#and as a courtesy to you all I won’t even be talking about that AWFUL handwriting

[juliarobertsisswedish]

Can we talk about this ID card please?

His written full name is Logico. Just Logico. Which means one of three things:

1. He misunderstood the concept of a “full name” being a first and last name (unlikely).

2. People in the Murdleverse are given exactly one name at birth, Middle Ages-style. Which means, I guess, that they use honorifics like Miss Saffron and Dr. Crimson to differentiate themselves between the other Saffrons and Crimsons…?

3. Logico’s parents just straight-up did not bother to give him a last name

[heartpiratedrabbles]

His Hat

Prompt: Courtesy of @tsunderedonut: Imagine Law putting his hat on his shy, vulnerable S/O that's riding him for the first time.

NSFW

Trafalgar Law X Reader

You have confidence. You’re courageous. You weren’t self-conscience at all. When it came to your job. Being a mechanic for the Polar Tang was like a dream job for you. You stayed in the boiler room watching levels go up and down and you knew exactly how to fix any leaks or breaks that came about. You were ecstatic when the Surgeon of Death came to your shore so long-ago needing repairs and just so happened to see you’re value onboard the ship after fixing everything, eagerly packing your bags to join the crew.

           You were not, however, prepared for love. Despite being on the world for over 2 decades, you had only gone on one hap-hazard date that your friend had set you up on, and needless to say it ended up awful. The man flirted with your roommate right in front of you, and despite your naivety, even you knew what he was doing. Plus, with a few undesirable stalkers here and there, you decided dating wasn’t for you. And so, your short, non-existing love life had come to an end.

         That is until you joined the Heart Pirates. After getting to know everyone on board you realized your feelings for your captain burned like a wild fire. It was dangerous and weird, being completely new territory compared to what you have felt before. At first you had thought it was some ship-madness, you were warned by your captain/doctor when you arrived that it could take a while to get use to life on a submarine, even more so when they rarely surfaced. But as you went about your duties and getting to know the crew, you realized that your heart never beat that fast around the others, even so you tried to deny such feelings.

         You got close to Penguin as he often came to the boiler room for menial tasks and found more out about, your captain. Despite his cold, non-caring demeanor, he always made sure everyone was alright. And although he didn’t show it, he did enjoy the antics played by the crew. Although he demanded his alone time, he was just as often to be found in the rec-room watching as others drank or played a game. Penguin also clued you in that once a month Law joined in on any game of the crews picking to stay connected.

         And it wasn’t until you were drinking alongside Penguin, that he confronted you, “So you like Law huh?” He chattered out after taking a swig of his glass. You choked on what you were drinking, nearly spitting it out at his words, your face turning the brightest shade of red he had ever seen. “Jeez, blush any harder and the rest of your body won’t have any blood,” He had laughed out at your reaction.

         “What?!?” You practically yelled at him, you felt your body stiffen at the thought and you could hear Shachi in the background ask if Penguin was bullying you. “I don’t like anyone. Never have,” You tried to reason taking the last swig of your drink, you didn’t know the feelings of love. The uncomfortable, painful feelings of unrequited love that made you dumb in the mind and weak in your knees, stomach slightly queasy at the thought of someone.

         “Please, you only pay attention to my ramblings when I’m talking about him. No need to be shy Y/N,” Penguin grinned out before reaching over to fill your glass up again, “Just relax. Feelings aren’t going to hurt you.” You looked around to see if anyone else was listening in but other than Shachi glancing at you two from across the room, everyone else seemed occupied.

         The thought of sharing your life with someone, with Law of all people, everything from the simple hand holding to the fantasies of sharing a bed, going on small dates and being marked in one way or another. You shake your head violently to get rid of such things before downing your entire glass. “There’s no way Penguin.” You squeaked out not making eye contact with him.

         “Denile will get you no where Y/N. Just accept it, I didn’t realize you were such a virgin when it came to matters of the heart,” He laughed at your misery, and how your eyes fixed on a portion of the table in front of you.

         “I don’t have feelings Penguin! Feelings are messy squishy things that don’t make sense. I’m not stupid enough to let something I can’t control distract me from my life,” You pipe out quickly, grabbing the bottle from the man’s hands to take another swig. He smirked at you, unconvinced of your words, “Just because I sometimes think about him doesn’t mean anything!” You immediately stop, eyes wide as you look at Penguin, whose smirk has turned into a full toothed grin.

         “You’re right! Feelings don’t make sense. But you can’t stop them from happening,” He gleefully said, “Excuse me one second.” You watch as he stood up, “You owe me 20 Berries Shachi!” He yelled across the room while walking over to the grumbling crewmember.

         You slam your head against the table with a ‘thud’. Feelings. Sure, you imagined how it would feel like to have the captain by your side, to be able to capture his eyes and keep him for yourself. You held your breathe at such thoughts, that could never happen. Hiding your face in your arms, you heard Penguin return to his seat but you couldn’t look at him.

         Over the next couple of weeks, the pair would make quips and remarks of your crush if you were alone with them, instantly making you freeze like an ice cube. The prodding from them had made your feelings all the more evident to yourself and it had made it harder and harder to bury such fuzzy emotions. You weren’t the most social of person, but now you found it harder than ever to talk to anyone, the embarrassment and fear of them finding out about your unrequited feelings being too much for you to bear. The only time you’d be able to speak confidently is if it was about work, it was easy to avoid emotions when you had to think in facts and bury them with work.

         That is, until you noticed a particularly important part starting to show signs of breaking. Best to take care of it now than be in trouble later, you headed to your Captains office for approval to buy the new part. He hadn’t been expecting you but happily let you into his quiet office. You stood in front of his desk explaining the issue and how it’d be better to replace it now and he seemed to agree.

         But as you turned to leave, he called out, “Y/N-ya,” you stopped in your tracks. Had one of your maintenance reports not been up to par? You’re back still turned to him your mind was reeling at what you could have messed up but you were certain there was no way you would turn in half-assed work. And then, your mind suddenly stopped. Realizing where you were, who you were talking to. Your heart beating faster, cheeks turning slightly red. “I’ve noticed you’ve been avoiding me recently,” Law’s voice rang out in the room, his smooth deep voice, addressing you and not something to do with your job. “Did I do something wrong?”

         You pick your head up slightly at the last sentence, snapping around to face him head on, frantically trying to reassure that it has nothing to do with him, “I just haven’t been feeling well-“ You quickly pipe out not thinking of anything else as you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

         Law perks up at your sudden excuse, immediately standing up, taking long strides to get to you quickly. A hand immediately going to your forehead, freezing at the sudden contact you feel your cheeks burn up, “You do seem to have a fever,” He muttered to himself before activating his powers to transport the both of you to the med bay. “Sit down real quick,” He demanded as he went to grab a stethoscope.

         It was hard to breathe. Here you were with a stupid school-girl crush, making your Captain worried over nothing. Yet you couldn’t quite seem to find the right words, trying to push off your illness as a quick thing that’d be gone soon. But Law would hear none of it. Quickly he listened to your heart, asking you to breathe in and out as you whine out that it’s truly nothing. It’s not until he places a hand on your back to keep you from shying away that he realized your heart beating faster at his own touch.

         He quickly glanced up at your face, that you were desperately trying to hide from him by staring at the far corner away from him. “Are you truly unwell Y/N-ya?” He firmly asked, demanding a truthful answer.

         And just like that your Captain found out your feelings for him. You rushed to your room the second you felt his touch leave you to ignore the rejection you refused to hear. And it wasn’t until the next day that Law had come to find you of his own accord, asking you out on a date the next time they reached land.

~~~

         That was months ago, 6 months to be precise. And ever since you had been dating the man in front of you. You still couldn’t believe it, it felt unreal. “It seems like your mind is elsewhere love,” He leaned up to give you a peck on the lips, gently taking your hands in his.

         You had decided to try and be forward yourself this time round, and couldn’t help but feeling like backing out now. You had certainly had sex before but it was never like this, not when the lights were still on, not when you could see his reactions. The simple fact sending your head reeling at how hot Law was underneath you.

         You had lured him back to his room, claiming you needed to talk to him. You had been slightly jealous of how he was talking to a bar maiden on land and immediately confronted him, only now losing your nerve. The second he stepped into the room you had slammed the door shut and pushed him on the bed, straddling him before you were going to ride him. But the second you got on top of him your mind started working again. This was also the first time you were truly on top of him, looking down at him, seeing how he stared back up at you with heat in his eyes. You cheeks become more red as you avoid his gaze.

         “What were you going to do now that we’re alone?” Law smirks while looking at you, no doubt enjoying how flustered you looked. He gripped your hips before jutting his own up into you. You fall forward, the movement snapping you out of your daze.

         “I. I was,” You try to stutter out as he lifts your shirt up, and you let him rip it off you, his eyes staring right into you. You look down slightly, still avoiding eye contact, “I was gonna remind you that your mine.” You whisper, embarrassed at the thought now.

         Law gleefully shifts, taking off his own shirt in the process, “And how were you going to do that?” He urges you to continue. Law enjoyed watching how flustered you could get, despite dating for a decent amount of time you still couldn’t control yourself in situations where he’s giving you all his attention. Looking down at him, you quickly cover his eyes with one of your hands.

         “No looking,” You whine out as you start to get off him, “You have to give me a second.” Law chuckles a bit but goes to move his hat, which had fallen a couple inches away when you pushed him, over his eyes, assuring you he won’t take a peek. After a quick second of making sure he can’t see you, you stand up fully.

         You look at the man in front of you before turning around, taking off your pants quickly, glancing over your shoulder just to be sure. Law decides humming will distract him in this situation. Frustrated at your playful boyfriend, you get to work on his pants, him lifting his hips slightly to help you undress him. His cock springing up as you release it from its cloth prison.

         Law lets you widen his legs as you kneel between them, stopping just inches away from his dick. You see movement from the corner of your eye and snap your head back up, “No peeking!” You yell out more embarrassed at your own actions than anything else. Law puts his arm back down, deciding to keep quiet for the time being.

         You take one more deep breath before you wrap your lips around him. Slowly bobbing your head up and down, covering his member in saliva. The salty taste of his precum making you go insane with desire. Your slow pacing doesn’t seem up to Law’s standards as he bucks his hips forward, making you gag in the process. You place both your hands on his hips to try and control your boyfriend, and while he didn’t stop entirely from pumping his hips towards your head, he was a little gentler.

         “Fuck Y/N-ya,” Law groaned out when you sat up, leaving his cock wanting for more. You looked up to make sure he still couldn’t see you and sighed when you saw the hat still in place. Readjusting yourself to now be sitting on him again you could hear him take a sharp breath. His throbbing cock in one hand, aiming it towards your entrance as you sink down on him slowly. It felt completely different than normal. You were in control, and every inch was touching you in places you didn’t think was possible. The pleasure already overwhelming.

         You try to hold in your own moan as you sink lower, feeling impossibly full as he bottoms out in you. You sit there for a second, hands on Law’s abs to steady yourself, holding your breath at this new pleasure you’ve discovered before grinding your hips, feeling him deep inside you. You finally remember to breathe after Law decides to thrust up into you, falling forward on his chest as he wraps his arms around you, pinning you to him. You gasp for air, moaning his name as he sets a brutal pace.

         “L-Law,” You moan out in frustration and you look up to see him shift his head to peek out from under the hat, with an absolutely devilish grin on his face.

He places a kiss on your forehead, “Yes love?” He thrusts into you again and you wiggle one of your arms free, prying yourself out of his arms to sit back up. Only to be met with another wave of pleasure at the different angle. You mind becoming empty of most thoughts as you hear the man below you chuckle. He reaches up taking his hat and placing it on your head, caressing your body before landing both his hands on your hips. You gasp a bit as he holds you down slightly, feeling him twitching inside you.

With some encouragement from his large hands, you start to ride Law like there’s no tomorrow. Barely being able to breathe yourself as he hits every sensitive part of you. Every now and then stopping to feel how full you feel with him in you. Tears brimming your eyes as your mind is flooded with pleasure and lust.

Laws eyes devour you, savoring every inch as he watches you bounce on him. Your head lulled back and forth; mouth hung open as you scream his name. His hat would be covering your eyes if you hadn’t been continuously pushing it up before going back to steadying yourself on him. The sight before him being a drug he never knew he was addicted too until you had come around. He feels you twitch around him and he stops his own thrusts, gripping your hips to stop you from moving any further.

“Law!” you scream out at the lack of movement, grinding your hips for any friction. He smirks up at you, not responding, watching as you desperately try to bounce despite not being able too. Law slowly raises his hips, holding your hips in the same spot, reaching deeper than before and it begins to feel like it too much. You cry trying to squirm, move, anything to help relieve the pressure that was making you insane. “Please Law,” you beg him to do something.

You can barely see his face underneath you, the hat falling over your eyes, but you’re certain Law has a smirk on his face as he ignores your pleads. Gasping for air you finally fall forward, gripping your boyfriends’ shoulders, “It’s too much- Please Law,” You beg into his chest trying to move even an inch over feeling how deep he is. How you can still feel him twitch slightly inside of you at every moan and plead. Making your mind numb from the overwhelming pleasure and pressure building up.

After a quick second, Law lifts your chin with one of his hands, the other still firmly planted on your hip, “You’re adorable Y/N-ya.” Law whispers it while staring right into your tear stained eyes, kissing you gently before suddenly flipping you over so that you are now on your back. How he stayed inside of you was a mystery but the feeling drove you insane as he hooking both your legs over his shoulders, pounding into you fast and hard.

You try to grip the bed underneath you to stabilize yourself before you looked up to see how Law was looking at you. The insatiable devil in front of you looking directly at all the faces you made as you continued to moan his name. The realization of what he was doing, angling every now and then and licking his lips as you twisted about, he loved watching you. You quickly grab the brim of his hat, pulling it over your face to avoid his gaze.

This brought about 2 different things in this intense moment. One was the immense and heavenly smell of Law’s hair, the shampoo he used that drove you crazy while you played with his hair, and the second being Law leaning forward, your legs still hooked over his shoulders as he continued to ruin you. Crying out as he stole your lips, shoving his tongue into your mouth while adjusting his hat to be properly on your head. “Don’t hide from me,” He growled out in desire before recapturing your lips.

You move your hands to wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss while one hand rakes its way through his hair and the other digging your nails into his back. You could feel your orgasm approaching quickly and you tugged at his hair to release your lips, “Law please. I want you to cum~”  

He leans down to leave marks on your neck as you scream out his name, “Are you ready?” He asks one last time into your ears and you can barely reply to him as pleasure is overfilling you. Law quickly following suit, slowing down only after you felt him fill you. The both of you stay there for a second, catching your breaths.

Law’s the first one to move, slowly pulling out and gently putting your legs down, knowing how they were numb at this point. You groan at soreness from being empty but can feel his seed slipping out of you. “This is dangerous,” Law smiles at you from his standing position as you stare at him, still on cloud nine.

“What is?” You mutter out, looking at him from half-lidded eyes.

He leans down close to you, giving a gentle kiss before peppering them down your neck to your collarbone, “You only wearing my hat. It’s absolutely hypnotic.” He breathes into your neck with lust still in his voice.

[angst-is-love-angst-is-life]

In regards to Talk Shop Tuesday, what projects are you currently working on?

Thanks for asking! I have a lot, so please bear with me here

Well there’s ofc Trophy; the fic where Zoom wins that no one wanted but me :> I also have a few AUs for that but probably won’t post them because they’re usually just 3 am writing sessions that aren’t very polished.

Got my Coldflash royalty AU where Barry’s the {former ?} prince of a kingdom that had just been overthrown by Eobard Thawne and Len’s the son of a former Royal Guard captain but wants to stay as far away from that legacy as possible. Their paths converge when Len is invited to an event celebrating the new king’s victory where poor Barry, chained beside Thawne’s throne, is used as a sort of trophy. Len doesn’t truly know yet; but his life will never be the same. Whelp— idk why I got all dramatic but that’s the beginning/premise lol

“For every One you didn’t save” is going to be rough for Barry… (I say, as if any of them aren’t. BUT this one is going to be particularly awful for his mental health). Our favorite awful bastard Eobard Thawne will fulfill the whumper role and I think that’s all I need to say. Need to work on this more ngl

“one thing” Mm. Another one with Eobard as The Worst. Honestly I’m not even sure if this would be considered whump— it’s just. Hmm. I tried to rewrite a certain scene in Coex and something happened that I Did Not mean to happen.

Get whumped idiot (placeholder title). Coldflash fic where Barry’s kidnapped as a sort of guest of honor at a fun little party for all the worst criminals in Central City. I really really need to revisit this soon cause it’s been a bit.

Enemy of my Enemyyyyyy we gotta start tormenting Barry next chapter and I WILL— I swear—

Ah yes. The Thawne kidnaps Barry instead of Eddie AU. Instead of using him to get back to his time, Thawne decides to use the blood sample from Farooq and steals Barry’s speed. Well. The process of stealing said speed is estimated to take around a week so Barry’s time is running out fast while the team desperately tries to find him. Will they get to him in time or find Barry just too late? Knowing me, it could go either way :)

Courtesy of @shrinkthisviolet I now have a ‘Savitar kidnaps and impersonates Barry’ AU that is marinating atm but has part of a scene written and an outline in progress.

Lastly, I won’t be talking about it much because I do have some rules to keep myself from spreading too thin; and one of them is only one big project at a time. But I’ve been planning a Hurt/Comfort Flash longfic (estimated 40k; probably more) for a while now. I will be talking about it —after I finish Trophy— because I have been c o o k i n g . It’s what I like to call slow burn whump. It will take a bit to get to the whump but BOY WILL IT BE WORTH IT. And this one is specifically whump aftermath (with some flashbacks to the whump). I literally can’t wait— but first, I must finish Trophy. (I do pick favorites and Trophy is #1 while this is #2)

Talk Shop Tuesday

[d1d11818]

I’ll be honest I fell off my bed while trying to read your responses. Not anyone’s fault but my own obv but it was really funny and I felt the need to share. Ow :[

This is also going to sound weird but I really like the way you think about things, 1818. I was going to have a whole like, paragraph about some inane stuff on like altruism and anthropology but it’s not interesting so. Anyway, I think you’re already doing really well on the ‘being a good person’ front, from the very limited amount of time I’ve known you (Does this count as knowing? I don’t mean to overstep.)

I cannot say I wasn’t a tiny bit worried but I was also mostly confident you knew what the game sort of entailed. :,]

I really really like horror as a genre as well! I’ve been watching a lot of ‘horror’ movies, though I don’t think I’ve actually really been scared by any thusfar. Which is bumming me out because I WANT to be scared. I’m not sure if you’re much of a movie person though, so I won’t suggest anything, but if you’ve got a favorite I would totally love to add it to my list!

- 🐠 (I’m fine with any, really, but my favorites are they / them and a set of neos but I’m always nervous to tell people that.)

- Oh come now, I'm not so funny you have to fall over.

- Ha!

- In all seriousness, do be more careful.

- Human bodies are remarkably weak.

- I'd hate to see you struggling with pain.

- As much as I can see, anyway.

- I'm pleasantly surprised you think that way.

- You're right, it is weird to find my way of thinking likeable.

- It is not a common opinion.

- Most people consider it a betrayal to my beginnings as a human.

- Even if I was like this back then, too.

- They always seem to ignore that fact.

- I think the notion of 'you need empathy to be likeable' is absurd.

- It refuses to take into consideration those who struggle with it, while denying that claim in response.

- But anyway.

- We're all a little weird here, aren't we?

- There's no shame in that, but rather pride.

- I'm speaking in a powerful and reassuring way to hide my overwhelming reaction to a compliment.

- I... do not get much praise.

- As for the inane paragraph, you have personally captured my interest.

- Although I doubt my colleague will be as patient about it.

- Moving on.

- I'll stop rambling, so D1d1 gets a chance to talk.

- Never fear about overstepping, my friend.

- I'm just grateful for the company.

- Distancing myself can get a bit...

- ... lonely.

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

- My turn, edgelord!

- And in response to the plant post, 1818, I'm not a moron!! I'm just intellectually challenged.

- I love horror movies!! But I definitely relate to your struggle. The concept of fear is kind of null with me. I don't know why. I've tried challenging it but nothing works! My system just constantly reminds me that they're fake, and I can't find myself frightened by that.

- The closest I've ever come to fear is more discomfort, and that came curtesy of Junji Ito. Is that the right curtesy? Courtesy? It feels incorrect either way. Anyway, the discomfort came less from thinking the situations could be achieved, but more where the ideas came from. The thoughts of such realities sprouting in a mind I can't even comprehend is uncomfortable to me, and I don't know why!

- That balloon one especially... I got awful uncanny valley with that one.

- My favourite horror film though, is probably Trick r Treat! I think it's fun!

- Also feel free to share your neos if and when you're comfortable! We support those here! :D

- Look! I made a tiny face! :D :D :D

[okayigetitifuckedup]

Alice’s Alley- Blog Post

Gotham’s Wedding of the Decade? An Intimate Peek into Dr. Quinzel and Jack Ryder's Exclusive Invite! 💍✨

Hello, my lovely readers of Alice’s Alley! 🎀

Alright, deep breaths! Where to even begin? As soon as I saw that luxe envelope (with its embossed seal, no less!) I knew it was something momentous. And lo and behold, inside was THE invite of the decade: Dr. Harleen Quinzel and Jack Ryder's wedding invitation! Eek! I can't even!

First off, the invite's sheer elegance and the fact that I, little ol' me, am on the guest list? 😍 Like, is this real life? Also, can we please talk about that QR code and the security level on this thing? Never have I felt more James Bond than when accessing the wedding details. The level of exclusivity? Off the charts!

Now, let's dive into the absolute splendor of the invite itself. That sumptuous black card with the delicate white details? The “J” & “H” emblem entwined? Every intricate detail has me gasping in awe. And, "Into the light from the shadows"? Profound. Moving. Iconic. I mean, swoon.

The location: Wayne Manor. Wayne. Manor. As in, THE Bruce Wayne might be in attendance? Oh-em-gee! How am I ever going to keep my cool? Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding in person? A photo op, perhaps? 📸

But now, ladies and gents, the real dilemma. What ever will I wear? The invite says: Strictly Black and White. Now, my heart is screaming Breakfast at Tiffany’s vibes. Audrey Hepburn chic, tiara, pearls, the works. But now I'm thinking, what if everyone goes down the Holly Golightly route? Must. Stand. Out. Or I could never show my face in Gotham again!

And oh, speaking of face, those bangs I impulsively cut? Perfect for an Audrey updo, right? But, but, what if they clash with the tiara? You see my dilemma. And the pearls... oh, decisions! Leave me your thoughts below, I'm in dire need of advice!

One tiny cloud on this sunny horizon though - my wallet is definitely going to feel a lot lighter. Oh, the price we pay for perfection. Between the new dress, shoes, and accessories, it's going to be a shopping spree to remember.

This isn’t just a wedding, dears. It’s an event. The crème de la crème of Gotham will be there, rubbing shoulders, sipping champagne. An evening of decadence, glamour, and hopefully some juicy gossip.

And of course, I’ll be spilling ALL the details right here after the grand affair! So, stick around, because you won’t want to miss the inside scoop, courtesy of yours truly!

Stay fabulous, my darlings, and keep those suggestions pouring in. Till the next gush session! 🍾🥂

In never-ending excitement and sparkles, Alice P. 🌸💄

P.S.: To all my new readers, welcome to our glam gang! You've stepped into a whirlwind of excitement! 😄 And remember, Breakfast at Tiffany’s look - yay or nay? Comment below! 💋💌

[mercy-burning]

Roommate Agreement

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader x Luke Alvez Summary: After about a year of living with Spencer, Y/N gets excited when he introduces her to a new potential roommate. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Free use, threesome, cum play, penetrative/unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (male receiving), rough sex, dirty talk Word Count: 2.3k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: I was gonna write this as a blurb, but it got a little longer than I anticipated lol. I’ve been super into this kink/fantasy lately, so uh.. this was just pure indulgence 🥰✌

———

Apartment hunting and living on my own sucked, which is why Spencer Reid coming into my life was the biggest blessing I ever could have hoped for. He was handsome, kind, welcoming... And he let me live with him for free.

Well, not entirely.

But regardless of our little agreement, I still slip him some cash when rent comes up because it's just common courtesy. I'm grateful that he lets me stay with him and provides me with what I need (and then some), and if there's any way for me to return that favor, I'll do it.

He gets annoyed with me whenever I do it, but I always know how to get him to forget about it...

Just thinking about last night brings a smile to my face as I put away the last few glasses in their respective cupboards.

The heavy padding of Spencer's feet behind me makes me turn around then, and I nearly clench my legs at the sight of him, dressed and ready for work, except his dick is out and hefty in his right hand. It's hard, leaking, and by the look on his face I can tell he's about ready to let go.

"Give me your panties, sweetheart."

Before he even gets out the whole sentence, I make quick work of lifting my shirt out of the way and opening up the fabric, pulling it away from my body and giving him an opening. He walks up with a hungry kiss to my jaw as he jerks himself off, right into my panties until he's making a mess of them. I sigh out happily as he hums against my skin.

And when he's done, he kisses my cheek chastely and uses my shirt to clean up a bit before tucking himself back neatly into his pants. I adjust my panties and feel the warmth spread over my skin while he grabs his bag from the back of the chair to leave.

"Have a good day, Doctor," I call with a cute smile, my hand dipping down to feel the mess he made and wishing he didn't have to go.

"You too, sweetheart," he returns with a wink. He turns to leave, but before he's at the door, he throws back, "Oh, and make sure you're dressed properly when I get back, he's coming over with me after work."

"Wait, really?" I ask brightly, my heart starting to race.

"Mhm. He's excited to meet you."

I’d had plans to run some errands today, but as soon as he tells me the good news, I know I won't be able to get anything done.

———

The second I hear the door, I'm waiting like a dog with a wagging tail, excited for extra company and eager to make a new friend. I flatten my tiny skirt, though with how frilly it is, it really makes no difference— I think that as excited as I am, I'm definitely anxious about potentially adding a new person to our dynamic.

My hands reach behind my back and clasp together as I rock slowly on my feet, ready to welcome them when they come through the door.

Spencer, as always, looks positively delicious, and it only amplifies when he sees me and smiles, reaching out for me. "Somebody's excited..."

In his embrace, I laugh and welcome his hand as it slips up the front of my skirt to make sure I've followed his instructions. He quickly runs his middle finger through my opening, a smile forming on his lips— I can feel it against my neck. "Good girl."

"I couldn't help it," I tell him earnestly, refraining from whining in protest when he removes himself from me entirely. Then I look over his shoulder to see our guest of honor, Spencer's co-worker Luke Alvez. With a shy smile, I reach my hand out to shake his. "I have a new guest to impress."

Luke accepts my hand with a smile all his own, accompanied by wandering eyes that make me feel warm from head-to-toe. It reminds me of how I felt when I first met Spencer while apartment hunting last year. Luke's eyes are just a few shades darker but regardless of color, the hunger swimming within them remains plentiful.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," he says smoothly. His voice makes me feel a whole new sense of ease and the overwhelming need to submit to him entirely. "I've heard great things."

With introductions out of the way, Spencer ushers Luke into the apartment and I close the door. "Let me show you around a bit," he says, and the two walk off, leaving me to follow behind.

We tour the whole apartment, Spencer taking his sweet time with the walking and the talking... I swear he's doing it on purpose, to make me wait and get me riled up, but regardless I stay patient and involve myself in their conversations as normal. Actually, it would have all felt like a completely normal apartment tour in the first place, had I not been thinking about how the men accompanying me would use me in the future...

Spencer saves the living room for last, and once we make it to the couch, I pray that he's ready to start showing Luke the added benefit of choosing to live here rather than in an apartment by himself...

And he knows me so well, because he pulls me aside with a cheeky smile, his hand resting firmly on my ass and under my skirt. "So, Alvez, you wanna give her a whirl?"

"You're uh... You're sure this is alright? You don't mind?"

His concern is sweet, but I can see the lust sparkling in his eyes as he looks over me once more.

Spencer laughs a bit, squeezing my ass with a nod. "Of course. Look how happy she is to see you... So ready to be used up..."

Luke's tongue darts out over his bottom lip at my roommate's words, his decision becoming more clear.

Still, I help out. "It's true... When Spencer first mentioned adding a new roommate to our arrangement, I couldn't wait... And you're perfect.

"So what do you say?" Spencer asks once more with finality.

Luke strides over to me slowly, my head tilting higher with each inch he gets closer. He looks down at my lips and smiles before bringing his thumb gently to my mouth. "This pretty little mouth has been calling to me since I walked through the door..."

I hear Spencer laugh beside me as Luke slips his thumb past my lips and over my tongue. I suck it into my mouth with a tiny groan, flitting my eyes up at him and arching my back as Spencer's grip on my ass gets tighter.

"Get on the couch, sweetheart," he says, letting go and giving me a small spank.

Luke's thumb pops out of my mouth and I stumble to the couch, getting on all fours so my hands are on the arm and my knees are buried in one of the cushions.

The unmistakable sound of their laughing fills my ears and makes me even more eager, though I know better than to tell them outright what I want. Unless either of them asks me to, I'm not going to beg. I mean, I'm not sure about Luke, but I know that Spencer prefers when I use visual signs in our daily routine. He likes to hear me use my words, sure, but that's only on occasions where he's in a happier, more giving mood. Most of the fucking we do is when he comes home frustrated and needs to take. No questions asked.

And truthfully, I like that more. Which is why I'd agreed to be his roommate in the end.

Spencer does seem to be more giving today, moving this right along and taking his pants off before walking over to me while his friend follows suit, but I follow our rules anyway, wanting to make a good impression on Luke (though I'm positive I've already secured that bag).

Luke's pants come off too, though he waits until he's right in front of my face. I'm looking up at him with my bottom lip between my teeth, and when he starts to work at his belt, I look down to see.

Meanwhile I feel Spencer's weight dip down behind me, and it doesn't take long for him to slide right in, spreading my legs further and beginning to fuck me steadily. He gathers my hair from my face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand while the other rests at my hip. "You gonna be a big girl and open your mouth wide, or do I have to make you?"

I respond in kind by slacking my jaw and welcoming Luke, his hands coming down to tilt my chin and slide his thick, hard dick into my mouth.

"That's right, sweetheart," Spencer praises, giving me another small spank and a slight tug of the hair. Meanwhile Luke is slowly fucking my throat, pushing himself deeper with each thrust.

Eventually, the two of them are fucking me with perfect rhythm. Each time Spencer goes in, Luke goes out, and their force is even the same. It's building and building with each second, and I can feel my whole body start to go numb with pleasure. My knees are tingling from the couch, my ass is surely red from how many times Spencer has spanked me, and my throat is bruising beautifully.

Spencer's hand releases my ass and reaches out to my throat. The way he's bending forward gives him a deeper angle inside me, and I can't help the choked whimper that comes out of my mouth because of it. He can feel it, too, because his fingers rest just under my chin.

"His cock feels so good down your throat, doesn't it, baby?" he coos, driving into me harder.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a few seconds to blink away the tears that blur my vision, and when I open them I look up at Luke, pure unadulterated bliss painting his features. He looks down at me with awe and lust and need, and I can tell that it won't be long before he snaps.

"When he comes, you're gonna keep it in, okay? I wanna see it..."

I clench around Spencer at his words, and my orgasm follows shortly after. As soon as I start to come down, Luke holds himself still at the back of my throat and comes with a shout, his hands rooting in my hair. I try my hardest to keep it all in, meanwhile Spencer starts to stutter as well. And by the time Luke is pulling himself away from me, his friend is coming inside me, just like he's done so many times before.

It's a familiar, wonderful feeling, though this time it's even better because I know I have cum filling both ends of me. I feel so full, so warm and numb and fucked out, and I never want to go a single day without it that way.

When Spencer pulls out and leaves the couch, Luke makes room for him in front of me. He steps into view then, reaching his hand out to pry my mouth open and examine his friend's work.

"Oh, sweetheart, you look so pretty with all Luke's cum in your mouth... Doesn't she look pretty, Alvez?"

The other man muses, his hand coming down to graze my cheek. Both their hands are on either side of my face, and they're gazing down at me with such wonderment that I swear I'll do anything to feel this way again— to make them feel this way again.

"She sure does," Luke says, and I nuzzle into his hand. "Just like a proper cumdump."

Their words and their eyes and their touches send butterflies soaring through my whole body and bring an open-mouthed smile to my face.

"You can swallow now," Spencer says, tapping my cheek. I do, and immediately afterwards he leans down to kiss me deeply. I lean into him and flutter my eyes closed, the feeling of his cum dripping out of me and down my leg only adding to the blissful state I'm in.

He pulls away, and I glance over at Luke, who has his dick in his hand and an amused smile on his face. "Damn, I could almost go again..."

I can tell he only means it as a way to keep the mood light, maybe as a joke, but in hopes that it will make him more comfortable with the idea that he can quite literally use me whenever he wants to, I smile as sincerely as I can. "That's what I'm here for," I offer brightly, getting up off the couch and trying to stand on wobbling legs.

I somehow manage, Spencer helps to steady me, and then he laughs, kissing me on the cheek. "You two have fun. I'm gonna shower, and then I have to take care of some errands. That okay with you?"

Luke and I give our approval, Spencer kisses me once more, and then admires me for a few seconds before throwing his friend a wink and heading off to the shower.

The moment I'm alone with Luke Alvez, he takes my hand and gives it a kiss. "You really are something special, princess..."

The nickname, while not entirely new since Spencer had mumbled it a few times with my mouth wrapped around his dick, sounds absolutely delightful coming from Luke's lips.

"Thank you," I purr, leading him to the couch and pulling him on top of me. "But there's still so much for you to discover..."

He hums amusedly, tracing my mouth with his thumb again. This time I take it gently between my teeth before he slips his cock inside me, which inadvertently makes me let go of it in favor of a whimper.

"Well, then I guess it's a good thing I'm moving in..."

———

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[awhitehead17]

Batfam Alphabet: O - Overprotective 

Summary: Even though they blatantly deny it to everyone, deep down they do love and care for one another. This is often expressed more through their actions rather than their words, especially when it comes to looking out for one another without being asked too.

Enjoy! :D

Like the rest of his siblings, Damian’s grown to really despise galas and any sort of event his father would host or be a guest at. They had warned him early on about them and how awful they are but at first Damian didn’t believe them, after all if his father attends them then it must be important, his father wouldn’t do anything without a reason behind it. Now however, years later, he gets it. And he hates it.

As the last few years have gone by, Damian’s come to realise how fake it all was. How everyone who attended father’s parties were all suck ups as Todd calls them, they didn’t mean the words they say, they donated to charities because it makes them look good and not because they actually care. Once Damian clicked onto all of this, he learnt to hate them as the rest of the family did.

That brings him to now, where he's stood off to the side of the hall, somewhat hiding behind a pillar trying to not be seen. He watches the socialites of Gotham mingle with one another, as they share exaggerated stories and laugh rather obnoxiously.

His attention often drifts from the socialites to his family members amongst the crowd. His father pretending to be that weaker persona of his which grates on everybody’s nerves, Richard is also amongst the crowd wearing a wide smile as he talks. He doesn’t see Todd or Drake but he knows they’re around somewhere. Cain, Brown and Thomas were lucky to be patrolling that night.

Damian watches Richard for a moment, something had caught his attention and that particular something doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t know what it is exactly but there’s something off about how close one of the women surrounding Richard is getting to him.

Damian watches with an eagle eye as she lays a hand on his arm, her fingers curl around his forearm and stays there. In response Richard places one of his hands on top of hers and politely removes it from his body as he keeps up the conversation they’re having.

Even from this distance Damian could make out how uncomfortable Richard is currently feeling. His brother takes a step back away from the woman to create space between them and continues with the conversation, however the woman doesn’t seem to get the hint as she steps with him closing that gap. This time she lets out a loud obnoxious laugh and places a hand on Richard’s shoulder before sliding it down his arm.

Now, Damian doesn’t understand why people want to touch others, he doesn’t fully understand the look the woman is sending Richard’s way, but what he does know is that he doesn’t like it. His brother is uncomfortable and because of either the setting they’re currently in or because Richard is just too polite, he won’t apparently tell her to leave him alone.

Not having such courtesy, Damian decides to take the matters into his own hands. Pushing away from the wall, he moves towards Richard with a purpose and doesn’t stop until he’s standing by the man. Using his small height to advantage he pushes himself between the woman and Richard, tucking himself in close to his brother and gripping onto his blazer to get his attention.

Richard looks startled at his sudden appearance. “Damian! Is everything okay bud?”

Damian tilts his head up and gives the man the most innocent look he could muster up. Never let it said that Damian Wayne isn’t a good actor. “I need you.”

Looking concerned Richard asks, “Need me? What’s going on Little D?”

If it was any other circumstance he would snap at the man for the nickname, however right now it’s kind of working in his favour. Instead of responding Damian presses closer to Richard’s leg and buries his face into the man’s hip, making sure to appear like he’s a needy and clingy child.

It works because Richard soon bends down and scoops him up into his arms. Over his shoulder Damian hears him say, “Sorry ladies, but I’m needed somewhere else right now. It was lovely talking to you all, have a nice night.”

Then they’re walking away. Behind him Damian hears several huffs and scoffs at the interruption and Damian just about keeps his grin from showing.

Richard finds a rather secluded part of the hall and places him down onto the floor, his brother stays crouched down at his height and glances over his body, looking concerned. “Damian is everything okay. That behaviour really isn’t like you.”

Finally dropping the act, Damian falls back into his usual self. He sends Richard a pleased smile. “You looked rather uncomfortable talking to those women Grayson, I thought I would come and help relieve you from them.”

It takes a few seconds for Richard to realise what’s happened. At first confusion crosses his face followed by understanding, amusement and then a disapproval. Damian’s not bothered by the look, he knows he’s helped Richard that night and refuses to feel ashamed about it.

“Damian,” Richard starts slowly, “I appreciate you looking out for me, and yes Mrs. Case was getting uncomfortably close, but unfortunately that sort of thing happens at these kind of events. We simply have to deal with it in the most civilised manner we can without making a scene.”

Damian scowls. “We shouldn’t have too! They should understand their touches are not wanted. That woman wouldn’t have left you alone despite how uncomfortable you clearly were.”

Richard sends him a sad smile and the look adults tend to give children when they “don’t understand the situation”. “I’ve learnt to handle it Little D, you don’t need to get worked up over it, especially not because of me.”

Damian’s unsure on how to respond to that so he stays silent, of course he wants to curse out every single woman who’s dared look at Richard like that but even he knows there currently isn’t anything he can do in that moment to make things right.

Seeming to understand his thoughts his brother laughs lightly and stands up to his full height, he ruffles Damian’s hair, which he protests too, and looks down at him. “Can you handle another hour, I think that would be more than enough. Once we’re out of here you and I can go to that 24hr diner we’ve been meaning to try.”

“Very well Grayson,” Damian relents in the end, “An hour and then we shall leave.”

Richard beams at him. “Great, I’ll come find you soon okay.”

Damian watches his brother wander off into the crowd and debates on what he could do for an hour. Could there be a way for Damian to keep the attention off Richard until they leave? It’s not like he can just stay by his side for the rest of the night to get the job done, that would also mean Damian himself would have to mix with those people and he would like to avoid that if he can.

Looking around the hall Damian spots something that could help him achieve his goal. An old Bosendorfer Imperial grand piano sits tucked away in the far corner. Heading for the instrument Damian forms a plan in his mind, he knows this will draw attention to himself, he isn’t shy or conscious so that isn’t a problem, it would at least help take away some attention from Richard.

Damian gets the to piano and settles down at it, using his vast knowledge of the instrument he makes sure it’s set up right and tuned properly before settling down to start playing something classical. His time before moving in with his father hadn’t always been assassin training, he had been forced to learn other skills and qualities too. Playing a wide range of musical instruments had been one of them.

Damian plays easily, ignoring all of the eyes and attention he's gained. He plays expertly through several songs without missing a beat, dare he say he enjoys playing music, of course he’d prefer it to be in a more private setting but this will do for now.

Once he’s finished some unknown time later, he gets up and steps away from the instrument. Upon hearing an applause for his talent, Damian bows before darting off to the side. He avoids those who attempt to speak to him and immediately searches for Richard.

He finds him near the back of the hall standing next to a bored looking Todd and a mollified Drake. Damian walks over to them with his chin held up and sends them a challenging look, daring them to comment. Only Richard says something, which Damian had predicted he would, the man pulls him in for a hug and rests his head on top of his.

“That was amazing Little D! I didn’t know you could play like that, incredible!” The man gives him a squeeze before loosening the hold on him, he sends Damian a warm smile though there was now a knowing look in his eyes. “Also don’t think I didn’t know what you were attempting to do. As much as I would like to say it worked, it almost backfired because I had many people come up to me and gush about how talented you are.”

“Of course they did Grayson.” Damian says wittingly. “I was raised to be perfect, being able to play music instruments was expected.”

He receives a hum from Richard and a snort from both Todd and Drake. Not paying either of the other two any attention, Damian keeps his focus on Richard. “Can we leave now?”

Richard laughs and smiles. “Yeah lets get going. We can leave Bruce to the vultures, we’ve been here long enough.” He turns to the others, “are you both coming with?”

Both Todd and Drake send him a ‘of course, what kind of question is that?’ look before nodding.

“Alright then, lets get going.” Richard pushes Damian in front of him, guiding the way with a hand on his back while the other two trail behind them without a word. 

---- Tim and Damian ----

He doesn’t bother trying to hide how annoyed he is. Tim doesn’t care how childish he sounds whining about the unfairness of the situation he’s being forced into.

“Why can’t someone else do it?”

“Everyone else is busy and you happen to be the closest.” Came the no nonsense reply.

Tim glares at his phone from where it’s in the holder on his dashboard. “I’m busy too y’know. I have more important things to do other than picking up the demon spawn from school.”

A heavy sigh could be heard from the other side of the line. “Don’t call him that. And you’re not busy. Don’t tell me you are when we both you don’t have any plans today Tim.”

Tim throws his head back dramatically and hits the headrest with a thump. “Bruce!”

“It won’t kill you to pick Damian up from school one time Tim. Now I have to go, I’ll you see tonight.”

With a petty act of defiance Tim hangs up without another word. His day was going perfectly fine until Bruce called asking – demanding – him to pick Damian up from school. While Bruce has a point in saying he doesn’t have any plans that day and that he is currently the closet to Damian’s school, he’s actually only a few blocks away right now, that doesn’t mean Tim should do it. Damian isn’t his kid, he shouldn’t be expected to run around after the brat.

Tim sulks in his car for several moments finding the situation unfair and uncalled for. Eventually, after around ten minutes, he starts the engine up and makes his way towards Damian’s school.

When Tim finally finds a parking space among the masses of vehicles everywhere, students were flooding the street. Tim glares out of the window, eyes scanning the for the demon brat amongst the crowd. The sooner he drops Damian home, the better.

After about 10 minutes of looking and waiting Tim finally spots the kid walking out of the gate. At first he didn’t even realise it was Damian because the kid was walking and talking to someone else at the same time, it’s like they were good buddies having a genuine chat and it threw Tim off for a moment. Not to sound harsh but Tim didn’t know Damian even had any friends (other than Jon but he doesn’t count). This is a surprise.

Now he's spotted him, Tim opens the door up and climbs out of the car, leaning against the door he waves with one hand in attempts to get the kid’s attention. After a moment it works and Tim sees the various of expressions Damian wears upon spotting him. Damian firstly looks confused and then surprised which is followed quickly by an annoyed scowl showing his displeasure of having Tim pick him up today.

Tim impatiently waits for Damian to make his way over to him, the kid seeming to take his time about it all as he goes back to conversing with his friend. They share words for a few minutes before the two of them finally reach Tim and not wanting to waste any more time Tim is pretty blunt during the greeting. “C’mon Damian let’s go. I have places to be and I need to drop you off at the Manor first.”

While scowling, Damian doesn’t miss a beat in responding to him. “No need Timothy, for as today I am going with Williams here, we’ll spend the afternoon catching up with work.”

Tim narrows his eyes at the kid, a suspicious feeling already building up inside his gut. Something feels wrong about that idea. His eyes flicker over to his friend who looks decent enough, little taller than Damian, blonde hair that’s combed back, a laptop bag hanging from one shoulder. Tim focuses his attention back on his brother.

“Does Bruce know about your plans?” If Bruce knows, which Tim has a strong feeling that he doesn’t, then he’ll let it slide.

Damian bristles at the question. “Father doesn’t need to know my every movement. I am old enough to look after myself and I don’t need someone constantly watching me.”

Well there’s his answer. “Damian you should tell Bruce what you’re planning on doing, he needs to know where you are.”

“Hey, he doesn’t need to do anything.” Damian’s friend speaks up for the first time, sounding rather aggressive towards Tim. “He doesn’t need to ask for daddy’s permission for every little thing he wants to do in his life.”

Tim glares at the kid, feeling somewhat affronted with his behaviour. “He’s eleven, and despite what he thinks, his dad should know where he’s at least going and whom with.” Tim turns back to Damian. “You either tell Bruce about this or I’ll drag you back to the Manor right now myself.”

“Don’t listen to him. He’s just trying to control you because he’s older.” His friend comments with a sneer.

Tim grits his teeth and refrains from punching the kid. It really wouldn’t look good if Tim punched a kid almost half his age.

Damian looks between them for a moment and Tim sees the briefest amount of hesitation in his expression before his ominous friend pipes up again.

“Damian we can go back to mine and be away from anyone else, without any orders being demanded from us. We can get started on that art project completely undisturbed as well.”

The more this kid talks the more Tim hates him. He's come to the conclusion that he doesn’t want Damian going anywhere with him.

Damian, however, seems to have different ideas. The kid straightens up and meets Tim’s glare head on, challenging him with his own. “Goodbye Timothy. Lead the way Williams.”

Tim stares gobsmacked as the two of them walk away from him. He’s too surprised to act immediately and grab Damian’s arm to stop him from going anywhere. Looking around Tim still finds the street crowded with kids and families, unless he wants to make a scene in front of all these people Tim’s going to have to be more discrete on how he’s going to get Damian away from his new friend.

As they walk away Tim hovers by his car making sure to keep his on his brother’s retreating back through the crowd and makes a note of where he's headed. He really ought to speak to Bruce about this but Tim wants to get more information about what’s happening first. He doesn’t want to unnecessarily worry Bruce for nothing.

It doesn’t escape Tim’s notice how the two of them walk further and further away from the school and how they head towards the less populated areas of the street. It wasn’t until they get near the end of the street when Tim spots two men walking not far behind them.

Normally Tim would have looked over them as their appearance doesn’t make them stand out for any reason. They’re each wearing jeans and jackets and look like they’re casually conversing with one another, however since Tim’s already on high alert he’s zeroed in and dubbed them as suspicious immediately.

The boys take a right and disappear off the street, the men follow not long afterwards. That’s when Tim finally moves. Abandoning his car Tim moves in the direction the others went, moving at a fast paced walk in order to not raise suspicion on his part.

He makes it to the end of the street in quick time and turns right without a second thought, from here he needs to work out in what direction they all went in. Slowing down his pace Tim observes the street as he walks along it, taking in the high standing buildings, the flurry of people along the sidewalks and the vehicles bustling down the road.

What worries Tim is that he couldn’t see any of them in his sight up ahead. The street is long but yet he couldn’t see them within his sights, that could mean they’ve already either entered a vehicle, gone into a building or have already taken another turn onto a different street.

Tim continues walking down the path keeping an eye on all of his surroundings. It wasn’t until he passes two women gossiping between themselves that he gets the biggest clue to their whereabouts.

“Do you not think that seemed suspicious? The two boys and men?”

“Sharon you’re being to paranoid! Not everything is like all of those kidnapping documentaries you watch you know.”

“It doesn’t feel right with the way the men followed those boys into the alley next to the bakery.”

That’s all Tim heard of their conversation before they got too far away to hear the rest, and honestly that’s all Tim needed to hear. Once he heard the location – thank you random lady – he’s sprinting down the street no longer caring about what he looks like.  

Tim rushes to the nearest bakery and sure enough a small narrow alley could be found next to it. He almost passes it with how fast he's running but he’s able to stop himself by grabbing hold of the edge of the building and forcing his body to stop. He instantly turns around and takes off down the alleyway. It’s grubby and grimy as one would expect but not seeing the boys he runs until he reaches the other end.

Tim only slows down when he exits the alleyway and into another back alley that’s hidden away between various of buildings. Just as he’s debating on what direction to go in a yell from his left gets his attention and Tim doesn’t hesitate to run in that direction.

He comes around a corner and finds a scuffle happening. His heart drops when he finds it to be Damian struggling between the two men that had been following behind him and his friend.

A quick survey of the area shows Tim a car parked to the side with the trunk door wide open, Damian’s school friend is leaning against the car watching the scuffle with boredom and Damian himself is struggling and curses as he tries to break out of the men’s grip before they could shove him into the boot.

Tim doesn’t think about what he's doing. He launches himself at the closet man, taking him by surprise. The man lets go of Damian in order to deal with Tim but before he could so much as to raise a fist Tim is knocking him out cold with a couple quickfire punches to the stomach and head.

He drops like a sack of potatoes to the ground and Tim instantly turns to the other guy who still had Damian in his grasp. Wrenching Damian out of his grip, Tim pushes the kid behind him and quickly disposes of the man like he had done with his friend.

Once they were down Tim turns his attention to the school kid who is now staring at him like he’s a deer caught in headlights. Tim glares at him. “Get in that car and do not move.”

The kid scrambles to obey the order and once he’s inside the vehicle Tim quickly searches for the keys to the car. Finding them in the ignition Tim takes them out, shuts the doors and locks the car with the kid still inside it.

Once that was all done he finally turns his attention to Damian. The kid’s now moved and is slumped against the wall, his freighted expression making him appear the age he actually is. The look makes Tim’s heart ache. It’s so unusual to see that expression on Damian, what occurred and what almost happened has clearly shaken the kid.

Tim drops down into a crouch before his brother and makes eye contact with him. “Hey,” he says it gently but firmly to make sure he’s got his attention, “I’m going to call this in, then I’m going to call Bruce tell him what happened and then we’re going to head home alright.”

Damian doesn’t answer him but he nods. Clearly, for once, he’s happy to let Tim take the lead without any protests. Tim stands up and puts a grounding hand on Damian’s shoulder, reminding the kid he's there.

Just as Tim lifts the phone up to dial Damian mutters quietly, “thank you Timothy.”

Tim smiles tightly and squeezes his shoulder. He then sends a hard glare at the car. “I knew there was a reason why I didn’t like that kid.”

---- Jason and Tim  ----

Whistling to himself as he walks, Jason exits the vehicle bay and enters the control room of the Batcave.

He’s just come back from a short patrol, one of which consisted of errands more than anything else, such as things like checking on contacts, checking on his warehouses and restocking his armoury. Now that’s all completed his plan is to call it an early night and do absolutely nothing until the morning.

At least that had been his planned until yelling could be heard coming from across the cave. With his curiosity getting the better of him, Jason allows the noise to be his guide through the cave until he comes across those behind said yelling.

It surprises him yet doesn’t when he finds it to be Tim and Bruce. Stopping where he's stood, across from the bat computer with his helmet hanging from one hand and the other now resting in his jacket pocket, Jason watches the screaming match unfold. Getting involved now would do no one any good and Jason doesn’t want to be pulled into the mix if he can help it.

Jason had picked up on a tension between Bruce and Tim over the last week, he doesn’t know what’s going on between them or what triggered it all off but he guesses this must finally be the explosion that’s been brewing the whole time. None of the others have said anything about it so Jason figures whatever it is it’s just between the two of them, it may be a personal thing or it could be a work related thing, he’s not sure.

“I’m going!” Tim screams the sentence at Bruce like it’s a final statement. The kid then turns and begins to storm off in the direction of the vehicle bay, coincidentally right towards where Jason is standing.

Bruce’s voices bellows out after him. “Don’t you dare. If you leave the cave I’ll-”

Tim abruptly turns on the spot and glares at Bruce challengingly. “You’ll what? Ground me? Bench me for a month? You don’t control me anymore Bruce, you don’t get to say shit about what I do.”

Tim doesn’t wait for Bruce to respond as he spins on his heel and continues to head towards the vehicle bay. When he passes Jason the kid doesn’t even spare him a glance as he marches past and Jason doesn’t feel inclined to stop him.

As Tim disappears Jason turns and looks at Bruce, like Tim the man doesn’t spare him a glance, and he waits in silence for the man to comment about what just happened. The atmosphere around them is now thick and full of a tense silence and even though the anger isn’t aimed at Jason (for once) he feels suffocated by it. The silence is only broken when the echo of a motorbike engine revving happens followed by it speeding off and out of the cave.

Once the noise has faded Jason takes matters into his own hands and approaches Bruce, who is now sat at the computer, with a questioning look. “What was all that about? Why were you and Tim screaming at one another?”

There’s a long pause after he’s asked his question and it goes on long enough for Jason to think that Bruce is ignoring him. Several more beats pass by before Jason accepts he’s not getting an answer anytime soon.

Sighing he turns around and as he walks away he pointedly says over his shoulder, “I guess I’ll go and make sure the kid doesn’t do something stupid.”

When that comment still doesn’t get him a response Jason rolls his eyes. Typical Bruce. Leaving his birds all alone after an argument and allowing them to run off to do who knows what. That’s what could end up getting them killed, not that Jason would know, of course not.

Climbing on his bike Jason puts on his helmet and starts the engine up before zooming out of the cave with the plan to go after his current wayward brother.

---------

Running and jumping over rooftops Jason follows Tim from a distance. He doesn’t try to hide the fact he’s following Tim but he doesn’t make it obvious either. At the moment all it seems to be is Tim running across the city doing a normal patrol, just with a little more frustration than normal.

After an hour or so of Jason following Tim, it seems like the kid’s had enough of his shadow. Jason observes as Tim comes to a stop on a high rooftop with a clear intention of not continuing on. Not knowing what he’s doing, Jason finds a perch on a building adjacent to Tim and watches his brother carefully. It isn’t long until his comm is crackling in his ear and Tim’s voice filters through.

“Knock it off.” Tim demands venomously.

“Knock what off?” Jason questions innocently.

On the rooftop in front of him he watches as Tim slowly pivots on the spot, clearly observing his surroundings. His brother comes to a stop when he finally spots Jason on top of the nearby building.

“I don’t need a babysitter. I don’t give a shit what B has asked you to do or what he’s bribed you with to do it. Now fuck off and leave me alone.”

“No can do baby bird. You’re not at your best right now so I’m going to keep an eye on you.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not a child, I don’t need to be treated like one.”

“Your current behaviour says otherwise.”

A sarcastic laugh comes across the line. “Oh that’s rich coming from you. Fuck off Hood. Unlike you, not all of us lose our heads when angry.”

Jason narrows his eyes but lets the jab go over his head.

“Or perhaps I should lose my head? I could go on a killing a spree, that would really rile B up wouldn’t it? Or, or, I could go and find an exploding warehouse! Go get myself killed because that’s what you did didn’t you Hood? So pissed at daddy you ran off and died because of it? I’m not you, I don’t need to be looked after.”

Despite the distance currently between them the silence weighs a ton and the atmosphere feels like it’s suffocating him. Through his helmet Jason glares at Tim on the rooftop, he could feel his heart pounding inside his chest and he could feel rage building up inside of him at Tim’s words. Whether Tim meant them or not, the words stung. All of that is the past and in a completely different context to now, and also that’s not what happened, Tim knows this so Jason isn’t entirely sure why he said it.

It takes all of Jason’s willpower to not verbally lash out at Tim. He’s better than that, despite how much he wants too he doesn’t let his emotions get the better of him. Instead he takes a deep breath and continues watching Tim, not saying anything in response.

Tim must take his silence as some sort of answer because Jason watches as he turns around and runs off the roof onto the next. Giving it time Jason waits for a moment before following once again.

In the end it is a good thing he followed Tim because the kid gets himself into a situation he can’t handle alone. Jason almost jumps in immediately but he stops himself. Watching from the roof above the alleyway Tim is in, he holds back from interfering because he wants Tim to face it on his own for a moment, for Tim to face consequences of his actions of running out and patrolling while angry.

A couple minutes later Tim is almost swarmed by the thugs he’s fighting. Jason stands up getting ready to jump in when his comm comes to life.

“Hood, please.” Tim's voices filters through, he sounds out of breath and desperate. “I’m sorry, please help me.”

Jason doesn’t wait another second before jumping into the fray of things.

Within minutes the thugs are dealt with and are all left unconscious on the floor. Even after the fight, the silence from earlier lingers in the air between them, it’s awkward and uncomfortable and Jason isn’t entirely sure on how to break it. While he isn’t happy with Tim, he's not holding it against the kid. He just hopes Tim realises what he did and knows it’s wrong.

The sound of a hiss breaks Jason out of his thoughts. He turns around and finds Tim prodding at his forearm with a pained grimace on his face.

“They get you?” Jason questions with concern.

Tim looks up at him and Jason could tell he was thinking of lying about it, eventually though a defeated sigh passes through his lips and Tim hangs his head. “Yeah. A knife scratched my forearm, pretty sure I’ve pulled something in my leg too.”

Jason hums thoughtfully. After a moment of consideration he makes a decision. “Right this is what we’re going to do,” he starts and gets Tim’s attention, “we’re gonna clean this mess up and then we’re going to head to one of my safehouses nearby where I’m going to patch you up and call it a night. We’ll deal with everything else tomorrow.”

By now Tim knows better than to protest. The kid nods his head and it suddenly strikes Jason how young he looks. Jason shakes off those thoughts, not wanting to think about it. Tim’s words earlier are still floating around at the forefront of his mind and he really would rather forget all about it.

As if reading his mind Tim pipes up, his voice sounding the most timid it has been all night. “Hood I’m sorry. I was out of line for what I said earlier. I want to blame it on the anger but I did say those things with the intention of hurting you because I was angry, that still isn’t an excuse though.”

Jason stays silent, not knowing how to respond to Tim’s apology. He’s grateful he's wearing his helmet that covers his expression.

“I don’t expect forgiveness for that. I do, however, also want to say thank you for helping here when you didn’t have to, you could have quite easily left it all to me and I would have handled it but with a fair amount of struggle.”

Figuring that’s good enough for now, Jason strolls over to where Tim is standing and throws an arm around the kid’s shoulder and gives him a rough noogie. Tim squawks at the action and tries to push him away without any results. Jason laughs and after a minute finally lets him go. After that the two get down to business and finish the night off in a lighter mood than what they started it off with.

---- Dick and Jason ----

It’s a pure coincidence he even sees him. As he was heading back to his car, parked on a fairly busy street, Dick spots a familiar figure walking by on the other side of the road. Pausing in his tracks, Dick blinks and watches the figure as they continue on completely oblivious to his staring.

When the person turns their head to glance around at the surroundings, Dick gets conformation that it’s Jason of all people. He doesn’t seem to notice Dick in his observations and continues to walk to the end of the road, however instead of crossing the road like Dick had expected him too, he takes a left turn and heads into the bar that’s located on the corner there instead.

Dick curiously stares at the bar. There’s nothing special about the place that he can think of, it’s not anywhere significant and really he couldn’t think of why Jason would be visiting a place like that at this time of day. It’s late afternoon on a Tuesday, so why on earth is he going to a bar now? That's not mentioning it’s his night to patrol as well.

Then again, Dick quickly rectifies himself, it isn’t any of his business. He’s not Jason’s handler, he doesn’t have to know what he does with his time. Maybe Jason is meeting up with an old friend? For all he knows it could be Roy. Perhaps he’s on a date? Maybe he’s there on business, which is unlikely as he's currently a civilian and not Red Hood.

Whatever it is, it’s not Dick’s business, so really Dick should just go to his car like he had been doing and pretend he never saw Jason to begin with.

Dick doesn’t even make it five steps towards his car. Before he knows it he’s crossing the road and heading towards the bar because his curiosity has gotten the better of him and he needs – wants – to know what Jason is doing.

When Dick enters the bar he’s hit with the strong smell of smoke, booze and sweat. It makes him cringe but he deals with it as he walks in further. It’s a relatively big space, tables and chairs are scattered around, a few pool tables here and there and there’s plenty of customers milling about the place.

Surprisingly Dick finds his brother easily enough. Jason is sat at the bar currently being served by the middle aged bartender. Not wasting any more time Dick strolls over and casually sits down in the empty chair next to Jason.

At his sudden presence Jason jerks and turns to look at him. To begin with his expression is one of a mixture of surprise and interest but as soon as he recognises Dick a scowl paired with a glare is firmly put in place.

Dick flashes his brother a grin that is too big to be real and with fake cheerfulness he greets him, “Hey Jay, fancy seeing you here!”

Jason glares at him for several long moments, his eyes narrow threateningly and his lips press into a thin line. Dick laughs to himself, he wonders how much Jason is cursing his existence right now? Eventually Jason turns away from him, facing forwards once again, and grabs his drink to bring it up to his lips. “Fuck off dickhead.” He swears before taking a sip.

“I dunno, you seem pretty lonely here, how ‘bout I keep you company?” Dick says, he is of course fishing for information just without saying it. He wants to know what his brother is up to.

Placing his drink back down on the bar Jason gives him the stink eye. “Well it’s a good thing I won’t be alone for much longer, I’m meeting someone in a minute so if you would ever be so kind and fuck off that would be great. Thanks.”

“Who you meeting?”

“Someone.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Well that’s the one you’re getting. Now go away.”

“Is it a special someone?” Dick asks with a suggestive smirk.

Jason continues to glares at him. “No.”

Dick hums in acknowledgement. “Okay. How about I wait here until they arrive?”

“Absolutely not.” Jason snaps. He takes a deep breath and lets it out as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “They won’t speak to me if you’re here. Now piss off.”

At his brother’s dark look, Dick decides to finally relent. Despite his teasing and his want for answers, he knows when enough is enough. “Okay….” Dick drawls out standing up, “if you need any help with anything give me a call.”

“I won’t,” Jason retorts back instantly, though not as harsh as he previously has been, “if I see you around here I will shoot you.”

As he walks away from Jason he throws, “Love you too brother,” over his shoulder and exits the bar.

After that Dick heads back to his car and this time makes it inside the vehicle, however that’s as far as he gets. Once he’s there his mind starts reeling about Jason and the worry creeps in. Who is Jason meeting? Why is he meeting them?

Dick is well aware that Jason is a full grown man who can look after himself but he can’t help but worry about him. He didn’t do the greatest job of being a brother to him when they were younger, if he could go back in time he would change that but unfortunately he can’t, what he can do though is try and be there for him now.

Instead of starting the car up Dick decides to do a mini stake-out there in the street. He’ll wait to see Jason leave the bar safe and sound before going home. He’s parked on the street but there are plenty of other vehicles around to help hide him, also people in Gotham don’t ask questions to things that aren’t their business so Dick knows he’s not going to be bothered any time soon.

It’s a few hours later when Jason emerges from the bar again. Dick straightens up in his seat, places his phone down and watches from his car as Jason begins making his way down the street.

His brother seems to be in a foul mood. As well as the scowl he's wearing, Dick could tell by his body language, his shoulders were held back tightly, his hands were clenched into fists at his sides and his strides were long, quick and meaningful.

Movement behind Jason gets his attention. Following closely behind his brother was a man, maybe around his thirties, dressed in a V-neck t-shirt paired with a blazer and fitted trousers. Dick observes them as they make their way down the street, he could see their mouths moving but Dick was too far away to make out anything they were saying.

Jason is clearly done with the guy (Dick assumes this is who Jason met with) as he’s trying to get away from him and probably shouting profanities at him as he storms down the street. Dick is left wondering what to do, does he go after Jason to help him get away or does he allow Jason to handle it himself. He trusts Jason of course but there’s something about this other guy that’s putting him on edge and Dick doesn’t like it.

Jason soon disappears around a corner and into an alley between the buildings, Dick watches him disappear and then as the stranger follows behind his brother. Definitely not liking the fact he can’t see them anymore, Dick makes the decision to finally follow them, screw what Jason says, he needs to know his brother is fine.

As he approaches the alley, sounds coming from within grow in volume. There’s a mixture of grunts, bangs and cursing going on. Dick didn’t know what to expect when he reached the corner but when he peeks around the wall it’s too find Jason in the middle of a fist fight with three other guys.

Dick stares for a moment, captivated by the way his brother holds his ground. He notices how there’s a difference between the way Jason fights as the Red Hood and then as Jason Todd. As his vigilante persona Jason fights with precision (and guns) and well trained skills, however as Jason Todd his technique is scrappier and more street like.

Jason beats one of the guys down to the ground, where he then stays unmoving, before the other two descend upon him, they force him back into the wall of the alley way and start beating the daylights out of him.

Seeing Jason receive punch after punch and not throw any back in return, Dick finally decides to step in. He charges down the alley, using the element of surprise to tackle one of the men away from Jason. They crash to the ground, rolling a few times before it ends up with Dick on top. Not giving the man a chance to react he delivers a couple quick punches and a precise nerve strike to knock him out.

When he’s done he spins around just in time to witness Jason delivering one last blow to the other guy, he man stumbles for a moment before collapsing in a heap on the ground. Silence falls upon them and Dick takes a moment to survey the scene around them, three unconscious men on the floor, one of which being the guy who originally followed Jason and who was the first to be knocked out. Then there’s the two of them still in their civvies and Jason is leaning heavily against the wall breathing deeply.

Without a word Dick straightens up and makes his way over to his brother, ignoring the heated glare being sent his way Dick moves one of Jason’s arms around his shoulders and presses in close to him so he can take his weight. Once situated Dick leads them away from the wall and out of the alley.

“I didn’t need your help.” Jason mumbles a few steps later.

Dick snorts. “I knew there was something going on from the start.”

“So you stayed hovering around like a stalker? I thought that was Tim’s job.”

“I stayed because I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Jason makes a grumbling noise but otherwise doesn’t say anything. Dick shoots him a surprised look because he was honestly expecting more of a backlash from his brother, perhaps he's too tired to fight against him right now.

When they get to the car, Dick helps him climb inside before getting into the vehicle himself. As much as he would like to question Jason further about what just occurred, he doesn’t, he stays silent and starts up the engine. As Dick drives them, he’s heading towards his own safehouse, Jason is on his phone bedside him clearly wrapping up whatever business that was all about.

[mrsbrekkers]

How bout a kaz brekker x blind!reader? 💓

okay so i have never written blind!reader before but but but BUTTT a good idea came to me involving reader being a grisha ( healer ) who had the gift to see someone and what they truly look like if they are physically allowed to be let in? it’s hard to explain, but y a

in this, reader and kaz have known one another for a good three in a half years, they work on heists together, and reader is usually partnered with kaz, as he wants to keep her safe. i S U C K at summaries. also, i was hella distracted while writing this, but it came out somewhat okay? f u c k.

pairings! kax x blind!reader

reader in this is female, but i will adjust accordingly if you’d like me too! just let me know! :)

warnings! really distracted writing, jordie, ptsd, blood, the typical soc stuff, kaz almost having a panic attack, but also him realizing he’s safe there with reader ye. 

i could so make this a series? like going through all the times blind!reader has made kaz come to trust her more and more. haha ha unless...

word count! 2847

ONE SHOT UNDER CUT

GLOVED INTERACTIONS

There were many descriptions given to Y/N about what Kaz Brekker looked like. What color his eyes were. What color his hair was. What his build was like. She could give you an accurate description of Jesper, Inej, Nina, Matthias, even Wylan was easy. But when it came to someone she couldn’t physically map out? She became a bit lost.

Being born without her sight, Y/N had to learn other ways to understand the world. Especially in a place like Ketterdam. Maybe that was why Kaz was quick to take Y/N under his wing. To keep her safe, just as he had with Wylan. But, Y/N wasn’t useless. Being a Healer, she was valuable to the Dregs. Nina was a powerful heartrender, but could only do so much when someone was inevitably hurt during jobs. That’s where Y/N was useful.

In a sense she had her sight, but it relied on physically being able to touch someone. A side-effect of being a Grisha, with abilities that no one has seen before. Her sight may have been gone, but being able to see one in her mind, whether it be blurry or clear, gave her an idea on what one looked like.

That meant Kaz was the most mysterious person to Y/N.

Y/N could describe most of the crows relatively well. Jesper had been the first to let Y/N use her ‘gift’ as Nina called it, with him. Her hands rested on his arms, slowly moving up to his shoulders, the other crows sitting around them to watch.

“You’re Zemeni, but I knew that already. Inej described you as long limbed, she wasn’t wrong.” Inej laughed a bit, shaking her head. “Lean, no surprise, I could make that out. Your eyes are a dark grey, but beautiful. I must say Jesper, you’re rather handsome. Being a handsome decoy seems like it should be a Jesper talent.”

Jesper smiled, looking down at Y/N. “Right on, almost to the dot,” he said, giving his best friend a chuckle.

“Your smile lights up a room. But I also knew that already,” Y/N added, tilting her head as she let her hands drop from Jesper’s shoulders. The crows around them were in awe, and then Nina was moving Jesper out of the way.

“Move handsome decoy, my turn,” She said, humming a bit as she sat in front of Y/N, making the Healer laugh. As she had with Jesper, Y/N ran her hands up Nina’s arms, stopping at her shoulders.

“Hmm, long curly brown hair, your heart beats a bit differently than the rest of our friends. Courtesy of being Grisha, and a Heartrender. You’re also a bit curvier than our friends, but as am I.” Nina smiled, glancing at their friends, who all seemed confused on how Y/N managed to do this.

“Green eyes, piercing almost. As always, like the rest of our friends, your smile lights up the room. But instead of Jesper’s toothy smile, you’re a closed mouth smiler, unless talking to Matthias of course,” Y/N smirked a bit, feeling Nina’s body heat up told her that the Heartrender was indeed, blushing.

Then slowly, all of the crows sat in front of Y/N. Except for Kaz, which Y/N understood. She didn’t pry, but she did begin to wonder what he truly looked like. There were so many conflicting descriptions. Obviously the ones given from people who didn’t like him weren’t taken into account, because most of them consisted of calling Kaz ‘The Grinch’. And while this was probably a good term for his lovely personality, it didn’t seem like it’d match his looks. Kaz wasn’t green after all.

But after a particularly rough job, one that ended with almost everyone scuffed up in some way, shape, or form, Y/N was working herself to the bone. Inej had the worst of it, so Y/N worked on her first at the Slat, and upon finishing, she had Nina sit next to the sleeping Wraith. She stood, huffing as she climbed the stairs to Kaz’s room. He was always the least willing to be healed. He always claimed he was the least beat up, or he could handle it himself.

This time, Y/N knew he wasn’t the least beat up. She’d heard about the gash running up his arm, and the scratches lining his face, which were less than pretty. Entering the room, she crossed her arms.

“I’m fine,” Kaz spoke first, earning a scoff from Y/N.

“I’ve heard plenty from Jesper about how nasty the gash on your arm is, and how your leg has been worse than usual. I can’t heal a bone that’s healed incorrectly, but I can ease the pain,” Y/N stated, moving to stand in front of the desk. Why was Kaz so damned stubborn about things like this? It concerned the Healer. Did he find himself so unlovable that he believed he deserved the pain when he was hurt?

“How are you going to count your Kruge if your arm is cut wide open?” Y/N asked, tilting her head. That made Kaz sigh. She wasn’t wrong about that. It also meant problems during other aspects of his job.

“Fine,” Kaz said reluctantly. He watched Y/N round the table, his eyes mainly on her fingers that softly glided the desk, letting her know when to turn. He’d always found it fascinating how she managed so much without her sight. Mainly how she found her ways around. The way her fingers would move so smoothly across surfaces. Or how graceful she seemed. It was hard to fascinate Kaz Brekker, but she did it effortlessly.

“I won’t touch you, but I’m going to need to be guided to where the gash is,” Y/N spoke, now standing in front of Kaz, who gulped with a shaky nod. He trusted her. He trusted all of his Crows, but her the most. She’d been there when the Crows were down bad. She brought smiles to the team without fail. Kaz could remember the first time they’d met, when his fascianation had started.

The night had been cold, dark. As Ketterdam usually was. After a few months of Kaz having Inej watch over the Healer that lived near the university district, Inej had come to Kaz with news that the Healer, Y/N, had noticed her. It had rendered the Bastard of the Barrel speechless. Someone had noticed Inej Ghafa?

“How did she notice you? Nobody notices you. Even I didn't for the first time, and I notice everyone,” Kaz stated, his tone confused.

“I believe our Healer is blind. It would make sense then, all of her other senses would be on high alert, especially her hearing. Even the most silent aren’t silent to the blind. They notice everything, Kaz. I’m surprised she didn’t notice me earlier,” Inej said, her arms crossed as she leaned in the doorway between the bedroom and the small office.

Kaz stalled for a moment, humming in consideration. It would explain how Inej had been found out. What that didn’t answer was whether Y/N knew who they were. He doubted it, but you could never be sure in Ketterdam.

“Did she know who you were?”

“I’m not sure, I left before things escalated. She said she knew I was there and to reveal who I was and who I worked for. So she knows I’m not some random in Ketterdam. I’m sure she could figure out enough if I’d appeared before her,” Inej said before looking back at the window. She knew she wasn’t followed, she always checked for such. But with the revelation that someone, for once, had noticed her, it wasn’t unlikely that maybe she’d been followed.

Kaz huffed, realizing he’d have to now go and explain to this Healer about how he’d been watching over her for the past few months. He wasn’t even sure why he’d been doing so. Well, he did, she’d be a good asset to have later if he ever decided to actually let it be known that he’d been keeping her safe. It was time that’d present a new reason.

Arriving at the small apartment that the Healer lived in, Kaz knocked Inej behind him, and when the door opened, his dark eyes landed on Y/N.

“I was waiting for you guys to show up,” Y/N said, turning and allowing the two inside.

“You knew we’d come?” Inej asked, entering the small apartment and sitting where Y/N offered, taking the small cup of tea she was handed. For being stalked for the past few months, the Healer was being rather kind.

“I suspected it was The Wraith watching over me for some time. I have learned to feel different presence’ around me. Yours, while I didn’t notice it at first, I began to when one of my papers went missing and was replaced with a forged one,” Y/N said, sitting next to Inej.

“How did you know it was forged?” Kaz asked, raising an eyebrow. Not that Y/N could see that, but his tone, his voice did the accenting for him.

“Kaz Brekker I presume. The handwriting wasn’t my own. I don’t have terrible handwriting, I’ve practiced for years after all, but my handwriting is not that nice. And the paper wasn’t the kind of paper I used. It was a close second, yes, but the letters weren’t able to be felt. That’s when I realized it was forged. It was a good forgery, but I’ve lived in Ketterdam long enough.” That’s when Kaz’s fascination started.

Or maybe it was when Inej had announced someone had noticed her. Nonetheless, that was the day he decided to recruit Y/N officially. It wasn’t hard either, considering she was rather willing too as long as she wasn’t indentured to the Dregs.

“I won’t go with if I’m going to be paying you back for the rest of my life,” Y/N stated, sipping her tea. Oh, and she had to bring her cat. Jesper now called the cat the Crows mascot. Which, the other’s had found weird. It was a cat, not a Crow, but they had changed the name of the cat to Crow. Which made the rest of the gang agree on it. Even Kaz found the cat enjoyable.

That was three years ago.

Since then, Y/N hadn’t let Kaz down once. He’d grown to trust her as he did Inej, even more so as she became his shadow. The person in his corner, his partner. He trusted his shadow.

Sighing, Kaz shook his head, looking over at Y/N and glancing down to her hands. “Left arm, right above my elbow,” he said, watching her fingers flex before moving to hover over the gash that covered a good part of Kaz’s upper arm.

“You know, I still don’t know what you look like,” Y/N said as she healed to gash slowly, making sure the work was intricate and done correctly.

“Brooding, dark, nothing else really to me,” Kaz said, but Y/N shook her head, finishing the gash and humming a bit. She moved her hand slowly up to Kaz’s face, doing a quick brush over to heal the small gashes there. Kaz felt them heal, his labored breath steadying as she moved her hand away from his face.

“I don’t believe that. If there was nothing more to you, I wouldn’t be staying around, Kaz,” Y/N said, bending down, but she felt a gloved hand grip her wrist, surprising her and causing her to jump a bit.

“I can handle that pain, I have for years,” Kaz stated, watching Y/N nod, and while she couldn’t see his hand, her eyes were still on the wrist that was enclosed by Kaz’s gloved hand.

“I may have an idea. A way for me to know what you truly look like,” Y/N said, a smile rising to her lips.

Kaz was almost frightened to ask. No, he was frightened. He knew what that would entail. But he knew what she looked like and she had so many conflicting ideas about what he looked like. He also knew that Y/N wouldn’t cross his boundaries unless he gave explicit permission. He could say no to this and she’d agree and leave with a smile, some words of encouragement to sleep and rest, and later have Inej or Jesper bring up food for him. But sucking in a deep breath, he looked up at Y/N, determining that he trusted her enough for this. She’d never hurt you. 

“Okay, tell me the idea,” Kaz said slowly, his words wavering.

“You can back out at any time, Kaz. If you don’t want to do this, you let me know immediately,” Y/N stated, and Kaz let out a small cough. 

He closed his eyes, nodding to himself before giving an audible, “I know.”

“Your gloves, their the barrier that helps ensure you don’t come into contact with skin. What if I wear a pair, they don’t have to be yours, but a pair of gloves and use them to learn what you look like?”

Kaz tilted his head. It wasn’t a terrible idea. It actually made a lot of sense. He used the gloves as a barrier, as Y/N had said. If she did the same, it would be the same as he had just done with her wrist. He wouldn’t feel Jordie. He wouldn’t feel Reaper’s Barge. At least, that’s what he hoped for. But he’d be willing to try for Y/N. He’d try for her.

“We . . . can try that, but use my gloves. I’m used to the feeling of them. I have another pair in the nightstand by my bed,” Kaz said, watching Y/N smile a bit before moving to grab the gloves in the nightstand. He watched her slide them onto her fingers, seeing they were just a bit big on her, he chuckled quietly.

Y/N let her fingers glide against the desk once more, pulling the chair from the other side of the desk right in front of Kaz. She could hear his uneven breathing as she sat too. “You guide me, just like before,” Y/N said, letting Kaz have control of the situation. 

Slowly, Kaz lifted his hand, taking Y/N’s gloved one into his own. Stalling for a moment he shut his eyes tightly, and for a moment the flashes came to him, but he sucked in a deep breath, opening his eyes and seeing Y/N in front of him, alive, breathing.

He lifted her hands to rest on his shoulders, watching her hum as the vision of him began to form within her mind. He watched a smile come to her lips. She would never know how beautiful that smile was. How beautiful it was to him. How he hoped it wasn’t washed away like his was because of the Barrel.

“Hmm, Dark hair, trimmed at the edges. Inej teased you for it one day, I remember that. You have a sharper face than most of our friends, and a lean build, but more muscular than Jesper is.” Y/N tilted her head, the image in her head finally fully forming.

“Dark eyes, like bitter coffee. Two tattoos. I didn’t know that. I must say, but don’t Jesper this, you’re far more handsome than he is. Maybe you should start being the handsome decoy.” Kaz chuckled at that, and for a few moments he wasn’t shaking. He wasn’t fearful. He wasn’t breathing heavily. He was happy, even if just for those few moments. Happy because of her.

Y/N dropped her hands, pulling off the leather gloves and placing them on the desk. “Certainly not the grinch as some put it,” she added, standing.

“Pretty close to that,” Kaz said, watching her stand.

“Maybe personality wise, but certainly not look wise.”

“Who calls me the Grinch?” 

“Jesper,” Y/N laughed. She remembered hearing Jesper reference Kaz as the grinch at one point. It was where the nickname had probably originated from for others to call the Bastard of the Barrel, and slowly it became known. The room became quiet for some time, and Y/N was the first to break it.

“Thank you . . . for letting me do that, I know it wasn’t easy. The tattoos, what are they of?” Y/N asked then, tilting her head. Kaz took a deep breath in, looking over at the window across by his bed. The one he rarely ever used.

“The Dregs Crow, and an R,” he didn’t elaborate, leaving Y/N to know that was as much as he’d say. She knew what the Crow was for, but she had a feeling she shouldn’t ask much more than that.

“Well, do get some rest. I can’t heal sleep exhaustion, sadly,” Y/N said, laughing a bit. She didn’t see it, but a smile spread on Kaz’s lips.

[helpistolethesecharacters]

I'll Be Your Romeo If You'll Be My Juliet

Lucius Malfoy x Male Reader

Word Count: 1911

This was a request from an anon for a Lucius x male reader.

I hope this is everything you wanted from your request anon, if it isn't, feel free to send me another request!

---------

It was time for the annual Yule gathering. The Black family had the honor of hosting it this year, and they had taken every opportunity to remind everyone of that fact.

The heirs, the ones that mattered anyway, had been almost insufferable on the lead up to the yule break.

Lucius had mixed feelings on the whole subject, not that he could let that show to anyone.

Luckily, it looked like his betrothed was of a similar mind. The lovely Andromeda Black had been as quiet as he had been lately. If they had had even the smallest bit of interest in each other, they might have brought their concerns up.

Lucius thought fleetingly of a world where they could be in love. They would spirit themselves away to an abandoned classroom where they could talk uninterrupted about all of the things that were bothering them. They would take comfort in not being alone. It would bring them closer together and they could fall in love all over again.

But reality was a cruel mistress, and rarely allowed for such flights of fancy.

As it was, Lucius and Andromeda were just two teens who had been promised to each other from before they had even been born. There was nothing more between them.

Lucius sighed silently as he exited the floo into the receiving room at the Black Manor.

He barely registered an elf banishing the soot from his dress robes as he moved out of the room.

"Heir Malfoy, a pleasure to have you in our humble home this evening. And of course you as well Lord and Lady Malfoy!"

Lucius nodded at the welcome and stood obediently by his parents' side as he waited for the greetings to end. Sometimes he tired of all the stiff pureblood airs and graces.

After the obligatory back handed compliments they moved off into the party proper. With a last terse command to not embarrass the family name, courtesy of his father, Lucius moved away to see if he could find someone a little closer to his age.

He absently took a glass of sparkling cider from one of the floating trays that dotted the ballroom. The Blacks really had outdone themselves this year. The room was done in shades of white, sliver and blue. It really was stunning, but nothing seemed to be able to knock Lucius out of the numbness he had slipped into.

It had started at the start of that school year with the arrival of a transfer student. The other boy was their age, and the most enchanting creature that Lucius had ever laid eyes on. He had watched his sorting with longing, but the dratted hat had put Y/n into Ravenclaw. It wasn't really the end of the world, Lucius shuddered to think if he had been put into Gryffindor, or worse, Hufflepuff. Unfortunately, Lucius was already betrothed, but even if he wasn't, Abraxas Malfoy would never allow him to sully the Malfoy name with a male partner.

So Lucius had had to swallow his feelings as best he could. It hadn't worked very well, so he had allowed himself to pine from afar just a little.

He was jolted out of his daydream by the object of his thoughts. Lucius inhaled his mouthful of cider at the sight of Y/n.

He looked amazing in his dress robes, dressed up all fancy for the ball. Lucius thought to himself that if this was the cause of his death it would be worth it.

He was aware, once he managed to stop choking, of three things. One, everyone was looking at him, two, his face was probably red enough to shame a Weasley's hair, and lastly, that Y/n had the brightest e/c eyes possible.

He was struck with the awful thought that this was probably the first time that Y/n had known that Lucius existed.

'Well, that was a fantastic first impression,' Lucius thought to himself. He pointedly looked everyone who would meet his gaze straight in the eyes. As he had thought, it was enough to discomfort them into looking away.

Lucius raised his chin and moved off into a different area of the ballroom.

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

Ever since Y/n had realised that Lucius Malfoy was at the party as well, he had been jittery. The other boy was always looking at him. He had been the cause of enough distraction before this, when he was just someone who lurked at the fringes of his awareness while he studied in the school library. Now, Y/n was sure that he would never be getting rid of the image of Lucius in dress robes. How was he ever going to be able to concentrate again?

He shook himself slightly and tried to focus back in on whatever it was that the Greengrass heiress was talking about. He was supposed to be making connections here, maybe paving the way for a betrothal contract. As the first Pendragon to be seen in this and the previous generation, there was a lot of pressure to make the right political connections. A marriage to someone who was already politically powerful in this community would go a long way toward putting them back on the map in this magical community.

It was the Gods eternal joke that he was the only one that could do this. He only had one other relative, and his uncle wasn't exactly all there anymore. His parents had made it clear that this was their only chance to become the powerful family that they had once been.

Sure, potions had made it possible to have a male pregnancy, but it was still looked down on pretty harshly by most purebloods. Y/n had no idea how he was supposed to get his family back to its former glory, when to do it he would have to marry a girl. Why did he have to be gay?

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

Lucius was slowly going out of his mind. He had moved around the party doing his best to ignore Y/n, but he couldn't get him out of his head. The other boy was still standing where he had first spotted him, entirely surrounded by everyone their age.

What was worse was that these were people Lucius had grown up with. He had known these people for his whole life, and it was this that allowed him to see what was happening.

They were all flirting with Y/n.

Lucius was almost certain that some of them, most notably his friends, were only doing it to irritate him and not because they were genuinely interested in Y/n.

He had been shooting furtive looks over at the group for the last half an hour, and still they kept it up. Lucius just didn't know what to do. Oh sure, he knew what he wanted to do, but he also knew that there was no way he could actually pull it off.

For one thing, if he showed his hand by going over there and making a fool of himself he would face serious consequences when he got home. He was sure he would already be in trouble for his incident earlier that night, but if his father heard even a hint of a whisper that his only heir was gay, well, Lucius wasn't sure he would survive that particular punishment.

He was pulled up short at the realisation of where he was. He was in a room with some of the biggest gossips in the magical world, all of which could just about smell weakness. He shot his eyes around the room and realised with a start that it was already too late.

He recognised the look in his fathers eyes when he met them. Someone must have said something about his preoccupation with his classmate to Abraxas. Lucius swallowed, noting his suddenly dry throat.

He looked away from his father, toward Y/n and his friends. There might be a way to salvage this, pretend to have been watching another of his friends. He would still be in trouble for lusting after someone who was not his betrothed, but much less than if it had been the very male Y/n.

There was a commotion over by one of the doors, but Lucius was too busy thinking. He was realising that he was done. He couldn't live like this anymore, and he was done pretending that he could.

He squared his shoulders and moved over to his friends.

"Excuse me, may I borrow Y/n for a moment. We won't be long."

He didn't even bother waiting for a response, just grabbed a hold of him and started off in a random direction. The only thing in his mind was getting as far away from other people so he could have this discussion in peace.

He pulled Y/n out of the ballroom and down hallway after hallway until he decided they were lost enough that only a house elf would be able to find them.

He turned back to the other boy after making sure that the area was empty. They were both panting a little after their impromptu jog.

Y/n was looking at Lucius cautiously.

Lucius surged forward and connected their lips.

They were gasping for breath again when he pulled back.

"You know we can't do this."

Lucius cut him off before he could continue.

"I'm done. I'm done being the perfect heir for parents that don't care to know the real me. I'm done pretending that I'm not head over heels for you. Most of all, I'm done holding back from the things I want just because society wants so badly to tell me no."

He pulled in a deep breath, still standing in Y/n personal space. Neither boy had moved back.

"I want you, Y/n, and I think you've known that for as long as I have. If I haven't missed my guess, you want me too. I'm certainly not alone in all the looks I've sent your way, and I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't at least find out if you could feel the same way as I do for you."

Y/n sighed and shifted back a step.

"Those are pretty words Lucius, easy to say them here, alone in a secluded corner of someone else's manor, but how will you feel walking into Hogwarts next week, and letting everyone see. How will you feel when your parents cut you off?"

"I'm not totally helpless Y/n, I'll find a way to survive. I know for sure that if I have you by my side there isn't anything that we can't face."

He softly took Y/n's hand and stroked the back with his thumb.

"So what do you say? Can you feel the same way I do?"

Y/n shut his eyes in resignation.

"You know I do."

They stood at the end of their silent hallway for some time, just holding each other.

"You know this will be the second scandal of the night?"

Lucius pulled back to look at Y/n.

"What do you mean?"

Y/n looked at Lucius, shocked.

"What do you mean, what do I mean? Didn't you hear, just before you pulled me out of there, one of the older Blacks ran in and caused quite the scene. By the looks of things Andromeda is missing. From what I managed to gather, she's run off with that muggleborn from Ravenclaw, you know, Tonks-something, or something-Tonks."

[rainbowsky]

I think you are the one that proved me right by not posting the ask. Why are so afraid of everything I said it’s true. Why do you protect yibo fandom so much this what made me distance myself from bjyx even tho I used to love it. Yibo fans in twitter Can attack bjyx and have hundreds of rts but no bxg interfieres But when is a xz fan they get ratioed. Are bxg scared or yibo fans ? I never got it. Why are yibo fans so free to attack xz and bjyx and no one says anything. And if someone dares to you get mad smh

This is in reference to a previous post.

You must be new here, Anon. Otherwise you would know that I make it a policy not to post anti bullshit and lies on my blog.

Here's the thing - no matter how toxic and awful other fans are, those people stay in their own lane while many toxic XFX do not.

What do I mean by 'stay in your own lane'? Interact peacefully, and if you can't interact peacefully, stay out of BXG spaces. Stop posting in BXG hashtags. Stop posting harassing comments on BXG posts. Stop brigading BXG with harassing messages. Stop threatening to doxx and make BXG lives miserable.

I do not know a single BXG who is 'scared of DD's solos'. The idea is laughable. For the most part, they are easy to ignore and avoid. Yes, many of them are toxic and awful, but they keep those comments and that hate in their own spaces rather than push it out to BXG spaces. There are relatively few who try to cross over into our spaces to harass us.

By contrast, every single BXG I know is wary of toxic XFX because we've all experienced harassment from toxic XFX. We've all seen toxic XFX brigading BXG comment sections and filling our hashtags with hateful messages. Just go on Twitter or YouTube and see for yourself. I defy you to browse #yizhan or #bjyx and not find several toxic XFX posting anti-BXG hate under those hashtags.

I know you don't want that to be true. I don't want it to be true any more than you do. I want GG's fans to be respectful of his wishes and supportive of the guidance that he has given us. I want his fans to be kind like him. I want his fans to represent him in a positive light. More than anyone, including DD, GG deserves that after everything he's been through.

Here's where the problem lies, I think, for toxic XFX. You think people should be arguing online. You think attacking people is your duty, and the duty of every other fan, regardless of which camp they are in. You said as much in your message above. "Yibo fans in Twitter can attack and no BXG interferes."

You think it's our duty to defend and fight. It's not. Actually, it's our duty to stay out of fights. It's our duty to live and let live. GG himself has instructed us on this.

MTJJ are free to say whatever hateful shit they want within their own hashtags and spaces. So are XFX. Stay in your own lane.

When you cross over into our spaces to bully and harass us, we're going to notice. We are going to be upset. Hopefully we all block, ignore and report when appropriate rather than engage in arguments and fan wars, but we aren't stupid. We know who is invading our spaces with hate. Your reputation in this regard is earned.

I browsed through my Twitter block list the other day out of curiosity, and that says it all. Of 50-60 blocked accounts:

3 or 4 toxic BXG

5 or 6 toxic MTJJ

A few spam accounts

All of the rest are toxic XFX

Do those numbers represent the percentage of those fan groups that are toxic? Hell no. They only represent the percentage of toxic fans who cross over into BXG spaces. I don't bother blocking every toxic fan, because I don't need to. If they are staying in their own lane, I'll almost never encounter their hateful BS.

As I have said, every fan group, including BXG, are capable of being hateful and toxic. What makes it a problem is when that toxicity is exported to other fan spaces.

If you want to hate BXG, shit all over CP fans and gossip about how deluded and awful we are, I won't stop you. Feel free to say whatever you want about us, just have the courtesy to do so amongst yourselves rather than cross over into our spaces to harass us.

The problem isn't that you're toxic, the problem is that you are aggressive and harassing in our spaces.

If you want to prove me wrong, then be kind or at least peaceful. If you want to prove me wrong, then stop attacking us in our own spaces and stay in your own lane. If you want to prove me wrong, find positive ways to support GG rather than warring and harassing others. If you want to prove me wrong, follow GG's instructions. Here they are, in case you've forgotten:

Everyone has the right to like and hate. No matter if you like or hate, it should be respected and allowed in their own spaces.

This right should be based on rationality and not hurting other people. No matter what field or age, your personal likes and actions should not cross the line or go against that field's ethics or morals.

No matter if it's on the internet or real life, everyone should be responsible for their own actions.

Even more, none of us should be represented by the label "XXX's fan."

Live a positive and healthy life.

Place more energy on your real life; less on the internet, the fighting, arguing and clashes behind a virtual ID, more on hard work and striving in real life.

We are against rebuking each other, we are against inciting conflict, against under-aged youths irrational consumer behavior and against any attempt to hurt others for whatever reason.

All the love should be positive and productive, hope that everyone can chase after their idols within reason.

Think calmly and don’t be disturbed by provocateurs and external factors that lead to war.

Avoid being provoked and used by others.

GG is not a child who needs protection.

These are all his own words and the words from statements released by his studio.

I myself preach the same thing to BXG all the time. Stay in your own lane. Don't engage in fan wars. Block and ignore, block and ignore, block and ignore. If everyone minds their own business, we could all peacefully co-exist. That's all any of us really wants.

And just to make it abundantly clear: I am talking about toxic XFX here, not ALL XFX. The vast majority of XFX are not like this. The vast majority keep to themselves and focus on supporting GG and doing good works in his name. I am talking here, about the toxic people who seem to think it's their solemn duty to harass and plague BXG in our own spaces.

If you aren't a toxic XFX, then awesome, we'll get along just fine by staying in our own lanes. If you are a toxic XFX, then I hope you'll do some reflection and soul-searching and realize what you are doing is disruptive and combative, harms GG, and goes against his oft-stated wishes.

And at the very least, I hope you will keep to your own spaces as GG specifically asked people to do in the statement he made on the anniversary of 22*7. I mean, anyone who can blithely ignore the wishes he stated on that day of all days - that is a special, industrial grade brand of shocking and appalling. How could such a person really say they love him and have his best interests at heart?

[enthusiasticharry]

Second Best

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

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

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

masterlist   |    speak to me about second best here!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You shouldn’t joke about that.”

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

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

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

“Don’t you dare say paintings!”

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

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

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

“If you say so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry.” He smiles, “M’names Harry.”

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

“You must be—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, “I love to.”

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

“It’s not beautiful though.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please. Call me Lizzie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is there something wrong?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Europe?” He asks, “You want to go?” 

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

“Can you not do that here?” 

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

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

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

“I don’t think I understand.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why don’t you leave then?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then I will teach you.” He says. 

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

“Deal.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m letting go of you.” 

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

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

“You’re not going to fall.” 

“I am.” 

“You’re not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I might.” 

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

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

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

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

“You don’t talk about you mother.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You do have you.” 

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

“You respected that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What have you done now?” 

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

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

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

“Thank you for bringing her home, Harry.” 

“It’s no problem.” 

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” 

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

“Pass my love onto your father.” 

“I will.” 

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

“What is it?” 

“Does he know?” 

“Does he know what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“His name is Theodore.” 

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

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

“Are you alright?” 

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

“You too, Harry.” 

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

“To Theodore.” 

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

“But you want to be.” 

“What makes you think that?” 

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

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

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

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

“I thought you were in love with Harry.” 

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

“He loves you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How have you ended up?” 

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

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

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

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

“Please.” He says, “Come in.” 

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

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

“Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You asked?” 

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

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

“See what?” 

“The ring.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not your fault.” 

“She’s my sister.” 

“You’re not in charge of her.” 

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

“Did she ever love me?” 

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

“That doesn’t make it any easier.”

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

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

“Whatever you need, H.” You say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You aren’t second best, YN!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not sulking.” 

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

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

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

“There’s nothing to tell.”

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

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

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

“What does that mean?” 

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

“Who told you that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Four Years Later

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

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

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

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

Pierre was the person who had helped you do that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What time should I be ready?” 

“I’ll pick you up at eleven.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I look exhausted.” 

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

“I’m. . .” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You haven’t.” 

“You haven’t, either.” He smiles.

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

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

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

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

“I could.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?” 

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

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

“Do you want to marry him?” 

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

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

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

“I do.” You say, quickly. 

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

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

“Then why are you marrying him.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tomorrow?” 

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

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

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

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

“I’ll see you later, love.” 

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

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

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

“Is something bothering you?” 

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

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

“Yes?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you ever love me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too.” 

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

“You may now kiss the bride!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod your head, “Please.” 

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

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

“Good?” 

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

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

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

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you so much.” You smile. 

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

“I do now.” 

Three Years Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m glad I didn’t give up on you.” 

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

“I love you too.” 

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

[profoundtyrantharmony]

Title : Night in the Museum

Pairing : Guardians of the Galaxy x platonic!reader

Words : 1191

Warning/Notes : None. Inspired by the movie “Night at the Museum”. Italic means dialogues. 

Plot : Quill and Nebula are send to retrieve the reality stone and are met with someone out of time.

Masterlist // Request

“What are we here for already ?”

“Quill you idiot, we are here to retrieve the reality stone, you know to stop Thanos and bring back half the population of the entire universe !” Yelled Nebula while leaving the spaceship.

The two of them where chosen to go to Nowhere in order to find the Collector and gently ask him for the reality stone. Obviously that wont be this easy, lying is like a second skin for the Collector, he wont leave his precious collection for anyone even if his life is at stake. What a fool man he is. 

Since Thanos’s snap, so much things have changed. People lost their love, their family, their friends and so much more. Quill became a shell of the man he used to be, always remembering Gamora -probably the love of his life- trapped in his head.... That is until the Avengers -what’s let of them- decide on performing a time heist. Basically, returning to the past to retrieve the stones that Thanos haven’t stoled yet. Easy right ?! Not really. Everbody has a role to play, an infinity stone to retrieve, a mission to succeed. That’ how Nebula find herself trapped with Quill.

“What the hell happened here ?” Interrogates Quill. “That was not like that the last time I came here, it seems so different I don’t know how to word it.”

“Different how ?” Nebula never came here so as no idea what he is talking about.

“When I came here it was alien stuff everywhere, objects as well as living subjects... But know it looks like what we could find in those Terrannien Museum ?”

“You don’t seem that sure of yourself ! How I am suppose to trust you when you can’t even remember a fact as simple as “How is it different ?!” 

Before Quill could answer her, a sound of running as well as heavy footstep were heard by the bothh of them. They decide to hide behind and under a huge mahogany desk.

Some minutes later they both heard nothing, the get out of their hidding place to find themselves nose to nose with none other than me and a huge squeleton T-Rex.

“May we know who those lovely new companions’s are ?” I say in a seductive yet autoritative voice. “You’re not from here, especially you.” I irectly pointed at Nebula with a simatetic smile trying to lighten the ever present tension.

“Y-Y-You’ve got freaking dinosaure next to you, a squeleton’s dinosaure, and it’s moving...alone.” Quill freaks at the view an couln’t ontain his fear.

“No worries, he won’t do anything to any of you two except to protect us, that is a promise I made to you. Know if you could answers my previous question, I won’t have to waste my night time.”

“I’m Peter Quill and this is Nebula. We’re coming from the future to prevent a global extinction of half of the living being of this galaxy.”

“Your future seems rather awful, but it still not answer the reason of your mere presence here.”

“I think it’s stange that you don’t seem surprised at all or thinking that we might be lying to you, who are you and what are you doing here !,” Nebula couldn’t stand so many interrogations and so few answers.

“My name is Y/N, mistress of the Great Pharaoh Sethi the first, lover of the High priest Imhotep and holder of the Reality Tablett ! As for my pretended naivety, just know that Im way much older than you and I have a dinosaure on my side !”

Everything seems so unbelievable, how could this be. A dinosaure, pharaoh a reality tablett... They need answers from to Collector as soon as possible and get out of this place.

“Alright your majesty, would be please have the courtesy of telling us where to find the Colector ?” Ask Quill with all the good manners he could muster.

“Of course, he’s dead !”

“When ? How ?” If the man was dead they will never be able to retrieve the stone, not with y/n and here guard dog of a dinosaure thinks Nebula.”Did you kill him ?”

"It’s been some months now, and it wasn’t me sorry to dissapoint you gorgeous lady in blue. It was the Huns. Although I did nothing to stop them, I purely innocent.” I smile at them full of sarcasm but still genuine.

As I see that the death of the Collector seems to be a really bad new for the both of them I decide to explain them everything from the beginning to this day. At first he collected only aliens artefacts until he enters into possession of me -I was in Cambridge University at the time- to starts his Terrian collection. What he didn’t know was that I came with a tablett that -once at night and the moon shines on its center- allowed all the dead and inanimate thing to be alive again. Lets just say that it didn’t go well when he started to play with the Huns...

“So you’re saying that you’re dead ?” Ask Quill.

“From millenia now, but thanks to my tablett I rise again every night as well as everything damn thing in this museum, which explains the T-Rex.”

Nebula push Quill to the side so they can talk without being heard. She thinks that the tablett is probably a part of the stone that’s why the reallity is alternate but only in the museum an not elsewhere. They come to the conclusion that they need her tablett to prevent the end of half the universe. Unfortunately they also come to the conclusion that in order to do so she wont be able to rise anymore after tonight. They both come to her an explain everything, from Thanos to the snap, the other infinity stones and the consequences.

“If I give it to you, ou have to promise to find a way to bring it back to me”

“We’ll do what we can...” starts Quill.

“Promise me as I promise you ! I’m not the only stuck in here. I understand what you fight for I was by the Pharaoh’s side a ong time ago, the people are important. But understand also that in my point of view what happened or what will happened in the future is of no use for me as I’m already dead. The only importance for me are the people from your timeline, and from the museum.” I say with passion and tears prickling in my eyes.

“We promise you, we’ll find a way !”

“Thank you my gorgeous lady in blue !”.

 I aproach them while holding the tablett, lightly kiss the both of them on the lips, give up my tablett and go back to my sarcophagus. Before leaving their sight I turn around and tell them one last time “You made a Promise don’t make me regret it!”

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎●●●▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

This is the end of the fic, hope ou enjoyed reading it

Like, Comment and Reblog are highly apreciated

English is not my mother tongue

[a-lil-perspective]

Spare Dad Batch with an expecting s/o 👀?

I WILL SPARE DAD BATCH ANY DAY OF THE WEEK especially the pregnancy and baby stuff holy—

I’ll do you one better: Dad Batch Hunter with an expecting S/O feat. Ori’vod Omega.

Warnings for talk of pregnancy and babies and maybeee allusions to a breeding kink if you s q u i n t.

—

I’ve always said Hunter is the first one to pick up on the pregnancy. He can sense the hormone changes early on, just the slightest shift in the composition but it’s kind of a daunting revelation and so he just keeps it to himself for the first few weeks until he’s 100% certain of his suspicion.

Omega picks up on it not long after. Omega is very... perceptive in ways not yet fully understood.

Hunter still thinks he’s the only one who knows and so he’s just been carefully observing the wife while she’s none the wiser and he’s struggling lol like should he say anything or just wait for an opportunity to present itself like how does this work???

The topic is finally broached at the dinner table one night, courtesy of Omega.

She’d long since abandoned her dish in favor of idly turning over the contents, a wondrous look on her face.

Hunter’buir sitting across the way asks what’s got his mirdala so awestruck. She shrugs, but the smile underscoring her features is profound.

“I can’t wait to be a big sister.”

Hunter watches as his wife turns to their Meg, positively befuddled.

She’s able to reign in her confusion enough to run a loving hand through Omega’s hair and ask, “What do you mean by that?”

“You’re going to have a baby.”

Hunter leans back in his chair, feeling very smug with himself while the poor wife just looks shell shocked.

Still, he decides to play along, though he can’t keep the amusement from his lips. “What makes you think that, Meg?”

Omega keeps her eyes trained on her plate. She won’t meet Hunter or Mom’buir’s gaze, but she leans into the touch. “I had a dream,” she murmurs meekly, and then in afterthought adds, “—And, it was just talking to me.”

Mom’buir senses her growing reticence, and keeps a comforting hand on her cheek. “What was talking to you?” She prompts gently.

Omega’s eyes fall to her still mostly uniform stomach. “The baby.”

Both Buirs take too long to respond.

Omega quickly asks to be excused. Hunter gives her a reassuring smile and a nod, and she scampers off without another word. Mom’buir watches her go.

She feels Hunter’s eyes trained heavily on her. She turns slowly to her Riduur, thoroughly unsure of what expression she’ll find.

“You’re pregnant?” His face is pulled taut with solemnity, his antics from a moment ago quickly dissolved. He looks at her almost imploringly, and she realizes, he asks with hope wound tight in his throat. It’s something they’ve talked about extensively, a desire nestled into wantonly moans during the height of their pleasure. She knows beyond a shadow of a doubt, Hunter wants ade more than anything.

She drinks in his heavy expression. What a question to ask, for a man of heightened senses. She knows, Hunter often asks questions he already knows the answer to. “You tell me, Ruus’alor.”

His smirk from earlier returns then, and he shrugs. “I’ve had an idea. Just been waiting until the right moment.”

“How very dramatic of you.”

“All part of the plan.” He fists the hair at the nape of his neck, a nervous habit she is not at all phased by. “Actually to tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”

“So you had Omega do it?”

Hunter laughs then. “No no, I had nothing to do with that. I have no idea how she knows.”

“You’re not at all concerned that your child demonstrated prophetic abilities.”

Hunter’s eyes crease, revealing a prolonged weariness. “It’s not the first time, you know.”

The wife nods slowly. Omega she’s... she’s always been ahead of her time, ahead of the game, and the change. The Buirs can’t say they’ll ever fully comprehend it. Her insight is not one to be trifled with. It will never not be slightly unnerving, but they’ve learned to take it all in stride.

She looks to Hunter again, but his gaze is lost to her midsection, to the fantasy-turned-reality. His eyes are soft and elated.

“You’re pregnant.” It’s spoken in a whisper of reverence, and instantly the suffocating feeling that came with keeping it suppressed all this time is lifted. He embraces her in an instant, gathering her adoringly close while his hand comes up to cradle the back of her head.

She hums into him. “And you’re not surprised.”

He kisses her crown. “I knew all that fun would pay off.”

She swats him but can’t help the laugh that escapes. She racks her brain to estimate how far along she could be. Given their... increased activity the past several weeks, she doesn’t have to think too hard, but Hunter makes her promise to get in with the medics first thing in the morning.

Omega of course didn’t stray too far out of earshot; she never does. Which is what earned Hunter his swat. It’s only a matter of time before Meg, with her sweet innocence and earnest mind, begs to know what “fun” Hunter’buir is alluding to.

But for now; she scurries over and wedges in between her embracing parents. She loves seeing them happy, and she feels like she’s flying when they both lean down and kiss her. They don’t have to lean far; she’s getting so tall, growing up so fast. Her thoughts fall to the growing baby.

“I told you,” she beams as Hunter’s lips linger on her cheek.

“You sure did, Om’ika.”

—

Omega’s excitement only grows throughout the pregnancy. When baby becomes more pronounced, Meg is more proactive in her efforts, her delicate hands practically glued to the burgeoning swell as she fawns and chatters away with her growing vod’ika. She simply can’t wait.

Her and Mom’buir grow immensely closer during the process. Omega loves snuggling up with her at night, hands resting on her belly anytime Hunter’s aren’t. She presses an ear to the soft swell so that she can better hear when baby “talks” to her.

They’ll often fall asleep like that, Omega’s sweet face pillowed by Mom’buir’s tummy. The first time she feels a kick, her awe is indescribable. She touches her baby sister every chance she gets.

Yes, Meg is 1000% certain she’s getting a baby sister. Her and Hunter’buir are very proud of their “Team Girl” assertions.

And they are both right.

Ori’vod Omega is a title well earned. She is Mom’buir’s biggest help, always by her side, fussing over her health—her medical instincts never leave her. She’s always asking questions and offering suggestions—even more so when baby arrives.

It’s an intimate experience for her and the Buirs to share, and Omega feels privileged to be apart of this new, unique take on life. It’s so very different to the labs back on Kamino. And, Omega decides, far more beautiful.

[gucciwins]

it’s your birthday?

As luck would have it you once again find yourself in a breakout room with Harry

Word count: 3296

A/N: Hello friends, it’s a new semester and it felt only right to continue breakout room, a story that was well loved by you. The inspiration once again came to me during class and also because it’s Harry’s birthday. Thank you to the lovely @soullikestyles for reading this over. Here it is, enjoy!!!

I hope you love this, it is a continuation from Breakout Room 

Please shoot me a message of what you thought!!!!

i love you, take care xx 

_____

It's the start of a new semester. It's safe to say you did not make any friends last semester due to this ongoing pandemic, but what you did manage to get was a 3.9 G.P.A for the Fall semester. It was probably because you did not leave your apartment, and when you did, it was to go grocery shopping with your roommate, who would be dead without you because, as she liked to put it, you're the chef, and she's the taster. 

Well, you maybe did make one friend. 

Harry Styles.

He was the person to talk to you during a zoom breakout room in your women's gender studies course.

Sure, you were never in the same room again, but you might or might not have pinned his face during one of the professor's long ramblings that is no longer related to the course. 

He was pretty to look at; you would never deny that. 

No, with the floppy curls that he almost always seemed to run his hand through, then stopping when one of his rings got caught in a knotted ringlet. His camera would instantly turn off, and in thirty seconds, he was back as if nothing had happened. The glasses framed his face just right, making his eyes look soft and inviting. Also made his dimples stand out. He almost always wore a different colored cardigan. Your favorite from the semester was when he wore a multicolored cardigan. That looks like it was knitted; there was a hole by his heart. Honestly, you were hoping he had, would have made him even more endearing. 

Also, might one day ask him to make you one, or he could even teach you. You're a fast learner and have patience. 

He's got a great choice in clothing from what you was able to observe in such a short time—also a lovely personality. 

After his initial email, you decided to answer, thus creating a chain of messages back and forth. He was honestly funny, and that was just on paper. He had asked for her number and said no, and he respected that. It doesn't mean they never helped each other in the class; Harry asking for more help than Y/N. She sent him over her notes and explained the readings he found harder to grasp. 

As soon as finals week hit, she received her last email from him with the subject as Goodbye. It took you by surprise, and you erased the draft you had waiting for him that had your phone number wanting to keep talking to him. Still, clearly, he thought of them as just classmates for the semester, so without even opening his last email, you trashed it. 

You felt guilty about it, so you then transferred it to your archives, where it sits with other unwanted emails. 

_____

The holidays are over, and since you could not make the trip home, you celebrated with Amy, your roommate. You both help each other buy your family's presents, looking for the best discounts and adding extra items to get the free shipping. Together, well, mostly you as she handed you pieces of tape you wrapped present after present in brown wrapping paper. It was harder to tear and more comfortable to decorate in any way you wanted. On each box, it had everyone's name written in beautiful handwriting, courtesy of you. Then you would add snowflakes or stripes to make it stand out. 

It was a success from their looks when each gift was open through the zoom call. 

The month break flew by, and the next thing you knew, it was time to be back at your desk for hours of learning. It was fun until it wasn't sure there was a lot to look forward to, but you would miss sleeping all day and eating snacks in bed with no fear of forgetting to submit an assignment. 

This semester you had four major courses. Psychology of Personality and Psychology of Aging were the two courses you were most looking forward to. You decided on taking the women's gender studies class called Politics of Sexuality. You had gotten the recommendation from the department's head to take it and did so without a second thought. Yes, fifteen units was a lot, but you were close to graduating, and you knew you could handle it. 

The first week flew by because it was merely going over the syllabus. You had your camera on, but you did not bother to look at your other classmates. Sasha, a fellow person in your major, would be your study partner as she had been all semester. Sasha might not always be in the class section, but she did take the same professors and courses. It makes studying and taking notes easier. You know you won't always have Sasha, but having a study partner has ever made you do better. 

February 1st. The start of the second week of the semester. 

You woke up at seven, got the tea that Amy had ready for you, and were sitting at your desk by eight. Your professor droned on about the first chapter of the book. You felt confident knowing you understood the significant points. 

It's 11:30, and your second course of the day is going to start. You were not looking forward to the class simply because Dr. Rossi had warned you he would be putting you into breakout rooms of two. That person would be your partner for the semester. You had a project due at the end of the semester, and he wanted you to be acquainted with someone rather than having a person working alone. 

You sat there, Baby Yoda ceramic mug in hand, as you waited for your breakout room to load and to see who you were destined to work with for the next fourteen weeks. 

There was a knock on your door that distracted you from seeing the video of someone else load. 

"Sorry, I know you're in class, but I was wondering when lunch was to see how big of a snack I should have." Amy shoots you a small smile. 

"No worries, Ames, I'm out at 12:45 and will need half an hour to cook, so roughly 1:30. Is that okay?" You tell her feeling a little awful, making her wait. 

"It's perfect. Have a good class." Amy shuts the door.

As you hear the click, you turn back to your computer, and they're staring at you in a lavender cardigan with a white shirt underneath is the one and only Harry Styles.  

His curls are shorter, meaning he recently got a haircut, and they are just growing back. You wished he had let it grow out, wanting to see how much more ruly they would have gotten.

You feel your face heat up, remembering you did not do your hair, instead of letting it sit messily in a low ponytail, small hair framing your hair. You were sure the black sweatshirt you had one had a hummus stain but too afraid to look down to check. You weren't even aware he was in this class; it shows you should be paying attention more to your classmates. 

He shoots you a small smile, and you grimace, trying to force one out, but you're still a bit shocked. 

You see his microphone go white, meaning he was about to speak. You leaned forward in anticipation, a bit desperate to hear his smooth accent through your computer speakers. 

"Hello, it's been a while." Harry raises his glasses to hold back his hair. 

You reach forward and unmute yourself. "Hello, Harry. It has been a while. It's a new year and everything." You joke. 

He chuckles, scratching his chin. You aren't sure what to do; it was never this awkward the first time you chatted. 

"Guess we're partners, huh." 

"Apparently." You sigh, a bit loud, forgetting he can hear you. 

"Ouch, don't need to sound too excited." He tells you not at all hiding his frown. 

"No, I didn't." You stop not knowing how to go back from that. "Sorry, that was rude of me." 

He nods, not saying anything more, and you take it as a sign to continue. 

"I-i, well, after our last class ended, I figured that was that. You said goodbye in the last email, so I figured that was the end of our friendship, if you can even call it that." 

"I thought my email would give the opposite impression, but not everything can translate as smoothly when talking." He tells you, which causes you to pause. 

"Your email literally said goodbye," You blurt out before you can stop yourself.

He hides his smile, "My subject said goodbye, the content said quite the opposite. You did read it, right?" 

You duck your head, not allowing yourself to meet his eye even through a computer screen, too embarrassed to be caught. "Well, no, I didn't. Hurt my feelings, just seeing the goodbye." You look up and see his eyes soften, giving you just a bit more courage to continue. "I've always struggled to make friends, I have like three good friends, and it's hard putting myself out there, and I didn't actually if you considered me a friend or not." 

"Y/N" He breathes out your name.

You stop him before he can continue. "Do you mind if I read it now?" 

Harry shakes his head. 

You restore down the zoom and open up your Gmail on the split-screen. You find it reasonably quickly; you look up at him to see him patiently sitting back chipping at his nails. They are a pastel yellow; it makes you smile, knowing just yesterday you went from that color to a deep red. 

hstyles@gmail.com 

Subject: Goodbye 

Y/N, 

It's been enjoyable emailing back and forth. I honestly would not have passed this class without you. I think you are brilliant and if I had you in every course, I would finish with A's in them all. So, thank you for having the patience to teach me. 

Also, thank you for being my friend. I know we mostly talked about school work. Still, you did help me decide on what coat to buy for my sister, so I know that makes us friends, and I did help you get that switch for your little brother. (That was like trying to buy floor tickets for Lady Gaga.)

On another note, after emailing for twelve weeks, I was wondering if I could have your number. I would like the chance to give you a call and formally ask you on a date. I know we're in the middle of a pandemic, and dating is hard, but we can do zoom dates before we try in person. 

I understand if it's a no, but I am really grateful to have met you.

Your friend (although I do want to try to be more)

Harry Styles 

City Pointe Apt 32 (in case you want to send a care package, I would gladly return the favor)

"Oh, Harry," You inhale, "I'm so sorry." 

"No worries." He shrugs. 

You pause, thinking your next words. "I live in Rose Villa." Those were not the words you wanted to say, but you don't take it back. 

"That's across the street from my building." He gasps. "We could have run into each other." 

You nod. "Small world." 

Harry brings his focus back to something you skipped over. "I realize you didn't mention the part of asking you on a date." 

"Oh, I figured you over that now. It's been well over a month since I ignored your email." You grimace, starting to feel awful about it all over again. 

"I guess it was email abandonment this time." He jokes.

You laugh, and it gets Harry laughing as well. He was always good at that, making you laugh and not be so serious even if he didn't know it. 

"Y/N," Harry's voice was strong, no signs of laughter in his trace. You lock eyes as best you can through a computer screen. "I would still very much like to take you on a date."

A date with Harry. 

You want to say yes, but it's like you're frozen. 

"Can I say something else before you give me an answer?" You nod, waiting for him to go on. "Sarah Jones, do you know her?" 

Sarah Jones, you rack your brain trying to place her. 

The theater composer. She's written original tracks for the theatre department for the original plays they've done and remakes. She's won countless awards.

Sarah even won the talent show. Played a killer drum solo that no one else could ever think of topping. 

If you're honest, she's the definition of your girl crush. 

"We follow each other on social media. We met at a paint night; she was really easy to talk to." You tell him, remembering how sweet she was to you when she saw you walk in, and just as you were about to walk out, she introduced herself to you, asking to sit with you. 

He nods. "Sarah is my roommate's girlfriend. Mitch and Sarah practically live together; he's so in love with her it truly is the sweetest thing. Back to the point, she overheard me talking about you to Mitch and spoke how she knew you. Then I proceeded to stalk your Instagram on her account. I hope that's not weird." 

You laugh, and it causes Harry to calm down, "Not weird at all. I would have done the same thing, but as you can see, I rarely upload anything." 

"Well, the things you do have, I think, are wonderful." He rambles on explaining how your beach photo on a bike with a pretty pink basket was one of his favorites and how cute you look wearing sweaters. 

As endearing as Harry was being, you decided to put him out of his misery. "Harry," you interrupt. 

"Yes." 

"I'd love to go on a date with you." 

"You would?" He gasps in surprise. 

"Yes." 

"That's fantastic. I think this is the best birthday gift I could have received." He tells you, but you're stuck on the last thing he said. 

"It's your birthday?" 

Harry smiles sheepishly. "Yes." 

"Happy Birthday, Harry." You tell him softly, a big smile on your face.

A blush overtakes his face; you can tell he wishes to cover up his face with hands but holds back from doing so. "Thank you." 

"Do you have any plans?" 

"No, well. Mitch and Sarah are coming over for lunch in a bit. Then they are off to study at Sarah's for the week. Her roommates are gone for the week." 

You frown, not liking that he'll spend the rest of his birthday alone. 

"Would you-never mind" You stop yourself from being able to invite yourself over to celebrate with him?

"Hey, it's okay. Whatever you wanted to say, I wouldn't judge you, love." His voice was soft and reassuring. 

"Well, I'd love to come over and hang out with you if that's okay. I can make us dinner, I make delicious enchiladas. Also, my carrot cake is to die for." 

Harry is surprised at her offer but nods his head quickly. "That sounds wonderful, but you don't have to cook for me. We can order takeout."

She shakes her head. "Consider it my gift to you." 

"Well, okay. Is six okay for you?" He bites his lip, not believing this is happening.

"Perfect." 

You sit there smiling at each other. 

When a message pops up overhead, "You have five minutes left before we join back as a group."

Your eyes go wide, having forgotten you were in class. "We didn't even discuss the assignment." 

Harry shakes his head in laughter, a smile spreads over your face. He has an adorable laugh that just rings through your ears, and you can't wait to hear it in person. 

"We've got time, now that it seems we'll be getting to know each other better." 

You relax, settling a bit, you have weeks before the assignment is due.

"I'll email you my number, love. Easier to communicate for later."

"Sounds great." You respond. 

_____

It's five-fifty, and you're standing outside his door. You're more than a little nervous. You're wearing high waisted jeans paired with a black off the shoulder top with floral embroidered sleeves. You decided against a sweater knowing the short walk would keep you warm enough. Your mask is red, with three small hearts stitched on the lower right side. Perfect for February. 

You shift the items in your hand to the right and lift your hand up to knock. After three gentle knocks, you hear footsteps and take a step back. 

"Hi," Harry breathes out, a big smile on his face.

"Hello, Harry, happy birthday." 

"Thank you." He smiles wide, blessing you with his dimples. Definitely look better in person. "Please come in." He grabs some of the items from your hand and allows you to step in before locking the door behind you. 

"Your mask is lovely. Did you make it?" 

"I did!" You share excitedly. "My roommate, Amy, and I spent lots of our free time making a different kind. We took old shirts we no longer wanted and used for the material. It was a lot of trial and error, but we're pretty solid at it now. My embroidery could use some work, but I think it's lovely. 

"It really is. Would you make me one?" He asks, staring at you as you pocket your mask. No longer needing it in his home. 

"Yes, I'll send you pictures of the fabric I have, or you could come over, and I can teach you as well." You tell him, excited at the prospect. 

"Sounds like a wonderful date." You nod, feeling your body get warm at the word date because today could also classify as a date. 

Harry knocks you out of your head when calling your name. "Turned the oven on like you requested." He informs you. 

"Thank you, my mom showed me how to make them, but I learned about the melted cheese on my own. She wasn't a big fan of it, but everyone else I know loves it, so I hope you will as well." 

Harry grabs your hand and gives it a squeeze. "I'm sure it's wonderful." He bumps your shoulder gently. "Go finish up; I'll set the table." 

He pushes you into the kitchen, and you go in and place your stuff. Harry is whistling, settling down on the table two glasses and two forks when you turn back around towards him. 

Harry turns around just in time for you to wrap your hands around his waist. You fit perfectly in his arms, taking in his musky scent. "Happy birthday, Harry." You whisper against his chest.

He squeezes you tighter, leaning his head on top of yours. "Thank you, love." 

He pulls back, holding you by your shoulders. A big smile on his face, you reciprocate it feeling his happiness warm your heart. 

"Run along now; I'm starving." He jokes.

You walk backward, creating distance; as his left-hand trails down your right hand slowly until he's touching your fingertips, do you pull away. Although you, more than anything, wanted to hold his hand. You want to feel the weight of it in yours; you want to know if his hands are soft or calloused. How cool his rings will feel against your palm. All in due time. 

"I'm happy to be here." 

"Me too, love. Me too." 

It's safe to say you were more than luckily going to have yourself a valentine for the first time in a long time. 

[yourmidnightlover]

also.. fluff 10 and smut 5 maybe 😌

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: i LOVE fake dating.

fluff #10: fake dating

smut #5: first time (a classic)

CW: cursing, unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, oral (fem receiving), virgin!spencer, leaning towards dom!reader but not explicitly mentioned. *let me know if i’ve missed anhthing*

he needed something. something to make him seem less loser-y. he needed you.

spencer reid’s high school reunion was right around the corner. said high school reunion had all of the kids who would make fun of him, pick on him. the ones that stripped him naked on a pole. now he was 26 and in the bau for the fbi. he was successful. he made his mark. he saved lives.

but he still didn’t have a significant other. he didn’t have someone to come home to. he would have to go to his high school reunion with the knowledge that everyone was still more successful than him in the relationship aspect because he didn’t have that special someone.

“kid,” morgan intervened, “don’t let something like that make you not go to the reunion. you’re successful now. you’re pretty boy. that alone will rub it in their faces.”

“i know but everyone’s probably in a relationship now. they might even have kids and a wife or husband. i just... i want to seem like something to them,” he placed the lid on his coffee cup and began walking with morgan back to his desk.

“then ask someone to go with you. i know a little someone who wouldn’t mind posing as your girlfriend for a few nights,” morgan nudged his shoulder.

“morgan,” he rolled his eyes. “you know who i actually want to go with, which means you also know that she won’t want to go with me,” he finished explaining.

“y/n?” morgan whispered. “the girl who’s been fawning over you since she got here? the new liaison that’s been here for over a year that you still haven’t asked out?”

spencer turned his face to look at you through your office window. you were busy filing through cases, your head down in focus as you bit your lower lip while concentrating. your hair was crowding your face, obstructing the view of the beauty spencer has become mesmerized by.

“reeiidd,” morgan sang mockingly. “that just proves my theory. ask her out already.”

“i don’t want to ruin things, morgan,” he sighed as he sat down at his desk. “i wouldn’t even know how to ask her. i’ve barely kissed a girl, let alone ask one out.”

“you don’t have to ask her out, really,” he sat atop his desk. “just mention the situation and say she was the first person that came to mind, flatter her.”

“morgan, drop it,” spencer hissed as the bau filled a bit more.

“just ask her to go with you,” he said a bit louder.

“ask who to go where?” your voice rang through his ears, he liked up to see morgan smirking.

“uhm ask...” he ran his mind for another answer besides the truth.

“i know when you’re trying to come up with a lie, spence,” you chuckled.

“fine,” he sighed. “i wanted to ask if you’d mind going to my high school reunion with me?” he couldn’t meet your eyes.

“oh sure! that sounds fun,” you agreed. “why were you so nervous to ask?”

“well, you see,” he cleared his throat. “everyone in my class has a significant other and i just wanted to seem a bit less like a loser.”

“spencer you aren’t a loser,” you said sympathetically. “you save lives on a daily basis, you’re crazy smart, you have the sweetest personality, and you’re gorgeous. there’s nothing loser-y about you.”

“re-really?” he asked.

“of course, really,” you nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder. “and if you’d want me to pose as your girlfriend i’d be more than honored,” you added with a chuckle.

“thank you, y/n,” he smiled. “it-it means a lot to me.”

“of course. but for now,” you motioned to the files in your hand, “it’s case time.”

-

after a couple of months had passed, the reunion was finally upon the two of you. spencer had insisted on paying for your ticket to vegas because ‘he got you into this mess in the first place.’

you and spencer had to reserve one hotel room - courtesy of the school reunion. they just so happened to decide to allow the two of you to share one bed. it was reasonable, and cost efficient.

as the two of you entered the room, you were surprisingly caught off guard with not only the one bed in the room, but also with how nice the hotel room was. out on the balcony there was a jacuzzi that was covered by an awning. when you looked in the bathroom, there was a rather large tub and a separate shower adjacent to it.

“wow,” you awed. “this place is really nice.”

“i didn’t expect this,” he added. “i guess they saved the money from my actual high school years.”

you plopped down in the center of the bed, sighing as the soft mattress curved around your back, “i could really get used to this.”

“yea, me too,” he took the time to gawk at you as you seemed so peaceful, lying on the bed. “we uhm,” he cleared his throat, “we should probably start getting ready for tonight.”

“alright,” you groaned, slowly sitting up to prepare for the evening.

-

walking into his old high school, spencer felt a wave of nostalgia mixed with bile rising in his throat. this place was absolute hell for him. he was teased, ridiculed, practically tortured for being special.

“hey,” you squeezed his arm, which yours was wrapped around. “you’ve got this, spence. you aren’t the same defenseless kid you were back then,” you stopped him in the middle of the hallway and placed your hands on his shoulders, gently massaging them. “you are a successful adult with an amazing job and friends to support you. plus, you have a really hot girlfriend by your side,” you both chuckled at that.

“thank you,” he took a deep breath. “thank you for being here.”

“it’s my honor,” you placed your arm in the crook of his once more. “shall we?”

“we shall,” he smiled as you entered the gymnasium of his old high school.

spencer tried his best to avoid any glances or possible stares. it was nerve wracking, being here with his previous bullies. granted, with you by his side he was far less worried.

you had found a group of people he used to hang out with. he was never close with people in high school, but these kids at least didn’t make fun of him. they were all proud to see that the former child prodigy is now using his gifts for the betterment of their country. you had even seen his old math teacher that took a liking for him many years ago.

“spencer?” he heard a very familiar, chill-inducing voice. he looked up to see none other than her.

alexa lisbon.

“spencer,” she chuckled. “it’s me, alexa.”

he felt your grip on him tighten, reasonably so since you knew about what had happened.

“h-hi,” he stuttered out.

alexa wasn’t as beautiful as she was in high school. it’s true what they say about those who peek in high school, he presumes.

“how’ve you been? i heard you work for the fbi now?” she placed a hand on his shoulder, which he resisted swatting away.

“yup. the behavioral analysis unit,” he looked at you before wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “i actually met her there, at work.”

“...her? are you two...?” she retracted her hand from his shoulder as you curled into his chest.

luckily, you two had already worked out the kinks of your “relationship.” where you met, first date, how long, everything was figured out.

“yes. for six months now, actually,” he smiled and looked down at you. “it’s been an amazing time with her. i wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. i love you.”

“i love you too, sweetie,” you gave him a chaste peck on the cheek, noticing his blush once you retreated.

“well, that’s... nice,” she almost grimaced as she gazed over you. “how did he manage to get a girl like you?”

“like me?” you asked for clarification.

“y’know... beautiful?” she lent in towards you as if spencer wouldn’t be able to hear what she had said.

“excuse you?” you scoffed.

“you heard me,” she rolled her eyes.

“no, i heard you. i was just wanting to give you the chance to realize how incredibly dumb you sounded, but apparently you truly are just that. dumb,” you placed a hand on spencer’s chest protectively. “this is one of the strongest, smartest, and most brave men i’ve ever met. he protects our country every day by using his own intelligence, something you clearly lack. so next time you ever think about insulting him or me, i suggest you ask yourself whether or not your even deserving of talking to him.”

“i-i just-“

“just nothing,” you interrupted. “how about you go and annoy someone else with your lack of brain cells?” and she walked away with a roll of her eyes.

“i can’t believe her,” you scoffed, turning around to look directly at spencer.

“you uhm, you didn’t have to stand up for me like that,” he whispered.

“i wanted to,” you wrapped your arms around his torso. “she’s a bitch and it seemed like nobody has ever put her in her place. i’m glad i got the honor to do so,” you gloated.

“i know. but thank you,” he sighed, briefly looking over his shoulder. “i think she’s still looking.”

“do you trust me?” you placed your hands on the side of his face, drawing his attention to only you.

“always,” he nodded as you got on your tip-toes, gently pulling his face into your own.

he placed his hands hesitantly on your waist, helping to hoist you up to meet his own lips. it was better than he’d imagined - and boy, did he imagine this. you were gentle, and delicate but provided the passion that spencer shared with you, pulling his bottom lip between your own and gently nibbling it. he let one of his hands trail up your body, going to the back of your head to deepen the kiss. at this point, he had forgotten all about alexa and the other students at the reunion. it was just you and him.

“can we-“ you whispered softly to him, your forehead pressed against his, “can we get out of here?”

“please,” he breathed out as you grabbed his hand, pulling him back through the doors of the gymnasium to exit.

-

as soon as you opened the room, you were on each other. you nearly tore his jacket off of him as he worked on the dress you had worn. he wanted to take his time, to relish in this moment while it lasted, but his own eagerness betrayed him. he was far too excited to be able to slow down.

his hands roamed your body, pawing at the soft tissue of your breasts over your bra as you moaned into his mouth.

“take it off,” you sighed, allowing him to reach behind you and unclasp the clothing.

“fuck,” he awed upon seeing your bare chest, you giggled at his eagerness.

as he gawked at your chest, it was almost as if something had clicked in your mind. and he saw that it had.

“have you... done this before?” you asked, your hands moving down to his shoulders.

“like am i a... a virgin?” he bit his lower lip as he saw you nod. “... yes.”

it didn’t truly surprise you. he had never had a long term girlfriend, and as a child prodigy sex was probably pushed to the back burner.

“are you sure you want your first time to be with me? i’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be special,” you smiled half heartedly.

“of course i want to do it with you. was your first time special?” he rebutted, maybe he knew it wasn’t special ahead of time.

“you deserve for yours to be, though,” you tried to reason.

“it will be if it’s with you, please,” he let his hands trail to your waist as he gave you his best puppy dog eyes, pleading for you to keep going.

“and you’re sure?”

“so sure,” he whispered, smiling before connecting your lips once more.

you were content with that answer. he felt your hands wound in his hair once more, gently tugging at the locks to elicit a groan from spencer. you slowly pushed him back to sit on the bed and straddled his hips, his hands still firm on your waist. clearly, he still wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch. placing your hands atop his, you trailed them to the front of your body, stopping them once they reached your breasts. he looked up at you with eyes seeking approval, which you granted in the form of a nod. he leisurely took one of them into his mouth, your head rolling back in pleasure from the feeling. his hand continued to work on the opposite side, tweaking the nipple when he took it between his teeth.

“so good to me, spence,” you praised from his lap, slowly grinding against his bulge to seek any form of relief.

you were both getting more and more eager as the time passed, evident by the groans and whimpers that left each other’s mouths. because if this, you ran your hand down his front and let it remain over the bulge before gently stroking it.

“y/n...” he murmured. “please, i-i need...”

“need what, baby?” you asked with a smile. “need my mouth on you? need inside of me? tell me, sweet boy.”

“anything,” he decided to go with. “i need anything.”

“how about i just...” you got off of him to remove your pants before looking back at the man sitting before you. “care to even the playing field?”

“ri-right,” he chuckled before standing up to undo his belt and throw his pants off, followed by unbuttoning his shirt.

“so fucking pretty,” you walked closer to him and slid off your panties. “do you think i’m pretty, too?”

“i-i- of course, i do,” he reached for your waist hesitantly, eyeing your now bare pussy, his nerves not getting the better of him.

“yea?” you straddled him once more but this time pushed his torso down so he was lying on the bed.

he felt your hand trace his bulge that was still trapped inside of his boxers. the light touch was enough for him to whimper. he wanted nothing more than to make you feel good, but he was too mesmerized by the feeling of you.

“morgan has a point when he calls you pretty boy,” your lips were now happily decorating his neck. “i’ve never met a man who i can confidently call pretty, yet here you are.”

“plea-please,” his hips bucked up before you reached inside of his boxers, pulling him out of the fabric.

“before we keep going,” you paused for a moment. “i have condoms in my bag, but i’m clean and on the pill if you’d want to...”

“... not wear one?” you nodded your head. “i’m clearly clean, too. and i just - i really want to feel you.”

“perfect,” you chuckled. “let me do the work, baby,” you sat up temporarily, placing his dick just below your center. “you feel that? how wet i am?”

“yes, god, yes. i feel it,” his hips bucking forward allowed his dick to rub between your folds.

“that’s from you, my sweet boy. all you,” you ground your hips against his member once more, sending his head flying back from the friction.

“please,” he breathed out with obvious frustration. “i-i won’t last long if you keep going.”

“alright, i’ve got you,” you finally rose your hips, reaching between the two of you so you could line him up with your entrance before slowly sinking down on him.

“oh my god,” he whimpered. “you’re-you’re so tight and wet and - god.”

“does this feel as good for you?” you asked as you stayed stationary on his lap, trying to let him soak in this experience as much as he could.

“probably better, if i’m being honest,” he let his hands grip your hips with a bruising touch, too eager to realize his own strength.

“i doubt that,” slowly, you rose your hips before dropping them back down.

spencer’s hands found their way up to your chest, gently pawing at them with fascination. his hips began to meet yours as you picked up the pace.

“fuck, it feels so good,” he cried out, placing one arm around your waist so he could fuck you from beneath.

“ditto, pretty boy,” you groaned as his hips picked up the pace. “so fucking eager, baby. you feel so good inside of me. cum whenever you need to, baby. i want you to cum inside me.”

“fuck - i’m gonna - i-i-“ his hips thrusted up one more time before spurts of his cum filled you up. “oh, fuck!”

“oh, you did so good, sweet boy,” you stroked his hair as he fucked his cum into you, trying to ride out his orgasm. “so, so good.”

you continued to rub his shoulders and stroke his hair as he came down from his high.

“you didn’t come,” he whispered against your chest.

“it’s alright. i still enjoyed myself,” you smiled at the sentiment. “sex isn’t always about coming. it’s also about the intimacy.”

“but i wanted you to come, too,” he nearly whined. “can i... can i make you feel good, too?”

“how do you wanna do that sweet boy?” you wanted to hear him say it, that much was obvious.

“you know,” he turned his head on your chest, placing a chaste kiss on your breast.

“do i?” you tugged gently at his hair to hear him whimper once more.

“please, can i...” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “perform oral on you?”

“oh, i love it when you talk dirty to me, doctor reid,” you sighed with a soft chuckle. “of course you can.”

you lifted yourself off of him before he slowly rolled you over, kissing his way down your body to meet with your center. he placed a soft kiss to your clit before licking a broad stroke up your slit, cleaning up the mess he made inside of you.

“fuck, good boy,” he moaned at the praise, wanting to hear more and more every day.

and he worked for the praise. he lapped at your center and sucked lightly on your clit, quickly building the tension inside of your stomach. once he entered his finger, unprompted, you questioned how experienced he truly was. he curled the finger inside of you expertly, trying to find your g-spot and successfully doing so. it was only a few stroked from inside of you and sucking on your clit for a few more seconds when you came on his fingers, tugging on his hair and digging your nails into his shoulder.

“fuck, spencer!” you moaned out, throwing your head back as he worked you through your own high.

once you had come down, it took pulling spencer up by his shoulders for him to let up on your pussy. that man might’ve been made to eat a girl out.

“you did so fucking good, spence,” you praised before connecting your lips, gently sucking on his tongue.

“that was...” he trailed off, trying to think of the right word to describe it. “it was enticing,” he settled on.

“yea?” you chuckled against his lips.

“yea,” he smiled back before sucking your bottom lip between his own. “thank you, for this.”

“thank you for trusting me with this,” your fingers twirled his locks between your fingers.

“i don’t know how this normally works but... i think i just really want to-i want to...” he squinted his eyebrows before ripping the bandaid off, not wanting to sound too squishy. “can we just cuddle? i think i need to feel close to you.”

“of course we can, spence,” you replied. “but first i need to pee. i refuse to get a uti,” you quickly got up and ran to the bathroom, returning later and finding him cuddled underneath the sheets, leaving space on the bed beside him for you.

once you had laid down, he laid his head on your still bare chest. he loved the closeness and intimacy being bare with you had, and he had never felt it before.

spencer knew he had chosen the right person to not only share his high school reunion with, but also share his first time with. perhaps you would be the first, and last.

[legends-live-in-memories]

Business (Mis)Management

AYO you know the drill. MGI Trope Tussle! 

Fics Masterlist

Timari Oneshot 2.3K words

Summary: 

"Right before her, where her professor usually stood every Tuesday and Thursday, stood a surprise guest lecturer. One problem, though. Marinette hates the guy. She hates him and his stupid well-fitting suit that she dedicated actual blood sweat and tears into making. "

One shot using two prompts for this server event: Day 3:College AU Day 5: "Why'd you do that?" "I- I don't know..."

without further ado: 

It was Tuesday, bright and early at 9:30 am, and Marinette was ready to commit murder. She was sitting in her Intro to Business Management course with her cup of coffee and notepad ready and pencil about to snap in her grip. Right before her, where her professor usually stood every Tuesday and Thursday, stood a surprise guest lecturer. One problem, though. Marinette hates the guy. She hates him and his stupid well-fitting suit that she dedicated actual blood sweat and tears into making. 

Right there, on this awful Tuesday morning, stood one Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne looking all the world like he would rather be anywhere else; stupid rich people were all the same, thinking the world was doing them a favour by letting them grace everyone else with their presence. Marinette also wishes he was anywhere else but life doesn’t work that way. Her actual professor stood off to the side, waxing sonnets about how accomplished the young CEO was and Marinette listened to none of it. Rather, she was silently stewing in her thoughts, lost in how this man became the particularly large thorn in her side.

It was six months ago when she got an email asking for a commission. A commission for the exact three piece suit he was wearing today. He had gotten her contact from another client and his emailed request was perfect and professional. He had asked for the suit, listed all the required measurements and requested any personalizations he wanted. They couldn’t meet for any in-person fittings so it was currently both aggravating and satisfying to see it fit his lean figure so perfectly. The drama didn’t start, however, until two weeks after, when Marinette had sent the finished product to the designated address. While Marinette isn’t one for showboating and bragging about her capabilities, it grinds her teeth when others try to talk down on her skills. 

When Marinette had sent off the suit, and emailed the man that the package was to be expected within three business days, she got a rather crude email in response, labeling her work as ‘tacky’ and a ‘pathetic attempt at wiggling her way into his family’s pockets.’ That had her doubletaking at the sender, making sure it wasn’t some spam mail that she was reading. Nope, that’s his email right there. Marinette remembered a particular twitch she had in her eye the first time she read that email. It was one thing to be ungrateful of a finished product, Marinette was no stranger to harsh critiques and pieces that worked better on paper than as actualized designs, but the accusation of being a gold-digger set off warning bells that threw her back into the tenth grade where she had battles with a rich blonde with daddy issues. At least he had paid her in advance for the suit. Marinette would have been perfectly fine with silently cutting all ties with Mr. Wayne right then and there, and putting the whole ordeal behind her, until he decided that a crassly worded email wasn’t enough. No. He felt compelled to go on national television and insult her suit for everyone to hear. Marinette remembers his words perfectly, as if they were ingrained in her memory forever.

“You’ve seen the suits I’ve worn, I look like I escaped my own funeral. I’ve tried local, and outsourcing designers and tailors and nothing matches my taste. I’m only twenty-three and I dress like I’ve gone through my third divorce—”Marinette had turned off the television to shamelessly cry into her pillow. She couldn’t bear to hear him insult her design over the poorly timed laughs of the ‘live-studio audience’ that particular interview was filmed in front of. 

After that, Marinette had reaffirmed her conclusion that all rich people were assholes best left to their own privileged bubble. 

A solid clap snapped her attention back to the front of the lecture hall, eyes narrowing at the man by the podium. The presentation pulled up on the smart board indicated that he was going to be speaking to them about professionalism and how to engage in buyer-seller conversations. Oh that was bloody perfect. What did this guy know about any of those things? 

The time was 9:45 exactly when the guy decided to start his presentation. 

“Hello, everyone,” his voice was smooth and firm, not wavering while speaking before a hall filled with two hundred students. “My name is Timothy Drake-Wayne but you all can just call me Tim. It’s lovely to meet all of you and I’m honoured to be here speaking for you today.” 

Cue a very predictable, very standard, very boring introduction. Marinette was beginning to tune out at this point.

“To start off this presentation, I would like to talk about misunderstandings in professional conversations.” He started walking across the front of the room. Slow and methodical; he knew he had all eyes on him and he was taking full advantage of it. Marinette wanted to gag. “Additionally, I want to discuss how to avoid them, and what to do if miscommunication occurs.”

Blah, blah blahblah. Marinette didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.

“To start off, I’m going to talk about a situation I found myself in not too long ago.” That caught her attention. “It’s funny now and makes for great dinner conversation but not so much when it had happened. How many of you siblings?”

He paused and surveyed the room. His eyes passed over Marinette and for a brief second she thought he focused on her for a blink longer than necessary. She banished the thought from her mind; she didn’t have siblings so he had no reason to notice her.  

“Now,” he continued, “how many of you have siblings who aren’t afraid to sabotage your work when they’re mad at you?” 

Another pause as some of the students lowered their hands. Some were unsure and Marinette had a weird feeling in her gut. Her instincts were screaming at her but she couldn’t figure out why.

“Don’t feel shy,” the guy raised his hand to join the students, “my younger brother is a menace who can and has attempted to sabotage my business. Just recently in fact.”

Marinette looked around the room to see quite a few surprised faces. She was vaguely familiar with the Wayne family and remembered a few details about the youngest child. He was a menace, that’s for sure. As egotistical as any thirteen year old can be. That feeling in her gut returned with vigor. She was suddenly very alert and eager, almost desperate, to figure out how the ankle biter had sabotaged this man.

“About six months ago my brothers and I were butting heads as usual. My sister was enjoying everything while shit hit the fan from a safe distance. I’m not going to go into much details.” He’s arms were waving animatedly as he spoke. It was quite endearing. NO. Bad thoughts, Marinette. “The point of all this is that I pissed my younger brother off somehow. I don’t know, maybe I breathed too hard on his cat or something.” That got a laugh out of the students except Marinette. Six months. He said his brother had sabotaged him around six months ago. That gut feeling had turned her stomach into a pit, eating away at her nerves.

“My brother had hacked into my email and sent absolutely horrible replies to everyone that was marked as important in my contacts in a poor attempt at pretending to be me. Of course, most of those contacts work at Wayne Enterprises. It took a courtesy email explaining the mishap and a personal visit with an apology gift to clear the air. Now for the contacts who don’t work at Wayne E, that’s where it gets tricky.”

Marinette was holding her breath, wishing for this day to already be over and for the ground to open and swallow her whole. She both hoped she was and wasn’t wrong. On the one hand, it meant that he was truly that harsh in replying to her and she wasn’t among the contacts his brother emailed, justifying her slowly dwindling fury. On the other more plausible hand, it meant that he wasn’t responsible for the crude email. It still didn’t explain the interview he did but…but she never did watch the entire thing. She had started watching the interview already expecting him to tear her down. He never referenced her suit by any specifics before she had changed the channel. That probably meant that she had poorly misjudged him. But she would have been contacted in some way if she was among those people and she hadn’t. So he was still an ass to her. Right? 

“For those who I couldn’t visit in person,” Oh god, he was still speaking. “I sent them more personal emails compared to what I sent the employees. That was really the most I could do and I hoped for the best. I got a reply from most; they were rather understanding, actually, some even claiming that their own siblings would do something like that. It went over pretty well.” He suddenly had this forlorn look as he rubbed his hands absentmindedly against the suit. 

“While I was lucky that most of my contacts were understanding, one important thing to be prepared for is people who won’t be that forgiving. Do you see this suit I’m wearing? I love this suit. I will absolutely get buried in this suit. I had commissioned and received it just before the email fiasco and I, regrettably, never got a response when I tried to both thank and apologize to them. My brother had used my email to accuse them of being a gold-digger of all things. I would have loved to commission them again but it looks like my brother burned that bridge permanently.”

What? No. That’s not true and Marinette felt hot rage flare up in her. Was he really lying to try and save face right now? She felt the strong urge to interrupt him. To march down those steps and let him know exactly how she felt about him lying about emailing her to apologize. But, a treacherous hopeful part of herself whispered to her, she had to be sure. She had to have irrefutable proof that she wasn’t one of the victims to his rabid brother and he was just an ass. 

She couldn’t get to her phone fast enough. She searched for all the emails the two had exchanged, finding the most recent to be his harsh email. She had another niggling feeling, however, and decided to check her spam mail. 

Marinette has most definitely stopped breathing. 

Right there, in bold letters sat a Wayne Enterprises email waiting to be opened and read. She couldn’t bring herself to click it open, ice flooding her veins, freezing her in her seat. She actually misread the situation. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to bash her head on the table and grovel for forgiveness from this very handsome man. She didn’t do any of this, however, managing some degree of composure and sat through the remainder of his presentation. She would bet her left leg it was the best presentation she would have ever heard but she couldn’t recall a single word of it from that point on; too busy digging her own grave and writing her own eulogy. She could never show her face around Gotham again. Her life was ruined.

The sounds of people packing up had her crawling herself out of her own head. She mechanically packed her things up, gazing pathetically at her blank notebook. She made her way down the steps, eyeing the gaggle of students surrounding Marinette’s biggest missed opportunity to date. She was just about to walk straight out the door, resigning herself to her fate when she made a hasty decision. She turned to the dwindling crowd and marched like a woman on a mission. She wormed her away to stand directly in Tim’s line of sight and she braced herself for possibly her dumbest idea yet. She listened to the conversation going on and as soon as it appeared she was not going to interrupt anyone, she shot her hand out and grabbed him by his suit. The act caught everyone’s attention but before she could chicken out, she turned to leave and pulled the businessman along with her, leaving stunned silence behind. 

They didn’t get far out the door when he yanked her arm off him, stopping them in their tracks. He looked angry, confused but also very put out at her. Fair. 

“Why’d you do that?” 

“I— I don’t know.” His glare was intense. Marinette felt her face flush and her knees weaken. She wanted to make things right but it seemed she was only making things worse. She took a breath. Focus, she reminded herself. She just needed to address one problem at a time. “I mean, I do know why but I wasn’t supposed to do it like that. I just needed your attention.”

“Well now you have it. So what do you want?”

“I wanted to apologize. Not about dragging you out here. Yet. But for accidentally ignoring your apology email.” One of his eyebrows rose incredulously as she kept talking, but she ignored it and powered on. “It was, for some reason, in my spam mail and I didn’t see it. But if it’s any consolation, I would love it if you commissioned me for another suit. Or anything else really.” 

“Pardon?” He didn’t believe her, or was at least confused by her, that much she could tell.

“You suit. I made it. Here, look.” She turned her phone screen, showing him their conversations in her emails. At his slightly more relaxed posture she continued speaking. “I’m glad you like the suit.”

“Huh.”

“Also I’m sorry for dragging you out here.” She had curled her shoulders into her ears, still holding her phone out like an idiot. His chuckle in response eased her nerves only slightly. He had a cute laugh. And he was cute too. Bad thoughts! Stop getting distracted!

“Okay, I’ll accept your apology if you accept mine.” The carefree smile he threw at her was disarming. “And I would love to talk more about working with you, Ms. Cheng.”

“Marinette, please, Mr. Wayne.” She could breathe easier now, no longer on the verge of catastrophizing. “If you want to get started as early as possible, I’m free for an early lunch right now.”

“Only if you call me Tim. And lunch sounds great actually. I know a great bistro off campus if you will let me escort you.” He really needed to stop smiling at her like that. Her heart couldn’t take it.

“Sounds wonderful. Lead the way.” He turned and offered her his arm. She was slow to move, still faintly caught in the emotional whiplash of the morning. Her gentle grip on his bicep was enough for her to feel the muscle definition under the suit. It pleasantly surprised her but not nearly as much as his next words.

“Perfect. It’s a date.”

What?