#By starting completely over from scratch than hoping you fixed it and then spinning the canvas for 7 hours trying to clean stray lines

[pirefyrelight]

[harrydracobang]

Harry/Draco Big Bang Week #1 Round-Up

Below you'll find a round-up of all of our amazing submissions that have posted during our first week of @harrydracobang​! 

We hope you’ve been enjoying all the novel-length Drarry and amazing art so far, and we want to thank everybody who has been following the fest and supporting our participants with comments, kudos and recs! You are amazing and we know for certain our fantastic artists and writers appreciate all your support! <3

The next fic will go up tomorrow, and we still have one more week of amazing fic and art, but for now, check our first week below to make sure you didn’t miss anything. Don’t forget to leave some love for our participants as you make your way through the submissions!

Make Yourself written by @anyaelizabethfic​ with art by @zigster-ao3​ [Explicit, 103k] Summary : Harry just wants to be safe within the freshly painted walls of Grimmauld Place, with his friends around him. But when he hears Draco Malfoy has been spotted at the local soup kitchen, he can't help but encourage a different type of stray to come under his roof. -Zigster's Tumblr Art Post 1 -Zigster’s Tumblr Art Post 2

sweeten to taste written by @bigblackdogfic​ with art by @babooshkart​ [Explicit, 51k] Summary: It starts with Draco's buckwheat crepes with honeyed oranges. Or maybe it starts with his porridge with toasted walnuts and homemade apple butter. Or perhaps it starts with the cinnamon buns Draco made from scratch with mascarpone icing. Harry just knows he's hungry for more. -Babooshkart’s Tumblr Art Post

Graceless Heart written by @orange-peony​ with art by @chuckalart​ and @secretartlair​ [Explicit, 132k] Summary: Harry is lost and broken after the war. He has gone to countless funerals, broken up with Ginny, moved back into Grimmauld Place—which feels darker and dirtier than ever before despite how much he tries to fix it. He feels lonely and desperate, but he won’t ask for help, and he still can’t cry.

When he agreed to help the Aurors at Malfoy Manor over the summer, he thought that he would be breaking dark curses. Harry never thought that he would actually spend his days sorting out dusty books with Draco Malfoy, or teaching him how to cook.

Little by little, as they begin to navigate their life post-war, Harry and Draco become intimate…in more ways than Harry could have ever expected.

See How They Run written by @harryromper​ with art by @inveigler81​ [Mature, 51k] Summary: Harry’s living above the shop in Knockturn Alley, working as a private detective after a failed stint as an Auror, when he gets an invitation from Luna Lovegood to the last place he could have imagined: Malfoy Manor.

As Luna and Draco’s friends gather for the weekend, it isn’t only memories of wartime violence that surface. It seems that a lot of the guests have things they want to hide, including murder.

It falls to Harry to solve the mystery, and while he’s at it, to untangle his feelings for Draco Malfoy once and for all. -Inveigler81′s Tumblr Art Post 1 -Inveigler81′s Tumblr Art Post 2

Brave Though The Stars They Make Me written by @dwell-the-brave​ with art by @puncertainty​ [Mature, 108k] Summary: After the events at the end of his Sixth Year, Draco Malfoy has been kept all but prisoner in his childhood home, Malfoy Manor. Alone, terrified, and desperate for some way out, he begins to have strange dreams - dreams of Harry Potter. Are they a trick of his mind? Or are they a way to change his fate, and a chance at redemption? -Puncertainty's AO3 Art Post -Puncertainty's Tumblr Art Post

Nor All That Glisters written by @sweet-s0rr0w​ with art by @deancebra-art​ and @fantalf​ [Explicit, 110k] Summary: Lonely and frustrated on house arrest, with no prospects for the future, Draco begins brewing Felix Felicis in an attempt to improve his lot. Just in the short term, of course. He isn’t a total idiot.

But before long he finds himself with a thriving business, a nice flat, some actual (albeit irritatingly Gryffindor) friends, and a very satisfying sex life. What’s more, no-one is hexing him in the street. And Harry Potter is single, and gorgeous, and giving Draco decidedly interested looks.

Stop taking the Felix? You must be joking… -Fantalf’s Tumblr Art Post

spins madly on written by asofthaven with art by @iaooa​ and Monotremata [Teen, 56k] Summary: As part of his probation, Draco Malfoy returns to Hogwarts to complete his N.E.W.T.s. Gobstones, the political machinations of the Hogwarts student body, and one Harry James Potter captures Draco’s attention instead. -Iaooa’s Tumblr Art Post

Chasing Shadows written by @manixzen with art by @avaeryn [Explicit, 93k] Summary: The murder of Lucius Malfoy seems impossible—no cause of death, no traces of spell-work, no potions in his system. The only leads Harry and his partner have are the trail of missing wizards the deeper they go. That and the help of the victim’s estranged son who now spends his time bartending at a queer-friendly Muggle pub.

A case fic featuring a closeted Harry Potter, an out-and-proud, tattooed Draco Malfoy, and a murder mystery that seems to lead to more questions than answers.

Home Truths written by @skeptiquewrites​ with art by @fantalf​ [Explicit, 67k] Summary: In the off-season Harry decided to fix up Grimmauld Place and found that Draco Malfoy was the only person who could help him. A demanding career and unrelenting press scrutiny were enough to deal with before Harry added a house with a mind of its own, family history, and a tense, flirty, complicated relationship with his childhood nemesis to the mix.

On professional Quidditch, magical houses, hard choices, Life Debts, and inconvenient truths. -Fantalf’s Tumblr Art Post

The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets written by @iero0​ & @ladderofyears​ with art by @egggnoodles​ and @faevorite-main-blog​ [Explicit, 287k] Summary: Hogwarts is the very last place that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy want to return to after the war. The Castle feels claustrophobic and stifling. Both feel trapped within its walls.

Harry is traumatised by the war, by his sudden breakup from Ginny, and by the knowledge that his friends all know what they want to do with their life.

Meanwhile Draco is reeling. He has narrowly escaped an Azkaban prison sentence and is struggling under the strict rules of his probation. He doesn't know where his mother is, and finds himself a pariah among the other students.

The last thing that either student wants is mandatory Mind Healing. What has happened to them feels so big and devastating, that writing to a stranger feels farcical.

Even so, they are not given a choice.

Harry and Draco are both given a shared magical diary, and soon they begin writing letters to an anonymous fellow student.

Their letters, terse at first, grow longer as the days pass. Before long, each wizard confesses their secrets and their fantasies, their wishes and their dreams.

What will happen when their true identities are exposed? Will their vulnerable new relationship be destroyed before it has even begun? -Egggnoodles Tumblr Art Post

A Sense of Scale written by @fantalf​ with art by @dragontamerdame​  [Mature, 71k] Summary: Potter merely shrugged, as if it was nothing. After all, it wasn’t his life’s work. “You can try to win it over.” Draco snapped, “What?!” “The school. Win it over.” “How the fuck do I win a school over, Potter?! It’s a bloody school, not a person!” And he didn’t win people over that easily, overall. “I don’t know. Use your charms. I know you to be very inventive.” —— In which Draco spends an obscene amount of time thinking of new nicknames for The Living Git, lying to himself and using his charms to seduce an extremely uncooperative sentient school.

Independent Art: Homage by @cambiodipolvere​ [General] Summary: A space between dangling feet, less than a foot.

[seasteading]

so you're missing a plot

over the course of my 3+ years on writeblr and some time on writing twitter, i’ve noticed that a lot of people can come up with characters and worldbuilding, but then get stuck on creating a compelling plot around those characters. so, here are a few tips that have helped me, and that i hope will help you too!

note: this will apply mostly to fantasy and sci fi, since that's what i write and what tends to have more plot-heavy storylines. 

these are also all my opinions! you don’t have to listen to any of this—all of these are tips that i’ve used in my own experience, and what works for me won’t necessarily work for you.

tone

this is one of the first things you want to decide. even within the same genre, you’re going to have a lot of variety in tone and atmosphere. the kind of plot that works for a fun fantasy adventure romp might feel odd and out of place for a darker fantasy with an emphasis on political intrigue. to figure out what kind of tone works best for your wip in particular, you want to look back at your characters. writing is a massive investment of time and energy, so you want to go in a direction that’s actually interesting to you. this is the very first step, and will help you decide what direction you end up going, and will most importantly give you a hint towards what ending will best suit the story you’re trying to tell. if you go with a more lighthearted tone, then suddenly having a tragic ending won’t make any sense since it’s the equivalent of a bait-and-switch. the same applies for having a darker tone—a happily ever after where everyone lives and gets therapy won’t necessarily fit. 

worldbuilding

worldbuilding is important of course, but it doesn’t need to be completely developed before you start coming up with a plot. in fact, you should try to avoid dumping all of your time into worldbuilding, and instead get the basics down before moving onto the plot. i’m sorry to say it, but you’re not tolkien. you will never be tolkien, and you don’t have to aspire to be like him either. you don’t want to write yourself into a plothole because something in your worldbuilding ends up conflicting with the story, so generally it’s good to have a little bit of wiggle room. sometimes you also run into a situation where the plot itself inspires an important piece of worldbuilding that makes the story richer and more interesting. your worldbuilding is there to enrich your plot and inform your character motivations, not the other way around. however, you do want to establish any rules your world has before getting into the plot, since breaking them can itself become a driving factor in characters and their arcs. this is especially common in fantasy, where a frequent premise lies in the fact that everybody can’t use magic while the protagonist can, or the other way around. this isn’t a plot quite yet, but it can be a good starting point.

character driven vs. plot driven

you will also need to decide the main focus of your story. character-driven writing is common in literary fiction and shorter works, and it’s focused specifically on the internal conflict within characters, as well as their thoughts and personal arcs. few external events are going to happen in character-driven stories, which tend towards more towards slice-of-life where not much really happens but you’re still invested due to the characters. plot-driven writing puts emphasis on (you guessed it!) the plot, and this is a lot more common for longer works. the two can and do certainly overlap, but most works tend to lean a bit more one way or the other, and you can determine this by asking whether you’re more interested in the characters as people or in what happens to them. 

motivation

so now that you have an idea of the direction you want to go, how do you actually come up with your plot? no matter if your story is character driven or plot driven, you still need compelling characters, and one way to find your plot is to look at their motivations. every one of your characters should have something they want to achieve or to obtain. your character’s want is going to be their main driving motivation. something is wrong in their life—if it wasn’t, then you wouldn’t be writing this story—and they think that obtaining what they want will fix it. this can be a macguffin-style quest for an object/place/person, the desire to climb the social ladder, solving the mystery behind a disappearance, etc. at this point, i would recommend taking a look at media with similar character motivations to yours and dissecting them to see what works and what doesn’t. you want to be genre-savvy and know what tropes are common to the type of story you’re telling.

gay is not a plot

repeat after me. gay is not a plot. gay is not a plot. gay is not a plot. there should be something to your wip’s plot other than “they’re gay, what more do you need?” (see this post). a romance isn’t going to be interesting if the characters aren’t interesting on their own, and that requires them to actually have their own motivations which (see motivation) themselves create the basis for a plot! in that same vein, having representation shouldn’t function as your plot or your primary selling point. representation should be a given, and making that the only descriptor for your work essentially boils down your characters to just their marginalization.

retellings

i know retellings of fairytales, myths, and shakespeare’s plays have gotten really popular, especially as of late. retellings are a great starting point since they already give you a base off which to work with, and instead of having to come up with all of your concepts from scratch, it becomes a question of putting your own spin on them. these tend to require some knowledge of the genre and common tropes, which you should have regardless of whether you’re writing a retelling or not. here, instead of having characters and a world first and a plot second, you’re working backwards from an existing work to reinterpret the characters and world surrounding a common plot. the important thing to note is that just because you have a starting point doesn’t mean that your work is done—i’d recommend researching other variations of the story you’re retelling and cataloguing similarities and differences, what works and what doesn’t, and moving things around/restructuring them depending on the changes you yourself want to make in your retelling.

prompts

i actually wouldn’t recommend relying on generators and prompt lists for your plots, since they tend to be extremely vague and difficult to get invested in, since you weren’t the one to come up with them. prompts can be really good for sparking inspiration, though, and once you get an idea for a few scenes, you can build off of them to figure out what circumstances lead to each one and what the pivot points are. prompts are a useful tool, but shouldn’t be used as the basis for your entire story.

final thoughts

if you’re here that means you’ve made it to the end of this behemoth of a post, and hopefully something here was helpful! at this point you should be able to find a premise, but it’s important to note that a premise is not a plot. here is where the real work begins—interweaving your characters and worldbuilding with your storyline, figuring out if there are any holes in your cast or if there are a few darlings you need to cryogenically freeze for now. you don’t need to fill in all of your plotholes; that’s a problem for when you actually have a draft down and more material to work with. for now, focus on creating a storyline that’s interesting to you. most importantly, don’t try to force it. you don’t want to treat a plot as a trope checklist, but instead let it come naturally so it actually fits the story your characters are made to tell.

[masterofmunson]

look after you (2)

TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary:  Sam asks you to join him and Bucky on a mission in Madripoor. When you get injured, Bucky feels the need to remind you more than once that he’s supposed to look after you now that Steve’s gone.

Warnings: tfatws spoilers, language, violence, blood, vomiting, explosions, needles, pining galore

Word Count: 4.7k+

Author’s Note: Here she is! I was originally going to post this tomorrow, but to celebrate the season finale of tfatws as well as me getting fully vaccinated, I decided to post it a day earlier! As always, comments, reblogs, and asks are highly encouraged and greatly appreciated. Enjoy and tell me what you think!

You take a day to rest and recoup before diving head first into the mission again. You slept decently and you hadn’t really thought about how exhausted you really were until you went to bed after your heart to heart with Bucky. It was a conversation that the two of you needed to have, and you wished it didn’t have to happen after you had gotten shot. You’re just glad that you’re on the same page now.

Getting out of bed, you’re careful to move around with your shoulder in mind as you wash your face and brush your teeth. You make your way to the kitchen and everyone, including Zemo, sits around the granite countertop.

“Good morning, Y/n. How’s your shoulder?” Zemo asked with a smug smirk and a cup of tea in his hands.

You glare at him and take three long strides to get to him. You slap him across the face and the smack echoes against the walls. “If you touch Bucky and I like you did last night again, I’ll kill you. Understand?” you snapped, spitting at him.

He grins and caresses the side where you hit him, messaging his fingers into the tender and red skin. “Completely.”

You walk away from him to the far side of the counter where Bucky and Sam are just staring at you with wide eyes. They hide their growing smiles behind their coffee mugs. You reach for the coffee pot and Sharon grabs a mug from the cabinet for you. You fill it with coffee and pour some creamer inside.

Bucky leans over your shoulder and mumbles in your ear, “Are you feeling okay?”

You smile softly at him and take a sip of your coffee. You nod slowly and lean against the kitchen counter. You don’t need to exchange words for Bucky to know that you’re doing okay. He knows with the small curve of your mouth.

“What’s the move now that all of Madripoor is trying to kill us? How are we going to find this Nagel guy?” you asked, looking between Sam and Sharon.

Sharon sighs, running a hand through her hair. “You should really steer clear of all of this for your own safety,” she sighed. “Especially you, now that you’re injured,” nodding over to your shoulder.

“We know it’s a risk, but we’re not going to leave until we find Nagel,” Sam interjected.

Sam and Sharon negotiate with each other as you walk towards the window. Now that the sun is up, you can see the entire skyline of High Town. It’s beautiful, all things considered since the entirety of Low Town is trying to kill you.

“You help us out, I’ll get your name cleared. Deal?”

Sharon sighs and shakes Sam’s hand. “I have a showing tonight, I’ll see what I can find. Just lay low and blend in. Stay out of trouble.”

She leaves the kitchen and disappears down the hall. You move back into the kitchen and poke around the pantry to see what kind of breakfast food she had for you to eat. To your own surprise and excitement, you see a box of Cheerios on the top shelf. You grab it and open a number of cabinets and drawers for a bowl and spoon.

“Want some, Buck? Sam?” you asked.

The two men shake their heads and Sam pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I need to make a call, I’ll be right back.”

You hum and grab the milk from the fridge. You sit at the kitchen table away from Zemo. Bucky sits in the empty chair next to you and you playfully shove a hand in his face as he watches you eat.

“Stop brooding, Buck. It’s not a good look for you, gives you wrinkles,” you teased with a grin.

“I think I’m okay with a few wrinkles, honey. I look pretty damn good for a 106 year old, don’t you think?” Bucky teased in return.

You hum with approval and a mouthful of cereal. “Mhmm. You look great, Buck.”

You finish your breakfast and put everything away. Bucky reaches for your arm and squeezes your hand. “Can I look at your shoulder? I want to make sure everything’s okay.”

You nod and Bucky grabs the abandoned first aid kit before following you into the nearest bathroom. You climb on to the bathroom counter and Bucky ruffles through the kit for the right supplies. He gathers more thread, bandages, and anticeptant and places them beside you.

“Do you need me to help you take off your sweatshirt?”

Your laughter fills the bathroom walls and you raise your brows at the ex assassin. A flirtatious smile finds its way onto your face. “Are you asking me for a strip tease, Barnes?”

His face flushes an embarrassing shade of pink and it makes you giggle even more. It makes your heart melt at his awkwardness. He stutters over his words. “N-No! I can step out if you don’t need help. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

He turns to leave and you gently grasp his arm, stopping him from leaving you. Your gentle smile and touch makes him relax. “I’m just giving you a hard time, Buck. You don’t have to leave. You might have to ask me out on a date after this, though. I don’t do this for just anyone.”

He just stares at you with a blank expression.

You laugh again, biting the inside of your cheek. It makes you feel awkward and embarrassed that he didn’t understand your teasing. “I’m joking.”

“Oh.”

You slowly pull your hoodie over your head and wince at the burning sensation. You move your bra strap to the side and Bucky carefully inspects the bandages. Blood seeps through them and he’s careful to pull the soiled bandages off your skin and into the trash. He leans forwards to get a better look at the stitching to make sure they’re still intact.

Bucky takes a clean antibacterial wipe and swipes it around the wound, picking up the dry blood and cleaning the area. You wince at the sudden stinging sensation around the sensitive area of your wound. Bucky apologizes under his breath. It sends a chill down your spine.

His fingers are soft and gentle against your skin. His touch is feather light. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s trying his best, all things considered.

He bandages both sides of the wound with incredible care. He’s silent as he works. His eyes are focused and his hands move with incredible ease.

When he’s finished bandaging you up, he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder and it makes you freeze. Your throat tightens and your heart begins to race. Bucky pulls away and your eyes meet. He scratches at the back of your neck.

“Sorry. I used to do that when my sisters got hurt when they were younger. It made them feel better,” he explained with rosy cheeks. He turns to flee the bathroom and you pull him back again.

“You don’t need to apologize. It’s sweet. Thank you,” you said, fixing your hoodie.

He smiles awkwardly at you before finally leaving the bathroom. You follow behind him and ignore the weird feeling inside your chest.

….

You didn’t know what to expect when you went downstairs to the gallery. When you arrived last night, you didn’t have the time to look at the artwork in the building. You were in too much pain to notice what kind of art Sharon dealt with. What you didn’t expect was the number of people that showed up and how it seemed like a dance club rather than an art gallery.

You’re dressed in a nice pair of black pants and matching blouse. Music thunders in your ears and the bass of the music vibrates through your chest. You push through the crowd to get to the bar. You order three tequila shots and pass two of them to Bucky and Sam. You clink the glasses together before downing the liquor. It burns your throat and sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod along to the music and make your way towards the gallery portion of the building. You walk past a number of Monet paintings, and you’re stunned that Sharon was able to get her hands on such priceless pieces. You’ve never been one to analyze paintings and artwork.

You walk around the entire gallery before returning to the bar. Sam and Bucky scowl as they watch Zemo try and dance to the music. You hide your growing smile behind your beer and reach for Sam’s hand, dragging him to the dance floor. He groans loudly but doesn’t pull away.

“C’mon Grumpy Gills, Sharon said to have fun. You don’t look like you’re having fun,” you noted with a teasing smile and a glint in your eyes as you take a sip of your drink. You move your hips along to the beat of the music and Sam rolls his eyes, taking a drink from his beer.

“Shouldn’t you be asking the same thing to Barnes? Why drag me out here instead of him?” Sam asked over the loud music. He slowly starts to nod his head to the music.

You laughed loudly and grinned at him. “I have to split my time evenly between my two children!” you joked. “I can’t make it look like I have a favorite.”

Sam laughs and shakes his head at you. A growing smirk fills his features and he spins you around on the dance floor. “You’re not fooling anyone, sweetheart, least of all me. The two of you are like two lost puppies when you’re around each other. Put the old man out of his misery and tell him how you feel!”

Embarrassment washes over you and you try to hide your face with your arm. Was it really that obvious that you had feelings for Bucky? God, did Zemo notice too? For your sake and sanity, you hope not, and you know you’re not lucky enough to get away with it. He’s a perceptive asshole. The last thing you need is Zemo of all people to mention your behavior that seems more than friendly to Bucky.

It’s the last thing Bucky needs. He’s still healing and dumping your heart out to him is not a good idea. He’s figuring out how to deal with all his trauma and to adjust to life as a Bucky Barnes he’s proud to be. You don’t need to add to it. It’s not the right time and things are too complicated.

You shake your head. You can’t. You won’t. “It’s complicated, Sam. I can’t just dump it on him. He has too much to deal with and I don’t want to add to it.”

Sam shakes his head at you. You’re not surprised that he disagrees with you. He wants to knock some sense into you, but he won’t push it. “That’s not your decision to make though. You’re taking that choice away from him, and he’s had a lifetime of choices taken away from him.”

You take a step away from Sam at his insinuation. Your brows pinch together and you glare at him. “Stop psychoanalyzing me, Sam. You’re not my therapist.”

He scratches the back of his head and you look away from him. He sighs. “Listen, I just want the two of you to be happy, but I won’t push it. I won’t say anything.”

You scoff at him and roll your eyes at him. This is what you get when you try to make Sam relax and have fun. He can’t just turn it off. You push past him and make a beeline towards the elevator. You had lost interest in the party and just wanted to be left alone. Sam ruined your mood and pissed you off.

When the elevator arrives to the top floor, you raid Sharon’s liquor cabinet and open the door to the balcony. You take a seat on the floor and your legs hang from the railing as you drink in silence. You stare out into the skyline and listen to the sounds of the city mix together. It makes you miss New York City.

Car horns blare in the distance as do the sound of the rap of bullets on the other side of town. The light in the city distorts the night sky and the neon lights mix together in perfect harmony.

You’d never admit it out loud or tell Sam, but you know that he’s right. You should give Bucky the choice, but it was so much easier to just ignore your feelings for Bucky rather than just telling him outright. If you told him and he rejected you, it would make things more complicated than they already were, and it was the last thing you wanted.

You don’t think you could handle losing Bucky, especially after Steve. Just like Bucky thought you were his last connection to Steve, you felt the same way towards him, but you’d never tell him. You don’t want him to live up to Steve’s expectations. It doesn’t matter what Steve thought and he was gone. The two of you just needed to move past it.

The balcony door slides open behind you and you don’t bother turning to see who it is that’s joining you. You know that Bucky was the one behind you. He doesn’t say anything as he sits down next to you. You wordlessly pass the bottle of tequila over to him and he takes a drink without a second thought. He passes it back to you.

“What did Sam say to you?” Bucky asked, staring at your side profile. He runs his metal hand through his hair.  

You busy yourself by taking another swig of tequila. You tear your gaze from the skyline and look over at Bucky. You sigh, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Something I’m not ready to hear,” you answered vaguely. It’s a partial truth and you know that Bucky didn’t expect such a vague answer from you. You don’t want to talk about it, and he respects you enough to not push you to tell him when it’s obviously a sensitive subject for you. You’re not ready. “I guess it’s what I get for trying to get Sam to try and relax and have fun.”

Silence falls between the two of you and you take the time in between to drink. Bucky grabs the bottle from you and sets it beside him. You huff at him and watch him stand up. You look up at him and he holds his hand out for you.

“I’ll have fun with you. Don’t let him ruin the night for you,” he said as he helps you to your feet.

You smile and shake your head at him. You know he’s trying his best and it makes you adore him even more. “There’s no music, Buck.”

He shrugs and pulls you towards him. Your uninjured arm wraps around his neck and his own hands settle on your waist. You let him lead as you sway to the sounds of the city below you. He hums quietly and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“I haven’t danced since 1943,” he hummed matter of factly against the shell of your ear.

“It doesn’t seem like it,” you whispered. “You’re a good dancer.”

He gently twirls you around the balcony and a soft gasp leaves your lips as you cling to him as you’re dipped to the floor. He grins flirtatiously and pulls you back to your feet. For a split second, you see the man he was before the war, the man that Steve spoke so fondly of before he found him in Vienna all those years ago. This is the man that was notorious with the ladies and always took women dancing and stole their hearts. It makes you dizzy just thinking about it.

You hold your breath as his eyes find yours. “It’s all about finding the right partner,” he said, holding you close. “I have one hell of a dance partner, don’t you think, doll?”

Your heart beats erratically against your chest. You feel dizzy and it’s not from the tequila or the dancing. God, does he make you feel weak in the knees. You feel like you can’t breathe with him so close to you. He’s warm and intoxicating and it makes you feel like you’re about to do something stupid.

Your eyes find his cerulean blues and you feel like you’re drowning in him. They’re soft and gentle with a hint of something more hidden behind them. The haunted look in his eyes is gone as he stares at you like you’re the only woman in the world. Is this how women felt back in the 40s when they danced with him?

You stop moving, but you don’t pull apart. You don’t think you have the will power to. You like the way his hands hold your waist and how his touch lingers, making you want more. You’re a puddle in his arms. You only whisper his name as it hangs in the air.

“Yeah, honey?”

He leans forward and rests his forehead against yours. His eyes never leave yours and your fingers grip the back of his black blazer like your life depends on it. His smile is soft and gentle. He doesn’t push or ask questions. He’s the perfect gentleman, but he wants you to make the first move. That much is obvious and you know when to take the hint.

You’re going to do it. You’re going to ask Bucky to kiss you.

He must feel the same, he has to. He wouldn’t say that to just anyone. It makes your heart race at what he’s insinuating. He wants you just as much as you want him. You tug him closer and open your mouth to respond.

You’re immediately cut off and interrupted by a hard knock against the glass door. It makes your heart leap inside your throat and you pull away from Bucky’s arms. Embarrassment washes over you when you realize that it’s Zemo of all people is the one that caught the two of you dancing together on the balcony. He won’t let you live it down now.

He slowly opens the sliding door and looks between the two of you. He smirks and clasps his hands together. “Terribly sorry to interrupt what you’re doing, but Sharon found the doctor. It’s time to go,” he said.

You don’t say anything. You’re too embarrassed and you just wanted Zemo to leave you alone. You don’t have a snarky retort that you’re sure that he’s anticipating. Instead, you nod without uttering a single word and push past him to reenter the building, ignoring the flush you feel.

Zemo and Bucky follow close behind you and the journey to the ground floor is silent as you stand in the elevator. The silence between you and Bucky is suffocating, but you keep your eyes forward and ignore the stares Zemo sent between the two of you.

When the elevator doors open, you race outside and join Sharon and Sam at the front of the building. You ignore the weird look Sam sends you and climb into the front seat without a word as the others trail behind you.

You’re silent the whole way to the docks. You listen to Sharon quietly and keep your gaze out the window. She parks in front of the loading zone and you step out of the car, waiting for Sharon to walk you in the right direction.

Bucky grabs your hand and pulls you behind the rest of the group. It makes your heart race and jump inside your throat. He squeezes it gently.

“You should stay behind. I don’t want you to get hurt again,” Bucky murmured.

Your brows pinch together and you drop his hand. He has another thing coming if he thinks you’re just going to stand around and do nothing. It’s not in your nature. It never has been.

You won’t let whatever’s lingering between the two of you get in the way of doing your job. You don’t care that he wants to keep you safe and look after you. You’ll be fine.

“Is this your way of telling me that I’ll just slow you down?” you snapped, walking past him with a huff, rejoining the group.

Bucky runs after you and shakes his head. “No. You’re injured. I don’t want you to get hurt again. I just want you to be safe.”

“I’ll be fine. Let it go.”

You walk away from him and enter the metal container after Sam. Sharon’s voice echoes through your ear and your hands trail against the back of the container and gently push against it. It opens under the pressure on your hand and you turn your head to look at Sam.

You pull your gun out of its holster and hold it out in front of you. You let Sam lead the way and you follow close behind. You're soft on your feet as you walk further into the building. You can hear music ahead and it grows louder as you walk through the lab and see the back of Dr. Nagel.

Sam pulls the needle of the record player off, stopping the music and the doctor spins on his heels. You aim your gun at him as he looks between the two of you. His eyes widen as he looks behind you. You know that without looking that Bucky stands just behind you like a lingering shadow. You don’t know if he’s doing it to intimidate the doctor or to protect you.

Bucky moves from behind you and stalks over to Nagel. He presses his gun against the doctor’s temple, shooting a warning shot just beside him in an effort to get him to talk. Dread washes over you when you realize that the man standing in front of you is responsible for the serum that Karli and some of her followers had taken and that there were 20 or so of them running around the world causing chaos.

“Is there more serum in this lab?” Bucky asked, pressing the gun further against his temple.

“No,” Nagel answered. “Karli took them all. She wanted me to give the serum to some woman named Donya Madani and I refused.”

You roll your eyes and glance around the lab. Sharon shouts in your ear, telling the four of you that it was time to go now that bounty hunters were here looking to kill you. You look at a number of vials that were a variety of different colors and keep a close eye on Zemo as he wanders around the lab.

You should’ve seen it coming. You should’ve kept a closer eye on Zemo as he walked around when he shot the doctor in the chest, killing him instantly. Sam knocks the gun out of his hand and pins him against the wall. You aim your gun at Zemo’s head when Sam lets him go.

“Give me one good reason not to kill him right now, Sam,” you snapped. “He killed our one and only lead!”

Bucky rests a hand on your shoulder and you brush him off, glaring at him. “We need him, Y/n.”

“The hell we do! He killed our lead!”

“We need to leave, now!” Sharon shouted, running into the lab, completely ignoring the dead doctor on the floor.

Suddenly, you’re flown from your feet as the lab bursts into flames. Your body slams against the container and it knocks the wind out of you. Your shoulder burns with pain and there’s ringing in your ears. Pain erupts against your spine and you’re in a daze. You can barely breathe. You groan and gasp loudly. You roll on your side and can barely pull yourself up. You can’t see straight and you feel like you’re about to puke.

The sounds of Bucky and Sam yelling your name feels so far away. You can barely make out Bucky’s blurry figure above you as he hauls you to your feet. You sway on your feet and Bucky’s hands grasp at your face, gently shaking you out of your daze.

You stumble out of the container and the sound of bullets fill your ears. You still can’t see straight and can barely hear Sam and Bucky yell at one another over the bullets and ringing in your ears. You duck under some shrapnel and squeeze your eyes shut.

Bucky drags you from the shrapnel you’re hiding under and you run down a number of corridors until you hide into an empty container. Your breathing is short and shallow and your head spins. Bucky holds your face in his hands and you see his mouth move, but you can’t hear anything he’s saying to you.

You pull your body away from his and stumble to the back of the shipping container. You keel over and everything you’ve eaten and drank over the last day and a half leaves your system. Your body burns with pain and you drag yourself back towards Sam and Bucky.

You stumble into Sam’s chest and he holds you up by the waist. He helps you out of the container as Zemo approaches in a sleek convertible. You blink rapidly to focus your gaze and weakly attempt to step away from the car and out of Sam’s hold.

“No. I’m not spending another second with Zemo,” you said.

“We need him,” Bucky attempted to reason with you.

You glare at him and Sam wordlessly climbs into the back with you beside him. You’re silent the whole way to the plane as you try and gain your bearings again. You know without looking that the stitches in your shoulder were torn open due to the explosion. You feel the blood soak through your shirt as the pain slowly increases.

Sam helps you up the steps to the plane and guides you to the back of the aircraft. You sit down and Bucky hurries over to your side with a first aid kit in his hands. You huff childishly and attempt to push him away.

“I’m pissed at you,” you stated matter of factly under your breath. You look out the window to keep from looking at him.

“I know,” Bucky replied, gently tearing your shirt from your body, leaving you in just your bra as he moves to inspect your wound.

Sam hands you a bottle of water and you drink it slowly. “I’m pissed at you, too.”

Sam laughs, nodding at you. “I know.”

“I should be relaxing in the mountains of Montana, but noooo, you insisted that you needed my help. Here I am with a bullet wound because you assholes can’t do anything without me. I expect full compensation when this shit is over.”

Bucky and Sam both laugh quietly at you. Bucky’s fingers are soft and nimble as he cleans the area around your wound. Sam leaves the two of you alone and sits at the front of the plane to keep an eye on Zemo.

You wince as the needle pierces your skin. Bucky apologizes under his breath as he stitches your wound closed again. You watch him carefully as he fixes you up. His eyes are razor focused and his brows are pinched together as he takes care of you.

“We really need to stop ending up like this,” you hummed teasingly at him. “You’ve seen me in just a bra far too much in the last couple of days and I haven’t even seen you without a shirt.”

Bucky grunts in response. “Maybe if you stopped hurting yourself, I wouldn’t have to see you without a shirt on,” he said. “Someone has to look after you and take care of you. You and I both know you much rather it be me instead of Bird Brain.”  

You laugh softly and grin at him. “Hmm…. maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I am, honey.”

You shove him gently and the smile he gives you makes your heart stop. You shake your head and bite the inside of your cheek. He leans back on his thighs and reaches for your abandoned duffle bag and carefully zips it open. He grabs a clean shirt from your bag and helps you into it.

You thank him quietly and he presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. You lean into his touch and he takes the seat beside you.

You fall asleep to the feeling of Bucky’s hand in yours, his fingers brushing against the back of your palm.

[enthusiasticharry]

Second Best

summary: you and Harry meet at a party, but he seems to take more interest in your sister than in you, and you won't be Second Best. 

author’s note: bonjour mes chéris!! this is the first instalment of hannah being the history/french student she is and merging all three of her worlds and creating her own little fictional one. this is based off of lousia may alcott’s little women (one of may favourite books ever) but with my own little twist on it. this is set in the 1860′s during the civil war but i haven't made it too historical at all.  i have done all of the translations myself and even though i'm semi-fluent i still make mistakes so if you spot any let me know. this is so long so i'll shut up now, thanks for all the support bye!! <3

word count: 16k of good old fashioned marriage talk (there’s a lot of it, its all they spoke about tbf??), fluff, angst and a lil’ smut. there is marriage and children at the end (woo, exciting!) not proofread because my eyes are already asleep. 

masterlist   |    speak to me about second best here!

“Stand up straight, don’t slouch. You have a tendency to do so, and these people will not tolerate it.” You sister, Lizzie, says as she pushes her arm between yours, walking you towards the fancy house in front of the two of you, “Whatever you do, don’t speak about your art at all. Nobody can stop you once you’ve started. Do speak if you’re spoken too, and if you’re asked to dance, dance.”

You shake your head, “But I don’t want to dance.”

“You will dance.” Lizzie says again, squeezing your arm slightly, “You may find yourself a husband if you act proper enough.”

“I shouldn’t have to act proper just to find a husband, Lizzie.” You scoff, shaking your head, “If they don’t love me, oil paints and all, then I don’t want them. I don’t think I’ll ever find a husband.”

“Oh shush with you.” She says, tapping your arm slightly. It didn’t hurt, but it did cause your lips to part in shock, “How lovely would it be if father returned and you were married! It would make his life.”

“I think he’d have a heart attack.” You mutter, removing your arm from around hers as you stand outside of the door you were going to walk through in mere minutes, “I’m his little girl, you are also, Lizzie. If we were both to be married I’d think we’d kill him off.”

“You shouldn’t joke about that.”

“I’m not joking. I truly believe that would happen.” You deadpan.

She scoffs and slips her arm through yours this time, using her free hand to ring the bell. A man wearing one of the fanciest suits you’ve ever seen in your life opens the door, allowing the two of you to slip through. You help Lizzie remove her shawl, whilst she does the same to you. The man hangs them up amongst the array of other jackets. You lips part in shock at the sight of the house you were in, the first thing your eyes falling upon being the large staircase, with paintings littering the walls. For once, you were speechless, unable to control your excitement and want to gawk at the art upon the wall.

“Lizzie!” You gasp, gripping her arm tightly, “Look at the—”

“Don’t you dare say paintings!”

“Lizzie!” You groan again, pulling her arm so that she’s looking your direction, “Look at them.”

“I’m looking at them.” She lifts her eyes to look at the wall you were looking at, where the pieces hung with such grace and elegance, “They don’t seem too spectacular.”

A shocked gasp escapes your lips, “Take that back, Lizzie! They are beautiful!

“If you say so.”

She removes you from your awe of the paintings and pulls you towards the ballroom. There’s people everywhere, the most amount of people you think you’ve ever seen in your life. You watch as they mingle with glasses of Champagne in their hands, the expensive material of their dresses sparkling in the light from the chandelier. Men stood wooing the women before them, flicking their suit jackets and inviting them to dance. The dresses the women were wearing were something out of dreams. You weren’t the biggest fan of dresses, in fact, you lived in trousers around the house, but you couldn’t help feeling embarrassed about your tattered dress. You’ve had the dress for a year or so, and the holes and rips and anything else you’d manage to do to the material could be seen in the light even if you’d fixed it.

“Lizzie!” The call comes from somebody who you don’t recognise, but Elizabeth certainly did and before the syllables of her name could escape your lips, she’s gone. You watch as your sisters whisked away with the crowd, leaving you stood there with no clue as to what to do.

Gripping the material of your dress, you slip yourself to stand by one of the doorways, away from the hustle and bustle of everyone in the room, but close enough for you to be able to watch. Lizzie stands in the middle, just as she always is, with a group of people around her. She was always the centre of attention, the one that everyone loved — you included. You were only a few years younger than her, but you were the only siblings each of you had, so you were close. You had your disagreements, that was certain, but you always came back stronger. You weren’t shocked when you noticed her spinning around holding some man’s hand, dancing away with a smile on her face that always made your insides happy. If she was happy, you were happy.

“Not one for dancing?” You eyes almost bulge out of your head as you hear a voice next to you, a male one at that.

“Oh, um, not really.” You laugh, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I’m not a very good dancer. I don’t really like dancing, to be completely honest.”

“Everyone loves dancing.” The man says, and you’re able to get a good look at him. A black suit, with a crisp-white shirt sits upon his torso. His hair was a fluffy brown, a chestnut that you found yourself in awe of. His green eyes ones of masterpieces, better than any art you could ever see upon any wall in any gallery, “I believe you are just lying.”

“I am not.” You shake you head, “My sister told me that if anyone asked me to dance I must say yes, but I have decided that I mustn’t. I have two left feet and anyone who is to ever dance with me will regret it, I know of it.”

“I highly doubt that.” He shakes his head, sipping from the glass he had in his hand, “Your sister shouldn’t force you do dance either.”

“Oh.” You shake your head, “Lizzie isn’t forcing me to dance, she just wants the best for me. Dancing is how people meet.”

“It’s how we met.” He says after a few seconds.

You let out a small chuckle, running your tongue over your lips slightly, “Sir, pardon me, but I don’t even know your name.”

“Harry.” He smiles, “M’names Harry.”

“Oh!” You exclaim again, “Harry Styles! You’ve just moved in next door with your father! Mother saw you the other day.”

“You must be—”

“—YN YLN.” You hold your hand out for him to shake, immediately shaking your head and pulling it back, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Styles, Lizzie forgot to remind me to not shake hands. It’s not very ladylike, I know.”

“It’s perfectly okay.” He holds his hand out, and you bite your lip and shake it, “And please don’t call me Mr. Styles. I’m not my father. Call me Harry.”

“Harry.” The name slips from your lips, “I think Lizzie would die if she saw me talking to you.”

“If I may, would you show me Lizzie?” He asks and you nod.

You nod and turn back to the crowd, fluttering your eyes across all of the people in hopes to spot your sister. She was wearing red, the colour which suited her the most in your opinion, so she wasn’t too hard to spot. She was dancing in the middle of the room with a man with blonde hair, a suit similar to the one that Harry was wearing upon his body. She looked happy, and the sight caused a smile to flutter across your lips.

“She’s in the middle there.” You say, nodding your head in the girls direction, “The one in the red dress.”

You turn to look at Harry and once his eyes fall upon your sister, you can tell that the whole world stops around him. His lips part, his eyes widen and if you look closely you can see the reflection of the red dress in his eyes. You’re unsure how long he’s staring at her, but you’re staring at him for the exact same amount of time.

“It’s a. . .” He fumbles with his words after a few seconds, lifting his hands to scratch the back of his neck, “It’s a beautiful dress.”

“It is.” You agree, “Mother let her save up her allowance to buy the material. I should’ve done the same but I spent mine on paints.”

“You paint?” His raises his eyebrow, finally looking back at you.

You nod, “I love to.”

“Then you have every right to spend your money on paints.” He says, and you try to hide the heat that falls upon your cheeks, “You dress is perfectly swell

“It’s not beautiful though.”

“It’s swell, YN.” He reminds you again, “I’m sure you’ll get a beautiful dress at some point.” 

Then you’ve lost him. You’re not surprised, though. Everyone prefers Lizzie to you, it’s just how it’s always been. You watch the back of him as he walks towards your sister, taking the world in his stride behind him as he does so. You watch as she courtesy’s for the man she has just danced with, and before Lizzie can go anywhere, she’s scooped up to dance with Harry. Maybe if you had bought the Emerald material your mother had wanted you to, Harry would be dancing with you right now instead of Lizzie. Maybe if you hadn’t been so against dancing in the first place he might’ve asked you to dance.

No, you wouldn’t stoop to that level for a man of all people. If Harry didn’t want to dance with you, ‘swell dress’ and all then you weren’t going to change yourself, no matter how much you wanted to, for a mere man.

“YN!” Lizzie delightful glee of your name came after their dance had died down. Lizzie came bouncing towards you, a just as bashful Harry following behind her, “Harry has offered to take us home in his carriage!”

“Now?” You ask, your heart hopeful that they’d both say yes.

Lizzie turns to look at Harry who shrugs his shoulders slightly, “If the two of you want to, we can.”

“Oh no.” Lizzie places her hand upon his shoulder, “We couldn’t dare take you away from the festivities. We will wait until you’re finished.”

“I’m ready to leave myself, Miss YLN.” He says to Lizzie, the same heat falling upon her cheeks as you had felt earlier.

“Please. Call me Lizzie.”

“Okay, Lizzie.” He grins, “I’ll just go fetch the carriage, see you by the front door?”

Lizzie nods, and you give him a small smile and watch as he walks towards the door. You try not to stare as he shrugs on his coat but it’s hard to, and you know that Lizzie is feeling the exact same way that you are.

“Oh YN.” She gushes, turning to you and placing her hands upon your shoulder, “He’s a perfect gentlemen.”

“Is that so?” You ask, walking towards the door also to fetch your shawl, shrugging it on your shoulders.

“It is.” She copies your actions with her own, “He asked to dance, saying that you were the one to introduce me to him. I can’t thank you enough, dear sister.” 

“It’s no issue.” You shake off, turning away from her so that she can’t see the fall in your face, “He seemed to take a fancy to you once I’d pointed you out from the crowd.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes.” You nod your head, turning to look at her. Her shawl was scraggly thrown upon her body, probably from how distracted she was, and you lean forward to sort it for her whilst she gleams over your shoulder at nothing. You wonder if this is what it was like to meet your husband, butterflies and distractions from that moment on. It hadn’t happened yet for you, and seeing the way Lizzie was acting, you decided that you didn’t really want it happen, “Couldn’t take his eyes off you, sweet one.”

She squeals and wraps her arms around you, squeezing you slightly. You were happy that she was happy, and you wouldn’t take that away from her.

The door opened, revealing a blushed faced Harry due to the cold outside, “Ready?”

“YN!” Your mother calls from the floor below you, “Can you please come and set the table?” 

You groan and remove your paintbrush from your canvas. The day prior you had been given a small sum of money from your Aunt Jemima after visiting and immediately gone to the store in town to pick up some new canvases. It was heaven to receive little amounts of money like these and you almost always spent it on canvases so you wouldn’t have to use paper, which was the cheaper alternative that you had to buy. 

“I’m a little busy!” You call back, moving so that you can shout out of your door, “Can you ask Lizzie?” 

“She isn’t here!” Your mother calls back and you groan. You place your palette down on the table beside you, as well as your brushes in the pot of water you had brought up with you. You wipe your hands on your apron before pulling it over your head and off your body. You drape it over your bed carefully, being careful to not get anything on the linen.

You bounce down the steps, tucking your hair that falls down in ringlets by the side of your face behind your ear. Entering the kitchen, you place a kiss to your mother’s cheek. She stands over the side, chopping some vegetables that she’s going to bring to boil for your dinner. She greets you with a smile and continues chopping. 

“Is Lizzie with Harry?” You ask, placing the cutlery beside each mat on the table, noticing that there were four like there had started to be now.

“Of course she is.” Your mother shakes her head, “They’re always somewhere causing trouble.” 

You had to suppress your grin. Lizzie had been the good girl of the family for so long, always doing everything that was asked of her and your were the one who tended to ignore requests so that you could continue doing whatever you wanted to. Since Lizzie had met Harry, that had been completely flipped upside down. You were the good girl of the family who did everything that was asked of you, and Lizzie was the one always getting out of doing things by sneaking off with Harry. 

Since the two had met just over two months ago, they had been inseparable. When the two of you weren’t being taught how to read and write by your mother, Lizzie was always somewhere doing something with Harry. The other week he had taken her to the theatre and words couldn’t explain how jealous you were. You and Lizzie did everything together, and you always had done, but now you felt second best to someone who she hardly knew. You knew a part of you was jealous, but you would never admit that. What you did admit to yourself was that you were lonely and missing your sister. 

“Is Harry staying for supper?” You ask, filling up the water jug to be placed upon the table. 

“I’m guessing so.” Your mother says, moving to bend down by the fire to check on the meat, “It’s ready. Will you go get them? I think they’re by the river.” 

You nod your head, moving to the front door to retrieve your shawl and boots. They were always at the river, as though it was there place. You couldn’t understand for the life of you why they’d chosen that place out of all, especially during the winter months. Snow was just around the corner and the two of them decided to spend their days moments away from catching a cold by the river. 

The walk itself was five or so minutes through the woods behind your house, watching your step for fallen branches and wild animals. Lizzie was usually the one who brought you to the lake, so it was a given that you hadn’t been in a while. 

Once the trees start to disperse, you stand in the middle of the opening to try and spot them. You do, quite quickly in fact. They’re stood by the water, picking up stones every now and then to skim across it, rippling the stillness with their movements. Skimming stones felt like a normal thing to see people doing, but once you watch Lizzie throw her arms around his neck, you feel like a little portion of you crumbles inside. You hadn’t seen them like this before, and you never ever wanted to see them like that again. 

“Lizzie!” You call, snapping them out of their trance so that they turn to look at you. Lizzie immediately removes her arms from around Harry’s neck.

“Is there something wrong?” 

“No.” You shake your head, “Mother just asked me to collect the two of you for supper.” 

The two nod and move around where they were stood to collect their things but you don’t wait for them. Instead, you turn around and walk back towards the house. You can hear them laughing but you refuse to look back, because you know that you won’t be able to handle it. The temperature drops dramatically as you walk back, and you pull your shawl closer to you to help preserve some heat. You had a suspicion that at some point this evening it would start snowing, which you weren’t too unhappy about. It would give you time to finish the painting you started today, and hopefully create some more. 

They aren’t close behind you as you reach the door, so you enter and immediately walk towards the table which is looking a lot fuller than it had been. 

“Are they coming?” Your mother asks and you nod, sitting down at the table. They enter a few minutes later, Harry greeting your mother with a kiss on the cheek. 

The three join you at the table, Harry next to you, Lizzie next to him and your mother sat next to the spare seat — where your father usually sat. You all join hands in saying grace, your hand feeling completely natural sat in his. The way his encompassed yours was something that will be etched into your brain for the rest of the day, and for the days after that. It isn’t a light hold either, it’s a prominent one, and his fingers squeeze yours tightly. You drop your eyes to your plate, unable to look up at him because you’re unsure of what his features may hold. 

You don’t say anything over the dinner, you just listen to their words. It’s all about Harry’s time in London, like it usually was, and the rest about what the two had been up too. Your mother asks the dreaded question, and yet again, you ignore any word that comes out of their mouths.

It was inevitable at this point that Harry and Lizzie, at some point, were going to marry each other. You were surprised that Harry hadn’t proposed yet, if you were honest. If soulmates were a thing, no matter how much it pained you to believe, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were the example. You wouldn’t ever say anything to anyone about this, but you do think a part of you wished that was you in her place. You wished that you were the one that he smiled at, held hands with, kissed upon the cheek as she left. 

After the dinner had finished, you had returned up to your room and lit your candle, leaning against the window frame to peer outside. They stood by the gate, Harry’s hand holding hers and her hand holding is. They looked as though they truly loved each other and what you expected to be a measly kiss on the cheek like it usually was, wasn’t that at all. A little part of you died inside when you saw him lean forward and place a kiss upon her lips, his hand lifting up to rest against her cheek. You managed to draw yourself away from the window after you’d watched for a while or so, slipping under your sheets and into your linen, turning so that you’re facing the wall. A few minutes or so later, you hear the door open and the rustling of clothes and you suspect Lizzie gets ready for bed. You try not cry but you can already feel the tears starting to fall down your face.

“YN.” You hear the soft whisper of your voice over the crackle of the candle that was still on in the room, “Are you awake?” 

“Yes.” You manage out through the hesitation within your voice. 

After a few seconds, and a slight giggles escaping her lips, “He kissed me, YN.” 

“Oh.” You try not to sound like you’re upset, “Are you going to marry him?” 

“He hasn’t asked me.” She’s quick to say, “But I think he might.” 

A month or so later, you’re stood in front of a carriage, one that sits Lizzie inside on her way to Etiquette Lessons. Every young lady in the village had to go to them when they reached a certain age to make sure that they are properly prepared for how to look after their husbands when the day comes. You weren’t quite at the age yet, but Lizzie was. 

You had given her a hug, and watched your mother kiss her cheeks and hug her, but you now found yourself watching something that you had seen so many times now. Harry and Lizzie stood by the door of the open carriage, her hands in his as they whisper and chuckle at whatever they’re talking about. You can’t hear what they say, but you can tell it’s emotional from the tears that are running down his face. 

You mother wraps her arm around your shoulder, squeezing your shoulder. You wondered if she knew. You hadn’t said anything to her, but she always seemed to know what was going on in your life even if you hadn’t told her anything. 

Harry helped Lizzie into the carriage, and closed the door for her before coming to stand next to you. Your eyes fluttered up to look at him for a second, but he didn’t even look anywhere near you, he was watching the carriage as it left. The love of his life was leaving in it, so I’m not surprised he did so. 

“Mother.” You say quickly once the carriage had turn off the path, “Can I return and paint?” 

“Of course you can.” She places a hand on one of your cheeks and a kiss to the other, “Take Harry with you. He’ll need the company.” 

You turn to look at him, and he just shrugs, so you nod. You return back to the house with Harry trailing behind you, looking like a lost puppy. The way his eyes seemed to droop, as well as his hair, all hinted to the fact that he was actually upset that she was leaving. He follows you into the room, and sits on the end of Lizzie’s bed whilst you pulled your paints out of your drawer. 

“I’ve only been in here once before.” He says after a few seconds, running his hand over the linen of her sheets, “You were out. Something about Aunt Jemima.” 

“Oh.” You start to face place some of your paints upon your palette, “I read to her, sometimes, and she pays me so I can buy paints. I’m hoping that one day she’ll take me to Europe with her.” 

“Europe?” He asks, “You want to go?” 

“More than anything.” You sigh, swirling your brush in the green paint you had just placed upon your palette, “More specifically I’m hoping she takes me France. I’ll be able properly practice my art then.” 

“Can you not do that here?” 

You hesitate for a second, hovering your brush over the canvas slightly, “I’ll be better suited if I go there. People will care more about my work.” 

“It’s beautiful work.” He says after a few seconds, “I don’t know how France would change that.” 

You think for a second about how to explain this to him, “Think of it like Etiquette school. The girls go and return as better wives than if they hadn’t gone. They would’ve been good wives, but not as good without the school.” 

“I don’t think I understand.” 

“My art is good without France, just like the wives are without Etiquette class, but they are better with it. My art will be better with France.” 

You turn around to see him nod his head, “I think I understand.” 

“A part of it is also me wanting to leave this town.” You say, turning back around so that you can place your paintbrush back upon your canvas. 

“I cannot fault you for that.” He says, and you turn to him again, only to see that he’s laid back upon the bed, a hand over his eyes, “Sometimes I wish I could leave.” 

“Why don’t you?” You ask, “If one of us had the beings necessary to leave it would be you?” 

“Beings necessary?” He pushes himself up on his elbow so that he’s looking directly at you, “And what would be those necessary beings?” 

“Money, for one.” You say, moving so that you’re sat on your bed, looking straight at him, “Carriages. Knowledge of the world. The furthest I’ve ever gone is the neighbouring town and that was to drop something off for my mother.” 

“Why don’t you leave then?” 

You chuckle, raising your eyebrows, “I plan on it.” 

“Ice Skating.” Harry says as he walks through your bedroom door, holding two pairs of ice skates in your hands. 

“Harry!” You exclaim, placing your hand upon your chest at the shocked sight of him, “I could’ve been indecent and you would have never known!”

“But you aren’t.” He tips his head to the side, “Ice Skating. We’re going ice skating. The lake has frozen over and it’s perfect.” 

“Are we now?” You ask, placing your palette down upon the table next to your easel, “Is Mr. Styles bored of his mansion.” 

“I’m going to loose my mind.” He drops down on your sisters bed, the skates clattering to the floor as he does so, “Please come ice skating with me.” 

“Harry.” You sigh, pulling your painting apron off, “I don’t even know how to ice skate.” 

“Then I will teach you.” He says. 

After a few seconds of contemplation, you nod your head, “I’ll do it if you let me paint you.” 

“Deal.” 

Over the past two weeks you and Harry had grown close. Not as close as Harry and your sister, but close enough for you to class him as one of your good friends. The two of you had started to do everything together, similarly to him and Lizzie but with some barriers. You hugged each other but you certainly weren’t as touchy deeply as they were with each other. You couldn’t do it to your sister, so you avoided doing anything that would be seen as wrong.

 You did feel sorry for Harry. He had told you that he had sent three letters to Lizzie during this time and she hadn’t even replied to one. You weren’t quite sure why, but that was quite despicable on her part. The poor man was making himself sick with how much he was worrying about her, and you were the one who had seen it, and been the one to try and get him out of it. One of the things that you had begged him to let you do was paint him, but he kept rejecting your proposal. Instead, he told you that he liked to enjoy watching you paint rather than having you paint him. 

You were excited to say the least that he had agreed to let you paint him, and you certainly weren’t going to miss that opportunity. 

“Slow down.” You call to Harry, who’s around ten strides a head of you as you waddle your way with your dress in your hands through the snow, “I can’t keep up with you.” 

“Walk faster then.” He says, turning to look at you with a grin across his face. 

You groan and try to pick up the pace, nearly slipping a few times on some particularly icy parts of the ground but you make it to the lake in once piece. Harry passes you the skates he had picked up for you and you thank him for passing them to you. You kick your shoes off and fasten the skates, just as he does the same. 

“Stay away from the middle.” He says, “It’s thinner than the edge.” 

“I think you’re forgetting something.” You say as you try to stable yourself on the blades, “I have not idea what I’m doing.” 

“It’s like walking, but on ice.” He deadpans and you resist the urge to roll your eyes, “I’ll let you hold my hand if you want.” 

He holds his hand out and without really thinking you place your hand in his, allowing him to guide you onto the ice. His hand was cold, but so was yours, but having his in yours sent little flames across the entirety of your body. 

At first you were unsteady on your feet, and you’re sure that you could’ve nearly broke Harry’s hand with how tightly you were squeezing it. He chuckled and made sure that you were continuously upright. After five minutes or so, you found the swing of what you were doing, and managed to move forward without any wobbles.

“I’m letting go of you.” 

“No!” You exclaim, gripping his hand tighter so that he wouldn’t be able to pull away from you, “I’ll fall.” 

“You won’t fall.” He chuckles, trying to pull his hand away again. “I will.” You shake your head, “Please, don’t.” 

“You’re not going to fall.” 

“I am.” 

“You’re not.” 

He somehow manages to release his hand from yours and skate backwards away from you, leaving you on your own. You hold your hands out, straightening them as though that’s going to help balance you out. With the little momentum you had left, you moved forward slightly until you came to a halt, where you pick up one of your feet to push forward and move forward. You manage to do it, without falling which surprises you. 

“Harry!” You exclaimed, beaming at him, “I’m doing it.” 

“I told you that you would.” He smiles, tilting his head to the side, “Shall we?” 

“We shall.” You smile, and the two of you continue off across the ice. 

Everything seems to be going well and good until you manage to catch your blade in a slit in the ice and go tumbling forward, going over on your ankle as you do so. You drop to the ground with a thud, a throbbing immediately falling upon your ankle. 

“Harry. . .” His name escapes your lips through the the hiss of pain you let out. 

“Are you injured?” He’s quick to ask, skating over to you as quickly as he possible could. 

“My ankle.” You say, “I think I’ve sprained it.” 

“You probably have.” He’s quick to say, “Lift up slightly, I’ll carry you back home.” 

You shake your head, “You don’t have to do that.”  

“What are you going to?” He laughs, “Crawl?” 

“I might.” 

“You wouldn’t make it home for Christmas.” He bends down, “Come here.” 

You lift your hand up and wrap your hands around his neck, allowing him to place his hands underneath your knees. He looks at you with a small smile on his face and skates back to the edge of the lake, placing you on the floor for a second so that you could both remove your skates. 

“How did you get so good at skating?” You ask, returning to your prior position his arms. 

“Home.” He says, “In England. It’s cold year round there, and the lakes are often frozen. My mother taught me.” 

“You don’t talk about you mother.” 

“She died when I was young.” He says, not looking at you the way that he had been, “I don’t remember a lot about her.” 

“I’m sorry.” You say, “I didn’t mean to pry.” 

“You didn’t.” He shakes his head, “You were merely curious.” 

You drop your eyes to the white around the two of you, “My mother says that my curiosity may get me in trouble one of these days.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” He chuckles, “But that’s something that makes you, you.” 

Without really thinking, you say the next few words, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t me.” 

He shakes his head, “You don’t mean that.” 

“I do.” You nod your head, “There’s nothing special about me. I’m no Lizzie YLN.” 

“No.” He shakes his head, “You aren’t Lizzie, but you are YN. This world doesn’t need anymore Lizzie’s in it.” 

“I thought maybe you’d have a thousands Lizzie’s if you could.” 

“I wouldn’t need a thousand if I could have the one.” 

“You do have you.” 

He shakes his head, “I told her before she went that there was no need for Etiquette classes because to be my wife all I wanted was her. Lizzie wanted to go to get the best experience she possibly could.” 

“You respected that?” 

He looks directly over you again, “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“We all know what actually happens at Etiquette classes, Harry.” 

Harry only nods his head once, not saying anything else. He still carries you home, one of his arms rested comfortable under his knee whilst the other rests behind your back. You hoped you hadn’t offended him, but there was no way for you to know. 

Etiquette classes, as a whole, were to teach young women the proper ways of being a wife during the day, and through the night thy would attend balls and such. The balls were so the women could hopefully meet eligible, rich men who they were hopefully going to marry. If you were already meant to marry someone else, it didn’t seem like a right thing to go to this place where the people were always after one thing. 

As your feelings grew for Harry, you wondered whether Lizzie’s had diminished and that was why she decided to go to the classes. You certainly shouldn’t want that, but you couldn’t lie and say that a part of you did.

“Mrs. YLN?” You mother comes running towards the two of you at Harry’s call of her name, “We’ve had a little accident.” 

“What have you done now?” 

“I went over on my ankle.” You deadpan. 

“Harry will you get me some ice?” He nodded and moved towards the kitchen whilst you mother freed your ankle and rested it upon her knee. 

He came back with ice wrapped in a cloth and passed it to your mother who placed it upon your ankle. 

“Thank you for bringing her home, Harry.” 

“It’s no problem.” 

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” 

“I shouldn’t.” He shakes his head, “Thank you for the offer, though. But I should be returning home.” 

“Pass my love onto your father.” 

“I will.” 

He throws you once last look, one that you can’t quite pinpoint the emotion of. After a few seconds he drops his eyes, and walks out of the door without looking back. You turn to look at your mother, who’s got a skeptical look upon her face as she looks at you. 

“What is it?” 

“Does he know?” 

“Does he know what?” 

A small smile crosses her lips, “That you love him.” 

You lips part in shock before you clamp them shut, “I. . . I feel no such thing.” 

“You had just lied to me, child.” She shakes her head, “I know love when I see it.” 

“Mother.” You shake your head, “He loves Lizzie.” 

“I know.” She places her hand upon your cheek, “You’ll be the one to pick up the pieces when she breaks his heart.” 

Lizzie was due to return home today, on Christmas Eve of all days, and the house certainly looked as though it was ready for her.

You, your mother and Harry had spent quite a while this year decorating the house to be as Christmassy as possible. The thing that you still think about to this day was jumping on Harry’s back so he could lift you up to reach the star, your mother smiling as she watched the two of you. 

The carriage returned at around midday. You were stood next to Harry at the end of the garden, with you mother next to him. The carriage came to a halt and the driver was the one to open the door, Lizzie immediately tumbling out and throwing her arms around your mother who had taken a few steps forward. 

She didn’t look like Lizzie, in your opinion. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun, the dress upon her body looking more expensive than the ones that she had gone with. The material was a blushed pink colour, with fancy detailing upon the corset and a puffy skirt that was one of the biggest that you had ever seen in your life. Lizzie looks happy to see your mother to say the least, but you’re quite surprised when she moves to you next instead of Harry. 

“Hello!” She throws her arms around your shoulder, placing her head on your shoulder whilst you placed yours on hers, the material of her fancy coat hitting your cheek. You hadn’t seen anything quite like it before, never mind felt anything quite like it before, “I’ve missed you so much. How are you?” 

“Well, thank you.” You pull away. clearing your throat and wiping your hands upon your skirt slightly, “The same old. It’s you who I should be asking that question to.” 

She smiles and pulls away, holding her small bag close to herself as she looks at the person stood next to you. Harry looks as though he’s about to cry, and so does Lizzie if you’re being brutally honest. The two of them needed to be alone, and you understood that. When your mother motioned you to follow her back into the house, you didn’t hesitate with your movements, following her back into the house. 

“I feel as though dinner might be late tonight.” You mother says as she closes the door behind you, fumbling to take off her scarf, “I feel like they might be out there for a while. Why don’t you go up and finish your painting?” 

You nod your head, not wanting to say anything. You remove your outdoor gear and race up the stairs. You know you shouldn’t, but you immediately run to the window to see whether you can see the two of them, but you’re unable to. 

Lizzie looked like a different person, but she sounded like Lizzie when she opened her mouth. The clothes that she wore might have changed but she was still your sister, the same sister who had the man you loved following her around like a lost puppy. Lizzie was the same Lizzie as she always had been, and that meant that she probably did feel the same way about Harry as she did before she left. There was a selfish streak in you that wished that wasn’t the case, and she had completely forgot about her feelings for Harry and had met someone else, but until you properly had a conversation with the girl, you couldn’t be too sure that was the case. You couldn’t be sure either that if that had happened, Harry would want you in that way. 

You found yourself unable to paint, so you dropped down upon your bed and sat with your back against the wall, watching the outside world as your thoughts danced around within your head. You found the thoughts spiralling through your head that you were still a young woman at the end of the day, one who could have a line of men wanting to marry you but you instead found yourself second best to your sister, and that shouldn’t be happening. No matter how much you loved the man, or had grown to be accustomed to his company, being second best wasn’t something that you had set your heart on being, and you wouldn’t be for him.

You were the first YLN he had met, yet he had chosen your sister first and he was going to lay in that bed now. 

“YN!” You mother called from downstairs, “They’re here.” 

Christmas Eve dinner, to say the least, was one that you’d never forget. Harry looked as though he was either going to burst out crying or kill someone at any moment, Lizzie looked exhausted and your mother and yourself were sat in the middle of the two of you trying to make ends meet of what had happened. Harry’s eyes caught yours once, but he was quick to flutter them away and take another forkful of vegetables and place it in his mouth. 

“Lizzie, you haven’t told YN and I anything about your time away.” Your mother started, probably not the best topic of conversation but one that would split up the silence hopefully, “Did you enjoy yourself?” 

“I did.” She wipes her mouth upon her napkin, “I had an amazing time. Met some amazing people. Actually, there is one person that I’ve invited for you to meet for the new year.” 

“You have?” Your mother raises her eyebrow, “How wonderful.” 

“His name is Theodore.” 

That’s all it takes for Harry’s fork to clatter to the plate, his chair screech across the floor and his body to stand up. 

“I’m, uh, truly sorry Mrs. YLN.” He says, “The meal was lovely but I’m not feeling very well so I think it’s best that I go home.” 

“Are you alright?” 

“I will be.” He nods his head, clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck, “So sorry again, have an amazing Christmas.” 

“You too, Harry.” 

Once the doors closed, Lizzie’s the next person to drop her cutlery and sulk off upstairs. The slamming of the bedroom door shakes the whole house. You place another bit of potato into your mouth and slowly chew whilst looking at your mother. 

She sighs, “Will you go check on your sister for me?” 

“But—”

“You’ll get to see him later, don’t worry.” She says, “I’m going to plate him and his father some food. God knows they won’t eat without it, and you can take it over for me.” 

You nod your head, taking a sip from your glass of water before standing up and making your way upstairs. You cam hear Lizzie’s cries before you open the door, and you know that its because of what had obviously happened before the two of them had come to lunch. You push the door open, to see her laid on her bed face down, her head deep within her pillow. You push the door closed behind you and back up until your back is directly placed upon the solid wood. 

“Are you engaged to him?” You say, looking down at your shoes so that you don’t have to make eye contact with her. 

You can hear the bed creek beneath her as she moves, but you still don’t look up, “To who?” 

“To Theodore.” 

“No.” You lift your eyes up just as she shakes her head, “I’m not.” 

“But you want to be.” 

“What makes you think that?” 

You scoff and shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest, “You forget that I’m your sister, Lizzie. I know you better than you know yourself.” 

After a few seconds, she speaks again, “He’s going to propose.” 

“He is?” You take a few steps forward until you’re sat upon your bed, directly across from her, “Why, Lizzie?” 

“We’re in love.” She quickly says, her eyes bulging out the way that they do when she starts to get upset, “When you’re in love, you get married YN.” 

“I thought you were in love with Harry.” 

“I love Harry.” She says, shaking her head, “But I’m not in love with him. I love him as a best friend.” 

“He loves you.” 

“I know.” She shakes her head, “I just didn’t love him the way I love Theodore. He’s just so kind, and so gentle and he makes me feel things that I just haven’t felt before.” 

The way that she stands up immediately makes your mind immediately fall to a place that you know isn’t where it should be. Your eyes widen and she looks at you the exact way that you know that what you thought is right. 

“Lizzie.” You voice comes out as a whisper, and you shake your head, “You didn’t.” 

“I love him, YN.” She shakes her head, “And he loves me.” 

“We always said we’d save that until marriage.” You shake your head, “You told me that’s what you have to do.” 

She sits down on the bed next to you, reaching so that her hands are placed upon both of your shoulders, “And you do. Promise me you will, YN.” 

“I will.” You quickly say, “I promise, I will.” 

“Good.” She sighs, dropping her hands from your shoulders, “You will not end up like me, I won’t let you.” 

“How have you ended up?” 

She looks at you with tears in her eyes, “I think I’m pregnant, YN.” 

You were holding a basket of food that your mother had collated for Harry and his father. You had knocked upon the door once and now you were stood, waiting for someone to open the door and let you in from the cold. The temperature had certainly dropped since you had been outside earlier, but you weren’t surprised at that fact. 

“Miss. YLN.” Harry’s father opens the door. You’ve only ever met him once, and from what Harry has told you, he’s quite a cold man, “May I ask why you’re here?” 

“Uh, my mother sent you and Harry some food over.” You say, holding up the basket within your hands, “I just came to deliver it.” 

“Please.” He says, “Come in.” 

You step through the threshold of the house, entering one that was three times the size of your own but just as empty as yours. 

“I’ll take that to the kitchen for you.” He says, holding his hands out so you can place the basket within them, “H is upstairs, in the library. Third door on the left.”  

“Thank you.” 

The stairs themselves were probably bigger than your entire house, and as you ran your hand across the wood of the banister you couldn’t believe how expensive it felt beneath your fingers. You followed Mr. Styles’ instruction and walked along the grand hallway until you found the third door on the left. It was slightly ajar, so you placed your hand upon the wood and push it open, the door creaking as you did so. 

Your mouth drops open at the sight of the room in front of you. When Mr. Styles said Library you thought it may have been a small room with bookshelves in it, but it wasn’t, it was a full library at the most. It was full of the most books you’ve ever seen anywhere, floor to ceiling bookshelves. You couldn’t help your want to run your fingers across every single cover. 

You spot Harry sat at the window, his knees bent and a book placed open upon them. You cross your hands in front of you, taking a few steps towards Harry. The sound of your shoes against the wooden floor notifies Harry that you’re there, and he lifts his eyes to look at you. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, closing the book that he had open. 

You take a few more steps towards him, sitting at the opposite side of windowsill to him, “I should be asking you that question.” 

He chuckles, lifting his leg up again so that it’s on the windowsill, “I’m okay.” 

“I don’t believe that.” You shake your head, coping him so your feet are up also and you’re facing him, “Tell me truthfully. How are you?” 

He shakes his head, dropping his eyes down to his knees, “She doesn’t want to marry me.” 

“You asked?” 

“Today.” He nods, looking back at you again, “I had a ring.” 

After a few seconds you whisper, “Can I see it?” 

“See what?” 

“The ring.” 

He opens his jacket and fumbles around in the inside pocket, bringing out a small blue velvet box which he throws towards you. You catch it, nearly dropping it but you manage to keep it in your hands. You raise your eyebrow at him and he offers a small smile, one that you knew wasn’t the most truthful of how he’s feeling.

You open the box and see a beautiful ring in the box. The ring itself was silver, but the thing that drew your and probably Harry to it was the gem. It looked to be diamond, not a large one at that but one that was a lovely sized. The light from the window caused the diamond to glimmer slightly, a gasp escaping from your lips.

“Harry.” You shake your head, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “It’s beautiful.” 

“I thought so too.” He says, running his thumb across his bottom lip before shrugging his shoulders, “Lizzie didn’t think so.” 

“It’s not because of you, Harry.” You quickly say, “Nothing to do with you.” 

“It must’ve been, YN.” He says, “You’re sister doesn’t want to marry me. Me! Not anyone else.” 

“She can’t marry you, Harry.” You say, the tears starting to collect in your eyes, “I don’t know whether if situations were different she would marry you, but in this situation it isn’t your fault. I can promise you that.” 

You watch a tear fall down is cheek, “Has she met someone else?” 

You look away, pursing your lips and closing your eyes to try and stop the tears from falling down your cheeks, “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“Is it Theodore? Is she engaged to him?” 

“She will be.” You say, standing up and moving so that you’re in front of him, placing your hand upon his knee, “I’m so sorry, Harry.” 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“She’s my sister.” 

“You’re not in charge of her.” 

You reach forward and place your hand upon his cheek, using your thumb to delicately wipe the next year that falls out of his eye. His tilts his head slightly so that it’s nicely rested within your hand, and you smile at him, which his returns. 

“Did she ever love me?” 

“She did.” You say, nodding your head, “She loves you. She’s just not in love with you.” 

“That doesn’t make it any easier.”

You shake your head, “I don’t think anything will at this point. You just need to wait, time will heal. I’ll be here for you.” 

“I think.” He says, dropping his knees so that he can move closer to you, “I think you might be able to.” 

“Whatever you need, H.” You say.

He moves closer, you can feel him closer to you, but you certainly hadn’t expected for him to place his lips upon yours. The kiss at first in gentle, his lips pressed against yours so gently that at the start you couldn’t quite feel him upon you. Then it’s more urgent, with his hand placed upon your cheek, his lips moving against yours at a quick pace. 

“H.” You whisper, pulling away slightly as he removes his lips from yours, using them to dance down your cheek, to your jaw and then resting against the skin of your neck. 

He removed his hand from your cheek and hooking it underneath your thigh so he can manoeuvre you to be on his lap.

This is the first time you’ve ever kissed a boy, and you can’t believe that the boy of all people is Harry Styles. You hadn’t been this close to anyone before, straddled across his lap with your knees each side of his waist, your skirt bunched up at your waist. The second you were comfortable, his lips attached to your again, his hands rested upon the small of your back. A feeling brewed within you, causing your hips to involuntary buck towards his. You felt him smile against your lips, and that was when you snapped out of the daze that you were in.

Without really thinking, you pulled away and clambered off of his lap. He looked flushed as you pulled away, his hair a little messy and his lips red from the kissing. 

“No.” You hold your hand out at him, shaking your head, “You can’t do that.” 

“Why not?” He said, standing up and taking a few steps towards you. 

“Because. . . because you just can’t.” You shake your head, lifting your hands to run through your hair. 

“I thought.” He looks at you quizzically, “I thought that’s what you wanted.” 

“Maybe I did, a little bit.” You say, shaking your head, “But you didn’t want it to be me. You wanted it to be Lizzie.” 

“No.” He shakes his head, holding his hand out as if to touch yours, “I didn’t want that.” 

“You did, I know you Harry, and you did.” You sniffle slightly, shaking your head, “I’m not Lizzie and I’ll never be Lizzie, and I’ve accepted that. You’ll never love me like you love Lizzie, and I know that. But, Harry, I won’t be second best. I don’t deserve to be second best.” 

“You aren’t second best, YN!” 

You can’t help but let out a small sob at his words, “I am, Harry. From the first day that we met each other, Lizzie came first. She was the one who you couldn’t bore your eyes away from, not me. I don’t think I had a full conversation with you until Lizzie left for her classes.” 

“That’s not true, YN.” He shakes his head, “I swear to you, it isn’t.” 

“I’m sorry, Harry.” You take a few steps back, “I won’t be second best.” 

With that you turn away, leaving the house and leaving Harry. You couldn’t help the tears that fell as you walked across to your house. 

You had made the decision that day that you weren’t to stay in America, that you were going to leave and you knew that Aunt Jemima was the person you knew would be able to help you with that.

Your Aunt Jemima was getting older, but before she died she wanted to go to Europe on last time, more specifically France. She had asked you years ago to be her companion on the trip, and you had agreed, but that was the last time you’d ever spoken to her about it. On Christmas day, you had been the one to bring the idea back up in conversation, dropping in little hints until Aunt Jemima picked up what you were saying. She had been the one to say that in the new year you were going and that you had to be ready to leave on January second with no complaints, not that you had any anywhere. 

When Aunt Jemima’s carriage came, you said your farewell’s to your mother and you sister, and Theodore who had proposed to your sister the day prior — and left. As you sat in the carriage, you couldn’t help but look at Harry’s house, and you weren’t shocked to see him at the window watching your every move. You didn’t look away from the window until you could no longer see the house, when you turned to look straight in front of your, your gloved hands resting upon your knee. 

“Forget him.” Aunt Jemima says, sighing slightly and shaking her head, “He isn’t right for you.” 

“I have no idea what you are on about.” You shake your head, looking out of the small carriage window so that you don’t have to look at your Aunt. 

“That Styles boy.” She says, and you immediately snap your eyes towards her, “Don’t think I don’t know about the two of you.” 

“There isn’t anything to know.” You shake your head at her. 

“There obviously is.” She says, “Or you wouldn’t be sulking the way that you are.” 

“I’m not sulking.” 

“I haven’t brought a liar with me have I ?” She asks, raising her eyebrow at you.

“You haven’t.” She shakes her head, “I am sulking, I’m sorry.” 

“Apology accepted.” She says, pursing her lips, “Are you going to tell me about him, then?” 

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“You’re about to cry, my dear.” She flutters her eyes to you slightly, “I could sense your heartbreak from a mile away. He’s the reason you wanted to come, isn’t he?” 

“I wanted to come.” You say, messing with your fingers that sat on your lap, “He just. . . gave me a reason to finally do it.” 

“I think he’s the idiot in this situation.” She says after a few seconds and your lips part in shock, before you clamp them back together, “He’s the one who got involved with you and your sister. I wonder if he can even get out of bed.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Well. First of all your sister broke his heart by not marrying him and marrying that other man, I’ve already forgotten his name.” She shakes her head, “Then you broke his heart by doing whatever you did when you went to go see him on Christmas Eve and you’ve been depressed ever since you left.” 

“Who told you that?” 

“Who do you think?” Aunt Jemima clicks her tongue and shakes her head, “My daughter told me. Wouldn’t stop crying saying that you’re leaving the love of your life and her other daughters pregnant by some pretentious nobody.” 

You run your hand over your forehead, scrunching your face at the fact that everyone knew, “My mother knows too much.” 

“Your mother just knows you.” Aunt Jemima shakes her head, “At least you haven’t ruined your life before it’s even begun, with a child of all things.” 

“You’re just saying that because you never had children.” 

“Why would I want an offspring of myself and some other man?”

“It’s about love, Aunt Jemima.” You can tell that you’re about to cry, so again you turn your head, “When you love someone, that’s something to bring that love into a being.” 

“I just don’t see why.” She says, curling up her nose, “But then again, that’s why I’m seventy, unmarried and childless. Don’t think about the Styles boy too much. You’re going to a different country for heavens sake, think of all of the people that you’ll meet whilst you’re there. You’ll forget him soon, my dear, and he’ll forget you. That’s what we’ll hope for anyway.” 

The tears do start to fall now, in quick streams down down your cheeks. You couldn’t stop them. Aunt Jemima, no matter how much you despised her sometimes, she certainly knew what she was talking about. You turned your head so that you were looking away from your aunt, looking out of the window and trying your hardest not to let any sobs fall out of your lips.

You did love Harry and if he had stopped your from getting into the carriage, your probably would. If he had asked to marry you, you probably would have said yes without any hesitation but at the same time you also felt as though you were second best, and that wasn’t a place that you ever thought you’d be.

No matter how much you loved him, and yearned to be with him, you knew for the sake of your sanity and for the sake of staying as a strong independent woman. You were taught from being young from your mother that no matter how many people try to say that all you were worth is more than just being the wife of some rich man. Your mother also said that you had a talent and that you had to use it. 

France was going to be the place that you were going to use your talents, and be a better person for doing so. 

Four Years Later

“Pierre.” You say, smiling at the man as he held his hand out to you, “Puis-je vous demander ce que vous faites?” May I ask what you’re doing? 

“Je demande à la plus belle fille de la pièce de danser.” You can’t help the blush that falls across your cheeks. You nod your head and slip your hand into his, standing up and following him into the middle of the dance floor. I’m asking the most beautiful girl in the room to dance. 

The music changes around them to one of the most popular songs in Paris to dance to. He lifts his arm up, just as you do to his, and start the movements in the same way that everyone else in the room had.

You had arrived in France with Aunt Jemima four years ago, fresh faced after the journey and ready to start your new life there.  At first it took a while for you to get used to the new life that you now lived. Aunt Jemima’s French house, if it was even possible, was bigger that her house back home with more nooks and crannies to explore but more importantly, a bigger garden that you could paint every corner of. The main thing that you focused on during the first few months of your arrival was settling in and learning the language which you knew would be hard, but it was something that you needed to do. 

Pierre was the person who had helped you do that. 

Aunt Jemima had hired him to be your French tutor. She said that he was one of the best for you, and that he certainly was. You learnt the basics within the first few months until you were able to finally communicate with the people around you in their native language. At first, you despised Pierre and his pretentious way of making you feel small, but here you were, fours years later, dancing with him and waiting for his proposal at some point. 

Aunt Jemima would be turning within her grave if she knew you were planning to marry Pierre. Even though she hired him when you first arrived to teach you, but she found him incompetent to do anything else. She could tell that you were falling for him, and told you multiple times to not settle for him but you were ignoring her. 

If you listened to every one who your Aunt Jemima told you to not settle for, you’d never marry at all. 

“Do you have plans tomorrow?” He asks, in English this time, his accent seeping through with every word that he spoke. 

“Plans?” You raise your eyebrow, “To paint, yes, but I suppose I can clear my schedule.” 

After learning the French language, that was when you had started your painting classes. You started taking everything in, listening to every single word the teacher said to you until you were good enough to start on your own. The first time one of your pieces was shown in an exhibit, people loved it, and you found yourself creating more and more works and creating more and more links with people around. 

“Do.” He says, nodding his head, “Je veux t’emmener quelque part. Quelque part spécial.” I want to take you somewhere. Somewhere special.

You bite your lip, nodding your head whilst trying to suppress the large smile that’s ready to cross your entire face. 

Pierre was a hopeless romantic, always showering you in large gestures that caused your heart to flutter within your chest. He hadn’t kissed you, and even though you knew that you knew deep down that you shouldn’t compare it, you found yourself not feeling the way that you did the last time you found yourself with a man. 

At twenty-three you were late to get married, and if you ever wanted kids you would have to do so quicker than anything you had ever done in your life because you knew that your days were going to start become numbered. 

“What time should I be ready?” 

“I’ll pick you up at eleven.” 

The song ends, your courtesy and he bows and that’s when you walk back towards the table you were sat at, picking up your glass of Champagne and taking a sip. 

“YN.” You stop drinking immediately, nearly choking on the liquid that you had already started to sip. You know that voice anywhere, etched into your brain from when you were just a mere eighteen year old with a heart twice the size of the one you had now, “As I live and breathe.” 

You turn around, immediately seeing a man that you had left years ago stood in front of you. He looked exactly the same as when you knew him all those years ago, except his features were a tad harder and his hair curler that it was before if it was even possible which you weren’t too sure about. 

“Harry.” You swallow the lump in your throat, placing your glass down on the table and turning so that you were facing him, “It’s been a while.” 

“It certainly has.” He says, lifting his own glass to his lips, “You look good. Happy.” 

“I am.” You nod your head. You look at him, his eyes emptier that you had ever seen them before, not even when Lizzie refused to marry him, “I wish I could say the same for you, but. . .” 

“I look exhausted.” 

“You do.” You say, watching as his lips curled up into a smile as do yours, “How are you? Genuinely.” 

“I’m. . .” 

“Ma chérie.” You feel an arm slip around your waist, rest upon the small of it as he stands next to you, “Qui est-ce?” My darling. Who is this? 

“Ah.” You brush a piece of your hair that had fallen out of place away from your face, “Pierre, this is Harry. Harry this is Pierre.” 

Harry raises his eyebrows, lifting the glass to his lips to drink the rest of it. As you watch, it doesn’t seem to even hits the sides with how quickly he drinks it. 

“Bonjour.” Pierre holds his hand out to Harry, “Comment allez vous?”

Harry looks at Pierre’s hand but he doesn’t shake it, and that’s when you lift your fingers to run against your forehead, “Are you two, marié?” Married.

“No.” You shake your head, stepping to the side slightly so that Pierre’s hand isn’t upon your waist anymore, “We are. . .” 

“Courting.” Pierre’s quick to interject, “I think that’s what to call it.” 

You watch as Harry’s eyebrows raise, and without saying anything to the two of you, he turns around and mutters, “I need another drink.” 

As he walks away, you can see the slight stagger in his walk, one that many intoxicated people hold and you know that him being not himself treads deeper than just seeing you there today. 

“YN.” Pierre places a hand upon your shoulder, “How do you know that man?” 

“He’s someone from home.” You say, watching as Harry drinks another full glass of Champagne where he’s staggered off to, “He’s an old friend.” 

He leans down until you can feel his breath at your ear, “Just a friend.” 

You nod, leaning into him as he places a kiss to your neck, “Bien.” Good.

Since Pierre wasn’t picking you up until eleven, you decide that you have the time to at least start your next painting. In the garden of your Aunts house that you had inherited, you had built a gazebo with the money that you had made from selling your art pieces to exhibits that overlooked the garden and the pond from the four different directions that it had around it. 

You had decided that the swans that swum in the pond were looking particularly delightful today and you decide that is the direction that you want to start your painting. You set up your easel and your canvas, as well as your paints that you brought on a palette and start figuring out the dimensions of the painting and what you wanted it to look like. 

You hold up your paintbrush, closing one of your eyes as you move it from portrait to landscape and back again. 

“You always were a perfectionist.” The paintbrush in your hand clatters you the ground as it slips through your fingers, due to you jumping. You weren’t expecting anyone to be here, and you certainly weren’t expecting to hear his voice. 

“And you always had a tendency to shock people.” He laughs, his dress shoes hitting the decking with loud pats.

“My apologies.” He says, slipping one of his hands into the pocket of his trousers, taking another step closer to you, “I didn’t mean to shock you, love.” 

You place your palette down, brushing your hands off slightly on your apron. You’d usually wear your comfortable clothes to paint in, the attire usually not even being a skirt but often trousers, but because you were meeting Pierre later, you knew that you had to dress up. It wasn’t the fanciest dress you owned, but the light blue material complimented your features in a way that you just couldn’t resist when you saw it in the shop. 

“Yes you did.” You lips curl up into a smile, “You forget that I know you Harry, even after all these years.” 

“Lots of things can change in four years, YN.” 

“You haven’t.” 

“You haven’t, either.” He smiles.

You tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear and take a step closer to him, clearing your throat slightly as you do so, “I want to apologise for last night. Pierre can be a little. . .” 

“Intrusive.” Harry leans against the pillar nearest to him and you nod, knowing that is exactly what he is. 

“I’m very sorry. I would have loved to have caught up with you.” 

“I probably wouldn’t have been in the best frame of mind to do so.” He runs his fingers through his hair, “I was drunk, if you couldn’t tell.” 

“I could.” 

“Now.” He lifts his hand up and motions to the garden around you, “Are you going to tell me what I’ve missed in the last four years?” 

“Uh.” You move so you’re stood next to him, leant against the barrier, “I moved with Aunt Jemima. This was her house but she died a year ago, if I remember correctly. She left me the house in her will, and I decided that I wanted to stay.” 

“Have you been at home at all during the last four years?” 

You nod your head, “I went home when Lizzie got married, that was when I met Anna for the first time. Then I went back for Aunt Jemima’s funeral because she decided she didn’t want to be buried here.” 

“I must have missed you.” He says, “I spent a lot of the last four years in England with my grandparents.” 

“Lizzie told me.” You say, “She said that she did invite you to the wedding but your father explained that you were in England.” 

He nods his head, “I left a few months after you. I think my father was fed up of my moping.” 

It shouldn’t have hurt you, but his words did. Your chest squeezed slightly at his words. Even though you knew you were doing what you were doing to benefit yourself, you couldn’t lie and say that you hadn’t missed him. You had lost a friend when you left, as well as your first love. 

“Are you married?” You ask, not really knowing why the words escape from your lips in the way that they do. 

He shakes his head, holding his hand up to reveal his completely ring free hand, “Nope. I can’t really say that I’ve been looking.” 

“I’m sure you’ve had opportunities.” You say, “You’re the perfect gentlemen, Harry. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve had women queuing to marry you.” 

He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “People have tried but I haven’t been interested.” 

“Why not?” 

“Some may say that I’m still hung up on somebody.” His eyes flutter away from yours, and you take it as the opportunity to look down at your hands, “But that doesn’t matter. What about you and Mr. Intrusive.” 

You chuckle, lifting your eyes up to look at his, “He was my French language teacher. I didn’t like him, despised him to be fair but here were are a few years later and I think he’s going to propose to me later today.” 

“Do you want to marry him?” 

If you were asked this question but anybody else, you probably would have immediately said yes and that was enough for you to know that you should marry him. But seeing Harry stood there, the way that he is, waiting for you to answer what should be one of the easiest questions ever, reminds you that this may have gotten a lot more confusing now with Harry’s reappearance. 

“I. . .” You hesitate and drop your eyes down to the ground again, “I think so.” 

“You think?” He says, “I can’t say that I believe that you do if you only think that you want to marry him.” 

“I do.” You say, quickly. 

Harry stands up and takes a few steps towards the opposite end of the gazebo, “Do you love him?” 

This answer, so it should be another one, was easy to answer, “No.” 

“Then why are you marrying him.” 

“I’m twenty-three, Harry.” You say, your heels tapping the wood as you move to stand next to him, looking at the pond in front of you, “I’m certainly not getting any younger. If I returned home to mother and father without a husband and children I believe they would disown me.” 

“They wouldn’t.” He shakes his head, “They love you too much.” 

“I’ve had three letters from them asking about grandchildren.” You deadpan, looking at him with a stoic look on their face. 

“I’m sure they wouldn’t want to marry someone who you don’t love.” He says.

“If I don’t marry Pierre, who will I marry?” 

After a few seconds, the smallest whispers escapes his lips, “You could marry me.” 

The whole world seems to slow down around you, and you turn to look at him. He’s already looking at you, with those green eyes that you became so accustomed to all those years ago. You knew each other in all for three months, but you spent every second of every day with each other when Lizzie was away, and it certainly showed with how close you became. Marrying Harry could be the thing that you need, have always needed. You haven’t been as happy as you were when you were back him with him in a long time. 

“Harry.” You say, the words coming out in a small whisper, “You can’t mean that.” 

“I do.” He says, quickly to say the least, “I haven’t been more sure about anything in my life before.” 

“Harry—”

“Madame.” One of the groundskeepers say, walking towards the two of you, “Monsieur Perney est là.” Mr. Perney is here. 

“Merci, Alfred.” You clear your throat to try and mask the uncertainty in your voice, “Ça ne prendra qu’un seconde.” Thank you, Alfred. I will only be a second. 

The man nods and walks away, and you turn back to look at Harry, who has the same look on his face as you do on yours. There’s a level of defeat between the two of you. 

“I need to, um, go meet with Pierre.” You say, hands gripping the material of your dress. 

“Is that a no?” He takes a step towards you. 

You sigh, “It’s a, I have to think about it.” 

He nods, “When will you know? This is probably a good time to tell you that I’m leaving tomorrow.” 

That changed everything. It wasn’t as though now you had a few days to think through and make your decision, you had to make it quickly before he goes. 

“Tomorrow?” 

He nods, “Father’s ill. Paris was my last hooray before I go back home to be an adult.” 

You take a few moments to think, “Will you be able to return back here this evening?” 

“For you? Of course.” He says as though he doesn’t even have to think about it. 

You nod your head and take a few steps towards him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Goodbye Harry.” 

“I’ll see you later, love.” 

“C’est une belle journée.” Pierre says as the two of you walk side by side around a park, the spring heat light upon your skin as you do so. It’s a beautiful day. 

“It is.” You say, not being able to pull your eyes away from the ground below you.

You knew that you shouldn’t be thinking about this at all, that it wasn’t fair to Pierre, but all you could think about was Harry. You couldn’t get the look of his face out of your head as you kissed his cheek and walked away, as though he felt like that was it between the two of you. You were still unsure of the decision that you were going to make, but once you found yourself stood at the top of some steps, looking out at the park below, you knew that you were to make your decision sooner of later. 

“Is something bothering you?” 

“No.” You shake your head, finally lifting your eyes to look at his, “Everything is swell, thank you.” 

“Good.” He takes a step closer so that his fingers are brushing yours, “YN?” 

“Yes?” 

“We’ve known each other for a long time.” He says, and the two of you turn so that you’re facing each other, his hands gripping yours, “A very long time, and I was wondering whether I could ask you something?” 

“We have.” You know what the question is before the words have left his lips, and you’re already beginning to prepare yourself for what you’re going to hear the next time he open his lips, “And you can.” 

He clears his throat and fumbles within his inside pocket, drawing out what you know is a ring box. He lets go of your hand which he was still holding with his free one and drops down to his knee, using his other hand to open the small box. 

“YN YLN.” He sighs, “Ma chérie. Will you marry me?” 

The same feeling that you felt before overcomes you, when the whole world around you seems to be moving in slow motion. He looks so happy, his cheeks lifting in a wide grin that you can’t seem to shake from your sight. You can’t even bring yourself to look at the ring he had chosen for you, because it was at that time, seeing him on his knee, that you know what your answer is. 

“I’m so sorry, Pierre.” You slip your bottom lip between your teeth, “I don’t think I can.” 

“What?” His whole face drops, and guilt starts to wash over you. He immediately stands up, looking at you with wide eyes, “No?” 

You shake your head, “I’m so sorry, Pierre.” 

“I thought that you wanted to marry me.” He shakes his head, “Comment ai je pu être si stupide?” How could I have been so stupid?

“You haven’t. I promise you, Pierre.” You reach your hand forward to touch his arm, but he moves away from you, not wanting you to touch him you suppose, “I did want to marry you.” 

“What has changed?” You look at him with sad eyes, tears threatening to spill and you watch the realisation flutter across his features, “He has.” 

You drop your head, lifting your hand to wipe away the tears that had started to spill, “I’m so sorry.” 

“Who is he?” His features switch to angry ones next, and his voice deepens and it shocks you to say the least, “You have never mentioned him and now you will not marry me because of him?” 

“He’s an old friend from hime, like I said.” You repeat your words from the party last night, “I haven’t seen him since I moved here.” 

“Do you love him?” The words are quick to leave his lips and you once again drop your head, in shame if you are completely honest, “Do you? I want to hear you say it?” 

“I do.” His hostile tone scared you into answering, “I always have.” 

“Did you ever love me?” 

You shake your head, the little movement causing him to throw you one of the worst looks you’ve ever seen in your life and stalk away from you. Tears stream down your face, and you know that you probably look the worst you’ve ever looked in your life at this given moment but you couldn’t care less. You thought that you’d feel worse than you do, but you you feel more relieved than anything. You feel bad that you’ve had to break his heart, but the idea of going back home with Harry, seeing your family and saying that he is the man that you’re going to marry was enough for your heart to burst with excitement. 

In your opinion, you couldn’t return home quick enough. The second you return to the house you’re fluttering around as quickly as possible, packing all the belongings that you’d need immediately when you returned but you knew that you could get the rest of your belongings shipped in at a later date. 

The evening rolled around quicker that you had imagined it would, but you supposed time went quickly when you’re packing to go across the world with the love of your life. When you hear the knock at your door, you race to open it, not caring what people think because all you want is to see him. 

You throw the door open, and there he is, stood in the exact same suit that you’d seen him in earlier. He did look tireder then he did earlier, but if you had spent the day worrying you probably would’ve looked worse than he did. 

“Come in.” You open the door wider, so that he can step in, “Please.” 

He takes a few seconds to look around at the entrance way to the house, his lips parting at the sheer size of it as you did when you first arrived. Aunt Jemima was an odd woman, you couldn’t lie, but she certainly knew how to pick a lovely house. You’d probably sell it now that you were going back to America. 

He looked around for a while before he noticed your pile of belongings in the corner, all packed away and ready to leave. 

His eyes meet yours and he looks as though he’s going to cry at any given moment, “Really?” 

You nod your head, “I want to marry you, Harry. Always have.” 

He takes two steps forward and places his lips on yours, his hands falling to your cheeks. It sent you back to four years ago, stood in the library after you’d just kissed him. You couldn’t believe that he was back with you, kissing your lips in the way that you had yearned for him too for so many years. 

He pulls away and rests his head upon yours with a sigh, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Ever since that day. I should’ve done more.” 

“It was my fault.” You thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, “I shouldn’t have left. I should have sulked for a while but gone back to you. I missed you so terribly.” 

“I know why you did it.” He says, pressing another quick kiss to your lips, “I shouldn’t have proposed to your sister when it was you who made me happy. I knew that I shouldn’t have the second I said it, and I’m sorry for that.” 

“We’ll start a fresh.” You whisper, resting your forehead upon his, “Forget everything that happened four years ago and start fresh. I love you, Harry. I always have.” 

“I love you too.” 

You lean forward and place your lips on his again, his hands resting comfortably upon your waist. It felt so familiar for you to be in his arms, his lips upon yours. He was the only person you had ever kissed, and now he’d be the only person that you’d ever kiss, and you certainly weren’t complaining about that. 

“You may now kiss the bride!” 

Harry smiles at you, and you beam up at him before the two of you lean forward and kiss each other. Cheers and applause erupt around the two of you, as well as confetti and flowers being thrown across the two of you as you walk down the aisle. 

You had arrived a few months ago from Paris, and immediately thrown into trying to nurse Harry’s father back to health, which didn’t go to plan. It was hard on Harry, but he had you and that was the most important thing to him. His Father gave you his blessing for the marriage, saying that it was the best thing he’d heard in a while. The funeral was a few weeks later, and the two of you decided to have the wedding two months afterwards.

The two of you were moving into Harry’s house, across the road from the house that your mother and father still lived in. You had so many plans for what you wanted to do to with the place, seeing as though it was way too big for the two of you to live in on your own. 

It was your wedding night, and you were walking up towards the front door of the house when you felt Harry’s arm slipping under your thighs. You squeal as he picks you up, wrapping your arms around Harry’s neck. Giggling, you lean forward and place a kiss to his cheek, causing the dimples to show within his cheeks. 

“I love you, husband.” You say, smiling as he places you down in the entry way. 

“I love you too.” He leans forward and places a kiss to your lips, “Wife.” 

It was as though the atmosphere within the room changed the second he said that word. His hands found your hips, resting on the material of your dress. You took a step backwards, causing you to press your back against the inside of the door, your lips immediately attacked by his. Your hips involuntarily buck up to Harry’s, causing a groan to escape from his lips. After a few seconds, he pulls away, kissing down your neck. 

“Harry.” You whisper, feeling a moan ready to tumble from your lips at the feeling of his teeth grazing your neck, “Take me upstairs.” 

“Are you sure?” You nod your head and he’s quick to pick you up again, this time carrying you over his shoulder. You squeal and grip his shoulders to steady yourself, “Better give my wife what she wants.”

Once you were up the stairs safely, he placed you down and connected your lips again. The first thing you did once your feet touched the ground again, you gripped the edge of his suit jacket and pushed it off his shoulders, listening to the material tumble to the ground and drop. 

“Can I take your shirt off?” You mumble against his lips and he hums, allowing you to unbutton his shirt and shrugging that material off of his shoulders. This was the most you’d seen of Harry naked, and another human being at that. 

“What about you?” He says, walking you both back until he’s sat on the bed, “Can I see you?” 

“You’ll have to help.” You giggle, turning around. He starts to unbutton your dress, letting the material slip from your body into a pile upon the floor. He starts to unfasten your corset next, allowing that to slip from your body also. You were very exposed now, and you knew that, but the way that Harry looked at you sent all of your worries flying from your head. 

He leaned back on his arms and clambered back into his lap, similarly to the way you had done all those years ago when you first kissed in the library of this very house. You wrapped your arms around his neck, just has his rested upon the exposed skin of your waist. 

“YN?” You hum against his lips, “Can I make you feel good?” 

You pull away and nod, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. It made you feel nervous that he was going to see you in the way that he was but this was Harry, your husband and the person you had wished to be touching you and near to the years that you had been apart. He helps remove the rest of your undergarments until you’re completely naked in front of him, laying and waiting for whatever he is going to do to you. He removes his trousers and underwear as you do so. There’s something about seeing him like that causes your hear to flutter and the rest of you to follow it. 

He hovers over you, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips before moving down your neck and to your chest until he reaches your breasts, pressing kiss to the plushy skin around it until he wraps his lips around your nipple, lifting his hand up to pinch the other one between his fingers. 

“Fuck, love.” He smiles up at you as you whither beneath him, feeling all of your senses heightened at the feeling of him on your skin. 

He kisses down from your breasts to your stomach until his face is directly where you want it the most, where you’re literally throbbing for him. Without any warning, he leans forward and starts to attack your clit with his tongue, causing your hips to buck up from the bed and moans threatening to spill from your lips. Your hand drops to the top of his head, tugging at the curls that rest there. You’ve never felt like this, ever, in your life and you believe that if you feel it too much you will become accustomed to it. Your thighs try to clamp around his head but he stops you from doing so by gripping your thighs with his hands. After a particularly hard tug of his curls, a moan erupts from Harry and vibrates against your clit causing you to shudder. 

He moved one of his hands up from your thigh to run over your wet slit, “Can I?” 

“Please.” You’re quite embarrassed about how breathy it comes out but once he slips one of his fingers in, and a whine escapes his lips you can’t be bothered to care about the sounds that are leaving your lips. 

“I need to stretch you out.” He says, curling his finger in you, “Can I?” 

You nod your head, “Please.” 

He pushes another finger into you, leaning his head back down to attack your clit again. He’s quite gentle with his tongue, using it to make a skilled attack on your clit, using it and his fingers to coax you closer and closer to the first ever orgasm you are to experience. 

“Harry.” You whine his name and the feeling washes over you quicker than you had expected it too, but at the same time the man knew what he was doing and you to bring you to that peak. He continued to move his fingers and kitten lick at your clit until your thighs stop shaking. Once you have, he moves up your body again and kisses you. 

“Good?” 

“Really good.” You laugh, wrapping your arm around his neck, “I want to feel you, H.” 

“Certain? Because we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

“I do.” You place your hand on his cheek, pecking his lips, “I want to.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You smile, “It’s going to hurt whether we do it now or later. I want to.” 

It’s uncomfortable to say the least, the feeling contrasting the one that you had felt earlier. You weren’t in a lot of pain, but it made it a little harder to feel the pleasure that you know you can feel from this act, Lizzie had told you plenty about it when you were younger. Harry grunted as he pushed into you, scrunching up his features. From the way that little groans and deep breaths escaped his lips, you knew that he was feeling an immense amount of pleasure. 

“Feel good?” He grunts against your neck, pressing a small kiss to the skin as you smile, running your nails down his back. You knew that he was close, from the way he twitched inside of you, and your tried everything to coax it out of him. 

“Feel so good, love.” He comes soon after his words, spilling into you and filling you up. 

He collapses on top of you and you hold him close to you, pushing his curls off of his forehead that have stuck. You giggle as his pouts his lips, leaning down to play a kiss to them. 

“I love you so much.” You smile. 

“And I, you.” He pulls you close, “You were never second best, I hope you know that.” 

“I do now.” 

Three Years Later

“Mary.” You smile, placing your hand on the back of the little girls shoulder, “That looks beautiful.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Styles.” She says, continuing to add the green paint to her painting. 

You and Harry figured out not that long after what do with the large house you had been left by his father. With your art and French skills, and Harry’s love for reading and slight knowledge of simple maths, you decided to convert the house into a school for the kids in the village. It was a place for them to come without having to worry and learn and focus on new skills. 

At this point you had just finished one of your art classes and left the kids to let their creativity flow with some paper and paints, as well as pencils and other materials for them to use. You were making your way outside, smiling at the sight of Harry sat in the garden with a group of children sat around him, listening to every word he spoke as he read from a book. 

The next thing you saw was your sister, stood with her husband and her children. You were surprised to see your little boy, Oscar, sat comfortably in her arms. The second he sees you, he’s making grabby arms in your direction. 

He had just turned one and was now in a phase of not wanting to walk but be carried everywhere. He was certainly his father’s son, in more ways than one. He looked identical to his father, with green eyes and unruly brown curls and dimples, but he was also the exact same person as your husband, and if you thought it was a struggle to live with one Harry Styles, having an Oscar Styles as well was just as hard. 

“Hi baby.” You pick him up and place him on your hip, his hand resting on your neck lovingly. From the way he drops his head to your shoulder, you can tell he’s almost ready for his nap. You smile and press a kiss to his cheek. 

Harry comes over a few seconds later and kisses you on the lips briefly and places a kiss to Oscar’s cheeks. The two of you look over at what you have created for the kids around you and smile at each other. 

“I’m glad I didn’t give up on you.” 

“Me neither.” You smile, “I love you, mon chéri.” 

“I love you too.” 

Oscar looks up at the two of you with a pout on his lips, causing Harry to chuckle, “And we love you too, little man.” 

[ghirahimbo]

beginnings

a non-specific take on how the Link and Ghirahim master/sword AU might come about. I probably won't post this one to ao3 yet in case I decide to use it in a story someday, but I liked it enough to put it here, at least :)

--

In the Sealed Grounds where the demon hordes had trampled the earth so recently in their violent rampage, the transition to silence was complete. The whistling chirp of birds, the buzz of insects… even the wind through the trees had gone deathly still, all caught up in breathless waiting. Only the pool of inky darkness at the center of Demise's broken prison seemed to breathe, pulsing slowly in and out with uneasy life. Small though it was compared to the spiraling pit containing it, the darkness pulled at the cloud-covered twilight as if its strength alone might dim it. Consume it.

At last, the dark pool recoiled in agitation, and from its churning depths emerged a boy in a green knight’s tunic that had certainly known more pristine days. Bloodied and bruised, yet swaying triumphantly as if standing itself was a triumph, Link stumbled out of the pit’s embrace, adjusting his wet hat to fit more firmly over the mess of hair still dripping from his watery battlefield. The sky above seemed to captivate him, and he craned his head back to stare at the darkened clouds, half in wonder, half in disbelief. Then the hilt of his sword flashed, and a shimmering blue woman emerged to float in front of him.

“Master,” she said, catching his attention. “With the defeat of the demon king Demise, there is a 95% chance that your friend Zelda has already regained consciousness.” Her voice softened almost imperceptibly. “I believe I can say with 100% certainty that she would like to know you are well.”

Link stared at her for another moment, scrubbing a hand over his mouth.

“Of course,” he murmured, and for the first time, he grinned. “Let’s go.”

Strengthened by his anticipation, Link broke into a limping run, eager to put the forsaken pit behind him—but before he could take more than a few steps, a new voice froze him in his tracks.

“Wait.”

Heart sinking like a rock, Link whirled around, one hand hovering warily over the hilt of his sword as a new figure emerged from the retreating darkness. Ghirahim’s skin glimmered like polished obsidian in the fading light, smooth and unmarred except for where fiery cracks split his chest, and a glowing diamond at its center pulsed an erratic, angry red. Cradled against his shattered core was an enormous black sword, its sharp edge not even scratching the skin where it rested against Ghirahim’s hardened arms.

Milky white eyes met tired blue in a silent clash, as if neither had the strength necessary to put words to their feud. Then, without warning, Ghirahim hefted his sword, driving it point first into the softened earth and falling to one knee before it.

“Take it.”

Link blinked, and took a wary step back.

“…What?”

“Take it.” Despite his clear exhaustion, Ghirahim’s voice had that same teasing bite to it as always, coupled now with impatience as he gestured towards the sword. “You defeated my old master Demise, which means his sword is yours to claim. Take it.”

Link stared at him, dumbfounded, and a slow smile curved across Ghirahim’s thin dark lips.

“Let me put it this way,” he said pleasantly. “This sword belongs to you whether you wish it so or not, but things will go much more… smoothly… if you take it now.”

Link shook his head as if to dismiss the notion, fixing Ghirahim with a glare.

“I already have a sword,” he said coldly, starting to turn aside, but this time a light chime from Fi made him stop.

“Master Link,” she said, her cool voice strangely gentle. “I’m afraid that I was not created to remain by your side forever. The demon king’s remaining essence is now sealed within my sword, to be carefully guarded until it is eradicated. The time of our parting will be soon.” She hesitated, and added, “Very soon.”

The first drops of rain began to fall, scattered and sparse. Link stared at Fi incredulously.

“You’re not saying I should trust him,” he said, not really a question, and Fi shook her head.

“Such judgments are not mine to make. I can only report that I sense no immediate intent to do harm from Lord Ghirahim, though whether he hopes to deceive you is less clear. Any further statements would be mere conjecture on my part.”

“Would you mind conjecting then?” Link asked, pursing his lips. After a moment, Fi nodded.

“Master Link…” Her words came with slow reluctance now. “Despite the foreordination of our partnership, I was still given the privilege of choosing you as my master. If what Ghirahim says is true and his sword has passed ownership from the demon king to you, I must surmise that he was not granted that same privilege of choosing Demise.”

“If what he says is true,” Link repeated, sparing another glare for the still-kneeling demon lord. Ghirahim had so far watched their exchange in enigmatic silence, not quite smiling, though he half raised an eyebrow at Link’s scowl. The steadily increasing rain slithered unnoticed in rivulets down his face, striking against his arms with short, metallic plinks.

“I stated that I could not discern whether he hopes to deceive you in some way, and this is true. However…” She paused in consideration. “I do sense a newfound connection between you and that sword, as well as between you and Lord Ghirahim himself. My opinion is that he is telling the truth, in this regard, at least.”

Link stared at her in dismay, and Ghirahim laughed softly.

“Your robotic guide is right, I’m afraid," he murmured. "I’ll have you know that you were not my first choice either, but I think we both know better than most how little control we have over the whims of destiny. Never in this sword’s history has it passed to a human, but it appears our thread of fate has some twists that even I could not predict.”

“There is no thread—“ Link started to say hotly, but let it go with a sigh. Even he could see how pointless finishing that sentence would be. “I suppose you come with the sword, then?”

“I am the sword,” Ghirahim said, his pale eyes glittering. Link paused only a second before nodding. After bearing Fi for so long, he understood how that worked, at least.

“If…” Link took a deep breath, glancing again at Fi. “If I take you with me… what’s to stop you from trying to kill me still?”

“I am physically incapable now of even harming you,” he said, and Link’s eyebrows shot up. A possibility much easier to disprove than prove, but…

“What about Zelda?” he demanded, and Ghirahim’s grin widened.

“On your orders, I would go so far as to guard her from harm, and catch her each time she stumbles,” he said smoothly. Link’s face darkened.

“What about—“

“Master, must we really go through every order that I will or will not obey?” Ghirahim cut him off irritably. “I will obey them all, insofar as I am able. Was it not the same with…?”

He gestured vaguely towards Fi, who looked at him.

“Fi is the designation I was given,” she said, prompting a tight grin.

“Wonderful! I didn’t need or desire to know that.”

“Wait,” Link interjected, his mind spinning slightly. “...You called me master.”

“Is he this slow all the time?” Ghirahim asked Fi incredulously. “How do you put up with it?”

Link let the insult slide, still reeling as he tried to gather his thoughts. Would Ghirahim really debase himself so far just for a chance at revenge? There were other, easier ways to go about it if that was his aim, ways involving less personal humiliation. Fi thought he was telling the truth—about some things, at least—which maybe meant…

“What am I supposed to do with that sword, anyway?” Link said abruptly. “It’s too big for me to even…”

The protest died in Link’s throat as for the first time he really looked at the sword, and licked his lips. Without his noticing, the sword had shrunk in size, though it managed to appear no less menacing despite that. If Link were to hold up his Master Sword in comparison, he doubted that there would be a hair’s difference in length.

“I told you,” Ghirahim said, and Link had to fight down a shiver that he told himself was from the rain. “My sword belongs to you now, Link. Take it.”

Once more he looked at Fi, silently questioning, but if she had an opinion on the matter her blank face gave no voice to it.

“Zelda is waiting for you,” was all she said… and somehow, that was enough.

“Fine,” Link sighed reluctantly. He didn't want to find out at that moment how Ghirahim might try to force him if he refused, and Fi was right. It was time to go. “I accept your sword.”

Trudging forward, Link grabbed it by the hilt, thinking that if worse came to worst, he could still throw it off a cliff somewhere—and felt a terribly familiar warmth surge through his palms as he pulled it free, traveling up his arms to settle somewhere in his chest. A tightness fell from Ghirahim’s face that Link hadn’t noticed until that moment, and he bowed his head forward, pressing a hand delicately against his mangled chest.

“The bonding process is now complete, master,” he said, and despite the formality of his words he had a mocking twist to his lips. “Link… my master.”

Thunder boomed overhead as lightning forked viciously across the sky, the rain falling down in sheets. Link, staring at his own black sword, noticed none of it.

[howisavedtheworld]

enough | hanamaki takahiro

genre: heavy angst to fluff, a *lil* bittersweet lmao, timeskip!hanamaki takahiro x fem!reader/gn!reader, established relationship

warnings pls pls read: money problems, cursing littered in a lot of places, mentions of feelings like depression, exhaustion, loneliness, crying, etc., blood mentioned *once* (it’s from a callus, it is nothing extreme but i want to state it explicitly anyways) if there’s anything else brought to my attention ill fix accordingly

a/n: hi!!!! it’s been like two weeks since i’ve posted, i’ve been in a slump, but i’m going to genuinely try to be more consistent and kind to myself abt wat i create! also every thing i’ve ever written on here is ib my personal experiences

heads up tho, i havent read the manga and this is just my dramatized take on his life post-time skip and certain things may be inaccurate 

enjoy!

also proofread at 4 am lol

wc: 1385

PLS GIVE THIS FIC A CHANCE ITS NOT ALL SAD I PROMISE

                                               -

if hanamaki takahiro were to say he’s “tired,” one would deem it a grave understatement.

he’s not just tired.

he’s drained.

for starters, he’s worked three back to back shifts and it was barely reaching wednesday. monday at the deli was tough, considering he spent twelve straight hours packaging and stocking prosciutto and mozzarella sandwiches and arranging bags of kettle-cooked chips by flavor across the aisles of the store.

tuesday was even harder, the double shift at the restaurant hitting his already fatigued body like a brick. it was tiring enough to run around speedily clearing dishes and wiping down tables for six hours but it was absolute overkill to then spend the entire night cleaning the restaurant and prepping it for the morning crew.

6:39 am.

that was when takahiro finally left the restaurant, forcing his sluggish sore limbs to make the trek to the train station for the long ride back home.

in truth, the word “tired” barely even scratched the surface.

but he needed the money.

he needed it badly.

bills were always lingering on the brim of takahiro’s mind: the rent, the light bill, the water, the electricity. it left with him the constant urge to move, to work, to always be on the lookout for his next paycheck.

and of course, this wasn’t the best arrangement nor was it the life he’d hoped for.

of course, regret encompassed him, bound itself to his very being.

he wished he went pro after his glory days at aoba johsai, that he’d tried a little harder to be something. maybe then he’d have the opportunity to play in argentina, to travel the world, or to get signed by a sports brand just for the sake of it.

of course, he always felt a pang of jealousy for the ones that made it big.

even the ones who didn’t.

the ones with stable incomes, who could sustain themselves with only one job, who owned compact sized cars, who could actually save a single dime with hopes of eventually going on vacation.

deep down, he was jealous of them, too.

and he wondered, as he finally stepped foot on the train heading north, feeling the ache in his heels settle, if this would ever feel like enough.

if working two jobs back to back would ever amount to any feeling of satisfaction, if it was okay that he would only ever be remembered as the guy who didn’t go pro, who never got his degree, who was barely getting by.

he really didn’t think so.

because how could it be enough?

how could he have nothing to show for the life he lived?

sometimes, takahiro felt almost as if he was cursed. that life had dealt him the worst of cards just to see him crack underneath the pressure.

a lot of times, he did.

he had his fair share of low moments: the time he found himself shedding tears in the back of the deli, hiding behind loaves of rye bread and cold cuts hoping nobody would catch him.

or the time he bandaged his own bleeding foot by himself at the restaurant because his calluses broke open and everyone else was simply too busy to help.

in these moments, hanamaki felt so alone.

as if the world had forgotten him, had continued to spin on its axis, leaving him alone to figure out its rotation.

in these moments, he really just wanted to run away from it all.

to quit his jobs and just disappear for some time.

but he couldn’t.

because hanamaki takahiro had also learned that in every shitty day or moment, there was a flip side.

there had to be a sliver of hope in the midst of darkness.

7:32 am. 

that was when hanamaki got home.

he stood for a moment, fumbling with various receipts and trinkets in his pocket before he finding his keys and opening the door.

it was quiet. 

he could only hear the whirr of the shaky air conditioner and the hum of morning birds outside the bay windows of the living room. he took one step inside, wincing at the ache in his legs and sharp jab of pain up his spine.

locking the door behind him, he slipped off his shoes before the silence was broken.

“baby?” your soft sleepy voice rang through the apartment, making his body jump.

he was sure you’d be sleeping by now.

“hey, babe.” he let out a exhale of relief that you were the source of noise. “sorry if i woke you.” 

you sat up from your position laying on the couch, shaking your head incessantly while wiping the grog from your eyes.

“no,” you quickly spoke. “i was waiting for you.”

his heart skipped a beat looking at you, your eyes half-lidded from exhaustion with dark circles underneath them, your hair completely disheveled from your awkward sleeping position on the couch, and you wore his old seijoh jersey that was too large and slipped down your shoulders, the hem falling just above your knees.

you looked at him, offering a soft smile before beckoning him over to you. “work must’ve fucking sucked, c’mere.”

and you were so right.

it was awful.

he took lengthy strides over to you before dropping onto the couch, his head finding its way to your lap.

your fingers instinctively reached to stroke his soft locks and he sighed, leaning into your touch.

“are you hungry?” you murmured. “i made udon earlier. it’s cold now so you’ll have to warm it up.”

he was hungry, desperately so after not having a moment to get even a small snack in at work, but he wanted to stay here for just a little longer, pressed into you, feeling the pads of your fingers against his scalp, smelling your conditioner and listening to the softness of your voice.

he shook his head, and you laughed, knowingly nodding. “okay, you can eat it later.”

“how was work for you?” he questioned, eyes fluttering closed at serenity of the moment.

you hummed, fingers still locked into his hair. “shitty. you know, usual bullshit with customers. but i think with my next paycheck, we’ll make the rent.”

his eyes snapped open to look up at you, and you were staring down at him, an excited smile on your face when you locked eyes.

and takahiro knew you had hopes and dreams, that you wanted to go back to school and get your degree and have a normal job, and eventually buy a house and car, and maybe have kids, but you always said that part wearily, claiming you both should start off the family off with a pet first.

he knew you wanted something different. you’d told him.

but even now, in this moment as he stared up at you, saddened by the fact that the future you hoped for was nowhere in sight, there was no inkling of disappointment in your eyes, no what-if, no questioning of if it was enough.

you looked at him like the life you had was all you’d ever asked for.

as if of course it was enough.

before he knew it, a single tear rolled down his cheek.

your eyes widened and you moved a hand to his cheek, wiping the tear away.

“i love you.” he stated, a few more lone tears sliding down his face.

your face softened before you squeezed his cheek with your hand.

“hey.” you beckoned him to sit up.

he followed, sitting up to face your frame on the couch. “don’t cry ‘cus we made the rent. there’s always other bills you can pay. if that’s what you’re worried about.”

and he laughed, nodding while tears spilled over his irises and he watched you through bleary eyes, wipe each one away and pull him into an embrace.

“i love you. you know that, right? i’ll always love you.”

hanamaki takahiro realized that in this lifetime, he doesn’t need a sports deal, or a compact car, or trips to argentina. even if life were to always be this hard, if he was always teetering on the in-between, if this was all the universe had to offer him, that was okay.

because it had granted him you.

and you, alone, were more than enough.

[littlemisslipbalm]

“Okay, lover boy”

For @bfharry boyfriendathon!!! A trip to Paris with your loving boyfriend Harry!

this gif bc sweetie! but also bc this is the coat he’s wearing :)

We’ve got fluff, (a little) angst, and smut for y’all and music always. I love Paris, was actually there this time last year so I was feeling nostalgic! Also Harry in Europe is always A+++ Hope y’all enjoy and feedback is ALWAYS appreciateddd

Word Count: 5.2k | Warnings: some self-doubt, oral!male receiving, mentions of sex, language? 

-

Summer in Paris. The most romantic place in the world with the loveliest weather. Except, the weather wasn’t exactly lovely. But it was quite romantic and that’s what you decided to focus on. Harry and you had flown off to get away from the world by living in the South of France for the Summer. First, you had begged Harry to spend a good three days in Paris before heading to the countryside. He had obviously agreed. Today was your second day.

“Love, wake up,” Harry cooed softly in your ear.

You stirred in the plush bed and slowly sat up in the mess of sheets. You rubbed at your eyes and when you blinked them open you saw Harry standing before you. He was already dressed in striped trousers and a striped shirt under a sweater vest and seemed to have run out to bring you coffee in bed. He crossed to perch on the bed and leaned forward to kiss your cheek. Your body leaned in to receive the sweet peck of his soft lips.

“Good morning, love, y’look ravishing” he sighed sweetly as he pulled back from your face. You rolled your eyes and scratched at your disheveled hair.

Moving your head in a circle around your neck, you laughed breathily at all of his sweet words, “I look a mess, but thanks, H.”

“You don’t,” he protested, sliding his hands around your shoulders and moving to lay on top of you on the bed.

You giggled and wriggled in the sheets as he began to pepper kisses along your face, neck and collarbones. “You’re absolutely stunning. Like always.”

The pair of you rolled around in the bed, exchanging kisses and caressing each other tenderly. Then you heard the rain and sat up.

“Har...is it still raining?”

He sighed and sat up with you, pushing his mused curls out of his face with one hand while his other was wrapped around your waist. “Sadly, yes. But we can still go out and explore. I know how excited you were to finally be back in Paris...”

Your head turned to rest in the crook of his neck, sighing softly, “It’s alright. I love the rain, can’t get me down.”

“Yeah, we can just take umbrellas and have fun with it.”

“No, no umbrellas. Want to run from awning to awning. Get stuck in the rain and be drenched. With you.”

Your lips had curved up into a smile as you spoke. Resting your head on Harry’s warm body, you imagined the day that the two of you were about to set off on. It wouldn’t be perfect and that would be okay. It was going to be what the two of you make of it therefore you wanted to make it magical. You sat up to meet Harry’s eyes as he cradled you in his arms. His face held a soft expression, one filled with love as he looked down at the woman he had grown to love more than anything. It wasn’t fleeting, it was constant. He loved you.

“Alright, let’s get goin’ then,” he laughed and shifted along the bed, sitting you up more. The hint of teasing in his voice was exciting and made you want to listen to him.

You pushed out of his arms and bounced up, your shirt sliding to cover the top bits of your thighs. “Alright!”

-

“Okay, maybe one umbrella would have been a good idea!” Laughing in disbelief, you duck beneath the awning of the cafe across the street from your hotel.

“It’s really coming down...but you said,” Harry grins down at you and swipes at a strand of your hair that was already drenched from the rain. You swat at his chest, his yellow knit sweater vest dry as he removes his large blue coat. “Hush.”

The cafe plays a love song in French and you hum along softly as you seat yourselves. Harry’s hand instinctively envelopes yours as your other free hands begin to leaf through the menu. His hand is warm and soft as it entangles itself with your own, which squeezes his in response to the brushing of his thumb over your skin. After placing your order, you watch the rain hitting the pavement and the light city traffic before you. Harry only has eyes for you, his gaze never leaving your figure. He takes you in, the way you’ve done your hair, the necklace you picked out - the one you always wear, the way you decided to wear no makeup since you planned on getting wet in the rain.

Bringing him out of his adoration, the waitress brings your drinks and he watches you say something sweet in french before he also says a ‘merci’. You sigh in contentment and shift in your seat after taking a sip of your espresso. Your eyes meet with Harry’s over the top of your small cup and you giggle at how extremely small the same cup looks in his hand. His dimples appear as he mirrors your expression. Then at the opening chords of the new song beginning to play, you perk up, immediately recognizing “Aline”, a clichely French song, but a favorite of yours nonetheless. You place your cup down and begin to sing along. Harry watches on, sipping his espresso and allowing you to swing your intertwined hands back and forth to the rhythm. You tip your head back and mock scream out the words, your french accent changing how your voice normally sounds.

“Is that a love song?” Harry asks at the finish of the song. He never bothered to learn French, despite having a couple of girlfriends who had been able to speak it.

You wet your lips, dried from singing, and shake your head slightly. “No, not really. It’s about heartbreak... Aline - the girl - is gone, I guess, and he’s drawn an image of her in the sand. But rain washes that away as well and now he’s twice as sad”

“That could still be considered a love song. He still loves her, right?”

“I guess.”

“Why do you like it so much?”

You hum, pondering the question, never thinking about what made her like the song so much to consider it a favorite. Harry stares intently, he loved talking to you about music. It was two of his favorite things put together.

“You won’t take ‘I just like shouting Aline’ will you?” Harry shakes his head, and you continue, “I guess I like it because it’s so tragic...and a little pathetic. Like, that sounds harsh, but this guy, he’s so in love with someone who’s already gone that he cries over her image washing away. He says he’s aching he’s so distraught and it’s just, it’s so relatable.” Harry stares at you, eyes soft, knowing you have more to say. Sitting so that your back is straight, you work to put your thoughts into words. “He’s calling out her name ‘Aline’ in hopes she will return to him and it’s just like you never want to feel that way in your entire life. But there are times that you do and you’re the pathetic guy crying over sand and watching it wash away into the ocean.”

“I will never make you feel like that, love,” Harry shifts your hands and brings them onto the table, leaning closer, a somewhat pleading look in his eyes.

“You never would on purpose, I know that. But that feeling it’s human insecurity, that’s the little fears I keep tucked away in the back of my mind, it’s how I’d feel if I ever lost you.”

“You’re never going to lose me,” he leans fully forward to bring his lips to yours. His lips easily brushed over yours, connecting perfectly as they always did. Your hand rescinds from his grasp and you place it on his chest, pushing him back slightly, “I know. Now enough with the mushy. Sights to be seen, clothes to be soaked!”

Laughing together, Harry settles the bill as you gather your things. You help Harry put his heavy coat back on after he finishes with the money, your lips pecking his as you fix the lapel. His lips curve into a smile against yours and his eyelashes flutter in excitement, never getting tired of the feeling of you.

-

You had finally arrived at the grass in front of the Eiffel Tower, where you had been meandering through the city to all day. Before you had arrived Harry and you had stopped in a chocolatier, a perfumerie, and another cafe - pair of you appreciated good coffee. Harry had begged to stop at a boulangerie to pick up bread, but you had insisted that you could stop at one on the way back to the hotel later, otherwise the bread would get all soggy. Eventually, Harry had agreed even though his argument was that he would eat it before it got soggy.

Running around with a canvas tote on your shoulder filled with the goodies you two had picked up was exciting and you spun around on the grass, your head tilted to the rain and your arms and bag flying out around you. Harry grabbed your waist and then slipped a hand up to cradle your wet hair. His hand carded through the tendrils and you tilted your face to look at him. His own wet chestnut hair flopped onto his forehead as he smiled down at you. You threw your arms up to hang on his shoulders. It was only you two out in the rain and you laughed as you watched a single droplet run the length of Harry’s nose. Craning your neck, you kissed the tip of his nose before it could fall.

“I love you,” Harry says only for you, completely unprompted.

“I love you, Harry,” you respond, lovingly.

“No, Y/N, I love you,” He repeats. Your wrists drop as your arms retract and your hands rest on his strong shoulders. You lean back slightly, confused. “I love you, I love you, I love you!” He starts to shout and picks you up by the waist, spinning you around in circles, slightly off the ground now.

“Harry!” You squeal, incredulous at his behavior. You loved it, but he wasn’t usually like this in public. Hand holding and short hugs, usually. Small pecks, at most. Shouting declarations of love, never - until now.

“Ok! I get it, lover boy,” You roll your eyes as he sets you down, placing kisses all over your rain soaked face. You tuck your head into your chest, feeling heat rise to your cheeks from his words and actions despite the cooling effect of the rain.

He smiles and leads the pair of you towards the Eiffel Tower. Halfway there he stops and snaps a few photos of you grinning, drenched in front of the site. Then you make him pose as well. He smiles for a few and then pretends to lean against it, which makes you roll your eyes again while you move to the perfect spot to make it look realistic.

You begin to move to head towards the tower again, but his hand snakes around your wrist, stopping you from moving. The rain was at a soft patter now, but you still were getting tired of being in it. Your brows raised expectantly at your boyfriend who was smiling adorably at you.

“Selfie.” He said simply.

“Harry...”

“C’mon. It’s romantic. Not like there’s anyone around to take it for us.”

You shrug and fold into his chest as he slips out his phone. His other hand slips around your waist, pulling you even closer. Your head rests on the upper part of his chest as one of your hands slips underneath his coat and the other goes to rest on his sternum. Your entire body is pressed against him, as he adjusts his phone trying to get both your faces in it along with a good portion of the Eiffel Tower. You both smile at your reflections that are beginning to smudge with raindrops and you ruffle your hair trying to look slightly disheveled after a few snaps. Then, Harry groans sadly, “These aren’t working.”

“I actually have an idea,” you say excitedly as the rain slows to a complete stop, “You okay with your phone possibly getting some water damage?” Harry nods, unsure, as you pluck the phone from his hands. You stroll a few feet away from Harry and pluck two of the boxes of chocolate out of your bag. Mumbling to yourself, you set up the boxes like a makeshift stand, “Please don’t get ruined, mes bonbons.” Then you swipe to the video choice in the phone’s camera and turn it on. You place it gently against the two boxes, so that the image contains Harry and the Eiffel Tower behind him. Then you race back to Harry, your sneakers splashing the puddles as you move.

“You’re brilliant!” He wraps his arms around your shoulders and sways you back and forth. “Smile at the camera, lover,” you pull from his strong grasp and wrap a single arm beneath his coat again, fingers pulling at the warm fabric of the sweater vest beneath it. He smiles down at you before turning his focus to the phone a little ways off. He tightens his arm around your shoulder and pulls you off your feet slightly, causing one of your legs to kick out slightly. This video is going to be so weird, you think to yourself and laugh as you straighten back up. You turn your face to Harry and scrunch it up at him. He smirks back at you and then leans down to kiss your cheek.

After you mess around a bit in front of the camera, forgetting for a minute that you're recording and having a small makeout session, you run back to your set up and gather your things. Harry comes with you this time and hugs your waist from behind you. He smiles at the camera one last time before you press the red button to end the video; the last clip being his face smiling brightly while you’re laughing breathlessly at him, both sets of eyes filled with love and joy.

-

There’s a restaurant inside the Eiffel Tower. It’s really beautiful and classy, perfectly French. Harry decides it’s the perfect place to have dinner, despite its upscale interior and your complete dishevelment from the rain and lack of preparedness in your outfit choices. As well as, the fact that it’s really early and the French don’t eat until much later in the evening so you’re the only ones there. Harry knocks on the door still and the pair of you are seated after he tells them who he is.

You comb lightly through your wet hair and you shuffle your vans together, uncomfortably. Harry, while dressed down still manages to look effortlessly chic, his trousers and yellow sweater vest with a striped dress shirt underneath is still passable as nice, especially if you ignore his own vans. In your haste you had dressed cute, but not necessarily upscale enough to where you felt like you fit in in that moment. Your wet hair wasn’t helping to calm your nerves as the well dressed waiters moved around you, placing things at your table. Your nervous hands smoothed over the plaid skirt and frumpy brown sweater you had beneath your navy trench coat that almost mirrored Harry’s only missing the colorful bobbles.

“Hey,” Harry notices your fidgeting and reaches out across the table, motioning you to place your hand in his outstretched one. You oblige reluctantly, shifting in your seat. Money has never been a problem for Harry since the pair of you began to date which wasn’t a bad thing. You had a job that allowed you to live a comfortable lifestyle, as well, just not quite to the extreme that Harry was able to. Normally, it didn’t bother you, but right now you felt very out of place, feeling unwelcome in Harry’s life. Harry can read exactly what you’re thinking as all these negative thoughts race through your mind. The odd sense of fear that the pair of you had talked about creeping in, the thought of losing him because you couldn’t keep up with his lifestyle. Like you had told him earlier, as well, you hope to never feel that way, but sometimes it’s there. And right now was one of those sometimes.

His finger traces the familiar pattern over the back of your hand as he holds it tight. “You deserve to be here just as much as the next person. You look lovely.” He smiles at you, trying to convey just how sincere he is being. You release a breath and try to relax at his words, knowing ultimately that he was right. He always knew exactly what to say and you smiled at him and whispered a small ‘thank you.’

-

“If I Fell” begins to play in the restaurant and John and Paul begin to serenade the empty room. The host had placed you in the furthest back room by the windows, allowing you and Harry to stare out at the city as you enjoyed the food and leaving you completely alone except for when the waiter would come and check in. The two of you had just finished the third course and were watching the clouds shift along the skyline.

Harry sighed contentedly and leaned back against his chair, straining his neck to the side, the tendon on his neck straining, causing your eyes to flicker up and watch the way he clenched and unclenched his strong jaw. You were in awe. “How did I get so lucky?” You say suddenly, your voice wistful, eyes a moment away from misty. Harry hums, jade eyes flitting back to your face, lips curving into a curious smile. “To be loved by someone like you, by you. How’d I get so lucky?”

Harry blushes at your words, the smile growing larger, overtaking his features. “Love, if I could list all the reasons I love you...God, we’d never leave this restaurant. Let’s just say I’m the one who’s lucky.” You pouted at his words, feeling cliche but also, totally and completely in love, so much so that you didn’t care about what you looked like as you stood up and leaned over the table, crashing your lips to Harry’s. He leaned up quickly to meet your lips over the small table. One of his hands flew to your soft cheek and held you close as your lips locked, tasting sweet from the champagne the two of you had been enjoying.

-

“Today was perfect, H.”

You glanced up to look at Harry’s face as he held you in his arms, walking slowly down the street. He walked slightly behind you as he braced himself around you, he couldn’t get enough of you, couldn’t touch enough, feel enough, breathe enough, where he would feel satisfied.

His eyes flitted down to meet yours, the jade of them sparkling under the cloudy sky save for the moon that had pushed its light through finally. “Yeah it was.”

Reaching the hotel, the two of you scampered up to your room and threw everything down the minute you got inside. The rain had mostly dried from your clothes, but you still couldn’t wait to take them off and get into something clean and warm.

“Do you want to shower?” Harry calls to you as he unpacks your bag, separating all of the items the pair of you had bought today - including the baguette he had finally gotten on your way home. Your head appeared from beneath your sweater as you pulled it from your body, leaving you standing in your bra and skirt.

“Together?” Your voice was calm since Harry and you occasionally showered together and were capable of keeping it tame, but there was a hint of excitement too after spending the whole day constantly within each other’s grasp.

“Sure, why not? Then we can get in bed and try the chocolates we bought today sooner,” he shrugs, making his way towards you, tossing a box of chocolates on the bed for later. He licks his lips and smirks down at you. “I like the way you think...but no funny business, lover boy,” you tease and run a finger down the center of his chest, only his dress shirt covering the toned body beneath. Your eyes have a glint of mischief in them as your words come out rather jokingly. “No promises,” he breathes before placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

In the bathroom now, Harry closes the door despite the lack of need for privacy. For some reason your heart is beating extremely fast, nerves springing forward at the urgent prospect of intimacy. Your heart always beats a little faster whenever Harry and you are together like this, but right now it’s going especially fast. The love you have for him, the passion, it’s never faded. Everytime is like the first time, maybe even better than the first time if you really think about it because now he knows you and you know him. It’s not about the novelty or the exploration, it’s about the adoration and the feeling each other’s touch ignites within you. So, right now, as the pair of you undress each other before you shower together, your heart is beating so fast because this isn’t lust or fleeting passion it’s eternal intimacy and deep devotion.

His fingers softly and nimbly release the clasp of your bra and then reach around to slip the straps down. It slides down your arms and falls to the ground and Harry watches you as you now move to undo the last few buttons of his shirt. You’re pressing close to him, feeling cold and slightly vulnerable despite being safe in Harry’s presence. The movements are tender, only the sound of your breathing and the rain that started up again bringing any noise to your interaction. Your hands flit down to the buttons on his trousers, your fingers shaking only slightly from the chill. Harry’s toned arms rise up to rub your upper arms, noticing your shivering as you undo the buttons and zipper. After his zipper is undone, you move your hands down to your side, where your own zipper is located, but Harry pushes your hands away, silently telling you he could do it. Sighing, you turn from him and turn the shower on, hoping that it will warm up quickly. Harry follows and presses up against you, his large arms encircling your frame, warming you instantly. He kisses the tip of your left shoulder tenderly and then rests his chin in the dip between your shoulder and neck. He breathes you in, taking in the moment, committing it to memory. Your hands rest over his gently and you feel yourself tilting your head back and basking in his embrace.

“We should probably get in,” Harry whispers after you had been standing there for far too long, simply holding each other. “Yeah,” you respond wistfully. Stepping in, you instantly place a kiss on Harry’s neck once he’s in. He looks at you questioningly, “I thought you said-” “I couldn’t help myself, you look like an angel.” He tucks his head at your words and then looks at you with love filled eyes, “Giving me a toothache with how sweet you are to me.”

He takes the bottle of shampoo the pair of you had brought and begins to massage it into your wet hair. You close your eyes in contentment at his actions, you loved how gentle Harry was and how he always insisted on washing your hair when you showered together. As he works on the hair you take the bar of soap and begin to rub it across his prominent pectorals, the suds show up and glisten across his tan skin. You smile to yourself as you pass over the two swallows and then travel down the center of his chest and bring the soap over the butterfly. Harry lets out a breathy laugh and you mutter, “Always so ticklish…” But you don’t mind. You rub some of the soap on your hands and then rub back over the same places on his body, spreading out the suds, while Harry moves to wash his own hair. This time your hands travel further down his body, your soapy fingers massaging Harry’s bare hips, rubbing soothing circles over the tense muscles from walking all day. Harry releases a heavy sigh, your movements releasing a pressure he hadn’t realized was there.

Your hands travel inwards and dance over his two fern tattoos causing Harry to shudder again. This time you say nothing, focussed on tracing the patterns and being so close to your lover. Finally, you remove your hands from his body and rinse them of the soap, grabbing a washcloth, you finish cleaning his arms, neck, and torso. Moving slowly, you drop the washcloth and Harry’s breath hitches, knowing what you’re intending to do. Harry starts, “You don’t-” but now his voice is completely caught in his throat when you put your hands on his length.

He’s already semi-hard, and it stiffens immediately in your embrace. He has to actively think about not getting hard whenever you’re naked around him, especially when you bathe together. He thinks you’re sexy, of course, but the intimate touches you share under the water is what really does it for him. However, he knows it’s not a sexual moment usually and doesn’t want to press himself upon you. Today, though, you want to take care of him. “Hush, I want to,” you say as you pump your hand languidly, blood rushing to his tip instantly. He groans as you stare deeply into his jade eyes. You were beautiful and wonderful to him. He didn’t know how he had found you, but he was happy that he had.

Then you slip down to your knees, legs folding perfectly as you continue to stare up at Harry. His eyes widen, realizing only now that you intended to use your mouth. One hand flies to your freshly cleaned hair and the other trails down the side of your face, taking in your beautiful face that is now in front of his hard member. Slowly, you bring your tongue to lick over the now angry red tip of his dick. Harry hisses as you open your mouth fully and begin to bring him completely inside. Your eyes never leave his as you descend until he hits the back of your throat. He’s big, really big, but after all this time you know how much you can take and you sit there for a moment. You let his weight rest in your mouth, he’s warm and you enjoy holding him this close.

Harry groans, “Please,” and you begin to move, seeing the strained look on his face.

Bobbing your head, you take him in and out of your mouth with ease, sometimes taking extra care over his head sucking specifically there. Your movements make Harry moan out and grasp at your hair, keeping it from your face as you work him over. His hips buck into your mouth the faster you take him in your mouth, but he tries to remain still, wanting you to be in control. One of your hands grasps his thigh, over his tiger tattoo, while the other runs over the parts of his dick you can’t take into your mouth. Harry is always vocal, but right now he’s at a loss for words. He feels so loved and cared for in that moment, it’s quick to his release. Your hand on his thigh feels him beginning to shake a bit more and his hips are stuttering more erratically.

He whines out, “I’m close,” and you pull back until your lips are only over his head.

Your tongue flattens over the slit of it and then swirls around it. You suction your lips around his head and suck hard, your hand pumping quickly, your eyes still never leaving Harry’s face. He had closed his eyes a while ago, but opens them up slightly right at his moment of release. He bucks his hips one last time as you moan around him at the feeling of him inside your mouth. His orgasm wracks through him and you continue to suck, trying to take up every last bit.

“Oh fuck,” Harry whimpers, chest heaving and head hanging low as he stares down at you.

The water is still running in the shower over your erotic image. You swallow and pull off of him, placing a gentle kiss to his head before standing up, whispering something inaudible to just Harry’s dick. Harry takes your hands in his and kisses you hungrily as you stand up. The taste of himself still on your lips. His arms are wrapped around your waist and one of his hands cups your ass cheek needily.

Against your lips, he growls, his voice deep and accent thick, “Let me take care of you now.”

You giggle and place your hands on his wet chest. “You don’t need to. I just really wanted to make you feel good.”

“But making you feel good will make me feel good, too,” He whines, pressing you into him more.

“Oh, I know,” you laugh, “But we’re really wasting water now and I want to try the chocolates we bought. You can make me feel good in our bed, this porcelain really isn’t the most comfortable.” You’re completely enjoying Harry’s eagerness to give to you after he had just received, but you were starting to prune from the water and wanted to lie in bed with fluffy robes with him.

He huffs but nods. He kisses your lips a final time and begins to climb out of the shower. “Fine, but I know none of those chocolates can possibly taste as good as what I really want for dessert.”

“You can have your dessert soon enough...Okay, lover boy?”

-

Wrapped up in Harry’s warm embrace, you fall asleep under the Parisian sky. His lips ghost over your collarbones as his head is tucked into you. You sigh in contentment as his hands draw a familiar pattern over your skin on top of your hip. Your mind flits over the moments of today and settles on this one right now. Harry wrapped around you, your legs entangled, warmth surrounding you. It’s peaceful. You’re blissed out from the chocolates and love Harry made to you.

Your eyes flutter open for a moment to look at Harry. His curls and the side of his face are all you can make out in the dim lit room, the moon’s light peaking through the sheer curtains. The slope of his nose is prominent, as well as the stubble beginning to grow on his jaw and cheek. His little moles decorating his otherwise smooth skin. He nuzzles further into you and you feel his stubble rubbing slightly against you, scratching lovingly onto your skin. It feels nice as your eyes close once again beginning to drift off to sleep. But you know no dream could possibly be better than the feeling you have right now, with Harry.

-

💛 love y’all (also I really didn’t proofread so like I maybe contradict some shit I say bc I wrote this over weeks lmao)

[bakugosbratx]

Hi love💜 Can I request a smutty dark Eren x reader???

NSFW 18+ Broken Pieces— Eren Jeager x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ Content. Everyone is age up and consenting. Smut, sexual encounters, cursing, degrading, some power play, unprotected sex, angst, etc.

Click here to see my other works

A/N: Thank you so much for your request. I hope it met your idea. I am only on season 3 of AOT so if anything seems uncanny I apologize. I hope you enjoy.

Words: 1,865

Loving Eren Jeager was not an easy task it seems. He is a soldier after all. You would await for him to arrive home after long missions with the military in hopes he will still be in one piece, but each time the soldiers marched back, the pit in your stomach grew with anticipation. Especially when Eren was nowhere to be seen.

“Captain Levi,” you huff, walking beside him as a row of soldiers follow him, “where the hell is Eren?”

“Hello to you too, brat.” Levi responds, not even looking down from on top of his horse. He is used to you doing this by now.

“With all due respect, sir, now is not the time for your smartass remarks. Where is Eren?” You snap, keeping a fast pace to keep up with the group. You and Levi have built an understanding over the years. He knows you are concerned about Eren and he cannot fault you for that.

“Eren decided he was going to play hero and injured himself in combat.” Levi sighed, mumbling “what an idiot” under his breath shortly after. You gasped, furrowing your eyebrows while glaring up at the Captain.

“Please tell me he isn’t dead..” You stammered.

“Like I would let Jeager die.” He scoffed. “He is in the wagon with Mikasa.”

“Okay, thank you, sir.” You nod, standing still so the line can keep moving. Once the wagon that is holding Eren came along, you hopped on. Your man laid on his back, Mikasa right by his side. You kneel on the other side of him.

“Please,” you softly whimper as you meet Mikasa’s emotionless eyes, “tell me he is alright.”

She nodded.

“He is in-and-out of consciousness, but he should be fine.” Mikasa reassured. You let out a sigh of relief.

Softly cupping his scratched up face, you release tears filled with stress, sadness, and even glee. “Oh, Eren. Whatever will I do with you?” You chuckled, softly.

You sat beside Eren’s bedside all evening. Mikasa kept you company. You and her have grown close over the years. She can see how much you truly love and care for Eren which he needs. This does relieve some stress off of her when she cannot be around to protect or scold him from acting on impulse.

Silence filled the room as you both stared at bandaged up Eren. The doctor said he does have a concussion, but should be alright. This calmed both of you.

“How do you do it?” Mikasa finally asks after more minutes pass. You raise an eyebrow, gazing in her direction. She refuses to meet your orbs.

“What do you mean?”

“How do you still willingly love Eren?” She rephrased, her hands finding refuge in her red scarf Eren gave her years ago. You are aware of their history, but your brain cannot seem to compute her question.

“I’m not understanding—“

“Eren is not,” she paused to find the right word, “normal. He comes with a lot of risk. He is a loose cannon. He will more than likely die in battle from his impulsive nature. Why put yourself through that?”

You hesitate to answer. Mikasa is not wrong, unfortunately. Everyday is a worry when it comes to Eren’s wellbeing along with your own. You will never dream of stopping Eren from chasing his aspirations. That wouldn’t be right, but you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t wish he was not a military man. He would be home every night with you. So many lonely evenings and deafening sobs.

“I don’t know,” You spoke honestly. Mikasa finally looked at you. “Eren is worth the risk.”

Before Mikasa could pester you any further, Eren stirred in his slumber. His eyes soon awaken and gaze over at you two. You and Mikasa let out a small gasp.

“Eren..” is said in unison by you both.

“Where,” he swallows and places a hand on his forehead, “where am I?”

“You are in recovery. You injured yourself in battle.” You explained to your significant other. Eren nods and starts to sit up, but Mikasa pushes him back down.

“You need to rest.” Mikasa scolds.

“So do you.” Eren argued.

“He’s not wrong, Mikasa.” You concur, placing your hand on her shoulder. “Go rest. I got Eren.”

Usually, Mikasa would protest, but she is exhausted. Her aching body is craving sleep. She also knows that Eren will be in good hands with you around. So, she let out a small sigh and headed out the door. You and Eren are now completely alone.

“You need to rest too, y’know?” Eren states.

“Hard to rest when you are getting injured all of the time.” You countered. Eren rolled his eyes in response.

“You knew this going in, Y/N. It’s my job to keep you safe.“

“You can only keep me safe if you stay alive, Eren.” You snap.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

You looked at your twiddling thumbs, not meeting his intense gaze. You did not want him to see the tears in your eyes. What use would it do? Eren will always choose the army over you. That’s just the facts. You know this is his life purpose. You cannot stand in the way of that.

“Barely.” You finally utter out, still not looking at the man before you. Eren’s breath turns noticeably shaken.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Y/N?” He interrogated, his voice not coming out as tough as he would appreciate.

“We can discuss things a different time, Eren.” You stand up from your chair and start heading towards the door as tears fall. “You need rest.”

Your hand goes to turn the door knob, but Eren’s is quick to land on-top of yours. You spin around to face your significant other.

“Eren, what the—“ Your question was cut off by Eren’s hunger filled lips. His hands cup your face as all his passion is poured into your dry mouth. You missed these kinds of kisses. You missed the drive this man used to overflow you with. He is making up for it now.

Eren slowly pulls away, keeping his lips inches close to yours as he still holds your face. “Don’t you dare leave me.”He dominantly whispers.

“Like I would.” You mutter out.

A small smile appears on Eren’s face before he proceeds to kiss you. Only this time he forces you against the door. One hand finds their way to your breast while the other still holds your face. His index and middle finger ever so gently play with your nipple as the palm of his hand squeezes your areola. He’s torturing you at this point, but who are you to protest? You missed Eren. You missed his not-so-gentle touch and his way of words.

You missed him.

Eren’s lips left yours to suck and nibble on your earlobe. Soft moans escaped your mouth as you begged for more.

“Better be quiet, princess. Don’t want anyone to hear you.” He scornfully chuckled into your ear.

“I don’t care if anyone hears me. Just fuck me, Eren.” You breathe out. Your sexual drive could not be contained anymore. You need Eren in more ways than one.

Your lips never disconnected as you made your way towards the bed, both of your clothes being discarded within the process. You laid on your back as Eren climbed on top. Your lips finally disconnected. The moonlight lit up the dark room through the window. It laid perfectly on Eren’s features. His muscular form hovered over your naked body. One hand trailed every line of his abs while you moved some of his long brown hair out of his beautiful face.

“This isn’t resting.” You scold, playfully. He rolls his eyes with a smirk.

“Shut up and just take my cock, will ya?”

You both snicker at his remark and begin kissing again. There will never be enough make out sessions to fix what is broken, but it is sure one hell of a start. The skin on skin contact is well perceived. You both just can’t seem to get enough of each other.

Eren pulls away to sit up. He pushes your knees towards your breast, revealing more of your begging cunt. You keep your legs in place with your arms as he aligns his cock with your entrance. You’re already dripping from the anticipation. It has been far too long since you two had sexual intercourse.

“Already a soaking mess, huh?” Eren teases. You did not even have time to make a remark back as his length enters your soaked pussy. Immediate moans escaped your lips as he thrust himself in-and-out. Your tight walls hug his girth and length perfectly.

“God damn, you’re still so fucking tight, babe.” Eren groans as he continues diving every single inch into you. “I need to fuck you more often.”

“Eren—“ You cry. His hips keep colliding with your exposed ass as he hits all the right spots. His hand finds a way to your throat, choking you as he wrecks your precious pussy. Your legs eventually wrap around his waist to keep him from leaving you for too long. His other hand gives occasional hard slaps to your outer thigh. All you can do is moan in pleasure.

Your walls clenched around Eren’s member. His smug smirk grew wider as he felt your cunt’s walls beg him not to leave you hollow for the tiniest of seconds. His blue orbs meet yours.

“HA! Such a cock hungry slut. Already wanna cum again.” Eren cheekily remarks. You feel flustered, but you cannot help that your body betrays you.

“Please let me cum, Eren.” You begged. He always did love playing dominant in the bedroom. He finally let go of your throat so you can provide oxygen to your lungs. His rhythm increased to a higher speed, almost making it impossible to wait for permission.

“Have to beg better than that.”

Tears prickled in your eyes. He really was not going to let you just have this. Your pussy was not going to last much longer. If you want him to continue providing you dick tonight, you need to give this your all and make it count.

“Please Eren. Please let me cum. I’m begging you. I’m,” you gasp as you almost lose control, “not going to last much longer.”

Eren waited a moment to answer. He loved seeing you in agony because of his cock. Feeling your cunt not being able to last much longer as well as him, he nods. “Go ‘head and cum.”

He hardly could get the words out as your pussy released on to Eren. He was sure to follow shortly after as the veins in his member twitch. Cum flowed from the head of his dick into the depths of your cunt. You whimper softly as he milks every drop into you.

He lays next to you once he’s done, holding you close. You both pant, sweat droplets formed at the top of your foreheads. The room was musky, but still. For right now, everything is alright until he leaves once again.

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[flourgirl]

Even If It’s a Lie

Part I to “Even If It’s a Lie”

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter drags you to one of his frat parties, and you realize something you should have a long time ago.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: SO much angst, and lots of pining from Y/N. A couple swear words here and there.

A/N: I liked writing the first one so much that I couldn’t stop when it came to this one! Enjoy :-)

“This is the last time I'm asking you this Put my name at the top of your list This is the last time I'm asking you why You break my heart in the blink of an eye” -The Last Time, Taylor Swift

“Pete, I don’t know about this…” you said, looking yourself up and down in the mirror. You looked like a completely different person in the short burgundy dress that MJ had picked for you. The shiny satin contrasted with your dirty, white sneakers that hadn’t seen the light of day since you played tennis in the 9th grade.

“Trust me,” MJ had said when she was choosing your outfit earlier that day, “You don’t wanna wear any shoes that you actually like to a frat.”

“Why can’t you go with him again?” you whined, wishing Peter had somebody, anybody else, to accompany him to his “induction ceremony” into Sig Ep. 

“I don’t think I’m what any of those frat guys meant when they said ‘Bring a hot girl’. Plus, you were Peter’s first choice,” MJ replied, nonchalantly biting her nails as you held the dress up to yourself. “That’s the one.”

“I’m not hot,” you sighed as you started to hang the many rejected dresses spread across your floor back onto the rack. “I wore a sweater with a cat on it yesterday. That I hand-knitted.”

“Well... you’re cute. And that’s good enough. Plus, you can keep Parker from getting plastered. You know he’s a lightweight,” MJ laughed, reminding you of the many times Peter had called you to pick him up from a late night of partying.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you sighed, still worried about the fact that you did not like parties. Or strangers, or crowds, or really anything that involved socializing with more than four people at a time. Peter had been the same way all throughout high school. That’s what made you guys so close, but... things hadn’t been the same since you started college.

Peter ran from the other room, smoothing the wrinkles out of the gray t-shirt that fit him just right. You saw him grin from behind you in the mirror’s reflection, and he placed his hands on his shoulders, jostling you lightly.

“Y/N! Are you excited! It’s your first college party!” he exclaimed, spinning you around to look him in the eyes. You stared down at your feet, self conscious over how short you felt in your sneakers next to him.

“That’s not true. I’ve been to parties before! Ned’s birthday was just last month,” you reminded him. “Don’t you remember how you watched me bake a cake from scratch and your only ‘contribution’ was eating the buttercream?”

Peter laughed, ruffling your hair like you were his little brother. “No, Y/N, I meant a real party. With booze and music that’s so loud that you can’t hear what someone is saying. That kind of party.” 

Your brows furrowed as you began to fully accept that Peter had changed. So, so much. He wasn’t the dorky kid from Queens that carried your books and watched your favorite animated movies with you just because anymore. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

It didn’t take his spidey-senses for Peter to realize how upset he had made you. “Y/N, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it like that. I just want you to experience everything college has to offer.”

“I think you do that enough for both of us,” you muttered, plopping dramatically onto the couch. Peter followed you, running his fingers gently across your arm as you pouted into a throw pillow. “Couldn’t you have asked any other girl to participate in your frat’s misogynistic tradition?”

“I didn’t want to ask anybody else,” Peter replied. You sat up to look at him, fixing your hair and smoothing out your dress. “I promise, Y/N. I miss you. We never hang out like we used to.”

You rolled your eyes. “And whose fault is that? You’re always—”

“—it’s mine. I know that. So, just come with me tonight and let me make it up to you,” he pleaded, pulling out his signature puppy dog eyes that you could never say no to. “Come on. All you have to do is say the word and we can leave, okay?”

“Okay.”

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

Your nerves worsened the closer you got to the frat houses, not mentally prepared for how loud the music would be or all of the sweaty bodies that would inevitably be pressed against you on the dance floor.

As you approached Sig Ep, Peter gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. He looked deep into your eyes, “Y/N. I meant what I said. All you have to do is tell me that you’re ready to go and we’ll leave.”

“You promise?” you asked, chewing on your lip.

“Promise,” Peter smiled, holding out his pinky to intertwine with yours.

Some tall, buff guy was standing at the doorway and greeted Peter with a fist bump. “Hey, Parker! Good work with the dime! She got a boyfriend?” You recoiled at his attitude towards you. It was as if you weren’t even there.

“Nah, Ryan. She’s off limits.” Peter replied coolly, pulling you inside.

You heard Ryan wolf-whistle from his post, causing you to roll your eyes. “Hell yeah! Didn’t know little Petey had it in him!”

Peter wrapped his arm around you, partly to make you feel better, but also because there wasn’t much space for you two to squeeze your way into the kitchen. “Just ignore him,” he said, handing you a red plastic cup, a bottle of Sprite, and a shot glass of vodka. 

You peered up at him, unsure. You weren’t much of a drinker, but maybe, just maybe, it would help you ease up on your nerves. Swirling the liquids together into the cup, you downed it before recoiling from the burn. Cheap vodka sucked, you remembered.

“That’s my girl!” you barely heard Peter say from right next to you, feeling him patting your back before he did two shots himself, swallowing them as if they were water. “Come on, I have some people who’ve been dying to meet you.”

The butterflies in your stomach were going crazy. He had called you his girl. You gripped his hand tightly as he led you down the hallway and onto the back patio, where a group of people sat crowded around a bonfire. 

A girl with bleach blonde hair and a dark green dress that hugged her figure came running up to the two of you, practically jumping into Peter’s arms as she greeted him. “Peter! I’ve been waiting for you. Come on, you can sit next to me.” 

She pulled Peter towards the bonfire, patting the empty spot on one of the benches next to her. Peter turned to nod at you, gesturing for you to follow them. Once again, it felt like you were invisible to almost everybody at this party.

The blonde girl leaned close to Peter’s face, giggling with an obvious drunkenness. “So, who’s your little friend?” she asked, waving her fingers towards you like you were some kind of pet.

“This is Y/N, my best friend.” Friend. That’s all you’d ever be to him, especially when there were girls like her around.

“Hi, Y/N! I’m Gwen. Gwen Stacy. Peter and I met in our thermodynamics class last semester,” she smiled, showing off her perfectly white teeth. “You should’ve seen him! He made everything look so easy.” You already knew that. Peter could do anything he set his mind to.

“Yeah...” you mumbled, refusing to make eye contact with her bright, gray eyes, which matched Peter’s shirt. “So, uh, who are you here with?”

“Oh, duh!,” she said before tapping the guy on her left’s shoulder, pulling him out of the conversation he was having with the people next to him. “This is Harry Osborn. We go way back. Harry, this is, uh…”

“Y/N,” you reminded her.

“Right! Y/N. She’s Peter’s friend,” Gwen told him. He nodded his head and offered a small wave before returning to his conversation. Of course, you thought to yourself. Peter had only asked you to come with him tonight because she was unavailable.

You stared back down at your stupid shoes as Peter and Gwen talked about titrations and bond solutions. Things that you knew nothing about. Was this why Peter was always out at parties? To see her? 

You thought about Peter’s promise. Just tell him, you thought. Tell him you want to leave. But you knew that you wouldn’t. You knew that you couldn’t ruin Peter’s fun just because you decided to be a baby and get scared after just thirty minutes into your very first frat party.

Looking back up at Peter and Gwen, who now had her arms draped around his neck, you excused yourself to the restroom, wherever that was. You just needed a break. Peter nodded towards you before turning back to smile at Gwen.

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

A banging on the bathroom door startled you. “Hey, uh, could you, like, HURRY UP? I have to take a piss,” a boy yelled from the other side. You got up from the edge of the bathtub that you had been sulking on for the past five minutes to open the door.

“Oh. Sorry, Y/N. Didn’t know it was you.” It was Flash Thompson. Flash, the guy who had made Peter’s life a living hell in high school. “God, you look good. Hey, how’s about you waiting out here for me and we could, you know, catch up?” He winked at you and you wanted to throw up.

Your first instinct was to say no. How could you give Peter’s bully the time of day? But you thought about Peter and Gwen. Gwen. Gorgeous and smart and better than you in every possible way, who was probably sitting in Peter’s lap by now and running her fingers through his hair. Your heartbeat quickened as rage rushed through your body. You wanted to hurt Peter, like he had hurt you. “Yes,” you replied, before he slammed the bathroom door in your face.

One minute later, you were pulling Flash down the stairs and towards the backyard. “You washed your hands, right?” you asked, desperately hoping that the answer would be yes.

“Don’t worry, babe. I just peed. Everyone knows that as long as you don’t get it on your hands you’re all good,” he mused. “You use less water that way, too. Save the planet, am I right?”

You dropped his hand, mentally rolling your eyes, and continued trudging towards the bonfire. You watched as Peter turned to smile at your reappearance, which swiftly dropped once he saw who you were with. It seemed like Gwen had backed off when you were gone too. Was this some kind of weird, territorial act that she was putting on to prove that Peter liked her and not you?

Maybe you were overthinking, but it was too late to backtrack. You sat back down on your place next to Peter, the awkwardness thick in the air. Flash had decided to squeeze himself between the two of you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

Peter leaned forward and shot you a dirty look, which you immediately recognized as his “What the fuck, Y/N?” face. 

A familiar voice boomed from behind, and you turned around to find Ryan had finally tapped out of bouncer duty to join the festivities. “Who’s ready for Truth or Dare!”

Shit. You hated truth or dare. Peter knew that. Ever since you had been dared to kiss Tyler Rosado in the 7th grade and he laughed right in your face before flat out rejecting you, the game had become a sore spot.

But you looked at Peter, who was cheering alongside the rest of the group, excited as ever to participate in the game that you swore you’d never play again. He doesn’t care, you thought to yourself, not like he used to.

You felt a vibration from your pocket and scrambled to pull your phone out of your jacket. Well, Peter’s jacket. The one he had let you wear on the way here because you were cold. It was a text from MJ. 

“How’s everything going?”

“Not good”, you replied, adding multiple sad face emojis at the end of your message.

“What did that idiot do this time?,” she asked. It was like you could hear her “I’m so going to beat Peter up for this” voice through the screen.

“I’ll tell you when I get back,” you sent, before locking your phone and sliding it back into the jacket pocket.

“Alright, alright, alright. So, who’s up first?” You heard Ryan ask, remembering the terrible event that was taking place right before you. “Hey! Gwen, how about you do us the honors?”

“Of course!” she chirped back. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“I know you are,” Ryan laughed, causing the crowd of people to whoop and holler around you. “So, truth or dare.”

“Definitely dare,” she slurred, taking another sip from her beer.

“Who’s got a dare for pretty, little Gwen here? Anybody?” Ryan asked, looking around the backyard.

Flash raised his hand. Fuck. Why did you think that it would be a good decision in any way, shape, or form to bring him with you? 

“Gwen, I dare you to make out with the hottest guy here!” he giggled, obviously thinking that she’d pick him. What a dumbass.

She smirked, before turning to Peter. “Gladly,” she said as she moved to press her lips against his. You struggled to watch as they made out right next to you, much to both you and Flash’s dismay. It felt like it had been going on for forever when they finally stopped sucking each other’s faces and the crowd’s cheers died down.

That was it. That was the last straw. You got up from where you were sitting and headed back towards the front door, having had enough of frat parties for the rest of your miserable life. Peter probably wouldn’t even notice that you were gone.

You felt hot tears fall down your cheeks as you stumbled out onto the sidewalk, calling MJ as fast as you could. “Could you come get me,” you managed to choke out. “This—this was a mistake. Please, just come get me.”

MJ asked for your address and let you know that she’d be by in a couple of minutes. You plopped onto the front steps, emotionally and physically exhausted from all that Peter had put you through tonight. 

A few minutes later, MJ’s car pulled up in front of Sig Ep, and she ran out to hug you, gently rubbing your back to get you to stop crying. “Where is he?,” she asked angrily, glaring towards the frat house. 

You pulled her back, sniffling at her, “Don’t. I just want to go home.”

“Fine. I’ll deal with him later,” MJ said, before the two of you got into her car and drove back to the apartment that you shared. Upbeat pop music played on the stereo, which you promptly shut off, preferring to mope with your head on the windowsill, staring out at the cloudy night sky.

MJ unlocked the front door, and you were greeted by Ned and Betty sitting on the living room floor around a Monopoly board. Betty was obviously winning, and Ned was almost bankrupt. 

“Y/N!” Betty squealed, getting up off the rug to hug you. “Oh my god, what happened?”

“It was Peter,” MJ muttered, shooting daggers at Ned.

“What!? I can’t control him,” Ned tried to reason. “Y/N, on behalf of my idiot roommate, I’m sorry for whatever he did this time.”

“It’s okay, guys. I just really want to go to bed, okay?” you told them, heading towards your bedroom.

You kicked off your sneakers and threw Peter’s stupid jacket, which smelled just like him, onto the chair in the corner, plunking yourself face first into the mattress. Ned, Betty, and MJ stood in your doorway, watching the entire thing.

“Yeah… I don’t think she’s okay,” Ned whispered, loud enough for you to hear.

Betty hit him on the head. “Ow!,” Ned replied, rubbing his temple from where she had flicked him.

“Will you all just shut up and leave me alone!?,” you screamed, startling your friends.

“Yeah, of course. Just tell us if you need anything, Y/N. We’ll be right outside,” MJ reassured you, before shutting your door behind her.

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

You woke up the next morning to the smell of blueberry pancakes and maple syrup wafting throughout the apartment. Dragging yourself to the bathroom, you wiped away the leftover makeup from last night and brushed your teeth, ready to forget about everything that had gone wrong yesterday.

“Good morning, Y/N!” Betty sang from the stove, placing yet another pancake onto the already towering pile before sliding the plate in front of you. “They’re for you. Blueberry, with a little bit of cinnamon, just like how you like ‘em!”

You managed to give her a weak smile, before digging into the breakfast she had so lovingly prepared for you. “Where’s MJ,” you asked, knowing that she would never still be asleep past 7 a.m.

“I’m not supposed to tell you…” Betty answered, obviously trying to deflect from wherever their roommate was. “Apple or orange juice?”

“Apple,” you replied. “No, seriously, Betty. Where is she?”

Betty placed the glass next to your plate of pancakes. A heavy silence hung all throughout the kitchen as you realized the only place that MJ could be right now. She was going to kill Peter.

“Oh my god!” you screamed, scrambling to pull your shoes on and running out the door. Betty mentally cursed herself out for not being able to keep a secret, chasing after you down the stairwell.

“Y/N! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop! Please, MJ is just looking out for you!,” she panted from several stories ahead. Betty had no idea when you had gotten so fast.

“Don’t care! He’s my best friend!” you yelled back, before rushing out onto the sidewalk and running across campus towards Peter and Ned’s dorm room. You hated how much you still cared about Peter after all this time. You hated how much you loved him.

As soon as you reached their door, you frantically knocked on it until Ned opened up. “Oh, Y/N, you’re not supposed to be here. Hey, wait—”

You didn’t let him finish his sentence, squeezing your way past him and into their common room. There, MJ and Peter sat playing a game of chess. Until MJ transferred to your school, nobody had ever been able to beat Peter in chess. You scanned the board as they became aware of your presence, and felt a sense of pride seeing that MJ had his pieces tied up to ensure that she’d have a checkmate in five. He’d either have to resign or let her pick off his queen, two knights, and rook one by one.

“Oh,” you sighed with relief, seeing that Peter was still alive. Everyone in the room was staring at you, waiting to see what you had to say. 

“Well. I’m going to head home. See you later, MJ. Bye!” You turned on your heels and headed towards the door, where Ned was standing with his jaw on the floor.

Peter scrambled to his feet as he caught up with you, grabbing your arm and spinning you around just as he had done yesterday. “Y/N. Let me explain,” he whispered softly, like there was nobody else in the room. Curse those damn puppy dog eyes. You were better than this. You needed to stick up for yourself.

“Goodbye, Peter,” you said, before breaking free of his grasp and walking out the door, doing your best not to cry in front of everybody.

He started to follow you before MJ pulled him back, uttering a simple “Don’t.”

Walking back to your apartment, you realized that you had been right all along. Peter had changed, and nothing was ever going to be the same between the two of you.

[zombryz]

★ needy ★ a Frieza story

This is based on a request I got from an Anon - “ Do you think you can do a Frieza X Reader where Frieza feels more comfortable about being around the reader so much that he gets a bit clingy towards the reader?“

This will be a multi-part series. Oh how I do love Lord Frieza  ♡

TW - mentions of anxiety, kidnapping

“Yo!” You hear a familiar voice from behind you. You spin on your heel to find none other than the tall and hunky saiyan himself, Goku. 

“Hi Goku! How are you?” You smiled sweetly at him. He’s been your friend for quite some time now and you’ve gotten used to having him around. His face always lights up when he sees you, as you have a way with people, in this case saiyans. Both him and Vegeta had a soft spot for you and they never really understood why. They eventually just gave in and would do whatever you asked of them, being completely wrapped around your finger.

“I’m great! You ready to do this?” He smirked, making a hmph noise before cracking his knuckles and furrowing his eyebrows downward showing that he meant business. You had invited him over today because you were moving into capsule Corp. He was in charge of moving all your big, heavy furniture. Bulma requested you move in a few months ago but after the whole ‘Beerus almost destroying the world’ thing you decided it might be a good idea to go ahead and finally move in. That way you would always be kept in the loop. You were Bulma’s best friend and you were always babysitting the boys anyways so why not just move in? 

“Where do you want this?” Goku questioned holding your whole couch under one arm.

“Um, you can just put it in the loft! Thanks, Goku!” You replied with a kind smile causing his cheeks to turn rosy. You knew that he would do anything for you so you decided to return the favor by always being sweet to him. Everyone around here always called him an idiot and you didn’t feel that he was deserving of that. 

He had moved everything into your apartment so quickly without even breaking a sweat. Goku walked back down the stairs dusting off his hands as if it was the easiest task the saiyan has ever had to do. You were so thankful to have him in your life. 

“Gosh, thanks Goku. What would I do without you?” You reached up to ruffle his hair causing him to chuckle while he scratched the back of his neck.

“Don’t mention it! I’ll see you at dinner then?” He waved goodbye and took off using instant transmission. You were so excited to have a new place within Capsule Corp. Now if you needed Bulma, you could just walk down the hall instead of having to call her up. You sat on your couch and decided to get a nap in before dinner that evening. 

Later that evening, everyone gathered for dinner on the rooftop of Capsule Corp. It was honestly quite cute to have everyone sit together like a big family. You sat with Lord Beerus and Whis to your right and Trunks and Goten to your left. Lord Beerus also took a liking to you, which you figured it couldn’t hurt to have a destroyer on your side. He took the time to actually learn your name which didn’t seem to be a regular occurrence with him and mortals. After dinner you were playing hide and seek with Trunks and Goten, they always outsmarted you by flying or fusing together. You told them that if you were going to play, flying or fusing was against the rules. They weren't too excited about this but they would go along with it because they were always happy to just be playing with you. You were their favorite. 

After a tiresome game of hide and seek and finding the boys stuck in a tree you decided to head back to get some sleep. You yawned walking back inside Capsule Corp, that's when you ran into Bulma roaming the halls. She looked a teensy bit nervous and you felt the need to ask her what was wrong. 

“Everything ok Bulms?” You approached her slowly placing a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to calm her down a bit without spooking her.

“Oh! Hey, Y/N. Y-Yeah, I’ll be okay.” Her words came off a bit on edge and you couldn’t help but think she was trying to withhold information.

“You sure? You don’t seem okay, you seem a bit anxious..” 

“O-okay fine, you got me.” She shakily put her hands up in surrender and you finally let go of her shoulder to cross your arms together. You raised your brow curious to what she was going to say next. “Both Goku and Vegeta left. They went to train with Whis on Beerus' planet..” she paused. You felt as though there was something else she was leaving out. Your brow remained raised, unsure of where this was going. “….we have no way of staying in contact with them, I-I feel a little… unprotected I guess.” she shrugged as if saying it aloud sounded silly. Your eyes widened. A skip in your heart, earth’s greatest protectors - gone? What does this mean? Is there even a threat to earth? Is there going to be a threat? Your head spun a bit when you realized Bulma was still staring at you, she clearly needed comfort from her friend and not a freak out session. 

“Come here Bulms, it’s going to be okay” you grabbed one of her arms and pulled her into a tight embrace. “We still have Piccolo and Gohan with us. Oh! And the boys. We’ll be fine if anything happens we’ll just call up Tien and 18.” You unconfidently replied, breaking off the hug you held her shoulders in place so that she could see your trying sincere smile. Her anxiety seemed to knock down a few clicks as you helped calm her down.

“You’re right, It’s going to be okay.” She inhaled and exhaled loudly calming her nerves, “Thanks Y/N. Well, I guess I’ll try to get some sleep now. If you need anything please don’t hesitate to come get me, after all I’m only down the hall now!” She winked as she removed your hands from her shoulders and gave you a swift smile and wave before turning back down the hall towards her place. Finally, you can go back to your new apartment and relax. It had been a long day. 

You unlocked the door to your apartment and your living room was pitch black, the only light was emitting from your loft porch. Humming to yourself you walk around your dark room looking for the light switch, it was your first night in your new place and you cursed yourself for not knowing the layout of the room before it had gotten dark. You shuffled around reaching both arms out to feel around the walls for the light switch. At this point you were becoming annoyed, “Ugh” you grunted out loud. You pause for a moment to take a breather and that's when you see them. A pair of what looked like glowing red eyes in the far corner of your living room, they were locked on you and looked like they were coming from behind a lamp that Goku had placed there earlier in the day. You hesitate to scream, figuring maybe it was just an outlet or maybe the boys playing a prank on you. They started to move as if whomever they belonged to began standing up at their full height. That's when you started shaking and you could feel your palms becoming clammy with fear. Whatever it was was charging a ball of energy, the color matching their terrifying eyes. Now would be a good time to scream you thought to yourself, but you were frozen like a deer in headlights. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

Finally, you let out a gut wrenching scream hoping Goku or Vegeta would barge in and save you from whoever let themselves in your apartment. The being disappears from in front of you, in a frenzy you panic and look around not sure where it went. 

“Ah, ah, ah puny earthling.” The unknown creature was now behind you and clapped its large scaly hand over your mouth forcing no more noise out of you. “We don’t want the big bad monkey’s to know that I am here.” It tsked. You were stuck. Trying to calm your breathing you gave in, there was no way you could fight it off. Okay, what now? Still shaking you bring your arms down to your sides not realizing you grasped the hand that was placed tightly over your mouth. “Try that again and I will not hesitate to eliminate you right where you stand, under any normal circumstances you would already be dead at my hands, but unfortunately for the both of us,” a pause, almost as if it was annoyed to say the next part, “I need you to stay alive… for now.”

An understanding, you nodded your head in acceptance and it freed your mouth. All of a sudden the lights came on, blinding you. You covered your eyes trying to get the burn to go away when you finally opened them and saw it, well him? For a lizard man, he was oddly beautiful. He stood taller than you and had ivory skin with amethyst like crystal domes on his head, shoulders, and chest. His figure was rather slender but muscular. Flicking behind him was a long, ivory tail to match. It appeared to be made of pure muscle. He stood with one foot in front of the other showing off his three toed limbs. Wow. You had seen alien creatures before but never one quite like this. 

“Okay, what do you need me to do?” you cleared your throat and pulled at your shirt, fixing your appearance unconsciously.

“Rather compliant aren’t we?” he questioned while letting his head hang low, twisting his mouth to form a menacing and twisted smirk. “I will spare you the mechanics of my grand plan,” He raised his head to look you in the eyes while he spoke, “I have been watching you for quite some time, human.” This caused you to raise your brow in curiosity. Why was he watching you? “The monkeys left, and you see.. That will just not do, will it?” he started playing with his nails as if this conversation was boring him. 

You decided it was best for you not speak unless he asked you to and so he continued on.

“For now, you will be my hostage. My pawn, if you will. I need those infuriating baboons to come back to earth, I will not continue chasing them around the galaxy just to get my revenge.” He clutched his hand into a fist, anger seething through his teeth.

It finally clicked, standing only a few feet away was the ruthless and power hungry emperor, Lord Frieza. You swallowed your fear, not sure how you got here or why but you weren’t going to fight back in any way risking him to deem you no longer worthy to be in his presence. Goku and Vegeta have told you war stories about him. How did he come back? A single tear began rolling down your cheek causing you to sniffle quietly. Frieza must’ve noticed because he reached out and grabbed your face almost crushing your jaw with the action.

“Oh, do not grow worried little one. I will not hurt you…” a beat. “Today.” He chuckled evilly releasing your face. Great, you remembered Bulma telling you that there would be no contact with Goku or Vegeta. How long would you be Frieza’s prisoner? A panic sweeping over you, your head spinning and just like that your world went dark. You were knocked unconscious, Frieza had forced you to sleep. 

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

“Mom! Mom, wake up!” 

Bulma wiped the sleep away from her eyes. She sat up, yawning not sure if what was happening was a dream or not. Finally, fully awake, her eyes focus on Trunks who is hovering over her in a panic.

“It’s Y/N! I heard her scream, I went to check on her and her door was cracked open and there was no sign of her!” The worry in his voice caused Bulma to jump out of bed. 

“Trunks, I need you to go get Piccolo and the others. I am afraid something bad is happening.” Bulma tried her best to hide the worry in her voice.

Trunks left and Bulma started pacing her dark room, she had an itch of who might be involved. “Frieza.” she said to herself sternly, slamming her fist into her other hand. She thought to herself, how the hell am I going to get a hold of Goku and Vegeta?

[magalidragon]

Okay drabble #2 for @lalacristina18 ‘s ask! Hope you like this one! It’s a little silly and kind of Fixer Upper Fanfiction ( @nlights37 is that a thing? I’m doing it) meets my drabble “wet paint.”

Enjoy!

haunted house | 30. “You better watch yourself”

It was the dumbest thing she had ever done.

Except she felt like she had to do it.

How else was she going to get the cute handyman to ask her out?

"Just ask him out!" her best friend shouted, as she took a crowbar to the siding on her house, prying up the nails. Missandei was used to most of her antics, but she knew this was going too far. She watched, amazed, slightly terrified, and in awe, muttering, "You have gone mental Daenerys."

Maybe she had gone mental, but she was also put off by how attractive the handyman was. He was incredibly sweet. A little goofy; he apologized one day when he showed up in thick black glasses, saying he'd forgotten to put his contacts in before he left the house. She had wondered why someone would apologize for that, but she soon learned that Jon Snow, Handyman Extraordinaire, apologized for quite a few things that were in no way his fault or under his control.

Like when he couldn't get a part in time to fix her hot water tank, because it was a weekend and the store was closed. "No problem, guess I'll see you Monday," she had simply said with a smile and a cheerful glee, because she knew they were closed on the weekend and he'd have to come back Monday.

Or when she had purposefully yanked out some sort of fuse in her car so it wouldn't start and he had apologized that it had gone missing. "Not your fault at all!" Because it's totally my fault and then she'd pretended to find the fuse on the ground. "Will this fix it?"

He frowned at the tiny piece of place and wire. "Um, aye, that's so weird..."

Today she was going to claim there was something wrong with her siding and it needed to be replaced. She dropped the crowbar, wiping sweat off her forehead, and placed her hands on her hips, glancing at Missandei, who was shaking her head side-to-side. "What?"

"Just bloody ask him out! I'll do it for you. You're destroying your house just to get him to come over." She smirked. "He has to know what you're doing. He's just taking your money and knowing you're using him which is wrong, or he's really bloody stupid and that's not great either."

"You haven't met him yet."

"What guy could be so attractive and cute and sweet and all that for you to resort to this!?" Missandei waved her hands at the splintered wood at her feet. She sighed, closing her eyes. "Dany, love, you are my best friend but..."

"Good morning!"

Dany threw the crowbar into the bushes, spinning on her heels and beaming at the man who had poked his head around the open fence to her back garden. She waved. "Hello Jon! Good morning to you!" She rounded on Missandei, who stared at him and smirked knowingly. "You're a little early."

He turned pink, coming around the corner holding onto his toolbox. "Aye, sorry about that, I thought I might get you a coffee..." he trailed off and politely smiled at Missandei. "Oh I am sorry, I would have gotten another....here, you can have mine if you want."

To her best friend's stunned silence, he removed one of the two takeout coffee cups from the tray in his other hand and passed it to her. Missandei swallowed hard, clearing her throat. "Thank you, that's...so nice of you."

He smiled again in his shy, half-smile way that Dany absolutely bloody adored, and turned his face to her. "You called last night and said that your bathroom pipes were leaking again? I don't know what is going on, I mean..." He scratched his hair, brow furrowing, and gazed up at the old-as-shit house she had purchased with intent to completely renovate. "I swear I just fixed those..."

"Oh you did, I'm sure this place is cursed."

"By a Valyrian dragon," Missandei mumbled under her breath.

Dany stepped on her foot and crossed her arms, grinning. "And would you look at this? This siding is rotten, I think we'll need to replace it."

"Um, yes of course." He knelt and picked up some of the wood, shaking his head. "You must have an angry ghost Dany, this looks like someone took a crowbar to it." He was immediately concerned, jumping to his feet. "You should file a police report, someone could be vandalizing your property!"

Missandei sipped her free coffee and mumbled again, not so quietly, "Hmm, someone with silver hair I think."

"What?" Jon asked.

"Ignore her, she's mad." She forced another smile. "It's fine. I...thank you Jon, perhaps look at those pipes first and then we can look at the siding."

"I have wood," he blurted out.

Missandei choked. Dany flushed bright red. "Oh?"

"Hmm, in the truck. Be right back." He turned on his heel and walked away. Dany elbowed her best friend, who stared now at his retreating back.

"Oh my."

"It's beautiful. I just like to look at it."

Missandei patted her arm. "Daenerys you are my best friend, but if you don't ask him out by the end of the day, I'm going to tell him everything you've been doing and only because I'm scared you might set your house on fire just to watch him come running in with the fire hose."

Dany hummed. The idea was appealing, but arson was certainly not an option.

Yet.

---

It was the end of the day; she'd tried her damndest to get him to ask her out. Missandei had left, becaus she claimed she couldn't watch it any longer, proclaiming them both "stupid idiots" and Dany had to agree. She was a stupid idiot, trying to get him to look at her as something other than the crazy lady in the haunted house. She'd worn her bikini top while gardening, she'd broken her siding, and stuffed leaves in her gutters.

And Jon Snow still didn't bloody get it.

Maybe he was stupid, she thought, and watched him bent over some exposed pipes in the hallway leading to the master bedroom. A himbo or something. Except she knew he wasn't, because she'd seen that he had a stack of books in his truck to return to the library, one of which happened to be her brother's boring ass tome on Targaryen History, and he'd eagerly chatted with her about it.

"So why are you a contractor?" she asked. She kept referring to him as a handyman, but reminded herself he was more than that. He ran his own business and lumber yard up in Winterfell. "Do you just like fixing things?"

He shrugged, reaching his arm down into the pipes. "I do like fixing things, but when I got out of the military, nothing really appealed to me. Didn't want a boss again and I like building things. Working on my own terms."

"I like that too." It was why she moved up North, a freelance journalist, and needing a safe quiet space to recharge and focus between assignments. She got up and cleared her throat. "I'll be downstairs if you need me." She was halfway down the stairs when she heard a strange sound. It was a yowl.

It sounded like Drogon, she thought, turning towards the wall. "Drogon?" she called.

He meowed again, pitiful. She moved closer towards the wall and knocked. Her voice trembled, calling once more. "Drogon?"

A light scratching and more yowling.

She screamed, realizing with horror that Drogon was inside the bloody wall. "DROGON!" She banged on the wall, running up the stairs, crying out. "Jon! Drogon's in the wall!"

"What?"

"I think he must have crawled in when we were talking and not looking, oh my gods, Drogon!"

Jon frowned at her, still not moving. He narrowed his eyes. "Drogon's in the wall, huh?"

"I think so."

He cocked his head and got to his feet, sighing hard. "Dany, I...I think I know what's going on and..." He turned bright pink. "I really have to confess something..." He shifted on his feet and blurted out, really fast, his Northern burr thick. "I...I know that not everything here is breaking and...and I'm fixing it and stuff, but...well...the store was open and I didn't get hte part because I wanted to come see you and...and I may not have cleaned the gutters all the way so I could come back and...oh gods, I haven't charged you at all because I'm just...I like you!"

Her eyes widened, too terrified for her cat to process what he'd just admitted to her. "But...I...I'm sorry, but he's really in the wall! Listen!"

They both were quiet and after a second, heard the pathetic howling of a trapped cat.

Jon moaned, mortified, shoving his face into his palms. "Oh my gods! I'm so sorry! I thought...oh fuck, forget what I said!"

"No I can't forget it because I like you too!" They could have this conversation after they saved her damn cat.

It took awhile, of her trying to coax the damn cat out from the opening in the floor, to Jon carefully searching and finding a space in the wall to knock through with a sledgehammer so he wouldn't hit Drogon or anything unsafe. Bits of drywall and debris scattered, "You better watch yourself," she warned him, when Drogon began to hiss and pant, terrified as they drew closer to him. "He might attack!"

"He's just scared, he'll be alright."

A couple hours later, her entire hallway and stairwell covered in broken bits of drywall, plaster, wood, and insulation, her very dirty and ashy cat enveloped in a blanket in her arms, Dany finally looked up at JOn. He hadn't said a word to her about his confession of not really fixing anything because he liked her and wanted ot keep seeing her.

She ducked her head, whispering, "I know it was wrong of me too, to keep breaking things...I just really liked you too."

"I'm not good with women," he admitted.

"Clearly, I was walking around in my bikini and you didnt say a word."

"I was trying to be professional!"

She giggled. Drogon whined in her arms. She scowled. "Hey! You didn't think I was serious that my cat got stuck in the wall!"

"I thought it was another thing like when you called me to say that your pipes were clogged at ten at night." He arched his brows. "Come on Dany."

"Alright, that was a ruse...but he really did get stuck!" She let go of Drogon, who raced into her bedroom to hide under the bed and lick his wounds-- more like his pride at having to be rescued by humans of all things. She looked up at Jon, sitting on the step just above her and grinned. "Can we agree to just...kind of start over?"

he nodded and licked his lips; she shivered. "Start over at dinner tonight?"

"Yes, dinner is perfect."

"And I'll be the first thing in the morning to start working on..." he gazed around at the chaos surrounding them, sighing. "This."

"Sounds good."

Turned out he didn't have to show up early at all the next morning, because he was already there, fast asleep in her bed, both of them exhausted. Dinner had been merely an afterthought.

[theladyismyshepard]

Hi I’m the anon with the skateboarder human Daniela dream. If you want, you could probably refer to the Daniela I mentioned as Bela since the new info just dropped and also to make things easier. It’s up to you though! Tysm! ^ ^

Hell yeah, my friend, I can get behind your AU dream, I just hope I can do it justice for ya! And I can change the name to Bela, I know the new info drop has a bunch of my stuff all fucked off 😅 I’ll take a few days from writing so I can figure out how to fix everything so it isn’t confusing for you guys 😞

Don’t Wake Me

The gray haze of winter had everything looking dreary, from the bare branches swinging in the breeze, to the puffs of hot air that billowed from your mouth with each exhale. Your stiff fingers were burrowed deep into the pocket of your hoodie, interlocked in a futile attempt at keeping warmth.

When it looked like this outside, you couldn’t even try to tell the time just by glancing up at the sun placement. It had you glancing numerous times as the screen of your phone to check the time. It had read six forty-five.

Where is she?

Your girlfriend has asked to meet her at the skate park at the outskirts of town at six thirty, and you being the punctual person that you are (only when it came to Bela), you arrived five minutes early. You grumbled as your girlfriend left you waiting as she always did. A begrudging smile couldn’t help but make its way to your lips. Bela was damn lucky she’s cute. Six forty-five gave way to six fifty, and suddenly the blonde wasn’t that cute.

You felt a pout coming on as you crossed your arms, stuffing your fingers underneath your armpits. Your nose had long since been running, and there were only so many spots on the sleeve of your hoodie... If she didn’t show up soon, you’d be forced to give up and go home.

Just as you were seriously considering getting up off the bench, you heard the scratching of wheels against concrete, and it was drawing your attention to your left. Bela was approaching you fast on her skateboard, her eyes wide and filled with mirth. You could see her braking and slowing her pace before she landed a kickflip before you. Her smirk had the corner of your mouth twitching.

“You’re late,” you drawled, unimpressed.

“At least I’m fashionably late!” exclaimed Bela. “This perfection takes time.”

Your eyes reflexively looked her up and down. Her ripped jeans were so tattered that you couldn’t help but think that her pants needed more pants. Her favorite pink hoodie had questionable spots in random places. The high tops on her feet weren’t even tied. You gave her a blank look.

“I can see the effort you put in for me.” you retorted, moving to stand.

“Well when you say it like that, I almost don’t believe you do.” replied Bela cheekily, watching your movements like a hawk.

“You had me waiting.” you pointed out, eyebrow arched.

Bela finally had the decency to look sheepish, the tip of her shoe scuffing the ground. When she could bring herself to look you in the eye once again, her’s were wide and pleading. Coupled with the way her lower lip jutted out the slightest... I can’t believe she’s giving me the puppy eyes.

“It wasn’t totally my fault!” Bela started, but deflated once she said it. “My mom said dinner comes first, and I can’t exactly talk back.”

You shook your head, understanding completely. You had met their mother, and while she seemed to like you enough, you know that she wouldn’t allow Bela to put you above her own well-being.

“No, you can’t do that.”

“Please don’t tell me you showed up five minutes early.” Bela had suddenly thought about your punctuality.

“It’s better to be early than late.” you quipped, though your grin eased any tension that was weighing on Bela.

“Oh, coming early is never a good thing in my book.” teased Bela, poking you in the ribs.

“You aren’t as funny as you think you are.” you lied. Your widening grin was your tell.

“I make myself laugh.” Bela shot back, giving a shrug.

“You’re about the only one you can make laugh.”

Her gasp had her looking like a fish out of water, and it had you doubled over with laughter. Her scoff prompted another fit of giggles, which shifted into a squeal when she surged forward to tickle your sides.

“Stop it!” The shriek of forced laughter echoed past the tree lines as you pushed her away from you, taking off in the direction opposite of her.

You sprinted a few yards before you turned back, confused by the lack of following footsteps. She stood there, just watching you with a curious look as your eyes met. You gave her a “well?” face and she was soon hopping onto the table before leaping forward, even going as far as to do a little barrel roll.

You rolled your eyes at your girlfriend’s antics, but it was more out of amusement and adoration than anything really. You pressed on, covering more ground before Bela could catch you, and once you passed through the gate enclosing the skate park, you slammed it shut, cutting off her pathway.

You didn’t have to look to know that she cleared the gate if her wild cackling and the sound of rattling metal was anything to go by. You didn’t look back, you couldn’t afford to. You could feel the phantom of her presence lingering right behind you, ready to reach out and snag you, and your body surged forward in your second wind.

Her clambering footsteps behind you were getting farther back, and for a moment you thought you had won. You even cracked a smile through your panted breath.

But then you heard her skateboard barreling towards you, the tires spinning faster than you could run. You couldn’t help the jolt of panic that had you moving faster as Bela laughed almost maniacally as she chased you.

Arms encircled your waist and you yelped as you both tumbled to the ground, skateboard skirting off to the side. You turned onto your back, and relished the body that melted against your own. Her chest was pressed against your own and you could feel her heartbeat matching yours.

Her eyes looked deeply into yours and you could see the gold flakes swirling in her bright eyes. You could see a shift in them that had you both leaning in for a kiss. Every one took your breath away, and this was no different, even if you were breathless before. When the need for air had her pulling back, she had a megawatt smile that lit up her entire face.

“You’re like a dream.” you couldn’t help but mumble, and she chuckled.

“Let’s hope you don’t ever wake up,”

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 30 (12K Follower Special)

(Master Post)

I want to thank you guys for being so patient with this fic. Its hard to believe its been a year since I first wrote part 1. I have been agonizing over this part for so long, I hope you all enjoy it. PS, I would love to hear what you guys think. And please share it around.)

_______________________________________________________________________

Lila used her key to unlock the front door. She quietly entered only to see her mother smiling at her.

“I was wondering where you were. How is everything honey?” Her mother greeted.

Lila put on a smile for her and greeted her with a cheek kiss. She was not expecting to see her mother up. She would have sworn she would be asleep. The work at the embassy often left her mother drained, it was rare when she was up an about at night when she was home.

“I had to slip by the school. Make sure that I had everything I needed for tomorrow.” She answered.

“Studious as always. I am so proud of you.”

“Of course! If I want to be as amazing as you I have to keep up with my school work.”

Lila knew her mother would eat up the flattery. Her mother was a gullible woman that loved to be complimented. She was not stupid, but she was far too trusting. The brunette knew all too well that her mother had often had her kindness taken advantage of by others.

“I was listening to the answering machine messages, and I noticed your principal called. He says that he is glad to have you back from your leave of absence?”

Lila didn’t bother sweating the comment.

“It's an error with the school computer. Remember how my old school had similar issues? I will clear it up this week.”

“Of course. School systems don’t really change much wherever you go, we really need to discuss that at the next meeting.”

“Don’t worry Mamma, I am making the most of it.”

“Mia stellina I know you will. That is why I got you a gift.”

“Oh?”

Lila watched as her mother pulled out a small box that was gift wrapped. Handing it to her daughter.

“I am sorry I had been gone most of last week. Things have been hectic. What with the… oh you don’t need to worry about all that. I saw this on my way back and I was saving it for your birthday, but I figured now would be a good time.”

Lila opened the present to reveal a lovely silver bracelet, with a small charm in the shape of an eye mask. Her mother knew Lila had a love of masks and would make sure that if there was some place she went that was interesting, she would get her a mask from that place.

“Thank you, Mamma, it is lovely.” Lila hugged her mother. Managing to hide how little she actually cared about the gift.

“I knew you would love it. It will look so lovely on you when we go out to dinner with your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?”

“The handsome blond model you told me about. Adrien?”

“Oh! Right. Yes of course. My boyfriend. Though I am not sure he will be able to have dinner with us anytime soon. His father has him on such a strict schedule.”

Mrs. Rossi frowned.

“We can work something out another time. I’d really like to meet him.”

“I’m sure he feels the same way.”

Lila began making her way to her room.

“I think I’m going to get ready for school tomorrow.”

“Alright dear, I will be here all day tomorrow, maybe I can swing by your school and we can have lunch together.”

“Sounds great. Looking forward to it.”

Lila closed the door to her room.

She let her fake smile leave her face as she looked at the bracelet.

Tacky

Lila didn’t hate the gift, no, she did like that her mother did take the time to get her something. She just wished her mother could have gotten her something better. But really, Lila couldn’t really expect much despite how hard her mother works.

Lila looked over the bracelet more, her mind wandering as she stared at the little mask charm. It looked reminiscent of the masks worn in Mascaraed balls. Lila had to admit it was very fitting.

Everyone wears masks. People sculpt a persona, a personality in which they deal with people. They wear it as best as they can. People often change their masks as they grow or go to new environments. Lila was well aware of that. She was practically a master of it at this point.

Even her sweet naïve momma wears a mask. The mask that she is happy and doing fulfilling work. Lila knows better than anyone that her mother was practically forced to take this position.

Being a diplomat to Paris was considered the worst option when given a choice. Considering how there are depressed supervillains that pop up and nearly destroy the city several times a week because of a Super Terrorist’s quest for jewelry. Lila remembered how her momma tried so hard to spin this into a positive light. How this was her first role as an ambassador and that if she proved herself, she could choose her next assignment. Lila would have rather had gone to any country other than France, even America was preferable and they have their own craziness to deal with. Nevertheless, her mother did her best to be cheerful as she was thrown into this.

Lila refused to be like that, one’s mask should be the person they want to be, not the person they have to be. She would try out a different persona with each place she went, and sure enough, she would leave with a fun experience just before everything went crumbling down.  She would then start from scratch and no one was the wiser.

Paris turned out to be the best place for this, since everything here is so bizarre here, no one would think twice about looking into a lie that seems outlandish. So, Lila allowed herself to be a bit more reckless with her actions. She had to admit, that her carelessness now needed to be corrected, she had allowed herself to get too lax with how good things have been and it nearly blew her cover 3 times. She needed to fix things.

She snapped back to reality, staring at the bracelet. She still wasn’t a fan of the look, but it was still a gift from her mother.

She would wear it tomorrow for her lunch with her mother. But afterwards she can slip it into her bag or something and forget about it. Her mother would be back to being worked like crazy and forget about it after two weeks.

Her phone began vibrating, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She looked at the number and her eyes went wide. It was Alya.

Did that nosy reporter see her at the school?! No, that can’t be possible. She was likely calling about something else. The Italian exchange student took a calming breath and answered her phone.

“Evening Alya? Whats up”

“Hey girl.” Alya greeted with her usual cheery tone. Alya was doing her best not to be in a fiery rage right now, she needed to be calm. A good reporter keeps calm under pressure. “I am just working on an article for the Ladyblog. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Of course. So, if it’s for the Ladyblog it must be ladybug related. What do you want to ask about? I am an open book.” Lila matched the cheery tone Alya had given her, she was hiding her absolute disgust over the subject. Ladybug was one of the last people Lila wanted to talk about right now, especially with how that heroine left her locked in a closet during the last akuma attack.

“Oh, it’s about akumatization. You know, that thing with the butterflies that maniacal monster Hawkmoth does to people. I am writing an article of how it impacts people and with how close you are with Ladybug, I figured she might have leaked a detail or two that I wasn’t aware of. Do you mind answering some questions about it?”

This wasn’t a complete lie, Alya was writing about Akumatization, but it was about Lila’s times as an akuma specifically.

“Well I might have a detail or two that could be shared. Ask away!”

Lila knew she had already had a close call with Alya earlier this week, she didn’t want to give the reporter a single reason to think she was a bad person. She could lie about a thing or two if needed to ensure that this line was secure, until she left the girl dangling from a cliff.

“Great! Thanks for doing this. You are a life saver.”

“Glad I can help, so bring on the questions.”

“Right. First question, how many times have you been akumatized?”

Lila was about to answer three, once during her first time in Paris, once during Heroes’ day, and once during her day back, that of course wouldn’t be good. She had said during Heroes’ day she was on a leave of absence outside of Paris. So that won’t do.

“Two. Once on my first day at Dupont, and the second time on my first day back.”

She is Lying

Alya had noticed the lie, Lila had been akumatized at least three times. Once was during her first day, the second time was at Heroes’ day because there were reports of Volpina among the akuma army. If Lila was out of France at that time, Volpina couldn’t have possibly been there. The day she got back had to have been her third time akumatized.

“I see, and during both of those times you felt intense emotional distress. Correct?”

“My memory is a bit fuzzy on them, but yes. I can say that I felt emotionally vulnerable.”

“As expected. And you have no memory of the activities you did while you were an akuma?”

“That is correct. If I was in complete control, there is no way I would have done such awful things.”

“Of course, you wouldn’t. Now this question is a bit more of a confirmation, something of a rumor among the Ladyblog. There is some speculation that if you accept the akuma willingly, you will maintain your memory of what happened while as an akuma. Is that something you can confirm?”

“Yes, Ladybug mentioned it once during a conversation. She was worried that Hawkmoth had some ‘Supporters’ that willingly did his bidding. I also believe if the person gives up the akuma willingly back to Hawkmoth they retain their memories during their time as an akuma. But I am not certain of that.” Lila added a touch of some truth to make it appear more legit that she and Ladybug are close. That is some personal information she discovered for herself. Lila was certain that this would ensure Alya trusted her.

Alya was certain Lila was willingly working with Hawkmoth and that she would never trust this liar ever again.

“Oh wow, that is very interesting. So just to assure the readers that you aren’t one of those followers. Have you ever accepted the akuma for yourself willingly?” Alya made sure the question had a lighthearted tone to come off as a joke.

Lila laughed.

“Willingly work with that butterfly creep? You would have to be someone with no empathy to even consider it.”

“One last thing, is it alright if I quote you in my article? If not, I will keep your name out of the…”

“By all means go ahead. I would love to be a part of your work if you want me to be.”

“Alright, I’ve got everything I need. Thanks again Lila. I should have this article out by tomorrow.”

“Anytime. I’m looking forward to reading it.”

“Have a good night.”

“You too.”

Lila hung up the phone with a content smile.

She is none the wiser. I even did a little bit of good letting her in on that bit of information on Hawkmoth. That should send some good karma my way

Lila smiled as yawned suddenly. She decided now would be a good time for bed.

_______________________________________________________________________

Alya smiled as she made sure she was off the call.

“Thanks Lila, you have no idea how much help that was.”

She had transcribed the interview into her article as she was talking with the liar.

She read through it to make sure there were no errors

“Alright, and this will be up tomorrow morning after first period.”

She scrolled up to the top page of the article which read:

Friend of Ladybug or Akuma Collaborator? The Truth on Lila Rossi

“Now to add the last few edits before going to bed.”

_______________________________________________________________________

The ride back to the Dupain Bakery was quiet for most of it. It seemed to fly by as the two teens held hands while the large mountain of a man drove them back.

Everything felt so surreal. A wonderful breakfast, a pleasant time of checking out the latest exhibits of the Louvre, a peaceful stroll through the park, an intense session of ice skating, and the dramatic confession on the top of the Eiffel tower which did not go as expected, but still went over very well.

“Marinette.”

“Yes Adrien?”

The blond model felt his face heat up a bit as he tried to speak up.

“So… I guess we can cancel that idea of talking things over in a week.” Adrien said with a nervous laugh.

“Yea… I suppose so.” She giggled.

The two were both happy with how things turned out, but both were still sort of shocked on what to do now.

“How are we going to tell the others? Should we text them so they aren’t stunned?”

“I think this is something that would be better told in person.”

“You mean bragged about?” Adrien teased.

“Maybe.”

The two blushed at this before laughing more. They felt like toddlers that were let loose in a candy store. Excited and bubbly.

“So, we tell them tomorrow then?”

“Yes,”

“Alright, sounds like a plan.”

The limo stops, causing the two to move slightly forward but their seatbelts kept them from moving off the seat.

“I guess this is my stop.”

“Let me get the door for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

“And what gentleman would I be if I didn’t help a Lady out of the car?”

Marinette’s eyes went wide for a moment. The way he said that rang familiar. But she shook that out of her head. She was going to stop comparing him to chat noir.

Adrien didn’t notice the brief blank out as he got out of the car to open her side.

Marinette got out of the vehicle and gave him a smile.

“Why thank you, kind sir.”

“Shall I walk with you to the door?”

Marinette gave the polite gentleman teen a kiss on the cheek.

“Here is good enough. If you walked with me to the door, My Parents would likely invite you in, and your father would be upset if you were gone any later than necessary”

“Very true.”

Adrien mentally cursed at the fact that his father had a stick up his ass the size of the Eiffel Tower.

“Good night Marinette.”

“Good night Adrien.”

Marinette walked to her door and used her key to enter the bakery.

Once the door was closed, Adrien went back into the limo, he closed the door and sighed happily.

“It’s a beautiful night.”

The driver said nothing as he began driving the boy home, but he did have a small ghost of a smile on his face. 

______________________________________________________________________

Marinette closed the door behind her before sliding down with a loving sigh. Her legs were jelly.

Her kwami flew out of her bag.

“Seems everything went well.” The ladybug kwami commented with a sly smile.

“I’m dating Adrien Agreste.” Marinette stated blissfully. Her eyes were sparkling as if she had found the 8thwonder of the world.

“I am so happy for you Marinette. I knew you could do it.”

“This must be a dream. All of this is some dream, I’m still in bed and I slept through my alarm. Adrien is actually downstairs waiting and probably regretting every… OW!”

Marinette noticed her kwami had pinched her hand.

“Tikki! Why did you do that?!”

“To prove you were awake.”

Marinette paused before going back to her joyous expression.

“Its real!”

The kwami loved seeing her chosen so happy.

“We should probably head upstairs, you have to tell your parents all about it. I believe your dad was keen on finding out details.”

“Right! I have to tell them everything.”

Marinette had so many people she wanted to tell. Her parents, Alya, the girls, Chat noir…

She felt herself stop.

“Marinette?”

“I’ll have to tell Chat noir.” Her feelings felt a bit jumbled now that this thought was given life. And something told her this would not be as much fun as telling the others, whether it was because of how he would feel or how she feels about it.

“That can wait another time, you can’t just lay on the bakery floor.” Tikki commented, trying to change the mood.

“Good point, I should probably get up.”

Marinette knew she would have to tell the cat sometime, but there would be a right time and place. Right now, was a time to be happy and enjoy the fact that she was dating her crush.

_______________________________________________________________________

Adrien arrived home to see Nathalie waiting at the door.

“And how was your day with Miss Dupain Cheng?” Nathalie inquired, her usual monotone hid her genuine interest.

The blond smiled a bit.

“You will be seeing her around me a lot more, I will need to work with you to rearrange my schedules if I want to be able to have time with her.”

“I see. I will see what I can do.”

“Is father…”

“He is occupied with work, you’ll be able to tell him about your day during your scheduled dinner this upcoming Friday.”

Adrien’s smile faltered slightly, he thought things were going to be different with how his father had shown sudden interest in his life the other day. But this was likely for the best.

“Thank you, Nathalie. I will be heading to my room. Have a good night.”

“You too Adrien.”

Adrien headed to his room. Despite his father’s absence on the matter, he was still in a good mood and he would not let the distance get to him.

His smile blossomed once his door was closed and his kwami companion bursted out of his pocket

“Well done Romeo, you got the girl.” The cat kwami congratulated his wielder as he moved to his stash to help himself to some cheese.

“It’s kind of hard to believe it’s real. It feels like a dream. I didn’t think I could be this happy, Plagg.”

“Well good, you deserve to be happy considering all the crap you go through.” Plagg stated as he found a nice chunk of Camembert with extra stink.

Adrien laid back on his bed, he could just revel in the warmth of this day for a while.

“I wonder how everyone will react to finding out. I kind of want to text Nino and let him know.”

“I don’t really understand the big deal with this reveal stuff. You are acting like this is an unmasking ceremony or something.”

Plagg realized his words may not have been wisely picked.

“That’s right, I will need to let Ladybug know.”

Adrien was silent, his expression hard to read as his words hung in the air.

“You are okay with all of this right?” Plagg asked.

“I did say that no matter who was under that mask, I would love that girl. I meant it, but there are many different types of love. It doesn’t need to be romantic. I think it took me some time to realize that.”

Plagg chomps on to his cheese.

“Well, as long as you are sure.”

Adrien stretched.

“I should get ready for bed”

“Why? It’s still early.”

“I don’t want to be tired when I see Marinette tomorrow.”

Plagg rolled his eyes at the soft smile on the blond’s face.

“I don’t know how you did it, but you are actually cheesier then cheese.”

_______________________________________________________________________

“Okay Kim, I get it. The guy in the show modified himself to look like a cucumber.”

“Max, you aren’t even listening! It was a pickle! A pickle, Max! I swear it is the funniest…”

Max was distracted. By his phone vibrating.

“Hold on Kim, I got a text from Alya, it might be urgent. I will have to call you back.”

“That’s cool, but I am showing you that clip. It is hilarious. “

Max secretly thankful that he had an excuse to hang up. He loved his friend, but he had weird taste.

Max looked at the text.

Everything is set up, make sure that the mass email goes up after first period starts. We need to have everyone is in class.

Max understood. he would adjust the time that everything got sent out.

Affirmative, Any other last-minute requests?

Max waited for a snarky reply from Alya.

Nah, we’re good. Thanks Again.

Max sent a thumbs up emoji and put the phone to the side.

“Markov. Adjust the timing of the mass email to 15 minutes after first period.”

The robot turned his mechanical screen to his creator.

“Consider it done”

“Thanks Markov.”

Max took a deep breath and called Kim back.

“So, you were saying about the pickle.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Lila assumed she would be the first to arrive at school. She had made sure to get up earlier than usual so she could slip into the school and make sure everything was set up. To her surprise, she had found the classroom had two students sitting at their desks.

“Alya, Nino. You’re both here early.” Lila did her best not to sound mad about it.

Nino yawned as he drank from the coffee that he had bought with Alya before coming.

“Alya was so hyped about today she couldn’t sleep. So, She called me this morning and asked for a coffee date to help keep her awake.”

Alya was snoozing on her desk face first.

“Maybe get a double shot for her, she seems really exhausted. Wait was this about that paper for the ladyblog she was writing?”

“Wait you know about that?” Nino’s eyes wide, how did Lila know about the article? Was this plan going to backfire? Nino wasn’t sure if he said too much.

“Yea, she called me last night to answer a few questions. She was pretty excited about it. I suppose an article about akumatization would be popular.”

Nino eased himself, it’s clear Lila did not know what was in the article.

“Ah, well she was working on it all weekend.”

“Knowing Alya, that article will be exactly what she needs to get buzz on the blog.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Lila strolled up to her seat, it was clear the exhausted Alya and Drowzy Nino didn’t notice the evidence she had planted under Marinette’s chair. Lila smiled as she thought about how well today would go.

Lila pulled out her stuff and began to survey the classroom. Everything was set up exactly as she had done yesterday. All she needed to do was wait for everyone to show up, and then let the plan go into motion.

Nino sat at his desk, he was pretending to not be paying attention, but he was keeping watch of the devious liar. Lila was sneaky, and his girlfriend was in the middle of a power nap to be observant. Of course, he knew he wasn’t the most convincing fibber, so he would need to be subtle in keeping a close eye on the liar.

Lila had gotten up from her desk and left the classroom for a brief moment. She felt herself shudder.

What is this chill I’m getting, something doesn’t seem right with those two… are they suspicious?

Lila shook the thought out of her head. It was clear that they were just tired, likely on edge from lack of sleep. Getting paranoid would lead to her getting sloppy again. She needed to play this right. Today was the day everything started going her way again.

_______________________________________________________________________

Marinette was bubbly on her way to school. She couldn’t wait to tell Alya and the girls all about what happened yesterday. She knew that Alya would probably be over the moon, and something like this could only be said in person, texting would ruin the moment.

“Marinette, you might want to slow down.” Tikki pipped up from her bag. “I think someone is nearby.”

The designer slowed her pace a bit.

Marinette closed her bag and turned around to see a blond teen running up to her.

“Adrien?”

Marinette stopped to let the boy catch up.

“I… I wanted to surprise you at the bakery.” He said between breaths. “I wanted to walk with you to school.”

Marinette felt her cheeks warm at the statement.

“But I … miscalculated how far you were from my house and to make up for time… I sprinted.”

“You usually have your bodyguard drive you to class. Is your father okay with you walking to school?”

Adrien finished catching his breath.

“He doesn’t know and it’s probably better that he doesn’t, but I let my bodyguard know in advance. He seemed fine with it… Just as long as I message him when I am at school.”

“Sneaking out of the house to meet with a girl, I didn’t know I was dating a badboy.”

Adrien looked at Marinette with surprise until he realized she was joking. He found himself chuckling.

“Now you know the truth, I also have a leather jacket in my closet.” Adrien said while doing his best to look tough to play up the ‘Bad boy’ look he was trying and failing to portray.

Marinette giggled at that lame attempt. Adrien loved that sound.

“I don’t think I can imagine that. Besides, I like good boys.”

Marinette started walking to school.

Adrien sighed happily before matching her pace to join her.

He reached out his hand to hold hers, still nervous about how to go about this dating thing. Sure enough, Marinette was more than happy to hold his hand.

______________________________________________________________________

“I’m up!” Alya exclaimed as she shot up.

“Aw man! Now the moment is gone. I was going to draw on her face.” A pink haired teen frowned, as she held an open marker in her hand but Nino was standing in between her and the formerly sleeping teen.

The reporter quickly gathered her bearings and looked at the smaller teen.

“Like hell you are going to mark up my face.”

“Well now that you’re awake it’s no fun.” Alix commented with dissatisfaction. “Maybe later.”

Alya rolled her eyes. She is too tired to deal with whatever Alix is up to.

“I’m glad you got up, I wasn’t sure I could hold her off any longer.” Nino sighed in relief.

Alya stretched in order to wake herself up from her lethargic state.

“Did school start yet?”

“Not yet, but most of the class is here”

“Anything suspicious with you-know-who?”

“She was the first one to arrive in class after us. She went outside for about 5 minutes then came back into her seat. After that, nothing weird.”

“Okay, and I guess you didn’t notice anything else.”

“Nothing”

“Okay, and why does Alix want to draw on my face so bad? Did she make a bet with Kim?”

“Kim bet her 10 Euros that she wouldn’t be able to do it.”

“She will be out some cash.”

Chloé walked into the classroom with Sabrina following shortly behind. It was apparent that the mayor’s daughter was in a mood.

She looked up to Max’s seat and moved her way up. The robot enthusiast didn’t realize she was there until she slammed her hand on his desk. The sudden action startled him and made him look up at the clearly driven teen.

“I did some digging about your little app.” Chloé spat with disgust.

It took Max a moment to figure out what she was referring to.

“Oh, you mean ‘Soulmate Searcher.”

“I know all about that Soulmate Survey bull crap.”

Max had lost interest in that whole thing after he had some more startling information revealed to him. He had even forgot about the argument he had with Chloé.

“Wait, you’re still hung up on that?”

“You were the one talking about how smart and junk it was. I had Sabrina do some digging.”

Max looked to Sabrina, the poor ginger haired girl had a rough night. Likely researching for Chloé.

“Look, I kind of moved past looking into it. So, let’s just agree to disagree and move on.”

Chloé glared at the glasses wearing teen and snapped her fingers.

On cue, Sabrina dumped at least a couple dozen pages on the desk.

Max really didn’t care about this right now, he had a much more important objective to focus on, this was an annoying distraction.

Astonishingly it was Nathanael that picked up a few of the articles.

“These are all written by the same guy.” The artist commented as he kept changing articles to see if there was a second opinion by someone else.

Curious, some of the other classmates moved to the pile of papers.

“Some of these are also old articles, like back when the app wasn’t even a thing here.” Myléne chimed in.

“One of the articles even has an author’s note on the bottom that says that this article holds inaccuracies that no longer apply.” Rose Quipped.

Chloé turned a fiery gaze at Sabrina.

“I told you to research thoroughly!”

“You told me to find anything that was written dismissing the app as fake. This was what I was able to find…”

Chloé grumbled.

“Whatever! I know that app is crap.”

Chloé stormed down to her desk and threw herself on her seat, only to hear a creaking noise and then fall with a painful slam to the floor. The loud noise blocking out the sound of the morning bell.

Chloé’s scream was loud enough to draw the attention of Miss Bustier who ran into the room.

“Is everyone alright? I heard a scream?” The young teacher clearly frantic with worry.

The class was silent as the teacher noticed Chloé on the floor clearly in pain from her bench seat that had fallen apart.

Lila was the first to speak up.

“Chloé’s seat fell apart.”

Lila dashed down to Chloé.

“Are you alright Chloé, that looked like it hurt.” Lila offered her hand to the fallen student.

Chloé took Lila’s hand up and grumbled as she covered her bruised tailbone.

“I want whoever made the seat fired and jailed!”

“It probably broke from the weight of your ego.” Juleka commented dryly.

Chloé turned to the long-haired teen with a grimace.

“I bet you did this you, emo freak!”

“Chloé! We do not insult our classmates.” Miss Bustier scolded. “I understand you are hurt from the fall, but it isn’t right to lash out at your classmates. Apologize to Juleka.”

Chloé moved turned away from the class with a huff.

“I am not saying anything until the jerk that destroyed my seat pays.”

Alya took notice that Lila was digging through the seat. What could she be…”

“Umm, I found something…” Lila’s words caught the classes attention.

Lila pulled out a hair tie that looked familiar.

“Isn’t that Marinette’s Hair tie?” Sabrina piped up.

‘That manipulative bitch! Lila did this!” Alya felt her thoughts scream at her.

“I knew that she was in on this! She made sure she wasn’t here to catch me off guard!”

“It could just be a coincidence.” Lila spoke out. “Marinette isn’t even here yet. It might have gotten lost under here by accident.”

Alya felt her mind screech, this wasn’t adding up, why would Lila bother with the hair tie? What was Lila planning?

Most of the class had gotten out of their seats to look to see the situation.

Max took a closer look at the collapsed seat.

“There are no breaks in the boards, and no screws or bolts to be found. I calculate a 98.7% chance that someone must have removed them from the chair. Someone did sabotage Chloé’s seat.”

The class gasped in surprise.

“I knew it! And I bet it was Marinette that did it!”

“Marinette would never do such a thing!” Alya jumped up. “I know my girl would not stoop to something like this, even if it is Chloé.”

“Perhaps we can check her locker. If there is nothing involving the seat we can clear her.”

“Wait! You can’t just invade Marinette’s privacy.”

Miss Bustier pondered for a moment.

“If we are going to search Marinette’s locker, she will need to be present. She should give her consent before we invade her space.”

“But if she is responsible she would obviously not want us to check!” Chloé shouted. “I will call my daddy and he will have the cops on the case!”

“T-That won’t be necessary!” Miss Bustier eased. She hated how much influence Chloé had thanks to her father’s position. She couldn’t just punish Chloé or simply tell her not to act out. Principal Damocles made sure to explain the delicate balance they had to maintain thanks to Chloé’s presence. She can’t teach her students if Chloé starts getting the police involved.

“I will discuss the concern with the Principal. I am sure he will make the right call and we will decide how to go about this. In the meantime, everyone please sit in your seats. Chloé, if you are still hurt, please have someone escort you to the nurse’s office.”

“I will not be leaving until I get whoever did this expelled.” Chloé hissed.

“In that case, sit in one of the open seats until we can get the seat fixed. Sabrina, you as well.”

The red head teacher made her way out of the classroom.

Chloé turned her attention to the class.

“Alright, I don’t care what Bustier says, Marinette clearly was responsible for destroying my chair and I want some justice!”

“Chloé, just because Marinette’s hair tie was under the desk doesn’t mean that she did it. Besides, when could she have done it?” Ivan pointed out.

“Well then who else could have done it?”

“To be fair, all of us pretty much hate your guts, it could be anyone.” Alix commented as she leaned back.

“So, you admit you did it!”

“I wish! But nah, this wasn’t my handy work. I would have signed it. Because that, would be art.”

The tomato haired artist chuckled at his friend’s comment. Alix gave him a quick fistbump.

Chloé growled.

“You have just as much of an idea who did this as we all do.” Myléne stated firmly.

“Sabrina!”

“Yes Chloé?”

“Who have I wronged in this classroom?”

“Um… everyone.”

“I meant recently.”

“Right… lets see…”

Sabrina went into her phone.

“You had that argument with Max about the app, insulted Myléne’s favorite charity and called the cause stupid, Told Rosé that the reason Prince Ali hasn’t written back to her in the last few weeks was because he was sick of her, told kim his swim cap makes him look like a bowling pin, mocked Nathanael and Alix’s art project collaboration, and… Oh! You also made fun of Marinette’s design sketches. I think that was it for last week. It was a light week.”

“So, there are the obvious suspects.” Chloé exclaimed with a smirk.

“Now if Marinette would get here we would have a perfect line up.”

Lila smirked at the little show, this was all going perfectly. Naturally Marinette would show up just as Miss Bustier got the principal involved. That would lead to the search of the designer’s locker, where Lila had expertly planted the screws and tools that she used to dismantle Chloé’s seat, along with items that she took from other lockers, including her own stuff to make sure Marinette got punished. Based on what she knew, that would be enough to get Marinette suspended, possibly expelled. Either one would work out wonderfully, and with that she could start destroying each person she cared about one by one.

“What about a line up?” a teen boy voice called out.

Chloé turned to see Adrien and Marinette entering the classroom.

The room was silent as the two teens walked in. The whole class watching the duo intently, as if seeing something quite shocking.

“Is something wrong?” Marinette inquired, looking around the room.

She noticed the dismantled bench seat.

“Chloé what happened to your seat?”

Chloé’s jaw opened as she approached.

“Forget the seat! What is this!” She gestured to the two with clear shock and disgust.

Adrien and Marinette look at the mayor’s daughter with confusion before looking at what she was gesturing to. The two realized they had been holding hands the entire time.

“Oh, I think we all know what it is.” Alya’s comment burst through the silence, a smug smile on her face.

“But it would be best to hear it from them.” Nino chimed in, assisting his girlfriend in the playful ribbing of their best friends.

Marinette and Adrien felt their faces turn red and they let go of the other’s hand.

“Well actually its uh, my hand was… I mean his hand was… I …” Marinette tried to get the words out but felt her mouth failing her.

Adrien put his hand on her shoulder.

“Is it wrong for a guy to hold hands with a girl he is dating?”

Marinette felt her heart in her ears as he said that.

Adrien then looks to Nino.

“It is right? Im still new to this and the shows I watched kind of made it a big deal so Im not sure.”  He whispers.

Nino nods.

Adrien looks back at Chloé now more assured.

“This is ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous!”

Chloé stomped away from the two, just unable to handle the truth.

The mayor’s daughter walked out the door complaining about how she was going to be sick at this.

The class quickly swarmed the around the new couple and Alya slipped back to allow the class to ask them questions. She would get the details later.

Lila felt herself seething despite the smile she had on her face. This was not how things were supposed to be going. Even with her plan, Marinette won’t be miserable.

“Not going in?” Alya asked,

“Huh? Oh, I am sure I can ask questions later. Everyone has been waiting on this longer then I have.” The brunette commented as she kept up her façade.

She would have a word with Gabriel about this… actually she might not have to. If her plan goes well, Gabriel would never let Adrien be with someone that could besmirch the Gabriel brand. If word got out that Adrien’s new girl was kicked out of school, the tabloids would rip the girl apart for her. That thought soothed her.

“Besides, we should be concerned about what happened with Chloé’s seat. Max did say it was sabotage. We should focus on getting to the bottom of that.”

Alya looked at the clock. She noticed with everything going on, it was well into first period.

“I think something more important will come up.”

Alya went back to her desk with a sly smile on her face.

Lila felt a chill go down her spine. What did she mean by that?

As if on cue, everyone noticed their phones going off.

The class stop asking the couple questions as they look at their phones, wondering what was with the sudden message

Lila quickly pulled out her phone. Her face went pale as she looked at the attachment titled.

‘The True face of Lila Rossi’

______________________________________________________________________

Mr. Damocles was staring at his computer with shock as Miss Bustier stood in the room.

“It’s unbelievable… the records that we were waiting on for Miss Rossi are all here.”  The principle spoke in bewilderment.

The young teacher watched as Mr.Damocles looked through each file.

“So many reprimands… dozens of student and teacher complaints…. False doctor’s notes…”

“This can’t be real, right? Lila has been a good student. Sure, she had a leave of absence but that was because she was abroad with her mother.”

“These documents are all legitimate. They are all from the previous school Miss Rossi attended, she had failed to notify us of any of the following when she was enrolled here! We could never have accepted a student with such a notorious record.” The principal sternly noted.

“Mr.Damocles please, it could be possible that Miss Rossi was scared about the whole situation. Perhaps this was her chance to start things right.”

“Caline, your kindness and compassion for your students is quite admirable, however, these records still show that there was a lot Miss Rossi has been hiding from us. I will be requesting that she and her mother have a discussion with me. After that, we will decide on whether she can stay Dupont.”

“But what about the issue with Chloé’s chair?”

“You mentioned that Chloé is not injured? Then it can wait until after we sort things out with Miss Rossi.”

“Understood.”

The young teacher left the office, she began to start questioning her actions as a teacher. Was Lila really a bad egg? Was she an awful teacher for not realizing that Lila had been lying to her? She stopped at the door to her classroom when she heard the sound of her students talking.

______________________________________________________________________________

Lila could feel everything falling apart around her as she watched her classmates look at their phones with interest.

She needed to find a way out of this. She needed to think of something fast.

“Lila, is this true?” Nathanael asked in surprise.

The rest of the class looking up from their phones, their expressions a mix of anger, hurt and shock. Marinette and Adrien seemed to be the only ones that seemed unsurprised by the message.

Lila racked her brain for several seconds, until the perfect lie crafted itself in her brain.

Lila fell to her knees and started to cry.

“I thought I was free of that cyber bully from my old school…” Her words hitting the right notes.

“Cyber bully?” Rose spoke up.

Lila knew she had landed one person that was willing to believe. And much like a composer, she crafted her symphony of deceit.

“Yes, you see. Back at my old school, there was this guy I was friends with. He was a smart guy with computers, almost as smart as Max.”

“Wait, if you were friends, why is he bullying you?” Kim inquired.

Most of the class was being pulled in by Lila’s thread.

“He had a huge crush on me, while I did think he was nice, I just couldn’t see him as anything more than a friend. I told him that after he confessed to me. After that however, things started to turn bad. It started out with some minor things, a couple of spam emails, a text with a pop up scare. I could tell he was hurt so I didn’t call him out on it, I was sure he would heal and things could go back to normal… but then he started getting worse.”

“He started hacking into my phone, sending out messages to my other friends, making it seem like I hated them.” Lila made her voice more frantic, as if living through a trauma.

She could tell the class that had been looking at the phones with rage were now back under her thumb, she had them.

“I lost all of my friends, no matter what I tried to say, they shut me off. That guy destroyed my friend group. I went up to him and demanded he come clean. He refused, laughing as he insulted me. He had decided he was going to ruin my life.”

Kim went to the teacher’s desk to get Lila the tissue box.

Lila looked up at the swimmer.

“Thank you.”

She took a tissue to dab her eyes.

“The jerk then hacked into the school’s records, changing my grades, my attendence, he even messed with my medical records at the school! It was hell!”

“Lila…” Myléne moved to her side.

“So, when my Mom got the job to work at the French embassy here, I was so excited. I could finally get away from that cruel monster’s clutches… but so much for that! Now you all hate me and think I am this awful person!” Lila cried into her arms.

“We don’t think that!”

“Of course, we wouldn’t believe that!”

Lila hid her sinister grin as she heard the comments of her classmates. She had easily pulled the wool over their eyes. Much like before she had escaped the jaws of defeat with her deception.

Until the sound of her voice was coming from another source.

Lila looked up and felt the world shake as the horror she assumed she avoided was being undone by what she had gone so far to get rid of. The recording.

“Of course, it was all lies. Knowing Spielberg? Being friends with a prince? All of those outlandish lies and yet everyone ate it up so easily. I don’t know whether it’s something in la seine but everyone here is super gullible. Everyone in that class is stupid enough to believe anything! I didn’t even try to come up with clever lies. Have none of them even heard of Google? I was able to have them eating out of the palm of my hand like the sheep they are. So when I say I could ruin your life Marinette, I can ruin your life without even lifting a finger.”

Alya paused the recording.

“That… that isn’t me! That was clearly an edited audio file!”

But at this point, everyone in the class had stopped buying into Lila’s words.

“There’s an additional 44 minutes on here that say otherwise.” Alya’s statement was like a dagger in the leg. “

The class backed away from Lila, their expressions were all the same now. They were not happy with her. They were hurt.

“Lila… how could you?” Rose spoke softly, as if holding back tears.

Juleka hugged her close.

“We gave you our friendship?”

“You threatened our friend!” Kim shouted angrily.

“We trusted you!”

“Did you even care about us?”

A sea of comments from each student that was hurt by the revelation started to fill the room.

Adrien and Marinette’s expressions read more as surprise than anything else. The two had no idea Lila would be exposed like this. The class was hurt by Lila’s actions, and now she was paying the price.

Marinette moved to where alya was.

“So, this was why you were so busy.”

“Yea, and I see I wasn’t the only one whose been busy.”

Marinette had a soft smile with her friend’s comment.

“You’re the best. You know that, right?”

“No, If I was I would’ve had your back sooner. I’m sorry it took so long to come around.”

“You are still the best.”

Alya hugged the designer.

“I’m serious, after this. I want details on you and Mr. Model.”

“Deal.”

Lila did her best to try and contest the comments, trying to find some way to dispute them, but her words were falling on deaf ears. She could tell that no matter what she said, no matter what she did, it was over. She had lost.

Lila turned her attention to Marinette, her eyes seeing red.

“You, this was all your doing!”

Adrien went in front of Marinette, as if to protect her in case Lila tries to attack her.

“No Lila, you did this to yourself.” The words coming from the blond were colder then ice.

“Adrien, you don’t seriously believe all this…”

“I tried to be your friend, we all did. But you lied to our faces, you hurt our friends, you threatened Marinette. Those are things I can’t forgive.”

Lila glared at Marinette.

“Are you going to hide behind him! Have you nothing to say!?”

Marinette expected to have a whole speech ready the moment the truth was revealed, but she never expected everything to fall into place like this. Marinette felt pity for the exposed liar.

She walked past Adrien and looked into Lila’s eyes.

“I’m sorry that you didn’t think the real you was good enough for us to get to  know.”

Lila acted as if she had been struck in the face. She lost the last of what remained of her tact. She was being pitied!

“You will pay for this! You don’t get to ruin my life without consequences!”

“Is it because you’re getting an akuma from your buddy, Hawkmoth?”

Everyone turned to the ladyblogger, who pointed to her phone.

“You might want to check the Ladyblog.”

Lila suddenly felt a pit of unfathomable despair hit her. What had that blogger done?

Lila forced herself to go to the ladyblog, and on the front page on the site.

Friend of Ladybug or Akuma Collaborator? The Truth on Lila Rossi

Right underneath was security footage of her grabbing an akuma for herself.

This was the absolute worst-case scenario.

Lila ran to the door. She needed to leave. She needed to escape. She needed some way to clean all of this up, but she was stopped. A clearly distraught teacher at the door. Tears rolling down her face and expression that no student has ever seen on the young teacher’s face. Sorrow.

“Lila, I need you to come to the Principal’s office.”

Everyone stood by and watched silently as Miss Bustier took the lying student away.

____________________________________________________________________

“Miss Bustier it isn’t what you think!”

The young teacher didn’t say a word as Lila tried to talk her way out. She was hurt by her students lies, the anguish she put her other students through, and never once looked into it. She felt like a failure of a teacher, she had defended her and this was what she came to find? It was unforgivable.”

She had brought the girl to Mr.Damocles’ office.

“Sit down Miss Rossi.” The owl-like man in the chair stated firmly.

Lila obeyed as Miss Bustier wiped her tears and looked at the Principal.

“Sir, I have some rather disturbing news I found out about Lila.”

“No need Caline. I had found the recording at the end of the documents.”

Lila couldn’t feel more mortified by this. This was some kind of twisted nightmare.

Lila of course wasn’t expecting the next person to walk through the door.

“Mamma?”

______________________________________________________________________________

A masked villain smiled as the window opened to let light into the empty room.

“This is it! This was the anguish I was waiting for! Lila Rossi, you will be my greatest akuma yet.”

He took a butterfly into his hand and turned into an akuma.

“Fly away my little akuma! And evilize her!”

The black buttefly left the lair and began to fly out and find the source of the negative energy.

“Mayura, it is your turn.”

The blue clad villainess step forward, plucking a feather from her fan and turning it a sinister blue.

She blows the feather away into the wind, following the butterfly.

“Fly away my beautiful amok, enhance and hone that despair into a mighty power.”

The two villains watch the sky light as they await to make contact.

“This is the moment we’ve been waiting for. This will be the end of Ladybug and Chat noir.”

Lila ran out of the school, it was bad enough that people found out the truth about her, But her momma?! She couldn’t watch her mother’s heart break as she learned the truth. She ran out of the office before they said anything to her.

‘I need to find a way out of this. Marinette and Alya ruined everything! Now I am the class outcast and what’s worse, my momma is going to find out everything! I need to stop this! I need to get everyone back under my control.

Lila made her way to an alley way and hid behind a dumpster. She wasn’t sure if she was being followed, but she could not risk it. Perhaps she could talk with Mr. Agreste, he could pull enough strings that could… no, he would likely dismiss her. Her usefulness was done. With everyone against her, there was no way she could do anything.

She sat and let her despair run over her. There was nothing she could do, she felt so powerless. Everything she had been building up to. Everything she had wanted was all in reach… and yet it was ripped away from her! She would do anything to have things back to how they were, back when she was in charge!

She heard something approaching. She looked up, clearly not ready to face her punishment. But what she didn’t expect to see was a butterfly coming her way.

The butterfly made its way to the silver charm bracelet on her wrist and a feather made its way into her earing. A butterfly outline appeared over her face.

“The despair of having everything you have built come crashing down.” A familiar deep voice spoke

“All of that effort dashed in one catastrophic moment.” A feminine voice continued the line, a new yet equally sinister tone.

“You were the queen of deception until they shattered your crown”

“The pain you have suffered by that horrible event.”

“What you wouldn’t give to fix everything and gain that power over others you once had.”

“Hawkmoth, so you show yourself. I was thinking you forgot all about me. And it seems you made a new friend.” Lila interrupted their eerie rhyme.

“Oh, as if I couldn’t forget about my most competent akuma.” Hawkmoth Praised.

“I am Mayura, partner of Hawkmoth, I have been watching you closely Miss Rossi.” Mayura introduced herself. “It appears you have yourself in a much more devastating predicament then before.”

“It’s all your akuma’s fault, it’s all Marinette’s fault… Its all of their faults!’

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. I am going to give you the power to get those classmates of yours back under your power, no, all of Paris under your control. You will topple Paris with an army of unquestionably loyal akuma.”

“And I will give you an ally that will obey any order from you without question.”

The Italian Exchange student loved the sound of that.

“Let me guess, all I need to do is to get Ladybug and Chat noir’s miraculous.”

“Good girl. Do we have a deal?”

“Crushing Ladybug will be therapeutic right about now. I’ll have that entire school under my foot, along with those miserable brats that ruined my life.”

“Very well! I grant you the power to reveal the akuma lying underneath each person with your masks! Show the world who you truly are, Masquerade.”

_____________________________________________________________________

(And that was Part 30! Thank you guys so much for reading up to this point. This was a long time coming. I hope it reached your expectations. Now remember to say what you think of the chapter, good, bad. I want to hear your thoughts. Is it worth seeing Part 31?

Now, I did mention that I will be announcing a new contest. Which After this reaches 1k notes I will be officially announcing.)

(If you want to support me directly, check out my ko-fi. Or if you want to support indirectly, take a look at the webcomic I am writing with @knightsweeties)

Special Honorary Tags: @martasaur @dootintootincowboy @inno-chan @tenten-hinamori @bevvydraws @worteltje7

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Five Times Colson Baker Almost Kissed You and the One Time He Did

Requested? For someone else maybe (i’m sorry LMAO)

Warnings? None? 

Summary: You and Colson have been best friends for years now and had feelings for each other for what seems like the same amount of time. However, you always seem to be missing out on one another. 

Word Count: 2,902 (it’s so long but I promise it’s worth it)

One

“One hour,” Colson says, trying to convince you. 

“No.” 

“Please? We can get food after,” he begs and you consider it for a moment. 

“Alright.” 

Colson cheers loudly at this, picking you up and spinning you around before throwing you back onto his king-sized bed. He heads to his closet, sorting through his clothes to find something to wear and you roll your eyes at your best friend. 

Colson had been begging you practically all week to go to a party that Pete Davidson was surprisingly throwing. You had always wanted to meet his best friend but had never gotten the time to do so. That was the main reason you said yes to going to the party and the other was Colson was Colson and you couldn’t say no to those big blue eyes.

“One hour,” you tell him when you arrive at the house. 

“One hour,” he repeats pressing a kiss to your cheek before heading into the party. 

You head in slowly, making your way to the drink table first and pouring yourself something before figuring out what to do next. Just as you’re about to walk around in hopes of finding someone you know, you hear someone call your name. 

“(y/n)?” you turn to see Pete standing a few feet away with a smile plastered on his face. 

“Hey! I’m Pete,” he says offering his hand to shake. “I didn’t mean to sound weird knowing who you are, Colson talks about you a lot.” 

“Good to know,” you joke, and Pete smiles. 

The two of you end up talking for a while, getting to know each other, and trading secrets about Colson. You don’t realize how fast time is going until a drunk Colson finds you. 

“Darling!” he calls, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and leaning his head against yours. “You met Pete?” 

“Yes, love. And you’re wasted?” you ask. 

You turn your head to the side to look at your best friend when it occurs to you how close Colson is. An inch rests between two of you, and your eyes flicker between his and his lips. Your eyes land on each other and for a moment something passes between the two of you. 

"Y'all gonna kiss or what?" Pete says from in front of the two of you. 

You and Col both laugh, and your head rests on his chest. The two of you cast another glance at each other before you maneuver so your arm is around Colson's waist and his slips around your shoulders. 

"Let's go, big guy." 

Two

"Fuck!" Colson curses loudly while messing with the pearl-like necklace. 

You stand from your spot on the couch and head over to your frustrated best friend. As you walk up to him, his hands drop and you stand in front of him. You offer a small smile and reach up to click together the confusing necklace. 

“I’m nervous,” he admits as you work on the jewelry. “Why the fuck am I nervous?” 

“Because it’s a VMA and you’ve been working your ass off and you deserve one.” 

“But I don’t care if we win or lose,” he insists and you nod. 

“I know. But you still care a little bit.” 

After fastening the necklace, you fix it so the bullhorn is at the center of his neck. Once finished, your hands fall to his chest and you look up at him. 

“You’re gonna win.” 

Because of restrictions, you sit to the side of the room as Colson heads in front of the cameras to talk to the interviewer. You sit back and admire your best friend’s success, proud to have been able to watch how far he’s come and how amazing he’s done in his career, vma or not. 

“What I wanna let you know, you won the vma. I have somebody bringing it in for you right now.”  

Just as Colson begins to freak out on camera, you immediately start to jump up and down for your best friend. You want to run up and hug him and tell him you knew it but you refrain wanting to hear what he says in his acceptance speech. 

He runs through the og’s, Casie, his family, Travis, and Mod, and just as he’s about to stop, his eyes land on you. 

“My beautiful best friend. Just before this, she was reassuring me that I was gonna win and I trust her with everything. Thank you for always believing in me.” 

A happy tear falls as Colson continues to cheer and you watch until the interview is over and the crew cuts the camera. As soon as they’re finished, Colson beelines straight for you. 

His arms wrap around your waist and yours slip around his shoulders and you can feel the excitement and love radiate between the two of you. He picks you up and spins you around unable to contain the happiness and you’re both practically screaming in the tiny backstage area. 

“I won!!” he yells. 

“You won!!” you echo and you’re both laughing out of pure bliss. 

He sets you down and you take a step back, your hands moving from his shoulders to his face and you cup his cheeks and see a beaming smile greet you. 

“I’m so proud of you Col,” you say and he laughs lightly still not believing this all. 

You stay there like that for a moment, gazing into each other eyes and your heart beats fast as his striking blue eyes study yours. Your thumb absentmindedly strokes the side of his cheek and he leans into your touch. You’re certain he’s leaning in and you’re getting closer when someone interrupts you. 

“Colson? Is it okay if we get some pictures?” 

Three

“Okay, we’re gonna sit here and get all of our work done even if it kills us,” you say turning to your best friend and laughing. 

“Or, we could go to this party in the hills?” Kells asks, offering you puppy dog eyes. 

“Absolutely not. You have to finish that song and I need to write this paper. We can get it done together.” 

The older boy gazes at you from across the room and you meet it with ease. After a moment or so, he breaks and you giggle lightly knowing you won. 

You and Colson both had been putting off your respective work for days now. You were both born procrastinators, having bad habits for waiting till the last minute to get things done. When you met each other, it got a little bit easier to finish things though when you had to do it together. 

However, sometimes you got things done much later in the night than the two of you would have liked. Currently, it was almost 2:30 and neither one of you had made much progress. 

“Okay, I’m done,” Kells says coming over to your spot on the couch and laying down. 

His head falls into your lap and you instinctively let your hands fall to his hair. Your hands card through the soft blonde locks that fall into a messy mohawk formation on his head. You watch as Kells eyes fall shut as your nails scratch the sides of his buzzed hair before running through the locks once more, 

“Hey,” Colson says and you look down at him. You smile lightly at the older boy and he sits up at the action. He props up on his elbow, one hand reaching up to twirl his fingers through your hair and you hum at the action. Your eyes trace over his features, committing each perfect detail to memory. 

You suddenly realize you’re both moving closer and closer to each other until you’re centimeters away from each other. Your heart is nonexistent and your eyes shut in anticipation at the closeness. 

Suddenly the loud sound of your alarm goes off and the two of you split. Colson falls back into your lap, his head hanging lowly and sighing quietly. You scramble to turn the alarm off, completely forgetting that you turned it on in case you took a nap during your work. 

“So close,” you hear Colson whisper before he stands and goes back to his work and you find yourself smiling. 

Four

“I suck,” you tell him. 

“You don’t suck,” Colson reassures you. 

“Please? It’s one song, the last song! Please?” he begs taking your hands in his and tugging at them lightly. 

“Fine.” 

“Let’s go!” Col cheers letting go of your hands to pump his fists together. 

Colson had come to you when he was almost finished with the album and had only a few songs left to mix and go over to make sure they were perfect. After going over the album and the deluxe over and over, Colson finally realized what he was missing. 

“It’s just this part at the end, me and Dom already did it but I think adding a high harmony will be perfect,” Colson explains, leading you into the small recording booth. 

He wanted to add you onto body bag, one of your favorite tracks off of Col’s new album that he recorded with none other than YungBlud. The two finished the song, but Colson insists the ending woahs need a harmony. So, he came to you which you still didn’t understand in the slightest. 

“Are you sure you want me to sing? I’m gonna ruin the whole song.” 

“Definite. I’ll sing with you if that makes you feel better,” he reassures and you nod. 

The two of you get set up, Col explaining the process along the way and you try to follow along to the best of your abilities. After putting on your headphones and you both step up to the mic, your nerves start to kick in. 

“I promise it’s not bad. And we can always redo it.” 

You nod at your best friend and he smiles before giving Travis the thumbs up to start the audio. The backing of the song begins and out of habit, you begin to dance to the song. 

Just before the part you’re supposed to sing hits, Colson taps you and you look over at him and he nods as you’re supposed to come in. The two of you sing together, you hitting a higher harmony and Colson smiles wide at you the entire time. 

“It’s perfect guys,” Travis says when you’re finished. 

“We finished!” Colson yells. 

“You did it!” You yell back. 

It hits you both at the same time, the fact that Colson had finished something so close to him and your best friend had achieved something so great. 

You jump into Colson’s arms, your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. He catches you as if he’s done this a million times, his arm circling your waist and he pushes his face into your neck. 

You pull away, about to tell Col how proud you are of him when you’re struck by the proximity of the two of you. You both smile widely at each other, radiating complete and utter joy. You move closer, wanting to finally close the gap, wanting to enhance this moment when you’re interrupted. 

“Uh, guys?” 

Five

“Colson,” you whine from across the room. 

“Yes?” he asks looking up at you. 

You give him a look, the look you’ve perfected between the two of you that is always understood whether you say something before, after, or nothing at all. It always means I want food. 

“We just ate!” he exclaims and you burst out laughing. 

“We ate preppy award show food! I want Mcdonald’s,” you say in between laughter. 

“I mean,” he says, shooting you the same look and now you’re both cackling together. 

You grab your phone and Col grabs his keys and the two of you head out together. Some days, going to McDonald’s and just hanging out was the best for you and Colson. You got to relax, spend some genuine time with each other and do whatever you wanted. 

As you drive, you and Colson sing along to your throwback playlist and talk about the award show you just attended together. You two were getting tired of award season, and the speeches and the tiny food. However, you always promised that if you had each other you’d bear every award show. 

“Usual?” Col asks when you pull up the speaker. 

“Yes please,” you answer. 

Colson orders your food and as you pull up to the first window you try to hand him your credit card. 

“Venmo me,” he says. 

“I..” you begin and he tilts his head to the side in confusion. 

“Have no money in my bank account currently.” 

The two of you burst out laughing, the worker giving you confused looks as Colson hands him his card anyway and you try to protest but nothing comes out between the giggles. 

After Colson pays and you pick up the food, you tell him to pull over somewhere so you can eat. He ends up finding a secluded parking lot for the two of you to chill. 

As you eat, you two talk about random things, from stories from the week to past dumb things you two have done. You end up laughing and enjoying your time well past when you finish your food. 

“Remember when you fell at that award show?” kells asks and you begin to laugh.

“It was one time!” 

“You face planted!” he reminds you and you’re both laughing all over again. 

“You didn’t even try and catch me,” you whine. 

“I’ll always catch you I promise,” he says and you look over at your best friend. 

Kells wears a serious expression replacing the bright but rare smile on his lips just seconds previous. Your eyes search his, uncertain of the meaning behind the words. His hand takes yours, his thumb rubbing over the soft skin and his eyes stare into the distance as he does the action. 

“Col,” you whisper, trying to get the older boys attention. 

His eyes snap to yours and his hand moves from yours to your cheek. His thumb traces your features, trailing from your jaw to your lips and you’re breathless at his touch. Just as you inch closer and closer, your lips ghost over each other’s, and your breath hitches. 

You think you’re about to meet, a long-awaited connection when a horn blares out of nowhere, scaring the two of you apart. You both settle back into your seats, a soft chuckle emitting from your best friend as he shakes his head. You bite your lip, a hand coming up to feel the skin where his fingers gracefully touched and you can’t believe your moment was ruined once more. 

And One 

“Hey I’m coming over in 5,” you say greeting Colson from the view of your car. 

“Uh why?” he asks peering into the phone to figure out why you’re headed over to his place so late at night. 

“Cause there’s a meteor shower and I wanna watch it from a good view,” you explain and Colson laughs at you. 

After a quick drive, you’re walking inside of Colson’s house with blankets, pillows, and tons of snacks. When Col sees you, he hops up from the couch and helps you with the stuff. 

“You seriously drove all the way over here for a meteor shower?” 

“It’s a better view over here!” you defend and Colson laughs. 

Together you bring the stuff upstairs and manage to bring it out onto the rooftop. You set up, laying blankets over the rooftop, setting up pillows, and laying out snacks. 

“When is the shower supposed to start?” Col asks as he climbs back onto the roof next to you. 

“I think like 10 minutes?” 

Colson nods in response, settling in next to you. He lays down, his hand slipping underneath his head to prop himself up slightly. You lay down next to him, relaxed in each other’s presence as you wait for the meteor shower to begin. 

As you sit and stare at the stars, your mind wanders to the boy next to you. As cheesy as it was, you’d always be grateful to have Colson Baker in your life. No matter what happened, knowing him and gaining life experience together will be something you always cherished. 

You feel Colson moving next to you, and his hand slowly trails down until it meets yours, interlocking your fingers with ease. Your heart pounds slowly in your chest and you’re surprised Colson can’t hear it. 

“Hey,” he says and you turn to look at him. 

His hand comes to meet your cheek and you search his eyes. You sink into the feeling of his hands on you and nothing feels better in the world. As he moves closer, your breath hitches and you’re mesmerized by his stunning blue eyes. 

Then his lips are on yours, and the long awaited connection has sparks lighting from end to end. He moves slightly so he’s facing you, one hand holding your waist as the other caresses your cheek and you’re relaxed into his touch. 

As he pulls away, he places another chaste kiss to your lips and you’re left smiling wide. As you stare into Col’s eyes, you can’t help but giggle as the ultimate feeling of happiness overwhelms you. 

“Fucking finally,” he says and the two of you are really laughing now. 

[touyasdoll]

It only took like 15 days about, but here’s part two for ya! 😅😅😐

Here’s a quick link to Part 1, for refreshers sake.

 

 

[NSFW - Todoroki Sibs x Reader - Smut]

 

—————

Todo-Orgy Snow Bunny Family Meeting 2

You briefly glanced at the nearest window and must not of been too subtle about it, because immediately Natsuo easily lifted you up and into his arms, holding you close and securely. You weren’t going to escape unless you fought your mate and you didn’t want to do that, to hurt him, no matter how something inside you screamed to “run”. Besides, the comfort his touch held was really needed right now, even if something bad was to soon follow it.

…you really hoped nothing bad was about to happen. Please, nothing bad!

“You’re shaking!” Natsuo stated in surprise as you trembled in his form. “What’s wrong? Are you feelin—“

“Did I mess up?” You couldn’t help but blurt out in an interruption, fidgeting in the hold of your largest mate (in some ways, at least). You worried your bottom lip, biting it as you wildly looked around from face to face.

Shock and concern. Everyone looked and smelt strongly of their surprise at your question and worry as their eyes assessed you. It was Fuyumi who spoke up, moving from the loveseat to on the couch next to Natsu. She began to run her hand through your hair, trying to calm you.

“What do you mean, Bunny? Talk to us, please.”

And you did, gripping ahold of the arm of Natsuo’s jacket as you spoke. You told them the whys behind your question and explained a little. Everyone let out a little exhale and their scents turned to reliefguiltprotect.

“No, babe, you’re not in trouble. C’mere,”Touya spoke, making a slight grabbing motion towards you that had you wiggling out of Natsuo’s loosening arms and into his. He settled you down, pressing a light kiss to your lips and another to your head as he made sure you were comfortable, laying against him, chin resting to his chest. He also ignored the little looks that you didn’t even see him receive for stealing you away. “We have something important to talk about, kinda serious but not anything bad.”

“Serious, but not bad,” you tasted the words as you spoke them, brow furrowing in confusion. Usually the two words went together. You had no idea what would cause them not to, but soon your other mate fixed that without even realizing.

“Yes. Are you okay with being impregnated by us?” Shōto, blunt as usual, got to the heart of the matter.

“…children?”, you asked in surprise and wonder, ignoring the punch Natsuo gave to his little brother’s arm — There was a reason that Shōto wasn’t often asked to start off important, delicate conversations. But, children! Kits! You turned over the words around and around in your head in quiet awe.

Touya inhaled deep and sighed with the exasperation only an elder sibling can produce. “You’re ours, we don’t want—“

“Can’t imagine,”Fuyumi quietly added, to Touya’s nod as he kept talking.

“—having anyone else in our lives. Not now, not later on, not when Shōto finally learns social graces. You’re it. You’re our girlfriend, mate, partner, whatever. For life.”

“And, well, we know you’ve talked about how you always wanted kids someday,” Natsuo took over, scratching the back of his head as he spoke. He smiled reassuringly, hopefully. “We do, too. All of us, actually, want kids. And we want them with you, which would be a lot on you and s—“

“Yes!”

You couldn’t help it. You had started to wiggle so much you were practically vibrating in Touya’s lap, causing him to tighten his grip on you, just a bit, eyes sparkling and the tail tip of your succubus traits hitting the cushion behind you in a happy wagging motion. Your mates! They wanted kits with you! They wanted you to have their kits!

“Whoa!” Touya gave a quick, surprised laugh at how suddenly you became excited to such a degree — he made a mental note to find a way to recreate you moving like this in the bedroom — and reluctantly loosens his grip so you could move more. Which you did by surging up to kiss him deeply before bouncing over to do the same to Shōto, who was nearest, then over to Natsuo and finally spinning around in nearly a full circle to slip into Fuyumi’s lap, straddling her in glee.

Fuyumi. Your girlfriend, your mate, partner, Mistress… and the only one who’s kids you couldn’t have. You stopped bouncing in her lap and drew back. Looking up into her eyes, you could tell she hadn’t seen a problem and that- that hurt a bit, but was something she probably never thought about so she wouldn’t feel the same. Probably.

She didn’t have the biological instincts and desires that your inherited quirks did. Succubus and Rabbit, both effecting your sexual desires, modestly (which there was a lack thereof) and socially, the relationship aspects. Natsuo had said that everyone wanted kids, but did she ever think of having them herself? A partner who could give her that one way or another?

Her eyes searched your frame, tone as concerned as the others looked at your excitement that had quickly waned. “Bunny?”

You smiled weakly, a sadly wistful look in your eyes and yearning tone in your voice. “…I wanna have your kits, too, Fuyumi. I wish I could. I wish I was good enough to be able to give you that.”

The sole Todoroki daughter (officially, so far (much to Mama Rei’s chagrin)) widened her eyes at the statement. It squeezed at her heart tightly, her heart that was already fit to burst with the love she felt for their Snow Bunny. Their Snow Bunny that was so excited by the question and happily included all her mates equally like she always did, with the thought of doing otherwise never even entering her mind, despite that her brothers would be the only ones providing her what she needed to become pregnant. She would be okay with being the cool Aunt to them instead of another mom because it might be too confusing for the babies, toddlers to separate everyone like that. But… what if…

Hmm. She had the beginnings of an idea stirring.

…but it could wait. Her little Snow Bunny needed reassurances and quickly getting to her feet, she set the other down to walk in front of her, pushing her ahead gently yet firmly, in a way that spoke that if she could teleport the two would already be there so.

“Wha—“

“Hey!”

“‘Yumi, we weren’t done!”

Fuyumi threw a look over her shoulder. “Details later. I’ve got a girlfriend in need of reassurance — or do you have a problem with that?”, she asked. Not that she stopped moving long enough to hear an answer, but the implied threat in her words has the others waving her off. Well, Touya and Natsuo waving her off, while keeping ahold of Shōto’s shirt so they could explain why going against Fuyumi when she was using that tone was not something he wanted to do. Ever.

“Yumi, I—“

“—am perfect as you are, which I’m going to prove to you.”

“Bu—“

“Shush!”

You both reached her room in little time and before you could even say another thing, Fuyumi was on you, kissing you deeply as she multitasked by unbuttoning your shirt and stepping out of her own skirt. It took even less time than the walk over for her to strip you completely, hands cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, helping to draw out a moan that allowed her tongue to slip into your mouth, easily dominating. You’re not sure when you reached the bed nor when you both climbed into it or when she took her rightful place her atop you, but you certainly felt such a hand reached lower and fingers played with you, pinching your clit and making you buck your hips in response.

You both came up for air as you gasped from the sensation. “F-fuyumiiIIIII!”,you moaned as she gave your clit another pinch and then leaned forward, pressing you into the mattress, demeanor switching. You moaned again as you felt her breasts rub and press against yours. The stimulation from that alone could of sent you over the edge if things in the air hadn’t just changed.

 

—————

Gotta work on the third part now, yeah? Oy…

 

- InvisibleRibbitch

I see you’ve fed us Fuyumi simps 👀