#i want that pink tweed dress so bad

[lesbiradshaw]

her tgm press tour looks live in my mind rent free

[mariasont]

Dress Code - S.R

a/n: got a little carried away with this one, but ugh just imagining spencer reid coming to my defense has me down BAD

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

summary: in which spencer reid doesn't appreciate an agent questioning the length of your skirt

warnings: fluff, a rando flirting/being rude with the reader, mini skirts 4 life, definitely not appropriate for work but spencer doesn't give a FUCK

wc: 1.5k

"Interesting choice of attire for the FBI," the man's voice commented as you paused in the midst of penciling in his meeting with Chief Cruz. "Isn't that skirt a bit... short?"

The man was tall, though not quite as tall as Dr. Reid. His hair, a dark shade that caught the light as he moved (more so because of the liberal amount of gel in it), was neatly trimmed, but it lacked the effortless charm of Spencer's curls.

You had unwittingly set a standard, with Dr. Reid as the benchmark. You tried to go on dates, to distract yourself from the boy genius, but those dates turned into a mental tally--he's not as smart as Spencer, not as kind, not as attractive. 

Maintaining an unshakeable smile, you stood up from your work area. "You think? I just love how it twirls when I spin!"

You demonstrated--the pleated hem of your pink tweed skirt billowing out around you. You wobbled on your heels, a giggle escaping you as you used the desk to steady yourself. Spencer's gaze followed your every move as you tucked a couple stray curls behind your ears.

Spencer intended to maintain a respectful distance, to grant you some space, but he found himself consistently drawn towards you, as if pulled by gravity itself. You were irresistibly captivating, and it wasn't lost on him that this allure undoubtedly affected others just as much.  

His gaze sharpened into a glare, almost tangible in its intensity, directed at the man who hovered too close in your personal space, eyes trailing where they shouldn't as the fabric of your skirt fluttered with your movements.

The agent let out a soft laugh, inching forward to prop his elbows on the desk's edge, his eyes subtly scanning your legs. "I'd wager it becomes quite the tactical distraction during interrogations."

"Oh, I don't go into the interrogation rooms, silly!" you laugh, a melodic ripple in the air, as you ease back down into your chair. 

You cross your legs, one over the other, the action accentuating the graceful lines of your figure, skirt settling into place with a soft rustle. 

The man's smirk broadened, his eyebrow lifting in a choreographed motion. "You don't say?"

Your smile is radiant, blissfully unaware of the sarcasm in his voice. You tilt your head, a soft gesture as you rearrange a vase brimming with colorful flowers on your desk--a thank-you from Garcia for the cupcakes you gifted her with last week.

"Yep! I'm the first face people see here, and I want to make sure it's a good one!"

He nodded slowly, a sly grin spreading across his features. "The first face, huh? I suppose with a view like that, it's hard for anyone to get past the front desk. But isn't it a bit distracting for the agents?"

"I believe it's all about focus. And our team has an exceptional ability to focus, no matter the environment."

It was a welcome surprise to watch Dr. Reid make his way toward you, his walk a familiar lanky stride that somehow managed to be both awkward and graceful. You like his tie today, still crooked, but charming, and it was decorated with blue stripes that trailed up the side. Despite the sharp lines of his suit, there was something so undeniably soft about him. 

"Dr. Reid, I..."

Spencer didn't let him finish his thought. "And speaking of work, I believe Chief Cruz is waiting on you for those files. Best not to make him wait."

You weren't speaking of work, but the agent was quick to excuse himself, nonetheless.

"He seems nice, doesn't he?"

Spencer's lips twitched, on the verge of breaking your idealistic bubble, but he stopped short, arrested by the sincerity shining in your eyes. The idea of spoiling your untainted perspective felt almost sacrilegious, not when your smile was so genuinely sugary it nearly could've brought him to his knees right then and there. 

"Yeah," he conceded, his eyes trailing over your complacent face. "Nice."

You looked down at your skirt, plucking at a thread that had come undone. "You don't think it's too short, do you?"

You stood, ensuring he had a complete view, your palms delicately pressing the fabric down. Spencer's eyes opened a shade wider, the unexpected display catching him off guard. The skirt's length--or lack thereof--left little to the imagination, your thighs on full display, but he'd keep that thought to himself, and with any influence he had, everyone else would as well. 

"No, it's fine, you look lovely."

"Lovely?" your eyes basically shimmered in this light, your chin gently resting in the curve of your palm as you fixed him with an intent stare. "That's high praise."

"Deservedly so."

"Dr. Reid, I'm blushing."

And you were, pink radiating across your neck and cheeks, but he was sure a similar rosy shade was coloring the tips of his ears.

You rose from your chair, circling the desk to position yourself directly in front of him, close enough for him to detect the light scent of Dubble Bubble on your breath. He, almost instinctively, found himself leaning in your direction. 

"I just love how it feels," you noted, hand brushing against the cloth. "It's so soft, see?"

You extended the hem of your skirt towards him. Spencer's hand hesitated, then tentatively touched the fabric, clearing his throat in the process. He was even closer now, the scent of your perfume--what he thought was a mix of roses and a hint of citrus--engulfed him. The skirt was soft like you had said, but it was the warmth radiating from your skin that sent a jolt through him. 

His knuckles grazed against your thigh, whether intentional or not he really wasn't sure. His usual clarity wasn't up to par, not with you standing so close, looking so nice. The world seemed to spin when he was around you.

You let out a giggle, a soft and effervescent sound that seemed to steal the air from his lungs. "Do you see what I mean? It's like wearing a cloud."

His hand snapped back as if touched by fire, his face awash with a flustered glow. "Yes, it's...very soft," he managed, raking his fingers through his hair, his gaze darting to any point but your legs, the memory of its softness scattering his concentration.

You offered a beaming smile, naively unaware to the sheer havoc you wreaked on his senses. He needed to get back to work to prevent any rash decisions--like taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours right there, an act that would certainly mar his professional record. He also wasn't sure you'd appreciate that. 

As though you had plucked the thoughts straight from his mind, your fingertips brushed softly over his chest. "Goodness, I've been rambling on, haven't I? You probably have, like, super important stuff to do."

Your touch seemed to still the air between you, Spencer's breath hitching, momentarily losing his train of thought. "Oh, uh... well, no, it's actually kind of a slow day for me right now."

Your hand, moving from his chest to rest on his arm, offered a tender squeeze. "Oh, that's good, isn't it? You guys are always super busy, it's about time the universe gave you a break, huh?"

Just as Spencer opened his mouth to reply, you bit your lip, cheeks flushed with a sudden realization. "Oh no, I totally just jinxed it, didn't I?"

You quickly rapped your knuckles against the desk. 

Spencer cocked his head to the side, a bemused chuckle escaping him. "What?"

Your words bubbled over with delight, closing the gap between you and Spencer until you were almost chest to chest. "Look at this, I'm the one who is teaching you something for once!" Your smile was wide and uncontainable. "So, knocking on wood--it's supposed to ward off bad luck or reverse a jinx, just like I might have done."

A myriad of scientific retorts teetered on the tip of his tongue, each one ready to debunk the notion of luck and its superstitious rituals. But those thoughts dissolved in the glow of your smile, as radiant and illuminating as an 1800-watt lightbulb. 

"Really? That's fascinating," he mused, his smile soft. "I'll have to remember that."

"Right? Oh, and don't get me started on finding a four-leaf clover. I swear it's lucky. I found one once, and I had the best day ever."

To him, it seemed like you didn't have anything other than good days, despite the statistical improbability. 

"I don't doubt it," Spencer replied with a knowing smile. Noticing the same agent coming out of the hallway, he excused himself. "Well, I'm going to get back. I'll, uh, see you later?"

"You know where to find me," you said.

As you spun to retreat to your desk, he offered a last, discreet glance at your skirt, more specifically the shape of your ass in it, before following after the agent.

"Walk with me, yeah?" Spencer suggested, his tone leaving no room for argument. It was out of character for him, but the way his jaw tightened suggested he didn't care. Once the distance granted privacy from your ears, he stated plainly. "Her attire is not up for discussion. If there's a concern, I'm the one you talk to."

The remainder of his day passed just as slow, and in the back of his mind, he entertained the thought that he had your knock-on wood to thank for that.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 22: heirloom

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

The idea that in just a couple of days you were going to marry Spencer Reid felt unreal.

Your dream had always been to get married and start a small family with a good man: one who was gentle, hardworking, and, of course, kind.

Spencer adored you. There wasn’t a moment in the day when he wasn’t attentive to your needs, and even when work demanded a lot of his time, he made sure to stay in touch. He cared about you.

You doubted there were any words to describe the feelings you had for him. Love seemed like too short of a word compared to how you would practically give him your life if it made him happy. You were sure that the main reason you could sacrifice everything for him was that you knew your fiancé would never ask you to do such a thing.

You had gone to pick up your wedding dress from a fashion house that specialized in modernizing them, so you could wear what had once been your late mother’s dress. You thought it would be a nice way to honor her and let her know that you were now walking down the aisle, just as she had always hoped to see.

“Knock, knock,” you heard a voice at the door of the room that was serving as your dressing room.

Your future husband was wearing a dark brown tweed jacket, and his wavy hair fell gracefully around his face. Maybe it was the excitement of your upcoming wedding, but you found him more and more handsome, with that fair skin and those pink lips that made you want to cover him in kisses.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, I just tried on the dress a moment ago, and everything is perfect,” you said happily. He approached you, put his arms around your waist, and stole a kiss. “I look pretty.”

“You always look pretty,” he added. It seemed that this mutual adoration was shared because, at that moment, Spencer was looking at you as if he saw the sun, the moon, and the stars in your eyes.

“Do you want to see the dress?”

“No,” he quickly replied. “It’s bad luck.”

“Seriously?” you huffed, incredulous.

“They say it can ruin the ceremony or the marriage, and that’s the last thing I want.”

“For a man of science, you turned out to be quite superstitious.”

“Better safe than sorry,” he murmured, pouting a little, which you had no trouble kissing away. “I want everything to be perfect.”

“Something’s going to go wrong, that’s inevitable. Maybe I’ll trip on my way to the altar, your suit will catch fire, a guest will get aggressive, the priest won’t show up, we’ll get completely drunk, have sex, and I’ll get pregnant…”

“Everything sounds catastrophic except the last part,” he mused, making you laugh.

Your fiancé had been more affectionate lately, and you let him kiss your cheek. Slowly, he sniffed your face, moved to your hair, and finally nibbled gently on your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine.

“Spence…”

“I brought you something,” he whispered, his voice velvety near you.

You missed his warmth when he pulled away, rummaging through his pocket. You waited patiently and then saw him offer you a small burgundy box.

“But I already have my engagement ring, handsome,” you laughed, showing him your left hand.

Spencer shook his head and said it was something else, so curious about the contents of the box, you did as he asked. Inside was a beautiful gold locket, with a light blue surface and a white engraving of a bird flying near some flowers.

“It belonged to my mother,” he explained. “It’s kind of a family heirloom. It was supposed to be passed down through the daughters, but Mom only had me. And the week I was in Las Vegas, I asked her if I could give it to you.”

“Is that a hummingbird?”

“Yes. They have many spiritual meanings, but in this case, symbolize that our love is light, joyful, and enduring, as hummingbirds can travel great distances despite their size. It could also be a symbol of hope for a bright future for us.”

As he explained, you felt strangely moved by it all. You had never received anything like this before, and you always thought this kind of tradition was reserved for aristocratic or wealthy families. But no, your future life partner was offering you this treasure because he wanted you to continue that tradition, implying that one day you would have a daughter to pass it on to.

“There’s nothing inside.”

“You can put whatever you want in it.”

“I’ll put a picture of my husband,” you said with a smile, reaching up to place your hand on his cheek. “I love it. Thank you so much for giving it to me.”

“Mom was so happy. She loves you a lot.”

“And I love her. I’m grateful she’s letting me steal her son.”

“And she thinks the opposite. She’s happy to know I’ll be in good hands, with someone who loves and cares for me.”

You were drunk on love for him. You knew that, like everything in the world, relationships had their complications, but sometimes you liked to think Spencer was the perfect man for you.

Children always assumed their parents were soulmates, and you knew with certainty that yours wouldn’t be wrong.

Suddenly, one of your hands moved on its own to his hair, twirling a lock around your finger.

“How strange would it be if I put one of those golden curls I love so much in my locket?”

“In this situation, it’d be romantic, actually. But if you were a stranger, it’d be classified as stalking and could escalate to homicide.”

Laughter burst from your chest, and he smiled to himself, pleased he had made you laugh.

“I still find it hard to believe we’re getting married. It’s so strange.”

“In a bad way?”

“No, no. I mean, it feels… like a dream. I feel too happy for it to be real.”

“Well, I assure you it’s very real,” he assured you, holding you tenderly.

Even if Spencer didn’t tell you he loved you (which he did all the time), just looking into his eyes would be enough for you to know. Those honey-colored eyes, like a deer’s, that refused to look at anyone but you.

A phone call interrupted your moment, and you caught a glimpse of the contact name: David Rossi. Spencer greeted him kindly but somewhat confused, and as the conversation progressed, his frown deepened. You heard him tell the man several times that it wasn’t necessary, that he didn’t want him to go to the trouble, and he shook his head more times than you could count. But apparently, his friend was insistent on the matter, whatever it was.

“Is everything okay?”

“Rossi wants us to go to a wine tasting now. He says he’ll cover the cost of all the drinks for the wedding reception.”

At that moment, you understood why Spencer had been so adamant in refusing, and you were quite surprised by the offer. David knew you, but you didn’t expect him to offer something on that scale.

“Isn’t that too much?”

“I tried to tell him, but he’s as stubborn as a mule. He insists it’s a special occasion since the baby of the unit is getting married.”

A soft exclamation escaped your lips, and Spencer chuckled, not entirely pleased that you agreed with the nickname.

“Everyone loves you so much. We love you so much.”

You stood on your tiptoes to give him one last (or so you hoped) kiss on the cheek and hurried to grab the bag with your dress. You were about to leave when you stopped in your tracks, telling him you had forgotten something.

“What is it?”

“I forgot to ask for your help fastening my locket.”

He smiled and happily obliged, taking special care with the task. From that day on, the piece of jewelry became practically a part of you. And, as tradition dictated, it was passed on to your daughter when someone was worthy of receiving it.

[little-lynx]

EVERLARK OUTFITS: THE VICTORY TOUR

This part of “Catching Fire” is done (finally) so I put it all together;) DISTRICT 11, THE SQUARE

I go to my compartment and let the prep team do my hair and makeup. Cinna comes in with a pretty orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. I think how much Peeta will like the color. <…> As the train is pulling into the District 11 station, Cinna puts the finishing touches on my outfit, switching my orange hairband for one of metallic gold and securing the mockingjay pin I wore in the arena to my dress. <…> I can hear the anthem beginning outside in the square. Someone clips a microphone on me. Peeta takes my left hand. // Catching Fire, ch. 4

I think this dress should be a little semi-official so I choose cape sleeve sheath midi dress. It’s perfect for autumn (and they have early autumn weather there in 11th). The hair is just plain + gold hairband = girlish innocent look like the one after the games (this tactics they choose for the Tour). Plus I wanted to draw Katniss with her natural straight hair because i draw her with her braid usually ;) And again nothing about Peeta’s outfit. You know I feel like Portia 😅 because I have to choose how to dress Peeta. I’m not complaining through. So it is black suit with golden buttons (matching Katniss’s hairband and pin), thin soft orange sweater and black leather shoes.

DISTRICT 11, THE DINNER

A pale pink strapless dress brushes my shoes. My hair is pinned back from my face and falling down my back in a shower of ringlets. Cinna comes up behind me and arranges a shimmering silver wrap around my shoulders. He catches my eye in the mirror. “Like it?”  “It's beautiful. As always,” I say. “Let's see how it looks with a smile,” he says gently. // Catching Fire, ch.5

DISTRICT 7

Jackson has devised a game called «Real or Not Real» to help Peeta. He mentions something he thinks happened, and they tell him if it’s true or imagined, usually followed by a brief explanation. <...> But since Peeta’s greatest confusion centers around me—and not everything can be explained simply—our exchanges are painful and loaded, even though we touch on only the most superficial of details. The color of my dress in 7. My preference for cheese buns. The name of our math teacher when we were little. Reconstructing his memory of me is excruciating. Perhaps it isn’t even possible after what Snow did to him. But it does feel right to help him try. // Mockingjay, ch. 19

So we have only one sentence in “Mockingjay” about this outfit. And still I decided to draw it because I have a theory (head canon?) about it. I think Peeta remembers the color of her dress because it was special night for him (a lot of kisses and attempts to sneak away from everyone and maybe it felt very real at times) and also because she had two braids and the dress was red. RED is the color ❤️. / Peeta has dark red + black + a little bit gold which is also sexy color combination.

DISTRICT 5 I volunteer to take Annie back to my house in 12, where Cinna left a variety of evening clothes in a big storage closet downstairs. All of the wedding gowns he designed for me went back to the Capitol, but there are some dresses I wore on the Victory Tour.  <…> Annie wears a green silk dress I wore in 5, Finnick one of Peeta’s suits that they altered— the clothes are striking. <…>  As surely as the embroidery stitches in Annie’s gown were done by Cinna’s hand, the frosted flowers on the cake were done by Peeta’s.  // Mockingjay, ch. 16

Katniss: green silk dress + wavy sleeves + sea waves embroidery / Peeta: ivory dress shirt + knitted green waistcoat with sea waves embroidery + tweed suit

DISTRICT 2

Girl talk. That thing I've always been so bad at. Opinions on clothes, hair, makeup. So I lie. “Yeah, he's been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet.” Velvet. The only fabric. I could think of off the top of my head. “I have. On your tour. That strapless number you wore in District Two? The deep blue one with the diamonds? So gorgeous I wanted to reach through the screen and tear it right off your back,” says Johanna. // Catching Fire, Chapter 15

This description gave me strong “Anastasia” feels 😅. So I loosely based Katniss dress on Anastasia’s ballet evening gown. For Peeta I chose tuxedo jacket similar to Salvatore Ferragamo design for FF 12/13.  Neo classic, purple velvet, shiny shoes. Also I decided to include a cane, both to help Peeta to have some rest during all this Tour activities and as an accessory.

DISTRICT 12

When we reach the mayor's house, I only have time to give Madge a quick hug before Effie hustles me off to the third floor to get ready. After I'm prepped and dressed in a full-length silver gown, I've still got an hour to kill before the dinner, so I slip off to find her. <…> She [Madge] saw my reflection behind her and smiled. “Look at you. Like you came right off the streets of the Capitol.” // Catching Fire, ch.6

When I started drawing this one I just felt that I need to make it look very “Capitol”. So I added some feathers. A LOT of sparkling feathers, haha. Also there are some “moon and stars” accessories in Katniss’ hair because this silver gown gives me moonlight vibes. For Peeta I came up with classic suit but made him wear it casually.

[mxtantrights]

The Series Finale

it's time to say goodbye. let me just say right now I plan to make this part a bit longer than the others. I love the little universe I created and I love love love how many of you guys interacted with it. there will be a few small parts after this but other than that, get ready to say goodbye!

According to Cosmopolitan there are multiple ways to spend your twenty third birthday. Cake and candles sure. Presents yes. Drinks surely. Friends and family absolutely.

About to puke because you're about to make your red carpet debut with your boyfriend? Well...

You were offered so many dresses for the ceremony but honestly you couldn't pick just one. So you offered to wear all of them at any upcoming event, except for tonight.

Tonight is Oscars night. And you wanted to make a splash. A makeshift tuxedo with just the tight sleeveless white button down and black tweed shorts with a black cape attached to the back that reaches your feet.

The outfit is already ironed and hanging in front of you on the bathroom door.

You can't believe that you're nominated for an Oscar. You couldn't believe when your manger and agent asked if you wanted to submit yourself for a nomination. But here you are.

The glam team is amazing. Yeah they made you look magical but you missed Delores badly. She could talk you down your ledges when you got like this. So can Jason but you were shy about talking to him around new people.

You look down so that eyeliner can be applied.

"Woah." someone says.

Another person asks what it is. You can't ask, you're too nervous and you're in the middle of being made over.

"Luthor is done." someone answers.

You wait for the makeup artist to finish your liner before you open your eyes. You don't want to get poked.

When you do, you turn around to face the artist in the back.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

One of them, a small girl with cotton candy pink hair and an all black ensemble comes up to you. She shows you her phone. On the screen in bold red letters.

LUTHOR'S TYRANY OUT, UNION WINS!

Your eyes go wide and you can't help the squeal the comes out of your mouth. The sound makes everyone quiet down in the room.

"Sorry-I just, I have to make a call! I'll be right back!" you say.

Then you're rushing. Out of your chair, and out of the living room of the hotel and into the bedroom. You keep the door open as you shuffle through your bag to find your phone.

When you find it, there are several missed calls. Your manager, your agent, and Jason. You shoot quick text to your manger and agent that you saw the news.

Then you call Jason.

He picks up on the first ring.

"Babe did you see it? Did you see the news?" he shouts.

He's loud but you don't care. It's Jay. You'd deal with the high volume forever.

You smile, "I saw! I saw! I can't believe it. Does this mean we can go back to work?"

"I just sent a text to Harvey, he said he's working out details now with the lot mangers."

"What about the strikers?" you ask.

"I got a text from Damian here hold on," he hums to himself, no doubt scrolling through his texts with his tongue out, "yup. Nyssa and the others got everything they bargained for."

"Oh that's so good. I couldn't go back to work if I knew they didn't win this strike. Can you win a strike?" you say.

You hear him laugh on the other end, "I'm not sure how that works, hun. Wait-did I interrupt you, you're getting ready right?"

"I was..." you trial off.

"Okay go, go, go. I'll see you on the carpet-" he starts.

"Wait can I call you when I get in the car?" you interrupt him.

"Isn't it like bad luck to see me before?" he asks.

You laugh, "Jay this isn't our wedding."

He hums at first which gives you pause. Not a bad pause but a a kind where your mind is racing with thoughts. Thoughts about you and Jason and how serious you guys are.

Jason is a jokester sometimes. Yeah his dad's emo phase can always be slipped into the conversation, but there are certain things he doesn't tease about. Clowns and bad haircuts to name two.

"Jay?" you ask.

"I'll see you on the carpet sweetheart." he answers.

There's no sadness in his voice. He sounds normal. But you can't help but notice theres still more to it.

And then because it's Jason he doesn't hang up first. No. He waits for you to hang up which you are reluctant to do because of what he said. But you do only because the makeup team is waiting and you aren't in your outfit yet.

You quickly walk back out to your makeup chair.

From there it's actually a pretty easy process. They put the final touches on your makeup and give your hair a blowout. Then you're in the bathroom putting on your outfit.

Within an hour you're tucked into the backseat of a town car. Your usual driver, Mike, is on vacation. So most of the talking comes from your agent and manager.

The drive isn't long. The hotel you were getting ready at wasn't too far from where the awards were taking place. You were excited but tremendously nervous.

In the backseat you ring your fingers and your leg is bouncing up and down. If Jason were sat beside you, you wouldn't be this nervous. You want call him but honestly he needed to get ready too. And you didn't want to talk about your relationship in front of three people who weren't in it.

So you sit in silence. You smile and nod when you're asked questions, all the way until the drive pulls up to the theatre.

You can hear the cheering and the clambering outside before the door even opens. You are escorted out of the car and outside. You manager is telling you which reporters are ready to speak to you and how long to pose for each picture.

And that sounds good and all. But your eyes catch on you man. Huddled around his team in a suit. He doesn't seem to notice you yet. You watch as he nods along and his green eyes flitter around.

You can't help the smile on your face. Somehow, because it's Jason Todd, he can feel you smiling somewhere in his vicinity. His eyes lock on you instantly.

Yeah you could totally see yourself walking down the aisle, and him waiting for you at the other end. One day.

You wave at him and he does the same, a smirk on his face.

Of course you probably won't be able to speak to him until you're done on the carpet. There were so many people in line to be interviewed and photographed. It's not like it was at your first movie premiere where he could just join you.

"You stopped listening the moment you saw him didn't you?" you manager asks.

Your eyes widen as you finally look back at her and your agent. They are looking right back at you with big smiles. Nervously you rub the back of your neck.

"To be be fair I was listening for a very long time before that." you answer.

"Sure you were, okay well you know basically everything. We'll be near you incase you need us." your agent says.

You nod your head once.

From there it's relatively easy. You get guided to the line for the carpet. Both your agent and manger sooth your nerves a bit. They talk about how good the work you've done is, how you deserve to be here and deserve to be nominated.

And as you get your picture taken you do well to listen for instruction but also stand your ground. The photographers are shouting different things all at once and it's hard to follow all of them at the same time. But when your manager waves you over to an interview you know you're done.

The first interview goes by quickly. You talk about the end of the strike and what you missed most about filming, how honored you are to be nominated and you can't wait for the after party.

The second interview is more fun. That comes from Edward Nigma being really good at his questions. He asks about your humble beginnings, what your passions are outside of acting, and what you would do with more free time.

By the time you get to your fifth and final interview your brain is working on autopilot. You smile. You answer the questions in a bright voice. You thank the interviewer. The camera pivots to someone else and the microphone is taken away.

You are so tuned out that you don't notice Jason come up behind you. You had thought he was in front of you, in the theatre already. But there is only one person in the world who knows the exact juncture between your shoulder and your neck to press a kiss to.

When you feel his lip on your skin you turn around.

"Hi there." he says.

You smile and reach up to fix his bowtie, "Hey yourself handsome."

"This ole thing?" he jokes.

"You look-well I should keep that to myself. Privacy and all that." you say.

He smiles and his hand is cupping your cheek. You lean into his touch. All the nerves that your manger and agent tried to subdue finally fall to the side. You feel at ease.

"I made sure that our seats are close. At least until they call you up when you win." he says.

You snort, "Jason it's not gonna happen."

He hums, "I don't know. I would never count you out."

Soon enough you and Jason make it your seats where you have the same tiff. He thinks for sure you're gonna win while you're convinced that it won't happen.

The show starts off with a performance, courtesy of Dinah Lance. She looked amazing in her all black dress, a high slit that revealed the fishnets underneath.

You clapped at others wining awards. The composer for your movie won. And the sound mixers, designers and graphic designers too. As you got close and closer to your category you felt the turn in your stomach.

When your category finally got called Jason entangled his hand in yours. His fingers slated into yours, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. The announcers spoke all the names in the category including yours and you are sure your ears just went static.

And then you heard your name again. You look over at Jason, who has a huge smile on his face. You let out a curt breath as he helps you get to your feet. The roar of applause takes over the static in your ears.

You can't help to be shocked. Shocked as Jason helps you up the steps to accept the Oscar. You look back at him on the last step, his hand still in yours, and you bring his hand to your mouth and kiss the back of his hand.

"You did it, you did it." he says.

And then he's letting go so you can walk onto the stage and accept your award.

LEX LUTHOR IS OUT! READ FOR MORE DETAILS ABOUT THE END OF HIS HOSTILE TAKEOVER.

UNION WINS BIG! LUTHOR IS A WASHED UP TYRANT, READ FOR MORE!

THE OSCARS! READ NOW TO SEE ALL THE WINNERS INCLUDING "LOVE IN PIECES" ACTRESS!

-

You watch from your bed as Jason walks into the bedroom. He's only sporting a towel on his waist. He knows what he's doing, he's devious like that. And delicious.

From across the room you eye him. He turns his back to you as he ruffles through the cabinet for clothes. Except he's definitely going through your drawer and not his so he's not going to find what he's looking for. But you take it because you can stare right at his back.

"Baby do you need help?" you ask.

He turns around and shuts the drawer with his hips.

"Now that you've asked, yes. yes I do need help. Only the kind you can provide." he answers.

You begin to laugh at his eagerness. He struts over to you with all the swagger of a frat boy. You can't help the snort that comes from you and he smiles too.

"This is supposed to be sexy!" he says.

"Oh it is, but it's so rehearsed. I love it though." you smile.

Jason sighs. And then all of a sudden he's laying on top of you and putting all his weight on you. You know he's doing it on purpose because in the early days of this relationship Jason did his best to not even lean his body weight onto you.

That went out the window three months after you started dating.

"Jay you wanna talk about it?" you ask.

He mumbles something but you can't hear his words. How could you when his head it nestled into your neck. His stubble is tickling you in the best way possible. You reach up and card your hand through his hair.

"Didn't hear a word you said baby." you say.

He picks his head up and looks at you now, with a pout on his lips. You lean in and give him a small peck. He of course isn't good at taking only one peck, always the needy one. He leans in and gives you three more.

"I'm just trying to seduce my Oscar winning partner. Is that so bad?" he asks.

You shut your eyes with a giggle, "Oh not this, come on it's not a big deal."

"It's literally the biggest of deals. Like it's one of the four biggest deals. You're close to an EGOT hun." he rambles.

You peel open one eye and look at him. How could you disagree with that face? And those eyes? You cup the side of his face with your hand.

"Thank you for making me feel like a big deal. I promise I do find you sexy." you say.

Jason lets out a dramatic sigh of relief, "Thank you. And anyways I'm just following your cosmopolitan article." he says.

Your eyes widen and you gasp.

"Jay! You did not just take advice from a magazine, you're like a walking greek god." you laugh.

"Greek god you say?" he asks.

But he isn't asking. Not when he starts planting kisses on your shoulder and your neck. It makes you giggle and it makes your stomach warm. You wrap both of your arms around him.

"I can't believe I get to be on set with you tomorrow." you say.

"I can't believe I get to be on set with my Oscar winning co-star." he replies.

"Does this mean I get top billed?" you ask.

"I wrote it into my contract a long time ago, keep up sweetheart." he says.

CAMERAS ARE ROLLING: LOVE ON THE MEND CREW IS BACK!

LOVE ON THE MEND: EVERYONE IS BACK ON SET, SEE PICS.

WHEN CAN WE EXPECT TO SEE LOVE ON THE MEND THEATERS? CLICK FOR INFO!

-

Jason stands in the door of your shared trailer. He was told to come and bring you on set to start filming a scene between you two. It had started with Jason's character by himself and then you were to appear as a daydream. 

Which, he definitely said you already do, no matter how cheesy that sounded. You still gave him a peck for such beautifully strong words. 

When he got to the trailer door he heard you singing already. He had gotten you some new headphones since you kept complaining about your earbuds going wonky. He was surprised how long you hung onto those, five years. 

Now he's watching you sing along as you rearrange the script on your table. The only way you could learn lines fast enough was to spread them all out and keep them in your peripheral vision. He's not sure how you do it.

But he watches as you tap your feet along to a tune he doesn’t know and with your hands on your hips you stare down the papers. You’re already dressed in the scene outfit, a white dress. Simple but enough to make his heart do the thing where he thinks nothing can be real if you exist. 

He can’t help to be transfixed on you. He leans against the doorway and just watches with a smile.

Truthfully he couldn’t believe the person of his dreams was dating him and smiling his way, sending him gifts and letting him spend time in their bed. And when he says person of his dreams he means it.

The first time he saw your face wasn’t when the two of you were sat in a room going over the movie contract. Nope. He think he’ll take this secret with him to the wedding aisle and wait until he can slip it into his vows how bad he has it for you.

On moments like this, when it’s just you and him, he wants to tell you so bad. But he thinks waiting is the better option. What other way to press you ?

All of a sudden you’re turning around and you literally jump at this sight of him. Your mouth goes from a gaps to a smile. Then you’re bustling over to him and throwing your arms around him, earbuds still in. 

“Missed you sweetheart.” he says.

His hands wrap around your middle. He could literally lock his arms together and not let you go but that would be unwise and costly. Filming and all that. So he settles with just having his body pressed up against yours, warm and inviting. 

You bite back a laugh, “Jay we woke up in the same bed a couple of hours ago!”

“I’m a simple man. You’re gone for more than ten minutes I miss you.” he explains.

He watches the way your eyes go wide first and the smirk that dances it’s way across your face. Your fingers card through the hair at the back of his head.

“I’m sorry baby. Wanna go to set together?” you ask.

He smiles, “I am personally here to see to that. Come on.” 

You untangle yourself from him, which earns you a groan. He watches as you scoop up the papers on the table and pull on a robe to cover your costume. He doesn’t mind because he knows you two are about to be filming for an hour or so and he’ll see all of you then.

A vision in white.

“Come on bub.” you say.

And the definitely kick starts something in him. He smiles and follows you out of your trailer. The two of you walk all the way to the set. For the sequence being filmed today you two would just be fooling around in a very chic and vibrant living room and then bedroom. 

Then you two get on set of course you are pulled in a different direction than him. You’re going over your lines with one of the writers. Then you’re getting touched up by the makeup artists. Touch ups with your costume. And then Harvey wants a word.

Jason lets himself get pulled too. Touch ups. Lines. Harvey. Sure. He doesn’t mind really. Because he’s basically filming his everyday life with you.

When Harvey calls action you and Jason take your spots. Jason takes your hands into his and brings each of them to his lips. You roll your eyes at him, as depicted in the script.

The two of you get into sync fairly quickly. You two are standing in the living room. The fake window open and the curtains moving in the breeze. Your hands wrapped around his neck, dancing to music that isn’t playing.

Then you two are on the couch in different positions. Him on the floor, one of your legs thrown over his shoulder. The two of you laying on one another on the couch. Him sitting normally and your legs over his lap.

Finally it was time to get to the bedroom scenes. They were noting raunchy. Just the two of you goofing around. You chase him around the bed, you end up pinning him down and tickling him. Then you two are sitting with your backs against the head board, your hands together and fingers intertwined.

At some point Jason is moving you forward to personally fluff your pillows, which makes you laugh. You lean over and kiss his cheek, which makes him smile. 

Then Harvey is yelling cut and everyone’s moving around set. You will have to film a couple more takes of this scene but you don’t mind. How could you? You get to fool around with your favorite person in the world like you usually do sans cameras and you were getting paid for it.

You have already gotten so used it this, you remember what life was like before he was in it and hope you never have to do that again.

LOVE ON THE MEND SHOOTS FINAL SCENES! HARVEY TALKS ABOUT ONE-UPING HIS OWN ROMCOM!

COUNTDOWN TO LOVE ON THE MEND: MONTHS! KEEP UP WITH SET PICS HERE!

-

The press junket was just as nerve wracking the second time around. Yeah that was never gonna change. Tons of people asking you questions over and over was hard. Making sure to sell the movie and not spoil it was even harder.

You had been paired with Jason the first time and he was really good at playing off your vibe. But that had been before you were dating. Now things were different. There would be more questions about the two of you outside of the film. Part of you didn’t care, but a bigger part of you worried about what you would say.

The next interviewer comes in with the BBC-Bludhaven Broadcasting Channel. They were always polite and playful. You aren’t worried. And that worry drops even more so when you see Donna Troy walk in.

“Hi guys!” she says.

You both wave at her, “Hi!” 

You watch as she gets mic’ed up. And then she’s sitting in front of you both with purple notecards. She talks to the imaginary audience first and then you.

“So, guys, obviously you’ve cooked up some good stuff that has gotten awards. One in particular because now we’re sitting with an Oscar winner.” she says.

And you still can’t believe it yourself so whenever someone else brings it up you can’t help to be bashful about it.

“Oh…” you laugh.

Jason points to you with both his hands, “If anyone was unclear, it’s not me.” 

You wave off his hands which he dodges and still points to you. But he cuts it out soon enough, he knows you too well to let it drag on. 

“It’s a big accomplishment, so congrats!” Donna says.

You smile, “Thank you.”

“So you’re basically an EGOT now—“ she starts.

You burst out laughing at that and so does Jason. Then Donna too but she tries to compose herself for the most part, clearing her throat and adjusting her hair. You pull yourself together.

“I mean yeah. Sure.” you answer.

“So have you decided what you’ll melt the gold down into?” She asks with a straight face.

Jason yelps, “Donna?!”

“Maybe a house key.” you say blankly.

“Good for you!” she says.

“But I can’t now because I just admitted to it on camera. I’ll have to come up with something else.” you joke.

“Of course, and you can text me your idea. It’ll stay between us.” she adds.

You nod your head, “You’re on speed dial actually.” 

“Number nine?” Donna jokes.

“No you’re at—wait do they still do numbers? Okay wait never mind, I meant you’re in my favorites.” you answer.

Donna gasps and holds her hands, and notecards, to her heart.

“Okay Jason,” she holds out her notecards again, “what type of hair gel do you use on set?”

“I legally can’t answer that actually because no one on set would tell me the products they used in fear that I would just buy them myself and do their work for them.” he answers.

“Remember when you gave yourself a bowl cut?” she asks.

You laugh again, “What?!” 

“That was one time—and I didn’t look that bad!” he shouts.

“I remember your brother said you cried yourself to sleep for two weeks.” Donna says.

You wrap your arm around his shoulder and pull him in closer, “Aw Jay, you had a bowl cut?”

“Very funny sweetheart.” he says.

You pinch his cheeks, “I kinda wish I could see it.”

“Oh but you can!” Donna says. 

She fishes out her phone.

“Donna! No!” Jason yells. The two of them start full in running around the room. You watch in amusement. 

“Donna slow down I did Hot Ones yesterday and I haven’t been the same since.” Jason says.

You laugh even harder at that.

JASON TODD BEING IN LOVE WITH HIS CO-STAR AND PARTNER FOR 38 MINUTES!

THE STARS OF LOVE ON THE MEND TALK SET SECRETS, THE BIG OSCAR WIN AND WHATS NEXT!

CAST OF LOVE ON THE MEND BEING CHAOTIC AND ALSO COMEDIANS FOR FOUR MINUTES STRAIGHT.

-

Dinner at Wayne manor was something you had been equal parts ready and unready for. How doe sone prepare to dine across Bruce Wayne? The man was the heartthrob of the 80s and 90s. 

It’s not like you could say definitively you didn’t have a crush on your boyfriends father at one point in your life. And maybe that’s the part that’s throwing you off. That and the fact that it’s a real family dinner and not another bustling gala thrown to draw you and Jason out of our recluse. 

You had finished filming and in another three months the film would be out. But you and Jason have been using that time for yourselves. 

Sure you’d hang out with your friends and go out in public from time to time. But technically the press junket was over for a month and change.

And the two of you wanted to be just that, the two of you. 

There were long nights at the beach, trips to the bookstore, date nights. It was easy and fun and your own bubble with Jason. No one came around to poke it.

So stepping into Wayne manor felt like your bubble was really close to a garden of cacti. Ready to burst at any moment. You and Jason tug off your jackets and put them on the coat hanger.

Once you’re done you stand still as Jason starts to move around. It takes him five seconds to realize that you had stayed glued to the hardwood floor. He makes a u turn and comes back over to you.

“It’s low stakes by the way since they all love you anyways.” Jason says with his hand on the small of your back.

You can’t help to snicker, “And more than you right?”

“But every year without fail I get birthday presents that are well thought and planned in advance.” he answers.

Before either of you can say another word, Damian comes from one of the doors. He is dressed in his school uniform and you can’t help to smile at how cute he looks. 

“Damian!” you shout.

He comes running over to you and hugs you. The sight makes Jason surprised but also very happy. Damian wasn’t a hard person to please, he just took time and has a lot of boxes to check off. And you managed to do all of that within the time you stepped into his life.

You hug the boy back.

“I missed you. So has Sir BillingsWorth.” he says.

“I missed you too. But I’m free the next few weeks, we can plan something.” you offer.

Damian pulls always immediately, “I will be vacationing the upcoming week but after that.”

“Oh cool, where are you going?” you ask.

Jason snickers, “Don’t ask or you’ll have to be part of his alibi later on. Trust me.” 

“Shut it Todd.” Damian whispers.

“So what inhumane zoo are you planning on raiding next?” Jason asks.

You look at Jason shocked. You think surely Damian Wayne isn’t going to raid an entire zoo by himself. He’s got a big heart for animals and would do anything for them. But would his father just allow him to—wait he’s done this before. You sworn you’ve seen an article about him leaving an animal sanctuary with a lump in his jacket. 

“Don’t plan any trips to the south any time soon.” Damian answers simply. 

And then he’s off. You two watch in bewilderment as his small body disappears behind another door. You turn to Jason. “He’s more like you than either of you care to admit.” you say.

Jason gasps, “Bite your tongue!” 

Jason manages to get you to start moving again. With his and still on your back he walks you all the way to the dinning room. There at the table is the Wayne family. And no they aren’t sat quietly at their seats. 

Damian is picking up food from a plate and setting it down on the floor. Your eyes follow his actions to see a big dog sitting on the floor underneath the table. Titus. You look back up when Bruce tells Damian to not overfeed him. Tim and Steph are snickering on their phones. Duke and Cass are playing a hand-game very loudly. And then there is Dick Grayson. He’s the only one in the family you haven’t met yet. He was always just busy. Sure you’ve interacted online before but this was different. 

“Guys!” Jason shouts.

Everyone goes stone still and looks your way. All at once they start trying to talk to you which makes you even more nervous. Jason has to reign them in again for you.

“Guys!”

They all stop.

“Hi…” you trail off.

“Welcome, please sit. There’s plenty of food.” Bruce answers.

You and Jason take your seats at the end of the table, across from each other. Coincidentally Jason takes the seat next to Duke which means you take the seat next to Dick.

He smiles your way and offers you his hand. You take it and shake it.  

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” he says.

“You as well.” you answer.

“It would have been sooner but I’ve just been a bit busy—“ he starts.

You shake your head, “No no no, it’s okay. Plus we’re meeting now.”

“Thanks to my little brother, who by the way I’ve never seen like this before.” Dick says.

“Like what?” you ask.

“L-word.”

Is your heart beating in your chest? You have to make sure. Surely it is. But surely it isn’t if Dick Grayson is telling you that his brother is in love with you. It’s not like you don’t know how much he cares for you, you see it every day, he shows it and tells you all the time. But to have someone else see inside the bubble you two made…

You look over at Jason who is trying to get in on the hand-game between Duke and Cass. You can’t help to smile.

You had known for some time now that you’re in love with him but to hear it might be in love with you. Yeah that would be everything. 

LOVE ON THE MEND CO-STARS BEACH ESCAPADE? SEE PICS FOR YOURSELF!

NYSSA AL-GHUL: UPCOMING SHOW, STRIKE WIN, AND LOVE ON THE MEND (SEE WHAT WAS SAID ABOUT HER CO-STARS BUDDING ROMANCE)

-

“Okay I just finished the boxes in the kitchen.” Jason says.

You nod, “Good. I’m closed to finish in here, just one more box. It’s your books.” 

“You can stack ‘em any way you want. I’m gonna start on lunch.” 

“Okay!” 

You had been tasked with unpacking the living room. Or, unpacking Jason’s stuff into your living room. Your press junket was about to start again in two weeks and you had asked him on the sly if he would like to make your living arrangement more permeant.

He spent more hours at your house than he did his own. And it’s not like he’s giving up his house either. He just took all the things he needed or wanted from there and put them in boxes so that he could have them here.

Most of the things were needed. Clothes. Bath bombs and his skin care routine. His laptop and his gaming system. Alf of course his books. You think if he could Jason would retire from acting and become a book seller or a book keeper. Maybe both.

You tear open the box with your hands and find it filled with books. Romance books. You knew he was a romance guy but you severely underestimated how much that was true. You pull out stacks at a time and put them on the floor.

Then you being to shelve them by author name on the bookcase you just brought for him. You would do color but every time you go to his house you notice Jason has them sorted either by name or height. 

As you get to the last books your eyes catch on something familiar. And what would be more familiar than your own face?

You pick up the book slowly. There is no way. There is no way he just has this book? When did he find it? 

You remember your manager telling you that the books stopped using your face a few months ago. Which means anyone who had them had brought them from re-sellers who had gotten them during the time the print was still active. 

“Uh, quick question.” you say.

“Shoot, lover.” he says. Then he’s walking into the living room where you are. He looks right at you without a worry on his face. He’s got on the apron you brought him as a joke. It was bright red and in white letters said ‘wanna lift the hood?’

His eyes then fall to the book in your hand and his smile drops. You watch in real time as his ears then his cheeks go red. He scratches behind his head.

“So you have this book with my face on it…” you trail off.

Jason laughs sheepishly. Then all of a sudden he’s taking off his apron and sitting next to you, like on his knees and his body angled right at you. You want to laugh at his alertness but you don’t want to ruin the moment.

“Look it’s not weird—I just had it before I met you. I didn’t, well if you want someone to blame you can find Bruce because he gifted it to me.” Jason rambles.

You nod along, “so you totally knew who I was when we first met?” 

“No I didn’t know who you were, I know how you looked which is completely different. I mean sitting across from you was like a dream come true.” 

“What?” You ask.

Jason breathes out slow. You watch this and decide to take his hands into yours. Your thumbs rub across the back of his hand, trying to comfort him, and urging him to go on.

“I have liked you from the moment I saw you, which was because of this book cover. And then one day you’re sitting across from me in a room about a romcom and I swore that fate or destiny was real because it lead me to you. And I can’t even begin to tell you how in love with you I am.” he speaks.

You know you’re tearing up because you sniffle through your nose. Which makes Jason let go of your hands and cup both sides of your face. 

“Don’t cry, hun.” he says.

“Sorry I’m just—you’re just. Everything.” you respond.

“I was planning on telling you.” 

You cock your head to the side, “When?”

“I guess after we had a conversation about how we both feel about marriage.” he answers.

Your eyes go wide.

“It doesn’t have to be now, don’t worry sweetheart. I can wait if your not ready. Or I can be okay if you won’t be ready.” he starts.

You shake your head violently, “No Jason it’s not that.”

How do you put it into words? How do you tell the man you’re in love with that you would marry him no questions asked and no regrets on a moments notice? How do you put it all nice and neat?

You turn your face inward and press a cheek to the inside of his hand. Jason smiles. You can faintly see his eyes get watery.

“Jason, growing up I didn’t think I was the marriage type. I always thought marriage was a thing you do for something or someone. But when I’m with you it’s different. It’s something I want to do with you.” you explain.

“You wanna marry me?” he asks softly.

You nod your head, “Whenever, wherever.” 

Jason can’t stop smiling. You can’t either. And when he pulls you in for a kiss it’s a mess of lips and teeth and giggles. But neither of you care. And neither of you care when you fall over top of him and he’s laying onto of his books that are poking into back.

This is what you wanted for the rest of your life. Jason Todd.

LOVE ON THE MEND PREMIERE WEEK: CATCH AN ADVANCE SCREENING AT THE GREEK THEATRE!

CRITICS CALL LOVE ON THE MEND JASON TODD’S BEST PERFORMANCE TO DATE! ROTTEN TOMATOES STAYS AT 95%!

DAMIAN WAYNE SHUTS DOWN ILLEGAL ANIMAL FARM IN FLORIDA, BRINGS HOME A NEW PET!

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 36

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: the next chapter is gonna be the last one and i think i’m gonna need therapy. hope you enjoy this chapter x

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N was dressed in a baby pink and white tweed two piece, her almond white heel hitting the ground as she looked around the same halls she used to run as a child. Yet, this time everything seemed a bit more somber, the red of the walls seemed to almost swallow her in her own mind. Everything seemed a blur to her, from Dan showing up at the house with most of Mr. Forrest’s men to Sebastian being taken away. She wasn’t sure how long it had been, all she knew was that she had been moved around by Dan and several other associates from place to place until she had finally been placed in her old bedroom of her childhood home. However, the home no longer felt like home and as she waited outside Mr. Forrest’s office, fingers picking at the fabric of the very expensive skirt which for the first time seemed to fit her like a second skin. 

The door opened and one of the maids gave her a kind smile before pulling the door completely open. She stood up on her heels, wondering what awaited her behind the threshold into the office of the man she had just discovered was her father. Not that it was a completely bad new, Mr. Forrest had never been anything other than kind to her but it was odd. It was odd that the father she always wished would be around during Father’s day, who would come to see her recitals had always been there but at the same time it wasn’t. He had always been in the crowd, unbeknownst to her and as she stepped inside his office and looked at the man she had seen ever since was little standing up, staring at her as if she would disappear at any minute, she wondered how she felt. Between Sebastian and being moved around like a lost package hadn’t given her enough time to even consider how she felt about her actual parentage. The young just turned heiress wasn’t sure how she felt about actually having one parent alive yet being somehow the reason as to why her mother wasn’t around anymore.

    - I know you probably have several questions, Y/N. - his voice trembled, almost in fear of what his daughter had pent up inside of her. - If you allowed me, I would like to explain it to you what really happened.

    - I guess. - her hands held the top of the chair, not sure if she should sit or not. 

    - I really loved your mother. I met her at the Opera, I swear I can still hear her voice in the quiet of the night ... I nicknamed her Robin, gave her the necklace you’re wearing. She loved you so much, she painted your nursery herself, spent hours and hours deciding on a name before finally sticking with Ella and would constantly read you her favourite books even before you were born. We were so ready to have you but after your mother I just, I just couldn’t let anything bad happen to you. I thought many times about placing you with some of my associates but then they put you in my arms and I saw your mother’s eyes on you, how tiny you were, I just couldn’t let you go. I do realise it was selfish of me and I know you probably will never forgive me for lying all these years but all I did was to protect you ... Not that it worked very well in the end. 

Y/N just starred at the powerful man in front of her lay it all down. Maybe it was her curse to get powerful man at their most vulnerable yet Y/N just couldn’t be mad. She knew she should be mad, she should be mad that all this time she had a father, she had a completely different name in her mother’s eyes without even mentioning being in the shadow. Yet, she couldn’t be mad, when she looked at him all she saw was a man who had lost the woman he loved and the opportunity of having a daughter, or at least having her the way everyone ordinarily had one. 

She sighed, a faint smile pulling at the corner of her lips as she walked closer to the old man, wrapping her arms around him. What use was it be mad? They had both lost something, something important and while Y/N had lost her mother, he had lost the woman he loved. As much love Y/N held for the mother she never knew, her father had lost the woman he had loved and the opportunity to have an ordinary lifestyle. She was in no place to be mad at someone who had lost so much.

   - I forgive you. - she took a step back, her eyes slightly glancing to the little robin attached to the golden chain. 

   - We should get some dinner. I would love to show you some photos from when your mother was pregnant. 

   - I would love to but I’m afraid I have to check on someone. - Y/N wasn’t entirely sure if she should mention her relationship with Sebastian. She had mostly begged Daniel not to mention it and while Gwen had jetted off the moment she didn’t have to get married anymore, she was wise enough not to drop it on her newly found father that she was not only in a relationship with the man who was supposed to marry Gwen just a few weeks ago but also pregnant. Either way, she wanted to go check on Sebastian. No matter how much she asked, no one would tell her anything and her phone had been removed right when they both were rescued from Mr. Williams. - Maybe later on?

   - Make sure you take Daniel with you. - Y/N nodded as one of the employees escorted her outside the study and back to the hallway where Dan was.  She gave him a playful smile before walking up to whom she guessed she now had to call her step-brother, not that he hadn’t act like one since she was a little girl. 

   - Tweed? Starting to dress like an heiress, Y/N? 

   - One of the maids left it in my bedroom. - she twisted her foot slightly behind her, a bit of heat climbing up to his cheeks. - Mr. Forrest, I mean, my father said I need to take you if I wanna go somewhere. 

   - It’s okay, he only told me he was his father when I was 10. You get used to it eventually. 

  - How do you get used to suddenly becoming first in line to owning ... - she motioned around her. - All of this. 

  - I’m sure you can ask Sebastian for help. - his words made her stop on her tracks, a furrowed eyebrow at his statement before Daniel took a file from under his shirt. - I had my suspicions but after he was ready to sign off his place in the mob for you ... well, didn’t take long to puzzle it out. 

  - Did you tell anyone? - she grabbed the file away from him, not wanting anyone to hold it and mostly because she wished to destroy it or give it to Sebastian. 

  - I don’t think Gwen would be too interested in it considering she went on holiday with one of his bodyguards the moment she got told the wedding was off. Besides, if someone is to tell our father about it, it certainly won’t be me. 

  - I thought you hated Sebastian. I’m sure you called them standoffish and murderous. 

  - I still dislike him but ... you like him and considering you’re gonna be my boss someday, I don’t think I should really go against what you want. 

Y/N merely chuckled at him as both of them got into the car and, following a bit of banter discussing if it was the best idea to go visit Sebastian or not, started to drive up to the Upper East Side. Sebastian hadn’t been taken to the hospital despite most of Y/N’s complaining, whenever she did all Dan would say ‘we don’t want the police in our business’ so all she could think about was if he was alright and recovering just fine. It wasn’t like someone would harm her if she made a call, however Dan and the other associates were firm on keeping Y/N as isolated as possible for the very first weeks.

Maybe it had been for the best, she had spent the two weeks feeling sick or very tired and weirdly enough, only a few days ago had she been able to get up without feeling like a goblin. However, she sure hoped he was alright and as his apartment because visible, her heart soared. It wasn’t like Sebastian had tried to contact her either, maybe he didn’t want to see her. After all, she was the reason he had three bullet holes in his body. As Dan parked in front of the building, her heart beat faster.

    - I’ll wait for you here. - Dan took her off her mindset. - Be safe, okay? 

    - I will. - Y/N climbed off the car, scarily walking over to the door which was opened by the doorman with a smile on his face. She entered the very familiar lift, looking at the light buttons on the switch panel until the penthouse was reached. The doors opened horizontally and the once familiar house felt cold. Maybe it was because there just wasn’t so much staff running around. Actually, she could only spot a few bodyguards and overall staff before Amelia came strutting her way.

   - Miss Y/N, I was so worried. When you didn’t come back with Mr. Sebastian. Thank god you’re alright, you look so good. 

   - Yeah, they’ve been moving me around for a few weeks. Do you reckon I could see Sebastian?

   - He’s been in his room for a few weeks, doctor’s orders. I told him to go the hospital but the police rule. - she started to walk up the stairs with Y/N right behind her until she led her to Sebastian’s room. - You let me know if you need anything.

Y/N took a deep breathe, trying to shoo away all of the negative thoughts she had within her mind before pulling on the door handle, pushing the door open to see Sebastian laid down in bed surrounded by several papers, most likely contracts, with his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. She leaned against the wood of the door lining, her eyes calmly set on his tense forehead as he went through each paper faster than a computer, writing what looked like unreadable calligraphy. He was the one to notice her first, taking his glasses off as a soft smile appeared on his face.

    - Didn’t think your father would let you near me any time soon. - he spoke out, voice slightly raspy as if he hadn’t caught a wink of sleep in the past weeks. Y/N merely rolled her eyes at his statement, walking up to his bed and taking a seat in a spot free of papers. - Are you alright?

    - I should be asking you that. - her hand creeped up to his, her fingers shyly touching his. - You should’ve gone to the hospital, Sebastian.

    - Just bullet wounds, angel, nothing new. 

    - I thought I lost you, Sebastian. You didn’t try to reach out to me for two weeks, I was worried. - she bite down onto her lip, afraid her emotions would get the best of her. Sebastian noticed this, pushing the contracts away from his lap before his hands wrapped around her waist, pushing her closer to him despite the lingering pain of the gun shot wounds still present but he didn’t care.

    - Angel, I thought you were gonna die and it was my fault. I promised nothing bad would happen to you and that ... that despicable rat had you chained to the ground .. the things he said he would do to you and if he had done it it would’ve been my fault.

   - Sebastian, it’s not your fault. - her hand raised to caress his jaw. - You couldn’t have done anything, whatever he wanted ... it goes way past me and you. 

   - I allowed him to be near you and I let you be alone at the hotel ... I should’ve just ran off with you, I should’ve just ... I should’ve just told you I loved you when I had the shot, we could’ve jus ...

   - It’s no good to live in the past, Seb. You’re okay, I’m okay, we’re fine. Whatever happened, let’s just forget it. - she took the documents from her purse handing it to him. - I thought you should have those. I don’t think it would be very safe for those papers to be wandering around. I can’t believe you would give it all up for me.

   - I would do anything for you. - he leaned his head against her shoulder. - How is the baby? 

   - Baby’s fine, probably got tired of making me feel miserable all the time. - she made herself comfortable in his bed. - How do you feel about it? The baby, I mean.

   - I would’ve rather heard about it in a less stressing situation but I just can’t really believe it. Somewhere in my life I must’ve done something good, I must’ve done something good because I really don’t deserve you much less a family with you.

   - I don’t really think it’s about deserving, it’s just ... maybe fated considering I was supposed to marry you all along. 

   - That is a contract marriage I can’t really complain about.

   - From now on, let it just be the two of us. Nothing else, no more Gwen, no more lost parents, just ... an ordinary family. 

   - I’d like that.

tag list: @lilya-petrichor​ @xoxohannahlee​ @nikkipea​ @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater​ @madisonpillstrom​ @cevans98​ @thelostallycat​ @sideeffectsofyou​ @anxiousdreamersworld​ @captainchrisstan​ @lookiamtrying​ @sarge-barnes-sir​ @stuffforreferences​ @thebadassbitchqueen​ @sebastianstansqueen​ @nsfwsebbie​ @strangerliaa​ @emzd34​ @everything-is-awesomesauce​ @dreams-in-blxck​ @krismeunicornbaobei​ @buckysteveloki-me​

[josephsaturn]

Danganronpa: 10th anniversary outfits review!

So…quick thought here…I have almost no context for any other character outside of dr1, so if u like some of these characters, and I say something construed as mean…sorry?

(Under the cut):

DANGANRONPA 1:

Makoto Naegi: 7/10

It’s fine, really. Nothing extravagant, nothing stupid

Kiyotaka Ishimaru: 7/10

The only thing I have to say is that I like the color scheme: it takes from his school uniform, and that palette looks great on him!

Byakuya Togami: 8/10

I like it. The fur coat works for his personality, and the color palette works as well.

Mondo Ōwada: 9/10

I’m not exactly sure what this is supposed to be, but it looks great! The palette looks nice and the coat & pants have a really cool design on them.

Leon Kuwata: 7/10

The plaid looks nice, but in all honesty, I don’t really think it fits his character well.

Hifumi Yamada: 9/10

Not gonna lie…I’m actually loving the pinstripes! He kinda looks like a mobster from Guys and Dolls, and considering that’s one of my favorite musicals, it gets an instant high score from me!

Yasuhiro Hagakure: 9/10

That color combo looks really good on him! I’m kinda glad Spike Chunsoft loves putting Hiro in bright clothes, since they fit so well on him!

Sayaka Maizono: 8/10

It’s fairly basic…but it’s cute at least. Also, I like the little detail that she’s holding a yellow rose, since those mean both friendship, and more commonly, jealousy

Kyoko Kirigiri: 7/10

It’s fine. I don’t hate it, but I think they could’ve done a bit better. In all honesty, I think it would’ve been cool if they put her into a “little black dress” like the one in breakfast at Tiffany’s: simple, but elegant nonetheless.

Aoi Asahina: 9/10

I am fully willing to admit I’m biased, so I will. I’m in LOVE with this dress, and Aoi’s rockin’ it!

Tōko Fukawa: 9/10

I really like this dress! The colors, the accessory, the design, her hair, it’s all great!

Sakura Ōgami: 10/10

YESSS QUEEN FUCK IT UUUPPPPP

Honestly, I love this Kimono! The bright pink and yellow, the (I’m assuming) Chrysanthemums, her hair and the decorations, I love it all, and she looks stunning!

Celestia Ludenberg: 7/10

I…kinda like it? The palette’s nice, and the general feel of it is regal-esque, but I personally kinda don’t like it. I feel like they should’ve gone with something more Victorian or Rococo style for her

Junko Enoshima: 10/10

I’m in LOVE with this dress, and it looks gorgeous! I especially love the little masque that pays homage to Monokuma, and the crown being used as kinda like a hairtie! It really looks like something a fashionista would wear!

Chihiro Fujisaki: 7/10

WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE A LEPRECHAUN AHAHAHAH

I don’t hate it, but they could’ve been just a bit more creative, I think.

Overall: 0/10, no Mukuro outfit

Jk, 8/10

Danganronpa 2

Hajime Hinata: 8/10

I like the white tux, but it looks like a lot of his palette was just eyedropped from his uniform

Rat Man (more commonly known as Nagito Komaeda): 9/10

I love the way this tux looks on him! The white jacket looks great, and so do the designs on it!

Byakuya Togami: 7/10

It’s alright. Nothing bad, nothing new. Maybe if they gave him a different tux design I wouldn’t mind, but as it is, it’s just fine

Gundham Tanaka: 9/10

I really like the accent colors, and the boa is a nice touch as well

I love the hamsters’ outfits! They’re adorable!!

Kazuichi Sōda: 6/10

This isn’t bad, but it just, once again, looks like they just eyedropped his normal uniform colors onto a tux. It’s not bad, but it does feel a bit lazy

Teruteru Hanamura: 9/10

This might seem like an unpopular opinion (and it is)…but I love this outfit! It’s cute, the accent colors and accessories themselves are cute, and Teruteru’s the only boy wearing a cummerbund (fun fact!)

Nekomaru Nidai: 9/10

I’m in LOVE with this guy’s design

I really like the double-breasted jacket (that’s actually what it’s called, I’m not being horny), and the colors look great on him! My only complaint is the fact that he’s wearing boaters. They’re not bad shoes, but I just don’t get why he’s wearing them

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu: 7/10

I like his color scheme, but if there were any place to put pinstripes, it’s this guy, due to his title. Also, what’s with the rolled up pants? Is he wanting to wear shorts? He does look like a kid…

Akane Owari: 10/10

I ADORE THIS ONE. The pants, the blouse, the color, the CAPE…HOO BOOOYYYYY

Chiaki Nanami: 8/10

I like the color scheme, but, again, the dress seems a little plain. She’s the ultimate gamer, and you’re telling me you can’t reference a video game dress? Really?

Sonia Nevermind: 10/10

I am IN LOOOVEEEE WITH THIS DESIGNNNNN

the way this dress looks is GORGEOUS, and the palette is, once again, beautiful

Hiyoko Saionji: 8/10

It’s a very cute design, but I feel like the colors could be a bit more matched

Mahiru Koizumi: 9/10

GORGEOUS. I have no other words.

No thoughts, head empty, only GORGEOUS

Mikan Tsumiki: 5/10

Eeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I…don’t like this one

The way it shows so much skin feels a bit weird, considering fanon states some kinda physical/sexual abuse for Mikan. The only thing I like is the color scheme

The pillbox hat & color scheme makes me think of Jackie Kennedy, so why not put her in something like that? Something a bit more conservative, but still pretty

Ibuki Mioda: 9/10

I really like this one! It seems a bit avant-garde, & I respect that for a character like ibuki

Not to mention it just looks pretty in general

Peko Pekoyama: 8/10

I love the monochrome color scheme and the way her Kimono looks, and her accessories look great as well!

Overall: 8/10!

Danganronpa V3

Rantaro Amami: 8/10

Meh, it looks good, but I think it’s kinda bland

Kokichi Ōma: 7/10

The outfit looks great, but this dude’s HAIR…DISGOSTANG

Like…it’s long enough to put into a rat-man ponytail, so why not do THAT?

K1-B0: 10/10

You know I’m right.

Gonta Gokuhara: 9/10

I like the color scheme a lot, and the chequerboard looks great on him! What a gentleman!

Shuichi Saihara: 5/10

I’m just not a fan of tweed…but also, this just doesn’t look good on him. What they should’ve done was give him something in a different color palette. Maybe reference a 1940s suit for extra levity!

Korekiyo shingūji: 7/10

Idk…everything’s’ fitting together, but at the same time…not. I do like the hakama, tho, & the color palette is once again, eyedropped

Ryoma Hoshi: 9/10

I love the color scheme, the pinstripes look great, and I love both the gloves and the fedora!

Kaito Momota: 7/10

He just kinda looks, once again, like a formal version of his school uniform. It doesn’t look bad, but there’s gotta be something more creative than that

Kaede Akamatsu: 8/10

I really like the color scheme and her decorations, and the ruffles look adorable! It gives off a very “goddess of flowers” vibe, and I love it

Miu Iruma: 100/10

BAHAHAHA WHY DOES SHE LOOK LIKE JEANNE FROM BAYONETTA?

NO SERIOUSLY LOOK:

In all seriousness tho, I do love the dress, it’s so sophisticated and the color palette/ accessories only complement the outfit

Tsumugi Shirogane: 8/10

Meh, the dress is cute, and the color scheme looks nice, but I just kinda wish they swapped the colors of the boa and dress. I think that’d look better

Tenko Chabashira: 9/10

She looks like Willy Wonka……but it works. I like the short skirt-pants, the hose, and overall, it looks great!

We need more people wearing cummerbunds!

(Number of kids wearing cummerbunds: 2)

Kirumi Tōjo: 8/10

She kinda looks like a character from……Genshin, I think? Either way, it looks pretty, but I think they could’ve done better.

Maki Harukawa: 6/10

I don’t really understand the color situation: why is the bodice pink, but the bottom a gradient from eggshell white to egg yolk yellow? If they’d chosen better colors I think I might like the dress better

Himiko Yumeno: 10/10

I love this dress. It’s so cute, and the use of translucent, glittery fabric really makes it look whimsical! She looks like a magical girl, which I guess is the point

Angie Yonaga: 9/10

I’m not exactly sure what she’s wearing, but I do love the colors. They fit really well, and it looks good on her!

Overall: 8/10

[buckybarnesdollface]

Thought It’d Be Harmless

Summary: When work brings reader back to New York City, she has to face her lingering feelings for a certain supersoldier.

Based on "Sex (With My Ex)" by Fletcher

Warnings: Female Reader, Smut, Angst, not a happy ending

           Christmas in New York was just as I remembered it – Storefronts overflowing with holiday décor, trees and shrubs adorned with twinkling lights, and people pushing past each other, in a rush to get everything done before the big day. It had been a few years since I’d been in the city during Christmas, but an assignment I’d been sent on had brought me back. Growing up in London, I was used to extravagant holiday displays, but New York at Christmastime would always hold a special place in my heart.

           At the moment, though, it was neither my assignment nor the holidays that had me walking down Prospect Place in Brooklyn at dusk. The street was familiar – more familiar to me than it should have been – and my heart started beating faster as I neared my destination.

           He was standing outside the coffee shop waiting for me when I arrived, holding two to-go cups of coffee. He was dressed in jeans and a leather jacket over a plain gray t-shirt, barely enough to keep warm on a chilly December evening, if he had to worry about the cold. His face lit up with a brilliant smile when he saw me, and my heart flipped in my chest.

           “Hey,” Bucky greeted as I approached him. “I got your favourite – a hazelnut cappuccino.”

           He handed me one of the cups, and I tugged my bottom lip between my teeth. The fact that he insisted on meeting up at the place we’d had our first date and still remembered my coffee order should have annoyed me, but instead it had butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

           “Thanks,” I murmured, taking a sip and letting the hot liquid warm my insides. “I wasn’t sure you’d reach out, let alone know I was in town.”

           “Steve heard from Fury and told me,” Bucky replied, grin rueful. “It’s been awhile, I thought it’d be nice to catch up.”

           I nodded. “Right. So, did you wanna sit” – I gestured at the bistro tables outside the coffee shop – “or walk?”

           “You’ll stay warmer if we’re moving. Besides, I know how much you love Christmas in the city. I won’t deprive you of that.”

           A blush tinted my cheeks pink, but I fell into step with Bucky as we made our way down the street. Part of me knew this was a very bad idea, even seeing him, but a larger part squashed those thoughts. We were just two friends catching up; we’d keep the conversation light and carefully avoid anything to do with the past. As long as there were no expectations, it would be harmless.

           “So, how’s London?” Bucky asked as we walked. I shrugged.

           “It was always home to me, so it wasn’t much of an adjustment moving back.”

           I would have missed it had I not known him so well, but my eyes caught the way Bucky flinched at my words. I pursed my lips and shook my head.

           “I just meant that’s where I grew up –” I started, but Bucky cut me off.

           “I know what you meant, (Y/N); no need to explain.” He took a sip of his coffee – black, with two sugars, if my memory served me – and was silent a moment before speaking again. “So, the MI6," he said airily. “Must be quite the step up from S.H.I.E.L.D. You’re one of the elites now, like James Bond.”

           I snorted. “I see Sam has introduced you to another movie franchise.”

           Bucky’s grin was mischievous. “How do I know you aren’t undercover right now and trying to gather intel to take back to England?” he accused, and I arched a brow at him.    

           “You reached out to me, remember?” I pointed out. Bucky’s smile softened.

           “I did,” he agreed. “I missed you, (Y/N).”

           I froze. I shook my head, heart in my throat. “Bucky…”

           “I didn’t mean it like that, calm down. Can’t a friend tell another friend he’s missed her? We are friends, aren’t we?”

           The breath I’d been holding left my lungs in a whoosh, and I nodded dazedly. “Right. Yes. Of course. Friends,” I mumbled. Bucky gave me an inquiring look, brow furrowed and blue eyes boring into mine until I had to tear my gaze away. I took a sip of my cappuccino, fighting to steady my heart rate.

           “So, how’s the rest of the team?” I asked once I’d regained my composure. Bucky shrugged.

           “Nothing’s changed. Steve and Tony still bicker. Sam is still annoying as hell most of the time. Things are still awkward between Nat and Bruce. You know, the usual.”

           “I miss everyone,” I admitted, and Bucky’s smile was soft and sad.

           “They miss you, too, doll. You always had a way of bringing everyone together, even when we were all tired and cranky and ready to throttle each other.”

           His words left a tightness in my chest, and I frowned. We were encroaching on a dangerous topic, and if I didn’t steer the conversation elsewhere, we’d be opening a can of worms I wasn’t prepared to deal with. I forced a smile onto my face, and pointed to a group of Christmas carollers down the street.

           “Look, how wonderful!” I exclaimed, and before Bucky could say anything, I was already halfway down the street.

           It was easier than I thought to keep conversation light. We talked about our plans for Christmas, my family, the difference in weather between New York and London, and other things that two friends catching up would talk about. I had forgotten how easily conversation flowed between Bucky and I, and it wasn’t long before the tension had melted from my body and I was enjoying his company without feeling anxious.

           “You’re cold,” Bucky pointed out as I shoved my hands into the pockets of my wool peacoat.

           “Maybe a little,” I admitted, and with a frown Bucky took a gentle hold of my arm and pulled me into the nearest building.

           We were immediately met with warmth, and I shivered in relief. He had pulled us into a cozy little pub, Christmas lights lining the windows and the bar, and Frank Sinatra crooning White Christmas drifted through the air and mingled with the chatter of the bar patrons. The air smelled of beer, whiskey, and hickory smoke, and I couldn’t help but think it reminded me of the pubs back home in England.

           “How about I buy you a drink?” Bucky suggested. I pursed my lips, hesitant.

           “I really shouldn’t; it’s getting late and I have a flight to catch early tomorrow morning…” I started, but Bucky shook his head.

           “It’s just one drink, (Y/N),” he insisted. “What’s the harm? It’s still early in the night, you’ll have plenty of time to prepare for your flight tomorrow.” He paused, giving me his best wide-eyed puppy dog look – the one I had always been powerless against. I glared half-heartedly at him with a shake of my head.

           “Don’t give me that look!” I cried. “You know I’ve never been able to resist it.”

           “Exactly,” he replied with a smirk. “So, one drink?”

           “One drink,” I ceded, and Bucky grinned triumphantly as he dragged me to the bar. He ordered two Greyhounds and we settled on a couple of the barstools. “You remembered,” I murmured, taking a sip of the grapefruit and gin cocktail. Bucky grinned.

           “Does that surprise you?”

           I shook my head. “No, considering enhanced memory is one of the side effects of the supersoldier serum.”

           Bucky shrugged. “Or maybe I just paid attention.”

           Feeling my cheeks heating, I lifted the glass to my mouth and took a larger sip. The alcohol was smooth as it warmed my throat. I set the glass back down on the bar, fingertips tracing the rim as I spoke.

           “I’m going to miss New York,” I admitted, my gaze focused over Bucky’s shoulder at the window overlooking the street. “I was ecstatic when they told me my next assignment was here.”

           “So stay a little longer,” Bucky replied. “Tell them you need more time –”

           “It doesn’t work like that,” I said with a shake of my head. “I’m on a tight schedule. Plus, if I didn’t come home for Christmas, I’m positive my parents would kill me.”

           Bucky grinned. “I always was a little afraid of your father,” he admitted, and I snorted.

           “And it always amused me that the Winter Soldier was afraid of a university professor that wears tweed jackets.”

           “An Oxford University professor,” Bucky defended. “He’s so intelligent and so proper, it was intimidating. He always had a way of making me feel like I wasn’t good enough for you.”

           I frowned. “You know that’s not true,” I said quietly, and Bucky’s smile was sad.

           “Even so, we didn’t work out for a reason, huh?”

           As he looked at me, blue eyes piercing and lips quirked up the tiniest bit at one corner, I had a hard time remembering what that reason was. He was so handsome and charming, and we got on so easily, it made it difficult to remember all the sleepless nights and fights that ended in tears or one of us storming out. Or maybe I just didn’t want to remember how poorly we handled our disagreements.

           Shaking my head, I downed the rest of my drink, and I didn’t even notice when the bartender switched my empty glass for a full one. I took another long gulp and then cocked my head to the side. Bucky was regarding me with an unreadable expression.

           “What?” I asked.

           “Nothing. You.”

           I wrinkled my nose. “What is that supposed to mean?”

           “I’m proud of you,” he murmured, and my brow furrowed deeper as a blush crept up my neck. He continued, voice soft. “I know Fury wasn’t the easiest on you while you were with S.H.I.E.L.D., but you always held your own and proved yourself, and now…Well, you’re an SIS agent, and a damned good one at that.” He grinned at my confused expression. “Yes, we’ve heard of some of your accomplishments. Word gets around in the intelligence community.”

           I chose my words carefully. “Thank you,” I told him. “I know you didn’t always agree with me being out in the field, so it’s nice to hear you support me.”

           “I’ve always supported you, doll. I just hated the thought of anything happening to you while in the field.” Bucky’s lips twitched. “You’ve proved time and time again, though, that you can handle yourself. I’m glad you’re finally doing something that makes you happy, even if it means you’re halfway across the world.”

           I finished my second drink before speaking, letting the alcohol provide the confidence I surely wouldn’t possess otherwise. “You should have known if I could keep up with you in the bedroom, I could handle a few idiots with guns,” I said with a smirk, and to my satisfaction Bucky’s eyes widened before narrowing.

           “Careful, doll,” he said in a low voice, eyes sparkling. “You’re starting to fall back into old habits.”

           “And what would that be? Proving that it takes absolutely nothing to have you itching to tear my clothes off?”

           For a moment we were silent, the air between us thick and heavy, and then Bucky was laughing, a deep sound rumbling from his chest. “Ah, you have no idea how much I missed this,” he chuckled. “No one has ever been able to banter with me like you. You always did challenge me, (Y/N).”

           I grinned as I accepted a third drink from the bartender. “Someone’s got to keep you on your toes,” I teased, and Bucky grinned into his own drink.

           “You look amazing, by the way,” he murmured after a few moments. “I meant to say that earlier.”

           I blushed. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Sergeant,” I replied, lips quirked into a smile. “You cut your hair.”

           Bucky’s cheeks were dusted pink as he ducked his head, running his flesh hand over his short, dark locks. “Yeah, I figured it was time for a change. Mostly I was tired of Sam calling me Axl Rose.” He grinned ruefully. “I know you always liked it long, though…”

           I shook my head. “No, I kinda like it short,” I insisted, truthfully. “It looks good. Makes you look younger.”

           “As young as someone almost a hundred and four can look, you mean,” he chuckled, and I giggled.

           “Don’t sell yourself short, Barnes; you don’t look a day over ninety-five.”

           Bucky cocked a dark eyebrow. “Ouch. Your words cut deep, doll.”

           I giggled again. Somehow, our bodies had gravitated closer to each other until I could see the gray mixed in with the blue of his irises, illuminated by the Christmas lights. The soft buzz of alcohol flowed through my veins, leaving me feeling warm and giddy, and I lifted a hand to lightly touch the short strands of hair framing Bucky’s face.

           “Y’know, I always liked your long hair because I could run my fingers through it,” I murmured, “but I guess it’d be just as easy to do it now.” I carded my fingertips through his short locks, and Bucky’s eyes drifted shut.

           “Feels nice,” he mumbled, and I grinned as my fingers curled in his hair and tugged with just the slightest bit of force. Bucky’s eyes snapped open, the blue-gray swallowed almost entirely whole by black. I felt my heart leap to my throat as a slow smirk curved my lips upward.

           “Good to know I can still do that, too,” I murmured, and a low growl rumbled deep in Bucky’s chest.

           “Don’t go startin’ somethin’ you aren’t prepared to finish, doll,” he warned, and I hesitated. This is exactly what I hadn’t wanted to happen – But the way he was looking at me right now reminded me so much of the way he used to look at me that it simultaneously had my stomach fluttering with butterflies and my core flooding with heat.

           “Fuck it,” I muttered, and then I downed the rest of drink number three before standing. “How close is your place from here?”

           Two blocks. Not far at all, but as Bucky led me down the street, flesh hand tight around mine, my heart hammered against my ribcage and my entire body ached in anticipation. He tugged me up three flights of stairs in a prewar apartment building, stopping outside a large wooden door and pulling a set of keys from his pocket. He was quick to unlock the door, and once we were inside, he wasted no time in kicking the door closed and pulling me into his arms.

           Bucky’s lips searched out mine like magnets, and the second they connected I melted into his embrace. It felt like a homecoming, like I was returning to my place of comfort after being away for so long. His kiss was soft and sensual, his lips warm and plush against mine, but I craved more and my teeth dragged teasingly over his bottom lip. Bucky growled, and then his tongue slipped into my mouth until we were sharing breaths. He had backed me into the wall and his hands were unbuttoning my coat as my fingers hooked into the beltloops of his jeans to hold him tight to me. He peeled off my coat and shrugged out of his leather jacket before sliding his arms under my thighs and lifting me so my legs wrapped around his torso.

           He carried me through the apartment to his bedroom, lips attacking mine, and when I was back on my feet, he was quick to rid me of my sweater. His eyes landed on the red lacy bra I wore and he licked his lips, gaze predatory.

           “Just as perfect as I remembered,” he murmured, and then his hands cradled my face as his lips crashed back to mine. My hands slipped under his t-shirt, and I revelled in the way his muscles tightened and contracted under my fingertips. My legs hit the edge of the bed and then I was on my back on the mattress, and Bucky was pulling off my boots before his fingers hooked into the waistband of my leggings. He tugged them and my underwear off my hips in one swift motion, leaving my dripping heat on full display.

           “Christ, doll, look at you,” he breathed in awe, and I wiggled my hips impatiently.

           “Touch me,” I demanded breathlessly. I expected him to torment me; Bucky Barnes had never been one to take orders in the bedroom. But he only growled as his hands spread my thighs further apart.

           “This what you need, baby girl?” he rasped, and then his tongue delved into my folds and licked up from my entrance to my clit at an agonizing pace. I gasped, back arching off the mattress as my eyes scrunched shut.

           “Fuck, I missed your mouth,” I whined. “You’re so fucking good with it.”

           I could feel Bucky grin into my heat as he devoured me, and in no time at all I was a keening, writhing mess under his ministrations. As his tongue swirled around my clit, he dipped two thick fingers into my heat, pumping them in and out slowly. The sensations were overwhelming – Neither myself nor the handful of men I’d been with since the breakup had managed to make me feel half as good as he was right now, with just his mouth and his hands. I whimpered, feeling myself teetering on the edge of release.

           “Come for me, baby girl,” Bucky murmured into my core, fingertips searching out my most sensitive part inside me. My hips bucked and my hands fisted in the bedsheets as I moaned shamelessly. “That’s it, let go. Wanna taste how sweet you are when you come on my tongue.”

           His words pushed me over the edge, and my orgasm exploded white-hot as I cried out his name, fingers tangling in his hair. Bucky growled into my core, fingers slowing as his tongue lapped hungrily at my release. Once he was satisfied he had sufficiently cleaned me up, he crawled up my body and kissed me languorously, making sure I tasted myself on his tongue.

           “Sweet as honey,” he murmured against my throat as he pulled away. “Still my favourite taste.”

           My legs were still shaky post-orgasm, but I was able to hook them around Bucky’s and flip us over so he was on his back and I was straddling him. His eyes rounded as my fingers deftly unbuckled his belt and popped the button of his jeans, tugging at the waistband. He lifted his hips and I yanked them down his legs, revealing the prominent bulge in the front of his black boxer briefs.

           “Mmm, is that for me, Sergeant?” I murmured, palming him through the thin fabric of his underwear, and Bucky’s head fell back on the mattress as a hiss passed through his clenched teeth.

           “’Course it is,” he managed to rasp. “Always been yours, baby girl, you know that.”

           My hand stilled, and I met his eyes. He was wrecked, but his eyes were lucid and boring into mine with a burning intensity as well as a vulnerable honesty that he rarely displayed. Stop, the rational part of my brain was screaming, before you get too far into this and can’t get out. But something deeper and more instinctual nudged me on, insisting that the look Bucky was giving me now was everything I had been missing in my life for the past year. He was mine. He was always meant to be mine. And I was going to remind him of that.

           I peeled off his boxer briefs, and his cock sprang free, hot and hard and leaking precum. I wrapped my hand around his length, swiping my thumb over the tip, and Bucky grunted as his hips rutted up into my touch. I couldn’t help the grin that spread my lips. It was satisfying to know I still held this power over him.

           I leaned in to swipe my tongue along the underside of his shaft before my lips enveloped his tip, tongue swirling around, and he groaned, flesh hand coming up to gather my hair away from my face.

           “Just like that, doll, fuck,” he panted, until I’d taken nearly all of him in my mouth – Which was a feat, considering his more-than-above-average size. I could feel tears sting my eyes as he hit the back of my throat, and I eased off a bit and hollowed out my cheeks as I bobbed my head along his length. His entire body was taut, like a live wire, but before I could get him to snap, his hands were gently pulling my face away from him. I looked up at him with confusion furrowing my brow.

           “Why…” I started, but he grinned and pulled me up to kiss me thoroughly.

           “As much as I love your mouth, doll, I wanna be inside you when I come,” he murmured, and my walls clenched in anticipation. Bucky’s hands deftly removed my bra and he yanked his t-shirt over his head, leaving us completely bare as our hands explored each other’s bodies, recommitting every curve and plane to memory.

           Rolling us over, Bucky hovered above me as he kissed me dizzy. Lining himself up with my entrance, he paused, searching my eyes with his.

           “Tell me to stop,” he breathed. I shook my head, rolling my hips up until he slipped into me.

           Bucky groaned, and I let out a high-pitched whine as my hands clutched at his waist desperately. It had always amazed me how well he filled me, his thickness stretching my walls until the line between pain and pleasure was blurred, the tip of his cock pressed snugly against my cervix when he was fully sheathed inside me. As if we were made for each other. And in this moment, fire burning through my veins and my breath catching in my throat as he shifted just the tiniest bit, I wasn’t convinced we weren’t made for each other.

           We exploded like fire and gasoline, falling quickly into a rhythm like no time had passed since the last time we’d gotten lost in each other. Bucky’s hips rutted into me hard and deliberate as his mouth claimed mine in a devastatingly fierce kiss, and it was all I could do not to entirely lose myself in the sensation of being completely consumed by him, nails raking down the heated skin of his back as my hips eagerly rolled up to meet his every thrust.

           Bucky’s grip on my hips was bruising, but I would gladly carry his marks with me for days to come, as a reminder of how foolish we had ever been to think we could live without each other.

           “(Y/N)…” he rasped, breath hot on my face, and I opened my eyes to find his face just millimetres from mine. Though his lust-blown pupils had nearly swallowed whole his irises, they still managed to burn as he held my gaze, and I could feel my heart in my throat under his heat. I tilted my head to catch his lips, and he kissed me like he was speaking to me without words.

           The coil in my belly tightened, and I could tell Bucky was close, too, by the way his thrusts had gotten sloppier. His flesh hand had slipped into mine, fingers interlacing above our heads as my free hand carded through the hair at the nape of his neck. I held his face to mine, short breaths escaping our lips and mingling in the short distance between us. Bucky’s hips stuttered, and I clenched around him, causing him to twitch inside me as he let out a guttural groan. I whimpered, my own release crashing over me as I felt him paint my insides with his seed.

           Neither of us moved for a moment, trying to catch our breaths, and then Bucky nudged my nose with his affectionately and I titled my head up to press my lips to his. He kissed me, tender and sweet, and when he cradled me to him and rolled us over into the pillows, I didn’t put up a fight, letting my post-orgasm haze drift over me as I started to doze off with my head pillowed on Bucky’s chest and his arms secured tight around me.

           By the time I woke up, the sun had just started to peek over the horizon. I was still curled against Bucky’s side, his hand warm against my hip. The brevity of the situation hit me all at once, weighing heavy on my chest as a lump began to form in my throat. I’d just had sex. With my ex. In an apartment in New York City. All the progress I’d made moving past my feelings and getting over how broken-hearted the breakup had left me, shattered, in one moment of weakness. All my feelings for Bucky had rushed back to the surface, reminding me just how in love and obsessed we’d been with each other, and now all I could think of was how I was right back where I’d started, knowing I had to let him go, but working myself into a mess at the mere thought of it.

           Sensing I was awake, Bucky’s fingertips traced circles over my bare flesh, raising goosebumps as he pressed a soft kiss to the crown of my head. I knew I should get up; I had a flight to catch in a few hours. All I wanted, though, was to bury myself further in Bucky’s embrace – Just one more night with him, one more night pretending that falling back into bed with him wasn’t the worst thing I could have done.

           Biting back tears, I pulled myself away from Bucky, sitting up and holding the covers to my chest. His body followed mine, his lips brushing over my shoulder blade.

           “You’re not leaving so soon, are you?” he murmured. “We still have time…”

           I shook my head. “We can’t,” I said quietly.

           “Of course we can, doll. You have plenty of time to get to the airport.”

           “No.” I turned my head to look at him, ignoring the way my heart fluttered at how cute he looked all mussed-up and sleepy. “What are we doing, James?”

           This caught him off-guard; I rarely called him by his given name. “What do you mean?” he asked slowly.

           “What are we doing?” I repeated. “Why did you reach out to me?”

           Bucky’s brow furrowed. “Because I missed you. I wanted to see you, (Y/N) –”

           I cut him off. “That’s just it. I missed you too, but where does this get us? Like you said earlier, we didn’t work out for a reason. We can’t do this and expect to not end up in the mess we were before.” I shook my head, eyes glassy. “I was back in my feelings the moment I saw you, Bucky, and now…Now I’m losing my mind thinking of walking out that door, but we both know I have to.”

           I couldn’t meet his eyes; I knew the heartbroken expression that would be etched into his beautiful face, and I knew that one look and my resolve would crumble.

           “(Y/N)…” he whispered, but I could tell by the defeated tone in his voice he knew I was right.

           “If I stay any longer, I’ll feel like I’m losing you twice. I can’t put myself nor you through that again – It was hard enough the first time,” I said quietly as I slipped out of bed and started redressing. Bucky sat, silent and motionless, until I’d laced up my boots. He jumped out of bed, tugging on a pair of sweatpants and following me out to the front door. He bit his lip as I shrugged on my coat. His hands stilled mine as I went to button it up, and I looked up at him, heart hammering against my ribcage and knees weak.

           “I don’t ever want there to be hard feelings between us,” he murmured as he buttoned my coat for me, and I shook my head.

           “Me either.” My voice was small.

           “I love you, (Y/N). I always have, and I always will. But you’re right; we have to let each other go.”

           Blinking back tears, I pulled his face down to mine in a goodbye kiss. He held me tight to him, and when we pulled apart his eyes were as glassy as mine. I reached up to trace my fingertips lightly along his jaw.

           “Goodbye,” I whispered, and then I was out the door.

           Later, as I sat in my seat and the plane took off, I looked out the window with tears in my eyes, saying goodbye forever to that New York apartment where I’d left my heart. Goodbye forever, until next time. Because I knew every time Bucky called me, I’d pick up and fall right back into my feelings for him, consequences be damned.

[thedeaconj]

A Cup of Sugar (Parts 1 and 2)

(So this is a longer piece I wrote up a while back, I’m putting the first two parts up as the very first part is extremely tame on its own. The second part is a little tame too, but well, you’ll see when the rest goes up why a slow burn can be all the more satisfying)

Part 1

         Life in the city was tough, there was no denying it. It was already proving difficult for Sophie, who at the age of 19 had just cast off the shackles of parental oppression, then up and moved to the city against their wishes. Not that there really were shackles in her case, her parents never really tried to bring any order or discipline into her life. Instead, she brought her own in, with a fierce independent streak. Sure, she may not have been academically gifted, but she was headstrong, willing to work for her money. She may have looked quite petite and short but was surprisingly strong. This led her to her job at the warehouse, it was back breaking work, but she earned enough to keep herself afloat, and pay the admittedly extortionate rent on her small, dingy apartment.

The city was a fair bit warmer than where she was from, but Sophie still dressed conservatively, in many layers. Thick coats and jumpers, jeans, there wasn’t much of a trace of femininity to her, aside from her long, black hair. Her light skin stood out too, the heat of the city not quite having got to her complexion yet. It was getting to her physically though, that and her work. She’d came up the stairwell to her apartment, dead tired from her shift, only to find another obstacle to her already disaster of a day. She’d ordered a package online, given specific instructions of delivery time, only for them to have come early, missed her and left it with her neighbour, Mark.

         Within the two weeks she’d lived there, she’d only bumped into the man twice, and didn’t much care for him on either time. A tall, lanky man who dressed in tweed and always seemed to look a little out of place. A shaggy mess of brown hair on his head, a rather unkempt beard and thick glasses obscured most of his face. He was easily twice her age, not that she knew much about him or what he did. The first time they’d met was when she was moving in, he offered her a bit of help, and introduced himself, but she wouldn’t give him the time of day. Why should she? She’d moved here on her own, she’d got the job on her own, and would have this place to herself. Besides, the way he looked at her, there was something a little off about it. The other time they’d crossed paths was earlier that day as she was heading off to her shift, Mark mentioned he’d be having a gathering of people soon, and that she was welcome to come. She pretended not to hear him, then hurried off to work. Now it was looking like she didn’t have much of a choice though. She wanted that delivery, she’d just have to suck it up, knock on his door and ask for it. It killed her a little to even have to do this, but she’d spent money on the delivery, and she couldn’t afford to put principles ahead of that right now.

         Sophie knocked on his apartment door with a light knock, she didn’t want anyone else in the corridor to notice her. They’d no doubt find it odd she was going in there, maybe spread some nasty rumours. How could she be with a guy like Mark anyways? He was far too old for her. In an instant, she heard the door become unlocked, Mark pulled it open, formally dressed as ever.

‘Ah hello Sophie, how are you?’ he said.

She looked up at him with a tired look on her face, not willing to entertain the man.

‘Hey, do you have my parcel?’ she asked.

Mark chuckled, which sent a shiver down Sophie’s spine, he sounded all too old to be chuckling like that. He swung the door open, and invited her inside.

‘I’d rather if you just got it for me,’

‘Please Sophie, you look exhausted, at least take a seat for a moment while I get it,’ he said.

She sighed, then marched into Mark’s apartment. The first thing that came to mind was she’d be having a firm discussion with the landlord after this. His place was easily three times the size of hers, an open plan with a large sitting area, an adjoining bathroom and bedroom, a decent sized kitchen too. Artworks decorated the walls, and there was all sorts of curios and antiquities dotted around. Overwhelmed, Sophie took it all in, her gaze transfixed on some of the jewellery on display.

‘Sorry the place is a bit of a mess, I’ve still got to tidy up for my gathering next weekend, Should I put you down as a maybe?’ Mark asked, he’d headed into the adjoining bedroom, where he heard him rifling through some things.

Sophie snapped out of it, muttered something under her breath, then looked over to Mark’s sofa. It was, rather unusually, a hot pink leather sofa. It looked entirely out of place with the rest of the room, and despite herself Sophie couldn’t help but smirk at it. She sat down on it, finding it surprisingly comfortable, until it ambushed her with the springing up footrest. She let out a sudden yelp.

‘Yes, watch out for that! It’s not my sofa, well it is but it’s a joke gift from a friend,’ she heard.

‘Who gives someone a hot pink sofa as a gift?’ she called out.

There was that chuckle again. Sophie shivered again but did allow herself to relax into the sofa more. Despite the unusual appearance and how it totally didn’t match with the room, it was so wonderfully comfortable. She’d had a long day, sure she was in the apartment of her strange neighbour, but she might as well relax for a moment, as he got her the parcel. Mark re-entered the room, he looked over Sophie in her thick coat, black jeans and work boots, looking almost as out of place as the sofa itself. He hadn’t returned with the parcel, but a kettle.

‘I’m so sorry about this! I placed it down in there, but things have a habit of getting lost in here, in the meantime would you like some tea?’ he asked.

Sophie turned red, she’d thought he was impractical from looking at him, but how did you lose someone else’s parcel within your own apartment? She shook her head, but let out a long, telling yawn.

‘It’ll help you relax Sophie, please it’s the least I could do,’ Mark said.

She looked over to him as he held up the kettle, then finally shrugged. If she was going to wait here, she might as well have a free drink out of it. Given how well decorated the place was, Mark definitely could afford to give out more cups of tea than her. Sophie said she’d be fine with a cup of tea, but she didn’t want any milk or sugar. Mark nodded, then went off to make her the beverage. Within a few moments he returned and handed her the cup. The sofa meant Sophie was practically lying down, and after a hard day of work she could barely bend herself back up towards him. Still, she managed to grab the tea, and get herself slightly more upright. Sophie took her first sip, surprised by how it already seemed to be cool enough to drink. It was fantastic! Whatever tea this was she’d have to ask Mark afterwards where he’d got it.

         Mark looked Sophie over again, as she took her first sip. Her pupils began to dilate, and he could see the faintest outlines of a smile forming on her face, something he’d never seen before. He smiled himself, then headed back off to the bedroom to find the package. As he did that, Sophie continued to drink her tea, while Mark rambled on about some topic. She wasn’t exactly sure what he was talking about, all that mattered to her then was the drink, and letting herself relax. She’d had such a long day, why not take a moment to relax? Sophie let herself melt back into the sofa, enjoying the feel of the cool leather against what little skin she revealed. She’d drank her tea quickly but was even open for another cup. As Sophie leaned back on the sofa, she noticed a breeze now coming from the ceiling. A ceiling fan, that spun around and around. It felt so good as a cool breeze caressed her warm body, felt nice to just focus on the spinning and let her troubles sink away. Sophie’s eyes fluttered, and then she simply must have drifted off.

‘Sophie?’ she heard.

         She sat upright on the sofa, blinking, and realising where she was. How embarrassing, she must have nodded off! She looked up to see Mark was holding her parcel, and she turned bright red. She’d fallen asleep in her neighbour’s apartment; this wasn’t exactly what she’d imagined city life to be like. Looking up at Mark then, seeing the warm smile on his face, she began to feel quite bad. She’d not exactly been the nicest to this man, who really just wanted to help, and now she’d fell asleep in his apartment.

‘You dozed off there for a second, are you alright?’ Mark asked.

Sophie nodded, ‘Just tired, sorry about that’ she said, fairly quietly and still a little red.

‘That’s alright, you must have had a long day. Well here’s your package anyways,’ Mark handed it over to her. His hand lightly brushed hers as he did, but Sophie didn’t seem to mind at all.

As Sophie began to get up, Mark began to speak again. Now, Sophie felt more like listening to him, it was the least she could do.

‘I know you must be new to the city but please if there’s anything you need just knock on my door. If it’s help with anything, or just a cup of sugar like in the olden days,’ Mark chuckled.

Sophie couldn’t help but laugh too, she nodded but was still quick to get out of the apartment. She felt more embarrassed than weirded out by Mark now, he was clearly just a nice, if a little odd, older man. Sophie hurried off, forgetting to say goodbye, then went back into her own apartment. She opened up her delivery once inside, another thick, black coat, but didn’t feel all that attached to it. Maybe the heat of the city was starting to get to her, but it just didn’t seem much like her anymore, she’d built up this fiercely independent personality, something she was proud of, but was all this extra stuff necessary? Sophie didn’t ponder on it too much, despite her power nap she was exhausted. Soon enough, she slipped into her pyjamas, and drifted off to sleep. It would be another long shift for her tomorrow, life in the city was tough, just like her, just like how she liked it.

  Part 2

           Sophie once again returned from her shift at the warehouse, she’d forgone the heavy coat today, instead sticking with a dark green jumper and black jeans, and of course her heavy work boots. Still, despite this meaning she was cooler throughout the day, she still came home feeling exhausted, maybe even more so than the day before. There were no deliveries to be missed today, as Sophie looked over to Mark’s door, still feeling embarrassed about the day before. Part of her did want to go and apologise more, maybe even make an effort to attend that gathering he was talking about, but then that still felt a little strange. He was older than her, they were a generation apart almost, it just didn’t sit right with her. Sophie entered her apartment, a small, cramped space compared to Marks. She sighed as she saw one of her kitchen cupboard doors was hanging off at an angle. No doubt they were cheaply made, but no doubt the landlord would charge her a fortune if he discovered it. She searched through her apartment, found her DIY tools, then slapped her head and cursed. How could she have bought a DIY kit and forgot a screwdriver? It was such a simple mistake, one she chalked up to probably being tired from work when she bought it.

         Sophie considered her options, she could head down to the shops and buy one, but she wasn’t exactly flush with cash. She could leave it, but it would just irritate her so much, seeing it hanging there. Then, a third option came into her mind. Didn’t Mark say if she needed anything, to just ask? I mean it was just a screwdriver, she’d feel a little bad asking for it, but the alternative was having a cupboard door hanging off. All she’d have to do is walk next door, let him know, and he’d probably give her one. Was it really so bad to ask for just a little help? Sophie sighed; she left her apartment to head to her neighbours for the second time in two days.

           Once again Mark seemed to be right by the door, wearing a similar outfit to yesterday, except this time he held a wineglass in his hand. Sophie blushed a little, hoping she hadn’t disturbed him, but then wondered why? It wasn’t like he hadn’t said to her it was okay for her to ask for help.

‘Ah hello Sophie, here for that cup of sugar?’ he chuckled.

She laughed too, then shook her head.

‘No, I’m actually after a screwdriver, if you have one,’ she said.

‘Of course, I have one somewhere I’m sure of it, won’t you come in?’

Sophie nodded and walked once again into Mark’s apartment, things were looking a little tidier in here today, although the hot pink sofa still stood out like a sore thumb. Sophie liked something about it though, it was as if it was a statement of rebellion, something young and vibrant in the old and rather fusty apartment. The antiquities and oddities were mostly moved away somewhere, but the jewellery stayed in place. It was a hot day, so the ceiling fan once again came on full blast. Even though it was a big apartment, Sophie swore she could smell the wine Mark had open from here, a viscous, strong smell that practically got her tipsy just from smelling it. She’d never drank much, to be drunk was to let her guard down, and she definitely wouldn’t go getting drunk in her neighbours’ apartment. As Mark went off to his bedroom to search for a screwdriver, Sophie sat down upon the sofa again by instinct. The footrest still got her by surprise.

‘Say, what is it you do Mark?’ she asked, this time a bit more willing to make some small talk. She’d seen how long it had taken him to get her parcel, so she was in for a long haul anyways.

‘I’m retired, a bit young for it I know, but I made a good deal of money in my old field. I was a professor,’ he said.

Sophie’s own father worked at a petrol station, a far cry from Professor Mark, who had trouble locating objects in his own apartment. Why she’d thought about her father was unclear to Sophie, instead she continued to ask a bit about Mark.

‘What were you a professor of?’ she asked.

Sophie once again was getting comfortable on the sofa, she made a snap decision to roll up the sleeves of her jumper, just to feel the coolness against her skin. The fan was helping too, it seemed more powerful than yesterday, as it produced a constant swooshing sound, an almost rhythmic one. Just as Sophie was getting truly comfortable, Mark re-entered the room with the screwdriver.

‘Oh,’ she said.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, holding out the screwdriver.

‘Nothing, you just took a while yesterday, I didn’t expect you to be so quick,’ she said.

         Why was she so disappointed? He’d got her the screwdriver like she’d asked, she could be out of here, she could fix her cupboards and maybe get some of her own free time in tonight, instead of collapsing into sleep again.

‘Well you’re welcome to stay and chat a little, to answer your question, I was a professor of behavioural operating, it’s a little technical and boring to explain,’ he said.

‘No, I wouldn’t want to bother you and take up your time,’ Sophie replied.

         She began to pull herself up from the sofa, when Mark popped his wine glass just under her nose. She breathed in that strong, musky smell; her eyes fluttered slightly as it was just so powerful. There was something so familiar about it, Sophie started to smile as it reminded her of something pleasant, but she wasn’t quite sure what.

‘Please Sophie, stay, you’re not bothering me at all. In fact, I quite enjoy your company, and I need someone to help me finish this wine. I’ve not even touched this glass,’ he chuckled.

Sophie giggled as he chuckled.

‘I’m not much of a drinker,’ she said, still breathing in the aroma of the wine as Mark kept it just below her mouth.

He was stood behind her, behind the sofa now, as she looked up into his face, into his eyes. Without his thick glasses on she could see they were a nice shade of brown, just like hers. Mark slowly brought the glass further up, and cupped it over Sophie’s face. She could only smell the aroma of the wine now, as her mouth opened.

‘Please Sophie, give it a try, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it,’ he said.

She couldn’t help but let it down her throat, it burned only a little. It tasted even better than her tea yesterday, such a delightfully fruity taste, she wanted more of it, and didn’t even mind as Mark used his hand to guide one of her arms into holding the glass. She continued to breath it in, as she relaxed deeply into the sofa. Mark took a seat just across from her, on a black leather chair. Sophie looked across at him as she continued to drink.

‘You’re right, it’s really good,’ she said.

Mark looked at the girl as her eyes once again dilated, the flicker of a smile came to her face, and everything but the hand she held the glass in became so loose, so limp. He smiled at her, which made Sophie go slightly red. There was something strange about this, but she couldn’t quite place it, and the worry began to go away as the pair started to speak.

 ‘Tell me Sophie, do you have much in the way of family? You seem quite young to be living alone in the city,’ Mark asked.

She shook her head, and simply said that she was an only child, that she had parents but didn’t want to rely on them, not that she felt she could anyways. Mark nodded, a warm smile still on his face.

‘That’s understandable, you do seem the independent type. Myself I was too focused on my work to really have a family, but we all have our priorities, don’t we Sophie?’

She nodded, but right then her priority was simply relaxing and enjoying the wine. It was so good, the way it ran down her throat, tickling at her, she felt so fuzzy every time Mark spoke, like his words were wrapping around her, like a cosy blanket. ‘Yes, sorry, I’m a little tired so I’m not up to talk much,’ she said.

‘That’s alright Sophie, you can relax and I’m more than happy to talk at you,’ Mark said.

Then she noticed a frown on his face, as he now looked down at her boots. Not wanting to sour the mood, she asked what was wrong.

‘Sorry, I’m being a bit fussy, but is there any chance you could take your work boots off? It’s just the sofa and all…’ Mark said.

Sophie felt embarrassed again, not only was she relying on him once again, but now she was scuffing his sofa with her big clunky boots! Sophie leaned up a little quickly, only to feel dizzy.

‘Sure, woah give me a second,’ she said.

Mark chuckled, so Sophie giggled.

‘That wine’s strong stuff, I can just take them off for you Sophie,’ he said.

Before she could object, Mark was on his feet, untying her bootlaces, while she relaxed back into the sofa. She finished off her wine glass, placed it down on a side table, and lay back for a moment. There was the ceiling fan again, spinning around and around. Usually seeing something like this after a drink could make her feel nauseous, but instead it just made her feel happy. She’d been so intent on taking her own boots off, but why not let Mark do it for her? It meant she could relax more, and that was important, she’d had a long day after all. As Sophie felt the load on each of her feet lighten, Mark made an interesting remark.

‘Not what I expected to see underneath your boots Sophie,’ he said.

         Sophie leaned up, just enough to see she was wearing pastel pink socks! She must have forgotten she put them on this morning, as she was running out of her traditional black pairs.

‘Oh yeah umm I haven’t washed any of my normal pairs,’ she said, turning redder than ever.

‘It’s perfectly fine Sophie, they look nice, it’s a cute colour,’ Mark said.

Nobody had ever called Sophie cute, at least not since she was a child. It wasn’t her look, her style, being cute was opposed to being herself. However, Mark’s comment didn’t bother her too much, why was that?

‘It is?’ she asked.

‘Yes, it is Sophie, I know it’s not how you usually dress, but why not try a different look? You’re in the city now after all, you can be whoever you want to be,’

Why was she taking fashion advice from her older, male neighbour? It all seemed a little weird to her, but at the same time as if he did have a point. There was one obvious reason she couldn’t try a new look, the money side of things, but maybe some slow changes?

‘I guess I could try out a new style,’ she said, still staring up at the ceiling fan.

Mark chuckled, which caused her to giggle. She now wiggled her toes as they were free from the boots, but then felt a pleasant feeling on her soles, as if she was getting a footrub. She didn’t get up to look though, she was too busy focusing on the fan, letting Mark talk at her again. It was such a pleasant state to be in, lying back on his sofa, letting him talk and tell her all these interesting things. He was a smart man she could tell, and a gifted speaker. She could imagine being a student in his classes when he used to teach, knowing he’d have her full attention. As Sophie daydreamed, she became blissfully unaware of her mouth drifting open, drool pooling as her body and mind melted. Her eyes rolled up in her head, darkness overtook her.

 ‘Sophie?’

Sophie blinked her eyes open, she leaned up to see Mark sitting across from her, in the chair, with a look of mild concern on his face.

‘Oh god! I did it again didn’t I,’ Sophie groaned.

How had she fallen asleep in his apartment again! She’d only came over to get a screwdriver, it must have been the wine, she thought. She always was a bit of a lightweight, what with her size, and her long shift didn’t help. How embarrassing for her again though, she’d also seemed to have drooled in her sleep, as there was a small puddle of it on her jumper.

‘Only for a few moments Sophie, I must have been boring you,’ Mark said, then chuckled.

She giggled, then shook her head.

‘No, no not at all, you’re interesting to listen to, I’m just tired again, another long shift,’ she said.

It surprised her, but it was true. Mark proved interesting to listen to, she could see how he’d been able to retire early, as he was such a smart man. Yet, wasn’t it a little odd that she didn’t think that much of him only two days before? Perhaps she’d misjudged him, she knew him better now, and could see he was worth her time. Maybe she would go to that gathering he mentioned.

‘That’s perfectly alright Sophie, until we meet again. Like I said, anything you need, please come and ask, even if it’s for a cup of sugar,’ Mark said. He winked at the end, which inspired a strange, dreamy feeling in Sophie.

She blinked twice and nodded, heading out back to her own apartment, screwdriver in hand. Fixing the cupboard door was easy, but once again she felt exhausted, the day hitting her hard. As she readied herself for bed, Sophie looked over her usual pyjamas. These long sleeved and legged dark blue pyjamas, which were quite warm and stuffy. She remembered something from earlier, something about trying out a new way of dressing. It was so hot in her apartment bedroom, so hot in the city overall, and she couldn’t afford any new clothes just yet. Maybe her new style then could be more minimalist? She didn’t need to sleep in these pyjamas, instead she could simply wear her underwear and the vest top she had on under the sweater. Sophie smiled, she thought about how Mark mentioned something about a different style. He was a smart man. Where’d that come from? Why was she thinking of her older neighbour as she stripped down and lay in bed? She wouldn’t get an answer, as the moment she closed her eyes, Sophie was out like a light.

[hermannsthumb]

So I just saw your Halloween prompts! I don't think you've done this one yet so could you do "we hate each other but we were invited to a mutual friend’s party and were warned to be civil so you complimented my costume and fuck you, i haven’t changed yet"?

from halloween prompts here

ok I thought I'd get a little funky with this one and set it within the first year of them getting shoved in the shatterdome together when they’re just total dicks to each other. for reference this is the ABSOLUTE EXACT OUTFIT NEWT IS WEARING!!!!!

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

Newt arrives fashionably late to the party.

Well, it’s more just like late late. His date with a hot ranger hopeful went a little over schedule, so over schedule Newt had to straight-up bail on the guy before they got the check, which he felt bad about, and then he left his phone in the bar and had to double back for it (awkwardly pretending he didn’t notice his date chatting up another guy at the counter), and then he missed his bus and had to hail the most expensive Uber ride of all time, and basically didn’t make it back to base until well after he’d promised to appear with cupcakes. Newt spent a shit-ton of time on those cupcakes and basically sold his soul to get the ingredients for them (rationing, man, it’s killing his amateur baker dreams), so he books it to the break room with the tray without even bothering to change into his costume first. These are more important.

Everything is in full swing when he gets there. The lightbulbs in the overhead lights have been swapped out for purple ones, and the music is pulsing so loud Newt feels it vibrating in his stomach; tacky Halloween garland, most of it homemade, is hung from practically everything; every available surface not cluttered with bottles of cheap booze or chip bowls is cluttered with plastic Jack-O-Lanterns and dripping black candles. In short, it looks pretty fucking fun. Newt squeezes his way through the costumed crowd, rearranges a few candles to carefully slip his cupcakes onto one of the repurposed card tables in a place of honor, and resolves to make himself a drink with the first bottle of something he finds that’s not fruit-flavored—he’s earned it after his shitty night.

There’s a tap at his shoulder before he can make good on his promise to himself of a drink. “Yeah, whatever, I know I’m late, dude,” he shouts over the music. “It’s been a night. I—” He turns. “Oh.”

It’s not Hermann like he (admittedly, foolishly) thought, but rather Tendo, who’s already flushed a bright red, undoubtedly from whatever horrific purple concoction is in his paper cup. Newt wonders if it’s what’s currently foaming in the ominous black cauldron labeled Witch’s Brew next to the cheese dip. He’ll pass, thanks. “It’s about time,” Tendo says. “Gottlieb has been on my ass all fuckin’ night long about where you are. Go find him already.”

“Hermann’s been on your ass about me?” Newt says, eyebrows jumping. Out of everyone in this entire goddamn room—including the janitorial staff, who have had a bone to pick with Newt ever since his ill-advised kaiju eyeball experiment, and resulting explosion, that left the laboratory coated in slime for a week—Hermann is perhaps the very last person he would ever expect to give a shit about his whereabouts. It’s just that Hermann prides himself on not caring about Newt’s personal life, something he takes great care to remind Newt of at every possible opportunity, and Newt would’ve thought he’d have jumped at the chance to enjoy every Newt-free second to the fullest. He should know well enough by now that Hermann manages to find something to complain about in anything. “Why?” he says, and this time, he rolls his eyes. “Did he miss having someone to bitch at? Or bitch about?”

“Easy,” Tendo says warningly. He pokes his finger at Newt’s chest. “Try to keep it civil, boys, okay? I am not having you crush our chances of Pentecost approving a New Year’s bash with a repeat of—”

“Okay, okay,” Newt sighs, waving him off. He doesn’t exactly want a reminder of his and Hermann’s, uh, behavior at the somewhat disastrous Valentine’s Day party, either, or how tense the lab was for weeks following it. Well. Tenser than usual. “I got it. No fights. Where is he?”

“Hiding in that corner,” Tendo says. He gestures with his cup, splashing purple Witch’s Brew all down the front of his dumb greaser costume, and Newt squints where he’s directed; he thinks he can make out pale, sharp cheeks and the flash of a tweed coat. Trust Hermann to wear tweed to a Halloween party. He’s so lame. “Nice pants, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Newt says, distracted, and pushes his way through the crowd.

Newt’s surprised that Hermann even bothered showing up in the first place, and he can’t imagine he’s been very exciting company to anyone all night. The guy hates parties. Sure enough, he’s staring sullenly at his shoes when Newt finally reaches him, back pressed against the wall, soda can gripped so tightly in his free hand Newt can see the aluminum starting to crinkle under his fingertips. Newt doesn’t say hi, just sidles up next to him. Hermann doesn’t seem to notice. “How’s the party?” Newt says.

Hermann’s whole body goes rigid; when he turns to Newt, his lips have curled down into an ugly grimace, like he just ate a whole lemon or maybe caught sight of his tragic hairdo in a mirror. It’s good to see you, too, Hermann, Newt thinks. “Distasteful,” Hermann says. “They haven’t a single decent thing to drink anywhere.”

“Hm,” Newt says. He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I heard you were asking about me.”

“Hardly,” Hermann says with a scoff.

“I heard Tendo didn’t get a second alone you were asking about me so much,” Newt says. “What, did you miss me? I bet you just came here tonight to hang out with me, didn’t you? I bet you were all disappointed when I wasn’t here, and…”

“Hardly,” Hermann snaps. Newt grins. “My presence at this party is in no way affected by your own. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You were asking where I was, though,” Newt says.

Hermann’s lips contort again, this time into a thin line, and he turns a glare on Newt—though, Newt notices with a flare of glee, his cheeks have gone a bit pink. “I was aware you had…a date, tonight,” he says, slowly, “and—when you were not back by a reasonable time—well, forgive me for worrying that something may have happened to you.” His soda can begins to bend inward. “I wasn’t fancying the idea of having to tack on all of your work atop mine, is all.”

“Sure,” Newt says. He’d be touched, he thinks, if Hermann wasn’t the worst. “Anyway, look, I promise I’ll stay out of your hair—Tendo told us to behave ourselves. Just wanted to brighten your night real fast.”

Hermann snorts. “He warned me similarly. Well—in the interest of civility, I suppose I should compliment your costume.”

The grin vanishes off Newt’s face. Any feelings of good will towards Hermann—any sentimental feelings of companionability—that have been steadily building vanish with it. “Costume?” he says.

“Yes,” Hermann says. He waves his cane up and down, vaguely, over Newt. “Costume. ‘S better than mine, all I’ve got are some bloody vampire fangs in my pocket I haven’t even bothered to put on. You’re a clown, are you not?”

Briefly, Newt considers upending Hermann’s soda can over his head, or maybe indulging in a repeat of the Valentine’s Day party and using that whole fucking black cauldron. Instead, he just blushes and scowls. “Do you have to be such a jackass all the time?” he snaps. “No, I’m not dressed up like a fucking clown. These are my date clothes. A clown—that’s something coming from you, Doctor Sweatervest, you wouldn’t know fashion if it crawled out of the fucking Breach and stomped on you.”

Hermann looks mortified. Good—he should. “Newton—I didn’t—"

“Have a fun time,” Newt says, and storms off.

The thing about Hermann is that he’s a real square who knows exactly how to get under Newt’s skin, even when he doesn’t mean it; the thing about Newt is that he’s majorly cool and knows exactly how to get under Hermann’s skin, and he almost always means it. Newt thinks, if they were other people, he might consider them Frenemies, but he really can’t imagine a world in which Hermann would ever willingly be his friend, so half of that is a bust. Besides, Hermann’s not really his enemy either. He’s more of a…rival. Though it does complicate things severely when Newt takes into account how bad Hermann wants to get into his pants.

“That’s really great and all,” the guy Newt’s been chatting up by the snack table says, “but I don’t have any idea who you’re talking about.”

“It’s just like,” Newt says, “I know he wants me. I’ve caught him staring at my ass, like, twenty times in the lab. And when the eyeball incident happened—he was way too happy to strip me down for the emergency shower.” The event was very conflicting for Newt, too, to be quite honest, and he still looks back on it (Hermann, shouting at him and calling him an idiot, while ripping off his sizzling clothing) with a mixture of annoyance and arousal. He shrugs. “I just don’t know why he doesn’t admit it to himself. We’d all be happier. Can you believe he said I was dressed like a clown?”

“Uh-huh,” the guy says. “Look, Dr. Geiszler, I’m just trying to get some pretzels.”

“What?” Newt says. “Oh. Sorry. Here—” He uses a plastic spoon to scoop some out onto his new friend’s orange paper plate, and finds himself alone again very swiftly.

It’s not like the clown comment ruined his night or anything. It’s just that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it, once, or stop talking about it either, and every time he does, he feels angry and embarrassed all over again, and maybe sort of wants revenge against Hermann for it. He think he might know how to get it, too.

Hermann is lurking in the same place Newt left him, though instead of his soda can, he’s tensely nursing a paper cup. His name is Sharpied across it in his familiar scribble. Newt announces himself by wrapping his fingers around Hermann’s, raising the cup to his lips, and taking a sip. (It’s more soda.) “Hey, Hermann,” he says.

Hermann stares at him blankly; a familiar blush is making its way back to his cheeks. “Ah,” he says. “Hello.”

“What’s up?” Newt says. He scoots in next to Hermann until their shoulders touch; then, for good measure, he brushes his hand over the one Hermann has clenched firmly on his cane. He feels Hermann shiver. “You having fun?”

“Not—” Hermann clears his throat. He’s looking down at their hands. “Er. Not particularly.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Newt says, and (this time, settling his hand on top of Hermann’s) adds in a low voice, “I bet I could make it more exciting.”

The revenge plan was pretty simple. Preying upon Hermann’s obvious feelings for him, Newt would seduce him, get halfway through makeouts in some secluded hallway, and then pull away and be like just kidding! You suck!, announce he was going to find the sexy ranger he had a date with tonight who was totally into him, and go enjoy the rest of the party while Hermann—well, moped, Newt guessed. At least understood how Newt felt earlier. Except once they actually start making out, Newt realizes that’s kind of fucked up of him, and if Hermann tried the reverse (not that Newt has feelings for Hermann, obviously, but like—hypothetically), Newt would probably lock himself up in his quarters and cry for weeks. Plus, Hermann is apparently kind of awesome at making out?

“I take it your date did not go well,” Hermann breathes in his ear. “I can’t say I mind very much. Will you pull my hair again?”

Newt’s going to examine all this later. “Fuck yeah,” he says.

[yesloverboy]

Can you write for Madison and her “reader” girlfriend please

 At the coffee shop where you work, it isn’t unusual to get a little ruckus here and there; the espresso machine always whirred noisily, the milk would froth with a hiss, and there would always be a steady crowd typing or chatting away incessantly. This ruckus, on the other hand, was something entirely different. 

 You had been assisting with restocking the back, storing bags of coffee beans and tubs of pastry cream into organized little groups, happy to be away from all the clutter and commotion of the lounge area. Everything was business as usual– until the shouting started. At first, it didn’t seem like all that much to worry about, being a high-end coffee shop in West Hollywood celebrities of all types would breeze in and out through the day. Each visit would either be punctuated by the staccato of demanding orders, or the sound of flustered employees running out the back exit to take a rather emotional “smoke break”. 

 Either way, when the shouting began you hadn’t even so much as raised an eyebrow in interest. From within the stockroom, you couldn’t hear the specific conversation, but the muffled squabble seemed to be getting more and more agitated by the minute. So much so, that you even debated popping in an earphone just to cushion it from your weary mind. 

 Before you could officially cave in and make a run for the cluster of employee lockers, a particular voice screams through the previous scuffle and straight into the back room. 

 “Don’t you know who you’re talking to you fucking slut?!”

 Your blood runs ice cold in your veins. That’s a voice you would know absolutely anywhere, and yet you almost can’t even imagine the possibility that she would come here in the middle of the day. Swallowing thickly, your nervous footsteps carry you through the stockroom door and into the back of the kitchen, just a stone’s throw away from the counter where one of your co-workers was, without a doubt, getting verbally assaulted. Now that you’re finally within earshot there is absolutely no mistaking that demanding, glacial voice any longer.  

 “I said, if you don’t let me see her right now I will turn your musty ass into a pile of dust before you can even–” 

 Without giving it a second thought, you round the corner and make a leap for the register, desperate to rescue this poor employee from the inevitable hell that’s about to rain down upon them. 

 “Madison!” you declare loudly, blood rushing to your face as every pair of eyes in the shop becomes trained on you, “What are you doing here? I, uh, thought you had an interview today.” 

 Despite the puzzled looks and wandering eyes from both guests and employees alike, you can’t help but be struck by Madison all over again. You can’t help yourself, each time you see her feels like the first time, yet somehow you find yourself even more dazzled as the days ticked by. Today she was a complete vision in baby pink Chanel, the tweed material of her mini dress cling-wrapped to her slender frame as her serpent black eyes hid behind a large pair of sunglasses– sunglasses that probably cost more than the poor cashier’s car. Suddenly, you feel pathetically underdressed in your department store sundress and shoddy black apron. 

 At the sight of you, Madison’s icy posture melts a little. “Kitten,” she huffs, unlit cigarette drooping precariously between manicured fingers, “I’ve been trying to reach you all damn day, but it kept going to voicemail so I figured might as well spill the beans in person.” 

 Your eyebrows shot up at the way she used her pet name for you in public. When you and Madison had first got together, she made you swear to keep it a secret. It wasn’t that Madison wasn’t proud to have you, or even ashamed to have a girlfriend, she just didn’t want the tabloids to rip you to shreds at a moment’s notice. Part of you always believed having you keep the relationship a secret also meant that, if things didn’t work out, no one would ever have to know Madison’s greatest fear– that no one would ever love her enough to stick around.

 Madison didn’t love easy, and she sure as hell didn’t make it easy for others to love her. She was mean-spirited, high maintenance, manipulative, and desired to make everyone’s life around her as difficult as possible. But it was the good in Madison that always brought you back. The Madison you knew was fiercely loyal to those she loved (although they were few), clever as the devil, and was never ever afraid to take whatever she wanted, when she wanted. And the knowledge that she wanted you, of all people, made your heart leap in a way you’d never felt before. 

 “S-spill the beans?” you watch stupidly as Madison’s confident smirk turns into a blinding, kilowatt smile. 

 Madison pulls her expensive shades off with a free hand, her sultry eyes lined with a smokey ring of gray. “Well, what I was trying to say before this dumb fuck refused to fetch you for me is that you can officially quit your job! You’re going to be living with me now, full time, if you know what I mean,” she gives you a wink at the slight innuendo. 

 The cashier makes an attempt to nod his head to the ever-extending line of angry customers, but your girlfriend is having none of it. “You hear that dipshit?” she clips, head swiveling pointedly, “That means we’re gonna fuck. Every. Goddamn. Day.” 

 You should feel bad for him, really you should, but you can’t help but be completely elated (albeit a little confused) at Madison’s unabashed proclamations of your relationship. All you ever wanted was to scream your love for Madison Montgomery from every flattened rooftop in Los Angeles; and now, here your girlfriend is, all but shouting it from the counter of your workplace. 

Feeling brave, you take Madison’s hand in yours, the blood-red manicure on her ivory hand glimmering playfully in the California sunshine. 

 “Mads, this is incredible!” you squeal, unable to contain the thought that everyone in the shop wasn’t just seeing you and Madison, they were seeing you and Madison together. “What on Earth changed your mind?”

 Madison rolls her eyes as if you had asked her why the sky was blue. “I got into the interview today and when they asked if I was seeing anyone I thought, fuck it! I love her, so why not?” 

 Your breath hitches in your throat at Madison’s words. 

 I love her, so why not?

 You had spent nearly a year with Madison and she had never said, not once. Sure she implied it. Each and every time you professed your love she would either seal it with a kiss or have some abused assistant deliver three dozen roses to your door. Madison didn’t admit love, she showed it. Except now, she had just admitted it to the entire world. 

 “Oh god, I know that look,” Madison groans, “Don’t cream your pants, okay? It’s not like you didn’t know.” 

 “I know, I’m just proud.”

 “Proud of what?” Madison nearly sounds accosted by the idea that anyone could be proud of her. 

 Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. You pull her flush against you, the chunky gold chain of her purse clattering noisily as she stumbles gracelessly into you. With a satisfied grin, you notice that her cheeks have a smattering of pink across them as her deep brown eyes soften beneath your gaze. 

 “Proud to be yours,” you hum, pressing a chaste kiss against Madison’s rose petal lips. 

 Madison allows herself to melt into you, if only for a moment. It isn’t long before your emotionally stifled girlfriend realizes just how public this display of affection is and pulls away. Most people would be offended by this kind of behavior, but you can only laugh to yourself as Madison makes a show of straightening out the pleats of her already perfect dress. 

 “Yeah, yeah yeah–whatever,” Madison grumbles as she shoves her sunglasses back onto her face, “Now turn in that filthy dishrag you’re wearing so we can get the hell out of here.” 

 Tugging the apron up over your head, you shoot Madison a confused look. “And where exactly are we going?”

 “Shopping,” she states matter-of-factly, “If you’re gonna move in with me you at least have to have enough clothes to fill your half of the closet.”  

 Your half. 

 Madison had been planning this all along. 

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Tag Post

Four Songs Tag/Playlist Tag

Tagged by: @yeongwvnhi and @jjinan

Rules: List the 4 songs you have on repeat the most these days (They were very similar so I just meshed them together hehe)

I have been in such a funk recently, and Day6 make feel better music and crying music so you can bet that I’ve been listening to their tracks a lot

And on the flip side some days I wanna feel like a bad bitch so Action Figure is there for me

My all time favorite Ghibli movie and yes I liked it before it was cool, I’ve even read the original book. It’s a great song to listen to when imagining fantasy-like stories

*cough* Angst. *cough*

Tagging: Anyone who wants to do this!

K-Pop Writing Tag

Tagged by: @yeongwvnhi

Rules: Handwrite your favorite group(s), your bias(es) in said group, and your wrecker(s)

Yes I write in all caps deal with it.

Tagging: Anyone who wants to do this!

Fashion? Tag

Tagged by: @hachanbaecon-main​

➼ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓  11/20

baby pink | iridescent | glitter is always a good option | no bra | minimalistic tattoos | cherry patterns | sweet-scented perfumes | wearing generous amounts of blush | doodling hearts | getting excited to pet an animal | fun nails | re-watching old barbie movies | hair sticking to glossed lips | heart-shaped sunglasses | taking pictures of the sunset or sunrise | stuffed animals | protecting nature | stickers everywhere | teen movies | the light rain that falls from a clear sky at the beginning of the night |

➼ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀  14/20

neutral tones | masculine outfits | studying languages | worn down copy of books | grey skies | turtleneck sweaters | loose-fitting pants | hair tied with a silk ribbon | trying to remember a cool difficult word you read somewhere to use in a convo | thick belts | minimal makeup | windows fogged by rain | vintage jewelry | blouses with cuffed sleeves | reading a murder mystery and trying to solve it | oxford style shoes | sweater vests | subtitled old movies in a language you don’t speak | leaves crackling as you walk | annotating books to express your emotions about the story |

|➼ 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐘  8/20

closet full of dark clothes | fishnet tights | makeup sweating off | neon signs | searching for unknown songs | chokers | band tees | doodling on old converses | finding smoking aesthetically pleasing but not doing it | weird humor | accidentally very dramatic | dim lights | layered outfits | chain belts | chipped nail polish | messy hair | low quality pics | piercings | combat boots | scribbling on desks |

➼ 𝟕𝟎’𝐒  7/20

colorful wardrobe | doodling flowers | wearing short shorts | using a bikini top or bra as a normal top | listening to ABBA | flowers in your hair | DIYing everything | jamming to songs alone in your room | drunkenly telling your friends you love them | patterned bandanas | mid-heeled shoes | messy braids | flared sleeves | walking barefoot on grass or sand | bold sunglasses | the good kind of tired you get after doing something you enjoy for hours | feeding stray animals | fun patterned socks | room decorated with succulents and other plants | likes to go roller skating or skateboarding |

➼ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 

collared clothes | drinking juice out of a champagne glass | getting excited to see the met gala looks | thick headbands | small pastel cardigans | making your friends take your ootd pics | plaid mini skirts | tweed two pieces | watching reality tv to pass time | frilly tops | watching old hollywood movies | academically driven | long manicured nails | new year’s eve fireworks | colourful tights | layered golden jewelry | yearns for luxury brand items | decorating your room with fairylights | cursive and neat handwriting | lace details |

short necklaces or long necklaces / studs or badges / dangling earrings or small hoops / belts or suspenders / black or white / silver or gold / leather chokers or chain chokers / plain rings or rings with stones / winged eyeliner or smudged eyeliner / vertical stripes or horizontal stripes / contact lenses or natural / skirts or shorts / dress-pants or skinny jeans / ankle boots or knee boots / fishnet or mesh / zippers or laces / cargo pants or jeans / heels or flats / black hair or blonde hair / bangs or forehead / long hair or short hair / chain bracelets or leather bracelets / natural hair tones or unnatural hair tones / plain or patterned / loose hair or tied up hair / oversized t-shirts or crop tops / buttoned collar or open collar / butterfly or tie / ripped jeans or clean jeans / eyebrow slit or no eyebrow slit / angel theme or devil theme / enforcer theme or criminal theme / cute or sexy / love or hate / school theme or work theme

Tagging: Anyone who wants to do this

[palakvalecha]

Emily in Paris Fashion Analysis (part 2)

Episode 4 starts with Emily wearing a fuchsia wool coat by Kenzo. The look is so polished that it's hard to guess that she is wearing a workout attire underneath, which is revealed later. Even a tie-dye crop tee and paired with sweatpants and sneakers couldn't stop this coat from looking elegant. This outfit looks so chic, it doesn't look like she's trying too hard. It's only when she tries too hard that she ends up looking stupid. One of my favorite looks for sure. Not to forget, the look features yet another Chanel bag.*eyeroll*

Next, Emily wore a flowy pink and green dress and metallic green jacket with Chanel scarf and Chanel green tweed bag. At this point I'm not even surprised. Not to forget the lilac booties. While I like the green and purple thing going on, I think it would be better if there was just one shad of purple in the entire look, and not three different shades.

Another look that is so blatantly Blair Waldorf. She wore a green Chanel tweed jacket (obviously), a tartan skirt, floral necktie, lime colored bag and a bucket hat with graphic booties. I can totally imagine Blair wearing a similar outfit, but with better heels.

Next look was a red, yellow and green plaid blazer which looks sophisticated and polished, but we later see a full version of the look, and of course she had to ruin the look with something over-the-top. This time, it's the shoes. She wore a plaid blazer with floral metallic shoes that singlehandedly ruin the look. I wish she had opted for something simpler. The accordian bag is interesting though.

Next, she wears a deconstructed color-block sweater, underneath which, is a white shirt. She wore it with a houndstooth print skirt. This look also marks the return of the lilac boots. She also wore a bag which was by....you guessed it. Chanel. This look wouldn't be too bad had she not worn that shoelace choker thingy.

Next, we see Emily in an Audrey Hepburn-inspired off-shoulder black dress by Christian Siriano. The look is a nod to Audrey Hepburn's look in "Funny Face". Her crystal headpiece and the crystal embellishments on her heels and bag really compliment the look. She looks stunning. To top it, this episode was filmed exactly where the 1957 movie "Funny Face" was filmed. (Just a little fun fact)

For her next day at office Emily goes a little casual in a tweed blazer, rolled up jeans, burgundy shirt and beige ankle length boots. The look is surprisingly very French. It's simple yet stylish.

Episode 7 begins with another preppy look. A lot of people compare Emily's style to that of Carrie Bradshaw's (from Sex and The City), and I can see that, but her style is more reminiscent of Blair Waldorf's style from Gossip Girl. This look is close to perfect. The lilac boots are back, and with good reason. The purple, white and pink button down shirt looks cute with the white vest, the jacket and skirt match, and the lilac boots compliment the the look well. So the look is cohesive. You know the fashion rule where you take one item off before stepping out of the house? (The quote by Coco Chanel) I wish Emily followed that rule. In this case I'd want her to get rid of the hat. It was such a beautiful look till she decided to ruin it with that hat.

This next look is... Meh. The sequin top with a blue cardigan and a pleated printed skirt and striped heels look looks nowhere near exciting. Why so many prints, colors and elements? It's looks messy. She paired it with a pink crossbody bag by Marc Jacobs bag.

Completely unrelated, but at the back we can spot the Stéphane Rolland dress that Sonam wore at an award function a few years ago.

For her next office look, Emily wears a red, green, yellow and blue plaid knit dress. At this point, we know she loves plaid. She styled it with hoops and a lime-colored coat. I like the fact that she used the coat to give the look a pop of color, which she also did a few episodes ago with a fuchsia Kenzo coat. I hate how they never change her hair.

[bishopgirl98]

Deadly Association

Working for the Drysdales comes at a price.

WARNING: Your spoiler alert starts and ends here. If you choose to continue that is your choice. No major warnings beyond that. 

Side Note: I’m going to try and be more active. If you’re interested in seeing more fan fics or more parts to this story let me know and I may come up with a release schedule. 

Ransom Drysdale x Reader

“Y/N, can you come here please?” Linda called out. I have been the  personal assistant to Linda Drysdale for six years now and news just hit, her father, Harlan Thrombey had committed suicide. I wasn’t there when she found out, but from what their maid, Carol told me it was not good. It’s hard to picture, but she actually cried. You stick around awhile and you learn some things. For one Linda has some very extreme, “I want to speak to your manager” energy, she’s ruthless, and is always one to boast about being self-made. She’s not, but compared to the rest of the Thrombey family, she’s not half bad. Harlan agreed with me once before when I first signed on for the job.  

Coming up to Linda’s study the door was open. I knocked on the siding, “Hi,” I spoke softly, “You wanted to see me?”

She quickly put her glasses back on and smoothed down her pink suit jacket before waving me inside. I reluctantly join her on the plush blue couch. She grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze, “Now, I have made all the necessary arrangements for my father’s funeral. I cannot have anyone screwing up this day.” 

Cue the Linda Drysdale backhanded apology, “No offense to you…” in three...two... “No offense to you, you of course, would have handled it, but I just want this to move seamlessly,” she said, “Only the best for my Dad, Y/N.”

“So Linda, what is it you need?” Certainly she didn’t ask me here for nothing. 

She sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Ransom.”    

In my five years of working for her she confided in me and when she did, it was about her concern for Ransom’s future. How he took everything he had for granted and tore down those below him. Ransom is nothing more than a spoiled playboy who just because he was born with a silver spoon felt he deserved the world. Ransom is quite the opposite of Harlan. Harlan was kind, truly self-made, and above all humble. Something the rest of the family, and dare I say, Linda included could learn something from him. 

“I need you to go over and check on him. Also please, make sure he will be in attendance to the funeral. I can’t have him missing this, especially after he stormed out of Harlan’s last birthday party,” she scoffs, “The nerve.” 

“I’ll go handle it, Linda,” I quickly grabbed my things and left. Damn, how did we get here?

                                                           I stood by the fireplace with Marta, Halan’s nurse, we had been quietly chatting about our lives lately. She had been wearing her usual sweater and jeans outfit. I never saw her since I worked mainly for Linda, but she had always been welcoming and kind whenever I spoke to her. Then  the family started getting rowdy over their debate, immigration. Spilling drops of whiskey and wine as it gradually got heated. And, of course, sweet Marta just had to be dragged into it. I raised an eyebrow at her, “Do you want help?” Instead she mouthed it’s okay and went over. She didn’t deserve to be treated this way. I couldn’t bear to watch so I walked into the hall near the front door and leaned against the stairs scrolling through my phone.

“Who could possibly be texting you?” I looked up to see that blue-eyed bastard smirking at me. He was dressed in dark blue jeans and a maroon cable knit sweater. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I quipped back. He hissed and clutched his chest.

“That hurt Y/N, it really hurt,” He choked out. He quickly recomposed himself, “Politics come up yet?”

I gesture to the living room, “Happening right now.”

“Welp, I won;t be here long.”

“Ransom when do you ever stay longer than thirty minutes?” I asked.

“Ever since I found out that’s how long I can handle being around them that long.” he smirked as he came closer. I could smell the musk scent of his cologne wafting off of him.  “Y/N, my father hasn’t been bothering has he?” Richard, bother me?

This caught me quite off guard, “Umm, no. Ransom should I be worried?” Before he could answer Harlan came out of his office and waved him in. He put his coat on the rack and strode off. Ransom knew something, butt wasn’t ready to tell me. This is unusual, especially for Ransom -- no comebacks, coldness, insults, and he didn’t even remark on me wearing my converse. He hated these old things and made a point to say so every time I wore them. Something was off.

Not long after I was caught in my own head. Ransom stormed out of Harlan’s office, snatching his coat off the rack barely missing my head. Linda noticed and gave me the signal. I sped off to catch up to Ransom. “Hugh,” I called. He instantly turned around, he hated being called that. “Sorry, my short legs can’t keep up, what happened?”

“It’s none of your business, Y/N,” he sneered, “Go back inside.” With that he got into his beamer and left. The family looked on from the window as I climbed the steps back into the estate. 

I saw Harlan at his desk, head down. I knocked on the door. “Care for a game of Scrabble, Old Man?”

“You’re on, Y/N,” he said with a small laugh, “Will you get the board?”

                                                          Harlan was always nice to me and the past five years every year on his birthday we played Scrabble, sure it wasn’t Go, but it was our game. I still have no idea what happened in that office, maybe he’ll be in the mood to enlighten me. 

Please don’t have a girl outside, please don’t have a girl outside…. I pull up to Ransom’s modern house and sure enough there is a blonde in a mini dress tossing her shoes at the front door. Sue enough, the ever so charming playboy is leaning against the window smirking as he downs some bourbon. 

It takes me about fifteen minutes to call the young woman off, but she angrily leaves after I convinced her to get an Uber home. Ransom throws the front door open once she’s gone. “I think that’s a new record for you, Y/N,” he laughs.

I laugh bitterly, “Well, you’ve given me a lot of practice, some would say too much practice.” He steps out of the way allowing me in. He clicks his tongue a couple of times. 

He shakes his head in disagreement, “I don’t think so.” The nerve. Okay time to cut to the chase.

“Enough, Ransom,” I say, “Your Mom wants you to be at the funeral for sure especially after Harlan’s party.” He nods while pouring some more bourbon into a shot glass. 

“As usual, I will do my best, Y/N,” he says.

“No.” I shoot back.

“Yes, and don’t go back and forth with me this time,” he warns, “You’re a stubborn one.” 

“Dealing with you I have to be,” I respond. It’s quiet and he’s just staring at me as he swishes his drink around. 

“Still nothing from my father?” I straighten up at the question and clear my throat.

“No, but could you tell me --” A knock comes from the front door. I go to answer it when Ransom steps in front of me blocking the way. “What are you--” 

He opens the door to an average height man. He’s clean shaven with glasses and a suit tucked under a tweed jacket. “Hi, would you happen to be Ransom Drysdale?” 

“Yes and she is leaving,” he says handing me my brown cross body off the rack. I shift past the man and the door slams shut. I head back to my silver Buick to find a note stuck to the windshield. 

“I know what you did” 

Shit. 

[larryfanficwriter98]

Chapter Nine

"So what have you wanted to do in all your time in Orlando?" Louis asked as Harry drove out of his driveway

"Go to Sea World." Harry said immediately

"Well then let’s go to Sea World. Do we need to turn back and get swim trunks?"

"Nah. We can get wet suits in a gift shop. Part of the experience." Louis agreed as he took Harry’s hand and laced their fingers together then laid their locked hands on his lap. Louis messed with the radio until he was content with the station.

"You've never been to Sea World?"

"No. Like I said my ex only wanted to go to Universal. We never went to Disney, the zoo, Miami, we only ever stayed here for Universal.  It's why the house is so close to the theme park."

"But you hate roller coasters."

"I don't hate them, I dislike them. I hate the first row seats to be exact. If I'm in the middle or the back then I'm good, I can't be dangled hundreds of feet above the ground with just a lap bar as protection.

"Well, I promise if we ever go on a coaster we'll get the back or middle seat and you can hold my hand."

"Deal." The drive to Sea World was quick and after Harry found a parking spot they got out holding hands immediately afterward. Louis had taken one of Harry’s many pairs of sunglasses from his middle console and pulled his phone. He huddled close to Harry as they walked through the parking lot and aimed the camera towards them. Harry grinned and Louis finally took the picture once nothing was giving away their location.

"Our first picture together." Harry said kissing his cheek

"We were distracted and busy yesterday." Louis said as he typed out "Happy Valentine's Day" on the picture then shared it to his story.

Louis was in charge of making sure they took pictures together. He didn't post anymore and didn't plan to until they left for the day. At first, fans seemed to be too nervous and unsure to approach them, but eventually, they did approach for a quick photo with Harry and he asked them to wait to post it until the end of the day which they agreed to. They walked around the park, going to each animal exhibit and watch a few shows before Louis finally convinced Harry to go on a few roller coasters with the promise of holding his hand the entire time.

***

After spending the day at Sea World and stopping at the shops so Harry can buy ingredients for their meal.

"Stay in here. I don't want you to see what I'm buying." Harry said

"What. That's not fair." Louis said even as he took the keys from Harry

"I'll be out in ten minutes." Harry kissed his cheek then climbed out of the car. Louis huffed but opened the glove compartment finding a CD booklet. He grabbed it unzipping it to go through his collection finding the classics of course then a few kid tunes for Lux that Harry told him about. Harry even had his own CDs which gave Louis a horribly brilliant idea as he gently pulled out the cd and pushed it into the player. He waited until he saw Harry coming out of the store before he pressed play. He slowly turned it up higher until Harry looked up and glared at Louis shaking his head. Louis laughed and turned it up higher until Harry was inside the car and turned it completely off as he pushed a bouquet of tulips into his chest.

"You are no longer allowed in my car alone." Harry said placing the bags in the back seat.

"Why the flowers?" Louis asked grinning as he smelled the white, pink, and red tulips wrapped in brown paper.

"Because it's Valentine's Day and I haven't gotten you flowers today yet." Harry said looking at him, "I can still get us into a fancy restaurant."

"No, I prefer to spend Valentine's Day inside. My last Valentine's Day I went out with..actually, I think my ex from Uni. Well, it was terrible. The worst experience of my life."

"Please tell me." Harry said grinning as he pulled out of the parking spot.

"To start it off our reservations got switched for someone else, so we had to wait an hour to eat. Then they ran out of the cheaper wine options so we got a more expensive bottle. Mind you we are in uni and work part-time in cafes and stuff like that. I had money, but not my partner at the time. So the wine was more expensive than I think he was comfortable with which is fine. Then it ended up being the chief's choice so we didn't even get to pick our meal and it ended up being five courses for dinner then two plates of dessert. Come to the bill my partner's card got declined which fine, I didn't mind paying and I offered to pay before we came. So he got embarrassed. Which is stupid. Then he asked to pay for half, at half price the total came just below what would have been our normal meal total that night. Well, it got declined again so I just told the waitress to put it on mine and it wasn't a big deal. He stormed out of the restaurant and drove off making me walk back to my flat with the lads in below zero London. I broke up with him, I made sure he knew it wasn't because of the card, but because he acted like a child."

"Well, my card won't get declined." Louis rolled his eyes laughing

"I wouldn't care if it did. I just don’t like going out on this day because of that experience. I'd much rather we have a nice quiet dinner that you make for me and we cuddle and watch a movie."

"Sounds perfect. I promise not to take you out on Valentine's Day unless I ask first and you agree to it. I'll gladly cook for you any special occasion we have together." Harry said kissing his hand

"You are taking me to Disney while I'm here right? I promised my sisters I would get them something from Universal and Disney."

"Of course. I haven't been there yet so I'm excited. I've already started planning it. It probably won’t be until before you leave though as I will have Friday and Saturday completely free."

"Sounds good. Then Sunday we lay in bed all day."

"Exactly."

***

Louis was instructed to go to the living room, bedroom, or in-home theater to set up their movie night while Harry cooked. So after scoping out the options he settled for the in-home theater. He made up the bed that was in the middle of the back row since it was the largest and the perfect spot in front of the large TV. Flipping through the movies he decided on 50 First Dated because Adam Sandler was never a bad choice. He left the room and headed to the kitchen practically moaning when the smell hit his nose.

"Whatever it is, it smells delicious." Louis said stepping up behind Harry to rest his chin on his shoulder as his hands slid from his waist around his front holding his stomach.

"Its pork chop in creamy Irish whiskey sauce, a side of potatoes au gratin, and a side of shell mac and cheese."

"You had me at pork." Louis told him as he kissed his neck, Harry leaned back into him as he stirred something on the stove. Louis wasn't paying much attention as he laid his cheek on Harry's shoulder and held him gently.

"Well, I'm glad I had you at pork. I almost made baled avocado, but I remembered you didn't like it."

"Fucking hate Avocados." Louis said grinning as he felt Harry chuckle in his arms

"So what are we watching?"

"The king of comedy. Adam Sandler 50 First Dates because Adam Sandler is never a bad choice."

"Sounds good. Now go away while I finish up."

"Fine. I shall go change into date night clothes that have somehow become a requirement."

"It's a date, Louis. Our first date." Louis rolled his eyes affectionately as he headed up the stairs into Harry's room. Luckily he had planned for date night when he was packing so he had a few nicer shirts and pants in his luggage.

He pulled out his light grey tweed pants that hugged his hips, ass, and thighs sinfully. He then pulled on a white button-up and went to the bathroom to style his hair back from his usual front swept style. He kept the bit of stubble, but trimmed it and put a tiny bit of cologne on before he brushed his teeth then checked himself in the full-length mirror on Harry's closet door. He made sure to get a few pictures to send to Liam, Zayn, and Niall for approval which he got within seconds. After that, he left the room altogether and headed down to the kitchen. Harry was pulling down plates and looked at him briefly only to do a double-take, his eyes staying where the pants hugged his thighs.

"Harry." Louis said gently grinning as he rested his elbows on the counter, Harry's eyes widen and he looked at lost as he kept looking at the curvature of his ass and the material hugging his thighs. Louis jumped eyes widening when Harry dropped the glass plates and only seconds later had Louis on the countertop with his hands-on Louis' thighs.

"I approve of these trousers. Like very much approve. I will buy you 50 more pairs if you promise to wear them all the time. Every single day. For the rest of our lives." Louis laughed shaking his head

"Can't do that love." Harry pouted, "you broke your plates."

"I don't care I have more precious china right here." Harry said causing Louis to laugh covering his mouth with his hand, "look at them...they're so pretty." Harry said squeezing his thighs again

"Go away. Go get dressed and I will clean your mess up." Louis said pushing Harry away

"Fine, but don't you dare ruin those trousers." Harry said before he was running upstairs.

Louis cleaned up the glass, making sure to get in every corner tiny pieces could hide in before he got down two more plates. He set them on the counter and went to go set the table for them. Harry's table was the type of table you could add or take away pieces to make it longer or shorter. Harry had already made it square table and two chairs across from each other with a candle in the middle of the table runner. Louis smelled the candle smelling a gentle floral scent, not overpowering by any means which was good. He made the plates putting a pork chop on each plate with a good amount sided on each plate as well before it set them on the table. Louis grabbed the silverware and placed them on the napkins then opened the bottle of wine that was out and poured them both a glass. By then Harry could be heard coming down the stairs so he corked the bottle of wine and set it in the fridge.

"Lou... I was supposed to serve you." Louis grinned as he turned out to look at his boyfriend who promptly took his breath away. Louis walked up to him staring at the sinfully fitted grey plaid pants hugging...everything from the hips down. His black button-up and jacket to match his pants were fitted across his shoulders perfectly. His long hair curly and falling just past his shoulders and his cologne smelled heavenly as Louis buried his nose in Harry’s neck breathing in deeply.

"We need a couple of pictures in your mirror before we stain our clothes with food."

"Agreed. Come on, but we have to be quick, or else the food will get cold."

Louis laughed as they hurried up the stairs and into the bedroom. Harry handed him the first phone they found which happened to be Harry’s. Louis opened the camera as they stood in front of the mirror together. Their bodies faced each other, Harry's large hand settled on the dip of Louis' back and the other one went into his pocket. Louis' arm wrapped around Harry's neck as they looked at the mirror.

"We look so good together." Harry mumbled against his temple, Louis grinned looking up at him.

"You’re incredibly cheesy." Louis told him before he pulled Harry down for a kiss feeling both of his hands go to his back to pull him closer. "Come on we have enough photos now let's go eat because I am starving."

"Perfect." Louis tossed Harry's phone om the bed beside Louis' phone and they headed downstairs holding hands.

Harry dimmed the dining room lights as Louis lit the candle. They sat across from each other and dug into the deliciously hot food making small talk that they hadn't been able to share over the phone. Louis told Harry more about the daycare and the kids and Harry told him more of the band members and his family. They learned new things about each other as well, small, but meaningful things.

After the dinner, Harry grabbed the cold chocolate-covered fruit plate and they headed to the in-home cinema cuddling on the bed as they watched 50 First Dates. Harry and Louis feeding each other different chocolate covered fruits and kissing a lot, neither of them actually watching the movie after the first thirty minutes. They fell asleep in the cinema with Louis cuddled up into Harry's chest.

[londonfog-chan]

The Trans!Reader x Jonathan Joestar That No One Asked For But is Getting Anyway Because Fuck Convention: Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

This one goes out to all my people who requested a Trans!Reader insert on my other blogs, I’m trying to test the waters with this one to make sure I’m doing it justice. No one should ever have to feel bad about themselves and I want this to be my love letter to all of my trans folks out there.

...

[[MORE]]

At first, she didn’t recognize the young man standing alone on the hill. Maybe you’d been chased off by him, and she worried when she saw your box in his hand. Heartbroken, thinking that your treasure had been commandeered by a brute. But the wind betrayed the boy, billowing locks of hair and instantly she broke out into a run, the turquoise fabric of her dress flaring out behind her as she hitched up her skirts, her blonde hair trailing behind her like a cape.

“I am here!” she called your name, and when the young man turned she saw the friend she’d known since infancy.

“Oh my!” the lightest dusting of pink tinges her cheeks as she skids to a halt directly in front of you. “You look… Dashing! Such fanciful clothes.”

“I had to make an impression darling.” You reply, smiling shyly and holding a hat box closely to your chest. “My brother won’t miss the trousers nor the blouse, but the shoes… They’re far too big for me. And… And I’m unsure how to tie the cravat...”

“Don’t fret, I can fix it for you! Look, I’ve even brought some things for you to pin up your hair. We’ll have you all primped in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

Like a mother, Erina Pendleton takes you between her knees on the grassy knoll. Armed with a brush and a coil of ribbon, she pulled and twisted your snarled tangles up and away from your face. You obediently pulled a man’s cap out of the hatbox and over your head as Erina finished with your hair and took your shoes off, pulling stockings from her basket and stuffing your shoes until they fit snugly when she tied the laces.

“Oh…” she smiles when she’s done, and for some reason it makes your heart tingle the slightest bit.

“What do you think?” you ask.

“I think… I think you’re positively handsome, and you seem to be less tightly wound. Especially around the eyes.”

You’re unsure of how you look, so you can’t say for certain that you feel the clothes have done anything to make you less of a wreck emotionally. Raising your arms over your head, you look at your shoes, the cravat Erina showed you how to tie around your neck, the tweed trousers. Everything is in muted colors, not a stitch of brightness to be seen save for the handkerchief peeping from your breast pocket. When you stole the clothes from the discarded trunk your brother left behind before he went to India, you felt exhilarated, frightened at the prospect of getting caught and possibly taking a switch for your boldness. Yet when your mother caught you taking them, she merely laughed and told you they wouldn't fit your brother even if you decided to fix them up, but if you wanted some play clothes they were more than adequate to serve that purpose. You decidedly felt deflated, a bit hurt she didn't really do anything and dismissed you as though you were an eccentric child playing at a game instead of a young man trying to come into his own. But you do feel something now that Erina has fixed you up… almost airy. And she is right, you don’t feel the strain around your eyes anymore. After a while however, you begin to squirm, indeed feeling something but not the freedom nor the personal acceptance you've been trying to achieve.

“My trousers chafe me so!” you complained. “Have they not managed to figure out a finer weave of fabric for the warmer months?!”

“Stop scratching! You’re being so vulgar!" Erina whines, but it does nothing to deter you from reaching into the band of your pants and scratching violently everywhere.

"Damn and blast!"

"Sophisticated gentlemen don't reach into their drawers and scratch in front of a lady!" she scolds, "You said you want to unleash the gentleman inside you, what would he say to this display?”

“Well right now the gentleman inside me wants me to tend to the war raging on my buttocks!”

Erina cries your name, begging you to stop scratching your rear end with a ferocity that nearly makes you roar in frustration. It does take quite a long time for you to relent, damning the conventions of polite society all the way and using rough language that the poor girl has unfortunately become accustomed to. For a while you complain some more about the clothes, the societal expectation to be covered at all times, the fact that neither gender is truly free of their own volition, and the revolution you wish to start for a society that is nothing short of anarchy.

"Everyone will be allowed to run stark naked if they wish to, or to be draped in silks and I'll make all these pompous aristocrats provide every necessity. I grow weary of hearing the necessities of decorum every five minutes when I simply wish to fulfill a human need!"

“Now, now…” Erina coos gently, brushing blades of grass from your trousers. “Look here, you’ve unsightly grass stains.

"If I must return to my flouncing hell I'll take care of it later." you told her. "Grass stains speak to a boy that craves adventure. An Odysseus!"

"I'm sure it does." she giggles. "But all this talk of treasure, we still haven’t taken care of the most important part.”

“… I’d nearly forgotten about that. Let me get her for you…”

You finally relinquish the tight hold you’ve been keeping on your hat box, slowly opening the lid and reaching in with both hands. Cradling your treasure as though it’s a child, you rock your precious doll back and forth, smoothing the cascading brown curls down and fixing her skirts. It takes a while for you to let go. You don’t want to let the poor thing go. She is far beyond a play thing, she was your bearer of the most heartfelt confessions and tears, the first to know of your beginning metamorphosis back when you feared Erina would call you horrific names if you told her your most guarded secret.

Now, when you look up at Erina, you know you’ve made the right decision to trust her. She scoots closer to you as you tremble, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and not once making a move to steal the doll from your grasp. In fact, she doesn’t presume to take it until you offer it to her, and then she treats it as though she is receiving a holy relic.

“Please…” you beseech your best friend, “Give her a good home, with plenty of love and affection. She likes to sleep beside your pillow in her box, and her favorite holiday is Easter, her favorite food is spice cake…”

“You can trust me, my dearest friend. I promise to take very good care of Aphrodite for you.”

Slender fingers reached forward to stroke your cheek, clearing away the tears that have fallen for the poor doll you relinquished. As she cleans your face, she tells you the doll will never leave her sight, fully prepared to cater to her every whim as though she's a princess and not made of wax. Yet Erina is right. You mustn’t cry. It’s only for a little while that Erina will have her, until you’re grown up and have a house of your own to keep your possessions. Unsure of your parent's reaction when you finally decide that they need to know they've lost a daughter and obtained a son, you told Erina it's better to keep Aphrodite away lest she is destroyed. You promised your dolly she'd be safer with Erina those nights you cuddled her, seeking reassurance from the persecution you knew you’d face from the rest of the world.

“When I’m a grown man, I’ll be a renowned physician.” You asserted aloud. “I’ll have a big house, millions of books, my piano, and I’ll play Aphrodite’s favorite songs for her every single day. If I am not accepted, then that will be fine. No family will be permitted to enter my abode except for you, my dearest Erina. We will have twenty dogs apiece, and I shall give them only the strongest names from Greco Roman literature.”

“Twenty apiece?!” Erina exclaimed. “Don’t you think that’s a mite excessive?”

“Not at all, in fact I think that’s hardly a proper minimum requirement for a house.”

All this talk of dogs and estates with room for a man and his doll makes you excited, and you cannot help but take your borrowed handkerchief from your pocket to wipe your face. The wind evidently shared your sentiments, as the minute you loosened your grip the scrap of fabric floated away on a gust that made you clutch your hat for fear of losing it.

“Oh no!” Erina whimpered. “I hand embroidered that handkerchief!”

“A thousand pardons darling! I’ll fetch it back!” you cried, and you’re up and running before she can stop you.

As you chased the scrap of fabric, you couldn’t help but feel elated. There was no tug at your waist that made your insides hurt and your breathing shallow, no skirts to trip you and confine you to a chair where you practiced the same stitch over and over until your fingers felt they would break. None of the insecurity and strangeness at inhabiting a body that did not feel like it belonged to you. You only felt the wind at your face, the hard earth below your brother’s shoes as you ran… No longer did you feel trapped, like a lion pacing a tiny cage in the circus.

You felt elated at last. As though finally, after all this time, you were living your truth.

It was Erina’s screams that finally snapped you from your euphoria. Pocketing the runaway handkerchief, you began your course back to the grassy knoll where you left her, fearing the worst when you heard her crying out “please! Please put her down!” Your heart sank. Not only was your dearest friend being assaulted, but her tormentor evidently had commandeered Aphrodite because there was only one other “her” that Erina could be referring to. She never referred to you in the old way anymore, not since your confession.

You made it just in time to see a young man being beaten to the ground, two other snot nosed brats, had commandeered Aphrodite and you heard talk of them going to lift up her skirts to see if she'd been made with all the right parts…

And the last thing you remembered was seeing red, absolutely seething with rage as you put a shoe up the ass of one of the boys and nearly launched Aphrodite into Erina’s arms. All the frustration, all the anger you felt your entire life of living a life that wasn’t yours, it came out in the form of an unchecked feral response that made the boys cry out for mercy as they left you, Erina, and the downtrodden young man alone. By the time you'd let them go, they could only hobble off pathetically. In your rage you vaguely recalled screaming to them that perhaps you'd check if they'd been given all the right parts, one of the boys had taken your brother's shoe to the groin and was being dragged along by his companion. Your face was dripping with sweat and tears, and your hands were sore and bloody. The blonde didn’t know who to comfort first, but when your eyes befell on the strapping young lad she too went to his aid.

“Don’t touch me!” he whined. “I didn’t do it for you, you know! A gentleman should always stand for a damsel in distress!”

“… then I suppose a thank you is in order for me?”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. Even you're shocked at the personality you've assumed in your new clothes. With little effort your voice has become commanding, a general's voice that is full of conviction. Your stance is confident, centered, alone in your room you often perused illustrations in books of the matadores from Spain and admired the way they carried themselves in the charcoal drawings. Compared to the uptight men of this era, you swore to yourself you'd reject the stiffness of aristocracy and instead would carry yourself as unyielding as a man facing a bull. The young man looks up at you, crimson with rage, shaking and nose streaming carmine down his face. He and Erina have the same bewildered and intimidated expression, and he flinches but does not lash out when you heave him to his feet. He finally bolts from the clearing, insulting you as though you’re the one that beat him to a pulp, and for quite some time you and Erina stare after his retreating form.

"You brute!" he whimpers as he runs away.

“Who in the blue hell…” you begin, and you see Erina approaching with an unfamiliar handkerchief in hand to wrap your bloody knuckles.

Through the blood, the two of you manage to read the words “Jonathan Joestar”, looking back at the expanse of land where the boy had run off to even more confused and left with far more questions than answers.

But one thing is certain and you loathe it to be the first thought you have in your emergence into boyhood: this Jonathan Joestar fellow is the most handsome man you've ever seen in your life.