#he sees a huge arrangement of roses left on his spot in the dressing area that are clearly so expensive as to be from ed and stede

[izzy-b-hands]

I. I think I have a decent finished draft for the first day of the upcoming Our Flag fan event with those drag based prompts that's coming up later in the month but. Oh. I made myself sad for Izzy in the process 🥺

[fairyoftbz]

Tournesol | Changmin

🌻 pairing: shy florist!changmin x fem!reader (briefs mentions of barista!Jacob & tattoo artist!Kevin) 🌻 genre: fluff, slow-burn, strangers-to-lovers (?) 🌻 word count: 3.1k 🌻 synopsis: you are new in town so you decide to explore a bit of your neighbourhood. You never knew that the flower shop down your street would change your life in a good way.  🌻 requested? : yes, thank you so much! ✨ 🌻 A/N: here comes my first ever post for my first personal project! thank you to the anon who requested this and i hope you’ll like it! constructive feedback is always welcomed in my dms or my asks!  I will write the English translation of the French word I used in that way. PS: If anyone wants to be tagged on my future posts for this project, please let me know !!

Locking the front door of the brand-new apartment you had just moved into, you pulled down your light coat’s sleeve after dropping your keys in your little cross-body bag. You walked down the few flights of stairs that separated you from the entrance hall, quickly checking if you had any mail and walked out the door as it was found empty.

Today was your lucky day because the wind stopped blowing right before you woke up, and the sun decided to show up as you were enjoying your breakfast, making you finish it on the little balcony right outside your living room. You couldn’t ask for a better start of the day, the light mood and warm atmosphere bringing nothing but a huge smile on your face.

You greeted the old lady with a wave and a bow as she was swiping the entrance of the bakery, wishing her a great day as you kept your route.

__

Two weeks ago, as you were moving in, the baker happened to be with her son and some of his friends, and instead of helping her serve the bakery customers, she sent them over to your place as she knew who you were, since you visited her place in a rush the day before. She seemed to have the gift of the gab because she was quick to ask if you were new around the neighbourhood. You remember being surprised by her behaviour and politely answered, but you were glad that you had this conversation with her. You weren’t even halfway through your move that the 4 boys appeared in the entrance hall, offering their help. Feeling a bit suspicious at first, you kindly refused, but when one of them offered you a smile extremely similar to the baker and introduced himself as her son, you finally gave in and accepted their help.  

The amount of time you had planned for your move got reduced by almost three thanks to them. They followed your orders like no one else, and once they were done moving the boxes around the rooms and left, you quickly went to the local convenience store you had spotted at the other street corner and bought 4 bottles and some chocolate for them. You walked by the bakery the following day, and the son happened to work here, replacing his mother while she was at a doctor’s appointment. He was touched by your small gifts, and he made sure to call his friends to come over and get them while you slipped away from the bakery to go to IKEA. Before you got to leave, he advised you to take a few walks around the neighbourhood to get to know your surroundings. You wished you could have followed his advice earlier, but you were busy with moving in and get ready for your interviews that could lead you to potential jobs.

But today was the weekend and you decided to take some time for yourself and follow the advice of the baker's son. It was a beautiful day, and you had planned to make the most of it to get familiar with your neighbourhood.

__

Your area was surprisingly calm to be in the middle of the city, but you weren’t going to complain since it was something you were dying to have: a friendly, quiet neighbourhood. The nice smell of the bakery lingered around you as you walked past the building, following you until you turned at a corner, leading you to a new, unknown street. Some shop windows were beautifully decorated, and you mentally took some notes of the various local shops that could become potentially useful one day. You walked past a china shop, staying for a few seconds to admire the detailed and precise work displayed in the window display. Offering a smile to the young lady inside the store, you walked away and looked around, noticing something that caught your attention on the opposite pavement. You quickly checked as no car drove by and crossed the street, smiling as two shops were the polar opposite of the other. The flower shop in front of you was sweet, it smelt delicate and chic, just like flowers. The walls were covered by some off-white roughcast, adding a soft touch to it.

A few meters away, on the left of the flower shop, was a tattoo parlour. You giggled as you noticed the cliche that emanated from the two places. The parlour was covered in black, with a Gothic, biker style, posters of metal and rock music pasted around the walls, hardcore music blasting from the speakers, completely contrasting with the softness and the sobriety of the flower shop. A tattoo artist appeared behind the counter that was situated next to the window and your eyes widened, trying to quickly count the number of tattoos and piercings that was decorating his body. A single front piece of hair was dyed blond among the other jet-black strands, his warm smile standing out from the rest of his physical appearance.

You turned your head to the side as you focused on the flower shop, its atmosphere suiting you better despite the next-door shop spiking up your interest. You smiled at the yellow Beetle parked in front of it and pushed the door open after a few seconds of consideration, a small bell tingling as it hit the glass door.

The smell of pollen and freshly cut flowers welcomed you in, the intensity of the colours making you slightly dazed. They were all gorgeous, the arrangements giving you an impulsion to buy a bouquet of each flower they had in store, but that would never happen.

“Welcome!” a voice from under the counter greeted you, a man appearing behind it a few seconds later, secateurs in hand. You smiled as you greeted him back, charmed by how similar he was to his store, soft and friendly. He stayed behind the counter, watching you walk around his shop, all of his other activities and tasks were instantly forgotten as soon as you stepped a foot inside his store.

Changmin was amazed by your smile, finding you incredibly beautiful, his heart hammering in his chest at the sight of your admiring smile creeping across your lips. He was dying to talk to you and get to know you, but he knew himself, he was most likely going to make a fool of himself if he ever dared to exchange some words with you. He was already pleasantly surprised that he had managed to welcome you without getting in a muddle or stumbling on his words.

With a slightly shaking hand, he diagonally cut the end of the red roses resting on the counter. He couldn’t help but glance at you, which you didn't notice, luckily for him. However, by paying too much attention to you and your gorgeous smile, he began to cut the stems a little too rapidly and too high, alas once pinching a piece of skin between the pruning blades, making him jump in pain and let go of the gardening tool. Changmin stifled a groan of pain and rushed into the back office, looking for the first aid kit. He hurriedly found a sticking plaster and wrapped it around his cut, pressing on the wound to ease the pain and get back to work as quickly as possible.

As he reappeared in the doorway that separated the back office from the front office, he heard the bell above the door chime again, signalling your departure.

His shoulders subsided and he watched you walk away with a disappointed pout. He sighed in sadness and pushed the roses away, nervousness and guilt fuelling his mind and regrets.

"Shit," he sighed, picking up the wilted petals of a few roses that were littered on the floor, shoving them into the front pocket of his apron. He blamed himself for not having spoken to you to at least know your name. Quickly, Changmin walked around the counter to door, showing the “now-closed” store sign as remorse flooded his veins. He let his feet guide every single one of his moves, now finding himself in the storeroom. He took a pencil and his notebook sticking out of his bag before returning to the counter.

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember your face and began a sketch. He erased a line, then two, then several, feeling the frustration overcome him as the portrait did not correspond to what he had seen a few minutes earlier at all. Changmin had a perfect image of you in his mind, but maybe the stress of forgetting you or his shaking hands prevented him from replicating your gorgeous face on paper.

Completely unaware of what was going on behind those four walls, you kept on walking around the neighbourhood until your feet hurt and decided to go back to your apartment.

__

The next morning you enjoyed the rays of sunlight that your curtains had failed to filter for a few minutes, smiling shyly as you remembered seeing the florist appearing in your dreams. He was here, you recognised his face, but you couldn't hear what he was saying. He sounded extremely sincere and filled with love, but it was probably just your lonely mind playing tricks on you. You decided to get up, a sudden urge for pastry invading your thoughts, your stomach growling at the sudden idea. After dressing appropriately for going out, you walked through your doorstep and walked leisurely to your favourite bakery. The baker was sitting on a chair on the small terrace of her shop, sipping tea with who appeared to be her husband.

"Morning Sir. Ma'am," you bowed, greeting them warmly, the baker hurriedly setting down her tea mug to gently grab your wrist. "Dear, this is the young lady Jacob and his friends helped move in the brick building, around the street corner that I told you about. Remember that?" she explained to her husband, who took the time to swallow his sip while nodding. "Ah, the bottle of wine and the chocolate," he says looking at you and you smiled, as it was your turn to nod. "That's right," you stated, holding out your hand for him to squeeze, which he did delicately. “Thanks again,” you told them, and the baker waved her hand in front of her face, a genuine smile on her face. "Oh please, don’t worry about it, it's okay," she declared, and you thanked them again before entering their bakery. Jacob was behind the counter chatting with an old lady who seemed to waylay him. He noticed you and apologised to her, seeing him sigh before greeting you. Jacob was a sweet man, always ready to help everyone and too nice to say no. Talking and getting to know him was a piece of cake, he was so nice to hang out with and a gem to have around.

"Y/N, hello! What can I get you?" he offered you a beautiful smile, which he got from his mother, noticing another time the striking similarity with the old woman on the terrace. "I'm going to get a baguette and one of those," you say, pointing at a pain au chocolat sprinkled with powdered sugar in the little window that separated you from the young man. He smiled and grabbed a metal clamp, placing the pastry in a paper bag. Typing a few things on the machine, you handed him a banknote and he gave you back the change, along with your pastries. You thanked him and started to leave when a familiar figure stood at a table against the window.

Changmin was quietly drinking his coffee when he heard a conversation start from outside the window. He almost spat out the liquid he had in his mouth when he saw you talking with the owners of the bakery, his eyes widening at the sight of you. He pursed his lips to stifle a smile and continued to drink his coffee, tapping on his phone screen. His heart was hammering harder, faster, in his chest as he tried to keep a low profile, lowering his head in case you were to curiously look around the place. He sighed through gritted teeth when he heard your complicity with Jacob, feeling a touch of jealousy pinching his heart without intending to. Changmin nervously finished his cup of coffee in one sip, the warm liquid burning his throat, not bothering looking up. Stuffing his phone in his jacket pocket, he was ready to go when he saw you still in the store, immediately freezing as his brown eyes met your sparkling ones.

"Hello!" you told him with a smile, waving discreetly with one hand while the other clutched the brown bag against you. He blinked several times, your beauty and kindness bouncing around his skull. He answered you with a brief, serious nod and walked away without even saying goodbye to his friend behind the counter. You watched him leave out the window before turning to Jacob, who was looking at you with a thin smile on his lips. "Did I say something wrong?" you asked him, and he exhaled a laugh through his nose, shaking his head from side to side. "Not at all. Changmin is just a very shy person sometimes," he said, and you nodded, still a bit confused from the florist's behaviour, but you said nothing and walked out of the store after wishing for a good day to Jacob. The latter smiled as you walked in the opposite direction from Changmin, greeting another customer as he understood his friend’s behaviour.

__

A week passed and it was time for you to start your new job. You had used up a good chunk of your last salary to pay for furniture and taxes which you barely remembered the names of, so you needed to have a new entrance of income. You applied to a real estate agency that wasn't far from where you live, as a financial chief director, exactly what you worked at in your previous city. You had to walk past the florist to get to your new workplace, but the florist was the only closed shop on the whole street, which surprised you. You had the opportunity to talk a little more with Jacob, and he had confessed to you that Changmin loved his job and was a flower enthusiast, which confirmed your concern when you didn't see his store open.

A smile grew on your face at the end of the day, when you took the same path as this morning, seeing the shop illuminated. When you had assembled your furniture, you remembered that you wanted to decorate your apartment with more greenery and flowers. Seizing the opportunity that the florist was still open, you pushed open that same door you had walked through a few weeks ago, the same wonderful smell and tinkling bell welcoming you inside.

You noticed a brown chunk of hair behind a large, flowered wall, immediately recognising Changmin's slender figure. You heard him clear his throat as he hummed a tune, arranging a bouquet.

Changmin heard a customer walk into his store and finished his bouquet of sunflowers and red roses before revealing himself, his eyes opening widely as he discovered your innocent smile and your office outfit. The pencil skirt and beige suit you wore made his heart fuzzy with warmth, his mind only filled with how pretty you looked.

“Good evening,” you greeted him, and he nodded, swallowing his saliva before answering you. "Welcome," he said, his husky, uncertain voice melting your heart. He managed to smile, finding dimples growing in the corners of his mouth, he was handsome when he was smiling with reddened ears. "I would like to know if you have any flowers or plants to recommend to decorate my apartment," you clear your throat before telling him your request. "May I ask the colour of your walls?" he asked in a hesitant voice, looking everywhere around the shop except you. "White, cream, and some in greyish tones as well," you explained and he nodded mechanically, looking through his stock.

"I can suggest you some dried pampas grass with cotton stems. It's... quite sober and low maintenance," he walked around the counter and you followed, his hands grabbing a few stems which he gathered under your nose. You liked the harmony of the two plants, you already had an idea where to put these at your place. "I like them a lot, I'll take a bouquet," you stated, and he nodded, giving you a small smile as he walked over to the cash register. He remained motionless for a few seconds, his finger hovering above a key. You saw him take a deep breath before disappearing into the back office, making you frown for an instant.

Changmin reappeared a few seconds later and you looked at him in shock, expecting everything but this. He held out an arrangement of sunflowers and roses in front of you, the warm tones of yellow and red reminding you of the summer warmth.

"It's for you," he said, holding your gaze, the tips of his ears turning a crimson red. You remained a few seconds dumbfounded in front of the bouquet, not knowing what to do. "For me? But in what honour? I don't deserve it," you stated but he insisted with a nod, so you shyly took the bouquet and gave him a big smile, your heart pounding. "That's so sweet, thank you very much," you told him, plunging your nose into the flowers, the scent of the two flowers blending beautifully together. He seemed to be breathing again when he discovered pure happiness in your eyes, giving you a big smile as well.

“You are as radiant as a sunflower, I… I wanted to gift you some,” he confessed, and you were touched by his words. “And the red roses… well, I don't think I should draw you a picture,” his voice trailed, and you were both embarrassed, but you could still feel some connection emerge between you two. Looking at the flowers again, you noticed a small card hanging at the base of the bouquet, and you flipped it to read it.

"A date to celebrate my arrival here?" you asked, surprised he knew this information about you. "Only if you want to, of course. I accidentally overheard your discussion with Mr and Mrs Bae, I thought it would be a good opportunity for me to show you around the city," he scratched the back of his neck, an embarrassed look painted on his face, apprehensive about your reaction. "With great pleasure," he looked up and sighed in relief, making you smile at his behaviour. "Saturday morning in front of the bakery, is that okay with you?" "It's perfect." He smiled while nodding, his brown eyes lingering into yours for seconds that seemed to last forever, but he didn't feel so intimidated anymore.

He almost felt confident, and that only sounded promising for the days to come.

[thetaoofzoe]

FIC: The Sands Wharf 1/1

Title: The Sands Wharf

Pairing: Henry Cavill x YOU

Summary: You haven’t been in the mood to go out in a long time. But on a Saturday night, you were up for a little fun. A blind date match was just what you needed. 

Rating: FUN and Fluff and tooth rotting sweetness. Have a bit of levity in you life :D

Prompt: Blind date with Henry.

Word Count: 1100 (I hope it’s short enough)

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

Up much too early for a Saturday morning, you pulled yourself out of bed, and shuffled sleepily into the adjoining bathroom. In the darkness, you saw a faint pink light emanating from a triangular shape sitting by the edge of the sink. A slight smile of recognition pulled at your lips and turning on the taps you washed your hands beneath the cool flow. 

‘Good morning, Honey,’ you said aloud.

‘Good morning,’ answered a quiet, yet pleasant male voice which rose from the small pyramid shaped device.

The pink light pulsed with the words and then went still.

You touched the pointy top of the pyramid and it emitted a soft ding!

‘Are you ready for your matches?’ Honey asked.

‘Yes, I am. Let’s see what’s available for tonight, ok? I’m in the mood for a little fun.’

‘Of course,’ Honey answered sounding strangely happy. ‘You haven’t been interested in going out lately. I am pleased to be of service.’

You snorted to yourself and still in the dark, you brushed your teeth then walked the few paces to the shower to switch it on.

The pink light pulsed and the pyramid hummed as Honey busily searched its patented database.

Honey. 

Well, Honey wasn’t the device’s proper name. It was called ‘The Matchmaker’ and had come into your possession via a birthday present from an aunt who no longer required its services. She had found her hubby and wanted to spread the joy. 

‘The Matchmaker’ sounded so imperious and was frankly a stupid name, that you took advantage of the name change option and saved the most ridiculous name you could think of. Hence the little glass pyramid with the jaunty pink interior light called Honey was born.

Honey pinged again just as you stepped from the shower and wrapping up in your dressing gown, you stood on the fluffy green bathroom rug and waited.

‘One male. Matching your criteria. Located in the area. Available for tonight. Willing to meet at the Sands Wharf for dinner. 1800 hours. Optional pick-up from your flat.’

‘No pick-up,’ you answered quickly and made a disgusted face.

You’d made that mistake before and it wasn’t safe to have strange men knowing where you lived anyway.

‘I’ll meet him there, Honey.’

‘Noted. Photo is available.’

You paused, heart picking up speed.

The awful moment of truth, you thought. Were you going to be pulled in by his looks, or by his personality? Rarely, you got both.

‘Photo accepted,’ you said and picked up the warm glass pyramid.

Turning it over, you stared at the square bottom and gasped when the image of the man finally loaded.

‘Wow,’ you sang with surprise. ‘Honey, recheck this match please?’

You didn’t want to say that you didn’t believe someone that handsome was first, single, second met your requirements and third, was available to meet. Surely someone like that would have mobs of admirers.

As you waited, you stared down into his bright blue eyes and found yourself smiling back at his happy lopsided grin.

You’ve got fangs, you mused and giggled to yourself.

Honey hummed quietly as it worked.

Ding!

‘Match rechecked. There are no errors. Accept this date?’

‘Yes,’ you answered hastily. ‘No question!’

‘Noted. Name – Henry Cavill,’ said Honey. ‘It will take 36 and one half minutes to reach the Sands Wharf from your flat. A rideshare, bus line and the use of your own automobile are available transportation options.’

‘I’ll ride share,’ you said and Honey made arrangements.

You were to be ready by 1745 and you calculated how much time you had between now and then. And then, panic settled in, twisting your gut and filling you with pre-date butterflies.

Ding!

‘Don’t worry, you got this. He will be grateful to meet a woman like you. Go and knock him dead. You are beautiful and smart and did I say, beautiful? But first, whitening strips.’

You laughed at that. Honey was highly programmable and you’d entered the silliest pep talk message to be delivered in Honey’s calm male voice after a date was accepted. Even though you had scripted  it for yourself, hearing it in Honey’s voice always boosted your confidence and lifted your mood.

‘I’ll show him, won’t I,’ you said to Honey as you left the bathroom.

‘You will,’ Honey answered. ‘Good luck.’

**

The drive to the Wharf was pleasant but not long enough because you started to panic again when the car drove into the carpark and let you out.

But, you took in a breath, steeled yourself and walked up to the front of the open restaurant. The atmosphere was quiet yet gave off a happy upscale vibe. You gave your name to the concierge who smiled and walked you through the restaurant and to the back where it opened up to a gorgeous view of a huge lake.

Lighted decorative wooden boats bobbed on the dark waters and diners sat at white covered tables decorated with  glass enclosed candles. They seemed to be relaxed and enjoying themselves.

Suddenly a man rising to his feet and putting a hand into the air caught your attention. The concierge gestured for you to walk to him, but you were rooted to the spot, fear and excitement momentarily robbing you of motor function.

‘Is that not your gentleman?’ asked the concierge, sounding as if he was ready to spirit you away to safety if you gave the word.

Your crashing heart had made you breathless, but you managed to gasp, ‘No… I mean, yes. Yes, that’s him. Thank you.’

‘Enjoy your evening,’ he said pleasantly and turned to leave you in your excited misery.

You pressed yourself into motion and Henry’s beautiful smile broadened as you drew closer.

‘Hello,’ he said, admiration clear in his voice. ‘You look beautiful. Thank you for coming.’

He gestured to the chair that faced the pretty lake and pulled it out for you to sit down.

When he sat, you smiled at him and mentally high-fived Honey.

Good-fucking-job!

‘Shall I order for the both of us?’ he asked and folding your hands delicately on the table, you nodded.

‘Anything you want, Henry, I want.’

He looked up from the menu and met your level gaze.

‘Well, then,’ he said and his dark brow rose mischievously. ‘If that’s the case, I imagine we’ll get on famously.’

-end

[hopesbarnes]

Rosey Inn

Summary: Ten years ago you left your small town and small-town boyfriend believing you were destined for bigger and better things. But when your mom passes away and leaves the family Inn to you, you’re forced to face all you left behind.

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Maybe two curse words, fluff, angst, loss of parent

Word Count: 6.5k 

A/N: This was written for @wxntersoldiers​ 6k AU Challenge, I had the prompt Roomates!AU. 

Also a huge thank you to @starbxcks​​​ for beta reading this. Love you to pieces. (PS spot the gilmore girl reference and i’ll love you forever)

This was not the plan. None of this was the plan. Your entire life had meticulously put together to reach one goal. And now? Now you’re sharing a house with a boy you haven’t seen in a decade, back in your home town, and owning an inn.

Talk about cliche.

The town of Rose Hill is quaint. One supermarket, one high school, everyone knows everyone’s name quaint. The people are kind and overly lax in security and come together for events. It sits near a beautiful lake and is known for its tourism. The kind of place people dream of living. The perfect American lifestyle. 

Just not your dream. Since you were little you wanted one thing. To be a big shot New York lawyer. The kind that people know will get them off for any crime, and anything. You were going to be the success story of Rose Hill, the one to get out. The one to make it.

And you did. Got accepted into an Ivy League, finished school, and joined a practice. Until you got the phone call, that your mom passed away and left the family business to you. There went all your plans, all your dreams, everything. You were right back where you started in Rose Hill. 

The Rosey Inn was a landmark, built long before your grandparents were even born. Passed down through generations of L/Ns. Each owned/managed the inn and raised their families in it. You spent your childhood hiding in the maids closet, tasting the chef’s recipes, tending to the front garden, and reorganizing the books in the front room. 

You didn’t play alone though, you had Bucky. Bucky Barnes was your best friend and eventual boyfriend. His mom was a maid for the inn, and the pair of you grew up together. He was your everything and first love. But when you left for New York you wanted a fresh start, one that didn’t include the boy who’s life aspirations were to own a hardware store. So you dumped him and left, without saying goodbye. 

Your past was but a distant memory. Until you were back and looking at the familiar inn. 

“Y/N! Oh, how I missed you!” you hear the voice of Wanda, your best friend say.

“What are you doing here!” you ask greeting the red-headed girl. She had moved here Junior year of high school and you became fast friends. She was the only one you had contact with after leaving.

“Well, I took over as nighttime manager. And when I heard about your mom I decided to fill in on daytime until you could move back. I’m so sorry about her Y/N,” she says with sincerity in her voice. 

“She’s been sick for a while, I’m just happy she’s out of pain now,” you say and pull her into a hug.

“I’ll let you settle in, then tomorrow we can go over the inn and what needs to happen.” 

“Thank you Wanda for everything,” you say and head to the house.

The inn set back from the road, with plenty of space in front for parking and picnic areas. Behind it sat a large outdoor eating area, and a gazebo. But if you take the trail to the left, it leads to your childhood home. A three-bedroom house, with two floors and far enough to not be part of the inn, but close enough you could be there in case of an emergency. 

You expected the place to be overgrown and in need of a cleaning, but it looked as new as the day it was built. And a car was out front.

When you get closer to the house the door opens and you swear you jump ten feet into the air, only to hear the voice of the one person you hoped to avoid.

“Been a while sugar,” he says smiling. 

James Buchanan Barnes looks as good as he did ten years ago when you abandoned him. No scratch that, he looked better. The years did him good, his jaw was more chiseled and light scruff covered his face. His arm filled out and he wore a button-down. He looked refined, older but damn good looking.

“Sure has handy boy,” you smile back. “What are you doing in my home.”

“Must have your lines crossed, I live here now,” he says mischief across his face and eyebrow raised.

“In my childhood home?” you ask perplexed.

“Your momma was having a tough time the past few years and needed some help. She said I could live here if I helped her out. And when she got sick she put the house in my name too, saying you would need just as much, if not more, help when you got back.”

“So we’re roommates?” you ask hoping this was all a joke. 

“Sure are,” he smiles, “let me help you with your bag.”

“I have movers coming in a few days with the rest of my things, just brought enough until then.”

You walk into the home and it’s not the dusty and doily place you remember it. The furniture is all-new, and the decor is modern. The living room has a grey fabric couch with navy throw pillows and a coffee table with a cookbook and tray on it. There’s a sleek floor lamp next to it and a flat-screen tv across atop a tv stand with movies neatly packed inside. A soft rug is on the floor with a diamond pattern on it. The entire room looks like a page from a catalog and if your suspicions are right the rest of the house is as follows.

“I took the guest bedroom when I moved in, so your old bedroom is still yours,” he says and you nod heading up the stairs following him to your childhood bedroom. When he opens the door you see it’s the one room that hasn’t changed. It still looks as it did when you were 18 years old and leaving to be on your own. 

“I’m gonna have to update this room!” you say pointing to the outdated poster on your wall. 

“Your mom didn’t want to change it, she insisted it remains the way you left it,” he says with a sad smile. You may have lost your mom, but that didn’t mean he didn’t lose her too. 

“So many memories in this room,” you say and let a few flood back. Bucky’s cheeks heat up and you look down ashamed. He had to be thinking of the time the two of you first made love. You were 17, had the house to yourself, and did what you could on the small twin bed. 

“I’ll leave you to settle in, then we could get dinner?” he asks and you nod. You unpack the few outfits you brought along and mentally map out what furniture you’ll replace with the one from your apartment. After getting a little bit of the initial shock of being back, you sit down and take a deep breath. Not only were you going to be running an inn, but apparently you were going to be roommates with the only man you’ve ever really loved. Life really does throw curveballs, doesn’t it?

· · ──────────·🌹· ───────── · ·

The rest of the night was slightly awkward. Bucky ordered pizza and the two of you made idle chit chat while eating it. He offered to hang out with you, but you wanted to get up and going early so you decided to retire to your room instead. He gave a pained smile and wished you a good night. 

The next morning you woke up at dawn, a habit you had from being in law. Late nights and early mornings. After showering you get dressed in nice pants, a blouse, and some sneakers since you would be walking a lot today. You made a mental checklist of what needed to be done: meeting with Wanda and looking over the inn, visiting the safety deposit box, and arranging for a storage unit for the rest of your furniture. 

When you got downstairs Bucky was already dressed, in dark jeans and a flannel shirt over a faded t-shirt. 

“Morning,” he said and slid a cup of coffee your way.

“Thanks,” you say and take a sip from the mug. 

“I took the day off from the store and figured I could help you out today.”

“You didn’t need to do that. You’ve already done way more for my family than you ever needed to.”

“I love your family, even used to think they’d be my family one day,” he says. The last part comes out quieter than the rest and you feel a flood of guilt. 

“I’m meeting with Wanda in twenty minutes, but after could you help me run errands around town?” 

“Anything. I gotta fix up the back steps to the inn this mornin’ anyway. Might as well do them now,” he says lowering the coffee cup. He goes across the counter to where his glove is and puts it over his hand. 

Back in high school, he was attempting to make a table for his ma. He got distracted though and sawed into his arm. They had tried to save it, but the damage was done. Word had gone through the town and one woman told her fiancee (who just happened to be Tony Stark CEO of Stark Industries) and Bucky got a state of the art metal prosthetic. But you guess he was still embarrassed by it and hid it around everyone. Everyone but you it seems. 

The meeting with Wanda was exhausting. She went over everything from payroll, to linen deliveries, to the filing system. There was a wedding scheduled three and a half months from now that took the majority of the time, as your mom was originally in charge of the day. But everything seemed manageable with help. You moved Wanda to the official daytime desk manager and promoted Clint Barton to the nighttime manager. Wanda said he functioned best at night anyway. She introduced you to the other members of the team, Vision (her husband) was the head chef. Scott Lang was the bartender at night and events, Peter Parker was the bellhop on duty at the time. She said you would meet the rest of the staff at a later time, and that there weren’t any bad seeds in the bunch.

The two of you ate lunch together in the dining room and she filled you in on the staff gossip, little things to help run the inn better. Like how Clint needed coffee or would forget he was even alive, or how Peter Parker could usually lift more than you’d think but if MJ (his girlfriend walked in) he would almost always get distracted and walk into a wall.

After lunch, you texted Bucky (he had given you his new number last night) and met him at his car. 

“How was lunch,” he asks, walking up to you. His sleeves were rolled up now and he had sunglasses on.  His hair is a mess and his undershirt has paint stains on it. He’s got his toothy grin plastered across his face, and it’s the exact same one you fell in love with as a teen.

“Good, you fix up those stairs?” you ask and get into his car. He had a dark green pickup that was in desperate need of a wash. There was a toolbox in the back, but the front was spotless. 

“Yeah, even painted over them too.” Bucky was always the fixer. Helped out whenever he could, and didn’t mind getting a little roughed up in the process. It was always the biggest difference between you. Your life was carefully crafted and there was no room for mess.

The ride is quiet. You don’t even know what small talk to make with him anymore. Do you bring up sports? Ask about his mom? Tell him about New York? It all seemed too stiff and meaningless. 

You finally get to the bank and he offers to pick up some tea for you and him while you go to empty your mom’s safety deposit box. He knew this was something you needed to do alone, so he gave you your space. 

The bank had one small room of the locked boxes, and the teller came with you holding the second key to the box. Once the box was unlocked you moved to a small table and chair surrounded by walls for privacy. The bank teller leaves you alone with the contents and you take a deep breath in.

Inside the metal box are a few papers, your parent’s marriage certificate, and the deed to the house and the inn amongst them. There are also a few family heirlooms, two necklaces, and a ring. Your great grandpa’s watch is also in the box. But what sticks out is a letter with your name on it. You pull it out and read it.

“Dear Y/N,

If you’re reading this then I’m gone. We both knew this day would come and would bring you home to where you belong. Years ago you left, and I know you needed to do that. You had dreams of a better and bigger life, but you have to know in your heart that Rose Hill is where you need to be. 

I’m sure by now you have seen that Bucky lives in the house. He moved in a few years ago to help me out, and I told him to stay after I go. Y/N, I know you don’t want to hear this- especially from your mother, but he is the one. You two were meant to be. As soon as you stop running from that, you’ll feel at peace. He’s a good man and you need to let him have your heart again.

I trust you’ll handle the inn with grace and hopefully not sell it. It’s been in our family for many lifetimes, and I want it to continue that way. But if it’s too much give it to James. He’s family whether the pair of you are together or not.

Be kind to yourself dear.

Love,

Mom

You place the letter down and let the tears fall. It was too soon, you should have had her longer. And despite your best intentions of coming, staying a few months maybe a year and finding new owners you know you have to stay for good now. And for Bucky, you don’t even know. Bucky was the past, wasn’t he?

After you left the bank you went by a storage place then back to the room. The past three weeks have been a blur. The wedding was in less than three months and the bride decided to change the entire decoration scheme to be more ‘woodsy than classical’ and you were still figuring out what that even meant. Besides that, you were trying to figure out how to run an inn. People required directions you didn’t have so you were overwhelmed. 

Between the running around you were spending all the time you could reading articles and going through the binder your mom kept. You never really understood how much time and energy your parents put into running this place. Growing up you just thought they greeted people and were friends with the staff. It never dawned on you that running an inn is more than just owning the property. 

The spare minutes you had left were spent settling into your old life. Originally you planned to come back for a year and then move back. This was going to be a blip on the radar of your life. But you know now that was unrealistic and this is where you belong. So you officially list your place rather than lease it for a year. You formally quit your job, and you’d still have to fly back eventually for cases next year but that was a ways away. 

In the mornings you shared a coffee with Bucky, and at night the two of you ate dinner together. It was comfortable but awkward. Which was your fault. You knew it was your fault, you broke his heart and left. But you just didn’t know how to fix that. 

Most mornings were silent. You weren’t a morning person and Bucky wasn’t a talker. But today he had something to say. It only took three weeks, but better late than never. 

“Natasha and Steve invited us over,” he says and you nearly drop your cup.

“They got back together?” you ask completely shocked. 

While Wanda was who you stayed in touch with and one of your closest friends, Natasha was your best friend beside Bucky. The two of you met in dance class and became close. In middle school, she started dating Steve, who is Bucky’s best friend. They were the perfect pair, she was the fiery redheaded dancer and he was the timid but loyal baseball player. However, in Junior year of high school, they broke up after Natasha got drunk at a party and admitted that Steve wasn’t her first. 

He had felt betrayed that she lied and broke up with her and she sobbed on your shoulder for a whole week. You and Bucky got in a fight about it too because he had taken Steve’s side and said she shouldn’t have lied. You fiercely defend Natasha though. It wasn’t her fault she had a hookup with an asshole that she tried to forget.

“Yeah. After high school, Steve and I got a place together while we went to the community college. One day we decided to go to a party at the university in the city. And the next day Natasha was in my kitchen. They had a ‘benefits’ only relationship for a few months before realizing they were idiots and got back together officially. Tied the knot maybe four years ago?” he explains. 

“I’d love to see them again,” you say cordially. Hopefully, they didn’t resent you for leaving.

“We’ll go over for dinner?” he asks and you nod.

“I’ll see you later.”

“Good morning!” Wanda sings when you see her. She’s awfully cheery today and dressed up. She has a black lace dress with a high neckline. She’s wearing a pair of velvet burgundy heels and looks stellar. 

“You are way too happy and look amazing today. Why?!” you ask laughing and she laughs with you.

“I may have an appointment with an adoption agency today,” she says smiling.

“WHAT! Oh my god! Wanda, that’s so exciting!” you say and pull her into a hug. Wanda’s wanted kids since you were 16 and found out a few years ago she can’t get pregnant. 

“I don’t want to get too excited because it’s going to take a while. But we’re starting the process,” she says.

“I wish you and Vis the best. I’m so excited Wan.”

The day went by in a flash. Wanda had to leave early so you were on your own for part of the day. But it went good and you were finally feeling like you had this in the bag. 

· · ──────────·🌹· ───────── · ·

You get back from work and change into more casual clothes. When you get downstairs Bucky is waiting in a leather jacket. You can tell he’d showered since work because his hair is still damp and he isn’t covered in his signature dirt and sawdust. 

“Ready?” he asks and you smile. 

“As I’ve ever been,” you say and he leads you out to his truck. Your car had been brought here two weeks ago so you didn’t have to rely on him to drive you everywhere anymore but it made sense to go in one car for this. 

The Rogers live in a nice house with a large backyard across town. It’s no more than a 15-minute drive, and you arrive at the house with a flower garden outside and scattered kids’ toys in the yard.

“They have kids?” you ask your eyes widening at the idea of Natasha Romanoff with children.

Bucky laughs, “Twins! A happy surprise though. You’ll love my godchildren.” 

“You’re a godfather?” you ask trying to not let the sadness of all you missed seep in. 

“Yeah, why they hypothetically trusted me with their literal children I don’t know.” 

The two of you walk up to the door and before you can open it a flash of red hair is seen and then you’re encompassed in a tight hug. 

“I really missed you,” she says and the two of you move in a circle without letting each other go. A few tears fall from your face but you wipe them away.

“Hi Natty,” you say and she smiles pulling apart. She moves your hair from your face and tilts her head at you. 

“If it isn’t my best friend finally. You look amazing. I really missed you,” she says and pulls you into another hug. It seems she holds no malice against you and a weight leaves your shoulders. 

“I missed you too Mrs. Rogers,” you say and tilt your head smirking. 

“C’mon in Steve’s cooking and I have two people for you to meet.”

When you walk into the living room you’re greeted by two three-year-olds. 

“Y/N meet Sarah and James,” she says motioning to the two blondes. “Sarah and James meet your aunt Y/N.”

The two kids wave and smile and say hi synchronously. They were adorable and had Natty’s eyes. 

“No hello to me?” Steve says coming in the room and you walk over and give him a hug. “We missed you here, big shot.” 

“I missed you guys too. All of you,” you say and look over at Bucky. He lets a small smile cover his face but drops it when he sees you looking.

Over dinner, they fill you in on what you missed. After school, Natasha took over the local dance studio and turned it into a competition studio that was doing fairly well. They were winning titles and having girls travel just to be taught by her. Steve on the other hand became a teacher and is teaching high school history as well as coaching the baseball team. It’s as if no time had passed and the four of you are talking like you did growing up. The kids warm up to you and sit next to you and draw pictures with you.  

When their bedtime comes Bucky and Steve wrangle them and agree to read stories, so Natasha pulls you outside to the patio. 

“So,” she says and you give her a confused look. “What’s it like living with your ex-boyfriend?” she says and you gulp.

“Oh. That,” you say. “That is bringing up feelings I don’t want.” 

“I always thought you two would get married at 19. He was so lost after you left. We all were but especially him. And he still looks at you as if you hung the moon.”

“I broke his heart, it’s not fair of me to do this to him again,” you say and she grabs your hand.

“Babe, you were young and messed up. Don’t let that get in the way of your happiness.”

· · ──────────·🌹· ───────── · ·

Natasha’s words hang on your conscious for a while. Every time you look at Bucky for the next two weeks you think of them. 

The two of you start talking over coffee in the morning, and there’s definitely long wanting gazes and the need to be close. He’ll touch your hand when handing you something, and you’ll fix his hair and lay your head on his shoulder while watching movies. 

He tells you jokes over texts and you send him gifs every time he complains about a customer. You were falling back into the way you used to be and you are so happy. 

On Friday he asked if you guys could talk after work. Which was his right, he needed answers and you needed to ask about your mom. It had been two months now since you returned and you needed to air it all out. But knowing this made you feel jittery all day long. You kept spacing out or walking into the wrong room and everyone could tell you were a mess. It got to the point where you were doing more harm than good and Wanda sent you home. 

It turns out that Bucky had finished early that day too because when you got home he was there. 

“Hi,” you say awkwardly.

“Hi sugar,” he says smiling.

“You finished your day handy boy?” you ask and take your jacket off and hang it on the hook.

“Sure did. Only had a few customers at the store and figured I could close up early. And there was no fixing to do at the inn so I figured I would come back and relax for the night. How about you?” 

“Wanda sent me home. Said I was ‘hurting her flow’. You wanna order some food tonight?” you ask trying to keep up some small talk. 

“What I really want is to get drunk and have you be honest with me,” he says bluntly forgetting the politeness his mama taught him. 

“Well, Okay. That- We can do that. Still need some food I’ll order some Chinese.” you say pulling out your phone to order delivery from the shop down the road. 

An hour later the two of you have eaten and are both slightly tipsy. 

“Why’d you break up with me Y/N?” he asks finally.

You turn to him and shrug, “I wanted to be successful and I thought I needed someone who wanted the same success as me. I wanted to leave the past behind and that meant you. But I was too chicken shit to tell you. James, I regretted it every day.” 

He gulps audibly and takes a long swig from his drink. 

“I was so lost. I was going to marry you. Move up north with you. I knew that was where you needed to be and I wanted to be who you needed too.” he says.

“You were who I needed. Still are if we’re being honest. I just didn’t know that then.” you say and look down embarrassed. I thought you’d have moved on now. Settled with a nice girl, maybe Maria or Darcy. Had a few kids.” you admit.

“Can’t settle down when you’re still hung up on a girl,” he says and you look at him.

“Bucky I still love you. But you don’t deserve me. You deserve someone better.” you say. 

“I deserve you. And as much as I want to show you that we’re both drunk and you’re still dealing with grief,” he says.

“So what now?” you ask.

“Now we wait. Make sure this is right and not just unresolved feelings,” he says.

“And if it is?” you ask.

“Then I move out and we pretend this never happened,” he says and downs the rest of his drink. You follow suit. 

“Can I ask something?” you say after a few moments of quiet.

“Anytime sug, I’m an open book.”

“Was she mad? I didn’t come home when she got sick and I barely talked to her after dad died. I should have come back. I was a bad daughter,” you say and a tear falls down your face. He grabs your hand that was peeling a label off the bottle.

“Honey, she wasn’t mad. She was so proud of you. Told everyone about your cases and watched the news whenever you were mentioned. You made her so proud.”

“Thank you for being there for her.”

“She was my family too. I think we should get some rest though. It’s been a long night,” he says and you nod and head up to your room.

The next morning you wake up with a headache but see medicine and water on your bedside table. It’s then you decide that you were gonna try to make it up to Bucky. There was a chance to mend this and have the relationship you once had, and you had to take that chance. No way were you losing this man again. Once was hard enough. So you decide this time around you have to court him.

When the pair of you were young, only 13, Bucky had learned from Natasha through Steve at the time that you liked him. So he made it his mission to properly court you. It had started with notes and small trinkets, and after two weeks he knocked on your door with two bouquets of flowers (one for your momma and one for you) and asked your parents if it was alright if the pair of you dated. 

They had of course said yes, knowing Bucky his entire life and planning your wedding with his parents when you were still kids. But back then you didn’t break his heart. Now you needed to figure out a way to mend it. 

· · ──────────·🌹· ───────── · ·

There were two weeks until the wedding and you decided you needed to ask Bucky to be your ‘date’ there. He was obviously already invited because he was needed to make sure nothing broke and if it did it could be fixed. But you wanted him there as yours.

You woke up the next day early and went into town to get his favorite bagels and a rose. You got back to the house just as he made it downstairs and gave him the flower and food.

“Thank you? Why go through the hassle when we have food here?” he asks.

“I’m wooing you.”

“Doll, you do not need to woo me. I’m already wooed!” he says laughing.

“No, I messed up. And you deserve to be properly apologized to. So I’m wooing and you’re going to let me.”

“Okay,” he says shaking his head and taking a bite from his bagel. 

Day one: success. 

Day two starts when he gets back from work. You tell him that the pair of you are going on a date and tell him to wear a good pair of shoes. He gives you a weird look but agrees. You bring him to a club outside of town and once he sees it he can’t stop laughing. 

When you and him were 16 you decided to try and get into a club. You both had horribly made fake ids and dressed up to look older. You were obviously turned away, but his car had refused to start after all that effort. So you both danced outside to his mp3 player while you waited for AAA to show up. 

“I figured we could recreate that night, without AAA and the awful heels,” you say and he nods his head. You pull into the abandoned lot you spent hours in years ago. After parking, you grab your phone and put on a playlist of songs that were popular at that time and spend the next two hours just dancing. Completely embarrassingly and in a way nobody your age should. But it’s nice and the pair of you just let go.

Days three and four aren’t that eventful as you both have a lot of work. So instead you hide little notes throughout his things both days. They’re nothing special, just enough to let him know you’re thinking of him and how much you like him. 

Day five you greet him after he closes the hardware store with a vintage Brooklyn Dodgers hat. His grandpa had loved the team and told Bucky all about them. You had to scour online for the hat and it was worth it when you saw the look on Bucky’s face. His eyes widened and he pulled you into a close hug. You would never admit it to him but you took a deep inhale of his scent.

Day 6’s plans were changed when Steve called and said Nat didn’t feel good and wondered if you would take the twins for the day and night. You told them you had to check with Bucky but would head over as soon as you heard from him. 

Bucky of course was over the moon to have the kids over so you went and grabbed them after hanging up with him. When you got there Steve had packed each kid an overnight bag and handed them to you with their blankets and stuffed animals. Apparently Bucky bought them for the twins when they were born and they refused to sleep without them. 

The twins were ecstatic to sleepover ‘aunt y/n and uncle Bucky’s place’ and babbled to each other the entire drive. You got there and saw Bucky’s truck so you figured he took the rest of the say off for the kids. 

The rest of the day was spent running around the yard and showing the kids the inn and it reminded you so much of your childhood with Bucky. You wouldn’t mind your own kids playing here too you think to yourself. 

After getting the kids to eat dinner and putting them to bed in the guest room you’re wiped and fall asleep with Bucky on the couch. 

You wake up early the next day to little hands patting your shoulder. You manage to get up without waking up Bucky and bring the kids to the kitchen. Day 7 would be breakfast in bed you suppose. 

· · ──────────·🌹· ───────── · ·

It was one week now until the wedding and you were stressed. The mothers decided to come in now and make your life a living hell by trying to undo everything the couple had done. Thor and Jane had made it perfectly clear to ignore their parents and you were doing your best to.

You told Bucky to meet you at the inn today since you couldn’t make it out to him, and when he arrived you had Vis make your lunch and the two of you picnic in the garden. 

Day 9 was a big one because you were asking Bucky to be your date today. You lit candles around the house and had a big sign asking him to be your date. It mimicked how he asked you to prom all those years ago.

You got dressed up and waited impatiently for him to come home. When you heard his car you dimmed the lights in the house and held the sign for him to read. He came in and smiled at your setup.

“Doll, of course, I’m going to be your date,” he says laughing and pulls you close to him.

“You know you don’t need to do the rest of your wooing. We can just make it official now,” he says and you shake your head. 

“James Buchanan you let me finish my last 5 days.” 

“I just want to kiss you,” he whines and you laugh at his frustration.

“Soon Handy Boy I promise.”

Day 10 you go to the old drive-in theater with him. Wedding prep is just about done and you had the night off. You fill his truck with blankets and pillows after telling him the plan and having him grab snacks and drinks for you both.

The place is playing Edward Scissorhands and Beetlejuice in a Tim Burton back to back showing and it’s a good excuse to spend the night watching good movies and snuggled close to the man you love.

Day 11 and 12 you bake for him. The first of two nights cookies, the second muffins. He thanks you for both but asks if you’re trying to Hansel and Gretel him.

Day 13 was the day before the wedding and the entire family had come into town. The entire inn was rented out to the Foster-Odinson clan. It was all hands on deck and it was the fullest you’ve seen the inn yet. But despite the craziness, everything runs smoothly. 

Midway through the day Wanda gets a call she was approved to adopt and was so excited she yelled it out. The entire place let out collective squeals (even people who had no clue who Wanda was) and the day just had a good tone to it.

For the last day before the wedding, and your last night of the ‘wooing’ you cook Bucky dinner. He’s surprised by the fact the house doesn’t burn and compliments your meal at least ten times. You tell him about Wanda and Vision.

“Do you want kids?” he asks and you nod.

“I want a bunch of kids. I want to raise them here too. With you,” you say and he chokes on his drink.

“God Doll, I want that too but don’t be that blunt about things. I’m getting older, don’t need a heart attack.” You laugh and he smiles. 

· · ──────────·🌹· ───────── · ·

After what feels like a lifetime the day is finally here. You’re up and out of the house before Bucky even wakes. He’s sleeping in since the store is closed today and he doesn’t have to be at the inn until 11 am. 

The bride and her bridesmaids are all drinking coffee and nibbling on light pastries when you get there. The makeup and hair team she hired should be here in around an hour. Jane has gel eye patches beneath her eyes and one of the bridesmaids still has their hair in a towel. 

After checking that they’re all there and everything is running smoothly you check in on the kitchen staff. They all say things are on schedule and you nod and go to find Scott to ensure that the bar is fully stocked.

On your way to check with Scott, you find Peter carrying the suits up to the groomsmen and he wishes you a good morning. Scott, you find a few minutes later organizing the liquor. Everything seems to be running smoothly.

A few hours go by and it’s an hour until the wedding starts. You thank your lucky stars that everything runs smoothly as the guests start showing up. You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn to see Bucky in a suit. He looks fantastic and you practically drool.

“How’s my favorite wedding coordinator,” he asks and you smile.

“She’s fantastic. How’s my favorite handy boy,” you ask in return.

“He wants to know if he’s waited long enough for his kiss.” You laugh at him.

“He has. He should know that there’s a certain girl fully in love with him who would die for a chance to be his girlfriend again,” you say laying it all out.

Bucky smiles widely, “I love you too Y/N. It would be an honor to be yours again.” 

Before you can reply to him he pulls you close and smashes his lips against yours. There’s so much want and need in the kiss and you can almost feel the years lost in it. He doesn’t hold back at all and reaches one arm around you to pull you as close as possible. The other holds your hand and he keeps his lips moving in time with yours. 

And you know that it’s everything you need. He’s everything you ever need. 

[all-hail-the-witcher]

out of time

so this is an original work. and yes, i did tag list it because i want to know if people like it/find it interesting. ive been slowly building this universe for the last like 6 years and i legitimately want to write a novel in this universe and this might be the beginnings of the first chapter. you dont have to read it if you dont want to though.

_____

genre: angst i guess

warnings: implied death/violence, visions that could be interpreted as hallucinations, implied anxiety, distress

words: 2791

editing: yes

*note: the bold and italics together represent talking telepathically (sorry if its confusing)

_____

Lynnie where are you?

Trace counted slowly to five as he waited to hear his sister’s response echo in his head.

Dance floor, came his sister’s gentle voice. Your 1 o’clock.

Trace’s eyes scanned the dance floor below him before finally landing on his little sister. The ancient castle that the Friday night dances were held in was definitely not Trace’s favorite place, but tonight he was willing to put aside his hatred for the drafty candlelit rooms and appreciate the long walkway at the top of the grand staircase for giving him a full view of the room below. His shoulders relaxed as he saw Lynnie on the arm of some boy with too much gel in his hair. Her massive poof of an evening gown glistened like freshly fallen snow in the candlelight as she twirled.

Don’t knock over the punch bowl again, he warned, savoring the uncharacteristic misstep he saw her take.

Oh shut up. He could practically hear her eye roll. What’s up though? Do you see someone?

Trace was certain that nothing was amiss and normally he trusted his instincts, but tonight he took his time scanning the area again, even squinting at the frosted glass windows for good measure, just to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. No, he thought, shifting his weight back and forth subtly so he could feel the small vial tap against his chest. I just have a feeling.

He watched as Lynnie curtseyed, bidding farewell to the boy she was dancing with before navigating her way through the crowd and towards the staircase.

Hold tight, I’m coming.

Trace nodded, unable to formulate a response. His hands were suddenly itching to grasp the vial.

Trace’s Gift was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it helped many people and saved countless lives. But on the other hand, it meant that he had to take a horrifying look into the future, which was often not the happiest place. It wasn’t as if he could prepare for it either, he never knew when his Gift would demand to be felt.

The urge to grab the vial jerked through his body again, jolting him forward into the railing. The room began to blur in front of him and he squeezed the ornately carved wood with such force that he was sure it would break. Lynnie please, I need you, Lynnie please, please, Lynnie-

A hand gripped his shoulder and he jumped, reaching blindly into the inside of his navy blue suit jacket for his father’s knife, cursing himself for letting his guard down.

“Hey! It’s just me! I’m here.”

“Lynnie.” The immediate safety his sister emanated overwhelmed him and he slumped forwards into her unexpecting arms, the knife clattering to the ground, forgotten. Lynnie tensed as she attempted to keep him from drowning in her dress and he distantly wondered if she was worried. Surely she should know that this was just another vision, right? There was no real need for her to worry, the visions themselves weren’t the dangerous part. It was what happened after that she should be worried about.

But then again he had just collapsed on her, and dropped his knife accidentally for the first time since he’d been seven and gotten scared by a mouse that had snuck into the training room. That mouse had been scary, scary scary mouse. But he had just wanted to touch it, touch it, just touch it-

Lynnie’s muttered uncharacteristic string of curse words interrupted his thoughts. “Just hang on a minute Trace.”

Had he said that out loud? Oh no. Even at their worst, Trace had always had control over his visions. He firmly clamped his mouth shut, choosing instead to focus on the pressure of Lynnie’s arm around his shoulder as she guided him into one of the private rooms, away from the people that were undoubtedly staring at the scene he was making them. Hopefully no one would tell his mother about this embarrassment.

Before they could duck into the safety of the room, Trace’s hand unpinned itself from his side and thrust itself at the vial. He struggled against the unseen force drawing his hand towards his neck. “Stop...it,” he grunted, squeezing his eyes shut forcefully. Lynnie froze next to him, no doubt staring at the spectacle in front of her. Lynnie. He couldn’t let her see him like this, succumbing to an invisible force. With renewed determination he clenched his fist tightly and finally managed to fling his arm back in the opposite direction.

He opened his eyes, unable to hide his relief as he felt the tension momentarily drain from his body. He could control this. All he had to do was get into the room.

He reached out to grab the doorway, ready to pull himself inside and get the vision over with already when the air became still. Too still. He squinted suspiciously, straining his ears for even a snippet of the previously overwhelming noise from the dance below. Trace slowly turned his head down towards his chest, dread overcoming him once again. Screams bounced around his head, imploring him to just touch the vial already! His hands were stuck, floating in the air, unsure whether to listen to his mind or his heart. One commanding voice rose above the rest, drowning them out.  

Look at your sister. What do you see?

Trace’s gaze hardened as he forced himself to focus. Lynnie emerged from the fuzziness, holding up the majority of his weight despite the fact that she was wearing a huge blue sequined ball gown and heels. In that ball gown he knew there were exactly five hidden knives in addition to her white pouch of fairy dust. She was wearing their grandma’s diamond necklace and chandelier earrings, her long blonde hair arranged in an elaborate updo. One of her earrings had scratched the side of her neck and he found himself wanting to reach into his own fairy dust bag and smear some over the minnescule mark. The delicate silvery swirls of her dust marks graced her shoulders and bare arms, their familiar patterns grounding him. Tiny lines puckered up between her eyebrows and around her mouth, the only evidence suggesting she was worried. Her eyes, the same steely blue-green as his, remained unreadable.

No. Look deeper. What do you see?

Trace squinted. There was the tiny scar above her left eyebrow that she had gotten when she was six and trying to shoot her bow for the first time. The arrow had rebounded backwards and smashed into her forehead. He had never told anyone, but looking at his sister’s face frozen in shock with blood gushing out of her forehead had been the first time he had been really, truly worried. The spray of freckles across her nose looked exactly like the ones that littered his mother’s face. She was the only one of all his siblings that shared their mother’s freckles. Her silver hoop earring glinted in the candlelight from its position at the top of her ear. He had given her that piercing at two am in their kitchen when she had been thirteen and their father had said she couldn’t get one. She referred to it as the “first of many acts as a rebellious teen” and so far she hadn’t disappointed. There was the birthmark on her right wrist that looked like an x. She often joked that she had probably been stabbed there in a past life because “x marks the spot.” Everytime she mentioned it he couldn't help but shudder - he did not like the thought of his sister ever being stabbed, no matter what life it had been. She was too important for him to ever fathom losing. Her eyes were set, the determined glint in them reminding him of the way she looked when he proposed a crazy idea to her, except there was something else there as well. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on…

“Trace?”

He snapped back into the present, immediately resuming fighting his body as his eyes clouded over again. “Hm?”

“Are you ready to go inside?”

Strangely enough, he smiled despite the circumstances, finding himself grateful for his sister’s perpetual calm and collected state. She was always so dependable, there without question any time he needed her. He could only hope that she thought the same of him.

He nodded, letting himself be led through the doorway before slumping to the floor, not trusting the bed in the slightest. Who knew what kinds of unspeakable things had happened there.

“I need- it's- the vial, the one around my neck,” he said, quieting the screaming voices clouding his consciousness. “It’s time.”

She nodded in understanding. “What do you want me to do?”

“Pull me out.”

Unable to wait for a response, Trace’s hand snapped up from his side again, this time successfully clutching the vial, issuing a guttural scream as images flashed faster than lightning before his eyes. With every anxious breath the images cycled faster and faster, until he couldn’t see anything but color after color after color until they morphed together to form a murky image.

It was dark. That was all he was able to register, darkness. And water. Somewhere water was dripping, pinging against what must have been a stone floor. A door banged open and a bright white shaft of light splayed in, illuminating the bars of the jail cell in front of him. He shielded his eyes, blinking as he scanned the area. To his horror, when he looked into the cell across from him he was met with a gaunt skeleton person staring blankly back at him, their blue-green eyes empty. But he wasn’t the only one. There was another in the cell next to that, and next to that, and as far as Trace could see in the eerie lighting. He looked back to the person in the cell across from him, inhaling sharply when he noticed red marks glinting on their arms, like dust marks that had been ripped off.

Heavy footsteps echoed off the cells and he craned his neck. Coming towards him was a tall man with clean cut hair. He walked slowly, peering into each cell as he went, but said nothing to its inhabitants. Behind him was a girl with a roughly cut black bob, her silhouette flicking on the wall as if she wasn’t really there. The only thing he could see was her eyes, bright purple against the blackness. She was gone as soon as she had come and it was just the man again. The man was close to his cell now. There was a muffled curse from the cell across from him and something glinted against the man’s all black ensemble, something long and pointy and sharp and-

The dim cell block swirled and changed. This time there was a girl with short hair and blunt bangs dressed in green and brown traipsing through the woods. Peeking out from under her shirt were silver dust tattoos, swirling down her shoulders and arms in a familiar pattern, catching the light in the exposed places. Her brown eyes were heavy as she trekked through an overgrown pathway with shaky steps, a sword sheathed on her back. No, not just any sword. His sword. The family one that had been passed down through so many generations that they had lost track. What was she doing with his sword?

As she came closer he could see a boy trailing behind her, his mouth moving with words Trace couldn't hear. But while the girl’s clothes blended into her surroundings, the boy was wearing a tattered pink shirt that made him stick out against the trees. It was clear that he was bothering the girl, and Trace wondered why she didn’t just ditch him. Tactically, he didn’t seem any more useful than a pile of leaves.

The girl, still ignoring the boy’s rambling, tensed slightly and slowed her pace. Up ahead, two figures had appeared on the path in the traditional green fight clothes, weapons drawn. The girl unsheathed the sword and he saw her flinch as her eyes hardened, the briefest flash of blue in a sea of brown. He opened his mouth to call out but words escaped him as the colors flashed again.

This time when the haze cleared he was outside the castle. People dressed in formalwear were running around him, clinking their various blades against an army of black-clad soldiers on a moon-lit battlefield. Screams and cries echoed against the blooming red sky. Distantly, the raid siren was blaring. Instincts kicking in, Trace felt himself taking a low stance and reaching into his jacket for a blade.

One black-clad figure flew past him, sword drawn, target locked. Trace followed the figure's path as he ran several more steps before smacking his blade against one of a blonde boy wearing a navy blue suit that had obviously seen better days. The blonde boy moved in a familiar manner as he jumped, dodged and stabbed at the blade of his attacker. His skill was apparent, but there was doubt clouding his features. Despite the enemy in front of him, the blonde boy’s sword began to hesitate, deflecting the blows only at the last minute until the opposing blade ripped open his dress shirt, gushing blood onto the cobblestones. The dark figure jumped over the body and onto his next victim, but Trace found himself staring at the fallen boy, his stomach sinking with every breath.

He looked up, scanning the crowd of tattered fighters, half hoping that he wouldn’t see her, that this wasn’t possible. There were too many people, she would never find them. But a path appeared in the chaos there she was, blonde hair coming undone as she ran, shreds of blue ball gown cascading around her as she dodged attacker after attacker, heading straight towards the fallen boy at Trace’s feet.

She sank down beside him, tears already staining her cheeks as she swiftly grabbed his sword and scabbard. She placed a gentle hand on the ripped shoulder of his suit, pieces of her hair falling in front of her face like a curtain, giving her a much needed sense of privacy. But Trace could still see her shaking hands reach down and unclip something from around the boy's neck, fastening it instead to her own. She leaned her face down, lips moving in some inaudible phrase before she kissed the boy's forehead. She stood slowly, keeping her eyes trained on the boy for as long as possible before a shout from somewhere further down startled her and she tore past Trace, away from the battle, down the street and-

Come back to me Trace.

Trace gasped, the bloody cobblestone street and clashing blades slipping away as he was drawn back by Lynnie’s voice. He left his eyes closed, focusing on his sweat dripping off his nose and onto his hands, which were tightly clasped in his sister’s. He didn’t move as he attempted to process the fragmented scenes that he had just witnessed. His eyes grew heavy as he found himself arriving at the same conclusion each time. The Gift never lied, he had learned that the hard way. This time though he couldn’t help but hope that it was wrong. It had to be wrong. There was no way that-

Trace. Breathe, Lynnie’s voice spoke in his head. Thankfully she had the sense not to speak out loud. But then, she always seemed to know exactly what he needed. He should have told her that more often.

Almost involuntarily, he felt his lungs fill with much needed air again and again, pushing his tears pushed further and further down with every breath.

What did you see?

I, uh, Trace paused, not knowing how to articulate what he had seen. Normally he always shared his visions with Lynnie, but this time he didn’t think he could. Well, not entirely. There were still things she needed to know. The time had come and he had to pass the job onto her now. What he needed to say had to be said out loud.

“I know what the vial around my neck is,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion.

Lynnie waited several long moments to respond. “What is it?”

“It’s hope,” he looked up at her for the first time and took a deep breath, holding onto as much of the calm moment as he could. He knew it wasn’t going to last. “Protect it at all costs.”

In the distance, the raid sirens began to blare.

_____

for a culmination of 6 years of work its not the best. but i like the au i created and i would be open to writing fics in that au to develop it more if people want. or i also have like, 2 other characters developed in this universe and if people want i could write about them 

anyway thanks for reading, comments are always appreciated, hmu to be on the tag list

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@pinecovewoods

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing​

@getchapapes

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@stellar-alpaca

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@panpervinca

[prettywordsyouleft]

A Christmas Date

Summary: When Minhyuk finally convinced you to see his band play this Christmas, you were hesitant to allow your heart to be swayed any more than it already had been.

Pairing: Kang Minhyuk x reader (ft. CNBLUE)

Genre: Christmas au / fluff / co-workers to lovers au

A/N: Welcome to Christmas in July! This mini collab with @this-song-thats-only-for-you has been so much fun to create! Since Minhyuk’s birthday was the same day as Daehyun’s, I chose to write for him now. And I hope @noona-clock doesn’t mind, whenever I think of Jungshin/CNBLUE, I naturally think of her story Something’s Brewing and so a couple of details in this stem from that world. I highly recommend you go read that story if you haven’t some time!

Word count: 3754

“You’ll be there, right?”

Glancing up to meet Minhyuk’s expectant gaze, you smiled weakly. “Christmas in the Park? Listen, Minhyuk, I-”

“You’re not going to ditch me again, are you?” he intervened, shooting you a pout. Oh god, not the pout. He then grinned and your heart began to thump noisily in your chest.

You were doomed.

Working with Kang Minhyuk was a blessing and a curse. You hadn’t expected when the tall man walked into your florist one day with a resume under his arm that you would be struggling this much six months later. He was capable in every way, and whilst that meant you could trust him to ensure that business went well whenever you weren’t in the shop, it also made you aware of all his little mannerisms. How his smiles were able to make everyone who walked into the store feel a little weak at the knee, his arrangement skills impressing even the most sceptical of people that flowers could be more than just beautiful. He was polite yet playful, generous with his skills and his time, and incredibly thoughtful.

How such a man existed, you weren’t sure, and knowing that he had other talents in life seemed completely unfathomable. It was highly unfair that Minhyuk was able to do so much, remain humble and be utterly gorgeous on top of all of that.

And that was why you had a hard time accepting doing anything with him outside of work.

“Y/N,” he called, the slight whine in his voice making you wish for the ground to open up and swallow you whole, and yet you wanted to relish in the sound for the rest of your life as well. It was ridiculous the effect Minhyuk had over you, and as his boss, you struggled with maintaining the incredibly fine line between being professional and falling at his feet.

“I don’t do well in crowds,” you mumbled feebly and whilst it was the truth, it was an excuse and he knew it.

“You’ll have fun, I promise. I’ll make sure that you’re with Jungshin’s girlfriend, Becky, the whole time. She’ll look after you; she’s a seasoned pro at coming to our gigs and at avoiding being stuck in sticky crowd situations. Plus you promised me. This is a huge deal for me and I want you there!”

Staring up at Minhyuk, you could tell you were blushing at that last sentence. Why did he want you there? You knew if you went it would be game over for your heart. He was passionate about his music, that much you could already tell. And with how much you had already fallen for Minhyuk within this garden bed of roses, you knew if you stepped outside with him, away from what you knew, that it would be impossible to maintain your working relationship. Seeing Minhyuk out of this florist could make it harder for you to see him in it the next time. And with it being so close to Christmas, well, you needed him. Orders were only going peak over the next week, and he really did the best arrangements.

“It’s Christmas time, where’s your generous spirit, huh?” You huffed at his question and he chuckled, knowing he was getting under your skin. “I’m not going to let you get out of this, Y/N. You told me that you’d come to see us perform before the end of the year.”

“I have no choice?” you asked and Minhyuk nodded firmly. “What will you do if you make me come and I don’t enjoy your music?” He was genuinely surprised by your statement though he recovered quickly, laughing as he nudged you playfully. “What will you do if you love it?”

You would die, you were certain of it. But you couldn’t tell him that, smiling softly to yourself instead. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

“So you’ll come?!”

Ignoring the puppy-like excitement now filling his features, you nodded once, confirming your attendance.

Though you were truly worried about what you had gotten yourself into.

The day of the event, you had attempted to get out of going. Your bedroom looked like a riot had gone off within it; clothing was strewn across your bed from countless deliberation of what to wear. You didn’t know how to dress for such an outing and since this would be your first time appearing in Minhyuk’s world not as his boss and fellow colleague, you were conflicted further. What if you wore something that he would tease you about on Monday? You were so used to wearing blouses and dress pants or dresses in his company that you almost opted for one of your work attires just to ease some of your anxiety. Yet, Christmas in the Park was an outdoor music event, and you would be spending quite a number of hours out in the cool wintry air.

That left you with not a lot of fashionable pieces to extenuate and to opt for comfort over style. You still wanted to look good, however, scolding yourself for wanting to make a good impression on not only Minhyuk but his friends too. This wasn’t a date, and yet your brain was convincing you otherwise. Settling on your favourite pair of jeans, a woollen jumper, your dress coat and a pair of boots, you fumbled your way through your makeup, picking up your phone and writing multiple renditions of plausible excuses to Minhyuk along the way. You felt uneasy as you did your hair, worrying that you would look clearly older than him and his friends. What would they think of you as his boss? It was nerve-wracking and when your phone suddenly went off in your hand as you thought over how to word being sick in a believable way for the umpteenth time, you shrieked. Managing to only drop the device into your lap and not onto the floor, you retrieved it and opened up the message you had received.

1:13pm Minhyuk: You better not think of a single excuse to send me. I’ll see you at three!

Groaning at his innate ability to read you even this far apart, you sent him back a can’t wait response and stared at your reflection before letting out a big sigh.

You could do this.

Arriving at the park that the event was being held at, you were pleasantly surprised by the atmosphere. It was your first time attending the event, normally opting to remain indoors when it was this cold. Despite the crowds that were already forming, it seemed more welcoming than you expected. Families were setting up their designated spots and fuelling their children with hot food and drinks from their packed bags, and wrapping blankets over their legs. Teens gathered together by the edge of the stage gossiping about the hottest bands that would be attending tonight. Adults like yourself seemed to be relieved for a break from the office and to socialise with ease among their peers, and even elders were set up in camping chairs, discussing how many years they had been attending the event. You eased somewhat until you heard your name being called.

You turned, Minhyuk jogging over to your side with a grin plastered over his face. You mirrored his expression, blinking a couple of times as you took in his attire. Without thinking too much about it, you reached out for his bare arms and chastised him. “Where’s your jacket, aren’t you cold?”

“Oh, I left it backstage, we just had rehearsal before and I got a little hot,” he explained, his gaze on your hand. You slipped it back and he dug his hands deep into his jeans pockets, his skin now flushed. You assumed it was due to the cold and his sudden approach toward you and wrapped your hand around your other wrist, rocking back on the small heel of your boot. Minhyuk cleared his throat and grinned again. “I’m glad you came.”

“Me too.”

“I was expecting some kind of excuse about being too sick to get out of bed,” he continued and you snapped your gaze up to his, shaking your head profusely, hoping you didn’t let on that was exactly what you had been attempting to do.

“Of course not, you told me to have some Christmas spirit, so here I am. Though, are you just performing Christmas songs tonight?”

Minhyuk chuckled, shaking his head. “There will be some groups that do, and at the end of the show there’s a big Christmas medley happening, but most people are just singing their own songs.”

“Oh, so I’ll get to hear what CNBLUE is all about?”

“You will,” Minhyuk assured, his smile ever-present. And then he seemed to process a thought, launching forward to grab your hand and pulled you towards backstage. Focusing on remaining upright and not on how warm his hand was on yours despite the low temperature outside, you were shuffled past various people and tasks going on in the bustling atmosphere backstage until you came to a stop in a waiting area that was for Minhyuk’s group. Immediately you were greeted by a great voice, your movement stilling as you listened to the way the man sang.

“Yonghwa, Y/N’s here,” Minhyuk mentioned and the man you had just been in awe over stopped singing, turning to see you there. He grinned, coming over to shake your hand enthusiastically. And that was how your greetings with Minhyuk’s friends went. Yonghwa was loud and vivacious, much like his voice was. Jonghyun greeted you with a smile and Jungshin teased Minhyuk for bringing his boss to his work for the night. It was then that you met Becky, who not only reminded her boyfriend of where they once met before dating and then came over to your side and shyly reached out to befriend you. Her reaction eased you immediately and you relaxed into the new company, soon forgetting all about your worries of coming tonight.

“We’ll go out and get a spot by the stage,” Becky announced and you waved the men off, following Becky back out and finding a spot that had a great view of the stage without being too close.

Becky then smiled at you and you returned the gesture. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“It’s no problem. I remember the first gig I went to, though it was in a small bar. They’ve come a long way to do stages like this.”

“So they’re really good then?”

Becky blinked. “You haven’t heard their music yet? They have albums out.”

“Uh, no, this will be my first time.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat. They’re really talented,” Becky grinned. “Oh, and I’m not saying that even though I have the opportunity to be biased. All four members are amazing at what they do. Their music is the kind that gets right into your soul and makes you addicted.”

“Ah,” you said with a nod of your head, hopeful that you would be able to agree with her evaluation when the night was over.

Becky looked at you for a moment and then smiled again when you caught her eye. “You know, this is the first time Minhyuk’s invited anyone to see him play.”

“Really?”

“He talks about you too. You must be a really good friend to him.”

You contemplated her assumption, wrestling with disbelief. You eventually shook your head. “I’m just his boss.”

“I doubt that,” Becky refuted and then pointed to the stage. “Oh, here they come!”

Much like the attitude backstage, Yonghwa was vibrant and hooked the crowd immediately. And when Minhyuk held up his drumsticks before dropping them to start the beat, you were a goner.

Becky was right; you didn’t know who you were by the time the first song was over. Although you didn’t remember the names of the songs, you attempted to take in every detail, whilst your eyes frequently soaked in Minhyuk in his element. This was unlike in the florist. On stage, he seemed to shine brightly, his smiles as effortless as his skills were. You gasped when he started singing the backups as he continued to drum away and you glanced at Becky, her energetic nod telling you that she understood.

CNBLUE was definitely addictive.

When their set finished, you felt as if your body had become heavy. You were rooted to the spot, the ringing of the last part of the set replaying within your mind. It was Becky who nudged you out of your stupor, tugging you along with her to go find the members backstage. You needed more time, more air, maybe a drink of water to sober up, but before you knew it, you were in front of the four men, Becky leaving your side to hug Jungshin affectionately.

“So, what did you think?” Yonghwa asked and Jonghyun chuckled.

“Give her a chance to process it.”

“Why does she need time? Y/N either liked it or disliked it,” Yonghwa continued, turning back to face you. Smiling gently, you nodded a couple of times.

“I liked it.”

“Liked what, which part?” Yonghwa pulled you to sit down and eagerly waited for your response which was hard to formulate.

“Let her breathe,” Jungshin instructed and nudged Minhyuk pointedly.

You watched as the man you knew the most retreated. You had expected him to be like Yonghwa, after all these weeks of asking you to come see him play. It seemed surreal to see him hesitate, reserved with his approach. His usual smile was missing and you stared at him a little longer before turning back to Yonghwa and answering his questions as best as you could.

The night was still young, and yet you were wondering more about Minhyuk’s thoughts right up until the time you eventually crawled into bed.

You hoped he would share them with you when you next saw him.

Monday morning arrived and you were a mixture of emotions to see Minhyuk again. He had texted you the day before, thanking you for coming to the concert and spending your night with Becky and the members. It seemed odd that his reaction was so formal when you had been laughing and enjoying yourself within his friends’ company until you had gone home. And yesterday you had followed all their social media accounts, grinning when everyone followed you back. You had downloaded the content that you could purchase online, and spent the day cleaning your home and bopping along to CNBLUE. Even on your way to work, you were singing along to Between Us, having played the song so much you could almost sing it word for word.

But now that you were in your usual setting, your mood seemed to resolve, resuming back to the quiet and polite version of yourself. You greeted your supplier gently, carrying in boxes of fresh flowers one after the other until on your final run; they were taken out of your arms.

You blinked. “Minhyuk.”

“Good morning,” he greeted softly, carrying the carton into the back room and opening them up to see what needed to go in which floral cooler.

You stood at the edge of the bench, wondering what to say.

“What did you do yesterday?”

Minhyuk didn’t look up. “Mostly just relaxed.”

“I downloaded your music,” you blurted out and he paused in shifting a box of lilies into the cooler. You took it as a sign to continue. “I really like it.”

“I’m glad.”

“Are you?” you retorted, staring at him as he stood back to his full height. Neither of you spoke and yet you could tell he had a lot to say.

“Hello, is your store open yet?” a voice called out and broke the spell, Minhyuk stepping around you and going out to serve the customer.

It was like that for the rest of the morning, both edging around what happened on Saturday, yet neither coming out with anything productive to say. It was driving you mad and by the time Minhyuk had gone to take his lunch break, you were completely frustrated.

“Why invite me out if he’s going to be this awkward with me?” you scoffed, arranging a Christmas themed bouquet with a little more vigour than usual. “I should have made an excuse after all. Hanging out with his boss clearly was a bad choice on his behalf.”

You grumbled for a few more minutes, your frustration shifting towards despair. It was hard not to feel a sense of rejection. Although you had been invited out as a friend, you had hoped for some kind of reaction from Minhyuk to understand why he had asked you to come. Did he want to be more than just co-workers? Or was he just proud of his achievements and wanted to show you? None of it made sense and as you unravelled some ribbon, you thought of the worst.

“Did I embarrass him? Did I say something wrong to his friends?”

“You did nothing wrong.”

You squeaked at the sudden reappearance of Minhyuk, snipping the ribbon blindly and catching your finger in the process. Your hand was immediately within his and Minhyuk led you out the back, right over to the sink and ran the water over the wound.

“Keep it under the water whilst I prepare the band-aid.”

“It’s not that bad,” you mentioned but the look he gave you made you push your hand back under the flowing water. Minhyuk then reached for your hand and wrapped a towel around it to gently pat it dry.

As he dealt with the wound, you sighed. “Why did you invite me to the event if you were going to be like this with me?”

“I didn’t know I would struggle either.”

“You’re struggling?” you asked and the vulnerable emotion within his eyes was quickly removed much like the backing of the band-aid was. “With what?”

Focusing on his handiwork now that the band-aid was over your wound, Minhyuk continued to hold your hand. You went to pull away but he gripped on. “With how much I like you.”

“Me?” you echoed and Minhyuk nodded. “You like me? Me?”

A small smile played upon his lips. “Should I not?”

“No… well yes. I mean, why would you like me?” you babbled and Minhyuk laughed softly, capturing your attention. You stared up at him, your confusion softening. “You like me? Since when?”

“Since I first met you.”

“But wait, that was…”

“Seven months ago.”

You frowned. “I hired you six months ago.”

“I know but we met before then.” You didn’t respond and Minhyuk smiled. “I was a customer before I chose to try my luck and get a job here. I did need a new job. Working with Jungshin at the coffee shop wasn’t really working out for me when I would have to go to band practice after work too. And I genuinely do like working with flowers too.”

“You came here pointedly?” you breathed and Minhyuk nodded. “Because of me?”

He nodded again. “You mean, I’ve spent all this time trying to avoid how I felt when you’ve been here because of me?”

“To be fair, I wanted to get to know you first. Sure, I could have asked you out on a date as a customer,” Minhyuk mused and then grinned at your still startled expression. “But with how hard it’s been to actually get you to come out with me, I doubt you would have accepted my request from that position.”

“I’m still back at the part where you came here with the intention of getting to know me.”

Minhyuk finally let go of your hand and you blinked away from your reverie, a slight ache within your hand now that he wasn’t holding it.

Logically, that was probably due to the injury you had sustained.

“Seeing you out of the florist was overwhelming for me. And then how easily you fitted in with my friends, I could see this becoming something regular. I wasn’t prepared to cope with how much I felt on Saturday. That’s why I was quieter.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” he repeated and sighed. “Just oh?”

“You’re the one announcing you have feelings for me, how am I meant to react?”

Minhyuk was thoughtful for a moment and then leaned down into your face, smiling brightly. You blinked repeatedly, unsure if you should step back or grip onto him with how giddy you suddenly felt. “Will you come out with me again if I ask you, Y/N?”

“Where to? I thought that was the last performance you had scheduled for the year.”

He nodded.

“Then?”

“On a date, just you and me this time. They say that dating around Christmas time is much more magical than any other time of the year.”

You eyed him carefully, the smile on your lips forming slowly. “Really, why’s that?”

“Because it’s the season where dreams come true.”

“That’s really cheesy,” you told him with a giggle and Minhyuk pulled you into an embrace, your laughter startled into hiccups.

“I know, but you seem like the type to enjoy cliché romance like this.”

“Where the girl gets the really attractive guy that everyone fawns over?”

Minhyuk chuckled within the embrace. “Not everyone fawns over me.”

“Oh really? Have you seen how our clients react when you start smiling and pointing out flowers? I’m sure half of them would prefer to purchase you then the bouquets they walk out of here with!”

“Are you jealous?” he wondered with a smirk and you tried to slip out of the embrace Minhyuk held you within, your answer evident by your actions. “There’s only one person who I have eyes for, and it’s definitely not a client.”

“One date?” you surmised and Minhyuk gaped at you.

“I’m holding you in my arms; do you think we’re only going on one date?”

“Two dates?”

“If you’re trying to protect yourself from thinking I’ll suddenly change my mind, might I remind you I got this job because I liked you. I haven’t changed my mind since.”

“You’re blinded by the beauty of this place,” you complained and Minhyuk nodded softly.

“Because you’re here.”

You wondered if dating Minhyuk would be a blessing and a curse as well. But admittedly, you were hopeful that the Christmas spirit would help you out a little with that magic. Because you wanted this dream to remain a reality for a long time.

_________________

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Christmas In July: New Traditions // A Christmas Date // Cliche Christmas // With A Bow On Top

[abigailpoe]

Sucked In (Beckett x MC)

Part 1

Summary: After learning that Ivy has no one to go home to for Christmas, he invites her to his house for Christmas. However, with disapproval of his parents and an absent sister, Ivy is in for quite a treat...

Notes: I don’t own any of these characters. This was supposed to be part of the 25 days of Christmas, but due to events in my personal life, that was called off. I, however, wanted to continue with the Beckett series.

Rating: PG-13; light language

Tags: @boneandfur @flyawayboo @pixelburied @divergentofhogwarts @littlecrookedheart @syltti78 @regina-and-happiness @alegria1580 @llamasgrl @tmarie82 @indiacater @otomegamesaremydrug @symonde @laceandlula

I paced back and forth nervously in the bedroom on the train. With the mirror travel system locked down at the school, Beckett and I had to take another way to get to his home. He suggested a train that could travel between Pendergast and the normal world.

“If you keep pacing like that, you’re going to create a hole in the floor.” Beckett snarked.

I flopped down onto the bed next to him, admitting defeat. I knew deep down he was correct, not about the hole, but that the walking wasn’t going to change anything. “I’m sorry. I’m just really nervous about meeting your parents. I mean, we made out and all, but they’re going to ask questions about us.”

He looked up from his book and at me. “What do you mean?”

I sighed, laying down in the bed. “I mean that they’re going to want to know what we are.” He raised an eyebrow. “I know how I feel, but how do you feel?”

Color rose in his face. “I-um-“

I smiled as I leaned up, kissing him on the cheek. “I like you and all your dorkiness.”

“Really?” He asked, an excited smile plastered on his face. He pulled me into a deep kiss, catching me off guard. He pulled back with a smirk on his face. “Don’t worry. I feel the same. Now, just relax. I have your back no matter what.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “That doesn’t make me feel any better about this.”

He pulled me on top of him, laying underneath me. Beckett’s fingers danced across my jawline. “Trust me, please.” I rolled over and leaned into his arms. He planted a gentle kiss onto my forehead. “Let’s try to get some sleep.”

“I’m too eager to sleep,” I remarked. Beckett used air magic to turn the lights off.  Beckett wrapped me up in his arms and snuggled into my neck. Within a few minutes, we were both fast asleep.

The next morning, at the train platform, Beckett’s parents sent a driver to pick us up. Beckett closed the back seat to the limo. I spotted a bottle of champagne with a note attached to it addressed to Beckett. I snatched the cold bottle and opened the letter.

“What does it say?” Beckett asked. 

I began to read the letter. “Beckett, I really hope that you were joking about bringing that girl here. I understand that she’s a Sun-Att, but they’re more for business deals than for romantic interests. Life is a huge investment, and that’s all this girl should be.” My voice cracked as I began to read the next part. “You should really think more like your sister. If you didn’t spend so much time running around with some rift-raft, then maybe you would be more like your sister. If you bring her here, we will have to talk about your part in the will as well as the family business.”

I rubbed a tear from underneath my eye. Beckett took my hand, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. “Hey, don’t listen to that. You’re so much more than anything they think you are.”

I smiled slightly. “I just hope they like me.”

The car came to a stop after a bit. Beckett opened the door and offered me his arm. I stepped out of the house to a large, several story mansion. The exterior was decorated in brick as well as deep green window panel. Several live Christmas trees lined the way up to the door. The house as a whole was covered in countless Christmas decorations, but none of it was the cheesy inflatable type. 

An older woman came out of the house. “Beckett!” She cheerfully chirped. The woman gave me a sidelong glance, clearly angry. “Really, Beckett? You brought a stranger to our house. For all your father and I know, she’s a thief.”

I knew that Beckett’s parents would be cruel, but this was too the extreme already. I took a breath. “I can assure you, Mrs. Harrington, I’m not a thief. Your son invited me here when he learned I had no family or friends to go home to for the holidays.”

“I also can assure and promise that Ivy is not a thief,” Beckett added. 

Mrs. Harrington sighed. “What about the Christmas party we host every year?” She glanced me up and down. “Something tells me that she doesn’t have the proper clothing or skills for it.”

“Skills?” I asked.

Beckett took a step towards me. “She’ll be my guest. You won’t be able to bar her from attending.”

She placed a hand onto Beckett’s shoulder, giving him a few pats. “You know the dress rules.” She dropped her hand. “Come inside. It’s cold out here.”

Two people, who I assumed were staff, opened the large oak doors for us. I turned to grab my things when Beckett elbowed my side. “It’s okay. The staff will bring it up. My mother would have a fit if they didn’t.”

We followed Beckett’s mother into the large entrance. Inside, marble floors lined the halls with a chandelier handing down from the tall ceilings. Beckett and I went up the oak stairs to the second floor.

Mrs. Harrington opened the door to a bedroom. “Beckett, this is your room. Ivy, you’re going to be down in the basement with the staff. I wasn’t expecting you, and besides, you don’t quite fit with people like us.”

Beckett interjected into his mother’s rant. “She can sleep in here, and I’ll take the maid’s quarters.”

I reached for Beckett’s hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. “It’s okay. I can go down there.”

“I’ll leave you two alone. I have more arrangements to make for the party tonight.” She gave me a final once-over glance. “If I notice anything missing, I’m going to call the police.” She left Beckett and me alone in the hallway.

“I’m so sorry.” Beckett apologized.

I squeezed his hand lightly. “It’s not your fault. So um, guess I better go find my room.”

Beckett shook his head no. “You’re staying in here with me. I can take the couch.”

Beckett led me into the room. It was humongous. There was a sitting area on one side of the room with a fireplace while on the other side stood the king size bed. The red and gold colors add to the elegance of the room. Two walk-in closets sat along one side of the room with a bathroom attached to the room.

“This is bigger than my house was growing up.” I joked. I took a breath. “With whoever my parents were or are. I don’t know.”

Beckett gave me a side hug. “Whoever they are, they raised you. I believe in fate, and it was fate that they raised you and that I met you.”

I laughed a little. “I bet deep down you’re a hopeless romantic.”

He smirked. “Only with you.” He walked over to one of the closets and pulled out a tux.

“Fancy,” I said. “What’s the getup for?”

“My parents throw a massive party for Christmas. Black tie and nothing less stuff.” He began to explain. “I think my sister has a dress that you could borrow. She’s currently on a trip to Europe, volunteering.”

Beckett led me into the other closet. This one was filled with countless dresses, some high end. I knew these were more expensive than my Hartfield bill. I spotted a deep maroon one. 

“Can you leave me to get ready?” I asked. 

He nodded. “I’m going to go get dressed. There are a few women who can do your hair and makeup. Meanwhile, I’m going to go help my mom.”

I grabbed Beckett’s arm before he could leave the room. “Wait!” I looked up at him, investigating all the freckles that decorated his face. I stood on my toes and placed a kiss to his lips. I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck while he pulled me on the seat in the closet. I ended up underneath him and out of breath. He moved softly and sweetly with touches of fire thrown in. I ran my fingers through his hair as he pushed me farther into the bench. I pulled back with a smirk. “We should probably go and get dressed. I do want to make a good impression.”

He smiled. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

I pushed him up and off of me. “Shut up.” Beckett pulled me up from my place on the couch. I planted a kiss onto his neck. “Not that I wouldn’t mind you moaning my name a few times.”

He let out a soft grunt. “I should get going and leave you to it. I’ll alert the staff that you need help with hair and makeup.” Another sweet kiss was planted onto my forehead. “I’ll see you in a bit. Oh, just so you know, my mother and father like to make a grand entrance. Following them, it’s a tradition for my sister and I. Since she’s not here, my mother wants us to walk in together.”

I punched him in the shoulder playfully. “I think I can handle walking down a staircase.”

He drifted off towards the door. “I’ll see you later.”

I turned on my heels and plucked the maroon dress off of the rack. I twirled with it in front of me in the mirror a few times. “It’s a lovely dress.” I jumped and turned to spot a few women in the doorway. The older woman began speaking to me once again. “I think Beckett would love if you wore it.”

I began heavily blushing. “You think so?” I asked with her nodding in response. “I mean, we’re not together, but I do love getting him all flustered. It makes me all warm and fuzzy.”

The older woman raised an eyebrow and pointed to a nearby seat. “Sweetheart, I’m Mrs. Rosemary, and what you’re feeling is love.”

“Love?” I asked the women surrounding me.

She nodded. “The way he talked about you to us, trust me, he feels it too.”

“We’re not dating, though,” I responded, plopping onto the seat. A younger woman began brushing out my hair while another heated a curling iron.

The younger woman sighed. “Believe me, too, I haven’t seen Beckett smile when he’s talked about anyone in a long time.”

About two hours later and a lot of hair pulling later, I was ready for the Christmas party. I looked at myself in the mirror, twirling a little. It flowed down to the floor, my feet not showing. The top was a halter with lace near my neck. Intricate flowers were woven onto the chest. I wobbled a little in the tall heels, but I knew Beckett wouldn’t let me fall. I turned my head to look at my hair. The women braided pieces back into a bun after curling my hair. My makeup was natural, 

I turned to the women. “Thank you so much for all of this. It means a lot to me.”

All of the women left the bedroom except for Mrs. Rosemary. “Show them you belong.”

I nodded. “I will. I will prove anyone can belong here.” She and I left the bedroom, and she disappeared down one of the hallways. 

I began searching for Beckett in one of the many hallways. I turned a corner when I bumped into a much older man. “I’m so sorry.” I rapidly apologized to him, brushing my dress off.

“Who are you again?” he questioned. “I’m Mr. Harrington, and I don’t believe that I’ve met you.”

I stuck out my hand to shake his. “I’m Ivy. I’m a friend of Beckett.” 

Mr. Harrington began to shake my hand a bit too long. “When Beckett was telling us about you, he didn’t mention how beautiful you are.”

I pulled my hand back. “Oh... well he didn’t need to.” I stuttered.

He smiled. “No need to be so modest.”

I took a small step back. “I’m not-”

“Dad,” Beckett said from behind me. He came over and wrapped a protective arm around my waist. “I never described her because I knew how you would react.”

His father took a step back. “Whatever.” He scoffed. “I’m going to go do the walk in with your mother, and you two better be ready in three minutes.”

The moment Beckett’s father was out of sight, he turned to me. “I’m so sorry for my father. I knew that was going to happen the moment he got wind of you being on their estate.”

I glanced at his suit. “It’s not your fault.” I couldn’t help but stare at him and wonder what was wrong with me. “I see yoga is going well for you.”

He began to stutter and become flustered. “What... I haven’t... Now is not the time, Ivy. Besides, I doubt anyone is going to be looking at me when the two of us are side by side.” Beckett cleared his throat to compose himself. “We have to make our entrance now.”

I took him under his arm. “Thanks for the compliment, but let’s do this.” Beckett and I made our way towards the stairs. All eye fell on us when we took our places. Everyone was silent, minus a few whispers about who I was. 

“Introducing Beckett Harrington and Ivy Russel.” A waiter announced from the top of the stairs. The crowd clapped as we made our way down the stairs. I was slightly off-balance, but each time I felt unstable, Beckett held onto me a little bit tighter.

“Now would be a bad time to tell you that since my sister is gone, you have to sing a song to the whole party. It’s tradition, I swear.” He explained. 

I shook my head no. “I sing for myself and maybe you, not a bunch of random people.”

“Please?” He begged. 

I sighed. “Fine.”

He led me to what I assumed was the dance floor. “My parents insisted that we share the first dance.” My eyes went wide. “It’s okay, I got you. Just follow my lead.”

Beckett began leading me across the dance floor to a slow waltz. I wasn’t sure of the steps, but I knew that I was following Beckett fairly well. 

When the song concluded, Mrs. Harrington went up onto the stage, looking directly at me. “Since my daughter isn’t here, Ivy will be taking her place in singing a traditional Christmas song.” I went up onto the stage and took the microphone from her. She leaned in and whispered to me. “Do not screw this up for me. On top of that, you’ll never fit in when I know you haven’t had proper singing lessons.”

I raised an eyebrow, not breaking eye contact with her. “I can’t wait to see you eat your own words,” I whispered. She rolled her eyes and went onto the floor to watch me with the other guests. I gathered the band into a small circle. “How does everyone feel about me singing ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’?”

I took the microphone and put it into the stand. I took a deep breath, eyes searching for Beckett in the crowd. Once I located him, he gave me a reassuring smile and a thumbs up. I nodded to the band to start.

I don't want a lot for Christmas

There is just one thing I need And I don't care about the presents Underneath the Christmas tree

A few people in the crowd began singing along and bobbing their head to the beat.  I glanced over at Mr. and Mrs. Harrington, who we very clearly enraged with my choices of song, but frankly, I didn’t care what they thought about me.

I don't need to hang my stocking Thereupon  the fireplace Santa Claus won't make me happy With a toy on Christmas Day

I just want you for my own More than you could ever know Make my wish come true All I want for Christmas Is you

The song wrapped up as I gazed into the crowd of people that I had never met. I couldn’t believe that I had just done that. The crowd burst into applause and whilst. “Thank you!” I smiled, taking a small bow. I handed the microphone and back to the singer. I walked down the stairs to find the Harringtons waiting for me. 

“How dare you!” Mr. Harrington snaked. “You know the song was supposed to be a traditional one.”

I shrugged. “Everyone has a different definition of traditional. Besides, everyone appeared to have liked the song.”

“You’ll never belong here.” His mother said.

I sighed. “Sure, I might not have money, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t care for your son any less.”

“Do you love my son?” Mrs. Harrington asked. 

I nodded. “Maybe I do. Maybe he feels the same. However, that doesn’t give you the right to walk all over us.”

Mr. Harrington reached out to touch my arm, but I jerked away. “Leave now, or I take away everything that Beckett has and ever will have.”

“Seriously?” Beckett asked from behind me, causing me to jump. “She stays.”

I turned, standing on my toes to whisper to Beckett. “It’s okay. I can leave. I don’t want anyone to take away your things. You need the money for Pendergast. I don’t want to be the reason you can’t attend.”

Beckett shook his head no, whispering. “Please... stay...”

I turned back to his parents. “I need some time to decide what to do. I ask that you give me until morning.”

Mr. Harrington nodded. “I’m okay with that.”

I shared my goodbyes and went to my room, alone. I sat at the desk and began to write a note to Beckett.

Beckett,

Thank you for trying to help me. it means a lot to me. I wish I could have stayed longer, but I care about you too much to be your fall. I couldn’t live with myself if something were to happen to your future because of my hand.

With Love,

Ivy

I called Mrs. Rosemary up, and the staff snuck me out through a door in the back of the house that the staff used. I turned in the backseat of the car I was riding in to face the house. I felt a pit of regret in my stomach, but I knew that I couldn't risk Beckett’s future for my feelings. 

[nish-s-random-writing]

Growing Up (2/?)

Chapter 2! USUK!

(a/n): Thank you for all the notes ahhh! <3 Hope you enjoy this chapter! I was already writing it before I got chapter one up, so it’ll be fairly better edited than the following chapters~

ff.net link || Chapter 1

Whereas Alfred’s mark had delicate vines with blooming blue roses, Arthur’s arm was covered with the markings of an iron gauntlet, almost. Elegant metal-like workings, forming an intricate web of a blue gate, or perhaps a shield. Something akin to that, connected to a Spadian mark spread right over his knuckles—right where Alfred’s thumb first touched him when Arthur took his hand.

The Royal Guards had come to the orphanage all dressed in their gold and blue glory. Alfred had gawked then, much like the other children, and gawked when he saw the fancy-looking blue carriage they were to ride in. His mouth had been hanging open from when he was told he was a monarch, to having said goodbye to his friends, to sitting in cushions so soft he never thought possible in a carriage pulled by elegant white horses, to seeing the huge metal gates surrounding the palace he was soon to live in. And that was just the outside!

The gates parted in their slow, massive movement, and the exquisite courtyard of Spades was revealed to them. Grassy areas and stray bushes were sprinkled around marble and cobblestone walkways, spreading over the enormous grounds. The symbol of the spade was everywhere—on the carriage, the hedges, the gates, the guards’ uniforms, and on the coats given for Alfred and Arthur to wear.

And Arthur, right across from Alfred in his seat, was gawking in equal fashion although with more confusion and less awe.

“Arthur! Isn’t this so cool?” Alfred asked, beaming with excitement.

“Cool?” Arthur was incredulous. “Alfred, this is—”

Unfortunately, he never got to finish his sentence when the carriage jolted to a halt, tipping Alfred forward in his seat. The door do the side was pulled open to reveal a young man standing at the bottom of the stairs which led to the front door.

He was lean and tall, with dark eyes and long dark hair tied at his shoulder, a few stray strands curling around the side of his face. He regarded the two with a look of genuine surprise, before he coughed into his hand and fixed his expression into something more welcoming.

Alfred grinned at him. “Hi!”

“Hello,” said the man with a pleasant smile. “My name is Wang Yao, but you may call me Yao, as most people call me too. I am the Jack of Spades.”

“Woah!” Alfred breathed, jumping out of the carriage. “That’s so cool! You’re the Jack? That’s so awesome!”

“Wait, wait,” There was Arthur, taking a careful step out behind Alfred. “I-if you’re the jack, doesn’t that mean you serve under us? I mean, uh, as t-the king and queen.”

Yao nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

Alfred couldn’t understand why the older boy looked so worried. Maybe he was simply too overjoyed?

“Wait, no!” Arthur cried. “That can’t be, we’re just kids! We can’t be expected to run a bloody kingdom!”

Yao only smiled kindly, a look Alfred found similar to what Miss Amelia did whenever a child cried over something.

“Calm down, Arthur,” he said, kneeling down to their height and offering his hand. “You two won’t be expected to run the kingdom yet. You’ll be raised here, in the palace, and you will be under my protection. I would never let anything harm you two, and when you need me I’ll be there with a single call. Is that okay?”

Arthur didn’t answer at first. He stared at Yao with disbelief, hands curled together under his heavy blue cloak. “I-I don’t know,” he croaked.

“That’s alright. You will be okay.”

“Thanks, Yao!” Alfred piped. “I trust you already!”

Yao raised an eyebrow, but offered a chuckle toward the younger boy who now jumped in his place.

“Alright, alright,” the jack said in his calming voice. “Well, let’s see. Alfred, would you please give me your arm? Yes, the only with the mark of Spades. Ah, look here,” Yao pointed to the Spade which lay in the center of Alfred’s upturned hand, Arthur watching curiously from the side.

“There’s a hole there,” The older boy commented. Yao nodded in agreement.

“And see how the hole is in the shape of a Spade?” Indeed, it made the mark look like a slightly thicker cookie-cutter.

“Now, Arthur give me your arm. See, on your knuckles, your spade is filled completely. That means you’re the Queen, Arthur.”

Ooo000oooO

The palace was wonderful! Alfred was led down winding halls filled with pretty-looking furniture, gold and blue pieces of art, and, the best part, walls upon walls lined with ancient-looking armor shining and gleaming with weapons Alfred wanted so badly to touch, but Yao had told him not to and Arthur was looking at him weird.

They walked through the throne room—it was insanely huge! Two identical golden thrones stood in the middle of a raised marble podium, equal in height and structure. Alfred couldn’t believe he would be sitting with Arthur on those soon!

But as they walked passed he could help but sense the melancholic emptiness surrounding the thrones, curtains drawn over windows and drapes set over some paintings. It was like the room didn’t feel as lively as it should have been, and suddenly, neither was Yao.

They were tugged along by the Jack, further into the palace, and his mood immediately lightened as they left the room. Alfred gawked at tapestries and paintings, at weapons and armor, yanking at Yao’s clothing and asking about all the battle-scenes he saw.

And the man indulged him. He gave a name and a year to each tapestry without pausing, said who fought who when Alfred asked, and was rewardingly greeted with high-pitched exclamations of “woah! And “so cool!”

But when Alfred looked over his shoulder, he found Arthur trudging along with his cloak wrapped tightly around his shoulders. His eyes darted around the palace, lacking any sign of excitement or joy. He had interest, yes, but he seemed almost… afraid.

It was unusual and almost scary in itself, it wasn’t like confident, snarky Arthur at all! But Alfred decided he was still just nervous. It would pass, surely! He could get Arthur to play around the palace and have picnics out on the huge grounds—it would be great!

But for the moment Alfred quieted down and walked at the boy’s pace. Maybe he just needed some comfort.

Arthur fixed him with a scowl, taking a few paces back, but when Alfred was about to question him Yao snapped his fingers to their attention.

“Look here, you two. This is the palace library, where we house over sixteen-thousand books from all throughout the known world!” Yao stood them right in front of a set of massive open double-doors, where inside were shelves that spanned from floor to ceiling filled to the brim with books and ladders running along their lengths. Elegant glass tables filled the massive room, complete with plush seats and a royal blue rug encompassing the entire floor.

“Books?” Alfred mumbled, not entirely sure if he should be amazed by this, but next to him Arthur was staring with eyes wide as saucers.

“Wow,” he whispered.

“Come along now. You can visit these places after you clean up.”

Ooo000oooO

After Alfred had been spun around in a dizzyingly huge bathroom and dressed in a fresh white cotton shirt and black trousers, he was led into a bedroom comprising of two beds, facing each other at opposite ends of the room, along with shelves and dressers filled with all sorts of entertaining-looking things.

And then Arthur was there, dressed in quite the same outfit. But he was fuming, sitting on his bed with crossed arms and a glare to the floor.

“Now, you two just relax for the rest of the day,” said Yao. “Talk, sleep, whatever you please. If you need me, simply holler down the hall. If you want food, you can call for a maid and ask them to fetch you something. Please, make yourselves at home and don’t think too much, alright, Arthur?”

The older boy jumped, meeting Yao’s pointed look. He was confused, but nodded nonetheless.

“Alright, then!” Yao clapped. “I’ll take you around the grounds tomorrow, give you simple pointers, and arrange for your lessons and schedules in a few days.”

“Lessons?” Alfred questioned, wrinkling his nose.

“Yes, lessons. As the king and queen in training, you two have to be sensible and ready enough to lead the kingdom! I’ll see you for dinner.”

With that, the door was closed and Alfred was left alone in a massive room with one evidently upset Arthur.

“Hey, um, Arthur—”

“I can’t believe this,” The green eyed boy growled, glaring at the floor.

“You’re… upset that we’re king and queen?”

“No. I’m angry and in utter disbelief that you,” He fixed his glare on Alfred. “Are the bloody king.”

Alfred stared at him. He took a step back. Something about Arthur’s words, especially after he thought he’d made some sort of progress with him, sent a knife through the boy’s heart. “W-why?”

He didn’t understand. This was supposed to be great, wasn’t it? They were two lost boys who just needed a family, and now they were handed excessive wealth and power and a chance to change things for the better! They now had something of a family in Yao and each other, the power to help others like them and more. The power to make a significant change, and Arthur was mad about it?

“You don’t get it, Alfred. We’re handed this- this enormous responsibility! We’re supposed to grow up and dig this kingdom out of the ditch it’s in and you—you’re the king! Stupid, carefree, irresponsible, dumb Alfred who can only possibly be a nuisance—the boy who’s supposed to lead!” Arthur grit his teeth and stood, making the younger take another step back.

“This was a mistake. I’m not spending my time around you.”

So Alfred was left alone in the room, more than a little hurt.

Ooo000oooO

He found Arthur inside the library climbing one of the ladders to reach a particular spine he’d spotted up above.  

Yao was there too. He stood leaning against the doorframe with arms folded, watching Arthur with thoughtful eyes. Alfred made to stand by his side.

“I heard that, you know.”

“Huh?”

“Has Arthur always… disliked you?”

Alfred pursed his lips, unsure of what to say. “I…” He sighed. “He hated me from the start. He moved into the orphanage just a few days ago and, since then he was really mean.”

Yao hummed. Looking up at him, Alfred decided he liked Yao. He seemed confident, nice, full of helpful advice. He seemed like a wise old master ready to whip out a sword and fight with analytical grace at any given moment.

“Are you a samurai?”

Yao jumped, bristling suddenly. “O-oh, uh, no. You must be thinking of, uh, others. Other people. ”

“You look like one of those people from samurai places.”

“Exactly.” Yao gave him a tight smile. “Well, my place of origin is close to where the samurai are from, a-and people do mix us up. But they’re ancient, ah, haven’t been around for years. They started over at the Kingdom of Hearts, you know, in the east.”

“But you’re like a samurai,” said Alfred thoughtfully, thinking back on Miss Amelia’s history books and the drawings they held. “I think that’s pretty cool.”

Yao blinked. “Well, thank you, Alfred.” And then he furrowed his brows, going back into thought, before resurfacing and facing Alfred with a renewed smile of confidence.

“Do you dislike Arthur too?”

“No!” Alfred gasped. “I really want to be friends with him, but,” He deflated. “I guess he hates me.”

“Well, he has a reason, you know. People don’t act out against others without any reason. It could be something about his past, before he ended up at the orphanage—who knows. But the reason has stuck by him, so you’ll have to convince him otherwise.”

“Oh. How do I do that?”

“Well, take it slow. Make a good impression, but don’t push it too hard. Most of all, though, be yourself. Stay true.” Yao looked at him gently, but Alfred still frowned.

“He hates myself.”

“Ah, but he hasn’t seen your entire self yet. It will be alright, you’ll see.”

Oh Alfred hoped so, if he was to spend the rest of his life with the ‘stick in the mud’.

[glorifiedgpjfic]

Glorified G- Chapter 27

A/N I’m so sorry for the delay, again. Please send in asks- I hope you enjoy this chapter.

The following day was a blur to Joanne, she’d been sent to the various police stations around Seattle to brief them of the active cases the FBI were handling and telling them what to look out for. There had been a very sudden surge of cases piling up on the FBI’s desk and despite them being very good at what they do there was no way all of the cases could be handled at the same time, so some cases were passed on to other branches of the bureau. Of course, while she was explaining to the guys at the north precinct about a potential stalker on the loose all she could think about was that she could have a stalker, well not just her but the five people she was closest to. Her boyfriend and his four bandmates who she considered to be brothers to her were all in danger.

She’d been sent on a trip around the city to find any homeless people and warn them about getting into cars and accepting money or drugs from strangers, she had taken almost twenty to various shelters- there was a killer targeting the homeless and brutally attacking them, so the aim was to get as many people off the streets and to the safety of a shelter in the hopes of preventing the murders.

After a day of what felt like running errands Jo was ready to collapse into her bed, she took a hot shower to relax before throwing on one of Eddie’s flannel shirts she’d just curled up in bed when the phone rang, she jumped up and rushed to the phone she answered it with the usual,

“Taylor.” There was a long pause before a moment of heavy breathing and then the line went dead, a shiver ran up and down Jo’s spine with a shrug she put the phone down- after the phone call sleep seemed like an impossibility, so she made herself some coffee if she was going to be awake all night she might as well be alert. As the she poured the water into her mug a knock on the door caused her to almost drop the kettle, as she opened the door she kept the kettle in her left hand as a weapon just in case, the door opened to reveal Eddie who looked tired- she was wondering why he was there, it was nearly eight. He let himself in and took a seat at the table,

“You ok, Ed?” He nodded and put his head in his hands,

“I got a creepy call earlier, just someone breathing then they laughed and hung up.” Jo told him about her similar call, “It’s really fucked up.” He concluded and she agreed, sitting beside him she leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder,

“I couldn’t sleep,” She complained to him and he let out a quiet laugh,

“You know some people would say that drinking coffee wouldn’t help you sleep.” He joked and Jo let out a quiet chuckle,

“Those people are stupid.”

Eddie and Jo ended up trying to get some sleep around eleven, they curled up in bed together clutching on to the covers and each other, just as they were nodding off into a blissful sleep a harsh knock on the door startled them, Jo attempted to ignore it but the knocking continued she grabbed her gun from her bedside table- people don’t come over at eleven- her gut was telling her to be on high alert, so she nudged Eddie who was trying to ignore the commotion,

“I’m gonna check it out- I’ll be back.” She whispered and he got out of bed and followed her, the knocking continued. Jo held her gun to her side out of sight, Eddie eyed the gun cautiously,

“Don’t worry I’m not gonna use it.” She whispered to him and he nodded, quickly she flung the door open on the floor was a bouquet of sunflowers, with a small card she quickly picked up the card and read it, ‘some one is watching’ The note was all she needed to sprint after the person who had now disappeared, she didn’t bother to put on any shoes, she skipped the bottom two steps up to her apartment scanning the area she spotted a figure to her left, they were running. She ran after them silently cursing for not putting on any shoes the feeling of the cold, hard floor was quite painful when running. She made it around a corner to see the figure dash down an alley, she knew it was risky and dumb, but she followed running as fast as she could- her lungs were on fire, but she couldn’t slow down and risk losing the person, she bolted down the alleyway convinced that she was closing the gap between her and the person- at the other end of the alley she saw the person getting into a vehicle, pushing herself to move faster she tried to catch up to get a glimpse of the vehicle, or it’s registration plates but it was too dark and she was too late.

Jo felt a sudden pain shoot through her foot and she looked down to see that she had stood on a pile of broken glass,

“Great, fucking great.” She muttered to herself, she hobbled to the nearest streetlight and looked at the wound, with a quiet whimper she pulled the piece of glass out of her foot and hobbled on the back of her heel to the apartment, she was thankful that there wasn’t anyone about as she realised she’d just sprinted a few blocks in just a flannel shirt with a gun in her hand. When she got back to the apartment she searched through the cupboards for a first aid kit, she grabbed the big red box and grabbed some alcohol wipes she gently rubbed it on the cut and held back a wince. Eddie heard Jo mumbling to herself and rushed to her side when he saw her patting a large cut on the sole of her foot he gasped,

“What happened Jo?” She told him and he was quick to drop to his knees beside her and begin dressing the cut, “that looks deep Jo, maybe you should go to the hospital to get it checked out.” He suggested and she shook her head,

“Nah I’m good, I’ll keep an eye on it.” She replied, her gaze wandered to the bouquet on the table, and the card with the writing on- on the back of the card there was a phone number and an address, Beautiful Blossoms florists. Jo smiled, a step in the right direction she’d check them out first thing in the morning.

The following morning Joanne called work and said she would be a little bit late, as she had an errand to run. She drove to the flower shop that the bouquet came from, as she entered the strong smell of various flowers and types of greenery seemed to hit her in the face, the till was to the left and to the right there was a huge display of sunflowers, orange gerberas, maroon dahlias, orange roses with hypericum berries and eucalyptus, it was a beautiful display and it sat proudly in the window- around the room were several large buckets full of many different types of flowers, there was a large area full of greenery,

“Hello?” Joanne called out, there was no sign of anyone,

“Through here honey!”  A voice called, she looked and spotted a small doorway through to another room, she made her way to where the voice came from, in the room a short woman in her early fifties stood beside a table where she was putting a bouquet together, “Hi, what can I do for you?” the woman asked as Joanne entered she looked around at the room and gawked at all of the stunning arrangements,

“Hi, my name is Joanne- I got a bouquet last night around eleven-” She began talking and was trying to figure out why she was there, “there were about half a dozen sunflowers,” She took out the card that was with them, the woman looked almost angry,

“I’m sorry, hun, did you see who delivered them? I think one of my employees stole the flowers, you know just grab a couple from the delivery no one will notice- well I noticed because I was doing inventory and I came about a dozen sunflowers short.”  Jo nodded, as the woman seemed to vent,

“I’ve got a note that was with the flowers, I don’t want to sound rude or anything but it was a kinda creepy note.” Jo said handing the card to the woman,

“That is strange hun, I recognise the writing though- I think it’s my nephew’s. I’ll be having a word with him when he gets back.” She said trying to smooth things out, Jo nodded,

“Where is he now?” She inquired,

“He’s out on a delivery, he should be back soon.” Jo offered the woman a smile,

“Do you mind if I stay to talk him? You see I’m a federal agent and the writing on this note matches a threatening letter sent to my family.” The woman’s face changed completely,

“Oh my! Well, my boy wouldn’t do anything like that! In fact, let me see that note-” She looked at the writing again, “Oh no that isn’t my Jonny’s writing! I’m sorry I must be mistaken.” The bell above the door rang indicating someone entering the shop, the woman scurried to greet the person, and Jo followed her. A scrawny boy in his late teens stood by the door wearing a black t-shirt with the florist’s logo, he looked to his auntie and then to Joanne and his face seemed to flash with recognition,

“Jonny, did you steal from me?” She asked and he shook his head. Joanne watched as the aunt interrogated her nephew, he mentioned something about his mother and the aunt who’s name Jo didn’t manage to get stormed off into the other room where Jo had found her initially. Jo took it upon herself to try and get some answers, she’d told Jonny she had an order to place and that she wanted a receipt to go with it, she’d ordered a Sunflower and gerbera bouquet, and a ‘someone special’ card- hoping that he would write the words incorrectly as in the threatening letter. As he handed her the handwritten receipt she read over the order and stared at the handwriting for a few moments, the words were spelt correctly and the lettering did not match that of the letter- Jo let out a quiet sigh before discreetly changing the subject,

“I feel like I’ve seen you around, you ever been to the off ramp?” She asked Jonny broke into a goofy grin,

“Yeah I’m always there- there’s some great bands on! If I’m not at the off ramp I’m somewhere else looking for new music.” Jo nodded,

“I must’ve seen you there, you heard of Pearl Jam? I mean those guys are something else! The passion! You can just tell they love what they do,” Jonny’s face briefly clouded with anger,

“Eh, they’re not my bag- The singer seems kinda douchey. The bassist and guitarist, Stone and Jeff were in a really fuckin great band, Mother Love Bone- d’you ever get to see them?” As he spoke Jo tried to not get defensive- Eddie is anything but douchey, you little douche- she shook her head and tried to keep her calm,

“No I moved here from the UK a few months ago, I’ll have to get a hold of a tape or somethin.” Jonny nodded,

“I’ve got a spare cassette, you can borrow it and bring it back when you pick up your order.” Joanne nodded, for a second she almost forgot that this could be the guy threatening her and the guys,

“That’d be great thanks, when do I need to pick em up?” She asked, Jonny had told her anytime tomorrow, “That’s great thank you, shit look at the time- I gotta get to work!” Jonny nodded and quickly pulled a cassette out of his backpack, “Thank you, I’ll bring it back tomorrow!” She said rushing out of the door with a slight limp.

Jo gathered her thoughts for a few seconds in the car, not a fucking match, she felt so deflated. She put the cassette in and drove to work, as the first song started she found herself tapping along to the beat,

“Said I’ve been around the world wrote a million songs,

It’s all a bore to me…”

She really loved what she was hearing, Andy’s voice was so full of personality she almost felt the loss that Stone and Jeff must’ve felt, she never even met the guy.

Upon arriving at work Joanne quickly rescanned the handwriting on the receipt, she put it in the small case file she had designated for the ‘case’. A light bulb practically sprung from her head, fingerprints- he had handled the receipt so fingerprints were almost guaranteed, she was left-handed so her prints would be on the left side, Jonny handed it to her with his right hand- so the right side should have some of his prints. She out the paper in an evidence bag and ran to the forensic crime lab, on the way she bumped into Jane,

“Agent Taylor, you missed your appointment yesterday- come see me when you’ve got a minute.” Jo sighed,

“Sorry Jane, I will.”

She managed to find Meg’s office and burst through the door, Meg looked up from some paperwork she was filling in- she had some thin-rimmed glasses halfway down her nose,

“Oh hey, I was just coming to find you - I’ve got some perfect fingerprints and a palm print on the back of the letter, there were three different fingerprint patterns, one will belong to Eddie and one to Mike, but the third belongs to your guy. I ran them through the system, nothing. But at least we have something to compare suspect prints to, think positive and all that jazz.” Joanne smiled and held up the evidence bag,

“The right side of this letter should have some prints for you!” Meg grinned and stood up, she rushed to grab the bag after grabbing a large brown envelope from the table,

“Follow me.” She said leading Joanne down a long cold corridor, the air stank of disinfectant and it seemed cleaner than the air upstairs. Jo concluded that due to the floor being the forensic hotspot of the building it would have to be clean to prevent contamination. Meg led Jo into a large office, the forensic scientist switched off the light and made her way over to a table where a large magnifying glass was situated, a UV light was switched on and Meg opened the brown envelope. The prints on the note began to glow white on the blue background, Meg pulled Jo’s receipt and placed it beside the letter- she pulled an overhead magnifying glass down to compare the fingerprints. Jo watched in awe as Meg began pointing to various points on the prints with what looked like a small black pen, only it didn’t have a nib and was like a pointer- Jo was rarely involved in the forensics side of the job, she generally reviewed forensic files- but being in the lab watching Meg work was mind-boggling, Jo had no idea what she was doing but watched intently,

“What are you doing M?” Jo asked, her voice barely above a whisper,

“Grab a seat and I’ll show you,” Meg responded, Jo, grabbed a small stool and pulled it alongside Meg, “Okay, so every fingerprint is different, nobody has the same prints. Which is why they are so great- also toeprints and footprints are unique to each person but that isn’t relevant- just really freakin cool.” Jo smiled at Meg’s enthusiasm, “so there are a unique set of grooves, what I’m doing is marking four different points on this original print- because if they are the same the receipt’s prints will have grooves in the same place, it’s kind of hard to explain because I’m so used to doing it alone.” She let out an awkward laugh,

“Don’t worry about explaining, just do what you do best my dear.” Jo laughed.

After around half an hour of Meg scanning from one sample to another, Jo was itching to go back to her floor and get to work, she was just about to suggest that she leave Meg to it when Meg spoke up,

“So, from a preliminary analysis, I’d say we’ve got a match!” Jo let out a breath of relief,

“Are you sure?” She asked and Meg nodded in confirmation,

“I’d say so, but of course I’ll enlarge the two images and run a more in-depth analysis of the samples.” Jo thanked Meg and gave her a high five, Jo took the receipt back to her floor after Meg made a copy, giving Jo the copy so she could keep the original with it’s prints. She rushed upstairs to Eleanor and told her about the fingerprints, she showed Eleanor the receipt and Eleanor quickly pointed out the differences in handwriting- Jo nodded in agreement,

“But, look-” Eleanor said grabbing a scrap of paper and a pen, she wrote ‘sunflowers’ twice her handwriting totally different each time, “It’s easy to change your handwriting, I think we should bring him in.” Jo nodded in agreement,

“I’ll call his aunt.” She called the florist,

“Beautiful Blossoms, Maude speaking.” Jo paused for a few moments,

“Hi Maude, it’s Joanne from this morning- I was just wondering where Jonny is, I’d like to ask him a few more questions if that’s alright.” There was a loud sigh on the other side of the line,

“Okay he’s upstairs in his room- let me go call him. One moment.” There were a few minutes of silence before Joanne heard frantic yelling,

“Jonny! Jonny!” A few moments later Maude returned to the phone,

“He’s gone! His room- it’s empty, completely empty all of his things- gone. Oh, God.”

[wormwood-mothman]

Flowers For You (Nedden Week Day 2)

A day late and a lot longer than I planned it to be, but I hope this is still enjoyable!

Lars hummed softly while placing the key in the lock and turning, getting ready for the day. He ran a florist shop in a shopping center in downtown, though most people thought other wise at first glance. He was always wearing black or some other dark colored clothes, and on warm days when he wore tank tops his countless tattoos were visible, and had a few piercings in his ears and one on his lip. Most people thought he looked 'too tough' to be in the florist business, but he didn't care. He always loved gardening, and being able to arrange what he grew beautifully for others was just an added perk in his opinion.

He immediately started work on an arrangement he wanted to get ready for the new shop across from him. He was surprised when the sign went up on the soft-colored building, announcing it as a tattoo shop. Most usually appeared very edgy, but who was he to judge? He finished it off with a handwritten note welcoming the shop owner to the center. He looked up when he heard the bell on the front door ring.

"What can I help you with?" He asked, putting finishing touches on the arrangement before setting it aside.

"Hey! I just opened up shop across the way, so I figured I'd introduce myself," the stranger said. Lars was taken aback completely. He was not expecting that. This guy was the new tattoo shop owner? He was wearing a flower crown! And dressed in very soft colors to match his shop! And was that glitter on his face on top of some faint freckles? He knew that the new tattoo shop would be unorthodox, but this? This was unheard of. But, he couldn't deny--the guy had looks. His eyes were a beautiful blue and bright with enthusiasm, and his whole demeanor seemed to radiate happiness and comfort. He was slightly shorter than Lars, and looked to be well-toned.

"Oh, you must be the owner of that new tattoo shop. I'm Lars," he held out his hand for the other to shake, walking out from behind the counter.

"Mathias," the stranger-- Mathias-- said while shaking his hand. "I, um, hate to be rude, but you aren't exactly what I'd expect a florist to look like." Lars shrugged while grabbing the arrangement of peach roses with baby's breath and light pink anemones.

"I'm not surprised, I get that a lot. I was about to drop these off for you as a welcome gift, but since you're here I can give them to you in person." If it was even possible, Mathias seemed to grow even more excited upon seeing the bouquet.

"Oh, thank you! These are so lovely! And they match the place well, don't 'cha think?" He held the flowers up to his face with a huge grin. "I wish I brought something for you," he chuckled. Lars waved his hand dismissively.

"Don't worry about it, it's a welcome present." Mathias smiled at Lars, running a hand through his messy blond locks, careful not to knock his flower crown askew.

"Well, I still feel bad. Come by anytime you want, and I'll design a tattoo for you. I have a few ideas for one that would look good right... there," he poked at a small spot across Lar's elbow that was still bare. "I'd love to add to your collection!" Lars smiled softly.

"That sounds really good. Is there a specific time that's good for you?" Mathias shrugged.

"I'm good with pretty much any day. Just come in after seven so it's not during hours." Lars nodded.

"Okay. I'll be by, then." Mathias smiled waving with one hand while the other held the flowers close to him.

"Okay, I'll be expecting you!" He shouted while walking out and across to his shop. Once he was sure Mathias was out of earshot, Lars hid his face against the counter and groaned while smiling. Damn Mathias, and his adorably happy personality! It was infectious! But he was just so cute! He took a deep breath and pulled himself together and started working on different orders he had to have ready.

Later that morning, Antonio-- the owner of a café a few shops down, came in with a cup of Lars' favorite coffee, a flat white. Lars looked over thankfully while drinking as much as he could without burning his mouth. Antonio chuckled while leaning against the counter.

"Rough morning?" Lars shrugged.

"I guess. Have you seen the new shop?" Lars pointed across to Mathias' tattoo shop. Antonio lit up.

"Oh! That must be where the new guy is! I haven't been in, but Lovi brought him a call-in order this morning. He said he was too happy." Lars chuckled. He had known the two who owned the coffee shop for a few years. Lovi, or Lovino, was polar opposite to the happy man Antonio was. They seemed different in so many ways, but still worked together very well, both in business and as boyfriends.

"He is very happy. You should've seen the way he smiled when I handed him his welcome gift. It was like I had just handed him his most favorite thing in the world!" Antonio chuckled.

"Well, look at his store! It looks very soft. Flowers would look great over there!" Lars smiled.

"You think so? He really seemed to like them..." Antonio smiled while poking Lars.

"Ooh, I think you have a crush!" Lars swatted his hand away.

"I just met the guy, I can't have a crush on him already. Only time will tell with that. But he is cute. He has that kind of energy that you just can't help but smile along with." He smiled, thinking back to his encounter with Mathias. He looked over to see Antonio grinning.

"Mm-hm. Does he, now?" Lars rolled his eyes while taking another sip from his coffee.

"Don't you have a café to run? Or someone else to bother?" Antonio held his hands up in surrender while walking back to the door.

"Alright, alright. I know when I'm not wanted. But I also know what it looks like when someone's in love!" He left quickly before Lars could retort. He didn't have a crush! Sure, he thought Mathias was cute, but it wasn't like that. He just thought he was adorably energetic, and just had an air of being cute. He couldn't explain it but he just seemed so cute, and way too precious for the world.

A few days had passed since Lars had met Mathias without much contact between the two of them, but that changed when Lars decided to visit his shop after closing his up for the night. He brought another bouquet with him, this one of light red carnations and yellow roses. Lars was always careful choosing the right flowers for an occasion, and took care making the colors something that might appeal to Mathias. He walked across into his shop around seven. He set the flowers down and watched while he heard the buzz of a needle working. Mathias was completely fixated on the tattoo he was inking, his tongue poking out of his lips while his brows furrowed with intense focus. He utilized his flower crown now as a headband to keep his mess of hair out of his way. Lars smiled softly while sitting in the front area.

"I'll be with you in just a moment!" Mathias shouted once the needle stopped. Lars waited patiently for him to finish cleaning up and as the customer paid before leaving. Once finished, Mathias came running over, practically throwing his plastic gloves off anywhere.

"You came!" Lars chuckled, handing the bouquet.

"And I come bearing gifts." Mathias gasped softly while taking the flowers.

"Wow, these are really pretty! Thank you, Lars! I'll put them with the others!" He walked back to the counter and carefully placed the new bouquet next to the old one in the same vase.

"So, you said you had a few ideas?" Lars asked, sitting across from Mathias at a small desk with varying drawing supplies spread out across it.

"Oh, yeah! It all depends on what you're looking for. A lot of your tattoos are grayscale, so I've been sticking to that. It works out good, too. They fade slower, so it's less touch-up work." Lars nodded.

"Yeah, that part I really like." He looked over as Mathias flipped through some different designs he came up with for Lars. Most of them were very similar to his other tattoos, badass almost tribal looking designs that were mostly black with some areas of gray.

"So what do you think? You got a favorite?" Lars grabbed the sketchbook carefully and flipped to the back page it was resting on when Mathias started showing him his art, a stylized sketch of the bouquet he received the other day from Lars colored brightly.

"I really like this one. Do you think it'll fit?" He asked, looking at the empty spot from the crook of his elbow to the side of his bicep. Mathias chuckled.

"In size, yes. But in design? It's very different, are you sure?" Lars nodded.

"Yeah. You said you wanted to add to the collection, so I want a tattoo that reflects your style." Mathias smiled.

"Oh. Well, thanks. I take that as a compliment," he said while flipping to a blank page. "Well, at least let me make it something personalized to you, okay?" He pulled his knees to his chest and rested the sketchbook on his thighs, leaning over to peer closely at Lars.

"Personalized, how?" Lars said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Mathias grinned before backing away.

"I'll make your tattoo special. Even if it's something in my style, it should be something you can identify with. Something that means something to you." Lars nodded.

"So, how do you go about that?" Mathias shrugged.

"Getting to know you. Figure out your likes, your dislikes, your personality... that kind of stuff, y'know?" He said without looking up from his sketchbook.

"So, what are you doing, now?" Lars peeked over. Mathias showed him the page, a detailed but cartoony sketch of Lars at the center and some different doodles along the side.

"Brainstorming. So, tell me some stuff about you."

"Like what?" Lars chuckled.

"Anything, really. Hmm," he hummed, pressing his pencil to his mouth. "Favorite color?"

"Black, probably." Mathias laughed softly.

"Black is a shade. Pick a color!"

"Why are you so particular? I don't know, blue probably."

"Nice! It's very calming, isn't it? Okay! Coffee, tea, or cocoa?"

"Coffee. What's with all the questions?"

"I'm getting to know you! What kind of coffee?" Lars shrugged.

"Flat white, usually." Mathias smiled, but with a slight grimace.

"Ooh, I can't really stand coffee like that. It's perfect just on it's own. But I usually go with hot cocoa more often. Anyways... favorite season?" Lars was still stuck on what Mathias said before. The hot cocoa didn't surprise him, but Mathias drinking coffee black definitely did. He didn't really seem like the type to like strong coffee.

"Probably spring." Mathias grinned.

"Should've seen that one coming, with all the flowers blooming at that time of year."

"Okay, well what about you? You're asking me all these questions, but I hardly know anything about you." Mathias looked over his sketchbook curiously before setting it aside.

"Do you want me to answer? Okay! My favorite color's red-- the color of passion, though I do like a nice light green too. I like black coffee, but prefer hot cocoa best, with sprinkles! And my favorite season's fall. I like getting to wear really big sweaters, and seeing all the colors from the leaves changing." He grinned at Lars. Lars smiled back softly.

"Sprinkles, huh?"

"Yeah! Especially rainbow sprinkles! It makes it look really cute. Can I go on asking you stuff?" Lars nodded.

"Okay. But you have to answer them too."

"No problem! Cats, or dogs?"

"Cats, probably. But I actually like bunnies better." He smiled while Mathias lit up.

"Aw, I love bunnies! They're so cute! Hmm, out of cats and dogs, I like dogs best. They have such a playful spirit! Favorite artist?"

"I like a lot of Van Gogh's work, he was really talented."

"Yeah he was! I like Van Gogh too!" Mathias continued to scribble in his sketchbook before continuing.

"What's your favorite kind of flower?" Lars laughed while groaning.

"You're making me choose? Ugh, hmm... tulips?" He said almost as a question.

"Are you sure?" Mathias asked while laughing.

"I guess. What about you?" Lars grinned. Mathias seemed to light up when he looked over at Lars.

"I like any, really. But if I have to choose, uhm, I like roses. Call me traditional," he shrugged. "Favorite app or social media?"

"Instagram, probably. I like being able to take and see pictures. It's good advertisement too, sometimes." Mathias nodded.

"I like Instagram, but I'm torn between that and Tumblr." He set the sketchbook aside after and continued smiling at Lars, not breaking his stare. Lars looked over his shoulder before back at Mathias, trying to figure out what he was looking at.

"Why are you staring?" Mathias shrugged.

"Jus' studying ya. Gotta know the canvas, y'know?" He leaned over closer, resting his hands on his knees. Lars backed away slightly, trying too hard not to stare at Mathias. After a few moments though, he gave up and looked over at Mathias. He didn't have any glitter on his cheeks today, but his faint freckles were still prominent against his pale but warm-toned skin. His eyes seemed like a deeper blue than before, but still bright with happiness and scrunched slightly with a smile. Mathias' smile grew.

"You know you're staring, right?"

"Well, so are you," Lars said, trying not to sound too defensive.

"But I'm doing it for a reason. Do you have a reason, too?" Mathias grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. Lars scoffed.

"Trying not to feel uncomfortable? Does that work for you?" He smiled slightly, trying to show he wasn't mad though he might've sounded it. Mathias held his hands and moved away from Lars.

"Okay, okay. Point taken. I think I got all I need to know for now to design your tattoo. For now. Would you be alright coming by again, so I can show you some more designs?" Lars nodded.

"Yeah, I don't mind." Mathias' always present smile grew.

"Cool! I'm closing up for the night, so I don't mean to kick you out, but I gotta get home sometime." Lars smiled.

"No, it's alright. Do you want me to help with anything?" Mathias shook his head while grabbing his things from the back.

"Nah, everything's all good for the night." He lead the way out, flicking the lights off before closing the door behind the two of them and locking up. "I appreciate the thought though. And the company, thanks for coming by! When are you coming in again?"

"How does Monday work? That gives you some time to work on different designs, and then if you want to take the weekend off." Mathias nodded.

"Yeah, that's perfect! I'll see you then!" Mathias said before leaving with a wave in Lars' direction. Lars waved back, smiling the whole time he walked towards his car. Mathias might have some odd behaviors, but he was definitely fun to be around, Lars decided.

The next morning, Lovino greeted Lars with his usual cup of coffee while Lars was busy at work. Lovino placed the cup on the counter after announcing his arrival, looking at it almost scrutinizing it.

"'Morning," Lars said, his eyes going wide in surprise as he took a sip. Lovino smiled softly with a laugh.

"I figured that was something you wouldn't order. When Antonio said you wanted a hot cocoa, I was surprised!" Lars swallowed the hot liquid with a surprise.

"I'm surprised, too. Did he say anything about why?" Lovino shrugged, putting his hand out to stop Lars pulling money out.

"It's been paid for already. I think it has something to do with the note that Antonio said the guy requested when he called it in." Lars looked at the writing on the side and laughed softly.

"Mathias did this, didn't he?" Lovino raised his eyebrow.

"Are you two dating or something?"

"What? No," Lars said defensively. "I'm sure friends can buy each other coffee with nice notes on it." Lovino scoffed.

"Sure they can. They can also stay at each other's stores for no reason until late." He smiled knowingly. "That's how it always starts..." Lars rolled his eyes.

"You two are being so nosy. How come?"

"We got a bet," Lovino replied.

"A bet?" Lars asked unimpressed.

"Yeah. That's all I can say though. 'Tonio and I decided if we were to tell either of you what it was about, it wouldn't work as well." Lars huffed.

"Well, that's great. As long as you two don't start meddling too much, I don't care. Does Mathias know?" Lovino grinned.

"Why do you wanna know?"

"Because I'm curious."

"Well, I'm not sure. Antonio might've told him, but I didn't." Lars nodded, taking another sip now expecting it to be hot cocoa.

"I got one question for you though-- why? He's so happy, and he just seems so different from you." Lovino asked. Lars shrugged.

"Why'd you choose Antonio?"

"Because he wouldn't leave me the hell alone," Lovino grumbled before smiling. "But in all honesty, it's because he was persistent, and just so friendly. He makes me feel special." Lars nodded.

"Well, that's the same with Mathias. You've talked to him before, so you know how friendly he is." Lovino nodded.

"Yeah. He's got way too much energy, though. He's like a kid on too much sugar. Except the kid is six-foot-something and dressed like a soft aesthetic blog." Lars shrugged.

"I think it's cute that he's so energetic. He's like if a puppy became a person. A really happy and energetic puppy-man."

"Of course you'd think that, you have a crush on him!" Lovino said. "Anyways, I should head back. Let us know when you two finally get together!" Lovino called out while leaving. Lars flipped him off casually while taking a sip from his drink.

Lars was busy cleaning up for the weekend, making sure all the flowers had water and that they would be over the weekend when the phone went off.

"Hello, Lars' floral. How can I help?" He answered the phone. There was some muttered whispers before it sounded like the phone was passed along to someone.

"Hello, I'd like to order a bouquet," the voice on the other line said. Lars grabbed a pen and notepad from by the register.

"Alright, no problem. What arrangement would you like?" More whispering came before a reply.

"Can you do a dozen English roses? It's not really for any kind of occasion, so anything goes." Lars started writing.

"Any specific color? And what's the delivery address?" Even more whispering, this time Lars could make out the words 'No, don't you dare!'

"Not really. It's for someone special, so how would you make it? If it was for someone you cared about?" The voice followed with the address, which Lars scribbled. When thinking about the question, Lars looked over at the colorful shop across from him.

"For someone I like? I'd go with something colorful, but not too bright. Pinks and reds are a good choice for color, since they can show different feelings like love and passion. Anything soft, really. You don't wanna go too overboard, y'know?"

"That sounds perfect! When's the soonest you can bring it by?"

"I'm about to close for the weekend, so probably Monday at the soonest. If it's for someone really special though, I'm sure we can work something out." There was a rustling sound as the phone was passed again.

"That, uh, that won't be necessary! Monday works well!" The new voice said cheerfully.

"Okay, so Monday. I'll make sure it's one of the first to go out, so around ten in the morning?"

"That sounds perfect!" Lars confirmed the information and ran the caller's card before hanging up. He sighed before starting to work on the arrangement-- deciding on a mixture of burgundy and purple. Sure, it was late, but it sounded really important to whoever those two were. And the third person in the background, they sounded like they were too nervous to call. He smiled softly. It's not like he knew them, so why was that third person so worked up over a phone call? Love sure is weird, he thought. Maybe he was in love. It was really soon to be in love with Mathias already, but there's different kinds of love. Not to mention that Mathias was just so likable. Maybe a little annoying with how happy he always seemed to be, but it was endearing. He made the bouquet as he would if it was for Mathias, like the caller asked, and put it with his other deliveries before closing up for the weekend and going home late.

Lars stopped by Antonio and Lovino's café first thing Monday morning before starting deliveries. He was honestly a little excited to see the reaction from the call he got Friday night, so he went as quickly ad he could to get to deliver that one. He made it to the address, a small apartment not far from his shop. He knocked on the door and waited until it was opened.

"I've got a delivery for--" he cut himself off in surprise when he saw a very disheveled Mathias.

"Lars? Hey!" Lars was frozen because oh dear, he was hot. Mathias had on a pair of fluffy blue pajama pants and no shirt on, leaving his muscular chest exposed.

"Hey," he finally replied with a smile. "I got these for you. If I had known this address was yours, I might've waited instead of waking you up." Mathias waved his hand dismissively before grabbing the flowers.

"Nah, it's fine. They're beautiful, thanks! Who ordered them?" Lars shrugged.

"There was two people that called." Mathias immediately looked annoyed, but still smiling somehow.

"Did one of them sound like he'd be really scary, and the other really happy?" Lars shrugged.

"I wouldn't say scary about the first one, but the other guy was definitely happy." Mathias chuckled.

"Of course they did..." he muttered. "I know who called it in. I'll get them for this, don't worry!" Lars chuckled.

"Get them for what?" Mathias shrugged, but the look in his eyes and blush on his cheeks showed he knew.

"I dunno. Hey, help me come up with a plan to get back at them later tonight!" Lars nodded.

"Sounds good to me." Mathias grinned while Lars turned to leave, pulling him on a tight hug before waving and shutting the door. Lars stood in front of his door for a few moments, trying to get his heart to calm down. It was beating so fast, and he really didn't want to chase after it. As he walked back to his car, he knew right then he was done in for-- he definitely liked him. Mathias was so adorable and happy, but he was also hot! There was no way he could get over this any time soon. And if what he saw was right, he wouldn't have to. He might have a chance.

Lars showed up to Mathias' shop later after seven, so he had time to clean up before. Mathias smiled when he saw Lars before playfully pouting when he saw he was empty-handed.

"What, no flowers?" Lars laughed softly.

"I gave you some this morning! Besides, if I keep giving you flowers, they'll take over your whole shop." Mathias smiled.

"But that would be cool! I like flowers!" Lars laughed.

"It really means that much?"

"Yeah!" Mathias replied eagerly, running across the shop and running back with his sketchbook. "I got a whole bunch of new things to show you," he said while flipping through to what he was looking for. Lars leaned over and looked at the drawings Mathias showed him. Some were very rough, but as Mathias explained them, Lars could see where he was going with the ideas.

"What do you think? Which is your favorite?" Lars smiled.

"I like them all. You're a very talented artist, but, uh... what about you? Which is your favorite?" Mathias looked surprised.

"Mine? Uhm... I think this one," he flipped a few pages to show a drawing covering the full page of the roses Lars gave him that morning in an almost abstract style. The outlines were dark, and the coloring was very similar to Van Gogh's paintings, with different areas looking like they were splattered with paint over the edges of the flowers. The drawing took Lars' breath away.

"I... wow," Lars chuckled. "That's the one. That's what I want to have you tattoo on me. It's beautiful." Mathias smiled while blushing.

"You think so?" Lars nodded, smiling back.

"Oh yeah. It's really good. When do you wanna start inking it on me?" Mathias shrugged.

"Why not now? I can trace it onto some transfer paper real quick, and then start the outline and some other line work now." Lars smiled.

"I got a better idea. It's getting kind of late, so how about you just start with the transfer, and then we can go out to get something to eat. You haven't had dinner yet, have you?" Mathias shook his head.

"Not yet. I was about to, though! Right after I got started with your tattoo..." Lars scoffed.

"That would take a while. Come on, let's get something to eat. My treat." Lars stood up and started heading towards the door.

"But, the tattoo..." Mathias started, looking towards Mathias confused. "Isn't that what you want?" Lars shrugged.

"I mean, yeah, it looks cool. It'll come out great. But, you've been in here all day, and I've been driving around all day doing deliveries. I wanna make sure we're both taking care of ourselves. C'mon," Lars walked backed towards Mathias and placed his hand on his shoulder. Mathias smiled dreamily at Lars, placing his hand on top of Lars' while standing.

"Alright, alright. Only because you asked so nicely." Lars smiled back and lead the way out. On the way over to Lars' car (they decided to take his since it was closer, though not by much), he saw Antonio and Lovino sitting at one of their tables talking. They both waved to them, but was Lars was the only one to notice the thumbs-up and excited smile Antonio gave him and the less-excited smile Lovino had while they waved back. He rolled his eyes while moving closer to Mathias as they reached his car.

They ate together at a small restaurant down the road Mathias swore by. At first glance, Lars could understand why he was so enamored with the place. Most of the decoration was a variety of plants and flowers, and a lot of the light was string lights that somehow seemed dim, but with enough kept the place well lit.

"This place seems a lot like you," Lars commented before taking a sip from his water. Mathias looked up curiously while playing with the swizzle stick in his lemonade.

"What do you mean?"

"The whole, eh, aesthetic of the place. It's soft, and comfortable. You give off a similar vibe." Mathias smiled.

"Aw, you think I'm soft?"

"Well, yeah," Lars replied with a soft smile. "You dress in soft colors, you just look really soft and adorable... it's hard to explain, but you just are." He chuckled. Mathias' smile grew.

"I'm so glad. Sometimes, people really don't think I'm nice or anything, that I just dress it. 'Guess it's cause I look kinda tough without the flowers and stuff." He shrugged.

"I don't see anything wrong with you looking tough, or soft, or however you wanna look. It doesn't take away from how nice you are."

"You know what, Lars? You're a nice guy, too. I like being around you," Mathias grinned, "You're not judgemental, or anything. You're way friendlier than you let off, too." Lars tilted his head before Mathias continued after taking a sip from his drink.

"It's all the black. And the piercings. You look kinda like you'd be in a mosh pit instead of a garden. But, I like it. It defies stereotypes." Lars smiled.

"We both kinda crush stereotypes, don't we?" Mathias smiled back.

"Yeah we do! And it's awesome! We're a couple of oddballs, making our way in a world full of generalizations!" Mathias said eagerly, his eyes bright enough from excitement and happiness to light all around them for at least a block away. Lars couldn't help but smile along. Their orders were brought out shortly after. Once they were finished, Lars paid for the meal and walked back with Mathias to his car. Mathias walked closely beside Lars, latching on to Lars' hand after his brushed it a few times. Lars squeezed Mathias' hand in his to say it was alright without breaking the comfortable silence between the two of them. Lars looked over at Mathias, who was smiling up at him. Lars stopped walking, still staring at Mathias. Under the streetlights, his confused eyes seem to radiate more than usual, and the warmth of his rosy cheeks brought his freckles out even more.

"Can I kiss you?" Lars asked without thinking. Mathias blushed even more, laughing nervously.

"I...uh-- sure? You don't... You don't have to ask, y'know. I like you enough to be okay with kissing you, I'm holding your hand, after all." He held up his hand joined with Lars' to demonstrate his point. Lars smiled.

"Yeah, but I still think it's polite to ask." He leaned over and kissed Mathias' cheek softly before continuing towards his car. Mathias laughed softly, his free hand brushing against his cheek.

"You could've kissed me on the lips..." he sounded slightly disappointed, Lars noticed. When they reached his car, Lars moved closer and kissed Mathias' lips, pulling him closer gently by his hands, one on Mathias' neck and the other around his waist. Mathias hummed softly and wrapped his arms around Lars, moving closer. Lars pulled away and smiled softly. Mathias smiled back as he got into Lars' car, his smile so large the corners of his eyes were squished together into a squint.

"Go out with me?" Mathias asked. Lars pecked his lips and smiled.

"Yeah."

A few weeks passed after their first date, but both of them kept their relationship fairly quiet. That was, until Antonio came into Lars' shop that morning with his coffee.

"Hey, Lars?" Antonio asked, handing him his coffee.

"Hmm?" He asked while taking a sip. Antonio looked at his elbow and smiled.

"Is that new?" Lars hummed in response and nodded.

"Yeah. 't's cool, isn't it?" He smiled fondly at the colorful tattoo.

"It is! You must like it a whole lot, to be wearing something with short sleeves in the fall." Lars shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

"Money for the coffee is over there," he pointed towards the other side of the counter, close to the door. Mathias walked in as Antonio went to collect the money. He greeted Antonio before walking behind the counter and pecking Lars' cheek.

"'Morning, dear. Ooh, what's that?" He asked while carefully picking up the arrangement.

"One of the deliveries. I got the one you wanted for your friends all loaded up." He smiled.

"Thanks. I really want them to know how much appreciate that small thing they did, having you deliver to my apartment." He kept one arm wrapped around Lars. Antonio was smiling as if he was about to explode from happiness.

"Ooh, I knew you two would get together! You should've seen him after he first met you, oh my god!" Mathias laughed while looking over at Lars, who was glaring a hole through Antonio.

"What was he like?" Mathias asked excitedly. Lars sighed.

"I might've... buried my face against the counter and screamed a little? You're just so adorable, I can't help it." He said while blushing slightly. Antonio laughed.

"I wasn't going to say that, but that's even better! That proves what I told you, you are in love!" Mathias' smile grew.

"Aw, that is adorable! You're such an adorable guy, Lars!" He poked Lars' cheek. Lars swatted his hand away playfully.

"I'm gonna have to go make deliveries soon, you two realize, right?" Lars asked while his face flushed. Antonio smiled while heading for the door.

"Alright, alright. I'll let you two say goodbyes. And collect my money from Lovi!" He said before leaving with a wave. Mathias giggled.

"I can't believe they bet on us." Lars shrugged, giving Mathias a hug.

"Me either." He kissed Mathias once, twice, lingering a third time. Mathias pulled away and gently grabbed Lars' arm.

"Is it healing alright?" He surveyed the sight of his new tattoo. Lars laughed softly while pulling his arm away.

"It's fine. You should get back to your shop." Mathias nodded, kissing Lars one last time before walking back across the way. He blew him a kiss before entering his shop. Lars caught it and smiled before locking the front door and going around the back to his car and loading up deliveries for the day.

A/N: each bouquet listed had a specific meaning, so here's what the meant based off what I found on google! -peach roses: appreciation, enthusiasm; anemones(couldn't find a meaning specific to color): good look -light red carnations: admiration; yellow roses: friendship -burgundy roses: unrealized love; purple roses: enchantment, love at first sight

[embracetheapocalypsewithme]

Embracing the Apocalypse, Part 8: Poor Life Choices

Happy Wednesday...Surprise! A chapter!

Summary: Rebecca finally lets Negan know that she wants to spend time with him. But is she making a terrible choice? Is he really who he seems to be?

Word count: 2,343

Warnings: Smut, Negan, Negan being Negan, Comic Negan being Comic Negan, light angst, feelings, and bribery.

Part 1: The Tale of Thelma Facefuck

Part 2: What’s Up, Doc?

Part 3: A Successful Job Interview Begins with a Firm Handshake and Ends with a Salty Surprise

Part 4: A Crack in Everything

Part 5: Sorting Duty Sucks

Part 6: A Faint Whiff of Bullshit in the Air

Part 7: Turn and Face the Strange

Part 8: Poor Life Choices

Part 9: 8.5 out of 10

Part 10: No Plan

Part 11: Negan Settles Rebecca’s Hash

Part 12: I know Where That Hand Has Been, Negan

Part 13: Gimme Danger

Part 14: The Loneliest Hours of the Morning

Part 15: Well, Fuck You Too, Kitty!

Part 16: That Escalated Quickly

Part 17: Well Fuck Me Gently with a Chainsaw

Part 18: Shards of Glass

Part 19: Donkey Heaven

Part 20: Morphine Dream

Part 21: Promises to Keep

Part 22: Are You a Killer?

Part 23: That the Hill You Want to Die On?

Part 24: Keeping Up Appearances

Part 25: Bird on a Wire

You can also read my work on Archive of Our Own: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8807527/chapters/21048044

Part 8: Poor Life Choices

People were just starting to file into the cafeteria as Rebecca approached the counter to collect her breakfast. Today’s delicacies were baked beans from a can, two slices of toast, and three pieces of jerky. The toast was the best part of the meal; it was homemade by one of the few kitchen staff who had any culinary talent. The whole area smelled of freshly baked bread, and it made Rebecca feel a pang of nostalgia for a former life in which she would visit artisan bakeries on the weekends to buy herself confections and fancy lattes.

(how did i manage to survive so long in a world as brutal as this? i was such a little cinnamon bun!)

Shuffling to a nearby table that held a large pot of hot water, Styrofoam cups, instant coffee, and powdered milk, she began to prepare a cup of coffee. This was a long way from her skinny double latte with a shot of sugar-free caramel, but it had enough caffeine in it to keep her going through the morning.

Once the coffee was made, Rebecca sat down by herself in the room’s furthest corner and began to eat. Eating alone never bothered her; she needed to get coffee and food into her belly before she could be social anyway. 

By the time she had finished her meal, the room was buzzing with the sounds of conversation. Smiling serenely, she let the din of voices swirl over her like a warm wave. That sound meant security. 

There was safety in numbers. She had to remember this fact when she got annoyed with people. Life here was just easier than life outside, even if you had to tolerate the occasional asshole.

She stood up and started to clear her dishes from the table to make room for some of the latecomers who needed a place. An older woman hovered nearby, glancing at her seat.

“It’s free, if you need a spot to sit,” Rebecca offered.

The woman nodded at her and moved toward the spot, “Thank you, darlin’.”

“Have a good morning!” Rebecca replied cheerfully.

On her way out of the cafeteria, she decided to grab a second cup of coffee. She took her place in line behind two women who appeared to be in their early to mid-twenties. They were dressed in dirt-stained jeans, t-shirts, and long-sleeved men’s flannel shirts. Their hair was tied back from their faces and they each had a pair of gardening gloves tucked into their back pockets.

Rebecca smiled and tried to catch one of their eyes to introduce herself. Perhaps she could weasel her way out of the sorting rooms and into the garden crew if she could ingratiate herself with some of them. Maybe they would put in a good word for her. Before she could attempt some post-apocalyptic networking, a huge hand fell onto Rebecca’s shoulder.

“Hey, Fuckface!” the booming voice came from behind her. It was way too loud and right in her ear. Rebecca jumped while the girls in front of her jerked their heads around to see who had made the noise. Their eyes widened, and they hastily made their drinks before leaving the room, throwing one more nervous glance over their shoulders as they did. 

Rebecca whirled around angrily to glare at the person who had scared off her opportunity, already knowing exactly who she would find. Of course it was him again. It always seemed to be him.

Negan towered over her with a broad smile on his face, evidently impressed at his ability to startle half-awake people early in the morning. He seemed as though he had been awake for hours with his hair slicked back in its characteristic style and his face freshly shaved. He smelled of cedar and spices. God, he was beautiful to look at! For a moment, Rebecca forgot to be annoyed with him, but that didn’t last long.

“You jerk!” she swatted at his arm playfully, “I was gonna suck up to those girls. Get myself out of sorting duty! You scared them off.”

“I didn’t scare anyone away! They were just so turned on that they couldn’t stand to be in my presence for much longer. On account of the spontaneous fucking orgasms I gave them. From my sexiness.”

She was just about to come up with what was sure to be a savage retort when a man further back in the line yelled, “What the fuck is the hold up! Move the fucking line please!”

“Sorry!” she yelled over her shoulder before quickly making her second cup of the morning. As she walked toward the exit she motioned for Negan to join her in the hallway with a tilt of her head, and he followed.

“So, about last night,” she began, taking a sip of her coffee and grimacing at the bitter, yet sour flavour. These were most definitely not gourmet beans.

 “Yeah, I’m a pretty fucking great guy, aren’t I? You’re welcome.”

“Yeah, it was alright, I suppose…”

“Alright? You fucking serious right now?”

“No, I’m almost never serious,” she said with a cheeky smirk, “It was actually really fucking nice and…I kind of want to do it again.”

Rebecca was surprised at her own forwardness. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or maybe it was her inability to give a fuck about the small things anymore. Fear of rejection seemed so silly in the face of life’s much bigger tragedies. Who really cared if he rejected her? She had nothing left to lose.

“Is that fucking so?” he asked, his eyes narrowing at her.

“It is. Maybe when I’m less exhausted. You know, just to talk or something. It gets kind of boring at night sometimes.”

“I see. Netflix and chill, as the kids used to say?” he asked, leaning in closer. His leather jacket creaked softly as his weight shifted forward. Rebecca felt her pulse quicken as the scent invaded her nose. “I think I can arrange something tonight, if you’re so inclined.”

“Ok! I was thinking maybe after dinner. You could give me a tour around the place. I still haven’t seen the whole building. Maybe you could find some fun spots I haven’t seen yet.”

“Hot damn, let’s do it!” he said exuberantly. She couldn’t help but grin at his seemingly boundless enthusiasm. It was goddam contagious.

“Deal! I should get to work now though. Got another thrilling day of putting piles of things into smaller piles of things.”

“Gosh, that does sound fucking fun as shit! Meet me here after dinner? Let’s say 7?

 “Works for me –“

“Rebecca!” the voice that came from a few feet away belonged to her Sorting Duty Accomplice, Ryan. It was friendly, but with a tense undertone to it that confused her, “What the hell are you doing blabbing in the hall. We have to get our asses to work!”

“Be right there!” she yelled, then turning to Negan, “See you later!”

Rebecca made her way over to where Ryan stood waiting for her. As she approached him, she noticed that the expression on his face had changed from cheerful to stony and tense. He sighed before softly saying, “We need to talk, darling...”

*****

The grin dropped from Negan’s face as he watched Rebecca all but skip over to a young man with wavy brown hair. He was everything that Negan wasn’t: young and clean-cut with a gentleness to him. Venom rose in his throat as he watched the young man put an arm around Rebecca’s shoulders and lead her away. As they walked, he overheard snippets of the conversation:

“We need to talk, darling...” said the young man.

“Sure! About what?” replied Rebecca.

“About poor life choices and how you can avoid making any more of them.”

(fuck!)

“Uhhh…ok…” she began, but by then they had moved far enough away that the rest of their conversation was muffled. He didn’t need to hear it; he knew what they were talking about.

Of course, Rebecca was being warned about him. He knew it would happen eventually. The young man confirmed this as he threw a quick glance over his shoulder at Negan and then quickly flipped him off using the hand that had been resting on Rebecca’s right shoulder. She glanced around, sensing the movement, but was too slow to catch his gesture.

(well, so much for that)

He should have known better than to think that he could trick someone like her into believing that he was a good guy. Of course he wasn’t. He was the kind of guy who bashed in skulls and leeched off of others. He was scum, no matter how good his intensions might have been.

(who fucking cares? she’s just another bitch. there are lots of women here, so just move on. find someone else to stick your dick in)

But he knew that wasn’t exactly the truth. Yes, there were other women here, but practically all of them were terrified of him or hated his guts. The only ones who didn’t fall into one of those two categories were his few remaining ex-wives, and they mostly saw him as a joke.

Since he had been put back into power, Rebecca had been the first person who hadn’t looked at him like he was a rabid dog or a punchline. She treated him like an equal; nothing more and nothing less. Plus, she actually laughed at his stupid jokes and trucker mouth. He didn’t think anyone had sincerely laughed with him since before the world had gone to shit.

(too late now…she’s gone too..)

Negan turned abruptly, his hands balled into fists, fingernails digging into his palms and his jaw clenched. He strode back toward his room quickly. In the “good old days” he would have ironed the smug expression right out of the younger man’s face, but those days were over. Yes, he was the leader, but the dynamic in this place had changed. People were afraid, but not in the way that had previously kept them in line. They were on edge now, looking for any reason to find fault with Negan and potentially knock him out of his role as leader.

Bile rose in his throat. He was enraged at the situation, and at his inability to inflict revenge. Plus, who did he really have to blame but himself anyway? He was living in the culture of fear that he had created. He had been wrong about leading with fear, so why shouldn’t he suffer for it now?

His eyes fell on a woman walking in the distance with natural red hair that fell just below her shoulders. Her frame was tall and lean, and although her back was to him, he recognized the woman almost immediately.

“Julie! Hey baby, what’s fucking shaking?” he yelled.

The woman’s head whipped around at the sound of his voice, “Oh. Negan. Hi,” her eyes looked nearly glazed over with disinterest, “Nothing much. Just heading off to another thrilling day of commissary work.”

Julie had been one of his wives during his first stint as leader, and for good reason: she was absolutely stunning. She was the kind of woman he never would have had a chance with if he hadn’t tilted the odds in his favour by offering her a life of leisure and relative luxury.

For all that she was beautiful, Julie was lazy as shit and hated to get her hands dirty. She had nearly jumped at the offer to be his wife and never work again. It seemed, though, that in his absence she was back to pulling her own weight. She did not appear to be the least bit enthused with this situation.

An idea sprang into Negan’s head as he recalled his time with Julie. He couldn’t make her his wife again, but maybe he still had just enough power to get into her pants. He wasn’t an evil man, but he could be a manipulative asshole when he was angry. And today, he was fucking pissed.

“Well, what if I told you that you could have the whole fucking day off?” he asked, a dark expression passing through his eyes like a solar eclipse as he stepped closer to the woman.

“Go on…” her eyes lit up at the idea.

“I was just thinking that, if you wanted to get together tonight for a bit of…reminiscing about the good old days with me, maybe I could switch your shift with someone and you could go back to bed for a while. I remember how much you love sleeping in.” 

The woman considered the proposition for a very brief moment, and then promptly threw her arms around his shoulders, placing a kiss on his cheek, “Oh thank you, Negan! I missed you so much! It’s so good to see you again. I can’t wait to catch up with you.”

“Great,” he said, “My room after dinner. Don’t be late now.”

“I won’t!” she called over her shoulder, already walking briskly back to her bedroom, “I’ll even wear that little dress you like. I still have it!”

Congratulating himself on a well-executed plan, Negan walked the remaining few steps to the commissary and stuck his head around the door, looking for the supervisor. His eyes locked with an older woman who was taking stock of the items available that day.

“Julie won’t be in today,” he said with a cold, no-nonsense expression on his face, “She’s sick. Get someone in to cover for her.”

“There is no one else to cover for her!” the woman practically snarled at him.

“Well, then manage with the staff you have.”

“Prick,” the woman muttered under her breath.

Negan ignored the taunt and strode back to his bedroom alone, thinking about what the evening had in store for him. If he couldn’t trick Rebecca into wanting to spend time with him, he could at least bribe Julie into his bed. Maybe that was all he deserved anyway.

[lindoig4]

New York to Montreal to Reykjavik to Oslo to Longyearbyen

Fear not!  Lots of text here covering almost a week and a few thousand kilometres, but lots of pics coming soon.

20 July

We had to get up early, at least early for us, to get a cab to Penn Station for our trip to Montreal and another new country for us.

I had wondered how border control would work between the US and Canada, but it was pretty smooth.  When we checked in at the Penn Station desk, all the Montreal passengers were sent to a different queue and subsequently to separate carriages.  We had to wait in line for quite a while so Heather slipped into a nearby cafe and acquired a couple of yummy brekky rolls for us - and we ate them in the line with the smell encouraging a few other passengers to follow suit.

The trip was uneventful, but service was nowhere near as good on the Zephyr - it wasn’t on the Lakeside train either.  We were seated on the starboard side heading north and about half the trip was on the same line we came down on to New York a few days ago.  I imagined that there wouldn’t have been much to see because we had previously followed the Mohawk and Hudson so had great views of the rivers, but it was actually the best side after all.  There were a lot of marshy areas and low reeds in very extensive wetlands - even if the view was often blocked by swathes of trees.  There was much more variety on the starboard side.  Quite a lot of agriculture, even a few birds, but again, impossible to identify.

Once we passed Albany (All-bany here) and Schenectady, we were on a new track and again, the best views, including of the huge Lake Champlain, were spread out beside our window for over 100km.  It was quite beautiful, very rustic and peaceful, except in one touristy area where we were following high cliffs that dropped precipitously to the Lake (and its bustling hive of pleasure craft).

We arrived at the Canadian border just before dusk and sat there for well over an hour while the Canadian border people did a very courteous inspection and whatever else they needed to do.  Then on the Montreal, arriving an hour late again, but ready for food, a good cuppa and showers.  We caught a cab to the hotel and checked in, then went to the little convenience store across the road for food.  Not much choice unfortunately, but we bought enough spicy noodles and snacks for dinner and brekky tomorrow - not that we want to make a habit of spicy noodles for breakfast, but perhaps better than having to get up and dressed and heading out to scour the neighbourhood for something else on our first day in town.

If this sounds a bit disjointed, it is probably because it is.  It has been written in lots of micro-inscriptions.  We are now somewhere over the Atlantic, having just eaten a very (very, very) uninspiring meal, mainly of grass with a few chickpeas tossed in to justify the 17 Euro price tag.  On Icelandair, water is free, anything else requires one’s credit card.  The joys and expense of travel!  Not complaining though - our seaborne voyage is only a couple of days away, if the international dateline doesn’t take another toll on my calculations.

21 July

We didn’t see much of Montreal.  We were both pretty tired and achy and our coughs were still troublesome, particularly when we were supposed to be sleeping.  We were woken this morning by a few incredible claps of thunder, but it didn’t amount to much more.  Given all that, our unfamiliarity with the area, and being a little out of town anyway, we decided to have a lay-day and catch up on our blogs and photos, sorting and backing up, and generally doing some clerical housekeeping.  The Hotel internet was excruciatingly slow and kept dropping out so even uploading text to FB or our blogs was pretty fraught.  But numerous hours of patient effort delivered a modicum of success.

The Hotel won’t get much of a tick when Heather does her Tripadvisor review.  I had to shoulder charge the door to get it open because the frame had swelled in the humidity.  Very poor lighting and the supplementary desk-lamp didn’t work - and when they fixed it, it still didn’t work.  Serious leak in the shower that had water running out across the floor, mould and water damage everywhere - it goes on, but for all that, we managed.

I went out for an hour or two in the afternoon to look for birds, just walking around the local streets where there were lots of trees.  My count was 9 house sparrows, 9 feral pigeons and 1 cute squirrel.  At least I checked out some places to eat (not noodles again tonight!!!)

We went to Sports Bar a couple of blocks away for dinner and we both had surprisingly great meals.  I had ribs to die for!  We sat and watched the baseball on TV for a while.  We could possibly both get a bit hooked on it if it were more accessible in Australia.  Then we hit the IGA for some brekky and lunch sustenance and strolled back to the hotel on a really balmy night.

22 July

We had a delightful breakfast picnic, very leisurely, enjoying the cheesy croissants, cold cuts, cherries, rabbit pate and other delicious purchases from last night, saving enough to have another excellent repast at lunchtime.  We had brought home a litre bottle of pink rose with us so a little of that set us up for the morning and we finished it with lunch.

We blogged and did related tasks - and reorganised and repacked - in the morning with several interruptions from maids and maintenance men who seemed to think we should have been out by about 9am.  We understood (or misunderstood) that we had the room until 6pm, but arranged a late checkout (2pm) yesterday, so had some difficulty getting the message through to them - especially when they then insisted that we were not checking out until tomorrow!

We took a cab to the airport with only 6 hours to kill.

How I hate airports!  Probably one of my top two or three hates in the world.  We had to check out of the hotel at 2pm so we caught a cab out thinking that we could at least find a reasonably convenient spot to while away several hours with improved internet access.  We had tried to check in online, but the hotel internet was so slow, we got timed out after an hour or so with the task only half completed.

Never mind, we are early so we will use a terminal in the airport.  Only trouble was finding one in the hundreds – or at least one that accessed Icelandair.  We eventually found one and went through the whole process again only to be advised that we can’t check-in electronically, despite the website and terminal advice.  We need to go to a service desk.  I asked for directions at the ‘Information’ booth and was sent to the far end of the terminal, only to find that she had misinterpreted my Ocker accent - Icelandair is NOT Austria.  Back to the same place and got the same directions.  It took some time to persuade her that Iceland was a real place just like Austria, only different.  She eventually gave me a new desk number.

Trekked to the new location at the opposite end of the terminal to find that there was no such numbered desk.  Back to Information again - the desk will acquire that number when it opens in a bit over an hour - so just wait.  At the appointed time, I fronted the desk again to be told fairly curtly that it will be another hour before they start dealing with customers - irrespective of what erroneous advice the Information booth might be handing out.

We eventually lined up with 4 other customers ahead of us immediately they opened the desk.  The first customer took over half an hour with many delays while the attendant sought more information and the customer tried to find documents or information on her phone.  They finally parked her and called the next person whose passport and travel documents were all securely locked inside her baggage so she had to unpack and repack, but then went on her way. They then moved everyone into another queue while they set up some bank queues to control the crowd.  In the process, at least two groups pushed in ahead of the rest of us.  Then they opened two more desks and we were through in just over another hour.  The couple that got ‘parked’ were still there arguing when we left, but they must have finally got sorted because they were on the flight with us.

Security and Immigration are still ahead of us and after sitting around for nearly three hours, I am starting to feel frustrated.

As it turned out, there is no Immigration process here, and Security, although fairly slow and thorough, could certainly teach the rest of the world a big lesson in courtesy and good manners.  And hardly more than a kilometre to walk to the gate.  We bought a bottle of Southern Comfort in Duty Free, marginally cheaper than in Oz, one of Heather’s favourites at present, to enjoy on board the ship.

23 July (possibly sort of)

Our trip from Montreal to Oslo spanned two days so I am not sure what date/s it was/were, but given that it will be a different date if/when anyone ever reads this, it is probably not too important.

The flight from Montreal to Reykjavik was long and horrible.  Initially cold then unbearably hot.  Very cramped and uncomfortable.  I have been in the centre seat each flight and I had a really big guy in the window seat who hogged the armrest and half my seat as well.  He had swapped with his much smaller teenaged son because he wanted to sit near his brother, but it meant I had to sit at an angle to squeeze into the bit of seat he deigned to leave for me.  I was very tired but couldn’t sleep and I twitched and squirmed for nearly 5 of the most uncomfortable hours I can remember.  Did I say, how much I hate aeroplanes and flying?

Reykjavik was essentially a 2-hour and a bit stopover in transit.  Nothing was open when we arrived at 5am local time, but we were able to get a bit of breakfast before we had to board for our next leg to Oslo.  We actually bought a bit extra in the airport to avoid the excessive prices on Icelandair.

The flight to Oslo was slightly less painful and nearly 2 hours shorter and I actually dozed off for a few minutes, something I have managed to do 3 or maybe 4 times before on a flight - in I don’t know how many hundred flights.  I actually saw a bit of the fiord coast of Greenland and the coast of Norway en route, but as they say, ‘nothing to see here’ closer to the ground around Oslo - fog shrouded everything and visibility was under 100 metres.  I am assuming it was an instrument landing or the pilot had some sort of magical night vision goggles because it was far too late to make any adjustments by the time he could have seen the tarmac through the soup.

Amazingly, there was no paperwork required to enter Norway - no forms to fill in, a very quick trip through Immigration (less than a minute) - but a half hour wait for our luggage and a fast walk through the ‘nothing to declare’ exit.  There were a few alternatives to get to the city and after asking at several places, we opted for the fast train to the city and back again tomorrow.  Quite a lot cheaper than Melbourne’s Skybus!!!

It was a very fast, smooth and scenic trip to the Central Station, but then we were completely lost!  How do we find our hotel?  We wandered around for a while trying to get our bearings and finally resorted to asking a couple of cops walking past.  Aha, there is was, less than 50 metres away, still inside the station!  Very convenient and quite a good, comfortable room too.  The fog had even lifted somewhat by the time we got settled too.

We were both pretty buggered, but despite everything, we decided on a short walk and an early dinner instead of falling into bed mid-afternoon.

Our hotel was only 100 metres or so from the water and two cruise ships were in so there were people everywhere but it was warm and sunny, perhaps almost too hot, and we wandered around the wharf area and the park and public space outside our window for an hour or two - and I added 7 more birds to our trip list, all birds that we had seen before, although a couple of different subspecies.

We were hot and sweaty so went to an open air cafe for a cold a one.  I mentioned that the train transfer was cheaper than the Skybus.  Cheapness seems to have ended there.  I had the cheapest beer available - the smallest cost $17 Australian.  And it was interesting to look at all the small things in the huge Duty Free area in the airport.  Lots of small trinkets, lollies and unusual things, but the prices!!!!  500 grams of M&Ms for $31 in Oz money as just one example.  We didn’t buy anything!!!

After our drink, we went supermarket shopping.  Mainly just bought a few bottles of wine to smuggle onto the ship.  A bit cheaper than buying in $US on board.

We bought fish and chips from a food cart for dinner.  Very tasty, but not a huge serve at $21 Australian each.  We ate in the room, quaffed some Chilean red and crashed before 8pm after more than 40 hours on the move.

Not really a good night.  Heather’s cough kept her awake and for some unknown reason, I had a really bad headache and felt thoroughly sick most of the night.  I have been having a lot of reflux problems in the last few months (chronic condition of 40 years), hence our panic buying and restocking of meds in Chicago and New York - and I suspect that was the problem last night.  We had an excellent brekky in the hotel and I felt a bit better, but got worse again until almost ready to board the plane, then was fine again.  I just need to manage it with extra meds until we get home again.  We had deliberately decided on this course of action before leaving home to avoid a last minute gastroscopy before the trip.  Something to look forward to.......

We took the train to the airport again and as much as I hate it all, I have to commend the Norwegians on their courtesy and respect going through security. They were at least as good, if not better, than in Canada and I wish some of the arrogant offensive mongrel bull terriers in Australian airports could see how humans should be treated.

We arrived in Longyearbyen to 6 degrees cool and caught the bus to our hotel.  It is very much a frontier town and polar bears are obviously an issue.  There as a warning video in the airport not to go out without a suitable gun!  Not sure what ‘suitable’ means, but we don’t have anything more potent than our hiking sticks.

The town, such as it is, is very spread out with lots of pretty awful industrial-looking processing plants and crap laying around everywhere.  But it is awesome country.  We are surrounded by very steep mountains, mainly black with lots of areas of snow.   It is clearly glacier country with at least one extinct volcano just across the water from town.  All very dramatic, but I suspect the next few days will dwarf its grandeur with even more spectacular scenery.

We are more than 12 degrees inside the Arctic Circle.  Who would ever imagine we would be in the land of ice and snow?  Haven’t seen Santa yet, but I am sure he will be around somewhere.  (We saw quite a few of his reindeer during the next week or so!)  It is certainly the Land of the Midnight Sun. It never gets dark at all at this time of the year, and I was intrigued to realise that at least today, the sun will set BEFORE it rises.  Sunset is at 12:04am and sunrise is an hour later at 01:09am.

We spent quite a bit of time reorganising our gear for the cruise, then went out for a walk - without a gun.  It is obviously safe in the daylight and around the housing areas but there are plenty of stories about polar bears roaming the streets and being quite difficult to move back into their own territory.

We went to the supermarket and bought more booze and walked toward the water, but ran out of steam doing it so headed back to our digs.  The supermarket was one of several buildings with signs outside prohibiting guns inside.  I am not sure what the intrepid outbacker does when he comes to town for supplies and can’t enter the supermarket or buy an icecream with his guns.  Does he leave them outside the door – and possibly lose them – or take them home and get eaten by a bear on his way back for his icecream?

Of course, high latitudes come with high prices.  We ate in the hotel where main courses are about $70 Oz.  We celebrated with a glass of their cheapest bubbly. Pretty ordinary drop, under 75 ml for $AU16.  We snacked rather than ate and it still cost almost $100 each.

There are shutters and blinds on the windows so we made it as dark as we could and slept on and off but woke early and were up and facing the continuing day well before breakfast.

[anavoliselenu]

This man chapter 5

As I walk down the stairs, I see my car keys lying on the door mat. So, the man’s seen sense and freed my car. Does this mean he’s also seen sense and given up pursuing me? Has he got the message? Perhaps he has, because there have been no calls or texts since he steamed out last night. Am I disappointed? I don’t have time to consider this.

‘I’m off,’ I shout through to Kate. ‘My car’s back.’

She pokes her head around the door of her workshop. ‘Great, good luck. I’ll be there later to drink all the expensive champagne.’

‘Oh, yes. See you later.’ I run down the path, halting when I see a cheap mobile phone smashed to pieces in the middle of the pavement. I know where that’s come from. I kick it into the gutter and continue to my car. Oh, it’s good to have her back. I load my things into the boot and jump into the driver seat, only to find myself miles away from the steering wheel.

Laughing, I shift the seat forward so my feet reach the pedals. I start her up and jump out of my skin when the stereo blasts Blur around my car. Christ, is his lack of hearing an indication to his age? I turn it down, faltering when the words of the track register. It’s Country house. I fight the small part of me that wants to laugh at his little joke and remove the disc from the stereo. I don’t think I’ve ever come across anyone so conceited in all my life. I replace the unwanted CD with a Ministry of Sound Chill out Session and head for St Katharine Docks.

When I pull up outside Lusso, I present my face to the camera and the gates open immediately. I park up and see the caterers unloading crockery and glasses as I get my work case from the boot and head into the building. I’ve been here a million times, but I’m still completely stunned by the pure extravagance of the place.

As I walk into the foyer, I see Clive, one of the concierges, playing with the new computer equipment. He’s part of a team who’ll provide a six star hotel-style service, organising anything from grocery shopping and theatre tickets, to helicopter charters and dinner reservations. I cross the marble floor, which has been polished to within an inch of its life, and head towards Clive’s huge, curved concierge desk.

I spot dozens of black vases and hundreds of Italian red roses, placed carefully to the side. At least I won’t have to chase the delivery of those.

‘Good morning, Clive.’ I say, approaching his desk.

He looks up from one of the screens, the panic on his friendly face clear. ‘Selena, I’ve read this manual four times in a week and I’m still clueless. We never had anything like this at The Dorchester.’

‘It can’t be that difficult,’ I soothe the old boy. ‘Have you asked the surveillance team?’

He throws his glasses down on the desk in exasperation, rubbing his eyes. ‘Yes, three times now. They must think I’m daft.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ I assure him. ‘When do they start moving in?’

‘Tomorrow. Are you all set for tonight?’

‘Ask me again this afternoon. I’ll see you in a bit.’

He smiles. ‘Okay, love.’ He turns his attention back to his instruction manual, muttering under his breath.

I traipse across the floor and punch in the code for the penthouse elevator. It’s private and the only one that goes to the top floor.

I set about transporting and spreading the vases and flowers between the fifteen floors of the building. Arranging these will keep me busy for a while.

At ten thirty, I’m back in the foyer and arranging the last of my flowers on the console tables that line the foyer.

‘I have flowers for a Miss O’Shea.’

I look up, seeing a young girl gazing around at the impressive lobby. ‘Sorry?’

She points to her clipboard. ‘I have a delivery for Miss O’Shea.’

I roll my eyes. Don’t tell me they’ve duplicated an order of over four hundred Italian red roses. That really would take incompetence to a whole new level.

‘I’ve already taken delivery of the flowers.’ I say tiredly, walking towards her. I notice the van outside, but it’s not the florist I ordered through.

‘Have you?’ She looks a bit panicky as she flicks through the papers on her clipboard.

‘What have you got?’ I ask.

‘A bouquet of calla lilies for Miss…’ She looks at her clipboard again. ‘Miss Selena O’Shea.’

‘I’m Selena O’Shea.’

‘Cool, I’ll be two seconds.’ She runs off, returning swiftly. ‘This place is like Fort Knox!’ she exclaims. She hands me the biggest spray of calla lilies I’ve ever seen – stunning, white, clean flowers surrounded by stacks of deep green foliage.

Understated elegance.

My stomach does a few cartwheels as I sign the delivery girl’s paperwork and take the flowers from her, finding the card among the forest of green.

I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please. X

Is he? He already apologised for his inappropriate behavior and look where that got me. I start to wonder how he’d know I’m here, but then I remember him picking out Lusso in my portfolio. It wouldn’t take a lot of effort to find out the launch date and figure I would be here. My contentment of yesterday evening, after Justin left the house, is slowly dissipating. He’s never going to give up, is he? Well, he can knock himself out. I smile to myself. Knock himself out? Where did that…I flatten that thought immediately.

I place the flowers on the concierge desk. ‘Here, Clive. Let’s pretty up all this black marble.’ He looks up briefly before returning to scratching his head, looking overwhelmed. I leave him to it, getting on with my walk through to ensure everything is in place and ready.

Victoria turns up at five thirty, looking her usual immaculate self – all blonde hair, blue eyes and overdone.

‘Sorry I’m late. The traffic’s a nightmare and there’s nowhere to park.’ She gazes around. ‘They’re all reserved for guests. What can I do, I’m so excited!’ she sings at me, while stroking the walls of the penthouse.

‘I’m all done. I just need you to do a walk through to make sure there’s nothing that I’ve missed.’ I lead her into the main space.

‘Oh my God, Selena, it looks amazing!’

‘It’s great, isn’t it? I’ve never had such a colossal budget. It was fun spending so much of someone else’s money.’ We giggle together. ‘Have you seen the kitchen?’ I ask.

‘I’ve not seen it complete. I bet it’s incredible.’

‘It is, go and take a look. I’m going to get myself ready in the spa. I’ve done everything in the other apartments so concentrate up here. This is where the action will be. Make sure all the cushions are plumped and in place. I want the peppers on the chopping boards shiny. Use Pledge! The mini Dyson is here. Hoover up any stray bits on the bedroom carpets,’ I hand her the fully charged, hand held hoover. ‘Just use your initiative. If there’s anything you’re not sure of, make a note. Okay?’

She grabs the hoover from me. ‘I love these things.’ she revs the Dyson, posing like a cowboy in a standoff.

‘How old are you?’ I ask on an eye roll.

She screws her face up, grins and sets off to follow through on my instructions.

An hour later, after utilising all of Lusso’s fancy spa facilities, I’m ready. My dress is creaseless and my hair is behaving. I take a little wander around. This will be my last time here, and it will soon be crowded with business people and high society, so I make the most of my last opportunity to savour the sheer magnificence of the place. It’s mind-blowing. I still can’t believe this is my work. I smile to myself as I stand in the colossal open space on the first floor. Bi-folding doors lead to an L shaped terrace, with limestone paving, a decked area, sun loungers and a huge Jacuzzi. There’s a study, dining room, a huge archway leading into a ridiculously large kitchen, and a back-lit onyx staircase that rises to the four en-suite bedrooms and a massive master suite. The spa, fitness centre and swimming pool, on the ground floor of the building, are exclusive to the residents of Lusso, but the penthouse boasts its own gym. It’s stunning. Whoever’s brought this place definitely likes the finer things in life and for a cool ten million, they’ve got it.

I make my way back to the kitchen and find Victoria, still armed with the Dyson.

‘All done,’ she declares as she hoovers up a stray crumb on the marble worktop.

‘Well, let’s drink.’ I smirk and pick up two glasses of champagne, handing one to Victoria.

‘Here’s to you, Selena. Stylish in body and in mind,’ She giggles, raising her glass in a toast. We both swig and sigh. ‘Wow! This is good.’ She looks at the bottle.

‘Ca’Del Bosco, Cuvée Annamaria Clementi, 1993. It’s Italian, of course.’ I raise my brow and Victoria giggles again.

I hear chatter coming from the entrance hall, so I wander out of the kitchen, finding Tom gawping like a goldfish and Patrick smiling proudly.

‘Selena, this is some serious special, darling!’ Tom runs at me, throwing his arms around my body. He pulls back, looking me up and down. ‘Love the dress. Very tight.’

I wish I could say the same for Tom, who takes colour clash to extreme levels. I squint at his bright blue shirt and red tie combo.

‘Put the girl down, Tom. You’ll crease her,’ Patrick grumbles, gently shoving him aside and leaning down to peck me on the cheek. ‘I’m very proud of you, flower. You’ve done a marvelous job, and between me and you –’ He leans into my ear and whispers. ‘The developer has hinted they want you on board for the next project in Holland Park.’ He winks at me, his wrinkled face wrinkling further. ‘Now, where’s that champagne?’

‘This way,’ I lead them into the huge kitchen, hearing more cooing from Tom. The place really is that special.

‘Cheers!’ I chant, after handing them all a glass of champagne.

‘Cheers!’ They all raise their glasses.

I spend a few hours being introduced to high society and explaining my inspiration behind the design. Journalists from architecture and interior magazines swan around taking photographs and generally poking about. Much to my displeasure, they hustle me onto velvet chaise lounge for a shot. Patrick drags me from pillar to post, proclaiming his pride and insisting, to anyone that will listen, that I’ve single handedly put Rococo Union on the designers map. I blush profusely, repeatedly playing down his declarations.

I’m thankful when Kate shows up. I usher her into the kitchen, thrusting a glass of champagne in her hand and take another for myself.

‘Bit posh, eh?’ she muses, gazing around the plush kitchen. ‘It makes my place look like a cluttered mess.’

I laugh at the referral to her cute, homely town house that looks like Cath Kidston has vomited, sneezed and coughed all over it. ‘You mean impressive, I’m sure.’

‘Yes, that too. I couldn’t live here though.’ she says with no shame at all. I’m not offended. While I’m proud of the finished result, the sheer vastness of the place intimidates me.

‘Me either.’ I concur.

‘I saw Matt earlier.’ She downs her champagne, immediately scooping up another from a tray as a waiter passes.

‘Oh, I bet that was nice for you.’ I tease, imagining Kate hissing and spitting like a cat at poor Matt. It’s no less than he deserves.

‘No, it wasn’t. The part where he told me that you were going out for dinner with him was particularly unpleasant.’ She purses her lips at me. ‘Selena, what are you thinking? I’m here to threaten you.’

‘Oh, and there was me thinking you’d come to support your friend in her working triumph.’ I raise my eyebrows.

‘Pah! Your working life is not an area in which you need support. On the other hand, your personal life is very interesting lately.’ She jiggles her eyebrows up and down suggestively. I know what she’s getting at, and she’s not heard the half of it. Damn Matt as well. We’re not even together anymore and he still can’t resist winding her up.

I feign a hurt face. ‘You needn’t worry. I assure you, I’m not going back to that. I’m enjoying being man free, and that isn’t going to change anytime soon. Anyway, for the record, Matt’s winding you up.’ I sip my champagne.

‘Not even for tall, handsome, slightly older blondes?’ She grins.

I narrow my eyes on her. ‘Not even then.’ I confirm.

‘Oh, don’t be such a bore.’

‘Excuse me?’ This time, my hurt expression isn’t feigned. Boring? I’m not boring. Kate’s Wild! I look at her in disbelief, genuinely hurt by her harsh remark. I wait for her to back track, but she doesn’t. Instead, she’s looking over my shoulder with the biggest smirk on her face.

Impatient and quite pissed off with her, I swing around to find out what’s caught her amused attention.

Oh no!

‘He’s like a bad penny, isn’t he?’ she remarks coolly.

Chapter 8

Oh, she has no idea.

I’ve not even filled her in on any of the developments since she met him at lunch. And here he is again, stood chatting with the acting estate agent, wearing a navy suit and pale blue shirt, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a file. He looks, as always, like a f**king God. And as if he can sense me staring, he looks up and our eyes meet.

‘Shit!’ I curse, turning back to Kate. She drags her gaze from Ward and onto me, her eyes dancing with delight.

‘You know, I was going to go home and cry into my Haagen-Dazs, Bridgette Jones style, but I think I’ll just hang around for a bit. You mind?’ She sips her drink through her grin, while I snarl at her. ‘This is not the behavior of someone, supposedly, unmoved by a certain someone, Selena.’ she teases.

‘I went to The Manor on Tuesday and nearly slept with him.’ I blurt.

‘What!’ Kate splutters, grabbing a napkin to mop up the trail of champagne that’s dripping down her chin.

‘He apologised for the text he sent. I went back to The Manor and he had the big guy lock me in a room. He was waiting for me half naked!’

‘Get out! Oh my God. Who’s the big guy?’

‘Well, he’s not a butler. I’ve no idea what role he plays. Trapping women for Ward, maybe.’

‘Why haven’t you told me this?’

‘It was a disaster. I ran out when I heard his girlfriend calling him. Ward screwed and turned up at the house last night making demands.’ The urgency to bring Kate up to speed has me spitting out the basic facts in a rush.

‘Fuck! What sort of demands?’ She’s shocked. She should be. It’s shocking.

‘I don’t know. The man’s an arrogant arse. He asked me how loud I’d scream when he f**ks me.’

She spits more champagne. ‘He what? Fuck, Selena, he’s coming over, he’s coming over!’ She shifts on the spot, her eyes still skipping with amusement.

Why is he here? I start planning my escape, but before my brain can even instruct my legs to move, I can feel him stood behind me; I can smell him.

‘Nice to see you again, Kate.’ he drawls. ‘Selena?’

I remain with my back to him, knowing all too well that if I turn to acknowledge him, I’ll be hauled into the hazardous place that is Justin Ward’s realm – a place where I struggle to maintain any rational thinking. I drained my reserve tank of strength last night, and I’ve not had a chance to replenish it yet. This is not good news. He said I wouldn’t have to see him again. If I told him what he didn’t want to hear, then I would never have to see him again. I met the terms of his demand, so why is he not keeping to his end of the bargain?

Kate’s eyes are darting between us, waiting for one of us to say something. I certainly won’t be.

‘Justin.’ She nods at him. ‘Excuse me. I need to powder my nose.’ She places her empty on the worktop and beats feet. I mentally curse her arse to Hell.

He circles around me so he’s stood before me. ‘You look stunning.’ he murmurs.

‘You said I wouldn’t have to see you again.’ I challenge him, ignoring his compliment.

‘I didn’t know you would be here.’

I look at him tiredly. ‘You sent me flowers.’

‘Oh, so I did.’ A smile tickles the edge of his lips.

I don’t have time for his games. He’s really met his match in me. ‘Please, excuse me.’ I go to side step him, but he moves with me, effectively blocking my path.

‘I was hoping for a tour.’

‘I’ll get Victoria. She’ll be happy to show you around.’

‘I would prefer you.’

‘You don’t get a f**k with a tour.’ I snap.

He frowns. ‘Will you watch your mouth?’

‘Sorry,’ I mutter indignantly. ‘And put my seat back when you drive my car.’

He grin’s a real boyish grin, and I’m even more furious with myself when my heart speeds up. I mustn’t let him see the affect he has on me.

‘And leave my music alone!’

‘I’m sorry.’ His eyes flicker with mischievousness. It’s so bloody sexy. ‘Are you okay? You look a little shaky.’ He reaches out, softly running his finger down my bare arm. ‘Is something affecting you?’

I jerk away. ‘Not at all,’ I need to get off this line of conversation. ‘Did you want a tour?’

‘I would love a tour.’ He looks pleased with himself.

On a huff, I lead him out of the kitchen and into the massive living space. ‘Lounge,’ I wave my hand about in the general space around us. ‘You’ve seen the kitchen,’ I say over my shoulder as I walk through the open space and onto the terrace. ‘View,’ I maintain my tired tone, hearing him laugh lightly behind me.

I lead him back through the lounge to the workout room, not saying a word as we trek through the penthouse. Justin shakes hands, greeting various people on our travels, but I don’t pause to allow him time to stop and chat. I march on in a bid to get this over with as soon as possible. Damn this place for being so big.

‘Gym,’ I state, walking in and abruptly leaving again when he enters. I head for the stairs, hearing him laugh behind me. I take the back-lit, onyx staircase, proceeding to open and shut doors, one at a time, while declaring what lies beyond. We reach the pièce de résistance, the master suite, and I wave my hand round at the dressing room and en-suite bathroom. The place really does deserve more passion and time than I’m devoting.

‘You’re an expert tour guide, Selena.’ he teases, regarding one of my favourite pieces of art. ‘Care to enlighten me on the artist?’

‘Guiseppe Cavalli,’ I toss the name at him, folding my arms over my chest.

‘It’s good. Is there any particular reason why you chose this artist?’ He’s blatantly trying to temp me into conversation.

I stare at his broad, suit covered back, his hands resting lightly in his trouser pockets, his lean legs slightly spread. My eyes are very pleased, but my brain is in a jumbled mess. I sigh and decide, wisely or not, to indulge him. Guiseppe Cavalli most definitely deserves my time and enthusiasm. I drop my arms and walk over to join him in front of the piece.

‘He was known as the master of light,’ I say, and he looks at me with genuine interest. ‘He didn’t think that the subject was of any importance. It didn’t matter what he photographed. To him, the subject was always the light. He concentrated on controlling it. See?’ I point to the reflections on the water. ‘These rowing boats, as lovely as they are, are just boats, but see how he manipulates the light? He didn’t care for the boats. He cared for the light surrounding the boats. He makes inanimate objects interesting, makes you look at the photograph in a different…well, a different light, I suppose.’ I tilt my head and observe the picture. I never tire of it. As simple as it seems, the more you look at it, the more you get it.

After a few moments silence, I rip my eyes away from the canvas, finding Justin staring at me.

Our eyes meet. He’s chewing his bottom lip. I know I won’t be able to say no again if he pushes this. I’m all out of willpower. I’ve never felt so desired than when I’m with him, and I keep trying to fool myself that the feeling is unwanted.

‘Please don’t.’ My voice is barely audible.

‘Don’t what?’

‘You know what. You said I wouldn’t have to see you again.’

‘I lied,’ He’s not ashamed. ‘I can’t stay away from you, so you do have to see me again…and again…and again.’ He finishes the last part of his declaration slowly and clearly, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

I gasp, instinctively backing away from him.

‘You persistently fighting this is only making me more determined to prove that you want me.’ He starts slowly pursuing me, taking slow, cautious steps forward, maintaining his deep eye contact as he does. ‘I’m making it my mission objective. I’ll do anything.’

I stop my retreat when I feel the bed at the back of my knees. In two more strides, he’ll be upon me, and the thought of imminent contact in enough to snap me out of the trance he sends me into.

‘Stop,’ I hold my hand up in front of me, halting him in his tracks. ‘You don’t even know me.’ I blurt, in a desperate attempt to make him see how crazy this is.

‘I know you’re impossibly beautiful,’ He starts towards me again. ‘I know what I feel, and I know that you’re feeling it too.’ We’re body to body now, and my heart is hammering in my throat. ‘So, tell me, Selena. What have I missed?’

I try to control my rushed breaths, but with my chest heaving and my body physically shaking, I’m struggling. I drop my head, ashamed at the tears gathering in my eyes. Why am I crying? Is he enjoying reducing me to tears? This is hideous. He’s so desperate to bed me, he’s resorting to stalking me, and I’m crying because I’m so weak. He makes me weak, and he has no right to.

I feel his hand slide under my chin, and the warmth would be welcome, if I didn’t think he was such an arsehole right now. He tugs at my jaw to raise my head. When our eyes meet, he winces at my tears.

‘I’m sorry.’ he whispers softly, sliding his hand around to cup my cheek, slowly stroking the rolling tears away with his thumb. His expression is pure torment. Good. It should be.

I find my voice. ‘You said you would leave me alone.’ I look at him questioningly as he continues to smooth his thumb over my face. Why is he chasing me like this? He’s clearly unhappy in his relationship, but it doesn’t make this right.

‘I lied, I’m sorry. I told you, I can’t stay away.’

‘You already said that you’re sorry, but here you are again. Am I to expect flowers tomorrow?’ I don’t hide my sarcasm.

His thumb pauses and he drops his head. Now he’s ashamed. But then his head lifts, our eyes connect and his gaze drops to my lips. Oh, no. Please, no. I’ll never be able to stop this. He begins searching my eyes, looking for any sign that I’m going to block him. Am I? I know I should, but I don’t think I can. His lips part and they slowly start lowering to mine. I hold my breath. As our lips brush, only very lightly, my body gives way, prompting my hands to fly up and bunch his jacket in my fists. He growls his approval as he moves his hands to the base on my spine and pushes my body closer to him, our lips hovering over each other, our breaths mingling. We both shake uncontrollably.

‘Have you ever felt like this?’ he breathes, running his lips across my cheek to my ear.

‘Never,’ I answer honestly. My short, gasping breath is unrecognisable.

He grips the lobe of my ear between his teeth and tugs gently, letting the flesh drag through his bite. ‘Are you ready to stop fighting it now?’ he whispers, tracing down the edge of my ear with the tip of his tongue, working his way back up and brushing his lips lightly over the sensitive flesh under my ear. His hot breath causes a rush of heat to crash between my thighs. I can’t fight this anymore.

‘Oh God,’ I breathe, and his lips return to mine to hush me. He takes them gently, and I accept it, letting our tongues roll and lap together at a steady, non-urgent pace. It’s too good. My whole body is on fire, and I realise my hands are aching from gripping his jacket too hard. I release them, moving them to the back of his neck to stroke the dark blonde hair on his nape.

He moans, releasing my mouth. ‘Is that a yes?’ He fixes me with his sludgy eyes.

I know I’m supposed to answer here. ‘Yes.’

Nodding his head, only very slightly, he kisses my nose, my cheek, my forehead and returns to my mouth. ‘I need to have all of you, Selena. Say I can have all of you.’

All of me? What does he mean by all of me? Mind? Soul? But he doesn’t mean that, does he? No, he wants all of my body. And right now, my conscience has completely failed me. I need to get this man out of my system. He needs to get me out of his system.

‘Take me.’ I say quietly against his lips.

‘Oh, I will.’

Keeping his lips firmly against mine, he wraps one arm around my waist and splays the other across the back of my head. Lifting me from my feet, he deepens his kiss and walks me across the room until my back is against a wall. Our tongues dance together wildly, my hands moving down his back. I want closer contact. I grab the front of his jacket and start pushing it off of his shoulders, forcing him to release his hold of me. He keeps our lips locked, stepping back slightly to give me space to rid him of the obstruction to his body. I toss it on the floor, grab his shirt and yank him towards me, all my previous battling of conscious long forgotten. I have to have him.

Our bodies smash together and he pushes me up the wall, devouring my mouth.

‘Fucking hell, Selena.’ he pants through strangled breaths. ‘You make me crazy.’

He rolls his hips, pushing his erection into me, milking a small cry from my lips. I fist my hands in his hair, moaning in invitation. This is way past stoppable now. My body has gone into cruise control, the stop button lost somewhere in the land of lust. I feel his palms rest on the front of my thighs, my dress bunched in his fists and pulled up over my waist in one swift tug. His h*ps roll again and I whimper. I need more. Christ, I don’t know how I’ve resisted this. He bites my bottom lip and releases me, pulling his face away and looking me straight in the eyes. He rolls his h*ps again, grinding hard against my core. My head falls back on a deep moan, giving him open access to my throat, which he takes full advantage of, licking, sucking and lapping at the hollow. I could weep with pleasure. But then I hear voices coming from outside of the room and reality comes crashing down around me. What am I doing? I’m in the master suite of the penthouse, with my dress around my waist and Justin at my throat. There are hundreds of people milling about down stairs. Someone could walk in at any moment. Someone will walk in at any moment.

‘Justin,’ I pant, trying to get his attention. ‘Justin, people are coming, you have to stop.’ I wriggle a little, causing his erection to hit me in just the right spot. I bang my head against the wall to try and halt the stab of pleasure it causes.

He groans, long and low. ‘I’m not letting you go, not now.’

‘We need to stop.’

‘No.’ he growls.

Oh, flipping heck. Anyone could walk through that door. ‘We’ll do this later.’ I try and pacify him. I need to get him off of me.

‘That leaves you too much time to change your mind.’ He nibbles my neck.

‘I won’t change my mind,’ I grip his jaw, pulling his face to mine so we’re nose to nose. I look him squarely in his sludgy pools of green. ‘I will not change my mind.’

He scans my eyes, looking for the reassurance he needs, but I couldn’t be any more resolute. I want this. Yes, I might have time to evaluate the situation, but right now, I’m certain I’ll see this through. He’s just way too tempting to resist, and God I’ve tried.

He kisses me hard on the lips and pulls away. ‘Sorry, I can’t risk it.’ He scoops me up into his arms and stalks towards the bathroom.

‘What? They’ll want to see in there too.’ He can’t be serious?

‘I’ll lock the door. No screaming.’ He looks at me on a small smirk.

I’m shocked, but I laugh. ‘You have no shame.’

‘No. My c**k has been aching since last Friday, I finally have you in my arms and you’ve seen sense. I’m going nowhere and neither are you.’

Chapter 9

He kicks the door shut behind him, placing me between the sinks on the marble vanity unit before returning to lock the door. My dress is still bunched around my waist, my legs and knickers completely exposed.

I gaze around the vast room that I’m so familiar with, my eyes falling on the gigantic, cream, marble bath dominating the centre of the room. I smile, remembering the trauma of having to organise a crane to lift it in through the windows. It was a nightmare, but it does look spectacular. The double, open ended shower on the back wall is made up of a floor to ceiling sheeted glass and beige Travertine tiles, and the vanity unit that I’ve been placed on is cream, Italian marble, with two sunken sinks and large waterfall taps. A thick, gold framed, intricately carved mirror spans the entire width of the unit, and a chaise lounge sits at an angle in the window. It really is luxury embodied.

I hear the lock click into place, snapping me from admiring my work and pulling my eyes to the door, where Justin is watching me closely. As he saunters towards me, he slowly starts unbuttoning his shirt. I watch him gain on me, his mouth lax, his eyes hooded. Anticipation has my stomach churning and my thighs clenching shut. This man is absolutely stunning.

With his final button unfastened, he stands before me with his shirt draped open. I can’t resist reaching up and running my finger down the centre of his hard, tanned chest. He looks down to follow my trail, placing his hands on either side of my hips, nudging his way between my thighs. As he looks at me, his lips tip at the edges and his eyes sparkle, the slight creases at the corner softening the usual intensiveness of them.

‘You can’t escape now.’ he teases.

‘I don’t want to.’

‘Good.’ he mouths, dragging my eyes to his lovely lips.

I trail my finger back up his chest, working my way past his throat until my finger rests on his bottom lip. He opens his mouth, biting my finger playfully. I smile, continuing upwards and running my hand through his hair.

‘I like your dress.’ He drags his eyes down my front.

I follow his stare to the bunched up material around my waist. ‘Thank you.’

‘It’s a bit restrictive.’ He tugs at a piece of material.

‘It is.’ I agree. The anticipation is killing me. Rip off the dress!

‘Shall we remove it?’ He cocks a brow at me, the corners of his mouth twitching.

I smile. ‘If you like,’

‘Or maybe, we leave it on?’ He breaks into a full on smile as he holds his hands up.

I melt all over the vanity unit.

He slides his hands around my back. ‘But then again, I have firsthand knowledge of what’s under this lovely dress,’ He reaches up, grasping the zipper, breathing into my ear as he does. ‘And it’s far superior to the dress.’ he whispers, pulling it down slowly, teasingly. I’m panting hard and desperate. ‘I think we’ll get rid of it.’ He lifts me off of the counter, placing me on my feet before pulling my dress away from my body and letting it drop to the floor. He kicks it to the side without taking his eyes off of me.

I frown at him. ‘I like that dress.’ I couldn’t give a toss about the dress. He could have ripped it off and cleaned the windows with it, for all I care.

‘I’ll buy you a new one.’ He shrugs as he places me back on the counter, resuming position between my thighs. He presses his body up against me and grabs my bum, pulling me in towards him so we’re locked tight together. He grinds his h*ps while staring at me.

The throb at my core is bordering on painful, and I’m at serious risk of falling apart if he continues with that alone. I want to tell him to hurry up; I’m struggling to control myself here.

Reaching behind me, he unclasps my bra, pulling the straps down my arms and flinging it behind him. I lean back on my hands, exposing my br**sts to him.

Looking into my eyes, he lifts his hand and places it, palm down, under my throat. ‘I can feel your heart hammering.’ he says quietly. ‘You’re so affected by me.’

I’m not going to challenge him on that statement. He’s right, and I’m not even bothering to try and fight it anymore.

He glides his palm down between my br**sts until it rests on my stomach, as he looks at me – all smoldering and delicious.

‘You’re too f**king beautiful, lady’ he grinds firmly. ‘I think I’ll keep you.’

I arch my back, thrusting my chest forward, and he smiles before lowering his mouth and taking my nipple deep, sucking hard. When he brings his hand up to massage my other breast, I moan, letting my head fall back against the mirror. Oh, good God. The man is a genius. His arousal is as hard as lead, pressing between my thighs, causing me to roll my h*ps to ease the throb on a long, drawn out moan. I don’t know what to do with myself. I want to soak up the pleasure because it’s so good, but the need to have him is getting the better of me, the pressure in my groin near exploding point. As if reading my mind, he skates his hand up the inside of my thigh, finding the edge of my knickers. One finger breaches the barrier, lightly brushing the tip of my clit.

‘Shit!’ I cry, throwing myself up to grab his shoulders, digging my nails into his strained muscles.

‘Language, lady.’ he tusks, then slams his lips against mine, plunging two fingers into me.

My muscles grab onto him as he works them in and out. I might, literally, die of pleasure. I feel the fast buildup of an impending orgasm, and I know it’s going to blow me apart. Holding onto his shoulders for dear life, I moan into his mouth as he continues his assault on me.

Oh, here it is.

‘Come.’ he commands, applying more pressure to the top of my clit.

I fall apart in an explosion of stars, releasing his mouth and tossing my head back in a complete frenzy. I cry out. He grabs my head, yanking it forward to tackle my mouth, catching the tail end of my cries. I’m in pieces. I’m panting, shaking and boneless as I disintegrate all over him, completely inhibited and unashamed of what he does to me. I’m delirious with pleasure.

His kiss softens and his thrusts slow, easing me gradually down as he scatters tender kisses all over my damp, warm face. Too good, just too, too good.

I feel him brush a stray tendril of hair from my face and I open my eyes, meeting a sludgy green, satisfied stare. He plants a soft kiss on my lips. I sigh. I feel like a life’s time of pent up pressure has been extinguished, just like that. I’m relaxed and sated.

‘Better?’ he asks, sliding his fingers out of me.

‘Hmmm.’ I hum. I have no energy for speech.

His fingers drag across my bottom lip and he leans into me, watching me closely as he runs his tongue across my mouth, licking the remnants of my orgasm away. His eyes burn straight through me as we gaze at each other in silence. My hands, instinctively, reach up to cup his face, smoothing down his freshly shaven face. This man is beautiful, intense and passionate. And he could break my heart.

He smiles lightly, turning his face to kiss my palm before returning his eyes to mine. Oh Lord, I’m in trouble.

We’re both cruelly snatched from the intensity of the moment when the door handle of the bathroom is jiggled from the other side. I gasp and Justin slaps his palm over my mouth, looking at me in amusement. He finds this funny?

‘I can’t hear anything.’ A strange voice comes through the door, followed by another rattle of the handle. My eyes bulge in horror.

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