#I hope I can get other job (National Gallery one)

[protect-daniel-james]

Job-related tasks were ridiculous, I hope I don't have to come for the second round honestly (interview). Now onto more football porn.

[izgnanik-a]

Royalty!Nik x Knight!Price - 1

Summary: The thriving Kingdom, under the rule of Nikolai’s family for generations, is finally threatened. It was a matter of time before someone targeted the old king, and threatened to kill him. There is soon a pressure for a new king, and the king’s only son isn’t ready for what’s to come.

Tags: MDNI; inaccurate medieval history, slow burn, smut, depictions of violence

A/N: This will be a slow update series, the chapters will either be individual as standalone blurbs or regular (idk rn). Please enjoy, and check out other content from my masterlist on my page. Enjoy.

Back to masterlist

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The quartet strings started back up as the doors to the gallery opened. Their beautiful crescendo welcomed the King and Queen with their new baby boy in arms. That very day he was christened and declared the bringer of peace between two troubled nations; one at war for centuries, now united in marriage and finally with childbirth.

The bloodline would continue with him.

As he grew older, he proved difficult. He was wise beyond his young years, academically gifted, and athletically successful. He was an equestrian like his mother, and an archer like his father. His grandfathers would be proud of his cartographic skills, assisting in pushing the limits of current civilization advancements.

He developed a better sifting technique for cleaner waters for the public, which decreased the pressure on medics with sicknesses like viral infections and parasites.

But what good would it do the kingdom if he didn’t stop fucking around?

“I want everything perfect for tonight.” Said the King, in high spirits as they walked the grand halls of the manor. A serviceman following him, hardly keeping up with the old man. “Make sure that the Prince is in his clothes by five.”

The serviceman lifted his finger to speak but was unable to intervene.

“It’ll give some buffer time between, but that’ll be perfect. That means there will be no room for mistakes. The Prince will not be able to mess this up. Now, are the tables set for this evening?”

“Yes sire—“

“And are the staff members accounted for and equipped?”

“To their stockings. Of course, sire. But—“

“Then it should be a clear day, and a beautiful evening. No rain shall come today, yes?”

“I suppose. But flowers do need rain.” The serviceman commented.

The King turned to him. “Would you wish ill on me?”

“No sire. I would never!”

“Then why would you wish rain on a good day?”

“What I mean is—“ the serviceman only pulled up his best smile and stood taller, “if it should rain, we’ll have a beautiful rainbow and clear sky forecast tonight.”

The King eyed him.

“I’ll take my leave, sire, and get to dressing the Prince immediately.” Excusing himself quickly, the serviceman snatched the hand of one of the maidservant’s passing with kitchen utensils in hand. “I need your help, but I need it quietly. Or the King will hang me as entertainment decor in front of the invited guests!” He uttered quickly.

“What? The kitchen staff are at short ends as it is.”

“The Prince isn’t here.”

“Well, you better hope he gets here, or we’ll all be decor.” She growled.

He grabbed her hand again. “The only person who knows how to find the Prince is nowhere to be found.”

“Then you can assumed they are together. Now I have a job to do. You just keep the King occupied so he doesn’t realize his sole heir is missing for his own birthday party.” She took her hand back with a fierceness and turned away.

The serviceman held his head in his hands in agony. “I did not wear my funerary attire today.”

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The soft mounds of the woman’s breasts fit perfectly under palm, and as she crescents, writhing like a hungry beast, she gave such howls of pleasure.

Under her full weight smothered a man who had no qualms with dying. He’d lay down his life if it meant being asphyxiated entirely by the weight and glorious drip of a woman’s cunt on his tongue. His palms soothed her aching breasts, relentlessly trying to make another orgasm rattle through her.

She gave such delightful cries. “Oh. Oh—“ While still grinding against the poor fellows offered mouth and nose. “Oh!” She staggered, lifting off her aching knees to hold tight to the head of hair beneath her. “It’s too much.” She begged.

“How about another?” He asked, gazing up like he’d devoured the most divine creation with hunger for more. “Please?”

“No more.” She fell onto her side and then onto her back. “You’re insatiable.”

With thrice the amount of energy, he sprung up to hover over her, cock hard between his legs as he lingered over her. “But it’s my birthday.” He tilted his head. “Didn’t you say this was a gift?” He eased his face into the sweat soaked curve of her neck, suckling along the already warm and bruised flesh he’d bitten.

The tip of his cock teased along her mound, dragging against the soft curls on her pubic bone.

She exposed her throat to his kissing and sucking, allowing his hand to scoop underneath the back of her neck to maneuver her head. “You’re the devil.”

With a smile against her chin, he kissed her throat as he dragged his cock tip between her wet folds to further tease. The hitch in her breath, the soft whine in her throat, the movement of her hips — it was all so inviting when she wrapped her legs around his hips and grabbed his hand to guide him back in.

He settled home quickly in her cunt, already so hot and accustomed to his cock, he was on a short lit fuse. Pumping into her as if he planned on being a father, he hoisted her knees into his elbows. With his head tossed back, it was easy to get lost in the feeling of her body, drowned out by the sound of her rising scream.

With dull nails digging into his thighs, he grit his teeth as he hissed, giving an amused laugh. His father would roll over sick if he saw him now; fucking a townsfolk like he planned on marrying her. It was nothing beyond a good fuck.

“Oh! Nik. Nik! Nik!” She moaned in unison with his grunting.

“Yeah? Yeah?” He huffed, feeling her walls quiver around him, pulsing with temptation. He shivered as he pulled off, wrapping a hand around his slick length and stroked himself until he was spewing. “Good— God.” He could barely hold himself up.

The woman underneath him started with a giggle, then outright laughing. He joined in unison, hanging his head trying to collect himself. “I don’t think the Church would condone your behavior.”

“Let’s not tell them then.” Sitting back on his knees, the woman sat upright to pull herself between the pillows.

Leaning over to the bedside table, she opened the drawer to reveal a small box. Holding it out, she looked proud of herself.

“What is it?”

“A gift.” She sniffed. “A real gift.”

“I’ve already gotten the gift I needed.” He teased, shifting to sit at the side of the bed. He was already grabbing at his clothes strewn about the room.

“Then this is a secondary gift.” She stated. “Take it.”

With slight reluctance, he pulled the box into hand and opened the lid. Inside sat a silver chain attached to a religious pendant. “Where did you get this?” He asked.

“Does it matter?”

“When it looks like this, yes.”

She waved it off. “It’s a gift. For a friend. Accept it.”

He dropped it on the bed. “I can’t,” he said as he was slipping his briefs on.

“The Prince is too noble to accept a gift from a commoner?” She teased.

“No. You should be spending your money on something for yourself.”

“It is. For all the good fucking I’ve been getting, the least you could do is accept it as payment.”

The Prince, Nikolai, smiled with his chin tucked to his chest. He pulled his under garments on, swiping a hand down his chest to smooth out any wrinkles from when it was strewn aside haphazardly.

“Your payment is unnecessary.” Nikolai, pulled his coat over and sat to slip into his mules.

The woman knees her way forward to lean against his back, her bare body pressed to his clothes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, chin perched on his shoulder. “The King would also roll over if he knew how graceful and kind his son was.”

“Wouldn’t want him to know that.” Nikolai huffed, tilting his head in her direction.

She plucked her pinkie out in promise. “I won’t tell a soul.”

Nikolai gazed at her hand as if it were some godly offered gift before reaching for it with softness. He glanced at her, and she brushed forward to kiss his cheek.

Flopping back onto the bed, she stretched her arms above her head, lying in naked grace. “When you leave, can you be a dear and shut the door tight? It came open last.”

“Now you’re just demanding.” Nikolai teased as he stood, he leaned over with his palms bracketing her thighs.

“Someone who’s taken orders all his life should be used to that behavior.” She smirked.

Nikolai hummed before giving into carnal behavior and biting on the soft flesh of her hips, he growled as her hands dipped into his hair and tugged viciously. When he released her, there was a lingering mark of where he’d been.

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When he’d left, he kept his head tucked low, bringing his face covering up to his nose, and moved with haste. If people knew the Prince walked among them, it would both cause a ruckus and a riot.

Though the king had been cherished, he had also been greedy and war hardened.

Nikolai made it up the hill before the streets started thinning, less people kept at his sides, and the smell of smoke had lessened greatly. At this point, his absence had caused a scene so walking through the main doors would do nothing compared to the flame he’d kindled.

“I only ever ask that you listen to my orders, and you cannot even do that!” The King uttered in shame.

Nikolai was sat, half pampered by the staff in his formal attire. He said nothing as he was shucked out of his shirt and offered to put his arms into one much more colorful and jeweled.

“If your mother were here, she would be disappointed in you.”

But it wasn’t easy to say what the Queen would have said. She was a gentle soul, even in the wake of her death. She would have never raised her voice, or struck, or bled her son. She would look at him, and he’d weep for the bad he’d done.

Just as she’d built him, she could break him down and start all over again with the love she so carefully gave.

“You will be civil and sociable tonight. Understood?” The King growled.

Nikolai said nothing, meeting his own eyes in the mirror across from him.

The King made no further remarks as he left the room, but the silence was screaming in volumes. Nikolai looked to the shaking hands of the worker at his collar.

“Don’t fear him. He’s just an old man.” Nikolai stated.

“With due respect, he’s the King.”

“He’s also my father. The man who raised me with his hard head stubbornness and ego.”

The hands at his collar paused. “May I ask you something, sire?”

“Of course. Anything?”

There was hesitation. “I’ve never met the late Queen. What was she like?”

Nikolai’s eyes softened to the memory of his mother flashing before his eyes. “She was kind. Nothing evil could ever taint her brightness. Not even death. She would never be disappointed in me, that’s why my father’s words don’t slice me as he thinks it does.”

“Why do you think he says those mean things? To hurt you?”

“To make an example of me. To make me become him. Resentful of my mother.” Nikolai said. “I could never hate her for leaving so soon like he does.”

Tongue-tied, they stepped aside as Nikolai looked himself from head to toe in his royal garb.

“How do I look?”

“Like royalty.”

Nikolai stared himself in the face.

All he’d wanted was a normal life, outside of royalty. It felt right to be beside the common folk, comfortable, despite their dislike for his father. He enjoyed his time in town, sneaking around added to the fun but he wished there was more privacy to it all.

“Let us not run late for the party. You know how the King is.” Nikolai drawled his tone in an arrogant manner, and it brought a smile to their face.

Led down the hall, the Prince peered over into the inner courtyard, flourishing with life and evening laughter. There were only a few guests so far, but he knew an army more would come.

He was meant to be sociable all evening, mingle to find a potential suitor as well and not just some randoms to take into his bed for the night and release.

The King, though quiet about it, was expecting a successor in the royal family. A grandson.

If Nikolai proved to be troublesome, there would be an arranged marriage and Nikolai would have no say in the matter. He wanted Nikolai to choose something for once in his life.

“Sire, the King is looking for you.” Approached the King’s hand, straight backed and arrogant.

“Of course he is." Nikolai mumbled under his breath as he followed in lead with the help.

Moving with a slow gait, Nikolai flashed beautiful smiles to the guests. Extending his hand towards them as if they were beggars, and they did nothing but bow their heads and kiss his knuckles. He moved like a human being, but to them he was their messiah. He wished to walk on the same ground they did.

The help, the King's righthand, slowed to a casual pace to be in line with Nikolai. He tilted his head back, voice low enough to be heard. "Do us a favor, and behave tonight."

"Excuse me?" Nikolai raised his brow.

"The King did all this work for you, and the least you can do is be grateful and attentive. Even if you don't plan on being King, you can at least offer him offspring who will run this country while you sleep with consorts-"

Nikolai grabbed his arm, bringing them both to a stop, and kept his eyes narrowed in on the sudden sweat on the man's brow. "Remember where you stand. You may be in the King's lap, but you will always be below me. You could never replace the emptiness at his side when I'm away. You are help, nothing more. Not his son, not his half, help." Nikolai released him with a gentle push. "I can walk myself to the King. Make yourself useful and get us refreshments for the table."

Turning back to the crowd with a fixed smile, he welcomed more guests along the way, and found himself standing before the King's table. He looked up to his father, cup up to his lips before he noticed his son.

Nikolai bowed his head before approaching the back of the table.

"Have you seen my esquire?" He asked.

"I believe he went to get you refreshments." Nikolai settled into his chair.

They'd settled in as more guests appeared, approaching the King's table with a bow or curtsey, and moving to open tables. The sheer volume of the room was booming, but it was nothing Nikolai wasn't used to.

The King leaned towards him while he was eating. "Do you see anyone who catches your eye?"

Nikolai didn't have his mind set on finding a suitor like his father was. His father, at his age, was in an arranged marriage with Nikolai's mother for wealth. Their families had been very wealthy, and together they could conquer whole hemispheres with their military strength. The only thing that Nikolai had his eye set on for the night was the bottom of his glass.

"Not currently, but I'm sure someone will." Nikolai flashed a feigned warm smile.

The King stared at the side of his face, contemplating on saying something that sat at the tip of his tongue. Something that has been lingering at the tip of his tongue for quite a while now.

The attention at the side of his face made Nikolai lift his head. He met his father's gaze. Curiosity circled in his eyes, and began drawing the blinds up over his expression. He thought to question his father, but the comment rolled back down his throat into nothingness.

Neither man said anything; the King turned his eyes forward to the crowd, and Nikolai was suspended in confused silence.

The party went on.

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Then came the dancing and introductory sessions.

Nikolai was placed at the center of the room, inviting new suitors into his arms as they danced with measured engagements. There was not a single minute he could have with one person, swapping out every single minute.

He felt like he was dizzy, like he'd drunk too much, and needed to sit down.

A beautiful woman was introduced into his arms again, and he withheld his urges to escape.

She smiled at him with such grace. "You don't look well."

"I don't feel well, but the show must go on." Nikolai flashed her a smile.

"You don't always have to listen to what your father tells you to do. You do know that, right?"

Nikolai furrowed his brow at the peculiar woman in his arms. "Did he send you to lead me off the path?" He asked and she only laughed.

She tipped her head back, and the skin of her neck looked so soft. Nikolai could have been tempted to press his lip to her pulse to feel the beat of her heart. "No, I'm only here because my father made me."

"Strange to give me such advice when you yourself aren't listening to it." Nikolai hummed.

"Yeah, well, it looks like the both of us don't want to be here, and yet here we are."

Nikolai stared at the twinkle in her eyes. He admired the crinkle at the corners when she smiled. "What's your name?"

"Kate."

"What an interesting name."

"I'd tell you my name is Katherine, but then it would be too formal."

"I hated Katherine anyways." He cocked his head aside.

"Kate is better.' She smiled. "Care to know what I plan on doing with my life?"

"Enlighten me." Nikolai hummed.

"I'm going to move away once I have enough money. I want to be a general."

"A war general?"

She nodded.

"Kate. You are one of the strangest women I've ever met to crave war."

"I was born of blood, and I feel comfort in it."

"Remind me to never marry you then."

"Don't. I have a flower waiting for me." She smiled proudly.

"Then congratulations, Kate. I wish you everything good, but don't stray too far, one day I might need you to run my army." Nikolai extended his hand out with hers grasped softly, bringing her knuckles to his lips to kiss.

The crowd began bickering and whispering. She'd been the first of his interest all night.

The King leaned forward in his seat.

"Have a good night, Prince Nikolai."

"Good night, Kate."

She moved away with such beauty that it was hard to stop thinking about her as she disappeared among the crowd. There were women after her who didn't quite catch his eye, but she had the love of another already. A dream set out before her, a life she'd planned to keep close to her heart on the battlefield.

He couldn't ruin that life for her.

Nikolai had returned to his seat, and the King leaned over once more to speak to him.

"So? Is there anyone yet?"

Nikolai sighed and shook his head. "No."

"What about that girl? The one with the blue dress you'd spoken to?"

"No. She's not the one for me. She's indecisive, and proud." Which was far from what she was, but he needed to say anything negative to detangle his father like a tick from him. "I couldn't have kids with someone like that."

The King deflated back in his seat with a troubled sigh. "Why don't you just pick one?"

"Did you just pick one?" Nikolai stared at the side of his father's tough face. "You had that planned out for you. You didn't have to do a thing."

"You watch your tone, boy." The King warned, making Nikolai small in his chair again. "If you do not make a choice by tonight, I will arrange a marriage for you whether you like the girl or not. This is about keeping the family name strong."

"It was never about happiness. Was it? It was always about wealth and power. That's all you ever see it for." Nikolai spewed towards the King.

"Marriage is an arrangement between two families. It is your duty to this kingdom to make sure that it remains decent and safe."

"Because you've done so well." Nikolai's tone was testy, hot to the touch just like the King's. He may have his mother's eyes, but he will always have his father's rage.

"I will deal with you after." The King bellowed deeply, like a predatory beast snarling and showing its teeth.

A messenger swiftly approached the backside of the table, kneeling before presenting the King a letter. Out of respect, he did not lift his head.

"This is not the time-"

"It is from one of your guests, your Grace. I apologize for the intrusion, but it was of urgency." The letter was only raised higher towards the King.

"By whom?" The King took the letter aggressively from the hands of the messenger, breaking the wax seal to peer at the still wet ink slathered on the page.

Nikolai stared in bafflement, as did the King, at the crude writing of: MURDERER

The King dropped the letter on the tabletop, "What is the meaning of this?" He uttered in disbelief.

The messenger stood slowly, and the more Nikolai stared, the more of him seemed to grow out. He was a massive man, wide and firm, having never missed a day's work or meal. He stared the King in the face with a black cloth pulled over his nose and mouth to conceal his face.

From across the room, the heavy doors from which everyone entered, were thrown open. The commotion was so abrupt that it caused the dancing to cease, for people to give cries of shock, and others to turn and block the path towards the King. But it was none other than the guards, so all was safe.

The King stood, fists pushed up on the tabletop. "What is this?" The King uttered.

The music hasn't yet stopped, still blaring in its awful cycle.

"An arrangement."

The King turned to the messenger and his bizarre answer. He only had the briefest of moments before he saw a flicker of a golden handle, and the heavy hand of the messenger laid flat against his chest.

With a polished dagger from his pocket, the messenger slipped the blade into the vital left side of the King's, pushing until the cross-guard met firmly with his body.

It was all so fast that time slowed at the moment of impact for Nikolai.

He watched his father's back hit the tabletop, the assassin's hand holding his clothes with such viciousness to keep him down. The chalice he'd been drinking out of only moments before was falling forward onto the ground on the other side of the table, spewing wine over the marble flooring. It fell like honey, thick and viscous, not only did it splatter slowly, but the cup flipped and rolled farther than imaginable.

The guards that had known trouble was afoot, who'd abruptly slammed open the doors, were shoving aside the crowd. Helpless to the weight of gravity and human bodies, they stumbled and skipped joyfully, it seemed, as the sharpened dagger dug through cloth and skin.

Nikolai's eyes scanned up the assassin's frame, seeing nothing but a hulking frame of a brute before him. Driving the knife in further until it hilted. Then he was turning. His pale skin was that of a corpse, his eyes were a browning liquidambar during the autumn equinox. So full of life, and bright.

He laid his eyes on Nikolai, as a warning, that if he rose from his chair, he too would meet the end of his blade.

- Then it all came back.

The clattering noise of running, the screams of the guests, the guards shouting, the gutted cries of his father.

The King's life had been threatened.

The castle had been compromised.

The Kingdom was in shambles.

Order had become no more than a whisper, and Chaos took it's place.

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a/n: idk if I want to continue this as an ao3 thing or continue it here and publish it over there when I'm done. lmk. I was also high-key listening to "Skyfall" as I was imagining Nikolai going through shock watching his father get stabbed, while everything slowed for him.

[clonerightsagenda]

hi! I found your answer to the anon who asked about library school super interesting and helpful.

I recently finished an anthropology/archaeology phd but am transitioning out of traditional academia and have been thinking about trying to get library work instead (among a slew of other options). I absolutely do not have a library degree though and and am wondering if you have any thoughts or advice about breaking into the library world if you have a different type of higher degree?

(feel free to ignore if you don't feel like answering though!)

For sure! I hope you don't mind me answering this publicly in case other people might find it helpful.

First of all, a higher non-library degree can be very helpful or even required for some library jobs. Many larger colleges and universities have subject liaison librarians, whose job involves developing the collection and working with students and faculty in a specific department or group of departments. Subject specialists often are required to have a masters (or higher) in that subject alongside their MLIS. Similarly, law librarians are often required to have a law degree. (This gives librarians with non-humanities backgrounds a real competitive edge. One guy I knew was always getting contacted by headhunters because his undergrad was in biology.) So if you're ok with staying in academia, that's an option, although those jobs are going to ask for an MLIS as well. Again, you might be able to start at a lower level and work up to the MLIS, or some places (probably smaller ones) might hire you as long as you've started the program.

Now with an anthro/archaeology background... you might consider some of libraries' cousins in the GLAM world - galleries, archives, museums, and historical societies. In archives and museums you often see people with MLISs rubbing shoulders with people who came into the career from a history background or something else connected to that institution's focus. These positions often involve a lot of research, writing, grant proposals, and networking, which can make a PhD skillset a good fit. I will warn you that many of these positions may be a bit ephemeral. Often museum and archives positions are grant-based or low paid. There are exceptions, but competition is likely to be fierce.

A last thing that comes to mind based on your background would be a professional researcher. Back when I interned at my local branch of the National Archives, there were often paid researchers coming in to go through records on behalf of their clients. (We had BIA records, and one guy was there trying to help a tribe make their case against the government.) I don't know what frequency of demand there is for that work, and I imagine it involves all the troubles of freelancing (marketing yourself, living off gigs, figuring out your own taxes, etc.) but your PhD would set you up for the research portion, at least! Speaking of which - congrats on finishing it! That is no small accomplishment.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Every Color Illuminates

1200 Words for 1200 Followers #1

A/N: Hi friends! Welcome to the 12-A-Palooza! This event is my way of saying thank you for sticking with me. Your support and kindness toward me and my writing is out of this world and I’m grateful for every last one of you! Kicking it off with a fun one today. I definitely just leaned HARD into this AU, so I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: none really, just a smidge of angst

Requested by: @haylzcyon - Song Choice: Spectrum - Character Choice: Marcus Pike (thank you SO MUCH for this one, Hayley!! I know he’s your numero uno, so I hope you enjoy this! 💚)

Summary: Your job keeps you surrounded by some of the most stunning pieces of art known to man. Too bad you can only see them - and the whole world for that matter - in black and white.

I need a break. 

Closing your eyes, you sank into your chair and sighed. It was only 11:30, but you were considering taking your lunch an hour early. You had no meetings that day, and your next tour wasn’t until 2. None of the emails in your inbox were so time sensitive that they couldn’t wait for you to get back.

I need to clear my head. 

The morning tour had been an inquisitive group, wringing you dry with questions and requests for detailed descriptions. They were precisely the kind of guests that you took the job as CA to accommodate - passionate, longing for connection, searching for understanding, new means of expression. You were proud to be the one to guide them, privileged to be the one that got to see them moved to tears when they found what they were looking for in the works in gilded frames or on marble pedestals. Art was a wide, wild world of beauty and sorrow, romance, revolution, pain and pleasure. The waters were deep for anyone to navigate, especially those who hadn’t matched and were limited to shades of gray. 

You were grateful to be able to gift them color, even if only for a few moments. Even if it left you feeling drained and achingly alone sometimes. 

As someone who still saw the world in grayscale, you were uniquely suited for the position. Everything that you knew about color had been painted for you by someone else, too. You were the first Graysight Color Ambassador that the National Gallery of Art had ever employed. If guest satisfaction surveys were any indication, you were also the best, Graysight or not. 

You loved your job, even when it reminded you that out of everyone you’d ever met, none of them had been your match. None of them had made such an impact on your life that your eyes had opened to the full spectrum of light and color. For as good as you were at translating hues into feelings, you’d never actually seen or felt them yourself. 

There were some days when you wondered if you ever would, or if you would remain in monochrome solitude forever. 

Not all matches were romantic. They happened whenever two souls that were meant to share their lives with one another met. Sometimes they were instantaneous, a flood of shining color crashing through both of you the moment your match said your name or touched your skin for the first time. Other times it was gradual, grays giving way to muted tints until eventually they became red, blue, orange, green and every variation and combination. 

You’d witnessed it happen, two people meeting for the first time at the museum - whether predetermined or by chance - and immediately being surrounded by colors, swaths of new sensations. You watched as people fell into one another’s arms, their faces seeming to glow with the knowledge that they had found their match, they had colored their world. And you were overjoyed for them when it happened - like it had that morning in your Graysight tour of the Rothko exhibit. 

That didn’t make it easier, that happiness you felt for others who found their way out of the shadows while you were still relegated to them. 

I just need to go for a walk. 

You’d been in your office for less than five minutes, and were about to leave it again to take your break when you heard a knock. The director’s voice accompanied the sound, your name coming through the mahogany door that you knew was a reddish brown but could only see as grayish black. “Are you in there?” 

Yes, but I don’t want to be. 

Trying not to groan, you rubbed your eyes and nodded, giving your response. “Yeah, Michelle.” You dropped your hands to your desktop, releasing a breath.”Come on in.” 

“Oh, good, I-” The door swung open and your boss appeared, her face falling when her eyes landed on yours. “You okay?” She came into your office and closed the door behind her, forehead furrowed in concern. “Your eyes are red.”

You waved one hand and gave her a smile that you hoped would cover the sting you still felt. “There was a match on the morning tour.” Rolling your still-watery eyes, you let out a stunted laugh. “Always gets me, you know?” 

That seemed to be a good enough response, Michelle’s lop-sided frown being replaced by a grin. “Oh! Wonderful!” 

“Yeah.” You nodded, melancholy still lingering in your chest. “It was.” Clearing your throat, you blinked. “I was thinking of taking my break early today, unless you needed something?” 

Please say no. 

“Actually-” 

Fuck.

“I know you just finished the Rothko exhibit, and I know it’s hard for you to dive right back in, but-” She sucked air through her teeth. “There’s someone who needs a private tour ASAP, and I need you on this one.” 

Your silence spoke for you, so she went on. 

“The FBI is sending someone from their art crimes department.” She shook her head, gesturing with one hand. “They’re investigating a fraud case, but the Agent in charge isn’t familiar enough with real Rothkos to be able to spot the fakes, so he needs a crash course. Since we’re the closest museum currently showing the collection…” She trailed off, shrugging. 

You tried not to wince. “Michelle, can’t Charlie or one of the regular guides take him through?” 

She clicked her tongue. “Sorry, but it has to be you.” Before you could ask why, she continued. “The Agent requested our Graysight CA.” 

That means… 

You assumed someone working for the FBI’s art crimes division would have to have matched, would need to see color. But then, most people would say the same about you and your profession. It seemed that you had at least one thing in common. 

“O-okay. What time?” 

She tilted her head from one side to the other, giving you a sheepish look. “He’s here now.” 

Oh.

Standing, you smoothed out your top - a blue one, or so the label told you. “Well, can’t keep the FBI waiting, right?” 

You followed Michelle down to the roped off exhibit. “He’s right through there. When you’re finished, take the rest of the day off. Charlie can do your 2:00.” 

With that she left, and then you saw him. 

A tall, broad shouldered man in a dark suit walked towards you. Even from a distance you could tell that he had a kind face. His eyes started smiling before his lips did, but they caught up as soon as he was in front of you. 

“Agent Marcus Pike.” He introduced himself, right hand extended for you to shake. 

You smiled and told him your name. 

But the moment he repeated it back to you, when your palms met, both of you gasped as the room around you exploded in prismatic color. 

Brown. His eyes are brown. 

“Marcus?” You whispered his name as purple and red swam in your peripheral, safe and warm overwhelming your thoughts. “I… don’t think you need me to-“

“No. I do.” He said your name again to send another shimmering rush through you. “I definitely do.” 

.

.

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list, please feel free to let me know. You can also fill out the form on my Masterlist! :)

Tags: @something-tofightfor @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @alraedesigns @practicalghost @tanzthompson @amb11 @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth @swtaura @thescarletfang @trickstersp8 @princessxkenobi @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @pedro-pedrito-pascalito @jedi-in-crocs @hannahkatharinee

[yuncheoligans]

~Beautiful Stranger~

Pairing: Yunho x Reader. (The guys are involved at some point too but not romantically.) NonIdol! AU

Description: A lonely perpetually single grad student working at a museum is approached by a handsome man, he looks expensive. Maybe this is your chance to get swept off your feet. Maybe he wants something else.

Warnings: I don't censor myself so I don't censor the characters, so Language warning. Let me know if I missed anything.

taglist: @legohwa, @hwaightme

~Masterlist~

~Series Masterlist~

a/n: Okay! I was originally going to make this a one-shot but I think I have too much storyline in my head to make it that way so Surprise! Series time! I'm really excited about this one so please let me know what you guys think, I'm having so much fun writing it already.

Also yes the Teaser is included at the beginning of the chapter, I added some stuff to it so I just put it in.

w/c: 4258

Chapter One: Handsome Stranger

The blaring sound of my morning alarm disturbs the dreams of a man sweeping me off my feet, his voice no longer sweet as honey but now Kick It by NCT 127. I guess I’m getting introduced to some New Thangs today  So it was going to be that kind of day, no school but long hours at work as a gallery attendant but also archivist in training, the latter being an unpaid internship…of course. Yeah, long day. I got up, finally silencing my alarm and pulling myself out of my full sized bed, the only luxury I could afford on my own, to drag myself down the hallway to our shared bathroom and brush my teeth. Let’s hope I’m awake enough to remember not to drink Orange Juice again as I look for breakfast. Now how long until I have to catch my train? And if I miss it how long until the bus? It’s not a terrible walk but I need to eat. Maybe I can get to Uni from here. Why does London have to be so confusing!

I’m not originally from the UK but my parents moved back and forth for a variety of things while I was growing up so it’s like a second home. I came here for my graduate program in Art History and made a few friends…moved in with them and now there’s 5 people in an apartment made for 3. We all go to University College London and live off campus in the cheapest place we could find. I was fortunate enough to get a job and internship at The National Gallery here. I’m lucky and I can pay rent but that’s about it, I’m by no means well off and trust me I could use a few extra of any sort of money. 

“You’re up early y/n” William, my flatmate’s boyfriend said passing by the open door.

“Work.” was all I mumbled as I head back to my room to pick out my outfit for the day. I stayed up writing this stupid research paper all night and what do I have to show for it…the not so designer bags under my eyes. Most days are filled with a plethora of alarms going off around the same time, lucky for my flatmates, I’m the only one with work today I guess. Alright, which combination of suit pants, blouse, and jacket am I going to wear today…All Black? All Black. I finished setting everything out before heading downstairs to eat just in case I got something on my shirt again. Last time I decided to make this beautiful breakfast sandwich with a runny egg and it broke onto the bright pink blouse I had picked for the day on the tube going to work, my boss was not happy about the spill. Did I cry, yeah…hey the saying is crying over spilt milk not spilt eggs.

“Oh hi y/n!” my other flatmate's girlfriend Emma cheerily said. “I’m just making Becks some breakfast do you want any?”

“Sure Ems…thanks.” I nodded. If I didn’t have to cook I wasn’t going to complain. Oh that’s the other thing you should know, I’m the only one single in this apartment anymore…or flat. Whatever you want to call it. 

The two sleeping while their partners roam around are my best friends for 2 years, Becka (Rebecca) and Liz (Elizabeth), I only use their full names when I’m angry at them, there have been plenty of arguments in the small confinement of our apartment. There’s 2 bedrooms upstairs, one above the living room, one above the downstairs bedroom, the bathroom is in between the two and just up the set of stairs. Downstairs is the living room, and subsequent dining area. Kitchen is just through to the back and off to the right is bedroom number 3. Yes we all share one bathroom, no it’s not as fun as it sounds. I live in the room at the front of the place above the living room. I was going to take the downstairs room because I came home late and didn’t want to wake anyone until Liz and Will got together, when they started dating they went at it like rabbits. Becka offered to switch with me since she was barely home to begin with, she and Emma had just started dating so she was with her a lot, at school doing lengthy research papers, or at her internship at the hospital. Her internship slowed down so she had a lot of time to be home and spend time with the love of her life. They’re cute don’t get me wrong…just unfortunate to be the only one single here. 

“Thanks again Ems.” I said cleaning the plate I used as I got up to finally get dressed. “It was really good, Becka is lucky to have you.”

“I certainly am.” said woman came into the room perking up at her partner. “Thank you again love.”

“I’ll be going before that breakfast makes a fast journey back up.” I laughed receiving a towel to the face. I put on the outfit I had picked out, touched up my hair so I didn’t look like I was coming out of bed, and set off for the day. Thankfully I didn’t miss my train so it was only 45 minutes to get to work. I know that sounds like a lot but it’s not so bad when you’re used to it. I get to listen to music and relax a little more before starting a long long day.

The opening of a museum is never exciting, there’s probably 10 maybe 15 guests in the first 3 hours of opening, not much to do, luckily the museum lets me work on my internship first on these long days so I’m not bored out of my mind by the time I’m done. I usually clock in around lunch time finally and sit or stand around for the rest of the day depending on what they want me to do that day. 

“Y/n” you’re going to be in Room 43 today.” my boss Henry looked at me.

“Well at least I get to look at some of my favorites today.” I sighed, knowing I was going to be on my feet for the rest of the day was not something to invoke joy. Room 43 on Level 2 had our Van Gogh, Gauguin, and Seurat paintings, most notably Sunflowers by Van Gogh, Van Gogh’s Chair, and Motherhood by Picasso. One of my favorites was-

“A Vase of Flowers, Paul Gauguin,” said the smoothest voice I’ve ever heard. Like butter melting on bread.

“Yes, one of my favorites in the room.” I smiled before turning towards the man. My breath hitched, there before me stood a man about 6 foot 1, dressed in a suit that looks like I don’t know how to pronounce the designers name, oxford shoes, no tie,his nose had a slight point to it, a jawline that looked like it was sculpted by Michelangelo, full eyebrows, his eyes soft and warm, finally his black hair. He was perfect, absolutely stunning, I wanted to look at him more than the art around me.

“Can you tell me about it?” he smiled.

“Oh, yes absolutely.” Anything to talk to him. “Painted by Gauguin in 1896, painted with Oil Paints-”

“Ah so it needs something breathable to not ruin the paints?” he smiled. “When transported for cleaning?”

“Yes, since oils are very hard to fix if damaged and excess moisture can ruin them like the whole water and oil thing... So um anyways, Paul Gauguin painted 'A Vase of Flowers' when he arrived in Tahiti for his second stay in 1895. The vase is bursting with exotic flowers including hibiscus, white and yellow frangipani and white tiare. The flowers look as though they are past their best as some blossoms have fallen onto the table. This suggests that Gauguin was not interested in the horticultural detail but instead the decorative shapes and interweaving of colors of the display.”

“Very interesting.” his smile grew. “Sorry one of my friends is very interested in this piece but I never knew what it was painted with.”

“Excuse me ma’am.” an older woman called my attention. “I had a question about this piece.”

“Oh, well I’m glad I could help sir. I’m y/n.” I shook his hand. “Please let me know if you have more questions.I’ll um..be over there” I nodded, giving him time to look at the painting. A handsome stranger interested in learning about one of my favorite pieces…he’s probably married. I’m going to be alone forever.

“Thank you beautiful.” he flashed a smile my way. 

The beautiful stranger hung around for quite some time staring at the piece, he even had a notebook where he wrote some notes and made a sketch of the painting. No I wasn’t staring at him…okay maybe I totally was but it’s not everyday you see someone that attractive in here, he was practically an art piece himself. No I wasn’t fantasizing about him taking me away in some fancy car with the engine revving going way to fast down the street to a fancy restaurant where the prices aren’t even on the menu and he tells me not to worry about it and to order what I like, he’d probably call me something cheesy like baby, honey, sweetheart, dear, starlight, honey bun….darling…his. NO! Oh my god you can’t fantasize about that stuff he asked you a question. You really are deprived. 

Work was the same as ever after the man left, I was stuck making sure no one touched the art until the museum closed and then I got to go home after clocking out. Back to the happy couples…I put on my earbuds and walked to the station, after staring at someone all day I wasn’t really ready to be reminded I was single forever. Oh well, no choice…maybe I’ll stop and get food and just head up to my room so they won’t notice.

“Hey y/n!” a voice yelled in the tunnel. “Aww hey do you have your earbuds in?” he tapped my shoulder.

“I have mace!” I whipped around feeling someone tap me. Oh. “Wooyoung! Don’t scare me that way!” I hit him gently and took my earbuds out.

“Heading home?” he asked.

“Yeah, I just got off work.”

“I was hoping you were going to say a date,” he sighed.

“Can’t find one. I stare at paintings from the 1800s all day.” I chuckled and nudged him. “Let me know if you find Degas or Van Gogh walking around, I’m pretty sure I know more about them than myself at this point.”

“I’ll be sure to point them your way.” he smiled. “Not even one of your coworkers huh?”

“I went out for drinks a while ago with David but he was so boring, no spice you know. Plus he’s one of those water is too spicy guys.”

“Oh yeah, ew.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just always going to be single. I just want someone…who’s a little interesting you know?”

His eyes lit up, he had heard that sentence a few days ago from someone else, he knew what to do.

“Well maybe I have this friend?” he started.

“Oh god not matchmaker Woo again.” I rolled my eyes as we got on the train.

“Hey look I really thought you two would hit it off.”

“Woo he just wanted to make his ex jealous…and I ended up with a ruined dress and a large bill.”

“I apologized and paid you back for his meal. I’m sorry!”

“I know you did.”

“Okay but seriously, this guy is one of my best friends, he’s got some money, he’s actually single single, like hasn’t had a partner in years single, he likes art, he’s tall, he’s not a scumbag, and he’s interesting. I promise you’ll like him.” he pleaded.

“Woo I just-”

“Pleaseeee just one date and then if you don’t like him you can tell me to fuck off whenever you want, please please please!”

“Okay okay fine…one date. Just…one ok?” I sighed. I trust Wooyoung. I do. He's a good friend, great even…his matchmaking skills are just…hit or miss.

“You won’t regret it, and be sure to thank me at the wedding!” he got up at his stop.

“Woo there won’t-!” the doors closed… “be a wedding.” I groaned. Just what have I gotten myself into.

“Hey sour puss what’s with the face?” Liz asked as I came in.

“Ran into Wooyoung on the train.”

“Oh how’s he doing? Also what did he do, you’re not in a bad mood every time you see him” she smiled. “Will is in the bathroom.” I motioned to head up and stopped at her words

“He begged me to go on a blind date with someone he knows.”

“Oh god because that worked out so well last time.” she smiled.

“What did?” Becka came into the room.

“Woo set y/n up on a blind date…again.” Liz smiled.

“Oh god, you have my number I will come get you.” Becka chuckled.

“He promised it wouldn’t be as bad this time but I don’t know I’m still worried.” I rubbed my arm. “He did apologize for last time but still…that was so bad.”

“Do you know anything about this one?” Liz asked.

“Apparently he’s tall, very single, likes art, and has money?” I said remembering what Wooyoung told me on the train.

“Ooo tall handsome rich single man?” They both chuckled. “How does Wooyoung know someone like that?”

“Beats me honestly, but I said I would try…even though I regret it already.”

“And when is said date?” Becka asked.

“Dunno….he’ll probably text me about it later.” I sighed. “I mean I guess it couldn’t be too bad to try.”

“It’s probably worse to trust Woo than to go on the date.” Liz smiled and Will came down.

“Who’s got a date?” he asked.

“y/n” Liz said and made room on the couch for her boyfriend.

“Oh y/n has a date?” Emma sat next to Becka.

“I’m off to bed, it looks like a date night.” I waved. 

No need to be reminded I’m still…very much single.

~~~~~~~~~

“Hyung Hyung Hyungie Hyung-ah Hyunghyunghyung” Wooyoung began annoying the older man at his desk.

“Yes Wooyoung?” Yunho looked up from his computer, blueprints and notes scattered around the desk. “Do you need another reference photo or something?”

“No no that’s fine, it’s all coming together.” Wooyoung brushed the man off. “I found you the perfect date!”

“Woo we’ve talked about this, I don’t date.” he sighed.

“No no listen really, she's perfect for you, she’s single and lives with two other couples so she’s practically begging to get out, she doesn’t ask a lot of questions, she knows a bunch about art and everything.”

“Wouldn’t that make it easier for us to get caught Wooyoung? She could tell fakes from the real ones?”

“Nah her eyesight is too bad for that unless she’s up close and personal. She could help us out with transporting them properly, you know, how to keep them undamaged. Plus she’s really pretty, you’d like her…oh and she’s funny, sarcastic, looks good on your arm at a party.”

“Why don’t you date her then?”

“Oh hyung don’t be silly, you’re the one getting old, you need to settle down, don’t you want to spend time with someone, you know spend some of that money on them, have someone besides us…help relieve some stress?”

“We’re the same age Wooyoung.” he closed his laptop.

“Oh no, my birthday is in November, yours just passed.”

The room got quiet.

“You’re not letting this go until I say yes are you?”

“Oh come on just one date! You’ll like her, I bet you’ll even get married come on! Please please please please please please please please please please please please pleasepleasepleaseplease-”

“Okay!!...Okay fine, just one date, and we’re not-” Wooyoung left. “Getting married…”

Yunho couldn’t help but think of the beautiful stranger he met at the museum earlier, he caught her staring a few times but couldn’t bring himself to say more in case she got suspicious, but man did he want to, her smile was infectious, her clothing choices mimicked his own, she knew about the art he wanted…but he’s a criminal, no one would ever want to be with a criminal, it’s not that he can’t do the time he just wouldn’t want to drag someone else into it, although he certainly wouldn’t mind coming out to that beautiful face…if he ever got caught that is, he has no plans on making that a reality. 

“One date.” he sighed to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~

I smoothed over the dress I chose for tonight, Wooyoung couldn’t wait to text me and tell me his friend said yes. Why did I bother saying yes this is…no let’s..let’s be hopeful, maybe he’ll be nice, and funny, and hopefully a little good-looking….please Wooyoung…don’t do this to me.

“You look gorgeous y/n!” Emma and Liz squealed, their partners on the couch. 

“We definitely won’t be seeing you tonight.” Becka chuckled.

“Oh please I’m definitely not going to sleep with this guy, it’s the first date and it’s a Wooyoung blind date.” I rolled my eyes.

“I mean if he’s lucky we won’t see you tonight.” Liz laughed. “He’ll certainly only have his eyes on you this time.”

“One can hope” I groaned. “I better go, I don't want to show up late.” I grabbed my purse and a long black coat to keep warm. Of course there’s a hole in the pocket…I really need to get this fixed. 

“It’s going to be warm out, just forget the coat and get it fixed later.” Liz called out. “Go go! You’ll be late.”

It feels weird to walk around the city in just a dress and heels, I feel a little exposed but it’s not any different from the other people I’ve seen I guess…I made my way to the station to go to the restaurant Wooyoung had picked out, he told me to dress fancy so I got the fanciest dress I could. Black and white, a little lace, elegant but not over the top, stops at the knee, a cute little black heel and my hair pulled up into one of those fancy buns. Hopefully I remembered my glasses this time in my bag.

When Jung Wooyoung says fancy restaurant he wasn’t kidding, I’m pretty sure an appetizer here costs my entire rent, there’s not even prices on the menu how am I supposed to afford-

“Miss y/n?” A voice called. Sounds….familiar?

“Yes?” I turned around and it was the guy from the museum. “Oh hello.” I blushed

“It’s nice to see you again, are you waiting for someone?”

“My um..my friend set me up on this..silly blind date.” I chuckled lightly.

“How funny me too.” he smiled. “I wouldn’t be rude to assume you know a Jung, Wooyoung?”

“That would be the one.” I nodded gently.

“Well how funny would it be if I told you the very person sent me here on a silly blind date as well?”

“Well I suppose that would be…quite nice actually.” I sighed. “Last time I let him talk me into this…it didn’t go well.”

“Ah I know the feeling. She went after her ex after spending 30 minutes with me.” he chuckled.

“Ironic, mine used me to get back with his ex.”

“Now isn’t that just something.” he offered his hand to me. “Shall we go in?”

“How gentlemanly.” I let out a chuckle.

“Oh I’m Yunho by the way, Jeong Yunho.” 

“Oh a James Bond type I see. Last name first.” I chuckled. “Y/n L/n. Sorry I went the other way.”

“Oh god!” they both thought. “It’s you from the museum! What should I do?...stay calm, it’s just a date.”

I never thought I’d thank Wooyoung for setting me up on a date but, I might after this one…he’s so…he’s almost too perfect to be true, he’s interested in what I do, he’s charming, funny, he’s handsome…I..I almost feel like I’m dreaming. I’m pinching myself and not waking up so this has to be real, please be real. If this is a prank Wooyoung I’m never speaking to you again. 

“I should warn you beautiful, I’m quite dangerous.” he chuckled

“Oh are you now? Maybe I should’ve brought a bat.”

Time felt forgotten, it passed by so fast but so slow. Before we knew it the restaurant was closing and asking us to leave.

“Oh don’t worry about the bill.” he waved his hand at me reaching for my wallet. “It’s on me tonight.”

“I couldn’t possibly let you-”

“I insist beautiful.” he smiled and handed the waiter his card….A Black Credit Card!??!?! Oh my god.

“Next time is on me.” I said my cheeks were heating up. “A-As long as it’s pizza.” I joked…not really.

“Pizza sounds perfect if you’re there.” he winked. Oh man he is dangerous. “Can I walk you home? Or perhaps drive you?” he beeped his car…his very expensive silver car. A Rolls Royce?

“Oh my god.” I whispered. “What do you do?” I laughed.

“Oh I just inherited a lot of money from my uncle.”

“Oh sure, do you sell organs on the black market?” I nudged him gently.

“Oh no way, blood freaks me out.” he laughed. “I invest.”

“Sure.” I smiled and got in the car.

“Where to?” he asked.

“Oh right.” I gave him my address and we were off. It was bittersweet driving with him, I really didn’t want it to end yet. If this was going to be my only date with Yunho then…I just wanted to feel special for a little while longer. “Um, would you mind if we made a short stop first? It’s just…a really nice night out and I don’t want to…with my roommates and all.”

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind staying out myself.” he smiled.

“There’s a park just up ahead.” I said bashfully. “We could just…walk around?”

“I like that idea.” he pulled over to the park and before I could even think about opening my door he had sprinted around the car to open it.

“Ever the gentleman.” I stepped out and he offered his arm.

We walked around the park for a little just continuing our conversations from earlier, he shared about his childhood days, some of the stuff he and his brother used to do, his friends and how he met Wooyoung. It was all great until a breeze swept through.

“Here.” he shrugged off his coat and pulled it around me. “Better?” he smiled and his touch on me lingered slightly.

“Better.” I whispered and looked at him. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” he cleared his throat and pulled back slightly. 

It was close to 11pm when we finally decided we had been out long enough, I would hopefully not get hazed about the date and he would hopefully be able to go back to whatever he wanted. Even if it was just one date, it felt like a million and it just felt wonderful.

“Oh your coat.” I started taking it off as we pulled up to my little flat.

“Just give it to me next time Beautiful.” he smiled and put his hand up to stop me.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded.

I leaned over the center console and kissed his cheek leaving a slight pink imprint there.

“Goodnight Yunho, thank you for the…probably most perfect night of my life listening to me talk about work.” I smiled and got out of the car. I’ll miss him.

“Goodnight Beautiful.” he smiled more to himself as he drove off when she walked in her front door.

Did I receive the interrogation of a lifetime? Yes absolutely.

Could I stop smiling? No..Not at all. He listened to me ramble about work and school and how overwhelming it is, he listened to me talk about different paints and how to preserve them and take care of them like it was the most interesting thing he ever heard. I almost hate him for how perfect he is.

“Jung Wooyoung, I'm going to kill you.” I said as he picked up the phone.

“What?! Why!? What happened!?” he sat up on the other line.

“How could you literally give me that after all the shit dates you’ve set me up on!”

“Was it bad? You guys have been out for hours!”

“No! It was amazing! I can’t believe you!” I groaned and flopped onto my bed. “He was…kind and sweet and charming and caring and…everything and I hate you for it.”

“...BECAUSE I WAS RIGHT???”

“BECAUSE YOU WERE RIGHT!” I sat up. “Why did you have to be right!?”

“Because I’m amazing, excuse you. You liked him.”

“Yes.”

“You liked him a lot?”

“Wooyoung I literally would drop everything right now to just listen to his laugh.” I sighed. “It's pathetic.”

“I’ll let you know what he says, I just heard the front door.”

“No Wooyoung please, it's fine. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” I sighed. “I’ll have to give you his coat too.”

“He gave you his coat? Oh my god. See marriage.”

“Goodnight Woo.”

“I’m the matchmaker god after all.”

“Goodnight! Woo.” I hung up. I hate this.

I hate men.

`Next

[melodygatesauthor]

Weekly Update - 06/11/2023

(Just realized I forgot to post this yesterday hehe)

As a reminder, I do weekly updates. You can see the original post here for details on what will be in these!

Updates Below the Cut:

Long/Chaptered Fic Updates

A Bit Dodgy - There WILL be an update tomorrow! 06/13/2023. We have chapter 12 incoming!

----

Mini-series Updates

Blue = should be posted this week

Pink = In progress actively (working on but will not be posted this week)

Red = Backburner Fic (not working on this week - will work on a later date)

The Fractured Moon - currently working on These Fractured Knights (TFM Bonus Chapters) 🫣😏 - No new updates this week though.

Feeling You Can't Fight is DEFINITELY coming out this week on Wednesday! I was hoping to post it last week but I didn’t get around to editing it! My goal will be to put out a chapter a week for the next 6 weeks for this one (fingers crossed - will post more often if I finish the chapters sooner than that) but we will see!

Summary

You are the new staff manager for the National Art Gallery in London, replacing the prior manager who you'd heard was unpleasant to work for...and that was putting it kindly.

When you meet the nervous, but friendly, gift shop clerk, you can't help but fall for him almost immediately. When it becomes clear that you can't shake this desire to give Steven everything he deserves and more, you can only hope that he feels the same way about you in return.

It WILL include the other two boys as well. - Coming this week

Working on a secret series based on a series of artwork done by an artist in the community. Hoping to have that out this week! - Coming out this week! (I hope)

Not a Doctor - I’ve been asked by a few people, and I personally have been considering it for a while, doing a part 2 to this fic! It won’t be coming out this week, but it’s in the works! (Still in the planning stages)

Worth the Risk - taking a small step back from this for now. It’s not at the top of my inspiration list so I’m moving it down the line temporarily. - will work on a later date

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Requests Updates

Let’s have a chat about requests guys. So I’ve been really making an effort to work on them, and I’ve been struggling to feel inspired to work on it at this moment in time, and it’s been a little stressful. That being said, I’m going to do a couple of things to simplify this for myself (this does not include things I asked for like Nathan Bateman requests or the 1k drabbles):

1. I’m going to keep them shorter. I think I set up an expectation for myself (and maybe for you guys too) that I’ll be writing lengthy fics for the requests. I’m going to keep them under 2k going forward unless I find it exceptionally inspiring. Please don’t think that your request is bad if I don’t write a longer fic, please just understand that it's all in an effort to manage my time more.

2. I’ll do a bigger post regarding this point once I have a minute to think about it more, but I’m not going to be opening requests again after I finish these ones. As I’ve grown and my work (like my real life job) has gotten busier, this has become a lot to manage all the while continuing to explore my OWN thoughts and ideas. I LOVE giving back to the community and writing for you guys, but it's turned into something that's bringing me anxiety and pressure to perform and that's not how my hobby should feel. - This doesn't mean I won't ever have my inbox or like event drabble requests open and things like that, this is just for regular requests. Like I said, I'll elaborate more in another post.

3. I'm GOING TO FINISH THE REQUESTS BELOW. Some of you had submitted multiples so I'm going to only commit to one of them. Anons, I'm sorry but I'm going to cut you loose. I love you, but I have to let some things go. (Except for the Nathan request since I asked for it and I still haven't ever written for Nathan.)

I hope you all can understand where I'm coming from, and I appreciate your support so so so much. I'm sure there are other writers who have open requests who would love to take over if I end up not doing yours. <3

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If your request is in blue, that means I'm going to try to work on it this week (06/11-06/17). If it's in pink, I'm going to try to work on it a different week. It's taking me a while to get into the headspace for some of them so thank you for your patience. Green means it's done I'm just working on editing now.

Blue Jones X f!Reader requested by @saraicus

There are 2 prompts in particular that I liked from the list you sent so I'll be doing them. - His eyeliner running down as he’s banging you against his desk.

Moon Boys X f!Reader by @simpforbritgents

Asking for something like Feeling Flustered where the moon boys are doing guided phone sex.

Moon Boys X f!Reader by @mercuryrosesixx

Moon Boys w/ a f!Reader w/ nipple piercings.

Marc Spector X f!Reader by @blueflowerhat

Marc shower sex based on AI prompt.

Doctor Marc Spector X Patient Reader by @burnincrown

Role Reversal (sort of) of Not a Doctor - Marc is the doc, reader is the patient and he takes advantage - Dark Fic - I'M MOVING THIS ONE UP TO MINI-SERIES. It's going to be a long time in the works, and it will probably replace TFM when that one is done so I'm going to put this one up further on next week's update and I will credit you for inspo but I'm not going to necessarily consider it a request since I've been developing quite the lengthy outline for it lol. - Work on it a different week

Nathan Bateman X f!Reader by @campingwiththecharmings

This is the prompt that hit me like a Nathan-shaped mac truck! -> “if you don’t like my teasing why are you moaning”

Nathan Bateman X f!Reader by Anon

Cam girl reader x Nathan - Nathan turns to a cam girl, he's been kinda stalking her. (Excited hehe)

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That's all for now guys! I love you all and thank you so much for all the support you continue to give no matter what. You're amazing <3

[madwomansapologist]

Moonlight Meets Sunlight | Chapter 1 - Shoot for the moon

Navigation | Series Masterlist | AO3

series synopsis: A lot changed for Steven Grant after meeting Marc Spector. He lost his job, travelled the world, became a hero. And now back in London he's going to change one more thing: Steven will give love a chance. He can only hope that you accept him. And Marc, and Konshu, and what he hasn't discovered yet about himself.

first chapter synopsis: Steven Grant wasn't the same. Not after he met Marc Spector and ending up saving the world (he isn't bragging). Steven understood that he was braver than he ever thought he was. But not around you. And i's not like he wants to change that. [3.7K]

warnings: fluff. falling in love. steven "i can treat you better" grant. first date? bit by bit we fall in love. canon level of violence. moon boys x reader. female!reader. latina!reader.

Steven Grant had been waiting for over two hours, but he was some sort of expert on keeping himself entertained. He wandered through the National Art Gallery’s exit, listed all different strategies to solve a Rubik’s cube, chattered to an uninterested Marc about the documentary he watched that same morning.

And still, a few times Steven thought about going home. Maybe you weren’t working that day. You could be on vacation. Or you could’ve went home before he got there. For all he knows, you could not even work here anymore.

“That’s her car, dumbass,” a pair of furrowed brows and concerned eyes oscillated in a storefront on the other side of the street. Everytime Steven stands, thinking that this time he really should go, Marc Spector shuts him down. “Just sit down and wait, for god's sake.” 

Steven knew he was right. The black sedan was right there, the only car parked close to the hidden service door. Steven noticed it, and he knew for sure that it was yours because of the huge risk on the passenger’s door. And still, his nervousness made him forget.

It's not that he doesn't want to be there. Steven spent the last few weeks constantly thinking about you. About seeing you again. Talking to you. Laughing with you. Just existing, being there, but with you. With his first real friend. All Steven wanted was to see you again, to hear your voice.

And it was you whom he feared the most.

It has been weeks. For Steven it was the most bizarre and marvelous time of his life. But for you he just vanished. Got fired for destroying a bathroom and then… nothing. Nothing for weeks. Steven was gone in the same way he's back: without a good, reasonable explanation.

Steven Grant has been waiting for two hours and that would make anyone upset, but he's sure you waited longer.

He feared you wouldn't ever look again into his eyes again. That you would hear his voice and turn your back on him, as if he's a ghost you need to believe don’t exist. Steven feared your grudge and rage, but he also feared the possibility that you haven’t even notice his absence. That maybe all you felt towards him was indifference, and his delicate heart mistoke it for a real human conection.

"She don’t. And she wouldn’t do any of that to you," Marc crooned. Even away from him, Steven could see those crossed arms and tense eyes. Browns so used to look like a straight line. Once again, here comes Marc to end his doubts.

"And how can you be so sure of that, mate?"

"She isn't mean," Marc replied, looking away.

Marc didn’t want to here, and Steven knows that. He made clear it was a Steven’s problem. He was only there because Steven begged for it. Steven knew that if he needed to be alone with his thoughts about you, their organs could get really near a spontaneous combustion.

When they finally decided to cooperate with one another, Steven understood that most of Marc’s choices were done to protect him. To keep him safe and sound, unaware of anything that could maim him. Is not that Steven is weak, but that he’s gentle. He’s kind. And Marc needs to keep that as it is. Marc needs to keep Steven pure, because no one did that for him.

The only problem is that he’s used to leave people clueless about his decisions.

Like leaving London. Steven didn’t have a say on that. He didn’t chose to travel. To fight Harrow. To leave you behind just as clueless as he was. To vanish without a word. Without a goodbye. Without saying what he really wanted to say since he understood your soul.

For some time he thought Marc hated you. He could’ve at least send you a message. A good lie or a bad one, it didn’t matter. He could’ve at least texted you. Knowing about Steven’s feelings towards you, Marc could’ve done anything expect leaving the way he did. If Marc was indifferent about you, he could’ve think that Steven wasn’t and just done something.

But if he’s here, if he’s even helping, that means Marc doesn’t actually hates you. Or that he at least don’t see you as a threat to Steven’s heart.

Hearts are made to be broken, he said to Marc once they finally got back to London. Marc got used to see him as the naive, but Steven is more than people think. More than himself thinks. It’s a hard pill for you to swallow, but you will. You have no other option.

A gentle breeze made Steven breath in, relaxing against the cold concrete wall. He don’t remember closing his eyes, but he opened them after the thump of a closing door. And when his eyes started working again, Steven saw you.

Steven couldn’t see your face, but he was absolutely sure that the person running down stairs with a cardboard box in hands was you. He could recognize you anywhere. Your lingering scent, the way you walk like you’re alway running out of time. The fact you were arguing through the phone wedge between your shoulder and your face helped just a bit.

“That’s bullshit. I didn’t said that, and you know it,” you yelled. In your defense, you were supossed to be alone. It was too for someone else to be Around the staff’s exit. “There’s nothing you can say that would make up for the fact that you can’t do a simple thing for me. All you had to do was to show up.”

It was already difficult to walk with that immense box in your hands, but to do it while you were boiling with rage? That’s a whole other thing. You managed to not fall, and that was a hell of a accomplishment.

“You’re always telling me I should let you in my life, but if I can’t count on you it’s all your fault,” you replied searching for your keys. You chocked on your words, so fucking mad you felt tears forming in your eyelids. “Go on. Blame me for your mistakes.”

By the time you managed to open the passenger seat’s door and settle the box there, your left arm ache because of the weight. You touched the collar that muzzled you. The sun pendant dangled from your neck, so heavy. When you were about to take it off, you heard the audacity on his voice.

You closed the door so hard that it startled Steven.

“Damn man,” Marc hissed. “Your timing is awful.”

“You really gonna do this to me? Isso só pode ser brincadeira.” You walked towards the driver seat, squeezing your purse so hard it could explode. “Do as you wish, but then don’t get surprised to find out that you’re single.”

Without hearing what he had to say, you ended the call. He don’t want to argue? That’s fine. Now he won’t hear about you at all. Fuck him, fuck his bad habits and fuck you for falling for his sweet lies.

Jeff is always saying that he’s the one, that you need to trust him with your bad days and worst sides, that he wanted to meet your parents, your friends, your colleagues. That he’s more than just a guy, that he’s your future.

When the greek department decided to celebrate the new acquisitions, you thought it would be a perfect way to let him in. It was an important event. You even made a speech. A Whole speech, one that people actually wanted to hear. It was an important night for you, one that you wanted to share with him.

Here you are. With a dress too expensive, a blurred makeup and a mouth tired of repeating there was a change of plans, he won’t be able to get here in time.

How can you keep on being the foolish one? The one that knows what people want. The one who acts as sweet and kind and fun even when no one gives you a reason to. The one that fake smiles for the pictures with burning eyes.

What a night. What a fucking night. And now you need to drive, which is something you hate, and at home your company will be that box filled with documents and receipts. And wine. A lot of wine.

“Is everything alright?”

You jumped at the sudden revelation that you weren’t alone, your hands instintictively rising to your chest. Even before you saw him, at the end of the stairs you just ran down, you knew who was talking to you. How couldn’t you? 

Steven Grant is memorable, and so is his accent.

The man who was supposed to be there for you vanished without a care, and the one you had given up on waiting stands right in front of you.

It was like seeing a ghost. You were all startled. All you could do was to look at him, to check every inch of his skin in search of… you don’t really know. Maybe in search of a proof that he’s real. Maybe in search of a proof that those past few weeks were nothing but a realistic nightmare.

You thought about not answering. To just turn your back on him, get on your car and drive home trying to make yourself believe that it was all a hallucination. You also did imagined you screaming at him, and then getting on you car. 

Every option ended with you running away. And maybe you would, maybe you could, but you made the mistake of looking into Steven’s brown eyes. Damn his eyes. Without your permission, your soul dive into them.

“Not really,” you whispered. Only then you noticed how close you were from crying. “Far from that, really.”

Your gentle eyes, forever marked on his mind, reflected the moon. Your hair, framing your face with a sense of liberation, lured him. Not even your tense, scared posture could hide your lightness. You seemed to have this natural glow, this magnetic pulsar that makes the world orbit around you.

A light that could put the sun on shame. 

“Stop staring at her,” he saw Marc’s reflection on one of your car’s windows. His arms were still crossed, just as his brows were still a straight line. But his eyes were fixed on you. Maybe he too couldn’t look away. “Just apologize already.”

Steven stepped further, unable to say anything. All the memories of you, every second he spend beside you talking shit about your bosses or just wandering through the museum with the other dumping random knowledges, it just blossom. All he could do was to let your light in.

“And do you always get home this late at night?”

“We received five vases today. Homeric period,” while Steven was moving closer, all you did was to stand where you were. You heartbeat was so loud it could deafen you. “So for the next weeks, yes.”

“Oh,” Steven licked his lips. “Did you knew that…”

“What the hell happened to you?” Suddenly your brain finally connect itself with you mouth. That rage he saw you aiming at your phone came back, and now it was all focused on him. And Steven knew he deserved it. “You disappeared.”

“I swear than I can explain.”

“Then do it,” when Steven hesitated, you threw your purse at him. Marc choked. “Say something, Steven! You disappeared! I thought you… Fuck, I don’t even know what I thought. What happened? No hesitation, no lies, no half-truths. What happened?”

“No, Steven, don’t fucking do it,” scolded Marc. “She’ll think you’re mocking her, or that you’re crazy and…”

Normally Steven is the clueless one. Normally you don’t yell or throw purses at him. Normally Marc is the one deciding for them both without asking first. But what about his life was normal?

So he just did it as you said. He told you about waking up on a different country, being chased by a jackal, Arthur Harrow’s plan of releasing Ammit, his battles in Egypt. His death. Steven is Konshu’s Avatar, his Moon Knight, and he saved the world. 

No hesitation, no lies, no half-truths.

You walked towards him, and for endless seconds Steven couldn’t breath. “Liar,” you grabbed your purse. Turning your back on him, you fitted they key the car door and opened it. He thinks you’re foolish, but running away was your initial plain.

But the pearly glow made you look back.

You put your purse chain on your arm and locked your car, walking towards the hero in front of you. Steven faced appeared, the white material sliding away. His brow eyes were back, and if he only knew the effect they have on you he would never cover them again.

“I’m too sober for this,” you sighed. “C’mon. Don’t make me regret this, Steven Grant.”

“I won’t,” Steven promised. Once again you were wrong about someone. At least this time it wasn’t a bad thing. “I would never.”

Marc followed throught the storefronts on the other side of the street, speecheless.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Marc is,” you hesitated. Too many questions lingered your mind, and your ability to verbalize them were messed by the empty bottles lying on the balcony. “Like a brother or something?”

Compared to you, Steven drank nothing. But for him, it was way more than enough. He never drank that much before, maybe because he never had someone to drink with. 

Steven nodded, his face supported on his right hand. He couldn’t feel his legs. “Like a brother.”

“And do you have other brothers?”

Reflect on the mirror bellow the the bottle’s shelf on the bar, Marc chortle. You were worried about how to handle his DID, unsure of what to say or to think, but he liked the way you worded your doubt. It was naive, but not in a bad way. Naive just as Steven is naive.

“Just the two of us,” murmured Steven. “Althought two is more than enough, innit?”

You giggled. All that tension from before just disappeared. Steven told you the truth, exactly what you asked him for. And the truth was enough. Forgave and forgotten, as you told him earlier. Steven being safe and sound in front of you was more than enough. “Sure it is.”

“Do you have brothers?” Steven grabbed his beer, and only noticed it was empty when it was on his mouth. Just when thought he should change for water, the barman quickly came with two more open bottles. “Cheers,” said Steven.

His accent really was something.

“Cheers,” you took a sip of yours. “One. He’s a complete knobhead. More than enough, I assure you.”

Perhaps due to the heat emanating from your body, thanks to the beer and the closed environment, the necklace bothered you again. You felt like a chained dog. It was difficult to breathe. You opened it, the heavy pendant falling into your lap. When you put it in your bag, Steven gasped.

“You’re bruised,” he told you. Steven reach out for you. He didn’t even thought about it, he just brushed his fingers through the warm skin of your collarbone.

The weight of his fingers, the careful pressure he put on your skin, was welcome. His warmth didn’t bother you. Not at all. “I shouldn’t have ran down stairs,” you said. “It’s just a heavy necklace, Steven. I’m fine.”

Steven caressed your skin one last time before realizing what he have done. He pulled away from you, worried that he may have crossed a line he shouldn’t. Steven didn’t even notice how for a second you followed his hand, already missing his gentle touch.

It’s been three, maybe four hours since you both entered the first open bar you could find. So it’s been three or four hours since you both didn’t shut up for a second. “So…” Steven licked his lips, looking at his hands. “New vases?”

“I’m responsible for finding out if they are what the sellers say they are,” you started. “They are respect on the market, but there is only one way to know if you’re dealing with a Glarifa Rosales. And it’s by doing your fucking job.”

You told him about it before. The biggest case of fraud in the art world. Glarifa Rosales selled Rothko’s and Pollock’s for millions of dollars to the Knoedler Gallery, which then selled them for even more. In the end, everything was done by a chinese imigrant that always dreamed of being a successful painter. In a sense, he really was.

“Tomorrow I will go the lab and get the results about the ceramic footprint. If it’s true, than maybe you’ll have the honor of hear me talking no stop about their history.” You laugh at your own words. “The only problem is that it will get ready so late at night, which means…”

“Driving,” completed Steven, with a smile so sweet Marc worried about having toothache. So down bad for you, Marc thought. “And I would love to hear about them. Are they about The Odissey?”

Here’s the thing: Steven don’t just listens to you, he devours every word you say.

“One is a Apolo’s prophecy, the others tell the story of him and Cassandra. You know, the girl who knew the future but couldn’t make anyone believe her.”

“Tell me more about it,” Steven asked.

And of course you would.

“Only if you tell me more about Konshu,” you replied.

And of course he would.

In his absence, you almost forgot about how easy it was to be with Steven. Almost. It was like he could just see when you wanted to speak or when you needed to listen. Since the moment you both meet, with him dropping cold tea on your heels and his manager almost begging for your pardon, Steven just knew you.

It was so easy to be with him that you only remembered that you needed to go home when they started closing the bar. You didn’t even noticed the time passing. You both wandered through the streets, surrounded by a fog of inebriation. The world felt so light, so young and careless.

This time talking about Konshu, you barely looked forward the street. You just glared as Steven, listening with as much attention as when he listened to you. You really did, until your phone rang, disturbing your peace.

You tone it down immediately after seeing who was calling, but Steven noticed the change on your humor. “I asked you before and I gonna ask you again,” warned Steven. “Is everything alright?”

“Far from it,” you repeated yourself. “Far from it.”

Steven isn’t selfish. He don’t do things without thinking about other’s feelings first. There are a lot of people who don’t give a damn about who they hurt on their path to get what they want, but Steven isn’t like that. So when he told you that you deserved better, he really meant it. Even if it wasn’t him, he meant it.

“It’s not that bad,” you said. You didn’t knew if you were defending him or diminishing yourself. “He... how do I say that? Deu uma bola fora. Made a mistake, for lack of better words.”

“It was a important night, wasn’t it?” You nodded. “If I were him, I wouldn’t forget it. I wouldn’t forget anything about you.”

“You only say that because you would love to spend the rest of your life inside a museum,” you giggled.

“But I mean it,” Steven reassured you. “You deserve someone that remembers. Someone that cares. And if he can’t see the treasure he holds, than he don’t deserve you.”

“It isn’t so simple, Steven.”

“Indulge me.”

“I’m alone,” your words took Steven by surprise. “In this city, in this country. My family is an ocean of distance, and most of the time I feel like I can’t relate to anyone because I barely understand what people are saying. Without him, I’m alone. And being alone sucks.”

When you saw the look on his, you lightly pushed him by the shoulder. “What’s with that face of yours?” You chuckled. “It’s not that deep, don’t need to get all emotional over that. Don’t worry about me.”

“I think I should,” Steven whispered. It just didn’t make sense. How could you think, feel that way? “And I think you’re a bit stupid.”

“Repeat that,” it sounded like a warning.

“You’re a bit stupid,” Steven repeated. You blinked, just staring at him. “Look at you. You’re bloody amazing. You’re smart, and funny, and beautiful. If Jeff don’t see that, he’s a idiot. If you don’t, then you’re one too.”

“Damn,” you murmured. You pointed at him, a playful smile on your face. “You know, you’re so lucky for being cute. I wouldn’t put up with any of your shit if you didn’t look like a lost puppy.”

She thinks I’m cute, was all Steven heard from what you said.

Of course she does, Steven.

Looking towards the street, you found what you were looking for. You made a sign for the cab, and soon it was speeding up. “Where are you heading to? Maybe we’re going to the direction.”

“DID YOU FORGOT ABOUT YOUR OATH?”, Konshu appeared at the end of the street, just as the cab passed by it. That fucker thinks he’s in a horror movie, always chosing to act like a jump scare instead of just acting normal.

But again, there was something normal about his life? About their life?

“Is it Marc?” You gave a step back when the cab stopped. A crack, a sound that went unnoticed by Steven’s ears, made you look at were you stepped. A ceramic sun, now broken, stand where you stepped. Weird, you thought to yourself. “Konshu?”

“The second,” he said.

“And what did the lying pigeon said?”

Steven don’t think he ever heard Marc laughing so hard. With Konshu saying something about INSOLENT VERMS, Steven opened the cab’s door for you. “That I have work to do.”

“You won’t disappear again, will you?”

Steven shook his head, a light smile on his face. “Never again, I swear,” he said. You took it as an oath, one that you would made sure that he would never forget about it. “Have a good night. No, a good morning. Bom dia.”

“Bye, Steven,” you rolled your eyes. “Bye, Marc.”

When the cab disappeared, Steven took a deep breath. So did Marc.

MOONLIGHT MEETS SUNLIGHT TAGLIST: @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Almost ~ JJK [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.2

GENRE: Angst, fluffy, established-relationship, jealous, happy ending

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hope this is okay, I took a different approach with it, rather than a huge fight I did a calmer one? Hope you like it!

The sun felt as though it was burning your skin even through the layers of clothes you were wearing and the vast amount of suncream you had on didn't feel as though it was doing its job. You knew that Australia was going to be hot but you had no idea it was going to be this hot,

"You okay?" Jungkook chuckled as he stepped back to walk with you, you hummed at him taking the bottle of water he was holding out for you. 

"You sure?" He knew that you didn't handle the heat well but he didn't want to leave you behind while he and the boys travelled to Australia for Bon Voyage 5. This season was one of their more relaxed ones, just like season four when they were in their own place the boys had been offered their own small b&b to film the fifth season in. Whilst in Australia they could do whatever they wanted to do, including travelling around, touring the famous places and doing whatever it was that the boys wanted to do.

"Yeah, just out of breath." You giggled as you all came to a stop at the museum the boys had been travelling to. It was Namjoons day to pick what they were going to do and he had picked The Nation Gallery Of Victoria to go to which was why you'd walked most of the way. It was only a 30-minute walk from where the boys, crew and you were all staying so it wasn't a big walk. The heat however was making it a little harder on you.

"Once we're inside and they have enough shots we can walk around together sound good?" He questioned you as you all waited for the crew to go and get your tickets and make sure that the museum was clear for the boys to head inside.

"Sounds perfect to-" 

"Jungkook! Make-up!" His personal make-up artist called out to him making him look away from you and over at her. That was how it always seemed to be, whenever she saw you and Jungkook getting close to one another she would give some excuse for him to leave you alone or go to her. At first, you figured it was because of the show, he needed his makeup on for the cameras but even when the cameras weren't rolling and you and Jungkook were finally having some alone time she would come up with something to get him away from you. 

"I'll be back soon," He quickly kissed your forehead before going over to her. Lee Bomi was one of the most beautiful makeup artists that BigHit had to offer, she was also the most talented one too. She'd worked with a lot of the BigHit artists before being settled with BTS and becoming Jungkook's number one. Sitting down on a wall you watched the two of them interacting with one another. Deep down you knew that there was nothing going on between them since Jungkook and you were engaged but you still always had that sinking feeling inside of you. The jealously always bubbled up inside you whenever you got to see how close they were with one another. They'd known one another for so long there was no surprise that they were as close as they were with each other but it didn't stop you from getting jealous. Watching them laughing amongst one another with their inside jokes, watching how she could always get close to him physically without being pulled away. Even though you and Jungkook were engaged you were never allowed to have PDA unless you were alone, alone. BigHit had made it a rule when they realised how serious Jungkook was about you, you figured it was just to keep fans at peace.

"Cat got your tongue?" Hoseok asked as he sat down next to you on the wall and followed your gaze, smiling when he saw what you were looking at. 

"You know they're just friends." He reassured you as he held out some dried fruit for you to munch on,

"I know but I still can't help it...She gets to be around him all of the time..." Hoseok sighed softly as he nudged you playfully, it wasn't as though your relationship wasn't known amongst fans. BigHit had announced it months ago but you still weren't allowed to be overly physical with him. 

"She's a makeup artist, she has to be around all of the time," Hoseok told you as he got up and held out his arm for you to take. Everyone was starting to head inside for the tour of the museum and Hoseok didn't want you to wait outside and overthink every little detail about Jungkook's friendship with Bomi.

"I have these tickets for a small getaway, do you think he would want to go?" You questioned as you and Hoseok stood in front of a display case not paying attention to anything that was inside of it, Hoseok turned to you with a smile and nodded. 

"He loves spending time with you and a getaway after being cramped up with the crew and the boys will probably do him some good." He chuckled at the thought of it and you smiled, feeling reassured that you and Jungkook would finally get some time alone together.

Later in the night, you were staying up late with Jungkook, sitting on the sofa with your head on his shoulder while some boring movie played on the TV. Neither of you was paying attention to it, you were too busy talking to one another and then kissing to bother looking at the screen. 

"I think," You started as you laid down with your head on his thighs, moving so that your legs hung over the arm of the sofa and looked up at Jungkook. 

"You think what?" He questioned, moving some of your hair from your face and smiling happily at you. 

"That when we head back home, we should go on our own mini-holiday? I've seen this amazing b&b just outside of Seoul, I've got some tickets that I got from a while ago..." You'd been wanting to ask him to go with you for a while but you never knew when to ask. Now seemed like the right time since he'd been working so hard lately. The break would be perfect, just the two of you on a mini getaway,

"It'll be romantic, we can just hide out together. Doing whatever we want," He told you as he bent down to kiss your lips softly, 

"I can't wait, babe. I'll talk to Sejin about it tomorrow morning," He promised you as he looked into your eyes, cupping your face in his hands. 

"Talk to Sejin about what?!" Bomi's voice called out as she forced herself down onto the sofa behind Jungkook making you move out of his lap so you could all sit on the sofa together.

"Y/n and I are going to take a romantic break together, just the two of us when we get back to Korea," You smiled brightly as Jungkook told her the plans and then held onto you tightly, you snuggled your head down into his shoulder. 

"Oh...What about our plans though? I thought we were going to binge-watch Demon slayer and then start working out," Bomi sounded disappointed as she said this to Jungkook, you turned to look at her and she had the puppy dog eyes out trying to convince Jungkook not to go with you. 

"We can do that when I get back, I just miss spending time with Y/n-"

"You're always spending time with Y/n! What about me?!" You frowned as she raised her voice at him and then spoke about you as if you weren't in the room, you stared at her as she got up from the sofa. Acting as though she was some child whose parents had just told her off for something she shouldn't have been doing. 

"She's my girlfriend if I want to spend time with her, I can?" Jungkook was confused as to where all of this was coming from with Bomi, 

"You can go and spend time with Kai?" He suggested as he thought back on Bomi's boyfriend back home but she began shaking her head and crying hysterically, 

"He broke up with me! That's why I was looking forward to hanging out with you so much." As soon as the tears began to roll down her face Jungkook turn to give you a sympathetic look and you knew you'd lost the romantic trip to her. 

"Fine, Y/n and I can always rearrange the dates?" He asked as he stared at you but you shook your head at him not wanting to talk about it now or ever in front of her. 

"Whatever." You mumbled before storming out of the living room, ignoring his calls for you to go back to him as you walked towards your room in the crew section of the B&B, locking the door behind you.

Jungkook knocked on the door over and over again throughout the night trying to get you to come out and talk to him but you weren't going to. You kept the door shut and pretended to be asleep so that he would just go away, all you wanted to do was spend some time alone with him and yet you never seemed to get that. Bomi would always come into it and ruin it somehow. 

The next morning Jungkook waited outside your room for you to come out but you hadn't, he'd been sitting there since he woke up and you were nowhere to be seen. 

"Y/n left, she said she was going to go to the beach alone today," Yoongi told Jungkook when he walked down the hall to see him knocking on the door over and over again. 

"When?!" Jungkook was up on his feet in a flash and Hoseok came down the hall to see why the youngest member was yelling so early in the morning. It wasn't even 9 am yet so no one had expected him to be out of bed. Bomi followed Hoseok and they all stared at Jungkook, 

"She was leaving at 6? I got up to make coffee and she was going out of the door. Said she needed to think things over," Yoongi explained but this only earnt a scoff from Bomi as she folded her arms over her chest and pouted out her bottom lip. 

"It's a desperate cry for attention for Guky. He said no to going on a romantic get away with her," Hoseok frowned looking at Bomi and then to Jungkook who was already pulling out his phone to call you and find out when you would be coming back.

"He said no? I thought he would have loved it, I told her to go ahead and ask him." Hoseok sounded upset for you at the thought of Jungkook saying no but then he looked at Bomi who was staring at Jungkook. 

"Guky, can we go and play video games?" She whined pulling on his arms as he looked at his phone, ignoring her while he tried to call your phone. 

"Guky. You promised you'd make me feel better after Kai," That was when it started to sink into Hoseok that maybe Jungkook hadn't said no to you but that Bomi had convinced him otherwise.

When you came back that night Jungkook was curled up on the sofa with Bomi's head in his lap, he was asleep with his head on the back of the sofa. 

"Hey, where have you been?" Hoseok questioned when he looked up from his phone, he'd been calling you all day to find out when you were coming home and what had happened with Bomi but you ignored everyone. Turning off your phone and just exploring the city on your own for a while, 

"Went out. That's a new development..." You whispered as you looked at your fiancé being used as a pillow, jealously beginning to bubble again but this time Hoseok didn't stop you from feeling jealous. In his eyes, you had every right to feel upset with how the two of them acted around one another. Bomi treated Jungkook as though he was her boyfriend and not your fiancé. All-day he'd had to watch Bomi cling onto Jungkook and try to steer him away from calling you but it was as if Jungkook was blind to it and Hoseok was torn between telling you or letting it go on. 

"Babe! I've missed you so much!" Jungkook mumbled as he woke up and saw you standing there staring at him but you made no attempt to go close to him. 

"Looks like it." You mumbled sarcastically, turning to Hoseok with a smile and going towards your room. 

"Babe! Wait!" Jungkook whisper-yelled as he slowly moved Bomi off him and chased after you. You thought you were safe in your room but he walked straight inside and stared at you, 

"You've been ignoring my calls all day, I was worried about you." He said as he tried to wrap his arms around you but you stepped away from him and shook your head. 

"You didn't look worried, it looked to me as though you'd been cuddling up with Bomi all day." You snapped as you began packing up your suitcase. Throughout the whole day of being on your own, you'd thought about how better it would be if you just headed home for the rest of the stay. 

"No, I haven't, I've been non-stop calling you. You would know if you bothered to check your phone," Scoffing at his statement you continued to pack while Jungkook un-packed everything you were putting inside. 

"What are you doing?" He questioned as he continued to watch you try and pack, 

"Leaving. You're clearly having more fun with Bomi here, I'll go home." You said dryly as your head continued to throw the image of them on the sofa together but he shook his head. 

"Bomi just needed comforting, Kai and her-"

"Kai and her broke up four months ago. I asked him while I was making coffee this morning," You interrupted him as you waited for the next excuse to come from him but he said nothing. Just standing there staring at you in silence, 

"Can't you see why she's doing it? She has a huge crush on you, it doesn't take a genius to see it." You told him as you finally got everything into your suitcase and zipped it up, turning to leave when you saw Bomi standing there. Tears streaming down her cheeks,

"I-I had a nightmare and you weren't there," You rolled your eyes and laughed as you turned to see Jungkook falling for it all over again, 

"See. Just like that, you're putty in her fucking hands." You dragged your suitcase off the bed and began to leave the room when Jungkook took hold of your hand. 

"She doesn't have a crush on me, she's just upset and lonely," He tried to defend her but you weren't going to stand for it anymore, you'd reached your breaking point. 

"I'm lonely too but I don't go around clingy to other people's fiancé's." This time you stared at Bomi as you said it to Jungkook, waiting for her to finally crack and tell Jungkookt he truth as to why she was always clingy onto him but she just smirked at you. 

"That's insane, you're not lonely," He told you as he let go of your wrist but you just walked away from him, ignoring his yells after you as you put your suitcase into the trunk of the rental car you'd gotten. 

"You can keep the tickets for the romantic getaway, you and Bomi might need them." You mumbled as you opened the driver's door but Jungkook slammed it shut, 

"Enough! What is your problem?!" He called out as he stared at you waiting for some kind of explanation as to what you doing. 

"I already told you. She's trying to come between us because of her crush on you and you're too blind to see it." You tried to open the door but Jungkook leant his back against it so you didn't have a chance to. 

"Bomi is a friend-"

"Does she know that?" You questioned turning around to see her watching you from the front door of the b&b, arms folded across her chest as she waited for all of this to be over. 

"You're being ridiculous," Jungkook grumbled as he looked at you but this time you didn't have a chance to say anything. Hoseok stepped in, 

"Jungkook all day Bomi has done nothing but stop you from calling Y/n, clinging onto you as though you were the couple." Your head snapped around to Bomi who was now smirking even more while tears rolled down your face, 

"No she hasn't, s-she's been upset over Kai and I wanted to comfort her like a good friend." You stared up at Jungkook as he spoke and it hit you that he really didn't see what Bomi was doing, that he was just an innocent party in all of this.

"You don't see it, do you? You don't see the way she clings onto you and pulls you away from me?" Your hand on the car door dropped as you realised he really hadn't seen what she was doing to the two of you.

"See what?" Jungkook sighed as he looked at you, 

"She's manipulative, she'll push a wedge between you both until she can slot herself in until she can finally get Y/n out," You turned around when you heard a new voice come into the conversation and Kai was standing there watching everything. Bomi moved out of the way and headed into the b&b while Hoseok looked at you and smiled weakly before leaving. After seeing Bomi and Jungkook all day he went to speak to Kai about everything to see if he could speak to Jungkook for you. 

"You cheated on her, you'll do anything to make her seem-"

"She cheated on me. Starting sleeping with one of the other crew members...Also engaged. That's what she does, she loves chasing after things she knows she's not supposed to...Jungkook don't throw away what you and Y/n have." Jungkook looked back down at you as he heard Kai speaking and it hit him. Everything she had been doing since before the trip to Australia. Everything hitting him as if he'd been driving and hit into a wall.

Jungkook convinced you to stay that night and he laid in bed with you, holding you close to him as you both spoke over everything to do with it. He was going to remove Bomi as he makeup artist and put forward that he was switched to someone else. It wasn't just to make you feel better but also himself, he felt awful for not seeing what she was doing until it was almost too late. 

"I can't believe I almost lost you," He whispered as he noticed you were nodding off to sleep

"I-I don't want to lose you," He whispered again as he began to draw small patterns into your skin, you hummed against his chest as he spoke to you about it. 

"I love you too much to let you go," He said to you again as you hummed tiredly in agreement with him. Yawning as you tried to speak to him, 

"I love you too...N-Not going anywhere." You whispered tiredly before drifting off to sleep in his arms, Jungkook holding onto you tightly throughout the entire night.

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @rjsmochii​ @fan-ati--c​ @bisexualmess007​ @sweeneyblue1​ @sw33tnight​ @innersooya​ @jin-from-the-block​

[lovenona]

and i repeat: anthropo-ceramics geto suguru is the type of toxic where he'd take your virginity, make a sculpture about the experience, then smash it on the ground as a metaphor

this ask is my entire life. this ask is my lifeblood. everyone please saddle up for the ride of a lifetime, otherwise known as 1500ish words of toxic geto featuring sukuna being a good fucking friend – please continue at ur own risk this absolutely contains geto being a pretentious toxic fucker and mentions of virginity/first time but yes i guarantee it does have a happy ending (link to the full college! cinematic universe here) 

let’s begin with the basics – why wouldn’t you fuck geto suguru? he has the type of beauty that lingers on the back of your eyelids even after you’ve long since departed from him; it’s the kind of fragrant, lasting beauty that you think sculptors muse over when they coax life from their marble. he’s smooth, like still water, and calming, like the sound of birds rustling and leaves swaying at dawn. he is helen: a beauty that nations would go to war over. 

and sure, he is pretentious, the kind of toxic pretentiousness that festers inside of all pretty boys who call themselves “leftists” but can’t be bothered to call their mothers or to care about their partners. but it’s the way he speaks, the way he looks at you with such fervor and attention in his eyes that you’re utterly willing to let him break your heart. 

and maybe it’s not often that someone looks at you the way geto does: it’s not often that someone looks at you like they want you, body and soul. and it feels nice to be cared about, to be flirted with, even if the figure doing the flirting condescends you in a way that is different, harsher, colder, than the way ryomen sukuna does. 

so geto suguru takes you on dates. after the avant-garde poetry reading, in which you feigned excitement as he recited a poem on global imperialism that you didn’t quite vibe with, he brings you to local bookstores with overpriced yuppie memoirs, farmers’ markets with organic fruit, human rights protests and philosophy meetings where greasy boys bitterly discuss the communist manifesto. he takes you to dinner, too, to vegan restaurants that you can’t help but rave about on yelp later and to bars where they serve your cocktails in mason jars. 

geto suguru, for all his faults, is incredibly lighthearted with you; he makes you feel beautiful and desirable and warm, even when he’s explaining anthropology to you with such intense vigor that you lose track of his meaning. after everything, you’d be lying if you said you regretted your time with him.

after awhile you let geto fuck you – and yes, he was your first time, which you were naturally quite nervous about. but you appreciated him because he waited for you; he never pressured you into behaviors you didn’t want; he never asked you for services you weren’t ready to provide. and so when you slept with him, after an invigorating open-mic night at the fair-trade coffee shop near campus, you felt ready for the intimacy. geto made you feel attractive, comfortable, safe. he praised you the whole night, gave you caresses that lit you up like fireworks, provided such a level of god-tier aftercare you still reminisce about it, even now. 

but that’s the thing about anthropology-ceramics major geto suguru: he’s quietly toxic. he’s a poison that sneaks up on you, infecting your bloodstream when you least expect it. 

you weren’t sure if geto wanted to pursue a relationship, either. you’d fucked, sure, and you went on dates, but he was always the type to avoid long-term commitments. rumors float around campus of the many partners he’s ghosted, of the relationships he exploited for his own “artistic musings.” they aren’t loud rumors, to be sure, but they hang around his aura like a strange, ghostly scent. 

geto is a pretentious little fuck. you’ve known it and agreed to enter his circle anyway. maybe you hoped, perhaps naively, that the rumors would simply not apply to you.

which was a stupid idea. three weeks after the experience, since which you have only spent one-on-one time with geto only a few times, mostly to talk about school, the art department hosts an art show. it’s a regular occurrence, where the art students show off their best works, grad students display their in-progress theses, and outsiders can browse the displays, drink wine, offer to give outstanding students jobs and internships. it’s truly a big fucking deal for the art department; many of the school’s the most successful artists received their first acclaim here. 

you’ve always enjoyed attending, even if the level of talent and expertise sometimes intimidates you, even if you know you’ll never be on this level. you know sukuna’s got a few paintings lined up to be on display – paintings you’ve modeled for, drawings you’ve watched him labor over for hours on end. you reckon that for all your begrudging time together, you might as well show your face in support. 

but what you didn’t count on was geto’s contribution.

at this art show, there are, every now and then, some interactive performances, speeches, explanations on certain works. so it happens that from the back of the auditorium you watch geto take the stage, wheeling a small, white sculpture behind him. from your perspective it could have been a flower – perhaps a lily, but you can’t be certain. 

(geto always did like sculpting precious, dainty flowers.)

he doesn’t call you by name, but he doesn’t have to. he talks at great length in that smooth voice of his about the construct of virginity, the purity culture plaguing the globe, the emotional sensitivity of having your first time. geto seguru tells an avid audience what you felt about fucking for the first time. he recreates the entire night for two hundred listeners: he recalls the foreplay, the insecurity, the orgasms. he doesn’t call you by name. he doesn’t have to. 

he may have asked for your consent the first time. but he certainly did not ask your permission to do this. 

you’re not sure if you should laugh or cry when geto dramatically smashes his own sculpture, citing the “destruction of virginity” and  the need “to demolish a social desire to classify one’s morality based upon their sexual activity” and “the symbolic popping of the cherry” among other phrases that are utter bullshit. you’re watching the fragments dance across the stage and you feel exploited. you feel used in a way that feels utterly worse than anything else geto could have done.

did he ever like you? or were you simply a muse for this moment? 

you’re about to ditch the art show and go wallow in self pity at your apartment when a familiar presence slides in beside you.

“that’s kinda fucked,” sukuna says, hands in his jacket pockets. he’s looking at you out of the corner of his eye. his tone tells you he’s joking. maybe he just doesn’t know. “no one gives a shit about virginity constructs anymore, idiot.” 

“yeah,” you respond, but the energy is gone. you feel strange, like you’re hovering outside of yourself. your head hurts: you’re angry. you decide you’d like to cry when you get home. “what a piece of shit.” it comes out strangled and lost. 

sukuna notices the dejection in your voice, the sag in your shoulders, the way you’re just barely able to hold yourself together. he may be arrogant, not ryomen sukuna is not mean.

a familiar arm around your shoulders, keeping your sanity together. “shit’s lame. let’s get the fuck out of here.” it’s a phrase that captures everything that remains unsaid between you: i’m going to beat the shit out of geto the next time i see him. that’s absolutely unbelievable.

you never explicitly told sukuna about your weird relationship with geto: you didn’t have to. it was always evident to the both of you. it was written in the way you’d look a little bit longer in geto’s direction, in the way you let yourself be strung along and become someone else. you’ve hung around sukuna long enough that you know his body language and that he knows yours. you’ve hung around sukuna enough that there are a lifetime of stories that never need to be told. 

you nod. “yeah.” thank you. i know. 

you’re both uncharacteristically silent when you exit the auditorium, when you collect sukuna’s belongings that are still lounging by his artwork as you prepare to leave. ryomen sukuna is famous for never shutting the fuck up. but as you button your coat, he’s silent, and it’s strange. comfortable.

“thank you,” you say with uncharacteristic softness as he throws a sketchbook back into his backpack and zips it shut. 

“why?”

“for asking my permission,” you say, gesturing to the gallery wall behind him, to the painting of you – “eros” – that you had posed for awhile back. even now, you find that it captures an essence you did not know you possessed. “he didn’t. ask, i mean.” 

ryomen sukuna has always craved your attention. and maybe he’s glad he’s got it back – but it feels sour. he doesn’t understand why he’s so fucking upset for you. he doesn’t understand why he wants so badly for you to be happy again. what he does understand is that he plans for retribution. 

“that’s fucked,” he settles on. “what bastard doesn’t ask for consent?”

you smile – and he does too, one that’s less feral and almost kind. and so you fall back into routine, already, some kind of weight lifting from your shoulders. ryomen sukuna may be a menace, but you can rely on him, trust him: that much you know. 

“you know,” sukuna says offhandedly as you exit the building and enter the parking lot. “i know where geto’s car is, i’m just saying. and i’d be lying if i said i didn’t have an extra precision knife in my backpack right now.”  

[beifongsss]

the painter [zuko]

Pairing: (Fire Lord) Zuko x reader

Summary: A request from @queenofmankind​: “ Hi there! I’d like to request a Zuko x reader please. The royal painter suddenly falls sick a day before he’s supposed to paint a portrait of Zuko to put in the Firelords gallery so he sends his prodigy instead which is the reader. She’s the first person ever that successfully makes Zuko embrace his scar instead of being insecure about it and she makes Zuko laugh hard (several times if may) and he’s just overall so taken by her + bonus scene of Uncle Iroh encouraging Zuko to ask her out Thank u “

.masterlist.

please please ignore some of the flaws in this fic. i know that a detailed portrait cannot be done in a day, especially not with limited lighting. i’m sorry :(

~

You grumbled in annoyance as you walked up the steps to the royal palace. Torran, your mentor and the royal painter, had fallen ill the night before and had sent you to the palace in his place. You had no idea what you were going to be painting seeing as he had been too sick to give you any details other than to show up early and to bring your best paints and materials.

“You much be (Y/N),” a voice greeted you, causing you to look up. You met the eyes of the famed General Iroh and bowed immediately.

“General Iroh, it is an honor to be in your presence,” you said, still bowing. You heard him chuckle.

“Please, no need for that,” he spoke, motioning for you to follow him into the palace. “Just Iroh is fine. I assume you know why you’re here?”

“Actually, no,” you replied, following Iroh closely. “Unfortunately, Torran is quite sick and didn’t give me any details.”

“That’s a shame. I sure hope he gets better soon,” Iroh frowned before leading you into a small hall, a table standing off to the side. “Since you’re early, would you like some tea while we wait?”

You nodded silently, taking a seat and watching Iroh as he prepared the tea. Everyone knew about the Jasmine Dragon and how the once-general had a talent for making the best tea in the nation. You smiled gratefully as he handed you a cup, breathing in the steam before your brows furrowed. “What exactly are we waiting for?”

“Oh, right!” Iroh said, taking a seat across from you. “We’re waiting for-”

“Uncle!” another voice interrupted Iroh. “Is Torran here yet?”

Your eyes widened as they met a pair of piercing gold ones. Standing in front of you was the young Fire Lord. He was wearing an impressive set of robes, his hair tied up with the traditional hair piece, showcasing his handsome face. You stood up immediately, placing your cup on the table before facing the young Fire Lord and bowing deeply. 

“Who’s this?” Zuko asked, his eyes still on your figure. “Please stop bowing.”

You stood up straight, making eye contact with Iroh, who motioned for you to take your seat once more. You sat in silence, reaching for your cup as Iroh addressed the Fire Lord.

“This is (Y/N). She is Master Torran’s trusted apprentice, a true prodigy,” Iroh stated, causing you to blush at his words.

“Uh yes, okay,” Zuko said, now shifting his gaze to his uncle. “But why is she here instead of Torran?”

“I’m afraid Torran is out sick, Zuko,” Iroh said before motioning to you. “She will be painting your portrait in his place.”

Your eyes widened at his words and you found yourself choking on your tea before pounding on your chest to try and clear your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m here to do what?”

Both Iroh and Zuko stared at you in concern. You coughed a few more times before staring back.

“I’m here to paint the Fire Lord’s portrait?” you squawked, pointing at yourself. Your eyes were wide and full of nervousness and despite the situation, Zuko couldn’t help but chuckle. “N-No that’s not possible. Can’t you just wait for Torran to get better?”

“Do not doubt yourself (Y/N),” Iroh said, handing Zuko a cup of tea. He stood up, taking a hold of Zuko’s shoulders and guiding him to take his seat. “We have seen your works and they are most impressive. You will do a fine job. Now, if you'll excuse me, I will leave you two to discuss the details. I’m afraid I must get to a meeting.”

You bowed your head respectfully, receiving a warm smile from Iroh before he retreated. The silence that followed was awkward, the two of you shooting glances at each other and looking away hurriedly when you made eye contact before taking a sip of tea.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” you broke the silence, fidgeting in your seat as you forced yourself to look up at the golden-eyed boy. “For the portra-”

“Call me Zuko,” the Fire Lord blurted, looking away from you. He took a sip of tea before looking at you shyly. “There’s no need to address me as ‘Fire Lord’. The formalities aren’t necessary.”

“Alright then,” you said, surprised. “Zuko, about the portrait, do you have an idea of what you want it to be like?”

Zuko stared blankly at you, blinking languidly before answering. “No. What do you mean?”

You shrugged as you reached down to grab some paper and ink. “I mean, do you want the same pose as the Fire Lords before you? Tall and menacing with a ‘look at me the wrong way and I’ll smite you where you stand’ expression?”

Zuko tried to hold back a laugh at your words, only to end up snorting in the process. He looked up at you, embarrassment on his face only to see you smiling at him. Quickly composing himself, he contemplated your question, unable to wipe a smile off his face. “Um, yes. Wait, no. I-I don’t know.”

You quirked an eyebrow, giving him an amused glance. “You don’t know?”

Zuko shook his head. “I don’t want to come off as threatening. I don’t want this portrait to be like the others, I want it to be different, more welcoming.”

You nodded at his words, looking around in the hall you were in. “Is this where we’re doing the portrait?”

Zuko nodded, looking around as well.

“May I suggest doing it somewhere a little brighter?” you asked, noticing how the hall was dimly lit. “A brighter background might help make the portrait seem a little less intimidating.”

Thinking over your words, Zuko found himself agreeing before standing up. “Follow me.”

You scrambled to get your things before following the Fire Lord. He led you through many different hallways and you found yourself getting lost with the many turns you had made. Eventually you found yourself standing outside, a gasp escaping your lips as you took in the sight before you.

You were standing in the Royal Palace Gardens. Your eyes landed on the lake in the middle, the trees around it providing shade as the turtle ducks swam around happily. There was an impressive fountain on the other side, and you marveled at it briefly before turning your attention back to the turtle ducks. You heard Zuko clear his throat and glanced up quickly to meet his eyes. His face held an amused smile as he looked at you, causing you to quickly look away and walk towards the lake.

“If I knew that being royalty means you get to have turtle ducks in your home, I would’ve chosen a different path in life,” you said, now looking around the garden to try and find a good place for Zuko to stand. You blushed as you heard Zuko let out a soft laugh.

“They’re the best part about all this,” he said softly. “When I was younger I used to come out and feed them with my mom.”

You looked over your shoulder, about to make a witty remark before noticing the Fire Lord’s contemplative look. You pursed your lips before taking a few steps back, your eyes never leaving Zuko’s form.

“If you want,” you began, still observing the golden-eyed boy as you crossed your arms. “We can do the portrait with you standing in front of the lake.”

Zuko hesitated for a second, looking down at the turtle ducks before making eye contact with you. He didn’t say anything, instead choosing to smile softly and nod.

Silently, made sure that you had everything before you began to set up. You were fighting with your easel, muttering under your breath as it seemed to be winning, before you felt a warm pair of hands come in contact with yours.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Zuko mumbled, setting up your easel with ease as you tried to hold back a blush. He shot you a smug look as he stepped back. “You’re welcome.”

Huffing lightly, you picked up your paints and brushes before muttering under your breath. “Thank you oh great Fire Lord why don’t you just do the whole painting while you’re at it.”

Zuko let out a loud bark of laughter at your words before composing himself, turning away from you to conceal his smile. You flushed as you realized that he had heard your words, only getting redder as he spoke once more. “A simple ‘thank you’ would’ve sufficed.”

Too embarrassed to speak, you busied yourself by preparing your paints. You propped up a blank canvas, shifting the easel around as you tried to find the perfect angle. Once you were satisfied with the easel’s position, you made your way over to Zuko. You looked up at him, rubbing your chin thoughtfully as you noticed the way the light hit his face.

Zuko didn’t meet your eyes, trying to stop the blush from creeping onto his cheeks as you reached out gently. You grabbed his shoulders, tilting him slightly until you were content with his position. Looking at him once more, you smiled widely, nodding your head in satisfaction before walking back to your easel. This time Zuko couldn’t stop the blush from appearing on his face.

It was silent in the garden as you began working. You began with the outline, only looking up to take in the general details of the garden. Zuko remembered how he had initially been apprehensive of allowing you to paint his portrait, especially because you couldn’t be any older than he was. However, after going through your works with his uncle he had realized that you were indeed talented, no matter your age.

It also didn’t hurt that you were witty. Or that you were easy on the eyes.

Zuko blushed at his thoughts, shaking his head slightly before letting his eyes rest on your form. He took in the way the light was hitting your (H/C) hair before observing the way you moved your brush fluidly, no hesitation visibly in your actions. He took notice of your relaxed stance as you painted, your confidence shining through but not in a cocky way. He finally let his eyes drift to your face, which was scrunched up in mild concentration as you tried to get the shape of the trees just right. Zuko’s eyes widened as your eyes snapped to his, quirking an eyebrow before turning back to the painting in front of you.

The Fire Lord closed his eyes briefly, trying to figure out how to break the silence. He licked his lips nervously before opening his mouth, only to cut off by you.

“So, if I may ask,” you began, eyes never leaving the painting in front of you. “Why is getting this portrait done so urgent? You’re really risking the quality of this painting by not choosing to wait for Torran to get better. But hey, at least this isn’t the final version.”

Zuko breathed out a laugh at your words before answering. “I will be leaving in two days time. I am needed elsewhere.”

You glanced up at him, nodding at his vague answer. “Ah yes. Elsewhere.”

“I am going to Ba Sing Se,” Zuko admitted. “Aang is waiting for me there. Together we will try to build up diplomatic relations with the Earth Kingdom and repair the damages done by my sister when she infiltrated the city.”

“Field trip with the Avatar,” you mused. The outline of the portrait was now done and you bent down to pick up more paint before straightening. “Sounds...fun.”

“Anything involving Aang is fun,” Zuko stated flatly, remembering all the mishaps he had had with the young airbender. “Not necessarily safe, but fun.”

You hummed in response, not replying for a minute as you began to add details to the portrait. “I see. So you want the final portrait done by the time you get back I’m assuming?”

Zuko nodded before realizing you weren’t looking at him. “Uh, yes.”

More time passed, with Zuko staying silent as he tried his best to not distract you. After a few more minutes, you were done with the background and the only thing left was to paint in the Fire Lord’s features. “Alright, I’m gonna need you to stand real still for me, okay? I can’t have you moving because then the light won’t be hitting you the way I want it to and it’ll be a mess.”

The golden-eyed boy didn’t reply, instead swallowing harshly as he realized that you were about to start painting him. He was now starting to realize that the position you had placed him in meant that his left side was facing the light, his scar fully visible especially since his hair was tied up.

Keeping his eyes on you, the Fire Lord began to shuffle slowly. He turned until he felt that his scar wasn’t fully on display, making sure to not draw your attention. Sighing softly, he stood still once again, glad that his little plan had worked.

At least, he thought it had until you glanced up, only for your gaze to harder when you noticed something was off. You bit your lip as you looked at the outline on your canvas before looking at Zuko before tucking your brush behind your ear and marching over to him.

“I told you not to move,” you stated gruffly, grabbing his shoulders and moving him back to how he originally was. Nodding once, you turned and walked back to the easel, only to turn around and groan out loud when you realized Zuko had once again turned slightly. Despite the annoyed look on your face, Zuko couldn’t hold back a small smile. 

“Zuko,” you said in exasperation, rubbing the bridge of your nose before repositioning him again. “What is the issue here? I need you to stay in this position so that I can capture your face perfectly.”

You stared at him expectantly, your gaze unnerving. He fidgeted slightly before releasing a quick breath. “It’s just, it’s...”

He trailed off, quietly muttering the rest of his words. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, looking at him. “What?”

“It’s my scar!” Zuko said bitterly, looking down. “The issue here is that my scar is visible.”

You scoffed louder than you meant to, causing his gaze to snap to you. “That’s the issue? Zuko, first of all, that scar is a part of you. It’s not going anywhere anytime soon okay? Second of all, yeah you might get insecure, but everyone has scars that they have to deal with; both physical and emotional. You shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. Third, your father gave you that scar and as horrible as that is, it helped you become a benevolent leader, which is something that this nation has needed for a long, long time. Lastly, that scar doesn’t make you any less handsome than you would’ve been without it.”

Zuko’s eyes widened at your little speech before a blush overcame his features at your last sentence.

“Now please, for the sake of the spirits, stand still,” you breathed out, planting him firmly in the place he originally was before heading back to your painting.

The rest of the painting session passed in silence, Zuko’s eyes never leaving yours as he kept replaying your words in his head. You felt his gaze, of course, and it took everything in you to not drop your brush whenever you looked up at him. More than a few times, you found a blush staining your cheeks and you found yourself hoping that Zuko didn’t notice it.

Zuko noticed.

~ When you were done with the portrait, you sighed deeply. You quickly wiped your face, unknowingly getting paint on your cheek.

“Well,” you chirped, motioning for Zuko to walk over to you. “I’m finished.”

Zuko approached you slowly, a little hesitant to see how it had turned out. When he finally saw the painting, he felt his eyes widen as he inhaled sharply. Your smile dropped at his reaction, a sad frown appearing on your face.

“You don’t like it,” you stated sadly, wringing your hands before smiling weakly. “T-That’s fine. I told you that you should’ve waited for Torran.”

You managed to tear your eyes away from the Fire Lord and began packing up your things, your heart feeling heavy in your chest. You didn’t get far before Zuko reached out, grasping your hand in his as he felt guilt creeping up on him. He had noticed your sad expression and all he wanted to do was smack himself for causing it.

“N-No, I...” Zuko glanced at the painting before looking into your eyes. “I love it.”

Silence engulfed the two of you for a few seconds as you got lost in his golden eyes.

“Are you sure?” you whispered, your eyes never leaving his. “Because if you’re lying to make me feel better, you don’t have to do that.”

Zuko shook his head before speaking, finally breaking eye contact as he shyly looked down. “No, I’m telling you the truth. I’m just surprised because for once, I don’t hate how I look with my scar.”

You smiled at his words, squeezing his hand softly. “I’m glad you feel that way Fire Lord Zuko.”

He smiled back, rolling his eyes at his title before gazing into your eyes once more. His other hand came up to cup your cheek, a bright blush coating your face as his hand ghosted over your skin. The two of you found yourselves leaning in slightly, eyes never straying.

“You have a bit of paint right...here,” Zuko mumbled, his thumb gently swiping across the apple of your cheek. You didn’t respond, you didn’t think you could. Instead you brought up your other hand as well, carefully wrapping it around his.

Zuko had just convinced himself to steal a kiss from you when a voice interrupted the two of you.

“Ah the portrait is finished. I must say you did an exceptional job (Y/N),” Iroh spoke, stepping into view.

“U-Uncle,” Zuko stuttered, stepping away from you as though a fire had been lit under him. “How long have you been out here?”

Iroh shot the two of you a knowing glance before turning back to the portrait. “I just got out of my meeting and I wanted to see how the painting was coming along. I must say, I am very glad you didn’t stick with the more traditional style. This is a lot more you, Zuko.”

“It was (Y/N)’s idea,” Zuko stated simply, shooting you a smile.

You laughed lightly before proceeding to pick up all your supplies, shooting a thankful look to Iroh as he helped you. You carefully picked up the canvas, balancing it in one hand in order to be able to pick up the easel only to find Zuko holding it already.

Iroh and Zuko walked you back to the front of the palace, where your ride was waiting for you.

“Well,” you began, smiling at the two men. “I’ll make sure to have the finished portrait by the time you return Zuko. Thank you for being such a great model. I hope you have safe travels and I hope you have a great week Iroh.”

Iroh wished you a safe trip before nudging Zuko, who then did the same. Once you were out of sight, Iroh reached up and hit Zuko’s head.

“Ow! What was that for?” the Fire Lord asked, rubbing the spot his uncle had hit.

“She is very talented isn’t she Zuko?” Iroh simply said in response, shooting his nephew a sly look. “And very beautiful.”

Zuko didn’t say anything, but his blush said enough for Iroh.

“You should try to woo her when you return from Ba Sing Se,” the once-general commented, turning around and heading back into the palace.

“What do you think I was trying to do in the garden, uncle?” the Fire Lord replied, throwing his hands up exasperatedly as he followed Iroh back into the palace.

And woo you he did. A week later, you delivered the finished portrait to the palace and instead of leaving, you found yourself sitting next to Zuko in the garden, lounging under a tree as you fed the turtle ducks together.

~

okay the ending felt a bit weird but other than that i’m really proud of this fic and i hope y’all enjoy it and i’m posting this instead of a sokka one bc i’m excited about it but keep an eye out for a sokka fic soon!

[swiftiesimonriley]

it only takes a moment (modern! maxwell lord x f! reader - only one bed!)

modern! maxwell lord x f! reader ft. only one bed!

summary: after a planned trip goes awry, what happens when you, Alistair’s nanny, and max only have one bed to share?

warnings: mentions of drinking and sex (no smut in this work), mentions of bad weather and turbulence on a plane, anxiety

a/n: this is my first maxwell oneshot!! thank you to the anon who suggested it! my masterlist is here and my requests are open! also this is not beta read - we die like men KSJDHAKKS

To say this was one of the longest days ever would be an understatement.

Your day started like any other. Waking up around 6:15am, you quietly pad into your bathroom and wash your face, taking a few minutes to complete your skincare routine and brush your teeth before making your way back into your bedroom.

Going over to your desk, you pick up your outfit you laid out the night before, a comfortable pair of leggings and an oversized crew neck with the name of the college you went to on it.

You hold the wooly sweatshirt in your hands, a smile tugging at your lips at the memories of your time back on campus. While it’s been less than a year since you graduated, you still hold the memories close.

One memory in particular plays on a loop in your head.

It was last May. You were sat in a back booth with some friends of your favorite bar in the city.

You were celebrating the new job you had just been hired at - as a full-time nanny for a single father with a young boy.

It was no secret that you had struggled finding a job after graduation. You had put in a lot of work at your time here at school, but you felt a pit of sadness in your heart at graduation when all of your friends had already secured jobs and a future for themselves.

You felt the sadness when you didn’t know how you were going to make ends meet - you had student loans, bills and other things piling more and more stress on - but when you found an ad for a nanny job, you were over the moon.

After your interview with the assistant to the single father, who must be very busy or important if he has an assistant, you were thrilled when you got the news you were hired.

The assistant explained her boss was a high-profile man, and that he wanted to be the one to introduce himself to you, which you had no problem with. You also would be a live in nanny, meaning you would have your own space within the house.

With the job starting tomorrow, your friends decided tonight would be the night to celebrate, wanting to “send you off” with one last night out before your job started.

A couple of rounds of drinks in, you felt a sudden burst of energy - whether it be a real energy boost or the tension leaving your body from the numerous drinks you’ve had throughout the night - but suddenly you make your way over to the makeshift dance floor.

You feel the beat of the music flow through you as your friends come and dance with you for a while, losing track of time in the small bar as the night goes on. It’s after several more songs that you feel a set of big hands rest gently on your hips and a strong, yet comforting scent of cologne filling your nose.

“I hope you don’t mind me being a bit forward angel, but I couldn’t help but notice you from across the bar, and I have to say you are absolutely gorgeous,” the man says confidently, his fingers rubbing a soft pattern into the flesh of your hips.

You turn your head to the side to lock eyes with the handsome stranger, his brown eyes like swirls of chocolate and honey reflect the colorful lights of the bar back into your own.

A smile plays at his lips as you take in his styled appearance, his clothes fitting him in all of the right places, almost like they were made just for him.

“You see something you like darling?” he asks soothingly, the smile on his face morphing to a playful smirk as you nod back at him faster than you can say something.

He lets out a hearty chuckle and gives one of your hips a squeeze as he presses his front firmly up against your back, a small gasp leaving your lips as you feel how he is pressed against your ass, and you have to stop yourself from arching into his chest.

“Let’s get out of here,” you whimper, feeling the room get hotter as he stays close to your body, wanting to get some privacy with him before you drop to your knees right here on the sticky floor of the bar.

He nods along with your suggestion, gently grasping your hand in his and leading you to an awaiting taxi.

A shiver runs down your spine at the memory of that night. The more your mind lingers on that night, you swear you can almost feel him back between your legs and hear the whimpers of praise in your ear.

But of course that once in a lifetime high from your hookup turned into a nightmare the next day, when you realized that the gorgeous man next to you was not only the famous Maxwell Lord, but that he is the man you were to work under as a nanny.

Sure it was awkward when you came back to Max's house in the morning after sneaking out a few hours earlier, preteding that the two of you didn't have mindblowing sex the night before, instead opting to focus on the specifics of the job. 

Max explained that he was a very busy man - something you already knew - and that he really appreciates what you are doing for him and Alistair, and that he knows his son will love spending time with you.

That was a year ago.

Now the tension had gone down significantly, but you would be lying to yourself if you said you still didn't think about Max in the way you did that night with him. There were times when you caught him staring at you from across the room, feeling his eyes on you as you played with his son, a smile tugging at his lips.

There were nights where you laid lonely in your bedroom, wondering what would happen if you went down the hall to the master bedroom and joined your boss, but you stopped yourself from picturing what could happen.

You slip on your sweatshirt, brush out and twist your hair, opting to put it in one of you claw clips, a few stray pieces framing your face in all of the right ways.

Making your way out of your room you head down the hallway to Alistair’s room, knocking lightly before peeking your head in and letting him know it’s time to start waking up.

Today was a travel day.

Max was attending a conference down in DC and decided to bring you and Alistair along so he could spend some time with his son, as well as turn this little trip into a mini vacation. He planned on visiting several museums that he knows Ali will love, like the natural history museum and air and space museum, but also the national gallery of art for you as well.

He didn’t tell you he rented out the museum so it would be just the three of you. He wanted that to be a surprise.

You grab your small duffel bag for travel and make your way down the grand staircase, placing the bag near the front door as you head to the kitchen, starting to grab the ingredients to make belgian waffles - Alistair’s favorite.

Turning on the coffee pot, you hum to yourself as you mix the ingredients together to make breakfast, making sure to lay out three plates. As you pour the batter into the waffle maker, you make quick work of cutting up some fresh strawberries to serve on the side.

Hearing two pairs of footsteps coming down the stairs, as well as an accompanying giggle, you turn to see Max chasing Alistair through the foyer and towards the kitchen island, with Max laughing as he picks up his son and plops him down onto the barstool in front of him.

A smile pulls at your lips as you slide Max a mug of coffee, getting a nod of appreciation in return before he helps you plate up breakfast, encouraging his son to eat up so you all can get going.

Max had arranged for one of his private planes to fly the three of you out, telling you it would be much more relaxing than taking a normal flight, to which you rolled your eyes.

No matter how long you had been working for Max, you still aren’t used to how causal he is with spending his wealth. Especially when it came to you.

It was no secret Max had a sweet spot for you.

How could he not? It wasn’t all about that first night - sure he still thinks about it when he’s alone - but it’s about all of you. He loves the way that when he comes home it feels so domestic - you and Alistair either running around the house playing games or cooking or baking together - something about it feels so right to him.

But he doesn’t want to make things weird between the two of you.

He hopes this special trip will help him out a little bit.

“Alright, the only room we have left is room 5. Is that ok Mr. Lord?”

Max nods as the small bed and breakfast owner hands over the key. He turns to look at you with tired eyes, seeing Alistair leaning up against you, barely awake.

Grabbing your bags, Max makes quick work of guiding you and Ali down the long hallway of numbered rooms until the three of you were gathered outside of room five.

Opening the door with the key, Max leads the two of you inside the small two room suite, dropping the bags unceremoniously onto the carpet as Ali lays down on the couch in the “living room” which consisted of a small kitchenette, a couch and two comfy chairs, a tv, and kitchen table with chairs.

“I knew he was tired, but not that tired,” you chuckle, pointing to the couch where Ali is fast asleep, one of the stuffed animals you had bought for him tucked under his arm.

Max let’s out a huff of frustration as he sits down on one of the soft chairs, running a hand through his now messy locks.

“Hey,” you say soothingly, making your way to the chair next to Max’s and sit down. You reach out a hand and place it on Max’s shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze.

At the feeling of your touch, a pair of brown eyes looks up and lock with yours, Max’s brow furrowed in not only frustration but stress.

The past several hours didn’t go as any of you planned.

The plane ride started out as usual, Max siting comfortingly in his seat and looking over some documents for his upcoming meeting. You and Alistair were sat in your own seats, playing with a new copy of Mad Libs, with Alistair giggling as you read out the story he created.

You were probably in the air for about 45 minutes when you hit a patch of bad weather, the plane going through a bit of turbulence.

Feeling the plane rock, your hand immediately shoots out to grab onto Max’s, your eyes locking with his in fear as he squeezes your hand, sending a small wave of comfort throughout your body.

The pilot comes over the speaker to inform you that he needs to make an emergency landing while the weather passes, and you feel your heartbeat pick up as the plane begins to descend, hearing Max comfort Ali from his seat.

It’s when the plane is grounded, that you begin to process what just happened - you find it hard to catch your breath as your bags are unloaded from the plane.

“Hey hey hey,” a soothing, familiar deep voice says, “we’re okay, alright? Let’s find somewhere we can stay so you and Ali can rest.”

“What about you? You need rest too after today,” you sigh, feeling Max place his hand on the small of your back, grabbing a few bags and grabbing Ali’s hand as the three of you make your way towards the taxi the small airport called for you.

“I’m not too worried about it,” Max reassures, helping you load everything into the taxi before helping you inside.

The bed and breakfast you were staying at was hours outside of DC, but you could always find a cat tomorrow and drive down to make it to Max’s meeting. It was the only place nearby with availability, even if it was only one room.

You break eye contact with Max, telling him you are going to run to the bathroom real quick. You stand up and walk over to the door to the bedroom, turning the knob open and gasping as you look inside.

“What’s wrong?” Max worriedly presses, still on edge from earlier. He jumps up and makes his way over, ready to face whatever danger may be behind the door, but feels his eyes widen as he sees the one singular bed in the center of the room.

“Oh,” he sighs, seeing you have the same reaction. The two of you haven’t shared a bed since that first night, and the two of you never spoke of it again.

“I can sleep in one of the chairs,” you blurt out, not fully thinking before the words come out. You can’t imagine sharing a bed with your boss, with Max, after what happened last time. It just would be too awkward.

“No no, you don’t have to do that,” he reassures, “I’ll sleep on the chair,” he suggests, getting a head shake from you. You don’t want him to be uncomfortable because of you, but you also don’t want to push the boundaries.

He lets out a sigh as he runs his hand through his hair again, something he would do when stressed over something such as a business proposal or shareholder meeting, but this was different.

You take a deep breath and turn to look at the tall man, watching as his eyes look down to meet yours. God he was so pretty. Has he always been this pretty?

“How about we just both sleep in the bed Max, that way we can both be comfortable and get some sleep before our drive tomorrow,” you rush out, looking down at your feet to avoid his gaze.

Max stays quiet for a moment, thinking over the benefits of actually sleeping in a bed, with you in it. After today, he feels like he could fall asleep instantly, so maybe it’ll be that way in the bed.

“Alright,” he sighs, “I’m going to change in the bathroom.”

You nod as he reaches down to grab his designer travel bag, heading off to the attached bathroom before shutting the door, missing the way your face heats up at the thought of sharing a bed with him.

You will yourself to get changed quickly, not wanting Max to walk in on you changing, even if he’s seen you undressed before.

Grabbing your bag, you search through for your pajamas, which consist of a pair of striped sleep shorts and an old oversized tshirt. Letting your hair down, you feel a heavy weight of exhaustion flow over you like an ocean wave, and your body subconsciously makes it’s way over to the small bed and lets you settle in.

Max walks out of the en-suite bathroom a few moments later, clad in his custom Armani pajamas and makes his way over to the bed, seeing you already tucked under the covers and turned away from him.

He lets out a sigh as he peels back his side of the covers, letting his body slip into his side of the bed and relax, the bed feeling like a cloud under his tense muscles. Letting his eyes flutter closed, he wills himself to fall asleep fast.

“Max?” you whisper, turning over to lay on your back.

The older man lets out a quiet groan, flipping over to face you. “Yes?”

“Why don’t you date?”

The question nearly makes his eyes shoot out of his head. Was he dreaming?

“I uh-,” he starts, letting out a small cough and staring up at the ceiling. “I haven’t found someone i’d want to bring home.”

He doesn’t miss the small “mhm” you let out, the air becoming thick with tension.

“Why don’t you date?” He questions back, feeling a little bold. If you could ask him, why couldn’t he ask you.

You let out a small laugh, “Of course you’d ask,” you laugh, taking a deep breath before closing your eyes. It’s now or never. After the turbulence situation, it made you realize that things aren’t guaranteed. Hell, if it bothers him Max can find another nanny.

“I haven’t found anyone i’d want to bring home since I met you.”

Max feels his throat tighten up. He immediately turns towards you and sees you have opened your eyes back up, and are looking right at him. Fuck, is this really happening?

“Me?” he asks excitedly, trying to stay calm as his nanny confesses her true feelings right before his very eyes.

“Yes you, unless there is some other Maxwell Lord that I have slept with and work for!” you laugh, feeling the anxiety in your chest start to fade away. You watch Max closely, swearing you can see stars in his eyes as your confession escapes your lips.

Max smiles to himself, letting out a small chuckle to himself before looking back at you. He scoots a little closer to you, not wanting to overcrowd you, but wanting to close the space between you two. He reaches forward and brushes a stray piece of hair away from your face, watching as a faint blush rises upon your cheeks.

“Can I hold you?” He asks softly, almost as if you would disappear if he spoke louder. You nod back at him, turning on your side so that your back is pressed up against his front.

Adjusting the covers around you both, Max brings you closer to his body and places his strong arm around your waist, holding you softly, yet securely, as if he would never let go. He settles his face into your neck and takes in your soft scent of coconut and something else sweet, never wanting to forget the scent.

You both let your eyes flutter shut, set on getting some rest. Feeling Max rubbing a familiar pattern on your hip, you feel yourself start to drift off comfortably, only feeling butterflies in your tummy, but the good kind.

Tomorrow you both can talk about your feelings, but right now you just want to lie in Max’s arms, and never have him let you go

taglist: @salome-c @jasterslegacy @marydjarin @hnt-escape

[adamfoolcry]

of coffees and holidays (d.sc)

pairings: Ballerina!Sicheng x CafeOwner!FemReader

rating: 13+

warnings: swearing

genre: angst and fluff

synopsis: Your and Sicheng's love story in five coffees with varying degrees of sweetness spanning five Christmases.

word count: 3k+

a/n: for @127-mile, I hope I did justice for your prompt. Hope you enjoy reading it. Happy Holidays! 🎅 Thank you to @neoculturechristmas for organizing such fun event. It can be read in chronological order if y'all wanted to. I promise it's a happy ending. Not proofread so please excuse the mistakes, I am so dumb. Please reach out to me if you would like to do so. - xo aria

Christmas 2019 - Espresso

Outside as flakes of snow fell from the sky, like a light shower of glitter from the heavens, the elusive holiday spirit seemingly present in the air; you watched a young couple huddled together to share warmth, fingers intertwined, cheeks glowing red partnered with coy smiles on their faces, and a family of three in admiration of their son as he showed off his Christmas gift. The streetlights emitting an orange glow providing an aura of softness, making everything come together to form a picturesque scene.

Heartwarming as these scenes were, they failed to evoke any emotion out of you; if anything you feel excluded from it entirely. To you the world behind the cafe's glass windows is just a film you're screening in the cinemas, and you were nothing but a mere spectator. You continue to stare listlessly at the throngs of people passing by until they all mesh into a blur of colors your eyes couldn't catch fast enough. That's better.

Inside the cafe although decorated with trinkets for the holidays there was an air of sadness permeating every corner and seated itself onto the furnishings. Lately it seems like sadness is following you around everywhere - like a shadow - and instead of trailing behind you it looms over you shrouding your every thought until it completely consumes you.

No one stepped foot inside the cafe and with no one to entertain your mind drifts to him. Sicheng.

How many days has it been? Since you last saw him. You've lost count, a lie you tell yourself to make the dull ache in your chest bearable. 

It's a torture how you could recall that day - the day you lost him - so vividly as if you are forced to relive it every time the silence eats away at your resolve; to tuck the moment into the deep recesses of your mind, where it can't hurt you. When every little thing reminds you of him, his favorite spot at the cafe, black turtlenecks and that undeleted grainy picture of his sitting in your gallery. 

You could never forget the look on his face, resignation etched into every crevice of his features, a forlorn smile on his lips. 

"I see," he said in a bittersweet tone before he turned his back at you. 

The slam of the door is the nail that hits the coffin. Sicheng is gone. He has already walked out of your life. That was the last you saw of him for he never visited the cafe again.

A month passed by when Sicheng called you. Your heart leaped as his name flashed on your screen and your thumb shakily pressed the answer button; afterwards lifting it near your ear.

There was no greeting as he uttered in his low voice that you have missed so much, "My flight to Russia is this Saturday." 

Your heart sank.

"I want you to see me off, ______." 

Don't go please stay with me but there are certain thoughts that weren't meant to be put into words so instead, "I'll be there." You reassured him.

But you never showed up at the airport that Saturday. Instead, you were at the cafe staring at the screen of your phone blinking on and off as a wave of notifications with his name flooded your phone. Why make things harder? As if him leaving wasn't hard enough. You pressed the power button long enough to shut down your phone.

The following days passed away into months that's a haze in your mind. You can't recall anything worth remembering. You quickly filled up your schedule with mundane tasks just to have something to do filling every gap of your vacant time. 

At night you fell straight to bed, your body collapsing from the physical strain you have subjected it with. Establishing a packed routine without idle time so you don't have time to linger on the dull ache in your chest - always there like a festering wound. This works until you find your list of chores unexpectedly accomplished earlier than you planned, the cafe shrouded in still quietness. 

Alone with nothing else to do the dull ache amplified to a crippling one and it bites you right back in your face, forcing you to acknowledge the hollow feeling that seems to reside in your chest permanently. Your eyes would be heavier, your vision blurry, trying to blink away the tears but ultimately failing as it trails down your cheeks; you clutch at your chest because it hurts and you regret that the last you'll see of Sicheng is that face of hurt he wore.

Christmas 2016 - Vanilla Latte

You placed the cup of vanilla latte sitting on a saucer on the table daintily, pushing the saucer across the wooden table towards the customer, avoiding to make any noise. The customer seemed so engrossed with the novel he is reading - nose almost touching the pages - that you don't want to disturb him. 

The said customer is a regular, there was not a month that he hasn't visited the cafe. Showing up five minutes after you flip the signage to open, with no fail not even a minute late. 

Wearing all black from head to toe, a tall lithe figure, and an androgynous facial structure, your guess is that he works as a model. Even now without trying he is captivating; he makes the cafe look like a set for a magazine spread just by lounging in the matching cherry wood table and chair, and you can't help but stand there and shamelessly stare at him. god really has his favorites.

His work must require him to travel to different countries and have photoshoots in scenic spots, oh how you wish you could also jetset to other countries. Packed schedule for the day that he doesn't have time to think about what he is going to do next. That is a luxury you don't have especially in the ber months for there is a decline in customers and with no one to entertain, your mind goes on an overdrive pondering on uncharted waters of how you have nothing else going for you but run this cafe.

Aside from his penchant to wear all black, read a novel while drinking his choice of beverage - choice of beverage you ask? - you see the other peculiar thing about this man is that he doesn't have a 'regular drink'. Most if not all people who go to a cafe know what they are going to order before they have set foot inside. This man doesn't, his eyes would flit on the menu, scanning from left to right and back again. It is almost ritual like, this would go on for a good minute or two as you drum your fingers on the counter waiting for his order. 

The snow is falling outside covering the otherwise grey pavement white, decorations for the festivities hung around the four corners of your quaint cafe. Yet here he is, nursing a cup of coffee instead of being somewhere else. Doesn't he have a family? to celebrate Christmas with?

"Can I help you?" The man said, turning his face slightly in your direction not quite yet abandoning the book in his hand.

"Ohh uhmm-" you were jolted out of your trance, startled you took a sidestep only to collide with the chair where a large unzipped duffel bag was placed. The contents of the bag spilled over. 

"Shit! I am sorry." You quickly knelt to the ground to pick up the scattered items on the floor, the man joined you. Charger, earphones, epsom salt, bandage, and tiger balm ointment as you picked up the items you also increasingly grew baffled. What a weird assortment of things. You reached for the item that somehow managed to get under the table and as your fingers came in contact with the rough material of the cloth you learned that your assumption of his job was wrong. A man's canvas ballet shoes.

I thought he was a model.

"What?" The man questioned. You wince to yourself you just didn't say that out loud. You emerge from under the table to find that the man was looking at you too intently for your liking. His eyes sought out yours waiting for an explanation and as if you owe him one you started explaining yourself. 

"Well, you are tall and extremely handsome so .." Cringing as the words flew out of your mouth. The man chuckled at your confession, a tell tale sign of a smile on the corner of his lips.

"I am flattered really but as you can deduct by now I actually do ballet." He rose to his feet and offered you his hand to help you stand up. 

Unlike other days where he will leave the cafe after an hour or two, this time he stayed and unlike other days where you find yourself alone in the cafe; you find yourself enjoying the company of this mysterious man. 

Where you quickly learned that all your presumptions about him have little truth in it. You learned that his name is Sicheng, and he is a principal dancer for the Korean National Ballet company not a model although with his looks he might as well be one. Yes, he travels but mostly for tours and performances. He practices an average of eight hours a day. 

Your fascination for his life spurred the conversation as if you were friends catching up with each other. With the book set aside and the contents of the cup long empty you two didn't notice how much time had passed. He bid you goodbye with a promise to visit you again tomorrow. As you watch his retreating figure getting smaller, the snow piling on top of each other over the glass windows of the cafe there was a smile on your lips - the warmth of a newfound friendship is akin to a good cup of coffee - making you warm from the inside out.

Christmas 2017 - Cappuccino

"Surprise me," Sicheng said leaning on his hip at the counter, arms crossed on his chest, when you asked him what he would like to drink. Standing there he looked like the culmination of your dreams.

Maybe it's the iridescent lights from the numerous christmas lights that flickered on his face making him look more exquisite or the grin he gave you after. You did surprise him but not in the way he was expecting and to be honest you are also shocked by your sudden brazenness as you lean in to kiss his plush lips. The kiss didn't last long, a little more than a peck but long enough for you to regret it.

"I .. I am sorry," you stammered burying your heating up face in your hands, embarrassed. You didn't even see Sicheng's reaction, was he appalled? You peeked through your fingers to find out, when Sicheng started laughing, tipping his head back a little, eyes crinkled in mirth, his right hand covering the half of his handsome face. 

You want nothing more than to shrivel up in one corner. He started tugging at your wrists, pulling your hands away from your burning face.

"Mind giving me more of that surprise?" The corner of his lips curved upwards, nose slightly crinkled, and you wished to etch his face to memory.

Christmas 2018 - Americano

He was late, you glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, it is now 11 P.M. and soon Christmas will be over. 

The americano you have prepared already cold, his untouched while yours halfway finished. It's fine though because you know that this will be the first of the many Christmases you have to spend without Sicheng. You must get used to spending it alone again. 

Musing to yourself your mind quickly took a trip down the memory lane of his last visit to the cafe before he got on tour with the company for one of the holiday stage productions. 

--------

You have only heard the thud of the door as it closed on its hinges. You are currently cleaning the countertop back bowed and eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you meticulously scrubbed at the stubborn grease that won’t budge, lifting your head to do the customary greeting, when something or rather someone barreled straight to where you are, engulfing you in a tight hug that shoved you headfirst into that someone’s chest your nose burrowed deeply into the black cloth. 

Recognizing the intoxicating scent of light musk and citrus, relief flooded you as you hugged Sicheng back. You don't know how long the two of you stayed in that position basking yourself with his warmth just a little longer.

He's real, he's here a safe and solid presence by your side. You can count by one hand the things that have endured with you throughout the years, other than the cafe which you have run since your mother got sick, dropping out of college to keep it going. And one of those is Sicheng you've found in him stability and comfort your past partners can't give you.

Sicheng pulled away putting some distance between the two of you, his arms naturally falling at his sides. He was wearing one of his brightest smiles, the apple of his cheeks high and pronounced on his face.

"_______, I've been offered the position of principal dancer at Bolshoi Ballet in Russia," He can't help but smile again clearly enthusiastic with the prospect of joining one of the most prestigious ballet companies.

It took you a moment to answer settling with an unconvincing, "Wow." You don't know how to react with his news, but you feel dread in the pit of your stomach. You don't like the idea of him leaving. You try not to let it show in your face.

"I know. I was also surprised." As if sensing the change in your demeanor he asked concerned, "Is something wrong, ______?" 

"Nothing let me whip you a drink I found from the net," you brushed him off with a wave of your hand. 

----------

"Hey _______, I am sorry there was some minor traffic that held us back," Sicheng announced his entrance that broke your reverie. Setting his duffel bag on the floor to sit on the opposite chair facing you.

His hair tousled, cheeks rosy and nose red but despite his healthy complexion you can also see the pronounced bags under his eyes with a tinge of violet. He looks tired and in dire need of rest. Yet he headed straight to the cafe instead of his apartment. 

"Sicheng I've wanted to tell you something," perching your arms on the table to fiddle with the ear of the cup.

"Yeah?" Sicheng asked, staring right at you.

"I think," you cast your eyes down on the table, and with a small voice continued, "we should break up." 

"You think?" 

"I mean we should"

"Why?"

"I ... it's just that it will be easier for you." Your hands started gesticulating in the air.

"Don't give me that bull shit. You are not the judge of that," Sicheng replied in a cold manner.

"It's just you have this life before me and you'll also have a life after me." Your voice cracked, and you gathered your strength to look at him. "I am grateful that you have been a part of my life. You are crazy talented and right now the world opens up in front you and you deserve better. I can't give you that I ..-," clutching at your chest, "I am just me."

"It's nice to know that you think of me as some temporary phase in your life and here I am fool enough to think that maybe you'll want to come with me to Russia," a cruel laugh slipped from his lips, "christ, I can't even choose what coffee I'll be having and finally for once in my life I've never been so sure of anything," voice trailing, "but us.

"So I'll still ask because I know I will regret it, if I don't. Do you want to come with me?" Sicheng pierced you with his eyes, wearing his heart out on a sleeve. Leaving himself unguarded and hoping you'll come through.

But you have never been brave. "I'll stay and you go."

"I see," he said in a bittersweet tone before he turned his back at you. 

Christmas 2020 - White Chocolate Mocha

"I told you Renjun you don't have to do your shift at Christmas." You look up to reprimand Renjun, and instead are met with familiar feline eyes that seem to see right through you. There stood Sicheng looking like an intricate piece of art displayed in the museums. It is more painful to look at him than anybody warned it would be. It hurts how familiar you are with him still dressed in black - turtleneck and slacks, his trusty duffel bag hanging on one shoulder, he's still the same but now you are nothing more than a past fling to him.

"Hey," Sicheng walked towards the counter greeting you.

"Hey," you shake your head from the trance that took over you, "Oh I'll make you something."

"I'll have a white chocolate mocha." Slightly surprised by his request it took you a second to start preparing it.

"When did you come back?" You inquired as you moved about to prepare his drink.

"Yesterday night" 

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have fetched me?" He asked nonchalantly.

You momentarily stiffen evading to answer the question you throw another at him, "How are you? Is Russia treating you well?"

"Can we cut the crap out? As much as I love dancing, I don't like dancing around in circles. I've come back for one reason only." 

"Will you come with me to London?"

Looking at Sicheng standing there - after how much you have hurt him - you thought you will never see him again and you have long accepted that punishment. You are not brave and you will never be but

"Yes, I'd love to go with you."

what you have with him is worth it.

a/n: Read more of my works for NCT here:masterlist

[pinoyrella]

“A Love So Beautiful” Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Two Days and One Night

FT: Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi Tadashi, Hinata Shoyo, Kageyama Tobio, Yachi Hitoka, Fukurodani + Nekoma + Nohebi

TW: Mild Language + Minor Injuries (Kuroo get a lil booboo, Yaku ankle go brrr)

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst, Coming of Age + Slow Burn

- This chapter contains fluff, comedy and drama.

WORD COUNT: 5,000+

“A LOVE SO BEAUTIFUL” Masterlist 🌸

A/N: HIIIII omg how r u guys 🥺 i was having a hard time figuring out how to... do this chapter, but i hope you enjoy! pls forgive me for the cringe and cheesiness of everything i fken swear im trying but i- ToT call me macaroni bc i be cheesy 🙈

PS: This chapter is taking place during the Cats vs. Owls OVA that comes after season 3! (and also a few minutes of s3 ep10)... I’m trying my best to line up the story w the actual series ToT, so it’s currently ur first year - spring time! Cherry blossom season is coming!!!🌸

A warm Friday afternoon.

“What do you guys think of this design?” Yachi asks as she passes a paper over to you and Tsukishima as Yamaguchi leans in from her side. You drop your pen to your notebook before picking up the small flyer, bringing it closer to the three of you.

“This looks great Yachi! What’s it for?” She stands immediately, her hands clenched into a fist while her eyes shine with excitement. “It’s a rough sketch for the volleyball club’s poster!” “Whoa, that’s so cool! So this is what a manager’s job is?” She nods as you hand the flyer back, smiling to your friend; happy that she’s having fun and enjoying her job.

“Hey” The four of you turn your heads, watching as Kageyama makes his way through the door. “AAAAAAAHHHHHH!” The sound of a familiar scream comes down the hallway.

The four of you watch as Hinata shoves past Kageyama, nearly knocking him over. “HEY!” Kageyama begins to charge until noticing the presence of his classmates. He lets out a low grumble before following the orange boy, making his way to you.

“GUYS!” Hinata jumps excitedly, looking between the four of you. “Look!” He pulls his phone out, facing it to you guys, completely ignoring Kageyama next to him. “What is it?” Yachi asks, confused. Hinata takes his phone back and realizes his photo gallery is on-screen. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi hide a snicker before he immediately changes it to his text messages, bringing the phone back to you guys.

On his screen shows the flyer for “Japan’s National Tournament, Tokyo Area Qualifiers”. The five of you look up to him in confusion as he continues, “Let’s go!”

...

“WHAT?”

-

And this is where you found yourself, a suitcase in hand as you make your way to your seat on the Shinkansen. You try to lift your suitcase above to the compartment, but the weight of the baggage slips past your grasp. You brace yourself for impact before you open your eyes to see it in the compartment above you. Feeling a presence to your left, you turn to find Kageyama.

“Let me help you from now on” he says softly, his hand resting on the back of a seat as one is holding onto the strap of his backpack. You immediately take a step back before thanking him, making your way to sit beside Yachi.

Just behind Kageyama is Hinata, following Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, as well as other passengers. Tsukishima, obviously unamused onto why there’s a hold up “Hey King, could you hurry up?” Kageyama realizes there’s a line of people behind him, immediately sitting in the seat to the front of you.

Hinata throws his luggage above before plopping down to the side of Kageyama, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima following.

The announcement for the bullet train begins, and you soon fall into a quiet slumber, your head resting against Yachi.

-

“Y/n, Yachi-san… Yachi! Y/N!” You are awakened to Yamaguchi’s voice “Wake up idiot, we’re here” You turn to find Tsukishima’s face just inches away from yours. Surprised, you jump, bumping your head against Yachi’s, waking you both up.

“Ah!” You both yelp, holding onto your heads. Kageyama turns from his seat to the sound of your cry, only to find Tsukishima’s face close to yours. “Tsukki!” You hiss before apologizing to Yachi.

“Come on guys, let’s go” Yamaguchi begins removing your luggages from the compartment above, as the six of you make your way off the train. Moving through the crowd of people towards the station.

-

“Are we there yet?” You yawn, still exhausted, before bumping into Tsukishima’s back. “We’re here, open your eyes idiot.” You slowly open your eyes, looking up to the building in front of you. “It looks so cozy” Yachi compliments as the six of you make your way inside. “Akaashi and Bokuto-san sent me this address, one of their teammates’ relatives owns this place!” Hinata says. “No wonder you’re able to provide a place for all of us to stay for the night” Tsukishima replies, before noticing you were no longer behind him.

The sound of a huff causes him to turn around. As he turns, he sees you struggling to move your luggage above the doorstep. Sighing, he makes his way to you, but Kageyama rushes past him, helping and assisting you instead. The carpet had stuck to the wheel of your suitcase.

Tsukishima’s eyes widened in shock by the sudden movement of his teammate, before rolling his eyes, turning his attention back to his other friends.

“Thanks Tobio!” You thank as he gives another smile. “I told you, let me help you from now on” He says, tapping the right of your shoulder; before the two of you walk after your group.

Hinata and Yamaguchi make their way to the register, collecting the room key as the six of you make your way to your room.

Yamaguchi inserts the key, twisting it before Hinata opens the door, jumping right in. “TA DA!” He cheers, the five of you walking in, Tsukishima yet again, unamused.

“This room is insanely big” You comment as you settle your suitcase to the side.

“It’s going to be like a sleepover!” Hinata exclaims, Yamaguchi turning his head. “Oh, you’re right Hinata!” “Thank god it’s only for one night.” Tsukishima bluntly adds, before exploring the cupboards.

Hinata then brings his wrist up to check the time. “AH!” “What?!” The five of you turn in concern for your friend’s sudden outburst. “We have to hurry!”

-

The sound of shoes squeaking against the floor echo throughout the building along with balls.

“Wow, so this is the Sumida City Gymnasium?” You walk ahead of your friends, looking around before turning to face them. “It’s so much bigger than the one in Sendai!” “Well, this is Tokyo” Tsukishima replies, Yamaguchi giving a sheepish smile, before the sound of squabbling catches your attention.

“WHAT WAS THAT?!” “Stop it Yamamoto, don’t let that snake bastard get to you.” The man in green smiles, pointing his finger to the calmer guy in red. “You always have that hair, are you sure you’re not lying about your height? Are you actually 180 cm-” “HUH?! I’d never do something so petty!”

You watch as the three go at it, before someone from the red team’s group notices you guys. “Shoyo?” One says quietly as he makes his way over to you guys.

“Kenma-san!” Hinata runs over, meeting Kenma half way as the five of you follow. You hear Kageyama mumbling. “Nekoma’s setter… Nekoma’s setter… Nekoma’s setter…”

“You made it” Kenma says before Hinata nods. “Bokuto-san sent me the flyer! Akaashi-san’s teammate gave us a place to stay, and it fell into our weekend, I didn’t want to miss it!” Kenma nods before turning to face you and the others, feeling chills down the spine of his back when making eye contact with Kageyama.

“Hey, it’s skinny!” Tsukishima jolts, as Nekoma’s team follows their captain, making their way to your group and Kenma. “Long time no see, don’t tell me you’ve grown taller” “Kuroo-san” You watch the two, before the one named Kuroo turns to you. “I haven’t seen you before” He leans down, closer to your height. Tsukishima watches as he does so, feeling a bit irritated. “Hmm”

You become flustered, unable to move as his face comes closer to yours, before you feel someone pull you behind. Kageyama stands in between you two, having you to his back, silently staring at the taller senior. Everyone is surprised by Kageyama’s action, especially Kuroo before eyeing back up to his regular level as he smiles down at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare your friend” Kageyama ignores him, turning to face you and whispering “Are you okay?” Kuroo is left shocked by being ignored, and his teammates snicker behind him.

“I- I-” You stutter, still flustered before another player, much calmer and collected from Nekoma, approaches you. The tall figure gives you a sincere apology for his captain’s behavior. “I’m sorry about that, our captain can be a little…” He turns to look back to Kuroo, before looking to you. “A little bitch” A much shorter boy with strawberry blonde hair joins in, Kenma letting out a snort.

“HUH?! YAKU- if anyone’s a little bitch it's your short ass, Mr. 165 cm.” “165.2 CM DICKWAD!” You watch as the two seniors get into a catfight before another player walks into the situation. “Kuroo-san!” Said man turns his attention to his teammate. “The girls’ game will be done soon”

Kuroo responds with an “alright” before collecting his team together. “Be sure to cheer us on, kitten~” He winks to you before bidding your friends a farewell, walking off.

-

Your team makes their way up the bleachers, listening to the announcer announce Fukurodani and Nekoma’s match. You watch as a very muscular man throws his jacket in the air, only for his teammate to catch it. “BOKUTO-SAN!” Hinata cheers besides you.

The crowd from Fukurodani’s side begins to chant, before Nekoma is announced. You turn your attention to a much shorter girl with a megaphone. “Go, go Nekoma! Push it, push it Nekoma!” “Great job Cheer Captain Akane!”

The bell goes off as both teams make it to their sides, the lineup and game beginning.

-

Watching as Fukurodani takes the first serve, you turn to see the excitement in both Hinata and Kageyama’s eyes.

Turning your attention back to the court, Akaashi proceeds to set the ball to Bokuto. Your eyes sparkle as you see how high the man can jump, then the sound of him smashing the ball, as it hit’s Kuroo’s palm, causing it to fly up.

You don't realize the direction it’s flying too, your eyes widening as the ball comes directly your way. You bring your palms up at the perfect time, catching the volleyball immediately in your hands. You stare at it in shock as all eyes turn to you.

“HEY! HEY! HEY!!!” Bokuto cheers along with his school, getting the point.

-

The game continues, Fukurodani taking the lead. “Holy crap, Bokuto is a beast” You watch as the millionth spike he hit touches the ground of Nekoma’s side. “Right?! He’s so cool! Hinata exclaims before you both turn to the court, only to notice a sudden change in Bokuto’s mood, after Kuroo blocks his spike.

The crowd goes silent, and you turn to Hinata making a face of confusion.

Bokuto’s attitude changes completely, causing a break to be issued, Akaashi giving the man a pep talk.

The break ends, and they are back to the game. You notice Bokuto’s attitude had gone back to his original state, as he becomes happy to spike yet again.

“It must have been Akaashi-san who brought Bokuto-san backup.” Tsukishima comments, crossing his arms as he becomes invested into the game. You turn to smile at him, not knowing he was actually watching.

-

The gym goes quiet, the final set, and Bokuto’s team is winning. Nekoma is under pressure before Bokuto sends one final spike down, earning the final win for Fukurodani.

Nekoma falls in defeat, you feel remorse along with Hinata for them, knowing Hinata really hoped to play against them at Nationals.

The six of you walk out of the gym. “So… Nekoma isn’t going to Nationals?” You ask, feeling stupid for asking such a question, before Yamaguchi speaks. “No, not unless they lose this next match.” “What?” “For Tokyo, unlike Miyagi, they have two Representative slots open, while a third for venue sponsorship.” He explains as you tilt your head, still confused. “Dumbass” Tsukishima jokingly insults, flicking your forehead. “There are four teams playing here, only one of those four won’t be able to go to Nationals. The other three, will be going. If Nekoma wins the next match against the other team, they will be going to Nationals” Tsukishima explains in a much easier way. “Ah! Thanks Tsukki!” You thank him, not even realizing he had called you a dumbass.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go cheer them on!” You exclaim, the five cheering after you. “Yeah!”

“Do you even know where the next match is being held?” You stop to turn, looking at Tsukishima. “Nope!” You say with a smile.

-

You follow as Yamaguchi leads you to another court, on the other side of the venue.

As you make your way past the gates, you stop with Yachi, the delicious scent of food surrounding the air. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima turn to see you too, before looking at each other. “Do you guys want to get food before the game starts?” You look up to your two friends, pleading with puppy eyes before Tsukishima sighs.

“Hinata, Kageyama!” Yamaguchi calls his friends ahead of them. The two stop to turn as you run up to them. “Do you guys want anything from the stalls?” You ask. “You guys can go find the seats! I can take care of everything myself!” You state, as Tsukishima looks to you. “By yourself? You have two hands. Two hands. You barely even know how to use them, and there’s six of us. There’s no way you can gather food for everyone, and make it back in one piece.” The blonde bean pole says, before you give him a pout.

“I’ll go with you boss.” Kageyama butts in, standing to your side as he ruffles your hair. “Tobio! Stop doing that” You laugh as you fix your hair before looking back to Tsukishima. “That settles it! Now go, get us seats!” You shoo your friends away before walking away with Kageyama, missing the glare Tsukishima gives Kageyama.

-

Standing in front of a takoyaki stall, you order the biggest plate, before noticing Kageyama to the stall besides you. Paying for your order and taking the ticket, you make your way to Kageyama as he pays for something.

“What did you get?!” You ask him in excitement. He jumps in surprise by your sudden presence before looking down to you, bringing the item he had brought up to your view. You stare as it dangles from his fingertips, a cute trinket in the shape of a strawberry milk carton. You blink before he grabs the ends of your bag, bringing it up to his level.

You watch in confusion as he is attaching it to your bag’s zipper, before speaking.

“It’s for you” He looks to meet you eyes as he gently drops your bag, letting it hang off your arm again. You stare at him, before looking down to it, then back up to him. “What? Tobio-” “It just reminded me of you.” He says giving a soft smile before taking the ticket from your hand and walking back to the takoyaki stall.

You watch as he walks off, looking down to the keychain with a small smile, really grateful for a friend like him.

-

Making your way into the gym, you scan to find Yamaguchi waving for you. “Kageyama- Y/n! Over here!” You make your way to them, Kageyama follows with the box of takoyaki in his hands. Handing out the sticks, you push Kageyama to be in the middle, then opening the lid to the box.

“It smells so good!” Hinata exclaims as he’s about to poke his stick into a ball. “Thank you y/n!” Yamaguchi and Yachi say in sync, as you make your way to Tsukishima, handing him a stick before he declines. “Are you not hungry?” “Not really” He bluntly replies, you pout again before turning back to the others, stabbing your stick into a ball.

Then turning your attention back to the court, seeing the game between Nekoma and Nohebi has already begun.

-

“Lev! Stop flailing your arms around! I can’t dig the damn ball!” Yaku yells, scolding the taller boy. “But Yaku-san, you’ll still get the ball no matter what!” He snaps back frustrated. You watch as the Yaku scratches the back of his head, taking it as a compliment. Kuroo gives him a look of annoyance before resuming back to their positions.

The game between the two continues, Nohebi taking the lead as Nekoma fights back. Just as Nohebi’s captain is about to spike, Lev jumps, sending it flying upwards. “One touch!” He yells, as Yamamoto runs after to hit it, then causing it to fly further away. “Shit!”

Just as the ball makes it into the audience, you watch as Yaku catches up to it, sending it back to the court. “WOW!” You cheer for him, impressed by his quick reflexes. Turning your attention towards the ball, you watch as Nohebi tries to keep the ball from touching the floor. Their captain, sending it flying up towards the net, before Lev jumps again, immediately smashing the ball back down to their side of the court.

The gym cheers as Lev turns to Yaku in excitement. Your eyes follow his, only to see Yamamoto assisting Yaku. “He fell-” Yamaguchi says. “He landed on someone’s foot as he was trying to get the ball.” You look at Yamaguchi before back down at Yaku limping. Yaku turns to apologize to the guest before facing the court. “I’m fine!” He yells, taking a step and immediately feeling a shock of pain course through him.

Just as he falls, Yamamoto catches him as their coach makes their way to them. “Shibayama!”

“I hope Yaku-san’s going to be okay” Yachi adds as the match continues. You watch as the coach tends to Yaku’s wound, before going back to the game.

Nekoma struggles, getting used to Shibayama now on court. Nohebi is still in the lead and the gym watches in anticipation.

Shibayama visibly looks calmer, adjusting himself before Daisho spikes the ball towards him. You hold your breath until Shibayama is able to stop the ball, sending it up before Kuroo smashes it back down to Nohebi’s side of the court.

“All right!” Nekoma cheers as you give out a sigh of relief. “You seem really invested into the game” You turn and notice Tsukishima looking down towards you. “Well, it’s really interesting…” You blush, stabbing another ball and plopping it into your mouth.

Nekoma begins catching up, getting used to the new player on the court, very close to winning the set.

The whistle blows, a new player making his way onto the court.

“A pinch server” You overhear behind you. “Didn’t that guy dislocate his thumb in the last match?” Turning your attention back to the court, you watch just as the ball barely hits the net. Kuroo and Nobuyaki catch it, before Fukunaga sends it to the other side. You watch the ball, thinking it would make it in before the whistle blows once again. “Out!” The pinch server yells.

“Out? No way!” Hinata cries. Bringing your hand up to your chin, “He blocked it”. Your friends turn to you, as you continue. “I saw the ball, it was in the court, but the pinch server guy, he extended his fists to block the referee from seeing it.” “Whoa…” “Talk about conniving” Tsukishima adds, before taking the stick in your hand, stabbing a ball and bringing it up into his mouth.

You turn to look up at him, watching as he puts the same stick you had placed on your lips to his. ‘Indirect kiss’ You think, bringing your palms up to cover your face, letting out an internal scream.

“Y/n-chan!” Yachi faces you. Kageyama and Hinata turn to look at you, then to Tsukishima, before Tsukishima looks back to them shrugging his shoulders as he focuses back on the game.

“Shibayama!” You watch the captain make his way off the court. “Wait- What happened to Kuroo-san?” “I think he busted his fingernail” “Ouch....” Turning your attention to the scoreboard, Nekoma is a point away from winning the game, to have their captain subbed out at a time like this is a big risk.

Daisho jumps, aiming for Lev before switching to Shibayama. Fortunately, the boy is able to receive it, sending it to Yamamoto before he aims to smash it. The ball then touching the Nohebi’s middle blocker’s hands before flying up, and far from the court. You watch as Daisho attempts to chase after it, only for it to fall, finally touching the floor. The match has ended.

“Thanks for the game!” The teams exchange before Yaku meets with his team, eyes filled with tears as he hugs them.

You watch as Kenma looks up to the stands, finding Hinata and giving him a nod. You turn to your friend, watching the smile spread throughout his face. He can’t wait to play against them at Nationals.

-

Walking out of the venue, you look up to notice as it’s night time already.

“I didn’t even think it was so dark outside already” You comment, Kageyama turning his head to you, watching the moon shine in your eyes. “We better get going before” Yamaguchi states, leading the way back to the cozy inn.

-

“Ah!” You let out, dipping into the onsen besides Yachi. “This feels so good!” Your cheeks redden from the temperature in the room. “This is so relaxing, I’m so happy we were all able to come together, traveling is so much fun, especially with your friends” Yachi replies before you give her a smirk. “And especially without your parents!”

The two of you share a laugh as the boys prepare the futons.

“One, two, three, four...” Yamaguchi counts. “I think we’re missing two more futons.” “Really?” Hinata recounts the futons. “Oh, I’ll go ask for more!” “I’ll come with you Hinata!” Yamaguchi exits the room with Hinata, unintentionally leaving Kageyama and Tsukishima together.

The two not even realizing they were the only ones left in the room, turn to face each other, then turning around to scan the room, only to notice Yamaguchi and Hinata are no longer with them. The tension is intense and super awkward.

They separate, going to opposite sides of the room.

As Tsukishima is about to place his headphones on, he feels a stare from behind him. Turning to see Kageyama staring at him. “What?”

Kageyama turns away immediately. “N-n… Kni.. Knife… N...” “Huh?” “Nothing!” “You should have said it clearly the first time.” Tsukishima glares back before you walk in with Yachi.

“Oh? Where are Yamaguchi and Hinata?” You ask. “Right behind ya! Excuse us” Yamaguchi replies, as Hinata runs in, dropping the futons down. “I told you I could have helped carry one.” Yamaguchi sighs before helping spread the last two futons out.

You turn your attention back to Kageyama, who is in the corner of the room. Making your way over, you squat to him. “Why are you so far away from us Tobio?” Kageyama snaps his head, coming face to face with you. He immediately stands, flustered from the close contact, before you rise up with him, giggling. All while Tsukishima hears your giggles through his headphones.

-

As night falls, you lay on your futon, your eyes shut as the sound of rustling keeps you awake.

“Hinata?” You whisper. The rustling stops, as he turns around facing you. “Yeah?” “You okay?” You ask in concern. “I can’t really sleep, did you bring your stationery pouch?” He replies quietly. “Ah” As you reach over to your bag to grab the pouch for him, the lights turn on, waking everyone up.

“Ugh-” “What happened?” “Hinata, what the hell” Tsukishima puts his glasses on, looking up slowly to the boy standing in the middle of the room, facing the five of you.

“Lets play a game!”

“A game?” The three question as Kageyama is still asleep in his futon.

-

And this is where you found yourselves, gathered in a circle around the kotatsu.

Hinata makes his way around, handing each person a slip of paper as your pens are spread across the middle of the kotatsu.

“Okay, now everyone grab a pen!” You all grab a pen, waiting for the boy’s instructions.

“In this game, we are going to write down a confession. Then, we are going to fold it, place it in the center of the table, mix it around, and we are all going to take one script!” He says as he plops back down to his seat in excitement. “What are we, 8? This is so stupid” Tsukishima comments before removing the cap of the pen, wanting to get this over with.

Intrigued, you take your pen, resting it above the slip of paper thinking of what to say. You try your best to sneak a peek from your friends’ slips, but you are all spread out a little too far. You put the pen to your chin before your eyes wander to Tsukishima, an idea finally popping to mind.

‘I really like someone in this group, but please keep it a secret.’ You write before folding your paper, being the first to drop it in the center of the table. Tsukishima glances up, giving a low smile seeing you excited, even for such a silly game.

Just as everyone drops their slip on the center of the table, Hinata jumps, swooping the papers up into his hand, and shaking them around if he were rolling dice, before bringing his cupped hands around, asking for everyone to grab a script.

You take one from his palm, waiting for the next instruction. Once Hinata makes his way to everyone, a single slip in his hands he begins. “Ready? Okay, let’s open them!”

You all begin to slowly open your scripts, reading what is written. You freeze as you read yours.

‘I’m in love with Y/n.’

You feel your soul leave your body, immediately looking around between the group of your friends, then to Tsukishima as he keeps his eyes on his.

“Yay! We’re done, okay goodnight” Hinata says before jumping back into the covers of his futon, immediately turning and falling asleep.

The five of you look at the boy in disbelief, before heading to bed.

-

You toss and turn in your futon, unable to fall asleep. Slowly getting up, you make your way out to the balcony, shutting the sliding door quietly as you lean on the railing.

Letting out a huff, you gaze up into the sky, resting your head against your arm, not noticing the door sliding open and close.

“What are you going?” You jump, turning around to see Tsukishima standing with his hands in the pockets of his team jacket. Letting out a sigh, you pout as he makes his way over besides you, leaning his back against the railing.

“Don’t scare me like that!” You quietly scold him before turning yourself to the night sky, missing the small smile he gave.

“I couldn’t sleep” You admit, as you rest your chin on your arm again. “That makes two of us” He replies, turning to lean on the railing with you, facing the night sky. “What happened?” You look at him before answering. “Nothing much really, I’m just overthinking.”

Tsukishima stays silent, the guilt still eating him up from the time he had brought you to tears during the Spring Interhigh Finals. Were you just as bothered by this as he was? Has it been keeping you awake restless at night? Did he really do this to you? He wishes, if he could promise to never hurt you again, he wouldn’t waste a second to commit.

But really, you were thinking of the confession you received on the script. You don’t realize how quiet Tsukishima’s been before you ask him. “Why are you still awake?” He looks to you immediately, staring into your eyes before shrugging. “I just felt off” “Off? What’s wrong Tsukki?” You ask concerned. He lets out a sigh, before standing up completely, facing you.

You watch as he gazes down at your features, confused as he takes his hands out from his pockets.

“I’m sorry y/n” He begins, looking straight into your eyes. The look he gives you, is a look of absolute sincerity. You tilt your head, still confused, as you were about to respond he continues. “I’m really sorry about what happened during the Spring Interhigh Finals, in the infirmary.” Your eyes widening, remembering that day.

“I…” He continues, and you listen. “I didn’t mean anything I said. I was very frustrated with the game, and how useless I felt when I had to leave because I let myself get hurt during the match… It’s still honestly, not an excuse to take everything out on you. But after seeing-” He stops himself, his eyes turning away as he was just about to admit his final outburst was due to seeing you in Kageyama’s jersey.

“After seeing?” You question still looking up to him. “After seeing… you… in Kageyama’s jersey…” He mumbles the end as he takes a deep breath looking back to you, completely flustered. You blink, looking down, registering what he just said. ‘After seeing me copy a jerky?’

He takes a step closer to you, “It was the last straw, and I allowed my harsh emotions to drown you.” You turn your attention back to him. “You didn’t deserve that. Especially when you were there for me. When you came to support me, and the team. And, I know it doesn’t look like it at most times, maybe all the time, but, I appreciate you so much. I’m very fortunate to have you in my life, even after so long.” You look up to him. “I’m really sorry y/n.” He finishes, his gaze stuck to you as he awaits your response.

You blink once more, eyes tearing as you give a warm smile. These are one of those very rare moments with Tsukishima you have come to treasure deeply. “I forgive you Tsukishima Kei.”

His eyes widen as his body comes closer, his arms wrapping around you unconsciously. You still, surprised by his action. Before exhaling calmly as you feel the warmth from him around you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you cling to him. Your face pressed into his jacket, mumbling something.

“Huh?” Tsukishima pulls away, his arms still wrapped around you as he looks at you in confusion. “What did you say?” “Can you make me a promise, Tsukki?” He stares, waiting for your request. “Can you promise to never hurt me again?” Not even taking a second to think. “I promise, pipsqueak.”

“You get three strikes, this is your first one” You give a final cheeky smile before muffling your face back into his sweater as he lets out a sigh of relief, placing a hand to the back of your head, bringing his chin to rest above it.

He promises to himself as he holds you close, a smile warming his face.

‘And it will be the last.’

A/N #2: WAAAA!!! thank you so much again for reading💞 im sorry if tsukki seems a little off, i wanna think tsukki is actually v soft when it comes to emotional and sentimental situations.. at least w the ppl he doesnt mind showing that side to, u kno what i mean?

-

ohh!!! i also have one more or 2 exciting news!!!

i have another series wip on the way! once im able to get the prologue and at least plan the next 5 chapters, it’ll be posted!! im so excited bc i love osamu sm pls.. oops i said his name 😳

i also plan for another series but, im still debating whether or not to write it bc, as u can see, i cant write angst for shit let alone write in general how r u guys still here ASDFGHJKL😭

-

anyways, i hope to see you in the next chapter!! thank you so much for putting up with my bad grammar and english, i love uuu guys 💖

i will now go back to my excessive amount of homework and studying to do, let us pray for my dumbass, amen.😔🙏🏼

TAGLIST: @cvlliesstuff , @strawberries-en-cream , @beanst0ck , @kimiiiiiiiiii, @lucyheartfilias-wife , @lanatheawesome , @owlnymph​ . 

PLEASE LEMME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS (OR IN ASKS) IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST!!!

“A LOVE SO BEAUTIFUL” Masterlist 🌸

[papermoonloveslucy]

MODELING INTO THE MOVIES

August 8, 1936

By Jeannette Meehan, HOLLYWOOD 

From the women’s angle, there are simply too many gorgeous newcomers in Hollywood. That fact is plain. 

From the gentlemen’s angle, Hollywood is pleasantly crowded with the most alluring bits of femininity ever to delight the bald-headed row. This fact is even plainer. Oh, say it isn’t so, but there a new day dawning in the west for the Stage Door Johnnies. 

Whence comes this influx of Eves? Who are these girls of such attractive physical make-up? 

Well, sir, most of them are ex-models. 

The highway and by-ways to Moviedom are past counting. Those most traveled have been the extra route, the beauty contest route or the I-have-a-relative route. Yesterday our newcomers were night club crooners, radio personalities and million-dollar heiresses. Today the majority of candidates for stardom are no longer being recruited from these avenues. It now quite obvious that any girl who has been a model approaches the casting office with an asset that permits her to pass up the waiting list. 

Oh, phooey, what’s a model got that the others haven’t? 

Well, when Radio Picture wanted five beauties for the fashion show sequence in “Roberta” they tested 30 girls, and then sent out an S.O.S. to the ranks of professional models. That was a year ago. Those five models so delighted the camera that they’re still under contract. (1)

Just a few months ago, when M-G-M went scouting for 22 modern Venuses for “The Great Ziegfeld”, they discovered that the ex-models had a lot more poise and personality than the kids who were merely movie struck. Eighteen of those 22 “Ziegfeld Girls” were former models. Fourteen of the 18 were given contracts. You just can’t argue with “figures” like that, or should I say with “figures like theirs"? (2)

“Model your way to the movies” isn’t just a catchy phrase. Models come to Hollywood already equipped with the elementary essentials which studios spend a great deal of time and money trying to hammer into inexperienced youngsters. Models have already served their apprenticeship to the art of carriage, grace and charm. They’ve already passed a certain type of beauty contest. The girl whose picture helps to sell beauty preparations has to have a face that leads you to believe that the product is worth trying. A pair of silk stockings modeled on muscle-bound or "spindle” legs would scarcely lure you to the hosiery department. 

You never see a good model stumble over her train. She remains regal and sure-footed in the most confusing draperies. 

Figuratively speaking, these girls are above reproach. Most fashion houses require that their models be above medium height, broad through the shoulders, slim through the hips, and that their proportions be symmetrically arranged. Thus, they’ve long since graduated from the routine of diets, masseurs, and classes for corrective posture that faces tire average beginner. 

In other words, movie producers are finding out that modeling is a natural complement to screen work. Film executives are discovering that the girls who come to them from portrait and artists studios and from fashion salons are far ahead of those who approach Hollywood's pot of gold with no training. 

Not only that, but these ex-models seem to be well-mannered, well-educated girls whose off-screen poise and chic rivals that of their screen betters. 

Oh, dear are they gorgeous? They're enough to make us ordinary girls forget to look before we leap. Just for instance, take Pauline Craig [above] (3), an auburn-haired, statuesque beauty from Cleveland, O. She’s five feet six and one-half inches tall, weighs 118 pounds, and has a figure that only Jean Harlow (4) could be unconcerned about.  

Miss Craig was a “Ziegfeld” girl - now she’s under contract. She skipped the first grade in motion picture training, and I guess we all know why. She was a model. Her glorious smile has appeared in hundreds of advertisements. As a fashion model she worked for I. Magnins. (5)

Are you wondering if these girls observe any general rules for the maintenance of health and beauty? Miss Craig will tell you that most of them prefer fresh air to smoky drawing rooms, and that they substitute milk for alcoholic beverages.

Incidentally, her hobby is collecting pictures of the Dionne quintuplets. (6)

Another girl recruited from the model ranks for “The Great Ziegfeld" was Wanda Perry (7), a vivacious brunet from Brooklyn. She's five feet five and one-half inches tall, weighs 120 pounds, and has brown eyes. 

With her classic features and her superb figure, there was a great demand for her in New York’s portrait galleries and exclusive clothing establishments. She has posed and modeled for Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, McFadden Publications and for tooth paste ads. 

With an already perfect camera presence, she is not to be enrolled in the studio's kindergarten for beginners. 

Over at Paramount there’s a queenly blond named Elizabeth Russell (8), probably the best known of former New York models. A favorite of such distinguished illustrators as Russell Patterson, James Montgomery Flagg, McClelland Barclay, Dean Cornwell, Paul Hesse, and Steichen, the photographer. Miss Russell is now in possession of a flattering long-term contract.

Artists agree that her features are photographically perfect. Artist or no artist, they’ll look perfect to you! She has modeled hose, nightgowns, and coiffures. Her blonde beauty has helped to sell cigarettes, jewels, soap, sheets, automobiles and first-aid kits. Very soon she'll be helping Paramount sell “Girl of the Ozarks,” her first picture (9). Miss Russell is five feet eight inches tall, weighs 118 pounds, has blue eyes and naturally blond hair. 

Another beautiful blonde who modeled her way to the movies is Louise Stuart (10), a former Chicago debutante. After graduating from Miss Mason's Castle (11) she went to New York to visit former school chums. It was during one of these visits that she was persuaded to pose for cigarette ads. One good look at her flawless countenance, and modeling jobs were her for the asking. With plenty of time on her hands, and nothing to do with it, she went to work. 

Miss Stuart attributes most of her success with the test director to her experience as a model. Posing for artists and photographers, she says, gave her a self-assurance which she has never lost. You'll see her first in “Lady Be Careful." (12)

A third Paramount prize is Veda Ann Borg (13), a stunning, red headed girl from New York. Before the studio signed her to a long-term contract, her divine proportions and sparkling personality had created a sensation in the modeling field. 

One of the most exquisite of Hollywood's newcomers is brunette Anita Colby (14) who stands five feet seven inches tall without her high-heeled shoes. Her face has smiled at you from magazine covers, commercial advertisements and from the pages of the nation's smartest fashion periodicals. Her beauty is attractively framed in poise, wit and charm. She is conversant with world affairs, music, art and literature. Pictorially speaking, she’s a model of perfection. Radio proudly points to her name on its contract list. 

Radio has two other "model" charmers in the persons of Maxine Jennings (five feet eight inches tall), and Lucille Ball (five feet six and one-half inches tall). Miss Jennings (15), a former model for the famous couturier, Jean Patou, is a stately redhead as handsome a creature as you ever laid your eyes on. You'll soon be seeing her in featured leads. 

Miss Ball (above), a blue-eyed blonde from Montana (16) and former model for Hattie Carnegie, is considered an important trump in the studio's hand. Her bosses have thus far cast her in wise-cracking roles, hoping to develop her into a counterpart of the late Lilyan Tashman (17) - but Lucille doesn't seem to need much help along those lines. Her poise, her suave delivery and her flair for clothes have already added to the gaiety of nations and have cannoned her well along the road to stardom. 

One of the most beautiful of the "model" brunettes is Hester Deane (18) who is doing much to enhance M-G-M productions. Her likeness on the backs of magazines has caused many a gentleman to change his brand of cigarettes, and she posed for automobile body advertisements long before the studio discovered that her presence on screen would “up” the grosses. 

She was born in Oklahoma City. Her education included art and music. Now, when she isn’t modeling or working in pictures, she designs clothes, takes piano lessons, and studies philosophy. 

A good look at Mary Jane Halsey (19) will have different reactions on you, depending on your sex. If you’re a woman, you’d just as soon she broke her neck.

Miss Halsey was born in Milwaukee. After her family moved to Los Angeles she became a model for a famous cosmetician. She is five feet six inches tall and weighs 120 pounds. She has blue eyes, and ‘shhhhhh’, she writes poetry. 

If these "model" newcomers get any taller, a few of our leading men will have to wear stilts. Extreme height, which has sounded the gong for many a beginners’ career, doesn't seem to be a handicap for the ex-models. When these lovely girls began to invade Hollywood, apparently the enthusiastic producers forgot all about the traditional physical specifications for screen heroines. There was a time when all actresses had to be extremely petite and slim, like Gloria Swanson and Colleen Moore, and, more recently, like Claudette Colbert and Margaret Sullavan (20). Unless you were a diminutive little trick about five feet two inches tall, and weighed less than 100 pounds, you might just as well have stayed on the farm. Greta Garbo and Kay Francis (21) were overlooked for a long time because of their height. 

But the restrictions seem to have been called off. It appears that models can grow as tall as they like without the danger of facing dismissal from the casting office. Margaret Lyman (22), one of the prettiest of the model group to win a picture contract, stands five feet nine inches in her stocking feet, and weighs 129 pounds. 

One of the most photographed models of the country, Miss Lyman has posed for Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, The New Yorker and for cigarette and soft drink ads. She has brown hair and brown eyes. She wears a larger shoe than Garbo. 

And no less charming is pretty Jane Hamilton [below] (23), another popular girl who found her way into pictures through the route of her professional success as a model.

#   #   # FOOTNOTES FROM THE FUTURE

(1) “Roberta” was released by RKO on March 8, 1935. It was Lucille Ball’s 21st film.  Models were needed for the fashion sequences. The film also employed models Virginia Carroll, Diane Cook, Lynne Carver, Lorraine DeSart, Betty Dumbries, Myrna Low, Margaret McChrystal, Marie Osborne, Wanda Perry, Donna Mae Roberts, and Kay Sutton.  In addition to Lucille Ball, Wanda Perry, Maxine Jennings, and Jane Hamilton were in the film and profiled in this article.

(2) “The Great Ziegfeld” was MGM’s 1936 biopic of Florenz Ziegfeld, the showman who glorified female beauty on stage. Lucille Ball was not in this film, but was later part of the cast of “Ziegfeld Follies” (1951). This film employed dozens of showgirls and models to play the Ziegfeld Girls. Those profiled in this article include Pauline Craig, Wanda Perry, Hester Dean, Mary Halsey, and Margaret Lyman. 

(3) Pauline Craig (1914-97) made her screen debut in “The Great Ziegfeld” but only did five more films, leaving the business in 1939. 

(4) Jean Harlow (1911-37) likely did not know or care about Pauline Craig, even if Craig’s figure did give Harlow a run for her money. She was known as the original platinum blonde sex symbol. She died at age 26, at the peak of her popularity. MGM closed for her funeral. 

(5) I. Magnin & Company was a San Francisco, California-based high fashion and specialty goods luxury department store. It expanded across the West into Southern California and the adjoining states of Arizona, Oregon, and later to Chicago, Illinois, and Washington, DC, metropolitan areas. Mary Ann Magnin founded the company in 1876 and named the chain after her husband, Isaac. The chain was bought out by Macy’s in 1994. 

(6) The Dionne quintuplets (born May 28, 1934) are the first quintuplets known to have survived their infancy. The identical girls were born just in Ontario. All five survived to adulthood. The Dionne girls were born two months premature. The Ontario government and those around them began to profit by making them a significant tourist attraction. As of this writing, two of the girls are still living. 

(7) Wanda Perry was born Helen Beuscher in Brooklyn, New York, on July 24, 1917. When she was sixteen, she was named Miss New York City, and was offered a movie contract by Earl Carroll. Helen moved to Hollywood and took her mother's maiden name, Wanda Perry, appearing in films as a showgirl, an Earl Carroll Girl, a Goldwyn Girl, a dancer in "George White's 1935 Scandals," a fashion model, an extra, a bit player and a stand-in for Lucille Ball! Her final film was as an extra in Lucy’s Mame (1974). 

(8) Elizabeth Russell (1916-2002) was the sister-in-law of Rosalind Russell. She started doing films in 1936 and finished her career in 1960. (9) “Girl of the Ozarks�� (1936) was a Paramount film also starring Virginia Weidler, Henrietta Crossman, and Leif Erickson. 

(10) Louise Stuart did two pictures for Paramount back-to-back in 1936. That was the extent of her film career.

(11) Miss Mason’s Castle is a reference to Miss C.E. Mason’s Suburban School for Girls in Tarrytown-on-Hudson, New York. It was open from the late 1880s to 1934. The castle was razed in 1944. 

(12) “Lady Be Careful” (1936) did not feature Louise Stuart as is said here, although records could be incorrect. The film did feature Elizabeth Russell, however. 

(13) Veda Ann Borg (1915-73) did her first film for Paramount in 1936, and was continually employed in Hollywood until 1963. She was the first actress cast as Honeybee Gillis in “The Life of Riley” TV series, replaced a short time later by Marie Brown, then Gloria Blondell. 

(14) Anita Colby (1914-92) was born Anita Counihan. Early in her career, at $50 an hour, she was the highest paid model at the time. She was nicknamed "The Face" and appeared on numerous billboards and ads, many of them for cigarette advertisers. She did three films in 1936 alone, the same year she appeared on 15 magazine covers in a single month. In subsequent years she only acted in three more films, returning to modeling. 

(15) Maxine Jennings (1909-91) did 10 films with Lucille Ball between 1935 and 1937.  After 1938, her film appearances were sporadic.  She made her final screen appearance on a 1968 episode of “Hawaii 5-O”. 

(16) Lucille Ball (1911-89) is stated as being a blonde from Montana. She was actually a brunette from Upstate New York.  

(17) Lucille is once again compared with Lilyan Tashman (1896-1934) a stage and screen actress known for her skill at verbal wit as well as her throaty delivery. She died at age 37, just one year after Lucille Ball arrived in Hollywood. 

(18) Hester Dean became known as 'The Girl with the Fisher Body' after modeling for the Fisher Automobile Company. Her only film was “The Great Ziegfeld” (1936). 

(19) Mary Jane Halsey (1913-89) was also in “The Great Ziegfeld” (1936) but by that time had done nearly a dozen films. She continued to act on screen until 1945. 

(20) Gloria Swanson was 4′11″, Colleen Moore was 5′3″, Claudette Colbert was 5′5″, and Margaret Sullavan was 5′3″. 

(21) Greta Garbo was 5′7��� (same as Lucille Ball), and Kay Francis was 5′9″. 

(22) Margaret Lyman (1915-2002) was one of the models hired for “The Great Ziegfeld” in 1936. She did two more pictures before leaving screen acting behind. 

(23) Jane Hamilton (1915-2004) was a Goldwyn Girl in “Roman Scandals” (1933) just like Lucille Ball. Hamilton, however, had done one previous film as a Goldwyn Girl, “Gold Diggers of 1933″.  She did seven other films with Lucille Ball. Her final screen role was in 1949. 

[yuncheoligans]

~Beautiful Stranger~ TEASER

Hi Guys! This is just a teaser for something I'm working on! I'm really excited about this one but I don't know if I want to make it a series or not, either way, I'm nowhere near done writing it but feedback is always appreciated and needed I promise haha. This is thanks to my ramblings to my friends late at night while being distracted from the terrible weekend I had.

tags: @hwaightme @layzfeelit

Enjoy!!

Pairing: Yunho x Reader. (The guys are involved at some point too but not romantically.) NonIdol! AU

Description: A lonely perpetually single grad student working at a museum is approached by a handsome man, he looks expensive. Maybe this is your chance to get swept off your feet. Maybe he wants something else.

I’m not originally from the UK but my parents moved back and forth for a variety of things while I was growing up so it’s like a second home. I came here for my graduate program in Art History and made a few friends…moved in with them and now there’s 5 people in an apartment made for 3. We all go to University College London and live off campus in the cheapest place we could find, I was fortunate enough to get a job and internship at The National Gallery here. I’m lucky and I can pay rent but that’s about it, I’m by no means well off and trust me I could use a few extra any sort of money. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The blaring sound of my morning alarm disturbs the dreams of a man sweeping me off my feet, his voice no longer sweet as honey but now Kick It by NCT 127. I guess I’m getting introduced to some New Thangs today  So it was going to be that kind of day, no school but long hours at work as a gallery attendant but also archivist in training, the latter being an unpaid internship…of course. Yeah, long day. I got up, finally silencing my alarm and pulling myself out of my full sized bed, the only luxury I could afford on my own, to drag myself down the hallway to our shared bathroom and brush my teeth. Let’s hope I’m awake enough to remember not to drink Orange Juice again as I look for breakfast. Now how long until I have to catch my train? And if I miss it how long until the bus? It’s not a terrible walk but I need to eat. Maybe I can get to Uni from here. Why does London have to be so confusing!

“You’re up early y/n” William, my flatmate’s boyfriend said passing by the open door.

“Work.” was all I mumbled as I head back to my room to pick out my outfit for the day. I stayed up writing this stupid research paper all night and what do I have to show for it…the not so designer bags under my eyes. Most days are filled with a plethora of alarms going off around the same time, lucky for my flatmates, I’m the only one with work today I guess. Alright which combination of suit pants, blouse, and jacket am I going to wear today…All Black? All Black. I finished setting everything out before heading downstairs to eat just in case I got something on my shirt again. Last time I decided to make this beautiful breakfast sandwich with a runny egg and it broke onto the bright pink blouse I had picked for the day on the tube going to work, my boss was not happy about the spill. Did I cry, yeah…hey the saying is crying over spilt milk not spilt eggs.

“Oh hi y/n!” my other flatmates girlfriend Emma cheerily said. “I’m just making Becks some breakfast do you want any?”

“Sure Ems…thanks.” I nodded. If I didn’t have to cook I wasn’t going to complain. Oh that’s the other thing you should know, I’m the only one single in this apartment anymore…or flat. Whatever you want to call it. 

The two sleeping while their partners roam around are my best friends for 2 years, Becka (Rebecca) and Liz (Elizabeth), I only use their full names when I’m angry at them, there have been plenty an argument in the small confinement of our apartment. There’s 2 bedrooms upstairs, one above the living room, one above the downstairs bedroom, the bathroom is in between the two and just up the set of stairs. Downstairs is the living room, and subsequent dining area. Kitchen is just through to the back and off to the right is bedroom number 3. Yes we all share one bathroom, no it’s not as fun as it sounds. I live in the room at the front of the place above the living room, I was going to take the downstairs room because I came home late and didn’t want to wake anyone until Liz and Will got together, when they started dating they went at it like rabbits. Becka offered to switch with me since she was barely home to begin with, she and Emma had just started dating so she was with her a lot, at school doing lengthy research papers, or at her internship at the hospital. Her internship slowed down so she had a lot of time to be home and spend time with the love of her life. They’re cute don’t get me wrong…just unfortunate to be the only one single here. 

“Thanks again Ems.” I said cleaning the plate I used as I got up to finally get dressed. “It was really good, Becka is lucky to have you.”

“I certainly am.” said woman came into the room perking up at her partner. “Thank you again love.”

“I’ll be going before that breakfast makes a fast journey back up.” I laughed receiving a towel to the face. I put on the outfit I had picked out, touched up my hair so I didn’t look like I was coming in out of bed, and set off for the day. Thankfully I didn’t miss my train so it was only 45 minutes to get to work. I know that sounds like a lot but it’s not so bad when you’re used to it. I get to listen to music and relax a little more before starting a long long day.

The opening of a museum is never exciting, there’s probably 10 maybe 15 guests in the first 3 hours of open, not much to do, luckily the museum lets me work on my internship first on these long days so I’m not bored out of my mind by the time I’m done. I usually clock in around lunch time finally and sit or stand around for the rest of the day depending on what they want me to do that day. 

“Y/n” you’re going to be in Room 43 today.” my boss Henry looked at me.

“Well at least I get to look at some of my favorites today.” I sighed, knowing I was going to be on my feet for the rest of the day was not something to invoke joy. Room 43 on Level 2 had our Van Gogh, Gauguin, and Seurat paintings, most notably Sunflowers by Van Gogh, Van Gogh’s Chair, and Motherhood by Picasso. One of my favorites was-

“A Vase of Flowers, Paul Gauguin,” said the smoothest voice I’ve ever heard. Like butter melting on bread.

“Yes, one of my favorites in the room.” I smiled before turning towards the man. My breath hitched, there before me stood a man about 6 foot 1, dressed in a suit that looks like I don’t know how to pronounce the designers name, oxford shoes, no tie,his nose had a slight point to it, a jawline that looked like it was sculpted by Michelangelo, full eyebrows, his eyes soft and warm, finally his black hair. He was perfect, absolutely stunning, I wanted to look at him more than the art around me.

“Can you tell me about it?” he smiled.

“Oh, yes absolutely.” Anything to talk to him. “Painted by Gauguin in 1896, painted with Oil Paints-”

“Ah so it needs something breathable to not ruin the paints?” he smiled. “When transported for cleaning?”

“Yes, since oils are very hard to fix if damaged. So um anyways, Paul Gauguin painted 'A Vase of Flowers' when he arrived in Tahiti for his second stay in 1895. The vase is bursting with exotic flowers including hibiscus, white and yellow frangipani and white tiare. The flowers look as though they are past their best as some blossoms have fallen onto the table. This suggests that Gauguin was not interested in the horticultural detail but instead the decorative shapes and interweaving of colours of the display.”

“Very interesting.” his smile grew.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

mistletoe & california snow - t. meier

Here’s the first of the things I’ll be putting out for the Christmas and holiday season! I’ve been working on this for the past few weeks, it’s pretty long - bear with me - but I am proud of it and how it’s turned out. As always, I read all the tags and love seeing and hearing people’s thoughts, so please let me know what you think!

word count: 7.6k+

warning: sexual content (light & brief, but no one under 18 please!)

Timo came into Noemi Silva’s life when she least expected it. It’s a cliché saying, one that had been around since time immemorial, but it was true. He wasn’t looking for anything serious, and she had just gotten out of a relationship a few months prior. But then she had gotten an internship with the Sharks social media team in winter of her senior year of college, and the more time she started spending around the players, the more he realized he wasn’t able to stay away from her. Not in a bad way, but in the kind of way where he simply noticed how radiant she was and wanted to do whatever he could to get to know her, to be around her, in whatever way she’d let him. So colleagues turned into friends, turned into him asking her out two weeks before playoffs started. She didn’t say yes right away, but it wasn’t because she didn’t know, and it wasn’t because she wanted to make him sweat it. She was worried about what people would think; an intern dating one of the team’s star forwards, worried that the office gossip would turn into arguments that she didn’t earn her job, or that she was trying to get people to go easier on her. After a long conversation with Alise, one of her best friends, then her older sister, then Timo, she finally agreed. Them being together wasn’t as big of an issue as she had thought, a few meetings with HR and some paperwork and they had the green light, as long as they kept things professional at work. And then she was offered a full-time job after her graduation, and now, almost three years after they had first met, she was days away from marrying the love of her life. 

He had proposed at the very beginning of the year, on a weeklong trip to Switzerland courtesy of the Sharks’ bye week and a very well-timed nonstop flight to Zürich. Noemi wasn’t an overly sentimental person, she thought as she curled next to her fiancé on their living room couch, watching an episode of Gossip Girl. She never had been, but even she would admit without hesitation that there wasn’t a single thing she would have changed about their engagement. 

---

Noemi’s parents were out of town on a weekend getaway to wine country, so they weren’t able to drive her and Timo to the airport for their bye week vacation to Switzerland. Everything had lined up perfectly that year, and Noemi almost couldn’t believe their luck. She had accompanied the Sharks’ delegation to the past two All-Star Weekends, one the year prior and the other only the weekend before. So they both had a full week off for the first time since the offseason. The Christmas break was great, but it wasn’t nearly enough time to travel anywhere, let alone somewhere outside of the country. They had both been worried about the flight time — for a while, the only option was nearly twenty hours with a seven-hour layover in London — but thankfully, a nonstop flight from San Francisco to Zürich had opened up that they had booked just before the holidays. 

All leading to the current moment, with Noemi, Timo, and their bags in the backseat of Kevin Labanc’s SUV as he pulled up to the curb of Terminal G. “Hope you guys have fun in the Alps, getting snowed on and freezing your asses off while I relax on the beach, getting—”

Noemi cut him off, arching an eyebrow. “Freezing your ass off, Kevin. It may be California, but I think you’re vastly overestimating how warm Santa Cruz beaches get. Have fun, though,” she quipped. 

The corner of his eyes crinkled as he laughed. “Meier, did you know that your girl can chirp better than half the team?” 

“One of her many talents,” Timo said, shrugging as he hefted their bags out of the trunk. Noemi was the first one to hug his teammate goodbye, and then Kevin pulled Timo into an embrace. 

“But seriously, guys. Have fun. Good luck,” he said, looking back at Timo. 

“What did he say good luck for?” Noemi asked, her brows furrowed as they walked through the sliding doors to the check-in counter. 

Timo made a noncommittal noise. “Not sure. Maybe he meant to say good flight?” And it was a good flight, they were both able to get a few hours of sleep in before breakfast was served just as they were flying over Scotland. 

Noemi wrested her back from under the seat before slinging it onto her shoulder and flashing a grateful smile at the flight attendants as they disembarked. She shivered as the cold air hit her on the jet bridge — as soon as they made it out to the gate, she made Timo stop so she could grab a jacket out of her bag, zipping it up all the way to under her chin. Timo snorted; she glared at him. “We weren’t all born with snow in our veins, Timo.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.” 

She had been through the airport once before, but once was nothing compared to the she-didn’t-even-know-how-many flights Timo had taken. He gave her a kiss on the cheek as they reached passport control, moving towards the automated gates as Noemi stood in the line for non-Schengen nationals. “See you on the other side.” 

Timo had already been waiting for ten minutes by the time Noemi got through. Though, all things considered — especially when compared to the hour-plus lines they were both used to trying to get back into the United States — it wasn’t bad at all. “You get through okay?” he asked, kissing Noemi as she came up to where he had settled by a coffee shop. 

She nodded. “Yep, no issues. Asked me why I was here, I said I was visiting family with my Swiss citizen boyfriend, asked how long I’d be here for, I said a week. She told me welcome to Switzerland, stamped my passport, and said to have a good trip.” She tucked her passport into her purse, zipping it closed. 

Timo bent down to kiss the top of her head as she leaned into him, her hands wrapping around his waist. “Let’s get going, then.”

---

The day before they were due to fly out of Zürich, they decided to go into the city. By they, it was really Timo’s decision; before they left San Jose, he had shown her pictures of Zürich in the winter and mentioned the zoo. It was an easy sell, she loved getting to see the lemurs. They had done the zoo in the morning and the national museum in the afternoon, before the sun set just after 5 PM. 

The beer garden he took her to for dinner didn’t have any more indoor seating — something Noemi didn’t have a preference on, but Timo seemed concerned about — so the couple settled outside, warmed by a heating lamp and a well-placed fire pit off to the side of their table. “I feel like a lizard,” Noemi remarked, glancing up at the lamp. Timo laughed, holding her hand and absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over the top as he scanned the menu. “Now, it may come as a shock to you, but I happen to be less-than-fluent in Swiss German, so you’re going to have to help me out here,” she said as she read the menu. “Pictures are only getting me so far.”

He chuckled, leaning over the table “Do you want the raclette or the fondue?” 

Noemi’s brow furrowed. “Raclette?” 

Timo pulled out his phone, quickly navigating to Google. “The best way to describe it is like warmed, bubbly cheese that’s like scraped onto the food. Potatoes, meat, that kind of stuff. As opposed to fondue, which is obviously just fondue.” 

She looked at him, bewildered. “How many ways do the Swiss have to eat cheese?” 

“We’ve been perfecting it for 700 years, No.” 

The raclette was incredible, as expected, and the saison their waitress had suggested paired perfectly. It was nearing eight by the time they had paid the check, and they had an hour long drive back to his hometown, but the night wasn’t over yet. Some of the Christmas lights were still up, and a short walk around downtown led them to a little art gallery that was still open, Timo purchasing a gorgeous oil painting of the city, the clock tower of St. Peter in the background. 

“Belated Christmas present?” he asked, grinning at Noemi, as he arranged for it to be shipped back to California. 

She rolled her eyes. “If you say so.” 

“Merci vielmal,” Timo said to the curator. “Come on, there’s one more thing I want to show you before we leave.” 

Noemi blew on her hands before she stuffed them back in the pockets of her down jacket, following him out the door. She had gotten it a few months after she had been hired by the team full-time; there were a few different people on the social media team, so she didn’t go on every road trip, but it had become an invaluable addition to her wardrobe. She had made the foolish assumption that a November in Calgary couldn’t be too cold, and had only brought a fleece and a raincoat on one of her first trips with the team. It had been one of the worst mistakes of her life, and she had ended up having to run out to a Canada Goose outlet during her lunch break just so she wouldn’t freeze to death. 

Noemi wasn’t sure where they were going, but supposed that she wasn’t in a place to be very skeptical. It was only her second time in Switzerland — she had flown out the summer prior to visit with him and his family — and she certainly wasn’t an expert, so she followed her boyfriend down the street and around the corners of tiny stone-faced apartments and old churches, a light sprinkling of snow dusting itself on her beanie. They walked for a few minutes before coming to the banks of Lake Zürich, where icy water would normally be lapping at their toes, even in January. Noemi hadn’t taken much of a look at the lake on the drive in; if she had, she would have noticed that it was completely frozen over, with couples walking and children playing tag even at the comparatively late hour. 

He squeezed her hand as he stepped onto the ice. “Come on, babe.” 

Noemi bit her lip. “Are you sure it’s safe?” 

Timo nodded. “I called and asked a friend of mine the day before we left, it’s been frozen for almost a week and the weather hasn’t gotten any warmer. It should be at least nine, ten inches thick. Plenty safe.” So she let him take her hand, pulling her out to step gingerly on the ice, one foot in front of the other. 

“Does it freeze often?”

Timo shook his head. “First time since ‘65. You’re getting something special here, No.” The snow gave their feet some purchase on the ice, and it was only a few minutes before they were standing where the middle of the lake should be, looking up at the jet-black night sky. “Can you see Cassiopeia?” Timo asked, looking up to the sky, his hands jamming in his jacket pocket, playing with what Noemi could only assume were his keys. 

After their first date, dinner and a comedy show, they had driven to a stunning viewpoint on the outskirts of the city, bringing a blanket and laying outside stargazing and lazily kissing until they had to go to sleep sometime after midnight. “I could stay here for hours,” he had murmured as she lay against his chest. “Don’t think Boughner would take too kindly to you being late for morning skate,” Noemi had said. But she wasn’t arguing; she would have stayed there the rest of the night if they could. And Cassiopeia had always been her favorite constellation, the first one she pointed out to Timo that night, and one she loved just as much almost two years later. 

It took her less than ten seconds to find it, the familiar “W” beckoning her just like it had a hundred times before. She looked back to where Timo had been just a moment before, mouth half-open, ready to show him the stars. 

But he wasn’t there. Well, not standing, at least. He was kneeling on the ice, a blue jewelry box with a ring inside it balanced in his hand as the other reached out gently for hers. She gave it to him, of course she did. “Noemi Francisca Silva, you came into my life when I least expected it. I didn’t think I wanted a relationship, you weren’t sure either, but somehow after a few months of trying to be ‘just friends,’ we realized that just friends wasn’t going to work. And God, am I glad we figured that out. You’ve somehow fit in my life so perfectly that I have no clue how it ever worked before you were there. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, but even more than that, you’re so full of joy, you’ve always got a kind word to say about anyone, and you’re the best person anyone could ever ask for to have in their corner. I’m so glad you’re in mine.” He paused for a moment, looking back up at her with a half-smile on his face. “You asked what Kevin wished us good luck for back at the airport. Well,” he shrugged, “this is it. Noemi, it’s been the honor of my life to get to love you, and I can only hope you’ll let me do it for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?” 

For as worried as she had been about the ice not twenty minutes before, Noemi barely paid any mind as she crashed down next to him, their foreheads touching as his shaking hands slid the ring onto her wedding finger. It was the easiest answer she’d ever given in her life. “Yes.”

 --

As Noemi straddled Timo in the driver’s seat of his SUV two days before their wedding, the bags of falafel having long since been abandoned in the back seat, she thought that she had never been so grateful for tinted windows and early sunsets. “The milkshakes are going to melt,” she gasped out as his fingers started to trail up her shirt, playing with the line of her bra. 

“We’ll throw them in the freezer when we get home,” he said. Well, there’s not really any way I can argue against that, Noemi considered. So she let him pull her shirt off, undo the buttons on her shorts, and grab a condom from the center console — he had made damn sure to clean it out before filming a “what’s in my car” bit with the video team earlier that week — and slid into her as she tried desperately to keep her moans in check. “It’s okay, baby, let it out. I want to hear,” he said. 

And she was in no place to argue. So she gasped and whimpered while he moaned underneath her, the seat tilted back just enough for him to hit her just right. And Timo knew almost everything about Noemi. You don’t get to be together with someone for over two and a half years without learning about them. He knew she liked waffles over pancakes and hated having to get up early and how she almost cried the first time she got sent to the principal’s office in third grade. He knew her body better than she did, how to send her crashing into an orgasm that left them both breathless with tired, goofy grins on their faces after. 

But as Noemi steadied her breathing, looking out the window — the parking lot was still mercifully empty — she thought that maybe she’d leave out the fact that they had just fucked right across the street from her childhood church. At least we’re not trying to get married there, Noemi thought. I’d take up the whole damn time for Confession just for the past month. 

---

Noemi stuck her head out of the door of her seventh-floor hotel room. The coast was clear. It was the end of February, ten months after they had gotten together, and the team was in the middle of their last big Midwest sweep of the season. Going through the Central Division — plus a stop in Toronto — was incredible and Noemi was shaking herself awake every morning, realizing that this really was her job, but it was also exhausting, and as much as it may have seemed counterintuitive, lonely at times. Well, lonely in a particular way. She had the rest of the social media team, and she was friendly with most of the athletic training staff, and she saw the players pretty much every day, and she was friends with most of them. But the team was a little more than halfway through the trip, and she’d barely gotten to spend any time with Timo. Sure, there were meals, and the few off hours they got had been amazing — when they played the Preds, it was her first time in Nashville, and walking around Music Row had been the highlight of her weekend — but it wasn’t the same as if they were back in San Jose. 

Okay, if she was being totally honest, she missed the sex. It obviously wasn’t like she was finding it impossible to go without, she had dealt with it just fine when he was on a roadie and she was back home, but knowing that they were so close but couldn’t quite get there was a special kind of torture. Until now, when Timo had texted her just five minutes before. Kevin’s just gone out for a run, says he’s getting food after, some baked potato place or whatever. Idk. He’s weird. Anyways, coast should be clear for an hour or so 👀 

Noemi had initially rolled her eyes at the message, not even sure if she’d text him back, but the more she thought about it, the more she was tempted. Fuck it, she thought, texting him that she’d be right over. Which is how she found herself trying to sneak the 50 feet over to Timo’s room without being seen. Everyone knew they were together — they had for months — but the last thing she wanted was to have to explain to Erik Karlsson that the reason she was out pushing curfew was that she just really, really wanted dick. The poor man didn’t need to know. 

So she barely had to tap her fingers on Timo’s door before he swung it open, walking her back towards the bed while holding her around the waist. His knees hit the edge of the bed. Thank God there were two; she wanted him, sure, but even she wasn’t about to cross the line that was having sex in her friend’s bed an hour before he was set to sleep in it. She fell on top of him, sighing as his hands wandered under the hem of her oversized Santa Clara t-shirt, a mainstay from her college years. “Gotta get this off of you,” he mumbled. 

Noemi let out a breathy laugh. “Good things come to those who wait.” She barely had time to let out a gasp before he flipped her over. “It’s only been, what, a week?” Noemi asked, giggling. 

“Too long,” Timo replied, his lips trailing down the column of her neck. Her shirt was quickly forgotten on the floor, his following after a few minutes. She had gotten so worked up over the past week that he barely had to spend two minutes between her legs before she was pulling his mouth back up to hers, her hands fumbling with his belt buckle before finally getting it undone. “Fuck, one second,” he breathed, half-falling off the bed as he stumbled over towards his suitcase, zipping open the inner pocket before pulling out a condom. “You ready, babe?” he asked as he rolled it on. 

She nodded quickly. “Get over here.” He had just pressed into her when the door opened. 

“Brought back some fries to share, thought it would be nice since you didn’t get a chance to—” Kevin hollered as he walked into the room, while Noemi tried frantically to grab anything she could to cover herself. “Oh God. Jesus. Were you two just fucking?”

“In a manner of speaking?” Noemi said, pulling Timo’s dress shirt tightly around her. 

“God, why would you two? I’m not even going to ask. I don’t want to know. You two are gross,” he said, though he had the tiniest of smiles on his face when he finally brought his hand away from his eyes. “I’m going to, I don’t know. Go down to the lobby, and...Watch CNN or something. Be done when I get back.” 

He was gone just as quickly as he had walked in, and Noemi fell back on the bed, her face buried into the nearest pillow. “We’re never going to be able to live that one down, will we?” she asked hopelessly, already knowing the answer.

“Nope.”

---

 A month or so after he proposed, when the post-engagement glow had begun to fade and the equal parts excitement and apprehension about planning a wedding began to set in, they had to figure out how they actually wanted everything to work. Where and when and how and how many, things neither Timo nor Noemi had ever even considered went into planning a wedding. Things like figuring out if their vendor provided linens or if they had to rent their own, things like what to do with the flowers after the reception was over and how to reserve a block of hotel rooms. Enter Mohana. Noemi had been an art minor in college, focusing on watercolor  and digital design, so she sent over bits and pieces, links to Pinterest boards and concept art, and then handed off the responsibility. 

It was important to Timo that the wedding be during a time of year where the team would be able to make it; sure, summers were free, but everyone had vacations to go on and family to visit and he really didn’t want them to have to go to the expense of flying back to California just for a weekend. Even though he knew without a doubt that they would. And neither he nor Noemi thought it was a good idea to do it in spring — spring meant the playoff push and their schedules being filled even more than usual, and they didn’t want it to turn into just one more thing to worry about. Which meant fall or winter, but fall could be hectic with the season starting and most of the weekend dates for their venue had already been booked up. Which took them to December. Her own parents hadn’t really cared, but Noemi’s grandparents hadn’t been exactly thrilled when she told them she wasn’t having a church wedding. They got over it pretty quickly, though a lengthy call from her mom might have had something to do with that. 

Noemi wasn’t initially a huge fan of having a Christmas wedding. Though, really, it wasn’t even a Christmas wedding — it was on the 22nd — she was worried that people would have already settled in with their families, that she’d be disrupting plans and dynamics and traditions, that everyone’s toes would freeze off during the ceremony and suddenly their plans would be waylaid by having to take half the bridal party to the hospital to be treated for frostbite. She might have been exaggerating on the last one a little bit; even Bay Area Decembers rarely dipped much below 50º in the afternoon. But the winery they had chosen as their venue was available, and Mohana loved planning winter weddings, and Timo’s family had already been planning to fly over to spend the holidays with them. And red was her favorite color. So, all things considered, it was an easy sell. 

Planning the wedding itself turned out to me more difficult than either of them had anticipated. The Sharks’ season ended abruptly in the Cup finals that year, so they both got what planning they could out of the way before leaving for Switzerland. Cake tasting was done two days before leaving, and she had ordered her dress in March. Facetime meetings with Mohana were usually done in the California morning, which meant that more than once, she had been explaining vendor costs and asking if they preferred peonies or poppies as they were cooking dinner in his parents’ house. Noemi headed back to California in late August — she would have stayed longer, but was limited to a ninety day stay in a six month period without a visa and didn’t feel the need to go through the trouble when Timo was following a few weeks after. It wasn’t ideal, and she missed him more than she wanted to let on at times, but a month came and went and they were reunited. 

--- 

A soft knock came on the door of the bridal suite. “Everyone decent?” the voice asked.

“We’re good!” Emily called back. It was a no-brainer for Noemi to pick her sister as her maid of honor, who had nearly cried when she asked her early in the summer.

Patrick stepped into the room, closing the door gently behind him. “Can’t have him see you before,” he said jokingly. 

“Wouldn’t want that,” Noemi said, smiling softly. Patrick had stuck around after his retirement, working with the player development staff during the season. Everyone was the better for it, and they were all so grateful to have him still be a part of the family. Even apart from his consistency and dedication on the ice, he had always been a natural leader of any locker room he was in, mentoring younger players without being asked and always being there for anyone who needed him. “It’s what the team dad does,” he always said. 

So it was only natural that Timo and Noemi had wanted to find a place for him in their wedding. He had been all too happy to step up and help them with last-minute preparations the morning of, checking in with their wedding planner Mohana and helping to get all of the organizational details squared away — he had even driven back to the hotel the guests were staying at to pick up one of the groomsmen’s shoes when he had realized he had brought the wrong pair. “You feeling good, kid?” 

Noemi looked at the clock on the wall: half an hour until the ceremony started. She gave him a nervous smile. “Definitely got some butterflies, but they’re good ones. I’m excited.” 

The corner of his eyes crinkled. “Good, I’m glad. I remember when Christina and I got married, I was nervous, sure, but I knew. Knew she was the one, knew she was it for me. I’m glad you and Timo found each other, Noemi. A piece of advice?” She nodded. “Don’t get so caught up in the nerves and feeling like you need everything to be perfect that you forget what the day’s about. It’s about celebrating you, and him, and this marriage that you’re going to be building together. The photos will turn out great, nobody’s going to get food poisoning, and you won’t trip walking down the aisle. So don’t overthink it.” 

“Patrick, I just put my makeup on,” Noemi said, dabbing under her eyes with a napkin. “You can’t just say things like that and not expect me to cry.” 

He bent down, kissing her on the cheek. “You look beautiful, Noemi. This is your day. Enjoy it.” 

Patrick opened the door to the guy’s room just as Timo finished fastening his cufflinks. He looked up. “Were you just with No?”

 Patrick nodded. “She looks amazing, Timo.”

“Course she did,” he said, like it was the easiest answer in the world. ”How was she?” 

“Good. Nervous, but good. She’s with the girls, they were all drinking mimosas or something while they did their makeup,” Patrick said, sitting on the arm of the couch. 

Timo’s eyebrows lifted. “Was she in her dress?” 

“No,” Patrick said, rolling his eyes. Well-meaning though he was, he knew that Timo had been pestering Noemi to show him at least a glimpse of her dress, to no avail. She had ended up keeping it at her parents’ house when his bothering got to be too much. She loved it though. “You’ll see her soon.” Not soon enough, Timo thought. 

“You here to impart some sage wisdom, Patty?” Kevin asked, poking his head out of the bathroom as he straightened his tie. Red for the groomsmen, a subtle plaid for Timo. 

“As a matter of fact,” Patrick said, “I did have some things I thought about if you’d like to hear them.” 

Timo nodded quickly. “Of course.” It wasn’t just that he respected him for his role on the team and his former place in the locker room, it was his dedication to his family and healthy marriage that made him immediately tune in to whatever he had to say. 

“I know you’ve probably already figured this out already, having been together for as long as you have and living together now, but in case you haven’t. When you’re in a relationship, a marriage especially, you’re on the same team. You’re going after the same goal. Happiness and comfort and strength. Remember that. You’ll have disagreements, you might fight, but don’t let that overshadow the fact that whatever issue you two are facing, you’re meant to go at it together. Two,” he ticked off on his finger, “you’re going to have to compromise, probably more than you realize. Whether it’s what kind of take-out you’re going to get or where you’re going for vacation or what you’re going to do when you hang up the skates, listen to what she says, think about your priorities as a couple, and talk it out. And sometimes you’re going to have to learn when to let it go and let her win, regardless of if you think you’re right or not.” 

“I’m learning that one,” Timo said as he finished tying his dress shoes. 

Patrick smiled. “Good. Last, and probably the most important one, this is your priority now. Your marriage is your priority, she’s your priority. You said you guys talked about kids, yeah?” Timo nodded. “When you have kids, then, your family comes first. Your kids come first. I know it’s sometimes hard for people in our positions to wrap their brains around, when your whole life has been nothing but going to the rink and going to the gym, but there’s things that you’re going to need to prioritize over that, and that’s okay. The team understands it, everyone understands it. If you miss an optional skate to drop your kids off at school, or take off the gym for a week in the summer to go on vacation. If you’ve got to miss a game because your wife’s having a baby, or you take a call in a meeting when you shouldn’t because it’s Noemi and she needs you, that’s okay. Balance doesn’t come naturally to hockey players, hardly ever, but it’s something you’re going to need to learn, even better than you might think you know now. You do that, and you’ll be alright.”

There were less than ten minutes until Noemi had to leave, and Emily had just finished fastening the last button on her dress. Noemi took a deep breath, smoothing over the lace at her hips and straightening the edges of the three-quarter sleeves. “God, it’s really about to happen, isn’t it?” she asked in awe. 

Her mom squeezed her shoulder. “It is.”

“You need me to drive the getaway car?” Alise, her best friend from college asked, eyebrows raised, one hand playing with the skirt of her crimson bridesmaid’s dress. “I like Timo, I really do, but I love you more.”

Noemi let out a snort. “Thanks, Alise, but I think I’m going to have to pass on this one. We put down a fat deposit on this place and I wouldn’t want to lose it.”

“Pity, I just got the tank filled.” 

One of her other bridesmaids brought over the veil, gently tucking the comb in right above Noemi’s low bun. Noemi brushed her fingers over the comb’s pearls and clay flowers, remembering when Timo presented it to her as an early wedding present. “I was thinking it could be your something new.” Her late grandma’s pearl earrings were her something old, a ribbon from her mother’s wedding dress was wrapped around her bouquet, and a blue-edged handkerchief was pinned on the inside of her dress. Needless to say, it was gorgeous, and as Noemi slipped on her heels, she couldn’t help but think that it had all worked out better than she could have imagined. 

Mohana poked her head in, pushing back her dark hair as she smiled at the room. “Everyone ready?” 

“Bridesmaids are good,” Emily said, looking around. “No?”

Noemi nodded, taking yet another deep breath. “Good to go.” 

“Bouquets are outside, I was just with the guys and everything’s perfect, ties are all tied, boutonnières are all in. The second shooter got a few really sweet pictures of Timo’s mom putting his in.” 

“God, I almost forgot about the pictures,” Noemi said, even though the photographer had been in the room while everyone was getting ready. 

“Alright, let’s go get my bride married!” Mohana beamed. She handed everyone’s bouquets to them as they exited, ending with Noemi. She had designed the bouquets herself, white poppies and red roses and eucalyptus branches all tied together with her mother’s ribbon, but the florist had really outdone herself. A perk of working with the business end of the team was that it took her almost no time at all to get the vendor contacts that the team used for all of their formal events, and a perk of being a WAG was that it took her one text in a group chat to get the number of one of the South Bay’s best wedding planners. And Mohana Kaur had been nothing short of a lifesaver. She had taken Noemi’s vague sketches and fabric samples that she had picked up at Michael’s and turned it into what could only be described as a winter paradise. 

The flower girl, Noemi’s niece Elle, grabbed her basket of petals, looking back at her with delight. “Flowers, Auntie No!” 

Noemi nodded, beaming back at the little girl. “Very pretty flowers, El-bear. You remember what to do with them?”

“I go after Tobias,” Tomas’ son was their ring bearer, and had honestly occupied most of the attention at the rehearsal, not like she minded, “who goes after Mommy, who goes after Auntie Emily. And then I throw the flowers while I’m walking.”

“Perfect, sweet girl,” Noemi said, bending down — as much as she could in her heels — and gathering up the youngest Silva in a hug. She loved her four-year-old niece more than just about anyone, and it was moments like this that made her that much more excited to have children of her own someday. Mohana had silently gotten all of the bridesmaids in order, looking at Noemi as soon as she stood up. “Showtime?” Noemi asked.

Mohana gave her a wide smile. “You know it.” After giving her attendants one last cursory look, she laid a gentle hand on the space between Noemi’s shoulders, left bare from her open-backed dress. “You look gorgeous, Noemi, and the wedding’s going to be incredible.” With a nod of her head, she led the wedding party down the halls of the winery, stopping at the oaken set of double doors that stood as the only barrier between Noemi and the rest of her life. She could hear noise behind the doors, the chattering of the people most important to her in her life. 

Emily turned back towards her sister, squeezing Noemi’s hand. “I love you, No. You picked a good one.” She stepped off to the side as the doors opened, and one by one her bridesmaids walked out, then Tobias, then Elle, until it was only Mohana left. She gave Noemi’s veil a final adjustment, and then the music changed. A gorgeous acoustic version of Coldplay’s Yellow, one of Noemi’s favorite songs and one that had become something of a theme in her and Timo’s relationship. It was playing in his car the night of their first date, she was wearing a yellow dress when he told her he loved her for the first time, they had gone to a Coldplay concert at Levi’s Stadium the summer before the wedding, just after he had flown back from Switzerland. 

Noemi took a deep breath, looked down at her ring, and stepped out the door. Some of her friends had been surprised when she told them she’d be walking down alone. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her dad, or wasn’t close to him — the opposite was true. She just felt that there wasn’t a need to feel like someone was “giving her away.” Nobody but herself had the power to do that, so nobody but herself needed to be a part of that element of the ceremony. It was the same reason she had chosen to hyphenate her name instead of just taking Timo’s. She had always loved the idea of a family having the same name, of everyone being easily identifiable as being connected to one another in that sort of way, and she didn’t like the seeming disjointeness that would happen when they had kids, even if if wouldn’t matter to anyone but her. But she also loved her name, loved how it sounded and what it meant and the connection it gave to her ancestors. So Silva-Meier it was. 

Her veil trailed behind her as she made her way down the aisle, past the rows filled with 200 of their friends and family who had proven invaluable resources and support over the nearly-three years of their relationship. She risked a look at the end of the aisle, just off to the side of the eucalyptus-and-rose edged wedding arch. Where her fiancé was, the last time she could really call him her fiancé. Timo wasn’t necessarily more stoic than most of the other men she knew, and he was actually a fantastic communicator, but he wasn’t always one to show his heart on his sleeve. No such uncertainty today. The corners of his eyes were glassy with unshed tears, a few of which threatened to escape down his cheek. Kevin tapped him on the shoulder, handing him a handkerchief. I hope the photographer got that, Noemi thought distractedly. 

It sometimes was hard for Timo to outwardly show his feelings, especially at the beginning of their relationship; Noemi loved Timo wildly, and there was no doubt in her mind that he felt the same, but Switzerland was never known as a particularly warm-and-fuzzy country, he was still an NHL player with all of the expectations and influences of hypermasculinity that came along with that. There were three times in their relationship where Noemi could remember seeing him cry. Eight months into their relationship, when her mom, Katherine, had had a stroke, he sat with her in the chapel of O’Connor Hospital as she sobbed harder than she ever had in her entire life, and he cried with her. The second time was when he proposed, and when she said yes. The third time was the May before, when the Sharks had gotten within one game of finally hoisting the Stanley Cup but fell to the Capitals in Game 6. At home. She had seen him lose games, seen him lose playoff series’, but that had been a whole new kind of hurt that she had never seen from him, and one that she never wanted to see again. 

This was the fourth, and as she reached the end of the aisle, Noemi couldn’t help but think that if she reached up to her eyes, they’d be wet too. Noemi handed her bouquet off to Emily, and reached over for Timo. “Your hands are shaking, No,” he murmured as the crowd settled back down, their officiant extending a welcome to the crowd that the two barely paid attention to. The introduction, the invocation, all went by in the blink of an eye. “Timo, would you like to go first?” the officiant asked. Noemi had been so caught up in the surrealism of the day that she barely realized it was time for the vows. 

“Of course,” he said, giving Noemi’s hands one last squeeze before beginning. “I always thought it was cliché when people say that love comes into your life when you least expect it, or when you’re not looking for it. A 23-year-old in the NHL usually isn’t looking to settle down and get married anytime soon.” Noemi gave a watery laugh. “But with you, I quickly discovered how right that was. Noemi Francisca Silva, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted and, somehow, you fill parts of myself I didn’t even realize were missing until you came along. I could go on for hours about how much I love you, everything about you. I love how whenever Hozier comes on the radio, you turn the volume in the car up so loud I can’t hear anything else, even when you’re singing along. I love how you never wrap a present without curling the ribbons yourself, no matter how many times I tell you we can buy bows. I love how you don’t even have to ask me what kind of pizza I want when we order anymore, because you already know. But most of all, I love how you’re my partner, my best friend, the person I love the most in this world. And in a few minutes, you’ll be my wife. I love you, No.”

“You had an unfair advantage,” Noemi said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’m calling a foul.” She took a deep breath. “When I look back on our relationship, from the first time we met, to our vacations, to our anniversaries, to the day you proposed, there’s one theme that I keep coming back to. It’s the first thing I thought of when I sat down to write these weeks ago. It’s how you never fail to make me feel so unbelievably loved. It doesn’t matter where we are, or who we’re with. We could be at one of the fundraisers, where you’re meant to be schmoozing with Silicon Valley tech execs, or at a party with our friends. You hear me, you see me, and when I’m with you, I feel like we’re the only two people in the room. The biggest piece of relationship I ever got, from my vovó, was to marry someone who makes you want to be a better person. I’ve never met anyone who does that as well as you do, Timo, and you don’t even have to do anything. I’m a better version of myself, the best version of myself, just from being around you.” She paused, going over the words that she had been rehearsing in her head for two weeks straight whenever her fiancé was out of earshot one last time. “Du bosch mine Schatz, und Ich lieb di Bis dass de Tod eus scheidet.” 

Timo’s breath caught in his throat at her words. He knew that Noemi had been trying to pick up bits and pieces of Swiss German, but he wasn’t always there to help and it was a notoriously tricky language to pick up. That she had done it on her own made it all the more meaningful. “Timo, do you take Noemi to be your lawful wedded wife? Do you promise to love and cherish her, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse, and forsaking all others, for so long as you both shall live?”  He spoke without hesitation. “I do.”

“And do you, Noemi, take Timo to be your lawful wedded husband? Do you promise to love and cherish him, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse, and forsaking all others for so long as you both shall live?” Giving her answer was as easy as breathing. “I do.” 

Her nervous hands slid Timo’s wedding band onto his left ring finger, and he moved hers into place above her engagement ring. “Now that Timo and Noemi have given themselves to each other with vows, the joining of hands and the giving and receiving of rings, I pronounce that they are husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” 

Noemi had had a lot of kisses in her life, more than she could count. There was her first boyfriend, and senior prom, and college parties, and everything in between. But when Timo’s lips met hers, underneath the sprig of mistletoe that hung from their wedding arch, as he became her husband, she knew without a doubt that this was her favorite one.