#I AM SO EXCITED TO PRESENT TO YOU: THE COLOUR OF OUR VOICES | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tomtenadia · 7 months

Text

Detours to you - ch 9

Good evening... I am here with a little present for those few readers who follow this fic. As I mentioned, the fluff has for now reach it's temporary end and we are having a bit of angst... Sorry....

Sunday evening finally came and Rowan was getting nervous. He and Maya had the greatest of the weekends. On Sunday afternoon they had gone to the aquarium and Rowan quickly realised that such places were much more fun with kids. His daughter had a limitless well of energy. She had dragged him in every possible corner of the venue and then asked for a second tour of the sharkies and squishies, her own way of calling jellyfishes and sharks.

They were now back at home. Aelin had texted him that she was on her way to him and Rowan had given her specific instructions to reach him. The GPS struggled to recognise his address when he had people over he had to write down specific directions to reach him. In addition, the last part to his house was not fully covered in tarmac and was easily missed in heavy snow conditions.

Aelin had already called him twice when she took the wrong turn down in the village. As on cue she called him again at the last point people struggled the most. She had taken the wrong turn and ended up on the path to his neighbour’s house.

“Ready to see mum again?”

Maya jumped in excitement and joined him on the door.

The headlights of her car finally appeared after the bend and he relaxed. He should have met her at her place. Aelin was not used to that road and to make it worse it was evening too.

“Whitethorn, I thought I was climbing on the Staghorns.”

“Mama!” Maya screamed and ran for her mother who hugged her fiercely “I missed you so much, baby.”

Rowan encouraged them inside and they greeted each other properly “Did you have a nice time with Rowan?”

“Yes, mum, he is the best.”

Aelin looked up at Rowan “Nice digs Whitethorn. This place is stunning.”

He smiled “I am proud of it too. It’s finally starting to feel like home.”

He did not mention that having Maya’s toys around was helping towards that too.

The two girls went to the sofa and Rowan let them catch up. Maya showed her mum all the hockey presents he had bought her and the TFD puck.

Aelin turned and looked at him with a strange expression and he nodded.

“Maya, could you stay here while I talk to Rowan for a moment?”

“Okay, I have a book to colour.”

Aelin indicated to the kitchen with her head and Rowan followed her inside.

He leaned against the counter, his arms at his chest “She survived the weekend. Did I pass the test?”

“She seemed to have fun.”

“Yes, we had a great time and she likes it.”

“It’s not enough, Rowan.”

The words hit him like a train wreck “What do you mean?”

“You just spent a weekend with her, that is not enough to prove that you can be her dad.”

Rowan felt rage rising fast but reigned it in. He could not scream, Maya was in the other room.

“You promised.” He hissed.

“I know, but it’s too early.”

A savage curse left his lips and he started pacing “I want to be her father.” His voice full of pain and disappointment “Do you know what she asked me yesterday?”

Aelin shook her head.

“She asked me if I could be your boyfriend, like in the stories. She wants me to.”

“Rowan, she is five, everything is a fairytale for her.”

A loud groan escaped him “Our daughter is not stupid. That was a clear sign that she wants a father figure in her life.”

“I am scared.”

“Damn it Aelin, I am scared too. This is big but hell, I don’t think I ever wanted something this bad.”

“We need plans, and rules,” she added while leaning against the counter “This cannot be decided in one night, Rowan.”

He was silent and Aelin could see pain etched in his features. She hated what she was doing to him, but her priority was Maya “I am not risking Maya’s welfare only to satisfy your ego and get called dad.”

Rowan’s hands fisted at his side “Me selfish? You had her for five years and decided not to tell me.”

“I can’t believe we are having this fight again. I told you why.”

“You never gave me the chance. You just assumed just like you are doing now,” he almost roared in frustration “Aelin, please…” his voice full of agony “Let’s tell her.”

Aelin stiffened “No, Rowan. Not yet. I am her mother and it’s my call.”

Rowan left the room and stormed in the living room where Maya was playing on the carpet. He kneeled at her side and hugged her “It’s time to go home with your mum,” Maya threw her arms around his neck “I had an amazing weekend with you, little tornado.”

He heard her sniffle and he was positive his heart was breaking “You can come and visit again. Your room will always be here.”

“Okay.”

Rowan could not pull away from his daughter and fought hard the tears threatening to break. In a burst of courage he stood “Do you have all things ready? Elf?”

Maya nodded quietly and hugged the toy then hugged Rowan’s leg “Love you.”

He lifted her up and kissed her hard on her cheek “You are my favourite person too.”

Aelin grabbed the bags and then Maya’s hand.

“Text me when you are back safely, the road on the way down can be quite bad.”

Aelin nodded “Night, Rowan.”

He walked them outside and on the porch he watched Maya climb in the car then turning and waving at him. He remained outside until the lights disappeared.

Then he walked around the house collecting the toys scattered on the carpet. He grabbed the shark soft toy she had left behind and hugged it and finally let the tears flow.

On the way home Aelin called her mother and asked if she and Maya could visit.

“Fancy going to say hi to grandma and grandpa?”

“Okay.” Answered a very quiet Maya.

Her parents were waiting for them at the door when they arrived. Maya walked quietly to her grandparents and they knew right away that something was wrong “Hello Maya.”

“Hi nana.”

“She is tired, she had a fun weekend with Rowan.”

“Come in both of you, it’s cold outside.”

Evalin who had the radar for her daughter’s worries pulled Aelin in the kitchen “Maya, go and play with grampa.”

Rhoe took his granddaughter away and Evalin shoved Aelin inside “What happened?”

Aelin burst in tears and flung herself in her mother’s arms.

“Was the weekend with Rowan a disaster?”

“No,” she sobbed hard “It was perfect.”

“So why is Maya sad?”

“Because she had to leave him.”

Evalin pushed her daughter on the chair and sat on the one opposite from Aelin.

“And?”

“And we haven’t told her he is her dad and Rowan is now furious at me, but I am scared, mum.”

Evalin patted her daughter’s leg “Of what? Talk to me.”

“What if he leaves again? What if he finds another woman and Maya becomes just a passing thought? If he and I can’t make it work and we make things worse for Maya?” Her tears returned in full force “And all he wants is to tell her the truth to satisfy his ego.”

“I doubt it Aelin, that is not Rowan’s style.”

“He is just so pushy.”

Evalin hugged her daughter “I think he just had a taste at how it feels to be a father and wants to feel that for real and wants to be called dad.” She kissed her daughter’s head “You put his name on the birth certificate, you wanted him to be Maya’s dad.”

“Am I being unreasonable?”

“No, you are just protecting your daughter,” added Evalin quietly “But Maya is smart and will soon start asking question. Soon she will ask why she does not have a dad like the other kids.”

Aelin let out a ragged breath “I know, I have been preparing myself for that.”

“Aelin, you don’t have to do it alone,” she added “and you don’t have to lie. Be candid with your daughter she will appreciate it when she is older.”

“Rowan said that she asked him if he was my boyfriend.”

Evalin was pensive for a moment “which means she has picked up on something.” She added “You never let her stay with anyone apart from us, and all of a sudden Rowan can have her over for a whole weekend?”

“He has bought a car seat, decorated her room, bought her toys and books, childproofed the house.”

Evalin let out a small chuckle “he is whipped already.”

Aelin nodded.

“And the fact that Maya was sad to leave him means that she feels comfortable with him.”

All of a sudden the door of the kitchen burst open “Mama, nana! Grandpa and I are hungry.”

Evalin burst out laughing and went to grab her granddaughter “You little hurricane, what do you want for dinner?”

“Mac and cheese.”

Maya ran away again announcing to her grandfather that they were having Mac and cheese.

“She seems fine again.”

Aelin went to the living room and watched Maya chatting happily with her grampa. Maybe she was being too harsh on Rowan. She should talk to him and try to set out a plan to peacefully share custody of Maya and eventually tell her the truth.

The following morning Rowan was in a foul mood. He hadn’t slept at all during the night. He kept going to Maya’s bedroom and seeing it empty hurt too much. He had tried over and over to text Aelin but after a while he gave up. He had spent the night reading all the letters she wrote to him and looked at the pictures of his daughter growing up. His feelings were a mess. He was mad at Aelin for accusing him of being selfish, resented her for five years of silence and for all that he had missed. But, a treacherous part of his brain focused also on the family that they could have been, at the hole that Aelin had left in his life. He wanted Maya in his life, but deep down he wanted the whole package, his heart longed for Aelin, but was just too scared to listen to it.

A deep sigh.

Now he was at work and the cup of coffee on his desk was not enough to keep him awake.

He struggled to start a new report when a knock came to his door “Yes?” He added annoyed.

Lyria popped inside “Chief, another unannounced visitor, she is quite stubborn.”

“It’s fine.” He added quickly and Lyria disappeared.

He was getting ready to see Aelin but the woman who walked in his office was the older version of Aelin. Evalin waltzed in the room “Hi Rowan.”

He stood and shook her hand “Evalin, please sit.”

The woman took the seat and he knew she was getting ready for battle.

“Welcome back.”

Rowan signed “I am not sure I am that welcome.”

“That’s where you are wrong.” The woman added sternly “There is a little girl who is already in love with her dad. Last night Maya did not stop talking about the weekend she had with you.””

“But her mother does not want me to be a father.”

Evalin sat back on her chair “Aelin is scared and is being very protective.”

“Of me? Why would I ever hurt Maya?”

Evalin shook her head “Rowan, it’s not that she thinks you are going to physically hurt Maya,” she explained “You need to understand this is an adjustment for Aelin too. You two have separate lives and she is just afraid that if you find another woman, then Maya would become an afterthought or even worse that the other woman will try and become another mum.”

“I…” he sighed “I haven’t dated in ages,” he confessed “I had a few dates back in Wendlyn but they did not work out.”

“You are still love my daughter, aren’t you?”

He stood and paced, his hand raking through his long hair. He had thought about his feelings a lot recently, trying to make sense of a past life that was trying very hard to break free. Memories and old feelings begging to be let free. But there was a five years abysm between them and he had no idea how to close it. He wasn’t even sure if she wanted to.

“She is the love of my life, Evalin. I thought I had buried my feelings for her but now that I returned, they are slowly coming back,” he looked in the eyes of the woman so identical to Aelin’s “I don’t want another woman. I want a family with her and Maya, but I don’t think Aelin feels like that about me anymore.”

Evalin looked up at Rowan and saw pure anguish in his eyes. “I never liked that Aelin kept you in the dark. We had arguments about it. But my daughter is stubborn so her father and I had just to let her to make her choices.”

Rowan stood shocked at the admission “What do I do? How do I convince her? She accused me of wanting to tell Maya I am her dad just to satisfy my ego.”

Evalin noticed the frustration rising in Rowan “She told me and I don’t believe it.”

His pacing resumed “I do not want to go the legal way to have the right to see my daughter.”

“I know,” the woman admitted “But I think you and Aelin need to sort first all your unresolved problems and then concentrate on Maya only.”

Rowan nodded and Evalin continued “I am on Maya’s side on this. You two are adults and can resolve you businesses between the two of you, but with Maya’s welfare in mind. Her grandfather and I are very protective too of that little girl. Don’t forget that.”

Evalin stood.

“Thank you Evalin.”

“Go and get your family back, Rowan.”

He watched the woman leave his office and realised that it was nice to know he had another ally in this fight.

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck @susumaus98 @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #aelin x rowan #rowanwhitethorn #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin galathynius #rowaelin angst

38 notes · View notes

whatudowhennooneseesyou · 1 year

Note

Since it's our baby Hwa's birthday! Could you do a timestamp of him getting all excited cause the reader bought him a new lego set he's been wanting for ages? ♡♡♡

10:04 AM: sfw, fluff, just adorable cuteness

'Hey, baby' You lightly tiptoed into the living room with a wrapped birthday present behind your back, a Cheshire Cat grin plastered all over your face.

Seonghwa beamed up at you as he was finishing the last of his birthday cake.

'Hey...what are you hiding there?' He asked quizzically.

You feigned a look of surprise as you slowly removed the present from behind your back, already noticing Seonghwa's excitement at the glossy, chrome silver wrapping paper.

'It's just one last birthday present, it's a really special one so I wanted to save it until the end of the day'.

You sat on the couch next to him as he eagerly and carefully removed the bow from the present, gently tearing at the corners.

'I love the paper, I'm going to keep it, how did you know silver is my favourite colour?'

His round, boba eyes sparkled in glee as he looked down at the new piece of Lego, he had been hinting (quite obviously) for DAYS.

'You got it!!! I have been waiting for this!!' His eyes misted with tears and his voice cracked slightly, placing the Lego on the table in front of him.

He cupped his hands around your face and leaned in to give you a chaste but loving kiss, his thumb stroking your cheekbone as he pulled away, bowing his forehead to yours.

'My precious, little star. This is the best birthday ever'

#whatudowhennooneseesyou moots #ateez timestamp #ateez fluff #park seongwha #seonghwa x reader #ateez soft asks

39 notes · View notes

uniquevocashark · 2 years

Text

Tea and Ice Lattes Part 3

hnnnng part 4 coming soon

Its Saturday morning, and though it had been storming for most of the week, it seemed as if Alcina’s sheer desire for a good day for your date had pulled the sun out from behind the clouds.

The café was busy in the morning but the kind of busy that was all take out and no stay ins. The doors had been wedged open, and the breeze that blew in was welcome.

You checked the clock.

Eleven minutes to ten.

You drummed your fingers on the table. The noise was pleasant at least, familiar. Grounding, as you stared at nothing in particular to avoid blushing when Alcina looked at you.

The shop tables were all but abandoned that morning, but for you, her and her ducks, who waddled about your table inquisitively. She was wearing a long orange dress, ankle length, with a high neckline decorated in three yellow roses. Her ducks wore little capes of a matching colour, the family crest on the bottom left corner.

Conversation had been dry; on her side a preoccupation with the time, and on yours from the crushing realisation that this was, most technically, a date. And only the start of a date at that.

You had been nervous all week, spiking up to a new high on Tuesday, and it turned into something uniquely hell inspiring when she sat in front of you.

…

It had started on Tuesday night. You had just gotten home, a bone deep tiredness settling in your bones and a light coffee induced headache rattling in your skull, when you were approached by the oddest dressed woman you had ever seen. She was on the reedy side of tall, muscled but with little else, and covered in scars that looked like bitemarks, bearing the crest of the Countess on her breast pocket.

She licked her teeth anxiously as you approached, a cream box underneath her arm, “Do you live here?”

She had gestured at your door.

“Who are you?”

You watched her visibly relax and then hand the box to you like it was a cursed, burning object, “This is from you. From the heiress.”

“Um.” You didn’t grab the box.

“From Miss Dimitrescu,” She repeated, her voice going into an even shriller whistle, “I must be going, so take it.”

And then she was gone, like a phantom on the wind, and you stood at the door of your apartment holding a box that looked like it cost more than your entire wardrobe. You unlocked the door and went in. You really had to talk to her about the gifts.

There was a huge letter attached, lilac in colour, and it seemed to radiate a certain kind of malice only present from intense apprehension. It, and the box which was equally suspicious, sat unopened on the opposite side of your tiny couch for three days before you finally felt compelled enough to open it.

You didn’t know the difference between grades of paper, but just the feel of the envelope felt disgustingly expensive. The lettering was golden filigree, or maybe even golden ink?, and when you ripped it open you felt intensely lower class that was probably unintentional.

Probably.

There were two papers in the envelope: a small crème card, your name in bold red letters, a formal invitation out underneath it in looping black lettering. A small I’m so excited to see you this Saturday was scribbled in the corner, with a little smiling duck next to it that made you smile. And behind it was a handwritten note, on paper blotched in different kinds of ink, with a different loopier handwriting. There was no address line, or even a simple hello, but you could guess who sent it.

Rest assured that this gift given in good faith, and from Alcina alone, and that I merely wished to impart my congratulations to my dear daughter’s girlfriend (you noted that the word was indented into the paper deeply, like the person had been pressing too hard with their pen) of whom I have not be appropriately introduced.

I am so looking forward to our second introduction, for my daughter has been quite tight lipped about you.

Till this evening and with my fullest, warmest regards,

Countess Dimitrescu

You read it over, then looked at the box.

You almost threw it away. Almost.

And then you remembered that if you did, the Countess would almost certainly destroy your life.

You opened it.

Inside was a frock and you could barely believe you were holding anything when you picked it up.

The fabric was impossibly light and soft, a dark and luxurious peach colour, and it was your size. You turned it around in your hands, and checked over the measurements, and you had the strongest urge to just lay down and not move for the next day. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

It was fine, this was just a kind gesture, you were sure. A bit of an assumption, true, but you were positive it was just a gift from one friend to another. You weren’t that bad with your clothes, you had good clothes to wear, you didn’t really need this, she just wanted you to have something good to wear.

You rubbed the fabric between two fingers, barely able make out the individual threads of the expertly woven garment.

Oh god, it was a total fuck me frock.

Was she coming on to you?

You set it down carefully in the box, it was your goddamn size, and then grabbed your empty mug. Another coffee would have made you manic, and you were in no mood for a stomach-ache, so you filled it with water and sipped through it slowly while staring vaguely into the distance. You would have to wear the coat, wouldn’t you?

…

Here you were, Saturday morning, wearing the frock.

It was a really good dress, and you normally didn’t have any time to wear something so nice. It might have seemed a bit shallow but, it was made for you, and it did look good. You were certainly going to bring it up with her, it was concerning that she knew your size for fucks sake. The little duck buttons on the cuff were cute but goddamn did it make a statement you weren’t too comfortable with.

If you were her girlfriend, and had she asked beforehand, maybe you would have accepted it. it was an almost sweet gesture but for the little addition that how the fuck did she know your size and who the fuck told her where you lived. It might have even been friendly other than those details.

You really were going to bring it up to her. Soon. Definitely soon.

How would you even explain this gift? How would you even phrase it? Oh yes, my sort of friend who might have a crush on me and is taking me to a rich person place for a date and who gave me the frock I’m wearing. Yes, it was a gift. No, I’m not a sugar baby, why do you ask?

Maybe it was also because it was a sign that someone cared about you and that you were happy for that, hence wearing the frock. Or maybe you were overthinking because you were going on a confirmed date with Alcina Dimitrescu and were going to have a formal, awkward introduction to the mother that gave you some sort of plague sore. Overthinking was more like you.

“Are you sure you don’t want a coffee before we go?” Alcina asked, and you realised you had been staring straight at her unblinkingly.

You cleared your throat, “I’m alright, I’ve already had two today.”

“I see.” She recrossed her legs, Archibald laying on her hand like a villainous cat.

She stared back at you and drummed your fingers on your leg, “Hey, about the dress.”

“It looks very good on you.”

You sucked in a breath to stop from stuttering, “Thank you, but I was more thinking about how it was sort of out of the blue.”

“oh,” she even had the sense to look embarrassed as she said it, “I jumped the gun a bit, didn’t I?”

You thanked your lucky stars she understood, “Yeah. It was really uncomfortable to find some random woman outside my house with a dress my size.”

“A woman?”

“A maid, I think?”

“That isn’t right.”

“That’s how it happened.”

“It was supposed to come to the store,” Alcina muttered, one hand covering yours gently, “I swear, she was only supposed to come here and nowhere else. I don’t even know where you live.”

From the way her whole face seemed to ooze sincerity, you believed her, “Your mother left a note with it.”

She hissed and you laughed nervously. You curled your shoulders in more, the back of your neck prickling.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Alcina said gently, “My mother has been doing this since I was younger.”

“That sucks.”

She winked at you, but it didn’t make you feel any better, “You get used to it.”

Her watched beeped before you could answer, and she offered you her hand while her ducks filed into her purse. “You don’t have to come, if you’re not comfortable.”

You looked at her and sighed, “Of course I’m coming.” You said and took her hand. Her fingers closed over yours gently, and warmly.

It felt surreal to hold her hand. It was so much larger than yours, all encompassing, and warm as a blazing hearth too. God. You were so gay. She helped you stand and then your hands fell away from each others, and you caught a glimpse of Maxwell and Rosalyn exchanging worried glances from behind the counter. That was super reassuring.

You followed Alcina to the car that fishtailed through the busy morning traffic, sliding up to the curve with nary a care to the way the quick stop made the tires screech. Alcina opened the door for you and you slid in, and wow, the car was spacious. Alcina slid in beside you, her hip bumping into yours even when you went to the other side, and you realised you’d be that close to her for the entire car trip.

“So,” She started as she shut the door, stretching out her legs and resting them on the empty seats opposite you both, “We’re going to a restaurant not to far from here, Beneviento’s, that I thought you might like.”

“The insanely expensive one that will bankrupt me for one meal?”

She looked at you oddly, “It’s not that expensive, surely?”

How could you have forgotten that she was filthy fucking rich. “It’s 600 to book a place if you’re,” You gestured vaguely, “more human than not.”

“Oh, I had no idea,” She said flippantly, “I know the owner, she promised a free spot for you.”

You gaped, “You know the owner?”

“Yes? We grew up together.”

“The current head Beneviento. The one that’s travelled the world over and is renowned for a palate so exact she could accurately age a cauliflower by taste down to the hour?”

“Yes?” She raised her brow and then her purse quacked in protest.

“I forget that you’re rich, often.”

She frowned, and looked at you from the corner of her eye with a soft pout on her lips while she riffled through her purse, “I’m sure it’s not that different to how you live?”

You almost called her completely out of touch. Instead, you grabbed her other hand as she whispered admonishments into her purse. You sort of leaned into her, and she leaned back, just a touch.

“Not really.” You answered after ten minutes, after she had fully seated her ducks into their little chairs, and the car was speeding down the road, and your head rested on her bicep lightly, her cheeks a soft shade of pink.

#its 11:59 when posting this it counts #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #tea and ice lattes #my fic

21 notes · View notes

jamtoasties3316 · 2 years

Note

Mermaid Princess Charles having grown up obsessed with humans, only able to watch them from afar and collect the things lost to the ocean.

One of Charles' sisters gets caught in a fishnet, intended to collect dinner for the Prince's ship. The crew of the ship poke and prod at her body and her tail, talking about taking her home as a trophy, but a crewmember is kind and returns her to the ocean in the dead of night. When the king finds out, all of the princesses are confined to the castle. Charles knows how to escape, too upset to think rationally he goes straight to the sea witch.

The sea witch makes a deal; voice for legs, 3 days for the prince to fall in love before Charles turns to seafoam. As a side effect his gills will disappear but the scale patches on his stomach, arms, shoulders, and back will remain.

By sunrise Charles washes up on the shore, nude with the tail he shed lying next to him. The prince finds Charles, calling for servants to help carry Charles and the tail. The prince cannot believe his luck in finding 2 mermaids when most sailors never see any. He'd been furious when the first escaped, but now he has one thats far prettier with scales that match his house colours; red white and gold.

Charles is washed by servants, dressed in sheer fabrics, then he and his tail are presented to the king. The king takes the tail, announcing it will be hung above the throne so all may view its beauty. The prince is allowed to claim Charles as his own, to do as he please.

The prince needs a bride, so he announces his intention to wed Charles. The king approves the union. Charles hopes the engagement counts as "in love" for the sea witch.

"Seeing as we are to be wedded, we should be familiar. I am Carlos, named after my father. What do they call you Omega? Charles cannot answer him, and he has no clue what an Omega is.

Months pass in a whirlwind. Charles learns to walk, how to dance, how to eat using the right plates and cutlery, how to greet people of every social level. Carlos visits every day, mostly to look at Charles or talk to him, always calling him "Omega". Charles never speaks back to Carlos but his intendes likes that, saying a wife who cannot protest is what he has wished for.

The wedding is a blur to Charles; he feels feverish and delirious, his stomach hurts, his pussy aches and drips. Charles knows everyone can see the sweat, his sheer dress becoming less and less sheer. Charles struggles to stand, his legs feeling so weak, but Carlos is right there for him to lean on and the groom does smell so alluring. At some point it must get too much, for the next thing Charles remembers is being in bed with Carlos knotting his pussy.

"Starting your first heat on our wedding day, seems fitting for a whore like yourself."

Pretty mermaid Charles wanting to be the Prince's partner so much! And yes, his sister was traumatised about how they touched her, but Charles thinks she is weak and spoiled anyway. So he goes to the witch to get the spell to gain legs and is very excited about everything at first, even when he no longer has his voice. Carlos finds him and the tail, and Charles likes how Carlos keeps looking at him and seems possessive.

Charles presented in sheer fabrics showing off his body and the little scales, and the king takes the tail excitedly, before walking over to Charles and pulling the sheer fabric away to inspect Charles's body and deeming him good enough for his son

Charles going through extensive training and the King and Prince are pleased he does not talk. He doesnt have to, its better if he cant protest. The King and Prince are very kind and affectionate, charles thinks, always touching and complimenting him.

Then its time for the wedding and Charles is again put in the sheer fabrics. I like the idea of his body instinctively presenting as Omega and even getting his heat on his wedding day. He is so sweaty and feels weird but Carlos holds him. Charles is confused to wake up with a cock in his pussy and doesnt understand what it all means as Carlos growls he is a slutty Omega for getting his Heat on the wedding, and now he will go back to the wedding party with cum on his legs to show the king he is claimed like a good whore should be. He feels weird and still feverish as the King touches his pussy and looks at his gaping little hole, but its celebrated so Charles feels happy.

9 notes · View notes

grad604-jasdeepdhaliwal · 10 months

Text

Outline

Locating your creative practise, finding your creative voice.

Design Artefacts:

Outcomes/delivarbles:

Formative - Map

Summative - essay - presented in a A2 format

IN CLASS TASKS

Reflecting on the projects we saw in our morning lectures, discuss either the Matariki posters or the student projects on the plastic.

What did you like about it?

The ideas

I really enjoyed watching the student work behind the plastic as even though I’m from a completely different background I know my friends who have told me different stories on them being ashamed about calling themselves samoan as they feel plastic cause they can't speak their native language. I really liked how instead of keeping it just typography based or picture based they decided to use images of the people who were referred to as “plastic.” I also really like the idea on how they let each person who was photographed to be able to draw and freely express how the word “plastic” made them feel. I also thought it was interesting reading the survey responses and how it related on a much deeper level to the people of the Pacifica community as they left their personal stories and experiences to a question that required a yes/no answer.

5 sentences - “Where I am from”

My feet touch the pebbles to see my whanau as I smell the barbeque.

The green trees with the sound of the gusting wind is where I’m from as I take a bite from nanny’s cooking.

My reflection in my whanau’s sacrifice shows me where I’m from.

The colourful vibrant sweets on my table bring a sense of my whanau’s reflection.

The dust in my eyes as I chase after the dogs is where I’m from.

Reflection

Sweets - signifying my cultural sweets (barfi)

Sacrifice - Immigrating

Gusting wing - Change

Dust - Location

Who are the designers, illustrators or organisations in Aotearoa or worldwide who influence you?

Alistair McCready (Typography based designer)

Rupi Kaur (Poet)

Voices of hope (Mental health charity affirmations)

Fahmeed (Works with big artists and makes animations)

What do you value as a creative?

Cultural movement (Specifically Punjabi Sikh)

Mental Health

Feminism

Te Toi o Mangahekea, 2023

by tā moko and public installation artist Graham Tipene (Ngāti Whātua, Ngāti Kahu, Ngāti Hine, Ngāti Hauā, Ngāti Manu)

I can engage my curiosity on this by visiting this art gallery in person as this piece is outside AUT. I can go on their website and read the online website about it and the story to Graham Tipene’s thought process in designing this and what it actually means.

The values they bring into the work are

Inclusivity

Individualism

Passion

The design communities emerging from this piece are collectively from the Maori culture itself or people who didn’t know about their own native tongue but are relating to this piece on visually understanding more about their own homeland, as well as the diversed community surrounding this piece in New Zealand who have yet to start learning about it.

What excites me is how patterns can have such a deep meaning as well as the repetition in this particular piece and that it was outside the art gallery where I’m always walking past and there's no text to explain anything so that’s when you feel curious on wanting to know more to gain a better understanding.

The Creative

I am doing the creative practise and underpinning research and this can be approaching my work from different angles everyday and finding different solutions and problems to be working with, so I’m always staying curious and learning different ways of designing it.

I’m a designer who loves doing illustrations and working with type, if I ever get the chance to showcase my culture I love shining the light on it as everyday I learn more about it, and I feel like knowing my native language brings me closer to myself.

The influences on me as a designer come from many people, old traditions and stories within my own culture, influences with my peers in class and seeing the design directions where their work comes from, online research on worldwide people but mostly I like to choose categories of certain types of designs that I can intimately relate to.

I can unpack design ideologues by noting everything I've seen and what I want to believe in and what makes those designs visually relatable to me. It wouldn’t be my individual design piece if I never believed in it.

I can however expand my visual vocabulary by understanding the environmental, social, cultural and political context of my design influences as it’s not a trend and an ongoing discussion which can somehow correlate into my own work. I can always have another route by learning this way as I can explore and see how I respond to those pieces of work. I'll never know if I stick to the same comfort zone.

I value

Key themes, ideas and conversations in my work

0 notes

mackenziecooper123 · 1 year

Text

Evaluation of breif

This group project was very exciting and certainly a learning experience as I had never used Adobe XD or created an app prototype. Group projects always have positive and negative aspects to them and I think this project certainly had a bit of both.

I think we did amazingly with the organisation of the group. I personally suggested days to go in to uni and get the work done together as a group as I feel like that is more of an efficient way of doing such a hands on group project instead of everyone being at home doing selected parts to collaborate but working as if it was an individual project. I also really appreciated how smoothly we made decisions as a group. When ever a vital decision had to be made we all voiced our thoughts and found a good middle ground so everyone was pleased with the final outcome. I am also very pleased with how we presented our final presentation. It really felt like we were presenting to potential clients and was exciting and I feel like we handled it in a very relaxed yet well planned manor, each of us having equal amounts of speech and voicing where we shined within the making of ‘Unipack’.

Looking back we certainly could have handled a few things better and if I could go back in time I would change these things. The main thing that could have been improved on is the even distribution of work. During this project I really saw fist handedly how different people work in a group setting and individually. For this project I did background research including looking at already existing applications similar to ours and by seeing what uni student packing help is out there so far, attempting few colour schemes and I also designed the illustrations for the app. Which was exciting as I am certainly not an illustrator. But I feel like I was the middle ground out of the extremes in my project as one individual did a lot of the work before we even met up to start and another didn’t participate as much in the project. I personally wish each task would have been evenly distributed throughout the group so you could see the 3 individuals ideas and personal work throughout the app more fluidly.

In conclusion, I enjoyed this project as it made me closer with people I didn’t necessarily talk to very often, I am also more familiar with XD which is another software I can use now with somewhat confidence. And overall think it was an exciting and quick project to be added into the third term where as a group we worked well but as always looking back I would make small tweaks to how we executed certain ways of working together.

0 notes

ayasinspiration · 2 years

Text

Research

https://yourartpath.com/types-of-line-in-art-meaning

After my decision to express conversations through lines, creating abstract .

I did a bit of a research on how the lines work and which lines I am going to use in order to express different components of the speech.

https://theconversation.com/explainer-why-the-human-voice-is-so-versatile-69800

Voice explanation

How the voice is produced

Voice production can be thought of as a source-filter model. The voice is a combination of a vibrating source that controls its amplitude and pitch (the five tones in the example above), and an acoustic filter that controls how it sounds, much like how you can shape the sound with a graphic equaliser on a sound system.

The source is the vibrating vocal folds situated in the larynx. The filter is the airway that runs from the vocal folds to the lips or nostrils, which we call the vocal tract.

The voice is an instrument which we use all the time from the day we’ve been born to our very last moment. It is important for the aim of this project to acknowledge the structure and how we produce sound.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WX3YNJd8Y4A

https://dictionary.cambridge.org/topics/language/ways-of-speaking/

https://news.stanford.edu/2019/08/22/the-power-of-language-how-words-shape-people-culture/

https://www.coursehero.com/study-guides/boundless-psychology/influence-of-culture-on-emotion/

https://www.researchgate.net/publication/264309590_Visualizing_Vocal_Expression

In this case study they are exploring the sounds as an abstract shapes. It is really interesting to understand how people are trying to express the human voice through different systems.

https://social.cs.uiuc.edu/papers/pdfs/pietrowicz_CHIEA14.pdf

http://www.cybertherapyandrehabilitation.com/2013/06/visualizing-voice/

There are two conversations presented on the images. Here the colours are bright and the way they explore the topic is through circular system which shows how people communicate. Each participant in the conversation is presented through different colour.

https://blog.soundviz.com/2015/10/29/8-stunning-ways-artists-are-visualizing-sound/

The following links are showing the traditional way of exploring the topic ‘voice and visualisation’.

https://www.futurelearn.com/info/courses/music-moves/0/steps/12681

Most importantly, we will have a look at three visual representations of sound: the waveform, spectrum and spectrogram.

The only way for people to see their voice is through waveform or spectrum, but my idea is to create art (abstract ) following my own rules and exposing not their voice but their way of speaking following a conversation or explanation. There is nothing to do with science only with the voice and my understanding about it.

https://www.voicebase.com/5-reasons-to-combine-data-visualization-and-speech-analytics/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4828474/

About my research:

There are many exciting ways to represent sound which is amazing. Thorough my research I saw big diversity and explorations. The common one is with the help of programs which analyse data behind the noise, measuring the different qualities of the audio and than assigning a visual component of them. Even Apple Music has its own music visualiser so while you’re listening it gives you the opportunity to watch the movement of the voice/melody. The topic is really abstract and at the same time really researched by a lot of people in many different ways. Every person who tried to visualise voice has a different idea about the process of investigation.And there is a big diversity of outcomes. Most of the people are exploring the subject through different data programs, others through different shapes and colours and morover there are artists who draw the conversations and express feelings through an actual art works.

I am amazed, when I first begun with this project I was scared that I won’t be able to research it in a certain way cause I thought that it is pretty abstract and the information would be not that much, but at the moment I’ve started with the research I found a lot of information.

My system is different and it is not linked to any of the techniques I found and read about. It is completely invented by me and my vision about voice and speech. For me every person has his own point of view so I focused on my own since I am the person who’s working on this topic.

0 notes

jimlingss · 4 years

Text

The Colour of Our Voices [1]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 1.5 OR Chapter 2

➜ Words: 3.3k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

➜ Notes: I’m so excited to finally share this series. I’m pretty satisfied with how it turned out, so get ready for a rollercoaster, y’all.

cr.

The moving truck wakes you. It’s deafening. You can hear the slow ‘beep, beep, beep’ of the vehicle backing up. With one eye open, you grab your phone to check the time. It’s ten minutes before your alarm.

You begrudgingly rise, getting ready for the day and humming while you brush your teeth to warm up your throat. You change your clothes, then eat cereal in silence at your kitchen counter. Once you’re ready, you leave. But not two steps out your door are you clumsily tripping over a cardboard box. You make sure not to scream too loudly in case you draw attention. So with a muffled sound and your ankle throbbing at how it was twisted, you stand again. Someone’s moving in next door. There are messy boxes littering the hall, the door wide open, and from what you can see inside, the living space is empty. But you don’t dwell, making your own way down the hall to the stairwell. The timing is poor. By mere seconds, you miss the brunette boy sticking his head out the door with pouty lips and cute eyes, peeking down the hall to catch your retreating form. You limp to the station and as your shitty luck would have it, the train becomes delayed while you’re squished in the middle cart that’s packed like sweaty sardines. It halts suddenly, everyone jolting and you flinch when someone stomps on your right foot by accident. There’s no apology. “Hey, watch it,” the man beside you grumbles and you’re pushed again, at least with your foot free this time and throbbing inside of your worn shoe. “S-sorry.” The delay makes you late by the time you arrive in Time Square. You run through the street, shouting more apologies as you dive through the busy crowds and tourist groups. Once you make it to New 42nd Street Studios, you sprint down the stairs to the basement of the building. You nearly trip and tumble downwards to your death, but you catch yourself on the sticky railing. It’s three minutes past nine o’clock. “You’re late.” “I’m sorry.” “Sorry doesn’t make you earlier.” The director sighs and rolls his eyes. He turns away from you and claps his hands together, scanning the rest of the bustling crew. “Today’s the day folks! We have dress rehearsal and then the show begins at six sharp! It’s showtime! So let’s get moving. You there, intern, go get coffee. And try not to be late this time.” “Y-yes, sir.” Up the stairs you go again. It seems like you’re always running, whether it’s for this job or to this job. But you quickly remind yourself that it’s a privilege to be here. Years ago, you would’ve cried tears of happiness if you knew you’d be on the production team of Phantom of the Opera. Of course, you would’ve assumed you were performing. But being an intern was good enough. Everyone had to start somewhere. “Hi, can I get ten americanos, six iced and four hot, three chai tea lattes, four vanilla lattes, three espressos, seven cappuccinos, and a green tea?” The barista runs the company card into the side of her screen and then her eyes flicker up at you. “Sorry, it keeps saying declined. Do you have another method of payment?” “O-oh. Sorry about that.” You end up paying out of your own pocket for the drinks. There’s no point in telling the director the company card failed — he’ll find some excuse to pin the blame on you, and it’s a small problem not worth the trouble. You run back while balancing the plastic bags and cup holders in your hands, trying not to spill any of them. Once arrived, you hand them out to the crew members, actors, and actresses. “Intern! What’s this?!” The director approaches and sighs. You prepare yourself, already reading that expression on his face. “I said six hot and four iced americanos. You got the order wrong!” You bow your head. “S-sorry, my apologies.” “You and your apologies!” His teeth are gritted, face reddened in anger. “Apologies doesn’t make my americano hot does it?!” “I can go get another one if you need—” “Don’t waste my time more than you already have.” He waves you off, sighing, and you’re left to drown in the humiliation as the others around you snicker underneath their breaths. You release the air held in your throat and you narrow your eyes sharply into his backside as he walks away from you. You hold your tongue, reminding yourself that being here is a privilege. // The curtains draw. There’s bated breath held in the audience, a certain sense of anticipation that builds the suspense until everyone’s on the edge of their seats. The lair is shown, mist spiraling on the floor, candles all around. The phantom with his cloak and half-mask sits at the organ. Christine is enchanted, walking closer towards him slowly like she’s been bewitched by a spell. The actor recites his lines, and then the music begins. “Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation.” It’s a baritone voice, rich and seductive, but still sweet. “Darkness wakes and stirs imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses.” The violin strings pull as if echoing after the voice. You hold the microphone to your lips, singing and pulling the notes from deep in your stomach. The mic has been moved down several pitches to match the baritone vocal range that you wouldn’t be able to reach on your own, but the tone is rich and believable to be of the actor’s. After all, one of the biggest efforts the director made was to be able to pull this off. “.....the darkness of the music of the night.” Your eyes are shut, headphones on and you press the left side closer down to your ear, drowning in the lovely instrumental. “Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be.” The note is belted out, streaming out from your lips like silk. And when it’s over, you grin. It’s thrilling, a kind of pride blooming inside your chest that’s rare for you to experience. Even if you’ve done it so many times, it never fails to bring you delight — you’re unable to believe that you actually did it. Once the song is complete, there’s thunderous applause. A smile spreads into your cheeks, one that’s infectious but no one sees when you’re hidden behind the curtain. And had you been standing on the stage in the spotlight, you might’ve noticed the brunette boy with pouty lips and cute eyes amidst the crowd. He’s become enraptured by your voice. He’s enchanted, heart stuttering, speechless beyond words. This was the voice he was waiting for. This was it. The show eventually comes to a close and everyone holds hands to bow to the audience. You peek out from backstage to watch the curtains being brought down. “Good job everyone. Nice job crew. Taeyeon, beautiful job as Christine once again. You were lovely, darling. Your sound is like melted caramel.” The director continues with his praises, and the other girls playing more minor roles flock to Taeyeon’s side to also shower her with compliments. The whole gathering parade themselves into the dressing room, brushing right past you. “Oh, yes, there’s the star of our show! Kim Seokjin, you never cease to amaze me! Beautiful job as Phantom!” “Of course.” Seokjin grins, charismatic and charming as always. “You shouldn’t expect any less of me. With a face like this, how could I ever fail?!” There’s bellowing laughter that rings and pierces your eardrums. “You’re right!” You wait as they come closer. Your breath is held. Maybe today, you did a good enough job that he’ll acknowledge you— But then the director walks past you like you’re a plant. Wallpaper. A backstage prop. “I loved that emotion you expressed in the final piece. Almost moved me to tears.” “I tried to do a different interpretation of it this time…” Their voices fade off and you sigh. You’re envious. Kim Seokjin has a good face. He can act. He can dance. He has stage presence. He’s magnetizing and charming. But he just can’t sing. The man can’t hold a steady note for the life of him. You suspect he’s tone-deaf. Understandably, the director couldn’t give up on his godly face, so you became his voice. A ghost singer. It actually works out well. You don't have to be on stage in the spotlight where every single person can scrutinize you, but your voice can be heard. In a way, it’s like you’re performing. But you can still be comfortable. You just wish you were acknowledged. Even if it’s just a little. You’re suddenly shocked out of your thoughts when one of the crew members hands you a stick, clearing his throat obnoxiously. “Start sweeping.” You carry the broom and dustpan, beginning to brush away at the confetti that exploded, clearing the floor of dust and dirt. And you end up missing the boy who sneaks himself backstage, who looks around and slips into the shadows. He walks down the corridor, luckily finding the dressing rooms and he follows the nameplates until he discovers the one that reads ‘Kim Seokjin’. The boy knocks three times in rapid succession. He puts on his best smile and tries to push the wrinkles out of his suit jacket that’s too small and worn. The door opens. The laughter tapers off. Jin’s makeup and fake burnt skin have been removed. What’s left is pure godlike genes, and he’s blinded by the older man’s handsomeness, having to resist the urge to shield his eyes. “Who are you?” “M-My name is Park Jimin. I’m a fan, I-I absolutely loved your voice on the show.” “You want an autograph? Of course you do.” “Who’s that?” the director calls out, lounging on the sofa and drinking a glass of red wine. “A fan,” Seokjin turns his head to say, and then he grabs a piece of paper. He makes an enormous signature with permanent marker and several loops in his name. Once finished, he slaps it to Jimin’s chest before the younger can even breathe. “Thanks for your support.” “Wait. Mr. Kim.” Jimin puts his foot between the door before he can shut it. The actor raises his brow and looks at him. “My dream is to be on Broadway. I know this is a lot to ask of you, but can you please mentor me?” Jin stares at him and then frowns in annoyance. “Mentor you?” Jimin quickly adds, “I promise I’ll try my best. I am willing to give up anything and learn and you seem to be the best of the best. I haven’t heard such a great baritone voice like yours in so long. Please accept me as your student.” There’s an extended silence. “Sorry. I don’t accept students.” “W-wait. Please!” “Security!” Seokjin shouts outside the door. “Get him out of here!” Jimin’s shell-shocked, unable to move when his feet are rooted in the ground. His bones have been frozen. The precious image of his idol that he’s created in his own mind for the past two hours has shattered. He’s left in utter shame and disappointment. “Hey...you’re not allowed to be here!” One of the crew members suddenly points to him. And then a hand plops down onto his shoulder, a grip firm and intimidating. Jimin looks up to find a stocky security guard, and he sighs. He drags his own legs, shoulders slumped, escorted out. // It takes an hour to help the crew clean up. You assist them in sweeping and putting away the props, all while waiting patiently with your eyes pinned on the entrance of the corridor. You dust your hands off, and you’re lucky with your timing. The director is walking out with his bag slung over his shoulder, jacket over his arm, busy sipping on some warm tea. “Director Kang!” You stop right in front of him and he looks at you in boredom. “Why haven’t you gone home yet, intern?” You’ve been cleaning up the entire time, but you don’t bother telling him in case he tells you that you’re too slow to complete tasks. You’re too preoccupied anyways, catching your breath. It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. “D-Director. I know we’ve talked about this before, b-but I really hope you’ll reconsider the referral.” He sighs, rolls his eyes, and continues walking. You follow beside him frantically while he pulls out his phone to message someone. “I think I’ve been trying my hardest at this job and I've been putting in a lot of hours. I’ve thought about what you said and your advice and I feel like I’ve improved in my singing, s-so….please give me a referral to an agent.” All you need is a referral. One measly call and you can be in touch with someone who could expand their hands and help you. You could finally make a break in the industry, make a debut on Broadway. It’s what you’ve been trying to achieve your entire life. It’s your dream. Your goal. The reason you left everything back and home and came all the way here. But he’s not paying any attention to your desperate pleas. “Director?” He’s irritated — you can tell with the way he huffs out. It makes you flinch, but he at least stops. “Intern, don’t make me repeat myself. You need to focus on what you’re doing now. Frankly, you’re not even good at this insignificant job. How are you supposed to achieve big things?” “B-But…” “You can’t take big leaps when you can’t even take small steps yet. You’re not ready. Not yet. If I happen to notice that you’re finally putting in some real effort and some hard grind, then I’ll think about it again. But now’s just not the time.” “I…” You’re at a loss, on the verge of sobbing. “Now if you’re finished, I have a call to make.” He presses his phone to his ear, a universal sign that he’s not continuing the conversation. You watch him get into his car, driving away, and you’re left there on the street in a cloud of his gas exhaust.

Jimin is at a loss. He paces around in his empty apartment room with still taped boxes scattered everywhere. He doesn’t feel like unpacking and putting away his belongings. Not when his mind was stuck on something else. He came all the way here to look for a mentor — having followed his community theater director’s instructions to work on his singing. But without a teacher he can’t make his big break. “What am I going to do now?” he sighs. Maybe he jumped the gun a little too soon. It was pretty intense of him to go to a show right on the day when he moved in when he probably should’ve gotten settled. But there’s no time to waste when time is of the essence! Maybe he could somehow convince Seokjin to take him as a student. He is pretty insistent and not one to give up just after a single rejection…. Jimin sits on his couch, the only piece of furniture intact in his home, and he folds his hands together. His brows are furrowed, in deep contemplation onto the next step. But then suddenly, he hears a voice. “—your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams.” It’s coming from the window. Sweet and melodic. Jimin’s captivated and stands on his feet, following the sound as if he was being gently tugged by a red string tied around his finger. “Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before.” He steps out barefoot onto his chilly balcony. His eyes are fixed on the balcony beside him, the tiny flower beds that are wilting, the warm lights that pour out from inside the home, how the doors are slightly open to welcome a breeze. “Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar!” He hangs onto the note, relishes in how it stirs his very soul, and then rushes out. “And you'll live as you've never lived before....” Jimin throws his front door open and then pounds onto the door next to his with his fist. Three beats. One — two — three. And it opens. He smiles. Then it falls. His line of sight comes a little lower than expected. He was anticipating a man singing, perhaps someone alike to Seokjin, lean and handsome. But instead, it’s a timid girl in pajamas — you. “H-hello?” you squeak, nervous. “H-Hi. I...I just….” He taps his ear, trying to explain himself. “I thought I heard…heard....never mind.” Jimin hitches his thumb over his shoulder and awkwardly tilts his body. “I just moved in.” “Y-Yeah. I saw this morning.” “So…it’s-uh-nice to meet you, I guess. I mean I don’t guess because it is great to meet you. I swear I’m not usually like this. What I mean is usually I’m not so direct. And, um, bad at speaking. We’ll be neighbors from now on. So I wanted to say hello, since usually, that’s the polite thing to do. Or at least what my mom tells me. She’s great. My mom. But right, I didn’t even tell you my name. My bad. I’m Park Jimin.” He extends and opens his hand. Then he realizes it’s idiotic for him to shake hands with you. It wasn’t like this was some sort of business transaction. So Jimin lowers his arm….right when you’re opening your palm. It’s a missed handshake, and he’s cringing so hard, he’s tempted to jump off the balcony. But instead, he musters up stiff laughter and raises his hand to shake yours. He muses how soft your skin is, but tries not to think about it too much in case that’s a weird thought. Which it is. God, he’s usually not this nervous. It’s a fucking mess. Yet, you still offer him a polite smile. “I’m Y/N.” “Nice name. I mean all names are nice, but yours in particular. Not that I mean anything by it. Like it’s quite normal, but not normal in the sense that it’s overused. Not that overused names are a bad thing.” It’s terribly awkward. That blank stare you’re giving him doesn’t help with his perspiration either. Jimin tries to smile to show that he’s not a freak. But it might also be doing the opposite effect. “Well, I should get going now. Lots to unpack.” “Okay.” You’re about to close the door, and he steps away. But in the last second, Jimin spins around before you can seal yourself inside. “Um, were you playing music?” You’re silent and you blink at him owlishly. “Sorry, I’ll try to keep it down.” Jimin nods. It’s not exactly what he meant — he wasn’t complaining. But he doesn’t linger to tell you so. He doesn’t want to make you feel tense and he feels like a creep enough. The last thing that Jimin wants is to be kicked out before he’s even fully settled in for being a complete weirdo. Typically he’s not this socially inept. But he accepts that he’s made a horrible first impression and shuts the door. Though as he leans on the smooth surface of it, he quirks his head to one side and his brows furrow. Strange. That voice sounded so familiar. And so tangible as if it were here and not a recording. But he doesn’t dwell, going on about his night. In the meanwhile, you try to sing quieter.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #jimin scenario #I AM SO EXCITED TO PRESENT TO YOU: THE COLOUR OF OUR VOICES #deadass I feel proud of this one #was sobbing when I wrote the finale #it's like a softer version of LaLa Land #except there's a lot more trial and tribulations #anyways it's gonna be great #I can guarantee it

569 notes · View notes

sukirichi · 3 years

Text

reckless [02.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. angst, toxic situations

✘ note. yes, feel free to scream at me in the asks. but like don’t worry, i promise there’s more to come and there’s more to happen! it’s going to get fluffier as we go hehehehe. ALSO, I can’t help but feel that Zayn’s “Let Me” speaks perfectly to CEO playboy Gojo. hmph.

one ✘ two ✘ three

One glance at the tall man beside you, and you would’ve thought he would pass out soon.

Satoru had been endlessly fidgety hours before the appointment. Flicking from music stations to another, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel or sighing at the sight of you calmly watching the city go by in a flash – it was clear he was restless. Judging from the dark circles he tried to conceal under a pair of shades, he probably hadn’t slept much last night as well.

Now that you were both inside the clinical room, with you laying back down on the reclined bed, belly exposed and all for him to marvel at, his knee hadn’t stopped bouncing. “Satoru, calm down. It’s just a doctor’s appointment.”

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants. “I’m just…excited yet nervous, you know? It feels so real now.”

Real didn’t begin to cover it. Although you masked your nervous quite well, you felt your stomach tighten when a woman came in. Her smile was gentle and comforting enough, talking you both through the process and spilling little fun facts about pregnancy. She applied a cool gel over your belly before turning to a screen, where mixed dots and waves of black and white blurred in front of your visions. Your eyes widened in awe, throat dry from the inability to speak. The baby had always felt real, but seeing it with your own two eyes, a small figure barely even a comprehensible shape in the screen, you couldn’t help but tear up a little.

“That’s mine?” Satoru breathed out, absentmindedly looping his hands through yours. It made you stiffen for a quick second, but your attention was quickly pulled back to the sonogram. “We made that?”

Your heart clenched at his words.

He sounded so happy – like all his dreams came true and you’d just given him a gift that was beyond priceless. You supposed it really was; a baby was always a miracle and joy to have, but this child wasn’t made out of love. How could he have so much fondness for something he didn’t want in the first place?

“The baby is perfectly healthy. This pregnancy doesn’t seem like a high-risk one, but it’s too early to tell so we’ll keep checking in on you,” the doctor pushed her glasses back to her nose, the sound of her cool voice pulling you back from a dangerous path of self-doubt and wariness. “Do you guys want to know the gender?”

Glancing at Satoru, you shook your head. It was amusing that you didn’t need to share words before he got the meaning behind one look, and he squeezed your hand as if to say he understood.

“I’d like that to be more of a surprise. Thank you, doctor.”

“Congratulations on being a father, Sir,” she bowed, and it occurred to you just now she was probably a family doctor. Satoru did end up keeping his promise that your pregnancy be kept private for a while. This little detail made you turn to him with shock written all over your face, though his attention was centred in on the swirling monochrome colours on the screen. Whether the doctor noticed the brewing tension between you two or not, you were still gad when they bowed once more to excuse themselves. “I’ll leave you two to talk now.”

The moment she was gone, you sat up and pushed your blouse down. Satoru’s demeanour had changed as well. His smile was wiped from his face, replaced only by a slight downturn of his lips.

Sighing, you swung your legs over the bed, not minding one bit that he was inches away from resting his chin onto your thighs. “Is there something you’re not telling me? You’ve been so worried since we got here.”

Satoru winced.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Even if you aren’t, it’s not that hard to see through you,” you spoke gently, a spirit possessing you because there would’ve been no other logical reason on why you placed a palm over his. Satoru’s hands were warm and large as he cupped your knee, tracing little patterns over your jeans as he kept his gaze lowered to the floor. It was an odd sight to see; that the Gojo Satoru refused to look a woman in the eye. “Tell me. What’s wrong?”

Satoru’s sigh is painfully drawn out, though his chuckles took the brunt.

“I don’t know what to do – how to be a father, I mean. Don’t you ever get worried…that maybe we might fuck up and ruin someone’s life?”

“Hey,” you cupped his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eyes – which you really wished he didn’t, because you’d never seen such azure this up close before. It was no secret that his eyes alone stole the hearts of people, but you had to remind yourself he broke them as well, so that you pulled away right before he got too close for comfort. It wasn’t what he needed anyway. Satoru simply required reassurance, so you opted for an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Weren’t you the one telling me the other day we’ll work it out?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, a smile lighting up his features once more. “Are you feeling good? There’s someplace I want to take you, as a celebration for our healthy baby.”

You pursed your lips. As much as you appreciated his enthusiasm, this ‘celebration’ didn’t sound like a good idea. You’ve made mistakes before and now you lived the consequence of it; being reckless was outdated. Caution, wariness, and space were the top three perfect recipes for the complete opposite of a disaster.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Why not?” he challenged, taking your hand in his as he guided you out the clinic. You made no comment on why he led you out the back where he’d parked his car, even going as far to bow for you as he opened your door. “Liven up a little, we got good news today! Plus, we didn’t both take a day for nothing. Come on, you’re going to have fun, I promise you!”

“And where would we go where people won’t recognize you?”

“Somewhere people are too lost in their own world to focus on others,” Satoru announced before sending you a side glance, smooth hands already on their way to rev the engine.

This wouldn’t go down well. Or at least that was what you wanted to believe, because his smile and excitement were too contagious that you couldn’t restrain the smile you wore.

“A carnival? Really? We’re too old for this.”

“We’re never too old for anything,” he insisted, placing his hands on your shoulders as he maneuvered from stall to stall. Everywhere around you, children and people of all ages milled by, laughter and screams that fading into the distance. One survey at the long, endless lines for the rides and crowded spaces, you grimaced, feeling an uncomfortable weight resting on your shoulders that was beyond Satoru’s hands. “Aw, come on, don’t be such a bore. Day offs like these are rare and think about the baby! Don’t you think they would’ve wanted us to get a long?”

“You’re just using the baby as an excuse to have fun.”

Of course he would – Gojo Satoru was like a man-child. Whether it was someone randomly bringing donuts or puppies into the office, he easily lit up like a firework, seemingly finding joy in every little thing. Being stuck in the office and forced to work his ass off under your supervision must’ve taken a toll on him too.

Add on the fact he hadn’t gone out on dates or parties ever since he found out he was going to be a dad, the desperation to go out and do something was written all over his face.

Satoru pouted. “That’s mean. Take that back.”

“No.”

“And I’m the childish one here?” he snickered. You merely rolled your eyes at him and gave in; too much time spent working and not enough time relaxing (not that being a carnival was your definition or relaxation, but alas, Satoru was dragging you around everywhere like always) wouldn’t be good for the baby.

“You see that bear over there? I’m going to win that for you. It could be my first ever present for our baby.”

There was no stopping him. You didn’t want to, either, because you just stood there, arms crossed against your chest as you let him do whatever he pleased. A literal man-child, a youthful soul stuck in an irritatingly attractive man’s body – these were the thoughts that ran through your head while Satoru kept swinging his arm back and forth. He chose a stall where you had to knock down stacks of cans down with one set of three balls, all because he wanted to win a bear. You would really rather go home than watch him fail four times now, but he wasn’t giving up, only flexing his shoulders before gesturing to the young man.

“Hey man, three more balls please.”

Nothing was funny about it at all. Watching your boss fail miserably even after ten tries shouldn’t have been so hilarious, yet sweat was dripping all over his face and his patience was hanging on a loose thread that you were giggling before you knew it.

His usual confident bravado began to tear down bit by bit, his face flushed from the sounds of your teasing.

“Satoru, stop,” you laughed, “We’ve been here for twenty minutes and your wallet might as well be empty! You can just go buy a bear at the mall.”

“You’re too functional. Where would be the meaning behind it if I just bought a random bear?” he huffed, pushing the sleeves of his denim jacket up to his elbows. Determined now more than ever, he even stretched his long arms side to the side with a shake of his hips. You could tell the young man manning the stall was hiding his amusement by whistling to himself, but Satoru really was such a ridiculous sight you couldn’t blame him. “No, I’m going to get that for you, then I’ll brag to my baby how cool their dad was when he knocked those cans down.”

“You mean, if you knock those cans down.”

His shoulders deflated. “Support me a little bit, will you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, it might just inflate your ego and you’ll be too distracted by yourself to ever actually knock those cans down,” He threw a ball with a force so strong it hit the curtain above the cans, and it bounced back somewhere below the tables. It didn’t even touch the can by a smidge, and you snorted. “See what I mean?”

Expecting that Satoru would take insult to heart (as his ego was easily wounded, this much you knew when he refused to talk to anyone at the office for a whole day because one of his directors forgot his name) you smirked at him, but that smirk immediately dropped when he grinned back at you. He was no longer wimpy like before, an aura of confidence brimming from him. “That’s like the second time you’ve told me I was distracting,” he mused, leaving you baffled because he was right. “On the contrary, I think you’rea lot more distracting, so I take that back. Just stand there and watch me win.”

“Okay,” you drawled out in faux disinterest, thankful for the corny carnival music and chatter from the crowd that he couldn’t hear your poor beating heart.

You were too focused on pretending to be unbothered by him that you failed to see how the cans were knocked down. The counter guy was already picking them up as Satoru pumped his fists in the air, way too much like a child high on sugar.

Was this really the father of your baby?

“I won! I fucking won! That huge brown bear, please!”Satoru’s smile from holding the bear that was half his size couldn’t even compare to the city lights and sparklers. Even his eyes were lit up in joy as he skipped back to you, happily waving the doe-eyed bear in front of you. At your lack of reaction, he sighed before jutting his cheek out to you. “No congratulations kiss?”

“How about a slap?”

“Kinky,” he teased, sending your brain to overheat when he tapped his chin in thought. “Well, you did make my back bleed so I kind of got the idea you’re sort of extreme in bed – ow! Would you please stop hitting me? I just won you a wonderful prize and your first reaction is to hit me! This arm is exhausted from swinging endlessly, you know.”

“Maybe if you aimed better, you wouldn’t have had to exhaust yourself. Like I said, you could’ve just bought a bear,” you scolded, raising your arm threateningly when he opened his mouth again. Idiot. “Give me that.”

Satoru effortlessly swung the bear until it was under your chins, his white lashes ethereal as he peeked at you through them. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath dusting on your cheeks, that same warmth that had been mixing with yours in a sloppy, heated kiss just weeks ago. “And who said I was letting you carry this?” he taunted, thoroughly enjoying how for once, you weren’t hitting him.“I’m supposed to wave this around proudly then place it in our baby’s room when we get home. Besides, your hand looks heavy already.”

“My hands? Wait, what do you mean our baby’s room?”

At your words and questioning gaze, Satoru did a quick turn, trying to use the bear as a shield.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you,” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I may or may not have had my parents’ guest room renovated as a baby room, although if you ask me, I think moving somewhere else would be much better. Raising a child in a penthouse doesn’t seem like such a great idea if you ask me,” opening your mouth to scold him, Satoru stopped you by placing a finger on your lips, noses grazing against each other. “Don’t scold me right now; I know that look on your face and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, okay? We can still decorate it ourselves. I just had the beds removed and the space cleaned out. Now stop over thinking and let me help you with your problem.”

You pushed his face away for the sake of your heart. In fact, you should be paid for your acting skills for looking so unaffected.

“What problem?”

“Your hands look heavy,” he beamed, long fingers looping through yours as he swayed them side to side. “So let me carry it for you.”

“Satoru, I—”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he blinked innocently while surrendering his free hand, “I’m not doing this for you, it’s for the baby. Did you know oxytocin is released and makes you feel good and reduces pain, maybe even stress? We can pump your oxytocin levels through touch. It also lowers your blood pressure, and we want you at your happiest and healthiest for this pregnancy, right?”

“Since when were you an expert on this?”

“Since I found out I’m becoming a dad,” his words struck you speechless, mouth pressed into a flat line as you stared him openly. You hadn’t mean to come off as rude in that moment; you were just trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words, to explore the depth in his eyes, but Satoru must’ve took it wrong as he cleared his throat, “I can let go if you really want me to.”

“N-no! It’s fine…can we move? We’ve been standing here for ten minutes now,” Embarrassed, you pointed to the closest thing in your sight – a photo booth. “How about there? That looks fun.”

Satoru followed where your arm was pointed, laughing when a couple exited the red curtains while giggling amongst themselves. The guy even leaned down to steal a long kiss from his lover, and if you were embarrassed before, you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back again right now. “You know, if you wanted me to be stuck in a cramped space next to you, you could’ve just said so. I didn’t bring the limo with me, but the Audi could be pretty small for us, I guess…”

You hissed at him in warning, “God, you never shut up do you?”

“It made you smile.”

“I wasn’t smiling!”

“Sure, mommy, whatever you say,” bumping his hip with yours, Satoru led you inside the cube. There were a plethora of filters to choose from; ranging from heart frames and ones that placed shades on your face. Not really thinking of what to pick, you reached out to press the frog hats one, but Satoru was swatting your hands away for the effect with heart emojis everywhere. “This is cute. We can show this to our baby once they’re born.”

“They won’t really know what a Polaroid is, Satoru.”

“It’s still sentimental!” he grumbled before clicking the camera icon, a huge smile already on his face until he saw you squished on the other side of the booth. Only one side of your ear could be seen, and Satoru furrowed his brows at you. “Come closer, you’ll be cropped from the frame.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Jesus, Y/N, don’t act shy now, I already fucked a baby into you,” mouth falling open at the vulgarity of his words, Satoru took the chance to drag you beside him. “Relax, you’re always so stiff. Our baby might come out frowning if you keep huffing like that.”

“You’re too close for comfort.”

“My apologies, I’ll try not to be included in the photo when you’re the one who suggested this in the first place,” he muttered playfully, booping your nose before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He was close, too close, that his musky perfume filled the close space. You wanted to lean closer to his warmth and sturdiness of his broad shoulders; his mere presence bringing about a sense of tranquillity despite your words. You told yourself it shouldn’t be too bad to lean into him for just a little while, absentmindedly following him as he cheers, “Smile!”

One photo turned into two, and Satoru ended up inserting a few more bills into the slot to take more. He tried out as many filters as he wanted, acting as if you two had been long time friends from how easy it was for him to be around you like that.

You supposed it came from his heavy experience with women. You were so unlike; while he was open to touch and didn’t care too much about space, you craved it deliriously.

It was obvious none of this meant anything to Satoru. You were probably just another woman in his life, with the exception that you had a kid, but you couldn’t mean something more. If anything, he treated you more like an old friend than a lover. He’d said it himself before that you weren’t his type and you didn’t mind, so why did it hurt the longer you mulled about it? Sure, you may not be as attractive or luxurious as his previous lovers, but did you really not even have charismatic pull? Is it because you weren’t his type that he was so casual with you, while you on the other hand, felt like you would lose your mind at every little thing he did?

You watched as Satoru pulled out his wallet and kept the Polaroid of you both grinning at the camera, forming a silly heart shape with your hands per his request. It was silly and platonic – yet the gesture confused you to no end.

“Why’d you do that?”

Satoru’s hand paused. “Am I not allowed to…?”

“We’re not lovers. You can’t just put a photo of us in your wallet.”

As if to prove a point, Satoru pulled out more photos of his wallet and showed it to you. There were several more wallet-sized photos, mostly of his white cat with black shades, another of him and his best friend, Shoko, and the last photo was of him skiing. They were all placed in his wallet along with a small, faded out photograph of what seemed to be his parents from the younger days. You couldn’t understand why he was showing you this, much less how patient he was as he smiled softly at you. “It’s memorabilia. I keep photos of everyone I care about everywhere with me,” he said, pocketing his wallet back before gazing up at the night sky. “I like to think we’re friends, at least. We’re definitely not just boss and employee anymore.”

Then what are we?

There were so many things you wanted to ask. You always knew he was always this overly friendly and nice, but what did make you? What did a friend mean to him? Other than Shoko, who was his lesbian friend who was also the company’s resident doctor, you’d never seen him be platonic with another female before.

The realization made your mood drop.

Maybe you were right. He probably didn’t even see you as a woman, but what did it matter? You didn’t like him. You shouldn’tlike him. Even if he had no intentions of wooing you, Gojo Satoru was far too appealing for his own good. Being around him was dangerous for your heart.

“Wanna ride the ferris wheel? The night city always looks beautiful.”

He was just your boss...and you were just a friend. Things were going to be alright as long as no feelings were involved. You survived seven years of working with him with not a single moment where your heart fluttered when he spoke your name; a baby made between you shouldn’t change anything now. At the end of the day, you were both only doing this out of responsibility. Satoru was trying his best to become a supportive co-parent to you, and that was all it ever would be. Strictly business – purely professional – as it always had been and always will be.

Foolish girl, you could hear a voice whisper at the back of your head, don’t get too lost in his eyes.

“Y/N, are you tired? Do you want to go home now? We can just order dinner to be delivered if you’re exhausted,” Satoru tugged at your sleeve to get your attention, and you chuckled awkwardly, not meaning to have spaced out the whole time. Worry was written all over his face from the way his brows dipped, stunning blue eyes darkening like the night sky you both made memories under.

Don’t look at me like that...

“Are you okay? Do you wanna go home?”

“Yeah,” you chirped far too brightly than you would’ve liked. Right now, it was more of a mission of fake it til you make it. You would just have to keep exerting the same amount of effort into making this work for the baby’s sake. And if that meant pushing aside any budding desire for this to last any longer to focus on your ‘friendship’, then you would do it. Taking Satoru’s hand for the first time since the baby ordeal, you flashed him a genuine smile. “The ferris wheel sounds nice. Let’s do some sightseeing before the night ends.”

Neither of you speak inside the cab. Beautiful the night was as the city shone into awakening illumination beneath you, comforting you with the thought that in the grand scheme of it all, you were small. Insignificant. That somehow everything you worried about wouldn’t matter when there was a much bigger world out there, and you were but a fickle dot in the middle of its entirety. But that was you, and Gojo lived in a much different world than you did. For somewhere in the city, you could recognize several of the sky towers, buildings, and establishments owned by his family. He mattered in the grand scheme; you were a small factor in his world.

Glancing back at the man who’d been silent the whole ride, you smiled upon seeing that he was doing the same. Satoru was practically bouncing in his seat as he snapped several photos of the city, mumbling something about he’d never seen this view before.

He was so innocent yet so out there, igniting within you an urge to take care of him and wanting to be taken care of by him.

You’d already accepted that you may just never have him that way. That small, fleeting crush was like a butterfly – pretty look at, but damn near impossible to catch. You’d already stopped crying yourself to sleep over the new changes brought about in your body, that in a few months’ time, you’d look back into everything and see that everything had changed. The mistakes you made that night were still something you regretted because you wished you could’ve done better, but seeing him right in front of you now, there was only gratefulness blooming within. Grateful that he was right by your side, grateful that at least the father of your child was more than capable of giving them a comfortable life, grateful that he didn’t push you away like you expected.

Acting more on impulse than logic, you leaned over to press your lips on his cheek.“Thank you,” you mumbled, eyes closed as you let your lips stay there for a few more seconds.

His skin was warm underneath your touch, and when you opened your eyes, Satoru was gazing up at you with stars twinkling in the vast galaxy he called his eyes. You smiled at his reaction, watching as he reached a palm out to caress that spot your lips had landed.“For what?”

“For everything,” you crumbled,“You’re not a bad person, Satoru, I know that,” with shuddered breaths, tears sprung at the back of your eyes again. “I’m sorry for being so difficult. I just need time to adjust to…well, all of this.” Your voice cracked at the last sentence and you were crying before you knew it, face hidden behind your palms in fear he’d look at you differently. In his eyes, you were always his stoic secretary who didn’t even bat an eye when people gave you backlash after Satoru hired you despite the lack of a college degree.

This all felt new – to cry, to trust, to rely on someone – and there was a flurry of emotions you couldn’t quite place yet.

Scooping you into his arms, Satoru patted your back as your cries grew louder. “Take all the time you need. We don’t have to rush into anything at all.”

In the harsh world of conglomerates where the laws of business blurred thinner and thinner with each day, it was hard to believe that not rushing into anything would be possible. It was always a flurry of hurried phone calls, frantic preparations for emergency meetings, anxiety over presenting new proposals and hoping that your superiors would sign your documents so you could go about your way. Time was as imperative as money was to them, but Satoru had proved he could be beyond that.

From the moment you met him, he never treated time as if it was something that slipped through his fingertips. He enjoyed every second he had of his life, and perhaps that was why you hated him so much in the first place.

You thought he took everything for granted, when in reality, all he did was bask in the little things life offered.

This much, at least, you trusted him with. If he said there would be no need to rush and you could both take it slow, he meant it. Around him, time felt more like a secret whisper than a treasure you both had to seize to protect. The night drifted off until it was already midnight and the crew was ushering all visitors out. You and Satoru made it home safely and quietly, hands linked together as if it was the most natural thing ever. No rush, you kept telling yourself, and you plopped down on the couch heavily as you let your muscles relax from such a long, eventful day.

You stayed there for a solid minute or so when you felt warm hands take your heels off. Opening your eyes, Satoru kneeled before you, his fingers expertly rubbing and pushing against the sore muscles of your feet. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Your feet must be tired from all that walking,” he mumbled, looking up briefly to meet your eyes and tease your shoulder back. “Lean back for me. I’ll take care of you.”

Judging by the sentiment behind his smile, you figured it wouldn’t be harmful to enjoy this at least once. You’ve never gotten foot massages before but his hands kneading yours felt heavenly. You knew from experience beforehand that Satoru was quite godly when it came to the skills and magic his fingers brought, though this one was on a different level, and you were sinking deeper into the couch from the bliss. He was right; you were tired, and if having your boss massage you like this every night after dragging you wherever he pleased, then you wouldn’t complain.

The ringing of your phone made you sit up abruptly, surprising Satoru whose head you almost knocked into. “Sorry,” you croaked out sheepishly, “It’s my dad. I need to take this.”

“Do you need me to leave you alone?”

“Uh, no, you’re fine.”

Satoru gestured to your foot as you took the call, mouthing, “Should I continue?”

“Yes, please,” you answered back, palm pressed over the mic before you answered. “Hey, Dad!” Your father greeted you back with much enthusiasm, his energy heard even by Satoru who sent you small smiles and curious glances every now and then. A part of you wanted to ask if he was fine kneeling on the floor like that, but his knees were on the fur carpet anyway that it shouldn’t hurt him. He extended your leg and trailed up your calves, pulling a soft moan from you when he kneaded the flesh and rid it of its knots. His ministrations distracted you until you were nodding absentmindedly to your Dad every now and then, not really paying attention to what he was saying.

Then the call ended, and his last words kept ringing back into your head ominously. Satoru took quick notice of this as he tapped your knee, bringing your attention back to him. “Is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I...” you started, helplessly fumbling around Satoru. “My dad is in Tokyo. He said he wants to have dinner with me.”

“You don’t look particularly happy about that. Do you not want to meet your father?”

“I do but...”

“But?”

“I have to tell him about this,” you shivered, refracting your legs back to the couch until his touch disappeared from your skin. For a moment, you had the urge to crawl back to his heat, but you were restless, agitated. “About us. He’s going to want to meet you and I don’t want to hide the pregnancy from him either,” Satoru remained unmoving as you rambled, and you hid your face behind your arms again as you remembered the rules you asked him to follow. “Listen, I’m sorry if I sound unfair right now, I know I said I didn’t want anyone else knowing—”

Warm lips brushed over your knuckles, large hands peeling your wrists to reveal your face. “Hey, it’s fine. He’s family and you can tell him. It’s not like your Dad would ruin your image or something like you expected to happen.”

“He won’t but...” you frowned, “My dad isn’t going to like this. I can’t guarantee he’ll be civil the whole time, especially towards you.”

“You told him about me?”

“A few years ago, yeah, when I still couldn’t tolerate you.”

“So you can tolerate me now?”

“Only a little bit,” you corrected, pushing his hands away as you opened your phone to check your schedule. It was mostly Satoru’s schedule, truth be told, but you were free for the most part tomorrow. Satoru could just longue back in his office while you clocked out early to meet your dad. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. On second thought, he doesn’t have to know at all. I’m only a few weeks in and it’s not like he’ll notice—”

“Y/N,” Satoru interrupted you, rudely snatching his phone from your shaking fingers. You would’ve scolded him had he not sounded so worried. “I did promise I would take responsibility for you, right? I want to meet your dad and introduce myself properly. As a father-to-be, I think I can somewhat understand that he might react strongly to this, but I also need to reassure him you’re in safe hands,” taking your hand in his, Satoru leaned into your palm, the smile he wore way too charming than what your heart could handle. “As long as you’re okay with it, I would like to meet him.”

“I’m sorry if he does something stupid.”

“Don’t be,” he reassured with a chuckle. “I’m sure everything will go well.”

It didn’t go well. Your father wasn’t throwing a fit or causing a scene like you originally feared, but the current situation wasn’t any better either. He looked like he was on the verge of tearing Satoru’s head apart, his grip on the bread knife so tight his knuckles flashed white. Your father was the literal definition of unpredictable and out of nervousness, you held Satoru’s hand under the table for comfort.

In complete opposition of yours, Satoru handled it with class and composure. His head was ducked down in respect, making sure to be curt and precise in counters to your father’s harsh accusations.

“I’m really sorry for everything, Sir.”

“Did you ruin my daughter’s life?”

Satoru finally tilted his head back up to look your father in the eye, both your hands turning cold and sweaty in between the seats. “Pardon?”

“I asked if you ruined my daughter’s life by getting her pregnant.”

“I would never intend for that to happen, Sir,” Satoru straightened up. From your perspective, he looked every bit the man parents would want their children to be with – handsome, elegant, educated, polite, respectful and well-off – but your father was no ordinary parent. He sized Satoru up like a predator hunting his prey even as the latter acted cool about it. “Granted, it was an accident and neither of us are prepared for this, but I promise I’ll take care of her. I take responsibility as the father and you have nothing to worry about.”

Your dad slammed his palms down on the table, the loud smack catching the attention of nearby tables. “How dare you tell me I have nothing to worry about?”

“Dad, please don’t do this.”

“No, he needs to know,” he snapped. Unable to help it, you groaned inwardly and scooted closer to Satoru, knowing where this was leading. “I lost her mother right after she was born; raised her by myself when I was barely out from high school. Rich men like you may never understand the struggles of taking care of a baby all by yourself, but I did everything I could to make sure she grew up well. My daughter had a happy, comfortable life. When she told me she wanted to follow her dreams in Tokyo, I supported her, and then you go take everything away from her because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself? You dare defile her like that?”

“Dad!” you roared, clutching Satoru’s hand who’d gone limp. “It was equally my responsibility as it is his! I wanted this; we both got carried away but we’re doing our best, so please stop being difficult to us.”

“You wanted this?” he laughed dryly, “A child with this man you kept moaning to me about; the same man who went to clubs every night while he left you all by yourself to work, to clean up his mess from him? You wanted him?”

“Dad,” you gritted your teeth, nails sinking down onto your thigh. Satoru remained silent between you both, although you could feel his burning gaze penetrating through the back of your skull. “It’s both our mistake. But this child...we don’t see it as that. We like to view it as a blessing. It may be true we harbour no affection for one another, but we want to be good parents. That’s all you need to know and I find no reason to explain myself to you. If you have nothing else to say, you can go back home. I’ll pay for your ride,” slamming down a few bills his way, you glared at your father, who shrunk back at the anger radiating off of you. “You’re not welcome here, Dad. Just go back home.”

“I’m just worried for you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“I never said you were,” he sighed, rubbing the sides of his temples. “But he just took all your opportunities away from you! What about your dreams? What about your plan of having your own career once you have enough experience? What about—”

“Are you implying that because I’m pregnant, suddenly I’m not qualified to fulfil my goals?”

“Sir,” Satoru cut you off, releasing your hands as he leaned forwards on the table, becoming more and more like the CEO he was trained to be – all authority and gentle command that won the hearts of multiple investors. “I assure you that I won’t be holding your daughter back from the things she wants to achieve. As her co-parent, I’m perfectly capable of supporting her in the dreams she wishes to achieve. I’ve worked with her for years; I know she can reach for the stars if she wanted.”

Your mind blanked.

“Young man, don’t talk to me as if you know my daughter better than I do,” your father scorned, “I’m not questioning your capability to support her, but what about your credibility? How can you assure me you’ll really be there for her? How can you assure me you won’t leave my daughter stranded in the middle of nowhere? How can you assure me you can protect her from the harsh criticism of society? Money can’t provide nor does it solve anything,” your father copied his gesture by leaning forward, but it was to poke Satoru’s chest. “From what I’ve heard about you, I suppose you understand perfectly well why I don’t trust you.”

“Sir, I do plan on marrying your daughter and to give her the life she deserves,” Satoru confessed, effectively stealing from you the ability to speak as he glimpsed your way. “If she lets me.”

“You’ll marry her? Be faithful to her as your wife and have a family? Are you sure you can do that?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m highly confident I can. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Then that’s all I need to know,” your father leaned back in your seat, arms crossed against his chest and a stern expression on his face. “And if I find out you hurt or make my daughter cry in any way, I’ll beat up that pretty face of yours. I have two more sons that’re willing to do the same, if you don’t watch your actions.”

Satoru beamed at your father’s ‘approval.’ “I’ll face any consequence if I fall short on my duties, Sir, but I assure you, it will never have come to that.”

“So we’ve come to an agreement?”

The two men linked and shook hands across the table, completely disregarding the fact you were right beside him. You were beyond appalled, but mostly hurt that you’d been reduced to this way. And they were unaware of it, too, sickening and satisfied yet tense smiles were masked on their faces as they decided your future.

You stood up and left the restaurant.

You kept walking as fast as you could in the cold night, hands shoved into the coat of your pockets. Thousands of pin needles pricked at your heart and your skin the more you replayed the memory in your head. How stupid were you to think that Satoru would be different? And marriage? Was he serious? It all made you sick to the core to the point you wanted to throw up and disappear, until a heavy set of footsteps echoed behind you and tugged your wrist.

“Y/N, wait!” Satoru panted, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “What’s wrong with you? You just up and left—”

“Seriously, Satoru, you’re asking me that?” your face fell flat at his cluelessness, “What’s wrong with you? You men are sickening; planning my entire future like that right in front of me as if I don’t have a say in what I want. None of you asked if I’m okay with this. You really went ahead deciding we’ll get married when I told you already, I don’t want to marry you and I never will!”

Satoru brushed a hand over his hair, a hand on his hip. You could tell his patience was being tested – after being verbally harassed by your father and now with you pushing back in the same heat, it was only a matter of time before he lost his cool. Surprisingly enough, however, his voice remained levelled as he sighed. “What did you expect me to do back there? Tell your father that we’re just going to be roommates and raise a child together as if we’re not already family?” he defended, words slow and pronounced with a hint of hurt behind them. “I respect you and I truly do want to be with you, that’s why I wanted us to get married.”

“You respect me?” you laughed incredulously, “Are you hearing yourself right now? No person respects another by deciding what happens to my life without my consent!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask, okay? I apologize for it and I acknowledge my mistake that I didn’t give you much of a choice. Me being cornered and pressured isn’t a good excuse, but I wasn’t lying when I said I want to take care of you and—”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you want to be with me?” you demanded, “Why do you want to take care of me so badly? How did you even take this so well? You weren’t even that angry when I told you I was pregnant.”

Satoru paled. “Was I supposed to be? Should I have pushed you away and kicked you out my life? Is that what you wanted me to do, or is that what you expected from me, considering you’ve made it extremely clear I’m nothing but your airheaded boss and a man who always wants his dick wet, right?” the sting of his words pricked you both – you with your guilt, and him with his pride crushed. But he didn’t let on, didn’t waver and didn’t match your anger as his chest shook with impatience. “I’m trying to be good to you; I want to be good for you and the baby because despite what you think of me, I’m not the devil the tabloids make me out to be. I sleep around, yeah, but I wouldn’t go so far to turn someone away especially when I know I’m supposed to be there.”

“Satoru, if you’re only doing this out of obligation, you can be a good father without marrying me. Marriage is not a requirement; I don’t care what people say that I got pregnant without getting married. That’s the least of my concern, I just want the baby to grow up healthy but I don’t want to be involved with you.”

With how stunned Satoru looked, one would’ve thought you slapped him right in the face. That mere sight of seeing your boss tear his walls down in front of you almost made you feel bad, but you had to be strong.

You had to be firm with what you stood for.

“I really don’t want to be with you, Satoru. I’m so sorry.”

“What do you want me to do?” his voice cracked, begging and pleading as he stood before you, looking every bit of a man lost in uncharted territory. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/N. One moment, you’re telling me you want me to be a good father, and then the next you’re pushing me away. People are so sure that I’m a man who can never settle down because they believe I have commitment issues, but I’m telling you I can commit to you right now,” he held your hand, rubbing some of his warmth at your comparably cold ones. You didn’t fail to notice that he was trembling, but what about what you couldn’t decipher. “Are you really sure I’m the one here who isn’t capable of that? What are you so scared of that you can’t trust me?”

“Because you’re you! Because you’re a fucking asshole who’s been treating me like I’m an overworking machine and always expects me to undo your shit for you! Because you make me sick and I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t know what love means!” Exploded. You exploded. “I regret everything that happened between us that night. No, in fact, I regret ever meeting you at all.”

Satoru took a step back.

All the light and joy that fit so perfectly with him had now disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” he demurred, “I’m sorry that I’d been so repulsive that you’ve felt miserable for all this time. I’m sorry I haven’t been a decent boss and I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you.”

“Gojo, stop. Stop doing that; stop apologizing!”

“Then tell me what you want me to do,” he barked desperately. “Because I can’t read your mind and I just want to be good for you.”

“What if I don’t want you to? I don’t want you to be good to me, I don’t want you to care about me. Be there for the baby, but don’t involve yourself too much in my personal life. Stop asking me to marry you because you and I would never work out. We’re impossible, okay?”

“How do you know we’ll never work out when we haven’t even tried?” he pushed, “You never even gave me a chance.”

“You’re not worth that chance.”

If someone could receive an award for effortlessly trampling over someone repeatedly, you would’ve been crowned winner a long time ago. You had no idea what came over you as you spat all those hurtful words to Satoru, but did your words bear no truth? The fact that he no longer defended himself meant he also knew that he wasn’t worth it – that he wasn’t someone to be trusted. It wasn’t that you were completely unfair too; of course you considered it. Weeks of living under the same roof as him and you most definitely considered it. Say you did get married and became a real family – what then? It wasn’t a marriage out of love, but rather out of responsibility and obligation.

As much as you loved your child, you couldn’t imagine throwing away your future and living miserable for the rest of your life like that.

A life built on lies wasn’t a life worth living.

“I would never hurt you.”

Your heart cracked. After everything you said, after all your efforts to keep him away from your own safety, after all the hurtful things you’ve done to him, and he was still apologizing? Why did he have to make it so hard to let go? You were tired, so tired that you could no longer refrain your lip from quivering as tears caked your face.

“Gojo, please, don’t—”

“So if me stepping away from your life is what would really make you happy, then I’ll respect it. But there’s one thing I have to ask,” Satoru swiped a thumb under your eye to catch the tear. His smile was forlorn, his touch cold and words melancholic. “Do you want the baby? Do you...want to keep the baby and be a mother? You don’t have to do anything for me, I just want to know if the mother of my child even wants to be one. And please be honest, because everything you say right now are words that I’ll mark seriously.”

The word left your mouth before you could stop it.

“No.”

“No what?”

“I don’t want to be a mother,” you admitted, hands trailing over your belly. It felt like you were betraying your own child, but you hadn’t planned this. “I’m too young, Satoru, I-I’m not ready for this. With you there beside me or not, I really don’t want this.”

“Then,” he cleared his throat, turning his head to the side to catch a moment. You swore you saw his eyes shine under the city lights with tears, but it was gone so soon that you might’ve just fooled yourself with it. Once he deemed himself ready to talk, Satoru took a deep breath. “Do I have your consent that once the baby is born...it’ll be under my care? Would you prefer to reach your own dreams, then? You’ll never have to be a part of the Gojo family if it’s really not what you want, even though I could support you as much as you need me to.”

Your eyes widened at his proposition. “You’ll take care of our baby?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Can I...can I visit them, at least, once in a while?” It was more than just your heart that broke that night. There was no telling whether you’d hurt yourself in the long run with this decision. It was no easy choice to make – to actively pursue your dreams somewhere else more than being a mother. You wanted to do your best, of course you did, but it wasn’t that easy. Gojo didn’t have to tell you for you to understand that once you married him, you’d be expected to run the business with him and be involved in his family and their dramas. Now that wasn’t a life you wanted.

“You’re free to visit them whenever,” he promised, voice fading even lower into the background. “So is this it? We’ll just be living under the same roof until the baby is born and once they’re here...”

“We’ll part ways.”

“We’ll part ways,” he nodded in agreement, sniffling for a brief second before fixing his tie. The Gojo Satoru you got to know for a few weeks had now disappeared. Not even the goofy boss you spent seven years with could be found in the coldness of his eyes, almost as if he’d put up such impenetrable walls around him and nothing could pass through. The sudden shift in aura made your heart clench as he offered his hand to shake. “Okay. Let’s stay professional until then?”

“Yeah, Sir, I can do that,” your hands shook as you enclosed it around his, but now all the warmth had disappeared – from his eyes, his touch, his soul. It hurt, but this was necessary. It was what felt right. “Thank you – for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Anything for you and the baby,” Satoru proclaimed, perplexing you both when he suddenly pulled you in his arms. Just like that, the dam broke, and you were staining his precious suit before you could stop it. His arms rubbed up and down your back the longer he held you there, almost like a final moment to lean on one another before you had to say goodbye eventually. Beneath your palm, his heart beat exuberantly loud, so much so that you might’ve heard the prayers it whispered. “Stop crying now. The baby might feel sad too. We’ll both be alright – we just have to get through this.”

taglist OPEN: @sixeyesgojo @bongofrito @7tsumurai @aphnyoturkey @stuckindreamland06 @dogsarenyspiritanimal @thebeardedmoon @lildreamer93 @pizzaspirits @q-the-rockaholic @rogueofbullshit @ladywaifuuwrites @flochsgirl @hamsa-mage @sonic-and-songs @vsvwi @misslovingpearl | bolded users can’t be tagged

2K notes · View notes

theshelbyclan · 3 years

Text

Happy Birthday!

Summary: It’s your birthday! And the Shelby brothers refuse to let another one of their baby sister’s birthday go by without some proper celebrating.

(Gif by @benson-shelby) A/N: It’s actually my birthday today, but due to quarantine I can’t really celebrate it with anyone. So I decided to celebrate with the Shelby’s! Via this little fic, purely self-indulgent, to cheer myself up and to remember some great birthdays I had in the past ;) Set in season 1, you’re just a few years younger than John. Words: 1710 *** “John, get her tea.” “I thought you had the tea.” “Well, then get the milk!” urgent whispers sounded in the hallway.

“I’m not your bloody maid, am I, Ada,” John spat not so quietly in return.

You were lying in bed, awake for hours already. This was the day you’d become a woman, or so Ada had said, but still, your siblings were bickering like little children. It brought a smile to your face. Another annoyed grumble, “Shhh, you’re going to wake her up!” “Am not,” he hissed, “I got your fucking milk, didn’t I!” “Oi!” another low voice joined in, “Ada, you really need to take a look at the toast.” “What about the toast, Arthur?” “Burned it,” he mumbled and you could hear John giggle softly in the dark. Ada sighed deeply, “For fucks sake, fine, I’ll do it. Wait here.” As the least subtle brothers in the world shuffled about in the hallway, you thought of your other birthdays. When you were little, they were celebrated with mum and everyone gathered. During the war, no one paid attention to birthdays any longer. And now, after the war, people tried to get their lives back on track. Only last week you’d made sure Finn had gotten a birthday he’d never forget. And now they tried to return the favour, obviously. Another few minutes and about a thousands curses passed, when they finally tiptoed into the room. Closing your eyes, you decided to play along. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Slowly you sat up and put on a groggy voice, “What are you doing in here?” “You are the worst actor ever, Y/N,” John grinned. “Am I?” you feigned innocence. Ada handed you a cup of tea as John plopped down onto bed next to you, “Did you hear about Arthur burning the toast then?” “I didn’t burn it,” he protested, “Only… blackened it a little.” Ada sent her eldest brother a look, “Polly’s making some more.” “Thanks for the tea,” you smiled and took a sip. Frowning, you narrowed your eyes at John. “You’re not a child anymore, Y/N!” he explained happily. “Move over,” Arthur shoved his brother aside and hugged you, “Happy birthday, sweetheart. This is for you, go on, open it.” Wrapped clumsily in some brown paper, he’d given you a revolver. And just as you were staring at it, Aunt Polly walked in with toast in a lovely shade of light brown. “A gun,” she demanded at once, “For fucks sake, Arthur.” “She needs it to protect herself, Pol,” he returned, and with pride in his voice he added, “And look: it’s a lady’s gun!” You turned the weapon over and saw it was small, delicate and laid in. Still, deadly as any weapon it was. “My turn,” John said, bouncing up and down in excitement almost. He handed Polly your tea and when she sniffed it, she said strictly, “Alright, who put whiskey in her morning tea?” No one answered. Quickly John handed you his present, hardly wrapped at all. Inside, you found a peaky cap, razorblades included. “Honestly, John…” Ada sighed, “She’s not a bloody Blinder!” “It’s all she’s ever wanted!” John called out, “Ever since she could walk, she tried to steal our caps, forever talking about wanting to join us wherever we went. Now she’s got her own!” “I love it,” you beamed up at him, “All I ever wanted.” “Alright,” Ada interrupted, “Clearly Y/N has too many brothers so it’s up to me to turn her into a lady.” “Please do,” Polly sighed, “Or the only interest she’ll ever have is weapons.” She knew her niece well, “That and gambling…” Your sister combed a few rebellious strands of hair behind your ear and planted a kiss on your cheek, “My darling little sister, soon you’ll learn you have more than one way of getting a man to do what you want.” You blinked a few times. This had always been more of Ada’s area of expertise. “She has no idea what you’re on about,” Polly smirked. “Thank God,” Arthur and John said in unison. “Sit still,” Ada demanded and she started applying the lipstick, “Sit. Still.” You furrowed your brows at the unfamiliar feeling, “Just your colour,” Ada commented happily, “As I thought.” “Not bad, that,” Arthur commented as he tilted his head. John leaned back and examined you as well, “Yeah, well, it’s red, isn’t it? I like red...” “Lipstick, a gun and razors,” Ada commented matter-of-factly, “the most deadly Shelby as of yet, Pol!” Aunt Polly rolled her eyes. “Happy birthday, Y/N!” eleven-year-old Finn came running to the room and jumped up into your arms, “You can have mine!” And he thrust his homemade catapult into your hands by form of a gift. “Another weapon, Pol,” Arthur eyed her, “Whatever will become of our innocent little sister?” Aunt Polly rubbed her nose and stammered a little, “Well, you know I don’t agree with you joining the family business… And God knows I’ve tried to rein you in just a little…” “But,” you interrupted, eyes glittering mischievously. “But…” she looked down, “I got you something for your shoes.” “Shoes?” you looked at the little black package she’d handed you. John suddenly burst out laughing in realisation, Arthur tried to hide his face in his hands and Ada commented dryly, “So, no better than us, eh, Pol.” Slowly you opened the package. Inside, you found a small black butterfly knife. *** A few hours had passed, with the regular nonsense that you cherished more than anything in the world. The family was gathered in the kitchen, everyone argued and life seemed perfect. But, one thing was missing. “Where’s Tommy?” you finally asked. “He had business,” Polly answered shortly, “No idea when he’ll be back.” You eyed John carefully, the brother you always turned to, “You think he forgot?” “Nah,” he tried cheering you up, “And you’re doing alright with us, right? Don’t need grumpy here…” You smiled, but still it hurt a little. And then, unexpectedly, Tommy waltzed into the house like it was any other day. “Y/N,” he announced himself coldly, “I need you to come with me.” “Why?” you challenged, “We’re just celebra-“ “I said now, Y/N. Family business.” Tommy interrupted in a low voice. “Thomas…” Aunt Polly started, but he held up a hand to silence her. Then he turned to you and repeated, “Come with me.” Begrudgingly, you got up and followed your brother. Looking back, Arthur motioned you to move it, which made you all the more suspicious. Without moving a muscle in his face, Tommy opened the door and said, “Go on.” You stepped outside and the second you did, applause resounded through the streets. In front of every house, people had gathered and they cheered like you were royalty. You couldn’t believe your eyes. “Tommy, did you…” you started. “He’s been at it all morning,” John explained as he crossed you in the doorway. A few moments later, the sound of hooves echoed in the streets. “What the hell is this,” you said at once. “This,” Tommy made a broad hand gesture, “Is a gypsy on a horse.” “And what, pray tell, is he doing in the middle of town?” You recognised Johnny Dogs now, who called out, “Little Y/N Shelby! Happy birthday, love! How the hell are you!” “I’m grand, Johnny,” you said numbly, “What’s with the horse?” He got off the horse and patted her flank, “She was a lovely filly as first. Sweet, but could never quite be tamed. Third filly out of Shadow, gorgeous beast.” “So, we decided,” Tommy mumbled as he lit a cigarette slowly, “she needed a rider who’d understand.” “What? Being a gorgeous beast?” your cynical reply came. Tommy rolled his eyes, “ ‘could never be tamed’ “. “Well, go on,” Johnny urged, smiling from ear to ear, “Up you get, little one!” Gingerly, you walked over to the horse. As you stroked her nose, Tommy handed you his cigarette and said softly, “What do you think of her?” “She’s an absolute beauty.” Tommy nodded, “Just like you,” but before you could send him a thankful look, he’d walked off again. And with the whole of Small Heath watching on, you climbed up on the horse. *** It was almost midnight when you woke up on a hard cold bench. A splitting headache washed over you as you tried to lift your head. You touched your temple and noticed some blood on your knuckles. Vaguely, you remembered being in the Garrison only a few hours before. You remembered Tommy had closed the betting den and the pub being packed with people, all celebrating your birthday. Memories of card games, songs and laughs came back to you. And the whiskey, so much whiskey. Slowly, you hoisted yourself up. As you looked around, you recognised the inside of the police cell. And you felt at your laced up boots: the knife was still safe inside. A sigh of relief escaped you. “How’s the head, eh?” Recognising your brother’s voice, you looked up without meeting his eye. “What did I do?” you asked finally. After a pause, Tommy replied, “Well, you celebrated your birthday alright.” “Did I have fun?” “Yes, I’d say so.” You frowned, “Why am I in here?” He cleared his throat, “It started with the barmaid and ended with you head-butting a policeman. Quite the Shelby night…” “Is that pride I hear?” Tommy didn’t answer, so you send him your best innocent smile. Eventually he asked, “Was it worth it?” “Hell yes,” you replied in a flash. “Little devil, celebrating her fucking birthday, eh?” “Admit it!” you pointed at him, “you areproud!”

And Thomas Shelby actually smiled through the bars, “Fucking right I am.” When he started to walk away, you shouted, “Oi! What about my bail?” “Paid it!” he called from a distance. “How am I supposed to get home?” you raised your voice even more. Tommy’s reply echoed, “Take your horse. She’s outside.” Myhorse? And just as a policeman with a head in bandages opened the door of your cell, you smiled to yourself: Best birthday ever.

Tommy left the station before you were released, but before he’d gone, he finally said:

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

***

Masterlist

2K notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 2 months

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

14K notes · View notes

sleepylixie · 3 years

Text

6k words, Romance (Fluff/Angst), Royal AU, Enemies to Lovers, Beware of swearing

Crown Prince! Lee Minho X Crown Princess- Fem! Reader

Dear SKZ, with love with @districtninewriters

Music: Dynasty by MIIA, Ashes by Celine Dion, Speechless by Naomi Scott, Reflection by Christina Aguilera, My Tragedy by Taeyeon

A/N: HELLO I have been so excited to post this EHEHEHEHEHEH- Do let me know what you think of this fic, I’d love to hear feedback !! ONTO THE FIC!

Three soft knocks sounded outside your bedroom doors, prompting you to sit up and slip out of bed in a heartbeat. Sleep hadn’t been your best friend for a while, but there was a sense of peace in the mornings that couldn’t be found otherwise that had you waking up early anyway. The birds had just begun chirping with the sunrise, the first stirrings of the maids and servants causing quiet rustles outside your door.

Pulling a satin robe over your nightdress, you opened the door and ushered Han Jisung into your bedroom, taking a seat at your vanity. “What brings you here so early, Ji?” “This came in for you a few hours ago,” your closest confidante and cousin murmured, pulling out something from inside his jacket pocket and handing it over to you.

You studied the envelope you were holding, flipping it over a few times in your hands. The quality of the paper was nicer than normal, almost like whatever was inside was more important than just a regular letter. You weren’t expecting anything, let alone important or special. But it was definitely your name on the front. In a forcefully familiar, neat cursive you had been trying all too hard to forget. “It’s from Eriant’s crown prince.” Jisung sidled closer to you, his eyes glazed in simultaneous sleep and concern. Your eyebrows arched in mild annoyance as you frowned. “I thought I told the Court of Letters to burn anything from this sender.” “It…came with another letter. From Eriant’s King. ” Your ears perked at the weary concern coating Jisung’s rounded syllables. Nodding at him to speak, you let your fingers trace over the handwriting, momentarily thrown off by the memories that came flooding back to you with the sender- “Your father the King had you betrothed to the Crown Prince to repay the war debts.”

An outraged screech escaped your lips before you could reel it in, your lips stretching back in a furious snarl. Jisung strolled to the tea table for some hot chocolate, absolutely unfazed; he was expecting things to be thrown so this was a rather tame reaction in retrospect. Your hands crumpled the letter despite the weight and thickness, the scrawl disappearing in your clenched hands.

“The day men stop controlling my life is the day I will wipe my hands clean of them all.” You hissed between deep breaths. “Who does he think he is? Does he think he can coerce me into taking him back with a sham of a marriage?”

Ripping open the crumpled envelope, you pulled out the single leaf of heavy paper parked with the Eriant crest and the Crown Prince’s coat of arms- so he’d truly deigned to write to you himself. Jisung leaned closer to read the words in the letter, eyes narrowed and then wide as they scanned the contents.

“Apologies for the inconvenience… Betrothed to be married…moving to the castle… IN 2 DAYS?!” Your voice creaked and broke at the pitch of your furious scream, Jisung flinching from his proximity to your anger.

So much for peaceful mornings.

“The Eriant party is here, Your Majesty.” The Prime Minister whispered to your father, your ears perking at the heads-up. So, it was time. Court was well underway, the sun reaching the highest point in the sky outside the arched windows, the air dotted with murmurs and conversation.

“Allow them in,” The King responded before his sharp gaze landed on you. “Behave in a manner befitting of the future queen, daughter.” A blank stare was what he got in return, an eyebrow arched in polite derision. Despite making it abundantly clear that you were not interested in marrying the Eriant prince and would do everything in your power to put the wedding to a standstill, your father had refused to oblige.

“You were courting the prince but a year ago, daughter,” your father shouted, the maids in the corner cowering from his dangerous timbre. But you stood tall, teeth bared in a snarl of your own. “Things change in a year, father!” You exclaimed, the first embers of desperate anger sparking alive. “He’s aimless, a man of pointless rebellion. I don’t wish to be shackled to a man like that, especially one who will be my king, Velairen’s King!” “The Crown Prince has reformed his past rebellious ways. I’m sure you of all people understand reform and poor judgement, daughter.” A wildfire quickly spread across your head, your heart, burning your cheeks and fingertips and spine- “You will NOT dangle my past over my head and I will NOT marry Lee Minho. He is below me.” There was not a chance in hell that you would allow himself to be wed to him, not after everything that happened-No. No- But your father had pulled himself to his full height, the king’s authority ringing darkly in the wood panels of his study like an unbreakable decree. “You do not have a choice.”

“What do you mean, father?” you sneered, taking no small amount of delight in the quicksilver fury that passed by his eyes. “I am but a gift mare in your lost game, am I not?”

“You-” “Presenting the Princes of Eriant and their travelling party.” The herald’s loud voice cut across your father’s likely vicious response and you turned away to face the Courtroom.

Your back straightened against the back of your throne, skirts rustling quietly as you crossed your legs, wayward thoughts eddying and swirling in your mind. There was no way you were letting this accursed wedding happen, damn your father and his decisions-

The large double doors loomed open at the other end of the courtroom, revealing a group of people dressed in the navy blue, brown and silver- Eriant’s colours. The party moved into the hall, walking down the centre aisle to you, stopping a few feet shy of the steps to the thrones. There was an oddly heavy silence that rung through the walls of the Courtroom, almost like the attendees were holding their breath.

At the head of the party stood two young men, both wearing identical smiles of sheer irreverence. One was taller than the other, his hair a mess of inky black against his forehead. Quicksilver eyes met yours for a split second before your gaze met the other- your heart skipped a beat.

He was exactly as you remembered, but somehow older. The same sharp nose and jaw, but his stance was no longer hunched and defensive- he stood tall, shoulders straight, chin up… like a king. He had dark chocolate coloured hair now, parted messily to reveal one part of his forehead. Charcoal eyes that twinkled exactly the way you remembered- no. You wouldn’t remember. Never again.

Princes Minho and Seungmin stepped in front of the party, bowing neatly to you and your father. “Welcome to Velairen, Princes.” “The pleasure is ours, Your Majesty.” Seungmin’s smile widened as he bowed his head to you. “And you, Your Highness. Your agreement to this union is a matter of great honour for Eriant.”

Your eyebrows knitted scornfully, a soft scoff escaping your lips before you could control it. However, the words that left you were light in their countenance, easy and amused and just the right amount of coy. “One would think I was marrying you, Prince Seungmin, and not the Heir apparent who is yet to speak for himself.” The court and the Eriant party dissolved into amicable laughter, and the silence was broken. A small smile curled your lips as Lee Minho’s eyes landed on you. You held his gaze, deliciously cold and unfamiliar. You would not appear weak, not in front of him. Never again. “Heir apparent and your future queen’s betrothed.” The King stood from his throne amidst surprised gasps, the court’s attention now speared on him. “Because 3 months from now, your crown princess will be wed to Eriant’s first prince, a historical union between two ally countries-”

Before he could speak further, the court erupted into joyous celebration, the sounds of happiness ringing in your ears. You smiled widely, the picture-perfect bride-to-be and queen-to-be as you stood up and bowed to the revelling crowd.

From an outside point of view, the betrothal definitely did look like the dream alliance come true. Velairen and Eriant had been allies ever since the inception of the two countries, controlling the continent’s coastline together. During Velairen’s war with the inland desert tribes, Eriant sent troops and funds from their depthless coffers to aid Velairen’s victory. While your country won the war, the lands suffered from famine, bad trade and mourning- no way to repay Eriant for their loan….so here you were, pretending to be the blushing paragon of a happy bride. Pretending that you wanted to marry a snake in a fancy crown.

Sighing internally, you smoothed your skirts out as you sat down again, barely listening to your father’s emotional and thankful speech in honour of the many times Eriant has come to your country’s help and now, you get to repay them in kind with the hand of Velairen’s future queen. A hand that would never touch the prince’s, if you had anything to do with it-

“Thank you for the welcome, Your Majesty.” Lee Minho’s voice was like a jolt of recognition you would sell your soul to forget. “In honour of our betrothal, I have a small gift from Eriant’s treasury, for the newest jewel of our family. May I?”

You could have sworn you heard the ladies-in-waiting sigh dreamily amongst the courtiers, but all you could feel was belated disgust. Despite your inner turmoil, you smiled sweetly at him as your father nodded and let Minho walk up the steps to stop in front of your throne- where your skirts stopped. Too close for comfort.

You gulped as Minho’s clove and mint scent surrounded your senses, painfully familiar. Going down on one knee in front of you, he opened a black velvet box to reveal...fire. Your breath caught in your throat as you unconsciously put a hand out to run your finger over the row of twinkling red gemstones were inlaid into the white-gold ring…This ring had bottled a wildfire in it. “This is beautiful…” You breathed despite yourself, almost forgetting who was to slip that ring on your finger until-

“Of course, I chose it.” Minho grinned up at you, razor-sharp and devious- and you were brought back to reality. This wasn’t a true engagement. It never would be. You were nothing but one acquisition of many for Eriant, a conquest for its unruly crown prince.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” you murmured soullessly amidst the merrymaking that had ensued throughout the court at the sight of the two young royals together. You didn’t pretend to sound like anything you didn’t feel like- there was nobody listening anyway. Minho’s eyes darkened as he saw your enamoured expression shutter into a blandly happy mask as he slipped the ring onto your left hand.

“Glad you like it.” He said as he got to his feet, bowing his head to you and you raised your eyebrows, a small smile still playing at your lips. To anybody else, it would have looked bashful and happy, but Minho knew better- that smile was a promise of dark things waiting to happen. “What’s another ring in a queen’s trousseau?”

“Why aren’t you ready yet?” Jisung’s exasperated voice sounded from outside your bedroom, prompting you to giggle aloud as you reclined on an armchair fully dressed, an open book placed on your lap. You had been reading and oh, how unfortunate that-

“It’s only a meeting with my betrothed, cousin dearest,” you responded, closing the book and getting to your feet. “I’m sure he can wait for me.”

“You’re almost an hour late!!” your cousin exclaimed, pounding on the door once more. “I’m not going to be fired by Uncle for your impertinent behaviour, so you better haul your royal ass out before I pick the lock and drag you downstairs by your ears!”

“Tsk, such a killjoy.” you purred, walking to your bedroom door and pulling it open, smile only widening at the sight of a red-cheeked, annoyed Han Jisung. “After his betrayal with this betrothal, I could ask for moon cheese and my father would have to oblige. You’re stuck with me, cousin dearest.”

“You and I both know you’re stalling because you’re scared of looking Minho in the eye, so drop the act, will you?” Jisung responded brusquely, rolling his eyes. A shiver tracked down your spine, unbeknownst to your cousin. He wasn’t wrong.

The Eriant party had taken up comfortable residence in… you guessed it, the princess’ wing. Your wing. And yet, you had managed to avoid Minho over the past week as he got accustomed to his new temporary residence and explored the capital city. Seungmin had caught your eye a few times, bowing his head and smirking as you passed him by. Minho, however… if anything, you were fairly sure he was avoiding you himself, judging from how atrociously easy it was to avoid him despite living in the same wing.

“A queen doesn’t act; others are just judgemental.” You scoffed dramatically, looping an arm around Jisung’s, giggling at the exaggerated huff that left your cousin’s lips. “The things I do for family.” He grumbled, letting you drag him out of your drawing room and into the corridors, a grateful smile quirking your lips.

Jisung had been your closest friend since you could remember- he had seen you grow up from an unruly, spiteful little princess into a dignified royal. At least for appearance’s sake. He knew how pained you were after the events that began your enmity with Eriant’s crown prince, the nights you’d spent staring into the night with nobody but the moon for company. You knew he had your best interests at heart- Jisung would not watch you hurt because of Lee Minho again.

“The Princess is here,” Jisung announced as you stepped into the room, your gait slow and casual. Instantly, you could sense the frustration the Crown Prince was exuding- you coughed a giggle into your hand at the sight of Minho’s furrowed brows and gritted teeth.

“Sorry I’m a little late,” you apologised airily as you slid into a chair, nodding to Seungmin and the blonde boy you recognized as the Eriant ambassador to Velairen, Lee Felix. “I got caught up in a prior commitment.” Jisung took a seat next to you, leaving you seated between him and Seo Changbin- the Minister of the Treasury and another of your close friends. The Eriant princes and Felix were seated opposite to the three of you on the long conference table, Minho directly opposite to you. Changbin dropped a quick kiss onto your cheek after you settled yourself onto the chair.

“Was the commitment of a literary nature?” he murmured, prompting you to laugh heartily. “Oh, you know me too well, dearest.” The incredulous glare Minho was giving you wasn’t lost on you- he was making no attempt to hide his emotions, it seemed. “Can we get the proceedings started now?” You asked pleasantly. “Unlike some crown princes who can loaf their lives away, I have places to be.”

The stab of amusement that tingled your spine at Minho’s affronted expression was too satisfying to let go of. He made it too easy, offending him. Seungmin coughed into his hand, a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, his silver eyes twinkling in amusement. “Of course, Your Highness,” he said, his voice deep and as pleasant as yours.

“Before anything, can we drop the honorifics? If we are to be family, honorifics mean nothing.”

A scoff escaped Minho’s lips at your request and you levelled a stare at him, bordering on ice cold. “Of course you’d want to drop the honorifics, Princess.” Minho’s voice matched you for bland pleasantry- “You’re getting married above your station after all, to a country bigger and better than yours will ever be.” And finally, the snake spits its venom.

Before you could snarl a furious response, Jisung and Changbin’s hands caught each of yours, squeezing in a warning. Not now, they seemed to say. Not now, you can rip into him later.

Teeth gritted, you turned your attention to Felix, who seemed to be cursing his luck for getting him caught in this royal crossfire. “You were saying, Ambassador?” You prompted him, pointedly ignoring Minho’s jab. Felix started and sat up straight, clearing his throat. “Yes, so, this meeting was to figure out your public appearances for the next 4 months.” Oh, stars. “Jisung and I will be managing your appearances and schedules for the next few months. On an average, you two will have to be seen together at least thrice a week- balls, charities, union meetings…wedding shopping.” He choked out and almost instantly, Minho rolled his eyes.

“Judging by the…animosity, can being cordial to each other in public be an acceptable request of the two of you?” Felix’s eyes flitted between the two of you nervously. Poor boy, he must be getting paid handsomely to put up with these rich brats. A pleasant smile lit up your face, reaching out to pat Felix’s hand where it was resting on the table. “Don’t worry, Felix. I’m not much trouble. I can manage myself in public.” Almost instantly, Felix relaxed, an uncertain smile passing across his features- “Of course she can, pretending is the only thing she does decently.”

Changbin’s hand tightened around yours, while Jisung’s grip loosened. Minho was treading the line between impoliteness and disrespect and it was clear that Jisung already had had enough of him. Still, you continued to ignore him, opting to turn to your cousin.

“What’s the first schedule we have together?” Saying the words left such a bitter taste in the back of your tongue. “Your mother The Queen’s picnic with high society at high noon tomorrow. That’s your formal introduction into the society, princes,” Jisung nodded to Minho and Seungmin, before turning to Felix. “We’d appreciate it if we get this meeting over with as soon as possible, we have a meeting with the ministry right after this.” You pursed your lips in amusement; Jisung really didn’t like Minho. You didn’t have anything scheduled after this but a peaceful afternoon in the gardens.

Minho coughed into his tea, a jeer barely hidden behind the teacup and this time, you let your chilling stare bore into him, an eyebrow raised. “Do you have anything to say that contributes to this conversation?”

He smirked, setting his teacup down. “You’ve not changed a bit, have you.” Changbin’s eyes narrowed at the disdainful undertones on his voice, but you surreptitiously patted the top of his hand before steepling your fingers on top of the table. “What makes you think so, Minho?” “You’re still the people pleasing little girl who waltzed every night away with different men. You’re still no better than a lowly courtesan, vying for a richer man’s attention-“

A gasp cut off his venomous words, his eyes betraying the pure rage coursing through his system at the sight and sensation of cold tea soaking the front of his clothes but before he could say another word- A resounding smack sent his head reeling to the side, the sheer force leaving his ears ringing. You knelt on top of the table in front of him, your teeth gritted in a barely restrained anger- the sheer fucking audacity -

Jisung, Changbin, Seungmin and Felix had shot to their feet in shock, only watching as you caught the front of blazer and brought him closer to your face, eyes not leaving his. “You never knew anything about me, Lee Minho,” You murmured softly. “You never did, you never will.” Jisung and Changbin had reached over to catch each of your shoulders, gently hauling you back from Minho but your fingers tightened on the lapels of his blazer, pulling him to his feet and halfway over the table with you. “So don’t sit there with your holier-than-thou attitude and think that I will take it lying down. I am not your doormat, but I have no qualms making you mine.”

Minho collapsed onto his seat as Jisung and Changbin dragged you over the table and set you on the floor, your chest still heaving slightly. Almost immediately, Jisung pulled you towards the double doors you had entered through, Changbin bowing before heading behind the both of them. Seungmin coughed when the doors closed behind the three of them. “That’s her, huh.”

Minho let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, a hiss escaping his teeth when his brother’s cool fingers prodded his cheek where she’d slapped him. She was just as he remembered- a spitfire with unexplained elegance, a hurricane barely contained in human skin. She was exactly as his dreams painted her to be for the past year, so fiery and real…a human embodiment of the ring he had gotten made for her. The regret that had racked his system for a year pricked the back of his eyes and he blinked aggressively, willing the emotions away from his face.

She hated him for his reckless behaviour. She would never trust him again after the way he had behaved with her back then- betrothal, marriage or a shared crown be damned. “Yes, that’s her.” //

“Felix, you are excused. Ji, I’ll drop by your chambers later. Leave us alone for a bit.”

You growled the second your drawing room door closed behind the both of you as well as Jisung and Felix. The four of you and Seungmin had been at the Minister of Foreign affairs’ charity ball that evening, so you were all dressed in Lord Hyunjin’s chosen dress code- black and gold.

Minho had been watching you rather oddly at the beginning of the night but you’d chosen to pointedly ignore them, as you always did. Hyunjin had swept you into his arms for your first dance, the most gracious host honouring the lovely crown princess. He had held you close as you chuckled and laughed against his shoulder, thoroughly enjoying your childhood friend’s talent in dance and his innate ability to set the most stressful situations at ease.

When you turned back to your…your fiancé, however, he had taken up residence in the midst of a gaggle of ladies, all giggling and preening around him. You had pushed down the raging fire taking root at the pit of your stomach and stalked to him, asking for a dance- only to be ignored, dismissed with nary but a second glance from Minho. You had been saved from humiliation by a dark-eyed Jisung, who had swooped in and taken your outstretched hand, leading you into an easy waltz. What happened next, however…

“I’ve about had it with you for the past month, you prick,” Turning and advancing on Minho, you pushed him back with two hands on his chest. He stumbled and quickly straightened himself, a haze of anger numbing his own senses.

“Well, you really want to duke it out now, fine. Let’s talk.” Minho crossed his arms. Your face burned with a barely restrained annoyance and for a second, Minho’s heart sank. Had he crossed a line today?

The past month had been torturous for the ‘happy couple’. Velairen was overjoyed to see the queen-to-be and her beloved fiancé stepping into the limelight almost every other day, their love a picture-perfect union. You had laughed and smiled at Minho, let your fingers brush his knuckles and grip his arm, let him lead you in dances and feed you cupcakes at every ball and celebration you could humanly attend together.

Minho, to his credit, had played along. He never failed to offer you his arm on walks, always helped you fix your outfits, dropped ‘secret’ kisses against your cheek and temple, soft and loving and the paragon of a fiancé in love.

But little did Velairen know, the war that the ‘happy couple’ waged behind the scenes. How your hands would always clutch Minho’s bicep a touch too roughly, almost enough for him to wince. How you would deliberately step on his toes mid-dance and giggle airily, apologizing and shying away like a bashful bride. How Minho would trip you on walks and then proceed to catch you, cursing the cobblestones in the most gallant manner. How he would butt into your conversations with dukes and have ‘politely flirty’ conversation with the fawning ladies-in-waiting. Tonight, however…

“Do I really have to go over how much of an absolute ass you looked like in the ball tonight? How you undermined me?”

Minho scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You were the one simpering and falling all over that Lord Hyunjin.”

“He’s like my brother, you possessive idiot!” You threw your arms up in exasperation. “And I can’t bring myself to care about you going around behaving like a man whore. Just try to be a little discreet about it, will you?”

Deep down, your words hit Minho with shards of hurt. Was that how low you thought of him? Despite the bile and nausea that rose to his throat at the thought, he swallowed, before speaking again.

“If that’s not your concern, then what is? The tripping? Surely you’re not that juvenile. You had your revenge on my toes for that-“ “You undermined me in front of the FUCKING MINISTRY!” Your voice rose to a yell and Minho pursed his lips. He truly had crossed a line tonight. You continued, your voice still loud and furious.

“You told the fucking Minister of Education that the only reason I have a crown on my head is because of my blood and not my capability.” You fumed. “I should have you thrown into the dungeons for your thoughtless impertinence.” And the anger came rushing back to his body, replacing any semblance of regret he harboured for his (albeit) false words.

“You don’t have the authority to do that, princess,” he spat out the last word like a mockery of it’s meaning and you stiffened, your vision going red.

“The only thing royal about you is your royal ego, Minho.” You snarled at him. “You’re in my palace. My turf. I can do whatever I wish to you, short of pulling your tongue out.” “Like you can afford to hurt me in any way,” Minho scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Eriant would have your head if I went back disfigured.”

“That’s what you do best, don’t you?” You grinned mockingly, crossing your arms. “Hide behind your country’s prestige like a little boy.” Minho’s eyes darkened, his jaw tight in anger but you found yourself still talking, letting the words slip out of you unrestrained.

“You don’t know a thing about the power you hold other than lording it over people’s heads, PLEASE,” you spit, prodding his chest with a finger. “don’t think, even for a second, that I will ever take you or this sham of an engagement I’m trapped in seriously.”

Turning your back on him, you stalked to the low tea table and poured yourself some water in a bid to calm yourself, when Minho let out a derisive laugh behind you. “There it is. You’re trapped in this engagement? Do you ever think about the unfortunate souls that have to deal with your narcissistic self?” Your fingers tightened around the glass; you would not respond with the anger he was asking- no, begging for any further. “Everything is about you, isn’t it? Your betrothal, your crown, your country, your ice-cold heart and your inability to love-“

Judging from the way your body stilled, he knew he’d touched a nerve. But when you turned to face him, Minho was not prepared to see tears lining your red-rimmed eyes. He didn’t expect the sight to affect him the way it did, feel like his heart had just dropped a thousand feet, heavy and regretful.

“Is that what you think?” “I-I just-“Minho sucked in a deep breath, an attempt to calm the ice-cold panic that was seeping into his veins. “That crossed a boundary. My apologies. I did not mean to say that.”

You only scoffed tearfully in response, a…no, that wasn’t a smile, that was an unfeeling curl of your lips that couldn’t be deigned a smile. “You wouldn’t have said that had you not thought it true, Minho.”

Suddenly you weren’t the headstrong, stubborn, reckless girl Minho was used to seeing, the one with a viper tongue and wolves’ claws. Suddenly, you were the teenager who was used to getting what she wanted, even in the realm of love- the young girl who laid her eyes on men and ladies who fascinated you and did all you could to claim them. Suddenly, you were the young princess who had laid eyes on a young Lee Minho and had instantly wanted him- the blooming young lady new to high society, having eyes only for the rebellious, sharp-tongued, young prince with a smile that could fell kingdoms.

The queen-to-be who never really stopped having eyes only for the king-to-be.

“You found it so easy to dismiss me as a player, a royal rake with no human feeling whatsoever, didn’t you?” You laughed humourlessly, brushing past Minho to flop on the drawing room couch. His eyes followed you, his place at the edge of the rug still unchanged.

“You made it easy to do that, princess,” Minho murmured, his voice soft, placating, hesitant- almost like he was treading a thin line between setting off your anger or god forbid, hurt you again. “Your reputation preceded you.”

“My reputation painted me without virtue, without honour but it didn’t paint me without a heart, prince.” To that, Minho had no answer. The fight left his body, his shoulders slumped in defeat. His body steered him to the armchair next to you, sinking onto the plush cushions. “You’re right.”

“You heard a part of one conversation I had with a lady-in-waiting who wanted to bed you and instantly assumed you were yet another conquest for me.” You pulled your body upright, your tear-streaked face at odds with your pin-straight back and upright chin. This was a future queen in front of him, Minho realized. A queen who had stood trial for her poor decisions in the past and had never shirked into the darkness in fear of being wrong.

“I told her you were my conquest and that you were already crawling into bed with me so that she wouldn’t hound you. Because-“ you gulped, before spitting out the words that choked you on the way out. “Because I was jealous.” Oh.

“I was jealous because I saw you dally with that lady-in-waiting before…before we began courting. I didn’t want you to see how- I didn’t want you to see all the beauties Velairen had to offer and decide I wasn’t it for you. And that thought terrified me.” Oh. Oh.

“I’ll admit, I- I courted you only out of curiosity for your pretty face- But I swear, when I spoke to that noble, I already knew I was in love with you. Had been for a while. Those 3 months of courting you was probably the most- the only time courting felt right.” Well, damn.

Every cruel word he’d thrown at you after eavesdropping on that fateful conversation and the past month…it was all for naught. You had never been the rake, the rebellious player that rumor and reputation painted you out to be. His insult to your character a year ago was what pushed you away from him, unhesitatingly having chosen yourself over a prince who clearly didn’t know enough about you. “I love you.”

A sharp intake of breath was the only response Minho received in response to his blurted confession, your eyes wide with disbelief. “You what?” “I love you. I always have.” Minho’s mouth worked on instinct now, pouring out the words that had been brewing in the back of his mind for a year, weighed down by guilt, regret, embarrassment-

“I panicked when I heard you tell that noble that I was nothing but a conquest. I thought I was more to you. I wanted to be more to you, but there you were, making it abundantly clear that you weren’t. I panicked. The things I said, I didn’t mean a single word of them. Not a single one of them.”

Minho risked a glance at you, Your jaw was slack in surprise, your eyes still wide, fingers still clutching your dark skirts tightly, like you were struggling to stay in reality. The expression enough was almost enough for him to mentally slap himself to shut up, but he was beyond silence now-

“This betrothal was probably the best thing that could have happened to me. It brought me back to you. But when I saw the hatred you still had for me…I didn’t know how else to respond to your jibes. I’m truly sorry about all of it.

“I know my apology doesn’t take back all the absolutely shitty things I’ve said. I won’t expect you to take me back after everything. But could I…could I ask you for another chance?” and out of instinct, his body moved to kneel on one knee in front of you, a choked sob escaping your lips. “Minho-“

“Let me prove to you that I- I mean what I said. Because I do, I really do.” Minho’s hand curled around yours, the hand you wore the ring Minho had given you. “Will you…will you let me prove it to you?” A beat of silence turned to two, three, ten… “Yes.”

“JISUNG! Seungmin’s shadowing us!” You called out, chuckling when you heard the amused groan from behind the curtains. The second Eriant prince slinked out and threw you a two fingered salute, his eyes twinkling. You responded in kind, winking at him as he slipped out of your drawing room, just as Jisung walked in from your bedroom, arms laden with boxes. “Stay out of the bride’s room, best man!” Jisung yelled to the open drawing room door, only getting a distant chuckle and a resounding NO in response.

“He idolizes your rake phase.” Jisung grumbled, carefully placing the boxes on the tea table as you laughed aloud, crossing your legs. “And here I was, thinking he was just spying on me for his brother.”

“Well, that too.” Changbin grinned as he walked into your drawing room with Hyunjin, each with a gift box in hand. “My my, for all the love I’m receiving, I should have gotten married earlier!” You grinned, rising to pull both the Ministers into a hug. “Don’t flatter yourself, this is only going to last for the next hour.” Hyunjin stuck his tongue out, ruffling your hair affectionately. “When you get back from Eriant after the tour, you’re going to be treated as woefully normal. As Queen and not Minho’s Wife.” Minho’s wife. The words still sent a giddy jolt down your spine.

True to his words that night, Minho had proved his love to you, a little by little, day by day. This time, there was no misunderstanding and oh, the way his love bloomed. He greeted you with love letters with your morning tea and later, forehead kisses and lazy cuddles in bed.

He had taken his word very seriously and stoutly refused to speak against you for another month until you goaded him into banter again, stating that his sharp tongue was just another thing you adored about him.

Which was why you didn’t have to hesitate when he proposed marriage to you yet again, in the royal garden amongst red roses and white lilies, moonlight striking your happy tears as you said the magic word- “Yes.”

Life was a little brighter now. Not from hate, no. This time, from love. From Minho.

Taglist: @aliceu @decembermoonskz @seraplantery @rebecca-noona @decembermoonskz @straykidsownmysoul @stellarmonsterr @soya-zz @fylithia @bythesunnotbythemoon @luminois @moonlight-hyunjae @illicit-roses @cotccotc @unsaidhj @popisdead @sungieshines

Network Tag: @inkidz @districtninewriters @starryktown @bystay

Thank you for reading! Do let me know what you think! -Elliana

#stray kids #skz lee know #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz fluff #skz fantasy au #stray kids fluff #skz x reader #stray kids au #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #ellaskz #lino

524 notes · View notes

juletheghoul · 3 years

Text

Oblivius Chapter 6

So I'm thinking next chapter will be... a big one.

You cannot know how happy I am to see all your comments and reblogs and messages and general kind words about how this story is making you feel. Love y'all. Keep asking! Keep messaging! I want to talk about this all day lmao.

Likes & reblogs are appreciated

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Angst, slow-burn, yearning, 18+ language (Please let me know if I forget anything)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Prev Part Next Part Playlist

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

Age: 20

“Why did you even ask me out Frankie? Do you even like me?” She was embarrassed, walking towards the door.

“Yes of course, I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t.” He tried to walk it back but she was incensed, her cheeks burning bright with anger. She rounded on him when she got to the door, making him step back slightly from her onslaught.

“When you invited me over to meet your friends I didn’t expect to be ignored so you could flirt with her. Get your shit together Frankie, I’m not gonna go out with someone who’s too busy pining over someone else to notice me.” Her eyes were bright with un-shed tears, if she expected some sort of answer or explanation - he had none.

He watched her go.

“Everything okay Francis?” Spills had come looking for him.

“Yes, everything’s good. She had to go.” He had a big smile for her when he turned around.

“Will she be back?” Thankfully she hadn’t heard them.

“I doubt it.” He couldn’t be too sad about it though, not when she looked up at him like that.

——————

**Present Day**

He could still feel her wrapped around him as he walked to the shore. Could feel her moulded to his back, her legs on his waist. He had meant every word he’d said to her, he would gladly stay there with her forever.

“How was the water babe?” Claudia kissed him when he lay on the towel next to her to dry off, wrinkling her nose slightly at the water that trickled from his hair onto her face.

“Beautiful.” His eyes were on Spills, floating in the water. “You should take a dip.”

“No thanks, I’m perfectly happy here. Can you get my back babe?” She smiled up at him but he wasn’t looking at her, his eyes were trained on the water. “Francisco?” She had to tap him to get his attention. He tore his gaze away to face her.

“Sorry babe, yes of course.”

You can’t keep doing this Francisco. Get your fucking shit together and focus.

“You okay fish?” Pope's voice startled him slightly and when he turned to look at him his expression was serious. “You seem a little… distracted.” His eyes quickly flashed towards Spills floating in the water.

I never should have told him.

“I’m fine.” His voice was clipped, he really didn’t need this right now and he hoped his tone was warning enough. Pope didn’t say anything but he had a feeling he’d hear about this later.

“I wanna ask her out.” Benny had sat down beside Frankie and was staring out at Spills.

“You should! You guys would look cute together, wouldn’t they babe? We could double date or something.” Claudia was happy at the prospect but Frankie's stomach dropped. He felt the anger crawling in his gut, tensing his muscles at the prospect of Benny with her.

This isn’t normal, I shouldn’t feel like this.

“I think you should, Benny.” Pope clapped him on the back. “Fish - I think you should put in a good word for our boy.” It was hard for Frankie not to lash out but why would he? He was engaged and Spills was free. What reason could he possibly have to not want this to happen?

There’s only one reason why, and I can’t fucking help it.

“Yeah of course. I’ll talk to her.” It took everything in him to keep his voice neutral.

“Only ask her out if you’re serious, don’t bother if you’re going to fuck around because that’s his friend, she’s not a random.” Will chimed in, ever the voice of reason and Frankie was thankful.

“I know that.” Benny smiled, and Frankie had to keep quiet.

----

Everything was quiet. Your ears were submerged as you floated peacefully in the water, eyes closed. The ocean always managed to make you feel safe despite its size. Maybe that was what appealed to you, it was so vast and unknowable, you could get lost in it.

You saw the shadow obscure the light despite having your eyes closed. Pope was in the water with you and you smiled at him. Of all the army friends Frankie had introduced you to, Pope was the most mysterious. He guarded his words and you had the sense that he knew way more than he let on.

“Did you have anything planned for the bachelor party yet?” His question dropped a boulder into your stomach.

Fuck, I forgot about that.

“Nope - hadn't even remembered until you said it. I have no idea how the hell to plan one.” Your eyes widened at the thought of it and he laughed, not unkindly.

“I figured, I can help you out. He’s a simple guy - but I'm guessing you already know that. I’m guessing you know much more about him than we do in a lot of respects.” He was smiling at you but there was something underneath his words, a tone you couldn’t discern.

“Probably - known him a long time.” It felt like you were under the microscope.

“Years worth of stuff that Claudia doesn’t even know.” His eyes were burning into you and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was gauging your reaction.

“In all likelihood, but she’ll learn eventually I imagine.” Your voice sounded a lot calmer than you felt.

“Obviously no strip clubs, that’s not his thing. Just get all his friends together and get him drunk.” He was watching you closely but your eyes were focused on Frankie, he was laughing and happy - talking animatedly with Will about something and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I can see how much you love him.” Your eyes flashed towards him. “Like a brother, right?” He raised his eyebrows at you and you felt the colour drain from your face.

Am I that fucking obvious?

“Yeah… like a brother.” You were lying, even when you were younger you knew you’d always loved him, but it never felt brotherly. He knew. “See ya.” As much as you wanted to be in the water, you couldn't handle the scrutiny anymore and you made your way back to shore.

---

The rest of the day was spent mostly in your head, you tried to focus on the conversations you had. You tried to focus on the water and the sunshine but it seemed like Pope’s words and his implications followed you.

“You okay Spills? You’ve been distracted all day.” You’d been on the road for almost half an hour and you’d barely said anything.

“Yeah - sorry, just tired. Need a shower.” You smiled at him weakly.

“You sure? Seems like you have something else on your mind.” He glanced over to you and your heart swelled. His curls were defined from the salt water, his face was a little pink from the sun and he looked so warm and soft. You ran your fingers through his hair seemingly without thought. It was so soft and you had to fight the urge to keep touching it.

“I’m okay Francis - gotta plan your bachelor party.” You couldn’t keep the sadness out of your voice, hoping it came across as tired. You were both silent the whole ride home.

--------

You never would have thought it, but you were glad to be back at work. It was the one place that had no memory of Francis. You could come in, completely focus your energy and forget everything for most of the day. In all the time you worked there - you’d never been this productive but with the wedding slowly approaching, the anxiety was slowly creeping in.

Nowhere was safe now.

[unknown contact]: hey Spills! It’s Claudia - I got your number from Frankie. I was hoping you’d be able to come with me tomorrow to the bridal store. We have to make sure you match everyone on the big day!

Really fucking wish you wouldn’t call me that.

[you:] hey Claudia! Uh yeah sure what time?

[claudia😒]: great! Appointment is for 10am - I’ll send you the address, see you then! 🙂

[you]: sounds great - see you then!

Well that’s just great.

It had been a week since the beach trip and the peace couldn’t last.

—-

There was something about Claudia that got under your skin.

She’s marrying the love of your life, obviously she gets under your skin.

She was friendly enough, and she loved Francis - you could see that in her excitement; but there was something underneath. You got a sense that she was trying to pull a fast one on him.

“Spills, if Frankie and I move, would you come visit us? I think you’re holding him back a little bit.” She was standing as they made adjustments on the dress which thankfully had made it in time to be altered.

“What? What do you mean?” Where was this question coming from?

“Well, he wants to stay here. He wants to live close to his mom and you, but I’m trying to convince him to live back home with me. Maybe if you told him it would be okay and that you’d visit he’d give in.” Your blood was boiling. Give in? His wants and needs had to mean more to her than that?

I have to calm down, I’m overreacting.

“He already told you he doesn’t want to leave? Maybe you guys should compromise? Middle-ground?” You had to put your diplomatic hat on, couldn’t just tear into this girl. The logical part of your brain told you that this was normal - couples disagree about things all the time and it made sense that she’d want to be close to her family and her home.

“Yes he’s set in his ways. It’s frustrating.” She laughed lightly. “I just think that if you gave him your blessing he’d be more open to leaving with me.”

But you don’t have my blessing, I’m the wrong person to come to with this.

“I really think you should talk to him about this - he’s never been the kind of guy to be swayed. Won’t matter what I say.” You were being honest as well as telling her it wasn’t your problem in a roundabout way. She didn’t say anything else and you could tell she wasn’t happy with your answer. You left it alone.

---

You couldn’t put it off any more, as much as you were dreading this wedding you still had responsibilities as his best-person. You had to get everything together and throw this stupid fucking bachelor party.

You messaged all of the friends you knew he kept in touch with, telling them about the outing. They had things planned the whole week up until the wedding so it had to be the Friday before the wedding. Which means you had little less than a week to get it together.

[you]: Hey Francis - can you give me Popes number? Trying to plan your party!

[Francis]: Sure - sending it now. Hopefully it’s nothing too crazy?

[you]: Shit… you mean you don’t want your own parade? Should I cancel the army of exotic dancers?

[Francis]: You’re hilarious, honestly.

[you]: just taking you to a bar you fool, just want to coordinate with him because I don’t have everyone's contact info.

[Francis]: Sounds good, thanks for this - I never got a chance to ask but how did it go at the bridal store?

[you]: Went well

You thought about everything Claudia had said and debated on telling him. Would he want you to? Would she want you to? Somehow you didn’t think she’d be too happy unless you were on her side. Which you decidedly weren’t.

[you]: Think you should talk to her, she’s not happy with you wanting to stay here, after the wedding I mean. I support you whatever you decide but she seemed to think that you needed my blessing in order to leave with her. I told her she needed to talk to you - and I’m telling you the same thing.

Being honest and supportive was the best course of action and you hoped that neither of them (him more so than her) would be upset with how you went about it.

It worried you though when he didn’t answer and you had to trust that they would both understand that you didn’t actually want to influence anyones decision.

Liar, I want him to stay. Even if it’s not with me. I want him to stay.

You pushed the thought away and messaged Pope, the both of you came together and planned a dinner for everyone on the Friday before the wedding, which would turn into the bachelor party after. In five days, he’d be married and if Claudia got her way - far far away from you.

------

Tag list: @frannyzooey @foli-vora @danniburgh @sambucky21 @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @ezrasbirdie @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @softdindjxrin @wheresarizona @sherala007 @freak-nasty-thick-dick-mando @marydjarin @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @lori-tovar @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @greeneyedblondie44 @maxwell--lord @princessxkenobi @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @dihra-vesa @gaiuswrites @stevie75 @sweet-creature98 @readsalot73 @tobealostwanderer @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @goldielocks2004 @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @bellaorisa @hellovanessax @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @mrs-ghuleh @pedritoispunk @librariantothejedi @studythoreauly

#frankie x female reader #frankie x you #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal fic #triple frontier #frankie x f!reader #my bestfriends wedding au #frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #oblivius

232 notes · View notes

sunrisefairy · 3 years

Text

Cameras and crushes

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Warning: Alcohol, small mention of death, pure fluffiness

Summary: Y/N is used to being a background character someone you glaze over but never really notice. But more recently she longed for someone to see her, well she longed for a certain redhead to see her.

A/N: Wrote this for @theweasleysredhair writing challenge based off the prompt “You remembered?” very proud of this fic so i hope you love it as much as i do. All feedback is welcomed :))))

italics represent a flashback

Taglist: send me a message if you would like to be added @hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines @klausdatprettyboi @georgeweasleyswhre

————————————————————————

Y/N is very content with being a background character, she’s quite used to it actually. Growing up with 3 older and much louder brothers she was pretty happy with sticking to the sidelines, letting them be noisy and crazy while she kept to herself. Y/N grew up with mostly boys around her, her mother passed away when she was young. Y/N would always beg her brothers and her dad for stories of her mother, wanting to feel closer to her. Y/N’s dad would fondly retell memories of his beautiful wife, reminiscing on how witty and charismatic she was. He’d mention all the small, quirky things she would do which made him fall hard and fast for her. Y/N longed for that kind of love, she longed for someone to take notice of her in the way her dad did for her mum. Ever since Y/N was a little girl she yearned to be heard and seen but that proved difficult when you’re as shy and quiet as her.

Judging by most of the people in Y/N’s life she seemed to attract the boisterous types, guessing her quiet nature balanced them out. She loved her friends with her entire heart, even if their personalities were the opposite of hers, Y/N wouldn’t change their qualities if she could.

One of her friends, although still lively and vibrant as the others, also had a calm and tranquil side to him. George Weasley. Y/N had only known George for a few years having met at Lee Jordan’s 18th birthday 3 years ago. Somehow that night she had ended up climbing a tree with the tall redhead whom she had only met 30 minutes prior.

“How the hell did you get up to that branch?” Y/N mumbled, trying to figure out how to reach the higher branch where George Weasley was currently sitting, his long legs swinging back and forth as he chuckled at the girl below him.

“I used that branch sticking out there and then swung my leg up to get here.” George points to the branch to the girls left.

Y/N grunts as she attempts what George said but huffs and pouts her lip feeling defeated, “you forget that I have little legs, unlike you Mr. giraffe.”

George rolls his eyes and stretches his hand out, “try again, I’ll help pull you up.”

Somehow, George manages to pull Y/N up and they sit comfortably next to one another up high in the tree. “There you go little bunny, don’t go falling off now.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at the nickname wishing she had brought her cider up with her feeling very self-conscious and unsure of what to do her shaking hands.

The pair fall into a comfortable silence, watching the party goers below them gathered around a very intoxicated birthday boy chanting as he chugs another beer, “we love to drink with Lee cause Lee is our mate and when we drink with Lee he gets it down in 8…7…”

Their voices drown out as George gently nudges Y/N’s shoulder pulling her attention back to him, “soo, Y/N I hear you’re not much of the talker?”

Y/N blushes hard grateful for the lack of light outside. “No I guess not. Not many are interested in what I have to say.”

George smiles, his eyes not leaving the girl beside him, “well I am. Tell me something.”

Y/N chews on her bottom lip nervously and looks back at the drunk crowd, “like what?”

George shrugs, he didn’t really mind what the conversation was about, he just wanted to hear the pretty girl speak. “I dunno, anything. Tell me about something that makes you happy.”

Y/N racks her brain for something to talk about, her palms getting sweaty from the long silence. Finally, she settles on something that always fills her with joy, her mother.

“Um okay so,” she starts staring at the leaves swaying in the tree, pushing down the anxiety. “Before my mother died she always had this film camera with her, my dad used to joke around saying that she loved this camera more than him,” Y/N chuckles quietly before continuing “She would take photos of the most random things, we have this big box back home filled with all the photos she ever took with that camera.” Y/N pauses, fumbling with her fingers. “I wish we still had the camera. You see after my mum passed, dad had to look after us 4 kids and with only one income coming in, it was pretty tough. For my 12th birthday I reeeaaally wanted a new bike, I’d complained for years that I couldn’t have my brothers old one because it was a gross boy’s bike. So, my dad sold my mums camera to get me a pink one. Kind of wish he didn’t because I would have loved to still have mum’s camera with us.”

Y/N finished and chewed her lip realising speaking about her dead mother probably wasn’t a great conversation piece, but any story of her mother always made her feel warm inside.

George hadn’t taken his eyes off her throughout the whole story, his heart fluttering when her eyes had lit up as she spoke about her mother.

“I’m sorry, probably not what you wanted to hear, it was the first thing that popped into my head.” Y/N mumbled.

George simply shook his head and replied, “you don’t ever have to apologise to me for saying what’s on your mind Y/N. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

For the first time in a while, Y/N felt seen.

Y/N’s phone dings and she pulls it from her pocket to read the message.

-Hey bunny :) so 4 tonight, we’re aiming to get to urs at like 7. does that work for u?

It was from George. Even if she didn’t have his number saved, she’d be able to tell it was from the redhead simply from his choice of nickname. Y/N hated when he called her bunny but George insisted on using the nickname ever since Lee’s 18th mainly because he thought it was cute not that he would tell her that.

Y/N’s heart thumped harder in her chest purely from the fact that George had texted her. Her crush on George had amplified over the years of knowing the boy, feeling both thankful and uneasy at the fact that he had so effortlessly slotted into their tight friendship group mainly because he was always around making Y/N a stuttering mess.

Y/N’s fingers fumble as she types out a response, it was her birthday today and all her friends we’re persistent in throwing her a party. They had agreed to a small gathering at Y/N’s place, Y/N didn’t want them to make such a fuss over it.

-Hey Georgie, 7 is perfect! Cant wait.

-See u then bunny, hope ur ready to get ur drink on ;)

-IDK, after the other weekend I dont think im ready to face alcohol again

-nope! no excuses from u, u only turn 21 once

Y/N chuckles at George’s message and goes back to tidying her house, ready for tonight.

~~~~

As soon as it hits 7pm her friends are barging through her front door lugging drinks.

Each of them greet Y/N giving her a hug and wishing her happy birthday.

“We’ll do presents later, first let’s get some drinks into us!” Angelina cheers as she starts to mix some deadly concoction. Alicia connects her phone to the speaker, the living room filling with music.

Y/N jumps as a voice pipes up from behind her, “happy birthday little bunny.”

She turns facing George as he places a brightly coloured wrapped box on the counter with the other presents. He opens his arms, engulfing her into a giant hug. Y/N wraps her arms around his waist, giving him a tight squeeze, “thanks” she mumbles into his chest before pulling away looking up at his warm eyes. They stare at each other for a second before the moment is broken when Fred places something on Y/N’s head.

“A birthday tiara for the birthday girl” Fred states loudly, Y/N glances at the mirror hanging from the wall on her left sees a plastic silver and pink tiara perched upon her head.

“Oh god,” Y/N mumbles adjusting it slightly.

Lee shouts over the music, drawing everyone’s attention over to him. “Okay everyone, the ever lovely Angie has made us each a questionable looking but delicious drink to start the night. So get your butts over here and let’s get this party started!”

A few hours and many, many drinks later, everyone is huddled in the living room, sitting on the couches watching Y/N open her presents. So far, she had gotten some perfume from Angelina, chocolates and a gorgeous photo frame from Alicia and Fred and Lee had gifted Y/N with a bottle of wine and voucher from the little boutique at the corner of her street. Y/N’s cheeks were hurting from smiling so much and her heart swelled at the sweet gifts her friends had gotten her.

“Okay, only one left,” Alicia says, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Probably the best one,” Fred whispers to Lee.

“Of course it’s going to be the best one you idiot,” Angelina says as a matter of fact, overhearing the two boys.

George, who is sitting to Y/N’s right, hands over the brightly colour box, trying to hide his excitement and nerves. “Here you go Y/N, happy birthday.”

The box feels heavy in Y/N’s grasp as she places it in her lap tearing off the wrapping paper. Y/N glances around, noticing everyone’s eager eyes on her. She sees Angelina nudge Alicia’s side smiling at each other knowingly. Y/N furrow her brows, slightly confused then draws her attention back to the box. She ripped off the paper carefully and uncover a brown box, no hints as to what is inside.

“Oh my god, hurry up and open it the suspense is killing me!” Fred says impatiently, George whacks him across the head telling him to shut up.

Y/N take off the lid and immediately her mouth gapes open finally seeing what’s inside. She shakily lifts the film camera out of the box and hold it so gently as if it’s made of diamonds and gold.

Small tears prick in Y/N’s eyes, shocked and surprised at George’s gift, it looks exactly like the one her mother had.

She manages to squeak out a small, “you remembered?” referring to the first conversation they had 3 years prior.

George has a small smile etched onto his lips. “Of course I did, I remember everything you tell me. I take a lot of pride in knowing everything about you actually.” He says, puffing his chest out proudly.

“Yeah like what?” Y/N cradles the camera in her arms.

“Well,” George starts. “I know that you hate the smell tequila because it reminds you of your 18th when you spent most of the night by the toilet. I know that you can’t sleep if the room is dead quiet. I know that you love buying plants but can never seem to keep them alive. I know you never wear matching socks because you think it’s a fun way to spice up an outfit.” He finishes smugly.

Alicia and Angelina let out a small aww in the background reminding Y/N of the 4 other sets of eyes watching her and George right now.

“Well there’s one thing you don’t know about me.”

“Yeah? What’s that then?” George counters.

Y/N doesn’t know where she musters up the courage from to speak the next words, maybe from the alcohol buzzing through her body or finally being sick of keeping this to herself for the past 3 years. Whatever it may be, she’s rather proud of herself, ignoring the way her stomach churns.

“That I have a huge crush on you.”

She expected George to laugh in her face before rejecting her gently. What Y/N definitely didn’t expect was him to cradle her face in his large hands, pressing a sweet but passionate kiss to her pink lips. She squeaks in surprise before melting into the kiss, gripping onto his shirt tightly, scared he would slip away.

Much to Y/N’s dismay George pulls away from the kiss tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear, “no I knew that too.”

“Wha-how?” Y/N stutters.

The attention is pulled to Alicia as she begins to speak, “it wasn’t much of a secret babe. Everybody knew you were crushing on George. Can’t believe it took either one of you so long to do something about it.”

“Little Georgie here spent months trying to find that camera for you as a way to confess his undying love for you.” Fred reaches over and ruffles his twin’s hair who shoves him off.

“Yep, we were all so bloody excited for you to open his presents so you two can stop pining over each other.” Lee adds downing the rest of his drink then standing up. “Right, now the two love birds have finally confessed their feelings. Who’s up for a round of beer pong? Reigning champion here has yet to be defeated.”

“You’re on Jordan, that ego of yours has gotten large enough.” Fred challenges, everyone moving over to the table to set up for beer pong. Leaving Y/N and George alone on the couch.

George wraps his lanky arm around Y/N’s shoulder pulling her into his side, “I hope you’re enjoying your birthday bunny.”

Y/N grins widely, playing with her new camera before lifting it up and aiming it at George. “best birthday ever Georgie, thank you.” She squeezes the button down, snapping a picture of George who is staring at her like she’s the only person in the world.

Y/N is very content with being a background character, she’s quite used to it actually. But for once she doesn’t mind being the centre of someone’s undivided attention.

#George weasley #George weasley one shot #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fluff #george weasley fan fic #Fred and george #george weasley imagine #twrh9kwritingchallenge

456 notes · View notes

formenis · 3 years

Text

Lesson

Anon asked: “ Can you do a scenario where L hasn't sleep in a while and it got to the point where even the Task Force is worried about him so Watari calls L's secret S/O and she comes barging into HQ and starts yelling at L that he is getting sleep or she is drugging him so he will sleep and L just follows behind her like a love-sick puppy“

A/N: please everyone, let’s give L so much love! Our best detective needs some rest sometimes.

And consider English is not my first language so I’m sorry about all the mistakes you’ll find. I’m trying to improve.

pairing: L x fem!reader

warning: nope

requested: yes

Y/A = your alias

Once Watari said: «L has no internal clockwork or any concept of time. After 102 hours of staying awake, he slept for almost 17 hours» and for him it was not enough.

If you think it's strange, well you don't know L. He goes to the toilette by himself with open doors and slightly changed sitting position. Since he likes clearness, he bathes frequently. But he never washes himself; he just sits in Watari's special "human washer" which includes drying functions.

L is rather picky with regards to clothing, there are always ten or so identical sets of clothes prepared for him. But he cannot put them on by himself…no, rather, he never feels like doing it (Watari has to say something like "banzai" to tell L to lift his arms). Most of the time, he is in his room, sitting motionlessly in that position.

But Y/N L/N knows it very well. She is L's girlfriend for a long time and she is used to L's particular (and almost non-existent) routine. That's her patience and kind personality that caught L's attention. It all started when Y/N went at the Wammy's House for a job interview. They were searching for a new teacher and Y/N satisfied all the prerequisites. During her probationary period all children fell in love with their new teacher, so patient and gentle even with the most spiteful kid.

When Roger Ruvie, the Wammy's House manager when Watari was not there, sent his observations about this new candidate, L agreed in hiring her. And when he met her in person he was hypnotised by her. The children were right, she was special: Y/N became the mother, the sister, the aunt and the friend those children didn’t have. This captured the attention and the interest of the greatest detective in the world.

It didn’t take long for both Y/N and L to fall for each other: the young teacher was attracted by his intellect and by his gaze, so deep and mysterious; on the other hand, L was mesmerized by her personality and by her smirk she had whenever she was right about something. But the thing that convinced L that Y/N was the right one for him was when she beat him at chess.

«Checkmate»

At first, L didn’t pay attention to what she said but when he observed the chessboard he couldn’t hide his surprise. «Miss L/N…you won»

«That's what I said»

But back to the present. Y/N was at the Wammy's House checking the homework of her little students when Roger entered her classroom.

«Miss L/N, there's a call for you»

«Ah yes, thank you Roger» Y/N answers at the phone placed on her desk. «Hello?»

«Miss L/N, it's Watari» the old and warm voice of Quillsh Wammy (as known as Watari) echoed through the receiver.

«Good afternoon Watari, I was correcting some homework. Do you need something?»

«It's about L»

Since the beginning of the Kira case, L moved to Japan. He changed hotel every week until Watari finished the new HQ and for the task-force was compulsory not to use any electronic devices when they were with him. This meant L couldn’t call his beloved Y/N that often and he started to miss her.

In order to solve as fast as he could the Kira case, he dived in the work for entire days and nights. Sugar cubes and coffee were his meals and he almost refused to sleep. He focused his mind and all his being to the case.

At first, the task-force wasn’t that concerned since they realised L had particular habits. But week after week, month after month, the situation got worse. His eyebags became darker and heavier, his skin became more white than his shirt and in general he looked really sickly.

«Uhm Ryuzaki? Did you sleep last night?» Soichiro Yagami asked him, there was worry on his face.

«When the Kira case will be solved I'll sleep» L replied rather tiredly despite his monotone voice didn’t express it. But Watari, who was with them serving ice-cream to everyone, noticed it immediately. He couldn’t bear such sight, he had to do something so he made a decision: if nobody could convince L to rest, then Miss Y/N L/N will.

«That's why I need you here, Miss L/N»

«He didn’t sleep for how much, Watari?! Are you serious?»

«Unfortunately yes. He dedicated every part of his being to the case. And by "every part" I mean literally every part of him»

«I can't believe it. I'm coming there, Watari»

«Very well, Miss L/N»

♰ TIME SKIP ♰

When Y/N arrives in Japan she was truly amazes by that country, so full of life, lights and culture. She can't believe it's the same country where Kira is killing. However, at the moment she can only think about L. She is so worried about him and about his well-being: he can be so odious and stubborn about his work that he would gladly renounce to his health if it meant to solve a case.

Y/N is boiling from rage, L went too far. If he falls ill how can he solve the case? Despite the anger she feels, she is excited too: it's been months since she saw or heard L. She misses him so much…but at the same time she wants to scold him.

«He is more hard-headed than the children at the Wammy's!» Y/N mutters at Watari, who is driving the car. With an excuse, he left the HQ to go at the airport to pick Y/N up and now they were coming back.

«Yes, I know. It's the reason I called you…you are the only one who can convince Ryuzaki»

During the way towards the HQ, Watari informs her about the Kira case, the task-force and all L's suspects. At the same time Y/N warns him about all the new prodigies at the orphanage. The old man smiles kindly when he sees, through rear-view mirror, how Y/N's eyes shine when she started to talk about her students.

After an hour, the two of them arrives at this famous HQ: twenty-three floors aboveground and two floors belowground; Watari said there is a helipad on the roof of the building but the structure is designed so that the helipad and the two helicopters on it cannot be seen by those looking at the building from the exterior.

«Miss L/N, please use the back stairs. I deactivated the cameras so you can reach the monitoring room without being watched by Ryuzaki»

«Alright Watari, thanks»

Y/N did as instruct by him and takes the back stairs in order to reach the elevator. In her mind, Y/N is preparing the discourse to do at L: it doesn't matter if his colleagues are with him, he has to come to terms with her and starting to have a regular and healthy routine.

In the monitoring room nobody has any idea that the greatest detective's girlfriend is there in the same building as them. Actually they don’t know that L has a girlfriend either. So when the task-force see a young woman spread open the main door of the monitoring room they are quite shocked.

«Who is she?» Matsuda looked up from the papers in his hands. Shortly after that, all the other men looked up as well.

«L!»

That voice distracted L from his dossiers and through the reflection on his laptop he recognises Y/N. His lips become a thin line, a sudden rush of thoughts and emotions hits L at the same time. Why is she there? Something bad happened at the Wammy's House? Is it because he cuts ties with everyone during the investigations? Confusion, concern, worry, alarm…fear yet happiness, because he can see her after long time. L is overwhelmed.

«Everyone, please meet Miss Y/A, Ryuzaki's significant other» Watari introduces her at the task-force and each member gasped in shock.

«L! Watari told me you refused to eat properly, to sleep properly…to live properly!»

Ryuzaki spins his swivel chair towards her so Y/N has the chance to look better at him: hollow face, paler skin colour, dark and heavy eyebags. «Y/A, please, I'm not one of your student»

L is somehow relieved that Y/N was there because of him and not because something terrible happened to her or to the children at the orphanage. So he half-sighs in relief when she started to complain about is health.

«Well, you seem like one in this moment! I cannot bear seeing you like this, you know how much important health is for everyone. The lack of sleep or an unregulated diet will affect your mind and your efficiency will decrease! And how can you catch Kira if you're tired?»

Ah, how much L misses those cute "telling-offs". It is clearly Y/N's professional deformation: she worries about people and strangers as much as she does with the children at the Wammy's. So when she finishes her discourse, L couldn’t hide a wide smile.

«I guess you're right, Y/A» L pretended to be sorry but the truth is that he loves seeing that part of Y/N's personality.

«Of course I am! Now let's start from the sleeping part!» she walks closer to him and grabs the wrist. Then she drags him out of the monitoring room leading towards the bedroom. In L's eyes, admiration and love can be seen while Y/N continues with her discourse about a new healthy routine he has to start.

Right before entering the bedroom L stops and hugs Y/N from behind, his arms are around her chest now. «Y/N…you have no idea how much I missed you»

She smiles, removing her teacher mask for a moment, and looks at him. «I missed you too, cutie pie»

L rubs slightly his cheeks against hers in a cute act of affection. Having her in his arm is such a relief for him, L can sense a strong wave of tiredness on his shoulders. «Will you rest with me?»

«Of course~» Y/N caresses his dark hair, something she really misses doing. «I'll stay with you from now on»

#death note #death note headcanons #death note scenario #l x reader #l lawliet #watari #reader insert #female reader #x you #x y/n

334 notes · View notes