continuing to find all ways to continue what had become your lifeline.

And as he soared, both in skill and in fame, to become the most popular violinist of the age, you worked equally hard at your art, staining your fingers with cuts and your wrists with injury as you strived to reach his heights.

And you had run into luck, for an academy run by a sharp-tongued man scouted you at a performance at your local church. Before long, you were on the stage, flitting from event to celebration, just as you dreamed. You played concertos and partitas to your heart's content, did opening acts for renowned orchestras, and headlined the stage in the courts of various nations, eager to keep climbing the ladder towards the goal that was Junhui.

But no matter your greviances, you truly enjoyed the stage. It was everything you had. You took pride in your work, you blushed at compliments, and you appreciated every chance there was to step on the stage and perch the four-stringed instrument on your shoulder.

Then came the day when you met your competitor for the very first time, performing at a gala held for a local lord. He'd looked at you, no doubt recognising you based on the gossip circulating around, and raised an eyebrow in teasing recognition before shaking his head and simply turning away. No formalities were exchanged, even though you were fully intending to be civil.

From then on, you both maintained a stoic but unspoken rivalry, making sniping remarks when you had the misfortune of meeting. Yet, years after it all started, here he was, standing in front of you, on a stage you would soon share.

And as luck would have it, a courtier walked over. Park, you remembered his last name with some effort. He had been the first to object when the court invited you to play at this ball. The papers had published his account of why you shouldn't be involved (boringly long, you thought).

"My, my, if it isn't the two legends of our time," He drawled, in a voice that grated on your nerves. "I must say, having you both on the same stage is rather...shocking."

Junhui raises his brows. "And what prompted that belief?"

"Oh, but doesn't everyone know of your rivalry, sir! Years upon years of competition of talent."

You let out a light laugh, leaning forward to the smug courtier to jest. "And which of us would you prefer, sir?"

His smirk is nothing short of hateful, you decide, when he replies, "Captivating as your music is, my charming lady, I find Sir Wen Junhui's music simply...breathtaking. Perhaps a fine man, bestowing his heavenly talents upon us all, is much welcomed now."

Junhui's smirk is even more hateful, you determine when he walks past you, Courtier Park in tow, his hand raising to pat your shoulder, which you brush off roughly, saying under his breath, "Better luck next time. Looks like you won't be playing in his court any time soon."

"Rot in hell."

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

"Oh, how wonderful that you both will be sharing the stage this time!" The Duchess claps her hand in appreciation after each of you plays excerpts of your performance pieces.

"It's an honour," Junhui replies, bowing low. You curtsey, noting the way the Duke nods at Courtier Park after.

"Refresh yourselves," The Duke instructs. "We will see you at the celebrations. We're looking forward to both of your performances."

You can't bring yourself to look interested when Junhui turns to you. "As am I." The smug, arrogant twinkle in his eyes does not go amiss.

You curtsey once more and at the couple's nods, stride out of the room, Junhui behind you.

"The Divertimento No.17 by Mozart," He muses. "A fitting choice. You always liked the cheer."

"And you could only dream of appreciating them."

"Snippy as ever, treasure," Junhui answers patronisingly, as easy as counting.

"Yes, well, you are no different from the last time we met," You reply coldly, turning a corner. "Stop following me."

"Our rooms are nearby, treasure," He drawls, leaning against the wall. "Remind me again why you're being so delightful?"

"Why, huh," You sneer back, turning to face him. "Where to start? Why are you even here?"

"Why am I here?" He echoes. "My dear, I was invited. As were you. Through our wonderful years of being around each other, you would know I dislike performing for the royals. I agreed because I owed His Grace a favour."

"Of course you did," You mutter. "Well, I'll get going. Go find your next person to terrorise, you take joy in that anyway."

His chuckles go on as you walk off, the skirts of your dress fanning out behind you.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

Notes, one after another, flow like water out of his bow, in rapid semiquavers and strong crotchets, chords easing through the strings as easy as the alphabet.

You can't deny Wen Junhui is a phenomenal performer.

It's two waltzes before your piece comes up, and the guests of the ball are mingling, filling in dance cards, getting to know one another. You see a few familiar faces, ladies of society whom you'd seen on other occasions. The Duke and the Duchess took the dance floor earlier, and are now nursing glasses of carefully brewed liquor, laughing and entertaining.

The head of the estate's entertainment announces your appearance, and you step up in front of the orchestra. At your cue, the piano launches into the familiar cheerful chord.

And off you go from there. You laser-focus yourself on every note, the vibrato you'd honed to perfection. And thankfully, all goes without a hitch, leading to resounding applause as people break away from their dance partners.

The Duchess bustles to you after you bow and get down. "My dear, that was magical."

"Oh," You smile at her gushing compliment. "Thank you. I enjoyed myself."

"And so you should," The Duke encourages, walking up next to his wife. "What a stunning job you've done."

The Duchess hums in agreement before exclaiming. "Right! I was coming to say, the governors want you and Sir Wen Junhui to dance together."

You stiffen. "I'm sorry?"

“As a sign of goodwill,” The Duke says. “Not very customary, given that you have no real ties to each other, but we think it would be nice. Not to mention, you both ought to loosen up and enjoy yourselves tonight. Do you not agree?”

You’re about to politely decline, but an arm slides around your arm and tugs you closer. Just a little. “Of course we do. Thank you for the offer, Your Grace.” Junhui nods at the beaming couple.

The Duchess smiles at you as her husband nods, satisfied and ready to help her to the dance floor again. “Enjoy yourselves.”

“I—”

“Hush,” Junhui croons as he sweeps you into his arms and across the floor in an elegant turn, the beginning notes of another popular waltz playing out. “We are meant to revel. Look at the atmosphere we’ve created. We ought to enjoy the fruition of our work, no?”

“Shut up.”

He smirks slightly at you. “As you please. You’re not a bad dancer, I see.”

You curse silently. In the distraction of the banter, your feet had automatically stepped alongside his, rhythmically and physically attuned as one — one body and one being.

Heavens, you hated it.

“Fall silent at praises?” He raises his brows.

You snort. “Why should I if it comes from you?”

He gasps in mock hurt. “You wound me, truly.”

“Oh, forgive me,” You simper, a sweet smile on your face. “Whatever should I do with that information?”

And back and forth it went again, till the last cadenza played. His confident and suave digs, your sarcastic and impatient snipes.

He lets go of you as the crowd starts mingling again, and smiles. “It was a pleasure. We’ll meet again.”

He presses a kiss to the back of your palm, winks and disappears into the throng, leaving you looking appalled at your hand.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1871, January 17th

“You want me to what?”

“Keep your voice down,” Your father urges.

“Oh, forgive me for being surprised that you’re marrying me off.”

“Daughter,” He says sternly, putting down his paper. “It’s Merchant Park’s son. A finely educated, young man. You will not do any worse with him. At the very least, it would make you seem more like the desired lady you are.”

“And what of my music?” You demand. “I have to put a stop to my dreams? On your order?”

“Dear,” Your mother cautions, then addresses your father. “Husband, we should tell her the truth. The deal is signed, anyway.”

Deal. You’re being sent to some stranger over a deal.

“We are not doing well, you know this,” Your father explains.

“I have told you, the commissions I get from the Lords and the palace—”

Your father holds up his hand. “Let me finish.”

“We need help to keep our estate and our rights,” He continues. “Merchant Park has very kindly provided a deal for us: a monetary exchange in return for a bride. As Mr. Nathaniel Park has proved himself a true man, we saw no reason to turn down such a win-win offer: a groom for our daughter and enough to sustain us.”

You clench your fists. “And you didn’t think to ask my opinion on all this? When I am the one to marry?”

Your father eyes you. “Daughter, things in other households are far worse. Some do not even know until the night before the matrimony. You might consider yourself lucky.”

You look to your mother, but she trains her eyes on her tea and doesn’t reply.

A painful lump forms in your throat. “Is there no other way?”

Your father shakes his head. “Not one as beneficial as this.”

“And will it ensure prosperity and stability for the rest of your days?”

He nods. “We will do much better than before.”

You blow out a resigned breath. “When will it be?”

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1871, March 1st

Church bells ring, shouts are heard.

You marry Mr Nathaniel Park in the nearest church to his estate. It has been the talk of the town, and throngs have turned up to see a wealthy merchant's son marry a talent of the nation.

Everyone, except for your families, seem to be under the impression that you had been seeing each other in secret for years, and had finally emerged to take the next step.

It’s all nonsense, every last detail, but the very same nonsense made it to the papers by next morning.

You leave your family home that night to start your life with Nathaniel.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1874, June 28th

You were bored out of your mind.

Your violin was locked up goodness knows where, and Nathaniel had explicitly said he had no intention of letting you return to the stage as a career.

It had killed you a little inside, but it was to little surprise. Men like Nathaniel and his equally unbearable father were common. And you had fully expected to be controlled and restricted in return for your family’s benefit.

Except you had severely underestimated how much time the violin occupied. With nothing to do and only so much overseeing of the estate you could do, you were about to go insane.

Worse, Nathaniel had been in a dark mood as people in the streets had started gossiping.

Because while Wen Junhui had continued to travel far and wide to showcase his talents, his rival (yes, you) had suddenly stopped doing the same — so suddenly that it was downright suspicious.

And your temporary reprieve came when an invite for a local lord’s ball came by the estate. In it, it urged for both your attendance and a a suggestion for you to perform. It seemed like a good chance for Nathaniel to turn the tide and assure society that you were still fulfilling your dream, and to quell any rumours.

Your fingers were rusty, so it was to your shock when Nathaniel allowed you to play and practice for a couple of hours.

“For the ball,” He warned. “Only for the ball. I cannot have people speculating why my wife has suddenly stopped performing publicly.”

It was better than nothing, you surmise.

And so it is to your greatest pride that you stand once again on the stage, performing a sonata you’d long since learnt by heart, the guests clapping and in awe.

And after you get off the stage, you use the start of yet another dance to allow yourself to be whisked away by your husband. But your impatience returns once you see who your dance partner is.

“I thought I’d come keep you company since it has been a while,” Wen Junhui smiles lazily at you as he captures your hand in his. “Congratulations are in order, I see.”

You shrug.

“Funny how the papers said you’d been seeing each other for a long while. A secret dalliance, did that paperboy say? Wonder where that came from.”

"Be quiet."

He does not, in fact, keep quiet.

“Dashing man,” He nods towards your husband, who is doing an awful job of hiding his scowl at you dancing with another. “Tell him to loosen up and smile a little. After all, his wife is the star of tonight.”

“Shut up.”

“Not proud of your matrimony?” He has a saccharine tone which you decide you really hate.

“You know nothing.”

“Huh.” His grin drops, no longer pleasant, as you take another turn around the floor, falling perfectly into place with other dancers. “Someone is snippy today.”

“Would you please stop?” You demand hotly. It’s not as if you would admit right this second that this marriage was what you want. “If you have nothing genuinely good to say, why don’t you—”

"Oh, so you want me to be quiet, huh?"

His eyes are now suddenly simmering with both mild anger and something else, perhaps impatience. With that same burning expression on his face, he grips your hand and hauls you toward him.

The abrupt and rough action makes you release a squeak of surprise, and his other hand catches your head in time to adjust it on his chest.

You struggle. "We are in public! Unhand me this instant!"

"I told you, be quiet."

"What?!"

"Be quiet and listen," He demands, pressing your head to his chest, using the throng of dancers and people to hide you from Nathaniel. "Listen and tell me what you hear."

You scowl up at him. "Is this a joke?"

"What do you hear?"

"Your heartbeat, like a normal living person?" You snarl. "What more is there?"

"Listen again."

After a brief pause, you ask him, "Why is it racing?"

He glares at you. "Exactly."

"What do you mean, exactly? That was not even my questi-"

"My God, use your brain for once," He sighs impatiently. "If I truly hated you, would I have picked you as my dance partner? Would I have offered you my company and my well-wishes? Would I, Y/N?"

"W-what do you mean?"

"Forget it," he snarls, biting his lip in impatience. "Go and be with your husband. Last I heard, he was looking for your whereabouts." He strides away, leaving you stunned.

And even as Nathaniel meets you and berates you for leaving his side, and as you get back into the homebound carriage with him, your mind stays only on Junhui.

If I truly hated you, would I have picked you as my duet partner?Would I have offered you my company and my well-wishes?

Would I, Y/N?

You lean your head on the back of the carriage, the lights of the city wide awake, even with the lateness of the hour, your mind whirling with thoughts you didn't know were true.

His racing heartbeat, your racing mind. He didn't hate you. The real question now was... did you hate him? Still?

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1874, September 4th

It's a rainy afternoon when everything falls apart. Nathaniel is in a horrible mood, and you're about to lose your mind.

No music, since he took it away from you once you got home. No money to seek any kind of entertainment, since he's in charge of the estate's finances. You can't even go out on a ride, since he's ordered the footmen to keep you within the property.

“What’s going on between you and Mr. Wen?” You look up at his seething question as he strides in and throws the morning paper down on the table in front of you. “It has been months and columns are still writing about you two!”

“What am I supposed to do, tell the writers to stop?” You ask drily, and a sudden strong fist grabs your arm and a blunt impact is unceremoniously struck to your face.

You freeze, blood running cold.

Nathaniel doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest that he just hit his wife.

He grunts in displeasure. “Heavens, I’ll have to explain these articles to our family again.” He makes a tutting sound at you and strides out of the room, massaging his hand and rotating his wrist.

Amidst everything, the painful swell of your cheek and arm, the humiliation you feel, and the anger that courses through you, you can only think of one thing.

One person.

And so Junhui has the shock of his life when you turn up, panting and soaked in the downpour, at the gates of his estate. Your fine gown is as good as ruined, your updo plastered over your face. Your makeup is running, and Junhui wastes no time pulling you indoors.

"I didn't know where else to go," You murmur, strength sapped, and he says nothing, only signals to his servants to get towels and new clothes.

As he surveys you, his eyes widen in disgust and shock, and he takes your shoulders in his warm and gentle grip. "Was this him? Sir Park's son?"

At your unsettling silence, he repeats his question, more firmly this time. "Did he do this to you?"

For the first time in maybe your life, you meet his eyes fully. There is anger in his eyes, so raw and so deep, that you feel your eyes start burning again.

As you bow your head to blink the tears away, he lifts your chin to meet his eyes once more. "You have never shied away from me. Of all times, my treasure, I would beg you not to hide now."

You stay silent, and he repeats his question, each word more strained than the last.

You nod imperceptibly, confirming his worst fears.

"God," He groans, leaning forward to hold your hands in his large ones. "If I were a swordsman and not a musician, he would be gutted like a fish."

You try to crack a smile, but it just doesn't come out right. "You're not funny."

"I wasn't trying to be," He returns. "But whilst we are on this subject, perhaps my bow could do the job. It's sharp enough."

That finally coaxes a small, broken smile out of you, and his shoulders release slightly at the sight.

His servants return with the requested items, and after pushing you into a room with an adjoining chamber to dry off and get changed, he sits you down as he tends to you. Still shaken, you just let him, and you watch silently as he presses a small makeshift ice pack to your face, made of soft towels and crushed ice meant for drinks.

Occasionally, he brushes a hand through your hair to detangle it and let it dry. It's so... domestic, painfully so, and you're fully aware of how hard your heart is pounding.

"I hate you," His voice suddenly comes through, and you look up as they register. "I hate you so much, you know that?"

Your voice is hoarse as you reply. "I know. I know it all."

"I hate that you're here, in my estate. I detest the sight of you. I hate that we're here, only being civil under circumstances like these, and I loathe beyond comprehension that he did this to you. I hate it so much, but I despise you the most for not coming to my door the second it happened."

Your eyes sting again with tears, and he reaches up to wipe at them, his eyes the most tender you've ever seen.

"Do not shed tears for a man so undeserving," He murmurs. "It is unbecoming, you know."

"I know," You choke. "I didn't want to."

"Forget about him." His voice resounds like thunder. "You should not remain with a monster like him for your family. You are your own person, and your fate is in your hands."

He turns his attention back to the bruise on your arm, tending to it with the same gentleness and precision a tinker had with music boxes.

He called for medicine, clothed and fed you, only to hear you confess three hours later. "I must return before dawn. He will be seeking me out, and I can't have him come to your estate and make trouble."

"No." His firm refusal shot a pang into your heart.

"Junhui. I must."

"You will not return to that hellhole. It's my order."

"I have to, my family-"

"Would want their daughter to be whole and hale." His voice is deep and fierce, so much angrier than you've ever heard.

"I would not see you ruin yourself for a godforsaken life with him. If he can hit you once, and to this extent," he motions to you, "He will do it again and again. Each time even harder than the last. You will die at his hands!"

"The deal-"

"The money is the last thing on my mind!" He exclaims, now agitated. "I do not care about the riches or the deal your family has made with anyone. I just want you to be safe. I want you to be happy. Are you happy, locked up in a great lonely house with him, giving up on the art you have honed all your life, becoming his puppet and a shell of what you once were, only to be hit as if you are worth nothing?"

You shake your head, as if trying to shake off his words. "I know, you're right, Junhui, god! You are right about it all. But my family... they are everything to me. I worked all this time just so I could go home to them someday and live our days out in comfort. I...I cannot forsake them now. Not when they will be thrown into the streets and shamed if they do not honour the contract."

"Then stay here with me," He pleads. "I will handle all of it. I'll make sure no one gets hurt. You can perform and do everything to your heart's desire and I will never hold you back. Please."

"I cannot burden you with my issues!" You shout, choking back a poorly concealed sob, hands reaching to your hair to tug on it in frustration. "Please, Junhui, please, just... let me be. Live your life and let me live mine."

"You chose to come here tonight. Yet now you ask me to stay out this. How can I, if you're making a choice that may very well get you killed?!"

"I will not. You know that. I'm strong enough to handle it."

"Do you even know what you are handling?" He demands hotly. "A violent barbarian who knows only use his fists against a blameless lady and her family -- do you have any idea how horrendous that sounds?!"

You take a deep breath. "I-"

"I will open my gates to you and your family. I will give you my home, my sanctuary and protection, anything you will ever need. But in return, all I ask is that you leave that place. Leave someone who will never care for you the way you should be cared for."

"I can't, I can't. The world is in my way, his family-- they would never view me or respect me the way I want. Not as a musician who worked her way to the top. They will see me as a mere town-girl who seduced him for money and ran off with it. Everything I've done to make sure people never see me that way-- I can't handle that."

"And so you pick them, their satisfaction and influence, over your own fate?" He asks incredulously. "That strong, stubborn, steadfast woman I know -- where is she?"

"I am not picking. It is my only option! You have seen how the governors and men of the court see me, even as a musician in comparison to you. I would suffer that tenfold, and worse, my family will go the same path. I would rather die than allow it to happen, even if I must suffer."

The whole room goes silent, save for your breathing and his ragged pants.

His nose flares and his eyes narrow. His voice turns colder than the cruel winters of the land. "Is that what you truly mean?"

"..Yes. Yes."

After what seems like an eternity, he nods, so slightly you almost don't catch it. His lips curl, whether in disgust or mock of your decision, you do not know. He looks the most disappointed you've ever seen him. "Fine. Then let him destroy you. Let the people who do not matter, do not care about you tear you to shreds. Perhaps you were right, and I was the one meddling too much. I apologise." He starts walking away.

"Junhui-" You begin as you clutch his arm, dread running down your spine, but he simply looks at your hands wrapped around his with the indifference you thought was all he had. He looks at your pleading eyes, your shaking posture. He wants nothing more than to tell you how he feels, the immense frustration that you just won't let him be there for you... but through his raging emotions, his mouth stays shut.

"You can leave as you want," He says, all the emotion from prior gone. He finally looks you in the eye, his own betraying only the smallest hint of anguish and something you can't quite place. "I will not hold you back if that's what you desire. I just hope you will be happy with your decision, Y/N."

And then he's gone, leaving you to sink down in the middle of the room and cry into your hands, the finery of the gown he clothed you in now a mess around you.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1874, September 5th

"You have returned."

Not quite a question, but you nod to your husband, who is currently lounging on a newly embroidered couch, eyeing you up and down with something close to disdain in his eyes.

"Costume yourself. Conceal everything well. There is another ball tonight in honour of a newly debuted painter, and we must attend."

Fantastic. Yet another function where you would be on his arm, hang on to his every word, pretend to love him. "Must-"

Nathaniel raises his hand and you flinch. He lowers it, head tilting. "You heard me."

You head up to your chambers in silence.

Your tears flow as you dress yourself as instructed, every puff of makeup lowered to your face doing a terrible job of hiding the marks on your face, the exhausted swell of your eyes.

Fine. Then let him destroy you, Junhui had said bitterly.

He probably already had, you thought. In ways no one would ever see.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

"Sir Park!" Court ladies and gentlemen alike hailed your husband as he helped you out of the carriage, painting the picture of a perfect husband. You see your mother, dressed in finery, looking awkward and uncomfortable with the current company. You start excusing yourself to walk to her, but Nathaniel holds you to him, glaring down at you with a fake grin plastered on his face. "What are you doing?" He hisses furiously under his breath.

"I am going to see my mother," You hiss back through gritted teeth, venom in your voice, a sweet smile fixed on your face as if you were exchanging an intimate secret. "Or would you prefer I scream for help, darling?"

He releases you immediately. "Be back swiftly. People will wonder of your whereabouts."

Without responding, you make your way through the crowd, smiling and bowing slightly to the upperclassmen who greet you. When you reach your mother, she visibly relaxes, reaching out to clasp your hand.

"My dear girl," She says, trying to smile. "You seem to have lost weight. Are you well?"

"Very, Mother," You reply, through a fake smile.

Concern shines in her eyes, and she tries to continue. "Daughter. Don't make the same mistakes I did, trying to keep defying your father. There are times where we must step back, and you might find that... life gets easier. The frustration will ease."

Would the frustration and pain of your marriage really fade? Would you, like Junhui insisted, be reduced to a hollow shell, numbed to everything and allow yourself to be treated like an unloved rag doll? Would you, after everything you did to make a woman out of yourself... become a meek and obedient arm candy, the one thing you never wanted to be?

As you pull away from your mother with a quiet excuse, you hear pleasantries being called to a new guest, and you turn to find Junhui, who clearly just entered the ballroom, staring directly at you.

You're not sure if your eyes look imploring enough, but it doesn't seem to work. Junhui turns away, and for the rest of the evening, you do not catch his eye.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1874, September 21st

Days pass and you still play the perfect wife.

The order is exactly the same. You attend balls, play one or two customary pieces for Nathaniel to receive the oohs and ahhs of your talent, and at the end of the night, you return to your great, lonely house and sleep alone.

Soon after you got home from the ball, Nathaniel received an invitation to a business conference with the lords of Sicily. He had, after careful deliberation, decided to bring you.

Fine, you think. At least with the business, he might be too busy to keep you in line all day.

Nathaniel hasn't hit you since that night, but you're constantly on tenterhooks, on edge that his anger might blow once more. It's a ticking time bomb at home, and not much better outside. It isn't as if you have anyone to lament to about your marital troubles.

Your impatience is getting worse day by day. You already know the deal could easily be nullified, with the riches you know your family has received, but your parents still have no intention of setting you free. And so, on a warm Tuesday afternoon, three springtimes after it all started, you make your decision, rash and unchecked.

"I want to leave."

"What?"

"I cannot live like this. Not as your trophy wife. I wasn't born for this."

"And where will you go?" Nathaniel sneers. "Who will have you, a once-married woman?"

"It matters not where I go," You shoot, "You have no business knowing. As long as I am away from you, you asshole!"

"Oh, I would be very entertained," He replies coldly, a mocking smile set upon his hateful face. "I would like to know which man would take in the likes of you, even if you go to Sicily and start anew. Or maybe Sir Wen Junhui has already defiled-"

You slap him hard. He clutches his cheeks, turning red from the impact and from his rage. "You dirty little rat-"

"You are the vermin that thinks that way," You seethe. "You are the problem here. Not me, not Junhui, not my family. This isn't about the deal we made with your father anymore. It is purely because I am a woman that you are behaving this way. If anything is being defiled here, it is my dignity and your reputation."

He scoffs. "And you really believe some good Samaritan will voluntarily take you in and give you a bright future? Even if you believe so, you will end up the same way, in their kitchens, whether in Sicily or anywhere in the world. I am doing you a favour."

He steps closer. "But perhaps you already have someone in mind? ...Sir Wen Junhui, perhaps?"

You narrow your eyes at him. "What's this got to do with him?"

"Oh, you don't fool me," He laughs humourlessly. "You think I never see the way his eyes move to you when you're in the same room? You think I don't notice how you glance at him? And those few moments at the painter's ball last month. Care to explain that, my dear wife?"

"We are not on good terms." You hiss, stepping up to him. "Shame on you that you think otherwise, because there is nothing going on. I am no cheating liar."

"Perhaps not," He muses. "But I would pay good money to see what he thinks of you."

You stand your ground. "I want a divorce. That's all I want. I can return all the money you want to you in due course. Just set me free."

"Let's see what the courts think of that," He challenges, and you clench your teeth, anger overriding you like never before. "Your whole family will crash and burn with you. All because of your erroneous ways."

You stride away from him, out the estate doors, and his condescending, bitter voice resounds in your head, eyes wide in the face of your rebellion. "You don't know men the way you think you do, Y/N. Mark my words. Wen Junhui will not take you in no matter what he says. Women only have one fate, and you sealed it the moment we married."

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

Junhui opens the door and swears it's deja vu.

Mere weeks ago he did the same thing, only for you to break his heart in a span of a few hours. He surmises that it must be the same situation tonight.

Nevertheless, he opens the door to your panting figure wordlessly and lets you enter. You look sheepish as you adjust your gown, body heaving with the effort it took to run here, but he does nothing.

No, if he gave in and comforted you, he did not think he could risk another heartbreak.

You beat him to it. "I'm sorry I came," You start hesitantly. He stays silent, so you continue.

"Nathaniel, he-"

"Forgive me, but I do not wish to hear details of your marriage. You said it yourself, your life is not my concern." He knows he is being petty, but this was the only way he knew he would not overstep.

"It-"

"What more do you have to say to me?"

You open your mouth to reply, but the bell of his estate rings and you glance at him, petrified. You mouth the words as if the visitor would hear, Nathaniel? His jaw clenches instinctively.

He quickly ushers you into another room, a safe distance from the sitting room where they would still be in earshot. "Stay put," He warns.

He leaves for the main door, and you can hear him exchanging greetings with a man's voice, all too familiar.

It is Nathaniel. You expected it.

"Please, sit. Can I offer you a drink?"

"No need for formality. I am not here as Sir Park's son, but as Y/N's husband."

"...I see. Well, what can I do for you?"

"We are both gentlemen, Sir Wen," You hear your husband say. "Let us get right to the point. You harbour illicit feelings for my wife, do you not?"

"...I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." Junhui's voice has turned cold. Nathaniel should be afraid, but he looks Junhui squarely in the eye.

"I told her this and I'll tell you too, Sir Wen," Your husband's voice is careless, as if he doesn't care what he's saying. "She is mine. And I have rules about the women in my life. They will not look at other men. Their life will change to suit mine. And if anyone tries to defy that, defy me, I will tear them down. You, my dear musician, are no exception."

The room goes silent for a moment. "Well, I am glad we straightened this out." You can practically feel Nathaniel smiling, smug in his arrogance. "Y/N will be heading to Sicily soon, and I must ready our travel plans. Goodness, what a world we live in!"

His footsteps scuff the ground as he gets up, then stop. "This was a nice meeting, but the next time we chat about this, I will not be as friendly." You hear his chair creak. "Well, as you were. Good evening."

"You do not deserve any part of Y/N." Junhui mutters.

"...I'm sorry?"

"I said, you do not deserve her." Junhui repeats, each word firmer than the last. "If you knew her at all, those vile, vulgar words should never have left you. Had you not wed her just for her talent and face value, you would have seen her for who she is -- a strong, talented, and truly selfless woman. She gave up her music, her lifeline, to marry a man she barely knows just for her family's sake. If you ever bothered to observe her beyond your conceited and overbearing ego, you would have found bliss with her by your side."

"...I knew coming to an agreement so quickly was suspicious." YOur husband laughs, slightly cruelly. "And you would know all that of my wife, because?"

"I do not know her as well as I'd like, but I know better than to let go of such a precious being." Junhui's words do not cease, each one hitting home hard. "The innate truth is, neither you nor I deserve her. I will not lie that she showed up at my estate the night you laid your filthy hands on her, and nothing has ever made me angrier. So I swear, from now on, not a single hand will land upon her, or be damned this nation and its money, I will make it my life's duty to ensure you never again see the light of day."

Nathaniel chuckles, as if Junhui's words are but a gust of wind, as insignificant as one raindrop in a thunderstorm. You cannot stay and hear any more of this. So you creep towards the nearest window, ajar to let air in. As you crawl out, careful not to hook the hem of your gown on the hinges, and flee for the back gate, you hear your husband croon. "There must be more than meets the eye, Mr Wen. Although, I hope you know where you stand. Y/N will never belong to you."

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1874, September 24th

"Thank you for coming, Mother," You try to smile at her, as she sits across you.

"You have never invited me over before," She says brightly. "What did you seek me out for?"

"I need to tell you something."

"Okay..." She comments, putting her teacup down. "Go on."

"I wish to leave Nathaniel."

"What?" Your mother is beyond alarmed, sitting forward and furrowing her brows. "Daughter, you know--"

"He hits me," You blurt out, and her eyes widen. Perhaps not the most graceful or discreet way to expose your suffering, but to you, there was no nice way to say it, no matter how much it hurt.

"He-- Y/N--"

"And someone else came and saved me. In so many ways, even the ways I did not know I could be saved.”

"Wh-" Your mother looks truly befuddled, and in any other situation, you might have laughed at the astounded look on her face.

"Wen Junhui." You continue blabbering. "He has seen me for who I am, at my best and at my worst, and he... he has healed me. He told me the truth that no one bothered to say, and he taught me that... that my fate is my own. Mother... I do not think I can live by the words of others. I think... I think that would make me miserable beyond belief."

Your mother is silent for what seems like an eternity, and you fiddle with your fingers nervously.

She finally opens her mouth to speak, and your breath catches.

“Of all people,” She murmurs, before giving you a soft smile. “I never would have thought that Mr. Wen would be the one to catch your eye.”

You shake your head in fond exasperation. “Life works in mysterious ways.”

“No.” She disagrees. “It has its own wiles and ways, but everything… everything happens for a reason. We were foolish to try forcing your happiness, weren’t we?”

You shake your head again. “I know you want the best for me.”

“I do, and I am glad you trust that, Daughter,” Your mother says softly, and you look at her, the gentleness of it all making your eyes glass over. “And if the best for you can be found in Mr. Wen…”

She dabs at her eyes carefully to prevent the kohl from running, and shoots a smile at you, genuine and loving. “Who are we to disagree?”

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1874, September 27th

"You'll need more coats. Those dresses of yours are so overbearing." Nathaniel comments as your maids fold both of your clothes into trunks.

You grit your teeth but say nothing, as you pick out your jewellery.

"And this," He holds up another gown, one of your personal favourites, a sweet baby-blue confection with small gems sewed meticulously within. "Outrageous. Have it burned, my wife will not be seen in things as skimpy as th-"

"Shut up!" You can't recognise your shout. "Just keep your mouth shut for a moment, won't you?"

He advances upon your retort, eyes glittering. "What did you just say to me?"

"I will not go to Sicily with you." You say resolutely.

He starers at you for a moment, then bursts into laughter. "You? Turning Sicily down? How amusing."

"I'll never go anywhere with you." You snap, backing away. The maids hesitantly put down their work, then proceed to leave the room, leaving just the two of you.

"Don't be ridiculous, wife," Nathaniel says condescendingly. "Sicily would be good for us to start over. Too many nuisances here."

As he laughs and returns to selecting clothes, you scoff. "You're one to talk. You ruined my life, you took everything dear to me away."

He throws down the possessions, a loud shout bouncing off the walls. "Understand one thing. You are nothing, you understand? I could crush you and all that you have under my boot all in a day's work."

You push back, enraged. "Don't you project your emotions and problems on me. Junhui was right. You don't know any part of me. Not what I love, you're nothing that any sane person wants or needs. You're human vitriol."

"Junhui, Junhui, Junhui," Nathaniel sneers. "So you do know he's in love with you. Why else would you allow him to poison your mind? That pest--"

You punch him in the mouth.

You punch your husband, a rich and influential merchant's son, square in the mouth.

Now, you're not a strong woman, and in any fight, you'd be knocked out like a light. But given that Nathaniel did not expect any form of violence or pushback from you, when he was so close to taking you to Sicily permanently, he stumbles back in surprise and clutches his jaw.

Taking advantage of his confusion, you run.

You run and run and run, to the stables, upon a mare, and urge it out towards Junhui's estate.

So you do know he's in love with you.

This was the only time you wanted -- yearned -- to believe Nathaniel Park.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

"You must think my home is a vacant shelter," Junhui comments as he lets you in.

He stiffens when you say nothing. "What is going-"

"Junhui." You lock eyes with him, firm and headstrong. "Are you in love with me?"

He stops moving entirely for five moments before chuckling. It sounds so artificial.

"No, that idea is repulsive."

"Junhui-"

"No."

"Junhui." You take his hands and plead. "Tell me the truth, and only the truth. Is it true, that you are in love with me?"

He tries swatting your hands away. "Please stop. Leave."

"I will the second you tell me that you are not in love with me. I will disappear from your sight for the rest of my life, I will leave for Sicily without looking back, and I will never return. Just answer me, just this once. Are you in love with me?"

His resistance snaps as he whirls to you.

"I've been crazy for you the moment I laid eyes on you!" He chokes out, eyes burning with emotion, hands flying to wipe furiously at them. "I couldn't fathom the thought that you hated me from the moment you saw me, goodness knows why, but I figured -- if that was the only way I'd see you for who you were, wild and free and beautiful, instead of the other ladies in court who put up facades to be around me -- I'd take it all. Whatever you gave me, I'd take and play along."

He swallows before he continues. "And yet it wasn't enough. Competing on and off the stage with you. I was in Rome when I received word of your union with that...that monster. I hated myself then. I regretted immensely that I had not asked for your hand before someone else did. I must have been complacent that you would always be around."

"Y-You...you never sought me out." You say softly, stunned at the revelation.

"It was a marriage between a renowned merchant's son and the world's best violinist, celebrated by all... I could not compare. Love would not cut it. Love would never cut it."

You could not help but cup his face, wiping the tears that leaked from his earnest eyes. "I truly believed you would find happiness with that man, treasure. I genuinely wished you well, even if it broke me." He whispers.

"And then you turned up at my gates, with bruises on you and a horrific story to tell," He continues, clenching your hands in his, "Yet I had to watch you, and let you return to that son of a bitch of your own will just so your family could live in peace!"

His body, now racked in sobs, crumples to the ground, bringing you with him as you cradle his head, tears of your own now dripping down your face. "Here you are now, one step away from moving to Sicily as you dreamed, asking me if I am in love with you? My beloved, is that really a question, or simply a confirmation?"

He looks up at you, eyes rimmed in red. "I cannot burden you with my emotions now. Not when you're achieving your dreams. Not when you and yours are suffering under the world's scrutiny. I love you so deeply that I know I cannot do that. If I cave into my emotions... you will be shackled to me, and I cannot have that on my account."

"No." You interrupt. His eyes raise to meet yours, as if in disbelief at what he was hearing.

"I plan to leave Nathaniel. All future plans are gone, and we will not be going to Sicily."

His eyes dilate in shock. The world goes silent, and it's just the two of you.

"I...I spoke to my mother. Way before today. About what you said. A lot of it was what you said." Your voice sounds foreign, so strange to your own ears. "I told her that I would settle the deal and anything we owe in any other way that would not require my happiness as a trade. I told her...I could not bear to let people who did not care if I lived or died dictate how I spend my days. I showed her the wounds he gave me. And I told her how you healed them."

He could not speak, could not move. The fact that you had decided to show your suffering to the one person you did it all for... he did not know whether to praise or cry at your bravery. That you, terrified yet adamant, had made a choice that would finally change the trajectory of your life.

You take a deep breath. Clasp his shaking hands in yours as you find your next sentence.

"You know this. The current divorce bill has always favoured men. In this age, no matter how big I am, no matter how much proof of how awful he is, society will only ever choose him over me. I have every intention to leave that monster, but it will be a tedious, arduous task, and I cannot promise anything out of it -- but what I can promise is that if you want me, you have me. Wholeheartedly, even if hell bestows its wrath upon us, my heart will always be yours. It..."

He waits with bated breath for your next words, his grip on your hand just as unwavering as your will.

"It must have been yours from the moment you pushed me to leave. You were the only one who saw me as anything more than a trophy wife, even with everything I threw your way. I only realised too late... that what I need isn't someone who would speak behind my back, or only support me from the sidelines."

His hands reached up to your face, trembling, cold, so full of emotion he felt like he would combust.

"I need someone like you to stand with me. I need you, Junhui."

It was all he ever wanted to hear. For the longest time, ever since he could remember. Just the thought that you might want him, competitor and all, shakes him to the core.

He grabs you and pulls you to him, hands gripping your waist. Tears form once more in his eyes as he shuts them and presses his mouth firmly to yours, and you can taste the salty tang of them on your tongue as you wrap your hands around his shoulders and tug him towards you. He smothers any remaining space between you -- not that there was much at all -- and wraps his arms wholly around you.

You both enjoy how you mold into each other so, so perfectly -- like a major scale, like a perfect chord, like the coda of your favourite orchestral symphony. One kiss against the next, the tune of your heart swelling into a brilliant crescendo.

You stay like that, lost in the throes of passion, heads tilting to accommodate each other, and when he finally pulls away, leaving you breathless as you meet his eyes, his expression changes into one of such deep love and joy, tears spring into your eyes again.

He draws you into a warm embrace, stroking the back of your head as you find solace in his arms. "Do not weep, treasure. I need you to stay with me, because after all these years of butting heads with each other, you are finally mine."

And as the darkness of the night descends upon the land, neither of you make any move to let go, because Junhui was right.

After all this time, of fighting and being at odds, you were where you really belonged.

With the man whose career you once swore to end, yet the only person who managed to play his way into your heartstrings.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

"And you must still leave, because?" Junhui is frowning, evident even with his head down, playing with your fingers. You look at him longingly.

"To finish what I have started, Junhui," You murmur, looking at him. "There is to be a court hearing, and only then will I know if I can leave him."

He only frowns further. "And you will be going alone?"

"My mother will be coming with me. I would need support."

His expression does not relax as you hoped, as he continues, "I presume I cannot go?"

"The court would be even less in my favour if you were to show up. Imagine the scandal it would cause!" You reply, chuckling as you fiddle with the silk material on his waistcoat, soft and fluffy against your rough fingers. "Why? Can't get enough of me already?"

"Shut up," He replies instantly, voice bitter. "If you had just married me before and not bothered with him, you could've avoided all of this."

"It was arranged, you idiot! And I wonder, who was the one who didn't ask for my hand and pined about it on his own?"

"I did not pine!" He defends immediately. "I could have you thrown out for such slander, you know."

"You keep telling yourself that, Junhui," You reply, smiling slightly. "How was I to know you wanted to marry me from the start?"

"You had your head up in your ass, trying to win a competition that didn't exist," He responds without missing a beat, grinning devilishly, and now you were ready to release a string of curses that would make your poor mother weep.

"Listen here, you little-"

He takes your raised fist and holds it easily in his own.

You scowl deeply. "What do you want from me now?"

"I want you to decide for yourself. Go and do what you have to for your own happiness. If you decide you do not want me-"

A slap to his chest leaves him stunned.

"Are you actually lacking in intelligence somewhere up there?" You hum. "You're much more an idiot than I thought."

"What?"

"I spilled all I had in my mind to you, you nincompoop." You mutter. "I want you. I will only want you from here on out. Don't be stupid."

"Do you mean it?"

"That you're stupid? Without a doubt."

"You know what I mean." He holds your gaze. That in itself has you gaping in mock hurt.

"Do you not trust my words in the slightest?" You ask incredulously. "My, what do you think of me?"

He raises his eyebrows. "After the past ten years? You want me to be honest?"

You slap his chest again indignantly and he laughs.

"Junhui," You say, softer than ever before, and he looks back at you, eyes shining. "I mean it all. Down to the last word. Please... believe me."

He'd never heard so much as a request from you, never mind a 'please'.

"I do. Gods... I do. More than anything." He cups your face affectionately, and you melt at the touch. He seems as though he's gearing himself up to say something, and after a few moments, he finally loosens his tongue.

"From now to the end, I will wait. I'll be right here. No matter the number of waltzes and music I must grace this ridiculous society with, you must promise, promise, you will come back for me." He leans into your hold, and the intimacy, the gentleness Nathaniel never once provided, makes you blink back tears.

"I will." You say. No more word play or snarky responses. Your promise hangs between the two of you, strong as the red string of fate shining between your interlinked fingers, bright as the days ahead.

With Junhui by your side.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1875, April 2nd

Resounding applause booms through the concert hall. Junhui takes his final bow as the stage closes. Women were swooning, men applauding the prodigy violinist that finally graced the stage of Jahn's Hall. People waving could be seen wherever Junhui looked.

Show-off, you think to yourself. Yet, your legs betray you, standing up to carry you to the wings of the back-stage.

You handle your gown with ease, your feet carefully navigating through throngs of Junhui's well-wishers, the people manning the operations, all the way to the back where you saw clearly a large crowd forming.

Where the crowd was largest was where Junhui would be.

You pick at the bouquet in your hands in slight hesitation, until a man you recognise from many concert halls catches sight of you and promptly yells, "If it isn't Miss Y/N! Another wonderful musician in our midst! Freshly back from the courts eh?"

You shoot him a small smile and a nod, and he immediately starts elbowing people out of the way. "Out of the way, folks! She must be here for Mr Wen. The rumours are true, so move, fellas!"

Slowly, the crowd dissipates, fading to the sidelines, until Junhui notices the strange crowd movement. He looks up from his conversation with another man, and he freezes in his spot when he sees you.

Heart thumping so loud you can't hear anything else, you raise the bouquet (you searched for the perfect arrangement for almost a week, but you would carry that secret to the grave) and with a smirk on your face, you drawl, "Missed me?"

The crowd bursts into noise, full of clamouring and people shouting. Through it all, you pay them no attention, your focus only on the man in front of you, staring as though he's never seen you before.

Junhui stays stock-still for a few moments. You're starting to think he doesn't want you here.

"I know I did not write to tell you I was returning, but I can explai-"

The greatest violinist of the age strides over to you, captures your face in both his warm hands and kisses you.

You can feel him shaking as he presses himself tightly into your embrace, your foreheads almost touching.

"Seven months," He rasps out, pressing kisses on your mouth between each word. "Seven months and not a word from you. I imagined you'd run off with another man."

"Who else could have infiltrated my mind as you can?" You choke a laugh, reciprocating him with equal fervour. "Day and night, I ached to write to you, but I could not jeopardise my position in the court hearing."

"And what was the outcome?"

"Of what?"

"You know very well what!" He says, drawing away from you but keeping you locked still in his hug. "What of the case?"

You stay silent and his smile fades. "You are frightening me, treasure."

You laugh at that, unable to keep up the facade. "Ruled in my favour. We have signed the separation papers, and I am a free woman."

He shouts out something intelligible, and wraps you up in another bone-crushing hug which you happily return.

"I am glad I kept my promise," You murmur as he sways you around, lost in the joy of you back by his side. You hardly notice the hum of activity as someone ushers the crowd out of the room. "I hate to say this, but it may have been the best decision of my life."

"You say that now, treasure," He teases back before looking at you, puzzled. "What promise? As I recall, you did not write to me at all."

"That I would come back for you," You answer, without missing a beat. "That promise echoed in my head, every single day. When I stood my case, when I went to listen to an orchestra play the first day after learning I'd won. When I hastened my departure and my mother told me to be happy, all I thought of was coming home to you."

He pulls back and looks at you, eyes slightly glassier than they were before, and the brightness in his expression, the love in it, etches itself in your mind permanently.

"And you are home with me now."

"I am."

"You are not leaving me again, treasure. It is an order."

"You sound sappy. Stop that right this second."

"You started it first, darling. Your promise echoed in your head? Really?"

"You're insufferable. I hope you know that."

"Remind me when we marry. You love me anyway."

You sigh, half-helpless and half-fond, and reach up to rake your hands through his hair.

"I do. Gods... I do. More than anything."

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1946, November 11th

"Hang that over there, please. Right at the centrepiece of the fireplace."

"Here, madam?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Treasure, you look at this portrait too many times in a day."

"Be quiet. This was the only good decision you made in our lives."

"You say that now. What of marrying me? Was that not the best thing you did?"

"The worst decision of my life, I can assure you."

"You're a terrible liar."

"I hate you."

"Love you too, treasure."

"..."

"You're smiling."

"I am not!"

"The curve of your lips won't go down. You are not sneaky."

"Shut up. I told you we should go see the classical group before they leave tomorrow."

"Don't distract me. We can look at the picture a little longer. It isn't time to go yet."

"Ah...finally, something good coming out from your mouth."

"The same mouth that kisses y- ow! My face!"

"Not another word!"

"Fine! God, you horrible lady."

"Fine, you wretched man!"

Shaking his head and smiling, the man, much older now, but with the same charming smile and earnest eyes, reaches his arm out to wrap it around his wife, tongue still sharp from their youth, yet still the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. She lets him embrace her, even leaning back semi-reluctantly, to his great amusement.

"Look at that," The lady marvels. "Look how wonderful the artwork is, Junhui. Goodness, I still remember the whole day."

"The best day of my life, treasure," The man responds gently. "I'll never forget."

Snug in each other's arms, the couple looks on, at the memory of their younger selves. The time has come and gone, but the days ahead of them are still as bright, the memory of this portrait just as vivid as ever.

The portrait of a beautiful young woman and a tall, dashing young man, sitting together on their wedding day, arms interlinked and smiles forever etched on their faces. Two violins sit next to each of them, and a small plaque attached below the portrait reads:

"Commissioned: Wen Junhui and Y/N L/N, March 7th 1876."

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

author's note:

SURPRISE FIC in the middle of “This Summer”!!

i play the violin, so i was veeerrry excited to write one about music!! especially a period romance?? yes pleaaaasee

thank you for reading! 🎻🤍 feedback is always welcome :”)

[surrealitea]

Trigger warnings: fem! reader, pm! dazai, angst, blood, death, guns, alcohol, angry at waitress (abusing staff is never okay), dazai-typical suicide comments, please comment if I'm missing anything

Belladonna: silence

Word count: 3.8k

Author notes: This have been in my drafts since late November and I wanted to get it out before I turned 19 (that didn't exactly happen), so here's a birthday gift from me to you. I also apologise because all my other Dazai drafts are also angst.

The rain started to pick up but neither of the two teens bothered to pull out an umbrella, not that they had one, or take cover beneath the restaurant awnings. They welcomed the light shower which soaked their clothing and prevented the blood that coated it from permanently staining the garments. Trailing behind the bandaged young man, who skilfully avoided the lit streetlights which would reveal the darkened red patches to an innocent passer-by, was a young girl of the same age in equally dark clothing.

“Have you ever considered leaving the Port Mafia?”

The question made the boy’s artful steps pause as he turned to his companion.

“Why? Do you plan on leaving me, Belladonna?” he teasingly replied with that classic ambiguous smile that never got close to reaching his eyes.

The girl paused, lips parted slightly as if to say something but shut just as quickly. She stood there facing him, however her eyes never met his unbandaged one, instead staying fixated on the straightness of his nose and pointiness of his jaw. After a moment of pause, the answer followed.

“Of course not, I could never leave you… till death do us part.”

The boy’s piercing stare didn’t soften. The answer was hardly satisfying considering the prolonged pause used only by those yet to master the art of lying. He said nothing though, and simply turned back around, relieving the suffocating atmosphere that unnerved the weary office worker unfortunate enough to pass by them in that moment.

The pair continued their walk once more under the starless night sky whose hopeful twinkles were slaughtered by the insomniac-inducing brightness of city-light neon.

The office door closed with a slight click as the person failed in their attempt to enter unnoticed. The man that sat conceitedly in the plush leather chair, which looked out of the floor-to-ceiling windows, turned his calculative eyes upon his visitor.

“Ah, Dazai, what brings you to my office?”

“Why did you give orders to execute Y/N without consulting me?”

“Come now, you are smart enough to already know why.”

“I won’t let you.”

“Why? Because she is your girlfriend? Surely you aren’t foolish enough to actually fall in love.”

Dazai gave no response, only hardening his glare at the man still seated in the plush throne of an armchair.

“As an executive you should already be aware that such relationships are a weakness not needed in the Port Mafia.”

Silence from Dazai continued to pervade the room as his stare took on a bloodthirsty edge which would have unnerved anyone else.

“Let me handle this, there is no reason for you to involve others when she is my subordinate.”

“No, another executive will be tasked with the mission of eliminating Y/N and you are not to interfere. Should your personal feelings get in the way then I will have no choice but to take disciplinary action against you.”

Knowing he no longer had room to argue with his superior, Dazai reluctantly resigned from the verbal battle. Though he was sure to leave the with the stench of unfinished business, and a clear promise of defiance which certainly wasn’t his brightest idea but not regrettable to the boy.

With the insolent slam of the office door, Mori picked up the phone beside him and dialled a number. It didn’t ring long before a familiar snarly voice answered the call. “Chuuya, could you come to my office?”

The tight dress felt constrictive around the girl who was used to her looser work clothes that provided the freedom of movement needed for her line of work. The boy opposite her, who stayed in his usual attire despite his request to dress up, busied himself with the menu although it was obvious that no words were being comprehended. The girl’s menu, wrapped in an elegant black leather cover characteristic of such a high-end restaurant, stayed in its neat form, untouched.

Without ever having removed his eyes from the cream tinted paper, “Are you not going to order, Belladonna? You’ve been staring into space for the past fifteen minutes.”

She startled out of the daydreams that violently consumed her like a starved beast and shakily grabbed the menu from its resting place only to tear apart the binding with more brutality than necessary. She quickly flicked through the pages while restlessly shuffling, from the overpriced entrees that wouldn’t be more than a mouthful to the extensive wine selection flown in from every famous vineyard in Europe, none of the elegantly printed words registered to her frazzled brain still drowned in its own paranoia heavy enough to block out the world around her.

She was saved seconds into reaching the last page by the waitress that seated them that evening and had already been waved off by Dazai prior for the two guests were then still indecisive. With a practiced upturn of the lips she patiently asked if they were now ready to order.

The boy closed the menu and handed it back to the woman, not once taking his eyes off the fidgety girl across from him, as he recited his order that consisted of the priciest steak and a bottle of vintage wine he definitely wouldn’t enjoy.

When silence followed his response, Dazai asked, “Belladonna, have you made a decision?”

The frazzled girl dared to glimpse at the eyes of her lover which she had until then avoided all evening so far. Dark pools of hollowness which took in everything they saw without giving away anything themselves caught hers and trapped them there inconsiderate of her pleas to look away.

“Belladonna.”

His voice took on a sharper commanding edge this time but still sounded light and teasing to any stranger.

“Uh, I- I’ll have the same, thanks.”

“An excellent choice, ma’am.” With that the waitress left the two teens to their uncomfortable silence.

Dazai’s mouth was moving, and the girl could just barely make out the hot air spilling from his mouth from their close distance. But his words never registered, blurred instead with the dozens of other patrons merrily chattering away till it became incomprehensible white noise. Her eyes drifted longingly to the door a dozen or so paces away and just barely obscured by the oriental plant that didn’t quite suit the establishment’s French aesthetic.

“-re you listening to me? Belladonna? I’m recounting my brush with death here, and you’re spacing out? Do you not care about me anymore?!”

The buzz finally subsided into a medley of words again, and the girl was confronted with the pouty face of her lover           whom she starred confusingly back at with owlish, empty eyes still not quite present.

“… I’m listening, you were talking about-“

She was thankfully saved by the waitress who had returned with the exorbitant wine comfortably blanketed by a bucket of ice and was placed at the edge of the table. She took the already uncorked bottle and poured the bloody liquid into two glasses then elegantly wiped the nozzle on a white cloth, the colour bleeding into the pure shade, before slightly bowing and leaving them to savour the ambrosia.

As Dazai lifted the glass toward his date in preparation of a toast, the last few drops were already sliding down the glass and past rouge painted lips.

“Belladonna, you’re meant to savour such wines. You’re lucky that slug isn’t here to chew you out for such barbarism,” he teased as his own lips kissed the glass only to slightly pucker at the unaccustomed sweet fruitiness not found in his usual choice of poison.

Now drowned in a strained silence once again, and with no attempt made by his partner to break it, Dazai decided to make the first move and asked, “how was your day, Belladonna? I was so busy overseeing a weapons shipment that I never got to visit you.”

“Oh, it was fine, just the usual boring paperwork regarding mission reports and such.”

“Aww! And without me there to entertain you it must have been so boring you were willing to finally join me in the afterlife to escape this oxidising world’s mundanity!”

An empty, sad chuckle left her chewed-up lips at the Dazai-typical comment as she placed the glass down that was already half empty of her second drink.

“No, not yet. There are still things I want to do with my life, places I want to see once I’m finally free.”

The unnoticeable twitch on Dazai’s lips lasted no more than a split second, though whether it was a smile or a frown not even the demon himself could tell. “Free? And what exactly do you mean by that, my Belladonna?”

The poor girl didn’t get out more than a few frantic stutters before they were interrupted by the waitress again who had arrived with two steaming plates of their finest cuts personally cooked by their renowned head chef himself. A look of blissful relief painted the girl’s countenance at the sudden end to a tense interrogation.

Dinner was shrouded in silence as the two quietly ate their meals while the steak was still juicy and tender, and salad still fresh and crispy. Dazai had scoffed his down with a little too much vigour (probably being the first thing he’s eaten today, maybe yesterday too), and with only a few mouthfuls to go finally looked to his partner. She, on the other hand, had barely touched her food, and was currently chewing with about as much enthusiasm as someone forced to eat sand.

“What’s wrong, Belladonna? Is the food not to your liking? You look like the slug whenever we’re forced to work together.”

“Oh, um- it’s a little dry, I guess…” she stuttered, avoiding eye contact with the boy in front.

“Really? It looks fine to me. Here, let me try some.”

The girl frantically grabbed the plate and yanked it away from the outstretched hand, the knife fell in the process with a deafening clatter. Two pairs of owlish eyes met, though one had a touch of fear that the demon could definitely discern. Sheepishly, the girl returned the plate back to the table and collected the knife from the floor while avoiding the impassive eyes of her partner.

Another minute of tense silence was thankfully broken by Dazai as he waved down the waitress.

“My dear Belladonna here says the steak is dry. Bring the chef out so he can fix this abomination, I can’t go serving anything but the best to my Belladonna.”

“Oh! Of course, Sir. I’ll bring him here right away, Sir. I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” the waitress hysterically apologised with overly exaggerated bows to the two.

“Ah- No! It’s fine, really! The steak isn’t that bad actually, and I wouldn’t want to cause them any more trouble.”

“Belladonna,” Dazai’s strict chastisement shut the girl up. “If it’s not to your liking then say so. You’ve been a mess all evening, it’s getting annoying.”

A muffled sorry escaped bitten lips.

“What are you still doing here? I already gave you an order.”

The waitress, who till now had been watching the two, turned around in a panic to escape the wrath of the demon before her.

“You know what, it’s fine, I’ve lost my appetite. Belladonna, we’re going.” Dazai stood up with a loud clatter and grabbed his partner’s hand to drag her away from the teary-eyed waitress fearing for her employment.

 “Ah! Dazai, wait!”

The boy turned around, only to address the waitress that was too distressed to move. “You can charge our meal to my dog, Chuuya Nakahara, when he visits this weekend,” he proclaimed, before promptly storming out of the fine-dining establishment. The mood, already soured by the earlier commotion, felt even worse now as all the staff were already well aware of the rumours surrounding his reputation.

The cool breeze nipped and chilled the girl’s bones to ice as her jacket was sadly left abandoned on the side of her chair back inside. Her wrist was still being painfully clenched in the vice grip of her partner who clearly had no intention of loosening his hold.

“Hey, um- thank you for tonight. Though, I need to go now, I have an early mission tomorrow and am really tired.”

“I want to take you somewhere,” Dazai interrupted as he stared absently into the distance.

He started walking off into the pitch black yonder, and while his grip slightly lessened it did nothing to ease the hand-shaped bruise forming, nor the tempest of anxiety in her stomach.

The full moon, tinted an eerie blue, illuminated the abandoned warehouse and its surroundings just enough to make out the outline of a young man in a pitch-black coat. Obscured in the shadows was his partner, the young girl of the same age in equally dark clothing. A gentle breeze tickled the two’s hair enough to send a chill down the shadowed body’s spine (or was it the boy’s stare?). 

“Have you ever considered leaving the Port Mafia?”

The question made the girl’s eyes widen as her muscles tensed in trepidation. 

“Of course not, I could never leave you.”

She tried her best to hide behind a smile, but the rueful upturn of her lips easily gave away her secrets to the boy who could read her like a book.

“Then tell me what you were thinking of when you colluded with the Special Division?”

The girl wasn’t stunned by the statement that she had already known was coming, though it certainly didn’t help her prepare for this situation. She  stood in silence, no longer worried about the chilly evening that didn’t bother her anymore, instead more concerned for her trembling soul being consumed by the red-eyed demon.

“Answer me!”

His response lacked the subtle warmth and adoration it once had, to the point she thought all of their history together was just  an unrealistic dream that would never come true. And maybe that was so because…

Now all the fear that had been building up in her stomach and tormenting her mind was finally on full display at the sight of that all-too-familiar tarnished silver barrel. She flinched. Not the subtle jerks she had been giving all night whenever he said her name, but a jolt backwards like she was prepared to flee.

She wanted to throw up. Spill the pricey contents that unsettlingly filled her stomach across the gravel below.

She wanted to run away. Leave her life and everything- the good and the bad- behind to start anew in a foreign country far, far away from the Port Mafia.

That was the plan after all. But what did it matter now? What did it matter now that she was cornered by the man who used to whisper sweet nothings into her ear under sweaty sheets, the man who now forced her to either stare down the imposing loaded barrel waiting to dole out her inevitable fate, or the demonic, unfamiliar, red eye.

She wanted to breakdown and cry. Maybe his non-existent heart would have just enough pity to end her suffering quickly rather than continue this pointless torment. But what was she expecting from the mafia’s greatest torture specialist, the demon prodigy himself? He was probably relishing in her suffering, quietly laughing behind those watery eye mocked her for naively believing their relationship was ever truly real to him.

She wanted to give up. So tired of all these mind games and bloodshed that maybe she knew this was the only true way to release her soul from the bloodstained underworld, from all this worldly suffering she regrets enduring.

The click of the safety being turned off broke the agonizing silence. The muzzle pointed between her eyes at an almost point-blank range that even a blind man couldn’t miss. Most in her situation would be on their knees by now pathetically begging for their lives as they lie through their teeth about some loving family they can’t bear to part with, however she just stood there. Eyes were murky with tears that refused to fall, and a defeated smile graced the lips that he wished to kiss such sorrow off of because they only ever deserved joy.

“I love you, Osamu.”

The sorrowful crow whose beady black eye had silently judged the scene took flight in a frenzy as the gentle thud disturbed it. The dark liquid which miraculously until now had yet to stain the girl’s dark clothing soaked the black cotton a disturbing wet colour till the original shade disappeared in its entirety.

A barely visible stream of smoke rose from the hot muzzle as it rested by the side of the heartbroken lover.

The silence that followed suffocated the midnight air which took on the faintest hint of an irony scent.

“You can come out now, Chuuya, the deed is done.”

The shadow clad figure hesitated but didn’t seem surprised by the address from his partner. Unmistakeable orange locks came into the moon’s view for the first time since arriving at the warehouse as their owner floated down from the cracked window on the second floor.

“I didn’t think you would actually go through with it,” the ginger apprehensively replied.

“Oh come on, Chuuya, we’re partners, you should know me better than anyone, that a demon can’t fall in love.”

“Then why do you look like you’re about to cry?”

Dazai never answered Chuuya. Never spat back a teasing comment like usual to raise the ginger’s short temper in hopes of him kicking the bucket from high blood pressure. Dazai never even looked his way.

Instead, his right arm started to lift. The heavy object weighty in his hold, and the slight sizzle to his temple unpleasant, though it didn’t matter when all would be over soon. Nothing mattered anymore now that the heart that once beat for you both had gone silent at his own hands.

He was ready. Always had been for the past eighteen years. All he had to do was pull this trigger and-

“Hey!”

A swift kick to the wrist was all it took for the gun to fall from his grip with a resonant thud.

“Geez! If you were going to take it this badly why’d you kill her at all, you clearly knew I was following you.” The chihuahua’s barking never registered to his ears which still rang with the sound of his yet-again failed attempt.

“Oi, are you even listening to me?!” It was clear by the lightless eye that he was not. Chuuya seriously didn’t understand why he still bothered with this enigma of a man. Even if he was the only one who could read him, Dazai still managed to dumbfound him at times.

Though, looking back on his meeting earlier in the day, he supposed the outcome was inevitable.

“Chuuya,” the mafia don started the second his office door clicked shut, “I have a mission for you.”

“What is it, Boss?”

“I want you to eliminate Y/N. She has been caught leaking important documents to the Special Division in hopes of defecting from the mafia under their protection.”

The words clearly shocked the young man as his mind raced with any possibility that such a statement was untrue. He had met the girl several times while in the company of their mutual, Dazai, and was never once struck with any suspicion of possible disloyalty from her. Afterall, she was (somehow) the Demon Prodigy’s lover, and Chuuya knew that despite his general laziness toward work his partner would never tolerate betrayal to both him and the organisation. But Chuuya also knew better than to question the words of the boss as the former doctor would always, always prioritise the organisation’s security no matter the cost.

“I’ll see to it that it’s done,” was all the ginger could respond with.

“Chuuya… Dazai will try to interfere, you don’t have to stop him, just make sure that the task is completed. Afterall, I’m sure he won’t risk his position over some senseless feelings that need to be purged.”

With that, the young man was dismissed from the office and sent on his way to end the life of his work partner’s cherished lover.

“hehehe hahahaha!”

Chuuya was broken from his thoughts by the deranged laughter in front of him.

“Oh, hat rack, did you honestly think I could ever fall in love? Someone like me isn’t capable of such senseless feelings… no, if they do exist, they should be purged or else I might start seeing a point to living.” His tone was kept light the whole time, even his partner somehow bought it, though deep down he wasn’t entirely fooled by the lack of eye contact and the brunette’s quivering shoulders.

They stood like that for some time, in the silence of midnight which ate up the distant noise of Yokohama’s always bustling nightlife. They ignored the corpse not even five feet from them despite knowing they would have to call the cleaner to dispose of it and the blood which had somehow dried despite its unsettling size, a testament to how long they stood there.

Eventually, the silence and the cold became too much for Chuuya who had started to make his way back to the busy streets and toward home. But he stopped after only a few paces.

Dazai had not moved from his position, not even looked toward his partner, and instead opted to continue staring into the jet-black sea that perfectly reflected the moon’s azure glow.

“Hey… you coming or what?”

All he got was a hollow hum of approval in reply, though it still took Dazai another minute to finally set off. Chuuya never tried to leave without him despite his muffled grumbles of “damn, it’s cold,” and “hurry it up already.”

As they finally set off, Dazai couldn’t help but stop beside the cold body of his once lover. Her skin a ghostly pale- even for a corpse- and a clear icy blue tint to her lips that even his favourite vibrant red lipstick couldn’t disguise. And yet she was still the most beautiful woman to ever grace his sight, and probably ever will in his (hopefully) short, pitiful life.

“Don’t worry, my dear Belladonna. I’ll join you in hell soon.”

And as if it was a careless afterthought, whispered to the winds, the boy didn’t even realise the words escaped his lips.

“I love you.”

Extra (because I really wanted this in but didn't want to ruin the vibe):

“Oh, and I’m not paying for your meal, stupid mackerel, or sharing the rest of this bottle with you after you wasted it.”

“Aww, but as my dog, it’s your duty to serve your master.”

“You- I’ll kill you!”

[muzicgenerator]

Hey, can I request an angst story with Bill and reader (the reader is female) abt crazy fans please? Like them (Bill and the reader) admitting somewhere (idk maybe in an interview for a magazine) that they almost broke up because of that (maybe reader's fanbase is known for being "too much" sometimes like following the reader everywhere, being so in love with her etc)

(Also could the story take place in the 2000s please?)

Goodbye 👋

i like this one im actually excited abt writing this one shot

btw im so sorry for late reply AHSJHFKDHDK please expect ill take like AT LEAST a week to answer yalls request bc im busy as hell w school 😭😭 love u guys pls understand

and again this aint entirely proof read

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

Too Much?

✮

Pairing: Bill Kaulitz x Fem Reader

Genre: Angst, Mostly fluff

Warnings: Stalking, mention of nonconsensual touching, very embarrassing storytime from bill

Request Status: closed :(

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮ I'm Not Okay (I Promise) : My Chemical Romance

(Time set back in late November of 2007)

Being a famous actress since as a child was unbelievably tough.

You had worked so hard and expertly; you didn't even have time to spend your childhood properly.

Just at the age of 19 and you've finished numerous movies and series. A true self-made millionaire, really.

You and your ravenette boyfriend are currently doing an interview for a night show.

"So ____, wow! After a long pause from doing films you're finally gonna have one showing soon! How is it like? Being back and all; being the talk of the country."

In the past one and a half year you hadn't done any projects since you've decided to take a break for yourself. And now you're once again busy taping with film staff and directors for your new and upcoming Teenage Romance movie.

Rest assured it's not your typical boy-meets-girl or vice versa and they do sappy sweet stuff and get together kind of film; it has its own uniqueness that will surely be called as "One of 2000s greatest Teen Romance movies of all time."

"Oh, I feel great Hanna. I had a deserving break and I'm back to doing one of the things I love most. I'm even happier because I got my lover and his band to sing the theme song for the movie." You truthfully answered and chuckled by the end of your statement.

"How about you Bill? How are things with your band?" Hanna included Bill to the conversation.

At that, he smiled politely. "Everything's great with us y'know, we're still together and all. Which I'm grateful for."

After a few more minutes for pep talk; the blonde interviewer finally decided to get onto the exciting part of the show.

"And now, for the moment we've all been waiting for! Dunk Tank!" Hanna smiled widely at the selected crowd.

"Where in this game; you will pick someone from the crowd who will accompany you with this game.

Your selected teammate will ask any question they want; to which you will answer, and if you don't want to then they'll get a chance to throw a ball on the target. Where if they hit it, you'll fall down the tank."

Hanna excitedly announced despite having done this for the nth time.

"____ and Bill, play Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who goes first."

You knew you'd beat Bill since every single time you played it - he'd miserably lose.

"Oh, I'm confident in winning this one!" you proudly say.

"Just because you've beat me all the other times we played this, doesn't mean I'll lose now!" Bill accepted your challenge and laughed.

He was right. He won for the very first time.

"Oh my God! Did I seriously win?!" your black clothed boyfriend exclaimed.

"I only let you win this time because I felt sorry." you playfully rolled your eyes with a smirk.

"Whatever, I'm gonna choose now." he giggled and stepped closer to the crowd.

His fan girls were screaming at the top of their lings, begging to be chosen by him.

No, you weren't jealous. Not one bit. Sometimes Bill would even complain about you not being possessive of him from time to time and would think you're not as in love as he thought.

It's cute, really. Then you'll show him how much you love him through actions rather than words.

Bill chose a girl who seemingly looked two or three years younger.

The joyous girl screamed in surprise; "Oh my god! What?! Me??! SERIOUSLY??"

It made Bill giggle, "Yes, you! Now get down here!"

A body guard helped the girl down; and when she was no longer at the stairs she rushed Bill to hug him but abruptly stopped. "Hi oh my god you're more beautiful up close! Can I hug you?!" she says excitingly.

It made your heart flutter just how kinder your boyfriend's fans are compared to yours.

To say your fan base is crazy is an understatement. Many would harass you through nasty words or touching you with no consent; it didn't matter if they did that out of how much they "love" you, it was still disgusting.

"Um, yeah. Sure!" he hesitantly looked at you; his eyes asking for permission. To which you subtly nodded.

Again, your heart melted by how he's making sure you're okay with it. Honestly, you very much understood that being famous would mean people wanting to hug you or any form of physical contact. Plus, it's not like you can say no to Bill from hugging a fan; you'd be a scandal. And you knew Bill wouldn't have any other choice as well.

He wrapped an arm over her shoulders while she fully embraced him. Okay, you're a teensy bit jealous especially by the way she's holding him like he's her man.

But that was soon washed away when she turns to you.

"Hi! What's your name sweetie?" Hanna asked and put a mic on her mouth.

"My name is Pauline!"

Before Hanna could say anything further, Pauline beat her to it.

"____!! I'm such a big fan of you too! I've been watching your movies since forever." saying she's over the moon is definitely an understatement! This will definitely be a core memory.

Almost immediately you wrapped your arms around her back and squeezed her. This girl is definitely one of the most respectable and sweetest fan you've ever met.

Was it really low? Yes.

The audience cheered by how sweet you and Bill had been to the girl and by how jealous they were.

As Bill and Hanna chattered about God knows what; the girl leaned closer to you in order to ask a favour which no one can hear.

"Can I ask you to shout out my brother? He has a huge crush on you!"

"Sorry darling but we're in the middle of a show right now. How about later I ask the staff to send you to the backstage? Then I'll give him my magazine with an autograph, and if you have a camera with you - you can video me saying hi to him!" you came up with a resolution.

Was it over the top? You didn't know and you didn't care. You're just fleeting with joy by how this girl isn't like any other of your fans.

"Seriously? You'd do that for me and my brother?" she gasped.

"Well, yeah. I mean it's not always that I have such nice interactions with people who are a fan."

"Okay lovebirds what are you two talking about there?" Hanna teased with a smirk and Bill playfully pouted.

"Nothing, nothing" you laughed and held Bill's arm as the crowd laughed and cheered.

"If you say sooo." she replied. "Alright, your turn to pick!"

You carefully looked around the crowd and walked five steps of the stairs to get a better view of the people on the back. A fifteen year old boy was holding a banner stating "Bill's No.1 Boy", it was cute, really. So you planned to steal your boyfriend's fan! (this a joke dont hate reader pls)

"The ginger at the back with the banner please." you said to the mic.

The boy squeeled in delight and threw his banner somewhere before running down to you. Your arms opened for an embrace which he immediately jumped into.

"What's your name?" you put the mic to his mouth as you both carefully went down the stairs and back to the stage.

"Sam, I'm Sam! My name is Sam!" his rather high pitched voice said.

"Okay, Sam. I know you're Bill's fan so I'm gonna have to steal you, that okay?"

"Hey, no fair!" Bill patted the boy's head and shot a smile at him.

This moment for him is definitely a core memory and will brag about it to every living human he sees.

"Now, who wants to go first in the tank?" Hanna asked.

"I'll do it" Bill says excitingly.

They agreed and the staff helped him get up. Once he were seated and adjusted in the circular surface; he challenge you.

"Ask a good one!"

"Ohohoo, we definitely will!" you smirked.

You turn to Sam and ask him without the mics near your faces; "What're you gonna ask your idol?"

"Oh uhmm, I don't really know." he says bashfully.

"Maybe his most embarrassing moment?"

"That'll work, definitely." you smile supportively and fist bumped him.

"Bill, you read?!" Hanna exclaimed.

"Born ready!!"

"Alright Sam, ask away!"

"What's the most embarrassing thing that's happened to you?" Sam asked with twinkles in his eyes.

"Oh, definitely when me and ____ weren't dating yet; she threw a sleepover party and she invited me and my mates, and there were three bathrooms, right? The three were being used and in one of those bathrooms it was Tom using it, and I had to rush him because I really needed to take a shit, like I couldn't hold it any farther!

So he went out really pissed and I pushed him off the door and quickly shut it and went right into business."

Bill paused and tried to compose himself as the crowd started to get louder.

"And when I washed and pushed the flush button - It wouldn't flush! So I got really scared because I just shit in my crush's toilet and I can't let anyone know that I'm the one who did it. So i looked around and saw a pack of pads so I took one of them; and forced myself to dip my hand down to grab it and I almost puked!

I look around and see there's no trash bin. So I panic again, and eventually decided I'll just rush down to throw it in the garbage in her garage. I quickly make a run for it and almost bumped into ___"

He now covered his hands in shame and embarrassment. "And she saw the pad in my hand! So she asked me like, 'Is that a pad?' and I'm like yes and so she asks whose it is...... and I said it's mine....."

You know of this story long ago; and it just gets better and better whenever you think or hear of it.

The audience and interviewer roared with laughter; as well as the staff behind and securities who tried to contain their smiles.

"I wish I never asked!" Sam wiped his tears from laughing too hard.

"Get down here Bill! That was too much!" Hanna's cheeks started to hurt, "Sorry to the viewers who are eating."

Bill went down immediately and squeezed the living life out of you. He does this whenever he's feeling embarrassed or nervous, and calls it his "Physical Support" from you.

"You should've let yourself get thrown in the water!" you giggled and hugged him back before he pulled away with a red face.

"Next goes ____!"

Once you were seated and made yourself comfortable on the seat; you tell them you're ready.

It was Pauline's turn to question whatever she wishes. "____, what do you think of your fans?"

She asks sincerely; she must've noticed something by the way you're like to your fan base and to Bill's. A part of you wished she hadn't asked but you've been dying to let the creepers out there know that whatever they'd been doing to you for a long long time - greatly affects you, especially as a young stat growing up in this sort of industry.

You rarely held any meet and greet, rarely had photos with fans where you look actually comfortable and where they weren't touching your waist or hips or near your ass - and ones where you do look comfortable it was mostly with girls or kids, which was not as often as when you do with the rest; who are pedophiles and creepy boys.

Of course you've always been nice when interacting with them; you didn't want to be rude and only wanted to be kind.

Definitely, there were times when you couldn't take it and couldn't do anything about it - other than cry and complain in your lover's arms.

You're forever thankful to have someone like him; he'd always listen to whatever you say and support everything you do.

Not realising; you zoned out quite a bit and snapped out of it when Bill called out your name with worry that he's trying to mask from everyone.

"Oh-, well, obviously I love them so much, if it weren't for them I wouldn't have succeed this much - of course the people who helped me get up in this industry as well.

I truly do appreciate their love and support, seriously. But quite the number of them are uh, how do I say this." you nervously chuckled as everyone listened intently to the tea you're telling.

"Crossing my boundaries? Yes, uh- that." you say not quite satisfied with the word you chose. It was evident that it's worse than just that but the safest.

"We all know people would cross it by taking unsolicited pictures of you, that's given because you're a celebrity, but are there some other ways they would? If you don't mind me asking of course." Hanna carefully asked.

You smiled softly, "Well a few have stalked me to my house - which I dunno how the hell they did so and took pictures of me and they'd send it to me and tell me how they thought of me. Some leave love letters, flowers, food in front of my gate, sent death threats to my exes when I was dating them and even now to my Bill." you left the worse parts out since you didn't want half of the world to be talking about your most private part of life. What you're even telling them now is a whole lot.

"Wow.. we all knew your fan base could get a bit crazy judging from all the videos we see and the news, but not by this much!" Hanna says empathetically.

"It happens, I guess." you try to laugh it off. However, Bill looked at your hues with his that sent the message of "Are you okay?"

In which yours replied with "I'm not okay."

✮✮✮

The game went on a for it was Pauline's turn to the dunk tank, then Sam's.

You continued your cheery self through the whole taping and told yourself you'll regret what you said later in your dressing room. Bill kept his distance close to you and would caress your hand or shoulder as a sign of support - as well as slipping a "How're you holding up?" every now and then.

If there were billions of ways to show gratitude to this man; you'd do every single one of it to him.

After the agonizing show was over; you and Bill kissed Hanna's cheeks as a goodbye and thank you. To which she said back to you both as well and wished to see you soon.

As you made your way to the dressing room in silence with your fingers intertwined with Bill's; you abruptly stop in your tracks.

"I almost forgot I have to sign a magazine for Pauline!"

Your lover looked confused for a second "What? Why?"

"I kinda promised Pauline I'll just sign a magazine for her brother because she asked me to shout him out while taping." you let a small huff and loosened your grip on your boyfriend's slender hand. "How about I'll see you later in the van? You can wait for me there instead if I haven't been back by five minutes."

Bill smiled, "Of course sweetheart, I'll see you later. Love you." he pecked your lips and lovingly looked into your eyes for a moment before heading to his dressing room.

Quickly; you asked a staff to bring Pauline to your dressing room to give her an autograph - to which they agreed to. Thankfully.

While they did that, you strided to your room and grabbed your magazine and marker - which immediately after doing so, a knock was heard on your door.

You hand held the paper as the other gripped the violet ink marker. When you did, you were greeted by a Pauline smiling widely with a camera on her right hand.

"Hi!" she says excitingly.

You greet back and quickly hugged her, "I see you have a camera with you."

"Oh, yes, uhm.. I was wondering if i can take a video of you signing an autograph? So my brother would believe me that it really is from you." she nervously giggled. "I might or might now have pranked him once by giving him a fake autograph."

"Yeah, sure. What's your brother's name?" you say softly.

"It's Percy." she answers as she readies her camera.

"Alright, is it rolling?" you ask with a smile on your face. Pauline says yes with a grateful smile; grateful for being how considerate and kind you are.

"Hi Paul! So I heard from your sister that you're a fan? Too bad you didn't come with her." you looked behind the camera to Pauline.

"And I heard she gave you a fake autograph of mine? Well now, you're getting a real one, and this is the proof." you say still giggling as you signed the magazine.

"There, and keep the pen. I gotta go now, bye and love you!" you say as you waved goodbye and gave your iconic kiss blow alongside a wink.

Once Pauline returned the camera back to her bag; she immediately thanked you.

"I'm serious - thank you thank you sooo much! And uh.. I'm really sorry if what I asked earlier was too personal. I really am. I was just curious and didn't thoroughly before it slipped my mouth." she noticed the change of the atmosphere long ago. Even if she's just fifteen, she knew how to read the room well.

"Aw, sweetie.. it's nothing." you pat her shoulder, "It's fine I tell ya, also I better get going - you should too, it'll get dark in just two hours. Bye bye and stay safe!" you wave goodbye as she still exclaimed thank you's as she walked backwards towards the exit.

(that footage is definitely gonna go viral after many years)

In a light speed; you gathered your essential belongings and had your personal assistant help you carry your other belongings to the van; to which Bill noticed through the windows that you're carrying back pack and a purse and immediately helped you despite having it under perfect control.

He opened the door for you and let you in first before him and closed the door. Your personal assistant sat in the passenger seat next to the driver, while you and your beloved were at the very back despite the space up front.

You rested your head on his shoulder and he put his above yours while he held your hand with both of his; tracing every outline, massaging it, and kissing it once in a while.

"R'you okay now?" Bill mumbled and kissed your head.

"Yes, hon. I'm great actually.. thanks so much for being there, I love you so much." you turn your head to face his and pecked his lips.

"I love you more than you'll ever know, I'm glad you're okay." he smiled genuinely and kissed you deep and passionate.

You returned to your head's original position and fell to sleep; not caring if tomorrow, you'll be the town's talk.

[smithlibrary]

Uncovering the biographies of some of the most fascinating lost and ruined buildings, an engaging compendium of 21 structures from around the globe, including The Tower of Babel, The Bastille, the Berlin Wall and the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center, is a unique guide to a world of vanished architecture.

Call number: 720 CRA

[grantmentis]

A lot of women’s hockey news and I wouldn’t be able to fit everything into screenshots so here is a summary

Most of these from Angélica Rodriguez, Erica Ayala, and Anne Tokarski’s twitter threads

-league looking to start in January, can go as late as may/June

-this year will be shorter and 24 games but should be 32 going forward. In future years season will start in November

-no team names or logos yet

-15 round draft, with a draft lottery, to determine who picks when, and then will be snake format.

-each team can sign 3 players before the draft, and then can fill out the rest in free agency after the draft

-players have until Sept 3 to declare for the draft on Sept 18 in Toronto

-rights of players are held on to for two years after draft, then they can re-enter the draft but the maximum amount of times they can be drafted is twice

-players can be traded this season, draft picks cannot be but will be starting next year

-players pool is 300~ players right now for who’s being contacted but players outside that pool can still declare for draft and aren’t necessarily uneligible

-the league has no plans to do a franchise model and right now mark and Kimbra Walter are the sole investors

-no rinks decided yet for games or practices it seems and multiple rinks may be in play in markets at least for this season. Says it’s possible New York team will actually play in jersey or Connecticut for some games. Nhl collaboration expected and wild writer Michael Russo says xcel energy center expected to be used. AHL and OHL rinks also considered

-no news on streaming but goal is to have all teams streamed

-transgender inclusion policy is being worked on but no collaboration plans with other orgs who specialize in trans rights were stated

-players may submit a Compassionate Circumstance Waiver Request that if the league approves allows them to be considered to only play in one specific market. The team(s) in that market would be the only ones allowed to negotiate a deal but wouldn’t be obligated to sign that player. (Not clear what would be required for that waiver to be approved but I imagine it may be in the CBA)

-CBA is here https://global-uploads.webflow.com/64d22f9c3617ad42d10d32f1/64ed721629f3b2cfe84c7a54_PWHL-CBA-thpwhlcom.pdf (I would like to summarize this as well when I am off work)

-11-13 full time staff for teams not including front office members

[tea-and-secrets]

When I was eight years old I was playing with my friends during lunch break and held off my need to pee for longer than I should have. Needless to say, when I did eventually run off, I did not make it. I spent a long time pacing in the stall wondering what to do, and only came out when the class bell rang. I didn't want to go back to class, because i knew it would be noticeable immediately, and I was panicking and ashamed. A few times I would peek out the door, hoping that the class across the hall would close the damn door. It never did. Eventually, I decided to just screw it, and walked out like I was going to return to class (they probably never noticed me there anyway, now that I think of it), but rather than walking toward my classroom at the end of the hall, I went out through the side door of the school, which led to the staff parking lot (I believe), closing it quietly behind me. Nobody stopped me. Everybody in that building was either in their classroom or the office. I just walked home like that. It was a weekday afternoon, and I lived in a pretty quiet suburban district, so the streets were completely empty. The only slight discomfort was from the chill, since it was late fall, and I had tied my jacket around my waist.

I knew my mom would be at home then. I pressed the keypad of the gate while crouching to avoid my face being caught on the camera, then snuck along the garden fence, imagining myself to be cleverly evading the cameras’ lines of sight. (Now, I realize my mom probably didn’t check them, but they were visible, so I HAD to sneak around like a little thief). The front door was locked; this i knew. Usually we went home through the garage, but it was old and creaky, and it was impossible to go through it without someone in the house noticing. I circled the house several times, cataloging the cameras, and trying the doors, even inspecting the lower windows. There was no entrance.

I realized what I had to do then: my mom picked up my brother and I at three, so while she was gone, I would sneak in through the garage and change, and probably take a shower. Plan made, all I had to do was wait. I had no phone or watch, and I couldn’t see the clock through the windows. It was a long and agonizing wait, just standing there outside in November for two or so hours.

Finally, I heard the garage door open. She was leaving. I went in. Now it might feel like the story ends here, but there were so many loose ends I didn’t think about. My mom was waiting with my brother at school for me until she tried to call home and I picked up, telling her I walked home early “just because”. My backpack was still hanging in the classroom, and I had to awkwardly tell her I accidentally left it behind (thankfully, she decided not to ask me further about it). I probably had homework I didn’t know about that I don’t remember now. My friends asked me why I disappeared suddenly without taking anything, and I had to give some sort of excuse along the lines of “emergency. Really big emergency.” My absence that afternoon wasn’t known by the school, and my friends questioned me on why my teacher didn’t know where I was. Thinking about it all now, it was an absolute wonder that I got away with it at all, but my teacher didn’t ask me any further questions about it, and my mom never even brought it up.

Anyway, that was the only time I ever ditched school.

.

[bobfloydsbabe]

FIC REC FRIDAY | november 10th 2023

happy birthday, mr. president – @rhettabbotts ↳ bob floyd x reader

WHY I LOVE IT

Most people will know Shelby from her Dilf!Rhett x Babysitter series and for good reason. However, the fic that jumped out at me while I put together my list of recommendations was this one. Bob being in a position of authority does things to me, and this fic was no exception. We’re dropped into an intimate moment between President Bob and his wife, and we immediately feel his desire for her. Sexual tension is present in every paragraph, and I particularly like the allusion to a prior discussion about kinks and roleplaying. Consent is key and I truly appreciate when writers add it. This one shot doesn’t try to be something it isn’t, and the build-up leaves readers on the edge of their seat, wondering what exactly Bob and Wife are going to try. Shelby includes enough details to give a sense of the setting and circumstances without overshadowing the main plot. It’s details such as Bob disliking parties so much that sneaks out of his own birthday bash after only 45 minutes, and the obvious trust between them and staff. I didn’t know I would find a man undoing his cufflinks sexy, but Shelby showed me I definitely do with this fic. The line that sealed this fic as one of my absolute favorites was “Let them see you beg your president to let you cum.” I lost it, and from there on out, Shelby gave readers a praise kink, slight bondage, slight degradation, a bit of edging, and most of all, Bob being a pussy eating king. Bob wiping his mouth afterward, too. I adored the addition of Wife asking Bob to moan for her, to be loud even if it would get them caught. I love that they’re getting it on in the Oval Office, and I love Bob talking about having babies running around the most powerful house in the United States. Apart from the deliciously filthy smut, the ending was my favorite part. Playful banter and a sweet full circle moment.

TOP 3 REASONS YOU SHOULD READ IT TOO

➛ President Bob Floyd. That's it. That's the reason.

➛ If you have a rank kink or an exhibitionism kink, this fic is for you. It's not the most obvious examples of this, but it's enough that it'll leave you satisfied. It certainly had that effect on me.

➛ This is a well-executed AU that doesn't try too hard to be realistic. As readers, we know it's a fantasy scenario that's unlikely to happen in the real White House.

A NOTE ON THE PROCESS

fics are assigned a number. i then use a random generator and recommend you the fic corresponding to the number the tool picks. all recs are my personal favorites. if there's an author whose work you think i should check out, please reach out.

JOIN THE TAGLIST

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TAGLIST: @anniesocsandgeneralstore, @callsign-magnolia, @desert-fern, @sylviebell, @blue-aconite, @wkndwlff, @callsignspark, @scarlettwidow19, @seresinsweetie, @teacupsandtopgun, @roosterforme, @fanficfandomlove, @bobgasm, @notroosterbradshaw, @nenelysian, @b-bradshaw, @cherrycola27, @kmc1989, @sweetwhispersofchaos, @keyrani, @ereardon, @sebsxphia, @withahappyrefrain, @laracrofted, @justameresimp, @yanna-banana

[imrowanartist]

While @narcissosbythepool and I are still working on this fic in it’s entirety, have one of the first scenes I wrote for it, in which Gaz finds out he’s pregnant

Aka the start of the Rosie AU

Tags: established PriceGaz, trans pregnancy, mention of abortion

-

November 9th, 20:26

“No, no, fuck-“

The stick drops from Kyle’s lax fingers and clatters to the floor, the sound echoing much too loudly in the tiny bathroom. With trembling hands he picks it back up, staring at the result again. Willing it to be anything else but the two pink lines that it’s currently showing.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he groans again, flinging the test away from him and leaning forward till his forehead is resting on his knees.

It all makes sense, of course. The way he has been feeling off for the past few weeks, like he’s been coming down with something. He’d attributed it to his missed doses of T at first- a longer op had prevented him from getting his meds on time— but after several weeks of continuous exhaustion, trouble sleeping, and nausea, even after he had caught up on his injections, had slowly started a different nagging thought in the back of his brain.

It wasn’t until this morning that he was finally able to bring himself to grab some tests at the closest drugstore, and then it’s still taken him several hours before he finally gathered his nerves and used the damn things. There’s no denying it now though.

He’s fucking pregnant.

He’s sitting on the floor of a dingy, shared bathroom in an unfamiliar base, in an unfamiliar country, about to head out on another mission, and he’s gotten himself knocked up by his bloody captain with whom he has an unsanctioned relationship.

Folding in on himself, Kyle can’t help the flood of embarrassment that washes over him at his own stupidity. He presses his forehead harder into his knees, hands grabbing at his hair as he stops fighting the tears threatening to spill.

He knows exactly when it happened. In a task force as specialized as theirs there’s not much time for hand-holding and romantic evenings, they take their moments when they can get them. And Kyle remembers distinctly how happy John had been to see him again after a three-week undercover stint in Austria last month.

He’s not an idiot. He’s been on birth control for just about as long as he’s been on T, but apparently, the universe has decided to throw him a fucking curveball anyway.

A few almost hysterical chuckles escape between his tears and right now Kyle couldn’t feel further removed from the highly trained operative he’s supposed to be.

What the bloody hell is he gonna do with a baby? The thought of being pregnant is already terrifying him for several different reasons, but raising a kid? He can’t do that. Not with the blood he and John have on their hands. It wouldn’t be right.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, trying to blank out his racing mind and failing miserably when a knock on the door interrupts his impromptu emotional breakdown.

“Gaz, are ya bloody constipated in there or something?” Soap’s voice drifts through the closed door.

“Fuck off!” Kyle returns, sharper than he intends.

There’s some shuffling, then a slightly more subdued: “Price wants us on the tarmac in 30 minutes.”

When Kyle doesn’t reply, he hears Soap’s footsteps recede into their shared room, away from the door. Kyle will have to apologize to him later. It’s not Soap’s fault that he is such a fucking mess at the moment.

With a sigh he rubs at his eyes, praying that it won’t be too obvious that he’s just been crying his eyes out. He pushes himself up and pointedly ignores the mirror as he starts shuffling around the small space to find the two tests he’s thrown to the floor. He can’t leave them in the trash here, he can’t risk Soap or the staff on base finding out.

The thought of getting rid of it without telling anyone briefly crosses his mind as he’s holding both the sticks in his hands again. It doesn’t have to upturn his life if he doesn’t want it to. They’re doing important work with the 141 and Kyle loves the thrill of knowing what he does makes a difference.

He could find a clinic as soon as this op is over. He doesn’t know too much about the exact procedures, but he can’t be more than four weeks, so it would probably be nothing too invasive.

He could do that.

But the thought of not telling John first sits wrong with him.

He loves the man too much for that, however unconventional their relationship might be. And while Kyle knows the ultimate decision is up to him, he knows he’d never be able to forgive himself if he’d kept Price in the dark about something that concerns them both. He’d never be able to look the man in the eye again without feeling guilty, knowing they’d promised they could tell each other everything.

His fist clenches around the two tests, and he forces himself to take a few deep breaths. He’ll tell John. He will. He just has to find the right moment to do so. Until then, he’ll pretend like he’s not falling apart at the fucking seams.

He shoves the two tests in a grip seal bag and washes his hands. Splashes some water onto his face for good measure too. Then he empties the bathroom of his meager amount of toiletries, hiding the tests among it for now. He’ll get rid of them later.

When Kyle finally steps out of the bathroom, Soap looks up at him from where he’s lacing up his boots on his bed. He tries to act aloof, but Kyle can see the hint of worry in his friend’s eyes.

“You good?” Soap asks.

“Yeah.” Kyle shrugs, not offering anything else. He can feel Soap’s eyes on him as he grabs his duffle bag and gathers his clothes. They both change into their gear in silence and when Soap wordlessly holds out his tac vest to him, Kyle takes it without question.

He lets Soap help him strap his equipment to his back, then turns around to do the same for his teammate.

“Sorry for snapping at you,” Kyle says as he pulls the straps on Soap’s vest closed. “Haven’t been sleeping well, but I shouldn’t take that out on you.”

It’s not a complete lie, and he hopes it sounds close enough to the truth that it will ease up Soap’s worry for now.

Soap doesn’t respond immediately, and Kyle finds himself holding his breath until he hears a low chuckle from his friend. “What’s got you soft all of a sudden-“

“Oi,” Kyle reacts, smacking the back of Soap’s head, “I’m trying to bloody apologize to you, asshole!”

Soap yelps and pulls away from Kyle, before turning around and clapping him on his shoulder. “Ach, ya got nothing to apologize for,” he says, his expression turning warm, “We’re all bloody tired. But it’s a few more weeks till we get leave, aye? Just gotta get through this op and we’ll be home before Christmas.”

“Sure,” Kyle nods, his mind unwillingly flitting to his sister Dotty and the rest of his family. Suddenly he almost misses them so much it aches. Is this what the hormones are gonna be doing to him? If it’s only going to get worse from here on out, getting through this op is gonna be hell.

Before he can find himself in another mental spiral, Soap comes to the rescue with his usual bluntness. “Ya got any plans with Cap?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “Finally gonna introduce him to the family? I’m sure yer mum is gonna love-“

Kyle punches him in the shoulder with an exaggerated groan. “Shut up, Soap. I don’t wanna think about that right now.”

Soap laughs as he throws his duffle bag over his shoulder and waits for Kyle to gather the last of his things too. “Can always come up North if they finally decide to kick you out fer yer questionable taste in men. Glasgow’s lovely this time of year-“

“It’s fucking cold, is what it is.” Kyle retorts, shivering as he remembers the last time he traveled anywhere above Leeds in the winter. Northerners and their ridiculous immunity to cold.

“Och, ya sweet summer child-“

The banter makes it a little easier for Kyle to push his current predicament to the back of his mind, so he throws his own duffle bag over his shoulder and lets Soap ramble about the beauty of Christmas in Scotland while they make their way to the tarmac together.

Compartmentalization is key. One problem at a time. He’ll get through this op first, and then he’ll handle the rest.

[fuck-customers]

11/29 I’m the anon who slashed hours at Job A for Job B because B pays much better and their corporate isn’t up to a bunch of fuckery (I’d link the post but idk how to on mobile). It’s been almost a month since I cut hours at A and a few weeks since I took on more hours at B (I was also working a THIRD job at a Halloween store, so I gave myself a light workload to start November with and decompress) and I’m so much happier. Job A’s store leader and another leader basically gave everyone “permission” (not that we needed it but it helped embolden us) to mass report manager M to HR because she’d been behaving awfully for a while, but the only reports they actually wanted to investigate required the submitters to reveal themselves, which they were both too scared to do because of M’s clear disregard for the no retaliation policy. So the reports have gone nowhere, but she’s reigned in her attitude at least.

As someone wished in the comments, Job A HAS been getting fucked over this Christmas season. Cyber Monday was a shitshow with 150+ BOPIS that we absolutely did not have enough room to properly store (we’re built to properly hold, like, 50) and there was half the staff of the weekend, so the managers were all just picking orders all day and the two cashiers were packing them all day.

And for the toy donation drive Job B does that I mentioned, not to brag but I’ve been killing it 😎 I even won a gift card to a restaurant for getting the most one week, during October when I was only there 4 hours a week. So life’s feeling pretty good right now.

Posted by admin Rodney.