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#authors this is your moment HYPE YOURSELVES
bigbawdy-benzz · 9 months
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SUPER SHY 2.0
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Pairing: Miles 42! X Shy Black Plus Size Fem Reader
Tags: @idkmistake @aaliyahwalkshere @mama-2001
Summary: Y/N has finally been noticed by Miles, you already had Miles heart now you have it even more now that you two are bonding getting to know each other.
A/N: I'm glad you guys loved the other one so much!! So here's pt.2 a day later I hope you guys love this one as well!! ENJOYYYYY as the author I was giggling and kicking my feet rooting for y’all. Btw if you didn’t read Pt.1 go read it before this one!! pt3
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“I'm Y/N thank you so much”. You say taking your books trying to hide your smile.
“No problem Y/N also I like your shoes” Miles stated with a smile, you looked down at your shoes then looked at his smiling even wider looking back up at him.
“Thank you we’re matching” Y/N replied. Miles looked at his shoes smirking looking at Y/N
“Coincidence” He said swiftly walking away with his friends. You were hooping and hollering in your head trying not to scream.
“GIRLLLLLLLLL” Aaliyah shouted.
“Damn that was a very intense moment” Ocean states with her eyes widened looking at You.
“That's your man cannot convince me ANY less” Aaliyah exclaimed, throwing her hands up.
“Seriously did you see the way he LOOKED at you when y’all were talking AND the mamita that's all yours Y/N”. Ocean added to Aaliyah’s statement
“PLS don’t add on to my delusions, let's get to class” You stated before, y'all were late to class. You and your friends contained yourselves going to your math class. You couldn’t concentrate on anything but Miles was running through your mind it was hard to pull yourself together. Your friends noticed laughing quietly. You looked at them with a smile, you went on your phone to distract yourself seeing the following icon pop up on instagram, you clicked it seeing ‘therealmilesgmorales’ has followed you. Your eyes light up showing your friends your phone.
“Ohhhh mmmmm ggggggg” Aaliyah whispered.
“You better get on that luv cause that's officially your man he followed you” Ocean stated smirking at You.
“Real delulu screaming out my man” You sang causing you and your friends to giggle, in your peripheral vision your teacher eyed yall.You guys immediately started doing your work praying the bell rings soon. You went back to daydreaming with the biggest smile on your face, you heard the bell ring grabbing your things exiting the class room with your friends. The rest of the school day went by smoothly, you saw Miles in the hallway shooting him smiles and he smiled right back at you. The end of the day approached and you were about to leave with your friends.
“Hey Mamita” Miles said approaching you, you were smiling from ear to ear.
“Hi Miles” You said shyly.
“Is it okay if I walk you home?”. Miles asked, You looked at your friends and then back at Miles they nodded their heads at you.
“Yes of course” You replied.
“BYEEE Y/N WE LOVE YOU” Aaliyah shouted
“BE SAFE BOOKIE” Ocean Shouted as well as you were leaving with Miles.The walk was dead silent for 5 minutes because you were too shy to say anything, Miles picked up on this smiling at you.
“What you listening to?” Miles asks
“I'm listening to Best I ever had by Drake” You reply
“That's my shiiit play it I wanna listen”. He says you take your airpod out blasting the song. Miles starts singing, you look at him chuckling joining him cause fuck it.
“Baby, you my everything, you all I ever wanted We could do it real big, bigger than you ever done it You be up on everything, other hoes ain't ever on it I want this forever, I swear, I can spend whatever on it” The both of you sing laughing having a good time walking home. You were smiling the whole walk, Miles started dancing while walking making you laugh.
“AYEEEE” you shouted hyping him up, you appreciated how he made you feel comfortable by doing simple things. Quite frankly Miles did not give a damn about how he might have looked crazy; it made you feel comfortable enough to sing at the top of your lungs with him.
“Who else you listen to ma?” Miles asks with a smile, seeing you smile
“I listen to Brent Faiyez, Tyler the Creator, Steve lacy, Shreea Kaul, the list goes on”. You reply smiling from ear to ear.
“I like Brent Faiyez, Tyler the Creator,Steve Lacy, I have to listen to Shreea Kaul. We gotta get together, do nothing and listen to music you a Vibe” Miles stated, looking at you with the cutest smile on your face.
“Tienes una hermosa sonrisa” Miles said, making you want to fall to your knees, the way it rippled off his tongue, the way his voice sounded it tingled you just right. (You have a beautiful smile)
“Thank you Miles” You said shyly, Miles chuckled.
“You gettin shy on me Mamita?”. He says confidently being a tease, the way everything rolled off his tongue did something to you.
“Noo of course not”. You say looking away from Miles.
“Awe it’s okay, I have a question for you”. Miles expressed
“What's your question?” You ask while still looking away from him, he brought his hand to your chin turning your head to look at him, you were flustered trying not to blush.
“Can I take you out Tomorrow?” He asks, caressing your cheek with his thumb, you fall into his touch looking at him.
“Yes you can take me out” You say receiving a smile from Miles, he wanted to kiss you right then and there but it was too soon way too soon. He stopped touching your face realizing you’ve made home.
“Don’t worry about where we are going, I'm going to figure it out,it's going to be a surprise just show up looking pretty I'm going to show you how pretty girls are treated”. Miles stated looking you in the eyes.
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Stay tuned for pt 3!!!
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thepaperpanda · 1 year
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Under the Mistletoe || Keigo Takami xfem!reader
Masterlist ❄
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Summary: Hawks found the perfect way of using mistletoe against you.
Warnings: none
Word count: 672
Author: Cass
A/N: today’s prompt: Kissing Under a Mistletoe Devider by Firefly Graphics - ⛄
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Despite all the hype, you didn't really celebrate Christmas. Your family was mostly out of the country, and you couldn't simply leave because of work. It's not that you hated this particular time of the year or anything, you simply didn't have anyone to celebrate it with.
You were honored to be a sidekick of number two here and to participate in a little celebration Hawks organized to soothe everyone a bit.
You turned around, checking yourself in the mirror. Often you could also dress up a bit more fancy for work - of course you loved your costume, but it was nice to have a chance to dress up a little differently.
As soon as you were satisfied with how the dress lay on you, you nodded at yourself and left for work.
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There was something odd about it - even though you knew these people, it was strange to see them out of their gears for so long, but it was still enjoyable to meet up with them. It was actually fun chatting with your friends about something other than work or training. The whole thing lasted until you felt a red feather tickle your cheek. Excusing yourself, you went to the door and immediately got snatched into the empty office. 
"Well, well, well. Look at you! Always in your gear, and here you are. All dolled up in your dress, with those high heels on!" Hawks laughed, kissing at your cheek before nuzzling you to his neck. "Maybe we should change your dress code for this type of outfit?" Hawks suggested.
Shaking your head, you laughed. "Don't you dare! Do you realize how hard it is to run in those hills? You seriously expect me to keep up with you?"
Hawks looked at you and shrugged before hugging you tightly; he hated hiding your shared relationship from others, but it made him feel safer.
"Don't be like this. I would have a nice view to see every day," Keigo taunted.
"Keigo, I don't mean to be rude, but if they notice us missing, they will all find out about us, after connecting all the dots." You kissed him gently and promised, "I'll wear this outfit more often in private for you."
As he pulled away, he nodded with an annoyed grimace on his face. "I want to see you later, okay? Promise?"
After agreeing, you left the office, pretending nothing had happened.
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In the middle of chatting with your friends, you felt an arm wrap around your shoulders.
It was none other than Hawks himself asking, "I see most of you are enjoying yourselves here. Mind if I take Y/N for a moment?"
As a result, no one objected or dared to say no to number two, so you were pretty soon dragged away.
After raising your eyebrows, you looked at Keigo and then at everyone else as he stopped right in the open door. You were the center of attention for some reason; it was confusing.
Your confusion was noticed, and he smiled cockily, pointing his index finger up.
There was mistletoe hanging right above your head, and you could have sworn that there had never been mistletoe there before! That meant he did it on purpose just so he could kiss you without revealing too much.
You were flung into a needy kiss after Hawks gave you an innocent shrug.
Grabbing his jacket, you kissed him back with a soft, annoyed growl. As soon as he pulled away, you shook your head and smiled at Keigo. "You couldn't stop yourself, couldn't you?"
"What can I say? I was never too patient, and Christmas time I had to take advantage of this little window of time," he shrugged and snatched the mistletoe before waving it in front of you. In a quiet voice, Keigo explained, "I need to keep it. It will be useful." Then, he walked away like nothing had happened.
Standing completely stunned, you were soon surrounded by slightly jealous friends asking many questions about the kiss.
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1ddiscourseoftheday · 3 years
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Thurs 10 June ‘21
DREAMS DO COME TRUE and fanfics do come to life, how lucky are we? Seriously though, cooking show Louis AND footie Louis in one day, have we finally crossed out of the dark timeline and into some kind of blessed AU?! Louis is doing a COOKING SHOW (well, a little cooking video), and even better- it’s one of those things where he tries to recreate a recipe on his own for the camera! Full Time Meals is part of Marcus Rashford’s campaign to end child food insecurity in the UK. Celebrity chef Tom Kerridge makes easy meals from cheap ingredients for folks to follow along with, so Louis shouldn’t have too much trouble- good for him, though maybe not quite as entertaining for us, but this is one step closer to Celebrity Bake Off, keep dreaming big and crossing those fingers! Kerridge will post his recipe video on Sunday, and then Monday they’ll post Louis making the same thing. The preview pic is just long ass hair everywhere OMG. Put on a hairnet, hippie! NOT ONLY THAT I guess he is still at the studio, but hey that just means more video for us and not only that, today’s fan videos are of Louis kicking a football around- look at him GO!- with CHILDREN, goddddd. TOOO much, truly excellent.
My Policeman filming officially wrapped, and Harry took a fan pic in London (with a fan called… Harry!) Harry (Styles) is wearing his “louie” shirt (hey I didn’t name the thing okay it’s literally called that) and carrying his blue bandana in his back pocket (on the left, relevant if hanky code, probably not relevant if he was just carrying it for hay fever symptoms or whatever.)
Liam assured us that the Vegas entrepreneur dinner will be very fun and (in his underwear, hello) said that he loves his discord and he did a live chat about Lonely Bug and NFTs. He said, “lonely bug is my inner child,” there will be LB merch- “very limited toy drop might add clothes don’t know,” that the new song has “very very bright lyrics,” and said both that his knee is sore and that his knee is much better thanks, how very Liam.
And in a (these days rare for me) dip into fandom discourse, I see writer Kaitlyn Tiffany is back making the rounds of blogs for her book about the 1D fandom and how craaaazzzy larries are; BLOCK HER. Her tumblr url is kaittiffany (EDIT SJDKJFKS she has deleted since this morning OK THEN but she will be back again; I’m leaving this in for next time as we definitely haven’t seen the last of her, plus you know I went to all the trouble of writing it.) A book actually reporting on this complex and somewhat unique fandom objectively from a place of interest and curiosity would be fascinating and totally worthwhile… but sadly this REALLY ain’t it. She has made it clear she has no intention of actually writing about the intricacies of this fandom, only in finding material to bolster her already decided upon thesis about the ‘clinical paranoia’ and conspiracy theorizing of young women online. Her entire premise is based on her own preconceived bias, and she came here to find things to support her premise rather than coming up with it based on what she saw (not to mention it’s totally dated at this point, she really missed the cultural moment on that) and she has no interest in hearing what we have to say, only in pathologizing to support the sensationalist brief she probably got a publishing advance for and finding things to pull out of context to make her already decided on points. Anyway she wrote the intern- who had not blocked her to that account, oops- offering the ‘choice’ between one of our posts being quoted in her book with or without a name attached GEE THANKS SUCH GREAT OPTIONS; once she sees anything she wants to pull out of context, you can’t do anything about it (this is a public platform), so just block her so she doesn’t see it in the first place.
Hey but since we’re not getting an actual balanced book about the fandom maybe someone should write a companion book to hers analyzing the psychological phenomena of antis! Hey publishers, I can throw around buzz words too plus unlike her I know what I’m talking about as an actual member of this community, check it out: I propose an analysis in the aftermath of the Trump era of ‘othering’ in online spaces and how certain fandom groups operate as a socially acceptable entry level location of practice in demonizing a peer population which can act as a gateway to normalizing the othering of other cultures, races, etc. In this essay book I will address how fans experience peer validation and support to egg each other on in bullying other people because those people have been coded as Other and Wrong and because their community reinforces the idea that attacking other humans is Good Behavior and that normal constraints and ethics are suspended when people need to be Made to Understand the Righteous Truth and that any means justify that end, and how that carries over into non-fandom life and is dangerous as hell. Now THAT’S timely, DM for deets about where to send my advance!
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A Girl Like You
AO3 Link
Pairing: Little bit of Wolffe x fem!Jedi Reader
Summary: You end up having a lightsaber sparring match with Anakin and the clones watch on from the sidelines. Wolffe admires the view.
Warnings: 13+, Wolffe eyeing up the reader.
Word Count: 2k
Author's Notes: This is my first attempt at writing some sort of battle scene, I hope I pulled it off alright. This is mostly a fic about the Dathomiri/Mandalorian reader in order to help me practice writing battles, but I have thrown in Wolffe being cheeky because I couldn't resist. Any feedback is always appreciated, as are reblogs! Fic is below the cutoff, thanks very much for reading x
You’re not entirely sure how you got yourself into this situation. You’d been sitting among a few members of your battalion, the 104th, along with General Skywalker, Commander Tano, the usual suspects from the 501st and a few of the Coruscant Guard commanders, getting yourselves ready to head out for a night out among the lower levels of Coruscant. While you’d been waiting for the last few stragglers to get some fresh armour on before heading out, Anakin had somehow dragged you into some pissing contest about lightsaber designs and which were the most effective in combat. You carried a double bladed weapon, and Anakin had been poking you about how ineffective he’d found them to be in battle. You know he was just trying to get a rise out of you and you hated that it worked.
So that’s how you ended up here, with the challenge of a sparring match presented to you by Anakin. He wanted to test his theory as to what weapon was superior in battle.
“Loser buys the first round at 79’s for everyone” The General suggested. You looked around, there must be at least twenty of you heading out tonight, would your credits even cover that?
“You’re on.” Guess you could always get a few waters and lie to the men. Fox could probably do with a slow start to the drinking anyways.
The three Jedis present used the force to clear some tables out the way, creating a space for the fight. Ahsoka outlined some rules before the event began, which were; no force use on each other, no dirty tricks and please don’t actually hurt each other. Should the latter happen, at least they had Kix there ready to fix them up, even if he was supposed to be off duty.
Once the space was cleared, you got up from your spot amongst the Wolfpack who were hyping you up like you were some pay-per-view sports person about to head into the ring. The 501st boys were cheering for Anakin as Rex gave him a pep talk before sending him off into their makeshift battle arena.
The two of you took your spots opposite each other. You were both still wearing your usual battle clothes, just clean alternatives. Anakin’s fresh, dark coloured robes were neatly wrapped around him, his growing hair hanging just above his eyes as he readied himself for the fight.
You yourself were in a form fitting grey and white jumpsuit which flared slightly at the leg. The sleeves were short, showing off the grey Dathomiri markings on your arms which were dotted across your fair Mandalorian skin. Your whole ensemble was finished off with a single, battle-worn shoulder piece which carried the Wolfpack insignia. Your short blonde hair was in it’s signature half up, half down look, keeping it out of your way.
You both readied yourselves and your eyes met. You could feel the confidence radiating off of him and you knew exactly why. Despite being the same age as Anakin, you were still a Padawan under Master Plo. However, from your Master’s recent suggestions, that wouldn’t be the case for long.
You took a moment to calm yourself. Remembering your training, you let the audience disappear until it was just the two of you. You opened your eyes and readied your lightsaber. You took the handle and held it out in front of you, the space for the two blades coming out either side of your grip. You clicked the weapon on and it buzzed to life. Two green blades in perfect unison. You twirled the weapon around your fingers, pulling it to your side as you got into your initial stance. Leaning back on your right bent leg, your left outstretched in front of you, one half of your weapon inches away from the right side of your head, ready to go.
Anakin had done the same and with some flare, had gotten into his stance. You were both ready.
“After you, Skyguy” and with that, Anakin took the first lunge. You brought your lightsaber up just below your chin, holding it sideways to block his straight swipe down across your head. Your faces inches apart before you both pushed off of each other and started stalking around in a circle, waiting for who would make the next move.
An unspoken understanding in the air between you both, the knowledge that you could push each other to your limits, in a way the Jedi wouldn’t normally encourage in training. The thought sent a slight thrill through your body, you always went into every battle with utmost control, always trying to be a model Commander. You always had to prove to the council that you weren’t a threat, that you could the resist the dark side that came so naturally to your kind. But right now, for the first time, you could really let loose and trial your power with Anakin as you knew he’d be doing the exact same.
The tension in the room was thick, the focused stares between the Jedi entrancing everyone present as they danced around one another.
You both rushed to the centre of the space, sabres clashing right in front of your faces. A cyan glow lit up your features, both sporting wicked grins. The power you both held evident among the spectators. You thought you heard a few gasps from the crowd, but all your focus was directed at the Knight in front of you. His feral smirk held as he spoke from behind the clash of your weapons. “Don’t get too flustered now, I know I look great under blue light”
“Don’t flatter yourself, General” You chuckled as you pushed off each other. Stalking once more.
When you clashed again, it was all a blur. Hit after hit. He was relentless. Your weapons created a bright light show as you kept up with Anakin’s offensive. He pushed you further back, the wall behind you growing closer. You blocked his next hit and took a moment to plan. He was getting confident, too confident. You could use that to your advantage.
You ducked below his next swing and went for his legs, causing him to do a backflip back to the centre. Finally, some breathing room. Now it was your turn to go on the offensive. You charged forward and restarted the fast pace. Delivering blow after blow to Anakin’s defence. Your double blades keeping him on his toes as you made sure to never favour one side of your weapon.
You were both high from the strength you put on display, you don’t remember the last time you let loose like this. You were both sweating slightly, grinning at the enjoyment of such a challenging fight. One strike from Anakin had you swinging your lightsaber over you shoulder to guard your back, as you blocked a particularly dirty move from the General. From the sidelines, you heard Ahsoka reprimanding her Master and reminding him that this was only a sparring match. You raised your eyebrow at the General who just shrugged, still sporting a confident smirk on his face. It was on.
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The clones were mesmerised. Of course they’d seen their Jedis fight hundreds of times in battle, but they never had the time to just watch and appreciate. The pair were so different, where Anakin was like a controlled tornado, skill and strength on the brink of being unleashed. Your approach was measured, plotting, more like a slow song building up. Every move you made was calculated, as if you were playing a game of chess.
Wolffe couldn’t help but appreciate the view as you lunged an attack at Anakin. You and Wolffe had been fighting alongside each other for years now but he’d never really seen you like this. Your orange eyes sharp, body tense, feet light as you danced with Anakin. Green and blue clashing. Your moves so smooth and flowing into one another yet contrasted by displays of dangerous power, reminding him of the waters back on Kamino. You looked incredible and he couldn’t help getting pulled into the atmosphere, cheering alongside the rest of his brothers. There was a new feeling in his chest as he watched you battle. Their Jedi. His Jedi.
He continued to stare as the fight raged on. He bloomed with pride when his eyes found your Wolfpack insignia on your shoulder, which perfectly matched your battalion colour-scheme outfit. Speaking of, his eyes couldn’t help themselves as they drifted along your body, finding all the places where that jumpsuit hugged your small curves just right. The way your toned arms strained as you swung your weapon. The way your skin markings lead beneath the v-neckline you’d left at the front of your jumpsuit from the zipper, teasing almost. You were a vision. Maker get ahold of yourself. He shook his head, as if it would clear the racy thoughts from his mind. It didn’t.
Back at the event, there were lulls and peaks in the fight, moments where you were studying each other and others where your lightsabers were in near constant contact as you fought to keep up with the other’s moves.
“You’ve got this General, take her down” Jesse shouted from his position in the sidelines.
“Commander, kick his ass!” Boost piped up in your support.
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The crowd getting involved seemed to spur Anakin on further, your next clash resulted in him being able to swing your lightsaber from your grasp. Kriff. Suddenly you felt the tell-tale heat radiating off his weapon onto your throat, only a few millimetres separating them. The 501st were cheering in support of their General while Anakin looked over to his adoring fans, soaking up the praise. You just smirked from your defenceless position.
“You shouldn’t get so cocky, General” you stated casually, pulling him out of his moment.
“What?” Before he could react, you knocked his weapon away from your chin as your right leg hooked around the back of his and sent him sprawling onto his back. You used the force to grab his weapon as you went to kneel on his chest, his own lightsaber now readied towards his throat.
The crowd watched on in shock for a few seconds before the Wolfpack jumped out their seats and started cheering. You’d officially just defeated The Chosen One in a sparring match.
You chuckled at their reactions and Anakin’s pout before helping the General up. You returned his weapon and watched as he stalked back over to his battalion, his pride in tatters. Looking over at your own squad, Comet and Boost were winding up Jesse and Fives over how their Jedi was superior.
As you made your way back over the 104th troopers jumped on you chanting “Wolfpack! Wolfpack! Wolfpack!” some of them even started howling. You just laughed and pushed them off you.
“You’re such dorks” you chuckled, ruffling Sinker’s hair as he walked back to his seat.
“I believe you dropped this sir” Wolffe came over and extended your weapon out to you. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to retrieve your weapon from wherever it’d be thrown in a fight.
“Thank you, Commander” you said with a smile. You were both standing slightly away from the others who were still teasing the 501st, with help from Commander Thorn. Wolffe had a strange look on his face, like he was contemplating something.
“You looked good out there” he piped up, his usual bravado replaced with something more unsure. However, his walls were back up before you could tell what it was.
“You telling me I look good, Wolffe?” You teased, hoping to wind him up a little bit.
“Maybe I am” he replied with a smirk, his eyes giving you a once over boldly in front of you. You blushed at the sudden attention. Well this was new.
“You two Commanders done flirting or can we go now? There’s a free round waiting for us!” Ahsoka shouted from across the way.
You and Wolffe looked at each other for a moment longer before you chuckled and nodded your head in the direction of the exit. “We should head off”.
As you walked side by side with the clone Commander, you thought back to the way he looked at you. There was something in his eyes, admiration, maybe even want? You couldn’t tell, but you definitely wanted to find out. Maybe a few drinks would loosen him up enough to see what was going on in that handsome head of his.
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char-lotteral · 3 years
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I agree with Kishimoto never trying to use the girls. The hate they get is not fair. I used to defend Sakura back in the days because I hoped kishi would do her justice. When shippuden started I WAS SO HAPPY because I thought this was the start of something great for Sakura and the girls but NOOOOO. Every time, Sasuke showed kishi turned her brainless. If you compare Naruto's actions and Sakura's actions to sasuke, you'd see they're completely different. What's up with that weird fake love confession scene 😭? It makes her look like she was manipulating Naru. JEEZ.
Also he literally had badass Tenten and Temari with cool useful abilities and he didn't use them ?! TF ?! Thank god for modern authors who treat their characters with respect :)
okay2 you know how i am with these longass rants so click readmore and brace yourselves
The way I see it, Sakura's character development in shippuden was always one step forward, two steps back. She gets this really badass scene (like her fight with Sasori and those cool ass medical skills) but is then regressed back into a pining girl in love every time Sauce is on screen or Kishi just throws her in the background YET AGAIN.
I love Sakura's abilities actually. Her brute strength, intelligence, vast knowledge and skill as a medic nin. But what I dislike about her character is how kishi handled her feelings for Sasuke. Naruto and Sakura's obsession with Sasuke was so???? huh??? it was so damn toxic and i never once understood why both Nardo and Sak were so obsessed with him. They were a team for one year???? I mean its great that they care about him alot but Sauce's feelings were kinda valid. His freakin clan died. Id go batshit crazy against my own village too. BUT BESIDES THAT. Both Nart and Sakura's Sasuke obsession was so annoying. 80% of shippuden was literally Keeping up with the Uchihas or Naruto yelling SASUKEH. BUT what irks me so much is the fandom's double standards with both Naruto and Sakura. "Oh Sakura shouldve gotten over her Sasuke obsession" but then turn around and call Naruto's obsession cute and gush about how he's so in love with him!!
Hot take but the only reason why sasunaru is "the most developed ship with the most chemistry" is because theyre both male characters.
I guarantee you if Naruto was a girl and SHE would be the one to have this unhealthy obsession who was chasing around Sasuke, the fandom would shit on Naruto just as much. And if Sasuke were a girl, Sauce would be sidelined like the rest of the female cast and Naruto would have another male character to have a "brotherly bond" with, because thats the only bond Kishimoto is actually good at developing. Yey for male characters having all the screentime and cool assets <333
And about that confession scene, I get her intentions. I really do. I understand that she did that in order to bring him home and that she cares about him but honey, w-why?? Why lie to him about your feelings?? Supposed he DID believe her, then what? then what kishi???? huh??? Some of her fans point the blame on Sai or whatever but I personally dont see why that scene was at all necessary. Maybe to establish Naruto's feelings for her wasnt all that serious? or his maturity? idk man. That scene was such a clusterfuck.
In the end her development in The Last and in Boruto was immaculate. She had one of the best glow ups in the old gen and ironically enough, her character wasn't butchered in Boruto. She got badass scenes she was cheated from in shippuden. I also love how she's finally getting the spotlight she deserves. Unlike the other konoha 12 :,)))
Okay onto the next female character that Kishi completely wasted. My baby. My light. 🙈 AAAHHH HINATAA.
I DONT EVEN KNOW WHERE TO BEGIN OKAY2 DEEP BREATHS.
Let me just establish this real quick. Hinata's goal was to get stronger because of Naruto, her goal was never to be with Naruto. She wanted to become someone who is worthy enough to stand beside him, someone whom he can consider as an equal, as a partner. She NEVER once said "marrying Naruto-kun is my all time goal UwU" (if youre one of those weirdos who interpret her character that way, youre immediately invalid, go take a hike)
I personally dont have anything against their crushes but to the point of making their personalities revolve around these guys every time theyre onscreen is so fucking frustrating. And with the way he writes their dialogues is so.damn.cringey. Like that one scene in the war arc with Tsunade and Madara
"I mAy bE a WomAn but I aM nOt WeAAKKKK"
BAAHAHAAHHA WHAT?? Everyone else gets coolass monologues and one liners but thats the best you can come up with Kishi?????? Hilarious.
If im being honest. Hinata's character is actually kinda well written. Not well executed. Dear God no. But with the way he set her story, her personality, her chracterization. She's honestly one of the best written female characters on the show. IMO. By Kishi's standards of writing women ofc. She's hands down one of the most complex characters. Her shy personality wasnt out of the blue, it wasnt a cutesy waifu trait. Her abusive upbringing made her that way. Her trauma turned her that way. So yeah, sue her if she looked up to Naruto as an inspiration when everyone else in her family treated her like dust. Shit on her for having Naruto's love light in her dark when her own damn father wouldnt even look her in the eye and her entire clan shunned her because she was "weak." She doesnt owe her family shit so idgaf what they do with the Hyuga clan. Neji and Hanabi aren't included btw
Im not gonna deny that her role in the show was only as the love interest but tbh for a love interest, Im glad her character wasnt so one dimensional. It just pains me SO MUCHHH how fucking wasted she is. Every time she's with Naruto, they always make her into a damsel in distress. They always feel the need to turn Naruto into the heroic prince. How cute.
LIKE THAT ONE SCENE IN THE LAST WHERE SHE'S THROWN IN THE CAGE?? WHY??? LET NARUTO AND HINA FIGHT THAT FREAKING ALIEN GOD TOGETHER. QUIT WITH THE TOXIC MASCULINITY. WE GET IT. NARUTO'S STRONG. GOOD FOR HIM. NOW LETS SEE HINATA THROW HANDS AND PUT NARUTO IN THE CAGE GODAMMIT
Hnggggg dont get me started with her role in Boruto. She's as relevant as a damn houseplant in the manga. They made her into an invisible trophy wife and "the mc's mother" and we all KNOW what happens to the shounen mc's mother once mc is in need of character development :) Quit putting her in the background. Give us that scene where she won against Hanabi DESPITE being retired for years. Give us that scene where she trains Boruto. GIVE US ANY FIGHT SCENE OF HER WHERE HER POTENTIAL ISNT WASTED WTF?¿
Now if you say that Hinata didnt have development. YOURE INVALID. She came from an abusive household, the shyest girl in her class, her insecurities got in the way of her own confidence, had difficulty of standing up for herself now became a loving mother of two, has the guts to kick her husband out of the house(with whom she couldnt even keep eye contact with when she was a kid) became the strongest hyuga, most supportive wife and mother, and has given her kids the comforting childhood she never had as a kid.
She has one of the most beautiful stories in the show and if you think her personality is only Naruto-kun and big boobs, then im sorry that you cant appreciate such a heartwarming story.
And I agree, killing her would honestly make me feel more at ease than continue to see her suffer because of godawful misogynistic writers. But at least let her die in an epic fight. Please. PLEASEE. She got nerfed so bad, i feel a physical pain every time i think about it
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Okay what else. I think Ino got pretty good development. Another wasted potential in shippuden but she's doing good for herself in Boruto. I dont know what Temari is up to. They basically made her into another classic angry mom who beats up her husband for comedy trope. Haha very funny and original! Im not sure with her career, im not that invested in the anime.
Tenten??
oh G O D Tenten. The dirtiest of all. Her jokes about her screentime is so mean and i hate that its true ahsjhs. She was the only female character in OG who's goal wanted to be as strong as Tsunade but what did Kishi do to her?? Sidelined. Forgotten. Irrelevant. Like every damn female on the show :D
Konan shouldnt have died. I blame plot armor. I know in my heart that Konan wouldve kicked Obito's ass if it weren't for Kishi's boomer mindset.
Tsunade had so much hype when she was introduced but died down in the war arc. Madara wiped the floor with the kages. Holy shit. Not only that, but yipee! Naruto is there to save the day AGAIN!!!!
AND UGHHHH If the female characters were given proper treatment then maybe MAYBE all the endgame couples wouldve made fucking sense????¿¿¿
I think that ends my rant. Im not sure how the female characters in Boruto are handled. Except maybe Sarada (she's pretty well executed in the manga imo). But arguably they are sooo much better handled in Boruto than how the old gen girls were. And thats because Kishi isnt anywhere near the new gen female cast. I cant formulate a solid opinion with the other new gen female cast since im not entirely invested in the anime. Not ashamed to admit that I only watch it for the sunshine moments and for Hinata :DD
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the wedding ~ machine gun kelly
part one   part two   part three   part four   part five   part six   part seven   part eight   part nine   part ten   part eleven   part twelve   part thirteen
word count: 2387
request?: no
description: a year later, you and colson are finally getting your fairytale ending at the end of the aisle
pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader
warnings: swearing, lots of fluff
masterlist
series masterlist
*read the author’s note at the end!*
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One Year Later
You winced as your sister accidentally yanked your hair again. “At this rate, you’re gonna have my hair yanked out before I get to the end of the aisle.”
“I’m sorry I’m trying to make sure it’s perfect,” Hailie responded.
“Here,” your mom said, replacing Hailie’s spot behind you. “A mother is more gentle.”
“The amounts of times I went to school with a sore head begs to differ,” Hailie teased.
But your mom was definitely right, she was much more gentle than Hailie. Before you knew it, your hair was finished and you were ready to get married.
You stood to look at yourself in the full length mirror. Your wedding dress was absolutely gorgeous, and Hailie had also done your makeup, with waterproof makeup luckily enough because you already felt like you were going to cry.
Your mom put her hands on your shoulder and smiled at you through the mirror. “My baby is growing up. Feels like just yesterday I was watching you walk for the first time.”
You put your hands over hers. “Please don’t cry, mom, I don’t want to start crying yet.”
“I know, I’m sorry honey. It’s just a very emotional da.”
You turned to face your mom, putting one arm around her and extending the other to Hailie. She stepped into your group hug and the three of you hugged each other.
“I’m so proud of you both,” your mom said, kissing your and Hailie’s foreheads.
A knock came at the door and as the three of you pulled apart, the door opened revealing your father in his suit. He looked you over and you could see the slight sadness and emotion in his eyes. “It’s time.”
Hailie hugged you once more before going to take her place as the Maid of Honor. As your mom went to leave, she paused next to your dad to look back at you. “We did good at raising some amazing daughters.”
Your dad smiled and gave your mom a hug before she went to take her seat. You were left with your dad. Neither of you really knew what to say. You were still trying to keep your tears at bay.
“I’m proud of you,” your dad finally said. “Even if I don’t like your husband to be.”
“You wouldn’t like him no matter who he was,” you teased. “But thank you dad.”
He extended an arm to you. “Let’s go before either of us start crying.”
You chuckled and took his arm. He led you down the stairs and to the end of the line of bridesmaids and groom’s men.
You and Colson had rented a sort of country club building, setting up the outside for the wedding ceremony and the inside for the reception. Your sisters were your bridesmaids, with Hailie being the Maid of Honor, and two of Colson’s crew, Rook and Slim, as his groom’s men and Pete as his Best Man. Casie was your flower girl and your youngest cousin, the son of your Uncle Nate, was your ringbearer.
You anxiously waited and felt your heart leap to your throat when the music began to play. One by one, the bridesmaids and groom’s men walked down the aisle, followed by Casie and your cousin. When it was finally your turn, you took a deep breath to try and calm your nerves.
“Don’t worry,” your dad assured you. “When you start walking down that aisle, the only person you’ll see is Colson.”
He was right. At first, as you started down the aisle, you were very aware of all the eyes on your, until you locked eyes with Colson, then it was as if everyone else disappeared.
He looked so handsome in his tux, and he was smiling through the tears of happiness on his face. Finally, the tears started to fall down your own face, and you were definitely grateful for the waterproof makeup.
Before passing you to Colson, your dad gave you another hug and a kiss on your forehead. You smiled at him before turning to Colson.
“You look beautiful,” Colson breathed.
“And you look handsome,” you responded.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the priest started, “we are gathered here today to celebrate the love between Colson Baker and (Y/N) Mathers. Before we get to their vows, is there anyone here who objects to this holy matrimony?”
There’s at least one person here who could, you thought to yourself, eyeing your dad briefly. But you knew that, even if your dad still wasn’t a fan of Colson, he saw how happy you were with him, and he didn’t want to get in the way of that.
“Now, you two have written your own vows, correct?”
You both nodded and looked at each other expectantly, causing yourselves and the audience to chuckle. Colson gestured to you, allowing you to go first.
“I, (Y/N) Mathers, promise to be your biggest fan. I promise to be by your side through the long nights of writing and recording, to always be waiting for you to come home after a long tour, to hype you up at all hours of the day. I promise to always love and to always be there for you, until the end of time.”
Colson squeezed your hands, more tears starting to fall down his face. “And I, Colson Baker, promise to be the best husband I can be. I promise to treat you like the queen that you are, to constantly call you while I’m away to the point where you’ll probably just turn off your phone to get rid of me - ” You giggled at this. “ - to make you feel like the most special girl to ever live, because to me, you are.”
You fought the urge to wipe the tears from your face, knowing you’d smudge your makeup if you did. Through tears, you managed to choke out, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Colson responded.
“May we have the rings?” the priest asked.
Your Uncle Nate nudged your cousin, who approached with the rings. Colson took yours first and positioned it in front of your finger.
“Do you, Colson Baker, take (Y/N) Mathers to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, til death do you part?”
“I do.”
Colson slid the ring onto your finger. You smiled at him as you took his ring and held it in front of his finger.
“And do you, (Y/N) Mathers, take Colson Baker to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, til death do you part?”
“I do.”
You slid the ring onto Colson’s finger. You held hands again and turned back to the priest.
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”
Colson wasted no time in wrapping his arms around you and kissing you deeply as your guests applauded and cheered.
And just like that, you became Mrs. Baker.
~~~~~~
After a few pictures, the dinner and cake, and some embarrassing stories from both your family and Colson’s, it was time for the dances. Colson went first, dancing with an old family friend that basically raised him like a mother. While planning the wedding, both of you debated on even sending an invite to Colson’s mom. You knew he didn’t have a great relationship with her and had barley talked to her in years, so you decided it would be best if she didn’t attend. At first, you wanted to skip over the father-daughter/mother-son dances and just have the official first dance, but Colson insisted on keeping to that tradition, if nothing else.
Once their song was over, it was announced that it was yours and your dad’s turn. Your dad led you to the dancefloor and put one hand on your waist, while holding the other. You began to sway back and forth to the music together.
“I can’t believe my baby is married,” he sighed. “And of all people, you really had to choose fucking Machine Gun Kelly.”
You chuckled. “I know, we’ve been over this a million times. I’m sorry I didn’t choose a guy that worships the ground you walk on, although Colson still does, he just likes to act tough.”
“No,” your dad said, shaking his head. “I don’t care about it being him. I mean, he still bothers the fuck out of me, but that’s just because he married my baby girl. I hate Hailie’s boyfriend just as much.” You laughed and shook your head. “You’re happy, (Y/N), and that’s all that matters. I wish I had known how severely unhappy you were all those years, and how my fame affected you.”
“There wasn't anything you could do, dad,” you assured him. “I’m a tough girl, you know that. I was able to handle it on my own, and I always will be able to handle it on my own. In a way, I’m glad most the guys I knew were assholes, staying away from them led me to the right guy after all.”
“Also an asshole.”
“Dad,” you playfully scolded.
Your dad chuckled and pulled you close to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head against his shoulder.
“I’m so proud of you, (Y/N),” he said. “You’ve grown up into the most amazing young woman I always knew you’d be.”
You smiled through the tears that were starting to form again. Dammit! I just touched up my makeup, I knew that was going to be a mistake.
“I love you, dad,” you said, your voice soft.
“I love you, too, (Y/N).”
You were almost reluctant to pull away when the song ended, but you knew you couldn’t stay attached to your dad forever. Both literally and metaphorically, today was a day about letting go, you letting go of him and vice versa.
Colson stepped up as your dad stepped away, the bright smile on his face. He offered you his hand and asked, “May I have this dance, Mrs. Baker?”
You smiled back and responded, “Of course, Mr. Baker.”
The song you had both chosen for your first dance song began to play. Everyone was stood around, taking pictures and smiling at the two of you as you danced, but in that moment it was as if none of them existed. It was just you and Colson dancing together.
“Did you ever think we’d get here?” Colson asked as you rested your head against his chest. Even in your heels, you were nowhere close to reaching his height.
“At which point?” you asked. “When you sat down with me at the diner, or when we started dating?”
“Either,” he responded.
“To the first one, no. I actually didn’t even think we’d ever talk again, even after getting friendly and you left me your number. Part of me was sure you’d forget all about me.”
“How can I forget the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met?”
You cuddled closer to him. He always knew the right things to say. “To the second one, I don’t really knew. At the time that we started dating, I really didn’t know what to expect. Part of me thought it might just be a brief thing, that maybe the distance or the secrecy of it all would result in us breaking up. Then I thought it would last some time but I wasn’t sure exactly how long. I don’t know, I never thought about getting married ever, it just didn’t seem like an option to me.” You lifted your head to look at him. “What about you?”
“When we first met, I didn’t think we’d end up here exactly, but I did hope we’d be friends for a long time. I really liked you, I thought you were cute and funny and so headstrong. I just wanted to hang out with you, if nothing else. When we started dating, I hoped we’d get to this point. I’m not sure if I expected it to happen, but I always hoped it did.”
“Well, you got your wish.”
You leaned up to kiss him. He smiled into the kiss and paused from dancing long enough to cup your face. Even through your closed eyes, you could see the flash from the camera of the photographer you had hired. It was just an old friend of Colson’s who offered to take pictures at the wedding, but you both insisted on paying him for his time, even if he would’ve been invited to go anyways.
“You’ll have to get used to that,” Colson said. “Although, I guess you already are.”
“Not as much as you’d think. My sisters and I always managed to keep on the DL for most our lives,” you shrugged. “But I don’t mind all that much. As long as I get to show off my amazing husband one way or another, I’ll gladly welcome any pictures.”
Colson smiled. “Say that again.”
“Which part?”
“The part about me being your husband.”
You giggled and repeated, “Colson Baker, you’re the best husband a girl could ever ask for.”
“And you, (Y/N) Baker, are the best thing that ever happened to me.”
You both kissed once again as the music ended. You stood for some time, just lost in one another, before a more upbeat song started to play and more people joined the dancefloor.
You partied until midnight hit, and when it did you changed from your wedding dress into something more comfortable to make your way to the car that would be taking you to the airport. Colson had booked a special honeymoon for the two of you, but didn’t tell you where it was, only that you’d both be gone for some time. You sat next to him in the car and you both smiled at each other. Colson took hold of your hand and gave it a small squeeze.
The car began to drive as your friends and family waved goodbye to the two of you. Next stop, your happily ever after, with Colson as your loving husband.
The end!
Tags: @littlewhiterose @creatureofthen1ght-v3 @arugula-pigeon @keithseabrook27 @xxkellsvixen19xx @hnbtx @c-dizzle-swizzlex @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @whateverthefucklove @kellysimagines @idkbrooklyn @hannahmarie2016 @ratedrkohardychick91 @rosesinmars @painkillerash @kawennote09 @psychosozial @tapedeck-hearts @trash-bag-bitch @bloodorangemoon @jointhehunt67 @nepturn @theroyalbrownbarbie @jesylovesmusic @ripped-up-jeans-and-glitter @chokemebymyheartstrings @kolsprincess04 @polychr0matic @sataninsatin @harringtonstudios @oopsiedoopsie23 @anon-1121 @itjustkindofhappenedreally @iamlivthehuman​ @rumoured-whispers​ @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​ @ghostlyawesome1 @bakerkells​ @hxbbit​ @laceupkells​ @nowhereiswhereibelong​ @moonificantlou @crystalbaby12​ @omgitstreeloo​ @jordangdelacruz​ @limerenze​ @estxxbritt​ @moonixto @colsondaddybakerxx @shadyraiam​ @gemini5991​ @nevercameaready @whyisgmora​ @thelooneytoon​ @bolivianchickennugget​ @write-from-the-heart​ 
Thank you all for your support throughout this series. You really don’t know what it means to me that so many of you were so dedicated to this story and you loved it so much. Honestly, when I started writing it I didn’t think it’d get any traction at all. I’m just as sad as you guys are that it came to an end, but I knew this was the way the story was going to go even when I started writing it.
However, don’t be too sad. Keep your eyes out in the coming weeks for another MGK series ;)
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baelpenrose · 3 years
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Under Avandra's Eyes V: Before the Storm
@canyouhearthelight did a kick-ass job beta-reading this like always and I'm so, so hyped to be getting into the battle proper with this one.
Plus, fun to watch Liza and Thomas work together, no?
Liza
Step by step. That was how Liza saw this. She was about to have her first major battle with the Pikar - the mad barbarians she’d fought in person for the first time two days ago, now coming to crush, overrun, and destroy in Veridal. She didn’t want to think about it - she had handy a flask of poison if it looked like they were going to be overrun, and had no intention of letting herself be subjected to the mercies of those monsters.
The courtesan had also taken some precautions with her gear - the rapier she carried was deadly enough, but having seen the stunning force the enemy were able to deliver, she’d procured a dervish spear as well - she’d had some training with the staff, and with spears before. She was going to practice with it as time went on, but for now…
“Gentlemen.” She approached a group of militiamen, carrying scythes, sickles, pitchforks, and hoes. They were sharpening their makeshift gear, and muttering darkly about the “northern savages.” She walked over, striding in the way she’d learned as a sixteen year old, desperately seeking a job to feed herself, something already prone to drawing the eyes of those interested in women, and focused herself, thinking about her understanding of her beauty, her sense of performance, her desire to be seen, her desire to conceal her inner self, and suddenly, she heard the familiar chiming sound in her ears that meant her Khym was in motion. The men’s muttering stopped and they stared at her.
“I’m with a group of mercenaries who’ve been asked to help defend the people of Faldrea. You’re the volunteers, right? The ones supposed to be helping the retreat?”
“Aye. And you are?”
“The one telling you, your families are depending on you. Don’t do anything heroic, or reckless. Your job is to make sure as many people as possible manage to escape. Killing Pikar is the job of the knights, so let the taxes you’ve given the king and gentry all these years pay off. Kill any scattered Pikar who get too close to the refugee columns, but if you can flee instead of fighting, do so. They won’t fall without inflicting casualties.” She sighed. “So don’t do anything stupid.” Putting all the effort she could into her Khym, she let her eyelids hang heavy and her voice come out in the honeyed tones that she’d been trained in for years as a courtesan. “I’m sure your wives and lovers will be very grateful to keep you around.” They nodded and stood to as they finished up the work, and began forming up as the wagons started getting moving.
Men were so easy to work with. Bat your eyelashes, look pretty, convince them that people like you direly needed them - though, the dancer supposed, in the more conservative Faldrea, women actually probably did need their men, in an economic sense rather than just an emotional one. She preferred the style of the Adrasnian Empire - men and women kept each other company in the bedroom out of a sense of mutual enjoyment and companionship, at least in the metropoles of the empire.
Or, in the case of the sort of noblemen she’d met as a courtesan in the court of the Burgrave of Eastmark, mutual benefit.
That was neither here nor there, she reminded herself. It was time to be a little more serious. She glanced around at a group of levy pikers who had clearly spent most of the day drilling with spears twice as tall as they were. They could use a bit of a morale boost, and she saw Thomas approach in the shadows of the firelight, as night began to fall around Veridal. She could dance for him. Especially since the Witch Hunters always employed at least one person with the ability to sense magic, they’d be drawn to her to see what was going on - while Thomas took their specialty weaponry.
The pikemen looked impressed as Liza leaned her dervish spear against a wall and started singing, initially, throwing off her cloak, baring her shoulders in the cold wind. She threw back her head and held the note, slowly moving in time to the beat she gave herself, then let the men begin clapping in time for her dance. She moved to the sound, forcing as much of her attention as she could into her Khym, batting her eyes as she moved. She ignored the soldiers’ stares, focusing only on Thomas, the man she actually wanted to do this kind of thing for. The gaping soldiers started cheering as a few of the Hunters started coming closer, she could hear their little hymns as they approached and rapid bootsteps, and she almost dropped the Khym but kept pushing.
The Witch Hunters, in their distinctive iron-and-silver chainmail and grey-and-gold lacquered leathers walking over to see what the magic was being used for. Liza gave them an insolent smile and hauled on their attention with her power, continuing to writhe to the music, smiling evilly. A few of the pikers cheered her on as she worked.
When the Witch Hunters attempted to move in, a loud mob of the levy pikers moved between the smirking courtesan and the religious zealots, shouting in anger at the interruption.
“The Church doesn’t have authority here! Gonna arrest some pretty girl while there’s sorcerers out there? Fuck yer mothers!”
“That’s a Khymer. You can’t feel her working on your will…” The Witch Hunters were trying to defend themselves, but the armed peasantry began spitting at their boots.
“Pile ‘o horseshit, is what that is. My little sister’s a Khymer, half the village we grew up in got her to Sleep squalling babes…”
“Oi, so’s the Duke’s bailiff of coin, you got a problem with that?”
“Course they don’t, these curs’re all interested in ruining a good time, not bein’ useful.”
The mob began pressing closer to the Witch Hunters, and Liza was tempted to just let the angry hedge of men, many of who were now actually grabbing their lances, whose hooked cross braces glittered wickedly in the torchlight, just go to work on the miserable pricks who felt the need to call her a sorcerous whore wherever she plied her craft, but the bastards were trained to fight daemonic forces, and if Vixen wasn’t just insane, they were going to need that.
Plus, she’d already gotten their attention, too. And in a way that would actually cost them. Thomas was already doing the signal whistle to indicate he’d gotten the special weaponry they wanted…
“Gentlemen, come on. The Hunters aren’t here to arrest me. They just wanted to make sure I’m not working anything more serious on you than a little Allure. Thought you boys could use a dance after a day of drill, getting ready to fight those monsters out there. And you’re all quite gentlemanly,” she said, with a falsely-shy little smile, “Defending me from them. I’m sure you’ll make an excellent showing of yourselves when the Pikar arrive. And I’m sure the Witch Hunters will show us their skill against whatever supernatural horror the Pikar are bringing with them.” She gave the Witch Hunter’s captain a little smile as the man paled, nodded, and walked away.
The levvies around her laughed. “Alright, miss. You need an escort back to whoever you’re with at the moment, or you good to go on your own?”
She appeared to give it some thought, then shook her head. “I’m alright. Long practice dodging choir boys. Most of them just want to look righteous, but I used to be a courtesan - they’re as corrupt as anyone. I’ll see myself home.”
Not that home was far, she thought, a wry smile on her lips as she rounded the corner. Thomas was waiting a few blocks away in the agreed-upon meeting place. Around him were the weapons he’d stolen. A few swords - one bastard, two duelist blades - a big axe, sheaves of arrows, and a few odds and ends that she could already tell had nothing to do with the mission and everything to do with Thomas just indulging himself robbing the self-righteous twits. “Right. Darling, that was a great dance. Help me shift these things a bit. Want them in position for when the others get here.”
Right. Iris, Baldor, and Marcus had been in the field, scouting all day. It wouldn’t be long before they were back, unless something had gone drastically wrong…
Liza shuddered at the thought. Losing Baldor would be to lose the rock they all relied on, and she absolutely adored Iris and her code...and anything that could actually beat Marcus in a straight fight was something she didn’t want to encounter. To say nothing of what Marcus or Iris would become if the other was killed.
Thomas seemed more relaxed about the affair - something the courtesan envied. She’d been a court agent for most of her life, and even if Thomas had only seen one major clash between human nations, that had been more battles than she’d seen. Right as she thought she couldn’t hold the silence anymore, the sally port opened, with Baldor pushing his way in, Iris and Marcus close behind.
“The villagers did the smart thing and ran. Most of them. Bad news is, the we don’t have as long to prepare as we thought. The Pikar aren’t weeks away. We’ve got three hours. Maybe.” There was blood in Marcus’s tawny hair, but from the lack of pain evident on his face, it wasn’t his. Iris’s quivers were looking lighter than usual, and the archer was shuddering.
“Vixen wasn’t wrong, either. There are things with them. Things that definitely aren’t human. Not like the Pikar - we saw things moving out there that never were human. Didn’t get a good look.” Baldor was slamming the sally port shut and barring it. “Run, both of you! Tell them. The Pikar are all but here!” <<Prev Next>>
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Carnival of Hearts (Part 3/6) ~ Bucky x Reader College!AU
A/N: Happy Friday my lovelies! Part 3 is here. :) 
This is my entry for @buckysknifecollection​​ ‘s 3k Follower Challenge. Congrats on the milestone lovely! Go check out the blog. Personal fave is Hush (a must read if you’re into soft!Biker!Bucky)
Prompt: Our friends set us up on this carnival date but we’re both pining after someone else and this a bit awkward
Summary: When you’re set up on a carnival date with Bucky Barnes NOTHING turns out the way you expected.
Rating: T
Warnings: Language
Word count: 2090
Story Masterlist | Main Masterlist
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When you came back from the restroom, Bucky was sitting at the picnic table scribbling in a notebook.
“So you’re a writer?”
Bucky jumped and snapped the leather bound journal shut.
“I… what? This was just a grocery list.”
You frowned at the obvious lie, but decided not to call him on it opting for a different tactic.
“Oh. Sorry. Nat had mentioned you were doing a minor in creative writing, so I kind of just assumed. Sorry.”
You sat down beside him.
“No apology necessary. And I am doing a minor in creative writing. And that wasn’t my grocery list.”
“I figured.”
You smiled encouragingly.  
“I guess I just don’t consider myself a writer. I mean I want to be… Someday. That’s the dream.”
“Do you write now?”  
“Yeah, but it’s just a hobby.” He shrugged. “I’ve never been published.”  
“You don’t have to published to be a writer. You just have to write.”
“Well when you put it like that…”
“I’m sure that you’re a great. You see the world in a different way. What do you write about?”
He exhaled a laugh, bobbing his head slightly.
“Love mostly. Wanda calls me a hopeless romantic. She’s right of course.”
You nudged his shoulder with your own.
“Well, you’re in good company. Love’s a big topic though.”
“I’ll never run out of material that’s for sure. Recently I’ve been favoring quiet love. Love that comes out of nowhere but that you can find everywhere. Love that surrounds you until you couldn’t be more sure of it.”  
“Wow,” you breathed out. “If that’s just you talking I can’t imagine what your writing must be like.”
Bucky blushed at the praise.
“Thanks, doll.”
“Have you ever shared your writing?”
He hesitated before nodding.
“I have a blog. Anonymous, because I’m so not ready to put my name on anything.”
“That’s fine. You don’t have to. But it’s great that you’re putting it out there. If you ever want to share it - not anonymously - let me know.”
You were happy to leave it at that, but Bucky surprised you when he pulled out his phone. You quickly grabbed his hand to stop him.
“You don’t have to show me.”
“I know,” he smiled. “I want to. I’m not sure why. But I want to.”
“I’m honored.”
He scrolled through his phone for a few moments before handing it over.
“Read this one.”
You nodded, and cradled the phone in your hands as you began reading.
 Longing from right beside you.
We embrace, my limbs slow, awkward as if rusted.
Your hand in mine, my cheeks red, hotter than a furnace.
Your smile brighter than the sun at daybreak, it warms me.
It disarms me.
I am seventeen again.
Hiding. Questioning. Unsure.
My desire is benign. It is pure.
Nine o’clock every morning - a new quiet beginning.
Seven o’clock every evening - the sweetest homecoming.  
One press of your lips on mine hits me like a freight car.
I am lost.
I am yours.
 “Wow, Bucky, this is…”
“Terrible. Dry.”
“No. It’s beautiful. And I can feel the emotion. Oh my. You are so talented. Thank you for sharing this with me.”  
“Thanks for not judging me.”
“Why would I judge you?”
“Some people think writing is dumb.”
“I think those people are dumb.”
“I dream of being a published author someday. But every time I start making plans, I’m reminded that writing isn’t a guaranteed career.”
“There are no guarantees in life. And if you ask me, you should take some of your own advice.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You told me that you think Sam should be a chef because it’s what makes him special.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, your writing is what makes you special. And you should give it a fair shot. I think the world needs the words of Bucky Barnes.”
“Thank you for that.”
“Any time. I like to aggressively hype up my friends, so you should probably get used to it.”
Bucky’s laugh was deep and booming.
“You’re the best.”
“Yes. Yes I am.”
Bucky let you read a few more pieces, each more beautiful than the last. He had the heart of a man in love.    
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“So since you know mine, what’s your dream profession?” he asked as you walked back towards the roller coasters after completing your first circuit.
“Photographer,” you replied without skipping a beat.  
“Damn, I had my money on news anchor.”
“Well, I am a journalism major. It seemed like a safer bet.”
Bucky arched an eyebrow at you.
“You don’t have to say it.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
You laughed and rolled your eyes.
“When did you fall in love with photography?”
You had to think for a moment.
“When I was six or seven, my dad bought me a toy camera and I immediately ran around the house taking a million pictures. And when we got the prints I glued them onto construction paper and taped them up around my living room like it was a gallery that I forced my parents to tour. They were very supportive considering it was mostly blurry pictures of a mop.”
“But I’m sure your passion showed through.”
You smiled appreciatively.  
“Still. But I fell in love with it when I realized that two people can look at the same photo and see a totally different story. And both of them could have a different understanding than the photographer.”
“It definitely illustrates the effect of the consumer’s perspective. That was always my favorite part of literary discussions.”  
“Yes. Totally.”
“Okay, so if journalism isn’t the goal, what is?”
“Freelance photographer I guess. I actually had this idea to make a blog and do weekly photo story prompts, so people could submit their stories based on the pictures and then people could come read and enjoy them. And if it got big enough I could start hosting writing challenges and contests. Steve keeps hounding me to set it up. He says it would give people a chance to fall in love with my photos in a different way.”
“That’s a great idea. I think you should do it.”
“Nah, I doubt anyone would want to do something like that.”
“Are you kidding? It sounds amazing. You would just need to get the word out in the writing community. I would definitely participate.”
“Really?” you asked, excited by the prospect.
Bucky smiled and nodded.
“I might even put my name on it for you.”
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After the roller coaster, you made your way to the pirate themed pendulum ride, trying to position yourselves so you’d have your pick of seats by letting a few people go ahead of you.
“Do you have a favorite photograph you’ve taken?” Bucky asked, as you let another family pass you.
You bit your lip.
“That’s a yes. Will you show it to me some time?”
“I can show it to you now if you really want to see it.”
“I would love to.”
You could sense that his interest was genuine so you slipped your phone out of your pocket and opened Instagram.
“This one is my favorite,” you stated, clutching the screen against your chest.
“You don’t have to show me, you know.”
“I know.”
You smiled and with a deep breath turned the phone to show him.
“Umm that’s just the background.”
You looked at it and sure enough you’d accidentally exited the app.
“Damn it. Okay one second. Here we go.”
You showed him the phone with much less fanfare, but his reaction was immediate.
“Wow.”  
You’d taken the photo after dinner one night. Steve was leaning against the wall on the balcony sketching by the light of a full moon and the mini lanterns you’d wrapped around the railing. You had to capture the moment. Steve heard you fumbling with your camera and looked up just in time, a soft smile gracing his features.
“Perfect,” you murmured as you looked at the shot.
“Yeah, you are.”
“Steve’s the one who encouraged me to put some of my photos on Instagram. But I told him I’d only do it, if that was the first one. It’s still my most popular post. Nat says it’s cuz he’s pretty.”
“He is for sure,” Bucky chuckled. “But he’s also soulful. I want to know what makes a man that happy.”
He had his suspicions.
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“I think this should be my next post,” you cooed as you showed Bucky the picture of him cuddling the plush wolf you had won him at the ring toss.  
“Delete that.”
“Literally never.”
He pouted. “Come on, please.”
You shook your head.
“Nope. This is my new favorite photo. You’re adorable and I’m never deleting it.”
Bucky had only known you a few hours, but he could tell when he should cut his losses.
“Fine. But if you’re keeping that one. We should at least have a cute one of the both of us.”
“That’s a fabulous idea.”
Bucky moved so he was straddling the bench of the picnic table, and you shuffled so that you were in between his legs. You put your phone in selfie mode and took one photo before a woman approached you.
“Would you like me to take a photo of the two of you?”
“Sure, that would be great!”
You handed her your phone as you and Bucky re-situated yourself so you were sitting side by side. Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulder and the stuffed animal sat on your laps.
She took several photos and you were giggling when Bucky had his wolf kiss you on the cheek.  
“Here you go. I took a bunch.”
“Thank you so much.”
“It’s so nice to see a young couple so in love.”
She walked away before you or Bucky could respond. You both shared an unsure expression as an awkward silence fell between you.  
“Do you want to plan out what to do until lunch?” he asked, not making eye contact.
“Yeah, sure. That sounds like a good idea,” you agreed.
That woman’s comment was repeating on a loop as you thumbed through the pictures she took. You did make a cute couple, but despite having a great time with him so far, you weren’t feeling a spark. What if Bucky was though? Had you been leading him on?
“Y/n, are you okay?”
“What? Sorry, Bucky.”
Bucky chuckled and you saw understanding in his expression which made the knot in your stomach loosen.
“Did it freak you out too?”
You laughed half-heartedly. “That obvious huh?”
“Only a little.”
“Don’t get me wrong. Today has been awesome. And you’re fantastic.”
“Thank you.” He bobbed his head in gratitude. “So are you.”
“Thanks. But,” you drew out the word. “I just don’t feel that spark.”
Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you braced for his reaction.  
“Oh thank god.”
You turned to him with wide eyes.
“I don’t either.”
“You don’t?”  
Bucky shook his head. “You’re amazing. And I really want to be best friends with you. But…”
“That’s all,” you finished for him.
He nodded. You blew out a relieved breath.
“Full disclosure. I think Wanda set this up because she was tired of me pining over someone.”
“You mean Sam?” you asked with a knowing smile.
He was unsurprised you’d figured it out.
“I don’t hide it well, do I?”
“I had my suspicions, but you could probably chalk it up to be being best friends and roommates. But it’s all over your writing.”
“That’s fair.”
“And in the interest of honesty. Nat 100% set me up so I would get over my own dumb crush.”
“On Steve,” he stated matter-of-factly.  
You swatted at his arm when you saw his smirk.
“Don’t be smug.”
“I’m not. I’m amused. Your art gives you away too. The way you see Steve comes through in your photos. They’re beautiful, breathtaking even, but definitely an insight into your heart.”
“Not the worst critique of my work I’ve received,” you joked, making you both laugh.
“This is pretty awkward huh. We’re on this date - which is honestly one of the best I’ve been on - and we’re both pining after other people.”
“Well, at least we’re not pining after the same person. That would be way more awkward. And it’s one of the best dates I’ve been on too.”
“I know that this isn’t what they were hoping for, but I’m really glad that Natasha and Wanda set us up.”
“So am I.”
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A/N: EEEEE okay, so I hope that you enjoyed this. I know it may not be what you expected (or you might totally have expected it) just sit tight. It’s gonna be fluffy I promise. 
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lideria · 4 years
Text
Get to Know. | YangYang
Request: hiiiii ! i was wondering if it was possible to ask for a fluffy yangyang shows y/n around his hometown? sorry if that isn’t specific enough :( you have full creators freedom thank u so much ❤️
Author’s Note: So this is what it is, I tried my best, I swear I did. This was a concept I had never written before because usually I don’t.. write very descriptive things.. which is where things like this fall in- but I took on the challenge heheh On another note, this piece was cut in half as I haven’t been all too emotionally stable these past 3 days, so my apologies if this isn’t as good as what you hoped for. (And I know I have this excuse often, not being emotionally stable, but my condition really challenges me every single day and writing is the only thing that helps me forget about it a little, so please bear with me.)
Warnings: I THINK NONE? I guess if you’re German this might be like.. a bit weird. Mostly descriptive. There might be not-too-accurate representations, definitely contact me if you think something needs to be changed. Plus, English is my second language so there might be errors.
Word Count: 2.418 short-ish but long-ish
Genre: Fluff and literally nothing else
Hope you all enjoy, and I hope you all have a great time 💚 Stay safe, healthy, and happy xx
“You know what people say you should do if you wanna get to know your partner better?” YangYang asks you one night as you lounge on the bed together, looking at your phones, hardly speaking— waiting for the sleepy mood to come and hit you both so you could go to sleep. His voice sounds nowhere near tired, unlike you, whose eyes are barely open. “Mm I don’t know.” You mumble, even though you had not heard what the answer was to the question.
“Getting stuck in traffic or traveling together.” Answering the question for you, he turns his face towards yours to be met with your profile. Maybe only a quarter of your profile since your head was covered with the hood of your hoodie. “Neither of us has a car,” He adds brightly.
The words start to make sense only after a questionable silence. When you do, a feeling of surprise washes over you as you turn to face him as well. “What exactly do you mean?”
“Oh I don’t know,” The words leave him in a rush with a chuckle as if he is trying to laugh it off. But he is not, because he keeps speaking. “But I definitely don’t mean that we should rent a car when we could fly if you know what I mean.”
You roll your eyes and shake your head, getting under the blanket and putting your phone aside. “Just go to sleep.”
To your horror, YangYang had been serious about his quick little fact check.
In two weeks’ time, he had barged into your apartment holding two plane tickets with a smile so wide on his face. Not only that, but he had told you to clear out your schedule for the upcoming break— because he would be taking you around anywhere and everywhere he had on his mind (and truthfully, anywhere and everywhere your budgets would allow for you to visit).
The concept came with its multiple ups and downs. Ups, you would be visiting four countries in four weeks without that much strain on your wallets and would have the chance to see places you have always wanted to; downs, most of the flights being layovers of all sorts so the prices would not have a great impact to your finances. And then there was a grey area, which held the fact that two of these countries were ones YangYang had lived in before.
There was nothing wrong with visiting places he had lived in before. This would give you an incredible chance of getting closer to him— perhaps on a level you would not quite be able to reach without doing exactly what you were about to do. It would provide a crystal clear window into his life before you, something more clear than his words probably ever could be. However, the idea still made you feel nervous to some extent. Most likely because of its intimate background, you felt like the magic of it could crumble with one wrong move.
But you do not give into that feeling. Having fun is the least you could do. Not that you have much other choice, anyway. Because YangYang, with lack of a better word, is an actual toddler about this whole ordeal.
The morning of your first flight that leaves to Taiwan, he meets you at the subway station you had agreed on with an excited smile on his face. One that does not falter even though the rain is about to soak him, and even when you pull him under your umbrella as you mutter if he is asking to get sick from the first second.
You share your earphones on the long ride to the airport. Checking in comes and goes in a blink of your eyes, but you barely make your way to the gates in time after spending way too much time in the food court and the duty free shops.
The plane is gigantic and crowded, which makes sense considering YangYang had said he could hardly find seats beside one another while purchasing the tickets. You get the aisle seat and he gets the middle— which would have been perfectly fine if the middle aged man sitting in the window seat did not keep excusing himself to the lavatory every other minute. Thankfully the flight is a relatively short one and not a red-eye because if it had been you are certain both of you would have lost your minds while cuddled up to each other over the armrest.
Taiwan is fun. YangYang takes you around everywhere he could remember spending time in, which does not end up being that many since he had only been a child while he lived here. He takes you to the ‘cliché’ tourist attractions (as he had quoted) around the island such as the temples and museums and the remnants of the Dutch colonization, and to the places that his mother suggests him take you that are more on the natural side, like geysers. You get to see the beautiful beaches and the parks and the people, more often than not walking around with their pets, the beautiful campuses and the nature, people riding around in their bikes and the crowds commuting on foot. The two of you take photographs, some only of sceneries, some you take of him and he takes of you, and some he kindly asks strangers of any age to take of you as a couple.
You do not dare to tell him, but his tourist-guide-like antics of teaching you about the history and trying to figure out exactly where you will go at what time is extremely cute to you because you love it. You love that he gets so serious about where he is from and wants to share every bit of it with you.
As per your traveling habits you pick up several souvenirs and get some of your favorite photographs printed, which end up being from the Dragon and Tiger Pagodas you had taken on a foggy day— something YangYang says the both of you could play with the colors and lighting of before printing. The two of you like to edit pictures, especially together, after realizing (early on in your relationship) that neither of you are that good in photography but are interested in it, at which point you took on a challenge to do better with each other’s support.
YangYang makes you eat the local food, which is one of your favorite parts about the whole time you spend there, and he does not hesitate to make you try things that you probably would not have tried if you were traveling alone. You end up falling in love with the food and the various teas this island has to offer, only maybe not the Chodofu.
A week in Taiwan goes by really fast that by the time you have to leave, you do not realize that you had ever even been there. It all feels like a dream and a part of you feels emotional; the two of you had been so extremely happy in Taiwan that staying there for longer really would not have bothered you, if it was not for your schedules.
“We have to come back,” You tell YangYang as you lean your head on his shoulder at the gate, waiting for your overnight flight’s boarding to start. He chuckles airily at your sleep deprived voice, making your head bounce a little. “You like it here?”
“I love it here.” The answer makes his smile widen. “Great weather and great people. And great surroundings.”
“Eh, I don’t know about great weather. I’d prefer it to be dry but that’s not something we could have in these months.” Shaking your head on his shoulder, you ignore what he says. “You’re just being ungrateful,” You say matter-of-factly, but he knows you are joking. “What more can you ask for when you have this many great things? You had me too.”
He plants a kiss in your hair after a moment’s pause, and mumbles. “You’re right.”
YangYang and you had tried to organize your trip in a way it would make sense, really. The two of you had looked at flight routes to determine where the other two countries you would visit could be, but the flight routes were mostly over Russia— so unless you wanted a tour of southern Russia you would have to hold off. And although the idea of Central Asia and Russia also interested you, the flight tickets would be expensive, when they would be much cheaper from Seoul. So in the end, the route became a zigzag of countries of your shared interests before flying over to Düsseldorf, the last destination of your trip.
The two countries in the midst of your trip had been a daze, most probably they were new experiences for both of you rather than only one of you. Most days you found yourselves to be extremely exhausted from getting lost countless times and in turn walking around so much, and from the language barrier that sometimes troubled you, and just getting to know whole new cultures. Not only getting to know them, but also adapting to them in the short period that you are there.
Sometimes there were instances where one of you were feeling more spent than the other, and in those instances you hyped each other up— by persuasion of food, music, affection, or other things— and in a few instances downright jumping on whoever’s lying on the bed and bear-hugging them until the subject had no choice but to get up.
Yet, two weeks pass by quickly with the density of your packed schedule and before you know it, you land in Düsseldorf airport.
And something in YangYang changes immediately.
As you pass through immigration and buy tickets to go on public transportation he looks more relaxed and in his element, like how he had been in Taiwan, yet somehow different. He actually knew the location of your Airbnb for starters, which gives you an immediate grounding and reminds you that this is the place of the better part of his rememberable childhood and adolescence.
When he takes the keys and speaks German to the house owner like it was the most normal thing he could ever do, it awes you, because yes you had known about his life in Germany but you did not see him speak German all that much. So it is wonderful to you that he can speak so many languages fluently (with a few mix-ups in between).
His behavior changes the feel of the trip as well. The way he is so laid back makes the days in Düsseldorf feel, well, daily. As if you had been living there with him. Because YangYang knows exactly where to take you this time, not counting the tourist attractions or other wonders.
In that city he knows where he should take you for a fun session of thrift shopping, making sure to take you to his favorite places, and his favorite restaurants. He actually runs into people, which is mind blowing. You encourage him to meet up with his friends and forget about just taking you to places at some point, which makes him really happy that you would even think of that, and he does what you say.
YangYang introduces you to his friends, most of whom can speak English since he had gone to an international school before, and the feeling of inclusivity warms your heart. By getting to know his friends here you feel even closer to him after seeing his home country and now, for the lack of a better word, his hometown. You get to see the way he laughs when he is here, you get to see his emotional changes, and how his thought process changes, and how his behavior changes. Although everything changes he is still YangYang— still him who makes witty jokes, who likes laughing all around, who likes jumping his leg up and down to the rhythm of the songs, who is a people pleaser and a mood maker.
And it makes you fall for him even more, if it is even possible. Perhaps what he had said before the trip started, getting to know your partner better because of traveling, was true. And in all honesty you wanted to travel more with him; run through the crowded airports in search of wherever your gate is, buy even more small jars of Nutella from duty free shops so you could taste test them to see the variations in the flavor and decide which country’s is the ultimate winner, sleep on the uncomfortable floor with your heads on your backpacks— anything. As long as the two of you get to be this happy together.
One sunny day in Düsseldorf around a couple days before your departure, after gathering even more souvenirs for your collection and he takes you to his favorite place that served fries (which, in Düsseldorf, there were a lot of those), he stops abruptly on the street after hearing the sound of the music.
He urges you to hurry up with his hand as his eyes widen and he skips in his place a little, and you do, walking to the source of the music and stopping when he stops right behind a crowd. You both can still see the middle, where a group of people maybe your age or maybe a couple years younger, are dancing.
“Why did we stop by here?” You ask. You cannot recognize the song and you are almost sure it is not in any of YangYang’s playlists, so you are genuinely curious.
YangYang laughs with what must be longing. “This is where I used to dance,” He does not look at you, eyes fixed on the group that kept dancing on with some handwritten signs and big speakers behind them, eyeing the white square that surrounded them. The square for street performers. Dancers, singers, anybody— but there was an unwritten pact for the days of the week on what kind of performer would be taking it and who, through endless group chat conversations of local artists.
He takes your hand into his and laces your fingers together without prying his eyes away, with you looking at his ever so bright face, one that you got to see for the first time. “Where everything started for me.”
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girls-scenarios · 4 years
Text
Dreamcatcher as Best Friends
Prompt: kiwi, my friend, can i request dreamcatcher as best friends with reader headcanons? i need more platonic centric content in fandom
A/N: I live for platonic content too. I don’t necessarily want to date any idols, but I do sometimes imagine being friends with them! I hope you guys enjoy! - Admin Kiwi
JiU:
I feel like she’d be a total mom friend
Years of being a leader would make taking care of her friends a second nature for her
She would do things like quietly clean up after a meal
Or casually pull you out of the way of a biker
She doesn’t even notice that she does it and gets kind of embarrassed when you point it out
“It’s not annoying, right?” “No, it’s actually pretty helpful.”
Super sweet and caring
Would move the world for her friends
Always the one to suggest going out, only to get tired almost immediately
Goes to sleep early but keeps her phone on just in case you need her
Always gives the most thoughtful presents
But also likes to tease a little bit
“Did you really think that pickup line would work?”
The best wing-woman you could ask for
People are just drawn to her
Being friends with her would mean being friends with a lot of people
But as her best friend, she would always have time for you
She would even cancel other plans if you needed her to
SuA:
She’s DEFINITELY the best friend who ends up getting the both of you into trouble
Kind of crazy
But that makes her fun, right?
“Hey, want to climb up onto the roof?”
Her ideas are the source of a couple of your injuries
A total mess, seriously
I hope you’re ready to cosplay and go to comic con with her
Because she will ask you to do that
Calls you at three in the morning crying over a pet video she saw
Probably doesn’t sleep
She has absolutely no filter and will tell you as it is
But you know she means nothing mean by it
You’re 99% of her impulse control
She’s always dragging you out to do something because she gets bored
People probably mistake the two of you as a couple because she’s very clingy and likes to hold onto your arm or hold your hand
Platonic cuddling is a thing and she loves it
She has a steady stream of dates, but always has time for you
Despite her endless energy and jokes, she truly does care a lot for you
She would throw down for you at any time, anywhere
Siyeon:
Tough on the outside, laid back on the inside
You laugh at everyone who says they’re afraid of her, because you know that she would feel bad if she hurt a fly
As her best friend, you even get to see her cute side
Likes to lean against you or hug you when she laughs
Also very touchy, likes to hold onto you when she gets excited
Doesn’t care what other people think about her
Encourages you to be the same and just be you
Super supportive towards her friends
Will hype you up and help you at any given moment
If you send her a photo of yourself, she WILL reply with about a hundred capitalized messages and heart emojis and a video of her screaming
Please don’t ask her to go out all she wants to do is lay on the couch
At most she will go get tea or coffee or go see a movie
Everything else requires too much moving and she’s not down for that
The two of you probably share a Netflix account
You get to see all the weird stuff she watches on her downtime
“Did you just watch a documentary on sex?” “I did. Want to hear about it?” “Not really, no.”
The two of you will often find yourselves at her place with takeout, sitting on her couch and chatting while some comedy series plays in the background
She definitely has some weird, embarrassing nickname for you
A weirdo, but she’s YOUR weirdo and you wouldn’t change a thing
Except, maybe, for the nickname
Handong:
When people first meet her, she seems sweet, proper, and quiet
As her best friend, you know the truth
Sure, she’s quiet at first, but once she opens up, she’s funny and sarcastic and cute and so many more things
She’ll say snarky things with such a classy smile that it cracks you up
You kind of never know what she’ll do but it’s more fun that way
She’d probably take you shopping a lot
Or just out to try new foods and places
She wouldn’t like too much excitement, but wouldn’t like to just stay inside either
You’re kind of her personal photographer whenever the two of you go out
But it’s kind of fun to see what new poses she’ll come up with next
She’d be the type to call you when she was having a rough day, either to rant and let off a little steam or to ask for advice or encouragement
Really values your advice, since you know her the best
She’s sweet, too, though
Gives you her gloves or scarf if you’re cold without hesitation
And she makes sure that every single one of your birthdays are special
She likes hugs and would often just randomly hug you or put her chin on your shoulder
Has your name in her phone under some cute nickname but blushes when you point it out
She doesn’t say that she cares about you much, but she shows it in her own little ways
Yoohyeon:
It’s hard not to be friends with her, really
Her personality makes it impossible not to like her
She’s very caring and heartfelt towards her friends
And always has a smile and open arms if you need them
“You’re my best friend and I love and cherish you.”
Has a ton of energy and is always down to hang out
Would be the type to take you on a long road trip
Or just on vacations in general
Likes exploring with you
She’s a little bit extra sometimes
Occasionally embarrasses you in public because she has no shame
She’s just loud in general too
Her laugh is contagious
Gets emotional really easily
Will cry if you give her a sentimental gift
(Or really, any gift at all)
Takes pictures of everything, all the time
Everyone who followers her online or knows her knows who you are
Talks about you all the time
Will get stern with you if she needs to, but she’s your biggest supporter
Always believes in you and thinks you’re amazing, no matter what
Dami:
It takes a little while to get close to her just because she’s so shy
But she loves all of her friends a lot, even if she doesn’t show it much
Probably disappears for days on end when she gets into a good book
Only to text you with all caps about the plot of the book once she’s done
“THE AUTHOR RUINED IT WITH THE ENDING”
Books are the only thing that can get her riled up
Otherwise she’s casual and just goes with the flow
Very few things annoy her
Although you probably wouldn’t find her in any clubs are bars
Prefers hanging out in quiet places
Being friends with her would mean going to a lot of bookstores, little gift shops, and cafes
Even if you don’t enjoy them, she makes them fun
The two of you make it a game to pick out the craziest titles in bookstores or find the weirdest things in stores
And who doesn’t like trying new drinks and foods?
She would also like long talks
The two of you would probably end up sitting in a car eating and talking late into the night at least once
A great listener
She can always make you calm down somehow
Doesn’t talk about her emotions very much, so when she does it means a lot to you
“I really care about you, by the way. Thanks for being my friend.”
Gahyeon:
She is so cute and sweet!
It would be a little bit like having a puppy as a best friend
It’s impossible not to like her, really
Your friend group is huge because of that
Her smile can brighten even your worse days
Gets excited really easily and it’s contagious
Likes to hang out at amusement parks or anywhere fun, really
A ball of energy and sunshine
You’d probably end up in a few of her vlogs
She would proudly introduce you as her best friend
You could never get away with talking bad about yourself because she’d quickly give you a pout and talk about how awesome you are
Don’t think that she won’t tease you, though
She can be sarcastic when she wants to as well
Although she’d never say anything actually mean
She acts cute so much that you just get used to it
She can always make you laugh or smile
A little bit clumsy and a lot bit silly
This girl just wants to have fun
Your place is full of cute trinkets that she bought because they made her think of you
She acts a lot like a little sister but is there for you if you need her
Gives great hugs with soft encouragement
You’d always know that she has your back
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vaultofqueenorion · 3 years
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It is time to introduce you all to my favorite series of all time by my favorite author of all time, that is the Throne of Glass series by Sarah J. Maas. 
This also means that the whole review will basically be one giant hype-train, even if I will keep spoilers to a minimum. 
So let’s take a deep dive into the story of Adarlan’s greatest assassin, Celaena Sardothien, the most sassy character that I have ever met, and one of the badass women in the series.
The Title
The title is dramatic, it’s got flair, and it also portrays something entirely terrible that had me actually getting chills when I started reading about the villain of the story. 
The castle is made completely of glass. That doesn’t seem particularly practical you say? Well you would be right, and Celaena would agree with you. It’s extravagant, just like the nobles of Adarlan who give no thought to the people that the King of Adarlan has oppressed for a while now. 
It’s also kind of the perfect metaphor for Celaena - extravagant and beautiful, but hiding a fragility, a fear that could bring it all crashing down. 
The Characters
See Celaena might be the Adarlan’s (and maybe even the world’s!) greatest assassin with blood on her teeth and a sharp tongue, but there are hints to her fear, to her utter self depreciation and escapism throughout the whole book.
She is, simply, a hero who doesn’t want to be one.
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It’s quite aptly summed up in the picture above. She doesn’t believe that she’s fated for anything - not after having been through what she’s been through. 
But she puts on a mask and smiles through it all, ridiculing those around her and lavishing in the finer things in life. 
This was one of the things that made me connect so much with her (not the lashing out part, the hiding your true self part - the fear). Her past has left her so broken, so afraid of failure and of the world around her that she simply stopped trying to save it all. 
And yet.
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Because as the above shows, she still does save people. She saves a puppy from being killed for being the ‘runt of the litter’, and she saves a man from falling to his death. She keeps saving those around her, keeps trying even after she says that she’s done.
Even though she has troubles surviving on her own as it is.
That’s also what’s so interesting about Celaena - she manages to be vibrant while hopeless, kind while self-preserving. She’s a full-blooded killer, but she doesn’t kill those who don’t deserve it. There are so many opposites within her, and they all serve to make her an incredibly fun character to follow. 
She’s also very flawed, and she’s got a horribly fiery temper that leaves her with thoughts such as the ones below.
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See? That’s not the voice of a kind and soft spoken woman. That’s the voice of a fighter that has walked through hell and yet still manages to come out the other side. 
A Nehemia so aptly puts it:
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Her spirit remains as it once was - she is scarred and she is hurt, but she kept her defiance going. She kept getting up after being knocked down.
I think that is one of the things that had me relating to her the most. All of those feelings, all of the despair and fear and pain and yet she still manages to get onto her feet one more time after she gets knocked down.
Celaena is a hero who had me getting back on my own two feet long after I finished her story. 
Nehemia is the second character that I want to talk about. The princess of Eyllwe, the land that the Kind of Adarlan has practically enslaved for their rebellion against his power, Nehemia Ytger is stuck in an enemy capital, walking around the torturer of her people at all times. And yet she still manages to keep her chin up, her spine erect.
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She’s a powerful woman, the light of her people, and the dearest friend of Celaena. She’s fierce and Celaena has the idea that she’s fighting to free her people, even as she walks among her enemies, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. 
She’s also the one to bail Celaena out at many points, their friendship deepening with each horrifying secret that they uncover. She’s clever enough to keep her things relatively hidden, but there’s also a hint of sadness to her whenever she talks about her people. As if she knows that she cannot ever do enough.
Chaol is the captain of the Royal Guard. He’s cold, he’s calculating and he’s suspicious of Celaena and her intentions. That is, until you get to know him. He can seem stand-offish - imagine an old grumpy man with a golden heart. The thing is that this old man’s heart (he’s young in the book btw, so don’t take the metaphor too seriously) has been encased in ice and it takes him a while to thaw.
He does, however, appreciate hard work, and I have the sneaking suspicion that he’s proud of Celaena after a while as she goes from hollowed out husk to powerhouse again.
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The above is not a particularly nice part of the book, but it does signify their relationship at first. Chaol sort of tolerates her, he doesn’t really praise her, but he comes to care for her. A lot.
And it was really really nice to have a hero that had to be retrained again, because that is the most realistic thing that I’ve seen in regards to a hero who has come back from a long time of inactivity.
Dorian Havilliard, the Crown Prince of Adarlan, is a softie. At least he seems like that - naive, doesn’t go against his fathers wishes, womanizer. The standard douchey no-good straight guy who has it all.
It’s shown in the dumb question below (which makes Celaena have the most amazing response later on the page, but go read the book to see that one!).
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Because Endovier is the Death camp. It’s been made to kill and to be unescapable. And yet he asks her the unthinkable. Celaena, with her sass and smart assery, gives the perfect response and her escape plan was almost perfect. 
Dorian learns, slowly, to stand up to his father. He learns what it means to care for someone other than himself and his best friend Chaol, and he actually seems to maybe not despise it, but at least rein back on the courtly stuff. But boy oh boy there’s a lot of character development here, and the potential is amazing.
The King of Adarlan was terrifying. He’s a peripheral character, most of the time, but he’s very much prevalent in all of their minds. Sort of a dark presence that never moves, never blinks, he seems to watch their every movement. 
He’s cruel, he’s dark and we have no clue how much he knows. That lack of knowledge is terrifying and it was nice to have a hero that actually feared their adversary rather than felt like they could defeat them, because Celaena, Dorian, everyone feels powerless against him. 
The quote below from Celaena is one that I am especially fond of.
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Cain is ... wow. Don’t even get me started. He’s a brute and he’s just plain cruel for fun. I didn’t like him because he was a bully, but he was never that prominent for me. He was a villain like any other. 
Elena, who is another pretty good but also a bit meh character for me, warns Celaena of this regarding Cain and whatever is going on.
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Elena is not a character that I will go into. She’s sort of the friendly ghost that hangs back and swoops in once in a while, and she seems to want to help Celaena, but you have to take a look at her for yourselves.
The Plot
Ever wanted to read a murder mystery slash assassing tournament slash love and friendship story that takes place in a fantasy world that once held magic but is now dried out? Then this is the one for you.
That is a huge simplification, of course, because reality is so much better. I was in suspense until the end - not about who was the evil one, but rather what is going on. There’s a whole level of suspense going on in figuring out what in the world is happening alongside Celaena, who needs to discover everything for herself.
And gosh. The whole retraining programme in which Celaena finally gets to eat like the noble she feels like, and the way she has her sassy spars with Chaol. 
Just everything.
Also the ball seen at the Yule ball is so worth it and her dress description gives me life.
Then we move on to the tournament. I was in love with the challenges and whenever one presented itself, my eyes were glued to the pages. The way Celaena can easily outmaneuver most of them, but she needs to keep it a secret is priceless.
Also the poison challenge in which the participants need to rank the poisons from the most deadly to the most harmless and then drink whatever they placed as ‘without poisons’ is amazing. Partly because Celaena actually doesn’t identify all of them, and partly because there is just so much confusion among everyone but one (who’s basically a poisoner) and when they drink it. Man did I enjoy watching all the characters that Celaena hated writhe on the ground before they could get the antidote.
Next comes the murders. They are gruesome and terribly well written, and the worst part is that no one can figure out what is doing it. Organs are removed, brains carved out and they are surrounded by strange marks. 
Of course Celaena finds out, which results in one of the most intense scenes in the book, which I very much loved.
The last part of the plot is the actual tournament. It is tense, and it is glorious. A hero who struggles so much at the end will always be appealing to me, and then the scene where she thinks I will not be afraid (below) is one of the most character defining moments for me.
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Because that is who she is. She denies her fear room, she fights on through it, and she says that she is Celaena Sardothien, and she will not be afraid.
It gave me courage, too.
The Language
Gorgeous, stunning, fierce. Can I end the segment there? That’s not enough to convince you? Alright, then let’s take a deep dive.
This is my absolute favorite quote, so much so that I got a version of it tattooed, so the below is really the star of the book.
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It’s got fate in it and it’s got power and it is so beautifully written that I am in awe. The fear part got me - that she is so powerful that she would be able to change the course of the world, but she is too afraid to do it, because of her past, because of the world around her.
Geez that hits right in the feels. 
The stars and darkness and unknown is a huge part of this book and there are so many beautiful quotes that it is hard to narrow it down. The thing is that while the characters carry the book, the language is paced perfectly with snippets of these gems hidden between the pages and it just makes you want to keep coming back, again and again and again.
I found myself trying to emulate her writing style after I had read it (I quickly dropped that again because I kept slipping back into my own style which is honestly the best), and it stuck with me long after I put down the book. 
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In conclusion
Do you get the feeling that I could talk for days and days and days about this book? You are very much right. It is my all time favorite, and I devoured it whole in one sitting when I first got it. I simply couldn’t tear my eyes away from the pages and the wonderful world that Sarah J. Maas has built within. 
So do yourself a favor and check it out. I’ll be giving it five paws, in any case.
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Virtues Uncounted, Part 9
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PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8
Series Pairings: Gwilym Lee x Reader, Joe Mazzello x Reader
Chapter Summary: The year is 1820, in the charming English village of Ashwick Heath. You are a young lady of distinction, rather bored during the long summer months in your family’s country estate. The only reprieve from this boredom is the handsome, if shy, Mr. Gwilym Lee, the youngest son of the noble family living adjacent to you, and his mysterious and brash American cousin, Mr. Mazzello. 
Chapter Warnings: Drinking, LOTS of angst, kissing, fluff :)
Chapter Word Count: 10.9k.....as the French say...thique
Author’s Note: This is it! The penultimate chapter! I’ve been writing this series since June and I cannot believe that it will all be over so soon. As I’ve been hinting at over the past week or so, this chapter has been unofficially titled “The Reckoning,” since it contains (what I think to be, anyways) the climax of the whole series! A major thank you to my beta readers @o-holynight, @rogers-sweatbands and @sweet-ladyy for pushing me further on this chapter with kindness and thoughtfulness (and @o-holynight for the moodboard, too), and as always, big love to all my friends on this site (and off!) who are my sounding boards and hype squad for this fic. This is a work of fiction, and all place names and peerage titles are made up by me, for ease of writing. As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, because they give me feedback! I love to hear your thoughts on the stories I write! 
~~~~~~~~~
Though you have always been partial to homemade jam and toast in the mornings, the rich hot chocolate and freshly-baked pastries that are served for breakfast in Paris has been a welcome change in routine, one that you and your companions have indulged in with great gusto. Lucy's sweet tooth has run rampant, ordering piles of flaky Viennoiserie to the hotel at sun-up, the buttery perfume rousing you all from your beds, stomachs growling. Say what you will about the French; they do know how to bake.
On this particular morning, the dawn of your third day in Paris, the breakfast conversation began with reminiscing about the tour of the city yesterday. With the Bourbon kings being restored to the throne, the city is a construction zone, a new building springing up from piles of stone on nearly every corner in an attempt to restore the monarchic aesthetic that had been destroyed in the Revolution just 30 years previously. From the paltry knowledge of the French language between the four of you, you understand only a few of the grumbled phrases of discontent heard around the city, but what you do hear is virulent. The oppressive mask of a restored monarchy can only do so much to quash the aftershocks of bloody rebellion, and the cracks are showing.
"I, for one, am appalled at the restoration of the king," Joseph declares emphatically, tearing into a croissant, "in America, our revolution against tyranny actually stuck. Perhaps the French are more weak-willed.”
Rami glances anxiously around the room, motioning at his friend to lower his voice. "You know I value democracy as you do, Joseph, but you are used to a level of free speech that is not honored here. King Louis XVIII can have his officers arrest anyone even suspected of treasonous speech without a warrant, and I doubt you would like to spend the rest of our tour locked up in the Bastille."
"But I am not a citizen of France," Joseph mumbles, "so it would not be treason."
"I doubt the King would see it that way," Lucy says, taking a sip of hot chocolate.
"Truth be told, I encourage Joseph to continue his insufferably American habit of speaking his mind any time," you laugh, "if he gets locked up, we might finally get some peace and quiet!"
Rami and Lucy chuckle at your teasing comment but Joseph narrows his eyes at you, grumpily stuffing an enormous bite of pastry into his mouth.
"Having convictions is a virtue, Miss Woolmere," he grouches, locking eyes with you over his teacup.
"A virtue I am in possession of in spades, sir," you snip back, folding your hands on the table in front of you and smiling sweetly at him, almost challenging him to dispute your statement. To his credit, Joseph says nothing, but he continues to stare intensely at you. The silence at the breakfast table is stifling, and after a few moments, Lucy breaks the tension with a light, if awkward, giggle, deftly changing the direction of the conversation.
"So, gentlemen, who are you meeting with today? Anyone interesting?"
"We have an appointment this morning with one of my old friends, Monsieur Guillard. He has set up a meeting for us with an importer in Montmartre, since he is interested in stocking our fabric in his shop but needs a warehouse to store the excess. If this meeting goes well, I daresay our imports to Paris will double, if not triple."
"How exciting!" you enthuse, "this is wonderful news for your business."
"That is if all goes well," Rami cautions.
"And it will," Joseph says, clapping his friend on the back, "there is no one I know with finer fabrics or a sharper business acumen than you, Rami. By the end of this meeting, we shall have every merchant in Paris drooling for your wares."
Rami smiles at Joseph before turning back to his pain au chocolat, his enthusiastic bite smearing a streak of chocolate across his cheek. Lucy reaches over and wipes it away with a napkin, smiling tenderly at him.
"So, what are you ladies going to amuse yourselves with today, then?" he continues.
"I believe (Y/N) and I are going to wander the Champs-Élysées and shop today, right darling?"
You nod, polishing off the last of your hot chocolate. "Yes, I daresay we shall make an entire day of it, considering how long the boulevard is!"
"Is there anything in particular that you are looking to purchase?" Joseph asks, wiping his buttery fingers on his linen napkin.
You shake your head, but apparently Lucy has a lengthy list.
"I am looking for a new pair of dancing slippers and a lace fan, but we simply must buy one dress apiece, at least! I am determined to return to the continent laden with new fashions to dazzle London society with," Lucy says matter-of-factly, as if she does not already stun the court in English-made clothes. "And of course, (Y/N) should probably consider looking for a wedding gown."
You choke on your last bite of pastry, spluttering as Mr. Malek thumps you on the back.
"A wedding gown?" you wheeze out.
"Yes, darling, a wedding gown," she looks at you quizzically, "unless you already have one in Ashwick Heath?"
"I do not," you shake your head, clearing your throat, "but why would I need one?"
"Because you and Mr. Lee have been in constant communication whilst we have been away, and I have caught you many times smiling to yourself while reading his letters," Lucy replies, cocking her head to the side, "I apologize if I misinterpreted, but it seems to me as if perhaps the wedding might proceed upon our return to England."
You just stare at her, brows knitted in both confusion and contemplation. In your mind, this correspondence has not been intentionally flirtatious in the slightest, but you certainly don't feel negatively towards Gwilym. In fact, the exchange of letters has acted as a soothing balm for your regard for your neighbor, each letter allowing the pain from what transpired between the two of you that summer to ebb away, fading into a nearly invisible scar on your heart. Perhaps it is time to start thinking about marrying him, to concede that your feelings have softened and that a life with Gwilym would be comfortable.
Your thoughtful silence appears to make Joseph nervous, and he picks at the surface of a pastry, flaking off the shiny crust with his index finger. Rami is looking at you with curiosity, but says nothing and glances at his wife, waiting for her to continue.
"(Y/N), I apologize, truly, if..."
"No, Lucy, there is no need," you say softly, "I had let it slip from my mind, the necessity of a final response to Gwilym. I suppose I left things slightly ambiguous. And he has been as sweet as ever in his letters..."
"So you are considering it, then?"
You swallow slowly, fidgeting with a loose thread on the cuff of your dress sleeve. "I suppose."
"Well, there is no better place than Paris to be shopping for a gown," Lucy chirps, "and who knows, perhaps a particularly lovely one will get you excited for marriage and then you'll have your answer, no?"
Nodding softly, you tug at the thread, breaking it away from your sleeve and rolling it between your fingers. "I suppose."
Joseph's knife clatters against his porcelain plate, startling you all. "Sorry, it must have slipped from my fingers," he mumbles, staring down at his lap.
"Nothing to worry about," Rami smiles kindly, dabbing his mouth with his napkin before pushing his chair back from the table with a satisfied groan, "but I think we should excuse ourselves, Mr. Mazzello, if we are to make it across the city in time for our meeting with Monsieur Guillard."
Joseph nods curtly but stares anxiously at you, making no move to follow Mr. Malek's example.
"I shall head up to my room to change for our outing, (Y/N)," Lucy hums cheerfully, planting an affectionate kiss on her husband's cheek before ascending the stairs. Rami blushes slightly before mumbling something about hailing a fiacre outside, and he exits the hotel, leaving you and Mr. Mazzello still seated at the breakfast table. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out, and his intense stare is relentless. How bizarre.
"Well," you sigh, folding your napkin and placing it on the table, "I suppose I had better go upstairs as well."
You stand and walk past him, heading for the stairs, but he grabs you firmly by the arm, stopping you in your tracks.
"Would you permit an outing?"
"You needn't ask my permission to go anywhere, Joseph, I am not your mother," you drawl.
Joseph swallows slowly before trying again, clearly made nervous by your sarcastic response. "I meant, would you permit yourself to accompany me on an outing, just the two of us."
"My day has already been promised to Lucy."
"Then tomorrow," he says urgently, his eyes pleading, "please, (Y/N)."
His use of your first name makes your heart quicken, and you completely forget to chastise him for his wanton familiarity, agreeing with a simple nod of your head. He releases his grip on your arm, muttering a brief word of thanks under his breath before donning his hat and briskly following in Mr. Malek's footsteps, the doors of the hotel swinging shut behind him.
* * *
Mr. Mazzello's urgent request soon fades from your mind, replaced by the swirling cacophony of the bustling Avenue des Champs-Élysées. The morning is spent ducking in and out of dozens of shops, money flowing from your purse like a mountain stream, watering the crops of every merchant in Paris.
But if your spending habits are excessive, they are nothing in comparison to Lucy's. By eleven'o'clock, she has already hired a fiacre to take a tower of parcels to the hotel, sending along a letter to the hotelier to have them brought to her room, and she shows no sign of reining herself in anytime soon. When you see her contemplating the fifth lace fan she has taken a liking to that day, you cannot help but tease.
"Are you sure you do not have enough already, Lucy? We may have to hire an entire fleet of ships to take all your purchases back to England with us!"
"But this one is yellow, (Y/N)," she pouts, fluttering the fan at you, "and just look at the embroidery on the edges! The little roses remind me of the bushes outside of the house in London."
"And what does Mr. Malek think of your spending habits?"
She shrugs, snapping the fan closed. "Rami knew who I was before he married me. Besides, I am a woman of independent wealth, and I can spend my five thousand pounds a year as I please."
With a coy little smile, she brings the fan to the shopkeeper, who wraps it in a beautiful package, complete with a silk ribbon. The two of you continue on your way, peeking in window displays as you stroll along the boulevard, perfectly content in your aimlessness.
You are about to suggest finding a restaurant for lunch when Lucy lets out a little squeak of excitement, grabbing your hand and tugging you along the cobblestones. Her destination is clear; she is pulling you straight towards a freshly-painted store front with a wooden sign covered in elegant script, which reads "Michel Montparnasse: Belles Robes et Vêtements de Mariée." Your mind races to try and translate the French, but your eyes are quicker at putting the clues together.
There is a white gown in the front window.
"Lucy, no," you protest, trying to wrestle your hand from her grasp, but her fingers are vicelike, and you are unwillingly escorted into the dressmaker's shop. Unlike the other tailors you have visited today, this store is brightly lit, thanks to the slanted windows placed high on the roof-line. The sunbeams filtering in glance off of the jewels and beads that adorn the gowns in the shop, bedecking the lavender-colored walls with specks of brilliant light. Lucy is glowing with delight, eagerly running her hands along the delicate fabrics draped over the mannequins. Perhaps if you were not so anxious, you would be as enraptured as she.
"Lucy, please, let's go," you whisper, inching towards the door.
"Oh, (Y/N), there's no need to be so dramatic! They are just dresses. Just try one on, for me."
You shake your head and reach for the doorknob, but a voice rings out from the back of the shop, halting you for the sake of propriety.
"Bonjour, mesdames!"
A portly, grey-haired man hurries from the back of the shop, his eyes twinkling with excitement at the prospect of customers. He bows lowly to your and Lucy, and the two of you curtsy back. The shopkeeper must have heard you speaking before, because he mercifully continues on in English.
"Welcome to my shop, mesdames. I am Monsieur Montparnasse."
"I am Mrs. Malek, and my enchanting friend over there by the door is Miss Woolmere," Lucy gestures towards you, smiling graciously.
Monsieur Montparnasse nods at you politely, reaching into the breast pocket of his coat for a little pair of bifocals. "From your name, Mrs. Malek, I take it that your friend is the one looking for a wedding gown, non?"
"I am n-"
"That is correct, monsieur," Lucy says quickly, cutting off your protest and grabbing you by the arm before whispering in your ear. "It's best not to confuse the gentleman."
"There is nothing for him to be confused about," you whisper back, "I do not know if I am going to marry Gwilym."
"But I still want you to try on a dress," Lucy snips, "just to see. We are in Paris, darling! Live a little."
Monsieur Montparnasse is watching your hushed conversation with a politely curious face, his hands clasped eagerly in front of his chest. "May I ask when the wedding is, mademoiselle?"
"Um..."
"In just a few weeks, monsieur, in England."
You glare at Lucy, who just grins at you before flitting around the store, examining all the dresses on display while chattering to Monsieur Montparnasse, seemingly enjoying the theatricality of her white lies.
"Yes, my darling Miss Woolmere is to marry the son of an earl, a handsome young man, and quite wealthy, too! He is atrociously in love with her, so we are determined to find a dress that will meet both of their expectations. Do you design the gowns yourself, Monsieur?"
The dressmaker is thrilled to find someone so enthusiastic about fashion, and he and Lucy converse jovially whilst they examine the gowns, glancing every so often at you, assessing whether or not a particular dress will suit you.
You wish you could just pretend, like Lucy, but you cannot. This is entirely too serious for you. What would Gwilym say if he knew you were out shopping for wedding gowns? His hopes would soar, and you cannot bear to break his heart again.
But would you be breaking his heart? Lucy did make a fine point this morning...the two of you have been as close and conversational as ever these past few weeks, and you do enjoy reading his letters. Perhaps absence really does make the heart grow fonder. And besides your own pleasant opinion of him, he makes you feel desired. Isn't that enough?
"I believe this one is perfect for you, mademoiselle," Monsieur Montparnasse hums in delight, whisking the gown from its mannequin and carrying it towards you, "I shall have my seamstress Claire assist you in the fitting."
"And perhaps you could try this one on as well!" Lucy adds, running her hands along the sleeves of the gown near her, "I think it is exquisite."
"I said I would try only one," you grit out.
"It is no trouble to me or Claire, mademoiselle!" the dressmaker exclaims, snapping his fingers for his assistant, who comes out of the back, pincushion in hand. He hands her the gown in his hands and quickly grabs the one Lucy likes, the three of you heading to the back of the shop.
While the dressmaker heads back to the front of the shop to chat with Lucy, Claire decides to put you in your friend's selection first. It is a cream-colored gown with a train of silk that extends several feet behind you, whispering across the floorboards as the seamstress deftly dresses you. It feels strange to have another woman assisting you after these weeks alone, and your heart pangs briefly for Margie. The sleeves of the dress are puffed slightly larger than what is currently fashionable in England and the belt below your bust is encrusted with freshwater pearls arranged in an undulating wave pattern, giving you the appearance of being drenched with droplets of ocean water. It is indeed a beautiful dress, and while perhaps it would suit Lucy, it does not feel right to you. 
Claire assists you to the front room, where Lucy and Monsieur Montparnasse gasp in delight immediately.
"Mon Dieu, you look like a siren, mademoiselle! Absolutely bewitching!"
Lucy is beaming, clapping her hands together in delight. "He is right, (Y/N), you look utterly chic. Monsieur Montparnasse was telling me that this style of dress is quite in demand in Paris currently."
"It is very unique," you admit, "but it does not feel...right. I can see you wearing a gown like this, Lucy, but it feels as if the dress is wearing me, and it should be the other way around, should it not?”
Both Lucy and the dressmaker nod contemplatively. Mr. Montparnasse steps forward to fiddle with the puffed sleeves, adjusting them delicately whilst looking at you in the mirror.
“When you were a small girl, mademoiselle, what did you imagine wearing on your wedding day?”
His question catches you off guard, and you just stare into the looking glass, mind wandering. When you truly think back, you realize you had never once fantasized about actually getting married. Sure, in your novels, you read countless tales of men and women trotting gaily to the altar, clad in their finery, but you never had to imagine anything for yourself. 
All your life, you had known that you would marry. What was the need of fantasizing about the inevitable? 
Your silence seems to speak volumes to Monsieur Montparnasse, who beckons Claire over silently. They exchange a few whispered words before Claire leads you away again to the back, carefully undoing the buttons on the beautiful gown. A moment later, she darts away, returning with a different dress. 
It is not the one the gentleman selected earlier, however. This one is pure white organdy, as fine as the silk on the other dress, lighter but still spell-bindingly beautiful.  The material is embroidered with flowers, stitched in white, exquisitely subtle in comparison to the more ostentatious dresses in the shop. As you run your fingers over the soft fabric, you cannot help but sigh. Claire smiles softly at you, slipping the gown over your head and quickly fastening you in. 
The air seems still when you are led back to the looking glass at the front of the shop, as if even the dust on the uppermost shelves is watching you. You smile at Lucy, who immediately lets out a strangled little cry and clasps her hands together, a tear falling before she has time to wipe it away.
“Oh, (Y/N)...”
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
“More than pretty, my darling. It is perfection.”
“I believe this dress was made just for you, Mademoiselle Woolmere,” Monsieur Montparnasse adds, nodding in satisfaction, “somehow, I must have known that you would visit my little shop.”
“You simply must buy it, (Y/N)!” Lucy enthuses, “you shall never find something so beautiful in London, I am positive.”
Despite all the praise, you look in the mirror again and find yourself deflating slightly. The dress is indeed exquisite, and it fits like a dream. You look every inch the blushing bride everyone has always expected you to be. But you cannot commit to this image of yourself, not when the man standing at the end of the aisle in your imagination is a faceless shadow. 
“I cannot, Lucy. You know I cannot.”
Lucy gapes at you in disbelief, but surprisingly, the dressmaker simply nods, motioning for Claire to accompany him to the rear room, giving the two of you time alone. 
“My mother would want to be here,” you say quietly, lip trembling, “perhaps I am too sentimental, but I know she would want to help me pick out my wedding dress.”
“But the wedding…”
“Might not happen. I cannot bring myself to buy this beautiful gown, knowing it might never be used.”
Lucy opens her mouth to protest again but you cut her off with a firm look, or as firm as it can be with tears threatening to spill. “I have tried in vain not to break too many hearts, Lucy. I cannot break my own as well.”
With one last look in the mirror, you retreat to change back into your walking dress, thanking Claire for her assistance. Not daring to leave Monsieur Montparnasse’s shop without purchasing something as a way of showing gratitude, Lucy purchases two evening gowns, both in elegant shades of blue, which the dressmaker wraps beautifully.
“Merci, monsieur,” you say politely, a little embarrassed for all the fuss you have caused, “I am most in awe of your talents as a dressmaker.”
Monsieur Montparnasse smiles warmly at you and gives you a little wink over the top of his bifocals. “If you ever find yourself in need of a gown, mademoiselle, you know where to find me.”
The easy conversation that flowed between you and Lucy all morning is now punctuated by long stretches of awkward silence, both of you reflecting on the half-hour you spent in the dressmaker's shop while attempting to keep up a façade of interest in the activities on the bustling boulevards of Paris.
Whilst poking around the rest of the stores on the Champs-Élysées, you stumble across a silversmith's shop, the window display gleaming like a beacon across the avenue. Lucy is far more interested in the porcelain tea sets in the neighboring store, so the two of you part ways temporarily.
The bell above the door of the silversmith's shop tinkles as you enter, and the shopkeeper greets you with a nod, his preoccupation with polishing the candlesticks on his counter allowing you to browse freely. Each shelf is laden with beautifully crafted items, anything you could possibly imagine crafted from silver shining in the early afternoon light. You examine several necklaces, a cream pitcher, and an exquisitely engraved pocket watch before something special catches your eye: a set of two silver pens, elegantly carved with laurel leaves and sitting in a soft velvet box.
The first person to pop into your mind when you see it is Joseph. This trip to the Continent was an enjoyable extension to his inevitable departure back to America, but you know that once you arrive back in England, he will board another ship and sail home to New York.
You meant what you said on board the ship to Amsterdam. What you wrote in your letter all those weeks ago, that you wanted Joseph to write to you after he returns home, is true. Perhaps buying these pens for him will prompt him to do so, to not forget about you.
Unfortunately, you do not have the amount to purchase it on your person, especially considering that you must save your coins for lunch at Le Grand Véfour with Lucy, who has been eager to dine there for weeks, but you make a mental note of the price and vow to return tomorrow for it.
* * *
Later that night, after a hearty dinner and an evening walk in one of the nearby gardens, you retire to your bedchamber, mind still reeling from your experience at the dressmaker’s shop. That outing should have been fun. It should have been an opportunity to play dress-up with a friend and vaguely consider what you might want in a wedding gown, should the need arise. But instead, it has left you feeling sick to your stomach with worry, your mind churning like a stormy sea, tormented by that shadowy figure in your mind, waiting for you with an outstretched hand. 
The hours tick by, each turn of the arms around the polished clock face heralding in the passage of time with a soft peal of a bell. You are desperate for sleep, knowing that tomorrow you must be up early to meet Joseph, but you cannot calm your frantic mind. 
Twelve chimes ring softly across the darkened bedroom, their sweet sound souring in your ears. Midnight. Something must be done, or you shall never be able to sleep tonight.
Groaning, you swing your legs out of bed, grabbing a discarded morning dress from your trunk and pulling it on over your cotton shift, haphazardly buttoning it before wrapping a shawl around your shoulders. You light the half-burned candle by your bedside and hold it cautiously aloft, careful not to spill any hot wax on your hand as you pad quietly from your room.
Your quest is for some warm milk, your mother's remedy for sleeplessness. The hotelier is a bit bleary-eyed when you knock on his door, but is more than happy to oblige, asking you to wait in the tavern below whilst he prepares a mug for you.
You descend into the darkened room slowly, not wanting to misstep and tumble down the winding staircase and injure yourself. The tavern is silent and, on first inspection, you assume it to be empty, but another candle flickers in the darkness, perched on a corner table.
"Hello?" you call softly, unsure of whether or not the other person even speaks English, let alone wants company.
You hear the rustling of fabric and the clinking of glass on wood before a familiar voice sighs out. "Hello, Miss Woolmere."
"Joseph? Is that you?"
"In the flesh."
Drawing closer to him, you see he is alone, a half-empty bottle of sherry perched on the stained wood table in front of him. He pours out a dram of the amber liquid and gestures for you to take the seat opposite him, leaning back as he takes a sip.
"Why are you up at this hour?" you inquire, shivering in the cool evening air.
"I could ask you the same question," he replies, tracing his finger along the base of the glass.
"I cannot sleep."
"Funny," he says with a forlorn little smile, "neither can I."
You nod, watching his fingers move. "Bad dreams?"
"I suppose so," he says, taking another sip of sherry, "would you like a glass?"
"No, thank you. The hotelier is warming me a mug of milk. Mother always recommended I drink that when I could not sleep as a child."
Joseph wrinkles his nose at the mention of milk. "Forgive me, but I do not think I will be partaking in that home remedy."
"I wouldn’t dare offer," you laugh lightly. As if on cue, the hotelier comes into the tavern, a steaming earthenware mug in his hands. He places it on the table and gives a little bow to you and Joseph, wishing the two of you a good night before disappearing up the stairs again.
"Where did you get the sherry?" you ask, wrapping your chilled fingers around the warm clay.
Joseph shrugs, setting his empty glass down. "Borrowed it from the kitchen."
"So you stole it."
"Considering the price of bedchambers here, I believe I am entitled to a free drink or two," he snorts, running his hand through his hair. The flickering candle illuminates his face, making his hazel eyes sparkle in the warm orange glow. You had always thought Joseph to be a handsome man, but there is something in particular about him tonight that is even more alluring than usual, something magnetic. You suddenly find yourself shifting in your seat, wishing that he would just surge forward and kiss you.
But Gwilym's face appears in your mind, as always, halting your lustful thoughts. You and Joseph cannot have another moment like you did in the library all those months ago, despite your body and heart aching for it. Do you not owe it to Gwilym to refrain from indulging your devil-may-care attraction to Joseph?
But is it just passion that you feel for the American? These past few weeks have contained many intimate, engaging, and often raucous conversations between the two of you, bringing you closer together than you had ever thought possible with the rough-and-tumble redhead. At the beginning of the summer, your only thoughts of him had been ones of mild distaste, but now...could they be blooming into something more?
You shake your head, attempting to banish these thoughts from your mind. Adding more burning questions to the list in your brain will certainly not help you fall asleep. In any case, it is unlikely that Joseph feels the same way as you, and even if he did, what do you actually know about love, apart from what you have read?
The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, only stirring to take sips of your respective beverages. Joseph keeps glancing up at you, but when your eyes meet, he quickly looks away, as if he is intimidated by your gaze.
The silence weighs heavily, the air thick with things unspoken. You cannot bear it any longer, but you do not know what to say, blurting out the first thing to come to mind.
"Have you ever been in love, Joseph?"
You try to scold yourself silently for using his given name, but somehow, calling him 'Mr. Mazzello' in this moment feels too formal, too distant. Besides, it is not like you can take it back now that it has been said.
"Have I ever been in love?" His eyes, which have been growing ever-more distant with each sip of sherry, focus sharply on you. "Why do you ask?"
"I...I...I suppose I am trying to figure out whether or not I am in love," you stammer, suddenly feeling quite warm. Curse your tongue for not exercising more caution with what it blurts out.
"With Gwilym," he mutters, his eyes returning to the sherry bottle in front of him. You shrug, taking a sip of your warm milk. Joseph looks like he has eaten something bitter, his mouth curling in displeasure as he pours himself another glass.
"If you do not wish to speak about it..."
"It's fine. Doesn't much matter anyway," he sighs, taking a long sip, "I suppose I have been in love. Once. With a very unique girl. She was everything one could wish for; beautiful, smart, witty...utterly captivating, in the truest sense of the world."
You are surprised by his candor, but even more surprised by your own reaction. Red flames of jealousy begin to lick at the walls of your stomach, an angry heat building in your body. Joseph has loved before. But are you jealous of that fact, or jealous of the girl he is speaking so wistfully about? Perhaps a bit of both.
"She sounds nice," you grumble, fingers tightening around the ceramic mug, growing steadily cooler in the dark tavern air.
Joseph hums in agreement, placing his glass down. "In all honesty, I think I was more in love with her than I could ever admit, and part of me thinks she loved me back. But it was hard to tell with her. One moment, she would be as gay as ever, laughing at my jokes and burning with a desire to know me, and the next moment, she would grow cold, pushing me away and closing any doors into her soul that she had left open."
"How could you ever love someone who treated you so poorly?" you ask, furrowing your brow, "you are far too good a man to deserve that, Mr. Mazzello."
Joseph smiles sadly, taking another sip of sherry before responding. "We do not always choose who we fall in love with, Miss Woolmere. Besides, no matter how deeply I loved her, it could never be. She was promised to another."
"I am so sorry," you whisper, your jealousy ebbing away into sympathy as you reach out to place your hand on his. Joseph stiffens at the touch, but does not move away, his eyes fixing on your fingers with an anguished look.
"And the most pitiful thing is, despite knowing we can never be together, I still love her. I do not think I will ever stop loving her."
"Well, you should," you say coldly, withdrawing your hand, "you deserve someone who loves you back, Mr. Mazzello. Someone who makes you smile at the sheer thought of them, not drown your sorrows in a bottle of sherry."
"You're the one who brought up the whole subject of love in the first place," he growls, "and besides, what do you know of it? You are marrying the first man to express any interest in you."
"Because I have to!" you explode, slamming your hand on the table, "in case you were not aware, women must do as we are told, not as we feel! We are not encouraged to sow our wild oats as men are! You may have only loved this one woman, but I am certain you have spoken sweet nothings to countless others before, and what a privilege that is!"
"And would you have actually done anything differently, if given the opportunity?" he challenges, leaning forward in his chair.
"God, yes! I am twenty years old, and have only kissed two men in my entire life, and one of them was you! I hardly think I've had an exciting love life," you say derisively.
Joseph's eyes widen at your words, shocked that you brought up that clandestine moment again. "So you did not..."
"What?"
"You did not enjoy our kiss?"
You freeze, unsure about what to say. That kiss meant everything to you, but you cannot explain why to Joseph without betraying more than you wish. It made you feel sensual and autonomous and uninhibited, something that your kiss with Gwilym did not.
"I did not say that," you whisper, bowing your head to avoid his gaze.
"Why will you never say what you mean to me, Miss Woolmere?" he asks, "is the truth so dangerous?"
"You know as well as I do that vulnerability can destroy lives, Mr. Mazzello," you hiss, "I am trying to minimize the damage I cause to myself and others."
"By denying yourself honesty and happiness?"
You scoff at him, crossing your arms and pushing your chair away from the table. "You're one to talk. If you loved this woman so much, why not go after her? Clearly you love her. So be bold. Why deny yourself honesty and happiness?"
Joseph's lip trembles at your tone, his eyes beginning to well up. "I do not know if I deserve it, Miss Woolmere."
"Of course you do," you say flatly, "we all deserve happiness."
He does not move, his eyes focused on the wall behind you in an attempt not to break. Seeing him so profoundly sad pulls at your heartstrings, but the jealousy in your stomach is more powerful. Whoever this woman is, she does not deserve the sweet, sensitive, smart man before you. No one does.
"I think I should go to bed," you mumble, standing up with a sigh. "I apologize if I said anything to offend you, sir."
"It doesn't matter," he says, wiping his eyes.
"I would never want to cause you pain, Mr. Mazzello, truly."
He just nods, avoiding your gaze.
"Tomorrow is our last day in Paris," you say, trying desperately to pull him out of this pit of melancholy, "perhaps we can do something fun to take your mind off of this woman."
"You don't have to humor me," he spits out, "I don't need your pity."
"You are the one who asked me this morning on an outing," you say sternly, trying not to reveal how much his tone wounds you, “and I honor my commitments.”
Joseph looks at you, his eyes dull. "I know you do."
You place your empty mug on a tray in the corner of the room and ascend the dark staircase again, not bothering to go back for your candle, which is nearly burnt out. "Good night."
“Good night.”
Feeling your way along the darkened hall, you reach your bedroom, locking the door behind you as you strip off the shawl and muslin dress. The covers, now cool from the time you have spent away from them, welcome you, their smoothness enveloping your body as you slip between. 
The jealousy boiling in your stomach has reduced to a simmer now that you are no longer in Joseph’s presence, but it still plagues you. Why are you so bothered by this woman he told you about? You have no right to be, and you know that. It would be foolish to think you could ever possess Mr. Mazzello.
But you want to. 
This excursion down to the tavern has taught you two things in a very short span of time. One, warm milk does nothing to make you fall asleep, and two; you have genuine, undeniable feelings for Joseph. 
* * *
The next day is, tragically, your last full day in Paris, and all four of you are anxious to make the most of this final day. Mr. Malek takes Lucy with him on his business visit, as she is old acquaintances with the sister of the man Rami is dealing with, which leaves you and Joseph alone.
When you come downstairs for breakfast, he is already at the table, listlessly flipping through the newspaper that, as far as you know, he cannot read a word of. He is more fidgety than normal, silent and pale as he picks at the pain aux raisins on his plate, unraveling the neatly spiraled bun.
"Good morning," you sigh airily, pouring yourself a cup of tea and trying not to let on how tired you are from your restless night.
"Morning," Joseph grumbles, tearing off chunks of his pastry and dropping them back onto the plate.
You eye him suspiciously, reaching for the pitcher of milk. "Are you feeling alright, Mr. Mazzello? Too much sherry last night?”
He nods and hums a quick affirmation, his attention now turned to plucking the raisins out from the bun. You have never seen him behave so peculiarly.
"If you would prefer us to not go on this outing..."
"No!" he shouts, turning pink from embarrassment at his outburst, "no, I would very much like to go, still."
"Okay," you nod slowly, taking a sip of tea to hide the smile growing on your lips at his flustered response, "so where are we going, then? My schedule is entirely at your mercy, sir."
"I..."
"You do have something in mind, right?" you ask archly, staring at him across the table.
"I was thinking we could walk to the cathedral on the Île de la Cité," he mutters, "unless you do not wish to."
"That sounds fascinating," you smile, hoping to pull him out of this strange mood. "Once I finish breakfast, I shall change into a walking dress and we can depart."
Joseph nods, the two of you settling into a slightly uncomfortable silence for the next few minutes as you polish off two rolls and another cup of tea, watching him scan the newspaper. You are trying not to stare at him too much, determined to not reveal the revelation you had last night, but the lack of conversation and eye contact is only heightening the awkwardness. This morning is off to a bizarre start.
You dash upstairs and quickly change into a pink walking dress, completing the outfit with one of the new French bonnets you purchased yesterday with Lucy. It is amazing how efficiently you can dress yourself without assistance now, and you are quite proud of that fact. Smoothing your skirts, you descend the stairs again, meeting Mr. Mazzello in the atrium. His mood seems improved from earlier, and he offers you his arm, which you accept with a smile before heading out onto the streets of the city.
"So where are you taking me, Mr. Mazzello? The city island?”
"Yes, the Île de la Cité."
"Why?" you prompt, squeezing his arm lightly, "what is so special about this island? Wouldn't you like to spend our last day in Paris gallivanting through restaurants and palaces and gardens and such?"
"I do not much care where we spend the time, Miss Woolmere," he says, pausing on the sidewalk, "if you would prefer to do something else, I would oblige you."
"You misunderstand me, Mr. Mazzello," you smile, "I have no agenda of my own. I simply wish to understand yours."
The tip of Joseph's nose blushes pink, but he ducks his chin and walks on. "Oh. Well then, I suppose the reason I wish to explore the island is because of the history there. I figured you had read about it in some novel or another."
You wrinkle your nose at him. "I do not read French novels."
"Well, pardon me, Miss," he laughs, "I thought you were a broadly-educated woman."
"I am," you sniff, "but an accomplished woman need not learn the language of her enemies."
"Your patriotism astounds me. Are you sure you are not an American?"
"Maybe I was meant to be," you grin, "but I just love England too much. My apologies to George Washington and Betsy Ross and the like."
Joseph laughs, the full-bellied laugh you first heard at that dinner at Moorhead Park in June; the laugh you had barely heard since you and Gwilym became engaged. It sends a little thrill through your body to hear it again, and your smile grows wider.
"So, tell me about the Île de la Cité, then," you say brightly, clinging more tightly to his arm. The streets are growing more crowded with every step you take towards the river, but Joseph places his gloved hand on your sleeve and deftly guides you along.
"Well, it has been peopled since Gallic times, and legend has it that Vercingetorix himself ordered a fort built on the island, should Julius Caesar ever invade Gaul."
"Which he did."
"Which he did," Joseph affirms, "and when the Romans invaded, they established a settlement called Lutetia on the island. After that, all was fairly quiet until the Merovingians built a palace and cathedral there sometime in the 10th century."
"Notre-Dame?" you ask distractedly, trying to digest all the interesting information while avoiding stepping in the muck on the cobblestones.
"The original cathedral built there was dedicated to Saint Stephen, actually," he corrects, "the famous cathedral there now was built later, in the 12th century."
"I had no idea you were so knowledgeable about history, Mr. Mazzello."
He smiles down at you, adjusting the brim of his hat. "Contrary to what you may believe, Miss, I did go to school."
Before you have the chance to retort, he points out the towers of the cathedral, looming high above the other buildings of Paris, and takes your hand, pulling you towards the river with renewed excitement. The two of you traipse across the Pont Neuf, lifting handkerchiefs to your noses to mask the stench floating off the Seine, before arriving in front of the cathedral.
The Gothic architecture reminds you of the cathedrals you have visited in England, and, sighing with content, you pull Joseph to the giant doors, marveling at the ornate stone carvings that grace every inch of the exterior. The wooden doors are well worn from centuries of use, and they creak as the porter opens them for you, allowing the two of you to step into the cool darkness beyond.
It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim interior, illuminated solely by candles and the light streaming in through the stained glass of the rose window.
"We have nothing like this in America," he whispers, eyes widening in awe as they wander around the lofted space, marveling at the soaring vaults and gleaming glass.
"It is so beautiful," you smile taking his hand in yours and giving it an earnest squeeze, "thank you for bringing me here."
Joseph simply nods, still consumed by wonder. The two of you part ways and wander individually around the massive cathedral. All around you, people are lighting candles and kneeling, the stone walls echoing with quick footsteps and hushed prayers.
While you are admiring a beautiful stone statue, you see Joseph duck into a confessional booth, the click of the door sounding like a shot in the cavernous space.
The only church in Ashwick Heath was Anglican, and he had gone each Sunday with the Lees, so you suppose you had forgotten that Joseph's family was Catholic. Is that part of the reason why this was the first stop on your outing today? You know it is wrong, but a small part of you wishes you could overhear what he is whispering to the priest, to know the deepest secrets of his heart.
And more blasphemous still, you could not help but wonder if he is talking about you.
Even indulging that thought for a moment floods your body with embarrassment and you quickly walk out of sight from the confession booths, trying to distract your hyperactive mind with the gravity of a particularly tragic Pieta painting. A few minutes later, Joseph appears behind you, looking fidgety and nervous again, much like he was at breakfast.
"Are you ready to depart, or do you wish to stay longer?"
"I am ready," you nod, walking back up the aisle towards the door, Mr. Mazzello trailing behind you. The sunlight in the plaza is blinding, and the two of you stand stiffly in the doorway, squinting in the harsh midday glow before the porter jostles you away.
Since neither of you have a plan, you choose a direction and begin walking, ducking into a narrow alley and peering in windows, curious about the cramped, medieval city architecture. After a few minutes of aimless wandering, a strange sound catches your attention and you freeze, turning back to look at Joseph.
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Listen!” you whisper, holding up a hand to silence him. The strange noise echoes down the alley, an odd cacophonous chatter interspersed with bird calls. Never in your life had you heard such a disturbing racket, but the unfamiliarity just piques your interest further. 
“Come on, then!” you mutter to Joseph, slipping your hand in his and dragging him along the alley, seeking the source of all the noise. 
After a few twists and turns in the cramped medieval back passages of the Île de la Cité, the two of you pop out onto a street lined with cages, makeshift awnings fluttering in the light summer breeze. They provide some shade from the bright sun overhead, so you duck underneath, still pulling Joseph along with you to look at the contents.
They are filled with birds in every size, shape, and color, squawking and preening their feathers, the symphony of sounds bringing a smile to your face. You had never seen anything like this in England, and the novelty makes you positively giddy. 
“Look at how enchanting they are,” you chirp out, drawing closer to the cages to examine a particularly beautiful parrot, its jewel-like feathers gleaming as it flaps its wings, “I have only read of parrots and toucans in the encyclopedias, but I’ve never seen them in real life before.”
"Cat food," Joseph sniffs, looking down his nose at a bright yellow canary, who cheeps indignantly at him. You giggle at that, and his expression softens at your curiosity and fascination with the little creatures. 
“Oh, don’t be so cruel, Mr. Mazzello! They’re beautiful.”
“Do you like birds, then, Miss Woolmere?”
You pause, considering your answer. “I haven’t really thought about it before. But I suppose I relate to them, in some ways...able to fly, but only so far as the bars of the cage permit.”
If you had been looking at the man behind you, you might have seen his face shatter, utterly heartbroken at your words, the little smile falling from his lips like a leaf in the autumn, brittle and world-weary. But you do not, and he makes no further comments.
With some time spent at the bird market, chatting haltingly with the sellers to discover the species of a few particularly fascinating ones, the two of you keep wandering the streets of Paris, leaving the Île de la Cité behind you and eventually making your way back to the silversmith's shop where you saw the pens yesterday. 
“Would you mind terribly if I duck in for a moment? I promise I won’t be long.”
Joseph just nods, following you into the store as his eyes wander the shelves, taking in all the little trinkets with vague curiosity. He browses the display cases as you ask the shopkeeper, in fumbling French, to wrap up the pen set for you, which he does obligingly, fastening a silky white ribbon around the velvet box.  
With your purpose fulfilled, you wait expectantly at the door but Joseph approaches the counter, muttering quietly to the shopkeeper in much better French than you expected.
"Are you ready to go, Mr. Mazzello?"
"I need just one moment, please, Miss Woolmere. You could wait outside for me, if you wish."
You nod and head outside, watching through the glass as Joseph gestures at something in the display case, writing something down on a piece of paper that the silversmith offers to him. A few moments later, he retrieves his coin purse from his inner jacket pocket and deposits a hefty pile of Francs on the counter, the smith's eyes lighting up. Whatever Joseph just purchased, it is sure to feed the merchant's family for a month, at least.
Your curiosity pricks at your nerves, and when Joseph emerges from the shop moments later, you cannot hold back your question.
"What did you buy?"
Joseph shrugs, adjusting the brim of his hat as he takes off down the street at a brisk pace. "Nothing of consequence."
"Mr. Mazzello, that was at least fifty Francs,” you scoff, trotting after him, “that is not an insignificant amount of money!”
"What did you buy, then, if we are so curious about purchases?"
Smiling coyly, you take his arm, pressing close to him to avoid jostling the other pedestrians around you. "You'll see."
"I am surprised you have any money left after buying a wedding gown yesterday," he grumbles.
"I didn't."
He scoffs incredulously, glancing at you sideways, “then whose coins are you using to buy surprises at the silversmith’s?”
You shake your head, still smiling. “No, I mean I did not buy a gown yesterday.”
The teasing expression disappears from Joseph’s face, instead replaced with one of confusion. “But you and Lucy...it sounded like you had made a decision.”
“I haven’t,” you say simply, shrugging, “I care so deeply for Gwilym, but I know it is not love. It is affection. Friendship.” The experience at the dress shop clarified that decision for you. It is not Gwilym waiting at the end of the aisle for you, and you are certain of that now. 
You are jerked to a stop by Joseph halting, his strides freezing as he stares at you. 
“Do not say that.”
“What?”
His eyes dart around the busy street, chest heaving slightly from the shallow breaths he is taking in. “We cannot talk here.”
He takes your arm and whisks you away, the two of you weaving between the citizens of Paris on the streets, your free hand flying to your bonnet to keep it from flying away. 
“Mr. Mazzello, slow down! I can hardly keep up!”
But he does not slow, his eyes frantically searching for the familiar sign of your hotel, and once he spots it, he pulls you across the lobby and up the stairs, his grip unrelenting. Your eyes widen when he turns onto the landing of the third floor, because you finally realize where he is taking you; his bedchamber. As he reaches for the doorknob, you plant your heels firmly, pulling your arm from his grasp.
“Explain to me this instant what your intentions are, sir, I demand it! You cannot expect me to enter the bedroom of a bachelor after he has just dragged me through the streets of a city!” 
“My intentions are pure, I assure you, Miss Woolmere,” Joseph splutters, blushing crimson, “I swear, I would never lay a finger on you. Do you not trust me? I simply wish to speak in private.”
Your breathing is ragged from the frantic dash across the city, but your body softens at his earnestness, letting the frustration ebb away. 
“I trust you, Joseph. Of course I do,” you say softly, holding your hand back out to him, “but you cannot blame me for being wary.”
“Your intuition and mind are things I treasure, (Y/N),” he replies, opening the door and taking your hand gingerly, “and I apologize if my erratic behavior frightened you, but…”
“But what?”
He closes the door softly behind you, sinking wearily down onto the little couch in the corner of his bedroom. “You cannot say things like that.”
“Like what?” you ask, genuinely confused as you take a seat next to him on the well-worn cushions.
“That you haven’t decided. That you aren’t going to go back to marry him.”
“But I do not think I shall,” you say slowly, squinting at him incredulously.
Joseph groans and buries his hands in his hair, tugging at the roots. “You are an impossible woman!”
“A rich accusation, coming from you” you spit out, leaning away from him.
“I cannot stand it any longer! This incessant ambiguity about your engagement shall drive me insane!”
“Why does it matter to you, Joseph? Why do you care so intensely?”
“Because of your letter!” he explodes, hands flying emphatically from his mussed hair, “you said you care for me, (Y/N), and if you truly care for me, you will put me out of my misery.”
“Your misery?” you challenge, feeling anger boil in the pit of your stomach, “Speak plainly, Joseph, or stop talking.”
The man falls from the couch to his knees in front of you, grasping at your skirts, his face pure agony. His advance is so uncouth that you attempt to squirm away, but Joseph holds you steady, his eyes boring imploringly into yours. 
“Will you marry Gwilym or not?”
“No!”
“Then will you marry me?”
Everything stops. The world seems to freeze, its energy drawn as tight as a bowstring, the archer’s two fingers the only things keeping the deadly arrow betwixt them from flying. Every sense of yours is heightened, focused entirely on the desperate man in front of you, so sharp that you swear you can hear his heart pounding. Or maybe that is your own. 
“What?”
“Marry me, (Y/N).”
Still entirely in shock, you can only muster the shortest of questions. 
“Why?”
Joseph moans again, burying his head in your skirts, which makes you draw in a sharp breath, entirely unaccustomed to having a man so close to you. 
“Because I have been hopelessly in love with you since that night at the ball all those months ago, if not before that! Because every time I see you, my heart swells until I feel I must burst! Because when you smile at me, or touch my arm, I see stars, (Y/N). I will never have words enough to explain how profoundly and ardently I love you.”
His hands are digging into your thighs so tightly that you have to pull them off of you, grasping his between yours and clasping them on your lap, the tangle of twenty fingers sitting like a cannonball upon your knees. Joseph’s eyes are now brimming with tears, his lip trembling as he gazes up at you.
“Please say something, (Y/N). Please.”
“I don’t...I don’t know what to say.”
“You could say yes, and we could run away together. Back to America, if you want, or anywhere else in the world. I would follow you to the ends of the Earth, if you allowed me to.”
Your mind is swimming, memories crashing like waves through your consciousness, pulling up forgotten scenes and feelings from the summer months gone by. How his eyes sparkled when he kissed your hand for the first time. How he brought a book he clearly had never read to you, simply as a way to talk to you about your interests. How secure his arms felt that night at the ball, and how devastated he looked when you pushed him away. How you could never push him from your thoughts during your entire engagement to Gwilym. How soft his lips felt against your own. How his touch ignited a fire inside of you. 
Joseph Francis Mazzello III has utterly enchanted you, and it has taken far too long for you to realize it. 
“When I wake in the morning, you are the first thing I think of, and when I lie down at night, yours is the face that lulls me to sleep. I cannot fathom how I lived before having you in my life, (Y/N), and the thought of you disappearing from it has made me weep more times than I can count. I love you, (Y/N), I cannot say it more plainly than that.”
You just nod, throat tight as a tear trickles down your cheek. Before you can move to wipe it away, Joseph reaches up, gathering the droplet on the pad of his thumb.
“Do not cry, my love. Please. It terrifies me to ask it, but I know I must,” he sighs, wiping the tear away, “do you think you could ever love me like I love you?”
“I already do.”
Joseph’s mouth drops open in shock, his hands flying to yours again. “You do?”
You nod again, letting out a choked gasp of elation as you smile, eyes sparkling with tears. You have never, ever felt joy like this before, to know that you are loved and that you truly love him back. This is what you had been waiting for.
Joseph beams up at you, his own tears trailing down his cheeks. “God, my love, I am so happy, I could kiss you right now.”
“Go on, then.”
He reaches up and cradles the back of your head in his hands, rising further up on his knees to meet your lips. Yours meet his, and, just like that day in the library, surrounded by a cloud of dust and desperation, sparks fly. 
This kiss is equally desperate, but for entirely different reasons. All those weeks ago, you were desperate for a distraction, a way out from the suffocating environment you had been reared to endure. Now, you are desperate to make up for lost time and desperate to begin your future. 
Joseph pulls away breathlessly, letting his fingers toy with the hair at the nape of your neck as he smiles up at you.
“I wish we had had more time today at the shops...now seems like the perfect time to give you the gift I bought, but it will not be ready until tomorrow.”
“So I was right to be curious, then?” you tease, laughing when Joseph blushes, “that’s okay, Joseph. I can give you mine.”
You shift to retrieve the velvet box from your pocket, holding it out as he rises from the floor to sit next to you on the couch again, much closer this time. His knee rests against yours as he gingerly accepts the gift, untying the ribbon, which he immediately hands to you, and opening the velvet box to reveal the two silver pens inside.
“These are beautiful, (Y/N),” he breathes out, “simply stunning. But why…”
“I bought them because I had planned on asking you to write to me when you left for America...I guess it does not make much sense now.” 
He takes your hands softly in his, squeezing them. “Even if I wake up by your side each morning, and we are never a day apart, I shall still write you love letters every day, my love.”
That makes you beam all over again, your cheeks beginning to hurt from how much you have been smiling. Joseph carefully ties the white ribbon around your wrist, pulling the ends into a beautiful bow.
“So is it a yes?”
“What?”
“You have told me that you love me, (Y/N), a statement I am elated beyond words about, but you have not actually accepted my proposal of marriage.”
This moment had been so perfect, but now it comes flooding in: the panic. You had been so hesitant to commit to marriage with Gwilym, your childhood friend, a man you have known for many years, and a dear friend. Can you really say yes to a lifetime with Joseph, the brash, adventurous American you have known for less than four months? Is that fair to your family?
Joseph’s hazel eyes sparkle at you, brimming with warmth and hope, as his thumb gently strokes the back of your hand. You know that every fiber of your being should be screaming at you to pull away, to ask for time to think and clear your head, to think logically about this. But you know that even if you do, you would still end up with the same answer. 
Maybe it isn’t fair to those behind in Ashwick Heath, but this is your life. These few weeks travelling have opened your heart and mind to the possibilities that await you, and you finally feel the weight of anxiety lift from your heart, a lightness you have not felt in months. Around Joseph, your worries evaporate like dew in the first beams of morning sunshine. 
“I will.”
Joseph surges forward again, letting out a little moan of happiness as he captures your lips with his. He caresses your cheeks in his hands, the thumbs resting on your cheekbones, stroking softly. 
“Then you have made me happier than I ever thought possible.”
The two of you sit there for a moment, foreheads touching, basking in the glow of each other’s love. Your eyes flutter closed and you smile, feeling a buttery warmth spread through your whole body. Finally, finally. This is what you have been yearning for.
“Sweetheart...oh, it feels so good to call you that,” Joseph breathes out, still cradling your face, “sweetheart, what are we going to do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are we going to go back to England?”
You pull away, not angry but surprised by his question. “I...why wouldn’t we?”
He looks back at you with a matching expression of bewilderment, “Because your parents might send the county sheriff after me? If we return from this trip engaged, vicious rumors are sure to fly about all kinds of indecent things. I would never want your reputation to be damaged so.”
“And eloping to America would maintain my angelic image?” you laugh, shaking your head. “Joseph, we have to. It is only fair to our families that we do so.”
He nods, still wary. “But what are we going to tell Gwilym?”
“The truth, I suppose,” you sigh, “I care so deeply for him, but I was lying to myself for months, willing myself to find love where there was only friendship. He has to understand.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Gwilym has told me many times that all he wants is my happiness. He may be heartbroken, but he will understand,” you smile at your fiance, taking his hand in yours. How good it feels to call him that.
The two of you talk long into the evening, coming up with a plan of action for the next few days. How you are going to tell Rami and Lucy. How you are going to maintain separate rooms and cabins on the return journey, as is proper. How, upon arrival in Ashwick Heath, Joseph is to go speak with your parents and you are to visit Gwilym at Moorhead Park. When you both are satisfied and feel appropriately prepared, you bid Joseph farewell, giving him another lingering kiss.
“I think I shall enjoy doing that every day,” you whisper, your breath ghosting over his pink lips, still parted.
“Every second of every day, my love,” he murmurs, stealing a peck before taking your hand in his, walking you to your bedroom door. “I suppose we can both sleep in tomorrow, considering we are leaving at noon. Nothing to do but go back to England.”
You smile at him slyly, shaking your head. 
“As lovely as that sounds, darling, I shan’t be indulging in extra sleep tomorrow.”
Joseph returns your grin, flashing his brilliant white teeth. “Oh? And why not?”
“I have one last thing to buy.”
~~~~~~~~~
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kaiorsomething · 4 years
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FICS REVIEW / RECOMMENDATION
Hey everyone, Bonjour à tous.tes,
So as I promised yesterday, here’s a bunch of erasermight fictions that I read past three days, and that I think deserved to be read cause god, they're so good. Little warning that I’m french, therefore my english won’t be the best you’ve seen... but you’ll excuse, I hope. Anyway, here we go! Comme promis hier, voilà quelques fanfictions erasermight que j’ai lu durant les trois derniers jours, et qui je pense méritent d’être lues car elles sont vraiment bonnes. Je vous préviens juste que je suis française, donc mon anglais ne sera pas le meilleur que vous ayez lu... mais vous m’excuserez, j’espère. Bref, c’est parti!
Newsflash : All Might, Eraserhead Team Up! by Demyrie, rated E, 14 chapters, finished  : That’s the latest fic I read (I finished it reaaaaaally early this morning), and dear God, that fic purely is dope!! In my opinion, the fic really respects the characters, their personnality, and besides that, the fic’s really funny, sometimes sad, even angst too, which is why I’d like to thank the author for producing such a good work. Talented, for sure! Just be aware that some chapters could be  distressing, so don’t forget to read the fic’s tags and sum up, and this done, enjoy it! And, before I forget, Opalsong made it a podfic, so if you’re lazy to read it, you can listen it (and she reads it so well!!) C’est la dernière fanfiction que j’ai lue (je l’ai finie très tôt ce matin), et mon dieu que cette fanfiction est géniale! Pour moi, la fic respecte vraiment les personnages, leurs caractères, et au-delà de ça, elle est vraiment drôle, parfois triste voire angst, et c’est pourquoi j’aimerais remercier son auteur.trice d’avoir écrit quelque chose d’aussi bon. Iel a du talent, c’est sûr! Cependant certains chapitres peuvent être assez angoissants, donc n’oubliez pas de lire les tags de la fic ainsi que son résumé, et une fois cela fait, profitez! Et, avant que j’oublie, Opalsong en a fait une podfic, donc si vous avez la flemme de lire, vous pouvez toujours l’écouter (et elle la lit vraiment bien!!) Link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/12723888/chapters/29016324 // podfic : https://archiveofourown.org/works/21909946: 
A brief misunderstanding by Rremiel, rated E, 3 chapters, finished : This fic is really cute, and somehow funny, ‘cause you know, Eraser always end up drunk in All Might’s arms, so I won’t say anything more, just go read it, it’s actually one of my fav :p Cette fic est vraiment mignonne, et quelque part, drôle, parce qu’en gros, Eraser finit toujours bourré dans les bras d’All Might... donc j’en dirai pas plus, allez juste la lire, c’est une de mes préférées :p  Link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/21220628/chapters/50521718
“Experts’ in love by N_Scribe, rated E, 4 chapters, unfinished : The potential of this fic!!! Like there’re only 4 chapters for now, but dammit, I’m waiting for the next chapters so hard!! Basically, Aizawa and Yagi are married for 1 year by some experts supposed to find people their best match... if that’s not an appealing plot, what is it then? Le potentiel de cette ifc!!! Y’a que quatre chapitres pour le moment, mais purée, j’attends la suite avec tellement d’impatience!!! Pour faire court, Aizawa et Yagi sont mariés pendant 1 an par des experts en la matière, qui sont supposés trouver votre meilleur match... si ça c’est pas un plot qui régale, qu’est-ce que c’est alors? Link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/17301605/chapters/40693958
Anila's NSFW Twitfics, by diemarysues, 52 OS rated E : So those ones are a bit different, ‘cause it gathers 52 one shots (mostly erasermight, but I remembered there’s like 1 erasermic), all rated E for some good reasons... I let you discover the whole work by yourselves (and maybe tell me which one was your fav!!) Bon, celles-là sont un peu différentes, parce qu’en gros, ce sont 52 one-shots (orientés erasermight, mais je crois qu’il y en a une erasermic), tous rated E pour de bonnes raisons... Je vous laisse découvrir l’oeuvre complète par vous-mêmes (et peut-être me direz-vous laquelle a été votre préférée!!). Link : https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593055
The body is a safeless place if you do not know it's name by completist, rated M, OS : The first erasermight I read!! So, you know, it’s a bit special for my nostalgic ass... the fic was written for Yagi’s birthday, and this is honestly so cute, please go read it, it’s a very relaxed read :)!! Le premier erasermight que j’ai lu!! Du coup, voilà, elle est un peu spéciale pour moi, grande nostalgique... Elle a été écrite pour l’anniversaire de Yagi, et honnêtement, c’est si mignon, donc allez la lire, c’est une fic super relaxante :)!! Link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24646267
So here we are. I could have give you more fics, but the post’s already so long, and I’m not even sure someone’s gonna read it lol, but anyway. Please don’t forget, if you liked one of them, to leave a kudo or even a comment, ‘cause authors deserve to be encouraged, to be loved, so don’t ever hesitate to show them you liked their work!! If this post get some “”hype””, I’ll make another one with other fics to read, maybe not only bnha fics, but also Johnlock (BBC Sherlock), or Tenrose (2005 Doctor Who), idk. Thanks for reading anyway, and enjoy! Donc nous y voilà. J’aurais pu vous mettre plus de fics, mais le post est déjà long, et je suis même pas sûre que quelqu’un le lira lol, mais peu importe. D’ailleurs, n’oubliez pas que si vous avez aimé une des fics, vous pouvez y laisser un kudo ou un commentaire, car les auteurs.trices méritent d’être encouragé.e.s, d’être aimé.e.s, donc n’hésitez jamais à montrer que vous avez aimé leur travail!! Si ce post acquiert un peu de “hype”, j’en ferai un autre avec d’autres fics, peut-être même pas seulement des fics de mha, mais aussi des fics Johnlock (Sherlock BBC), voire Tenrose (Doctor Who 2005). Merci d’avoir lu! 
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stellar-imagines · 4 years
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FALL SPECIAL: ❝I had an amazing idea for a Halloween costume but it requires two people, can you please be the other person?❞
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[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Kirishima Eijirou ]
「#2 ❝ I had an amazing idea for a Halloween costume but it requires two people, can you please be the other person? ❞ with Kirishima Eijirou.」
KIRISHIMA EIJIROU
As summer ends and autumn beckons, the colours of the leaves slowly transform into vivid shades of red, yellow and orange. Autumn in Japan was the same like in any other country. There were colorful autumn leaves that draw people in just like the cherry blossoms do during the Spring. When you walked along the streets, you could see all these changes, people were dressed in a completely different type of attire, something much more suitable for this time of year. Those were the most prominent things but when it comes to Autumn, it wasn't only about the changing of leaves and the seasonal food. But it was also about Halloween.
A trending event in Japan. House parties are not that common since the places you live in are quite average and often cannot accommodate a huge amount of people at a time. Outside is where most celebrations take place. But when you moved to the dorms, it changed. You were all allowed to throw a party for yourselves as long as you don't disturb anyone. That was what your homeroom teacher, Aizawa said. But you assumed that he didn't want any of you to ruin his sleep.
Each and everyone one of you had come together to discuss about what kind of party you wanted to have in the dorms. Something not to grand but a more friendly party where everyone gets together, watch a movie and eat good food. Then again, Halloween was all about costumes, trick or treating and scary movies. And that was exactly what you all had decided on for the party. So the party had all of those. A movie that everyone agreed on watching in the common area, Halloween treats that were handmade. There were cookies that you baked with the girls, pizza that you all decided on getting. Not to mention, candy and chocolate. 
As it was a party just for your class, there was no need for decorations. You helped the girls clean up the kitchen and set up the table before returning to your own room. You didn't exactly have a costume in mind and you were 100% sure that there will be a few people who would show up with no costume. Of course, you didn't really have to voice it out loud what they were. Most of the girls seemed hyped up about dressing up while you were the only one rummaging your wardrobe for something. While you were pondering on what you should wear, a few knocks gained your attention.
"Eiji?" there stood your red haired boyfriend who had his hands behind his back. You let him in and instead of moving to sit at your bed like he normally does, he stood at the door. A tilt of your head indicated your confusion.
"What's up?"
“I had an amazing idea for a Halloween costume but it requires two people, can you please be the other person?” he suddenly blurted out, showing what he had been hiding behind his back the entire time. You took the bag from his hands, peeking into it to see whatever he had prepared. It wasn't easy to tell what it was when it's neatly folded inside.
"You got us both matching costumes?" you gaped, realizing that there was another set of clothes just below one you had pulled out. Kirishima gave you a wide grin before pulling out his own costume from the bag. When you two showed up in costumes that were supposed to complete one another, everyone seemed to notice it as soon as you arrived.
"Oh my god! You guys are wearing matching costumes! So cute!" Ochako squealed as you showed up holding Kirishima's hand as you rubbed the back of your head.
"Kirishima looks more like a puppy than a wolf to me." Kaminari chuckled.
"Hey! I'm the manliest wolf you've ever seen!" Kirishima interjected, lightly hitting the blonde.
Total: 652 words Published: 15.11.2019
Thank you for requesting! *。٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و*。 Had no idea how to do this and decided to wing it, typing whatever came to our minds. Sorry to make you wait for so long, anon! Have a great day though! ― author Hibiki/Lou
Thank you for requesting! The moment this request was sent in and it fits Kirishima so well! It was a bit difficult when we have no idea We hope you liked it, though. ― author Natsuki
Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.
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kaisooficrec · 5 years
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heyyy I hope all the admins are well!! fighting for those of you who got back to school recently :) do you have any new celebrity/model!aus? thank you :)
Hello love, we’re doing well and we hope you are too! good luck to everyone in schools, don’t forget to take care of yourselves and read our recs to de-stress~  we have mostly celeb+model au and some model+non-celeb since we have a separated category for just celebrity au (will rec it next time!) 
celeb + model au:
The World Wants Me + Come Home (To My Heart) - celebrity au. actor kyungsoo is in a secret relationship with model jongin, not just sleeping together. they have to be careful but wish they didn't have to hide it. inspired by our soldier!soo TT + part of we’re collecting moments (tattoos on my mind) collection (with model jongin and actor kyungsoo)
Cosmos - kyungsoo is a pop star in a secret relationship with model jongin. but it’s not a secret when your friend is baekhyun :D
The Fault In Our Stars - college ex-rommates and boyfriends now famous model jongin and actor kyungsoo meet again in a variety show
Polaroids - a short drabble of them disliking each other first during the photoshoot but later kyungsoo fell for jongin
Dreamwalking - they didn’t think they’d ever see each other again after that amazing one night stand. But something keeps bringing them together
Walk on Memories - Famous actor Do Kyungsoo suddenly has supermodel Kim Jongin as his love interest in a controversial film and their past spills over the script as heartaches from years ago catch up to the two of them.
photogenic (aka behind the scenes) - Jongin and Sehun model together for Chanyeol and attract attention. They do not really understand the hype, but art is nice, and it brought Kyungsoo into Jongin’s life, so they are content to let it be.
Pose For Me - kyungsoo is a proud boyfriend of the hot, devilishly handsome supermodel jongin but is also very possessive
Come On Home With Me (baby, let it loose) - model/ makeup artist au, lingerie, model!soo, hinted switching kaisoo - the prequel is topkai
The loneliest place to be - friends with benefits au. kyungsoo is a famous author of poet collections, jongin is a successful model. they have no string attached relationship but that soon changes. yall, strange seas has done it again ;;;;;;
model with non-celeb au:
Speachless - food delivery boy kyungsoo runs into jongin a rising hot model 
until thirty - theatre artist!soo and dance major!jongin get accepted to different places across the ocean and have to break up but after many years meet each other again. model jongin
You’re No Angel Either, Baby - smut, femdom!jongin, toys, d/s. jongin is a VS model but the busy schedule puts a strain on their marriage so both decide to spice things up in the bedroom
The mermaid and the chef - kyungsoo is a chef hired by the kims living in a big mansion and has to cook for kim jongin, the famous model in korea. but jongin is not an ordinary human. easy simple writing with enjoyable plot!
Cracked Marble - vampire/werewolf au, model au, gang au, arrange marriage au + also slowburn!!! love me some lovetelit fics ^^  
A breath, a touch - smut but dayummm. jongin is in italy for the gucci shoot and he makes a late night call to kyungsoo, his chef bf *v* dirty talk - like very sweet and naughty one and jongin touching himself :Q_ 
Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls - kyungsoo is enrolled in a studio art class against his wishes. But hey, he might just have to thank Baekhyun for hijacking his class schedule when one of the nude models catches his eye :)) nude model jongin who is also SHYY uwu
Pose For Me - kyungsoo is very possessive of his handsome hot model bf jongin. smut :pp
Enjoy! - Admin J
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minimonojoon · 6 years
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night drive | ksj
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g e n r e: just pure, unadulterated fluff, friends to lovers!au. p a i r i n g: groomsman!seokjin x bridesmaid!reader w o r d s: 3k+ words. s u m m a r y: coming back from your best friends’ wedding, the last thing you’d ever expect is seokjin confessing his love for you.  w a r n i n g s: it can cause cavities, but other than that, none. a / n: this is just 3k words but to me feels like they’ve been 6k and more, lol. Surprisingly, I kinda like the way it came out, so I’m pretty satisfied with it! I really hope you enjoy it, because I put all myself into it despite its shortness - well, it’s technically a long drabble.. but still. An huge, big, fat shout out to @kyut-tea for bearing with me and hyping me up so much these past days. She’s an angel and she deserves the world, truly. Go read her fics! <3 
This, so far, has been one of the best nights of your entire life.
As predictable as it might sound, the dearest memories you jealousy custody in your heart can be counted in just one hand, and your best friend’s wedding definitely gained a place right there. 
You couldn’t ask anything better for a night to end like this, the crisp air of the late night coming from the window of the black pick-up brushing your hair and kissing your warm skin. It’s like a damn movie scene, one from the comedies about life, love and transition phases, which philosophical quotes everyone on the internet post about and (guilty from hair to foot) you so dearly love.
The content smile on your face slowly surfaces as you outstretch your arm out, feeling the chilly air passing through your fingers and caressing the wind like you’d do with waves in the sea. Fighting the tiredness that threatens your eyelids to close, you recollect the memories of the evening with a soft chuckle, as the loud cheering and the embarrassing chants to celebrate the newly married birds you’ve sing till your voice croaked reverberates in your ears, the tingling of glasses whenever someone proposed a toast – which where many, much to your dismay for your current state of inebriation.
You stifle a laugh, remembering how Taehyung broke an entire bottle of champagne treating the main table where he and Jimin sat like a ship ready to sail. Brushing your morbid lilac dress still sticky with gold liquid, you can’t stop thinking how good you feel.
“Thought you were more the angry type of drunk person, not the crazy one,” Seokjin snorts with a quirk of his eyebrows, as he checks the route in rearview mirror before he overtakes one of the few cars you’ve encountered so far. His eyes are focused solely on the street, but you don’t miss the way his eyes tingles with mischievous amusement.
“I think throwing Friskies at people because they don’t agree with you can be classified as both angry and crazy drunk type of person,” you retort with a smirk on your face, your habits as a drunken person quite well illustrated as stories to embarrass you by your small group of friends. “But in this case, I was just thinking about Taehyung improvising himself some kind of authority ready to inaugurate some ship, like it’s 1912 or something,” you emulate his gesture of breaking the bottle with a very much crazy look in your face, teeth exposed in Taehyung’s typical wide, boxy smile.
“That little shit almost dirtied my clothes,” Seokjin tsks, “sometimes I think he likes to copy Namjoon too much.”
“Nah,” you retort, pointed finger up as an elementary teacher correcting his students, “he just follows whatever Jungkook does. And Jungkook loves imitating Namjoon.” Your laugh erupts inside the car, as well as Seokjin’s, thinking how the youngest of your group have unconsciously chosen the blondeish boy as his guru for life. What a dismay for him, but such a source of amusement for you.
“Can’t believe he’s married now,” Seokjin sighs, as you mold your body to the seat, searching for warmth and comfort. “With Jimin, of all the people,” you shake your head this time, sharing a knowing look with him.
“Could you ever imagine?” He jokes.
Jimin and Taehyung are like day and night. Opposite to each other, yet without the other time wouldn’t be the same, nor the sky would shine bright as it does now. They literally illuminate the whole room with their love whenever they’re around and not in a sicky lovey-dovey style. Although their bickering has always been both frustrating and exhilarating – more one than the other, to your opinion – the love and support they give each other is something that makes you both envious and ecstatic at the same time.  
Smiling bittersweetly, you mentally count all the times your relationships have miserably failed. Out of love, misunderstandings, different plans for the future were some of the reasons you knew, deep down, where just mere excuses for fleeing yourself from what ended up being just distractions whenever you realize the excitement of meeting a new person vanished like a camp fire.
You’ve never looked at one of your lovers with the same passion and adoration Taehyung does whenever he sees Jimin dancing on stage or in class, when he’s teaching new choreography to his students. That look has always been reserved to one person only and right now he’s sitting next to you, driving yourselves home.
Seokjin’s big dark eyes glint in the night, illuminated by the faints lights of the car’s controls in front of him, the first buttons of his white cottoned shirt loosen and his hair still damp from the previous dancing. You can’t help thinking about how effortlessly gorgeous he is and how you seem to be unable to pry your eyes from his form before he realizing you’re observing him.
Despite being friends since college years, having someone else handling with you the volcanoes that were Jimin and Taehyung was much of a relief, especially when the two of you formed a great team to balance your student, social and jimyung life (the nickname is cringy and creepy, yet Seokjin found it extremely amusing when he created it and you, always the soft heart, just let him pass with this one). Yes, to most of the people out there you might sound crazy, yet Taehyung has always been there for you and you know he will always be. And you’re no less, even if it means holding his hand while he’s crying because Jimin said he didn’t like fluorescent turquoise as their bathroom painting color, while Seokjin was comforting Jimin in the other room.
It’s a cycle that always repeats itself, really. You’re sure you wouldn’t survive this alone if Seokjin wasn’t there with you.
“Are you just admiring how the moonlight shine on my flawless handsome face?”
Your cheeks heat up immediately at his teasing, your heart thunders inside your chest because in his cocky and confident remark he’s right. You dismiss your current turmoil with a scoff, rolling your eyes to the ceiling. “I was just noticing how disgustingly sweaty you are,” it’s a big, damn lie yet your grimace seems prettily convincing with how Seokjin’s mouth opens, offended to the heart.
“I went to the bathroom before leaving!” he whines, pursing his lips as you try to hide the giggle that threatens to erupt from your mouth. As a revenge, his hand reaches your tight and squeezes the supple flesh right where your tight meets with your knee. He perfectly knows it’s one of your weak points, because it has you squeaking and jolting in your seat, hitting the dashboard of the pick-up. You flinch from the pain, while Seokjin’s booming and hiccupping laugh fills the although silent vehicle.
Now it’s your turn to be theatrically offended, as you massage the aching point.
“Don’t look at me like that! It’s not my fault karma’s a bitch,” he smirks, but his hand travels upon yours until he manages to be the one massaging your sore point with carefulness, gently pressuring your flesh until you melt into a puddle. You force yourself out of certain thoughts, diverting your gaze elsewhere as you let him do whatever he wants. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until he moves his hand, searching for yours.
You’re puzzled, speechless when he squeezes your intertwined fingers and you look at him with your mouth opened, while a whirlwind of emotions is currently making your brain completely blank. You stay there, frozen as you follow him with your eyes when he delicately presses kisses on your skin, a faint smile on his features. You can feel his warm breath hitting the back of your hand, goosebumps appearing everywhere. The banter you two were having just seconds ago is now just plain silence.
It’s the intimacy in his gestures that has shivers running down your spine, taken aback by something only your wild imagination could have ever conjured. His casualness he puts in just few movements has the power of making your stomach doing somersaults, the butterflies returning like a tornado unannounced. Partially, you fear them. It always takes your full willpower to not let your feelings for him overwhelm you and trashing years of friendship into the toilet, even when you share moments like this one happening now. For the other part, you hate them. It’s the limbo you find yourself into, the rejection angling right over your head threatening to fall yet the strong desire to just go and kiss him already which constantly clutches your brain and confuses you.
You hear the thump thump thump of your heart in your ears and the trepidation that surges in your veins is like iced water, thinking he might hear it too. However, you remain in silent state as your hands are still interlaced. You’re not sure what to do next as you are unsure on what hell of a meaning you should give to all of this. After all, you’ve always been the best friend of his best friend’s boyfriend. Sharing awkward situations and couple crisis is nothing so important. Seokjin is a catch. You remember girls being head over hills for him, always surrounding the guy whenever he went. He’s a charmer. You’re just… you. A friend, a confidant sometimes. It’s not right for the both of you doing this. It’s intimate.
As you try to untangle your hands to both free yourselves, Seokjin squeezes harder to stop you. You can feel his muscles stiff under your touch and suddenly this feeling of urge coming from him you can’t quite decipher.
“I was thinking,” he says hurriedly, before clearing his throat, “I was thinking how everything could be if we were together.” There’s a bit of silence. “I mean, as boyfriend and girlfriend.” He clarifies. You miss the way he bites his lips out of nervousness, because you’re damn shocked.
What did he just say now?
Your mouth agapes like a fish out of water and your brain has a sudden malfunction before you actually register what just came out of Seokjin’s fully plump lips. It has your eyelashes battle furiously, while you try to wrack your brain on why he has just asked this. He must sense your confusion and your shock, because he laughs, but it’s not a wholehearted laugh. It’s more like it’s forced, nervous. Like he’s trying to hide dust under the carpet hoping no one would see him.
“What, you’ve never thought about us?” his tone is light, as if he’s asking you about the weather today.
He has? It’s the only coherent question that pops in your mind. You don’t know what to say.
“I-I..” Your brain reels while you try to come up with an answer, which inevitably doesn’t come out. You’d have expected anything – from one of his infamous dad jokes thrown here and there more often than not, to some useless fact he heard from Namjoon to start a conversation. Certainly, not this.
“Does the idea has never crossed your mind? Am I that repulsive?” This time, the hurt in his tone does not go unnoticed.
“No! You’re not,” your haste response is quick, frowning as he might be thinking something like that. You glare at him from the corner of your eye. “It’s just… you took me by surprise,” you sheepishly admit, tangling one of your fingers in your hair. Seokjin nods, probably coming to the terms he might has just thrown off a bomb without thinking. He just doesn’t know it has nuclear proportion.
The thick silence afterwards is tense, to the point it can be cut with a knife. You don’t dare to meet his eyes, focusing on the road instead, as he drives. The humming of the pick-up becomes your blanket for a while, shielding your thoughts from hunting you with question unanswered. But soon, the noise became too loud. So you have to ask.
“What would have changed?” You turn your head to him, as you catch the jolt in his shoulders, like he wasn’t expecting you to say something. But he’s quick on catching on and the answer is on the tip of his tongue before you can battle an eyelash.
“Nothing,” he confesses, “it wouldn’t have change nothing much.”
“Why is that?”
He snorts at your question. “We pretty much have everything there,” he says as the most obvious thing in the world. He gulps, then he continues. “You’ve always been there. When I struggled with assignments back in college, or when I freaked out because I thought no one would want to hire me right after graduation,” he recalls, shaking his head. Seokjin has always been the confident one, leading his way with his chin up and a beautiful, charming smile on his face, yet seeing him so downcast was a first. You were sure you had done an awful job trying to cheer him up. “Or whenever Taehyung and Jimin fought. Damn, that one time we went skiing? If it wasn’t for you, I would have lost my shit.” True to his words, the only thing you recall affectionately were the two of you in a random café drinking hot cocoa and laughing at stupid jokes he threw here and there, far from your very stressing friends. You smile fondly, your eyes landing on your hands. You didn’t even notice that you start fidgeting with them.
“Today, tonight… would have been the same. Driving back home, drunk but happy because, god, our best friend finally married. I’d have hold your hand just like I did, probably mocking you because you were so naïve shielding me from that bottle of champagne. But I’d be grateful to you to no end, because this suit costed like half of my salary and I didn’t want it to be ruined. So, I’d say that I love you so, so fucking much.” He finishes with shuddering breaths, like he has just run a whole marathon. His words sound too much like a real confession and you can’t move, can’t breathe as you watch him with eyes full of tears, ready to spill them.
“Pull over,” you say finally. Seokjin starts to panic, looking frantically between you and the street.
“What? Why? It’s late and we’re in the middle of no—”
“Just do it!” you huff exasperatedly and Seokjin can’t do nothing but silently comply your request, stopping the car at the first improvised parked lot he finds. When the engine is turned off, you turn to him the same moment he does, and you notice how his shoulder are stiff and his body weary, as if he’s scared you can run off that same moment.
“You can’t do this.” You gulp, trying to force yourself to a steady tone. It’s fruitless. Your voice quivers and your lips tremble, so you take a deep breath to compose yourself. Seokjin looks puzzled, confused and scared.
“You can’t talk about ifs and maybes. You can’t say we have everything there, Kim Seokjin. How dare you? How dare you built a castle like it’s nothing to you, saying these things? You sure are something, huh? You’re always been a little dense, but I’d never thought it was so serious.” The frantic movements of your hands have Seokjin’s eyes to widen, as you sputter all those words. Angry, exasperated, you’re not sure anymore. “I don’t let you say those things when I do seriously love you, sounding so serious about—”
You don’t get to finish, because Seokjin’s mouth collides with yours, shutting down your little rant.
Breath hitched and eyes widened, you’re motionless. His lips are plump and soft as you’ve always imagined them to be, pressing gently to yours. He cups your face with his hands, brushing his thumbs on your cheeks with loving strokes. You finally close your eyes, letting yourself enjoy his touch as he finally moves slowly his plush lips onto yours. The kiss has your head to start spinning, clutching to the collar of his shirt as his cologne mixed with sweat and alcohol flare your nostrils, making you dizzy. You’ve never been this close to Seokjin in your life, yet this proximity has you already addicted, skin tingling as your pads brush his neck, fingers silently tangling in his dark locks. You feel his hands travelling from your cheeks to your back, pressing you closely to him, his toned arms surrounding you. You feel like you’ve found home after years of hopelessly wandering and you’re sure your heart is going to explode, because you can feel it thundering everywhere in your body.
As the pace of the kiss quickens, Seokjin’s tongue caressing your lower lip gently to enter your mouth, you feel your skin slowly heating up. You tug his hair, eliciting a moan from him that has you growing goosebumps. Time seems to come to a full stop, yet you feel like the fast forward button has been pushed, because the moment you face yourself you want to kiss him again.
You press your forehead on Seokjin’s, as your elaborated breaths are the only sound in the although quiet pick-up. “So, to answer you question, Kim Seokjin,” you begin, whispering, “I do have thought about things going differently.” You finally admit and Seokjin simply smirks, closing his eyes. He pecks your lips before distancing himself, looking at you with a fond smile on his face.
“If that’s so, ___, maybe we can both agree that from now on, things can really go differently.” He solemnly speaks. You nod, stifling a laugh. “I think so, yeah.”
You both fasten your seatbelts then, and Seokjin starts the engine to re-enter the roadway as everything goes back to normal. But it’s not entirely true, not anymore at least. The smile on your faces and your interlaced fingers proves that. You stay like this for the most part of your trip, even when you finally succumb to sleep.
You won’t let go his hand so easily.
And neither will he.
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