#do i wear those? or would i look overdressed? but jeans feel too casual and aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh

[transgeirmder]

okay so the person who i normally go to to read over my emails (anxiety) i can’t go to for this, so bare with me please

Hi [Name],

My name is [Fern] and I had some questions about services that I don’t know if you would be able to answer. I am not a member and I am not Jewish. However I am interested in learning more about Judaism and am wondering if I could attend a morning Shabbat service. If not, that is completely understandable. Thank you so much!

[Fern]

is this okay? i feel like i should kinda lay everything out to begin with. but i don’t want to come across as too much or as being idk suspicious or threatening(??)

[ch0k3herwithaseaview]

@jegulus-microfic | feb 29 address | words 1881

hi, so this one is so fucking long, i don’t even know how it happened. anyways, hope you’ll enjoy it :3

first part | previous part

Reg

So

Will you be there tonight?

James looked at the message he received almost half an hour ago and for the hundredth time deleted his response.

‘Of course I’ll be there’ sounded too eager. ‘Yeah’ was out of question with it being too dry. ‘I’ll try to make it’ was just mean, like when you have a big event at school and your parents say that exact line, and you just feel like shit. So he sat there, on his couch, contemplating how to answer the man he apparently fancies. He thought the crush went away with them going separate ways after school, but oh well. With just one dinner, all the feelings came back, making him feel like a teenager again.

He deleted another answer when Regulus texted him again.

Reg

You know I can see you typing then changing your mind over and over again, right?

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was his chance to keep this from getting any weirder.

James

yeah i know sorry about that

and answering the first question yes ill be there

:)

With that, he threw his phone as far away from himself as he could and went to have a crisis while taking a shower. And don’t get him wrong - he really wanted to be there, to see the art Regulus makes, but at the same time he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. He liked Reg, he wanted to get to know him again after all those years they haven’t talked. And yet, he was still afraid he would fuck it up somehow.

“No you won’t” he said to his reflection in the mirror. “You won’t, just pull yourself together. And don’t act weird, just… be who you are. If he doesn’t like it, back off.”

After that little motivational talk, James started to get ready properly. He did his skincare routine, tried to (and failed) tame the nest on his head, also known as hair, and went to the closet to find something suitable for the occasion. How does one even dress for opening?

Having no better option, James decided to do the most stupid thing he could do.

“What are you wearing tonight?” he asked without any greeting. On the other side he heard the most feral laughter ever and just groaned at it. “It’s not funny, I really don’t know!” the laughter became even more hysterical, so James just stood in the middle of his closet, waiting for Sirius to calm down.

“Oh god, this is too good” his best friend chuckled a little breathlessly. “Are you trying to impress my brother or what?”

“I’m not trying to impress anyone, I just… what should I wear? To not look like an idiot?” more giggles from Sirius.

“Yeah, well, me and Moony are going in our usual clothes, so maybe something in between?”

“You mean I should go as a slutty grandpa?” James grumbled. His bestie just barked another laugh at that.

“Yes, exactly! Hope I helped, gotta go, see you there” and the call ended.

It actually did help, to his surprise. He put on a maroon turtleneck, paired it with suit trousers and his favourite red converse. The entire outfit, although simple, seemed to emphasise his muscles, giving the exact result James was aiming for. He put three golden hoops in his ear and finally felt ready.

Grabbing the phone from the armchair it landed on, James check if Regulus sent any new messages - he did.

Reg

I’m glad.

Don’t overdress, it’s a casual event, nothing fancy.

Do you know where to go?

Should I send you the address?

?

Hello?

Are you alive?

James, it’s been more than an hour, are you alright?

James smiled at all of this, quickly replying with ‘yes everythings good the shower took longer than it should pls send the address’.

***

He arrived at a small local art gallery, where the opening took place. As soon as James got out of his car, Remus and Sirius spotted him, practically running in his direction. The shorter man, dressed in a silk shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and tight jeans (all black, of course), jumped into his arms, screaming excitedly, like he hasn’t seen him in a while (since yesterday). From behind, Sirius’ fiancé rolled his eyes, smirking at their antics.

“Fancy seeing you here, Prongs” Remus said cheekily, when the long-haired man came to his side. It was James’ turn to roll his eyes.

“Are we coming in or are we just gonna stand here and freeze?” Sirius asked, snuggling closer to Remus.

“You should’ve dressed accordingly to the weather. I’m feeling petty so - Moony, would you mind giving me a fag?” James chirped sweetly, batting his lashes at the taller man.

He didn’t give him the cigarette, what’s with his shivering partner, so they just walked in to the gallery.

James spotted Regulus immediately. He was wearing a dark green sweater with a white collar sticking out from under it, black trousers and low Docs. He looked innocent and hot at the same time. He could see the younger man noticing him, too, when his lips turned into a little smile.

“Hi, Little Star” Reg snorted at that, and that was all he had to do to get himself a wide grin from James.

“Hello, James. Thank you for coming” came the slightly amused answer. They scanned each other for a second. From up close Regulus looked even better, James thought.

“You look good, I mean, like, very good” Reg chuckled softly at that and the other man melted a little.

“You look good, too” younger man replied, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

Their moment was interrupted by Sirius barging in, saying how proud of his little brother he is, while ruffling Reg’s hair. Even though he didn’t like it, Regulus hasn’t voiced his displeasure. It was nice of him, really.

Not long after, some professor welcomed everyone from the middle of the room, talking about all the hard work his students put into this exhibition and how glad he was to see so many people coming to appreciate that work. Some ovations. Then they were free to admire the pieces. Most of them were paintings, but there were also sculptures and some photographs.

The theme of the exhibition was ‘love’, so the students presented how they perceived it - some in a cute way, whit elderly couples sitting on a bench or some places they loved, but there were also darker ones, presenting the topic as suffocating or painful. James felt sorry for all those people who suffered because of something that should have been beautiful.

When they finally reached Regulus’ pieces James felt something warm crawling inside his chest. He didn’t immediately understand them, since Reg created abstract art, but the longer he looked the more he could see. On the first one there were spots of paint that must’ve been two cuddled figures in the dark place, surrounded by a little light, just around them, like a halo. James thought it must represent how Regulus felt about his brother, what was confirmed as he spotted Sirius’ eyes glistening in the bright lights of the gallery.

The second one was brighter, like it was some kind of meadow maybe? There also were smudges of paint in different colours - some of them lighter others darker. Those probably were Regulus’ friends and James had an urge to comment on that one.

“That’s so cute. They must’ve loved it so much” he said, looking down at Regulus. “Where are they, by the way?”

“They will come later, when there’s not so many people so we can really discuss others works” the younger man replied simply. “We’ll probably just end up laughing at them, really” he added with a shrug.

At that James pretend to be outraged, gasping and putting a hand to his chest.

“Oh! Am I not worthy of laughing at other people’s art with you? Tell me how can I be granted this privilege, I’ll do anything!” He kept up his act, grabbing Regulus by the shoulders, bending his knees like a sufferer begging for water.

The younger of Black brother looked at him, trying real hard to not look amused, but his eyes were giving him away.

“You’re pathetic” he said, not even a little bite to it. To be honest he sounded a little like he was enjoying James’ antics.

“Yet, you like me so much you managed to rob your own brother of my number” James said it like he was plotting something. “And you wanted to rob me of my time, the audacity.”

“Please stop” the shorter man buried his face in his hands. “Don’t mention it ever again” he added, a little muffled by the hands. He had really nice hands, James noticed.

“Oh, I will not stop till the day I die.”

They moved to the third piece and- oh. James might not be the brightest person alive, but he knew what was on the last painting. It was similar to the other two they saw earlier, smudges of paint in different shades creating two figures. The figures were hugging, not like the first ones, but more like lovers trying to become one. One person was rather pale, contrasting with the other who looked tanned. Their hair was black and deep brown, respectively.

James looked at it with awe, felt the butterflies waking up in his stomach and flying freely all over his body. He looked at Regulus, but the other man hasn’t met his eyes, staring straight ahead at his work. James noticed he turned a pretty shade of reddish pink on every bit of his face. His own lips turned into a big fucking grin. He wanted to reach out, touch Regulus, hug him, anything really.

Unfortunately, from behind him came Sirius’ gasp and then excited “Oh my god, Reggie, you painted me and Moony? Oh, that is so lovely, can I have it later?”

James, Remus and Regulus looked at the man at the same time, each one with a deep frown, not believing how delusional Sirius is. As if they shared a brain cell, all three of them nodded in agreement to not lead him astray.

Regulus cleared his throat, and turning to his brother he said “Yes, that’s you and Remus, and no, you cannot take it.”

As the older turned to stare daggers at the younger, they just started bickering about who should have the painting, Remus and James looking at them with amusement.

After some time Regulus’ friends came and the three older man ushered to exit so the younger guys could have fun together. Just before they left, James approached Regulus one last time, cheeky smile on his lips.

“Sirius and Moony, huh?” it earned him an eye roll and a sheepish ‘shut up’. He just smiled wider and leaned down to whisper in Reg’s ear, feeling the black-haired man’s breath hitching “Text me when you get home.”

With that he walked backwards in the general direction of the exit, still looking at Regulus who looked positively stunned. James winked at him and Reg, after waking from the haze, flipped him off. James just chuckled at that loudly, turning to the door.

[nyeddleblog]

It's Always the Quiet Ones. [Part 2]

Pairing: Andrew! Peter Parker x Fem!Reader.

Warnings: no smut yet, lots of fluff though.

Summary: Peter was surprisingly sweet, and much much more.

PREVIOUS PART. FINAL PART.

Of course he won the bet, but in your defense the fatigue of not having a breakfast made you weaker. You couldn't even finish the cheeseburger, and had to bring the left overs home.

So there you were, in front of your mirror, on your underwear; half of your apartment undone from the moving, indecisive on what to wear. This was your first date, or was it a date? It was kind of a date.

Worst was, you didn't even know where he was taking you, or if you would enjoy it. All you knew was that he was kinda too appealing yesterday, and that you had impulsively agreed to something you never did. You were too prideful to call him and tell him no.

Was this a dress situation? It was kinda cold outside... Maybe if you tried that layering technique it would make it look more casual... Or maybe some jeans and a sweater would do just fine...?

There was a knock on your door. You inhaled, horrified.

Between the things you left on top of your bed was a crochet dress; didn't really scream 'casual' but it would take you three seconds to put it on and it would cover all the essential parts.

"I'm coming!" you yelled, realizing that if you slid those uggs on your feet it wouldn't look like you had been deciding what to wear for the last hour. "Just a sec!"

You accommodated the end of your dress, took the coat resting on your couch, put the keys, the wallet and the phone inside the small purse hanging on your door and you opened it.

"Hi..." you greeted, overly excited.

Behind a bouquet of flowers, his face was smiling. He noticed your hair was still wet, and a pair of pants was thrown over the tv just behind you, but he chose not to tease you about it.

"Shall we go, then?" he asked, offering you his arm and the bouquet.

"That would be nice" you agreed "But I should put these orchids on some water first."

"They're orchids?"

"Yup, my mom used to have them in her garden." You casually explained, and just to add something else, you said: "Did you know they were given in ancient Greece to show virility?"

Peter raised his eyebrows, you blushed, cringing, and taking out the biggest glass you owned to pour some water in it.

He chose to enter, feeling awkward standing on the doorway.

"I-They were the only ones the lady had... I asked for roses but..."

"I'm not that fond to roses, once I fell into a rosebush and got thorns stuck all over. It was awful..." you turned around, seeing that face on him then again. He stared at you in some kind of disbelief "I'm sorry, am I talking to much? I'm... I'm nervous."

He licked his lips, shrugging. "I think it's cute"

You blinked once, twice, looked down and gripped the bouquet now inside the glass of water "You weren't this much of a flirt in high school."

"I didn't meet that many pretty girls in high school."

"You met me."

And for once you looked up to his face. It was brief, a tiny fragment of a second that was enough for realization. You liked him, didn't you? You used to have a crush on him and that was why you accepted working with him every single school project. For him, everything made sense now.

"Okay then, let's go." you shyly spoke, walking to the door. He followed right behind you, smiling more every second that passed by "Where are we going, by the way?"

"Oh, nowhere specific. I just wanted us to have a nice evening together"

"Oh, then I'm definitely overdressed" You turned around to look at him, anxious "Aren't I?"

"I don't think so, you look amazing."

A warm feeling arose on your chest, to which you gently looked down and breathed in. He could hear your heartbeat raising, though. He could almost touch the butterflies.

"What do you like to do on dates, my dearest Y/N?" Peter asked, playfully taking your hand to spin you around once in the street "Watch movies? Dine somewhere...?"

"I... Don't really go on dates" you explained carefully, not wanting him to think low of you "I had a boyfriend during summer though, but we didn't really go out. We videocalled, mostly."

You thought he'd gasp and inquire, but he looked almost as if he knew about this already.

"What do you like to do on dates, Peter?" it was your turn to ask, infected with that playfulness of his.

"Well, I haven't had that much luck with the ladies" he answered, shrugging "But I'd love to stargaze..."

"If only we weren't in New York." you sympathized. He nodded, accomplice. "Good thing I know a similar option, but instead of looking up... We look down."

He never let go of your hand. You realized now that you wanted to take his; it was already in yours. He probably held your hand when he spun you around and then chose to not let it go.

That made your heart get out of your ribcage and come back in.

So you held it tight, and quickly walked to that one place you knew since you were little.

It wasn't close, but the walk—accompanied by Peter's fun anecdotes—was more than welcomed to your date.

Your body language became a traitor to the way you tried to keep your composure. You quickly quieted your laughs, yet your thumb had been caressing his hand the last fifteen minutes. You kept your compliments safe inside your mind, yet you smiled every time he threw a joke, and it didn't matter how bad it was.

You avoided eye contact, yet your body had been so close to his this whole time he just wanted to push you into the nearest empty place you encountered and make sure you knew how good he could make you feel.

And after going up a fire escape, you had finally arrived.

"This is it."

He hadn't been there before, but he understood what you meant immediately. Being Spiderman, he had met many places that looked like this; and from there, looking down into the city it was as if seeing a night sky, only that the number of stars were multiplied by a million.

"It looks better during Christmas, though. But this is a really busy street, so it doesn't matter the hour, you can always catch the lights."

He definitely had seen better views, taller buildings. He knew how magical the lights of the cars and the streets could look once you had finally reached a quiet place in New York City; but there was something about this moment that made him cherish it.

This was your place, this was personal; this was an experience close to the one he wanted to have, and you wanted to share it with him.

"It's beautiful" he said, but he didn't mean the crowded view.

And you nodded, lacking words.

He admired you, looking so impressed by the immensity of the city that had been there, around you, ever since you were born.

"I guess it's always the quiet ones..." he started to say, giving a few steps closer to you. You quirked a brow "You know, the ones with the better stories."

"I'm definitely not quiet" you laughed.

"Compared to me you are" he whispered, a smile on his face that hadn't been erased ever since you left your apartment "But you do these kind of things where you tell me so many things..."

"Like telling you the greek rituals for fragile masculinity...?"

"No...!" he laughed "Like when you bring me to the most mundane place because you want me to see the stars and we're in the middle of New York, so all you can show me is a city that should have bored you by now, but through your eyes" And the milisecond he took to lick his lips and stare into yours was enough to let you know he wasn't returning home tonight "...Through your eyes is the most spectacular thing you've ever seen."

"Your choice of words it's pretty lame" you mocked him, making him snort "But the sentiment counts, that was really nice."

The look he gave you could mean a million things, but you didn't have enough time to analyze it because doing it meant getting nervous, and you were having such a lovely night that all you wanted was sit there and enjoy.

And that's how he softly got behind you, surrounded your shoulders with his arms and rested his head on top of yours.

A/N: I promise the next part will contain the smut, I just wanted to make the tension a little bit stronger. Please don't kill me.

TAGLIST: @itssvphia @swaggysposts @allisonxmcu @elarasstardust @lartdestrouvailles @crying-is-your-latest-fashion @mrsbarnes107th @pastel-painted-sunrise @allisonxmcu @endlesssummerfun @glytchfic @apoloslut @ceyoongs @yunho-leeknow @starfirette @messagesinthesky @jessyballet

@gothic-uwu @21st-century-daydreamer

[coeurdastronaute]

Nerd 14

Previously on Nerd

There weren’t many things considered as decorations in the house on the corner of Inglewood Street. The old stone house, with its black shutters and manicured lawn hid behind a stately oak and the polished Porsche in the driveway, glowed as a beacon in the neighborhood, of perfection and wealthy modesty. Inside, it was less populated than one might expect, never fully lived-in, at least not to the casual observer. 

Clarke moved her way down the stairs as she balanced the bag on her shoulder, fully prepared for work and then studying with her girlfriend on a fairly boring Saturday night. For the first time in a long time, she looked at the sparse frames of pictures of her family. 

Unsure of what made her pause, she furrowed, pushing her eyebrows tightly together and leaning into the image of her mother and father on a random date when they were together in college. They were carefree and at some bar trivia night. Abby hugged Jake’s bicep and nearly hid in his shoulder as he leaned forward, other arm lifted to interject an answer. He was smiling wide despite his eagerness, the flash ricocheting off part of his large glasses. His hair was floppy and fully, swept to the side and neatly arranged, while Abby was brimming with life. Clarke loved the candid picture because sometimes she looked at it, and these were two people who had entire lives and experiences and she forgot that. They probably got butterflies like she did when Lexa smiled at her. They probably spent hours excitedly waiting to see the other. 

In that picture, her mother wasn’t the person she was now, though both seemed insanely far away from Clarke. This college-aged person was alive, vibrant, in-love, awake, eager, and not cheating on her husband. The body language alone showed how much she adored him. 

In that picture, her father was the funny, charming man she remembered, not the angry, frustrated man who was skin and bones, who couldn’t eat, who couldn’t swallow, who had difficulties moving most days and remembering his own daughter others. He was alive as well. He was the man everyone wanted to sit beside for some reason, for som inexplicable reason he had this… he had a spark that drew those to him like a moth to a flame, except he was that flame, and he shared his light eagerly with those around him. 

Clarke relaxed her face after a few moments of looking and seeing and trying to find some kind of detail in that picture that would indicate that the couple in it would know what their life would like like two decades later. There wasn’t a single indication, and that terrified her. 

“Did you finish you math?” her mother’s voice called from the hallway, hearing her daughter shift and move to look at the next picture without seeing her first. 

“Yes.” 

The next image was a very tiny Clarke on her father’s shoulders and her mother hugging his waist as they all stood beneath a redwood tree. They had hiking gear, shorts, sunglasses, hats and sunscreen. They were all smiling. They were a family. 

“Did you email me that draft of your personal essay for applications?” 

Clarke gave up perusing, no longer feeling the yearn for that family unit that was far away. She rolled her eyes and stomped her way down the steps to find her mother sorting through envelopes and mail. 

“No.” 

“Why not?” Abby didn’t look up as she flipped.

“Because I’m a junior, and I have five months before applications are due.”

“That’s no excuse not to be prepared. Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time chasing after some gir--”

“Who am I chasing after?” Clarke scoffed, crossing her arms and peering at her mother. “Do you mean helping Lexa on her submission for film school? Do you mean tennis practice? Do you mean working part time? Do you mean having a social life?” 

“Considerate that you can help someone else get into college.” 

“It’s going to take her months to edit, which I can’t-- I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

That did it. Clarke knew it would. Clarke new an overt expression of her own independence would trigger her mother. She knew arguing and not appearing to care about college would give her the satisfaction of a righteous fight. She wanted it. It’d been brewing for about a week and a half, ever since Clarke said she was going prom dress shopping without her. Ever since Clark forgot to tell her about spending the night camping with Lexa and the film crew while the powered through the project. Ever since Clarke didn't’ come home for dinner last Tuesday and then raved about Mrs. Woods’ garlic chicken. Tiny things Clarke did with spite because she didn’t know what else to do, because she couldn’t do anything else. 

Abby’s nostrils flared and Clarke jutted her hip, shrugging to herself as she dug for her phone, ready to go to work and escape the house and the persistent smell of medical equipment and cleaner that haunted her until she was about two blocks from the house. 

“I’ll be home around midnight.” 

“Like hell you will. You’ll be home right after your shift.” 

“No,” Clarke paused as she turned to leave. “I’m going over Lexa’s to study. We’re watching a Cary Grant movie.” 

“You’re under the misconception that you get to make your own schedule and plans without asking permission. But that is not the case, Clarke.” 

“I’ve been doing fine.” 

“You’ve barely been home. Your father is--”

“Right there, in that room, asleep. I know this because I spent the morning with him. We made pancakes and played a game of cribbage. We talked about school and Lexa and I showed him pictures of the past week of my life. And I helped him with his meds because he’s having a bit of a flare. I told him I’d see him in the morning for omelettes because we’ve been watching cooking shows together and he wants to try the french style. I know exactly what is going on with my father.” 

She hadn’t meant to, but her voice began to raise as she spoke. Clarke felt her fist shake. She felt her muscles tighten and her jaw clench. She was okay with being considered lazy and unmotivated, but to be accused of negligence was uncalled for, especially from someone like her mother. 

“Don’t you raise your voice! You are greatly mistaken as to the nature of our relationship. I am your mother, and I am sick of your attitude, and your priorities not being your father and your family or your education.” 

“Lexa has nothing to do with any of that. Are you just mad I’m dating a girl? Or that I don’t care what you think anymore?” 

Slightly taken aback by her daughter, by her words, by her actions, by her entire demeanor over the past few months and frankly just sick of dealing with being the bad guy. 

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” Abby shook her head. 

“I could say the same thing.” 

The two stared at each other before Clarke shook her head and adjusted her bag. She toyed with her keys in her pockets before checking her phone again. 

“I’m going to be late for work. I’ll be back tonight.” 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Abby insisted again. “You’re grounded indefinitely.” 

“Except I’m not,” Clarke sighed and shook her head. “I’m not because I don’t care anymore. I genuinely don’t.”

“You’re going to. Give me your keys and your phone.” 

“No.” 

“I’m not joking, Clarke. You’re going to need to readjust your priorities and attitude.”

“I think you should take your own advice,” Clarke insisted as she reached the front door. “Or are you too busy fucking Kane to realize that there is no more family here?” 

With a satisfying slam, she yanked the door shut. The anger that was stationed in her shoulders dissipated with the noise and movement. Clarke stood there in the quiet of her perfect neighborhood, the flapping of the flag lazily moving in the spring breeze was all she heard at first. Then the birds came. Then a lawnmower started in the distance. 

Clarke felt lighter than she’d felt in a long time. She also felt emptier than any other time in her life. It was officially the end, and now she had to deal with that because the anger and the hurt and the betrayal was all she’d had in her for what felt like months. It hadn’t made anything better, and it certainly ruined everything, but Clarke took some solace in the fact that now she could try to fill herself up with something else. 

XXXXXXXXXX

The party at Bellamy Blake’s house was in full swing by the time Lexa made her way up the winding driveway and into the belly of the beast. She wasn’t sure how she ended up there exactly, except that her girlfriend texted and said to show up. That seemed to be enough of a reason, though Lexa wasn’t particularly prepared. They’d had plans. Quiet plans. Private plans. Movie plans. 

And now Lexa was going to her girlfriend’s ex’s party. 

She shoved her hands in her pockets as she moved through the crowd, clearly not getting the memo that jeans were not entirely good enough attire, and in fact she seemed to be extremely overdressed. Her eyes bugged slightly as she watched a girl from her physics class walk by in a very tiny, very teeny lime green bikini. Lexa became suddenly aware of the appeal of such things, as if she hadn’t noticed them before, but then MIchelle who sat diagonally in front of her third period looked like that and she gulped. 

The music thumped loudly. The beats were rattling the walls and shaking the windows while the screams and giggles of her classmates sought to shatter glass. It wasn’t like the other parties she’d been to with Clarke. It wasn’t even like thrones Anya dragged her to when she visited. This was a night of debauchery and she hadn’t had time to prepare. 

And as much as she saw everyone else wearing bikinis, she hadn’t thought about Clarke wearing one. She’d seen Clarke’s boobs before. That was nice. But there was something to her girlfriend in a bikini that was… good. Very good, even. 

Lexa pushed her glasses up slightly on her nose and stared. 

“What are you doing here?” Gus asked, approaching quietly. She didn’t move or say anything else, just stared from across the pool, the steam billowing upward to ward the sky while everyone seemed to glow blue and green and red, the lights alternating around them, the flames of the fire pits dancing to keep everyone warm. The warm glow of the lights inside were lost on the white-blue shade to the water. 

“Lexa, focus,” he snapped his fingers in front of her face. “What are you doing here? Your sister would kill me if she knew you were at a Blake party.” 

“How is it different than any other party?” 

“It just is.” 

“Because of the pool? I’ve been to pool parties.” 

It hadn’t been since seventh grade and didn’t look like an episode of a CW show, but still, she’d been to a pool party with many of the same cast of characters that were currently on display. It was before puberty, but still. 

“We need to get you home.” 

“Clarke invited me.” 

“It doesn’t matter. This isn’t your scene.” 

“I can be in any scene. I’ve watched every John Hughes movie.”

“This is more of an episode of Euphoria than an 80s teen flick,” Gus sighed and took another swig from his cup. “And I fully believe you would fit in fine with Molly Ringwald.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Lexa nodded. “I’ll be fine.” 

She took her eyes off of her girlfriend long enough to assure her friend that she was perfectly fine now. She was dating the head cheerleader. She’d been to parties and seen--

“Gus-- is that cocaine?” 

“Okay, yeah, we have to get you out of here,” he shook his head and tossed his empty cup into a flowerbed. 

“Is it really?” she asked, craning her neck as he pushed her forward. “I’ve never see that in real life before. People actually do that thing with the credit cards and dollar bills? Astounding. Where does one get cocaine?” 

“You don’t need to know that.” 

“I’m not going to do it. I’m just curious.” 

They only made it a few steps before the ran into a sopping body. A tall, muscular, tan, perfectly chiseled and dripping body. It was the body of an actual god. It was the body of the perfect specimen, with biceps and the long swimmer cuts that pointed firmly toward his… his-ness. 

“Gus, long time, man. How you been?” Bellamy Blake grinned before slipping his cup in his teeth as he hugged the other football player. 

“Not too bad. Heard you’re heading to Oregon in the fall?” 

“Yeah, partial scholarship. We’ll see what happens,” he shrugged. “Staying close?” 

“Yeah, St. Johns, about three hours away.” 

“Full ride?” 

“Yeah. I got offered half to OSU, but would rather not have to pay anything.” 

“No, that’s smart.” 

The whole time they spoke, Lexa watched Clarke’s ex intently. She frowned to herself and wondered how her girlfriend broke up with him. He was effortlessly cool. He was huge. He looked like he knew how to go down on a girl, and Lexa was still apprehensive. She wished she could fast forward in life until she was really good at sex. 

She watched him grin and sip from his red cup, meeting her eyes curiously as Gus explained something about his college recruitment process. 

“I don’t think we’ve ever met before. I’m Bellamy.” 

He held out his hand. And though she didn’t want to do it, she sighed and shook his hand. 

“Sorry, I should have introduced you. This is Lexa.” 

“Lexa… Lexa…” He mulled. 

“Anya Woods’ sister.” 

“Wow, you’re Anya’s little sister?” 

“Yeah.” 

“How is she? I forgot she had a little sister. I remember her little brother died-- oh shit.” 

“Yeah.” 

“We were just heading out,” Gus interrupted. 

“I was actually just going to go talk to Clarke.” 

“Why would you--”

Before anything else could be said, before anything else could transpire between the two of them, before Gus had to interrupt again, Clarke appeared, launching herself into her girlfriend’s arms, wrapping her own around her neck, her body still slightly damp from the pool she must have just climbed out of during the awkward introduction. 

“You’re here. I’m so happy,” Clarke hummed against Lexa’s warm neck. She buried herself there, suffocating herself happily, slightly tipsy. 

“I told you I’d stop by.” 

Clarke kissed her girlfriend’s neck. She leaned most of her body against her there and giggled, oblivious to the eyes, too drunk to care about anything else happening. 

“I am have the worst day. Maybe the worst week. Maybe the worst year ever. No, wait. Definitely the worst year, and today I finally told my mom everything and then left. So Yeah. It’s been terrible. I got drunk.” 

“Not the healthiest coping mechanism.”

“Not a bit,” Clarke grinned, agreeing eagerly and with a wide grin. She leaned forward and kissed her girlfriend despite her words. 

“You can be healthy tomorrow,” Lexa offered. “You okay?” 

“As okay as can be.” 

There was some throat clearing that happened behind them, and Lexa felt a burning in her ears and chest at the display, unaccustomed to it all. 

“So this is your new girlfriend?” Bellamy asked, looking at the pair. 

“Lex, I suppose you’ve met my ex,” Clarke gestured. 

“Kind of.” 

“Is this party a little much?”

“If I remember correctly, this was exactly the kind of thing you liked. We went to many a party in our tenure,” Bellamy shrugged, lazily leaning against a counter. “Things changed since I left, I guess.” 

“I enjoyed not thinking,” Clarke offered. “You were great for that.” 

Gus and Lexa looked between the two and then at each other. She was almost certain she didn’t know what was happening, but that certainly, something was, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. 

“You moved on quick, huh?” 

“Hey, step back,” Gus interrupted as Bellamy took a single step. “This is Anya’s sister.” 

“Woods?” he furrowed. “You’re dating Anya Woods’ kid sister?” 

“Yup,” Clarke nodded. 

“I heard she was--”

“Standing right here,” Gus finished. 

Lexa felt Clarke’s hand move into her own and she smiled despite the fact that she was picking up a drunk girl at her college guy ex’s party. There was a lot in that sentence she wasn’t happy about, now that she thought about it. 

“You ready to get out of here?” Lexa asked innocently, ignoring the rest. 

“I think we still have a few more shots lined up, Clarke,” Bellamy smiled and Lexa understood the need to punch. 

Noticeably torn, she looked at her girlfriend and back at her ex before realizing that she was actually drunk, and that wasn’t good. Lexa smiled softly and rubbed her girlfriend’s back. She kind of imagined how it must have felt to implode and take her mother down with her. Lexa remembered the feeling of telling her father she was gay and sad. Clarke’s implosion didn’t seem as successful as her own, and Lexa was more than happy to try to help in whatever way she could. 

“Can I stay at your place tonight?” 

“Yeah,” Lexa nodded quickly. “I’ll text my mom to let her know.” 

“You’re seriously leaving?” The college football player and terrible ex scoffed. “The night is still young. It’s barely after eleven.” 

“Thanks for getting me drunk, but I should probably go do something better.” 

“Thanks for showing me around,” Lexa offered nodding her head slightly toward the host before he could argue. “Have a good night. I’ll see you on Monday, Gus.”

“Get home safe,” the linebacker warned. 

Slightly dumbfounded, Bellamy Blake stood there, hands on his hips as he watched his ex weave through the crowd of people and disappear. As much s everything stayed the same, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling of change, and how averse he was to it. 

XXXXXXXXXX

“Here, you can, uh,” Lexa quickly moved through her bedroom, leaving her girlfriend standing by the bed. “I have some old sweats if you want.” 

Already, Clarke began taking off her pants, and Lexa quickly looked in the drawers of her dresser. She felt the tips of her ears burn slightly as she looked over her shoulder, her girlfriend slumping into the bed, pants lost to the floor. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have gone to that party. I knew it,” Clarke sighed, rubbing her face with both hands to ride herself of the spinning. “But I didn’t care. I just wanted to… you know…”

“You had it out with your mom. You just anted to go far away. I get it.” 

“Don’t be nice to me. I knew better than to go, especially to anything involving Bellamy Blake.” 

“Why?” 

“He doesn’t care about any of it. Just has drinks. I should have called you or like done something else.” 

“You’re allowed to want to take a night off from a giant secret after a huge fight. And you don’t need my permission,” Lexa reminded her girlfriend, offering an old shirt. 

“It was stupid.” 

“Do you feel better?” 

Gingerly, Lexa tugged at Clarke’s shirt, pulling it over her head until she flopped back down on the bed, her hair fanning out against the pillow. Agitated at herself, at her clothe, at the unfathomable uncontrollability to the entirety of her life, Clarke growled to herself as she tugged off her bra, tossing it to the side and gracelessly pulling on the shirt Lexa offered. 

“I don’t feel better at all.” 

It was certainly a pout, and Lexa did her best to ignore it. Instead, she slicked off the light beside the bed, and slid between the sheets next to Clarke. Lexa laid there until Clarke turned to face her, until she placed her hand on her neck and cheek. 

“I’m sorry you had to pick me up.” 

“It’s okay,” Lexa whispered. 

“It’s not. I’m not like this… I don’t mean to be… I mean--”

“It’s okay.” 

Clarke leaned forward, shifting beneath the blankets until their knees were touching. She moved to only push the hair from Lexa’s forehead and she paused before kissing her lips. She tasted the warmth of the tequila there and she didn’t care. Lexa signed. 

“Please don’t give up on me anytime soon,” Clarke murmured. Stunned from the kiss, Lexa blinked in the dark and shifted closer. 

“I wouldn’t ever.” 

“I know you wouldn’t. I just had to say it out loud.” 

“Okay.” 

Lexa was certain she was going to get another kiss, but instead, Clarke dug her forehead under her girlfriend’s chin and pressed their bodies together, hugging her tightly and disappearing, being overwhelmed, anchoring herself to a steady force. Lexa rubbed Clarke’s back for a few moments until she fell asleep, and then she allowed herself the option of sleep.

NEXT

[an-annyeoing-writer]

vulnerability. – chap. 3.

Story info:

Pair: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Rating: +18 for mentions of s*x and violence (future chapters)

Genre: angst, smut

Chapter info:

Release date: 29th July 2021

Word count: 4 219

Warnings: none

Vulnerability Masterlist || Fanfiction Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Taglist:

@shesdreaminginoverdose @mybiasdashboard @marimsun @byuns-asscheeks @multi–kpop–fanfics @vunv @making-me-blush @skittlez-area512 @bloopbloopkai @byuns-asscheeks @baekyeonoreo @devotedexolnhottest @mingxia-nikki04 @velvetjongin @ssssssul (won't let me tag you T_T) @nemi-mei @buttercupbbh

Please, always comment on the newest chapter if you wish to be added to/removed from the taglist. I will be also checking the tags, so if you’re shy – feel free to leave a note this way.

Previous (Chap. 2.)

Chap. 3.

The tension that appeared the moment you received the phone call from Baekhyun did not dissolve with time. In fact, the opposite happened – it grew as the time passed, and as Saturday came closer and closer. Finally, once your Friday to Saturday night shift came to an end and you stumbled into your flat around 4 in the morning, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep easily. Yet, you forced a whole cup of green tea into yourself in an attempt to soothe your nerves before sleep. Your alarm was set for noon, and you were supposed to meet at 3 PM.

You woke up feeling energized, but you knew this pattern all too well already – the tiredness would come and hit you with its whole power the day after, and you’d spend Sunday sluggish and drained. But that was okay, because Sunday didn’t matter half as much as Saturday did.

You felt a small urge to dress up; even more, actually, you felt a need to pay attention to details rather than looking fine at the first glance. Some common sense hyped up by years of watching other people and reading stories – a thorough shower, shaving, paying attention to not only what you wore outside, but also your undergarments. You lacked things that could be considered “sexy”, but – let’s face it – you didn’t think it mattered much; not after what you’d found out so far. Yet, it would be a shame if your panties had a hole in them. Wearing something neutral, but fresh was your best bet. Every few minutes, you kept reminding yourself – you don’t even know what will happen, you don’t even know if anything will happen at all. There was no reason to think that he’ll want you to undress in the first place, you said it yourself that you’re not ready for sex.

But then, it still helped you gather confidence that you definitely needed at a moment like that. Details allowed one less thing to worry about, and a better ability to focus on others, and so, you made sure the details were worked out well, and that you didn’t overdress, either; a beige shirt and jeans, all wrapped up with sneakers and another knitted cardigan of yours – neutral and polite, maybe a bit school-ish, but these were the things you mostly wore on daily basis, and you felt that going in the other direction – of tight pants, mini-skirts and see-through shirts – would not be appreciated. Your hair was pulled up into a loose bun, nothing like the ones you admired in YT tutorials, but the best you could do on your own. Maybe it was the age difference that made you feel obliged to show respect rather than expose yourself. You trusted your instinct on that, and so far, nothing happened yet to prove it wrong. The weather was starting to get warmer; these days were particularly sunny and dry, so you felt at ease without an extra jacket. It couldn’t get that bad in the evening, and you put faith in your cardigan.

Baekhyun must have thought similarly.

You stood in the bar’s entry, looking up at him for a moment; he leaned back into his usual couch, not aware of your presence just yet. He was wearing a black button-up and jeans as well, something he still looked pretty well put-together in, but not too formal – similar to your own thought process, noticeably.

You inhaled deeply, and took your time to exhale the air – until you felt ready to walk up to him.

“Hi there” he spoke as you approached his couch; as expected, he was there alone today.

“Hi there” you replied with a slight nod and a smile; your voice was quiet, as quiet as it could be without trembling in anticipation.

“You want to drink something before we go?”

You considered it for a second, and then nodded again. Baekhyun moved a bit to the side, encouraging you to join him on the couch, and you took the offer with gratitude.

“Beer? I don’t want to get you drunk, but we may sit here for a bit just to relax.”

“You can tell I need it?”

“Yes. I can tell. Your shoulders are very tense. May I?”

His hand reached to your shoulder and you nodded slightly, a bit unsure what you agreed to just yet.

He suddenly squeezed your muscle, and you whimpered. He kneaded it, and you found the tension dissolving gradually as he went on. Even with only one hand and unfavorable position, he managed to find some of the spots that required touch; that touch was welcome, slight pain coming along with it was desired for the best outcome. You didn’t notice when Baekhyun must have given the bartender some sort of a sign, but the man soon came with a beer and water that he put on the nearby table. That was when Baekhyun’s movement slowly ceased, cautiously letting go of your shoulders. You felt as if you were in a different body, the tension in your body almost gone, just as the one in your mind – the moments of physical interaction were enough to chase some of your worries away.

“You don’t drink?” You reached towards the table – it was closer to you than to him – and took the two glasses, handing him the water and keeping the beer for yourself.

“Not before,” he explained curtly, which you accepted without further questioning.

“So… what are we gonna do?” you asked carefully, sipping the beer through a metal straw, trying to give off a casual vibe despite focusing deeply on what you were about to hear.

“Depends. On how much will you allow me to do.” Baekhyun focused his gaze on something in the crowd; you felt as though it was his habit to avoid a direct gaze in an attempt to sound collected. “I had the idea of showing you some things. Just so you feel it out a little. It’s not final, but it may help the both of us figure out how we feel about it. Like a free trial, you see my point?” You nodded, but didn’t say anything, so after a moment he continued. “I won’t introduce you to everything, and it won’t last as long as usual sessions, either. I’ll talk to you a bit beforehand so we figure out some basic things. It shouldn’t make you uncomfortable. I won’t be trying anything beyond your comfort zone.”

“So, no deals a’la Fifty shades?” you felt silly the moment these words left your mouth. Baekhyun laughed awkwardly.

“No, it won’t be necessary. If you want to draw a comparison to that, I definitely won’t be dumping the whole scheme on you when you don’t even know what it’s like.”

And you won’t fuck me first thing in the plot, you added in your thoughts.

“There are a few things that I may ask you here, so that we have those out of the way,” he spoke; his tone lowered a little. “I need you to tell me if you have any illnesses or old injures that could influence your physical capacity.”

You thought for a bit; the answer was important, but you couldn’t recall much.

“I don’t think there’s anything important.”

“Is there anything unimportant?” His gaze pierced through you as he caught on your wording.

“Uh… I’m taking pills for my thyroid, but it’s nothing very dramatic” you explained. “Nothing else that I know of.”

Baekhyun nodded slowly.

“Fair. Next question, is there anything you’re particularly scared of? Phobias, or things you’re scared of in general, anything overly triggering that you want to avoid at all costs?” You already revealed some of these during your first conversation. But now you felt more at ease, and you thought you could be more detailed without sounding overwhelming.

“I’m… scared of fire. And hate my hair being pulled. I don’t know, why. I can’t explain it. It’s just…”

“It’s alright. You don’t need to explain yourself to me” Baekhyun looked at you with his eyebrows slightly furrowed. “You sound like it would stress you out to share. You don’t need to be afraid of that. You don’t owe me anything, keep that in mind. It’s not supposed to feel like an obligation.”

“I-I know.”

“I’m scared of heights, by the way.” You stared at him in confusion. “Hm? Just thought it’s fair to share if you did.”

“Oh.”

“Chill out.” He nudged your glass with his hand to urge you to drink some more of the beer you managed to forget about by then. It was halfway through – you didn’t want to leave the glass with some of it still inside, although it managed to make you feel just a bit sick already.

His own drink was at around the same level too, and as you finished yours, he drank the remaining water in one go as well.

You weren’t the best at handling alcohol, and even the small amounts made you a bit weak in the knees. But you felt sober enough as the two of you finally got up; Baekhyun paid for your drinks and you left the bar.

The weather was nice, as expected. Going out into the sunlight again startled you, somehow; you felt as though a lot of time had already passed. But no, it was still the same afternoon.

It was true that Baekhyun lived nearby. His apartment was in a different direction than your place, though, and you estimated it would take around twenty minutes to get from one place to the other. You knew this area, although not too well – there were only some tenement houses, but no stores or academic buildings that could gain your attention or regular presence. It was on the more expensive side, although not a place a well off office worker wouldn’t afford; just maybe not suitable for a student. The tenement houses were old, but well-kept, and you knew that the apartments were way bigger than in a place like yours.

Opening the door for you, Baekhyun invited you into the dark hallway of his apartment. There were no lights, as every wall had doors to other rooms: two to the left, one at the end of the corridor, and two more to the right, perfectly symmetric.

“Kitchen, my office, bathroom, my bedroom, and the living room,” the man told you, starting from the left. One glance into the living room on the right made you realize just how big the rooms were; enormous, in your honest opinion, with the area of something around a classroom at school, but with ceilings that reached far up, almost twice higher than in your own place. Heavy curtains hung from the top of the tall windows like limp branches of a willow tree, giving the most dramatic effect, and – likely – gathering tons of dust throughout their lifetime. Wooden, carved furniture added to the effect, and you, in all your sincerity, would not dare to ask how much such a set cost, although it would be a lie to say that you weren’t curious. Wooden panels on the floor were already worn and grey, giving you a thought that the interiors were kept in this particular shape for long years before Baekhyun began to reside in there.

“That’s huge,” you only uttered. Your eyes rested on a painting in the middle of a wall on the left side of the room, above an eclectic-green, velvet couch, in front of which was a wooden coffee table, and which gave a perfect sight into an old TV on the side of the room, as it was one of the old-styled, small models that would be hard to look at from the distance between one wall and the other. The painting looked old, but you wondered from the distance, whether it was not just printed in good quality, with all the details of lights, people and nature making it look like a piece of national heritage rather than a small private property. It portrayed a battle scene coming to an end, warriors in shining armor stained with blood resting upon trees and a small pond of pinkish water, at either sunset or sunrise – you weren’t sure.

“You like it?” He caught your stare and followed it, giving himself a few seconds to adore the painting as well, as though he hadn’t looked at it enough despite living here.

“It’s too violent,” you decided after a moment. “But it’s nice to look at.”

“It’s not that violent in itself, I think. But it does conjure the thought of it.”

He left the living room with you still in the doorframe, staying to look at the painting just for a few more seconds. When you turned around, he was entering the kitchen – this room also looked old, but less well kept; it was cleaned up perfectly, however the furniture was shabby, with the surfaces often partly rubbed off and grey; this room simply screamed for renovation. But you felt way more at ease with the fact that it looked similar to yours – the one that was over twenty years old when you moved with and you had no way of changing it without getting in trouble with the landlord. And not like you’d want to do it at all, since you’d move out right after your studies anyway. The only difference was that you tried to make your apartment look a bit warmer with colorful lights and other cheap ornaments here and there, while Baekhyun’s kitchen was just left as it was, as though he gave up on it the moment he moved in.

“Hungry?”

“Not much.” You were still full of the freshly consumed beer.

Out of the fridge, Baekhyun took a bag of half-eaten potato chips. You stared at him with your eyebrow raised as he ate a few of these, and then extended the bag towards you, to which you only shook your head and he put the bag back in the fridge. He caught your look.

“Food moths,” he explained. You slowly nodded in understanding. That’d be a useful tip if you ever got those. The summer was slowly coming; soon, your small apartment would also be filled with bugs, and fruit flies, mosquitos, and sciarids because you kept a few plants in (discovering that sciarids and fruit flies were not the same thing was an important step in achieving perfect harmony in your adulthood).

You sat awkwardly by the table, observing him as he reached for the bag he must have left on the counter before he went to pick you up, and took out leftovers – probably from work – putting them back in the fridge.

“You worked today?” you asked.

“Yeah, just an average thing, a strategic meeting with co-workers. My working hours are not regular, so I didn’t really know I was gonna be out today.”

Once he was done, he sat by the table as well, and you leaned a bit forward, resting your chin on top of your hand.

“You could have postponed it with me, you must be tired,” you said.

“Don’t worry, I’d rather have a chance to relax with you.”

That didn’t sound as innocent as he probably tried to make it, and he looked over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t scare you with the choice of words. You only laughed awkwardly.

“Anyway. Since, as I said, I don’t want to intimidate you, I think we’ll stay in the living room since you seemed content with that,” he spoke casually.

“So, no playroom?” you uttered. Baekhyun choked on the chip in his mouth.

“I don’t own such a place. I just usually use the bedroom. Or the bathroom,” he explained.

“Or the office?” you felt bold enough to suggest, giving him a small smirk.

“No, I assure you the office is for what offices usually are.”

You smiled innocently as Baekhyun stared at you, probably trying to mask sudden shyness.

“Either way,” he cleared his throat. “I told you some about what I want to do, but you haven’t told me if there’s anything you’re interested in trying out. I assume you did see some things, so… Is there anything that you’ve been particularly interested in?”

The harmless way in which he phrased the question absolutely didn’t change the fact that he was, basically, asking what kind of porn you watch.

“I uh… I like watching different things, just out of curiosity, but I’m not really sure if there’s anything I like particularly more than other things… I suppose bondage is the biggest basic.” You tried, you really tried to sound neutral, but your voice trembled a little. “But I’m not really sure, to be honest. I’m quite open-minded, I suppose…” You felt silly; how could you not be able to answer the most basic question – what do you like? But Baekhyun seemed to understand that very well, as he only nodded slowly.

“What about, let’s say, pet play?” You blushed slightly. “You know what I’m talking about? I feel like a lot of young women start from there.” It took you a moment to realize that you, too, were a young woman. “Behavioral training. Humiliation. Regression. A bit of pain, if suitable. Trying out a few things to see how you respond. What do you think?”

“I think it may be fun” you said slowly. “Does it have something to do with the…?” you motioned your neck, hoping he’ll get the cue. You remembered the collars the other people wore – they were the main reason you got interested in the first place, after all. Baekhyun smiled, catching on your observation.

“Sometimes, but not necessarily. It’s just a thing I like. Do you?”

“…I may,” you answered carefully.

“Gotcha. We may try it out. You know, everyone is different. The collars are different too. I usually order them after I’m sure the person’s gonna stay, and when I know what type will be the most suitable for them. I can’t do that for you yet, but I have some spare items.”

“Do you have the ones of people who you’re not with anymore?” you asked, out of pure curiosity.

Baekhyun was silent for a moment.

“I do. But I’d rather not use them. They’re there for memory, not for use.”

“Gotcha. I was just curious,” you quickly explained.

“Do you have a safe-word?” Baekhyun’s gaze rested on you.

“…Not really. Never needed one,” you uttered sheepishly.

“You have anything on your mind?”

“Um, the… thing with lights? The red light, yellow and green?” you proposed carefully.

“That’s a good one. Tell me how you understand them.”

“So, the green one means everything’s alright, the yellow is when we need to slow down, and the red stops the scene,” you recited, as if you were reading from a book.

“That’s right. It’s easy to remember, so we can go with that.” You bit on your lips to prevent yourself from getting too excited with the apparent praise; it wasn’t anything big, of course – but you felt as though it was a praise in itself, being acknowledged for saying something right. “Another thing is that I need you to know a few rules, before we start.” You were all ears. “First, I don’t want you to be reluctant for the fun of it. Whether you want to be a brat later or not, today we’re just trying things out and I don’t want to mistake your attitude with actual discomfort, do you understand?” You nodded slowly, memorizing the words and waiting for him to continue. “Second. No pain that I will impose on you will be a matter of punishment, unless I specify so. If you don’t enjoy it, you need to tell me so. It doesn’t mean I’ll stop right away, unless – of course – you use the safe-word. However, I still expect honesty. During, as well as after the scene, when we review it. Do you understand?” The breaks in between the points gave you enough time to acknowledge the information and encode it in your memory. You nodded once again. “And for the last. Do you trust me?”

The tone made you look up at him, finally focusing on his person rather than the words alone.

“I do,” you finally decided; knowing very well what this answer would lead to.

Baekhyun’s eyes sparkled as he smiled at you warmly.

“Well then, shall we start?”

* * *

You stand in the middle of the room, the cardigan and shoes are off, your feet feel cold against the floor despite socks wrapped around them comfortingly.

Don’t move a finger, you’ve been told, and so, you stare at the painting before you, the warrior in the front staring at you back with contempt you haven’t noticed before.

Your breath trembles in anticipation as you try to hear sounds from other rooms – you do hear some shuffling, but nothing that you can figure out for sure. He must be in his bedroom, you think. What is he preparing? Which tools out of many that you’ve seen on the screen of your phone all these nights that, despite spending perfect eight hours in bed, did not end in getting perfect eight hours of sleep?

Your arm itches, but you fight the urge to scratch it; be obedient, he said.

Steps echo in the corridor and you hold your breath. Your head snaps to the side the moment you hear him enter the room again.

“Eyes down,” he commands without sparing you a glance; you haven’t had enough time to see what he brought, but you instantly obey his words. “Don’t look at me unless I allow you to.” His voice is stern, and it makes your stomach clench nervously. But it’s not a bad sensation, not at all – you grow excited. “Down. On your knees.”

You try to comply, but he still scoffs at your apparent sluggishness. You almost fall over as you let your knees bend and you finally kneel down as well as you can, eyes facing down as well, although you feel awkward as you do so.

“On your toes,” Baekhyun commands; something small but hard hits your heels, startling you, and your head whips around to see a wooden pointing stick. You swallow the gasp of surprise at the sight.

You fix your posture, your toes instantly begin to cramp; that’s uncomfortable, and your toes aren’t too flexible, it seems.

“Straighten your back. You’re slouching.”

The task turns out almost impossible to do, the whole weight lands on your toes and you frown in discomfort.

“Is it necessary…?”

“Look at me.” It feels unnatural to do so now, but you oblige, turning your head to the side where he stands. “What’s wrong?”

“My toes hurt,” you admit quietly. Baekhyun watches you for a moment.

“Straighten them. Kneel as you did before.” You bite your lips and nod, uttering a small thank you that you find suitable enough as the position gets a bit more comfortable. “Back. Straighten.”

You automatically snap back into the position. But it does feel a bit silly – like something your teachers would say, don’t slouch! A laughter comes out at the comparison, but you attempt to stifle it.

Apparently, not well enough.

The pointer hits the nape of your neck; not too hard, but the message gets through.

Baekhyun stands in front of you and, most likely, stares you down – you can’t tell; your gaze is fixated on his lacquered shoes. The shoes then move, kicking the middle of your thighs.

“Spread.”

You feel a bit awkward as you oblige this command; you only glance down to make sure your pants aren’t ripped – you never know. To your relief, they’re not. Then you try to glance forward – but, what’s in front of you, makes you more shy than anything, so you just fix your gaze on his knees instead.

“You’re slouching again.”

“Pets often do,” you note before you manage to bite your tongue; you do remember your conversation from before – wasn’t it what he was aiming for? You thought so at first. But the words were not thought through at all; you just felt a need to say something, anything, just like you’d talk back to a teacher when they became too annoying in their remarks.

You hold your breath as Baekhyun crouches down to your level.

You feel his eyes on you, and you unwittingly tremble under his gaze, forcing yourself to look even lower, not daring to break the rule. The seconds seem to last hours as he doesn’t speak a word – and he doesn’t have to. You feel intimidated.

“You want to be a pet?”

He stands up; he’s right in front of you, if you so much as leaned forward a little bit, your forehead would touch his thigh. You slightly crave the touch; but not enough to move, not when you grow petrified. The question is rhetorical. You wait for him to finish the thought.

“Then I’ll treat you like one.”

Without waiting for your reaction, he steps behind you. You hear shuffling in what had to be a box placed behind your back; you see nothing.

But you hear the harsh, recognizable clink of metal and your stomach drops.

* * *

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Author's note: Hello, have you missed me??? I'm sorry it took so long to upload, it's hard to find time among exams I had in June, and now my (first) new job! The next chapter is already being written, so hopefully, won't take that long. Remember to reblog if you liked, and I'll be really happy to hear what you have to say about this so far. Stay safe!

Next (Chapter 4.)

[2manyfandoms2count]

I love you (not) - Chapter 12

Today on I love you (not), Adrienette makes an appearance and our dearest protagonists have feeling epiphanies. We're only halfway through the fic though, so everything isn't solved. After the mutually unrequited half, we're about to enter the pining half. Hope you enjoy!

@marichatmay

First | Previous | AO3 | Next

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Chapter 12: In which youuuu can feeeeel the loveeee toniiiight

Marinette’s gaze wandered around the room as she sipped on her sparkling apple juice, her foot absentmindedly tapping to the beat of the music. The party was in full swing, and so far, everything seemed to be going swimmingly.

Her classmates were laughing, even Chloé and Lila (separately, of course), hanging out in small groups around the buffet, or showing off their moves on the dancefloor. No sign of an Akuma anywhere. Everything was perfect.

A slight frown creased Marinette’s forehead as she realised that there was one person whom she hadn’t seen yet, and she was starting to wonder what was keeping him when she sensed a presence behind her.

"Hey, Marinette." Adrien almost managed to sneak up on her, but he was less discrete than Chat Noir. She turned around, a bright smile gracing her lips. There he was.

Adrien's breath caught as he took in exactly how pretty Marinette looked in her dress. He’d known she'd been bound to look good in it; firstly, because Marinette was always pretty, it was an undeniable fact; secondly, the dress had been very pretty on the mannequin, too, so really it would have been a feat for it not to be nice when worn.

Yet nothing could've prepared him for the synergistic effect of both, the garment falling gracefully on her, hugging her in all the right places.

"You look... Amazing, did you make that dress yourself?" He blushed as he averted his gaze to meet her eyes. He noticed she was wearing her hair half up, which really was a lovely look on her.

"Thanks, and yes," Marinette's cheeks pinked as she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I was aiming to not be overdressed, but..." Her eyes went back to the open space. Adrien saw that even though a couple of their classmates had thrown on a blazer, most had showed up in their usual attire.

"You're perfect." He smiled, before tutting. "The others are underdressed. We had a planned party for once, and yet... Really, people could have made a bit more of an effort."

Marinette turned towards him. Adrien’s hands were casually buried in his pockets. He wasn’t wearing his usual jeans, but a suit, darker than the one she’d always seen him wear. "At least you seem to have gotten the memo. New suit?"

"Good eye. It's part of Father's next collection." He grinned.

"We're so lucky to get an exclusive preview." Her hand hovered midway between them, hesitant to touch the fabric.

"It's not entirely benevolent, though. I'm supposed to crash test it, to see if it withstands being worn." He adjusted his cufflinks. "Actually, would you do me the honour of dancing with me? Purely for experimental purposes, obviously." He bowed before her and winked.

"Of course." She giggled at his antics, an odd feeling of déjà vu nagging at her. She knew she was talking to Adrien, and yet… There was something about him tonight that made her think of a certain someone else. She brushed the thought away, blaming it on the dark suit, as she put her glass down and took his hand, following him to the dancefloor.

Adrien caught Nino's eye, and the latter nodded at him with a wide smile. He made an ok sign before changing the track.

“Time to shake things up in here, time to get a little rock’n roll!” he announced in his best DJ voice.

“Up for the challenge?” Adrien asked Marinette.

She nodded, mentally thanking Chat Noir for the refresher course he’d given her. He really had her back whatever the situation, huh?

They started swinging their arms to the rhythm; she remembered to trace hearts in the air to show professionalism. Then the rhythm picked up, and the show really started.

Adrien picked up the pace and Marinette smoothly followed, starting with easy figures; twirl in, twirl out, half-waltz, yoyo, hand exchange, double stroke. People looked on curiously as Marinette cocked an eyebrow at Adrien, daring him to level it up.

He smirked and lifted her briefly, resumed a couple of simple passes, then, as she spun back into his embrace, he dipped her. Somebody (probably Alya), hooted in the crowd.

“Ready for a flip?” He was slightly breathless, his hair a little dishevelled.

Marinette’s heart was beating quite fast and although she was flushed, she knew it was just from the exercise. The thought rattled her a bit.

“Show me what you got, Agreste.” She put on her most confident smile and he pulled her up. His hands dropped to her waist and he lifted her, throwing her in the air. Her flight lasted a couple of seconds, during which she didn’t hear their audience’s gasps, and then she was back in Adrien’s strong arms, cushioning her landing.

Cheers erupted around them as the song faded out, and they remained embraced, slightly panting from the dance.

“That was amazing, Marinette,” Adrien whispered in her ear, with a slightly disbelieving chuckle. He’d managed to catch her without the Miraculous suit’s help. The doubt had invaded his mind just as she’d left his arms, and he hoped she never knew how terrified he’d been of dropping her.

“Yeah,” she panted.

Suddenly the guitar solo of Toto’s Won't hold you back now echoed through the restaurant.

Adrien’s eyes met Nino’s, and his friend winked at him. A crazy idea crossed his mind. He’d enjoyed his time with Marinette so much over the past months. Dating her as Chat Noir was definitely a bad idea and he definitely had to put an end to it, but what if… What if he asked her out as Adrien? Yes, there’d still be that massive secret hanging between them, that he moonlit as one of Paris’ superheroes. But being on the other side of the mask, the one that got to talk to her every day without having to make up excuses as to why he was at her balcony, that could just turn around in his seat to tell her how beautiful she was, would make things so much easier.

If she’d fallen in love with Chat Noir, she’d technically already be in love with him, although he’d of course pull all the stops to make sure she felt as cherished as she deserved, and do his best to conceal the fact that her ex and her present boyfriend were actually the same person. He couldn’t deny that he’d thought about Marinette more than he’d had about Ladybug lately. This was the perfect opportunity to move on from his partner.

"Hey, it's our song." He commented, feeling his heartbeat pick up.

"O-our?" Marinette stammered, pulling away slightly from him.

"The one we danced to at Chloé's last party, remember?" He felt his cheeks warm up at the thought that he might have spoken out of turn, or worse, that she might have forgotten, when the memory regularly invaded his dreams. She’d seemed almost shocked at his choice of words.

"Oh, right." She gave him a small smile before moving a little closer to him.

It wasn’t exactly to snuggle up to him, although she supposed it probably looked like it, given Alya’s enthusiastic thumbs up she caught as they danced; she just needed to hide her face from him. Adrien led their steps, which was just as well since her overthinking brain was too busy trying to compute his words.

Was he... Making a move on her? She looked up and their eyes locked, his gaze softening as they did. He twirled her before catching her, holding her a little closer than before. She didn't mind.

Then he unexpectedly dipped her, and looked as if he was about to say something to her. His eyes were full of affection, like hers in almost all of the pictures of her looking at him that had been taken before a couple of months ago. She could almost feel the virtual pink bubbles that surrounded her.

She paled.

Maybe she was finally getting what she'd wanted since the first real conversation they'd had. Maybe this was it . But then why did it feel so… wrong? Why did her heart tell her to bolt? Why did she want to be in Chat Noir's arms at that precise moment?

"Marinette? Is everything ok?" Adrien pulled her up, a worried frown creasing his brow.

"It's just a bit warm, I haven't eaten much today. I'll just go and grab something from the buffet." She waved in its direction, putting up a brave smile to conceal her rattled state. What was it with Chat Noir invading her thoughts tonight? She needed to get a grip.

"Want me to come with you?" He really looked concerned, and she felt bad for worrying him.

"I’ll be fine, thanks. Keep testing out your suit." She patted his shoulder gently before heading off.

He watched her walk away, slightly disconcerted. He'd felt so confident that he'd be able to reproduce the unadulterated joy his friend had displayed when they'd danced in her room, yet somehow he seemed to have gone a step too far.

But then again... Maybe it all boiled down to who she'd been with then (well, who she’d known she was with).

He knew it wasn't a good idea. But he had to check his theory. His heart commanded it.

---

Marinette tried her best to act like a wallflower next to the buffet, something that might have worked better if she hadn't undisputedly been the prettiest girl in the room, and if she'd been standing near an actual wall and not a bay window. Those were Chat Noir's thoughts, anyway, as he watched her from outside, perched on his baton, holding back from knocking on the closest window just to see her sway gently to the rhythm of the music.

Then he saw her nibbling at her nails, confirming that something was troubling her.

She must have sensed that she was being watched, because she turned around before his fist could tap on the window. Their eyes met, and for a second she looked slightly surprised, a little taken aback, even, by his presence, before a smile bloomed on her lips. He could have sworn that she was relieved. He wished that he could've taken a picture of her at that exact moment.

“You really felt like you needed to patrol tonight?” She asked as she opened the window for him.

“Well, I know they say that the mice dance when the cat’s away, but this cat felt like it was missing out.” He pointed to himself and pouted.

“Poor kitty.” She scratched his neck. He almost let out a purr, but managed to hold it in.

“Anyway, I see a mouse that isn’t dancing, and I’d argue that’s a criminal offence.” He shot her a pointed look.

“It’s not like I haven’t danced already.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll have you know that we were quite a success.”

“I know, I was there.” He winked.

She  looked at her feet sheepishly, and he regretted his choice of words. He cleared his throat. “I was thinking, I think the rooftop’s empty, would you like to get out of here, maybe?”

“Please.” She grabbed a chair and helped herself up, climbing out of the window after checking nobody was looking. Chat pushed the window pane shut after she’d gotten on his lap and extended his baton upwards, letting go of her when they’d reached the top floor.

Marinette took a deep breath as she leaned on the railing, looking at the view. Dark, warning clouds had gathered on the horizon, but she only saw the full moon, standing unobstructed in the sky and reflecting in the pool.

The music was faintly audible from below. Marinette shuffled around to face Chat Noir.

“So… Since you were complaining about this mouse not dancing… How about you right that wrong?”

“‘Twould be my pleasure, princess.” He took her hand and guided her out.

“A waltz?” Marinette raised an eyebrow after the first couple of steps. “I thought they were passées .”

“I wouldn’t want you to have practised for nothing,” he said softly. “Plus, nobody’s here to judge us for being old-fashioned.”

She let out a content sigh as he gently pressed his cheek to her temple (they couldn’t dance cheek to cheek even with her kitten heels). She closed her eyes and revelled in the moment.

Gently swaying in the moonlight, Chat humming along to the music ( La vie en rose, probably a request from Juleka), it was like time had stopped, and she wished they could stay in this perfect bubble forever, one where she didn’t have to question her feelings, where she could just enjoy the moment.

Marinette felt something light land on her shoulder. Then on her nose.

Chat must have felt it too, because they both looked up. The moon was gone, hidden by stormy clouds. The rain’s pace picked up. They looked at each other, Marinette’s gaze questioning what they should do.

Chat Noir purred, afraid she’d let go of him. Marinette let out a crystalline laugh, an exquisite sound he knew he’d never grow tired of hearing.

She held him closer, eyes fluttering shut once more as she smiled, her cheek pressed to his chest, enjoying the gentle vibrations.

This was it. She was right where she wanted to be.

[mustyrosewater]

𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨 . . .

@leatherjacketmazzello​ requested what going clothes shopping with the pedro boys is like!

so lets go !! 

warnings : mentions of lingerie, mentions of sex.

javier pena : 

i’m not gonna lie to you, i kind of feel like javi wouldn’t be all that up to the idea of going clothes shopping with you at first. he has better things to do with his time rather than help you pick out clothes, that’s at least what he says until you casually mention you might be trying on some bra’s as well. 

our boy gets up very quickly and is already in the car by the time you grab your purse. the process of actually finding something to try on his boring for him at first; he has no idea how womens clothes work, this man only ever goes shopping if he has literally nothing else to wear or if his jeans are beyond repair. this along with the fact that he normally just picks a pair, gets the size and leaves. i don’t think the concept of actually trying on clothes before you buy them is actually in his brain. 

it’s not until you drag him along with you to the change rooms with a little white sundress with cute sunflower patterns all over it hung over your arm and tell him to wait while you try it. he ends up sat on a stool with his arms crossed as he impatiently waits for you. the ladies working at the change rooms have a little giggle and crack a few jokes with him while he waits.

it’s not until he hears the curtain draw back and lazily turns his head to you, only to nearly choke on his own saliva when he sees you grinning at him happily and do a little spin to show it off.

this man nearly gets a semi then and there. 

next thing you know javi is picking out several more things to try on, so much so that you need to remind him you still need to try on bra’s. 

he is very, very motivated to help you pick something out. 

francisco “catfish” morales : 

we know our boy is a sweetheart™ so even if he doesn’t have the best of idea of how shopping for women’s clothes works, you best believe he is going to happily drive with you to the mall to at least try and help. 

everytime you hold something up and ask him what he thinks he just holds his hands in his pockets and shrugs. it’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s just that to him everything looks beautiful on you so it doesn’t really matter. 

when you finally pick out a few items and bring him with you to the change rooms, you decide to just let him go in with you because we know he’s seen you naked countless times, neither of you really care at this point and there was nobody actually in the change rooms at the time so why not? 

he’s not really paying the m o s t attention because while he loves you, he’s only human, this man will check his phone every now and then. 

h o w e v e r, he looks up just in time to see you pulling on a pair of jean shorts and he’d be lying if watching you do a little shimmy while pulling them over the curse of your ass and turning in the mirror to check them out.

the moment you turn to him and asks him what he thinks his eyes are slightly widened and the man looks absolutely hypnotized. it’s not hard for you to realize that those jean shorts are most definitely a solid yes. 

shane “dio” morrisey : 

i feel like you and dio would get your clothes at pretty similar places, so whenever you want to go shopping it’s an invitation for him to come along and grab a few things for himself as well. this is despite the fact that literally every single time you two go shopping, it turns into dio taking you into practically every lingerie shop he can find and getting you to try things on for him. 

we’re not gonna sit here and act like you guys don’t shoplift ok, this man does not have a job, he is not paying for any of this. 

he’s usually more enthusiastic about picking things out for you, purely because he loves to see you try on things that he thinks would look good on you, lots of skirts and such. 

he wouldn’t force you to get something if you didn’t like it, but he’d definitely reassure you that if you change your mind he’s still putting it in his bag. 

i feel like he’d love to pick out chokers for you to try as well?

yes, you two go into a sexy shop, yes you come out with some very interesting purchases in terms of what some would consider ‘clothes.’ 

oberyn martell : 

well i mean, this man is a prince, if you even mention that you’re thinking about going down to the market to look for some more gowns, he can and will send you a plethora of new items. 

you told him you were fine with just going to the market and picking out a few simple things. did he listen? no. you know for a fact that some of these dresses come from the finest tailors in westeros.

at first you don’t want to accept it, it’s too much, but oberyn reassures you that you deserve them, and that only the most beautiful of gowns are allowed to grace your ethereal body. 

you know for a fact that he only wants you to try them on in front of him so that he can take them off of you, one of his favorites thing to do is know that you’re wearing something that he got for you, almost like he’s wrapping his own present in beautiful silks and embroidered velvet dresses. 

there was only one time the two of you actually went down to the market and every single time you tried something on he would shake his head slowly and tell you that whatever you were trying on was not worthy of your beauty and that you just need to let him order in dresses that are truly worthy enough of such a goddess. 

din djarin : 

ok look, our boy mando knows next to nothing about womens clothing, but armor? that our boy knows, he will absolutely take you to the markets and help you pick out armor that is worth the credits as well as making sure you aren’t paying more than it’s worth. 

i’m not gonna lie our boy would be absolutely hopeless at helping you go clothes shopping and thats ok, it’s not like he ever thought he would be doing that, he is a bounty hunter after all. 

there was only a single time that you were out looking for a bounty and came across a small market, curiosity getting the better of you, you went and had a look, thinking that maybe you could find something to bring back for the kid, a new toy or something. 

you didn’t mean to buy the dress, it was just the fact that as you picked it up, you could tell that din was staring at you intensely through his helmet, and part of you just knew he was imagining what you would look like in the dress.

of course it found it’s way into your bag all for the purpose of surprising him later on.

maxwell lord : 

the second that you mention your plans to go out shopping for a few new bits and pieces, maxwell is immediately standing up from his desk and informing his secretary that the two of you were going out. 

he gets the two of you in a car and next thing you know you’re pulling up outside of chanel, looking over at maxwell with furrowed brows. he just looks at you like it’s the most normal thing in the world to go to chanel for ‘bits and pieces.’

you try to assure him that he doesn’t have to take you here but he just brushes whatever protests you give off and takes you inside, unable to hide a chuckle when he see’s you looking around the store in awe, marveling at the chandelier and perfectly pressed white fluffy carpets. 

he tells you to start looking around and tells you to let him know if you see something you like. you look at him like he’s crazy but none the less begin to nervously walk around the store, tilting your head at the overdressed mannequins put into outfits that must cost more than your car and rent combined. 

as soon as you look at something for more than five seconds, maxwell asks if you like it or if you want to try it on. to be honest, shopping with maxwell is kind of a nightmare purely because you can’t help but feel like the workers will think this is some kind of sugar daddy relationship and that you’re just with maxwell for his money. maxwell assures you that they don’t get paid enough to care. 

max phillips : 

while max isn’t exactly loaded, we know he’s a frat boy that’s come from a trust fund family so he definitely isn’t middle class by any means. 

so expect that when you tell max that you’re thinking of going out to get some new clothes he takes you to ralph lauren of all places; this is a man who wears tailored suits and always has his rolex on, he is going to spoil you at least a little bit. 

even if you have concerns about people thinking you’re a gold digger, he assures you that he knows you love him and that’s the only opinion that you should really care about. 

and yes, when you get home he expects you to model everything he bought you, especially any and all expensive lingerie.

jack daniels a.k.a agent whiskey : 

when it comes to our southern boy, he has simple taste at heart. so when you say that you were thinking of getting some new clothes, he absolutely wants to go with you purely because he wants to help you as well as having the opportunity to shower you with compliments. 

he knows your taste extremely well and is very good at picking out things that he knows you’ll both really like. 

however, it doesn’t matter what you try on, because every single time without failure it’s going to result in you showing it to him for his opinion and in turn having him look you up and down, let out a low whistle and tell you that “well, you look as pretty as a peach, good enough to eat.” or some variation of his classic southern charm. 

at the end of the day he’s happy if you’re happy, he’s probably never going to get sick of shopping trips if it means it’s just an excuse to oogle at you and compliment you every five minutes. 

pero tovar : 

i think he’s more surprised than anything when you say you want to go to the market for something other than armor or weapons. he’s never seen you in anything other than armor or sleepwear so the idea of you wearing anything else is a completely new concept to him. he’s lying if he says he isn’t at least curious.

at first he’s a bit overwhelmed by the dresses that you’re looking at, especially when it comes to all the fancy words the sellers are saying. ‘embroidered’ ‘hand stitched’ he doesn’t know what they mean but he learns that they’re good things at least? he’s definitely not trying to remember the words so that if he ever wants to surprise you with anything he’ll know what to ask for. 

he almost freezes when you turn to him holding up a dress and asking him what he thinks, we all know that he doesn’t know enough to have a good opinion on the dress itself, and any opportunity to get you into something pretty is a yes for him, he simply shrugs and lets out a small grunt. 

he’s thankful for the market trip later on when he actually gets to see you in the dress later on, especially when he gets to tear it off of you. 

dave york : 

a majority of the time dave is far too busy to actually go shopping with you, but the second he gets some time off you are dragging that man to a store with you to pick out some clothes. he doesn’t necessarily have very interesting opinions of what you hold up from the rack, once again coming back to the whole idea of you looking gorgeous in whatever you wear. 

things do get interesting when you get to lingerie however, if he had ears, they would perk up at the mention of it. 

yes, he wants you to try things on. yes, if you like it he’ll be the one buying it for you because he wants to see you wearing lingerie he knows he paid for. 

also he absolutely tries to spew some bullshit he’s heard from chick flicks about how ‘that cardigan matches goes with your eye color.’ okay dave, you get an a for effort at least? 

[mochiwritingdump]

Wonderland; Oliver and Charlotte

After weeks of planning, they both managed to find a day off that worked for both of them to finally go on that date. Charlotte had been busy with studying (as always) while Oliver had been also busy with his PhD’s thesis, instead but it was finally the day. Oliver had been particularly excited about this upcoming date– not that it wasn’t his usual state of mind when it came to Charlotte, but since that Valentine’s Day “date”, he noticed a shift on their friendships’s dynamic, which he hoped it was leaning towards the romantic side. Charlotte replied to his texts faster than usual and they were also texting more often than usual. Heck, he still remembered the moment she at last liked one of his Instagram photos after many many failed attempts; the boy even took a screenshot of the notification to remember such fantastic moment. 

Now, he wouldn’t try anything too daring nor anything that would make her uncomfortable, but last time she didn’t say anything to him kissing her cheek, so Oliver assumed it would be okay to hopefully do that again. Or even take her hand! That was certainly something he was wishing to do. 

Out of habit, he bought a small bouquet of daisies for her again because coming empty-handed to a date would be pretty rude, wouldn’t it? And Oliver loved seeing her sweet smile every time, and most especially if it was because of something he did or said. 

Since they were going to the cinema, they both chose to dress rather casually– Oliver wearing a pair of jeans with a blue hoodie on top paired with trainers while Charlotte opted for a pair of beige checked high-rise cropped trousers, loafers and a simple cream blouse with ruffled collar and slightly puffed sleeves. Charlotte knew it was just a cinema date and she read that those kind of dates were a bit on the more casual side, yet she couldn’t help but dress up a bit as she wanted to look pretty, so she put in some extra effort on her outfit (with a bit of help from Naeun).

As always, Oliver got there first, since his excitement made him leave his house earlier than usual as he also wanted to arrive to the meeting spot early as to not make her wait. So there he was, bouquet in hand, waiting for the female as he nervously rocked his body slightly to both sides.

“H-hi!” Charlotte greeted him as soon as she arrived. “I didn’t make you wait, did I? I hope I didn’t...” 

He immediately perked up at the sound of that lovely voice, turning his body to her. “N-not at all! I get to places really early, so it’s just me really. Perfectly on time,” he said after a quick glance to his watch, then his gaze raised to look at her, eyes going up and down her figure, taking in her lovely outfit. She looked extremely beautiful as always. However, it did make him feel slightly underdressed and had the feeling he’d look like a doofus standing next to such a beauty like Charlotte was. Although it did make him happy she seemed to pick extra cute outfits for their dates. “I must say that you look really cute! Super cute actually...” He admitted with a faint blush on his cheeks and then handed her the daises. “Some more flowers for you because it seems to be an habit of mine at this point.”

Upon hearing the compliments, an instant red color rose to her cheeks, which she hoped it’d look subdued thanks to the very natural make-up she was wearing. “Ahhh thank you! I hope I am not too overdressed or anything..?” She said with a soft laughter. “Thank you for the flowers too, Oliver. It is a very sweet thing of you to bring me flowers.” Smile growing bigger on her lips, the femme carefully took the flowers in her hands. Oliver was indeed such a sweet guy and always made her feel she was so lucky to spend time with him.

“If anything, I’m the one being underdressed! I mean, I do look like a doofus.” He joked. 

“Not at all... You look... ahh..you look..” She made a slight pause as she kept on blushing. “ You look really good. What are we watching by the way?” She inquired, averting her gaze to the cinema ahead of them.

It was indeed a very simple compliment, but it was enough to fill his heart with joy and excitement.

“I was recommended this movie that just came out, so I thought we could check it out. I don’t really know what it is about really...” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. He did know what it was about, obviously. “I heard it is some kind of horror? I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all... if it was a recommendation by a friend, then it must be good.”

He then began walking towards the huge cinema building, with Charlotte following him from up close, walking by his side. Oliver made sure to buy the tickets in advance, so they wouldn’t have to queue to buy them. First stop was the counter to buy some popcorn, snacks and drinks– his treat, of course. He’d never let a girl pay unless well, she insisted– he didn’t really mind being treated by his date either and so they chose a popcorn bucket to share, some chocolates as snacks and sodas.

Truth to be told, Oliver wasn’t entirely sure of the idea of choosing a horror movie for their first movie date night ever as he was quite the scaredy cat– Elijah and Jay’s words on his brilliant plan kept replaying on his mind like a broken record. He only hoped Charlotte would cling to him during the scary parts and not the other way around. 

He watched the trailer of the movie prior to the date and he had to admit it didn’t look as scary as he thought, but then again they wouldn’t show the scary parts in a trailer, so he didn’t really know what to expect. The plot revolved around the classic horror premise– family moving to a new house. Ghosts and stuff like that, he thought. Such plot’d been done hundreds of times before, so it shouldn’t be too scary.... right?

But poor Oliver was proved wrong as the movie was scarier than he had initially thought and much to his dismay, Charlotte didn’t seem to be bothered by it in the slightest as she continued to munch on the popcorn quite leisurely while her attention was on the movie. Meanwhile Oliver.... the boy was shitting himself on his seat, trying his very best to appear as the cool boy who was okay with a horror movie but quite honestly, he even pulled the hood of his hoodie down during the scarier parts as a way to shield himself from those scenes.

“Why did I even choose this film, jesus. Oliver you are such a dumbass...” such thoughts filled his mind as he seemed to be stuck, motionless on his seat as he kept cursing himself inwardly as the date wasn’t going as he had planned. His fault really for choosing a horror movie. He was surprised though... at least Charlotte seemed to be enjoying the film.

The second act of the movie got even scarier if possible and poor Oliver had no choice but to cling to his date’s arm without even realizing of it himself, eyes shutting. 

“O-oliver? Are you alright?” Seemingly startled by his sudden action, Charlotte whispered to him, her eyes shifting to set on him instead.

“Yeah yeah... truth is..you see I’m quite the scaredy cat and honestly, sorry for being so blunt but I’m just shitting myself.” He finally confessed to her, gazing at her sweet face, which was slightly illuminated by the dim light of the film. “You must be thinking I’m so uncool and probably regretting even agreeing to it.”

“Not at all... I would never think that of you.... we could have watched something else you know. I wouldn’t even mind as long as I can spend time with you...” her voice was barely above a whisper as she now casted her gaze down in sheer embarrassment from saying such a thing so openly, but it was the plain truth. As long as she could spend time with him, she didn’t really mind what they did. Even nothing at all sounded like a great plan. “Do you want us to leave? I feel bad that you are enduring something you don’t like for me...” 

“I guess I just wanted you to, you know... cling on me like those movies and stuff, but seems it backfired on me.” He admitted, slowly undoing his grip on her arm, although his hand slightly lingered over hers when pulling back. “That would be great actually.” He whispered as they both stood up to make their way out. “Sorry for ruining the film for you though. You seemed quite engrossed. I’m surprised!”

“I guess I don’t really mind that kind of movies? I never jump or anything during the scary parts. I see the appeal of them but it never works on me.” She said with a natural laughter of her own as they finally made it out of the cinema. 

“Again really, sorry for ruining the date! Should we grab a bite or a milkshake? Whatever you prefer, to make it up to you.”

“D-don’t worry, Oliver... I meant what I said about spending time with you, but a milkshake sounds quite like a great plan.”

In his books, the date didn’t turn out as he planned in the slightest and in all honesty, all of his fears came true, but Charlotte was just the sweetest girl and he kept on thinking that more and more and they spent more time together. And hearing from the girls herself that she enjoyed their time together made him happier, made his heart flutter even more. 

The way to the milkshake place was in silence though– the both of them walking side by side enjoying each other’s company as the warm colors of the sunset was slowly taking over the sky above them, setting the perfect atmosphere. It felt only natural when Oliver shyly reached for her hand to take it into his own as their hands had been brushing against each other all the way from the cinema, so to Oliver that was an obvious and clear sign. For Charlotte it was the first time ever she’d held hands with someone and while she felt her heart pounding in her chest, she felt in complete bliss and was happy that Oliver decided to do it. It was a small gesture yet to them it hold a very important meaning– their friendship certainly was taking a romantic turn and Charlotte finally realized she indeed had some feelings towards the male, despite of how confused or even oblivious she could have been at the beginning.

It was certainly the start of something.

[xbreezymeadowsx]

Chibs... an excerpt

A/N: This is an excerpt from a story I’ve been writing. I changed the OC’s name to Y/N just for this bit. Honestly, I’m my own worst critic and pretty much never post my work because I think it could be better and I tend to move onto other stories when I hit a writer’s block and all of my stuff goes untouched for months, sometimes years. But I’ve discovered some amazing writers over the last year or two on various sites but mostly here so I figured it was time I tried to give back to those that have brought me so much joy through their works. So, here’s a filthy little excerpt of some adult fun times from one of my current stories I’ve been bumbling around with.

**************************************************************************************************

Y/N stumbled through the front door with Chibs wrapped around her. They tripped over each other's feet, hands frantically exploring bodies, and their tongues, teeth, and lips clashing roughly. They giggled and snickered at their own antics, feeling like a couple lovesick teens in their tipsy state. They blindly moved into the living room, kicking boots off as they went until Y/N let out a yelp as the pair fell over the arm of the couch. Chibs landed with a huff on the cushions on his back with Y/N on top of him, gripping his kutte to prevent herself from falling to the floor. They burst into a fit of laughter.

"Whoops." Chibs giggled, watching Y/N cackle at the face he made. Whimpering from across the room gained their attention. Roscoe laid on his dog bed watching them. Chibs turned his head to see the mutt and Y/N snatched his face in her hands, pulling him back to her.

"No! Don't look at him!" She cried too late. She groaned when they heard the jingling of the dog's tags as he pranced to the couch and began nuzzling Chibs in the side of his head.

"Aah! Christ!" He shout as the cold, wet nose of the beast snuffled in his ear. Y/N pushed Roscoe's fat head away as Chibs rubbed his ear frantically.

"Lemme take them out and then we can resume this." She gave his beard a playful tug before sliding off of him.

"No, no." Chibs grunt as he followed her to standing. "I got 'em." He slipped his kutte off and handed it to her with a wink. "You go ge' comfortable." Y/N watched Reba and Roscoe eagerly follow Chibs to the back door. She went to hang his kutte on the hooks by the front door when an idea struck her.

When Chibs came back inside and sent the dogs off to their beds, he made sure doors were locked before heading to Y/N’s bedroom where he was sure she’d gone off to. There was a warm glow in the room from the table lamps on either side of the bed which had first drawn his attention when he walked in.

"Hey, handsome." Chibs spun on his heel, his back to the bed and his breath caught. "This comfortable enough?" Y/N teased, biting her bottom lip and looking up at him through her lashes.

"Uh, y-yeah. Tha' looks migh'y com-comfy, Y/N girl." He stuttered as he took in the sight. Y/N wore nothing but small black lacy boy shorts and his kutte. The leather hung almost to her knees. She held the sides of the front open just enough to see her bare torso with a tease of sideboob, most of her breasts hidden behind the kutte. She sashayed across the room to him and ran her hands up his chest before pressing herself against him.

"It's not taboo, is it? Wearing your kutte? I know how important a kutte is to an MC." She asked, suddenly nervous she'd done something bad. Chibs cupped her face in his hands and smiled softly, regaining his composure.

"No, luv. This is... this is perfectly fine. This is good." He rubbed his hands down her bare arms, watching the goosebumps breakout in his wake and took her hands, guiding her towards the bed. "Ya look so sexy in leather." He growled lowly.

"And you," Y/N reached for his shirt and ripped it open, buttons flying and ricocheting off the walls. "look overdressed." She purred, lightly scratching his chest.

"Ya shoul' bloody well fix tha'." He urged before pressing his lips to hers. Chibs yanked his arms free and flung his shirt somewhere while Y/N's hands tugged his belt undone. He broke the kiss to watch her working his jeans open and push them down his legs before he kicked them aside and pushed his kutte off her shoulders. Y/N took his kutte and carefully hung it on the back of her desk chair. When she turned back, Chibs was balling his socks up and adding them to the mess on the floor leaving them both in their underwear. Y/N's eyes zoned in on the prominent outline of his hard and ready cock straining against his black boxer briefs and had to check herself for drool. Chibs chuckled deeply and palmed his member.

"Do ya see wha' ya do ta me, leannan? How hard ya make me?" He husked. He reached out and took her wrist, placing her hand where his had been. Y/N gave him a firm squeeze making Chibs groan softly. He cupped her core in response, pressing the heel of his palm into her clit over her underwear. "Alrea'y so wet fer me. Yer panties are soaked."

"Uh-huh." Was all she could muster up as she stepped closer to him.

"So beau'iful." Chibs whispered as he softly dragged his hands up her torso and cupped her supple breasts, kneading them. He guide Y/N to the bed, urging her to lay down. She did as he wanted and watched as he studied her body, taking in every inch of her. He grinned devilishly as he hooked his fingers into her panties and slowly pulled them down her legs, tossing them aside before crawling onto the bed. He eased her legs apart, laying on his stomach and noisily kissing her inner thighs.

"Filip, please." Y/N muttered, one hand clutching the comforter as the other knotted in his hair.

"Tell me wha' ya wan'." He spoke against her skin, nipping and sucking her flesh everywhere around where he knew she wanted him most. She tugged his hair, trying to move his head where she wanted. "Uh-uh. I wanna hear ya say it." Chibs scratched his beard lightly on her skin just above her most sensitive nub. Y/N let out a high pitched whine.

"Don't tease me!" She huffed. "I want your tongue, your lips, your teeth! Please!" Chibs hummed and leaned towards her yearning pussy. Then he swiftly moved away, making his way up the bed beside her. Y/N whined and jumbled words around in protest until she took in his wicked grin and lust blown eyes.

"Up." A single word command was all it took for Y/N to do as told after seeing the look on his face. Chibs laid back resting his head on a pillow and motioned for Y/N. She shivered when she realized what he wanted and as casually as she could in her excitement, shuffled up to beside his shoulder and carefully moved to straddle his chest. "Good girl." He brought his hands up and caressed her backside, pushing her forward. Y/N moved until her body hovered over his mouth. Chibs inhaled deeply through his nose and sighed. "I bet ya taste as good as ya smell, my love." He tilt his chin up and licked a slow trail between her folds. Y/N quivered and gripped the top of her headboard for support. "Mm, jus' like Ambrosia." Chibs moaned softly.

"Food of the Gods, huh?" She gasped as he leaned up again and lapped at her dripping hole.

"Oh, yes. My Goddess." His deep voice rumbled. The vibrations of the bass in his voice sent thrills up Y/N’s spine and she let her head fall back, moaning towards the ceiling.

“Fuck, Filip. Just like that.” She plead.

“Eyes on me, baby.” He demanded, pulling away. Y/N protest his stopping and looked down at him, her hair falling forward like curtains to hide her face from the rest of the world. She bit her lip at the sight of his facial hair glistening with her excitement. Chibs sucked her swollen clit harshly and nipped it with his teeth as he watched her fight to keep her eyes open and trained on him. He slid one hand down from gripping her ass and swiftly insert a slender finger into her wet heat.

Y/N felt her orgasm building rapidly. When Chibs add a second finger, he crooked them in a ‘come hither’ motion and thrust them roughly. He was hitting just the right spot prompting Y/N to let loose a string of profanities a sailor would blush at. Chibs fingered her through her climax only stopping when he felt her full weight- not that she weighed much without bricks in her pockets- settle on his chin and neck. He helped scoot her down to straddle his chest and admired his handiwork. Y/N was blissed out and attempting to regulate her breathing and heart rate. She glanced down at him and weakly punched his shoulder seeing the cocky grin plastered on her old man’s face. Chibs swat her butt and motioned for her to move. Y/N acquiesce and dropped to the bed beside him with a grunt.

“Still wit’ me?” Chibs inquired with a knowing smirk.

“Shut the fuck up.” Y/N scoffed. Chibs put his hand over his heart and gasped.

“Ya wound me, leannan.” He exclaimed dramatically before moving to get off the bed. “I guess ya don’ wan’ anymore then.” He sighed. Y/N reached out and snatched his wrist before he could stand.

“Now, I didn’t say that.” She remarked before yanking him back to her and giggling mischievously as Chibs cover her body with his own and attacked her neck, ready for the fun to continue well into the early morning hours.

[anotherdndblog]

Fictober Day 14 But Late Tho: 28- “do I have to do everything here?”

Title: Coffee Beans and Silver Strings

Chapter 3: The Gaps In Our Hearts

Words: 1309

Fandom: TAZ Amnesty

Characters/Pairing: Sternclay

Rating: T

Tags: Canon divergence, coffee shop AU, mall AU, Barclay is still bigfoot tho, idiots to lovers

Summary: Barclay continues to pine, Stern works at a certain well-known clothing store

Author's note: I’m obsessed with Sternclay at the moment. 

Link to AO3 

____________________________________

Barclay listened to Stern. Oh, boy, did he listen. He listened for literally his entire lunch break, and then he listened while there were no customers in the shop. But never once did he tire. It was a little strange, listening to Stern’s wild outlandish theories on cryptids and why they stay hidden--but it was almost comforting knowing that people were so far off. If people still thought Bigfoot lived in the woods of California, Barclay was doing a pretty damn good job not being as reckless and stupid as he was in his youth. 

After a while, Stern got embarrassed and started tripping over his words as he stumbled to a halt, realizing that Barclay hadn’t said a thing the whole time--and Barclay found the gesture rather adorable. “Sorry, once I start I really can’t stop…” Stern looked down bashfully, his cheeks growing pink. 

Barclay laughed, but it wasn’t directed at Stern, it was awkward and a little forced, trying to make Stern feel a little more comfortable. “Don’t worry about it. I think it’s pretty cool that you have something you’re so passionate about. The only thing I’m passionate about is coffee,” he joked lightly, a shy smile on his face. 

Stern folded his arms on the table and leaned forward, finding an opportunity to change the subject. He was sitting at the table nearest to the cash register, so he could continue to talk to Barclay when there was the opportunity to do so. It was nearing closing, and Barclay was wiping down the countertops with Aubrey. “Really? Just coffee? There’s gotta be something else.” 

Barclay shrugged. “I mean, I guess I really like cooking, but-” 

“Cooking? That’s awesome! Do you want to be a cook?” 

Barclay laughed slightly. ‘I mean, I kind of am. I make some of the pastries and things we sell here. It’s really just a hobby, though.” 

“Just a hobby? You don’t want to be a cook?” 

Barclay shook his head. “Not really. I like the job I have here.” It’s comfortable, like a safe space, but Barclay didn’t add that. It would be too hard to explain why he didn’t want to work somewhere else, where his bracelet could get damaged or break and his secret would be blasted to all his coworkers. It was nicer to work in a place where people already knew. 

Stern raised an eyebrow. “You don’t dream of working somewhere, I don’t know, not the mall?” Stern leaned back in his chair, fidgeting idly with the strings of his hoodie, and Barclay realized he had never really seen Stern in casual clothing before. He always wore a nicely pressed button-up and slacks, with his hair perfectly gelled. But today, he was wearing a simple grey hoodie and jeans. It was nice to see him more relaxed. Based on Stern’s usual attire, Barclay assumed he worked at somewhere fancy, like the Men’s Warehouse on the east end of the mall. 

And it was then that Barclay realized he didn’t really know where Stern worked. It had never really come up in conversation, and Barclay never asked. Barclay bit his lip and looked away. “Not really. I like it here. And working for Mama is great.” 

Stern blinked several times. “You call your boss Mama?” 

“Yeah, it’s kind of what everyone calls her.” 

“Oh. Ok…” Stern’s face twisted in confusion, and he absolutely had no idea what to say to that. 

Barclay paused in wiping down the counters and leaned over the edge. “Where do you work? Do you like it there?”

“Oh, I’m a manager at a clothing store on the east side of the mall,” Stern said cryptically, but Barclay was just happy that he was correct. Those Men’s Warehouse people were always overdressed--and also incredibly pretentious, not like Stern, but Barclay still got the sense that Stern would fit in with that crowd. Stern looked at his watch. ‘Speaking of work, I have it tomorrow. And I should probably get out of your hair-” 

“Can I steal my coworker for a moment?” Aubrey cut Stern off, grabbing Barclay’s arm from behind and pulling it close. Barclay looked at Aubrey in surprise, but all she did was smile in response. 

Stern blinked in surprise. “Oh, uh, yeah, sure. I’ll just… wait to say my goodbyes?” 

“Yeah, perfect, do that.” Aubrey pulled Barclay away and began whispering to him. “You have to get his phone number! This is your chance!” 

“What? No! I don’t want to ambush him,” Barclay whispered back in a rough tone. 

“Do I have to do everything around here? Barclay! You’ve been pining for this man for months. If you don’t get his number, I will, don’t test me.” Aubrey gestured to Stern, which made it so obvious what they were whispering about. Barclay felt his cheeks warm as Stern looked up from his bag and the two made eye contact before quickly looking away. 

“Ok, ok, alright, I’ll do it. I’ll ask.” Barclay gently pushed Aubrey away, who was grinning profusely. 

“Good boy. I’m going to go to the back for… I don’t know, coffee beans. Good luck!” Aubrey winked and disappeared to the back of the store. 

Barclay took a deep breath and turned his attention back to Stern. “Sorry about that. Uh… it was about tomorrow’s menu…?” 

“You had to whisper about the menu?” 

“It’s very secret. So, uh, listen, I’d really like to hear more about your blog sometime. Is there…” Barclay cleared his throat “...is there somewhere I can contact you, or?” 

There was a twinkle in Stern’s eyes, and his lips parted into a smile. “Are you asking for my phone number?” 

Barclay shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about it. “I suppose I am.” 

“Well, then, it’s your lucky day.” 

Barclay and Stern messaged for the rest of the night after that. Literally, Barclay was glued to his phone. Aubrey teased him mercilessly for it, but Barclay didn’t mind. He felt like his useless flirting was actually getting him somewhere--like maybe he really did deserve to be in a happy, healthy relationship. Even Bigfoot can love, right?

The next morning quickly arrived, and Barclay got to work bright and early to serve Stern his coffee--er, serve coffee to all his customers, who he definitely cared about equally. But at his lunch break, he decided to do something a little out of his comfort zone. 

He decided to go find Stern at work. 

Normally, he wouldn’t be so awkwardly aggressive. He didn’t want to scare Stern off. But the two were really hitting it off, and he wanted to maybe ask Stern to get something other than coffee with him. Like a date. But he didn’t want to do that over the phone. 

So, Men’s Warehouse. He took a deep breath as he stood outside, psyching himself up before going in. This was ok. The worst Stern could say was no, right? And if he said no, Barclay would just leave it alone. It wasn’t like he was a creep or something, right? Barclay took one more deep breath for good measure and stepped inside the store. 

One quick sweep around showed no Stern. So Barclay walked around the store. No Stern. Several other people tried to help him, but he refused. Until he realized that this was a lost cause, and maybe Stern was in the back or something, so he stopped someone. “Hi, um, I’m looking for a Joseph Stern, I think he works here?” 

The employee gave Barclay a confused expression and looked him up and now. “Um, no one like that works here, sorry.” And with that, the employee just walked away. 

Oh. 

Barclay had to collect himself before exiting the store, a million thoughts in his head, but only one was nagging and persistent. 

Why would Stern lie about where he worked?

[the-black-birb]

2. Rekindle [Futakuchi]

Pairing: Futakuchi x Reader

Summary: Futakuchi isn't ready to see you again, but that's not stopping him.

Warnings: foul language, divorced parents, mentions of alcohol and gambling

A/N: thank you miyu for helping me come up with names and my beautiful beta readers for fixing my dumb mistakes <3

pt 1 . [pt. 2] . pt 3

The apprehension of seeing you only sunk in when Futakuchi stood in front of your door, bag at his side and knuckles just about to knock.

He’d spent the past week masterfully avoiding the thought of you. When asked his weekend plans he’d simply deflect (“I’ve got a hot date-” “Oh? Nice, dude!” “-with my volleyball.”) and any time he spent home alone was easily able to distract himself by diving into a new TV show. Effective? Yes. Healthy? Probably not.

But all of that work was for naught because he was still standing here, exactly two o’clock (because although he was never particularly punctual, he was never late when it came to you) standing in front of your door like a fool. His knuckles were turning white with how tightly he was holding his fist. He stared at the red plastic in his hand, adorned with a familiar logo. Why did I buy this? He bemoaned. It was from your favorite ramen restaurant, three blocks away from his home. Why couldn’t I have just gotten something chill like fast food?

Well, it was too late now and every second he wasted the ramen was getting colder. He raised his hand again to knock on your door.

Am I overdressed? He was wearing jeans (fancier than usual, for him) and a pair of beat-up sneakers. He definitely wasn’t giving off “reliable boyfriend” vibes that he was sure he’d need for his upcoming escapade (but did he ever?). Too bad, he couldn’t exactly go home and change.

He raised his hand again to knock.

What if-

“Kenji!”

Futakuchi almost jumped out of his skin when he turned to stare at you, bewildered. You had a wire basket propped against your hip as you stared up at him with a glowing smile. You looked so relaxed it almost got his grip to loosen before he remembered, right, you’re still his ex and this is still incredibly bizarre. But he’d grown in the past few years, and he wasn’t ready to let you unravel him just yet.

“[F/N],” he replied with a lazy drawl. “You’re looking comfortable.” He eyed her up and down, taking in the view. Your getup was simple, a college hoodie pulled over a pair of tight running shorts, but in all the time he’d spent dating you he’d never seen you wear something so cozy. Your mother cared a lot about keeping up appearances, and so even for casual dates, you’d always dress to the nines.

It was a nice change of pace.

“Give me a break, it’s laundry day,” you huffed at him, shooing him away from your apartment door to open it. Futakuchi followed you inside, taking in all of his surroundings.

He hadn’t ever visited you before (he hadn’t even spoken to you!) but the instant he walked in he was shaken to the core with familiarity. Everything screamed you. The art hanging on the walls, the color of the pillow, even the smell of sage made the apartment feel like home. 

Frankly, it made him anxious. Even if you were allowing him inside and letting him sit next to you on the couch, he wasn’t your boyfriend anymore. He wasn’t allowed to indulge in this.

The silence between you makes Futakuchi uncomfortable so he panders, wondering what will catch your attention. “I brought ramen,” he offered, holding up the bag for you to see.

Immediately, your eyes lit up. Guess she recognizes it. 

“Kenji, you shouldn’t have!” you jest, but it doesn’t stop you from grabbing at his hands, eager to get to your lunch. Futakuchi is quietly relieved that it, in fact, is not awkward to bring his ex-girlfriend her favorite food of all time. Glad he got that cleared up.

You start on your food with haste, barely even taking the time to whisper a quiet “thank you for the food,” before you’re chowing down. Futakuchi supposes you don’t have much time to travel the half-hour to the restaurant just for a quick bite, but at least you could’ve warmed it up, right? Whatever, he rolls his eyes, putting it out of his mind.

“Do you even taste it?” he wonders aloud as you devour your meal. You look up at him accusingly but your glare is balanced out by the puff of your cheeks from all the food you’ve stuffed in it. Futakuchi can’t hold back his laughter as your face heats up, but it doesn’t stop you from slurping loudly.

“I can.”

Slurp.

“And it tastes delicious.”

Slurp.

“Is that a problem?”

You swallow the last of it, wiping your face with the back of your hand and looking once again at Futakuchi. Though your eyes are cunning (they’ve always made Futakuchi feel like you were seeing through him rather than what he wanted you to see), they are also familiar and Futakuchi vainly tries to ignore the ache in his chest when he locks eyes with you. Instead, he tries to focus on another part of your face. Your nose, maybe, or your lips (no, definitely not the lips) before he settles on a speck on your cheek.

“Missed a spot,” Futakuchi teases, reaching forward to wipe a pit of garnish from your cheek. It’s only when he’s already pulled back and sees the way your eyes clouded over that he thinks maybe it’s a bad idea to immediately be touching the face of his ex-girlfriend.

Before he has time to apologize or at least look embarrassed, you’ve rushed to your feet and are smiling in a way that doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I’ll grab some tea,” you insist, taking your dishes out of your living room.

As you leave, Futakuchi lets out a sigh he doesn’t know he was holding in and relaxes against your couch. The two of you ended on good terms, he reminds himself, so any tension should be the normal residual worry from not seeing a friend in a long time, right? That’s got to be it, he assures himself until you’re walking in the room again, right in front of him.

And those shorts really are tight and they hug you in the best way possible. They’re short, too, and he wonders if you turn just slightly if he’ll be able to see the strawberry-shaped birthmark on your right-

“My eyes are here, Kenji,” you tease. To his surprise, the possibility of friendly banter has Futakuchi letting down his guard. Friendly banter means the two of you can still exist side by side, without this awkward wall.

Although, there’s nothing friendly about the thoughts of you clouding his mind.

You sit beside him and sip on your tea, offering some to him. He accepts, gingerly taking the cup into his palms. Somehow, everything in your house feels fragile to him.

He sees you swallow and sit up straighter so he follows suit, preparing for the worst, but your words don’t come. For the first time since you called him, he considers the fact that you’re just as nervous about this as he is.

“So,” he decides to try and ease the palpable tension. “How’s the family? Still dysfunctional?” You’d always be painfully honest with him about your ‘situation,’ and he hoped the years you spent apart wouldn’t change that.

You let out a dry chuckle and he feels his shoulders ease. “Kaito,” that’s your brother if he recalls correctly. “Is ridiculously happy. His fiance is a keeper, that’s for sure.” Despite this, there’s something in your expression that says you’re not happy at all. He’s not sure if it’s the way your lips pressed together to make a fine line or the way your brows furrow just slightly, but he gets the feeling that you’re not exactly comfortable thinking about marriage.

“And I’m glad he found that special person for him. But now that the focus is off him, my mother keeps nudging me about tying the knot.”

Bullseye. 

He knows you never really got along with your mother. She kept custody of you and your brother during the divorce, but you’d always held a grudge against her for ending the marriage so abruptly. “They weren’t meant to be, she told me!” you used to shout. “How can there be any meant to be if you don’t even fucking work for it?”

“And that’s where you come in,” you finish, looking at Futakuchi, eyes full of equal parts hope and fear. He simply nods, letting you continue. He wasn’t planning on taking his eyes off of you for a second.

“You don’t need to stick around after the wedding I just need a convincing date so they can ask me about things that matter, like my job and life, instead of who I’m sleeping with,” you try to make an expression that says Futakuchi should laugh as you joke, but the way your hands twist in your lap and your feet keep moving says otherwise.

“I’m not going to run away on you,” Futakuchi assures, placing an affectionate pat on your head. “Just tell me what I need to know.” He doesn’t know why he’s so calm all of a sudden, all of his nerves receding. He supposes seeing you all wound up distracted him from his own worries. Besides, it’s not like this will really hurt either of you.

“So, we need to make sure our stories are the same in case they start asking nosy questions,” you smile and even though you don’t say it everything about you radiates a quiet thank you to Futakuchi’s comforting presence. His lips tug up at the corners.

“What kind of questions?” Futakuchi smirks and he swears he sees your eyes dart away from his before settling in the couch to face him fully.

“What do we do on weekends for dates?” you ask, matching his playful tone.

“Have hot passionate sex,” Futakuchi suggests.

You hit him in the arm playfully, but your smile only grows. “Only after you win volleyball matches,” you counter.

Futakuchi raises an eyebrow at you. “How do you know I still play volleyball.” He gasps mockingly. “Have you been stalking me?” He pretends to forget that after you called him (but before he tried to avoid you), he checked your Instagram and Twitter for the first time in months

“What else would be doing, captain,” you quip, a clever look in your eye that Futakuchi could never forget. He pretends to live in a world where the way you say ‘captain’ doesn’t get him hot under the collar.

“Well don’t you have me all figured out, sugarcube,” is his reply before he stops and his playful act stops. “Am I allowed to call you sugarcube?” In the heat of the moment, he forgets he was supposed to keep all his insecure questions about what is alright to do with an ex-girlfriend to himself and says it out loud for the both of you to ponder.

You got the nickname before he knew anything about your family. At the time, he thought the massive amounts of sugar you put in your tea were because you wanted to die young, and not because the bitter taste reminded you too much of the coffee your dad would sometimes let you drink from his mug when you were younger. In his moment of recollection, Futakuchi also realizes you’ve gotten out of the habit and seem to have put a normal amount of sugar in the tea you’re drinking, to his surprise.

“You probably should,” you settle on, snapping Futakuchi out of his trance. “Wouldn’t it be weird if you didn’t?” Futakcuhi nods, your whole family knew he called you that.

“So who’s going to be at the wedding?” he asks, racking his brain with all the relatives of yours he’s met. One of the (incredibly minor) perks of dating someone with divorced parents was that he got to celebrate three Christmases, one with his parents, another with your mother, and the final one with your father (although he only ever got you for the day after Christmas, he made sure to celebrate like there was no tomorrow). But all the different celebrations also meant the privilege of meeting practically everyone in your family.

You sigh at his questions, and he wonders who could be so bad to get that sort of reaction out of you. Your Aunt Fuyumi? Or maybe your cousin Sora?

“Everyone,” you moan and Futakuchi almost does a spit take.

“Everyone?” he repeats.

You nod your head somberly. “Kaito’s fiance wanted a big wedding and he didn’t know how to say no. It’s going to be chaos,” you whine.

“It’s going to be world war three,” Futakuchi agrees. “I mean, can Makoto and Touma even stand being in the same room as each other?” They were your uncles from opposite sides of the family and after the divorce and one casino trip gone haywire, they were constantly at each other’s throats. You shook your head defeatedly, mumbling a tiny no.

“And Yui-” She was your aunt on your mother’s side but you’d never dare refer to her as such. “Has finally stopped drinking, so don’t be around her with wine,” you explained. You went on to list more uncertainties to be aware and Futakuchi racked all of them away in the back of his mind. He didn’t really mind, it was like gossiping in high school, but with your relatives. Most of what you said he’d already known, anyways, and it seemed to simply help you get it off your chest.

“And finally,” you sighed. “We’re going to have to explain why we’re dating again.” Fake dating, Futakuchi wants to correct you so as not to get his own hopes up, but he doesn’t want to disturb your flow. “They all knew we split up. They were disappointed.” So was I, Futakuchi swallows his words. You two left each other on good terms.

“You came to one of my matches?” Futakuchi suggests and at this point, the two of you have relaxed to the point where you’re lying on either side of the couch, legs a tangled mess.

For the first time since you mentioned your family, your whole face lights up and you shoot up, shocking Futakuchi enough that he almost falls over. “And we fell in love all over again!” He almost wishes it were true. “Perfect!”

Your smile is wide as the two of you work out the details. How you’d watched one of his games, saw him, and knew immediately you needed to contact him. How he’d run for an hour in the pouring rain and thunderstorms (“Do we need to include the rain and thunder? We’re making me desperate, not stupid.” “They already know you’re stupid, Kenji.”) just to see you when you called. And finally, the passionate lovemaking that ensued-

“They don’t need to know about that!” You laughed unhindered and it was the first time that day that you’d look fully and completely like the girl he knew in high school, a little scared and worried but unafraid to live nonetheless.

“That should cover all our bases,” Futakuchi sighed when you’d covered every possible detail that your family could care about. “Now, what color are you wearing?”

You looked at him curiously. “Purple, why?” Had you forgotten he was your date?

“I need to match you,” he says it so seriously that you can’t help from bursting into a fit of giggles, again.

“This isn’t prom!” you exclaim. “Just dress nice.” Despite your assurance, he remembers your mother once again, always concerned with keeping up appearances and dressing your best. He gave you a pointed look.

“I’ll give you a fabric patch so you can get a matching hanky but don’t go insane,” you sigh, standing up to head to your room.

As the reality of what he’s doing sinks in, Futakuchi almost wants to laugh. It’s like those shitty rom-coms you would make him watch where two people end up pretending to date for their own reasons. Except, he was certain there was no falling in love at the end of this road and no magical moment where he’d realize he didn’t want this to be fake at all.

After all, he already knew that.

When you came back with the fabric, he was quick to dismiss himself. “It’s getting late,” he insisted, but it sounded more to him like I’m getting attached. He hadn’t asked if you two would be on talking terms when all of this was over, far too afraid of your answer. “I’ll pick you up an hour before the wedding?” he asked, putting his shoes back on in your entryway.

“Two hours,” you challenged. “So we can go over the details.”

Futakuchi nods, ready to leave and pretend that you don’t exist again when you’re pulling him by the arm into a tight embrace. 

“Thank you, Kenji,” you talk into his neck and he wraps his arms around your waist. He wonders how he can hold you in his arms and still feel so far away from you.

“I’ll make it up to you, somehow,” you promise, pulling away from him.

He wants to tell you that you don’t have to, that he’s just doing it out of the good of his heart. But he knows that’s inappropriate for an ex-boyfriend with an awful personality to say to his ex-girlfriend who still looks so damn good, even when all she’s wearing is a sweatshirt and shorts, so he settles on “sure,” instead.

He can’t even look you in the eyes as he closes the door behind him.

[multific]

The Housekeeper (Part 5)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.5 Part 4

Geralt x Reader

Modern!AU

Summary: You moved to the big city not too long ago. And you became the housekeeper to the handsome bachelor, Geralt Rivia. At first your relationship is purely professional, but what happens when you start developing feelings for him?

 “What do you mean?” you were as calm as ever, your mind couldn’t process what Geralt just told you.

“I meant what I said. I only ever felt like this once, no, that was different, this, you are everything I ever wanted. You are kind, humble and beautiful. The day you came into my life…you changed me. I never had been jealous because of a woman.”

Your mind started to function again.

“Huh?” was all you could make out. You really didn’t know how to react.

“This must be a lot for you.” Geralt said looking down, he looked like he accepted defeat.

“It is… a lot for me to take in. Can I-” you wanted to ask for time, to think about things to think about him. But who were you kidding. You didn’t really need time to think. “How should I say this?”

When Geralt noticed you didn’t reject him, he started moving closer. He slowly backed you into a wall.

You felt his finger touch your cheek and then he pulled your head up by putting his fingers under your jawline. He made you look into his eyes. And you immediately got melted by his golden hues. You always found them weird and sometimes you thought he was wearing contact lenses, but now, as you saw them so close, it was clear, this was his real eye colour.

Geralt started to lean closer and closer to you, you didn’t move an inch, your mind still trying to find out if this is reality. You failed to notice that Geralt has closed both his eyes and the distance between you two.

He placed his lips onto yours in a sweet kiss. You barely felt it and he already pulled away.

You don’t know what came over you. Suddenly you pulled him close to you and gave him a feverish kiss which he immediately reciprocated. His hands were on your hips quickly, as your were in his hair, pulling on his hairband to let his beautiful locks out. Once you did, his hair dropped and some stands touched your face. It was a nice sensation, and it tickled a little.

Your kissing soon turned into a full make out session. You had to pull away to get some air but Geralt didn’t approve of that. He groaned and leaned in to kiss you again but you pulled away, turning your head to the side so his kiss would land on your cheek. Geralt didn’t like that, he wanted your sweet lips, but he soon found your neck.

“D-Don’t leave a mark.” you told him but you could tell he wasn’t listening. So, when you felt like he was leaving a mark, you pushed him away slightly. It took you quite the effort to do so, since he was such a broad man.

“Please.” you didn’t know that Geralt was actually begging you to not push him away, you thought he wanted to leave a mark on your neck, which you cannot allow him to do.

At that point you didn’t know just how broken inside he really was. At that point you didn’t know you will be the one for him, the one to save him from his loneliness. At that point all you did was hug and kiss him more.

And as you kissed his hands began to wonder all over your body. Once again, you pulled away.

“Take me on a date first, Mister Rivia. Then you might get handsy with me.” you said while he looked into our eyes. Mesmerized by your beauty.

“Date-Yes. Okay, when? Where?...” He looked confused. You couldn’t help but think that you made Geralt confused.

“How about dinner tomorrow? Are you free?” he finally managed to ask once he collected his thoughts.

“Sure, here?” you asked referring to his home.

“Yes. I will go and pick you up from your home.”

“Oh.”

“You looked disappointed, Y/N. Did I say something wrong?”

“No, it’s just my home… is not as nice as yours.”

“Like I care. I fell in love with you because it’s you, I don’t care about your financial status.” he said smiling at you. A real heart-warming smile. You never thought you will be able to see Geralt smile like that let alone be the reason to it.

“Then tomorrow.” you said giving him one more kiss before pulling yourself away. He followed you like a puppy as you picked up your coat and bag along with your shoes.

“I will text you the time tomorrow morning, if that’s okay.”

“Fine by me.”

“Actually, what am I doing?” you started to worry he just realized he confessed to his housekeeper and was about to take it back. “I’ll drive you home.”

And he did. He drove you in one of his very expensive cars, you were afraid to change the radio, the fear of that you might break the car somehow.

“That’s me.” you said pointing at a regular apartment building.

“Let me park somewhere.” When Geralt wanted to get out of the car you stopped him.

“I don’t know if you want to leave such a car unattended. This isn’t a bad part of the city, just…you know. People are not used to these.”

“Don’t worry. I can always buy a new car.” he said getting out of the vehicle.

Geralt walked you to the entrance of the building.

“I will come and pick you up. I assume you don’t work tomorrow.”

“Oh? And how do you know that?” you asked smiling at him.

“I might know your employer.”

You could only smile and offer him one last kiss before you said your goodbyes.

***

The next day, you spent about three hours getting ready for your date.

You picked out your best clothing did your hair and make up. Even if you were just going to spend the night at Geralt’s home, you still wanted to look impressive and further make him fall for you. You chose an elegant yet still comfortable shirt with some tight jeans and elegant shoes.

And so when your doorbell rang, you were ready.

You went down and there he stood in casual clothing.

“Oh, I feel overdressed.”

“No, you look amazing.” He placed a kiss onto your cheek and walked you to his car. But this time, he didn’t drive. He was sitting with you at the back of his Rolls Royce while a chauffeur drove the expensive car back to his house.

“You really look breath-taking, Y/N.”

“Thank you very much. You look quite nice as well.” You could feel the awkwardness in the air. “So, what did you plan?” You asked in hopes of lightening the mood.

“Well, I have to tell you that I just called Marie and you are no longer my housekeeper.”

“What?”

“I can’t have my girlfriend work for me!”

“Girlfriend?”

“Well, only if you want to be.”

“Hmm. You will have to wait until the end of our date to get an answer to that question.”

“Fine by me.”

The car came to a stop and the chauffeur called out.

“We are here, Sir.” Geralt opened the door and got out, you wanted to do the same but your door got opened before you could. The chauffeur was holding the handle as he stood behind the door.

“Ma’am.” he said.

“Thank you.” you offered the kind man a smile and as Geralt got to your side, you walked off with him.

You were used to being in Geralt’s presence, even having dinner with him. But this time was different.

He was more laid back, he let his true self show, and you loved it. You loved seeing him be this comfortable with you.

He told you many stories about him and Jaskier. Some you already heard from Jaskier, but you didn’t tell that to Geralt he was so into the story. Although Geralt was a big and manly man, at those times, he looked adorable.

You talked more openly about yourself than before. Now, you were his date, previously you were only company for him after his day was over.

Then suddenly after what felt like hours, you looked at your watch and noticed how much time has passed.

There was silence.

You waiter for Geralt to say or do something. It was obviously the end of the date, yet he seemed like he didn’t want it to end, so as he took a sip of his wine, you looked at him and said.

“Yes.”

“Hm?”

“Yes, I will be your girlfriend.”

Geralt suddenly remembered at the beginning of the date he asked you, but during the time you spent together, he completely forgot about it. Maybe it was nervousness or happiness, he didn’t know.

A smile creeped onto his face. He looked so genuinely happy it made you smile.

“Thank you.” was all he could say.

And finally, Geralt saw a little bit of light in his lonely life.

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The Housekeeper Masterlist

[k0gamis]

Temptation ➝Shinkane Week 2019 Day 4 ➝WC: 7225 / Rating: explicit

Upon his return to the country, Akane visits an old friend to get drinks and catch up.

***

22:19

The mesmerizing lights of Tokyo are one of the things Akane loves the most about the city. At night, when the ink of night backdrops the towers and buildings that each forge a shape unique to every onlooker, she feels the lights are especially dazzling. 

She’d been enamored with the faux magic since her first drive through the city at night, when a last-minute interview for the CID awaited her in the morning, prompting an unexpected trip from her home in Chiba. She remembers the long breath she drew as her eyes settled on the skyline for the first time, watching the buildings shift around each other as the car drove on. She remembers wondering which building would be her hotel and what excitement she had to look forward to once she moved to the city for good; it was not unlike now, except the hotel she searches for in the distance is not hers, and she finds herself admittedly far more nervous than excited this time around.

The car drives automatically, which is unusual for her; Akane enjoys driving and normally likes to switch off the auto-pilot setting. But from time to time, especially at times like these, where her mind feels somewhere else and her eyes wander aimlessly outside the window, she lets the car drive itself.

She approaches the hotel as the car pulls into the parking lot, and Akane’s stomach does a flip. Her gaze flits between lit windows, counting up the rows until she hits floor number six. One of them belongs to room #644, and knowing him the curtains are likely closed, drawn open only enough so that his eyes can briefly dart outside to watch cars zip by on the freeway in between paragraphs of the book he’s reading.

When she steps off the elevator onto the sixth floor, her heart beats with the rhythm of her footsteps--perhaps even faster--as she follows the signs. Her fist raises, clenching once to squeeze out the nerves, then knocks twice and takes an anxious step back when the door opens.

He’s wearing a black bomber jacket that covers a white collared shirt tucked into dark jeans, somewhat reminiscent of the casual style he donned his formalwear all those years ago. She relaxes the second she catches his eye, feeling her shoulders unclench and the corners of her lips turning up; what had she been so nervous about?

He doesn’t offer the greeting of a normal person, and instead steps to the side so she can enter.

“You’re a bit overdressed,” he says, his voice as rough and calloused as ever. She missed the sound of it. “But you look nice.” 

“I came from a dinner party in Chiba,” she explains. Chiba was almost an hour away, leaving no time to change, though she would hardly classify a black pencil skirt and a white ribbed turtleneck as overdressed. She doesn’t argue, and lets him take her coat to hang it in the closet.

The room is small, contemporary, with one bed, a desk with a swivel chair, and a small black chaise in the corner where a paperback book sits open but facedown. The decorations are sleek and modern, brightening the space considerably. A mirror taking up the wall alongside the bed makes the room feel bigger than it looks. She was right about the curtains.

He seems uncomfortable the further into the room they venture. Or perhaps awkward was a better word.

“There’s a bar downstairs,” she says, and that’s all she has to say. Soon she’s back in the elevator and sitting across from him in a dimly-lit booth, ordering a margarita.

“This place seems a little fancy to be holed-up in,” she says casually. “It doesn’t really suit you.”

“It wasn’t my choice,” he says. “And you’re right. The room feels stuffy.”

She giggles a little to herself, as she was thinking he would say something like that. It’s nice to know he hasn’t changed.

“How do the scanners work?” she asks. “Has your hue…?” She isn’t sure how to word her question, how to ask if his psycho pass has improved at all, especially since she is doubtful that it has. But she can’t think of another explanation for how he’s able to be placed here and walk around unsupervised, or to enter the bar without flagging the scanners.

He points to his skull with a single finger, similar to the shape of a gun. 

“It’s classified,” he says. 

“You can’t tell me?”

“It means I can’t be scanned without permission.”

“They’re placing an awful lot of trust in you to not cause trouble,” she says. He chuckles.

“Still not holding back your harsh remarks, I see.”

Before she can think of a response, their drinks are set down in front of them, Akane’s margarita glass standing tall above his scotch. She takes a tentative sip, watching as he downs a couple gulps without haste, nor does he grimace from the sultry taste.

“How are you?” she asks, her voice lowering. He stares into the contents of his glass, held by his fingers at the rim. The last time she’d seen him he wasn’t terrible, satisfied with distracting himself amidst guerilla operations and tactical advising. But satisfied doesn’t translate to being well, and based on one of their final conversations, he hadn’t seemed all that well at the time.

“I’m alright,” he says finally. It’s hard to get a read on him, to see how much of him is telling the truth. He notices the look of concern on her face despite her attempts to mask it. “Really. I am.”

“Have you thought about receiving psychological care?” she asks, not yet sold. 

“I’ve contemplated.” 

“That sounds like a no, then.”

“I’m still exploring my options. I only got back in the country a couple days ago.”

“Yes, I’m sure Poe’s poetry has all sorts of resourceful information about your options.” He smirks at her remark over his glass.

“Are you familiar, then?” he asks.

She shakes her head regrettably. “Not as well as I should be. I do more tactical reading these days.”

“You can borrow it if you’d like.” 

She smiles softly around the salt on her glass. “I’m tempted, but I’m not sure when I’d be able to return it.”

He shrugs. It’s not like she’d be on a deadline, since he isn’t going anywhere now. That much has yet to completely stick with her. It is almost too good to be true, that she has difficulty believing it at times. He had been away for so long, and even then she’d only known him for a few months prior to his disappearance. It feels unreal for him to be anything but gone. 

Did she even have the right to think of him as much as she did all these years, when she’d only known him for such a short amount of time in comparison?

“Why Chiba?” he asks, breaking her from her thoughts.

“What do you mean” she asks.

“Your dinner party.”

“Oh,” she says, her voice turning surprisingly sour. “It was for a school reunion.”

“You don’t seem too thrilled to have gone.” He finishes off his drink and waves a bartender over.

“Well Chiba isn’t exactly nearby,” she explains. “And then having to explain the death of your best friend to everyone who hasn’t heard over and over and…” She pauses, mostly because the bartender steps into earshot near their table, but also because she needs to collect the rest of her thoughts. She hasn’t yet finished her margarita but asks for a second anyway while he’s there, and finishes speaking once he’s gone to prepare their order. 

“Of course there were people who she knew who couldn’t come to the funeral, and some people who just didn’t know it happened at all, but there was an overwhelming amount of reactions that just seemed…” Her voice hangs in the air for a moment as she searches for the right word.

“Insincere?” he offers.

“Yes,” she says. “Exactly. It became all anyone wanted to talk about.”

“That sounds exhausting.” 

The way she swishes down a few gulps at once rather than the polite sips she’d been taking told him he’s right. Then she continues on, mentioning how one of her old classmates in particular was someone she has the misfortune of knowing more than she’d like to. He watches her finish the rest of her drink and wonders what she means by that. An ex-boyfriend, perhaps? Or was he simply fabricating reasons to project onto his dislike of this individual, other than by the way she spoke of him?

“He dated Yuki for...I’m not sure, a month, maybe?” she says, immediately dissolving his hypothesis and leaving him feeling foolish. “They broke up around the time we took our placement exams. Back then he found it just intriguing how he and I were the only two to score an A ranking for the Ministry of Commerce, which he brought up again tonight and wouldn’t shut up about it. That, and his absolutely incredibly well-paying job as a financial consultant.” 

She rolls her eyes and immediately reaches for her second drink once they’re dropped off at their table. He can’t help but feel amused watching her speak. It seemed his hypothesis wasn’t that far off. 

She seems to notice his gaze intent on her but misreads it, by the way she suddenly sits up straight, as though she’s caught herself doing something she isn’t supposed to be doing.

“I’m sorry,” she says, giving him a bashful smile. “I’m blabbering on about it. I’ll stop.”

Kogami shrugs. He isn’t bothered. He’s the one who asked in the first place.

“If you need to rant about slimy bastards who can’t take a hint, then you should rant,” he says simply, flashing her half a grin. She lets out a curt, breathy laugh, though she still looks apologetic. “Dude’s way out of his league, anyway. Doesn’t seem like your type in the slightest.”

“And just what do you know about my type?” She narrows her eyes inquisitively at him over the rim of her glass, hiding her lips behind it.

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I know you’re not into someone with a boring office job, or incapable of holding an even remotely stimulating conversation, and definitely not someone shorter than you.”

For a moment she looks puzzled, and then her face softens into a curious smile. “Your profiling skills are as sharp as ever.”

He can’t tell if she’s referring to herself or to Mr. Financial Consultant, or maybe both, but he shrugs off the compliment anyway.

“Anything else exciting or otherwise noteworthy?” 

Her eyes roll a second time, like the mere act of giving thought to these previous events was as annoying as experiencing them.

“He invited me to his apartment so I could talk more about the tragedy if needed,” she says. The way her voice hardens on one particular phrase, coupled with the lingering traces of anger in her eyes, makes him want to subvert the topic.

“So how did you give him the slip?”

“I told him I had a date to get going to,” she says simply. He nearly chokes on his drink. The gentle rose rising to the tops of her cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed.

He doesn’t remember choosing to lean forward, but then his arms are crossed on the table in front of him and there’s noticeably less distance between them.

“Is that what this is?” he asks.

“Would you call it something else?”

He keeps his gaze fixed on hers, looking for any hints of hesitancy, uncertainty, or even a trace of humor, yet he finds none of that. She stares back at him blankly; it’s a genuine question, and she expects a genuine answer.

“I guess not.” 

He studies her again, but differently this time--as though he’s letting himself truly look at her for the first time in a long time, which he is. Her face is no longer curved with juvenile softness like the first day they met; instead it’s been replaced with hardened edges, with stories he’s yet to listen to. Her eyes have grown more intimidating than ever, though she holds in them a gentleness that hasn’t faded in the slightest.

“Is there something on my face?” she asks. She brings a hand up to touch her cheek subconsciously. 

“No,” he answers. Then he notices she is shivering. “Are you cold?”

Her composure shifts suddenly, like she hadn’t even noticed that she was, in fact, cold, until he said something.

“A little,” she says. She glances up to the ceiling, finding an air vent positioned directly above their table. Just her luck; purposefully picking the booth furthest off to the side had to have some sort of drawback. 

When she turns her attention back to him, he’s shrugging out of his jacket.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-” But of course, because he’s him, he ignores her protest and passes it over the table. She hesitates, but takes it anyway, thanking him quietly. When she slips her arms through the sleeves, it’s warm and smells like his cigarettes. It’s surreal to find his scent somewhere other than her ashtray.

“Aside from all of that,” he says, referring to her less-than-pleasant dinner party, “how are you?”

“I’m doing fine,” she says. “Though I feel like I’ve talked about myself too much.”

“I don’t mind,” he says.

“I want to hear one of your stories,” she insists. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty to pick from.”

“You’re putting me on the spot,” he says. “Now it’ll be hard to think of one.”

“Did you meet anyone special?” she asks. 

“What do you mean by ‘special?’”

“Like interesting, noteworthy, quirky, I don’t know. Someone with a story.”

He has to think for a moment, though it looks as though he’s contemplating what he wants to tell rather than searching for something to say.

First he tells her of the few temporary comrades he traveled with after leaving SEAUn, who were mostly mercenaries like him skating by and keeping a low profile. She chuckles to herself as she tries to picture him , of all people, keeping a low profile, which she then explains once he questions her reaction. He laughs along with her briefly, but it doesn’t last long.

His eyes change when his story shifts, and he tells her of a young girl he met named Tenzing. He doesn’t tell her much. His story focuses more on the act of saving a bus full of refugees from armed guerillas--which, to her, sounds a lot more like him than in the previous tale--and how he was followed by the young girl, who’d been on the bus, to seek self defense training. 

He tells her she was a cheerful, enthusiastic child with a lot of passion and promise, and that he agreed to train her because she was an orphan of war, and that he felt sorry for her. He pauses there, and she can see the sadness hardening his eyes like steel. She can tell that there is more to the story, but he seems hesitant to continue. So she gives him an out.

“Sometimes I wonder if kindness is actually your true weakness,” she muses aloud. 

That takes him aback. “As opposed to something else?”

“I would have said fear before, but now I might be thinking differently.”

He leans back against the booth cushion and studies her with a calculating eye, crossing his arms over his chest. “You must think you have me all figured out, then, right?”

“Is it rude of me to say that I think I do? To a degree at least?”

“It’s not so much rude as it is ballsy,” he says.

She laughs, but goes on to explain her reasoning. “I’ll admit, you puzzled me when we first met,” she says. “I couldn’t figure you out for awhile.”

“That’s funny,” he interjects. “I used to feel the same about you.”

“Do you think you have me all figured out, too?”

“More or less. To a degree,” he adds with a smirk. “Though I’m not as confident as you seem to be.”

“What it comes down to is an understanding of someone’s character,” she says. It took her a long time to figure that out, though she hadn’t figured it out all on her own. “When you understand their character, you can understand their reasoning behind most things.”

“And when you understand reasoning, you can make all sorts of inferences,” he finishes. “That’s what you were going to say, right?” 

She nods. She gives him a curious smile, seeing the gears turn in his head. She wonders what he’s going to say next.

“Put your theory to the test, then,” he challenges, throwing back the last of his drink and setting the glass down at the end of the table. “If you have me all figured out, tell me what you think my type is.”

It’s her turn to be taken aback, and she feels her cheeks grow warm. She avoids his eyes, at first wondering why this prompt of all things, then supposes it’s his way of making up for poking fun at her regarding the same topic earlier. Either way, she decides to humor him.

“You’re similar to me,” she says thoughtfully, “you prefer someone intellectually stimulating. Monotony bores you, so you like someone who can keep you on your toes--but not someone too reckless, even though that’s rather hypocritical, if you ask me.” He chuckles at the abrupt drop in her tone, riddled with vexation, before she continues. “You have a very protective nature, so you prefer someone that you can easily protect. But you also like when someone has a strong sense of self and can be assertive when they need to be. There’s a complicated balance there, but the right person won’t make it complicated.”

He takes a long moment to consider everything when she finishes.

“I’d give that about an eighty-five percent accuracy,” he says finally. “Maybe ninety.”

“Did I miss something?”

“You didn’t mention anything about physicalities.”

“You’re not materialistic; you value intellect more than anything. I didn’t think things that are particularly important to you.”

“Not most things, but some things.”

Now she’s the one who doesn’t remember leaning forward. “Like what?”

He mirrors her instinctively, with a peculiar repressed grin on his lips--almost coy. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“You’re the one who mentioned it,” she shrugs. She distracts herself by sipping on what was left of her drink.

“Was I?”

She backtracks when she pauses to recall the exchange just a moment before. “It was more of a group effort,” she decides. “But either way, I wouldn’t consider physical preferences as something that can be deduced by one’s character.”

“All right then,” he says. “I take it back. I’ll give you ninety-five percent accuracy.”

“What about the other five?”

“You really don’t settle for less than perfect scores, do you?” 

She laughs, because he’s right, yet she fixes a look on him that tells him she isn’t backing down until she hears his answer. Always so persistent and thorough. He sighs.

“It would be inappropriate to say,” he says quietly, and he almost feels bad for the urge to chuckle he has when the rose hue returns to her complexion. She finishes her drink then scoots the empty glass to sit discarded beside his.

“Is it because you’re shy?” she asks. There’s a ghost of a challenge in her tone that he’s positive he isn’t imagining. He no longer feels bad. 

He chooses his next words carefully.

“It’s...more of a conversation that would be better had upstairs.” 

For a moment, the air between them is stiffer from his implications hanging heavily in it. It takes her a second to process his words, and then she seems to process them a second time to have them finally click, cued by her eyes widening just slightly. Before she responds to him, she checks the time via the terminal on her wrist. He’s surprised by how strongly he anticipates her answer, by how his heart beat with a more vigorous rhythm in his chest than it was just moments before.

“I’m tempted, but,” she says, following her words with a sigh, and he already knows what comes next. “It’s getting late, and I have plans in the morning. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, waving away her apology. Her unwavering sense of responsibility hasn’t changed either, it seems. His ego isn’t bruised by any means. The admittance of temptation alone is enough to satisfy him. 

“Perhaps when you find time to return the book, you won’t be visiting too late,” he says. 

“I’ll make sure to leave the following morning open, too,” she says, offering him a smile before she gets up to pay the bill.

Back upstairs, she swaps his jacket for her coat, and even though hers is thicker and more suited for the wintry gusts swirling outside, it’s not nearly as warm. She takes Poe from his outstretched hand and tucks it into her purse, and from there she isn’t sure how to bid him goodnight. She feels a desire to do something, but nothing fitting comes to mind. He doesn’t offer anything other than holding the door open for her.

As she steps through the door, she assures him she will call a taxi instead of driving herself home, and promises she will come say hello in the morning when she returns for her car--if he’s awake, that is--and then he returns her ‘goodnight’ as she makes her way down the hall.

She listens for the sound of his door closing as she approaches the elevator, but she doesn’t turn around even though she never hears it. 

Once down in the lobby, she makes her way to the front door with a taxi service pulled up on her cell phone. On her way, she passes by the bar she was just sitting in a few minutes ago. A smile dances on her lips, warming her from head to toe. It may be the most recent, but this memory is definitely the one she’s most fond of, even if it was rather fleeting in comparison to the others.

And then something about that thought makes her stop in her tracks, just a short distance from the revolving door. Her thumb hovers over the button she’s just pressed, promising a momentary pick-up, but her eyes are fixed on the cancel button in the corner.

Does she really have to leave so soon? She hadn’t seen him in over two years, and she’s already leaving with no definitive plans to see him again after what, less than an hour? That hardly seems fair in comparison.

She turns back to the bar, and from where she stands, peering into the open space, she can see the table where they sat. The bartender is only just now collecting their used cups, preparing to wipe down the table, and she remembers the way his hand curled around the base of his glass when he drank, how his fingertip drew circles around the rim when he spoke, how his eyes shone in a way that matched his glass reflecting the light fixtures above when he gave her an implied invitation back upstairs. 

Perhaps it’s the two margaritas to blame, but she quickly hits ‘cancel’ before she can stop herself. And then she’s walking back into the bar to the counter, and purchases a bottle of Cabernet while she types up a message to Kaori. She hits send, takes back her card and freshly unsealed bottle, and makes her way back to the elevator.

He’s just finished undoing the last button of his shirt when there’s an unexpected knock at the door, barely audible with the shower running. He leans past the curtain to twist the knob, shutting off the water. As he makes his way to the door, he wonders if it’s Akane, but he knows she didn’t forget anything; or maybe it’s a housekeeper, though it seems a bit late for that.

When he opens the door, he’s surprised to see Akane standing before him, holding up a bottle of Cabernet with a look of question in her eyes. They drop briefly to his midsection, then flit back up to his face just as quickly as they fell.

“This isn’t a taxi,” he says, leaning against the door frame. He can see her throat contract when she swallows.

“I don’t need one,” she asserts.

He suppresses a grin and steps to the side, closing the door behind her. She slips off her shoes and drops her purse to the small table next to the closet.

“What happened to your morning plans?” he asks, taking from her the wine bottle as well as her coat. He holds onto the back of the collar while she slips herself out of it.

“I pushed them back,” she says. “Did I interrupt something?” She gestures to his shirt, which still hangs open from his shoulders.

“Just a shower.” With her coat hung properly in the closet, he slides the door shut.

“Well don’t let me stop you,” she says, offering a kind smile. “I can wait.”

“You sure?”

She nods, then pulls the book of poetry from her purse as he turns and heads back into the bathroom, after tossing the bottle safely onto the bed. She can hear the water switch on through the closed door while she surveys the room, and reaches around her neck to remove her necklace.

A small stack of paper cups sit beside a coffee maker on the desk. They aren’t technically proper, but they work just fine for casually drinking wine. She pours herself a small amount, leaving her necklace and earrings on the desk, and curls up on the chaise with his book.

Kogami is quick; by the time Akane reads through only two pages, she hears the sudden absence of pouring water followed by the screech of shower curtain rungs being pulled to the side. She pauses her reading, sipping Cabernet from her paper cup, and decides to wait for him before she continues.

His hair is still wet when he sits down beside her, and he wears the same clothes as before, only his shirt is buttoned rather lazily. The top of his chest is exposed, and she has a nice view of his collarbone. She briefly wonders before deciding with suspicious certainty that he’s done it very much on purpose.

He glances down to read the page where she holds the book open.

“‘Annabelle Lee’ is one of my favorites,” he comments, before swallowing a rather generous amount of liquid from his own cup.

“Really?” she asks. “That’s a bit of a surprise to me.”

“What do you think of it?” he asks.

“I like it,” she says, “but I think I’d like it more if you read it aloud.” He gives her a perceptive smile, obliging, and he dumps back the rest of his wine impressively fast so he can take the book from her hands after discarding the cup to the floor. He invites her to lean into him, draping his arm behind her shoulders across the back of the chaise. She does, with a warm fluttering in her stomach, and curls her legs up onto the seat underneath her, resting her head comfortably against his shoulder.

As he reads, Akane finds that the poem is significantly better read in his voice, which is low and rough, compared to reading it in her head. Something about the rugged resonance of his voice telling the tale of a love so strong and intense that it makes angels envious, a love that ultimately suffers the tragedy of death, brings it to life, as though his voice alone could sculpt the tale into reality. 

He turns the page and continues to read, and she listens. Her eyes follow along with the words as he reads them aloud, and she sips on Cabernet until her cup is empty and she holds it lazily with both hands in her lap.

Eventually, the sound of his voice coaxes her eyes to relax, and they flutter closed. Before long, Kogami notices, and he pauses, craning his neck forward to inspect.

“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” he asks. She hasn’t, and her eyes open. Having his answer, he pulls back.

“No,” she answers anyway. “It’s just nice to hear you read.”

“You didn’t come back just to listen to me read.” It comes out as both a question and a statement, but she stiffens nevertheless when she feels his breath tickle her ear. She can feel his eyes on her, studying her, reading her reaction, and she wants to return his gaze, but she can’t bring herself to look away from the book in his lap.

She can speak, at the very least.

“What did I come back for, then?” she asks. Her words come out sounding stronger than she feels. She wants to say more, to help steer the conversation like she had absolutely no problem doing when she sat across the table from him earlier, but the warm shape of his body against hers is incredibly distracting. Her eyes study the shape of his hand, the bridges of his fingers as they rest on worn pages. She wonders what they feel like.

“A stimulating conversation, maybe,” he muses. His voice is lower than normal, and she can still feel his breath on her ear, and his arm draped behind her edges noticeably closer until she feels it against her back and his hand cups her shoulder.

“You are good at those,” she says through a shaky breath. She notices a small movement in the corner of her eyes so her gaze flits to it, and she finds herself eyeing the zipper of his pants.

“So I’ve heard.” Her cheeks start to feel warm.

“I liked the one we were having downstairs,” she manages. Kogami slowly closes the book, but continues to hold it in his lap.

He hums with feigned confusion, and though she cannot see his face, she can hear the smirk he’s undoubtedly wearing. “You’re going to have to refresh my memory.”

“We were talking about weaknesses,” she says, and as she speaks he moves the book to drop on the floor.

“We never did talk about yours, did we?”

She doesn’t know why, but she laughs. Maybe it’s because she’s feeling on edge, anticipating what comes next, and didn’t think this would be it.

“I really don’t know what it is,” she says with uncertain honesty. She watches as his hand reaches for hers, plucking the empty cup from them and discarding it to join the book. “Sometimes I think I’m too cold-hearted.”

This time Kogami is the one to laugh. The sound of it bursting from his chest melts away some of the tension in her shoulders.

“What makes you think that?” he asks.

“Because my psycho-pass doesn’t cloud.”

“That’s the last word I would use to describe you,” he says, replacing the hole left gaping in her hands with his own. It’s big and warm and fits perfectly between hers, and holding it gives her a sudden rise of insurmountable courage, as though it were a chink in his armor that she can cling to for purchase. She turns her body just slightly so she can look up at him comfortably, and his hand moves from her shoulder to hover just over the back of her neck.

“How would you describe me, then?” she asks, hoping to turn the conversation to her favor. He mirrors her, pulling a leg up onto the seat so he can face her too.

Despite her effort, Kogami is impossible to catch off guard.

“Intellectually stimulating,” he says thoughtfully, and though he doesn’t smile, there is an unmistakable hint of amusement in the corners of his lips. “Maybe you can be a little reckless, but you work with caution. You’re careful and thoughtful. You’re small-” and when he says this, a charmed smile bleeds through his expression despite his efforts to suppress it, “-easy to protect. And you’re an independent thinker. You aren’t afraid to do things your own way. And you’re complicated, but in the best way.”

When he finishes, her cheeks are uncomfortably warm and he’s leaning a lot closer than he was before. She does, admittedly, feel touched upon hearing his words, but despite that, her eyes are wide and taken aback. It’s not verbatim, but he’s just repeated her words from earlier to describe her, and it’s a substantial pill for her to digest.

Still, brave words leave her mouth before she even realizes she is speaking.

“I give that a ninety-five percent,” she says, countering him, her tone incongruent with her demeanor. She’s tense, and she grips his hand to keep hers from trembling. He notices.

“That last five percent is making you nervous,” he observes aloud. His voice, though low and rough, somehow has an easing effect with an unusual gentleness. Maybe it’s the fact that he can read her like a book and she doesn’t have to say it that makes her relax, even if it’s only miniscule.

“A little,” she admits. He surprises her when he takes one of her hands and raises it, her eyes following out of curiosity.

“Don’t be,” he says to her skin. “It’s just me.” A kiss to the back of her hand sends an excited flutter rippling through her nerves, raising the hair on her arms as her heart leaps in her chest so loudly that she’s she he can hear it.

He is right, and she’s fully aware of it. She knows she shouldn’t be nervous around him. There exists nobody else in the world that she trusts more than the man kissing her hand, holding her in the ghost of an embrace.

“Although there’d be no hard feelings if you got that taxi after all.”

It is this moment that secures her in place. He’s giving her an out, before they walk over the line that cannot be uncrossed. A line of which she has never strayed across before, not with anybody, ever, nor has it even been as close as it is now, just under her fingertips, encircling her with a tempting hand teasing the back of her neck and a knee guarding her in place. 

Perhaps what makes her tremble is the stark unfamiliarity of senses heightened contrasting with how drawn she is to him, how she longs for nothing but to undo the rest of his buttons and lose herself in what comes after.

It’s sweet, but the idea of leaving now is simply laughable. Her hand travels to his thigh, gripping it with silent reassurance.

Her eyes, wide and brown and eager, say it even louder. His are stormy, and in them she can see the way his heart pounds mercilessly just as hers does, and yet there’s a coolness smoothing his slate sky into something tameable.

Control, she realizes, and she wonders in an instance like this what he’s like without it.

His long hand finally settles at the base of her neck, warm and ever present through the thin layer of her sweater. Her own hand falls from his grip to melt into the crook of his elbow as he moves to capture her jaw instead, and she practically pulls herself towards him by his thigh as he leans into her, until their lips meet and she’s delighted to find his are much softer than they look.

She’s pulled into his lap within moments, his hand cradling her underside and trapping her in place, though she hardly minds. Her fingers fumble awkwardly with the buttons of his shirt, pushing it open as far as his shoulders will allow once she frees him of the garment, her polished nails grazing his skin as she drags her hands up his neck to cup his jaws, holding him close as he kisses her furiously.

He breaks the kiss only to slip her sweater up over her head, and the second she’s free he captures her lips again, forcing them apart with his. His tongue, she finds, is just as soft and inviting as his lips.

Distracted, she doesn’t take much notice of his collection of her wrists, as he gently pulls each of them behind her back until he locks one hand ensnared tightly around them. She jumps at this, faltering from his lips, and rests her forehead against his, still close enough that she can feel his sultry breath warming her face. 

“Too forward?” he asks, and his rough voice is low and just as hot. 

She shakes her head, and she can feel her cheeks glowing with heat; they deepen in color when his eyes narrow curiously and he asks if she rather likes it, to which she nods. And she likes it a lot more when he rewards her honesty with a kiss, but this time he is slower, and more gentle, and as he kisses her his free hand trails down the exposed curves of her body until he’s inching under the hem of her skirt and slowly hiking it up her thigh. 

She shudders when his fingers finally forge their way between her legs, and as he strokes her softly he breathes in every single one of the faint cries that spill from her lips.

“Are you still interested in that perfect score?” he asks, muttering in her ear. To her credit, she gives him a playful smirk despite the distracting treatment he’s giving her in her willfully confined predicament.

“The gentleman would really reveal his secrets to me?” she teases. He pulls back to look at her, shooting her a self-depreciating leer of his own.

“I’m no gentleman,” he says. 

“You are to me,” she counters, meeting his gaze firmly. Looking at her, he can’t say she’s entirely wrong. His hand retracts, and although she can’t see it beneath the fabric of her skirt, her eyes dart down instinctively as if looking to see why he stopped. But just as quickly, he tips her gaze back up to his by the gentle grip of her chin, and he’s smiling at her strangely.

“I wonder why that is,” he says. His stare is warm and inviting, and it leaves her heart fluttering as he leans in, closing the distance between them once more, only his lips are rougher, and more insistent. Then he releases her wrists silently, placing them on his shoulders one at a time, and then he’s standing, lifting her into the air with him. 

He lays her back on the bed, and the lights automatically dim, casting a dull, white glow over them that leaves her bare skin radiant like silver. 

Her skirt is too restrictive, and that’s a problem; before he crawls over her frame, he rids her of it entirely, slipping the black from her silky legs along with her tights. She parts her knees for him eagerly, her lips awaiting his return with heated fervor.

In the dark, it’s easier. Hesitation no longer exists, and neither does the past that kept them apart for so long.

He murmurs in her ear with his hand buried beneath her panties, his touches no longer slow and soft, but fast, and rough with need. She struggles to keep up with him.

“I like someone who wants me to take the lead,” he says gruffly. It takes her only a quick moment to figure out what he’s talking about. “Someone who likes to be submissive.”

She can feel the heat spreading across her face, like his rough voice melts into liquid that drips from his lips to her skin and ignites her all the way down to her core. He lets his words hang in the air for a few long moments, busying himself with leaving wet kisses along her neckline.

When her only response is nothing but breathy gasps, he turns the tables on her instead.

“Why don’t you tell me more about your type?” he goads. Being inexperienced, she doesn’t know how to answer, and his generous attention on her makes it difficult to think. But she likes this, more deeply than she thought she would, so that has to mean something, right?

She blurts it out without meaning to, but it’s not the wrong answer.

“You.”

By the way his lips freeze, lingering just above her skin, coupled by his fingers slowing inside her, she guesses that it was not what he was expecting to hear. For a second, she worries she’s said the wrong thing, came on too strongly, pushed herself too far forward on a weak limb.

Minute traces of panic creep through her fingertips as his hand slips from inside her, but are instantly quelled as he shifts his body completely over hers, and he cups her face with both of his hands. Cracks are starting to form in that smooth gloss masking his storm.

The next kiss is hungry, demanding. He’s quickly losing his will to hold back. His hands can’t sit still, and they trade places between holding her jaw, snaking into her hair, and gently squeezing the side of her neck, his thumbs tracing carefully over her trachea with restraint.  His knees force hers apart, and she works on forcing him out of his shirt despite the mess of his hands, freeing his thick arms for her to grab onto appreciatively for purchase.

He moves back to her neck, twisting her face away with a firm grip of her chin, his palm daring to press deeper into her throat. She gasps at the feeling of his lips, enjoying the subtle pressure of his hand. Her hips start to move, seeking relief for the heated excitement flaring between her thighs, but as quickly as they start, she stops herself. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“It’s okay,” he says softly against her skin. “Don’t be shy. Show me how badly you want me.” His words of encouragement arouse a new layer of heat to her cheeks that she’s grateful he can’t see in the dark, but she gives in, letting her reservation melt away with the kisses he trails down to her collarbone. His hips meet hers as she grinds against him, and with it she lets out a pleased groan that curls his lips.

Soon after his hands glide beneath her shoulders, and she lifts herself to give his fingers room to slip off her bra. Her hands take root in wet clumps of his hair when he dips his head to her breast, taking the sensitive skin in his mouth and dragging his tongue around it until he’s pulling from her a light string of moans that grind his hips roughly against hers.

The tautness of her fingers alerts him of her growing impatience, closely matching his. His hands drift downward over her stomach, curling around the top of her panties and slipping them down her thighs, but then he freezes suddenly, cursing once he realizes he doesn’t have protection.

Luckily, she’s come prepared, and gestures for her purse on the table. He retrieves it for her, and jots down a quick mental reminder to stock up on his own supply, noting the exact brand labeled on the little square she produces triumphantly from her bag, holding it up in the air like a hard-earned trophy.

He takes it from her hands, then he steps off the bed to slip from the confines of his jeans, and she nudges her panties from her ankles using her feet. The dull light shining from above the headboard lights his skin aglow, and she watches the shadows of his large muscles dance along his arms while he unzips his pants and shifts to step out of them. 

He moves at a slow enough pace that she can take in all of him with affectionate, sultry eyes, but not too slow so as to not waste any time. His patience is wearing dangerously thin, and from the gaping distance between them she can see the storm of his eyes threatening to break the glass that holds him back. 

Eyeing her body while he rolls on the condom only makes him eager to ingrain the shape of her to his hands’ memory. She lays with her head propped up by pillows, and she watches him with parted, wet lips and a hungry stare. One hand rests above her breast, as though she were holding her heart in place where it threatened to burst from her chest, while the other squeezes the comforter in anticipation. Her legs are bent, her knees resting together, and he’s not sure if she’s fully aware of the intimate display she gives him or if she’s doing it on purpose, but either way, it’s hidden, cast in the shadow of her thighs.

His hands part them needlessly as he moves over her, and she melds her chest to his as he settles on top of her. She cradles his jaw between her soft hands as he lowers his mouth to hers. The kiss is rough and filled with need, and when he plunges himself into her that need isn’t sated in the slightest; rather, it intensifies drastically.

The first few thrusts are careful, calculating, ensuring she isn’t uncomfortable or hurt, but the way she throws her head back in relief, the intensity of her grip as her hands slide to his shoulders, the way her legs wrap tightly around his waist, all push him just over the edge of caution.

His hips pick up in pace and soon he’s snapping against her in a steady rhythm, and he’s grabbing her wrists to pin her hands just above her crown, their fingers lacing together as he crushes his lips to hers possessively, devouring her pleasured cries in his throat. He has to pull away after a moment to allow them to breathe, and he inches their hands higher above her head, caging her face between his arms. As his thrusts grow rougher and faster, he grunts into her shoulder, and her voice rises higher in pitch, chiming in the air like a blissful song floating through his ears. It only pushes him to move faster, harder, deeper into her to see just how much she can take, how much higher he can guide her cries, until her back is arching sharply and her chest presses roughly into his, and her head is thrown back in a final cry as her body convulses with pleasure beneath his, and he follows shortly behind her with a throaty groan into the softness of her neck.

He rests there for a long moment, holding himself up just enough for her to breathe as deeply as she needs to, to catch her breath while he catches his, taking refuge in her warmth. She pries her hands from under his to hold him. Her fingertips massage his scalp lazily, smiling gently when stray tufts of his hair tickles her nose.

Aside from the dim light above them, the window is the only other source of light in the room, and so her eyes are drawn to the open space between the drapes. The sky outside is darker than their room, illuminated by the very same city lights she tenderly watched pass her by as she drove to see him earlier in the night.

The bubbling nervousness she’d felt then, to her, is simply ludicrous as she lay beneath him now, happy and content and without a care in the world. This isn’t how she’d pictured the night to progress, and she isn’t normally one to give into temptations, especially if those temptations breach her responsibilities. 

But as she looks back down at him, at the scruffy, damp mess of his unruly hair sticking out between her fingers, she can’t help but smile. He undoubtedly is, and always will be, an exception. And she is perfectly fine with that.

[sakura-blossom28]

Heartbroken

I guess I can’t stop writing! This is a more set up chapter if anything with some sweet bits at the end which I love writing! The next chapter should be fun and I’m going to jump around with the time a bit to speed this up to get to more Gaara Sakura gushy bits! Hope you guys like it let me know what you think!!

Part 1 / Part 2  / Part 3

Going out, piece of cake.  But what to wear? If she was just going to Naruto’s apartment Sakura would have just changed into some pajamas to hang out in, but they hardly went out like this, and this was barely going out.  To overdress or underdress?  Sakura did like getting dressed up but this was hardly the place to do it, and besides, she hadn’t had a reason to look nice in a while.  Even when she was dating Sasuke they never went out.  The bar scene just wasn’t for him.  Sakura didn’t mind, they went to a lot of casual dining places so there was never a need.  

She did miss dressing up, doing her hair, and using the nice makeup she got for Christmas.  Maybe with the warm weather, Sakura could convince everyone to go out to the nice rooftop bars.  Maybe even dancing!  The thought made her happy.  Even though she wasn’t good at it, Sakura still liked to dance.  It was just a fun way to let loose and feel good.  

Sakura chose to straighten her hair after her shower.  She definitely needed one after kickboxing.  She chose a chunky green turtle neck sweater that was darker than her eyes, dark jeans, and a pair of brown boots with a little bit of a heel.  Sakura looked casual but nice enough that her mother would approve of since she was going out in public.  Her makeup was light, just some blush and mascara to bring out her eyes more, and just a shiny tint lipstick to finish her look.  Sakura grabbed her off-white coat and walked out the door.  Her parents were away this weekend on a mini-vacation that Sakura couldn’t get time off of work for.  It was fine they needed some alone time.  She locked up and made her way out.

The bar was a few blocks away from Sakura’s apartment building.  She remembered going there a few times with friends in the neighborhood when they all turned 21.  Even her parents stopped in from time to time to get a bite to eat after work.  She loved their wings.  Just the thought of them made Sakura quicken her pace.  As she arrived she saw two familiar people standing outside.  

XxX

“Hey, Gaara, isn’t that the girl you’re crushing on? She’s way cute.  If you’re not gonna make a move I will,” Kankuro said to his younger brother.  At the sound of her name, Gaara looked down the street to see in fact it was Sakura.  His heart squeezed a bit at the sight of her.  His mind instantly played the memory from this morning of Sakura smiling so brilliantly at him during her workout.  She was the first girl to catch his attention in a long time.  

Sure there had been other girls before, but either they didn’t stick around, or Gaara just lost interest.  Hopefully getting to know Sakura would be exciting, he could use something different in his life.  Temari already liked her so that was a good sign.  She never liked the girls he brought around so he just stopped.  

“Not a chance Kankuro,” Gaara said and moved off the wall he was leaning on and walked up to Sakura.  

“Oh hi, Gaara!  I thought I would be the first one here! Hey Kankuro, nice to see you again,” Sakura said and peaked around Gaara to say hi to his brother.  

“Sakura! Long time no see! You’re looking great as usual,” Kankuro said walking up and putting his arm around Gaara.  She was taken aback by his comment.  Sakura had never been comfortable with people complimenting her, especially not guys.  She decided to brush it off, he was just being nice.  Sakura was too flustered to notice Gaara practically shoving Kankuro into the street after his little comment. 

“Let’s go inside and grab a table,” Sakura suggested with a nervous chuckle as she walked inside.  Gaara quickly followed right behind her, making sure to close the door right in Kankuro’s face.  The bar was quiet like Sakura expected.  It would be very easy to push some tables together for the nine of them.  After about twenty minutes everyone was finally there.  

Sakura managed to be sitting next to Gaara, thanks to Temari, and across from Naruto and Hinata.  For a while, everyone was chatting nicely, but then her conversation with Hinata stopped when she got up to go to the bar.  

“So how are you feeling? You were doing great for the first time,” Gaara said casually leaning back into his seat to talk to Sakura. 

“I actually really enjoyed it.  I’m pretty tired, but I feel great!  Do you always teach the beginner’s class?”  

“No, I don’t usually teach all that much.  I was filling in for one of the instructors since they were sick,” which wasn’t true, he wanted to see Sakura again after the other day.  

“Aw, that’s too bad.  I think you’re a great teacher,” she said with a smile, and Gaara smiled back.  

“Do you think you’ll be coming back?”

“Definitely.  The gym’s pretty close to my job so I can go right after work.” 

Their conversation went forward from that point without an awkward pause or break.  Gaara was really easy to talk to.  They covered everything from their day to day, to what they enjoyed doing in their spare time.  Sakura was happy to find that they had a lot in common.  They both like to take it easy by reading and watching movies.  Gaara was very intrigued in her cooking and baking efforts.  

“I need to start cooking more. Kankuro can’t even boil a pot of water to save his life.  And I’ve been staying late at the gym most nights that I can’t cook for him,” Gaara said throwing a sideways glance at his older brother who was happily chugging down his beer.  

“I like to keep myself busy after work so I’ve been trying a lot of new things, and I have to say my cooking has gotten a lot better!”

“And why are you trying to be so busy?” Gaara regretted the question as soon as he said it.  He could see Sakura stiffen at the question while her eyes widened.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to pry.” 

“No, it’s alright.  I was seeing someone who preoccupied almost every thought I had and how that I’m not seeing him anymore I realized how much time I had once he was gone. So now I’m trying new things that I want to do,” she said with a small smile.  

“That’s actually really cool.  And good for you to focus on yourself.  Most people would spiral out of control.  I remember Temari did that after her first serious boyfriend dumped her.  What a mess that was.  If she hadn’t gotten her own version of revenge I would have probably punched the guy if I ever saw him again,” Gaara said with a smirk.

“What did she do?”

“She didn’t do anything.  They were both applying to the same tattoo shop at the same time, but she got the job over him.  And the best part was that they were both told at the same time so he knew he lost to her, and as he was leaving he bumped into someone and they spilled their smoothie all over him.” 

“That’s actually hilarious! That’s what he gets for whatever he did to her,” Sakura said trying to hold in her laughter.  

Their night went on much the same way, exchanging different stories or embarrassing things that have happened to them.  Gaara steered clear of any more talk of relationships.  Clearly, something bad had happened to Sakura and he didn’t want to upset her any more than he already did.

Sakura was feeling really happy.  Talking to Gaara felt really natural and they seemed to be clicking.  She was having a really nice time with him.  Letting her guard down for once felt so freeing.  She definitely noticed that she had been smiling more.  It felt really good.  Was she finally ready to put herself out there? Should she take a chance on Gaara?  Worst case she just gets to know him and they stay friends before it can develop into anything more.  Better to play it safe.

Before they knew it, it was almost 11 PM.  Tenten, Neji, and Lee had already left without them noticing.  Their chemistry was so noticeable that even Naruto picked up on it.  

“Hey guys, we’re gonna head out, but stay as long as you want!” Naruto called out with a big smile while quickly shoving everyone else out of the bar.  

Sakura just had to laugh.  Naruto was just so not smooth.  They paid their bill and followed the crowd outside.  

“Well, I’m the other way so I’ll see you guys soon,” Sakura said to the group as they were heading towards the parking lot.

“Did you walk here?” Gaara asked starting to go in Sakura’s direction.  

“Yeah if I walk fast it won’t be too bad.”

“Would it be okay if I go with you? It’s pretty dark.” 

“It’s alright you don’t have to! I’m in the complete opposite direction of you anyway!”

“I really don’t mind. Plus I would feel better knowing you got home safe.”  That was the same thing that Sasuke would say.  Text me when you get home.  It was the only thing he said to Sakura that showed her he cared.  Even when he dumped her the last thing he said was get home safe.  It was nice to hear again. 

“Yeah okay.  Thanks that’s really sweet of you,” she said with a smile.  

The night wasn’t too cold, but some of the street lamps didn’t seem to be working so she was happy that Gaara was tagging along.  They were talking quietly when they heard loud shouting coming towards them.  

“Hey girl what are you doing out here? Come over here!” came from a group of what seemed to be three drunk guys stumbling behind them.  At first, Sakura didn’t register what was happening or who they were talking to.  The next thing she knew Gaara had his arm tightly around her shoulders and pulled her close.  He picked up the pace and it finally clicked in Sakura’s mind that those guys were talking to her.  

“Hey! We’re talking to you! Come back!” one of the more sober men started to say.  Gaara stopped under the next streetlight still holding on tightly to Sakura.  He turned to look at her, clearly, she was shaken up and understandably so.  He couldn’t believe she almost walked home by herself.  

“Stay right here where I can see you.  I’ll handle this,” Gaara said in the calmest voice he could use to make her feel better.  

“Please let’s just go,” Sakura begged.  Her hands were already shaking.  Any confrontation wasn’t her strongest point, especially with drunk men.  

“I don’t want them knowing where your apartment is.  I’ll be right back,” and he was gone.

It felt like hours that Gaara was gone, but Sakura knew that was impossible.  She strained to hear, but could only hear muffled voices.  The next thing she knew Gaara was walking back with his hands in his pockets.  

“See I told you I’d take care of it-,” Gaara said.  He would have said more but Sakura ran up to him and tightly grabbed him into a fierce hug.  He knew she was scared, but feeling her shake against him was even worse. He gently wrapped his arms around her.  She felt so small in his arms.  When he heard her start crying, his heart dropped into his stomach.  He did it again, someone good was scared of him.  

“I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to scare you-” he said while he tried to back away from her, but she was holding on too tight which surprised him.  She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, but he didn’t see any fear.

“You didn’t scare me! They did! I-I- That never happens I swear! It’s just awful! How do other girls deal with that all the time? Look at me I can’t stop shaking! I hate it!” Sakura looked so upset, but Gaara didn’t know what to say.  

She realized how close they were, she got embarrassed and let go of Gaara.  Sakura blushed but kept talking, “I just get so angry that I can’t stand up for myself.  That’s why I started kickboxing classes.  I thought if I physically got stronger I would feel it too.” 

Sakura led the rest of the way to the apartment, keeping a little closer to Gaara as they walked.  The whole time she was thinking to herself and having a small argument with herself that she almost forgot Gaara was next to her.  Gaara was fine with the silence.  He really had no response to give to Sakura’s statement.  He felt he didn’t know her well enough to put her mind at ease.  

Her apartment wasn’t too much farther and she was only on the second floor.  She got her key out and opened the dark silent apartment.  At that moment she forgot that her parents weren’t home.  

“Oh right…” she quietly said to herself.  

“Are you home-alone tonight? I thought you said you lived with your parents?” Gaara asked as he looked into a dark hallway.  

“They’re away for the weekend. They won’t be back until Monday,” Sakura said in a small voice.  She turned on the hall light, but it still seemed pretty dark in her home.  “Thanks for walking me home.  I’m really glad you did.  And thank you for taking care of it.  Are you going to be alright by yourself?” 

“I should be fine,” Gaara said giving her a small smile to make her feel better, but she didn’t look convinced.  

“Can you come in for a bit?” Sakura asked without looking at him.  She felt utterly embarrassed for even asking such a question.  She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea about her, but she was still pretty shaken up by what happened.  

“Yeah absolutely.” 

They walked into her small apartment, but it was big enough for 3 people.  Sakura never minded that she lived here, she actually enjoyed it.  She never had to take the garbage out in the rain, or shovel snow in the winter.  The front room was spacious with cream walls and red accents all around the house.  Gaara was jealous of the size of the kitchen.  His apartment wasn’t as nice, but he couldn’t complain his commute to work was zero minutes.  

All around the home were pictures of family, friends, and Sakura through the ages.  The most recent one being her college graduation.  She looked tired but happy.  On one wall was an empty picture frame.  It was an odd sight, but Gaara could put two and two together.  There must have been a picture of Sakura and her ex in there that her family happily hung up.  They really must have liked him.  He would be noisy and ask Temari later on.  

“I think I’m gonna call Naruto and Hinata and see if they can come over.  I don’t think I want to be alone tonight,” Sakura said from the kitchen. “I’d ask you to stay, but I thought that would be creepy and rude of me to ask since we just met.”

“I think that’s a good idea.  And I wouldn’t mind staying if it made you feel better,” Gaara said still wandering around her living room.  Sure it wasn’t Gaara’s usual style to stay over a girl’s house, but seeing her cry like that she could have asked him for anything and he would have done it. 

“Thanks.  I really appreciate it Gaara,” he turned at the sound of Sakura saying his name.  He saw that she relaxed a bit and she stopped shaking, which was a good sign.  “I’m just gonna go get changed.  I’ll get you some clothes.” 

Sakura wasn’t gone too long when there was a knock on the door.  On the other side were Naruto and Hinata.  They rushed past him with small a small greeting and went straight towards Sakura’s room.  If he really wanted to go home and sleep in his own bed this would be his chance.  He turned back around to see Sakura come out in her pajamas and holding some for him.  

She looked so innocent in a matching outfit of light blue button-down pajamas with little cupcakes all over them.  Sakura was even rubbing her eyes like a little kid.  She just looked so cute that Gaara could feel his legs moving back towards her as he shut and locked the door.  

As Naruto and Hinata were fussing over her and asking a million questions, Sakura looked towards him and blushed slightly. Handing him a pair of grey flannel pants and a black long-sleeved shirt, she blushed more handing him the clothes.

“I hope these fit. The bathroom is on the left.”

“They’ll be fine. Thanks.”

When he came back, Naruto and Hinata were already set up on one reclining couch tucked in.  Sakura was on the other and was waiting for him, barely staying away.  He settled in and reclined the couch for them.  Sakura’s eyes were heavy with sleep, but she seemed like she was trying to fight it.  

“You’re okay now, get some rest.  Do you want to sleep in your bed?” Gaara said as he pulled a blanket up around her.  

“No no I’m okay. I feel better that you’re here,” Sakura mumbled, eventually slumping onto Gaara as she fell asleep.  It was so strange to be close to someone else like this.  It felt nice, it felt right.  Sakura was a good person.  She was interesting, funny, smart, and kind.  She was someone he wanted to get to know better.  He wouldn’t deny that he was already interested in her but knew good things took time.  

Gaara knew she went through something pretty rough, but he was a patient person.  Looking at her sleeping so peacefully he realized that waiting would be worth it if she wanted to get to know him.  He knew he was getting ahead of himself, but for the first time in a while, he felt excited about the future.  Maybe getting close to someone, dare he say romantically wouldn’t be the end of the world like he always thought it was.  If everyone else around him seemed okay with a partner, he could give it a shot.  

Part 5  

[youngmistressofchopchop]

I did it. Now I dont write, I draw so this is not gonna be so good. Its been through many revisions and I realized I spelt "Yuseke" as "Yueske the entire time so forgive me ill fix that next chapter. My Kuwabara x oc story:

It was finally cold again. Miyoko was overjoyed, she had never liked summer. Sure there was no school and she had more time with friends, but she couldn't stand the heat. She detested those sweaty nights, or how the bugs always bothered her, actually she didnt care for any part of summer.

Miyoko had dropped so many hints over the years and yet somehow, Kuwabara still had no clue. His air-headed-ness was cute, but it made things difficult for the shy girl Miyoko was. She just couldn't work up the nerve to say something, and when she did, something would always interrupt her. However, today she planned to change that! Miyoko got dressed up as cozy as she could, ready for what her and her friends had planned and with a gleam of excitement in her eyes, she headed out the door. 

 That was apart from going to see her crush, Kazuma Kuwabara's baseball games, he would play every summer. When they were younger, he played in an official team wearing his "Mötor Head" jersey and smoking every opposing team he played against. Miyoko never missed a single game! Every home run, every strike, and every fight that broke out because of a bad call, she was there. When they got older, she would be there to watch him play against his friends, still wearing that jersey. She was always supportive of him, she was madly in love with him, and had been for awhile.

"Urameshi!! Where do you think you're going?? I was talking to you!" Kuwabara's feet hit the sidewalk with force as he sprinted after Yueske, who had walked only a few feet, forcing Kuwabara to stop abruptly frantically trying to steady himself without falling. After regaining balance, Kuwabara grabed a fists full of his friend's jacket to pull him close aggressively. 

"D-Dont tell anyone! Or I'll break your mouth, so you cant tell anyone nothin' ever again!!" Kuwabara's face was as red as the setting sun. Unfazed, Yuseke stared at Kuwabara blankly for a short second before sighing and shrugging the big flustered fool off of him. 

"Listen man, I wont say anything. But this is getting really annoying. Ive told you before that you should just go through with it. Whats your problem with admitting to her anyways?" Yuseke looked to the helpless man and immediately regretted asking. Kuwabara looked off dramatically twords the orange and red sky. His shoulders slouched, slumping over, and fiddling with his hands. 

"I....Shes really pretty, ya know? And...Im well...ya know?" His voice trailed off, as if wanting reassurance he was being foolish. When there was no reply, Kuwabara peeked up with a quivering bottom lip. 

Yueske stood with his hands in his pocket saying nothing, only wearing a furrowed brow and tight lips. Suddenly, he burst into laughter. Causing Kuwabara to stand up straight and look at him even more embarrassed, and ready to punch him.

"I never thought I'd hear the great Kuwabara, warrior of love, admit to being ugly!!" Mocked Yueske. He bent over shaking his head and slapping his leg, resting his other elbow on his knee and laughing loudly. He straightened and wiped a fake tear from his eye. Kuwabara gasped in shock. 

"What?? Ugly??" Again Kuwabara grabbed at his friend, this time missing and falling. He quickly got up and held up a threatening fists. 

"Im not ugly!! Im just not a romantic type!!" He rubbed his fists on his chest. 

"I am a warrior of love, so I know how to treat a lady and how to talks to girls, I just....." He paused, his mouth moving like hes trying to remember how talking works. "She's different!!" He finaly blurted out. "She reads them girly romance books that Kurama likes!!" With a frustrated grunt, Kuwabara rubbed his neck nervously and spoke in a much more serious tone.

"Ive known her a real long time, and I cant tell her yet cuz I'm kinda worried she only thinks of me like how Shizuru thinks of me." Yueske picked up on the seriousness of the situation and scoffed trying to lighten things up again. 

"Well you are ugly, but I think she likes you anyway. Besides man, why asks me? You think I read them werid books?" Yueske pat Kuwabara awkwardly on the shoulder. 

"No way. I asked cuz you have a girlfriend!!" Kuwabara turned to look at Yueske who was moving his arm away. 

"So? Doesnt mean I know what im doing, just asks Keiko." The boys laugh, seeming to have calmed down a great deal. Before much more could be said, four familiar and approaching voices could be heard chatting playfully. 

"Oh dear, you didnt actually take me seriously did you, Miyoko?" Botan said in a teasing tone. 

"I did!! I'm gullible, you cant just tell me anything about spirit world.I will believe it!! Everytime!" The two girls laughed. 

"I've noticed," Interjected Kurama. "You have managed to retained alot of attributes from your childhood haven't you? I find that interesting." Kurama continud, wrapping an arm around Botan. 

"Alot of people say that...is that a bad thing? I'm not immature am I?" Miyoko felt nervous now. Maybe that was the why Kuwabara never seemed to return her feelings, perhaps she wasn't mature enough for a relationship.

Keiko quickly spouted, "No no! I don't think he meant it like that, I think it's cute!" Keiko put a reassuring arm around Miyoko and smiled a friendly smile. 

"Ofcourse! Its an admirable trait." Kurama said as Botan giggled. 

Botan wagged her finger and pointed it at Miyoko with a knowing smile "Im on to you! You shouldn't feel so insecure!" Botan pulled her arm back and used it to hug Kurama's arm. "Don't be so hard on yourself, I know you're simply nervous, so you're being extra critical of yourself, but you'll do fine!" Botan hummed encouragingly. "And, we all look fantastic!" Botan added as they all rounded the corner.

Keiko stopped dead in her tracks, and started tapping her foot. "Well, most of us are...Yueske! I thought I told you to dress up!!" Keiko pouted, walking over to her boyfriend's side. 

Yueske was the most casually dressed out of all of them. Just wearing his usual faded blue jeans, black converse shoes, plain yellow shirt and favorite green and yellow windbreaker jacket. He looked even more underdressed standing next to Keiko. She was wearing a lovely pale pink turtleneck, a plum purple suspender skirt reaching to her knees, long white socks, and loafers to match her skirt. Despite their contrasting attire, they somehow matched perfectly. 

Yueske wrapped his arm around Keiko's shoulder and smirked."Kuwabara isnt dressed up." He looked over to Kuwabara and nodded his way while jutting his thumb twords his friend. 

"What!! I am too!! This is the nicest thing I got!! Other than like...a tux or something!!" Kuwabara wore a blue Letterman jacket, a red sweater with dark blue jeans, and brown dress boots laced in black, he was indeed dressed up quite nicely. Miyoko blushed at the sight of his clothing, he cleaned up nicely as always. She couldn't help but smile at him, it was always a slight surprise to see him out of his school uniform. Kuwabara had a simular reaction to Miyoko's choice of clothing. She dawned a wine red A-line dress, knitted black leggins, and shin high beige lace up boots. She wasn't one to dress up like this, but she wanted to tonight, it was a special night after all. 

Trying to redirect the situation and prevent Yueske and Kuwabara from fighting, Botan chimed in. "Well, I never have to worry about Kurama when it comesto presentation! Unless ofcourse, he's overdressed and making me look a fool!" Kurama and Botan giggled to eachother looking the most put together, like they were the parents of the group. Tonight, everyone was going their part to help Miyoko's odds, evident by Botan, who was wearing something much different from her usual choice of clothing.

She modelled a white turtle neck dress, form fitting reaching just above her knees with a small slit on the right side, with sleeves that reached slightly past her palms, she wore her wedding ring, hoop earings, beige velvet tights, and blue slip on flats to top off the look. To match her, Kurama dressed just as nice. Wearing a white button up tucked neatly into his dark brown pants, red suspenders with red suede shoes laced in black, and a matching wool trench coat to top complete it all. Now everyone felt underdressed. 

"So what are we doing anyway?" Yueske asked scratching his cheek. Keiko shook her head "Are you serious? You've been waiting around this long, and you dont even know why??" Yueske simpled shrugged "I guess?" 

Botan sighed looking tired, Yueske was a handful for everyone. "Dont you remember, Yueske? I told you this morning! We're all having dinner!" 

Botan motioned to the brick building everyone was standing next to. "You've been standing right next to the restaurant! Where I told you we would be meeting up, seriously! You didn't connect the dots?" Botan tilted her head with a hopeless look. Yueske gritted his teeth and roughly pulled Keiko by her hip to his, talking through his teeth. "Whatever!!" He sighed and let go of Keiko fixed his hair flustered, he brought his fists down onto his palm talking loudly. "So now that we're all here, can we go?? Im starving and you guys took all damn evening to get here!"

Keiko lightly kicked his shoe pouting up at him. "Hush!! Its not our fault you dont listen, besides you didnt even try to dress nice! So I dont feel sorry for you." Yuseke quickly stepped aside and raised his voice a bit "Hey! Didnt ya hear me?? I didn't know what was going on!!" Keiko roughly poked her boyfriend's chest, "Again, not our problem! Listen and you wouldn't have to worry!!" 

Kurama was the first to put a stop to the bickering. He took a wide step twords the brick building and grabbed the glass doors handle, he opened the door and motioned for everyone fallow him inside.

So theres that. I'll write more soon. I hope its as fun to read as it was fun to write.

[placewheredreamsneverend]

The Royal Romance Book 1 - Chapter 1: Once Upon A Time

The Royal Romance from MC’s POV 

MC x Liam x Drake (love triangle)

MC: Jenna Dewan

Liam: Daniel Henney

Drake: Daniel di Tomasso

Maxwell: Xavier Serrano

Music (Book 1, Chapter 1): It Never Ends - Oliver Stay

*The characters and original storyline are all from The Choices: The Royal Romance book 1.  All characters belong to Pixelberry. 

*I apologize for any misspelling or improper grammar structure. Sorry for any mistakes. English is not my native language. And also this is my first time doing something like this. I was inspired by other amazing fanfiction writers on this site.

It will be just an ordinary night at work, I thought while I was preparing for work at local restaurant also a bar. Manager will be quite demanding as usual. Customers will be, well, customers. At least I have Daniel, my best friend, who also works with me at the restaurant, to keep my back. Not that I need it. I know how to take care of myself, as I always have. And I do know how to put people on their place. It was part of my charm. Well, except one exception. But that doesn’t really count. It was my manager. I needed that job. It paid the rent. That was the only reason why I have tolerated such a jerk even trough I loved to throw him insane talking and innocent flirting with customers. The harsh truth is I really needed that job. I can’t afford to get fired and I was already late for my shift. I closed the front door of my apartment in a hurry with keys in my hand and went straight to work. 

"Just another glamorous New York Saturday night of hauling trash to the dumpster...", I said to Daniel as we walked outside of the restaurant to throw out the trash in nearest container. 

"It could be worse. There could be...” before he could finish his sentence a giant rat run across his foot. Suddenly they were all around. “Rats! Riley, help!", Daniel screamed with terrified look on his face. I was surprisingly calm. It's not that I haven't seen them before, especially working in place like this. I feel needed to say something to calm him down.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of this adorable little mouse family. They're trying to get by, just like us...", I said as calmly as I could. Just when I wanted to say more... our manager had showed up with furious look on his face.

"Hey! Riley, Daniel, quit slacking off over there!", he yelled as we quickly hurried to get the rest bags in the container.

"You told us to take out the garbage", I said, annoyed. Which I pretty was. Annoyed. By his presence.

"And now I'm telling you to wait on the bachelor party that just rolled in. Chop chop!", he said with the usual look on his face telling us “Get inside or you are both fired!” Nothing new. A jerk. And then he left. He was a word-class jerk. And there was any doubt about that. 

We went back inside to find the bachelor party. It was Daniel’s turn to serve new customers, I remembered.

One man yelled inside of the restaurant as I entered.

"Waitress, there you are. We need your best table!" I looked around but I didn’t notice him. It was very crowded tonight. And it was Daniel’s turn... I went straight to the bar just when I heard another men yelling.

"Forget the table. Just bring us whiskey and lots of it.” 

My kind of man. I thought. I really could use a one glass of whiskey right now.

“Riley, please take this one. I’ve got a date tonight and I’ll never make it out of here in time...”, Daniel said already untying his bow tie and apron. Somehow I wasn't surprised... much. He's been acting weird lately. Love. I guess.

“You really want me to take the bachelor party? I’m on it. The tip will be insane. I will have those guys eating out of my hand in no time.” I really needed that tip. The pay was too damn low.

“You are the best”, Daniel patted me on the back, happy, and then he left the restaurant smiling. At least, someone is going to have some fun tonight.

“Are you two still talking? I’ve seated them already. Now get over there before I dock your pay”, the manager yelled showing me the table waiting to order.

Oh boy, it will be a long night.

I grabbed my pen and paper and then I headed over to the table where three men were seated, talking, and waiting for my to take the order. They were sophisticated well-dressed. Well, except one, the men with dark messy hair and brown eyes. He was dressed casually in jeans and a blue shirt. He is handsome, I thought. But there was something about them... different. They were overdressed for a place like this. 

“Hello, gentlemen. I’ll be taking care of you this evening”, I said politely to them.

“Waitress, steaks for the table”, said the man with brown hair and funny loving smile. I liked him immediately. There was something about him... He sounds friendly. I smiled towards him.

“How about some filet mignon, medium rare and prepared with a bearnaise sauce?”, said the other men with dark eyes and sophisticated stature. Wow! Look around. You do know that you are in a bar? Right? This isn't some kind a fancy restaurant. I thought.

“The closest thing we have to filet mignon is the deluxe burger”, I said.

“Dare I ask for your wine list?”, he said annoyed. He is such a snob.

“We’ve got excellent vintage house red...” He didn't let me finish my sentence.

“House red?”, he looked at me with a disgusted look on his face. Correction, a wine snob.

“It also comes in white.” I definitely didn't like his attitude. He sounded pretentious. And I was very good at reading people... 

“We will be fine with a bottle of whiskey... and four deluxe burgers”, said the handsome one with half-smile, half-laugh on his face. Oh, I really liked him. He looked like the type of guy I usually dated. 

“Four?”, he nodded behind me and I turned to see the last man man at the party. Whoa. He is really cute! I thought. He had blond hair and the most mesmerizing blue eyes I’ve ever seen. I could easily get lost in them if I allowed myself to. He was wearing a blazer. He also was very handsome.

“Sorry, I’m late.Thank you for your patience, Mis...?” And he sounds politely.

“Uh, Riley”, I said noticing I was holding my breath. He took my breath away.

“Charmed to make our acquaintance, Riley. I’m Liam”, he introduced himself in such delicate manner. Handsome and polite. I’m in so trouble...

“Trust me the pleasure is all mine. Now let me go and put your order. Be right back”, I said with large smiley on my face as I walked away. 

There was one thing I was sure of: they were definitely not from around here.

Later that evening, a little after the bar has closed I was finishing up when someone tapped me on the shoulder... It was the man with mesmerizing blue eyes. It was Liam. I remembered his name. How could I forget? You don’t see men like him often at the place like this.

“I think we are about ready to head out. I just wanted to thank you and apologize. I know we keep you late and my friends can be... demanding”, he sounded genuinely. 

Demanding, you think? I do have another word for that... 

“Demanding? Nothing I couldn’t handle.”  Truth.

“I got the feeling that you could take care of herself. If you don’t have any plans tonight, maybe I can make it up to you by buying you a drink. We are about to go to a club”, he looked me with a large smile on his face, the same smile like mine was earlier before. I was melting.

You want to buy me a drink? Like a date? Are you asking me out on a date?

“Oh? Which one?” I didn’t mind. Count me in. It’s not that I have any plans tonight... I noticed that he was hoping for my acceptance.

“We are hoping that you may have some advice about that. We’re not from around here.” No, kidding.

“I recommend going...” before I said anything I remembered that all the clubs around here are crowded and noisy. What I really needed after long work is quite place to rest my head. And I had just the right place in mind.

“...to a gorgeous secret cove by the beach. Forget the club.” My favorite spot. Just what I needed right now. Trough I wasn’t sure will he appreciate it.

“You know... that actually sounds perfect. To be honest, I’m getting a little tired of the usual bachelor party antics. Lead the way!” 

You are? I was feeling little confused and at the same surprised by his words. I didn’t expect it. He got me...

“Sure. Let me finish up here and I’ll meet you out front...”, I said and headed back to change. My heart started pumping fast thinking about spending night with him... I’m in a such big trouble...

My heart was still pumping fast when I threw on my casual green dress, my favorite dress, I was so glad that I’ve decided to show up at work tonight wearing her, and stepped outside of the restaurant. I was feeling so excited. And they there were. The four men were waiting for me to come next to the limo. At least, that’s what I thought. I heard Liam calling them by their names. The one with funny and loving smile was Maxwell. Tariq was the pretentious one. Oh, I really didn't like that one. And the one with messy brown hair and casual look was Drake. As I approached them, Drake’s eyes went wide.

“Wow”, he said surprisingly. I didn’t expect that. I was surprised as well.

“Wow?” It almost sounded like a compliment. I wasn’t sure.

“I... almost didn’t recognize you.” Definitely a compliment. It was kind of cute. He was kind of cute. I thought. 

“That uniform wasn’t doing you justice”, said Tariq, the pretentious sophisticated wine snob. Flattering. I wasn't surprised. I knew that type of men very well. A slimy ones.

Thanks. But don’t think for one second that you can fool me...

“Yeah, the waitress is hot”, said Maxwell. I didn’t mind... Much. Nothing I haven’t heard before. 

I noticed Liam didn’t like the way they were talking about me, especially in front of me.

“Ahem. Her name is Riley and I doubt she appreciate you talking about her like that”, said Liam to them with an angry look on his face. Only if a look could speak... his would be saying: "behave". A truly gentleman. I thought. I did appreciated his words. Not that I needed it them. And they didn’t bothered me... much. I’ve got used to hear stuff like that. That’s when you work in a bar, you get used to of all sorts of people. But still it was very consider of him... He cares about how I feel... He does look like a person who cares...

“Right. Sorry, Riley”, said Maxwell looking at me with the “puppy eyes” look. How can anyone could be possible angry at him? He looked like a childish men but in some sort of good way.

“I meant to say you look lovely. Now let’s get this party going”, he sounded so excited. He was happily looking for this night to start.

Thanks, Maxwell. I forgive you. Not that I need to.

“Hang on... The waitress is coming with us?”, said Drake in some kind of shock state.

“Actually, we’re going with her. She’s is picking our next destination”, Liam explained. 

“So she is our tour guide now?” Drake continued looking at me kind of surprised and angry at the same time. What the hell is wrong with this guy? I was hundred percent sure that I didn’t do anything to piss him off... Thought, I even kinda liked him... and I thought he kinda liked me too. Liam put his arms around Drake’s shoulders and calmly said to him:

“Riley, was kind enough to agree to show us around. She’s doing us a favor, so play nice”, Liam smirked at me and nodded as Drake calmed down.

I wasn’t convinced. Drake didn’t wanted me to go with them. And I didn’t know why. But I didn’t care. I was there for Liam. 

A short time later... We all pilled out of the limo at the beach and the guys headed off toward the ocean.

“We should build a bonfire”, said Drake as he searched for nearby woods. He didn’t look angry any more. What the hell was back that then? 

“I’m not doing manual labor”, said Tariq. Of course, what else could you possible expect from sophisticated wine snob?

“Sorry I forgot who I was talking to. What I meant was, I’ll go build a bonfire”, said Drake as he walked away. He is handy. I though. I had dwelling thoughts about him.

“This place is awesome! Skinny dipping!”, said Maxwell as he started to remove his shirts and unbutton his pants.

“Keep your pant on, Maxwell!”, Tariq shouted. Maxwell continued to strip and then ran towards the ocean. Liam turned towards to me.

“Thank you for bringing us here. I can tell the guys are enjoying themselves already”, he said with warm smile on his face.

“I bet you’ve used to putting everyone else first”, I said as I looked up at him and our eyes met.

“And why would you say that?”, he asked, astonished.

“I can tell. I’m good at reading people...” Truth. I am. But tell me more about you... I really want to know you. 

“Now forget about your friends. What about you? Do you like it here?”

“I love it”, he sounded happy.

“It’s my secret spot, so I’m really trusting you.” 

Why did I just said that? I really do trust him... even trough I don’t know him that well... yet.

“I’ll do my best to be worthy of that trust. Though there’s just one problem... How am I supposed to buy you that drink?”, he asked me with a chuckle as I blushed. He was charming. 

“You’ll think of something. Or maybe you’ll just keep owing me.”

“Fair enough. So what should we do?”, he asked and then patiently waited for my reply while as I was thinking.

“We should... jump in the ocean!”, I said, thrilled.

“Won’t we get soaked?” 

Yes. That’s the point!

“You are not afraid of  a little water, are you?” 

Where is your sense of adventure? I stared running off into the water. 

“Wait up!”, he exclaimed as I ran straight into the water catching ice cold waves. COLD!

“Cold!”, Liam yelled as catching up to me. 

“But worth it, right?”, I said to him hoping for him to understand the deeper meaning of this little adventure. And he did. I saw it in his eyes.

“I never felt more alive... “, he said as I stared to shiver from the cold. I believed him. Even then I didn't know why.

“You cold?” 

“Maybe just a little...” A lot.

“I see that the guys got the bonfire going. Let’s head back and warm up...”, I shaked my head in the state of of an agreement as I wanted to reach for his hands and feel his touch on my skin badly.

We walked back over to the bonfire. We were alone. Liam’s friends went to play by the water.

“Tonight has been quite the adventure... I never thought my night out on the town would end up like this. You are something else, aren’t you?”, he said as I smiled towards him, blushing again.

“I’m going to take that as compliment.” Now that I think it better... every word coming for his mouth sounded like a compliment to me. He was to way good with words, I noticed. It almost sounded frightening on some way. And I don't know why I felt that way.

“Believe me, it is. Spending time with you tonight has been the most fun I’ve had this entire vacation.”

“I guess that means you haven’t really been enjoying yourself very much.” I pulled myself closer to him. We were so closer to each other. I could almost feel his shoulder touching mine.

“It’s been wonderful, but there’s something missing. I really wanted to do the one thing in particular while I was here...” I saw the longing in his eyes. That’s when I knew that I need to do something.

“And what is that?”, I asked him, intriguingly, then he looked straight into my eyes. 

“It’s... well... you’re going to think it’s silly, but I’ve always wanted to see the  Statue of Liberty... It wasn’t really the guys plan so we just never got around it. And now it’s my last day here... I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. It was thoughtful of my friends to throw me this bachelor party. They’ve done their best...”, then he stopped talking for one short moment. Something was bothering him. I could tell.

“... but I’m not in mood to celebrate” he sounded devastated. I saw some kind of sorrow deep in his eyes.

“Wait for a second, it’s your bachelor party?... Congratulations.” I looked down in the sand and pulled myself away from him. It felt like someone has just punched me in my stomach. Of course, the bachelor party! How did I forget about it? I wasn’t even thinking about it... I have totally forgot it. I felt stupid and sad. I even started falling for him...

“If you knew the whole story, you might not congratulate me so quickly”, he looked away.

And how is that? Please, explain.

“Oh?”  

I looked up at him and saw sad smile on his face. He wasn’t happy. Why he wasn’t happy. I didn’t understand.

“I actually don’t know who I’m going to marry yet... only thing I’ll have to pick my fiance by the end of year.”

You don’t know who are you going to marry yet? Are you kidding me? 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The truth is Riley... I’m the Crown Prince of Cordonia.”

He was a prince. And I didn’t know about it. The entire time I was talking to a prince without knowing it. Even I kind of had a feeling... I didn’t expected to find something like this. I dragged him into freezing cold water. What was I thinking? Am I even allowed to talk to him?

“This doesn't change anything. I don’t care what your title is. You’re still the same guy I met earlier this evening... Caring, thoughtful. I have seen a lot of costumers come and go, but I’ve never seen any guy at his bachelor party be concerned about whether the waitress was having a good night.”  I poured my heart out in front of him without realizing before it was too late.

“You don’t know how rare it is to hear someone say that. You’re the first one, in fact”, he smiled as he reached for my hands. My heart dropped by the touch of his skin. He liked what I said. I could tell. And I really meant it. Every word.

“It seems the more I talk to you, the more I like, Riley” The feeling was mutual.

“It’s strange... I’ve have know my whole life that I have to take up the duties of the monarchy. I always wandered how that shaped me, who I’ve might have been without the crown.”

“You could be anything, do anything. What drives you, Riley?” Well, that wasn't the hard question. My adventurous spirit.

“What I really want is to live every day to the fullest. Sure I’m only waiting tables now, but.. I like to make every day an adventure. You only get once chance at life, I want to make mine mean something.”

“That’s beautiful, Riley.” I saw in his eyes that he really meant it.

Looking out at the surf, I saw Maxwell, Tariq and Drake splashing in the water.

“Looks like your friends are having fun...”, I chuckled. And then suddenly I had an idea.

“Good. I’m happy for them. They deserve to have fun... Tomorrow it’s back to Cordonia for the start of the social season.”

“But it’s now tomorrow yet...”

“What are you suggesting, Riley?” I saw a sparkle in his eyes. A sparkle of excitement.

“You said you wanted to see the Statue of Liberty. Let’s do it! I know a place where we can catch a boat tour. Best view in town.”

“Right now? But It’s way past midnight. Won’t all the tours be closed?

“Oh...right. I forgot how late it’s gotten. In that case, you are lucky I can call in a favor.”

“A favor? And just like that, you can get us on a tour boat after midnight to see the Statue of Liberty?”

“Well, maybe a few favors, actually, but I do have some friends who owe me. Let’s go!”

“Right now?”

“It’s only getting later every minute we wait. It looks like the guys are busy enough. I bet they won’t even notice you’ve gone.”

“You’re not going to take no for answer, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Then I happily surrender your demands.”  I saw a sparkle in his eyes. A sparkle of excitement.

I took my phone and start dialing some numbers. I smiled and took his hand in mine as we walked off the beach.

We went to the docks. Waiting for our boat to arrive.

“... And there we wait.”

“For?”

“A magical boat I’ve summoned just for you”, I said smiling.

“Now, I’m dying to know why you’re so eager to see the Statue of Liberty.” 

But I already knew... It was obviously. And I was a good listener.

“Can’t you guess?”

“You want to see the Statue because she symbolizes freedom.”

“Freedom is something that I’ve always wanted. But I’ve always know that my role would require me to give up much of what I desire”, he explained.

“You’re the prince. Can’t you do what you want, at least some of the time?”

“As a member of the royal family, my actions reflect on my house and all of Cordonia. It’s something I’ve never been allowed to forget. No matter how badly I might want to.” He looked deeply at me for one long moment and then sadly looked away. 

“Liam... “ Before I could finish my sentence I heard the blast of a horn.

“There is our ride!”, I said standing up to meet him.

The boat arrived and we stepped inside. 

“Part of me didn’t think you’d pull this off”, he said.

Don't underestimate me.

“You didn’t think I could pull it off? You just don’t know me very well.”

Truth. And I don’t know you either. I would like to change that... Both.

“You are right. But I’d like to fix that. You’re fascinating, Riley. Why are you doing this for me?” 

I saw a spark in his eyes again. He was happy. I make him happy. My heart wished for that to be true.

“I’m doing this because I love a good adventure. And this is going to be an amazing story to tell my friends about.”

And because I falling for you... More then you know.

“To be honest, no one’s ever done anything like this for me before.” 

He took my hand in his. Our skin touched.  

“Really? Come on, you are prince. I bet people do things for you all the time.”

“I do get all the perks of being royalty, but no one’s ever seen me as just... me. No one’s ever listened to me the way you do. No one’s ever come up with a spur-of-the-moment plan to make my dream come true.”

“Liam... I’m glad I could help.”

“You’re an amazing person.” 

And so are you. I’m definitely falling for you...

In the distance, we saw the Statue of Liberty appear. He looked up at her then down at me with amazement.

“So, what do you think?”, I asked him.

“Magnificent. I’ve heard that art has meaning because of what makes the viewer feel. Whether it’s ink splatters on a canvas or the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, it only matters if it moves you.” 

You are moving me.

“And?”

“And right now, looking at this view with you, I feel like everything is possible.”

It felt like time has stopped. It was just him and me like we were the only two persons left in the whole world.

“Thank you for this moment, Riley.This feeling... this means more to me than you could ever know.” 

“Liam...” 

“I want you to know that I admire you. Your adventurous spirit. The way you follow your heart.”

“You can live that way too.” 

“If only. My whole life I’ve prepared myself to do what’s the best for Cordonia.”

“Well, we’re not in Cordonia now...” I looked up to him. His eyes meet mine. He pulled closer to me as I drove him and kissed him deeply. He returned. He kissed me back. He ran his fingers through my hair. I pulled away. Breathless. My heart was jumping out of my chest.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”, he smiled satisfied.

“I try”, I chuckled as I was trying to find my way back to reality.

“I’m glad I’ve meet you, Riley. I will never forget this night”, he sound sincerely. And I believed him.

Mee too.

When I came back to my apartment, I took a long shower and then I went straight to bed. A few hours later, I caught myself staring at the ceiling, thinking about Liam and the kiss we shared that night. His kiss was sweet and gentle like I've imagined the first kiss would be even if it wasn't the first time I've kissed someone. I silenced thoughts in my mind and closed my eyes. The tiredness soon has consumed me. I felt asleep. 

The next morning, when I woke up, I couldn’t stop thinking about the last night. About Liam. That night meant something to me. It was special. He was special and now I’m never gonna see him again. I got ready and went to work still thinking about him all the way, losing all my hope...

When I finally got there, as I walked up to the front door, I heard familiar voice calling my name. I stopped and turned to see. It was Maxwell. I was surprised to see him and a little bit happy too. A lot. Perhaps Liam was with him... I look to see around. But he wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t. What the hell was I thinking of? He is a prince and I’m, well, me. 

“Riley! Glad I caught you. We’re heading back to Cordonia so Liam can find someone to marry and all that jazz. But before I go, I wanted to officially extend to you an invitation to join us for the festivities in Cordonia”, he said with familiar funny loving smile on his face. I loved that smile.

You do... want what? Is this for real?

“You wouldn’t usually be allowed to join... but I wanted to sponsor you”, now his voice sounded serious. That’s when I knew he wasn’t joking. 

But, sponsor me? What do you mean?

“Sponsor me?”, I asked confused. I was confused. It doesn’t happen every day for you to meet a real prince charming and the next day one of his friends comes on your front door asking to sponsor you. What actually that does mean? 

“I’m from a noble house, but I don’t have any sister, so we don’t have anyone in contention to marry the Prince. Instead, we can sponsor any girl we choose. And you’re my pick”, he explained. 

But why me? I’m just an ordinary girl trying to find her place in this words. What possible can I have that other girls don’t have?

“You want to sponsor me? Why?” 

“I’m not doing it for you. I saw how Liam looked at you last night. I’ve never seen him so happy. Honestly? I don’t want him to lose that. We’re kinda crunched for time, though. I’ve go a plane leaving within the hour...” 

Liam was happy last night... With me. He seen it too. I wasn’t imagine it. But wait...

Within the hour?!

“You’re moving a little fast, don’t you think?”, I said, annoyed.

How can I possible have an answer in such a short time? I need time to think it through.

“No time to waste. The opening Masquerade is tonight! It’s the start of the... uh,I guess I could say, it’s the start of the competition.”

Competition? What kind of competition? Just when I thought that this conversation can’t sounded more weird than already is.

“What do you mean?”, I asked him, confused again.

REALLY MAXWELL, WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!

“There’s a whole horde of gorgeous, rich, noblewomen vying to become Cordonia’s next queen. And it’s not just about winning the Prince’s hand. You’ve also got to prove to the council that you can rule Cordonia with him. But I think you’ve got what it takes. You’re witty and charming”, he explained as I sensed hope in his two last sentences.

Just what I needed to hear. Like I couldn’t feel more... smaller. Thanks a lot, Maxwell. Council? I’m definitely not ready for such thing. And I couldn’t imagine myself as queen. But thought of seeing Liam... It changed everything. 

“Uh, thanks. So... a fancy Masquerade... and what else I am getting myself into?”

“Fun stuff I promise! You’ll get to go yachting in the Mediterranean, skiing in Alphs and dancing in the Royal Palace... Or, you know, you can stay here. Go back to your waitress gig with your crappy boss.That’s probably about as good.” 

He does have a point. And it does sound fun... Even through I’m not quite sure about dancing. I have two left feet when comes to dancing. But what do I have to lose? And thought of me actually going to work today... And it doesn’t sound like me to run away from an adventure...  I counted all the pros and cons I could remembered as I summoned all my courage and made a decision.

“I’m in”, I said determined. But I wasn’t...

Oh, boy. I’m willing putting myself in trouble... But I have to see him again. At least once again. I think he wants that to.

“Yeah! Go pack your bags. This is going to be the adventure of a lifetime!”, he was thrilled.