#and he knows the best places to eat and drink in paris

[noneedtoamputate]

Hear me out: Five Easy Company men as the US Men's Olympic Gymnastics Team.

[bbokicidal]

where has the time gone? | [SKZ]

genre: angst pairing: skz ot8 x reader warnings: major character death in every scenario <- read at your own discretion

may flowers grow in the saddest parts of you.

1 year, 2 months, 14 days.

"Happy Valentine's Day." Chris coos as his hands gently tighten around the bouquet pressed into his chest. There's a soft silence that falls between the two of you and he can't help but smile, knowing it's unavoidable when he's at a loss for words - and he's the only one who can speak. "I brought you these. I remembered they were your favorite," the plastic crinkles under his fingertips, slowly moving to kneel down and hand the bouquet over. The damp grass of the early morning stains his jeans and yet he can't bring himself to care when the feeling is nothing compared to the overwhelming cold of not being able to hold you in his arms. His breathing is stuttered, shaky and warm as it leaves his lips. A hand places gently atop the heavy stone in front of him; Your name engraved with your birth - and death - date. Already over a year ago... "I wish you were here with me."

1 year, 27 days.

Minho's lip curls into his teeth and he bites down. He was grateful your mother let him in here whenever he needed it; Showing up with no warning only to be let in with warm hugs and soft welcomes, whispers that he could stay as long as he wanted. Your childhood bedroom was so... inexplicably you. Books, games, an old television, and lots of old knick knacks like a doll here and there or a blanket now stained with wear and tear. He knows your mother wouldn't mind if he touched things, moved stuff around or maybe even cleaned it up a little. But he wanted to leave it the way it was when you last touched everything. He felt that if he disturbed the peace the room brought him, your spirit would be gone for good. The closest he came was letting his back rest against your bedpost as he sat on the ground and took it all in, eyes swelling with tears. He knew he needed to stop coming here, stop disturbing your family with his presence, but he didn't want to let go.

1 year.

Changbin's hands wrap tight around the balcony railing. The metal was stained with the cold and it bit at his palms and fingertips, gnawing at him to let go. Though truth be told it didn't bother him at all - He was too busy overlooking the city lights surrounding his hotel room. He knew he'd be here a year ago today; But he was supposed to be here with you. On your anniversary together, celebrating and drinking wine, eating chocolates, tangling your limbs together in the bed and enjoying each other's presence in the city of love. But because he was stupid and offered to take you out for drinks later in the evening, a year ago today, you weren't here. The memory of the driver, intoxicated and bleary, ramming into the front of the company car makes his hands tighten around the railing in anger. Who was he to take you from him? What made him hate his life so much that he had to take another's instead? Changbin seethes on the instead, jaw clenched and tears pouring down soft cheeks usually filled with small smiles. He lets out a breath; slow, tired, pissed. But he knows that you would want him to enjoy his time in Paris even if he'd gone with the others because you weren't around anymore - so he'll do his best to relax and have fun while he can. Even if the overwhelming guilt is forever lingering.

10 months, 19 days.

"It hasn't even been a year and you're asking me to get over it." Hyunjin sobs as he pushes his palms into his eyes, fingers curled tight into fists and body wracking with his cries. "I can't just forget about them! I don't know what you - expect from me!" He can feel someone's arms wrap around him from his right and he knows immediately that it's Felix, curling up close to him and pressing his cheek into Hyunjin's shoulder with a frown. He knew Hyunjin was more angry than anything about your passing - knew that he wasn't ready to quit mourning just yet. But he couldn't keep letting it show during interviews, on stage, or during other performances. Hyunjin cried when he realized you weren't backstage to cheer him on at concerts, or had angry outbursts when anyone would talk about you and joke about things you use to say or do because he thought of it as them slandering your name even if it was a simple discussion. He couldn't stand people laughing at the memory of you because what was there to laugh at? You were dead. And with your passing, a part of him that was lighter, giggly and... happy - disappeared as well.

not yet corpses; still, we rot.

8 months, 4 days.

Jisung sits with his head down on the desk, arms thrown over the back of his head and fingers grasping hard at his hoodie sleeves. The song that plays over the studio speakers is one he had produced almost a year ago now; a softer melody, something close to "13" - a song you loved more than any of the songs that came out on their albums. He never told you - he never got the chance to - but he'd been making the song for you. Back then when you'd heard it there were no lyrics - just a sweet instrumental that made you feel like you should be dancing in a ballroom to the music, or like you belonged in a romance movie with the song playing in the background. But now... Now, he'd integrated the words he'd meant to say to you all along.

"If everything around seems dark, look again, you may be the light. (-Rumi)"

3 months, 5 days, 13 hours.

Felix's head felt heavy. Clouded. Dull. Broken. How long had he been on hiatus, now...? How long would it continue? Was he letting his fans down? Oh, right now he.. truthfully couldn't be bothered to care. As much as he adored them, everyone, he felt like he had to put himself first - even if it meant disappearing from the Earth for a few months so he could grieve the loss of his favorite person in the world. He'd returned home only a few days after it had happened, giving the boys little time to see him before he left for Australia to be away from the scene of the crime. He knew it was a freak accident, knew it never should have happened, but he also knew that if he had been two steps closer, an arm's length away - you might still be with him right now. Everything would be okay. You'd be back in the dorms cuddling or baking together, smacking each other with flour and making a mess so big even Seungmin couldn't fathom it. Or maybe, if he'd been too close to you in that moment, both of you would be gone. He shouldn't be thinking it, but... maybe that would have been better than living in a world without you.

27 days.

Seungmin wasn't sure how to feel. He was one of the group members known for being quiet, minding his own business and being a bit stoic compared to the others. But this behavior was... new. The way his jaw clenched at every mention of your name, or the way his body tensed and his hands curled into fists when he saw pictures of you. He felt an overwhelming frustration each time someone brought you up in conversation, feeling as though speaking about it would make him relive the memory of seeing the moment your body collapsed into nothing. Seungmin hated everyone who spoke about you even if it was in a positive light because he didn't want them to keep bringing you up - every mention of your name made his heart tighten in his chest until it felt like he was suffocating. And it pained him even more that people thought he wasn't grieving. Because he wasn't openly crying in public or speaking about you to the masses of media. He saw the way people spoke about him online, calling him a liar, a fake; Saying his love for you was never real. So in dealing with all of his emotions, Seungmin went home every night and laid in his bed, face buried down into his pillow. He let it build up, let the tears finally flow from his eyes, and screamed into the memory foam so loud that Felix could hear it from the next room over while gaming. He'd sob into the pillow until his throat was raw, curling up around himself and pulling his blanket over his head. People were talking about you, and now about him, too. And he didn't know how to handle it.

16 hours.

Jeongin sat in silence, but his head screamed every fews seconds for him to do something. There, on the couch in his dorm, Jeongin sat stiff with his hands digging into his knees as Chan sat nearby - rubbing gently over his back and quietly talking about how they could make arrangements, celebrate your life even if you were gone; But Jeongin heard none of it. His ears were ringing; a constant, nonstop screech that pained him to sit through, all while his thoughts were whirling around in his head like a raging dust storm that clouded all other thoughts of peace and contentedness. Get up. Go to them. Go to the hospital. Go identify them even if it's not your place. Get up. Go to the hospital. Get up. Get up. Go to them. Go to them. Go. Anywhere. Away. Go away. Go away.

He choked, and Chan stopped talking. He watched as Jeongin's eyes finally welled with tears. It was one of the only times Chan had seen Jeongin so emotional with tears pooling down his face in heavy streams of grief, his chest jerking with every breath until he was breaking down in his Hyung's arms and allowing himself to be held. Even if he went to you, you wouldn't be there. You wouldn't be smiling at him, greeting him with sparkling eyes. He would never see you again. He would never hear your voice again. And how was he supposed to live with that?

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

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@jeonginsleftcheek

[fishfission-dc]

Batfamily Powerpoint Night! (Part 10: Alfred)

<<Part 9: Barbara 

[Masterlist]

Alfred: Actually, I have prepared something I would like you all to see.

Bruce: Oh lord...

[collective sigh]

Alfred: I have noticed that many of you are electing not to return used dishes to their proper location to be washed. 

Barbara: Oooh... that one’s on me, sorry Alfred.

Alfred: Miss Gordon, I trust you not to spill anything on the computer console, but I still think it best not to have open beverages in the presence of... other company.

Dick: Is he talking about-

Tim: Yeah he’s talking about us.

Bruce: Hn.

Steph: Only Bruce does this, Alfred, I promise.

Alfred: I am well aware, Miss Brown. 

Bruce: ...sorry.

Duke: How do you not spill anything using mugs in the Batmobile?

Cass: (signing) Impressive.

Jason: Okay, this one has to be Dick.

Dick: ...That’s probably me.

Tim: A teacup? A teacup and its saucer??

Dick: I was already drinking it at the time-

Alfred: Just bring it back next time.

Steph: HA

Damian: ...They like the-

Alfred: I highly doubt the dogs have a preference of plates.

Damian: ...understood.

Jason: WHICH ONE OF YOU-

Tim: STEPH. STEPH THAT IS YOUR BELT.

Steph: I CAN EXPLAIN

Barbara: Steph why is a mug in your-

Steph: I BRING THE MUGS HOME AND I PUT THEM IN MY BELT TO REMEMBER TO BRING THEM BACK TO ALFRED BUT THEN I FORGET

Duke: How many mugs are in your belt right now? 

Steph: ...

Dick: Steph.

Steph: A couple...

Alfred: Three. I checked twenty minutes ago.

Steph: ...Sorry Alfred.

Tim: ...Okay-

Dick: Tim. How on Earth-

Steph: HOW IS THIS ANY WORSE THAN ME KEEPING MUGS IN MY BELT

Tim: Sometimes I save time by eating in the shower!

Jason: That is like... a family sized tupperware container.

Damian: Drake, this is no longer efficiency, it is insanity. 

Tim: ...Sorry Alfred.

Bruce: ...how-

Barbara: Cass... Cass this has to be you.

Cass: (signing) ...Sorry.

Steph: Honestly I’m not surprised by this.

Duke: Are we not concerned that Alfred’s been repeatedly climbing into the rafters to collect these dishes?

Alfred: Oh it’s not the furthest length I’ve gone for you all...

Bruce: I may have left a serving dish at the Kents’ apartment in Metropolis, I apologize.

Tim: I don’t think I left anything in San Francisco... or Nanda Parbat.

Dick: TAMARAN?! I’m probably responsible for New York and Bludhaven, but that one was NOT me.

Jason: Ooooh, yeah... uh... that was probably me...

Steph: You left a tupperware container on Tamaran?!

Jason: And maybe... other places... I keep forgetting to bring them home.

Damian: How many of these locations are you responsible for, Todd?

Jason: Uh... definitely Star City and Tamaran... and Miami... Paris... and Washington, Hong Kong... maybe also Nanda Parbat. Oh, and I definitely left a cup in San Francisco...

Barbara: Oh my god.

Jason: ...Sorry Alf. Won’t happen again.

Alfred: I’m glad you appreciate the leftovers, Master Jason, but yes, please return the dishware.

Duke: Oh that’s definitely my bad... Sorry Alfred.

Alfred: It’s alright, my dear boy, you didn’t know.

Bruce: ...how long has that been the system?

Dick: Probably not long... I definitely didn’t do that as a kid...

Jason: Definitely changed while I was dead...

Alfred: That has been the system for 42 years, I would appreciate if all of you started adhering to it.

[a chorus of “Sorry, Alfred” as they retrieve their dishes, thus ending Powerpoint Night. The end.]

<<Part 9: Barbara

[Masterlist]

[nalyra-dreaming]

COMMENTS on 2x07 - SPOILERS

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . *FIRST OFF: GOD HAVE I CRIED *No breath, no relief, all the pain This… contains a lot of swearing. . . . . . . .

The fucking rat box - there is a significant time gap between Claudia being shoved in there and her on stage. I BET that will become "that" time frame later, when Armand.... finally gets to it.

Btw, the iron boxes... an iron entrapment. I'm not sure if deliberate, but there is a piece of lore from Blood Communion that could come into play here IF they should pick it up again, later on

I’m glad they made the mental influence clear right away. Like… it’s not even subtle. And Lestat acting weird AF isn’t subtle either. It’s clear. It’s scripted. It’s the “last play”. It’s been “designed, and rehearsed.”

The Achilles’ heel slashed is so… vicious

Louis sensing and smelling Lestat… oh honey

Like that they referred to “the old place” for the other theater

Them making him swear on her diary is sooooo…💀

Santiago is so PLEASED when Lestat returns to script lol… we don’t see it but I wonder how many of the jury it took

A story of love... 💀

They are using the music box music … the fuckers

Awwww Armand being “punished” to watch… nawwwwww glad Daniel is not buying it either... and by Sam, the playwright... with a scythe... nawww. Okay, everybody buying that after that little restaurant display raise their hands, lmao.

That Lestat sleeping in the dirt is just... wrong. We already KNOW he returned to Paris twice. Another hint!!!

The repeated hint at the “ancient blood”… very on the nose

Their eye contact

Them trying to make it seem as if Louis “hunted” Lestat… lmao. As if Louis could have if Lestat would not have wanted him to????

Santiago prompting Lestat…. they seem to have pushed the narrative into his mind

on a random note: the blue contacts look so much better this season???

Oh…. Lestat SNAPPING at “fags” - loved it - so fantastically intense and creepy

“where lies their disgust now”?

Lestat making that man feel what he feels - WHY didn’t you just show this to Louis?????

THE HAIR CHANGED!!! There is that strand again! And the perfect hair in other scenes!!! INFLUENCED!! Manipulated!! I’ve been fucking saying.

OOOOHHHHH MY GOD Claudia’s turning … Louis knowing about the laws, did Louis really promise to stay???? I mean that’s just bargaining, and Louis just… begging… oh god, AND THEN THE FUCKING CUT TO ARMAND’s LOOK OH YOU FUCKER

“you were manipulated into it”… yeah. Say it, Santiago

God. Lestat there. And Louis the way he sees him.

Lestat confirming that Louis did not share affection with him anymore, as said, for years

Yeah, no, Lestat’s pose there for the Antoinette reveal is totally… natural 💀

God, Claudia cackling at Lestat saying “she’s the best of my vampiric self”… 😭

Ep5 revisit. Uhhhhh boy did they expand on what we already knew. And I KNEW something happened in the coffin room that made Lestat snap!! I KNEW IT! Okay, they kept the weird logistics of the fall (for now at least), but… yeah. This makes at least… more sense than before, I guess. Also, Lestat fully breaking script and admitting it. KNOWING he had hurt Louis there. Knowing. (I still stand by the Amel theory for the outside part and the comment in 1x06. Since they are taking from Prince Lestat….)

“A wolf congratulated for not killing her pup”!!!!!!!!

Louis is wearing something other than black again!!!!

“and then - something real” - and Armand chiming in… how… inconspicuous 💅🏼

A Stoning. Indeed.

I’m not sure how much I believe of them waking Lestat tbh… like... with the supposed trial rehearsals... and the crossing over... nawwwww

That eating blood with a spoon is so… inefficient. Like, they drink so much more???? What kind of blood is that to savor it like that? Must be special??? Or it's just show.

Oh god. Madeleine choosing Claudia. She is my coven. God.

Ugh. Lestat breaking script for Claudia. AND BY GOD I HOPE CLAUDIA FULFILLS THAT PROMISE

Oohhhhwwwwwww and Armand working SO HARD ON SAVING LOUIS!!!!! YOU LITTLE…. GNAAAHHHHH I don’t even have a word. "bites something"

God the pebbles/rocks. The entombment. And the SAME stones at the Dubai tree…

Lestat, swaying on his feet

So. Armand tells us of Claudia facing her death bravely. And defiantly. And the stare of shock and pain on Lestat’s face. Armand… the last to know the truth… for now. -.-

PREVIEW

And Armand getting Louis out.. afterwards. When… the coven did not care anymore, right??????? Mh hmmm.

Louis getting their asses

Louis going to kill Lestat??? MHHHH

EPISODE INSIDER

"it’s a fake setup - props in a play". Yeah. THAT.

Claudia doesn’t give an inch - "she knows she’s right"

“She has Lestat’s blood - if they do anything, it’s come back with a vengeance”!!!!!!!!!!! YES PLEASE 😭

Claudia’s death represents Louis’ last connection to this world

“[Claudia] was a brilliant vampire.

IN - fucking - DEED

God, what an episode.

I am... somewhat irritated that the reshot the turning and did not really revisit murder night, because the discrepancies there still stand. Except they have always intended to return to it in s3, which might make sense. Still. A bit weird, all of it. And Lestat breaking out of the control and script to admit to hurting Louis. 😭

God.

[sungbeam]

𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐬

model!choi chanhee x fem!assistant!reader

you were just supposed to be his assistant, but at some point, you'd come to mean a lot more to him.

6.4k words (WHOOPS my hand slipped), technically s2l, fluff, angst if u squint, slight pining?, kissing, model stuff and first world problems 😔✨, like one curse word, barely proofread

a/n: istg it wasn't supposed to be like this ;-; it would have been longer but i got impatient </3

Choi Chanhee once made a girl cry because she had forgotten his phone in the car. In his defense, he hadn't gotten much shuteye the night prior, but Kevin liked to always remind him of that instance.

They said that was the first, true moment the tabloids began painting him in a new light.

'Choi Chanhee, Model-zilla, Hits the Streets of Paris for Fashion Week Once Again'. 'Choi Chanhee's Ex-assistants Come Forward with Shocking Experiences'. 'Satin or Silk: the Truth Behind New's Refusal to Wear Alexander McQueen'.

The last one didn't even make sense; Alexander McQueen only used silk, anyway, and Chanhee had walked in one of his shows a few years ago. Chanhee simply hadn't the time to pen the designer into his schedule since.

The one about assistants? Well, they were all entitled to free speech, but that didn't mean that he would spare them any mercy if they decided to blatantly lie about him. He could always trust Lee Sangyeon, his personal attorney, to take care of business, if and when any of his ex-employees decided that a good payout was comparable to spewing filth.

Then there was you.

Chanhee hadn't needed a new assistant in a little over half a year since you came along. Fresh out of university with a bachelor's in communication and punctuality, you waltzed into his life, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. You'd sat across from him, no-nonsense; he hired you right there. (He had not regretted it since. This was the last time he would let anyone but himself do the interview process.)

The best part about you was not that you always had his schedule memorized before he did, or that you appeared at his apartment before the car picked you both up with his favorite coffee order, or that you actually had decent taste in perfume—not… that he paid attention to what perfume you wore—but it was the fact that you could look him in the eye when he spoke to you, and you to him.

"—and you have a fitting with Chanel at five o'clock this evening right after that meeting with Maison Margiela about the perfume line. We'll have just enough time to—"

Wow, your eyes were pretty in this lighting, he thought. The two of you sat before the massive, floor-to-ceiling window in his penthouse apartment. The entire city laid sprawling at your feet while you sat across from each other at his breakfast table, eating blueberry muffins and drinking lattes.

And for some reason, all he could think about was how nice your hair looked again today, how brilliantly the shine in your eyes was from the sunlight, how impeccable your fashion sense was—even if it wasn't perfect, but that could easily be remedied. Chanhee would have to remind you to remind him to—

"Chanhee. Chanhee, are you listening to me?"

He snapped out with a flutter of his long eyelashes. He reached for his cup of coffee, delicately bringing it to his lips. "Hm? Of course, Maison and then Chanel. Did Changmin cancel our dinner or are we still on?"

A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips when he saw how your expression lightened knowing that he was paying attention. You idly stirred your latte around with a little silver spoon. "He says he's still good to go for tonight. Same place, same time."

A nod. "Good."

He nudged up the Prada sunglasses on his nose as he turned his head slightly to gaze out the open window. It was an awfully beautiful day out today. The sunlight was gentle, the skies were an azure wave of silk, sewn with clouds of white. "Yn, dearest, are we clear until the Maison meeting?"

You blinked. "Yes," you answered, checking your watch for the hour, "it's 10:32 right now."

"Mm, that gives us about five hours to refresh your wardrobe."

Your lips parted, and he smiled in amusement. There was something so adorable about your flustered state. "Excuse me?"

"Call it a little token of my appreciation," he sang, standing up from the table to deposit his empty plate and cup into the kitchen sink. "Could you call the driver to round the front?"

"Oh, uh, sure—"

"Thanks, love. I'll be back in a few," he called to you just as he disappeared into his bedroom to freshen up. You were left at the breakfast table, dumbfounded. You'd only ever gone shopping with Chanhee for him or for someone else. Not you. You were always on the clock when you were with him, and you figured he would probably take everything you bought today out of your paycheck, but…

You couldn't deny the flutter of excitement in your chest like the wings of a butterfly. This could either be the best thing that happened to you… or a complete shitshow.

There was something odd about walking into one of Chanhee's go-to leisure shopping stores—Dior—with the mindset that you were supposed to be shopping for yourself. Chanhee had asked the driver to pull up to the Dior storefront even as the regular paparazzi camped outside.

Your eyes gazed longingly at the Macy's across the mall.

Chanhee followed your gaze with a little scrunch of his nose. "Absolutely not," he clicked his tongue, dragging you out of the vehicle and to the sidewalk.

The press already dubbed you a "miracle" for being in his employ for longer than a day. But when they got shots of him literally hauling you into the Dior… you could imagine what they would all claim now. This was going to be a whole lot of cleanup, but you had learned after months of working with Chanhee that he was way tougher than he looked. He also didn't mind biting back.

When the two of you were safely stowed away within the guarded interior of Dior, you breathed easier.

Straightening, you greeted the staff members with a shallow bow, who did the same to both you and your boss.

Chanhee wiggled his fingers in silent greeting, then beelined for a white, quilted blazer on a mannequin. A worker scrambled after him to talk about the piece while another stuck by your side to make small conversation.

"How was your morning?" They asked you pleasantly.

"Oh, it was quite nice! How was yours?"

"Pretty quiet," they smiled. They were about to say something else when both of you were interrupted with Chanhee calling your name.

His eyes were pinned to you from over the rim of his sunglasses. Draped over his arm was a tapered coat of some sort, a dress, and… oh, god no. "Yn, come here."

You could already hear your wallet crying. "Chanhee, I literally cannot afford a single thing in here—"

He pressed a palm between your shoulder blades and steered you in the direction of the dressing rooms. "That's besides the point because I can afford them; that's what matters."

Surprise made your footing falter. "Huh?"

"Silly Yn-ie," he teased, "did you think I was gonna bring you all the way out here to not treat you?" Before you could say anything else, he was shoving the items into your arms, and your body into the grandiose space of the Dior dressing room. He winked over his glasses. "Now hurry and put them on. I wanna see!"

He ripped the curtain closed, and you stood there for a moment.

In your hands were the jacket, the dress, and a pair of shoes that probably cost you more than your entire bank account combined. You blew out a puff of air, just as you heard a staff member offer him a glass of champagne on the other side of the curtain.

"No getting out of this, Yn," you muttered to yourself, then began hanging everything up."

Chanhee was no stranger to the effect he had on people. In fact, he wielded it like a dagger. It was how he had gotten so far in this industry in the first place other than his immaculate good looks, of course. The face of an angel and an attitude of the devil—at least, that was what one article had said about him. He quite liked it, actually.

There was something wholly different about his effect on you as you stood beneath his scrutinizing, heated gaze, as you tried on piece upon piece. He loved being able to unabashedly stare at you, to take in your flustered expression as you did little spins for him in the outfit of choice. For once, you couldn't look him in the eye, and when you had done so once, it had been when his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

It wasn't just the champagne he was tasting.

It was the next morning when you appeared in his home at 7 o'clock sharp, as usual, but with a new accessory hanging off your arm. It was one of the more low-key purses he had bought you yesterday—and to be honest, it was actually one of his personal favorites. It was a Chanel one, of course, and it complimented your pant suit quite nicely.

"Morning," you chirped, handing him his cup of coffee as he stumbled out of his room in a silk robe and with a yawn widening his mouth.

Chanhee smiled at the sight of you, graciously accepting the coffee from you. He leaned against the countertop next to you. "Good morning," he murmured lowly, peering at you over the rim of the cup, taking a languid sip.

He sighed as the caffeine began working its magic. "How are you this morning, dearest? Have a good night?"

You had set your purse down on the island, then moved away from him only to go check his refrigerator to see if he needed anything restocked. Always so attentive. "I had a good night. How was dinner with Changmin?"

"Lovely," he said fondly. "I see you are putting my gifts to use." His fingers danced along the gold chain draped along one end of the quilted leather.

He swore your cheeks flushed, but then again, his eyes had never tricked him for a second. "Ah, yes. Thank you so much for yesterday, by the way." The fridge closed softly, and you grabbed an apple from the basket on the counter to wash and munch on. "I really don't know how I can repay you—"

Chanhee dismissed you immediately, his wrist flicking outward. "Pfft, none of that. I told you it was all a token of my affection," he grinned, propping his chin onto his palm across the island counter from you. "And gratitude," he added. "I don't say this to just anyone, Yn, and I don't buy just anyone all that stuff—but I did it because I appreciate you."

Your chewing slowed and you swallowed. "Oh."

He said it so easily. God, was he lucky to have met you.

Knowing he had successfully rendered you speechless once more, he laughed lightly, deciding to change the subject. "What's today's schedule like?"

You immediately straightened; this was something you knew like the back of your hand. It was much more up your alley.

As you ran him through his activities today, you failed to notice the difference in his posture, the softer smile on his face, and the way his eyes could not leave you for a moment, not even to drink his coffee.

Grueling was an understatement. Today had been one of the worst days of your working existence under Chanhee's employ. You'd endured rough days and nights before, but today, it seemed to have been hassle after hassle after hassle. You probably got around thirty-thousand steps by how much you ran around trying to find emergency kits and emergency outfits and running to the emergency dry cleaner's.

As much as the fashion world enthralled you, sometimes you wondered how anyone could survive it.

Chanhee was just as maxed out as you were by the end. It was maybe three in the morning by the time the two of you collapsed into the backseat of his driver's car. Streets were barren at this time in the ungodly hours of morning, and your joints ached every time you breathed.

Chanhee was quiet as well as he leaned his head back against the headrest to allow his body some rest. He just barely managed to get through that last shoot—clearly the directors had no clue what they were doing, he thought with a dead look in his eyes. That was how he felt—dead. If it hadn't been for you swooping in with a creative direction…

You were brilliant; that much he was certain of. Without you, that shoot might have dragged on for another couple of hours, or Chanhee would have just walked out. Usually, he had a good sense and eye for things, but with everything that happened today, for once, he didn't have the energy to yell or direct.

He needed to treat you to brunch tomorrow, if he was even able to wake up in time—

His inner thoughts halted when he felt a sudden weight fall upon his left shoulder. He froze up.

Your head had slumped onto his shoulder, eyes closed and no doubt deep asleep. Your bangs had fallen out from the bounds of your ponytail and draped across your face as you slept. He could smell the Miss Dior on you with this proximity.

Chanhee smiled to himself, taking his other hand and brushing the hair from your face and gently caressing your cheek. "Cute," he murmured.

By the time the car rolled to a stop in front of his complex, Chanhee had made a couple of executive decisions.

He lightly roused you from your sleep, cooing into your ear, "Come on, Yn-ie. Let's get you to bed, hm?"

You hummed, lifting your head from his shoulder with a yawn. You rubbed your eye with no care for the makeup smudging. "Chanhee? Why're you still here?"

Normally, the driver would drop Chanhee off first and then you, especially when it came to late nights like this. But… what… was happening?

Chanhee helped you out of the car, thanking the driver while mustering up a kind smile for him. "You're too tired, love. I'm taking you upstairs to my place."

"Wait, I can't—" but you weren't physically protesting; your body ached and ached and ached. But this was your boss, your employer. This wasn't professional.

"Yn, you're exhausted," he countered, buzzing into the building and helping you inside.

You couldn't argue with him anymore. You just wanted your face to hit a pillow and be out for the night. "Okay," you mumbled, letting him press your face into his shoulder on the ride up the elevator.

"Good girl," he sighed. He tilted his head back against the elevator wall, one arm wrapped around your middle and the other cradling the back of your head. Just a little longer, then the both of you could finally get some well-deserved rest.

You would argue you had seen Choi Chanhee at some of his best and worst moments. He was one of the most beautiful human beings on this planet, and yet, none of the prior moments could even compare to when you stumbled out of his bedroom to the sight of his back to you as he fried eggs and ladled waffle batter into the maker in the kitchen. He had a big T-shirt hanging from his lean frame, as well as a pair of loose pajama pants on, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for everything to cook.

Even at ten in the morning, the light pink waves of his hair looked immaculately styled. You almost forgot he hadn't gotten a perm in awhile.

The panic of waking up in his sheets instead of yours had faded when you recalled your conversation with him just seven hours prior. He had managed to wrestle you into an extra set of sleepwear he just had lying around (Gucci, nonetheless), before he deposited you onto his bed, then promptly curled up outside on the living room couch.

You swallowed. Now what?

It was then that Chanhee turned around with an innocent look on his face. You watched as it melted into something softer at the sight of you. "Good morning, dearest," he beamed, "sleep well?"

Drowsiness lingered at the corners of your eyes, but you somehow managed a nod. "Yeah, how about you?" You asked him quietly. Actually, that had been some of the best sleep you'd ever had. Something about his sheets with high thread count and the smell of Chanhee lingering on everything. But you weren't just about to say that to him.

"Well enough," he replied. He waved you over. "Come sit; breakfast is almost ready."

Your eyes widened a smidge. That was for you? Now you really needed to go home. "Ah, I appreciate it, but I've practically overstayed my welcome—"

He sent you a look. "Yn, come have breakfast with me."

You caved. Because at this point, you'd already screwed yourself over. And breakfast really did smell nice; what was the difference between Chanhee making you breakfast and you bringing him breakfast from the café down the street?

(You didn't even want to go home, as much as your logical brain was trying to urge you towards.)

So the two of you breakfasted, and for a moment, you could forget, for once, that you were just supposed to be his assistant.

Some things changed after that morning, and Chanhee found himself getting you to stay over more and more often. Even if he had to come up with something stupid like "You haven't watched the 2001 New York Fashion Week rerun?" For some reason, you bought into all his excuses, and even though he knew it was probably because you were always attentive to his needs, a part of him liked to fantasize that you felt it, too.

The pull.

Something had shifted after that morning when he made you breakfast and the two of you ate together at the breakfast table. Sleep had lingered in your eyes, and your hair was a mess, but it was soft and beautiful and… he'd never been so in awe at someone's "I woke up like this" look.

His heart had leapt at the sight of you in those pajamas with that subtle pout to your lips.

God, he thought he might sweep you into his arms and kiss y—

"New. Chanhee. Choi Chanhee—"

He blinked, lifting his eyes from his menu to meet Changmin's. "Hm?"

Changmin wrinkled his nose at him, adjusting the sunglasses seated atop his head to hang from the collar of his dress shirt. (How it managed to hang with two buttons popped open, Chanhee chalked it up to fashion magic.) "You're awfully quiet today. What, tabloids finally shut you up?" He joked.

Chanhee rolled his eyes. "One of these days, I swear, they will render me speechless with their ridiculous delusions," he muttered airily, half-heartedly skimming the menu again.

He and Changmin were seated at their usual booth in their usual restaurant at their usual time. It was their weekly dinner together, something they had kept up since their university days in order to keep themselves grounded. They, of course, touched base with all of their university friends often, but the two of them were two peas in a pod. They even refused to let Sunwoo in on these weekly dinners specifically (something the younger friend was undoubtedly salty about).

Changmin could figure out when Chanhee was occupied with something other than the present. Usually, he was all up and out of his seat dealing out gossip or what torture he and you had been… oh.

Changmin cocked his head to the side, nostrils flaring slightly as he tried and failed to suppress a sly smile. "How's Yn these days?" He asked nonchalantly, lowering his eyes to the menu in front of him even though he always got the same thing every time.

To his credit, Chanhee didn't even react. "She's lovely as always. Why do you ask?"

"I dunno," Changmin drawled, "you haven't gushed about her like you usually do. I feel like you hang out with her more than me."

Chanhee raised a brow at his friend. "She's my assistant; of course I'm going to spend more time with her."

"Yeah, but—"

"And she's a lot more agreeable most of the time."

"Hey!"

Chanhee grinned in impish delight. "You asked."

Changmin sent him a stink eye, huffing as he raised his hand up to summon a waiter. "Yeah, whatever. Okay, but you literally refused to go out with me the other night, and when I texted Yn if you had a schedule, she said that you two were at home!"

That got his attention. Chanhee pursed his lips together, sheepishness peering through his smile. "In my defense, she hadn't seen New York Fashion Week in 2001."

"You hated that year, Chanhee."

"Exactly."

Changmin sighed to himself, and just as he was about to add on, a waiter came by to take their order. Once that was done, Changmin laced his fingers over the table and leveled his friend with a pointed look.

"Just admit that you like her."

Oh, Changmin. If only you could hear the rapid palpitations of his heart when you called him out like that. Chanhee blinked innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he swallowed.

It wasn't even two days later that Chanhee had you staying a little later at his place, once again. There was something jazzy and vibey playing in the background, while Chanhee finished up plating dinner and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. You were over at the small table by the window pouring wine into twin glasses, your hair pulled haphazardly out of your face (for the most part) with a pearl-studded claw clip from Chanhee's personal PR box.

(You blatantly refused, but he then reminded you that he couldn't even use the clip himself.)

Chanhee didn't often think about sharing his life with someone, but it was moments like these—moments when he heard you hum under your breath, moments when the two of you could laugh about the day over dinner, moments when you weren't just his assistant but someone closer—that he could indulge himself. He wasn't a very domestic person; since childhood, he dreamed of places far away from home, seeing sights and experiencing cultures… but if he could come home to you? And experience this every time?

Suddenly dinner was over, and you were collecting dirty dishware and glasses to bring to the sink to wash.

"Yn-ie, hey, I can wash those—"

"No, no! You made dinner; I am washing dishes," you asserted, pushing him away from the sink when he tried to come up to you.

Chanhee broke into a laugh, coming up behind you to set his hands on your shoulders and rub the upper parts of your arms. "Okay, okay. Thanks, love," he said. He didn't even think before he pressed a kiss to your cheek and walked off to go to the bathroom.

Your cheek tingled where his lips had been, and you turned the faucet on to drown out the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears. What was happening?

You felt like you were floating on air as you hummed to the music and washed the dishes, with the ghost of Chanhee's lips left lingering on your cheek. It served as a reminder of your growing affections for him. This was dangerous, dangerous territory, and yet… it was thrilling. It was new, bold, and delectable. It was Chanhee, for goodness sake.

He was the man you saw crying drunkenly over a cat video on TikTok, the man who lended you Gucci pajamas and his bed for the night. He was on the face of every magazine cover, always excited when you could read his mind about a certain piece of clothing. Everyone in the world wanted to be him or be with him. He was so out of reach, yet right in front of you.

Maybe it was the wine making your head buzz with this wave of unmitigated sentimentality.

You finished up with the dishes, drying off your hands with the towel hanging on the oven door. Chanhee sang your name out from somewhere deep inside his bedroom, and you followed his voice to his location.

He was seated on the rug in the middle of his walk-in closet, the white LEDs washing you with light. It was a far cry from the darkness of his bedroom and the warmth from the kitchen. Chanhee patted the spot next to him on the carpet, where he had a smattering of PR gifts littering the floor around him.

Curious, you lowered yourself next to him. "Are we sorting through PR stuff?" You asked, already making a mental catalog of all the things he'd probably want to keep and the things he'd want to donate.

Chanhee hummed his dissent, rising onto his knees and shuffling over to you. Your eyes widened as he stopped close to you and you held your breath. He raised a pair of twin diamond drop earrings from Tiffany and Co to your earlobes, eyes narrowed in consideration.

"No," he muttered, dumping the earrings into their box, then digging out another.

You scrambled to delicately put the earrings back into their proper holdings. "Chanhee, what are we doing?"

"You—" Chanhee returned with a pair of sapphire earrings this time, performing the same ritual as before, but this time smiling, "—are going to sit still and look pretty for me. I am going through the PR stuff for anything nice."

"Anything nice?" You parroted in disbelief. It wasn't like he just threw a pair of diamond earrings into a box like it wasn't nice, or anything.

"I've never seen you in pearls before," he said offhandedly. From a black velvet bag, he withdrew a string of pearls clasped at the end in gold. His mouth parted in awe, and you suddenly thought of how cute he looked. Chanhee, oftentimes, was attractive and elegant and spellbinding—but this Chanhee was adorable.

He eyeballed it around your neck, then moved to clasp the collar onto you. He brushed the stray strands of hair away from the nape of your neck, gently grazing the pads of his fingers along the warm skin there. The action sent a shudder down your spine, and you were reminded of the cheek kiss from earlier.

"There," he murmured, coming back around to inspect you from the front. "Looks much better on you than it would on me."

You scoffed, reaching up to touch the cool pearls seated on your collarbone. "I disagree wholeheartedly."

He had turned around to go digging again, but the grin he threw over his shoulder at you was a certified heart stopper. "Then we'll just have to go get me a matching one."

"This is the last time I'm letting a company get me lunch," Chanhee grimaced as both you and he feverishly dabbed at the sauce splattered on his cream silk blouse.

One of the interns working on today's interview and shoot had come to deliver him his lunch when you noticed that the sauce lid on top was a dark red and not the usual light mayo Chanhee always requested beforehand. That, as well as the fact that the lid wasn't fastened all the way. Suffice to say that when you were about to point it out, said intern became flustered at Chanhee's side profile and spilled his lunch onto him.

You made sure to send the intern away before Chanhee could react.

"This was the Burberry one Haknyeonie got me," he whimpered in devastation as he took in the mess of dark brownish-red on his chest.

"Hey, it's okay. The cleaner I usually go to can fix it up," you said, biting your lip and assessing the situation. You gave a sigh, straightening, then swiping at the dampness on your forehead. "For now, you'll have to change into something else."

Chanhee pouted. "I promised I would wear this one for the interview…" He glanced back over at the clothing rack in the far corner of the dressing room at the dozens of options he had, as well as the backups you had brought, when all he wanted was to wear the shirt Haknyeon had given to him.

You wondered how long you had until the interview. You wondered how fast you could run to the dry cleaners and how fast they could fix this, if only to make that pout on Chanhee's face go away.

He pursed his lips. "I'll change into the YSL one," he resolved, standing from his vanity chair to go grab the YSL blouse from its garment bag. "Y'know," he said to you as he disappeared behind the changing divider, "we'll probably see something about this in the tabloids sometime tomorrow, depending on how bored the press people are."

You leaned back against the vanity counter, mentally noting the time. Hair and makeup would be here soon since the interview was set for half past noon. Chanhee would have to wait until afterwards before he could eat lunch. You frowned, "It wasn't your fault, Chanhee."

"I know." You saw him drape the dirtied Burberry blouse over the top of the divider and you walked over to take it down and inspect the damage yourself. "But it doesn't have to be my fault."

Unfortunately, he was right. The press would do anything for a juicy story, even if that meant twisting the facts just a little. You abhorred those stories; you always saw Chanhee's eyes glaze over like a shield at the "model-zilla" headlines, when in fact, it had little to do with Chanhee's "attitude". You wondered if someone would blow up his reaction to this out of proportion—he hadn't said anything to the intern before they ran out of the room in tears, but you supposed if you had spilled coffee on someone with as much name power as Chanhee, then you would also freak out.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly, leaning slightly against the divider. A weight sank into the pit of your gut; you felt pathetic. These were one of the few things you couldn't just fix for him.

You thought you felt him lean back against the divider on the other side. "Nothing to be sorry for, dearest. It's just a shirt."

It wasn't just a shirt. It wasn't just the tabloids.

Chanhee, being the professional he was, carried on through the interview and subsequent photoshoot with elegance and grace. He wasn't in a bad mood, save for the slight melancholy in his smile when the intern's superior came by to apologize profusely and offer to have the blouse dry-cleaned for him. Chanhee politely declined—he only trusted one person with his items.

When you and Chanhee finally made it back to his penthouse suite, the sun had disappeared into the seams of the horizon, hoisting a bejeweled night into the sky. Chanhee collapsed onto the couch face-first while you dropped everything on the floor by the door and made a beeline for the refrigerator.

"I'm making tea," you declared.

Chanhee raised his head slightly. "Me too please."

You got the electric kettle started and brought out two porcelain mugs. While you waited for the water to finish boiling, you fished your phone out of your pocket to check your messages to see if the dry cleaners had alerted you yet as to the status of the blouse. On the way back, you had swung by to get the shirt to the dry cleaners. Hopefully it would be done by tomorrow morning so you could go pick it up.

Chanhee shifted and adjusted his positioning on the couch. He sat upright, leaning his cheek against his fist. "Yn-ie."

"Hm?"

"I'm lonely over here."

You huffed air out of your nostrils in a silent chuckle, but obliged him and went over to the couch. He raised his arms up toward you, making grabby hands and pouting. "You're lonely?" You repeated in amusement, slotting yourself next to him and allowing him to curl into your side.

"Well, not anymore," he said into your shoulder.

The apartment filled with the sound of water bubbling on the stove and the muffled sounds of the city outside the window.

With nothing said, you could imagine for a second that this was not your job, but your life instead.

You felt him move a little, his arms wrapping around your stomach. "Thank you," he murmured, "for everything."

Your chest tightened. "Of course," you replied simply. Because doing all of this for him was as easy as breathing air now. Taking care of him had become as easy as breathing air. It was just that simple.

He was quiet again, fingers fidgeting with the cuffs of your blazer. Something lingered in his mind.

"Yn…" He slowly brought himself to sit up straight, one hand braced on the cushion space between your bodies and the other on the back of the couch. His face was so close—you could see the baby pink hairs falling in his eyes, the bits of glitter on his eyelids, the length of his lashes brushing his cheeks. But there was something wobbling, shimmering in his irises like the ripples in a pool of water. "I think we need to talk."

Your voice was trapped in your throat. He was going to fire you. He was going to tell you that all of it had been a lie. He was going to—stop. Stop freaking out. You knew him. You knew him better than what the people on the outside only claimed to know about him. You gulped. "Okay."

Chanhee brought his hand up toward your face, but instead stopped short, his hand dropping. He wet his lip, head ducking for a second before meeting your eyes again. "You know how much I appreciate everything you do for me, right?"

Oh no.

You nodded shallowly, hands clasped in your lap. "Mhm."

"And you know that I would rather hurt myself before ever hurting you?"

You didn't like where this was going. "Chanhee—"

His eyes shuddered. "Just—just listen for a second. I promise I'll let you speak, just… I just need to get this out."

"I can't really think straight," you croaked. His cologne—god his cologne. You would die suffocating in his cologne, but he was so close and yet so out of reach.

You thought you saw hurt flash across his face. "Oh. Uh, I'm sorry—" He was leaning back now, and you were internally hitting yourself. You'd never heard Choi Chanhee stutter before.

You resisted the urge to say "come back". Come back, where you could pretend that he was yours. Shit, this had gone too far. "Chanhee, I think I have to quit."

Alarm shot his eyes wide open. "What?"

"I can't keep working for you because I have feelings for you," you blurted, staring him straight in the eyes. "I have to quit because the feelings—the want—I have for you are so strong and precariously unprofessional. And I'm sorry, because this was the best job I could've ever gotten, but—"

Chanhee grabbed your face and crushed his mouth to yours, effectively shutting you up. Shock had you freezing, but it wasn't long before you held him close and let him wholly devour you.

When he pulled away, his forehead was pressed against yours, the space between your lips near nonexistent. His hands were still cupping the sides of your face and his breathing was slightly labored; all either of you could feel, hear, smell, taste were each other.

"I love you," he whispered, almost inaudibly you thought you'd imagined it. But then he said it again, "I love you", and everything…

Everything settled.

"How could you?" After all, you were just… you. It seemed impossible that someone as high as he was could love someone like you.

His reply was simple, paired with a sweet return to your lips. "How could I not?"

You stood outside the massive, sky-piercing high-rise of Vogue headquarters, your heart pounding in your ears and your fingers drumming nervously against the seam of your dress pants. In about twenty minutes, you would be in the topmost office of the building interviewing for a chance to become CEO Anna Wintour's newest personal assistant.

"Well?"

You glanced over to your left where Chanhee stepped beside you, asking the driver to make a loop around the building and meet him back here in a few minutes. His hair, freshly dyed a silken midnight black, had grown slightly to mullet-length; and this morning, he was clad in a pristine white suit set in a classy contrast. A pearl collar sat on his defined collarbones like it was a throne. Beautiful, as always.

There were reporters lurking around here somewhere. That definitely didn't make any of this better for you.

You released a breath. "I've got this, right?"

He passed you a gentle, yet teasing grin. "Hey, you survived me. How much worse can she be?"

That made you crack a smile.

The two of you stood side by side staring up at the building for a moment longer. After you had quit being his assistant to instead be accepted as his partner, you and Chanhee worked to find you a new gig. You received about a hundred dozen job offers from lesser brands and big names when they all heard you were leaving Chanhee's employ on good terms. Anyone who survived Chanhee, and left with a stellar recommendation letter, was a hot commodity.

Chanhee reached for your hand, squeezing your fingers slightly. "Breathe, darling. You'll be in and out and hired before you know it."

He turned you around so you faced him. His tongue stuck out between his lips as he adjusted the pearl necklace around your throat, then the lapels of your jacket. "Wow," he breathed out.

"Huh?" You hummed with a smile in your eyes.

"You still take my breath away."

A nervous laugh fell from your lips, and Chanhee swooped in to taste it—that, your laugh.

"I love you," he murmured against your mouth. Nevermind all the press and paparazzi, or Anna Wintour, or anyone. This was just you and him, even for a little. You could imagine the headlines, but that was the last thing on your mind right now.

Your tongue swiped over his bottom lip to catch the last bits of him. "I love you, too."

There was a cunning glint in his eyes, offset by the soft smile on his face. "Okay, this is it. Call me if you need anything."

You began walking toward the entrance backwards. "What if I need you?"

His smile widened. "I said call me, didn't I? Anytime, anywhere." I'm yours.

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @honeyhuii @y3jiishot @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @mingiholic @ja4hyvn @ethereal-engene @justalildumpling @vatterie @yogurteume @kflixnet

[jerzwriter]

I was completely inspired by @lilyoffandoms WIP of Merida & Tobias at Paris Fashion Week. I am salivating and can't wait to see the finished piece (hopefully at home, so I won't make inhuman noises at work!). I HC that Tobias is very into fashion, so this is absolutely something he and Merida would do! For Day 4 of @tobias-carrick-appreciation-week - Fashion/Style.

Book: Open Heart Characters: Tobias & Merida (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 880 Summary: Merida and Tobias are having a blast as they jet off to Paris for Fashion Week, but Merida needs to keep him in check.

A/N: This is part of MOC World (Merida, Olivia, Casey) that I'm delighted to share with @lilyoffandoms and @storyofmychoices. I imagine this takes place shortly after the boy's camping trip covered in New Discoveries. Participating in @julychallenge - Stylish.

Adding a link to this art because I'm still screaming over it. They are perfect, just like their creator @lilyoffandoms! Merida & Tobias Attend Fashion Week

“We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments...”

While other passengers scurried to follow instructions before takeoff, neither Merida nor Tobias needed any such prompting. The stylish duo were already buckled into their first-class seats, the latest copies of Vogue and Women’s Wear Daily in hand. They were doing their best to exude an air of cool detachment, befitting their Elie Saab attire, but inside, they were two giddy children who just boarded a flight to Disneyland.

“We have been cleared for takeoff...”

Tobias swore he heard Merida squeal, or perhaps it was him? In either case, it was not the norm, so he did what needed to be done as soon as they reached cruising altitude... moments later, they had drinks in hand, a gin martini for him and a champagne cocktail for her. This was the life. They clinked their glasses together, bright smiles beginning to belie the sophisticated image they were attempting to project.

“To Fashion Week!” he beamed.

“To Paris Fashion Week!” Merida corrected with a raised glass. “I still can’t believe we’re going... together, no less!”

“It sure is a bucket item list!” He agreed.

“Now, are you going to tell me how you managed to get us into first class?”

Tobias’s lips twisted into a cocky grin. “I have friends,” he simpered. “The real question is, how did you get us invites to Chanel and Balmain?”

Merida turned to him with a smirk that put his pompous grin to shame. “I have friends.”

“Checkmate! Well, here’s to our friends.”

They launched into an animated conversation about where they wanted to eat, all the wine they planned to drink, and, of course, all the fashions they would peruse. They were chatting non-stop until Tobias's phone buzzed. Merida took one look at his face, and it was clear who it was... Casey.

Merida had barely recovered from their fifteen-minute make-out session at departures in Logan, nearly having to drag him onto the flight. So, with Tobias’s attention diverted, she took solace in the pages of Vogue once again. She would have been happy to remain there if not for the irritating little chuckles he made every few seconds. Finally, she had enough.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

Merida had his phone in hand, texting furiously before depositing it into her pocket.

“I’m texting Casey and telling her you’re being punished. I’m taking your phone away from you until we hit the three-hour mark.”

“What? Why? We've only been texting for the last ten minutes.”

“And how long have we been on the flight?” she asked with a raised brow.

An abashed Tobias turned away, mumbling under his breath. “Twenty minutes.”

“Exactly. I love you both, but you need to live in the moment, Carrick. You're not spending this whole trip texting."

“I know, but cut me a break, Mer! It’s hard for me to be away from her this long... literally and figuratively.”

Merida shook her head with a groan, befitting someone else back in Boston. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m friends with you.”

“Because there is no one you’d have more fun with at Fashion Week than me, and you know that’s true.”

“I’ve got to admit, it wouldn’t be the same if I came with... say, Ethan.”

“Yeah,” Tobias chuckled. “Back in Hopkins, I had to explain to him that JC Penney’s wasn’t a designer... and if they were... they wouldn’t even be a good one.”

“Oh, no!” Merida laughed.

“Oh, yes!”

“Ah... my Ethan,” she sighed.

“Your Ethan,” Tobias grinned mockingly. “See, you can’t make fun of me and Casey. You miss him, too!"

“He dropped us off at the airport two hours ago. I haven't had time to miss him yet. Tobias, a little time apart away from our partners is good. Just think about how you and Casey will pounce on each other after you haven’t seen her for a whole week.”

“Oh, there will be pouncing!" He growled. "Will you be pouncing, too?”

“We do plenty of pouncing," Merida countered. "But some of us have a little more decorum... we’re not as feral as you!”

“But that’s what you love about me!”

“Keep telling yourself that!”

“You know, for a work wife, you’re pretty abusive!”

Merida’s eyes lit up, and she put her magazine away for good when she found her opening.

“Speaking of wives... when are you making the upgrade with Casey, and why the hell didn’t you tell me about it in advance?”

Tobias's neck flung toward Merida, a look of horror in his eyes. “What! How do you know?”

“I’m not telling,” she teased.

“Ethan! I’m going to kill Ethan!”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” Shoving his shoulder so hard he nearly ended up in the aisle, she admonished her friend. “How dare you leave me out of this! I wanted the two of you together from the start!"

"What!" He hollered, garnering the attention of everyone in the first-class cabin. After waving an apology, he turned to Merida with a lower voice. "You threatened my life the day you found out I was dating Casey; now you want to pretend you were a matchmaker?"

"Look," Merida dismissed. "I just had to make sure you weren't doing one of the hit-and-runs you were known for. Once I knew it was the real deal, I was all in. God, you're pissing me off, Carrick! I have half a mind to tell Bryce he’s my new work husband!

Tobias looked wounded. "You wouldn't!" he gasped.

“Want to try me?”

Realizing he had no choice but to dish, he began sharing the details with Merida... the ring he selected, when and how he planned to pop the question, and most importantly, how unabashedly happy he was. Merida was beaming with delight and offered some suggestions, which Tobias had to admit were just perfect. He said he should have told her from the start, and once again, he nearly ended up in the aisle. Then, when their conversation ended, Merida happily handed Tobias his phone back.

“What’s this?" He asked with confusion. "We’re nowhere near the three-hour mark yet.”

“I know, but you’re too cute. I don't have the heart to keep you two apart. Just keep your animalistic noises to a minimum, or I'll have that phone back in my pocket, but quick!"

“Thanks, Mer,” he smiled. "I'll try to contain myself."

“Good! And this is just for the flight! When we get to Paris, we’re all about fashion shows and shopping!”

“Of course, work wife,” he grinned. “You'll have my full attention in Paris. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Good, work husband,” she beamed. "As long as you know your place."

Tobias reached over and gave Merida's hand a little squeeze.

"And Mer... I may be on my way to being an old-married man soon but don't worry, you'll always be my bestie."

"Of course, I will," she smiled. "A friendship like ours never goes out of style."

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[cemeteryspider]

Ballet on the Bayou Pt. 3

Alastor x Ballerina! Reader

Summary: After the accident on stage Alastor invites her to stay at his home.

Trigger Warnings: Injury, emotional distress, mention of Alastor's (ahem) activities

Word Count: 1055

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Ballet on the Bayou Masterlist

Alastor was made to stay in the waiting room as they set your ankle to the best of their ability and put it in plaster of Paris so it would heal. Even then, they said it would be a long way to being able to walk again. Feebly he brought up the subject of dance, but their silence spoke volumes.

He waited until your ankle had been set into place before he went home to check on his mother, who by this time would be worrying about him.

While he was there he grabbed one of his mother's old skirts and a sweater from their house. Alastor explained the situation to his mother who, as the loving woman she was, told him to offer you a place at their home. She also told him she would have dinner ready for when he returned.

When he got back to the hospital, you were sitting up in the hospital bed happily talking to staff. It seemed like a far departure from how you were mere hours ago.

A nurse pulled him over to the side and calmly explained that you were on pain medicine. He knew that you would be out of it for at least a few more hours.

A simple nod was all he could manage to the nurses, and he shifted his focus to you. He made his way over to your bed.

"Why aren't you just the cat's meow" A slight purr came from her lips with a big smile.

He let himself chuckle, even at the speakeasy a couple drinks in you, you weren't this loose. A warmth crept up his neck and to his cheeks and he hoped that you were too out of it to notice.

"I brought you some clothes, darling, I'm taking you to my house and we can call your folks there"

"Usually a man will take me out to dinner before takin' me home"

His smile was blinding as he left the clothes on your bed, discreetly exiting to give you some privacy. He informed the nurses and helped you sign the release paperwork.

~~~

After safely bringing you home, Alastor observed her peaceful slumber before tending to his mother and eating dinner with her.

She was rushing around the guest bedroom trying to make everything perfect. He knew exactly why. Never once had he shown interest in another human being besides his mother. He made no friends at school, and rarely went out of the house except to the radio station.

It came as a shock to him too when he took such interest up in you. Maybe part of it was just how happy she made him. How quickly he started to change his mind about humanity.

"Mother, we don't know if she wants to stay here"

"Just in case darling-boy"

They continued to sit quietly in the dining room and eat while you slept soundlessly on the couch.

~~~

You woke up to a searing pain in your leg and a vinyl on the record player beside you. In a seat opposite yours sat Alastor.

"Oh good, you're awake" He smiled as you wiped the sand out of your eyes and looked around.

Alastor lived in a modern house with velvety furniture. A massive stone fireplace adorned one wall, a majestic deer head presiding over the room. The crackling flames cast a warm glow, illuminating the velvety furniture that exuded an air of luxury.

"Wow, this place, it's beautiful" You had never seen such a lovely home. This was practically a palace compared to your meager living in a rural small town.

"Ah, thank you Dearie, now would you be staying here? Is there someone whom I could call? Or would you rather a hotel perhaps?" The questions swirled in your head.

"No, nobody to call, I left to pursue my dreams and when I went back to visit they wanted nothing to do with me. I haven't any money..."

"No need to worry about any of that, I will get you a room if you wish, although our guest room is pretty comfortable. Plus you get my mother's cooking"

"You'd let me stay here?" You tried not to get your hopes up, whenever you were with the troupe they always made you sleep on the floor. Or they would kick you out of the room.

"Of course! How could I kick someone as lovely as you out?"

You took the aspirin he guided into your hand and swallowed, hopeful that some of the pain would subside. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You spotted a pair of wooden crutches leaning against the wall, you would never be able to dance if you didn't start walking.

You made a move to stand up. Alastor just tutted and brought the crutches over to you and carefully pulled you up until your forearms rested against the arm rests.

~~~

After giving you a tour and formally introducing you to his mother, who gushed over your beauty and grace on the stage. Profusely apologized for grievous injury, and told you to stay as long as you liked.

Over the months of healing you had ahead of you, you helped her cook in the kitchen, clean around the house, go out for groceries with her, and help her wash and hang up the clothes. It was the kind of domestic life you didn't see in your future, but this somehow felt right.

~~~

Under the cover of night, Alastor silently left the house, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He knew exactly which train to be on to be where your troupe would be now. He also knew exactly how much time he had before he needed to be on the train back in time for breakfast and for his shift at the radio station.

He had everything he could need in the duffle bag at his feet. To any other passenger he was just a guy on a train, maybe going home for a short stay. In reality, he was paying Louise a visit. He couldn't wait to hear her beautiful screams as he wiped the grin off of her conniving face.

The tip of his wingtip shoes played with the bag near his feet, and he tested the weight of the hunting rifle and knifes inside.

[applejuicefruit]

I LOVE YOUR WORK!!!

can i request kylian x reader where they met through common friends and kylian started dating her just to make his ex h jealous but reader has trust issues like she had a bad childhood (you can write anything you want like her parents were violent or she hurt herself you can choose) and she opens up to kylian but eventually she finds out he was just using her? no happy ending please!! thank you so much!

This was hard to write but somehow I made it!

kylian mbappe x reader

TW: violence, child abuse, domestic abuse, suicide

If you’re sensitive I recommend to skip this story, it contains strong topics!!

Why not me?

You have no idea how your best friend managed to get you both into a private party in Paris but somehow she did it. She was your best friend or, your only friend, it depended on points of view. You were just glad of having someone in your life again, after being alone for so many years you were thankful you found someone like her.

So here you were, both of you sitting on a black leather couch sipping champagne and eating some snacks while people danced around you. You never liked clubs or parties, they always made you so uncomfortable, too much alcohol, loud music, people dancing and sweating, it just wasn’t your thing but you made a sacrifice when she asked you to go with her to this exclusive club in Paris. It was actually really expensive and you still had no idea how she got free tickets. One moment you were both sitting there drinking and talking with each other and the next moment you saw her going towards someone you had no idea of who he was.

It all came to mind when you saw her speaking with the one and only Neymar. The way they were talking and the way he was holding her you knew something was going on with them. Not love probably, you knew how she acted when she was in love, but maybe lust and passion and simply attraction? As long as she’s happy and consensual, you’re happy too!

Just a few minutes later she introduced you to Neymar, who introduced you to the rest of the team. You were kinda started to feeling uncomfortable with all of those people so you excused yourself and left the dance floor.

“Not a fan of loud music?” a voice came behind you. It was the one and only Kylian Mbappè, the guy you met earlier.

“Not at all” you joked and he laughed too.

“Would you like to go somewhere calmer?” he asked and you had no idea of what to say. Yes you were attracted to him but still, you met him ten minutes ago and due to your past you never trusted people so easily.

“Like where?” you asked and he kinda sensed your discomfort.

“Around Paris? My place? Your place? Mc Donald?” he asked you laughing and you smiled at him.

“Paris sounds nice…” you said and he agreed. You simply texted your best friend telling her you had left with Kylian.

He took you around Paris and that night you became close friends. After a few weeks he confessed his love for you and you did the same, you fell in love with him the night you met but you were to scared to tell him.

You’ve been dating for three months now, not much but you were slowly getting to know each other. He was very patient with you and you were very grateful for.

He never pushed you to do anything you didn’t want and he always made sure you were safe. He really cared for you.

One day you were at his place, casually watching some TV while you were both laid on the couch. He noticed a long scar on the back of your neck but the didn’t want to say anything about it in case it made you uncomfortable but curiosity was killing him.

“Y/n can I ask you something?” he asked and you turned to face him.

“Sure”you simply replied.

“You’ve never told me about your past…you know everything about me and still I don’t know anything about you, like do you have siblings? Did you live all of your life here in Paris?” he asked and you tensed a bit. He didn’t mean to sound rude, he was right, he knew nothing about you while you even knew what was his brother’s favorite dish or his mum’s favorite color.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…” he apologised the moment he saw you weren’t answering.

“No it’s fine…no, I don’t have any siblings and I moved to Paris once I turned eighteen, right after high school…” you spoke, your eyes never meeting his “…I didn’t have…my parents were bad people, my whole family never cared…” you started to explain him but it was hard for you to find the right words without scaring him or sounding broken “…my dad cheated on my mum with his secretary and when my mom found out she went insane…she was never home, always spending my dad’s money in alcohol and when my dad found out he threw her out…that was the last time I saw her, she never came back looking for me…I thought I could be happy with my father but when his new girlfriend moved into our home things became worse…” you took a deep breath not knowing if you were ready to tell him the whole story “his new girlfriend tried to make my life a living hell, stealing money from his pocket and blaming me, breaking things in the house and blaming me, she didn’t want me there and she tried to kick me out and even if I tried to explain my dad what was going on he never believed me, always saying it was my fault and that I needed to behave…” you let a few tears fall but you quickly wiped them “when I was sixteen my dad got tired of the chaos going on in his house so he became more violent, only with me…I got used of being greeted by slaps instead of hugs and kisses but one night things got worse…I was just minding my business in the living room when suddenly he got home mad because his girlfriend stole his credits card while at work, he took all of his anger out on me…” you stopped a moment before continuing, it hurt you to remember “he punched me so hard I fainted twice…I remember screaming for help and even if the neighbours heard no one ever came…he threw a glass on my back, that’s the scar…I remember laying there all night in my own blood since the morning came, no one ever came to help me…it was to hard for me to stay there but I had nowhere to go…but after that night things seemed to be better, my dad used to get mad at me less times but still, when it happened it hurt so bad that I felt like dying was the only solution…” you showed Kylian the faded scars on your wrist and he looked at you with so much pain that you swore he almost felt guilty for everything you have been through.

“One night I tried to kill myself, only for my dad to find out and call and ambulance…but I really really wished I died that night…” you broke down crying and Kylian took you in his lap, his arms around your body keeping you close “I thought things got better when I moved here in Paris, I fell in love with a boy, Jack, he seemed nice and all but I made the mistake to trust him so much to telling him all of my story only to find out he told his friends and they joked about it everytime they saw me…they would say things like ‘try again, the second time is better’ or ‘broken girl, broken family, daddy issues’ they kept joking about it and Jack never stopped them. When I confronted about it he said it wasn’t a big deal and that some people got it worse…that night we broke up…I trusted him, I trusted him with telling him about my past and he simply didn’t care…” you looked at Kylian and he softly kissed your forehead “the only person who knows about it now it’s my best friend, she never judged me, never made jokes or laughed about it…and you now…” you finished and Kylian looked stunned.

“I wished I could have protected you…” he hugged you and held you close, leaving some kisses into your neck and collarbone “you’re too kind for this world, we don’t deserve you…” he said and you laughed.

Kylian held you close all night after you told him about your past, almost too scared you would break.

You were now five months into the relationship and you never felt so happy in your life.

You had the whole weekend planned since Kylian didn’t have any games and you were going to tell him your idea when you heard him speaking to someone on the phone. You knew you shouldn’t have listened but your instinct told you to stop and listen the whole conversation.

“I don’t know man…I don’t know what to do…” he said and even if you didn’t hear what the other person was saying you recognized Neymar’s voice immediately “I really care about her, I do…she’s nice and she takes care of me and I think I have feelings for her, fuck I really do have feelings for her but this wasn’t the plan…” he said and even if you were on the verge of tears you stopped and listened to what he was saying “I still love her, Iwanted to make Rose jealous, I wanted her to come back to me and we’ve been texting for the past days but I don’t know…I really wanted Rose back but now I don’t know what to do…” Kylian said but stopped when he heard noises coming from his door “shit man I have to go” he said hanging up.

You tried to leave the home but Kylian stopped you.

“Y/n please let me explain…” he begged you.

“Explain what? That I was just a plan to make your ex jealous? That you just used me? That you don’t care about me or my feelings?” you said completely crying.

“It’s not that I swear…I love you y/n, shit, I do really love you but I realised it when it was too late…please don’t ruin everything for this…” he said and you couldn’t believe your ears.

“Me? Ruin everything? You did it the moment you said you still loved your ex…fuck I can’t believe I was so stupid to believe someone could ever like me…you know what? Forget about everything, forget about what I told you, forget these past months and forget about me. You got what you wanted right? She texted you back so you won…” you said crying but he wouldn’t leave your arm.

“No y/n you have to believe me…I love you, I do…Yes I used you to get back to my ex but now I don’t care about her, I don’t, please baby…I’m so sorry…” he said almost crying. You had enough. You had enough of people who constantly used you and treated you bad.

“No I’m sorry for opening up to you, to tell you everything about my life, to have trusted you because I really trusted you Kylian…I can’t believe this is happening but…we’re done Kylian, I can’t do it…I really can’t…” you said going to grab your jacket and purse.

“What? No no y/n you can’t say this…I made a huge mistake but I can’t lose you, I know I’m a dickhead I know but I can’t lose you please…scream at me, punch me, spit in my face, tell me how much you hate me but please don’t leave” Kylian said, realising too late that he had fallen in love with you and that he just screwed up everything. He just lost you over a stupid idea he got when he saw his ex hanging around in Paris with some models, he got jealous and he knew he wanted to make her jealous too but he fell in love with you. Definitely not his plan.

“It’s too late Kylian…I’m sorry this is how it went…but you used me and hurt me and made me feel like I wasn’t enough…I need to focus more on myself and you can’t be a part in this…but I do really hope you and Rose have a nice life…” you said leaving his apartment. You heard him screaming your name but you couldn’t look back.

Instead you got into your car and started wondering what was wrong with you. “Why couldn’t people love me? Why not me? Why can’t I be loved?” you thought while driving back home.

[cherryxcadbury]

hi! hope ur doing alright. Can I request for kylian? Something around him seeing you for the first time at a party/club/bar and he’s captivated by you at first sight or something of that sort? 💗

this is such a mess and long af but it’s honestly my fave thing I’ve ever written

Y/N: Your name 

2nd person pov 

"If I don't get food right now I'm going to assault someone." Ayaan groaned from the backseat, beginning to curse in Spanish.

You and Asami looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"We told you to eat something at the metro station." Phoebe mused, examining her cuticles.

"That's besides the point." Ayaan complained. 

He was quickly silenced by Asami who intwined her hand with his. A small smile playing on both of their faces.

You rolled your eyes. You were seated next to Asami who was next to Ayaan. The two of them happened to be dating. Phoebe was in the passenger seat with Louis driving, as he was the only one comfortable on the Parisian streets. 

"How much farther are we? I'm sick of third wheeling. And I'm kind of hungry too." You asked Louis and Phoebe.

"Less than a kilometer." Phoebe answered, showing you her phone screen.

"So, who exactly are we meeting?" Louis questioned.

Ayaan shrugged his shoulders, "My cousin Arra and whoever he's with." 

A comfortable silence fell upon the car. You all had decided to go on a trip to Paris for about a week after Asami's, yours, and Louis's exams ended. Ayaan was two years older than you, he'd graduated from university two years ago. As for Phoebe, you really didn't know how you met Phoebe. She was someone's childhood friend. But, you all just clicked. She had graduated a few years prior. 

Within a few minutes we were off the motorway and pulled up to a busy street street, lights and music blaring. 

"Keep going forward. Then turn left." Phoebe instructed, reading off her phone.

Louis did as told and drove down this path until a building was in sight. 

"Here we are." Ayaan exclaimed with excitement.

"Donde esta mi primo? No puedo esperar." He quickly got out of the car, gesturing for someone to hand the keys to the valet.  

The rest of you followed suit. Ayaan seemed to know what he was doing. 

You gaped at your surroundings. The building looked a lot like a five star hotel. 

"Where exactly are we?" I turned to Phoebe and Asami. 

"Bout twenty minutes away from Bondy, half an hour from Paris's city center." Asami informed.

"Bondy. The home of Kylian Mbappe." Louis stated.

"Yeah fuck him." Phoebe mumbled, still angry about the World Cup. 

"You best not go in there with that attitude." Ayaan advised.

 You quirked an eyebrow at him before shrugging your shoulders.

Ayaan led you five in through the multiple doors, immediately making his way over to the reception. You were all directed to the loft where Ayaan pressed the lowest button. 

"Are you sure there's a party here?" Asami questioned with suspicion. 

"Yeah it's completely silent." Louis nodded in agreement.

"Just you wait." Ayaan smirked. 

Within thirty seconds the doors opened to reveal a long hallway. At the very end were a few people in line and a bouncer. They were all dressed like kids whose parents made a fortune and let them take their private jet out on weekends.

"Come on." Ayaan beckoned to us, Asami's arm linked with his. 

"Identification." The man said gruffly.

You all did as told and the bouncer gruffly flicked through them until he landed on Ayaan's. 

"Hakimi?" He questioned Ayaan.

"My cousin." Ayaan answered with a huff of annoyance. 

The bouncer nodded briefly and gestured for you all to go in.

"This is some rich people shit." You mumbled to Louis and Phoebe, who were judging the place as well. 

On the inside it looked like a normal club, except that it seemed like one strictly for rich people. 

"Im getting a drink." Phoebe started off into the club just a few steps behind Asami and Ayaan who'd already started wandering.

It was just you and Louis. 

"Food?" He asked. 

"Always." You responded nudging him towards the direction of the bar. 

You both walked up to the bar which Louis leaned on and spoke rapid French.

He turned to you, "They don't sell food." 

You gaped. You were so so hungry. 

"It's a bar? And they don't sell food?" You questioned.

Louis shrugged his shoulders.

"I can get us drinks?" He offered, some fear in his eyes based off of your demeanor.

"Whatever will do." You mumbled, stalking off to an empty booth. 

You sat down, scooting far into the middle. You took solace in the fact that Asami and Ayaan were in view. They were talking to a group of people whose backs were turned to face you. 

You sighed a bit. Going up to them when there was a bigger group was a bit too intimidating for your liking. Clubs or parties in general, while fun when you were with your friends, weren't necessarily your thing. 

You really shouldn't have left Louis at the bar. Because then at least you'd have someone to talk to. But you'd let your hangriness take over. You and Louis were both big introverts.

You looked around for Phoebe but she was nowhere to be found. You really did not want to look lonely, so you opened your phone and scrolled through instagram, pretending to look busy. 

Meanwhile on the other side of the club, someone's eyes were fixated on you. Absolutely captivated by your beauty. 

Kylian Mbappe stood talking with his best Achraf Hakimi, Achraf's cousin Ayaan, and Ayaan's girlfriend Asami. 

His eyes were encapsulated by the beauty who sat alone at a booth, engrossed in her phone.

"No but NYC was very fun. Kiks and I had a great time." Achraf spoke.

He nudged Kylian who was turned around, facing the opposite direction.

Kylian regained composure, nodding at Achraf's words.

"You have your eye on someone Kylian?" Asami asked, a small smile playing on his face.

Kylian's face faltered. 

"Uh well I..." He began to speak 

"Who is it?" Achraf questioned with a chuckle.

His friend never got starstruck by anyone. 

Kylian stared at the ground. 

"The girl sitting alone in that booth over there. Short black dress. Long wavy hair. Beautiful sparkling eyes." He mumbled.

"No way." Ayaan began laughing.

Kylian's head shot up.

"What? Don't tell me she's related to you or something?" 

Achraf turned to Kylian "Bro what?"

Kylian shrugged his shoulders, "I mean she's kind of tan?" 

Asami interjected with a grin, "That's Y/N. She's my best friend." 

"And mine!" Ayaan added.

"She's very pretty." Kylian's eyes went wide with adoration when he turned to look at you.

"Does she have a boyfriend?" Achraf smirked, asking the question he knew Kylian needed the answer to.

Before Kylian could slap Achraf for his bluntness, his smile fell when he saw a well dressed man come over to you with a drink. 

"Boyfriend." He murmured. 

Ayaan put his hand on Kylian's shoulder causing Kylian to look back at the group he was with.

"That's Louis. Our other best friend. And not Y/N's boyfriend." Ayaan informed.

"Are you sure?" Kylian asked, looking at Asami for confirmation.

"Two hundred percent sure. In fact." Asami paused briefly before beckoning over a small girl with deep ebony skin.

"This is Phoebe." Asami introduced the girl to Kylian and Achraf.

"Hello Phoebe!" Achraf smiled.

"A pleasure Mr. Hakimi, I'm a big fan." She confessed shaking his hand.

Phoebe turned to Kylian and scowled at him.

"What'd I do?" He inquired, hands up in the air.

"You beat England you bloody bastard." She gave him a wicked look.

"We got beaten by Argentina anyways. Consider yourself avenged." Kylian defended himself.

"Fair." Phoebe concluded.

"Now why'd you call me over?" 

"Kylian here has a little crush on Y/N." Ayaan smirked.

"Little crush? More like he's in love with her." Achraf emphasised. 

"Tell the whole world why don't you!" Kylian rubbed his temples.

"You have a crush on Y/N." Phoebe sniggered.

Kylian stayed silent, becoming embarrassed very quickly. 

"He does! But he's afraid Louis & Y/N are a thing." Asami explained, gesturing at Phoebe to say something.

"Ahhh yes. Fortunately Kylian, that is impossible." Phoebe answered.

Kylian cocked his head to the side with a look of confusion.

"Louis and I are uh. Friends with benefits to put it briefly." Phoebe responded, throwing off even Ayaan in the process.

"I didn't know this!" Ayaan exclaimed.

"Your brain has limited capacity to begin with. Don't need rubbish like this taking up extra room." Phoebe joked. 

"Go over and shoot your shot Kyks." Achraf advised.

"I don't know man." 

"Then let's call her over here." Asami shot him a smug look.

Kylian immediately turned around so you didn't catch him staring. 

"Y/N! Louis! Over here!" Asami waved you and Louis over.

You whipped your head in the direction of the group which now contained Phoebe as well.

"Ready to meet new people?" Louis questioned, quirking an eyebrow at you.

"Never." You sighed putting your drink down and walking to the group with Louis.

"You know I felt very very stared at today. Like I don't know if I'm paranoid or something but I swear to god someone was staring at me." You mentioned to Louis.

He scoffed, "Don't tell me you didn't notice."

"What do you mean?"

"Jeez Y/N. You are so oblivious." 

"So someone was staring!" You exclaimed.

"French men are pigs. Eyes have been on you since we got in here. Probably because of the dress you're wearing. Lots of sequins." Louis broke the news to you. 

(if u guys wanna a pic of this dress lmk, I'm obsessed w it). 

You groaned, immediately feeling self conscious. Your usual uniform of tees and sweat pants never really attracted much male attention. So times like this when you dressed up has always felt a bit foreign to you.

"In my defense I borrowed this from Phoebe who by the way, is a lot shorter than me." 

"Phoebe would do more justice in it than you." Louis tried to rile you up.

"Oh fuck you." 

"Might want to pipe down before they hear." Louis gestured to the group you approached.

It was Asami, Phoebe, Ayaan, and no way. No fucking way. Achraf Hakimi & Kylian Mbappe.

"Y/N! Louis!" Ayaan smiled.

"Meet mí primo, Achraf. And his best friend, Kylian." 

Louis greeted them before you, as you grew nervous very quickly.

"Nice to meet you, big fan." You grinned, shaking Achraf's hand.

Now, you turned to Kylian.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." You smiled softly.

Kylian stared into your eyes for a second before returning your smile.

"You as well Y/N. May I say that you look very beautiful tonight." Kylian replied.

You felt your heart began to beat rapidly. 

"I uh thank you." You shot him a grateful look, turning red quickly.

"Y/N you remember the 2018 World Cup don't you? When you had a huge crush on Kylian an..." Louis began to speak before you kicked him.

"Louis what the hell!" You whisper yelled to him. 

 "Care to get a drink with me at the bar Y/N?" Kylian requested, back to his usual confident self.

You nodded numbly, following him there. 

You two ordered your drinks and stood at the bar. You patiently waited for him to start the conversation. Because you sure as hell weren't going to.

You fixated your eyes on something. Someone had left a copy of Lord of the Flies on a nearby table. You loved that book.

"You like Lord of the Flies? It's one of my favourites." Kylian spoke suddenly.

You turned to face him with shock.

"You read?" 

He shot you a playful look of annoyance, "Just because I'm a footballer I can't read?" 

His eyes danced with curiosity.

"I mean yes! No offense, but besides Xavi and Iniesta, you all seem pretty mediocre in terms of intelligence. Or intellect if we're being honest." You confessed.

"I was very smart boy in my school days." 

"Somehow I find that hard to believe." 

He shook his head with a chuckle, "Name another book." 

He downed a shot. Eyes almost taunting you to compete with him.

You smirked at the little competition.

"Crazy Rich Asians. A new classic." You replied, with your first shot.

That stung, a bit.

"China Rich Girlfriend. Colette Bing's a bitch." Kylian replied with another shot.

"You've read it?" 

"All three."

You were in shock.

You surrendered, "You win. I'm not going to even try." 

Kylian smiled, his competitiveness had taken over.

"How long are you in Paris for?" 

"The next week. But I don't live too far away to begin with."

His face became lovestruck again.

"Um Id love to show you around Paris one day if you have the time?" He offered, scratching the back of his neck.  

You wanted to laugh at what he was dancing around the idea of.

"I'd much rather you be straight to the point." You shot him a smug look.

He took your hand, you were caught off guard.

"Will you let me take you out tomorrow?" He asked softly.

The look in his eyes. He could bring you to your knees. You wanted to tell him he could do anything to you with that look and that voice.

"Yes." You responded breathlessly.

***

"I was in love with him from the very beginning." You told the young boy and girl who were seated on the floor.

"And he was enamoured with your mum too." Asami told the kids.

"Papa and Mum were in love!" Your son exclaimed.

"Papa and Mum will always be in love." Kylian announced, coming from the kitchen to wrap an arm around your waist.

He looked at you with the same adoration he had in that club, all those years ago. 

And you couldn't help but return it. 

to the few who dmed me abt smut writing, it still makes me uncomfy but I hope the “he could bring you to your knees” may partially suffice ;)

[toxinellebug]

Shadybug/Claw Noir Christmas PART 1

HEAD CANON TIME!

You know that Xmas in Paris with those two on the loose wouldn’t be a Silent Night.

I imagine the nightly curfew to be indoors would still be in effect, even during the holidays, but that wouldn’t stop people from having holiday parties provided their guests stay overnight… And what better party could there be than the Bourgeois Christmas Gala, held at the Le Grand Paris Hotel? An extravagant and EXCLUSIVE black tie event for the richest/most influential people and Celebrities in Paris! There’s dancing and dining and only the BEST decorations money can buy! And THIS year, Chloe plans to make it an unforgettable event where she will kiss her Adrikins under the mistletoe, and she even had her daddy invite news photographers to document the whole thing so she can rub it in the smug face of that Lila Rossi who had the AUDACITY to suggest that she and Adrien should spend time together over winter break since this year she wouldn’t be going to her Uncle’s ski-lodge in the Swiss Alps, due to re-modeling.

This will prove once and for all that Adrien is HERS, and the riff-raff should all back off!

Chloe was sooo nice, she even made Daddy hire Adrien’s favorite bakery to cater all the baked goods for the party… Provided that loser Dupain-Cheng doesn’t step foot inside and infect the place with her lameness.

It’s a brilliant, fool-proof plan to make this THE. BEST. CHRISTMAS. EVER!

…Adrien is convinced this is the WORST Christmas ever. Scratch that, CHRISTMAS is the worst ever!

It’s the first winter without his mom, and the Bourgeois’ had the nerve to invite him to a PARTY? For WHAT? So he can force himself to laugh at celebrities’ lame jokes, and begrudgingly waltz with rich people’s daughters who can barely avoid stepping on the hem of their gaudy, sparkly dresses, drink sparkling cider and play hokey, out-dated party games and pretend he’s having fun?!

His mother is GONE, and he’s supposed to just act like everything is Merry and Bright?? Thankfully, his father has already turned down the invitation. He’ll probably be chewed out by Audrey for missing this golden opportunity to show off his new formal winter collection though.

Gabriel promised him that they didn’t have to do any sort of Holiday appearance or event. Which is perfect because Adrien doesn’t think he could manage to smile for any cameras right now… But he still can’t believe his father wants to celebrate at all?? What is there to celebrate?? His father actually put up a tree! And asked him to help him put on the ornaments… Just like they did with mom every year. Does he seriously expect them to just decorate the tree like nothing has changed? What’s next? They watch cheesy old xmas movies while snacking on cinnamon cookies and Les Papillotes and then eat Father’s greasy fried cooking for dinner at Midnight? Were they just going to pretend everything was fine and just the same as always???

How could it be christmas without Mom to tie lopsided red ribbons just to tease father before adding way too much Cheveux d’ange to the tree? How is it christmas without mom’s cheeks turning pink from too much vin chaud while watching “L'assassinat du Père Noël”? How is it christmas without her singing along to the carols on her vinyl record player as they set the table while Father is so focused on the Amandine and the fried bugnes that he lets the Turkey burn?

It WON’T be the same, and he doesn’t want it! He just wants to lock himself in his room and wait for this miserable day to be over!

Gabriel is hurt, but Nooru suggests that Adrien needs his space so he shouldn’t insist- it will only push him farther away. Gabriel knows the holidays will never be the same, but he has hope that they could still be special even if it’s just the two of them now… But, only when Adrien is ready.

But Adrien isn’t going to be ready… In fact, Adrien had an idea- an AWFUL idea. Adrien had a wonderful, awful idea: Why should HE be the only one who is miserable?

Claw Noir would turn this Holy Night into a Massacre! He’d smash every window full of holly, and each and every wreath he could find would serve as kindling when he burned the giant tree in the center of Place de la Concorde to the ground! He wouldn’t be satisfied until everyone in Paris was as miserable as him!!!

…There was no one in Paris more miserable than Marinette.

Christmas was always a busy time for the bakery; Bûche de Noël, Biscuits de Noël, Pain d'épices, Pompe à l'huile, Oreillettes, sables au cumin, and SO. MANY. CINNAMON. COOKIES.

But THIS year, in addition to the usual amount of fare for regular customers, they had been given a huge order to fill for the Bourgeois Christmas Gala; they wanted EVERYTHING, and despite their exclusive guest list, they seemed to want enough to feed all of Paris! Which meant that most of it would end up going to waste in the trash once the party was over.

The party that her PARENTS would have to attend in order to deliver and serve the guests, which meant that they would be spending all of Christmas Eve and into Christmas morning at the Hotel, while Marinette stayed at home…. Alone.

All because of that selfish, vile Chloe Bourgeois- even if they are no longer in the same class, that witch STILL finds a way to take EVERYTHING from Marinette, now even her own parents??? …No, not just Chloe. It��s also the fault of that spoiled Adrien Agreste! Apparently Mr. Super Model is an extremely picky eater, which meant it HAD to be her parent’s bakery that catered the Gala, because whatever Agreste wants, Agreste GETS. Those two truly were a perfect pair.

After being forced to help bake and run the register all day, Marinette is now alone on her rooftop balcony, freezing cold but at least she can finally escape the oppressive odor of cinnamon that has saturated her whole house. She hates cinnamon. She hates Chloe Bourgeois and Adrien Agreste. But most of all, she HATES CHRISTMAS!

Thanks to Enforcers patrolling the streets to make sure Parisians are inside after dark, the city is silent, save for the tinkling of glass being smashed.

Windows are broken, snowmen are toppled, and wreaths are snatched as Claw Noir makes his way towards the main public square; Chestnuts roasting on an open fire? How about a raging inferno instead?!

An old man watches from his window- he is alone on the Holidays, as always. No family to spend festivities with, no Christmas feasts with 13 desserts to distract him. All he has is nostalgia and memories of the christmases of his youth, back when he was still just a boy, back when this holiday was still about GIVING, back when people still told stories of Santa Claus before it was considered fanatical socialist propaganda, back before… The Supreme.

Christmas these days is nothing like the old days. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t still precious!

He can’t get a clear view of whatever miscreant is causing the damage from his window, but he can see the path of destruction left behind. And he knows that even though the Enforcers will no doubt hunt down and punish that ne'er-do-wel, they will not bother to clean up or repair the damage.

Who would do such an awful thing? If only there was SOMETHING he could do to help…

He doesn’t notice the faerie white butterfly that passes through his window, unfettered by the glass, and lands on his knitted hat.

But he DOES hear the voice; soothing and gentle inside his head, emphasizing with his concern over the wanton destruction, sharing his desire to bring back the true meaning of Christmas. The Voice offers him a gift- one that will allow him to bring peace and joy back to those affected by the vandal, and prove that this night is still one of hope. The voice asks, very politely, if the man will accept this gift in the name of the greater good?

The man accepts, and the voice grants him a new name… “Father Christmas.”

Claw Noir is whistling a casual tune, twirling a candy cane he stole from a window display in his fingers in one hand, and flicking away the remains of shredded ribbon from his claws in the other, when he hears the sound of sobbing.

His route of mayhem has lead him to “Tom and Sabine’s Bakery/Boulangerie” the place where that pretty girl with the dark hair in pigtails works.

Said pretty girl is on the roof, completely unaware of his presence, too busy crying her eyes out.

Once more, he feels that this girl is probably the only one in all of Paris who he can relate to. Alone and miserable… he doesn’t know what pain she’s going through to leave her out on a snow-covered rooftop where no one (but him) can witness her tears, but somehow it is oddly comforting to know that he isn’t the only one… that they are kindred spirits in a way. Having someone else hate Christmas as much as him makes the pain somehow more bearable…

Are those sleigh-bells?? Where the heck is the sound of sleigh-bells coming from?!

Something catches his eye, and Claw Noir can’t believe what he sees… He can’t even figure out WHAT he sees…

Some old fat guy in a tacky red suit is flying- ACTUALLY FLYING- in a sleigh being pulled by reindeer for some reason?! What is that even supposed to BE?? Just how much mulled wine has the butterfly man had???

Weirdness aside, that fat freak is ruining all of Claw Noir’s work! As the sleigh flies over houses, broken windows vanish and are replaced with shiny new glass adorned with bright red bows. New Wreaths with sparkling gold and silver berries seem to actually sprout on doors, and tiny, wrapped gift boxes seem to rain down to rest at each door mat.

And the geezer is headed straight towards the Place de la Concorde!

Oh NO he doesn’t! Claw Noir has a good pile of stolen kindling going around that tree and NOTHING is going to stop him from torching that sucker! He gives chase.

The sound of bells and old man laughter makes Marinette wipe away her tears and look up just in time to catch a tiny wrapped box. Opening it, she finds a smiling gingerbread cookie holding a peppermint stick. She scowls before snapping off the cookie’s head.

Betterfly… that tears it!

Marinette transforms into Shadybug, crunches the peppermint stick HARD between her teeth before summoning her Lucky Charm- a shoulder mounter missile launcher, just right for blowing magic sleighs out of the sky!

The butterfly miraculous will make the perfect christmas gift for The Supreme.

But first, she’s gonna annihilate that bearded tub of lard who mocked her with friggin’ cookies!!!

Obviously Betterfly can’t let his new ally who laughs like a bowl full of jelly be blown to smithereens or be torn to shreds. He must help fend off Shadybug and Claw Noir to save Christmas and return home before Adrien comes down from his room (or that suspicious bodyguard notices something is up)

Meanwhile, Chloe is miserable! She has a brand new golden ballgown, diamond covered shoes, her hair is even MORE amazing than usual, and Adrikins isn’t here to tell her how gorgeous she is! CHRISTMAS IS RUINED! This is all her Daddy’s fault! Audrey agrees; the invitations SHOULD have been engraved, not embossed, and gold foil borders on linen paper? What is this, the 90’s?? Anything but glitter infused envelopes is just tacky! And WHERE are the solid crystal champagne flutes she requested?! No wonder Gabriel and Agreste Junior didn’t show- this whole Gala is turning out to be ridiculous, utterly ridiculous! Andre has no wish list, but as for New Year’s resolutions, he plans to take up drinking.

PART 2

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Small Fun Poll - 5/16/24

Which fanfic idea/prompt do you like the best? 10 options! May be featured as a Fanfic Friday Fanfic in the future! Read Below The Cut! :P

Klarion (Klarion The Witch Boy) X Female Reader - Mini Angst/Fluff (whipped for the other kind of trope)

Klarion, being the mischievous witch boy the world has ever seen, decides to cause chaos in your favorite cafe. As the world was basically going crazy around you, you go up to the havok-causing witch boy and politely ask him to stop. Klarion is slightly shocked. No one had ever asked him so nicely, almost sincerely, and with a smile on their face. Before you knew it, you not only left a beverage, but with a almost love-sick Klarion and his cat.

2. Gaston LeGume (Live Action Beauty And The Beast) X GN Reader - Slight Angst/Fluff

You work as a barmaid at the tavern that Gaston frequents. Gaston, whenever he enters the tavern, always flirts with you, but you know that he has his heart set on Belle. Your heart yearns for him, but you know you can not have him... But, one night, an old lady gifts you a potion... A love potion. Will you succumb to your broken heart, or will you use the love potion to get what your heart's always desired?

3. Harry Osborn (The Amazing Spider-Man) X Female Reader - Mini Angst/Fluff

You and Harry Osborn have been dating for a long time, ever since you met him at work. Now dating, you are smothered in his love, affection, and constant - constant gifts. Harry would give you random - almost always expensive - things every day. You wanted more meaningful gifts, and convincing Harry to settle down a bit on the gifts was... Well, not easy.

4. Armitage Hux (Star Wars) X GN Reader - Slight Angst/Fluff (somewhat grumpy x sunshine trope)

You and Armitage work together, very closely, Armitage hates it, you love it. You love meeting new people and spending time with the people you find interesting. A lot of people on the Starkiller Base think you are somewhat odd - you being so happy-go-lucky all the time. Armitage doesn't believe that you have anything in common with him; he's proven wrong.

5. Coriolanus Snow (The Hunger Games: Ballad Of Songbirds And Snakes) X Female Reader - Angst/Fluff (enemies to lovers trope)

You are the eldest sister of Felix Ravinstill - strikingly beautiful, sharp wit, and extremely rich. Your parents are ready to marry you off. But to whom? Well, there are a few people they could choose... But, to your surprise, Coriolanus Snow is chosen. You're not too happy about the marriage in the beginning, but somewhere down the line, you fall for the young man. Coriolanus though, he only married you to get another step closer to becoming Panem's next president.

6. Jaskier (The Witcher) X Female Reader - Slight Angst/Fluff (Inspired by: Labour by Paris Paloma)

Jaskier and Geralt stop at a small tavern as they were traveling through a small town. They were both glad to be able to rest for a short while, and grab something to eat and drink before trying to find some place to stay for the night. Jaskier was having a grand ol' time, until you walked right up on stage. With a small frown and sad eyes, you sing your song, and Jasker is mesmerized by you instantly.

7. Willy Wonka (Wonka) X GN Reader - Mini Angst/Fluff (friends to lovers trope)

You help Willy and your friends conjure up the plan to stop the Chocolate Cartel. You are worried for Willy, hoping that he wouldn't get caught in his carefully thought-out plan. And though you had only known Willy for a short while - and with the constant worry for his life - the moment you saw him, covered in melt chocolate, you can't help but run into his awaiting arms. But, is this just a beautiful friendship, or is there something sweeter bubbling underneath the surface?

8. Kori/Starfire (Teen Titans) X GN Reader - Fluff

You and Kori just spend a quiet night in - with Silkie of course - playing Just Dance. You both have a lovely time dancing, which may or may not lead into a somewhat awkward - but wonderful - confession from the both of you.

9. Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars) X Female Reader - Mini Angst/Fluff (competition/bet trope)

You and Anakin finally get to have a small break from missions and boring Jedi meetings. You and Anakin travel to a planet where - similar to Tatooine - loves pod racing. You surprise Anakin with a small bet, and Anakin won't back down from that; he truly thinks he can beat you. And with your bets on the table, will he win, or will you?

10. Harry Hart (Kingsman) X Fluff Reader - Angst/Fluff

Harry finally introduces Eggsy to you - his secret wife - but after the church incident, Eggsy has the hardest job to do... Tell you that Harry was dead. But, what happens when Eggsy and Merlin find Harry alive in America? Who's going to tell you that your husband has been alive, and has forgotten most of his memories... And has forgotten about you?

---

To anyone who reads this, you do not have to participate if you do not want to. I just thought it would be fun to make a poll. I haven't done one in a while, and don't really know what to make it about. XD

Chloe

[satansapostle6]

Angel With A Broken Wing | Jonah Simms

And if I may just take your breath away / I don't mind if there's not much to say / Sometimes the silence guides a mind / To move to a place so far away / The goosebumps start to raise / The minute that my left hand meets your waist / And then I watch your face / Put my finger on your tongue 'cause you love to taste, yeah / These hearts adore, everyone the other beats hardest for / Inside this place is warm / Outside it starts to pour

Warnings: Mature language and themes. Sexual content.

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten: Don’t You Know

“Hey. Sophie,” Jonah grinned as he looked up from our table by the cafe.

“Huh?” I looked up.

”If you could go anywhere, right now, on a free vacation, for as long as you want, where would you go?” he asked me.

“Vietnam,” I offered. “It’s cheap, and it’s awesome.”

Jonah didn’t seem thoroughly pleased by this answer.

“No, but… Okay. Somewhere you haven’t been before,” he decided.

“Easy. Paris,” I reply.

He smiled. “Paris, huh?”

I nod. “Mhm. I’d do the whole thing. Food, shopping, cigarettes, gay stuff…”

Jonah nodded appreciatively. “Those are your favorite things… I’ve also never been to Paris. I’ve been to Chamonix, though…”

“Ugh,” I mutter at his exaggerated pronunciation. “Did you tie an ascot around your neck, too?”

He frowned. “It was winter… You know what, never mind.”

“I’d wanna go to Chamonix,” I remarked.

“It’s beautiful,” Jonah expressed.

“It’s where Frankenstein was set.”

He just smiled. “You’re really odd, you know that?”

“What?” I argued, “It was.”

“I read it,” he nodded, not disagreeing with that particular fact.

“I think it was the best book ever written,” I confessed.

“It was amazing, yeah,” Jonah agreed, “It’s amazing what you discover when you realize the book isn’t about some dumb, grunting monster…”

“Mary Shelley was an icon,” I offered my hot take, “She lost her virginity on her mother’s grave.”

Jonah made a face. “I… really hope that’s true,” he admitted.

“I hope I find someone who matches the energy of my perversions that well,” I sigh wistfully.

“That’s more or less the dream, yeah,” Jonah agreed.

We both smile as we eat and drink. He studied me for a moment, before having something else to say.

“I like that tattoo,” he said, pointing to the American traditional rose on the right side of my neck.

I smiled. “Thanks.”

“I don’t see tattoos like that often,” Jonah told me, “They look like… old sailor tattoos, or something. They’re really cool.”

I nod. “American traditional’s a lost art.”

He nods. “Is that what that is? It looks really cool.”

“Thank you.”

He nods as he looks at the one on the other side of my neck. “An eight ball… what does that mean?”

I stare. “People… get it for luck.”

He looks at me curiously. “Did you?”

I shake my head, and he slowly picks up on it.

“Right… Uh…”

“Eight years,” I finished. “I’m eight years clean. Snow, and ice.”

“Got it… Cool,” he smiled, “I mean… Not the drug stuff, obviously or… not that I would judge someone for doing drugs, I just mean, like...”

I just nod, knowing what he meant.

“That’s… impressive, for sure. Good for you, like truly…”

“Thanks,” I nod, as we just quickly move on. “I work at a Cloud 9 and used to do meth… I’m not special.”

“No, you are,” Jonah said, before immediately realizing how it sounded, “I mean… You’re impressive. Like, really impressive…”

“Thank you,” I responded, as we eventually moved on from the topic.

“Mhm.”

Jonah thought to himself for a moment before speaking up again.

“What about that? On your shoulder. What’s that?”

“My grandpa’s name,” I explain.

“That’s sweet,” he smiled, “How do you say it…?”

“Trăng,” I spoke.

“Oh, okay,” he nodded.

“That’s usually a woman’s name, but he was named after his dad’s ex-girlfriend,” I explained.

Jonah stopped. “That’s… Something I have a lot of questions about.”

I nodded. “So did I.”

“That’s… really nice, though. That you got that… Not… the ex-girlfriend thing,” he corrected.

“Yeah,” I nodded.

“You were really close?” he asked me.

“Mhm.”

“What about your grandma?”

I froze.

“…Really?” he asked softly. “What was the story there…? If you’re okay with, you know…”

“She sucked,” I concluded. “Or does… I don’t even know if she’s alive.”

“I’m sorry,” Jonah said sympathetically.

“It’s fine,” I shrug, “She’s dead to me.”

Jonah looked at me curiously. “You know, I’ve never really heard of someone having that bad a relationship with a grandparent before…”

I didn’t really know what to say.

“You can have one of mine, if you want,” he offered. “I’m sure I could spare the extra Werther’s caramels…” he joked lightly.

I smiled. “I… appreciate the offer,” I concluded.

He nodded. “Of course,” he agreed with a smile. “You know… I kinda feel bad for her, your grandma…”

My brows furrowed. “Don’t. She sucks.”

I couldn’t have emphasized this enough.

“No, I believe you,” Jonah promised, “I just… pity anyone who misses out on being close with you.”

I smiled softly. No one said anything for a second, as we picked at the french fries we were eating.

“You want another soda?” he asked attentively.

I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“I’ll be right back,” Jonah smiled, picking up our cups.

I thought for a second as he walked away, the fear slowly setting in. It was inescapable. There was nothing I could do but surrender to a violent current. I felt myself screaming inside, my chest getting hot, and my ears ringing so loud I couldn’t hear myself think.

“Hey,” Jonah smiled brightly, passing me a brand new Coke, “I got you new ice… I tried to kinda crush it up because I know how you like the ice chip-y ice, but it kinda got all over me…”

I practically dissociated right in front of him as he tried drying off his shirt with shitty thin napkins.

“Uh-huh,” was all I could manage absentmindedly.

I had a crush on Jonah.

“You want more fries?” Jonah babbled on as he sat across from me. “I kinda want more fries, but I can’t eat a whole other basket by myself… I also kinda got ketchup on half of them, and I know how much you hate ketchup… You know what, I’ll just go buy ‘em. My treat.”

This entire time Jonah had been smiling and then walked away, I barely had any time to process what was going on.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

*****

“You’re crazy,” Garrett said flatly.

“Garrett!” I snapped, looking around to make sure no one was listening in on our conversation, “Be serious!”

“I am being serious!” Garrett exclaimed. “I don’t know what you want from me! You have a work crush. Big deal. I have more work crushes than I do wheels.”

“Dude!” I groaned. “It’s Jonah…”

“Yeah, I got that part,” he assured me impatiently.

“Come on, bro, I cannot have a crush on Jonah!” I whispered.

“Why not?” Garrett shrugged, “He’s a good-looking dude—”

He caught himself just as he said it.

“Do not tell him I said that,” he muttered, “He doesn’t need it.”

“Do you really think I’m gonna be talking to Jonah about this conversation?!”

Garrett sighed. “Sophie… You have a work crush. On the work slut. Big deal; you have eyes.”

I groaned in frustration. “It’s a problem, Garrett!”

“Why,” he wondered, “Has there been the taping of a picture of his face to things? ‘Cause that’s usually when it becomes a problem.”

“Garrett, can you be real for, like, two seconds?!” I cried.

“I am being real!” he exclaimed. “I’m always being real! It’s kind of my brand.”

“Garrett, I’m a mother!” I reasoned, “I can’t be distracted by work ass!”

“Why? Fathers do it all the time,” he pointed out. “You think any of the Mad Men guys went crying to Jon Hamm when they found themselves ogling Christina Hendricks?”

“Well—” I paused. “Wait, does that make you the Don Draper in this scenario…?”

“Not the point!” Garrett interrupted me. “Point being, you need to just accept that you find him attractive, and move on, like a normal adult.”

“Ugh,” I sighed, as he seemed to get more and more fed up with me.

“Sophie, dude,” Garrett breathed, “You’re into the little pretty boy flirting with you. Big deal—”

“Wait,” I cut him off, looking at him nervously, “Is he actually flirting with me? Did he say something?”

Garrett stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widened.

“Garrett!” I cried.

“Dude, I don’t know what to tell you,” he reminded me, “The only person with any real insight as to how Jonah feels is Jonah. Anything else is just working you up for nothing. You need to either decide if that’s worth asking, or just accept it’s just a silly little work flirt, and move on.”

“You’re right,” I nodded, thinking. “…What do you think I should do?”

Garrett sighed, fully prepared to give his full, honest opinion.

“Honestly? I think… if it’s worth Marcus, what harm could Jonah really be?” he looked at me expectantly.

Damn, I thought, Garrett really had a point there.

“Look, I’m staying as far away from this whole situation as I would any other,” Garrett stated, “But I do know Jonah well enough at this point, probably better than I want to... But any terrible, or otherwise obnoxious thing he would do would only be because he’s Jonah.”

I nodded slowly, taking in that realization.

“He’s not gonna go out of his way to hurt you,” my friend assured me, “And he’s not gonna cheat on his girlfriend with you.”

I saw that he was absolutely right. The only reason I was afraid of liking Jonah was because of Marcus, and not Jonah. Fuck.

-

Chapter Eleven

[slyth-princess]

This is part one of my live blog post of RWRB. I’ll put it below the cut to avoid spoilers but if you want to see my mildly incoherent screaming… we’ll, this is the place lol!

Happy viewing friends.

- I love that they listed Alex and Nora as the first “who’s who” lol.

- Lol at Alex trying to ditch the reception

- My boy is jealous of Henry 😭

- Didn’t even make it in the door without downing a glass of champagne lol

- “When the revolution happens it will because of this wedding”

- Bea and Nora are amazing already

- Omg Bea didn’t even let Nora meet Henry before she stole her away

- Oh man Alex. You need to slow down love.

- Henry is dying

- Oh so THATS how he got the icing on his hand

- “We are the same height!”

- This is the best possible music for this scene, I can’t

- Fucking Bea “oh” as she’s trying not to die

- That intro was perfect. And I love these graphics at the start.

- Alex’s joke still sends me

- My darling Uma, that accent though, hunny

- “I was out polling the spice girls”

- The buttercream summit 😂😂😂

- Yay Alex is still smart and political!

- Alex and Ellen’s relationship is amazing. And Zahra is amazing.

- “Mitch McConnell eating a banana” “We’d ship the ashes to Heathrow” “No one in their right mind would give you a gun”

- These quotes are everything

- Oh my god Jonathan 😂😂😂 (“That’s my son your talking about”)

- Jesus Christ Henry is so fucking hot in that car. And in those sunglasses.

- I’m obsessed with how Henry says Alex’s name.

- Alex is already turned on and no one will convince me otherwise

- Henry is trying so hard to look uncomfortable because he’s angry and not because he’s in love

- The long pause before the “yup” lol

- Henry doing his best to not roll his eyes constantly lol

- “It happens more often than you think in the palace” oh my GOD Henry

- FIRSTPRINCE AROUND KIDS

- Oh god the fucking closet scene

- Alex’s fucking glare and Henry’s guilt and their fucking proximity I’m dead

- “You could have helped me and you didn’t”

- I’m glad they are getting so much of this out in the open and the little changes in the narrative are amazing

- ALEX AS A STRAWBERRY IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWED BY HEART EGES OH MY FUCKING GOD

- First complaint, that we didn’t get the conversation in the hospital

- WAS HE LOOKING AT HIS LIPS OH GOD

- I love his dad so much 😭

- That fucking shot was BEAUTIFUL

- MIGUEL OMG FLIRTING AND GETTING ASKED OUT WTF

- No. No. No one says eyelashes but Henry. Go away.

- His little smile when Henry texts him 😭😭😭

- Busting up in class. Running through the park. The GIF. CORNBREAD!

- “Perhaps this conversation”

- God I really am obsessed with them having all the conversations with them in the same room and not. God. The two of them looking at each other even though we know they aren’t.

- “Have I surprised you in any way” I’m fucking dead

- THEY DONT WANT TO GET OFF THE PHONE MY GOD

- There are some lines I’m sad we didn’t get so far but I’ll survive

- Alex has so much ambition, I love him

- “People like him more than they like you” “well they wouldn’t if they knew him”

- I do wish they had gotten to the party a little slower. It is going to make what comes next feel a little rushed.

- Pez is fucking everything

- A whole party of people and Alex only has eyes for Henry. A girl asks him to dance and he tries to bring Henry Jesus Christ. And then he watched him the whole time.

- AHHHHH THEY FUCKING GOT THE SONG

- Henry is drinking out of the fucking bottle lol and his little dad dancing

- Oh god fuck me the staring across the dance floor with everything slowing down and they just stare I cannot

- Even though I knew it’s still so hard to watch Henry’s puppy dog face get so sad

- “Who would you be?” “I’d be a writer, live in Paris, certainly date more.”

- God the kiss. The fucking kiss. I’m dead. It was even better than I expected s. Henry’s hands playing with Alex’s hair. Alex leaning in and totally kissing back. Alex watching him walk away. I’m not alive.

- I legit watched that kiss like 7 times

- Alex misses him so bad 😭😭😭

- “So… funny thing happened on NYE” lololol

- “More like the first 50 rows of a Gaga concert kind of gay”

- Pez and Nora… cuuuute

- I am missing the gay panic and Nora’s reaction

- Wtf does Alex’s rugby vs football mean? Lol

- I like this but they probably should have kept June and Nora separate because I think the two different personalities mattered

- I do appreciate the easy acceptance but I do miss Alex being totally ignorant to himself lol

- This is good but I do think they nerfed Alex’s character a bit

- Alex totally ignoring a topic he actually cares about in favor of Henry is adorable

- THE FUCKING RED ROOM ALEX BABY YOY AGE SO AWKWARD

- THE MAKEOUT OH GOD THAT WAS SO HOT

- “Are you still?” “Like Stonehenge.” “His Royal Hardness.”

- The ass grab I fucking CANT

- “Yeah, tell me”

- Henry is so fucking into this. He’s gobsmacked. He legit froze for like 5 whole seconds.

- Alex is so confident and Henry is so here for it

- The classic “this changes nothing” of a RomCom. Of my sweet summer children.

- Alex is way less shocked by the when than expected.

- Oh god the little whimper. I’m unwell.

- WE STAN A BI KING

- “Are they known for their homosexual tendencies?”

- Jesus the way they look at each other. And Alex’s look when he says it has to be casual. Dear fucking god.

- They are so sweet and so awkward I love them

- Henry is so sarcastic I adore him

- Henry’s little head shake when he left the room. And he looked so FUCKING HOT in that doorway. Gawwwwd.

- Alex looking at him playing polo. Me too, babe. Me too.

- I loved the way they did the polo hookup was amazing

- They have so much fucking chemistry oh my god

- “He is” OH MY FUCKING GOD

- They are so good together. They play off each other so well.

- Alex wants to grab his hand so bad when he’s sad

- “Can he ever belong to someone else?” My poor baby 😭😭😭

- I need the picture of them in front of the window with the Eiffel Tower in front of them

- “I think we should make love tonight.”

- This scene is everything. They are so sweet together. And so flirty. God I love them so much.

- Oh my god. Oh my god. I have no words. This scene is everything. They managed to make that hot and romantic and sweet and everything it should be.

- This conversation after is so damn sweet

- And that right there is a man in love. He’s so happy. His little smile on the plane. God I’m so glad I know how it ends.

- I know the scene between Alex and his mom is heavy but I’m also dying over Alex in that Henley. He looks gorgeous.

- I’m really glad Ellen came around fast. And I’m glad he’s going to Texas.

- I don’t love the fact that his parents are married. And now I’m pretty sure the lake house is going to be very different. Though I do love how active he is.

- The emails. THE EMAILS.

- HE CALLED HIM DEAR

- “And then I want to lick it off”

- I’m obsessed with how important Alex is in this

- Ah. I see it now. It’s going to be Miguel who outs them.

- The way Henry looks at him when Alex says he hasn’t seen the movie he loves. They are so damn cute.

- “Where IS she?”

- She’s legit crawling all over the furniture. Zahra is so funny.

- “Technically I’m the spare” these idiots

- “You, little Lord Fuckleroy” 😂😂😂

- How was that scene even funnier in the movie 😂😂😂

(Pausing here because this post is a monster)

[elsanna-shenanigans]

December 2023/January 2024 Contest Submission #9: a pinch of salt

Words: ca. 5,000 Setting: modern AU Lemon: no CW: none

With a low grunt, Elsa lifted the bag of flour to spill into the industrial mixer. Holding her breath and turning her head away while a puff of flour wafted out of the steal bowl. She didn’t need to measure, the cupcakes she was making required the entire bag and if it was a little off, no one ever seemed to notice. This wasn’t Paris anymore after all.

It was a big shift from quantity over quality. She still did her best on the more specialty confections, the ones in smaller batches. But with these cupcakes, she simply couldn’t, they were made and bought in mass.

“Good morning sweetie,” Elsa’s mother said, pushing open the back door with her shoulder. Letting in both the sounds and smells of the city. It closed with a soft thud and the noise in the back room was once again just the hum of the equipment. “I got you a latte.”

“Mom, we can make lattes here.” Elsa sighed, crumbling the empty bag and brushing off her apron.

“Yes, but that little shop on the corner has the egg sandwiches your father loves. And I just want him to be happy, he’s really struggling.” Iduna dipped her head and placed a small paper bag and a coffee cup on the counter near Elsa. 

“I know.”

“I got you some food too, I can’t just go in there and buy one sandwich, that would be weird.” Iduna laughed, it sounded a little forced but Elsa chose to ignore it.

“Well, you can, but thank you I didn’t have time to make anything.”

“Hmm, I figured and you can drink this coffee now while I get our machine set up.”

“Thank you, Mom.” Elsa opened the paper bag and took out the egg sandwich. her mom smiled and disappeared through another door that led to the upstairs. She glanced over at the mixer, debating for a moment before she leaned back and ate. Better to eat it while it’s hot, the cupcakes could wait a few minutes.

***

“And that wraps up today’s cafe adventure, make sure to leave a comment with your suggestion for my next cafe. Thanks for watching!” Anna smiled and held of the peace sign, counting to three in my head before she flipped the phone around and stopped the recording.

She took a sip of her drink and looked around the busy cafe, glad that she had long since grown out of being embarrassed of filming herself in public. Truly no one really cared, specially in cafes where folks were in and out with a snack and drink or deeply buried in their work of choice — hunched over laptops. 

Anna pulled out her own laptop, a few minutes later she was deep in editing mode, headphones on, computer glasses askew. A little notepad sat next to her where her marked notes for a voice voice she would record later.

The cafe thinned out around her, settling into the mid-afternoon calm before the teenagers and after-workers descended in masses. This was Anna’s favorite time at any cafe when she could really look around and enjoy the decor and little unique touches. This place was rather ordinary. Anna found herself stretching to come up with some positive things to say.

“Miss, we have two hour limit unless you buy something.” A tired looking barista said.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’ll just pack up and get out of your hair.” Anna smiled and the barista just sighed and nodded, drifting off to another table. Anna debated buying something on her way out as an apology, but the only non-drink items were some basic-looking chocolate chip cookies. She shoved her laptop in her backpack and shouldered.

“One cookie please,”

“Sure,” the person behind the counter said, scooping the cookie into a paper bag and handing it over in one smooth action.

Outside the cafe, the early evening was just starting to kiss the city, long shadows and slow traffic. She started walking, no destination, just to wonder till it got dark and then she would navigate the subway system home from wherever she ended up.

She passed a homeless man, sitting on a small blanket with his back leaned against a wall. People passed without paying him much mind. Anna approached and he eyed her but made no other moves.

“Here, I just bought it,” Anna said, offering him the cookie.

A weather-worn hand reached out and grabbed the bag, “Thank you, young lady.” He said offering a smile.

Anna returned it before continuing, hopefully the cookie would brighten his day a bit.

“Jimmy get the door.” A woman shouted once Anna rounded a corner. Only Anna didn’t see a woman, she only saw a stack of purple boxes wobbling towards a waiting town car and a panicked-looking young boy who was opening the door while his eyes, wide and frightened, stared at the stack of purple.

Anna held her breath but the woman was able to safely get the boxes into the back seat and she breathed out a sigh of relief at the same time as the boy. The pair of strangers disappeared into the car and it pulled away into traffic. She glanced at where the woman had come from and was surprised to find a combo cafe and bakery.

She pulled out her phone and googled the location. ‘Fjord Flavors Bakery’ popped up on maps but lacked a website or any social media. Anna’s interest spiked, this could be the hidden gem she’s been looking for for her web series.

She walked up to the door at the same time someone did from the other side of the glass. A woman. Tall and blonde, stood inside the shop. She looked at Anna for a moment as if waiting for something before she reached up and flipped the sign on the door to closed. She pointed with a long finger to a faded paper sign with hours before turning her back and walked away.

Anna was left speechless and intrigued, she needed to know more. She attempted to look through the windows at the bakery counter but the lights were flipped off and Anna was left staring at her own reflection.

***

Elsa pushed through the door to the back and hung up her apron. It was quiet now in the back room save for a faint hum from the walk-in fridge.

“Hi sweetie,” Iduna said, opening to door to the apartment upstairs. “I scrubbed the floors and wiped everything down already. You just need to take the trash out.”

“Thanks Mom,” Elsa said, rolling her sleeves up. “What did you want for dinner?”

“Oh, your father really wants Chinese takeout if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that will work,” Elsa said with a sigh. “I’ll just get my usual. I’ll be up after this.”

“Alright sweetheart, I’ll call Wok The Block.” Her mother disappeared through the door. Elsa took the trash out, wrinkling her nose at the smell and pretending not to see the rats scurrying away from the shared dumpster.

She looked up at the glowing window of the second floor where she shared an apartment with her parents. This wasn’t where she had imagined herself being but life is weird like that.

“Hey dad,” Elsa said as she finally walked into the apartment. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m doing great honey, I think I can come downstairs and help tomorrow.” Her father replied, his voice raspy.

“That’s great dad.” Elsa forced a small smile, it was the same every day. But he was never well enough the next day. She often flipped between annoyed and missing the man her father used to be before he got sick, before Elsa came back home to help.

  ***

Anna held up a hand to shield her eyes from the early morning bright sun, well early for her anyway. She was making her way back to Fjord Flavors Bakery, she needed to scope it out and make sure they were okay with her filming a vlog in there. Most places had no issue but she always asked anyway.

The bakery was fairly busy with sleepy patrons and frantic-looking folks of intern age. It smelled like a lovely mix of coffee and fresh bread with a hint of sweetness. There were stacks of purple boxes in various sizes on nearly every counter behind the register and the sparking large glass case showcased everything from chocolate moose cake to simple bagels.

Anna was captivated, her eyes darting around the small shop, bouncing from various things in the glass display case to the handwritten menu board. She didn’t notice she was next in line till a warm voice cut through her thoughts.

“What can I get you this morning?”

Anna blinked and chewed on her lip. “Um, a vanilla latte and a—“ She looked over at the case, noticing the blonde woman from last night for the first time. She had a baseball hat pulled down low on her face, hiding most of it in shadow as she moved with an almost floating grace, putting goods in boxes or bags.

“Sweetheart?” The woman at the register asked again. She was older but looked much like the blonde woman, at least from what Anna remembered from the few seconds she saw her on the other side of the glass.

“A chocolate muffin please.”

“Good choice, you can tap your card when you’re ready.”  She didn’t wait for Anna to finish paying before turning around to begin working on Anna’s latte.

As Anna waited for her latte and chocolate muffin, she couldn’t shake the feeling of anticipation that fluttered in her chest. The bustling atmosphere of Fjord Flavors Bakery seemed to envelop her. She pulled out her phone on instinct, realizing at that moment that she forgot to ask about filming, too distracted with the baked goods. And, if she was honest, the younger of the two women behind the counter. Something about her just captivated Anna.

Lost in her thoughts, Anna’s eyes inadvertently met those of the mysterious blonde woman. A brief moment passed between them, a flicker of recognition that left Anna both intrigued and slightly unnerved. The woman’s gaze was penetrating, as if she could see through Anna entirely.

The older woman at the register, likely the mother of the intriguing figure behind the counter, smiled at Anna, snapping her out of the momentary trance. “Sweetheart, your card didn’t go through.”

Anna fumbled for her wallet and tapped her card again, grateful for the distraction. Once the reader beeped the older woman nodded her head and handed over her latte and muffin — enclosed in a little purple bag. Anna stepped away from the counter and took a sip of her latte before turning on one heal — committing before she could change her mind, and approached the younger woman who was still engrossed in her work.

“Hi,” Anna began, her voice carrying a hint of nervousness. “I was here last night, and I’m Anna, and I’m a food blogger. I was wondering if it’s okay for me to film a vlog here. Your bakery is so charming, and I’d love to share it with my audience.”

The blonde woman, her eyes still concealed beneath the shadow of the hat, looked up from her task. There was a pause, a moment of silence that stretched, leaving Anna wondering if she had overstepped a boundary.

But then, to Anna’s surprise, a small smile tugged at the corners of the woman’s lips. “Sure, you can film. Just try not to get in the way too much. We’ve got a busy morning ahead.”

Anna beamed with gratitude, her excitement bubbling over. “Thank you so much! I promise I’ll be quiet as a mouse. Your bakery is truly special, and I want to capture its magic.”

The woman’s smile vanished. “Can you not put my face in your video? You can film my mom, Iduna, she loves attention.”

“Yeah of course, no problem-o uh… I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name.”

“Because I didn’t give it, I usually don’t, but maybe I’ll tell you.” The blonde shrugged and turned around to busy herself with some other task, effectively ending the conversion.

Anna retreated to a corner, setting up her camera and adjusting the frame. The bakery’s ambiance, the hum of activity, and the tantalizing aroma of fresh pastries served as the backdrop for her vlog.

As Anna began recording, she couldn’t help stealing glances at the blonde woman, who continued working with a quiet intensity. The exchange between them felt charged with unspoken intrigue, a dance of curiosity and captivation.

***

Elsa continued her meticulous work behind the counter, arranging pastries with practiced precision. The rhythmic hum of the bakery machinery and the murmur of customers created a familiar symphony around her. She was engrossed in the delicate dance of crafting confections, her mind focused on the artistry of each creation.

The arrival of this new customer, Anna, occupied Elsa’s thoughts. She had observed the woman from beneath the shadow of her hat, curious about the stranger who had locked eyes with her the night before. Elsa’s eyes, sharp and discerning, followed Anna’s movements as she fumbled for her wallet and paid for her order.

Her mother, ever knowing glanced her way and gave her daughter a smirk. Elsa could swear that woman was some kind of mind-reading witch sometimes.

When the woman turned away from the counter, Elsa felt her heart sink a little only to have it completely flip over and she couldn’t help but feel a flutter of anticipation as she approached. There was something about this food blogger, Anna, that piqued her curiosity, a blend of charm and nervous energy that resonated with the essence of the baking itself.

Anna’s voice, smooth and kind sounding, reached Elsa’s ears and rang through them like a gentle song. The request to film a vlog seemed to echo through the busy bakery, and Elsa found herself torn between the desire to share Fjord Flavors’ story and the instinctive need to guard her own privacy.

The moment of silence that followed stretched, and Elsa locked eyes with Anna. The intensity of the gaze exchanged between them held a silent understanding, a recognition of the delicate balance they were navigating. When Anna’s request was met with a small smile, Elsa allowed a fraction of relief to wash over her.

“Sure, you can film. Just try not to get in the way too much. We’ve got a busy morning ahead,” Elsa replied, her tone measured. The decision to allow the filming was not without hesitation, but she couldn’t deny the bakery’s newfound visibility had its benefits. They needed more customers, they were barely breaking even as it was.

Anna’s gratitude beamed like a ray of sunshine, but Elsa’s smile faltered when the request about her face being excluded from the video surfaced. The vulnerability beneath the confident exterior became apparent. “Can you not put my face in your video? You can film my mom, Iduna; she loves attention,” Elsa stated, her voice carrying a mix of firmness and vulnerability.

“Yeah, of course, no problem-o, uh… I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name,” Anna responded, her enthusiasm tempered by the subtle shift in the conversation.

“Because I didn’t give it. I usually don’t, but maybe I’ll tell you,” Elsa said with a shrug, turning her attention back to her tasks. The brief exchange left an air of mystery hanging between them, an unspoken understanding that some stories were meant to be guarded.

As Anna retreated to a corner to set up her camera, Elsa returned to her craft, the dance of creation resuming amidst the inviting aroma of freshly baked pastries. The bakery’s ambiance, now subtly altered by the presence of a camera, continued to weave its magic, leaving Elsa to navigate the intricate dance between visibility and the sanctuary of the shadows.

****

Anna’s vlog unfolded seamlessly, capturing the essence of Fjord Flavors Bakery with a blend of charm and authenticity. Anna highlighted the meticulous craftsmanship behind each pastry, the warm interactions between staff and customers, and the unique charm that set the bakery apart.

The mysterious blonde woman, now a central figure in Anna’s narrative, moved gracefully through the frames, her hands expertly crafting delicate pastries. Anna didn’t realize until she was editing how much footage she got of the woman. That was not like her to make that much B-Roll.

The vlog, however, resonated with Anna’s audience, who eagerly embraced the enchanting story of Fjord Flavors. Within a few hours, it was already set to be one of her top posts. This was truly the hidden gem she had been looking for — she couldn’t wait to get back and film more.

As the week unfolded, the bakery continued to buzz with activity. The patrons, now aware of the filming, exchanged smiles with Anna. The atmosphere was charged with a sense of community, a shared appreciation for the hidden gem that had captured their hearts.

As Anna packed up her equipment, a few days later the older woman approached her, her eyes reflecting a mix of warmth and curiosity. “You’ve got a way of capturing the soul of a place,” she said. “We’re glad to have you share our story.”

Anna smiled, touched by the genuine sentiment. “It’s a special place, and your daughter… she’s something else. There’s a magic about her.”

The older woman’s eyes twinkled knowingly. “Elsa has always had a touch of magic. It’s what makes Fjord Flavors what it is. Don’t tell her father I said that though, he built the place.”

“Elsa,” Anna repeated, tasting the letters for the first time.

“Hmm, I don’t think I was supposed to tell you her name. Silly old me.” Iduna said, failing to hide a smirk. She turned and walked away before Anna could reply, disappearing into the back room.

“Elsa.” Anna repeated to herself as she glanced over to the counter again where Elsa herself was polishing the top of the glass case. Her hat pulled down so low that Anna could only see the very edge of her chin.

***

Elsa wiped her hands on her apron, the remnants of flour clinging to the fabric. The bustling activity of the bakery had quieted as closing time approached. Iduna, joined her behind the counter, offering a weary but affectionate smile.

“Another day is done,” Iduna remarked, her eyes reflecting a mix of exhaustion and resilience.

Elsa nodded, the weight of responsibility settling on her shoulders. “Let’s clean up and head upstairs. Dad’s probably waiting.”

Together, they moved with a practiced efficiency, tidying up the bakery with a shared understanding of the routine. The aroma of the day’s creations lingered in the air, a comforting scent that masked the underlying concerns both women carried.

Once the last tray was stored, Elsa locked the front door. They ascended the narrow staircase that led to the second floor. As they entered the apartment, the atmosphere shifted from the warmth of the bakery to a more intimate, subdued setting. The living room was adorned with family photos and traces of the life they had built together. Soft light illuminated the room, casting a gentle glow.

Elsa’s father was in his favorite chair, a worn blanket draped over his frail shoulders. His eyes, once vibrant, now held a weariness that spoke of battles fought within. Despite his illness, a flicker of a smile appeared and he sat up straighter as he saw Elsa and Iduna enter.

“Hey, Dad,” Elsa greeted, her voice carrying a mix of tenderness and concern. It had been months now and he hadn’t shown any progress. “How was your day?”

He coughed softly, a reminder of the fragility that had settled in and Elsa was painfully reminded that they couldn’t afford the medicine that could help him. “Same as always, sweetheart. You girls working too hard down there?”

Iduna leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You know us, always keeping things running.”

Elsa fetched a glass of water from the kitchen, handing it to her father. As he took a sip, his eyes met Elsa’s, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. The weight of their shared reality hung in the air.

“I’ll start dinner,” Iduna suggested, attempting to infuse the moment with normalcy.

Elsa remained by her father’s side, her hand gently resting on his. “You doing okay, Dad?”

He sighed, his gaze distant. “Just tired, sweetheart. But seeing you and your mother’s faces at the end of the day makes it all worthwhile. Your mother tells me the bakery has been a video-er the last few days.”

“Yes, we’re not paying her but it seems to be helping business.”

“I heard she’s really sweet and pretty and your mother told me I have to tell you to talk to her.” A familiar twinkle danced across her father’s eyes.

“I’ll try Dad.” Elsa replied, not sure how much she believed her own words.

Her father smiled and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Elsa squeezed his hand, a mixture of love and sorrow coursing through her. The trio settled into the familiar routine of an evening together, finding solace in the shared moments that transcended the challenges they faced.

As the evening unfolded, the soft hum of family echoed through the apartment—a fragile melody that held within it the strength of love, resilience, and the unwavering bond that anchored them in the face of life’s uncertainties.

***

The following week unfolded with a rhythm of anticipation as Anna returned to Fjord Flavors Bakery. The atmosphere had shifted subtly as if the bakery itself recognized the growing curiosity that surrounded it.

Elsa, the elusive figure behind the counter, continued her work with a quiet determination. Her hat pulled low, veiled her expression, leaving Anna to wonder about the stories concealed beneath the surface. The name “Elsa” echoed in Anna’s mind like a secret she was on the verge of unraveling.

As Anna set up her camera for another day of filming, she couldn’t help but feel a magnetic pull toward the enigmatic blonde woman. It was a dance of curiosity and respect, a delicate balance that Anna had grown accustomed to navigating.

The day unfolded with the familiar symphony of Fjord Flavors—the hum of machinery, the aroma of fresh pastries, and the chatter of contented patrons. Anna’s lens captured the intricate details of the bakery, from the artful arrangement of desserts to the interactions between staff and customers.

While filming, Elsa’s hands worked their magic with practiced finesse. The vlog became a canvas, each frame painted with the passion and dedication that Elsa poured into her creations. Anna couldn’t deny the magnetic allure that Elsa exuded, and her camera seemed drawn to the mysterious pastry chef.

As the day wound down and Anna packed up her equipment, Iduna approached once more, her eyes twinkling with a knowing gleam. “You’ve been capturing the essence of Fjord Flavors beautifully, dear. My daughter may be a bit of a mystery, I’m afraid. There’s a reason I suppose, but I think she needs someone to talk to.”

Anna nodded, grateful for the hospitality she had received. “Thank you,” she paused before continuing, weighing her words. “Do you think I’m the person to talk to her? I’m just a vlogger, I can’t say I’m really friends with Elsa.”

Iduna chuckled softly. “Well, dear, I watch your vlogs and I know my daughter,” She looked directly into Anna’s eyes, her expression hard to read. “Sure, sometimes the best stories are the ones left untold. But I have a feeling Elsa might be willing to share a bit more, given the right nudge.” She winked and walked away.

Encouraged by Iduna’s words, Anna glanced over at Elsa, who was now meticulously arranging a display of delicate pastries. The hat cast a shadow over her features. Anna swallowed, she wanted nothing more than to have a meaningful conversation with Elsa. Even with her face covered, the woman drew Anna in like a moth to a flame.

Approaching Elsa with a newfound resolve, Anna couldn’t suppress the curiosity that fueled her, if Elsa was a cliff, she willingly jumped over the edge.

“Elsa?” Anna began.

Elsa jumped and visibly tensed, forcing Anna to fall silent. She turned slowly, cold blue eyes locking with Anna’s. There was fear there, a panic that stirred under the surface. And Anna wanted nothing more than to reach out and calm the storm.

“Elsa?” Anna tried again and was met with a scowl as Elsa rushed forward and placed a hand over her mouth.

“How did you learn my name?” Elsa demanded in a hushed whisper. Anna was distracted by how close their bodies were, never mind the strong hand over her mouth. With Elsa this close she could really see her face and the delicate features, the sharp cheekbones, the soft lips. She was beautiful.

She looked familiar…

Someone cleared their throat on the other side of the bakery and Elsa stepped back, letting her hand fall but her eyes never left Anna.

“Come into the back, we need to talk.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Anna mumbled, she ran over to her bag and scooped up her belongings before following Elsa behind the counter and through the door into the back room.

***

The back room offered a small reprieve from the prying eyes in the bakery. Elsa closed the door behind them, the muffled sounds of the bakery now distant. She turned to face Anna, the air between them charged with unspoken tension.

Anna broke the silence first. “Okay, spill. Why the secrecy, Elsa? Which, by the way, your mom told me, alright?”

Elsa sighed, feeling the weight of the years of hiding settle on her shoulders. “I’m sorry I touched you without asking, it just caught me off guard and I got scared.” She took off her hat and ran a hand through her hair, letting her bangs fall. “As for the name thing… well, that’s on me. I should’ve been more careful I guess. But the secrecy, it’s a long story.”

Anna grinned, and Elsa could sense her eagerness and curiosity. “Long stories are my specialty. Lay it on me.”

Elsa motioned for Anna to sit at a small well-worn table in the corner. The old chair creaked as she sat down and gathered her thoughts, her gaze fixed on the floor. She was so tired of hiding, but so scared of being open. Yet this weird nerdy girl with a camera that kept coming back day after day had worn down a wall. And Elsa felt this urge to open up to her. Anna felt safe, and she liked that feeling.

With a sigh, she decided to just open the floodgates and see what happened. “I used to be a TV chef, you know? A pretty famous one, actually,” Elsa began, the memories stirring a mix of nostalgia and regret. “I had my own cooking show, traveled the world, won awards. It was everything I thought I wanted.”

Anna’s eyes widened with genuine surprise. “You were a TV chef? Seriously? That’s amazing! That’s why you look so familiar, I used to watch your shows. I was so upset you lost Iron Chef, that judge was stupid. Why’d you stop?”

Elsa sighed again, the weight of the past pressing upon her. “It’s a glamorous life, but it comes at a cost. The constant scrutiny, the pressure to maintain an image. I felt like I was losing myself. And then my dad got sick. So, one day, I decided to step away. I came back here, to my family’s bakery.”

Anna’s excitement tempered with understanding. “But why the secrecy? You could’ve been a sensation, Elsa! People would love to know the famous TV chef behind Fjord Flavors.”

Elsa’s eyes met Anna’s, revealing a vulnerability that went beyond the façade she had carefully crafted. “I don’t want the fame, Anna. I found solace here, away from the spotlight. I wanted to be able to focus on my dad and help him, and I did till my money ran out.” She picked at a piece of dried flour on her apron. I didn’t want people to see the TV chef; I didn’t want the food critics coming here and tearing this place apart just because I was famous. I just wanted them to enjoy the pastries.”

Anna nodded, absorbing the sincerity in Elsa’s words. “You’re not just hiding from the world; you’re hiding from your past. From who you used to be.”

Elsa simply nodded.

Anna’s gaze softened “You know, Elsa, I get it. Fame isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be. But your story, it’s captivating. People would understand.”

Elsa offered a small, appreciative smile and stood up. “Wait here.” She ran up the stairs into the apartment, pausing to check on her father who was softly snoring away. After grabbing the box she was looking for she ran back downstairs to find Anna looking around at the various machines.

“Look, I don’t know if this is the right thing or not, but if anyone was going to break the news that Chef Elsa has been here in this little bakery, I want it to be you.” Elsa held out the box to Anna who took it with a confused look.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a bunch of my old TV stuff, tapes, and photos, things you can use in your video. Everything in that box is all yours, consider it a gift.”

“No Elsa, I can’t take this,” Anna said, handing the box back. “You kept your privacy for so long, why now suddenly?”

“Because maybe you’re right. I thought people would judge me. But as you pointed out, people would understand. And I’m selfish for not using my fame to help my dad. So here we are.”

“Okay, but I have a better idea than I box of the past.” Anna bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling.  “Two things, first, let’s let up an interview and I’ll film it. Second, let’s go on a date, get dressed up, have some drinks, and just talk about whatever.”

A warm feeling bubbled up inside Elsa and she couldn’t help but smile. “You mean that?”

“Well yeah, I have my camera stuff with me.”

“No, about the date?”

Anna’s face turned bright red. “Oh I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have overstepped, I just thought that uh… I’m sorry.”

“Hush, I would love to go on a date with you. I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

[maribatz-2k]

Child of Mine

09/06/2023

Chapter 16

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August 8th, Talia sent Damian out on secret mission. It was to infiltrate and remove the traitor of the league. He was only given a photo, but no name or information on his target. He set out by plane to Paris, France, spending the twenty – four hours in the air to form his plans to take her out. He studied the photo seeing what he should know about this person. Damian couldn’t remember much since he was revived a couple years back, but something about this traitor was setting his insides in uncomfortable feelings. His mother had said this person had left the league after he was born, escaping death by his grandfather. He wondered why his mother did not go after this woman herself, but he didn’t question her. His mother’s wrath was not one to be taken lightly. He allowed himself to rest the last five hours of flight, deciding he will occupy an empty location and monitor from there. This job should not take no more than a week at most, if he is lucky, it will only take him twenty – four hours upon arrival.  

Damian arrived at the airport and swiftly avoiding security as he huddled behind a couple who were too preoccupied with themselves to notice. Once alone, he walked along the sidewalk taking in the sites and view of Paris. The Eiffel Tower can be seen from everywhere it seems. He wandered the big city checking his surrounding, taking in the best places for action, and looking for the traitor. She could be anywhere in this city, so his search may take longer than he expected. Without the name, he couldn’t look her up on the French database like he wanted. But obviously his mother was using this for training purposes. He knew his grandfather was going to make him the new head of the League, and this was just one of many steps to get to that point.

A familiar smell caught his attention and caused his trained stomach to rumble.

“الصمت الآن ، أنت لست جائعا” (Hush now, you are not hungry) He mumbled to himself. Despite chastising himself, he followed the smell to a bakery that sat across the park. It must be a very popular location if the line out front wasn’t an indication. He watched as people entered and left with smiles and bags of food. Some even sat at small, tall tables conversing and eating said treats. The familiar smell once again attracted his attention and he spotted a treat much like the ones he was given from his mom once a year, the semolina cake. Why is this treat made here? He thought to himself. He wanted to get one to see if it was the real thing, only Damian froze in his place. There, passing out pastries to the line of waiting customers, stood his target.

She was taller than he imagined. Standing 5’2”, slim fit figure, long raven hair braided across her left shoulder, and dressed in casual designer fitted blue jeans. He watched her from his spot by the light post and watched her profile change based on her movement as she address each customer. He spotted her sapphire blue eyes shine with happiness when she interacted with children around his age, then dull with sorrow when she turned away from them. It made him concerned about this woman, but he quickly pushed that away, bringing his serious detached emotion back in the front. He turns from his location and goes back to finding an empty place to occupy until night fall.

Thirty minutes before sunset, Damian found the woman walking with a red headed woman and two others towards a cemetery, blocks from the Boulangerie Patisserie. He followed them by roof top until he couldn’t any longer, so he stayed to the shadows watching. The four of them laid out a blanket in front of a little gravestone, the semolina cake placed in the center, a candle, and five cups. One cup sat in front of a framed photo of a child filled with a sugary drink of sort. The burly man leaned over and light the candle as everyone sang a sorrow version of “Happy Birthday” in French. The traitor leaned over and blew the candle out tears sliding down her face. The smaller raven-haired woman place the cake up on the grave stone with the cup of juice. They all conversed until the sky was almost covered in stars.

Damian waited as the older couple pack up everything, embrace the traitor and the other woman, and depart back to the bakery. The women talked in hushed tones as they held each other staring down at the tombstone. The traitor leaned up and kissed the redhead then watched her leave heading back in the direction the couple disappeared at. It was now just the two of them.

“يمكنك الخروج ، أنا معجب أنها لم تأت لي عاجلا.” (You can come out, I’m impressed she didn’t come get me sooner.) The woman states. Her voice was melodic but stern, compelling Damian to step out of the shadows.

“Tu es assez petit pour un assassin.” (You're small for an assassin)Her speech changes to French as she looks him over as if trying to identify him. His face was partially covered from the nose down, his hood covered his hair, as his body was covered in black and deep red, his waist, arms, and legs holding all his small weapons. His katana strapped to his back. When he didn’t make a sound she changed her dialect to English.

“You feel familiar. But I would’ve remembered any small assassins the League trained when I was imprisoned there.” Her posture relaxes as she watched his movement. Damian was confused by her statement. Imprisoned? He thought to himself.

“I was informed you were a traitor and escaped death for treason.” His French was still rough, but his meaning was clear.

“Treason. Traitor.” The woman burst into laughter. Damian assumed this woman was insane. “The only treason I could have done was steal my son back from Talia and her derange father. But she was the one who betrayed me.” She stepped back away from the tombstone, giving Damain as clear look at the photo. The photo shows a younger version of himself with emerald green eyes, smiling like he had never seen death in his life. There was no way she had a photo of him, it had to be altered. This traitor must have known he was coming and created the illusion to distract him from his attempted death. The idea angered him. Damian turned his attention back to the traitor, griping his blades from his waist, and charged her. She dodged his attacks with ease, shifting from left to right, jumping over his small frame with calculated precision. The woman landed behind him positioning herself on the defense. Damian swings himself around and throws three knives at her, knicking her against her cheek, neck, and arm.

She let out a hiss of pain, shifting her stance but keeping her eyes on him. He jumped into the air to dive down into her abdomen with his blade, only for her dodge then send her knee square into his stomach. Damian let out a gasp of pain, losing his breath as he crumpled to the floor. Clearly the woman was holding back attacking him. She would have to protect herself if she did not wish to be killed by his hands. She would have to kill him.

“تبا.” (Fuck) He curses trying to take in breathes, he rips the mask down to assist him which made his hood fall, exposing his features more toward the woman. The same woman backed up letting out a shocked gasp.

“Alim?” Her blue eyes were wide and full of sorrow, confusion, and anger. Wait, her eyes are bright green. Like mine. Damian surveyed. Is Alim her son?

“How are you – Blast that woman and her stupidity.” The traitor speaks of his mother. He may not like his mother’s methods of care, but he will not tolerate someone disgracing her.

“Do not speak mother from your foul mouth.” Damian demands getting up off his knees glaring at the woman. He felt his anger rise further to the surface sure enough turning his recessive green eyes brighter.

“I suggest you stop challenging me.” The woman’s tone was harsh and darker than previously. “How did your mother say you were conceived child.” Damian kicked himself forward, charging for another attack with his katana instead. He aimed for her legs to knock her down a peg. He just wasn’t expecting the woman to flip herself backwards and kick his katana out of his hand and catch it. She slams the blade into the tree behind her and glared at him with full demand.

“How old are you.” She demanded again. Damian was forced to answer despite fighting his instincts to not.

“I just turned eight.” He answered through gritted teeth.

“Very young indeed. Either she kidnapped you too and trained you, or you were conceived in the tube.”

“I was neither. I was born from the blood of my mother and father.” Damian watched the woman flinch from his words. Something in her expression changed quickly from stern to pain, as if slowly recognition to something clicked.

“What is your name?” She asks. Her tone softer as she green eyes lose more of its color slowly returning to sapphire.

“Damian Al Ghul. Son of Talia, grandson and heir of Ra Al Ghul.” He states standing with pride.

“Damian.” She mouthed aloud, listening to how it sounds. “She told me once if she had the strongest son, she would name him Damian. Go home Damian. Talia was a fool to send you here for me. Give her a message for me.” She steps back as someone appears behind her with dressed in a blue and white spandex suit and bright red hair forming ears. Damian stepped back from the two as the raven-haired woman shifts her eyes to a stern look.

“Tell Talia, haben shelah khay khayim musharim lifney shehu met. el taase et otah taut paamayim." (her son got to live a happy life before he died. Do not make the same mistake twice.) This time she spoke in Hebrew then turned to the newcomer, preparing to leave with them. “Happy Birthday Damian.” Damian threw his hand out to grab the trait-woman in hopes to get more information but they disappeared through a portal. He rolled the words in his head over and over again, not understanding what the woman meant. He knew once thing for sure, his mother was not going to be pleased when he returns from this failed mission.

Alix dropped her and Mari in the center of the bakery floor and de-transformed. Marinette fell to her knees crying both in rage and sorrow. Alix had been watching the scene play out since her wife told her they had a visitor. She had walked back to the bakery and transformed after arriving, knowing she wouldn’t have been followed and headed back to the cemetery to watch the stalker. She wasn’t expecting to find out that Mari fighting a child. Let alone the biggest reveal to Mari. Her son.

“Talia had my son the whole time. My son.” Alix watched as Marinette hugged herself, fighting the tears that stream down her cheeks. Alix kneels down with her and hugs her to herself as tight as possible, stroking her arms. Once Mari calmed down to be able to think, Alix shifted to look down at her wife.

“What do you want to do?” Mari looked up decision clear in her eyes when she answers.

“I don’t know yet. But somehow, we’re getting our son back.”

Next

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[silverhallow]

🎭Fortunes Fool🎭

Chapter 9: Is it e’en so? Then I defy you, stars!

⭐️Masterlist⭐️

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Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett

Chapter summary: Romeo and his Juliet declare themselves

Warnings: LOVE CONFESSIONS

Word count: 1949

Benedict was a little nervous for some reason at spending the night at his girlfriend’s. He’d never done that before and when he asked Anthony for advice he was about as much use as chocolate fireguard as he reminded Benedict that he’d never actually been in a relationship and therefore this was the first for either of them and he would have to fill Anthony in on how to go about a sleepover but he knew it usually involved not a lot of sleep.

A night of sex with his girlfriend was something he was looking forward to but it felt like a big deal to spend the night with Sophie. It was a big thing, with them going off to University, it felt like a huge step and if it went well Benedict could possibly suggest they get a place together when they went off to Uni.

If he, Anthony, Kate and Sophie all went to the same Uni all four of them could share a place. The thought had made him really happy and excited for the prospect of the future.

He knew it was madness to get ahead of himself but the conversation he had with Anthony on the way up to bed after Sophie had left and it had made its way into his dreams.

He saw a life after University, he married Sophie, Kate and Anthony together, kids being best friends… everything just felt… perfect and real. He saw three little boys, a little girl the image of her mother in his dreams 

By the time he walked to Sophie’s that night he felt like he was floating on air, he had all these romantic plans in his head, the idea of him, his brother, Sophie and her best friend all sharing a place. Of travelling over Europe with his beautiful girl, visiting the Louvre and taking her on a history tour around Europe. One day taking her back to Paris and proposing at the Louvre… he knew it was silly getting so ahead of himself but he saw his whole life with Sophie. Something about her just felt right and he felt happier than he had in as long as he could remember.

He made his way down the drive towards Sophie’s house, he had messaged her to say he was on his way, he had also stopped on the way to pick up some sunflowers and a bottle of wine. He was looking forward to an evening with just the two of them, they’d not really had a proper date since they had started seeing one another and he wanted to do something nice with Sophie. He would have taken her out tonight but when he suggested it, she had asked if they could just watch a film, get a takeaway and spend the night in and who was he to deny such a request.

Sophie was waiting and watching at the window for him and she had the door open before he had even gotten to the end of the driveway, a brilliant and bright smile on her face as she greeted him.

“Hey beautiful” Benedict smiled back as she beamed at him and kissed him softly.

“You know you don’t have to call me beautiful everytime you see me? I’m just in my sweats and a scabby old tshirt” Sophie said with a flush to her cheeks.

Benedict pressed a hand to her cheek “I think you look beautiful no matter what you are wearing Sophie, and I plan on telling you everyday for as long as you let me” Benedict said as he held the flowers out for her “here I got these for you, and this for us.” he said holding up the bottle of white wine. “I wasn’t sure if you were a white or red kind of girl so I thought i’d hedge my bets with white”

“I’ll drink either really. Red is more for a fancy night rather than chilling on the sofa, eating chinese food and having lots of sex” Sophie grinned

Benedict smirked “I’ll remember that for future then” he smiled at her as he kissed her. “What first?” he asked.

“Well I wanted to maybe erm… talk first?” Sophie said a little nervously.

“Sure of course, what did you wanna chat about?” he asked.

“Shall we erm… go to the front room? I don’t want to do this in the hallway” Sophie asked.

Benedict dropped his backpack on the floor and they headed into the living room, him following her, nerves swirling around in his own stomach wondering if maybe she was going to break up with him.

Not once thinking the comment about sex meant that she had no ideas about that but this was his first relationship afterall, he had no idea how they worked but when a woman walked to tlak, it often didn’t spell out good things.

He followed her in and took a seat next to her on the sofa in Sophie’s large living room, his heart beating madly in, his chest as he asked “so what did you wanna talk about?”

Sophie took a deep breath wondering how best to approach this “I… I erm… I’ve been thinking about where I actually want to go to Uni”

“Okay…” Benedict replied slowly.

“I’d applied to both Oxford and Cambridge not expecting to get a shot at either of them but i’ve got onto to do the entrance exams for both” Sophie explained “like I know you have”

“Right…” Benedict added wondering where she was going with it.

“I want to go to Cambridge. Not Oxford” Sophie said, eventually letting the words tumble from her lips “I know Kate said your entire family have been to Oxford and I don’t know what that will mean for us if you’re going to go to Oxford but I really like you Ben, I really do and I don’t want something as silly as us going to different schools get in the way but I wanna follow my dad’s footsteps, the Gunningworth’s have gone to Cambridge for like centuries and I know my surname isn’t but I am a Gunningworth and I want to keep up the tradition… what… why aren’t you saying anything?” Sophie asked as she looked at Benedict who was just smiling at her.

“You’ve not actually given me a second to say anything babe” Benedict grinned at her

“Babe?” Sophie said with a bemused look on her face

“Dunno, let right I guess” he grinned at her

“Okay well…” Sophie said encouragingly

“Your dad mentioned this to me the other day. Asked me what I’d do if you said you wanted to go to Cambridge,'' Benedict said with a little chuckle. “I wonder if he sensed that was the way you were leaning”

“What… what did you say?” Sophie asked nervously.

“Well he didn’t actually say out and out about you wanting to go to Cambridge but I did say I wanted to go to whatever your preference was…”

“But your entire family…” Sophie said, looking worried.

Benedict reached over and cupped her cheek “someone has to be the black sheep in the family” he grinned “I always assumed it would be Ant but I don’t mind and besides, two of my uncles went to Cambridge and one of their brothers’ did as well…”

“Your uncles?” Sophie asked

“George and Nicholas Rokesby married my Dad’s older and younger sister…” Benedict said “they’re Cambridge men, Andrew got into Cambridge but went off and joined the Navy, Edward did a year before joining the Army instead” Benedict explained “but my grandmother, the one who got me into Art, she suggested Cambridge was the better University for History of Art so… if you want to go to Cambridge… then we go to Cambridge” Benedict said with a smile

“So you won’t care if you go to a different Uni to Anthony?” she asked

“Will you care about going to a different one to Kate?” he returned

Sophie pulled a face as she thought about it “I mentioned it to her a while ago and she wasn’t bothered, she said it didn’t matter which school we went to, we’d still be best friends and it’s not like i’d not see her all the time, especially if she actually dates Anthony properly.”

“Oxford and Cambridge aren’t that far apart either so it’s not like you couldn’t meet up after classes and stuff” Benedict added.

“Okay then that brings me to my second topic I wanted to talk to you about” Sophie said with a little sly smile.

“Okay?” 

“What do you think about us getting a flat together? Like a student flat together” Sophie asked, a light blush forming over her cheeks as she managed to stumble the words out

“Yes!” Benedict said far too quickly, going bright red himself and then clearing his throat and trying again to try and be a bit cooler “Yes, that sounds… yes… absolutely…”

Sophie burst into a fit of giggles at his instant reaction and felt herself beaming at him as she burst into giggles as he looked apologetic

“Sorry that wasn’t very cool of me… just… I had been thinking about that very thing on the way over, it was actually what I wanted to talk to you about” Benedict said with a grin “I was going to suggest the four of us but if those two are going to Oxford then just the two of us works well… your dad won’t… your dad won’t mind will he?” 

Sophie smiled and moved a little closer to him on the sofa “well if’s a choice between me living with my boyfriend who he actually likes, or me living in some halls with any random Tom, Dick and Harry, I know who he would prefer” Sophie grinned as she moved closer still as she spoke.

Benedict realised what she was doing and pulled her onto his lap and kissed her “Babe… if you think i’m gonna be happy with you living in a unisex dorm…”

“Of course not” She giggled “but it’s the weapon I have to use against dad”

“Good because you’re far too hot for your own good and one day you’re going to realise that i’m totally not worthy of a goddess like you and I’d rather it not be soon”

Sophie giggled  “they’re going to have to pry you from my cold dead hands Romeo. You’re mine now” 

“Really?” Benedict smirked as he rubbed his nose against hers and a little gentle kiss to her lips.

“Yes. You’re mine and I am yours. Forever and always” Sophie said as she rested her head against his.

“I like the sound of that”

“Being mine?”

“Forever and always” he grinned

“I’m glad. I’ve never felt like this before Ben…” Sophie said softly as her green eyes found his blue “i’ve never felt so happy, so safe and loved…” she whispered

Benedict wrapped his arms around her waist and held her to him, revelling in the casual intimacy of the moment “ “Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.”

Sophie giggled softly but without missing a beat “ And yet I wish but for the thing I have; My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.”

Benedict felt his heart skip as he leaned in and kissed her softly “I love you, my Juliet”

Sophie couldn’t help her smile as she pushed Benedict back on the sofa “I love you too my Romeo, now show me how much”