#I have witnessed history unfold | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

musicforastylesrestaurant · 4 months

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Hi! I don't know if you already have an idea for the birthday post, if you do feel free to ignore this...my favourite trope is dad!harry too...what if H has to go for an emergency meeting somewhere else out the country even before his birthday and he has to spend his birthday there too and he is bummed about it...the fmc can fly out with their daughter/son and when he is back from his meeting his room is all decorated and stuff and she tells him she asked jeff to cancel everything...and they do a bunch of fun stuff but at night, after dinner she and the baby surprise him with another baby or something and he is like best birthday ever, 30 is already amazing

Happy 30th Birthday, Baby.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - thank you so much to @missbearforfun for sending in this request, ive had had a fun time writing this, ive changed a few things up, so i hope that ive done it justice.

i can’t believe that my boy is 30….like i swear he was just auditioning for the x-factor yesterday. 🥹

word count - 4.4k

in which, harry gets called to do a meeting in italy, two days before his birthday, which means that he’ll be spending his 30th out there with just his manager jeff, what he doesn’t realise is that you, his darling wife, fly out to surprise him and hopefully give him the best birthday he’s ever had.

You’ve been in Harry’s life for just over ten years.

You’ve spent five of those years as boyfriend and girlfriend, two of those years as his fiancé, and now, this year will be leading up to the third year being each other's husband and wife.

The first birthday of his that you spent with him, was his 20th all the way back in 2014. He had organised an intimate get together at a restaurant full of all of his closest family and friends, and it was the first time that you would be turning up together, as an official couple seeing as the only people who knew about the two of you were his band mates and his mother,sister, father and step father.

It was also the night that he confessed to you that he loved you, and that you were the one person that he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with.

From that moment on, every birthday became a cherished chapter in your shared history.

Waking up in each other's arms has become a comforting tradition, marking the beginning of a day dedicated solely to celebrating Harry's existence. The warmth of those morning embraces symbolises the depth of your connection, a connection that has withstood the tests of time.

As the years unfolded, you've witnessed the evolution of Harry, both in age and character, yet the love between you two has remained unwavering.

From his 21st to his 30th birthday, you've made it a point to spend the day in a way that brings him joy. Whether it's exploring new places, indulging in his favourite activities, or simply relaxing together, the focus has always been on creating memories that reflect the essence of Harry.

Each birthday has become a canvas on which you paint moments of happiness and shared experiences.

You had spent every birthday with him, but for this one, it appeared to already be turning out in a way neither of you had expected.

A mere few days before Harry's anticipated birthday, an unexpected call from his manager, Jeff, sent ripples of disappointment through his plans. The urgency of an issue related to his beauty brand, Pleasing, required Harry's immediate attention in the Italy.

The brand we’re thinking of opening a pop-up shop over there, seeing as the country held so much adoration in both of your hearts, it was the place where you got married, the place where he proposed and where he now wanted his fans over there to have access to him and what he had to offer.

With flights already booked, he faced the heart-wrenching reality of having to leave just over two days before his special day. Devastation etched across his face as he contemplated the unforeseen disruption to the birthday celebration he had eagerly anticipated.

In a desperate attempt to reason with Jeff, Harry explained his deep desire to spend his birthday with you, sharing the disappointment that overshadowed the joy of the impending celebration.

However, the urgency of the matter prevailed, leaving Harry torn between personal desires and professional obligations. As his best mate and manager, Jeff empathised with Harry but emphasised the gravity of the situation, reinforcing the necessity of this unexpected journey.

Amidst the disappointment, you stepped in to comfort Harry, assuring him that celebrations could be postponed but his presence and well-being mattered most. You offered solace, reminding him that distance could not diminish the love and connection you shared.

The promise of a belated but equally meaningful celebration upon his return brought a glimmer of hope to the gloom that hung over his imminent departure.

You had promised him, that you would FaceTime him on his actual birthday and that you would both order the same takeaway that night and have a little over the phone date, just to celebrate this big milestone.

On the morning Harry was set to depart for Italy, the anticipation of his journey hung in the air. Dressed for travel, he stood before you with a small suitcase by the door.

Shoes on, cap snug, and sunglasses concealing his eyes, he exuded a mix of excitement and reluctance. Despite the January chill in London, the promise of Italy's warmth upon landing prompted him to prepare for a contrasting climate.

Your eyes held a silent plea as you stood before him, sorrow evident in your gaze.

"I wish I didn't have t’go," Harry admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

You nodded, understanding the weight of the situation, your silence echoing the unspoken emotions in the room.

Milo, your ten-month-old Rottweiler puppy, sensed the sombre atmosphere, wagging his tail as if trying to infuse joy into the moment.

Unable to contain your emotions, you wrapped your arms around Harry in a tight hug.

"I'll miss you so much," you whispered, your voice betraying the ache within. Harry's embrace tightened, and he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I'll miss y’more, m’love," he murmured, the sincerity in his words resonating with the depth of his emotions.

Crouching down to pet Milo, Harry spoke to the pup with a soft smile, "Take care of mummy for me, little buddy."

Milo responded with excited barks, seemingly understanding the impending absence.

Standing up, Harry looked into your eyes, his own reflecting a mixture of love and longing.

Your gaze locked with his, finding solace in the promise of a future reunion.

"We'll have the most amazing belated birthday celebration," you said, trying to inject positivity into the moment.

Harry smiled, his eyes reflecting gratitude.

"I can't wait f’that. Until then, stay strong f’me," he said, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

As the door closed behind him, the echo of his departure resonated through the silent space. Left with the imprint of his touch, the memory of his presence, and the anticipation of his return, you and Milo faced a home that suddenly felt emptier without him.

"I'll make sure t’send y’pictures from Italy," Harry called out from the hallway.

"And don't forget to spoil Milo a bit extra for me!" he added with a playful grin, the reassurance in his voice providing a small comfort amid the impending distance.

The day of his actual birthday, you woke up at seven am, which meant it was eight am for Harry.

It was a nice early face time call, in which you had called someone from the town near your shared beach house and got them to deliver flowers so they we’re scheduled to arrive whilst the two of you were calling, so you could see his face when he received them.

Little did he know, as the virtual celebration concluded, that you were already en route to Italy to surprise the love of your life.

His manager, Jeff, had orchestrated the clandestine journey, booking a flight that not only allowed your presence but accommodated Milo, your loyal puppy companion.

On the fairly empty flight, with just a few scattered passengers, you found solace in the quiet journey across the skies. Milo, nestled on the seat next to you, peacefully dozed off, completely unaware of the grand surprise awaiting his owner.

The hum of the plane engines provided a soothing backdrop as you envisioned the joy that would light up Harry's face when you appeared unexpectedly in celebration of his special day.

Upon landing in Italy, you and Milo were swiftly escorted off the plane by a discreet security team. The importance of maintaining the surprise for Harry became evident as the team efficiently navigated through the airport. The mission was clear: to whisk you away from the public eye, avoiding any chance of word spreading that Harry's wife had arrived.

Passing through passport control with just a carry-on bag in tow, the security team ensured a seamless transition. The anticipation heightened as you and Milo moved through the airport, surrounded by the subtle hum of secrecy. Every step taken was a careful manoeuvre to preserve the surprise and shield the unfolding celebration from prying eyes.

Exiting the airport, you were guided to a waiting jeep. The security team orchestrated a smooth transition, knowing that time was of the essence.

Jeff:

H just left for a meeting, so you’ve got at least an hour to get everything ready !!

As the jeep sped toward the villa, Jeff's text notification illuminated your phone screen. His message revealed that Harry was currently engrossed in a meeting, providing a valuable window of time to set up a birthday surprise.

The prospect of transforming the house into a beautiful haven of celebration filled you with excitement. Knowing you had at least an hour before Harry's return heightened the anticipation, and thoughts of his surprised expression fueled your determination.

The journey continued through the picturesque landscapes of Italy, the half-hour drive feeling like both an eternity and a heartbeat away from reuniting with Harry. Milo, sensing the energy, shifted restlessly in anticipation, adding an extra layer of warmth to the already charged atmosphere within the jeep.

The realization that the culmination of meticulous planning was drawing near only fueled your eagerness.

The mere thought of seeing Harry after two days of separation fueled your determination to make this surprise an unforgettable celebration of love and connection. The countdown to the reunion had begun.

"Here we are," the driver announced as the jeep came to a stop in front of the villa. You thanked him and handed over a ten-euro tip, expressing gratitude for the swift and discreet journey.

Grabbing Milo's leash and your bag, you stepped out into the Italian air, the scent of anticipation mingling with the promise of celebration.

As you approached the door, the distinct aroma of Harry's aftershave enveloped you, confirming his recent presence. A pair of his white vans neatly placed by the entrance hinted at the intimate details of his daily routine.

With a smile, you inserted the key into the lock, unlocking the door to a space filled with the essence of the man you dearly missed.

"Milo, we're home," you murmured to your furry companion, who eagerly bounded into the living room.

The atmosphere inside resonated with familiarity, and Milo, seemingly aware of the joyous occasion, leaped onto the sofa, his tail wagging in sync with the pulsating excitement in the air.

Upon stepping into the villa, you wasted no time. The suitcase that accompanied you served as a treasure trove of celebratory delights. With swift precision, you unzipped it, revealing an inflatable 3 and 0, along with vibrant banners that spelled out "Happy Birthday."

The living room became a canvas for your creativity, and the decorations unfolded in a dance of colors and joy.

Inflating the giant numbers, you strategically placed them to catch Harry's eye the moment he entered. The banners crisscrossed the room, creating a vibrant tapestry of celebration. The atmosphere transformed with each decoration, turning the space into a haven of love and festivity.

The decorating didn’t take long, maybe around half an hour, so that left you waiting, and each minute felt like hell.

You so badly just wanted him in your arms.

Seated in the midst of the festive setup, you pulled out your phone, eager to share the news of your safe arrival with your family. Fingers danced across the screen as you texted messages of reassurance and excitement, capturing the essence of this special moment.

The living room, now a symphony of color and joy, served as the backdrop to your messages, each tap echoing the anticipation of the grand birthday surprise awaiting Harry.

As you sat in the living room, engrossed in your phone, the jingling of keys outside signaled Harry's arrival. Swiftly, you rose from your seat, Milo by your side, his tail wagging in silent excitement.

Attempting to be as quiet as possible, you made your way to the entry hall, your heart pounding with anticipation. The festive atmosphere of the decorated living room served as a backdrop to the impending surprise.

Harry entered, shutting the door behind him with a sense of routine. His tote bag dropped to the floor, and in his initial distraction, he failed to notice the pair of women's shoes by the entrance.

His gaze scanned the surroundings briefly before turning away, only to snap back with wide eyes when he caught sight of you standing there.

His mouth parted in shock, a mixture of disbelief and joy washing over his face.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as Harry processed the unexpected presence before him. The shock gave way to a radiant smile, his eyes lighting up with genuine happiness. Milo's tail wagged furiously, mirroring the palpable joy in the room.

Harry's initial shock dissolved into pure joy as he stared at you standing in the entry hall. Without a moment's hesitation, he rushed over, gathering you into a tight embrace. The warmth of his arms enveloped you, an unspoken reassurance of the love that bridged the distance between you two. Your eyes welled up with tears, mirroring the emotion evident in his gaze.

"Happy birthday," you whispered, the words carrying the weight of your love and the joy of this surprise.

As Harry lifted his head, his lips sought yours in a cascade of affectionate kisses. Each press was a testament to the depth of the connection shared, a celebration of love that transcended the days of separation.

The room, filled with decorations and the silent witness of Milo, became a sanctuary for this spontaneous reunion.

In the midst of the kisses, Harry's laughter bubbled up, the sheer delight of the unexpected surprise washing over him.

"M’can't believe you're here," he admitted, his eyes sparkling with gratitude. Milo, sensing the joy, wagged his tail energetically, completing the tableau of love and celebration.

“I couldn't not see you on your birthday," you admitted with a warm smile, still wrapped in Harry's embrace.

"Milo missed his daddy so much that we had to come and surprise you." You winked playfully, a cheeky smile tugging at your lips. "And, well, maybe I missed you a bit too."

Harry's eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight.

"Y’really came all the way here just for me?" he asked, his voice filled with gratitude. Milo, sensing the joy in the room, barked in agreement, tail wagging enthusiastically.

Cupping his face in your hands, you responded, "Absolutely. Birthdays are meant to be celebrated with the ones you love, and we couldn't let a few miles keep us apart, now could we?"

“But I’ve got meetings the entire day,”he pouted, head getting thrown back slightly. “But I wanna spend the entire day with you.”

You played with the peach fuzz at the back of his neck. “Well it’s a good job I’ve cleared your schedule then, huh?”

“Wait,”he snapped his head over to yours from where he was staring lovingly at Milo. “So I’ve got the whole day with you?”

“We’ve got the whole day together, baby.” You confirmed, watching as his dimples appeared on his face.

In need of a refreshment, you and Harry migrated to the kitchen. As he poured himself an ice-cold glass of water, you settled at the kitchen island, nibbling on a cracker slathered with butter.

Looking at Harry, you asked, "Any cravings for today?"

He grinned and replied, "Actually, I've been craving a nice stroll around the town with Milo. Maybe we can stop for some ice cream and, perhaps, a cheeky bottle of rouge."

Harry's eyes sparkled with the prospect of a leisurely day. He reached for your hand, fingers intertwining, and continued, "What do you think, love?"

You offered a small smile, well aware that your current circumstances limited certain indulgences. "Sounds lovely," you responded, playing with the cross necklace around his neck. "I'm up for a walk and some ice cream.”

The wine….not so much.

/ /

As the day wore on, bathed in the warm glow of the Italian sun, you changed into a pair of comfortable denim shorts and one of Harry's shirts, embracing the casual charm of the town. The borrowed shirt hung loosely on your frame, carrying the familiar scent that provided a comforting connection to Harry.

Together, hand in hand, you and Harry strolled along the old streets, a timeless backdrop for the unfolding birthday celebration.

Milo, ever the enthusiastic companion, trotted alongside, his leash held firmly in Harry's hand. The cobbled streets echoed with the gentle sounds of your footsteps, creating a serene melody as you explored the charming corners of the town.

The quaint architecture and rustic charm of the surroundings added a picturesque touch to the shared moments of the day.

The narrow alleyways led you to hidden gems and inviting cafés, where the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sweet treats filled the air.

Each step carried with it the promise of discovery and the joy of simply being together. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm hue over the town, and the leisurely pace of the day allowed you to savor the simple pleasures of the moment.

As you continued your leisurely walk through the charming streets of Italy, Milo suddenly stopped in his tracks, his nose diligently sniffing around the ground. With an amused grin, you watched as he searched for just the right spot to do his business.

After a moment of consideration, Milo found the perfect place, and you turned to Harry with a playful expression.

"Happy birthday to you," you teased, handing Harry the poo bag with a grin. He laughed and fake gagged, taking the bag with a theatrical expression of horror.

Milo, seemingly oblivious to the lighthearted banter, continued with his canine duties, contributing his unique birthday gift to the day's events.

Continuing your walk through the enchanting town, you and Harry engaged in easy conversation, the cadence of laughter punctuating the air. The narrow streets echoed with the shared joy of the day, every step deepening the connection between you two. Silly anecdotes and playful banter flowed freely, turning the casual stroll into a delightful journey of shared moments.

As you meandered through the old streets, each corner unveiled new surprises, and every twist and turn became an opportunity for discovery. The simple act of being together, immersed in the charm of the surroundings, fueled the laughter and strengthened the bond between you and Harry.

As you continued your stroll through the charming town, the sight of a small bistro with a quaint outdoor seating area caught Harry's eye.

"How about we grab a bite there? it looks like a nice spot," he suggested, nodding toward the bistro. You agreed with a smile, appreciating the thought of a cozy meal in such a picturesque setting.

Heading towards the entrance, you were met by a friendly waiter.

"How can I help you?" he inquired. Harry responded,

"Just a table outside, please." The waiter, with a welcoming smile, gestured for you to follow, leading you to a charming table nestled in the outdoor seating area. The sun cast a warm glow, creating an inviting ambiance for a leisurely meal.

Seated at the quaint table, Milo by your side, the waiter handed you the menus. "Browse through these, a waiter will be over shortly, and let me know if there's anything else you need," he offered before leaving you to peruse the options. The aroma of delectable dishes wafted through the air, enhancing the anticipation of a delightful meal in the heart of the town.

Harry, glancing at the menu, looked up at you with a playful grin.

"What are you in the mood for, m’love?" he asked.

You.

Wait what?

As you and Harry enjoyed the cozy atmosphere of the bistro, another waiter, a friendly woman with a welcoming smile, approached your table.

"Good evening! Do you know what you'd like to order?" she inquired, pen poised above her notepad.

Harry, ever decisive, was the first to respond.

"I'll have a glass of y’house red wine, please," he said, glancing at the wine list.

Turning to you, the waiter asked, "And for you, ma'am?"

You flashed a smile and softly shook your head.

"I'll just go for a fresh lemonade, please." Attempting to steer away any suspicion, you added, "Feeling like something light today."

Harry, catching the cue, chimed in, "Just a light and easygoing evening, you know?"

He winked at you, his eyes filled with playful complicity.

The waiter jotted down your drink orders and nodded. "Certainly, a glass of red wine and a fresh lemonade. Now, what can I get for your main courses?"

You perused the menu, deciding on a chicken salad, and Harry opted for the salmon antipasto. You exchanged glances, sharing a silent agreement on the choices. As the waiter collected your menu choices, she remarked,

"Excellent choices! Your orders will be out shortly. Enjoy your evening!"

With the waiter's departure, Harry leaned in with a teasing grin.

"A fresh lemonade, m’love? Feeling like a saint today, are we?" he quipped, his playful banter laced with affection.

You chuckled, playing along. "Well, saints need a refreshing drink too, don't they? Besides, I'm saving room for that delicious chicken salad."

Harry laughed, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion. "Alright, alright, I won't question y’saintly decisions. S’just enjoy this lovely evening and the meal to come."

The waiter returned with your drinks about five minutes later, placing a glass of red wine in front of Harry and a refreshing lemonade for you. As she walked away, leaving you two to enjoy your beverages, you lifted your glass and initiated a spontaneous toast.

"Cheers to your birthday, my love," you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with affection. "I just wanted to take a moment to say how much I love you. I can't wait to spend eternity together, celebrating moments like these."

Harry's gaze softened, and he blinked his glass against yours.

"To eternity and beyond," he replied, his voice filled with warmth. "M’the luckiest person to have you by m’side. Here's to many more birthdays and unforgettable moments together."

The bistro's ambiance embraced the intimate exchange, and you continued to express your love and appreciation for Harry.

"You make every day special, but today, on your birthday, I want it to be extra magical for you," you confessed, your sincerity echoing in the quiet moments between sips of the refreshing lemonade.

Harry's smile widened, and he reached across the table to gently squeeze your hand. "Having y’here is the best gift I could ever ask for. Every moment with you is magical, and m’grateful for it all."

/ /

As the early evening settled around the villa, you found yourselves back in the comforting haven of your shared space. In the bathroom, bathed in a soft glow, you stood before the mirror, carefully removing mascara and eyeliner.

The simple act of cleansing away the day's makeup was a routine that marked the transition from daytime adventures to the quiet moments of the evening.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Harry lay on the bed, Milo nestled at his feet. He absentmindedly scratched at the short growth of hair on his head, a subtle reminder of a recent decision to shave it off.

The room radiated with a sense of tranquility as you each indulged in the rituals that marked the end of the day.

Wearing one of Harry's shirts that enveloped you in the familiar scent of him, you busied yourself in the bathroom, preparing a late evening birthday surprise.

The soft rustling sounds of your movements echoed against the backdrop of Harry's contemplative scratching, creating a harmony of shared space and intimate connection.

With a soft smile gracing your lips, you glanced at yourself in the bathroom mirror before deciding it was time to return to the bedroom.

Your hands were discreetly behind your back, holding a late evening birthday surprise for Harry. As you stepped into the bedroom, Harry, already seated on the bed, noticed your presence and sat up, beckoning you with open arms.

"I want a cuddle," he declared, his eyes twinkling with a playful warmth. Unable to resist his endearing request, you let out a soft giggle at his baby-like antics.

Playfully, you approached the bed as he beckoned you forward.

Crawling onto the bed next to him, you let yourself be enveloped in his arms. You laid your head on his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart echoing comfort and love.

The anticipation of the surprise gift still hidden behind your back added an extra layer of excitement to the intimate moment.

"I missed you," Harry murmured, his voice a gentle caress. You pressed a kiss over his heart, savoring the warmth of the connection. His arms tightened around you, embracing the familiar comfort of being close.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at Harry with a warm smile, saying, "I've got one last present for you. Close your eyes."

Harry hesitated for a moment, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, before obediently shutting his eyes. With gentle steps, you moved towards him, the late evening's golden glow casting a soft ambiance around you.

In your hands, you held a delicate gift, and with a mix of hesitation and tenderness, you softly placed it in Harry's hands.

"Okay, open your eyes," you instructed, your heart fluttering with a secret that had the power to change your lives forever.

Harry blinked his eyes open, and as he glanced down at his hands, a flicker of confusion passed over his face. Then, his gaze landed on the small object nestled in his palms.

It took a moment for the realisation to sink in, and when he saw what it was, his eyes widened, and he gasped.

"What... is this?" Harry stammered, his voice shaky with emotion.

His trembling fingers picked up the small pregnancy test.

The room fell silent as the weight of the revelation settled in. Harry's eyes locked onto the test, and tears immediately welled up.

"S’this for real?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "This isn't some sick joke, right?"

You shook your head, a mixture of joy and vulnerability in your gaze. Leaning forward, you pressed your forehead against his, tears streaming down both your cheeks.

"It's true, H. I'm eleven weeks pregnant," you whispered, the magnitude of the moment engulfing you both in a wave of overwhelming emotions.

Harry's breath caught, and he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes.

"I... we're going to be parents?" he uttered, a mix of disbelief and elation in his voice.

A tender smile graced your lips, and you nodded. "Yes, Harry. We're going to be parents."

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

"I can't believe it. M’going to be a dad," he mumbled against your hair, his voice filled with a joy that echoed through the room.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Harry leaned forward, his hand gently pressing against your stomach as if trying to connect with the new life growing within.

The tender touch conveyed a depth of love that words could only strive to express. His lips found yours in a sweet, lingering kiss, and as he pulled back, he whispered, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

“This is the best birthday ever,”he spoke, chocking out a soft sob. “Thank you m’love, thank you, thank you for making us parents.”

You softly placed your hands on his cheeks to get him to look at you, and when his green eyes met yours, you smiled at him tenderly.

“Happy 30th Birthday, Baby.”

511 notes · View notes

herlondonboy · 4 months

Text

arms tonite, clarisse la rue

summary: I cry in the afterlife I cry hard because I have died, and you're alive I try to escape afterlife I try hard to get back inside your arms alive VERY loosely based off of this request

warnings: mc death obviously, sad everyone, my lack of knowledge on the battle of manhattan because i read the books 7 years ago

wc: 1.7k

you sit against the ancient tree, the bark rough against your back, a painful reminder of the chaos that unfolded. your fingers clutch your stomach, the pain intensifying with each passing moment, a stark contrast to the distant roars of battle. your chest throbs where the drakon's claws had viciously slashed you moments ago.

the air is thick with tension as you watch your friends and family, armed and determined, engage in the fierce battle of manhattan. the clash of weapons, the echoes of spells, and the monstrous roars resonate through the air, creating a cacophony that drowns the world around you.

your gaze shifts from one familiar face to another, each caught in the chaos of combat. the weight of your injuries pales in comparison to the heaviness in your heart as you realise the magnitude of the conflict. the realisation that more lives are at stake than just your own sends a shiver down your spine.

tears blur your vision as you witness the sacrifices being made for the greater good. the ground beneath you trembles with the resonance of battle, a painful reminder of the fragile line between victory and defeat. you wipe away the tears, a silent vow to honour those who fight alongside you.

despite the searing pain and the exhaustion that threatens to consume you, you summon the strength to stand. your every step is a battle against your own limitations. as you move towards the frontline, determination replaces despair. the stakes are too high, and you refuse to let the sacrifices of those around you be in vain.

with each step, you feel the weight of responsibility on your shoulders. the tree, once a refuge, now seems like an anchor holding you back. but you press forward, driven by a desire to protect the ones you love.

the battlefield unfolds before you like a tapestry of chaos, but you find a rhythm within it. your own pain becomes a fuel, transforming into a relentless determination. you join the fight, your weapon cutting through the air as you face the challenges that threaten your world.

in the midst of battle, you catch glimpses of your friends, their resilience mirroring your own. the scars on your chest throb in sync with the beating heart of the battle, a constant reminder of the price of survival. yet, you fight on, not just for yourself, but for the future of those you hold dear.

the battle of manhattan rages on, a testament to the strength of the human spirit in the face of adversity. and as the dust settles, you stand amidst the fallen, a survivor, a witness to the sacrifices that define the heart of heroes.

locked in the chaos of battle, your eyes meet clarisse's across the tumultuous field. the concern etched on her face speaks volumes, a reflection of the scars left by the loss of silena beauregard. the memory of silena's sacrifice lingers, and clarisse fears history may repeat itself.

summoning every ounce of energy within you, you manage a reassuring smile for clarisse, a silent promise that you'll make it through. the connection between you two transcends the battlefield, a source of strength that fuels your determination.

as you let out a ferocious battle cry, it echoes through the turmoil, a proclamation of defiance against the forces that threaten your world. the resonance of your voice, joined by the battle cries of others, creates a symphony of resistance that shakes the very foundations of the battleground.

with renewed vigour, you charge back into the fray, your weapon slicing through the air as you engage with the enemies that stand before you. clarisse fights by your side, a formidable duo that refuses to be broken by the looming shadows of kronos.

the battlefield becomes a dance of blades and magic, each movement a calculated effort to turn the tides of war. your connection with clarisse strengthens your resolve, and together you weave through the chaos, fighting back the forces of darkness.

clarisse's concern transforms into determination as she witnesses your tenacity. the bond between you becomes a beacon of hope in the midst of despair. silena's sacrifice, though painful, serves as a reminder of the strength that arises from unity and love.

amidst the clash of weapons and the eruption of spells, you and clarisse carve a path forward. the battlefield is a canvas of struggle, but your shared commitment to each other becomes a driving force that propels you through the hardships.

as the battle unfolds, you find moments to lock eyes with clarisse, exchanging silent reassurances that you're still standing, that the darkness hasn't claimed you. the weight of her worry lessens with each shared glance, replaced by a growing confidence in your resilience.

the battle of manhattan rages on, but your bond with clarisse becomes a source of inspiration for those around you. the echoes of your battle cry reverberate through the hearts of allies, spurring them on to face the challenges that lie ahead. together, you fight not just for survival but for a future where love triumphs over the shadows that threaten to engulf the world.

tears stream down your face, mixing with the dirt and blood on your cheeks. the pain radiates through your body, each breath a struggle. clarisse's hands, stained with the battle's residue, continue to apply pressure to the wound, her movements desperate and unyielding.

"sorry," she mutters through her own sobs, her voice breaking with every apology. but despite the pain, you recognised the strength in her touch, the fierce determination to defy the cruel hand fate has dealt.

you wince as her hands press against the wound, the searing pain intensified by the pressure. your breath catches, and you find it harder to form words. finally, you manage to muster the strength to speak, "sto... stop!"

clarisse's hands fall to the side, and she looks at you with a mix of sorrow and regret. you can see the pain in her eyes as she watches you, helpless in the face of impending loss. "stop, please," you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible over the battlefield's cacophony.

she apologises again, her hands cradling your head as if trying to shield you from the cruel reality. you can feel her trembling, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you. in this shared vulnerability, the world around you seems to fade, leaving only the raw, painful connection between two souls entwined by love and loss.

as the battle continues to rage, clarisse stays by your side, her gaze fixed on your face. the chaos unfolds around you, a stark contrast to the stillness of this intimate, heartbreaking moment. in the hushed pauses between your sobs, you confess the fear that grips your heart, the terror of facing the unknown, of losing everything you hold dear.

"clarisse, i’m scared," you admit, your voice a fragile whisper.

clarisse's eyes well up with tears, but she brushes them away with the back of her hand. "you're not going anywhere," she insists, though the lie hangs heavy in the air, a bittersweet attempt to offer comfort in the face of inevitable tragedy.

the battlefield's rhythm continues, a cruel reminder of life's relentless march forward. you feel the grip of mortality tightening, each breath becoming shallower. clarisse leans in, her forehead touching yours, a final act of closeness in the fleeting moments that remain.

in the quiet between the clashes of war, your final breath escapes you. clarisse's hands still cradle your head, her eyes closed, as if trying to hold onto the fragile threads of your presence. the battlefield's chaos, now distant, becomes the backdrop to a heartbreaking silence.

clarisse stays there, lost in a mix of grief and disbelief. the world around her continues to turn, but in that stillness, she remains with you, holding onto the memory of love and loss amidst the echoes of battle.

clarisse, fueled by the searing pain of your loss, rises from the ground, her eyes reflecting the torment that lingers within. the battlefield, now stained with the blood of the fallen, becomes the canvas upon which she paints her grief and rage. without you to return to, her actions are untethered, reckless in the face of her newfound solitude.

she charges into the fray with a ferocity unmatched, each swing of her weapon cutting through the enemy lines. the air crackles with the energy of her relentless assault, a testament to the storm of emotions that rages within her. clarisse fights not only for victory but to drown out the haunting echoes of your final moments.

as she carves a path through the chaos, a determination burns in her eyes, a fire fueled by the memory of your courage. the world around her blurs, and she becomes a force of nature, unyielding in her pursuit of justice. her every movement is a declaration that your sacrifice will not be in vain.

the battle rages on, and as percy confronts kronos, the culmination of their struggles unfolds. in the aftermath of percy's victory, clarisse stands amidst the wreckage, alive but changed. the victory is bittersweet, and the reality of a world without you sets in.

chris rodriguez, battle-weary and scarred, kneels beside clarisse. he sees the turmoil in her eyes, the weight of a heart burdened with grief and guilt. without a word, he offers her a silent comfort, a presence that understands the scars etched into the soul.

clarisse, attempting to remain stoic, fights against the torrent of emotions threatening to consume her. but as the battlefield falls into an uneasy silence, she crumbles. tears stream down her face, a torrent of pain and regret released in a torrential downpour.

"i couldn't do it," she chokes out between sobs. "the one thing i was born to do, and i couldn't protect them." the realisation of her perceived failure gnaws at her, leaving her vulnerable in the aftermath of the war.

chris, with a gentleness unexpected from a seasoned warrior, places a hand on her shoulder. he understands the depth of her grief, having faced his own demons. in the quiet aftermath, they share a moment of shared sorrow, acknowledging the harsh reality of a world that demands sacrifices, even from those who fight with everything they have.

as the first light of dawn breaks over the battlefield, clarisse rises from her emotional abyss, a survivor forged in the crucible of loss. the scars of battle may fade, but the wounds of the heart linger, a reminder that even in victory, the cost can be immeasurable.

you cried that night. because you died in the arms of your lover, and it couldn't have been more perfect.

#clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse my beloved #clarisse la rue #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse pjo #elijah writes #lyric fic #angst #YIPPEE #please reblog

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incognit0slut · 9 months

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Right Kind of Wrong (12)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer gets closer to the truth while she feels suffocated by the situation. wc: 4.3k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA

a/n: Let me give you a long part as a token of my apology for being a slow writer. I hope this was worth the wait

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

"WE BELIEVE WE ARE DEALING WITH A MALE OFFENDER IN HIS LATE 20s TO EARLY 30s," Aaron Hotchner announced, his voice loud and jarring. "Based on the crime scenes, the Unsub doesn't have a lot of experience as they were most likely done in a moment of rage."

The team stood in front of the bullpen, facing a room full of officers and agents scattered along the space. Pens clicked and notepads rustled around them as everyone prepared to add insights to their unfolding narrative.

Rossi, who stood by the evidence board, skimmed his eyes across the room. "It suggests someone who is impulsive and might have difficulty controlling urges. This could also be a sign of an underlying mental illness."

"It's likely that there is some kind of history there, either of abuse or trauma in their childhood," JJ added. "It seems that the Unsub may have difficulty connecting with or relating to others and may be socially isolated as a result. He would mostly like to keep to himself."

Spencer took a step forward and carried on with their profile of the unidentified suspect. "The Unsub might also have grown up in a deeply religious environment. Their beliefs may have become twisted and distorted, leading them to believe that they possess a unique calling to carry out their crimes as a way of punishment."

"Based on the victims, the Unsub has targeted specific people whom they believe have harmed one of our witnesses," Morgan added, his voice seeming to turn deeper as he continued, "Y/n L/n."

A jolt of electricity surged through Spencer's consciousness. The human mind really was a powerful thing. Somehow the simple sound of her name projected the memories he had of her and suddenly he was seeing her face, her radiant smile, her beautiful eyes—he was seeing her so clearly as if she were standing right before him.

But then Emily moved past him, jolting him awake from his reverie as she bumped against his shoulder. "The Unsub has a sense of loyalty to her that they are acting out these crimes as a desire for retribution on her behalf. They might believe that they have a connection or some kind of relationship with Ms. L/n."

"We believe the Unsub might know her personally," Hotch addressed, his eyes, sharp and penetrating, scanning around him. "Go through places where the witness is most likely to go. This could be her neighborhood, workplace, daily commute, and so on."

The atmosphere seemed to shift as he finally dismissed the room. Everyone rose from their seats, each one heading to their respective posts and assignments. It didn't take long for the phones to ring in the background, followed by the constant shuffle of feet as the entire space started to come alive.

And as Spencer turned back to his desk, a familiar man pushing the glass doors of the office suddenly caught his attention. His steps faltered while the man looked around the room as recognition hit him. Spencer walked over, addressing him as one of the witnesses. "Mr. Adler?"

The other man blew out a sigh of relief. "Eric, please." He entered the office and gave Spencer a look. "The people downstairs told me I could find you here."

"You were looking for me?" He frowned. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I hope so," Eric replied. "Has there been any missing person report lately?"

The confusion on his face grew prominent at the question. "Not that I know of. Why? Is someone you know missing?"

"A coworker of mine hasn't shown up to work and I can't contact any of his family members," he explained. "I'm starting to get worried."

"What's his name?"

"Oliver Walsh."

Having an eidetic memory helped him recall the name easily. His mind went through all the information he gathered these past few days and remembered the exact name written on the list of employees. "When did you last see him?"

"Three—no, four days ago. He left work looking very troubled."

Spencer's brow was furrowed, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on Eric's. "Troubled?"

Eric nodded. "He seemed distracted."

"Do you have any idea why he acted the way he did?"

"No," he responded. And then it suddenly happened. His eyes, previously engaged in maintaining eye contact, drifted upward for a fleeting second. It was as though a switch had been flipped in his mind and the gears of his memory whirred to life. "Although he did seem to act different that day... especially towards Y/n."

His stomach churned. A subtle tremor coursed through his limbs, betraying the unease that was slowly but unmistakably creeping into his consciousness. "...Y/n?"

"You remember her, right? She was with me the night it happened."

Remember her? She was the only person he couldn't stop thinking about. Spencer cleared his throat and leaned forward. "I'm aware Ms. L/n was also a witness."

"Well, Oliver has been fixated on her for so long, everyone in the office knows this. Y/n mostly thinks of it as a joke but I don't think Oliver sees it the same way as she does."

"And something happened between them on the day you last saw him?"

"I'm not sure." Eric sighed. "I saw them talking after work hours, and by the looks of it, I think Y/n was pissed at him." He then crossed his arms, his brows in deep concentration as he seemed to be recalling that day. "She looked like she was under a lot of stress, actually."

"Did you hear what they were talking about?"

"No. But after that, Oliver didn't seem like himself anymore. Then he didn't come to work the next day..." Eric trailed off, his eyes casting down before he mumbled, "I still don't know where he is now."

Spencer's mind suddenly became a whirlwind of calculated chaos, connecting the dots with lightning precision. His heart raced in his chest, pounding out a rhythm of urgency that echoed in his ears. There was no room for hesitation, no luxury of second-guessing.

He needed to move fast.

"Emily!" He called out as he saw his friend walking past them, quickly stopping her pace at the mention of her name. "Can you help Mr. Adler file a missing person report?"

"Uh..." she looked between the two men, uncertainty written across her face. There were questions lingering at the tip of her tongue but she stopped herself when she saw the urgent look Spencer was throwing at her. "Of course," she decided to agree, her attention shifting to the other man. "Right this way."

With a swift, purposeful stride, Spencer left them behind, his footsteps echoing the urgency that had taken hold of him. His heart was still racing when he walked down the corridor, quickly making his way to the room down the hall.

The door swung open with a resolute push, and he entered the room, his senses on high alert. "Garcia."

"I wasn't doing anything!" The woman sitting before him shrieked, closing the window tabs on the screen in front of her. Usually, Spencer would tease her on how unprofessional it was to be doing something else that wasn't related to work, but he didn't have the time to engage in playful banter.

Spencer stepped behind her, placing a hand on the back of her chair. "Garcia, I need you to find Oliver Walsh for me."

She wasted no time. Her fingers danced across the keyboard with a rapid, almost feverish intensity. "Oliver... Walsh..." The soft clatter of keys echoed in the room as she navigated through files and databases. "There are too many Oliver Walsh in this country."

"He works at the same company as Y/n."

"Should've mentioned that sooner." Her eyes scanned lines of text, images, and documents in front of her. "Bingo. Oliver Conrad Walsh was born on 18th December 1991 as an only child—wait, look at this. His family was part of The Haven Hill... a sanctuary of unwavering faith and profound tranquility?"

"Is it some kind of a cult?"

"I don't think so." Her eyes landed on an old article buried within the archives and clicked on the link before a picture of a worn-out brochure greeted them. "Prospective members are welcomed into Haven Hill, a secluded and serene enclave where faith and tradition unite. It seems like a very tight-knit community with a very religious belief—oh!"

Her fingers moved as she navigated through digital records. "Reid..."

"What is it?"

The screen suddenly displayed a grim history of illicit activities and misdeeds, a virtual breadcrumb trail leading them closer to the truth.

"Oliver Walsh was far from being a saint albeit growing up in a religious environment. Along with his group of friends, he was constantly rebelling ever since a very young age. He had to do a lot of community service for it too; underage drinking, burglary, public disturbances—oh dear."

"Attempt sexual assault?" Spencer read out loud.

"...a group of underage boys was proved guilty of trying to violate a fourteen-year-old girl on school grounds—"

"Garcia," Spencer stopped her, not wanting to listen to the rest of the story. "Give me his current address."

"Already on it," she responded, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Spencer's heart pounded in his chest. He couldn't believe this, the suspect was no longer a shadowy figure; they were becoming real, tangible, and within his grasp. Then his eyes caught the shot of the man on the screen. A jolt of recognition surged through him as he scrutinized the suspect's image on the screen. The face staring back at him carried a haunting familiarity.

Memories raced through his mind like flickering images from the past. He remembered him, he always remembered people's faces, and that man right there was the same man he had seen in Y/n's house that afternoon. There was a huge chance this was all a coincidence.

But there was also a possibility of Oliver Walsh being the Unsub.

He didn't know which one was true, but what he did know was that he needed to find out the truth.

The sudden, shrill ring of his phone shattered the intensity of the moment. It was a jarring intrusion, snapping him back to the present. With a swift, almost automatic motion, Spencer reached for the device and answered the call without looking away from the screen. "Yes?"

"Agent Reid," the person on the other line greeted, their words rushed in a moment of panic. "I can't find her."

Spencer pulled his phone away from his face and glanced at the caller ID. Officer Anderson. A sense of relentless panic coursed through him as the realization hit like a lightning bolt. He felt a knot tighten in his stomach, a visceral reaction to the gravity of the call.

"What do you mean you can't find her?"

"I—" There was a sigh. "I-I was watching inside my car and I somehow ended up sleeping. She's nowhere inside the house now—"

"Did you call her?"

"She left her phone in the kitchen."

At that moment, he was acutely aware of every heartbeat, every pulse of blood coursing through his veins. Panic resounded through his thoughts, casting a dark shadow over him. It was a visceral, gut-wrenching sensation that threatened to paralyze him like the ground had suddenly shifted beneath his feet.

"I apologize, Agent Reid."

But then anger coursed through his body. He was suddenly angry—Angry at the situation, angry at the Unsub, angry at the officer who couldn't seem to do his one simple job. His jaw clenched, his knuckles turned white as he gripped the phone tighter, and his eyes flashed with fury.

"Being sorry isn't going to help you find her," he snapped. He then straightened himself. "I'll be there in ten."

"What happened?" Garcia whispered, noticing the sudden tension in his shoulder.

Spencer shoved back his phone and turned to her. "Garcia, I need you to inform the others, I have to go."

"What?!" She yelped, watching as he turned away from her. "Right now? Where are you going?"

But her question was left unanswered as he bolted out of the door.

There was no other way to explain what being followed by a disguised officer felt like. It was suffocating. Even everything felt suffocating these days, and when she meant everything, Y/n really meant everything.

At first, the idea of protection had offered comfort, but now it was an oppressive weight that bore down on her shoulders. Everywhere she turned, a shadow loomed, an unwelcome reminder of the loss of her freedom. The suffocating sensation was inescapable, restricting her every movement.

The constant surveillance had pushed her to the brink of stress and manifested in the form of tension that coiled within her, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. Her patience wore thin and the weight of anxiety rested heavy on her chest. One moment she was on the verge of tears, the next, she was snapping with sharp words, irritable and sullen.

She really needed a break.

"You should go to the gym," Sandy had suggested the other day. "It might help relieve the stress."

After debating whether it was a good idea to visit the gym when she couldn't even remember the last time she stepped foot on a treadmill, she finally decided to slip out of the house. She walked over to the black car she already grew familiar with and stood by the window—only to find Officer Anderson fast asleep behind the wheels.

A pang of guilt tugged at her, but the allure of temporary freedom was too strong to resist. It was an unexpected opportunity, a rare moment of freedom dangling before her like a tempting prize. Was it wise to leave without informing him? Probably not. But she couldn't imagine herself working out—all awkward, tired, and sweaty—with Officer Anderson watching her from the corner.

So silently, she retraced her steps. Her pulse quickened with a mix of trepidation and exhilaration as she walked away. It would be fine, she had assured herself. She would be back before he realized she was even gone. And with that thought in mind, she quickly made her way to the closest gym around the corner.

The place felt both familiar and foreign as she navigated the equipment, but she finally found her place in an exercise routine. Her muscles protested the unaccustomed effort, but with each movement, she could feel the tension slowly dissipating. It wasn't until she could barely feel her limbs anymore that she stopped and left the place.

Even though her body was aching from pushing her body to its limit, she did feel slightly better. Her steps also did feel lighter when she walked back to her home, and her mind felt calmer, and less chaotic than it did when she left her house. But as she approached her street, a knot of unease tightened in her stomach.

The evening's fading light cast long, ominous shadows that seemed to reach out and embrace her front door, which stood ajar. It was an unexpected sight, one that sent a chill down her spine. Two things flashed into her mind at that very moment. One, she realized Officer Anderson was nowhere in sight. His usual parked car looked very much abandoned with no one inside the vehicle. Two, she could probably die if she entered her house alone in this state.

Maybe she should call the police. Maybe she should call Spencer... Yeah right, she didn't even have his number. Maybe she should just call Agent Jareau. Or Agent Prentiss. Yes, that would be a wiser option than to—shit. She clutched her empty pockets.

She didn't even bring her phone to begin with.

She cursed to herself. This was a bad, bad decision. She was probably going to regret this, but she couldn't just stand there and do nothing. So very cautiously, she approached her house, her senses on high alert.

As she pushed the door open wider, it revealed a slice of the dimly lit interior. She couldn't help but hold her breath as she stepped over the threshold, her footsteps hesitant, almost reverent, on the creaking floorboards.

She stepped deeper into her home and slowly entered the dimly lit kitchen. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw a figure standing shrouded in shadows, a silhouette in the gloom. A gasp of shock emitted through her lips, but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, recognition washed over her like a tidal wave.

"Officer Anderson!" She yelled, placing a hand over her heart. "You scared me!"

"Ms. L/n," he breathed out, his expression softening when he saw her. "Where have you been?"

Guilt washed over her as she noticed the concern in his eyes but she quickly dismissed it, stepping further into the room, and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. "I went to the gym."

"Why didn't you tell me? I'm supposed to accompany you—"

"You were asleep, I didn't want to wake you."

"You should've woken me up, Ms. L/n."

"You looked like you could use some sleep," she mentioned before glancing at the clock perched on the wall. "I was only gone for like an hour, it's not a big deal."

Officer Anderson looked like he wanted to argue with her, but stopped himself before letting out a sigh. "Can you please inform me whenever you step out of the house, even when I might be asleep?"

His concerned gaze met hers as he turned to her, a mixture of relief and worry in his eyes. Guilt twisted in her chest as she nodded. "Alright, I will."

"And please bring your phone with you at all times."

Her eyes snapped towards the device sitting on the counter. "I did forget to bring it with me, I'm sorry."

With a nod, the officer excused himself, giving her a moment of privacy to collect her thoughts. She watched him go, his retreating figure a testament to his dedication, despite the surprise of her brief absence.

Feeling overwhelmed by the mix of emotions—being scrutinized by an authority, being a potential target of a serial killer still on the loose—she retreated to her room, seeking solace in the familiar confines of her private space. She quickly peeled off her clothes which clung to her body from all the sweat and stepped into her bathroom.

The sound of running water filled the room as she turned on the shower, its warmth a soothing embrace. Steam enveloped her, and as the water cascaded over her body, the tension that had coiled within her began to unravel. Under the gentle caress of the water, she closed her eyes. Her shoulders trembled with the tension she had carried for so long, the weight of guilt, responsibility, and emotions too complex to unravel.

How had things turned the way it did? A few weeks ago her life seemed normal, yet now she was linked to a crime with her name at the center of it. This felt so unfair. Why her? Why now? Wh—

Bang!

She opened her eyes.

What was it now?

It sounded... it sounded like a thud coming from somewhere in her house.

The sudden interruption jolted her from the sanctuary of the shower. Her heart raced as she hastily wrapped a towel around herself and emerged from the bathroom, water droplets glistening on her skin. The door to her room suddenly wrenched open with force before a figure she last expected walked in.

"What the—Spencer!" She gasped, not believing who she was seeing. "What the hell?!"

His gaze met hers, and she saw something in his expression that sent a shiver down her spine. It was an anger she hadn't seen before, a storm brewing beneath the surface of his usual calm demeanor. His jaw was clenched, and his normally warm eyes were steely and cold.

"Are you crazy?" He suddenly snapped.

"Me?" She wailed, tightening the towel around her body. "Are you crazy? What are you even doing here?"

"What were you thinking going out without notice?" Spencer's tone was incredulous, his anger unabated. "Without informing Officer Anderson?"

So this was why he was here? To confront her reckless action perhaps?

She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "He looked like he needed the sleep after constantly watching me with little to no rest."

Spencer's frustration deepened, his brows furrowing. "He's assigned to you to keep you safe. You can't just disappear like that, it's irresponsible."

"Well excuse me for being considerate," she retorted.

"You were being reckless."

"No," she argued. "I was being thoughtful."

"Why are you not taking this seriously?" His voice grew sharper, a desperate attempt to make her understand as he stalked towards her. "Can't you understand you were putting yourself at risk?"

"I was only gone for an hour."

"Something could've happened!"

"But nothing did!"

She met his frustration with a defiant glare, holding her ground as he approached her, his tall, intimidating frame only stopping when he was directly in front of her. She saw his eyes drift down her body before pinning his gaze on her face again.

"Y/n, I need you to be safe."

"I am safe! I've been safe ever since you guys put someone to watch over me. I've been safe ever since the same person has been following me everywhere I go, which if you haven't caught on my sarcasm, has made me feel more like in prison than actually feeling protected." Her voice was tinged with frustration as she squared her shoulders, refusing to back down. "It's like I'm being controlled."

"It's not about controlling you, it's about ensuring that nothing bad happens to you."

"I was simply gone for an hour, Spencer," she reminded him again. "No need to go all dramatic over it."

Then in the blink of an eye, the heated tension that had filled the room seemed to snap, leaving them both breathless and disarmed. But instead of reacting with anger or shouting, Spencer's frustration found a different outlet.

"Why are you not fucking listening to me?"

And in a sudden and unexpected gesture, he cupped her face in his hands. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment, filled with a mix of emotions too complex to name. And then, in a burst of raw and unspoken desire, he leaned in and crashed his lips on her.

She was too stunned to speak, too stunned to respond. There was nothing else she could do but to give in his advance, because dear god, it felt too good to have his mouth moving against hers again. Spencer had kissed her many times before, but not like this. Not this rough. She could even feel the frustration seeping from his body as his lips moved against hers with urgency.

He continued to kiss her, biting hard at her bottom lip, teeth gnashing against the soft flesh of it as a rumbling noise vibrated deep in his chest. Each time she gasped in response at his teeth, his tongue forced its way into her mouth and lapped so mercilessly that she was left desperate for air each time he returned to assaulting her with his teeth and lips.

"Is this what it would take for you to listen?" He growled against her mouth. "Is this what you want?"

Speechless, she responded to his ardor with a fervor of her own, her body leaning into his, fingers tracing the contours of his face. She continued to stare up at him, trying to quickly piece together what was going on, though she nevertheless found herself aroused. It was as if their desire, long suppressed by their arguments and differences, had suddenly ignited, leaving them both powerless to resist the pull of passion.

"Answer me," he barked out.

"Yes," she finally breathed out. "Yes."

Releasing her face, his hands rose in between them. Her eyes dropped down, watching as he gripped her towel with so much force before he ripped it off her body in one swift movement, throwing the material onto the floor.

His eyes roamed over her body, tracing every curve and contour with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. His hands traced over her sides before he gripped onto her hips, tugging her towards him desperately. "I won't be able to restrain myself."

She knew what he meant. She was acutely aware of the tension seeping from his body, all the anger, all the frustration. She understood how hard these past few days had been for him, she could even feel it from the taught in his muscles. He was tensed and from the way he was looking at her with hooded eyes, he needed a release.

And so did she.

The intensity of the moment had ignited a different kind of fire within her, and her previous anger and frustration began to fade away, which was why she found one of her hands caressing his cheek, pulling him closer as he leaned his forehead against hers. "Then don't," she whispered. "Use me."

His eyes snapped to her.

"You can use me, Spencer," she assured him. "Use me in any way you want."

There was a moment of silence as he contemplated her words. "Do you mean that?"

She nodded. She missed this—dear god, she missed him so much. She hadn't realized how much she missed being close to him until she was standing naked underneath his heated gaze.

She pressed her lips against his softly. "I'm all yours."

And then he deepened the kiss and she melted into him, her tongue dancing with his. He slowly loosened his grip on her hips and found its way onto her hand resting against his cheek. He pulled away from her, tugging her hand towards him, his mouth hovering above her wrist.

"In any way I want?" He asked, gently brushing his lips over her pulse.

"Any way you want."

He smiled at her then, the first smile she saw on him ever since he barged into her room unexpectedly. But there was something about his smile that sent her into a frenzy of nerves. It wasn't genuine, it wasn't gentle.

It wasn't until his other hand reached behind him that she finally understood what his smile meant. Because right at that moment, to her surprise, he retrieved a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, and with a soft click he carefully bounded one of her wrists, the steel bracelets feeling cool against her damp skin.

And then his smile morphed into a more dominant edge as he leaned closer, his eyes burning with need.

"Any way I want."

>> NEXT PART

a/n: Did you think I wasn't going to insert another smutty scene in between all the chaos? You thought wrong!

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ynjeonghoney · 2 months

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in this lifetime and the other — yoon jeonghan (A)

Sypnosis: Growing old with your significant other is a life goal. Your secret? Spending time with each other, cherishing every moment as if it were your last. But as the years passed, you begin to realize that remembering these moments was becoming increasingly difficult.

✦ pairing: husband!yoon jeonghan x wife!reader ✦ genre: heavy angst with a sprinkle of fluff ✦ word count: 8k ✦ warnings: reader has dementia, major character death

A gentle hush enveloped the morning in the heart of a serene nursing home. Within its comforting walls, the residents engage in activities — seasoned hands delicately weave intricate patterns in a tapestry of memories. Nearby, the aroma of freshly baked goods wafted through the air as a small gathering eagerly absorbed the secrets of the kitchen. In a sunlit corner, brushes danced upon canvases, bringing to life vibrant hues and silent narratives.

Each of these elders bore witness to history, and their stories carried the weight of generations. It was a humbling experience, conversing with individuals who had traversed the many twists and turns of life, each one holding a treasure trove of meaningful anecdotes and invaluable wisdom. It was something that would make someone stop in their tracks, compelled to listen to their stories.

The nurses moved about the nursing home with efficiency, their kind smiles and warming presence a constant reassurance to the residents. As the day unfolded, families visited, filling the halls with laughter and warmth. Children darted around, their youthful energy a stark contrast to the slower pace of the elders. Amidst the hustle and bustle of visitors coming and going, there were quiet moments of tenderness – a grandchild holding their grandparent's hand, a daughter brushing her mother's hair, a son sharing stories from his own life.

"Good morning, my love," the old man's voice, gently broke the stillness of the morning. His eyes, soft with affection, met yours as you stirred awake, the unfamiliar term of endearment sending a ripple of confusion through your mind. You searched your memory in vain, trying to place him in the of tapestry your life, but he remained a stranger in your memory.

As you lay in bed, a faint sensation tickled the inside of your nose, a subtle reminder of the apparatus supporting your breathing. With a gentle touch, the old man reached out, his weathered fingers brushing aside strands of your hair that had fallen across your face.

"Who are you? If I may ask?"

Blankly, you stared back at him, searching the depths of your mind for any semblance of recognition. But try as you might, his face remained a puzzle, an enigma shrouded.

Your voice grew faint, barely audible in the quietude of the room, yet the old man's keen ears caught the whisper of sound. A gentle smile graced his features as he gazed back at you. For him, you were not just a stranger lost in the labyrinth of forgetfulness, but a cherished figure, a memory preserved in the amber of his heart.

And as he looked upon you, it was not with the eyes of a stranger, but with the eyes of a lover, whose heart still beat with the fervor of a long-cherished romance.

"I'm your husband." He reached out for your hand, cradling it in his own palm, his touch a soothing caress against the back of your hand.

Staring at him in disbelief, you struggled to reconcile this revelation with the fragmented memories that flickered dimly in the recesses of your mind, "I'm married?"

You added, voice lacing with confusion, "How long have I been married to you?"

A sudden impulse drew your gaze to your hand, and there, resting on your finger, gleamed a simple yet elegant wedding ring. With trembling fingers, you traced the contours of the ring, feeling its weight against your skin.

"73 years. October 1951."

"What year is it now?"

"2024." As your husband spoke, a wave of disbelief washed over you, rendering you momentarily speechless. You glanced at him, unable to comprehend the gravity of his words. His expression was etched with sorrow, lines of concern creasing his face.

You felt a pang of desperation clawing at the edges of your mind. You struggled to recall the name of the man before you, the one who claimed to be your husband. It felt like grasping at fleeting shadows, trying to hold onto something that slipped further away.

But then, like a bolt of lightning cutting through the darkness, his name surged forth from the depths of your memory.

"Jeonghan."

The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly, forming a gentle curve. In that moment, any shadow of sadness seemed to vanish from his face, replaced instead by a glimmer of hope that danced in his eyes.

He gently cupped your cheeks. With a softness in his gaze, he leaned forward, closing the distance between you, until his lips met yours in a slow, tender peck. It was a moment Jeonghan wished could last forever. "Yes, sweetheart. It's me."

You smiled back at him, a flicker of warmth lighting up your face, but behind the facade of calmness, a whirlwind of questions still raged within your mind. Despite the tender moment you shared, there were still countless uncertainties gnawing at your consciousness.

Suddenly, there was a gentle knock on the door, and your nurse entered, a tray of breakfast in her hands. The aroma of freshly brewed tea and warm pastries filled the room.

"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Yoon." She set the tray down on the bedside table, arranging the food with care before turning her attention to you and your husband by your side.

"Thank you, Nurse Kim. I hope you have a great day ahead." Jeonghan said to the nurse, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. Nurse Kim's face lit up with a smile at his words.

"I wish the same for you both. And by the way, your children will be visiting at lunchtime. They're bringing your grandchildren as well."

In an instant, a flood of emotions surged within you – disbelief, confusion, and a profound sense of wonder. How could it be possible that you had children with your husband sitting beside you, whose name you struggled to remember mere moments ago?

"How many children did we have?" You finally managed to croak out, your voice barely above a whisper. The question felt surreal. How many children had you brought into the world together? How could you have forgotten such a fundamental aspect of your lives?

Jeonghan, the old man whose hand she had held through the trials and triumphs of their marriage, looked at her with a mixture of sadness and understanding. Closing your eyes, you tried to conjure up memories of laughter and tears, of tiny hands, but all you found was an empty void.

"Three children and eight grandchildren."

As you struggled to make sense of it all, there came a strange sense of euphoria wash over you. It was exhilarating, overwhelming even, to be confronted with the gist of your adventure with him. Each revelation felt like a piece of a puzzle slotting into place, painting a clearer picture of who you both were and how you both came to be.

"I want to know more, Jeonghan."

"About what?"

"Us."

June 28, 1947 — Santa Monica, California

Summer had arrived in all its glory, painting the world in hues of warmth and vibrancy. For you and your friends, the promise of adventure beckoned from afar, carried on the breeze that whispered through the trees. It was a day like any other, yet tinged with the anticipation of something extraordinary—a trip to the carnival.

As you walked along the path leading to the fairgrounds, you couldn't contain the excitement bubbling within you. The sun cast a golden glow upon the landscape, illuminating.

"It's been too long since we've had a day like this." Jihyo remarked, her voice filled with excitement.

Nayeon nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling, "I've been counting down the days until we could finally come here together."

"And just imagine all the rides and games waiting for us." Sana chimed in, her enthusiasm contagious.

With each step, the sounds of laughter and music grew louder, mingling with the sweet scent of cotton candy and popcorn that hung in the air. The carnival beckoned to them like a beacon of joy.

As you stepped through the entrance gate, all of you were immediately engulfed in copious sights and sounds. Colorful booths lined the pathways, each one offering its own array of delights and attractions. The air was alive with the melodies of carnival music and the laughter of children.

You begin to reminisce, "Remember when we were in preschool, we used to come to the carnival with our parents every summer and see who could eat the most cotton candy?"

Jihyo nodded in agreement, a soft smile playing on her lips. "It's amazing how something as simple as cotton candy can transport us back to our childhoods."

But amidst the laughter and sugary treats, a more serious topic lingered in the back of their minds—college plans. With graduation looming on the horizon, the future weighed heavily on their minds, each of them grappling with their own hopes and dreams for the years to come.

"So, have you guys thought about what you want to major in?" Sana asked, her tone tinged with curiosity.

Jihyo nodded thoughtfully, her expression contemplative. "I've been thinking about being a teacher. There's something incredibly rewarding about teaching kids."

"How about you, Amelia?"

"That, I still don't know," You admitted, tone tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "To be honest, I'm still figuring out what I want to pur-"

As you were engrossed in conversation with your friends, you felt a something hard and heavy beneath you. Startled, you came to an abrupt halt as you see a football nestled at your feet. The impact was gentle, and you felt no pain, but the unexpected interruption had caught you completely off guard.

"My apologies if I've caused any inconvenience." A young man approached you, exclaiming breathlessly with a sheepish grin spreading across his face. You glanced down at the football in your hands, realizing that it belonged to him.

You handed the football back to him, "It's quite alright, not a major concern."

Both of your eyes met in a collision of worlds. His eyes, like rich orbs of deep, soulful pools of brown, bore into her, delving into the very depths of her being. They were more than just windows to a universe unknown; they were gateways to unexplored realms. How could someone have eyes so irresistible, like this young man standing before you?

Your mind raced with memories of high school football games and cheers that echoed through the bleachers. It was then that you remembered him—a key player on the team. Despite the familiarity, you couldn't let the conversation falter into awkwardness. With a gentle smile, you decided to break the ice with an obvious question.

You began, "Hey, aren't you…?"

He nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "Yeah, that's me."

"I thought I recognized you from somewhere." You admitted, a playful twinkle in your eye.

--- end of flashback ----

"The summer of 1947?" Frustration welled up as you struggled to grasp, eager to piece together the sentiments of your high school years. Yet, despite the efforts, not a single memory replayed in your mind. Instead, you found herself hanging onto every word as your husband regaled you with stories from your past.

Jeonghan nodded. His tales painted vivid images in your mind, with each word that flowed from his lips, his voice filled with warmth and nostalgia.

You felt a sense of wonder and fascination, as if you were discovering a part of yourself that had long been forgotten. It was as though through his eyes, you were able to glimpse a version of yourself that you had once been.

"The day after that, and the day after that, we went on dates."

August 3, 1947 — Malibu, California

Jeonghan led you to a secluded spot just near his family's beach house. Despite the bustling crowds that filled the shoreline, he guided you to a hidden spot known only to him.

As you followed him, his fingers intertwined with yours, the cacophony of laughter faded into the background and was replaced by the soothing rhythm of the ocean lapping against the shore. In this secret sanctuary, you found yourselves surrounded by the beauty of nature—a pristine stretch of sand framed by towering cliffs and swaying palm trees. The air was heavy with the scent of salt and sea breeze.

"Do you bring your friends here?" You asked, your voice carrying over the gentle lull of the ocean.

"It's the first time I brought someone here." Jeonghan's words stir a flurry of emotions with butterflies fluttering in your stomach, their delicate wings dancing to the rhythm of your racing heart.

"I always go here whenever I feel the happiest." He confessed, his voice soft and filled with emotion. "And I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather share it with than you."

You couldn't help but smile at him, "It's beautiful."

"Just like you, Amelia."

The sand felt soft beneath your feet, and you relished the sensation of the grains slipping between your toes. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape as it began its descent towards the ocean. You stole a glance at Jeonghan, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him.

He returned your gaze, his eyes shimmering in the golden rays of the sun, casting an ethereal glow over his glorious face. It was as though he was painted by the very hues of twilight, his presence captivating and mesmerizing. You found yourself getting lost once more in the depths of his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away from the magnetic pull of his stare.

Without a word, you and Jeonghan dashed across the sandy shore, your laughter blending in with the salty sea breeze. As you danced along the shoreline with him, the cares of the world melted away, leaving only the two of you, and the endless expanse of the ocean stretching out before you.

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you scooped up a handful of seawater and flicked it at Jeonghan, your laughter ringing out like chimes in the breeze. Not to be outdone, Jeonghan retaliated with a playful splash of his own, the cool droplets landing on your shoulders.

Jeonghan's strong arms cradle you, his touch igniting a sense of security. As you wade deeper into the embrace of the ocean, the cool water envelops you, a welcome respite from the heat of the day. The waves rise and fall, each one cool and refreshing against your sunkissed skin.

Together, you and Jeonghan venture further into the deep waters, your bodies swaying effortlessly with the gentle currents. It is as though the sea itself has come alive, enfolding you in its embrace.

A tranquil stillness enveloped the ocean, and the tumultuous crashing of waves gradually subsided as Jeonghan delicately moved your hair aside. His gaze conveyed nothing but love and tenderness. With trembling anticipation, you watched as Jeonghan's gaze lowered to your lips, his movements deliberate and unhurried as he bridged the gap between you.

As your lips met in a kiss, time seemed to freeze, momentarily suspending all else—the roar of the waves, the whisper of the breeze, and the worries of the world. In that fleeting moment, there existed only the two of you, locked in an eternal embrace, your hearts beating as one.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Amelia."

The water feels like silk against your skin, a lover's caress that soothes your soul. You lose yourself in the sensation, in the sheer bliss of being alive in this moment with Jeonghan by your side.

And as the sunset dances upon your faces, you know deep in your heart that this is where you belong—by his side.

December 24, 1948 — New York City

Christmas in New York had always been a cherished dream for you ever since you first set foot in the city during your college years. The twinkling lights adorning the streets, the festive decorations decking every corner, and the palpable sense of joy in the air—it was a magical experience you looked forward to each year.

And of course, having Jeonghan alongside you in the bustling city, only added to the excitement. Together, you navigated the crowded streets, hand in hand, soaking in the holiday spirit that permeated every inch of the city.

Perched on a bench nestled on the enchanting landscape of Central Park, you and Jeonghan found yourselves entranced by the captivating scene unfolding before you. The tranquil atmosphere of the park was alive with the mirthful laughter of children, their gleeful voices echoing across the ice skating rink.

A comfortable silence surrounded you, broken only by the occasional soft murmurs of conversation from passersby.

His hand found yours, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. Jeonghan seemed unusually subdued, his typically vibrant demeanor overshadowed by a veil of quiet contemplation.

You stole a glance at him, noting the furrowed brow and the distant look in his eyes. Concern gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, urging you to reach out, to break the silence that stretched between you like an unspoken barrier.

"Is everything alright?" You asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words hung heavy in the air, laden with unspoken worry.

"Sweetheart, I'm leaving for London in a week." He said, his voice tinged with sadness.

On one hand, you couldn't help but feel overwhelming joy and pride as you watched him bask in the glow of his achievement—a scholarship to one of London's most esteemed universities. It was a dream come true, and you couldn't be happier for him.

Yet, beneath the surface, a wave of melancholy threatened to engulf you. The reality of his impending departure loomed. "Well, isn't that great news, my love?"

You tried to push aside your fears, to focus on the positive—the opportunities and adventures that awaited him in the bustling metropolis of London. But deep down, the prospect of a long-distance relationship lingered on your mind.

And as the day of his departure drew nearer, you found yourself grappling with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—joy and sadness, hope and despair. But through it all, one thing remained constant—the bond that connected you, heart to heart.

He sighed, a heavy weight settling in his chest. There was no turning back now, "I don't know if I can bear to be apart from you for who knows how long."

That was his greatest concern—the uncertainty of what would become of the moments when you two were miles apart. With only letters as your primary form of communication, the distance between you would feel insurmountable. You knew that it was his dream, his aspiration to pursue his studies in London. Who were you to stand in the way of that?

The snow began to fall gently, swirling and twirling in the crisp winter air. The children, with their laughter echoing through the park, paused in their play to gaze up at the sky in wonder. Their faces lit up as they reached out to catch the falling snowflakes, their breath forming small puffs of white in the chill of the evening air. It was a moment of pure magic.

"Don't let this slip through your fingers." You reached out, your hand trembling as you tried to comfort him, but deep down, you couldn't bear the thought of him leaving. Every aspect of your existence rebelled against the idea of him being so far away.

You knew deep down that you had to accept this chapter of your lives, as painful as it may be. As much as it hurt you to see him go, it was a part of life, and it won't be like this forever.

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, pulling him close as if trying to merge your souls in a hug. He nestled his head against your shoulder, his tears trickled with the falling snowflakes.

You held him for what felt like an eternity, cherishing every heartbeat, every breath, every fleeting moment you had left together. With a reassuring smile, you whispered, "I'll be waiting for you, my love." Your voice echoing with the weight of a thousand lifetimes.

"I'll come back for you, sweetheart." The sincerity in his voice tugged at your heartstrings.

May 8, 1949 — New York City

Ever since Jeonghan left for London, you had been receiving letters from him every month without fail. Every month, like clockwork, each envelope carried a piece of his life in London, his experiences, his struggles, and his triumphs. But amidst the vivid descriptions and anecdotes, there was always one recurring theme—his unwavering love for you.

In his letters, he conversed his soul, seeking solace in the thought that you were there, waiting for him on the other side of the world. It was a promise that echoed in every sentence and sentiment.

January 2, 1949 London, England To the love of my life, How are you, my darling? I hope this letter finds you well and wrapped in the warmth of our love, even from miles apart. It's only been a week since I left, but it feels like an eternity without you here with me. The days stretch on endlessly, each moment aching with your absence. Yet, amidst the longing, the thought of you—your smile, your laughter, and your love fill the empty spaces in my heart. London is a breathtaking place. And as I wander through its winding alleys, I can't help but imagine you by my side, your hand in mine as we explore this beautiful city together. I long for the day when I can take you here in London, to show you all the wonders that await us in this place. But until then, my love, know that you are always in my heart. Distance may keep us apart for now, but our love knows no bounds. My heart is yours. I love you, my darling Amelia. Love, Jeonghan

February 28, 1949 London, England To the love of my life, As I sit here in my room, surrounded by the bustle of university life, thoughts of you fill my mind and heart, bringing me peace and comfort in the midst of my studies. I must say, studying biology here is an enriching experience, my love. The professors are truly dedicated, and the training is rigorous. I want you to know that I am not taking any of these experiences for granted. I want nothing more than for this dream to be successful, not just for myself, but for us. I want to build a future that we've always dreamed of. I want to give you the life you deserve with me, sweetheart. Sometimes, I find myself having slow mornings, and I must admit, I love it. There's something magical about the stillness of the early hours. It's in these moments that I feel most alive, most at peace with myself and the world around me. How wonderful it would be to share these quiet mornings with you, to bask in the sunlight together and savor the simple pleasures of life. Just hang in there, my darling Amelia. Until the day we can be together again, know that I carry you with me always, in every sunrise, in every cup of coffee, in every beat of my heart. I love you. Love, Jeonghan

March 24, 1949 London, England To the love of my life, My heart is overflowing with emotions, and I find myself compelled to share with you that I am top of the class. Your unwavering belief in me fuels my determination. Your love and support have been my guiding light, a constant source of strength and inspiration. I can't help but long for you, my love. I want nothing more than to wrap you in my arms, to hold you close and celebrate this momentous occasion together. Your presence is the missing piece that would make this victory complete. Just a bit more patience, my darling Amelia. Always keep in mind that I love you dearly. Love, Jeonghan

April 11, 1949 Cambridge, England To the love of my life, I applied for a spot in a football team, and I am overjoyed to tell you that I have been accepted. My training is scheduled every Saturday, and I am eager to dive headfirst into the challenges and victories that await me on the field. However, I must admit that not everything has been smooth sailing. One of my teammates and I recently had a misunderstanding, but I want to assure you that it is nothing to worry about. I want to let you know that my schedule is about to become quite hectic in the upcoming months. Between school, football, and other obligations, my days are quickly filling up with tasks and responsibilities that demand my attention. But amidst the flurry of activity that threatens to overwhelm me, there's something I want to promise you. I will do my best to make time for you, to carve out moments in my busy life to sit down and write you a letter. You see, my love, you mean the world to me, and no matter how busy life gets, you will always hold a special place in my heart. Writing to you, sharing my thoughts and feelings with you, is a priority for me, one that I will never neglect or take for granted. So please, bear with me during these hectic months, Know that even when I'm not physically present, my love for you remains unwavering, steadfast and true. Sending you hugs and kisses! Love, Jeonghan

As the days stretched into weeks and then months, it became increasingly rare for you to find a letter from Jeonghan waiting in your mailbox. At first, you eagerly anticipated each delivery. But as time wore on, the letters grew scarce.

Your lives were like ships passing in the night, each of you navigating different paths, pursuing separate dreams. Jeonghan was immersed in the demanding world of medicine. Meanwhile, you were fully engrossed in your own studies, chasing after your aspirations in education, much like your close friend Jihyo.

"The mailman rarely comes by our place anymore. Has something happened between you and Jeonghan?" Your mother's concerned gaze pierced through the air as she spoke, her voice tinged with worry. She was used to seeing the mailman's familiar figure, always arriving with a handful of letters from your lover. But now, he seemed to be everywhere but your home.

The absence of his letters weighed heavily on your heart. It had become routine, almost expected, to not receive any letters from Jeonghan. At first, you had held onto hope, clinging to the belief that perhaps this time would be different, that a letter would arrive bearing news of his adventures and endeavors. Hope began to wane, replaced by resignation and acceptance.

You had grown accustomed to the silence. Deep down, you still held onto the belief that someday, somehow, Jeonghan would reach out to you, that your paths would cross once again, and the silence would be broken by the sound of his voice.

--- end of flashback ----

You listened to Jeonghan, "You thought I was cheating on you."

"But believe it or not," he continued, his voice softening with sincerity, "I always talked about you to my friends. You were always on my mind, your name constantly on the tip of my tongue. I made sure everyone knew you were my girlfriend."

In the depths of his soul, you were the epitome of beauty, a vision of grace and elegance that captivated his heart from the moment he laid eyes on you. Despite the distance that separated the two of you, he made it his mission to ensure that the world knew you were his, that you were loved beyond measure.

For Yoon Jeonghan, you were not just a fleeting fancy or a passing infatuation, but the anchor that kept him grounded in a sea of uncertainty.

You struggled to recall so many details of your shared past. But despite the fog that clouded your mind, he made sure you knew one thing with absolute certainty – you had spent seventy three years of love with this person.

To you, it felt like a lifetime.

"When did you come back?" You asked, drowsy.

November 15, 1950 — Boston, Masachussets

The bell rang, a familiar sound echoing through the halls of the prestigious private middle school, signaling the end of another day of classes. With a sigh of relief, you gathered your belongings as you made your way towards the exit.

The halls were bustling with activity as students hurried to their lockers, chatting excitedly about plans for the upcoming weekend.

However, the dreary sight of raindrops pelting against the glass windows dismayed you. The once sunny skies had transformed into a gloomy expanse, the sound of thunder echoing in the distance.

To make matters worse, you realized with a sinking feeling that you hadn't brought your car along. Just when you needed it the most, the weather took a turn.

"Miss Park, someone named Yoon Jeonghan is looking for you."

A chill ran down your spine as your colleague uttered his name. It was a name that once held so much significance, evoking memories of love, shared dreams, and whispered promises. But now, it sent a wave of uncertainty crashing over you.

Your body tensed as you processed the information, the mere mention of his name causing your heart to ache. You proceeded to the to clock out, each step weighed down by a mixture of trepidation.

There he was, sitting on one of the benches just outside the main exit.

The pain in your heart is excruciating. It's unbearable.

You had finally found peace in letting go, in moving forward without him by your side. But now, his unexpected return threatens to upend the fragile balance you've worked so hard to achieve, just when you've come to accept everything.

Jeonghan came back, but at what cost?

"I am so sorry, sweetheart." He approached you, and those were the first words he stated. You felt a knot form in your stomach as you looked into his eyes, searching for answers, for a glimpse of the man you used to know.

Was it really that easy to go back to how things were after he left you hanging for a year without a word? It wasn't just about forgiving him, but confronting the unresolved feelings and unanswered questions that had haunted you for so long.

You knew deep down that you couldn't jump to conclusions without first hearing his side of the story. After all, you hadn't walked in his shoes or experienced firsthand whatever trials he had faced during his time in England. It wouldn't be fair to assume the worst without giving him the chance to explain himself.

But even as you grappled with your own doubts and insecurities, a part of you longed for answers, for closure, for the opportunity to lay bare the raw emotions that had festered in your heart during his absence.

The weight on your chest felt suffocating, and a dull ache began to throb in your throat as tears threatened to spill from your blurry eyes. It felt as though the weight of the world was bearing down on you.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, to suppress the rising tide of tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, but it was futile. The emotions pent up inside you demanded release.

And so, you walked on, the rain pouring down with increasing intensity, drenching you to the bone. Each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the burden of your emotions and the relentless downpour that seemed to mirror the turmoil within your soul.

There was nowhere to go, no destination to seek refuge from the storm raging both inside and out. You could have hailed a taxi, sought shelter in the warmth and comfort of your home, but something held you back.

You allowed your tears to fall freely, merging with the rain cascading down upon you. Each droplet was a testament to the pain and sorrow that weighed heavily on your heart.

"There is nothing to apologize for." You came in defense. Each recollection of those desperate moments, waiting for a letter that never came, stabbed at your heart like a dagger, reopening wounds you had thought had long since healed.

Once again, his touch enveloped both of your arms, but this time, it lacked the warmth and reassurance you once knew so well. His eyes, once bright with joy, now mirrored deep sadness and melancholy.

"The years that I was gone, shouldn't that be something that I need to apologize to you for?"

His thumb brushed away the tears that stained your cheeks, "Hear me out, please, darling?"

Your heart fluttered at his endearment, the familiar term of affection stirring emotions long buried beneath the surface. It had been so long since you had heard those words from him.

You missed it.

"School has been demanding lately," he confessed, his voice laced with regret. "I hardly could find time to write to you."

You whispered, "I know, you told me that in one of your letters."

He nodded in response, a weary sigh escaping his lips, and you could feel the weight of exhaustion radiating from him. You could see the fatigue etched into the lines of his face, the weariness in his eyes that spoke volumes of the pressure he was under. It was evident that school had been taking its toll on him, demanding every ounce of his energy and focus.

"And this, my love, I never told you…"

"My scholarship almost got revoked because I was involved in a fight."

He added, "That one guy in my football team…"

"You also wrote that in your letter, sweetheart." You replied.

He breathed heavily, the weight of his fatigue evident in the way his chest rose and fell with each labored breath. As he pulled you close, you could feel the tension in his muscles. His arms wrapped around you with a desperate strength, seeking solace and support in your embrace. And then, he buried his face against your shoulder.

"Life is so difficult without you." Jeonghan uttered a wistful response.

You stood together in the midst of the downpour, raindrops cascading around you like a curtain of silver threads. Your clothes clung to your skin, drenched from the relentless deluge, but neither of you paid it any mind. All Jeonghan wanted was for you to hold him tight, to drive his fears away, and to be with him.

He gazed into your eyes, and then, without a word, his lips met yours in a passionate kiss. It was a gesture you had both yearned for.

As his lips captured yours, you melted into the kiss, the world around you fading into insignificance. With a soft sigh, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, longing to feel every part of him pressed against you.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the space between you.

"Oh darling, I missed you so much," Jeonghan whispered, his voice filled with longing and sincerity. His arms tightened around you, as if afraid to let you go, as if trying to make up for all the time you had been apart.

"Please, don't ever leave me again." You implored, voice carrying the weight of your vulnerabilities.

He paused, interrupting the moment, "I won't."

"Because I'm taking you with me."

His hand delved into his pocket to retrieve a small, intricately decorated box. Your breath caught in your throat as he opened it, revealing a ring nestled within the cushions of the box. In that moment, everything seemed to fall into place. Everything suddenly became clear, as if the universe had been guiding you towards this moment all along.

"My darling, Amelia. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Let's do life together."

"You know that it would always be a million times yes, Jeonghan."

---- end of flashback ----

"Oh my god." You whispered, a frail smile forming on your lips. It was as though you were reading a novel. With bated breath, you hung on to every detail, feeling the warmth of his voice wrap around you like a comforting blanket. "She must have had the best life with you."

"She did, darling. You had the best life with me."

The scene he described was so vivid, yet, you felt like a bystander in your own story, unable to grasp the memories that Jeonghan so fondly reminisced. It was as if his words belonged to another lifetime, another version of yourself that you could no longer access. You strained to remember the moments he shared, but they remained elusive.

"And then...what happened?" Keeping your eyes open proved to be challenging, and each breath felt like a burden, despite the equipment tethered to you.

"I married you, Amelia."

"Come again?"

"We're married for 73 years."

You found it difficult to keep pace with the man's words, each syllable feeling like a foreign language to your confused mind, as if your mind had been reset and you couldn't comprehend why. You searched his face, desperately seeking familiarity. Unfortunately, he was a person that your mind couldn't recognize.

"I'm sorry, what's your name?"

Jeonghan's patience was unwavering, a steadfast presence amidst the chaos of your fading consciousness. Each day seemed to chip away at the fragments of your memories, leaving behind a hollow shell of the person you once were. It was a heartbreaking ordeal for him to witness, like watching a beautiful painting slowly fade into obscurity.

You found yourself lost in a disorienting haze, where time seemed to ebb and flow like the tide. People and places blurred together in a jumble of indistinct shapes and sounds. It was a harrowing experience, to feel every part of you slowly succumbing to the relentless march of time. Memories faded into oblivion, leaving behind an empty void one could no longer fill.

"Yoon Jeonghan. You're my wife, and I'm your husband." He whispered softly, his voice laced with a mix of tenderness and longing.

"Did we have children?" You asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

"We have three. Two girls and one boy," he replied, his words carrying a weight of reminiscence. "You have eight grandchildren, as well."

Jeonghan added with a smile, "We promised that we'd finish college first before starting a family."

March 7, 1953 — Portofino, Italy

"Good morning, sweetheart." A faint whisper tickled your ear, and then, almost instinctively, you felt the embrace of Jeonghan's strong arms wrapping around you from behind.

Immediately, you shifted, turning to face him and melting into his embrace. His bare chest pressed against your own, the warmth of his skin radiating against you. You buried your face against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin, letting it wash over you like a wave of tranquility.

You felt the tender press of Jeonghan's lips against your forehead, a gentle caress that sent ripples of warmth cascading through your weary body. Despite the early morning light filtering through the curtains, you found yourself drifting off to sleep, lulled by the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. Time itself had slowed to a standstill, allowing you to bask in the serenity of this intimate moment with him.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan savored the precious seconds ticking by, cherishing every fleeting instant he had with you, his heart swelling with love as he traced the contours of your face with his gaze. In the quiet of the room, he allowed himself to be fully present in this moment, indulging the joy of holding you close.

Unable to resist any longer, he found himself captivated by your beauty, his gaze lingering on your naked form. Every curve, every line of your body seemed to radiate with an otherworldly glow, sending him into constant euphoria.

He reached out to caress your cheek, his touch feather-light against your skin as he leaned in, his lips seeking yours in a tender, lingering kiss. It was a slow, deliberate gesture, a silent plea for you to awaken from your slumber.

You moaned softly, your voice a whisper in the dimly lit room, but you knew you had to stop him. "Mmm, I'm afraid I don't have it in me for another go, darling. I'm sore from last night, and it's because of you."

Jeonghan chuckled, "I can see how you rather reveled in last night's affair."

"Anything for you, sweetheart." He added, a proud look painted on his face.

In the comfort of your new home, nestled snugly beside your husband and the whispering ocean, you find yourself waking to the sight beyond the right window. There, you awaken to the serene expanse of the sea, tranquil and unyielding in its beauty.

Amidst the tender beginnings of your marriage, a dream materialized into reality as you and your husband diligently saved for this cherished abode, knowing all too well of your deep affection for the ocean.

"Thank you for this, Jeonghan. I just love the ocean so much."

"And I love you most, Amelia."

December 29, 1953 — Portofino, Italy

In the moments of your firstborn's arrival just a week prior, every ounce of fatigue and every sleepless night seemed a small price to pay for the tender care your child demanded. The longing to return to your profession, to teach and impart knowledge, nags on you incessantly.

Yet, despite your decision, Jeonghan, your husband, insisted that you take the time to rest and recuperate.

As you stirred in the early hours of the morning, your fingertips brushed against the cold, empty space where your husband had lain just hours before. Heavy with sleep, your eyelids resisted the call to wakefulness, clinging stubbornly to the remnants of slumber. The night enveloped the room in a profound silence, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric and the rhythmic cadence of your own breathing.

Your gaze wandered towards the bassinet where your newborn daughter usually slept until your eyes fell upon the familiar sight of Jeonghan.

Drawing closer, the soft glow of moonlight revealed the silhouette of your husband, his figure bathed in a gentle luminescence as he sat in his usual spot. His arms enveloped your daughter, cocooning her in a protective embrace, while the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest mirrored the steady beat of his heart.

Jeonghan's gaze met yours, his eyes alight with warmth and affection. A soft smile graced his lips, tender and reassuring, and he continued to cradle your daughter in his arms. With gentle motions, he coaxed her into the peaceful embrace of slumber, the rhythmic swaying of his movements lulling her.

"Sweetheart," you called your husband.

"Hm?"

Your desire to return to work intensifies with each passing day, a persistent tug at the core of your being. You feel confident in your ability to manage yourself effectively during your maternity leave. Driven by a desire to reclaim your productivity, you are resolute in your decision to return to teaching.

"What if I told you that I want to return to work after the holidays?" As the words left your lips, Jeonghan's brow furrowed in contemplation. His mind raced, mapping out potential schedules and arrangements to ensure the well-being of your little one while the both of you were at work. "I want to provide more for our child."

He muttered, "Let's discuss that first thing in the morning. But for now, get some rest, darling. I'll tend to our daughter." He held your child as if she were the most precious and fragile thing in the world.

---- end of flashback ----

Jeonghan's heart breaks at the sight of your weakened state. Despite the weight of the world bearing down upon your chest, you fought to catch your breath, clinging to his words as if they were the very air you needed to survive.

With each passing moment, the urgency to spend this precious time with Jeonghan swelled within you, a desperate longing to imprint his presence upon your heart. Every word that fell from his lips wove a tapestry of cherished memories, a mosaic of everything you held dear in life.

"Did you know that we used to dance together as soon as the sun sets?"

You shook your head, unable to recall. But you found yourself more than eager to hear what he had up his sleeve, to replay the episode when the two of you were dancing amidst the golden rays of the sun, somewhere near home.

"Can I dance with you?" You asked Jeonghan, your heart yearning for the familiar rhythm of movement, but he hesitated, reluctance evident in his eyes as he glanced at your fragile state.

Just as the moment hung in delicate balance, Nurse Kim entered, her presence a timely interruption to the silent exchange between you and your husband. With a compassionate gaze, she inquired about how she could be of assistance to both of you.

"I'll do the best that I can, Mr. Yoon."

Nurse Kim swiftly removed the blankets covering your abdomen, and with care, she supported your head and back, ensuring that your position posed no risk. She then lifted you from the bed, each movement was slow and steady. She held onto you until your husband was able to reach out, allowing you to be securely wrapped around his arms.

How he yearned for your touch, his heart soaring to the heavens at the mere thought of holding you close once more in his arms.

Jeonghan whispered, "Rest your head on my chest, my love."

February 14, 1954 — Los Angeles, California

Valentine's Day held a mundane charm in your world, for your husband had a remarkable way of weaving romance into the fabric of everyday life, rendering every moment akin to that celebrated day.

As the afternoon waned, the gentle melody of the day was interrupted by the sound of the front door creaking open. There stood your husband, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he concealed a bouquet of flowers behind his back.

He approached you slowly, each step deliberate, and gave you this large bouquet of red roses, "Beautiful flowers for the most beautiful woman."

Being married to Jeonghan felt like stepping into the shoes of a protagonist in a romantic movie. Every moment with him was like a scene straight out of a love story, where he effortlessly embodied everything you had ever dreamed of in a partner.

He proceeded to take a gentle look at your firstborn daughter, who was in slumber, nestled peacefully in her bassinet, her tiny chest rising and falling with each serene breath.

Once again, it was the golden hour, with the sun's rays breaking through the kitchen windows, casting warm, honeyed hues across the room.

Jeonghan beckoned you into his arms, enveloping you in a tight embrace as the music from the radio filled the air. Together, you both swayed gently, lost in the moment, as if time itself had paused to savor the sweetness of your love. His hand rested firmly on the small of your back, the other one holding your right hand.

You softly rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to be enveloped by the warmth of his love. In that tranquil moment, every worry, every fear melted away, leaving only the profound sense of security that came from being held in the arms of someone who cherished you unconditionally. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoed in your ears, a comforting lullaby that eased your troubled mind and filled you with peace.

It was only you and Jeonghan, lost in each other's arms as you slow danced the golden hour into twilight.

But in your dreams whatever they be Dream a little dream of me

---- end of flashback ----

In the present moment, you found yourself caught in a slow dance with someone whose features blurred in the haze of memory. Though Jeonghan's face was no longer clear in your mind, you knew he had been a significant part of your life. And as you moved together, guided by the melody of the music, you couldn't help but wonder about the chapters of your life that had slipped from your grasp, lost in the passage of time.

His touch and embrace felt achingly familiar, like pieces of a puzzle that once fit perfectly together but had since been scattered by the winds of time. Though you couldn't recall the specifics of your marriage, there was an undeniable resonance in the way he held you. In that fleeting moment, you were certain that this dance held echoes of a love story you had lived and breathed before, a love that had ignited your soul and left an indelible mark on your heart.

You knew, deep within your heart, that this man had loved you beyond measure. It was evident in the way his eyes softened as he recounted shared memories, in the tremor of his voice as he spoke your name.

A wave of exhaustion washed over you, your breaths growing shallow. In the stillness of the moment, you couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of fading, of slipping away from someone who stayed with you for a lifetime. It was a heart-wrenching realization, knowing that even the deepest love couldn't protect you from the flux of time.

You mustered the strength to caress his chest, your touch so weak. In that fleeting moment, his name danced on the edge of your consciousness, a whisper from the past that stirred the depths of your soul.

"Jeonghan..."

He looked at you with eyes filled with love and sadness, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face as he gazed down at you. Your head rested against his chest, seeking solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, while your arms clung to him.

Despite the palpable frailty, he remained by your side, a steadfast presence in the midst of your struggle.

Tears gathered in Jeonghan's eyes. Each shimmering droplet mirrored the ache in his heart, a silent testament to the depth of his love and the agony of impending separation. With every breath, he struggled to contain the tempest of emotions raging within him, knowing all too well that the time had come for you to leave.

With all the remaining strength coursing through your weary body, you summoned every last bit of resolve to convey the depths of your love to him before drifting into the peaceful embrace of eternal slumber. Each word felt like a laborious effort, but the urgency of your heart spurred you on.

Jeonghan was more than just your husband; he was your confidant, your best friend, and, above all else, the love of your life.

"I love you." You whispered, the weight of those words heavy with the finality of goodbye. It echoed the solemn promise you both made at the altar, in the hallowed presence of God, to love him until death parted you. For the last time, you declared your love to your husband.

As you felt yourself fading away from the world, you realized that you were leaving life behind. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the anguished sobbing of another person, but you couldn't quite locate where they were.

Slowly, the grip of the person holding you began to loosen, their touch growing fainter with each passing second.

Through blurred vision, clouded by tears cascading down his cheeks, Jeonghan saw you resting peacefully in his embrace. Your lifeless body remained cradled in his arms, the pallor of your skin stark against the backdrop of his trembling form. You appeared as if in tranquil repose after a lifetime of adventures.

He was aware of the exhaustion, the countless machines tethered to your frail form in a desperate attempt to sustain your dwindling vitality. In the midst of the medical apparatus, he couldn't help but wonder if their purpose was to prolong your life or merely to delay the inevitable death.

And as Jeonghan held you close, he found solace in the knowledge that you were finally at peace, free from the pain and suffering that had plagued you.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly since the moment you fell in love with each other, yet it passed by in the blink of an eye. The world moved slowly, but time raced by at an unfathomable pace.

Not once did he ever regret loving you. Despite the imperfections that marred your relationship and the hurdles you both had to overcome, Jeonghan never wavered in his love for you. He knew that you had felt his love and presence throughout the years.

He loved you not only in the right way, but in every way you needed and desired.

With a heavy heart, Jeonghan whispered words of farewell, pressing a final kiss on your forehead, "I love you most, my darling Amelia."

"Rest easy, my love."

---- end ----

author's note: hello, everyone! i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing it. this is the first time i've written some heavy angst here, and as much as i enjoy writing smut, i'm really a big sucker for angst.

this tugged my heartstrings so bad. (brb, sobbing)

send an ask and let me know what you think!

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di-42 · 6 months

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Why are we obsessed with Good Omens?

Why are we obsessed with Good Omens? And, more specifically,why are we so obsessed with Good Omens season 2? And why is this such an intense obsession? I've been obsessed with other TV series in the past: Sherlock, Doctor Who and Gilmore Girls are just a few examples. But my obsession with Good Omens is stronger. I loved Good Omens, the book. I was delighted when not only did Good Omens season 1 not disappoint compared to the book but was excellent in its own right. But after watching season 2 I was a different person. And I know I'm not alone in this.

Why is this? Why is this show affecting us so deeply? To the point that sometimes it feels destabilising?

Like I said above, I loved the book and I loved season 1. I loved the complexity of the plot, the many layers of the story, the humour of course, all the characters and in the TV show the way these characters were portrayed, especially of course our two main heroes. I loved the way the story unapologetically approached religion and teased it and played with it and made fun of parts of it, especially the bureaucratic/hierarchic part without being disrespectful to believers (I think and hope, but since I'm not a believer myself I'm happy to be corrected). I loved how much was in it and the many lenses we could read the story.

Now I'll be honest. When I started watching season 2 I... loved it. Of course I did. The way you love things you know. The way you love things that make you feel safe. The way a toddler loves mum and dad and the way we love going for a coffee with our lifelong friends. Something risk-free, something we know, something we don't need to worry about. Something beautiful but... Shall I say it? Something beautiful, truly beautiful and safe and cosy but not something extremely exciting. The plot is Crowley and Aziraphale have to hide Gabriel who, for some reason, has left heaven. OK. Nice. We get to know Crowley and Aziraphale better, we have more glimpses of their history. Truly, truly beautiful. But safe. A lovely rom com. We fall in love with 1941 all over again. Beautifully emotional. But where's the danger? Is the world really not ending this time round? It was difficult to take the threats from heaven and hell very seriously when we saw our heroes visiting the coffee shop, driving to Edinburgh and miracling rain to make two humans fall in love.

I was enjoying it, I was... yeah. Loving it, sure. We were all happily watching it but, let's face it, we all knew how it was going to end, didn't we?

And that there. That's why we are so obsessed with Good Omens. Well, that's definitely why I'm so obsessed with Good Omens. At first I thought it was just the lack of closure. But it's not. It's because after alluring you in with cosy safe tartan blankets and cocoa winged mugs it smites you mercilessly. It's because it subverts all the expectations it created in the first place. This is what is so destabilising. We've all read and watched lovely, moving, heart breaking love stories before. We've all lost it a bit over maddening cliffhangers. All the beautiful stories in our lives. But the ending of Good Omens season 2? It does change you as a person. The impact of changing the narrative so suddenly and forcefully. We were watching a comedy and now we are witnessing the unfolding of a tragedy. That's what did it, I think. That's why it stays with us and occupies a good part of our thoughts while we go about our daily activities. That's also what makes many of us want to write, draw, analyse and create. As obsessed as I was with other series and books before, it was only after Good Omens season 2 that I felt I needed to write about it and find a community where I could talk about and share my thoughts and read other people's thoughts. I know many of you are writers or artists but I also know many of us aren't and it's only thanks to Good Omens that we overcome our fears and self doubts and put our thoughts out there. Thanks to Neil Gaiman. Thanks to Neil Gaiman promising one thing and delivering another. Thanks to Neil Gaiman deceiving us. I can't wait to see how it all pans out and we do know everything will be OK. But in the meantime I'm so happy to have had my expectations taken and thrown in the bin.

#good omens #good omens season2 #Good omens 2 #subverting expectations #the beauty of stories

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vilsoo · 10 months

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୨⎯ CHAPTER ONE ⎯୧

incubus!fushiguro toji x fem!reader

꒰ ✟ ꒱ GENRE: horror, demon au, nsfw 18+, porn with plot.

꒰ ✟ ꒱ SUMMARY: Sex demons are not as provocative as you think they are. Not only do they engage in sexual acts with humans, they thrive off their flesh and haunt them in their nightmares. When an incubus disguised as a Reverend turns a hungry eye on one of the parishioners, gruesome events at the cathedral slowly unfold; blasphemy, gore, and terror…

꒰ ✟ ꒱ CHAPTER WARNINGS: sacrilege, religious slander, blasphemy, WC: 2,391

PREVIOUS • MASTERLIST • NEXT CHAPTER

written in toji's pov, narration style similar to the Netflix show, "You." this takes place in a fictional setting; St. Reze University & Cathedral. banner art made in 2021 by chosofty!

‎ ST. REZE CATHEDRAL ‎ ֺ PRESENT TIME

‎ TOJI

I was born to be an affront to God.

A cruel infernal creature like me, born and raised in Hell, until, I made the decision to leave and never return. The regrets of leaving my past life in Hell started crawling down my spine these past few weeks. I knew I wasn't going to love my new life in the human realm either, but I had no choice. I had to be ordained as a Reverend for a Catholic University, where I sustain through dreadful church hours and its absurd practices.

From what I've witnessed in the course of religious history, the people of this church have less ethics than most witchcraft practitioners I've fucked in the past.

It was a shame for a man like me indeed. Accommodating these sheepish Catholics that devote to a religion I couldn't care less about— yet here I am personified as a Reverend fool. If my demon counterparts from Hell saw me like this months ago, the humiliation would infuriate me greatly. But now that I'm "reborn," I finally stopped giving a fuck of what humans and demons think of me.

Dark grey clouds shrouded over the cathedral as I saunter down the alleyway, stopping under an arch. Gloomy weather and heavy rain filling the campus felt oddly comforting to me. I had my cigarette, perching it between my lips as the fire of my lighter meets the end of the roll. I leaned against the roughness of the arch, watching the rain and exhaling the smoke. Then I allowed my mind to fall back to its numb state, feeling indifferent about being late for Mass.

It was annoying to find out that I wasn't alone, though. Because behind me, in this pouring alleyway, you found me.

The harsh splashes from the puddles could be heard from this distance. In need of shelter from the rain, you sprinted all the way to the arch where I was and halted right beside me, catching your breath. I must admit— I was a bit irritated of your abrupt presence. Having my peace disturbed as you scrutinize me with those mysterious, prying eyes of yours.

How the Hell did you even find me? A student like you was not supposed to be here.

My nonchalant, dead gaze remained on the cobblestone pavement as I inhaled. Part of me wanted you to leave. Gone. It's rude to stare, do you not know that? I assumed that my cold, aloof behavior from a Reverend like me was rather perverse and intimidating, especially when I'm smoking on these "sacred" church grounds without giving a damn. But you... you kept your gaze onto me like a moth to a flame.

I was a total stranger. You should've known this all along. But you still chose to stay with me here, and we stood in strained silence as the rain palpitated.

"Never seen a priest smoke before," you suddenly pondered, but your voice was loud and clear enough for me to hear amid the heavy rain.

I give a furtive glance from the corner of my eyes. A beam from the glowing streetlights nearby hovered over your face, the depths of your features visible for me to see. For a minute, I was intrigued. Piercing, beautiful eyes with a lurid gaze on me, evoking such curiosity as I have right now. I am once again met with the bitter taste of arson between my lips and exhaling the grey stench to the mist.

"Not a priest. Reverend," I deadpanned.

"Oh, sorry. Have I seen you before? I don't think I've seen you around at church. Were you just recently ordained?"

I had no desire to reply because I really don't care. It was pointless of me to since I wasn't in the first place. But something clicked in my mind once I took it to all in. You, an unsullied woman— gullible of the prospecting, flagrant danger you've now encountered. A student like you was never supposed to find me, yet here you are.

I hear a sigh fall from your lips, exasperated from how awkward our encounter was. "Nevermind, then. I'll just be heading to Mass now—"

"Don't," I retorted suddenly, completely nonplussed of the words that just slipped out of me. What the hell am I doing? "The walk to the cathedral from here is… too far. There's nowhere else for you to wait ‘til the rain dies down."

You scanned the area again, rubbing your arms as the chill from the mist crawled down your skin. "Are you sure you don't want me to go? I don't wanna bother you..."

How apologetic. Just like most of the sheepish Catholics here at St. Reze that practice a religion dedicated to forgiveness. Perhaps my hint of interest for you was enough to entertain me as the storm subsides. Encountering me while I'm slightly under the influence of drugs... Usually I have no desire to associate with pesky Catholics and students, but you...

I don't know why, but hearing your voice for the first time was like dipping into radiant honey and velvet. I felt inclined to speak my mind just so I can hear it again, tossing the worn out cigarette to a puddle and making the effort to face you completely.

The sky was now melting into darkness, shadows filling the angles of my face as I turned to you. "I think it'd be dumb of you to leave when it's raining this hard. And hopefully you're not a dumb girl, are you?"

I was expecting a more sheepish response, but you chuckled instead like it was a rhetorical question. Even the subtle grin stretching across your face somehow softened my nonchalant expression.

"How are you even a Reverend? You seem more like a layman to me."

"I wish," I mumbled. "But I wouldn't be making more money if I wasn't in the clergy."

"Just in it for the money? You're not… committed to serving the church?"

Fuck no, I replied in my head. But I decided to stay silent and stare at the sky, noticing you studying my emotionless face in the corner of my eyes. Naievety and gullibility is really in your nature, just like all the pathetic Catholics and penitents here. I fucking hated it, but your curiosity was just... delectable to me for some reason. It made a wave of questions rush in my head that I was tempted to solve myself.

"Are you?" I spoke sardonically, side-eyeing you.

“Yes. I am,” you replied confidently with a smile. “Serving God and attending the church has been a big part of my life.”

How sad. How pitiful. A lost little lamb like you, blinded by the wrong truths of an absurd religion just like everyone else here. Living by this pathetic promise of an eternity without sin, pain, and fear… But such servile mannerism from you strangely amused me; I wanted to provoke it just for the fun of it. Derisively taunt your beliefs little by little and take away that religious burden; almost like corrupting you…

I need to stop.

The heavy rain had finally subsided and the puddles on the ground were now gentle and smooth that a water lily can bathe in it. There was a soft rattling sound coming from the palm of your hand that I did not notice before. Something smooth and ivory, almost like pearl beads glimmering from the dull alleyway lamp posts.

"Anyways… Aren't you supposed to be at the church early?"

“Don’t really feel like going right now,” I prompted with a small smirk. “What’cha got there?”

“This? My rosary.”

Your hand opens to a sterling silver crucifix rested on your palm attached to luminous pearls and red beads shaped like rosebuds at the “Our Father” mysteries. I didn’t know that these “sacred” objects could be customized as decorative jewelry instead.

“We like to have our own decorated rosaries here,” you suddenly explained like you’ve read my mind. “You can tell a lot about a student’s personality with how unique they are.”

My gaze suddenly wonders to your face that was emerged from the shadows. Even though my eyes were tense and my jaw was clenched, it felt as if my expression was gradually softening. Maybe it was the cigarettes slowly easing me. Who knows? But perhaps something clicked in my mind tonight; the unexpected scenario of you rather beguiling me. A woman with shameless passion for some deity capturing my attention— that's something I'll never forgive myself for doing.

"Can I see yours?" you suddenly asked, your eyes meeting mines for the first time it felt like you eroded my senses. Such an innocent and mindless question, but yet here I am; taking in your curiosity that was just as deadly as lethal drugs were to humans.

I dig into the pockets of my cassock and open my lifeless hand without a word. This was the rosary I was given when I was ordained; acrylic resin beads of black enamel and a translucent smoke color, glassy and polished like gunmetal. You scrutinized it like you were in an endless trance. I couldn't understand what a stranger like you found so fascinating about it.

“It’s so… you,” you mused.

I frowned slightly, not really understanding what that meant either. “Well if you like it so much, have it.”

But I guess I have emerged from the shadows too. Maybe the cigarette was enough to ease my palpable mood from such a fortuitous encounter with you. I didn't want our conversation to end, though. I didn’t want any of this to end so soon. I was starting to feel some sort of amusement. But it wasn’t until you looked at me, really looked at me; your sultry eyes simmering as you met with mines.

No words. No words at all. It was just the soft rain and your fingers grazing my palm ever so gently. Those lingering wet fingertips as you unravel the beads like how a god would trace the outlines of spiritual blood vessels. I look down again when my palm meets a cooler surface. Your pearl rosary was dropped right in my hand.

"Mine for yours," you muttered with a soft smile. "I'll give it back at the end of Mass."

And just like that you head down to the cathedral, leaving me alone to contemplate everything. It makes me realize how I didn't want anything to do with you at first. How I barely cared for people like you… But it wasn't until a wondering sheep like you made its way through the darkest route, like the valley of the shadow of death, encountering your sin and fate right there…

It makes me wonder. Would a stranger like you worship me like you worship your god?

When the rain had finally cleared and the light of the monochrome moon poured over, I decided to come to Mass a few minutes later. The Saturday Communion prayer was being recited as I sauntered to the pew where the rest of the clergy sat while. As much as I hate this job and find these practices meaningless to me, I needed to get paid for this shit.

"Most glorious virgin Mary, mother of god and our mother, turn thine eyes in pity upon us miserable sinners. . ."

There were different ways Catholics receive the blood and body for the Holy Sacrament. We let the devotees take the chalice by hand at the altar, store it until they get back to their seats to drink, or let us place the chalice on their lips. But such practices were painfully unappealing to me who gets bored and impatient easily.

Drifting my attention from the service, I scrutinize the gothic architecture of St. Reze. The rays of the moonshine from the mosaic suddenly coruscated the pearl rosary you gave me. The light captures my gaze as it shimmers in the palm of my hand. My thumb grazes the glassy material and the memory of us under the rain immediately lingered in the edges of my mind. I look through the crowd of heads to find your familiar face.

There you were.

I found this all so amusing of you; that redundant devotion you display so proudly for your god. When the prayer finally finished and the devotees walked out of their pew, I watched as they kneel at the altar with their elbows pressed on the mahogany bar as they await for Holy Sacrament. Majority took the chalice by hand while others took it to their seats. After giving out the elements of consecrated bread and wine, repeating the words, it was finally your turn.

You shot a quick glance at me as you kneeled at the altar and signed the cross; the pure epitome of surrender and submission. Never in my years of this life have I met a woman with this kind of sensuousness. Both of your hands laid on your thighs and your neck was arched back, lips parted like an invitation for the wine.

Titillating. The way look at me from below with a half-lidded gaze. Your eyes have betrayed your true nature, more prurient than the last time we stared at each other.

Exhilarating. The way your lips travel to the moist spout of the gold, letting the bitter wine ravish your tongue. I watched your neck, the way how you swallowed. A small drip escaped, trailing down your chin.

It was lucky for you nobody has drank from that chalice before. But nothing about this was holy. If anything, this was sacrilege. I'm not one to crave for anyone's attention, especially from one like you; but I've finally got to taste it this very fine night. If only you knew what you were doing to me right now…

No words. Just the intense undertones of temptation we have suddenly surrendered to. Because that… that felt like worship.

That was what worship feels like from a stranger like you.

Then you were gone. I couldn't recall much after that, but I do remember, how my eyes followed you the whole night, diverting my attention to you at a distance where you could never leave my sight. Only then had I come to realization of your luscious features and a savoring body, like the essence of sweet nectar and ambrosia.

I couldn’t wait to see you again at confessionals.

TAGS: @suget @azanthys @haezen @heavenlyevil @saturniac @vampnyx @emomanswhore @divinedabi @slut-manifesto

ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO/POISEUNS © 2023. originally published April 10, 2021. do not steal, plagiarize, or translate without permission. do not repost/share any of my works where minors have access.

#ཐི♰ཋྀ ⋆ 𝐆𝐎𝐃’𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄. ๋࣭ 𖤐 #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk toji #toji x reader

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mynicosensesaretingling · 6 months

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Lost in the moment (part 2)

Nico Rosberg x fem!reader

Summary: After their friendship ended unexpectedly, Nico and (Y/N) continued their lives on different paths, but what happens when they meet again? (part 2 of 2)

Warnings: Once again a little angst, female reader

Note: I was honestly surprised how well the first part of this fic was received. Thank you all so much for your feedback!

(part 2 of 2)

Find part 1 here: https://www.tumblr.com/mynicosensesaretingling/733720166569033728/lost-in-the-moment-part-1?source=share

Hope you enjoy <3

The years that followed were a relentless storm for both Nico and (Y/N), each navigating their separate paths with the ghost of their past lingering.

Nico’s championship victory and the soon-following retirement propelled him into the dazzling spotlight of Formula 1, becoming a charismatic figure both on and off the race track.

However, the memory of that final race continued to linger in the back of his mind, a bittersweet victory tainted by the absence of someone he had considered a confidante. Someone he had loved. Of course, he had seen the notifications of her calls once the celebrations had stopped. But whereas at first, he didn’t call her back simply out of spite and having been hurt, the more time went by, the more he feared actually hearing her speak his suspicions of having been betrayed into existence.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) on the other hand, had to face the daunting task of fighting her way back into the world of reporting. Having lost her job at Countdown Magazine , the young woman found herself feeling lost in the working world. The void left by Formula 1 was a constant ache, a reminder of the dreams she once had to forfeit and the pain of not having been there for Nico during his triumphant moment was an emotional wound that refused to heal, casting a lingering shadow on her achievements. However, she found that her luck hadn't completely run out, for after a few unsuccessful jobs, she was offered a position as a reporter for a small, upcoming motorsport journal called The Racing Project.

Although over the years both Nico and (Y/N) followed a similar career path, their paths did not actually cross until the much-anticipated Las Vegas Grand Prix.

The stage was set, the racetrack buzzing with fervour, as Nico stood filming a live segment in the paddock, delivering his commentary with practised ease. The cameras captured every word he spoke, but his mind was elsewhere. As he scanned the crowd, his eyes unexpectedly fell upon a familiar figure- (Y/N).

Time seemed to halt, the cacophony of the racing world drowned by a flood of memories and emotions. Nico’s heart quickened its pace, a turbulent storm surging within him. The very sight of his former friend, after all these years, sent his thoughts spiralling into a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

The ex-racer stumbled over his words, a subtle tremor in his voice betraying the storm of emotions raging inside him. “And…and as we witness this….um, remarkable race unfolding before us,” he managed to continue, though the words suddenly felt foreign on his tongue.

Nico couldn’t tear his gaze from (Y/N)’s form, caught between the past and present. The weight of their shared history bore down on him, each moment they had shared flashing through his mind like a movie reel. His eyes conveyed a mixture of surprise, longing and a hint of regret for the years of silence, that had separated them.

The subtle changes in Nico’s demeanour didn’t go unnoticed by the camera and crew. His usual composed demeanour wavered, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability surfacing in his eyes. The inner conflict that churned within him was evident to those who knew him well, a battle between the duties of the present and the ghosts of the past.

As the blond shrugged to maintain his composure, the words of the commentary became a blur as the realization that (Y/N) was back in his life hit him. He tried to regain his focus, attempting to steer the commentary back on track, but the presence of (Y/N) in the crowd continued to pull at the threads of his composure.

It wasn’t until the segment was finally finished, that Jenson, who had moderated the segment along with Nico and was well aware of the history between him and the female reporter, leaned in and whispered, “I didn't know that (Y/N) is working as a Formula 1 reporter again after her sudden release just before your championship race.”

Jenson’s statement led revelation to hit Nico like a tidal wave. The pieces of the puzzle all of sudden fell into place, and the weight of misunderstanding and regret bore down on him. “Excuse me.” Nico stuttered out, freeing himself of the broadcasting equipment before hurriedly plunging into the bustling crowd, determined to confront the past.

Rushing past crew members and paddock guests, his blue eyes scanned the crowd with restlessness before finally landing on the all-too-familiar shape of (Y/N).

“(Y/n),“ he called out, his voice carrying the echoes of years of silence.

Upon hearing his voice call out to her, the woman turned, eyes widening in surprise, before narrowing again in anger. The air around them was suddenly buzzing with the electricity of unspoken words and unresolved feelings. “Nico,” she replied coldly, her voice betraying a simmering anger beneath the surface.

Nico took a cautious step closer, the atmosphere fraught with tension. “I…I didn’t know. I thought you used me for stories. I didn’t know what happened that day.” his words came out rushed, as he struggled to keep up with his own thoughts. Lifting her chin, (Y/N) crossed her arms, a defensive gesture as she glared at him. “Well, glad you’ve figured it out by now.” her voice cut through the noise of the racetrack. “I lost my job, Nico. I lost everything I had worked for, and you didn’t even bother to hear me out. You think an apology fixes this?”

Nico reached for (Y/N)’s hand, a silent plea for understanding and forgiveness. “My mind was too clouded by the fact that you weren’t by my side during my victory, to be able to think rationally. I should have known.” he tried to explain himself, voice haunted by the regret of misplaced assumptions.

(Y/N) pulled her hand away from his grasp, a scoff escaping her lips. “Known? I would’ve never expected you to just know. But you should have asked, Nico. You didn’t give me a single chance to explain myself. Instead, you just disappeared.” with the last word, she jabbed an angry finger at his chest.

Nico opened his mouth to respond, but (Y/N) cut him off “ You don’t get to just waltz back into my life after all these years and expect everything to be okay. You have no idea what it was like for me, losing my job and feeling abandoned by my best friend.”

The man’s face fell, the reality of the pain he had caused written across his features. “(Y/N),please. I didn’t know the truth, and I-”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice sharp.”You didn’t bother to find out. You just assumed the worst, and I won’t just forget that.”

The tension between them was palpable as they stood there, the racetrack humming with the distant roar of engines. Whereas (Y/N)’s eyes held a mixture of anger and hurt, Nico felt the weight of his past choices pressing down on him. The heavy silence between them was once again interrupted by her voice, the anger now morphed into frustration. “You made your choice back then.” She sounded defeated. Nico struggled to find the right words, his chest tight with regret. “I messed up. I should have trusted you, and I’m sorry.”

Unwilling to meet his gaze, (Y/N) turned away. “Sorry doesn’t erase the past, Nico. I don’t need your apologies now, I got work to do.”

The gravity of her words hung heavily between them.Once determined to seek reconciliation, Nico faced the consequences of his assumptions.The racetrack, witness to their shared highs and lows, now became a battleground for a different kind of race- a race against time to repair the fractured bond between them. As they lingered in the charged silence, a new layer of tension emerged. The unspoken truth of feelings that had never found a voice in the past now hovered between them. They had danced around something more profound than friendship, an undercurrent of emotions that had remained buried.

Deciding to try a different approach, Nico’s tone softened. “Remember that night when I waited for you in the pouring rain?”

As she turned back around to him (Y/N)’s eyes flickered with curiosity, a hint of vulnerability breaking through her defensive stance. “What?”

Nico’s eyes nervously searched hers, an unsure, almost shy smile on his lips. “I stole that umbrella from Toto and to this day I am unsure of whether I was more nervous about waiting for you or the possibility of Toto finding out I was the reason he got drenched to the bone.”

A breathless chuckle broke through her frown, the sound like music to Nico’s ears. “You stole an umbrella from your boss, just so you could go on a walk with me?” her voice was laced with amusement and disbelief. “Mhm,” he hummed in response, his smile widening into a grin, blue eyes sparkling as he thought back to that very evening. “I actually hid around a corner for like 10 minutes, because I could hear how on edge he was, asking crew members about where his umbrella went.” A genuine laugh escaped (Y/N) at that, eyes glistening as she was hit by a wave of nostalgia. There was another moment of silence between the pair, although this time it felt more intimate.

“You know that when it came to us it was never about the job right?” her voice was barely louder than a whisper and if Nico hadn’t already been paying such close attention to her, he would have surely missed it.

His eyes bore into (Y/N)’s, the weight of her words sinking in. The revelation hung in the air, an unspoken truth that had shaped their past interactions. With her vulnerability laid bare, (Y/N) waited for Nico’s response, the air heavy with anticipation. In that moment the racetrack seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of them suspended in an emotional crossfire.

Nico, grappling with the unexpected confession, searched her eyes for clarity. The realization hit him like a thunderbolt. Their unspoken connection had always transcended the confines of a professional relationship, a truth buried beneath the surface of camaraderie and shared passion for Formula 1.

Studying his face, (Y/N) could watch as a myriad of emotions played across Nico’s face- surprise, regret and a hint of realization.

“(Y/N)”, he murmured, his voice tinged with astonishment and understanding, as his brain struggled to find the right words.

The woman’s gaze wavered, and she nodded, a mixture of sadness and acceptance in her eyes. “You were so focused on the rivalry and the championship, that I didn’t want to complicate things. I thought, maybe one day…” Her voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken “one day” hanging in the air.

Nico’s mind raced, grappling with the weight of missed opportunities and the realization of their connection has been far more profound than he had ever comprehended. “I had no idea. If I had known, I would have-” She cut him off, a bittersweet smile on her lips. “It’s in the past Nico. We can’t change it now.” Shaking his head, the blond reached out, tentatively taking (Y/N)’s hand and this time she allowed their fingers to intertwine, a silent acknowledgement of the emotions that had lingered, unspoken for years. “(Y/N), I wish I had known. I wish I had seen it then.” She met his gaze, the raw honesty of the moment reflected in her eyes. “We were caught in the whirlwind of the Silver War, and I didn’t want to be another distraction.”

Nico’s thumb gently traced circles on the back of her hand, as his gaze locked onto hers. “You were never a distraction, (Y/N).” Nico’s voice was stern. “If anything, you were the constant that I failed to appreciate.”

As they found themselves standing at the crossroads of what could have been and what might still be, their hands lingered together, a silent testament to the depth of their connection. The unspoken feelings that had been tucked away for years now demanded recognition, weaving an intricate tapestry of emotions.

Nico took a step closer, his heart pounding with a mixture of uncertainty and hope. “Do you think we could start over…try to make up for the time we lost?”

(Y/N) looked up at him, eyes meeting his, and he thought to see a flicker of hope in their depths. “Nico-” she sighed clearly conflicted “It’s not that simple. We’ve both changed.”

He nodded a sense of gentleness in his understanding gaze. “I know, but what if we explore what we have now?” he leaned in a little closer, hand reaching up to gingerly cradle her cheek. “Let’s start from here, from this moment. Forget the misunderstandings, the lost chances and see where this takes us.”

The warmth and sheer softness of his touch seemingly eased the mental conflict within (Y/N)’s mind and a tentative smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Will you steal another umbrella from Toto?” her question was accompanied by a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

The suddenness of her request made Nico knit his brows in confusion. Taking a second to process the question, this time it was him, who laughed in disbelief.

"Yes.” he chuckled, thumb tracing her cheekbone, loving eyes studying her face as to memorise every single feature. “I'd happily steal yet another one of Toto's umbrellas for you." Underneath his gentle touch, Nico could feel her timid smile grow into a cheeky grin. "Well, then I am happily willing to give us a second chance."

As they stood there, enveloped in each other’s presence, the soft glow of the racetrack’s lights painted their faces in a warm hue, mirroring the warmth that radiated between them. “I never thought I’d feel this way again,” Nico admitted, gaze still fixed on (Y/N) as if she held the answers to questions he’d never dared to ask.

“I’ve missed this” he muttered softly “Talking to you, being here, it feels like coming home.” (Y/N) felt the words dancing on the tip of her tongue but unable to escape. Her heart fluttered as she realized there were no words adequate to convey how she felt. With a quiet resolve, she slowly leaned in, breath mingling with his. Nico’s eyes widened slightly in surprise before softening, understanding dawning upon him. Time seemed to pause as her lips met his in a tender, feather-light kiss. It was a silent confession and a promise for the future.

Drawing back, a rosy hue dusted (Y/N)’s cheeks and if her heart hadn’t already been racing before, it certainly was now upon seeing the lovesick smile on Nico's face.

“Welcome home, Nico.”

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theregencywriter · 1 year

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(1) A Gentlemen's Pursuit - Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

~Colin returns from his travels with a new friend many expect him to marry, though he had no intentions of this. His brother benedict however, may need to....~

My Dearest Readers,

Oh, how the social elites continue to delight us with their ever-unfolding dramas and whispers of romance. Today, I bring forth the most intriguing news, for it appears that the charming Colin Bridgerton is about to be reunited with an old acquaintance, one whom he met on his travels abroad, and whose arrival is sure to set hearts aflutter.

It is my pleasure to reveal that she plans to stay in London indefinitely and will soon grace the city with her presence. Yes, my dear readers, the very same Miss l/n who has long been rumoured as the top contender for Colin’s affection.

Allow me to remind you of the history shared between Miss y/n l/n and Mr. Colin Bridgerton. They had first met during Colin’s travels around Europe, where they would frolic about the ruins of cities past, engrossed in the innocence of youth. Over their respective journeys, their paths diverged, and Miss l/n’s star rose within many a country’s social leagues, while Mr. Bridgerton pursued his fair share of less than respectable women. But as fate would have it, their paths are destined to converge once again.

Whispers of their reunion have already begun to circulate, and I can assure you, dear readers, that it promises to be a meeting of hearts and minds. Miss l/n’s wit, intellect, and unassuming beauty have long been expected to captivate the hearts of society, while Mr. Bridgerton's reputation as a debonair gentleman precedes him wherever he goes. One cannot help but wonder if their friendship will blossom into something more.

With Miss l/n's arrival imminent, I can only imagine the delight that will permeate the Bridgerton household. I envision stolen glances, heartfelt conversations, and perhaps even the rekindling of a flame that has smoldered quietly for ages. How thrilling it will be to witness the unfolding of this tale!

Thus, dear readers, I implore you to keep your eyes peeled and your ears open, for it is in these quiet moments that love often finds a way to take hold. Let us revel in the enchantment that surrounds the Bridgertons, for it is a testament to the enduring power of love and the possibility of second chances.

Yours in anticipation,

Lady Whistledown…

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

"Martine, must I endure this uncomfortable posture any longer? My arms are beginning to ache" Y/N pleaded, shifting in her seat while maintaining a firm grip on her fan. Its delicate feathers trembled slightly as she stole a glance through the window, yearning for a moment of respite. With an exasperated sigh, her stepmother’s maid responded, her voice tinged with impatience, "Yes, my dear, you must persist. The eager onlookers outside await your arrival. Remember, tomorrow night is your grand debut; a mere glimpse shall suffice."

The carriage advanced closer to the Bridgerton residence, nestled proudly within the esteemed Grosvenor Square. Y/N's eyes fell upon the grandeur of the house, causing her to lower her fan momentarily in awe. However, her maid's sharp instincts brought it back up. Inside of the home, the Bridgerton children played in the lavish drawing room alongside their e mother, while Eloise and Penelope accompanying them. During their gathering, a butler entered the room, his presence commanding attention, and announced with utmost formality, "Miss Y/N has arrived."

Upon hearing the news, Colin sprang from his seat with an eagerness that did not elude Penelope's keen observation. Since his return, he had not stopped speaking about his and Y/N's journey, leading Penelope to suspect that a proposal might be imminent. Despite never having met Y/N, a hidden resentment grew within her, concealed behind a carefully crafted smile.

The Bridgerton family sat in their residence anxiously awaiting her arrival, anticipation filling the air like a palpable force. Colin, though outside, found it difficult to contain his restless energy. He had spoken of Y/N with such fervour and adoration since his return that his family couldn't help but share in his excitement.

As they gathered near the entrance of the door to gaze down the hallway the Bridgerton siblings exchanged eager glances, their faces alive with curiosity. Eloise held her breath, a blend of sisterly anticipation and genuine interest for the newest addition to their social circle. Anthony, the dutiful older brother, attempted to maintain a stoic facade, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of intrigue. The younger siblings—Benedict, Colin's closest confidant, and Francesca—buzzed with whispers and barely contained excitement.

Their mother exuded an air of quiet authority as she surveyed the scene. A mix of hope and maternal concern danced in her eyes, for she wished nothing more than for her children to find happiness in love.

Finally, the sound of hooves reached their ears, growing louder with each passing moment. The tension in the air intensified as the carriage, adorned with elegant embellishments, came into view. The horses pranced along the beaten cobbled road, their coats reflecting the balmy afternoon sunlight.

With bated breath, the Bridgertons watched as the carriage gracefully came to a stop. The footman quickly descended, his precise movements reflecting the well-honed routines of the household. The door swung open, revealing Y/N, resplendent in a gown that blended sophistication and allure. The light caught her eyes, sparkling with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation.

As Y/N exited from the carriage, Colin's gaze locked onto her, his heart pounding within his chest. His eyes conveyed a mixture of awe and longing, as though he had found in Y/N something he had been searching for all his life.

The Bridgerton family, like a unit frozen in time, stood in awe of this new arrival. It was as if the world held its breath, recognizing the significance of this moment. Each member of the family had their own hopes and expectations, their own secrets and desires, intertwined with the arrival of Y/N—a figure who they had heard so much about.

After being helped out of the carriage y/n ran up to Colin, who picked her up by the waist and joyfully spun her around. The two shared a laugh that faded into glee as he lowered her down, their eyes still locked. “You’re here.” He spoke.

“I’m here” she returned.

Colin, ever the eager matchmaker, took Y/N's arm, guiding her towards the entrance of the house. His eyes shone with uncontainable delight as he led her through the hallway.

Within the drawing room, the Bridgerton siblings awaited their arrival, their gazes shifting from the entrance to Colin's expectant face. Among them stood Benedict, the second eldest Bridgerton brother, known by y/n for his artistic abilities.

As Colin and Y/N entered the room, the murmurs hushed, and all eyes turned towards the pair. Benedict's attention was instantly captivated by the sight of Y/N, a vision of beauty and elegance. He analysed the delicate brushstrokes of her features, the way her eyes seemed to hold a plethora of colours.

Colin performed the introductions with excitement. "Y/N, may I present my dear brother, Benedict Bridgerton," he announced, his voice carrying the weight of his fondness for both individuals. Benedict stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Y/N with curiosity.

Y/N curtsied gracefully, her movements reflecting a poise instilled by years of social etiquette. Benedict's eyes lingered on her, captivated by the grace and charm she exuded. He extended his hand, his touch gentle and warm as he took hers in his own. The moment their skin met, a jolt of electricity seemed to pass between them.

Their first words were exchanged, simple pleasantries that masked the intensity of the moment. Yet, beneath the surface, a silent understanding seemed to grow—a recognition of shared interests and hidden desires.

As she was introduced to the rest of the group Penelope stood next to Eloise. y/n curtsied towards her and smiled. “You must be Eloise. I’ve heard so much about you.” Y/n smiled, and as the real Eloise grinned Penelope struggled to keep composure. “I am not. I am Penelope Featherington, Eloise and Colins friend” Y/n apologised and continued on with her introductions, though she could not deny the burning feeling of Penelope’s eyes as she stared at her.

Colin stood next to Benedict as the other end of the line. “Rather beautiful is she not?” Colin said in passing.

“Yes, she is.” Benedict said as his voice trailed off, eyes fixated on her.

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 6 months

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Doctor Marathon (Fluff)

Bayverse!Donatello x reader

A short one with Donnie boy💜

I am a pretty big Doctor Who fan myself, and I refuse to believe Donatello wouldn’t like it. So here you get a nice evening cuddle on the couch with Donnie, watching some Doctor Who💜

Warnings: None, not even Doctor Who spoilers.

—-------------------------------------------

The soft glow of the TV illuminated the lair, casting a warm ambiance on the makeshift living room. Donatello and you were snuggled up on the couch, a cozy blanket draped over your entwined legs, a bowl of popcorn in Donnie’s lap, and enough juice boxes on the table to last you the rest of the evening. All of Donnie’s brothers and Master Splinter had retreated to their bedrooms for the night, leaving you and Donatello alone for your impromptu date night. It was a rare night when the chaos of the city above ground seemed to dissipate, leaving the two of you in a quiet sanctuary.

Donatello's three-fingered hand held the TV remote, scrolling through various options until he settled on one of his favorite shows – Doctor Who. He turned to you with a gleam in his eyes, his excitement palpable, as the still image of the 11th Doctor and Amy Pond illuminated the screen.

"Ready for some timey-wimey adventures, (Y/N)?" Donatello grinned, adjusting his glasses.

You chuckled, knowing damn well he quoted the wrong Doctor on purpose. "Always, Donnie. Your taste in TV shows is impeccable", you said, faking a British accent that made Donnie smile.

As the familiar theme music of Doctor Who filled the lair, you leaned against Donatello, feeling the comforting presence of his strong green arm around you. The show began, and you found yourself enthralled by the Doctor's - in this case Matt Smith - escapades through time and space.

"Imagine if we could time travel", Donatello mused, his voice soft, watching the Doctor run around the spaceship he, Amy and Rory found themself in. "We could go back and witness some of the most incredible moments in history".

You smiled. "Or forward, to see what the future holds. It'd be an adventure, for sure".

Donatello nodded, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your waist. The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, engrossed in the unfolding narrative on the screen.

At times, Donatello couldn't help but analyze the science fiction aspects of the show, sharing his thoughts with you. You listened attentively, reveling in the passion that shone in his eyes when he discussed the possibilities of time travel. That came with having a tech genius for a boyfriend. He just couldn’t help himself, and you found it adorable.

As the episode reached a particularly emotional moment, you felt Donatello's grip on your waist tighten slightly. Glancing up, you met his gaze, and there was a vulnerability in his eyes that made your heart swell with affection.

"I'm so grateful for moments like these," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "With you. Just being here, together, watching our favorite show. It's... everything."

You smiled, "Me too, Donnie. These moments are my favorite, too."

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, and you snuggled closer. The TARDIS on the screen whirred away, and you couldn't help but draw parallels between the Doctor's adventures and your own, albeit on a smaller scale. Like the Doctor, every other day was a new adventure for you and your turtles. You’ve met dimension traveling aliens and encountered high tech technology.

As the credits rolled from the 8th episode the two of you had watched that evening, Donatello turned off the TV, and you both sat in the quiet lair, surrounded by the comforting hum of machinery and the soft glow of monitors.

"Time well spent", he said, his gaze lingering on you.

You nodded. "Absolutely". You gave Donnie a small peck on the lips, smiling in delight. “Time is always best spent with my favorite doctor”.

Donnie frowned in confusion. “You mean Matt Smith? I thought David Tennant was your favorite Doctor”.

“I’m talking about you”, you laughed, bringing your face close to his once more. “My Doctor Donatello”.

Donnie studied your face, a smile spreading on his face. “I could get used to that name”.

And in that moment, surrounded by the remnants of a fictional time-traveling adventure, you couldn't help but feel that the best moments were the ones spent right here – in the present, with the turtle you loved.

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gale-gentlepenguin · 3 months

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Gale’s Analysis: Felix Fathom (The Shadow of Perfection)

I am a Felix enjoyer. I was fine with his introduction, and I was fine with his role in the story. And I never really looked too much into his stake in the story until we actually learn who and What he is.

(Spoilers if you haven’t seen it)

Felix is a Sentibeing, just like Adrien is. But he was created by his Father, Colt Fathom. Out of jealousy over Gabriel and Emilie’s child. Giving up his bodyguard in the exchange.

Colt felt his health decline and feeling as if he basically sold his soul blamed Felix’s existence for this instead of himself. It’s heavily implied there was abuse and that he may have even killed Felix by destroying his Amok once.

After learning the truth, Felix made it his goal to take the power that created him, so that no one would have to suffer like him.

Not knowing the details of how he was created, he first set his sights on the Graham de Vanily Rings. Believing they had the power he was looking for. He was dismissive of Adrien and looked to stir chaos, (in the episode, Felix) upon rewatch we see that Felix never meant to cause actual harm to Adrien, he only wanted a deal that would help him get the rings he wanted. Not caring about the people involved.

The next time we see him (In Gabriel) he has done more research and learned what the True item was that created him. The Peacock miraculous. And he had suspicion that Gabriel was the one who had it. So his goal, steal the Peacock. Of course, Felix failed to get it, BUT he did confirm Gabriel had it. Leading to his next plan.

In Risk and Strikeback. He saw his cousins vulnerability, and decided to use it to infiltrate the manor, while giving Adrien a break from his life. Perfect chance to get what he wanted. Of course Felix confirmed a LOT after that. Including that His Aunt was in a glass coffin. And thinking he got what he wanted, he left. Getting the information how to work the peacock and the peacock itself… unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. It was a fake peacock miraculous.

But as luck would have it, Ladybug showed up asking for Adrien’s help. (And Felix happened to be pretending to be Adrien) so Felix jumped at the chance. Getting ironically the Perfect power to get what he wanted.

And we see some hesitation before going forward with his plan… until he witnesses the death of the sentimonster strikeback. Being a Sentimonster himself, he knew he needed to go through with his plan.

And sure enough Felix trades the other miraculous AND the Ring he stole for the Peacock. The one thing he wanted to ensure HIS freedom.

But now that no one could Poof him with a snap of the fingers, his true plan could unfold.

The world of people that thought so little of sentimonsters… time for his people to rise up. Thus we get Emotion.

Felix in an ironic action Snaps away the people who threatened him. And actually does win… only to see the misery he inflicted on his cousin and the other sentimonster, Kagami.

After this Felix has to rethink his actions, as not all normal people are bad, and even with his power he can’t stand against Monarch/Gabriel now. As he revealed his hand. His chance was gone.

The only thing he could do. Try to help that Girl he met. Cue the Feligami. Because without a means to fight Gabriel and no way that ladybug or chat noir would trust him. He was SOL.

Until learning from Kagami that Marinette was Ladybug. Making her able to understand the situation. Someone that loved Adrien and understood Gabriel as a threat. She could hear his plea. He was convinced to trust her.

Thus, he explains the backstory to her resulting in the events of the finale.

___________________________________________

Now you notice how I called Felix the Shadow of perfection, in the title. It’s actually quite simple.

Felix is basically the shadow while Adrien is the light.

Adrien doesn’t know about the dark history. He doesn’t know Gabriel is Monarch, doesn’t know he’s a sentimonster, he doesn’t know about anything regarding his family’s past. Adrien only saw the good, the pleasant memories. All of that dark business is hidden, it’s in the shadows. That’s where Felix is. Felix is the Adrien of the Dark. He’s the one that learns the secrets, does the digging, handles all the grief and strain so Adrien can be the bright sun princess. Felix is the thief of the night. Even his creation was made with envy as the base emotion. Adrien was made of love, a bright emotion. While Felix of envy, a dark emotion.

Even Felix ending up with Kagami is fascinating because Kagami (her name being mirror) and Felix being a mirror of Adrien. It fits that Felix would relate to Kagami.

It’s also fascinating when we think of the promotional video. Felix was the original Chat noir, but before the show aired, he was replaced with Adrien. Only to then be rewritten into the show. He has become the shadow of his former self.

In the end, Felix couldn’t help in the final confrontation (ignoring writing choices) because he wasn’t one of the heroes. And Adrien couldn’t because he was left in the dark on all of the things he would need to know to be a part of the finale. Felix was the piece needed for the writers to write the finale as a final confrontation between Marinette and Gabriel. Because Adrien never knew and Felix wasn’t the hero of the story.

Ironic how both the light and dark were not complete and thus could not be present in the finale

#miraculous ladybug #ml #Felix fathom #felix graham de vanily #Gale’s analysis #ml season 5 #no season 5 spoilers

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pennyellee · 4 months

Text

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐈𝐈

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of God, violence, bloodshed, history class on lacrimosa yall, nudity, emotional distress, blood, manhandling, slapping, mentions of suicide, gun use, genitalia cupping, gaslighting, anxiety, strong language, threats, misogyny, old social norms, lies-lies-lies, bone crunching, physical violence, suicide attempt

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count of preview: 0,9K

w/c of the chapter: 12K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

a/n: so, here we go, if you thought that the last chapter was a shitstorm, the shitstorm ain’t over just yet, see yall at wednesday, this year’s valentine will be more red than usual ig 🫧🩸

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VII

Morning arrived with a soft glow, painting the room in shades of muted light where Yoongi’s fingers traced gentle patterns on her naked back.

“Breakfast is ready,” he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss on her forehead. She nodded, wordless.

The table boasted an array of dishes, their enticing aroma filling the air. Yet Y/N could not eat yesterday nor today, the food simply did not go down her system.

Yoongi’s gaze remained fixed on her from time to time, while he was reading today’s paper the maid delivered together with the breakfast. His eyes, like a silent observer, bore witness to the aftermath of a night. Y/N’s eyes were bloodshot, cheeks stained with dried tears, her neck bearing bruises. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon her, yet he held onto the hope that all would settle now.

Yoongi sighed and reached into the pocket of his black vest.

“I have not read it,” said he once they finished eating breakfast and sat down in the lounge room. Y/N’s eyes moved to meet him, anticipating his next step. She did not want to speak to him. She did not want to look at him nor she did not want him to look at her.

“I appreciate that,” said Y/N, avoiding his eyes. Yoongi sighed again, reluctant to relinquish leverage over her, yet compelled to address the matter at hand. Deep down, he hoped the contents of the letter would bring her solace, perhaps even warmth towards him. Now, he stood as a fool in the pouring rain.

He carefully handed the letter, urging her to open it.

“Thank you,” she whispered, tearing open the envelope and extracting the yellowed paper within.

She looked at Yoongi one more time, and when she saw him spreading out the newspapers, she was glad he gave her at least some degree of privacy. Her eyes fell upon the cursive symbols of her beloved aunt’s handwriting.

The memories flooded back as Y/N read the words on the aged paper, transporting her to a time when life was less complicated. Yet, she remembers clearly how she read the words detailing Wang Xiaoqing’s declining health, her world halted.

The air grew heavy with a mix of medicinal scents and the weight of impending loss. Her aunt, a pillar of strength, lay frail on the bed, and Y/N’s heart ached at the sight.

As she recalls her last moments with her while reading the neatness of her handwriting Y/N finally sees the truth. Her breath caught in her throat, vision blurred by tears. Clutching the paper tightly, she read the words repeatedly, struggling to accept their meaning.

“I need you to understand, my dear,” her aunt’s voice, weakened but filled with determination, echoed in the room.

“There are things, things I have kept from you to protect your soul and mind.”

Her aunt reached for her hand, the warmth of their connection grounding them in that vulnerable moment. The intricate dance between clans, the bloodshed, and the sacrifice her aunt had made to shield her from the harsh realities of their world.

“But it seems that my judgement was clouded—” In that moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, as if bracing for the revelation that would reshape the very foundation of her understanding. The vulnerability in her voice resonated with the unspoken sacrifices made for the sake of protection. Or at least that is what she thought she was doing by allowing Min Yoongi to take her into custody and use her as a leverage over the clans in negotiation of dominance.

“We do not have much time I fear,” her aunt continued, urgency etched into her every word. Y/N held her hand tightly, afraid to let her go.

“Once you burn me to ashes, I need you to run and not look back, Kai will help you get away—” a strong cough interrupted her speech and Y/N rushed to get her some tea to ease her throat. A bony hand landed on her forearm, stopping her in motion. Her eyes watered again at the sight of the state God let her aunt get in. Her fingers were turning purple and Y/N knew what that means. Oxygen was leaving her body and the end was near.

“Auntie—” she went to protest, at the time not understanding why she needed to run in the first place. But she listened carefully to her aunt and closely when her sore and painful voice mapped out her next steps.

Back then Y/N wanted to believe it was a sacrifice born out of love and the desire to break free from the cycle of violence that had ensnared their family for too long. And her aunt presented her a chance to not be in the middle of the fire.

Peace was a fragile illusion. Min Yoongi may be a titan among the outside world, yet within the confines of his own home, his dominion was about to face its greatest challenge.

Yoongi, engrossed in his reading, spared his wife the intrusion of his gaze, allowing her the solitude to grapple with the weight of her aunt’s revelations. Not having a clue what the dying woman could write.

The revelations echoed in the silence of the room, and when Y/N finally looked up from the letter, her eyes met Yoongi’s. The vulnerability in that moment transcended the complexities of their current situation, forging an unspoken false connection on his side rooted in pain and the unravelling of hidden truths. In a burst of fury, she lashed out.

“You’re a fucking liar.”

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝟏𝟒𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers ♥

lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

tag list: @beautifulcloudfestival - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyyyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss - @secfir - @btspurplesky - @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin - @selenophileforlife - @idkjustlovingbts

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ofcowardiceandkings · 10 months

Text

so in those [mumble mumble] years between BotW and TotK, the Zora replaced the weathered and unreadable monuments with new history writing by Sidon, and their contents have left me hmm emotionally compromised ??

i was gonna list em out in full but then i read them all and Sidon waffles so much bless him LOL

full transcripts below (+ the 11th monument in the Domain itself) expect Sidon being an adorable goof, Zora Deep Lore, waterbending, SO much gushing over Mipha and Link, Zelda being a sweetheart, and surprise Yona content !!!

just for clarity, i've highlighted the first word of each on-screen chunk of text ... i love Sidon so much but he's so verbose i kept missing the full log lol but im glad he went all in, its earnest, descriptive and poetic :') 💙 RIP the stonemasons ...

Learnings of the Zora, Part One The Waters of Zora's Domain As told by Prince Sidon

Long, long ago, right here in Lanayru, incredible transformations, both subtle and drastic in nature, shaped the land. The tall mountains birthed clouds, these clouds cried tears of rain, and this rain filled our deep valleys past the brim. In time, this overflowing water became the Zora River, which bred waterfalls that fell and nourished the vast Lanayru Wetlands. Perhaps it was inevitable that my Zora ancestors, who wandered in search of precious water, would finally settle here. The mountains of Lanayru are blessed with high-quality stone. The structures built from said stone are solid yet refined. Just like the Zora and our domain, our buildings exist in harmony with the water. It is a beautiful symbol of our way of life. If you go to the edge of the domain, close your eyes, and listen closely ... you shall be greeted by the gentle sound of water. This kind, soothing sound is a testament to the happy life the Zora are so grateful to have found here. As one born of royal Zora blood, my duty is as clear as it is unshakeable. I, Sidon, swear here and now ... I shall protect our home with my very life, that the gentle sound of water may never cease in our beloved domain.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Two The Legend of Ruto, Our Great Ancestor As told by Prince Sidon

It is written that long ago there was a strong-willed Zora princess who was as meandering as a winding river. This princess, who was dearly loved by her fellow Zora, was noble as she was innocent. Her name was Ruto. One day, a powerful and wicked man tried to take over Hyrule and brought great ruin to the once-peaceful Zora's Domain. Our tales speak of falled Zora soldiers drifting down the river as it sadly reflected the chaotic retreat of the terrified Zora. Princess Ruto bravely fought back her tears and she bore witness to the tragic misery unfolding in the domain. Even amid her heartbreak, the Zora princess did all she coult to help the weak and elderly escape. Next she swam against the river's current and climbed the mighty waterfall to challenge her foe. The details of this fight have fallen victim to the haze of time. Few details remain. Still, it is said she was aided by the princess of Hyrule and the hero of legend, and together they saved Hyrule. So the legend goes. I, Sidon, prince of the Zoram cannot help but ponder these events as I listen to the Zora children play in all their innocence. As Princess Ruta's descendant, it is my fate to carry the torch of her brave acts into tomorrow and beyond. I shall not fail.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Three The Great King Dorephan As told by Prince Sidon

Several springs after I lost my dear sister, Mipha, a large group of Lizalfos attacked the domain. It mattered not that this was my first true battle. The expectations of those around me weighed heavy on my shoulders. The absence of Mipha, who had always been there to encourage me with loving kindness, was like a spear to my heart. As for my own spear, though I was highly trained for its use, it seemed to only cut the air and slash the water's surface. I was taken off guard by a surprise attach from three Lizalfos hiding at the water's edge, each with their blade fixed on me. I knew that my time had come ... and that is when the three Lizalfos disappeared, as quickly as they had arrived. In their place, I saw the towering figure of my father, the great King Dorephan, who had just bested my foes with ease. "Sidon, my son," he said firmly. "You allwed your heart to falter. That is the quickest way to fall on the battlefield." His words cut deep, but as I stood on the brink of dispair, a familiar gently encouraged me. "Your king needs you." Many soldiers later attested they were certain they had also heard the sweet voice of Mipha on that day. From then on, my heart was true and my resolve firm. By lending strength to our king, we were able to save the domain.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Four Two Sisters of Different Blood As told by Prince Sidon

When I was young, I had an irrational fear of strangers. I was particularly bashful around Yona. Paralyzed, even. She was already so mature in manner, and she treated me like a little brother, even though we were not related. There came an unseasonably heavy rain that quickly flooded the river. Us children, who were playing there, were swept away. I was battered by the water's strong flow, my fins helpless to resist. It was Yona who dragged me to the safety of the shore. The water continued to swell as the shore waned, but Yona was unflappable, sweetly comforting me as I shivered in fear. It was Mipha, my dear sister, who finally showed up to rescue us with other Zora adults in tow. I still remember Yona's face as she gazed up at Mipha in admiration. My face must have looked the same as I gazed at Yona. As a child, I had two big sisters. One by birth and one by chance. Yona looked up to Mipha, and I was in awe of them both. Before I knew it, years had passed, and my feelings for Yona became more difficult to quantify. Then, one day ... My father informed me that the amazing young woman who had once been a like a sister to me was to be my bride. Perhaps these feelings and memories are too dear and private to commit to history, but such is the tale of this Zora prince.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Five The Zora Armor She Left Behind As told by Prince Sidon

For some time after I lost my beloved sister, even in the light shining on the water seemed dark and dreary to my eyes. But as they say, time heals all wounds, no matter how deep. I can now speak of her with a smile, as is only fitting. I shall now tell the tale of the Zora armor that my sister crafted for her future husband, as per our ancient custom. One dark day, the domain was in great peril, and I sought help from a traveling Hylian to save our home. He was sparing with his words, yet I trusted him at once. As fate would have it, he was a childhood friend of Mipha's. My father, King Dorephan, troubled by the domain's suffering, requested his help. The swordsman agreed without hesitation. Father bequeathed my sister's Zora armor to this courageous soul, along with her hopes for the safety of the domain. The armor fit Link perfectly - so perfectly that councilman Muzu, who then harbored a hatred of Hylians, could not object. My sister had already left this world, and with her went the dearly held intentions that she had instilled within that special armor. Yet, with Link's help, she shined a light on the Zora in our hour of need, reaching between worlds with gentle fingertips.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Six The Story of Mipha Court: The Beginning As told by Prince Sidon

There was once a terrifying monster on Ploymus Mountain, loosing shock arrows on all who dared to cross its path. It was of utmost importance to drive the beast away, but as the Zora are weak to electricity, our efforts were futile. That is when a lone Hylian arrived at the domain. This swordsman who was sparing with his words ... his name was Link. Unlike us Zora, he was immune to shocks! Well perhaps that is an exaggeration, but one thing is certain. He was very brave. After careful preparation, he ascended Ploymus Mountain and defeated the foul beast all by himself. As if in celebration of newfound peace, clean water mysteriously began flowing at the top of Ploymus Mountain. That is when many Zora, if not most, voiced support for building a place that all could enjoy in that formerly frightful spot. Yet the many tree roots and stones made this task tricky, leading to a focus on the no-less-difficult matter of the name. "Zora Park" was too obvious. "Ploymus Park" only conjured images of the former terrors found there. When I candidly asked whether we should focus on the hard work at hand rather than the name, they all turned my way. "Prince Sidon," they asked. "Surely you must have a good suggestion?" To that, I fell silent, and stayed so for a long while. I shall write the conclusion of this story on another monument.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Six The Story of Mipha Court: The Conclusion As told by Prince Sidon

The first half of this tale can be found on another stone monument. If it is not too much trouble, I advise reading that first. I now present the conclusion. When posed with the task of naming this storied location, I, Prince Sidon, fell silent. After a time, I timidly proposed the one and only name that came to mind for this place of newfound peace. I suggested that we name it after my beloved sister who had long been lost to us ... Mipha Court. I worried they would think I was unfairly favoring my own family's legacy by naming it after my kin. A hush fell over the group. After a time, one of the stonemasons raised his voice in agreement. More voices joined his, one after another. The idea was embraced whlly, and the craftsmen all returned to their work. Though the work was grueling, from then until the completion of Mipha Court, the air was filled with laughter and singing. This incident drove home to my very core how much everyone loved my sister. I hope one day to inspire such admiration. If there is ever to be a Sidon Court, I must work tirelessly to earn that honor.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Seven The Prince and the Swordsman As told by Prince Sidon

The rain always stops ... except when it does not. This humourous saying was once repeated with a soft chuckle around here. Then, one day, heavy rain started falling in the domain, and no matter how many days passed it did not cease. Although the Zora are a water-dwelling sort, we came to miss the warmth of the sun and dry winds upon our backs. Alas, as fervent as our desire was, we had no means of stopping the cause of this unprecedented disaster. When all had given up hope, I, Sidon, took it upon myself to invite a Hylian to the domain. This young swordsman of few words was named Link. I trusted him at once, sensing great devotion in his kind eyes. It was immediately clear that my instincts were correct. Thanks to Link, we were able to face the thread head on. Our battle with the source of the disaster was intense by my newfound friend and I refused to yield until we finally triumphed. Sometimes, writen words flow so much more readily than those spoken ... Link, my dearest friend, you are an unparalleled swordsman, and I admire you so very much. He may lack fins and gills, but it matters not. This hero among heroes exudes magnificence tempered with steadiness. Though we are different, our hearts both yearn to serve a higher calling. I learned much from him, and I am eternally grateful. As I recall my best friend, it occurs to me that though the rains have ceased, perhaps a true adventure never does.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Eight The Princess of Hyrule As told by Prince Sidon

One that despicable disaster had ceased to plague Zora's Domain, a distinguished yet humble lady paid us a visit. This young woman who appeared with Link at her side was none other than Princess Zelda of the royal family of Hyrule. "I beg forgiveness," she said earnestly. "Because of the royal family, Princess Mipha ..." She paused, unable to continue. Small, silent teardrops tumbled down her cheek and hit the floor, one after another, each saying a thousand unspaken words. She gently wiped her eyes and lifted her gaze to meet the king's, speaking kind words of gratitude for Mipha's sacrifice. We knew well that what had transpired was the result of a decision shared by the Zora and by Princess Mipha herself. There was no need for the princess of Hyrule's apology, and even less so for her sorrow. King Dorephan, along with the rest of the Zora, were moved by the depth of Princess Zelda's sincerity. She had held that unthinkable disaster at bay for nearly 100 years with nothing more than the sheer force of her own will. Yet she was not prideful. She dutifully set to work, traveling across Hyrule to secure cooperation for the kingdom's restoration. She was adored by all, yet so humble. She possessed an inner strength, but now I am not so certain. I feel a strong calling one day to acquire this same sort of strength within myself.

Learnings of the Zora, Anecdote One The Solid Water and the Fluid Spear As told by Prince Sidon

The Zora are not associated with water because of our dwelling place alone. We each also, to varying extents, possess the ability to actually manipulate water. We use this gift for many purposes. We use it to swim faster, to achieve mighty leaps from the waves below, to gather fish, and so much more. For me, the true awakening of this ability that many of my childhood chums already possessed came upon me quite suddenly. One day as I was training at Veiled Falls, the rain slickened my grasp, causing me to drop my spear. I reached to grab it, but it was already too far away. Soon it would fall to the bottom of the cliff, never to be seen again. I knew that I must take old of it, and at that moment, droplets created a stream extending from my outstretched hand. The water stream twisted and turned until it finally took hold of my falling spear and deftly returned it to my grasp. In that moment, the water was solid and my spear fluid. This sensation forever changed my approach to spearplay. I was reminded of how my sister, Mipha, described it ... and everything clicked. Water and spear became as one. Gaining yet another layer of admiration for my dear sister, I devoted myself to my spear training from then on.

Learnings of the Zora, Anecdote Two The Great Task Entrusted to Me As told by Prince Sidon

I, Sidon, was entrusted with the great task of renovating the Zora stone monuments that had fallen to ruin. There are 11 stone monuments total find in and around Zora's Domain, including the one you are now reading. The former text written by my father, King Dorephan, could not be salvaged, and so sadly it had to be replaced. Despite my royal blood, whispers abound that it is improper for someone my age to write over the king's glorious words. Ah, but do they not realize that it was King Dorephan himself who ordered me to undertake this restoration project? Father says it is not set in stone that I shall be the one to inherit the throne, as it is not a matter of blood alone. If we ask the eternal skies above whether I am fit to rule, they shall remain silent, and so we must look to our fellow Zora. He urged me to use these monuments to share my learnings and speak to our people straight from my heart. Father is older and wiser than I. His sage advice is a gift. As such, I have inscribed my thoughts upon these 11 stones. I do not know how far-reaching my words shall be, but it is my hope that they will reach whoever needs to hear them most. Until one of the descendants writes over my musings many years from now, I pray they resonate with whoever reads them.

WELL there we are, thanks for the history lesson Sidon you absolute sweetie fhjdkdjf i have thoughts and feelings and emotions but i wont make this post any longer than it already is but i love these characters byeeeEEE

#the legend of zelda #the legend of zelda: tears of the kingdom #tears of the kingdom #legend of zelda lore #loz totk #loz lore #totk lore #totk zora #totk spoilers #tears of the kingdom spoilers #zoras domain #prince sidon #totk sidon #zelda blogging #botw/totk blogging

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sunflowerabyss · 5 months

Text

Charms of Fate: Chapter 1

Paring: Remus Lupin x Fem!Professor!Reader

Series Masterlist

Plot: Amidst the echoes of a bygone era, you return to Hogwarts years after parting ways with Hogwarts. What begins as a journey fueled by nostalgia transforms into an unexpected reunion with Remus Lupin, now a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. As the past intertwines with the present, the two former classmates navigate the complexities of grief, the resurgence of friendship, and the unwritten chapters of their shared history in this tale of rediscovery and the magic that binds them together.

Warnings: mention of character death

A/N: Hello! Welcome to the first chapter of Charms of Fate! This is the first fanfiction I have written in a bajillion years. So here is my current obsession--Remus Lupin.

__________________________________________________________

You stepped onto the train, finding an empty cabin before placing your bags in the compartment above the seats. Huffing, you sat down, pulling out the wrinkled letter you had received only a short month ago. Dumbledore's neat cursive stared back at you in green ink and you fondly remember your first letter from Hogwarts. You smiled sadly as your mind began to drift to the days of your youth.

It was the spring of 1978, and the air at Hogwarts was tinged with the scent of blooming flowers and the bittersweet realization that it was the last day you would walk these halls clad in your Gryffindor robes. You and Lily Evans, the uncommonly kind girl you grew close with over the years, joined her boyfriend James, and his friends Sirius, Peter, and Remus in celebrating the end of your magical journey.

The Great Hall was adorned with festive decorations as laughter and joy echoed through its grandeur. Remus Lupin, the quiet and thoughtful member of the Marauders, caught your eye more often than not. Throughout the last year, you and Remus had gravitated towards each other, drawn together by shared interests and a subtle understanding that words couldn't quite capture.

As the day unfolded, you and Remus found yourselves in moments of quiet conversation, away from the boisterous pranks and laughter of the others. His brown eyes held a warmth that mirrored the budding spring outside, and his words carried a depth that resonated with you on a profound level.

When the time came to say your goodbyes, you exchanged promises to keep in touch. But, as life often does, it threw you and Remus onto different paths. Owl-post became infrequent, and the ties that once bound you to the magical camaraderie of Hogwarts began to loosen.

Years passed, and the connection with Remus faded into the echoes of memories. Life unfolded with its trials and tribulations, and the once-prominent figure of Remus Lupin became a distant echo from the past.

As you reflect on that last day at Hogwarts, you wonder where life took Remus and if the paths that once intersected would ever cross again. The nostalgia of youthful friendships mingles with the ache of time's passage, leaving you with a lingering sense of loss and a yearning for the connection that slipped through your fingers after that bittersweet graduation day.

The vibrant memories of Lily and James' wedding lingered in your mind—the joyous celebration, the laughter, and the shared happiness as you stood by your best friend on her special day. The joy only multiplied when Lily announced her pregnancy, and you were there, witnessing the excitement in their eyes as they shared the news.

The day Harry was born brought tears of happiness to your eyes as you cradled the small bundle of joy. Little did you know that those precious moments would soon be overshadowed by the darkness that would shroud the wizarding world.

Halloween 1981, the news of Lily and James Potter's tragic demise, and Sirius Black's descent into Azkaban sent shockwaves through your body. Your dearest friends, gone. The memories of joy turned into haunting echoes of grief, leaving you lost and depressed.

Desperate for a connection, you tried to reach out to Remus, penning letters that poured out your heartache and longing for solace. Yet, as time passed, and the owls returned without a reply, you gave up hope, feeling the weight of isolation settle over you like a heavy cloak.

In an attempt to escape the suffocating darkness, you found employment in the Ministry of Magic. Modifying memories and undoing magical damage became a temporary refuge, a way to numb the pain that seemed insurmountable.

Life took an unexpected turn when an owl arrived with a letter from Dumbledore, offering you the position of Charms professor at Hogwarts. The prospect of returning to the place where memories were both joyful and painful filled you with mixed emotions. Hesitantly, you accepted the position, leaving behind your job at the Ministry of Magic for a chance to share your knowledge with a new generation.

As the train began to move, you were glad for some solitude in your cab, relieved you didn't have to make small talk. The Hogwarts Express rumbled along the tracks, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels providing a comforting backdrop as you read Dumbledore's letter for the umpteenth time:

"Dearest (Y/N),

I trust this owl finds you well. It is with great pleasure and anticipation that I extend an invitation for you to join the esteemed faculty at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Professor Flitwick, our longtime Charms instructor, has chosen to retire early, and your name emerged as a fitting successor.

Your expertise and dedication to the magical arts have not gone unnoticed. I believe your return to Hogwarts will enrich the academic environment and inspire the next generation of witches and wizards. The position is yours should you choose to accept, and I look forward to welcoming you back to the castle.

Yours sincerely, Albus Dumbledore Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry"

You sighed, folding the letter before shoving it into your coat pocket. You leaned your head against the window, watching the scenery go by. As the train journey unfolded, the nostalgic reverie was interrupted. Abruptly, the train jolted to a stop, jarring you from your reverie. You furrowed your brow in confusion, wondering what could have caused the sudden halt. Peering out of the compartment window, you noticed the somber atmosphere that had settled over the train.

A hushed murmur passed through the train, and a shiver ran down your spine as an eerie chill filled the air. The familiar warmth of the Hogwarts Express seemed to dissipate, replaced by an unsettling stillness.

In the corridor, shadows flickered ominously, and the ambient hum of conversation turned into uneasy whispers. Your confusion deepened, a sense of foreboding settling over her. Unaware of the impending encounter with Dementors, you exchanged puzzled glances with fellow passengers.

The compartment door slid open, revealing a group of hooded figures moving purposefully down the corridor. The air grew heavy with despair, and you felt an unexplainable weight on your chest. The dim light in the compartment seemed to dim further, casting an eerie pallor over everything.

A fleeting thought crossed your mind, wondering if this was some elaborate prank. However, you remember what you saw in the weekly newspaper, and you feel your stomach churn. The Ministry was looking for Sirius Black.

The chilling presence of Dementors filled the cabin, and your confusion gave way to a subtle dread. Your breath caught in your throat as the hooded figures glided past the compartment before leaving altogether. The inexplicable feeling of despair hung in the air, and you found yourself grappling with an emotion you couldn't put your finger on.

Peering through the compartment window, you caught sight of a man walking to the front of the train, obscured by shadows. A familiar chill ran down your spine, but you couldn't quite discern his identity.

As the train resumed its journey, the weight lifted, but the encounter lingered in your mind. The transient confusion had given way to a deeper awareness that the journey back to Hogwarts held more mysteries than you had initially anticipated.

The remainder of the journey was thankfully uneventful, and exhaustion from the emotional rollercoaster led you to drift into a restless sleep. Just before fully surrendering to dreams, you heard the door to your compartment creak open slightly, a subtle intrusion that left you with a sense of curiosity.

You felt the train gradually slow down, pulling you from your slumber as it came to a halt. With a weary sigh, you gathered your belongings, the excitement of returning to Hogwarts now tinged with a layer of apprehension. As you stepped off the train, the castle loomed in the distance, its silhouette etched against the dark sky, and you couldn't shake the feeling that this return held more than just the promise of new beginnings.

Before you knew it, you were standing outside of the castle where you spent many of your adolescent years. Dumbledore welcomed you warmly, his blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles. "Ah, (Y/N), my dear. It warms my heart to see you return to Hogwarts. Your presence is a boon to our magical community."

"It's good to be back headmaster," you replied, a genuine, but tired smile on your face.

Dumbledore gestured towards the castle. "Before we delve into matters, let me help you find your living quarters. It has been some time since your last stay, and the castle may seem like a labyrinth."

Grateful for the guidance, you followed Dumbledore through the bustling platform and into the castle. The familiarity of the stone walls and the shifting staircases stirred a cascade of memories.

Dumbledore led you through winding corridors and staircases until you arrived at a charming wooden door. "Here we are, (Y/N)," he announced. "Your living quarters for the foreseeable future. I trust you'll find them quite comfortable."

As you stepped inside, the room revealed itself to be a cozy haven, adorned with warm colors and inviting furniture. It felt like a sanctuary within the castle's magical embrace.

"Take your time settling in, (Y/N)," Dumbledore advised. "Once you're ready, please join me in my office. There are matters we must discuss."

With a nod of gratitude, you watched as Dumbledore left, the door closing gently behind him. Alone in the room, you took a moment to absorb the atmosphere. Hogwarts felt both familiar and different, as if the castle itself held the secrets of a thousand stories.

After gathering your thoughts and putting your things away with the flick of your wand, you made your way to Dumbledore's office, guided by the familiar twists and turns.

As you entered Dumbledore's office, your eyes were drawn to the man already seated in one of the chairs facing the headmaster's desk. Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling, acknowledged your presence.

"Ah, (Y/N), right on time. Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing to the remaining chair across from the mysterious man.

As you approached, the man's head turned in your direction, and your breath caught as you met his gaze. It was Remus Lupin, his warm eyes holding a mixture of surprise and recognition.

"(Y/N)," Remus uttered, his voice a quiet revelation that resonated in the room.

"Remus," you replied, a mixture of astonishment and joy coloring your tone. The room seemed to hum with unspoken emotions as Dumbledore observed the reunion.

"I believe introductions are in order," Dumbledore began, his eyes twinkling knowingly. "Remus Lupin, allow me to introduce (Y/N) (L/N), our new Charms professor. And (Y/N), this is Remus Lupin, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

Your eyes locked, and a wave of nostalgia washed over you. It felt as though the years melted away, leaving only the echoes of your shared history.

"Quite the unexpected reunion, wouldn't you say?" Dumbledore remarked with a knowing smile, his gaze shifting between you and Remus.

Dumbledore leaned back in his high-backed chair, his fingers steepled beneath his bearded chin. The soft glow of the room's ambient light seemed to dance in his half-moon spectacles as he addressed the formalities.

"(Y/N), Remus, I trust that you both find your roles at Hogwarts both gratifying and challenging. The responsibilities that come with being educators are vast, but the rewards are immeasurable," Dumbledore began, his tone measured and grandfatherly.

"As our new Charms professor, (Y/N), I have every confidence that you will impart your extensive knowledge and passion for magic to our students. Your return is a welcomed addition to our academic family."

Turning his gaze to Remus, Dumbledore continued, "And Remus, my dear friend, I cannot express how pleased I am to have you back within these hallowed halls. Your dedication to the Defense Against the Dark Arts position is both admirable and much needed in these uncertain times."

You nodded appreciatively, the gravity of your role sinking in. Remus, too, inclined his head in acknowledgment of the responsibility entrusted to him.

"Now, as we embark on a new school year, I must emphasize the importance of unity among the staff. The challenges ahead will undoubtedly require cooperation and understanding. I trust that both of you will uphold the values that Hogwarts holds dear," Dumbledore concluded, his gaze shifting between you and Remus.

Dumbledore's gaze, though kind, became somber as he broached another topic. "There is one more matter we must discuss, one that may cast a shadow over the upcoming term. Sirius Black, a name that resonates through our world with both tragedy and mystery."

He paused, allowing the weight of the name to settle in the room. "(Y/N), Remus, though I am sure you have already heard, I must inform you that Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban. The circumstances surrounding his imprisonment are murky, and the Ministry is fervently searching for him."

A heavy silence hung in the room, the mention of Sirius Black injecting an undercurrent of tension. "(Y/N), as a member of the Hogwarts staff, and Remus, given your history with him, I must ask you to exercise caution. The safety of our students is of the utmost importance." Remus nodded solemnly, his expression reflecting the complexities of emotions tied to his old friend.

Dumbledore, sensing the gravity of the discussion, allowed a soft smile to touch his lips. "Now, my dear professors, let us not let these dark times overshadow the joyous occasion of your return. We have much to celebrate and look forward to. I invite you both to the Great Hall for dinner. I shall be along in a few minutes."

You and Remus exchanged glances before standing up and shuffling out of the door. As they exited Dumbledore's office, the bustling sounds of students and the aroma of a delicious feast wafted through the air.

"Well, I must say, this a delightful surprise," Remus said, a warm smile on his face.

You glance up at the man who kept his gaze forward before replying, a small smile of your own settling across your lips, "It's been far too long."

As you both walked side by side towards the Great Hall, the echoes of shared memories and the gaps of time that separated you created a subtle tension in the air. You couldn't help but notice the height difference between you. Remus towered over you, his tall and lean frame drawing attention. His attire, while seemingly a bit outdated, exuded a timeless charm that suited him well. You observed the scars on his face, a feature that had always intrigued you. The origin of those scars remained a mystery. Yet rather than diminishing his charm, the scars seemed to enhance it, giving him an alluring and rugged quality.

"I've missed this place," Remus admitted, glancing around the familiar surroundings.

"So have I," you agreed, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips.

Remus looked like he wanted to say something, a question or perhaps a sentiment left unspoken for too long.

Yet, after a moment of contemplation, he chose not to voice whatever was on his mind. The unspoken words lingered, leaving a trace of curiosity in the air, but Remus simply offered you a small, reassuring smile. The awkwardness of the silence melted away as the doors to the Great Hall swung open.

As the grand entrance of the Great Hall loomed before you both, Remus, ever the gentleman, gestured with a slight bow, indicating for you to go in first. A faint smile played on his lips, and his hand gently touched the small of your back as you stepped through the massive doors.

The contact was subtle, a genteel gesture that spoke volumes. The warmth of Remus's touch sent a cascade of emotions through you—nostalgia, familiarity, and perhaps something more.

The Great Hall greeted you with its radiant glow, its enchanted ceiling mirroring the starry sky. The tables were laden with delicious dishes, and the murmur of animated conversations echoed in the cavernous space.

Remus followed closely behind, his presence a comforting anchor. The touch on your lower back lingered just long enough to create a lingering sensation, leaving you in a state of gentle bewilderment. It was as if the touch carried the weight of unspoken words, a silent acknowledgment of the shared journey that had brought you back to Hogwarts.

As you both found your seats at the professor's table, the emotions stirred by that fleeting touch lingered, adding a layer of complexity to the reunion. The unspoken connection between you and Remus seemed to dance in the air, an undercurrent that wove through the fabric of the magical atmosphere. Dumbledore opened with a welcoming speech, introducing you and Remus as the new Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, to which you both shyly stood and waved. As the feast unfolded, the feeling of that small, tender touch lingered, leaving you with a sense of warmth and anticipation that awaited the new school year.

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