#pale green exterior

[sakuranym]

Patio Concrete Pavers

With no cover, a medium-sized elegant backyard concrete paver patio

[wolfpal]

Patio Concrete Pavers With no cover, a medium-sized elegant backyard concrete paver patio

[sprwiphonetips]

Traditional Deck - Roof Extensions Example of a mid-sized classic deck design with a roof extension

[nanni-art]

Roofing - Victorian Exterior A mid-sized, elaborate, three-story wood structure with a flat roof in a green color

[lihvamay1990]

Roofing - Victorian Exterior A mid-sized, elaborate, three-story wood structure with a flat roof in a green color

[salainen]

Traditional Deck - Roof Extensions

[rosesareredrosa]

So Obvious

Theo Nott x fem reader

Summary:: Where Theo thinks he made it so obvious that he has feelings for her but y/n saw his actions as being "friends"

Authors note: I don't how I feel about this now I kinda want to have a fluffy ending ~part 2 ~

Word count: 1090

Theodore Nott had always prided himself on his ability to maintain a composed exterior. As a Slytherin, it was a skill that came in handy more often than not. However, when it came to Y/N who had unknowingly captured his heart, Theodore found himself struggling to keep his emotions in check.

Y/N was everything Theodore admired. She had a way of making everyone around her feel at ease, including him,. Theodore had tried to express his feelings in his own subtle way, but no matter what he did, it seemed Y/N remained blissfully unaware.

He offered to study with her, saved her a seat in the library, and even shared his favorite books with her. He hoped that these gestures would convey his feelings, but Y/N treated him as just another friend. It was maddening.

One evening, after yet another fruitless study session, Theodore found himself pacing in the Slytherin common room. Blaise Draco , Mattheo , Pansy , and Lorenzo were lounging around, observing his restless behavior.

"What's got you all worked up, Theo?" Blaise asked, lounging on the emerald-green sofa, his eyes following Theodore's agitated pacing.

Theodore stopped and ran a hand through his dark hair, frustration evident on his face. "It's Y/N," he muttered. "I don't understand why she can't see how I feel."

Pansy, perched on the armrest of a nearby chair, rolled her eyes. "Maybe because you're not as obvious as you think. Have you tried, I don't know, telling her?"

Theodore glared at her. "I’ve done everything but spell it out for her."

Draco smirked, leaning back in his armchair. "Maybe you need to be a bit more direct. Girls appreciate honesty."

Mattheo nodded in agreement. "Yeah, just tell her. What's the worst that could happen?"

He had made up his mind. This evening, he would confront Y/N, lay his feelings bare, and finally break through the fog of his own confusion. It was a cool night, and the library was quiet, a perfect setting for what was about to transpire. Theodore found her sitting by a window, lost in a book, her head bowed in concentration.

Taking a deep breath, Theodore approached her with a sense of grim determination. “Y/N,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration.

Y/N looked up, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Theo? What’s wrong?”

He tried to steady himself, but the frustration bubbled to the surface. “What’s wrong? That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to figure out.” His tone was sharper than he intended, but the emotional weight behind his words was undeniable.

Y/N’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Theodore’s patience snapped. “I’ve been making it so obvious, Y/N! I’ve been trying to show you how I feel in every way I know how. I spend time with you, I help you with your studies, I’ve been nothing but kind. And yet, you still treat me like I’m just another friend. What am I supposed to do?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and hurt. “Theo, I—”

“No, let me finish,” Theodore interrupted, his anger mixed with desperation. “I’ve tried everything to get you to see it. Every time I’m near you, every gesture I make, it’s all been for you. I’ve made it painfully clear that I care, that I’m interested. But it’s like you’re blind to it. Why is that?”

Y/N stood up, her face pale, and a mixture of confusion and hurt in her eyes. “I didn’t realize,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “I thought you were just being friendly. I didn’t think—”

Theodore’s anger flared up again. “That’s the problem! I didn’t want to be just ‘friendly’ anymore. I wanted you to see that I’m in love with you, that I’m not just some guy who helps with homework. I’m trying to tell you, and yet you’ve been so wrapped up in your own world that you didn’t notice.”

Y/N’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, her expression a mixture of regret and hurt. “Theo, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore your feelings. I truly didn’t realize. I thought you were just—”

“No, don’t apologize now,” Theodore cut her off, his voice a mix of frustration and heartbreak. “I’ve been a fool for letting it go on this long. I’ve been a fool for thinking that you might see how I feel without me having to shout it from the rooftops. And now, I’m just… I’m tired of waiting for something that might never come.”

The silence between them was heavy, charged with unspoken emotions. Y/N took a hesitant step towards Theodore, her own emotions raw. “Theo, please… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I really didn’t. I just… I was so focused on my own stuff that I missed what was right in front of me.”

Theodore’s face softened slightly, but the pain was still evident. “I’m not sure what to do now. I’ve laid it all out for you. I just wanted you to know that I’ve been trying so hard, and it’s been tearing me apart that you didn’t see it.”

Y/N reached out, touching his arm gently. “I’m sorry, Theo. I should have seen it. I do care about you, more than I realized. I just… I need time to process this.”

Theodore’s gaze softened, a mix of frustration and longing in his eyes. “I just wanted you to know how I felt, even if it meant being angry. I can’t keep pretending that it doesn’t matter.”

Y/N nodded, her voice trembling. “I understand. And I appreciate you telling me. I need to think about what this means for us.”

With that, Y/N stepped back, leaving Theodore standing there, his heart aching with the weight of his confession. As she walked away, Theodore felt a strange mix of relief and despair. At least he had been honest, even if it came with a cost. And as he watched her disappear into the distance, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was the end of one chapter or the beginning of something new.

The days that followed were a blur of mixed emotions. Theodore’s friends could see the change in him, but none dared to comment, respecting his silence. It was clear that the confrontation had shifted something significant in both of them. And as he navigated his way through the aftermath, Theodore couldn’t help but hope that, in time, things might settle into a new understanding, even if it meant facing more pain before finding clarity.

[andscene-if]

AND SCENE—an 18+ slice of life plunges you, a nepotism baby, into the major spotlight as the lead in a highly anticipated movie, navigating swarms of hate, swirling scandals, dating rumours, false tabloid reports, and invasive paparazzi.

Breaking news—the love interest role in Claire White's latest blockbuster finally has a star, and it's none other than [MC], pictured above, the youngest offspring of Hollywood moguls. Brace yourselves for a wild ride as [MC], usually seen in their parents' flicks, takes on a meatier role in one of next year's most hyped movies.

But hold the popcorn—whispers on the red carpet suggest [MC]'s previous filmography is more "meh" than marvellous.

Is this casting coup the pinnacle of Hollywood nepotism, or will [MC] flip the script and prove they're a force to be reckoned with? Love them or hate them, one thing's for sure: this star-studded spectacle is about to kick off, and only time will spill the juiciest deets straight from the set.

So, grab your shades, folks, because this Hollywood rollercoaster is just getting warmed up and PinkCelebTea will report every step of the way—you know how it is!

View comments

NEXT UP: Our insiders spill the tea—L Alvarez ain't exactly doing cartwheels about acting alongside what they're dubbing an 'untalented and undeserving' co-star. Trouble behind the scenes already?

# Choose the movie genre & title + those of your previous 4 films. # Customise your MC & public persona. # Navigate drama in front and behind the screen. # Shoot the movie cover & go on press tour. # Prove you're more than just a nepo kid...or don't. # Romance one out of four love interests. # Maybe even snag a few nominations by the end!

THE CO-STAR [M/F]—Louis/Luana Alvarez.

Appearance: 6'0. Brunette with curly hair (short for m, chest-length for f), pale skin and dark brown eyes. Signature style includes a white shirt/blouse, top buttons undone, and loose pants. Always impeccably dressed, with a flair for full-on glamour on special occasions, such as the red carpet. Personality: Reserved and quiet. While not everyone can pull off that demeanour, they do it flawlessly. Fans absolutely adore their composed exterior, noting, "it adds to their mystique."

THE MAKEUP ARTIST [F] — Red.

Appearance: 5'7. Long ginger hair, tanned skin adorned with freckles, and green eyes. Often dressed in skintight black or dark attire, with a scarlet shade coating her lips. Personality: Red exudes calm confidence with a soft-spoken demeanour, yet she's not one to be underestimated. She holds herself in a thoughtful, sensual, and quick-witted manner.

THE BARTENDER [M/F] — Zayn/Zara Lao.

Appearance: 5'11. Brunette with wavy hair (short for m, just below shoulders for f), tan skin, brown eyes, and a distinctive left brow slit. They've also got tattoos all over their body. Since the club gets hot quickly, you'll usually find them in something small and non-constricting, like a vest top and a pair of jeans. Personality: Unapologetically outspoken, they don't hold back. Blunt yet surprisingly charming, they've become somewhat of a local favourite in the area, rubbing shoulders with the right kind of people.

THE RIVAL [M/F] — Phoenix Ryder.

Appearance: 5'11. Black tightly curled hair (short for m, long for f & often styled differently), dark skin, and brown eyes. They sport a 90s-inspired style—often seen in loose-fitting denim jeans, a breezy shirt/crop top, and adorned with silver rings. Personality: Suave, charismatic, confident, and a touch cheeky—checking all the Hollywood boxes. As noted by many, "a legend in the making."

++contains mentions of alcohol and drug use, violence, explicit language, and optional sexual content++

DEMO TBA | CHARACTER INTROS

reblogs are appreciated :) thanks for reading!!

[nqmonarch]

Just read a sad Jing Yuan fic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/49340614) for those curious and now I need to write Jing Yuan.

Kind of a continuation of previous fic about self aware Jing Yuan but you can read this without having previously read that.

You felt rather uncomfortable, as if you were always being watched in the world of Honkai Star Rail. You hadn't meant to come here, but it wasn't like there was much left for you in the real world. You'd lost everyone too, just like your favorite character. Speaking of Jing Yuan you'd yet to run into him.

It was strange, you belonged neither to the skies nor land as you found yourself dashing between the stars glancing upon aeons but rushing away before they ever noticed you. They were even more terrifying in person. You'd caught a glimpse of Nanook leading the antimatter legion, into an attack on Herta's Space Ship. The game couldn't even begin to showcase how terrifying he was, with lava flowing out of every crevice in his body and eyes that only knew pain. You felt like you couldn't sleep for a while after that, and ever since you'd come to this world you hadn't been able to sleep. The only positive side of the incident was that you knew where you were relative to time.

When you'd spent too much time dawdling in the stars, out of exasperation you managed to take a more human form once and ended up falling down onto a strange planet. But you immediately fled when people began to stare at you, and you easily found yourself above their planet again. You didn't know what you were doing but maybe you were starting to get the hang of it.

You dipped between planets and ships, treating space as water that you could glide through. Occasionally you'd want to rest and fall down to those planets and ships in the form of a shooting star, taking a more human form once you hit the surface.

It lead to some awkward situations as you weren't sure how to land. Once you crash-landed in a hotel with a teal pool in the middle, in the pool was a strange gray haired individual with wings on his head. You shot out of there moments later, briefly apologizing for damaging the property. Other times you'd land in the middle of nowhere, an unending field, a forest with trees so tall you couldn't see the sky, or a snowy landscape. You were sure that you'd visited Jarilo-VI with the last one. Eventually you got good enough at visiting planets that you wouldn't take form until you hit what was considered the ground there, you were still working on being able to choose where you land though.

You'd been floating about for a week or two, with little stars, planets, or ships in sight. It was as if you were in a dead zone. But you eventually came across something, a long pale green ship that moved leisurely throughout the skies. Bored, and tired of gliding through space you did something you normally didn't do and fell down to the ship. You didn't normally visit ships since every part of them were populated and you randomly appearing was sure to cause some commotion. But at this point you couldn't care less.

You felt your body phase through the ship's exterior, and its artificial sky until you landed on some grass. You landed rather gracefully, especially considering that when you started landing on planets you'd collapse to the ground in a ball. Now, you touched down on them like a dancer, pointed feet reaching out to the grass and letting you hop out of the sky.

It was a rather sophisticated ship, few sought to replicate what life was like on planets, few tried to cultivate and improve life. The first thing you did was check for any onlookers, there was no one in front of you, or to your left, or right but when you turned around, you saw one singular figure.

His shoulders were slightly slouched, his head was slightly downward. Disheveled bangs covered golden eyes which didn't glow with the confidence of a lion, or the love of the sun, but instead were dull with the sorrow of a man who has seen his life fall apart in his hands and has had to build it back up piece by piece. He didn't have his signature mischievous smile which you'd always seen in the game. And you were aware of how you'd accidentally intruding upon Jing Yuan's alone time, his defenses, completely worn down and tired, finally slipping off his face.

But when he looked at you his lips opened, but didn't speak, instead remaining slightly ajar. His head tilted up as his eyes locked onto you. You'd interrupted him, but he didn't seem upset, and a fake smile didn't float to his face. He was disbelieving.

Jing Yuan, unbeknownst to you, had seen the beauties of his past truly fall apart today. He'd seen Jingliu fight Blade, and Dan Heng was aloof to it all. Jing Yuan was the only one affected. The only one who still remembered it all, who held the burden of the whole truth. Perhaps, he was the only one who still loved the others. But that love was turned against him-- like stained glass shattering and sinking into his skin, waiting there to be pushed in further whenever he remembered the High Cloud Quintet.

But then there was you, and he knew you. He didn't know how you looked, how you sounded, he was dimly aware of how you felt through the barriers that the world had constructed. Your hand on his head, out of comfort, had felt so warm. In that dream shared between you both, when you'd appeared so blurry in his mind but reached out for a hug and he'd evaporated before your eyes. He'd put his hand on your head, and felt both love and dread.

He felt the comfort he'd always longed for from someone, but terrifyingly enough he felt himself begin to care for you. He began to care for you, someone he'd never met, more than he cared for anyone else. If you were to die, or lose your mind, if you were to turn into someone else to the point you were no longer yourself. Jing Yuan wouldn't be able to handle that. So he shunned away those feelings, knowing nothing good would come of a love this strong. It didn't matter anyway since the two of you would always be separated by some invisible barrier, which he still longed to break.

He said he gave up on you. But he never could. The same way he was unable to give up on his friends. Jing Yuan was a weak man, who felt like he could only find strength when he had nothing left to lose. Weeks ago your presence had disappeared and with it everything was gone, except for the fear he felt. He hadn't worried at first, brushing it off with ease as he did with everything else, but after the first few days he couldn't run from his feelings anymore.

Jing Yuan analyzed everything you'd said, every encounter the two of you had, he asked around to anyone who may've had similar experiences, and he came to a conclusion. Other people had felt your presence before, albeit none as attached to you as him. And from those other people, he realized, this was all a game. All of his suffering, all of his pain, everything he'd gone through was just to make him an interesting character.

But if it felt real to him, and to others, then why couldn't he be real? For now, he was just a game character to you. You could start playing with other characters, never choosing Jing Yuan again, and he would be left none the wiser. You could stop playing the game whenever you wanted to, and he would be left none the wiser. You could die, and he would be left none the wiser. The fact that he could think, and even come to this realization, assured Jing Yuan that he was more than a game character. A game, was simply the method used to connect your two worlds. And Jing Yuan would be damned if he couldn't find a way to hear from you again.

He would always be the general of the Xianzhou Luofu and he would always put the safety of the Luofu first so long as he was general. So it was even more important to prepare Fu Xuan to take his position, so he could spend the little time he had left, before he would become mara struck, and find a way to talk to you. He'd never expected that you would find a way to come here of your own accord, especially after he'd gone through such a terrible day.

It was like a gift from the universe.

Of course, you couldn't help but think the same as you saw your favorite character in front of you. It was like a gift from the universe. You took a step closer, the grass tickling your feet, and then you took another step. You moved rather slow, unsure about how Jing Yuan felt about you, reading the emotions on his face you'd never had the chance to see when he was a game character. You didn't get the chance to overthink about it, as he took long fast strides, quickly outpacing you and wrapped his arms around you pulling you close.

His shirt was billowy and soft against your skin, but it was just thin enough you could feel the heat from Jing Yuan's body mix with yours. He was real.

"It's wonderful, to finally meet you." His voice was deep and began to crack near the end of his sentence a weakness, unbefitting of a general, entering his voice. It was the weakness of a human.

You couldn't help but smile during your embrace, resting your head against his skin, hearing the soft beating of a heart. "I missed you," You couldn't help but say, despite the fact you'd never met.

Jing Yuan rested his head near yours, "I missed you too." It was like you were a pair of lovers reunited after countless of centuries trying to find each other. A pair of people who couldn't help but love everything in the world until nothing in the world loved them back. And when the lack of love hurt to the point of death, they'd find each other and learn to love again.

You didn't need to speak, nor communicate, a quiet understanding echoing between the two of you. A hot tear hit your face, and you looked to Jing Yuan seeing his eyes water, and leave streaks down his cheeks. You pulled his face closer, and kissed each wet spot taking the pain and leaving nothing but love behind. His arms clutched your waist, like you were a buoy and he was a man lost at sea.

Throughout everything the two of you have faced, you were both finally home.

me: the temptation to write self indulgent jing yuan fics vs wanting to fucking write my story

it's always a losing battle or maybe it's a win idk

[chenfleur]

open the gates, let me in

summary. jeno always seems willing to do anything for you, and it takes a lot of inner nagging for him to finally realize why.

pairing. jeno x y/n ft donghyuck, jaemin genre. fluff, college au, best friends to lovers disclaimers. swearing, denial resonates so deeply with me its humiliating word count. 4.0k released. 02.05.23

masterlist

For what feels like the nth time this hour, a certain honey-skinned boy shamelessly rolls his eyes at one of his best friends. That title, however, is in serious danger of being revoked if he has to spend one more agonizing second in this store.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't ditch your ass right now," Donghyuck jeers. His habit of poking his cheek with his tongue shines through as impatience radiates off of his body.

Jeno ignores his complaining, eyes diligently scanning the rows of colourful fragrance bottles.

He's quite overwhelmed. The labels, brands, scents, and undertones—they all mean nothing to him. The only thing he's somewhat familiar with is the brand of the cologne he takes a liking to, but the strong woods and smokes of the men's cologne selection is a distinct opposite of what he’s looking for.

It leaves him to stand cluelessly among the shelves of white flowers and citruses and berries, trying to pick out the combination he thinks you'd like the most.

"Where would you even go? I drove," Jeno deadpans. 

He gently picks up a translucent, pale red bottle. Blood orange and peony.

Popping off the cap, he spritzes a tiny bit on his inner wrist and brings it up close to his nose. The scent is like a punch in the face, leaving him reclining back with a furrowed brow.

Too strong.

"We're going to be late to Jaemin's if you don't hurry the fuck up," Donghyuck says, burning holes through Jeno's skull before letting out a deep sigh.

"Can you just pick one so we can go? We look like fucking idiots here."

Jeno only hums, cracking a small smile.

He couldn't chide him for being wrong—the two of them look very out of place. Their sharp silver jewelry, inked skin, and dazed boyish smiles contrast against the dainty bottles standing atop the soft pink shelves of the women's fragrance section like black on white.

"Firstly," Jeno begins, voice riddled with amusement. "You don't give a fuck about punctuality-"

"Oh look at you, going off with your big words."

Jeno spins around. "Hyuck, you're drinking a matcha frappucino while looking like that."

He points at the green drink the boy was sipping on, the extra whipped cream he asked for contradicting his hard exterior.

Donghyuck scoffs. "Sorry I don't like to drink death in a cup," he drawls, sarcasm dripping off his tongue.

He breaks his glare on the black-haired boy as he sees two girls standing a distance away, his face doing a 180 as he notices them not-so-discreetly staring.

Smirking, Donghyuck confidently throws them a wink. He watches with pride as flattered giggles spill from their lips, before turning back to Jeno, who had picked up another bottle.

"Why are you even doing this?" Donghyuck asks out of genuine curiosity, though it's hidden underneath the guise of annoyance.

"Y/N asked me to."

Here’s some money. Get me something you think I'd like, yeah? you had said. Or something that you'd like. I'll still wear it, I don't care. I trust your judgment.

Donghyuck snorts. "I'm convinced you'd do anything for Y/N," he mutters.

It's an offhand comment, yet it makes the black-haired boy put his tongue between his teeth as a weird, sprawling feeling erupts in his chest.

The thought of why he seemed willing to do anything for you had never occurred to him. Not because the thought had never shown up to the gates of his consciousness—Jeno was uncomfortably familiar with the strange feeling in his stomach when you were around—but because he never let it in.

He doesn't dare to let it in, even going as far as telling it to leave and never return each time it knocks—because if he did, he would spend hours in this perfume section, legs going numb from standing as it invaded and overtook his brain, preventing him from getting anything done.

His eyes land on one last bottle. It's a clear one, with a clean, minimalistic label.

Lazy Sunday Morning. Maison Margiela.

Jeno repeats the action he's done with multiple bottles by now; spritzing the fragrance onto a new, untouched area of his inner arm and bringing it up to smell.

It's soft, it's floral, it's feminine. It infiltrates his senses in the way fresh, cotton bed sheets would. The soft sun after the rain.

It's how you look when he comes over to your apartment unannounced on a random weekend morning: wearing an oversized white shirt and a pair of high-waisted sports shorts.

It's the strawberry lip gloss that always stains your lips. It's your Hello Kitty pillowcase that you wash way more often than Jeno washes his, for which you constantly nag him for being unhygienic.

It's your flushed, red face at parties, your preference for tea over coffee—your smaller, softer hand grabbing his calloused one when he gets nervous.

Jeno thinks it's you, and he hopes you think it's you too.

He slowly turns around to Donghyuck, who's fidgeting with the tattered sleeve of his leather jacket.

"Smell this," he prompts, snapping the brown-haired boy out of his daze.

Donghyuck tugs at Jeno's arm, bringing it up to his face and taking a quick whiff before letting it fall. "Smells nice. I'm sure Y/N will like it. Now let's go," he presses, already taking off towards the exit.

Jeno only shakes his head, gaze falling on the bottle he held in his ring-clad fingers. He thinks it would look nice on your vanity, next to all your other bottles of products.

He doesn't know what they do, but they make you, you.

Donghyuck, whose brown strands are now dyed a refreshing purple, throws his head back howling with laughter as he sees you and Jeno approach the food court table.

He receives several displeased stares from nearby people, but he doesn't seem to care in the slightest, only being able to focus on what Jeno is wearing.

"Oh my fucking god, Jeno," he wails incoherently, pointing at his friend's pants while clutching his stomach. "What- what are those?"

Your choice to wear a pair of light-washed, ripped skinny jeans to come to the mall turned out to be a massive mistake. You're bitter towards the person who first said "beauty is pain" because of how miserably right they are; whose idea was it to make girls' pants so uncomfortable?

The walk across the parking lot to the entrance was enough for your legs to start screaming for relief, resulting in you pleading with Jeno to switch with you.

Jeno drops down into the empty seat next to Jaemin, letting out a deep sigh. He rubs at his temples as Donghyuck's high-pitched, maniacal laughter erratically rings throughout the air.

This is exactly why he was adamant about declining your request; Lee Donghyuck is an entity of pure evil, and Jeno felt the humiliation creeping up on him from behind like a tiger ready to pounce.

But as he always seems to do, he relented.

Now, his sweatpants sit comfortably on your hips, bunching up at your ankles while he wears your jeans, the pant ends stopping halfway up his calves.

"She was chafing," he mutters, referring to you.

Donghyuck laughs loudly and unapologetically, reaching down to poke at Jeno's bare knee through the large rips of the jeans. His actions result in him getting a hard slap on the arm, eliciting a pained "ow!" from him.

You give Jeno a sweet smile, slipping him another whispered apology before feeling a gentle tug at your wrist.

Renjun begins to drag you away from the table, mumbling something along the lines of "new premium watercolour set" and "20% off". Jumping up from his seat, Donghyuck follows suit with a devilish smile etched on his face, immediately asking the shorter boy to buy him a vinyl he had his eye on from earlier.

Jaemin watches as the three of you fade into the crowd of customers, leaving only him and Jeno at the table. As soon as you disappear from his sight, he whips around with anticipation. "So?"

A shaky blink. "So..?"

"So? Have you thought about what I said?"

Jeno doesn't respond as he stills, his lips pursed carefully.

Of course he had thought about what Jaemin said.

He tried his goddamn hardest not to, just like he has with every other possible reasoning behind his feelings that wandered into scary, uncharted territory—but how could he not? It wasn't something that he could just forget, like remembering to wash his socks or buying milk.

A week ago, Na Jaemin had brought upon him a revelation that was far too casually dropped at one of the group's regular get-togethers. It was like a silent bomb, and it had been doing no less than eating at him alive.

He wants to deny it so badly. In fact, that's exactly what he's been doing—denying its possibility of being true, denying its existence at all.

If it was going to slip through the cracks of the iron gates, Jeno was going to make sure it felt as unwelcome as possible.

And that's exactly what he does.

"I have," he begins meekly.

Upon hearing these words, Jaemin's lips stretch into a wide smile. "And?"

"...and I don't think you're right."

The lights in the younger's eyes flicker out just as quickly as they turned on. He doesn't even bother to hide his disappointment, giving his best friend a deadpan stare. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

He was expecting this reaction from Jaemin, but he couldn't let it get to him. Not when he couldn't let the narrative Jaemin was pressing so adamantly a week ago be true.

A loud sigh rips through the air. "Jeno, why are you so in denial?"

"I'm not in denial. It's not true."

Jaemin leans forward, looking into his best friend's eyes. He could tell there was a deep, buried sense of longing behind those dark irises.

"Lee Jeno," he begins slowly.

"I have known you nearly my entire life. I have been by your side since we were puny, disgusting first graders, and I have never seen you be so caring towards someone."

Jaemin has always doted on you.

He reminds you of a worrying mother; a fairy who is always there to remind you to dress warmly and take your vitamins. When you had a fever, Jeno had knocked on the door of your apartment only to be let in by Jaemin, who had been in your kitchen making his mother's soup recipe for you.

Donghyuck is the playful, sarcastic brother you never had.

He's the one who always encourages you to down another shot, to get you to do crazy things like jumping off the roof into a pool. But he's warm when he needs to be; Jeno had walked in one night through the door of his and Donghyuck's shared apartment to find you dumping your emotions onto the honey-skinned boy's shirt as he whispered words of consolation.

Renjun indulges your passionate side.

You share so much in common with him and you value his opinion like a sacred script. He's your 3AM therapist for your woes, he's your debate opponent for any topic—he's the one who encouraged you to chase after your dreams when you had trouble deciding on whether to choose what your parents wanted for you, or what you wanted for yourself.

Jeno thinks he's just Lee Jeno to you. 

The captain of the basketball team you met back in junior year of high school, who’s an architecture major at the same university you go to. Your best friend, but only if you thought so.

When it's about the others, Jeno seems to see everything—how they care for you, in what ways they’re integrated into your life—he doesn’t seem to notice how much he cares for you. 

He doesn't think about how sometimes, he miraculously finds himself entering your apartment at the crack of dawn to remind you to bring an assignment that's due that day. And when you knock your hand against his, silenting asking for him to hold it, he’ll reluctantly put his cold, mysterious image aside to gently slip his hand into yours.

There was one time when you asked to go stargazing in the dead of the night. Despite the subzero weather outside, not an ounce of regret coursed through his body when he agreed to go with you.

He couldn’t feel his fingers when he was out there, but it didn’t feel like it mattered when he saw you pointing at constellations with a smile of pure euphoria painted on your features.

He doesn’t notice how you notice that he cares.

The way your eyes lit up when he quietly entered your room with medicine and a hot water bottle went unseen by him. You never told him that Renjun was only half of the reason why you chose to pursue art, and that seeing him choose architecture over the path his own parents wanted for him pushed you over the edge.

He seems to remember you curled up to Donghyuck's side, but not how as soon as you saw him walk through the doorway, you gently peeled yourself up from the couch, out of Donghyuck's hold to throw yourself onto him, because you had come to their apartment looking for him. For his hold, for his comfort.

No, he doesn't notice these things because he's selectively blind when it comes to the possibility of there ever being a 'you and him', and it drives Jaemin nuts.

Jaemin laughs, dumbfounded. 

"For fucks sake, Jeno," he exclaims, dragging his hands down his face. "You're literally wearing women's jeans right now."

He removes his hands from his face, staring deeply into his best friend's eyes in a last-ditch effort to get through to the stubborn boy.

"You're in love with her."

"I'm sorry."

At this point, you’ve lost track of how many times those two words had left Jeno's lips.

The party downstairs blares in the background, though it’s muffled by the closed door. Jeno’s murmured apologies are the only sounds that fill the air, other than the squelches of water as you squeezed your shirt in the sink. 

You turn your head around to look at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. He’s sitting on the edge of the acrylic bathtub, sliding his rings up and down his fingers with a distant look on his face.

"Stop apologizing. It's okay."

Despite graduating two years ago, Johnny Suh still parties like it’s his full-time job, and being in his second-floor bathroom makes the room feel like it’s a physical manifestation of his spirit.

There’s two lights above the bathroom mirror, though one of them had blown its fuse. It casts a dim, aquamarine light that reaches every corner of the small room, highlighting the slightly frayed shower curtains and dark crevices of the floor tiles. There’s a few shaving products and the remains of a half-smoked blunt strewn across the surface of the otherwise clean countertop.

The reason why you and Jeno are in the bathroom instead of downstairs isn’t one the boy’s proud of. 

You didn’t run into Jeno until around halfway through the night. They say you haven’t had the real college experience if you haven’t gone to a Johnny Suh party, and the flocks of people that covered every part of the estate prove how much people value getting their tuition’s worth.

A light sheen of sweat is apparent on your forehead as you try your best to weave your way through the masses. You don’t even know where you’re going, and you could feel it growing stuffier as more people spilled into the halls.

It’s only until you suddenly feel a piercing cold sensation on your chest do you see something other than drunk college students pressed together.

You come face-to-face with Lee Jeno, who’s staring at you with big, round eyes and lips parted in sheer horror.

You glance down at your own body. The center of your chest is several shades darker, a large wet splotch prominently standing out against the beige fabric of your long-sleeved top. 

Your eyes dart between your top and Jeno’s red solo cup that had several droplets of liquid dribbling down its side. Realizing what just happened, you can’t help but laugh.

“Why hello to you too, mister,” you say between giggles.

Jeno’s face is flushing redder by the second, and there’s a big bump on his head from the imaginary hammer that struck him for being so stupid. 

A few seconds go by of just him staring at you before stutters spill from his lips. 

“I- Oh my- oh my god,” he breathes out. “Oh my fucking god, Y/N, I’m so sorry-”

“It’s okay. I needed an excuse to get away from all the noise anyways,” you cut him off, reaching for his free hand. 

“Come with me to the bathroom?”

The words flow out of your mouth like a smooth, running stream; casual, and far more relaxed than the jittery feeling in Jeno's stomach. He doesn’t resist in the slightest, the feeling of your touch sending a surge of electricity up his arm.

Finally looking up from the metal around his fingers, Jeno’s breath hitches.

His eyes trail down your figure with innocent intention. The thin straps of your ivory, silk camisole delicately sit on your collarbone, your black miniskirt hugging your waist. 

He doesn’t realize he’s even staring, not when he’s mesmerized by the slope of your nose, or the outline of your cupid’s bow.

There’s something that the aquamarine glow is doing to you that makes his jaw go slack.

Usually, he’d be alert, keeping his thoughts in check—but the slight intoxication seeped through him, and he can feel himself growing careless.

Jeno's hand twitches. You're within arm's reach, he could reach for your waist and pull you right into him—but he doesn't, because that would ruin the scene.

This scene of you standing in front of the sink, twisting your shirt in your hands with a small crease in your brow. It's so domestic, so perfect—he can't help but wonder what it'd be like to see you like this every day—

—and then, he hears it.

There it is, the violent banging on the gates. It echoes through the halls from outside, persistent and maybe just a bit desperate. Or, was it actually his heart thumping against his chest?

Open up! it yelled. You would do anything for her. You're in love with her, idiot!

Had it been his heart all along?

"There we go," you give your top one final twist, grinning with satisfaction as the water drips down clear.

You turn the sink off and unravel the top from its scrunched-up form, flapping it a few times to prevent creases.

"That should do it. Okay, let's go back downstairs. Hyuck bet ten dollars I couldn't beat him in beer pong and I'm going to make him eat his wor-"

Your rambling is cut off as soon as you turn toward the boy on the edge of the tub. He's staring at you with misty eyes, and you can't stop yourself from taking a step closer.

"Jeno?" you call, leaning down to meet him at eye level.

Eyes twinkling with mirth, you lower yourself into a crouching position, and your hand finds its place on his knee. You let your fingers drum on the fabric of his black jeans, musing your wonder.

"You're drunk, aren't you? How much have you had to drink?"

The action is mindless, and Jeno knows it. The two of you often shared small, habitual touches—but this time, it's wholly different.

"I'm- I'm not drunk," he croaks out.

A light-hearted snicker. "Sure you aren't."

"I'm not."

"Then why is your face so red?"

"I'm just... thinking about something."'

An amused chuckle leaves your mouth before you muse your wonders, "You're drunk, Jen. But, would you care to share?"

Jeno feels himself unclicking the locks. "Okay," he huffs out nervously.

The iron gates swing slightly ajar.

"I'm thinking about how I would do anything for you."

A pause goes by. The sound of the music downstairs seems to have gotten even louder, to the point where Jeno can't hear his own breathing. He wonders if he's even still breathing as his gaze rests on you intensely, waiting for your reaction.

When your fingers stop drumming against his knee, Jeno's world stops.

"O-oh."

Your expression is indecipherable as his words sink in, eyes growing rounder and your lips part.

Your eyes dart around Jeno's face to see if you can locate a trace of playfulness, a hint that he wasn't thinking straight—and while his flushed, rosy cheeks are a telltale that he's a little intoxicated, his eyes are heavy with sincerity.

He's being serious, and it brings you to a loss for words.

"A-and? What did you conclude?" you manage to stutter out, peering up at him.

This is exactly what he was afraid of. Afraid of your disappointed expression, your lips ready to utter the inevitable words he wished he'd never have to hear.

He's not even sure what those words exactly are, because Lee Jeno feels like a fucking mess right now, but he'll know in a few seconds after you say them—

"I... I don't really know why..."

A lightbulb clicks in your head. You seem to realize Jeno's implications before he even does himself.

"Jeno?" you prompt, voice feather-soft.

The boy's eyes are screwed shut by now, unable to look you in the eyes. He's trying to lock the gates closed again, as they were for so long.

"Hmm?" he weakly hums.

"I love you."

Jeno's attempts are futile. The thought is victorious.

It pushes past his regret-driven efforts. It floods his head akin to a raging tsunami.

It's so loud. The music in the background is so loud.

You are so loud. Your eyes, your grip on his knee, your words—

—they're so loud.

She just said she loves me.

"I've loved you for so long. Do you love me too?" you whisper, hand subconsciously reaching for his.

It shocks Jeno how his voice doesn't fail him. "You love me?"

"I do."

"M-more than a friend?"

"Much more. I love you like I'll never have you, even if I always find myself in your arms," you say, letting out a dry chuckle as a small smile graces your face.

"Do you love me too?" you repeat.

The gates snap off their hinges from the sheer force, and the thought chants a victory song—

You're in love with her!

Jeno blinks.

I'm in love with her.

Jeno never seemed to mind, when it came to you. He never seemed to mind wearing your light blue skinny jeans for you, and he never seemed to mind looking out of place with his grungy demeanor inside of a delicate perfume section either. He never seemed to mind waking up at an ungodly hour for you, and he never seemed to mind holding you when the world was against you.

And as you look at him, your face glimmering underneath the dim, bathroom light—it clicks.

Jeno suddenly realizes why he'd be willing to do anything for you. He'd be willing to get you the moon and the stars if you asked, because he loves you.

And, because you deserve it. It's the least he could do for you for loving him.

Reaching out a wavering hand, Jeno gently pulls you up from your crouching position so the both of you could stand. Your gaze never leaves him, your previous question still hanging in the air.

The boy rests his hand delicately on your jaw. His eyes glaze over your face, taking in your beautiful features before landing on your lips with a shaky exhale.

"Do you love me too?" you ask for a third time, your irises shining with hope.

"Fuck," he breathes out. "I- I do. I love you, so much."

You don't even get the chance to beam at his confession before he closes the distance between the two of you, his soft lips against yours.

[utterlyotterlyx]

4 and/or 25 with Eris, please!

Lost In The Fire

Eris x Fem!Reader

Warnings - mentions of arranged marriage, suggestive comments, lots of fluff

(not spell checked sorry x)

What if you - If you're really about to suggest that I sit on your lap, I will kill you. Don't leave me here alone.

Balls had never been, nor ever would be, your thing.

The opulence that came with them was sickening, a waste of precious resources that could be put toward something more beneficial. The gold on display, the mountains of food that hardly anyone would touch that sat as a putrid reminder of power and wealth, and the stench of ale made your stomach churn with distaste.

You would forever curse your brother, Thesan, for giving you over to the Autumn Court, you understood that you had a duty to fulfil, and since you were the sister of one of the more liberal courts, with unmatched spiritual abilities, it meant that you were a high prize indeed.

You had long lost your usual clothing, red and gold loose fitting robes that still had the power to accentuate every feature you held lay dormant in your wardrobe and had been swapped out for tighter fitting garments in an arrangement of greens and browns and oranges. By order of Lady Autumn, of course.

There would be a day when her title would belong to you, and you always had to look the part.

It was a part you played well.

Marriage to Eris, the Heir of the Autumn Court, wasn't nearly as bad as you had expected it to be. It was lucky that your talents in spirituality were so advanced, and you were also lucky that his knowledge of your gifts was so little when you had first met.

Despite his cold exterior, you saw a small boy within him wanting more than anything to break free from the chains that bound him to his position. It was his only defence against his father. But, he knew that you could see through it, see through him in a way that no one else could and part of him was relieved to finally have someone who could understand him.

Things were still rocky, you struggled with their way of life, something Beron despised and spoke of frequently, saying he did not want you leading his court if you couldn't bend your morals and do what was needed. If turning your back on the people who needed you was too stiff, then you didn't want to be leading his court anyway.

But everything with Eris was good, more than good actually, you had actually come to care for him beyond the requirements of your marriage. Eris had moved your rooms opposite his own to have you closer to him, to have you speak him into newfound calm when his duties became too much; to have you closer to him so that he could soothe your clairvoyant episodes that pounced on you from nowhere.

It was meant to be a marriage of convenience, a marriage to forge new power and bonds and produce a litter of children who possessed both of your abilities. A new path for Autumn, a stronger path.

The clouds darkened on the horizon, the moon poked through their curls and illuminated them with a faint pale blue glow. Lanterns lined the garden paths below your window, Eris had made sure to give you the room with the best view, and you watched idly as high born nobles and invited guests to the nights festivities strolled down the cobbled stone paths arm in arm, pointing at the array of intricately carved white marble statues and fountains littered across the lawns, scattered between the hedges and lush flowerbeds.

Ladies swarmed you, tugging at your limbs and shimmying skirts up your legs before huffing and ripping them down again, tapping your calves to tell you to lift your feet so that they could try the next one. Lady Autumn ordered that racks upon racks of opulent dresses be wheeled into your chambers, it was important that you look your best in front of all of the nobles attending that evening, from Autumn and those from other courts.

Even Beron knew how powerful your opinion was to others, not like he would ever listen to it himself. You had been the one to accompany your brother to the High Lords meeting to find a path forward against Hybern. It was your grace and elegance that kept the meeting from boiling over since you were able to feel the emotions of others and force them to simmer down before they consumed the room. It was you who had been able to tell them all of Hyberns movements which no doubt gave them the edge they needed. It was you who saved dozens upon dozens of soldiers from all courts.

You had been the one to help Feyre with the complications with her pregnancy, you had been there for the birth of her son and had given a kernel of your own gift to keep her alive; it made you a very trusted ally to the Night Court, a friend. Helion wrote to you often asking for you opinions on research and inventions, even went as far as to ask for your input on some new policies he wanted to introduce to Day.

It was stupid to suggest that you wouldn't be the perfect High Lady.

Diplomatic. Gifted. Elegant. Poised.

And Eris adored every part of you that you decided to show him, he basked in it actually.

You weren't really paying attention as the ladies around you tugged at your hair and pulled another dress up your body, fitting it tightly around your breasts and hips before standing back and humming in approval. Then you looked.

An assortment of shimmering golds, burnt oranges and flecks of silver, all weaving between one another like the summer tides. It was sheer, enough to be endearing and elegant but not enough to appear indecent. There was a cut out half sphere below your breasts and the bodice flared upward like streaks of sunshine at the crack of dawn. Even you had to admit that it was a stunning piece indeed. Like a stained glass window glowing with dawns kiss.

"This is the one," your fingers brushed around your hips with a faint smile, your hair was unbound and simple, a perfect compliment to the other-worldly dress you adorned, and your makeup was a picture of dewy perfection, shimmers along your cheekbones and forehead, arched brows, glossed lip. "Thank you," you had dismissed the flock of women as soon as they strapped your shoes to your feet, taking a moment for yourself before you slipped from the room.

The quietness of the hallway was enough to tell you that Eris would already be in the ballroom, no doubt sassily quipping the other High Lords and Ladies with cold eyes and a stiff spine. An act that would melt under your presence.

You weren't wrong.

As soon as you had entered the room, it was encapsulated by you. Feyre and Mor rushed to greet you, stroking your hair and running their hands down your skirts, begging for you to tell them where had gotten it. Cassian bundled you into a boisterous embrace which earnt him a curt jab from Nesta for the inappropriateness, Azriel kissed your knuckles as did Rhys, and Helion kissed your cheek in greeting, muttering to you how beautiful you looked in a hushed tone.

No reaction compared to that of Eris however as he remained glued to his seat with lips agape as his russet orbs scoured your figure, the mere action of his eyes on you making heat rise to your cheeks.

Tables lined the room with benches on either side, all packed with goblets of wine and mugs of ale, platters of food scattered at intricately measured intervals. Only Beron and Lady Autumn sat at the head of the hall, the latter of which examined you with approval.

Everyone had floated about you, stealing your attention from the one you desired to give it to. From Rhys asking you, jokingly, to revolt against Autumn and find sanctuary in Velaris, to Thesan pulling you to the side to inquire if you were being treated well. Helion had updated you on the policies you had so gracefully aided him in implementing, and you found a moment to catch up with Kallias and Viviane.

Then you made your way over to Eris who was wrapped up in a conversation with Lucien and Elain, whose gaze jolted from cold to warm in a split second when he saw your dress glistening in the corner of his eye, "Hello, Embers," his voice was as smooth as freshly cracked open whisky as he prodded you with the nickname he had given you, he thought you glowed, not brightly, but like embers on a dying fire, low and warm.

Eris was extremely proud to call you his wife, not only were you clearly beautiful, but you had a heart of molten gold, people sought you out for comfort and aid, you were graceful and poised, and could change the world with your bare hands if you wished it. It was what he needed, a chance of a real future with the woman he was falling in love with.

He couldn't blame you for your feelings toward him, you didn't exactly have a choice in the marriage but you had tried to make the most of it, and you had let him in and spent more time with him away from the duties required of you. Eris thought that you had finally started to feel a certain way toward him as well, from the faint shine in your eyes when you looked at him to the real laughter that sliced through the fogged atmosphere when he quipped something to you. You made him melt, you made him be who he always wanted to be.

"Hello," your voice was as soft as drizzled honey and your hair fell over your shoulders as you leaned forward to place a kiss on his cheek, a necessary act to display your strength as a couple.

Eris felt your eyes trail down his chest and arms, the open collared cream shirt and chestnut brown jacket and pants; he had styled his hair the way you loved it, tamed but still with a playfulness to it, tousled slightly as if he had been stood on the balcony in the wind for a few moments. "Do you like it?" Eris motioned to his suit with that gleam in his eye that made your knees weak, it was certainly a good thing that he wasn't an empath like you, otherwise he'd know his effect on you and no doubt tease you for it.

Just because Eris couldn't feel your emotion doesn't mean that someone else couldn't read you like a book.

You're blushing, a voice infiltrated your mind and you did well to keep a stoic face against Rhys' shit-eating smirk he was no doubt wearing from his seat across the bench from your husband, with his arm loosely wrapped around Feyre's waist, sipping from his goblet with a teasing glint in his eye. Someone might say you might actually feel something for the man.

Ignoring the voice in your head, you spoke, "I love it, we're basically matching."

You'll definitely be matching when both of your clothes are on the floor tonight.

Go fuck yourself, Rhys.

I don't need to. Not when I have my lovely mate.

The walls in your mind flew up then, trapping his talons against the roof of your consciousness with such force that the High Lord visibly winced and rubbed his temple tenderly.

"You look angelic," Eris stood before you, taking your hand in his and pressing his lips against the back of your hand, dipping low and peering at you through his lashes, making no effort to mask the desire in his emotions.

"Thank you," it came out as a whisper and he placed your hand back to your side, sitting down again beside his brother, allowing you to glance along the table which housed not only Eris and Lucien, but also Elain, Rhys, Feyre, Nesta, Cassian, Azriel, Helion, and your brother, meaning there was no space for you, "I suppose I'll go and sit with Kallias and Viviane," you picked up your skirts to turn away when Eris' hand shot out and secured around your wrist.

Eris' eyes glowed in the candlelight, you could see the flames flickering in his russet orbs that had you in a constant chokehold, "What if you-"

"If you're really about to suggest that I sit on your lap, I will kill you," Azriel choked on his wine and coughed as Rhys and Cassian howled in laughter, even Eris chuckled and ran a hand through his hair at your words, standing to tower over you and cup your face in his hand.

"Perhaps later," he smirked and you visibly blushed at the words, even Eris couldn't miss it and he stroked a thumb over your rosed cheek.

In defence, you quipped, "Maybe I'll go back to my chambers then," the words flew from your mouth and you only realised how they sounded when Eris' focus darkened, the tension between you both was palpable to the point that even Azriel let out a whoosh of air he didn't realise he was holding in his lungs.

"So tempting," he took a step closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and speaking a low, rough tone, "Don't leave me here alone, you know I don't do well without you."

"Fine," you strained and he grinned victoriously before ordering his brother and Elain to scooch down slightly to make room for you, and you slotted beside Eris like the final piece to his puzzle, thanking him for the goblet of wine you had taken from his offering fingers and looking upward at Rhys and Feyre who both sent you a knowing glance.

Knocking on the doors of your mind, you allowed Rhys to slip in, doing your best to stay distracted against Eris' hand on your hip that sent fire coursing through your veins and heat pooling between your thighs.

I've never known him to be like this, you know.

Like what?

Rhys' eyes flickered to Eris in examination before finding you again whilst Feyre kept the heir ignorant to the conversation between you and her mate.

Soft. Caring. He loves you, Y/N.

Well, it's a good thing I love him too then.

Rhys smirked, raising his goblet to you to which you clinked against your own, sipping the spiced wine and smiling with happiness at his words.

Eris sighed and turned to you, placing a kiss to your cheek, allowing his lips to graze against your cheekbones and his breath to fan down your neck. The rest of the room had moved on, wrapped up in one another, wrapped up in the ale and music, leaving you and Eris alone and untouchable in your little bubble. His eyes scanned you, sketching every part of you onto the canvas within his mind, "Your presence has impacted me so deeply that I'm convinced that if we never met then something would feel missing," he rested his forehead against your own and his hand gripped your waist as his gaze bore into you, "Don't leave me alone, don't ever leave me," a breathless plea that stole your heart.

"I will never leave you, Eris. I will be here to watch all of your dreams come true, I promise."

Flames danced in his eyes and he became unbothered by who could be watching, "They already are," his finger stroked a line up the curve of your throat as he lifted your chin up, wasting no time in pressing his lips to yours in something you could only call ethereal, so tender but passionate that you felt your heart burst with golden light in your chest.

Eris smirked against your lips, a knowing thing, like he knew exactly what had just happened, pulling away, you gasped as your hand ghosted over the fabric of your heart, "You knew?"

"From the moment we met at that meeting in Dawn," his nose brushed against yours, "You were too busy helping Thesan and keeping Tamlin under control to notice, but I saw you, and I knew I needed you."

"You never said anything."

"How could I?" Eris pressed a kiss to your nose, "You had to fall for me on your own, I couldn't influence that."

You inhaled his scent, of crackling firewood and spiced oranges and sighed, you curled your fingers around the lapels of his jacket and kissed him again, more forcefully, and luckily for you both, the room hadn't noticed your infatuation due to Cassian's well played distraction to give you both a moment, one that you needed.

"I need to get you out of here before I take you on this table," his voice possessively growled and it made you shudder in intense delight.

Rhys watched from across the way as Eris took your hand in his own and pulled you from the room, smiling at the large grin on your face and the faint giggles passing through your lips as he saw the silhouette of Eris flinging you over his shoulder cascaded in shadow onto the white stone floor.

If anyone deserved true happiness, a life of wonder and love, it was you, and it was something Rhys believed Eris was now fully capable of providing for you.

Author's Note

Back from Paris in love with the idea of love so expect lots of fluff coming your way x

[leapingbadger]

Sunrise

@oliviaeatworld had a post about Hunter being able to sense ghosts and I couldn't get it out of my head, so I wrote a short story about it.

Summary: Hunter discovers her can sense ghosts.

Word count: 2151

            ��   Hunter finally got up after he had been awake for over an hour. He padded over to the small kitchen to prepare the cup of caf he needed to start the day. His routine didn’t change much these days. He enjoyed the calm and quiet of the morning while the others slept. He could hear Wrecker’s soft snoring coming from behind his door. Batcher’s collar jingled as she rolled over in her bed.

It had been five months since Tantis, since they had stopped running. They were safe at last. Something Hunter had struggled to believe possible at times.

                Living in a home was something Hunter had never known he wanted. The domesticity of stone and wood over Kamino’s sterile white or industrial grey was a dichotomy he’d never imagined he’d experience. Shep had been kind enough to give them a vacant home and they had slowly set to work, making it their own.

                The home was like most of the others on Pabu with its white stone exterior and curved doorframes and rooms. It was cozy but spacious enough to fit them all comfortably. They would spend their evenings cooking meals in the modest kitchen with Wrecker taking point as head chef. He had been so enamored with Shep’s food he had asked for lessons on how to prepare it himself.

                One of the larger bedrooms was divided into two so they all had their own private space. The rooms all connected to the central common space so they were never too far away from each other if someone needed something, or had a nightmare.

Omega had helped them pick out colors for the walls of their respective bedrooms. She thrived on the idea of them putting down roots, making things their own.  Hunter was amazed at her ability to bounce back from her experience on Tantis. She would never be that same small, innocent girl they had taken off Kamino and Hunter had to wrestle with that often. She had to become a soldier out of necessity, but now, seeing her curled up on the couch with a book or laughing with Liana, he hoped she was someone who could settle in the peace of this place. It was all he ever wanted for her.

The left bedroom belonged to Crosshair. He kept his room pretty sparse but did let Omega choose a calming, pale green for the walls. His bed was lofted which gave him the space below for his art. He had taken to painting in the last few months, initially as therapy for his augmented hand but Hunter knew it had helped heal his mind just as much. Canvases were propped against the walls and stacked next to the easel. Batcher’s bed was tucked in the corner. She alternated between his and Omega’s room.

Wrecker was next to Crosshair and had chosen a deep maroon. The color was reminiscent of their old armor. Hunter wasn’t sure if that was deliberate or not but it felt like a warm hug whenever you walked inside, if you didn’t trip over something. Posters hung crooked on the walls. They reminded Hunter of the ones they had had on the marauder. Wrecker had chosen those too now that he came to think about it.

                Omega’s room was in between Wrecker and Hunters, she had chosen a bright, golden color that seemed to sparkle in the morning sun. Hunter couldn’t help but think how perfect it was for a girl who shined light wherever she went. She had Lula propped up on a pillow on her bed. Tech’s goggles were on her nightstand, silently watching over her.

                Hunter’s room was bare like Crosshairs’. The walls were still the original, pale white. Omega asked him weekly if he had decided on a color yet, but he was struggling to commit to anything. It’s almost like there was too much choice. He still felt a little at sea. He loved their life on Pabu but almost felt that it was too good to be true. He was waiting for whatever was around the corner.

                The Pabu sunrise was glowing gold and scarlet as Hunter made his way out onto the stone patio. He was still getting used to the feel of cold rock on his feet. He missed the clang of his boots on the floor of the Marauder, but that time had passed.

He let out a sign as he sat on a wooden bench on the patio, his caf cupped in his hands as he gazed out over the harbor. Most of the boats were already out, looking for today’s catch. He closed his eyes to let his senses take over. He heard moon-yos chattering at the weeping maya tree on Pabu’s crest. The air tasted like salt and honey from the fruit trees littered around the island. He could even hear the murmuring of those at the docks and market. But there was something else.

                Hunter sat up taller in his seat and opened his eyes. It wasn’t anything alarming, but it was something his senses couldn’t quite touch, something he couldn’t quite explain. He closed his eyes again, brow furrowed on concentration as he tried to decern the feeling. It was almost like it was sending magnetic frequencies, but it wasn’t tangible, he couldn’t feel it, he just sensed it.

                His mind quickly went to the Empire. He opened his eyes and searched the sky. Was it a weapon? a ship? A threat? But all he saw was the blue Pabu sky, dotted with high clouds that drifted slowly over the sea.

                Hunter shook his head to try and push the feeling away. He was probably just imagining it.

                “Do not doubt your intuition” a voice said in his head. It sounded like Tech. It was something his brother had told him often, especially as cadets when he was trying to figure out how his enhancements worked and what good they were.

                There was a time when Hunter didn’t know what it meant to smell a droids or taste blood in the air or feel electromagnetic frequencies, when his head felt like it was vibrating on the inside but didn’t know why. Tech had been the one to take an interest, to talk him through it and help him figure out what it meant.

                 They would often camp on the floor of their bunk room, covers contorted into a sensory deprivation room. Hunter would sit inside, blindfolded while Tech remained outside and would prompt him. “What do you smell now? What can you sense? How close am I?” Hunter sometimes felt like one of Tech’s science experiments, but when it started working, when he was able to focus and recall and tap into his sense on command, it became an obsession. It became impossible not to want to learn more.

                He sighed as he shook his head again. There should be a room for Tech here, he thought sadly. No matter how much time had passed, there wasn’t a moment when Hunter didn’t turn around and expect to see his brother’s goggles staring back at him, data pad in hand, alert and ready.

                Hunter suddenly jerked his body away, involuntarily from the space next to him on the bench. In an instant it had felt like someone, or something was there. He stood up and looked at the space. He knew someone was there, he just couldn’t see them.

                He dropped his caf and let the mug break against the tile while simultaneously grabbing for his virboknife. He stood, hunched in attack position, staring at a vacant space. The birds still chirped; the salt air fell into his lungs as his rapid breathing took it in. There was nothing there.

                “Trust your senses,” The voice said again. It was tiney and faint, like it was coming ever so lightly through a speaker on the other side of the planet.

                “Tech?” Hunter said aloud, feeling stupid as soon as he did.

                “Hunter, I’ve been trying to reach you for a while. Are your senses dulling with age?”

                I’m not that old, Hunter thought as he looked across Pabu to make sure he wasn’t losing his grip on reality. Islanders were milling around, chatting as they walked to get groceries or took a pet for a walk along the winding paths.

                He turned his attention back to the empty space that somehow wasn’t empty and sat down.

                “Tech? is that you? How can I… how can you?... what…”

                “I have always been with you, Hunter. All of you” the voice said. Hunter wasn’t ready to believe yet, how could this be? Tech was dead, he’d heard him pull the trigger, Wrecker had seen him fall. He was gone. Maybe Hunter had finally let the stress of the last few years get to him.

                “I don’t know what you are but you’re not him,” Hunter said quietly, sorrowfully.

                “When we were in the rail car you didn’t speak over the comm when I mentioned Plan 99 because you knew it was the only way. You would never have asked me to do it. Would have done anything to save me, but you knew it was the only way to save you all. And so, you were silent. And that haunts you every second of every day.”

                “How can you… How is this possible?”

                “My guess is that you can sense things that until now, we couldn’t quite comprehend, Including the dead.”

“if that was the case, why didn’t that happen on every battlefield we every stepped foot on,” he couldn’t believe he was having conversation with a bodiless voice, not even a voice, a sense. He didn’t hear the words out loud; the conversation was happening in his head. He rubbed his hands over his face and eyes, but the conversation did not end.

                “It is just a hypothesis, but I imagine it involves a connection, a kinship. We lived together all our lives. You can sense me in death just like you could sense me in life.”

                Hunter signed. It sounded like Tech. He’d seen enough to know the galaxy was vast, and he knew very little about most of it. If Jedi could use the force to move objects, who’s to say he can’t sense the dead.

                “How are you, Tech?” he said out loud, his voice soft.

                “I am fine. You do not have to worry, Hunter. I do not feel any pain and I did not feel anything when I fell...It… It was not your fault; it was my choice. It was a choice I would make again, as I know you would have made it in my place if given the opportunity.

                “It should have been me,” Hunter hung his head and brushed as a tear off his tattooed cheek.

                “You are exactly where you are needed,” Tech replied

                “We miss you. Omega misses you a lot”

                “I know.” Tech said and the voice sounded sad for the first time. “I have enjoyed watching her grow up, even if I cannot be there in person. She is quite the pilot.”

                Hunter smiled, “yes, she is. She’s a remarkable kid.”

                “A great deal of that is down to you, Wrecker and Crosshair,”

                “And you,” Hunter added, looking at the vacant space on the bench. If he closed his eyes he could see Tech sitting there, a blurry white outline, but he was there. He sensed Tech smile.

                “You used to say Omega deserves to settle down with a family. Did she get the life she deserves?”

                “Yeah, I think she did, Tech. I think we all did…except you,” Hunter said

                “I am always here, Hunter. I join you for caf most mornings.

                Hunter raised his eyebrow in surprise, but a smile spread to his lips. “I’ll be sure to say hello more often, then.”

                “I would like that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must catch up with a certain pirate,”

                Hunter chuckled as he sensed Tech leave. The air returned to normal next to him, the voice disappeared and the volume of the world around him fell back into its normal rhythm.

                Hunter took a deep breath and knelt down to pick up the shattered pieces of his cup.

                “Hunter, we’re going down to the beach. Batcher needs a run. Do you want to come?” Omega strode out of the door, her blonde hair falling into her eyes, her blue lurka hound bounding after her and leaning against Hunter’s leg for a scratch.

                “Sure kid,” he said. He threw the broken cup away and put his arm around her shoulder as they started on the winding path to lower Pabu.

                “Hey, I think I’ve picked a color for my room,” he told her.         

“Really? Which one?” her eyes bright with surprise.

                “I’m thinking turquoise,”

                “That was Tech’s favorite color,” she said fondly.

                “Yeah kid. It was”

[bedoballoons]

Ok I'm back since I'm no longer busy and was wondering if you could do a lyney,scaramouche,Xiao, kazuha and maybe tighnari with a giyuu or like a reader with a cryo vision that allows her to create life forms similar to alsa I guess and maybe where she has a pet that has like pyro abilities

Welcome back!!! Sorry it took me so long to get to this request done but I absolutely loved writing it and I hope you enjoy!!!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Cryo vision~༺}

CW: Fluffy!

(Includes: Lyney, Tighnari, Xiao, Kazuha, and Scaramouche!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

"No no no! Wait!" You called out to your little pet, hurrying after the fire ball as it rolled along the beach of Fontaine, unbothered by your shouting and flailing. Just as you started to run out of breath, about to use your vision as a last resort, your pet jumped into Lyneys arms, licking his face all over while the magician laughed happily, "Well now, look who it is. Causing trouble for my beautiful partner again are we,...ah but alas you're to adorable to stay mad at." Lyney scratched under your pets chin, earning a happy little noise of approval.

You caught your breath, watching the whole scene unfold and holding back the urge to go, awwwwe. After their cute little moment your fire ball ran back to you, followed by Lyney who immediately pulled you in for a kiss, placing his hat atop your head while you giggled happily.

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnari watched the bird in front of him with amazement...it's entire body pale blue in colour and resembling that of a ice statue...yet it could move like a real bird...he'd never seen anything like it before. That is until you'd used your vision in combat, animals of a frozen nature springing forth into battle while he stood there in complete shock, slightly awestruck by the entire situation.

"And you've been able to do this ever since you received your vision?" His ears quirked in your direction, making you smile for no particular reason, "Yep...ever since I could use the powers of cryo I've been able to make animals of all shapes and sizes, and they stay until I say otherwise too." Tighnari nodded, very gently petting the bird while it chirped away in content, "Incredible..."

𑁍༄Xiao:

If you had told Xiao a couple hours ago that he'd be using a large ice bear as a ride because of a injury he had sustained during a fight over your pet fire ball...he would have turned away from you and acted like you were insane, but now here he was, laying back against the freezing pale blue exterior of bear while you held your traumatized pet in your arms like a poor little baby. The entire two hours before this feeling like something out of a strange storybook.

"You know...when you said you were good with animals...I thought you'd meant animals of natural origin, not ones created by your vision." Xiao turned his head in your direction, his dark teal green hair sweeping over his face and his yellow eyes almost looking a bit dazed as he stared up at you. You looked away shyly, a light blush coating your cheeks as you watched the sunset, "I'm still good with animals, I just prefer the ones that are a bit cold...they usually have the warmest hearts."

𑁍༄Kazuha:

You weren't sure how long you'd been laying in bed, listening to the soft sounds of Kazuha laughing while he played with your pet and made waffles for breakfast. Even though you were hungry and very awake by now, you just couldn't bring yourself to interrupt such a sweet sound, afterall it wasn't often there were mornings as perfect as this...and you just wanted to enjoy it for as long as it would let you.

Of course it couldn't last forever, before long you heard Kazuhas footsteps walking towards you and you quickly shut your eyes and pretended to be asleep, excitement suddenly coursing through your veins when you felt his weight on the bed. It took everything in you to keep your blush at bay when he placed a sweet kiss on your forehead and cupped your cheek in his hand, "Good morning angel"

𑁍༄Scaramouche:

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Give it back you pathetic worm!" Scaramouches blood was boiling, more threats spilling from his lips than you had ever heard,...but you just couldn't stop laughing, your stomach sore from over use and your eyes watering with happy tears. You had used your vision to create cryo birds, who you then instructed to steal his hat and hold it just above his reach, torturing him with his own shortness while you enjoyed the entire show.

"That's it!" He stopped his failing attempts to retrieve his hat and walked over to you, his purple eyes narrowed with rage, but you for some reason weren't scared in the slightest. "Scaramouche calm down-" You tried but he caught you off, pulling you close to him and kissing you so deeply that when he pulled away you were at a loss for words, staring at his smirk...

"Now who looks like a idiot."

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*⁠.⁠✧

[girlkisser13]

persephone cabin headcanons

children of persephone

• they’re always conceived in the spring or summer.

• in times of conflict, their presence alone can bring hope and peace to others, and they are often called upon to soothe agitated campers.

• SOO many flowers crowns.

• their powers shift with the seasons. in spring and summer, they possess fertility abilities, excelling at gardening and nurturing plant life.

• they help the apollo and dionysus cabins put on hadestown.

• during autumn and winter, they tap into their underworld connection, enabling them to see ghosts, cause tremors in the earth, rip souls away, shadow travel short distances, and occasionally curse others.

• they can summon the opposite set of powers out of season, but doing so requires a significant amount of energy and effort.

• like their mother, they have a dual personality— kind and nurturing one moment, but stern and unyielding the next.

• they’re basically the mom friend.

• they have a deep empathy for both life and death, understanding the cycles of nature and the importance of both joy and sorrow.

• this makes them great counselors and therapists.

• they have a deep respect for animals, especially deer, as it is their mother’s sacred animal, and they may see hunting as unnecessary or cruel.

• this respect extends to all wildlife, making them strong advocates for animal rights and conservation.

• their connection to the natural world make them instinctively protective of animals, leading them to actively work against activities that harm wildlife.

• they become involved in efforts to protect endangered species or restore damaged ecosystems.

• many of them engage in activism to protect wildlife and prevent hunting, using their abilities to create safe havens for animals and advocate for laws that protect them.

cabin exterior

• the cabin is adorned with intricate floral patterns and vines that seem to bloom and twist around the structure, reflecting persephone’s domain over flowers and the seasons.

• the exterior changes with the seasons— lush and vibrant during spring and summer, with blooming flowers and greenery, and transitioning to more barren and earthy tones during fall and winter.

• the cabin is painted in shades of emerald green and gold, symbolizing persephone’s connection to nature and the wealth of the underworld.

• a winding garden path leading up to the cabin is lined with a variety of flowers and plants that bloom in different colors, guided by magical enchantments to always be in full bloom.

• the structure is made of ancient, weathered stone with carvings of persephone’s symbols— like pomegranates, flowers, and butterflies— etched into the walls.

cabin interior

• like the demeter cabin, this cabin RADIATES cottage core energy.

• the cabin’s color scheme incorporates soft, earthy tones such as shades of green, gold, and pale pink, with accents of deep black and purple representing persephone's connection to the underworld.

• the walls are covered in murals and living vines that bloom with seasonal flowers like daisies, roses, and poppies. a canopy of intertwining branches drape across the ceiling, with small blossoms that glow softly in the dark.

• large windows let in plenty of natural light during the day, giving the space a warm and inviting atmosphere. at night, lanterns made of celestial bronze are enchanted to mimic the flicker of fireflies, providing a soft, ethereal glow.

• the furniture is made from natural materials like wood and stone. chairs and beds are carved with intricate designs of flowers, vines, and pomegranates. the cushions and bedding are plush and adorned with floral patterns.

• each member has their own area adorned with their favorite flowers or plants. there is also a small altar with offerings of pomegranates, flowers, and seeds, honoring their mother.

cabin traditions

• at the beginning of each spring, they participate in a special ritual to welcome the return of spring. this involves planting new flowers and trees around the camp, blessing the fields with good growth, and crafting flower crowns to wear throughout the day. this ritual symbolizes renewal, growth, and the reawakening of nature.

• they have a sweet tradition could involve exchanging flowers among cabin members as a sign of friendship, support, or goodwill. each type of flower has its own meaning, allowing members to communicate their feelings through these natural tokens.

• they have a special garden that they tend to throughout the year. this garden is filled with flowers and plants sacred to persephone, such as poppies, lilies, and pomegranates. they spend time together planting, weeding, and caring for this garden as a way to connect with their mother and each other.

• at important camp events or ceremonies, they create and wear intricate flower crowns. these crowns are crafted for themselves or as gifts for others, symbolizing the beauty and strength of nature.

• they also have a tradition of making a special crown for any camper who has achieved something significant, honoring their accomplishment.

divider by @strangergraphics

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Historic 1769 Colonial style home in Keymar, MD has been renovated and redecorated in a variety of styles. Firstly, they painted the distinctive brick exterior pale gray, with an orange door. It doesn't look bad, but it's not the traditional, iconic look. It has 4bds, 4ba, 5,227 sq ft, and they're asking $3m. If you are a purist when it comes to historic homes, you probably won't like it.

Now, remember- I said that it was done in a variety of styles. The entrance hall has Oriental themed wallpaper. They stripped the newel post and railing on the stairs and left it bare wood, (I like that look, but it needs a flat protective finish, b/c it's going to get very dirty), plus a new floor has an inlaid border.

The light fixture was removed from the ceiling medallion and they did a copper-look design on it.

The sitting room is very non-traditional with it's bright green walls but the ceiling mural has a colonial scene. Above the fireplace they have colored mirror squares.

The next room has a large jungle leaf print and a wooden hippo, elephant, plus a trunk.

This room has a wall of shelving and opens to hall stairs.

The family room has a dark, rustic, nautical look with black and deep green walls. This room has wood paneling that was painted over, plus a brick trim around the top. I wonder if they darkened the brick.

I have seen faux aged walls, but this one looks like black mold. It's well done, but unusual. They left the pocket doors and beadboard, but painted them dark gray. Ironically, the sink cabinet looks very colonial.

The tub has a framed skull print above it and some stuffed animals on the ledge. The shower is modern.

The dining room is gray & black with a French cabinet. The table is a pine colonial.

The large kitchen has a rustic ceiling and 3 different cabinet colors- blue, gray, and colonial red. The ceiling looks like flooring to me. The glassware cabinet looks French.

The open concept space has a dining room with a big stone fireplace and stripped doors on the patio. The gold glassware shelf is a French pastry stand.

The primary bedroom has a traditional look. Nice big fireplace in here. The wood paneling was painted white and there's a mural on the coffered ceiling.

This smaller bedroom has nice wallpaper. It even has a colonial rocking horse in the fireplace.

This is a lovely bath. I like the cabinet and closets.

There's a 2 car garage with a space between that they've turned into a home gym/man cave. There's also a sleeping area.

They painted this beautiful barn-turned-home a dark gray, including this wonderful brick wall on the side.

It's lovely inside with slate flooring.

There's also storage for the big Home Depot skeleton.

This garage has a sitting room downstairs and more of a hangout space upstairs.

The main house has a patio.

Lots of space. There's even another small stone building.

There's also a pond on the 25.02 acres of property.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/11210-Cash-Smith-Rd-Keymar-MD-21757/67480669_zpid/?

[everythingelseisextra]

Everything Is Fine

Request: No Description: Tired of being stuck in the same life every day, you decide to face your anxiety and go into town. You spend hours going unnoticed, until someone, finally, speaks to you. Warnings: idk there's mentions of alcohol? also the reader has anxiety? Word Count: 1547 Author's Note: This will be a multi-chapter fic slow burn Tommy x horse trainer reader. I am absolutely begging people to read it. I'm putting a lot of myself into this and hopping people like it. I'm a little nervous to post it, to be honest. Please lmk whether I should continue or not.

It’s been weeks. You do your work, lifting bales of hay and dragging buckets of water to and from stalls. You exercise the horses and deal with the insanity that comes from off-the-track animals. You go until you’re dizzy and sweating and then finally take a break to breathe and drink and eat. And then you go home, and you sleep in your tiny bedroom, and eat breakfast in the gray light of dawn, and it’s fine. Everything is fine. And your whole life is just a constant cycle of fine. Trying to shake it from you feels like trying to swim to a shore you don’t know exists, while the sea expands around you, endless. There’s nothing wrong with it, you think. There’s nothing wrong with the act of treading water, unless you start to drown. But you can stay afloat. You can always stay afloat. And everything is fine. 

It’s been weeks since you moved here, and, for the first time, you decide to go into town. You take your time, body heavy, weighed down by the faint storm in your mind, and duck your head as the cab pulls up. You can’t afford a car. Silence fills the small interior as the driver moves off, heading towards the faint outline of the city on the horizon. The countryside looms, pale green hills cut through with brown and gray paths, and you’re small, insignificant, because there’s so much around you and so little inside you. Soon, the hills smooth into flat, paved sidewalks and roads, and the car wanders through the wreckage that is Small Heath, the closest town to your property. Around you, shouts and the murmur of other vehicles, flashes of dark-dressed people, children running amuck on the streets. 

“Where to?” The driver asks, their voice quiet. 

“Wherever’s closest and serves alcohol.” You place your hands in your lap, staring out the window at the black and gray around you, the shadows dancing across stone walls, the flicker of lamps as being lit as night draws close. 

The driver nods.

After a few minutes, you’re greeted with a dark exterior, matching the rest of the city. Nothing special, but you didn’t ask for anything special. You asked for alcohol. You pay the driver and step out of the car, looking up at the words The Garrison resplendent in gold above the entrance. Some light in this city of devils. You shake your head, questioning your own sanity in setting foot in a big city like this. You’re from the country. You’re made to live small days and dream small dreams, stay in the quiet outskirts. And, yet, here you are. 

You enter, with some trepidation, and quietly make your way through wooden tables to take a seat at the bar, eyes on the grayed photos decorating the wall in front of you. You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, and let your thoughts flow freely, trying not to judge yourself. The chatter of voices surrounds you, and the creak of chairs as weights shift, the clatter of glasses on tables. You’re dressed differently than everyone else in this bar. You hadn’t changed after work. Jodhpurs and a tight, tucked-in shirt, no overcoat. You release a tense breath and look up as the bartender approaches you. 

“Gin, I guess. Last Word, if you can do that.” You hate how shy you make yourself sound. You can face off a twelve-hundred pound animal with no fear, but become timid at any form of social interaction anywhere but your property. It makes you cringe. 

The bartender, a young blond woman, smiles faintly and nods at you. You go back to looking down at your hands in your lap, ears tuned to the noises around you. You catch phrases from conversations, little sayings, the chatter filtering in and out like a badly tuned radio. You receive your drink and sip slowly, waiting for the alcohol to find its way into your system and calm you, if only a little. The hair on the back of your neck raises; there are eyes on you.

As the night goes on, you find yourself in a cyclorama of constant movement, with you in the center. People come in and out. Shouting, standing on tables, making drunken toasts. Chairs get knocked over, thrown, laid on. The bartender calls to some of the men, smiling her little smile, and, at one point, sings a lilting tune that you faintly recognize but don’t know the words to. All the while, you’re still, silent, your own anchor in the blowing storm of the sea. 

No one sees you. No one cares. You finish your drink and sigh. Maybe part of you hoped someone would notice you, come over and speak to you. Maybe part of you wanted something more than fine. Maybe part of you thought you were some kind of special, some kind of chosen, the main character of your own story. Maybe part of you—

“Never seen you here before.” A voice next to you, low and gravelly, but soft enough that you don’t jump. 

You open your mouth to speak. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t seem to let them out. You shake your head, frustrated. The words are there. You can feel them burning on the inside of your throat; never been here before. You can’t speak them. You can’t even look at the man beside you. 

“Who are you?” His accent is different than yours, stronger. The softness starts to dissipate from his words and you grow tense, trying to breathe, trying to hold it together. 

Again, you try to speak, but can’t find the words. 

“I asked you: who are you?” He steps towards you. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch icy blue flicking over you, dark, high-quality clothing, and a cap held loosely in his hand on the bar, glinting in the golden light. That gets your attention, and you turn your head slightly, trying to get a good look without actually looking. Slim slivers of silver line the brim of the hat. 

“When I ask a question, I expect an answer.” Now there’s a threat in his voice and you pointedly look away. 

“I’m not from around here,” you say. You don’t want this man to know you. You don’t want a man who carries hidden weapons and threatens on the first meeting to know who you are. 

His head lifts slightly, so he’s looking down at you, and his mouth opens a bit, his tongue at the inner edge of his lips. Thinking. When he speaks, the threat is gone, the faint burn of his words completely erased. “You race horses?” 

You shake your head. 

“Why are you dressed for riding, then?” His arms cross, the cap on his left side. You track it silently, still not looking at him.

“I train them.”

“For racing.” He nods to himself, starting to look away from you, seeking his next target.

“No. After.”

He looks back, those piercing eyes back on you. Half of you wants to shrink into nothing, and the other part— well, the other part is fascinated with the idea of being someone else for the night, slipping into someone else’s skin and walking around, of being brave and social. His eyebrows raise slightly, a request for more information. 

You sigh, turn yourself in your seat, and face him. Brave. “I rehab horses that injure themselves on the track. Instead of shooting them, they give them to me.”

“Never heard of that.” You’re caught in his gaze, trapped there, and the most you can do is stare back. He sounds dismissive. 

“It’s real. You can come see it for yourself.” The words escape you before you ask them to, before you have time to think them through. Inviting a stranger to your property, where he could do anything he wanted to you in the middle of nowhere, where your screams would travel over the hills and reach no one. 

“Who are you?” He asks again. 

You shake your head. “I’m no one.” 

“Where are your stables?” 

You bite the insides of your cheeks for a moment. There’s no way of getting out of this. You already invited him. “A straight shot into the Northern countryside from Small Heath.”

He gives you a single nod. “Expect me tomorrow morning.”

You close your eyes, a faint burning sensation in the back of your throat. “Okay.”

You hear him start to walk away, heavy footsteps on the wooden ground, then, they stop, and your blood goes cold. 

“Thomas Shelby,” he says, and you open your eyes to find him looking over his shoulder at you. You get your first, non-panicked look at him. Small, well-muscled stature, with the posture of a man who doesn’t mind taking up space. Pitch black hair, shaved in the typical anti-lice style, with pale, porcelain skin and sharp cheekbones. And those eyes. Those eyes that look with such pointed intention, like every glance is a web of planning and strategy. 

“What?” So distracted by his appearance, you don’t catch his words. 

“My name. Thomas Shelby.” His head turns away from you, and his next phrase is faint. “Remember it.”

Part Two: Commit to the Bit