#i lost the gold noodle dress

[honeyalaia]

[eveninglight416]

Homecoming

A little thing I wrote during a rough time about my favorite noodle twins 💚💚 I figured I’d post bc whatevs. This is just me projecting onto Velvet but I like how it turned out :) (yes I did cry while writing this I’m just a girl)

I think the twins (especially Velvet) struggled a lot in school with not being popular or having partners (just like me fr). This is a little window into that and I think not having a great childhood explains why Velvet is so desperate for fame/fans, girl just wants to be loved <3

//

Flashing lights. Loud music. Pretty dresses. All things Velvet loved, but she wasn’t enjoying herself one bit in the back of the gym, with no one to keep her company but her brother.

No one had complimented her short gold dress, or extravagant hair, or makeup, or anything she had done to try and make herself stand out. She thought her junior homecoming might be different, but that was a stupid thought. Just the same old nothing.

At this point, she wasn’t even surprised no one had asked her to the dance. Well, someone did—her brother—in a kind attempt to make her feel better. She had smiled and accepted, but it only made her feel worse. It only reminded her that no one else would ever want to be with them. He was a nobody, too, taking his nobody sister to this boring dance.

As if to mock her, the DJ chose a love song next: Enchanted by Taylor Swift. Velvet could barely watch, but she couldn’t take her eyes away as all the couples paired up. Listening to the lyrics only made her more upset, knowing no one would ever feel that way about her.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

Velvet looks away from the scene to see her brother, holding out his hand to her. She rolls her eyes.

“Very funny, Veneer,” she sighs, taking her gaze back to the couples on the dance floor.

“How do you know my name?” Veneer responds with shock. “I’ve never seen you around before.”

She wasn’t sure what he was doing, but it sure was a stupid attempt to make her feel not miserable. Just a reminder that he was the only one who thought she was pretty.

Veneer didn’t seem to care, smiling up at her with his statement green lipstick. He takes her hand from her crossed arms, and tenderly kisses the back of it.

“You’re so beautiful, I’m almost nervous to ask,” he starts, still playing pretend, “but would you do me the honor of a dance?”

“Fine,” she huffs.

She lets him lead her to the dance floor, then lead in the dance, their fingers intertwined. She could already hear the rumors: those loser twins, dancing with each other because no one else would ask them.

Veneer keeps smiling, and she smiles back, but it was fake. She kept it to herself that they had ended up next to her crush, dancing with her new girlfriend.

Her name was Juliet, just like Romeo and Juliet. Velvet wished she could talk to her through her window, and stare at her through the fish tank, and kiss her passionately in her pool. But that was all a lost fantasy.

She hadn’t bothered learning the girlfriend’s name. Velvet didn’t know anything about her, other than she hated her almost as much as she hated herself.

She tries to focus on her brother, but it was impossible with all the happy couples surrounding them. Deep down, she knew Veneer was feeling the same way, and he was trying to distract himself as well as her.

Just as Velvet thought it couldn’t get worse, the song ends. She freezes in her spot, and watches through watery eyes as that atrocious beautiful disgusting gorgeous bitch takes Juliet into her arms, and kisses her lips.

One wasn’t enough. Juliet kisses her back, then again, and again, like they were the only two people in the world. But they weren’t, Velvet was right there.

She felt everything and nothing. She must have been crying, though, when she hears her brother’s voice, back to normal.

“Velvet, what’s wrong- oh…”

He trails off when he figures out the answer, turning his head to where she was looking.

She could finally feel the hot tears running down her face, witnessing a kiss between lovers. Velvet was nearly seventeen, and she had never experienced something like that, and at this point she didn’t think she ever would.

Everyone else was in love, and here Velvet was, watching the girl she loved kiss someone else. It broke her heart, but she couldn’t look away. Always a witness, never experiencing it. She would never experience it. Maybe she should just end her own misery-

“Let’s get out of here.”

Veneer takes her out of her spiral and the dance floor, practically dragging her out of the gym while she tried to control her tears. Being away from the couples didn’t help one bit; she still knew what was going on in there.

Hand in his, he takes her past the cafeteria, past the bathrooms where the cool kids were getting drunk, past the courtyard with even more couples talking. He doesn’t say anything, just guides her to the back door to the parking lot.

“What are you doing?” Velvet finally asks him.

“We’re gonna dance. Just us,” he answers, looking around before he opened the door. It was safe, of course, not even the teachers bothered to look at them.

The parking lot was dark and quiet, the opposite of the gym. Veneer seemed determined to make this their own dance floor, though, taking out his phone and looking for a song.

“I don’t want to dance anymore,” Velvet complains. “I don’t want to dance ever again.”

“That’s too bad,” Veneer refutes. “Just one dance, then I’ll drive us home. Please?”

“Okay.”

Fine, she’d dance if it meant she could go home. Being outside was a little better than being surrounded by couples, but she still felt miserable. She couldn’t even see the stars, they were covered by clouds.

Seeing Veneer’s car gave her an ounce of relief. Even when they got home, though, she’d still have to be embarrassed.

For the past few weeks, she had moved into her brother’s room. She had made plenty of excuses, like her room was too cold, he was scared of the dark, his room was closer to the bathroom. But they both know it was so he could keep an eye on her. She might’ve done something stupid by now if he hadn’t been there at night to calm her down.

Just one dance. Hopefully less than three minutes, depending on what song he picked. Just one dance, then she could go home.

The music was much quieter than the music in the gym, but Velvet recognized it immediately. One of their favorite songs: Love Like You by Rebecca Sugar.

She rests her hands on his shoulders, swaying with him in their own slow dance. When she looks up at the sky, it kisses her with a single drop of rain.

Of course it had to rain. Just another thing to make her miserable.

“It’s raining,” Velvet points out, even more drops falling onto her.

“That’s okay.”

Despite the rain, Veneer keeps leading her in the dance, and she had no choice but to go along. It his suit and tie, he looked happy, but the sadness was there in his eyes. It hadn’t left since… She couldn’t remember.

At the bridge, something changed.

The music soared over the falling rain, while her brother spun her all around the parking lot. By the bridge, it was pouring rain, and Velvet and Veneer were the only people in the world. He catches her in a dip, and she realized the stars weren’t in the sky, because they were in his eyes.

For a moment, maybe only having her brother wasn’t so bad. Maybe she’d survive until they graduated, and then they could move to the big city and leave all this behind.

He smiles, and she smiles back, and it was real. The rain was messing up her hair, but for the first time in her life she didn’t care. It wasn’t like anyone was watching her.

At the next crescendo, Veneer lifts her off the ground and spins her around. It felt like flying.

Up in the air, Velvet wasn’t sure if the water on her face was rain or tears. That wasn’t her problem. She just spreads her arms like wings, letting the rain ruin the outfit she had worked so hard on.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had really laughed. But she laughs now, laughs and laughs in the face of the crying sky. She was crying, too, but it was a good cry for once.

When Veneer puts her down, she saw he was laughing and crying just the same as her. As much as she wanted to finish the dance, she couldn’t stop herself from throwing her arms around him, hugging him tight in their rain soaked outfits.

They stay hugging until the song ends, then some after that, until their laughs and sobs overpowered the rain. Maybe… No. They would get out of here. They would make it.

“I love you so much,” she sobs, or laughs, they sounded the same at this point.

“I love you too!” He squeezes her tighter, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “I love you more than anything!”

“I’m cold as fuck,” she changes the subject, finally noticing how freezing the rain was in her short thin-strap dress.

“Oh! Here you go,” Veneer offers.

He takes off his coat, then puts it over her like the gentleman he was. If more people were like her brother, maybe Velvet wouldn’t feel so depressed. At least she had her brother, and that was the best thing she could ask for.

“You still wanna go home?” He asks.

Right, their dance was over. She was actually sad it was, but she definitely didn’t want to go back in that building.

“Yeah, I think so.” She takes his hand, leading him to the car.

She takes out the keys from his coat. Before handing them to him, she takes a moment to admire a little picture of her and Veneer on some vacation, attached to a keychain. They couldn’t have been older than five, and the light was still in their eyes. Once the picture was obscured by raindrops and tears, she hands him the keys, then gets in the passenger seat.

Just as Veneer reaches to start the car, she stops him. She puts a hand over his, and connects their fingers, taking their hands to the armrest. He doesn’t comment, just sits there in silence with her.

She mostly looked down at the ground these days. But something compelled her to look up, through the moonroof, towards the sky. It was completely dark except for the lights illuminating the parking lot. The rain poured onto the moonroof, and if she tried, she could make out shapes in the drops. One figuration of raindrops made two stars, side by side.

Her ears rang, lingering from the loud music in the gym. She didn’t want to think about that place, so she takes her focus back to the rain. It was its own kind of music, pattering against the metal of the car. If love had a sound, this was it.

Her gold lipstick tasted bad, metallic. Velvet didn’t know why she even put it on, no one had any interest in her lips. But if she focused enough, she could still taste the chocolate chip cookie her brother forced her to take in the cafeteria. She barely felt hungry anymore, but right now, all she wanted was another one. And, for the first time in all her teenage years, she remembered how much she loved chocolate.

She had tried a new perfume, and in this moment, it was her new favorite. It was lemony with a hint of sweetness, and now she wanted to wear it every day until it ran out, and then she’d buy a new one. It mixed with her brother’s cologne on his coat, vanilla and some kind of citrus. She wished she could mix them together, but figured that would waste the nice bottles they came in.

Being touch starved was rough for a girl like Velvet, who craved physical affection more than anything. Veneer always made sure to hug her and hold her hand when she needed it, but usually something was missing.

Not tonight.

His hand, slippery from the rain, was still warm in hers. Her rings pressed against his fingers, and she looked forward to taking them off so they could hold hands again. If she really felt for it, she could feel his pulse.

While it was her main focus, his hand wasn’t the only thing she could feel. Her strapless bra dug into her sides. Veneer’s jacket fit her perfectly, keeping her warm after the cold rain. Her gold heels were uncomfortable as hell. She could feel her own pulse, still beating, even after everything.

She looks over to the reason it still was.

“Vels?”

“Hm?” She meets his eyes with a soft smile.

“You okay to go? I want to beat the traffic.”

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”

Veneer starts the car and drives them out of the parking lot. Once they were on the road, he switches to driving with one hand, and uses his other to hold Velvet’s. She squeezes, and he squeezes back.

He had turned on the radio, the volume just loud enough for Velvet to hear it mixed with the rain. She didn’t know the song, but she liked the singer’s voice. At a stoplight, she kicks off her uncomfortable shoes.

She stares out the window as they drive past the suburbs she hated so much. Through the rain, she could almost see it: them driving through the city, past all the bright lights, away from all of this nothingness.

Less than two years, then they’d be out of here. After tonight, they were one day closer.

//

Veneer pulls up to the driveway, greeted by the average sized middle class house he couldn’t wait to move out of. His hand was still in his sister’s.

He was about to talk, but stops himself when he notices Velvet fast asleep in the passenger seat. With a sigh of relief, he turns off the car.

As quietly as possible, Veneer walks around to the other side. He picks her up out of the seat, making sure her head rested on his shoulder. Her bag and shoes were still in the car, but they could deal with that tomorrow.

Trying his best to shield her from the rain, he carries his sleeping sister through the front door. Only one light was on, meaning their parents were asleep. Thank goodness, he didn’t feel like explaining why they were home early and soaking wet.

He carries her up the stairs to his room, then gently lays her on her side of his bed. Too tired for anything else, he changes into the nearest sweatpants and t-shirt, then lazily wipes off his makeup. He wasn’t sure why he put so much effort into his appearance for the dance, maybe some fantasy that a cute guy would approach him.

But that’s all it was. A fantasy.

Once he was done getting ready, he figured he should at least take Velvet’s makeup off and get her a dry jacket. Careful not to wake her, he trades out his coat for a zip up hoodie that had been lying on the floor. He takes off her jewelry as well, making sure they were laid out nicely on his bedside table.

He then gets out a makeup wipe, and tries to remove as much as he could while sitting beside her. She had put on quite a bit, and she looked beautiful as ever. With or without makeup, he loved looking at her, especially her smile. He saw less and less of it lately.

Despite what he thought was a delicate touch, her eyes start to flutter open.

“Hi, sleepyhead,” he whispers, taking off the last of her blush.

“Hey…” She groans, sounding just as sleepy as she looked.

She swats his hand away, then changes her mind, and holds it instead. It seemed like she was about to fall asleep again, when she suddenly sits up, her eyes wide.

“I am not sleeping in this bra,” she declares.

“Good idea,” he agrees, though he was glad he couldn’t relate.

“I know you’re gay and my brother, but,” she finishes her sentence by standing up and throwing a blanket over him, sending him into darkness. “And I’m stealing your pajamas!”

That was fine by him. He stole her clothes plenty, though it wasn’t as fun now that she didn’t get mad. Still, it was one of his ways to be closer to her.

After a minute, she pulls the blanket off of him. She had changed into a set of hot pink satin pajamas—they fit her perfectly. They were one of his favorites, but he would gladly lend them to her whenever if it would make her happy.

She sits down next to him on the edge of the bed. Without a word, she wraps her arms around him in a tight hug. Her head fit perfectly in his shoulder, like he was made to hold her.

“I’m proud of us,” Veneer whispers into the hug.

“Why? We’re total losers,” Velvet disagrees, squeezing him tighter.

“But we’re gonna make it. In two years, we’ll be done, and we won’t be losers anymore,” he reminds her.

He had managed to do the complete opposite of his goal, when he hears Velvet sniffle. He understood, though—it had been a rough night for her. For them both. She needed this.

“I’m right here, I gotcha,” he comforts, gently rubbing her back.

“I know,” she lets out a quiet sob. “I know.”

He holds her through the tears, just as he had countless times.

//

A million thoughts raced through Velvet’s head, sadness flooding back the more she thought about everyone and everything. At least she had a shoulder to cry on, the one person who was there for her.

She had cried plenty that night, but of course her stupid brain had to make her cry again. If only she could be anyone else. But then she wouldn’t have her brother, and she decided that was even worse.

She knew what to do: in hope of blocking out the thoughts, she takes her focus to the rain. It tapped against the window, reminding her that it was okay, even if it was raining.

Velvet focuses on Veneer’s hand on her back: up, down, up, down. She breathes with it, in on the up, out on the down. Veneer breathes with her, until the tears were done.

“I love you,” he tells her, brushing off the last of her tears. “I love you, just the way you are.”

“That’s,” she takes a deep breath, then snickers, “That’s so cheesy.”

“I mean it!” He laughs with her, and flicks her on the arm.

“Yeah, yeah,” she accepts with a playful eye roll. “I love you too.”

“Can I tuck you in?”

She nods, and makes herself comfortable in his sheets. Veneer stands on her side, bringing the blankets up to her shoulders. Once she was tucked in, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to her forehead.

He smiles at her, and she smiles back. Before he moved, she takes his face in her hands, and kisses his forehead next. She already knew it was his favorite.

Veneer lays down beside her, and she quickly wraps her arms around his shoulders. He hugs her close, just as he had the past few nights. Something felt different about this time, though. It was less like she needed him, and more like she wanted him to hold her.

She tried not to think about the after parties she wasn’t invited to, or Juliet spending the night with her girlfriend that should’ve been Velvet. Instead, she was right where she needed to be: in the warm embrace of the person who loved her more than anything.

Her head rested next to his heart, the gentle pulse starting to put her to sleep. She feels a kiss on the top of her head, so she gives him one last squeeze in the hug. She didn’t need to say anything else; her touch was her language.

It couldn’t possibly get worse, so it had to get better, right? Something had to change, they just had to get out of this awful place.

For now, it was raining, and that was okay. The rain would stop eventually.

.

[deliciouskeys]

@cozycornerkinktober’s prompt #2: Gloves

America’s Sweetheart (Homelander solo with a soupçon of Starlander)

Warnings: rated soft E or hard M. Cross-dressing elements.  HL pov and all that comes with that. Short. AO3 link.

Homelander can't understand a lot of things about Starlight. For someone who made her way into Vought’s top echelon of supes, she's still oddly attached to her unremarkable birth name (Maeve never insisted he call her Maggie, and The Deep and A-Train only use theirs for signing contracts). She was inexplicably dating a limp noodle of a man who was a mudperson. Homelander would have understood if it was someone with political clout or money, but Hugh had none of those things. And she periodically felt the need to speak out on camera about things that made everyone uncomfortable. In some ways, Homelander wonders if it was her infuriating behavior during rehearsals that inspired him into his own public tirade. Did she think she was the only one who could speak off the cuff?

Given all of these things, her rejection of the sexier improved uniform the Vought team attempted to update for her shouldn't surprise him. His new co-captain seems determined to wear that dowdy, prim little skirt-and-cape ensemble. Shoulder covered. No cleavage, no thigh high boots. He’s surprised she didn’t insist on a skirt that would cover her knees and go with a full Amish bonnet instead of a headband.

When he intrudes into her room to discuss his vision for the finale of Vought’s Next Top Superhero, he paces around idly, stopping in front of her closet and scanning through it. He’s pleased to discover that she never bothered to return her uniforms. Six identical outfits Vought manufactured for her that she snobbily rejected after a brief run were still hanging up, side by side, in the back of her closet. 

“Why won’t you wear this version?” he asks as he shoves the door open and pulls out the uniform that also has accessories on the hanger.

“Because it’s uncomfortable and obscene,” she says brusquely.

“What’s obscene is you wearing jeans and a t-shirt while you’re on the clock. It’s fucking unprofessional.”

“I’m in my own room!” She was already exasperated with him before, but is clearly even more on edge now. Maybe because she can guess that during his scan he also saw her vibrator stashed away in her underwear drawer. He did enjoy the brief mental image it gave him, but there’s no reason for him to bring it up and give her a hard time. If he really wanted to, he could listen for the buzzing sound at night and look through walls and floors to perv on her. But he’s not that obsessed with her.

“Your room is in Vought Tower, and 10 am is work hours by any definition, even a New Yorker's. So pull yourself together. Wear your old maid uniform, at least, if you can’t force yourself to wear this sexy one.”

“Sorry I can’t be like you and live in my suit 24/7. But I’d like to see you wear that thing and then tell me you’d want to spend time in it.”

Homelander’s mind feels like it shorts out and goes blank for a moment.

~~~

He brings the uniform he pulled out back to his own room. Starlight has no intention of wearing it or at least she didn’t voice any protest when he took it with him. He has no interest in the white and gold shapewear that might as well be a swimsuit and throws it on the bed, but he’s itching to touch the gold gloves and thigh-high boots. He remembers when he touched her gloves for the first time, holding hands as they walked down the red carpet after Translucent’s funeral. He was drawn to do it again down in the tunnels, patronizing her, grabbing her wrists as he told her to kill off her lowly on-again off-again boytoy. But he was touching them through his own thick gloves. It wasn't until assaulting her in the elevator that he really lost his mind over the way they felt as he snaked his hand down her body while she raised her arms up to protect herself.

Now he strips down with eagerness that surprises himself, and fucking moans when he touches her gloves with his bare hands. He tries to pull one of them on but to no avail. They’re small and tailored for thinner arms than his– and he’s so bad at estimating his own body size under the foam padding that he fully expected them to be able to stretch and fit. He can’t quite fit his feet into the boots either, even with the leg is unzipped all the way down to the ankle. All he can do is push his feet in as far as they will go, not quite able to fit his arch in, heel hanging over the edge.

This won’t do. 

~~~

When Homelander orders only the accessory pieces to Starlight’s deprecated uniform, but in a bigger size, the people in the costuming department look at him uncertainly.

“Is she wearing it again?” they ask, as if it's any of their business. “We weren’t aware her size changed.”

Homelander sighs at having to explain himself. “It’s not... for her. It’s for a different woman. Who’s a bit larger.” He realizes his tone sounds strange as he’s trying to come up with a good lie for why he needs this. “Can you just make them larger?”

“But sir, no one else is allowed to wear Starlight’s uniform, even the old version. It’s copyrighted…” the man with a ‘Steve’ nametag begins to stammer.

“Oh for crying out loud, this isn’t for wearing outside. It will only be worn behind closed doors, I promise you. And I trust I can ask to keep this discreet?”

The people behind the counter look at each other nervously, but smile appeasingly and nod and promise to deliver something for him in the next few weeks… days!, they quickly correct themselves when they see the irritation on his face at the long timeline.

~~~

He finds the package is delivered right to his door. Maybe the department downstairs were intimidated by him and dropped it off to avoid a conversation. Homelander thinks they’re being ridiculous. He’s given them no trouble, asked for no modification of his own suits– he’s requested very few changes since 1999. When he opens the box and unwraps the white tissue paper providing cushioning around the gloves and boots, he forgets all of his annoyance at them. The gloves are just like Starlight’s originals, not a knockoff material as he feared they might resort to if they no longer had the old one in stock. They’re thin and silky to the touch— and not very protective at all compared to his thick pleather ones. He strips down and tries to pull one of them on. It’s still a tight squeeze but he manages to get his hand into the glove, just a little too small. He can't really complain when he didn’t give them any exact specs. He pulls on the other glove too. They feel insanely good, smooth, lightweight, and he loves the feeling of them stretched all the way up to the middle of his upper arms. He sits on his bed and just rubs them up and down his own torso, touching his nipples, and running a hand down from his breastbone, past his navel and to his crotch. Its only takes a few strokes of his cock with the silky texture to get him hard. 

He pauses before riling himself up any further, and puts on the boots. They're also tight, but this time he can push his foot in and even zip up all the way up to mid-thigh. He walks to the mirror to really admire this, finding walking in heels unfamiliar but loving the extra height. He gets harder when he sees his pale, thin torso surrounded by gold-wrapped arms and legs. He's usually vaguely disgusted by seeing himself nude. His brain is used to the suit, and when it’s not hiding his deficiencies he looks bony, skinny, pathetic, as weak as he's afraid to be. But in this getup he enjoys being on the lean side. He keeps rubbing his hands up and down his torso, twisting and turning in front of the mirror, cupping his ass, shifting his weight from one leg to the other coyly, jutting his hips, even crouching down and doing an obscene spread of his legs. These gloves and boots are much more fun than his own, he is loath to admit.

Starlight’s an idiot. She had the best uniform in the Seven, if she had had any clue how to work it. She doesn’t seem to understand that part of her job being America’s Sweetheart on the Seven is having strong sex appeal, even if she’s marketed to be a little demure and provincial.

His cock is aching to be touched again, and he obliges, watching his motions in his reflection, coming with a groan all too quickly, and spraying the mirror’s surface despite standing more than a foot away.

[toursandjourneyworld]

Top 5 Things to Do in Sonamarg - Tour and journey

It was our Sonamarg day, a scintillating valley almost 90 kilometers from Srinagar. Altitude was around 9500 feet only above mean sea level, but due to its topographical proximity to the Three Kashmir Sisters (Mount Harmukh, Amarnath and Kolhoi), Sonamarg remains snow blanketed almost round the year, opened to public only for two months during April and May. Luckily we had been there in mid-May.

By road it takes around 5 hours from state capital Srinagar, via National Highway 1D. Road conditions are pretty good until Gund village; however it gets abruptly narrow after the last check post. Sonamarg, as the name suggests, means ‘Valley of Gold’. It got its name not because of any abundance of the glittering metal ore, but because of the golden gleam on snow by the rising sun. On a clear sunny day, when the rays fall on ice caps, they glitter like gold. Nevertheless, this span of higher Himalayas lacks wildlife, flora and fauna due to the frequent avalanches and heavy snowfalls. The three sisters of Kashmir seen at Sonamarg  lead to major glaciers like Thajiwas and Kolhoi.

Here are some of the top attractions which you must not miss during your trip to Sonamarg.

Thajiwas Glacier Trek: We parked the car at the roadside of basecamp area and took the pleasure of walking towards the snow on foot. One striking aspect of Sonamarg ’s mountains was the flat tops with gradual slopes. So high, yet no cliffs! One need to be an expert to climb up to the summits of Harmukh, Amarnath or Kolhoi, but amateur hikers with strong lungs may dare a trek up to the Thajiwas summit by foot or on horseback.

While casually hiking on the glacier, taking photo-breaks in between, we did not realize when we had lost our direction. Unknowingly, we had landed at a solitary corner, without realizing that we had actually reached the Thajiwas Glacier stage 0, aka the summit. Believe me, there were no lives around! Not even the army men.

On the glacial top, we were shocked to discover numerous skeletons here and there, scattered on the ground. The scene was so horrendous. You could see different skeletal parts of animals (hopefully, though all did not seem to be) – skull, leg bones, ribcages etc and no human beings around. Sweat droplets filled my forehead at that biting cold. Just imagine our dreadful condition!

Sledge Ride: Staying on the top for around 15 minutes, we decided to descend. Walking down, we passed by the Gaddi huts which I could remember seeing during our uphill trek. Within a few minutes, God knows, suddenly wherefrom three sledgewalas approached us for a snow ride. One of them told, if we agree, it would be their first income of the season. We did not take the risk of confronting them. They charged Rs. 300/- per person for an hour’s ride.

Who knew sledge riding was so difficult! You need so much of body balance to enjoy a fall-free ride. In fact, one must take a sledge ride to know what happens once you fall down. Finally, we reached the top in 60 minutes with muddy dresses and cold toes. Thankfully driver was not around, so I could change my dress inside the car.

Island Retreat Park: Near stage one of the Thajiwas Glacier, there was a small riverside restaurant named Island Retreat Park, claiming to serve hot and fresh foods like Kashmiri Wazwan, Kahwa, Kashmir special Fish fry, Mutton rogan josh etc. Unfortunately, during our time of visit hardly anything was available except tea, coffee, ice-cream and instant noodles. A nice wooden bridge connected the park with the mainland of Sonamarg valley. The foaming waters of Sindh Nalla flowing under the bridge offered a tantalizing sight.

Kheer Bhavan Temple: On our way back to Srinagar, there is a much revered Hindu temple called Kheer Bhavani Mandir. This is the sacred place where Swami Vivekananda could transform his Vedantin convictions into complete surrender to the Divine Mother. The antiquity of this ancient temple offers a very exciting story which connects to Hindu mythology. It is believed that way back during the Ramayana age, Ravana used to worship a rare form of Goddess Shakti named Maha Ragya Bhagwati (another name of Goddess Bhavani) who is considered as the embodiment of cosmic power and active energy. As mentioned in the epic, Ravana had established a small temple of Goddess Ragya at his golden capital in Lanka. Owing to his misbehaviour with Sita (who is also believed to be an incarnation of Goddess Ragya by a school of Kashmiri Pandits), the goddess ordered Rama to shift her from Lanka to this Kashmiri village named Tulmulla where Sita had spent couple of years during exile. Since then, Goddess Shakti is being worshipped at this ancient temple in the titular form of Devi Ragya. At present it is under the management of Dharmarth Trust of J&K.

Aman-ka-Phool (Flower of Peace): There is a huge Kund (holy pond) beside the temple which is surrounded by lofty Chinars and Mount Harmukh at the milieu – a personification of amity and tranquility. Just as we walked inside, the whole area was shining with white blooms of a very special tree, they say it’s called ‘Aman-ka-Phool’ (flower of peace) as this is the flower which is exchanged every day at the international border while greeting our friends from the neighbouring country.

It was almost five in the evening. After a tiring trip to Sonamarg, it was time for a dreamy escape to the world of snow under bed warmers. We reached our hotel by six and retired for the day.

[starsfic]

"You lost MK... in a POKER GAME?!" Pigsy yelled as the two monkey's shrunk.

"He's the one who made the bet!" Macaque threw his friend-turned-enemy-turned-whatever under the buss.

"YOU goaded me into keep playing!" Wukong immediately snapped back.

"I didn't tell you to bet the twerp, did I?"

"You were thinking it!"

Pigsy groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, okay, stop." This would continue for the rest of the day if they were left unchecked. The kid didn't have the time to wait for them to finish arguing. He took a deep breath. Wukong was still learning. He couldn't get mad at him. "Who, exactly, has the kid right now."

The moment he said it, a wide grin stretched across Macaque's face.

That wasn't a good sign.

"Oh, Peaches~" He cooed, grinning at Wukong. The gold monkey also had a wide grin on. However, it was the nervous grin. The grin that Wukong put on when he was trying to convince people he had everything under control. "C'mon, tell Pigsy who you gave the kid to."

"No."

"C'mon~"

"No, he'll kill me."

"No, I think he'll be happy you arranged such a golden opportunity."

"No, that'll just draw out my death."

"C'mon, tell Pigsy-"

"I'll kill you both if you two don't stop beating around the bush and tell me." Pigsy interrupted, glaring at them both. He wished he had his spoon. "Where is Qi Xiaotian?"

Wukong took a deep breath.

"With DBK."

-_-

This was so weird.

Red Son marched down the hall his father ordered him to. He wasn't sure why he had been dragged out of his workshop and ordered to come over here. He came to a stop to the double doors and glanced back down. "This room, Father?"

"Yes!" DBK called. Even at the end of the hallway, Red could see his father nod with a little proud grin. That was sending off warning bells. "And don't worry about your mother and I interrupting. I cleared your schedule out for a month."

Interrupting? And why a month?

That only furthered his unease.

Red took a deep breath and pushed open the door. The moment he entered and the door swung shut behind him, the lock clicking into place with an ominous little click, carefully arranged soft candles flicked to life. A roaring fire in the fireplace flipped to life with a perfectly timed spell, revealing rose petals and a small feast arranged on the table.

The centerpiece of the room, however, was the Noodle Boy perched on the bed, dressed in a beautiful red hanfu, golden ropes crisscrossing his body and tying his wrists together. The little centerpiece on that centerpiece was the staff, in small form, arranged in his hair carefully.

The mortal gave an awkward grin and a little wave. "Hi Red."

He faintly felt his hair flame up as his train of thought crashed.

Oh.

Oh, no.

[thekillingmoonmoon]

one | an encounter

don’t call it a fight when you know it’s a war

Pairing: Toman Timeskip! Hanma Shuji x Fem! Reader / minor Kisaki x Reader Warnings: NSFW, smut, drugs, blood, violence, death, guns, sex work, “infidelity”, Reader is as off the rails as Hanma Chapter specific warnings: Reader is a sex worker, discussion of sex work, discussion of violence, blood, Hanma being feral.

Masterlist

#TheCityAU

Your life ended the day you were sold to Toman. Your life as the eldest daughter of a Yakuza Legend ended, but you lived on, as the forgotten property of Kisaki Tetta. Forgotten, abandoned, until Hanma Shuji stumbled, bloody, beaten, and laughing, into your boring world.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

“Honestly, have you seen Smiley? He’s gorgeous. I wouldn’t mind having him every day,” a girl tittered, causing the other women to hush and hum.  “Yeah, but does he bring you any gifts? Koko brought me a new bag last week, all because I blew him in the car before that big meeting,” another chimed in, shaking her sparkling hands, adorned with jewels brought in as offerings by all her favourite customers. You sighed into your tea, wondering when your bedroom had become the impromptu meeting place of all the girls in the brothel. Women lay draped over every available inch of space, all bedecked in lace and frills, their tits barely covered as they spilt out over their glittering bras and dresses.   “That’s just because you haven’t had Inui’s cock,” a girl spoke, “once you’ve had that, shit like jewellery and new clothes don’t matter anymore!” “Really?” came the coos and questions, long smooth legs kicking languidly in the air. To anyone who was unaware of where they were, it would be like a little girl’s sleepover, except that everyone present was well past the age of teenage innocence and naivete. The pink was still there, in all shades of neon and fuchsia, leaving your room looking like a garden of psychedelic roses. 

You were just about to ask them to leave, to grant you a few hours of peace to do something besides talk about Toman’s top dogs and how they spent their lives (and their money) between your girls’ thighs. You had filing to do, and your monthly stipend was due next week. Your little sister’s school had just increased its fees, and you sighed, already preparing yourself for a month of tight budgeting and two-minute noodles. Thank God your owner was never around, you doubted you could do much besides bat your lashes before passing out from exhaustion, never mind servicing him with your body.

The door slammed open. He was huge. And bloody. His tie hung in a loose noose around his neck, his crisp white shirt stained scarlet in pretty patches down his side. His jacket was thrown haphazardly over his shoulders, equally coloured crimson by blood and lord knows what else.

 “Hello ladies,” he grinned, a glob of blood still trickling down his cheek. His glasses had slid down his nose, splattered so that he couldn’t see through the lenses. His hair tumbled to one side in a cascade of black and gold curls, raked boyishly to one side and smeared with detritus. “Girls, out.” You instructed, unfolding yourself from your bed. Who was this? You cycled through the various faces you'd seen come through the brothel doors over the last six months. The women were quick to react, scuffling upwards and shuffling out the door without a word, eyes wide as they stared at the intruder. He squinted at each girl as they walked past him, ducking below his outstretched arms until you were the only one left in the room. “Where’s Kandi? You know, with a ‘K’,” he slurred slightly, and you could see that one of his eyes had begun to swell blue. You gulped. This man was dangerous. “She left, last month,” you recalled the previous owner of this room. Oh, he was just lost. Just what kind of business was Kandi running that half-beaten and bloody men came storming into her rooms after 3 in the morning? “What? Fuck, man, she had a good cunt,” he gangled over to your couch and threw himself down with a huff. You groaned inwardly, that was real suede. “She was shit with bandages, but she had cute tits,” he mumbled, “what happened to her?” he tilted his head, somehow genuinely interested. You reached under your bed and pulled out a box. “She got bought out, one of the Toman men… Shiba? I think his name was Shiba. She said she’s having his baby.” You plonked the box on the table beside your couch. “So that kid and I have the same taste in broads, who would have thought?” he murmured beneath his breath. You pulled a towel out of your cupboard.

 “Get up and strip,” you instructed, missing the wide honey-eyed look he gave you. “Say that again, doll?” His voice dropped, but you held your ground. “Get up and take off your shirt, you’re staining my couch,” you commanded, looking up at him and raising your brows. Awkwardly, he stood. “Look, you ain’t exactly my type of woman, sweetheart,” he lied, looking over you, all dressed up with nowhere to go. He wondered what you wore beneath the silky satin of your bathrobe and would be sorely disappointed by the sensible cotton briefs and bralette you actually wore.  “What does that have to do with the fact that you’re bleeding?” you asked, throwing the towel over the couch and tucking it in place. You turned to face the stranger and reached for his shirt. You paused, only now noticing the supple straps of his gun harness around his shoulders. You shrugged, undoing the buckle that spanned across his broad chest.

“What’s your name?” he asked, staring down at you as you calmly began to unbutton his shirt. He hissed when you pulled the sticky fabric away from his torso. “D’ya want my real name or my alias?” you answered, standing on tiptoe to shuck his harness off his shoulders along with his shirt. You dumped the fabric onto the floor in a carmine colour heap and took his harness to hang it over a chair. You quickly slipped the gun from its holster and, with the gangster looking on in shock, unloaded the bullet magnum and switched the gun back onto safety with practised ease. “Both,” he breathed, quietly watching as you moved around him. You acted calm, but he could see the slight tremor in your hands as you grabbed a dish of warm water from your bathroom with a handful of rags. You gave your name, your surname ringing distant bells in the stranger’s memory. “But they call me Princess around here,” you wet a rag and with a gentle hand on his shoulder, willed the stranger to sit on your now-protected couch.

The stranger looked you over, suddenly entranced as you knelt between his knees. There, bathed in the lilac glow of the LED lights above your bed, you truly looked like royalty. He studied the planes of your face. You seemed to glow; hair neatly pulled back from your face as you looked over his body. “You not gonna ask who I am?” he suddenly asked. You shook your head, “It’s safer if I don’t know who you are, right?” you replied. He smiled. Clever girl. “I’m Hanma Shuji, from Toman,” he waited for your response. You paused, briefly, just enough for him to notice.  “The Reaper?” you clarified, and he nodded, “That’s me.” He waited for the awe, for the coos and wide-eyed stare, for the hand to make its way to the front of his pants. But instead, you just plopped a wet cloth on his skin. “Then how’d you get so beat up? Aren’t you meant to be good?” He leaned forward, into your space,

 “But I am good, doll,” he whispered, his honey sweet voice dropping dark and trickling in treacle streaks over your skin. You suppressed a shiver. “Ten fuckers tried to jump me on the way over, can you believe?” he smiled, and you could see the glimmer of his teeth in the low light. You unconsciously smiled back, close-mouthed but still softly grinning at the man. “Lemme guess, they got a surprise?” “If you call a fuckin’ fist to the face a surprise, doll.” “Well, it would be if you were expecting your target to come quietly,” you shrugged.  “You saying they expected me to come quietly? Me?” He giggled at you, “they must be crazy then.” “Not nearly as crazy as you,” you commented, dipping some cotton in alcohol and dabbing it on the gash between his ribs, the red spilling over the spidery script of his tattoos. He hissed in surprise. “I’m not as crazy as you are though, you should be scared of me, sweetheart,” he cooed, leaning forward to cup your jaw. He forced you to look at him, honeyed gold greeting the unwavering steel of your gaze. He smiled widely, loving the way your pupils dilated at the crazed look in his eyes.  “I never claimed to be sane, Mr Hanma,” you retorted, a sly grin sliding across your face at the glimmer in his eyes. He was beautiful. Beautiful, and dangerous. He let your face go and you got back to dabbing at his wounds with the blood-soaked rags.

“I’m gonna have to sew this fucker up,” you tapped at the deep scratch across his pectoral. He looked down in confusion, giving you a puppy-like pout. “Is it that bad?” You prodded at the wound,  “Yeah,” you ignored his groan of pain, “looks like someone brought a knife to your gunfight, Mr Hanma,” you commented. You got up and made your way over to your shelves. You retrieved the bottle of amber ambrosia and a glass. You opened the bottle for the first time, a naïve purchase you’d made on the off chance that your keeper ever came to give you a visit. You poured a generous two fingers of the whisky and handed it to Hanma. He gulped down half the liquid. “Twasn’t a gunfight, doll. Just a good fucking fight,” he grinned, you looked at him from the side, remembering how cold the barrel of the gun had been in your hands. Seems like he was telling the truth. “What happened to the men who attacked you?” you asked, threading a needle with surgical precision and steadying yourself against his arm before beginning the procedure.

 At this point you were half in his lap, half-clambered up onto the couch, your one leg slung over his spreadeagled thigh and your full bodyweight pressed down on his chest to keep your hands static as they looped the thread through his skin. Hanma clenched his teeth, his one hand coming up behind your back to grip at the sash of your gown. His hand was huge, his palm warm and broad over the small of your back. Your breath tickled his neck, your skin so achingly close to his exposed chest. He wondered what you would feel like, what noises you would make if he closed the distance between you if you would let him take advantage of you. But you paid him no mind, biting on your lip in concentration as you began to suture up the wound.

“Why, doll? Scared I’ll get jumped the minute I leave?” He cooed, trying to get a reaction from you. You raised your brows at him. “No.” You fibbed, instead wiping away the trickle of blood spilling from the stitches, “I’m worried they might come for the girls if they know you came here,”  “Oh,” the pout was almost palpable, almost. But he looked over your head taking in the open files lying around on your bed. “I thought Koko was meant to manage this place, don’t tell me he’s leaving this shit to his girls.”  “I’m not one of his girls,” you said simply, “so you can rest assured, Mr Hanma, Mr Kokonoi just his hands full,” full of money and gifts for the girls you grinned to yourself, wondering how much they had managed to scam out of the man this month. “You’re not one of his girls?” Hanma raised a brow at you. You were a whore, he was sure. From the room on the top floor of the brothel to the sweet scent of sex you exuded as you sat on his lap, you were a whore. A royal whore, but a whore, nonetheless. You shook your head. “I’m ‘kept’,” you explained, tying off the end of the wound and dabbing at the seam with more alcohol. “Ah, well then, sweetheart, who’s your keeper?” Maybe he could convince them to let him have a turn with you, that or threaten them into handing you over. You shifted off his lap, leaving him suddenly cold and slightly anxious. You scrounged in the box full of bandages and medicine.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you shot back, the name of your keeper burning bile in your throat. You swallowed down the venom you wished to spit out. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be in this situation, If it weren’t for him, you’d be happy playing house at home with your little sister, looking after your father as he lived out the last of his glory days. Instead, you were here, putting a stranger back together in your room in a brothel. You returned with a set of butterfly bandages, settling yourself over his thigh once more. You tapped Hanma’s cheek, getting him to tilt his head towards you. You got to cleaning the gash just below his eye. Up close, he was honey gold, gazing at you through half-lidded eyes, his hair swept up and back out of the way of your work. His hair looked soft despite the dye job, falling in a tumble of curls over the rim of his glasses, which you neatly removed and tucked into his open palm. 

“But I do want to know, sugar,” Hanma hummed, “I wanna know who’s leaving such a tasty treat like you all alone on a Friday night,” he reached up to curl your hair back behind your ear, twitching as you dabbed a bit too hard at his wound. You raised an eyebrow at him, “I thought I wasn’t your type?”  “I lied, sweetheart. It’s what I do,” he grinned, his hand finding itself softly gripping at your hip, Sin spanned over the silk of your nightgown as if he owned you. “Clearly,” you sniffed, “stay still,” you laid butterfly bandages across the gash, carefully bringing the edges of the wound together before laying down the sticky material. “Yes, ma’am,” he smiled, causing the wound to split open and you pinched his cheek. “I said, ‘stay still’,” you grumbled, readjusting the bandages once more.  “Yes, yes,” he waved you off, his fingers digging deeper into the soft flesh of your hip, and he hissed through clenched teeth as you wiped the area clean with alcohol.

 “Since when does a whore know first aid?” he rumbled, his hand keeping you still on his lap. You began cleaning up his other wounds.  “Since she grew up putting idiot gangsters like you back together,” you retorted. “Ouch, doll, not all of us are idiots,” he sidled, his thumb now rubbing soft circles into the satin silk of the robe. You resisted the urge to melt under his touch, to melt into him, despite it being so long since anyone had touched you, let alone held you. This man was deadly, you reminded yourself. He was a snake with flowers blooming from its mouth, each thorn dripping venom despite the beauty. You knew the danger those fangs posed, and you be damned if you would willingly submit yourself to his bite.  “Only idiots get this fucked,” you poked at the scratch you’d stitched back together, giving him a cheeky smile when he winced. “You should see the other guys,” Hanma bragged, “they’re not fuckin’ sitting around with pretty girls on their laps, that’s for sure,” he beamed at you, the sharp edge of his canines glinting in the lilac light spilling over the pair of you. You frowned, “And you won’t be either if you carry on with that,” you gestured to his roaming hands, immediately causing him to stop, his fingertips brushing over the top of your thighs, barely skimming beneath your robe to touch the soft skin below. He craved to grab you then, to take you, fuck whoever it was that ‘kept’ you. They clearly weren’t doing a good job, considering how neat and plain your room looked. Not a single jewel glittering in the trinket tray at your mirror, not a single scrap of silk lined the bed, leaving swathes of plain cotton to Hanma’s wandering stare.

“Fucker doesn’t ‘keep’ you very well, does he?” he commented, immediately feeling you freeze above him. You gulped. “He ‘keeps’ me alive, Mr Hanma, I think I should be grateful at least for that,” you mumbled, thinking back to the day you arrived here, the cold barrel of a gun prodding harshly at your back. You remember the scorn in your keeper’s voice, the way he kicked you to the floor in front of the new building that was to be your home. He was sickened by you, apparently, as if you’d asked to be sold off to him as his mistress in the first place. You scoffed to yourself. “I’m lucky enough to have been forgotten, Mr Hanma,” you pried yourself loose from his huge hands, sliding backwards and finding your feet. You stood holding out your hand to help him up “and I’d prefer to remain ‘forgotten’, do you understand?”

He towered above you, tall and foreboding, the shadow he cast onto you long and lean. He wrapped a single hand around your throat, Punishment loosely holding your jaw up to look into his golden eyes. Slowly, carefully, Hanma leaned down, placing a feather-light kiss upon your cheek. You flinched, unused to the ticklish sensation of his skin against yours. “But, doll, how the hell could I ever forget you?”

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I do not own Tokyo Revengers, or any of the related characters. Tokyo Revengers is created and owned by Ken Wakui. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of Tokyo Revengers belong to Ken Wakui. Please do not copy, re-use, or distribute this work as your own

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[smallestapplin]

Man I'm punching I wish I had a cute sugar daddy.

I have a dream about yandere Emmetdressing me up and heat fancy clothes the golden collar around my neck showing me off to his colleagues. He has a smug smile on his face noticing all the jealous looks he's getting.

That smile quickly fading when he notices that I'm getting a little too comfortable with another man. Bringing me here was supposed to be a treat for being a good girl...oh well punishment time.

and now that's all I've been thinking about for a week

RO! BELOVED! As noodle you blog still brings me joy, I hope I can do this justice. You’re wish is my command!

🔞18+🔞

CW : yandere, heavily implied Stockholm syndrome, spanking, choking, overstimulation, semi public area.

Lemme know if I missed anything!🔞

-

-

-

You had been so good! So well behaved too and what better reward than showing you off? Granted you will still be close to him and have a claim on you. But what’s the worst that can happen?

He dressed you so cutely too! Sun dresses were the perfect balance of casual and classy, those white thigh highs with hearts and flats to go with it make the whole outfit!

Oh and that new collar he bought you that matched! With a bright pretty heart shaped tag that had his name and number on it like you’d ever get lost!

Only the best for his beloved darling.

“You look so verrry cute! My beloved darling is just perfect!” Emmet coos, hugging you tightly and leaving kissing all over your face.

“Thank you Em.” You giggle, leaning into his affection.

“Hm I wonder if we have any bracelets to cover those marks on your wrist, I’m sorry I left you tied up for sooo long.” You watch as he runs around looking for the perfect set of brackets to hide the cuff marks.

You’d think with it being so long they would’ve healed by now.

“Perfect! The gold matches your collar perfectly, are you ready darling? Remember don’t stray far from me.”

“Of course.”

And you two were off to the office party.

All his colleagues were there and some with their families.

Emmet’s grin turned smug with all the looks you two were getting. You look so precious with your arm hooked around his.

Emmet always knew you were a looker and is proud to admit that. You’re his partner after all, and he wants everyone here to know it.

People came up to speak to both of you, some asked how you two met which he was happy to talk about. Love at first battle, truly!

But you also had other walk up to talk to you, you are their boss’s girl after all, it was only natural.

But after a few hours he noticed you weren’t against his side anymore. Looking to see where you were he feels his breathing catch in his throat.

You look so content with another man touching your arm, giggling and smiling at whatever you two are talking about.

Emmet can feel his blood boiling, rage over taking him as he watches this man trail his hand up and gently tug on your collar.

This was suppose to be a reward for being a good pet, and this is how you want to be? Fine, two can play at this game.

“Terribly sorry, but me and my wife must be off!” He grabs your arm and waves everyone off.

“But Em we-“

“Daring, aren’t we?” His cold tone made you quiet.

Emmet pulls you out of the party but not out of the building, taking you down a hallway right to his office.

He shoves you in and locks the door.

“Now what was that?” Emmet’s grin is nothing but filled with malice.

“What was what?” You try to hide your smile, knowing what’s coming next

“Oh you want a punishment, don’t you? Well darling happy to provide, after you let another man touch what’s mine.”

You moan when he grips the ring of your collar and yanks you towards him. Slamming his lips against yours and shoving his tongue into your mouth.

His hands slide up your legs and grasp the backs of your thighs, lifting you up and dropping you on his desk. Breaking the kiss with a yelp once you felt the hard wood of the desk beneath you.

“I’m going to make sure you and everyone else in the building knows you’re mine.”

Emmet rips your underwear off you. Grabbing your thighs before yanking you down so your flat on your back and ass hanging off the desk.

“Aw my little darling, wet already? You were thinking about this weren’t you?” Emmet teases. Flipping your dress up he crouches down and settles himself between you legs.

Hands gripping your legs to keep them apart, cooing when he sees how your slick trickles down and onto the floor. Emmet leans in and gives an attentive lick, then another before he spits on your hole, wrapping his arm around your hips to hold you still. Freeing up his other hand up, he moves two fingers to rub your spit covered hole, pushing them in while he sucks on your clit.

You feel him hum against you while you squirm, hand over your mouth to try and stay quiet. But emmet isn’t going to help you.

In fact he pushes his fingers in to the last knuckle, thrusting them in your slowly before crooking the upwards. Laughing against you when your back arches.

The loud and wet sounds coming from your cunt while Emmet finger fucks you are obscene. You can’t hold back your sounds anymore when you lightly sucks your pulsing nub.

“F-fuck!” It feels so good, you’re almost there!

“Noooo!” You whine when he pulls away from your dripping pussy.

You quickly silence yourself as he grips your chin and gets eye level with you, his silver eyes glowing in the dim light of the office.

“You will take what I give you, understand?”

“Yes sir.” You just want to cum so badly.

“Good little darling.” He leans back up, moaning as he licks his fingers clean.

You hear the sound of his pants dropping. You squirm, already so pent up and just wanting him to fuck you.

His cock is already drooling, he is just addicted to you! He grinds himself against you, making sure his dick is coated in your slick.

“Mm, do you think that bastard will hear you? I think so, in fact? I hope so.”

That was you only warning before he slams himself into you. He laughs and coos in between his own gasps.

While you toss your head back and scream out, the pleasurable burning of the stretch he gives you. It’s too much.

Emmet keeps his eyes locked where you two meet, you’re clenching him so tightly! And gushing too. He must’ve not given you enough time to wind down before starting.

“Are you cumming already? Such a naughty darling!” He bites back his own moan and starts a rough pace.

He shows no mercy, fucking you through your orgasm. You keep crying out, legs around his hips, arms around his shoulders, clawing and gripping at his coat.

“Listen to you, you sound like suuuch a whore! Mmhm! My whore is so good at taking my cock.”

He angle’s his hips and shifts your hips higher to repeatedly abuse and slam against that sweet spot inside you.

You squeal, tears filling up your eyes from all the pleasure.

“Your whore! Only yours!” You’ve been through this long enough to know what he wants.

“Ah! My darling.” Emmet leans down and gives you a sloppy kiss.

You hold him close. Eye squeezing shut, your sounds muffled by his intense wet kiss. You throw you head back once more.

“Cumming! Please!” You don’t know what you’re pleading for.

He doesn’t slow down. He moves a hand from your waist to you clit, rubbing it in tight circles.

Emmet’s mouth is agape, drool dripping down, his face as flushed as yours, he can’t get enough of the feeling of you.

Especially the way you cum, like now, back arched, hips grinding against him for more, sounding like a cock hungry whore.

“So good f’me! Mm maybe I can make you louder.”

“W-wait, Emmet, please do-“

He was already pulling out of you, flipping you over, hands gripping your hips, making sure your chest is flat against his desk and ass in the air before he plunges back into you.

“You’re gonna cum for again like a good girl.”

Your collar’s tag jingles loudly with the rough movements. You yelp when you feel his hand connect harshly against your ass.

“Ooo I liked those sounds.” You can only squeal with each smack.

His thrusts constantly hitting your end, the pain of his smacks mixing with the pleasure.

Your ass is burning by the time he stops. Your collar is a little twisted after all this, which is perfect for him.

You feel Emmet lean over a little before your collar is turned, the d-ring now facing him, and with a quick pull your back bows out.

“Now normally I like my hands around your throat, but this works.” He pants. Your choked gasps and strained moans going straight to his cock. His teeth digging into your exposed shoulder and side of your neck.

You grip the edges of the desk, eyes rolling back. You move your hips with his. He lets go of your collar allowing you to breath.

You gasp for air, sobs quickly mixing with your breathing.

“G-gonna cum! It’s too muuch! Emmet! Fuck!”

“That’s right, cum for me.” He moans

He slips a hand down to play with your sensitive pussy once more.

Crying out with you as you both cum.

“Such a good pretty girl! My darling! All mine!”

His cum fills you up, almost too much as it drips onto the floor.

You fall limp, chest heaving.

“Em.” Your voice was so soft and hoarse while you blindly reach for one of his hands.

He lays carefully on top of you, taking a hold and placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Are you alright enough to make it home?”

You numbly nod your head. Emmet rubs your cheek with the back of his other hand.

“Good, cause you’re walking out of here with my cum dripping out of you, your torn underwear is useless to you, buuut it’s staying with me.”

You flush l, it’s going to be so embarrassing to do so, but at least this punishment was lighter than the last.

But the look in his eyes tells you it’s just starting.

[gucciwins]

The First Kiss

Harry and Y/N go on their first date...will they finally become something more?

Word count: 4814

A/N: I know how much you all love breakout room and the follow up it's your birthday. I love writing them and it's been a while but do know they are doing well. this is nothing but sweet fluff. I do mention the vaccine and wearing masks which I hope you all are doing. it's important to stay safe and truly wish nothing but the best for you all. I love you xxx

please reblog and let me know your thoughts

_____

“Are you feeling good? I sent over a goodie basket.”

Harry giggled, loving how concerned you were. “I’m doing good, baby.” He sees you tuck your head into your sweater smiling, when he notices it’s the one he sent you in a goodie basket after you got your second shot of the vaccine.

It’s spring break, and Harry can finally say he is officially vaccinated after letting the mandated two weeks pass. It’s perfect timing, honestly, as he has been itching to finally see you in person again.

Your university let you know that they would begin to have vaccine dates open to students through an email that you quickly forwarded to Harry. You had to register to get a date for your first vaccine, and slots were filling up fast. You shot Harry multiple texts telling him what day you got and time, but you went without an answer for an hour which is weird, seeing as Harry never liked to leave you waiting more than five minutes.

By the time he got back to you, he had to wait two weeks, unlike you, who would be getting in only three days. You asked why he didn’t answer, and he said he was in class. You frowned because even then, he always answered. He then confessed he lost his phone in his apartment and didn’t have time to search for it.

You laughed about it, but he was disappointed because he wanted to see you. To give you a hug. To hold your hand.

After spending his birthday together, you both decided against meeting in person for safety even though you both wanted to, more than anything. You postponed your date to the future. Instead, you completed the group assignment through zoom meetings that led to facetime calls. After submitting the project and learning that you aced the assignment, well, you both caved in.

Harry gushed on how he always got B’s on the professor’s assignments, and to celebrate, he sent you a dozen cupcakes from the bakery that you never stop raving about located only three blocks from where you live. Then proceeded to call him over to celebrate and who was he to say no. Harry was shocked at how rich and full of flavor they were because he wasn’t aware it was vegan. Yet, it tasted better than anything he ever had. Harry realized why it was your favorite, promising to take you there in person to have your pick of favorites and not only red velvet and carrot cake because they were safe choices.

You couldn’t say you’ve been on a proper date with Harry, but you’d like to count all the zoom calls and facetime calls as dates not that you let Harry know it would only inflate his ego. You’d start a call to ask a question on assignments, and it would lead to sharing stories back and forth of what their favorite book was to where they would visit if they could go that very second. You loved how insightful he was, also liked how he used pastel highlighters to mark his annotations. Harry was a fan of how you always had a pencil in your hair or behind your ear. How you always had a snack on hand because you didn’t want to listen to professors without something to eat or you’d lose focus.

You were glad you’d be able to get together safely but also taking all the needed precautions. Safety is hot, as Harry liked to say all the time when you sent him photos of you wearing your masks.

“Yeah, like the basket?”

Harry grins, but it’s not as bright due to the lacking pixels of your laptop. He holds it up, having placed it in his lap. “I did love the bath bombs.”

You smile back at him, “Going to change your life. Self-care is important, bub. Even in the smallest ways as a bath.”

Harry nods, “I know, baby. The reason I remember to take deep breaths each morning, no longer eager to reach for my phone.”

“Proud of you.”

“And I of you, baby.”

Harry shines his dimples at you when you turn your head away at the sweet name he started calling you a few weeks ago. You adored it, honestly, but it always left you feeling flustered.

“H, please.”

“Baby, I like seeing you flustered.”

“You’re a menace.”

He shrugs, still giggling.

“How are Mitch and Sarah?”

“Wonderful, sickly in love as always. Spend their time at Sarah’s like composing together.”

“That’s sweet.” You lean in, smiling at him, “you know we should all hang out together. I get to meet Mitch properly and see Sarah again, and you’ll get to meet Amy.” You grow excited at the thought.

“Not before I get to see you.”

“H, we got to coordinate a day that works for all of us. No need to get jealous.”

“Not jealous.”

“Sure,” you reply sarcastically.

“Got to learn to share me with Amy. I cook her lunch and dinner; otherwise, she’d be nothing but a walking cadaver.”

“I want you to make me lunch and dinner,” he pouts.

“I can now that you’ve vaxxed.”

“That I am, so you are.”

“Yes,” you’re waiting for him to go on.

“Will you go on a date with me? Think we waited long enough, and if my feelings weren’t obvious enough, I like you and really want to take you out.” he rambles on.

You interrupt him knowing fully well he could go on for days, “I’d love to, Harry.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yes, Harry.”

“Great. Friday then.”

“I’m free.”

“I know, know your schedule by heart.”

“Creep,” you gasp at the news.

“Shush, like you don’t have my classes added to your planner.” Your turn to pout.

“I like knowing your schedule, and they overlap.”

“I do too. Look forward to your messages every day between classes.”

“So Friday? What are you planning?”

“A picnic.”

You jump up in excitement, causing your laptop to fall back on your bed before you dive to save it. Harry yelling dramatically in the background as if you just dropped him.

“H, be quiet. You’re fine.”

“Dropped me, darling.”

“Dork.”

He mutters something in return, but you can’t hear him.

“So I’ll prepare lunch because you’ve told me once or twice that you’re hopeless in the kitchen.” Harry doesn’t even try to fight you because it’s true. “You’ll take care of drinks and desserts.”

“Seems like you’re planning the date,” he teases.

“I like picnics.”

“Well, I like you, so I’ll let you take over.”

Your smile turns soft, reaching your hand out as if you could reach in and caress him. “I like you, too. I can’t wait to give you a hug.”

“Counting down the hours.”

“Alright, you have class in ten, and you always struggle to log in.”

“Making me hang up. Not fair.” Harry frowns, debating skipping class for you.

“Don’t think about it, Styles.”

“Fine. Take care, baby.”

“Bye, H.”

A date.

You have a date with Harry.

Finally, it happened.

_____

You were nervous.

Why were you nervous? It was just Harry.

Harry, who wanted to date you from your first meeting, who emailed you asking you out, and who has not stopped talking to you since February. Constantly reminding you of his feelings for you. You hope he knew you felt the same, in texts and sending him little gifts even as small as writing him a letter.

You got up early today to prepare lunch. You decided on sandwiches, a non-messy meal, and Harry always said he wanted to try the bakery bread you use and not the basic store-bought. It was a bit pricey but not as much anymore because you had become a regular, meaning the sweet owner began giving you a discount, especially when finding out you're a student. Still, you always remember to leave a good tip. The turkey sandwiches were finished with cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. Looked so good that Amy had one as you were making them. You made three and packed them up in your glass reusable containers.

Staring at the sandwiches, it felt like too little food when Harry had told you many times how much he enjoys eating, so you cleaned up and got to make a second meal. You decided on vegetable rice paper rolls. A favorite and easy meal to make that you enjoyed eating. It was packed with lettuce, avocado, cabbage, bell peppers, cucumbers, noodles, and fresh herbs. This was a meal your dad made you all the time as a child with the special slightly spicy peanut sauce that you could drizzle on top.

Harry was going to enjoy this, so you hoped. He promised to make strawberry lemonade. Assured you that it would not be store-bought, and you believed him. During one of your late conversations, he shared how his sister would make him some when she returned from uni. Reminds him of home, he would say.

After packing everything away in the fridge to keep it cool it was time to get ready. You stood in front of your closet for a good five minutes before you began to swipe through the hangers. You knew you wanted to wear a dress; it was warm weather and would only get hotter as the day went on.

You searched your entire closet, there were three options once you had decided on, but you called Amy in to make the final decison for you. She decided on the one sitting in the middle of your bed, which was exactly what you were thinking.

The dress was a white button-front high slit that fit you nicely. You hadn't used it in quite some time, seeing as when you left your apartment, it would be in leggings, sweats, and the first sweater you could slip on.

You couldn't stop looking in the mirror, loving how it flowed around you when you twirled. For accessories, you slipped on a gold ring that had a little heart on it and another that was a gift shaped like a small snake as it was going to scale down your finger. A simple heart locket gifted to you by your grandparents hung right above your cleavage. You decided to leave your hair natural, liking how it air-dried after the shower you had that morning.

There was no makeup on your face, just your favorite rosebud salve lip balm that left your lips soft. Amy insisted you put some on, but you stood firm in your decision, knowing you'd be wearing a mask and didn't want anything smudging.

You looked down at the time on your phone and knew it was time to head down, Harry said twelve, and you didn't want to make him come up to your apartment only to walk down the three levels again. You grabbed the picnic basket that was sitting in the back of yours and Amy's shared doorway closet and made sure to place everything neatly, leaving room for Harry's drink and stashing a bunch of napkins in for any accidents. Basket prepared, you slipped your sunglasses in your hair, placing your lavender tote bag with tiny embroidered daisies on your shoulder that contained sunscreen, your wallet, extra face masks, and a book Harry had told he had wanted to read.

Before opening your door, you put on the white mask that you embroidered sunflowers on. It was one of your favorites, and glad it complimented your look well. You walked down the stairs slowly, not wanting to drop the basket.

You walk out the front door and find Harry getting out of the yellow mask on his face. As you get closer, you can see it's the one you made him. It has bees on it, and embroidered on the left side is 'my honey.' Harry had turned quite pink when he opened the gift he got in the mail over facetime with her. You happily screenshot his reaction, happy to have it to look back on.

As soon as you reach him, it's as if all the nerves you had disappeared. Calm washes over you as he comes to stand in front of you. You can't see the smile he has, but the crinkles by his eyes prove he's just as happy to see you.

"Hi, Harry," you say, your eyes taking him all in.

Harry doesn't hide, he's checking you out, and you're thankful for the mask at the moment, able to hide how bashful you're feeling. "Hello, baby. You look gorgeous. I'm a lucky man."

"Yeah," you swayed side to side, "gave me a reason to dress up."

"Always beautiful, but I'm so glad to see more than just your shoulders." He laughs, and you join him.

"Look pretty, H. I had not seen this cardigan." You reach out, running a finger down over the pastel yellow cardigan that looks to be well-loved. He paired it with a plain white shirt that fits him loosely with Gucci denim trousers that he told you he found a few years ago when he was thrift shopping in London with his mother.

"No, brought it out just for you. Wanted it to match my favorite mask." Although he couldn't see it, you hoped your eyes were doing their job expressing your joy. "Let's put this basket in the trunk. Got a blanket and a few pillows as well as the lemonade."

"And the dessert?"

He chuckles, "and the dessert."

You place everything in the trunk, taking a step back for Harry to close it. He walks you over to your door, opening it for you, you offer a soft thank you, but before you get in, you turn to look at him.

"What is it, baby?"

You stare down at your ribbon-tied wedges before looking up into his piercing green eyes. "Can I have a hug? I just--I'm really happy to see you."

Harry falters for a second before answering, "of course, come here." He's quick to bring you in for a hug, and it feels like home. It's comfortable, and you can't believe you haven't hugged him since February, a good two months ago, when it has honestly felt like a lifetime. "I would have earlier, but when you came out, you truly shocked me with how amazing you looked."

You just hug him tighter, enjoying feeling his strong arms around you. He looks at you smiling. "That was nice." You nod because it was, and if he'd let you, you'd stay in his arms all day.

"Well, shall we go?"

"We shall."

And with that, you were off to your first date with Harry, which would hopefully lead to more.

_____

The drive to the park was short; you unloaded everything from the car once you got there. Harry offers to carry the basket, letting you lead to picking the spot. You walked ahead, glad he brought you to a park you recognized; it's one you liked to walk around during finals week when you were drowning in essays and exams. This was a nice break. On the other side of the park is a lake where you can rent pedal boats, but you were sure they hadn't opened up for business just yet, wanting more of the population to be vaccinated.

You led him to a secluded area laughing when he joked if you were leading him to his murder. Once you reached the clearing, one large tree with lots of shade and a few rose bushes surrounded it.

"It's beautiful here." Harry awed in amazement.

"Yeah, I found it my first year when I was trying to destress; I don't think many people know about it because it's not on the maps."

"Lucky us."

Harry grabs one end of the blanket, helping you spread it on the grass. You set your tote bag on one corner as well as setting down the pillows. As you make your way to sit down, Harry gently grabs your elbow, causing you to turn and look at him; he's holding a bouquet of tulips.

You felt your eyes well up with tears, not used to such a kind gesture; it's been a long time since you've been on a date with someone you really care about, "You got me tulips, H."

You reach forward and cradle them in your arms. "Course I did; I think you deserve all the beautiful things life has to offer."

You set the flowers on top of the basket before straightening up and pulling Harry into a hug. Your arms around his neck, his resting tightly around your waist, "including you," you whisper in his ear, causing him to squeeze you a bit tighter. Harry pulls back, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Let's eat, baby. Know you made something delicious for us to enjoy."

Harry set the food out, and you are sure to hand him the wet wipes to clean your hand before you could begin wanting to be clean and not wanting to venture out to find a restroom. He eyed the sandwiches first, then the veggie rice paper rolls.

"Couldn't decide?"

"Wasn't sure what you'd like. So I gave you two options."

"Too sweet angel." Harry leans in to kiss her cheek.

"Think we ought to take off the mask now." You giggle, sad you didn't get to feel his lips on your cheek.

"Yeah, so comfortable it doesn't really bother me wearing them. I am hungry."

You place your mask in your bag, and Harry puts his mask in his pocket. He opens up both containers and digs into the veggie rolls first. He hums after the first bite, chewing happily. "Delicious," he mutters between chews.

"Can add this peanut sauce to give it more flavor, just a tad bit spicy." He watches you as you pick up and spoon drizzle a bit on top, taking a bite. Harry follows your steps taking another bite, and his eyes go wide at the added flavor.

"Shocked, I've lived all my life without this food."

You laugh, "well, now you don't have to."

He chews happily at your response.

_____

Lunch is filled with little conversation, both praising each other for a well-planned meal. The strawberry lemonade complimenting the food perfectly. He brought a raspberry lemon loaf cake for dessert, and you happily admit you ate two pieces. It tasted so heavily, making Harry promise you to buy more in the future for you. He agreed, stating he'd do anything to make you happy.

"It's nice going out with someone, enjoying the sweet fresh air." Harry comments.

You hum in agreement, "I adore my alone time, but with the right company, it can feel just as perfect."

Harry's cheek turns rosy pink quickly, not at all trying to hide from you. You love that he loves to show how much you affect him.

"It feels normal like we've done this hundred of times already.”

You chuckle, nudging his shoulder. "It's cause we have. Just never called any of them dates."

"So you agree, we've been dating since February," he teases.

"Yeah, I think we can say that."

"When was our first zoom call?"

"Hmm...after class a week after your birthday. Think we worked for an hour and talked about nothing for another."

You look over at Harry loving how the sun reflects off his skin; it makes him look like a gift from the Gods. Harry feels your gaze on him, flashing you a big grin, his dimples on display just for you, because of you.

"We will call February eighth our anniversary," he declares.

You laugh, not a silent one but a full-out belly gripping laugh; you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Harry sits there confused, not sure where the joke was.

"You alright, baby?" He asks, just a bit concerned.

"That is what you were thinking so hard about; you couldn't figure out a week from your birthday quickly. Took you a good few minutes." You shake your head, trying to catch your breath, tiny giggles still escaping you.

"Oi, no need to be rude."

"Sorry, honey."

"Never claimed to be smart."

"The pretty ones never are," you tease.

"Alright, that's it. I've had enough."

Before you can stop him, he's on top of you, his fingers tickling you from your sides to your thighs. He knows your body getting all your secret spots that make you squirm away from. You almost succeeded in getting one of his hands over your head, but he surprises you by straddling you. You've stopped laughing, but Harry keeps going.

His curls are falling over his head, his eyes shining bright, a new lightness to them. At that moment, you realize how lucky you are, and before you know it, you reach your free hand up and place it on the back of his neck, bringing him down to your lips catching him by surprise.

Harry stays frozen for a second before sinking into the kiss, responding softly, wanting to explore you as he'd been thinking about this moment for months. You love the feel of his lips against yours; you'd happily give up breathing, never wanting to part. Harry tries to pull away, but you chase his mouth, not ready to stop kissing. He smiles against your lips, humming when he places a hand on your cheek, adding more pressure; you're not sure who lets out a moan letting it out into the universe wishing for more, hoping for forever.

You don't get butterflies or fireworks. Instead, you feel the ease of calmness wash over you like when you arrive home after a long day. That's what kissing Harry is like coming home.

You pull back, laying your head on the pillow Harry was wise to bring; you don't try to contain your smile as Harry stares down at you in a look of awe. You run your thumb over his bottom lip-loving how swollen they look thanks to you. His eyes never leave yours; you gasp as he places a kiss on your thumb before taking it in his mouth, sucking it gently; a moan escapes you, surprised at how hot the teasing is getting you.

"You're filthy, honey."

Harry smirks, "just for you, baby."

"Only our first date, H. We aren't going to move fast."

"A makeout isn't too fast for you," he teases.

"Felt just right." You smile, loving the feeling of his weight on top of you as he has not moved from his position, still straddling you.

"I agree."

"Sorry, I didn't ask if I could kiss you. Consent is sexy."

Harry's smile is soft, his eyes flicker to your lips, then back to your eyes, "You hereby have permission to kiss me whenever you please, my love."

"You know all the right things to say to make me puny for you."

"Good to know. Got to keep a mental list."

"What's on there so far?"

Harry smirks, leaning down his mouth right over your mouth; you remember the taste of lemon you felt when you kissed him, and well, you don't try to stop yourself when you attach your lips against his. There's no sweeter feeling, you've decided.

He pulls back, keeping the kiss short, "Know you can't be close to me without giving me a kiss. Know your heart is racing like it might beat out of your chest, and I know you're dying to ask me to be your boyfriend."

"Guess you are smart," you whisper.

He chuckles, nudging his nose against yours, humming as he places a kiss on the top of your nose.

"You know, I was right."

"Yeah, about what, H?" You reach your hand up to run your hand through his curls, brushing them back, giggling as they fall forward again.

"That your laugh sounds better in person. Know it's cheesy but truly music to my ears."

"You nutter!"

"Oi, picking up my slang, are you?"

"Got to, especially when you called that Evan kid a wanker for dismissing my response." You snicker, remembering the moment a few classes ago when you spoke up to give your opinion only for Evan trying to mansplain how women in politics were growing already especially having a female-run as a candidate a few years back. You would have cussed him out, but Harry did it for you. He packed up all your points with his own references. Safe to say, Evan has not spoken up since then.

"Cause he is one. You're the smartest person in the class, and that tosser should not even be in this class. Clearly, hasn't learned one bit since January."

"Settle down, honey. All in the past." You pat his chest a few times, getting his focus back on you. "Got that book you've wanted to read, want to give it a read now?"

"Course, baby. Happy you had it in your collection." He's gotten back into reading now that he seemed to have more time on his hands, and they had been bouncing recommendations off of each other. You had told him to stay off Book Tok because it was the same ten books being promoted by every page. His sister told him to read The Silent Patient, but he couldn't rationalize spending fifteen dollars, and he couldn't find the free pdf. He asked you and told him Amy bought it for you as a gift for feeding her.

"Let me get it out of my bag; you can lay in my lap easier to listen to."

Harry's eyes go wide; you're going to read him. He did not expect that, but he had to make sure. "Going to read to me, darling?"

"If you don't mind." you tuck your hand into your tote bag again, "brought my kindle in case you didn't want to. Won't be sad if you don't want to."

"No, I want you to. Yeah, more than anything. Got the prettiest voice." Harry pecks your lips, pulling back giddy because that's the first time he's kissed you, and well, he has to do it again. Your lips move in sync, the kisses feeling smoother but just as passionate. You break the kiss, playfully push him away, hands-off, letting you adjust yourself before he sets one of the smaller pillows in your lap and lays his head. Your hand is quick to find a place in his hair, thankful you've mastered the one hand reading and page-flipping due to always having a book in your hand growing up.

_____

After reading for a bit, Harry lifts his head from your lap, taking the time to admire you. You kept reading, letting him take you in from this new angle. You stopped brushing his hair instead, allowing yourself to get immersed in the book once again. You giggled, thinking back at Harry's reaction to the opening line of chapter one.

You had just flipped to a new page, ready to start chapter seven, when you saw how fidgety Harry had gotten. He clearly had something on his mind, so you wanted to give him his space; you had only read five words when he spoke, interrupting you.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" Harry blurts, shifting to sit in front of you.

You don't smile, but you know he can see the gleam in your eyes at his words, "Hmmm...will you give me a cute nickname?"

Harry doesn't know what you're doing but goes along with it. "Already do, so yes."

"Will you let me make you more masks?"

"Yes."

"Will you knit me a sweater?"

"I'll knit you hundreds."

You nod, "then yes, I'll be your girlfriend."

"Yeah, you want me to be your boyfriend," Harry teases.

"Dork," you shove his shoulder, causing him to fall back. He gasps in shock.

You laugh, and it's music to his ears; his dramatic response is swallowed as he takes you in. Harry isn't sure where he'd be without you. He takes in the happiness displayed on your face and knows if you could look in a mirror, he'd look just as happy if not more. You are a light in his life.

These last few months have changed everything about him. Harry hadn't really understood what it meant when people said that your partner should also be your best friend. He thought it was cheesy and something to give false hope to others, but with you, he knew it was true.

Starting off as friends built a strong foundation for you both to grow together, and he is forever thankful you took a chance on him.

Harry called it fate, but you well, you think it was all thanks to the zoom gods who set you up in a random break out room not once but twice.

_____

thank you for reading :) I adore you xx

[pettybetty69]

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

Young T'Challa x Enhanced!reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Masterlist | Growing Up

September 1995

"Breakfast!" Your lively Zia, Franca Vitale belted to the house from the kitchen.

The fit, curvesome woman walked in and searched the kitchen for a glass of water. She was fresh off her morning run with her equally fit and sweaty son, Delfie. You followed behind less graciously, legs feeling like noodles, coming to the realization of how out of shape you had gotten over the summer.

With a chug of cold water, the smell of smooth cappuccino and well-seasoned frittata that fermented the Medditerarian kitchen became comfortably apparent.

Your Zio, Roberto Bruni busily made breakfast for himself and the rest of you, excluding Luca and Meera who were out of town for work. Franca traveled over to her partner and delivered a verse of sweet pet names and juvenile flirting. She wrapped her fit arms around his middle-aged waist. He laughed at his partner of nearly two decades and reciprocated the cheesy heartfelt messages.  A typical morning affair for them.

Delfie raided the fridge to check on his latest food experiment, and you collapsed into a seat at the island next to your cousin, Paolo. You looked at him with pity and pushed forward a steaming cup of cappuccino. His back was hunched with solemnness.

The day prior, a contraption he invented went terribly wrong and blew up in his face. His face was fine, as the Elementals healing light repaired his skin in a matter of moments. However, his hair was too late to save.

“It doesn’t look that bad.” You comforted, referencing his freshly shaved, pointy head.

“Your lies sicken me.” The lengthy, lean boy moodily stated. But yet, he took a sip of the drink.

"Thanks." He muttered quietly.

“Delfie, go ensure your sister isn’t staring at herself in the mirror again.” Franca ordered her son, entangled with Roberto.

His selective hearing unintentionally (most likely intentionally) dismissed his mother's request and remained hyperfocused on his homemade Feta cheese he carefully unwrapped.

"Delfie!" She called again.

“There’s no need! I’m here and in love!” Serafina airily announced as she arrived in the kitchen. 

She was dressed in a long, black satin skirt and a bold, red and black top. The young teenager's lips were painted an expressive red and her mother’s gold jewelry dangled from her thin neck.

“You look to die for, baby. But, no. Put it back."

"But Mama, it pulls it all together! I swear I'll take care of it!" She begged.

This wasn't wrong. Fina always had a taste for aesthetics. Your father always thought so. Her time-dedicated, glossy curls surrounding her pretty amber face only proved it. But her track record for returning things intact.....

"When I see years of hard work and an accumulated salary, I'll consider it."

"I'd just buy my own at that point!" She protested, confused.

"Exactly." Franca mischievously smiled and removed the necklace from her saddened daughter.

"Fina, this 'love' better be from staring at yourself in the mirror for too long. Stay away from my friends! Dante lost the game due to his heart that you broke." Delfie angrily refuted, averting from his cheese. 

“I can't help it that he was in love with me. Anyway, I’m not talking about myself this time, Delfie.” She spat her twin's name with venom. “You'll be relieved to hear it’s about Mateo, the man of my dreams.”

Her gush earned a collective sigh from those in the room.

The thing is Serafina fell in love every other week. You didn’t understand it. In the seven years since your father's death, she and Delfie adjusted to society quite quickly compared to you and Paolo. They made friends easily and had grown quite a popularity. Considering this, along with her recent hit of puberty, and the age of rushing hormones it wasn’t uncommon for an anonymously sent bouquet of flowers to arrive from an admirer in the same hopeless condition.

If you were lucky, she would have grown bored of the boy within a number of weeks and moved on to the next. If not, days made for a nice cup of tea from the sadness-fueled rain storms or the path of pissed-off flames that would follow her stomping feet. 

“Another boy already, Fina?” Franca gasped with disbelief.

Serafina strolled over in a love-struck sweep and kissed her mother's cheek.

"Of course, Mama. I like to keep things spicy."

"For Adoni's sake, Fina. What happened to Dante? A bit dense, but a nice boy." Roberto, her father, shook his head. Despite it, she kissed his cheek next to his now graying mustache.

He struggled to keep up with her dating life and truthfully wasn't too pleased about her revolving door. But he knew the mother of his children, and that Franca was just the same in her youth. His mood dimmed thinking about the hell your father would give him if he knew.

"'Nice' is all Dante is, Papa. He's passionless, zestless, he's more boring than Alessa!"

"Hey!" You shouted in defense.

Delfie burst into hysterics, now seemingly listening. "You're- You're seriously shocked?" He managed to get out between his spurts of laughter.

“Rude much?” You countered.

"I'm Alessa, I'm so fun and interesting." He mocked with his hands on his hips in a high tone, bending over with laughter.

You glared at him with deadpan.

"Nah, he’s right." Paolo spoke as if it were obvious. "You're Italian and Argentinian, you should be madder than all of us." The cousin who was supposed to have your back stated in clear agreement.

"After the coffee I made you…." You snatched the cup straight as he was drinking it. A few splashes splat on the table as you glared and went up to make yourself an expresso.

Serafina strolled over to you. An up-to-no-good smile came upon her plump red lips. Following her strut, mischievous purple Clematises sprouted through the seams of sandstone floors.

“So, Alessa." She leaned against the counter beside you. "A little birdy told me that Emilio was eyeing you at the party last Friday."

"I know where you're going with this so don't even start, Fina. No!"

Emilio was your first ever friend. You met when you started school not long after your father died. He had summer skin and kind brown eyes. He was half Argentinian like you. He had always been sweet to you and would invite you to play soccer with him and his friends on the streets. You were good friends and each other's first kiss under the playground slides. However, him being in the year above you had puberty hit him first. Your naive self didn’t understand his sudden infatuation with you, but you knew you didn’t like it. You made him well aware of it, but being a half-Italian mama’s boy, he didn’t understand the concept of ‘no’. The friendship quickly dissipated and as time went on he began his flirtatious attempts. Even now they only subsided when he was in his intervals of dating girls until you publicly slapped him across the face when he tried to kiss you.

“Oh come on! Just give him a chance, it’ll be fun!” She attempted to persuade with her enchanting smile. "No, not going to fall for that," you thought.

“Over my dead body. He’s gross!”

“And handsome.”

“And shallow.”

“And charming.”

“And stupid. He isn’t smart enough to understand that 'no' doesn’t mean 'convince me.' That little boy has no respect for me! He only left me alone when Paolo and Delfie told him off!" The argufying memory made you angry, making your hair aureole with combustion. This was something you refused to budge on. He was supposed to be your friend. 

“That was forever ago, Alessa!" Fina annoyingly dismissed.

“Two months is not forever ago.” You stubbornly defended, going back to the expresso.

“He apologized.”

“A pathetic excuse for one.”

“People change.”

“Not that quickly.”

“Leave Alessa alone, Fina. Just because she’s boring doesn’t mean it’s wrong for her to be so.” Your jaw dropped as Zio Roberto patted your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. He brought the frittata to the island and they all hungrily dove for the first slice as you stood in shock.

"Alright. Just because I'm not a serial dater, participate in every sport known to mankind, or attempt to blow up a lab every now and then does not make me boring!" You passionately embarked on a tirade.

They were silent for a beat while being occupied by their food. 

"It kind of does, baby." Franca chuckled, pityingly. The table burst into comical laughter.

You sighed annoyed steam. "It doesn't even matter. I'm rich and have famous parents." You looked to the ground and their laughter reverberated throughout the room.

"I'm good at kicking rocks. I'm not boring now, huh?" You grumbled pettily. Small sandstone rocks magically extracted from the stone floor and you kicked them with your heel.

With a sharp gasp from you, they went higher than intended and shattered one of the stained glass windows. 

"Alessandra! What the hell are you doing?" Your mother abruptly scolded as she walked into the kitchen. She was dressed in a lavish, white collar dress and her suitcase for the airport levitated behind her upset statue.

"Sulking and kicking rocks." You deadpanned with honesty. Your cousins meagerly chuckled to themselves.

A tension built in between the silence both of you conjured with your matching sights. And as usual, the air became uncomfortable. No one was sure if they should interfere, unsure if this would conclude in an Elemental brawl or in tears.

She visibly sighed impatiently. As she routinely did, she narrowed her sharp eyes distastefully and dismissed you with a perfunctory shake of her head. She went to go make her expresso, walking past you without acknowledgment. Like giving her own child the time of day was a burden.

Your lips fell into a line simmering from buried anger, watching her and her complete disinterest. You switched away from her, marching to the broken window, refusing to let her see your building tears.

“It is not even the 8th hour of the day and there are windows already breaking.” She complained. 

Your hands grew hot, with imminent untamed rage.

“Window, Ramona." Roberto corrected. "One that is being fixed just as quickly.”

She looked at the man unamused and spoke pettily, “Good morning, Roberto.” 

The tension became thicker. Your Zia Franca took the position to poke at her older triplet.

"Mia Sorella, I see the little devil on your shoulder is enjoying your attention today." Franca teased mischievously.

You drowned out your mother's retort and the rest of the conversation. Teary frustration was rimming in your eyes.

Trembling with emotion, you guided the broken colorful glass with assistance from the air. They whimsically levitated, reflecting off the morning light. The mesh of oxides and the melted concoction of sand, soda ash, and limestone mended back together in the frame.

You found always found the power easier to channel when emotional. It calmed you and soothed watching the shattered colors becoming whole once more. 

“That’s Valentino.” Fina whispered in disbelief. “The streamline, cream trench from the 1970 collection! How, Zia?” Fina’s emerald eyes lit up with rave.

“Signore Garavani sent it from the archives yesterday morning.”

“I'd die for it. Mama, can I go to one of your events so I can get a dress too?” Fina began, and so did Franca. As they debated, your mother caught your attention.

“Alessandra, he sent you an outfit as well. The dress is on your bed, you better not forget it.”

You hummed shortly. “It’s already packed.”

"Everything else should be too, except for this rudimentary attitude of yours. I do not have the patience for you today. You’ve known about this trip for a week, so if something is forgotten that's on you." She stated firmly, absent-mindedly sending her bags towards the door.

"Clothes, hygiene, homework, and a notebook. Is that good enough for you?!" You snapped, impulsively. The windows behind you reflected a fiery orange. Burning flames embodied your sweaty curls, trailing down your arms and frame.

The Classic's face became stone, sharp Elemental eyes infuriated. Her nostrils flared with vex, flames gliding down her own Valentino trench. Fina gasped loudly.

The enmity's glare down ignited strain so deep between you both the air thinned. The ground beneath your feet shivered, and her fine nose twitched. Evergrowing pressure rigidfied your body. The wood of the island between you two splintered, the windows and dining wear cracked like ice.

"And a snack." Roberto intervened in front of you to stop an all-out brawl from occurring. His square face immediately sprung with pain, neck clentching, pain receptors inflaming. You both released and he pantingly handed you take a bagged sandwich.

Your anger still resided, huffing through your lungs, numbing any thoughts. Barely over his shoulder, you saw your mother leave the room with Franca following.

He moved out of your fixed sight and the fire sizzled out. You weren't sure if you were going to cry or scream, but the pain was bound to release. You looked down to see the sandwich and its bag effaced. The small puff of smoke echoing, reaching your tear ducts.

Tears immediatley overcame you. "I'm sorry." You chokingly muttered. You turned to see Roberto was already halfway through making another sandwich.

"No, Zio. It's fine." You guiltily resisted, but his owl-like face was still sanguine. 

“I don’t want you to starve to death. It isn’t a good look.” He crooned.

“Vogue’s editors may disagree.” You tried to joke through your tears. He sighed with a pathetic chuckle.  He stopped what he was doing and opened his arms. You rushed forward and he encased you with an enormous hug. One of his infamous hugs. His extra weight always made it soft and comforting as if you had been wrapped in a fleece blanket. He was warm and sponged up all the frustration you felt. 

Once you gathered yourself together, you muttered "There's only one sandwich in the world that beats yours, Zio. Signore Delmar's in Queens. I’m sorry to tell you.” The attempted joke cracked through your voice.

“As long as it’s good enough for our family, there is no competition to me.” He comforted, seeing through your humor guard. You slightly nodded with a sniffle. 

"Ignore it, sweetheart." He whispered and brushed the back of your head.

"I know." 

It was moments like these that perpetuated the longing you had for your father. Tears already began to spill over onto Roberto’s shirt at the thought. It had been years, but the pain from seeing him so still and lifeless forever tainted your mind. Nothing was the same after he died. Sure, things got better with time, but nothing ever replaced the force he was. You knew that. The world knew that. Your mother knew that of all people. Sebastian Vitale, the loving husband. Sebastian De la Vega, the man behind it all. Papa, the father you knew and loved.

It was like her heart, warmth, and the bond you two had, had gone with him. Your family was there through it all and Roberto bared the brunt of it. The cries, the laughs, and the misguided rage. Everything. You weren't sure if was simply because you were his niece or his late best friend's daughter or the fact he believed he was indebted to your father who opened the doors to get him to where he is today. But you knew he missed him as much as you and loved you just as much as his twins. Times could be hard, good, then hard again; it all came in waves. But you could never say you didn’t have your family to help you through the terrain. 

He squeezed you one last time and pulled back with his hands on your shoulders. He looked at you with that sense of nostalgia he often had. You knew he was seeing the features of your father. He took your face in his callused hands. 

"Go on, freshen up, and be on your way. We'll all be here for you to tell us about your dull trip to the UN." He smiled, warmly. 

________________________________________

Fifteen-year-old Prince T’Challa, son of King T'Chaka sat withdrawn upon a Wakandan aircraft. His arms crossed and gaze firmly stuck upon the early morning’s hot-shaded clouds, his repressed resentment was bound to reach the surface. He was far beyond furious with indignation toward his cool-faced, indifferent uncle. King S’Yan. 

The striking shades from confident yellow to blistering red reminded him of his home. The place his uncle had personally confined him from 9 months out of the year. The man who pretentiously watched him from the seat ahead. 

King S’Yan, the man was equally as regal but less of a wise force compared to his late brother. S’Yan surmounted to the throne at 25 in the wake of T'Chaka's murder at the hands of Klaue. He was the youngest of three brothers; an enigmatic recluse with no foresight to arise to the throne. But with T’Chaka dead, N’Jobu exonerated for treason and the eight-year-old heir too young to lead a nation, S’Yan was put into a compromising position. He was not only forced into a self-transformation to become the king Wakanda needed or carry the sudden responsibility of a nation on his shoulders. But by law, his orphaned nephew became his ward. 

S'Yan observed his nephew across from him with a watchful eye. He thought of how much he had grown since that cruel night seven years ago. From a broken boy to an independent young man. A certified genius. An arrogant and ungrateful one in his eyes.

“You attend the most elite school in the nation yet you still find substance to dull over.” The King pondered aloud. "I'm beginning to wonder if you find pleasure in being miserable." 

The prince’s irritation arose, finally expressing itself across his young aristocratic face. The one just like his father's. His wide eyes, his mother's eyes, became righteous daggers of resentment all directed at his guardian. Or lack thereof. 

“It is valid for me to dull over my time being wasted. Everything this school teaches I’m already aware of. In addition, the bland food and professors know half of what ours teach.” He coldly refuted. The King remained nonchalant toward the boy's attitude. 

“It has already been decided. You’ve been given this opportunity to have the adolescent experience and greet those your age around the outside world. Burning olive branches and scouting for flaws is what truly wastes your time. And that is your doing, not mine." 

"The time I've been home has summed to a year. A single year out of these past four. With all due respect, understand I don’t visualize the logic of isolating me from the nation I will be leading. I will never be appreciative for the institutions that have me stripped from my home."

The Prince, barely containing his seeth, viewed his silent uncle who scavenged for the right words to respond. But nothing. A response of nothing. The King, now in place the prince was, watched the early morning sunrise to avoid the postponed conversation. 

“We are ten minutes out, my King.” A Dora announced.

"Thank you, Uuka." The monarch thanked casually with neglect of the unfinished conversation. 

The Prince was seething with a gasket about to burst. He shot up and stormed to the bathroom before he could make a scene. He shut the door tight and so did his eyes. 

"Stop it!" he ignorantly thought, rubbing away the wetness leaking from his tear ducts. He washed his face and chugged a glass of water to find any way to stop a sob from coming to fruition. It eventually settled after a series of trembling breaths. 

He looked at his reflection and sniffled, preparing to bring himself together. His emotions bottled once again, his suit was twiddled to perfection, and he rubbed away his bloodshot eyes. He stared at the frown unconcealed on his lips and forced it into a line. 

By the time he slid the door open, the aircraft was already set to translucent, landing upon a rooftop. He went next to the King, ready to descend off the ship. 

“All I ask is for you to attempt to find an element to enjoy and not be so emotional for once in your life.” The monarch muttered and walked off the deck. 

The Prince stood back for a beat, being the very thing the King just told him not to be. He sucked in a harsh, repressing breath, making his way down the deck. 

________________________________________

The morning of, you woke up early due to nerves. Anxiousness coursed through you yet buried beneath it was a layer of excitement. For years you had seen your mother, Zia’s, and Zio at these conferences on television. They were always respectable and graceful yet brutally ruthless when it came to challenging the corrupt. Which, many of the powerful were. Over the years you overheard their closed-door conversations and their frequent ‘business trips’ for their clandestine work. Now, after months of convincing your harsh mother, it was your turn to go. 

You put on a petite dress that's tone was similar to a pale daffodil. Giovane, innocente and Italiana were the adjectives swirled across the small note card shipped with the dress. Paired with a simple gloss, rosy blush, and curtains of curls pulled back with a silver clip, you smirked knowing how jealous Serafina would be.

The bathroom door opened and you turned to see your mother walk out of it, stunning and ready. She perfunctorily glanced toward you.

There were few words spoken between you and your mother that morning. She did her own thing and you did yours, some of the tension still lingering. It was silent mostly. You didn’t like it. You had never liked silence. It left you alone with your thoughts.

You watched her from afar as she took out and skimmed over a file that she used her back to shield you from seeing. In an effort to stir up a conversation, you went over to her. 

“Will there be any objectives today? Conversations to eavesdrop? An official watch out for?” You peeped over her shoulder to view the file in her hands. Only a few words in, she snapped it shut. 

“Nothing of which involves your attention.” She dismissed and dissolved the file to a crisp between her fingertips. Light trails of smoke shadowed her and she walked across the room to lock up her belongings. She slid her finger along the inner walls of the briefcase, spawning gunpowder. Atop it all, she drizzled webs of a high electric charge, ready to set off if an unwelcomed person were to open the belongings. Clever.

“Today, all I ask is for you to take in the moment and stay out of trouble. There will be much power and knowledge in that room, it may bring some use to take a note or two.”

“So, spy?" You hopefully suggested. It wasn’t something she would ever ask you to do, nor did she know that was the reason behind your interest for attending. 

“Alessandra.” She impatiently warned.

“Fine.” You surrendered, harshly.

____________

You arrived at the assembly an hour later. You were in a massive room with 17 rows and 6 columns of curved desks for the 185 nations in eventual attendance. The large space buzzed with ambassadors, advisors, and royalty all greeting one another with their shallow diplomatic fronts. 

It was overwhelming. Your senses felt like they were on fire. The intent you had to spy was abandoned by the toll of myriads of physiological and chemical chaos. It trembled the internal sphere containing the Elemental force. 

You wonder how your mother did it. She greeted powerful officials with ease as you stood beside her, struggling to say anything other than a few verses. You were sure she was happy about it. 

Many were pleased to see her, some even going out of their way to meet her. The Ramona Vitale. Italy’s newly appointed permanent UN ambassador, the fearless human rights violation investigator, and the widow of the late revered Sebastian De la Vega.  

Now, the mousey ambassador of Japan stood before her, subtly brownnosing. 

“I admire your strength, Ramona. This is a tense time within your nation yet you still find the time to attend the assembly and raise such a lovely daughter. The betrayal of the Prime Minister was so unexpected.” He referenced your nation’s Prime Minister taken out of power for his ties with the Mafia. You didn’t know how, and no one knew who leaked the evidence, but she, Luca, and Franca were the ones to expose it. 

“Not particularly when considering the influence power, money, and greed has over the human psyche. Though you are right, it is undoubtedly a tense time but I believe this has been a wake-up call for many. This is a time to realize that greed and seediness will always find their way to the light.” She intensely looked directly into the ambassador’s eyes. 

The small man’s blood rushed to his limbs. You sensed the sudden release of cortisol and adrenaline. Fear. What is this man hiding? 

“Certainly. However, we must not undermine the importance of allyship during these difficult times. I hope our nations will continue our solidified bond.” He added, his voice unwavered.

She only hummed with a well-hidden smirk on her cordial face. She nodded her head disingenuously. His breathing picked up in pace and you couldn’t help but feel a spike of amusement at the mouse being caught in the trap. 

“I’m sure we will be seeing more of each other, Ambassador. As well as you, Ms. Vitale. Like mother, like daughter.” He said his farewell with a subtle warning of eye contact and moved on. As he walked away, he whispered to one of his advisors. 

“Mama was that…” You whispered with excitement.

“Not now.” She smirked with satisfaction.

As another came to greet, you whimpered at an all-consuming shudder down your spine. Every sight, every touch, and every taste amplified chucking you into a shivering state. Your ears were ringing. It felt like holy water dribbled down your skin, like your flesh was vibrating to let the heaven within release and it all abruptly stopped with the rapid touch of a hand. Suddenly everything was calm again, but with your mother’s hand on your back and the United States ambassador giving a worried look.

“Are you alright there, Ms…”

“Ms. Vitale.” You completed her sentence. “I apologize for my rudeness, but if you excuse me for a few moments.” You rushed out of the room. You locked yourself into the bathroom and slammed your back against the stall door. You were panting. What the hell was that feeling? You never sensed anything like it before. It was like you were someone else. Or something else. 

You took a breath and stiffly restrained the power once more. The second you walked back into the buzzing room, your breath caught in your lungs. Breathe. Just breathe. With careful strides and steady breaths, you walked back to where you were before. 

Your mother gave you a curious look as if she was asking if you could handle yourself. She almost looked concerned. It was strange. You took a long breath and nodded.

But still, your curiosity was unsatisfied, What the hell was that? Was it someone or something? You could see even your own mother now tense and stiff. Curiosity is what killed that cat, but you couldn’t resist your dying want to know what was causing it. It was calling you. It was primitive, archaic, and begging for your attention. Your eyes shut and the room vibrated with senses. The motion of your head ignored any logical reasoning you had left and settled to the right of the room. Opening your eyes, the light adjusted, to see the King of Wakanda. 

Vibranium. The archaic Elemental metal. It made so much sense, but wasn't most of it stolen? His entire body had to be encased with it. The King of the 3rd world nation stood tall and regally with two bald-headed women near him. They were intimidating with their tight black dresses, sharp features, and silver vibranium rings around their necks. 

But your focus didn't sustain on them for long, but rather on the boy who stood beside the monarch. He was around your age and roughly around your height. His hair was groomed, and his suit was tailored without a flaw. A vibrant scarf hung across his chest and it was colored tanzanite and diopside, the jewels for intuition and catharsis. 

It reminded you of a painting. He appeared as though he had it all, but his noble features were bathed in quiet melancholy. He looked malnourished of liveliness, like a pressure was weighing him down. Yet, his youth could still be seen through his bored burnt umber eyes. They glanced at the clock at least every 30 seconds, resulting in the repetitive disappointing twitch between his eyebrows. It made you smile. Then, his wide-set eyes twitched toward you. He tensed, an unreadable expression coming across his aristocratic face.

An embarrassed blush came across yours. You were panicing and didn't know why. His eyes didn't move, watching you, judging you. A sharp breath scraped down your throat, passing your palpatating heart. You swiftly looked away. Your eyes scrunched with embarrassment, questioning if throwing yourself out the window was a bad idea. Even through your shut eyes, you couldn't shake the image of the puzzled, noble boy.

[my-darling-luna]

Your Majesty Chapter 2

Please note that NONE of the gifs that I use are supposed to show the reader’s skin color or weight!!! It’s so hard to find gifs on here because I’m new to Tumblr and idk how things work. I’m so sorry, I’m trying to learn lol.

Your Majesty Masterlist

Summary- It has been more than a decade since the Kingdom of Ultron lost their princess. (Y/n) was just a 17 year old that didn’t know much about her past. Realizations happen and lives are crossed. How will (Y/n) handle the new pressure?

Stucky x reader

---

     (Y/n) paced back and forth in the main entrance of the palace, her shoes making a soft thud on the marble floor. Tony and Pepper stood off to the side, watching as (Y/n) would pause, mumble something to herself, then go on to pace again. They had previously each tried to console the girl which had only ended with a firm glare and a quick push to gain space between the two. Rhodey left an hour ago to find (Y/n)’s parents and bring them over to the palace like she insisted and (Y/n) was becoming more and more restless by the minute. 

     A neigh and footsteps on the stairs caught the three royal’s attention, all of them pausing and looking over as the door opened. Her mother ran forward and tried to cup her daughter’s face, her smile faltering as (Y/n) stepped back from the hands. 

      “Did you know?” Her eyes went from her mother’s to her father’s, guilt shining in both of their eyes. Tears fell from (Y/n)’s eyes at the thought of being lied to. 

       “Not until you were ten.” (Y/n) sobbed quietly, looking away from the couple that raised her as theirs. Her mother rushed forward, pulling (Y/n)’s face in her grasp without letting go. “We didn’t know when you were brought to us.” 

       “Brought to you? I was yours! Your child.” Her father’s face crumbled, tears quietly fell down his cheeks. 

       Father shook his head. “You were left on our doorstep when you were a baby with nothing but a blanket and a card with your name on it. No note and no one else to claim you, so we took you in.” (Y/n) pulled out of her mother’s hands before grasping at her arms. Her chest raised and fell at a rapid pace as she gulped for breaths through her tears. 

       “You lied to me.” She hiccupped and her parents nodded with a grimace. Tony watched as his daughter began to fall, so he rushed forward and gathered her tightly in his hold. He rubbed her back softly. 

       “Why don’t we go upstairs to you can sleep a little?” (Y/n) nodded, her eyes slowly falling shut with the stress of the day on her shoulders. Tony led her up the stairs, pausing shortly to whisper something to a guard to the entrance of the stairs. The guard nodded and Tony continued walking, a arm around his daughter’s waist to hold her up. “This room is yours.” Opening the door, Tony walked her in and set her on the bed. “Go to bed, okay? I’ll see you in the morning where we can talk about everything.” He left as soon as (Y/n) nodded, but not before he pressed a quick kiss on her forehead. 

***

     It was mid morning when (Y/n) woke up. A quiet knock shocking her out of her dream. 

     “Miss?” The door opened and a woman with blonde hair stepped through the doorway. “I’m here to dress you.” (Y/n) nodded before she got up. The woman led her over to the mirror and began to undo the lace of the dress that she fell asleep in last night. A new dress was put on her, a simple gold and silver design covered the entirety of the outer layer.  

      “Thank you...” (Y/n) smiled once the maid was done with her dress and makeup. 

       “Lillian and it’s no issue, miss.” 

       “Lillian and it is to me.” Lillian flushed, but calmly explained how the guard outside of her room would help her to the dining room. (Y/n) nodded and walked outside to meet the man who brought her to see her family. Tony and Pepper sat at the table along with a little girl in a high chair. The three looked up to see (Y/n) walking in. She moved slowly and nervously before being ushered into a chair and pushed in by a guard. 

      “Good morning, (Y/n).” Pepper smiled kindly and (Y/n) smiled back, nervousness practically oozing out of her. 

      “Good morning.” (Y/n) looked over to Tony, catching his gaze.

“I’ve been thinking about how to go about explaining everything to you all night.” Tony began after setting down his silverware. “I have imagined finding you ever since you were taken away from me all those years ago.” He brushed a tear away as quickly as it fell, hoping that no one saw the small bit of water. “You were taken on the day of your first birthday. Your mother Leia had left you with a maid to help set up for the party that we were going to have. The maid was attacked five minutes after you were handed to her and she was fine, but you weren’t. We looked for you everywhere, but you were gone.” (Y/n) rested her hand on Tony’s as her heart dropped at the fear he must’ve felt in those moments. “The man who attacked you was found. His name was Grant Ward, a soldier in the Kingdom of Hydra. He refused to give up your location and we couldn’t find you until now.” Tony pulled (Y/n)’s hand up to his lips, kissing the back of her hand before encasing her own in his.

“What happened to my mother?” (Y/n) asked quietly, her eyes trained on her father. Her real father.

“She passed away ten years ago from pneumonia. She refused to get help until it was too late. Too stubborn. I married Pepper five years ago and this,” he motioned towards the little girl who was eating pancakes in Pepper’s lap, “is your half sister Morgan. She’s three.”

“And a haf!” Morgan squealed, pausing from her pancakes to look somewhat angrily at her father although she didn’t look very threatening after she mispronounced ‘half’.

“And a half.” He chuckled sadly before turning to his eldest. “I’m so sorry (Y/n).” She shook her head, tears trailing down her cheeks.

“It wasn’t you.” (Y/n) said simply and Tony sniffed. “Do you except me?” Pepper and Tony looked up in surprise at (Y/n).

“What do you mean by except?” Pepper asked, her eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Well I’m not taught and I lived in a cottage for almost all of my life and I’m not what a princess should look like.” (Y/n) ranted, the fear of losing her real family seemed too close. She knew that her family back in that little cottage was loving and safe, but how was she supposed to go back knowing that they knew and lied to her for years? She couldn’t. She would have to beg and she knew that.

“Dear,” Pepper reached across the table to grab her step-daughter’s hand, “I know that I might not be your real mother and I will never ask to be that, but we aren’t letting you go back to that cottage unless you want to. We want you here with us and for the not being taught part, we’ve already got a hold of the best teacher in the kingdom for you if you want it.” Tony nodded at Pepper’s statement.

“Of course I want to stay here and I want to learn.” The two adults sighed and relaxed in their chairs slightly, their posture still rigid and tight.

“Well I think this calls for a welcome back party.” Tony smiled at his daughter, his eyes brightening at the thought of a way to celebrate the appearance of his long lost daughter. Pepper laughed, wrinkles appearing at her eyes, showing the wear and tear of life with (Y/n)’s father. This was exactly where she wanted to be.

***

“I would like to speak with my family down at the cottage.” Tony stopped scratching on the piece of paper laying in front of him. His heart dropped slightly, but relaxed again at the sight of his daughter’s nervous face.

“That can be arranged, is there any reason?” She knew what he was doing. (Y/n) had been living at the castle for only a week and she was quick to notice how Tony would ask questions in what seemed like a nonchalant way to get answers out of her. Almost like he didn’t care, but he so clearly did.

“I want to talk to them about how they knew.” Tony nodded before looking down at the paper he was supposed to sign.

“Okay. Tell Vision to go with you. Be back before dark, okay?” (Y/n) nodded before leaving.

It took a little less than half an hour to arrive at the small cottage sitting on the outskirts of Hydra. The house looked dark and empty, but to be honest, it never looked like it was fit enough to be lived in. Vision held his hand out to stop (Y/n) from moving out of the carriage.

“Wait here, there’s something wrong here.” Vision’s pessimism scared (Y/n). Everything looked completely normal to her, but she did let the soldier go first while she waited. It took two minutes for Vision to run back to the place were the carriage stood. Slapping the side of the white iron outside.

“Vision what is going on?” (Y/n) yelled, confusion taking over at the fast movement. He forced her off of the seat and down to the floor.

“There has been a murder and your caretakers were the victims. ‘You will be next’ was written on the wall. You are no longer safe. Hydra has just started a war.”

--

Taglist- @austynparksandpizza @aikeia @simplyfandomish @baby-noodles​ @lili-ann-love​ @rebloggingeverything​

[ggukkiedae]

❝𝕣𝕦𝕟 𝕓𝕥𝕤 𝕖𝕡. 𝟠𝟛-𝟠𝟝❞

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜:

⇢ when you put bangtan in a resort that’s basically a water park

𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜:

⇢ conversations written in italics are spoken in english. requests and feedback are highly appreciated!

Episode 83

yoonmi was practically drowning in the big shirt over her rashguard, so you can see her tying it at her waist while the others introduce the episode

“today’s run bts’s theme is summer outing”

“oh god, i’m not good at sports”

jungkook and her met eyes and “i got you, mimi” “hopefully we’re on the same team”

she got grouped with namjoon, hoseok, and seokjin

while the other team celebrated, she laughed while hoseok and seokjin lifted her up with their arms forming a makeshift throne

“oppas, please, i’m not good with sports”

she cheered when hoseok was called out to do the warm up exercises

she was giggling the whole warm up “why are we doing dance basics?”

she stretched out on the side, pulling her legs up into a scorpion position one at a time before sitting by the side of the pool. seokjin lifted her from under her armpits and placed her in the pool where the water reached her chest, almost to her collar bones

she exchanged looks with her teammates

“we’re at a huge disadvantage” “you’re telling me? they have ggukoo oppa, and he’s a powerhouse! i’m a noodle”

the game starts, and it shows the chaotic mess of the members. then there’s a one shot of her lightly splashing around in the water with squeaky noises layered on it

taehyung laughs and calls a time out around half way into the game “hold on, we’re at second set, and yoonmi’s just been playing in the back the whole time” “but, oppa, i’m literally armpit deep in the water!”

everyone laughs and calls her over to stand near their net with the caption “makdungie with no competitive bone” around her

surprisingly, she was able to hit the ball to the back where yoongi couldn’t reach

buuut they lost the second round

“i told you guys i can’t play”

for the third set, she was in front once again and the ball was just constantly sailing over her head. eventually she pouts

“i’m short, this isn’t fair”

to which hoseok just laughs and pats her head

she cheers when jungkook hits the ball softer for her to hit

but then he hits it back way too hard and it goes far behind them

“oppa,” she gasped at a laughing jungkook “are you mad?”

she hit the last ball, and they won the third set. the other three cheered and pulled her into a group hug

there’s a clip of yoonmi struggling to get out of the pool so jungkook lifts her out

next cut she’s in protective gear looking nervously at the boat

“are we gonna fly off? i can’t really swim” “that’s why you have a life vest, princess”

her eyes widened when she saw how fast and rocky the little boat was moving

“oppas! is it hard to stay on?”

all she could hear was screaming. she looked at seokjin “i’m gonna die” “no you’re not” “yes i am”

then it was their turn to get on. jungkook lightly tapped the side of her helmet “you’ll be fine. just hold tight”

her eyes and mouth are squeezed shut while they’re going, and she screams when the boat jumps

“125x7” “oppas, it’s 875, let’s do this fast so we can get off fast”

namjoon laughed “terror made you smarter makdungie”

then the boat moves once again

they arrive on land and she just lies down on the wooden floor

“oh my god, i’m never doing that again”

jimin shook his head fondly and pulled her to the others where they had chicken

she was zoned out and the caption on her one-shot said “the most stressed she’s been in her 19 years of life”

Episode 84

she was a lot more lively in the next game

“i like slides, this will be fun”

they chose her to go last and she grinned

she sat on where they were standing and clapped her hands when she saw the other members going down

by the time it was her and jungkook’s turn, the two maknaes cheerfully went up the slide

“they’re the only one’s not scared” namjoon noted

seokjin gave a confused look “which is surprising for yoonmi, but she enjoys slides too much”

she and jungkook did little wiggly dances when the pd asked if they were ready making the other members laugh

they went down, and she made sure to curl herself into a ball the moment she was off the slide

she stayed in the air considerably long before unfolding her body

once they hit the water, she floated up and wiped her face while laughing. jungkook pulled her with him to the side where she wasn’t even fazed at the news of losing

“it was fun!”

when taehyung went and forgot to say the s in bts, she fell to the ground in laughter

for the bob jump, they asked her if she would be able to do it to which she said no and curled up next to yoongi who also wasn’t doing it

“have fun, oppas”

she watched in awe while jungkook went and audibly gasped when she saw how high he went

“yup, i could not have managed that”

yoongi pulled her back to a chair where he kept her on his lap, wrapping them both in a towel to keep them warm while they watched the others

she sneezed a few times before yoongi looked at the on site medic

then they were on the platform by the obstacle course

“as you can see, we’re only seven now, but only six of us will be participating since hobi is feeling seasick, and yoonmi developed a slight fever, so we aren’t letting her play in case it gets worse”

“i want to go on the obstacle course, though,” yet she was silenced by six pairs of eyes silently telling her no to which she sighed

she sat on the blue platform to watch, but the staff told her to go wash up and get dressed in something warm. she pouted but hugged the six boys before running off

Episode 85

she appeared a little worse for wear with her hood up over her head.

jimin stood up and opened his arms

“aigoo, aegi, come here”

she sulked towards him and settled in a hug

“you’re burning up,” he felt her forehead, “thankfully you didn’t get too sick in the middle of a game. go sit beside kookie”

she sat on the table, head in her arms, while the others got food.

jungkook eventually returned not just with food, but also with a bottle of water and some medicine for yoonmi

taehyung was constantly feeding her or putting food on her plate

she was practically half asleep while eating, so she barely followed along with what was happening

“no,” seokjin laughed, “it’s a little funny because even hobi has more energy than yoonmi right now, and hobi just woke up”

she watched them do the bottle cap challenge with a tired smile

eventually taehyung pulled her over into a back hug and waddled them both towards the other chairs

then they were seated for the manito. she was between jimin and jungkook, arms tucked into the torso portion of her hoodie while jungkook tied her sleeves together

the pds asked her if she was okay “i drank my medicine! i’m okay!”

she saw yoongi’s gift and burst into a fit of giggles. when she saw seokjin’s gift, she just laughed. she burst into laughter when she saw taehyung’s gift and fell off her chair, so jimin had to help her up by untying her sleeves, but he fell, too which lead to more laughter

then namjoon started to approach taehyung with his gift

she jumped in surprise when he handed a small box to her

“oh, me? is this bts goods again?”

she opened the box and pulled out a leather bound notebook and a case of colorful pens. the leather notebook had “M.Y.” engraved in gold on the corner

“woah”

namjoon smiled when he sat back down “i know you’re looking into bullet journalling, so i thought maybe i could help you get started”

she smiled and skipped over to him before kissing his cheek “thank you oppa”

then it was her turn to give a gift. she twirled a little before gently attacking yoongi in a hug and placing a small paper bag in his arms. yoongi let her sit on his lap while he opened it

“woah, princess, and this fit in the price range?” “yupp!”

inside was a necklace with a shield shaped charm that had a heart shaped hole in it. she helped yoongi put it on then pulled her own necklace from under her hoodie and connected them

“yours is the shield because you always protect me and the oppas. you can even hang it on your bed or clip it to your bags, i don’t mind”

the other members were cooing at her while yoongi patted her cheek and pressed a kiss to the top of her head

“wait,” seokjin began, “so three of us got bangtan goods while yoonmi and yoongi don’t? wahhh”

this made everyone laugh

yoonmi went back to her seat and excitedly opened the notebook namjoon gave her, pleased to see the pages were dotted

they all finished giving each other presents, and she was just smiling despite how tired and lightheaded she felt

“it’s actually pretty nice we got to get each other presents” “you got journalling stuff, mimi. i got v fans” “that’s taetae oppa watching over you and keeping you cool!”

she leaned against yoongi for their ending shot. after calling out the slogan and the camera panning away, you can hear her voice

“i’m gonna start on my bullet journal as soon as i’m better and i’ve printed my pictures and stickers!”

[kanataka-san]

Jasper Hale X Male Reader

Alice decided to make a suprise for her human friend and celebrate it in their house with close ones.

It was Bellas birthday, everybody has a great time joking, dancing or just talking. (Y/N) made her a birthday cupcakes deciding they wont be able eat a whole cake with just the two of them, taller girl agreed at this idea.

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(H/C) haired boy sat on his lovers lap plaing with that blonde locks, gold eyes looked into this beautifull (E/C) and perfect smile that he retured getting closer to kiss smallers boy forehead. "Uh-uh don't move you'll destroy it." (Y/N) pouted holding a braid he made so it wont fall apart. Jasper listened and sat still, smiling- It was perfect.

That was untill brown haired girl hissed... Alice turned to her and saw blood cut on her finger, Edward fastly came to Bella as Rosalie take (Y/N) away from Jasper that was now held back by Emmett and Caslisle. Esme told her 'childern' to take the two to their homes, that way they will be save.

(Y/N) got a plaster in his phone case and gave it to his friend that thanked him. The ride was silent nobody talked but Edward could tell (Y/N) is worried about his lover also by his running thoughts- it made the vampire smile 'cause no metter the sytuation smaller boy was always worried first about Jasper than himself- he know he will get scoled if he said it out loud with his family around.

"Hey, cheer up he will be fine." Edward ruffled (Y/N)s hair after exiting the car and taking him right in front of the door of his house. "I hope so, but you know I'll be woried still, even if you said that. Drive carefully." "Don’t worry we will." The two said goodbyes and (Y/N) went inside. It was dark, he was alone. His parents today morning flew away for their work.

Turning on the lights he decided to make himself something to eat feeling hungry and the only thing that could be made fast was noodles.

It wasn't the best but it was something. Tomorrow he will need to actually cook after school. Right now he just needed to take a warm shower and sleep but first- text Jasper how he feels.

--------------------------------------------------

(Y/N) checked his phone one more time but he haven't got a reply. 'he probably still don't feel good. I'll check in the morning.'

--------------------------------------------------

It was weird... By now (Y/N) was sure to get some kind of reply.. But there was nothing. It worried him..

Deciding to go to school earlier (H/C) haired boy packed his bag and dressed up in one of Jaspers dark blue hoodies, button up white shirt and light blue jeans- he was ready to go. Taking keys to his car from shelf he get out and close the door.

Snow started falling on this part of the forest, it was beautufull, songs was playing on the radio making (Y/N) relax.

When he finally was on the parking he exited his (F/C) car and went to school. He saw there was Bella standing with Edward. "Hey there. You're early." "I could say the same." Bella smiled a bit hugging her friend that returned it. Ok, I'm off just remember this is school so don't get to touchy!" (Y/N) joked as vampire boy shake his head smiling. "You don't need to worry about it."

The day went quite good but (Y/N) haven't seen Jasper or wnen he saw him blond haired boy dissapered in the crown of students. It worried him.

Couple of days later Alice aporached him and took his hand to take a little bit taller boy with her behind the school.

There he stood. (Y/N) looked at Alice that just smiled and go away leaving the two alone. (H/C) haired male wanted to hug his boyfriend but he got stopped.

"(Y/N), don't come closer. You need to forget about me about us." With that he was gone. Smaller boy stood there procesing what happend.

"You... Broke up with me... Why...?"

He asked noone in practicular.. Cold wind embranced him as walked back home.. Not carring about the car, it will be stupid idea driving when you can't even see what's in front of you by all the tears that fell out of his eyes.

It was getting much colder- did (Y/N) cared?- No.

He felt alone for the first time from a very long time, he sometimes felt alone when his parents flew away but he got used to it knowin they will always come back- this time he didn't know what will be.

Knowing Jasper is an empath (Y/N) decided to stay home for a couple of days, maby he will came and say he's sorry.. Or just come...  Be there..

But none of that happend. (Y/N) didn't know if he done something wrong... He wanted to know... The only thing that stopped him was that Jasper haven't come to school or responded to his texts.. Others didn't tell him anything only Bella that way he know he wasnt in school... It destroyed him from the inside..

Finally decided to go back to school (Y/N) started covering dark bangs under his eyes by his mothers make-up, he spent manny sleepless nights.

He hasn't eat regullary only in school so nobody will susspect anything, at home he only drink water- by that he got thiner so he wore bagy clothes, not like it was something out of ordinarry cause he loved big clothes.

In PE he always changed into bathrooms or said he doesn't feel good so he wouldnt practise.

By now he just left his phone at home not carring if someone call him, his parents never expected a response to their emails or texts.

His room still was clean and he did the homework. He always got good grades without studying so it was a plus, not wanting to sit at the borring books.

--------------------------------------------------

When (Y/N) haven't came to school for a whole two weeks again Bella began to worry but he just texted her he got sick.

She told this Edward at the table in the canteen when others appered and sat down.

Alice got a vision and Edward was fast to read it. "What happend?" Bella asked looking from her boyfriend to best friend.

"It's (Y/N), he's going at the cliff." All of them stood up and leave the school grounds. Jasper was the first one to run as fast as he could knowing where exacly (Y/N) is right now.

Jasper found him sitting at the edge. Calm energy emmiting from (Y/N)- he wasn't about to jump. He always came here when he wanted to think or just be alone with the nature.

"I know youre here."

"And I know you know I'm here."

"Why are you here..?"

(Y/N) wispered closing his eyes trying to stay calm and not to cry.

"I'm here because youre my everything.. And I know I lost you when I break up with you. I know you try to stay calm so you're feelings wouldnt affect me..." Sitting male take a deep breath.

"Please let me feel all the emotions you feelt for the past three months.." Sobs leaved (Y/N)s mouth as he let all the emotions go.

Jasper legs gave out as it hit him. He couldn't believe someone could feel so much and closed it inside for so long.

(Y/N) clamed down against his will.

"No.. P-please let it out, I want to feel what you felt for so long-"

"I wont.. I- I don't want you to feel it.. Please it hurts me seeing you in pain.."

"It hurts me to seeing how you can't let your emotions go without worring about me feeling it."

They were silent... Not knowing what to say.. Until (Y/N) stood up and run up to the vampire falling to his knees the two hugged eachother not carring about the dirt they were in.

"Please.. I know it will be hard for you.. To.... Forgive me.. "

"It will be..."

"Can we-I try to fix it.. Baby steps...?"

".. Baby steps..."

--------------------------------------------------

It was a hard way, Jasper did everything to make (Y/N) feel better. After he found out how thin his lover got he made sure to regulary gave him small portion of food Esme cooked everyday when she heard what happend. Every morning he went through (Y/N)s open window with fresh portion of vegetables.

There were times when Jasper spend the night wathing (H/C) haired boy sleep stroking his head when (Y/N) got a nightmare.

They know nothing will be the same but they loved eachother and will make it.

Words:1488

[leossmoonn]

chemistry part thirteen

part twelve | part fourteen | masterlist

zuko x fem!reader

avatar: the last airbender

includes - you, zuko, suki, katara, toph, sokka, and aang

special appearances by - iroh, azula, and appa

warnings - mild language , makeout scene

you put your phone in your purse, getting up to go to the bathroom. you washed your hands and looked at your makeup and outfit for the 100th time.

your makeup was pretty minimal. well, it looked minimal. you did a very natural look with winged eyeliner and a red lip. since it was cold and zuko had told you to dress warm, you had wrapped up in warm, but cute clothes.

you had put on solid black jeans, a black belt, a red turtleneck sweater, a red scarf, and a coat. you had paired the outfit with black, one-inch heeled boots and curled hair. you were wearing a gold necklace that katara had given you a long time ago, and the charm bracelet that zuko had given you yesterday.

you hoped he liked your outfit. you’d never been on a real date before that didn’t consist of friends being with you. you were nervous, to say the least.

a knock sounded at the door, making your heart race and palms sweat.

“time to shine,” you muttered to yourself as you walked to the door.

you swung the door open, smiling once you met zuko’s smiling face. you took a look over his own outfit.

he was wearing jeans, a dark-blue sweater, a black coat, and black boots. you noticed silver rings on every other finger on his hands, and a silver chain around his neck. they made him ten times more attractive. his hair was fluffy and looked soft, going down past his eyes, covering up most of his scar.

“you look beautiful,” were the first words he spoke to you.

a light blush arised on the tip of your ears and cheekbones. you put your head down, smiling shyly. “thank you. you look really handsome.”

zuko smiled brightly at you, thinking how cute you were when you got shy. “thank you. are you ready to go?” he asked, holding out his hand for you to take.

you looked up at him, a big smile sitting in your red lip. “yep,” you said and took his hand.

goosebumps ran up your arm at the skin contact. you felt all warm and tingly. a feeling you only felt when you were with him.

you closed the door, locking it and heading out to his car. you got in the passenger’s seat, sighing happily as you and zuko made eye contact once again. you couldn’t help but get lost in his ember eyes, they were so pretty.

“so, where are you going?” you asked.

“um, somewhere not warm,” zuko answered, starting the car.

“hm, gonna keep it a secret from me? this isn’t a good way to start a relationship,” you joked.

zuko chuckled, “i think you’ll like it.”

“me, too,” you smiled.

as he drove, you two talked about the rest of your plans for christmas break. you were planning on heading back up to see your parents for the rest of the break, and he was planning on having a new year’s party with his family. he had invited you, to which you had happily accepted.

“you sure it won’t interfere with your family plans?” zuko asked.

“nope. i usually come back here a day before new year’s eve because the girls and i also plan a party,” you reassured him.

“ah, i see. well, good. are you girls still planning a party?” zuko asked.

“hm, probably not. and if they do, they’ll just have to have to without me because i’ll be at a much cooler party,” you chuckled.

“yes, you will,” zuko smiled.

you hummed, your hand making its way to his subconsciously. his hand was on the gear shift, per usual. you set your hand on his, liking the warmth that he provided.

zuko smiled at your gesture, happy that you two have grown close and were comfortable enough with each other to do those types of things. he loved feeling your skin on his. whether it was with hand-holding, cuddling, or kissing - which you two hadn’t done yet, but he had thought about it many times.

he drove for another 10 minutes, finally arriving at the date place.

“you brought me to a dark parking lot?” you chuckled.

zuko sighed, “yeah, i know i look sketchy right now, but i promise you’re safe.”

you smiled, “i know, don’t worry. i feel most safe with you, anyways.”

those words made zuko’s heart flutter. every guy liked hearing that they made a girl feel safe, especially when it was a girl who the guy had been crushing on hard for almost 3 months, which was you for him.

“i’m glad,” zuko said and got out of the car. you followed in his suit, seeing him go to the trunk of his car. he pulled out a small picnic basket.

“a picnic in december?” you asked.

zuko shrugged sheepishly, “aang said this was a cute idea. plus, we aren’t staying here.”

“alright. well, lead the way,” you smiled.

he nodded and slid his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers. you walked close to him, puting your head on his shoulder. you were grateful he radiated heat, otherwise you would be freezing.

you two stopped in front of a bunch of trees. zuko turned to you.

“close your eyes for me, okay?” he asked.

you nodded shutting your eyes tight. zuko put his arms around you, your body stiffening from his touch, but almost immediately relaxing. zuko walked you forward slowly. you were nervous, but extremely excited. you couldn’t wait for what zuko had planned.

“alright, open your eyes,” zuko said softly.

you opened your eyes slowly, the cold air hitting them immediately. your jaw fell as you saw a beautiful scene in front of you.

zuko had taken you to a light show. it was in a part of the city where they would put up all types of christmas lights in the shape of a tree, abominable snowman, snow, stars, snowmen, children ice skating, etc. you remembered your parents would take you here when you were a little girl and drive around so you could see the lights. it was one of the most fondest memories you had of your childhood, and now, you were spending it with the greatest guy on earth.

“do you like it?” zuko asked.

you looked at him, smiling. “i love it. how did you know about this place?”

“aang told me you loved this place as a kid, and that you hadn’t been to it in a while. i thought it would be nice to take you here for our first date,” zuko said.

“i love it, thank you. this is such a cute date idea. you are perfect,” you said.

“thank you. let’s sit at the gazebo,” zuko said, pointing to the building across from you. you nodded excitedly, taking his hand in yours and running to it.

once you got to the gazebo, zuko set out the picnic blanket that he folded into the basket. he got the food he prepared, too. he had made noodles, egg tarts, jasmine tea, moon cakes, and roasted turtleduck.

“hm, smells so good. you made all this?” you asked, sitting down.

“yep,” zuko smiled proudly.

“wow, he’s romantic and cooks. what more can a girl want?” you teased

“i know,” zuko chuckled. “my mom and grandpa taught me how to cook.”

“that’s really cool. i can’t cook for shit. i swear, i always end up burning everything,” you laughed, cutting yourself a peice of the duck.

“i can teach you,” zuko suggested.

your mind immediately went to a cute, very romantic date where he would teach you two how to cook, then after when you got to desert, you two would go back into your bedroom.

“that sounds very fun,” you smiled.

“i think so, too,” zuko smiled, taking a sip of tea.

you two talked while eating. after you finished, zuko and you had decded to lay down and admire the lights.

you had cuddled into zuko’s side, his arm around you, holding you close. your head was on his chest, tucked under his chin. your legs were intertwined with his, too. you sighed contently, you couldn’t remember a time where you had felt this happy.

zuko looked down at you with a love-filled look. he pulled you to him impossibly closer. he couldn’t believe you were with him in this moment. after mai, he wasn’t sure he would really like or trust anyone else. but you made it easy. you were kind, funny, so sweet and smart. you didn’t try to act tough like mai, and you definitely were not afraid of showing your feelings. you also had good intentions. you were the perfect girl for him.

“thank you for taking me out tonight. i’ve had lots of fun,” you said, sitting up and looking into his eyes.

“me, too. i’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while,” zuko said.

“well, i’m glad it happened when it did,” you smiled.

“me, too,” zuko said.

you looked at his face, not being able to stop yourself from staring down at his lips. he noticed this and put his hand up to your cheek, running his thumb slowly along your skin. his rings felt cold, but good against your face. his eyes traveled down to your lips as well, going back up to your eyes for permission. you looked back up to his eyes, leaning forward.

you weren’t sure what was happening. well, you did, but your heart was racing a mile a minute. the way his thumb was rubbing against your skin had your stomach knot up. the fact that there was barely any space between you and him made your mind a little foggy, and made you figet with your thighs.

“i’ve never kissed anyone before,” you said breathlessly.

“just go with your instinct,” zuko said, his other hand finding your waist, squeezing reassuringly.

you nodded, leaning in more. before you knew it, you two were kissing. you two took it slow, savoring the feeling. his lips were soft and very good at kissing. the way they moved with your’s, the fact that his lips fit perfectly with your’s, put butterflies in your stomach. you couldn’t think of another perfect moment.

for someone who hadn’t kissed anyone before, zuko thought you were amazing. your lips moved with his expertly, making him imagine fireworks shooting off in his brain. his hand on your waist pulled you impossibly closer, wanting to feel you right against him. you took the hint and swung your leg around his waist, climbing on top of him without breaking the kiss. your hands wrapped themsleves in his hair, pulling slightly.

zuko ran his tongue on your bottom lip. you opened your mouth almost immediately, taking in a shallow breath of air. your tongues clashed, you quietly moaning in response. zuko’s grip on your waist got tighter as you two fought for dominance while kissing.

it wasn’t too long before you had to pull away for hair. once you two did, big smiles rested on your faces. zuko admired the way you looked in the dim light. you hair was slightly messy from laying down and running your fingers through it. your cheeks were flushed and lips wet and a little swollen from kissing him. your lipstick was also smudged slightly.

“that was um... amazing,” you panted.

zuko took a deep breath, his going up to your hands. he intertwined each of your fingers together.

“wanna do it again?” he asked.

you giggled and leaned down, “definitely.”

————

note - hope you guys read and enjoy this as new parts are added! if you wanna be on the taglist, message me and/or reply to this post :))

taglist - @sorrythatspussynal @theblueslytherin @charlenasaxen @akiris @the-paintedlady @thatarthistorynerd @freckled-and-daydreaming @fi-chanwrites

[improvidence318]

i said screw it so here it is

howdy howdy, this is the anon with the 20’s lingo sheet. i don’t have a tumblr (though i wish i do tbh) and realized that i don’t know how to work shit on tumblr, so i’m just sending in the sheet through a text post. i am highly aware of the amount of power i’m bestowing upon you and honestly couldn’t give a damn

A

ab-so-lute-ly: affirmative all wet: incorrect And how!: I strongly agree! ankle: to walk, i.e.. “Let’s ankle!” apple sauce: flattery, nonsense, i.e.. “Aw, applesauce!” Attaboy!: well done!; also, Attagirl!

B

baby: sweetheart. Also denotes something of high value or respect. baby grand: heavily built man baby vamp: an attractive or popular female, student. balled up: confused, messed up. baloney: Nonsense! Bank’s closed.: no kissing or making out ie. “Sorry, mac, bank’s closed.” bearcat: a hot-blooded or fiery girl beat it: scram, get lost. beat one’s gums: idle chatter bee’s knee’s: terrific; a fad expression. Dozens of “animal anatomy” variations existed: elephant’s eyebrows, gnat’s whistle, eel’s hips, etc. beef: a complaint or to complain. beeswax: business, i.e. “None of your beeswax.” Student. bell bottom: a sailor bent: drunk berries: (1) perfect (2) money big cheese: important person big six: a strong man; from auto advertising, for the new and powerful six cylinder engines. bimbo: a tough guy bird: general term for a man or woman, sometimes meaning “odd,” i.e. “What a funny old bird.” blotto (1930 at the latest): drunk, especially to an extreme bootleg: illeagal liquor breezer (1925): a convertable car bug-eyed Betty (1927): an unattractive girl, student. bull: (1) a policeman or law-enforcement official, including FBI. (2) nonesense (3) to chat idly, to exaggerate bump off: to kill bum’s rush, the: ejection by force from an establishment bunny (1925): a term of endearment applied to the lost, confused, etc. Often coupled with “poor little.” bus: any old or worn out car.

C

cake-eater: a lady’s man caper: a criminal act or robbery. cat’s meow: great, also “cat’s pajamas” and “cat’s whiskers” cash: a kiss Cash or check?: Do we kiss now or later? cast a kitten: to have a fit. Used in both humorous and serious situations. i.e. “Stop tickling me or I’ll cast a kitten!” Also, “have kittens.” cheaters: eye glasses check: Kiss me later. chewing gum: double-speak, or ambiguous talk. choice bit of calico: attractive female, student. chopper: a Thompson Sub-Machine Gun, due to the damage its heavy .45 caliber rounds did to the human body.  chunk of lead: an unnattractive female, student. clam: a dollar coffin varnish: bootleg liquor, often poisonous. copacetic: excellent crasher: a person who attends a party uninvited crush: infatuation cuddler: one who likes to make out

D

daddy: a young woman’s boyfriend or lover, especially if he’s rich. daddy-o: a term of address dame: a female. Did not gain widespread use until the 1930’s. dapper: a Flapper’s dad darb: a great person or thing. “That movie was darb.” dead soldier: an empty beer bottle. deb: a debutant. dewdropper: a young man who sleeps all day and doesn’t have a job. dogs: feet doll: an attractive woman. dolled up: dressed up don’t know from nothing: doesn’t have any information don’t take any wooden nickels: don’t do anything stupid. doublecross: to cheat, stab in the back. dough: money drugstore cowboy: A well-dressed man who loiters in public areas trying to pick up women. dry up: shut up, get lost ducky: very good dumb Dora: an absolute idiot, a dumbbell, especially a woman; flapper.

E

earful: enough egg: a person who lives the big life

F

face stretcher: an old woman trying to look young fella: fellow. As common in its day as “man,” “dude,” or “guy” is today. “That John sure is a swell fella.” fire extinguisher: a chaperone fish: (1) a college freshman (2) a first timer in prison flat tire: a bore flivver: a Model T; after 1928, also could mean any broken down car. floorflusher: an insatiable dancer flour lover: a girl with too much face powder fly boy: a glamorous term for an aviator For crying out loud!: same usage as today four-flusher: a person who feigns wealth while mooching off others.

G

gams (1930): legs gatecrasher: see “crasher” get-up (1930): an outfit. get a wiggle on: get a move on, get going get in a lather: get worked up, angry giggle water: booze gimp: cripple; one who walks with a limp.  Gangster Dion O’Bannion was called Gimpy due to his noticeable limp. gin mill: a seller of hard liquor; a cheap speakeasy glad rags: “going out on the town” clothes go chase yourself: get lost, scram. gold-digger (1925): a woman who pursues men for their money. goods, the: (1) the right material, or a person who has it (2) the facts, the truth, i.e. “Make sure the cops don’t get the goods on you.” goof: (1) a stupid or bumbling person, (2) a boyfriend, flapper. goofy: in love grummy: depressed grungy: envious

H

handcuff: engagement ring hard-boiled: tough, as in, a tough guy, ie: “he sure is hard-boiled!” hayburner: (1) a gas guzzling car (2) a horse one loses money on heavy sugar (1929): a lot of money heebie-jeebies (1926): “the shakes,” named after a hit song. heeler: a poor dancer high hat: a snob. hip to the jive: cool, trendy hit on all sixes: to perform 100 per cent; as “hitting on all six cylinders”; perhaps a more common variation in these days of four cylinder engines was “hit on all fours”.  See “big six”. hood (late 20s): hoodlum hooey:  nonsense. Very popular from 1925 to 1930, used somewhat thereafter. hop: a teen party or dance Hot dawg!: Great!; also: “Hot socks!"  Rarely spelled as shown outside of flapper circles until popularized by 1940s comic strips. hot sketch: a card or cut-up

I

"I have to go see a man about a dog.”: “I’ve got to leave now,” often meaning to go buy whiskey. icy mitt: rejection insured: engaged iron (1925): a motorcycle, among motorcycle enthusiasts iron one’s shoelaces: to go to the restroom ish kabibble (1925): a retort meaning “I should care."  Was the name of a musician in the Kay Kayser Orchestra of the 1930s.

J

jack: money Jake: great, ie. "Everything’s Jake.” Jalopy: a dumpy old car Jane: any female java: coffee jeepers creepers: a term of exclamation jitney: a car employed as a private bus. Fare was usually five-cents; also called a “nickel.” joe: coffee Joe Brooks: a perfectly dressed person; student. john: a toilet joint: establishment juice joint: a speakeasy

K

kale: money keen: appealing killjoy: a solemn person knock up: to make pregnant know one’s onions: to know one’s business or what one is talking about

L

lay off: cut the crap left holding the bag: (1) to be cheated out of one’s fair share (2) to be blamed for something let George do it: a work evading phrase level with me: be honest limey: a British soldier or citizen, from World War I line: a false story, as in “to feed one a line.” live wire: a lively person lollapalooza (1930): a humdinger lollygagger: (1) a young man who enjoys making out (2) an idle person

M

manacle: wedding ring mazuma: money milquetoast (1924): a very timid person; from the comic book character Casper mind your potatoes: mind your own business. mooch: to leave moonshine: homemade whiskey mop: a handkerchief munitions: face powder

N

neck: to kiss passionately necker: a girl who wraps her arms around her boyfriend’s neck. nifty: great, excellent noodle juice: tea Not so good!: I personally disapprove. “Now you’re on the trolley!”: Now you’ve got it, now you’re right.

O

off one’s nuts: crazy Oh yeah!: I doubt it! old boy: a male term of address, used in conversation with other males. Denoted acceptance in a social environment.  Also “old man” “old fruit.” “How’s everything old boy?” Oliver Twist: a skilled dancer on a toot: a drinking binge on the lam: fleeing from police on the level: legitimate, honest on the up and up: on the level orchid: an expensive item ossified: drunk owl: a person who’s out late

P

palooka: (1) a below-average or average boxer (2) a social outsider, from the comic strip character Joe Palooka, who came from humble ethnic roots panic: to produce a big reaction from one’s audience percolate: (1) to boil over (2) As of 1925, to run smoothly; “perk” pet: necking, only more; making out petting pantry: movie theater piffle: baloney piker: (1) a cheapskate (2) a coward pill: (1) a teacher (2) an unlikable person pinch: to arrest. Pinched: to be arrested. pinko: liberal pipe down: stop talking prom-trotter: a student who attends all school social functions pos-i-lute-ly: affirmative, also “pos-i-tive-ly” punch the bag: small talk putting on the ritz: after the Ritz Hotel in Paris (and its namesake Caesar Ritz); doing something in high style. Also “ritzy.”

Q

R

rag-a-muffin: a dirty or disheveled individual rain pitchforks: a downpour razz: to make fun of Real McCoy: a genuine item regular: normal, typical, average; “Regular fella.” Reuben: an unsophisticated country bumpkin. Also “rube” Rhatz!: How disappointing! rub: a student dance party rubes: money or dollars rummy: a drunken bum

S

sap: a fool, an idiot. Very common term in the 20s. says you: a reaction of disbelief scratch: money screaming meemies: the shakes screw: get lost, get out, etc. Occasionally, in pre 1930 talkies (such as The Broadway Melody) screw is used to tell a character to leave. One film features the line “Go on, go on – screw!"  screwy: crazy; "You’re screwy!” sheba: one’s girlfriend sheik: one’s boyfriend simolean: a dollar sinker: a doughnut sitting pretty: in a prime position skirt: an attractive female smarty: a cute flapper smudger: a close dancer sockdollager: an action having a great impact so’s your old man: a reply of irritation speakeasy: a bar selling illeagal liquor spill: to talk spoon: to neck, or at least talk of love static: (1) empty talk (2) conflicting opinion stilts: legs struggle: modern dance stuck on: in love, student. sugar daddy: older boyfriend who showers girlfriend with gifts swanky: (1) good (2) elegant swell: (1) good (2) a high class person

T

take someone for a ride: to take someone to a deserted location and murder them. tasty: appealing teenager: not a common term until 1930; before then, the term was “young adults.” tell it to Sweeney: tell it to someone who’ll believe it. tight: attractive Tin Pan Alley: the music industry in New York, located between 48th and 52nd Streets tomato: a “ripe” female torpedo: a hired thug or hitman

U

unreal: special upchuck: to vomit upstage: snobby

V

vamp: (1) a seducer of men, an aggressive flirt (2) to seduce voot: money

W

water-proof: a face that doesn’t require make-up wet blanket: see Killjoy wife: dorm roomate, student. What’s eating you?: What’s wrong? whoopee: wild fun Woof! Woof!: ridicule

X

Y

You slay me!: That’s funny!

Z

zozzled: drunk

  have fun.

[chasing-classics]

I See You, I Love You- Lexi x Reader

Pairing(s): Lexi Howard x Reader

 Warning(s): language

 Summary: Lexi has been in Cassie’s shadow for as long as she can remember so she’s given up on the idea that you, her best friend, could ever be interested in her. At the winter formal, you show her exactly how you feel.

 A/N: Lexi Howard is a fucking saint and she deserves the absolute best! She needs more love lol

 ‘’What did you think of the dance?’’ you beamed, sitting down next to your best friend.

 Lexi offered her signature smile, that little twinkle in her eyes shining bright and taking your breath away.

 ‘’You were great, as always,’’ she nodded, holding her geometry book to her chest as she smiled down at the floor.

 That was typical Lexi. She and you came from two completely different worlds and personalities. You were outgoing, the class clown and the life of every party. Lexi was the bookworm, the quiet girl with the heart of gold. And you loved her more than anything in this world. You had become fast friends with the Howard sisters, Cassie and you had similar interests and personalities so you two clicked immediately in elementary school. Nearly everyday after school was spent at your house or at the mall growing up. You easily considered Cassie one of your best friends, but it had been Lexi you had fallen in love with.

 Unbeknownst to you, Lexi had fallen just as hard. She remembered feeling something different towards you growing up, but watching all of the attention Cass would get from guys and the pressure from her mother to ‘’bag a man’’ made it difficult to come forward with her feelings towards you. It wasn’t like her mom was homophobic or anything, and she absolutely adored you and was charmed by your witty humor, but she had always been in her sister’s shadow for as long as she could remember. How could she suddenly, after ten years of friendship, come clean about her feelings towards one of her closest friends? How could she possibly jeopardize that, when she was so used to being second-best to Cass? How could you ever see her more than what she was; plain-Jane Lexi.

 ‘’Are you going to the formal tonight?’’ you playfully bumped her shoulder with yours as you two took your time walking to your car.

 ‘’Yeah, want to pick me up?’’ she smiled, tucking a tendril of wavy brown hair behind her ear.

 ‘’Abso-fucking-lutely,’’ you grinned, opening the car door for her.

 This was it, this was going to be the night you were going to confess your feelings to Lexi. After you had chickened out about asking her to the formal, Maddy, BB, Kat, and Cass all gave you the stern pep-talk you so desperately needed. ‘So are you just going to wait around until some loser makes a move on her?’ Maddy scoffed. Your eyes furrowed in both jealousy and protectiveness. ‘It’s true, I saw Chris Rivas talking to her in P.E today,’ BB added, taking a hit of her vape. You clenched your jaw at the thought of that meat head anywhere near Lexi. Cassie grabbed your hand encouragingly, a small smile on her glossy lips. ‘She likes you back, y/n. Just. . .just tell her how you feel.’ And so you were. As you walked up to the porch of the Howards’ house, makeup done to your liking and your dress looked absolutely stunning.

 ‘’Y/N! Oh honey you look stunning,’’ Miss Howards exclaimed, the typical half-empty wine glass in her hands. You smiled, giving her a hug as she welcomed you inside. Cassie came down the stairs first, dressed in a simple but elegant blue gown. You squealed and hugged your best friend, the two of you trading compliments and joy.

 ‘’Oh my gosh, Lex,’’ Miss Howards’ voice broke the two of you apart, you turning around to look up the stairs. Your jaw dropped and you swore your heart actually stopped beating for a few seconds.

 She was beautiful. She looked like a princess, only better. She had an embarrassed smile on her face, her cheeks quickly turning into a rosy pink color. You smiled when you noticed her nose crinkle up, the same way she always did whenever she was embarrassed.

 ‘’You look beautiful,’’ was all you could manage to get out, still in a daze. She laughed a bit, looking down at the ground. Neither of you noticed the knowing smile on Cassie and Miss Howards’ face.

 ‘’Take good care of my daughter, y/n,’’ she called out as the three of you flooded into your car. You gave her a cheeky grin, nodding as you made sure Lex and Cass were buckled up.

 ‘’Always!’’ you called out, watching the older woman put her wine glass away to wave to you three.

 The gym was packed, sweaty bodies were dancing and grinding in every which way you could imagine. You were currently sitting at the table with the girls, smiling as Lexi played and toyed with your charm bracelet out of boredom.

 ‘’I’m going to go get a drink, Rue, you should come,’’ Jules announced, causing you to quirk a brow.

 ‘’Huh? Ohhh, Oh! Yeah! Coming,’’ Rue grinned, winking at you.

 ‘’I should go apologize to Ethan,’’ Kat sighed, offering you an encouraging smile.

 ‘’I’m going to go kick Nate’s ass, enjoy you guys,’’ Maddy sent a quick smile as she glared daggers at the Neanderthal currently fingering some random blonde on the dance floor.

 ‘’I’m going to suck dick,’’ BB coughed, smirking as she blew out a cloud and swayed away with some random baseball player.

 ‘’I’m going to watch,’’ Cassie was the last to leave, the two of you now alone in your big empty table.

 ‘’Well that’s weird,’’ Lexi laughed, raising an eyebrow in confusion at the dispersed group. You shrugged, smiling back at her. ‘’You still got me,’’ you offered. Lexi nodded, smiling and leaning closer to you. You felt your face flush as you realized how close you two were, and the two of you cleared your throat; praying that the other couldn’t sense how fucking nervous you both were. ‘It’s now or never,’ you relented in your head. You turned in your seat so that you completely faced Lexi, her sitting up straight as she noticed your change in attitude.

‘’Y/n? You ok?’’

 ‘’N-no. I mean, yes! Well, sort of. Fuck this isn’t how it was supposed to start,’’ you huffed, pinching your brows together in frustration. You froze when you felt Lexi’s soft hands hold yours down from your face, her eyes searching yours as if she could read your thoughts.

 ‘’How what was supposed to start?’’ she asked softly.

 You thumbed at her hand, sighing. You looked her right in the eye, taking a gulp and trying to remember the girls’ words of encouragement.

‘’Lexi. . .I’m in love with you.’’

 Her eyes widened in shock, her grip on your hands became slightly looser as your heart clamored in your chest.

 ‘’I’ve been in love with you since fourth grade, when you helped me the day Nate Jacobs gave me a bloody nose from that football. I loved you then, I loved you when you could barely say one fucking sentence the day you got your braces, I loved you when you told me Rue couldn’t kiss for shit, I loved you when you came over at my house in the middle of the night crying about your dad, I loved you when you made me chicken noodle soup when I was sick with the flu last summer, and I love you now. I probably always will. I love everything you do and I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you without making it weird between us, because I’d hate myself if I ever lost you. . .and now I’m rambling, but. . .it’s true. . . I love you.’’

  You felt your body shake as Lexi processed  your words. On one hand the weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. The burden of carrying such a heavy secret had finally ceased to exist, dissipating into thin air. On the other hand, though, you were terrified of what Lexi’s reaction would be.

 ‘’Y/n. . .you don’t mean that.’’

 You were crushed, physically deflating. ‘’W-what?’’ you whispered, trying not to allow your voice to crack. Lexi shakily sighed, eyes glossy with unshed tears as she looked at the dance floor to avert your devastated gaze.

 ‘’My whole life, I’ve been runner up. I’ve never been enough. Nobody has ever really seen me. And you, you’re so wonderful. You shine in a crowd, everyone loves you. Everyone sees you. And as much as I love you too. . .which I do. I fucking love you so much, I’m not enough for you. I’ll never be enough,’’ tears streamed down her pale cheeks and when you went to brush them away, Lexi sniffled and pulled away.

 ‘’Lex. . .I want this, I want you. Why can’t you see that?’’ you whimpered, heart breaking at the sight of her crying.

 ‘’Y/n, I’ve never been enough for anyone. Not my parents. Not our friends. I don’t want this to be the same,’’ she was close to sobbing as she stood up, pushing her way through the crowd toward the exit.

 ‘’Lexi!’’ you called out, panicking. You had come this far, confessed this much. You couldn’t let her leave feeling like this, like you didn’t see her. Without thinking, you made a bee-line for the stage, abruptly cutting off the DJ and grabbing the microphone.

 ‘’Hello? Sorry, sorry guys I just. . . I really need to say something,’’ you exhaled, closing your eyes momentarily to gather your courage. You opened them and right away found Lexi, stunned and tears running down her cheeks as she looked at you like you had lost your mind. At this point, you weren’t sure she was wrong.

 ‘’That girl over there, the one in the black dress. With the most beautiful fucking eyes and smile you’ve ever seen,’’ you started, someone moving the spotlight so that it rested on Lexi’s general direction.

 ‘’Yeah, that’s her. Lexi. Listen. . .I don’t know if she’ll hate me for doing this. And if you do, Lex, I understand. But the last thing I’m going to do is let you leave without showing you how much you mean to me. I’m not afraid if the whole fucking school knows it, I’ll say it to anyone who will listen. Lexi Howard is the most beautiful, the most down-to-Earth, kindest, funniest, most loyal person you’d ever hope to meet. Those are just some of the reasons I fell in love with her when we were in fourth grade. And as much as I thought I loved her back then, that’s absolutely nothing to how much I love her now,’’ tears cascaded down your cheeks, you felt the entire school looking at you but all you focused on was Lexi.

 Her mouth hung open, tears still glossy in her eyes as she stood there, listening to every word you said. The shadow of a smile on her red lips.

 ‘’You’re worried that you’re not enough for me? Lexi. . .you are everything. I see you, I love you. And I’m not going to stop just because you’re scared. I don’t care how long it takes, I’m going to prove it to you that I’m not going anywhere,’’ you smiled through your tears. You could vaguely see her smile, hands covering her mouth soon after as she began taking small steps towards you.

 You gently handed the mic back to the DJ, who you could’ve sworn was choking back a few tears of his own (whether it was from being faded or actually moved by your speech, you didn’t know) and began walking towards Lexi. Nothing around you mattered other than the girl you were walking towards. Not the whole school who was clapping and cheering, not the girls crying out of joy and merriment, not even the fact that your makeup was absolutely fucked due to your emotional outburst.

‘’Lex please don’t hate-‘’ your eyes flew open when she tackled you into a mind-blowing kiss, her hands caressing the back of your head as she crashed her lips onto yours.

 You quickly kissed back, holding the side of her face as the world completely faded from your view. You didn’t know how long you stood there in the middle of the dancefloor, kissing your dream girl like it was a bad high school musical deleted scene. But you didn’t give two shits.

‘’I love you too,’’ she whispered, staring into your eyes as you held each other. You nodded, smiling as a new wave of tears threatened to escape. She smiled back, the two of you kissing and smiling, wrapped around in each other’s gentle embrace. Wrapped around in the start of your new forever.

[smallerinfinities]

mad woman (nessian)

a/n: In which Nesta copes and Feyre interjects

hello! again, new here ☺️ this kind of just...happened? the idea came upon me late talking with @harryandmolly​ idk anyways hope you enjoy! if you don’t like modern AUs then this probably isn’t for you, but if you’re into that sort of thing and all the warnings that go with it then I would love to hear what you think!

tw: angst, coping with death, sex work, language

original art by the incomparable charlie bowater

Things were great until they weren’t. 

Nesta Archeron had been engaged. She had a father who loved her and a sister she adored. Until the plane crash. Until a faulty navigational system sent her fiancé, her father, and her sister into the side of a mountain on the way to her destination wedding.

She had gone to Hybern early, to get settled and calm her nerves, to plan around the security that Feyre had hired so that Rhys could attend the wedding. Nesta had told her not to bother, Rhys could stay in Velaris for all she cared. She’d gone and set it all up anyway. But it had all exploded when Nesta got the call that her world had ended and all she had left was a sister she resented and a brother-in-law with too high a profile. She was a tragic headline. A fucking media circus. 

High Lord Rhysand’s sister-in-law left at the altar in tragic plane crash. 

The press camped outside her Velaris studio for weeks. They’d only left when she had thrown a maelstrom of empty glass bottles out of her windows at them. Empty because she’d come back to Velaris and crawled inside a whiskey bottle and stayed there. She might be more whiskey than person now. The days were passing at a rate she couldn’t gauge anymore. Had it been hours or days or months since she’d picked up the phone in the middle of placing name cards on tables in the reception hall? She didn’t particularly care. Everyone who mattered was dead and being drunk was better than counting the minutes since her future had evaporated. 

A knock sounded at the door. 

Nesta removed the eye mask she was wearing and squinted at her phone. 7:15 AM. She’d been up all night again, had just laid down to try and sleep. Who the fuck was at her door at this hour?

She knew but she opened the door anyway. 

Feyre Archeron, High Lady of the Night Court, was in the hallway looking worried. Well, Nesta assumed she was looking worried. She could only see Feyre’s furrowed eyebrows between the oversized sunglasses and the wide-brimmed sun hat. She had wrapped her red-gold hair, twin to Nesta’s own color, into a low chignon to hide it away from prying eyes. A disguise. Nesta snorted. Feyre Archeron could be noticed in this city by a blind man a hundred yards down a busy avenue. It was the way she carried herself, the easy confidence. No one could mistake her for anyone but their High Lady. 

“What do you want?” Nesta crossed her arms over her chest, blocking the view into her apartment.

“Well, to start, a little respect for the person who has been footing your liquor bill for the last eight months.” Her red lips were turned down at the corners, tight. She angled her head past Nesta’s shoulder and crinkled her nose, “God, I don’t even need to see in there to know what it must look like. I can smell it from here. And I can see you.” 

Nesta kept her face a mask of annoyance but considered how she must look. Compared to Feyre’s heavy cream sweater and perfectly tailored tan pants, anyone would look slovenly but Nesta knew she'd let herself go.

A while ago, she’d taken to wearing Tomas’ shirts to bed. Then eventually she wasn’t getting out of bed so it was all the time, changing only when she found the strength to shower. Today’s shirt—more like this week’s shirt if she was being honest with herself—was an old striped dress shirt, one Tomas had maybe worn twice with a suit. It now had several stains from whiskey and whatever takeout she had ordered last night. She couldn’t quite remember. Chinese? Greek? 

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Her marriage was supposed to be one of convenience. They had been friends, had both gotten older and then tossed in the towel on dating. Tomas needed a cover for a lifestyle his parents forbade and Nesta...well Nesta wanted to be comfortable. Nesta wanted her sister to stop meddling and leave her alone. At least, she thought she did. 

But, no one had known. No one except Elain.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. 

Her hair hadn’t been washed in days, it was matted in some places, stuck to her face in others. She knew her eyes were hollow, sunken in and lacking that fire people saw when they looked at her. She’d been avoiding her own reflection for weeks, had even covered the mirror by the door. Months ago, apparently. Eight months. 

Had it really been that long? Had she really been moving from bottle to bottle, takeout container to takeout container, for eight whole months? She’d barely left the apartment, had lost her job, happy to exploit Feyre’s seemingly unending pity. Pity she guessed had run out. 

Today. 

She didn’t care about that either.

“Come all this way to chide me, dear sister?” Nesta curled her lips as she moved aside to let Feyre through. Might as well let her see. 

“Thank you.” Her sister breezed into the little sitting area and stopped dead.

Her eyes scanned the room, marking the recycling bin first, overflowing with empty glass bottles. All different labels. Whatever Nesta could find quickest. Then the kitchen counters, filled with boxes of crackers and empty ramen noodle packages, cans of tuna and an open jar of peanut butter, anything that could be quickly consumed with minimal effort. She didn’t want to die, but she hadn’t exactly been concerned with living either. 

At last her eyes darted to the corner, over by the window, where a white dress hung from a hunting knife that had been punched through the wall. Straight through the center of the sweetheart neckline. Nesta had lost count of the weeks it had been there. A reminder. A memorial. Little circular burns littered the fishtail skirt, remnants of late nights with too much booze and an ashtray full of half-smoked blunts still on the windowsill. 

“Oh, Nesta.” Feyre’s hand came up to cup her mouth. Nesta raised her chin, refusing to feel reprimanded. “I’m sending Alis this afternoon.” 

“I can look after myself,” Nesta hissed through her teeth. 

“Clearly,” Feyre threw her arms wide and turned in a circle, “you cannot. You know I came here hoping you were getting better. I gave you space, knew you blamed me for what happened. At least partially. But it’s time, Nesta. I lost them too. But I don’t have the luxury of drinking and smoking my way into oblivion on my sister’s dime.” 

“Is this just about the money?” Nesta asked incredulously, “I’ll fucking pay you back if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“No, no,” Feyre brushed a lock of hair out of her face, frustrated, “it’s not the money. I don’t care about the money. Neither does Rhys. We just want you to come back to the land of the living.” 

“Ah, yes. The royal We.” Nesta sat abruptly on her sunken couch and leaned forward, not caring that she was just wearing a pair of underwear beneath the oversized shirt, “how is dearest Rhys? High Lording as well as ever I presume. Now with better reasons than ever to hate me.” 

“He doesn’t hate you,” she said too quickly, wringing her fingers for a moment before she whispered, “we...we missed you at the funerals.” 

Nesta’s blood ran cold. Her eyes swam with tears that wouldn’t fall.

“I know why you didn’t show,” Feyre couldn’t look at her, “I almost understand it...but we still missed you. Father was interred with full honors of the Night Court. I’m having a garden planted for Elain up at the estate. You should come see it when you’re ready.” 

Nesta really needed a drink. Feyre needed to leave. She couldn’t do this. Not now. Not today. Not ever. 

“Get out.” 

“Nesta—”

“Get out.” Nesta’s voice was low, lethal. 

“Fine,” the High Lady voice was back in full force, “I only really came to give you this.” She pulled out what looked like a business card from her freshly pressed pant pocket, “this might seem...forward. But, I think it might help you. Rhys and I use the service sometimes when we’re looking for something different. I know you won’t go see someone. This might be a different kind of therapy. Tell her I sent you, she’ll know what to do.”

“Fine, fine,” Nesta took the card from her, hoping it would get her to leave faster, “get out.” 

“Nesta,” Feyre stopped and took a breath, her hand wrapped around the doorknob, “please do be discrete.” 

Nesta furrowed her brow, but nodded. She had been, for the most part. Except on nights she was too blitzed to remember her own name, let alone that her sister was High Lady of this region. 

“I’m still sending Alis,” Feyre wrinkled her nose again as she opened the door and strolled out. And that was that. No goodbye. They hadn’t ever been good at those. 

Nesta blinked at the door, the apartment suddenly feeling small and cramped. She turned over the card in her hand. It had only a name and a number. AMREN. 202-555-0187. She flicked it onto the table. Whatever, she thought as she sauntered over to the kitchen and took a swig from the nearest whiskey bottle. 

↞↠

“Ms. Archeron.”

“Yes?” The tone of the man’s voice made her drop the place card she had been holding. 

“There’s been an accident. A plane crash,” he hesitated. Her eyes stopped seeing. Her body shivered with a bone-rattling chill despite the summer sun streaming into the room through the open windows. They couldn’t be—

“Say it.” Her voice was a breath on the wind. 

“There were no survivors.”

She didn’t hear the rest. Someone was screaming. A crash, glass breaking, warmth sliding down her leg. A sharp, metallic smell in the air. She couldn’t hear them calling her name, couldn’t feel their fingers gripping her skin, feel the pressure of the towel collecting the blood from the gash in her leg. 

A plane crash, he’d said. No survivors. 

Tomas was dead. 

Her father was dead.

Elain…she had just planted flowers for spring. 

A fresh scream ripped from her throat.

↞↠

She woke up with it echoing in her ears, heart pounding. Wrenching the fresh sheets off her clammy skin, she felt for the scar on her thigh, catapulting her back into the present. Nesta hadn’t let them stitch it for days, had wanted to remember. It had almost festered. Feyre had held her down while they numbed and sutured. Most of those days were lost now, either to shock or sleep, she didn’t know. It hadn’t taken long for the drinking to start. 

Her head was pounding. Alis had stormed the apartment hours earlier, tut-tutting about the stale stench, throwing open every window. Nesta actually appreciated the fresh air. She didn’t appreciate the old woman’s silent appraisal of her ruined wedding dress. 

“Don’t touch it,” Nesta had snapped. Alis had tut-tutted some more, cleaning as she went, but she left the dress alone. 

Now, with a clean apartment and nothing to keep her company but her own self-pity, she laid spread-eagle in her bed that felt too big in clothes that felt too clean. Nothing matched her insides anymore. The small, decrepit thing inside of her that shrivelled that day and rejected everything still living. Even herself. She had never been a particularly warm person, but Elain, sweet and beautiful Elain, had made her care about something outside of herself.

She got up to find something to dull her head. A bottle of ibuprofen sat on the coffee table, next to a decanter of scotch. She washed the pills down with the brown liquor and sat on the edge of the sofa, her head in her hands.

The silence pressed her on her eardrums. An oppressive lack of sound, only the barest of sounds audible on the street. Too quiet. For the first time in months it was too quiet. Her head shot up and focused, eyes darting to the card neatly placed in the corner of the table. 

Amren. 

What had Feyre meant, “a different kind of therapy”? Hell would have to freeze over before Nesta crawled onto a couch to talk about her feelings, Feyre had admitted as much. So what was this? 

She picked up the card and flipped it over. Simple, white, just the number in embossed black. The curiosity was going to kill her if she didn’t just call the number. She reached for her phone, hauled out from between the couch cushions by Alis earlier. It had been dead for weeks. She’d given up on ignoring the condolences calls and just let the battery drain. Probably why Feyre had shown up yesterday unannounced. She swiped past all of the missed call and voicemail notifications and pulled up the keypad. 

It only rang once. 

“Yes?” A clipped, cold voice answered the phone. 

“Uhh, is this Amren?” 

“Speaking,” her voice didn’t soften, “can I help you?” 

“My sister gave me your card,” Nesta didn’t like this woman. She wracked her brain to think of how this person could help her, especially when she didn’t particularly want anyone’s help. 

“And who, my dear,” Nesta could hear the snide smile in Amren’s voice, “is your sister?”

“Feyre,” Nesta huffed, “Feyre Archeron.” 

“Oh, Feyre darling! Why didn’t you say so?” Amren warmed immediately. Well, at least to a level above stone cold. “Yes, Feyre told me about you.”

“You must have read—”

“I don't read the news, dear girl,” Amren said, flippant. “I have someone perfect for you. I will send him. Already have your address.” 

God, she really needed to have a conversation with Feyre about boundaries. Who is she sending?

“Who are you sending?” Nesta had not been sober long enough for this. Her brain wasn’t firing quick enough to deal with whoever this person was sending to her apartment. 

“His name is Cassian. He’ll be at your apartment in two hours.” 

Two hours?!

“I can’t have anyone in my apartment in two hours! What is this??” 

“We call it therapy,” just like Feyre had, “you don’t need to do anything to prepare.” 

“But I don’t even—” The line went dead. 

Nesta stared at her phone. How could I prepare if I don’t know what to prepare for?

↞↠

Two hours later, Nesta was pacing. Nervous. She was rarely nervous but she was also rarely unprepared. This felt like a bad omen, like suspense in a horror film. Like this Cassian might jump out of the shadows at any moment from some secret portal. 

She had washed her hair but no makeup. She had put on leggings but no real pants. There were concessions she was willing to make and others she wasn’t. It didn’t matter that they were only concessions to her own pride. Feyre got one opportunity to meddle in Nesta’s life, one opportunity to try and control how she coped with losing everything. Nesta would endure it in her own home, in her bare feet, or she wouldn’t endure it at all. 

An assertive knock at the door made her jump. 

Her heart thundered. She hadn’t talked to a man in months, let alone been in a small space with one. Now there was one at her door. She padded across her expensive rug, smoothing her hair as she went. Her hand gripped the doorknob, giving herself a second to stop shaking. Breathe in, breathe out. She jerked the door open only to be left utterly speechless. 

The most beautiful man she’d ever seen was leaning on the door frame, forearms crossed over his massive chest. 

“Nesta?” one corner of his full mouth curved upward. He inclined his head behind her left shoulder after she nodded. “Gonna let me in?” 

“Why should I?” She challenged, angling her chin up at him. 

“Because,” his shoulder length black hair slid into his face as his towering frame looked down at her. He came closer and held her chin between his rough fingers, “you’re at least a little curious about what I’m doing here.” 

Nesta ripped her face from his hands and took a step away from him. His hazel eyes stripped her bare. How does he do that? He appraised her frankly, taking in her sloppily thrown together appearance. The baby hairs that clung to the side of her face, unable to stay in her top knot. Her soft curves that the oversized t-shirt she wore only hinted at. All the way down to her toes, the cracked polish left over from her wedding manicure, just a couple of splotches of color left. 

His gaze sent a warmth through her. She tried to will it away, send it back to the hell she belonged in. Shaking her head, she stuck him with a glare. 

“Fine,” she stepped aside, “come in and tell me what you’re doing here so I can tell you to get out.” 

He walked in smoothly, his gray slacks gripping his toned thighs with each stride. Too casual, Nesta thought, for a therapist, especially with his white shirt open at the collar and rolled to his elbows. Not that she actually believed whatever this was even approached therapy.

He stopped in the center of Nesta’s living room and turned, giving the place as detailed a once-over as he had given her. His eyes only paused briefly on the wedding dress still hanging in the corner, but he faced her again as if nothing were out of the ordinary. 

“So,” he took up so much space as he spoke, too big, too much life for this apartment that had only contained her hollow soul for so long, “everyone up to this point has referred to this appointment as therapy, correct?” 

“Yes,” Nesta replied, curt. “But you’re no therapist, are you, Cassian?”

He snorted, a challenge to her fire temper. She didn’t like to be mocked and somehow he knew that. “No, I’m no therapist.” 

“I’m what is referred to in the circles you run in as an escort, a friend, of sorts.” He looked her dead in the eye. No shame, no fear. Just a professional. “We call it therapy, first and foremost for discretion, but also because I’m here to make you feel better. Feel alive again. In whatever form that might take.”

Nesta stiffened. Her mouth dropped open. No. “My sister sent me a hooker? You’re telling me that, my sister, the High Lady of the Night Court, sent me a hooker?!” 

She could barely keep up with the 100 mile an hour thoughts racing through her head. It wasn’t long before the pacing started again. Feyre said she uses the service sometimes...with Rhys?! She maybe could have guessed that her sister and her ass of a husband were freaky but prostitutes?! Couldn’t they just ask someone? 

Nesta, please do be discrete, she’d said as she walked out the door. She guessed paying for silence was easier than risking a secret. Money is always the best form of currency. 

Well, I guess I fucking know why. And she set this up for me?! What in hell’s fire did she think she was doing?

Cassian just stood there while her brain worked, while it exploded with all of this new information. So still, a statue compared to her frantic pacing. He must deal with this a lot. But wait, don’t people usually know what they’re asking for?! 

“You’ve never–“ she couldn’t finish the question out loud. Sharing was something foreign to Nesta even when she wasn’t talking about sexual partners. 

“No,” he shook his head, “Amren wouldn’t have sent me here if I had. She just told me the context of the visit.”

“So, you’re here,” Nesta stopped in front of him, “to have sex with me?” The words came out a whisper. They sounded so foreign, so ridiculous. 

“I’m here to help you.” He took a step toward her. The walls came down fast.

“And why do you think you can help me?” The words cut through the space like a knife. Accusatory, incredulous, they almost stung passing over her vocal cords. 

“Because, dear Nesta,” he took another step toward her, and another, “I’m very good at helping people.” 

The warmth in her blood returned and warred with the acid coursing through her veins, the hate. It came raging back from this morning, from the past months, from ten minutes ago when this cocky prick knocked on her door. He was staring again, close enough to have to look down at her, just an inch or two from touching. 

“I don’t need help from a high-dollar whore,” she spat. The only sign that she’d hit her mark was a faint twitch in his eyebrow. 

“I’ve been called worse, sweetheart,” he drawled. “But let’s get one thing straight. I think you need help more than you’d ever admit. I don’t think you’ve taken a breath since then. I read the papers. A beloved dead sister. Absent from the funerals. You blame yourself for not being there, for not dying with them. The guilt warms your bed at night while you lie awake, as much a part of you as the alcohol that twinges your breath. It’s become so familiar you don’t remember what it’s like without it. Who would Nesta Archeron be without that dark stain on her conscience following her like a storm cloud? Will all those liquor bottles I saw outside answer that question for you? Will that tattered wedding dress?”

“How dare–“ she felt the door press against her back, unconsciously moving with him while he lashed at her burning soul, fire for fire. 

“Oh, I dare,” he continued, planting his hands on the door behind her, trapping her with his eyes. “Because take it from someone who knows, when you decide to wake up and live with what you have left instead of existing with everything you’ve lost, there may not be anything left to live with. And trust me, guilt makes a very lonely bedfellow.”

Nesta had barely blinked this whole time, refusing to let him have that victory. Even if everything he’d said had hit home. Even if everything he’d said had flayed her open and raked her insides across the coals. She still burned with that unyielding rage. 

“Is that what you say to all the girls that pay for your time?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. She was close enough to smell him, the warm spice of clove and sandalwood with a distinctly male musk. It was intoxicating. It was infuriating. 

“Some. Some of the men, too. I’m an equal opportunity tough lover.” 

She swallowed hard. He was close enough that if she moved an inch his hair might brush her cheek. “Is that what this is? Tough love? For someone you just met?”

“It’s the truth,” his breath tickled her face, the tension crackling like static electricity around them, “isn’t it?”

He sounded tentative for the first time, like maybe he’d overstepped. Is it really so obvious?

“Did Feyre pay you to say those things?” Or were they just written so plainly on her face?

“Nooo,” he said, lower than before, gentler, raising one of his hands like he might stroke her cheek. She cursed herself silently for hoping. He came closer then, his lips a hair’s breadth away from her ear, “Feyre paid me to fuck you senseless.” 

Goddamn him. Fire shot into her veins. Not the simmering fury of her anger but something deeper, hotter, pooling in her core. Her breath caught in a little gasp and he smiled. A wide, full grin with teeth that made him look more predator than man.

Her body was a traitor, but it made no difference. She was already burning in hell.

Cassian held still, letting her make the next move. Part of her wanted to make him stand there forever, punish him for what he said, what he knew about her, daring to say what no one else would with just one look. A different part of her wanted to rip him apart. 

“Come on, Nesta,” a prince of cats toying with his prey, “show me that fi–“

Her lips crashed against his. God, he was big. She reached around him, fingers tensed to claw at his back, and savored the muscles and sinews that made up the terrain. He pressed her into the door. His hands cupped her face, so gentle for a kiss that was anything but. Flames licked her skin everywhere he touched, at every point their bodies connected through clothing.

He leaned and gripped and suddenly she was taller than him, her legs wrapped around his middle, his fingers pressed into the curve of her ass. She gripped the sides of his face and guided him to the side, forcing herself deeper, her tongue brazenly exploring his mouth. He even tasted wild, like fresh mint and adrenaline. Her heart beat in her ears, deafening over the silence of the apartment. He moaned, so deep it vibrated in her chest.

Nesta broke first, pupils blown and breath ragged.

“Finally shut you up?” she asked, sagging back against the door, her head falling against the wood with a low thud. 

He….well, he growled. There was no other word for the sound that rippled through his whole body and found a home between her legs. Her toes curled and she thanked every god that he couldn’t see. 

“Pretty little acid tongue,” he pushed them off the door and walked her toward the bed, almost tripping twice over the plush rug. Nesta didn’t notice. She was too busy tearing at the buttons down Cassian’s chest. Each one revealed inch after inch of smooth golden skin. Licks of black ink stretched from his shoulders, mostly hidden by more shirt. She huffed, trying to shove it off, but instead caught his nipple by accident with her nails. 

His nostrils flared as he hissed and dropped her unceremoniously on the mattress. She bounced, breathless. Dangerously close to a giggle. Traitor. She schooled her features back to bored disdain. The only hint of lust was the glassy haze in her vision, honed in on Cassian’s bare chest. 

He had removed his shirt while she had been distracted by her traitorous body, discarded it somewhere above her. The black inked lines Nesta had seen stretched around his shoulders and down his arms in dark whorls and spirals. The tattoo was almost feminine in its pure decoration, a stark contrast to his cut biceps. It was beautiful. 

He was beautiful. 

“Careful, Nesta,” he chided, “someone might think you like what you see.” 

She gave him a filthy gesture. A deep, rumbling laugh escaped him as he took a step closer, his fingers grazing the outer seams of her leggings. From her ankle to her knee, where he stopped to make circles. He curved around her knee and gripped her legs, tugging her to the edge of the bed. The palms of his hands burned her skin straight through her leggings. He hadn’t tried to remove her clothes. She couldn’t decide if it was a tease or an insult. Probably both. 

“Are you just going to talk?” she cocked an eyebrow at him, “or are you going to do something productive with that mouth?” 

His eyes narrowed, “are you sure that’s what you want?” 

She wanted him. Damn her, she wanted him so bad she could barely stand to look at him. The guilt roiled in her stomach, that she should take pleasure while everyone she’d loved could no longer. He’d offered her help, but it would be her damnation. No, this was just a distraction. No amount of distraction could bring back Tomas, or her father, or Elain. 

Light from the city outside shifted and spread into the corner drawing her eye. The dress. Her wedding dress. In the night shadows, the blunt burns looked like angry, gaping voids. They whispered to her as she stared. Traitor, traitor, traitor. 

I’m here to help you. His words were poison. Bred from a kind of hope only Feyre, with her perfect life, could ever have again after what they had lost. Her want for Cassian’s body burned her from the inside, stoked the fires of the self-inflicted hell she’d cast herself into. Nothing more than a catalyst. She could take his body and burn for doing so, but she would not accept his help. 

“Cassian,” Nesta’s voice didn’t belong to her. She pulled her t-shirt up to just below her breasts, exposing her flat stomach and drawing his eyes to her waistband. “just do what you came to do.” 

The air chilled as he stiffened. Her heart raced, waiting for him, fingers teasing her bare skin. He didn’t move. She lifted a bare foot and ran it along his pant leg, coaxing him to touch her. He nodded, as if making some decision Nesta wasn’t privy to. His face, lit so beautifully by the moonlight, hardened into a mask. A smooth, smiling mask. Prince of cats no more. 

“Cassian?” 

“Dear Nesta, I do believe our time is up,” he leaned down and reached over her, his chest just grazing her belly, the only skin to skin contact they’d had. She swore she felt him shudder, but it was over in an instant. He quickly retrieved his shirt from behind her and pulled it on. 

She gaped at him, “what do you mean our time is up?” 

“I mean,” his eyes shot right through her with cool confidence, “it’s getting late and I do need my beauty sleep. I must be going.” 

“But–“ she didn’t understand. Isn’t this what he wanted? Isn’t this how he gets paid? How can he leave? 

He buttoned up his shirt, swift and efficient. Little feeling or warmth. Nesta wasn’t sure what to do. Confusion quickly gave way to anger, boiling in her veins, flushing her skin.

“So, you’re not just a whore,” she hissed, “you’re a bastard whore that can’t even finish the job.” 

“So lovely meeting you, dear Nesta,” he turned with a sweet smile and opened the door, sending any tension between them out into the hallway. He breezed through the door, clicking it shut behind him so gently he might have been a phantom. 

Nesta slammed her head against the mattress and let out a frustrated scream so loud she had no doubt the bastard whore heard it.

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Cassian’s POV is next ❤️