#bc it was right there on the counter & what was i gonna use?? a Pen? get outta here!!

[screamingfrenchfries]

tame impala and tally hall are similar in how with tame impala people think it's a whole band but it's actually just one dude but with tally hall i thought it was just one guy before i found out they're a whole band

[sant-riley]

Domestic Simon Riley? 👀 -🪴

[With you] [Simon 'Ghost' Riley domestic headcanons]

(Romantic Ghost x Reader)

Summary: Simon is your disconcerning boyfriend, to most people it seems as if he'd be incapable of gentle touches and affection, you know better though.

More info: You're apart of 141, no one knows you two are dating, you are younger than him and are shorter than him in this.

Warnings: usage of the word Girl once but it is more geared towards fem! (This is so fucking self indulgent im sorry) possibly ooc for Ghost (idc tbh) , do these even count as domestic? Idk ive never dated someone, nothing else that I know of but do let me know if there is anything that needs to be tagged!

Ghost is so painfully subtle in public with the way he treats you, he'll never outwardly do anything romantic but his actions and how he looks at you while he does it makes people pause.

In your own quarters or homes though, its different.

He's extremely attentive to you, your wants, your needs, your dislikes, he knows it all, he classifies it as important as missions. Simon didn't have a good father growing up, he didn't get to see what a good husband was supposed to be like, he's learning from the bottom up and he takes it seriously.

You'll never have to ask him to make breakfast, he's always up before you and has it cooked on the table with your drink.

Knows exactly when it's the time you wake up, and if he's able he'll go wake you up personally, brushing your hair out of your face and gently running his fingers through to detangle it from your sleeping.

Despite how cute you are sleeping in just his large hoodie, he won't let you sleep in, y'all got stuff to do.

He'll pick you up and bring you down to the table, pressing a kiss to your temple, if that doesn't wake you up (you usually will look up for a real kiss), he isn't afraid to grab your face in one hand and just, smoosh your face, he knows you hate it but it's gonna wake you up bc you're trying to slap his hand away.

He sits across from you, but reaches out one arm across the table with his palm facing up so you can grab it whenever, he likes it when you play with his hands.

Don't get me started on Simon and washing dishes, he always takes over washing duty and let's you dry ‘em. But every other time, he's gonna let his hands stay wet and will tell you to “think fast” and flick water over you (if you truly hate it, he'll stop though)

you know that saying of peeling oranges? He's the biggest proof that there is somewhere out there that will do it for you without question. Doesn't matter what it is, if you don't prefer driving, he has no complaints about driving you everywhere, if you don't like washing your hair? Just tell him what products and what order you use them in, just sit there and relax.

If you wear makeup and you're too tired to take it off yourself, he'll do it for you and it makes me emotional.

In your shared bathroom, he sets you on top the counter and uses one hand to gently grab your chin, taking the remover and firmly rubbing off your eyeshadow/eyeliner/blush/etc, afterwards he'll murmer a “that's my girl.” (He loves you with or without makeup, but he loves you for you, doesn't matter which you choose to do that day or any day)

He covers the corners of the meeting tables when you bend down to grab at the pen you dropped, it's just second nature for him to protect you from hurting yourself. He's yanked you from the street, picked you up just with one arm to make sure you don't walk into something gross on the street, gotten in front of strangers who try and get in your face for something. His body completely covers your own, and he always has weapons on his person, he isn't afraid to resort to maiming someone for you, you're his number one priority.

Simon loves having you sleep on top of him, he finds the weight a good reminder that you're there, you're not going anywhere if you do, he'll notice right away. If you get up to go to the kitchen, he'll sleepily follow you and just stare at you for an uncomfortable amount of time til you realize he's there. He'll make fun of you too “You should know ‘m right here, what kind of soldier isn't aware-” “Simon, I'm literally in just a bra and boxers right now.”

He demands your attention, this is one he'll do on bass in front of others bc technically he can get a with it. You're next to a recruit he doesn't like? Suddenly there's papers on a recent mission he needs your signature on, or he needs you for special 141 training reasons (he wants you to come with him to the dining hall, he's hungry and he doesn't want to go alone)

Dude stands right up against your back, in every scenario. His chest is probably an inch away from your back. He's playfully called your shadow by Price and the rest of the guys.

He grabs your hips alot, usually just to rest his hands there, occasionally rubbing small circles into the flesh, humming.

Simon will try and subtly leave as well if you leave the room, he gives it 10 minutes before he makes his way out to find wherever you wandered off too 

Price finds it fucking hilarious, he'll look down at his watch and mentally countdown to when Simon makes his escape. Simon can fool most people but not John, the way Ghost will tap his foot and roll his shoulders are tell tale signs that he's had enough of being there.

He'll dance if you want him to, though he simply sways with you in his arms, if you're of a specific culture, he'll try his best to learn it but no promises, while he is fast learner and perfects everything he does, he's a big man, he's not that graceful.

Without thinking if he sees you're cold, he's stripping off his jacket to give it to you, he doesn't ask, he just moves behind you to drape it over your shoulders.

He'll take off his mask with you, and let you trace the scars that litter his face, let you trace his features too, he's fallen asleep to you doing it and he doesn't know how much you cried silently when he did.

Simon practices new jokes on you, to get your opinion of them until he can tell the others, the louder you groan the better the joke is in his eyes.

Soap asks why you don't even react anymore and you just sigh. You are tired.

When he's especially annoyed and done with the day, he just shoves his head into your shoulder, wrapping his arms around you in a death grip while he takes deep breaths, in the least weird possible, your scent and body so close to him helps him destress.

One thing he makes a huge point to do is to clean your guns for you, yes you should do it yourself but ever since y'all have gotten together, he's taken it upon himself.

He's scared, more scared than anything that something will go wrong when you're both not on the same mission, this is just a way he can ensure your gun will fire correctly and efficiently, that you can defend yourself when he isn't there.

Speaking of weapons, he gives you one of his personal knives for you to keep, he'll ask for it back only to sharpen it, everything has to stay in its best shape.

Likes when you drape yourself over him when he's sitting, alas he is just a man so he likes to feel your chest against his back.

Pulls you into his lap if you walk by, he'll let you get up if you truly want to but he'll position you to sit sideways and will rub your legs as he watches whatever is on the TV.

For anyone who has arthritis, Ghost will take the time to rub your ointments into your hands, he knows what weather makes then worse and keeps his own tube of it onhand so he's prepared.

He's always buying you things, he knows that it's not necessary but for him, it sees it as ‘if for some reason I fail at something else, at least I can provide this’ someone hug him he's fighting for his life.

Stocks up on every single essential you can ever need, your comfort food and snacks? Always on base and always at your flat, if you two are walking around the shoppes and he sees you eyeball anything, bet your ass he's going online to order it for you immediately, and when it shows up, he just shrugs. He doesn't see it as a big deal, it's just money. Which is very cute but also a ps5 is NOT cheap sir, you can't just-

[meganslife]

Pen pals - p. parker (part three)

read part one and part two if you haven’t already!!<3

pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!reader

summary: as summer approaches, you and peter have plans to meet each other. also, who the hell is spiderman?

warnings: none :3

a/n: HOLY MOLY I AM POPPING THESE OUT VERY QUICKLY. i already have the 4th part written butttt i’m not gonna post it right away bc suspense is fun;) anyway, enjoy!

When June rolled around, You and Peter had a plan to meet in person. It was going to be a week-long visit. You’d be staying in Queens with Peter and May.

The trip itself was all planned out. You had plane tickets that Peter insisted on paying for, but you ended up buying them instead. You’d be landing in New York on July 1st, and leaving on the 8th. A week wasn’t nearly enough time to make up for years of letters, but it would have to do.

As mid-June approached, you’d been doing a lot of research on things to do in New York. One of the first things that came up when you researched was a vigilante named Spider-Man. You laughed at the name, thinking it wasn’t creative at all.

Then you texted Peter about it right away. Spider-Man was in New York, after all.

‘Who’s this Spider-Man guy?? Twitter says he’s in New York’

‘Spider-Man? He’s kind of silly.’

‘How so?’

‘Umm… He shoots webs out of his body and wears a spandex suit no matter how the weather is. Kind of silly and weird if you ask me.’

‘Are you researching about New York?’

‘Possibly. I was looking up things to do!’

‘Oh, sweetheart. There’s nothing that could prepare you for New York.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll find us things to do.’

‘I wanna see this Spider guy.’

‘Do you know what he looks like?’

‘He’s super mysterious. I’m not sure how to feel about it.’

‘I think that’s the point, Y/N. He’s a vigilante, you know? He probably doesn’t want anyone to know anything about his personal life. It could be dangerous for him.’

‘You’ve put a lot of thought into this.’

‘Thinking is one of my passions.’

‘Spider-Man has a really nice ass.’

‘PHONE ON THE COUNTER. NOW.’

Peter was slightly off about Spider-Man. You could just feel it. But, it didn’t really matter.

Soon enough, you’d be in Queens. You’d be eating May’s beautiful food and hugging Peter.

You fall asleep with your phone in your hand, and your heart full.

~

The last day of June finally came, and your heart was pounding while packing your suitcase.

It was surreal. In a matter of hours, you’d be over 2,000 miles away from home. The distance between you and Peter would be broken. You’d finally get the hug from Peter that you’ve been yearning for.

When you set your alarm for midnight to wake up for your flight, you couldn’t sleep. Peter was texting you so many sweet words. He was so lovely, you wanted to cry.

‘May is so excited to see you.’

‘I’m also really excited.’

‘I can’t even sleep.’

‘You’re gonna be even prettier in person.’

‘Peter, stop. I’m trying to sleep. I have to wake up at midnight and you’re waking me up with your sappy words.’

‘You love it;)’

‘See you soon, lovie.’

Eventually, you dozed off.

Peter, your pen pal for three years, was finally going to be within your reach.

You were beyond excited, but also slightly nervous.

Either way, it would be okay.

- read about me and find my masterlist here :3

[justadreamer08]

🄱 ~ 🄵🄻🄰🅃

wc: 1.5k

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x aviator!Reader

warnings: coarse language, fluff, mentions of alcohol and bars, most definitely some naval inaccuracies, no use of y/n (bc y/n is an unofficial oc and icky :D )

author's note: Enjoy!

Summary: You meet Bradley in the Hard Deck. The old honky tonk piano in the corner calling both of your names, you calling his heart.

R/N ~ Reader's name

R/L/N ~ Reader's last name

Callsign - “Magnet”

Masterlist

You walked into the Hard Deck, slipping your aviators onto your head. You squinted at the change in light levels, looking around the room. You'd been called back to TOP GUN to fly a classified Uranium mission. They'd called back the best of the best, and you did graduate top of your class. Clad in denim shorts, a white shirt, yellow Doc Martens with black and white strings, and a hawaiian print scarf strung through the belt loops.

It was late afternoon, so the bar had it's fair share of customers. The jukebox was playing, a group of aviators was playing pool, people were mingling, and the bar was lively. You walked up to the bar and knocked on it.

"What's it take for an aviator to get a drink around here?" you spoke in a playful tone. Penny turned around with raised eyebrows. Her face broke into a grin when she saw you standing in front of her.

"Mag!! How ya' been? You want the usual I'm guessing?" She spoke, abbreviating your callsign while whirling around to get your usual drink from the counters.

"Thanks, about as good as its gonna get. You?" You brought the drink to your lips, smiling behind the rim of the glass at her reaction. You'd always liked Penny. When you first came to Fightertown, you walked into the Hard Deck, and always found yourself wandering back. You lived on the outskirts of Fightertown, not far from where you are stationed from this mission.

"I'm going along!" she replies to your question, smiling apologetically when she has another customer to tend to. You smile understandingly and walk away and your attention is drawn to the piano in the room. It sits, waiting to be played. You'd loved music, especially older tunes. It's all your parents played around the house when you were growing up.

You walked over to the piano, tapping the notes of "Ain't no Mountain High Enough" in your right hand. Just the basic melody, when the jukebox music stopped, and people started circling the piano. You sat down, begining to play the entire song, while people sang along.

In the bustle, you hadn't heard the bell above the door jingle. Nor did you see the Adonis that was Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw that just walked in.

The group of aviators that were playing a game of 9-Ball started to have more conversations among themselves. When the door opened, the conversation grew.

"Bradshaw...as I live and breathe."

"Hangman. You look...good."

"Well, I am good, Rooster. In fact- I am too good to be true."

"Whatever Seresin..." Bradley chuckled, shaking his head dismissively at Jake. The piano died out as you got off the bench to refill your drink.

The stop in music, and the screeching of the jukebox coming to life grabbed the attention of the aviators. The only person who caught your movement was Robert, or Bob "Bob" Floyd. He lifted his glasses off of his face, and lowered them again in disbelief.

"Is that- holy- that's R/N "Magnet" R/L/N!" he exclamed almost fanatically.

"Come again Bob?" Phoenix questioned.

"It's Magnet! One of, no, the best pilot of their class. 5 air to air combat kills, survived 3 SAM's, and as vicious on the ground as in the air. Quite the reputation they have really. How do none of you know this?" Bob rambles.

All the aviator's eyes follow you as you walk to the bar. Rooster tilts his head in intrigue, tucking his glasses into his pocket, and walking over to you leaning against the bar.

“Thanks Pen” You pick your new drink as you turn to see a guy next to you, who you don’t think was there previously. Was he?

He smiles a friendly smile, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. He outstretched his hand toward you as he introduces himself.

“Hey, I’m Bradley Bradshaw, callsign: Rooster. Heard you’re an aviator like my friends and I over there, you wanna join us? Payback is racking up a game of 9-Ball.” He asks as you return his handshake. His hands are warm and calloused, although it wasn’t unpleasant. Toughened by constant use. This guy obviously wasn’t a WSO, he was definitely a pilot. You took in his frame, he wasn’t dressed like the other aviators. Then again, neither were you.

“R/N, R/L/N; callsign: Magnet.” nice to meet you. Sure I’ll join you guys.” you turned and started walking in the direction of the other aviators with him.

As you walked up to the table, Bradley introduced you to the rest of the aviators. You offered them a smile, and short wave. The WSO, Bob looked at you as if you hung the moon, completely in awe. You thought it was funny he was such a fan of you. Phoenix you found was the e only person with a semi-sane head on her shoulders; you liked her. The rest, Payback, Fanboy were all decent people. When Rooster introduced you to Hangman, a smirk fell on his lips, and he walked up to you, sizing you up.

“So…Magnet right? I hear you’re kind of good.”

“Yeah, Magnet, everyone always said I’m a magnet for trouble, although based on my stats you probably knew that already. And I’m not kind of good…I’m all kinds of good” you retorted with a smirk of your own, leaning against the pool table.

Hangman looked you up and down, and his smirk grew into a smile as he turned to Rooster.

“I like this one.”

Rooster smiled and shook his head dismissively, the tips of his ears burning red. He liked you too. You’re easy on the eyes, and you like music. He didn’t miss you playing the piano when you walked in. You seemed like you’d been here before; people loved you.

“Hey you guys are matching!” Phoenix called out pointing to his shirt and your makeshift belt. The two items of clothing adorned with hawaiian print. The both of you looked at one another and gave a small nod as of saying ‘huh I guess we are’. As he actually focused on you, he found himself thinking he’d take you on a date if given the chance. I men’s, you’d just stood up to Hangman, you were good looking, played the piano, like-able, and you had similar taste has him. He could hear his mom in his head already: Bradley if you don’t go on a date with this person! I don’t see how you could do much better than that, they’re perfect and you know it. You’re like your father in that way- impeccable taste. He laughed as he thought about his mom, when he looked back your eyes were fixed on his, and he felt his face burn red. You apparently found it amusing, a smile and a laugh slipping past your lips.

You continued small talk with the squadron, besting Hangman and Bob in multiple games of pool with Phoenix as your partner. Bradley had wandered away to the piano, and began to play ‘Great Balls of Fire’. He seemed to be in his element, fingers moving languidly against the keys, singing his heart out along with everyone else in the bar.

You joined in the song with a smile, cheering along with everyone when it was over. She. everyone dispersed and the jukebox was plugged back in, you walked up to Rooster and he looked up at you with a smile.

“How long have you been playing?”

“My whole life feels like, my dad and his best friend were in the navy too. Came here all the time, and loved that song. At least they did before my parents died. Haven’t seen Maverick- er, Pete since.” He spoke running the back of his neck awkwardly.

You nodded in understanding, letting your hand run across the top of the worn piano. As Rooster watched you, he decided he should listen to his mom’s advice.

“Hey, listen, would you maybe let me take you on a date? Get food, catch a movie, walk on the beach? Whatever you want!”

You smiled and tilted your head to the side.

“Really? I’m surprised you didn’t come up with some sort of weird pickup line like most guys here do, but sure I’d love to.” You spoke through laughs, and brought a relieved smile to Rooster’s face. He furrowed his eyebrows in thought.

“Oh, alright how about this for a pickup line?”

“Hit me with your best shot Bradshaw.” You leaned across the top of the piano.

He played some chords as he spoke.

“I think you should let me take you on a date so we can spend time together, walk along the beach, fall in love slowly and then all at once…why? Because my life without you would B-Flat!”

He landed on the note B-Flat on the piano as he finished talking. You both fell into fits of laughter, and talked for hours into the night. You left the Hard Deck hoping you’d see him again soon, although you could reach out to him whenever, you’d exchanged numbers after all. As you were driving back home, a surge of excitement hit you when you realized the group you’d made friends with were all aviators, and you could tell by the various accents, flight suit patches, and stories that they weren’t all from here. They were all coming back for the same classified mission you were. You definitely see him on base tomorrow and you couldn’t complain one bit.

~ The End

[karahalloway]

Eeeee!! This was such an amazing surprise to find on my Tumblr feed today! 🤗 Thank you for making the time to read and reblog - you know I always appreciate your emotes 😁

Ugh! Right off the bat, Maddie is insufferable! I admit though, I have very little sympathy for Pen, lol

And unfortunately, Maddy will continue being a massive pain in the behind for the rest of the series 😕 But I agree - Penelope definitely does not do herself any favours either!

Wouldn't Chris have something to say about her ott power trip?? ugh!

That gif 🤣🤣🤣🤣 My HC is that Madeline is the picture of perfection with Chris, and then turns into a psycho behind closed doors with everyone else 🫣 But don't worry - she will get her comeuppance (not sure if it will be this book or next book, she it's in the works!)

YASSSS! I love her!!!

I really loved writing Olivia in this chapter - she is just the no-nonsense antidote that Harper desperately needs to counter Maddy!

GRANDE!!!

🤣🤣🤣 Just a tad, eh?

OMG

I swear I had nothing to do with this convo - this just appeared on the screen and I thought it was perfect 😆

I don't know why that made me laugh, but it did!

Same!! 😆

OMG! Olivia! Laws are a thing, Duchess!

🤣

I love her, this has to be the most craziest thing she's done though! lol

Agree - bc if anyone is gonna kidnap anyone, it's gonna be Olivia!

Cordonia uses Ducats? Also, 3 million, really? Greedy rat!

So, yes - I researched a bunch of defunct currencies and liked the sound of ducats, so that's what I ended up using for Cordonia. Re the price tag, I researched the most expensive paparazzi photos / most expensive celeb photos ever sold to the papers, and went with an average (meaning 3 million euros is pocket change in this world 😕) If you are interested, article is here.

GET RID OF HIM LIV!

For someone who balked at the initial kidnapping, you have sure jumped on this bandwagon 🤣🤣🤣

As someone who only knows the basics of certain languages, this is soooooo relatable!

eeeeeee!!!!!

😁I am just as glad that he's back as everyone else! 🥰

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 19 - Field Day

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: It's off to the bridal boutique, but Harper and Olivia have a secondary agenda...

Word Count: 6,200

Rating/Warnings: M (royal bitchiness, possible emotional abuse, kidnapping, threats of murder)

Chapter theme song:

A/N: So, I have tried to keep everything as realistic and accurate as possible in terms of the locations that are touched on in this chapter. The only thing that is made up is the antique store. As usual, translations for the French and Italian are at the end.

Chapter 19 - Field Day

The five-minute drive to the bridal boutique is every bit as excruciatingly awkward as can be expected.

"What part of we are already running late is so difficult to comprehend?" derides Madeleine before the limo door even shuts. "When I tell you to hurry, I expect you to do exactly that!"

"I'm sorry, Lady Madeleine," stammers Penelope tearfully. "The heel of my shoe became caught on—"

"Save it!" the Countess of Fydelia snaps. "If you cannot do something as simple as totter down a corridor without breaking your neck, then frankly, I do not see how you are supposed to be of use to me."

Penelope's face turns whiter than a sheet. "I—"

"As lest you forget, I took you on as a lady-in-waiting as a favour to your family, given the historically close personal relationship between our fathers," Madeleine reminds her with a steely edge to her voice. "But that does not mean that I cannot send you packing just as easily. And if you do not get your act together, then that is exactly what will happen. Am I clear!"

"Yes," Penelope whimpers, lowering her gaze.

"What was that?" demands Madeleine imperiously.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And the same goes for the rest of you," adds Madeleine, casting the haughty gleam of her gaze over the limo. "One misstep — proverbial or otherwise — and you are gone. Not just from my employ, but from court as well."

Shifting my gaze over to Hana, I see that she is just as perturbed as I am about this borderline psychotic power-trip.

Talk about being a queen bitch...

Olivia scoffs from her seat in the corner. "How about you try making a threat you can actually carry out..."

Madeleine bristles. "As Queen I will have the authority to—"

"Do exactly what Christian permits you to do," Olivia interjects flatly, examining her nails. "As lest you forget, you will only ever be a queen consort — not queen regnant."

The Countess of Fydelia's eyes narrow. "That is but a technicality."

"I still wouldn't overplay my hand," Olivia cautions with a smile. "Wouldn't want to get caught out on a technicality now, would you?"

Madeleine glares down the length of the limo like a viscous viper.

"Didn't think so," smirks the Duchess of Lythikos as the driver pulls the vehicle to a stop...

...and the paps immediately descend on us like a swarm of black flies.

"What the—?" I blurt, catching the flash of the cameras through the blacked-out windows. "When did they get here?"

"Five minutes ago," replies Madeleine tartly, slotting a pair of shades on.

My jaw drops. "You... told them where we were going?"

"Of course," she affirms as the Royal Guard who had been riding shotgun manages to squeeze his way through the human press to open the door. "Royal patronage elevates the esteem and profile of any institution. It is only right that the press should be invited to cover the visit."

"Like that's the only reason..." I mutter as Madeleine steps out of the limo and the roar of the crowd becomes deafening.

"Contessa!" several people shout. "Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore!"

"It's horse shite, by the way," Olivia advises as she slides past me. "The only thing she is looking to promote is herself."

"Well, she definitely seems to be succeeding..." I admit, watching the Guards struggle to hold the photographers back as Madeleine sashays her way towards the doors of the boutique.

Olivia scoffs. "It's an act of desperation. Nothing more. She knows she is on thin footing with Christian... and the public."

"Great..." I groan, pulling Drake's blue aviators from my clutch as I, too, exit the limo.

Rather than being an unfortunate one-off, it seems like yesterday's altercation at the Apple Harvest Festival was actually the opening salvo in a concerted campaign of media brinksmanship that Madeleine is determined to win.... at my expense.

Yet, I'm just not sure I have it in me to play her contrived publicity game. The paps have already up-ended my life more completely than I would've ever thought possible, so the last thing I want to do is pander to their voracious appetite for scandal.

"Duchessa Harper! Duchessa Harper!" the photographers shout as I step out onto the sidewalk. "You made it to Italy! What do you think of the city so far?"

"You did not travel with the King and future Queen! Were you forced to make alternative arrangements because of your argument?"

"Will you attend the opera tonight?"

"When was the last time you spoke to your family? Is it true you cut all ties with them?"

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to keep my head down and my feet moving forward as the invasive questions zing over my head like bullets. Camera bulbs flash in my face as the photographers press in, trying to get that front page close-up...

...and that's when I spot him.

My heart skips an uncomfortable beat as recognition hits me like a punch in the chest.

Oh, my God, the photographer from Applewood!

He's standing in the second row, regarding me almost casually, like a tourist at a zoo, faded red baseball cap slung backwards over his head, just as in the picture Ana de Luca had saved on the flash drive.

Our eyes meet and I stumble to a stop, unable to tear my gaze away, my morbid curiosity overpowering my senses even as the paps close in around me...

...but then I feel the warmth of a hand on my back and the sound of a familiar voice brings me back to earth.

"Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle," Allard assures me, appearing at my side to shield me from the press invasion.

Glancing up, I see that Schweitzer has taken up position in front of me, using his body like a blocker to force a path through the crush.

Curling into the safety offered by my Guard's no-nonsense attitude, I let them whisk me into the boutique.

"Thank you..." I say sincerely as we pass through the doorway into the foyer.

Allard relinquishes his hold on me with a nod. "Certainement. Vous allez bien?"

"Yeah..." I reply, heart pounding as I try to recollect my bearings. "I just—"

"Oh, my gosh!" gasps Hana, stumbling into the boutique behind us. "That was horrible!"

"C'est le bordel!" agrees Kiara as she and Penelope manage to squeeze themselves through the press before the Guards shut the door. "Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?"

"She wasn't," Olivia replies flatly, shooting an accusatory glance over her shoulder at Madeleine, who is already being given a queen's welcome by the boutique's owner.

A tense silence descends as we all process this assessment.

"I... I suppose we should go through," Hana suggests eventually.

"Oui," Kiara affirms with a huff, smoothing the front of her dress. "Sa Majesté expects our assistance."

Penelope glances uncertainly towards the fuss being made over Madeleine. "I don't think she's expecting mine..."

"Don't be silly!" Kiara admonishes, looping her arm through her friend's to tug her forward. "She just had a petite éclat. Every bride gets nervous and she is under a lot of pressure to maintain constant perfection. But that is why we need to help her, non?"

Penelope looks like she's about to disagree, before finally acquiescing with a sigh. "I just miss Merlin and Morgana..."

"J'sais..." consoles Kiara, patting her reassuringly on the back of the hand. "Hopefully once the tour is finished, Madeleine will allow you to send for them."

"I doubt it..." Penelope mutters meekly as they join Madeleine in the store proper. "She said she hates yappy little dogs. You don't suppose they have anything here with poodles on them, do you?"

"I don't think this boutique specialises in that type of lingerie..."

"Oh..."

"I'm sure they have some pretty floral designs, though!" Hana offers encouragingly. "Italian lace is known around the world for its intricate rebrodè detailing."

"Yes, because that's what men care about on the wedding night..." Olivia mutters dryly, turning towards me. "You coming, or what?"

"Huh?" I ask, snapping my head up. "Umm... Yeah. Sorry."

"You better be," she snips disdainfully as she starts down the foyer as well. "I refuse to be the only sane participant in this clown show..."

I glance warily back towards the front of the boutique, where the paps were still battling each other, trying to snap a shot of us through the tastefully curated window displays.

"What?" Olivia objects after a beat. "No snide comment? No wry clap-back? You're not conveniently coming down with a sudden fever, are you?"

"I... I saw him," I admit, tearing my gaze away from the feeding frenzy outside.

Olivia grabs my wrist to yank me to a stop. "Saw who?"

"The photographer," I say tightly, pulling my arms around myself in a bid to stop myself from shivering, despite the record-breaking temperatures outside. "From Applewood."

"Dion Guillard..." clarifies Olivia, staring at me intently. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I nod.

Olivia purses her lips. "He could be here on his own volition, or because someone invited him. Either way, we should make use of this opportunity."

"How?"

"By making him an offer he can't refuse," she replies slyly, pulling her phone out.

My eyes widen. "You mean right now? But Madeleine—"

"Has enough sycophants coddling her already," she counters flippantly as she quickly types up a text. "We only have one chance to do this. Do you want the truth, or not?"

I swallow down the lump in my throat. "I do."

"Good," she nods, slotting her phone away again. "You don't mind if I borrow your hunks, do you?"

"Umm..."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she responds, clicking her fingers authoritatively at Allard and Schweitzer. "Meet me in the back in fifteen minutes."

Before I have a chance to respond, Olivia has already spun on her heel and is striding towards the rear of the store, my two Guards in tow.

"'Kay..." I mutter under my breath.

I have no idea what Olivia's plan is... much less how she thinks to arrange a clandestine meeting with the photographer under Madeleine's nose while there's an entire army of paps parked outside watching our every move.

But I've learned during the course of the social season that the Scarlet Duchess is as enterprising as she is resourceful, having pulled a number of successful ploys in a bid to advance herself in the competition. And Drake seems to trust her implicitly, otherwise, he wouldn't have asked her to keep an eye on me while he's off in Dubai.

So, it looks like I'm just going to have to trust her, too.

Taking a deep breath, I move towards the other end of the shop floor, pretending to peruse the various items on offer while I wait for the allotted time to tick down.

Luckily, Madeleine is busy loudly shooting down each and every lingerie option that is presented to her by both the boutique staff and her increasingly frazzled ladies-in-waiting, so nobody really notices when I announce a pretend visit to the restroom.

Slipping back out into the foyer, I move as casually as possible towards the back of the store, knowing that the paps are still watching me like hawks through the windows.

Rounding the corner, I allow myself to speed up a bit, casting my gaze left and right, looking for Olivia...

...when I'm suddenly yanked into a dimly-lit storeroom stacked with cardboard boxes and plastic-wrapped veils and dresses.

"Hey! What the—?" I protest as the door is shut promptly behind me.

"You're late," Olivia informs me dryly, clicking the lone light bulb on above us.

"Sorry, I had t—"

I reel back in horror as my eyes land on the bound and gagged form of Dion Guillard perched on top of a box of lingerie.

"Oh, my God!" I gasp. "When the heck did this turn into a kidnapping?"

"Ten minutes ago," she replies breezily.

I drop my head in my hands. "I am going to jail... I am literally going to jail..."

"Oh, ye of little faith..." Olivia admonishes, stepping over to the photographer.

He shrinks instantly back from her.

My brows shoot skywards. "Jesus Christ... What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," she shrugs. "Yet..."

A chill runs down my spine. Apparently, Olivia's reputation is more than well deserved...

"I presume you know who we are?" she asks Dion levelly, coming to a stop in front of him.

The man nods tightly, brows bunched together beneath the line of his baseball cap.

"And your current circumstances leave you under no illusions as to the lengths we're willing to go to obtain — by force, or otherwise — the clear and unvarnished truth?"

His gaze slips to meet mine for a second before sliding back to Olivia's to give her the barest of nods.

"Good," she smiles, reaching towards him. "Then this will go that much faster."

In one quick motion, she yanks the scrunched-up handkerchief from the photographer's mouth, making him wheeze.

"Sa mère la pute de—"

"Who are you working for?" Olivia demands, folding her arms.

Dion spits on the floor next to her feet. "I'm a freelancer. I work for—"

"We know who you are," Olivia interjects with a wave of her hand. "You're a lowlife slug who's willing to do anything to make a name for himself. You demonstrated as much when you sold compromising photos of my friend here to the press. The question is, who hired you?"

Dion scoffs. "Nobody hired me. I work for myself! That is what I've been trying to—!"

"Liar," Olivia accuses. "We know you didn't just stumble upon this by yourself. Who's your client?"

"Nom de dieu..." he disparages under his breath. "I told you already, I—"

Olivia is suddenly up in his face, knife pressed to his throat. "And I didn't like your answer."

Dion jerks back instinctively. "Your petite friend is correct... You are going to jail..."

"They'll have to find your body first," she tells him silkily. "What little will be left of it, anyway... Because no one here is going to the police. And I'm sure that your so-called friends out the front will secretly be glad for your unexplained loss. The freelance photography business is oh-so cutthroat, after all..."

"Tu es une salle grace..." he snarls through clenched teeth.

Olivia presses the knife tighter. "Then you should know that it's not in your interest to test what's left of my patience..."

Dion laughs bitterly. "À quoi ça rime? You say already that you will just—"

"What if we paid you?" I interject, stepping forward.

Olivia's head snaps angrily around. "Harper, stay out of—!"

"Paid me?" the photographer cuts in, eyes swirling to meet mine with interest.

"To give us the information we're after... voluntarily," I clarify, in a bid to avoid the impending bloodshed. "And to sell us the photos from Applewood."

Dion frowns. "I already sold the pictures to the papers..."

"Not all of them," I correct, hoping against hope that my gut instinct is correct and I haven't just torpedoed Olivia's interrogation for nothing. "You only sold the ones you were told to sell — the ones that fit your client's narrative."

Dion seems to assess me in a new light. "You come prepared... Fine. I'll do as you ask... for five million."

"Ducats?" asks Olivia.

"Euros."

I very narrowly catch my jaw from falling to the floor at the sound of the obscene price tag.

"You've been paid once already," counters Olivia. "The highest we can go is one million."

"Four," insists Dion, somehow managing to find the balls to negotiate even with a knife pressed to his throat. "There are a lot of pictures."

"Which no one else is willing to buy, so two is our best and final offer."

"Three," declares Dion. "And I'll forget this conversation ever happened."

Olivia purses her lips for a moment, before whipping the knife away with a flourish. "Fine. Start talking."

Dion lets out a low exhale. "I received a call some days before the Jamboree. The person had a tip on one of the Prince's suitors, and said it would make big news if it got out. Naturally, I was interested."

"Who was this person?" I ask.

"I don't have a name," he replies. "The tip was anonymous, and the call came from a hidden number."

"Was it a man or a woman?" Olivia queries.

"A man."

Olivia and I exchange a glance. Tariq or Godfrey.

"How did you get into Applewood?" I ask, turning back to Dion.

"A security pass was delivered to my apartment. No return address," he adds before either of us can ask.

"And that didn't seem suspicious?" I press.

"Demoiselle," he scoffs. "I am a paparazzo. I am not going to... How you Américans say? Count the teeth of a dog?"

"Look a gift horse in the mouth..." I correct dryly.

"Once on the estate, I took some pictures of the Jamboree — in the event, you know... nothing came of the tip — but then I received a message on my phone that the suitor in question was on her way back to her room with her paramour, andI should make myself ready."

"How did you know which room to go to?" I cut in.

"There was a blueprint of the manor included in the same envelope that provided me my security pass," Dion explains. "It was your room that was marked."

His words hit me like a kick to the guts.

It's been clear for a while that my run-in with Tariq has been anything but chance. But to learn the malicious extent of the planning that had gone into setting it up makes me want to actually puke.

Who was sick enough to even think up something so twisted?

"What then?" asks Olivia, diverting Dion's attention from my momentary muteness.

He shrugs. "I took the photos, and left."

"How?" I croak in disbelief. "How could you just stand there while—?"

"I am a journalist," he shrugs apathetically. "My business is to be impartial..."

"You watched me get assaulted," I hiss through trembling lips. "There is nothing impartial about that!"

He shrugs again. "Affairs are messy. Maybe you should choose your lovers more carefully."

I feel my fists clench at my sides as I take a step forward. "He is not—"

Olivia's hand pulls me back. "How did you deliver the photos?"

"There was no delivery," Dion counters with the same level of nonchalance that he's exhibited since he started talking. "I selected the best pictures and put them out to offer to the newspapers. The Sun offered the most for them, so I sold to them the exclusive rights to publish."

"That's it?" queries Olivia. "No one else was given copies?"

Dion scoffs. "Absolutement pas! Selling copies to anyone else would violate the license agreement with the most influential tabloid newspaper in the country! Why would I put myself out of business? I am not an idiot..."

"You didn't send any samples to the person who tipped you off?" I press, having finally managed to regain my composure somewhat.

"Non," he insists. "I said before — he was not a client. I have no obligation for him. And even if I did, I have no way to contact him because—"

"—the conversations were anonymous," I finish wearily.

Apart from lending credence to our suspicions that Godfrey may have had a hand in the set-up, this conversation has confirmed literally nothing.

The people involved in the plot have been too careful in covering up their tracks.

Which means that all our hopes now rest with Tariq... and Drake's ability to find him.

Dion nods. "C'est correct. And I told you everything you asked. We still have a deal, yes?"

"On the condition that you hand over all the remaining photographs — including any digital and backup copies — and disappear off to a godforsaken island somewhere," Olivia clarifies.

Dion nods eagerly. "Naturellement. I always desired early retirement."

"Good," she approves, cutting the bonds from his wrists with a cold smile. "Otherwise I will personally ensure that you don't live to spend a single Euro of your newly acquired millions."

The flash of the wicked-looking blade so close to his groin causes the photographer to blanch involuntarily. "Je le jure."

Olivia flashes him a cold smile. "We'll be in touch..."

"You're just letting him go?" I hiss into Olivia's ear as Dion pushes himself up.

"Unless you would prefer to dump him in the Tiber?"

I reel back. "What! No! I just—"

"Your instinct was right," she advises softly, as Dion gathers his bag and Allard escorts him back out. "He is an opportunistic shark. He just had to be made to believe that he was fleecing us."

My eyes widen. "So, you played bad cop deliberately."

"As you said, this is my area of expertise," she smirks. "And I knew you would not be able to keep your sentimentality at the door."

"Umm, thanks... I think..." I mutter. "But where are we supposed to get three million Euros from? We may both be aristos, but neither of us is Jeff Bezos..."

"The Palace has a designated slush fund set aside for these sorts of expenditures," Olivia assures me breezily, slotting her knife away. "Since you are now a member of the royal family, we'll just send the bill to Jonathan."

I slant her a wry look. "I'm pretty sure that's not what either he or Christian had in mind when they decided to clean up my image..."

"Oh, please!" she admonishes, stepping back out into the corridor as well. "As recently as last year, Constantine was authorising expenditures of five to ten million Euros to stop pictures of Leo shagging B-list actresses on top of various vehicles making it onto the front pages. Three million Euros is trump change for the Rys."

"If you say so," I concede, my mind still reeling from astronomical sums of money that had been so casually bandied about. "Let's just hope Dion doesn't screw us over..."

"He won't," she assures me. "Nobody is stupid enough to cross a Nevrakis."

"The people who blackmailed you did..." I remind her cautiously.

Olivia's mouth tightens as we reach the end of the corridor. "Which was their first mistake. And one that they will pay for dearly."

"You never actually told me what they threatened you with on the night of the Coronation Ball..."

Olivia glances at me sharply. "The less you know the better."

"But—"

"It is for your own protection," she insists. "You haven't played this game long enough to know how to handle something so... explosive."

My eyes widen. "What? More explosive than—?"

Olivia clamps her hand over my mouth. "What did I tell you on the plane?"

"Sorry..." I mumble through her fingers.

She withdraws her hand. "If — on the very slim chance — I require assistance, I'll ask for it. In the meantime, you should rejoin the bridal parade."

"Why? Where are you going?" I ask as Olivia moves towards the back loading doors.

"None of your business," she ripostes, disappearing outside.

"Bye to you, too..." I snip as the door slams closed in her wake.

Olivia may now be on my side, but she is still as caustic as ever.

Turning back towards the main part of the boutique. I barely make it four steps before Madeleine's shrieks of outrage — and the sound of breaking glass — echo down the hallway.

"How many times do I have to tell you, no thongs! They are ribald and tasteless!"

"Yeah, no..." I mutter under my breath as I promptly spin on my heel to head back towards the rear of the store.

I don't care what Kiara may have said earlier; I have no interest in spending the rest of the morning being trapped in a bridal boutique, being screamed at by Madeleine. I have much better things to do with my time... and sanity, especially given that I'm still trying to mentally and emotionally process what the photographer had said. And after everything else that's happened in the past twenty-four hours, a small break would definitely go a long way in diffusing my pent-up stress.

Admittedly, a part of me feels bad for leaving Hana behind to suffer the full brunt of Madeleine's tirade, but trying to pull her away as well would only jeopardise my chances of making a successful getaway. I'll just have to think of some other way to make it up to her.

Not wanting her to get into any unwarranted trouble on my account, I decide to pull out my phone to send her a quick text letting her know that I'm not feeling well, and that I'll hopefully see her at the opera in the evening.

Slotting my phone back into my clutch, I push the back doors of the boutique open with a decisive shove, and step out into the sunshine.

Letting my eyes adjust to the brightness outside, I find myself in a small courtyard. On a whim, I turn back towards my Guards.

"Which way to the Trevi Fountain?" I ask, pulling my sunglasses back down over my face.

Allard and Schweitzer trade glances, clearly uneasy with this request.

"Demoiselle, that is not a prudent—"

"—way to get lost in the crowd?" I counter. "I can't think of a better one. If I don't advertise myself, no one will know I'm even there. Especially while the paps are tied up on the other side of the building."

My Guards don't seem convinced. "Commandant Walker left specific instructions to—"

"I'm not planning on disappearing on you," I assure them. "I just want to make a quick detour to grab some pastries, and check out the fountain. So, which way is it?"

Perhaps seeing that I'm not going to be swayed by any cautionary counter-argument, Schweitzer gives Allard a one-shouldered shrug of acquiescence.

Allard pulls a face before finally resigning himself as well. "Par ici," he says, indicating the far side of the courtyard.

"Thanks," I chirp with a smile, setting out across the cobblestones...

...and promptly get the heel of my stiletto pumps stuck in a crack between the stones.

"Eugh," I grumble, as I manage to wrench myself free after a brief battle. "I really didn't think this through..."

"Would Demoiselle require a taxi?" asks Schweitzer as he helps steady me from behind.

"I was hoping to walk..." I admit sheepishly.

"Via Borgognona is nearby," Allard suggests. "It is a well-known shopping street, though quieter than the more famous Via Condotti. Demoiselle might find more... comfortable footwear there."

"Not to mention some more appropriate clothes in general," I gripe, already feeling the tight fabric of my pencil dress start to stick to me. "How far away is it?"

"Just around the corner."

I flash him a bright smile. "Perfect!"

With Allard leading the way, and Schweitzer holding my hand, we manage to cross the courtyard without further incident, and sneak past the paps still thronging the front of the bridal boutique without getting spotted.

Crossing the pedestrianised thoroughfare, my Guards usher me down a narrower street that is lined on either side by cream-coloured buildings casting some welcome shade in the midday heat.

We pass a smattering of tourists and locals, but luckily everyone seems to be too absorbed in their phones or personal conversations to pay any specific attention to me.

And — more importantly — as Allard promised, the street is composed entirely of fashionable-looking independent boutiques.

"Let's try this one," I suggest, indicating the arched entryway of a store with an Italian name that I do not recognise, but which nevertheless seems to have several options for sandals on offer. And — given the scalding nature of the weather — an open-toe option is definitely appealing right now!

Stepping into the air-conditioned entranceway, I am immediately greeted by an immaculately made up woman with a severe ponytail, who starts questioning me in rapid-fire Italian.

"Umm..."

Luckily, I am saved from the embarrassment of trying to cobble together some kind of inappropriate response with the very limited — and wholly unhelpful — Italian that Bertrand had managed to teach me on the plane by Allard, who steps deftly up to my side.

"Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe."

"Che tipo de scarpe?"

"Sandals," I say, having understood the gist of the question. "No heel."

"Prego," the assistant says, flicking her hand towards some minimalist shelving.

"Gracia," I acknowledge with a smile.

Moving over to the indicated section, I quickly assess the options...

...and nearly die when I lay eyes on the price tags.

"Almost a thousand Euros...?" I gripe under my breath "For a few scraps of leather...?"

But then my eyes land on a pair bejewelled, gladiator-style sandals.

Given my limited window of opportunity to sneak in some sight-seeing before people start to question my absence, I don't have the luxury of being able to hunt for a bargain. And if I'm going to end up forking out this much money on a pair of shoes, I'm at least going to spend it on something that I like the look of.

And these sandals definitely fit the bill.

Decision made, I pull out my phone to quickly find out how my normal US shoe size converts to the vastly different European sizing, and turn back to the patiently waiting assistant.

"Size 36, please."

With a nod, she disappears 'round the back.

While she's gone, I take the opportunity to look up the location of the little pastry shop that the President had mentioned.

Since I'm heading towards the Trevi Fountain anyway, and Madeleine had pulled us out of this morning's meeting before the refreshments could be served, I had been serious when I told my Guards of my intent to tackle two birds with one stone. Especially since it's nearly lunchtime, and chances are I won't otherwise see food until the opera this evening.

The assistant reappears with my selection, and after a quick try-on, I give her a nod to ring up the extortionate purchase, being excessively grateful that I still have cash left in my US account, given that I don't actually have access to my new Cordonian accounts yet.

Stepping back out onto the street, I change out my shoes, slotting my pumps away into the high-end bag that I've been given, and dumping the shoebox in a nearby trash can.

My toes flex gratefully in their newfound freedom as I cross the street to the clothing boutique, wondering how much a top and pair of jean shorts is going to set me back...

In the end, however, I am pleasantly surprised to emerge back onto the street in a simple, white wrap-dress, a straw Panama hat, and a matching straw bucket bag in which I've stowed my old dress and shoes, all for under two hundred Euros, which means I was able to make recourse to the money Drake had given me, and still have plenty of cash left over for other potential emergencies.

"Thanks for the suggestion," I tell Allard sincerely. "It has definitely saved me from melting into the pavement!"

"De rien, Demoiselle," he acknowledges with a smile. "Are you ready to continue?"

"Lead the way, Monsieur!" I tell him with a grin.

Taking up poll position with a scoff — with Schweitzer bringing up the rear — Allard takes us left at the next intersection to zig-zag us down various side streets, presumably in a bid to avoid both the ferocity of the midday sun, and the chances of me being recognised on the busier avenues.

But, the back route pays off, and within ten minutes, I find myself standing on the edge of the crowded plaza that serves as the gateway to the romantic monument.

"Wow..." I breathe, taking it all in. "It sure is busy!"

Allard and Schweitzer exchange a tense look, no doubt worried about the prospect of being able to keep tabs on me in the press.

"I'll be fine," I assure them. "Just a quick peek and then we can get moving."

Neither of them look convinced, but they don't try to dissuade me as I plunge into the crowd.

Skirting around wedding parties, tour groups, and other miscellaneous sightseers, I manage to work my way to the front of the throng, and my mouth parts with a gasp at the sight spread out before me.

The four-storey monument rises up from the base of the fountain, framing the dynamically positioned statues from under whose feet the water gushes into the aquamarine pool.

It's like a Renaissance painting brought to life.

But, while I'm glad to have made the trip out here to see it in person, I can't help but feel my chest tighten morosely as I gaze up at the beauty of the world-famous landmark.

I didn't necessarily realise it at the time, but part of the reason why I enjoyed my outing in the Cordonian capital so much was because I had Drake to share the adventure with. And it was the same in Avignon — his wry quips and local knowledge had definitely brought the whole experience to life, making me see the city through different eyes than I probably would have had I been by myself... like I am now.

Eugh... I miss him...

Reaching for the ties of my bag on impulse, I pull the fastenings apart just enough to plunge my hand inside. Finding my purse, I snap it open and extract a Euro from the coin pouch.

Squeezing my fingers 'round the warmth of the metal, I clench my eyes shut with a heartfelt wish as I turn back towards the fountain...

...before sending the coin flipping through the air to land in the water before me with a soft plop.

Blinking my eyes open, I am somewhat disappointed to find myself still standing solo by the railing, and Drake has not magically appeared before me like the hot Italian guy did in The Lizzy McGuire Movie.

"Worth a shot..." I console myself somewhat dejectedly as I reach back into my bag to extract my phone so I could snap a couple of pictures to send to my mom.

Mission accomplished, I turn away from the fountain to make my way back to the edge of the square, Allard and Schweitzer falling into step behind me as I scan the various store-fronts clustered around the fountain, searching for the bakery with the pistachio croissants.

My eyes suddenly land on something in one of the window displays...

...and without really thinking about it, I let my feet carry me inside.

The little brass bell above the door jingles as I step into the cramped confines of what appears to be a shop selling a motley collection of antiques and touristy knick-knacks. A wizened old man sporting glasses and a thick head of white hair looks up at the sound of my arrival.

"Buon pomeriggio, signorina," he greets. "Posso aiutarla a cercare?"

"Umm... sì," I say hesitantly. "Hai avo... in the window?" I point at the item that had caught my eye with an embarrassed flush.

The man's face cracks into a grin. "Ah, certamente!"

Stepping out from behind the counter, he ambles his way over to the window display, to pull back the protective glass. Reaching in, he lifts up the silver chain and holds it out to me.

I run the tip of my finger across the edge of the pendant with a smile. "It's perfect."

"For you?" he asks, lifting the chain up to my neck indicatively.

"No," I laugh. "It's a present... Por mi amore?"

His eyes light up. "Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi!"

"Gracia," I say as he scuttles excitedly back behind the counter in search of a box.

Pulling one out with a conspiratorial flourish, he sets about packaging up the piece as if he were swaddling a precious child for a hazardous journey, even managing to dig out a slightly dusty ribbon to tie on top.

"Cento euro," he declares, presenting the completed ensemble to me.

Pulling my wallet out, I extract my card. "Visa?"

"Sì! Ovviamente!" he proclaims, slapping a brand new Square card machine onto the counter, that was starkly at odds with the otherwise Ollivander-esque décor of the place.

Slotting my card into the reader, I complete the purchase, and am just about to reach for the box to stow it away in my bag when I feel a sudden presence behind me.

"This is becoming a bad habit with you..."

I freeze at the sound of the familiar voice.

No way...

The story continues in Chapter 20 (Coming Soon!)

A/N: As per usual, translations below:

At the bridal boutique: Contessa! Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore! - Countess! Countess! Over here, please!

Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle - We got you, m'lady

Certainement. Vous allez bien? - Certainly. Are you alright?

C'est le bordel! Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?" - What mess! What was she thinking?

Sa mère la pute de— - Your mother is a whore of a—

Nom de dieu - Oh, my God!

Tu es une salle grace - You're a real bitch

Absolutement pas! - Absolutely not!

Je le jure - I swear

Out and About Par ici - This way

Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe - She is looking for some new shoes.

Che tipo de scarpe? - What kind of shoes?

Prego - Please

Gracia - Thanks

De rien, Demoiselle - No problem, m'lady

Buon pomeriggio, signorina. Posso aiutarla a cercare? - Good afternoon, miss. Can I help you find anything?

Por mi amore?* - For my love? *This is a completely butchered attempt at Italian. The grammatically correct way to say it would be 'È per il mio amore'. However, Harper is improvising, so she's not going to get things completely correct 😇

Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi! - Ah, lovely! I will wrap it up for you!

Cento euro - One hundred Euros

Sì! Ovviamente! - Yes! Of course!

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[leossmoonn]

One Day at A Time

masterlist

pairing - lip gallagher x fem!reader

type - angst, fluff

note / request - “Hi, I love your Shameless imagines! And I was wondering if you could write something for Lip Gallagher x Reader having a baby and struggling with their new life ❤️” alright so i named the baby fred bc thats lip’s baby’s name already lol also you and lip live in the house that lip wanted to buy for tammy. enjoy!

summary - you and lip struggle to raise a baby and survive 

warning / includes - language, fighting, alcohol, smoking, but fluffy ending

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“Lip!” You shouted. 

Your boyfriend ran into the room frantically. “What’s wrong?” 

“I need you to get me more baby wipes. Freddy took a big shit,” you instructed. 

Lip nodded, going to the table where you kept the baby wipes. He gave you the whole packet only for you to yell at him.

“Hand me them! I have to hold Freddy down so we doesn’t roll off,” you said.

“Sorry, Jesus,” Lip muttered, handing you baby wipes each time you put your hand out. 

You successfully cleaned your baby’s bottom and but on a new, fresh diaper. You picked Freddy and went downstairs with him. You set Freddy down in his high-chair, going over to the cabinet to get Freddy’s baby food. 

“Are you um, are you going into work today?” Lip asked.

“Yeah, are you?” You asked. 

“Yeah, I am,” Lip said. 

You frowned, turning around and putting a hand on your hip. “You can’t. Someone has to watch Freddy.”

“Debbie can watch Freddy,” Lip said. 

You scoffed, “She's never here. And before you say V and Kev, they’ve already helped us enough the past few months. They’re busy with their own kids.”

“Well, I need to go into work. We need the money,” Lip said. 

“Yeah, and I need to go to work or I’m gonna get fired!” You exclaimed. You began feeding Freddy, your mood lightening a little once you saw the little guy’s face. 

“What about working tomorrow? I thought that was our schedule,” Lip asked. 

“It was, but one, I’m well overdue on maternity leave and two, my boss doesn’t care about my personal life. She doesn’t care that we are struggling to raise a child,” you explained. 

Lip opened his mouth to suggest something, but nothing came out. He looked at you helplessly. 

“Here, why don’t you work for a few hours and I’ll watch Freddy in the morning, then you come back home at lunch and I’ll go and work for the afternoon,” you said. 

Lip nodded. “Yeah, that works.”

“Alright, good,” you said. You turned your attention back to the baby, feeding him the rest of his breakfast. Meanwhile, Lip went to shower and get ready to go to work. He came downstairs, coming over to bid you and Freddy goodbye. 

“I’ll see you later. I love you,” Lip said, giving you a hug and a kiss on the forehead. 

Even though you were mad at him earlier, you melted into his arms immediately. You hugged him back tightly, burying your head in the crook of his neck. 

“Hm, I love you, too,” you said, breathing in his scent. 

Lip couldn’t help but smile at your actions. He pulled away after a few moments, walking over to Freddy. 

“I love you, too, buddy,” Lip cooed, kissing Freddy on the cheek, making the baby giggle. 

You smiled at the scene, enjoying seeing Lip interact with Freddy. 

“Bye,” Lip called out before leaving. 

“Bye!” You exclaimed, watching him leave. 

You let out a long sigh, leaning back against the fridge. You looked at Freddy, who was clapping his hands on his high-chair table. You laughed a little.

“You’re so silly,” you said, going over to him and picking him up. 

“Do you want to go to the store with me?” You talked to Freddy, bouncing him up and down while walking across the room. 

Freddy make a little squeak and you smiled. “Yeah, I know you want go to the store with me. I’m gonna shower and get ready, you stay in the crib, okay? I’ll be out in 10 minutes,” you said, going up to the nursery and setting Freddy down  gently. 

You went into the bathroom, taking a quick shower and brushing your teeth. You went back in your room and got dressed into a pair of mom jeans, a dark-purple, buttoned-up shirt and put a grey sweater over it, taking the collar of your shirt and folding it on the collar of your sweater. You then returned to Freddy’s room. You saw him on his back, sucking in his thumb. You smiled and picked him up, quietly going down the stairs. You set him in his high-chair again, getting your coat, purse, and your shoes. You also got Freddy’s little coat and hat to keep him warm in the cold winter of Chicago. 

You went out to your car, buckling Freddy into his carseat. You then went to the supermarket, putting Freddy in the front of the cart. You picked out fruit, vegetables, and salad mix. You got 2 gallons of milk, new coffee creamer, and cereal. You bought a few warm-up dinner packs and hamburger meat, going to the freezer isle and getting ice cream. You then went to the snack isle. 

“What should we get, Freddy?” You asked, looking at the pop tarts. 

Freddy pointed to the birthday cake-flavoured pop tarts. 

“Good choice, baby,” you smiled, grabbing the pop tarts. You then grabbed a few packs of chips and gum, going over to check out.

“Cute baby,” the girl at the register said. 

You looked up from putting the groceries on the table. You looked at her name tag and smiled. 

“Thank you, Stacy,” you said. “How old is he?” Stacy asked. 

“Almost 2 months,” you said. 

“Awe, so cute. I just found out I’m pregnant,” Stacy said. 

“Oh, really. Congrats,” you smiled. “Yeah, my boyfriend and I are happy,” Stacy smiled, putting her hand on her stomach. 

She rang your groceries up. “It’ll be $103.98.”

You nodded and took your card out and a few coupons you and Lip had collected in the past month. 

“Alright, with these coupons, your total is $80.56,” Stacey said.

“Great,” you smiled. You paid with your card, gathering the grocery bags. 

“Have a good day!” Stacy smiled. 

“Thank you, you too. Congrats again with the baby,” you gave her a kind smile. 

She thanked you as you walked out. You loaded the groceries into the car and put Freddy back in his carseat. You then drove back home, putting away the groceries while Freddy watched you in his high-chair. 

“Are you tired, baby? I’m tired,” you yawned. Freddy yawned right after you, making you chuckle. 

“Why don’t you take a nap and let Mommy clean the house, okay? It’s a fucking mess,” you muttered the curse words, looking around the house. Clothes and toys were everywhere. Plates were stacked in the sink and on the coffee table. The house needed to be vacuumed and wiped down very badly

You put Freddy down in his crib, turning on the baby monitor. You changed into a tank top and shorts and put your hair in a ponytail, going back downstairs to clean. 

You started with the dishes, washing and drying them off, putting them back in their cupboards. You then wiped down the kitchen counter, stove top, kitchen table, and coffee table. Next you decided to clean up all of the baby stuff that was on the floor. You put Freddy’s toys in the play bins you and Lip had bought and put Freddy’s clothes in the washing machine. You then vacuumed the living room carpet and swept the kitchen tiles, making yourself another cup of coffee. You were done in an hour and a half, taking a look at your work, smiling in satisfaction. Your house hadn’t been this clean since you and Lip had bought it. 

It was lunch time and you knew Lip would be coming home soon. You decided to make you and him lunch. You made chilli and salad, knowing that it would last you two for a few days. You changed back into your work uniform before grabbing yourself a bowl and sitting down, eating your lunch quickly before you had to go to work. 

15 minutes later, Lip had walked through the door. You got up to greet him. 

“Hey, babe. This smells good, what did you make?” Lip asked.  “Chilli and salad for lunch. You can have some,” you said. 

“Ah, nice,” Lip said. He gave you a kiss on the cheek, going over to the kitchen.  You frowned. He usually wasn’t this detached.

“How was work?” You asked. 

“Good,” Lip said, grabbing himself a bowl of chilli. “How was your day?”

“Good,” you said. “ I um… I cleaned the house and got groceries.”

“Oh, nice,” Lip said, sitting down. 

"Are you okay?” You asked. 

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” Lip said. 

“Um, okay,” you said. “Well, Freddy is upstairs taking a nap. He’s been asleep for about two hours, so he will probably wake up soon. The baby monitor is here. When he wakes up can you give him a bath? He’s a little stinky.”

“Sure,” Lip nodded. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to figure out why he was acting so off. 

“I gotta go to work. I'll see you later, okay?” You said. 

“Okay. Have fun,” Lip said.

You slammed the front door shut and walked to your car, letting out a long sigh. You wanted to ask why Lip was acting so distant, but you knew you had to go to work. You worked as a waitress at a local diner. You had been working there for the past 3 years. You hoped to be moving jobs to what you really wanted to do, which was cosmetics, but having a baby set you back a little. You were so thankful for Freddy, though, you didn’t regret having him one bit. It just sucked a lot. But you were good at your job. you were friendly to customers and co-workers, got the most tips, and never played around. You were your boss’s best waitress, despite you always having to change your shifts. 

You worked from 1 pm to 9, going back home tired, but happy you at least got a shift in. You drove home, looking forward to seeing Lip and Freddy, but once you got in the door, your excitement immediately diminished. 

Freddy was in his play pen and the person who was watching him wasn’t Lip. It was Carl. 

“Um, hey, Carl,” you frowned, setting your coat in the closet. 

Carl turned to you, a nervous smile on his face. “Hey, Y/n. How’re you?”

“Good, thanks. Where is Lip?” You asked, putting your hands on your hips. 

“He went out,” Carl answered. 

“To where?” You asked, your temper rising. “Um…. to the Alibi,” Carl said nervously. 

Your eyes blew wide. “What?! He went to the Alibi and left you to take care of our baby? No offense, Carl.”

“None taken,” Carl shrugged. 

“I…” you started to say. You put your fingers on your temples, rubbing in circles to try and ease the headache you were beginning to have. You were able to calm down a little. 

“Thank you for taking care of Freddy,” you said to Carl. 

“No problem. I love the little guy,” Carl smiled. 

You smiled back, grabbing your purse. “Here, let me pay you for watching him.”

“I would usually say yes to money, but I’ll say no this time. I like spending time with Freddy, he's my nephew, I like watching him,” Carl shrugged.

“Are you sure?” You asked, holding a 20 dollar bill. 

“Yeah, I am,” Carl smiled kindly. 

“Alright. Thank you. I’m going to find Lip. Do you mind staying until I come back?” You asked. 

“Nope. Can I have some of the chilli?” Carl asked. 

“Yeah, of course. Do you know how to change diapers and feed Freddy?” You asked. 

“Yeah, of course. I took care of Liam and Franny for Debbie sometimes,” Carl said. 

“Right, of course,” you chuckled. “Thanks, again. I’ll see you later.”

“See you,” Carl waved. 

You didn’t bother grabbing your coat, rushing out of the house to find Lip. You drove to the Alibi, parking haphazardly. You went in, anger surging through you as you saw Lip smoking and drinking his liver and lungs out. He was talking with Kermit and Tommy. 

“Lip!” You screamed, the whole room turning going quiet. 

“Oh, hey, Y/n!” Kev smiled. 

“Hey, Kev. Can I see Lip for a second?” You asked, clenching your jaw. 

Lip looked at you, his eyes dropping. “Hey, baby.” He walked up to you, a stoned smile on his face. 

You grabbed his hand, yanking him out to the alley behind the Alibi. 

“What's up?” Lip asked.

“You! That’s what’s up!” You exclaimed. 

“What do you mean?” Lip asked. 

“You fucking left Freddy alone!” You shouted. “I left him with Carl. He’s fine,” Lip shrugged. 

“Yeah, but you didn’t call me to say you were going to leave Freddy!” 

Lip glared at you. “I don’t need to call you. He’s my son.”

“He’s my son, too! I’m his mother. I need to know who he is with! What if Carl brought over Kelly and they started having sex on the couch where Freddy could see, huh? I don’t fucking want that!” 

Lip chuckled. “They wouldn’t do that. Carl and Kelly are broken up or whatever.”

You groaned. “That’s not the point! I’m tired and super stressed out. You could have let me know!” 

“I’m tired and stressed out, too!” Lip exclaimed.

“Oh, yeah, I bet you are. Getting fucking drunk and stoned,” you laughed sourly. 

“I’m not drunk, I had 2 sips of beer, and I worked!” Lip exclaimed. 

“Yeah? Well I worked, too! I worked until 9 at night. I should be home by then! And I was the one who cleaned the house and did the dishes and got the groceries, which by the way, you are fucking welcome!” You shouted. 

“I never asked you to do that,” Lip said. 

“i know, but I did it because we needed it. All I wanted was a thank you!” “Well I was tired and hungry when I got home,” Lip shrugged. 

You glared at him, tears clouding your vision. “You’re so full of shit, Lip. So full of fucking shit!” You screamed, pushing him back. He stumbled backwards and hit the brick wall gently. 

“What the fuck, Y/n?!” Lip yelled. 

“Don’t do that! You don’t have the right to question me!” You screamed back. 

Lip opened his mouth to yell back, but Veronica and Kevin came out. 

“Hey, you two stop it!” Veronica yelled. 

“Yeah, what’s going on?” Kevin asked. 

“She is yelling at me!” Lip pointed to you. 

“Yeah, cause you’re a fucking asshole!” You screamed, your voice hoarse and tears running down your face. 

“Oh, no,” Veronica muttered. She went over to you, wrapping her arms around you gently. “Let’s go inside and get you some tea, okay?”

You started to sob, leaning in to Veronica. Lip looked at you, his heart breaking at the sight of you so upset.  

“Kev, you take Lip home and get him cleaned up, okay? Make sure Freddy is fed and changed and put to bed, too,” Veronica instructed. 

Kevin nodded, putting his arm around Lip and went to Lip’s car. Veronica walked you inside, taking you to the back of the bar. She got you a beer and a hot cup of tea, placing them in front of you. 

“T-Thanks,” you sniffled. 

“Talk to me, baby,” Veronica said, sitting down next to you. 

“Lip left Freddy home alone with Carl. I’ve been so busy and tired today. I cleaned the whole house, got the groceries. I worked for fucking 8 hours. I just wanted a little ‘thank you’ from Lip. That’s all I wanted,” you cried. “God, I’m such a fucking crybaby.”

Veronica put her hand on your arm comfortingly. “No, honey, you’re not. I understand, don’t worry, and Lip should, too. Maybe you should calm down a little and then go back home and talk to him. Really talk, no shouting and pushing.”

You took a big sip of your beer and nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good plan.”

Veronica smiled. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“No, I’m fine,” you said. 

“You sure? We have some chocolate chip cookies,” Veronica smiled. 

“Hm, okay. I'll have a few,” you smiled. 

“Great!” Veronica squealed. She went away for a few moments, coming back with a container full of cookies. 

You sat and talked with Veronica for two hours. You soon were about to pass out and decided to drive you and Veronica home since Kevin had taken their car. 

“Thanks for the fun night, V,” you smiled at Veronica as you dropped her back to her house. 

“No problem! Drive home safe! Call if you need anything,” Veronica said. 

“Will do,” you said and drove back home, which was thankfully only 5 minutes away. 

You got home, going in and seeing the living room empty. You took off your shoes, groaning in relief as your heels had been aching the whole day. You trudged up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard the shower going but didn’t bother to go and see Lip. 

You changed out of your work clothes and into a pair of shorts and a tank top. You put your hair in a messy bun, flinging yourself on your bed. 

Lip came into the room with Freddy a few moments later. You noticed his presence.

“What?” You snapped. 

“I just… do you want Freddy and I to lay down with you?” Lip asked. 

You looked to them, seeing Freddy smiling at you. You couldn’t help but smile back. “Sure.”

You scooted over, Lip setting Freddy down next to you and climbing into bed with you. You gave Freddy a big kiss. 

“Hi, baby. I’ve missed you,” you cooed. 

Freddy chortled, clapping his hands. You giggled with the baby, ignoring Lip until he spoke. 

“So uh… how was your day?” Lip asked nervously. 

“Fine. How was yours?” You asked, not looking at him. 

“Mine was uh… good,” Lip said. 

“Good,” you said shortly. 

There was an awkward silence between you two before Lip spoke again. 

“I wanted to apologise for my actions today,” Lip started to say. 

This was the first time you felt like looking at him. You stared in his blue eyes, waiting for his apology. 

“I’m sorry about ignoring the work you did around the house and I’m sorry for not letting you know I was having Carl take care of Freddy. And I’m sorry for going to the Alibi and getting stoned. I really appreciate you cleaning the house. It really needed to be cleaned and to keep it clean, I promise to try and not leave dishes out and pick up Freddy’s toys,” Lip said. 

You smiled at his apology, scooting up on the bed so you could put your forehead on his without crushing Freddy. 

“Thank you. And the house being messy isn’t totally your fault. I need to learn to clean up after myself more, too,” you said. 

Lip chuckled, “That’s something we can both work on then.”

“Totally,” you smiled. 

“I’m also sorry for yelling at you at the Alibi. I’ve just been so stressed with work and Freddy. I’ve never had to take care of a baby that was my own before. I’ve always had help from Fiona and Ian,” Lip said. 

You put your hand on his cheek. “I know, baby. This is all new for me, too. And I’m sorry for yelling at you, too, you didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s alright. I kinda did,” Lip chuckled. 

You rolled your eyes with a smile “Well anyways, we’ll get through this together, okay? I love you. So, so, so much. And I love Freddy, probably a little too much,” you joked. “Let’s just take this one day at a time okay?”

Lip nodded and pressed his lips against yours softly. You kissed him back before pulling away, making sure Freddy was okay. 

Lip smiled. “I love you, too, you know.”

You looked back up to Lip with a big smile. “Yeah, I know.”

————

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[miekasa]

I have a question for you, I see that requests are opened but tbh you don’t have to make headcanons for this I feel like it’s just a funny question. What embarassing stories or things do you think the characters would have? Like in a modern setting? Like embarassing things they have done or do? Like eren and levi, hell you can make them short like the music hc and add others! Up to you! Just thought it would be a funny scenario.

EREN: Do you want a list? Because this could go on for a while LMAOO. He does something embarrassing every two to three business hours, he’s so cringe fail it’s honestly kind of incredible. The worst part is though, is that he doesn’t even recognize how embarrassing he can be; hence why he continues to be a raging embarrassment in most public settings and an overall menace to society <2

Some of his most iconic moments include: locking his key inside his car and then breaking into his own car, only to realize that his key was in his pocket the whole time; boldly claiming that all the milk in the grocery store was expired and demanding compensation bc it said ‘best by MA 2021’ and he thought that meant march which would be bad since it was april, but it turns out MA was short for may; accidentally emailing his entire class when he meant to only respond to his professor; texting “good night, i love you baby” to his mom because he’d pinned their conversation at the top of his messages when he meant to text it to you. I’m gonna stop here for now because I cannot do this any longer. 

LEVI: Spends 15 minutes looking for his phone, only to realize it’s in his hand; gets confused easily by new slang and the proper context to use it, so he uses it incorrectly and you’re like ‘whatdidhesaaaaaaay’; if he’s holding tea in one hand and another object in the other, he’ll lift the hand with the other object to his mouth instead of the tea by accident. He’s hard to embarrass though, so even when he does embarrassing things, he doesn’t feel embarrassed by them. He’s just kind of like, oh, well that’s life. 

ARMIN: Gets very excited about things he is blatantly incorrect about but he looks so cute rambling it’s hard to correct him; pokes himself with his pens like 17845 times a day; they always mishear his name at Starbucks so he’s either standing there for 30 mins waiting for his drink when in reality they’ve already called it so it’s been sitting there on the counter, or he’ll hear a name he thinks they might have heard his name as and accidentally take somebody else’s drink. 

MIKASA: Literally has no sense of direction and will walk for 10 minutes before realizing she’s going the wrong way; got stung by a jellyfish when she was little and had to pee on her leg to stop the burn; accidentally sat on and broke Armin’s reading glasses once and instead of telling him, she went all the way downtown to the special glasses repair place and stood in line for 3 hours waiting to get them fixed. 

JEAN: Trips over thin air, but always plays it off in a cocky manner like “Oh, guess you could say I’m really falling for ya, huh--ow, fuck, not again,”; got a carrot stuck up his nose when he was a child and he had to go to the emergency room to get it removed; accidentally applied to a sorority because he didn’t realize sororities were for girls and frats were for boys (he lowkey got in tho). 

HANGE: Too many to count, but also is not embarrassed by their embarrassing antics. The worst is that they probably connect their car bluetooth to their phone and once someone borrow their car and was returning it, and it connected to their phone audio which was playing some... questionable videos. 

CONNIE: Zipper is never zipped; forgets to press ‘start’ on the microwave after putting in the time and comes back to realize his food hasn’t been heated up yet; accidentally sent a thirst trap to his TA because his contact was next to his friend’s; has fallen into a fountain in public while trying to get his nickel back. 

ERWIN: The way he dresses is borderline embarrassing every day. You do not need a sweater vest and khakis to go to Target, Erwin. Is bad with computers, so almost any embarrassing technological mishap you can think of, has happened to him; including that he accidentally downloaded a virus that spread to nearly all of the computers at his job all because he truly believed he’d won a free purple MacBook air for half price. 

SASHA: God... this girl. Pulls on push doors even though it says ‘push’ right on the handle; once walked into the wrong building and went all the way up to the apartment she thought was hers and knocked on it to be let in by her roommates, only to have two very old ladies open the door with very confused looks on their faces (she stayed for dinner though, it was lasagna night); gets into the wrong fucking Uber every single time and the drivers are like “Uh... no offense, but you don’t look like a Hank.” 

[enjennie]

In The Limelight [chenle x reader]

Summary: Tutoring the CEO’s son, when you’re barely interested in business. And falling for him, when you knew nothing about love.

Genre: Fluff. Rich kid!Chenle Tutor!Reader

Warnings: None

a/n: not proofread! I’ve been in a slump lately ☹ my works haven’t been satisfying me but I hope you enjoy this! btw omg this is a reupload bc the first time... somehow, the paragraphs were jumbled up? 

 “Y/N, there are flowers on your desk,” your classmate gestures behind them to the classroom you were headed to before quickly passing by. You could only nod, a little taken aback by the sudden information you received. Flowers? As far as you know, Valentine’s had passed, so has white day and it’s definitely not your birthday.

But as you enter your classroom, the bundle of flowers catching your eyes, you knew one thing for sure was from who it was. As you approach your desk, you lift the thoughtful gift and inspect the small card attached to the string that tied it beautifully together. ZCH, it read in cursive.

 “How was your day?” Chenle’s voice can be heard from the other line, the smile on his face almost something you can hear along with it.

“It was great! Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They’re delightful,” you beamed, eyes landing at the arrangement that now sat on your vanity. Chenle chuckles, his laughter sending serotonin to run through your body.

“Not a problem, I’m glad you like them,”

“Though I’d appreciate if you gave them to me yourself,” you cheekily continued. Chenle could only smile, his face softening at your request. It was a simple request. Yet, he couldn’t do it.

When you notice the silence that follow, you immediately regret what you said. You desperately try to backtrack, sputtering out words. “Well- I mean-, It’s fine- Thank you, still! I love them,”

Chenle hums, “I know. Don’t worry. You’ll wait though… right? It won’t be long,”

You plant your feet to your carpeted floor and nod, even if he can’t see you. “Of course, Lele,”

 Zhong Chenle is the son of the most respected CEO of one of the biggest corporations in Shanghai the entire world. Chenle was the next in line to the company. After his brother had expressed how the business world didn’t interest him, the responsibility immediately fell into Chenle’s hands. And even if music was his love and calling, he had to let it go as to not disappoint his father.

Chenle had accepted it some time ago, going to school only for the degree so he could be eligible to own the business. He accepted the fact that he was going to be living the life his father made for him, not one he made for himself and it was the hardest pill to swallow. But things changed when he met you. There was more purpose to the things he does, it wasn’t just for nothing. Life had gone from monochromatic to colorful.

 “Miss, Y/N. Mr. Zhong just moved and he has to take this class to pass the semester. I trust you can fill him in with our module? Mr. Zhong, this is Miss. Y/N, she scored the highest during midterms,” your world economics professor had marched towards you after class, a tall boy following behind her. He looked just as oblivious as she did, to the sudden weight and pressure being put on you.

You merely nod and say a simple hello, not being able to say anything else. It wasn’t a question, this was a demand. Jeez if I was gonna teach your student I should get a portion of your pay. You thought bitterly. At the time, you were struggling to juggle a part-time job at a café while also maintaining your grades to keep your scholarship.

When your professor left you two, the boy kept his hands buried in his pockets. His clothes were semi-casual and his hair was styled nicely. Who the hell moves halfway through the year?

“So, Mr. Zhong-“ you take your books into your arms and lazily sling your bag over your shoulder, heading towards the door with him trailing behind you.

“Chenle-, You can call me Chenle,” he finally spoke, startling you a little with how cool and soft his voice is as opposed to his striking visual that intimidated you at first.

“Nice to meet you, Chenle,” you give him a smile.

You were gonna be around this guy for who knows how long, might as well try to be his friend. Maybe it’ll make the teaching less of a chore.

  “Wrong,” you huffed, marking his essay and adding in annotations. “Chenle, remember there is a specific way to start these essays and that’s by defining the terms you’re using,”

The boy sat opposite of you, arms crossed and back against the couch comfortably. You were in a café. The café you worked in, to be precise. Your schedule today overlapped with Chenle’s and as much as you didn’t want him to see you slaving around, you also couldn’t miss this paycheck at the café. You gave him an essay to write just to check on his phrasing and structure and left to buss some tables and serve orders. But when you came back, Chenle barely wrote anything and could care less about it.

“Can we not study today?” he whined.

You and Chenle have been meeting each other for a month now, and you’d soon learned about the type of boy he is, the life he led. In ways you didn’t expect to.

 The first time you found out about Chenle’s reputation was through the newspaper. No, not the school newspaper. Not even the local newspaper. But on the Wallstreet Journal, when you had to grab material from any recent article for a class. Chenle’s name floated along with the words ‘Young entrepreneur’ and their company’s name. You gasped so loud you had to excuse yourself from the library and leave in a hurry. That afternoon you smacked him on the shoulder with your thick world econ textbook.

“You’re from a family of business corporates and you’re learning world economics from someone who crammed the exam?” you exclaimed. He stared at you blankly, book in hand and pen in the other.

“And you don’t pay me!” you added. The fact that you’ve been tutoring someone as rich as Chenle just didn’t make sense to you. Why not go to a professional? Instead, he was here with a sleep deprived college student who sometimes mixes up business terms just because she couldn’t care any less. World Economics was a mandatory for you. You studied to pass, sadly.

“I could start paying you, name the price,” he said easily. But you shook your head.

“I didn’t mean it that way, sorry. I actually don’t care about the money,” You led him to the picnic bench with the table outside school grounds and propped your book on it along with your bag before taking out your bento box. “Just blows my mind how you won’t just pay for the classes. I don’t teach that well-” you continue.

“I like you, though,” Chenle calmly interjects. You look up at the boy, movements being halted by his bold statement.

“Pardon?” you felt the need to have him clarify what he said.  The boy leaned across the table, over your textbooks and notes. “I like you,” Chenle repeated himself, but the impact it had on you was just as powerful and hit you hard. Your heart was doing somersaults.

Chenle’s eyes grew thin as he smiled, backing away from you and sitting back down.

“So, chapter 12,” he starts flipping his book nonchalantly, leaving you out of breath with a heart hammering in your chest.

  “What do you mean not study today? You have an upcoming quiz with Mr. Byun this Friday and mind you, that man searches for wrongs, not rights,” you raised a finger at him, shaking it matter-of-factly.

“No, let me help you. Do you usually run the café on your own?” he closes the book and takes his essay from your hand. You’re left slack jawed.

“No. I- Johnny couldn’t come in today,” you explained. Suddenly, you were stammering as if explaining to your boss. At first, you were doubting if it was the same Chenle you were reading about in the articles. The boy you were tutoring didn’t come off as someone who would be running corporates and buying stocks or whatever. He was more laid back and relaxed. Aside from the way he dressed, nothing gave it away that he was indeed the CEO’s son. But there were times where you got a dominant feel from him. Times when he stood with much authority and didn’t accept no for an answer. In those moments, you realize how Chenle’s presence alone demanded respect.

Soon enough, you found yourself behind the counter with Chenle beside you tying the apron to himself. He looked cute, somehow. The way he smiled at customers and tried giving them their recommendations set butterflies run free in your stomach, you almost swooned. He didn’t get much studying done that day, but you surely did. You learned the fact that you falling slowly but surely with Zhong Chenle.

  There were two chapters you’re left to cover. In the short month and a half, you managed to teach Chenle six month’s worth of topics. Seeing him every other day made Chenle a familiar face to see around. Of course, you never actually got to see him around campus when you weren’t tutoring him. It left you wondering if you were actually teaching a ghost. But all doubts went away when the girls in your class started whispering about the cute boy waiting outside class. You quickly found out it was Chenle who they were talking about, and he was there for you. It was safe to say he wasn’t a ghost and is in fact real.

Carrying his book bag, he was stood against the wall with reading material under his arm.

“Chenle, we don’t have a schedule today,” you walk up to him, trying to avoid the dozen pairs of eyes that watched you. Chenle nodded, “Sorry, I won’t be here tomorrow. My father is bringing me on a business trip,” he states.

It wasn’t new for you to hear this coming from Chenle. Just the other week, his father brought him along to Japan for a company deal and Chenle came back with a little keychain souvenir for you. The same keychain dangled from your bag now as you both walked to the exit of the building. “Are you free?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t bring my book with me tod-“ you begin searching in your bag, even if you knew it wasn’t there. You were just trying to ignore the way his question made your heart jump.

“I mean… for dinner. Are you free for dinner?” he places a gentle hand on yours, stopping you from looking further in your bag. Chenle’s bold movements sometimes took him by surprise as well. He quickly retracts his hand, shoving it in his pockets. You let go of your bag, placing your hands on either side of you.

“Why?” you squinted at him suspiciously.

Chenle’s smile is small, but doesn’t go unnoticed by you as he turns his head towards his car then back down at you. “Listen, you don’t have to overanalyze this. I just want to treat you,”

  Chenle had thought about it a hundred times or more, before finally making a decision. Although you’ve been seeing each other in cafes and libraries for some time now, he didn’t want to consider those as dates. Sure, it gave him time to admire you up close and get to know you but he wanted you to know his true intentions. The only problem was boy, was he a wuss. And were you oh so dense!

Despite the subtle and not so subtle hints he’s given you, you remained clueless about his feelings. Unsure, confused and just downright oblivious. From the way he looked at you to how he vocally told you he liked you. You shoved everything under the rug, afraid that this boy was just toying around with you and having a laugh. He found it cute.

 It didn’t matter that you were in your school clothes, carrying about three thick books in your shoulder bag. He thought you looked stunning. You ate at a pizzeria just in town and he expressed how it tasted just like pizza from Italy. You said you wouldn’t know the difference since you’ve never been, and had a laugh about it.

The walk from his car to your apartment wasn’t that far, it’s just that he had to park a little further since there was no more space left in front. As you walked together, you noticed how the vibe and atmosphere between you two that developed as the night deepened, was different. More lax, comfortable. Like friends? You were both silent, until Chenle piped up.

“I lied, I didn’t just want to treat you,” he muttered, looking into the distance of your quiet street.

You turn your face towards him and you catch a glimpse of his face in the moonlight before looking away. He’d taken your bag from you and had it around his shoulder now. Him in his white polo shirt and brown suit jacket. He was always dressed like he was attending some kind of formal event. That’s Chenle for you. Mr. CEO’s son.

“Then?” you prompted him to continue.

Chenle averts his attention towards you as you finally reached the front of your apartment. You both stop walking, facing each other with the moon as your spotlight. You look at him from the light of the moon, it illuminated Chenle’s features perfectly. You would be able to inspect him when he studied, but each look at him made you breathless every time you had to look away. Much like right now.

“I wanted to take you out. Like, on a date,” Chenle confesses.

You could never wrap your head around how bold Chenle could be. Always leaving you flustered after saying such things, this boy was your weakness. But you didn’t give in. At least, you tried not to.

“Oh,” was your only response as you put your hands together, looking up at the tall boy. You hoped it wasn’t obvious that heat was rushing to your cheeks and ears by now. You could practically feel your blood flowing through your body, making you feel warm all over. “It was fun, I enjoyed it,” you shyly admit.

Chenle takes a step forward, raising his hand to palm your cheek gently. It’s the first time he’s ever gotten this close. “But I’m not sure you’re ready for my world yet,” his voice is lower, cool. Like wind.

You part your lips slightly, willing yourself to breathe. Your breath is unstable, shaky. This time, you take a step forward. “Are you underestimating me?” You don’t know where the surge of confidence came from, but you were thankful for it. The look of surprise is quickly melted into amusement as this was definitely the first time you ever made the second move to the dozens of times he’d left you flustered.

Chenle dips his head down close to your face. Eyes trained on each other, you tried to get yourself to breathe. He looked alluring, and you watch his eyes drop to your lips. Your head had become blank, nothing in mind. Just him. Chenle, and nothing else. His calm eyes, button nose and plump lips that you so very badly wanted to press against yours. “Are you sure?” he whispers.

You close the space between you and Chenle, lining your lips with his and connecting them together. The sensation almost sending you on your knees, you grab onto his shoulder for support and he holds you up by the waist, swiftly wrapping his strong arms around you. It felt like such a big relief, you almost sighed.

When you pulled away, Chenle’s smile comes into view as you fluttered your eyes open. He places his hand at the back of his head and scratches, suddenly becoming shy. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“You’re something else,” you giggle, smacking his arm before snatching your bag from his shoulder and turning on your heel to leave. You feel his hand against yours, forcing you to stop. “I’ll see you after my trip?” he asks.

“Same time… for class,” you reply, looking back at him with a cheeky smile. Chenle lets your hand go, a smitten smile on his face and a warm feeling in his chest. Zhong Chenle wished things were simpler. He wanted to give you the world.

 “It’s just a black tie party and my dad’s forcing me to come with a date,” he fixes himself in the mirror. He looked handsome, as always. In an all-black suit that fit him perfectly. Dressed like he had someplace to be, people to meet.

You sat on your bed behind him, arms folded and face scrunched up into a frown. A date. Probably someone from a rich family, better than you, his future spouse. They’d have perfect little babies together. All these bitter thoughts were flooding in your brain. When he notices your unusual quietness, Chenle turns to face you and gives you a goofy smile.

“What’s on your mind?” he approaches the bed, placing either hands on the side of you and leaning in close. Chenle could tell when you lied and knew exactly how to make you crack. You pull your knees to yourself and don’t bother hiding the scowl forming on your face. You couldn’t do anything about it. After several talks with Chenle, he explained how much pressure he gets from the media and his family. How dating even became a hassle because of how the pressure would then be shared with his partner.

For years, it wasn’t a problem. He didn’t find anyone that sparked his interest, and only had meaningless one night stands. He was fine with it, really. But all of that changed when he met you. For once, he wanted to go after something he loved. Not let it go, unlike what he did with his own passion for the sake of his father’s dream and business.

You shook your head, ridding the thoughts in your head and throwing them out. “Nothing. I know it’s just business. Message me when you get home?” you didn’t need to ask, but you still do. Chenle always kept you updated, whether if it was how the party he’s in has a chocolate fountain or if the bathrooms have automatic toilets. It was always bizarre hearing about his stories and taking a peek of what his world is like. The world of corporates. You weren’t ready for it, and Chenle knew.

 The secrecy of your relationship didn’t last very long, soon enough it’s got media questioning who Chenle was seeing and your status. After a few run-ins with the paparazzi, you both decided it would be best if your meetups were more discreet. Luckily, the cameras hadn’t captured your face yet, but it was only a matter of time until they did.

To top it all off, the news had spread across campus. Girls left and right claiming they were the one dating Chenle, it didn’t bother you too much. You had a scholarship to keep and a job to go to. Sometimes, you’d find a single rose and a letter waiting for you in class, or at the café. Of course, you and Chenle had wrapped up the tutorial classes and he was able to pass the exam. He was one step closer to his degree, but happy wasn’t the word to describe him.

He yearned to be with you, have you in his arms and spend hours together just like you used to before things got complicated. Chenle grew lonely without your presence as months passed. Nonetheless, you hung onto the string of hope that maybe one day people wouldn’t care so much. That you could take all the criticism, the heat.

 It was around 2am when your phone rang, disturbing your slumber. It was a Friday night and you took it upon yourself to catch up on some sleep after the horrendous exam week you just faced. Chenle had said goodnight hours ago. You wondered who could be calling at such an ungodly hour.

You pick up without checking the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” Chenle’s voice filled your ear. Your eyes snap open and you shot up from your bed, pulling the phone away from your ear. Sure enough, it was him. Lele, with a little heart beside the name.

“Hey, are you alright?” You ask worriedly. His voice sounded slow and there was rustling behind him.

Chenle lets out a groan, and your heartbeat picks up its pace. You knew better than to think Chenle would cheat, but it was definitely worrying hearing this without any idea what was going on. “I miss you,” he breathed, voice raspy and low. You couldn’t keep the smile from appearing on your face. In the darkness of your room, your heart swelled with joy. “I miss you too, Chenle,” you whispered back.

Distinct voices come through the line, and you make it out to be Jeno and Jaemin. They’re bickering and you hear a guitar in the mix. “We’ll leave you here, Chenle,” Jaemin calls to his friend before you hear a door close.

“Why did you call?” you ask but you were happy that he did.

“Because I can’t be there with you. Even if it’s all I want right now,” he confessed. Your smile faltered and a hint of sadness falls upon your face as he continues. He was obviously drunk, but Chenle has always been really honest because he couldn’t lie. These days however, you haven’t had the time to talk much and you knew there was a lot on his mind. It hurt to know that it’s been this, and you couldn’t do much about it. “I just want to tell everyone about us. Screw what they think, YN. You’re perfect to me,”

Hearing his words gave you a glimmer of hope. You wished he was right, you wished you could believe it.

“Chenle-“ you sighed. “I want that too,”

There was a moment of silence before his voice came through again and you thought he’d passed out drunk already. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve sacrificed so much for my father, but you’re not going to be one of them,”

His words brought the smile back to your face, tears welling up in your eyes from how happy you were to hear them. It seemed at this moment that you could battle anything, because you were with Chenle. Everything would be alright. He was here and you are too, it’s the two of you against the world.

“Tomorrow, let’s make it official,” Chenle proposed.

You bring your hand up to your lips and bite on your nails, now fully awake more than ever. “Okay,” you agreed. Chenle grins, getting up from his bed. “I’m coming over,” you can hear him walking around now, keys jangling and shoes on his wooden floor.

“You can’t drive-“ you hurriedly try to stop him, keeping in mind his state.

“I don’t drive a Tesla for nothing,” he chuckles. “I’ll be there soon,” The outgoing beeping of the call followed afterwards as he ended the call. The realization hit you a moment later.

 The next day, you and Chenle arrived in school together. He stayed the night, carrying a change of clothes in his bag. For someone who was smack drunk, he sure did pack well.

From the moment you stepped out of his car, many students were around to watch. Exchanging whispers and staring, your cheeks set aflame when Chenle pulls you by the arm, your hands connecting between you and threading together naturally. It drew the attention of many onlookers and you chewed on your bottom lip, not used to the attention.

“They’re staring,” you whisper close to him.

“Let them,” He responds. Chenle tilts your head up to meet his gaze before planting a lingering kiss on your lips, confirming people’s already forming suspicions. “You’re my girl, aren’t you?”

[levi-lover]

New Light Part: 1

College Levi x Reader(Modern AU)

W/C: 2.5

T/W: Pretentious Hipster Levi lol 

A/N: Levi is a moody English major who spends his free time reading at the local cafe and yes, I think that is sexy as hell. This is a slowburn piece kinda  inspired by the Hulu show Normal People! I love that show but I could never watch it again bc it breaks my heart too much lol. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! (Part Two will be up soon! & this picture is from Pinterest)

I’ve put all the parts in one list here:  New Light Masterlist

“I just don’t get it.” You huffed and leaned back into your chair. 

“Don’t worry, this stuff takes time to learn!” Hange looked at you earnestly.

The two of you had been studying at Maria’s Coffee for a few hours. Your genetics midterm was in a few days and you were completely lost. You met Hange on your first week, you anxiously walked into the lecture hall thinking this would be an easy pass to fulfill your science credit. Oh boy, were you wrong. Immediately, you were thrown into the depths of mitosis and chromosomes. The only good thing that came out of it was your new friendship with Hange. On your first day, Hange complimented your sweater and asked if they could sit with you. Hange was a genetics major so this class was easy, hell, it was fun for them. They offered to tutor you so you bought them coffee during your study sessions in return.

“Yeah, you’re right but still,” You said in between sips of your coffee. “How do you like this stuff?” 

“Oh, it’s fascinating to me, it’s crazy how we’re made up of tiny cells and in those cells is our human history but we can’t even see it. It’s like the world’s smallest yet most important puzzle.” Hange’s eyes lit up as they continued speaking. 

You listened and continued to drink your coffee. It was late but the cafe was still busy with college students hurrying to type their papers and study for tests. The lamps left soft yellow shadows on the cream colored walls. The cafe was homey and it felt like it was a cottage pulled straight out of a forest. From the back of the cafe, you could see the entrance. It was raining and people ran across the sidewalk with their jackets over their heads. You laughed through your nose.

“Hey! Are you listening?” Hange questioned. 

“What? Of course, I am. Science is the answer to everything, right?” You quipped. 

Hange rolled their eyes and went back to their textbook. You kept your eyes on the front door. It had been a few days since you had seen your coffee shop friend. The word friend was a loose term for your relationship with the dark-haired boy. Your relationship started one day when you were sitting in the spot you are now, it was late, close to 1 am and after downing two cups of coffee you needed to pee. Across from you was a small man holding a used copy of Slaughterhouse Five, he was dressed in all black and was munching on a muffin. You asked him to watch your stuff, he nodded and pushed his hair away from his gray eyes. From that point on, you developed a friendship founded on your mutual respect for privacy yet concern over each other’s well-being. It became an unspoken rule that this was the only place you would meet. Your attention returned to your work, if he wasn’t going to show up then whatever, he was just another stranger. 

“Hange, I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

“What?! Why?! We haven’t even gotten to the good part, wait until you hear about what happens to the amino acids during replication.” The same familiar look of excitement washed over Hange’s face. 

“Look as exciting as it all sounds, I’m gonna have to pass.” You began to gather your things when the front door opened. You looked up and saw the dark-haired boy. He looked as pretty as always with a beige tote bag draped across his shoulder, droplets of rain hung onto his dark strands. Next to him stood a tall, handsome blonde man who was looking around the cafe. His eyes stopped when he reached your table and he lifted a hand and waved at you. You looked at him confused. 

“LEVIIII!! ERWIIIN!!” Hange yelled and waved their arms. People looked up at them with annoyance. 

“Wait, you know them?” You asked.

“Who, those idiots? Yeah. I forgot to tell you I invited them to study with us. Levi promised to help me write a paper,” Hange said nonchalantly. “Shit! I should have asked you if that’s okay. Is it?” 

You looked down and felt your face redden, “no worries, it’s not a problem.” 

“I’ll introduce you to them, they’re buttheads but they don’t bite.”

You sat back down and looked at your notebook as the dark-haired boy and the tall blonde walked towards you. A bundle of nerves planted themselves in your stomach but you couldn’t understand why. You’ve known this man for a couple of months now, slowly building a friendship at your own pace. It was nice to have control over something in your life for once but life always has a different plan for you; it was time to properly meet the dark-haired boy. All rules are eventually broken.

You ruffled the papers in front of you and took another sip of your drink but it was empty. Shit, you thought. The two men were standing in front of you and Hange at this point. The dark-haired boy looked at you, his brows furrowed.

“Hey, you’re House Coffee,” he said in a monotonous tone.

The blonde man and Hange looked at him confused, “wait, you know her?” Hange asked.

You shook your head, “nope.”

The dark-haired boy looked at you confused.

“Well, kinda, actually,” You muttered.

“Huh, that’s cool!” Hange announced. “Levi’s a little bitch but you probably already knew that.”

“Shut up, Four Eyes,” Levi retorted.

The blonde man laughed, “my name is Erwin. I’m a Political Science and History double major.” He gave you a dashing smile and lifted his hand.

Levi rolled his eyes, “humble much?”

Erwin gave him a glare before returning his clear blue eyes to you. You chuckled and raised your hand to his. It was a firm handshake.

“My name is (Y/N), it’s very nice to meet you, Erwin. And it’s Levi, right?” Your head turned to the dark-haired boy and he blushed slightly. Hange and Erwin exchanged a look.

Hange raised their hands slightly and asked, “I’m confused.”

“When aren’t you.” Levi remarked.  

“Oh, shut it you. I thought you two already knew each other.”

You placed your hands around the empty mug, hoping it would stabilize your nerves. “Know might be a strong word, I guess we’ve seen each other here before?“ You shrugged and looked at Levi.

He nodded, “I agree, we sometimes look after each other’s stuff and talk about books.”

“Good to know. I’m glad Levi has someone else to talk to,” Erwin declared.

They pulled out two chairs and placed them around the table. Erwin pulled out his laptop and his binders, everything was color-coordinated down to the tabs and pens. Levi pulled out a yellow notepad and a beat up copy of On the Road and single black pen. He tried his best to act natural but was unsure how to act around you and his friends. He wasn’t prepared for his two worlds to crash, it wasn’t that he was ashamed to know you. He enjoyed your company but it was something that was special to him. He didn’t want to share those precious late night hours with anyone else but you.

“I’m going to go buy a tea, (Y/N) do you want anything?” Erwin said pointing at your empty cup.

“Uh no-” You were about to say before Levi interrupted you.

“12 oz house coffee, splash of soy,” He stated.

Hange raised their eyebrows, in all their years of friendship he had never bothered to learn their coffee order. Erwin was equally as surprised. You stared at Levi, unsure what to say.

“Alright, you got it,” Erwin said before grabbing your empty mug.

Levi and Erwin got up and walked to the front counter. Hange grabbed your arm and you looked at them surprised.

“How long have you known Levi?” They whispered.

“Uh, like I said, ‘know’ is a strong word but a couple of months. We just sit near each other and sometimes talk. It’s not a big deal.”

“I can’t believe Levi didn’t tell me he knew you,” Hange said in disbelief.

“Did you tell him about me?” You retorted

“No but still. If I knew my two friends knew each other, I would have set this study party together a long ass time ago.”

You shrugged and went back to looking at your notes. By this time, Levi and Erwin were walking back to the table. Erwin was holding a mug of tea and your coffee, Levi was holding a mug of tea in one hand and an apple muffin in another. Erwin handed you your coffee and you thanked him. He sat in front of you and Levi opposite of him. Erwin cleared his throat and asked, “how do you guys know each other?”

“We met in genetics class,” You responded.

“You’re a science major, too?”Erwin asked.

“No, I’m a humanities major but I still need my science requirement so I’m taking this class and majorly regretting it.”

“Hey, it’s not all bad. We’re friends now,” Hange nugged their elbow at you, you gave them a smile and nodded.

“What a reward,” Levi muttered.

You held back a laugh which made Levi smile, he hid it behind his book.

“How do the three of you know each other?” You pointed to the trio.

Hange shot up from their text book and exclaimed,“oh, (Y/N) you’re going to love this so it all started four years ago…”

It was their freshman year, Levi’s uncle had just dropped him off at the dorms and left him alone to unpack. Levi didn’t have much except for a suitcase of clothes, a bed sheet set and a small box of books. He started to put his clothes away in the drawers when the door opened and a lean, tall blonde boy and his father walked in, pulling a cart of the boy’s belongings.

“Hi, you must be my roommate. My name is Erwin,” he stood at the doorway awkwardly waving at Levi.

“Levi.”

“Hello, I’m Erwin’s dad, nice to meet you.”

Levi gave him a small smile and continued to organize his side of the room, it took about fifteen minutes in total. After Erwin’s dad left, Levi and Erwin sat on their respectives beds in silence. It took them awhile but eventually they bonded over their mutual love of Russian poetry. Over the next few weeks, they built a symbiotic relationship filled with chore charts and late night study hangs. Levi genuinely enjoyed Erwin’s presence, he was his first friend outside of his hometown. Erwin felt the same way too. He never had a huge opportunity to meet people since he was homeschooled until his final two years of high school. They had found a companion in each other.

The week before Thanksgiving break, Erwin convinced Levi to host a small gathering in their dorm. Levi hesitantly agreed and Erwin managed to get his hands on a weed brownie. They invited a few of their floormates and shared the goods and drank a single Mike’s Hard Lemonade that Hange brought. They sat on the concrete floor and waited for the weed to hit after thirty minutes, no one was high. One of their floormates, Zeke, took a whiff of the brownie and laughed.

“Erwin, this is a fucking regular brownie,” he glanced at Erwin who was tenderly sipping out of the bottle. Zeke’s roommate, Porco laughed.

“No, it can’t be,” Erwin responded. Hange looked around nervously and Levi glared at Zeke.

“Ha, whatever. This kickback is lame anyways. Let’s go,” Zeke and the others left.

Hange, Erwin, and Levi stayed in silence for a few minutes until Hange spoke, “I thought it was a good brownie.”

Erwin gave them a half-hearted smile and looked down at the bottle. Levi sighed and walked to his closet.

“Now that those fucktards are gone, let’s have a real party,” Levi said as he pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

Erwin looked at Levi, shocked. “How long have you had that?”

“My uncle gave it to me when he dropped me off. As a going away present.” Levi shrugged it off.

The rest of the night was spent taking shots of whiskey and playing cards games, it was the first night of many.

“Wait, really? Erwin you bought a dud brownie.” You held your side as you laughed.

Erwin looked sheepishly at his drink. Levi had a smirk on his face.

“Yeah! Looking back at it now, it’s the funniest thing ever. But those other guys were jerks. I don’t remember their names now or anything but I hope they’re living horrible lives,” Hange proclaimed.

“I believe it and I hope so too.” You wiped a tear from your face and felt Levi’s gaze on you.

Levi had never seen you laugh that hard, he liked this side of you. He went back to notating his book but he couldn’t deny the feeling of warmth in his chest. The four of you remained in comfortable silence for a while. The coffee shop began to slow down as the clock ticked further into the night.

“This has been a lot of fun but I think I’m going to call it,” Erwin’s deep voice broke the silence of the table.

The three of you nodded in agreement and began to pack your bags. You watched Levi’s slender fingers gently put his belongings into his tote bag. His dark hair was getting long, it brushed against his cheek as he moved his body. You looked away quickly, you knew nothing could happen between the two of you but watching him interact with his friends casted a new light on him. Levi, what a name, you thought. For the past couple months, he was your secret friend, someone you could talk to without feeling judged because he was so removed from your everyday life but now, it was different. You both shared a mutual connection and of course, you shared the countless hours spent in this cafe.

The four of you made casual conversation as you exited the cafe. The cold air whipped your face and you tugged your scarf tighter around your neck.

“Hey, do you need a ride? I’m parked a block away,” Erwin asked you.

“Don’t worry, hot stuff. I’ll walk her home.” Hange winked at Erwin, Levi rolled his eyes.

“I live a few blocks away but thank you. It was really nice to meet you Erwin and Levi it’s nice to finally know your name.”

Levi looked down at the ground and a pink glow appeared on his face, “yeah, this was nice.”

You watched them turn around and walk in the opposite direction for a moment before turning to Hange. The air was cool and the clouds had parted, leaving open an endless sky peaking through the buildings and the trees. It had become a ritual for the two of you to walk home after study sessions since you lived a few blocks away from each other. Hange made casual conversation on your walk home but you hardly paid attention. You kept on thinking about Levi and wishing you never learned his name.

[yikeswtfmate]

Peonies

Pairing: Tattoo Artist! Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve has a new client who knows exactly what she wants. And a tattoo.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: language; filth F I L T H, i’m not joking this is smut (praise kink; slight daddy kink; fingering; slight spanking; unprotected sex; hair pulling??? Steve Rogers’ face??????????)

A/N: listen. LISTEN. Steve Rogers has been the bane of my existence for too many days to count now, so i had to let it all out somehow, ok? @the-chocolate-moose is the sole reason for me unleashing this filth on you all so go yell at her if you don’t like my first ever attempt at smut, i can’t be held responsible

A/N2: THIS is what prompted this whole thing; have these images in your heads as well, so now sit back and enjoy this fuckery

A/N3: @the-chocolate-moose​ suggested i name this Peonies bc “it’s nice and close to penis”; i thought “just fuck me up man idc anymore” would be more fitting

masterlist

Steve is not in the mood today. He’s not in the mood to listen to Nat constantly blowing and popping her gum, he’s not in the mood to watch Sam obsessively clean the leather seats in the entire studio, he’s not in the mood to smell the acrid odour of cigarettes that Bucky brings in with him after he’s had his break.

He’s definitely not in the mood to feel his tshirt sticking to his back and shoulders as he’s working on the design of a new tattoo. With the AC broken, he’s more than grateful for the small autumn breeze that occasionally wafts in through the open doors. Maybe he should just close for the day. After all, none of them have any appointments left and who even comes in to get a tattoo at 4 pm on a Friday?

“Hi.”

Steve looks up from his notebook to be greeted by a woman leaning on the high counter. She’s smiling, a cheeky grin that he’s only ever noticed in regular customers whenever they come up with a new idea for a tattoo. Her fingers tap on the mahogany, indicating nervousness and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear when he hikes his glasses up on his head.

“Hi.” Steve smiles – customer service force of habit or just because she’s so damn gorgeous? “How can I help you?”

“Well, uh – I’m here for a tattoo obviously.” She says, eyes flashing down for a second. “My friend recommended your studio and I was in the neighbourhood anyway, so I thought I’d stop by to make an appointment.”

“What do you have in mind?” Steve asks, taking out the planner, ready to find a free spot for her.

“Oh, I want my hip covered in peonies.” She says with such nonchalance as if she’s just going to buy some milk.

A quick inspection of the upper part of her body over the counter makes Steve wonder if she does have any tattoos and whether she knows what she’s getting into. His weariness must be written all over his face because she just giggles and waves her hand in dismissal.

“Don’t worry. I have a pretty big back tattoo. I know I’m going to be yours for at least five hours.”

And the way she says it, a corner of her lips raised into a tiny smirk and her head tilting to one side makes Steve lick his lips. He chuckles, shaking his head because he’d be damned if he doesn’t like the way she’s making it sound. He’s more than aware of her eyes on him as he stands up and invites her to take a seat on the couch. Planner and notebook in his hands, he settles down next to her, without failing to notice the way her tight skirt rides up her thighs when she scuttles closer to him.

“Tell me.” He says, glasses back on the bridge of his nose and pen on paper.

“Right, well I want it big.” And there it is, that amused tone in her voice again, but he’s more focused on her fingers brushing the top of her hipbone to the middle of her thigh. “And I want it in illustrative style because I can’t deal with blackwork and watercolours are just too much for me.”

Soon Steve has a pretty clear idea of exactly what she (Y/N, he found out earlier, after she’s repeated his name, tasting it on her tongue like a particularly delicious candy) wants; she seems to know a lot about tattoos, and he would be lying if he would say that doesn’t turn him on just a little bit. Maybe that’s why he can’t help himself from biting his finger, while listening to her. He’s excited to start to work on her tattoo, and he’s more than excited to spend some time with her, so when she asks him whether they’re open on Sunday he doesn’t even take time to consider.

“No, but I can open up only for you.” He offers and he doesn’t miss the thought that can be clearly seen on her face for a split fraction of a second.

“So it would only be the two of us in an empty studio while you’d be working on me for – how many hours did you say? Four?” Her eyes narrow, her voice purring and her fingers lightly graze his forearm.

“At least.” He nods, playing into her game with a smirk.

“Well, then. Being yours for at least four hours does not sound bad at all, Steve.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Y/N.”

*

Bucky and Sam give him hell after Y/N’s left, hooting and hollering like two fucking teenagers. Steve just rolls his eyes at them, ignoring their jabs and lewd jokes, but he doesn’t miss Nat’s knowing smile.

“What?” He snaps when she wouldn’t look away. “What???”

“Nothing.” She shrugs. “It’s just funny how you wouldn’t even show her our portfolios.”

“Why?” He asks defensively. “You don’t do big ink, Bucky only does watercolour and Sam’s on holiday next week anyway.”

“But she’s coming in on Sunday.” Sam points out, chuckling.

“And you seem to have all the answers to support your already possessive behaviour there, punk.” Bucky laughs.

“Fuck off, all of you.” Steve grumbles, already on his way to the back of the studio where he can work in silence on what must be now his new favourite flowers.

“Just make sure you don’t drool on her when you’re gonna tattoo her, bud!” Nat yells after him and he slams the door shut on a wave of laughter.

*

It’s Sunday and Steve looks at the clock right when it turns exactly 4 o’clock. His gaze instinctively turns to the door, but of course he shouldn’t expect her to be there right on the dot. Instead he looks down at the paper, trying to decide whether it’s detailed enough or too detailed? Is it too big? Too small? Would she like it? Would she want to have his work on her body for the rest of her life? And then another shiver runs along his spine, fingers twitching in anticipation, and his cock might pulse just one second at that particular thought – his work on her body for the rest of her life.

Steve’s startled out of his thoughts by a quick rapping on the glass door. She’s standing there, smile already evident on her face and he takes his time observing her as he makes his way over. He silently praises her for choosing a flowing skirt today, he knows that last tight one would’ve been hell on freshly tattooed skin; yet she’s making up for it with a very tight tiny top. Thank fuck for this particularly warm autumn.

“Hi!” She beams, stepping in and letting him lock behind her. “Ready to do me?”

Steve chokes on fucking air, but he has the good sense to start laughing. He’s thankful her back is to him because he already has to adjust his fucking jeans. She’s throwing her bag on the couch, takes in a big breath and turns to look at him, practically vibrating with excitement. Steve raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment on it – he knows how addictive the experience can become, his plethora of tattoos can only stand as an example.

“We’re gonna be in the back, babe.” Steve says absentmindedly, as he goes to pick up the hectograph paper.

“Babe?” She remarks, closer to him than he thought, her breath right on his cheek. “I hope you don’t call all your clients that.”

The tips of Steve’s ears turn pink. He hadn’t realised what he said, and he definitely wouldn’t have said it out loud, but every time he’s thought about Y/N in the last days his mind only supplied him with the image of her saying his name, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, her fingers on the tattoos on his right forearm while staring in wonder – babe, be a doll and suck my cock. Pink on his cheeks now as well.

“Come on, big boy. Show me where you want me.” Y/N winks and she’s already sauntering off to the back door.

It’s not his fault that all his blood is rushing to his dick now, it really isn’t. It’s her swaying ass and those long legs that will be completely bare in just a few seconds. Or maybe her inability to say anything without making it sound like an innuendo. Whatever it is, Steve has to readjust his jeans again.

He’s behind her in a few seconds, and he knows she’s doing it on fucking purpose when she steps back into his chest to open the door. She smells like vanilla and patchouli and Steve grunts deep in his throat; she doesn’t even apologise, instead she just tilts her head back until she can look at him and grins.

“You’re really big, did you know that?”

Steve just smirks and with a well-placed hand on her hip, he guides her forward. He can hear the faint giggle; the little minx is playing and she has him lapping from her hands, but two can play at this game, and he doesn’t like losing.

The room is definitely darker than the sunlit reception, but the bright lamp right next to the leather bed makes up for it. It almost feels as if it’s night, and Steve notices the way her back arches just an inch.

She hops on the bed, feet dangling over and she’s holding out her arms, reaching for the paper in his hand. Steve hands it to her without much preamble, and sits down in his chair, set to prepare the ink and his gun. He’s suddenly very aware of the closed door and how small this room is so he’s trying to distract himself in case she’ll be disappointed.

A gasp escapes her lips, making his head snap up. Now or never he supposes, but she’s grinning widely.

“I love it.” She whispers and there’s relief rushing through his entire body. Pleased, more than pleased to be entirely fair – he’s fucking aroused by her praise. Interesting.

“Do you want me to make any changes to it?” Steve asks, remembering that he’s actually supposed to do his job right now, and not get a fucking boner over her glinting eyes. “You’re gonna have this on you for the rest of your life so now’s the time to voice any concerns, sweetheart.”

“No, it’s perfect.” She promises and hands him the paper. Hopping off the bed, she looks at him, maintaining eye contact as she speaks. “Now. Should I get this skirt off or do you wanna do it, babe?”

And there it is. Back to being a little shit, especially when throwing that ‘babe’ back at him. Steve grunts and waves his go ahead, turning back to his gun. He refuses to look at her, to watch her shimmy out of the flowery thing, to look at her legs stepping out of it, to see the smirk on her face that he’s more than sure she’s sporting. He hears that small huff of air she lets out when she lays down, hears the creak of the bed under her body, hears the big inhale he has to take in before he moves his chair to finally face her.

Oh, fuck.

It’s not the long legs or the curve of her thighs or that very glaring dip that he’d so like to explore that do it for him, it’s the panties she’s wearing – red, lacy, small. His hands are hovering above her, blinking lazily over the expanse of skin and she must know now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, exactly what he’s thinking.

“You know,” she purrs from somewhere to his side. He’s not sure, because her thighs are rubbing together now. “I think I’ll have to take these off as well, considering how big it’s going to be.”

And that’s it. Steve’s had enough of it. He looks down at her, sees her teeth sinking into her bottom lip, one hand right above the line of her underwear, the other squeezing the edge of the bed. He grumbles deep in his chest, which makes her pupils dilate even more. Does she want to play then? Fine, he’ll give her something to play with.

“Yes, I think it would be best if you would.” He says, leaning back into his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest.

She’s startled then, confused for a moment at his blatant answer, but it’s easy to read his smirk. Easy to read what an arm over the armrest and a finger in his teeth means, as his tongue darts out to wet his lips – waiting. Are you going to do this? Daring her.

“Come on, baby, are you going to take them off for me?” He prods further, and it seems that does it for her.

Fingers slip under the waistband and he watches as she lifts up her ass, dragging them over her thighs, knees up and completely off. The piece of cloth dangles from her finger, as she offers it to him in her own silent dare. Are you going to do something about this?

“Any other requests, sir?”

His cock twitches once more, as if he isn’t already fucking hard with her half naked in front of him, an inch away from his touch. He stands up, grabs the panties and tucks them in his back pocket.

She squirms under his stare, legs pressed together but he doesn’t like that. One finger on her knee, and he pushes it to the side, then does the same thing with the other one. Pussy on display, his mouth is watering just as much as she’s dripping on the leather.

He leans closer, hands now behind his back and she’s shivering under his breath on her ear.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He grunts.

A whine and her fingers grab his forearm in a vice like grip. “You know what I want.”

“You have to use your words, Y/N.” Steve tuts.

She groans in frustration, letting her head fall back. “Please, Stevie, I need you to fuck me.”

He smirks then. An eye for an eye, wasn’t it? But she’s pleading and he’s been thinking about fucking her for three days straight already. He’s not in the mood to delay this any further – he’ll have time to savour her inch by inch later. For now, he just wants to fuck her.

He takes off his jeans, already feeling some of the tension leaving him. His boxers follow and he smiles like a Cheshire cat when her reaction is to lick her lips and sit up on the bed in anticipation. She wanted to play, didn’t she?

Steve sits back down on his chair, slowly, languidly and looks up at her. She’s waiting, but he notices the twitch in her fingers, the way her legs press together and she’s squirming on the bed, trying to find some kind of friction. He smiles then – benevolently, like a generous benefactor and raises his eyebrows. What do you want?

“Please.” She moans – practically drooling.

Steve pats his thigh, “Come on, baby. Come here.”

Y/N is on top of him immediately, straddling him, fingers grazing his scalp, tugging at his hair. His hands circle her waist, big hands on her hips and he’s guiding her down until she can rut against his legs. Her lips are on his then, biting, tugging, moaning into his mouth, lapping at each corner, saliva dripping just like her pussy.

“Please, Steve. Please.” She whimpers, because fuck she needs more, she needs so much more, she needs to have him fill her up and Steve is just there, his cock twitching right on her stomach and she can’t take it anymore.

“What do you want, baby?” He grunts, right when his fingers slip inside her folds and yesrightthereyesfuckohfuckStevefuck. “Are you going to cum for me, honey? You going to cum for daddy?”

And shit, she must’ve not known that was something that she likes, because the moment those words leave his lips, as his fingers so expertly pump into her and his thumb is circling her clit, she throws back her head with a scream. Blinding stars and all the lights in the world play right in front of her eyes, and Steve can feel her pussy clenching around his fingers before he takes them out and licks them clean.

Steve waits for her to regain her breath as he kisses her collarbones softly, before he gets annoyed with the fabric between them. He tugs at her top until she weakly raises her arms, allowing him to throw it somewhere she doesn’t really care about. She does, however, care about the fact that he’s also still wearing his tshirt and that’s just a shame because underneath that it’s the most glorious sight she’s ever seen.

The sleeve tattoos are usually entirely on display, but Steve would be lying if he’d say he doesn’t know the effect the eagle on his chest has or the way that BROOKLYN on his abs is always either licked or touched. And of course, her fingers also instantly follow the letters’ path.

“Fuck.” She whispers.

“That’s what I intend to do, sweetheart.” He grins and with one arm around her waist, he has her standing up, pushing her into the bed, ass in the air.

He’s surprised for a second to see the massive lion tattoo on her back, her previous words forgotten somewhere in his hazy mind. She looks at him over her shoulder when his hand traces the lines, before his tongue licks a strip right through the middle of her spine. She arches back, a shudder going through her whole body when she lines herself just perfectly to him. Steve has to steady her with his hands on her hips before she starts rutting against him again.

“Steve, please.” She mewls and he hears the leather hissing under her fingers.

“Manners.” He grunts, lining himself just right.

“Oh, fuck you, Steve!” She seethes, but her words turn into a moaning hiss when a slap crackles on her ass.

“I said manners, baby.”

A low growl, but she knows what he wants. “Please, daddy. Please, I need you to fuck me, please, I can’t. I just – please, please, please.”

Her chant fills the small room, turning into an entire litany of profanities and obscene noises the moment Steve enters her. He groans when he feels her so tight and wet and warm around him and fuck he’d stay like this forever, if she wouldn’t push back into him, asking him to move already. She settles her forehead on the bed when his large hands squeeze her hips almost painfully, dragging himself slowly back, and then thrusting into her with force. He continues his ministrations painstakingly slowly, until she starts meeting his thrusts.

“Fuck, faster, please. Please, Steve.” She pants, hands scrabbling at the edge of the leather.

Steve grunts when she starts moving again, but a hand in her hair keeps her in place. He starts thrusting deeper, faster, rougher, and her head falls back into the bed, letting him do all the work because fuck if she could keep up with this.

“Is this what you wanted, baby? You wanted me to fuck you hard?” Steve grunts.

Her words are slurred in response, but he picks up the slew of ‘yes’ and ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ and his name – his name falling off her lips like a delicious chant, and he’s never heard anything more perfect than the sound of his pounding into her, her moans and his name from her mouth. He can already feel her walls clenching around his cock, so he drags her up by her hair, until her back is pressed to his chest, hand around her throat. Her head falls back onto his shoulder, giving him plenty of access to bite along her neck.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby? Come on, sweetheart, cum for me. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

His movements are becoming frantic, and he removes his hand from her hip to bring it to her clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive bud. She’s whimpering now, breathless and a fucking mess, yet he’s never seen her more beautiful than right in this moment, right when she’s coming undone around his cock. He’s right behind her, the moment he sees her eyes roll back into her head, feeling her go slack in his arms. A growl deep within his chest and they’re both sagging over the bed, spent and fucked into oblivion.

He slips out and she lets out a low hiss at the sudden emptiness. Steve watches the way his cum drips along her thighs, and would care more about how much cleaning up and disinfecting he’s going to have to do later if it weren’t for her nails on his forearm. He looks at her, a smile on his own lips in reply to her blissful grin.

“I think I’m relaxed enough to have that tattoo now.”

[marvinswriting]

old vers

ménage, chapter one

ménage: (noun) the members of a household hi! welcome to my first (posted) original g/t work! its gonna be multi chaptered, this one is pretty much worldbuilding, but there’s more to come!

riley pov

It was night time, the only light in the kitchen was the moonlight filtering softly into the kitchen. The white glow bounced delicately off the counter under the windowsill, illuminating the room. A girl entered the room, walked silently across the tile floor. She walked with purpose, seemingly already knowing what she was looking for- but paused with confusion when the counter was empty. "Where are you hiding?" There was no audible response, but the girl knew better. She looked to the dark corner of the kitchen with a grin. "Hey Audwin". 

A small figure emerged from the shadows, no more than four inches tall. The form moved across the counter, stopping when they reached the moonlight. "You're getting better at sensing where I am." His small voice traveled perfectly across the silent kitchen.

"I've been practicing." The girl said softly, crossing the kitchen. 

This was their friendship. They had two different worlds, two different lives. Yet on late night meetings, they were equal. Nobody knew they hung out. Borrowers would think the boy was reckless and humans would think the girl was crazy. So they met in secrecy. 

They didn’t talk much that night. They simply enjoyed each other’s company.

"You should get to bed." The borrower commented after a while. "You're going to be miserable tomorrow if you don’t."

The girl smiled. "Maybe."

"Definitely." 

The girl laughed. "Fine, I"ll go to bed. Good night, Audwin."

"Until tomorrow." He smiled, watching the girl get up and leave the kitchen, the room falling silent once again.

Lenna laughed, pulling her teddy bear closer to her. “That’s my favorite story.”

“Really?” I smile, closing the book. “I like the one where the borrower fights a mouse.”

“He fights a mouse?!” Lanna sits up in bed wide eyes. “Read it, Riley!”

“No no, you promised one bedtime story and you wouldn't give a problem about going to sleep tonight.”

Lanna pouts. “I’m nine! Why can’t I stay up?”

“Sorry sweets, Rebeckah said it’s bedtime. Look, Kenny fell asleep.” I point across the room to where a blond mop of hair peaked out from under to covers of another bed.

“Kenny is eight. I’m nine.”

“Oh quite the age difference, huh.” When the only response I got was a stuck out tongue, I continued, “Let’s make a deal,” I say, turning to book over in my hand. “I’ll read you two stories before bed tomorrow if you go to bed now.”

Lanna perked up instantly. “Deal!” She throws the covers over her head and I laugh. “Night, Lanna.”

“Goodnight, Riley!”

I smile, turning the lights off in the room, watching the night light reflect off the two beds. Lanna and Kenny were the two youngest children that Rebeckah is fostering. It’s hard to get them to bed when everyone else stays up so late but- I look at the book I’m holding- bedtime stories work magic.

The ‘book’ was a collection of short stories Rebeckah wrote when she was little. She still writes, but not as often. I remember her reading me stories when I was little, and now I read them when Rebeckah is busy. 

Rebeckah works hard. She takes care of six kids, has an at home job, and still has time to write stories of tiny people in the walls. She had to have at least three notebooks full and no two stories are the same. We’ve tried to convince her to publish them but she says they’re personal. Which- I understand, but also if I could write like her, I’d want everyone to know.

I walk downstairs and stop in front of Rebekah’s office, knocking gently on the door.

“Come in!”

I step into the work, holding up the book. “Just wanted to put this back.”

“Kenny give you any problems about bed?”

“No, it was actually Lanna.”

Rebeckah raises her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I grin, placing the notebook amongst the others on a shelf in the back of the room. “When did you start writing these books?” I ask, my finger trailing across the spine of them.

Rebekah gets up from her desks, standing next to me. “Oh, maybe I was thirteen when I wrote the first one?” She picked up one of the notebooks.

It was evidently the oldest. The spine of the book was loose and the cover was faded. Some of the pages had folded corners and the pen ink smudged in places. Rebeckah turned it over in her hand, opening the back cover. There was a small date I never noticed before written neatly in the bottom right.

“I was fourteen, actually.” 

“You were a good writer for a fourteen year old.” I say. “The stories feel so real.”

Rebeckah simply winks. 

“Thank you, Riley. Now- I’m almost done with my work for tonight but if I want to be done before eight I’m gonna need you to shoo.” She waved me away with a smile.

“Oh, don’t let me stop you.” I grin, shutting the door to the office behind me. 

It clicks shut, the sound echoing softly through the hallway. Just another typical saturday night. Rebeckah works late, Matteo makes dinner, I put the young ones to bed, and then-

“Riley!” A voice calls from further in the house.

I grin knowingly. Right on cue. “Be quiet Evan, Lanna and Kenny are sleeping!”

There’s no response, probably for the best. Screaming across the house is surely a way to wake the younger kids.

I make my way back up the stairs, creeping past Lanna and Kenny’s room, before slipping into the room at the very end of the hall. “What do the three of you want?”

“Wow, rude. You should know by now” Matteo rolled his eyes, motioning to the tv hooked on the wall across from his bed. 

Matteo was the oldest of all the kids, first to be fostered by Rebeckah, and the one with the nicest room. Him and Megan were the only two who didn’t share a room, but that didn’t mean the older kids didn��t crash in Matteo’s room all the time. I think Evan and I spent more time here then in our own room.

“Riley sits next to me!” Megan grins, patting the spot on the bed next to her. 

Evan had already gotten situated on a chair he pulled up next to the bed.

“I dunno, Meg, Matteo may want to sit on his own bed.”

Matteo and I were seventeen with Evan turning seventeen in two weeks, Megan on the other hand, was barely thirteen. Which wasn’t a problem, I love Meg, but I glanced at the horror movie queued up on Matteo's TV with a raised eyebrow.

Evan raised his hands in defense. “Megan picked it.”

“Really?!” I grin.

“I wanna try and watch it.” Megan smiled as Matteo sat next to her. 

“If you insist.” I shake my head, sitting on the floor in front of Evan. “If you get nightmares, Matteo is dealing with it.”

“I’m a teenager. I’m too big for nightmares.” Megan stuck out her tongue as Matteo hit play. 

“If you say so, Meg.” Evan teased. 

Despite what Meg said, she tapped out halfway through the movie, claiming she was ‘just tired’ and ‘ready for bed’. Matteo, Evan, and I all grinned knowingly but let her leave before finishing the movie ourselves. 

Just another saturday night. 

Rebeckah came up around eleven telling us to go to bed, and Evan and I reluctantly made our way to our room. 

“We’re too old for bedtimes.” Evan whined, changing into his pajamas. 

“Now you sound like Lanna, dude.” I laugh.

Out of everyone in the home, Evan was the closest to me. Both in age and friendship. There’s a reason I share a room with him, not Meg or Lanna. He’s the one to learn all my secrets, not that I could hide anything from him if I tried. 

“So,” Evan grinned, sitting on the edge of my bed, holding out his phone. “I was flirting with this girl, but she turned me down because she’s a lesbian. Which is understandable, but- I told her I know a gal with the same personality as me who’s always complaining about being single. Here’s her photo, and if you want, I can give you her number.”

I laugh. “I don't need you to play wingman for me, I can get all the girls I want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Evan shook his head in disbelief.

“Hey! You’re just as single as I am, dude. Leave me alone.”

“I’m trying to help you Riley.” Evan laughed. “Do you want the number or not?”

“...yes.”

so, no g/t this chapter, bc *worldbuilding* n shit, but uh, thanks for joining me!  wanna be on a taglist? lmk! all feedback is appreciated, go drink water!

[zmwrites]

tag: 20 first lines

I was tagged by @teasenpaiwrites! Thank you!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20 stories just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag others!

I was tagged in a similar game LITERALLY forever ago by @scmalarky PRE-BLOG MOVE, which makes it the oldest tag game sitting my drafts. It came with the following rules:

Rules: list the first lines of your last ten published stories. note if there are any patterns yourself and see if anyone else notices any! tag ten friends!

I put it off bc to date I’ve only published two stories over on Wattpad. So doing the first lines from the last twenty projects is somehow...easier? I suppose? 

I’ll be putting the opening paragraph or so of each piece, and will only be using WIPs that I actually started at the beginning. Anything that doesn’t start at the actual beginning will be skipped.

Anyways, this is going under a cut bc I know it’s going to be ridiculously long. In order of ‘last modified by me’ as per Google Docs:

Remnants

Radka had been a seamstress in a previous life. Trained from childhood on the most delicate stitches, the most intricate embellishments. She had worked for royalty, sewing crystals and spun gold into skirts for the biggest social events of the year. Her steady hand and attention to detail had earned her a job in the palace by fourteen, and a spot on the queen’s personal seamstress team by fifteen. But that was years in the past. The girl she had been then, demure and innocent, wouldn’t recognize the woman she had grown up to be.

Open Seas

Theresia Bowen sat in the back of one of her family carriages, forehead pressed against the window as she watched the countryside fly past. The sky stretched on forever above her, interrupted only by the occasional wispy white clouds, and the spring sun had melted the snow from the hills to her left. The grass was still struggling to grow but was scattered in patches across the mud. To her right, the sea rolled and waved to the horizon. Ships dotted the deep blue, their sails bright and full with wind. Most were trading ships, a few navy, and the smallest of them all were pleasure ships. It was how she knew they were close to her destination.

Indigo Wars

Violet Colby sat cross-legged on her narrow bed in the room she shared with her two sisters at Osbrick Estate. The name was a holdover from the property’s previous life as a stately home, though not much else had carried over. The walled compound was nestled in the eastern sands of Edristan, less than two kilometres west of the capital city, with sun-bleached buildings that housed several dozen orphans and foundlings.

Pine Hollow

It was a miserable Monday morning, with dark, heavy clouds masking the rising sun and a steady rain pounding the town of Pine Hollow and the surrounding area. The dirt trails through the dense forest were slick with mud, the tire ruts becoming puddles and the puddles becoming proper ponds. It was as far from ideal body hunting conditions as possible without snow, but Virginia Crane had a job to do and she wasn’t about to let some adverse weather stop her.

Rochester WIP

The wedding was supposed to begin in five minutes and the bride was nowhere to be found.

Evelyn Rochester, for her part, was not surprised. Her sister Dorothea had claimed a headache a week earlier to get out of a family outing and had been gone by the time they’d returned. A small chest and a collection of her clothing had been gone as well. Their parents had made inquiries to some family friends but no one had seen Dottie, and at twenty-six she was allowed to do as she pleased, so they’d been left to wait to see if she’d return.

Just Jane

Jane rolled over in the narrow bed, pressing her face into the pillow as though it would make it any easier to sleep. Even as she breathed in the warm, sweet scent of the bed owner’s favourite perfume—myrrh, rose, styrax, and marjoram—a new sound made her ears prick to attention.

UNSS Spectre

The spacecraft glided through the void, following its prey silently. It was using its minimum operating power, leaving the two inside to perform their duties without overhead or emergency lighting. Only the glow of their instruments illuminated the interior of the craft. 

“Cloaking device operating as normal,” Ensign Graecyn Ramsey said. She didn’t need to provide verbal updates since Captain Mezei could see everything that she could see and there was no one else aboard the tiny stealth class craft, but it was habit and she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

Fissures

Katherine Delacroix was seething. It was hard enough trying to get a gaggle of thirteen to eighteen year old girls to focus under normal circumstances but having the #1 most eligible bachelor of the school just hanging out at the back of the auditorium was making it nearly impossible. To make matters worse, the attention paid to the blond was bruising the egos of the boys in the group and she was painfully aware of how desperately the musical needed them not to quit. They already had a female Cogsworth and Le Fou; they didn't have enough girls with deep voices to play Gaston or Lumiere or, god forbid, Beast.

Snapshots

“Are you still looking for a roommate?” Misha asked, voice muffled slightly by whatever she was doing on the opposite end of the phone.

“You mean since you stole my last one? Yes,” Micah replied. He was stuck in traffic on his commute home from work, something his twin sister Misha knew, which was why she’d called when he had no excuse not to talk to her. It wasn’t that he didn’t like talking to her, he just wasn’t much of a talker.

“You’re gonna have to get over that,” she said.

The Tournament

The coin spun in lazy circles on the table, defying every law of physics. Izora Graham watched it with one hand held in a claw-like position over it. She didn't need to but it made it easier to cover the coin should anyone watch it too closely. The bar was still fairly empty so early in the evening and she was tucked away in the back booth away from the few early birds sitting at the counter, however any displays of magic would bring unwanted attention. Especially something that could be useful to any of the Upper Houses like her telekinesis.

Noyama Contest

Earthens had spread across dozens of galaxies once they’d perfected faster-than-light travel, and hundreds of solar systems within those galaxies. PT-759 was one of the galaxies they’d colonized only to find that it was already inhabited. It had ended up working out alright though, as the native species had radically different planetary needs and also happened to find Earthens downright adorable.

Naetov was a smaller planet at the edge of Federation-controlled space in PT-759. It had a few key cities where government funding was funneled to keep them perfect for non-Earthen tourists. Those cities were clean and friendly, open spaces and carefully maintained flora making up the downtown cores, streamlined designs and shiny surfaces giving the impression of a planet on the cusp of significance.

Gossamer Girl

It was the first day of winter and things were already looking bad. Even though the cold weather had held off for an extra two weeks, the harvest had been poor. A mold had festered in their southern field during the wet spring and had spread quickly. They’d razed the infected sections as soon as the fungus had been discovered but it had already destroyed a large swath of plants. They’d lost nearly a quarter of their usual yield and the troubles had only spiralled from there.

Knotted Strings

The room was just a bit too cold to be comfortable. The walls were wood panelled with some sort of reddish wood that matched the flooring. Rows of chairs with collapsible desks filled most of the lecture hall, with the front of the room dominated by a whiteboard and a table. The professor, hawkish in appearance, was perched on a bar stool facing the students and overlooking the table.

Tess lounged in her seat at the table at the front of the room, notebook open on the table in front of her and pen moving deftly across the page. She watched her competition critically as he spoke. His argument was solid enough to cast reasonable doubt on her case, or it would have been had he bothered to address a small piece of evidence she found to be damning. He finished his conclusion to a spatter of applause and returned to his seat across from her. 

“Well done, Mr. Wynn. Miss Kinney, would you like a few moments to prepare your rebuttal?” the professor asked.

“No, I’m good,” Tess replied. She sat up, scribbled a note in her book, and then pushed the book across the table.

Oh, Ophelia

Alexis lounged in the shade next to the pool, sipping a daiquiri and considering her next move. She’d been using the same identity for nearly fifteen years and the neighbours were starting to get suspicious. With all the new beauty products and surgeries available to people of her wealth it was easier to convince people she was nearing forty when she was in the body of a twenty-three year old, but now she had to deal with people asking for her skincare routines and her doctors and the identity wasn’t worth all of the research she was having to do. She was getting sick of Malibu anyways, what with the yearly forest fires that got closer each year. She missed the deep-rooted history of Europe, the memories she had in all of the major cities, the people like her who were still living in their castles and manors pretending like the world hadn’t left them behind.

Bloodlines

Ten of Wands. The Tower. Two of Swords.

Morrigan Keeling sat on the floor of her bedroom, chewing the end of a pen and staring intently at the tarot cards spread in front of her. It was a simple three card spread to indicate how her day was going to go: a card to describe herself, one to indicate what was going to greet her, and another to show the outcome of the situation. She’d gotten into the habit of doing it every day while living at home, and even five years after moving out she found it a relaxing routine to start the day.

The day’s cards, however, were not very relaxing.

PerDeA

The backseat of the car was dark, only illuminated for short intervals by the orange glow of the streetlights. Two figures sat across from each other in the shifting light. In the backwards-facing seat on the driver’s side was PerDeA. Her dark hair was pulled tightly into a ponytail, lips slightly parted as she stared unblinking out the back window. Shoulders square, back straight, chin up, hands folded neatly in her lap, her breathing perfectly rhythmic; she would have looked human if not for the faintly glowing cybernetic blue rings superimposed over her black eyes.

Westhaven

Her eyes were open but she couldn’t see anything. There were mechanical sounds ‒ beeping, whirring ‒ all around her, and voices too far away for her to understand. The sharp smell of antiseptic and the softer detergent scent beneath it.

“Initiate optical system,” a muted female voice instructed. Between one breath and the next she started processing visual information: bright white lights above her, the featureless ceiling beyond, her own nose and eyelashes. She couldn’t move her head to see much else. Walls that matched the ceiling so well it was hard to tell where one became the other, bits of the bed she was on with its bleachable white sheets and side rails.

“Increase tactile responsivity by fifty percent and disengage the motion inhibitors.”

Pro Patria Mori

She sat on the narrow bed with her packed suitcase next to her. Her blonde hair was pinned back, her blue eyes fixed on a spot next to the door, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The winter chill clung like burrs to the house, helped by the heavy spring rain that beat against the window in a staccato rhythm. Outside, trees bowed under the charcoal sky. The old house creaked and groaned around her, the wind whistling and wailing as the storm continued to batter the country estate. She waited.

At any moment there would be a knock on the main door of the house. Godfrey, the aged and shuffling butler, would answer. Standing on the other side would be some men in crisp uniforms, holding up her picture and asking if he knew her. She had seen them in town the evening before, and it wouldn’t take more than a day before someone pointed them in the right direction. They looked like military men but there was something different in their manner, something sharper. Godfrey would lead them up, and up, and up, until they reached her third floor apartment. The butler would introduce them, she would smile politely, and she would leave with them without a fight.

The Clocktower

Astra hated Capperham. The way it sprawled its squalor from border to border, from the sea in the west to the battlements in the other three directions. The harbour reeked of dead fish and unwashed human, the slums of sickness and stale beer. Even the neighbourhoods of rich merchants and factory owners lay under the thick smog of black soot the mines and mills spat out day and night. The grit and dirt was part of everything, so deeply ingrained that even the most rigorous scrubbing couldn’t make something clean.

Stars Incline Us

The Christmas gala was in full swing. The entire ballroom was full of people Pippa didn’t know, all wearing fancy clothes that probably cost more than her rent. Her own dress was aubergine and a simple V-neck, form-fitting enough to be attractive but loose enough to not draw too much attention.

She and another girl who didn’t seem to know anyone at the event were chatting with Antero and Mr. Rabinoff near the edge of the dance floor. Antero was already antsy to leave despite the dinner having just ended, but Mr. Rabinoff had trapped him in a debate he was too proud to back down from. The other girl was from legal and either found them hilarious or had had a little too much to drink because she kept giggling, leaving Pippa no choice but to laugh along while adding the occasional remark to the back and forth between the men.

That brings us all the way back to October 2016. Which tells me that I need to start at the beginning of more stories haha. If anyone has questions about any of these, please feel free to ask. Also, if you read all of that, you are a saint and a hero and have my eternal friendship.

I tag @the-writing-avocado​, @radiowrites​, @pigeon-hold​, @sleepyowlwrites​, @akindofmagictoo​, and anyone else who wants to share their projects!! As always, no pressure (to play or to read this whole post lmao).

[the-record]

Love at First Sight (2)

Category: FLUFF ABSOLUTE FLUFF

Warnings: None (In this part.)

Spencer Reid x Fem! reader

A/N: Hey! This is a totally fluff slow burn. There will be multiple parts bc I suck that way. Enjoy!

Gif not mine

“Hey genius!” That had become your nickname for him, he didn’t seem to care that you called him that but never gave you one. “Pen invited us out for drinks, you coming?” He nodded and smiled a little.

“Sure.” You got all excited and pulled him towards the elevator, desperate to get to the bar. “But I’m not drinking.” You look at him disappointed and pouting.

“Spencer please?” He shook his head no.

“Someone has to make sure that you Garcia, and JJ don’t get too drunk. Or if you do, Derek can’t take all of you home. So, no drinks for me.” You threw your head back. 

“Fine, but next time we can take a cab and I am getting you drunk!” He smiled and the two of you walked out together. Nothing more than friends.

***

“There are my two favorite angels! Y/N come with me to get us all drinks, we have been waiting for you.” Garcia says pulling you towards the bar, eager to get you away from the team. “So, Reid drove you here? Oooooh.” 

“Are you sure you haven’t had anything to drink? You seem tipsy to me.” She shakes her head.

“Not even a sip.” She orders drinks for everyone, getting you an insanely alcoholic drink.

“I’m gonna get you back for this Pen, don’t forget it.” You push her shoulder and help her take over drinks, handing JJ hers.

“Oh thank you love, I need it desperately. I have not had more than a small glass of wine in months.” JJ says kissing you on the cheek. Se cared for you like a mom, making sure you were always ok and not hurt with the occasional teasing.

“Of course JJ. Please don’t let Garcia get more then 3 drinks in me, I am not in the mood for a hangover.” She smiles and nods but you knew that you would end up with more than 3 very strong drinks in you system by the end of the night. 

***

“Y/N what drink number is that?” You smile at Spencer who was counting the glasses on your table knowing that at least a third of them were yours. “Ok, it’s time to get you girls home.” He went to get Derek is you started your next drink which was quickly pulled out of your hands. 

“Hey baby girl. Come on let’s get you home. JJ, Hotch will take you home, good night pretty girl.” Derek says to you kissing your head, as Spencer tried to hold you up.

“Come one, my car is right outside.” You nod but can hold yourself up somehow making it to the car. “I am taking you to my apartment so you don’t do anything you regret in the morning.” He says buckling your seatbelt as you nod yourself to sleep. When you wake up again it’s because you could feel someone carrying you. You opened your eyes to see Spencer.

“Spencer...” He shushes you and tells you to go back to sleep and you do as he says.

***

When you wake up you feel like absolute shit. You know where you are, Spencer’s apartment, but his side of the bed is neat so you assume he slept on the couch.

“Good morning.” You roll your eyes at him as you make coffee for the two of you.

“I told JJ no more than 3 drinks. 3 drinks. You’re in charge next time because obviously it’s not a good idea to trust a drunk JJ.” You see your phone on the counter and there are a couple of texts. 

Garcia: Well well well, someone got into Spencer's arms last night!

Derek: Hey loser, make sure to drink some water and eat food. Soak up the alcohol in your system love you.

JJ: I’m not sorry about last night, someone got taken home by Spencer, thank me later.

You knew exactly what they were talking about with Spencer but it wasn’t like that. You were just friends. And besides, you were coworkers.

You bring him his coffee and sugar as you sip yours. 

“Thanks.” He says as you hand him the mug. He is sitting in an arm chair reading a book as he drinks it. You sit next to him on the arm of the chair.

“What book is that?” He looks up at you showing the cover. “Well well well, Sherlock Holmes. Very good series.” He smiles and you return. 

“Thought I should re-read them considering how much you like them.” You can feel your cheeks go red.

“Uh, what d-do you have to eat here?” He points to his cabinet.

“There is some pancake mix in there. Pans and mixing bowls in the cabinet by the stove.” You head to the kitchen and whisk the mix before turning on a burner and pouring some on a greased pan. You flip it to reveal a perfect golden side. 

You finish up the batter and put half on a plate for him and half on a plate for you. He is now sitting at his desk and you bring his plate over to him. He perfectly golden pancakes are cover with syrup and there are utensils next to him. Yours are the same.

“Didn’t know you could cook.” You laugh a little.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say I could cook. Pancakes were the go to breakfast food when we had time. Weekends, snow days, summer, sleepovers. Any time we could make them, we did. Got pretty good at knowing when to flip them so they were cooked but not burnt.” He smiles at this. He was totally gonna hold this above your head.

“Next time I want some pancakes, you have to make them for me considering I had to take you home very drunk last night.” You chuckle at this.

“Deal.” You hear your phone buzz on the counter and walk over to grab it. JJ is calling you. “Hey J what’s up?” You sigh and Spencer can already tell what’s coming. “Yeah yeah I will let him know. See you it 40.” You hang up.

“Case?” You nod.

“They said they can fill us in on the jet we just need to get ready to go.” He nods and you do your best to throw yourself together putting on yesterdays clothes since you had decided to start keeping pajamas at Spencer incase something like this, you getting sickly drunk, happens. Which did pretty often. 

***

“Morning.” You say as you walk in, Spencer behind you. 

“Late night?” Morgan laughs at the redness of your eyes and coffee in hand. Your second cup of the day.

“I will beat your ass Morgan. And yeah, since JJ, didn’t stop me at 3 drinks.” She shrugs with a smirk on her face. Hotch comes into view.

“I will discuss you two later,” looking at you and Spencer, “Now, Y/L/N and Spencer, grab your go bags let’s go.” You take a deep breath preparing for the teasing.

***

Hotch had finished briefing you guys and telling us what you would do when you  landed. You felt sick, like you could throw up so you sat next to Spencer on the couch and tried to sleep but the motion just made it worse. Your head laid on his shoulder, a usual spot for you to sleep. He put his arm around you bringing you in close which shocked you. 

“Hey love birds.” Morgan says as he sits in front of you two. You look at him.

“Morgan I swear to god I will kill you, go away.” He laughs.

“Alright alright, chill out. What’d you two do last night after he took you home?

“He took me over to his place, I slept is his bed he slept on the couch like normal. He woke up before me, I made us coffee and pancakes because I was hungry. Penelope called me to tell me there was a case, we got ready and left. Happy? Now please, I feel like shit so let me sleep. Leave me alone.” Derek’s smile disappears slightly.

“Fine. Get some rest, we need you at your best when we land.” You smile a little and lay on Spencer’s shoulder, falling asleep quickly.  

***

It had been days since you had arrived. A serial killer was targeting families with 1 child and happily married parents. You were assigned to work on the geological profile with Spencer. It wasn’t your strong suit but the two of you put your heads together. You felt a phone buzz as you wrote something down. “Hey what’s up?”  

“They found another victim.” You look at Spencer disappointed.

“Ok, send me the location. Oh and have Garcia find out some stuff about the victim, see if there are any connections now.” You hang up the phone.

“That was JJ. They found another victim. He is sending me the location now.” He nods. “Spencer, can you pass me a pen?” You hand was behind you as you stared at the map and when he handing it to you, you started to mark some points down. When you connected them they made a star with one missing point. It was a single family house. “Spencer, call me Hotch, now. I know who the next victim is.  

“Hey love.” You called Garcia to get some information.

“How can I assist you my angel?” She responds.

“Hey I need some information on an address. 20973 Rockstone Lane. I need a phone number and to know who lives there.” You sigh. “They’re the next victims.” She immediately gets to work. You don’t hang up your phone and grab your gun and badge.  

“Spencer, let’s go. We can meet them up there we are closer. Garcia is getting me a number, hopefully we can warn them.” He grabs your arm.

“Are you sure?” He looks concerned. This case was important to you. The killer had been shooting the parents and torturing the child. It was messing you up and everyone could see it.

“Spencer, grab your gun let’s go.” He nods and heads to the car.  

“Hey beautiful I got a number. Sending it now.” She hung up and you dialed the number she sent you.

“Hello?” It was a woman, there was a T.V. on in the background.  

“Hello. Ma’am I’m Agent Y/L/N with the FBI. I need you to listen very carefully. Get your husband and child and hide. My team is on my way and we will be there soon.”

“What? Why?” You heard screams and looked at Spencer nervously.  

“Ma’am? Hello?” The phone hang up. “Spencer, step on it.” He turned on the sirens and went faster, something he had never done. You arrived and saw a van out front. “I’m going in Spence, we can’t wait any longer.”  

“Y/N, wait! They will be here in like 2 seconds, you aren’t going in alone.” You heard guns shots and your mind took over. You jumped out of the car hearing your name being called. The door was closed but unlocked and in front of you were the parents, the child not in sight. Next to them was a man holding them at gun point. You knew him, you had interviewed him just days before.  

“Jacob, you don’t have to do this.” You remembered everything about him. His parents had hurt him as a child and he wanted others to feel his pain. It all clicked as you saw him. “Jacob, one way or another you are getting out of here. You decide whether it’s dead or alive.” He pointed his gun at you.  

“You don’t understand. These people don’t deserve their child. They aren’t good people.” You slowly set your gun down.  

“Jacob, lower your gun.” He held his finger on the trigger about to pull it. “Jacob. Let them go. Think about what you are doing to their child? Leaving them without their caretakers, torturing them. Jacob you know what that’s like to not have people that care for you. Don’t do this.” He started to lower his gun but raised it again, pulling the trigger and hitting your arm as Derek tackled him.

You felt someone behind you. “Don’t worry about me. Go help the parents and find the kid.” Derek had put Jacob in cuffs and Spencer was helping the parents. Hotch came up to you. “I’m fine. Really. I can wait we have to go find the kid.” He shook his head.  

“The medics are outside. Let’s go.” He grabbed your other arm so you had to walk with him to get checked out. Lucky for you the bullet had just grazed you arm, it still took some skin but nothing serious. As they finished bandaging you up Spencer came to sit next to you.  

“I’m fine genius. Just grazed my skin.” He still looked concerned.

“Good job. I heard you talking there and uh, just wanted to say you were brave. I shouldn’t have tried to stop you and I’m sorry I was just-” You interrupt him.

“It’s fine. You were probably right but I don’t know. Something just, took over me. I didn’t even realize I was running off. Don’t worry.” He smiles and I squeeze his hand.

On the jet you sat in a chair towards the back where no one else was. You felt someone looking at you only to see Hotch. “Aaron please.” He sits in front of me. “You would have done the same thing. I heard the gun go off and we couldn’t risk waiting. He could have already killed them and gotten ready to do something to the kid. I couldn’t let that happen. I mean, what if he had already killed the kid when we had heard the gunshot? Aaron-” He stops your rambling.

“Good job today. You shouldn’t have gone in without back up, but you saved lives today. I’m more thinking about you and Spencer almost missing the flight. If you two are in a relationship I need to know.” I look at my hands.

“No, we are not in a relationship. We were late because I was hungover and had to get ready in 5 minutes so we could make it in time. I’m sorry it won’t happen again.” He nods and walks away. All you could think about was Spencer. He definitely didn’t like me like that. We are just friends. Right?

[gamerwoo]

Seventeen headcanon: Seventeen as mall workers

a/n: I’ve always lowkey wanted to do some sort of mall series but never actually had a solid plot so we gonna just do this instead. and Pentagon will be mentioned bc I wanna do one for them and I want them all to work in the same mall and no one can stop me 😤

-

Choi Seungcheol

currently works at GameStop

he quit his job at GNC a few months ago because he decided he hates working out

while he hates having to restock things or go into the back for stuff, he at least likes video games

definitely not the dude you want to end up yelling at on the phone

there have been so many times he’s had to give the phone off to Wonwoo or another co-worker because he would definitely lose his job

too high of a temper to work at GameStop tbh

but he knows what he’s talking about, so

has definitely recommended you games even before he worked in there

you’d just happen to be in there when he was and he’d notice you looking between two games and he’d tell you which one was better suited for you after asking what you normally play/what you like

now that he works there, he always puts in his two cents and will give you his discount on top of your own

-

Yoon Jeonghan

the current manager at Starbucks

he used to be the manager at American Eagle but he hated working there because retail sucks

unfortunately, the only other job he could snag was in -- you guessed it -- still retail

but at least he gets yelled at slightly less in Starbucks

and it’s probably only because he makes everyone else do things for him so he doesn’t have to

will take his sweet ass time making a drink

refuses to work the register

would rather stay off toward the back and make the drinks than deal with the people

always says he’s too busy to do things because he’s still training Yanan even though Yanan’s worked there longer than Jeonghan has

he’s also slightly salty at Yanan because he might be the better looking barista

one time he asked you if him or Yanan was cuter and you said him so he gave you your drink for free

refers to you as his “favorite customer”

-

Joshua Hong

works at Guitar Center

between him, Jihoon, and Jinho, he probably knows the least about instruments

pretty much only knows guitar things

but all he does is sit at the counter and play the guitar and sing

you are literally the only person who likes hearing him sing Sunday Morning

Jihoon told him to stop before he smashed the guitar over his head but you were in the store to kill time before your break ended and you said you were enjoying it

so Josh smirked and continued while Jihoon rolled his eyes

“’customer’s always right’ my ass...”

whenever you come in or he sees you walk by he’ll be like “got any requests?”

has offered to give you guitar lessons but you're always busy with work so you say “maybe another time”

but he continues to ask

-

Wen Junhui

works at the pet store downstairs

there hasn’t been a single time you’ve gone in there or walked past there and he wasn’t holding an animal in his arms

loves all the animals

also makes animal noises at the animals but it’s weird because he actually sounds like the animals

notices you come in to play with the animals during your break so now he always tries to get you to bring one home

“it’s not for the business, I just want them to find homes”

once got yelled at for actually getting in one of the puppy pens to play with them

-

Kwon Soonyoung

currently works at Hot Topic

the only reason being that store could not give less of a hell what goes on

he’s been fired from literally every other place at the mall

got fired from Starbucks for drinking too much coffee and shaking so badly all the time that he would spill drinks

fired from Build-A-Bear for exploding a bear with stuffing and making a child cry

fired from Bath & Body Works for dropping candles and spraying perfume in a customer’s mouth on accident

dropped and broke a guitar at Guitar Center

basically his last hope was Hot Topic but if Wooseok can work there and do absolutely nothing, Soonyoung was safe working there

he does attempt to do his job, it’s just that when it comes to basically existing, he’s bad at it

knocks things over, trips on things, is the loudest thing in the store

but he’s friendly and he does his job so who can complain

-

Jeon Wonwoo

the manager at GameStop

the youngest one working there but he’s in charge

usually the one to deal with the shitty customers but Wonwoo is thankfully good at containing his anger

well, at least until he hangs up the phone or the person is gone

goes in the back to yell about it to whoever is back there, even if they’re listening or not

Shinwon and Seungcheol give him a hard time for being the manager and always laugh and go “glad we’re not you!”

but he does love his job because he gets to work with video games

lowkey not very good with the girls who ask him for help though

gets blushy and can’t look them in the eyes

actually he’s really shy with people in general so tbh he’s always somewhat flustered

but he’s always feels happy when he helps someone find a new game or something so he likes his job

he’s usually the one who checks you out at the register and he’s the one who signed you up for a rewards card because you were in there so often

you don’t know this but before the rewards card, he would just give you his discount because you were literally always getting games or stuffed animals or pop figures from there

-

Lee Jihoon

the manager at Guitar Center

again, the youngest at his store, but the one in charge

his assistant manager, Jinho is slightly angry about it

but Jihoon knows everything about everything

any instrument you need fixed or need info on, he’s your guy

he comes off as very serious and not too friendly, but if you make him crack a smile, he suddenly seems super approachable

if he sees you having lunch at the food court when he’s on his break, he joins you sometimes

“you don’t give me a headache”

you assume that’s a compliment

some customers don’t take him seriously because they’re rude and assume he’s “a child”

but of course he schools their asses in his knowledge of instruments, so

sometimes his work is so satisfying lmao

-

Lee Seokmin

works at Bubble Bee

between him and Kino, it’s no wonder they get a lot of business

they’re both so cute and sweet and smiley

there was a short period of time where Soonyoung worked there and tbh those two were a mess

suddenly they only shared one braincell and poor Kino was stuck cleaning up their messes

but Seokmin and Kino work well together

not to mention Seok looks really adorable in the uniforms

always makes really good bubble tea

likes when the straw color matches the color of the drink though

you’ve never spoken to him much but he’s always smiling and cracking jokes and tbh you’re soft for him

-

Kim Mingyu

he was hired at GNC like, a month ago

he used to work at Starbucks but he got fired

because even though he made good coffee, the poor big idiot is clumsy as hell and kept spilling things and dropping things and knocking things over

Hongseok and Matthew knew him sorta so Matthew decided to hire him

he doesn’t really know what he’s doing but it’s fine

Hongseok’s training him while Matthew does most of the work since he’s manager

people started calling them the Big Tiddy Committee which you think is kinda funny

he’s usually in there when you go in to hang out with Hongseok and he’s really sweet

a lil dumb, but sweet

-

Xu Minghao

works at Lush

he originally planned to work at Sephora because he’s good with like, fashion and stuff

but he didn’t feel like dealing with that and Lush seemed less...annoying

he does seem kinda quiet and a little cold at first because he doesn’t really smile a whole lot except when politely greeting someone

but it’s easy to make him laugh

and he has a cute laugh and a really pretty smile

so when you first went in there to get a bath bomb and he asked if you needed help, you were really tempted to just say you were just looking

but you let him help and you got to talking and Minghao was really sweet

sometimes he has lunch with you, too because you just like talking to him

you found out he’s friends with Jun from the pet store and Yanan from Starbucks

it seems like a weird group of friends but hey, you also thought Minghao was a lot colder than he turned out to be

he always texts you when your favorite items are in stock and he may or may not use his discount and set them aside for you to pick up

“cash app me later it’s fine”

-

Boo Seungkwan

works at Sephora

he really wants to do makeovers but he’s not allowed to lmao

mostly just works the register and like lowkey judges everyone’s makeup

he will hype the hell out of you if he thinks you did something well

“your eyeliner is insanely sharp, oh my god”

“your eye shadow is beautiful!”

“that lipstick color looks so good with your skin tone”

has no frickin idea what to do with his discount because he doesn’t wear makeup

you once went in there and asked him for help and he just blinked at you and went “okay, let me find someone who knows what they’re doing”

at least he’s honest

-

Chwe Hansol

works at FYE

makes playlists to play at work in the store

literally just always vibing

the chillest worker in the entire mall tbh

one time he helped his manager, Hui make you a mixtape because you were looking for new music

so then he got interested and started talking to you as well about music

at this point, you’re going to befriend the whole store

looks like he doesn’t do much because he’s usually sitting at the counter and vibing

but he loves helping out customers and picking out music for them or fining things for them

he just loves to help out and talk about music

-

Lee Chan

works at American Eagle

when you see him in those jeans, you get it

he’s like a walking billboard because damn he looks r e a l n i c e

usually working the sales floor so folding and getting things from the back if someone can’t find a size

doesn’t work the register too often

so whenever you go in, he’s usually who greets you at the door with his beautiful smile

honestly he just looks like he should be working at that kind of store y’know? he fits

he doesn’t mind the job even though Jeonghan couldn’t stand it

despite that, he still is human and understand that shit is expensive

and since he recognizes you as a fellow mall worker, he sometimes goes up to the store you work at and let’s you know when they’re having special sales and stuff

[rosmarinys]

touch like a balm

dedicated to @panesars bc she’s lovely and helped me out with this and is also lovely love u dear. also this is a pushing daisies au yes agshsjsjs

"So, I bring can bring back the dead, but I also run a bakery, and I feel like the latter should get more attention, if I'm completely honest."

//

or the one where Ash runs a bakery, Dotty is trying to be the world's greatest private eye by cheating, and Iqra just wants to know what's going on.

read on ao3

chapter one – love like a wound, love like forgiveness

 Ash’s shit day goes like this: Dotty gets her another job, Keegan pesters her about bills, Callum and Bobby break a plate and Iqra dies.

It’s a lot.

//

 “Bills for you,” Keegan greets, leaning against the doorway to his office.

“You know, when I made you the manager, it’s because I didn’t want to deal with any of the managing part of the bakery,” Ash says, tying an apron around her waist. It’s so early in the morning that she doesn’t even want to know the exact time and she can still feel the imprint of her bed beneath her back, and she knows better than to close her eyes for more than a second after the last time she fell asleep standing up, elbow deep in dough.

Keegan snorts. “And yet we are partners, so I need your thoughts on what exactly we need for the next stock.”

Ash sighs but nods and runs their stock through her sleep-riddled mind. “Um, we’re running low on raspberries I’m sure. Strawberries, definitely, we’re down to the last ones today and I’ve been making less strawberry pies because of it. I had to give Dotty a cranberry pie yesterday and she threatened to never come back again.”

Keegan doesn’t look up from the list he’s making but he snorts. “Oh, how grateful we would all be for that. She re-organised all of my files last week, did I tell you?”

Ash chuckles. “No, you didn’t. What exactly did she do?”

Keegan does look up now, pad of paper and pen tucking underneath his arms as he crosses them as a frown flits across his face. “I had everything how I wanted it, everything was filed in terms of likability –”

Ash laughs, pausing in her weighing of flour in order to clap her hands before clasping them over her mouth. “You’re kidding. I thought you were joking when you said you were gonna file everything like that! Keegan!”

Keegan gestures wildly, a reluctant grin stretching his lips. “It works, ok? Or worked. Like, Ian is at the back of my third filing cabinet because he’s a Tory, and I remember that, I remember putting it there and thinking, fuck you. It was a good system!”

Ash giggles, absolutely delighted, and Keegan bites down his bottom lip to try and stop his own laughter. “Ok, ok. So how is organised now that Dotty has ruined everything?”

Keegan rolls his eyes and says with as much venom as he can muster, “Alphabetically.”

Ash laughs louder this time, her head shaking from side to side. “Ridiculous,” she grins. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

“But, that’s not all! She left a note on my desk with a charge for her ‘services’,” Keegan throws his hands up for air quotes, only making Ash giggle harder.

“Well, did you pay her?” Ash asks, picking up her flour again.

There is a pause.

“…Yes,” Keegan grumbles and Ash can’t help chuckling to herself, pulling a bowl of the last strawberries closer. “This is mutinous. You’re showing blatant favouritism to someone outside this partnership. I’m pretty sure I could sue based on that.”

“Oh, shut up,” Ash says and flicks flour at Keegan, watching Keegan duck to dodge getting any stains on his suit, setting her off giggling again.

Keegan turns to go back into his office, after a long death glare which Ash replied with a sarcastic blown kiss, but instead does a full circle to face Ash again. “Oh, meant to say, Chantelle and Gray vow renewals are next week, if you wanna come?”

“Oh, I- I thought that’d be a family event,” Ash replies, carefully, fingers frozen over a rotten berry.

Keegan doesn’t hesitate when he says, “Yes.”

Ash smiles at him. “I’d love to,” she says and watches Keegan smile back at her, his face like the setting sun.

He leaves and Ash touches the berry and watches it turn a glossy red, alive again like the rot had never existed.

 //

 This is how it is: Keegan has known Ash the longest. She remembers purple crayons and standing on stools with flour all over their face and staining their clothes while they watched Karen baked, babbling in a way that only seven-year olds can as Karen listened attentively.

They are all fuzzy memories, as though she is viewing them through rose-coloured glass, but she cherishes them all the same, cradles them in her heart like old relics of times when she felt sturdier on her two feet.

Some memories are clearer: her and Keegan, crouched over dead flies, a swatter in his hand and a stopwatch in her’s, her reaching out and touching one of the bugs and them watching in wonderment as it comes back to life, her finger pressing the stopwatch, timing how long she can do this, how long she can reanimate the dead. A minute later, a dragonfly dropped from the sky in front of them and Ash had turned to Keegan with wide eyes.

“This is-” Keegan said, face bright with child-like wonder, “Ash, you’re like a comic book character!”

She had grinned and they’d both ran inside his house, shouting happily to Karen that they had something cool to show her.

(Later, Karen would sit them both down and make them promise not to say anything about what Ash could do, that this had to be a secret between the three of them, and didn’t all superheroes keep their powers a secret, anyway? Just look at Superman, eh? Even later, Suki would scrub flour from Ash’s skin, and snipe about how she had ruined her clothes, tutting about how Ash couldn’t enjoy a cleaner hobby, like reading, just like she did when she was a girl.

But, for only a moment, there was only pounding feet, a rush of air in their lungs and their hands clasped together.)

 //

 “Got a job for you,” Dotty greets, tossing a folded sheet of paper onto the counter, not an hour after Keegan disappeared back into his office.

“You know, we invented the word ‘hello’,” Ash replies, exasperated with the company she keeps, not looking up from the dough in front of her. It’s sticking to her fingers and she reaches for more flour.

“Hello, I’ve got a job for you,” Dotty deadpans and Ash grins as she starts kneading.

“Bit busy here, what’s the job exactly?” Ash asks, gesturing with her bag of flour to demonstrate her point. Dotty scowls and picks up the sheet of paper.

“Middle-aged man turned up dead in the Thames, shot to death,” Dotty summarises, shoving the paper back into her pocket. Ash whistles and Dotty nods. “Exactly. Drama. And where there’s drama, there’s money.” She grins.

“My condolences to his grieving family of course,” Ash adds, giving Dotty a pointed look.

“Of course,” Dotty parrots. “His grieving, twenty-grand-paying family.” Ash raises her eyebrows, Dotty grins wider. “Drama,” she repeats.

“Well then, sounds eventful. Any witnesses?”

“Nope.”

Ash sighs. “Ah, never is. That’d be too easy, huh?”

Dotty waves a hand in front of her. “We don’t need easy. We have you and you’re – y’know,” she wriggles her fingers, spookily.

“Stop that,” Ash says, considering throwing a berry at her as she starts to fold her dough into a tin. “Also, did you re-arrange Keeagan’s files?”

“Yup,” Dotty replies, popping the ‘p’. “They were a mess and I refuse to let the company I keep be sub-par.”

“Right,” Ash chuckles. “And it has nothing to do with Keegan finding you your perfect office?”

“Yes,” Dotty replies, instantly. “And, also, I made him pay for my organisation, so. It’s not, a thank you or whatever.” Ash hums, unconvinced and Dotty scowls and turns her head to the side, staring at all the cutlery and plates stacked on one of the counters, her face flushing pink.

Ash takes pity on her and changes the subject. Dotty’s shoulders are getting too tense beneath that big woolly jacket she wears, the one that is several sizes too long so that it dwarves her frame, and Ash would rather be able to choose the music on their ride to the morgue. “Well, we can meet once The Pie Hole shuts at six, and head to the morgue, then?”

Dotty frowns and crosses her arms, face still a pale pink but Ash pretends not to notice.. “How come your bakery is more important than my detective business?”

“Because you can solve crimes without me, The Pie Hole can’t bake pies without me.”

“Then that just shows that you have a bad business model, doesn’t it?” Dotty smiles sweetly and Ash flicks some flour at her as well and watches Dotty duck the exact same way as Keegan did.

With a dirty look, Dotty heads towards the entrance. Ash doesn’t ask how Dotty got in considering the front door was locked and it’s five in the morning, simply assuming the answer is something that she can sleep better at night not knowing.

Ash goes back to kneading her dough and thinks about twenty grand and dead men.

 //

  This is how it is: Ash has powers. Well, a power. She can bring the dead back to life. There are rules and Ash spent most of her childhood figuring this out. One touch brings something back to life. Second touch, dead, forever. If someone is brought back for more than a minute, then something else dies, the balance of life and all that.

She uses it often now (in a way that some may view as cheating in the Private Eye business, but Dotty simply views as using the gifts given to you for good, though mostly money) but she remembers trying not to use it during her teenage years. She had felt like a god of death, the balance of deciding who should live and die a heavy weight on her shoulders but then –

(car, Kheerat, glass, bone, blood blood blood.)

there are always exceptions to be made.

 //

 There’s a loud crash in the sitting area and Ash sighs from the kitchen as she pulls a raspberry pie out of the oven.

“Sorry!” Bobby and Callum call and she sees them crouched over what used to be a plate when she comes through with a broom.

“Don’t touch it, you’ll cut yourselves,” Ash says, shooing them away and starts brushing up the mess.

“Sorry, Ash,” Bobby says, eyes wide and sad. “Callum was trying to get up and I bumped into him, you can take it out of my wages –”

“It was just as much my fault, I wasn’t paying attention, I’ll pay for it,” Callum interrupts, reaching for his wallet.

“It’s no one’s fault, it was an accident,” Ash says, gesturing to the now clear floor, the smashed plate all in her dustpan. “See? No harm done.” She can see them physically holding back from insisting again when she raises her eyebrow at them. “Well? Scatter.” She waves her broom at them mock-threateningly and watches Bobby smile weakly and turn to serve another customer whereas Callum lingers for a second. “Something up?”

Callum blinks. “Oh – sorry, it’s nothing, I just –” He sighs and sits back down in his stool at the front counter. Ash circles behind it to put the smashed plate in the bin and braces herself on the counter in front of him. He smiles at her weakly. “I have my job interview today and I’m scared I’m gonna screw it up.”

“Ah,” Ash says, nodding in understanding. “Well, listen, I’ve never met someone more qualified to be a paramedic, ok? So, just, deep breaths and trust yourself.”

Callum smiles at her. “Thanks, Ash. You’re a good friend.”

Ash smiles in return. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just speaking the truth, here. Also, you’ve saved me more than once. Nutmeg in my rhubarb pies? You really saved me with that.”

Callum chuckles bashfully and it’s a warm sound. “I-Well, it’s nothing. My mother, she-she made them like that.” He turns his head to the side, his fingers tapping restlessly on the counter.

“Well, she was a smart woman,” Ash says, expression soft when Callum glances over at her.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Yeah, she was.” They stay there, quietly, for a moment then he smiles at her again just before he leaves and when she looks down, she sees he’s left a five pound note on the counter, doubtless for the broken plate.

Ash smiles as she picks it up, already planning on giving Callum his next slice of pie for free.

 //

 This is how it is: Callum is a regular at The Pie Hole, his smile a constant companion to Ash whenever she places her pies in their display shelves, ready to be served.

He always orders a slice of apple pie and never leaves a tip less than three pounds, sometimes he leaves behind a napkin with a doodle on them of a dog on a skateboard and blushed down his neck when she’d asked about it, revealing that the dog was the main character in a comic he had made for his nephew.

(Ash had once forgotten her apron at The Pie Hole, and when she’d returned to get it in the small hours of the morning, she’d found Callum sat outside in the rain, his clothes soaked to his skin, clutching a baby’s blanket in his hands.

He’d stared at her blankly when she tried to speak to him but he went willingly when she dragged him into her bakery and sat him in a booth. She’d forced his hands around a warm cup of coffee in order to warm them up, but his grip was lax and so they sat with her hands cupped around his.

His skin had felt like ice and he only spoke once to murmur his nephew’s name before falling silent again and Ash had felt her heart in her chest splinter.

What was the point of having this power if she can’t save her friends from grief?

Callum doesn’t draw on the napkins anymore but he leaves bigger tips.)

  //

 The man on the table is dead, purple bruises stark against the placid white his skin has become. There are multiple holes in his chest. Ash checks the tag around his toe to avoid looking inside his grotesque wounds. Jack Branning, it reads. The name sounds familiar, but Ash can’t quite remember why. A horrid thought occurs to her, one where she might have once served this man at her bakery, might have known him when he was alive and now all she will remember is how he looked dead. It leaves goosepimples on her arms, even underneath her denim jacket.

“Well, let’s get this show on the road, yeah?” Dotty says, folding her arms in front of her chest. There has been a time in which Dotty would have made comments and digs at the victims’ wounds but even she has tired of it, especially after one of the victims had been a girl who revealed she’d been stabbed to death by her father, something that had left her looking as white as the corpses surrounding them.

Ash glances at her watch and waits for hand to reach twelve before tapping Jack lightly on the shoulder. The result is immediate; Jack shoots up and stares at them in shock, eyes blinking too quickly and chest heaving with breaths he doesn’t need. He opens his mouth to speak, and no noise comes out, his hands reaching up for his throat, fingers pressing into the purple left on his skin.

Dotty groans. “Great, now we need to play twenty questions.” Ash can hear her rolling her eyes without having to turn around. This happens too often, sometimes the victim’s windpipe is so damaged that they can’t speak properly. Once, Dotty left after three cases in a row with strangulation involved and Ash heard her groaning and moaning the entire time it took her to leave the building.

“Was it a man or a woman?” Jack stares at her blankly, so Ash tries again. “Mr Branning, you were murdered. Was it a man or a woman who killed you?” He doesn’t answer, instead looking around the room, at all the other closed cases in the morgue. She wonders how jarring this must be for someone, she wonders if there actually is an after-life or if it feels like a second has passed between shutting your eyes and opening them again to two women making weird requests. This is not the time to think about such things though, so she tries a different question. “Jack? Where they young or older?”

He turns back and starts gesturing with his hands, miming writing something down. Ash hears Dotty scramble for her notebook and pen while Ash feels the clock tick tick ticking. There is one second left until the hand hits twelve again when Ash taps Jack on the shoulder again, his body collapsing into the table he’s on, his fingers bent over the notebook he’d scribbled onto.

“Well, let’s hope this is good, considering we’ve got fuck all else out of him,” Dotty mutters and reaches forward. Ash sees what’s written when Dotty brushes Jack’s fingers asides and takes her pen and notebook back.

One word. Mitchell.

 //

 This is how it is: Dotty is more wolf than girl, dressed in plaid pinafores or ripped jeans, always with that dark woolly coat thrown on, so big that you can only see the tips of her fingers poking out the sleeves. She kicks her feet lightly when she’s sitting down and bites her nails down to the quick and spins a thin ring around her pointer finger, all while grinning with teeth.

Dotty caught Ash one day, having just brought a stray cat back to life, and showed up at the front door of The Pie Hole the next morning with a glint in her eyes and a business proposition.

“Can you bring back people too?” She’d asked and Ash had only nodded. Her smile grew wider. “Well, I was just thinking about how much easier it would be to solve murders if the victims could up and sing, huh?”

(They’re a good team, Ash thinks. Dotty’s a neon light in your veins, a fast-paced race-track that stills beneath Ash’s fingers when she touches her, like a live-wire finally finding a fuse.

Dotty looks at her like that sometimes, when Ash calls her a friend, as if she’s just woken up, like she’s been dead this whole time and Ash brought her back with a simple word.

She falls asleep on Ash’s couch sometimes, drowning in that big coat, finger’s twitching on that ring, face soft with sleep.

Ash pulls her duvet into the living room and sleeps on the rug next to her, seized with the urge to not let Dotty be alone, even in her sleep.

Dotty’s never said anything about it, but she always lets Ash borrow her eyeliner the next day.)

 //

 The rain makes her skin feel numb, even under her clothes as they become soaked and stick to her. Ash wonders briefly if this is how Callum had felt, feeling out of his body, The Pie Hole sign a beacon glaring through the noise.

(It had been an inside joke, you know. The Pie Hole. Keegan had whispered it as a joke when they were ten and Ash had proposed they run a bakery like the one she had seen on holiday once, both of them curled up in sleeping bags on his living room floor.

It feels like a million years ago, memories of sliding around in socks and running down streets till the soles of her feet felt fuzzy, her lungs too big for her body.)

She’s not sure how much time passes, leaning up against the building across the road from her bakery, thinking about Keegan, and her mother, and bakeries, when –

there is a blare of light that illuminates a figure on the street, a silhouette, before a car crashes into it and the scream of the tires is so awful that Ash thinks she’s in the car herself (car, Kheerat, glass, bone, blood blood blood.)

She stays frozen before she throws herself forward on autopilot, barely processing that the car has sped away and left the silhouette on the road, folded in on itself, purely running on the sharp pain in her temples, the blood in her mouth, power buzzing beneath her skin, whispering you were born for this.

Ash turns them over and sees their face, blood trickling down the side of their head and coating their dark hair. She barely manages a gasp before her fingers touch the side of their face and sees their eyes snap open.

 //

 This is how it is: Iqra Ahmed, on her way home from work, crosses the road without looking up from a text from her sister, and gets hit by a car and dies on impact.

This is how it is: Iqra Ahmed wakes up a minute later, chest heaving and staring up at a blurry face that’s there and then gone. There is blood in her mouth and her bones feel like dust.

This is how it is: Ash Panesar is so fucking tired.

[adam-is-suffering]

Homestuck Day 7 ------ part 3

God I’m making a counter for all the times I’m going to say “wtf” in this comic because so far, it’s at least 5, which doesn’t sound like a lot but things just went to okay I can understand this to legitimate confusion over the types of machinery around the house. 

And I doubt a simple ask on the discord will help me understand because they’ll probably say “yeah this device was made by charlie sheen, and its used to buy off organs in the Homestuck black market” because I know them well enough that they’d give me bs answers like that

Rose I hate you. WHATS THE LATHE?? IS IT THE HUMAN TORTURE DEVICE? WHAT DOES IT DO? I DONT CARE IF IT DOESNT NEED MONEY TO BUY, I WANT TO KNOW WHAT IT DOES INSTEAD

And the only way to get more money is selling things on the black market, John, so get your shit together, its gonna be a brutal adventure.

The mailman actually stole the game and wants to play, thats the only possibility here. That or Dad did it. Maybe this is why John hates his dad.

Wait DOES John have daddy issues? Was I right about that? Like will that come up in the future?? 

I’m pretty sure Rose will be the only character in the game who genuinely tries to help out the player and sort out this lathe shit because from all the other characters I’ve seen, there’s no way they’re not going to pass up destroying their friends’ rooms because they’ll have The Power

John enters the room he didn’t want us to see at the beginning of the comic, which is where he finds his own father mid-game with the last Sburb copy. Dad stutters “John this is not what it looks like” and thats why John has daddy issues.

Nevermind, John’s having a flashback and we’re seeing the game in the car. Wow. Thats just.. so boring.

Give me drama, Andrew Hussie. 

John, thats not what she asked.

:/

Not happy, but its 2009 and shit was crazy back in those day with them internet slurs.

This is my favourite out of context Homestuck quote by far. 

HAHA EVEN BETTER! JOHN UNDERSTANDS, WHAT A GUY

If I was Mack, I would say “And I think you are elegant” but I’m not so I’m just going to say “k”.

K.

Suspicious... It fits perfectly. I am now squinting my eyes. 

I feel like dad will think he’s tripping on acid when he get home, and if you don’t believe me, his fucking son’s bedroom looks like it was broken into, there’s machinery all around his house thats blocking doors and overall taking up the  whole room, John’s bedroom suddenly expanded tenfold and all the man wanted to do was get some groceries to bake. 

Oh this is cute. I have been swooned. By all of them.

“pl elab on ‘incident’” The abbreviations??? 2busy4this, I’m kinda in love with you

And grayslacks66 asking which tie he should use??? UGH

wellPressedAtire??? GIVING US DAD TIPS ABOUT PENS?? <33333!!!!!!

(I almost wrote dad tops and I felt the life drain outta me for a second there)

Anyways, this has been “adam swoons easily by random dad strangers that show the slightest hint of being obliviously cute” segment of the show. More at 10.

Listen, I like anime John, but you don’t see me flaunting it around. Sometimes you gotta keep you weebness hidden because as much as you call others weeb, you will always be the weebest of them all. That’s my philosophy. And also my internal repressed struggle.

Anyways, what? Weebs in this neighbourhood? Lmfao die u whores

DOES JOHN THINK DAD’S IN THE CIRCUS OR SOMETHING LMFAO??????

Man lol, that explains a lot but just bc he has harlequins doesn’t mean he is one, John.