#he was like tailor made for me.... i miss him so (she has been passenger princessing what-happened for the last month)

[montanamp3]

no one will ever match my freak the way william yew did 😔 (carter family stan)

[cillians-sweetheart]

Secret Boyfriend - Thomas Shelby

Thomas Shelby(39) x Fem!Reader(18)

Plot: Y/N has a new, secret boyfriend who she meets up with late in the night to avoid judgement from her parents as he is not quite what they would want, but perfect for Y/N in pleasing all her needs.

Content: Smut, age-gap, pet names, secrecy, oral (m), rubbing (m & f), car sex, riding, dirty talk (m & f), huge daddy kink, no protection, Tommy sounds kinda pervy but romantic too

(Modern day Thomas Shelby in this story)

Laying in my little white bed, I kick my feet and grin at my screen while I text my new boyfriend, Thomas. I’ve met him through the internet and have met with a few times late at night when my parents were asleep. 

I couldn’t have them find out I had been seeing a man almost 3 times my age. I was freshly 18, and still a child to them. They’d never understand what Tommy and I have. He was tall, and fit. And each time I’d see him he’d wear the type of suits he wore to work. Perfectly tailored to his figure, and always smelling rich and manly. There was no way I could keep my hands to myself when I was with him.

Most nights I’d run out to his car in the dark and we’d drive around the city to an empty road where he'd kiss, and caress me until the sun rose. His lips were always so gentle. And during the day I’d sneak away from everyone to text him. 

{“I miss you”}, I texted while smiling and giggling like a high school girl. I mean technically I was, so it made sense.

Just seconds after a new message pops up on my screen. {“I miss you too my girl ;)”}

{“how was work?”}

{“Ah, it was fine, just boring office stuff. Nothing interesting.”} Thomas sent while sitting alone in his house, still in his work clothes and also grinning to himself.

{“Can I see you tonight?”}

{“Won’t your parents be home, baby?”}

{“Please daddy… I need you”}

Thomas chuckled to himself, {“Haha baby, don’t do this to me. I really want to come and touch you but I don’t want you getting caught”}

{“When my parents go to sleep I can sneak out and come meet you. No one will see me”}

{“Oh baby, you’re just tempting me. You know I can’t resist feeling you… I’ll be there tonight.”}

{“Ok thank you daddy, I’ll see you soon”} 

I sent the message with my cheeks a flustered shade of pink. I quickly jumped up from my bed and changed into nicer clothing and quickly applied makeup on my smooth face. It was getting late anyway so I’d get ready now. 

Thomas too got up and grabbed his car keys. He loved how I begged for him, and how I’d do anything just to see him. And soon enough he arrived outside my house. He was nervous for me, but couldn’t wait another second longer to touch me. 

{“I’m here love. Whenever you’re ready”}

{“Coming daddy”} I quickly replied and quickly ran down the stairs to the front door. 

When I came outside, Thomas was leaning against his expensive car with that handsome smirk he always got when he saw me. I quickly ran to him with my short dress flowing in the wind and brushing against my thighs. I wrapped my body around him in a tight hug, and inhaled deeply his rich scent and felt his toned chest through his shirt.

“Oh my princess…” He smiled and kissed the top of my head. “Come on baby.” He led me to the passenger seat and opened the door for me. 

We drove around through the dark empty roads. His big hand lightly rubbed my bare thigh with intimate caresses. Slowly I began to slide down in the seat making his hand go higher and higher between my legs. He got the hint and trailed his hand up my dress to gently tickle me through my thin, lacy pantries. 

I couldn’t take my eyes off him from beside me as he rubbed me with his finger. I bit my lip and whimpered at his touch. He looked over to me, his eyes scanning from my shivering legs up to my baby doll face. 

“You’re such a cute girl… couldn’t wait to see daddy, couldn’t you?” He asked with his voice so smooth, and silky on my ears. 

“Mhm,” I nodded, looking down between my legs at my growing wetness for him. 

Eventually after several minutes driving through the quiet streets, Thomas parked at the end of a dead road. There was nothing but trees and darkness all around us. Thomas turned off the car and turned to me. 

“Give daddy a kiss.” He leaned in closer to me, moving his hands up to hold my face. I instantly fell into him and my lips latched onto his hungrily. Sweet little moans escaped my lips each time they’d separate even the slightest. 

Thomas pulled back to look closely at my face. With his thumb he traced my bottom lip, and in return I kissed his skin lovingly like a little puppy. “Such a good girl… you know exactly how to please your daddy, hm?” 

I nodded, continuing to kiss his thumb and over his whole hand. My submission was more than obvious for him. There’s nothing I’d not do for him. 

I pulled my lips away from his hand and Thomas leaned back to get out of the car. I watched him outside just briefly before he got back into the car in the backseat. He sat right in the middle with his legs spread and his bulge showing through his dress pants. 

“Come here.” He sat back, watching me with amusement as I crawled to him. “Good girl… Crawl to daddy.” His voice was low and sensual, making my legs shiver. 

In the backseat I straddled Thomas’s lap and looked into his blue eyes that I could barely see in the dark, but I could feel the lust in them. 

My hands felt around on his muscular chest and unbuttoned his shirt as my hands travelled lower and lower down his torso. His skin beneath was hot, and smooth and the hair on his chest, and below his belly button made my panties wet as I touched it. His legs spread wider, and his pants grew tighter. I felt as his hardening cock poked and rubbed me through my pantries. It made my mouth water.

I moved to the side on the leather seat next to him and looked up into his eyes while I eagerly undid his pants. His hips moved lower into the seat and his head laid back against the leather. He felt his cock just aching to be touched, and sucked. 

“That’s good baby, keep going.” He groaned under his breath while I pulled his big, needy cock from his pants. My eyes glared up into his while my face and lips slowly lowered to his hot, wet skin. I kissed and licked at his pink tip like a little kitten while making eye contact the whole time.

Thomas petted my silky hair while looking down at me with admiration, “My good baby… pleasing your daddy so well,” He groaned to the feeling of my lips hungrily sucking and kissing on his tip. His hand gripped in my hair and he tilted my face up to look at him while he pushed my mouth down the length of his thick cock. He groaned and cursed while I loved on his sweet, sensitive skin. I needed to give daddy more and slowly bobbed my head and sucked in my cheeks around him. “Hmh… god… just like that baby, just like that.” 

I sucked and swallowed him like it was the last thing I’d ever do. I couldn’t stop myself even if I wanted to. He tasted so good, and making my daddy feel good was all that I lived for. 

I pulled my mouth up from his dripping cock with a pop when he tugged on my hair. “Come.” He patted his thigh and I obediently sat up and straddled his lap. “Let daddy see that little pussy…” He was voice rough and hot in my neck and he lifted the straps of my pantries off and down my hips. I leaned back and let him strip me until I was completely naked on his lap, sitting and waiting for the attention I craved. 

“So cute,” He whispered glaring down my body and between my legs. His fingers slipped between my legs and slowly he rubbed my wet clit in gentle circles.

I was so sensitive from my growing arousal, and my sweet sounds and whimpering just encouraged him more. 

His fingers felt so perfect, rubbing faster and harder. I grind against his fingers eagerly spreading my wetness all over his hand. “You wanna cum?” He asked with his breath hot in my neck. 

“Mhm… Mhm daddy, please” 

“Cum on my cock… rub it.” He turned to lay back onto the seats and I sat on his cock against his lower stomach. My wet lips stroked his length, and my clit rubbed against his smooth veiny skin. I moaned and whimpered all sweet and desperate while I rubbed my pussy on him. 

Tommy gripped my hips, “fuck…,” he groaned with his head falling back. My soft lips were practically milking him and filling his stomach with precum. And eventually, I came with loud needy moans, and my fingers digging into his chest. His cock was absolutely throbbing by now and was bigger than it's ever been. 

“Oh, that’s such a good girl…” he praised sitting back up on the seat, me still on his lap. Tommy’s hands reached up into my hair holding my face close to his. We kissed sloppily while I sat and lowered myself down onto his aching cock. It filled my little hole so perfectly. Made purely just for him, as he’s the only one who’s ever used it. 

My hands held onto Tommy’s bulky shoulders, and he lifted his hips to forcefully thrust. My high pitched moans were in sync with his quick movements, and echoed throughout the car. The windows fogged and the air around us got hot and humid. 

Tommy’s lips sucked and kissed at my neck leaving his mark of property. My fingernails dug into his back and shoulders while trying to muffle my pleasurable whines in his hot neck. 

“Yes… Yes!” I yelled pounding my hips down onto him. “Daddy!” My body trembled and grew weak. Thomas took control using all his strength to buck his hips up against mine, his cock reaching deep inside. 

Thomas’s hand held tightly onto my plump butt, moving me up and down. Both of our skin grew damp with sweat and arousal. The movement between us got sloppy the closer we got. Neither of us had a proper thought but the feelings in our bodies. Everything between us with our bodies and lips, it went so fast like time hadn’t existed. Nothing existed when he and I were together, nothing but each other. 

And eventually over those last few, sloppy thrusts, Thomas’s cock shot his hot cum deeply into my cervix. His hips bucked up into mine forcefully which broke me into spilling my fluids onto his lap. I held onto him tightly as the sensitivity grew and faded and as our bodies began to slow down to a stop. 

I breathed heavily with little whimpers escaping with my exhale. I could feel Tommy relax and soften while still inside me. And before we moved we took the time just holding each other and gently kissing with the little energy we had left. 

I could feel the love Thomas had for me from the way he’d caress my bare hip and kiss me ever so gently. There was always a difference between him -in the way he acted-  before and after sex, but I loved both sides equally. He was rough and dominant but also gentle and romantic. And in the end he’d drive me home and kiss every inch of my face before I’d go back inside to sleep peacefully. 

“I love you my sweet girl,” He’d say each time. 

And from me, “I love you too, daddy.” With a kiss on his cheek. 

[outofsstyles]

a/n: This is by far THE MOST requested fic I’ve ever had and (a year later) it’s finally here!! First of all, sorry that it took me so long but when I first wrote Wildest Dreams I never intended on it having a follow up, but the amount of love I got from it was so overwhelming that I decided to put this together for you all :) I’m not gonna lie, I’m a bit nervous about it, considering the amount of requests I’ve had the past year, I know there’s gonna be a lot of expectations and I wanted to do something a bit different so it’s not too predictable lol. So yeah, as always, feedback is very much welcomed!! If you enjoy please reblog it to support my writing, it would mean the world to me <3

word count: 13.7k

warnings: none!

concept: It’s Evan’s birthday and he decides to do something a bit different.

Wildest Dreams: read part 1 here :)

                                               ~*~ ~*~  ~*~

In the last two steps, you have to use your leg to support the box as it starts to slowly slip down your fingers. This serves as a reminder to start exercising again now that the midterm is over — meaning that you should finally give in to Nia’s pleas to join her in the free week of Pilates classes she got when signing in at the gym, “Exercising is one of the best ways to relieve stress!” She would argue, to which you’d simply reply with something along the lines of: “So does binging another trashy reality tv show!”

Thankfully, no one seems to notice your struggle, sparing you the embarrassment of listening to their teases due to your difficulty in carrying one of the smallest boxes of the bunch. Nate barely glances at you once you finally reach the car to hand him the box, only shooting the longest smile you’ve ever seen coming from him—which somehow still manages to be probably the quickest when compared to any other regular person. His girlfriend, who stands with hands on her hips, entirely held his attention. Nia’s purple strands of hair poke out of her half-bun in every direction and her bottom lip has found its permanent spot between her teeth as her eyes fixate on the vehicle in front of her, barely blinking.

“Everything alright, Ni?” You prompt, trying to even your breathing. “Forgot something? There’s still time to check.”

“It’s not that.” She mumbles, shaking her head to break out of her thoughts. “My keyboard doesn’t fit.” Nia nods at the instrument lying on top of the car’s ceiling.

“Oh,” You say, frowning your lips as you take in her stressed figure. Clearing your throat, you attempt to blurt out a joke, “Maybe it’s a sign you shouldn’t move it and stay right here in our little flat with creaky doors.”

She breathes out a sharp laugh, finally looking at you as she drops her arms. “Don’t start.” She warns, “You promised; no crying today.”

“Don’t worry, I’m good at holding back the tears.” You give her a soft smile, pulling her smaller frame into a hug. The sudden reality of your best friend and roommate leaving you hitting you at once. “Gonna miss you, Ni.”

You feel her sigh into your shoulder, arms circling around your middle. “I’ll be ten minutes away.”

“Not the same.”

“I know.”

The two of you sway in silence for a moment, and you watch from over her shoulder as Nate attempts to awkwardly pick up the keyboard, almost dropping it on the sidewalk in the process. He grunts, the instrument tilting in his arms, and you giggle as you hear Nia sigh once more. Tightening your arms around her, you release each other as she turns to check on her boyfriend who holds the instrument as you would a newborn — except this one is half his size and hard as a wood plank.

He glances between the both of you, helpless. “Uh, where does this go?”

“You can put it with the other big boxes upstairs, babe. We’ll take them Sunday.” Nia says, moving to close the trunk. She looks back at him, calling back in a sing-like voice before he disappears inside, “Thank you!”

You lean back against the car, a playful pout plumping your bottom lip. “Am I only seeing you again on Sunday, then?”

“Nope, I’ll pick you up for Evan’s birthday — did you forget about it already?”

You have. “Of course not. It’s on — tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow?” Nia gasps, eyes widening. “Holy shit, tomorrow’s Friday.”

You nod slowly, just as shocked as she is about how quickly the past couple of weeks have flown by. Between piles of book reports and stress-tear-stained essays during midterms week, you also had to find some time to help Nia with packing boxes while searching for a new roommate for yourself. If you managed a five-hour sleep on these past days, that would have been a well-rested night. So you can’t really blame yourself for forgetting about Evan’s birthday when Nia herself had it slipping through her mind.

“This is an emergency,” Nia says, eyes focusing on a point beyond you and, you feel like, if you listen close enough, you can hear the engines inside her head working. “I’ll have come here earlier so you can help me with my outfit.”

You chuckle. “What even is the theme this year?”

“He didn’t tell me,” Nia says in a huff. “But, on the bright side, I don’t think this year he’ll do anything too crazy — he was too busy these last couple months with that short film I told you about, remember?”

“Evan doing something low key? That’s a first.” You raise your eyebrows, skeptical.

“I mean, I don’t know. I’m just guessing.” Nia shrugs, picking at her nails. “I’m only saying because he mentioned once he was only inviting, like, twenty people.”

Now, this is a surprise. “I’m glad I made the cut, then.”

It’s not a secret to anyone who’s ever had any kind of interaction with Evan that he’s fond of the dramatics of life — his bright-colored outfits with mismatching patterns being the first example that comes to mind — and that reflects as well in his events. Especially when it comes to his birthday.

To be fair, you’ve only actually been to two birthday parties of his so far — considering the invitation usually finds you because he’s close to Nia and sees you as some sort of extension of her. Nevertheless, they were both impactful enough that left a clear impression of how much he enjoys celebrating himself. Last year in particular you remember quite well. It was what he called “Evaney” themed; being a mix of himself and his favorite artist: Britney Spears. And, while you and Nia showed up as one of at least fifteen different variations of the Baby One More Time schoolgirl outfit, Evan pulled a perfect match of the Oops! I Did It Again red bodysuit that he got one of his fashion student friends to tailor for him, as well as freshly dyed beach blonde hair to suit it. He even went as far as photoshopping pictures of himself on Britney’s body and had them printed on posters hung on every single room of the house. There were even custom-made cups and napkins with them — two of them that Nia stole at the end of the party still sit somewhere in your kitchen to this day.

Another particular thing you remember quite clearly was that there were enough people crowded in his living room to fill up your entire apartment, as you recall. And that’s about how a typical event at his home is like — even on his friendsmas dinner there were much more than just twenty people eating turkey out of disposable hot pink plates. So, Nia’s information leaves you wondering what he could have in mind for tomorrow with such a limited list of people.

Before you can voice your wonders to her, though, Nate pushes through the entrance door again. You can tell he, much like you minutes ago, is trying to cover his heavy breathing. “I left it on top of those big boxes with a bunch of books in ‘em.”

“Brilliant! Thank you, baby.” Nia grins, wrapping an arm around his middle. “By the way, we just remembered Evan’s birthday’s tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow already?” Nate asks, and you hold back a giggle at the way his face scrunches in discontent. He hates going to Evan’s to a point that’s nearly comical. “Fuck’s sake.”

“And I think I’ll come here early so we can get ready together.” Nia nods towards you.

Nate grunts. “Do I have to go this time?” 

“Of course, darling.” She rises to her tiptoes to pinch his cheek, to which he brushes it off.

Nate looks at you, and you only send him a tight smile in solidarity. The two of you share similar experiences with Evan, considering the only reason either of you even gets invited is that because you’re close to Nia, and she’s close to Evan. Although you like Evan, even if you’re not that close with him, you can still put on your social mask for a couple of hours and have fun at his parties. Nate, on the other hand, is likely the least sociable person you’ve ever met, and it’s obvious how uncomfortable he gets every time. 

Nia seems to sense how tense he gets as well, because she steps in front of her boyfriend, finding his eyes with her doe-like ones. “I mean, if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to.”

He sighs, “Of course I’ll go with you.” He looks up at you. “Maybe this time we can actually count how many faces of his we can see from the couch.”

This time you don’t hold back a giggle. “I have a feeling we’ll have an easier time this year.”

“Hope so.” Nate taps on Nia’s back. "Let's go, then? Is everything you need in the trunk?”

“Yup.” She answers, circling the car and opening the door to the passenger’s side. Before entering, she gives you one last look. “Do you want me to bring anything for you tomorrow?”

“I’m good.”

“‘kay!” She enters, closing the door behind her in a click and leaning over Nate to wave at you from his window. “See you tomorrow! Don’t cry too hard tonight!”

“I won’t!” You wave back.

Watching as the car pulls back, before driving away and disappearing around the corner, there’s a light breeze that raises goosebumps on the exposed skin of your arms. You cross them under your chest, leaning back into the wall of your building, not quite ready to go back to your empty home yet. The seconds blend into minutes and you stand there The promise you made to Nia not even a minute ago already pooling in your eye, knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep it anyway, you let it tickle its way down your cheek.

A rougher gust of wind hits you and, this time, you turn to go inside.

                                              ~*~ ~*~  ~*~

The days are still not long enough so that the sun can shine proudly at seven in the afternoon, but as spring just about rounds the corner there’s still a golden glow as the rays provide one last warmth before disappearing on the horizon. And that’s how the sky greets you once you step out of your building to make your way towards Evan’s house for his birthday.

As planned, Nia arrived at yours with plenty of time so the two of you could help each other get ready, a bag filled with clothes she’s just taken to Nate’s yesterday under her arm for you to help her choose. “I’m thinking something monochromatic tonight.” She said as she walked in, making you jump in your spot on the couch as you didn’t hear her using the spare key. “I’m just not sure what color.” 

She ended up choosing red. There was an old box of red hair dye you found lost inside the bathroom cabinet after Nia left — along with two different brands of shaving cream, although those belonging to Nate — and, after presenting it to her, she decided to go all for it, taking it as a sign. Nate showed up just about an hour after his girlfriend, still in his work attire and barely batting an eye at Nia’s new hair color as she blew dried it. The only comment leaving his mouth being, “You look like a tomato,” before kissing her forehead and excusing himself for a nap while the two of you finished getting ready.

What neither of you realized was that Nia’s last-minute decision took more time than you predicted, giving you barely enough time to get dressed. To her, that wasn’t exactly an inconvenience considering she had an outfit ready to match any color she wanted — in this case, was a red-dyed denim two-piece. and a matching jacket that ended up discarded after she noticed it covered her newest shoulder tattoo (though you tried to argue she could just have Nate carry it so she could wear it considering she eventually would get cold at some point). To you, however, was more of a stressful task, seeing you hadn’t taken in mind to think of an outfit beforehand. So you ended up just going with the safest option that didn’t give you a lot of room to overthink, choosing to finish your makeup on the way so Evan wouldn’t have any of your heads on a plate for being late.

You’ve found that applying mascara on a moving vehicle is not the easiest task, as Nia holds your elbow to help you keep steady while talking nonstop with the driver about a topic you stopped paying any mind to about ten minutes ago.

“I’m loving our black and red moment, by the way.” She turns to you, loosening her hold as you finish the last coat. “You look like one of those hot businesswomen with your teenage daughter who likes to dress like an animated character.”

You laugh at her comparison, only now noticing the discrepancy between both your outfits. Without even realizing it, you also ended up going for the monochromatic look. Except unlike Nia’s, yours completely lacks any color. “That’s actually the best comparison you could make.”

“I know — You can take a left right here — Here, I have lip gloss.” Nia fetches a small tube from her jacket (that she ended up taking, after all), presenting it to you.

“Do you not have lipstick?”

“Are you not planning on smudging it later?” Nia wiggles her eyebrows, teasing. The hint behind her words makes you roll your eyes, snatching the lip gloss from her hand without bothering to give her an answer. There was about a month or so, just before winter rolled around, that Nia felt as if she had a mission to get you with someone. You suspect, knowing too well how her mind works, that she must’ve felt some sort of guilt for what happened during her film project last year. It was clear that her attempts came from a place of good heart, but this doesn’t mean that it made them any less annoying. However, after her plans to move in with Nate became more concrete, her cupid persona seemed to have disappeared, or so you’d thought. But now that there’s nothing else filling her mind anymore, it looks like she’s back at it, and you can’t help but snort. “What? I’m just saying-”

“You say a lot of things, most of them are incorrect.” You say, “I’m not smudging anything tonight. Not on a party with twenty people, for fuck’s sake.”

“Don’t say that before — right there! The big house on the corner!” Nia leans over the console, signaling to the driver where to park. It’s so sudden that you notice how he jumps just slightly from his seat, chuckling to yourself at how Nate snaps his eyes at her. 

The front of Evan’s Victorian home is unusually quiet once you step out onto the sidewalk. So much so that, if it weren’t for the lined cars parked along the street and filling his driveway, you would’ve thought you’d typed in the wrong address. 

The discrepancy is clear to you when compared to other gatherings Evan hosts in his house, but especially for his birthday. Last year, you could hear Toxic blasting from his place from the moment you turned on his street, and a small crowd gathered on his front yard — most of which you recall being comprised of people plastered out of their minds, particularly one semi-naked man who was using one lamppost as a strip pole while swinging a stuffed snake

That’s more or less the standard one could expect when invited to a party at Evan’s. So, to find the street as silent as any regular day is, to an understanding, odd. 

“Are you sure it’s the right date?” You ask as the metal creak of the front gate mends with gushes of wind whistling through the air.

“Yup,” Nia says simply, walking in front of you. “You can hear the music inside, shush.”

You come quiet, listening in, and, surely, you can hear the faint keys of a piano coming from the other side of the stone walls, but it only brings up more questions to your head than answers. Evan seems like the last person on Earth who would listen to classical music. Deciding not to voice your question this time, you follow short behind Nia, kicking some loose stones on the gravel path leading to the front door.

There’s no need for more than a single knock for it to open almost immediately, revealing a lace-clad Evan downing the last bits of his wine. Without the barrier you can hear the music more clearly, the keys of the piano meshing in a peculiar way, not like anything you’ve ever heard in a classical song— at least not ten years ago when you tried to learn piano for a year before giving up.

“Look at my favorite people!” Evan says with his purple-stained lips, pulling Nia for a hug with the arm that’s not holding the door open while pointing at a spot behind her. “Did you greet Jonathan when you passed him? It’s his birthday as well.”

He points to a spot where a gnome statue sits in the dry grass, face painted in clown makeup. Nate’s voice comes from behind you, “Christ.” 

“Nate!” Evan chirps, going straight for the man standing with a sharp smile and throwing his arms around him. “You know you’re my favorite grumpy, right?”

Nate only taps on the shorter man’s back, quickly moving to Nia’s side as soon as he’s free from the embrace. With that, Evan turns to you, hands finding your elbows as he takes you in, “And what have you been up to, bug? It's been ages.”

“You know… Books and… Stuff.” You chuckle, brushing it off. “Happy birthday, E.”

“Thank you!” He claps his hands together. “Now, c’mon, let’s get all of you started.”

Following him inside, you’re met with a glittery box standing right next to the entrance; rolls of tape seal it shut, and a hand-sized hole has been cut on top of the lid. You try to peek at what could be inside, but strings of colorful crepe paper are stuck to the hole, making it harder to know its contents.

Evan picks up the box, holding it to his side. “So, I need each of you to grab a piece of paper inside the box. There will be a number in it but for now just hold on, drink, and chat while waiting for further instructions.” His voice lowers at the end to give his words more of a mystery behind them.

Nate tenses in front of you and you have to keep yourself from chuckling at his desperate gaze moving from the box to his girlfriend as he moves uncomfortably on his feet. Nia, however, only gives him a pat on his back, barely looking at her boyfriend as she does a little dance in excitement. “Oh, this feels fun.” She says, quickly reaching her hand inside the box and retrieving a piece of paper. “Mysterious, but fun. What do you have in mind, sir?”

“Nothing too crazy this year, darling, you can relax — We’re all too tired.” He moves the box towards Nate, who reluctantly reaches inside. “Just something to mesh people together that won’t give me too much of a headache to clean tomorrow.”

“Smart.” You say, peeking at the box as it’s presented to you before reaching for a paper inside, quickly reading the number eight written on it before folding the piece between your fingers.

“Nice! As always, drinks in the kitchen. We’re starting in ten minutes!” Evan claps, hushing the three of you further inside.

Surprisingly, this time around there are no posters of his face in sight as you follow Nia and Nate to the kitchen. There’s a mild mash of voices coming from the living room — where the sound of the piano is the loudest, and you wonder if he got an actual piano or if it’s just a Bluetooth speaker —, but it’s not nearly as loud as you’re used to from past times. The lighting has been lowered to a buttery yellow; you realize once you enter the kitchen that feels too bright to your eyes in contrast to the hallway.

“Is there any alcohol?” You wonder out loud, and Nia glances at you with her eyebrows shot towards her hairline. “What? I’m just asking ‘cause everyone is unusually quiet.”

“There’s wine and — what are these guys right here?” She picks up one out of four plastic jars sitting on the kitchen island, reading the label stuck to it out loud, “Strawberry Mary — ooh, this looks fun.”

You reach for the other three to check their contents, but all have names similar to the one Nia now fills her cup with — fruity, yet mysterious: Lana Banana, Jenny Berry Mix, and Pineapple Suzan. “Did he come up with these?” You chuckle, reaching for the berry mix.

“It was probably Adam,” Nia says, and you frown. “That bartender guy? The one with the pet snakes.”

“Oh, yeah. I know him.”

The room comes quiet as you serve yourself, and only after you glance up you realize a tension lingering in the air. Nate stands awkwardly in a corner, eyes fixed on Nia as he moves his head around subtly. Glancing between the two of them, you notice how their expressions change as they keep their eyes locked, not a single word being uttered out loud. To you, it almost feels as if they are reading each other’s minds, and the heat of their silent argument becoming clear once Nate huffs, shaking his head. 

Nia clears her throat, seemingly uncomfortable, shooting you a knowing look. It’s only when she gives you a toothless smile that you realize the silent question behind it. “Uhm, I’m going to check if there are any sweets outside.”

Beelining towards the doorway, you quickly make your way out of the room. The hallway is empty and, from where you stand awkwardly in the middle of it, you can tell Evan’s left his spot by the front door, meaning he’s likely gone to the living room where the rest of the guests are. You can hear them chatting, although like you previously pointed, the voices are much more controlled than what you’re used to, and that makes you oddly flustered by the thought of walking in alone. 

Considering the limited amount of invitations this year, the chances of you knowing anyone are slim and, to add to your sudden nervousness, most of the people from Evan’s closest circle of friends are — like himself — inexplicably intimidating. This is mostly because it feels like this unspoken competition that everyone has settled with each other, to subtly brag about your success whilst simultaneously pretending to be impressed about the other’s accomplishments. And for you specifically, considering you’re not part of this artist clique that they lock themselves into, it feels particularly tiresome to be part of those interactions. 

So, you opt to wait for Nia, pretending to admire one peculiar painting hanging on a wall opposite to where the doorway leading to the living room stands. Every so often, you catch yourself glancing over your shoulder one way or the other, either towards the kitchen to check if your friends are joining you, or to the doorway where the rest of the guests are in. At one point, the voices get louder, joining in a laugh before tangling together in a mess of noise you can’t make sense of. It’s after a minute that you hear footsteps coming from the living room, making you freeze on your spot, carefully turning your back to whoever’s about to catch you avoiding the party, and focusing on the piece you’ve been staring at for the past five minutes.

The painting you first thought was just random strokes of earth tones abstractly put together you now realize it’s a man and it doesn’t take you more than a second or two to recognize Evan’s side profile in a peach shade. Your hand claps on top of your mouth as you fight the urge to laugh. The sound comes out muffled, but it stops as you hear the footsteps falter as they turn into the hallway. Keeping you back to them, you listen as the wooden floor creaks as whoever was approaching makes their way back. You peek to catch sight of who it might be, but all you make out is the shadow of mustard corduroys turning the corner.

As if on cue, Nia and Nate finally appear from the kitchen, thankfully neither appearing to be sour after the talk in the kitchen. 

“Finally.” You say, still feeling giggly from your finding. “Nate, you have to check this-”

“Okay! Let’s start, then. Do we have everyone in the living room?” Evan’s voice interrupts you as he calls out. Nia guides you along with her to the living room. And, as soon as the three of you enter, Evan nods at you, before continuing, “Now that all the bunnies are trapped, we shall begin!” He laughs, clapping his hands together before motioning vaguely to everyone. “Before I explain what I have planned, I want to pair you all. So, I’ll call out the numbers that each of you picked when you arrived, so everyone can find their pair.”

You frown, confuse yet curious about what Evan’s up to as he calls out the numbers. Now that you stop to glance around the room, you note how there are more people than you’d expected. It’s still not nearly as many as previous parties of his, but it still feels like the room is nicely filled, maybe just a dozen people above twenty. And amongst them, there’s quite a few you recognize as they pair up together — like Georgia, the first one to be called, whom you spent a good half of the New Year’s party with, or Taylor, who gets paired with Nia (you remember him particularly from a film festival that Nia had been part of — he produced and directed a short film comparing the second wave of feminism to the wildlife in the Amazon Rainforest, and Nia couldn’t stop complaining about how bad it was for the entire week after). 

It’s when Evan jokes with someone on the other side of the room, however, that you see him.

He’s tucked in a corner, right next to the bookshelves, arms crossed under his chest in a way that makes his tattoos pop out of his biceps, something you notice even standing on the opposite end of the room. His smile is subtle as he watches the scene in front of him, but it’s still enough for a dimple to poke at one side of his face -- it’s barely there, but you’ve seen it up close enough times that you notice those details. His hand holds a drink, but you pay no mind to it because what calls your attention is the mustard corduroy hugging his hips, the same one you watched run from you not only five minutes ago.

He laughs, and you avert your eyes, mouth still hung open. You wonder if anyone will notice if you leave.

But, as though he could read your mind, Evan calls the number written on that sits crumbled inside the pocket of your jacket. “Where are my number eights?”

You step forward and, like a magnet, your eyes glue on Harry as he raises his hand. 

Shaking your head in disbelief, you have to fight against an urge to shut your eyes tightly as the regret of having left your room at all tonight becomes almost overwhelming. All you expected for the night was to forget about book reports and endless essays piled up on your computer, to relax, maybe drink a bit more than you should while watching Evan’s friends dancing with a taxidermy beaver or something of sorts (that was on his friendsmas party two years ago). Instead, here you are on what feels like the first day of class dynamic your teacher has imposed to make everyone interact with each other. And, suddenly, the long pages of (insert boring book) don’t seem that bad right now.

And to make matters worse (because the universe just likes to add a little more spice to your tragedies) of all people standing in this living room you just had to be paired with the one with whom you had a fling-like relationship six months ago.

It’s awkward before he even approaches you, the tension making you fidget in your spot anxiously, barely being able to shoot a tight smile his way. 

The last time you saw Harry was through the rearview mirror of a car, standing on the sidewalk like an abandoned puppy with his tail between his legs. Though you admit you let your dramatics take away when you turned away from him to leave, the feeling behind it was genuine. You were upset. He had led you on, after all, made you think he wanted to have something more just to ignore you for months and, later, appear with a redhead under his arms and call her his girlfriend. So, yes, it wasn’t the best note to leave on.

But despite how you left the last encounter, the spark of nervousness that shoots through your stomachs right now doesn’t come exactly because of his presence, but more so for the awkward nature of this encounter. At the time it happened, you avoided any activity that had the slight possibility of seeing him again like the plague. You were hurt, and you were mad — though the second part was more directed at yourself than at him. But that was six months ago. After all, as much as you felt enchanted by him and as much as those two weeks you spent together were nice, that’s all that it was: two weeks. Yes, you were sad and, yes, maybe you shed a tear or two while watching Love, Rosie with Nia afterward, but that passed as quickly as it came.

That is, until now.

“Your hair is shorter” This Is all you blurt out when he stands in front of you again.

“It is, yeah.” Harry runs his hand through his hair. The strands that last time you saw him, curled around his jawline, now peek just under his earlobe. “Did it myself, actually.”

“Really?” You take a big gulp from your drink, gaze going anywhere but meeting his own. “Found yourself another talent.”

“Another?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“I mean, besides acting.” You grin, holding the cup to your lips and sparing him a glance. “Suppose after your debut you’ve gotten yourself busy with casting calls”

“Of course” Harry laughs. Now that you’re closer you have a better look at his dimples as they pop out, as well as the constellation of freckles hugging his nose, and the mole right under his lips. You avert your eyes again. “I’m set to be the next Bond, in fact”

“Oh, wow.” You raise your brows, grinning at the brim of your cup. “I can see it.”

He turns to you, “Can you?” You peek at him. "Why is that?”

This is exactly what you were afraid of all those months ago after last seeing him. The entire reason you ran from any possibility of seeing him again afterward. You can still remember clearly how much of a flirt he is, even when he doesn’t mean to be. It’s not a secret that Harry’s a charming man. His words are like honey, and when he uses them just right, you know is enough to have you melting. And it doesn’t help how well you seem to click together. Even now, you still feel it by your impulse to flirt back, to look him in the eye, and get just close enough to feel the scent of his cologne. Do all that just to turn away in the last second. Tease him the same way he did you. But you don’t do any of that, of course, because you’re as petty as you are bitter. So, instead, you click your tongue. “Don’t get too comfortable, Harry, bet your girlfriend wouldn’t be happy about that.”

He chuckles. “What girlfriend?”

This time you turn fully at him, brows shooting up not in defiance, but surprise. “Yikes.” You say before you’re able to hold back.

“Yikes.” Harry still holds a smile when he repeats it, head falling as he lets out a — nervous? — laugh.

A question pops into your head. One that lingered in your mind for a good while now, but comes back a bit louder now that you have the information that his relationship was short-lasted after all. It’s a short one, but one that requires a long answer, you suppose. What happened? You think. But you don’t dare to voice it, you don’t want to have this conversation with him. Whatever the explanation is, it’s not going to change anything. So you just avert your gaze back to Evan, who now calls for everyone’s attention again.

“I know you’re all dying to know what this is all about. So, I’m going to explain it all.” And with that introduction, Evan dives into a monologue you only pay half mind to. It’s hard for you to focus on the words rapidly leaving his mouth as you can feel Harry glancing at you every so often from the corner of your eye. You listen in to Evan describing himself as a feisty kid and mention his love for drama, and then you feel the ghost of Harry’s arm bumping against yours as he sways on his feet. You try to pay attention to the story being told of the events leading up to this birthday party, and then you have to hold yourself back from meeting Harry’s eyes once you feel them at the side of your face once again. He makes a comment under his breath that you don’t quite catch, and you’re about to question him before Evan’s voice comes in an even higher pitch. “I wanted tonight to be exactly that: chaotic. I didn’t want anything to quite make sense, and I didn’t want to think much, if I’m honest, last year of film school is taking a big chunk of my functioning neurons and m’dad’s whiskey collection is taking the rest of them.”

There’s a collective laugh that takes place and, once again, Harry’s eyes peeking at you. “Everyone can relax, it’s not one of those murder mystery parties, as I’ve heard some people guess — for fuck’s sake as if I have the time and patience to plan something like that.” He says with a sip directly from a wine bottle you just now realize he’s been holding. “It’s a scavenger hunt, you have a partner and an envelope with clues. Each pair will find something related to moi and after it’s all done, we’ll eat burgers and talk about me for the rest of the night.” 

“Sounds easy enough.” Harry mumbles.

Evan claps his free hand on his wrist, hushing everyone. “So off you go, c’mon! I’ll be hungry in an hour.”

“This is gonna be…” You start. “Interesting.”

“Interesting is a great word to describe it.”

“Well, let’s try to do this as quickly as possible, then.” 

 The side of his lips quirks up. “On a rush?”

“This is not exactly a comfortable position to be. I think you get it.” You say, fidgeting on your feet. You wait for a second for him to say something so you can start the activity, but he doesn’t and you realize there’s a piece missing. “Do you have an envelope?”

Harry nods, reaching for his pocket where the envelope sits folded in half. He swiftly opens it, taking out a card.

 “Well?” You prompt, “Read us the first clue, Bond.”

There’s a smile that Harry fights against at the nickname and you’re not sure due to the dim light, but you think there’s a hint of a rosy tone on the apple of his cheeks. “An activity that grows lives and ruins manicures.” He reads out loud, pausing for a moment before laughing to himself. “I know this one.”

“Grows lives?” You frown. “As in, a pregnancy?”

Harry shakes his head, leading the way towards the corridor. “As in, gardening.”

“That’s a very weird way to put it.” You say, following him. “Does he garden?”

He walks into the kitchen, greeting two people you don’t recognize who are searching for something — their clue, you assume — inside the cabinets. “No, but his sister does. There’s a greenhouse in the back.”

You simply hum in response, muttering a quick thank you as he opens the door for you that leads to the back garden. The greenhouse is not unfamiliar to you from the outside, there have been a good amount of summer gatherings in his back garden for you to know of its existence. But you’ve thought nothing more about it. If you’re honest, you never really paid much attention to it. If anything, you assumed he used it as storage at most, never taking Evan as someone who enjoyed gardening. Though now you know you were right, you've also learned that his sister lives with him and you wonder why he’s never mentioned it before.

The curiosity inside of you wants to question Harry about it, to ask him what else he knows you don’t. When you think about it, there’s a lot you want to ask him about. Not just regarding Evan, but also regarding him. You wonder what he’s been up in the past six months if he ended up adopting the kitten he’d told you about back when you were still filming or if he read any of the book recommendations you wrote on his notes app one particular night the two of you chatted for longer than the moon could hold itself up in the sky. The part of you that begs for you to say something on the short walk is so strong you have to physically bite your tongue to be able to hold back.

You don’t have to hold for long, however, as Harry takes it upon himself to say, “So,” He starts, clearing his throat, “How- uh- how are you doing?”

Somehow, his words click something inside of your mind. They remind you of why you shouldn’t let that curious part of you win. The sole purpose of it not falling for his charm. You shake your head, “We’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He frowns, his steps faltering for a second.

“Small talk.” You answer, focused on your goal. “We’ll just solve this thing as quickly as possible so I can go back home and finish my Euphoria marathon.”

“Right.” Harry nods once, and you can’t help but notice the way his lips quirk down, the frown not leaving his face. You can’t lie and say it doesn’t make your stomach drop the slightest bit to see you’ve upset him, but you have to remind yourself how much he’s upset you, too. 

It’s protecting yourself, you think. After tonight, you don’t have to see him ever again.

Inside the greenhouse, you’re greeted with a mix of scents you’re not prepared for before stepping in. The space is compact, with a single corridor narrowed with garden beds on each side. Dozens of branches and leaves tickle you as you walk in, most of them belonging to different flowers that, despite the chilly weather that still lingers outside, are already blooming. It’s a blend of colors, bright reds, and ocean blues, soft purple petals kissing pink and yellow ones. 

“We should look for gloves.” Harry’s voice startles you, chuckling as you jump a bit.

“Huh?” 

“Gloves.” He says. “I think whatever we’re looking for has to do with the gloves, ‘cause he mentioned manicure.”

“That makes sense.” You look around. Many gardening tools are piling under the tables that hold the garden beds; watering cans and empty pots. You look between bags of fertilizer and drawers filled with shovels. There’s so much stuff to look through that, at one point, you sit back on your calves, glancing around, lost.

You hear Harry leafing through as you’re doing, feeling his legs brushing against your back as he passes by and you stop, watching him from your spot on the floor. He’s got a concentrated look on his face, bottom lip worried between his teeth as he scans through the walls before he opens another drawer. That’s when his gaze falls, catching yours. You quickly turn away, pretending to go through another pile of empty pots and blocking the sound of a chuckle coming from his spot.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the clicking of ceramics and the opening and closing of wooden drawers. That is until you hear from Harry, “A-ha!”

You look up again, seeing him move to the back where few pairs of gloves hang on the wall — so obvious yet still hidden between raincoats and summer hats. “Right under our noses.” You say, getting up.

Harry searches inside the gloves, tongue trapped between his teeth. “Bingo!” He says, pulling out two tiny bottles from inside one pair.

“What is it?”

“Liquor.” He grins, peeking at you from under his lashes before ripping a piece of paper attached to it. “It says ‘one for each, now get to clue number two.’” He holds up one bottle, offering it to you, to which you take it. “It’s chocolate flavored.”

“Of course it would be a drinking game.” You open it, feeling the artificial chocolate scent braid with the alcohol. “Christ.”

“Don’t smell it, or it’ll be worse,” Harry says, downing his with one quick tilt of his head. “‘S not that bad, actually.”

You mimic his action, letting the drink swiftly burn its way down your throat. Unlike Harry, you can’t help but scrunch your nose at the taste. “You’re a fucking liar.”

Harry only giggles in response, taking the empty bottle from you and placing it back inside the gloves, along with his own. 

And then again, silence. You turn to the flowers to find some comfort.

A family of tulips glances back at you, their petals in a full red, it’s the kind of beauty you’re scared to ruin if you touch, so you just rest your hand on the wood. “They’re beautiful.” You only notice you say it out loud when Harry hums back in agreement.

“They are.” He says quietly but somehow feels loud by how close he is. “Tulips are my favorites.”

You stop, brows raising incredulously at him. “No, they’re not.”

“What?”

Cursing the universe for playing with you like this, you can’t help but laugh at the situation. “It’s just- they’re my favorites, too.” You look at him. “My nan used to plant them when I was little.”

“That’s sweet.” He says, smiling and you nod. “The red ones represent true love.” He points. “And the purple ones represent royalty.”

You blink at him. “Do you just look up tulip facts in your free time?”

Harry laughs. “Yeah, basically.” He looks down at you, and you can’t help but notice how the greenery around brings out the shade of his eyes. “I worked at a flower shop for a tick.”

“Really?”

He nods. “For eight months. My favorite part was writing on the store board every morning.” His face lights up as he recalls his experience. “I used to write silly stuff like, ‘one day I’d like to meet tulips.’ The old ladies loved it.”

You shake your head, breathing out a laugh. “You’re dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Why’s that?”

Because you’re sweet, you want to answer, because when I think I won’t get charmed by you again, you hit me with tulip puns. Your lip finds its spot between your teeth, you’d be damned to give him the satisfaction of hearing you tell him that, so, instead, you shrug. “Because.” You can tell he wants to dig more by the way his lip twitch up, teasing a smile, but you just nod towards the door before turning away from him and heading out. 

There’s a distinct change of temperature when you step outside, and it’s only when you do that you notice the greenhouse was heated. Thankfully, the night is not too windy as it would get a week or two ago when winter was still insisting on making itself present, but it’s still chilly so that it makes you hug your jacket closer to your body. Harry also notices the difference, as you hear him wince as he steps out from behind you — unlike you, he’s not wearing anything to protect his arms from the cold, which only makes it harder for you to not ogle the tattoos hugging his skin.

“So, what’s next?” You prompt.

Harry reaches for the card again, taking it from its spot on his pocket before reading the second clue. “‘Not feeling too creative to write this one, it’s on the third tree on oak.’”

“I mean, at least we don’t have to think too much on this one.” You say, “Oak Street is the one to the left, right?”

“Yeah.” Harry sighs. “Can’t believe he’s making us go out on the streets.”

You start to make your way back towards the house. “Too tired for a stroll?”

“‘S cold,” Harry says, scrunching his nose. “Here, there’s a side gate.”

He guides you through a gravel path to where the black gate stands, hidden between bushes and branches. Strings of fern hug the bricked fence and the surrounding grass is high enough that it tickles your calves through your tights, making you believe this path has probably been left unused for at least a couple of months now. This information brings out an extra worry for you, as you take a better look at it, noticing how the gate is closed shut to the fence.“Is it open?” You wonder out loud.

“Shit, I don’t think it is.” Harry huffs under his breath. “But, I mean, we could easily jump it.”

You stop, turning to glance at him as the suggestion leaves his lips. He stands there, hands on his hips, examining the gate, tongue poking out as he frowns. After a second, he meets your eyes. “What? It’s not that tall.”

“I suppose.” You say, looking back at the fence that ends just below your shoulder length. It would be easy enough for you to climb it with a boost, however, “I’m wearing a dress.”

“Oh,” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “Let’s just go inside-” He turns back.

“Wait,” You stop him, not sure if it’s the slight amount of alcohol in your system already making you more adventurous, you train your gaze at the gate, analyzing it again, before looking back at him. Squinting your eyes, “You have to close your eyes.”

He laughs, “Are you sure?”

“It’s not that high.” You shrug. “But I need your help.”

“Of course.” He moves next to the brick wall, kneeling before it and nodding towards you. “C’mon, step up.”

Hesitantly, you glance at his thigh stretching his trousers, a sudden wave of insecurity hitting you. “Are you sure you can lift me?”

Harry simply puts his hand out in a silent request for you to hold. “Of course.”

“No peeking.”

He shuts his eyes tightly, chin meeting his chest as he looks down. And then you take his hand, feeling his fingers lock in a firm hold as he helps you use him for support. You hesitate again before using his thigh as a step, “Wait, I’m gonna ruin your trousers.” You worry, but Harry only shakes his head, still keeping it facing the ground, the strands of his hair falling above his eyes in a makeshift blindfold. When he doesn't feel you stepping in still, he encourages you with a squeeze in your hand. 

You attempt to do as quickly as possible with your dress clinging to your legs, tightening your hold to Harry’s hand to step on his thigh. Once you let it go, you can still feel it lingering behind your back as you use your arms to boost yourself up the wall, sitting on it for a moment before jumping to the other side with a huff.

“Can I open them?” You hear Harry’s voice calls from the other side, and you smile, nodding even though he can’t see it.

“Yes!”

And then his face appears as he stands up in a jump, grinning at you. “See? Easy Peasy.”

“I feel like a teen sneaking out.” You say, and you instantly give another meaning to your words as Harry boosts himself up. This time, you certainly don’t hold yourself back from staring at the way his muscles flex at the movement, the tattoos on his arms stretching, and his shirt rolling up. He makes it look so easy, so effortless, barely taking five seconds until he’s jumping in front of you.

“That was fun.” He puffs, patting his trousers lightly.

“So, how are we finding the tree?” You ask, taking a quick glance to where his hands brush on the fabric of his trousers. “Should we read the clue again?”

“I know which one he’s talking about,” Harry says, nodding to the left before beginning his stride in that direction. You follow him, trusting his words as the two of you turn the corner where Evan’s house is located. 

The street in question is much calmer than the one you were just in, with no cars coming or going from the residences — that stand much closer to one another, you notice, giving the whole street more of a narrow feeling to it --, which is not exactly odd, but certainly is a contrast with the main street that Evan’s home faces, that one being more lively with people either coming home or leaving it to enjoy their Friday night. The sudden lack of background noise makes the walk to your destination a tad awkward, as none of you make an effort to strike a conversation. Instead, you resort to silently observing the surrounding area as you walk alongside Harry, noticing how the trees here bend over the sidewalk, their naked branches slowly but surely growing back the leaves they lost months ago — it makes you wonder how beautiful this must look during the peak of springtime, their full branches blending together, making a ceiling of flowers.

“Here.” Harry stops abruptly, making you almost bump into his shoulder, as you were too busy with the scenery you’ve made in your own head. “‘S this one.”

“I thought it said the third one.” You frown, looking back and noticing the way you’ve passed way more than just three.

“This one is the third.” He says, motioning to a small birdhouse stuck to its trunk with a number ‘3’ painted to the front in blue. “It’s a bit of an inside joke,” Harry chuckles to himself. “Now I get why the bastard wanted me to have this card.”

You look closer at the tree, trying to see if there’s something attached to it besides the birdhouse, but there’s nothing. Before you can question it, Harry opens the front of the tiny house, retrieving two tiny bottles from inside of it, similar to the ones you found in the greenhouse.  “Oh, no.” You say, laughing. “Did he just put liquor inside a stranger’s birdhouse?”

Harry shakes his head, “This is not a stranger’s birdhouse.”

“Huh?” You frown, glancing back to the house where you stand in front of, its front completely dark, showing that no one must be at home. You point to it over your shoulder. “Do you know who lives here?”

“Yeah,” He starts, offering you one bottle. “I do.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise, glancing back and forth from the house to the man standing in front of you, an amusing grin growing on his face. “You live here?” You ask, “This is your birdhouse?”

“It is, yeah. In fact, I was the one who built it.” He gives the birdhouse a small pat.

You can’t help but let your mouth hang open for a second. “That’s-” You pause, not sure which word to use. Impressive? Amazing? Hot? “That’s nice.”

Harry smiles, and the two of you stand there for a moment, admiring his work in silence. You suck your bottom lip in, keeping yourself from inquiring further. 

Being presented with how little you know about Harry only peaks at your curiosity at what had happened last year in your brief experience with him. When you were with him it felt as if you’d known him for months rather than weeks, but looking back at it now, you wonder if your infatuation fooled you into thinking the two of you were close. Maybe that’s why you were so upset at the premiere after all because all that did was prove to you how much you didn’t know him at all. No matter how many sleepless nights you spent together sharing bits of your lives, it wasn’t enough for you to get to know him.

It’s only when a car turns into the street that you break away from your thoughts, looking up at him and clearing your throat. “We should take this back to Evan’s.” You say. “I’m not sure how it would look from an outsider’s point of view to see us downing these tiny bottles in the middle of the street.”

“You’re right,” Harry says. “Should we read the last clue while we’re at it?”

“Sure, yeah.”

He reaches for the card inside his pocket, presenting it to you. “You do the honors this time.”

You take the card, brushing your thumb over the words before stopping for a second to read them out loud, “You’ll find your prize behind the words of buried legends.” You snort. “That’s so corny.”

“Words of buried legends,” Harry repeats, letting out a hum. “Bet he was feeling quite poetic when he wrote this one.”

“Maybe because it has to do with poems.” You peek at him, a slight raise to your eyebrow. “‘Words of buried legends’? like dead poets and stuff?” Upon reading it again to make sure, you mumble, “He really made this card especially for you, huh?”

“Makes sense.” Harry agrees before nudging you playfully with his arm. “Look at you with your literary mind!”

“Could’ve used some better wording but I’ll let it pass.” You giggle, shrugging as you hand him back the card. As you do so, you notice there’s something written on the other side. “What’s in the back?”

Harry’s brows meet. “Huh?”

“In the back of the card, something’s written on it.” You nod towards his hand as he’s about to pocket the card again. 

Harry turns it around, reading it with a chuckle. “Ice breakers.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Your mouth drops open in amusement. “Well? Go on, then. Break the ice.”

Harry makes a show of clearing his throat before reading the question as an announcement, “What celebrity do you think you could pull on your best day?”

“Is this the actual question?” You squint your eyes at him and he turns the card to allow you to read it as well. Surely, the same question reads right on top of it and, as you take a glance at the ones below it, they’re not that much better. You shake your head, “God, I have no idea.”

“I know mine.”

“You didn’t give a single thought on that one.” You say. “This should be good.”

“Jennifer Aniston.”

“Jennifer Aniston?” You stop on your tracks, raising your brows at him. “You know she was married to Brad Pitt, right?”

“Ouch.” Harry makes the theatrics of putting a hand on his heart, head falling dramatically to the side. “Right where it hurts.”

“I’m not saying you’re bad-looking, but he’s Brad Pitt.” You emphasize with a laugh, pushing him playfully as you keep walking. “Like he is the male beauty standard. Personified.”

The front of Evan’s feels more vivid than it was when you first walked in hours ago, the lights inside seeming lighter and the curtains having been pulled back, showing people wandering around on the inside. You walk past another pair crouched in front of the bushes that line next to the front gate that creaks as you open it.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Sure, let’s hear yours, then, sweetheart.”

“Ew, don’t ever call me that again.” Your nose scrunches and your face grows hot, but you attempt to shake it off, stopping to think of the question. “Huh, on my best day? I think… I don’t know, maybe Drake?”

“Oh, no!” Harry’s hands cover his face as he shakes his head into them. “I feel like that’s the most basic answer anyone could ever give to this question.”

You gasp. “Did you just call me basic?”

Harry holds the front door open for you and, before he’s able to give you an answer, you bump right into Nia. She instantly blurts out your name, as if she’s been expecting you to appear. “I’ve been looking for you!” She says, sparing Harry a glance over your shoulder before pulling you slightly to the side. “Do you think we could talk for a second?”

“Sure.” You hold out the word, looking at Harry before focusing on your friend again. “Did something happen?”

“No, no, nothing happened. Just—” Nia starts, locking your arms as she guides you back outside, pulling you to a corner a few steps away from the front door. “How are you? How's it going?”

“I’m fine. Why?” Your brows knit together at her interference and you wonder if it has anything to do with her conversation with Nate.

“I’m talking about-” She looks over her shoulder, clearly checking if anyone is listening in. Even after making sure that there’s no one there, she still lowers her voice. “When I saw he was your pair, I wanted to rescue you right away, but fucking Taylor pulled me with him and I didn’t get the chance.”

Oh. “Oh.”

“Is it too awkward?” She keeps her inquiry, holding your hand close to her chest. “We could ask them to switch so we can do the rest together, I’m sure Evan’s too plastered to notice.”

“Nia, I-” You smile as you come to realize that she pulled you aside just to check if you’re uncomfortable, having witnessed first-hand your whines and cries over Harry last year. “It’s okay, really. It’s not that bad, surprisingly.”

“Really?” Nia blinks, taken aback. “I- What happened?”

“Nothing.” You reassure her with a squeeze on her hand. “We’re just chatting, it’s not that awkward.”

“Okay.” She nods and nods, before falling serious again. “But if anything happens you just have to scream for me and I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Okay.” You say, pulling her for a brief hug. “Thanks, Ni.”

The two of you return inside just as Taylor brings up his brother’s hair sculpture collection that’s being exhibited at a local gallery — a subject you already have been the victim of hearing for about an hour during New Year’s and, by Harry’s face, he seems as helpless as you did back then. Nia doesn’t waste a second before pulling her pair away, “Let’s go, pal, those clues won’t solve themselves,” she shoots you a look over her shoulder, pushing Taylor towards the living room and you chuckle.

“He really is one of a kind, that man,” Harry says with a sigh before meeting your gaze. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just lady talk.” You brush aside. “Let’s find those poets, shall we?”

“We shall.” Harry smiles, looking around for a second before guiding you down the hallway, turning just before entering the kitchen where a staircase. This is a way that — like the greenhouse — you’ve never been to. Still, Harry navigates so casually as if it were his own home and, to some degree, you suppose it is. You follow him up the first flight of steps, stopping just before turning into the next one where a door you never really noticed before stands. Harry rests his hand on the handle, turning to you before saying, “There’s an office hidden right here.”

You watch as he opens it, motioning for you to walk in first. And, indeed, the inside of it is an office, just a bit smaller than the living room on the opposite side of the house. Two bookcases that go from the floor to the ceiling mostly covered the wall, only leaving a single space in the middle for a dark wooden cabinet. In front of it, an L-shaped desk takes up the middle of the room, most of it is filled with files and paper stacks, as well as two computers lying asleep. For a moment, you just stand by the doorway, admiring this room you’ve never known of its existence, your eyes quickly sweeping through the bookshelves completely packed with dark cover books of all sorts. “Do you think this is where it could be?”

“Probably, yeah.” Harry nods, turning on the lights. “I don’t know where else he could have any poetry hidden.”

You move towards one bookshelf, the one closest to the door, reaching to brush your finger through the spines perfectly lined. “But look at the size of these, we’ll take forever to find anything in here.”

“Those big ones are mostly law books, I think,” Harry says, opening cabinets at the other side of the room, right next to where a white couch stands. He turns to look at you, “His sister’s a lawyer, this is her office.” Harry says, “But Evan’s got a corner right here where he keeps some of his stuff— like books of sorts. It’s the only place I could think of.”

You hum, not knowing exactly what to respond to this information.

“You can go through the ones on that side, it could be there as well.” Harry nods towards a cabinet right next to the door where you came from, and you nod.

The first two cabinets are of no luck, both being mostly filled with boxes full of children’s books and old toys — some of them mixed with more stacks of paper, but those, instead of having long texts, have drawings of all kinds from what you could gather in a glance, from child-like scribbles to actual sketches. You can hear Harry going through drawers on the other side of the room and, upon closing another empty cabinet, you peek at him, watching his broad back flexing under his shirt as he moves around. Averting your eyes as swiftly as you looked, it’s still enough to bring warmth to your cheeks.

Finally, you open the cabinet at the very bottom of the shelf. On the top, there are piles of DVDs, most being different variations of Barbie movies, but, right at the bottom, you find books. You don’t stop to check their genre at first, simply moving them away until you stumble upon a small box, the top of it marked with the word ‘prize’. “Found it!” You call back, taking the box away from the pile before setting the books back in place again. “Under Rupi Kaur? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure she’s very alive.”

“Don’t tell Evan that,” Harry says as he crouches next to you, taking the box from your hands. Inside, there are, as expected, two tiny bottles like the ones you found before but, what calls both your attention, is a small bag of sweets lying in the middle. Harry takes it, “Oh, those are nice.”

He hands it to you and you open it, quickly shoving a jelly candy into your mouth before nodding. “Yeah.”

“So…” Harry starts, peeking over his shoulder, “Do you want to go back there?”

You glance at him, his eyes hovering above yours, lips twitching up just barely. “Uh… Maybe not right now.” You answer, “Unless you feel like sharing our Jellies with other people.”

Harry only laughs, shaking his head as he sits back and you do so too, right next to him. He reaches for his pocket, presenting another tiny bottle, the one you found inside his birdhouse, “We still got these.” 

“Right!” You fetch your own out of the pocket of your jacket.

Harry opens his, holding it up towards you. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” You say, mimicking him.

Both of you down your drinks, the liquid tasting bitter, like medicine on your tongue, the only reminder of alcohol being the burn as it slides down your throat. You rest your head back on the cabinet behind you as the two of you fall into silence once more. A part of your mind is already beginning to swim around the space inside your head, and you decide to not take the last drink just yet, laying it next to your leg. Though you’ve only had the equivalent of two shots, you realize the long break you’ve had from drinking for the past couple of months -- which wasn’t exactly an intentional choice, but more like the result of your lack of free time -- is showing itself to have been enough to make you more of a lightweight. 

And even though the night so far has been strikingly surprising in terms of how comfortable you felt being around Harry again, it doesn’t mean the questions you’ve been carrying since last year have gotten any quieter. They’ve only gotten louder. More persistent, even. The curiosity you feel to know what happened is almost suffocating now. And you’d be damned if you let a drunken mind stop you from having this conversation.

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, only watching the back of his head bobbing along with the music -- still the piano -- that comes faintly from behind the closed door. Your lips part, feeling the question form right at the tip of your tongue, but not knowing how to voice the words. Will it be awkward? You think so, but what if it ruins the night? Tonight, that’s been so oddly refreshing. A night that only served to remind you how you became so infatuated with him in the first place.

But you know you won’t be able to let go of this ich inside your head unless you bring it up. And you want to, you do, but as you take too long to think of the right way to do so, Harry decides to break the silence, murmuring next to you, “That’s a good one.”

Your brows knit together, trying to make out any trace of familiarity within the song that’s playing, but you don't find any, which only leaves you even more confused.  “Do you like classical?”

“Love,” Harry says simply, his eyes closed as he moves his head with the piano keys. “Especially this one. One of the greatest works from one of the greatest contemporary composers: Billie Eilish.”

Your lips fall open, “Shut up. Is she playing this?”

Harry laughs, a full one, that brings a grin to poke at your lips. “I mean, as far as I’m aware, no. It’s a version of her song — listen in.” He points to his ear, nodding with the melody as he sings along, “So you’re a tough guy, like it really rough guy.”

You shake your head incredulously, “Of course he’s playing classical versions of pop songs!” 

“Did you really think Evan had a taste for Chopin or Debussy?” Harry asks both dimples poking on his cheeks.

“I think at this point I’d believe anything you tell me about him.”

Both of you laugh, the air surrounding you light and warm, before falling quiet again. This time, however, you simply stare at each other for a beat. You watch his eyes, with their almost hypnotizing jade shade, glancing between your own. He rolls his lip between his teeth, nibbling at it. This is the closest you’ve been to him all night, and the details on his face only feel like a reminder of your doubts. Like the nostalgia you feel with a bittersweet memory.

“Should we-“ You stop, the words falling from your lips before you can think about them. “Should we talk about the elephant in the room?”

You half expect Harry to frown, to play dumb, and question you the meaning behind your words. For a second, you even expect him to shake his head, to get up and leave the room. And, for some reason, you kinda want him to do so. To finally break the mask of the nice, sweet guy he’s been putting on all night and allow himself to play the role of cold prick you put him on for the past months. 

But he doesn’t do it. He only gives you a short smile. “I was thinking about how to bring it up.” Harry’s gaze falls to his lap for a beat as he scratches his nose. “We should, yeah.”

You nod, more to yourself than to him. This is it. The moment to ask what you’ve been waiting for for six months now. You decide not to think much anymore, allowing the question to roll freely, “I don’t really know how to word this better but- pardon my French- what the fuck happened?”

Harry chuckles, but not an amused one. It’s more of a dry, nervous laugh. “How cliche is it if I tell you I was really fucking stupid?”

“Pretty cliche.” You say, “But also pretty true, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry for that.” He looks up, eyes meeting yours again, his own softening upon seeing you. “I really am.”

“Thank you for apologizing.” You smile a little, “But I think I deserve an explanation.”

“You do.” He speaks quietly before clearing his throat. For a second, he doesn’t say anything else, just takes a sharp breath, focusing on his fingers that play with the hem of his trousers. “I- Uhm- I know this might come as a surprise, but I’m not very good at letting people down.”

“A bit, I guess.” You try to humor, but your tone doesn’t show it. You sound quiet, hurt.

He peeks up at you, and continues, “Jess- the girl you met at the premiere- she’s lovely and all, but- how do I say this- we were never really supposed to be together.” Harry sighs, “I didn’t like her like that.”

You frown, “Then, why did you?”

“A couple of months before we met- before Evan even mentioned the film project to me, one of my mates kept insisting that I should meet his sister.” He pauses, “That was Jess.”

“I figured.”

Harry nods, “As I said, she’s a lovely girl, really nice, but we just- didn’t click like that, you know?” You hum in agreement, ignoring a small twist in your stomach when he repeats the endearment term. “But I guess she really wanted to try it, and, for months, I just kept pushing and pushing, cause I thought maybe with time I could bring myself to feel the same way.” And then again, another humorless laugh, “But- spoiler alert- I couldn’t and I should’ve just told her that.”

Your mouth hangs open for a beat before you decide against saying anything. It’s clear as you watch him explain that the entire situation for him felt more complicated than you’d ever considered. Not once did you think about the possibility of him being caught in a twist of his own decisions, and not once did you regard his feelings with the whole situation. In your bubble of gloominess, all you could think of was how he played you and used you for a bit before moving on to the next girl that fell for his sweet talk. 

Looking at him now, however, his head low and brows set on a permanent crease, lips frowning down, you can feel the internal conflict pooling out of his pores. You’re not sure if it’s exactly a look of remorse that he gives you, but it sure seems close to it.

Harry huffs in what feels like frustration as he keeps recalling the events, “But all my mates kept taking the piss, pushing me to ask her out and then, in the middle of it, I met you.” He finally smiles a bit, and you have to look down to hide the warmth that spreads on your cheeks, “And we-uh-” He shrugs, “I mean, we clicked, didn’t we?”

“I think so.” You say, just above a whisper.

“I think so, too,” Harry says, holding your gaze with his own. “And when I was with you I let myself forget about that, forget about the pressure to be with someone else, I guess.” His lips fall again, eyes meeting his lap, “But when we came back, there wasn’t much running away from it anymore. The night we got back I met that friend of mine and, I’m not sure if he said anything to Jess, but she asked me out.”

“And you said yes.”

“I said yes.” He repeats, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have, but I said yes.”

“So you just dated her? Even if you didn’t like her like that?” You say, trying to understand his thought process. Even if his words tug at your heartstrings -- which you try to not think about right now -- you still can’t help but feel a bit for the other girl.

“I thought I could- I don’t know, I thought with time maybe I could-” He stumbles around with his speech, before finally letting out a sigh, “I don’t know what was going through my head, to be honest. I was a prick.”

“At least you can admit to it.”

“I was a prick to both of you.” 

You fall quiet, hoping he takes your silence as an agreement. When he doesn’t offer anything else, you speak up again, “Did it work, though?” He frowns, and you clarify, “Letting time force feelings into you?”

“I found very quickly how hard it is to develop feelings for someone when there’s someone else on your mind.” He says, and you bite back a smile that wants to spread on your lips.

“It’s very easy to say that now.”

“I know.” He agrees, “And I wish I could’ve realized that earlier, before even bringing you into this mess.” Harry reaches for your wrist, which lies on top of your lap, giving it a gentle squeeze. “For that I really am sorry.”

“I know you are.” You reassure, turning your hand to find his, squeezing it back. “And what happened to Jess?”

“She was rightfully upset when I told her.” His thumb brushes against your knuckles, moving the rings on your fingers around just slightly, and it’s almost enough to distract you from his voice. “We broke up a day after the premiere.”

“Ouch.”

“But it’s fine now, she’s got a boyfriend now who actually cares for her the way she deserves,” Harry says.

“That’s nice to hear, at least.”

“It is, yeah.”

You look down at your hands locked in your lap, squeezing his one more time before letting it go with a sigh.  “You really made a big mess, huh?”

He chuckles, a guilty smile poking on his face, “I did.”

You nod, finally reaching for the tiny bottle left forgotten next to you, opening it. This time you only take a sip, but it’s still enough to end half of the liquid inside. You click your tongue, “I’m glad we talked, though.” You look up at Harry again, who’s already watching you, giving a small tap on his thigh. “It’s nice to have closure, you know? To give it a conclusion and wrap with a nice little bow.”

Harry rolls his lip inside his mouth, “Is this a conclusion, then?”

You raise your brows, “Is it not?”

“I guess it could be.” He shrugs one shoulder, leaning closer to you just barely, eyes trained in yours. “But I’m hoping that, after today, maybe we could start over?”

You laugh, scrunching your nose at him as you shake your head. “Not a start over, no.” You poke his side, “You’re not getting away that easy.”

“You’re right.” He says, still not budging as he frowns his lips. “But I wish it didn’t have to be an ending as well.”

“Is that so?”

Harry nods, you can tell his eyes hold a shyness that wasn’t here a minute ago, but at the same time -- as paradoxically as it seems -- there’s a boldness as well, one you’re more familiar with. “Maybe we could chat again. This time with fewer ice breaker cards and more bags of sweets.”

You smile, rubbing your chin as you pretend to ponder about his suggestion. “That does sound very promising.”

“I really do think we clicked.” He drops his playful tone as if wanting to make sure you feel the sincerity behind his words. “Wasn’t just saying it.”

“I know.” You say, “And I think so, too.”

His smirk grows, and he doesn’t offer anything else to say, but you can tell he’s holding something back. With the silence, you suddenly become too aware of the way your arms brush together, and how his knee bumps against yours. You notice how his eyes fall a bit from yours, so quickly you could’ve imagined it, but you choose to not think so. If you lean forward, you know he will too, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. You’re not letting yourself make the first move.

Surely, you’re aware these thoughts are a direct result of the alcohol sweeping through your mind, testing how much of your pride you’re willing to ignore. There’s no questioning of the wall that you built all those months ago after walking out of this very house with this very man on your tail blurring out apologies. It still stands, tall and strong, and you're not letting sweet words mixed with a drink or two pull it down. Not that easily. But at this moment, looking at his stupidly beautiful face with his stupidly beautiful eyes so close to you, you feel like maybe you could peek through a window, or open up a door — just a creek, just to have a sample of what it would feel like if you were to pull it down.

“Do you want to go back?” Harry asks again, this time more quietly, this time his question has a different implication than it did before.

You're quick to shake your head, voice quiet, “Not yet.”

The corner of his lips quirk up and you raise your brows, silently daring him to ask what he’s been holding. You see his hand moving from the corner of your eyes, but you don’t break your gaze from his, not even when you feel his fingertips moving so gently against your cheekbone, brushing your hair away from your face. Harry leans closer, again just barely, and again, you stay still, only smiling softly in encouragement. Now, you’re stuck in your own silent conversation; both seeking the same thing but not making the move to achieve it -- either for pride or apprehension. 

“I’d really like to kiss you right now,” Harry whispers finally, eyes moving down again, this time slowly, making sure that his intentions are clear.

“Do it, then.” You tease.

Harry breathes out a laugh, his hand caressing its way down to your jaw. He rubs his thumb against your cheek, a feathery touch, taking another second to look at you before pulling you in. Your eyes fall closed, as you focus on your senses, and allow yourself to peek from that window, or creek that door open just a bit, to have just this moment to remember when you first got lost in his touch. 

First, it’s the warmth of his breath tickling your cupid bow, making your hold your own breath in anticipation. Then, the tip of his nose, gentle against your own, and you can’t help but lean in a bit more when you feel the ghost of his lips on yours. But he pulls back, just so slightly, hoping to have you reach for him again. Except you don’t, knowing what he’s trying to do.

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head, pulling back just a bit to look him in the eye. “You don’t get to tease me.”

Harry huffs out a laugh, “That’s fair.”

This time, there’s no teasing. Still, he goes in just as slowly as he did the first time around, curving his lips around your bottom one so softly it almost makes you lean in again. His kiss is cloud-like in a way that makes you a bit dizzy and when he presses his lips harder, you have to refrain from letting out a dreamy sigh -- still too stubborn to give him the satisfaction. It’s when you feel the tip of his tongue poking out to lick at your bottom lip in a silent request, that you pull away completely.

It’s your turn to smirk now, licking your lips before announcing, “I think we should go back now.”

[muffindaddystyles]

Love Brings Patience.

A/N: Just an angsty "3am thoughts and listening to hozier while doing" it blurb. Enjoy!! ♡♡

It thunders outside loudly, but she didn’t flinch. The mass of blues and viridescent ivory painting the sky -- a call for rain, as when there’s blessed pour of shower after every winter sick – but it’s monsoon —- there’s none of the sympathy that these boofy clouds could slip into Y/N's pocket as she lays on her bed watching through the glass roof of the home ... they built together.

With so much, love, trust, faith and passion for eachother that anything in the world was unable to come between them – until it did.

Pinning against them and keeping them apart.

Everything will be okay, in the end. It’s not okay. It’s not the end.

It’s just beginning. Beginning to suffer alone and without him, his emotional and physical support, his cheery smile that’d race her heartbeat like chariots of Hades and his gentle need to saturate the distances between them wherever they’re, his loving gleamy eyes never skimming past her and he'd dot soft grateful kisses to her raspberry cheeks and kiss her temple as if she’s the goddess that resides in his home and it’d be a sin not to cherish her.

He loves too much. He did. He does. He loved her beyond everything that it killed him, he was sobbing that night – drenching the lilac carpeted floor with the water droplets dripping down and Y/N wasn’t sure if it was the roar of lightening against the creaky windows of their home or the feebleness of his voice that sobered her into dust.

“Been hurtin' ye'fo’ years .. by being away from you fo' months and coming back to just give y'memories and hopes for me early arrival —-.. what .. -- what kinda lover does that?” He hiccupped. His wet fringes didn’t let Y/N fetch him and dip her hand in his soul to touch it and tell him where he belongs, he always belonged to her – and your path is always destined to ones, who you belong to.

“-- ... makes ye' -m..m—makes you wait and takes the test of yer patience, like you’re not human –...” But, this isn’t what love brings? Wait and patience and sacrifice —- the yearn to have the love of your life in your embrace while you pace through the alleyway of airports.

Love brings patience.

“... darlin’ ye' deserve the same warmth of a body, same attention and love that everyone out there’s getting ..” His sniffles sharp and breathless as he pointed out the window to indicate the world and she doesn’t know how in just one night he became so silly, because her world is him — only him.

Her whisper came out broken, “And what about you?” Her caring question for him made him push the heels of his palms to his sockets and rub the stubborn fat tears away.

“It’s hurtin’ me to. Makes me not breath at nights, stayin' away from you -- ‘m never focusin’ –- ‘s just you, Always you in the pocket of me heart – the back of my mind —-- can’t escape it. My stupid stupid heart tries to see you in strangers faces ‘n —--... my arms pulls at cold sheets to get to your warmth but it never comes, whatever I do.” His chest tightened and it’s repeating the same shortness of breaths he used to get while crying to himself in those hotel rooms, the puffy lips gasping for oxygen and Y/N' was rushing towards him grabbing his jaw to inspect him but he’s slip shutting his eyes and gesturing her he’s okay.

Murmured sadly, “And lovie’ it hurts.” So, loving her hurts him? What kind of love is that? A piece of failure when it should be what they tell in fairy tales.

She failed him.

She was shuddering letting his hand slip from her sweaty palms when he stood up with a worn out sad face, head hung down with the burden of guilt and selfishness.

“I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.” She was on her knees. Lips wobbled glum. She tugged on the bottom of his trousers crying dolefully without any word.

“Not wanting to hurt me by hurtin’ me more?” She cried hugging his leg and not letting it go.

His bestowed assertion made her shudder as he stepped away and to side, “I don’t w'na hurt us anymore.” His heart cracked and promised to him that it'll never heal up how much he'd beg later.

He was crying into his wrist leaving their apartment. Closing his ears with his palms to shut down the loud reckless sobs that echoed till hallway.

That cruel summer night still haunts her every moment and it’s been two weeks, and she wishes that he'll come running towards where she’s shrinking into the bed and jump over her as he used to —-- covering the little distance from the kitchen towards the bed and always made them bounce with the glee of his soft giggles.

How merciless could he be?

Leaving her alone in their home, where every piece of furniture holds his memory; the pink vinyl that’d play their favourite French songs, the squared tiles of their kitchen walls that he wrote different recipes over, the glassed roof through which they'd moon gaze snuggled into eachother and he'd be more happy to stroke her skin and love on the softness of it rather than the twinkle of stars – because he does it when he misses her, not when she’s right in his arms kissing his cheeks to happy affection, his cat who’s homesick because her momma is there or not – it’s not a much difference.

Everything is just ghosts of his memories making the edges of her heart bleed and cracking them dry.

She misses him. She misses him terribly and no day goes by without his thought swimming and tickling her mind.

Telephone rings. It keeps on ringing and she ignores it closing her eyes and tries to surrender herself to darkness of sleep, but then it kept on cutting through the tranquillity of their home and she’s plucking the yellow receiver and speaking something – embarrassed when her voice doesn’t even reach herself.

There’s loud annoyed groaning, vigorous disturbance and a high pitched squeaks before Mitch's monotone voice startles Y/N, “Can you please take him home? He's proper waffled .. broke his —-.. Harry! Can you sit down? Christ. Look you’re looking like a clown in front of all these nurses —-- Y/N?” He sighs and Y/N turns the curly wire around her finger out of anxiousness.

Fidgety on the tips of her toes.

“Where are you? Nurses? Broke? Is Harry okay? Tell me Mitch what’s happening!!?” She’s yelling into the receiver snatching the notepad when Mitch mutters grumpily, “Harry’s in hospital.”

Her heart drops to floor at that and she stares at her feet letting it sink before blinking the tears away and asking him for locations.

The time she reaches it starts raining and she covers herself with the cardigan she sneaked from his wardrobe to feel his presence, his scent and his brush of touch to her skin.

When she’s stumbling inside the rushy lobby filled with people waiting for their turn and her blurry gaze moves in every direction to find Harry sitting on the steel benches, wearing loose tailored curdory trousers and a baby blue sweater she knitted him as a gift for his birthday.

His apple-ish cheeks rosy and his button of nose scrunching up as he sits clumsily on the bench, poking Mitch's bum every other second to laugh at some kid who has his hand struck in a pot.

His own wrist bandaged up and around his neck, his pupils glassy foam and his condition dishevelled and ruffled up. It tears her up and she breathes in a sniffle – wiping her nose and padding towards him.

When his eyes rakes up a huge dimply smile is adorning his weary features and he’s waving her with limpy fingers shyly.

He’s drunk, drunk.

He pouts cherry-ly. Brows flinching together and he position himself straighter with Mitch's help when he takes in the dampness of her cheeks, “Why’re y'cryin' lovie’?” Darn that pet name. He slurs and his words mumbish.

“You’re hurt...” She points at his wrist. He looks down as it isn’t obvious and Mitch rolls his eyes, “Not hurt.” He shakes his head and when looks back up he’s grinning.

“Was just takin' hugeee steps downstairs -- ye'know me clumsiness and it’s kinda Mitchy's fault too ... told him to grab me tightly —-... ‘cos ‘m sensitive lil petal —--...” Y/N's biting down a snort at his squeaky high pitched voice and Mitch’s cutting him with thin smile.

“Been biting my ears off about you. How was I supposed to keep my balance when he clings to me so hard as if I’m summat his lover....” Y/N's eyes widen when Mitch grabs Harry from armpits and slinks his one arm around Y/N's shoulder as if Harry’s some parcel and he didn’t like it.

“Take him, home.” He mumbles and she stutters, “Wait ... hey! How? Mitch come back you mummy head.” She calls for him but he just walks away and Y/N’s left with no option but to take Harry with her.

“Be careful.” She whispers walking down the slope at exit of hospital with Harry clinged to her, “You came here on car?” She nudges his cheek with her shoulder but he just snuggles his face into the nook of her jaw.

“Mitch took it?” She groans. Swiping the rain droplets away from her forehead and steps behind under the shelter, “No ... it’s parked right here.” He mumbles against her sweet spot making her shiver and she makes them do a lil jog to the car and Harry’s giggling squeaking nonsense in her ear.

“Harry if y’refuse to leave me .....” She warns him trying to squirm out of his embrace as he sits in the passenger seat holding her so she sighs and tries to stick to more gentle coaxing way.

Shaky fingers gliding up his cheek to cup it and stroke the blue bags under his eyes, screaming that he having restless night for week now, “Petal if you don’t leave me how ‘m supposed to drive?” He gazes her peculiarly –- caressing her knuckles, stares his own motion and gives her the most puppy eyes that melts her on the spot, “Then hold me hand?” Now, could she say no to him? Never. She hates herself for it.

“’kay you could hold my –-- lemme —--... just --.. good boy.” She takes her hand out of his grip and pats his thigh before rushing to driver’s side.

She knows that how much he needs reassurances when he’s drunk and how much his love language of touching her peaks to sky.

She fulfils her promise and let him hold her hand, enjoying the little happiness because she knows it’s temporary and in the morning she'd be met by empty bed and hollow arms.

“I missed home.” He smiles wetly. Eyes closed as he stays on hugging her walking inside and whines when she squats down to untie his laces.

When she make him sit on the sofa and tries to leave for the kitchen, he’s lurching forward to grab her wrist and plead into her arm with moisture in his eyes, “No.No.No lovie' don’t go. Don’t go, pleaseeeee.......” She pets his sweaty curls kissing his forehead and murmurs against his hair while he loops his elbows lazily around her waist.

“Not going anywhere bub. Bringing you water.”

“No water. Just you. I missed you. Missed you so much. Missed you too much.” He’s rambling knuckling at his eyes and her belly fills with butterflies that flap till her heart and makes her feel woozy.

Though, she overcomes the bitter sweet feeling and brings him water how much he whined.

He has his hand planted softly at her thigh and gasps loudly and dramatically finishing the last droplet, and puckers his lips making funny noises against the rim of glass and she takes it away from him giggling, “’kay it's enough.”

He shuts his eyes for a moment and when opens them back it’s sea of pinks and the tears are shining at his waterline and he croaks out hoarsely, “Y/N ....?” Sobered up. He's feeling awful and in constant need to take her in his arms.

“Hmm?” She hums giving him a nervous smile and he straightens up taking both of her hands in his's, “I don’t want to be away from you anymore, darlin'. It’s worse than being temporarily away from ye'. Terrible. Terrible. I feel sick all the time as if there’s a dagger twisting into my heart ‘cos I know ‘m never fallin' in love with anyone except you ... but I don’t think you deserve me —.. I -- I —... I just think you —--- it’s killing me baby. Take me back please, baby take me back." He sniffs the tears and she’s crying with him; calling out his name and when he doesn’t listen she’s cradling his face delicately in her palms and making him look at her.

“Harry, my sweetheart. I love you. Isn’t that enough to assure you that I deserve you and only you – no one else.” He's blinking furiously and she bobs her head not flickering her loving gaze away from him.

“I love you too, will you take me back now? After what I did?” His insecurity and doubts about himself floating back.

“You left for best. Realised that we couldn’t live without eachother, didn’t you?” She pecks the corner of his lips and he leans in for a chaste kiss, their teeth clanking from smiling wide and happy and he giggles when she pushes herself off from him.

They crawl to their bed together and she flumps on his chest and he moans squeakily, “Ow.”

“Oh my, Har ....” She gasps. Shakes her head and flicks him on forehead when he grins bashfully.

“G'na take care of me?” His chin doubles over adorably as he tries to see her and brush her hair away.

“Gonna take care of you, petal” She patches a soft kiss to his chest and erupts into loud giggles when he teases her nonchalantly, “G'na help me wipe my arse.”

“Harry! Your other hand’s perfectly capable of wiping yourself clean!” He brings her closer with his uninjured hand and kisses her tenderly -- to show her all the love they missed on these few weeks.

“I love being home.” He murmurs into the kiss. Playing with her tresses round his nimble and traces kisses all over her face.

“Promise me you’re never doing silly again.” She pouts and he plucks at it – smooching a kiss to it later.

“Promise.” He tries to hook his bandaged pinky to her's and she laughs into his neck – shakes her head and kisses his cheek hugging him tightly.

[internalsealpanic]

Love Through the Ages (Damian Wayne)

Summary:  Love like baggage needs to be declared.

a/n: This is part one of a series that is a fic rec list disguised as a fic. For these fics, most of the characters will be speaking different languages, so unless specified otherwise assume that the characters are speaking in the first language I mention. They’re all vampires with centuries under their belt. Why wouldn’t I make them all polyglots.  Also, thank you to the proof reading gang for putting up with my shenanigans.  I will have links to the fics I recommend in the fic itself.

Warnings: Everyone is dramatic. 

Masterlist

Series Masterlist. 

You wait by the platform, tapping your feet to the rhythm of the Little Colonel Bojangles Dance. It's been so long since you've seen the movie but your feet can still remember the steps- much to Damian's annoyance. Your feet patter against the pavement, wet from the spring rain, in a soft rhythm that kept your excitement at bay.

You wave to the approaching cab. The passenger of the cab looks away from you, pressing his mouth into the heel of his hand as his eyes stare out into oblivion. Your mouth quirks at the petulant gesture. You haven't seen each other in two decades and he's still mad about... what was it again? You'll find out soon enough.

The cab stops in front of you.

You bow your head, resting your weight on your umbrella. You grin at his seated form postured perfectly with an ease of a man born with the world in his pocket. He's dressed in a black suit and a dark coat that looked far too thick for spring.

"Long time, no see, little prince." You say in a dialect of Spanish too old for the young cab driver to recognize.

Damian raises his brow, articulating his annoyance. It takes you a moment to realize that it was with the accent you'd chosen. It was inelegant and curt and it mangled the curve of the syllables far too easily. In short, it was your favorite dialect.  Rolling your eyes, you try again. This time with a softer, smoother dialect much more modern but still old enough that you could talk freely without worrying about eavesdroppers.

Damian cracks a smile at you. It was wry but soft in the way Damian always was. Your own exasperated smile softens as you look at his eyes, their ever-changing lushness. It's been too long.

You open the door. Damian eases out of the cab handing the cabby what you quietly hope was the correct amount.

But considering the wide-eyed glee on the cabbies face, you can guess that twenty years has done nothing for Damian's spending habits. That was if the tailored suit wasn't a dead giveaway.

You look him over whistling," whose funeral are you going to after the museum?" 

"Yours if we're on schedule." Damian deadpans looking at his watch. 

You snort, sounding like a piglet in mud. Adoration flickers in Damian's eyes but you miss it as you throw your head back.

"Who has a schedule on vacation."

"People who don't like wasting time."

"That's what a vacation is for."

Damian makes an annoyed noise in the back of his throat and you shake your head. Damian wraps his arm around your shoulders. You happily press into his side, reveling in the intimacy of the action.

Damian had been telling you a story in rapid Arabic, the only words you understood were 'Jon' and 'moron', when you pause in front of a pair of paintings. The painting on the left was of Damian, his form drawn in harsh, messy angles. He's hunched over his sketchbook, candlelight glowing softly by his side makes his copper skin and forest green eyes breathtaking. The subject is out of view. The other was a portrait of you dozing off on a workshop table, your flaws lovingly rendered in gentle brush strokes. By contrast, your portrait was lit by the summer sun. Only Damian could make your features look this beautiful.

Vaguely, you remember this.

You remember it only for the countless times it had happened.

"They say that the one on the left is the painter sketching the portrait on the right and that the portrait on the right is of his lover."  You say airily. Damian, not one to disappoint, gives you an unreadable look.

Your stomach turns. You drop the subject. Wordlessly, you two make your way to the exhibit.

"Love through the Ages?" Damian asks, crossing his arms.

"Shockingly love wasn't invented by Stephenie Meyer."  You say. Damian wrinkles his nose at you and you cover your mouth to hide the scraggly smile spreading across your lips.

"I'm shocked your paintings didn't make it in."

He looks down at you huffing, "it's only speculation." 

You're heart twinges at that.  You press a frown to your hand.

"It'll be fun, Dami. I promise. Pleeeeeease."

Damian's stern look gives way to a weary half-smile as he capitulates to you.

"I promise it will only be half as nauseating as Dick's attempts to do family bonding."

"Tt, it would take a miracle to surpass that."

You grin. "Perish the thought."

"They say this stardust came from star-crossed lovers as they traveled through space. Oh and this one is a statue gifted by Persephone to Hades."

You drag Damian all over the exhibit. Pointing to specific exhibits with enthusiasm. He has to admit. It's infectious. Then again, Damian's never been able to resist anything about you. This amount of enthusiasm for something so frivolous would have been obnoxious on anyone else but because it's you, Damian's found himself utterly enamored by it.

"This one," You say, pointing to a series of paintings. They were all beautiful, painted in bold colors. The torrent of emotions radiating off of the canvas. "This one was made by an artist torn between three loves."

"Three? She must have been an exceptional artist."

"Probably was but her name was lost." You sigh.

 "She’s got exceptional brushwork." Damian hums. 

You squint at it. You would think after hundreds of years you would be able to discern that.

"And over there! Look at those postcards!" You say, pointing the three postcards pinned to a cloth in a glass case.  One card showed the northern lights, another with a picture of a thick rainforest, another with a large cave, and another with the pantheon. 

"They're not well preserved are they." Damian comments, scrutinizing the postcards and noting all the imperfections, the little cracks and tears, the water stains, and odd splotches of dirt. 

You roll your eyes, curling your fingers around his arm. "That's cus Hermes supposedly brought them everywhere while he searched for his lost love." 

"Quite the romantic. Do you know all the artifacts?"

"Yup." 

"I see..." Damian drawls.  "Then why are we here then?" Damian winces at how harsh and impatient he sounds. 

"Cus Jon said I needed an excuse to get you here and viola. It worked. I knew you'd cross the sea for a rare exhibit."

I would cross the sea for you, no matter how many times, Damian thinks.

"What about this?" Damian points to a golden coin, shaking his thoughts away. 

You lean back, side-eyeing him. "Care to guess?" His handsome features furrow as he thinks. 

"I think it’s a coin used to pay Charon." He says finally. 

You frown. "Good guess." A smug grin curls on his lips.  You stick your tongue out at him. 

"It’s an old Greek coin to pay the travel into the underworld."

 "Why would they want to travel  to the underworld?" It's Damian's turn to frown. 

"Yanno for someone who's so smart. You're asking the dumbest questions."

"It's a reasonable question." He asserts, his tone oddly defensive.

"Most people can't bear to be apart from their beloved."

Damian hums noncommittally. He understands that. he understands that all too well. 

"Like you and Jon." You say grinning.

Damian glares at you. No real anger behind it. 

"You two bicker like an old married couple." You laugh.

 "So do we." Damian says flatly, stepping closer to you and closing the gap between the two of you. He's looking at you so intensely that your skin sets itself on fire. 

"I often think about burying you under the kitchen patio too." Damian sneers, with a sharp grin. 

You snap out of your daze. Leaning in close and smiling, your hot breath fan against Damian's face.  "Will you do it affectionately?"

The moment hangs still in the air.  If you could capture it in amber, you would.

"Huh? This is new." You say, looking down at the glass case.

"How many times have you seen this exhibit?"

You preemptively shoot him an accusatory look. "What are you?"

"Concerned."

"Pfff!"

You lean down reading the plate. "Says here it's a letter from the late 1700s and early 1800s. An unsent letter to lost love."

"Sounds cliched." Damian says, leaning down next to you. 

"You've said that about everything."

You feel Damian stiffen beside you. You glance at him. He looks mortified. Your eyes follow his and land on the letter. The calligraphy looks familiar but you can't think of where you've seen the scrawl.

Damian tugs at your shoulder.

"(Y/n), let's go."

You shrug him off.

"(Y/n), let’s go." He repeats with increased urgency.

You shove your palm to his face.

Damian wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You flail and kick out childishly.

“Damian Al Ghul Wayne, I will gnaw your arm off.” You hiss but he doesn’t let go. In a last ditch effort to break free of his hold, you wriggle out of your coat.  Landing on your ass, you scramble for the glass case. 

My beloved (Y/n), 

Finding the words to tell you how I feel about you is not an easy feat. I feel as though Ibn Hazm himself would struggle to compose poems to express my feelings for you even then they would be inadequate.

Whilst we are surrounded by such death and misery, here in London, I want you to know that during these dark times, it is you that keeps me a light. It is you that leads me through the void and guides me.

I think I’ve always loved you from the very first moment I laid eyes on your beautiful lopsided smile. Yes. Your real smile. The one only a handful of people will ever see. I have been lucky enough to see it every day.

As time passed, I fell more and more in love with you. You have seen all of me. You have seen the monster within me and yet you still stand by my side. Never faulting in your stance.

I wish I had the strength to tell you this, face to face. I wish I could look into your eyes and whisper words of love my immortal beloved.

With Love, 

Damian

You stare at the letter uncomprehending. Realization slides off of you like rain off a tin roof. You read it over and over again until each syllable is embedded in your mind. “Damian, what the actual fuck?!”

“I-”

“You dork!”

Damian clams up unable to think of a response. Ok, no. He had a number of responses but none of them were appropriate or witty. He searches your features but the only thing he can make out is shock. 

“(Y/n), I was-”

You press your hand to the glass. “How come you never sent me this?”

“The French Revolution.”

“Which one?”

He crosses his arms raising a brow. 

“Ok, nevermind. But still, it’s been 200 years.”

“A lot has happened in 200 years.”

“A lot has happened in 200 years.” You repeat mockingly.

Damian pinches your cheeks in retaliation.   

“I was pinning for more than 200 hundred years!” You protest. 

“So was I!” Damian says, releasing your cheek. 

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” Damian asks, accusing and curt. You flinch, something vile and caustic rising in your stomach.  Damian sees it and grips your hand as you fall away from him. He just got you back. “(Y/n)....”

The fear and hurt melt off of your face. “I thought… I just thought you’d...” You ball your fists in frustration, not quite grasping the right words. But Damian already knows what you’re thinking. He’s seen that look in your face. He’s seen it every time you look at the mirror. It was infuriating to watch you like this. Why couldn’t you see just how perfect you are?

Damian pulls you into a hug, burying your face into his chest and resting his chin on top of your head. 

“You are infuriating.” He mumbles into your hair.

“And you’re rude.” You mumble back.

“Yet here you are 400 years later.” He laughs softly. 

You two stand in silence for a long moment. With Damian, silence itself was a language. It was one you’d grown fluent in. An unspoken conversation of confirmations and reassurances. 

He releases you but holds your hand in his. It feels warm. You shiver and Damian smiles at you, smooshing your coat into your face. Both of you can’t help but laugh. 

You step closer to the glass case, pulling him along. Damian follows without resistance, only lacing his fingers into yours. You both stare at the page. His proclamation of love carefully preserved for all to see. You take your phone out to take a picture.  Damian shoots you a glare. 

“You’re not sending that to Jon.” 

“Tim then.”

“No.”

“Fine, for myself then.” You pause seeing the confusion on his face. “In case, you know...” You say waving your hand. 

Damian tilts your chin up. “Beloved, I’m not going anywhere.”

Your chest flutters. After centuries of inaction, you can feel your heartbeat.  

[sinner-as-saint]

Ardor.

Artist! Seb AU.

Requested.

 Run-through: You’re a struggling model who is ready to accept any work. In your time of need, an unusual offer comes your way. You accept it without giving it a second thought; and you find love where it wasn’t supposed to be.

Themes: SMUT, fluff, artist! Seb

AN: This is a long fic, grab your food, drinks and blankets.

You were sure that if you weren’t ready and out of the door in less than a minute, Natasha – your agent, was going to murder you in cold blood.

 “Y/N, I swear to God if you’re not ready and out of this door in a minute I will-,”

 “Jesus! Calm down, I’m ready Nat. Let’s go,” you opened the door to your apartment, cutting her off and giving her the brightest smile you could.

Nat was standing outside, wearing a dark red dress. Her face showed her annoyance and you knew you were the cause for it.

 “We were supposed to be there already, what took you so long?” she chided as she dragged you all the way down the hallway to the elevator.

You sighed.

 “The people from earlier did a horrible job on my hair, so I needed to wash it. Sorry, Nat I know I’m not doing good right now, but I’m gonna do my best at the casting tomorrow. I won’t let you down,” you spoke sheepishly as the elevator descended.

It was true, you had hit rock bottom recently. You barely had enough money in your bank account for this month’s rent, and nothing was working out recently.

All the casting directors were turning you down, telling you that you should try your luck elsewhere. You had left your parent’s home 2 years ago, in rage – because they didn’t support your dream of being a model. According to them, it’s not a real job. And that exposing your body for money didn’t make you any different than the women in the streets.

You were on your own, until you met Natasha. She was your agent, manager of your life, friend, big sister; everything.

She had put in a word for you and you had a few shoots with a couple of well-known brands during the past year, but as of right now – nothing was working out, and you could tell it was stressing her out.

 Nat looked up at you and smiled.

 “I know you won’t, I believe in you, Y/N. However, if tonight works out like I want it to, you might not even need to go to that casting tomorrow,” she finished with a wink, and a smirk.

Oh boy. You knew that look.

 “What does that mean? And why are we even going to that stupid art exhibition anyways?” you asked as the two of you stepped out of the elevator and walked out of the apartment building.

You tried your best not to trip on the fabric of your burgundy dress. It was a lovely evening gown, flowy and light; a satin so smooth that you could help but touch the fabric occasionally. It was definitely the kind of dress you couldn’t afford if it weren’t for Nat.

She knew designers who set you up with the outfit, and the jewelry.

 Catching a quick glimpse at yourself in the glass door of the building, you got in the passenger seat of Nat’s car.

 “It’s not just any art exhibition, its Sebastian Stan’s latest pieces. And rumor has it, he’s looking for an art model for his next project. And if you’re lucky enough, he might choose you,” Nat explained and you nodded.

“Where did you hear that rumor? Dude’s a millionaire, why would he need me? I’m sure he’ll go after one of the famous faces,” you spoke in a dull tone, your tiredness getting the best of you.

You had barely slept the night before.

 Nat took a sharp turn which startled you, causing you to glare at her playfully.

“He’s looking for a fresh face, someone who’s not all over the city. You might have a chance, just look interested and compliment his work if you ever see him,” Nat spoke, glancing over at you.

 You gave her a puzzled look.

You had heard about how good if an artist Sebastian Stan was, and you had heard the prices at which his pieces sold. But you had never seen him. There were no pictures of him anywhere, and you weren’t famous enough to personally mingle with a man of his caliber.

 “How would I recognize him? I’ve never seen him before, have you?”

 “Nope, but they say he’s very handsome, and charming,” Nat replied.

 You nodded and the rest of the car ride was silent. You got busy on your phone, or pretended to be busy rather. This industry was ruthless, everyone was fake. Natasha was your only friend at the moment.

 Minutes later, Nat parked outside a grandiose gallery and handed the key to the valet outside as the two of you made your way inside.

Nat held the two invites close to her and finally handed it over at the reception. The lady smiled and pointed you towards the entrance of the hall.

 “Everything and everyone here are so…expensive. How did you even get the invite?” you questioned, looking around, yet avoiding eye contact with everyone.

Your heels clicked against the marble floor as you walked behind Nat. She turned around and smirked at you.

 “I have connections, baby,” she winked again and paused in her tracks.

You stopped as well, and looked around, suddenly feeling very out of place.

 “Okay, I’m gonna to put a word in for you with a few people. I’m gonna need you to cooperate, alright? Straighten those shoulders, chin up, grab a wine, look pretty and talk to people, okay? Text me if there’s anything and remember, men like to be praised. If you run into Stan, work your magic,”

 Nat walked away quickly, swaying her hips on purpose and making every men, and women, in the room stare after her. You chuckled at her words and followed her instructions.

You grabbed a glass of white, sparkling wine, and walked around lazily, earning a few looks and smiles from men. You wondered if anyone of them was Sebastian Stan.

You looked at the art pieces and found that you actually enjoyed them. They were all painting of flowers, some were abstract even and the mess of colors were comforting in a sense. Chaos could be beautiful, right?

 You noticed that all of them were colored, except for the largest painting in the room. A rather large black and white sunflower in the furthest corner of the room; almost as if placed there so that no one would pay attention to it.

Colorless, but it was beautiful. Surprisingly, no one paid much attention to it, except for one man. You noticed a tall man, with his hand in his pocket and a wine glass in the other, just staring up at the canvas. He was standing there alone while everyone else was socializing.

Must be a fan, you thought.

 You felt naturally gravitated towards the man. You hadn’t seen his face yet, but his stance gave away a lot. As you walked over to him, you noticed the very expensive watch on his wrist as he raised his glass to his lips. His well-tailored, light grey suit added to his valor.

Just for a moment, you felt inferior. But Natasha’s words echoed in your head and it pushed you forward.

You walked up to him and stood right a few feet away, and noticed that his gaze were fixated on the painting.

 “Pretty, isn’t it?” you spoke, trying to incite a conversation.

The man finally turned his head to look at you, and just for a moment, he looked at you as if he had found the answer to each and every question he ever had. Wide-eyed and he looked as though he had been dreaming of this moment.  

You were immediately captivated by his dreamy, blue eyes. He was indeed, dreamy. His hair was messy, yet well groomed at the same time. A well-kept beard, he looked like your typical ladies’ man.

He broke out of whatever reverie he was caught up in and blinked, smiled and nodded.

 “You think?” he asked, and you gave him a confused look. What a weird response.

 “Yeah, I mean I don’t understand art that much, but I think it stands out. I think it’s beautiful. Don’t you, I mean you’ve been admiring it for quite a while,” you spoke and smiled at him.

You didn’t miss the way he shamelessly eyed your body, his eyes lingering around the risqué slit of your gown which showed your legs. You looked down for a moment and then looked back at him as soon as he spoke up again.

 “An artist never admires his own work, doll. He looks for the flaws no one else can see,” as soon as those words left his mouth, you froze.

Fuck.

 “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were- I don’t -,”

He cut off your rambling by taking a couple of steps towards you.

 “It’s okay. What’s your name, doll?” he asked, his words carried a playful tone. His blue eyes bore into yours, making it very difficult for you to focus on anything else.

 “I… I’m-,”

 “Sebastian Stan, it’s lovely to meet you finally. I see you’ve met Y/N already,” Natasha spoke up from behind you and you mentally thanked God she was here.

 “Miss Romanoff, it’s a pleasure. Y/N is delightful,” he spoke, taking Nat’s hand and shaking it gently.

Natasha gave you a sly smirk which spoke volumes.

 “I’m sure you will consider her while making a choice for your next project, correct? Y/N will be in town, contact us whenever,” Nat, always so confident, spoke and gave Sebastian one of her very business-y smiles.

 Sebastian smiled back and glanced at you.

 “I assure you, I won’t forget her,” he said, his voice was velvety and soothing.

Those words repeated themselves in your mind all night.

After your brief interaction with the man of the hour, you and Nat walked around and talked to a few more people and she introduced you to people whose names you forgot almost instantly.

All night, you could shake off the fact that you felt as though you were being watched. A burning stare on your face or your back. And each time you turned around, you would find Sebastian eyeing you.

 You were okay with being watched, it formed part of your job to catch one’s attention, but there was something different about the way he was looking at you.

He wasn’t just looking, he was… studying almost; memorizing each curve and each feature. You wondered why.

 However, you very quickly got your answer.

  “Oh my god!” Nat exclaimed as soon as the two of you stepped into your apartment.

You sighed and took your heels off, throwing them carelessly onto the floor.

 “What now? Which lousy photographer needs a lingerie model right now?” you spoke from past experience. You had been there, and done that. And it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

 “It’s not- fuck! It’s Stan’s people! He wants to meet up with you tomorrow! Y/N, do you have any idea how big this is? This is amazing!” Nat was genuinely happy for you.

You were too, as this was probably the big break you needed.

 Nat went on and on about how this was good for your career and how lucky you are. She gave you all the details; time, address, along with some advice and left at around 2 a.m. As you laid in bed that night, you found yourself unable to fall asleep as the image of a certain blue-eyed handsome man kept resurfacing in your head.

  ---

  The next morning, Nat was at your door at 9 a.m. sharp. After a quick breakfast, the two of you set out.

She dropped you at Sebastian’s place an hour later, and you were a nervous wreck by the time you got there.

 “What if he makes me sit naked in front of him for hours? What if-,”

 “Y/N, don’t over think, please. Artists employ models privately all the time. He’s a decent man, don’t worry. Now go,” she urged you to step out of the car.

 “He could’ve asked for pictures, I- Nat, I’m scared, what if-,”

 “He’s an old soul, Y/N. The guy’s old-fashioned, you’ll be fine honey. Now get the fuck out, walk in there and everything will be fine, babe. Call me if there’s anything,”

You clutched your bag close to you and reluctantly stepped out of the car.

 Nat drove away as soon as you were out of the car, and it was just little you facing the lavish apartment building. Nat told you that he owned the penthouse on top. And that’s where you found yourself just minutes later.

Your heart pounded for some weird reasons, as you knocked on the wooden door. You heard footsteps approaching and you immediately started channeling your alter ego; the more confident, bubbly one.

 The door flew open, revealing a very handsome, blue eyed man.

Sebastian Stan.

Dressed in a simple white t-shirt, and black sweatpants, he looked much different than the night before. A bit more relaxed and casual if you will, but just as handsome.

 “Hi,” you chirped, smiling as bright as you could. He returned the smile.

 “Y/N, come on in. Oh and, excuse the mess,” he warned as he let you in. You chuckled as you walked in. Being who he is, the place was a true mess.

He had very minimal furniture, a couple of couches maybe and that was it. The walls looked like a child was given the freedom to do whatever he willed with it; paint and sketches adorned the cream walls.

The floor was tainted as well; stained with spilled paint. Crumbled newspapers, broken canvas, and paint brushes littered the entirety of the room.

He laughed nervously as you took in the room more and more.

 “I don’t live here by the way, I’m not an animal I promise. This is more like a workshop,” he explained, standing right behind you as you stopped briefly and stared at one of the unfinished painting on a canvas on the floor.

 “Why didn’t you complete that one?” you asked, curious as to why he left the artwork unfinished.

 He chuckled.

 “Couldn’t find the right inspiration, that’s been happening a lot lately,” he spoke, and you caught the despair in his voice.

 “Oh, I’m sorry,” you involuntarily took a step towards him. He stayed put and allowed you to approach him.

 “It’s alright, doll. That’s why you’re here today. If you’re good, can we start?” he asked, with excitement in his eyes.

 You smiled and nodded. He immediately rushed to grab his stuff; an easel, a blank canvas and he picked up a few brushes along the way. He was such a mess it was adorable. And you had to refrain yourself from laughing as you watched him avoid the empty paint cans and broken canvas on the floor.

He set everything up in front of a couch and grabbed a stool.

 “Come here, doll,” he called out to you, grabbing a couple of pencils off the ground. The endearing nickname he gave you made you feel a certain ways. And the way he said it, the way his voice got softer and how his eyes sparkled had you feeling tingly everywhere.

 You walked over to where he was and stood on front of his canvas. You dropped your bag and waited for his instructions.

He eyed you and the corners of his mouth lifted again; smiling softly at you.

 “Take your clothes off,” he spoke softly. His voice was smooth, and velvety, yet – something changed in him.

He seemed more observant, and more focused once you took your white top off; revealing your lacy, nude bra.

Nat had chosen it, and you couldn’t tell whether it was a preference or a requirement which came from Sebastian.

Either way, it seemed to work as he had a pleasant smile on his face as you stripped.

 Next were your pants, taking them off revealed your nude thong and your bare legs.

 “Perfect,” he spoke, standing up and walking towards you. You were fine with being in very little clothing, but there was something about the way he looked at you which made you feel a certain way.

 He grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the black couch. He sat you down and eyed your body again; observing, studying, and thinking – all while twirling a piece of your hair in his fingers.

You looked up at him; and he was majestic. There was an innocence in his eyes, yet, a mischief.

 “Lose the bra,” he spoke and your face burned red as soon as the words escaped his mouth.

 “Pardon?” you asked, almost out of instinct. Well, it wasn’t everyday a famous painter had you in his place, sat you down on his couch and asked you to strip.

 “It’s alright, doll. We’re gonna do some sketches today, we’ll try different poses and props and then you can be back tomorrow so we can work some more. Sound good?” his voice was calming, and comforting.

Honestly, if felt as though he had you under his spell. You would follow him anywhere if he simply asked you to.

 “Okay,” you whispered and he smiled and left temporarily.

 You stood up and unhooked your bra, allowing it to fall down carelessly. Right as it did, you felt a presence behind you.

Keeping your shyness under control, you lifted your chin up and faced him with fake confidence. He eyed you for a second and then looked down at the bunch of flowers in his hands.

Sunflowers.

 You smiled at the irony, temporarily forgetting that you were standing in front of him in nothing but a nude colored thong.

 “I couldn’t color the sunflower last time. I have a feeling I will this time, because I have my muse now. Here you go, doll,” he smiled and handed you the flowers, and you understood that that would be your first prop.

 Sebastian sat on his stool and observed you for another minute while you settled among the pillows of the couch, bending your leg under you.

You held the sunflowers in front of you as a means to hide your chest but also showing enough to keep someone guessing.

Sebastian gave you a smile, and began working on the canvas. You heard his grunts, and sighs and the strokes of his pencil against the canvas. You had to stay still, so you admired the flowers in your hand.

He worked quickly, and made rough sketches as much as he could, and then gave you another prop. Next was a clean, white bed sheet; which you wrapped sensually around you – barely covering anything as you looked directly at him.

You watched how he chewed on the top of a pencil while another one was in his hand, making rapid movements against the canvas. He had nothing but determination in his eyes each time he looked at you and then back at the canvas.

 2 hours later, you were done for the day. He showed you the canvas he used and laughed when you told him all you saw was a mess of lines and curves.

“It’ll make more sense when it’s done. You were so good today, doll. Thank you,” he smiled as you got dressed.

 You were having trouble putting on your bra again so he hooked it for you. The two of you seemed much more comfortable with one another, and nudity was no longer a problem on your part. You trusted him, and he made you feel safe, in some ways you couldn’t explain.

His warm fingers brushed against your back as he adjusted the straps of your bra and allowed his fingers to linger around the back of your neck; making you shiver.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he whispered under his breath and you turned around to face him. He was standing so close that your faces were merely inches away from one another.

 “Thank you, Sebastian,” you whispered, and for a very brief moment, your eyes flicked to his lips. Parted, pink and sinful – they were tempting. He was tempting.

It felt as though he inched forward for a quick second, but he caught himself before he did something unexpected.

He cleared his throat as he backed away and gave you space to put your shirt back on.

 “I texted Miss Romanoff, she’s waiting for you downstairs,” he spoke, as he had to force himself to keep his hands from touching you.

He was utterly under your spell. He felt as though he would take any leap of faith if you just asked him too. He was whipped ever since he first saw you that night at his exhibition.

 You exchanged a brief goodbye and he watched you as you left. He mentally cursed at how gracefully you walked out of his messy penthouse.

Your hips swaying; teasing the living shit out of him.

 The past few hours with you had been a blessing and a curse. He knew he did many double takes while drawing because he was so easily distracted by you. As if your face wasn’t pretty enough, you absolutely had to have a body which could make a man lose his mind. And your eyes… oh your eyes.

They had a playfulness in them, but they also held a mischievous promise.

Sebastian was never one who would get so attached to someone so fast, but damn did he feel all the butterflies in the world whenever he thought about you.

Earlier, he had to refrain himself from walking over to where you were and have his way with way with you on the couch itself. But he knew he couldn’t. You trusted him, and he had to be careful.

What he could do though, is elongate the process. He could stretch it so you spend more time with him than needed. It was selfish and unprofessional, but he had to.

 Sebastian stood in the middle of his messy room and took his phone out, naming the amount he needed to pay you to his people. His assistant was shocked for a moment, and asked him to confirm. He repeated it.

Five grands. He thought you deserved it.

 ---

 When Nat called you later that night to tell you about the payment, you were shocked.

“Nat, something must be wrong. Most art models make under a hundred dollars an hour! Five fucking thousand, are you sure?” you asked, yelling into the phone.

Nat was sure.

Good God.

 -

  You were to meet up with him the next day as well, and you thought you should bring it up.

 For today’s session he had you in a very expensive looking, red gown made of pure silk. You had a deep, deep cleavage, and the back of the dress was practically non-existent. But it was beautiful. And looked like it cost a fortune.

 Sebastian drew you at a different location, and a different angle. He was closer now, and you were on the floor, amongst the crumpled newspapers and paint brushes and broken canvas; sat on a pillow.

You pointed out the evident mess and Sebastian called it his organized chaos.

You laughed.

A few moments of silence later, you believed you should bring up the payment.

 “So, um, Sebastian?”

 “Yes, doll?” he replied from behind the canvas, which was so large that it hide his body entirely.

 “About yesterday’s payment… uh, I think there might’ve been a mistake while they were writing the check given to Nat,” you spoke, trying your best not to move while you spoke.

He lowered his hand and moved aside to face you; a puzzled look on his face.

“Why would you say that?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

 You shrugged.

 “I don’t – its just, that’s a lot more money than I was expecting and-,”

 Sebastian stood up, and started walking over to where you sat. Your words cut short. You watched him as he carefully avoided the mess on the floor and squatted down in front of you.

His hand reached out and touched your face. He was silent, as his fingers caressed your cheek, and you had to resist the urge to lean into the warmth of his hand.

 “You’re not just any art model, doll. You’re my muse. You’re what I need, okay? You deserve it,” he spoke and leaned forward again, but quickly stood up.

 Sebastian suggested you should take a break.

 Minutes later, you finished that day’s session.

   ---

 A week had passed, and you had visited Sebastian every day, and spent hours with him. It might sound boring, but he was an amazing company. He had travelled the world, so he often told you stories which made you laugh.

You told him the story of your life, and how your parents did not support your dreams. And how it sucked.

And he told you about how he came from a modest family, and how he initially started painting to earn extra money to contribute to his family’s income; and how he fell in love with art and made a successful career out of it.

He was an interesting man, a little old fashioned like Nat had pointed out; but interesting nonetheless. You learned that he was much older than you were, and he pretended he was 70 and had funny ‘opinions’ on today’s youth.

He was a good company.

 Yet, you were still shocked with each check he sent with Nat, they were hefty.

 On Sunday, he had something urgent to attend to, so your session was at night. He had contacted Nat and had asked her to let you know that he would be waiting for you at around 8 30 p.m.

And there you were, always punctual whenever he called.

When you reached his door however, something was different. There was a scent which lingered around. It smelt like peaches and vanilla. Smelt like summer, and happiness.

 You frowned and knocked on the door. Sebastian was at the door almost immediately; smiling and looking good as ever in his grey t-shirt and black sweatpants – covered in spots of paint.

You smiled back, and noticed that the room behind him was darker. Much darker than normal.

 He invited you in and the scene did surprise you a bit. The lights were off, and there were at least a hundred candles lit – everywhere.

And it all smelt divine. You smiled as you looked around, and Sebastian watched you intently.

 “I wanted to change things up a little. I hope that’s okay,” he asked, biting his lower lip.

Oh fuck.

 “Oh- yeah, I- I mean, it’s so beautiful. I guess I didn’t know artists paint at night, in dimmed lights but oh well,” you added, making him chuckled.

 He stared into your eyes for a while, and you did the same.

 You wondered if he was silently trying to convey something, or was he just doing his job and studying you in this light.

While he wondered what Sunday nights would be like if you were his. Would it be like this? Would there be scented candles, and wine maybe?

Maybe he’d have you in his lap, both of you wearing nothing while he painted, or teach you how to draw and watch you fail because you simply cannot do it.

Perhaps you’d fuck on the couch, or the floor. Or maybe you’d like his real home better than the workshop.

 He broke out of the reverie and cleared his throat.

 You lowered your gaze as well. You didn’t know how else to describe, but there was this pull. This invisible thread which connected the two of you. None of you saw it, but both of you felt it.

 “We should get to work, yeah?” he spoke, avoided eye contact and walked past you.

 You sighed, trying you best to ignore the sudden tension in the room.

 “Yeah, what do you want me to wear today?” you asked, smiling; just like you did every other day. Some days he had gowns, other days he had other props, or even flowers.

 He picked up a pencil from the ground, a few feet away from you and stood up straight to meet your eyes again.

 “Nothing,” he replied, his eyes soft and shiny in the candle light. The blue in his eyes were enchanting.

 You didn’t question his decision, Nat had told you not to. And given he paid you way more than he needed to, you agreed immediately.

Sebastian smirked initially, but his smirk disappeared as soon as you took your top off, then your skirt. You wore a matching set of red underwear that day, and you took that off as well; letting it fall soundlessly on the floor.

Shoulders straight, chin up, you faced him with confidence, and a polite smile. After all, you were only doing your job.

 It was your turn to smirk as he allowed his eyes to shamelessly take in your bare appearance. His soft, pink lips parted as you took a step forward.

 “Where do you want me?” you asked, in your ‘I-mean-business’ voice. You could tell that the question took him off guard, perhaps it was the way you had phrased it. Both of you caught the subtle naughtiness in your words.

 “I- yeah… the couch. The couch, first,” he stuttered. And your smirk grew wider as you walked past him, avoiding the candles and making your way towards the brown couch.

As you walked by him, you could’ve sworn you heard him mutter ‘Holy fucking shit’ under his breath. Whatever, you looked good and you knew it.

  Making your way on the couch, you settled down and waited for his instructions. He handed you a red, silky fabric, which you carelessly threw around your waist; hiding your private parts even though he had already seen every inch of your skin.

Sebastian settled behind the canvas which he already had set up and picked up his pencils. He looked back at you and started drawing and the lines on his forehead appeared again. He looked so adorable when he was focused on something.

Then you noticed things about him which you didn’t before; the bags under his eyes, the little grey patch in his full beard, the way he raised his eyebrow occasionally, and the little smirk after he did something right, or the little frown when he messed up.

You admired him.

 He did too.

He knew your body by heart, each curve and each feature. He knew the exact color he would use to paint your lips, and your eyes.

He knew exactly how to draw your hair, on some days it was messy, some days it was pin straight, and his personal favorite was when you let it down in soft curls.

He found himself fantasizing about you right in front of you. Whenever you left, he often laid on the couch and dreamed about what it would be like to have you on top of him.

He felt the tension in between you too, and he didn’t know what to do about it. All he could focus on was the canvas; luckily it hid the hard on in his pants.

 “Are you alright, Sebastian?” you asked out of nowhere. Hidden behind the canvas, Sebastian closed his eyes for a moment. Your voice did things to him.

 “Yeah, I’m fine, doll. Why?”

 “It’s just, you’ve been very silent,” you replied. He smirked, loving how well you observed him.

 He peeked from behind the canvas, the smirk still very visible on his face. His eyes momentarily flicked to your exposed breasts and then back to your face.

You had red lipstick on today, he liked it. And desperately wanted to ruin it with his own lips.

 Mindlessly, he stood up and approached you. You thought it was time to change the location or grab another prop but instead, he knelt in front of you.

His eyes sparkled in the dimmed lights; soft yet hungry. His hair was messy, and his shirt was covered in paint still, he looked good.

You leaned forward and looked down at him, neither of you minding that your breasts were right in his face.

His eyes never left yours as his hand reached out and cupped your face. You let him.

His thumb caressed your cheek, and this time, you did lean into his touch and felt the warmth of his hand against your skin.

 Nothing had to be said, you both knew what the other wanted. Like earlier, you felt the pull again.

 Sebastian pulled you towards him and connected his lips to yours in no time. His soft lips moved perfectly along with yours.

Your hands left the satin sheet and cupped his face, his beard soft against the palm of your hands.

His hunger could be felt through the kiss; tongue slipping into your mouth without any warning. And you returned the ardor he felt for you.

He kissed you feverishly, scared to let go of you just yet. He wanted more, and so did you.

 He pulled away for a moment, allowing the two of you to catch your breath. He panted against your lips, and so did you.

 “I want you, so fucking bad,” he whispered, blue eyes scanning your face for any objection. And when he didn’t find any, he smirked again.

 “I want you too,” you whispered, looking into his clear, blue eyes which you loved so much.

 He pecked your lips again and pushed you back into the couch, your back against the messily thrown cushions.

You sighed as he slowly removed the satin sheet off your body, and placed it side carefully. His hands ran down your thighs and reached your knees. His eyes remained focused on your face as he parted your legs; inching forward and settling in between them.

His hand ran down your legs and your skin felt tingly at his touch. He bit his lip as he noticed that your folds were damp already.

His hand reached out and he ran his knuckles along your wet folds, making you shudder at his mere touch.

 “All that for me?” he teased, and you nodded, giggling at how the two of you were casually getting cozy in the middle of a messy workshop.

Sebastian placed an innocent kiss on your inner thigh and you gasped.

 “I deserve to get a taste then,” he whispered, face dangerously close to your core. You bit your lip and nodded, anticipating what he had in store for you.

 He placed his hands on your thighs and spread your legs further apart and attached his lips to your core without a second thought; the lower half of his face completely submerged into your dripping core.

You moaned out loud involuntarily as you felt his warm mouth on top of your dripping core. His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance; occasionally flicking your sensitive bud mercilessly.

 Your hands immediately gripped his hair and tugged gently at his roots. Wet sounds erupted from where his mouth latched on to your core, and the sight was just as sinful.

 A man of his caliber, on his knees in front of you, his head in between your legs and his mouth touching your body in the most intimate way possible. Pleasure and an unusual power washed over you.

You whimpered under his touch, feeling his beard rubbing against your soft skin; it burned a little, but you enjoyed each and every second of it and craved for more.

 Sebastian’s beard glistened in the candlelight; your arousal drenching the lower half of his face as he ate you out relentlessly until you were nothing but a moaning, hot mess, squirming on the couch.

“Fuck…” you moaned out loud as your back arched off the couch for just a moment, your eyes closing and your head leaning back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you.

 “Fuck! Come on, baby, come for me,” he whispered and got back to assault your sensitive spot with his warm and wet tongue; relishing your taste.

You didn’t have to be told twice, and the pressure was building up nicely as well. So with a few more strokes of his skilled tongue, you let go and gushed out all over his face.

He didn’t stop even then, he kept at it while your orgasm washed over you; lapping up whatever you gave him. He couldn’t get enough of you.

 You chanted his name, moaning at how good he made you feel. That boosted his pride immensely.

 He licked you clean and kissed your thighs a few more times before finally standing up, admiring how much of a mess you were; panting, and trembling just with his tongue.

 “So fucking beautiful,” he whispered, looking down at you.

 You opened your eyes at the sound of his voice, and sat up on your knees. Your heels pressing on your ass cheeks and you pulled him closer by the waistband of his sweats.

He smirked, and let you, stepping closer to your face.

You lowered down his pants, and bit your lip when you saw that he wore nothing underneath. You looked up at him and wondered if he had this all planned. Either way, you were in way too deep now. And you wanted him so bad it actually hurts.

You ignored your throbbing clit as you held his member gently in your hand. Feeling the velvety skin which made your mouth water.

You gently stroked his cock, and noticed that his tip was leaking already. You brushed your thumb across his tip and heard him groan.

 “May I?” you asked, looking up at him; knowing perfectly well that he wouldn’t even dream about refusing you.

 “I’m all yours, doll. Do with me as you please,” he whispered, his hand cupping your face as the other one brushed your hair gently. His voice was deeper than usual and it sent a shiver along your spine.

 Without wasting a second, you took him into your mouth; pushing him in further inch by inch while he groaned about how good you felt.

Your hand reached down and toyed with his balls while you slowly took him out and pushed him back into your mouth again, bobbing your head around his tip.

He gripped your hair gently and told you how much of a good girl you were.

 His taste and scent was all you could focus on; his strong body wash and his raw taste, the occasional saltiness of his cum and the feeling of his smooth skin against your tongue and the top of your mouth. You felt the veins, and his firm cock ramming in and out of your mouth.

He bucked his hips forward very gently into your mouth, and loved the sight of your spit coating his cock. You looked magnificent on your knees, taking him perfectly.

 You felt his muscles tightened under your touch, and you knew he wouldn’t last much longer. So you quickened your pace, and he moaned your name over and over again as he reached his high.

With one rough push into your mouth, you felt him come undone. His cum trickled down your throat and you swallowed him obediently.

Slowly, he pulled himself out of your mouth and bent down to look at you from up close. You lips were swollen, and spit ran down your chin along with his cum. You were panting; an overall mess. Yet, he believed you were beautiful. Magnificent.

 His eyes were darker, and he was silent again; just observing you while you caught your breath. He pressed his lips to yours and slipped his tongue back into your mouth, eagerly.

You felt his tongue stroke the top of your mouth, and his hands touched you wherever he could; your breasts, your waist – leaving trails of goose bumps wherever his fingers touched your skin.

 Removing his mouth from yours, he stood up again and took his shirt off, and his pants; leaving him just as bare as you were.

And God, he was beautiful. Perfect.

 He climbed onto the couch and lowered his body until he hovered just inches above you. His strong arms supported him above you and your hands gripped onto his broad shoulders.

 He looked into your eyes for a brief moment then his head dipped into the crook of your neck; biting your skin and making you squirm and giggle under him.

You felt his body heat around you, and everything was right in the world.

 “Fuck… do you have any fucking idea what you do to me? Do you know how hard it was getting through this week? With you sat there naked in front of me the whole time, doll, I was losing my fucking mind,” he whispered along your skin. His hair tickled your skin and you smiled, closing your eyes and relishing his touch.

The tip of his nose ran along your throat and right to your ear, where he whispered all his obscene thoughts, making you blush.

While he did so, you felt something firm press against your thigh, and you smirked at the effect you had on him.

 “Well, I’m here now. I’ll be good to you, I promise,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair and he lifted his head and stared into your eyes again.

Fuck, he was beautiful from up close.

 Without another word said, he pressed his lips to yours and lifted his hips to align his cock to your entrance. You spread your legs apart to give him more room.

His hand reached down and he pumped his cock, rubbing it all over your dripping core in the process.

 “I know you will, doll. I’m gonna fuck you until you’re shaking under me,” he whispered a promise in your ear; one which caused the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. A promise you hoped he’d keep.

 With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. You shuddered as you felt all of him, his beard tickled your skin as he kissed your lips repeatedly and told you how good you were.

You heard his ragged breaths right by your ear as he removed himself out and pushed himself back into you again.

You moaned out loud, unable to hold back the sound which escaped your lips. You blushed right after, and he noticed.

 “No one’s up here, babe. Let me hear you,” he whispered into your ear and kissed the skin beneath your jaw.

You let out a moan as he found your sweet spot, and felt him smirk against your skin.

 You moaned again and again as he bit and licked the skin beneath your jaw, all while slamming into you relentlessly; stretching you and pounding into you like his life depended on it.

Your nails sank into his skin as you felt a pressure forming around your lower region. Sebastian quickened his pace and pounded into you harder than before; the sounds of your skin slapping one another resonated around the empty room.

The candlelight made his skin seem golden and you mentally admitted that he was more beautiful than any artwork ever made.

He thought the same about you.

 Your legs trembled as you wrapped them around his waist. The new position was much more pleasurable for the two of you; the tip of his cock touched your most sensitive spots and your back arched off the couch – your chest pressing against his.

 “Fuck…” his voice cracked as he whimpered in your ear. He somehow sounded vulnerable and dominant at the same time, and it messed you up in a good way.

 You felt your walls clench around him, and tightening around his thick member; making him swear out loud.

 “Shit! I’m gonna need you to come for me, doll. Come on,” he panted in your ear, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand.

 He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out his name as you came – hard.

You whimpered at how he kept slamming into you even after you came, and your face burned as you felt the knot forming again right at your core.

Sebastian fucked you relentlessly; not even stopping even for a second. He panted and groaned at how good you felt and wished for this moment to last forever.

 Unable to form coherent sentences, you moaned as you felt your second release approaching. Your legs were numb, and your body moved along with his like a rag doll; yet, you wanted more of what he had to give. You craved him.

A rush coursed through your veins as you felt your mind clouding with lust again.

 A series of cuss words left your lips as you came for the second time in a row, walls tightening around his length.

He bit down on your shoulder as you lifted your hips to meet his thrust; chasing your release. Your body trembled under him as you came again; gushing out around his cock while he still pounded into you. This man had a stamina you weren’t sure you could match.

 “Fuck! You okay, doll?” he asked, worry all over his face as he looked down at you; his cock still buried deep in you.

You nodded, and focused on calming down your breathing while your heartbeats rang in your ear. His blue eyes made you feel safe.

You knew he hadn’t cum yet, and the look in his eyes gave away that he was far from being done.

 “That was… amazing,” you panted and he bent down to kiss your forehead, chuckling.

 “Sure was, doll. But I’m not done with you yet,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning your face.

You noticed the thin layer of sweat which formed on his skin, and how he slowly removed his still erected cock out of you.

You whimpered as you felt a void where he had been, snug into you just moments before. He was right there, and yet, you missed him.

 He sat back on his heels, and pulled you up along with him. Trembling, you sat up in front of him and he smiled softly down at you.

His hand reached out and tugged on your swollen lower lip.

 “You’re fucking beautiful,” he spoke as he got off the couch and asked you to turn around and grip the back of the couch.

You knelt in front of him on the couch, legs spread apart, hands gripping the back of the couch while your back faced him. You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was there – right behind you.

His hand gripped your hair gently, and pulled back just enough so you saw part of him.

 His lips hovered over the side of your throat and his other hand reached around and toyed with your folds; his fingers furiously rubbed the skin around your clit and making you tremble.

You were worn out, and you weren’t sure you would last very long. But he was seductively persuasive.

“Just one more time, baby. One more,” his voice was deep and gravelly when he spoke in your ear, his tongue licking along your neck while he abruptly stopped toying with your folds.

 His hand gripped your hair and tugged on it, harsher than earlier and his action elicited an involuntary moan out of you.

 Once you nodded, frowning at how you wanted him to completely ruin you.

He pulled back from your neck and kissed along your shoulders. He pushed you forward, making your ass stick out against him.

His hand left your hair and he gripped each side of your hips, tightly. He pushed into you without a word said; earning a sinful moan out of you.

He groaned and grunted as he filled you up entirely; your ass cheek pressing into his pelvic bone as he pounded into you – this time chasing his own release along with yours.

Your knuckles gripped the back of the couch tightly, and your head lowered as your felt the familiar pressure forming again in no time, given you were already so sensitive from before.

You were barely able to keep yourself up, and if it weren’t for his tight grip on you, you would’ve collapsed on the couch long ago.

 “So fucking good to me, so fucking good…” Sebastian spoke in a haze, and you barely heard him as the only thing you focused on was the sounds your bodies made when in contact with one another; along with your whimpers and his incoherent words.

The air around you smelt of sex, sweat, the scent of the candles and Sebastian’s cologne.

 You moaned, worn-out and still craving more and more of him.

You could feel the soreness his touch would leave behind, and the bite on your neck, and all of the other marks he left on your skin. You knew you would wear them all proudly.

 With a few more strokes of his thick cock, you felt his thrust becoming irregular, and felt his cock throb against your walls.

You tightened around him, and he groaned and whispered your name quite a few times before coming undone; buried deep within you. His warm cum shoot at your walls and trickled out of you when he carefully removed his length from your entrance.

He panted as he threw himself on the couch and pulled you into his lap. His body was damp and warm, and you loved the feeling of his strong arms around you.

You felt his cum flowing out of you and onto the couch, but none of you minded it in the least. Sebastian was happy with you in his arms; messy, and covered with marks he left behind on your skin – you were the most beautiful thing he had seen.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, and smiled. You had met him just over a week ago, yet it seemed like your heart knew him since forever.

He traced imaginary shapes on your skin, and when you looked down, you noticed that his fingers ran along the stretch marks on your waist and your thighs. You smiled up at him and he gave you the most charming smile you had ever seen.

 “Be mine,” he simply whispered, kissing your damp forehead.

You giggled and kissed his cheek.

 “Sorry, I don’t date messy men,” you joked, your hand reaching out to caress his face, and he leaned into your touch.

He chuckled and looked around. The place was a mess, most candles were melted, paint was everywhere, and he had countless of unfinished work. Yet, even the chaos made sense when you were in his arms.

 “I adore you, doll. And I’ll do anything for you. Just, be mine. I really love having you around,” he picked your hand and brought your knuckles up to his lips, peppering your fingertips with kisses.

 You smiled at the sweet gesture. You were already his the moment he touched you.

 “Think about it, I won’t roam around naked all the time,” you joked again, and sat up straighter in his arms; placing your trembling legs on either side of his lap and straddling his thighs. While you faced him, his hands grabbed your ass and pushed you against him even more.

 “I’m totally fine with that, doll. Just fucking say yes already!” he pushed his face into the crook of your neck and kissed your skin repeatedly, making you giggle again.

 You said yes.

And he made love to you again that night; in the shower, against your front door when he went to drop you home, in your bed where he stayed until the morning.

Eventually, Sebastian showed you the pieces he made, and you were in awe. All of them were black and white, yet all the props were in color. The red gown was painted, and the sunflowers were as well. And he ended up using the one with the sunflowers as his main piece at his next exhibition.

Surprisingly, none of the pieces which involved you were up for sale, as he said he didn’t want people gawking at ‘his girl’.

He kept all of it as a private collection after the exhibition.

 Life with him was blissful, and you loved all of it. The highs and the lows, and laughter and tears, the fights and the make-up – all of it.

 ---

A/N: A happy ending?! OMG who is she?

-

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[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Happiness Begins

Part 15

Chapter Summary: The reader confides in a friend and gets a taste of Valentine’s Day with Jensen

Word Count: 3.6K+

Warnings: Language, suggestive comments

Author’s Note: I don't really have much to say here except thank you so much for your continued support. I love reading your reactions and thoughts, it gets me excited to finish writing. Words can't express my gratitude, xo Alex

Catch up with the series masterlist and check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!

People were rushing down the street, umbrellas in hand or poncho’s over their coats. The rain was pouring in downtown Manhattan. As she watched them rush to wherever it was they had to be, she was thankful that her company had sent a car for her. It was the little things like no longer needing to ride the subway when in New York that she was still trying to get used to. As her company grew, they had been able to afford more and more of these little assets. Which today meant she didn’t have to rush to her photoshoot in the cold rain. It was a good reminder to count her many blessings in life. 

The studio was tucked on the corner, only a simple etching on the window to indicate what lay inside. Her driver rushed out of the car and helped her from the backseat, having somehow procured an umbrella without her noticing in his walk around the hood. He walked her to the door and promised to see her later that afternoon. 

“Ah, Miss Padalecki! Good to see you again.” The receptionist greeted her as she entered the industrially decorated studio. 

“You as well, Penny.” She nodded as Penny came around the front desk to guide her upstairs. The quiet bubble of the elevator burst into the chaos that was the set. There were people running around setting up computers and lighting. There were others setting up the lush greenery for the backdrop and doing other things she couldn’t quite make out.

“Food table is back there with various snacks and what not. In your dressing room is a mini fridge with water and juices. If you need anything else, just ask Kelsey, she is your assistant for today.” Penny indicated a young brunette over by the food. “Well, I’ll let you get to it.” 

Y/n muttered a thank you before disappearing into the large dressing room. There were racks of clothing hung about and lighted vanities on the far wall. She noticed the refrigerator that Penny had told her about. It was all a little overwhelming. This was her first time modeling for her line, hell it was her first time on a photoshoot set. All of the other ones she had just received the final shots to approve with her marketing team. 

“Y/n!” The squeal of her name had her spinning around, her eyes meeting a heavily pregnant Ashley.

“Oh, my! Look at you! How are you feeling?” She asked as she embraced the woman. 

“Like a whale. Everything is swollen and that pregnancy glow is only obvious to other people. I want to die.” Ashley placed her arm around Y/n’s shoulder and guided her to the couch. 

“Well, I think you look as amazing as ever. I know this will be a lot so I thank you for being here.” 

Ashley rolled her eyes before grinning at her. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Are you excited?”

“I’m nervous, being in front of a real camera is nerve wracking. I’m just glad that I get to have a pro here next to me.” Y/n crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap as she answered honestly. She had done small ‘shoots’ for her instagram, but nothing on this level. Here she had an assistant for christ’s sake. Really, she was struggling to wrap her head around it.

“You’ll kill it, trust me.”

“I hope so.”

****

Her morning started out with wardrobe. They went through a few outfits that had been picked out and made sure everything fit properly. The way the clothes were hugging her curves had her wishing she took everything to a tailor. It would be something she would look into later. Then they were set down for hair and makeup. That was a whole other experience in of itself. She was definitely not used to being on the other side of a makeup brush in this context. In the end, it was a good time, getting pampered for once. She had someone teasing her hair when she got a text. 

I forgot how quiet it was around here before you showed up.

Jensen’s message had her smiling to herself. He was such a cornball sometimes. It was surprising to her at first, being one of those things that she didn’t expect from him. 

I haven’t even been gone 24 hours and you’re already missing me?

I miss you when I go home at night…

A small chuckle fell from her lips at his reply. Butterflies were fluttering in her chest at the simplest sentence. It was hard to deny to herself how hard she had fallen for him. And they had only been ‘seeing’ each other for about a month. The whole thing was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. So much more than just her emotions were invested in this one.

“Is everything okay over there?” Ashley’s voice from the chair next to her snapped her from her thoughts. 

“Hmmm, yeah.” She had little luck controlling the stupid smile on her face and it did not go unnoticed by Ashley. 

“Alright,” She adjusted herself in her own chair so her whole body was turned towards Y/n. “Spill.” 

“Spill what?” Y/n tried to play it off, but the blood rushing to her cheeks was betraying her. 

“About what or who has you grinning like an idiot over there.” Ashley’s gaze flickered to her phone then back to Y/n, her eyebrows raised as she waited for an answer. Y/n’s gaze flitted to the women still messing with her hair and she bit her lip. Ashley followed her gaze and politely asked the women to leave them for a moment. 

Y/n took a deep breath, she figured she could trust her secret with Ashley. She knew better than anyone about keeping as much of a private life as you can. Besides, it wasn’t like she would ever have a conversation with her brother. “I’ve been seeing this guy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and it’s been going well. He treats me great, he’s funny and he’s the biggest cheese ball I’ve ever met.” She explained, her grin growing even wider than it already was. Relief washed over her at being able to express to someone how truly happy she has been. 

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.” A look of concern washed of Ashley’s features. 

“I just… I can’t really talk to anybody about it, at least not yet. It’s still too new, we are still figuring each other out.” Y/n paused, her lips pursing as she thought about how to word this next part. “If anyone knew, it could be chaostrophic for both of us. There are people I don’t want to hurt if I don’t have to, ya know? If we don’t make it, I don’t want it to affect anyone but us.”

“It can’t be that bad?” She could see the gears turning in Ashley’s mind. 

“I don’t know how people are going to react, and if it’s bad, it doesn’t just affect me. It affects him too.” Ashley was silent as she mulled over her words. There really wasn’t anything else she could say to get Ashley to understand where she was without coming right out and telling her. And to be honest, right now, she could use a third party input. “I… I’ve been seeing Jensen.” Y/n squinted as she uttered her secret, bracing herself for Ashley’s reaction. 

“Ackles?” Y/n nodded, still timid. “Oh, well now I understand.”

“Are we being completely dumb?” Y/n was practically begging for her opinion at this point. 

“No, not completely. It’s obvious how happy you are, and if it’s going that well, then really, you owe it to yourself to be happy.” There was no judgement coming from her friend, which she was thankful for. Ashley’s words made her feel a little better about the path they were down right now. They just needed a little more time. 

“Thank you, really.” 

“No problem, now let’s go get some shots that’ll have him drooling.” She stood carefully, cradling her bump. Y/n laughed at her sudden change in demeanor. There was now way she would ever be able to repay Ashley for her help today, because to even quantify it would be impossible. 

“That’s actually a good idea.” Y/n chewed on the inside of her cheek as the idea brewed inside her head. She had wanted to share a few behind the scenes on her instagram already, so why not take a few extra to send to Jensen. 

“Okay, I don’t want to know. I’m just gonna go… somewhere else.” Ashley pointed over her shoulder and out the door before turning and heading out. 

Y/n did a few behind the scenes videos and posted them to her stories before heading over to the large mirror. Positioning herself in the light, Y/n draped the robe low on her shoulders and stuck her left leg out of the opening. Just enough skin was showing for Jensen to enjoy, but not enough to make it a full nude photo. She snapped a few photos before picking the best one to send to Jensen, a devilish smile on her lips.

****

Fake car lights continued to pass by behind the boy’s heads even after the director called cut. They were currently adjusting for sound before finishing the boy melodrama scene that would end the episode they were currently filming. Trish had her head stuck into the passenger window as she dabbed Jared’s face for shine. Jensen chuckled to himself as he thought about just how bad Jared tended to sweat, even when it was below freezing outside. 

The vibrating of his phone in his pocket stole his attention. He pulled it out and unlocked the screen without reading the notification. The picture filled most of his screen, throwing him off guard. A rough cough forced itself from his throat as his head nearly hit the roof of the impala. Jensen’s fingers flustered to close his messages when both Trish and Jared turned their heads towards him. 

“Dude, are you good over there?” Jared’s eyes were narrowed as he questioned him.

“Uh, peachy. I’ll be right back, I’ve gotta hit the head real quick.” Jensen leapt from the car, his phone secure in his fist as he rushed to the nearest bathroom. He was dialing her number before the door closed behind him. Y/n answered on the second ring. 

“Hey you.” Her voice was even, without a care in the world.

“That’s all you have to say? ‘Hey you’?” Jensen huffed, running a hand down his face.

“Okay, how about ‘I miss you too’?” She tried and Jensen could almost see the grin on her face. He shuffled around in the bathroom.

“That’s a little better.” Jensen was silent for a moment as he thought. “You know your brother was right next to me right?” 

“What? Oh god please tell me he did not see that. That’s probably the worst way he could find out about us.” The facade had dropped and Jensen could hear the sudden panic in her voice. 

“No, you’re good.”

“Well Jesus, Jensen, start with that next time.” She whined and Jensen smiled to himself. He had successfully gotten her back. 

“Consider it payback for the situation now in my pants that I can’t take care of till tonight.” Jensen absentmindedly adjusted himself in his jeans as he chastised her.

“If only there was someone there who could help you with that.” She purred, her voice dropping. Jensen cursed himself, she was so not helping him right now, but he suspected that was her angle. 

“Call you tonight?” He offered. She hummed in agreement. “Okay well I need to get back out there or they’ll think I’m pooping. And you need to get back to your shoot. Bye Lucifer.” 

Y/n snorted a laugh, her goodbye coming out between small laughs. “Bye Winchester.”

****

They were officially in the dead of winter. February always brought an interesting twist into the winter weather, this year bringing more snow to the great city of Vancouver than December and January combined. Y/n had officially had her fix. It was pretty to see every now and again, but for the life of her she couldn’t understand how people choose to live in these places. The secret was the natives didn’t know either.

The set was blanketed with the gross kind of snow today too. It was heavy and wet and only there to piss off people heading out for a long Valentine’s weekend. She envied them though, at least they were able to spend time with their significant other. Today, she was stuck at work until late. Stupid night shoots.

Her chin was tucked into her scarf as she headed for the makeup trailer. The heat inside enveloped her body as she entered, causing her to shiver in the sudden temperature change. Trish turned on her when she heard the door open. 

“Good morning grumpy.” Trish teased as she took in the frown on the bundled woman’s face.

Y/n frowned even more as she worked off her coat. “Only a few more weeks of this and then I can go home to some goddamn sunshine.” 

“That’s the spirit.” A small laugh accompanied Trish’s words before her face split into an even wider grin. “You got something this morning.” Trish tilted her head towards Y/n’s station. She had been so preoccupied that she hadn’t even noticed the large bouquet sitting in front of the mirror. Only it wasn’t your typical Valentine’s arrangement. It was a tiered vase filled with an array of succulents mixed with a little pink and white flowers that she didn’t know the name of. There was a tag hanging from the front that read ‘life would succ without you’. She reached for the card as she finished pulling off her hat and scarf and flipped it over. It had one last handwritten note followed by a drawn tiny heart, ‘To making it count’. 

“So, who is sending you flowers?” The look on Trish’s face told Y/n that she thought she was suddenly going to be in on some big secret. Jensen was smart though, making the card inconspicuous enough that she could play it off, while still throwing in a her favorite line from her favorite movie that she had forced him to watch with her. She had gone into one long monologue that night on why she loved that movie so much without meaning to. When she finished she was sure he was going to think she was bat shit crazy, but he was only grinning at her. Jensen told her how much he enjoyed listening to her talk about what she was passionate about. It was not something someone had ever told her before, and she was sure in that moment, no man would ever live up to Jensen Ackles.

“Uh, it’s from Ashley Graham. It’s a little joke from our photo shoot a few weeks ago.” She handed Trish the card and tried to keep her face as neutral as possible as she read it over.

“Oh, that’s really nice.” Trish handed her back the card and Y/n slipped it into her back pocket. “I thought maybe you had a secret boy toy sending you flowers.” 

“What?” Y/n nearly dropped her camera that she had begun to unpack. “Why would you think that?” 

Trish shrugged, doing little to hide the smirk on her face. “No reason. Well, except for the fact that you’ve been all smiley and happy the past few weeks, so I thought... you know…” 

“Yeah, I mean things have been really good with the business and dare I say it, spending time with my brother. I’m just happy.” Y/n hoped that her voice remained even as she tried to explain away her behavior. She hadn’t realized that everyone could see how down she was at the end of the year. And here she thought she had been keeping it together so well. 

“Okay…” Trish drew out the word and Y/n wasn’t sure she had her convinced. The door to the trailer popped open as Trish continued. “Are you sure you didn’t get laid?”

“Trish!” Jared and Jensen paused in the doorway, unsure of what they had just walked into. Trish failed in her attempts to hide her laughter as she went back to rifling through the makeup at her station. 

“I seriously do not even want to know.” Jared grimaced. He plopped down in his seat at Trish’s station. Jensen narrowed his eyes as Y/n turned, her face red, and went back to setting up her camera. “What’s with the camera, smalls?”

“Hmm? Oh, it’s for my channel. Your fans are greedy little buggers and they want to see what a day in my life on set is like. I got permission from the studio, I just can’t post the video until after this episode airs. Which is fine because it’ll probably take me that long to edit it anyway.” She explained as she hit the record button. Her doing Jensen’s makeup would make for a good montage later. Jensen sat down behind her, this time his one eyebrow raised. 

“Hey now, they are not greedy, they are passionate.” He defended the fanbase that they had come to know and love. 

“I meant no disrespect. I am one of those passionate fans, I just happen to have an exclusive in and I am choosing to share it with the rest of the family.” Y/n paused and bit her lip. “Before they hunt me down and kill me for it.” 

“Y/n, don’t you think that’s dramatic?” Jared was now trying not to laugh from his seat. 

“No, I don’t. It’s very easy to find basic public information on the internet, okay? Two seconds on the Travis County website and they can find all three of our addresses.” Mostly, she was kidding, but she wasn’t wrong. Some people didn’t have boundaries, and while she knew that the majority of the fans have much better things to do, she recognized that every tree had a few bad apples. 

“Alright, no more internet for you.” Jared teased, the rest of the group in the trailer joining in the laughter. 

“Laugh it up, but don’t come crying to me when they show up on your doorstep.” She sang as she began her work. Jared chose to ignore her, instead changing the subject and striking up conversation with Trish. 

Trish and Y/n had a little more work to do today than usual, needing to make up Jared and Jensen’s faces for a post fight scene. It meant some fun bruises and a couple of well placed cuts. The crew was bound to be in the holiday spirit today, which would make for some good footage for her video too. She only hoped it would help the day go by quicker. It sucked that it was Valentine’s Day and she couldn’t spend it with Jensen. Sure it was a stupid Hallmark holiday, but that was all part of it’s charm. Being stupid and gooey and love sick with your significant other. But she had to spend the whole day sitting in an uncomfortable chair, waiting for the director to call cut so she could fix Jensen’s makeup every now and then. It was moments like these that she wished that they could just be a normal couple. 

“Meet you in wardrobe?” Jared smacked Jensen’s shoulder a little too hard, jumbling the man and causing Y/n to mess up the line she was making. 

“Jared, he’s not meeting you anywhere if you keep messing up my work.” Y/n hissed, spinning around to grab a tissue. 

“Sorry, smalls.” He flashed his sister a sheepish smile as he followed Trish out of the trailer. Y/n dabbed the tissue into a little bit of water and wiped away the mistake on Jensen’s cheek. 

“So,” Y/n jumped as Jensen’s fingers met the inside of her thigh. “You’re… you’re getting laid?” He grinned up at her as his fingers danced further up her thigh. 

“Mmm.” Y/n hummed in response, fighting the grin that threatened to split across her face.

“Anyone I should be worried about?” 

“Um, probably. According to Trish I’ve been super smiley lately.” She grinned as she finally met his stare. 

“Huh… This guy must really know what he’s doing then.” His fingers danced up and down her leg some more as he waited for her answer. 

“God, yes.” Y/n moaned, rolling her eyes back in her head for dramatic effect. She made quick work of fixing Jared’s mistake, patting Jensen’s cheek lightly when she finished. 

“All done?” He asked.

“Yes sir.” Y/n stepped back as he stood up. He towered over her, pushing her back until her butt hit the counter. His hands came up to cup her jaw, his one thumb tugging her lower lip out. 

“Did you like the flowers?” He asked, his voice low.

“I love them, especially since they will last longer than three days.” She giggled. He had chosen well, giving her something that she could keep for a while, so long as she remembered to water them. “Oh, and I got something for you.” Y/n chirped, spinning around to search through her bag. It didn’t take long for her to find what she was looking for and she was back facing Jensen. She held up the large bag in her hand, dangling it in front of his face.

“Holy crap, that has to be the biggest bag I’ve ever seen! Where do you even find one this size?” Jensen chuckled, taking the monstrous bag of gummy bears from her. 

“I have my ways.” She assured him, not willing to disclose her secret. Jensen leaned into her, ghosting his lips across hers before kissing her slowly. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

“Happy Valentine’s, Jay.”

Part 16

Forevers: @spn-impala​​ @22sarah08​​ @turtlepad​​ @callmekda​​ @chaldei​​ @hobby27​​ @casualfestivaltrashpainter​ @cowboysnwinchesters​​ @tranquility-or-chaos​​ @pikabootoyouchu​​ @dawnie1988​​ @grease222​​ ​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @polina-93​​ @clarinette07​​ @moonlight-babeh​​ @suckerforfanfic​​ @witandnargles​​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​ @geeksareunique​ @akshi8278​

Et Cetera: @jbbarnesgirl​ @hillface89​ @arses21434​ @thevelvetseries​ @sslater34​ @mrsirishboru​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @spnfamily-j2​ @encounterthepast​ @facadeformyrealblog  @supernatural-bellawinchester​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​​ @rebeccathefangirl​ @squirrelnotsam​ @heartinmyhead1​ @1d-killed-me​ @samsgirl93​ @deans-baby-momma​ @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @woodworthti666​ @supraveng​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @heartsaved​ @know2grow​ @littlewhiterose​ @surprisinglysarah​ @stoneyggirl​ @carryon-doctor-lock​ @thebookisbtr​ @youaremyfiveever​ @kalesrebellion​ @lilulo-12​ @winchester-fantasies​ 

[najoah]

First Chance [Chapter 4]

The drive over to Incheon didn't take as long as I hoped, and I arrived thirty minutes before call time. I wanted to process what had transpired in a better mental state as the forty-five-minute drive was not enough time for me to recuperate. But Honey, in her flashy red car, arrived not long after. She made her way over and invited herself into the passenger seat. Unprompted, she delved into the events of last night's after party, voice high in excitement. Something about a guy from the event's team being hot. I was barely listening, my head elsewhere.

"You okay?" she asked when she realized I barely spoke. "You're looking a little distraught."

Swallowing the weight on my throat, I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I didn't get enough sleep or something." Diverting to a different subject, I asked. "Can you see my eye bags?"

She leaned in to look at me closely. "Not really. But I can touch you up with some concealer later." She turned her attention to her handbag to pull out her phone. "Should we get some coffee then? I'll look for a café nearby."

Coffee. Coffee. Right, I didn't even get to have my coffee earlier. The part-timer must have found it strange, seeing the two drinks untouched.

My eyes widened as I remembered. "Oh my God!" Hitting my head repeatedly against steering wheel, I groaned. "Jay is going to kill me."

And right on cue, as if God had planned this to be the worst day of my life, Jay's black van pulled up next to the car. I watch in fear as Jay rolled down his window to reveal his soft features. His hair was wet, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, with that damn smirk I know too well in place.

"Fuck."

"So, you mean to tell me that you went to Tailor's Coffee. You got the coffee, but you left without it?" He asked, his tone smug.

I hate it when Jay wins. I am now in the hands of Jay, the devil. His demeanor had changed dramatically to tease my every word. His tone condescending, knowing that I am now bound to him. Sighing loudly, I grabbed the white Louis Vuitton blazer from the rack. "I know what you're thinking," I said as I began dressing him in it, "But something came up and I left it on the table."

"Did some guy gave you his number?" He chuckled. "Cause other than that, I can't possibly think of an excuse as to why you're acting like a scatterbrain."

I ignored his jab at my competence. "I was just... distracted." Distracted was the right word for it. Distracted, distraught, dying. All the right words. "If I could turn back time and get you that damn coffee, I would."

"To avoid disappointing me? Like you did last night?"

"I'm really sorry, okay? About last night and about the coffee." I took a step back and bowed deeply, "I'm so sorry, my dear almighty Jaebum."

He laughed out loud before pulling me back to my feet. "Okay, okay. I'll play nice but only if you have dinner with me tonight."

"Fine," I resigned. If one meal can get me out of this torment, I'll take it. I reached out to fix the collar of his shirt, noticing the delight on his face. "Where should we go?"

"What about my place?"

It was dark by the time we said our goodbyes to the staff from 1st Look magazine. What should have been a one-page interview on his next career move turned into a four-page spread that we were only informed of when the journalist arrived. Jun was against the sudden change, but Jay insisted.

His contract with Higher Music must have turned him into a hot commodity, and an exclusive interview with the newest member of the hottest hip-hop agency in town is a chance the magazine simply can't miss. It's no surprise then they suddenly enough pages for Jay. Typical.

"Is Jay in the changing room?" asked Jun, interrupting my train of thoughts. I had first met Jun a few months ago, at our first meeting with Higher Music. Like other managers I've encountered, he was good at making himself disappear into the background and only showing up when needed. Other than the fact that he was older than me, I knew little of him.

"Yeah, but he should be out soon." I replied. As I pack the clothes away, a question lingered in my mind. "Can I ask something, oppa?"

Jun looked up from his phone. "What's up?"

"Why were you against the four-page?" Despite my dissatisfaction with the magazine and their sheer audacity to exploit Jay's sudden relevance, a four-page interview with a tier one publication was still too great of an opportunity to turn down.

Jun allowed a moment of silence to pass before answering. "Because it wasn't what we agreed on. It is a really great thing but giving them what they want now might be something we regret later."

"What do you mean?"

"They know we can't turn it down because it's such a great publicity for Jay. But it also meant that Jay won't be featured in the magazine again for at least another year," he explained. "There's so many people in the industry trying get onto their pages. Now that we have done this four-page spread, they can't offer anything else in the future. So even if we reach out for an interview, or a cover, they'll use this as an excuse."

"Wow, so it's like that huh?" I had forgotten how competitive this industry could be. Every move must be thoroughly considered. "Are you worried that he won't get a feature elsewhere?" I asked, a little concerned for Jay's future.

"No, not really. He has a few things lined up for the album coming up," Jun said. "I'm just annoyed that they got what they wanted."

I sighed in agreement.

"Anyways, it's not really a big deal." Jun turned his wrist to look at his watch. "I heard you're having dinner at his place?"

"I am unfortunately in his debt so yeah, I am."

Jun laughed. "He told me he wants to go with you. Can you let him know that I left for the office?"

"Sure, no problem. Thank you for today, oppa!"

Jun bowed slightly in response as he turned to make his way out. "Enjoy your date!"

Before I could insist otherwise, Jun was already gone.

[hardlyinteresting]

Gone with the wind

Bucky makes it home from war and finds an unlikely friendship with the daughter of the man he’s working for.

Loosely based on the song “Cleopatra” by The Lumineers. 1940s!AU (I haven’t written in a long time so please be kind, I’m rusty) Warnings: Mildly toxic home life, 1940s sexism, alludes to past sexual assault, mugging, swears

July 1949

It’s hot. Far too hot, Y/N thinks. The ringlets her mother had insisted she wear her hair in have fallen loose since this morning, tight frizzy curls beginning to form at the nape of her neck and temples. She can feel the sweat forming and she wishes she was young again so that she might be allowed to go swimming in the stream behind the estate. Instead, she’s stuck in frills and lace of white and cream, forced to take tea with her mother, father and their guests; her father’s business associate, Joseph Redding and his son, Robert. 

The conversation is dull especially since she’s not allowed to contribute any of her ideas on the stock market or trade. She allows her eyes to wander across the yard to the man her father had hired at the beginning of the summer season. She watches as he rolls up his shirt sleeve for the third time, wiping his grease-covered hand on his grey slacks. He’s handsome with his dark hair and blue eyes; he has a kind smile too when anyone approaches, but he works alone The best mechanic and vallet her father has ever employed apparently. 

She wonders if he fought in the war, like her brother William had. He’s tall and strong--he must’ve been overseas. Maybe he had served with William, maybe he’d know what really happened over there, what happened to Willi-- She’s snapped out of her thoughts by a subtle kick under the table from her mother. 

“The Reddings are hosting a gala, Y/N. Isn’t that lovely?” her mother smiles politely, but Y/N knows the annoyance that lies beneath, just for her. 

“Yes, it is. A lovely way to end the social season, I agree” Y/N nods taking a sip of her now cold tea. 

“I’d be honoured if miss Y/N might accompany me to the gala,” Robert speaks. 

Y/N isn’t shocked, but she resists the urge to roll her eyes. 

“Y/N would be delighted” Her father speaks for her. She can only smile though it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“May I be excused?” she asks, “I think the heat might be getting to me, I’m feeling quite faint”

She doesn’t wait for an answer, instead, she stands to leave the patio and makes her way towards the door. 

“Good afternoon miss,” The mechanic greets politely as she passes. 

Slowing her steps on the gravel of the driveway she smiles, “Good afternoon”.

He is far more handsome up close she decides. 

                                      _____________________________

August 1949

The gala is only a week away and she still hasn’t found a dress to wear.  It’s her first public outing since the war ended. Something doesn’t feel right about shopping for the perfect dress knowing that her brother isn’t with their father at the tailor having a new tux made.  Maybe, if she can’t find a dress in time she won’t have to go to the gala at all.

Y/N slips into her favourite dress. The red one with little white polka dots. Her mother despises it, but maybe that’s why she likes it so much.  She paints her lips with her victory red lipstick to match. Perfect. 

Maybe she’ll get a red dress for the gala. 

when she gets downstairs she finds the car man waiting patiently. Clean white shirt and black pants. They’re ironed and pleated perfectly she would almost think they were new if it weren’t for the repair that’s been made in the knee of them. 

“Good Morning Miss,” He greets with a smile. 

“Good Morning”. 

He makes sure to hold the door for her, closing it behind her before running ahead to open the door of the black Lincoln, making sure the front seat was forward enough for her to get in the back.

“Don’t bother, I’m sitting in the front today,” She grins opening the passenger side door. 

“your father said for me to make sure you sat in the back seat Miss”

“My father is on a business trip and my mother is at tea with the neighbours. I won’t tell if you don’t. Besides, I’d like to drive with the roof down, and how am I ever supposed to hear a word you say with all the wind back there”.

He swallows and nods, shutting the back door. Slipping into the driver's seat he sighs, “Where to first miss?”

“It’s Y/N”

“Alright, where to first miss Y/n” he smirks starting the car. 

“Manhattan, fifth and 38th”

She likes the sound of the engine and the breeze through her hair. Her smile is bright and genuine as they near the city. 

“So, you’ve been working for my father all summer and I still don’t know your name”.

“My name is James. But you can call me Bucky”. “Bucky...I like it. It suits you. Have you always worked with cars, Bucky?” “For the most part. When I finished school I started helping my dad out in his shop before he died. And then the war happened. I’m glad to be back doing what I’m good at.” “I’m sure you were very brave over there, Bucky” she offers kindly.

Y/N talks a lot, but he doesn’t mind. She’s quieter and kinder than her mother, and smarter and more tactful than her father. He enjoys her company. 

When they arrive in the garment district Bucky turns the rearview mirror for her so she can see herself and fix her wind-tossed hair.

“Thank you for the drive Bucky. I’ll see you back here in an hour”.

“Your father asked me to be you escort for the day. I’m meant to come with you”.

“I am more than capable of looking after myself. I don’t need a man to look after me. What do you think we all did when you men were away at war?”

He can tell she’s frustrated. He doesn’t blame her. He knows her anger isn’t really directed towards him. So, he lets her have her moment of free speech. He knows she spends most of her days holding her tongue at home. 

He nods. Leaning against the hood of the car he lights a smoke.  “I’ll see you in an hour then. But, I will come and find you if you’re late. Your father will have my head if anything happens to you”. 

“I’m glad to hear we agree,” Y/N bubbles. Bucky can only shake his head as she walks away. She’s something else. He knows that if steve could see him now he’d be in for a world of jokes and jabs. Bucky just hasn’t been the same since he got home. The dance halls don’t feel as light as they used to, instead, they’re only a reminder of who he was before he watched the world change before his very eyes. The girls aren’t the same now either, everyone wants a soldier, and that's the last thing he wants to be anymore.  Y/N is different. She gorgeous without trying. She’s kind even though her position in life doesn’t lend itself to compassion. He can tell she wants more from life and there’s something about the way she looks at people- right into their souls that makes them want to give her everything they have, Bucky is no exception. 

45 minutes later she’s returned a large box in her arms and a grin as wide as the new york skyline. He hopes she got a red dress like she said she wanted. 

                                      _______________________

It’s two days later when Bucky is asked to take Y/N into town so she can meet with a friend. He’s parked outside the restaurant reading a book Steve gave him the week before when he hears the commotion. He wants to ignore it, there’s always something bad happening in New York and often times it’s better to just turn a blind eye, but a woman’s scream has him leaping over the car door and running up the alleyway behind the restaurant and hotel. 

“Bucky!” she screams again. Y/N.

His fist flies and he’s reminded of his time before the war beating up the guys who tried to hurt little Steve. His knuckles are bloody when he’s done, he has Y/N’s purse in his hand, torn away from one of her attackers.

She’s sobbing when he approaches her, shaking in her little blue dress. He slips off his jacket wrapping it around her shoulders. She clutches his shirt tightly as he guides her back to the car, a friendly hand on the small of her back. When she’s situated in the front seat he takes a moment to look her over. The knee of her stockings is torn, she’s bleeding. She holds her left hand to her chest as she cries.  He’s filled with rage once more, wishing he had done more than just punch those fuckers’ teeth out. 

“let's get you home, yeah?” he asks quietly a comforting hand on her shoulder, she leans towards the warmth of his body her head against his shoulder. He knows he shouldn’t, but he hugs her anyway, she deserves the comfort and she’s sure as hell not going to get it at home.  “I don’t want to go home,” she whispers against his shirt collar, “I’ll be in trouble”. “Alright...well we’ve got to get you cleaned up then.”

She nods.  “you’re alright now...you’re safe. I promise”. “I knew you were brave,” she offers a small smile with her watery eyes and a pink nose. 

He drives to Brooklyn. To his home. 

“Is this where you live?” Y/N asks quietly as he helps her from the car.  “Yes”. Inside, the house is warm. There’s soup cooking on the stove and music plays from the radio in the living room. 

“Ma? We have a guest!” “Steve, I’ve told you you’re not a gues--” his mother pauses as she rounds the kitchen door, “You’re not Steve”. Y/N shakes her head, “No, Ma’am”. She moves closer to Bucky’s side, her hand still held tightly to her chest.  “Ma, this is Y/N. Y/N this is my mother, Winnifred”. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Barnes,” Y/N sniffles holding back tears.  “we’re going to get Y/N cleaned up so I can take her back home. She’s had a hard day”. Winnifred nods feeling sorry for the girl.  “Is Becca home?” Bucky asks. “up in her room”.

Bucky guides Y/N the stairs to the washroom sitting her on the edge of the bathtub. “I’ll be right back”.

Y/N hears a knock on what she assumes in Becca’s door. When Bucky returns he has a new pair of stockings and a face towel in his hand. He sets them aside, rummaging under the sink for the first aid kit his mother put together.  Wetting the towel he dabs gently at the wound on Y/N’s knee. When it’s clean he wrings out the towel before wetting it again, he holds his hand out towards the girl. Nervously she extends her left-hand palm up. It’s caked in blood and dirt, but he can see the shard of glass in her palm.  “I’ll be careful, I promise,” he tells her, making sure their eyes meet.  “I trust you”.

                                  _________________________

It’s the night of the gala.  Her dress feels too tight. The clip her mother put in her hair is digging uncomfortably against her scalp. Her hands are sweaty in her long silk gloves and the scab on her palm from where Bucky removed the glass shard is an itchy reminder of how much she hates the company she’s about to be in.  She had tried sneaking out the back door of the restaurant to avoid Robert Redding who had conveniently been dining in the same restaurant. She knew the moment she saw him it was her mother’s doing, and her friend’s encouragement for her to go over and say hello only lead her to believe that she was in on it too.  Not that she was surprised. From the moment Robert had begun visiting the estate with his father in June Y/N knew her parents planned on having them married. Without her brother around to inherit her father’s company and estate, Y/N would have to marry well, and who better than the son of her father’s vice-president.   There was a sinking feeling in Y/N’s stomach when her mother asked her not to wear any rings to the gala, saying they might be a distracting from the main attraction. But, Y/N doesn’t want the ring she knows Robert is going to give her. He’s good looking enough and nice enough, but he’s dense and condescending. Y/N wants more. She wants the rugged and handsome and hard-working, honest and brave. Not the man who has had everything handed to him, the man who shied away from service when the world was begging for soldiers, Not the man who is going to trap her in an endless cycle of fake smiles and tea parties. 

She can hear her parents in their bedroom getting ready for the night.  Martin her father’s other driver is waiting in the car downstairs. Looking out the window she can see Bucky getting in his own car ready to head home for the night. Quietly she makes her way down the stairs and out the kitchen door. 

“Bucky” she startles him.  “What are you doing out here? You should be inside, you’re going to get your dress dirty”

She did buy a red dress, and she looked like a dream. Bucky knows she’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, but he tries not to look too long, he’s heard the gossip around the house, he knows you’re meant to be engaged to Robert Redding tonight.  “I want to go to Brooklyn” “what?” “Take me away from here please?” damn her and her eyes, how could he ever say no.  “You’re parent’s aren’t going to like this, and Robert isn’t likely to ask you to marry him a second time” “I don’t care. I don’t want to marry him”.  Bucky nods, opening the passenger seat door for her. 

and so they speed off towards his home, where her new friend Rebecca and the lovely Winnifred wait. 

She learns to cook and to sew, she helps make ends meet helping Winnifred with her laundry business. She puts her fancy education to good use and starts to teach. She reads all the books that she wants, she gets to sit in the front seat of Bucky’s car any time she wants. And she gets to marry the hard-working honest man from Brooklyn that she really wanted. 

Author’s note: Sorry the end is rushed, it’s super late here now and I knew I’d never finish it if I let it wait until tomorrow. anyway, let me know what you think!

[kitanoko]

tdmm mafia AU

Note: hello everyone!! im back with more tdmm ...written fast and for the hell of it I thought wow since i’m playing a mafia game...im getting tdmm vibes...so here it is. I dunno if there’ll be a part 2, probably? Enjoy!

Momo is a preschool teacher that had just started working at the school in her neighbourhood. Her longtime friend and roommate, Jirou, works in the same school as a music instructor. To Momo’s dismay, Jirou had tried many times before to match Momo up with someone. “You’re beautiful and smart…I really don’t see why anyone would reject you!” Jirou had always said. Momo laughed every time and told her friend how she wasn’t looking to date.

“Now you and that guy…Kaminari –“

Jirou cuts her off immediately and the round of teasing stops with Jirou blushing from ear to ear.

Truth be told, Momo hasn’t met anyone with whom she felt particularly attracted to just yet. It’s also a known fact that after 8 p.m. no one would dare go out, in case they got caught in the crossfire between the different families of the mafia that ruled the city. Every single night she’d hear bangs and booms outside her window. Curiosity got the better of her and she’d peek through the curtains to see blood splatters and sometimes even bodies being dragged towards the alley. Momo shuddered, flashbacks of her parents being captured, never to be found, once again flooding through her memory. She still hasn’t discovered their whereabouts but surely she will, even if it cost her her life.

Aizawa is a close family friend of Momo’s, once a disciple of her father’s and now a great private eye. He occasionally contacts Momo and makes sure she knows some of the discoveries that he encovered about Momo’s parents. One day, he tells her that he’s been getting some leads but was unwilling to share more than that.

“It’s to protect you,” Aizawa would say every time. Momo was frustrated and decided to follow him that very night. It wasn’t easy that’s for sure, with Aizawa being such an experienced investigator.

After twisting and turning and driving through back alleys, she ends up at the pier in front of what looked like a drug trade!

Momo is standing quite close to the dock, and she was freezing. Should’ve brought a scarf or something, she thinks. She watches closely….Aizawa was across, glaring at someone who she recognized straight away. It was the leader of the Shigaraki family…Shigaraki Tomura.

But wait a minute. Momo looks to the left and sees 3 younger men, around her age, standing there in expensive tailored suits. The green haired one whispered something to the peculiar white and red haired man. They were the other party involved in this trade? They look way too young to be mafia!

In the corner of her eye, someone else caught her attention. A familiar face hovered somewhere on one of the boats and she gasped. Was that…her father? Her eyes teared up. No way. This must be a joke or something. She could see Aizawa having the same reaction and it was then she knew it was real. Her father looked solemn, aged so much that she hardly recognize the gentle eyes he once had. Was he working for Shigaraki now? What was going on? The fear crept up her spine and she held onto a nearby crate to steady herself, except of course the worst situation happens…the crate tips over and crashes 3 ft below where she was.

“WHO’S THERE?” Momo sees Shigaraki usher his men over as the noise startles the crew. All of them were holding guns and running. They had seen her!

Oh no. This was NOT good. Momo rushes down the platform. Even if she could stay alive after this ordeal, Aizawa would murder her!

Momo bit her lip, trembling as she ran across to where she had parked her car, bullets were wheezing past her now. Good thing their aim is worse than stormtroopers, which is saying something.

Her legs weren’t moving fast enough and her ears were ringing from anxiety. Before she could reach the pavement, a car zooms past her. The window is down and the same green-haired man that she saw earlier commands her to go in the car.

“BUT..BUT…I don’t ---“ She doesn’t finish. A bullet scrapes past her cheek and bounces off the car door.

A blond man wheels down the passenger window. “HURRY THE EFF UP WOMAN. YOU GOT A DEATH WISH OR SOMETHIN’?” Momo had no choice, she wasn’t about to get gunned down before she could meet her father again. Mustering all her courage, she hops into the car. These 3 strangers could kidnap her or worse but she tries not to think too much.

She hears herself sigh in relief when the car speeds out across the bridge. A full five minutes pass without anyone saying a word, she knew the three younger men had saved her from certain death but somehow she didn’t know if she should be thankful. They ARE mafia after all…who knows how many people they had murdered?! Are they going to hurt me, she thought, and she finally looks up.

The first thing that greets her were heterochromatic eyes, very steel cold, as if she was staring into a mirror.

“You okay?” The man asks, “Don’t worry, we won’t hurt you. But you better stay with us for awhile.”

Momo scrunches her brow in confusion. “Stay with you?” She repeats.

The blond one scoffs. “Do ya hafta ask, Todoroki? Just drop her off somewhere and let her find her way home.”

So, he was the infamous Todoroki?!

The girl immediately eyes the man in front of her. He was so close she could smell his perfectly gelled hair.

“You’re the boss of one of the biggest mafia families here,” Momo says, “I…I…”

She couldn’t finish. Her mouth was dry and staring at his face….okay he was handsome, she had to admit. Momo was slapping herself inside. He could’ve killed thousands of people in the past year and she wouldn’t know! She had morals. Right?

“You mean, THE biggest mafia families around? Yes.” The green-haired one answers while driving, “I’m Midoriya by the way, nice to meet you. The yapping one is Kacchan.”

What a cute nickname, Momo notes.

“He means Bakugou, the murdering KING of EXPLOSIONS,” The blond refutes and made idiotic hand gestures as if things were being blown up.

Momo couldn’t read the atmostphere at all. It was almost like they weren’t part of the mafia.

Todoroki finally clears his throat and speaks. “You should take my offer. If you want to live, the only way for you to stay safe is within our estate. Shigaraki saw your face. He’ll have men hunting you down in every part of town. He has people in the government, the police force….you name it.”

Momo thinks for a bit. Jirou would be worried if she doesn’t come home…and living with these strangers, how would she ever feel ‘safe’?

“We’re here,” Midoriya says. Momo looks around and sees their estate, bodyguards lining the yard, fences all around. Reminded her of her childhood.

Midoriya opens Momo’s door and she follows the men inside.

The house is decorated with modern art, very contemporary which was something Momo had not expect. Todoroki leads them to one of the rooms and offers Momo some tea.

“Thanks,” Momo takes the cup and says but all should do was shakily place it down on the endtable beside her. She wasn’t feeling like drinking anything. Who knows if it was poisoned.

Todoroki reads her mind and pours some for himself. He takes a sip.

“It’s not laced with anything, miss.”

“It’s Momo.”

“Ah…Momo,” Todoroki sits down beside her while Katsuki snickers, “Can you tell us why you were at the port.”

Momo hesitates and bites her lower lip. She felt herself tremble again.

“I was there because…I was looking for someone. For something. I wasn’t sure what, but trust me. If you’d let me go, I won’t say a word about tonight. Nothing at all!”

Todoroki puts a hand on her shoulder and she backs away. She wasn’t going to let anyone touch her.

“Sorry,” The white and red haired man notices her anomosity, “We can’t let you go. You know too much and now that Shigaraki’s seen you, he’ll have you dead in a matter of minutes. Let us at least help you. What were you looking for?”

Momo breathes hard. No, this was not happening, she had to get home!

“My friend…Jirou, please at least, let me call her?”

Todoroki eyes Midoriya and the green haired man nodded.

“I’ll make you a deal, Momo. You can call her tomorrow, but for now, let Midoriya show you to your room and you can rest up.”

~~

Midoriya takes her to a suite, and as if reading her mind, he takes her phone and leaves her with some toiletries and water.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” he had said before closing the door. Momo sits silently and curls up in the unfamiliar bed. Hoping this was all a bad dream.

~~

The next day proves to her that the dream continues. She had phoned Jirou right away when Todoroki hands her back her phone after breakfast with the 3 of them. She barely had appetite but watching Bakugou and Midoriya’s bicker was entertaining and she had learnt that they were both childhood friends of Todoroki’s who ended up being taken in by Todoroki’s dad due to their parents passing away when they were young. After Todoroki took his father’s spot and lead the group, Bakugou and Midoriya became his right-hand men and advised him whenever he needed. It was almost endearing, Momo had thought, their friendship.

Was she crazy? Clearly she was supposed to be sickened by them. They were criminals for Pete’s sake!

Fast forward. Right now she stands shaking, hugging Jirou in the middle of their apartment. Jirou’s cry becomes a whimper as the bloody dead body lays flat beside their couch. Todoroki had shot that man dead when Momo found out her friend had been held hostage in their apartment when Shigaraki’s man, and not Jirou, had answered the phone. Stumbling inside just 5 minutes earlier, Momo saw Jirou tied up to a chair with eyes widening in alarm. Momo called out to her friend and Shigaraki’s man attacks her before Todoroki came and stood in front of Momo just the right second. Next thing she knew, he had shot him dead.

“Everything’s okay now Jirou, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault!” Momo says and she could see her friend’s confusion through her wet eyes.

“They’re mafia, I have to stay with them to keep us both safe,” Momo notes and pats Jirou on the head.

“How would they keep you safe Momo?!”

Todoroki sighs. “With this man dead, it acts as a warning to Shigaraki. Don’t worry, I’ll have bodyguards watch over this place.” He makes a signal to Midoriya and Bakugou and the two rolls the man in a carpet and drags him out. “They’ll take care of the body. I’ll get you a new carpet if you’d like.”

Jirou could only slump against Momo while the latter attempts to explain what she could to her.

She wasn’t even sure if Jirou was paying attention.

“Relay the message to Aizawa please. Let me him I’m safe and I’ll call him when the time is right.”

~~

The next few weeks go by with new events, one more absurd than the other. For one thing, Todoroki proposed a plan with her so she could still go out in public (with guards of course) but with additional safety measures.

“You’re now my fiancee.”

Momo blinks.

“What?”

Todoroki sighs and repeats again. Bakugou was curling up laughing at her reaction.

“Oh I FEEL BAD FOR YA. HAVE TO BE ‘IN LOVE’ WITH THIS FCKING LOSER.” Bakugou keeps laughing and Momo keeps silent.

“Being my fiancee gets you immunity. It’s a rule. Mafias don’t mess with each other’s family members. It’s unspoken but stands true.”

Momo could only nod.

And so the next several nights, she goes out with Todoroki on dates and parties. Galas become a pasttime and in some ways, she starts feeling….something for him.

No, nononono, Momo you cannot fall in love with him. No matter how nice he is to you. No matter how …charming he is!

Sometimes they’d even do the fake ‘kiss on the lips’ for people to see and oh God, Momo’s mind swirls every time. There’s girls she could see eyeing her like she was a target. There’s no doubt, they want to be the one in her ‘pretend’ shoes.

One night at a dinner party, Momo sees Todoroki standing really close with a woman about their age. She was gorgeous, blonde, tall, overall very model-esque. She feels her face heat up and locks eyes with him as their dialogue continues. Momo gasps and quickly runs back to her seat at dinner.

When Todoroki comes back, she feels herself distancing away.

This is all for show, Momo. He doesn’t actually love you and you’re not his actual fiancee!

He watches her eat and tries to make conversation and she shys away.

“Is something wrong?”

Momo ignores him.

Todoroki scrunches his brow and grabs her hand as she stands up.

“I need to use the powder room if that’s okay.”

“Momo, you can tell me if I made you upset in anyway.”

The girl still doesn’t look at him. “Why don’t you find company with the pretty lady over there. She seems overly pleased to have you around.”

Todoroki gives her hand a squeeze. “You’re jealous? Of her?”

“Of course not! That’d be…that’d be silly!”

He stands up and wraps an arm around her. Todoroki’s eyes were so captivating that in so many ways, Momo couldn’t help but to listen to what he had to say.

He leans in to whisper. “There are a lot of people here. Lets talk out in the garden.”

~~

[javier-djarin]

Feels Like Yesterday: Chapter 2

Ship: Frankie Morales x Elena Bohannon (OC)

Rating: M

Word Count:  5,276 Words

Warnings: Language

Masterlist

(Gif by @little-ms-fandom​)

Summary: Elena comes into town for her brother’s wedding, knowing exactly who is waiting for her when she lands. Her home town is full of memories she and Frankie shared together, and it’s hard to forget all the good times. 

A/N: I’ve really enjoyed writing this fic so far, so I hope you like this part! As always, translations for any Spanish phrases will be at the bottom. Please let me know what you think and if you want to be in my tag list!!

“The sun so radiant, he burns so bright. The moon so luminous, but only showed her face during the night. She was untouchable, surrounding herself with a blanket of darkness.”

Elena boarded the plane alone Monday morning. “The office called this morning,” Liam said as they were packing the last few things. “I’ll take the first flight out tonight or tomorrow.”

“The engagement party is on Thursday. Just make sure you make it then,” she said, kissing his cheek. She didn’t look at him as she placed her toiletry bag in her suitcase. 

“Hey, ‘Lena,” he said, lightly grabbing her chin, “I’m not angry about last night. Frankie just brings out the worst in us.”

She shook her head and tried to stop the few tears from spilling over. “He brings out the worst in you, Liam. I just want to make sure that you’re actually going to work and you’re not bailing on me because of him.”

He sighed and wrapped his arms around her. “I swear I’m not bailing on you. Besides, do you think I want you down there alone with him?”

Elena tried to laugh, but she couldn’t force it. She knew he was right. There was no way he’d let Frankie anywhere near her. So, now, here she was, doing just that. Boarding a plane to go home, alone. She prayed to God that Frankie was preoccupied somewhere, but she knew Santi. He had something up his sleeve for bringing him home. The people around her slept peacefully, but the entire time they were in the air, her mind raced. The anxiety of running into Frankie after ten years made her sick to her stomach. She had no idea what she was going to say to him, once she inevitably ran into him. Elena wanted to focus on the emotions that were at the forefront: Anger, Hurt, Pain. But, in the deepest part of her soul, excitement reigned. She longed to see him again, talk to him, hold him in her arms. He had robbed her of that opportunity when he wrote her a letter and never returned. Tears fell down her cheeks as she held that exact letter in her hands, running her thumb over the envelope. The woman next to her looked at her and smiled. She has to think I am insane. She thought to herself. 

She folded the letter and placed it back in her wallet, leaning back to try to sleep. It was a restless sleep, because all she could dream about was her Sol:

The second David’s car stopped outside their house, Elena ran in, straight to her room. In true dramatic fashion, she threw herself on her bed, burying her face in her pillows and sobbed; sobbing until there was nothing left to sob about. Johnny, her first serious boyfriend, broke up with her. They were supposed to go to homecoming together, but after his summer away, he’d met someone new. 

He’d pulled her aside after school to tell her he thought they would be better off as friends. Naturally, she did her best to hold it all together, because she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her break down. He turned and left her standing there to absorb the pain alone. She walked to David’s car and slid into the passenger seat, not saying a word to him on their drive home. Now, she was here in her bed, wishing this day had never happened. 

There was a soft knock at her door. “Go away, Mama. I don’t want to talk about it,” she said without looking.

The door slowly creaked open. “Mama sent me up to check on you,” he said.

She wiped her eyes and looked over her shoulder. It was Frankie. He was standing in her doorway with two bottles of Coca-Cola, a bowl of popcorn, and a VHS box in his hand. She couldn’t help but smile at him, standing helplessly in the door. “Movie night?” he sheepishly asked.

“It’s a Tuesday,” she said, wiping her eyes again.

Frankie shrugged and sat on the floor in front of her bed. “So?”

She rolled over so her head was just next to his at the foot of her bed. “What did you grab?” she sniffled.

He handed her the VHS box he’d grabbed from downstairs. “I figured tonight would be a great night to watch our favorite,” he smiled at her. 

“You mean my favorite,” she laughed. He’d always found a way to make her laugh. Her Sol, lighting up her world in her darkest hours. 

“I never said I didn’t like Casablanca. I just prefer other movies.” Frankie reached for the tape and popped it into the player. She sat up and leaned against her headboard, making room for him to sit by her. He wrapped his arm around her and held her close, while she shoveled handfuls of popcorn into her mouth and sipped on her Coke. “How can you hear the movie over your chewing?” he laughed.

She lightly elbowed him in the ribs. “I’ve seen it enough that I don’t need to hear it, mi Sol.”

Elena snuggled against him, feeling safer and more secure than she had in a long time. She had always known how she’d felt about Frankie, but she was so unsure about his feelings towards her. One minute, he’d treat her like she was his world, and the next he’d be with Marilyn. However, it was moments like these that she would cherish. No matter how far apart they drifted, their bond -  friendship - was something that she knew they’d never lose. 

“Everything she knew or ever became was because of him. And she looked up to him and worshiped him... with a feeling she supposed was love,” Ilsa said to Rick in the movie.

She sheepishly looked up at Frankie, who was too engrossed in the movie to notice. She was in love with Frankie, and each second he held her like this, she would snuggle closer to him. 

The plane’s wheels touched down, forcing her awake. She felt tears still on her cheeks as she wiped them away. After waiting for the aisle to clear, she grabbed her carry on bag from the overhead bin and made her way off the plane. David and María were both waiting in baggage claim. She gave them a big smile and ran into their arms the moment she saw them. “Where’s Liam?” María asked.

“Work called at the last minute. He said he’ll definitely make it down for the engagement party on Thursday, and your camp out before the big day!” she replied.

“It’s going to be a blast,” he smiled, “it’s nice that the whole gang will be back together.”

She felt a twinge in her chest, knowing what he meant. If only David knew how much it pained her to know Frankie was back. “I heard Santi invited his whole squad,” she tried to laugh.

María nodded and grinned. “David extended them the invitation. So, they all made it down.”

Elena picked up her bags and followed them out to the car. “So,” she continued the conversation, “how’s the bride to be?”

David groaned. “She’s so stressed.”

María elbowed their brother. “Carla has every right to be stressed. Do you remember my wedding? The tuxedo incident?”

Elena laughed at the memory. The wedding was delayed a full hour while the tailor had to come to the venue with a new suit for the groom. “We honestly all thought he bolted,” she laughed.

Her sister glared at her and then smiled, running a hand across her stomach. “Well, he’s stuck now,” she replied.

Elena squealed in the car, causing David to flinch. “I’m going to be an aunt? Oh! I am so excited!”

“Which means you’ll need to be back down here in a few months. You’re going to be the godmother.”

She danced in her seat with happiness, completely forgetting about the anxiety ridden week ahead of her. “How far along are you?”

“I’m at the end of my first trimester. So figure your shit out up in NYC and come home.”

David sighed. “How are things up in The Big Apple?”

“Great! The restaurant has been doing wonderful,” she replied, “I found some new investors so I could finally repair the rooftop and get that ready for outdoor dining.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“Thanks, David. If that goes well, I might have enough to open a second across town.”

“What will this one be called?” he laughed.

“Luna’s.”

María turned around to face her with a suspicious eyebrow raised. “So you’ll own two restaurants named Sol’s and Luna’s?”

Suddenly, the anxiety she’d forgotten about hit her again. “I don’t want to hear it, María.”

“You do know he’s back in town, right?” she said.

“I said, I don’t want to hear it.”

She turned back around and adjusted her seatbelt. “Santi called us last night to tell us.”

Elena felt her blood boil. “Santi can fuck off,” she replied, crossing her arms, “he knew better than to do this.”

“I asked him to,” David added.

She froze and stared at the back of her brother’s head, sending mental darts into him. “You did what?”

He sighed. “He’s my friend, too, ‘Lena. I miss him. So, for whatever reason you hate him, please just put it aside for this week. Get along for my wedding, and then you can go back to hating him as usual.”

Elena tried to feign a smile at him as she nodded her head to agree with her brother’s terms. “Fine.”

“What happened between you two?” María asked.

She ignored her sister and looked out the window, not wanting to air all of her dirty laundry out in front of her family.

***

Frankie woke up at the crack of dawn, just like he always did. Old Army Habit. He walked downstairs to fix himself some coffee when he saw Pope sneaking in through the backdoor. He looked at the clock on the stove and back to his best friend. “Are you sneaking back into your own house?” he asked, causing him to jump.

“What the fuck are you doing up?”

He held up his coffee mug as an obvious sign before taking a nice long sip. “Damn good, too,” he grinned, “Colombian?”

“Fuck you, Frankie.”

“Seriously, man,” he said, sitting down at his counter, “why are you sneaking in?”

Santi sighed and poured his own cup. “It’s been a long night. Do I really need to do this now?”

Frankie smiled at him and waited for his explanation. “We’re best friends. We don’t hide stuff from each other.”

“Fine.” Santi said, taking a sip of his coffee. “That girl I was on the phone with, on the boat? Yeah, well I just went over to visit last night, and we lost track of the time.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You literally snuck out last night to get laid? We didn’t go to bed until almost one.”

Santi shrugged. “Yeah, so? She doesn’t live far from here.”

He watched Frankie do the math in his head, slowly remembering who lived in the area. This subdivision specifically. He remembered in passing that Santiago said various people they grew up with had bought houses around him. Marilyn, Catherine, and… “Oh my God,” he grinned. 

“It’s not who you think,” Santi said, almost too fast, “so don’t even start guessing.”

“You and Rae?” Frankie started laughing.

Santi grinned and looked at his cup, swirling it as if he was trying to “mix” it. 

“How long?” he asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Santi lied.

“Santi, man, how long?”

He pretended to frown and rolled his eyes as if he was pondering the question before saying too fast. “Senior year.”

Frankie’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

“It’s nothing serious. Just sorta an on again, off again thing. Neither of us want anything more than that, really. Especially since I’m always gone, down south.”

He shook his head and took another drink of coffee. “I never would have pegged either of you doing this in a million years.”

Santiago looked at him with a heartfelt smile. “Is it because we all were focused on you and Elena?”

Suddenly, Frankie’s demeanor changed. His muscles went stiff and he stared straight ahead through the window over the kitchen sink. “Come on, Pope. We were just having a good time. Why did you have to bring that up?”

He grabbed both of their mugs and set them in the sink before facing Frankie again. “Because, Cat, her plane lands in a few hours and you need to figure your shit out.”

He sighed and ran his hair through his bed head. “You said she’s happy with a boyfriend in New York. I’m not going to ruin that for her.”

“Frankie,” Pope said, leaning against the counter, “She’ll never actually be happy until you talk to her. You left her a letter and then abandoned her. She still walks around the house and looks at pictures of the two of you with tears in her eyes.”

“She does?” He asked, almost hopeful.

“Well, sorta. She puts them face down when she sees them,” he said as he watched Frankie deflate a little, “but that means she still is hurting. Which means she still has those feelings.”

Frankie shook his head. “I don’t even know what to say to her.”

“Start with an apology.”

“She’s going to want an explanation, and I can’t give her that,” he said, standing up.

They both heard the TV turn on, which meant someone was in the living room. Frankie froze when he heard an all too familiar voice come from the television:

“Play it once, Sam, for old time’s sake,” Ilsa said.

“I don’t know what you mean Miss Ilsa,” he replied.

“Play it, Sam. Play ‘As Time Goes By’.”

Frankie wandered into the living room that was now empty. He saw the light on, underneath the door of the half bath adjacent to the room, and so he continued to watch. Sam started to play their song, and Ilsa hummed along, matching every note perfectly. Frankie could feel his heart ache as he watched her favorite scene. “It’s so romantic the way he looks at her for the first time in years.” She had said to him. “The look on both of their faces displays so many emotions that you can almost feel the pain and love.”  It was such a perfect and heart wrenching scene to watch:

The door to the gambling room opens. Rick comes swinging out. He’s heard the music and he’s livid. Sam continues singing. Rick briskly walks up to the piano, “Sam, I thought I told you never to play…” As he sees Ilsa he stops short. Sam stops playing. Two close-ups reveal Ilsa and Rick seeing each other. Rick appears shocked. For a long moment he just looks at her.

He heard the toilet flush and the sink run, pulling him away from the TV as Will stepped out into the living room. “Are you seriously watching this shit?” he laughed.

Frankie shrugged. “It’s a good movie, if you watch it all the way through.”

Will shook his head. “I have. Hate the ending.”

“He just loves her enough to let her go,” he said, feeling that same tug on his heart strings, “to help her stay safe.”

Pope walked into the living room. “You say that now,” he said, slapping him on the back, “I know a little about women, my friend. She went, but she knew you were lying.”

Frankie shook her head. “How many times have you watched this movie to quote Renault?”

He laughed and started walking upstairs. “Tell your Luna thanks for that.”

***

Elena unpacked her bags in the guest house on her family’s ranch and walked back up to the main house. Her mother, Gloria, was busy starting her usual five course meal, making the house smell like her childhood. She closed her eyes and let the aroma take her back to the time she was much younger. Her father was still alive, and he’d run in behind her, scooping her up in his arms, tickling her as he brought her into the dining room. Frankie was always close behind him. He looked up to Elliott so much, and she remembered how much it destroyed him when he died shortly after they took Frankie in. Elena wished that she could go back to those simpler times before everything turned to shit.

“‘Lena, ¿Eres tu?” she heard her mother ask. 

“Sí, Mama. Huele delicioso aquí.”

“Gracias, mi amor,” she said, not turning to look as she stirred something on the stove. “How was your flight?”

Elena took a deep breath and sat down at the table. “Long.”

“Where’s Liam?” she said, wiping her hands on the rag on her shoulder before pouring her a glass of tea. 

“He had to work,” she replied, “he said he’ll be down before Thursday.”

Gloria sighed. “Work?”

Elena nodded and looked into her glass of tea.

“It’s always work with him,” she said, looking over her glasses at her daughter. She stared at her with the same look she’d see in the mirror occasionally.  The only exception was the eyes. Gloria had dark, chocolate brown eyes. Whereas, Elena’s father had beautiful emerald green eyes that he’d graciously passed on to her. “Is he ever going to come down here for the entire vacation without having to work?”

She shrugged. “At least he was able to get off for the wedding,” Elena replied.

“When are you going to stop making excuses for him?” Gloria said. She felt her pulse pick up. This was a normal discussion she and her mother frequently had about Liam. “I’m not, Mama. He’s an executive for a major publishing company. Life in New York is different from life here. I don’t want to have to defend him from you every time I visit!”

Her mother let out a long breath and grabbed her own glass of tea for a drink before returning to the pot on the stove. “I’m sorry, mija. I just want you to be happy with someone who loves you more than their job.”

“I am, Mama. He does love me more than his job. But taking a week off when you work for other people, is a lot to ask of someone. I’m fortunate enough to have an amazing general manager that can keep my restaurant from burning down while I’m gone.”

“When was the last time he took you somewhere and didn’t have to report into work while you were away?” She asked, stirring the pot some more before adding a little salt. 

Elena didn’t want to think back over the countless vacations they’d taken, because she knew that she’d come up with an answer her mother wanted. Instead, she stood. “Tell Antonio I said hi,” she said, “I’m meeting Rae for lunch.”

“Dinner is at six,” Gloria said with her back turned to her.

***

Rae was sitting at their usual table in the local diner waiting for Elena when her phone rang. “Hello,” she said, without looking at the caller ID.

“Is she on her way?” Santi asked.

She pretended to glare at him as if he were right in front of her. “Santi, do not come to the diner. Let her at least destress before you turn her world upside down.”

“Pope, who the fuck you talkin’ to?” she heard someone yell in the background.

“Probably one of his ‘informants’.”

She raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Are you bringing the entire crew?”

“It was the only way to get Frankie to come. I think he knows I am up to something.”

“Because you are, Santi,” she sighed.

She heard him tell Benny to fuck off before returning to their conversation. “Oh, and Frankie knows I was at your house last night.”

Rae ran her hand down her face. “Great.” She looked up and saw Elena walk in. “Gotta go, ‘Lena’s here.”

Elena immediately saw Rae and headed for her table. Rae stood up and wrapped her in a big hug before they took their seats opposite each other. “So,” Rae said, “Do we just want to talk about it now, or wait until we’ve had our food and you sit there and freak out to yourself in silence for a little while?”

She glared at her. “I guess you just get right to the point,” she said, “I’ve honestly made peace with this week.”

“Sure you have,” Rae said, not believing her.

“I have,” Elena continued, “It’s going to happen whether I want it to or not. Besides, David made me promise to put my feelings aside this week and get along with him for the wedding. So, if I run into him, I have to play nice.”

Rae laughed a little and sipped on her coffee. “We both know that’s all a huge lie,” she said.

She ran her fingers through her hair and let out a low groan. “I’ve decided to just not bring it up,” she replied, “it’s been ten years. Liam and I are together now; I’m finally happy. What good will it do to bring up what happened?”

“You’re right,” Rae agreed, “what good would that do? I mean the only reason you’d bring up something like that, something that has been eating away at you for over ten years, is if you still had feelings for him.”

Elena looked up from her cup of coffee and glared again. “I don’t have feelings for him.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

“I mean, we aren’t even the same people we were ten years ago. How could I still have feelings for someone I don’t even know anymore?”

Rae smiled at her over her mug. “Because you know he hasn’t changed at all.”

The door opened and a group of rowdy men entered the establishment. “Elena!” she heard someone exclaim.

She turned and looked to the door and saw Will and Santi before turning to look back at Rae. “What have you done?” she asked.

Rae shook her head. “This was all your brother. I told Santi no, but he doesn’t listen to me.”

Elena was happy to see Will again. Thanks to Santi always bringing them around, she’d grown rather close with his crew. Maybe he’d be able to keep her distracted and away from Frankie. She looked behind him and didn’t see any sign of him, allowing her to breathe a sigh of relief. She stood up and waited for her usual bear hugs from the guys.

Frankie saw her before he walked into the diner. She was standing there with her arms spread wide, obviously waiting for a hug from Santiago. He stopped in his tracks when he looked at her. She was just as beautiful as he remembered. “Cat,” Tom said to him, “what’s wrong?”

“I - I can’t do this,” he said, suddenly being hit with every emotion he’s ever felt for her.

“Do what?”

Frankie saw in the window that Pope was watching him, and he knew he’d come after him if he tried to bolt. This was bound to happen, and honestly, he did want to see her again. He wanted to talk to her, hug her, hear her laugh. But he was afraid of facing the mistake he had made ten years ago. His heart raced and he felt the color leave his face the closer he walked to the door, until finally he was inside the diner. Frozen in place as their eyes met. His heart stopped and he couldn’t breathe. It was just like her favorite scene. He was sure he looked just like Rick with the pain and love all over his face when he saw Ilsa for the first time. Except on her face was nothing but pain; pain he’d caused by being a jackass. He saw Will beeline for her as he wrapped his arms around her and spun her. Jealousy instantly replaced every emotion he felt. She was his Luna. What the fuck did she mean to Will for him to hold her so intimately?

Elena tried to ignore the fact that Frankie was standing in the same room as her as Will wrapped his arms around her for a big hug. Honestly, she loved it. Especially when she saw a familiar look return to Frankie’s face. Her eyes lit up and she laughed as Will kissed her cheek. “It’s about time you make it back down here,” he said.

“Restaurant’s been keeping me so busy, I hardly have time for a day off,” she laughed.

She saw out of the corner of her eye that Frankie was finally moving closer. “Well, you look good. Like real good. You still with that fella of yours?”

She felt her heart race when Frankie was close enough to hear. “Yeah,” she said nervously.

“Damn,” Will said, “I was hoping I’d have a date for David’s wedding.” He winked at her, and she saw Frankie behind him tense up. 

Elena continued to ignore him as she put all of her attention on the other guys. Benny was up next, wrapping her in a hug. “It’s good to see you,” he said, “We’ve missed you, and your cooking.”

She laughed. “I guess you’ll have to stop by this week for a nice Texas style breakfast.”

Benny winked at her. “I wish I could wake up to that every morning.”

“Take a number, Benny,” Will laughed, shoving his brother.

She shook her head and smiled at them. She walked past Frankie without so much as a look at him while she hugged Tom. “Pope didn’t say we’d be meeting two beautiful ladies for lunch,” he grinned.

Elena rolled her eyes at him. “Ever the gentleman,” she said.

She looked over at Santi, thankful the others couldn’t see the death glare she was giving him as she wrapped her arms around him - a little too tight. “Fuck you, Santi,” she whispered.

He smiled as he hugged her, looking at a distraught Frankie. “Glad to see you too, sis.”

She let go of him, and turned away. But not before giving him another glare. Frankie was the last one, and he attempted at a smile for her. Elena felt her heart race, feeling herself start to forgive him, but she stopped. All she did was nod at him. “Frankie,” she said, before sliding in the booth.

It was actually nicer than what he’d expected from her. So, he returned the gesture and muttered, “Luna.”

Her eyes shot up at him, almost offended that he’d used her nickname. Will looked between the two of them as he slid into the booth next to her, finally putting it all together. He looked back at Santiago who just nodded to confirm what he heard. Rae let Frankie slide in across from her as Benny, Tom, and Santi grabbed a table to put up next to theirs. Will, so as to not give away he knew what was happening between Frankie and Elena, opted to act like everything was normal. He threw his arm around her shoulders and hugged her again. “So, where is the lucky bastard?” he asked.

That seemed to bring her out of her daze and she looked at Will. “He had to work, but don’t worry,” she said without looking at Frankie, “he’ll be here in time for everything. He said he was going to catch the first flight out tomorrow.”

Santiago smiled at Rae when he heard that Liam was not here. He leaned closer to her and whispered. “Even better.”

She elbowed him in the side to shut him up. 

“Luna,” Frankie said, trying to get her attention, but she wanted nothing to do with him. His heart ached even more as he watched her give Will her undivided attention. He was ready to reach across the table and punch Will in the face for ever thinking about touching his Luna, for captivating her attention so well that she didn’t even realize he was sitting right in front of her.

Rae leaned over to Frankie and whispered, “It’s good to see you, Frankie.”

He smiled at her and gave her a side hug. She looked at the sadness in his eyes and it pained her to see one of her dearest friends suffering the way he was. Santi was right: he was a miserable fuck. But she knew her best friend. Elena was too stubborn for her own good, and if she wanted to ignore Frankie, she was going to do exactly that.

“It’s nice to see someone take care of Pope while he’s back home,” he whispered back.

She laughed and shook her head. “I’m thrilled you know.”

He saw Elena sneak a glance at him through the corner of his eye, and he immediately turned his attention back to her. But she’d gone back to looking at Will. “Luna,” he said again, but she continued to ignore him, forcing him to listen to her and Will’s flirty conversation.

“He always is working,” Will complained.

She sighed and nodded. “I know, but I made him promise to leave the work at home before he comes down.”

Benny leaned over and smiled at her. “So, whenever you get sick of it, does that mean I can move into your fancy apartment so I can wake up to your cooking everyday?”

Elena laughed at him. “I thought Will said to take a number,” she replied with a wink.

Santiago leaned in, trying to help Frankie out. “Alright, fellas, leave her alone. I’m tired of always watching you harass mi hermana.”

Will laughed and rolled his eyes before leaning down to whisper something in her ear that only she could hear. Frankie felt jealousy rise in him as he watched her blush and then smile. He glared at him, hard - sending daggers straight through someone he would gladly die for on the battlefield.

The conversation turned to the other end of the table as everyone caught up. He’d missed so much, including his squad growing close with his childhood gang. She was only listening to the conversation, and now was as good of a time as any to get her attention. Frankie longed to reach out and touch her hand, but he knew that would just cause a scene if he did. So, he figured third time’s a charm. “Luna,” he said a little louder, but not loud enough to disrupt the conversation.

She finally turned and looked at him, hurt and pain overflowing in her eyes. “What?” she curtly replied.

Rae was the only one paying attention to them. 

“It’s…uh,” he trailed off, trying to find the right words.  “It’s good to see you,” he said softly.

She huffed at him and finally turned completely to face him. “I wish I could say the same,” she replied.

Rae gave her a scolding look and mouthed “play nice” to her, but she ignored her. 

“I’m sorry, mi Luna,” his voice cracking a little.

Elena felt her chest tighten and she looked out the window. She was afraid that if she continued looking at him that the flood gates would burst.

“I wish I could tell you how sorry I really am.”

Her head snapped back and she glared at him. “Just write it in a letter and then leave,” she said, “you’re good at that.” She motioned for Will and Benny to move so she could scoot out of the booth as she briskly made her way to the restroom.

Translations

¿Eres tu? - Is that you?

Sí, Mama. Huele delicioso aquí. - Yes, Mama. It smells delicious in here.

Tag List

@magneticbucky @wickedfrsgrl @wander-lustbabe @pedropascalownsmyheart @frietiemeloen @larakasser

[angstchim]

Higher Maintenance | jjk

Maintenance Spin-Off 

Hybrid reader x Jungkook 

➻ smut, praise, degradation, jealousy, angst, more to add, dirty sex, 

➻  Rating: M 

➻ Words: 5131

I. Her Doe Eyes 

At the hybrid center, they didn't play much. Soft instrumentals drowned out by the chatter of the dogs, the groaning of the cats, and the gnawing of the rodents. Your ear twitched. Out of all the songs they played, All of Me was your favorite. Maybe it's because your shy soul was lonely. The longing voice of a woman from the 1920s resonated with your soul as your sunken twinkly eyes peered through the glass of the hybrid center.

Nose twitching as people entered. Would they take all of you? A high maintenance bunny girl who needs almost constant attention?

"Hey, there sexy!" Howled Wonho the rowdy buck. Your stomach dropped. He was the worst heat partner. Namjoon was so oblivious to the incompatibilities but he still paired you with the boner buck.

You're ears dropped. Your face hiding between your knees as people walked right past you. Not caring. You were used to the stain of being a less desired hybrid. Yet Wonho chose today of all the days to taunt you.

"Oh shut it Wonwhore!" Yoongi shot back. His eyes slits and the scales on his face glistening in the yellow lights of the center. Everyone feared the snake hybrids. This one clung to you. Yoongi, why couldn't he have been a buck? If he was...if he was. You could only imagine him as a mate. He would have the blackest of ears and a maybe a spot of white on his cottontail. Your fantasy crushed as he lets out a hiss. Unconsciously reminding you of his reptilian resemblance.

However, your ears were listening to Yoongi while your eyes landed on the doors to the center. The bells chimes as they were pushed open by the most ...daunting man you have ever laid eyes on. Your tail wiggling, a little ball of cotton trembling as he walked his way around the hybrids. The bitches whimpering for him. The pussies mewling for him. And the does, especially you thumping the floor for him. Your toes and tail trembling as he walked passed the does.

His eyes black holes as they steal the breath from your lungs, along with your breath they stole your sense of shame as your eyes became moons for him. Your knees pressing into the pillow under you, your hands sitting between your thighs as the rug indented into your palms. He stood over you, his dark hair, his black suit, his shined shoes, his black tie, and his silver watch.

"What's your name deary?" He looked down at you, his eyes looking at nothing else but you. The way your knees pressed into the carpet under the weight of his gaze. You could feel the envy from those around you. The growling from Wohno across the room not even registering for you.

"Y-Y/n." Your eyes never leaving him. His pink lips most intriguing thing. His large hands reaching out to you. Your tail just about to tremble off of you. His hot touch against your jaw and cheek. "You're such a pretty girl." He hummed. "Tell me Deary. Do you like it here?" He bends over sharply, not even a bend in his knee.

Your cheeks flamed. "I-I..."

He chuckles as he watches you trip over your words. "Such a shy girl. So quiet. I suppose that's good though..." He thinks out loud. His head turning to call over Namjoon. Yoongi's hiss lingering in the air. "Sir! How much is this doe?"

"Are you sure you want her?" Your head lowered hearing Namjoon ask that. A pang of embarrassment looming in your heart.

"Is there a reason I wouldn't?" He questioned. As he checked his watch. The watch had a screen that lit up, your eyes standing seeing the expensive contraption. You tried your best to drown out the conversation with the glowiness of the 'watch'.

"There isn't a reason why you shouldn't. Just more of a caution that rabbit hybrids are higher maintenance than other breeds. She has more heats, feels lonely more often, and is frailer than the others. She isn't as lean and flexible as a cat. She isn't as energetic or outlandish as a dog. Shes pretty timid and any loud or crowded area can make her uncomfortable. " Namjoon informed the man in front of you.

Your cheeks blossoming a dark red with guilt and disappointment. The pad of your thumb against the screen of his watch. This nice man was going to leave you. He looked too important to have time for a bunny girl.

"I'll take her." He stated.

Your ears stood tall. Did you hear correctly? This man said he would take you? Your hands gripping his arm with what little force your body could muster. His dark browns landing on you. "Go get your things Deary. I'm taking you home."

Home. A real home. You gave a nod. You didn't wait. You wouldn't wait. You wouldn't give him time to change his mind. Quickly you ran to your shared living space, packing what little items you owned. Yoongi's slits staring at you.

"I'm gonna miss having my little bun around." He slipped his tongue out to taste your scent one last time. "Hope the man treats you well."

You would miss Yoongi. Everyone feared him. Even you at times, but he was a true friend. Someone you would always remember fondly. "Me too. M-Me too. I'll miss you Yoongi. I hope you find an owner soon." You timidly walked over to the cold-blooded man and pressed a small peck against his cheek. For a second, you swore his cheek was warm.

Waving your final goodbye to Yoongi, you walked back over to the tall, ebony-haired hunk. "W-What's your name?"

"How rude of me Deary. Jeon Jungkook. You can call me Guk." He smiled as he held up a pastel pink lace collar. "Chin up for me." He hummed as he leaned closer to you. He smelled amazing. His cologne, it made your stomach jump and your heart twirl. You could taste it on your lips from simply smelling it. You raised your chin for him. His hands were hot as they brushed your neck. You couldn't help but tremble. You felt like melting into him.

"Perfect fit. Such a pretty girl for such a pretty collar. Too bad when we get home it's coming off." He winked and gave your head a playful tap being mindful of your ears. A blush ran like a wildfire across your cheeks.

With timid legs, you followed the male to the luxurious car in which he came. Your eyes glued to the back of his suit. His suit fit him well. Almost too well. He opened the passenger side door for you. The veins on his hands sticking out. They stuck out too well. You felt your fuzzball of a tail twitch at the sight of his veins. "Come on Deary." He hummed checking his watch to tease you.

Your timid legs hastened into the car. He took his spot in the driver's seat. "So tell me Deary what's life like at the shelter?"

Your thighs stuck to the leather seats, your fingertips ran over the smooth seat buckles. "It's alright, I have one friend there. It's a little sad watching everyone find homes."

"I see." His tongue swabbed his jaw as he put the car in gear and began to speed off. Its tires so smooth on the road you felt like the car just slid on the road like butter. "Everything in that backpack..." He nodded toward the pink bag on your lap as he made a turn. "Is everything there all your belongings?"

"Yes." You squeaked feeling suddenly aware of how little you owned.

"Might I ask what is in there? I don't want to seem nosy but I do want to know if you have everything you need to care for yourself. If not we can stop somewhere and pick up a few things before we head home and I show you the condo."

You opened your bag. "My undergarments, toothbrush, and blanket." You looked over at the ebony haired male. He bit his lip.

"We should stop somewhere." He said as he pulled off the highway and pulled into a shopping center. "We need toiletries, suppressants, and a few extras. I got clothes your size at the condo. I had a designer friend of mine tailor them for you, I also decorated a room for you." He smiles. "I just need you to pick a few things for yourself."

You stared at awe at the man next to you as he walked you up to mall. You clung to his arm. "T-Thank you."

"Anything for you deary." He smiled and patted your head. You could burrow into his touch. You craved more. More pats. Handholds. Caresses. He led you into a luxurious perfume shop. "Get me the best shampoo, conditioner and hair treatments for her. Ones that are safe for her ears. Any perfumes and body washes that don't irritate her skin or nose and aren't too harsh. Also, any creams and lotions that won't irritate her skin, or taste odd if she licks her arms. Bunnies tend to nibble on their hands and arms when nervous." He smiled at the clerk as his hand swam in your locks.

"Yes Sir." The clerk quickly looked you over, testing a few products on your skin to test the quality and your reaction to them. Asking for your opinion every so often which you took a few seconds to ponder.

"How does this cream feel to you miss?" You gave it a light whiff, the smell pleasant to your nose. A smell of strawberry and lemon.

"I quite like that." You chimed.

"How many bottles do you want? They also have it in a mist and face wash if you'd like mist." The clerk smiled as she held out a shopping tote for you. "I'd like them all..." You chimed without thinking as you looked up as Guk.

His hand ran through your hair. You loved the feeling. His hand swam in your locks as he gave the okay for you get them all. "Anything else deary?" He hummed, his hand swam from your hair to your cheeks. His forefinger and thumb pinching your gums lightly. His thumb brushing your lips just barely. You wished they hadn't missed.

Once the shopping escapade was over, you got in the car with perfumes, lotions, skincare, and an assortment of clothes and personals. "Let's head home and I can cook us dinner."

Your mouth-watering at the thought of his cooking. You could only imagine his food tasting like paradise. The car came to a halt outside a modern style condo. It's steps made out of the nicest granite. Your eyes rivaling a bug's as Jungkook hauled your bags to the steps. "Y-You live here alone?"

He laughs. "With the exception of my bunny Cooky, it's just me here. Well, now it's you and me." He smiles and unlocks the door. "Make yourself at home Deary." He continues to carry the bags into the condo. Your timid steps in pursuit. Your small backpack tossed onto a black bean bag as your eyes became moons. They glanced over his minimal but neat home. A small bundle of black fur hopping up to your feet.

Your lips pulling into a coo. "Oh my." Knees on the ground you were eye to eye with the little bun. His black collar similar to your pink one. His beady eyes and rosy nose twinkling at you. With a small headbutt, the buck greeted you.

"He's such a gentleman." You giggled. Your tail thumping at the little tuff of fur.

"Is that so?" Jungkook chuckled. Humored by your interaction. "You and him in cahoots already?"

"Very much so." The hello from Cooky easing your nerves. Your shyness starting to fade.

"I feel left out." Jungkook chuckled. "Follow me Deary. I want to show you, your room."

You gave a nod and rose to your feet. Cooky hopping behind you as Jungkook led you to your room. Behind a pretty white door, Jungkook gifted you with a room you'd never once thought you deserved. Pastel pink walls, clothes hanging in a closet, shelves of stuffed animals, game consoles, and books. Fluffy blankets, plush pillows, and canopies. Many spots to burrow. 'T-This is all for me?"

His tender hands tracing your jaw as he lifted your head. His dark browns gazing into yours. "Of course." His large hands carefully unbuckling the collar from your neck. "You don't need to wear this here Deary. Only when we leave." You nestled into his touch. It was so warm. So hot. Too hot. He chuckled and leaned close to you. Your heart in your throat, your lips tingling with anticipation, only for his lips to press against your forehead.

You loved it but it left something desired. You trusted Jungkook. You wanted to be in his embrace. You wanted to touch him. You wanted him to touch you. But there was something there. Some barrier your delicate hands couldn't break. He was untouchable. Your eyes lidded with light arousal as you looked up at him.

"I'm going to change and then I will make dinner. Make yourself at home deary." You gave a curt nod. Slightly embarrassed. Ears flattened and tail drooped you found a nightgown and some panties and clambered your way to your personal bathroom. Using the soaps Jungkook purchased for you today, you gave yourself a good scrub.

Hands in your hair to your face to your breasts, to your thighs and to your core. Your ears tucked, the running water drowning out the noise, cheeks flushed, and eyes watery your fingers entered your core. With gentle pumps, and tugging of your nipples. Thumb padding your sensitive bud.  A heat stirring in your lower half. Pumps gaining momentum and fingers increasing. "J-Jungkook!" Your ragged whimpers lost in the sound of running water, one leg lifted, hips bouncing on your fingers.

You wished they belong to him. You wanted it. You wanted it so much. It felt so dirty. It felt so wrong. It felt so good. Your toes curling, and tail twitching as you earned your release. Cheeks cherry, and legs weak you quickly drained the bath and dried off. "I-I can't believe I just did that."

Getting dressed you made a quick exit to the kitchen. Jungkook stood in a tight white tee shirt. His build even more noticeable now compared to the suit from earlier. His ebony hair was slightly disheveled. He must've been running his hand through it. His lower half in black sweatpants and black socks. His watch on his wrist. However, it wasn't the wrist that decorated his arm, but the veins winding up his arm that caught his eye. Nothing looked better. His large hands stirred the pasta. You licked your lips.

"Hungry?"

"Yes." You whimpered. Not able to face him after what you had just done. You felt ashamed. You lusted after him so much.

"That's good... Deary we forgot to get suppressants earlier." He kept stirring.

"That's alright, I'm not that fond of suppressants." You looked at him, tail twitching. "I'd rather deal with my heats naturally." You bit your lip, your eyes looking up at him. He stayed silent. You wanted him to volunteer.

"Alright. I'll find you a heat partner. Do you mind?" He asks as he starts to sprinkle in ingredients.

Your ears lightly flattened. "I suppose. Depends on who." You tried to drag it out.

"Well, my brother owns a buck who is the sweetest. Should I schedule a play date?" He turns around letting the stove continue to cook. The smell tickling your nose.

"That's okay." Cheeks puffed. Tail stiffed. Jungkook flashes you a smile and grabs his phone yo send a text.

"Dinner is ready Deary. Could you set the table?" He nods off to where the placemats and table wear sat on the shelf.

"Yes." Your drooped ears and feet moving as you set the mat. Jungkook serving each plate. He pours tea in your glass as well as his. Taking your seat you studied him. "Guk what do you do?"

"Like for work?"

"Yes." You take a bite. Your little nub of tail tingling with happiness. The tender pasta and savory flavors mixed and melted perfectly in your mouth.

"I manage a modeling agency."

"Modeling?"

"Yes, models. I run the shoots and manage the girls."

"Just girls?"

"Yes, my business partner Jimin handles the men's management."

"I see. Can I see some of the models?" Your fork led another bite into your mouth.

"I suppose I can show you a few of my favorite pictures. I have somewhere I'm modeling."

"You?"

"Yes, me." He chuckled. His food finished. Your food finished. The two of you sat sipping what was left of the tea. "Would you like to view them?"

Your head began to nod before you realized your own eagerness. "Well follow me honey bun." He cooed as he leads the way to his bedroom. His room a sleek grey and black palette. The decorations were minimal with the exceptions of a few marvel hero chrome figures. They appeared to be custom made.

He took a seat on his bed. His large hand patting the empty space to his side which you more than gladly ran to. He pulled a book from above the headboard. Behind a matte black cover lay an array of photos. He sat on the hood of a car, suited up with one leg propped on the car. His graze dark and lips ensnared between his teeth. Your tail twitched. It was a cologne ad. Next was a photo of his bare wet back pressed against a wall with a very attractive female pressed to his neck. In her teeth, she tugged on a matching necklace to the one lacing her neck. Your ears flattened.

She was gorgeous. Her hair a luscious dark brown flowing beyond her shoulders. Her cat eyes lidded as her manicured hands dug into Jungkook's skin. The same skin you wished you could touch. "She's so..." You gazed at the photo you fingers tracing the necklaces. "She's unreal."

"Evelyn? You think so?" He hummed as he looked at the photo unaffected by its tremendous sex appeal. "She's a bit dramatic, a good model but she's very much a diva."

You hummed and closed the book. Eyes drooping with the weight of today. Jungkook's bed quicksand as it pulled you into its sheets. Soon you drifted off. Soft kisses pressed into your forehead as you ended today. Now you twirled in the stars and dreamt.

Morning came and night left. Your body felt as if it was drifting on the clouds. However, it wasn't fluffy clouds but none other than Jungkook's bed. Alarm filled your being as the very man you craved slept peacefully centimeters away from you. The soft lulls of his breathing, his disheveled hair, and peaceful aura too tempting. Your thighs rubbed together and your ears perked.

Your hands itching to touch.  Your lips quivered as they planted themselves against his cheeks. You couldn't help it. You planted another on his other cheek. "Thank you." Your whisper was barely audible.

"Mhm for what?" He hummed as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. Your heart dropped and the blood ran to your cheeks.

"Y-You were awake?"

"I was."

"Why didn't you say something?" You quickly rid yourself from his bed.

"I just wanted to see what my little bun was up to." He smirked. "What were the kisses for baby girl?"

"Not telling." You retorted feeling very called out and attacked. Ears pinned back.

"Keeping secrets are we?" He chuckled as he sat up. His face closing in on yours. His eyes eyeing your lips. Your tail tightening. His hand searching for his phone. "Oh perfect."

Your ears pricked. "Get dressed baby I'll get breakfast started and after you eat, your playmate will coming over for a visit."

"The buck you told me about?"

"Yes." He jumped from the bed, hand running through his hair as he gave a quick stretch. His muscles flexed as he did so.

Slight disappointment ran through your being. You wished his phone hadn't been close by. You wished that he gave some slight interest in you. You gave a nod and hopped off to your room. Picking out a simple pink skirt and playboy tanktop. Hair brushed out. Pink ankle socks on your feet. Face and mouth washed.

"Come down for breakfast!" A call rang up the stairs. Your feet thumping against the floor as you made your way to the kitchen.  An omelet sat on a plate for you. Jungkook already eating as he scrolled through his phone. "Later on tonight I'll have a friend come over."

"Really?"

"We might go out for drinks." He hummed as he continued to scroll.

"Okay. I'll be here."

"Of course." He chuckled. "Are you nervous for today?"

"No, well a little."

"Why's that?"

"Is the buck...mean?" You hated yourself that wasn't the right way to phrase what you wanted to say.

"Mean?"

"Not mean but... has he ever been used for heats?"

Jungkook swallowed what was in his mouth. Taking a sip of milk before answering. "I believe this would be the first time he's been seriously considering it. Before there wasn't really any need, I believe you may be his first if you'd take him."

Your ears pinned themselves back. You were even more nervous now. There was no telling what your heat would do to the virgin male. A knock at the door tore your attention away from your food.

"Jungkook you gonna open the door for us or what?" A voice called through the door.

"I'm going!" Jungkook jumped from his seat. He opened the door to reveal a tall man with round glasses and blonde hair. His lips were full as we wore a simple baggy tee and jeans.

"She's such a pretty thing!" He smiled at you. "The name is Seokjin and you are?"

"I-I'm _____"

'"Such a pretty name don't you think Hoseok?"

Hoseok the buck in front of you gave a nod. His curly brown hair spilling over onto his ears. "Nice to meet you y/n." He hummed and gave you a toothy smile. His eyes crescents. His tail twitching. You could smell the virginity reeking from him. The inexperience. Purity.

Your cheeks flushed. He was the cutest buck. "Hoseok if you want you and y/n can get to know each other. I'll put on a movie."

Jungkook gave a toothy smile. He seemed unbothered by this. He grabbed the remote and put on a movie. Pan's Labyrinth. Seokjin followed Jungkook into the kitchen. The two of them busy talking. Their voices were a bit muffled.

"So have you had heat partners before?" Hoseok timidly asked. His thumbs twiddled as he kept his eyes on the tv screen.

"Y-Yes... if I'm correct you haven't?"

"Yes. Y-You don't mind being my first do you?"

You eyed him up and down. He was slimmer and lanky but fit regardless. He was so sweet. "I-I...I'll give it a try."

His cheeks cherry. "R-Really?!" He hummed. His ears perked and his tail trembling with excitement.

"Sure." He seemed sweeter than all the other rough and tough bucks you had been paired with at the hybrid shelter.

He shyly inched closer to you. His nose twitching as he inhaled your sweet peachy scent. His own scent of orange mixing with yours. Jungkook poked his head out from the kitchen. 'Getting along so well already?" He hummed teasingly.

You pulled back and ducked your head. Shy and embarrassed. A bit disappointed that he seemed so okay with it. Hoseok beaming with happiness as he called back. "Of Course!"

Jungkook just chuckled and returned to the kitchen. Hoseok let out a small purr. You felt a little angry. You felt frustrated. A short growl escaping you as you grabbed the collar of Hoseok's shirt and slam your lips into his. You could feel his innocence slipping through your hands. You felt horrible, you felt dirty. Hoseok thinking with cock quickly reciprocated, his lips were shaky and his chest was tight. His lips just as virgin as he was.

Your hand gently pulling at his tail. You wanted this frustration to go away. Triggering Hoseok's rut he let out a low moan. A short growl following after. The sounds just loud enough to alert Jungkook and Seokjin to pop their heads from the kitchen. Your eyes avoiding Jungkook's narrowed gaze and Seokjin's wide eyes.

Hoseok let out a whine. 'R-Room Please?" He pleaded at Jungkook and Seokjin.

Jungkook's voice deep, and his eyes narrowed. "Down the hall to right."

Hoseok whimpered and gently tugged your arm. You were ashamed to follow but you did. You wanted his attention. His touch. Yet, your emotions got the better of you. You brought Hoseok into this and you weren't going to let this vulnerable buck leave your bed without enjoying himself.

Feeling a bit determined you straightened your walk and proudly let the buck to your room. Door locked you dropped your skirt and shred your top. "Sit down on the bed Hobi, I'll show you a few things..."

The eager buck hopping on the bed quickly stripping his shirt and sweats, his boxers tight as he eyed your form. "F-Fuck please..I-I can't wait anymore."

"Of course." You giggled and crawled onto him, your hand clasping his, leading them to your breasts. A gentle moan escaping you as he quickly squeezed and latched his mouth to your buds. His licks and sucks greedy as he rammed his length boxer clad cock into your thigh. 'F-fuck you taste so sweet. A-ahh so fucking sweet." He whined. Your back arched as you hand pulled his cock from his boxers. His length curing up and leaking the more he slammed his cock into your thighs.

His precum painting your thighs a glossy sheen and he moaned your name.  He was close. His purity leaving his body as his lips began to stutter. "Shh." You hummed gently pulling away from him. The smell of your heat heavy in the air as you gently pushed his tip between your fold. Ending his cock with the feeling of your cunt. "P-Please... Oh god just put it in. I-I'm begging you."

"Of course." You giggled and slid your wet cunt along his shaft. You could feel him trembling inside you. His thighs shaking and his resolve crumbling as he entered you. You gave a shiver as you still continued to take him. His tip kissing you with its upward curve. Hitting you in a place a cock has yet to. "All in?" You mused.

"Y-Yes ah ... fuck" He groaned.

"Use me then. Don't worry about being gentle. Fuck me all you want..." You blushed. Feeling slightly odd, you wished it was Jungkook's cock penetrating you but you weren't going to ruin it for Hoseok.

Large hands gripped your hips and teeth dug into the mounds of your breasts. A deep needy cry escaped him as he rammed his hips into you. His eyes clouded with lust. He shreds the last bit of his innocence in your folds. Your lewd mewls escaping with each time his cock kissed your cervix. "Ah fuck fuck fuck, you feel so fucking great!" He bites and pulls at your breasts your mind clouded.

"Ahh, faster!"

He lets out a whine and a buries his head between his tits and pushes you down into the bed. His hands gripping the sheets. His tongue ravaging your tits. His head shaking between the two mounds as his dick tornados into your folds. "So fucking tight.. so sweet. I-I need it." His hips stutter as he pounds the bedframe into the wall via your cunt.

Your breasts covered in his glistening saliva, his mind lost. His buck taking over. "Fuck my cock so deep into you. Such a pretty doe. Ahhhh!!" He groans his voice unrestrained.

The sounds echoing throughout the household. Your mewls following in pursuit.

Jungkook gripped his glass as he played music to drown out the sounds he heard. 'Fuck I need a drink.." His phone lighting up. 'Are we still heading out tonight?' He gave a low grunt as he remembered his plans. Slipping on casual clothes left. "Seokjin once they are done take Hoseok home. Tell y/n I'll be home around midnight."

"Sure..." Seokjin twitched uncomfortably as the echos continue.

Hoseok throws his head back as he slides out from your folds. He paints your thigh white, his chest heaving. "I was missing out all along.." He chuckled.

You gave a giggle. "I suppose so." You got dressed. "Shower quickly and go to the living room." Your stomach sank as you exited the room. With no pride to face Jungkook, you headed to your room to shower. Hearing the door to Hoseok's room shut you felt like it was time to head out and face Jungkook. "J-Jungkook?" You called out to the living room.

Seokjin sat on the couch. "Jungkook had plans with someone tonight so he left earlier... He said he'd back around midnight or so.." Seokjin avoided your gaze.

"O-oh... I'll wait up for him."

"If that's what you want." Seokjin smiled as he nodded to Hoseok. "We will get going."

You gave a nod and waved. Your ears dropping as soon as they left you. Putting on a movie once more you sat, alone and feeling regretful. Did you drive Jungkook away? Does he hate you? Is he upset? Will he take you back to the shelter? Was fucking Hoseok too much? Your stomach brewed with the worst thoughts and feelings. The stress too much it knocked the energy out of you. Your eyelids the heaviest of weights as you sat on that couch contemplating your actions today.

A jingling of keys makes your ear awaken before you do. Hands rubbing your eyes as you peered at the door from the dark living room, the dim tv light your only way of getting a look at the door. A hiccup can be heard from the door as it opens. Jungkook flushed pink as he leaned over the back of the most beautiful female. The one from the pictures. Your heart sank as he lay drunk his arms around her neck, his face in her shoulder.

"Geez, why did you drink so much?!" She groaned at him. Her eyes narrowing in on you. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

[et-lesailes]

lily white in blood red // chapter one

prologue

pairing: curtis everett x reader

word count: 1750

series summary: you are a part of the upper-middle section aboard snowpiercer, but you do not agree with the classist views of the people you are surrounded by. when the infamous curtis everett reaches your part of the train, you decide you want to join him in overthrowing the train’s misguided inventor– while curtis agrees to let you join, he has other plans in mind.

series themes: angst, romance, obsession, fighting/bloodshed, smut

chapter summary: reader meets curtis for the first time.

taglist:  @viarogers , @evanstush , @chibi-crazy , @chalamet-evans , @world-of-losers ,@songforhema, @sebabestianstan101 , @tanyam93 , @bval-1, @wonderwinchester ,@little-miss-exo, @poerebel , @bitchbabes-world , @gogomez-509 , @patzammit, @jbug491, @honeyloverogers​, @fatbottomedcurls​, @whores4thor​, @jennmurawski13​,@angrybirdcr, @mcueveryday, @scooby-doodoo, @peach-acid, @tansypoisoning,@quaiderade, @a-distantdreamer, @malthestorytellerblog, @rainbowkisses31,@melannie77, @gigistorm

notes: would just like to add that in the movie, curtis has been on earth for 17 years and on snowpiercer for 17. seeing that the reader is a train baby, following this logic would make her underage, and so for the purpose of this story, the numbers work out a little differently and i want to make it clear that reader is not a minor. however, i left it slightly up to interpretation how old she really is, just so it can be more relatable for anyone who’s reading! also shoutout to @allthefandomstogether​ for THIS BEAUTIFUL GRAPHIC, thank you so much love!!!  ♡

** if you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask! if you would like to be removed from this series, please don’t hesitate to let me know. :)

You do not have a lot of time to look at him. One of your fellow middle sectioners steps up right in between you and the revolution leader, ready to kill. Everything is happening so fast, it suddenly feels like your body is acting without your brain.

Your knife goes right into his neck, but it’s not Curtis’. 

The middle sectioner you had once called a friend is now dead at your feet from your own doing, his blood splattered across smooth skin and white lace. 

Perhaps there was a time in Curtis’ life where he was carefree, cheerful, naive. Surely he must have been as a little boy, at least, considering he had nearly two decades on Earth before everything became utter chaos. Before Snowpiercer.

Now, Curtis is a rugged and grizzly man, completely hardened from his years on board. The only thing on his mind for years now has been the revolution. The plan to battle his way to the front. He has no time to think of anything or anyone else, save for his team. 

Or so he thought, anyways, until he lays eyes on you for the first time, slightly shocked upon witnessing the betrayal of one upper class passenger towards another. 

At first, he only sees your face. Beautiful eyes looking back at his, round with innocence. Healthy roseate lips, a feature simple yet so rare in the tail section due to the grime and dryness in the air. Clean, smooth, flawless skin; he cannot even see a single raised swell or tiny mark. He had forgotten that people looked like this. During the past few days of fighting his way to the front of the train, he did not bother to look at the people he was brutally murdering. It had nothing to do with guilt. He simply does not think they are even worth an inch of space in his mind, and therefore their faces do not even have to be glanced at.

As he stares at you, he is suddenly thankful that he did not apply his usual technique to this situation. 

His eyes drift down, only to linger upon the thin alabaster lace adorning your figure. He is not sure why his eyebrows furrow upon seeing such ivory stained with vermilion, as if he himself is not covered in it. Then again, there is a difference; his layers of ratty, misfitting clothes were already sullied to begin with-- while morbid, adding blood to the material did not do much damage compared to what had already been done. You, however…

He decides almost immediately that there should never be even a drop of crimson upon your skin or your clothing ever again. Nor should you ever use such a weapon again, or even hold one. 

There is silence for a few moments. Edgar and the others have helped kill off the rest. You are the only middle sectioner standing, you are the one closest to the door of the next cart. You still have your knife in your hand, but it is relaxed by your side. You are a bit shaken up, but you do not look nervous of them. 

The only people Curtis has truly cared about for a while now are Gilliam, Edgar, and Tanya. No one else fazes him, no one else has ever had a deep enough impact. When he sees you, something changes. It almost feels like instinct. 

“Why did you do that?” he asks, body still naturally tense nonetheless. He does not understand what business an upper-middle sectioner has killing one of their own, but he is genuinely intrigued. 

“Are you Curtis?” you ask, and he feels slammed in the windpipe upon hearing your voice. Soft and sweet, just like that look in your eyes-- despite the fact you just killed a man. “Yes.” He answers, eyes locked onto yours. “You know me?”

“Of course… Everyone knows you. The man who’s starting a revolution. You’re trying to get to the front.”

“Then why did you help me just now?” he asks, though more curious than suspicious. He does not want to be suspicious of you. He can’t imagine you as deceitful or crooked. Not you. He already has an entire image of you in his head without even knowing your name, without even having known you for more than one minute.

You let yourself look at him for a few moments, feeling oddly relaxed. He is definitely not a sight you are used to, yet for some reason, you already feel strangely secure around him. “In school they taught us to hate the tail section,” you admit softly, looking towards the darkness of the cold night outside the windows. “That they don’t deserve the privileges and rights we get. That there has to be a balance, and so they don’t get showers or real food or nice clothes since we do.” You glance down at your light and dainty apparel before returning your eyes to his. “But I don’t think that seems right.” 

“You’re fuckin’ right, it’s not,” Edgar pipes up in a strong Irish accent, and your eyes dart to him in curiosity. “But are you only saying that so we spare your life? Because in that case, you can join your friends here lying on the-”

Curtis silences him with a mere movement of his hand, holding it outspread towards the younger’s direction in a gesture to shush him. You are not sure whether to be impressed or nervous that it works so instantly. You look up to those ice cold eyes again, wondering what he’ll say. You know that his friend has every right to feel wary. You can’t even imagine the twisted things the front sectioners have subjected them to; you quite literally do not know what they are, because such topics are not discussed. “I want to fight,” you suddenly say, and Curtis blinks. “I want to join the revolution, I want to help you guys.” You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, and while it feels a bit unsettling, you continue standing your ground as you look up at the team leader. 

Curtis has never met someone like you before, not even on Earth. He has never been so interested in someone, so damn fascinated. Perhaps it is because he is a man- a man who has been deprived of something quite a lot of men on this world need. Though, in truth, he really has not thought about sex in the past few years. In such grim living conditions, it is not particularly a priority of his. Perhaps he’s been a little too obsessive over his scheme of revolution, but it isn’t as though there are many viable options when it comes to women in the tail section. They are just as broken and battered as he-- if anything, sleeping with them may only result in even more melancholy. 

No, he decides, still studying you intently. That is not the reason he is so enticed. At least, not the whole reason, if his subconscious has something to do with it. You have a countenance he’s never quite seen before-- or at least, in a very long time. You are not broken or battered, nor are you strong and secure. You have guts, that is for sure, but in your figure standing before him, he sees something that is incredibly rare to come by on Snowpiercer. 

Immaculacy. Purity. Naivete. Gullibility. 

He sees lily white, and it is stained by blood red. In this moment, he realizes he has another job at hand entirely. 

“You’ll come with us,” he decides, and you slowly exhale as you look to the floor. “But you won’t fight.”

“What?” Your head snaps up, and he is expecting indignance, but all he sees is confusion and perplexity. 

He is even more captivated than before. 

“You won’t fight.” He repeats, then looks around, a sense of urgency in his features. “Where do you keep your clothes? Are they here?” You slowly nod your head, pointing to the drawer underneath your bed compartment. Your clothes are custom made for you, and rotated out every now and then with new items added to the mix made by the train’s tailors, based on your style. “Change.” He demands simply, and you’re even more puzzled than before. “I-it’s just a little bit of blood, it’s not a-”

“I said change.” 

You obey instantly, upset with yourself for even responding in the first place. You lean over to open the drawer, wondering what to wear. The tailors haven’t exactly made you an outfit suited for battle and bloodshed. He sees you pausing and speaks again. “Something like what you’re wearing will do just fine. Do you have another one?” You blink, not exactly having pictured yourself participating in the revolution dressed in a nightie, but you do not want to argue. You pick up a red one and he instantly shakes his head. “Not red.” You look up at him, trying your best to read him but put it back, biting your lip. “What color, then?”

“White.” 

You’re thankful you happen to have another one, unsure how he would react if you didn’t. One day you will ask him why this matters so much, but today is not that day. You need him to trust you. “Can you, uh, turn around, maybe?” you ask shyly, and he nods his head, turning away and giving a look to the others to do the same; they are looking at him just as baffled as you are, even slightly judgmental, but they comply. It still feels awkward anyways, but you quickly slip out of your stained apparel and change into the fresh one. “Okay, I’m ready.” He turns back around and shakes his head. “Not yet.”

Stepping closer, he pulls the sleeve of his thick jacket over his hand, reaching out carefully to wipe the drying blood off your upper chest. It is still fresh enough that no water is necessary, yet he swipes his tongue over his thumb and rubs your collarbones with it, his eyes focused. 

From now on, he wants this white lace completely preserved, and he will do whatever it takes to keep it that way. “What’s your name?” he asks you, and you make eye contact with him again, a slight blush on your cheeks. “Y/N,” you answer softly, and he lets the brand roll off his tongue. 

He isn’t sure how something can sound so right.

[dawnwave16]

Whiplash

Ok first a little note here:  1) I know next to nothing about Asian culture so I have tried to be as respectful as possible while writing this, however, I probably got things wrong so please forgive me.  2) I have not been feeling well so everything feels a bit scattered in this story but I felt I should post it rather then delete the whole thing like I was planning on doing. 3) This is a messy one-shot and unlike my other stories I don't have any follow up head cannons for this so no amount of begging will get a sequal!

Marinette was excited, in less than 14 hours she would be landing in Singapore for her first visit since she was a little girl. Currently, she was sitting in the first-class lounge having completed all the preflight check-ins that she needed to do. Her sketchbook was on her lap and her phone was next to her as she was chatting to her cousin online about the plans for while she was there. She was so busying with what she was doing that she failed to notice when three other people walked into the flight lounge and one sat down next to her.

“Hey, Mari, what you doing here?” 

Marinette jumped and her sketchbook fell to the floor, reaching to reclaim it she glanced to where the voice had come from. Adrien, of course, it was Adrien. She hadn't spoken to him much since Lila had joined her class but she still had her massive crush on him. How could she not? Sure he hadn't stood by her side as he's promised he would but with his father controlling almost everything in Adrien's life, it would have taken a miracle for him to be able to back her up publically. She did think that he was a little too much of a pacifist but nobody was perfect.

“Hi, Adrien, waiting for my flight to be announced. I'm visiting for one of my cousin's weddings. It's going to be absolutely amazing, provided the fights stay at a minimum.” Marinette said calmly.

“Whose wedding, Mlle Dupain-Cheng?” Nathalie inquired. As her tablet was already in her hands Marinette guessed that Nathalie would be doing a google search of whichever name Marinette gave her. 

“Nobody you would know,” Marinette replied calmly. 

“Are your parents not attending the wedding?” Mr Agreste asked. Probably trying to get dirt to show Adrien how unsuited I am to even be his friend. Marinette thought sardonically.

“They will attend the wedding and stay for a week after it, however, the wedding is in over a months time and my cousin has asked for my assistance with final fittings and details that she might have missed. It helps that I'm one of her bridesmaids so I would have been heading over soon anyway.” Marinette replied, downplaying her role in the wedding as well as what she was really going to be doing. After all, she was the one who had designed all the dresses and suits for the wedding and she was the maid of honour. She had to make sure the bachelorette party ran smoothly ontop of everything else too.

Suddenly her phone went mad. Marinette grabbed it and looked at who was trying to get hold of her then answered and spoke in rapid-fire Chinese to the person on the other end. While all three people with her were capable of speaking Chinese, they were soon lost. She was speaking way too fast and in a dialect that they were not familiar with. The call didn't last long but it was clear to Adrien and his father that Marinette wasn't happy about something.

“What's wrong?” Adrien asked genuine curiosity shining in his eyes.

“Oh, just one of the aunts demanding that my cousin include their child in the wedding party. It's not my decision and as my cousin has already said no there is not much I can do about it.” Marinette closed her eyes and groaned as she flopped back into her seat, “This is going to get worse as the day draws closer, I just know it!”

Mr Agreste exchanged a glance with Nathalie and was about to say something more, probably to ask about how Marinette could afford first-class tickets when an air stewardess walked over to her.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng? It's time for you to board.”

Marinette gathered her things and stood up to follow her. For the first time, the three that had joined her in the flight lounge took a look at what she was wearing. For anyone who didn't know fashion, Marinette's outfit would look just like any other 18-year-olds. To those who were in the fashion industry, however, they could see that her stressed jeans were designer and not worn from age. Her blouse was tailored to her perfectly and her shoes, while slightly worn, were expensive. This led to three very confused people. How could Marinette afford all of the designer clothes? How was she in first-class to begin with? Weren't her parents bakers? It made no sense to them at all.

Marinette was well aware of the turmoil that she had left her former classmate and his designer of a father in. She also knew that Nathalie was in no better state than the two men as she would be the one that had to look up all the answers to their questions. The truth was simple though well hidden and no matter how hard Nathalie searched she wouldn't be able to find it. After all, who would suspect that Sabine Cheng came from a family that owned Billions and Sabine had left for Paris after she and Tom had married so that Marinette would have a more normal childhood. They lived on way less money then what they had but invest wisely anyway, to the point that Marinette owned her own fashion empire, under her real name, and she was the lead designer for it. 

Marinette was safely in her seat with a glass of champaign when the Agreste's boarded. Her nose was buried in her sketchbook again and her phone was connected to the sound system that was playing her music while she designed. At that moment she had Machine Heart by Miracle of Sound feat Sharm playing and her pencil was flying across her page. As they watched the song changed and Marinette gave a small smile before carrying on with her designing. Mr Agreste decided to be a little more curious about what she was designing and realised that it out-did even his latest line in terms of style despite being a rough draft. He couldn't help but think that she would be better then him someday and wondered if he should try and offer her an internship before one of his competitors snatched her up. 

Adrien, on the other hand, couldn't help but smile as he watched her. She was so lost in her own world that even as she took a sip of her drink her eyes didn't leave the page. The cute frown she almost always wore when thinking was there and he felt a pang of longing flash through him. He'd always had a crush on her even though he had masked it by pretending to be hung up on Ladybug. In the countless interviews he'd had to endure, he had put up a facade of indifference whenever his love life had come under the microscope, something his father had approved of but something he had hated. His classmate was perfect as far as he was concerned, especially after she had stopped stuttering and getting muddled up in his presence. He found her intelligent and witty to go along with how kind she was. Sure she was quick to jump to conclusions but she was equally quick to forgive and try move past what had been done wrong. She had even understood why he could never stand up to Chloe and to Lila despite how uncomfortable they made him. 

His smile grew us Marinette started to sing along to the current song, Broken Arrows by Avicii if he guessed correctly. He voice was soft yet so full of joy and hope. There was a touch of pain every now and then as well but as far as Adrien could hear, the overtone in her voice was hope. He had always liked the song so he took the time to enjoy her singing. Or he tried to anyway. His father called for him to catch up when he had decided Adrien had lagged behind long enough, almost like he thinks I'm an errant puppy was Adrien slightly cynical thought as that happened.

Soon enough they were in the air and Adrien was bored. He looked at Nathalie and his father and saw they were occupied with something so he decided to look at what games or apps were on the little in-flight entertainment system in front of him. He was exceptionally grateful to find a messaging app that allowed you to chat to your fellow passengers and immediately tracked down Marinette's seat number and sent her a message, hoping that she wasn't asleep. She wasn't if the slight jump he saw from her was any indication. They chatted for three hours before she dozed off and he did the same. After they were woken for food and they had eaten, they started talking again, however, Adrien never thought to ask about how she could be in first class, nor about the preferential treatment, she was receiving. At one point his father tried to get him to ask but Adrien refused if Marinette wanted to tell him she would.

It wasn't long after their flight landed that he lost sight of her but he knew Nathalie had both his father and himself on an extremely tight schedule for the first few days. After all, he was walking the catwalk for someone other than Gabriel for the first time ever and they wanted to make sure everything ran like clockwork.

 Marinette, on the other hand, had disappeared to the butterfly house as she wanted to visit it before she dived headlong into the madness that was preparing for a massive fashion show on top of all the wedding preparations for her cousin. At least the bachelorette party was planned and ready, even if the final numbers were not confirmed yet. Hopefully, that would happen soon! After an hour of exploring the butterfly house and gaining countless ideas for designs, she headed down to where she had been told a car would be waiting for her. She headed straight to the family home, where she was greeted by her grandmother's overly enthusiastic caramel coloured and perfectly groomed Pekingese, Mǔdān (Peony), the youngest of the six that her grandmother owned. All for were kept in the perfect condition for showing and yet every single one of them were completely spoiled as they were all extremely friendly even if they were highly protective of the family. It seemed that despite not seeing Mǔdān since she was a puppy, she still remembered her and was all too eager for the cuddles that Marinette would willingly provide. After greeting her family and having a quick meal and shower, Marinette decided to have a proper sleep to get over her jet lag.

When Marinette woke up again it was early in the morning and she was trapped in her bed by all six of her grandmother's Pekingese who had apparently decided she hadn't given them enough attention the previous day. To her dismay she found that she needed to shower again as she was covered in dog fur and sweat due to the dogs, so she reluctantly shooed the dogs away from the bed and had another quick shower. She was glad she had let her hair grow out over the past few years but she knew she was going to be cursing her hair by the end of her trip. To save herself the hassle of properly dring it she made sure that she didn't get her hair wet and after her shower, she threw her hair into a messy bun. She knew she would have to head to the office today as she needed to go over all the preparations for the show so she headed down to the dining room to ask if she could borrow one of the cars or if a driver had been assigned to her for during her stay. As she spoke to her aunt about that she managed to remember to eat a light breakfast and have lunch packed for her so that she didn't have to worry about that later.

Once Marinette got to the office, having followed the GPS as a precaution, she quickly made her way to the main design floor. She received multiple greetings along the way and she cheerfully waved back, making sure to greet all those she knew by name and learning the names of anyone new. Her first order of business once she reached her studio office was going over the music selection for the runway show. She decided to make a statement to the fashion world with the first song and made it “One Girl Revolution – Battle Mix by Superchick and work her way from there. Some of what she chose was a little on the heavy side but she was making a statement with every song she chose. This show was the one where she would finally be throwing away the fake name of Marinette Dupain-Cheng and revealing herself to be Nettie Chang. As she was working she heard a knock on her door and thinking it was one of the assistants called an absent-minded “Come in” without looking up at all. A shocked voice saying her name made her look up sharply.

“Mr Agreste, Nathalie, Adrien to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you all today?” Marinette asked calmly, masking her surprise with practised ease that would shock her classmates if they knew. Years of being Ladybug and training for her identity reveal with her family helping her at that moment.

“Adrien is meant to be making his international catwalk debut with the show that Píngguǒ huā Designs (Apple Blossom Designs) is hosting in a week. We were directed here to meet with the lead designer to make sure that everything was properly fitted. May I ask why you are in here? Are you interning with them?” Mr Agreste was hoping that her answer to his final question was no as he didn't want to compete against her in the fashion arena. 

Marinette smiled as she saw that all three of her guests were waiting with bated breath for her answer and was about to do so when one of the younger seamstresses came running into the room. Barely taking the time to catch her breath, the young woman rattled off the problem that had been discovered. Marinette calmed her down then told her to lead the way.

“I hope you don't mind if I deal with this before answering your questions? You are most welcome to follow me if you want to.” She said casually to them but they all picked up on the cue that she had handed them and followed the two ladies to what could only be the main floor. Marinette quickly saw what the problem was and saw a very easy solution. 

“Rather then resew everything from scratch, I want you two to swap models and see if everything fits better. If there is no change then we'll have new ones made but I'd rather not have to do that so close to the show.” The two women looked at each other and nodded, hastily sending the two models to change into the sapped outfits which they saw fit very well to their delight. Marinette quickly led her three guests back to her office and looked at Mr Agreste.

“Does that answer your questions?” She enquired in an amused tone, loving the poleaxed look on Mr Agreste's face along with the fact that Nathalie looked like she had just swallowed a lemon. Adrien was laughing softly from his spot behind his father. She glanced at him, it seemed like as soon as the shock of seeing her had worn off Adrien had guessed that she was at the very least the lead designer and had been waiting to see when the other two would catch up. As she waited for their response she poked her head out the door and asked for refreshments to be brought up, then retreated back into her office. After five minutes, Mr Agreste finally spoke.

“Well, it looks like my plan of offering you an apprenticeship won't be needed.” His voice had a slightly bitter tone to it. “So are you the lead designer or owner?”

Marinette didn't answer for a minute as she was finally going over the list of models for her show and had found Adrien's name on the list. She sent off a quick email asking for the appropriate items that he would be modelling to be sent to her office STAT so that she could do the final fittings and only then did she lean back to answer.

“Both. I started this company in my real name three years ago when it became clear to me that ninety per cent of my class were idiots who would rather believe a liar and removed me from the position of being class president. I joined the main student council instead and was soon it's vice-president but I was still bored. When the class was friendly with me my days were occupied with doing designs for gifts, school dance dresses, team uniforms nad planning fundraisers etc. As a result, I had very little time for myself and to be honest I was grateful when they turned on me as they were no longer coming to me at the last moment and just expecting me to be happy to do whatever they wanted. You should have seen the temper tantrums I put up with when I had the nerve to say 'I'm busy'” 

Marinette stopped when there was a knock at her door and she waved a hand to allow them to enter. Four people walked in the first had a tray of drinks and eats, the second had a folding privacy screen that had ornate phoenixes and apple blossoms on it and the last two were pushing a rack that had several outfits on it. Marinette thanked them as they quickly set up the screen and after making sure there was nothing else they left just as quietly as they had arrived. 

Seeing that Adrien was about to speak Marinette held up a hand. “Drink something first. It's lunchtime and nothing here will cause bloating so you are welcome to eat as well. We can do your fittings after that, provided Nathalie has nothing else scheduled for today,” she said with a smile. Mr Agreste was watching her as though trying to figure something out.

“What's wrong Mr Agreste?” She asked with a slight tilt to her head.

“I'm just surprised that you will be doing Adrien's things yourself. I'm also trying to figure out why there is a screen for him to change behind.” He answered calmly.

“Simple. Yes, he is used to having people see him change and yes I own this company and could assign someone else to do this, but I decided to spare him that this time. Adrien is blond and a natural one at that which is rare here in Singapore thus he will be much sought after and I decided to avoid having my junior designers and interns fighting over the honour of who will do his fittings. I don't know who his dresser will be during the show yet but we'll get there. As for the screen, I am female and while I have grown up in France and as such, I am more liberal than most, but this is Singapore and propriety must be observed. I am an unattached female as is Nathalie and Adrien is not related to either of us, so polite society dictates that we not be exposed to his unclothed form.” Marinette was speaking casually yet they could tell that she meant what she was saying. Either way, Adrien was grateful to Marinette for her thoughtfulness.

Adrien frowned then spoke up for the first time in a while, “What do you mean your 'real name' Marinette? I noticed you said that you opened this fashion house under your 'Real Name' but for as long as I've known you your name has always been Marinette Dupain-Cheng on any of your documents.” Marinette smiled.

“Caught that did you? When mom found out she was pregnant with me, she convinced the family to let her move to France. I was raised there under a fake name so as to keep me out of the news here in Singapore. When I was old enough to start using contact lenses mom ordered coloured ones for me and I've been using them ever since.” She paused to take a breath but before she could continue Adrien popped out yet another question.

“So what's your real name and eye colour? I mean I've never seen you with any eye colour other than blue, even now! Don't they get uncomfortable? I know mine do after a little while!” Marinette smiled at her long-time crush.

“My real name is Nettie Chang and as for my real eye colour, it's grey.” She paused and glanced in a mirror. “Huh, no wonder you look confused, I forgot that I didn't need to put in my contacts in this morning. Oops!” She giggled slightly and walked over to her desk and opened a drawer to get out an empty case to hold her contacts and quickly removed them, revealing her stormcloud grey eyes. 

Adrien had to stop himself reacting when he saw them. It seemed just when he thought she couldn't get any prettier, she went and did so. It was unfair as far as he was concerned. Throughout high school, he'd watched her turn down guy after guy always saying that she couldn't return their feelings as she already liked someone. It didn't help that Lila had tried to turn that into Marinette, no Nettie, supposedly thinking that she was better than anyone in the school. Adrien had to wonder if she had ever told the oblivious idiot in question that she had a crush on him. 

Mr Agreste and Nathalie looked visibly shaken when they heard her name. Both of them were panicking as they had helped Lila Rossi on a number of occasions and it looked like Nettie knew about those deals. While her three guests were quiet, Nettie had continued working on the playlist for the show and had decided that she was going to stay with her theme of harder rock music as most of the clothes that had been made in darker tones that were designed to show off the wearers pale skin tones. She noticed that there were no sounds of eating and looked up.

“Was everything to your liking?” She asked innocently and received polite thank you's from Nathalie and Mr Agreste and an enthusiastic one from Adrien. She giggled slightly at the fact that he hadn't changed much then stood and beckoned for him to follow her. “This is the first outfit if you don't mind changing so that I can check the fit.” She said softly, handing him the first set for him to try on. The shoes will remain the same for each set so we only need to check those once.”

Adrien nodded and slipped behind the screen to change, all the while Nathalie and Mr Agreste tried to make sense of what was happening. Mr Agreste had expected to be able to walk in and take over but Nettie had blocked him so effortlessly that she made it look like she wasn't trying to block him at all. Thankfully none of the items of clothing needed any major alterations, though Adrien had needed to keep his mind firmly blank when Nettie had run her hands over the clothes to double-check everything. He had practically been able to hear Plagg laughing at him and had been grateful that his kwami had chosen to stay with his street clothes while he changed. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

As far as Alya was concerned, Marinette getting permission to go on holiday a week before the rest of the class was a good thing. She only knew about the extra week off because Max had hacked the school system and place a tag on Marinette's file so that they knew when she was not going to be at school. The fact that Adrien had also been pulled from school for that week was a minor upset to Alya's plans to her Liladrien plan but one she could handle. Lila had been upset but who wouldn't be when they knew they wouldn't be able to see their crush everyday?

The class had managed to do enough fundraising to afford a trip to Singapore as their final school trip together and everyone was looking forward to it. Mlle Bustier had been persuaded to leave Marinette's name off of the list when it came time to booking anything, so Alya was happy they wouldn't have to deal with her. Mr Agreste hadn't replied to the classes emails about the trip so no-one was sure if Adrien would be able to come and with him not being at school for the week before they left it made things a little harder to plan but Alya was sure they had managed to do so just fine.

The school week passed with very little difficulty and they were all looking forward to their trip. Apparently, Lila had managed to book them an exclusive tour of the Píngguǒ huā Designs studios as well as backstage passes to their fashion show! Lila knew the lead designer for the studio which is how she had managed to organise it all and Alya was looking forward to rubbing the fact that they got to meet him in Marinette's face when they got back. 

The only downside of that week was seeing that Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie had gone up for sale and had closed its doors for the last time on the Wednesday at the end of the business day. Nadja Chamack had done a special story on it for the evening news that night and apparently, they were moving to be closer to Sabine's family as her mother was getting on in age. That was the official story anyway, as far as the class was concerned that story was a coverup and they were simply moving away due to being ashamed of Marinette's behaviour. 

Alya didn't know why Marinette hadn't just gotten over herself and apologised to Lila for everything and then they wouldn't have excluded her the way they had. Even Chloe had made a deal with Lila to just pretend the other didn't exist and that had been the last of their arguing. 

Sure there had been several disadvantages to pushing Marinette away like no new dresses whenever they wanted them, no fresh pastries on test days and no friends and family discount at the bakery but they had made do. It meant a little pre-preparation for some things but it was worth it in the end as far as they were concerned. 

The trip to Singapore had been uneventful, though none of them could get comfortable in their economy class seats. They had then all piled into the bus that had been organised for them and when they had arrived at their hotel they had all been too tired to do much so they had checked in, received their keys, dropped their bags off and gone out for a meal. None of them had wanted to try anything from the street vendors, except Kim, but they had eventually found something they could all agree on and had that for their evening meal.

For three days the class had done the tourist thing, visiting the museums and a couple of local site's but that night the class had a rather unexpected surprise. They had all gone back to where they had seen the huge collection of street vendors as Kim had convinced them that it would be a shame to not try anything at least when they saw Adrien. What made it completely unexpected was that Mr Agreste and his assistant, Nathalie, were there too. They also had the last person any of the class wanted to see with them, Marinette. Or at least they thought it was Marinette. The girl had grey eyes and not blue so there was a possibility that it wasn't her 

“Mr Agreste, I didn't know you and Adrien would be here!” Lila greeted as she walked over to Mr Agreste's table, Adrien and their guest had wandered off to somewhere as Lila headed their way. Ever the good friend, Alya had her phone trained on the scene in front of her, hoping that it would turn out to be the romantic moment the Lila hoped for when Adrien returned.

“Yes, Adrien is scheduled to walk in the Píngguǒ huā Designs fashion show in two days so we had to come here early so that all the final fittings could be done without needing to be rushed.” Although Mr Agreste had replied politely his tone was so cold it was palpable. At that moment, Adrien returned and placed what he was holing on the table, which smelled delicious. “Adrien, where is Nettie?” Mr Agreste asked seeing she hadn't followed Adrien back to the table. 

Adrien laughed, then answered happily, “She's getting a different dish. She is insistent that we try multiple different dishes and firmly believes that it would be a shame to eat here without trying a full range. My job is to track her as she moves from stand to stand and carry the meals back here. I hope you are hungry though as she didn't say how many stalls she would be visiting. Anyway, I've got to run or I'll lose her!”

With that Adrien vanished back into the crowd while Mr Agreste and Nathalie looked at each other and shook their heads with a smile. Lila fumed for a moment and was about to ask if she could join them when it seemed Mr Agreste remembered that she was there.

“Oh, by the way, Mlle Rossi, since you are already here I may as well tell you now instead of when I get back to France. Gabriel designs will no longer require your modelling services, due to a recent market survey that shows that rather than attracting customers with your modelling skills, you are deterring them. You were already paid for the last shoot you did with us, so consider it your last one.”

Alya stared at Mr Agreste and Nathalie, who had nodded along with her boss. Lila looked like she didn't know if she wanted to scream or cry. Adrien had made two more trips and it looked like he was back from his final trip as he had the grey-eyed girl from earlier with him. 

“This all smells amazing Nettie! Thank you for bringing us here.” Mr Agreste said with a soft smile as he looked at the girl who was with them. Adrien saw Lila was about to say something and decided to talk to Nette in Chinese until their class was no longer within earshot. Mr Agreste saw what his son was doing and laughed softly as he switched languages too, pretending to have forgotten that she 'didn't speak French.'

Alya walked over and took Lila's arm, “Come on Gurl, we need to find food as well. I don't know about you but I don't want to get in trouble with Mlle Bustier.” Lila nodded numbly, Had she really just been fired she thought before risking a glance over her shoulder and seeing Adrien feeding the other girl something then her returning the favour. 

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

Adrien was having fun, something he hadn't expected to be possible when his father had agreed to have him model in the Píngguǒ huā Designs fashion show. He had been absolutely thrilled to find out he was modelling for his crush and had had to fight to maintain his control during the fittings but as far as he was concerned it was well worth it. He knew that Nathalie and his father had eased up on the schedule due to finding out that the girl his father had wanted to offer an internship to had bought her own fashion company. What a shock that had been to find out she owned Píngguǒ huā Designs but when the four of them had spoken after his fittings were done, everything had started to make sense.

It turned out that Lila had been lying to Marinette, saying that Mr Agreste had wanted nothing to do with her designs and that she was nothing but a social climber so Marinette had decided that she would start her own business instead. She had started by borrowing the original Capital from her parents and by using the money she had earned from her commissions and had already paid everything off. She still did those commissions but she had long since told those that she did the commissions for the truth and they were the ones who had spread the company's name around and had made it as popular as it now was. Nettie had focused primarily on ready to wear streetwear and practical clothing but she did have her more formal lines and he would be modelling a mix from both during the show. 

On top of lying about what his father was saying about her designs, Lila had also told Nettie that he didn't want to be her friend among other things which Adrien had not been happy about. The talk had revealed a lot more than that but Adrien and his father had been most caught off guard by the fact that once the misunderstandings had been cleared up, Nettie had forgiven them. A quick call and they had been invited to her family home for supper, which they had gratefully accepted. They were about to hire a taxi when Marinette said she could drive them if they wanted, something they hadn't expected. 

Upon their arrival at the Cheng house, she had warned them to watch where they put their feet, only to almost trip over Mǔdān herself making her blush even as she laughed. She quickly scooped the do up in her arms and turned to face them.

“Now you see why I told you to watch where you put your feet. This is Mǔdān and she is the youngest of the six Pekingese that my grandmother owns and she is definitely the friendliest of them. The others are Ming, Tuptim, Yari, Suki and Shari. They are all totally spoiled so don't let their cute faces fool you into thinking they aren't fed or anything like that!” Adrien had watched as she fussed over the dog in her arms and followed as she led them into the house, toeing off their shoes at the door, just like she had. There are indoor slippers if you would prefer to not walk barefoot but none of them worried as she hadn't bothered to put any on either. Soon they were greeted by the family and led into the lounge where they had had a very enjoyable evening, with Nettie and Adrien reconnecting their friendship properly.

They had had a fun evening after dinner watching a recording of SIX and while they had loved the musical, they couldn't help but point out the historical inaccuracies. Just before they had thought to head back to their hotel, the Chang family had offered to host them instead as a sign of goodwill. Adrien had been beyond thrilled when his father had readily agreed and had fallen into bed that night with a huge smile on his face, something that Plagg had teased him mercilessly for! By the time the end of the week arrived, he and Nettie were dating and despite her families super strict rules for them, they were absolutely thrilled about finally being able to show what they were feeling. 

By the time they had gone to dinner at the open food market, they had agreed that she wouldn't need to bother with her contact lenses anymore. Adrien hadn't even flinched when he saw Alya and Lila at the food market. He had, in fact, pretended to be oblivious to their presence and had deliberately switched to Chinese when talking to Nettie just to add to the confusion even more. 

With a bit of eve's dropping, Nettie had found out that Lila had lied to the class and said that she knew the head designer of Píngguǒ huā Designs and that Lila had organised an exclusive tour of the studio as well as backstage passes to the show. Nettie decided she would send tickets for the show itself but not full access passes as Lila had promised. 

She then coordinated with Mr Agreste to pull in as many people as possible that Lila had lied about to be at the show and more especially, the after-party. It turned out quite a few of them were people that were going to be there anyway as they had ordered outfits from her beforehand were eager to be there when she showed herself to the world for the first time until now they only knew of a masked face with what looked like short hair and a voice distorter. Those that had ordered from her prior to her opening her own company knew her but those who she only started working with after that only knew the image she let the world see. 

The night before the show, Nettie and her family found themselves in the lounge with their three guests watching a movie that had Nettie and her family in gales of laughter. Crazy Rich Asians was definitely something the whole family could relate to. Tom confided to Adrien that that's how he had felt when he had first met Sabine and that while the hazing he had gone through was nowhere near as bad as what the female protagonist had to deal with, it hadn't been easy. It had been a shock for Tom when he had found out that Sabine was part of a super-rich family, but they were a lot more relaxed than the families in the movie, except maybe the roommate's family!

The fashion show had gone off without a hitch, with all the models hitting their cues effortlessly. The crowd had been wowed by the daring music choices and the stunning outfits that had been on display. Adrien had let Nettie know where the class was sitting and that Alya had her phone out and recording, despite the 'No Filming unless you have signed Authorisation' signs in French, English and Chinese that had been posted at every entrance. Nettie had alerted security to what Alya was doing and they had dealt with it gleefully as the class hadn't made a good impression on them. The reveal of Nettie's identity would happen during the afterparty, so with this in mind, she had created two outfits for the night. The first that she would walk the runway in was gender-neutral while the outfit for the party was an eye-catching dress in her signature pink, with grey accents.

Nettie was calmly talking to some of her guests while Adrien rested his arm around her waist when her class arrived. She had to hide a smile when she heard Alya telling Lila not to worry about how close Adrien was standing to someone they didn't know, how it must be something Mr Agreste had organised. Nettie lost sight of the class as she moved around the room and then it was time. Jagged had pretty much demanded the honour of introducing her to the world so when she saw him standing on the stage, she took a deep breath.

“I know many of you have heard the rumours about a certain girl knowing many of us here tonight. In fact, the Ladyblog has documented her numerous interactions with each of us. From rescuing my cat to Clara supposedly stealing her dance moves. Tonight we decided to share the truth. Yes, we do know a teenage girl who is frankly Rock n Roll in every way. But her name is not Lila Rossi. Lila Rossi is a name we only know due to her lies that the Ladyblog has spread and I know many of us have lawsuits lined up for her. I know Clara is an exceptional dancer in her own right and doesn't need to steal someone else's moves. The only cat I've ever been around, other than Chat Noir, was my mothers seal-point Siamese KisiMi who unfortunately died 20 years ago. 

This little liar aside, there is a young lady here that we all know and love. She is talented, kind and brave. When she was told that she would never succeed she brushed off the criticism and stood tall building the company we see here tonight. She has worked with a number of us on numerous occasions and always makes sure that we look our Rock n Roll best for whatever the occasion. I first met her when she was 14 and was using a fake name. Tonight she is shedding that fake name and showing the world who she really is. Please help me welcome to the stage the lead designer for and owner of Píngguǒ huā Designs: Nettie Chang!”

“Thanks, Jagged,” Nettie started once she had walked onto the stage and accepted the hug he offered. “Some people here might know me as Marinette Dupain-Cheng. This is due to my mother wanting to raise me away from the public eye. Nothing travels faster then news on 'Radio 1- Aisa'” she had to pause here as there was too much laughter for her to talk over. “Anyway, I have always wanted to design and just never had enough time to do so, so when a liar joined my class and pushed me out to the point where I barely had any true friends I decided to start this company. I'm glad I did too. 

 I have worked with so many fabulous people that we would be here all night but there are three people, outside of my family that deserve extra special thanks. The first is Jagged Stone, without whom I wouldn't have met most of you. He has come to be the fun uncle that you turn to when you want to break the rules. The second is Mr Agreste, who hosted a bowler hat competition and gave me the motivation to keep designing. The final thank you goes to my boyfriend Adrien, who supports me from the wings and occasionally gives me the shove I need to get things done.” 

Nettie gave a small curtsy to the crowd, without waiting for questions and slid herself back into Adrien's arms. She could see the shouting going on among her class but she didn't care anymore. She was free of the expectations that they had placed on her. Free from worrying about what they thought and free to live her life. That's all she had wanted when she left France two weeks ago. Now she just had to deal with her cousin's wedding. Wouldn't that be fun!

  @northernbluetongue, @ash-amg-blog

[simplyfandomish]

Sister, Sister (3/_)

Older! Gilbert Blythe x Older Shirley! Reader

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 ||

Anne and Diana took the usual route to school as they did every morning. Both girls were conversing about the basic math assignment they were given as homework the night before. Ruby ran up to the pair from the pathway that led from her newly built home and joined the two girls in their discussion.

“The both of you got 25?” Ruby’s eyes widened slightly, then ducked to the ground in embarrassment, “I got 16...” She had a feeling she had gotten the answer wrong last night, but a piece of her felt confident in her ability in Maths, but seeing Diana and Anne - the two smartest girls in class share the same answer, its was written in stone that she had gotten the problem wrong.

“Oh, the both of you are just so smart! Like Gilbert Blythe…” Ruby sighed with heart eyes. Diana and Anne shared a look with one another, the redhead crossed her eyes in annoyance. Diana snickered.

“Don’t laugh!” Ruby defended. “He is the smartest out of all the boys! He wants to become a doctor, remember?” She stated proudly, now with a skip in her step. 

How her mood could shift so quickly from just the sound of Gilbert’s name amazed Anne. 

“Maybe he could help me with my homework! Oh, it’ll be a date!” Ruby cupped her cheeks, surely her mind wandering to what would occur during their study date. Anne and Diana watched as the blonde haired girl’s cheeks turned a blaring red and she hid her face within her pink knitted scarf, suddenly bashful. 

Diana sighed and changed the conversation, “How is your sister, Anne?”

Anne’s blue eyes sparkled, “She’s spectacular! We write to each other almost everyday - or whenever she has a chance. She’s been increasingly occupied with work, lately. But that’s just like my big sister, always been busy, busy!”

“Sister?!” Ruby gasped, “You have a sister?”

Anne nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! Have I not told you about her?” Her brows furrowed as she tried to rake her head if she ever mentioned her eldest sister.

“No! Oh, how exciting!” Ruby clapped her hands. “Why haven’t you ever mentioned her before?”

Anne played with one of her braids, suddenly bashful.

Diana piped up, “There was an incident with their letters and addresses, but we ran into (Y/n) in Charlottetown while we were visiting my aunt Josephine.” Short and simple. Anne nodded in gratitude. Diana nodded back.

Ruby suddenly sprung in front of the pair, blocking their path momentarily. “What’s she like?!”

Anne smiled, and her eyes grew distant, “Amazing. She’s really tough and knows how to throw a punch! She actually discombobulated a rude customer where she works. She works as a barmaid, but she always jokes about being security.”

“A-a barmaid?” Ruby stuttered. Her imagination drifted off to the cliche images of a barmaid. Tight corsets that supported large...ahem - bosoms, dark red lipstick that accentuated plump lips, hair teased high and tight with dirty curls, and a dark skirt that would be too tight around the bottom.

Could the man she had knocked out trying to be grabbing with her large bosom?? Ruby’s head nearly exploded.

Anne nodded. 

“Anne, you should invite her to Green Gables for tea!” Diana smiled widely. 

Ruby whipped her head to the ravenette with wide eyes, but she went ignored. 

Anne nearly lit up like a firework. “That sounds like a scrumptious idea, Diana! Let’s hurry to class so I can get some paper!” Diana nodded and both girls locked arms and began to scurry to the school house. 

“Come on, Ruby! We’ll be late!” Anne gripped the small girl’s elbow and began to drag her. 

Ruby was quite literally dragged as she felt numb like a wet rag doll as she still tried to grasp the concept that her dear, imaginative friend, Anne, was related to a busty barmaid!

A pair of dirty, brown leather boots stepped onto the wooden platform of Avonlea Station, the passenger took in a breath of the fresh country air, much different than that of musty Charlottetown. They nodded towards the train conductor as their luggage was placed by their feet.

The passenger pulled out a cigarette and lit the end of the paper stick. The tobacco ignited and a puff of smoke drifted from the smoker’s mouth. “So this is Avonlea.” They muttered with a nod of satisfaction. 

The visit to this small town better be worth it. A large hand slammed on the smoker’s shoulder. “Avonlea...the pictures and descriptions do no justice.” The large man sighed with a smile. 

The smoker jerked his shoulder away, “We’re not supposed to be seen together, you moron. You want our plan to fail?”

“Right, sorry.” The large man stepped away from the smoker and put on his bowler hat. He tugged on the front of his jacket and picked up his suitcase. “Meet you at Green Gables then.” He nodded in farewell and walked towards the stables to rent a cab.

The smoked rolled his eyes and drew out another breath of nicotine. Then he dropped the cigarette onto the ground and stubbed it out. He ran a hand through his gelled hair and carried his luggage sack over his shoulder as he walked off. “So you’re here to surprise your sister?” A dark skinned conductor asked as he handled the redhead’s luggage. 

(Y/n) nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, sir!” She saw him bend over to place her luggage down, but she insisted she just take the case from his hands. He accepted and placed the heavy luggage into her hands. “Been working extra hard to save up some money to come to Avonlea. Speaking of, if you ever need a good place for good ale go to Emilio’s! Just say your a friend of mine and you’ll be treated like a king!” She was bouncing on her feet in excitement. (Emilio’s tavern was welcome to all genders of all races - after all, Emilio himself was a natural born Spaniard that happened to fall in love with Canadian woman and the country itself!) 

The conductor laughed and nodded. Never had he met such a white skinned individual who conversed with him like an equal. It was refreshing. “I wish you and your sister the best of luck, miss (Y/n).”

“Thank you, Maxwell!” She smiled at him and practically sprinted towards the stables to catch a ride. 

The conductor snickered and shook his head at the exuberant girl and hopped back onto the steps of a scarlet train cabin. He waved his hand towards the engine, giving the engineer the signal to depart. 

The train whistled cried and then the scarlet train chugged back to Charlottetown.

“Anne, you have a sister!”

“That’s marvelous!”

“When can we meet her, Anne?” Cole asked with a small smile. 

Anne smiled widely at the small crowd that surrounded her and Diana’s table. 

“An older sister, yes! And she’s amazing! We just recently found each other again due to a mishap with our addresses, but we haven’t stopped talking to each other since!”

“I bet she was actively ignoring you.” Billy snickered from the other side of the schoolhouse. “Tell us about your sister, orphan. Is she just as ugly as you?” His band of boys snickered as well and began to throw in their own two cents.

“Dotted with freckles!”

“Same pumpkin hair.”

“A motormouth know-it-all?” 

At each insult Anne grew more sour, and then anger filled her being. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Hell runs in terror when its a redheaded woman scoured.

“You take all that back, Billy Andrews!” She jumped to her feet and slammed her palms on the desktop. “I may not be the prettiest one here, but my sister is absolutely breathtaking. And you better watch your mouth or she’ll knock you to the ground!”

Diana nodded in all seriousness. But a part of her would happily pay to see (Y/n) put Billy Andrews in his place.  

The blonde boy stood from his desk and squared his shoulders. “Is that a threat, mutt?”

“Let us just say that when she does come to visit, you better watch yourself.” She crossed her arms in defiance. If her dear, older sister can knock out a drunk with one kick, then perhaps it was high time Anne learned how to step up for herself! (Plus the fact, that Anne now had an older sister to hide behind, made her a little more reckless - but she would never admit that.)

Billy scoffed, “Whatever, orphan. Bet she’s as scrawny as you.” He cracked his knuckles as he sat back down in his chair.

The girls couldn’t help but gawk at Anne. As common as it was for the redhead to lose her temper, never before had she seemed so...confident in her argument? Yes, confident sounded like a good word. 

“Sooo, when can we meet her?” Tillie asked. Bringing the conversation bacl to Anne’s current favorite topic.

Anne tapped her chin, “I’m not too sure. Soon hopefully! She’s just been really busy with her job in Charlottetown.”

“Oh? What does she do?” Josie Pye asked. 

“Tailor dresses?”

“A nanny?”

“A waitress?”

“Close,” Anne answered to the last suggestion. “She’s-

“A barmaid!” Ruby squeaked out in sheer embarrassment. Her cheeks pink like her dress and hair ribbon.

All conversations halted in the schoolhouse as all the students stared at Anne with unreadable expressions. Some of the girls’ eyes widened and some of the boy’s cheeks heated up. Even Billy was silent. Guess everyone in Avonlea had the same image of a barmaid as Ruby had...

Anne picked up on the silence and rose a brow, “Yes, and?”

Tagged List: [Open]: angel-in-the-roses 

[tempthornton]

The Chosen Child

The rocking ships lurched and moved in ways Son’Ispa was not ready for. The void entity inside of Temperance had been holding control do the young girl's body for almost three days. Three days where she had ridden with a man she knew but did not bear to think about long. Three days they brought her to a Kul’Tiran ship where her hands were healed and she was given the Captain’s quarters to rest.

Before this, she had been a prisoner, and again she felt like she was a prisoner for a different reason. Last twenty years Temperance and Son’Ispa had feared what was hunting them. The creature that would rip apart any adopted family they had, the thing that hunted them all around Kul’Tiras and now the thing that saved them.

‘He’s hardly a thing, he’s a man, even if his body is not really his own.’ Son muttered as she looked up at the lurching ceiling. Her body did not like the ocean, and a deeper part of her wanted to be deeper in the ocean. To a place where there weren’t any currents to thrash her around.

The moment Son’Ispa saw the Captain of the ship when he saved her from that witch's home, she knew. Twenty years she had been running for no reason, but yet for more reason than she had ever had. Being healed, and having several meals in her, she was counting down the moment when he would walk back in. When he came, she knew she would have to tell him something she dreaded.

The knock didn’t make her jump, she had been expecting it for long enough. Clearing her voice she called out. “Come in.”

For all the monsters in this world, he was a beautiful one. If she was not protecting Temperance, Son’ispa would be more relieved, but that’s not the world she lived in.

He had beautiful golden hair, bright eyes, and tanned skin from working out on the ship. His clothing was perfectly tailored, he had to be wealthy. It didn’t matter what the crew called him. Son knew what he was. He was a void entity, much like her, no, exactly like her. He was her other half. A pair who were sent to inhabit human bodies so they could sew chaos and confusion among the humans while more powerful entities did the things the heroes focused on. They were small pieces, but small pieces always meant the difference between success or failure.

“Pa’thay.” She said quietly watching him.

His smile was bright, and it hurt to look at. “So your memory is coming back now?”

It had come back the moment she had seen him. Like a jolt of electricity, it shocked the fog from her mind. The botched ritual that kept Temperance and her sharing the same body had almost made her forget, but now she couldn't, she wouldn't ever forget.

But she couldn’t do what they had planned. Not anymore.

Instead, she nodded. “I had forgotten everything.”

The other half of her sat on the edge of the bed that she had been rooted to for the last few minutes. The ship lurched and she reached out to steady herself.

“You’ll get your sea legs soon.” His voice carried not just warmth, but a joy to it, it broke her a little.

“We need to talk, something has, changed.” She looked at him, and her body wanted to relax. But it was not her body. “I am only a passenger for this body. I don’t own it.”

Her other half, Alexander, that’s what the crew had called him, shook his head. A hand came up to touch her. “Then we make sure this is your body. It was promised to you.”

“Promised when the child who owned it could be ushered to her next life without pain.” She pushed his hand away. “I love her.”

The silence was threatening like a knife in the dark. Son knew what she was saying was treason. If their Master found out she no longer wanted to do her job, she wouldn't die, there were worse things than death and she knew it now. Temperance and she would suffer, Alexander would suffer, that’s why she used to obey.

Alexander’s eyes seemed to forget to blink. His voice carrying more emotion than his face, like something didn’t sync up. Did he have a hard time figuring out how to be human? Son wondered what she would be like if she didn’t have Temperance figuring out how to man her body as well. “You love her?”

“She’s my daughter. I’ve been protecting her since I was put in this body. twenty years I’ve been protecting her form everything. She’s the last of her family Pa’thay.” She said his real name not caring to try to use the human one. “All of them were whipped out. I can’t, I can’t destroy the family that gave me a chance at life by killing her.”

His lips part and Son’Ispa waited for the devastation to hit him. How could he not be devastated? They waited for hundreds of years to be together and this time they couldn't, they would be separated because of a mishap of mortals. It wasn’t fair, but it was what they had.

“We can find you another body.” He offered.

“I want to protect her.” She reached out and took his hand. “I need this. Every time we’re together I get twenty-five, maybe thirty years. As soon as I have a child I die. We both know it. Us together murders any human body I’m in. I’ve never raised a child. Please. You know how much this hurts me.”

He should feel every pain she felt. That was the darker edge of being a soulmate, that is what the void twisted their blessing into. Others would feel joy, but they had a time limit, one they fought against, but they always failed. It was their cycle.

Pa’Thay reached out first holding his hand out to show he meant no harm. Then a warm hand touched her cheek. “We’ll be punished if he finds out?”

“I think our Master has bigger worries right now. Aren’t the Alliance and Horde hunting him down?” She said and she knew it was treason, but she had grown so much bolder when she had suffered along with Temperance. “I want him to win, to bring the dark empire back to its full glory, but Pa.” She got up and nearly tipped over with the lulling motion of the ship. Pa’Thay grabbed her arm and steadied her so she could sit up to face him better. “Tell me, what has stopped the people of Azeroth yet?”

There was silence again, the danger clinging to the room as it hung there between them. “Nothing.”

“Exactly. And, he’s so busy, he’s not going to notice the two of us not fulfilling our normal cycle.” She shook her head. “You know me. You know this is what I’ve always wanted.” She wrapped her arms around herself, giving the body a hug. “I want this. At least let me get her to a place where she’s happy, healthy, with people who will care for her. A husband, a wife, I don’t know what she’ll pick. But give me this. Give me this and I’ll find a new body and we can be together. You can pick the body too.”

Pa’Thay hadn’t blinked or made any expression during her plea and Son’Ispa knew he wouldn’t. that’s not how their kind worked. Instead, she took a deep breath, smelling him, feeling him in the energy in the air.

“If we make this work, if he won’t find out, we will need to be close. I want to meet the girl.”

“You need to apologize to her.” Son’Ispa snapped. “You scared her and I half to death with that hospital.”

But he didn’t look guilty, he smiled. “Did you like the gifts?”

The organs on the ground, the blood on the walls. Without her knowing the depth of what she was, it had been a place of horror. But now she saw it as it was. It was him showing he could care for her, protect her from those who had harmed her.

“They were wonderful, and I have no doubt you can keep us safe.” She finally reached out and touched his shoulder. “You can meet her, and you will apologize to her. Then, Ducky and I need to find a place to grow. She’s still learning her magic and after that witch... I don’t know who she will want to trust. It will be hard enough for her to trust you. You murdered everyone she thought she loved.” She held her hand up. “I know what you were doing, don’t say anything.”

Instead, he smiled a bit. “I missed you.”

She let out a small huff. “And you’re going to have to learn how to act more human. You are horrible.”

“You sound like my crew.” Pa’Thay lay back on the bed. “All of you telling me I’m not human enough.”

“Obviously you’re not.” She rolled her eyes but slowly lay back as well. She didn’t move in to hold him, even if she wanted to. This was not her body, and she loved Temperance too much to use the body in any way the protected girl world be offended by. 

“Can you take us back to Boralus?” She asked.

Pa’Thay looked back at her with a small smile. “Miss home?”

“I want Temperance to grow, and the only nice witches we met were there. I don’t know who we can trust. I know you will do anything to keep me safe. So you’ll do anything to keep her safe. Out of the world I trust you, but I don’t know who else I could trust.” She looked back over to him, his face perfect and Son felt like it was such a waste of a perfectly angelic face. Not when it would have to be alone for so much longer.

“Do you need anything, money, papers? The family who made the deal with me is very wealthy and they gave me this ship. I’m not without anything.” He looked down at her and her ragged-looking clothing. “Let me care for you. If this girl is your daughter...” He let out a breath and nodded. “I’m her father.”

“Temperance is going to love that.” She rested her head back down laughing. “Two void entities as parents...” But her laughter slowed letting the silence creep in. The danger was there, but she was at the center of it. She would attack anyone who hurt her daughter, and knowing her mate, that Pa’Thay was there no one would be able to imprison their chosen child again.

((Kinda excited to get Temperance to a place where she can find some character growth! Thanks to @caedera-mendenhall​ for making her realize she doesn’t want to be that kind of a witch. Now to see where she’s going to go from here... with her void family... I have a trope I love okay))