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mysafehaneul · 9 months

Text

III.AQUAMARINE

JEON WONWOO X READER

WORDS: 11K+

GENRE: ARRANGE CONTRACT MARRIAGE AU! ENEMIES TO LOVERS!

ANGST, (obviously lol), Fluff, Smut (in future chapters not this one).

This is my original work for free consumption because fuck capitalism but please do not steal it. All characters are original except The members of Seventeen, I do not own them. This is purely a work of fiction with no similarity with real life whatsoever, If any incident feels familiar, That is purely a coincidence. Please drop your feedback as it helps me feel motivated and improve. Happy Reading!

Previously On:

Chapter 2

Chapter 3: Ties That Bind

10 years ago

Amidst the soft echoes of "My Happy Ending" by Avril Lavigne drifting through the air, the door to your sanctuary swung open, revealing Noel, the skip in her step mirroring the rhythm of the song. Your room, a canvas of organised chaos, boasted a planning board adorned with colour-coded sticky notes, and your bed was a collage of strewn books. Perched in the right corner, you toyed with the lamp's switch, casting light on the pages of Dan Ariely's wisdom.

The lamp flickered in your hand, and your eyes glanced up to welcome Noella, who promptly flopped onto the bed with enthusiasm matched only by her disregard for the comfort of your books. A wince flickered across her face as the novels' edges dug into her spine, prompting her to readjust her position with an exasperated whine, "I ammmmmmm boreddddddd."

You remained engrossed in your book, barely sparing her a glance. "Then watch TV."

"Already did."

"Workout?"

"Too lazy."

" Homework?"

"I'm not that bored."

An attempt to snatch your book from your grip met your swift evasion, and a glare sent a clear message of personal boundaries. Her pout, however, was unwavering as she growled in frustration, "Argh! I hate midterms. You know, in moments like this, I feel like becoming a white picket fence housewife isn't that bad of an idea."

A chuckle escaped you, teasing. "No one's stopping you. In fact, your father would be more than willing to arrange that for you."

Rolling her eyes in a dramatic fashion, she responded with a healthy dose of sarcasm, "Haha, very funny."

An unspoken understanding danced between your laughter-laden voices, and your I-know-you-know look exchanged effortlessly. But Noella was not done, not by a long shot. With an air of whimsy, she expressed, "I want to marry the person I love, not for some business deal! You know, I want a wedding like, you know, that book Mamma Mia."

You responded with a hum, fully aware of her penchant for planning and envisioning every detail. "You've already planned your entire wedding, haven't you?"

Propping herself on her elbows, she fixed you with a look of pure shock. "You have not."

A shake of your head was your honest reply, and your gaze remained locked on the page, your fingers fidgeting with the edge. "No, I prefer living in reality."

Noella dropped back onto the bed, her gaze transfixed by the ceiling fan. The contemplative air clung to her as she murmured, "Say, Y/N, have you ever been in love?"

A huff escaped your lips, and your fingers are now tapping rhythmically on the page. Tilting your head, you offered her an experimental smile. ''Maybe I don't know."

As though a spark ignited spilled gasoline, Noella's blue eyes glinted with curiosity. "Oh my god, tell me! In a heartbeat, her hand grabbed yours, the book tumbling onto the bed as she leaned in. "Who was it? How did it happen? Do I know them?"

You offered a mischievous grin, your words dripping with playfulness. "I'm not telling you who it is."

The puppy-eyed look she gave you was as predictable as the sunrise. "It happened recently, or is it a past flame? Do I know them?

"Noella," you admonished, "I'm not spilling the beans that easily."

Undeterred, she pouted, "Y/nnn! You sneaky bitch, you're killing me here''.

The chime of her Nokia Ericsson pierced the air, interrupting her sentence. With an apologetic smile, she excused herself to attend to the call. Left to your own devices, you rested your head against the headrest, a sigh escaping your lips, the book momentarily forgotten.

Noella reappeared, her presence leaning against the door frame. "Get ready, loser. Vernon called; he's throwing a party."

A roll of your eyes conveyed your reluctance, and you offered your excuse, "Sorry, boo, I, or rather 'we,' have an assignment due on Tuesday."

"Live a little, will you? Her voice was a coaxing melody, her hands finding your shoulders, her eyes capturing yours in a determined gaze. "What will you tell your kids about your college life? Come on, everyone will be there—Nicole, Adam, Humza, and even Joshua will be there! Even if I go somewhere, he'll be there to accompany you. Please... pwease." She gave her best puppy eyes, coupled with rapid blinking—a formidable combination.

The mention of Joshua's name stirred a subtle tremor in your heart—a rush of memories and emotions quickly masked by a practiced demeanor. "Fine," you relented with feigned annoyance.

Her triumphant giggle filled the air as she danced out of the room, a chorus of "We're going to have so much fun tonight" fading into the distance.

In the wake of her departure, you closed your eyes, feeling the echo of her laughter linger. Emotions danced within you, a complex symphony of moments past and the unknown future. And amidst it all, a single name echoed—an enigma you dared not fully unravel—Joshua. .. It's been a mere 20 minutes since you both stepped into the party, and as every college party goes, bottles and drunks linger in every corner. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol. You found yourself near the pantry, seeking refuge from the chaos that surrounded you. The pounding beats of Kanye West and Usher reverberated in your ears, each note tearing at your eardrums. The scene was a sensory overload, with over-the-top PDA and borderline explicit displays of affection vying for attention on every available surface. Amidst the frenzy, your gaze fixated on a loveseat by the unlit fireplace, two figures locked in what appeared to be a heated exchange of passionate kisses.

A presence sidled up next to you, the intrusion barely registering in your consciousness. Without bothering to look, a casual comment reached your ears: "Are you into exhibitionism? The voice, familiar yet distant, belonged to Jeonghan, Joshua's closest friend. While your interactions with him had never been extensive, there was an ease in your exchanges that allowed for conversation to flow.

Your voice, hidden beneath the veil of loud music, held a subtle quiver as you responded, "What makes you think that? His chuckle was laced with amusement as he took a casual sip of his beer, his eyes dancing mischievously. " You've been staring at Joshua and Noella making out for the last 5 minutes, unblinking, like you're into some peeping Tom shit. He raised his hands in a mock surrender before continuing, "Not that I'm judging—or you're in love with one of them."

Finally tearing your gaze away from the entangled couple, your eyes met Jeonghan's deep brown orbs. The burn of unshed tears stung your eyes, threatening to betray your facade. A sarcastic smile tugged at your lips, a bitter twist to the corners as your Adam's apple bobbed with the ache that had lodged itself there. Your voice wavered, laced with vulnerability, as you spoke, "So what if I am? The arch of your brow matched his curiosity, the traitorous tear breaking free and tracing a glistening path down your cheek. In that moment, you stood exposed, your unspoken emotions laid bare before Jeonghan's shocked gaze.

... ...

Present

In the hushed sanctuary of the dimly lit gym, the air was filled with the subtle scent of iron and the muted thud of sneakers against the rubberized floor. Bathed in the soft glow of ambient lighting, a lean, muscular frame was suspended from a metal bar. The absence of a shirt revealed a canvas of pale skin. Illuminated by the interplay of light and shadow, every sinew and muscle fiber was defined, etched with the story of countless hours spent sculpting this masterpiece.

(A/N: I am literally red in the cheeks as I imagine this.)

The pull-up bar strained slightly under his weight as he effortlessly lifted himself, the raw power of his biceps evident with every fluid motion. The mirror-lined wall before him reflected the dedication etched into his expression. The slight sheen of sweat glistening on his skin was a mark of the exertion. In the mirror's reflection, a sight that seemed almost unreal—a carved landscape of solid abs, chiseled with the precision of an artist's hand—the lines and contours were a testament to the sacrifices made in the pursuit of physical mastery as the light danced upon the ridges and hollows. As he lowered himself, his back muscles flexed with grace, were defined, and were engaged. His breath had a steady rhythm. The pull-ups continued. His reps came to a close when Wonwoo's mind drifted back to a pivotal moment that had transpired merely two days earlier. He remembered the air of reluctance that had clung to the room, heavy with implications and unspoken desires. With each repetition, his thoughts swirled around the upcoming agreement—a binding arrangement that carried both promise and uncertainty.

Lee Chan, his assistant and confidant, stood nearby. His finger danced across his work pad, capturing Wonwoo's directives. Wonwoo spoke with the conviction of a strategist. "Chan," he directed, his words intersecting with the rhythm of his exercise as his muscles tensed and released, "keep a watchful eye on Eleanor. This marriage will be public, and her reaction will need to be managed. Chan nodded. '' As for Y/N in the contract, make sure she understands that I'm not after her shares; I want the 40% ownership of the land."

Chan's eyebrows knitted together in contemplation. "That might not be an easy sell," he responded, a hint of scepticism in his tone.

Wonwoo's lips quirked into a sardonic smile. "She's cornered and desperate. She'll acquiesce to my terms sooner or later."

Another point entered the conversation as Wonwoo continued, his focus never wavering from his repetitions. "I want full control over the construction, material choices, and our engineers leading the project."

Chan let out a resigned sigh. "They have a pre-approved design from the city hall. It won't be easy to sway them to our choices."

Wonwoo, unperturbed, shrugged off the challenge. "Her architects can collaborate with our engineers. It's a compromise."

As the rep count grew, Wonwoo switched his focus. Sitting on a bench, he paused to drink from his water bottle. "Hey, Chan," he began, curiosity tinting his voice, "what do seven-year-olds like?"

Chan's bemusement was evident as he responded, "Well, my job hasn't allowed me to keep up with that particular knowledge, unfortunately."

A chuckle bubbled from Wonwoo's chest, his laughter mingling with the sweat that adorned his body. "That's unfortunate indeed," he mused.

A change in tone ensued as Chan teased, "Shouldn't you be more concerned about breaking the news to your parents that you'll be married in less than a week?"

Wonwoo, now reaching for a towel to wipe his face, responded with an air of irony, "Ah, the model son, fulfilling every parental wish. They will be over the moon upon hearing this." As the conversation tapered off, Wonwoo's laughter lingered in the air. As Chan stepped into the corridor, the door to the gym closed behind him, enclosing Wonwoo in a world of his own.

Wonwoo, whose muscles warmed and were invigorated from the exercise, sensed the call of renewal. He strode towards his private bathroom, the sleek glass entrance giving way to a sanctuary adorned with modern elegance. Droplets of water clung to his skin as he stood beneath the refreshing spray, the rivulets chasing away both the physical exertion and the mental intricacies that had accompanied it. ...

Amid the warm embrace of your home office, with your oak shelves adorned with books arranged in the year of their publication order and the soft fragrance of lavender candles enveloping the air, you were immersed in a symphony of words—swift typing echoing your intent. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a gentle glow upon the room as you etched your thoughts onto a digital canvas in the form of an email to Rema, articulating the vital terms that needed inclusion in the contract.

Just as the hum of productivity enveloped you, a cheerful interruption arrived—a video call notification adorned your screen, and your lips curved upward instinctively. The call was from Jeonghan, and your heart fluttered in response to the anticipation that always accompanied his presence. With a simple click, your world expanded as the familiar visages of two individuals graced your laptop screen—one radiating happiness, the other adorned with a slightly pouty demeanour.

''Hi, baby boy,'' you greeted affectionately, your voice a soothing melody.

In response, a spirited wave from one side and an exuberant chorus of ''Helloooooooo'' resounded.

''You're not my baby boy, Jeonghan,'' the older of the two playfully pouted, his expression adorning a playful indignation.

''Why the sad face, baby? What's wrong?'' concern laced your words, your eyes narrowing slightly in worry.

A small pout graced his lips, and with a slight turn of his form, he responded, ''Nothing.''

''Did JJ do something to you?'' you probed gently, a flicker of suspicion entering your tone.

''Hey!'' Jeonghan exclaimed, his voice carrying a hint of defence.

''Someone didn't keep their promise''', Jeonghan filled in the blank. Your heart was attuned to the emotions playing out on the screen before you. ''Are you mad at Tante?'' you ventured, using the affectionate nickname that Noel had bestowed upon you.

Folding his arms and maintaining his faux sulky stance, Noel remained stubbornly silent, his emotions written across his features. The exact copy of his mother, you mused.

Sighing softly, you cast a sideways glance at Jeonghan, silently seeking his aid in mollifying the situation. But, ever the mischievous character, he seemed to relish the leverage he held over you, basking in his unique advantage.

With a mock grimace, you attempted to soothe Noel's spirits. ''How about I bring you the new Iron Man figurine we saw on YouTube?''

His eyes sparkled with renewed interest, and his dejected demeanour began to wane. Before an ever-excited Jeonghan interrupted, ''Oh, oh, Y/n! Y/n! My mother said that before you leave for Switzerland, could you please contact her? She wants to send a few things for Victor and me.''

Playfully rolling your eyes, you couldn't help but quip, ''Am I your free courier service now?''

Conversations flowed, creating a seamless current of inquiries and updates. You touched upon your impending return in ten days, inquiring about the nuances of daily life, the excitement of the first day of school, and the progress of Jeonghan's partner, Victor. A cryptic promise of a surprise hung in the air, a tidbit that piqued Noel's curiosity while Jeonghan playfully insisted on unveiling the secret.

You shared tales, exchanged laughter, and jestingly teased about revealing the surprise—much to Jeonghan's delight and Noel's evident impatience. A final tongue-touched tease, a farewell infused with affection, and a soft ''Bye, baby'' from your lips elicited a gentle ''Bye'' in response. The residue of the interaction lingered in your heart, a soothing balm for the worries and tensions that life invariably brought.

In the heart of your cosy sanctuary, the virtual connection may have faded, but the warmth and fondness it ignited remained etched in your spirit—a reminder that even amidst the most mundane of tasks, a cherished bond could mend even the most delicate of hearts. And for this boy, every ounce of effort, every pain, and every sacrifice was worth it—even if it meant marrying someone who more or less wants to devour one of your life's most important projects.

Leaning back in your chair, you allowed your head to find solace in the rest. Your fingers reached out to grasp your coffee tumbler, the warmth seeping through to your skin as you took a contemplative sip. A soft smile graced your lips as you relished the memory of Rema's reaction—her coffee nearly becoming a casualty of your unexpected revelation. The news that you had managed to secure a husband, none other than the enigmatic Jeon Wonwoo, within the span of a mere seven hours was certainly not something she had anticipated.

You recounted the scene with amusement, the vivid image of Rema sputtering in surprise over her coffee etched in your mind. It was as if the universe had conspired to drop this bombshell into your life, a twist you had never imagined—marrying the very person you were resolute about avoiding, especially under your parents' persistent pressure.

''So, a contract marriage? Rema's incredulous voice echoed in your memory, her disbelief mirrored in her eyes.

''Every marriage is a social contract, Rem,'' you responded, your tone holding a touch of wisdom born from your pragmatic worldview.

''Well, what are you going to tell your parents? Her curiosity was palpable, and you could almost see her eyebrows raised in concern.

You contemplated her question, your mind churning with thoughts as you weighed your options. ''Hmm, I haven't quite figured that out yet. I want to finalise the contract first before I involve my parents. I need to ensure my rational side is fully operational before any emotional tidal wave hits me.''

A burst of laughter bubbled out of you; the image of your mother's hypothetical inquiries was too amusing to ignore. ''I already know the first thing my mother would ask me,'' you shared. '' 'Are you pregnant?' ''

Rema shook her head in a mixture of amusement and exasperation, swiftly reaching for a tissue to mop up the coffee droplets that had landed on her.

''Aren't you just the epitome of decisiveness?'' she quipped, a playful glint in her eyes.

''I wouldn't have reached where I am today if I weren't, babydoll,'' you responded with a cheeky wink, your confidence wrapped in a cloak of humour. ''More work for me, Yipee,'' Rema sighed, her voice teasingly resigned.

...

The towering skyscrapers of the city loomed closer and closer as your car glided through the bustling streets. Your attention was momentarily pulled from the cityscape as you looked down at the file resting on your lap, fingers tapping rhythmically on its spine. Rachel sat next to the driver, engrossed in her own tasks, while Rema sat beside you, both of you reviewing the contract that held the key to your next steps.

The sleek black car smoothly manoeuvred into a private parking route as you approached the high-rise building. The transition from the busy streets to this more controlled environment was palpable. The car's engine purred to a halt, and the door was about to be opened by your driver, but before he could, a figure appeared at your side. Standing at around 170 to 174 cm tall, with an athletic physique and strong brows that hinted at both trustworthiness and experience beyond his years, the man exuded a certain aura of capability.

Your driver was momentarily beaten to opening the door as the man swiftly reached out and performed the task himself. A polite smile touched your lips as you stepped out of the car and met with his introduction. "Good morning, Ms. L/N. I am Lee Chan, Mr. Jeon's assistant."

You acknowledged his introduction with a nod and extended your hand to accept his offered greeting. The firm handshake conveyed both professionalism and a hint of camaraderie. Your associates followed suit, shaking hands with Chan. His eyes flickered over each of you with a sense of quiet assessment before he continued, "Mr. Jeon is waiting for you in his private office. Please, this way, Ms. L/n."

With Chan leading the way, the three of you entered the building. He retrieved a card from his pocket and swiped it to access the elevator. As you rode up to your destination, a subtle exchange between you and Rema took place. A single glance was shared, conveying unspoken thoughts and observations that only close friends could understand.

The elevator's doors smoothly slid open to reveal Wonwoo's private office. Chan stepped aside, gesturing for you to proceed. The next chapter of this intriguing journey was about to unfold.

The office space exuded an air of sophistication and power, with its large windows allowing sunlight to filter in and casting a soft glow on the lavender walls. A line of viper's bowstring hemp plants lined the windowsill, their vibrant green leaves adding a touch of life to the serene environment. A pristine white couch, a matching table, and a sleek chair formed a seating area, contrasting against the emerald green carpet that sprawled across the floor. You couldn't help but think, "I'm definitely not letting him decide the interior."

As you observed the room, your thoughts drifted. His back was turned to you, engrossed in conversation with his lawyer, a man with sharp features yet surprisingly kind eyes and an easy smile. "Is everyone around this guy straight out of a Vogue magazine?" you mused, noticing the effortlessly fashionable aura that seemed to surround him.

But as you entered the scene, your initial unease gave way to determination. A professional smile graced your lips as you addressed him, and you sized him up just as he often did to you. A hint of amusement glinted in his eyes as he mirrored your assessment, a silent exchange of unspoken messages.

His two strides brought him to your side, extending his hand in greeting. You accepted it with a firm shake, your resolve strengthening as you faced the inevitable negotiation. "Welcome, Ms. l/n," he said, his voice carrying a blend of formality and an undercurrent of intrigue. "Please, this way."

The meeting commenced, with both of your teams settling down. Wonwoo introduced you to Dokyeom, his lawyer, and the formalities began. As the lawyers discussed the contract, Chan and Rachel delved into their laptops, ready to alter or add new clauses as needed.

The initial clauses passed with relative ease, but it was clause 4 that sparked the first dispute. Wonwoo expressed his desire through his lawyer for control over the capital for development, citing his experience. You, however, believed in mutual consent, acknowledging his expertise but asserting that the ownership of the oasis remained under your control.

The conversation moved to the heart of the matter—the adoption and marriage clause. As the details were presented, a sense of gravity settled in the room. Rema outlined the terms, including the custody of Noel, from cooperation in the adoption procedure to custody after divorce. Your gaze met Wonwoo's in a silent exchange, challenging each other to accept the terms.

As the discussion progressed, a clause about maintaining separate personal lives and public acts of infidelity emerged. You both locked eyes again, a daring challenge in the air. The tension escalated when Wonwoo boldly proposed that he desired 40% ownership of the land rather than mere profit shares from the resort's success.

Your incredulous laughter broke the room's tension, and you couldn't help but question his audacity. "I beg your pardon," you said, catching everyone off guard. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to you, especially Wonwoo's. Amidst the surprised gazes, he requested a private moment, and the room quickly emptied.

Left alone, you couldn't help but recall the clause he had proposed. Your voice carried controlled authority, masking the fierce intensity of your emotions. "What do you mean by that?" you demanded, a fire sparking in your eyes as you awaited his explanation.

The air crackled with tension, each passing moment intensifying the gravity of the situation. The weight of his audacious demand hung in the space between you, an unspoken challenge that required explanation.

Wonwoo's gaze met yours, and for a fleeting moment, you could sense the undercurrent of surprise in his eyes. It was as if he hadn't expected you to react with such vigour and question his intentions so directly. His lips curved slightly, a hint of that enigmatic smile tugging at the corners as he regarded you with a mix of appraisal and amusement.

As the silence stretched on, you held his gaze, refusing to back down. The seconds ticked away, each heartbeat resonating like the drumming of your own determination. The viper's bowstring plants by the window seemed to lean in, their green leaves capturing the suspended tension in the room.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his response broke the stillness. His voice, a low and measured timbre, carried a hint of intrigue that matched the glint in his eyes. "Ms. l/n," he began, his words deliberate, "I believe in securing a substantial stake in endeavours that I invest in."

His answer, though composed, held a layer of unapologetic honesty. He was not one to mince words, nor was he inclined to sugarcoat his intentions. The room seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, the energy shifting between you like an invisible current.

You leaned forward slightly, your posture conveying a mix of determination and challenge. "Mr. Jeon," your words held a touch of incredulity: "It's clear that you're driven by greed, seeking to secure every possible advantage for yourself. But your audacity to think that I have no option but to accept this, just because it concerns the fate of a child—"

Your voice, initially firm, held a slight tremor as emotions surged within you. Your love for Noel and your unyielding commitment to his well-being fueled your resolve. And in that moment, you found the strength to confront Wonwoo's audacious demands head-on.

His eyebrows arched slightly, his eyes narrowing as if assessing the fire that blazed within you. "And what exactly do you intend to do, Ms. L/N?" he inquired, his tone holding a hint of challenge, a spark that ignited the smouldering embers of your defiance.

Your lips curled into a rueful smile, your eyes locking onto his with unyielding determination. "That's where you're wrong, Mr. Jeon. I don't give up at the face of one close door, because I know there is always another way," you replied, your voice carrying a steady resolve. "I don't believe I have so many shortcomings that I must resort to a man marrying me for what I have rather than for who I am."

The room seemed to hold its breath as your words hung in the air, your stance unwavering as you faced him down. Viper's bowstrings, symbols of strength and resilience, stood tall and steadfast in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

Your fingers tightened around the file on your lap, your nails tapping a rhythm that echoed the steady cadence of your heartbeat. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Jeon," you concluded, your tone carrying a mix of finality and dismissal. "But I now consider our agreement null and void."

The words reverberated through the room, a declaration that marked the turning point of the negotiation. As you rose from your seat, your eyes locked onto his one final time, a silent exchange that spoke volumes. With your head held high, you turned to leave the room. As you were on the verge of leaving, Wonwoo's sudden grip on your hand pulled you to a stop, and before you knew it, your back was pressed against the door, his imposing figure looming over you. The abruptness of the situation caught you off guard, your heartbeat quickening in response to the proximity and intensity of the moment.

His words, delivered in close quarters, held a mix of challenge and something else—perhaps a hint of intrigue. The tension in the room seemed to amplify, with the air growing thick with unspoken emotions. His scent enveloped you, a blend of something distinctly his, and the weight of his presence felt tangible.

Aren't you a stubborn wild cat, huh? His voice was low, a mere whisper that seemed to caress the air between you. His grip on your hand was firm yet not restrictive, almost as if he were testing your limits and your reactions. The spark in his eyes danced with a mixture of amusement and something darker—a challenge laid bare.

Your lips curled into a wry smile, refusing to back down even as your heart raced. "You underestimate my determination, Mr. Jeon," you retorted, your voice steady despite the closeness of your proximity. The playful banter that laced your words seemed to dance in the charged atmosphere.

His response held a trace of surrender, albeit grudgingly. "Fine, have it your way. But know this," he leaned in a fraction closer, his eyes drilling into yours. "While I might not value the 40% shares as much, engineers will be mine, and architects will be yours. But I'll be the one who approves the final design."

(Hey Alexa play Shameless by Camila Cabello)

The terms were set, a balance struck, and at that moment, it was as if the energy between you shifted. You found yourself locked in a silent exchange, your eyes locked onto his as time seemed to momentarily stand still. Noses are nearly brushing, and the electric pull between you is almost tangible. You opened your mouth to respond, to add your own quip to the conversation, but before you could, a knock on the door shattered the intense moment. The spell was broken, and the two of you stepped away from each other.

The place where his fingers had grasped your forearms still tingled, a sensation that seemed to linger even after he released his hold. As the door opened and the interruption brought you back to reality,

Chan's voice cut through the tension. "Is everything alright in here?" he inquired, his eyes shifting between you and Wonwoo. Wonwoo gave a curt nod in response. With the abrupt interruption, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Wonwoo returned to his seat on the couch, a casual demeanour replacing the intensity that had lingered moments ago. His fingers deftly unbuttoned the top button of his suit jacket, and he loosened his necktie ever so slightly. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and the powerful aura that had surrounded him just a moment ago eased into a more relaxed state. The brief pause allowed everyone to regain their composure. The discussion resumed, and each point was dissected, debated, and negotiated for another half an hour.

While Wonwoo and his team provided their input, Your team, equally engaged, presented your counterarguments, ensuring that every clause and detail was thoroughly examined. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of back-and-forth, the consensus was reached. Chan printed out the final contract. The pages, filled with the intricacies of the partnership, awaited your signatures, signifying the culmination of a process that had started with a chance encounter and evolved into this intricate arrangement. With the contract laid out before you, you and Wonwoo picked up the pens and signed your names, sealing the deal. It was a significant step, a commitment that held the potential to shape your futures in ways both anticipated and unforeseen.

As the ink dried on the pages, a sense of accomplishment and finality filled the room. The tension that had simmered throughout the meeting began to dissipate, replaced by a shared understanding of the agreement you had reached. The weight of the decisions made hung in the air, a blend of determination, pragmatism, and a touch of uncertainty.

With the signatures in place, you exchanged a brief, professional nod with Wonwoo. The contract was now a binding agreement, setting the course for the journey ahead.

The meeting concluded, and the tension that had filled the air slowly ebbed away. As you prepared to leave, the private elevator once again carried you down to the parking lot; this time, Wonwoo, accompanied by Chan, came to bid you farewell. The scene felt different now. Wonwoo approached you, and the two of you engaged in a hushed conversation. In the midst of your conversation, Wonwoo's tone took an unexpected turn as he addressed you. Y/N The unfamiliarity of it caught your attention, and you responded with curiosity. ''Yes, Mr. Jeon?'' ''Please call me Wonwoo. It would be weird if my soon-to-be wife called me this formally. a notification that left you momentarily surprised before you agreed. ''Right....''

You were about to take your leave, almost approaching your car, with Rachel and Rema assisted by Chan, already seated while Wonwoo and you were talking, when his voice stopped you in your tracks. He reached for your hand with a cautious yet determined gesture. He glanced up, seeking silent permission, which you granted with a nod, his touch sending a tingling sensation through your skin. His fingers traced your knuckles as he spoke. His work was laced with a hint of hesitation. ''I apologise for my behaviour back in the meeting room, and I want to give you something. Wonwoo's hand gravitated to his coat pocket, retrieving a treasure trove concealed within royal blue velvet. The box was unveiled. Inside lay a revelation—a dazzling marvel that captured both the essence of his intentions and the enigma of his sentiments. A gasp, soft as the fluttering of a butterfly's wings, escaped your lips as the lid surrendered to your gaze, unveiling a precious secret encased in a velvety cradle.

Emerging from the depths of the velvet like a precious secret, the ring glimmered under the soft ambient light. A magnificent aquamarine, with a hue reminiscent of cerulean seas kissed by the first light of dawn, took centre stage. The gemstone possessed an almost mythical quality, as if it held within its crystalline depths the stories of ages past and the promises of futures yet to unfold.

The aquamarine, a robust 20 carats in weight, bore a rare and enchanting leaf shape. Its contours curved with an elegance that mirrored the delicate veins of an intricately designed leaf, each facet capturing and refracting light with a mesmerising dance of colors. As your gaze traversed its surface, you could almost sense the tranquilly of distant oceans, the whispering breeze through verdant foliage, and the serenity of untouched realms.

Nestled within the heart of this radiant gemstone was an exquisite diamond, seemingly suspended in time and space. The diamond's brilliance was a testament to its purity, its fiery facets contrasting beautifully against the calm serenity of the aquamarine. The union of these two precious stones created a harmonious equilibrium, a metaphor for the delicate balance between strength and vulnerability, passion and tranquilly.

The aquamarine and diamond duo was cradled within a band of gleaming gold, a testament to enduring commitment and unwavering unity. The warm and lustrous gold embraced the gemstones with a gentle touch, as if it understood the significance of the emotions woven into this remarkable piece of art.

As you admired the ring, its significance became clear. Beyond the brilliance of the gemstones and the artistry of the design, it held a narrative of its own. It was a token of understanding, an offering of reconciliation, and an expression of a promise that defied the boundaries of words. The ring was not merely a decoration; it was a bridge connecting hearts, a symbol of a journey shared, and a harbinger of the future's uncharted wonders. Wonwoo delicately retrieved the ring from its resting place. With a sense of purpose and reverence, Wonwoo's fingers gently guided the ring onto your waiting finger. To your surprise and amazement, the ring glided onto its designated spot as though fate had conspired to ensure its perfect fit. It was as if the ring had always been meant for this very moment. Bending forward, he pressed a gentle kiss to the finger that now cradled his grandmother's ring, an heirloom infused with memories and generations of love. In that tender and intimate moment, you became aware of the eyes upon you, witnesses to a scene that bore the weight of significance. The subtle click of a camera shutter seemed to punctuate the air, capturing the essence of the moment in a frozen frame. Raising your hand to eye level, you observed the ring from every angle, marvelling at the intricate details that adorned it. The craftsmanship was undeniable, a testament to the skill and dedication of artisans from a different era. The ring felt weighty with history, as if it had borne witness to decades of stories, celebrations, and moments of love. ''What exceptional craftsmanship; it must be more than 80 years old. Your words of appreciation were genuine, spoken not just to please Wonwoo but to acknowledge the inherent beauty of the heirloom that now graced your finger.

Unbeknownst to you, Wonwoo's surprise at your approval stemmed from a memory that resurfaced—a memory of Eleanor's disdain for the ring's vintage charm. Her words about designing her own engagement ring echoed in his mind, a stark contrast to the genuine admiration you now express.

"Thank you," you continued, your voice carrying a sincere tone. "I'll treasure it and ensure it's well cared for. When the time comes, I'll return it to you, as per our agreement." Wonwoo nodded, his attention fully drawn back to the present moment.

As your car glided away, disappearing into the distance, Wonwoo turned to Chan, a sense of satisfaction evident in his demeanor. "Did we get the shot?" he inquired, his voice carrying a mixture of anticipation and assurance.

Chan nodded affirmatively. "Yes, we did." A satisfied smile tugged at the corner of Wonwoo's lips. "Good. Let's release it then. Lessen's the hassle of letting everyone know yourself."

...

The mansion's grand entrance seemed to welcome you with open arms—a sanctuary of familiarity. However, before you could fully absorb its warmth, your phone's shrill ring shattered the tranquility. Shock radiated through you as your mother's name lit up the screen. Suppressing the panic, you hastily silenced the call and composed yourself to enter the living area.

Inside, your mother's agitated pacing drew your attention, her phone clutched tightly in her hand, while your father's calm demeanour seemed to offer a stark contrast. Their exchange was a silent symphony of tension, a conversation spoken through glances and unspoken words. You entered cautiously, your gaze connecting with your mother's as she turned and faced you, her expression a mix of disbelief and frustration.

She thrust her phone towards you, her voice laden with incredulity. "What is the meaning of this?"

You took a deep breath, your resolve unwavering despite her evident shock. "Wonwoo and I have decided to get married," you stated, meeting her eyes with a sense of certainty.

Her features contorted in a mix of emotions, and she spluttered, searching for words. "But… why? Have you thought this through? You both just met, like a week ago. I know we wanted this, but This isn't a decision to be taken lightly. She paused for a moment and said, ''Wait, you're not pregnant? There was a long pause, and you looked exasperatedly at your mother's predictability. ''Are you?'' ''No Mama!'' You held your ground; your voice was measured but resolute. ''I just really like Wonwoo, and I believe this is the right choice for me."

Your father, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up. "Are you sure about this, Y/N? We've been the ones pushing you into this arrangement, but you shouldn't feel pressured. Take your time to get to know each other."

His words resonated, and you appreciated his concern. Meeting his gaze, you nodded. "Dad, I understand your concern. But I want you both to know that this decision is mine, and I'm willingly entering into it. Wonwoo and I have had conversations, and we've reached an understanding. I believe that with time, we can build something meaningful together." He nodded, his features softening. "I trust your judgement, Y/N. Just remember, we're here for you every step of the way. If you ever have any doubts or concerns, don't hesitate to share them with us." A genuine smile curled your lips as you felt the weight of their support as you walked towards your room.

... ...

Amidst the lush haven of the Jeon family garden, a symphony of colours and scents painted the scene. Flowers of all hues danced in harmony, while the gentle breeze rustled the leaves of tall, graceful trees. The garden was a testament to nature's beauty, a serene backdrop to your momentous discussion.

Seated in a circle under a canopy of blooming cherry blossom trees, the air was filled with excitement and anticipation. Wonwoo's parents were elated beyond words; his mother radiated a celestial happiness, while his father's eyes held a proud gleam. On the other side, your mother couldn't contain her joy either, with her childhood friend's son being the groom-to-be.

As plans for the wedding took centre stage, the four of them discussed every detail with fervor. Your mothers sat next to each other, their camaraderie evident in the way they exchanged anecdotes and shared their excitement. The garden provided a serene respite, with the soft rustling leaves and the distant chirping of birds forming a soothing symphony.

However, the news of a private wedding seemed to dampen their enthusiasm. Your mother voiced her concern: "We can't have our only children's wedding like this. What will people think? They might assume the worst."

You and Wonwoo shared a knowing glance, understanding the predicament. Just as you were about to address the issue, his hand landed on your shoulder—a gesture that surprised you but didn't betray it on your face. His calm presence emboldened you.

In his composed manner, he spoke, reminding both sets of parents about the time crunch. He suggested an alternative, his words carrying the weight of careful consideration. "Considering that L/N Enterprises' 75th anniversary is just three months away, perhaps we could have a reception there. A gala that combines both events

His suggestion was met with a mix of surprise and approval. You couldn't help but marvel at his insight into the intricacies of your family's business events. His parents' agreement brought a sense of relief, and your mothers immediately delved into discussions about the grandeur and coordination needed for such an occasion.

Meanwhile, your fathers found common ground in their shared love for football, and their discussion was animated and filled with camaraderie. Seated next to you, Wonwoo seemed to be lost in thought, his phone in hand. His gaze, however, was fixed on your fingers as they fidgeted with the ring he had placed on your hand.

The subtle touch of the ring brought warmth to the place where he had touched you. Unbeknownst to you, Wonwoo's father observed this quiet interaction, a knowing smile curving his lips.

...

With only two days left until the wedding, the world around you seemed to be spinning in a frenzy of preparations and arrangements. Rachel, your mother, and Chan's assistant, Jun-min, were orchestrating a symphony of tasks on both sides to ensure every detail was perfect. Amidst the whirlwind, you found yourself seated at your desk, the file of your upcoming exhibition of rare gems open before you. However, your mind refused to stay focused, drifting away like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze.

The rapid pace at which everything was changing left you feeling as if time itself was slipping through your fingers. The days seemed to merge into one another, and you struggled to internalise the enormity of the changes taking place in your life. With a sigh, you closed the file and allowed your thoughts to wander back to a phone conversation you had with Wonwoo just last night.

His name lingered on your lips like a whisper carried by the wind. The memory of his warm and steady voice played in your mind like a soothing melody. You had called him with important news about a case and explained why his presence was crucial. And then you found yourself speaking the words that had been lingering on the edge of your thoughts.

"Wonwoo," you began, your voice carrying a mixture of contemplation and vulnerability. "I know we've signed a contract, and it's a mutually beneficial arrangement. But there's something I feel the need to discuss. Adopting Noel means that he will forever be a part of your life, at least on paper. Are you sure you want that?"

The seconds that followed your question felt like suspended time, a void where anticipation held its breath. And then his response came, each word falling like a gentle rain that quenched the thirst for uncertainty.

"You know, Y/N. His voice resonated through the line, a soft caress against your ears. When I first took over the business, I was driven by the desire to leave a lasting mark on the world. But now, it all seems like a cycle of profit and loss. And when I consider the impact it could have on his life, why not? It's not like I have to pay for childcare," he added with a touch of humour, and your chuckles danced together like notes in a melody.

The ringing of your phone cut through the recollection,disrupted by the familiar sound of your ringing phone. With a delicate touch, you picked it up, and your mother's voice flowed through the line, a cascade of concern and authority intertwined.

"Hello, Mama. Your voice held a soothing tone, an echo of familiarity.

The barrage of her words swept over you like a mother's affectionate reprimand. "Why are you still in your office? Didn't I tell you to go for your fitting? Tommy is waiting for you, and you know how crucial these appointments are."

In the midst of her words, there came a polite knock on your door, and you motioned for the visitor to enter. Rema, your confidante and partner in this whirlwind, stepped in, her lips moving silently, inquiring about your situation.

You brought the phone back to your ear, offering a hasty response to your mother's concerns. "Yes, yes, Mama, I'll be there shortly."

Her voice shifted into a higher octave, an urgent note encased in her words. "What do you mean you'll be there? Go now! Do you have any idea how much work planning a wedding takes? And on top of that, you've chosen to hold it in our residence! If it weren't for that commendable child, Rachel—"

Her voice trailed off, the echo of her thoughts leaving an invisible trail in the air. And in less time than it took to catch a breath, you found yourself transported from your office to the plush surroundings of Thomason's, often fondly referred to as "Tommy's" boutique. The pristine ambiance welcomed you, and the scent of delicate fabrics and elegance enveloped you like a soft embrace. As you stepped into the luxurious ambiance of Thomason's, Rema followed closely behind, her fingers gliding through the racks of exquisite gowns. Her voice carried curiosity as she voiced a question that had perhaps been lingering in her mind for a while. "Do you not have any other friends?"

Engrossed in your phone as you replied to a message, your response came without a moment's hesitation. "I did, but she died in an orchestrated car crash. Sooo, no, I don't."

When you finally looked up, you met Rema's shocked expression. It was as if she hadn't expected you to approach such a sensitive topic with such nonchalance. The gravity of the situation, however, gave way to a shared understanding. The corners of your lips curled upward, and her lips mirrored your amusement.

With a voice adorned by a rich French accent, Thomas emerged to greet you, his exuberance evident in his words. "Here's my bride."

You responded with a warm smile, acknowledging his affectionate welcome. "Thomas."

His excitement was palpable as he continued, "Welcome, darling. I was going blind, staring at the door for your arrival."

"Hurry, I have shortlisted the dresses for you. All you have to do is try them on, darling. Your skin... it looks like you took a private appointment with the sun."

Amused by his playful comment, you chuckled softly. "I know an amazing place."

"It's alright, Tommy. Mama has taken care of that. Where's the dress? I have a meeting at 3."

In the midst of Thomas' effervescent energy, you embarked on the quest to find the perfect dress for you. ...

You stood before the mirror in the changing room, behind the curtain. The white dress with its ethereal blue hues As you contemplated how it would look on you, the dress felt like a second skin, embracing you in an intricate dance of lace and silk. The blue hues seemed to complement your complexion, bringing out the warmth in your skin.

As you admired yourself in the mirror, you heard a subtle rustling of fabric. You heard a voice you've grown quite familiar with over the last few days. Your gaze shifted towards the entrance. You stepped down from the platform and opened the curtain. There, occupying the spot where Rema had been sitting, was Wonwoo. His presence was unexpected, and your eyes met in a momentary connection that seemed to speak volumes without uttering a single word. In that fleeting instance, you saw a myriad of thoughts cross his features, a silent conversation that left you both a touch spellbound.

Rema returned from the restroom and noticed Wonwoo's presence, her eyebrows quirking up in surprise. Before you could ask, Rema beat you to it: "Mr. Jeon? What are you doing here?"

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, his gaze never leaving yours. "Well, what kind of fiancé would I be if I didn't assist her in selecting the dress?" Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a mix of emotions swirling within you. He was here, taking a genuine interest in the moment. But you know better than to believe in empty words. You couldn't help but wonder about the real reason behind Wonwoo's unexpected appearance. Just as the situation settled in, Chan entered the scene with a suit in hand. He shot a quizzical glance at Wonwoo before shifting his attention to the empty fitting room. "The fitting room is free now." Your curiosity eased, and within a few seconds, it was raised. Wonwoo's gaze shifted to Chan and then back to you. His lips curled into a gentle smile. "Never mind, Chan. I'll leave with the suit." ''Y/N'' ''Wonwoo'' With those words, Wonwoo turned to leave. Well, that wasn't awakward at all, you thought to yourself when he halted in his stride and looked over his shoulder, catching your eyes. ''Blue really is your colour. ''Blue really is your colour'' A soft, surprised smile tugged at your lips as Wonwoo's unexpected comment hung in the air. There was a complexity to him that you hadn't fully grasped yet, a depth that went beyond the surface.

The boutique's atmosphere seemed to shift with his departure, leaving you standing there with a lingering sense of his presence. You touched the fabric of the dress; the blue hues now carry a different significance. In the midst of wedding preparations and the whirlwind of events, there was a thread connecting you and Wonwoo, and you couldn't deny its pull.

With a sigh, you turned your attention back to the dresses.

...

A bittersweet atmosphere settled in your room, carrying a mix of excitement and nostalgia. As the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows, why not? It was the night before the wedding. You were packing your remaining belongings in the bag. There was a subtle knock on your door, and your father quietly entered the room. There was a gentle smile on his lips and a mixture of pride and affection in his eyes.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said, his voice warm as he crossed the room to sit beside you. The anticipation of the big day hung in the air, but in this moment, it was just you and him, sharing a quiet connection.

"Hey, Dad," you replied, your own smile reflecting the emotions swirling within you. The upcoming wedding was a symbol of new beginnings, but it also marked a chapter closing—a shift in the dynamic you had always known.

He took a deep breath, a hint of nostalgia in his gaze. "You know, I can't believe my little girl is all grown up and getting married. There was a mixture of pride and a touch of sadness in his tone. He reached out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was affectionate and comforting.

You leaned into his touch, feeling a surge of emotions welling up. "I can't believe it either," you admitted, your voice soft. It's a lot to take in."

He nodded, his gaze lingering on your face as if trying to capture this moment in his memory. "I want you to know, sweetheart, that no matter where life takes you, I'll always be here for you. Even if it's in a different way."

A lump formed in your throat, and you looked down for a moment, struggling to hold back tears. His words were a reassurance, a reminder that even as things changed, the bond between you two remained unbreakable.

"I know I wasn't always there," he continued, his voice slightly husky with emotion. "Work, responsibilities... I wish I could've been around more."

You shook your head gently, reaching out to take his hand in yours. "Dad, you've always been there when it mattered most. You've supported me in every decision and every step I've taken."

He let out a soft chuckle, a mixture of emotions in his eyes. "I suppose I have, haven't I?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "You've taught me so much, Dad. Your strength, your wisdom... I couldn't have asked for a better father."

His hand tightened around yours, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. "And I couldn't have asked for a more wonderful daughter."

Feeling a lump in your throat, you shifted to sit on the ground and rested your head on his knees. He cupped your cheek with one hand and tenderly stroked your hair with the other. The silence between you was filled with unspoken emotions, a lifetime of memories, and love. ''You know, when your mother and I got married, our situation was so complex; at that time, she settled for a compromise. But look at where we are now. But I never wish that for you. I hope you're not doing it for any other reason except for love. Love... A sad smile graced your lips as memories flooded your mind, like delicate ripples on the surface of a pond. It was a quiet afternoon, just you and Ella sitting in her cosy living room. The warm sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a golden hue on everything it touched. And then, as if orchestrated by fate, Noel took his first steps, his chubby legs wobbling with effort.

Your heart swelled as his uncertain movements brought him closer to his mother. Ella's eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and joy, and you both watched in awe as he made his way to her. The world seemed to hold its breath, and the atmosphere was infused with an indescribable tenderness.

And when Noel finally reached his destination, his arms extended towards Ella. There was a magical connection between mother and child. Time stood still as she rushed to embrace him, holding him close in a cocoon of love. The room was filled with laughter, a joyous symphony that resonated in the air like a soothing melody. In that intimate moment, the power of love was tangible. As you reminisced about that day, a sense of melancholy settled over you. Love had left its mark on that day, woven into the fabric of those shared experiences.

"I'm going to miss you, you know," he admitted softly, his voice tinged with both happiness and sadness.

"I'm going to miss you too, Dad," you replied, your voice muffled against his pants.

He continued to stroke your hair, a soothing gesture that seemed to say more than words ever could. As the night deepened, you found comfort in each other's presence, cherishing this moment of quiet connection before the new chapter began.

The day had finally arrived, and the world around you was a whirlwind of motion and preparation. The atmosphere was charged with energy as people moved about, setting up tables, arranging flowers, and making sure every detail was perfect. Your mother had chosen a garden wedding, and the weather was on your side—pleasant with a gentle sun that lacked the usual scorching heat. The air was filled with the soothing aroma of cafe au lait dahlias, adding to the enchantment of the day.

Your make-up artist, Ashton, worked meticulously on your hair, applying final touches with the expertise of an artist. Memories flooded back as one of his assistants passed him a pin, triggering a nostalgic smile on your face. You remembered the time you had done Noella's hair for her shotgun wedding, a playful fantasy shared between the two of you.

"I'll fulfil my 'Mama Mia' fantasy at your wedding," she remarked, her tone light and teasing.

"Or maybe at your second wedding," you replied, the humour shared between friends soothing her nerves.

"Y/N!" she playfully smacked you, and your laughter filled the room, mingling with the excitement that hung in the air, calming your own jitters. You took a moment to admire your work in the mirror, appreciating the intricate details you had crafted. Leaning down, your faces aligned in the reflection, and your eyes met through the glass.

"You look beautiful," you said sincerely.

She squeezed your hand, a mutual understanding passing between you. "You too." . As if on cue, your mother's presence graced the doorway, and you saw her reflection in the mirror. Her voice wavered with emotion as she spoke again, repeating the sentiment that hung in the air.

"You look beautiful," she said, tears welling up in her eyes. She blinked them back, fighting to keep her composure. "I can't believe my princess is all grown up. Where did all the time go? It feels like yesterday when you used to sneak into my room, walking in heels way too big for you and smearing makeup all over your small face."

"Mama," a lump formed in your throat as you listened to her words, the weight of your own secrets pressing on your chest. You felt an overwhelming guilt for deceiving such loving parents.

"No, no," she continued, her voice softening. "Ashton did a wonderful job, and I wouldn't dare ruin it."

A light-hearted comment about the groom's arrival shifted the mood in the room. Your mother's words struck a chord, and you found yourself anxious for Wonwoo's presence. The room fell into a hushed silence as you waited.

"Is Wonwoo not here yet?" you questioned, concern edging in your voice.

"Well, his parents and assistant are here. We're just waiting for him. Once he arrives, we can proceed," she explained, his tone reassuring.

Your mother walked closer, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. She leaned in, whispering in your ear, "Don't worry and keep calm, okay?"

You nodded, grateful for her support, and settled back down as Ashton continued the finishing touches. In this whirlwind of emotions, your mother's words were a lifeline, grounding you in the midst of the excitement and anticipation that surrounded your wedding day.

... Wonwoo was late. Wonwoo's realisation of his lateness weighed heavily on him. He had never intended to be late for such a significant day, but circumstances had their own plans. As he gathered his things and prepared to leave, your driver arrived with your suitcase, a reminder of the impending days before you both moved into your villa together, taking Noel along to join your new family. He sighed and placed his jacket in the back seat, ready to make his way.

But fate seemed to have a different agenda. Just as he was about to drive out of the parking lot, a figure stumbled in front of his car—a shock that sent him slamming on the brakes. "Eleanor?" he exclaimed, his heart skipping a beat as he recognised her. Rushing out of the car, concern etched on his face, he checked on her, his worry overshadowing his own delays. She had fallen, and he gathered her gently in his arms, searching for her pulse. The realisation hit him hard—she was intoxicated beyond comprehension.

"Wonniee, please... don't... please don't leave me, baby—please. Her words were broken, accompanied by sobs that seemed to pierce the air. In that moment, he looked down at the woman in his arms, the same woman who had once held his heart within her hands. She had shattered it without a second thought, walking away in pursuit of a better opportunity, something he had not been ready to offer, both mentally and emotionally. The signs of her true nature had been there all along—the disdain his parents held for her, her behaviour towards his peers and family. The binding of love had veiled his eyes, but now it was clear.

Gently lifting her, he carried her to the back seat of his car and laid her down. She continued to mumble incoherently, lost in her drunken haze. His thoughts drifted back to you—his family, waiting for his arrival, their anticipation mounting. He imagined his father's frustration and the tension building as time ticked away.

Arriving at his hotel suite, he carefully laid Eleanor on the bed, her form cradled by the mattress. But as he looked down at her, memories flooded back—moments they had shared, the intensity of their relationship that had once consumed him. She clung to him, her actions and words fueled by the alcohol that clouded her judgment. Her lips found his neck, leaving a stain of lipstick on his collar, a stark contrast to the path he had chosen.

His gaze softened as he regarded her for a moment, a mixture of emotions swirling within him. But above all, there was a deep sense of pity. I felt pity for her, for the choices she had made, for the pain she had caused. Without a word, he turned away from her and left the room, his heart heavy with the realisation of what could have been.

His thoughts returned to you, his family, and his commitment. There was a newfound clarity within him.

...

It seemed as if time was testing everyone's patience. You stood by the entrance to the garden, where you and Wonwoo were meant to make your grand entrance together. An hour had passed, and he was still nowhere in sight. The city hall officer stood patiently in the ordained spot, with your parents and family seated on the right side. Murmurs floated through the air, adding to the growing tension. Your mother's anxiety was palpable, and your father's clenched fists and jaws revealed his inner turmoil. Wonwoo's father wasn't faring much better; his frustration was evident. Sunmi held his hand, offering a silent source of comfort; her presence was a balm to his turmoil. He was even ashamed to look over at Kaori. He never thought that he would have to witness a day like this due to his son. Kaori maintained her composure, but the rhythmic tapping of her fingers on her thigh betrayed her true emotions to those who were observant.

From your vantage point, you could see it all—the emotions running high, the impatience growing tangible. Embarrassment started to seep in as you considered what to do next. Your gaze shifted to where Racheal was stationed, and you extended your bouquet to her. Your decision was clear.

"Very well—Racheal, inform everyone that the wedding is—"

However, a familiar voice interrupted your words, booming into the room. Sorry, I'm late. Shall we, Y/N?"

The atmosphere froze; everyone's attention was now fixed on Wonwoo's late arrival. Ashton and his assistant exchanged glances; Racheal and Chan were visibly tense. Chan was on the brink of sweating profusely.

Assessing him with a critical eye, you noticed the stain on his neck—an unspoken revelation of where he had been. Dissatisfaction rippled within you, mingling with a slight disappointment as your stomach churned with unease. His jacket bore the unmistakable scent of alcohol.

''Just a moment, Wonwoo. Ashton, please wipe Sir's neck." Ashton acted swiftly, stepping forward. "Yes, ma'am," Ashton replied, tending to the task at hand. Chan fumbled for a cologne and sprayed it onto Wonwoo's jacket, an attempt to mask the scent of alcohol. After collecting himself, Wonwoo extended his hand to you, a practiced smile on his lips as if to quell any unease.

You took his hand, your eyes locking onto his with a mixture of emotions—unspoken disappointment and a lingering expectation. With practiced grace, you both began your march forward, arms intertwined, heading towards the altar. . However, from the back, a voice disrupted the air, loud enough for all to hear. "Young people these days, blinded by passion, make decisions they later regret."

"Tch, my poor niece Y/n," another voice chimed in. "I told Kaori—"

Your father's sudden rise from his seat cut off the comments, his stern presence demanding silence. He cleared his throat, poised to address the gathering, and the atmosphere shifted. Just as the tension was about to escalate, the violins began to play, diverting everyone's attention. All eyes turned towards the aisle, capturing the sight of you and Wonwoo, your arms linked and your practiced smiles firmly in place. The strains of the violins wrapped around you as you both stepped forward to embrace a new chapter of your lives.

Extra: Amidst the papers and organised chaos of the office, your father was engrossed in his work when his secretary's voice cut through the air, informing him that a certain Jeon Wonwoo was waiting to meet him. He nodded and gestured for Wonwoo to be brought in, his curiosity piqued by the unexpected visitor.

As Wonwoo entered, your father offered a polite nod and a gesture towards the chair opposite him. "Please, have a seat."

Wonwoo sat down, his posture displaying a mixture of respect and determination. "Thank you for seeing me, sir."

Your father studied him for a moment before getting straight to the point. "What brings you here, Son?"

Wonwoo cleared his throat, his eyes meeting your father's directly. "I've come here with a purpose, sir. I'd like to ask for your permission to propose to your daughter."

Your father's eyebrows raised in mild surprise. He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together. ‘Did Y/N asked you?’

“I’m afraid she’s not aware of it sir’’

"And why do you feel the need to ask for my permission?"

Wonwoo's gaze didn't waver as he responded, "Because from what I’ve observed she holds you you both in high regard and I respect her and I respect you, sir. I believe that family plays an important role in a relationship, and your blessing means a lot to me."

A thoughtful smile played on your father's lips. "Interesting. And what do you want from this relationship?"

Wonwoo's honesty shone through his eyes as he replied, "I'll be frank, sir. I can't say I'm madly in love with your daughter. But what I can promise is that life with her won't be ordinary. There will never be a dull day. With her, there's adventure, challenge, and growth."

Your father's laughter filled the room, a genuine amusement evident in his eyes. "You're quite the straightforward young man, Wonwoo."

Wonwoo nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I believe in transparency, sir."

Your father leaned forward, his demeanour serious once again. "Tell me, do you want her or what she has?"

Wonwoo's answer was unwavering, his voice steady. "I want her. Her personality, her spirit, and her presence I want her in my life."

Your father leaned forward, his expression softening. "You know, Y/n is a force to be reckoned with. She has her dreams and her own world. I won't let her be with someone who doesn't see her worth."

Wonwoo met your father's gaze with sincerity. "I understand that, and I respect her dreams. I promise to always support her aspirations and give her the space she needs."

A thoughtful silence lingered between them before your father finally spoke; his tone softened. "You know, Wonwoo, marriage isn't just about love. It's about understanding, respect, and partnership. It's about navigating life's challenges together."

Wonwoo nodded, absorbing your father's words. "I understand that, sir. And I'm willing to put in the effort and commitment to make it work."

A warm smile spread across your father's face. "You remind me a lot of myself when I was younger. Determined and unafraid to speak your mind, Alright, son, you have my permission."

Wonwoo's gratitude was evident in his eyes as he extended a hand to shake your father's. "Thank you, sir. I won't take this opportunity lightly."

With a firm handshake, your father concluded, "I trust you won't. Take care of her, Wonwoo."

As Wonwoo left the office that day, he carried with him not just your father's permission but also a sense of responsibility and a newfound bond.

tbc.

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A/N: Jeez bro, wonwoo you pissed the wrong girl ngl, well the brownie points he gained by this act of chivalry are in trouble. Do let me know how you liked this 11k monster.

msh

#kpop fluff #kpop angst #kpop smut #seventeen #fanfiction #jeon wonwoo x reader #aquamarine #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen arrange marriage au #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen angst #seventeen imagines

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sygneth · 10 months

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my absolutely random headcanons that are not tied to anything they just popped in my head unprompted (and i'm not even sorry half of them is about Jean)

(if you read EOE it may be useful knowledge? or not lol)

Judit's husband is a writer, he's semi-successful in his job, probably currently writes articles for some paper or something like that, and works on a novel in his free time.

Harry inherited the apartment he is living in when he was a young adult, so he was, fortunately, wrecking only his own property (but it also implies it's probably still the same apartment since Dora times, oof.)

Jean cannot walk the stairs. Running. is the only option. Hoppin' two steps at a time. Free workout time, yeah?

Piss and Fuck witnessed Harry's kamikaze jump over the canal and I refuse to believe they didn't have that on the back of their minds while checking out Kim's MC on the plaza.

Harry would totally eat pizza with pineapple and say it's the best kind and Kim would totally want to divorce him over it.

Jean totally learned how to play piano when he was young, he probably forgot most of it since though. He probably sings well too.

Jean hates spring & summer seasons due to allergies, he's totally allergic to pollen, not sure if anything else but probably yeah.

Kim is one of those people whose feet get absolutely massacred by each new pair of shoes he tries to wear, so he tends to wear one pair for literal years not to have to struggle with a new one.

Play a late '00s pop dancing song (like Kesha or Lady Gaga) to slightly drunk Jean and see what happens (everybody has guilty pleasures, right)

Before becoming a cop Jean tried to study... something. Or more than one something, but nothing slapped (fuck yeah depression), so he decided to go RCM because eh.

Kim's hair has a magical ability (or maybe he's just not cheap on his hair products...) to stay neatly combed regardless of the circumstances. He could get into a most violent fistfight and still play in a hair product commercial afterward.

Jude has an older brother.

When Plaisance and Annette move out from Martinaise, Annette will switch schools to the same where Mikael is going. I need them to be friends who will nerd about books and games and computers.

#disco elysium #headcanon #echoes talking #sort of?#well since i make this AU and put my headcanons in it i suppose it is #to be continued

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slugtranslation-hypmic · 4 months

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Hey there Slug! I hope you ain't too buys and might have a lil fun with this one! Of each individual character, what are your respective favorite songs of theirs and why?

This is an easy ask to answer, so I'mma clear it from the pile and get to some older ones eventually.

I assume you mean solo songs only, right?

Under a cut for length because there are a bajillion boys in this series

Ichirou: I like his VA's rapping work in just about everything; he's really solid. Stage Ichirou also has a youthful quality I appreciate a lot, but of the main series songs... probably Break the Wall. It's high energy in a fun way. It also ties into a creative project I've been chewing on for years that's near and dear to my heart, although I'm not sure if I'll ever put it to paper and share it anywhere.

Jirou: I think Jirou's VA has a very pretty singing voice, so I like his softer songs. In general, I admire the "softer" aspects of Jirou's character and think that's where he shines best. So probably School of IKB, although I adore his choruses in Re:start.

Saburou: Requiem. I'm very, very, very into things that commit to being over the top and goofy, and I also enjoy combining classical and baroque elements with other genres. What's not to like here?

Samatoki: Gangsta's Paradise. The high speed rap is technically compelling. I generally appreciate v. fast rap since I enjoy learning and singing them. If the stage plays count, I really enjoy the emotion Samatoki's stage actor brings to Come Back to Me.

Juuto: ...There is some interesting text in the Personality section of Juuto's wiki page. (I have it pulled up to quick reference the song lists.) If anyone with wiki edit powers is reading this, you may want to clean that up... Anyway, I feel like they give Juuto great background music in just about every song, but Uncrushable takes the cake for me. I really like the BG music in that.

Riou: Move Your Body Till You Die, hands down. Goofy as fuck. Also, great workout music.

Ramuda: I find his main voice pretty grating, and his usual styles of music aren't my favorite in general. So Ramuda songs don't do a lot for me. I appreciate Pink Colored Love for plot reasons, though.

Gentarou: The slower Hypmic songs rarely do a lot for me, but I found myself enjoying Yume no Kanata a lot. Not sure I know why, necessarily...

Dice: 3$EVEN was one of the first songs I really enjoyed in Hypmic, and I still like its high energy today. In general, I'm impressed by Dice's VA's rapping ability and appreciate his parts in group songs a lot.

Jakurai: Like I said earlier, I'm not usually a fan of slow songs, so none of Jakurai's solos or duets have ever stood out to me. With that being said, I think Jakurai's speech style and slower rhythms makes him more fun and easier to translate w/ full rhyme and rhythm than many other characters. Like I think Labyrinth Wall would be fun to do a full cover of with syllable matching rhymes and line length while simultaneously trying to stick as close to the core meaning and tone as possible.

Hifumi: Both Champagne Gold and Don't Stop the Party are high-energy bops and great for working out. Slight preference for the former. I also really like his singing voice in group songs.

Doppo: Doppo's angrier verses in group songs are fun, but I'm especially fond of BLACK OR WHITE. In particular, I enjoy the DOTAMA cover. I'm a big DOTAMA fan for both his lyrical strength and considerable rapping chops. He's got a lot of songs that are really punchy and angry in this exact vein, and I love throwing on a playlist of his stuff while grinding out tedious work projects. Hahaha. Just rapping along "I don't want to work. I don't want to work. I don't want to work. BUT HERE I AM, WORKING!!!!" furiously under my breath.

Sasara: Comedian Rhapsody is really fun. This is another song I would love, love, love, love to try and do a full translation w/ preservation of rhyme/line length/jokes. Not for sharing--at that point it's just kinda showing off--but it's fun to chew on bits of it when I have moments of free time.

Roshou: Like most of the slow song characters, Roshou's solos aren't my favorite. I guess I prefer Under Sail to Own Stage for its background music.

Rei: All of Rei's songs are wild to the point of me liking them for the goofiness. If you commit to the bit, I'll enjoy it 9 times out of 10. Doesn't matter what the bit is. Shiro to Kuro is probably my favorite. LOVE the "heh heh we are up to no good" NPC villain energy of that song. But also, shout-out to his singing in Enishi, even if it's nigh-on intelligible to me. I love the hell out of Enishi in general.

Kuko: The king of goof himself. Sou Gyaran BAM is probably my favorite, but I am--to some degree--into virtually every song he's in.

Juushi: Wow, I'm listed as a source on this wiki page, lol. Anyway. Juushi's aesthetic as a whole isn't my cup of tea, but I have a soft spot for Moonlight Shadow, because the first two times I heard it were on Spotify shuffle while I just so happened to be scrubbing a toilet. So for a couple months after, I would put Bad Ass Temple on every time I cleaned the bathroom. Hahaha.

Hitoya: One and Two, and Law is so fucking goofy. I adore it. The live version with the airhorn? Chef's kiss.

Otome: Fuck it, let's do the ladies too. Out of all of her musical appearances, I like Just Do It the most. It adds such an interesting strength to her character, and the English portions are done super well.

Ichijiku: Love, love, love her part in Verbal Justice for its strength. This is yet another song I think would be fun to do a hell TL of, and then I remind myself that trying to rhyme "Kadenokouji" in English is a fool's errand.

Nemu: Her singing voice in WINK is nice, but I love her part in Femme Fatale for its energy. "I'm Nemu, and this is my masterpiece" Fuck yeah it is

#not a translation #asks #personal asks

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mangoshorthand · 1 year

Text

Flesh and Blood- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch3 (Hard Feelings Part 3)

SUMMARY: As Christmas approaches, everything between you and Five is perfect...until a destructive temporal anomaly gets in the way. Five is convinced another permutation of himself is to blame. Nothing's simple when you're in a relationship Five Hargreeves: could your loyalties be tested in a way unique to him? Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve - Chapter Thirteen

At Commission HQ, Herb realizes he has no alternative.

Smut below. Again. Proceed at your own risk

Chapter Three: Wynn

Herb sits behind his desk with his head in his hands. “Is there no other way?”

Betty sits across from him, nervously shuffling her file.

“I’ve run it again and again. We can’t warn him without altering the convectors. Neutralisation of the threat is the only action we can take.”

“And do we have to take action?”

“If we don’t, we risk altering the chain going forward. It’s too fractural- so many individual chains. If this is allowed to continue, there’s a good risk that the former president won’t-”

“Okay…okay.” He stares down at the desk top. He takes off his glasses and massages the bridge of his nose.

Betty sits forward a little, adjusting her crisp A-line skirt.

“I know you like the guy, Herb, but if he’d seen the math I have, he’d make the same call.”

“He’s going to put up one hell of a fight... I was here when the Handler tried to take him on. He’s not the kind of guy you want against you.”

“Then I’d suggest dispatching the best. Someone who can get in, out and get it done quickly and quietly. If they perform their job well enough, he won’t even know about it.”

Herb sighs deeply and sorrowfully.

“And what if they fail? Betty, this is Five Hargreeves. The best Temporal Assassin we ever had. Paris: 1938- that was him.

Betty meets his eye. She knows that, he knows that; but their hands are tied. Herb knows that too.

He sighs again.

“Up security on the whole of Headquarters. And we’d better send Wynn.”

The old locker-room style showers have fallen out of use. In Five’s short-lived teenage life at the Academy, they had been a source of psychological torture at least equivalent to any other of Reginald’s ‘team building’ activities. It had been OK for Allison- the only girl going through training- she had six showers all to herself but, for the rest of them, it had been hell.

Five remembers desperately trying to hide his lack of body hair while they’d showered, having caught enough of a glimpse of Luther’s legs to know that there was certainly more to see. All the boys had stared determinedly at their own showers, trying to clean themselves as quickly as possible. Klaus had been the only one trying to break the tension, drawing attention to the weirdness with improvised songs to soft R&B melodies:

‘Just showering with my brothers, Gettin' soapy in the steam, We're cleanin' off after beatin' on each other, Livin' the fuckin' dream,

He'd pretended to be annoyed with Klaus at the time but, looking back, he had made it bearable.

Now, for old times' sake, he casts his eye around the boys’ locker room while one of the girls' showers runs next door. You hadn’t wanted to walk through the house, as covered in sweat as you were. He’d worked you hard today. You've been doing so well with basic combat that he’s trying to introduce you to the high kicks of his own hand-to-hand fighting style. Better take advantage of the time before you become too heavily pregnant to train. He's decided to just stay close to you until his doppelganger shows up- it's all he can do.

He gets an idea that makes him smirk. He strips off his workout clothing and washes himself in the boys’ showers quickly and very thoroughly. Time to reclaim these showers.

Naked and damp now, he presses his back against the doorway between the locker room and showers, he watches you reflected in one of the mirrors. You're applying soap to your breasts. He smirks: he really couldn’t be doing this at a more opportune time. As the lather trickles down, his eyes follow it. You're not really showing yet, but something about knowing his baby’s in there is exciting to the possessive tendency he has to repress for the sake of a healthy relationship. You're his now in a way you haven't been before.

He lets his hand drift to his crotch, intending to surprise you when fully erect, but then you meet his eyes in the mirror.

“You going to join me or just creep on me?”

His eyebrows raise as he walks casually over. Joining you beneath the warm water, he presses himself against you from behind. It takes less than a minute for his dick to get deliciously hard against your ass cheeks, especially as his insistent hands paw and rub at your breasts.

“I’ve got plans for you.” He whispers, breath tickling the shell of your ear.

“Do tell.”

“Last night was all about you-"

"Yeah, sure it was." you interrupt, prompting him to smack your ass with a flat hand.

"- So today, it's all about me. First, I want you to rim me and jerk me off...the rest I haven't decided yet but I'm sure I'll think of something.”

You can hear the evil smile in his voice, the satisfaction he takes in almost telling you to do dirty things. “Does that work for you?" he says, more softly.

You nod, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Good..." he whispers, directly into your ear ". And, if you please me, I'll take you upstairs and make you come. Hard."

You snort laughter, "You know you're incredibly easy to please, right?"

He acknowledges this with another, sharper slap to your buttock.

“Get on your knees.”

You obey, amused. You kneel on the tiles behind him and he bends a little, using the waist-high bar running around the walls for support. You dive in eagerly, spreading his cheeks wider. As long as you don’t enter him, licking him like this always brings out his dominant side and today, that’s exactly what you want from him.

You give him long licks up and down the cleft of his buttocks. He lets out an ahh of amused pleasure.

“Taste good?”

You nod against him, surfacing long enough to say: “Yes, Mr Hargreeves,” with only an edge of irony.

“Mr Hargreeves?” he muses, “…interesting.”

The warm puff of your breath across his hole and the slick tip of your tongue makes his knees feel reluctant to stay locked in place. You circle the tight ring of muscle, eliciting shaky hums of delight. He can feel his nerves down there igniting like newborn stars.

Then, turning up the temperature, you french kiss his ass, using your lips now as well as your tongue, enjoying the feel of him and the clean taste. Saliva and shower water runs down your chin and onto his perineum.

At this, air abruptly leaves his mouth and one of his hands pushes the back of your head deeper between his cheeks.

“Fuck, that’s it. Eat my ass and stroke me,” he groans.

You bring one hand round to the front and start to rub his dick, standing at a high angle today. He groans in satisfaction, pushing your head a little more. You speed your licks to concentrated flicks and add a flick of the wrist to your jerking. Water runs down his ass onto your face. He’s breathy now, whispering.

“Fuck…fucck. Such a good girl.”

You speed up, and sense his hips wanting to thrust into your fist. Redoubling your efforts, you lose yourself: the ass and dick become the only important things to you at this moment. Your mouth makes obscene noises, just audible over the cascading shower.

When your fingers reach the tip of his dick, you can feel the pre-come leaking from his slit. You use two fingers to spread it around the sensitive glans before rolling his foreskin back down with a practiced twist. His breath hisses, his hips tense again and he grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Nngh- stop.”

Smiling, you let his cock go and give him one final lick. Slowly, you stand up. Now it's your body pressed against his from behind. You can feel how tense he is, having just come down from the very brink of coming. You kiss from his shoulder to his neck, occasionally marking him with your teeth and then soothing the hickeys with your tongue. He arches back into you, his hands reaching behind himself and coming to rest on your ass. He pulls you closer to him. Finally, when you reach his ear, you whisper directly into it.

"Do you want my ass?"

He inhales sharply and, over his shoulder, you see his cock twitch invitingly, shower-water dripping heavily off its tip.

"Yes."

His voice is gravelly now; his generous Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

You disengage from him briefly, bending over.You bring your hands to your asscheeks, you spread them wide for him. You cast a look at him over your shoulder, wondering what he's waiting for.

He tears his eyes from the sight in front of him long enough to lather himself with soap.

“Mm…" he says, "look at you, bent over and spread for me.”

His right hand beats himself while the left explores your asshole with soapy fingers. He’s patient, occasionally giving his dick a little break while he gets you stretched out.

He's the only man you've ever let fuck you here. He knows he shouldn't find that hot, he knows the idea of 'virginity' (let alone anal virginity), is a construct and he knows the idea of 'taking' virginity is equally inconsequential...yet he can't help but love the idea that you unknowingly saved this hole just for him.

His breathing deepens. You feel the head of his dick butting against your taught ass, not quite gliding into you. Soap eases the entrance, but there’s something nice about being able to feel it. Your mouth falls open and you let out a low ‘Oh’ of pleasure.

Your tight walls are firm but pliant around him, offering enough resistance to be deliciously tight. With the barest pressure from his hips, it swallows him.

“Deeper?” he says, voice restrained.

“Yes.”

He pushes in another inch and lets out a controlled exhale. You can tell by the tension in his body that he’s resisting the urge to thrust forward in one.

“Get balls deep, baby.”

With a grunt of relief, he jerks his hips forward, permission granted to do what he was holding back. Your ass protests a little, but being so full of him is more than enough recompense. It’s always his girth rather than length that gets you like this. Your pussy must be dripping. Even the knowledge that it will get its turn isn’t quite enough.

Sensing your mild discomfort, he pulls out carefully and applies more soap to both of you. It’s easier when he goes back in and you wiggle your hips to get him nice and snug inside you again, sliding down his length until your asscheeks are flush against his thighs.

He looks down at the gooseflesh on your skin, at the lines of the body he now knows as well as his own yet which never fails to light his fire. He begins to fuck you, gently at first, but ever-increasing in intensity.

“Nn-tight…tight little ass.”

He grabs your hair and pulls your head back, his humps into your ass becoming more experimental. He circles his hips, sways his hips, trying out new sensations. One moment he’s pulling his soap-slippy shaft almost all the way out and the next trying to drive it deeper than it can go.

“Fuck yes”, you groan through gritted teeth, “I love your cock in my ass, Five.”

And you do, particularly being used like this.

Soon, he finds a rhythm he likes and begins to ride it out. He’s bent over your back, hot chest pressed against your damp body. He rotates his pelvis rotating in a rapid, undulating figure eight.

When you cry out in pleasure, your tight sphincter suddenly clutches him, sending pleasurable spasms all the way down his dick. Oh wow.

“Going to come.”

“Come up my ass, Number Five.”

His rarely-used full name sends him spinning over the edge.

Luther strolls through the courtyard. It’s a fine, crisp day and the birds sing. Maybe he can go and sit by Ben’s statue for a while, it’s always nice to do that on his visits to the academy. His attention is caught, however, by steam coming out of the slit like locker-room windows. Nobody’s used those showers in nearly fifteen years. Curiosity gets the better of him and he steps a little towards it. Yes- he can hear the shower running. He can hear the shower and-

“-eat my ass and stroke me.”

WHY. WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING? Do they ever just…watch TV!? Is nowhere safe? He hurries back into the main house, feeling that his face must be melting like one of the Nazis at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark.

“Okay.” Five claps his hands once and paces a little, “let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

The family sit in the living room, called to a meeting and concerned as Five tries and fails not to pace. He picks up his glass of cognac nonchalantly. Something about the glass in his grip feels comforting, fitted to his hand. It acts as an easy rhetorical device- a glass can be waved, drained, sipped from or slammed down. He puts one hand in his pocket and takes a drink, playing for a little time.

“Shit or get off the pot, shitweasel,” says Lila.

“Lila, always a pleasure,” they exchange a sarcastic smile. When he hesitates again, you take it out of his hands.

“We're expecting a baby.”

Lila grins, slapping a congratulatory hand on your knee with a little squeal. The rest of them look from you to Five, open mouthed: Wait: you're having a baby?

"We're pregnant. Yes," he says, confirming it.

“We’re pregnant? Last I checked you don’t have much to do with this part.”

“Fine,” he replies, "I knocked you up. Better?"

You pull a face at him, though not at all offended.

General noises of approval and surprise flutter around the room as each of Five's siblings turns over the strange idea and finds it to their liking.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” says Luther, smiling with a tiny note of resentment in his voice: hadn’t he heard Five receiving a rusty trombone in the shower just this morning, for God’s sake?

“I’m gonna have a nephew or niece!" says Diego, enthusiastically.

“Why so binary Dee-Dee? It's a nibling for sure,” Klaus smiles.

Five addresses the group again:

“It’s actually a little worse than that,” he speaks as if announcing he got a parking ticket, bracing for a sentimental onslaught, “because we’re also engaged.”

Sloane squeals, launches herself over Klaus’s lap and ruffles your hair.

“Congratulations you guys!” Viktor hugs Five around the waist from his armchair.

“Well I’m just glad you’re making an honest woman of him," quips Klaus, "otherwise I would’ve had to get my shotgun.”

Five rolls his eyes, “Thanks, idiot.”

You receive hugs and congratulations from everyone. Five, extracting himself from Viktor with difficulty, shies away from any more hugs. Over the din, he gives a pained smile and holds up an admonitory hand.

“Yeah ok, ok. My genitals work and I’m getting married at some point in the future. Well done to me and a majority of the population. Now, can we focus on the issue at hand here?”

Viktor pours him a top up of cognac and Five raises the glass to him, appreciatively.

“Now: we know that I am messing around with time. And I think I’d only do that in the event that something goes wrong with the pregnancy. It’s the only reason I’d do something so reckless. Pregnancy and childbirth are still a dangerous proposition and if we can work out…”

During Five’s explanation, Lila continues to top up his glass. It seems like everyone knows what she’s doing except him. He’s occupied with reading them a lecture on the things most likely, according to his research, to cause problems with mother and baby. When he’s had around three doubles, Luther turns on music quietly. He gradually turns it up over the course of a few minutes while Klaus distracts Five with concerned questions. He doesn’t notice the music until Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes begin to duet 'The Time of my Life'

Five breaks off suddenly, having lost the train of thought in his booze-clouded brain.

“Ah Klaus! You remember this? You wanna try doing the lift this time?"

"Yes please- be my Patrick Swayze, Daddy!"

And thus, his family cajoles him into an impromptu party. It was skilfully done; you have to admit.

Five and Klaus's rendition of Dirty Dancing is...a mess. Trying to sing the duet and dance at the same time does not make for very good execution of either, especially after several drinks. When it comes to the showstopper lift, Five holds Klaus aloft for a split second before he overbalances and tips over Five's head, toppling a barstool and shattering a heavy globe. He nevertheless stands up unscathed and laughing.

You regret slightly that you can’t drink but Five mixes you several Shirley Temples which fill the hole nicely. As he and the others get slowly more drunk, you enjoy dancing with everyone. You, Lila and Klaus form a particularly exuberant trio while Five, Luther and Diego jump up and down with their arms around each other.

“Who's the daddy!" chant Luther and Diego,

"I'm the daddy!" Five responds, trying for his usual cockiness but spoiling the effect by spilling cognac on his shoe.

Lila watches him with a grimace before she turns to you.

“Tell me, why did you breed with that?”

You hold your hands out in front of you as if to indicate a measurement.

"He just has a really big cock, Lila. I can't resist."

"Euugh! Nasty!"

"Well you asked! Their Dad should have named him Eight, that's all I'm saying."

From behind the bar, Viktor laughs uproariously and pours himself another, throwing Klaus another beer as he does so.

Five catches your eye and winks his approval of your bare-faced lie.

Diego, not listening, pulls Five closer, swaying slightly.

“I tell you, Five. S’best job in the world. You ain’t gonna sleep for the next four years but it’s worth it. You’re going to have a little cousin, Santi!”

Santi’s dancing beside you, totally off the beat and not listening to his father.

Wynn finds it easy to slip in undetected, briefcase strapped to her back. Unlike other agents, she doesn’t break down doors or blow off heads; speed and stealth is her specialism. She anticipates absolutely no trouble whatsoever from this job. Not from Five Hargreeves or the rest of his clown academy. She’ll be gone and picking up her paycheck before they realize what’s happened. It’s an easy job with ridiculously high pay plus an extra 10% for speedy execution. So why wait?

Her suit is standard issue, company blue. The headwear she’d been allowed to choose herself…and she has a flair for the dramatic. Today she wears an opulent baroque-patterned tricorn hat, gold on crimson. A luxuriant ostrich feather plumes from one side. The mask is plain white and covers her whole face, its full lips painted red. Around the eyes, a masquerade-style pattern in bright mosaic.

From the basement, she can hear music thrumming above her and the sounds of several people laughing. They’re partying at four-thirty in the afternoon? It’s hard to tell why Herb was having such a fit about this one. He’d said she was underestimating the Umbrella Academy but Wynn had read the files herself. Sure, Five at least was intelligent, or some permutations were, but this one? He’d bumbled from apocalypse to apocalypse and found himself here by more luck than anything else. And, from what she could tell, he's spent the last seven years or so drinking like a fish and waxing an old Corvette. Herb was a man easily swayed by domineering personalities so she suspected he overestimated Hargreeves.

Creeping through the entrance hall, she positions herself behind the open living room door. There’s her mark. Dancing without a care. Now all she has to do is conceal herself and wait.

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @fivefolklaw

Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03. Here is a link to the whole series

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frog-water25 · 11 months

Text

Songs in my playlists I think the brothers would like 🙈

a/n: I haven't posted in like a year but I randomly got the urge to.

Lucifer:

A voz do Violão - Lula Barbosa

Amor Eterno - Rocio Durcal

(Hes a slut for señora music just like me 🤭)

Mammon :

Delicuente - Tokisha

(I stand by the Mammon is Latino agenda I don't wanna hear anyone disagree) (Honestly asmo too a lil cause this song is so dirty)

AEAO - Dynamic Duo, DJ Premier

(Driving late at night with him bro just imagine it 😮‍💨😮‍💨)

Levi:

Girl Fron - Loona/Odd Eye Circle

(“She wouldn’t have died if she stanned Loona” fan) (illegally streams it tho cause we are in a boycott) (cried when he found out all of Loona are free)

Kimi wa Melody- AKB48

(Ik he puts on his lil rurichan outfit to listen and dance to this 🥱🥱)

Satan

Tu falta de querer - Mon Lafarte

(He pretends to be the main character in his book getting betrayed)

I won’t last a day without you- The Carpenters

(Ik he loves the carpenters I just know it)

Asmo

Moonlight Sunrise- Twice

(Moonlight sunrise baby let's do it all night 😝) (Die-hard once Ik he biases Sana I can feel it in my bones) (He likes how twice is doing more mature stuff now)

Apocalypse- Cigarettes after sex

(My lips your lips apocalypse ☺️☺️☺️) ( you cannot tell me he looks at mc and sings it 🤧🤧)

Beel

Eve, Psyche, and the Bluebirds wife - (he def listens to kpop cause he thinks the dances are good workouts) (he ults NCT too Ik he bleeds green)

Háblame de ti - Banda MS

(I’m a lil selfish rn 🙄🙄 but you can’t tell me he doesn’t like Banda)(If me and beel ever get drunk together we will be singing banda together crying)

Belphie

Funny Valentine - Buck-Tick

(He def likes Vkei you cannot tell me his emo ass doesn’t not)

In My Dreams - Red Velvet

(Thinks of MC with this song) (Def biases Irene and calls her Mother)

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #obey me beelzebub #obey me brothers #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me nightbringer #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 2 years

Text

Nights at the Circus- Part II

Read Part 1 HERE, or on my AO3.

Summary: Being alone in Avengers Tower with Loki is getting on your last nerve, but it’s also striking a nerve of another kind, and you think a do-over may be in order, as long as your new housemate watches his step.

Content Warning: Asshole Loki, Doctor Loki, covertly being watched, sexual tension, injury, swearing

Word Count: 3.4k

You couldn’t sleep that night, so you decided to try out that new gym Tony left you with.

As soon as you were brought in, most of the others could see almost immediately that you felt like a caged prisoner, and that it wasn’t at all your fault you needed to be kept under watch. Tony had the idea that putting together a small training gym on the top floor and down the hall from your suite, equipped with all of the special work out tools a circus showgirl would use: tightropes, rings, poles, mats, and a trapeze dangling from the ceiling in the center of the room that would be accessed with a platform and ladder nearby. As an added feature, everything was flame retardant. Naturally, with his money and resources, the entire thing was assembled inside of three days. You were pleasantly surprised at the gift. Everyone (minus Loki) had been there for the grand opening.

Some of the Avengers had yet to make a decent impression, but Tony was all right by you.

Now that you were essentially alone in the Tower, you could finally really break the room in. After your odd encounter with Loki hours earlier, you were sure you wouldn’t see hide or hair of him as long as the others were out in Europe.

Unfortunately, you had no workout clothes, so leggings and a t-shirt tied at the waist would have to do. Ideally, you’d have something form-fitting, to prevent clothing from getting caught in any of the equipment. You tied your hair back and went down to the gym.

Tony had shown you how to turn on the music of your choice and adjust the lighting, and you created the optimal environment for practicing your trapeze swinging, which had been the last thing your boss had been teaching you before you were, well, kidnapped by The Avengers. Thus, you weren’t exactly great at it yet, but you were comfortable doing a few basic flips and turns.

You put an 80’s dance mix on the speakers, set it to ‘random,’ and smiled as Eurythmics began emitting from speakers in the upper corners of the room. You turned towards the floor-to-ceiling mirror wall on the far side, observing yourself for a moment, letting flames flicker up and down your hair before changing your mind and shaking them away.

“No fire, that’s what got you here in the first place,” you sighed.

You had done a little training with Steve and Nat in the week since you’d arrived. They weren’t worried too much about your power. Not as much as your ability to draw your flames back, anyway.

You weren’t the type to warm up before attempting something, as wise as such a practice was. Patience was never really your thing. Instead, letting the energy of the song’s base synch your heartbeat to it, you climbed the ladder that brought you level with the trapeze, not hesitating for a moment before leaping off and catching the bar effortlessly.

You liked how when you were in the air, nothing mattered but where your mind was. If you weren’t 100% focused in the moment, you could fall and snap your neck like a chicken bone. It was the easiest way to get rid of any annoying thoughts of chaos gods with long raven hair that were lingering from before, and it was surprisingly easy to do, at least to you. Even the music would blend into the atmosphere after a few good minutes, and there you’d be, swinging through haze and blur, no one in the world but yourself and gravity.

You let a few minutes of basic flips and swings go by before deciding to try a more complicated trick, one that you’d only landed twice in the four weeks you’d been practicing. Dangling from the bar by your knees, you pumped your body and created the inertia to bring your body up, twisting around twice after releasing your knees from their hold. You successfully completed the turns and let your legs catch the bar again.

“HOLY SHIT!” you yelled in spite of yourself, reacting to what a rush it was. “WHOA!”

The temporary lapse in concentration nearly took your balance, but you were able to quickly let go of the bar and fall safely on your feet below before anything worse happened.

Going over to a table along the wall and grabbing a swig of water from your bottle, you allowed yourself to bask in the moment, and as soon as the opportunity presented itself, sure enough, your mind wandered back to Loki.

True, it was Loki who had tricked you into being caught (the bastard). True, he hadn’t exactly been kind to you since you’d arrived. But you weren’t exactly being a warm guest, letting your anger over being an unwilling Avenger (who wasn’t even out avenging things) get the better of your personality. Steve knew you the best only because in training, you were already letting off steam (or, rather, smoke), and it was easier to be honest around him when you were feeling a bit better. Also, it certainly wasn’t hard to let your guard down and laugh around Thor. And of course, you appreciated Tony for building your gym. But otherwise, you’d at best just kept to yourself, and at worst, been rude.

Loki was right about one thing: he wasn’t exactly here willingly himself. Well, perhaps he was, but only because he preferred life in Avengers Tower over a prison cell on Asgard. He and his brother were certainly getting along better, so you didn’t blame him for choosing at least some contentment. Maybe he had some ideas on how to stave off the boredom, as well as the feelings of inferiority that came from being locked up like a zoo animal.

Not to mention, him staring so seriously into your eyes, holding you up against the wall, the delicate tapping on your collarbone sending ripples down your chest…you couldn’t help but admit to yourself that Loki was hot.

Like, really hot.

Well, while thinking about Loki in that regard may have been a bit inappropriate (at least for now), you thought that the least you could do was make breakfast in the morning for him and call for a truce. It would at least make the rest of your time alone with one another pleasant.

Deciding to try for two successes in one night, you put your thoughts back inside and went to climb the ladder once more. You could talk to the attractively dominant God of Chaos in the morning, anyway.

-.-.-

Loki was an Asgardian, and Asgardians didn’t need nearly as much sleep as Midgardians. Therefore, he only slept about three hours a night, and usually spent the rest of the dark hours in the library. After all, what else could he do while everyone else was sleeping? It was a term of his probation that he could not use any magic unless under strict permission and supervision, so it wasn’t like he could practice.

Not to mention, everyone else was asleep, so night time was lonely for the God.

Thor slept more than Loki, because he frequently drank almost a gallon of beer before bed, giving him a drowsier humor. He’d still only sleep a few hours, but Thor’s schedule was more along the lines of 12am-6am sleeping shifts, so for the most part, Loki was still left to his own devices.

Tonight, he was thumbing through a Midgardian book about intrigue and ghosts at about 1:30 in the morning when he was startled by a sound from the floor above:

“Holy shit! Whoa!”

Startled, Loki’s attention and gaze left the page for the first time in hours.

“The only other person here is…” he mumbled to himself, getting to his feet and slowly making his way upstairs.

Loki made the decision in the stairwell to be a little softer with you. Maybe your psyche wasn’t use to these rather harsh surroundings, and you weren’t coping well. He couldn’t have been helping with that. Not to mention, you’d not really done anything to deserve the harsh treatment he was offering. What was your crime, other than having an enhancement?

Loki followed the hallway to the area that Tony Stark had blocked off to add gym equipment for the new arrival. He’d never bother to see it completed. Peeking in the doorway, Loki caught sight of you ascending the ladder and jumping off on the trapeze as Billy Squier’s ‘The Stroke’ began blasting out of the sound system wired throughout the room.

He couldn’t help but be mesmerized by your agility and seeming weightlessness. Even he couldn’t see how he could repeat your aerial stunts. In spite of himself, he found himself smiling and stepping into the room, forgetting why he was there. You were doing tricks more complicated than anything he’d seen last week at the circus where he’d first laid eyes on you, your hair in flame as you charmed the crowd in a way he couldn’t.

You prepared yourself for your big flip when you heard a call from below you:

“Well, look at you! You really are a Fire Bird—”

“—GAH!”

The unexpected interruption to your concentration broke your spell, making you miss catching the bar, sending you tumbling back to the ground with a heavy THUNK, right onto your side, your foot rolling one way while the rest of your leg rolled another. Your felt like you snapped your left foot clear off. The pain was awful and instant.

You shrieked as Loki ran over, bending down at your side.

“Norns, Y/N, I’m—”

“—just what the actual HELL did you think you were doing??” you hollered. Loki had clearly planned this trick and had hoped you’d be hurt, the asshole. “What is your problem with me? What did I ever do to YOU?” The adrenaline rushing through you, along with the agony of your quickly-swelling ankle, was making you instantly defensive and upset. You couldn’t believe he’d stoop this low. “You said you’d never bother me again!”

“Oh, will you stop moving?” Loki groaned, observing your injury as well as he could as your thrashed about.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you retorted. Loki looked into your eyes, half upset, half irritated. His intense gaze made you shrink back.

“I can let you get to the infirmary on your own, then,” Loki quipped, getting to his feet quickly and beginning to leave the room. You began crying, but didn’t take too long before you attempted to shift your body over to the wall for support. As if you were going to call after him and ask for help!

Loki stopped just outside of the door and slowly turned upon hearing you struggle to stand on your own. “Norns, you are stubborn. But go on, I want to see you do it.”

You looked up at him as he leaned his hip against the doorway and folded his arms. You bit your lip and kept working against the pain, your hair lighting up with blue flames to punctuate your pride and frustration.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you asked in between struggling grunts and deep breaths attempting to hold back tears. Never let them see you cry, right?

“Do what? You won’t accept my help, Fire Bird. I’m only obeying orders,” he answered simply, smirking as you began to rise off the floor, your frame shaking.

There he was, lording himself over you again. You couldn’t let him win. Suddenly, something under your foot gave, and you slipped down the wall and fell back onto your ass again, the pain in your damaged ankle increasing exponentially. You cried out loud, not bothering to hide it from your lone audience member any more. The pain was just too much.

The battle was lost. You felt the painful, reluctant word rise in your throat and fall out between quiet breaths, barely a whisper. The flames in your hair petered out. “P…please?”

Instantly, you heard Loki’s boots race in your direction. You felt an arm tuck itself under your knees, and another slip itself under your back, followed by the sensation of being lifted off the ground. You could barely see through your tears, which you were still trying in vain to keep from flooding out. You could smell him, and he smelled delicious. His hair had the faint odor of mint, but the scent of nervous sweat was quickly mixing with it.

Loki didn’t wait to ask if you were okay to go before briskly walking down the stairs and towards the infirmary. He was graceful in his quickness. You felt like you were floating in his arms.

In no time at all, you were down several floors, and Loki had broken into the infirmary without even putting you down. In the dim light that turned on when the door opened, Loki looked around for where to put you. He looked off to his left, taking you over to a large chair and placing you in it. Then, he immediately bent down and gently began prodding your ankle with his fingertip. Your skin was tender to the touch.

“You came to your senses rather quickly,” he said softly. “Maybe it isn’t broken.”

“Um, I think this is a dentist chair, you imbecile.”

Loki glanced up at you and where he’d set you. You looked around the infirmary, and there were other, more suitable places to have set you nearby. Indeed, Loki had placed you in the chair used for dental surgery and eye exams (it seemed so pristine that it likely had yet to be used).

“I thought you’d learned you lesson, little girl,” Loki hissed, annoyed. He got up and began looking through drawers and cabinets in an attempt to find something to make into a splint. “I can put you on the floor if that’s what you prefer.”

You sighed. “Just…is it broken or not?”

“I can’t say, I’m not a physician,” Loki replied. “And until morning, there won’t be anyone who can help you.”

“What about 911?” you asked.

Loki paused. “We, uh, have a deal with them. They don’t like us very much. So that’s why we have everything here that we need without calling them.”

“Oh,” you whimpered, still in a lot of pain. “God damn, does this hurt. Guess I won’t be doing flips for a while.”

“You should be focusing on your fire, not your gymnastics,” Loki suggested, pulling a small vial out of a cabinet and looking at the bottle. “Do you know what lidocaine is?”

“Oh, I think so,” you said, trying to think through the pain. “I’m pretty sure it’s a local anesthetic. You inject it.”

“A pain reliever,” he affirmed. “Though I am not trained on intravenous medicine.”

“Oh please, just give me something if I have to spend all night with a broken foot!” you practically screamed, your face getting red. Loki looked at you with a pensiveness, as if he was considering something drastic, but was weighing the benefits of performing it.

“Look, there is something I can do, but I could get in a lot of trouble with them if they found out I did this. So I must ask you,” he offered, coming back over to where you sat, bending down beside you and taking your hand in his. He looked up at you with intensity. You found the pain in your leg lessening as you became more distracted. “I must ask you to tell me whether or not you want me to do this. I can only do it if you are certain this is what you want.”

“Yes,” you moaned softly, leaning back in the chair. “Please just take the pain away.”

“Good girl,” Loki whispered, leaning up to brush a tendril of hair that had fallen over your face. “It’ll feel cold for a moment, then nothing at all,” he warned.

You looked up towards the ceiling as Loki’s gaze fell back to your injury. He took your ankle in his grip, and a blue glow rippled down his arms before wrapping itself around your leg, sending what felt like ice branches crawling up your shins.

“Ugh,” you groaned.

“It’s almost over,” Loki assured you. As promised, only another moment passed before the freezing sensation abated. Your ankle was suddenly no longer swollen or in any pain. “You should be able to walk as if it never sprained.”

You took a few steps around the room to assure yourself and Loki that he was right. While you felt a little unstable, that due more to your nerves that it was your leg. While, thanks to your own abilities, you knew magic was real, it was still a little frightening trusting the magic of Loki the Trickster to mend your body.

“Although it’s a little odd for me to perform, seeing as healing wasn’t exactly my concentration in study,” he started to explain, “Every Asgardian royal has some semblance of restorative magic. I hope mine is adequate.”

“Oh, yeah this is fine,” you said quickly.

Loki nodded. “I don’t think anywhere else is injured, unless--?”

You immediately shook your head.

“Alright, then in that case I may go to sleep, and you certainly should,” he prescribed. “I’ll take you to your room.”

You were still trying to spare yourself a little bit of dignity, though. “No, no, I think I’m really alright.”

Loki knitted his eyebrow. “It’s four floors of stairs.”

“And I’m an Avenger now,” you replied with stubborn pride. “If I can’t handle four flights of stairs, how can I handle whatever big bad terrorist organizations are out there?”

“I suppose.”

Nevertheless, when Loki offered his arm to you in the stairwell, you found yourself taking it reluctantly. His arm was sturdy and worthy of your trust. You felt safe as the pair of you ascended to the last floor before your penthouse apartment, where Loki’s quarters were.

“Are you certain you don’t need me to—”

“—I’m not a baby, Loki,” You groaned, letting yourself go from his arm and slowly but steadily making your way up several steps on your own. “Good night.”

“Y/N,” Loki called after you. You stopped and turned to face him standing below you on the landing. “I could get in trouble for what I’ve just done. More than even I’m good for.”

“Trouble, as in…?” you asked him to elaborate.

Loki sighed. “Violation of probation. Means I get extradited back to Asgard and probably executed.”

You gasped. “Then why did you even bother? You hate me!”

Loki chuckled and shook his head as if to say “oh you dumb human!”

“What?”

“If someone is in pain in front of me, I like to be the cause of it, one way or another,” he explained, following you up the few extra steps above him you were standing, until his eyes were level with yours. “And yes, that was meant to sound as kinky as it did.”

He winked at you before reaching out with his hand, but pulling it back as if to stop himself from doing something he may have come to regret. Instead, he watched and derived pleasure from your confused look before it hit you what he was talking about.

“I’d not expect any less from someone like you,” you replied.

“Oh, pet, there is one thing you need to understand if we are to ever become congenial with one another.”

“And that is?”

Loki leaned in to your ear, leaning his cheek against yours ever so slightly, whispering in your ear: “There is no one like me.”

With that, he lingered for an extra moment (was he sniffing your hair?!) before quickly regaining his composure and casually hopping back down the stairs, going to close the door to the corridor behind him. “Goodnight, Fire Bird.”

“Thank you! For helping me,” you added, causing him to pause again in the doorway.

“Y/N, you’re welcome. Any…any time.”

Without any further discourse, Loki gently closed the door behind him, and you turned to head back to your room, where you spend over an hour without sleep, standing on the balcony instead and looking out over the city, still alight with nightlife, and musing over how being ‘cared for’ by Loki of Asgard made you feel somehow renewed in more ways than one.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

@toozmanykids @lokisninerealms

@lokisgoodgirl

Thanks for being so interested in this! It was partially your enthusiasm that helped me decide to make a Part 2!

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turmoilcity · 2 months

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HELLO!!! 😍 do you have like "theme songs" for your paras? i have way too many lmao so i'm curious

Sleep is for the weak.

YESSSSSSSSS!!!

Finally, a reason to ramble bout my paras!

Okay, so THIS VERSION

Plays out like a montage for Lillian and Oscar when they're out at the park or walking around the mall.

IMAGINE. the year is 2006- YES A Y2K AU IS WHAT IVE BEEN SLURPING UP LATELY.

Lillian is the sweet, bubbly cheerleader, Oscar's on the football team. They met at practice one evening and make googly eyes at each other across the field. This song plays when they start talking, hanging out like going to the movies, or to a park, or to an arcadia and crap buuuuuuuuuut this version plays-

At the end of the montage because it cuts to Lillian smiling all dazed at one of those old music stores that used to be in every mall?

One of those types!

So the daydream cuts to "The La's- There she goes" by the end of the song and it sounds kind of warped and the camera is pulling out of Lillian’s face as she's grinning with headphones on and that's the sound coming from the headphones before she takes them off because it turns out to be bothered by her friends because LIKE EVERY ROM COM MUSIC TRANSITION EVER we were just getting a pov of her happy place.

I love those two horny angels

Okay, next isssssss

SONG FOR BELLA

Often, I imagine her as a drummer. This song is one of those songs I imagine her SCREAMING with her awesome, awesome girl band.

This is currently for Dylan, and I will not elaborate.

Lillian on the subject of love basically.

The daydreams usually bright and colorful and fast paced. She has so many iconic looks during this song its criminal.

JENNAS WORK OUT SONG.

Everytime before it starts, I imagine GAME (the agency she works for) goes to her telling her they need her for a "special mission". The issue is, for some reason, Jenna hasn't been using her powers for a while. Usually because she's in Townsville for another mission and has to disguise her special abilities.

The song starts with her being kind of rough with her skill. She's struggling to get up early. Her grades aren't the prettiest. She's dropping weights. She gets the pokey pokey during fencing, and karate lands her on her butt.

Usually, by the first pre chorus she decides to pull out the textbooks, and start from there. She's focusing on her study and then by the chorus she gets a paper back in class with an A+

BY THE SECOND VERSE, she's in the gym. She's doing those rope things

Awe yeah. Now she's getting into it. She's punching the punching bag, deadlifting the squats, perfecting her sword swing

WAKING UP ON TIME FOR PRACTICE.

By the second pre- chorus her fencing has gotten so good, the opponent who first tagged her, gets tagged

And when her opponent takes off their mask, first she looks all out of breath, sweaty and taken aback, but then she gives an equally out of breath, sweaty, Jenna a smile of sportsman ship.

Now Jenna is stepping her game up.

The study is more extreme, but she can handle it as a hyper focused superhuman. The workouts are more extreme as well. She's lifting impossible weights, her fighting is more fluid and agile. She's become the epitome of hard work. Until the last chorus

"So you say I'm complicated...."

She's outside, in a sports bra and shorts. You can see the puff of her breath as she stretches. It's an easy cool, gray morning.

"But you had me underrated..."

She's hooking something up to the front of train rails.

The daydream cuts to a kid playing outside by themselves. He's boredly sucking on a lolipop. The ground is suddenly shaking, startling the kid. When the child looks over their shoulder-

ITS JENNA

PULLING THE TRAIN UP A HILL WITH HER THIGHS.

She's tied some sort of indestructible ROPE from her thighs to the trains front and is walking the train up.

The kid has a moment like the one little boy from incredibles

And yeah. Jenna... WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU PULLING TRAINS WITH UR LEGS.

Cause she's dedicated to quality

Duh. Don't let her simple looks fool you. She is 💯 THAT BITCH.

Anyways, she acknowledges the kid, gives an awkward wave before turning the train around and racing it down the hill, pulling it backwards.

It's just another training day for Jenna. Jenna probably thinks, "Well, does the kid want heroes or not?"

The rest of the song is just her doing more insane stuff and yeah. I desperately need sleep c:

#paras #oc #AN ASK #THANK YOUUUUUUUUUU #bella jevasteen #lillian jevasteen #jenna mcallister #dylan game

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puffpasstea · 1 year

Text

A/N: hi friends! Just posting this requested one-shot. Please read the warnings before you check it out. Also, apologies for the weird formatting. Posting from mobile. Please let me know what you think!

Warnings: mentions of mental illness, self-harm, depression. If you are triggered by any of this, please exercise care and caution; it’s okay if you need to skip this one. I love you and please be good to yourself.

Request: So like imagine yn being addicted to self harm like small cuts on the palm so that they don't really get to be show that much and like harry doesn't know about this. One day harry got a cramp on his hand, so yn was applying the ointment on his hand and massaging it without realizing that the ointment will sting on her palms. After applying she was wincing and wincing, which h noticed and like you can think from here.

——

“Honey, I’m home!” Harry called out in a sing-song greeting, letting his gym bag drop to the floor in a dramatic thud. He set his keys back on the key hanger and followed the candle scent into the bedroom to find his girlfriend.

Her ears perked up at the sound of his voice coming from the entryway. He’d been gone all day and she’d missed him.

“Hello, darlin’” Harry smiled as their eyes locked in the bedroom mirror. She was in front of it, going through her skincare and getting ready for bed. She’d changed the bedsheets, lit candles, turned off most of the lights, she looked cozy and it made Harry’s heart melt.

She turned around, reaching her head upwards as he bent down, meeting her halfway to get a quick kiss. “Missed you.” He mumbled into her lips.

“How was your day?” She asked as she returned her attention to her serums and lotions, smiling at Harry through the mirror.

“Oh it was great! I had a lot of fun and it was good seeing everyone. Did you have a good day too?” He was a sweaty mess after a long day of playing soccer - or as he liked to correct her: football- with his friends. His curls, still damp with sweat, were clipped back, he wore two layers of Nike gym shirts, and soccer shorts, his knee-high socks, once white, were now muddy and stained grey. But even in his post-workout mess, she thought he looked perfect, especially the way he was smiling. The activity had clearly done him good.

“So, who won?” She asked, rubbing her moisturizer in circular motions onto her face.

“We did, of course!" Harry was rambling on about how it was a close call by halftime and they almost tied with the other guys a couple of times. Reliving the highlights as he recounted them, he looked like an excited little kid, but she couldn’t help but notice something as she watched his hand gestures in the reflective glass. Everything he’d said after she caught the cut on his hand meant nothing to her.

“What’s that?” She said, frowning at his moving hand.

“What’s what? Oh! That? Well, I, uhm, kind of fell when we were playing. Landed on top of my own hand. It’s nothing serious though! Just a couple of bruises, some superficial scrapes. Doesn’t even hurt that bad.”

“Oh my god, Harry!” She shook her head, immediately leaping to her feet and abandoning her skin products. “Let me see that!” She took his hand in hers, turning it over and examining his injury.

Harry was no stranger to these kinds of injuries. The occasional overzealous gym session, cramps from getting back into playing the guitar after a long break, acrobatics onstage gone slightly wrong, he was accustomed to it by now, but he loved watching her fuss over him. The care and attention she always gave him made him feel loved and spoiled, so he wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity for her to look after him.

“Don’t worry, baby. It’ll be good as new in a few days.” He reassured her when he noticed her running her fingers over the injury and clicking her tongue in disapproval.

“Gotta be more careful, Harry.” She mumbled under her breath. “Don’t want you getting hurt….let’s get it cleaned up.”

Harry tried to protest but she had already made up her mind. She dragged him into their main bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit and his muscle sprain cream. Harry made a suggestive joke about “playing doctor” and wink at her. She pretended to be over it, rolling her eyes and warning him not to get any ideas, but she secretly loved his silly jokes.

She’d managed to successfully clean his scraped skin to prevent it from getting irritated or infected, now, she just needed to apply some antiseptic before bandaging it up and massaging his hand. Unfortunately, she got too caught up in being his nurse that, for a moment, she unthinkingly forgot to watch out for her own secret scars. The antiseptic from Harry’s hand was quickly revealing them. The contact with her skin sending a burning feeling throughout her arm. She kept a straight face at first, determined not to flinch, move her hand away, or let her face show any signs of pain so that Harry might remain in the dark. But the longer she fiddled with Harry’s hand, the more of the sterilizing fluid clung to her palm and the harder it was to hide her pain.

“B-baby? You alright?” Harry’s eyes watched her carefully.

Shit. He’d caught on to her wincing.

“Mhm.” She pretended to be clueless, keeping her eyes on his hand to avoid having to face him.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” Harry persisted.

The closer he watched her, the faultier her act was. Finally, she withdrew her hand hissing in pain. “I-it’s nothing. Guess my skin’s cracked or something.” She bluffed, hoping he’d drop the subject.

Harry wasn’t buying it, though. Not when he literally just walked in on her lathering herself from head to toe with all kinds of skin products. He knew she took good care of herself. “Well, lemme see…” gently, it was his hand that was examining hers now. His face went white as a ghost when he saw the inside of her palm.

They stood there, in silence, for what felt like an eternity. She watched him look down at the scars, speechless. Eventually, she began to shake in his hands, knowing that the hiding was over. He knows now. Harry could obviously see and feel the trembling of her fingers, but he said nothing.

“B-baby? W-what’s, um, what’s all this?” She could tell from his voice that his question was just a courtesy he was giving her. He already knew the answer.

Even though she knew this is the moment that she’d been caught, some still desperate part of her persisted in her lies. She figured maybe his question was a way out of this conversation. He pretends not to know what he’s looking at, so she could pretend it’s not what he thinks, and this whole thing could be over. She said she’d just cut herself making dinner the other day, but Harry had more follow up questions. When was this? What was she doing? Where was he? Why didn’t she say anything? Those scars look deep. They look intentional. There’s more than one of them. The more holes he poked in her sorry excuse of a story, the harder it was to escape the inevitable. Finally, she broke down.

“I’m sorry, Harry, I’m so sorry….” She murmured through tears, her knees buckling underneath her, she dropped to the floor.

Without thinking, Harry immediately joined her on the bathroom floor, a hand on her shoulder.

He did his best to remain calm, but the truth is, a fire was burning in his chest. Even as he held her close, he couldn’t help but feel like they were oceans apart. How could he have been oblivious this whole time?! This had happened right under his nose. He had no idea how she was feeling, let alone what her feelings had led her to do to herself. This had had happened all the while they’d been going out with friends; she’d been visiting him at work; they’d been road-tripping across the country. Things were supposed to be fine. She was supposed to be okay. How come he couldn’t see it?!!

Harry knew his girlfriend had struggled. He knew her battle with depression was something that she’d dealt with all her life. Long before they’d ever met. She would occasionally even express not feeling great about herself, but, for the most part, whenever she confided in him, she spoke as if the worst of it had happened in the past. Like she was out of the woods now, things were better, more tolerable, manageable. She’d been evasive about the details, and he never pushed her to say more than she was comfortable with, not wanting her to relive those memories. He never imagined her feeling so in pain and so alone that she had to resort to hurting herself. Should he have pushed her to talk to him? Should he have said more? It was now dawning on him that, maybe in not asking her about it, he’d made himself unreachable. Given her the impression that she couldn’t talk to him. That, above all else, broke his heart. The idea that his girl could be laying right next to him every night, carrying such pain inside of her, while he slept soundly through the night.

He felt his own tears begin to spill, but he didn’t want to make this about HIS feelings. So he squeezed them tightly a few times and cleared his throat before finally speaking up.

“H-how long?”

She hated that question. It felt like he was interrogating her. Establishing a timeline of her crimes. Piecing together the details of her lies. She worried that if he knew, he’d be angry with her. Doubt her trust. “Does it matter?”

“Jus’ umm…not trying to make this about me, but..why- why? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Say what? ‘Hey, honey, just a heads up, I’ve been feeling so out of control and miserable that I’ve cut myself a few times, no worries though, should be good soon?’”

“No, why? Why let yourself feel so awful to the point where you had to do that without telling me how you feel? I-“ he paused, realizing that his tone was more accusatory than comforting. That’s not how he ever thought he would speak to her. He took several deep breaths, running through his mind for things to say. For what he would like to hear his partner say if he were in her shoes. For something meaningful. Something other than platitudes like “I’m here for you” and “you’re so brave” and “talk to me.” But he came up short.

“Why, y/n?” He was openly crying now. “You’re so beautiful. And kind. And smart. And you work so hard, and so many people love you.”

She was shaking her head with every word he spoke.

“No. No, I’m not. That’s the thing, Harry!” Her voice broke. “I- this- it isn’t me! This person you’re describing! That’s not who I am. I don’t know who she is, but she isn’t me. I feel like I’ve lied to you! To everyone! Everyone thinks I’m this great person. I’m not! I desperately want to be. I want to be normal. I want to be good. I try. I try so hard to be the kind of person that everyone thinks I am, and I hate that I am not. I’m just not. Everyday that I’m not, I feel like I’ve let everyone down. That I’m gonna be caught. Found out. And once people realize what a mess I am, they’ll be afraid of me. YOU’LL be afraid of me.”

“Is- is that why you never said anything?” Harry was incredulous. The words coming out of her mouth seemed so outrageous. He sniffled, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand.

“I- I don’t wanna be a burden to anyone. Don’t wanna add to anyone’s problems.” She exhaled loudly, mustering up whatever remains of courage she had left to make it through this conversation. “Everyone has problems, Harry! Fuck, I know that more than anyone. I want to make people’s lives better, not worse.”

Harry turned to look at her through tearful eyes. This was the first time that they’d looked one another in the eyes since sitting on the floor. He could see, clearly, that she believed the words that she was uttering. Just when he thought his heart couldn’t possibly shatter anymore, he felt it break again. She looked so small, helpless, lost in her thoughts. He knew that this was bigger than him. He wasn’t going to be able to fix it. And he certainly wasn’t going to make it all go away with one conversation. But he needed to at least try.

“Baby, I- the fact that you would ever think your pain would be a burden to me breaks my heart.” He finally said, shaking his head and pulling her in for a hug. Kissing the top of her head, he whispered in her ear “I love you, y/n, so much.”

Hearing him confess his affection should’ve been comforting. Who doesn’t want to hear their partner tell them that they love them? To her, it felt like a stab in the heart. “But, I’m no good for you. Im so broken, it’s-“

“Don’t you dare say that! Don’t ever say that, okay? Those scars don’t change anything. You’re still you. Your pain doesn’t make you any less beautiful, any less smart, any less kind…you’re perfect.”

She broke down, sobbing into his chest, his clothes muffling her cries. She heard him, listened to his heart beating as he spoke the words, but she’d been so alone and so in pain for long enough to feel like this kind of love didn’t apply to her. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the acceptance that Harry was offering. She couldn’t even come up with an adequate response.

“I don’t know what to say.” She finally spoke when her cries had let up.

“You don’t have to say anything, baby. Just promise me you’ll talk to me.”

“Harry- you can’t-“

“I’m not trying to. I’m not trying to fix it. I just want you to know that you can come to me. You can tell me how you feel. You don’t have to pretend to be okay when you’re not. Not for my sake.”

“You…really want that? You won’t be disappointed?”

“Never. Never ever. Promise me? Please, y/n, promise you’ll talk to me.”

“Promise.”

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