#i say guy friendS like it's a flock of men i only talk to 2 males irl lol

[irhabiya]

im so shitty to my guy friends but they deserve it to be honest

[diagnosedpsychosis]

Love At First Sight- Jake Seresin

Contains: A little bit of weight/body insecurity from reader, shy/coward jake, just as shy reader, fluff

Description: Jake's been acting a little differently cause he's taken an interest in you and doesn't want you to think he's a jerk. All the while he's too nervous to make a move.

Word Count: 1.4k

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Jake didn't know what had come over him so hard that the confident man he was just weeks ago, had been replaced with a coward. He noticed it. His teammates noticed it. Even the bar regulars noticed that suddenly one of the cockiest, loudest, most outgoing men in San Diego had turned into a borderline hermit.

His regular game of darts with Javy had become a once in a blue moon activity. His teasing of Bradley, Bob and Nat ceased the moment they were finished work for the day. Even the usual 6 or 7 beers he'd pound down after a long day had reduced to 2 or 3 at the most.

He had an instinct of knowing when someone was looking at him, like his teammates and would meet their eyes with nothing but a bored stare before they'd look away not wanting to be bummed out by his mood. If only they knew that wasn't how he was feeling at all.

Even tonight, as Jake sits in a corner booth at the Hard Deck, his beer turning warm in his hand, his mouth and the rapid thud of his heart almost betray his exterior as he stares at you across the bar. You're talking to Penny, the easy smile on your face enough to make the corner of his lips twitch as he sits still, imagining all the things he'd say to you if he only had the courage to get off his ass.

Then he feels eyes on him and looks away, shooting a hard look in Javy and Reuben's direction. They both whirl around, turning their backs to him and then he's back to looking at you.

"He looking again?" Penny mumbles, leaning over the bar and grinning up at you. You've been caught glancing around the room again as to not make it obvious you were staring right back at the handsome blond.

"Mmm" You hum, biting on the inside of your cheek to try and stop yourself from grinning like a fool. You glance around again, eyes moving swiftly over him and onto the next person despite the desperate yearning in your chest, begging you to look at him again.

"I don't know why you don't just go and talk to him" Penny leans forward, lowering her tone so that there isn't a chance another guy in uniform hears the exchange. You whine, bouncing your foot like you were trying to get rid of a cramp.

"Have you met me? I'll take two steps and sweat my face off" You've never been overly confident and you had High School to thank for it. It didn't matter that it's been a decade since you graduated, growing up an overweight girl and not dropping the weight until you were in your 20's made you overly receptive to judgement.

You felt better now, more confident and happier, but because you didn't get to experience that bittersweet 'teenage love', you weren't really sure how dates and interest in people being reciprocated worked. Slowly losing weight late when everyone was getting boyfriends, or pregnant or even married didn't help either.

You'd noticed guys flocking to your pretty, skinny friends on nights out, and despite how beautiful your friends promised you were, your weight was the first thing they saw. If you smiled their way you were just the sweet, chubby girl that looked like she'd drank a whole bar empty and didn't know what was in and out of her league.

You'd never really had experience talking to guys, your Dad and brother not included, so the fact a ridiculously handsome man in uniform, that you're sure never would've spared you a glance when you were bigger, had been staring at you for weeks now, made you beyond nervous to make eye contact with him, let alone talk to him like Penny has tried to convince you to do for a while now.

"Well hey, if he doesn't love your nervous sweats then he doesn't deserve you" Penny tried to make you feel better, squeezing your arm before standing back up straight to fix a couple orders from some guys at the end of the bar. Your smile slowly falls from your face and internally you curse at yourself for not having the courage to even just go and say hi.

What you don't realise is Jake's doing the same, beating himself up for becoming so darn weak that he can't stand up, take a deep breath and walk over to you. Flying planes and risking his life were easy, but talking to a pretty woman he's been coming to the Hard Deck every day for 3 weeks purely with hopes of even just seeing? He felt like he couldn't breathe.

But then he watches your exchange with Penny, his heart beating twice as hard when for the first time in 3 weeks he watches the smile he's come to adore slowly fade from your face when Penny turns her back to you. He notices your heavy exhale and the drop of your shoulders. He notices you running the tip of your index finger around the rim of the glass in your hand that you're yet to take a sip of. He notices the slight crease of your eyebrows when you gnaw on your lip, and suddenly... he's never wanted to lift someone's mood so desperately before.

He doesn't give himself even a second to talk himself out of making his way to you, the need to see your smile again all too consuming.

Whatever's on your mind has your full attention, that even when the guy you've been watching for the last 3 weeks sits down on the stool beside you, his knee grazing yours, you fail to notice and keep tracing your finger around the rim of your glass.

Jake didn't know what the hell to say that didn't make him come across as an obsessed stalker, so he tried a humorous take instead. "You know, I almost wore that exact same top today. How embarrassing would that have been if we matched?"

His voice floats right into your ear and you turn your head, sucking in a sharp breath when you realise the person that's just spoken to you, is the same person you're making yourself insecure over. You open your mouth like a goldfish, not knowing what to say as you're still trying to process the fact he's finally spoken to you, before closing your mouth again.

You look down at the obviously very feminine top you paired with plain jeans, and finally his words sink in. Your lips curve up and the moment of internal terror Jake had as you stared at him in silence, washed away.

"Only embarrassing if you pulled it off better than me" Jake's mouth pulls up into an easy smile as he stares right back at you, both completely oblivious to the group of pilots watching the exchange in surprise.

"I find it hard to believe anyone could" The flirtation rolls of Jake's tongue and he can't help grin at the sight of your cheeks flushing as you turn your head away from him slightly, looking ahead. Jake's eyes bounce over your features up close and he wonders how somebody could look so beautiful from afar, and even more mesmerising up close. He regret's not talking to you the second he saw you.

"I'm Jake" He blurts the words, almost like he can't contain them any more. The longer he goes without properly introducing himself and learning your name, the more desperate he becomes to know anything and everything about you. You look back and his eyes are immediately drawn to your lips as they curve up in the most beautifully natural smile.

Sure, he's wanted to kiss you since the moment he spotted you, but right now, as he stares at your mouth and the faint dimple poking at your cheeks, he's never been more content seeing another person happy in his life.

"Y/n" You reply softly and immediately your name is carved and filled with pure liquid gold, in Jake's heart. His heart beats to the letters of your name in morse code. His eyes fill with so much hope as he stares at you, like finding out your name is the greatest gift he could've ever gotten.

And as you stare right back at him, he wonders if telling you he's in love with you before even the suggestion of a first date is too soon.

________________________________________

My first Top Gun: Maverick short. Hope it was okay <3

[moooxy]

Tasty (18+); PART 2 OF STARVED.

MINORS DNI

Pairing: Mean!Eddie x Reader

Part 2 of STARVED

Synopsis: Eddie overhears you and Chrissy talking about him; he decides to confront you when he sees you at one of his gigs.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: flirting with older guy, drinking, Eddie being mean, slight fondling, choking, sexual tension, dirty talk

AN: reader and Eddie are assholes to each other in this / not proofread / I’m really happy with this / if you know who pike is u a real one

“What about Eddie Munson?” Your friend Lizzie adds with a huge grin on her face. Your face flushed at the thought of your last encounter with him, how he harshly sent you back home after eating you out against his kitchen side.

“He’s pretty cute,” Chrissy says - blushing like a tomato. She can’t seem to prevent her toothy grin from spreading across her cheeks, and she giggles to herself.

You want to tease her, but your friend has already beat you to it.

“Ew?” Your friend Cindy pipes up, mouth contouring into a disgusted expression. “He’s… disgusting.”

“I’d let him have me,” you tease, elbowing Chrissy lightly.

“Yeah, there’s something about him…” Chrissy sighs, awestruck. She’s looking into the distance, head in her palms. A group of you and your fellow cheerleaders are sitting on the bleachers outside, watching the track members practice.

“God, are you guys for real?” Cindy asks, scoffing.

“What? He looks like he knows what he’s doing!” You say with a laugh.

“He looks like he’s big too,” Chrissy grins.

“Chrissy!” Lizzie gasps, slapping her on the shoulder.

“It’s his confidence, right?” You say to Chrissy and she eagerly nods.

“I bet he’s bigger than Jason,” Chrissy teases and your friends choke.

You’re slightly jealous at Chrissy’s very obvious crush on your neighbour, and envy overcomes you slightly.

“Jason’s pretty big though,” you say. “Remember at that one party?”

“Oh yeah, I don’t know. Eddie is different.” Chrissy mumbles.

“True. He looks tasty and… mean.” You agree.

“Mean?” She questions you, tilting her head in confusion. “What’s wrong with being nice?”

You smile at her innocence, “Nothing. I don’t wanna corrupt you.”

“I think Eddie is nice,” she says.

“Yeah, to you.” You reply and the school bell rings. “Are we still on for tonight?” You ask, grabbing your books.

“Of course,” Chrissy grins, giggling with anticipation.

The hideout was pretty lively, surprisingly. Mostly filled with old drunks, it was packed and loud - which you liked. You eagerly dragged Chrissy here after hearing that the bartenders didn’t ID anyone.

The club was gritty, the floor was sticky and the walls were cold. Thankfully, the people warmed you both up. You looked out-of-place, but you had a feeling that wasn’t the reason for the attention you were receiving. Heavy music made the floor vibrate and a flock of men followed you and Chrissy around like lost children. They offered to buy you drinks, flirted with you, attempted to seduce you with their awful smiles.

It wasn’t long for the live band to start. There were a few cheers for them, but you were the main attraction for the crowd of middle-aged men.

Chrissy seemed to notice him before you. She was in a trance, watching the guitarist like he was a damn fallen angel. Then you realised, it was Eddie fucking Munson’s band. Desperately in need of a distraction, you focus your attention on the attractive man in front of you. He was big, burly, looked like he drove a red Chevy - he was everything Eddie was not.

You feel Chrissy’s presence beside you, but she’s still watching Eddie play. You use this to your advantage to flirt with the man 15 years older than you.

“You okay, sugar?” The man asks you, his voice hoarse and raspy. You only nod, taking a sip from your drink. You glance over at the stage, Eddie has acknowledged Chrissy - he smiles at her like a Cheshire Cat. God, you couldn’t believe how jealous you were.

Corroded Coffin’s set finally ends, you can tell when the floor stops vibrating - and at the fact that Chrissy has started to pay attention to you again.

“Leave our girls alone, Pike,” a voice teases from behind you and Chrissy. Then, you feel a leather arm being thrown over your shoulder. From the confidence in his voice, you can tell it’s Eddie Munson. Chrissy is looking up at him with admiration.

“You want that, sugar?” The man asks you and you shake your head, wriggling out of Eddie’s grasp. He only shrugs from behind you, sliding onto a barstool next to Chrissy. They talk and flirt next to you whilst Pike is seductively whispering dirty thoughts in your ear.

Blushing, you bite your lip and look at Pike. He’s smirking, hand rubbing your thigh. You glance over at Eddie, and you see him immediately look away from you - he looks annoyed.

“What say we get out of here, honey?” He asks you, and you pause. Eddie wouldn’t let anything happen to Chrissy, so you nod.

“Let me go to the bathroom first,” you dismiss yourself.

The ladies bathroom is disgusting, and you dread to imagine what the mens is like. A few deep breaths later, you swing the bathroom door open and are instantly whisked back inside by someone. You gasp, back hitting a wall as the figure locks the door behind you both. The sound of leather, bracelets jingling and a mane of hair - you know it’s Eddie.

“Well, well, sweetheart. The fuck you doing here?” He belittles you, arms casing you against the wall.

You don’t answer.

He sighs, his fingers find your neck and squeeze. They stroke your jaw bone, tickling your neck down your collarbone and you wriggle.

“Answer.”

“I heard - they don’t ask f-for ID here,” you breathe out, trying to escape his gentle fingers.

“I see,” he snarls, looking you up and down with disgust.

“I stayed because Chrissy seemed to like you,” you seethe.

He hums, “she looks at me like… I’m a god,” he grins. You roll your eyes and he starts again, “heard you both talking about me earlier. On the bleachers.”

“And?” You scoff, concealing your embarrassment with sass.

“You said I look tasty,” he snorts. “And you’d let me have you…”

“So what? Chrissy said that too,” you reply. The eye contact he had with you was so fierce, it made you conscious of your breathing, of your fly-away hairs, because god he was staring so deeply at you. “I think she likes you.”

“She’s cute, I like her too. But right now,” his fingers find your jaw again. “I’m focusing on you. Have you thought about our last encounter?”

“You were an asshole,” you mumble.

“Oh, I’m sorry sweetheart. I ate your pussy and you’re calling me an asshole? Maybe I should go find Chrissy, I think she’d be more grateful…” he says with a shit-eating grin.

“Maybe you should.”

“After I’m done with you, I will.” He gets closer to you, whispering slowly in your ear. He sends tingles down your spine, and you shuffle uncomfortably. “Look at you, wiggling around like a bitch in heat. Poor baby, you need that old man to fuck it out of you?” He taunts, mouth contouring into a sympathetic frown.

“Eddie-“

“He’s old enough to be your father, but I guess a slut like yourself wouldn’t care.” He seethes through gritted teeth, his fingers dig into your jaw bone as he forces you to look at him. “Don’t know how you have so many men on your tail when you’re such a fucking whore.”

Before you can even register your emotions, your palm strikes his cheek, short and sweet.

He chuckles, tongue poking his cheek. His jawline flexes, teeth clenched together in annoyance. “Too far?” He asks with a grin and it makes you want to slap him again. You scowl, trying to escape his arms but he holds you in place. “Oh come on, sweetheart. Don’t look at me like that-“

“You’re an asshole,” you spit. Your eyes glare into him fiercely, and he crumbles with nervousness at the pure disdain you show in your eyes.

“I’m mean, tasty, big… I know what I’m doing; you’d let me have you,” he lists with a huge grin. “You like it when I’m an asshole, don’t you?”

“Let me go,” you fret, trying your hardest to push his arm out of the way but it doesn’t budge.

“I regret sending you home,” he says, perking your interest slightly. “Because after… I was so fucking pent up,” his lips are so close to your ear. “I went out to this bar,” he whispers. “And I found a girl,” his thumb drags along your bottom lip. “I brought her to this bathroom, and you know what I did?”

It’s pretty obvious, but you shake your head.

“I made her fucking squirt,” he grins. “All over my cock. And, I imagined it was you,” he confidently tells you. “I can still taste your pussy, it was so fucking sweet.”

“Eddie, stop.” You sigh.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you want him instead of me,” he says, raising his brow to urge you to answer him.

You don’t, you can’t. Chrissy’s newfound crush on Eddie Munson has just fuelled your desire for the boy.

“That’s what I thought,” he licks his lips.

“Chrissy is probably waiting for you,” you gulp.

“I don’t want fucking Chrissy,” Eddie spits.

“Pike is waiting for me,” you murmur, trying not to show your desperation for Eddie in your eyes.

“Fuck. Fine, go.” He lets you out, thrusting himself off the wall and making his way over to the sink. He runs the faucet, soaking his face with water. It makes his eyeliner smudge, but it still looks good on him.

You don’t leave, you watch him - he glances at you in the mirror, scoffing.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he speaks up. There’s a pregnant pause in the tense air.

“I’m sorry-“

“Just go.” Eddie sternly says, and you flinch. You reach for him but he pulls back abruptly. “Fuck off.”

“Why are you so rude to me?” You pipe up. “God, you’re so childish.”

“Don’t act like you’re a saint. Before I embarrassed you that night you were fucking awful to me,” he replies and you stay silent - it was true, afterall. “Go before I say something I’ll regret.”

You want to laugh, like he hadn’t already hurt your feelings but - what fucking feelings has he got to hurt? You’re the stone cold bitch that pokes at Eddie Munson and his band of freaks, you’re the girl everyone wants to have or wants to be.

“Fine. I bet Pike will fucking entertain me,” you seethe and head for the door. His hand grabs your wrist, rings bruising your flesh. He spins you around, and before you know it - his lips are smashed onto yours.

You’re taken aback at the fierceness of his kiss, you don’t kiss back. It’s when he pulls back from you, regret filling his features is when you finally kiss him. He groans, hands on your lower back and they pull you close to him. Your hands rest on his chest, lips kissing and sucking. You could kiss him for days, he was so good at it. “Missed these lips,” he mumbles, wet sounds filling the bathroom. “Want you to suck-“

“You in there, sugar?” Pike calls out with a short knock to the door.

Your eyes flash to Eddie’s with worry, he only looks away in annoyance. His fingers tangle in yours, seemingly not wanting to give you up.

“Just… freshening up!” You call out, “I’ll only be a minute!”

“Alright, honey.”

“I can tell him to fuck off if you want me to,” Eddie mumbles, lips latching onto your shoulder.

“No, I -“ you stutter.

“What?” His eyes glance up from your shoulder to your eyes, they looked like they belonged to a puppy. “You want to go out with him?” He asks with disgust, voice raising slightly.

“No Eddie, I just - I don’t think this is a good idea.” You say and his hands are instantly off you. “I’m sorry-“

“You’re not sorry. Get the fuck out, I hope you enjoy your night with him,” he spits. Fine, if he’s so abrupt and dismissive about your reasoning, maybe you will go out with Pike.

“God, you’re such an asshole,” you mumble on your way out.

Pike’s waiting for you, he’s leaning against a wall rolling a cigarette. “You okay?” He asks you, and you only nod. You abruptly pace past him, storming through the exit doors and making your way through the town. You politely tell Pike to ‘leave you alone’ and you make your way home as fast as possible.

“Where did she go?” Eddie asks his band mate, Gareth, and he shrugs.

“Saw her leaving with that old guy,” he replies and Eddie fucking shivers in anger. His gaze turns to Chrissy Cunningham, who’s listening to Jeff ramble about DnD, and he sees red. He wants to get you back, he wants to use Chrissy to make you jealous. He knows it’ll work, he knows you well.

“He was so… soft, and gentle,” Chrissy tells you. You listen in disgust, she’s telling you about Eddie. Sex. With. Eddie. “It was so passionate, I hope this is not too much information but he seemed really lovey-dovey with me,” she says with a smile.

You only sarcastically smile at her, “that’s nice.” Leaving your lips.

You saw red. You were jealous of Chrissy touching your man. You were jealous of the way he treated her so softly, you were jealous of the way he cared so little about you but so deeply about Chrissy. You were jealous how he looked so admiringly at her. How he used you to get his dick wet and used Chrissy whenever he needed some love. You were jealous at how he was stealing your best friend.

Part 3 here

[oftenderweapons]

Meeting the Squad | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy), feat. BTS and their gfs

Wordcount: 4.8k

Genre: crack, fluff, angst

Rating: 18+

So, @scooby-galleta sent me this request a bit ago, and now, here it is!

hi miss Dita! hope you are doing great :) congratulations on reaching your first milestone!🎉 you are a really talented lady, and you deserve the world ❤️ now, I don't really know how the commissions and prompts works, so bare with me ok? 😅 OK, so you said to ask for something we would like to read, and you know how in jk's steamy waters it's mentioned the night he introduced candy to the guys? well, I really want to know more about that moment, like how was it, their thoughts and feelings during the meeting, all of that you know? and was it just the guys or the girls were there too? sorry if it's a little weird 😬 blame it on my love for your characters, and honestly? I live for the interactions they have with each other :) also, sorry for doing this through a submission, it got super long 😳 have a nice day/night! 💖

Trigger warnings: allusive jokes and comments, alcohol consumption, angst in form of TWO BIG LARGE FOOLS (one of them is actually not that large) REFUSING TO SAY THEY'RE HEAD OVER HEELS FOR EACH OTHER WITH ONE OF THEM BEING A VERY VERY STUPID DUMBASS KEEPING SECRETS. The maknae line is a flock of manaces and there's another pair of fools who is actually trying to deal with their issues. Guess who's who. TaexLace are intimidating and YoongixKitten are parental. The Soulmates are two gossips. NamjoonxVixen are full-time honeymooning (tho they aren't actually on their honeymoon).

almost forgot! This was beta read by my 2 favourite people, @nervous-moon and @joheunsaram. I love you, my bby 💜💜💜💖💖💖

here’s my masterlist! enjoy ✨💜

Entering the room was only mildly scary. And there were way more women than you thought.

“Everyone, this is ____, but you can just call her Candy.” Jeongguk said to the whole room, your eyes immediately meeting Jimin's kind and warm ones.

“Hi Candy!” he cheered, immediately friendly, and though you bowed to him, he opened his arms. “I wouldn't let a sister just bow. Come on.” And how could you deny him? His embrace was warm and welcoming, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Princess is around here somewhere…” he said with a large smile. “Welcome to the squad.”

You felt a blush creep to your cheeks as you thanked him, Jeongguk standing behind you, trying to be an anchor for you.

Seeing all seven of the wondrous BTS men in one single room was mind-blowing, but you got used to it pretty easily. While working for Big Hit, you had often caught glimpses of them, but your job was far from the guys' position and duties.

“Hello, I'm Kim Taehyung. Nice to meet you. And this is Lace, my girlfriend,” his introduction was brief and formal, the woman so alluring you had to blink a couple times to gather her opulent beauty, so full and vibrant that you struggled to understand it completely. “Nice to meet you too, guys,” you greeted them, picking up on their casual tone.

“Let's see if you can guess the couples. Some of them are easy, you have only four left to figure out,” Lace said, breaking the ice.

“How fun! Yes!” you agreed before observing the people in the room. “Okay, Yoongi and the girl beside him, drinking… maybe?” you mused, observing the way they talked quietly together.

Taehyung smiled and tutted. “Try again.”

“Of course, the one sitting, wearing black, talking with the bright coloured one, who should be Hoseok's girlfriend?”

Lace nodded, her face shaped in a lazy smile. “That's right. Only partly. That's just a very close friend of Hoseok. But they're probably dating. Don't tell him we know.”

You found yourself trying to hold back a snicker as you nodded. “So, the girl with Yoongi is probably Seokjin's and… The one helping Jin with the food is Namjoon's. Right?”

“Yes, that's right.” Lace’s enigmatic smile once more appeared, her hand naturally gravitating towards Taehyung’s waist. “We’re very happy to finally meet you. Jeongguk has told us quite a lot about you. He talks about you all the time,” Taehyung said, looking at the maknae with a proud expression. “We're glad to know he's in safe hands this time around.”

The compliment sank in slowly. Apparently you had passed Kim Taehyung's mythological vibe check. You were absolutely grateful for the door to the balcony opening, Namjoon and Hoseok emerging with two sets of beers. “Hey there!” the smaller one greeted you, already using informal speech since he knew you were born the same year as him.

“Hello!” you cheered back. Hoseok was easygoing from the very start. The way he introduced himself to you lively but not in an unsettling way. His friend greeted you next, her personality already manifesting itself with her strawberry blonde hair and the cute sprinkle of freckles peppering her nose. Plus, when she told you she works as a vet, she became your favourite human in the room.

After Jeongguk, of course.

“Nice to meet you,” spoke a deep voice from beside the fridge.

So it was actually true, Namjoon's voice was significantly lower in real life.

It was impressive. You were also impressed by his charisma, immediately understanding why he was the leader. However, that vibe of formality soon dissolved once a warm smile appeared on his face, turning him into the gentle giant Jeongguk always waxed poetic about. Watching the two of them hug felt very warm, like they were saying something to each other without even talking.

“Vixen? Come say hi,” Namjoon called, his hand moving slightly as if to invite her.

You had maybe never seen a woman so… so pretty. She was just. Pretty.

Her face spoke of gentleness and charm. “Hello,” she chirped, and no matter how small she looked beside her partner, she sounded like a queen.

“Uhm… Hello, hi, I'm _____.”

She smiled and you were slightly taken aback by it, your eyes running away, only to notice her hand in Namjoon’s. That felt endearing.

As the night progressed, you couldn’t help studying everyone as they moved across the living room.

Yoongi and Kitten were the exact opposite. They were sitting at different ends of the table and between them you could feel the reassuring solidity of a bond made of steel. They both greeted you, Kitten looking like someone who would take a while before speaking a word to you. Yoongi, although happy for his friend, also looked incredibly wary. Nothing like the exhilarating fireworks of the woman at his side — Angel — who seemed to be set on a very high average of oxytocin in her blood considering how bubbly and sparkly she was — but that was probably a side effect of being Kim Seokjin's girlfriend. Her expression got even brighter the moment he appeared behind her, placing a hand on her back, greeting you easily. Namjoon and Vixen seemed to be close all the time in a secret dance that oscillated between reassurance and attraction: even a fool would have noticed the insane chemistry between them. It was as if electricity was sizzling in the very air that divided them.

Watching all the interactions was fascinating and confusing at the same time: Hoseok and Giggles especially.

Jeongguk stared at them together with you. From what he had told you, Hoseok and him were the ones who had taken the longest to find a significant other — and formally, his hyung was still looking.

Jin had been the first and, quite apparently, he and his Angel were the kind of couple that didn't need much skinship to show their bond. From the way they talked to each other and looked at each other, you could feel so many things hidden, kept away from the public eye, from them sitting side by side at the table, moving in perfect synchrony, to the way their glances lingered on each other, Seokjin blushing and fussing each time Angel complimented his cooking — which was very often. He always said it was Namjoon's girlfriend's merit and moved on, still, he sported a proud smile on his face. Jeongguk looked at your face as you watched his friends around the table, his free hand touching your knee chastely, calling your attention.

You turned towards him, waiting for him to tell you something while all he did was smile, unknowingly becoming the object of Yoongi's attention.

The older man sat beside Jin and across from his girlfriend, who was instead sitting beside Jeongguk. It was a very complicated social network, where everyone seemed to have many things going on other than the insistent thanking for the food and complimenting culinary skills. Taehyung, for example, seemed to live in a different world from his girlfriend altogether — they had mentioned they had officially got together only a few weeks before and they were still settling. Still they seemed to radiate the same steady, pulsating magic, somewhat a fairy king and the most florid of nymphs. Across them, Giggles chuckled quietly, chatting with Kitten so comfortably that the two of them didn't quite make sense the same way Yoongi and Hoseok didn't, but at the same time, like their boyfriends, they seemed to be each other's favoured interlocutor. And then there was Jimin and Namjoon sitting at the shorter ends of the table. Jimin's Princess ate politely, in silence, mostly because like you she was busy scanning the table — and Hoseok most of all. You assumed it was because he was her boyfriend's roommate, and closest member.

You took your time before addressing your gaze to the other end of the table, where another kind of silence reigned.

Namjoon's compliments to his partner were quiet, barely hearable. She ate so elegantly, she looked so classy and poised, though from personal experience, you asked yourself what kind of undercurrents flowed under her crystalline looks. Her gaze was so sharp that once you met it, you averted your eyes, feeling your cheeks blush.

Though Jimin and Hoseok kept asking you questions, and you were eager to converse with them, Namjoon was kind enough to remind everyone you still needed to eat in peace.

“So, how was your trip, Vixen?” The question was casual, if not spoken a bit too brightly. The fact that it had come from Kitten made it even more curious.

The young woman seemed to brighten up all of a sudden. “It was amazing.” She fixed her hair casually, shyly, her whole face reddening, she turned to Namjoon and the glance between them was so intimate, so eloquent, his expression proud and happy.

“It really meant a lot to both of us. It was very relaxing after all the running and working for the tour,” Namjoon replied, looking at Kitten first, Yoongi next.

“We relaxed too, you know” Yoongi teased, stage whispering.

Watching Kitten bite her lip, you were glad for Jimin chirping in. “They're neighbours,” said the saccharine gossip.

You sucked in your lips while Jeongguk cackled mischievously. “You should go on holiday more often, hyung,” your boyfriend commented casually, his hand squeezing your knee unassumingly.

You looked at him, at his bright, boyish smile, at his cute cheeks. He was so in love with his people and you were so glad his quiet and timid persona had grown so splendidly in that environment.

“Well, after being apart for the tour, we all needed some quality time,” Lace admitted. She looked at Taehyung and once more, a veil of privacy seemed to cover her words as she reached his face and moved a lock of hair out of his face, the man basking in the softness of his lover.

“That's true,” you confirmed, searching for Jeongguk's hand to reassure him.

“Ouchie!” said a girly voice on the opposite end of the table. Giggles.

Hoseok was all over her in an instant, wrapping a tissue over her finger. “Clumsy berry,” he scolded her, his voice drenched in worry. “How did you even cut yourself.”

“I got distracted!” she whined back, Hoseok's lineaments becoming harsh in an instant before softening equally quickly.

Everyone was frozen in place, only Vixen standing up and expertly opening a cabinet to find a first aid kit.

“Thanks Vixen, but we should head to the bathroom so I can disinfect the cut.”

She smiled calmly as the other two stood up, Hoseok grabbing the kit and fussing over his… friend.

“Do we need to keep pretending he's not head over heels for her?” Vixen commented, finishing the last veggies on her plate, Namjoon eating her carrots while offering her his sliced cucumbers.

“I don't want to deal with the consequences of getting on his nerves,” Kitten admitted, Princess agreeing with a hum.

“He'll come around, at his own time,” Yoongi commented noncommittally.

Once they were back and all the food had been eaten, the team seemed to slip into comfortable little habits. “I'll do the dishes,” Namjoon informed, his girlfriend following him like a shadow.

“Let me help,” Angel exclaimed, wearing an apron as Vixen leaned against the counter, grabbing a cloth.

You were a bit confused, but you didn't have much time for that as the infamous soulmates dragged you and your boyfriend to the living room.

“Have you seen the rings? That vacation was definitely more than what they told us,” Jimin conspired. “Do you think they eloped?”

“Vixen would never,” Lace replied with surety.

“But she's been a bit off lately. Maybe they're expecting,” Taehyung suggested.

Lace and Princess shook their heads in unison. “Nah,” the latter excluded, looking at the scene by the kitchen sink.

“Angel and Jin are very different from last time,” Jeongguk noticed, Jimin blinking rapidly, knowing that what he knew shouldn't absolutely be shared.

“Maybe the alone time helped them too.”

Jeongguk hummed, thinking. “It's like… There's tension.”

You looked at how Jin kept chatting with his friends while keeping an eye on the figure by the counter. He was in love for sure, but there was also longing. A longing that shouldn't be half as painful considering the fact that the woman he was pining for was his girlfriend and loved him quite evidently — almost eclatantly so.

“I know I've never seen them before but I agree with you, there's tension,” you spoke softly, only needing for Jeongguk to hear.

“Angel is tense. Work and family keep squeezing her up, and she's tired. And Jin coming back didn't help. There's been rough days lately,” Princess informed.

“Isn't hyung helping?” Jeongguk asked, extremely concerned. He knew Angel was the perfect woman for Seokjin. But maybe he wasn't the perfect man?

“Help needs to be wanted in order to work, Kook,” Princess said with a heavy tone. “Maybe his help is not what she needs.”

Kitten and Yoongi reached the living room shortly after. As soon as he sat down, he spoke, “If anyone else needs to pick a ring, please don’t ask me for help.”

“Is he getting married?” Hoseok asked, joining the conversation as soon as he arrived.

“Hopefully,” Seokjin mused. “Vixen's been a blessing to him. Of course he would want to put a ring on it as soon as possible. Though it's very soon, I'll concede.”

Giggles sat far away from Hoseok, his eyes following her before a frown obscured his fine visage.

Yoongi nodded. “He knows what he's doing. Like he always has.” Kitten brought some beer and soju bottles on the table, Yoongi patting the empty seat beside him and her following his invitation immediately. He continued, “He believes in it. Like he believed in all of us.”

Jeongguk's arm snaked behind your shoulders and pulled you into him slightly before speaking, “One time he told me being with her is like laying on the grass in a park on a sunny day. He has no worries at her side.” You smiled at the image. It was a very Namjoon thing to say.

“Are you doing better, Giggles?” Lace asked after a couple seconds of silence, the conversation shifting to another topic.

“Yes, I just realised while you were all suffering for the tour, I hadn't even met Hoseok yet.” Her embarrassed look made you realise she was the kind of girl you could turn into one of your cartoon characters.

“Well, they're abroad this September for a few days, so you're going to experience their unexpected trips,” Princess spoke distractedly, toying with her necklace.

Giggles' face fell. “Oh.” She seemed to lock herself away further.

Hoseok internally cringed. That was his thing to tell. “There's a bunch of interviews mixed with recording and shooting new content.”

“You don't need to tell me.” You could tell she was being a little hostile.

“I need some fresh air. Giggles, would you like to come with?” Vixen asked by the living room door. The other woman stood, Hoseok slightly conflicted as he watched them head to the balcony.

“You're crazy,” Lace spoke, Taehyung placing a protective hand on her leg, Hoseok still too shaken by the rollercoaster of emotions that the whole night had been so far. “Weren't you going to tell her?”

“I was going to!” he objected, standing up, freezing, then starting to pace.

Namjoon and Angel arrived just in time, Namjoon easily solving the crisis. “She's in good hands,” he spoke, reassuringly rubbing his friend's shoulder. “But I think you should reconsider how you feel for her.”

He nodded and sat back down, Angel squeezing in beside Jin, by the corner, the man placing his arm along the back of the sofa while she placed her head on his shoulder, Seokjin blushing only lightly at such a display of affection in that semi-private environment.

Namjoon immediately noticed there wasn't much room left, opting to sit on the floor and leave some space beside Lace, where Giggles would feel safe.

“So, you're a graphic designer and you worked for Big Hit?” he asked, his question very appreciated on your behalf. It was way more inclusive and unobtrusive than anything you had expected.

“Exactly,” you replied, kindly, politely.

“She also makes comics!” Jeongguk added enthusiastically. “Her main character is a bunny, can you believe that!?” He was so excited that you only blushed and laughed at his enthusiasm. He turned to look at your happy expression, taking in the sound of your laugh. “She's perfect, isn't she?” he murmured, suddenly so entirely enamoured with you.

Yoongi and Seokjin exchanged a knowing glance before looking at the maknae with a fond expression. Behind closed doors the older men had always discussed their worries about Jeongguk's character, noticing how his desperate need for a companion had led him to search for love in dark places. Seeing you glow at his side calmed them both, and watching Jeongguk's extremely private nature bloom in your company was their biggest relief.

“I just draw little illustrations and post them online. No biggie,” you replied shyly, trying to dismiss Jeongguk's exaggeration.

“Oh, I need to follow you then!” Hoseok exclaimed, trying to stay in the conversation even though his gaze kept tumbling towards the way to the balcony.

You smiled at him and waved your hand. “Really, no need!”

Namjoon already had his phone out. “Drop the at, miss.”

You confessed it with a blush on your cheeks, your voice barely audible. “Thank you, guys,” you murmured as most of them typed in your username, Taehyung and Jimin exclaiming 'cute!' in unison as they found your page.

“In this house we support art,” Namjoon stated solemnly, smiling at you with warm eyes.

“I heard art!” said a voice from the kitchen, a curious expression on Vixen's face as she appeared on the doorway.

“Candy said she's a graphic designer and an illustrator,” Lace explained, her nose twitching a little as she sniffed at Taehyung. “You changed your cologne,” she whispered, her tone analytical.

“You said you like cedarwood,” he replied, Vixen picking up the conversation where Lace dropped it.

“That sounds so fun! Is there any kind of project you particularly enjoy?” she asked, smiling timidly as she noticed your eyes looking down, where Namjoon's hand grazed her calf.

“I really like doing mockups for websites. Different businesses mean different concepts so you never get bored,” you explained as she nodded, her hand subtly caressing Namjoon's hair as he leaned on her. They had to be in full honeymoon phase.

“I understand. That sounds very exciting. I guess it's the same reason why I love boutique hotels and luxury apartment buildings,” she confessed with a cheerful tone. You were a bit confused by her statement before Princess clarified, “she's an interior designer and art dealer.”

Your mouth went agape as you nodded. That made sense now. Even though you were still positive about her having a side job as a model. Though she wasn't the only one who could end up on a magazine even in their current homely attire.

Your sixth sense told you Kitten could easily strut down a catwalk and have everyone pining for her. Not to mention Princess.

“That sounds so interesting, really. As an artist it must be pretty fascinating to see things from the other side.” Her elegance seemed a little less intimidating now that you knew she was a fellow art lover.

“Oh, I spent many years living among artists and I must tell you your people are way more fascinating than mine!” Vixen seemed to get warmer and warmer as other conversations started developing around the two of you, Jeongguk and Namjoon observing your exchange in silence, smiling at each other as you got to know each other more, getting along perfectly.

“Well, now I know who to call if I have to design a nursery. Or if they ask me for an illustrator!” Vixen said with a chirpy laugh before promising you a courtesy ticket to her next exhibit.

Once your conversation concluded, Jeongguk and you looked at each other before he leaned his forehead against the top of your head.

“So, how is he doing, Candy?” Jimin asked, his voice tauntingly mischievous.

You chuckled. “He's not doing bad. At all. His fear of microwaves is slightly unnerving but very endearing. I can live with that,” you quipped, eliciting a reboant laugh from Taehyung.

“Really Guk? Still with the microwave?” he teased.

“I just prefer staying away. They're not that healthy anyways,” he considered. “I'm sure you have pet peeves too,” Jeongguk quipped, Princess getting the cue immediately.

“Oh, he has. He only washes the dishes with the gloves on because 'my hands are too delicate',” she said, imitating Jimin's voice and accent. “And the dirt on the dishes makes him queasy.”

“That's not true!” he scoffed, looking at his girlfriend with a pout.

“That is true,” Taehyung confirmed. “And you're a spoiled brat who likes to sleep in.”

Jeongguk stood and grabbed a drink, passing one to Namjoon and Seokjin too before he moved behind the sofa, placing a hand on your shoulder right before you laid your palm on top of it, touching your fingers.

“You always sleep in too!” Jimin contested, Lace nodding silently while her boyfriend stared at her with wide puppy eyes full of youth and adoration. From the way Taehyung looked at her you were sure you could safely bet your life on him treating her like his goddess. “I have such a beautiful girlfriend, I don't see why I shouldn't sleep beside her as long as I can.”

Jeongguk squeezed your hand, making you look at him. “Lovey dovey,” he whispered, making fun of his friend.

You shook your head before smiling mischievously. If he made fun of his friend it was only right for things to be even. “Well, Jeongguk still wakes up super early to work out—” He wore a threatening face before you turned to the guys. “But he always showers and comes back to bed because he says wants to watch me wake up.”

Jimin bent over, hand on your knee as he tried to hold himself from falling over with his uncontrollable laughter, while Taehyung simply stared at you with an amused look on his face. He knew Jeongguk was incredibly romantic, almost sappy, but you confirming it made his day — and also made him look at you with even more familiarity and affection; if you managed to make Kook happy, then he was happy too, and if you lovingly embraced his tender side and welcomed his gallant courting, then Taehyung couldn't expect anyone better for his friend. Plus, you playing along in the friendship dynamics was really something.

Nothing like his ex for sure.

“Don't be bothered by them. That's very sweet, Jeongguk. There are plenty of women out there who wish to have something like what you give to Candy,” Princess said tactfully, ever the balanced, soothing presence.

You picked your head up, tipping it back as you looked at him, sneakily mouthing an 'I love you' that made him blush to his ears and made you smile gently.

As your gaze fell once more to the people on the sofa, you noticed Yoongi and Kitten quietly chatting with Giggles, talking about her experience in the city since she had started working there only a couple months earlier. She was sitting beside Lace, just as Namjoon's move had hinted. Her face was adorably flushed and though her previous stressful situation, now she looked significantly more relaxed, mostly because of the couple's anchoring presence.

Out of all the couples in the room, they seemed extremely parental, so calm and composed, almost as if they were emanating reliability from their very pores. You simply listened to them for a while, studying their mannerism: Yoongi, apparently unaffected, chatted with his friend's crush while Kitten's arm, curved behind the sofa, allowed her hand to draw patterns on Yoongi's fresh undercut, where his hair had to be soft and short, like velvet under the touch.

However, your observation was cut short by Jimin calling you back into the conversation, which proceeded deep into the night, until half past midnight, when Vixen's intense yawning caused Namjoon to insist on them going home.

“I can lay down in your room, I don't want you to miss out,” she replied meekly, staring at her boyfriend with bambi eyes that reminded you of Jeongguk's most efficient persuasion techniques.

“I think we all need some sleep, right?” Yoongi added, since — contrary to you — he knew that Kitten petting his hair meant that she was sleepy.

“Uhm… Lace, are you taking the bus?” Giggles asked quietly, knowing that the woman was probably the only one headed in her same direction.

“I'll drive you home,” Taehyung reassured Giggles before Hoseok jumped in. “I'll drive you.”

Seokjin placed a hand on Hoseok's knee. “Let Taehyung drive her.”

Giggles looked visibly uncomfortable for a minute. “No… it's— it's okay, thank you Seokjin. I guess I'll just drive with Hoseok if he doesn't mind.”

He looked like the sun appearing from behind a cloud. “I don't mind at all.” His face was so relieved as it beamed up.

“Anyone staying in the dorms?” Yoongi asked, especially glancing at Namjoon, Vixen's eyes closed as her head leaned on his shoulder. “She's exhausted. I think we'll just crash here.”

Yoongi agreed with sympathy, Jimin and Hoseok obviously communicating with their eyes. They were the only ones who still shared a room.

“I'll head home after I drive her,” the older said.

“You're staying at mine, right?” Yoongi asked Kitten before she nodded sleepily. He smiled fondly. Now everyone seemed to look at Jeongguk. And you.

“No, I'm staying at mine tonight,” he informed, helping you up from the sofa.

“Good. Only Namjoon at the dorms. We're meeting here tomorrow to prepare for the interviews, right?” Seokjin questioned, reminding everyone of their unusual schedule.

“What time is it again?” saidTaehyung just as Jimin complained, “Not in the morning, please!”

“Tomorrow at two pm sharp. Please, let's be punctual since we all have people at home waiting for us,” Namjoon reminded everyone, his hand wandering to Vixen's smaller one.

“Okay, boss!” Jeongguk joked, everyone stirring into motion.

Yoongi and Kitten were the first to leave, saying bye to everyone as they left hand in hand, him wearing a bucket hat and her disappearing in a hoodie before joining him in the chilly summer night. Next were Seokjin and Angel, his lower face hidden behind a face mask while she carefully donned a silk scarf around her head.

Everyone seemed so skilled at concealing themselves and you realised that had become part of your life too as you pushed the hem of your hood down your face before saying goodbye to Vixen and Namjoon. You had almost wanted to hug her, but she was safely locked in Namjoon's embrace, his arms around her waist and her head slotted under his chin.

Everyone else left together with you and Jeongguk, Taehyung and Lace waving at you in the parking lot while you climbed into your boyfriend's car.

“We’re sleeping together tonight, right?” he asked, his voice frail.

“Yes, baby,” you confirmed before placing your hand on his leg.

He smiled at you. “Then let's go for a drive. I don't want them seeing me taking you to mine.”

You froze a little, confused. “Why…”

“They'll tease me non-stop. I don't care too much about that, I just care about you.” Jeongguk caught your hand and kissed it, your fear immediately dissipated. It was childish, but it was also extremely in style with his friends. “Also, in case anyone follows us from the dorms. Unwanted people.”

You agreed with a nod and let him drive you through a quick trip around his neighbourhood, enjoying the city lights and his exquisite playlist.

Once in the parking lot, he switched off the engine, waiting a couple minutes. He was almost ready to kill the lights when he spotted two figures in the dark.

“Get down,” he said, his voice protective, his hand on your head as you balled up in the space before the seat.

“Wait.” Jeongguk squinted at the two people, immediately recognising a sweater. As they turned and shifted, Jeongguk switched off the car.

“Fuck, we were right.”

“Kook?” you called, afraid.

“You can come up, baby. Come look.”

As you sat back up, you gasped. “Oh my god.”

You recognised a cascade of strawberry blonde hair, and a very colorful striped shirt. You had been staring at it most of the night.

Right before your eyes, under the cold neon lights of the parking lot Jung Hoseok was making out with his "friend", Giggles, and that hand was most definitely not looking for his keys as he pushed it up her shirt.

[ask-2p-hetaliaaa]

What would the 2ps do as youtubers?

2ps as youtubers:

Allen: Would be one of those fake ghost hunters that makes it onto Nuke's Top 5s.

"GUYS, GUYS, OHHH MYYY GODDD GUYYSSS,..... I THINK THAT WAS THE GHOOOSSTTT?? *pans to matt in a white sheet*"

Matt: Would upload funny out-of-context 5 second clips of his friends every 7 months. Gained popularity as a "top ironic humor figure"

Francois: His whole gimmick is staring into the camera for minutes on end without talking. People use him in reaction memes.

Oliver: Makes cooking videos, but in the style of Ted Nivision and twomad thanks to Allen's help with editing. Sometimes he swears in his videos, and when he does, his loyal following goes INSANE in the comments

Viktor: Makes audiobooks that peoples use as asmr to sleep. People who like Russian accents often flock to his videos as well

Xiao: Makes weed and vape reviews and 'hot boxes'; he collabs with matty smokes.

"WE'RE ABOUT TO HIT A FUCKIN OVER 9000 UHHHH DECIMIBITEABLES PUFF *coughing and gagging in mandarin*"

Luciano: Makes reviews of movies and games that have mafias and gangs. Is absolutely brutal in these critiques.

Flavio: Does makeup tutorials, fashion showcases, shopping vlogs, etc. Would basically be like the Lunch Club if it were full of drag queens

Lutz: Makes really obnoxious yet entertaining vlogs doing stupid shit around his country. Says offensive shit in a joking way that everyone is fine with. Has probably held illegal meetups in a mcdonalds

Kuro: "extreme japanese apoligizing" - makes videos along the lines of that, basically clowning on his own culture. occasionally makes anime reviews.

Gillen: Makes gaming videos out of his twitch streams. Sometimes Roland will just be walking in the background and go "Hi!!" and the chat will not shut up about him for next 2 minutes

Roland: He's like Sam O Nella Academy but Austrian- He'll mainly make parody videos of ww1 and ww2 because we all know the funny ww1 and 2 austria jokes. Since he can play guitar, he adds bits inspired by bill wurtz that are just jingles, ends up being used in memes

Andres: Uploads pirated, obscure Spanish music with blank descriptions and no other context

Egil: twomad videos, basically. everything he posts feels like adhd personified, at random points the video will go 200x speed and back to normal its chaotic

Loki: Is a prank channel, but actually funny because his pranks are "lets set shit on fire until the police get involved"

Denmark: His gimmick is making fun of Francois and trying to beat him in subscribers, but Francois doesn't even know he has a channel. People meme in a bad way like "look at this dumbass"

Bernard: Makes commentary videos like Memeulous and James Marriott, has an ongoing joke of making fun of the 1ps (in a friendly way). at random points a picture of Berwald will pop up with the vine boom sound effect

Thurston: Screams into his camera about things that make him mad, a bunch of teenage girls stan him because they think he's hot and relatable. He then made a video screaming about how much he hates his fanbase, which didn't help at all. It only attracted Bernard's fans who clowned on him

Hermes: Makes videos explaining the lore of Greek Mythology, in a girl-talk sort of way. He tried making true crime videos but kept putting his opinions in which nearly got him canceled.

Caligula: Too old to use youtube. Only has an account to like Luciano's videos.

Germania: Also too old to use youtube. But he does comment on the germanic countries videos with things like "LETS FUCKING GOOO"; has become the Justin Y. of 2p comment sections

Leonas and Franciszek: Have a couples channel that people HATE because they act so fake that it's dreadfully annoying. Has had videos made about them by Bernard, Lutz and Flavio

Anastasia: Makes videos about self-care for both men and women, similar to channels like Sexplanations. Also makes videos teaching young adults to cook simple meals, how to do unique hairstyles using wigs of different lengths and textures, how to have a clean house (making beds, doing laundry, organizing cabinets and fridges), etc. Has a large following of people who genuinely appreciate her work and motivation

Katya: Uploads vertical phone videos of her at casinos drinking champagne, playing darts, winning slot machines, etc

Egor: Similar to SomeOrdinaryGamers. Browses the deep web on his AmogOS system he made.

Raimonds: Viktor doesn't allow him to have a youtube channel

Paul: Takes videos of him rolling down hills and making fun of people at his school. Luckily doesn't gain much traction because people would definitely cyber bully him. Most of the adult 2ps have an agreement to not mention him in their videos lest their followers go after him

Wy: Takes behind the scenes videos of Oliver's videos; Her following is basically just Oliver's following who think she's his daughter (she's not) (This rumor caused a huge scandal within the Ollie simping twitter community)

Romeo: Doesn't have youtube, has TikTok and makes shitty e-boy thirst traps and POVs. Bernard wears his merch as satire in his videos.

[irishseeeker]

                                  rules don’t apply 

Having a crush on your boss is embarrassing. Inappropriate. Wrong. Especially when your boss is Anthony Bridgerton, the most insufferable man on the planet whom you actively despise.

What does Kate have to say on the matter?

…No comment.

–

read chapter 1 here or here

read chapter 2 here or  here

read chapter 3: here or here

read chapter 4 here or here 

---

chapter 5: an (unadvised, unprofessional, unconventional) agreement

---

“I’m worried about you.”

Kate paused, the large scoop of green tea ice cream inches anyway from her mouth. Edwina and Kate had gone straight to Marys after an eventful brunch at the Bridgertons, spending the rest of the evening at hers and eating dinner. Since Edwina had told Mary the events of the morning and afternoon, Mary hadn’t stopped giving Kate the look.

Kate knew the impending inquisition was lurking all evening.

Mary had never been a parent to give out to her children. Kate couldn’t even remember a time Mary had raised her voice at Edwina or Kate. Mary took the disappointed route.

That was much worse. Her father used to shout at her and be done with it, Mary would sigh loudly, shake her head and eventually come out with, “I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed.”

So when there was something amiss or something she wanted to talk about, Mary would sigh, cast those pointed looks at Kate or Edwina until she eventually came out with what was on her mind when she had one of them cornered.

She had given Kate the talk when she was in the bath.

Like right now, when Kate was sitting in the living room distracted by ice cream and Edwina had gone to take a second shower because she was convinced she still stunk of pond water.

“Mary,” Kate started slowly, putting her spoon back into the ice cream tub. “I’m fine.”

“Kate, I worry you work too hard. You’ve always worked so hard and you know how incredibly proud I am of you,” Mary said, pausing to reach over to pat Kate’s hand. “I’m worried you’re not putting yourself out there more. I want you to enjoy your life.”

Kate felt something inside of her chest sting a little. She took a deep breath, trying not to let the anger bubbling inside of her takeover. Kate knew Mary was coming from a good place. She did. She wanted what was best for her. This wasn’t the first time she had been worried about Kate’s social life.

It was difficult sometimes, having a sister like Edwina. Kate hated herself for thinking it, she loved Ed more than anything in this world. Ed was her best friend.

It was just exhausting constantly being compared to her. Edwina had always flocks of friends throughout her entire life, whereas Kate had them, there just wasn’t many of them. It had been hard to keep up with her friends from school when she went to university. She had made lovely ones in university, but then they had all moved to different places when university ended. They chatted often and met up every few months, but it wasn’t the same as it had been when they’d seen each other everyday.

Then there was the boyfriends.

Well, boyfriend.

Kate had only introduced one boyfriend to Mary and Edwina. He had been the only guy she could introduce them to. Edwina had always had boyfriends or boys who wanted to be hers. Why wouldn’t they? She was beautiful and she was Edwina.

Kate was...Kate.

It was her only relationship in her twenty-nine years of (pitiful) existence. His name was Mark and they had dated for a year in university when Kate was twenty-one. They had broken up when university ended, Mark moved to Edinburgh and Kate to London. Long distance wasn’t something they were interested in. Breaking up had been the practical thing to do.

It still hurt, not because of him but because the one relationship she had ended because it was the practical thing to do.

She hadn’t dated on and off since then, but work got busier and busier and nothing ever was serious. Kate was better on her own. It was easier that way.

“I am enjoying my life,” Kate said, abandoning the ice cream entirely. She wasn’t in the mood anymore. “I work hard because I love my job and I want to be successful. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy my life, Mary. Just because I’m not like Edwina doesn’t mean I’m not okay.”

Mary let out a deep sigh. This wasn’t the first time one of their conversations had led to this point. “That’s not what I meant, Kate. This has nothing to do with Edwina. This is you we’re talking about. When was the last time you went out with your friends? Or on a date?”

“Ah,” Kate said, everything clicking into place. It always came back to her non-existent dating life. “So this is an interrogation about my dating life.”

“Is it such a crime to be interested in my daughter’s life?” Mary’s tone sharpened slightly and Kate felt a tiny bit guilty. “Do you remember my friend Bernadette? She came into the cafe the other day. She has a lovely son your age who happens to be single.”

Kate’s head fell back, groaning loudly as the guilt she had been feeling quickly faded into stress. Not this again. “Mary. No.”

“Why not? He’s a solicitor! He’s very handsome,” Mary said, picking up her phone and glasses before tapping on the screen with her index finger slowly. “Bernadette showed me a picture. Here, look.”

“I don’t need my mother setting me up, that’s why!” Kate’s eyes flicked towards the door, praying Edwina would appear any moment to put this excruciating conversation to a stop. Well, actually Edwina would probably join in. Her family had a lot to say about her non-existence dating life. “My dating life is private and it’s going perfectly fine.”

“I would understand you not wanting to meet someone else,” Mary had a very suspicious look on her face and she looked slightly amused, tilting her chin up in the air with a small smirk. It made Kate uneasy. “I suppose, it would make sense. If there was something going on between you and Anthony Bridgerton.”

Kate gasped. Her head was still swirling from the events of the day and the fact that he had said I didn’t do it for them, Kate. She hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind since. “Mary! He’s my boss.”

“He’s also a man,” Mary replied quickly. “An attractive man that you have not stopped talking about since you started working there. A nice man. He’s also a man who ended up in a pond with you today and had you over for brunch.”

Kate spluttered, trying to find something comprehensive to say. What could she say? She wasn’t about to admit to her mother about the strange feelings she was having for her boss, a man she had actively loathed for so long it had become a hobby. “His mother invited us to stay for brunch. Believe me, he did not want me there.”

“Are you sure?”

Mary’s question lingered in the air.

The anxiety and uneasiness simmered in Kate’s stomach. It hadn’t left her since she had left the Bridgeton's. Well, since she arrived at the Bridgertons door covered in pond water and had brunch with his family. Since he walked her out and said those words. “I didn’t jump into that pond for Edwina or Newton, Kate.”

Was Kate sure?

She had absolutely no idea.

Kate didn’t know what to expect the following Monday morning at work.

She should have expected that she would spend her day arguing with Anthony Bridgerton.

Kate had woken up feeling uneasy. She felt nervous. She woke up at seven am, an uncomfortable feeling sitting in her stomach. It remained there as she showered, washing her hair with her fancy overpriced shampoo and conditioner that was only meant for special occasions.

Today wasn’t a special occasion. It was a Monday.

She blow dried her hair, putting a few extra minutes into styling her hair and straightening her usual curls. She even spent ten minutes torturing herself by putting on eyeliner. What was she doing? Why was she putting a significant amount of effort into how she looked? Why did it feel like she was compensating for something?

This wasn’t her.

It was just another normal day at work.

But it wasn’t.

Most of the people at work would have seen the article that came out over the weekend. Most of them, London really, read Whistledown. They would have seen the pictures of Kate and Anthony. They’d be presuming things. They would also be wondering what the hell was someone like Anthony Bridgerton doing with someone like Kate?

Men like Anthony Bridgerton didn’t go for women like Kate.

She didn’t need to be reminded of it.

Kate wanted to disappear. She didn’t want to go into work. She debated taking a sick day, which she hadn’t taken once willingly during her entire time working at Bridgerton & Family. Kate had been forced to leave work once after she fainted presenting during a meeting. It had been last summer during London’s heatwave and it was a day full of budget deadlines and presenting them to the board.

Kate had been working so hard in the last year to be eligible for a promotion. That finance manager role was hers.

Kate just needed to prove it.

She would have stayed presenting if it wasn’t for Anthony Bridgerton and his saviour complex.

Anthony had forced her to go home after she insisted she was fine, even going as far as calling Mary, who she had down as her emergency contact at work, to take her home. Kate couldn’t escape Mary’s clutches after that. Mary would have dragged her out of that office herself if she had to.

Mary had loved Anthony since then, of course.

Kate just found him more irritating.

Kate stood in front of her closet, glancing between her usual pant suits, tops and skirts and a few dresses she never really had the nerve to wear. A few of them had been gifts that Edwina had gotten for free from shows that didn’t fit her and some had been impulse buys Kate had loved but hadn’t worn yet.

She always managed to convince herself out of wearing them. It was too tight or she was too bloated or her arms looked strange. Her self-consciousness won every time. Edwina wouldn’t think twice about wearing what she wanted. Kate wanted to be the girl who wore what she wanted. She always went with the safer option, a simple shirt, top or skirt.

That wasn’t going to be today.

She needed a lot of nerve today. She picked out a long sleeved black ribbed dress she had bought on a whim a few weeks ago, that was tight around her waist and had a sweetheart neckline with a pair of black heels.

Kate kissed Newton goodbye and left her flat before she could change her mind. She kept her eyes glued to her phone as she arrived at work, checking her endless emails and calendar for the day as she got the elevator up to her floor and walked to her office. When she glanced around, she could hear their whispers and see people snapping their heads away from her, previously staring at her.

Deep breaths, Kate.

Thank god she had already texted Sophie to cancel her meetings for the morning.

She smiled at Sophie as she walked past her desk, relief filling her chest to see a friend. “Morning, Soph.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

Kate stopped dead in her tracks, turning to glare at her assistant, who was cackling behind her computer screen. “That’s not funny.”

Sophie leaned back in her chair, the smirk still plastered on her face as she looked Kate up and down. “You look hot.”

“Thank you.” Kate fiddled with the material of her dress, smoothening it out and breathing deeply out of her nose. She didn’t need to hide behind her coat and feel self-conscious. She was bloody Kate Sheffield.

Fuck what anybody else or some gossip column had to say.

She was hot. She was qualified. She was important. She could do this.

“Dressing up for anyone special?”

Kate’s confidence dissolved into annoyance as she narrowed her eyes at Sophie, shaking her head. “Is there something you’d like to say, Sophie?”

“I don’t think there’s anything I could say that Lady Whistledown already hasn’t implied.” Sophie said, the smirk spreading further across her face.

Kate scowled. “You’re a pain in the arse.”

“You love it. Oh, Good morning Mr. Bridgerton!”

Kate gasped, turning around so quickly her arm whacked Sophie’s stapler right off her desk and onto the floor. When the doorway was empty, she turned to glare at Sophie. Shit. She needed to relax. She would inevitably see him today-he owned the bloody company. Kate would just avoid him, and the meeting he would definitely be at, until she didn’t have a choice.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Sophie said, biting her lip to minimize her grin as she looked at her computer screen. “I’ll shut up now.”

Kate, desperate for Sophie’s cackling to end and a swift change of topic, remembered what happened at the gala. “Benedict Bridgerton asked me about you at the gala.”

That wiped the smirk off her face. “What?”

“He asked about you at the charity gala I went to with Edwina,” Kate said, sitting on the edge of her desk. “He seems interested. He couldn’t stop gawking at you in Anthony’s office and you couldn’t stop blushing.”

“I was not blushing,” Sophie murmured, avoiding Kate’s eyes as she tidied away some paperwork on her desk. “It wouldn’t work, anyway.”

Kate frowned, not expecting that answer from her friend, who was certainly making googly eyes back at Benedict. “Why not?”

Sophie smiled at her sweetly, also wanting to change the topic. “I think there’s only room for one romance with a Bridgerton out of the two of us.”

“That’s not funny,” Kate said dryly, knowing there wasn’t a chance she was telling Sophie about what happened at the park if this was the level of teasing she was getting from the article alone. “Or accurate-”

“Hello, Ladies.”

There was only one presence so unsettling, it made the hairs on Kate’s arm stand up and identical grimaces and frowns form on Sophie and Kate’s faces.

It belonged to a man that had enough grease in his hair than an English breakfast, a pungent stink that clung to your clothes when you were in his presence for more than five minutes and a yellowish tint to a chilling smile.

Nigel Berbrooke was the type of man women avoided at all costs.

That was difficult when you were stuck in the office next to his.

He stared down their tops and at their legs, had to touch their waists and arms every time he greeted them or moved past them, made comments about how surprising it was that there were so many women in the workplace considering their biological clocks were running out and regularly ranked them by attractiveness. The only reason he was here was because of good old nepotism and his father’s place on the company’s board.

He was a sexist, dimwitted, misogynistic pig.

Out of all the people her office had to get stuck beside, it had to be Nigel Berbrooke.

It was the very reason Kate knew someone out there was out to get her.

Their floor was covered in desks but for those who had their own offices, as small as hers may be, it was still an office and it was attached to another one. You shared an assistant with your neighbour. There were a good few offices on their floor, the larger ones detached and separate from the rest.

Kate knew it wasn’t under Anthony’s authority to relegate offices but she liked to blame him for it anyway.

It had been two years since Kate had gotten her promotion to finance manager and she had been given her own office. That’s when she met Sophie, the first assistant she’d ever had-who unfortunately, Kate had to share with Nigel Berbrooke. He had been promoted at the same time.

Kate had her eyes on that senior manager promotion that had been announced a few weeks ago and when she got it, she would be taking Sophie with her, far away from the unsettling presence of Nigel Berbrooke. They were both in the running for the promotion, both having the same management experience except Kate’s clientele and numbers were higher and better than Nigel's. She deserved it. There wasn’t a chance he was beating Kate.

That didn’t mean much. His father was involved in those types of decisions and he had a lot of influence on the board. Kate didn’t have anyone on the board vouching for her and the one person who could, Anthony, her boss-despised her.

“Kate,” He greeted, his beady eyes alarmingly wide as he leered at her. She had never hated the sound of her name more. “Are you not joining us for the meeting?”

Kate shook her head, silently exchanging an apology with Sophie who was doomed to walk across the floor with Nigel to the meeting room to take notes. “I have a client call.”

“Such a shame,” His patronizing tone as he clicked his tongue. “I do try to have my calls around meetings but we all can’t be as efficient as I am.” The bark of laughter that followed afterwards made Kate and Sophie simultaneously jump. “I suppose being organized it’s a man’s natural intuition, eh?”

Kate wasn’t in the mood. Clients didn’t want to talk to Nigel because he was, well, Nigel. “I’d hardly call you a man, Nigel.”

Sophie’s muffled snort was hard to disguise behind her hand. She wasn’t exactly trying, either. Nigel spent more time at her desk than his. Kate insisted Sophie spend as much time in her office as possible working and Kate spent any spare time with Sophie, keeping him away.

His false smile fell momentarily, staring at her in disbelief. He chose to laugh it off, “Oh, no need to be so sensitive, Kate. Did I catch you at that time of the month?”

“We better go, Mr. Berbrooke. It’s time for the team meeting.” Sophie interrupted swiftly, standing up and directing him in the direction of the meeting room before Kate committed murder on the fifth floor. Kate made a mental note to go to the bakery around the corner and grab them doughnuts for lunch.

Kate spent her morning sorting through her mountain of emails, calling a few clients, checking in on a few budgets and reviewing Anthony’s hotel proposal again. She was making edits to it, extreme edits-trying to find some type of compromise and solution.

Anthony.

When did she start calling him Anthony?

Well, she had always called him Anthony. It was his name. It had never felt right, it had always left a sour taste in her mouth. Now, it felt..normal. Right.

It shouldn’t.

The buzzer from Sophie knocked her out of her scrambled thoughts. “Kate. Violet Bridgerton is on the phone. She wants to know your dietary requirements for Kent?”

Kate’s stomach dropped, internally panicking. Kent? It took her a few seconds to remember. That party Violet had mentioned. At their family house. In Kent. Bloody hell, there were too many Bridgertons to avoid before 11am. She pressed “Please tell her I’m sorry and I’m in a meeting. I’ll call her back as soon as I can but it’s unlikely I’ll be able to make Kent. Thanks Soph.”

Kate banged her head against the desk, groaning loudly. This time, a beep from her computer made her lift her head off her desk.

Her chat popped up.

Anthony Bridgerton: Why weren’t you at the meeting?

Her heart stopped then began beating rapidly, echoing in her ears. Kate sat up straighter, her fingers lingering over her keyboard as she thought of a reply. He had never messaged her, he had emailed-usually to complain or with a snotty message-but he had never chatted with her before.

Kate Sheffield:Good morning to you too, Mr. Bridgerton.

Anthony Bridgerton:Anthony.

Anthony Bridgerton: Good morning.

Kate Sheffield: Something came up, I had to make a few calls. Did you not get my message?

Anthony Bridgerton: I did.

Kate: Sophie ran through the minutes with me and everything seemed to be in order. Was there something you needed?

“Kate?” Sophie's voice rang through the intercom, snapping Kate out of her intense staring competition with her computer screen as she watched the three dots beside his name bounce up and down, waiting for his reply.

“Yeah Soph?”

“You’re wanted in HR.”

Kate felt her stomach drop. Not today. Please, not today. "Oh god. Is it-"

"Yup. Agatha Danbury."

Someone was truly out to get her. "Bloody hell."

Nothing good came from a meeting with Agatha Danbury. The famous head of Human Resources who knew everything about everyone and it usually wasn’t good.

Kate admired her but she was equally terrified of her. “Did she say why?”

“No but she asked if you could come down now. Well, asked is putting it lightly. More like demanded.”

Sophie saluted her as Kate stepped out of her office and made her way to the lift, stepping into it, clicking the button for the second floor.

“Hold it.” A voice shouted, Kate quickly holding her hand out to stop the doors from closing and gulped when she realized seconds later who it was, coming face to face with Anthony Bridgerton.

“Kate.”

Kate visibly gulped, quickly breaking their uncomfortable eye contact and pressing the close the doors button. “Mr. Bridgerton.”

They stood in silence for a few seconds, Kate focused on the floor numbers slowly falling to the correct floor. He looked good today. His black suit didn’t have a wrinkle in sight, neatly fitting him but it wasn’t too tight, it was just the perfect fit to show the outline of his muscular arms without straining the fabric.

Stop thinking about his arms, Kate.

“How are you?” His deep voice, still waking up from the slight croak in his voice, snapped her out of her thoughts.

This was so awkward. She could feel her palms beginning to sweat, the clamminess making her silver ring slip up and down her index finger. “I’m...good, thank you. How are you?”

“Good, thank you.” It was so polite, so robotic, so unlike them.

Kate chose not to respond, choosing awkward silence over whatever this conversation was. It was barely a conversation, more an exchange of plastic, uncomfortable words as the events of the weekend and his

Anthony, regrettably, chose to open his mouth.

“You look different.”

Kate snapped her head to look at him. “What?”

“It’s your hair,” He said, moving his head up and down, his expression unreadable as he inspected her straightened hair, different from her usual bushy curls. “I liked your hair before.”

Now they were back to normal. Kate felt the familiar rage fill her body, the tension making her neck sore and shoulders heavy. “I don’t remember asking.”

He let out a harsh breath, shaking his head slightly as a flash of regret washed across his face. “I didn’t mean-“

The doors opened and Kate practically jumped out of them, not hearing the end of his sentence as she made her way towards the head of Human Resources office, Miss Agatha Danbury.

Kate checked in with her secretary, who informed Agatha Kate was waiting for her. The anxiety brewed in her stomach, making her feel nauseous and she felt so uncomfortable. It felt like her dress was clinging to her and she couldn’t stop fiddling with her hair.

The last person she wanted to see appeared beside her, checking in with Miss Danbury’s secretary, who blushed as Anthony spoke. He looked apprehensive as he approached Kate, a guilty look on his face. “I have a meeting with Danbury.”

Kate frowned, the anxiety in her stomach warping into pure nausea as reality set in. “So do I.”

“Ah” Agatha Danbury said, holding her arms out as she smirked at the pair of them. “If it isn’t the couple of the hour. Please, come in.”

Kate shot a look of alarm at Anthony, who didn’t look phased in the slightest. His calmness only provoked Kate more. They stepped into her office, closing the door behind them as they took a seat in front of her desk.

“Miss Danbury.”

“Anthony, Kate,” Her smirk only widened as she spoke, twirling a pen in her hand on her desk. “I’m sure we’re on a first name basis at this point in our careers.”

“I hoped I’d see more of you two after the charity run incident last year,” Miss Danbury said, her eyes lighting up with amusement as she recalled the events of last year. “That was quite entertaining.”

They had spent the entire run trying to beat each other.

Kate crossed her arms. “Not because of me.”

Anthony scoffed, shaking his head. “You pushed me!”

“You deliberately cut me off-“

This time, he actually snorted. “I’m faster and you’re a sore loser.”

Kate gasped. “I only lost because you cheated-“

Miss Danbury swiftly interrupted their conversation, knowing if she didn’t they could go on arguing forever. “I’m sure you know why you’re here.”

Kate shook her head.

“I have to say, I’m not surprised. I always thought there was something more going on here. But rules are rules.”

They stared blankly at her. Miss Danbury frowned slightly, staring at the two of them with a slightly frustrated look. Her message wasn’t clicking. “One of the requirements of being in a relationship is disclosing it.”

Kate looked at her horrified, the ball finally dropping.

Anthony snickered under his breath.

“There is absolutely not-”

“Agatha,” Anthony said sweetly, in a tone so polite it made Kate’s skin crawl. He certainly didn’t reserve it for her. “Could I speak to Kate alone for a second? If you would be so kind.”

He didn’t fool Miss Danbury, who smirked before nodding her head slowly, making her way towards the door. “Of course. I’ll check in with my assistant.”

Kate had no doubt she would be listening in through the intercom.

“What?” Kate hissed, glancing back at the door and back to glare at him.

Anthony, who was thinking exactly like Kate, covered the intercom with his hand as soon as Miss Danbury clicked the door shut. “This could be good for us.”

Kate stared blankly at him. “There is no us.”

“Obviously,” Anthony said dryly, letting out a deep sigh before turning back to her. “But no one else needs to know that.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“When am I not?”

How was she the only one with sense in this situation? “You’re my boss. This is highly inappropriate.”

“Nothing about our relationship is appropriate, Kate.”

He had a point but she wasn’t bloody well going to give him it. “There is no relationship!”

“To us, yes.” Anthony pressed, his frustration showing in his wrinkled forehead and pressed lips. “It looks like one to everyone else. We could make this work. To our advantage.”

“We are in human resources,” Kate said, refusing to listen to anything he was saying. He had officially lost it. There was no possible advantage to a pretend relationship, or whatever he was suggesting, with him. “I could report you.”

“You could,” Anthony said, his voice dangerously low as he spoke. It sent chills down Kate’s spine and they weren’t the bad kind. “But you won’t, will you?”

She hated how right he was. Of course she wouldn't. Kate finally took the bait. “What is in this for you?”

“My publicist, mother and I don’t see eye to eye on how my reputation has been perceived, lately. I need to do some reparations for my reputation. I also need someone to distract my mother from trying to set me up with every bloody woman she meets.” He looked Kate up and down, nodding his head as if he had made some decision. “You’re a good fit.”

“Well,” Kate said, scoffing slightly in disbelief. “That’s a backhanded compliment if I’ve ever heard one. Why would I ever want people to think I’m dating you?”

That caught his full attention, sitting up straighter and frowning. “Why wouldn’t you want to date me?” He actually looked offended.

Good.

Kate glanced at the white clock on the wall and back at him. “How long do we have? This might take a while.”

He wasn’t the slightest bit amused as he glared at her, shaking his head. “It would just be for a while. An easy façade. A few appearances. Mainly during my family’s party in Kent. There must be something that you want.”

There was.

No. She couldn’t possibly be entertaining something so insane. That was a dangerous game to play, not to mention an absolutely insane one-this wasn’t some romantic comedy that had a happy ending. This was Anthony Bridgerton. Her boss. People were already talking. Mary would be pleased, so would Edwina. For some reason, they both actually seemed to like him. Kate wouldn’t be seen to be alone, no matter how alone she felt. No. No. It was crazy. It was absolutely crazy to even debate it.

But.

But-

The opportunity was right there in front of her. She just had to grab it. What did she have to lose? “I want that senior manager promotion.”

She put her hand up before he could speak, and surprisingly, he let her finish. “Nigel Berbrooke is an incompetent idiot whose father is on the board and will get him that promotion. I’m smarter and more qualified. You know that. Everyone knows that. My numbers and clientele are higher. It’s the only opportunity open for the next five years and I deserve it.” Nigel Berbrooke could not be her boss. She’d rather quit.

Anthony stared at her, slightly suspiciously as her words sunk in. “I can’t guarantee that.”

She was already standing up. “Then we have nothing more to discuss.”

He relented quite quickly. “Fine! Fine. I’ll handle it.”

She was taking any “I also want Sophie exclusively as my assistant and a higher salary for her.”

“Any more requests?” It was definitely rhetorical but Kate didn’t really care at this point. It was so ludicrous, this fake facade she was signing up to-she might as well get the most out of it. People already thought they were dating, they already had their own opinions on who Kate was. She would let them. At least this way, she was getting something out of it, knowing she actually deserved it. As painful as the process of getting it may be.

“An office as far away from Nigel Berbrooke as possible.”

He extended his hand towards her, nodding hastily. No one could blame her on that request. “Do we have a deal?”

“We do.”

They shook hands and just like that, Kate had sealed her fate.

“You know,” Anthony said, clapping his hands slightly as if he had finished signing a business deal. That’s what it was to him, some twisted agreement that she had no idea how would play out. Could she really lie to her family? Her friends? “A lot of people would be happy to be seen dating London’s eligible bachelor.”

Kate rolled her eyes, before turning to smirk sweetly at him. It was easier to pretend she was amused and ignore the sickening feeling in her stomach. “I wouldn’t, though. I’d be dating you.”

“Do you save this wit exclusively for me?” He asked, giving her

This time, her smile was slightly genuine. Only slightly. “Always.”

He turned completely around in his chair, properly looking at her. Under his gaze, she felt uneasy. Exposed. “Come on, Kate. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Famous last words.

[arrestjellyfish]

Rainbow Blossoms

Chapter 1: Saturday

[Sanders Sides, romantic prinxiety / Virgil/Roman]

Summary:

Tattoo artist Roman Prince goes to the local florist to visit his elderly friend, Céleste Tempȇte, and pick some flowers to use as inspiration for a new design.

But instead of finding a soft old woman amongst the iridescent display of flora, he meets her anxious emo grandson. Virgil Tempȇte is everything you would not expect to find in a flower shop.

Cue intrigued simp noises.

Other chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

Chapter warnings: swearing, suggestive language, mention of mild illness, brief mention of artwork depicting mild blood

Chapter word count: 6,900

Read on AO3 or below!

[Also available as a podfic!]

oOo

It was unusually warm for a midsummer day in England. Crowds of people had flocked to the streets in excitement, hoping to soak up the best of the sunshine before the clouds were bound to return with a vengeance later that week.

Roman waltzed across the cobblestone road, inhaling rich scents of earthy vegetables and fresh, salty fish. Market vendors hailed from every direction, boasting low prices on sugar snap peas (freshly-picked that morning) and 2 kilos for the price of one on the juiciest peaches. Pedestrians of every age bustled around, energised by the atmosphere.

A burly man cut across Roman’s path, lugging a crate of dirt-caked carrots across the road. Roman had to sidestep to avoid crashing into him. He bumped into a metal pole on one of the many market stands in his haste, bruising his arm.

‘Are you quite all right, young man?’ the woman behind the stall asked in a kind voice.

A wide grin broke onto his face as he rubbed his aching arm. ‘I’m wonderful, thank you, madam!’

He adored market day.

His phone chimed in his pocket, and he knew it would be Remy demanding he get his arse back to work. Really, Roman knew he should have been hurrying back to the studio, but how could he possibly be expected to forego a gentle stroll through the town centre on such a wondrous day as this? 

Besides, he had a perfectly valid excuse to be out of the stuffy tattoo parlour on this bright afternoon. The client he had had a consultation with earlier had requested quite an intricate design for their future tattoo, consisting of various flowers. Roman felt a duty to purchase a bouquet for reference, wanting even his initial sketches to live up to his reputation as an artist. He hadn’t been nominated tattooist of the month three months in a row for nothing, after all.

To aid in the completion of his quest, he knew the perfect, quaint little flower shop hidden away behind the sandstone buildings of the high street. There was an abundance of flower stalls dotted along the market, of course, though Roman was well-versed in selecting the finest of flora (having had plenty of opportunities to woo handsome young men in his 25 years) and knew a wider selection would be available at Beau Blossoms.

There was also a sense of loyalty that made him skip past the flower stalls and duck into the familiar crooked backstreet. He had become well acquainted with his favourite florist’s elderly owner, Céleste Tempȇte, who Roman had grown to see as one of his dearest friends, even if their 50-year age gap was unconventional.

He quickened his pace as he neared the modest shopfront, it’s pale blue paint chipping from years of wear. The windows were adorned with an iridescent display of the most gorgeous flower arrangements, as usual.

‘Good afternoon, mon fleur d’amour!’ Roman sang heartily as he pushed the glass door open, ducking his head with practised ease to avoid hitting it on the bell that jingled above him.

He breathed deeply at the onslaught of pungent floral scents. The intensity of the pollen had overwhelmed him at first all those months ago, though he had grown accustomed to it and now welcomed the attack on his senses as if greeting an old friend.

Crooked, aged floorboards creaked beneath him as he stepped around the corner of the entranceway. ‘How is the fairest woman in town fairing on this fair day?’

Roman looked up at the wooden desk where Céleste would always be slumped, doing a sudoku puzzle and smiling widely at Roman’s antics.

Then he froze.

Sitting in Céleste’s rickety stool was a complete stranger. They looked around Roman’s age, perhaps a tad younger, and were a decidedly different sight from what Roman had expected.

Céleste was a stout woman with silver hair who would often wear pastel floral dresses, with a mint-green shawl perpetually draped across her rounded shoulders. This new person looked similarly below-average in height, though otherwise was a polar opposite. They appeared scrawny and the pale skin on their hands and neck was practically swallowed by an oversized black and purple tartan jacket. Their ripped black skinny jeans (complete with chains and studded belt) were a far cry from Céleste’s nude pantyhose and where Céleste’s grey eyes would crinkle with delight at Roman’s entrance, this person’s dark eyes were wide with surprise and framed by the blackest eyeliner and smokey purple eyeshadow.

‘You’re not my Céleste,’ Roman said, feeling robbed.

The stranger’s eyes grew wider still and their eyebrows pulled down in anger. ‘Dude, what the fuck? You flirt with my grandma?’

Roman held his hands up in surrender, hoping to placate the sudden hostile atmosphere. ‘Relax, Count Drag-ula. I’m gay.’

‘Oh…’ the stranger breathed, seeming humbled and embarrassed by their outburst.

They slumped in their seat, having been sitting ramrod straight since Roman had entered. Then their arms folded around their torso and their shoulders hunched up as if protecting their neck. Bright purple hair fell over their eyes as they looked to the floor. The intimidating air that had been so pronounced in them seconds previously faded and was replaced by what Roman recognised as debilitating shyness.

It clicked pretty quickly after that.

‘You must be Virgil Tempȇte, right?’

Céleste had mentioned her grandson on many occasions during their friendly chats. Mostly she only mentioned him in passing, offhandedly saying that he had moved back home after a year in London, or boasting about what Virgil had gotten her for her 75th birthday (a vintage encyclopedia of 18th-century fashion trends which Roman had had the good fortune of borrowing). Though a few months previously, in an act of desperation, she had spoken much more candidly about her grandson. She had sought Roman’s advice on how she could help her beloved petite chauve-souris to become more confident in himself and overcome his severe anxiety.

Roman’s heart had warmed in hearing the old woman care so intensely about her grandson’s wellbeing. When Roman himself had been struggling with his confidence back in school, his parents had not exactly been forthcoming with support. It was refreshing to witness such unconditional love between family members.

His advice had mainly been that there was not much that Céleste could do to enforce a stronger sense of self-worth in Virgil, but that she should simply let him know that she loved and supported him and would be there for him as he grew.

Now, Roman presumed Virgil had come out of his shell, at least a little, given his rather eccentric makeup and clothing choices. Though he was still curled into himself protectively as he gave Roman a wary look through a wisp of his fringe.

‘How do you know my name?’

‘Céleste talks about you a lot,’ Roman said easily, offering one of his winning smiles.

It was, unfortunately, not met with the same enamoured responses he was accustomed to receiving. In fact, rather than dazzled by Roman’s charm, Virgil looked mortified.

Hearing that someone had been talking about you behind your back to a complete stranger was likely a little distressing to someone with an anxiety disorder, Roman realised. He moved the conversation on quickly.

‘I’m Roman Prince.’ He stepped forward to hold out his hand, which Virgil took tentatively. His fingertips were smooth. ‘I imagine your grandmother has mentioned me before.’

‘Um,’ Virgil stalled, pulling his hand back to himself and shaking his jacket sleeve so that it fell back over his fingers. ‘I’m not sure.’

Indignance overwhelmed Roman’s being.

‘Oh, come now.’ He leaned sideways against the desk, sticking out his chin just enough to profess confidence, not enough to intimidate. He had refined his poses down to a tee. ‘Your grandmother must have told you tales of the handsome young prince who brightens her days with a soft serenade,’ he finished the sentence in a lilting melody.

Virgil’s eyebrows shot up and his lips parted (they were a beautiful splash of rose against his fair skin, Roman thought). Pride swelled in Roman at the look of recognition on Virgil’s face. Céleste must have regaled her family with plenty of enthralling stories of Roman’s magnetism and penchant for chivalry.

‘Oh my God.’

‘Everything you’ve heard is true,’ Roman drawled with a confident smirk.

‘You’re the guy that grabbed the cactus like a microphone, aren’t you?’

Roman’s smile dropped instantly at the way Virgil’s lips tugged up in amusement.

‘Yes, well.’ He bridled a little, standing upright again. ‘T’was not my finest moment.’

‘Yeah, maybe not,’ Virgil mumbled. He bit his lip in what Roman assumed was an effort to contain laughter.

Heat flooded Roman’s cheeks and he promptly spun away from the table.

‘So she would tell you that story and nothing of my usual elegance,’ Roman grumbled, starting to delicately run his fingers over the blossoms displayed on the shelves. He had not taken Céleste for one to actively humiliate him.

‘No, she - I -’ Virgil stammered. ‘I’m sorry. Grandma - she has said plenty of nice things about you too, I just…’

Roman turned back to him, noting the stiffness in his posture and the pained look that pinched his features.

‘That’s just the one that sticks in the mind, y’know?’ Virgil’s long arm stretched upwards as he scratched at the back of his neck. Roman thought it might have been a way to dispel the awkwardness as Virgil’s elbow bent at such an odd angle that it partially hid his flushed cheek.

Not one to hold a grudge unnecessarily - especially not against such endearing young men - Roman smiled softly and nodded in acknowledgement.

Virgil fidgeted on his stool, seeming hesitant, then slid off of it to stand up. Though he didn’t seem much more at ease on his feet, shuffling nervously and shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. ‘You, um, you're the guy that brings her fruit tea in the mornings and texts her cute animal videos, right?’

‘C’est moi!’ Roman said with a bright grin, hoping his cheery disposition would comfort Virgil somewhat. He felt an inexplicable need to ensure the other man felt calm.

‘Well… thanks,’ Virgil mumbled, pulling his hands out of his pockets, picking at the frayed sleeves around his fingers, then burying them in his pockets again. ‘Dad and I kinda worry about her being here on her own every day, since we live a bit further out of town. It’s… nice to hear her talk about you.’

Not for the first time, and what he was sure certainly wouldn’t be the last, Roman’s chest filled with joy at hearing about the sheer love shared between the Tempȇtes.

‘But of course,’ he said, happy to see Virgil’s shoulders soften from their previous rigidity. ‘I make sure she does not go a day without seeing a friendly face, though I’m sure as wonderful as she is Céleste must have made plenty of friends in her years here.’

‘Yeah, but none like you,’ Virgil replied without pause. There was a small smile curling his lips and it was the first genuine show of happiness Roman had witnessed in him. It was quite captivating.

Then Virgil’s shoulders were suddenly raised to his neck again and he rocked backwards on his feet, putting some distance between them (at least as much as was possible in a 20-square-metre shop packed full with buckets and bundles of flowers). Roman tried to ignore the swell of disappointment in his chest.

He did not think himself skilled at much beyond his talent for tattooing and the great art of courtship, though he was confident in his ability to read the atmosphere of a room and knew to change the subject before the anxious man became any more uncomfortable.

‘So,’ Roman started, turning back to the various bunches of flowers that sat in the water troughs around the edges of the shop. He cradled the bright bloom of a sunflower in his palms and lifted it slightly from its water to better admire its beauty. ‘Where is the celestial woman? She must be on quite a grand adventure to have left behind her beloved blossoms!’

‘She’s sick.’

Roman’s stomach lurched and he felt the colour drain from his face in an instant. The sunflower dropped back into the bucket with a light splash and clang as the stem hit the metal base.

He snapped his gaze onto Virgil, who had opted to take his hands out of his pockets again and was twiddling a stem of white hyacinths between his fingers. He seemed completely undisturbed by the words that had just left his mouth.

‘My gosh, will she be all right?’ Roman asked, his voice shaking. ‘Is she in the hospital? When did this happen?’

‘Oh, shit.’ Virgil’s eyes blew wide and the white petals stopped their twirling in his hold. ‘I didn’t mean - she’s just got the flu.’

Roman was unconvinced of how reassuring that should have been, given Céleste’s ripe age.

Apparently his uncertainty was palpable as Virgil hurriedly continued, ‘My dad’s looking after her. It’s really mild, don’t worry.’

A massive sigh of relief escaped Roman and he felt the tension that he didn’t realise had seized his body begin to ebb away. Céleste had proudly proclaimed her son to be the most attentive medical nurse in the world, and given her compassionate nature Roman had not doubted for a second that that would be true of her own offspring. She was in safe hands.

‘Dear Zeus, don’t scare me like that!’ Roman cried with a steadying hand on his chest, though it was not a sincere reprimand and was followed by a breathy laugh.

‘Sorry,’ Virgil said, smiling apologetically.

Despite Roman’s brief upset, the misunderstanding seemed to have broken the last of the tension between them and Virgil did not flinch away when Roman took a step closer. He did it under the pretence of wiping his fingers dry on the tatty, damp hand towel that perpetually hung on a hook in the wall. They pulled away wetter than they had been before. ‘It’s no issue, Virgil.’

‘If it helps,’ Virgil offered, ‘I reacted just the same when Dad first told me.’

‘Oh?’ Roman prompted, feeling like he wasn’t ready for Virgil to stop talking yet.

The slighter man tended to squirm a little as he spoke, though not in an uncomfortable way; it seemed to be habitual more than anything. Habit or not, his lithe body twisted in such a subtle way that it was almost reminiscent of a pulse or a rhythmic dance. Roman found himself entranced by Virgil’s mannerisms as well as his character. And, undoubtedly, his beauty. ‘How so?’

Roman leaned his hip against the desk, locking his arms in a way that gently pushed his chest forward and stretched his t-shirt lightly. He knew it would be subtle enough to avoid arousing suspicion. Though, he thoroughly hoped that would be the only form of arousal he was avoiding.

Right on cue, Virgil’s eyes danced down to Roman’s chest, then flitted sideways to the window, back to Roman’s chest (where they lingered for a couple of seconds), and then down to the floor where they stayed. Roman smirked.

‘Yeah, I -’ Virgil cleared his throat ‘- I freaked out a bit. I actually told her I was gay the day before she caught it and I thought I’d, like, shocked her body or something.’

A surprised delight washed over Roman and his teeth bared in a disbelieving smile. Wasn’t this just perfect?

Virgil’s dark eyes - which on closer inspection Roman could now see were mismatched, one being a rich brown and the other green - rose to meet his gaze. Roman watched as he crumbled into himself with the realisation of what he had just said.

‘Oh my God, why did I tell you that?’ Virgil lamented under his breath, squinting his eyes shut and bringing his thumbnail up to his mouth.

‘I wonder,’ Roman murmured through a wide smile. It never failed to invigorate him when his charms effectively ensnared a cute boy. His cheekiness ran high on the excitement. ‘Now as much as I would truly love to stand here with you for as long as the hours in the day would allow, I do have a request of you.’

‘Uh… sure,’ Virgil mumbled around his thumbnail. He had recovered quickly from Roman’s flirting, though the colour was still high on his cheekbones, and Roman knew better than to think it was just from the warm weather. ‘What is it?’

‘I need your assistance in gathering the gayest selection of flowers possible.’

A sharp exhale blew from Virgil’s mouth, slightly muffled around the hand which still sat flush against his chin. It sounded partway between a sigh and a nervous laugh. ‘Care to elaborate?’

‘Anything for you, darling,’ Roman said in his smoothest baritone. His heart skipped at how Virgil’s fingers clenched tightly around the hem of his sleeve. ‘I’m a tattoo artist at Rainbow Skins Parlour - have you heard of it?’

Virgil’s eyes lit up beautifully and his hand dropped back to his side giving Roman a perfect view of those rose petal lips that enamoured him so. ‘Oh man, that’s so cool. My friend got her tat done with you. She said you guys were super accommodating of her dysphoria and stuff.’

‘That’s the aim,’ Roman beamed. He was immensely proud of the atmosphere he and his coworkers had created at the studio. Their mission was to create a safe space for those in the LGBT+ community who wanted to get inked and it seemed from all of the positive feedback they received that they had achieved that vision. ‘One of my clients wants a design full of flowers that symbolise gay love, so I came seeking a florist’s expertise.’

‘I dunno if Grandma is too hung up on the symbolism of the flowers, to be honest,’ Virgil said hesitantly, picking at his fingernails then folding his hands behind his back. ‘She’s more about the biology and aesthetics of it all.’

‘Well then lucky for me that Aphrodite blessed me with your glorious presence today.’ Roman settled to sit on the edge of the desk. It being quite low rise, his figure sunk slightly so that he was now directly eye-level with Virgil. The other man’s eyes did not leave Roman’s face. ‘You look like the poetic type.’

Green and brown eyes squinted suspiciously. ‘I bet my Grandma told you I studied creative writing.’

‘Even so,’ Roman shrugged and inched his foot along the wooden floor, letting the toes of his Vans bump against the heel of Virgil’s Doc Marten boot. Virgil did not move. ‘Am I correct in assuming you’ve done your fair bit of research into queer imagery?’

There was a pause wherein Virgil pouted and remained stubbornly silent. Then, after a few seconds: ‘You can’t go wrong with a green carnation.’

The tip of Roman’s tongue stuck out with a smile and he bit it lightly in amusement. Virgil’s cheeks went an endearing shade of dusty pink and he spun around, quite inelegantly bumping into the workbench that stood in the middle of the room. He grabbed a pair of faintly rusted shears with trembling fingers.

‘Uh, so we’ve got a few of those back here,’ Virgil blurted, rushing to the opposite corner of the shop floor.

Roman sauntered after him quietly. He peered over the other man’s shoulder as he pulled a large bushel from a bucket. The plant displayed a large, beautifully frilly bloom of lime green blossom.

A sharp, metallic snap from the shears resounded around the small room and the large bunch was lowered back to the water to leave a single flower held gently between Virgil’s slender fingers.

When Virgil turned back around, a quiet gasp escaped him as he bounced back, only just preventing himself from crashing right into Roman.

‘What, you couldn’t wait over there?’ If Virgil was trying to sound anything other than flustered and breathless, he had failed miserably.

Roman held his hand out wordlessly with a gentle smile.

The flower was pressed into his palm, and Roman made sure to capture it quickly enough to delicately brush his fingertips against Virgil’s.

In the dappled beam of sunlight that penetrated the packed floral displays in the window, the carnation was much the same shade as Virgil’s left eye. Roman hummed quietly as he inspected the flower, then looked up, delighted that Virgil was watching him.

‘Beautiful,’ Roman purred, unfaltering as he looked into Virgil’s eyes.

A loud snort of laughter cut the tension between them and Roman felt his brow furrow.

‘Okay, Romeo,’ Virgil huffed, shaking his head with a faint smirk. He avoided Roman’s eyes. ‘This is a fleuriste, not a fromagerie.’

Roman felt a thrill rush through him (which was only in part accredited to Virgil’s sudden fluent French accent). Apparently such simple flirting tactics would not suffice with this suitor. The promise of a slight challenge was electrifying to him. He did love to play this game.

He lifted the carnation and tucked it behind his ear like a pencil, smiling when Virgil giggled under his breath at what must have been a silly image. ‘What else may you suggest we add to our beau, gay bouquet?’

A few minutes passed by with Virgil selecting and snipping flowers, explaining the historical queer culture behind them as he went. Roman nodded along and dutifully made noises of interest, though did not dare to butt into Virgil’simpassioned monologue.

It was enchanting to hear Virgil ramble freely on a subject that so obviously enthralled him. He spoke in such a way that made even the most mundane facts feel visceral with descriptive language and Roman couldn’t bear to interrupt such eloquent poetic prose.

He only realised how little he himself had contributed to the conversation when Virgil trailed off with an apology.

A pile of evenly cut lavender, violets, gladioli, calla lilies and, of course, green carnations lay in front of Virgil on the workbench and his fingers fidgeted with some of the lilac petals gently.

‘Please, don’t apologise,’ Roman insisted. He stood opposite Virgil on the other side of the islanded workbench and leaned his elbows on the shabby surface, carefully staying clear of the gardening tools that were scattered around it. ‘You’re incredibly knowledgeable of this subject.’

‘Yeah, employing really subtle methods of representation kind of became my solace in university, you know?’ Virgil said faintly, his eyes fixed on where he weaved a long, detached flower stem between his fingers. ‘Being a paranoid, closeted creative writing student will do that to you.’

A cloud of dejection smothered the sunny atmosphere in the room.

‘Classic fairy tales were my own escape as a closeted teen,’ Roman offered, suspecting Virgil would not want such a heavy topic resting on his shoulders alone.

‘Oh, yeah?’ Virgil finally looked up with an eager intrigue dancing in his eyes.

Roman stretched his arm across the table so that Virgil could better see the tattoo that decorated his right arm upwards of his elbow. He rolled the short sleeve of his t-shirt up to his shoulder to reveal the whole of it. (If he flexed his arm slightly to better highlight his muscles, Virgil did not say anything about it.) He was immensely proud of the artwork on his arm, displaying a busy conglomeration of various fairy tale motifs all interwoven including a bitten red apple, a shattered glass slipper, and a frog wearing a crown. Though the focus of the design was a bird carrying a golden chain and a pair of red shoes, with a millstone around its neck.

‘Fuck yeah, The Juniper Tree,’ Virgil breathed.

‘You know it?’ Roman asked, surprised that Virgil had recognised the more nuanced imagery.

‘I love the Brothers Grimm.’ With a slight creak of the wood beneath him, Virgil sat sideways on the workbench and leaned to get a closer look at Roman’s arm. ‘I wouldn’t have taken you for a fan of more macabre stories.’

‘Well, I must admit in terms of imagery I appreciate the darker motifs,’ Roman indicated the depiction of a bloodied dagger hidden amongst a tangle of thorns on his bicep, ‘but when it comes to the stories I do prefer a good old-fashioned happy ending.’

Virgil sucked his teeth and leant his chin on his hand with a sigh, putting on an exaggerated air of disappointment. ‘Of course you do.’

‘Please, how could I not appreciate a handsome prince bursting into song and falling for a mysterious, beautiful stranger then doing everything in his power to woo them?’ Roman angled his body closer to Virgil. The edge of the workbench was pressed quite awkwardly into his thigh, but it was worth the slight numbness in his leg to watch Virgil’s eyelashes flutter and his chest rise and fall more quickly in response to how close they were. Roman purposefully allowed his eyes to linger over Virgil’s lips. ‘Doesn’t that remind you of someone?’

The lips pulled into a smirk and Roman’s gaze climbed up to see mirth sparkling in Virgil’s eyes.

‘What?’ Roman asked, only mildly offended.

It was proving to be something of a quest trying to ascertain which methods of flirting were working on Virgil. One minute the man was a blushing, stuttering mess, then the next he was openly laughing at Roman’s attempts to court him. Still, as the knights in his favourite stories never gave up in the face of extreme danger, he would not be deterred by Virgil’s stubbornness. It was obvious the man was interested in him but was perhaps a bit bratty. If anything that only made Roman all the more eager to win him over.

‘Nothing at all,’ Virgil shrugged. His tone was remarkably insincere. ‘So are you just thirsty for medieval knights or do you have some delusion of grandeur that I should steer clear of?’

It was cocky, and the man’s posture proclaimed it. He held his head high, baring his neck (and what a lovely, slender, pale, begging-to-be-decorated-with-splotches-of-purple neck it was). Though Roman saw through the bravado instantly.

He leaned in further, the edge of the bench completely cutting off the blood flow to his leg now, though he hardly cared. Virgil’s eyes darted between Roman’s gaze and the edges of the room hastily, as if the urge to look away and the urge to hold his ground were battling each other in his mind. His confident stance faltered slightly as Roman drew closer, their faces now mere inches apart.

Roman murmured lowly, ‘Why, Virgil? Are you struggling to find a reason to stay away from me?’

The once-pearly cheeks in front of him were now practically glowing pink.

The adrenaline that so often accompanied a successful courtship was running rampant in Roman’s veins and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Matched with the fact that he was practically drunk off of the lidded quality to Virgil’s gorgeous eyes, Roman almost missed the melodic jingling of a bell.

It wasn’t until a loud, cheery voice called out that Roman realised they were not alone anymore.

‘Kiddo, you forgot your packed lunch!’

Virgil scrambled off of the workbench, and Roman followed his lead by standing back upright, albeit a lot more calmly.

‘Dad, I’m with a customer,’ Virgil grumbled, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

Roman indulged in watching Virgil’s face go even pinker before turning to the entrance of the shop.

A stout man stepped out from the entranceway with a wide grin and a tupperware box cradled in his hands. His freckles were unmatched by either his mother or his son, though Roman could spy the slight similarities between their features. This was Patton Tempȇte. His face lit up with joy when his gaze fell on Roman.

‘And who’s this?’ Mr Tempȇte asked excitedly, his eyes sparkling at his son as he bounced on his toes.

‘Grandma’s friend, Roman Prince,’ Virgil mumbled. ‘The one who brings her tea and stuff.’

Mr Tempȇte made a delighted noise of surprise.

‘A pleasure to meet you, Mr Tempȇte.’ Roman smiled widely, offering his open hand. He winced slightly as he stepped forward and pins and needles exploded in his thigh. ‘I truly adore your mother, and your son is quickly beginning to grow on me too.’ He shot a quick wink to Virgil.

The look of utter betrayal on Virgil’s face made it difficult to contain a chuckle.

‘It’s wonderful to meet you too, Roman!’ Mr Tempȇte beamed, shuffling the tupperware into the crook of his elbow to shake Roman’s hand energetically. ‘And don’t bother calling me “Mr” or “Sir” or any of that silliness, Patton’s my name so feel free to wear it out! I would give you a big old hug, but I don’t wanna pass on Maman’s flu.’

‘How is she?’ Roman immediately asked, truly concerned for his friend.

‘She’s just fine,’ Patton nodded, seeming to approve of Roman’s concern. ‘She’s pretty much through it all now, I’m just forcing her to stay home for a couple more days as a precaution.’

‘I can’t imagine she’s too thrilled about being housebound,’ Roman sniggered knowingly.

Patton rolled his eyes dramatically with a smile. ‘Not at all. I tell you, she’s untameable, always raring to get out with her friends and go experiencing the world. Honestly, I always say she’s more of a 22-year-old than Virgil is! Isn’t that true, kiddo?’

A faint swell of dread built inside Roman’s stomach at the way Mr Tempȇte had phrased those words. He had probably meant no harm, but it didn’t sound like that kind of critical comparison would do much to heighten Virgil’s confidence.

Sure enough, when Roman’s gaze flickered over to him it was clear those words seemed to have struck the wrong chord. The younger man tugged his sleeves further over his fingers and shrugged, though the movement was so stiff and frantic that it was more resemblant of a reflexive jolt.

‘Whatever, Dad,’ Virgil muttered under his breath, scowling at his feet.

It was disheartening to witness Virgil’s fiery wit be snuffed out so swiftly. Roman felt out of place in the exchange and feigned interest in a sprig of leaves in the flower pile. He subtly massaged his thigh under the table to ease the remnants of tingling from his pins and needles.

‘Oh…’ The energy was drained from Patton’s voice, and Roman looked up to see hurt briefly flash in his eyes before he plastered on a bright smile once more. ‘Well, I’ll be out of you guys’ hair. I just wanted to bring you your food.’

‘I don’t need a packed lunch, I can pick something up on the way back.’

‘Either way, it’s here if you get peckish before closing time.’ Patton placed the tupperware beside the register and apparently couldn’t resist drumming the lid in a gentle rhythm. Virgil groaned and Patton giggled. ‘Listen, be thankful I’m your delivery man. I caught your grandma lacing up her running shoes wanting to bring this to you.’

Roman chuckled lightly to himself. That certainly sounded like Céleste.

For the first time since Patton had entered the shop, Virgil looked up from the floor and his eyes locked onto Roman. It was as if his laughter had reminded Virgil of his presence.

Virgil quickly shot his father a pointed look. ‘Okay thanks, dad. Bye.’ The words merged into each other in his haste.

To his credit, Patton didn’t seem to be upset by his son’s eagerness to get rid of him.

‘It was lovely meeting you, Roman!’ Patton waved with a wide smile, already making his way out of the shop. ‘See you later, ma petite chauve-souris!’

Virgil’s huff of annoyance was drowned out by the bell jingling again.

The awkward tension was thick.

‘So, can you make flower arrangements?’ Roman asked casually, choosing to entirely ignore the stunted exchange with Virgil’s father. It seemed like Virgil would not have wanted to acknowledge it, given his obvious embarrassment.

‘Um, not really,’ Virgil mumbled, still hugging himself tightly. He peered out from his fringe hesitantly and Roman did not miss how his body relaxed when their eyes met. ‘I mean - okay, yeah. Kind of,’ he corrected. ‘Grandma taught me a little bit when I was younger. Mainly I just do it for fun, though. I’ve never made one for a customer.’

It would have been responsible for Roman to simply take his flowers as they were, pay for them, and get back to work, leaving Virgil to do his job. He could even have left his number and hoped Virgil would have the confidence to text him later on. Though, looking at the slump of Virgil’s posture and the way his sleeves were clawed and pulled taut by his painted fingernails, Roman felt a desire, nay, a duty to ensure Virgil was smiling again before he left.

‘Fancy trying your hand at it?’ Roman suggested gently, not wanting to pressure the man who was clearly on edge.

Virgil’s gaze flitted between Roman’s face and the workbench. His fingertips danced on his sleeves as he considered the flowers and Roman realised he was itching to reach out and touch them. ‘I can try, I guess.’

Hesitant hands pulled away from purple sleeves and within seconds Virgil was rustling through the stems with intent. Roman leaned over the surface slightly, though with no sly objective in mind to fluster Virgil this time. He simply wished to watch him craft.

‘I’m not very good,’ Virgil said quite stunted, even as he started rearranging the flowers into colour-coordinated piles with a clear artistic goal in mind. ‘So, you know, don’t expect much.’

Roman knew the self-deprecating tactic well; how one hoped that by lowering everyone’s expectations, they could avoid harsh critique of their work. He had employed it plenty of times himself before he had grown more confident in his artistic abilities.

‘It doesn’t have to be perfect,’ Roman decided on saying. It would hopefully relieve the pressure Virgil had put on himself.

A small smile tugged at Virgil’s lips and he raised his eyes briefly from the flowers to send what seemed to be a look of thanks to Roman.

‘Besides, I trust that you have an artistic streak in you.’ Roman felt more comfortable in reigniting their previous flirtatiousness after having coaxed a smile out of Virgil. ‘I mean, with such a steady hand and aesthetic eye for that makeup, I’ll be lucky if the bouquet is half as beautiful.’

Virgil swiftly knelt down on the floor to reach under the bench - where Céleste kept the floral foam, Roman remembered - though Roman caught a glimpse of a wide smile and pink-dusted cheekbones before his face was hidden.

‘Basket or pot?’ Virgil called up from the floor.

Roman dropped to his knees and sent Virgil a bright smile underneath the table. ‘Whatever you want. I’m giving you full creative control.’

‘Risky move.’ Virgil raised his eyebrows with a cheeky smirk. ‘Our most expensive arrangements can rake up to one-hundred-and-fifty quid.’

‘All right, full creative control as long as it’s under forty pounds.’

Time went by fluidly from then on as they chatted over Virgil’s work. His flower placements were tentative at first, and his eyes kept darting up to check Roman’s face for a reaction, but Roman only ever smiled lightly and continued the conversation. (A couple of times his text tone rang out loudly, though their talking remained unfettered by the mild interruptions.)

Eventually, Virgil became more certain of his decisions and was tapping into skills Roman was wholly unprepared for. His slender hand pulled a leaf stripper swiftly down long stems with practised ease, he shuffled the flowers around between his fingers fluidly and his features smoothed as he lowered the blooms into their rightful places in the arrangement.

Roman had no idea how long he had been in the florist by the time Virgil finally deemed the display finished, but he could hardly bring himself to care. The bunch of flowers which were already such a beautiful collection before were now a piece of art, the lilac and emerald blossoms broken up by leafy ferns and surrounded by spindly branches of waxflower. The bouquet was truly stunning.

And as for the glow of pride on Virgil’s face? Absolutely breathtaking.

‘I think I’m happy with it,’ Virgil said nonchalantly, though the excitement hidden behind his tone rang loudly in Roman’s ears.

‘This is amazing, Virgil,’ he gushed, entirely sincere. ‘You’re a natural!’

Virgil bit his lip, stifling what Roman knew would have been a bright grin. He notably did not refuse the compliment.

‘Um, do you mind if I…’ Virgil brought his phone out from his pocket and opened the camera app, showing the screen to Roman with an eyebrow raised in question. ‘Kinda wanna show Grandma later,’ he admitted with a shy smile.

‘Of course,’ Roman held his hands out to the arrangement in invitation and stepped back so that he would not interrupt the photoshoot.

He watched from the sidelines as Virgil tiptoed around the workbench to find good angles, taking a few pictures of his work. Once the phone was placed back in his pocket, he turned back to Roman with a lopsided smile. ‘Thank you.’

Roman was fully and wholeheartedly smitten.

‘Don’t thank me before I’ve paid.’ Roman took his wallet out and waved it with a mock-frown of disapproval. For all of his years of acting classes, though, he could not wipe the smile off of his face. ‘That’s not a very sound business practice.’

Virgil shook his head lightly but moved back to the front desk carrying the arrangement with him. He rang up the numbers on the mechanical till quickly and Roman paid with a soft smile.

‘So,’ Roman said after Virgil had given him his hand-written receipt. He leaned toward Virgil slightly and delighted in the way Virgil mirrored him, bringing them even closer. ‘I don’t suppose a mysterious, beautiful stranger such as yourself would want to -’

Primadonna by MARINA suddenly blared from Roman’s pocket.

He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling a blush stain his cheeks. Though his smile still did not falter.

‘Very fitting ringtone,’ Virgil teased, his voice strained with concealed laughter.

Roman opened his eyes and sent a weak glare to Virgil even as his cheeks ached from smiling so much. He took his phone from his pocket to silence it, seeing that it was Remy’s contact flashing up on the screen - then his expression finally dropped as he saw the time.

‘Oh, fuck!’ His next client was due in five minutes.

‘You okay?’ Virgil asked shakily, clearly anxious by the sudden shift in mood.

‘Everything’s okay,’ Roman quickly assured, ‘but I really have to go, I’m running late.’ He shoved his phone, wallet and receipt into his pockets and pulled the flower arrangement to his chest protectively.

Virgil had stiffened. Evidently his defences were rising again due to the sudden change.

‘I really do have to go, I’m sorry. Seriously,’ Roman paused with a sigh as he gazed over Virgil’s beautiful face once more, ‘you have no idea how sorry.’

‘Yeah, of course,’ Virgil nodded in agreement, but his voice was as quiet as it had been when Roman first came in however long ago. His disappointment was painfully obvious.

‘I’ll be back later this week,’ Roman promised as he reluctantly made his way to the door. There was absolutely no reality where Roman would not come looking for this enigmatic emo again. ‘I look forward to seeing you soon, my chemical romance!’ The doorbell jingled overhead as he rushed out of the door and called behind him, ‘Give my best to Céleste!’

Roman darted through the streets with a sharp stab of regret piercing his chest, though he really could not have afforded to indulge his infatuation much longer. He was a professional artist, he had to be back in time for his client.

Being incredibly protective over his cherished flower arrangement, Roman made it back to the studio in record time. It was not the first instance in which his high stamina had saved him face.

Panting for breath, Roman peered into the front window of the parlour and winced at the look of rage on the receptionist’s face as he sent a choice hand gesture to Roman from the other side of the glass.

‘Get your arse in here, Prince!’ Remy’s muffled yell met his ears.

Accepting that he would have to make a Starbucks run later to make up for his tardiness, Roman shuffled over to the glass door. He cradled Virgil’s arrangement in one arm as he reached for the door handle, then paused.

In his reflection, he noticed the green carnation from earlier still sat behind his ear. It looked utterly ridiculous. He had apparently been running around town with a massive green flower protruding from the side of his head.

In any other circumstance, he would have felt embarrassed. But the memory of Virgil’s huffy giggles played in his head, and all Roman could feel was giddy.

He pushed into the parlour with a wide grin that quite probably made him look like even more of a fool.

He didn’t care.

oOo

Inspired by a prompt from @writersmonth

Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! ♡

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[the32ndbeat]

𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣.𝐲𝐧 - [ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 ]

pairing: stalker!jaehyun x fem!reader ( ft haechan and loona’s haseul )

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mentions of BDSM and mature themes

a/n: this is kinda short but I hope you guys like the first part of the ‘only you’ series!

masterlist

You were like a breath of fresh air and something like an alluring enigma amongst the common folk the moment you stepped through those doors. Your hair is swept up into a loose bun with stray locks falling around your face, framing it in the most beautiful way possible. The white cotton shirt you’re wearing is sheer and I can almost see the outline of your bra if only you weren’t wearing a cardigan over it but it’s ok. It looks flattering on you and does nothing to detract you from your beauty.

There is a hint of a smile on your lips, the sunshine illuminating the side of your face and bringing out the liveliness in your eyes that I rarely see among people these days. As you mutter your apologies and slide past an old man who has been staring at the same hammer for the last ten minutes, you exude grace even just by the way you walk and hold yourself.

“Hi, do you work here?”

It takes me a moment to register the fact that you are actually in front of me, looking me in the eye and talking to me. Your voice is as angelic and beautiful as you are, almost like music to my ears. I can already imagine how it would sound when I take you to bed and thinking about it makes me all tingly in the inside. I tap on the brass name tag pinned to my shirt and gesture towards the tool belt I have hanging loosely on my waist. Realisation dawns upon you, followed closely by mortification.

You smack yourself on your forehead, an embarrassed giggle escaping from those cute lips that I want on mine.

“I’m so sorry, that was so stupid of me…” You say and you squint to look at the tiny black letters on the name tag. “Jaehyun.”

“It’s completely alright. We all have moments like that,” I laugh and a smile tugs on your lips.

“It happens so much more often for me though.” You sigh and I wonder if anyone has ever made you feel like you’re any less intelligent than the average person. The thought of that makes me annoyed but I don’t dwell on it.

“Anyways, I was wondering if you guys sell ropes and duct tape here?”

Ropes and duct tape? My, my. What could you possibly need them for?

The question is itching at the back of my mind but I push it away as I flash you a bright grin.

“We do. Right this way.” I turn and you follow behind me.

Manoeuvring between shelves and people, we finally reach the rope section and it takes you a moment to get past a burly man blocking the aisle. He checks you out with those leery eyes of his as you walked towards me and internally I feel irritation creeping in. Creeps like that don’t deserve to look at you that way. You should be respected and men like that don’t respect women like you. I try not to think of how many times this must have happened to you without your notice as I gesture towards the spools of rope of all thickness and colours.

“We’ve got a wide selection here and you’re free to choose whichever you want and however long you want it.”

“Wow, you guys have every kind of rope here.” You said, amazement written all over your face as you grazed your fingers over the spools.

“Yeah, kind of essential since we are a hardware store after all.” I reply. How would those fingers feel on me?

You laugh and there it is again, that smile of an angel. You are so unlike other girls as cliche as that sounds and I can’t help but want to know more about you. Just who are you?

“You’re right. I ask some of the weirdest and most obvious questions ever sometimes, don’t mind me.”

I’d never mind if it’s you.

“I won’t, don’t worry.” I smile as I stuff my hands into my pocket and watch you take your pick of which rope to purchase. As you walked up and down the aisle, I can’t help but notice how snug those jeans looked on you. They look gorgeous on you, bringing out the shapeliness of your legs. When you turn your back to me, I try not to let my eyes drift down to your bottom.

“I’ll have about ten metres of this one!” You declare with a satisfied smile after a moment of deliberation, patting a spool of thin, straw rope.

“Alright,” I pull out a pair of scissors and measuring tape from my tool belt and get to cutting the rope.

“If you’re wondering why I’m buying rope and duct tape, I can assure you I’m not a kidnapper. I just realised how my shopping list could give you the wrong idea.” You say suddenly with a nervous chuckle and I raise my eyebrow at you.

You see the curious look on my face and continue, “Neither am I engaging in…BDSM… This isn’t a fifty shades of grey thing.” The flustered expression on your face is so cute, my heart could burst. What a cute and pretty face with such mature thoughts. Nobody said anything about fifty shades but here you are, assuming that was what I thought of. I wonder, just how dirty your brain actually is and realise with a start that you probably want me to know that you harbour such naughty thoughts so that’s why you said what you said.

I couldn’t hold back the chuckle at the back of my throat as I ask, “Then what is it?”

“I’m actually an architecture student at the local college nearby.” You say and I detect a hint of pride in your voice. You want to impress me - I can tell with that overly bright smile of yours when you said that.

“That’s amazing. Architecture must be pretty hardcore to study,” I say as I loop the cut rope over my elbow.

“It is,” you roll your eyes and groan. “I’m only a freshman and I haven’t even been here half a semester and I’m already dying.”

I laugh softly at your words and you smile. You like the attention I’m giving you.

“Well, it’s only going to get worse so I suggest taking it easy…” I trail off.

“Y/n.” You beam at me and I find myself replaying the sound of your name over and over in my head.

Y/n. Y/n. Y/n. What a charming name.

I grab some duct tape for you off the shelves and we head to the cash register which was as usual unattended to. Normally, I would have given Haechan a piece of my mind for his negligence again but this time, I couldn’t be more grateful.

“Is that all you’re purchasing for today, y/n?” I ask as I scan your items. I love the way your name rolls off my tongue, I could say it a thousand times and never get sick of it.

“Yup! Can’t really afford anything else at the moment either but I’ll probably be back when I need more supplies.” You sigh before adding, “College kid things.”

I’ve never been to college but I nod in an understanding way anyways and you grin.

“It’s just so tough these days, you know? Student loans and all plus the costs of living in the city? Insane.”

“Insane, indeed.” I repeat after you and as you hand me your credit card, our fingers touch briefly. Did you do that on purpose?

I take a good look at your credit card as you were staring out at the streets, seemingly preoccupied with a child who was chasing a flock of pigeons.

Y/n l/n.  

Hm, you could have given me cash but you gave me your credit card instead. You want me to know your name, not just your first name but also your last. I see what you’re doing.

I smile to myself as I proceed with the transaction. Bagging up your purchase, I pass them over to you and you say thank you. As you head out onto the street, you turn back and give me another of your dazzling smiles and I feel my heart stutter. How do you already have this effect on me?

I watch you glide down the streets outside with your hair flowing in the wind and the sunlight bringing out the brightness and liveliness in your eyes. The group of girls walking by can’t even hold a candle to you and as you walk past them, they regard you with envious looks which I can’t blame them for. You look simply beautiful.

Once you are out of sight, I whip out my phone.

Y/n l/n. Architecture student.

First, I open up instagram. A quick search of your name doesn’t yield any results. Huh, figures. I try searching up your college instead and this time, I’m slightly more successful.

I find the architecture faculty’s instagram page instead.

A simple scroll down the page shows me a freshmen group photo and I easily locate you within a heartbeat. How could I not?

In the list of tagged usernames, I find yours and…

Bingo.

I’m at your instagram profile and I’m shocked to find it on public mode. You’re not very cautious online and I’m not sure if your parents ever taught you about staying safe on the internet but even if they did, you clearly didn’t take them very seriously. I understand why you left it on public though. You want to be seen and to be heard. Well, here I am.

Barely a minute into looking through your instagram, I already have to control myself. The pictures you take are extremely flattering and you look exceptional in every single of one of them even though some of your post captions say otherwise.

I see a picture of a room’s interior from the corner of my eye and I click on it.

It’s a picture of you and another girl which I presume must be your roommate in a small room that looked more like a broom closet than an actual room. The captions say ‘Move-in day! Super excited and unfortunate to be in the same dorm as Haseul ugh ( jk love you )’

I smile despite myself. How cute.

You have a goofy smile on your face, your friend has her arms around your waist and the two of you look so happy. Yet, I find myself looking at something else instead.

Your window.

(part 2)

thank you to @ihearttbz​ for helping me to proofread this! ily ><

tagging: @hae-sicheng​ @soothingjae​ 

do send me an ask or pm if you want to be included in the taglist for the next part! 

[niksixx]

Number 73

~Part 2!!! Read Part 1 first please!!!~ 

Requested: By many of you 

Pairing: Axl Rose x Female Reader 

Description: A continuation of part 1!! This fic takes place over the course of about two months. (It’s most likely unrealistic, but when is fanfiction ever real? This also has 2,634 words!!!! I got so carried away lmao ENJOY.) 

Warning: Some cursing and mentions of sex (no smut...yet)

A/N: R E B L O G :) 

*GIF is NOT mine. Found it on Google, so credit goes to the owner!* 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I knew he was an asshole, but fuck that’s cold.”

Nodding at your best friend, you bend down to take a sip of your lukewarm coffee, shrugging. It’s been two days since you last saw Axl. The douchebag was all you could think about; Not even the sex you’d had.

You couldn’t fully place the blame on him. You were naive to think you’d mean anything to him, changing anything between the two of you. Like he said, you were just number seventy-three.

“Was it good at least?”

You grin, fighting the urge to spill all the details. “Hate sex is always good, Y/B/F, but hate sex with Axl? Unbeatable.”

She chuckles. “How many girls do you think he’s fucked since you?”

You think for a moment. “Well, I was seventy-three, so I’d say he’s probably at about seventy-eight now. I’m not mad that he has a lot of sex. I’m pissed off that I let myself be used by a man that doesn’t care about me. I wish other girls could see that, too.”

Commitment wasn’t in Axl’s vocabulary. He simply couldn’t bring himself to be loyal. In the years that you’d known the Guns N’ Roses singer, he’d never been in a relationship. Girls were simply his playthings. They served no purpose to him other than pleasure.

Still, even with his mood swings and deplorable attitude, you couldn’t deny your attraction. But you’d think twice about letting the redhead anywhere near you or your body. You wouldn’t be vulnerable. Not again.

On the way home to your house, you drop off Y/B/F. Before she exits the car, she turns to you, the corners of her mouth raised in a smirk. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“About what?” You ask, fixing your sunglasses in the rearview mirror.

She gives you a look. “Duh, about Axl. He humiliated you. He fucked you and threw you aside like you were nothing. If I were you, I’d give him a taste of his own medicine.”

You drum your fingers on the steering wheel, gears turning in your head. She had a point. “What, like, I should get even?”

Y/B/F shakes her head, eyes wild, and smiles wide. “Oh no, honey. You’re not just going to get even. You’re going to beat him at his own damn game.”

~~~

“Y/N?” Steven yawns, scratching his head as you push past him into the GNR apartment. Glass bottles and cigarettes litter the floor from last night’s party, and the place reeks of alcohol, smoke, and sweat. “What are you doing here?” He follows your eyes to the floor, wincing. “Sorry, I actually just woke up. Axl and Duff started cleaning but they went out to get pizza for lunch.”

“That’s actually perfect,” You’ve been over the apartment plenty of times before, almost as if it’s your own. The boys needed to find their own respective places, though, as four out of the five were ready to settle down. Grabbing a trash bag, you help Steven clean up the rest of the mess. “Look, I need your help. I trust you the most.”

Steven snickers. “Oh, no. Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m not the most reliable.”

“Maybe not,” you say, hands firm on your hips. “But I trust you to keep your mouth shut.”

Steven groans, taking a deep breath before situating himself on the couch. He waves his hand, “Proceed.”

“You all know Axl and I can’t stand each other,” Steven laughs heartily and you shoot him a hard look. “And after a long few days of thinking, I decided that what I hate, even more than Axl, is being used.”

“Yeah, he told me about your little uh…” He makes a face. “I know you had sex, let’s put it that way. You were number seventy-three, he wrote it down.”

“I’m sure I was the topic of--wait,” You furrow your brows, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “Did you say he wrote it down?”

Steven nods. “Of course he wrote it down. How else would he keep track of all the girls he’s fucked? All the names are in a little brown book under his bed.” Steven’s eyes go wide, realizing his mistake. “I definitely shouldn’t have said that.”

Before Steven can react, you run down the hall and into Axl’s room, rummaging under his bed before your fingers graze a leather cover. You pull it out and flip to the most recent page, and there scribbled in black ink is your name, along with seven other girls’ names from the previous weekend.

“Son of a bitch,” you whisper, thumbing through the other pages. “Shelly Neilson, Diana Fox, Cait Burke, Jade Nichols, Ruby Thompson…”

“Wait a minute,” Steven says, peering over your shoulder. His jaw clenches as he rereads the last name. “Ruby Thompson?”

“What? She an ex or something?” You ask, skimming the first few pages, eyes bulging at the dates. “This book goes back seven years ago. Jesus, Axl.”

You feel Steven’s body tense beside you. You turn, and his face is stone-like. “Ruby Thompson is my goddamn cousin.” Mouth agape, you watch as Steven runs a hand over his face. “That fucking bastard. No wonder he never let any of us see this book.”

“Uh, what’s going on?”

You turn toward the doorway where Slash and his wife stand, eyeing you suspiciously. You give Steven a sympathetic look before turning back toward the door. “I need to find a way to get back at Axl for treating me like shit.”

“Look, I’m not defending him,” Slash begins, earning a warning look from his wife. “But you knew his track record and you still let him fuck you?”

“Okay, technically, because I rode him, I fucked him,” Slash and Steven snicker. “And yes, it was stupid, I realize that now. Having sex with him wasn’t going to fix any animosity between us. But he knows me personally, and he fucking hurt me. I won’t let him get away with it. Not this time.”

“So what’s your plan?” asks Steven.

“That’s why I came here,” you sigh, clutching the book to your chest. “I need your help.”

Slash thinks for a moment. “What does Axl hate more than anything in the world?”

Steven chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “A lot of things. Competition. Second place. Being used,” Steven shoots you a wink. “And Y/N.”

“Exactly. Axl prides himself on having the most sex out of his whole friend group, right?,” Slash says, and his wife grins wickedly when she catches on.

“If we can keep Axl from having sex for a few weeks, that will give you a chance to reach his body count. He hates when others are good at something he’s good at. ” She says. Slash offers an impressive look. “Y/N, what’s your count?”

Your face flushes, and the two men glance at you expectantly. “Seventeen.”

Steven grimaces. “Seriously? We’re going to need at least a month, maybe more.”

“Hey,” Steven cowers when Slash’s wife pins him with a look. “In this house, we don’t shame women for liking sex and having sex just as much as men do. And compared to some men, seventeen is nothing.”

You send her a smile as a thank you. She nods back, grinning proudly.

“Alright, look,” Steven says, lips curling back in a quick smile. “I have three cousins who would love to help you get back at Axl. He crashed the first one’s car, stole money from the second, and slept with the third’s girlfriend. Come to think of it, she might actually be in here,” Steven reads through the book until he stops on a name. “Yep. Here she is. Misty Evans,” he snaps the book closed. “That motherfucker.”

“I have a brother you can use,” Slash’s wife grins. “And he has a lot of friends.” She wiggles her eyebrows excitedly.

“Okay, okay, hold on,” Slash holds up his hands. “It’s a good plan and all, but how in the hell are we going to stop Axl from having sex?”

~~~

73.

For two months, he was stuck at number 73.

Which was, by far, the best sex of his life.

And it just so happens it was with the person he hated most in the world.

Axl couldn’t get it out of his head. The way your eyes looked him up and down, daring him to leave and begging him to stay at the same time. Your soft lips that he was desperate to kiss again and feel on his skin. The breathy moans that were music to his ears. He’d be breaking his rule if he slept with you again, but Axl’s craving for your body had him considering wiping out the rule altogether.

His attempts to get you off his mind continued to fail as more and more women began to reject his advances. One minute he’d strike up a conversation, and the girls would be all for it, but as he returned from the bathroom or from a quick smoke break or the bar with another drink, they avoided him. Shot him dirty looks. Pretended they weren’t just all over him a few minutes prior. He didn’t understand, and it was driving him crazy.

Little does he know, whenever he leaves, you take his place, quickly showing the girls Axl’s book that hides in your purse, before urging them to stay away. So far, every girl that he’s tried to woo into his bed has shunned him. Many of the girls recognize their own friends in Axl’s book, and they promise you to stay away from him. It was dirty, it was evil, but no one ever wins by playing a fair game.

While he was constantly facing rejection, you were thriving. Axl noticed that whenever you came out with the group, men flocked to you instantly, more than they had before.  You’d barely said three words to him since the night you’d slept together, and hadn’t even looked him in the eye.

He’d buy you drinks, only for you to mutter a quick thanks without returning the favor. Despite not being the best dancer, he’d offer you his hand at the clubs, only to be met with laughter from his bandmates as you accepted another man’s offer. And what blew his mind? Many of the guys looked...familiar.

From his seat at the booth, Axl could see a man shamelessly flirting with you at the bar. He grit his teeth, hand clenching around the bottle in front of him.

“Uh, dude?” Duff signals to the beer. “If you want to practice your chokehold, I’m sure there are plenty of chicks in here who would be more than willing to help you out, if you know what I mean.”

Axl’s eyes never left you. “What the hell is going on with Y/N?”

“What do you mean?” Steven asks innocently, shooting Slash a sly grin. “She’s having a drink at the bar.”

Axl turns to Steven, narrowing his eyes. “I can see that, you dumbass. I mean, why the hell hasn’t she spoken to me?”

“The hell do you care?” Izzy answers, taking a swig of his tequila. “You hate each other anyway.”

“I just don’t think I’ve ever seen her so...relaxed.” Axl remarks, bringing his beer to his lips.

“I mean, I’d be too if I was having as much sex as she was,” Slash grins, dropping a teasing wink in his wife’s direction.

Axl pauses, brows drawn together. “What the fuck do you mean?”

Hesitantly, Slash’s wife clears her throat, chiming into the conversation for the first time that night. “Alright, look, this does not leave the table, hear me?” When everyone nods, she continues. “I promised I’d keep this to myself, but Y/N’s had sex with twenty guys in the past five days.”

Axl’s eyes nearly roll out of his head when the table laughs. He seems to have missed what was funny.

“No shit!” Duff laughs, clapping his hands together.

“That’s fucking impressive,” Izzy smirks.

“So what does that bring her count to total?” Steven asks, fully aware of Axl’s bright red face. He laughs to himself. The singer was hopeless, making it way too easy for the group to fuck with him.

“Seventy bodies,” Slash’s wife cocks her head to the side. Something about her words, her gesture, is taunting. “How many did you say you had again, Axl?”

“Seventy-three,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Wait,” Izzy and Slash say together, “You haven’t fucked anyone since Y/N?”

“Dude, that was over two months ago,” Duff says in a teasing manner.

“It’s not like I haven’t fucking tried!” Axl exclaims, slamming his palm down on the table. He takes a deep breath, finding his composure, and lowers his voice. “I keep getting rejected and I don’t fucking know why.”

“Oh, the horror,” Izzy says, rolling his eyes. “All will be right in the world when Axl finds some random chick to bang.”

Slash and his wife snicker and share a look. Axl shakes his head. He senses something is wrong, but he can’t call anyone out without proof.

Something about you having almost the same amount of bodies as him didn’t sit right. No one in his life even came close. Then again, no one was so obsessed with sex like Axl was. No one was so open about their sex life.

Against his better judgment, Axl finds himself striding toward the bar, visibly irritated as the man next to you rests his palm right above your ass. Axl grabs the man’s wrist and pulls it from your body, pushing him away from you. He ignores the man’s protests, throws back the rest of whatever piss warm beer the dude had been drinking, flips him off, before turning back to you.

The shock on your face is evident. “There is something seriously wrong with you. What the hell, Axl?”

“Seventy bodies?” Axl says, voice condescending. “Some prostitutes don’t even have that many.”

Your blood boils and you swear to yourself you see red. The audacity of this man to shame you. “I see you’re still a dick. What the hell does it matter to you, huh? What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” Axl’s laugh is light, breathy, as he restrains himself from screaming. “My problem is that I haven’t fucked something in two months. I’m going fucking feral.”

“Seems like a you problem,” you retort, puckering your lips before taking a drink. Axl’s book suddenly feels heavy in your purse. You sneak a look to make sure the purse is properly zipped before glancing back to the fuming redhead. “What would you like me to do about it?”

It all comes out in a rush. “I don’t know! Suck my dick, ride me, do something!” Axl cringes when you giggle, face heating. Holy fucking desperate.

“Are you...is Axl Rose...begging?”

He throws his head back in annoyance. This wasn’t going as planned. “I--no. Fuck. Ignore that. Can’t we just go back to my place or something?”

“I thought you didn’t fuck the same girl twice?” You remind him of his words, and you can tell by his face he regrets saying them.

But he remains cool, standing up straight, all the while contradicting his previous statement. “I don’t.”

Finishing your drink, you set it to the side. Batting your lashes, you step forward, a mere centimeter apart from Axl’s face. His breath is raggedy, lips parted, and you see it coming. He leans forward to kiss you, but you’re too quick. Brushing your lips against his ear, palm flat against his chest, you utter the words as confidence floods your veins. “If you don’t want the same pussy twice, then what makes you think I want the same dick twice?”

[tamorasky]

Cursing Sharp Stones Chapter 2

Summary: It wasn’t uncommon for the women to be eventually cast aside, Elsa knew this all too well. Yet was unable to protect her sister.

Rating: T

Relationship: Elsa/Honeymaren, Kristoff/Anna (background)

Canadian Frontier AU

Words: 2,583

Part 2 of Mistress Anna

AO3

Tags: Canadian Frontier AU, Metis Culture, Friends to Lovers, Illness, Colonization/Colonialism.

Her bottom hurts as the cart rocks slowly side-to-side. She shifts her weight to relieve some of the pain from one side of her body. Elsa resists the urge to ask the man next to her for longer until they reach their destination, not wanting to sound like her sister.

“Have you heard from Anna yet?” The blonde man inquires, his eyes focusing on the road in front of him. Elsa glances to Kristoff, who is slouching slightly as his forearms rest on his thighs, the reigns hanging loosely from his hand.

She smiles at him knowingly. “I have; she told me to say ‘hello’ to you.” A small smile crosses Kristoff’s features. The brunette woman suppresses a smile at his response. It is no small secret between Elsa and Kristoff’s older sister, Angelique, that the man next to her is hopelessly in love with Anna.

Elsa rolls up the sleeves of her blouse, wishing she could be rid of the garment during the hot June day. She and Kristoff are practically siblings. The act would not bother him. But also knows she would be on the receiving end of Iduna’s switch if her mother found out about her indecency.

Kristoff mimics Elsa’s action, rolling the sleeves of his tan shirt to his elbows. “Make sure to tell her I say ‘hello’ back. Is she having a good time in Arendelle?”

“She is. Her maid at our father’s house is apparently a little gruff but is well-meaning.” Elsa responds, deciding to leave out her sister’s mention of a Mr. Westergaard, not wanting to cause Kristoff unnecessary worry.

“I am glad to hear she is doing well. Ma and the girls were concerned when they heard Anna was going to Arendelle.” The young man says.

“Why are we going to the Cree encampment?” Elsa inquires, changing the subject. She is unaware why the pair of them were leaving Ahtohallan for the day. Kristoff had shown up at the river lot that morning, insisting she joined him on a journey.

“I have a connection at the encampment for pelts.” Kristoff states. The young woman raises a brow at him, knowing Kristoff is capable enough to trap beavers and trade them by himself. The blonde man sighs, observing her confusion. “He’s a better hunter than I am, and the Hudson’s Bay pays me better for the furs than they would him.”

“You two are breaking the law,” Elsa states, glancing up at the canopy of pine trees providing them with sporadic shade.

Kristoff shrugs. “So does the Hudson’s Bay.”

“Yo-.” She sighs, knowing that he is right. It is something they never discuss at their house, out of fear that Iduna will say something to Agnar, and Anna never cared for trade politics, always wanting to remain in blissful ignorance.

Glancing up at the sky, Elsa observes smoke rising from the treeline, wondering if that is perhaps where they are travelling to. Kristoff guides the horse towards the spot, confirming Elsa’s suspicions.

The encampment is surrounded by pine and birch trees, seven tipis nestled between each tree. Kristoff guides the horses to the side of the beaten path, making Elsa’s departure from her side of the wagon impossible. She watches as Kristoff hoists himself from the cart, making his way to the back of the cart as Elsa shifts to where he had sat only moments ago. She slides off of the cart, grunting as her feet hit the earth with some force.

Elsa places her hand on the shaft of the cart, waiting as Kristoff grabs a few satchels of tobacco out of the wagon. As he grabs the small packages, the blonde man comes to Elsa’s side, offering her a smile before meandering towards the village. She does not offer to help carry the sachels, knowing she should not touch the tobacco as she is nearly three days into her cycle.

The young woman follows after Kristoff from a slight distance, watching as children flock to Kristoff’s side as they enter the encampment. The children tug on his clothes, trying to gain his attention by yelling and showing him tricks.

Elsa cannot help but smile at his interactions with each child. With four nieces and nephews, Kristoff had plenty of experience with children. As well as every community or church event they attended in Ahtohallan, Anna and Kristoff are always left to care for the young children. Anna always believed it was due to their ability to keep children entertained. But Elsa has remained convinced that it is a plot by the young mothers to push the two into marriage.

The two walk through the encampment, smiling at the people they pass as they move towards the small encampment's northern point. A young man, perhaps Anna’s age, stands next to a travois, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed as he stares pensively at the ground.

The brunette man glances up from the ground, removing himself from the travois to greet Kristoff and Elsa. As the young man reaches Kristoff, shaking hands before pulling one another into a hug, their laughter echoing throughout the encampment.

Elsa stands awkwardly behind them, her hands folded in front of her as she stares up at the sky, avoiding staring at the men in front of her. Her eyes follow the clouds passing in the sky as the two men talk with one another.

Kristoff calls out to her, taking her attention away from the sky back to the men. The brunette man’s gaze meets Elsa’s, offering the young woman a smile. Kristoff steps off to the side, waiting for Elsa to stand next to him.  

The brunette woman steps forward, extending her hand out towards the stranger, who takes her hand. “I am Elsa Arneson.”

“Nice to meet you. I am Otêhtapiw. But feel free to call me Ryder.” The Cree man shakes her hand, withdrawing from her. “I work with Kristoff whenever he is in the territory.”

“I am not gone that often.” Kristoff rolls his eyes, nudging the younger man with his shoulder. Ryder chuckles in response, hitting the blond man in the bicep. Elsa grins at the interaction, never having seen Kristoff act this way around anyone else but herself and Anna, not even his younger adopted brother.

“You ready to see the yield?” Ryder inquires, wiping his hands on his trousers. He turns from the pair, walking further into the encampment.

“Yeah, let’s see what you caught.” Kristoff agrees, following after the other man. Elsa trails after the two men into the bush, stepping out of the way of children racing through the camp.

She increases her pace to catch up with Kristoff, walking beside the man. “How do you know this guy?”

“Pa used to bring Louis and me to the encampment to trade with the tribe as children. Since Louis started working at Fort Carleton, it has been just Pa and I.” Kristoff shrugs.

“I did not know you came here often.” Elsa raises a brow. “I thought that all your free time was spent wasting time with Anna.”

She smiles as Kristoff’s cheek become flush, glancing away from the young woman with a cough. Elsa would never tire of teasing him for his feelings towards her sister.

The trio walk to the edge of the encampment, where one tipi is nestled against the trees. A lone woman sits on the ground, cleaning the animal skin in front of her. Various pelts hang on a wooden rack, drying out in the sun as the woman finishes up.

“Êy! Are you almost done?” Ryder calls out, catching the woman’s attention. Elsa stops at the sight of her, the same woman from the riverbank nearly two weeks ago. Honeymaren.

“If you helped me, instead of pissing off at every chance you get, it would go a lot faster,” Honeymaren spits, returning to her task before muttering audibly. “Fucking tugeye.”

Elsa’s hand fly to her face as a snort emits from her in response to the woman’s cursing. This reaction catches Honeymaren’s attention, causing her to finally look at Elsa and smile at the other brunette.

Honeymaren stands from the ground, taking the pelt with her before hanging it on the rack with the other beaver pelts. Kristoff and Ryder come to stand beside her, asking her various questions about the furs.

After a minute of questions, Honeymaren throws her hands up in the air in frustration. “You two are the traders. You decide which pelts are of better quality!”

Elsa giggles, feeling sympathy towards the Cree woman having to deal with Kristoff and Ryder in nearly every transaction. Honeymaren crosses towards Elsa, wiping her bloodied hands on her rust-coloured skirt.

In a moment, Elsa steps forward, meeting the other woman with a smile. “Honeymaren, right?” delighted as the Cree woman nods in response.

“It is nice to see you again…” Honeymaren trails off, cocking a brow in question. “Elsa?”

“That is correct,” Elsa confirms, glancing back to the men still looking over the pelts, inspecting each one at a painfully slow rate. She rolls her eyes, unable to believe how long it is taking them. “Are they always this meticulous?”

“Unfortunately.” Honeymaren sighs, glancing over her shoulder to the men before facing Elsa again. “Honestly, I do not believe company men can tell the difference between a beaver pelt or a muskrat. But Ryder insists we take our time.”

“Jesus, I thought this was going to be a quick trip.” Elsa groans, glancing up at the sky. She stops talking, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth as she wonders if she is complaining too much.  

Honeymaren’s giggles provide relief to the Metis woman, who glances at Honeymaren with wide eyes. The Cree woman’s hand is balled in front of her mouth as if to stifle her laughter.

“It could be at least another hour.” Honeymaren peers up at Elsa, a glimmer in her chocolate eyes as her laughter dies down. “Would you like to help me with the traps? You know, to pass the time.”

“Traps?” Elsa inquires, intrigued by the woman’s offer.

Honeymaren nods in response, holding her hand out to Elsa. “Come with me.”

Elsa nods, hesitantly taking Honeymaren’s hand into her own, knowing that Stony Cree could be quite affectionate with people they know. The Metis woman allows herself to be guided through the encampment towards the bush, her heart pounding in her chest for an unknown reason.

The two women walk through the forest, ducking under branches to avoid hitting them. Their voices and laughter resound throughout the trees as they inch closer to Honeymaren’s traps.

They encroach onto the rabbit trails, and Honeymaren lets go of Elsa’s hand as they come to the area where the snare is. The Cree woman curses in her native language at the sight of no rabbit, but her trap having been chewed.

“What is it?” Elsa asks, trying to peer over Honeymaren’s shoulder to get a better look at the trap.

“I caught one. See the tracks?” Honeymaren indicates with her hand. She inches over, leaving room for Elsa by her side. The Metis woman goes to the other woman’s side, kneeling on the earth, noticing the indentation on the forest ground. “But he chewed himself free.”

Elsa nods, seeing the bite marks in the snare wood, nodding as Honeymaren further explains the process of snaring rabbits. Elsa clings to every word out of the Cree woman’s mouth, finding the process fascinating.

Honeymaren glances at Elsa questioningly, wondering why the woman in front of her is listening to every word she says with such intensity. The Cree woman does not even realize she has ceased talking as she stares at Elsa.

“My mother never lets me snare rabbits,” Elsa explains her fascination with the instruction.

Honeymarens hums in response, sitting back on her legs. “White mother?”

“White father. Metis mother.” Elsa corrects, resting her hands on her lap. Her fingers brush against the fabric of her trousers. The corner of her mouth twitches, trying to suppress her smile. For the first time in her life, someone did not know who her family was.

“Why not?” Honeymaren questions, her hands running against the forest floor.  

“She thinks it is unladylike. I wanted to learn as a child, but my mother always barred the men in our community from teaching me.” Elsa explains, scratching her nail against her pants. “I think she would prefer me to be more compliant like my sister.”

“Your sister?”

Elsa nods, smiling down to the ground. “Anna. She is at Fort Arendelle with our father.” Her face falls as she begins to bite her bottom lip, her concern for her younger sister’s wellbeing.

“I understand the sentiment,” Honeymaren comments, causing Elsa to glance up at the other woman. “My mother works at the fort for a family. I know how you must be feeling. It is such a strange and dangerous place; you never know if it is truly safe.”

“Precisely, I like to think my father would help Anna. But, I don’t know if he actually would.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Honeymaren states, her gaze slowly taking in Elsa’s appearance. Her long brown hair braided into a single plait, like her own. The young woman thinks it is odd that Elsa wears men’s clothing instead of a skirt or dress.

Elsa shrugs nonchalantly with a sigh. “My father has always been one to look out for himself. He’d be willing to whore Anna or me out to any man if it meant it would elevate his status in life.”

“That is horrible. I am glad you have Kristoff by your side to dissuade your father from using you as a bargaining tool.” Honeymaren sighs as she shakes her head, unable to believe that any father would use a daughter as currency.

“O-oh wait, no Kristoff and I…uh…” Elsa stammers, taken aback by the other woman’s assumption regarding her and Kristoff. “W-We are not together. In any capacity.” Elsa waves around her arms frantically, as if she is clearing smoke around them.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed because you two seem close.”

“We are…close, that is. Just not…in regard to…that.” Elsa feels as if she is speaking louder than needed, clamping her mouth to stop herself from continuing. Deciding that the woman before her did not need to know that her interests do not lie with men.

“I can teach you.” Honeymaren offers, smiling at the other woman as she changes the subject. Elsa’s brows furrow in confusion, not understanding what Honeymaren is offering. The Cree woman looks pointedly towards the snare then back to Elsa. “I even promise not to tell your mother.”

In a moment, the Metis woman understands the offer. Elsa giggles at the promise, covering her mouth with her hand. Withdrawing it, her hand comes to rest on her knee once more. “I would like that.”

Honeymaren stands from the ground, not bothering to wipe the dirt from her skirt or hands as she reaches out to help Elsa stand. Without any hesitation, Elsa takes her new friend’s hand, her knees cracking as she stands.

The two women smile at one another, venturing further into the forest to check Honeymaren’s other traps. As they walk, Elsa tries desperately to ignore her heart pounding in her chest as Honeymaren takes her hand into her own as they continue on their journey.

[rebeldepressed]

My third Tumblr

I don't know why I get bored so easily of everything like everything gets bored of me. I already know the routine in my mind. I'll start this Tumblr to "write it all out" and then forget this blog exists like the other two that are out there somewhere. I know if I dig in my emails I can recover those accounts but fuck it, ya know? My mind is all over the place more than usual. My period is late, my job is cutting my hours, my drinking is getting out of control, my license is suspended, and the guy I kinda am interested in is going to be in an arranged marriage. Life is just confusing at this point. All I want is to sleep so I can shove all the stress away.

Why is it EVERY guy I fall for, in a relationship with, or in a complicated tango dance with have some kind of substance abuse? I know...birds of a feather flock together right? I swear though I don't go looking for it...it just somehow always happens. First was Jarrett who introduced me to Cocaine, MDMA, Xanax, and Acid. Then William who is similar to Jarrett but far worse and introduced to Crack and pills. Jordan introduced me to DMT and Meth. Randy simply got high off weed every day and of course, loved Acid. So to get away from all the men and their bullshit they eventually drag me into I stopped going out, the dating sites, and talking to people except for a very small handful that aren't losers so I can FINALLY just fucking focus on myself. I made a vow. To work, go home, and only go to The Nicks. I say The Nicks because both my best friends are named Nick and live together which I honestly never saw coming for one is a gorgeous jock type while the other is a balding nerd type.

Then here comes Hamza. Jock Nick let his employee stay at his house while he searches for a place to live in my town. Since Hamza moved in it has been a rollercoaster. Don't get me wrong, since Hamza has been staying with the Nicks for 2 months it has been FUN. But he is everything I have been running away from right at my own damn safe place. He drinks every day, he has made out with me and would of course tell me nice things I want to hear only to detach himself later, started bringing cocaine around, bringing girls over to fuck them, etc.

My life is going out of control again...I don't know why I keep letting this pattern happen. I am so tired of it.

[themadauthorshatter]

WELCOME BACK ONE AND ALL!

Welcome back to MY take on Toppat!Charles, the series that gives you... angst and cliffhangers in every chapter, just like Game of Thrones😅.

In case you haven't read them yet here are links to the first three parts, which I recommend you read because the brief recaps don't do them justice.

Part 1:

Part 2:

Part 3:

BRIEF RECAP AND HEADCANON TO FOLLOW FOR THE POST TIME!

After his attack on Burt, Charles has caved and is now open to what Right has to say and vice versa. Henry and Gerneral Galeforce, more Galeforce, have been contacted by the Center for Chaos Containment and offered their men for one Henry Stickmin. Ellie has been good emotional support, but Henry goes against Galeforce and Ellie in order to save his friend.

Got that? Great!👍

So what's the headcanon this week? Well, @triple-threat-toppats and @azuri-the-imperfect-artist have AU's/headcanons that Toppat-ing is in Henry's blood, whether that be biological or otherwise, and we'll be meeting a new character this chapter who ties this all together perfectly😈.

We all good? FANTASTIC!

LET'S DIVE IN!!

We pick up where we left off with Henry outside as a receptionist, of sorts, freaks out that he called, telling everyone on the floor and shouting for an official to take the call.

Through this entire exchange, Henry rolls his eyes at how much of a fan boy the receptionist is, groans that no one can find an official at two' in the moring, and eventually takes a seat and listens as a few mid-ranking officials argue about who gets to talk to him; 10.6 anomaly, he's a pretty big deal to them.

They all fall silent when a man shouts, "Hand 'im over to me."

Henry should be scared, but he's glad that FINALLY someone is on the other end to talk to.

"Mr. Stickmin," says the official. "Nice of you to call."

"Who am I speaking with right now?" Henry asks as he stands up, not at all interested in playing games. (The irony that hit me after I typed that🤦‍♀️😂😂)

The official scoffs, "Not one for banter. I respect that. Son, name's Corporal Bill Bullet, leading official of the Center for Chaos Containment. How can we help you at this hour?"

Henry paces as he continues talking. "You talked to General Rupert Galeforce, right?"

"We did, actually. About you, but you probably already guessed that."

Henry looks back at the toppat orbital station, staring at it as he stays silent. Again, he is not in the mood for games.

Bullet sighs on the other end of the phone. "Guess you calling means you've made you're choice?"

Henry is quiet for a second and swallows a lump in his throat. "What happens if I agree to the terms?"

"Take a guess, kid."

Henry sees flashes of his life if he is in the CCC's custody and groans at the migraine said flashes give him.

"You're quite the interesting person, Henry. Robbing a bank with a bag, breaking out of prison by dogding and throwing bullets before stealinga police car, stealing a diamond by pushing yourself off a bridge, taking down the toppats, and escaping a maximum security complex with barely even a scratch."

Henry bites his tongue as he remembers those moments and their alternative paths INCLUDING the fails.

"But you didn't just get a few scratches, you did? 10.6 is a pretty high rating on our meter. Can't imagine what would happen to a person who causes as much chaos as you."

Henry shakes his head and snaps, "Just tell me!"

Bullet is silent once more, disappointed at how he can't at least tease what is essentially a rabbit walking right into an easily seen trap.

"We'll study the source of your... ability. How one person can live one life before jumping to the next, but existing like he did before that life ended.

"You may be a young man, Henry, but you've probably lived longer and died more than the rest of us put together. Why is that? How, excatly?"

Despite the knot forming in his stomach, Henry nods and hums to let Bullet know he's listening.

"There's also a certain balance to the world, one that shouldn't be bothered, 'less we want to cause A LOT of collateral damage. Lead to a lot of people getting hurt, cause a lot of casualties. You already lost one person you care about. What if you lost all of them?"

Henry gulps as he remembers the complex riot and how a robot was sent to tear down the museum he stole the Tunisian Diamond from.

Any of those people could've easily been Ellie or the General or, if he'd gone down the Toppat route, the entire clan.

Bullet may be manipulating emotionally, but he kind of has a point.

The chaos Henry causes is extremely dangerous, if what we've seen in StD, ItA, FtC, and CtM are any examples. Imagine if he had caused that sort of chaos in a major city, like real world New York or Detroit.

I don't know about you guys, but if something like any of the games happened IRL, all caused by Henry, there would easily be cities flattened to the ground with COUNTLESS fatalities.

"Helloooo? You still with me, Mr. Stickmin?"

Henry snaps out of his stupor and takes a deep breath before talking again. "Promise me you'll help. I want your honest word."

"Which I'll stay good on as long ad you keep your end of the bargain," Bullet retorts. "A quarter of our forces at your disposal to help you get your friend back as long as you turn yourself in to our facility. Deal?"

Henry is silent again, but when he speaks again, he tries something:

"Will I still talk to anyone outside? Send them any letters?"

"Not really. Think the government would handle our research well? Or what you can do?

"Last chance, deal or no deal?"

Henry stares up at the sky, counting the stars and moon, and then watches orbital station drift across the sky, covering part of the moon.

"Sir, we have a situation!" Someone yells on the other end.

Bullet does one if those angry growls or snarls. "Don't keep me waiting on your answer, Henry. Our resources are limited, too. Make your decision and call me back the second you do."

"Sir-"

"I'M COMING!"

The call ends and Henry lets out a sigh as he drops to his knees and then hugging them to his chest, shaking and now doubting whether or not he's making the right choice.

Unbeknownst to him, however, Ellie had followed him when he walked out and is struggling very badly with hiding her tears and sobbing from Henry, who is over a few feet away.

JUMP TO SOME FAN SERVICE!!😍🤩

Er, Charles. Jump to Charles. I SAID CHARLES!!!!!

Charles is mostly done showering, mostly because he's done washing and cleaning himself up, even shaving because he looks better without facial hair, and is now simply standing in the shower and letting the water fall on him.

He can't exactly remember how long it's been since he showered last, but he doesn't bother trying to because it only makes him think about how the government destroyers were blown up and anyone who managed to get on the station was killed as a message to the government and Henry and Ellie, and as an example for Charles, in case he gets any ideas.

He keeps thinking about how Henry looked at him before he went unconscious, how Henry did nothing to help him even though HE could've done something. He had before on missions, so what had stopped him then and there?

"I was wondering the same thing," Right says, though Charles doesn't hear him over the water running.

Charles gasps as he slips to the ground and realizes how he's thinking about his friend, forgetting Right was standing on the other side of the wall and curtain to keep an eye on him, just in case.

"N-no," Charles says to who he thinks is himself. "He... He wouldn't just leave me. None of them would."

Right rolls his eyes at this and steps closer to where he's in front of the curtain, though he does grab a towel. "You know, you talk to yourself a lot. 'S kind of freaky."

Charles curls into himself and into the corner of the shower and covers his ears. "Shut up! Just shut up and leave me alone!"

"How long have you been here?" Right asks as he looks up at the ceiling. "And why isn't Henry here to get you out? Aren't you two supposed to be friends?"

"Stop it!" Charles cries, curling into himself further.

Right smirks and decides to twirs the knife. "He helped that Ellie girl, didn't he? When she needed his help? I wonder if what they say is true? Birds of a feather flock together? They're both criminals, so I wouldn't really blame them for teaming up."

"SHUT YOUR STUPID MOUTH!" Charles screams. "YOU'RE WRONG! ALL OF YOU ARE WRONG! HE'S COMING TO SAVE ME, THEY ALL ARE!"

Right's smirk drops and he raises and eyebrow before drawing back the curtain.

Charles flinches back, covering his head and waiting for the strike.

But it never comes.

He looks up at Right, who's standing and giving him a look that says very clearly, 'I'm getting sick of your shit, stop.'

The two stare at each other for a bit, Charles wide eyed and scared before glaring as hard as he can.

Right keeps his bored expression because while he's probably in the best shape he's been in in a WHILE, Charles has lost at least twenty-five pounds and is cowering in the corner of a shower with long hair and clean shaven face; one lesson they teach you: you don't always need a mirror to shave your face.

The two continue their staring contest until Right slings the towel over his shoulder, takes off his top hat, and reaches into the shower with his cybernetic hand and turns off the water, flicking any off his fingers before stepping back and putting his top hat back on, Charles staring the whole time in case Right attacks him.

Right doesn't, of course, and tosses Charles the towel before pointing to a set of clothes hanging behind him and , just something neat but comfortable, not exactly a sweater and sweat pants, but close enough.

He then walks away until he's facing the door, his back to Charles.

"Hurry up and get dressed. Your room's ready."

Charles dries off and does get dressed, but he's careful to not take his eyes off Right.

First this guy got Charles captured and isolated him from everyone else, and now he's letting Charles shower and have his own room?

What's he up to?

Don't worry, he doesn't talk to himself this time.

Charles finishes putting on the clothes Right gave him, and looks at the towel he'd just hung on the hanger that held his clothes. Then he looks at Right, who's back is still turned.

You know EXACTLY where this is going.

Charles takes down the towel, careful that it doesn't hit the wall, and starts twisting it up as he sneaks up to Right, who either looks down at a wrist watch or checks a pocket watch because now he's getting a little bored.

Just as Charles is about to get the jump on him, Right pivots to face him.

"Good. You're done. It took you long enough."

Charles is absolutely speechless as he goes completely pale his face drops.

"Here, let me take that for you." Right pulls the towel out of Charles's hands and unwinds it. "Shouldn't do this to a wet towel. Could get moldy."

Right nods his head as a 'follow me' and leaves the showers.

Charles remains shell shocked for a minute and tries not to burst into tears at how his plan blew up his his face, but ultimately walks after Right, who strides ahead with a smile on his face.

Think Henry got away with that call? Weeeeeeeelll...

CUT TO THE GOVERNMENT

Galeforce SLAMS his hands on his desk, making Henry jump slightly in his chair and Ellie flinch against the wall, her arms crossed and shoulders hunched.

"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND!? ACCEPTING THE DEAL MADE BY THOSE NUTJOBS!? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?"

Henry's sign is sloppy and fast, but the general still understands it. 'Wanted Charles safe.'

"So do we, Henry, but not by selling one of our best!"

Henry shakes his head and signs again, this time more clearly. 'You can't make me change my mind.'

Ellie speaks up after being silent for so long: "Henry, think about what you're doing."

'Already did. Made up my mind.'

"Son, it's not worth it."

Those words hit Henry harder than they should, making him grit his teeth.

"Trust me. Those CCC guys are nothing but trouble. We can't accept their help."

Henry shoots up to his feet. "I DON'T CARE!" He screams. "CHARLES IS TRAPPED IN SPACE WITH NO ONE TO HELP HIM AND IT'S MY FAULT HE'S UP THERE TO BEGIN WITH, SO LET ME FIX THIS!"

No one talks as Henry pants, falling back into his chair and holdong his head in his hands, pulling slightly at his hair and shaking.

"It's all I can think of doing. It's our only option. I can't think of anything else."

Ellie and Galeforce exchange glances before turning back to Henry, who leans heavily on one hand or arm as he meets their gaze.

"You're sure you know what you're doing?"

Henry looks at them both for a moment while not speaking before nodding slowly. 'I can't think of anything else. The corporal hung up before I could say yes. Someone talked about a 'situation.''

Ellie and Henry stare at each other, the former more puffy eyed than she was last night because this could very well be the last time she sees her friend.

She doesn't want him to leave, but if it's really his choice, who is she to not support him after all he did to help her?

"When do you-"

'I'm going in to visit later. Called back and told them I'd gove my answer AFTER I talked to someone.'

Both look at him incredulously.

"Talk to who?" Galeforce asks as he turns his head to look at Henry through the corner of his eye.

Henry takes in a deep breath through his nose and holds either of his hands at the top of his head, raising them up and down, gesturing a top hat to them.

BACK TO CHARLES

Right leads Charles to the room and watches him walk inside and look around, almost confused because it's been so so long since he'd last been in a normal bedroom. And because there's a chance this could all be a trick.

"Been a while since you had a decent room. Prob'ly nicer than what you're used to."

Charles takes a seat on the bed and keeps his head down, confused and tired of Right's games.

"You don't really believe Henry's gonna save you, do you? It's been a while since the last destroyer was sent and the government has more pilots. You military people are pretty easy to replace. You are just a pilot, after all."

Charles keeps his head down and lets his hair hang; it's obviously grown longer and Right gave him a razor but no scissors.

"Why are you doing this?" Charles asks. "What do you want from me?"

Right fights a smile and approaches Charles, taking a knee infront of him and waiting for the pilot to acknowledge him, which Charles does by picking up his head and meeting his eyes.

BACK TO THE CCC HEADQUARTERS!!!!!

Henry is being led by four guards and Bill Bullet. He hasn't gotten a lot of sleep, but he's good at not showing it.

"Weird request to visit someone before you make your decision. Usually we don't allow visitors." Bullet turns and sees Henry keeping up behind him, zoning out slightly but snapping out of it when he sees him looking. "You're not as talkative as you were on the phone the other night."

'Only way to contact you,' Henry signs.

Bullet smirks a little bit. "You deaf in one of your ears?"

'If I need to, I'll talk. Otherwise, I'll sign. Now where is he?'

Bullet sighs stops at an acrylic wall, seeing a doctor talking to a man.

Henry bristles slightly before calming himself back down.

"Guessing you two haven't talked in a while. I love reunions."

Henry narrows his eyes at Bill and gestures to the room. 'Private?'

"Enough. Don't worry, we won't listen in." Bill then grabs Henry by his jacket lapel and shoves him against the wall, catching the attention of doctor and occupant. "But I'm warning you right now," Bill growls as he leans close to Henry's face. "Try anything funny while you're in there, and I'll make you regret ever being born."

Henry nods and Bullet backs off him, letting him collect himself as the doctor walks out.

"Sir? He's done with his tests. His vitals and mental state are stable. He's also ready to see his visitor."

Bullet sweeps a gesture to the door. "He's all yours, Mr. Stickmin."

Henry nods and enters the room, his eyes on its occupant.

The two stare at each other for a bit, taking in each other's features.

"Hello, Henry."

The man in this room used to be moderately fit, and a REAL charmer, but years spent in the CCC's facility have taken their toll. He's gotten skinnier, his face is wrinkled and sunken in, and his hair, while it's slightly longer than Henry's, is greying and becoming thin. He doesn't look terrible by any means, but he has definitely seen better days.

He has cybernetics for both his arms and one leg, along his spine, neck to tailbone, and in part of his jaw. Where his left eye used to be, the eyelids are closed and flat; he's not even allowed to have a glass eye.

Being overthrown by Reginald Copperbottom, both literally and figuratively, forever left him with a permanent reminder.

The two stare at each other for a little while longer before Henry replies to the notorious worst leader in the toppat clan's history.

"Hi, Dad."

The two continue staring, Henry shuffling in place and Terrence rubbing his neck.

Henry signs, 'How is it here?'

"A hell hole. Nothing to do, no one to talk to, and you only get something when they say you can. Other than that, it's peachy."

Terrence's eye darts to the guards and Bill before moving back to Henry. "Guess what they said was true. You're actually coming here so you can save your friend."

"Yeah," Henry replies after a second.

I know I'm putting in a lot of pauses, but these two don't even send letters to each other, so sharing a room and having a conversation for them is awkward and extremely uncomfortable.

Back on track, Terrence scoffs at Henry's line of thinking, commenting, "And I thought these doctors were crazy. Let me guess: Reggie decided to take something from you because you took something from him? He always was a child."

'Reginald's been in prison since I arrested him.'

"You arrested him?" Terrence repeats as he stands. "The leader of the toppat clan, the most infamous group of bandits and thieves, and you just turned him in to the government? Why didn't you join him, you would've been perfectly fine!"

'Right hand man has my friend, I need to get him back. That's why I'm here.'

Terrence puts his hands on his face and groans. "No. Do not tell me I'm hearing this." He meets eyes with Henry, who nods with a shrug.

"You broke out of prison with a bar from your own cell, stole a diamond on a scooter, and escaped a maximum security prison, but you arrested the leader of the toppat clan, the son of a bitch of did this to me-" Terrence holds his arms out to gesture to his cybernetic body. "- and gave him to the government, but didn't see his lap dog wanting to settle the score or even the odds with you!?"

'A lot goes through my head on missions, okay!?'

Terrence nods, humming cheekily. "I'll bet. Think it would've gone better if you'd used that gun you had? We both know he wasn't going to do anything."

Henry sees himself charging at Right rather than throwing away his gun, but signs back, 'You don't know what he would've done. You haven't seen him.'

Terrence points to a tv in the corner of the room, one right next to the camera. "Saw how he got an upgrade. You can groom and pamper a dog all you want, its bark will still be worse than it's bite."

Henry spots Bill talking to the guards before waving at him and tapping on his wrist, more specifically on a watch. 'Don't take long.'

"Saw their orbital station, too. Like hell you're getting your friend out of space. And like hell sunglasses over there is gonna let you out of his sight if you're serious about that deal."

Henry looks Terrence directly in the eye and nods. 'I know.'

Terrence's face drops as Henry continues.

'During the mission, I hesitated because I was scared he'd kill Charles, my friend. I helped the government by giving them plans, but nothing worked. This is my last option. You are my last option. You weren't around then to tell me what to do, but I need you now because for once I have everything I could ever want, and I'm about to lose it all for being a coward. I know you're not going to like it, or even care, but I just need you to be here when they bring me in. Just be there and tell me I did enough for once, when you're really around. That's all I need right now.'

It's this that makes Terrence drop the "tough loving father" act and makes him realize that this is for real. This is not his son saying, "I made a mistake, fix it for me." This is his son telling him that this is his plan and he needs support to know he's doing the right thing.

Henry is extremely shaky because this is something he does not do with his father. They aren't usually open with each other, as in they do get emotional; toxic masculinity at its finest... and daddy issues.

Regardless, Henry collects himself before signing again.

'I'm going to agree to the terms. If they can send a piece of the ground to space or erase the universe, then they can help me. It's all I can think of doing that'll work.'

Terrence is quiet for a moment, looking at Bill and the guards as they gossip about something before turning back to Henry.

"Are you absolutely sure about this?"

Hebry nods. 'It's all that I can think of that's going to work. Again, if they can send a chunk of land of space or erase the universe, then they can help me.'

Terrence steps back and shakes his head.

"You're going to die here. You know that, right? I'm telling you now it's not worth it."

Henry's face drops.

"Look, I get it. You never were good at keeping friends, but, Henry, I'm telling you, just let this guy go. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life locked in a cage?"

Henry shakes his head as he signs. 'No, but I'm not going to abandon my friend like you abandoned us.'

"I had a clan to run, Henry!" Terrence snaps. "I wanted you to stay, have an easy life, but no. You two just ran off on me!"

'Just because something's easy doesn't always make it right,' Henry signs. He begins signing something else, but stops before continuing. 'Look. I'm accepting the terms. I wanted to tell you now ao you're not disappointed later.'

Henry holds up a hand in farewell and turns to leave, ready to get back to the base and start forming a new plan.

"Henry?"

He turns to see Terrence staring once again, but also sees his throat bobbing, like he's coughing or about to be sick.

"Good... Good luck. Getting your friend back."

Henry's eyes widen and he shakily nods. 'Thanks.'

The two stare at each other like before, but this time they slowly advance towards one another, maneuver their arms until they're in an admittedly awkward, uncomfortable, but welcome embrace; again, emotion is not their strong suit.

"You're going to regret it. Turning yourself in. Life's for living, and you're throwing it away."

Henry pulls back and waves 'goodbye' once more and leaves the room.

"Took you long enough," Bill says as Henry rejoins him. "Have a nice visit?"

Henry narrows his eyes.

"Well, you got your visit. Hope you know how to get into that station."

Henry takes one last look at his father before nodding.

'The terms-'

"Same as advertised," Bill interrupts. "A quarter of our forces as long as you come quietly so we study your ability."

'AFTER my friend is rescued and safe.'

Bill waves him off. "Fine, yes. After your friend's back home and safe." He holds his hand out infront of him and Henry. "What do you say, Henry? Do we have a deal?"

Behind the acrylic, Terrence watches the two of them, his hands against the wall and his eyes on his son.

Henry keeps his eyes on Bill's hand before looking into his eyes. With a mental push, he claps his hand into the corporal's and shakes it, nodding.

"Deal."

Terrence bumps and shakes his head against the wall. "You idiot," he murmurs. "What are you doing?"

AND THAT'S A WRAP ON PART 4!!!!! Oh my goodness, did I enjoy writing this one! A lot of twists and turns and opportunities to just leave you all hanging, I'm not even joking. I haven't really written manipulation or character dynamics like Henry's and Terrence's before, and I think I did pretty well.

Again, check out @multiverse-madness and @azuri-the-imperfect-artist for their Terrence Suave AUs because they are both amazing artists and, honestly, do better with the character than me.😅

For real, all of you, thank you, thank you, thank you, so much for your patience with this one. Like I said in my update post, I have a lot going on in my personal life and just couldn't get in a good creative mindset to do this.

I know we didn't see a lot of Charles this time around, but that's gonna change in Part 5😈

ANYWAY, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!!!!!!

[anika-ann]

Hands Too Cold, but Heart of Gold - Pt.2

The Partnership

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, Matt Murdock x reader (no SR x MM x r)

Word count: 2250

Summary: Avenger!reader AU, love triangle. Daredevil is so-so warming up to the team... some of its members anyway. Steve is too busy being furious with you. Or is he?

Warnings: pissed off Steve, mentions of violence, swearing, fluff, mild angst…? 

Story Masterlist

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If anyone was watching, they probably thought they were high and hallucinating. The quinjet basically landed on water, opening precisely for you to just leave the pier and enter the ramp lash entrance without faltering in your steps. You walked in, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen on your tail, the tension in his shoulders obvious.

“Hi, Elsa. Looking as good as ever. DD, good to see you again,” Tony’s voice welcomed you, confirming your suspicion. Everyone was now here, probably. Wonderful.

“Mr. Stark,” Daredevil acknowledged him with a nod.

You, on the other hand, ignored the greeting. If he was starting with Elsa, you were not about to speak to him unless necessary, even when he told you that you looked good – hell, it had been like an hour since he had seen you. Jerk.

“Wow, look at you, kiddo. Good job. Daredevil, we haven’t met yet-“ Clint stood up from his seat, hand extended.

“Meaning you haven’t stalked me and tried to get me to join your team?”

Clint wasn’t surprised or concerned about the distance the masked man kept, withdrawing his hand easily. “Yep. Name’s Clint Barton.”

The Devil just nodded again, not giving up his own name. Shocker.

“Daredevil. Welcome on board. Hey, our new recruitment expert.” Tasha gave you a significant look saying ‘brace yourself’. You picked up on it immediately.

“Hey, Natasha. Is Steve mad?” you asked innocently despite knowing the answer for sure.

“Yes,” sounded from behind you quietly, a brief warning from the Devil, as the man in question appeared, his footsteps heavy and angry.

“You are in so much trouble, missy!”

You made a face. “Steve, do not call me ‘missy’. It’s the on the top of the bad words list, seriously, who the fuck taught you that?” you teased him lightly, the humour leaving you when you found yourself under his strict gaze. Not just strict; worried. Hurt. “I’m not sorry for turning it off. You weren’t exactly helping.”

“I appreciated it,” Daredevil supported you unexpectedly and you eyed him, fighting a smile, unable to resist the warmth of satisfaction in your chest.

“Yeah, well, the job is done. Congratulation. Now turn it on again, or so help me god, I’ll cuff you with powers-restrictors and you’re sitting this mission out,” Steve grumbled, spinning on his heels, returning to the cockpit without another word.

You blinked in surprise at the harshness, heavy guilt settling in your stomach. Surely it wasn’t such a big deal? No, there hadn’t even been a real danger; Steve wouldn’t be so pissed about something like this, not normally. Something was wrong.

You left Daredevil’s side, making your way after Steve.

“Leave him. He’s just a grumpy old man,” Tony hummed, drinking some energy drink through a straw.

You ignored him. This wasn’t grumpiness, this was anxiety. Steve was anxious about something and it wasn’t you turning off your comms.

You entered the cockpit, hearing Clint trying to socialize with the Devil while Natasha interjected with the plan so the Devil would be brought up to speed.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Anderson,” your captain growled, pretending to be perfectly focused on piloting a plane that could just easily run on autopilot. The tendons in his forearms were so tightened he could cut something with them.

You gulped. Anderson. The spy name you were given by S.H.I.E.L.D. after your real persona had to die. No one on team called you that. Ever.

Crap. This is bad.

You sat down next to him despite his protest.

“That’s too bad. Because-“

“I don’t care about apologies.”

You scoffed. “Good, ‘cause you’re not getting one.”

His statue-like posture shifted and his eyes turned to you for a fraction of a second before returning to staring ahead blankly, pretending to see what was in front of them. He didn’t say a word.

You bit your lip, covering his right hand with yours gently. His fingers twitched, but otherwise he didn’t react to your gesture. You ran your thumb over his knuckles.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on? And don’t try that bullshit about being angry because of me cutting you off. You knew it was a good move. Talk to me, Steve,” you whispered, observing his hard expression, wondering what he was hiding behind it. Steve had always been good at perceiving your emotions – and thanks to the way he had opened to you, it went both ways. But now, he was closing off and you hated it. “Please.”

Steve remained silent. It might seem he didn’t even listen to you, but you could tell he was struggling with something. Steve was… a sweetheart. A kick-ass serum-powered stubborn reckless sweetheart. He cared for people. He worried. And he thought the serum had not only made him the most famous American hero, but also transformed him into Atlas – he believed he needed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders and protect everyone else. You knew that this was why your crush was pointless – he would always saw you as the newbie, as the little sister who needed protection and couldn’t bear the weight of what he was carrying – like for example right now.

“There’s something out of place,” he said quietly and you supressed the rush of joy into your abdomen at his honesty. And silenced the ‘you mean beside the fact the daughter of the Secretary of the Treasury was kidnapped from her private school together with three other girls, taken by a human trafficking ring?’, knowing now was not the time. The Secretary was out of his mind. This would be a STRIKE team mission, but he demanded Captain America and the Avengers. “Something just doesn’t feel right. Maybe paranoia is to getting me-”

The Secretary demanded the Avengers; for some reason, Steve didn’t think it was enough and wanted the Devil on it too; because he had a bad feeling about this. It all made sense now.

You squeezed his hand and he turned it up to catch your hand in his and reciprocate the gesture, not caring he let go of the controller – the plane was still on autopilot then. He really had been sitting here only for show. You mentally rolled your eyes.

“Well, you’re old enough for that, but I don’t think it’s paranoia, Steve.” His blue eyes met yours, allowing you to glimpse at the unsettling uneasiness inside of him. “You have good instincts and you have every right to trust them. I know I do.”

His posture slightly relaxed, the corners of his lips rising just inconspicuously. “Thank you.”

“I’ll keep the irresponsibility to minimum. Even smaller minimum than usual. I promise. I’ll be on the highest alert,” you reassured him softly, sensing his stiffness resolving completely. Oh dear god, this man worried for others so much. He needed something light in his life.

You squeezed his hand one more time, rising to your feet and patting his shoulder, determined to light up the mood by quoting him. “If they hurt me, I’ll hurt them back. And I’ll walk it off if they kill-“

“Don’t say it.”  

His hand shoot up to your wrist, stopping you before you could finish and leave. You met his eyes once more, curling your fingers around his own wrist.

“I’ll be careful, Steve. I promise. Just try to do the same, okay?”

He smiled at the open display of care; it was nothing rare, yet, he would probably always find it precious. He was Captain America, he was meant to worry about others; you could understand why he was moved by someone else taking the role of the concerned friend.

“Go meet the Devil properly. You’re paired with him.”

You blinked in surprise, tilting your head to side. “Why me?”

“ ’Cause he seems to trust you enough to join the mission,” Steve stated, sounding as if it was obvious.

Oh. Okay, you could see his point.

“Are you saying the others don’t trust me then?” you demanded, pretending to be wounded. Maybe not completely pretending. You were the newbie after all, you would understand if they would be reluctant to do so even after the missions you had had together.

“Oh come on, Snowflake. You know we do.”

────── ·❆· ──────

You entered the larger space only to find Daredevil in the company of Clint and Tony. Tasha had probably run him through the basics of the mission and now was getting ready, while the guys were trying to interrogate the temporary addition to the team.

The Devil shot you a brief smile as you appeared and the other men noticed you too.

“But seriously. Is it Lucifer? Or is something like Raphael, like the archangel, and you’re trolling everyone?” Tony demanded and you snorted, the corners of Devil’s lips rising higher.

“No, Mr. Stark. It’s neither. Give up.”

You pated the billionaire’s shoulder. “You should suit up. We’re almost there. Plus I need to talk strategy with my partner.”

Clint grinned at Tony’s shocked expression. The man to be Iron Man gaped at Daredevil, pointing at him accusingly. “That’s not fair! Why do you get to be with the cool one?”

You rolled your eyes at the lame pun while Clint just snickered, getting up to prepare his gear.

“No, seriously. I bet I’m paired with the old man again.”

Daredevil shrugged. “Birds of feather flock together.”

You burst out laughing at the daring man who pointed out Tony’s age.

“Motherf-“

“Language!” you called out, your voice supported by three more, including one from the cockpit. Tony raised his chin, his hand imitating an offended diva gesture, which somehow activated his suit that started wrapping around him.

“Savages, all of you.” He turned his back to you and you approached the Devil, sitting next to him.

“That okay? You being paired with me?” you asked quietly.

“Of course. I get to be with the cool one. Can I ask what your abilities are exactly? Just to know-“

“Sure. Though you pretty much experienced it. I can create and manipulate ice, lower temperature of anything to almost absolute zero. It… can get nasty, but I’m trying to avoid that.”

“Understand. I don’t kill either.”

“I know.” He huffed out a laugh, less wry than you would expect from someone who just found out you had done a lot of reading on them. “You have a very good hearing and you kick ass. Anything else?”

He licked his lips, wavering. “Pretty much everything is amplified. Not just my hearing.”

Your eyes went wide in surprise. What? How— as in everything? Like his vision, sense of touch, sense of smell, taste too? “I’m not sure-“

“Would you like a demonstration?” You nodded without thinking. “Alright. Uhm… your heartbeat-“ just stopped, you wanted to say, because what the fuck- “is slower than average. You’re using a shampoo with… lilac, but there’s something I can’t really place. It’s adding to your aura, which is somehow colder – not because of the temperature, that’s normal, I guess maybe the device under your right ribs has something to with that – but… something cold, fresh.”

You felt your mouth fall open. Holy shit. He… how the hell did he perceive all that? Including the device that kept your body temperature in check?

He extended his hand and hovered over yours on your thigh. You wanted to ask what was he doing, but the answer came before you found the courage.

“Your hands, they are a bit colder and I can feel them… bursting with energy even when you’re not doing anything. It’s— I’m sorry. I’m scaring you. I didn’t want to-“

“It’s okay,” you blurted out, your voice unnaturally high and in stark contrast to his quiet and measured. He was scaring you a little, okay, but you had practically asked him. And you lived with a bunch of strange people, this shouldn’t freak you out, and it didn’t, it was just… “Surprising. But okay. Shocking, maybe. Fascinating. Terrible – how do you live like this? Knowing so much about people?”

You were glad he didn’t mention he could probably see every pore on your skin and- “Jesus, wait, you don’t have an x-ray vision too, do you?”

He chuckled, relaxing as he realized you weren’t scared or offended. “No. No, I don’t have an x-ray vision. And I promise I wouldn’t peek… without your permission.”

You let out incredulous laugh. Did he just… flirt with you?

“Good to know you’re a gentleman, Daredevil.”

“What do I call you?” he asked softly, tilting his head curiously. It was incredibly cute.

“Hm?”

“I know you heard me.”

You shrugged and settled with honesty and light joking. “Anything you want, I guess. Frostbite. Snow Queen. Really, there are number of options.”

“But not Snowflake,” he suspected, his voice falling even lower, sending your heart racing.

“No… uhm, I would rather if you didn’t call me that, yeah. It’s…”

“Too personal. I understand. Anderson?”

“Fake last name. Agent Anderson. What I became after I… died. You can go with that,” you offered, pushing down the unpleasant feeling it gave you.

“You don’t like it.”

“I don’t,” you confirmed with a shrug. Then you offered him to call you your first name, because that made the most sense really.

He just smiled, a boyish smile you wouldn’t expect on a face of man who beat up people in back alleys on regular basis. Then again, you really should know better by now, considering who you worked with.

“I’ll think about it.”  

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Part 3

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Tags: @mermaidxatxheart​ @murdermornings​ @elisaa-shelby​

────── ·❆· ──────

Thank you for reading! Tagging remanis the same; you want in or out, just lemme know. Kudos to you :-*

[aphroditefumes]

Michelangelo- Chapter I: The Wizard of Oz

A/N: Thank you guys soooo much for the positive feedback. I really appreciate all you guys!! And I apologize for such the long wait. Please forgive me! Enjoy!!!

                         “Todo, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”                                  -Dorothy Gale, Judy Garland, The Wizard of Oz

Location: Boys and Girls Club of Harlem, New York, NY Date: Saturday, February 23, 2020 Time: 2:13pm

Young men of deep sepia and enriched coffee-colored hues glistened with sweat gliding down the wide expense of their backs and chests.The swell of their calves along the longevity of their legs defined as they paced to and fro on the glossed court of the Boys and Girls Club of Harlem. Their pecs jumped with every move, their sneakers scuffed as they quickly blocked passes from the opposite team, lips occasionally embedded between their teeth as they remained focused, only to release to spew curses to the dumb decision of their fellow player.

“D, pass the fuckin’ ball!”

The tallest of the bunch, Brooklyn Wright, brows furrowed, his hands wide open in exaggeration to a distracted Deandre “D” Wilkerson, who’s main focus was on the swell and switch of Ansiedad Rojas hips as she entered the gym. His view extended down tightness of her denim clad legs until she found a seat next to her girls on the bleachers, as he was now able to see her light toffee face as she turned and sat down. Her finger twisted in her hair, dimples only faintly making an appearance.

She knew D was checking for her. Her on-again, off-again boyfriend or ‘playa on the team’ as she referred to him around the presence of her friends, amused her with his sudden interest in her after ignoring her calls and texts consecutively since their last interaction last week.  

“Yo, D, leave that girl alone, man,” Alijah Ford leaned against his arms resting on his knees, watching as his friend’s face contorted. He knew how D’s temper could be and knew that D was a man about action and saved talking until afterward, leaving all rationality behind.

“Fuck allat’.” D dismissed him darkly, his hand veins appearing as he squeezed the ball tighter in his grip. “Can’t answer her fuckin phone but can walk around with her ass all out? Nah, she got me all the way fucked up.”

Deandre found a wave of impulse wash over him from the top of his head into the clutches of his fingertips. The veins in his forehead and neck appeared blatantly against his sweaty dark skin, his jaw ticking from the constant clenching and unclenching.

The smirk on Ansiedad’s face never faltered as she always found her sex heating at the mere thought of Deandre getting angry. Whether through the actions of someone else or the actions of herself, mostly done through herself, Ansiedad’s fetish always ended with Deandre in some kind of trouble and herself laid an undone mess within his childhood bedroom. And with her high now heaving, eyes hard, trained on her and only her, she found it was the perfect time to intensify.

She waved seductively before laughing with her friends, biting her lips after their outburst of laughter. She blew a kiss from her glossy lips, somehow tearing her eyes away from D’s brooding figure and into the eyes of Kameron, who along with the other boys had taken attention to the scene in front of them.

Brooklyn furrowed his brows once again, “Fuck she lookin’ at me for?”

“Yeah, nigga,” D’s head snapped towards the boy he had known the longest, “Fuck she lookin’ at you fo’?” Deandre channeled his anger into a source as he walked slowly toward Brooklyn.

“Nigga that’s yo’ girl, ask her yourself!” Brooklyn exclaimed as he watched D move closer. The other boys started moving in as well, preparing to step in between if need be.

“Nah, nigga, I’m asking you.” D’s voice was as deadly as his grip was on the basketball he still possessed. Alijah stepped in front of his body before he could take another step and began to apply pressure to Deandre’s chest, who never faltered his sight on Brooklyn but began pushing Alijah back.“Fuck off me, AJ!”

“Fuck outta hea’, Nigga.” Brooklyn waved him off, not taking Deandre seriously, being used to the unorthodox anger and irrational behavior. Looking at the boys, you would’ve never guessed the two had known one another since the second grade. “I ain’t worried bout’ that girl and from where I’m standing, you don’t need to be either.”

Ansiedad sat with both of her forearms against the bleachers, her ample breast presented to a student that was familiar with in their senior class, Quentin Ward. Her Air Force 1’s rubbed against the smooth skin of his exposed leg in his basketball shorts as she seemingly purred at whatever the boy was spitting.

Suddenly, a flash of orange was sent through the air and toward the bleachers.

Deandre had unknowingly thrown the ball, it was as if his mind was not registering with his actions, the state of his head not safety executed into circumstances.

The ball flew through the air, causing the gathering of Quentin, Ansiedad, and her flock of ladies into a scattering frenzy. The open space then caused the ball to ricochet and bounce onto the unsuspecting nose of Tamara Montgomery. Her nose erupted with blood and her mouth let out a cry.

“Oh, shit.”

“Fuck is wrong witchu’, nigga?” Brooklyn exclaimed. He pushed into Deandre’s heaving chest before hastily jogging over to the crunched body of Tamara. Her book was held up to her face as she tried to hide from the embarrassment she felt at the moment.

“Ay, you aight?”

“I-I’m fine!” sputtered through the blood was the squeak-like reassurance of an flustered Tamara. It was going to take her forever to remove the blood from her fuzzy white sweater and even longer to remove this memory from her brain.

Brooklyn looked over his shoulder at the suspect at large who was currently in a heated argument with Quentin. Alijah once again stood in the middle of the two with now the addition of an instigating Ansiedad. Brooklyn shook his head, hands slightly gripping Tamara textbook, pulling down against her resisting hands to get a look at her nose. “Just let me see, mama.”

Not only was her crush in all his sweaty glory standing over her, his divine voice was calling her ‘mama’, the single most sexiest thing a man could call any woman in which he was dealing with. She definitely wasn’t removing the book now. The book wasn’t the only thing she was clutching for dear life, her thighs and her invisible pearls competed for the number one spot.

“Foreal, I’m good-

Tamara was cut of by the banging of the door from the conjoining training gym against the cemented walls. The loud noise echoed from the gymnasium, causing all noise to cease and all attention to turn towards the source.

He stepped in; Massive stature with sweat rippling down his glorious deep cedar skin, curly tendrils of chest hair glistening with seeming shiny over-glaze, shoulders pulled back and focused eyes like a black panther stalking down it’s prey. His towering height steadying his incredible 235 lbs of of mass and muscle, nostrils flared and thick lips producing breath stabling huffs from moments off the treadmill. Said nostrils exhaled smoke, his body not only oozing marijuana but radioactive Big Dick Energy. He lowered his eyes, zoning in on only one target. He face read that he was not to be fucked with. He was a man. And a mad one at that.

With his blunt rested between his thick digits and legs slowly moving ahead of him, the busying conversation resumed, now with his name on thier lips.

“Yo, Adonis coming!”

“What the fuck Donny want, man?”

“D done fucked up now.”

“D, I think the Don coming for you.”

Deandre, one of the only people who had not turned, too busy arguing with Quentin, felt his body go cold as he now felt the heat of huffs on the side his face. 

“Getcho’ ass out this nigga face and walk, witcho’ dumb ass.” Adonis spoke eerily calm, inhaling another puff of the exotic kush, Harlem accent deeper with the assistance of smoke.

“Shit.” Deandre cursed as he looked off to the side before he solemnly began walking into the direction of which most of the boys were huddled, looking at the interaction. D couldn’t even fully acknowledge his care nor concern of what he caused to Tamara because he was so upset. He always found himself not having control of his actions when it came to Ansiedad. “I ain’t even mean to hit her, Don-”

“I ain’t ask you to talk, nigga, I asked you to walk.” Adonis cut of D’s would be explanation, looking forward as they neared and now stood outside of huddle. “Get from round’ her, all you niggas.” His word was final as they all moved except Brooklyn who was still trying to get Tamara to remove the book. “You too, Brook.”

“Aight.” Brooklyn huffed as he moved and stood behind Adonis.

“Nigga, say what the fuck you gotta’ say.” The man brought the blunt back to his thick lips, inhaling deeply and exhaling in the opposite direction of the young girl.

Deandre scratched the back of his neck, “Look, I ain’t mean to hit you, I-

“But you did, nigga.” Adonis gained more anger and irritation by the second. “D, forreal, stop playing with me.” The man laughed humorously while he shook his head. “Say what the fuck you gotta say ‘fore I really whoop your ass.”

“T-that’s okay.” She pushes up her glasses. “He doesn’t need to apologize.” Her muffled voice sounded through the jacket she had now pressed against her nose. 

“Coo’. Let’s play.”

The man calmly handed his blunt to Brooklyn, uttering only a ‘you bet’ not smoke my shit either’ before he unexpectedly snatched the boy who he looked at as his little brother up by his jersey. Tamara was startled as she let out a little gasp, once again clutching her invisible damn pearls.

“I’ll Air yo shit out, boy. Keep playin’ wit me.” He gritted through his teeth. Tamara noticed how his dark skin dimensioned from the veins appearing through it. She bit her lip peeking through her glasses, feeling a heat rising between her thrifted jeans. “Say it fore’ I whoop yo ass, lil boy.”

“Aight.” D huffed, slightly embarrassed. He pulled away forcefully from Adonis’ grip. “I said: aight!”

“Watch yo’ muthafuckin’ tone.” Adonis spoke deeply. “And hurry the fuck up before I get mad.” He snatched back his blunt and leaned back on the heels of his Nike trainers, waiting for an unspoken apology. 

“My fault for hitting you, I ain’t mean to do that shit.” Deandre spoke, somewhat sincerely. “But I did and I’m sorry, foreal.”

“D!” Ansiedad called from her spot in the middle of the gym, angry that Deandre was apologizing to some girl like a bitch, in her opinion. Plus, he had calmed down.“Let’s go!”

“Thank you, and it's okay.” Tamara accepted his apology, keeping her focus on the bleachers.

Deandre stared at Tamara’s face for a few seconds longer before he turned and faced Adonis, waiting for approval almost, who straight-faced him and dismissed him with a single look in the opposite direction. “Imma’ catch up with you niggas later.” He turned towards a waiting Ansiedad.

“Dumbass, nigga.” Brooklyn muttered, taking the words right out of Adonis’ mouth. He made a reminder to specifically talk to D soon.

“Don’t een’ worry bout’ him. Worry bout’ takin’ babygirl go see Shay.” Adonis referred to the club’s residential nurse. “And make sure Shay give her a new pair of clothes, some without all this blood shit on it.”

“Bet.” Brooklyn slowly guided her up while Alijah grabbed her stuff, making sure to grab and conceal the detailed drawing of Brooklyn in Tamara’s notebook. 

Adonis shook his head watching the young kids walk away before pulling another hit of his blunt, disregarding the no smoking sign littered all throughout the building as usual. As he blew out the smoke, his breath was literally taken away as she entered the building.

Adonis’ deep eyes watched as her collard dress shirt rose even higher with the sexy switch of her wide hips as she walked timidly in her mid-calf boots. Her toned legs and thick thighs glistened with the glitter BonBon perfume she spritzed on herself this morning, awakening the senses of the young men who were watching her every move without shame. The woman pressed her Fentybomb glossed lips together, giving the boys a closed lipped smile before she began looking into the gym absentmindedly.

Adonis watched as her hands cramped behind her back as her curls tossed over her shoulders while she looked around the wide gym curiously, her heeled foot scratching the leather material of the other.

“Can I help you?” The woman was brought out of her wonder-stricken trance by the deep baritone that belonged to Adonis. She felt her breath leave her body as she assessed this gorgeous man in front of her very eyes. His black eyes pulled her in like an abyss that made her less embarrassed that she finally learned to swim at the age 19. And his beard- that Beard- it was combed and edged to perfection, simultaneously just begging to raked through with her acrylics. She felt her eyes disband, trying, but ultimately failing, not to immediately wander down the massiveness of his glistening eight pack that led to his gray sweats that exposed his deep V and happy trail. It was like his body and his face were both competing for her attention and right now, his beautiful face was losing.

She was knocked out of her trance quite literally when a ball hit the back of her Dior sweater causing her to stumble into Adonis, who quickly wrapped his arms around her waist.

“My fault!” A boy no older than twelve yelled from across the gym.

Adonis hiked up a brow, his eyes filled with amusement but face remaining static. “You aight,?” He asked, his accent as thick as his hands that slightly grazed her hips.

The woman quickly stabled herself back on her heels, gripping his massive biceps and giving a nervous smile. “Sorry. My mom swears I’m fall prone, or something.” She giggled. “I’m always falling all over the place.” She finally gained her stability and removed her hands completely from his warmed skin, taking a step back.

Adonis noticed her accent, heavily induced of a Beverly Hills Valley girl accented with slight high pitched slurs in her words. Her mannerisms reminded him of Cher from Clueless, his little sisters favorite movie.

“I was actually looking for the Chief Executive director. David, I think?” She looked up at nothing in particular. “I spoke with him on the phone earlier this week and he told me to go through the gym to get his office. I’m Sabella, by the way.”

“Nah, he left around 11 this mornin’.” Adonis stepped back and placed his hands in his basketball shorts pockets, getting a personal look at Sabella’s pretty face. “Somethin’ bout’ his wife.”

“Oh.” She let out softly, pouting as she toyed with her dangling Tiffany bracelet. Sabella went back to the conversation they had on the phone and his considerable amount of flirting he did.

“So do you think he’ll be here tomorrow?” She questioned adorably, shooting her head up. Adonis smiled within his hard demeanor at how adorable Sabella could be all the while being hands down one of the sexiest women he’d ever seen.

“Hmm?” She reiterated softy.

“He don’t work on Sundays.” He shook his head. “I ain’t gon’ front with you Miss, the nigga barely here. And when he is here, his ass just be sleep in his office.”

Sabella pouted once again. She had planned this meeting and finally felt she was getting somewhere within her new position at work, starting as junior editor at Mel Magazine Inc., the largest Black owned and black ran magazine corporation in the world. Her boss Melanie Howard, founder, CEO, and HBIC of the magazine gave the wide-eyed intern a job and a deadline to create an entry for the latest ‘Black and Bound’ segment, a segment about young black athletes living within compromising environments who were bound to go pro.

“Well, thank you anyways.” Sabella gave a soft smile, fixed her purse strap, and began walking away. Before she turned she could see from her peripheral vision of Adonis giving a curt nod before turning to walk away himself. Sabella decided, she was going to sulk tonight with a glass of chilled margarita mix and a binge session of POSE.

“Aye, Don!” Brooklyn announced as he jogged back into the gym. “Sammy gettin’ shorty right. Said it was just a nose bleed and that she’ll be aight.”

“Ion’ know, that girl looked about 5’6 to me.” Alijah added randomly as he soon joined the two.

Brooklyn raised his eyebrows as if waiting for Alijah to continue his statement. He dropped them when he realized that Alijah, of course, was finished. “And, nigga, the fuck?”

“You called her ‘shorty’ and she’s like the average height for a female her age.” Alijah shrugged as he pulled out his glasses from his pockets and placed them on his face.

Adonis and Brooklyn stared blankly within Alijah’s face, snickering before waving off AJ. “You one weird ass nigga.”

“And just who the fuck do you think you are?” Alijah asked as he picked up a rolling basketball, about to throw it back to the tweens across the gym.

Brooklyn snatched the ball from him, dribbling between his legs, crossing AJ and shooting the ball in the basket.“I’m Brooklyn Wright, nigga. Fuck you mean?” He smiled cockily as he threw the ball back to kids who stood in amazement.

“I got to get away from you little niggas.” Adonis stated bluntly.

Sabella stopped in her tracks, literally, smiling happily as she turned and basically ran to where the boys were standing. “You’re Brooklyn Wright?!” She smiled excitedly, clapping her hands. “Oh my god, you’re Brooklyn Wright!”

Brooklyn, confused but living for it all, flashed her a smile, stepping back to rub his hands along his jaw. “Yeah, I am that young nigga.”

“Hi, I’m Sabella Monroe-Ramirez with Mel Magazine.” She held out her hand. “Would you mind me asking you a few questions?”

Brooklyn let his eyes rake down her full figure as he savvily grabbed her hand. “Hell nah I don’t mind.” As she reached for her notebook, he got a peak at the wagon she was dragging. “Ask all the fuckin’ questions yo’ fine ass want.” He mumbled with his lip between his teeth.

Sabella giggled, the feeling of success taking over he ability to hear. She opened her mouth. “So how old were you when-”

“Nah, we not doing this shit.” Adonis spoke up, towering over both of them. He wasn’t with none of the exploitation of young boys and girls, especially young black boys and girls. “I know you know he only 17-

“Almost eighteen by the way.” Brooklyn interrupted as he smiled at Sabella before turning to the irritated face of Adonis. His smile dropped as he decided he didn't want none of the leftover smoke he had from Deandre. “Imma go over here.”

“Yes, but he's old enough to consent to questions.” Sabella answered where Adonis had left off. She was not about to let this opportunity go. “And as long as I’m not asking anything sexual or incriminating it’s fine-”

“Nah, it ain’t.” Adonis cut her off. “You makin’ a profit off his questions and he not, so no, it ain't fine.”

“I-I’m not making a direct profit-”

Adonis cut off the stuttering, once again not letting Sabella finish. “But it’s in your paycheck, right?” He shook his head knowingly at Sabella’s shocked face. Exactly. “Ion know where from but where you at is the hood. Don’t come around here with that shit.” He waved her off, pulling from the diminishing blunt. 

“You know for someone who looks like they don't like being cut off, you sure love doing it to me.” Sabella regained some dignity, remembering the pep talk she gave herself before she walked in the building.

Adonis couldn't help but laugh, choking on smoke slightly before standing up straight. Who’d she think she was fooling with her act?

“Look, you came here for David. The nigga ain't here so have a nice day before you not have a nice day.” Adonis really didn't want to be disrespectful to her pretty ass so he left before he had a chance. 

He turned, allowing Sabella to see the defining muscles of his back as he retreated back into the gym. 

_________________

“So that is how I turned in small business into a billion dollar corporation.” Julius Howard felt the weight lift from his shoulders after getting through with the story of how Mel Magazine came to be to a group of interns. He must’ve at least told the story a million times within the last two months due to how frequently his wife hired and fired the mostly new college graduates. 

The largest conference room on the 10th floor within the skyscraper located in the heart of Manhattan held the welcoming seminar, hosted, as always, by Julius Howard himself. He’d sit at the head of the large conference table and explained the in’s and out’s of the job. He felt the job was not fitting of someone of his position; Chief Operation Officer of Mel Magazine Inc, some editor could easily do the job. His word was nothing against his wife though so he complied. There, however, was one upside: Sabella.

He stared at her wide eyes as she looked at him from the end of the table. He could tell something was troubling her from the look on her face. He sought to ask as soon as the seminar was over. 

Now we’ll go over the structure-“

 “Why is this white jezabel even a consideration for the cover of next months issue?” The clear glass door banged against the wall as Melanie A. Howard herself busted in the conference room. The young occupies, jumped in both surprise and awe.

The room was filled with mostly interns had never officially met her and was hired through her assistant. Sabella took in the appearance of her classic houndstooth pantsuit and the Black Louboutin’s that she seemingly floated in throughout the office. For some reason, Melanie’s reputation and inevitable stance reminded her of her favorite character from her favorite show: Elecktra Abundance from Pose. They possessed the same level of mother she she inspired to be. 

A man sat at the head of the table, unfazed by his wife’s unruly actions as over the 19 years he had grown used to them. His hands fingered his beard as he tested the waters. She wouldn’t act too(bold) crazy in the presence of others- he wanted to see

“Melanie, as you can see: I’m busy. We can talk about this lat-

“I don’t give a damn about you being busy, you’re on my time! And we’ll talk about this now.” Melanie has crazy eyes that said ‘Don’t play with me.’ She often thinks her husband loses his rabbit-ass mind and constantly finds herself giving it back to him along with a piece of hers. 

“I don’t wanna embarrass you in front of your lil’ girlfriend so bring ya’ ass.” She was every bit of Harlem as stared down her husband as he embarrassingly rose from his padded roller chair. She stared pass him into the staring eyes of Sabella.

“You.” She pointed. Melanie pushed passed a hurrying Julius, stepping into the room fully.

“Have you got the questions on Brooklyn Wright?”

“I-I um-“ Sabella panicked with all of the eyes on her. She began to feel her anxiety creep up the back of her neck as she struggled to respond.

“I-I-I B-b-b uh- Now you can’t speak English?” Melanie sickeningly mocked Sabella as she now stood over her.

“Melanie” Julius warned from his vicinity at the door.

“If you don’t have answers by the end of the week consider yourself jobless, Radio. Understand?”

Sabella looked through her lashes, her eyes glossed over with unkept anxiety. Her tongue grazed her teeth before she gave a small, closed-lipped smile, swallowing back sitting saliva and tears. “Of course, Mrs.Howard. “ She forced out. “I’ll get right on it.”

Melanie inspected her closer, shifting in her Louboutin’s as her eyes raked over Sabella’s sitting figure. She smirked, she could practically bottle up the fear and sell it with all of it coming from Sabella. And besides her making a hypothetical profit, she also made a logical observation; the doe eyes, the lip bitting, the hair tossed over the shoulder. She could see why the little hottie with a body held the attention of her husband. Sabella was like the many women that her husband had personal ‘meetings’ with, the women who no longer worked at the Magazine and would never work at another. But she was different; rare. Anyone could notice.

Melanie didn’t like it.

And she vowed to get her husband not to like it either.

_________________________________

Sabella sat, shoveling a spoon of Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food into her mouth as she watched the now Elektra Evangalista read the House of Ferocity to filth. She chewed on a chocolate chunk before swallowing and bringing a handful of cheddar and sour cream Ruffles into her mouth. A curl that escaped her messy ponytail fell in line of her vision from the shaking of her head from the secondhand embarrassment she was feeling through the screen of her MacbookPro.

“House of Ferocity? You two are about as fierce as my morning cornflakes.”

The background and fill-in actors of Sabella’s most watched addiction Pose instigated the flawless read as they ooed and further pressed the unexpected slayage. “Dang, Elektra. You didn’t have to do them like that.” Sabella couldn’t believe that a character that she instantly hated from the first few seconds of the series was now the level of mother she strived to be by the last few minutes of the first season. After coming home, Sabella committed to her vow of bundling up with Netflix and carb-loaded snacks. She hoped to recover emotionally and physically from the smack in the face she’d felt from the day she had.

“Sabiii!” A high pitched voice sang throughout Sabella's studio apartment. She pouted from the intrusion and paused her screen. She could hear heels clacking against her marble flooring coming closer to the vicinity of her bedroom and immediately let her know who the intruder was.

“Why are you still in bed?” Her door was suddenly opened and the snatched silhouette that belonged to the one and only Cream Karrington obtained her view. “And why aren’t you dressed?” She exaggerated as she felt for the light switch and turned it on. “Come on, Sabella, you promised! You are not bailing on me now!” Cream jutted out one of her wide hips and looked at Sabella through slitted eyes.

Sabella’s eyes got used to the bright light as she squinted and brought another spoonful of ice cream to her lips. Cream scoffed in disgust as a little bit dribbled from her mouth and onto her chin. She swallowed and whipped it away with the sleeve of a thrown oversized sweatshirt before speaking.

“I’m not bailing. I’ve just….” She signed. “I’ve just had a really bad day, C. You won’t believe what happened today-

“Right, a bad day.” Cream condescendingly nodded, cutting off Sabella. “So you have a bad day, completely bail on me when I need you most and

“Cre-

“No, no, no, I’m not finished.” Cream narrowed her eyes and stalked closer to her. “Sorry to break it to you, Sabella, but you’re an adult. So if you think that I’m going to sit here and listen to how bad your day was, then you're wrong. I don’t care how bad your day was.” Cream began sautering around the room, her heels being the only thing heard for a while.

“And you know, you’re not in Oz anymore, Dorothy.” She continued as she found herself near the door, referring to Calabasas. “You don’t get to walk around and pretend you don’t know how anything works, not anymore. This is New York.” She faced Sabella, finding satisfaction in the drop of Sabella’s face. “People don’t give a shit about your shitty day, princess.”

Sabella sat unmoving as the echo from Cream’s heels went further and further, only moving to jump from the slamming of her front door. She didn’t understand, Cream was simply going to get a consultation for her BBL. Sabella didn’t understand why she made such a big deal out of it, seeing as though it will be her second one. But, she was used to Cream’s famous harsh words and the storm outs that soon followed as she had known her since she was 7 years old. She would forgive Sabella soon enough after finding something else for Sabella to be there for.

Still, Sabella decided to finish up the season before meeting Cream at M.D Cosmetics and hope to make things up to Cream. She couldn’t stand Cream being mad at her.

Before she could press the tab on the computer, Sabella was once again kept from the flawless reads as a bang assaulted her door and echoed through her apartment. She could feel the vibrations from beneath her feet as she hopped up from her position.

“What the..” Sabella questioned herself as she neared the now rattling door from her hallway. She assessed her surroundings and found her sights on the pastel pink key on her entry way table, connecting that Cream must of forgot her key or one final read of her own.

“This girl.” She muttered as she grabbed her key on the way to the door. Sabella expected to find the tapping Christian Louboutin foot of a waiting Cream but found Burberry dress shoes instead. She looked up into the eyes of the man that towered her, pausing at how good he looked. “What are you doing here, Christian?”

Christian smiled, flashing his perfectly straight teeth. He began walking slowly into the apartment. “No hello, princess?” He neared closer.

“No, Christian.” Sabella stated sternly, her hands weakly pushing his away from her ass. “No ‘hello’, only goodbye. Now, Get out.” She stood firmly with her hands across her ample chest.

“First of all,” Christian gritted as he slammed her body against the adjacent wall with a tight grip on her neck. “Take all that fuckin’ base outta’ ya’ voice.” He licked his lips at the sight of her immediate submissiveness. “Second of all, who the fuck you think you kicking out? I pay the bills in this mothafucka’”

Sabella’s eyes closed, feeling of an euphoric state from a man that was once her’s reinstating his dominance. “I’m sorry, daddy.” She stated softly, pushing away the internalized self-disappointment she felt within. She felt herself melting not only at the state of her current being, but at the feeling of his tongue now suckling her jaw. He moved down her neck, placing wet kisses on her juggler, moving his hand from her neck to her ponytail, yanking it as he stared deep within her eyes. “You better be fuckin’ sorry.”

His hands caressed her plump bottom before hooking his arm beneath and hoisting her up, already knowing the way to her room.

“You about to be real fuckin’ sorry.” He mumbled deeply, and out of breath as he entered her bedroom, dropping her on her comforter. Sabella leaned on her forearms and watched as he rushingly rid himself of Balmain dress pants and boxers, stumbling slightly before pouncing on her small body. His hands and mouth went to work, kneading one of her now exposed breast while his tongue circled around one of her erect nipples.

Sabella moaned as he moved from one to the other, cradling his head as he moved back and forth before lifting his head and finally bringing their lips together. She could feel it behind her lids, the power of her messy kiss bringing tears to her eyes. She held on tighter, her arms completely circling his neck, knowing this moment would be over as soon as it had begun. She grinded on his large shaft, pulling a grunt from him. “I’ve missed you” She whispered against his lips, out of breath as he once was, connecting them again once her statement was finished.

As their tongues overlapped for silly dominance, Christian began shimmying down her spandex of her leggings down her thick thighs, stopping once there was an opening big enough for him to stick his large hands into. His thumb swiped her wetness through the soaked material. “You still get wet for daddy.” He stated before completely removing himself from her and the bed. Sabella physically shivered from the disconnect, longing for his much missed touch. She whined.

“Calm down!” Christian barked, completely quieting Sabella. He rummaged through his pants pockets, pulling out a gold wrapper before walking over and yanking Sabella leg until her ass was hanging off of the bed. He ripped open the wrapper with his teeth, maintaining eye contact with Sabella, and slowly rolled it on to his dick. “Ignoring my call n’shit” Christian spoke lowly, pulling the leggings and her thong all the way off. “Now, look at you. Feening for this dick.”

Sabella laid completely exposed. The cool air of her apartment wafted against her exposed clit and nipples causing her to absentmindedly arch her back against the sheets.

Christian smiled devilishly, “Yeah, that’s what I like.” His hand grabbed her waist while the other aligned his member to her slick opening and slowly moved in. He waited, her warmness completely surrounding him, reminding of old times along with her angelic moaning, before slamming into her.

Once again, Sabella found herself succumbing to her ex-fiancee and future brother-in-law, gasping as he fucked into her, fully submitted.

____________________________________________________________________

Hope you guys enjoyed this. Please let me know what you think and if you’d like to get added to my taglist!!!

@l-auteuse​ @artienauq (P.s sorry for making yall wait!)

[365days365movies]

February 5, 2021: The Notebook (2004)(Part 1)

...Do I have to?

...The year was 2004. I was 13, my Mom was still into romance movies, and we had a Hollywood Video nearby. God, I miss Hollywood Video, you have NO idea. Anyway, I obviously didn’t watch this movie (or I wouldn’t be watching it now), but I do remember kissing in the rain...or was that just the DVD cover? Other than that, I got nothin’. Still, I like both Rachel McAdams and Ryan Gosling in other works, so I guess we’ll see.

I also can’t start this without acknowledging the fact that this is based upon a Nicholas Sparks book, and...I’m not into that. Sparks sucks, man. Sappy, overemotional, and constantly predictable folderol.

OK, Nicholas Sparks, let’s get this over with. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

We start with scenic shots of a boat rowing through a marsh, being visited by a flock of snow geese. As they fly off, an elderly woman (Gena Rowlands) looks out of a window over it. The woman is in an old-folks home, and is visited by Duke (James Garner), another resident. He’s here to read from a book, despite it not being a “good day,” according to the woman’s attendant.

The story in the book begins on June 6, 1940, at a carnival in South Carolina. There, Noah Calhoun (Ryan Gosling) sees Allie Hamilton (Rachel McAdams), and it’s infatuation at first sight. He’s a lumber yard worker, and she’s a rich heiress. He’s also EXTREMELY forward, and she’s EXTREMELY not interested. He approaches her for a dance (at a...carnival), and she says no, having literally never seen this guy before. He responds to this rejection by...butting into her date with another dude of a Ferris Wheel? 

And when she once again rejects his offer for a date...he, uh...he threatens to kill himself off of the Ferris Wheel?

Um. Yeah, no. That’s a new level of manipulation. She pants him on the Ferris Wheel and humiliates him, but JESUS CHRIST, this dude is a lot. That’s compounded the next day, when he continues to pursue her, and she continues to be EXTREMELY not interested! DUDE. GET A GODDAMN CLUE HERE, she is NOT INTERESTED IN YOUR SHIT.

Is Noah the first simp? Because he’s really starting to seem like it. Anyway, Noah and his friend Fin (Kevin Connolly) basically set her up to go on a double date with Noah, and he continues to be overly forward. Maybe this is supposed to be romantic, but it definitely doesn’t feel like it to me.

We find out that Allie is a quite well-educated young woman, whose schedule is basically completely controlled by her parents, who want her to go to college as well. Noah questions why her life is so restrictive, nothing that she should be free, which she insists she is. He then lies down in the middle of the road, watching the street...lights…

Holy shit, he’s a manic pixie dream boy. HOLY SHIT HE’S A MANIC PIXIE DREAM SIMP. He does all these quirky things, and breaks the girl in the restrictive lifestyle out of said lifestyle. Even if his dumbass actions nearly get him and Allie killed. See, she lies down in the street with him, and they nearly get run over by a car. And this second near-death experience is apparently SO romantic, that Allie’s won over, and they...just dance in the middle of the street. Because Ryan Gosling has no idea where to dance, apparently.

Billie Holiday sings “I’ll Be Seeing You” in the background (which, yes, I love), and we cut back to Duke reading to the elderly woman, who correctly guesses that they fell in love. And yeah, they go head-over-heels, apparently. Which is symbolized by, just, the most graphic of PDAs over, lord. 

Allie meets Noah’s father, Frank (Sam Shepard), a seemingly nice man and poetry fan (he’s a Tennyson man apparently). He asks her if she wants breakfast-for-dinner, and he’s my favorite character so far.

However, as if to set up the conflict to come, we’re reminded that this is a summer romance, and that they come from two different classes and worlds. Because of course they do, but whatever, moving on. That is when the following scene takes place.

...Look, I’m a bird guy by trade, and even I think that was weird.

We get more glimpses of their romance, including them dancing at a gathering with...a bunch of black peopNOPE. HOLD YOUR TONGUE, 365, WAIT FOR THE REVIEW TO TALK ABOUT THAT SHIT. At the end of this montage, we meet Allie’s father, the uppity and rich John Hamilton (David Thornton), and his GLORIOUS mustache (mustache). 

He invites Noah to Sunday brunch, which is being attended by...black servaHOOOOOOLD. NOT NOW 365 NOT NOW. We also meet Allie’s controlling mother, Anne Hamilton (Joan Allen). When Noah tells them how much money he makes, they immediately look down on him and his poor, poor ways. Anne reveals that Allie is headed to Sarah Lawrence, an all-girl’s school in New York. Which is, uh...NOT close.

Anne very much disapproves of her relationship with Noah, seeing him as a low-born of little consequence. Not that it matters, because the two head to a DEFINITELY HAUNTED house in the woods one night, which overlooks the marshlands. The bats from the Scooby-Doo intro fly by as the two walk in to, again, AN ABSOLUTELY HAUNTED HOUSE. This is the 1772 Windsor Plantation, home to...the Swamp Fox? Huh. Didn’t expect a crossover with the Mel Gibson movie The Patriot, but OK then.

The two talk about their house in the future, and somewhere in the house, a painting’s eyes move mysteriously. Allie plays a tune on the piano, which 1) sounds AMAZINGLY creepy, and 2) I’m pretty sure is the opening song, which is a neat touch. Guess that’s the theme for the movie, or possibly Allie’s leitmotif.

Anyway, it seems that the ghostly wails of Old Man Marion have gotten them both all hot and bothered, and they prepare to make love, right there in the old haunted house. The two undress while social distancing, then approach, significantly raising their risks of contracting COVID-19. Allie is CLEARLY very nervous, and as they attempt to begin the dirty deed, Allie can’t stop rambling about the current situation. Which is clearly putting Noah off the mood, but the two still clearly care about each other. It’s weirdly sweet, considering the fact that there’re, like, 50 ghosts watching, and God knows how many of those are slaaaaaaaAAAANYWAY

Fin suddenly bursts in, as it would appear that Allie’s parents have every policeman in town looking for her. Her parents are clearly upset, and her mother demands that Allie stops seeing Noah, whom she literally describes as “trash.” Jesus. And they aren’t exactly quiet about it, as Noah hears the entire conversation. He understandably leaves, and is also clearly disheartened by the whole situation. 

When Allie catches up to him, he says he has to think about this whole thing, including the fact that she’s going to Sarah Lawrence, and he’s staying behind. And I’m not gonna lie, he’s actually being realistic about this whole thing, and she’s acting FAR less rational. She actually breaks up with him right then and there, and as she’s literally physically assaulting him, I realize that SHE is actually the psychologically unstable one, HOLY SHIT. Emotionally compromised or not, Allie goes BONKERS here.

The next day, her folks decide that they’re leaving, that very day. Allie doesn’t want to leave without making amends with Noah, and she’s regretting her actions the previous night. She goes to Fin, and tells him to tell Noah that she loves him, and that she’s sorry. Noah shows up a little too late, and goes to return the comments, but Allie’s already gone.

Noah somehow gets her address, and writes her 365 letters, one letter every day. He never gets one in response, so he gives up and moves with Fin to Atlanta. Allie’s mom is seen getting the mail, so we know EXACTLY what happened to those letters. Meanwhile, it’s now 1941, and it’s time for World War II for the USA! Fin and Noah fight with Patton’s troops, and Fin doesn’t make it.

Allie, meanwhile, is in college, and works as a Nurse’s Aide for war veterans. She sees all of them as Noah,,,which is weird because she hasn’t gotten any of his letters, so she wouldn’t know that he went to war, but whatever. One of these injured men is Lon Hammond, Jr. (James Marsden). And...aw...AWWWWWWW. Did I just type James Marsden? GODDAMN IT HE’S GONNA GET CUCKED

James Marsden seems to have only one role in movies, and that’s to be overshadowed by another dude, even though in many instances, he’s a totally fine guy. The X-Men films, Superman Returns, Enchanted, the Westworld series in a way, TELL ME I AM GODDAMN WRONG. Dude’s always in movies where he plays the love interest to a girl, and that girl is pursued by another guy, and he ALWAYS LOSES TO THAT GUY. You could argue that Cyclops in the X-Men escaped that fate, but need I remind that first, Jean died, and then she came back AND KILLED HIM. STOP SCREWING OVER JASON MARSDEN’S LOVE LIFE, MOVIES!!!!

Seems like we’re once again headed down that path, though, as the very injured Lon asks Allie out on a date while in recovery, then takes her out once he’s healed. And, since he’s about as forward as Noah was, but less crazy when asking her out, she falls in love with him quickly. And it’s Duke that makes that assessment, not me. And, OF COURSE, he’s a rich Southern boy, meaning that her parents are going to approve.

At a dance club in the city with...black performDEAR GOD IT’S GETTING HARD TO HOLD ON BUT I GOTTA DO IT MOVING ON

He proposes to her, with her parents’ full permission (of course, because he’s rich and southern, gross), and she gladly accepts. He jumps on stage and announces to the entire club that they’re getting married. However, she’s still missing Noah subconsciously.

Speaking of, Noah comes home from war, presumably in 1945, and finds that his father sold him the house in order to buy the Windsor Plantation. Around the same time, Noah finds out that Allie’s moved on, and is with Lon. So, what does he do? The only logical thing: he restores the entire plantation by himself in order to win Allie back FUCKING REALLY?

Dude, you rebuilt an entire house on your own, your father died, and you could EASILY get rich off of selling the house and continuing to restore other derelict properties in the area! Upwards mobility, my man! You don’t even need to stay in town anymore! Hell, THAT’S a better plan to win both Allie’s AND her parents’ approval! STOP SIMPIN’, AND IF YOU’RE GONNA SIMP, DO IT RIGHT!!!

He’s also sleeping with a war widow, Martha Shaw (Jamie Brown), and STILL thinks only of Allie, and her sweet, sweeeeeeet bathwater, probably. Speaking of, Allie’s trying on a wedding dress, when she sees a photo of Noah in the paper in front of the plantation, which certainly shocks her. Confused, she goes to see Lon at his job as a stockbroker, and laments to him her lost romantic whimsy, brought up by seeing Ryan Gosling (AKA a natural response). She tells him that she’s going to Seabrook to “clear her head.” Lon asks if he should be worried. She says no. SHE LIIIIIIIIIIES.

Halfway mark, and this is a good place to cut! See you in Part 2!

[the-bae-who-lived]

2, 3, 4, 27, & 28 for the ship headcanon meme!!

ship headcanon meme

always accepting<3

thank you for sending these!!!

2. Who is the most insecure and what makes them feel better? 

i think it’s safe to say kai is a bit more insecure. he’s craved validation for a lot of his life. he didn’t have a mother and his father figure was pretty shifty and just wanted to teach him to fight and protect himself. so he definitely needs to be validated as a person instead of a warrior. to add to that, he looked for validation with the blooded dawn and with a woman who didn’t love him, who manipulated him and only gave him recognition when he did things that appeased her.  vael is something different for kaidan because she, despite having a father, had people around her who loved her. she had a pretty well balanced life. and for that, she’s able to give what she has to others. so as far as what makes kaidan feel better?? when he was looking for validation, he would do damn near anything he could for that temporary high. but with vael, she validates him even when he doesn’t ask for (which he literally will not do bc stubborn). so she’s allowing him to have a chance to be himself and accept himself for who he is.

3. Who is the most romantic?

both of them for sure but probably more kai than vael because (and we’ll learn more about this when we start to get into the juicy parts of the fic) she’s never really had a romantic connection before whereas kaidan has. kaidan is so romantic??? like he wants to portray himself as a stoic warrior but really, he’s the guy who will pick you flowers and hold your hand and cuddle with you, take you on dates and cook for you. he’s a squish. he also does enjoy reading and you’d find me hard-pressed not to believe that this man doesn’t read romance novels. 

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?

oops kaidan. we can see that already because he’s touched vael a few times in the fic. but also later on vael as well because once she gets a taste of what it’s like to kiss and touch and be intimate with a man, with kaidan, she’s gonna want it like all the time??? but kaidan because he’s already had sex, knows what it’s like and wants that physical intimacy. he’s not the type to go around sleeping with just anyone. he does need that connection whether it’s emotional or just absurd amounts of lust. but it’ll get to a point with vael where he has both and he be like u make my dick hard and my heart soft :/ #KAIDANFUCKS  but in general speaking, kaidan does like to look. if she’s walking in front of him, you better believe his eyes are on dat ass. and he’ll make sneaky grabs lol. once he’s comfortable and he’s sure she’s comfortable as well he’ll steal kisses, touch her face her hair the small of her back. 

as for vael, once she’s sexually liberated LMAO, she might get a bit brazen with the touching. kaidan’s butt is also not safe from her little paws but honestly, he doesn’t mind. 

on a sweeter note for her though, because i don’t want y’all thinking she’s just a lil gremlin, she’ll eventually also spoon him for sure. and when they’re walking, she’ll take his arm and rest her head on his bicep bc she’s too vertically challenged to reach his shoulder.

27. Why do their friends get annoyed with them? 

first of all thanks for assuming kai has friends. vael has talvas for sure. but i don’t know that they would do any of their gooey coupley stuff in front of friends??? i mean maybe but it’s dependent on the situation. but to answer this question, i think that talvas would get annoyed with them because kaidan is taking up a lot of vael’s time that talvas used to get. so he would be like ok vae let’s put him out on his leash so we can have girl talk.

28. Why do they get jealous? 

let’s see, let’s see...

vael might get jealous when they stop at taverns and the women flock around kai because he’s a god among men if u feel me? no but he’s like beautiful. so while he’s drinking his ale and they’re all batting their eyes around him and he’s oblivious, vael is in the corner watching like

..... and she’s not aware yet of just how fucking oblivious kai is and can’t tell that he doesn’t even see these women. 

it’s much easier for kaidan to get jealous. vael, in my humble mf opinion, is stunning as well and if m.en are g.ross p.igs now, they were are certainly no less gross in this setting. so kaidan has a possessiveness issue and he’s the first to stand up for vael or for anyone who’s being degraded or harassed. but because vael is kinda friendly and naive at times, she gives people the benefit of the doubt and will talk to them and kaidan doesn’t mind the talking, but he minds when the other person is a. taking too much of her time b. not acknowledging him and c. making it totally obvious that they’re flirting with her. 

side note, vael has specific things she does with her face or her body language and they just happen. she doesn’t mean for it, but they give off flirtatious signals when in reality, that’s just what her body does. 

and i mean like lip biting when she’s listening or concentrating or even touching the tip of her thumb to her lower lip and maybe toying with it a bit, she has big dreamy eyes so i mean blinking could get her into some trouble??? she’s smiley, too. like always smiling. so people think she’s flirting and when kaidan starts to watch her more and notice these things about her, he’s gonna be like NOW HOLD ON A DAMN MINUTE!