#unrealistic because they would not attend an event if they knew the other would be there

[alalumin]

Grandparent divorce is wild, I dreamt I was trying to keep them from seeing each other while on the same house for a family event.

[mimymomo]

Recently I rewatched High School Musical 3 and I’ve come to a realization: Gina’s ending in HSMTMTS s4 is literally a new interpretation of Gabriella’s ending in the the find HSM movie!

I always understand the importance and significance of Gina ending up staying in SLC and securing the movie deal — her finding that balance between her ambition/strive from career success and her desire for stability and need for community and proving she’s a better match for Ricky since her decision (and the entire finale/season itself) is a parallel to Nini and Ricky’s relationship in s2 (Nini would choose her career/growth over her relationship (which is completely understandable!) Gina wouldn’t. She’d fight for both).

I knew others saw the ending as kind of a stretch and unrealistic and while I accepted that rationale, I never personally agreed because the finale’s resolution never bothered me (mostly because Gina is tied with Ricky as my favorite character and I think she deserves nothing less than everything and all the happiness in the world).

I initially took Gina’s ending as the show updating the ending of HSM3 (which is where the season major inspiration is from) so Gina didn’t have to make a choice like Gabriella did. But on my recent rewatch I’ve realized I was completely wrong!

GABRIELLA — JUST LIKE GINA —CHOOSE BOTH!

Gabriella’s arc in the last movie was about her having to choose between attending Stanford at the cost of leaving high school school early and missing out on her prom, school musical and graduation or staying in Albuquerque and missing out on an once in a lifetime opportunity that would absolutely help in the future. Initially, at the behest of everyone around her including her mom, best friend and her own boyfriend, she chooses Stanford. She nearly misses out on all these events she’d been involved in and looking forward to attending and resolved herself to that fate until Troy shows up on prom night and reassures her that he wants to be with her and then she decides to go back to EHS and go to participate in her musical and graduation.

Now who does that sound like?? Just switch Gabriella’s name with Gina in s4!

Gabriella (Gina) had to choose between attending Stanford (New Zealand for a movie role) at the cost of leaving high school school early and missing out on her prom, school musical and graduation (leaving Ricky and all her friends behind for 6 months until after they all graduated and left EHS) or staying in Albuquerque (SLC) and missing out on an once in a lifetime opportunity that would absolutely help in the future. Initially, at the behest of everyone around her including her mom (Terri), best friend (Ms. Jenn in this case) and her own boyfriend (Ricky under the guise of it being the right thing to do), she chooses Stanford (New Zealand). She nearly misses out on everything and resolved herself to that fate until Troy (Ricky and her friends in the theater club) shows up and reassures her that he wants to be with her (the club giving their support at the signing, Ricky singing Love You Forever openly declaring his love for her) and then she decides to go back to EHS and go to participate in her musical and graduation (Gina changes the contract so she’s able to stay in SLC and negotiates with Quinn to make sure she has time in her schedule for her upcoming spring musical because doing that with Ricky/her friends is just as important to her as being Juliet in a major Hollywood blockbuster).

Gina, just like Gabriella before her, gets her cake and eats it too! She truly is hsmtmts’ Gabriella through and through!

[wiumgtmktg]

How I became a Leatherneck at a school I had never heard of!

I remember like it was yesterday that Saturday afternoon during my second semester of my junior year of high school when my dad said “Hey, Bud. We have to start getting some colleges lined up for visits this summer.”  It was the middle of the afternoon, and I had just woken up after being up until the early morning hours playing video games. The idea of visiting a college seemed an awful lot like adulting. It was hard to believe I was at that stage of my life.

We went through the tried-and-true routine of “Where do you want to go?”, “How far from home do you want to be?”, “What do you want to study?”.  To the surprise of no one, my response was “I don’t know” to each of those questions. It felt like at seventeen years old, they were asking me to make a commitment that would impact the rest of my life, and all I wanted to do was go hang with my friends.

After several tough conversations, we identified three or four possibilities that warranted a visit. My brother is only two years older than me, so I had the benefit of tagging along to all of his campus visits. As to be expected, it ultimately came down to two scenarios. I had to decide if I wanted to be on a smaller campus with a more intimate setting and smaller class sizes or, did I want to be part of the huge sporting events and large activities at a bigger school that included seven hundred students in my history class.

Ultimately, I decided the smaller school was best for me. Although I had cleared that hurdle, I was still struggling with my decision on which school. My dad mentioned that he had a close work friend that graduated from Western Illinois University, and he was heavily involved in their alumni program. My first question was, “Where is Western Illinois University?”  Once he replied, my second question was, “Where is Macomb, Illinois?”  To be honest, I was not really sure even after he told me. He gave me his name and phone number and asked that I give him a call to see what he had to say. With nothing to lose, I called Mr. Kim Ekena to ask him about Western Illinois University. Little did I know the impact that conversation would have on my life.

After I introduced myself to Mr. Ekena, I said, “My dad said you went to Western Illinois.”  The genuine excitement in his voice when he responded was amazing. Kim attended WIU over forty years ago, but his enthusiasm made it feel like he was still going to school there. I was amazed at how much pride he had in his alma mater. Granted, it is common for people to be proud of their college, but this was different.  His passion was so genuine and heartfelt that it made me excited, and I knew nothing about the place. Needless to say, after our conversation, I asked my parents to arrange a visit to Macomb.

The weather was beautiful for our visit. The campus layout made it easy to access all areas without the need for a car or bike. The people were friendly, and the community was welcoming. Unfortunately, I did not have that magical moment I was hoping for after speaking with Kim. The university had everything you would want and was as nice as any other place we had visited. Because Kim’s passion was contagious, I went on the visit with unrealistic expectations. 

And then I met Assistant Professor Honey Zimmerman. Mr. Ekena had a great relationship with Ms. Zimmerman and asked her if she could spend a little time with me during my visit. The conversation started with Ms. Zimmerman stating, “So, Kim tells me you’re trying to find a college.”  Immediately after my response of, “Yes, ma’am.,” I felt like I was back on the phone with Kim.  As Honey sat up in her chair, she got a big smile on her face. Her voice level increased a couple of notches, and she began to tell me about life at WIU and what it means to be a Leatherneck. It was incredible how similar their level of love and appreciation for the university were. As with Kim, a few seconds into the conversation, it was as if she was back on campus as a student herself. I instantly started getting that same feeling I got with Kim, excitement about a place I knew nothing about. I could not help but think that these two cannot just be the exceptions.  There must be something to this place.

Once we returned home, my dad mentioned that he believed a couple he and my mom were good friends with went to WIU. Dr. Gina Segobiano was the Superintendent of my school district, and her husband Tony was a financial planner with Edward Jones. They were high school sweethearts, and Tony received a scholarship to play soccer at WIU. Gina made the decision to attend WIU to be with Tony. Since my parents were good friends with the Segobiano’s, my family also had a lake house near them. The Segabianos and my family spent a lot of time together at our lake houses. One of the weekends at the lake after our trip to WIU, we were at the Segobiano’s house, and my mom mentioned our WIU visit. Well, let me tell you, it was Deja vu all over again. Mr. and Mrs. Segobiano both got a huge grin on their face and became very animated as they talked about their WIU experience.  It had been over thirty years since they attended WIU, and as with Mr. Ekena and Ms. Zimmerman, it was like they were back on campus that night reliving their best life.

In a matter of six weeks, I had four middle-aged adults talk to me about WIU in a manner that is usually reserved for grandparents showing off their grandbaby for the first time. It would have been easy to discount the experiences had it not been for the incredible consistency in their stories. There were four people in four different age groups from various parts of the state telling me a story as if they were all reading it off the same piece of paper. That was enough to convince me there was something special about Western Illinois University and that was where the next chapter of my life should take place.

As I prepare to start the second semester of my junior year at WIU in pursuit of a marketing degree, you may wonder if that passion I experienced from others three years ago was real or not.  I think the best way to answer that is by sharing the fact that a friend of mine from home that is two years younger than me started at WIU this past fall and is now my little brother in the Delta Tau Delta fraternity.  Apparently, when I would go back home to visit for the weekends, without realizing it, I would channel my inner Kim Ekena, Honey Zimmerman, and Mr. and Mrs. Segobiano when my friends would ask, “How’s Western?”.  Yes, the passion is real, and the smiles are genuine. Go Leathernecks!

[persephoneyss]

Doomeds.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x f! Reader. Ft. Bts.

Genre: Yandere, dark themes, anguish, suspense.

Summary: ❝We are doomeds, wandering in eternal suffering.❞

Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsession, stalking / stalking on cameras, humiliation, unspecified forced marriage, n*n-c*n explicit sexual relations (on the reader), abuse of power, implicit murder, drug use, kidnapping, hitting, manipulation, dating previous trauma, alcoholism and depression (in Yoongi), accusations of infidelity, dub-con (in Yoongi's case), the reader is in school but is of legal age, death threats, really strange facts. Possibly this would qualify as dark fantasy since everything is so unrealistic.

Number of words: 10,000+

︙Author's note: *sighs* This is the longest fic I've ever written, and I honestly don't know how it turned out because I didn't read it twice like I always do before publishing it. But my beautiful baby helped me correct, I hope you enjoy it and please read the warnings well, I do not want lawsuits. Thanks for being here!

(Sorry for any mistakes, my first language is not English and I am not fluent either.)

Puedes leer este fic y más aquí en español.

If they ever had to ask the reality of events it would be ... Unbelievable. Thinking of how just a simple action changes everything in an already established and perfect environment.

A life.

Your minutes, hours and days were the same under your criteria and eyesight, you study in the mornings, you work in the afternoons and you attend to your homework at night. It was a good routine that used to be repetitive at times, it was fun to follow, even more so in your part-time job.

You could meet many people working in one of the best cafes in the city, your classmate insisted too many times that you work with her saying that could recommend you and you should not even pass a test, they would only accept you for her.

It was a good opportunity and you accepted it with a smile, although she was long gone from work, you were still grateful for the good salary and health insurance that they gave you every month.

"An American coffee with a spoon of sugar and a green tea cake with cream on top." Your mouth and hand move in sync, the client nods silently. You smile, pointing out other details before asking what name you would give the order.

With a sigh, he name came out like a gust of light wind. "Min... Min Yoongi."

You write his name on the screen, the little receipt paper comes out of the machine. You hand it to him by brushing his hand with yours, strangely cold and pale. A chill runs through you but you ignore it, continuing with your work.

"Good Morning _____!" One of the employees greets you kindly, you correspond still concentrated on serving the mysterious stranger's coffee. "Do you have a request for me?"

"Oh, uh... Yeah, this is for table four."

Yun smiles taking the tray with Yoongi's coffee and cake, arriving at his table. The man's expression can be dazzled even under his black mask that covers half of his face, his eyes look for you before colliding with you. YYou refuse to play along, continuing with your work, you had a lot to do and wasting time flirting wouldn't really help you make money.

However, it became pointless trying to ignore him when he kept coming back day after day. Week after week. Tormenting your head, Yoongi was not the first nor the last handsome man you would see coming often, your work establishment was literally in a strategic area and not cheap, you knew that many men and women with money frequented them to drink a coffee or eat some delicacy, even sometimes they only came in to sit for a few hours attending to their affairs over the phone.

It was fine, it was comfortable. You weren't expecting too much, sitting behind a counter, always having to fake a smile despite being tired.

Perhaps it was the constant visits that led you to start a conversation with him. You had about an hour of rest, you prefer to spend those few moments sitting in front of the window of the premises eating any cake that was a few days before expiring to avoid paying for consumption, you felt comfortable in that place that seemed so far from all the other clients.

Until his voice interrupted once, he seemed as calm as ever. His gaze lost from you elsewhere avoiding making contact with you, nervous apparently. His rough and austere tone was changed to a bolder and lower one, asking if he could sit next to you for a few minutes.

"Sure, sit down... he's not busy." It was your answer without having any problem in sharing your place so secret, so comfortable. It was still just as safe even with him present.

And in much the same way, everything became a silent routine. You heeded his order, you took your rest next to him and then you both left at one point. The talks became more common, he being the first to ask about such insignificant things as the rise in the market in the country and how prices should start to rise in coffee as well.

You laughed, you really did it by getting his attention and sharing your reaction.

They both started laughing at how strange it all started, and it was always the perfect anecdote to tell their friends about how they met.

Everything was perfect, like a painting by a great artist, what you would see would be beautiful and cheerful colors, adorning both of you possibly holding hands with a smile and a loving expression from the man who was now your partner. Her pale skin and angelic face represented on beautiful thin paper, presented to the world as a painting that reflected a symbol of love between two souls met in a casual cafe and who wanted each other so much. Too much.

Yoongi was the clear representation of an ethereal person, casual and elegant, polite and kind, protective but not possessive. Simply to the target.

Your routine didn't change much after starting your relationship, you kept walking to your school in the mornings, you attended the cafeteria in the afternoons and you rested at night. Perhaps the only significant thing that you would get out of your boring schedule was your boyfriend's proposal about moving with him to the house of his best friend, almost a brother as he described it, and avoiding paying for your little apartment. You had made one and a thousand excuses, making Yoongi shut them all up.

"Jin is my brother, he would never take advantage of us. I already mentioned the proposal, about you... I have been living there for a few weeks, I assure you that you will be like family."

Family?

Your face relaxed for a few seconds, you had abandoned that feeling and sensation long ago since you moved from your home in your native country. Your mother used to call you every night but little by little that habit was lost, she also had her own problems and being aware of you as if you were a child was ridiculous.

"It's fine." It was your final decision, nervously you moved your hands in the air explaining what you would not accept.

Do not invade your privacy.

You had spent days thinking about how to introduce yourself to them, because apparently there would be more than just Jin, Yoongi and you in that house. Your things were scattered in boxes, you stood in the middle of the almost empty room still nervous about meeting new people and friends of your boyfriend.

That they were now family. Literally family.

The moving truck was parked in front of a large house, it had two stories and an incredibly large garden. More like a forest than an ordinary garden, you got out of the car trying to clean your clothes as much as possible and look presentable. Although it was difficult when your whole body was covered in dust after lifting the boxes.

"I'm not ready, Yoon." You say, containing your anxiety that vibrates to the surface of the skin within you.

Her hand gently brushed your cheek, giving you a bit of reassurance. "You look beautiful, they will accept you anyway." Her lips came up to yours, giving you a quick and soft kiss. "I just remember that I love you, and I know all my brothers will too because you are perfect."

You thanked the little compliment in a whisper, the door of the house opened just after the two of them left, you automatically showed a friendly smile approaching the first person to leave. He was a tall and rather handsome man, he seemed very well dressed to be indoors on a Sunday, more like he was going out to an important business meeting. He looked flawless and elegant.

"The suit was not necessary, Nam!" Shouted your boyfriend behind you mocking, the man laughed showing all the charm of him to your eyes.

"I'm Namjoon, Yoongi's friend. Nice to meet you... _____, right?"

"Yes, it's me. Sorry to see me so disastrous, it was a tiring day with the move."

Namjoon seemed like a very nice and incredibly understanding guy, his presence made you want to meet your boyfriend's other friends. You opened the door entering the house after Yoongi asked you to find your room to start carrying the other things, Namjoon stayed behind to help him, leaving you alone on your unknown route. You walk all over the place and you are surprised that you only walked through the living room, your eyes straying to a noise in the kitchen.

Curious.

You ignore it, continuing your way up, you read every name on the doors. Jin, Namjoon, Yoongi, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook. All written brilliantly on each different door, you walk a few steps to one that says your name and you thank it with a sigh.

You weren't surprised by how big it was, everything inside that place seemed to be exorbitant and out of the ordinary.

"Oh, it must be you." You are surprised to hear a voice behind you, you turn around in fear before remaining calm. You recognized her face from a photo Yoongi had on her phone.

"Jimin?" You ask with fear of being wrong.

"It's me, it's nice to finally meet you. Jin-hyung said you're moving in a few days, I didn't think it would be so soon." His voice seemed to be calm but there was a hidden question. Why? Why were you there?

You take a few uncomfortable steps back. "It really was, but ... I thought it would be better to do it today that I don't have classes, plus Yoongi doesn't work this day and it seemed like the right thing to do. I'm sorry if bother you."

"No you don't. it's okay, Welcome." With that one simple word he left.

You thought you would have a longer talk with him but you weren't expecting too much, they didn't even know each other and you plan to chat with him like they were old acquaintances. Well, naive.

It seemed strange to you that no one else showed up in the whole house, even when you were uploading the last boxes of the move no one seemed to be a little curious to meet you. Aside from the already friendly Namjoon and the reserved Jimin.

"Yoon" You get his attention, he smiles at you taking the sheets out of your suitcase and making your makeshift bed ready for the night. "Do your friends work today?"

"I guess so, they really don't spend a lot of time together or at home." Explain without noticing your downcast face. You nod, putting the issue aside and concentrating your eyes on arranging your clothes. "Hey... Okay, you can meet them all at dinner today."

Your chest clenches in anguish, "Dinner?!"

"Yes, darling. It's the only time they meet all day, when Jin-hyung cooks for us especially on days like these where we have pleasant surprises."

You purse your lips annoyed, Yoongi smiles kissing your forehead so carefully and lovingly that it melts your senses. The mere presence of him made you want to continue with him forever, you relax for a few seconds hugging his body in silence. They both stay like this, with nothing to say but telling each other everything at the same time.

The thought of ever letting go scares you.

You wait several hours, still sitting in the same place where Yoongi left you. You should be presentable for dinner, you take a quick shower before running to change into a nice comfortable dress, you try not to overdo it but also not show disinterest. From the stairs you hear everyone's mixed voices, chatting animatedly.

"Honey, come here." Yoongi watches you, being the only one to notice that you were peeking in the shadows still unsure of interrupting.

You say hello by walking a few steps until you reach your boyfriend's side, you present yourself the best you can. Everyone falls silent, Namjoon smiles at you just like he did before. Jin interrupts the moment where no one seemed to have anything to say about you, or if he wants to want to introduce himself.

"Today we have a special guest, the dear girlfriend of our brother. I introduce myself, I am Jin the official cook of this family." His body bends down with an exaggeratedly long bow, proud of his words. Jimin rolls his eyes, while his other siblings just choose to tease. "On Yoongi's orders we made her favorite dish, so I don't want any complaints of any kind about the food. I'm looking at you Jungkook."

You are surprised how well everything is going, you feel praised when your favorite food is in front of you. She looked just as elegant, as if you were eating in a five-star restaurant and at a luxurious table with silk tablecloths.

Jungkook still stayed away from the talks, preferring to eat quietly and fiddle with his phone. Hoseok was more animated, asking about you and exaggerating anecdotes that happened with his childhood friends. He moved you that he will still remember all that after years. Namjoon vaguely drew your attention with book recommendations when you commented on your love of reading, Jin quietly continued eating in complete tranquility, Jimin thanked the food and just left.

Taehyung... He seemed interesting to you, he was looking at you all the time with narrowed eyes and when Jimin got up and walked away, he followed closely with a small and almost hidden smile.

You had a strange feeling inside what they called home.

"I-I... I need to use the bathroom." You say goodbye by wiping your lips with a napkin before quickly walking behind them both. Something attracted you to want to know more, as if they were leaving clues knowing that curiosity killed the cat and that you wanted to be the one.

Your steps were quiet, even more so when you tried not to be noticed . You went upstairs listening to their voices whispering and then... An obscene moan was clearly heard, Jimin seemed to laugh in the air.

Your hands shook thinking of opening the door and seeing what was happening. And without knowing it, you had fallen into the same network of attraction as them.

You curse yourself biting your tongue and cheek until they bleed, sure that you were going to make a big and heavy mistake. Minutes later you are going down the stairs back to the table but no one is waiting for you anymore, the table was just as spotless and clean. You are pleasantly surprised to learn that they don't treat you like a guest and that they don't wait too long for you. Maybe they had things to do, however you feel a chill when silence comes.

Where were?

You look around the yard, but no one is outside. Neither in the kitchen and less in the room where you had already walked twice. You catch the sound of drums in your ears rumbling loudly, you close your eyes in a daze for a few seconds until in an instant it goes away, and then everything comes back to itself. You hear their voices upstairs, chatting animatedly for the second time.

"Where were you sweetie? Are you okay?"

You nod still confused. How did they... When was that... You were really fine? You refuse to fall into paranoia and lie down next to Yoongi, as they continue their conversation with each other. Your head keeps spinning with the fresh memories you have, but they seem to disappear second by second and it scares you, you open your eyes without wanting to fall asleep yet but it is as difficult as breathing.

You fall into the dark abyss of sleep, feeling the same chill.

Your gaze is lost in the gray sky, you are cold and your body is swaying. Your eyes move restlessly observing that you are under the snow and a person holds you in his arms through the forest, walking at a slow and safe pace.

It's fine. Are you okay.

Wake up. Yoongi greets you from the door of your now room, you try to regulate your breathing thinking that he would notice your overwhelmed state and he would worry, but no. He is as calm as ever, relaxed even.

"Good morning beautiful, it's time for breakfast. Jin-hyung made your favorite." And with that last sentence she is shifting away, closing the door behind he.

You go down the stairs ready to go, your backpack resting on your shoulder. The table is just as full as at dinner, Jimin seemed very tired trying not to fall asleep, you watch him for a few seconds before looking at Taehyung who ignores you taking his cup of ... Coffee. You approach making him recoil alarmed and disgusted, you check the cup realizing that it is the same recipe that you use in the cafeteria.

Like them?

You look up noticing that, you were uncomfortable, Taehyung takes a few steps away from your body almost leaning against his, still sitting in his chair. You apologize to him making me sigh irritated, still ashamed you apologize again without eating or serving anything, just leaving through the front door.

Your journey is reflective. You forget, dream and recognize, that was the pattern you were following, everything seemed so strange and deep down gloomy, you feel the already casual chill running through your entire body almost like a warning.

Your seat in class was empty waiting, ready for you. Ari greets you, being your table companion and friend.

"Hey, intense night?" She jokes, you look shaking his head. She laughs pointing your neck. "You have... something there."

She frowns even more confused, her face leaves her smile aside and she starts looking at her things until she takes out a small mirror and she hands it to you. You look with horror at a large red bruise painting on your skin, it seemed painful but you had not even noticed or felt it. You touch it still scared and nothing, it doesn't hurt or it seems real.

You take a deep breath before lying with silly chatter, "I had an accident, but I'm fine. I had forgotten I was there, it was nothing serious."

Ari seems worried but in the end she forgets it by returning to the same kind and joking attitude of her, but her gaze drops from second by second to your neck making you cover yourself uncomfortable. Who? It can't be Yoongi, he was always very calm in that regard. You think terrified, your hand goes up to touch it and this time you manage to feel a sharp pain.

You have to cover it with the collar of your shirt so that no customer will notice it and avoid staining the reputation of the cafeteria, you smile nervously taking orders as fast as you can and avoiding looks. Yun greets you like every day, arriving at his work time. You spend hours begging for the clock to advance faster, the night sky appears and the doors close, you clear the last counter before you can finally show your neck again and breathe.

"That's a big problem." Yun whispers looking at the horrible mark, you nod with a sigh giving the same stupid excuse you told Ari. "You should use a little makeup to cover it up, I think it will help you a lot."

You think about it for a few seconds before deciding what you would do. You bow to him with a bow after he offered to close in your place and finish the remaining work for you.

You come home with a smile, you greet Namjoon who is reclining on the couch in the living room watching something on TV. You wait a few seconds but you do not receive a small or accidental look, you approach a few steps to repeat it again but you only get him to get up and go upstairs closing the door of his room apparently with a door slam. What the hell? You think covering your face with your hands looking for some comfort.

Everything was happening inside you, it was like a whirlpool sweeping away your sanity. Were you going crazy? Or you were just thinking a lot about nothing.

You try to draw a picture of your situation, but the only thing that repeats is the constant painting of Yoongi and you together.

"Yoongi!" You say to yourself with a smile, you drop your backpack running towards his room, wanting to see him after such a day.

Your hopes fade like air, everything within the space him screams 'he', but he is not there. You check the safe time that he should be home at that moment. You hear Jin's voice screaming from below about dinner ready, you sigh losing your appetite at those moments.

You lie on your bed checking your cell phone in case there was a message from Yoongi warning about he delay but nothing. You feel empty for some strange reason, but there was nothing different about it now.

If I had been more attentive and conscientious, you would have noticed that two more people other than Yoongi and you were missing from the table. Jin smiles sitting in his same place leaving your plate not caring without you being there with them, his smile never fades even when all his brothers are sitting silently eating and looking at your empty place so intensely that it was terrifying, he squeezes the cutlery in his hand without wanting to break the tradition in his family.

Dinners are sacred and no one should be missing. There will be no discussions or complaints, that's what the rest of the time is for.

That was what her mother said, sitting at the table in her old home containing her anger at seeing her husband so calm after having been unfaithful once more. Not on the table, not on the table.

Not on the table, honey.

Jimin opened the last bottle with a little satisfaction, poured another glass before handing it to his friend who was only glaring at the ground.

"She's not like that... I know her." Repeating the same stupid prayer for hours, Taehyung rolled his eyes trying to calm his annoyance, looking at his other friend insisting that he help him.

"Yoongi-hyung you saw it yourself, she had that... That mark. you didn't do it, maybe Tae is right and she-..."

"Not!" I scream interrupting what to him were lies. "_____ she's my girlfriend, she's not like that. I know her ... she loves me! She loves me! Do you understand?" Says exalted, holding the shirt of his friend who closed his mouth immediately, Jimin noticed that same reflection of anger in him and knew it was better to leave it for now.

Taehyung pushed the drunk Yoongi away from his side, making him release him and repeat the same phrase as in his state, he tried to believe himself.

The door to your room was opened and the smell of alcohol invaded you, making you look disgusted. You closed your eyes without wanting to see him, his body fell to the side of your bed approaching your body so slowly that the anxiety inside you doubled.

"I'm sorry..." He whispered.

His hands rested around you, giving you that warmth so familiar and comfortable in your gray days. A sob was heard while you lost yourself in your own thought, you watch it melt into your arms crying and without wanting to tell you why.

"It hurts." It's the only thing it says. But... Why?

You wake up. Just like a week ago, days had passed and it seemed like your skin kept accumulating horrible marks all over the place. You even went to consult a doctor but he only insisted that something... Or someone did them with such fury that it was incredible that a piece of skin will not be torn off by the force of his suction.

You touched the last mark that came, it was dangerously close to your crotch, you try to hide the others with makeup but they were still visible at a short distance.

You went down the stairs to see them all again, you greet with regret taking the first thing you find. Your mug had your name written on it, it was a rather curious gift from Jin after your melancholic night with Yoongi days ago, he apologized explaining that he felt bad after hearing all the sobs and apologies. For a moment you thought it was something exaggerated but he kept insisting that he felt bad about himself, not with Yoongi who was almost his brother or with you, with him.

You accepted it without wanting to show your dislike for his selfishness and narcissism, thanking him so softly that he hardly heard you.

The special drink that morning was coffee... Americano. You felt insecure to drink it, and you just put it aside.

Same recipe.

Yoongi looked at you for a few seconds before smiling fondly, and you just looked away, leaving him with a confused face as you walk out the door so quickly that he can hardly feel you.

He sighed before being drawn to Jimin's grin-adorned face, he shrugged, hinting at his silent opinion. She is not faithful to you Yoongi, why do you keep waiting for something good? Only looks at her body, her attitude and who she surrounds herself with, it is a classic of womens. You will know that she is a fox hidden under her sheepsuit, just observing her more and you never leave her.

The marks on your body, your cold attitude made him more and more suspicious and fall for Taehyung's profound words. She bit his lip, refusing to spy on your life away from him... Out of his sight.

But he really wasn't doing anything wrong, just observing. In his now dirty head, everything was valid if he could know the truth.

You did the same thing you always told him on his nights where they stayed up talking about his heavy days. You went to school, to work, and then home. Nothing changed your version.

I try to focus on your friends, there was only one girl you spent more time with in your classes and after them. He researched everything about his life, but he had nothing to worry about after learning that he had a boyfriend. He passed your work, standing outside for hours waiting to see you do something dirty or guilty, but you never seemed to move.

You just served the orders and then kindly said goodbye to the customers. He felt guilty for doing something so low to you, until he saw you.

To you.

Your smile grew when one of the workers who was your partner approached your place in the box to whisper something in your ear, you left your place following him towards the warehouse.

Anger consumed him quickly, refusing to continue standing there observing the obvious, possibly he was being irrational and he knew it but the constant insinuations of Jimin. The conversations with Taehyung, his words, his suspicions, the pleased looks from they when he fell back at his feet asking them to tell him what to do with you.

With his damn relationship.

Where were you and him. Not them. You and he.

He opened the door to your room and started going through your things like a degenerate, something must have made him sure that you were cheating on him. Something, a letter, a note, a gift from him, or a simple cheap jewel.

This was your Yoongi? You were clearly looking at another subject.

"Yoon..." You started, his eyes coldly piercing you. He looked different, he was looking at you but you didn't feel safe being so close. "What are you doing?"

"What do you think I do?" He asked how else he will not point to the obvious, for a moment you thought that even if it was, out of respect or dignity, he would try to deny it or find another explanation for his actions so offensive to you. "Where is?"

"Where is what?" You claim, starting to get angry, his eyes leave you again as he continues searching through your drawers, dropping everything to the floor with thudding noises. You get closer trying to push it away but you only get rejection. "Stop it, Yoongi."

"Not until you say so."

You freeze without knowing what he meant by the latter, you take his arm to stop him but you only receive a push that makes you back away this time scared by the force of his attack. "Enough!" You claim this time by making him look at you with his cold eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about and why you're doing this, but enough."

"Then say it..." You shout again that you don't know what he wants you to say, you even curse furiously making him come closer to support your shoulders with his hands bringing you closer to his face. "Say it damn it! Say you're cheating on me with that bastard son of a bitch!"

You feel the pain of his grip, you sob, begging him to release you but are ignored as he continues to ask you to say so. You refuse to lie, especially with something so degrading.

Jin hears the screams as he continues serving the dinner desserts, Jungkook strangely puts aside his phone for a few minutes to thank him with a small toast and a smile that was rarely seen on him.

"The dessert tonight is sweeter than usual."

Jimin raises his glass with a bright smile, Namjoon adjusts his tie tied perfectly around his neck as he sips from his glass, Hoseok laughs eating the delicious cake with enthusiasm.

Curious, a green tea cake with cream on top.

"It's a shame Yoongi-hyung misses out on dessert." Taehyung speaks pretending a pout on his lips, playing with his spoon with the cream on her plate. "It is especially exquisite today."

"Stop playing already, when will you do it? I'm looking forward to getting started." Jin snaps angrily, pushing the cake out of her sight as he drinks from her wine glass.

Jungkook laughs, turning his phone back on to continue playing as usual. "So impatient, hyung." He says he with a click of annoyance.

Jin rolls his eyes, following her gaze to Jimin who is innocently cowering in her chair. Ignoring how completely obsessed Jungkook is with his games, it really was not his business,for something his youngest friend had his parents, who were too busy with their work, they ran the largest electronics factory in the country, leaving his son in the background just giving him everything he asked for without objection. Always showing a smile when little Jungkook came before them demanding a new console or the best phone.

"It only remains to wait..." Whispering, he released a patient Hoseok. His smile as charming as ever. "For her to decide what to do and then... Plot! She fell into the wrong well."

"I hate when you describe and talk like that, but I can't expect much from a Jung... like you."

However, Hoseok never stops smiling even when anger is consuming his mind causing him to clench his fists under the table and bite his tongue inside his mouth, hidden by his gleaming and visible teeth. Namjoon smiles at her, knowing that she managed to provoke him but that she won't do anything to shut him up.

"Pathetic."

Motherfucker.

Jin breaks the tense silence, shushing everyone with a snap. That silence. Nobody hears anything from you or Yoongi, for a moment they feel the anguish that something bad has happened or that his friend has lost a bit ... The hand. But just seconds later you're rushing down, wearing the same clothes and your face covered in tears. You don't even look at them when you run to the door, leaving a trail of emptiness behind you.

"Hm, intense." This is Jungkook speaking, his eyes still lost on the phone screen of him playing a silly online championship. "She will be fine after hours."

"Jungkook is right, now we must move with Yoongi."

Namjoon gets up walking to your room, surprised that everything seems almost the same as it was before their fight.

He smiles when he manages to see his friend laying on the floor sobbing, and like that children's book called Pinocchio, he feels good being that cricket-shaped voice of reason. Only this time that sweet and serene voice, released one and a thousand blasphemies that would contaminate even the most devout by his beliefs.

He managed to convince Yoongi's easy to manipulate mind, blurting out words almost like a song. Playing with the naive self of hes that still lived and breathes inside him.

You had come home after days of spending with Ari and her boyfriend away from him. You really didn't want to set foot in that house again in years, a small irrational part of you believed that it was all his fault, your real problems started when you set foot in that damn place.

You open the door observing the room in the same way, empty. You try not to make yourself feel ready to go to sleep, without having been able to do it in days, but now you doubted that it would be different here.

You remain static in view of everyone, you had forgotten that at that time they were having dinner together. They only met once a day and it had to be right there.

"Good evening, sorry to interrupt." You ignoring Yoongi's gaze that, he's trying not to get too excited about your return, even though she causes he to euphoric whirl. "Carry on, I'll just go to my room."

"Please no, sit with us."

"I'm not well."

"I insist, sit with us. They were difficult days but I know they can fix it." Jin puts a plate in front of one of the empty chairs, you refuse to sit down but you do it out of compromise.

Everyone seems to be exclusively quiet, dinner was gray, like a black and white painting. Remember the first dinner, where everyone seemed to have so much to say and now that was left behind, Jungkook continues to play with his phone sometimes moving his plate by accident, without touching a single silverware with the intention of eating. Jin eats in peace, so slowly that he is strange. Namjoon reads a book in his hand, eating so cleanly that it's amazing.

Hoseok looks at you playfully from time to time, with a smile that almost makes you smile the same. Jimin and Taehyung seem to communicate silently, they both look at each other with slight grimaces and smiles.

"We can talk?" Yoongi whispers, you feel her breath next to you and instinctively you walk away scared. Still hurt by her actions and attitude, you give your vow of silence by standing up and without saying goodbye, you walk up the stairs.

"How rude." Jungkook interrupts, keeping an eye on his screen lighting up his beautiful face. "He didn't even taste the food."

Yoongi looks at Jin, her oldest friend and the one she trusted the most, seeking some advice. But just gets the same treatment as always, a look insisting that go with you and try to fix her mistake.

However, it was late. You had packed a makeshift suitcase by going down as quietly as you could, exiting through the back door like a thief or a fugitive.

You spent days thinking about your cowardly way of running away, but in the same way you felt better and even more so when you did not receive any message from him. Maybe it wasn't that important to him, it hurt but it also relieved you.

You knew it would be awkward to see him in the face again, but you should go back and get your things over with as soon as possible. You naively thought of forming a friendship, a very distant one, but in the end it would be the healthiest thing for both of you.

"______?" Asked the person who opened the door after you barely managed to ring the bell due to nerves, he was clearly confused.

"W-good morning ... Jin." You greet by taking a few steps back to get a better look at it, you had forgotten how tall it was. "Sorry to bother I just wanted to -..."

"Talk to Yoongi? I'm sorry but he's already better without you, he even met someone new." You were surprised by his austere, sour tone and trying to intimidate you. "And you better go, you are not welcome here."

"No ... No, I-I came for my things but I'm glad to know that it's better now, and that ..." The words stayed in your mouth, almost as if it hurt to admit it. "I was able to find someone, I hope we can be friends. Also with you, I'm sorry I left without explaining or saying goodbye properly."

You waited what seemed like ages for her response, and you expected more than a simple nod of the head, letting you pass without a hitch. You searched your room quickly, trying not to have any contact with any of them for now. You opened the door that had your name on it but you were scared by what you found inside, the whole room had been painted blood red, a very dark color that managed to give you such familiar chills.

"What is this? Where are my things?!" You turned around ready to go and claim but the door closed behind you with a stormy noise. You ran to try to open it but it did not move an inch, you searched the whole room for something useful to help you but it was completely empty, and alone.

You sobbed in fear, not understanding what was happening and why it seemed that the walls were getting narrower every second. You fell to the ground, trying to stay calm and without losing your goal, hours and even days passed for you, you waited to hear at least one noise but everything was so quiet that you had to avoid going crazy, you played with your hands trying to distract yourself and think positive things, you had read many books about stressful situations to know that thinking a lot about those things caused even more stress, you lie on the floor sure that a nap will calm everything down, if it was a nightmare you wanted to wake up and if not , you wanted to dream that it was.

A lock, you hear that particular noise and you wake up. You open your eyes as fast as you can lifting your body, the door was slightly open as if someone was exiting. You scream for help but it closes, you fall back into sadness and despair screaming even more for your freedom.

You didn't deserve this.

You look with regret at the delicious food they left for you, for a moment you think about going on a hunger strike but your stomach demands you not to be so stupid. The same would not change anything. Regardless of manners, you eat as fast as you can, dropping quite a bit of food on the ground in your rush.

It had an exquisite taste, and you could recognize it everywhere. It was one of your favorite dishes, you felt disgusted to compare it to your mother's food, but as magnificent as it was, it reminded you so much of her.

You wait for something to happen, but minutes go by in which you just look at nothing, letting your head fly. Thinking of a thousand things, playing with the spoon and singing in a low voice.

You feel hot from one moment to the next, your vision becomes cloudy and the door opens again. You just stay in the same place, you don't care about anything, not even how they hold you by helping you walk into another room.

"You were right, she is very calm now."

You look at him, their faces so familiar and you try to place them, but your head is flying away at that moment. You close your eyes laughing, and drifting into unconsciousness.

You wake up. You open your eyes and you are tied, you struggle with the ropes that hold your arms while the bed below you makes your body bounce. You touch the sheets realizing that they are extremely soft, you are in an unfamiliar room surrounded by scarlet red, with elegant and shimmering decorations. You try to stand up but your legs, like your hands, are tied.

And you're still quiet because of the rag in your mouth.

You fight the bindings furiously, screaming into the cloth as much as you can get sick of being locked up again.

You think of Yoongi, although at that moment it was irrelevant you wonder where she is and if she knew that she was being kidnapped in such a way, would she help you at least? Resignation covers you completely, fighting the bonds again with such force that you feel like they burn your skin every time you move.

You sob, just as he did one fall day.

Yoongi watches you from the monitor in another room, Jin is talking to Namjoon to the side while Jungkook is still sitting in a corner entertaining on her phone. Jimin, Taehyung, and Hoseok seem reluctant to look at each other despite facing each other.

Remember the day, the one in the past, when he met them. Jimin and Taehyung were already friends playing in one of the children's castles, with their hands pretending to be weapons as they ran around. Hoseok was sitting next to his mother, talking and apparently they had a lot to say. Namjoon did not detach from the side of his father who urged him to go up to the games, while Jin was busy collecting Flowers in a basket that his grandmother was holding.

They were all strangers and even more so he, felt out of place surrounded by so many games and away from home. His parents had freed up a whole day to spend together in a decent park, it was several hours of travel from Daegu to Seoul only for his son to play in a beautiful park surrounded by luxurious buildings.

He dropped down next to her mother, hugging her without wanting to let her go.

"Min Yoongi, we didn't take this trip just for you to sit there all day, son."

"I'm scared..." he whispered, biting her lip and hiding her face in the neck of his beloved mother.

"I see... but the games look so much fun. Run and try them, love."

He nodded still uneasy, walking over to one of the swings where he sat rocking so slowly that he seemed still. He felt hands pushing his body from behind, scared he looked at the boy behind him, he had a smile on his face and waved him with a hand.

"Sorry, I thought you needed to be pushed." He spoke and did not seem at all nervous.

"I'm fine, but thank you..." There was a momentary silence before he interrupted again. "I am Yoongi."

"Hoseok, although my mommy calls me Hobi."

He smiled, offering himself this time to push the swing, they spent minutes like this just helping each other take a walk pleasantly. He didn't even think about it when Hoseok offered to talk to Jimin and Taehyung about how they'll all play together in teams.

Now in the present, he smiled again remembering how he met Jin that same day, he had collided with him when he was running so as not to be caught by Jimin. His older friend was flushed with anger, screaming for her flowers and his dirty clothes. His grandmother teased him a bit making him deny even more, he followed Yoongi for several minutes until the chase because of her desire to hit him became a game.

They both fell to the ground tired, laughing before Hoseok introduced himself to Jin. Namjoon arrived shortly after, curious about the commotion and why he had gotten bored of sitting for so long, as he explained later. Besides that his father didn't have the best conversation starters.

He cried so much that very day when he had to go home again, promising to return soon.

"We have everything ready, are you ready?" Jin stood next to him, his eyes looked at him but he couldn't recognize his childhood friend. The same one that he offered to organize his birthday parties when his parents could not afford them, the same one that he never took advantage of his money to lower it. The one who hugged him as many times as he could when he came out of his therapies after his parents died.

Who was this man?

"Y-yes." He murmured still stunned. He got up, following in his footsteps with his head lowered.

They opened the door showing him, you were distracted biting the cloth in your mouth and trying to move your hands to free them.

Your body felt the same repetitive chill making you look at them feeling their presences so... uncomfortable.

"Enough." Jin ordered as you continued your insistent useless movement, trying to free yourself. "I'm not playing around, stop."

Me neither, idiot. You clench your teeth as much as you can at not being able to say it out loud, you stubbornly keep moving even faster than before. Your hair falls on your face from your busy tossing and you stare at him, challenging his patience and judgment.

You try not to tremble when he approaches you with intentions that deep down manage to scare you. But you continue, the bed moves as fast as you do until his hand falls against your cheek causing a gasp to come out of your gagged mouth.

"Hyung!" Yoongi claims holding her hand to prevent her from trying to hit you again, you feel the particular burning on your right cheek and the tears growing back in your eyes. "Please, no blows. That was not what we agreed on."

Jimin cleared his throat, a satisfied smile on his face, "We never specified anything, actually... Yoongi-hyung."

"Jimin is right, you never specified any kind of restriction for her and us." Namjoon clarified making you look at them confused, it was as if they were talking in terms of employment or contract.

But you had never signed anything.

"B-but they can't do that, they'll never accomplish anything if they force her." He tried to persuade him but Jungkook sighed, dropping his phone to the ground and then stepping on it like it was worthless. "She will just hate them."

"She will do it anyway, if we let her off her or try to convince her to stick with sweet words she won't think twice and she will run away ready to report us for kidnapping."

"In addition to the damages that she suffered here." Namjoon continued to condemn Jungkook, uplifting her surname and her family's status.

"You are in this with us or against us, there is still a free place in the basement for you with chains just as heavy."

Again, the same chill ran through you causing you to cringe in your place. These men were insane, they were capable of betraying each other, and worse, they could possibly also consider shooting themselves in the back when they weren't looking at each other. All for you, as if you were some kind of prize for winning and owning.

After moments that seemed eternal, Taehyung was releasing your mouth as you began to complain about what they were doing, how they dared and demanding freedom.

Really a classic, so much so that it was witty and hilarious that you said it literally.

They forced you to kneel on the ground with your hands on your legs still perfectly tied. More questions filled your mouth not knowing what they were planning, all you could do was look at them so scared it was adorable.

"Uh... Well... I guess one should go first." Jin says, taking a few steps away from your crouched figure.

Jimin stepped forward, standing in front of you causing you to look up from your spot below him.

"What are you doing?" You ask weakly, you try to drag yourself away when his hand struggles with his pants to remove it but Jin holds you in place. Getting on his knees to speak into your ear softly.

"You better take a breath instead of trying to run away, honey. I thought you were smarter... hm?" He laughs mocking your scared face, you refuse to open your eyes and mouth making him stop laughing in annoyance.

Jimin sighs taking your face in his hands so roughly that they will surely leave a purple mark on your skin. He was still dressed, I was hoping I could humiliate you more and then fuck your mouth until you suffocate while his hyung explains everything to you. How it all started, his obsession, his plan, they had planned everything so perfect that it was terrifying, everything monopolized on one board.

Soon as soon as possible you will just be a cute housewife and you will forget your life before that day. Not for nothing did they have a closet full of cheerful and homely outfits ready for you, they wanted to destroy you and then put you back together just to serve them.

You would be his wife, of everyone.

"Come on, little bitch..." Jimin started, reaching over to kiss you on the lips even though you refused to do so. You really no longer had a vote or a word of objection in his plans. "Open your eyes darling, you don't want a stray bullet to land in your mother's skull, do you?" He threatened making you obey even more scared than before.

"P-please don't hurt my mother!" You sob, clasping your tied hands in supplication.

"Oh, we won't.... yet." He whispered kissing your lips one last time before imposing himself on your kneeling body. Her cock came out of her pants, stroked a few times before guiding it to your lips. Your stomach contracted, and you pulled your face away as far as you could before Hoseok held you by the hair tightly pulling you close again. "Take it, baby. Everything will be fine if you just obey."

"I hate them, they disgust me" You whisper before Jin forced you to open your mouth making you take it, you fight for a few seconds but her hips are already moving making you choke and gasp. His moans are so loud they make you squirm but his hands hold your head close to him.

"I told you you'll take a breath, but you're a dumb whore." His breath is hitting your neck directly, your skin crawling trying to distract you from anything other than Jimin's cock in your throat causing you to gag and vomit. "I bet you're wondering why, what did you do, and nothing really. Or if Yoongi!"

You do not look at your boyfriend before, you only focus on Jin who smiles, caressing your body with his hands, almost exceeding your limits. However, what did it matter if he did it, there was nothing you could do for yourself.

"You were only here, I think we all loved you from the first moment we saw you. We spent many nights wondering what was special about you, many of us had dated women before but you... You were so different, you had something that attracted us and it made us go crazy. " His hands squeezed your breasts causing you to gasp on Jimin's cock who moaned with pleasure, continuing his steady and hard rhythm. "Taehyung got involved in the matter. "

Jimin smirked when your eyes went up to him, your eyes showing how angry and helpless you felt. And it was exquisite.

"I bet you didn't know about your beloved boyfriend's background,locked up in a rehab center for alcoholics for two years. Three years taking therapy for his depression after the tragic death of his parents, quite strong actually." His words had such a strong past but from his mouth they came out as if it were not so important. Something common for him. "I'm surprised he loved you so much and didn't tell you."

You cried unable to turn your face to look at him, deep down you wanted to put Yoongi aside and not hate him for this. But it seemed almost impossible when he was there, doing nothing, so calm that it was unreal that he had ever looked at you directly and declared his love to you over and over again. For months.

"He really was fine for a while until we decided to make him fall again, one drink after another... First trust him, then question their relationship and finally make them argue." A laugh left his lips, it was almost uncomfortable that he was the only one doing it. Everyone else was so quiet just watching. "But I can't give myself all the credit, let me introduce ourselves well, my dear."

Jimin walked away from you letting you breathe again, you had almost forgotten that he had been doing that act against you. Your tied hands help you hold off the ground by not being able to breathe properly, you feel so weak that you are about to pass out but you refuse to look weak in front of them.

"Kim Seokjin, son of the best chefs in the country and heir owner of thousands of five-star restaurants, inside and outside the country." His body crouched down, making an extremely long bow. Namjoon stood next to him, with the same smile from the day he met you. "Kim Namjoon, the only and adored son of the best lawyers and mayoral candidates, future presidents if occasion permits." There was a strange tone behind his voice, with a knowing wink. "I thought you can guess what Hoseok's parents do, but I'll tell you just in case. Great psychiatrists recognized for their countless achievements outside and within the country, having a tradition from generation to generation, capable of manipulating even the cleverest mind like yours."

Hosoek smiled at you, but this time his smile showed malice and pride. All that time you were surrounded by people who wielded a certain power and influence, oblivious to the fact that they could ever use it against you.

"Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung... Maybe you heard about their surnames on the news two years ago? Families specialized in medicine, their knowledge dazzles science and biology. Before allies and now both surnames are enemies competing for the market, but who would say that their children would meet secretly and use their same knowledge to retain a precise treasure." His hand stroked your hair causing you to recoil angrily, with a grimace of disgust and resignation. "Well... Finally Jungkook, son of the best technology creators in the country. Capable of creating anything, millionaires obviously, like everyone. Faithful lovers and devoted to he son, giving him everything he wants. " He stopped for a moment and then brought his hand to your ear taking out one of your earrings, you looked at him confused before he opened it showing a tiny device that lit up. "Even creating a more than wonderful device, a tracker of the smallest size."

You opened your mouth completely petrified, looking at each and every one of them. Most of them had a firm and conceited posture, but your eyes only looked at him.

"Were you in on this?" You ask by moving your body slightly, Yoongi only remains silent, avoiding looking at you at all costs, even if it is out of mercy you demand a simple word. "Speak! Tell me! Tell me!" You scream completely out of control, letting out all your frustration and anger with him, just him. It's all his fault. "Tell me now! To finally be able to completely hate them all... Please tell me, I just want to stop inventing and fooling my head trying to justify why you are standing there doing nothing for me" You sob almost exhausted, " Without helping me, when before you said you love me."

His eyes meet yours a few seconds before Jungkook chimed in, completely certain that you were trying to play your manipulation cards to get rid of them. Funny, they had done the same to catch you, their hyung could sometimes be so... credulous. That it was ironic that she was older than him.

"Good enough talk for today." He demanded, causing you to hide your head again in fear. You were so scared, even with the pain in your cheek and jaw from being forced by Jimin, you would never give up on them.

Your mouth felt dry, you couldn't remember the last time you drank water alone. As if they could read your thoughts, Taehyung appeared with a tray with a glass of water and a purple pill.

"Take that away from me." You scream when he tries to put the pill in your mouth, backing up as far as your bound legs will allow.

He sighs bored, as if he doesn't have the patience to deal with it, "If you want water you'll have to do this."

"What is it?" You ask almost breathless from the lack of water in your body, he smiles before bringing the pill to his face to look at it rolling it on his finger.

"Hm... Vitamins." Respond after hesitating. "Everything you need in one compact little pill. It was an invention by Jimin and me, we were hoping you would be the first to try it."

A few seconds ago you remember hearing about the reputations of both families, they were specialists who probably passed that knowledge on to their children. If they knew what they were doing with them, they would be shocked. Your reasoning tells you no, to throw it away and try to run away but your head and body can't take it anymore, they demand water and a rest.

"I-it's okay." You accept, removing the pill and the glass of water from the tray angrily. You put the pill in first, then the water so hard your mouth hurts from the force.

You return the glass silently, eyeing him suspiciously before sitting back down and walking a few inches away. You wait for everyone to do something, but they stay so still as dolls that it scares you, everything about them and their attitudes was creepy.

I wish you had noticed earlier.

And now you feel it, it was not pain, nor anxiety. I was just calm, the noises seem to decrease and your vision does not blur but you feel so relaxed that you do not seem to be affected by any drugs. You could feel it all, but you didn't care.

It was relaxing but you weren't far this time, you remember the previous scenes. When you ate the food they gave you, it was similar but as if it had been modified so that you can remain docile and obedient, but at the same time you know what they are doing.

Your body falls on the bed, you don't even try to get up. Your brain isn't thinking about that, it just gets distracted by the decorations around it, but it clearly perceives one of them nearby. Namjoon is behind your body lying face down, half is on the bed and your legs are still kneeling on the floor. You feel his kisses so desperate on your neck, his hands touching your breasts and stomach trying to lower himself further, anxious not to wait to fuck you as he always wanted and should have been.

You do not fight when his legs open yours with force and speed, you just stand still, thinking with your head glued to the soft sheets of the bed, deep down you can slightly feel your desire to push him and push him away furiously, you want to do it but not you do. You feel so confused that you sob into the sheets in released frustration.

"I thought I heard from you, that her wouldn't refuse anything with his stupid pill." Jin whispers, disgusted seeing you struggle with yourself in search of reason.

"I don't see her deny it." Jimin retorts, crossing his arms with a small victorious smile.

Yoongi stands aside, not wanting to accept this but likewise, like you, does nothing to avoid it while Namjoon sinks deep inside you causing you to writhe overwhelmed and let out a groan of pain, your mouth opens to complain and probably ask him to stop, but he instantly closes again only releasing more gasps and squeals.

They spend minutes with all eyes on you, taking the cock of her friend who abuses your sore pussy from overstimulation, this time you are crying and begging for mercy to stop. Even in your unconsciousness you continue to feel all the pain and also the pleasure that is now almost non-existent.

"S-stop!" You cry between gasps of exhaustion, your hands had been released by Jungkook seconds ago so that you can hold on properly. However, you only use them to try to ward off Namjoon who is holding you against the bed by slamming his body against yours with obscene noises. The bed squirms like you, colliding with the wall in sync.

"A little more baby... Just a little more... And I'll fill you with my cum, so fucking tight. You like that, hm?" Her breath very close to your cheek makes you react, you squeeze your eyes almost suffering from your next inevitable orgasm. You scream making everyone watch you fascinated by how your face contracts with pleasure and pain, you try to walk away when the moment of ecstasy recedes, but he continues to fuck you bareback hard, selfishly chasing the release of him against you.

You spent hours repeating the same routine, sometimes sometimes even more hours than you can remember or count.. Your body was completely covered with bruises and marks not only made by them manually, you had discovered in the worst way that Hoseok had a great fetish to make small cuts to any animal or person that had skin and that glistening blood came out of those wounds, red as hell and as sweet as ambrosia.

A delicacy, truly a true delicacy blessed by God.

Jin could not stop laughing at your overwhelmed face, sometimes he would sit next to you while your body was fucked uncontrollably, watching your face move on the sheets with the constant and hard movements of his friends.

"Do you enjoy it, you dirty bitch?" You knew he was making fun of it, not only because it denigrated your dignity, but also because you couldn't answer correctly and the only thing that moved was your head up and down from the thrusts. As if you were affirming his disgusting words. "You like it right?" And again. "I bet you will enjoy it every day from now on, do you want to marry us, little bitch? Be ours forever, that we fuck you every damn day like that, that we also fill you up that you would get pregnant, you would have our children , and you would gladly. Do you accept _______?"

You did not want to know where he managed to get your last name, nor your full name and less because he thought that after the effect of whatever they had given you, you would really accept being his damned wife.

But he just stands there, watching Jungkook abuse his new power against you and taunt him.

I just wanted to wait for everyone to leave, so I could hug you, heal you, and ask for forgiveness.

He couldn't save you if he was chained to the basement like they threatened to do. He was afraid of his own friends, who looked at him madly when hours before he thought of withdrawing from the plan, Hoseok as charismatic as he always claimed to be able to cut his neck so easily if I took you away from them.

Now, they were doomeds.

The painting lost its color once more.

[creoterative]

I have Questions, Ericson Kids. A lot.

Info: The title says it all. While playing the fourth season for the billionth time, I questioned the entire existence of this school and its inhabitants. But I’ll try and keep this short because I’m still learning for the last exams.

Warnings: Eh, spoilers and swears

-----

Alright, first question: When exactly did the adults leave the school? 

It is said, that every last one of the adults abandoned the school and the kids, except Mrs. Martin, who was the nurse there. So I guess she was in charge most of the time after the apocalypse started. When exactly did she die? Assuming Marlon is 19 years old when he dies, the apocalypse has been going since... 8-9 years. Never ever has he run this shit since he was 10/11 years old, never in my life would I believe that. So my guess is, that she died when he was AT LEAST 14. And that only goes if the adults left immediately after the first walker showed up. 

-----

Who trained Rosie?

Marlon said that she was the headmaster’s dog before the dead started to rise again. But like I said, the apocalypse broke out 8-9 years prior to the events of season four. At least that’s what I’ve heard and read. That means, Rosie has to be at least 8 years old. Depending on when the adults left... I got a dog myself and I can tell you, a 10 year old kid can’t possibly deal with such a huge dog who’s in puberty. That’s a death sentence. I mean, yeah miracles happen, but, uhm... very unrealistic. Did Mrs. Martin take care of her? And did she teach Marlon her signs and signals for Rosie? Help him gain her trust etc.? Maybe he was clinging to the headmaster because he wanted to get to know his new dog? If Rosie even was that new. Maybe she’s older than we think, but I higly doubt that. At the age of ten years and more, that dog shouldn’t be able to run and walk like that anymore. 

-----

This one would never have occured to me if I hadn’t listened to some cut out answers from Marlon in the basement. But now that I heard at (and am glad that he didn’t say that one line): How do the girls deal with their special time in the month?

It’s not like they can buy pads and tampons in a store anymore, especially since a certain SOMEONE has drawn a safe zone on a map. And don’t forget, they were a lot more when the apocalypse started. If we say that Mrs. Martin was there for about... four years, then she died because of the walkers in the greenhouse. Then she probably would have taken care of it, I dunno, use some bandages or cloth, but most importantly, tell them what the fuck is going on. And tell the boys too! In a discrete way of course and make sure they know to shut up about it, it’s not funny. 

But hell, if Mrs. Martin wasn’t there and after a few years of running the school, everything seemed to get a little bit better, Marlon one day wakes up to a bunch of girls having their period for the first time and he’s like What the Fuck is going on, are they infested, do we have to kill them, CAN we kill them, stop screaming at me, why aren’t any of the boys in pain and bleeding, why did I ever step up as your leader, stop this shit. - poor boy. And Louis wouldn’t be any help, he would just look at Marlon like Man, you are the leader, I’m the gentleman, you handle this xD

-----

How did they all learn how to shoot with a bow and arrow? 

I don’t think any of them really knew how to do that before they attended Ericson, but... was there some form of archer club? Because the bow Marlon uses looks like a professional one, a compound bow, but that’s the only one they use. The others look a lot more self made or less expensive. 

It’s a little weird that Marlon is the only one using the professional bow, considering the fact that it can be stretched better and has a wider range. Yes, he is the leader and all, but for surviving it wouldn’t be that smart to hold other, better bows back from your comrades, just so you can look good. And I’m sure he knows that, he’s the one constantly worrying about the food. 

So what happened? Or is it really his and he just took it with him from home? Very unlikely, I wouldn’t let a kid run around in school with a bow that is twice its size, even now that bow is as big as Marlon’s entire torso.

-----

...These are kids in puberty. And there was ONE pair confirmed, Violet and Minerva. And Aasim having a thing for Ruby, but that’s it. How exactly did these little hormone-driven kids not fall all over each other long ago?

They were a lot more back in the days, that means, they had more options as well. I mean, yes, they are in the middle of the apocalypse, but we see couples, we even see pregnant women throughout the entire game. Maybe Mrs. Martin had THE TALK with them, so there wouldn’t be any... accidents... yeah, you know what I’m saying here. But still, one pair? Hell, Violet managed to find a girlfriend, how on earth did they all reject Louis? I get why Marlon isn’t interested in finding love, he knows that would just cause trouble for them all, he said it himself. But Louis? And even Brody, Brody is a very beautiful girl, from the inside and outside. Why? And don’t come after me here now, I know very well that relationships have to develop and for some people it really takes time. I can’t imagine Violet and Minnie looking at eachother one day and saying ‘Fuck me’ (although... that would have been funny). It has to be worked on, yes. But a bunch of teenagers in a little fortress? Man, if I was there and had to choose between 30 kids, I’d definetely find someone (that sounds so perverted, Jesus Christ - but you know what I mean!)

-----

That’s it for today, guys! If you have any answers for these questions, pls help me, this is just so confusing xD Anyway, I’ll leave some headcanons for Marlon and Louis soon (hopefully) but for today, that’s everything (well, depends on my mood, as always, hehe)

[arvinsescape]

I hope you’re waiting for me.

A/N: I hope you all enjoy, this is a sad one but I hope you all enjoy 💕

Summary: Mob!Tom doesn’t know what he’d do without you and unfortunately he has to find a way to live without you.

Warnings: Death, swearing, just pure heartbreak.

W/C: 2.1K

The event was beautiful, much different to the events you’d attended before, Tom had his arm around your waist as he kissed at your cheek. He was so smitten with you, the wedding ring he’d gotten you was shining in under the fluorescent lights, everyone had commented on how beautiful it was. He loved you with everything he had, you’d been married just short of a month, and this was the first event you’d attended.

You became used to the looks of jealousy thrown your way by this point. Most women wondered how you had done it, how had you gotten the Mob boss so wrapped around your finger that he proposed. Women had tried so hard to gain his attention, but none ever succeeded, he wasn’t interested and by now they’d all gotten the message, he looked at you like you were the only important person in the room.

“I wanna take you into that bathroom and fuck you right now.” Tom groaned into your ear, the white knee length dress you had on was driving him wild. He’d already had it around your waist once today, your legs still slightly shaky from the encounter and you doubted it wouldn’t be the last.

“Calm down.” You hummed as he trailed his hand down your back and squeezed your behind.

“You look so good though.” Tom smiled as he kissed your cheek.

“Mr and Mrs Holland.” You heard a voice say and your stomach dropped. This was one man you hated, he was your typical mob leader, greasy, sexist, everything you hated in a man. “How was the honeymoon, I expect we’ll be expecting a young Holland to join the mix now.” He said and your hand instinctively fell to your stomach. You weren’t pregnant but you were trying.

“It was lovely, thank you.” Tom said, he knew how to keep the peace where you didn’t know what to say.

“Brilliant, well I hope to see you soon.” He said as he walked away, you instantly relaxed.

“I hate him.” You whispered into Tom’s ear, getting on your tiptoes to rest your head on his shoulder as Tom laughed.

“You hate most people in this room.” He teased back. “Makes me wonder how I ever got you to fall in love with me.”

“You have your advantages.” You teased him.

You both watched as a man approached, you didn’t recognize him, and Tom didn’t seem to either.

“To the happy couple.” He said with a smile that set you on edge, you instinctively moved further into Tom’s side. He raised his glass at the two of you and you heard a gun shot resonate through the room, everyone stopped what they were doing. A scream rang out through the room, and you felt as people started to move towards the exit as people burst through the doors around you.

You felt out of place, a pain in your stomach spreading like wildfire. Your hand clutched at it and as you lifted it you saw the blood coating it. It was surreal, how you hadn’t noticed the pain until this point, you hadn’t felt the pain until it ripped through you all of a sudden.

“Tom?” You said weakly but he didn’t hear you as he moved you out of the way, grasping your hand that wasn’t covered in blood and rushing you both through a door and into a corridor.

“Tom, boss- “Harrison joined the two of you and stopped in his tracks. “Y/N/N?” He said quietly as he took in your appearance, Tom turning his attention to his wife, and he felt his heart stop. Your face was pale, blood seeping through your wound. That shot was meant for you and it turned his blood cold, how had he missed it.

“Baby?” Tom said slowly as you looked at him, fear evident in your eyes. Another gunshot rang through the corridor, and you didn’t even have the energy to react, you understood now, you were the target.

“Tom, we need to move.” Harrison spoke as he fired a shot off that hit the guy straight in the head.

Tom picked you up bridal style as you clutched onto your wound, the amount of blood leaving your system made your head feel dizzy as Tom and Harrison moved themselves quickly through the corridors, they were saying things to each other, but you didn’t catch any of it. Harrison had to take charge of this one, Tom wasn’t focused, he was too wrapped up in what was happening to you.

You didn’t look good, and Harrison’s stomach dropped, he knew there was a small chance you’d survive this, the possibility of you seeing tomorrow was not likely. Tom looked lost, mindlessly following his friend through the corridors. Harrison killed god knows how many people, relief flooding his system as he saw the car.

“Baby?” Tom coaxed you back into consciousness. “Hey, I need you to stay with me okay?” He said. “I’m going to get you to a doctor.” He spoke as he removed his jacket. Somehow you’d ended up in the back of his van, you were led across the seats, Tom awkwardly in the footwell. “Princess, you’re going to make it through this okay?” He said as he pressed the jacket to your wound. Your blood covering everything in its path.

“Tom,” you said, and it was so weak that Tom’s heart stopped. He clung onto the tiny amount of hop that his wife was going to be okay. He couldn’t think about losing you, not now, not ever.

“Baby, shh,” he said as he used his free hand to smooth your hair. “Don’t talk, just focus on me and stay with me.” He said, tears streaming down his face, no one had ever seen the man cry, and no one dare comment on it, the people in the car turning their attention elsewhere.

“Tom, I love you.” You said, you knew the wound was fatal now. You knew that this was how you were going to die, you felt so weak that you didn’t really care. You found comfort in having Tom here, he was with you, it’d be okay. “It’s okay.” You whispered as you felt your eyes drift closed.

“Y/N/N, no, no, come on princess, just stay awake, please for me.” He spoke, voice cracking.

“I’m tired.” You mumbled. “I love you.” You said again, you felt like your life was slipping from you, felt your heart beat slow.

“I love you so much princess, so so much.” He said as he put his forehead to yours. “I need you to hold on, we’re almost there and then the doctors going to fix you and we’ll be okay. You can’t die, not you Y/N/N. I can’t lose you.” Tom spoke but it fell on deaf ears, you’d gone.

Tom’s face completely paled as he sat there in shock, your chest no longer rising and falling. He panicked as he shook you.

“No, no, no. Y/N/N, wake up. Come on baby, wake up for me.” He said both hands falling above your chest as he attempted to bring you back.

Harrison couldn’t stop the tears as he pulled up outside the hospital. He hadn’t made it in time, you were gone, that sliver of hope crushed. He wanted to apologise to his friend, wanted to tell him how sorry he was.

“Tom, stop.” Haz said as he grabbed Tom from his awkward position and pulled him out of the car. “Tom, she’s gone.” Haz cried as Tom tried to rip himself from his grasp and get back to you. “Tom!” Harrison shouted, gaining the males attention, he watched as Tom collapsed onto the ground.

“It’s all my fault.” He whispered and Harrison’s heart broke.

“No Tom, it’s not.” Harrison motioned for one of the other men to get someone’s attention, your body needed removing from the back of the vehicle. Haz was glad they had it in with the chief of police, knowing that nothing would come of this. “It’s not your fault.”

“It fucking is. If I wasn’t who I am and I didn’t pursue her, she’d be alive.”

“She loved you Tom. Do you honestly think she didn’t know this would be a possibility? Tom she took the risk because she loved you.”

“And she was killed because of me!”

**

The funeral was hard, Tom had attended but as soon as it was over he’d left. Harrison had taken over the mob for now, Tom was unfit. Harrison found out who it was that had ordered the murder and kept it to himself, he couldn’t watch Tom fall further into the hole he was already in. Tom had taken it upon himself to almost lock himself in his bedroom.

It was two months after the funeral and Tom still hadn’t gotten rid of your stuff, nor had he gotten rid of the photos of the two of you. Harrison was trying to pull his friend from the darkness that consumed him, but nothing was working, he was lost without you. He’d come back a week ago, he was colder, much more than he’d used to be. He became unfair, almost unrealistic in his expectations of the men around him.

“Tom?” Harrison popped his head around his office door. Harrison stopped in his tracks, not prepared for the scene before him. “Mate?”

Tom was crying as he looked at the wedding ring that had sat on your finger, not noticing Harrison’s presence. He placed the ring down as he pulled one of your favourite hoodies from under his desk before stuffing his face into it as he started to cry uncontrollably.

“Tom?” Harrison panicked as he ran to his friend.

“It still smells like her.” He replied weakly, not removing his face and Harrison understood now why he hadn’t thrown your things out. “I want her back. I can’t do this without her.”

“Tom,” Harrison sighed. “She’d want you to move on. She loved you so much and she wouldn’t want you to be like this.”

“How do you know? How do any of us know what she’d want? She’s not here. She’s never coming back, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want anyone else, the thought of another woman. Harrison I can’t. I love her more than you can possibly understand.” He cried into your hoody again.

**

It had taken a few years, but Tom was back to how he had been before he met you, he had a few one night stands here and there, they all had the same thing in common, they all looked like you had but none of them ever stayed, he wouldn’t do that. He always said that no other woman would ever be able to claim that place, it was always yours.

He wore your wedding ring on a chain around his neck, he never parted with it, never removed his own, it sat on his finger like it had since the day you’d put it there. No other woman was ever allowed into his bed, not in your place. He’s learned to deal with it in his own way and Harrison was glad he could have a laugh with his best friend again.

“Where’s Tom?” A man asked as they entered the meeting room, Tom wasn’t in his usual spot, Harrison filled it.

“It’s their anniversary.” Harrison said quietly.

There were 3 days and nights a year where Tom didn’t work; your birthday, your wedding anniversary and the date you died. He made his way to the small plot on the land of his estate, it was yours, you’d always found it peaceful in that corner of the garden and it stayed yours, the only gardener who was allowed to touch it was the one who knew exactly how you liked it.

“Hi baby.” Tom spoke as he laid the flowers on your gravestone. “I hope you’ve had a good day up there. I just know you’re the prettiest angel they have up there, you were down here.” He spoke as he wiped a tear from his cheek.

“I love you. I hope you’re waiting for me. I know I’m waiting for you.”

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

High school anime, rated based on how accurate to high school life they are:

The God of High School: 0/10. Bruh, where the fuck was the high school?

ReLIFE: I'm personally giving this series a 1/10. Speaking as an "adult", I have no desire to repeat my high school years.

My Little Monster: 2/10. Ain't no way a relationship is surviving after one party kisses their partner without consent, as well as casually threatening to rape them. Especially given how petty high school relationships can be.

My Neighbor Seki: 2/10. My high school teachers were somehow able to keep track of everyone in class at all times. Ain't no way Seki is getting away with his antics.

Haikyu!!: Both a 2/10 and a 8/10. It gets a 8/10 mainly because it portrays the life of athletes in high school pretty well. It gets a 2/10 just from me mainly because I've never seen a male volleyball team back when I was in high school. Volleyball was exclusively a female sport for some reason.

High School DxD: 3/10. It gets some points for accurately portraying that high school boys are massive perverts.

Lucky Star: 4/10. Ain't no way high schoolers are having the kind of conversations that occur in this series. This is more like an idealized view of what high schoolers talk about.

My Hero Academia: 5/10. My high school would be getting sued every day if the parents knew their kids were getting hurt on a daily basis, especially if the teachers were in on the fighting.

Kakegurui: 6/10. It loses points for its unrealistic setting but it gains points due to accurately portraying how high schoolers can get addicted to gaming, whether its video games or gambling.

Danganronpa: 7/10. Murder aside, what they got right was how high schoolers can be cruel to each other at times, as well as how hormones can run wild at this stage.

Yu-Gi-Oh: 8/10. Nearly everyone in my fucking class played this game. I even attended a Yu-Gi-Oh charity event hosted by my class leadership. So, accurate.

Kaguya-Sama, Love is War: 10/10. Despite how chaotically ridiculous this show is, this is probably the MOST accurate depiction of high school I've seen in anime. Meme humor, social media is everywhere, teenagers gossiping and talking about love and sex, video games, bullying, teens dealing with depression, and so on. Personally, I think this series should be the new gold standard of high school anime.

[faulty-writes]

Can I request a Pro Hero! Deku x Pro Hero! Reader where reader is an undercover hero who can’t talk about her missions or the injuries from her missions because of confidentiality, and Deku himself doesn’t tell her that he goes to the hospital when he gets severely injured, and then it just spirals into an argument?

There were many heroes that inspired you, especially when you were attending U.A. Spending long hours figuring out your power moves and trying to be the top student. Not to mention the team training exercises you were put through. But one student, in particular, always managed to catch your eye.

The one who grew up to become the Pro Hero: Deku. However, you always tried to stay clear of interacting with other heroes, not because you felt lesser compared to them. But because of the line of work you had chosen, most wouldn’t risk becoming an underground hero.

In general, being a hero was considered dangerous work. The select few who made the choice to do underground or undercover work were admired and often sought out for their skills. But like with most things, there was a downside. One of the strict rules you had to abide by was confidentiality. Your missions, as well as your injuries, were to be kept under lock and key.

But most pro heroes tended to hide their injuries anyway. Either because of fear of ruining their public image or to not worry those that happened to be close to them. But either way, the truth cannot remain hidden forever, and such was the paranoid thought that haunted you every time you saw Izuku.

Since graduating, you two had grown close. Maybe too close, but even when you were off-duty and happened to spot the green-haired man. He’d always seem so keen on inviting you to lunch or some type of hangout, anywhere he could get some peace and quiet with you.

At first, you were hesitant. Too worried or paranoid that Izuku would pry into your personal life, you knew from your schooling days that Izuku tended to be overly interested in other people's lives and their inspiring stories which were usually tied to some injury or major event that changed them and their perspective as a hero.

But Izuku’s company was welcomed and it was nice to vent about a few things regarding your life. But that seemed to change the rare times Izuku spotted an injury on you, whether it was a simple bruise, or bandages surrounding a certain part of your body. While he never questioned it, you always feared he would.

But that never stopped you from continuing to spend time with him, which is why you found yourself at his apartment. He chose to remain living in the same building as his mother which you understood considering his close relationship with her and the fact his father spent long periods of time away from home.

It happened to be a rainy day and the droplets created an eerie echo as they hit the roof of the building. But you remained unphased as you sat on Izuku's couch, the clinking of ice almost drowning out the sound of the rain. You clenched your jaw as you moved your legs, such was not an easy task due to the fact you had gotten injured yet again during a mission.

The lengths some villains would go in order to keep a secret was amusing, especially when it came to underground fighting rings where illegal quirk enhancing drugs were used. But one had to be careful as these quirk enhancers came with a price, if ingested the user lost all rational thinking. Rendering them nothing but a violent, rage-filled opponent.

The villain you had faced was dangerous, their quirk allowing dense crystal-like spikes to grow from any part of their body. They had attempted to render you helpless by piercing your legs repeatedly, the sound of your flesh being torn and the bloody mess that followed was almost too much to think about.

But the fact you had refused to give up even as you laid on the ground, unable to run was somewhat admirable. In the end, if it hadn’t been for Best Jeanist and Hawks. You would have lost your life, you almost felt embarrassed that the previous generation of Pro Heroes had to save you.

It was almost like you were in school again, seeing how far you still had to climb. But luckily, your legs were 'stable' after a few operations and Recovery Girl’s efforts. But you had lost a lot of muscle, which meant you would be out of commission for a while or so was the recommendation. You knew as a hero such was unrealistic.

When you were on your feet, your legs shook and threatened to give out from underneath you. This forced you to sit or play a strategy game of leaning against furniture and walls in a way that wasn’t suspicious or drew attention to the fact you could end up on the floor at any moment.

“I hope I didn't put too much ice…” Izuku said as he took the seat next to you, the ice in question continued to float along the top of your glass. You looked at it a moment before nodding, “It’s fine. Thank you, Midoriya,” your fingers tightened around the glass before you brought it to your lips and took a sip.

The cool liquid flowed down your throat before you placed the glass on top of your thigh. You turned to look at Midoriya who returned your stare with a smile. “I’m glad,” he responded before he went to take a sip of his own drink. But, he paused when a subtle vibration coursed through the floor and shook the furniture.

The ice in your drink bounced, clinking together rapidly before the windows of Izuku’s apartment cracked and shattered. A cry escaped you and before you could properly react, you felt Izuku’s warm embrace. Your head pressed up against his chest and his arms wrapped around you, shielding you from the bits of glass that sprayed all over.

The air in the room grew cold and you could feel raindrops against your skin. The glass you had been previously holding was now shattered on the floor and you would have felt bad for involuntarily breaking it if not for the fact that Izuku leaned back up. His attention turning to the now shattered windows as the rainy wind dampened his hair, making the green strands stick to his forehead with ease.

He then scrambled to get up, leaving you on the couch with a surprised expression. Your fingers curled into the damp cushion you sat on while Izuku looked out one of the windows. His eyes narrowing as he witnessed a dark cloud of smoke through the rain, it looked like it was coming from one of the distant buildings.

His hand slowly folded into a fist and he turned to look at you. Immediately you recognized the expression in his eye which was only confirmed when he walked back over to you. “Come on,” he spoke urgently as he held his hand out and your body stiffened. You looked at that offered hand, watching as a few drops of rain slid off his palm.

Then you slowly glanced back at him, goosebumps beginning to rise across your skin. His hand flexed impatiently, “Uh…” you trailed off, unsure if you could actually get onto your feet properly. But you knew that wasn’t an excuse, you were a hero and you’d push yourself if you needed to.

You swallowed hard before reaching for his hand, his grip was just as urgent as his voice and he pulled you onto your feet. Of course, you weren't prepared for such a thing and a gasp escaped you. Now standing tall, your legs began to course with that familiar numb feeling.

You reached up to brush your bangs out of the way, allowing them to clump together with the rest of your dampened hair. “We have to take care of this situation, are you ready?” he questioned as he released his grip on your hand, flashing a determined smile your way. Your legs began to tremble and you hoped Izuku would continue to focus on your face rather than the fact you could collapse any moment.

Still, you nodded. Izuku returned it before stepping back. Creating enough distance between you two before tightening his fists and bending his arms. You watched that all too familiar quirk of his activate, green lightning-like streaks surrounding him. While interesting, your focus seemed to be elsewhere.

Mainly his shirt and the way the wet fabric clung to his arms, allowing the shape of his biceps to come to light. He turned to you, that smile of his growing before he took off. The backlash of wind ruffled your hair and caused you to bring your arms up in an attempt to shield yourself.

You looked out the shattered window with amazement as Izuku flew through the air. Then your legs finally gave out, making you land roughly on your knees among the broken pieces of glass on the floor and a soft growl escaped you. ‘Come on…’ you thought as you tried to push yourself up once more, reaching out for the coffee table in front of you.

However, the slippery surface made it hard to get a proper grip. ‘The city needs you!’ the words echoed in your head before you began to pull your body up. Legs shaking underneath your weight and your knees were faced inward.

But regardless, you slowly took a step forward. It seemed to take longer than it should have and your body was soaked by the time you reached the far end of the city. More explosions sounded and the ground beneath you shook violently causing you to fall to the cracked pavement which had several metal pipes sticking out of it.

You prayed there were no severed electrical wires laying about, you didn't feel like getting electrocuted. Regardless, you focused your attention away from the pavement when you saw a small shadow. Tilting your head up, you could see Izuku floating through the air. His shirt and pants ripped and a fair amount of dirt covered his person, but it ran down in thick lines thanks to the rain.

You could hear the chatter of civilians and turned your head, your heart sinking at the sight of their worried expressions. ‘What’s going on!?’ ‘Are you a hero!? Why aren’t you saving us!?’ Sometimes you hated how civilians would mock heroes and demand things from them. But still, it was your job to save them and you wouldn’t let them down...if you could help it.

“Please take appropriate action, the heroes will properly handle this situation,” you promised, though as usual you got some eye-rolls and muttered comments expressing doubt in your abilities. You tried your best to ignore them and started for the area you saw Izuku flying through, taking note of the destroyed and crumbled buildings.

Bits of shattered glass was everywhere and metal signs that once stood tall were bent in ways that weren’t entirely possible. You tried to ignore the way the rain seemed to create some odd rhythmic noise against the pieces of metal. But a voice cut through the white noise seconds later.

“Look out!” Izuku’s voice came and you felt the ground underneath you shake before a loud crack echoed. You tilted your head up, watching as part of a building slid out of place and began to hurtle down towards you. Casting a large shadow over the area you stood and you couldn’t move, your legs were too weak in their current state to maneuver the way they needed to.

The fact your body was shaking from the cold and your clothes were sticking to your body didn't help either. “Y/n!” this went unheard by you as you crossed your arms over your head, ready for the impact that could possibly end your life. However, you didn't feel it. Instead, it felt as though the wind were knocked out of you.

Someone’s arms came to wrap around your waist and the world blurred around you. However, the impact from the building hitting the ground sounded, and you were almost worried the noise would make your ears bleed. But the violent series of vibrations that came after was more of a concern.

It seemed the whole city shook, broken glass falling from the skyscrapers up above only to mix with the rain to create a dangerous shower that could cut one to pieces. You cried out when your back hit the ground causing your shirt to get ripped and bloody scrapes to appear on your skin.

You coughed before opening your eyes, a little dumbfounded as you realized what position you were in. Flat against the ground with Izuku above you, his hands placed on each side of you and he was looking directly at you. Droplets of rain fell from his hair and onto your face, and you couldn't help but notice the way those wet strands hung down to frame the sides of his face.

Yet his determined and angry glance distracted you more than anything and you noticed there was a faint amount of blood dripping from his forehead as well, but the rain was doing its best to wash it away creating nothing but bloody wet lines. “Deku…?” you questioned in a soft voice before noticing the state of his arm.

The shredded skin was oozing red which dripped down and soaked into the pavement below. Was that from pulling you out of the way? Did he get hurt as the building was coming down? The guilt made your stomach twist and you tried to reach out for him.

But Izuku’s head quickly turned to look over his shoulder and you had almost forgotten about the villain present until their voice came, ‘How nice, the poor little hero has to save his backup,’ you froze before leaning to the side in an attempt to get a look at the villain.

It seemed they had some type of muscle-enhancing quirk. While you were in slight awe-struck, Izuku stood on his feet. His back facing you so you wouldn't notice how his eyebrows slanted in anger. But you did take note of the way his fists tightened and shook slightly. For a moment, you thought back to how much he had grown as a hero.

He was making his way through the hero ranks at an amazing speed and showed his bravery almost every day. Pushing himself through every challenge, so why were you still on the ground? You needed to stand by the hero that inspired you and with that thought, you pressed your hands against the wet and uneven pavement.

Your feet slipped a few times and your legs struggled to find the strength to push the rest of your body back. You failed to notice Izuku briefly turn his head to look at you, but either way. You still hoped he wouldn't figure out what was wrong or why you were having trouble standing.

Though most heroes would know better than to look away from the villain they are facing off with, you weren’t so slow when it came to such a thing. Izuku was still looking at you and opened his mouth to speak, but you noticed the movement from behind him. The villain reeled their arm back, ready to cause more destruction and harm.

“Deku look out!” you screamed, it was almost ironic how this had turned into a shouting competition. However, your words seemed to do their job and Izuku's eyes widened as he quickly turned his head back. Having barely enough time to react as the villain brought their arm down against the already damaged pavement, which cracked like the glass pieces that were laying around.

Izuku quickly turned and you found yourself being scooped into his arms just before he kicked off the ground, the backlash of which collided with the villain's attack and created a large hole that swallowed the remaining buildings in the area, as well as the few cars that were parked along what was once the street.

Your eyes widened at the display, though the pouring rain made it difficult to see any details as well as the fact you were soaring through the sky with Izuku. Your arms securely wrapped around his neck while you cursed yourself for becoming a target, you were more of a burden on him at this point.

But you knew Izuku didn't care, he would save you over and over again. It was a hero's job, and when he finally landed on top of a building he gently put you down. But once again your legs didn't seem up to the task of holding you, and down you went.

"Ah!" Izuku held his hand out to you but both of you paused when you heard the villain's laugh echo through the rain. You knew that sound would haunt you for the rest of your life, but even so. A sense of anger suddenly washed over you. There was no way you’d let Izuku face this villain on his own.

But Izuku seemed to have already made up his mind, "Stay here," he instructed before he ran towards the railing of the building and jumped over it. Hurling himself towards the villain below. That's when you realized Izuku had placed you a good way's away from the danger, "Why did..." the answer was obvious, he wanted to protect you.

But you weren't meant for the sidelines and you slowly made your way to the edge of the rooftop. Watching as Izuku landed in front of the villain, “Why do you want to do this?!” he demanded, though you were unable to hear him as the rain drowned him out.

However, you found yourself clinging to the railing of the roof when the ground shook yet again. Izuku reeled his fist back and landed a hit on the villain causing him to slam into several buildings that were facing the opposite of you. One hand was covering your mouth as you watched them begin to fall.

Your other hand was still clasping onto the railing and you tried to push down your nerves when you felt those aftershocks grow more violent. Yet again the thought of not allowing Izuku to face this villain alone came to mind, and you struggled to get onto your feet which slipped against the rooftop flooring.

Damn, you should have worn shoes with more traction. However, you managed to get onto your knees and forced yourself to stand. You took a step closer to the edge, watching as the fight between Izuku and the villain continued.

More damage unraveling before your eyes, you knew if you could activate your quirk while the villain was in your range, you might have an advantage. You smiled at the thought and your attention was turned back to Izuku who was once more flying through the air, his muscles tightened and injuries visible.

“Deku!” you shouted, effectively catching his attention as he glanced down at you from above. You quickly wiped your face, a little annoyed at the rain at this point. “Bring him over here!” you screamed, “I can use my quirk on him!” Izuku while unsure of your plan, seemed to understand and nodded before landing against one of the broken buildings.

His legs bending before he kicked off of it at record speed. You lowered your eyebrows, a smirk coming to your face as you made your way to the center of the roof. Carefully balancing yourself on your shaky legs. One was placed behind you and the other, in front and bent at the knee.

You continued to feel those vibrations course through your bones and the loud echo of pieces of building crashing to the ground, the cries from both Izuku and the villain mixing into one. Izuku was bringing him to you, that much you could count on. Despite the fact, your quirk wasn't the most flashy.

But if used correctly, it could have a powerful effect on the world around your body. Similar to Nemuri Kayama, your body expelled a certain type of gas that affected your opponent's nervous system and rendered them unable to move. The vibrations continued to course through the building you stood on.

But you buckled your legs refusing to allow yourself to fall as you finally saw the villain coming into view. His bulky arms crossed as he fell through the air, Izuku following. Falling from above with his fist reeled back. You knew what he was doing, he was delivering the villain to you using one of his smash moves.

As his fist collided with those crossed arms, there was a massive backlash and a powerful gust of wind came. You knew the force building between the two was bound to send them both flying but you put your trust in Izuku, he'd do what you asked. With that thought, you brought your hands together.

Focusing on releasing your quirk, the thin dark-colored gas began floating around you forcing you to hold your breath. Like many quirks, yours had a drawback. In your case, your quirk could in turn have a negative effect on you. But over the years you had trained yourself to restrict your breathing long enough for you to get an advantage.

A loud sound rang through the air, violently shaking the city and almost bringing you back to your knees. This was followed by a large shadow casting over you, "Hm?" tilting your head, you watched as the villain descended from the sky and towards you. 'This will be tricky,' you thought as you took a few steps back.

Your movements coming to a halt when you hit the railing, which you were partly grateful for as you didn't want to plummet to the ground below. Your quirk continued to build, casting a cloud around you. This combined with the rain made it difficult to see when the villain came crashing through the roof.

But, the violent shake made your feet slip from underneath you and for a moment you almost opened your mouth. But you forced yourself to keep it closed by sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. You had no idea where Izuku was, but you slowly crawled over to the large hole and glanced down into the darkened building.

The only source of light seemed to be the sparking wires that were left behind as a result of the villain crashing through several floors. But you heard a faint groan which meant he was still alive and possibly unable to move due to the small trauma his body had just gone through.

Still, you smiled. ‘I’ve got you’ the words echo in your head before you stretched your arm out. Channeling your quirk into the building, allowing it to fill the open space quickly. As long as the villain inhaled it somehow, he would be rendered useless and no longer a threat. However, a piece of the roof broke underneath your hand and you found yourself falling forward.

"Ah!" you finally opened your mouth, a dull pain coursing through your bottom lip as you tried to regain your balance, your free hand swaying through the air trying to grab anything while your other was digging into the floor of the roof. In your frantic attempt to regain your balance, you ended up breathing in the gas from your quirk.

You managed to push your free hand against one of the metal beams that was sticking out and used what remained of your strength to push your body back. You fell onto your side and reached up to wrap one hand around your throat. Your eyes widened, though your quirk was no longer in use.

The gas around you continued to cloud your vision and you knew it was too late, you could feel your quirk's effect. Your body refusing to move from its position no matter how much you forced it to try. A soft growl escaped you as you laid next to the hole in the roof, praying that the same thing was happening to the villain as you were rather helpless at the moment.

However, from the corner of your eye. You noticed a figure land on the roof, but you couldn't make out their features. You prayed it was Izuku and not some accomplice of the villain. A silence filled the air before you spoke up, “Izuku?” you questioned as you heard the villain from down below give another groan.

Obviously, succumb to your quirk and realizing they couldn’t move. Yet, your attention or at least what you could give of it remained on the person behind you. “Y/n,” the silhouette spoke, and you immediately recognized the voice belonging to Izuku just as you thought.

“Thank you,” he said before kicking off the roof, leaving you bewildered and confused. “Izuku…?” you questioned again, wanting to hold your hand out but your quirk preventing you from doing so. The muscles in your body refusing to move, ‘He left me here like this?’ you questioned just as you heard sirens in the distance.

“Are you sure this as well as your actions are justified?” Tenya’s question cut through the air as he crossed his arms and looked at Izuku who remained lying in his hospital bed. Several bandage wraps covered his arms, legs, and feet. He narrowed his eyes on Tenya who, in turn, kept his stern expression.

“I understand withholding truth in fear of harming someone else, but Y/n is your friend are they not? I cannot agree with leaving them alone after they subdued the villain,” Tenya stated, his fingers tightening around his forearms. The tone of his voice was just as stern as the expression he wore and he opened his mouth to speak again when the familiar sound of a curtain being pulled back broke through the room.

He immediately glanced over his shoulder and Izuku curiously leaned to the side to see who it was. “Midoriya, Iida,” came Shouto’s voice as he stood there holding an oversized brown bag. “Todoroki-kun,” Izuku muttered as Tenya raised his hand and began chopping it through the air.

“It is wonderful to see you Todoroki, are you here to pay Midoriya a visit as well?” he questioned and Shouto looked at him with a questionable glance before turning to Izuku. “I brought the clothes you requested,” he said as he walked over and handed the green-haired boy the bag. “Thank you, Todoroki-kun,” came his response as he curiously glanced inside.

“You’re injured,” Shouto stated seconds after and Tenya let out a sigh. “The state of his injuries are a result of his rather reckless behavior, you are very lucky Y/n wasn’t seriously injured themself after you left!” he scolded yet again, his teeth clenched and hand continuing to move through the air as he walked over to stand by Shouto’s side. Shouto glanced at him, silently processing the information before he looked at Izuku.

“You left Y/n, where?” Izuku had only texted him to bring an extra set of clothes to the hospital. Beyond that, Shouto was left in the dark. Izuku took a deep breath and placed the bag aside, “I was sure what happened would be on the news,” he replied, his voice soft as he turned his head to look at Shouto who merely looked at the ceiling.

After a moment, he spoke, “I heard what happened downtown, a villain did some damage and two heroes took care of it. One of them was Y/n and the other had disappeared by the time they got there. That was you,” he stated as he looked back at Izuku.

“May I inquire as to why you don’t simply tell Y/n of the injuries you have suffered?” Tenya questioned and Shouto shrugged. “You got injured a lot at Yuuei,” he pointed out and Izuku frowned, he didn’t exactly enjoy recalling those memories.

“I...don’t want Y/n to worry, they are an underground hero after all,” he glanced to the side, his hands closing into fists. “I don’t...want them to worry about me, they have so much to take care of as is,” he said as he turned to look at Shouto and Tenya, but if only he knew the truth. While you had plenty to worry about, the hero commission always expected more from you.

In their eyes, an injury holding you back wasn’t a valid excuse and that’s why you found yourself slumped in a chair, your chest still giving a dull ache from the drawback of your quirk. ‘A hero who cannot stand on their feet is not what this society needs,’ a voice speaks and you knew there was no point in arguing. What they stated was the truth.

‘Do not make the mistake of revealing your injuries again, we chose you to exceed our expectations.’ you glanced down, your hands tightening in your lap. “Yes…” you replied, though you couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt. To keep secrets was one thing but to hide your injuries from those you cared about?

You weren’t sure if you could do it, but your hero work was more important and with the weight of the world already on your shoulders. You knew you had to be strong. This became the dance between you and Izuku, fate bringing you together yet each one of you had to hide your scars.

But it seemed things got heated each and every time Izuku and yourself saw each other. You were quickly catching onto the fact he would disappear after the fight was over, more than likely because he was injured. In turn, he seemed to notice your lack of strength and hesitation in moving as you should.

Eventually, you decided to finally find out what Izuku was up to, why you always caught glimpses of bandage wrappings somewhere on his body, or the fact he’d sleep for hours on end whenever he had off. Was his body exhausted because he pushed himself too far or was it trying to heal any injuries?

You seemed to get your chance the day you heard that the hero 'Deku' was severely injured on a recent mission, but was expected to make a full recovery. Which normally would make anyone happy to hear, considering Deku was a well-loved hero. Almost as popular as his teacher, All Might.

But it only caused anger to surge through you, Izuku hadn't told you he was going on a mission. "Where is..." you glanced around, looking for your cell phone from your position on the couch. Eventually finding it between the cushions, you unlocked it to glance at your text messages. Nothing.

Your jaw clenched, you knew you had your reasons for keeping your injuries secret. You were an underground hero, someone who laid low on the charts for your own safety. But Izuku was a public hero. Adored and cherished. Why didn't he tell you that he was hurt? Had your assumptions been correct?

Had he been hurt in the past without your knowledge? You decided to find out yourself. “I do not believe it’s my place to say! Midoriya’s medical records and otherwise private injuries are strictly prohibited from other's knowledge and are only to be revealed upon Midoriya’s approval,” sometimes talking to Tenya was a headache, but speaking to Shouto was no better.

“I don’t know Midoriya’s physical state of being, why. Is something the matter?” did neither of them watch the news or did they simply not care when Izuku got injured? You thought about visiting the hospital, but you were worried that Izuku wouldn't allow guests to see him.

Then again, you couldn't just give up without trying. Despite your paranoid thoughts believing that Izuku was holding more than one secret from you. The information you wanted wouldn't reveal itself unless you went to see him and spoke face to face. Even if there was a possibility it could cause an argument between you.

Granted, you know Izuku often brought the more logical side to an argument, taking his feelings into account but not fully dependent on them while you were more emotional. Wanting to speak from your heart rather than your brain is part of the reason you found yourself walking into his hospital room.

You winced as you saw him lying there, wrappings all over his upper body and a cast around his left wrist. He seemed to have heard you and when he picked his head up, his eyes went wide. Or at least the one, there were several bruises across his face and his right eye was swollen.

You wouldn't be surprised if he had a few teeth missing as well. "Oh," he said with an awkward chuckle, "Y/n, how are you?" you closed the door behind you and slowly walked over to his bedside, "I have something...to ask," you began and Izuku seemed confused by your words.

"What is it?" he replied as you pulled over a chair and took a seat. A deep breath sounded as you tried to calm the butterflies in your stomach. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself everything would be alright. You knew the possibility of your question starting an argument was evident.

Your hands were folded in your lap and silence filled the air apart from the gentle beeping from Izuku's heart monitor. “It's...important,” you turned your head, “Sort of…” you muttered under your breath before turning back to look at Izuku who seemed to squirm in his bed, almost like he was trying to get comfortable.

Then he turned to look at you, “Is this about what happened a few weeks ago?” he questioned before he glanced away, a present frown on his lips and you clenched your jaw. You hadn’t expected Izuku to do what he did and while it had bothered you, it wasn’t what you wanted to talk about.

So you shook your head, “It’s...well that incident, I didn’t appreciate how you left me. That’s not like you,” Izuku never ran away from a challenge, or at least you believed. You watched as his body tensed up, clearly uncomfortable with the fact that you had brought up what he had done.

His throat tightened and he knew that an apology wouldn’t fix anything and neither would pointing out things that could possibly work in his defense. Instead, he took a deep breath. “You were having trouble standing that day,” he said, his voice somewhat flat before he averted his gaze once more, staring at the white sheet that covered his legs.

However, you were surprised by his words. Your eyes widened and a small tremble coursed through your body. “What?” you replied, almost wanting to play dumb. “I noticed it,” he said, his voice sounding stern as he turned back to look at you. Even in a hospital gown, Izuku could look intimidating when he wanted to.

His eyes holding a hint of anger that honestly surprised you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt that day? I wouldn’t have forced you to-” you held your hands up, “Whoa,” you said, trying to hold back the desire to tell Izuku it wasn’t any of his business what happened to you.

“I never asked for anyone’s hand to hold,” you said, a small hiss coming from your words before you reached over and grabbed his injured wrist. Forcing his arm up as your nails dug into his cast. “I should be asking why I see bandage wraps on your body, you try to hide them.” you frowned and released his arm.

“Why are you hiding things from me?” you questioned, clearly hurt considering you thought Izuku trusted you. You watched as he clenched his jaw and a gasp escaped you when he jerked his arm back though you no longer had a grip on it. Then a soft growl came which yet again surprised you.

But not as much as when he began to move, "Izuku!" you scolded or at least tried to as he forced his body to turn so his legs were now draped over the side of the hospital bed and you noticed that his legs had deep cuts in them. The skin slightly inflamed but otherwise healing fine.

You then noticed how his hands were clenched, flexing ever so slightly, and for a moment you were afraid he’d lose control and try to stand up or run. “I’ve been documenting you,” he said and to most outsiders, this would sound creepy. But since you met Izuku, he had always scribbled things down in his notebook.

Documenting how other’s used their quirks as well as any super moves they had and their fighting style. But, you felt like you needed to ask anyway. “Documenting me?” you rose your seat, taking a few steps away from Izuku. “Your power and movements slow when you’re injured,” you almost felt like rolling your eyes.

Was Izuku just pointing out the obvious? You placed your hands on your hips. “Yeah, and?” you urged him to continue but ended up taking another step back when he looked at you and slowly began to slide off the bed. Luckily the wires that attached him to the heart monitor made him stop short.

“You’ve slowed down three times within the last two months,” he stated before reaching into his hospital gown and pulling off the adhesive pads that kept him attached to the monitor. You shivered as the sound of the flatline came and you half expected the nurses to come rushing into the room.

But instead, Izuku continued to walk forward, in turn, making you walk back until you hit the wall. Another gasp came when you turned and realized that you may have trapped yourself. You clenched your jaw, silently cursing before you turned back to notice Izuku just inches from you.

It was a strange feeling, having someone like Izuku tower over you. With your hands flat against the wall, you looked up at him. The fierce expression in your eye indicated you weren’t going to back down. “Are you saying I’m keeping secrets from you?” the question left your lips with another hiss, and you hoped that Izuku got the message you didn’t want to continue playing this game.

“Like you are from me,” you added, that certain bold tone to your voice seemed to strike a nerve in Izuku and a soft growl rumbled in his throat. “I’m not-” he insisted before you shoved your finger in his face, “You are!” you exclaimed before your hands reached out to push against his chest.

He looked shocked at the contact and stepped away. You knew you shouldn't be abusing an injured person. But seconds later, you heard his teeth scraping together. A burning sensation began to grow in his stomach, more than likely dying to scream out everything he felt. “T-To protect you-” a snarl left your lips and you pushed off the wall, daring to invade his space once more.

“Protect me from what?!” you demanded as you stomped your foot against the floor. “You keep things from me and wonder why I have to keep things hidden from you in return!?” you questioned as you pointed your finger at him yet again before crossing your arms over your chest, this was escalating with every minute that passed.

But, it was clear the two of you needed to set things straight. Izuku's eyebrows were furrowed together now and he reached up to thread his fingers through his hair. “I...I don’t try to hide anything from you,” he stated. “You’re just so busy with your undercover work and then you get hurt and act like everything is alright!” much like you, Izuku’s foot came down to smack against the floor.

A loud thud echoing as a result and you stumbled back, looking at him with a shocked expression. Didn't that hurt with his injuries? Granted, you knew more than anyone it took a lot for Izuku to get angry and the fact that his anger was directed at you instead of a villain was new territory.

But you couldn’t back down. “That’s not okay!” he exclaimed before clenching his jaw and his gaze went to the floor, recalling Tenya's words from the last time he was in the hospital. Maybe he was correct, his actions weren’t justified but neither was yours. He reached over, violently taking hold of your hands and a soft hiss sounded from you when he squeezed them.

“Izuku!” you exclaimed as you took a step back and tried to pull away. But of course, this did very little. “I care about you...and you care about everyone else but yourself!” he continued and you paused in your movements looking at him with wide eyes before another growl escaped.

“So do you! The same thing you did at Yuuei, you’re doing now! You hurt yourself and you think covering it up is going to solve it! And you never tell anyone!” you snapped before leaning back when Izuku suddenly invaded your space. You could feel the warmth of his breath and take in his bruised face.

“Those injuries are from your missions aren’t they?” your jaw was hanging open and you cursed yourself for the way your cheeks slowly rose in temperature. You glanced away, your anger slowly fading into a sense of sadness. “I can’t tell you,” the hero commission wasn’t forgiving, “Why?” Izuku questioned as he once again squeezed your hands.

“My missions are...confidential. Including what happens to the people that participate in them," a pained expression was on your face and it didn’t go unnoticed by Izuku. He opened his mouth to speak, but you interrupted him.

“Do you try to handle those injuries on your own? Is that why you don’t tell me!?” your voice echoed through the room and Izuku took a deep breath before releasing your hands. You were almost hurt when he took a step back, but you were quick to follow. Taking a step forward with your hands now clenched by your sides.

“Or do you go to the hospital and not tell me? I tried speaking to Todoroki and Iida, but they didn’t tell me anything. Was that a clue?” a frustrated sigh left Izuku before he turned his back to you, pressing his hand to his forehead. He was debating about telling you the truth, he knew this argument would continue regardless and despite the fact, you couldn’t tell him anything.

Maybe he was in the wrong, a hero doesn’t lie or withhold the truth. They also understood that sometimes missions were kept secret in order to keep society in running order. “I go to the hospital so I don’t make you worry,” he stated as he slowly turned to look at you from over his shoulder and your anger yet again faded when you noticed the smile on his face.

“You...don’t want to make me worry?” you repeated and tried to ignore the small amount of guilt that washed over you as you stood there. Silence now filling the air as you glanced down, slapping your hands against your thighs. “Why would you think that’s right?” you questioned, your voice soft but still held a certain tone to it.

“Because I care about you,” he repeated, that’s the answer that kept coming back. Because he cared because he didn’t want you to worry. Part of you understood that, considering Izuku seemed to be the center of attention when he was attending U.A. But this was different. You took another step forward, raising your hand.

“You care about me,” you said as you pointed to him, “and you don’t want me to worry about you,” Izuku nodded and you slapped your thighs once again. “Do you think that’s going to stop me from doing it anyway?” you questioned as you approached him and poked his chest.

He reached up to grab your hand and pressed it down, you could faintly feel his heartbeat. “You keep your injuries secret because you have to, but same as you. I don’t think I...I’ll stop caring about you,” your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt and you glanced away.

“So…” you began, “how are we going to solve this?” you questioned, it was clear you two wanted to hide your injuries for one reason or another. “Be honest?” Izuku suggested, “I can’t be honest if I’m under strict orders,” you replied and another moment of silence filled the air before Izuku stepped forward and placed his hand on your hip.

You welcomed the contact, “Will you tell me when you’re hurt?” you glanced down, that was a hard question to answer. He was asking if you were willing to defy the rules that bound you, many heroes bent the rules for one reason or another.

But usually, it was in the context of being able to save someone else or others. Not between close friends who decided it was a good idea to try and hide their pain from each other. You swallowed, opening your mouth to answer. “Can you keep it a secret?” you hoped you wouldn’t regret asking him that question, but you watched as a smile came to his face.

“Yeah, I can if...if it’s you,” he replied, allowing his thumb to stroke across your knuckles, oh right. He was still holding your hand. “I’ll tell you when I need extra help because of an injury, if you tell me when you’re going to the hospital for yours,” that sounded like a fair deal, despite the fact that Izuku looked surprised for a moment.

Then he dropped your hand and a moment later, you felt both of his arms came up to wrap around you. Though you had hugged Izuku before, this felt a tad different. “Deal,” he said, and a small sense of relief filled you as you returned his hug. At least this was one less secret you had to keep.

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 38

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Word Count: 4.7k

; Warnings: Slight mentions of body insecurity/self-hatred

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Only two more chapters after this one! I apologise if this isn’t good or anything...I wrote it all today as I wanted to make sure I keep hitting one a week for you! This should mean that Flower should officially end in two weeks! 😢 it’s sad to think about but I hope you’ve all enjoyed the journey with me too! Also...once you’ve read the chapter then you might want to look at this link....it’s an important link

; Flower Masterpost

-

The dress shop you’d chosen for today was exactly how you’d imagine a wedding dress shop to look inside. The elegant interior design gave everything an expensive appearance; creams and golds and muted greens tastefully blended throughout the furniture and the walls. While you knew that wedding dresses weren’t cheap anyway, the whole atmosphere of the shop made it all appear so much more costly.

You had no real idea of how you were meant to find a wedding dress, and your first suggestion of just ordering one offline had almost given Chungha and Soyeon a heart attack. Even Hoseok had looked at you a little funny when you’d mentioned it, making you realise quickly that you’d made a bad decision.

Just ordering one from the internet wasn’t a good choice because you likely wouldn’t get the dress you imagined. Plus, Chungha had pointed out that you had no idea whether you’d even like the dress in person or whether it would look good on you.

That had been all you needed to realise that going to a store would be the best option. You were just a little nervous about it, worrying that they might not even have wedding dresses that would fit you or something. Or that you’d look too fat in front of everyone or you’d rip a dress accidentally.

Despite the reassurance your best friends had given you, you were still convinced that you weren’t going to find a dress you liked. Maybe a dress that didn’t look half-bad as long as you didn’t look in a mirror or any photographs in the future. You may have come a long way in terms of self-acceptance, but you still had your moments of doubt and self-hatred.

Formal events were most definitely one of them. The knowledge that your wedding was supposed to be the one time that you would look perfect and be the centre of attention was horrifying for two reasons. One, you were terrified that you’d just end up highlighting the fat on your stomach or your arms and two, you still hated being the centre of attention.

Already you’d been discussing with your therapist about this, pointing out that you were dreading your wedding day instead of being excited. Hoseok was understanding of it as well and was trying to help you overcome the issues and instead get you hyped up for it, but the knowledge that everyone would be focused on you was nauseating.

How did people enjoy it?

Still, you’d searched around for dress shops that looked to be friendly and held the kind of styles that you’d be most interested in before finding the best looking one. You knew there was every chance you might not find a dress you liked here so you also had a list of backup stores to visit at a later date.

For today though, you had your mom, Hoseok’s mom and your best friends here with you. All the people who would give you the right advice about what dress to pick. You’d told them all to be honest as the last thing you wanted was for them to try and cheer you up by lying.

At the moment, you were sitting on one of the couches that were set around the small room as you waited for the assistant to come back. The store had three rooms that were used for bridal parties to try on dresses and pick their favourites, away from anyone else who might happen to wander by. You’d like the privacy it offered which had been another factor in choosing them.

Before attending, you’d specified the types of dresses that you’d prefer to try on and the colour schemes. Upon arrival, she’d looked over your body with a critical eye that had made you feel uncomfortable before disappearing out of the door once more. As she had a lot of experience in helping brides find the perfect dress, she was now weeding out the dresses that she knew for a fact wouldn’t suit you.

Maybe someone else wouldn’t like that, but you appreciated the extra effort. Plus, you knew that you could always ask to see them if you didn’t find any from the dresses that had been specifically picked out for you to try today. You figured that you’d let her get on with it though. She had way more experience than you did in this area.

You were nervous though, your leg bouncing quickly while your fingers were tapping at your jean-clad thigh. Everyone else just seemed to be excited but the large mirror on one end of the room filled you with dread. What if you looked fat and ugly in every dress? You wanted to look perfect but you weren’t unrealistic. There was only so much to do with an average base, after all.

Unsurprisingly, your mom notices your quiet and shy demeanour. Not that you were naturally outgoing anyway, but mom’s notice these things. 

Reaching over from where she’s sat next to you, her hand firmly takes your own and presses it against your leg, stopping it from jerking. Glancing over to her, she gives you a soft smile before running her fingers along your cheek in a gentle movement.

“What’s wrong? Worried?” Nodding self-consciously, you try to avoid her gaze as you feel heat spread through your body. Even your fingers tingle with embarrassment, not wanting to cause a scene in front of everyone.

“Aren’t I supposed to be worried?” 

“No, you’re supposed to be excited. But don’t think about what you’re supposed to be. Just enjoy the moment and have fun dressing up!” She encourages you, giving you a bright smile while squeezing your hand. It attracts Soyeon’s attention from your other side, causing her to stop chatting with Chungha and Hoseok’s mom on the opposite couch.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Now it’s her turn to try and comfort you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder before hugging you tightly. It causes you to smile softly before looking at her, shrugging underneath her embrace.

“Nothing. I’m just...you know me. If there’s one thing I can stress over then I will.” You can almost hear the audible sigh in the room. There’s no doubt that it’s not meant maliciously, but you know that everyone was probably hoping that you’d be able to enjoy today and get excited. Instead, you’ve just made it clear that they have damage control to do.

“What are you stressing over? Not finding the right dress today? The wedding itself? The cost?” The questions are peppered at you from your mom and each one is almost right. As excited as you were to get married to Hoseok, you’d never been one of those girls who fantasize about a wedding. As such, you’d never particularly cared to pay attention to what weddings require.

What Hoseok and you had discovered over the last few months was that weddings required a lot of money and a lot of different people involved. The florist, the venue, the interior design of the room, invite makers, catering, suit makers, wedding dressmakers and so much more. It was a headache to think about and you’d tried to get everything sorted as quickly as you could and for something that wasn’t going to bankrupt you both.

Despite that, you were still looking forward to finally getting to marry Hoseok. It was just the whole process getting there that was causing you anxiety. You wanted to look your best for him. Blow his socks off and all that jazz.

“Yes and no. It’s stupid,” Your voice lowers, almost to a whine. “You’ll think I’m being stupid.”

“Hey...no. No, we won’t. You know we won’t, we never have.” That comes from Chungha and you can see that she’d like to be part of the ‘physically comforting’ crew. But there’s not enough space for her, so she’s relegated to just talking to you from over the glass coffee table between both couches. There’s a fresh bouquet in a pretty vase on the tabletop alongside copies of wedding magazines scattered along the surface.

A quick, unsure glance takes in Hoseok’s mom and you feel even more anxious as you wonder whether she’s judging you. Is she unhappy at what she sees? Uncertain whether or not she wants her son to marry you after getting to witness firsthand your anxiety and fears? You know that she knows about that stuff. Hoseok had told her over the years with your permission, but it was another thing entirely to see it in person.

There’s no judgement in her eyes though and it settles you a little. Instead, there’s concern, a frown on her forehead as she leans forward and watches you closely.

Swallowing, you sigh before finally deciding to just be honest with them. You needed their support right now and you wanted to be excited about picking a dress. This was going to be the dress that you’d remember forever. The one that you hoped would make Hoseok cry when he saw you.

“I just am worried. That...you know...I won’t look good. In my dress. Or any dress. Or that I’ll look fat. Like it’ll highlight my fat bits or something. I know he’s going to look gorgeous because he’s always beautiful and a suit is just going to make him stunning. So I’m afraid that I won’t look good next to him.” The little ball of anxiety in your stomach is growing bigger as you speak, paralysing your chest and making it a little harder to breathe as you imagine all the ways a dress could highlight your bad points.

Your mom can tell, purely, by the way your movements beneath her hand start to get a little more forceful as you try to fidget. She presses down a little harder, forcing you to stop and look at her. There’s so much love in her eyes, but you also see the concern and upset.

“You’re going to look beautiful, sweetheart. You know why? Because you’re already beautiful! Everyone will be in awe of you, thinking you’re the prettiest girl in the room on the day and that’ll be because you will be. Because you are.” She finishes, squeezing your hand while a firm smile is pressed onto her face.

“She’s right,” Hoseok’s mom interrupts, causing you to look over and see that she has her supportive smile. “You’re going to look amazing. And as someone who knows my son pretty well, I have every confidence that he’s going to cry like a baby when he sees you. Hoseok thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. You in a wedding dress is just going to be the cherry on top.”

That makes tears fill your eyes as your breath catches. Pulling your hand away from your mom’s grasp, you wipe at them daintily before sniffing. You’d carefully applied makeup this morning in a possible replica of what you might want your wedding makeup to look like. Smoky eyes and a neutral lip with a subtle natural look to your face. The actual makeup would be more in-depth but you figured this would be enough to get an idea with the dress included.

Before you can say anything in response to her, the door opens up again and a moveable clothing rail is rolled inside. It’s loaded with beautiful dresses, all carefully wrapped up in plastic or paper to keep them pristine for their potential bride to try on. The sight of them makes your stomach knot up in both anticipation and fear.

Your assistant, Fatima, closes the door behind her before giving you that brilliant white smile, full of customer service as she gestures to the dresses.

“Okay, so I’ve kept almost all the ballgown style dresses. I know you said that was your ideal silhouette and I’ve picked out all the ones in ivory for you. There’s only one or two that are shoulderless. I know you said you weren’t fond of that but there are some really pretty ones that I think would work with your body. Minimal lace as well though there’s one or two with some nice designs on them.” Standing, you head over to the rail and gently finger through the dresses with wide eyes.

There were so many of them.

As if she could hear your thoughts, Fatima speaks again. “You don’t have to try them all on if you don’t want to. If you find the dress then just let me know! Don’t force yourself if you’ve fallen in love with one, okay?” 

Nodding slowly, you look over at everyone else with raised brows. Understanding the silent question, almost everyone laughs and gestures to the dresses with excitement.

“Oh my god! Get trying!” Feeling shy, you carefully take the first dress off the hook before disappearing into the en-suite changing room. Taking your clothes off and carefully folding them onto the little seat in the room, you let Fatima in once more to help you slip the dress on. She hurries around you, adjusting bits of the dress and smoothing out areas before bringing you back out into the main room.

This one is pretty plain and simple with a ballgown style that reaches down to the floor in gentle swathes of soft, ivory fabric. The bodice consists of what seem to be two pieces of the same fabric, carefully designed so the right side slips underneath the left side in a criss-cross over your chest. It gives you a classic neckline that only gives the slightest hint of cleavage and helps to enhance your breasts while the straps rest on the very edges of your shoulders.

You love the style and overall design of it, appreciating that the shoulder straps are thick and the sweeping bodice manages to highlight the good parts of your body. For a moment, you wonder if you’d managed to find the dress on your first try, but turning around and examining it from all angles you soon realise that you haven’t quite got it yet.

Turning to the others, they all tilt their heads in various directions and make contemplative noises. Slowly, you spin around for them to get a good idea of the whole dress before you look at yourself once more in the mirror. Running your fingers down the luxurious cavenza, you acknowledge that it’s a beautiful dress.

But it’s not yours.

“I don’t think this is the one,” You say. “I think it’s too simple?”

Raising a brow, you look at the girls to get their opinion. They hum for another moment before nodding agreement with you.

“It looks beautiful but you’re right. It’s not quite...right. A little too boring. You look amazing though.” Smiling shyly, you turn to look at the mirror once more with a little hesitation.

You’d been so worried that a dress might just make all of your more unsightly bits even more obvious than normal such as the belly you could never seem to get rid of or your thick hips and butt. Thankfully though, the silhouette style you’d decided to try seemed to be doing a great job of disguising all those bits.

The only thing that you weren’t quite happy about was your upper arms, the fat there a little too much for your liking. Frowning, you take a deep breath and try to ignore it before looking at Fatima.

“Not this one. Can I try the next?” She nods eagerly before gesturing for you to re-enter the dressing room.

The next hour carries on like that with you trying on dress after dress and finding a reason to dislike every single one. It begins to get a little disheartening and you worry if you’re not going to be able to find the right dress. What if it didn’t exist or something? Wasn’t there supposed to be some magical moment when you’d put on a dress and it’d just feel right?

Like a sign from the heavens that you’d found the One?

Shaking your head at the mirror in exasperation, you turn back into the dressing room and begin to peel off the dress you’d been trying. This one had been an instant dislike with the train being far too long and the bodice making your body look particularly frumpy. You were more than happy to get out of it.

As Fatima helps you, undoing the laces at the back and making sure the dress comes off without any tearing, you give her an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. I hope I’m not wasting your time.”

She laughs at that, shaking her head as she carefully places the dress back into its protective wrap and hangs it up. Taking the next dress off the rail, she pulls it out of its wrap and turns to you with the same happy expression on her face.

“It’s okay, honestly! It’s what I get paid to do. Besides, it’s all a process. You wouldn’t believe how many brides have to go through multiple appointments before we can find the right one for them. Don’t stress yourself if it’s taking a bit longer than you might have hoped for. It just means that the right one for you is still out there! And trust me, you’re a lovely bride compared to some I’ve dealt with.” Fatima says, smirking before gesturing for you to spin around.

Wincing slightly, you wonder how many bridezillas she’s had to put up with over the years. You’d think it was a sexist term but you’d certainly read enough Reddit to know that it was, unfortunately, true for a sadly large number of brides out there. Hopefully, you wouldn’t even remotely be considered one.

“Not many left to go through now.” Fatima sing-song’s, carefully zipping up the pearl buttons on the back of the dress. Inhaling, you hold the top to your chest to help her along before watching as she continues her routine of making sure any unfortunate creases disappear.

Lifting the skirt slightly, you follow her back out into the room and stand in front of the mirror. It’s not one mirror, but more like a mini-wall of mirrors. There’s five, with one big one in front of you, two slightly smaller to either side and at an angle, while another two are angled even further in. It helps to give you a good look at everything from as many angles as possible while the bright lighting illuminates all the good points of a dress.

Tilting your head, you examine it closely before turning from side to side to try and look over all the angles. Humming lightly, you spin and watch as the skirt flares out dramatically. It had a slightly longer trail than some of the dresses you’d tried but it’s not so long that you’d need someone to carry it or anything.

“What is this one made of?” You ask, letting your fingers trail over the delicate design that makes up the bodice of the dress and spreads down onto the skirt. It feels soft and you feel pretty wearing it, admiring the leaf design and the way it creeps up your shoulders to cover up the straps.

“The leaf design on the bodice and the shoulders are ivory lace, tulle and Royal Organza with an ivory gown, tulle illusion and beading,” She gestures to the material that covers the bottom of the gown, the material light and see-through in an elegant manner. “The back of the dress is a v-design and the leaf design also continues around here. I must say, it looks beautiful on you!”

At any other moment, you’d be wondering if she was just trying to hurry the appointment up to get it moving and have you putting a deposit down already. You’d taken up so much of her time today that you wouldn’t be surprised.

But she sounds genuine, and you’re too busy admiring the dress to care. Because you agree with her. It’s a stunning dress and for once, you think it does look beautiful. It hides all the bits you were self-conscious about yet outlined your body perfectly to give you a body silhouette that you loved.

The lace design extends along with the skirt in all directions but it’s only directly in the front and behind where it extends almost to the edge. It’s intricate and so delicate, causing you to wonder how people managed to make these. You certainly wouldn’t have the patience for it.

“I...I love it.” You find yourself saying, eyes wide as you look yourself over in the mirror. Shifting around, you turn to everyone and give them an expectant look. Posing for them slightly, you shift in all directions to make sure they can see it all properly before spinning and letting the dress flow out.

“Oh my god, it’s so beautiful.” Chungha breathes out, pressing a hand to her chest as her gaze is focused firmly on the dress. Soyeon is nodding too, a huge grin on her face before she squeals and claps her hand as her excitement takes over.

“Ahhhh! It’s amazing. Oh my god, it’s perfect!” 

Hoseok’s mom nods, standing up to move over to you and get a closer look. She slowly moves around you, taking in the gown up close before reaching out to gently trail her fingers over some of the lace. You let her, watching closely to see what she thinks.

“Oh my, Hoseok is going to cry. You look amazing.” Her words cause a sudden surge of emotion in you as you look over your shoulder, taking everything in once more. It’s not the fairytale moment you’d imagined it might be, but it feels close enough. There’s not a single thing you hate about the dress.

You don’t even particularly hate yourself in it. Biting your lip, you try to imagine yourself on the day itself; the veil trailing down your back while your makeup has been professionally done and a specially made bouquet is held in your hands. The feeling in your stomach isn’t anxiety or self-hatred but...excitement.

“Mom?” Looking at your mom, you see the way there are tears in her eyes too. She’s got her hands covering her mouth and you frown, hoping she’s okay. Stepping over to her carefully, you reach out and take her hands gently.

“Mom? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You’d crouch in front of her but you didn’t want to potentially do anything to ruin this dress. Not when you’d taken so long today to find it. Maybe you were just lucky that it had only taken one session to find it. You didn’t know, nor did you care anymore. 

You’d found it.

“Oh honey, you look so beautiful! I told you that you would, didn’t I?” Wiping at her eyes, she gives you a watery smile before giving a weak laugh. Slowly, she stands and places her hands on your shoulders, taking you in from a little distance with such a fond and happy look.

Feeling a little shy under her stare, you look down at your hands before taking a careful step back and letting her look at you from all directions. Chungha and Soyeon are almost vibrating with excitement as they stand to the side, clasping their hands together and giving you the biggest smiles possible when you laugh at them.

Looking over at Fatima, you smile at her. The look on her face is satisfied and you guess she’s probably content that she’s managed to fulfil her job today. Another bride was satisfied with her choice, after all.

“I think I’m going to have to put a deposit down on this one.” Looking back down at the dress, you run your hands down it once more in wonderment. It was odd to think that you were going to be wearing this in a few months, only then you’d be walking down the aisle to Hoseok. For a moment, you imagine what his face might look like.

Glancing at everyone else, you smirk slightly as you feel a little mischief taking over at the thought of him.

“Hoseok was bugging me this morning about if he could be allowed to see the dress. Trying to say that traditions are silly and everything. I’m going to call him, right now. Wearing this. Just to tell him I’ve found it. It’s going to drive him up the wall knowing I’ve picked it and he’s not allowed to see for months.” That makes his mom snort in amusement while Chungha let’s out a whoop of delight.

Your mom is shaking her head, amusement thankfully drying up her tears. Reaching to her, you embrace her in a tight hug that’s a little rare from you. But you’re thankful to her for everything she’s done and for all her support so far. Plus, you get the feeling she needs to have a hug right now.

She hugs you back just as tightly, patting your back before rubbing at it in soothing motions that make you feel young and small once more. When you pull away, she gives a slightly exasperated look before rolling her eyes.

“Go on then, go call him. Honestly. Do you two ever go a day without teasing each other relentlessly?” Laughing, you nod at Fatima who exits the room. You presume there’s more to go through before you’ll finally be able to leave but at least you can stop getting in and out of dresses finally.

“Never. Besides, this is revenge for him eating the last of the Crunchy Nut this morning.”

[visander]

A Christmas Miracle | Ao3. 

Magnus wasn't quite sure how he was going to spend his Christmas but struggling to close a rift in the middle of an icy hellscape as a sweet surprising shadowhunter offered him assistance wasn't quite what Magnus expected. 

This is my ‘Christmas Fic’ square for @shadowhunterbingo.

When Magnus imagined his Christmas plans, he’d thought that maybe he’d go visit Catarina and Ragnor. Maybe, he’d attend one of the various parties he’d been invited to. Maybe, he’d go to his own unofficial party in his club and he’d find someone to invite into his bed for the night. Really, he hadn’t had a solid plan yet. He never really did when it came to holidays. As a warlock, holidays came and went so quickly that none of them were very special and trying to plan something for an event that seemed to come and go so often was hard.

Christmas eve, Magnus still hadn’t known what he was going to do the next day but he had known what he wasn’t planning on doing and what Magnus had not been planning on doing Christmas day was chasing down a rogue warlock who was apparently dead set on summoning demons to wreak havoc on the world. Now, Magnus really didn’t understand why said warlock was determined to ruin such a lovely holiday but even beyond that, what really confused Magnus was why he personally had been tasked with containing the situation.

He was the High Warlock of Brooklyn and this snowy tundra that he had been sent to was not Brooklyn or even in the surrounding New York area. No, Magnus had been sent to the middle of godforsaken nowhere, to an area he had never been before and had no jurisdiction over, simply because he had made the unfortunate choice to answer the phone when he’d received a call from an unknown number.

What Magnus also hadn’t expected of his Christmas was the shadowhunters. Ideally, Magnus imagined his Christmas involving no shadowhunters at all but apparently, the world had decided to gift him a Christmas surprise in the from of a small band of shadowhunters, lurking in the woods around Magnus like he was stuck in a horror movie, fighting the stray demons that the warlock had managed to summon already.

Magnus, for his part, decided to stay as far away from the shadowhunters as he could. That was Magnus’ Christmas present to himself. He didn’t care if he was being rude. Magnus stayed away and ignored every effort they made at communication. They were there to fight demons. Magnus was there for a warlock. As far as Magnus was concerned, they had no reason to combine the two missions and for the most part, Magnus kept to that fairly well.

.

That is, until the end of the mission. Unfortunately for Magnus, towards the end of the mission, he found himself entangled with the same shadowhunters he’d set out to ignore. The warlock, apparently determined to ruin Magnus’ day even further, had made one last ditch effort to complete the summoning spell he’d already failed at countless times. This brought along a blast of magic that Magnus had felt shake the earth under his feet, effectively telling him exactly where he was supposed to go. This also alerted the shadowhunters, who met Magnus at the sight of the blast just when he walked up on it.

That meant that Magnus hadn’t had a second to assess the situation before he had shadowhunters up his ass, asking what he was going to do and how he was going to close the rift that had opened in the middle of the forest. Maybe, Magnus would have had an answer for them, if they’d shut up and given Magnus a moment to think.

Instead, they’d stood there and harped to him about the demons pouring through the rift, rather than you know, going to fight them like they were supposed to. Finally, Magnus had turned to snap and that’s when he’d looked at the shadowhunter that had come to bother him for the first time. The moment he did, he fell silent, any words dying on Magnus’ tongue.

The shadowhunter was beautiful. He was breathtaking even with dark hair, broad shoulders and a rune that Magnus would normally find distasteful placed in the spot on his neck that would put it at just the right angle for someone to suck on. Now, Magnus normally wasn’t one to let someone’s looks sweep any rational thought from his head, especially when it came to the gross danger shadowhunters brought but it was Christmas.

How could Magnus help but indulge himself? How could he see this opportunity as anything less than reparations from the Christmas gods in repayment for his horrible day? How could he see this as anything less than a gift? Sure, he was a shadowhunter but even a shadowhunter would look beautiful laying under him as they brought in Christmas Day the way the holiday was always meant to be celebrated - in pleasure.

Sure, Magnus also hadn’t hooked up with anyone in a very long time. If he took a step back and considered things rationally, that was probably a very big factor at play here. He was rather deprived at this point and it was Christmas. This shadowhunter was stunning and it was Christmas. Magnus was a weak man for a Christmas gift. He always had been.

The shadowhunter blinked, starting in nothing but confusion as Magnus thought all of this and said nothing to the questions the shadowhunter had posed a moment before, the ones that were all but lost to Magnus now.

Magnus blinked in return. He heard demons swarming around him, accompanied by the whirring noise of a rift breaking from their world to another. Right. It wasn’t just Christmas. Magnus had a job here, one that involved this shadowhunter, which Magnus was starting to see in a much more favorable light.

“Right,” Magnus started. He spoke confidently, despite not knowing what the shadowhunter had said while he was zoning out. He knew what Shadowhunters said anyway. He’d probably said something like, ‘Warlock! What are you going to do about these demons? Do you see the giant hole in the fabric of our reality? Are you going to do anything about that?’

They were ever so charming. Well, this one was. Magnus was hoping he’d manage not to ruin it when he opened his pretty mouth again. “I can close this rift easily,” Magnus waved his hand towards it dismissively. Truthfully, the rift was rather big. It would take a lot of effort, time and energy to close it but Magnus could close it. It would just… take a bit more effort than Magnus was letting on. Which is when Magnus realized he’d made a grave error trying to play the rift off like it was no big deal.

“Actually, I could use some help closing it if your friends can handle the other demons on their own?” Magnus raised an eyebrow. It was all a ruse to get the shadowhunter to stick by him but truthfully, the shadowhunter would be helpful. Magnus would be distracted closing a rift after all. He couldn’t bat demons away at the same time.

The shadowhunter blinked staring at Magnus in confusion before nodding suddenly as he seemed to realize that Magnus was asking for help. “Uh, yeah. I can help, Mr. Bane.”

Magnus stared. While he loved the sound of respect rolling off a shadowhunter’s tongue, ‘Mr. Bane’ was a little too formal for Magnus’ liking, especially considering what Magnus was hoping the shadowhunter would be into later in the evening, when all this mess was over.

“Magnus is fine,” he said quickly, “And you would be?” Magnus raised an eyebrow.

“Alec,” the shadowhunter said. His hand shot out for Magnus’, a reflective gesture that Magnus found amusing amidst this chaos.

Magnus reached for his hand and he couldn’t help but smile as their skin touched. Maybe it was the Christmas magic in the air or maybe Magnus was just fooling himself but he was sure there was a spark.

It would be a Christmas miracle if Alec felt it too. Truthfully, Magnus was pretty sure he was letting himself get swept up in a fantasy where a beautiful shadowhunter would not cringe at the thought of sleeping with him but hey, it was Christmas. Magnus could indulge his most unrealistic fantasies for the night, especially when the alternative was that Magnus was alone on Christmas, surrounded by demons and shadowhunters alike.

Magnus tried not to lament too deeply on the fact that he’d resorted to this to make his evening seem more promising.

.

Only a half an hour later, Magnus found himself in an even worse situation than he had before. Alec had graciously followed Magnus and guarded him while he attempted to close the rift that was currently scattering demons all over the woods.

All was going well, except for the fact that this rift was tricky. Some were harder to close than others. It depended on what word they’d open to. The most common rifts opened into Edom, their nearest demonic realm. Rifts to Edom were easy to open and therefore, rather easy to close. Other demonic realms could be tricker. They were harder to open and much harder to close.

Magnus had assumed this was a rift to Edom. He’d assumed based on the fact that the warlock who’d been determined to cause this distraction was thought to be rather young. Magnus had apparently been wrong. This rift was not open to Edom. Magnus didn’t know what world it was open to but Magnus did know that it was a hell of a lot harder to close than Magnus had expected it would be, even considering its size.

By the time that Magnus had the rift even a couple of feet smaller than it was originally, Magnus could feel himself wavering on his feet. He could do this. He knew he could. He had to do this. There wasn’t another warlock available to help, excluding the warlock who’d caused this and was probably miles and miles away by now.

Magnus had to close it but just then, he wasn’t sure that he could and it was almost as soon as Magnus thought this that the beautiful shadowhunter who he’d last seen darting around, shooting any demons who dared to threaten to come close to Magnus, was suddenly there. Alec held his hand out, his eyes wide and panicked.

Magnus froze. His hands were raised, holding the rift in place. He wasn’t closing it exactly. He wasn’t sure if he had the energy to try that again but he was at least holding it there, so that it wouldn’t erase all of his progress and pop back open. He’d just been about to figure out how the hell he was going to handle this and now, he didn’t know how this shadowhunter fit into that.

He wanted the shadowhunters' attention but not now. Now, it seemed a little more than disruptive.

The shadowhunter thrust his hand forward even further and when Magnus still failed to move, the shadowhunter slipped his hand into Magnus’ own. Beside himself, beside the situation before him, Alec’s hand was warm and Magnus’ fingers curled around him.

The other shadowhunters had moved closer and were now fighting off the demons that strayed too close, protecting them both so this shadowhunter could come over and… hold Magnus’ hand?

“Take it,” Alec said insistently. “My strength. It’s yours. Take what you need.”

Magnus blinked again. For a brief second, he had a moment of wondering just what Christmas miracle Magnus had found thrust at him to find a shadowhunter like this who was not only beautiful but willing to share his strength with Magnus, a warlock, when he needed it.

Magnus’ fingers tightened in Alec’s own. He didn’t have another second to contemplate it. Demons were pouring out. There was a rift. Magnus pulled strength from Alec’s hand and he didn’t have a second to look over and watch to see if the shadowhunter flinched at the feeling of a warlock draining him.

A minute later, the rift was closed. A few seconds after that, Magnus’ hand relaxed and then, Magnus’ entire body went slack. Another moment after that, Magnus felt himself teetering backwards and falling limp as the entire world went dark.

Magnus thought he felt arms grabbing at him but he passed out before he felt if he hit the ground or if his savior did manage to grab him.

.

Magnus woke up in one of his least favorite places: An Institute. Magnus wasn’t exactly sure which Institute he was in but it was dark and apparently, they couldn’t invest in decent heaters because it was freezing.

Magnus had been about to throw himself out of the bed, find the exit and then, somehow find his way home when he realized that he was in fact not alone. There was a shadowhunter sitting in the chair next to him and when Magnus blinked past his bleary eyes and looked closer, he saw that it was in fact his beautiful handsome shadowhunter from earlier - Alec, he’d said his name was.

Magnus leaned closer to look but when the man’s eyes snapped open and darted up to him, Magnus suddenly sat back.

“Mr. Bane,” Alec rushed out. His cheeks darkened and he seemed incredibly embarrassed to have been caught not only waiting next to Magnus’ bed but asleep. “You’re alright. Do you need anything?”

Magnus blinked and slowly leaned back into the very uncomfortable pillows that the Institute’s infirmary provided. This was a lot for Magnus to be dealing with all in a matter of a few minutes after passing out closing a rift on Christmas. “The warlock-” Magnus managed at last.

He had a lot that he wanted to say just then but his job was at the forefront of his mind. It had been his job to close the rift and capture the warlock. He’d only done the first half.

“Has been taken in and contained,” the shadowhunter reported diligently.

Magnus nodded, closing his eyes to try and ease back the throbbing that he was suddenly aware of in his temples. It was a familiar feeling that came when he used too much magic. He wasn’t thrilled, knowing the feeling would remain for at least the next twelve hours.

“You never gave me your last name,” Magnus said when he finally opened his eyes again.

The shadowhunter flushed, looking again embarrassed. Magnus almost smiled at the sight of it. He might have, if he hadn’t been feeling so weak. It was rare to find a shadowhunter so easily flustered. It was rare to find a shadowhunter like the one before Magnus in general.

“Alec,” the man hushed, though Magnus already knew that. He still looked quite embarrassed. Magnus thought it was adorable. “Alec Lightwood,” the man continued at last.

At that, Magnus’ eyes went wide. He couldn’t help the way that his spine straightened and he sat up a little taller in the bed.

Alec ducked his head, looking away instantly.

“You’re a long way from home, Lightwood,” Magnus cooed. His tone wasn’t exceptionally kind. He couldn’t help it. He had his prejudices just as well as anyone else. The Lightwoods were absolutely one of them and Magnus thought he’d earned that judgement, considering what he’d seen Alexander’s parents do.

Alec sat up a little straighter himself. His hands folded politely in his lap. “I decided to travel for a few years,” Alec said simply.

He didn’t seem inclined to provide more information but Magnus was never one to leave things alone.

“Needed some space from Mother Lightwood?” Magnus quipped.

He was kidding but Alec’s jaw tightened anyway. After a moment, he shifted and nodded stiffly. “I found out my parents were in the Circle last year. I decided to take some time away.” Alec fell silent but he didn’t remain silent for very long. His eyes flicked up to Magnus’ own again. “‘I’m sure you can understand that. I know you had a lot of encounters with the Circle when they were active.”

Magnus thought that ‘encounters’ was putting it a bit lightly but it would be picking at syntax to say so. Instead, Magnus said nothing for a long moment and Alec didn’t seem inclined to break the silence either. Magnus had just woken up. His brain was still foggy and this… well, this was even more unexpected than anything else Alec Lightwood had done thus far.

Part of Magnus thought this must be a facade. Truly, no shadowhunter could act like this and mean all of it. It was just too odd but subtly so. This could be who Alec was and yet, Magnus felt like he’d walked into a trap anyway. Shadowhunters didn’t care about what the Circle had done. Shadowhunters didn’t care if a warlock was struggling to close a rift. Shadowhunters didn’t sit by a warlock's bedside and wait for them to wake up.

Magnus had liked him. He’d thought he was handsome but it was a fun little fantasy.

He had not truly expected Alec to have a soft and kind personality to go along with his pretty Lightwood face, not even on Christmas.

“Why were you waiting by my bedside, Alec?”

Alec frowned, his hands suddenly twisting nervously in his lap. “You passed out. I carried you back because I didn’t want to leave you. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” Alec moved suddenly like he was going to stand and flee. “I’m sorry. Maybe, I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s Christmas,” Magnus said in lieu of responding.

Alec stilled and looked up at him confused until Magnus kept speaking.

“You found what your parents did to be so distasteful that you’re in the middle of nowhere at an isolated cold Institute on Christmas instead of spending time with your family?”

Alec frowned uncomfortably and then nodded anyway. “Yes. I wasn’t exactly invited back anyway, after what I had to say when I left.”

Magnus held Alec’s eyes for a long moment before he pulled the blanket from his lap and swung his legs over the side of the bed to stand. His joints and his muscles ached. His magic was screaming at him for stretching it so far. Magnus turned back to Alec and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, would you like to come have a drink with me, Alec? Perhaps in a place that doesn’t run an average of thirty degrees?” Magnus swung his arms wide across the empty infirmary they were in. “Unless you have some better plan for Christmas.”

Alec’s eyes widened and when he seemed to realize that Magnus was serious, he nodded frantically. “No, I don’t uh- I mean, I’m not doing anything and it is cold here.” Alec’s mouth snapped shut and his cheeks flushed red yet again. “I would like a drink,” he blurted out. “Somewhere warm would be pleasant.”

Magnus hummed softly and when Alec finally rose to his feet, Magnus reached his hand out for Alec’s own.

Alec looked exceptionally confused but he complied easily, slipping his hand into Magnus’. He clearly didn’t know what Magnus had intended and the fact that he’d given Magnus his hand anyway made Magnus laugh softly.

“I could use a bit of that strength again, unless you’d prefer to be stuck here.”

Alec nodded quickly. “Oh. Of course, take it,” he insisted.

Magnus paused, staring at Alec yet again. He didn’t think he’d ever get over a shadowhunter who was so eager to let a warlock use their energy. He’d tell Alec that later or perhaps, he’d just keep it to himself. Magnus wasn’t sure but he did know one thing. He was starting to think that Alec just might be his Christmas miracle and there was no way in hell he’d say that aloud, no matter how many drinks he’d need after a night like this.

Magnus opened a portal with Alec’s hand tight in his own and he tried not to think too deeply about where this could be going as they both stepped through together and landed in Magnus’ warm loft on the other side. A kind and beautiful Lightwood? It was a Christmas miracle indeed.

[allaboutve]

FAVORITE MOVIE REVIEWS: #9 THE THOMAS CROWN AFFAIR, John McTiernan

My ninth favorite movie is perhaps my most embarrassing.  The Thomas Crown Affair is fundamentally a date movie that happens to be about a heist.  And call me a liberal fruit bat, but the film articulates some very problematic values.

However, The Thomas Crown Affair benefits from being one of my favorite movies from my adolescence and does a lot of things right.  One of these is its representation of New York City, which is not accurate in detail as much as in spirit.

As an adult I appreciate the relationship between Thomas Crown, played by Pierce Brosnan, and Catherine Banning, played by Rene Russo.  There are no easy answers in the movie or in their fun yet troubled romance.  

Although The Thomas Crown Affair is shamelessly materialistic its moral strength is its honest amorality.  It never mistakes its main characters’ drives with a higher sense of right and wrong, which is sadly becoming the norm in today’s media.

Thomas Crown is a Wall Street Mergers and Acquisitions giant with a fondness for one particular painting--Noon - Rest from Work by Vincent Van Gogh. He affectionately calls it “Haystacks.”  

Late for work and stuck in traffic, he leaves his personal chauffeur in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art to view the painting from a bench the impressionist wing.  It should be mentioned that Crown brings a briefcase containing his lunch, which he eats in the museum.  

He shows up later in the day at the Wall Street headquarters of his company Crown Acquisitions, having accidentally left his briefcase in the museum.  Crown spends the rest of a busy day looking at his watch, waiting for the day to finally end.  Crown finally leaves the office with another briefcase and returns to the Met.  

I should mention that over the course of the day, a foursome of Eastern European thieves smuggle themselves into the museum hidden inside a Greco-Roman Horse (“Trojan Horse”) preparing to heist the very same wing Crown frequents.  Their heist is unrealistically complex--involving crawling through air ducts, sabotaging the air conditioning and an airlift via helicopter.

When Crown arrives, he discovers the nefarious goings on and draws museum security to it.  Security thwarts the art thieves before anything is stolen.  But not quite.

1999 audiences knew from the trailer that Thomas Crown would steal one of the paintings.  But in fact, the entire heist was orchestrated by Crown.  While the impressionist wing is sealed and the thieves apprehended, Crown slides under the closing gate, steals one painting off the wall and stashes it in a briefcase hidden under a museum bench.  He left the briefcase in the Museum intentionally!

And Crown is only able to make his escape because one of the gates is wedged open by the second briefcase he brought work.  We later learn the briefcase was loaded with titanium.  

Crown does not steal his “Haystacks.”  Instead, he steals a painting by Claude Monet San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk.  The movie sets up the painting early on as the watershed painting by Claude Monet that founded the Impressionist movement, worth $100 Million.

(It should be mentioned that this backstory is made up for the movie.  The Claude Monet painting that founded the Impressionist movement is named Impression, Sunrise.  It is actually housed in Paris and its subject matter is superficially similar to San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk, though less dramatic.)

This is our first insight into Crown’s personality.  Crown spends the early part of the movie fantasizing of an easier life, like the man enjoying a siesta in Noon - Rest from Work.  But it is a facade.  Crown is after the drama, dynamism and richness embodied in San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk.

The above synopsis is only approximately the first twenty minutes of the film.  The rest of the movie focuses on the investigation of the robbery.  On the case are two NYPD detectives (“Michael”) McCann and Paretti--played by Denis Leary and Frankie Faison.  

Having four thieves in custody, they want to treat the case textbook and overlook some of the unusual details.  But they are joined within the first hour of their investigation by a Private Investigator named Catherine Banning, played by Rene Russo.  

Her job “is the painting.”  Already a nuisance to the detectives, she sits in on the Witness ID of the thieves, in which Thomas Crown is the witness.  Banning gives Crown several suspicious glances, the gears in her mind turning.

After doing some research Banning discovers Crown has a habit of bidding on paintings by Claude Monet at auctions.  She becomes certain that he stole the missing Monet, and after she resolves other details of the robbery McCann and Paretti believe her.

The rest of The Thomas Crown Affair involves Banning’s attempt to retrieve the missing Monet by seducing Crown--who also appears to be seducing her.  While the plot develops it becomes unclear to both whether Banning is after the painting or Crown.

Whether or not The Thomas Crown Affair lands depends on its execution of the romance between Thomas Crown and Catherine Banning.  More than half of the movie conforms to the plot structure of any modern romantic film.  However, The Thomas Crown Affair deviates from romance tropes in several ways that give the film life where another film’s story and characters would drag.  

(SPOILERS BELOW)

This is not to say that there are not several romance tropes littered throughout the movie.  For instance, two love triangles are forced throughout the movie--involving Detective McCann and a young woman seen dancing early in the film with Crown.  One of these love triangles even leads to a misunderstanding that makes Banning betray Crown to the police in the film’s climax.

Banning is also led astray by Crown’s wealth and privilege--a tropey characteristic of female romantic leads all the way into the 21st Century.  This would not be distracting except that it occurs during a sequence in the Caribbean island Martinique where the film’s pace otherwise grinds to a halt.

For reasons to be discussed, these appear to be problems with the script from its most early drafts.  But The Thomas Crown Affair starts to circumvent romance tropes with its first shot.  If there is a theme in The Thomas Crown Affair I have come to respect, it is the couple’s incongruent needs.  Thomas Crown is attracted to Catherine Banning because of personal insecurity.  On the other hand, Banning is attracted to Crown because he is handsome, receptive and fun to be with.

Crown’s insecurities regarding his love life are first stirred up in his first scene when his therapist questions in session whether a woman could ever trust him.  In Crown’s relationship with Catherine Banning, he tries to prove that he trusts her as opposed to earning her trust.  

From this context, Crown cannot resolve by himself his insecurity about whether a woman can trust.  He is going about it wrong.  What’s more, trust issues are only Crown’s hangup, not necessarily Banning’s.

Crown’s insecurity is not resolved at the end of the film.  At a height of tension in their relationship, Crown promises Banning he will return the stolen Monet to prove that he trusts her.  Instead she passes the information to the police.

This turn of events is perhaps the strength of The Thomas Crown Affair as a romance film.  It is true that Banning sides with the police in part because of a misunderstanding about Crown’s relationship with another woman.  This sort of misunderstanding is typical of Hollywood romance films.  

On the other hand, the film avoids a more problematic romance trope by not stating whether Banning should choose Crown or the police.  Romance films are typically coded so that a couple, especially the female-gendered half, should choose their romantic interest over their other values or responsibilities.  But The Thomas Crown Affair does not even make the case that Banning should side with Crown over the police. 

A climactic chase follows between Crown and the police inside the Met.  Crown not only returns the painting while evading the police, he steals another--The Banks of the Seine at Argenteuil by Édouard Manet.  The painting by Manet is what Banning points to on their first date, saying she would steal that one if given the choice.

Banning goes to the Wall Street Heliport where Crown asks her to meet him.  But he has already left and his associate gives her the painting instead.  A generous gesture, but Banning does not keep the painting.  She returns it to the police instead.  

In that entire sequence, Crown shows that he did not fully trust her.  And Banning does not reciprocate Crown’s further doting on her. 

Catherine Banning’s attraction to Crown is based less on her emotional needs than for the thrill.  As Crown says on their first date, “You like the chase.”  This aspect is consistent with Banning’s counterpart in the 1968 film, Vicki Anderson as played by Faye Dunaway.

However, one of the major deviations between the 1999 movie and the original 1968 The Thomas Crown Affair is the remake’s “happy” ending.  Crown arranges to sit behind Banning on her flight back to Europe and draws her attention by speaking in a Scottish accent.

The scene is ambiguous as to the couple’s future.  The fact that Crown speaks in a Scottish brogue for his last line is a callback to the couple’s first date, when he says the hardest part of attending Oxford University was “learning to talk.”  Crown finally feels free of the pretensions of English and American culture.

At the same time, Crown and Banning’s needs in the relationship are so different that it is foreseeable they are not a long term match.  

As a film romance, The Thomas Crown Affair is refreshing because its romantic leads are not necessarily perfect for each other.  They have their own motivations that are never completely reconciled or resolved.  And that is more true to life than most Hollywood romances.

The Thomas Crown Affair’s script is written with a curious indifference to materialism.  In today’s world, its tone may come off as dissonant.  But understanding its perspective requires consideration of not only the era when it was written but the people involved in making the film.

The Thomas Crown Affair was one of the first films produced by Irish DreamTime, a production company founded by Pierce Brosnan and Producer Beau Sinclair.  By the time a Director was signed, at least one version of the script was already being drafted.  The best explanation why the film conforms to romantic comedy schlock is that its first draft was written to do so.

The early version of the script appears to have remained intact, since writing credits were still retained by Leslie Dixon and Kurt Wimmer.  And since Pierce Brosnan was a producer, this means that The Thomas Crown Affair was intended as a vehicle for Brosnan.  This is made apparent in the Martinique sequence, which is also where the film’s perspective on materialism is its most loud.

In the exact middle of the film, Crown takes a holiday with Catherine Banning in his island estate.  As intimate and seductive as the setting is, Crown also advertises his lavish lifestyle to Banning.  His seduction of Banning becomes more obvious when he offers her even more money than her commission to run away with him.

This sequence was likely included at the behest of Actor-Producer Brosnan himself.  The actor has a well known attraction to tropical locales and even maintains a home in the Hawaiian Islands today.  The ambiguities regarding Crown’s criminality or immorality would then be the product of indifference by the Writers and production staff.

This part of the film stands out in the 21st Century because of several scandalous stories involving Caribbean criminal havens, including the Paradise Papers and Jeffrey Epstein’s estate on Little Saint James in the U.S. Virgin Islands.  

Obviously these scandals were not in the mind of the Producers when the movie was shot in the late 1990s.  

But Thomas Crown is also represented ambiguously throughout the film.  He is a remorseless criminal who has his hands dirtied by other schemes--bribery and offshore banking.  This is consistent with the original 1968 film where Crown was more a villain than antihero.  But more than the 1968 film, Thomas Crown is humanized as a protagonist and romantic lead.  By association his values are also normalized.

Director John McTiernan’s similarities to Thomas Crown make the film’s perspective on materialism and white collar crime suspicious.  McTiernan did more than direct.  He also (uncredited) rewrote the script and used his own property and vehicles in the film.

McTiernan’s biography is also suspect.  In 2000 McTiernan wiretapped a film Producer and later lied to Federal Investigators twice.  Prosecution would drag until 2013 when McTiernan was finally sentenced to twelve months in prison.  

During McTiernan’s first sentencing in 2006, the presiding judge publicly stated John McTiernan thought he was “above the law,” and “lived a privileged life and simply wanted to continue.”

There is reason to believe that McTiernan based Thomas Crown on himself during his rewrite.  Thomas Crown is shown not to be attracted to fame or a cushy lifestyle.  Instead, he is a thrill-seeker with a death wish.

But Crown’s motives are never stated explicitly in The Thomas Crown Affair.  Furthermore, they are muddied by the existence of a forged Monet in Crown’s possession.  The forged painting is eventually discovered by Catherine Banning.  Although Crown needed the real Monet to commission the forged Monet, we learn by the end that Crown no longer had the stolen painting when he first met Banning. 

Although the forged Monet tricks Banning, this could not have been Crown’s intent when he commissioned it.  The best explanation is that Crown intended to trick the police.  

More than that, it means Crown committed his theft intent on being found out.  This is curiously similar to the judge’s description of Director John McTiernan--that he thought he was “above the law.”  McTiernan’s detachment from the consequences of lying to Federal Investigators twice also echoes Crown’s arrogant disrespect for the police.

There are also sociological reasons The Thomas Crown Affair is ambivalent about wealth and materialism.  Public opinion about Wall Street and the U.S. financial industry was not as negative in 1999 as it is in 2021.  This is partly a result of politics changing in response to current events.  

At the same time, the Wall Street boom of the 1980s and how it changed New York City were still fresh in the public consciousness of 1999.  Especially in 1999, where big business was not yet politically divisive prior to the Dot-Com Bust.

The indifference the public had for big business is embodied by Detective McCann.  By the end of the movie, although Thomas Crown has outsmarted the police and museum security, McCann admits to Catherine Banning that he does not really care about catching Crown.  

McCann implies that compared to cases of domestic violence and human exploitation he usually investigates, the art heist by Crown is a victimless crime.  The stolen paintings only matter to “very silly rich people.”

Detective McCann is held up throughout the film as its moral center.  He has legitimate care and respect for Catherine Banning--even though it is shamelessly teased as a love triangle.  He is motivated to solve the case from a sense of professional responsibility.  In his last scene Banning even tells him, “You’re a good man, Michael.”

But McCann’s indifference to Crown’s crimes is The Thomas Crown Affair’s moral failure.  The victims of art theft are not just the owners but the public itself.  Pop culture pre-Enron was similarly indifferent about fraud and white collar crime, believing the victims were only the rich and wealthy.  

This indifference is a product of the era.  The world would learn very shortly that costs of financial fraud and white collar crime are felt more by society than by the financial industry itself.  But to Hollywood and audiences in 1999, Thomas Crown’s art theft and financial crimes were all victimless crimes.

An aspect of The Thomas Crown Affair that deserves credit is its representation of New York City.  The city depicted in the film is different from the experiences of most New Yorkers, even in 1999.

Although the film is not always shot in the correct location, the city is represented well in spirit.  Early in the movie, a truck driver making a delivery to the Met gripes when Thomas Crown crosses into his lane.  Detective McCann similarly expresses contempt for New York City’s social circuit in a manner often overhears.  “I love this neighborhood, some of these broads are wearing my salary.”

An AIDS Research Ball hosted by BVLGARI is another realistic part of New York City culture in that AIDS activism had become mainstream by the late 1990s.

The Thomas Crown Affair is shot in a part of New York City that is inaccessible to most people, yet widely advertised.  And it is represented in film authentically and amorally--if for no other reason than because the film was shot almost entirely within the city.

Perhaps the most widely entertaining aspect of The Thomas Crown Affair is its contribution to the heist film genre.  Heist films are different from other crime movies in that the narrative usually follows the criminal’s or robber’s perspective.

Heist films are also preoccupied with how the criminal will pull off the caper.  They differ from detective films where catching and identifying the criminal are the lingering mysteries.  

But The Thomas Crown Affair is different from other heist movies in that the finer details of Thomas Crown’s capers are never shared with the audience.  For instance, when Crown steals the Monet we are left to wonder how he evaded museum surveillance.  Catherine Banning offers an explanation, but the question is never answered for certain.

Another mystery lingers when Thomas Crown steals the Manet at the end of the film.  Absolutely no hints are offered as to how he managed to steal it.  Part of the attraction of films like these is they leave audiences to guess how certain events occurred.  

My favorite explanation for the stolen Manet is that Crown had a mole working at the Met steal the painting beforehand.  That also explains how Crown obtained the information necessary to steal the first painting.

Catherine Banning’s explanation for why museum security failed to capture the first theft is that a heater was left in front of the painting.  That is because museum surveillance used infrared cameras that responded to temperature, and a heater would have been just enough to interfere with the infrared camera.  I should mention now that this feature of museum surveillance is one of the more far-fetched details in The Thomas Crown Affair.  Especially today, since face recognition software is in such demand in cyber security.

Lack of realism in films about art or jewel theft is common within the genre, and especially true of the era’s other films--Mission: Impossible, Entrapment and Ocean’s Eleven.  

The purpose of heist movies like this is wonder more than realism.  And prior films have been similarly tongue-in-cheek about painting and jewel theft--such including the Blake Edwards comedy The Pink Panther.  

Films like The Thomas Crown Affair are not intended to be a blueprint for future criminals.  Ironically, The Thomas Crown Affair did inspire one bank robber who got away with the loot using the same costumed diversionary tactic as Thomas Crown in the film’s climactic chase scene.

Even though I have said a lot about The Thomas Crown Affair, there are simple reasons why I am fond of the movie.  It is a well-made movie, beautifully shot and secretly intelligent.  It is a decent representation of New York City, despite complications in the script and budget.

The movie itself is light and entertaining and leaves it up to the viewer to make up their mind.  Yes, it requires some suspension of disbelief.  Yet even in that way, it treats its audience as mature adults.  A quality rare in action or romantic films of any era. 

-ve

NEXT POST--#8 LET THE BULLETS FLY (dir. Jiang Wen)

[peachykindalovesyou]

L'erreur Du Fou

Rook Hunt x assassin! fem! reader

Word count:: 2k+

Warnings:: gore, character death, blood mentions, weapon/knife mentions

Author’s note:: god damn am i proud of this

---

     I was the fool who had made the mistake. I was the madman who had thought I could do this. It was an assignment from my boss, I couldn’t decline. Just one more wipeout, and I am in his favor. I was his greatest, one of the best. I honored him; I was a mascot to our team.

     He always said he would leave the best for last, but my victim, my prey, he was one unlike the others. Fast, diligent, flexible, astounding, he was the ideal target for pride. I was all of those things as well, yes, but the way he portrays his ability is simply magnificent. Fast yet delicate strides, quiet graceful gazes, however he did it, I must know as well.

     This was the night I would strike him. Tonight, I will have the power others have dreamed of, I could have the power no one else could have; Something of unimaginable potential. With those abilities, I will be different from the rest, superior, even. This is all I’ve ever wanted and craved, to be the favored by my peers. 

     The corridor was dark, moonlight shown through the glass stained with the seven sins. Chandeliers with stunning crystals decorated the ceiling. The floor was marbled and etched with strokes of grey and blue, with every step I took, it echoed in a symphonic way. The light sound of ballroom music could be heard faintly. 

     Even if this is the night I charge, I still had my doubts. I blocked them out as well as I could, hiding them away in the deepest depths of my thoughts. Everything I seemed to do never worked, it always shot me like a bullet. I must do it; I need to get this job finished. But my heart, my heart desires him. ‘The heart wants what it wants’ is what they always told me; they were all right.

     For my victim, my target, my prey, he drew me in, just as some simple prey like him should. I felt as if he could see right through me, he isn’t supposed to. ‘The Hunter Of Love’ he proclaimed himself, for it seems he was right as well. All of his romantic gestures and enchanting features had me head deep in passion.

     He should be attending the ball soon; I have come here to this corridor to ready myself for what’s to come. Just beyond this hallway, is an astonishing, breathtaking event. The walls and floors painted in gold. The décor was  miraculous, it all seemed unrealistic. The food and beverages prepared for the ball were so aesthetically placed, you wouldn’t dare to take a bite.

     The people who attended were only invited of the utmost honor of the headmaster of Night Raven College, the most prestige and powerful academy of this world. Only the most phenomenal wizards and magicians were ever enrolled. All regions from all over Twisted Wonderland were welcomed to this event; That would mean, The Rose Kingdom, The Coral Sea, The Land Of Pyroxene, Jubilee Port, The Land Of Hot Sands, Afterglow Savanna, Valley Of Thorns, Village Of Harvest, and The Isle Of Lamentation.

    I continued walking, keeping an eye out for the hunter. The music only got louder and louder the further I walked, as expected. Sound of piano and violin could be heard through the door, it was so beautiful. My long dress cascaded down my hips, long black cloth drug across the shiny and clean marbled floor, the sleeves and sheer outer coat were scattered with silver sequins and small diamond studs.

    As the giant door had finally opened, I saw a large amount of people gathered together in the ballroom. I held the invitation in my hands; readying myself for what’s to come. The ghost guards stood in front of the entrance, ordering me to hand in my invitation. I nodded, placing the black and gold envelope in their gas like hands. Stepping in, I had finally spotted him. There he stood, black suit, shiny blonde hair, piercing green eyes, to top it off; his smile was like none of the others, it stood out in the crowd of magicians.

    He glanced in my direction, waving goodbye to the other guests, and walking towards me. I kept my composer, standing straight and giving him a thick silence. “Good evening, Mademoiselle (Y/n). Are you enjoying yourself?” He bowed down, taking my hand, and pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. “I cannot say, for I’ve just arrived.” He gave me a wider smile, standing upright and tilting his head to the side. “That’s a shame, Ma Cherie. Well, the dance is starting soon, would you like to join me?” He held out his gloved hand, waiting for my response. “I would be honored, Monsieur Hunt.” With that, he led me to the middle of the ballroom where the main event began. I waited; it would take me a while to get him where I need him.

    “Ma Cherie, is there a specific reason you’ve decided to join us today? Of course, other than the fact that all students and instructors were invited.” His breath fanned my neck and we swayed in sync. “No, I just thought I’d enjoy myself for once. I’ve been very stressed lately, work outside of school is difficult catching up with.”

    He slid his hand down my waist, pulling me in closer; Just as he always does. “What kind of work do you do? I’m curious. Writing? Photography? Modeling? Mayhap, hunting-“ He’s onto me. “-For a new one already?” Or not. I chuckled at him, trying to brush off his last comment. “No no, I’d rather keep my private like private, thank you very much.” My feet moved with his, swirling around the ballroom in smooth circles. “And why is that? Are you afraid of me catching you red handed?” My brain froze, avoiding his questions smoothly. “Well, Mr. Hunt, I like to keep my life private for the same reason we close doors when using the restroom.”

    “My, Ma Cherie, what a brave soul you are for speaking such a thing out loud; What have you to hide?” He laughed at my last comment, but I am not a comedian for say. “Well, for starters, I have been keeping quiet about how charming you look this evening.” My boss always said the key to conversating with a hunter is bravery, keep them on their toes. “Oh mon! Thank you Ma Lapin, how very kind of you~” His voice enticed me even further, it was smooth, deep.

    “Oh? Ma Cherie, you seem to have lost track.” He tapped my shoulder and I snapped out of my daze; I was far too deep in his spell. His masculine features and charming touches were absolutely captivating. The way he drew me in was no laughing matter, his praises had me above the clouds, and his smile; his smile is what had me shamelessly spellbinded to him. The moment he had flashed me that heavenly grin is when I knew he would be the end of my career; he would be the end of me.

    “Ma Cherie, if you could, I would like to have a talk with you.” He spoke in a serious tone, and I couldn’t help but follow along. “Of course, is there anything specific you would like to discuss?” I followed along side him down the corridor. “Yes. You seem to be a bit out of it lately, is something on your mind?” Did he know? “No, it seems I’m just a little charmed by you tonight.” Would praise get me out of this? “Mademoiselle (Y/n), I am by far endured by your praise, but please, do not avoid the question. I am a hunter, studying someone is what I do best. I know there is something picking at you.”

    We stood in front of the stained glass, the blue moonlight hitting his angelic features so perfectly. The tinted glass was painted with something, the sin of lust and love. ‘Eros’ as some would call it, ‘Aphrodite’ the people said, ‘Asmodeus’ is lesser known. But to me, the sin, the décor, it’s all nothing but a joke. A sick and twisted joke to get everyone to believe that what they do matters, but we all die in the end. There is no use in doing what you love, there is no use finding love, there is no use following the belief that love is real.

    “Well, nothing in particular has been itching at me. I guess I am just a bit…distracted tonight.” Tonight…tonight…TONIGHT! He drew me in too far, I was supposed to be the one drawing him in. I fell for his charm, I fell for his dirty tricks, I fell for…him. Because of him, I will fail my mission. My pride, my honor, it will all be torn down to pieces once my boss sees me in the hands of ‘The Hunter Of Love’. I stayed quiet, waiting for an answer from him, but it never seemed to come.

    “…Rook Hunt, The Hunter Of Love, a beauty of the Pomefiore dorm, the assistant of Vil Schoenheit himself, it seems I have…” I ran away from my statement, this isn’t supposed to be happening, this cannot be true. “…Fallen for me?” He finished my sentence and I hold back a cry. I stayed quiet, but I have yet to leave myself vulnerable in front of him. “Well?” He took a step forward, tilting my head up with his thumb and pointer finger.

    Normally people would try to deny their love for someone. “Yes, I have fallen for you. But for that, I despise you as well. You’ve ruined me, you’ve stolen my pride, I’m only a toy for someone to play around with. But as the adults have always said ‘Put your toys away when you’re done with them.’ And it seems you’ve forgotten to.

    His eyes widened; a look of shock painted over his face. “Ma Cherie, you could not really mean that, could you? Falling for me? Hating me?” He seemed heartbroken. Had I got through him? It’s hard to tell, he’s never like this. “I-…” I paused my answer, letting my tears glide down my rosy cheeks. He let out a gasp, now was my chance. I quickly turn us around, stepping forward until he was backed up against the wall. “Rook Hunt, you are the only thing holding me back from what I truly want, I’m sorry for thi-”

    I didn’t get a chance to finished before he turned the tables, he had his hand to my throat and a hunting knife to my neck. “Ma Cherie, if you are really planning on assassinating me for power, that is truly a shame. I understand how you feel, killing someone you love is the hardest part of that life.” He pressed the knife into my neck with more pressure, small droplets of blood painted my skin. “I- R-Rook, P-pleas-e-“ I put my hand on his wrist, only for him to more pressure.

    “Mademoiselle (Y/n), it is time for your career to end. You’ve wanted this for the longest time, right? But I won’t let you go without a proper goodbye.” The weapon fully slid through my throat, choking on the crimson liquid, and coughing it up, Rook pressed his lips to mine. He held me with such passion, as I slowly lost breath in his arms. He pulled away, blood staining his lips and clothing. “Ma Cherie, I love you.”

    I reached my hand out to him, but it was too late. The knife had been slit through my throat, and I shut my eyes for good. His words echoed in my head as I the last glance I got of him was him pressing his lips to my dying body, a tragedy, Night Raven College’s best assassin, defeated by Rook Hunt.

[courtlyharlequin]

omg this event you've made is so adorable 🥺🥺 congrats on 100 followers too btw! 🎉🎉 for my request... I'd like to order a Lavender Rose White Mocha with Cater please !

The Only One

Warning(s): female reader, mutual pining, slight angst, slight fluff at the end

A/N: Aww thank you, Marzi~ And I’m at 250 now. Whoops lol. This took so long to write because I wanted to make it angsty even though it was supposed to be funny.. I literally can only write angst. It’s kind of sad. But Cater is good angst material ohoho~ But don’t worry it’s just a little sad not heart wrenching. I hope you like it

Cater took a liking to you. More than he would've liked. It was silly, after all. You were just another regular at this coffeeshop. There were a handful of you, but out of all of them, he just had to like you enough for it to be labeled as a crush by his colleagues. His juniors poked fun at his "special treatment" towards you. But what of it? There was nothing. He simply thought you were down to earth and nothing more.

You were mundane, nothing striking about your appearance. You were pretty, yes, but you were pretty in a way where everyone looked at you for a moment, concluding that your appearance was a little above average, then turn away and rarely ever steal a glance at you again. You dressed comfortably and did not care much about how others perceived you. You dressed for yourself, nothing sparkly, nothing that stands out too much. To someone like Vil Schoenheit, a fellow barista, you would be named a potato on the spot. If you were a potato, you would be Cater's favorite potato. But, you're not a potato. You were more like a yellow carrot. A simple vegetable, but striking in your own, unique way.

Punctual, you were. You came to the café every day at the same time to order something to-go and leave within ten minutes. The only exception was on the weekends because you reserved those days to catch up on sleep lost during the week whilst selling your soul to the oh so prestigious Night Raven College, the school which he also attended. He saw you around, but never properly conversed with you.

He preferred keeping his fondness for you as a customer as just that– fondness.  Fondness from afar. He liked this invisible bond you two had, how he just knows what you're in the mood for, how he prepared a shot of espresso especially for you, and left it on standby, waiting for you to claim it.

There was nothing more than that. You weren't even friends. He was content with the fact that he could even talk to you at all. Perhaps it might be a self-projection, but he liked you because you seemed to have everything Cater ever wanted– an appearance that wasn't over the top and a distaste for all things eye-catching and glittery. But most of all, an authentic personality. You were real. There was no pretending. You didn't beat around the bush when ordering your initial order– the rosé latte.

"I just wanted to see if my soulmate is here," you smiled.

But they weren't. Or so you said.

"He's not here, I guess..."

Anyone would have been crushed, but you... you shrugged it off and came back the next day and the day after that and the day after that. You came every, single day.

Cater made sure not to touch on the subject of soulmates during your conversations. A little part of himself hoped that you were "the one", but he knew from his sisters' horror stories, that love does not always last. From their tales, he was much more cautious and hoped for someone while aware that they won't be around forever. "The one" is not just the person you first lock eyes with in a hallway. "The one" is always your first kiss or your first time. "The one" could be from a different universe. "The one" was unrealistic.

When he had met you, it was love at first sight and also love at first response. When you admitted that you believed the rumors about the latte unlike the many customers who denied the fact that they were desperate for love, Cater was taken aback by your honesty. He was bewitched by it.

Part of him was hoping that you would say that he was your fated lover though he acknowledged that the chances of that happening was as slim as Vil's stiletto heels. At the moment, he was completely, and utterly infatuated by your simple appearance. He had subconsciously projected his idea of "the one" onto you, hoping, by the love of god, that you were his soulmate. He knew it was a long shot from the start.

Nevertheless, when you said that there was no soulmate for you at all,  it hurt. For him. For you. But, if there was one thing Cater was good at, it was faking a smile and hoping for the best. And he did just that for you.

"Ah... don't worry, (y/n), they're bound to be here for sure!" he winked.

God, it was painful.

Some time passed after that and the way his heart throbbed at the thought of you not having a soulmate, and that he was not said soulmate, only festered. You came every day, on the hour. As punctual as ever. As vivacious as ever. You came as if the concept of soulmates did not exist. You came happily. You talked to him so easily as if he was not the one who witnessed your pitiful epiphany. Not that he questioned it, of course. He never wanted you to leave. He wanted to spend more time with you and defy fate just to be with you, but he kept his distance.

On the contrary, you concluded that he was holding back on something, but you did not want to push your luck. You didn't even have to ask. His body language displayed dejection, a slight discomfort. You often wondered why he was so chummy with you compared to the rest of the regulars in the shop. It was probably out of pity after your first encounter. But in truth, you had found your soulmate. Were you certain that he was your soulmate? Of course not. There is no certain way to confirm it. You've watched other girls come in and simply declare that someone was their soulmate after sipping that latte.

"How did the other person feel?" you wondered.

You were unsure as to how to go about it so you just left it at that. It was so silly. But what's even more absurd is that a drink could help one find their "one and only". You decided to go with your gut... even if you took a liking to a certain quirky and peppy barista. You wanted to get to know him more.

Part of you wanted to shout: "I'm your soulmate!", but that was ridiculous. That declaration was something the other person cannot decline. It was unfair for "your soulmate" if they did not feel the same way. If you had shouted: "I'm your soulmate!", it would be more of an obligation for the other person to love you. You did not want that for him. But... you did like him. A lot. You took it upon yourself to mold a relationship with him more organically.

You came to know that despite Cater's appearance, he was a coffee nerd at best. He liked to make small talk with you, talking about how stainless steel cups were the absolute bane of coffee and how ceramic cups were superior. Cater appreciated the fact that you were a woman of culture, who used ceramic cups for her to-go orders, who understood his coffee trivia or his random talks about events on Magicam.

While no significant bond formed between the two of you, one could say that you knew each other well enough to be acquaintances. There were rare occasions he shared Magicam posts with you, ones that he found worthy of wheezing whilst waiting for an order with a particularly long assembly process:

"Pfttt, (y/n)! Have you seen that video of a chicken running around in pants?"

"No? Wait! Is there such a thing?!"

"Here–"

"No!! It's probably really cursed like that picture of Professor Trein in stripper attire!" you yelped, covering your eyes.

"Okay fine. Have a picture of puppies instead."

You turned your attention back to his phone, only to regret it the moment you saw the post, "Cater!! I said I didn't want to see it! Now I can't get it out of my head..."

"It's funny though isn't it?"

You stifled a laugh, "I suppose. But it's very wrong at the same time. Animals and clothes don't go together, usually."

"Hmm... I think they weren't meant to be, but they still look good together. Like dogs look good in clothes. You can confirm that with Professor Crewel's Magicam page. It's like ahh- what is it called- oh! A happy accident! That's what that artist called it right?"

"But it looks so wrong on a chicken."

"Now are you saying a chicken can't pull off jeans?"

"Well, maybe?"

"I'm just messing, (y/n)," he chuckled, turning back to work on your beverage, sliding his phone into his back pocket.

You watched his back in silence. When he was done with your order, you thanked him and left the café.

That night, you searched up the video yourself, wondering why you found it funny the second time around. It shouldn't be funny, but it was.

It became apparent to you that Cater liked those animal videos. He showed you the next day as well.

"They're cute," you said.

In truth, they were. Were they his favorite kinds of posts? Perhaps. He did like adorable animals, but he leaned towards posts about music. Or at least, the side of the personality he showed to a majority of others did. Cater wanted to be himself around you. He tried. He showed posts about kittens and puppies to you to stir up a casual conversation. It worked most of the time. However, he also wanted others (and you, of course) to like him. Whenever his classmates came around, he would cease conversation with you or, if he was showing you a post and could not put his phone away fast enough, he would swipe to his more "manly" posts, the ones about skateboarding tournaments and such.

"Yea–"

"Mornin', Cater!"

"Pfft! No, they aren't! Oh but check this out instead! There's a new set of headphones and it sorta matches my skateboard, dontcha think?" he nervously shrugged, turning to his colleague, "Mornin', Ace!"

"Can I see the headphones too? They sound so cool!"

"What kind of upperclassman would I be if I didn't show my junior something like this," Cater grinned.

A struggle, it was.

After you left the café, Cater cursed himself. Did it come off as rude when he abruptly halted the conversation to greet a fellow barista? Did it come off as rude when he changed the subject of the conversation the moment Ace came onto the scene? He sure hopes not. He loved to make you laugh. Many have told him that the opinions of others don't matter, but old habits die hard. He's always been a people pleaser even if they weren't looking or listening to him rambling to you about animals.

Well, whatever, right? This was his poor attempt to flirt with a crush without being too direct. Cater didn't know why he even tried. You probably found your soulmate already. You might've met him after you left the shop outside on the sidewalk or something. Cater was content with seeing you every morning before you headed off to school. There was a time where he was mopey about it, but he needed extra cash so he chose that course so he could work the morning shift at this café. Now, he was glad he had late start classes if it meant having one on one time with you. He loved to talk to you; he also liked the days where you sat in the silence, listening to the clinks of cups and spoons.

Cater wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box, but he wasn't the dullest either. He was perceptive as one would say. You came here around the same time every day– always wanting to try something new, but always leaning towards the drinks with subtle floral. He liked how your nose crinkled whenever the fragrance was too strong, meaning you would have a hard time swallowing the concoction. From there, he assured you that he would dilute the flowery flavors for your sake, thus opening your options. Your grateful beam was what he lived for these days. Your giggle was like jingles of bells, like how fairies talked. Seeing you on a daily basis was his dose of caffeine. It brightened his day. He hated how he waited for you and panicked when you were just a few minutes late. You were always on time. You always ordered to-go but stayed for a few minutes to dilly dally with him. Cater wasn't one for routine or rules. He never understood Riddle, his coworker, for always wanting things to be a certain way– all day and every day. But with you, he understood the redhead just a little bit more.

And because he more or less understood Riddle's need for things to be in order, today was an off day. You were late. Very late. Later than usual. Later than ever before. It was the weekend and you slept in, meaning you swung by around early noon when the sun was at its midpoint in the sky. It was sundown now. Moreover, it was raining. Cater assumed that you stayed home because of the rain, but it was not raining in the morning so what kept you?

He hated himself for relying on you as a source of happiness. How could he not though? You made his heart race a thousand miles per hour. You weren't that pretty. You were plain, but he liked that. He was confused as to why... but he liked the fact that you did not invest your time in over-the-top ensembles. He liked how your lashes were of a decent length and how they didn't look like butterflies were resting on your eyes. He liked how your makeup if you were wearing any on a particular day, enhanced your natural beauty rather than make you look like a clown.

Cater liked, no– loved, you more than he should've. You were not meant to be with him. He was not your soulmate and you were not his. It was like how people were meant to fall in love, but could not be together in the long run. You didn't have to say anything to him. He knew that he wasn't meant for you. You deserved someone real, someone unlike him.

The barista smiled sadly as he wiped the last speck of dust on the worktable. Yes, you deserved better than a café fling. You deserved better than a facade that was molded so that he could survive school.

He stared out the rose-tinted windows. The rain poured like an endless stream of tears. There was not a soul on the streets. Cater turned to deposit the rag into the to-wash bin. The door chimed, signaling a new customer. Oh boy... he was not in the mood for this...

"Hey, sorry, we're closed right now!" he said, feigning a peppy aura.

"Cater..."

"(y/n)? What are you doing here? And you're soaking too! Wait let me get you a towel. I'll be right back–"

His body reacted before his mind could process. Before he knew it, he was right by your side. He was close enough to touch you, but he only hovered, waiting for permission to lightly hold you by the shoulders.

"No, no, Cater... It's fine. I just wanted to talk to you," you whimpered, taking his wrists and bringing them to your shoulders.

"You're freezing! Sit down. I'll make you something to warm you up."

He ran back to the counter, whipping out his supplies and getting to work as fast as his hands could allow him to.

"No, listen, this will be quick, I promise. I don't intend to waste any more of your time than I already have."

You obeyed, making yourself comfortable at one of the barstools.

"You've never wasted my time, (y/n)," he said, staring intently into your eyes, sliding you a to-go cup.

That was... fast. You hoped Cater wasn't waiting for you all day, just to give you this beverage. The cup was filled to the rim with whipped cream and lavender sprigs. It looked like something out of wonderland, something the Mad Hatter would serve Alice if it had to be something other than tea. His viridian green eyes peered into your soul. It was hard to decline. Hesitantly, you took the cup, taking a sip out of it. Ah... warm. Thank goodness he wasn't waiting for you. Or was he? You weren't sure how brewing coffee worked, but you knew he always kept a shot (or was it a pot?) for you on the side. He seemed distraught. The last thing you wanted was for your beloved barista to wear such a raw and broken expression.

"Did you wait for me all day?"

"...Yes, but don't worry about it! It's not your job to come here every day. How's the mocha though? I made it in such a rush that I don't know if I eyeballed the ingredients properly."

"Mocha? That's new."

"Oh yeah!  That's a Lavender Rose White Mocha! I heard lavender is supposed to have calming effects. Thought it would help you with whatever you're dealing with."

"How thoughtful of you."

"I know, I know," he smirked, "Now, answer my question: what are you doing here so late? And in the rain with no umbrella or coat too!"

"I wanted to see you."

"You could have seen me in the morning," he groaned, flopping his upper body onto the counter.

"I needed some time to think about exactly what to say."

"Well, you're here now. Shoot."

You inhaled, "I'm your soulmate."

Cater shot up from his sprawled positioned, eyes glistening, brimmed with excitement– a flood of emotions. You could not tell if they were positive or not.

You continued before he could say anything, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything before. I just... wanted our relationship to develop organically."

"There's a 'but' somewhere in this, isn't there?" he smiled sadly.

You nodded, "Our relationship developed organically, alright, but I feel... like... you don't deserve someone as ordinary as I am. You like to skateboard and you like to raise the cutest mandrakes for the fun of it... and I... I'm just a girl who likes people with interesting stories, people who lead lives without a single pause. I like you, I do, but I feel like 'the one' for you is so much more than what I can offer. I feel that is so unfair for you. Just because I drank something and declared that you are mine does not mean that you don't have a say in this too. I didn't know how to tell you, knowing that you would probably want someone better. I tried. Every single day since I tried that damn latte... but I couldn't... I always chickened out..."

"(y/n)..."

"But, now that I told you, I can finally let you shine like the star you are. Thank you for everything, Cater."

"Wait, (y/n), I also–"

"I don't need your pity. It's okay," you sighed, leaning forward to press a kiss on his lips, "I just wanted to do that... at least once."

And with that, you bolted out of the coffeeshop in embarrassment, in regret, and woe. You ran as fast as you could. It was so stupid!! The sole concept of someone to be "made for you" was so superficial, unreliable, and unrealistic. You hated how you fell for the idea of a soulmate rather than the person himself, believing that Cater was the boy for you. But that's burdensome for someone who never felt the same way. He would have liked a "cooler" girl not a plain Jane, vanilla kind of girl. The rain masked your tears. It truly hurt you. Your heart was so detrimental.

"(y/n)!! Wait!"

You stopped to turn around to meet the owner of the voice. It was all too familiar. You had spent at least ten minutes with him every day for a couple of months now, after all.

"Cater?"

"S-Slow down... I'm in the light music club, not track and field," he wheezed.

You did not heed his words and spun your heel, preparing to run off to your dorm once more.

"HEY!!! LISTEN!!!" he yelled as he tackled you with a bear hug from behind.

"No!"

You squirmed, but to no avail.

"Cater...What is there to listen to? I'm just in love with the idea of you being my soulmate, not you... I doubt that you would ever fall for such a simple girl like me without that latte. You're so cool and trendy. I could never be your lover! T-That's just not fair to you!" you sobbed, the tension in your muscles relaxed in his grip.

"Who said anything about being fair?! You just jumped to conclusions without asking about my feelings!"

"I still don't think we belong together. We're on completely different levels."

"CHICKENS IN PANTS!" he screeched as his grip on you tightened.

"What??"

"You heard me. Chickens in pants... They're not meant to be together, but they exist anyhow and they look really good together in my opinion. So if you feel that way about not being "meant for me" then think of use like that! But for your information: I actually really like simple girls! I really, really like them a lot! I like you too, idiot! I like you a lot! You're not interested in how 'cool' I am and I couldn't care less about anything flashy. I need a break from that lifestyle. You're just that for me. Please accept my feelings."

He nuzzled the back of your neck. You felt the trail of hot tears running down his cheeks.

"Pfttt. Okay. I accept. On one condition though: I'm the chicken. I don't want to be the pants," you laughed.

"Deal. Let’s head back to the café. The rain isn’t going to clear any time soon. We might catch colds.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” you hummed as you intertwined your fingers with his.

“You know, this could have been way easier if you just told me that you were my soulmate from the get-go,” Cater exasperated.

“I don’t like the idea of soulmates. I think you’ve heard me say it a thousand times before. I don’t think ‘the one’ exists at all. I feel that nobody should be projecting their fantasies onto their lover and expect said person to fulfill that ideal. I was a hypocrite though because I ended up assuming your type and who you would like. I apologize for that.”

“Ahhh so formal! So deep! I never thought about it that way. And..  I’m sorry for giving you mixed signals too.”

“They weren’t that mixed. I just felt like you wanted a girlfriend who had the same aesthetic you had.”

“Those signals were definitely mixed. I… grew up in a place, a really well off place where even the streets shimmered. It was so sparkly. I also had two sisters so I ended up taking a liking to cute things and such. Turns out that in middle school and beyond don’t like pretty boys from sparkly places who like cute things. I’ve been hiding behind something myself. I’m actually not that cool, you know, especially for hiding behind this cheerful persona.”

“I guess we’re both in the wrong now.”

“But since, we’re chickens in pants, we can do anything together!”

“Oh my god, Cater, no!”

“Yes!”

“I already have my work cut out for me already… Oh! We’re here, let’s dry up. Wait? Did you really leave the shop unattended just to chase after me?”

“I forgot about that, oops!” he shrugged.

“Well, your managers aren’t here so it should be alright.”

“Wait! Before we go in, I want to take a picture.”

“Cater, we’re soaking wet and it’s still raining.”

“Just for a second, okay?”

“Ugh. Fine.”

“Say ‘soulmates’!”

“Soulmates…” you rolled your eyes.

“Cute. Caption: I finally found her. Oh and for the tags– hashtag: soulmates, hashtag: chickens-in-pants, hashtag: rainy-day-kisses andddd posted!”

“Wait. Chickens in pants?”

“That’s our new shtick now!” he winked, kissing your cheek and opening the café’s door.

It was then and there you finally let all of your emotions out in the form of a hyena’s laugh.

It was then and there you finally let all of your emotions out in the form of a hyena’s laugh. The real Cater was quite dorky. You were hoping to get to know him more and in turn, he did the same for you.

Because for you, there are no such things as soulmates or “the one”, it was just a person who would walk alongside you. And that person, as fate would have it, was Cater and he was the only one for you.

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

Hi Jan🖤 For the 900 follower event, can I request a Horror piece with Tendou. Quote 13 please in written format👉🏻👈🏻

Thanks love 🥺

TW: Murder & Possessiveness! 

Children are taught at a young age to ridicule those who do not fit into the quixotic mold designed by society. It has become a checklist of sorts, and if one box remains empty – it is as if the entire person is flawed. Those who adorn facial features that do not conform to the idealistic beauty standards are ostracized – shamed for not meeting the unrealistic standards bestowed upon them at birth. The bullied are taught to despise themselves – and it is that self hatred that blooms into something quite terrible.

You see, people are not born monsters – they are merely products of their environment. And so, the innocent blood that is shed by the supposed ‘monsters’ cannot be attributed to a single person, no. Responsibility should be ascribed to those who have created the monster – not the monster itself.

It was your overwhelming hatred towards society that drew you to the ‘guess monster’ at Shiratorizawa Academy. Tendou Satori, both adored and despised by his colleagues, was under the impression that he was the monster that mothers warned their children about. To others his features were ghastly – repulsive even. But to you… he was the closest thing to an angel. Your interest in the volleyball player increased the more you observed him, but what you craved from him was conversation… to taste his lips… and to claim him as your own. Love gnawed at your heart every time he slipped away from your vision. You wanted him so damn badly and yet you could not approach him. Not as you were.

Despite your incompatibility with the male, one day you were overcome by the need to destroy the distance that existed between you. In an impulsive move, you approached the red head during lunch, refusing to allow another minute to be wasted.

“Hello Satori.” The greeting was purred out seductively as you trailed your fingers down the fabric of your skirt, pretending to smooth out any wrinkles.

“Oh hi!” Astonishment crossed his visage when he realized who was addressing him. He could barely believe that the most popular girl in school was here – at his locker, speaking with him. It was almost too good to be true. Was he being pranked? A cautious glance was then tossed over his shoulder, he expected to discover a camera man or some snickering females. But there was no one. “How can I help you?” The question was filled with cheer, and the way his eyebrows raised with his smile twisted a knot in your stomach.

He was smiling at you…just for you.

“Go out with me.” The command fell from your plush lips before you could second guess yourself. Confidence shimmered in your eyes as you rocked yourself onto your toes. The action granted you additional height, limiting the distance between your face and his.

There was no way he would reject you, right?

“Are you sure you want to go out with me?” A bandaged finger was pointed at his chest, adding to the inquiry. He must have misheard you. Maybe you wanted him to help you with Wakatoshi? That would make far more sense.

“Yes, why else would I go out of my way to see you, my sweet Satori? You’ve had my attention for awhile now. I was just too shy to approach you.” You elected to articulate the explanation slowly, with additional emphasis on his name.

The middle blocker found himself entranced by your voice, and the flirtatious bat of your lashes had banished the concerns he held originally when you approached him. The poor soul, so desperate for love… he should have been more cautious. He should have sensed the danger that would come packaged in a relationship with you.

But he didn’t. At least, not until it was too late.

The beginning of your relationship with Tendou was filled with exploration. Your desires were poured out in one stroke, and he complied with your every request. Within weeks you were exposed to everything precious to him – to his weaknesses and strengths. The more you learned, the greedier you became. He consumed your every thought, and soon love became intertwined with obsession.

Now, you could handle his commitment to volleyball. In fact, you altered your own schedule to match with his – attending every game and practice. Watching your boyfriend destroy the confidence of the opposing team flooded you in exhilaration. You derived the strangest pleasure each time he successfully blocked the opposition. Maybe it was merely happiness that increased your heartrate. Or maybe it was something else all together.

It was months into your relationship when you realized his love for you would not match yours – no, not as you were. Luckily enough, an opportunity presented itself to you. The arrival of a new student served as the answer to your prayer. A beautiful first year student who supposedly found interest in your beloved boyfriend.

“Oh, you have received another love letter, my darling? How popular you have become.” The bitterness hanging onto your tongue was disguised as humour. Adding to your façade, you gently skid your fingers across his cheek.

“Yeah! I guess so.” Scratching his head, the red head furrowed his brows at the envelope in his grasp. “I just throw them out usually. But they keep on comin’.” He lifted his shoulders into a shrug, aiming to showcase his indifference towards his secret admirer. He knew how jealous you could become and was hoping to lessen your insecurity. Not that it worked.

“Mhmm. Aren’t I ever so lucky to have you all to myself?” Capturing his cheeks on either side with your fingers, you guided his face to yours, to apply a rough kiss to his mouth.

You didn’t blame him at all for your insecurity, it was your fault. Love requires change, and you have stayed the same. The problem wasn’t him; it was you.

When Tendou received a message to meet you outside after dark, he presumed you were in need of some affection and was eager to satisfy you. However, the location point for your meeting plagued him with concern. It was ten at night – why the hell were you at a graveyard?

It took him fifteen minutes to reach the destination, and an additional five to find you inside the cemetery. From his original position he could only make out your figure from behind, but as he proceeded closer, his heart sunk into his stomach.

“Hi babe. Are you doin’ okay?” The tremors in his voice matched the fear alarming inside of his head.

Excitement bubbled to life inside of your core as you spun around to greet your boyfriend. The sight was enough to bring the volleyball player to his knees, though a smile remained etched into his features. Paralyzed, Tendou stared at his girlfriend, wondering how he got it so damn wrong.

“Peachy, honey. I am peachy.” Blood decorated the blade within your grasp and laying at your feet was a limp body. The messy coils of the lifeless body were drenched in crimson.

It almost looked like paint.

The thought brought a hysterical whimper to sound within his throat.

How strange that he spent his entire life under the impression that he was the monster written about in fairytales. Little did the world know that monsters did not look like him. No, the true monsters were dressed in plain clothes, with angelic features that could fool God himself.

“Baby, I’ve changed for you. Don’t you see? You’re no longer alone. We’re both monsters.” Tossing the weapon aside casually, you stepped closer to him before kneeling down to capture his hands in yours.

“I don’t understand…” A pained smile stretched across his mouth as his eyes dropped to the sticky substance now transferring to his skin. Deranged in your own illusions, you found his expression to be quite elegant under the moon’s blessing.

“You finally see me, my love. Ah. It feels so good to be seen.” Streams of liquid flushed your cheeks. The adrenaline pumping through your veins had placed you on a high that you could not get enough of.

“You’ll never be alone now, my sweet Satori. It’s you and me forever.”

A/N: cliffhanger because I want ya’ll to feel uncomfy LMAO Hope you liked this though! 

General taglist:  @haikyuufairy @newfriendjen @lvoejimin @moonlightaangel @gyozaaaaa @byun-nies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @graykageyama @bloody-bella @amberalisa @yourstarvic @swoonhui @rajablast @chocolaterumble

[freddiesaysalright]

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes - Chapter 5

Gwilym!Prince Charming x Reader

Summary: After losing your parents, your step-family makes your life impossible. That is, until Prince Gwilym holds a ball. It’s your one chance for everything to change.

Word Count: 4.1k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @im-an-adult-ish, @queen-paladin, @rogerina-owns-me, @mirkwoodshewolf, @namelesslosers, @headl0ng, @captvianswaan, @folietracksix​, @baltimoresweethearts​, @killer-queen-87​, @haileymoreolikestupid, @itsametaphorgwil​, @misslolasworld​, @whitequeen-ofwillowgreen​

A/N: It’s the grand finale! Thank you again for all the lovely responses to this fic! I can’t believe I’m almost done with the Disney AUs already! also i barely proofread this because i was so excited to post it so if you see a typo no you didnt

Warning(s): brief descriptions of abuse

Moodboard

Prologue  Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4

Chapter 5 here we go!!!

Frank and his daughters came home about an hour after you did. You were already back in your servant clothes and waiting by the door. You took their cloaks and bags, and began hanging them on the rack in the main hall. 

“How was your night?” you asked politely. 

“It was a splendid evening, Y/N,” Frank answered. “More than you could ever hope for.”

“I’m sure it was,” you returned, holding back a smirk. If only he knew. 

“I’m relieved to see you have not stolen anything else from my wife’s closet,” he sneered.

You shook your head. “No, sir. I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ve been thoroughly educated.”

“Very good,” he said, seeming displeased that he couldn’t goad you. 

But nothing could spoil this night. It was perfect. 

“Is there anything you need before going to bed?” you asked. 

“I’m fine, but you’ll of course help the girls get changed,” he said. 

You nodded again. “Absolutely.”

He watched you suspiciously as you followed your step sisters up the stairs. You were calm. Too calm. And you were humming, which you didn’t normally do. Plus the tune was something he had heard somewhere - but no event would have had you in attendance. His frown deepened. Something was up.

***

Gwilym returned to the palace two hours later, empty handed and broken-hearted. Rami and Ben were waiting on the steps for him, but as he walked up, he only shook his head. They sighed, disappointed for their friend. Thankfully, the remaining guests had all gone home. 

“Sorry, mate,” Ben said. 

“There was no sign of her?” Rami asked. 

“No,” Gwilym said. “Even the carriage tracks just seemed to disappear. It was like she just vanished.”

“So, all we’ve got to go on is the shoe?” Ben wondered, holding it up. 

Gwilym had only entrusted his best friends with it, and they had kept it from his father. 

“It’s made of glass,” Gwilym said. “Which means it only fits her.”

“So what are we gonna do?” Rami asked. “Try the shoe on every woman in the kingdom?”

“Only the single women,” Gwilym said, as if it were obvious.

Rami and Ben shared a surprised look. 

“I hope you’re joking,” Ben said. 

“Far from it,” Gwilym replied. “I’m going to find that girl, and I’m going to marry her.”

Rami sighed. “Very well, then. But let’s start in the morning.”

“Thank you both,” Gwilym said, relieved. They had every reason to leave now. Both had duties at home, and had done what was socially expected. With the ball over, there was no obligation to stay. “Really.”

“Of course we’re gonna help you,” Ben said. “But I’m with Rami. Starting tomorrow.”

“You guys go on up, I’ll be right behind you,” Gwilym insisted. 

His friends shrugged, but did as he requested and went inside. Gwilym remained, holding that glass piece of you carefully in the crook of his arm. He looked out into the night sky, hoping somehow you could feel his desperation. 

“I am coming for you, my darling,” he said quietly. 

***

You yawned as the sun peered into your room through your curtains. You were feeling unusually light this morning. Like you were still floating just above the ballroom floor. With a contented sigh, you stretched and forced yourself out of bed. Frank and the girls would be needing their breakfast soon, but you knew you had a little extra time today. They’d certainly have a bit of a lie in after the late night. 

You threw your dress and apron on. You did a spin around your room, giggling as you imagined Gwilym there with you. Then you had to slow to a stop. It was a fantasy, nothing more. One glorious night. But now it was time to return to reality and your true life. Still, you could cling to the dream for one morning.

Humming to yourself, you put the pot on to boil and began prepping plates for breakfast. You set a pan atop the stove to start some sausages when you heard the jingle of a bell. You looked at the wall. It was coming from Eleanor’s room, so you guessed she was up. You asked Elsie to start the food and went back upstairs to get your step sister dressed. When you reached the landing, you saw Frank emerging from his room, already dressed. 

“Good morning,” you said kindly. 

“Y/N, what did you get up to last night?” he asked. 

“Why, nothing, sir,” you said. “I cleaned up, as you instructed, changed clothes, and got a head start on some other chores. When those were done, I occupied myself by reading.”

He seemed skeptical. “I see. I hope you weren’t reading anything too fanciful. You mustn’t fill your mind with...unrealistic dreams and fantasies.”

Your brow furrowed with confusion. What was he implying?

“No, sir,” you said. “I try to keep everything practical.”

“Good,” he said. “Now get to work.”

You nodded, a bit perplexed, but continued into Eleanor’s room.

***

In the morning, Gwilym was the first up. He hardly slept at all. He wrote a decree for his father to send out, that he and Ben and Rami would be making the rounds through town and the countryside to find the owner of the missing shoe. They would begin today, and search until the prince had found his lost love.

To his shock, the king agreed to this. He read over it at the breakfast table, nodding at each point. The ladies were to try on the shoe and if it fit, it must be the girl who Gwilym met at the ball.

“Very well,” he said. “You’ll begin today?”

“Yes,” Gwilym said. “I want to find her as soon as possible.”

“Alright, son,” the king replied. He looked at the prince and offered a sincere smile. “And best of luck.”

Gwilym beamed. “Thank you, Father!”

And so, they began their search within the palace, where the out of town noble guests were staying. Gwilym had his doubts about those girls because he met them before you even came through the door. But he knew everyone deserved a fair chance. When the shoe fit none of those women, they made their way into town, with a few guards along for protection. 

***

Frank received a letter from the palace early in the morning. He looked it over and you saw a flash of...something cross his face. You couldn’t place the emotion though. It seemed almost like a glimmer of hope. His eyes glanced over at you before quickly turning to his daughters. 

“Girls, get yourselves looking nice,” he said. “We’ll be having visitors from the palace this afternoon.”

“The palace?” you questioned, without meaning to, but you could hardly help yourself. 

“Yes, but that isn’t any of your business, Y/N,” he snapped. “Get my daughters ready and then proceed with your chores as usual. You are not to make your presence known while the visitors are here.”

You nodded apologetically. As you made your way back to the kitchen, you wondered if the visitors Frank referred to could be Gwilym and his father. Was he looking for you? Something in your heart told you he was, but you hardly even dared to hope. Such a thing was the stuff of dreams. And yet, the ball seemed like a dream too, but it was as real as the tea kettle you carried. You began devising a plan. 

As the day wore on, you completed your chores quickly. You wanted to prepare yourself as well. Your gut was telling you Gwilym was on his way to take you away from here. And you had all the proof you needed in that slipper that was hidden beneath your bed. So when you finished sweeping the entrance hall, you ran up to your room to get it. Only, when you opened your door, you came to an abrupt stop. Frank was sitting on your bed, holding the slipper by the heel. One wrong move of his fingers and it would fall, risking a break. 

“Well, well, well,” he said darkly. “I had a feeling you had made your way to the ball. You’ve been far too dreamy to have had as dull a night as you claim.”

Your heart rate quickened. 

“That’s mine,” you said, feeling childish as the words left your mouth. “It was given to me.”

Frank laughed humorlessly. “Oh, likely story. I suppose this is another one of my wife’s things you stole.”

“You cannot stop me from this,” you said, ignoring the accusation. “The prince loves me.”

“Against his better judgement, I believe that’s true,” he admitted.

You blinked, surprised at your step father’s nonchalance about this. Did that mean he would accept it? No. There had to be something else he was getting at. 

“As it is, though,” he said. “You’re spoken for.”

You frowned as your stomach dropped. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked. 

“You’re mine, Y/N,” he said, getting to his feet and straightening his jacket with his free hand. “And mine alone.”

A chill ran down your spine. Was he really saying what you thought he was saying?

“I’m not a slave, Frank,” you said. “I am free to do this.”

“I do not intend to make you my slave,” he said. “I intend to make you my wife.”

Your body went rigid as the blood ran out of your face. The very idea made your stomach churn. The thought of being his wife, sharing his bed, bearing his children...you nearly heaved right there in front of him.

“No,” you said firmly. “I won’t.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” he said. 

“It’s sick!” you cried. “I’m your daughter!”

“Step daughter,” he said. “I will have this estate, Y/N. You will do for me what your mother could not. My son will be the true and rightful heir, and start a new line.”

“Are you not happy with the children you have?” you wondered, completely rocked to your core. “Why do you insist on a son?”

“Sons are the only useful offspring,” he scoffed. “Daughters are just mouths to feed until you can marry them off, and even then, what’s theirs will never belong to their family. It belongs to their husbands. Well, I am not going to lose everything because my previous wives were too weak to give me what I want.”

“I will not,” you refused again. “I’ll run away.”

“And leave behind your home?” he taunted. “The one your father built so lovingly with your mother?”

“It will no longer be a home to me if I am trapped in such a marriage,” you said. 

“I’m not giving you a choice, Y/N,” he sighed. “I’ll keep eyes on you everywhere, I’ll lock you in your room, whatever it takes. Or, you can submit to me now and become mistress of this house as you were born to be.”

“I’ll die before I marry you,” you spat. “I’ll die before I bear any child of yours. I’ll -”

“No need to go on,” he said. He was being alarmingly calm about this. “I know the rest. But you will marry me, Y/N. You will have my son, and you’ll do it all without complaint. Just as you have with everything I have ever given you.”

You blinked again. So everything he’d put you through was a test? A way to manipulate you into obeying his every command? He was...grooming you? Your stomach gave another lurch.

“But first,” he said. “We will need to squash your dreams of Prince Gwilym.”

“What do you -”

He cut off your question by hurling your slipper into the wall. It shattered with a crash, which drowned out your anguished cry. You sank to your knees, hopeless. 

“There now,” he said. “I’m only teaching you the harsh lesson of reality.” 

Tears fell freely down your cheeks. You heard loud knocking at the front door, but barely registered it. 

“That’ll be him,” Frank said. 

You snapped to your senses and started to rise for one last desperate escape attempt, but Frank was faster. You felt the blow of his palm against your cheek before you even saw it coming. You fell to the ground, face throbbing. You wanted to scream, or cry, or swing back at him, but you were completely numb from the shock. You couldn’t feel anything but the sting on your skin.

“Do not resist me again, Y/N,” Frank warned. 

With that, he walked out of your room, and you heard him turn the lock. You were trapped. You curled into a ball on your floor and wept quietly. 

***

Gwilym was relieved when the door finally opened. This was the last house of the day. He saw a man there, whose smile was...unconvincing to say the least. He bowed. 

“We are happy to see you, Prince Gwilym,” he said. “I am Frank Tarleton, and I believe one of my daughters is the girl you’re searching for.”

Gwilym raised a brow. “But you don’t know which?”

Frank blinked, taken aback, and then laughed an empty sort of laugh. “Good one, your highness. Please, come in.”

Gwilym looked at Ben and Rami who both shrugged. They followed Frank inside and into the drawing room, where two young women sat on the couch, looking nervous. Ben explained everything, with Frank nodding eagerly along. Something about the man struck Gwilym as slimy. He was too polite, too eager to please, and it seemed even his own daughters were made uncomfortable by him. Gwilym sighed. 

“Let’s get this over with,” he mumbled. 

He was beginning to lose hope. Who was left, if not these girls? And yet, neither of them struck him as the one he was looking for.

***

You listened carefully at your door, not daring to make any more noise. If Frank returned, he might do worse than strike you. But you could listen to what was happening downstairs. 

It was a bit maddening to hear, though. To be so close to Gwilym now, and yet so far. To be a prisoner now in your own home was worse than being a servant. And the worst part was seeing the proof of your identity lying in pieces beside you. You felt like the slipper. Broken. Completely in pieces. Like your dreams too. 

You heard the front door open and close again. You went to your window and watched Gwilym mount his horse, his friends on either side of him, and trot away toward town. Was that truly the last time you would see your love?

It couldn’t be. Now, you could hear Frank’s familiar footsteps coming back up the stairs. You knew you had to make a break for it as soon as he opened the door. You braced yourself. You had no time to pack anything, no time to grab money or valuables. You would have to break away with nothing but the clothes on your back and a prayer. 

You watched the doorknob turn, feeling as if everything was in slow motion. It creaked slowly open and Frank’s body appeared in the door frame. He reached for you, but you ducked under his arm, darted down the hall, flew down the stairs, and straight out the front door. 

You ran. As fast as your legs could carry you, not even daring to look back to see if Frank was in pursuit. You just hurtled toward town, hoping that anyone could help you. You would give up your home, and everything you knew - you would even give up your life - before marrying Frank. You had to escape, even if it meant becoming a beggar. 

You burst through the back door of the tavern, tears streaming down your cheeks, and chest heaving. Flying through the kitchen, you threw open the doors to the dining area and found Zelda behind the bar. She looked up at the commotion you were making, took in the sight of you, and her brow furrowed. 

“Zelda, please!” you cried, frantic. “I need help!”

You went to her, and she took you in her arms. 

“Y/N, what’s -”

She didn’t get to finish her question before Frank came barreling through. He must not have been far behind. You let out a scream. Zelda pushed you behind her and you cowered at her back. She put her arms out to shield you further. 

“Zelda, remove yourself if you know what’s good for you,” Frank threatened. 

“Don’t, Zelda, please!” you begged. “Don’t let him take me! He’s going to force me to marry him! Please!”

She stiffened in front of you. “Oh, no you don’t, Frank. I will not stand by and let you do this.”

“Stand back or you’re fired,” he warned. 

“I don’t care,” she shot back. “I won’t let you have her!”

“I’m afraid it’s not up to you,” he returned harshly. 

He grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to move her, but Zelda was a stout woman with considerable strength. She resisted him, taking hold of his biceps and forcing him back several steps. Her advantage was clearly gained by the element of surprise. 

“Run, Y/N!” she cried. “Get out of here!” 

Panicked, you leapt over the counter and wrenched the door open. You threw yourself out of it, trying to ignore the sounds of the struggle behind you. You darted into the street and sprinted as fast as you could away from the tavern. You had no idea where you would go from here - but you could not stay and be forced into a lifetime of Frank. 

You glanced back. To your horror, you saw that Frank was emerging from the tavern and had spotted you right away. With a gasp, you turned back around and sped up. Only, as you turned, you didn’t realize what was in front of you. You ran right smack into a man’s back. The force of the collision put you on your rear in the dirt. 

Wincing, you looked up. Your jaw dropped. It was Gwilym!

He met your gaze and froze as well. For a moment, you were both back at the ball, when he’d come up to you on the stairs and asked you to dance. He recognized you instantly. 

“It’s you,” he whispered. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but a sudden stinging on your scalp caused you to cry out instead. Frank had fisted his hand around your hair and dragged you to your feet. 

“Your highness!” he gasped, noticing Gwilym. “I do apologize. My servant here has forgotten her manners.” He looked at you and continued through gritted teeth. “And her place.”

He yanked your hair on the last word for extra emphasis. Gwilym’s chest tightened as he watched Frank manhandle you. He briefly imagined himself drawing his sword and plunging it right into Frank’s chest, but he refrained. 

“Release her,” he ordered. 

Frank looked at the prince, bewildered. 

“I’m sorry?” he questioned.

Gwilym’s expression darkened. “I told you to release her.”

Frank hesitated. 

“Now!” Gwilym shouted. 

You relaxed when Frank finally let go. Your scalp still itched with soreness. You desperately wanted to throw yourself into Gwilym’s arms but you were still afraid of what Frank might do. You did take a cautious step back. 

“Your highness, I’m dealing with an unruly servant girl,” Frank said. “But she is mine and I may do with her as I please.”

Your lip trembled and you shook your head. 

“That’s not true,” you sobbed. “You know it’s not, I’m your step daughter and you’re forcing me to -”

“SILENCE!” Frank roared, and raised his hand.

You shrieked and covered your face with your arms. But the blow didn’t come. You peeked out, lowering your shield just barely. Gwilym had taken hold of Frank’s wrist. Rami and Ben, who you just noticed being present, both had their hands on their swords. Now was your chance. 

“Don’t let him take me back,” you begged again. “Please, your highness, don’t let him.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Zelda trotting up the street. She halted when she took in the scene before her. 

“Sir Tarleton,” Gwilym said, releasing Frank’s arm. “We were at your home and I asked you if you had any more women residing there besides your daughters. You lied.”

“It wasn’t a lie, really,” Frank argued. “Just an omission. You see, there’s no way this girl was at the ball when I forbid her from going.”

“If that’s true, then you are still in trouble,” Gwilym said. “All eligible maidens were to attend.”

“She’s only a servant -”

“I know you’re lying, Tarleton,” Gwilym interrupted. “Now stand down.”

Frank stepped away from the prince, shooting glances between him and you. Gwilym turned to Ben.

“The slipper please, Ben,” he said. 

“No!” Frank protested, starting toward you, but Rami stopped him.

Ben handed Gwilym the slipped you’d left behind on the staircase. You wiped your cheeks, clearing away the dirt and tears, and held your prince’s gaze. You smiled at him.

“I knew you were the girl from the tavern,” he said gently. “I knew I recognized you.”

“And the cemetery,” you reminded him.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “I remember.”

“How did someone like you even notice someone like me?” you wondered, amazed. 

“Because you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” he told you simply. “Inside and out. And from that moment in the cemetery I saw what you truly are - a princess.”

You flushed, looking bashfully at the ground. 

“I’m not really a -”

“Maybe not by birth,” he said. “But in heart.”

You met his eyes again. Those eyes that from the first time you saw them, told you the kindness of this man’s soul. 

He knelt down onto one knee, holding out the slipper. It made you ache for the lost one Frank smashed, but you were relieved that you had left one behind at the palace. You toed off your boot and raised your leg. Ben stepped closer to help you balance and you shot him a grateful look. Then, you slid your delicate foot into the glass slipper. It fit perfectly. 

Gwilym’s face lit up like a firework. Ben let go of your hand as Gwilym laughed, took you up in his arms and spun you around. You giggled with joy as well. He lowered you gently to the ground.

“Now, will you please tell me your name?” he asked. 

You chuckled. “It’s Y/N.” 

“Y/N,” he repeated, and cupped your cheek in his palm. “How beautiful.”

“No!” Frank shouted again, and this time Rami had to grab him to stop him. “No! You cannot take her from me!”

“The girl does not belong to you,” Gwilym said sternly. He turned and faced Frank. “I see very clearly now that you have been mistreating her. She is free to choose whatever she likes.”

“I’m her father!” Frank insisted. 

“Step father,” you said. Then you looked up at Gwilym. “I choose you, my love.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” he replied. “Sir Tarleton, you’ll be taken into custody.”

Frank’s eyes went wide as the guards moved to take him from Rami. They clapped iron rings around his wrists. He seemed too shocked to struggle. 

“Take him to the dungeon to await trial for his crimes,” Gwilym instructed. He faced you again. “And you, my darling, may come with me to the palace.”

“For how long?” you wondered. 

“Forever, if you wish it,” he assured you. 

“I could hardly wish for more,” you said happily. 

He took your hand and helped you onto his horse. Together, you headed for safety, and building a life together. In true love.

***

You and Gwilym married as soon as possible. The whole kingdom was thrilled at the wedding. Frank was tried and convicted for his abuse, but would not serve a life sentence, so instead of prison, he was banished from the kingdom. Even so, early in your marriage to Gwilym, you frequently had nightmares where your stepfather returned. 

Gwilym was as loving and patient a partner as you could hope for. He let you talk through your trauma, and he made sure to never do anything that caused you fear. His support helped you to truly heal. 

Your step sisters had to move from the estate, which was now yours entirely. Eleanor and Miranda were surprisingly happy to take over their father’s first business, the tavern, which they ran successfully with Zelda. They both eventually found merchant husbands and lived peacefully, and you were genuinely happy for them.  

But the greatest joy Gwilym ever gave you was your children. You had two boys and two girls, and they were the light of the whole kingdom’s eye - but especially the king, who lived a long and healthy life with his grandchildren. You had no other description for your life besides happily ever after.

[eryiss]

Chapter One - The House

Summary: Freed and Laxus live incredibly different lives. Freed is a corporate lawyer in the capital city, and Laxus works as a handyman in a countryside hotel. Despite their differences, their lives collide when Freed inherits a house in Laxus’ village, and hires him to make the derelict building liveable. But the closer they get, the more they seem to offer each other. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as my admission for Fraxus Day 2020, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus​. It ended up becoming a multi-chapter, and I thought the first chapter should go up today, as a holloween gift. The next one will be published on thursday, and will continue on weekly.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter One – The House

Freed hadn't expected his mother's death to be so tedious.

He should probably feel more emotional about it. He and his mother had no ill-will towards one another – there was no tragic secret nor history of arguing or abuse between them – but he found himself oddly unbothered by hearing of her death. Not a numbness of any kind either, he felt very much the same as if a colleague had told him their mother had passed. It was just an event that had happened, and something that affected his life, but not his emotions.

His apathy probably came from the fact he and his mother hadn't spoken for years. Again, not for any great reason, just because they didn't. He and his father had always been closer, and when he had died four years prior, Freed had grieved and got over it as best a person can. His mother was the worker of the family, and thus the emotional relationship hadn't been as strong. Neither had made an effort to connect in their adulthood, only really linked by his father. And so once he had passed, there wasn't really any reason to speak. Neither person was overly emotional, so they didn't seek comfort in one another's arms, and instead just drifted off.

And so, the death of his mother was tedious.

Death was followed by a lot of things. The need to plan a funeral, people being completely unaware of how to act around him, and an odd amount of pity coming from people who didn't know him at all. Freed was something of a pragmatist, and as such it became an experience he didn't want to repeat. At least with the death of his father, he'd had his sadness to distract him. But this was just, well… tedious.

Perhaps the worse thing to have happened occurred two days prior. As was customary after someone passes, there was a reading of the will. A pointless exercise for this instance, given Freed had literally inherited everything. Freed knew this already – he was his family's lawyer for god's sake, he drafted the damned thing – but he still had to attend the reading. So, for an hour in a busy work week, he was forced to travel down two floors in his building, and sit there while another lawyer – Natsu Dragneel, who had actually interned under Freed for a year – explained the law and what the will meant. To the man who had taught him it!

Further adding to the annoyance of the situation, almost everything he'd inherited had strings attached. There was a lot of debt, from both loans and gambling, apparently. Freed's credit score was going to take a hit, given how much there was. There were also her belongings, which he would have to look through at some point. She also apparently owned property, which was now his.

This would be good, had it not been for its location. Freed's life was centred in the city, this house was in the middle of the countryside, miles from what Freed considered civilisation. Why she had owned a house there was beyond Freed, she was more metropolitan than him; she lived in Era and Era alone. But unfortunately, now it was his.

So now, he was nearing the end of a three-and-a-half-hour train ride.

He was going to sell the place, of course. Why his mother hadn't done so confused Freed, given her debts. Property values were high in this area, many rich older people wanted to retire there, and a three-bedroom cottage was perfect for that. But he needed to see it, speak with estate agents, and sign away the rights. All in all, tedious.

When he got off the train, he was hit by how different it was to Era. It was open, the air smelt different and it looked like an illustration from a Victorian romance novel. All very idyllic, but Freed had no intention of staying long enough to appreciate it. Instead, he located the taxi service, and ordered a car to his new property.

Apparently Uber hadn't arrived there yet.

The car came soon enough, and after a few failed attempts to illicit more than a curt answer from Freed, it was a quiet ride. It took about forty minutes, and Freed watched as fields passed by, the atmosphere dampened by the scent of manure filling the air. People raved about the fresh air in the countryside, but Freed much preferred the smell of petrol and faint piss of Era to literal crap. Better the devil you know.

Thankfully, the smell of muck spreading was interrupted when his phone lit up. He glanced at the contact name – 'Estate Agent' – before lifting it to his ear and accepting the call. He needed an evaluation for the property, and apparently this man was the best in the area. Hopefully the fastest too.

"Mr Clive," He greeted, leaning back.

"Mr Justine," The estate agent replied in a more jovial tone. "Just to let you know, I'm at the property and waiting for you. There's been a few evaluations over the years and they're all pretty similar, so it shouldn't take long."

"Thank you," Freed nodded to himself, glancing past the front seat to see the GPS saying they should be at their destination in about five minutes. "I'll be there soon."

"Great," Gildarts' grin was audible in his tone. "Sorry that you had to come down here to deal all of this."

"It's not your fault," Freed said placatingly, though not honestly. "The sooner it's done, the better."

"Couldn't agree more," Gildarts grinned.

"Why had it been evaluated before?" Freed asked, brows furrowing slightly.

"Apparently your mother has tried to sell it a few times. Twice with independent online stores, and once with an estate agent. Clearly it didn't go well," The man laughed. "But we'll be more successful. We know what we're doing."

After some pointless pleasantries, the call was ended. Freed found himself frowning; a cottage in this area should have been sold without any difficulty. The fact this one hadn't, despite its perfect position and seemingly positive qualities, didn't bode well. He tried to be optimistic, but at this point, it was almost certain that even selling the house would further add to his annoyances.

It was ten minutes later – it took longer than expected because he got caught up in traffic caused by a heard of cows crossing from one field to the other, followed by an uncaring farmer who glared at the taxi as if it were an affront to his lifestyle – when he saw the house.

It was clear as to why his mother couldn't sell it.

The place was practically derelict. In its prime it would have been the ideal village cottage, with white walls and a slated roof. It would have had a garden filled with perfectly trimmed flowers, a large but well-groomed oak tree, and most likely a cliché dog running around. Unfortunately, the house's prime was clearly centuries ago because it embodied the world decapitated in a way Freed had never seen. The roof was falling apart, the garden filled with so many overgrown plants nothing else could be seen, and a window was hanging out of the wall. It was unliveable, and practically unlovable.

Perfect. His mother had left him debt, three wardrobes filled with wrinkled clothes, and a building nobody could use without a death wish. Now his hopes of selling the place was unrealistic.

As he approached the building, a man made his presence known by leaving a car with a smile on his face. He was older than Freed, in his late forties if Freed was being kind, and he gave a polite 'Hello' as he approached. It was clearly the estate agent, who was showing a lot more optimism than Freed felt at that moment.

"Mr Justine, nice to meet you in person," He greeted.

"Likewise," Freed nodded, though his tone didn't reflect the sentiment. Gildarts laughed.

"I can see from your face that you were expecting something a little… different," The man chuckled, and Freed found himself annoyed by the man's enthusiasm. "You probably thought it'd be a little more liveable, didn't ya?"

"Something like that," Freed agreed, looking at the building almost accusingly.

"Well if it's any kind of relief, the building's structure is actually very secure. I won't lie, there's probably hundreds of problems going on in there, but at least the roof isn't going to collapse on our heads," The agent laughed, and in any other situation it might be less grating. "I can explain the details as we look through it, I'm sure that you want to get this done quickly."

"If that's possible."

Gildarts nodded, then jogged back to his car. When he returned, he was holding two hardhats that one would see on a building site, and Freed looked at it warily. Gildarts smiled and patted him on the shoulder with an unneeded amount of strength.

"The roof itself won't fall, but there's always a chance that the ceiling tiles might, so we can't be too careful, can we?" He chuckled loudly, placing on his hat, and walking into the building. Freed, after a moment of hesitation, joined him.

~~~

"So, you're sayi-" A small scratch. "-basically unsellable."

Freed ground his teeth together slightly. He was pacing down a village high-street, holding his phone to his ear and trying his best to listen to Evergreen's stuttering voice. Apparently random country roads were perfectly fine with phone signals; but for the most built up area for miles, it was practically impossible to have a conversation without some kind of interference. It was something very quickly grating on his nerves.

"Essentially, yes," Freed sighed, sidestepping a couple walking towards him. "It's too run down for anyone to want to buy it. My estate agent said the best thing to do is to see if a property auction will take it and sell it cheap."

"Why don't you-" Another scratching sound. "-it down. Sell the land-" A quick, high pitched noise. "-farmer or property developer."

Freed's muscles tenses slightly at the suggestion. He had thought about that, but of course when he had told Gildarts that it was the logical course of action, the man had looked at him with something akin to pity in his eyes. He had then patted the man on the shoulder – again making Freed's body jerk slightly with the power behind the action – and added another layer of annoyance to this ridiculous situation.

"Apparently it's a listed building, and has some kind of historical preservation status," Freed sighed, slowing slightly when the buzzing on the phone went quiet. Hopefully, he had a stronger signal now. "Essentially meaning, the building has to stay."

"If it's so important, why did they let it get so run down?" Evergreen asked, voice clear now.

"They didn't, my mother has been receiving phone calls and letters from local council about it for years," Freed wiped at his eye with his free hand, deflating slightly. "Which I will now be getting, I suppose. Along with the letters and phone-calls from debt collectors, no doubt."

"How much would it sell for as it is?"

"Optimistically, 25 thousand. Since you can't make any modifications to the outer building, something in this state is hard to get customers for."

It wasn't anywhere near enough to cover his mother's debts, even when combined with the savings he was unwilling to give up. Though a successful corporate lawyer and having saved a substantial part of his earning for over ten years, Freed was by no means rich. His family came from money, but never gave any to him as they wished for him not to be spoiled. So far it hadn't mattered, but now with six figures of debt from nowhere, his comfortable life seemed unstable. This wasn't helped by the fact he only wanted to use his savings as a last resort; he'd saved this money for himself, not to give to online casinos because of his mother's apparent addiction.

"Couldn't you make it a bit more marketable," Evergreen suggested, and Freed found himself irrationally irritated by the chewing he heard. They were colleagues, and he knew that her lunch break wasn't for another hour. "Tidy it up slightly."

"It's not run down, it's unliveable," Freed grunted. "The windows are boarded up, the garden practically a jungle, bare floorboards, furniture that is practically rotting, and a bird had nested on the oven."

"Maybe plant some flowers and bake a cake when showing people around," Evergreen joked, and Freed almost laughed.

He couldn't resent his mother. He did love her, and perhaps if he had made some kind of effort in talking to her then maybe the debts wouldn't have happened because she could talk to him about her gambling. Of course that regret was pointless now, thinking about what he could have done wouldn't change anything. He just had to deal with the consequences.

"You'll figure something out," Evergreen spoke up again.

"I know," Freed nodded. "But I'm not quite sure exactly how, yet."

"Well, I've just checked, and there's a nice-looking hotel near you," Evergreen smiled, and Freed could hear the clicking of a computer mouse through his speakers. "All good reviews, apparently a brilliant kitchen and very nice staff."

"Good for them," Freed said with furrowed brows.

"I've booked you a room," Evergreen declared, clearly grinning. Freed went to speak but Ever went first. "You're staying there for a week. You can either spend it thinking what to do next with your house, or just have a nice break, which you're overdue. Climb one of the mountains or something. I'll have a suitcase sent down with everything you need."

"No," Freed said firmly.

"I don't believe I gave you a choice, dear," Evergreen smiled. "And I've already paid for it. If you stay, consider it a gift. And if you don't, you'll be in even more debt, and I'm much worse than any bailiff you can think of, and we share an office, so I will make your life miserable."

"You're both blackmailing and threatening me," Freed grunted. "I could technically sue you for workplace harassment."

"Yeah, but you're my lawyer so you'd have to argue with yourself," Evergreen laughed. "Which you could, you've got an ego big enough you probably crop up on those reddit pages about people who think they're really smart," Freed let out an indignant sound at that, and Ever just laughed. "Just take some time off, you know you have to have a week off eventually. Why not just do it now? Enjoy the countryside, smell the fresh air, read a book."

"I read constantly, the fresh air is laden with the scent of literal shit, and so far the countryside is a pointless expanse of green that makes me want to take on more cases against environmentalists."

"Oh stop feeling sorry for yourself," Evergreen laughed. "Find your hotel, get yourself a drink, and relax for a week."

After a second of consideration, and a deflated sigh, Freed spoke again. "What's the hotel called."

"Fairy Tail Inn," Evergreen read aloud. "Sounds a bit cliché, but the rooms look great and the reviews are all good. Should be at one end of the high street, at the top of the hill."

Freed looked back over his shoulder, he had walked past the hotel in his search for a reliable amount of signal. He hadn't paid it much attention, as it was at the start of the conversation and he'd been attempting to understand any of what Evergreen was saying, but it looked nice enough. The only real reason he had actually remembered the place was because he was fairly sure they had mistaken the two spellings of the word Tail. He started to walk back up the steep high-street, telling Evergreen that he knew where the place was.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it then," Evergreen smiled, and the buzzing on the phone returned slightly. "See you in a week. Oh, and text me a picture of the house when you're tetchy so I can make fun of you. Bye!"

She cut herself off before Freed could reply, and the lawyer rolled his eyes slightly.

When he reached the top of the hill, he walked through a quaint beer garden and into the Fairy Tail building. He was confronted with a small front desk, behind which a woman with a light bob smiled up at him. He walked towards her, scanning the name tag – Lisanna – before she gave a polite introduction to the hotel.

"Are you here to eat, or to stay sir?" She asked, voice enthusiastic and happy.

"To stay," Freed explained. "I believe my friend just made a reservation for me. Freed Justine."

"One moment," She smiled, leaning down, and typing on the computer.

As she worked, Freed glanced around the lobby area. From the outside, the building had been incredibly rustic looking, and Freed had feared slightly that it was going to be as old fashioned and outdated inside as well. But it was contemporary, clean, and relatively nice. It was clear that it was made to look farmhouse-ish while keeping all the needed amenities, making a distinction from the branded hotels while also keeping to a high quality.

They had a few certificates hung on the walls, mainly hotel awards from different companies. There was also something proclaiming 'MAGNOLIA: Village of the Year 2019' in proud prominence. Freed vaguely wondered if this was something all businesses got, or if Fairy Tail was some kind of hub for the town.

"There you are," Lisanna said suddenly, and Freed turned back to her. "Room 17. If you'd like to follow me, I'll take you there. I can carry your bags if you'd like."

"I don't have any bags with me, actually," Freed said, and Lisanna looked at the floor with a frown to confirm his words. "This is rather impromptu, I'm afraid. I'm having a suitcase sent down here, I expect it'll be here tomorrow."

"Oh, okay," Lisanna smiled, though Freed could clearly see she was somewhat confused. "What brings you to Magnolia, if you don't mind me asking? We don't get many people here in autumn, you're our only guest actually."

"It's not for pleasure," Freed explained. "I inherited some property, and selling it isn't as easy as I thought, so I'll be here for a little while."

"Is that the Albion House?" She asked as they turned a corner.

"Yes," Freed answered a little slowly.

"Oh, sorry, that probably sounds a bit creepy that I know it so fast," She laughed. "It's just that news sort of travelled about it getting a new owner. It's been run down for a while, and people thought that maybe the new person would try and renovate it. But if you want to sell it then that's your choice of course, I hope it goes better than it did with your mother-" She stopped talking, and clearly looked uncomfortable. "Oh, I'm sorry. For your loss, and for that."

"You don't need to do that," Freed waved her off. "I'm not going to start crying at the sound of her name."

She looked relieved at his reaction, and Freed tried not to show a small scowl on his face. The young woman hadn't done anything wrong, but the fact she knew both the house and the fact his mother had died meant that other people knew as well. He had hoped that, at least for one week, he wouldn't have to deal with people knowing about his bereavement. Apparently he wasn't even going to be given this.

"Is the house important for some reason?" Freed asked as they climbed the stairs. "It's got historical preservation, and you said people were interested when they found out I own it."

"Not exactly," Lisanna smiled. "I think all the buildings in the town have that status, they want to make it look like it did when it was made. Personally, I think they do it because the council makes a lot of money from film shoots coming here," She laughed a little. "And we're a fairly small community, so news gets around. They were the same when it got sold last time, actually. They thought it'd get renovated too."

"So my mother wasn't the reason it looks like it does, then?"

"I've never seen it in a better state," Lisanna shrugged, before pausing in thought. "I think there's a painting of what it used to look like in your room. That's a coincidence."

She laughed to herself before continuing to walk, Freed following her. They walked through a few more corridors and up another staircase before they stopped at the old looking door of one of the rooms. Lisanna pulled a key from her pocket and opened the door, revealing the room that was to be Freed's home for the rest of the week. Freed walked in after, and looked around.

It was a nice room, also designed to look like it belonged in a farm house while still being relatively luxurious. It was on the smaller side, clearly Evergreen hadn't wanted to spend too much if the single bed was telling, but nice enough. A private bathroom, TV, and area for making drinks. It was essentially everything one could want from a hotel room. Although the fact that the slanted roof above the bed was low did make Freed pause; he would have to make sure not to bang his head when he awoke.

His eyes fell to a painting on the wall. Sure enough, there was an illustration of the house he'd been inside, only in a much better state. It looked rather homely.

"It's nice, isn't it," Lisanna smiled. "I think that's why people want to see it renovated. Just because it's nice."

"Well, perhaps soon it will be," Freed mused. "I'll most likely have to sell it to a retail auction, they often attract people looking for cheap property to work on, or so my estate agent said. So perhaps that'll happen."

"You don't sound enthusiastic about the idea?"

"I was hoping for more than an auction house would be willing to pay, I must admit," Freed sighed, still looking at the painting. "It's a last resort, but I doubt I'll find a better offer over the next week."

"You could renovate it and sell it when you're done?" Lisanna suggested.

"My knowledge of property development extends to the legal side only," Freed chuckled to himself. "If I were to try and work on it, there's a good chance I'd set it alight. I expect that doesn't align with the preservations society's rules."

"I suppose not," Lisanna laughed. "I should get back to the desk and leave you alone. Breakfast is served from six until twelve, you get it included in the price of the room. And if your bags come I'll bring them up for you, or have my brother do it since he's working the desk tomorrow If there's anything else you need, just call reception," She smiled. "And we hope you enjoy your stay."

Freed watched her leave, before standing alone in the room and letting himself decompress for the first time since he arrived.

Peculiarly, he found his gaze land on the painting.