#i wanted to sleep my holiday away mans…. :((((((( what a waste

[deus-ex-mona]

it started as a simple song-inspired fic, how did it end up like this

[ln444]

santa doesn't know you like i do. . .

kinda part 2 of this

cw: spiderman!lando, fluff fluff fluff, mentions of food.

now playing: santa doesn't know you like i do by sabrina carpenter & winter time by sabrina claudio

note: happy holidays everyone ! <3 here's my gift for you, enjoy! :D

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lando being late didn't really faze you anymore; after all, he was spider man, and that came with a genuine excuse. however, tonight was christmas eve, and lando has promised to spend the day with you. it was already 11 am, yet there was no sign of lando. you checked the news multiple times to see if any villains required his attention, but there was nothing. sitting in front of your phone, you debated whether to call him. perhaps he was caught up in something or even sleeping; you couldn't blame him, you see everyday how being spider-man affect him physically and mentally and it's not easy. still, the disappointment lingered, especially since it was your first christmas with him.

lando checked the clock in the small, crowded coffee shop, tapping his foot impatiently and cursing under his breath. thirty minutes had passed, and he was finally nearing the front of the line, letting out a sigh of relief. unable to text you because his phone had died –a common occurrence thanks to his absent-minded self with a perpetually uncharged phone- he continues to wait, his mind torturing him with the thoughts of you waiting for him, and his anticipation grows as the scent of fresh coffee surrounded him.

after what felt like an eternity, lando finally slips back into his spider-man suit, swinging his way back to the city. his mind is clouded with negative thoughts, weighed down by the guilt of being late on such a special day. this time, he didn't really have an excuse. he had spent a good hour attempting to wrap your present earlier that morning, followed by another hour swinging to get your favorite cakes from out of town, that you mentioned a few weeks ago. the thing is, he didn't expect the place to be so popular on christmas days. he blames himself for not waking up earlier or considering watching wrapping tutorials on youtube in advance, to avoid wasting precious time trying to do it all by himself.

his heart tightened at the thought of you sitting alone in your decorated apartment –the cozy space you both had adorned together just a few weeks ago. memories flooded his mind, recalling how he got easily distracted by you every time you needed his help. eventually, it resulted in both of you sharing kisses amidst the decorations on the floor, finishing late at night. with these thoughts filling his mind, lando couldn't help but wear a smile as he swung faster, his heart beating with excitement to see you.

with his backpack loaded with the gift he got for you –and that he spent most of his morning wrapping– and one hand tightly gripping the box of your favorite cakes, lando swung as fast as he could. he was determined not to ruin the cakes, not after everything he went through. most importantly, he didn't want to disappoint you. the thought of your smile when you open the box keeps him grinning as he fly through the city.

feeling a bit down, you decide to call lando around 11:30 am, but it goes straight to voicemail. frustrated, you toss your phone on the sofa and slump onto it. gazing out the window, you hope to spot a sudden spider-man at your window but a delightful surprise awaits. instead, you found a breathless lando, adorned in an ugly christmas sweater, that matches yours –you both made a pact to wear one today–, standing outside with messy hair, braving the cold breeze. opening the window in a hurry, you're about to voice your thoughts, but lando silences you with a warm, unexpected kiss. despite your annoyance, you find yourself kissing him back.

"well, hello to you too," you scoff as you pull away, observing lando entering the room. he closes the window behind him, and you stand there with your arms crossed, lifting an eyebrow. you examine his face; his nose and cheeks turned pink because of the cold and his eyes was slightly watery because of the wind, making it hard for you to fight the urge to wrap him in your arms.

"i... baby, i'm sorry. i can explain!" he looks like a lost puppy and your heart was about to explode. you find yourself already forgetting why you're mad just by the sight.

"look!" he pulls out a box, and it doesn't take you much to recognize the logo of your favorite coffee shop. your expression softens immediately as you gaze at the boy in front of you, who wears an apologetic smile.

"lando... are you insane? how did you manage to get this?" you take the box from his hands, your fingers eager to open it to verify if it's exactly what you think it is.

"i went to that coffee shop you mentioned, that's why i'm late. i'm sorry," lando explains, and you place the box on the table, your attention now focused on him. your hands slide around his neck as you get a closer look at his face, making your heart soften. your fingers gently caresses his hair as lando's arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, and he almost sighs at the warmth of your body against his cold one. "you remembered," you whisper close to his lips, your eyes drowning in his, and his smile widens. "of course," he replies simply, pulling you into a soft and warm kiss.

"i hate you," you whimper, and lando raises an eyebrow, confused. "you make it so hard to be mad at you," lando chuckles, pecking your lips. "you have every right to be mad at me, baby," he says softly, and you use all the strength you have to fight the growing smile on your face. "you know what it means, right? no more kisses for you..."

"what? never mind, you're not allowed to be mad me," he pouts, and you giggle, pulling him for another kiss. "well, you're excused for this time, just because you brought me cake," you pull away from his embrace and lando softly whines, feeling cold again.

you take the box in your hands, placing it on the small table as he eases off his backpack. pulling out the present from it, his eyes wandering to the christmas tree adorned with festive lights. a proud smile graces his lips, but it transforms into a heartwarming glow as he notices a present beneath the tree –his present, thoughtfully placed by you. his heart swells with gratitude and affection.

"wow, looks like you have better wrapping skills than me," you playfully comment from behind, drawing him out of his reverie. lando chuckles, recalling the earlier events of the day. settling beside you on the sofa, he envelops you in his arm. "oh, i forgot to mention that i spent a good hour wrapping it this morning, thanks to youtube," he laughs and your eyebrow arches in mock accusation. "so, you're a cheater!" he pulls you closer, both of you sharing a lighthearted laugh.

"let's just eat the cakes, please. i want to erase that traumatic moment," he whines, and you giggle, placing the box on your lap. as you share your thoughts on each cake, lando's attention wavers. lost in the light of your eyes, he finds himself enchanted by the simple joy your bring to the moment. the warmth of your laughter and the sparkle in your eyes makes the moment unforgettable for him. it's moments like these that become some of lando's fondest memories, wrapped in the comfort of your company. the way you can make every single little things so interesting always fascinate him.

you turn to him, a spoonful of cake in hand, bringing it towards his mouth. a smile naturally graces his lips as he opens his mouth to accept the bite. lando doesn't miss the way your eyes gleam with a mix of excitement and impatience, and he can feel his heart warming. playfully, he draws out the moment, savoring the anticipation in your eyes, earning a playful eye-roll from you. finally, he takes a real taste, and the widening of his eyes sends a momentary wave of worry through you, concerned that he might not like it.

lando's smile widens as he observes your reaction, earning a playful slap on his thigh. "so ? do you like it?" a hint of impatience can be heard in your voice and he takes the chance to tease you about it, responding with a small kiss on your neck, sending shiver through you; "so impatient, princess," he whispers playfully and your cheeks heat, which he doesn't miss either, only deepening his grin. "no but seriously, it's the best cake i ever taste," he sincerely says and a warm glow of joy fills you. as he pulls you closer, his eyes locked onto yours, and you exchange a gentle smile.

"maybe we should go there next christmas," he casually mentions and the idea of spending another christmas with him makes your stomach flutter. "i mean, in a car, of course," he adds with a laugh and you can't help but join him, quickly pecking his lips "i would love that."

you chose to spend the day in your apartment immersing yourselves in silly christmas movies –that you take way too seriously than you should– and sharing joyous memories of holidays past. the warmth and fullness in your hearts become a precious imprint, each second spent together etched into your minds forever.

in those sweet moments, lando felt at ease just being himself around you. the chaos of superhero life fading, and you presence became a comforting escape. with you, he didn't need to be perfect or carry the superhero burden. it was a simple, special connection where he could be lando, unmasked and genuine. he realized that the past months spent by your side made him a better person in so many ways.

lost in his thoughts, he didn't catch your question or the way you patiently waited for his response while he's dumbly staring at you. "lando! are you even listening ?" you whine and, to be honest, lando did not listen, too captivated in the depth of your eyes.

he doesn't bother responding, surprising you with a kiss that feels entirely different from any you've shared before. it's like lando is trying to convey something. the kiss is filled with an overwhelming amount of love and affection, making your heart threaten to burst out of your chest. it takes a moment for you to gather yourself and reciprocate, getting lost in the rush of emotions filling your body.

lando doesn't pull back after a minute like he always does. instead, he draws you even closer, your two bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces. his tongue meets yours, initiating a dance in perfect harmony.

both of your cheeks were burning, like two teenagers sharing their first kiss. in that moment, it felt as if it was just the two of you in the whole world. lando never felt so loved and complete.

"i'm so in love with you, i think i might go crazy," lando blurts out, caught in the passionate moment you're sharing. the words lingers in the air, both of you breathless from the intensity of the kiss. his eyes reveal a mix of nerves and sincerity, and your heart races with a whirlwind of emotions, making it harder for you to catch your breath. the warmth of the embrace deepens the impact of his words, making it hard for you to think straight. lando's cheeks are burning and he mentally curses himself, blaming himself for always talking without thinking twice.

in response to lando's heartfelt confession, you tenderly stroke his warm cheek, your voice carrying the sweetest tone. "oh, lando... i'm crazy in love with you," your whispered words against his lips feel like an intimate secret shared between the two of you. your words leaves lando in awe, his mind momentarily blank, and he can't help but pull you into another kiss, drowning in the depth of the emotions exchanged.

as the soft glow of christmas illuminates your cozy apartment, you and lando find yourselves lost in each other's arms. with every shared kiss, you both savor the warmth of the holiday and the special connection makes this christmas unforgettable. in the embrace of each other, you discover that loving each other is the greatest gift, and you find yourself already excited to spend next christmas –and maybe the next one, and so on– together.

______________________________________________

[clovermunson]

morgan, my sweet!! bringin’ on the heartbreak has caught my eye, and i’d love to hear your best fluffy finnick headcanons. what would it be like to spend new years with him? would he love it or hate it?

savvy, my love!! i’m so happy you requested finnick headcanons, because you know better than anyone that i could talk about this man for hours on end and never get tired. he’s got me gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. but you’ve asked for fluffy headcanons, so i’m gonna deliver. some of these are just general headcanons, some are x reader, so there’s some variety here, folks.

i’ve included them all under the cut, because it’s quite a bit.

join the party!

— so first off, i think that finnick prefers to stay in on new year’s. he loves the new year because to him that means new opportunities and a renewed sense of hope. he just doesn’t care much for parties, huge crowds, and obnoxiously loud music. not to mention, the capitol really ruined him when it came to those kinda things (i’m sorry that got a little sad). but he much prefers a quiet night in, enjoying your company and most definitely eating all of the leftover holiday sweets so they won’t “go to waste”

— speaking of eating all the sweets, he never passes up the chance to help out with baking. sure it’s a chore to keep him from eating everything before it’s finished, but he does his fair share. he’s just a got a sweet tooth, he can’t help it. “don’t you think i deserve a treat for helping?” he’ll ask as he’s already taking a bite from a cupcake before you even get the chance to answer. and he’s right, he does deserve it.

— finnick can cook at least decently. if there’s a night where you don’t feel like making dinner, he’ll cook and he won’t complain about it at all. but you better believe he’s treating it like he’s a world-class chef and he’s asking you to taste test everything (because let’s be honest, he’s not the best, but he’s trying)

— finnick is a cuddly sleeper. this is just a known fact. if he’s having a particularly rough night because of the nightmares, he’ll nuzzle closer to you and hold you just a little tighter.

— he loves loves looooves having his hair played with. it’s calming to him, and just puts him in a relaxed trance that eventually ends up lulling him into sleep.

— finnick odair is tough. as tough as they come, really. he has experienced incomprehensible horrors and he’s strong and well-built, but he’s the softest, most gentle man to ever live. a big 'ol softie. a total teddy bear, some might say.

— of course i think it goes without saying, but he’s a romantic. so much to the point that it would be nauseating from an outsider’s perspective.

— anyway. i also think it’s a given that he’s scarily protective over his loved ones. which is a little shocking, considering his general calm and pleasant demeanor.

— he’s the most unserious person ever. sure he knows when to be serious, but does he want to always be that way? no, because that’s boring. this man giggled over his own “death”, i mean c’mon.

— this man cannot keep himself away from water. any chance he has, he’s in the ocean because it’s comforting to him to be one with the water.

— he’s the most considerate person ever. he’s always thinking about what his loved ones would think about any given situation, and he’s always finding ways to make things easier for them if he can.

— his primary love language is words of affirmation, because despite projecting such a confident exterior, he’s riddled with insecurities and hearing that he’s more than enough or any receiving any praises in general makes him feel like he’s genuinely loved. but it’s closely followed by physical touch, because he’s also a very touchy person when it comes to who he loves, and he gives the best hugs because of it. what i wouldn’t give to hug this man, my fucking god.

[babsvibes]

for the rivals / enemies prompts…and ONLY if you want to….louigan, #3?? 👀 again NO pressure…..🫡

#3: taking care of the other while one is unconscious

How about established relationship domestic fluff for a Neighbors AU piece? Technically, this only works for the prompt because Louise falls asleep at the end, but let’s pretend yeah? I also tried to cover @sailoreuterpe’s suggestion of insults as a love language (because even if it’s not her favorite trope, Nikki knows her audience lmao)

At first, she thought the knocking emanated from a terribly annoying dream, but with every second of blooming consciousness Louise realized it was no figment of her imagination.

She groaned, eyes peeling open slowly then blinking at the new morning. The sheets rustled to the left of her. Glancing at Logan, whose furrowed eyebrows nearly took over his face, she snickered.

“People pretending to sleep don’t usually look that angry.”

“‘S not my fault,” he grumbled. “It’s been going for like�� a million minutes.”

“So what time does that make it?” Louise asked, figuring he had been on his phone already.

“Seven.”

Her eyes snapped out of their half-lidded state. “In the morning?! Who the hell is knocking on our door at seven in the morning?”

“It’s the first Saturday in December. Who do you think?” Logan, still refusing to open his eyes, shuffled closer and pulled at her waist. She sunk into him, enjoying being spooned as he kissed her neck in that perfectly lazy way reserved only for weekend mornings.

And another fucking knock rang out.

Louise balled up her fist and punched her pillow.

“Go make it stop,” she demanded.

She felt his “Nmn” rumble from his chest and down her back.

“Mmhmm,” she replied.

“NMnh.”

“MMhmm.”

“Nn” “Mm” “nnNNn” “mMmMm”

When they both hummed the same note over each other to see who would last longer, Louise cracked first, unable to resist snorting at the absurdity. Logan followed suit.

“I think that means you lost, shortstack. Go tell off Annie.” She didn’t move, so he continued. “You’re just so much scarier than I am.”

“Keep talking.”

“And so brave and cutthroat and beautiful-”

“Alright alright, enough of that,” Louise sighed. “I’ll go. Just move back. I can’t get out of bed if you’re wrapped around me like this.”

Logan didn’t budge. Shuffling, scooting, and otherwise wiggling to freedom proved fruitless.

“Seems like… maybe you don’t want me to get out of bed?”

Before he could respond, the knocking resumed. He sighed against her neck, giving in and loosening his grip.

“Every day I am in awe of your strength and sacrifice,” she said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Logan replied by poking her one ticklish spot. With an involuntary laugh, she moved away and pointed at him menacingly. The warning was wasted as he still hadn’t opened his eyes.

Gathering up all of her courage and the edge of the covers, Louise heaved herself up only to meet Jack Frost’s frozen testicles slapping her in the face. She yelled and buried herself back under the blankets. “Nope, no, absolutely not. Too cold.”

Annie, or at least who they assumed was their apartment manager here to drag them into holiday shenanigans, continued to relentlessly knock.

Logan sniffed. “Is that… is she knocking Carol of the Bells?”

“Carol of the Nine Hells more like,” Louise grumbled, hiding under her pillow.

“She’s just going to keep at it. Remember that time she needed Victor to sign a release form?”

“She camped outside for four days.” With a sigh, she emerged partially from her cocoon. “Okay, tell you what. How about we go together? That way we can suffer as one.”

It was Logan’s turn to sigh, but he finally cracked his eyes open. Morning had a way of making an honest man out of liars, and she watched him melt at the sight of her, genuine and soft. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, then he leaned in. She met him halfway for a quick kiss. When they broke apart, he sighed again.

“Fiiiine. On the count of three?”

“Works for me.”

“One.” “Two.” “Three.”

Logan all but fell out of bed, joints popping as though arthritis would be killing him in the next couple of hours. He stretched to the sound of more popping, blinked the sleep from his eyes, and looked back at her.

Louise had failed to move and, if possible, snuggled even deeper into the mattress.

“You witch,” he accused, grabbing a pillow and hitting at the general area of her butt. “You tricked me.”

“This isn’t the first or last time; you knew what you were getting into, idiot. Now go get rid of Annie.”

“Ugh, fine. But when I get back I want to be the little spoon.”

Louise hummed in acquiesce, shuffling the blankets so there was a spot for him to slip back into. When she finished and settled in, the only visible parts of her were a mess of black hair and the tiniest hint of a pout.

As he left their bedroom, Logan wondered how he was supposed to scare away anyone with the dopey smile he couldn’t drop.

[bhristyy]

To my new aquaintance, a 30 year old gay man;

We casually speak to each other as if we have met at least once before. Out of boredom and pure curiosity I asked him for his zodiac sign followed by finding out his lifepath number. He was a Leo and his lifepath number was 4. I was very familiar with this type of person.

My ex boyfriend whom I dated for years, towards the end of high school, had a significant importance in my life at the time. I told my new aquaintance that lifepath 4’s are extremely disiplined, like stability, routine, and structure. Extremely hardworking people, that like to set goals. Outside of that, I told him that I admire how much Leos love unconditionally and being a lifepath 4 is such an overlooked mentally strong person. Someone that can lose it all today and rebuild everything again. Once things go extremely wrong, I admire the fact that they can start from scratch and rebuild their lifestyle. He ended up crying in my arms in public because he had never felt so heard and so seen. He admitted that he use to be too busy pouring into other people’s cups that he felt empty and in order for him to fully love another person again he has to fully love himself.

Why Leos are my favorite sign:

This took me back to a time where my ex and I were together and we had fond memories. He was a very good partner and a loyal friend. I use to visit my friend’s house every day who lived down the street…

My ex was always there because they were bestfriends. He was someone who almost all the girls at my school had a crush on. He was 5’10, mixed with black and asian, toned with abs, built arms, tattoos, a deep jawline, quiet, and very calm. At a glance, I could tell he was good looking, just normally not the type of men I went for. He was a pretty boy.

Gradually we became closer, we started to sleep next to each other, and became more touchy. We ended up becoming friends with benefits because he expressed attraction towards me. He asked me out and we became a couple. I could already feel his love towards me growing everyday as we got to know each other. He had severe mommy issues. His mom ended up kicking him out and I took him in. He was forever appreciative of this. I was still very young at the age of 17 and he was 19. Living together made us know everything about each other. I had undiagnosed BPD. I was extremely moody, sad, anxious, jealous, angry, happy, and unhappy all in a matter of hours. I often took things out on him, because I was so broken and so hurt from childhood trauma and wounds. He made things at home as peaceful as he could. We would shower together, cook for each other, go on dates, and watch movies together. He always gave me half his paychecks, bought me my first car, paid for my upkeep, and helped me with my homework. I felt very taken cared of. He always remembered every holiday, birthday, and more. He did whatever possible to make life easier for me and always kept his word.

He truly loved me for who I was. He came home one day with my name tattooed. I felt really special and adored. We spent most of our days going to work, cooking, playing video games, and enjoying our time together. Being so young, I still wanted to hangout with my friends. We hung out with mutual friends, but it wasn’t the same. We both grew very jealous hanging out with the opposite sex. He thought I loved male attention, bruh-girls definitely didn’t exist in 2012. I guess it didn’t matter to me whether I went out or not, but I also felt like I was missing out on life.

We eventually had to move away from each other and both of us lost the ability to make effort or stay in touch, I suppose. I don’t remember our ending too much. I just know we tried to get back together again and we just didn’t feel the same. I mostly only liked him as a friend. I wasn’t able to feel for him romantically.

What I learned:

As much I think I wasted time, I actually didn’t. I learned so much from this. I learned how to appreciate the small things in life more and how to love. Us being together kept both of us safe from nonsense. We built together, worked together, and reached personal goals. I did not have immediate family emotionally there for me at the time. Later, when I helped him make amends with his mother, his family treated me like family. He showed me the love and loyalty I never got. I appreciate all of his efforts for being there for me. I wish I felt the same way towards him, but I didn’t and just couldn’t force myself to. However, I wish him the best sincerely and hope life treats him as well as he once treated me. We do not follow each other on social media and I do not have feelings for him, but part of me wishes maybe some day I will meet someone and will be able to give them a love so selfless, unconditional, and pure. I hope that he is doing well, married and with the children he always wanted.

P.S. I am sorry I never loved you in that way, but thank you for being in my life and showing me something I didn’t know I needed.

[officialkatie]

just putting a long vent under a read more (i hope)

i should have guessed that after a week of sleeping well (bc sick) i wouldn’t be able to sleep. also i hate my monday class. i have 10 left but god at what cost its completely unbearable and the professor is one of the reasons i dont want to teach anymore. how could you say to people going to school to be a teacher “youre gonna be so stressed and good luck bc it sucks”

i know i dont want to be a teacher anymore and im finishing my degree to get the job i DO want. but at the same time i dont want any job. i hate working. how do people do it. how has my high school italian teacher taught in the same place for 51 years and still going? how does he not feel defeated? i havent even started a Real Job yet and i hate it. i havent had a moments peace or a day without something looming over me since ever. since at least before covid. but then that added ANOTHER thing to loom over me that will never go away.

i hate that i have to have a checklist in my mind of all the things i have to do before i graduate. it should be easy!

-finish classes

-student teach

-get certification

but its NOT that easy. bc in order to finish classes thats this semester. thats 10 more sucky mondays with an awful professor in which i also have to observe 15 hours at a school (on top of the 100 required hours i already did, im not currently in a school and i didnt know about this and we were all so pissed and just another reason i hate this professor), 1 more week of incredibly intensive classes which GREAT! more time for the stinky class. 9 more tuesdays bc the schedule is so weird, all while working part time and doing homework and figuring out student teaching and having personal responsibilities and a relationship and maintaining my health. its no wonder im sick. then once the semester is over its work work work. bc i cant work while i student teach. no break for katie. i have to focus on holidays and pretending to care about people who cant even remember my birthday. its not that hard to remember. i remember all of yours so whats up with that. then i go to orientation for student teaching and then i do it. i dont know where yet! bc i have to email the man who’s been screwing me over every step of the way (another thing for the to do list). and once a week while i student teach i go to a seminar class. a new update to the academic schedule means my class could end at 10:40 pm. who does that. i live an hour away from campus. if my class ends at 10:40 im going to fail. then i do that for “75” days (in quotes bc there’s not even 75 school days in the spring semester yet thats my requirement?) and then i graduate. should be easy peasy. then i go to the real word and back to my part time job while i look for real job so i can move out and live with the one person who gets me and doesnt make me feel bad for living. and we’re gonna have a great life together but thats another to do list. find an apartment find a job move pay rent pay utilities try not to kill yourself make friends even though you’re socially inept ever since leaving college and your social life is in shambles. eat healthy.

im literally a mess and im so congested and i hate not sleeping and this is just making it worse. i have james taylor in my head and my stomach hurts so bad bc i ate like shit today. i wish i could turn off my brain and i tried using headspace app and thats another thing. i updated my student status and they sent me a confirmation. yet charged me for full price. and you cant even unsubscribe yourself. you need to email someone and so i did and they sent me back “we got ur email! sorry we’re taking so long:(((“ and charged me with a full smile on their stupid faces. if i can figure out how to rip from that app you bet your asses i will

i really need a break.

i feel so bad getting this degree and its not bc im wasting my own money. my parents are paying and they’re so supportive and dont care that id rather do something education-adjacent and my boss at my part time job says she’d be so happy to have me while i figure my shit out after graduation. all i have to do is drag my lifeless body across the stage at graduation. i have a part time job after that and i wont be tackling things alone after that. i have good references and im qualified for the job i want. all i have to do is get there but its SO HARD and i can’t stop thinking about how much its going to take to get me there. its like looking at a number line. sure YOU see the whole number integers but to me there’s a universe in between 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and 5. im trying so hard to not get caught up in those universes but man does that take brain capacity i do not possess.

if i have to work forever into an endless oblivion im going to hit myself in the face with a brick. i love having days off and going to museums and walking through the park and going around to coffee shops and record stores and just enjoying life. if my quality of life enjoyment is diminishing NOW what will it be like when i have to go to work every day instead of having off two days a week for school and to catch up on life?? am i doomed to be boring and hate life?? how can i live if i cant LIVE? (2 am drama,everyone.) the thought of taking “personal days” seems like hell to me. i just dont want to work on a schedule like that. i can give 10000% at work its been seen its been done but i control the schedule right now. take that away and it’s over

at least my dog barking at 2 am did not wake me up. i am already up sir and i feel like my butt is on fire. and my legs are so restless.

and another thing? he’s barking bc my sister is coming home. ever since she moved back home things are worse for me. she’s so messy and i am so not and it really gets under my skin and overwhelms me. and she is inconsiderate of other people and takes my stuff. why do i have to parent my older sister. doesnt she know she’s building up my resentment for her. i dont want to spend time with her and my mom looooves to guilt me about it bc of her relationship with her sister. but then she and my dad go and mumble under their breath about how they cant wait for her to finish her masters thesis (not gonna happen,im gonna graduate with my masters before her and she’s two years older than me and has been working on thesis for 3+ years now) and leave bc she’s turning our house into a trainwreck. why cant she just live with her boyfriend who is (to me) deadbeat. nice guy but like i dont even know what his job is? is there one? (also not fair to him bc the standards for partners in my family have been set verrry high: see above future roommate. he is universally adored while sister bf? jury is still out. also i maintain that my sister is a homewrecker. i guess both figuratively and literally at this point.)

anyways my tumblr is getting laggy so i guess thats my sign to end this. im sure that i will not sleep.

[bewitchingbooktours]

Christmas Bitch by Jack Lelko - Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza

Here and Gone – A Christmas Bitch Flash Fiction

 By Jack Lelko

One hundred years ago, on a Christmas Eve night, at the Whisk and Key Bakery and Bar, in the city of Nollag, Mortimer Skelly stared into his drink, absentmindedly rotating the glass with his fingers. Today had not been his day. How could it have been? His afternoon involved being called into the boss’s office and informed today was his last day.

Being sacked had certainly melted away his holiday spirit. He kicked himself for deciding to wear a Santa hat to the office. A ridiculous idea. He had tucked the aforementioned hat into the right pocket of his suit jacket, currently slung on the back of his barstool.

“The money from the check they cut me will justcover my rent, and, well, I don’t know…”

            Ami, the bartender, frowned. “I’m sorry, Mort. That’s quite the lump of coal that’s fallen into your lap.” She wiped the glass in her hand that much harder, feeling frustrated for her friend.“Just don’t try to drink away your problems. You don’t want a nose that will rival Rudolph’s. Also, you need to send that manuscript,” she said, putting a stern look on her face.

            Mortimer shrugged off the encouragement that attempted to buoy his spirits. Ami's exercising of blind faith was an unspoken stipulation in the contract between friends.

            “Manuscript?” a woman chirped from the other end of the bar.She had been so quiet that Mortimer and Ami had forgotten anyone else remained in the bar. It was late. Most patrons had already returned home to sleep off their holiday cocktails.

“You’re a writer? What’s it about? Hold on, I’m coming over.” She grabbed her coat and drink, an Earl Grey martini, and sashayed over. “I’m Ophelia, by the way,” she said in a loud and clear voice. She set her almost empty drink on the bar and took a seat, coat in her lap, next to Mortimer.

“I-I’m Mortimer,” he sputtered as he smoothed his red and white striped tie.

“Nice to meet you, Mortimer.” Ophelia grinned. Shepicked up her glass and drank the last bit of her martini. “May I have another one, please, Ami?” she asked, before turning her bright green eyes toward Mortimer’s pale blue ones.“So, this story. What’s it about?” She leaned on her elbows on the bar rested her chin on her hands.

“It’s, uh, about this man named Gerald. He…loses everything that was supposed to be a sure thing,” he began. (An irony not wasted on Mortimer.) “The story follows him through this journey of growth and self-discovery that, ultimately, leads him to the next chapter of life.” Mortimer punctuated his mini synopsis with a gulp of his eggnog with brandy and braced himself for Ophelia to scoff at his idea and throw her freshly made drink in his face.

That did not happen.

Instead, Ophelia thanked Ami for her drink, took a sip, and declared Ami had made yet another perfect cocktail before looking back at Mortimer.

“I hope Gerald’s next chapter has a happy ending,” Ophelia replied. “But don’t tell me. I want to be surprised. What’s the book called?” She swept dark brown hair behind her left ear and gave Mortimer another smile.

He exhaled, remembering how to breathe again, beamed back, basking in the relief that Ophelia thought his tale might be worth reading.

“It’s called Nothing is Something,” Ami chimed in, coming to her friend’s rescue. Mortimer nodded a silent ‘thank you’ in her direction.

“When’s it going to be published?” Ophelia asked. Her shoulders shimmied as if a chill had run up her spine. She looked from Mortimer to Ami to see who would be the first to answer.

“Well, I’m not sure,” Mortimer answered. He ran his fingers through his prematurely gray hair as if to comb out a definitive answer. “I’m only entering it into a contest. There’s no guarantee and—”

“Not with that attitude,” Ophelia giggled. “Look,” she pressed on before Mortimer could protest with his recent misfortune, “if you don’t think this book is going to win, why would you bother submitting it? You’re basically asking for the rejection. I mean, I know writers can be neurotic, but…” She let her thought go unfinished, choosing to sip her martini instead and look over her glass at Mortimer, challenging him to prove her wrong.

Ami grimaced at Ophelia. Who did this woman think she was?

“It doesn’t—I don’t think I should enter. Not now. I just lost my job and—” Fishing in the inside pocket of his coat, Mortimerpulled out his wallet. “I have just enough in here to cover my rent.”

“How much is the entry fee?” Ophelia inquired, unphased by the wallet Mortimer shook in front of her.

“I need a roof over my head,” Mortimer replied, looking to Ami for validation.

Ophelia waved her hand at the retort. “How much?”

“Twenty dollars.”

Ophelia shrugged. “Ask your landlord if you can be short twenty dollars. I don’t know you that well, but you strike me as a good tenant.”

“I am, but that’s not how it works,” Mortimer said, feeling himself getting heated. He shoved his wallet into the outer left pocket of his coat in defeat.

“Nope. Sorry,” Ophelia countered. “That’s how you’re telling yourself it works.” She pointed an accusing finger at Mortimer.

“I can’t.”

“You won’t.”

A long silence passed before Ophelia spoke again.“Mortimer, I’m sorry life has dealt you a bad hand, and on Christmas and all, but if you choose not to submit your book, how can the hand change?” Not waiting for him to reply, she placed money for her drinks on the bar, thanking Ami again, stepped down from her stool, and cradled her coat in her arms. Passing Mortimer, she tripped, knocking his coat off his seat. “Oh, goodness,” she said, almost face-planting onto the floor.

“You okay?” Ami asked, quickly coming around the bar. Mortimer hopped from his seat to assist Ophelia back on her feet.

“I’m fine,” Ophelia said through embarrassed laughter. “The coats broke my fall.” She quickly stood up, wearing a big grin, and handed Mortimer his coat.

There was a glint in her eye that he could only categorize as mischievous.

“Merry Christmas,” she said in salutation, wrapping herself in her red coat and stepping out into the December night.

Mortimer remained at the Whisk and Key until closing, discussing with Ami howbrazen and naïve Ophelia’s life advice had been.

“Uh…oh, no,” Mortimer moaned.

Ami found him turning out his pockets. “What?” she asked, not needing an answer.

“She stole my wallet! My-my check! What am I gonna do?” His hand dove into the left pocket where his wallet had been, only retrieving a crumpled twenty-dollar bill.

Ami exhaled. “Well, I guess the drinks are on the house, but I’m taking back your Christmas present. It’s a joke,” she amended, noticing the corners of Mortimer’s mouth pull further south. “Sorry. Clearly too soon. Second, I wasn’t going to mention this because I know how you are about asking for help, butI have a room you can rent.”

Mortimer made to protest. A futile endeavor, really. When Ami made up her mind, especially when it came to helping a friend, her resolve was stronger than any decade-old fruitcake.

“You can pay me when you can. Maybe after you win that contest? Or I could use a hand here. How are you with making donuts?”

Mortimer nodded. What did he have left to lose, honestly? “I have just enough time to do one more edit.”

“It will work out,” Ami reassured Mortimer.

“I know it will,” he said,actually believing himself.

Given that it was Christmas, the season of magic and wonderment, Ami couldn’t help but recall the stories about an angel that lived in the city, saving people from their misfortunes.As a little girl, her grandfather would regale her with these stories at bedtime.“Wouldn’t it be something if Ophelia was actually the Angel of Nollag?”

Mortimer laughed. “I don’t think angels commit petty theft, but I guess anything is possible.”

*                      *                      *

Ophelia returned from the bar to her apartment at the posher north end of Nollag. After hanging up her coat, she plucked the wallet from her pocket, moving it to a spot beneath a floorboard in her living room. She included a brief note on top of it that read, “Told ya!”

She knew Mortimer would find the wallet and note years later after his writing career took off, and he would move into this same space. Ophelia took a moment to marvel at her apartment. She’d be leaving it all behind, probably shortly after the New Year. Once she found a new soul that needed a little jolt to set them back on a journey toward self-actualization, she would shed this identity, returning to Nollag as a completely different person, at least on the outside. That was what angels do.

Unfortunately, Nothing is Something would garner very little attention. Mortimer’s second novel, Angels Among Us, inspired by the time a woman with some very sage and scary advice pickpocketed him, would place Mortimer squarely in the spotlight. His subsequent stories of inconvenience to hope would offer the citizens of Nollag solace during difficult moments, reminding them to never give up on their dreams, even when all seems dire.

Author’s Note: You can read more about Ophelia in the novel Christmas Bitch

Christmas Bitch

Jack Lelko

Genre: Magical Realism

Publisher: Nollag Bookery and Bindery 

Date of Publication: 7/27/22

ISBN:978-1-7374566-1-2  

ISBN: 978-1-7374566-0-5  

ISBN: 978-1-7374566-2-9

ASIN:  B0B62XN4W1 

Number of pages: 468 

Word Count:109,900

Cover Artist: Jack Lelko

Tagline: Sometimes Christmas can be joyful, triumphant, AND chaotic.

Book Description: 

The Angel of the city of Nollag is believed to work miracles for those who have lost their way, stepping into their lives to help redirect them toward happiness. Most would vehemently tell you Ophelia O'Leary is not that angel. Some, um, might choose from a list of other descriptors.

Overly confident and unapologetic, Ophelia is known for meddling in the lives and Christmases of her sister, Delaney, and her friends, Petunia Perkins and Calum Dooley. There was also that time she ruined her now ex Gregory McGregor's New Year's with an existential crisis. We also can’t forget that time she popped a Santa in front of a crowded shopping mall. (Oops…) Settle in as Delaney and company recount memories of not-so-silent nights and exposed secrets, trying to sort through Ophelia's antics, including a weaponized fruitcake and, just that one time, a bedazzled taser.

Looking beyond the stuffing and trauma, Ophelia had her reasons for this holiday havoc and giving up her innate ability to be two and a half steps ahead of everyone else. Follow Ophelia and step into the magical world of Nollag to discover that perhaps the best holidays need just a dash of mystery and a pinch of chaos.

Christmas Bitch is a magical realism story that delves into the ideas of identity, forging your own path, and the challenges that come with love. Sometimes, dear reader, things need to fall apart in order to come together.

Amazon      BN     Kobo     Google     Bookshop     Apple

A little wisp of a woman was power walking towards Ophelia. Her pristine white gym shoes outshone the snow that crunched beneath their soles. Her hair was in loose curls of a pale yellow. She was decked out in a cranberry jogging suit with the word “DUPA” stitched and bedazzled in large baby pink letters across the backside of her pants.

She was hard to miss. She was Mrs. Fulgencia Wick, a prominent figure in the community as one of the three founders of Nollag’s thriving business association. There was also Mrs. Vitla Slaughter who opened a butcher shop and later expanded her business into a full-fledged grocery store complete with farmer’s market from May to October. Mrs. Forina Baker was the owner of Salty N. Sweets: Sweets and Baked Goods before she turned the business over to her daughter, Cookie, upon her retirement. Mrs. Wick opened and still operated a successful taxidermy shop on the east side of the city and tried her hand at writing bestselling octogenarian erotica novels. Such titles included Past Visiting Hours, That’s Not Rigor Mortis, and The Breath of Life.

Ophelia had played muse to Mrs. Wick nineteen years ago, back when Ophelia was Jucinda Jorgenson. Since her foresight had left her after helping Delaney last year, Ophelia could not read the futures of new prospects. However, she couldn’t help but wonder if she could see into the fates of past clients. Doubtful, she said to herself pessimistically.

She stared intently at the powerwalking elderly woman, who had caught sight of her and was now excitedly waving to her in salutation. An abrupt, and somewhat unexpected, thought jumped into Ophelia’s head like an attention starved Kindergartener. The thought was an image of something that had not yet happened but could: a flash of yellow hair and a floating rectangular sheet of ice. She stopped in her tracks, placing a hand in the air as if to ask time to hold on for a minute, which Mrs. Wick took as a subdued hello.

The flashes of what could be did not used to knock her for a loop. I was pretty sure these weren’t going to happen anymore, she puzzled.

Apparently, unbeknownst to Ophelia, she had one more task to complete.

Her premonition told her that she had a brief meeting only eight feet away from the café in front of Auntie Pasta’s Negozio di SpecialitáItaliane. Don’t worry, though. She reviewed the now fleeting portent. It’ll happen forty-eight seconds after 11:35, or in approximately one minute and twenty-eight seconds…I hope, she added, her intuition, after all, not being what it used to be.

 About the Author:

Jack Lelko has been drawing and coming up with story ideas since he was single digits. He has a penchant for writing complicated plots and putting twists on fairy tales. His friend, Butler, would like to add, He has a sixth sense, a sight for the story, if you will...he pulls inspiration from nearly every crevice of his world and spins it into another for the pleasure of his readers. Jack’s debut self-publication is Christmas Bitch. He lives in the Pacific Northwest with his cat, Natasha Jane Nodognik. This blurb would have been longer, but she was demanding snacks at the time.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Neurdotically

Society6 Store: https://society6.com/neurdotically

Author Website: https://neurdotically.wordpress.com/

Blog: https://neurdotically.wordpress.com/the-blog/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/neurdotically_writes/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21953248.Jack_Lelko

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[enam3l]

rockstar eddie munson thinks any music is good music if it makes you happy

a little follow up ficlet / headcanons from the ask i got about what bands rockstar eddie likes to see and hang with. you can see all my rockstar eddie munson posts here to make sure you're up to date on all the lore 😭

Eddie fucking loves having the money and connections to take you to any gig you like. He doesn't care that he might not like the band or know the songs. But his heart flutters watching you mouth the words to your favourite songs. His knees go a little weak when you dance around him as if you're in your kitchen and not in a crowd. He can't help but smile when he sees you grinning whilst you take in the performance.

Festivals are a favourite holiday for you both. Together in the camper van or yurt or whatever crazy place you've ended up sleeping in, you carefully analyse the schedule. Each of you having a highlighter and choosing who you want to see each day. Then the dungeon master in Eddie comes out so he can organise your path for the day.

He loves how you both gradually get tipsy throughout the day, stumbling around the festival site arm in arm, talking about who you're excited to see. He can never believe the look of pride you get in your face when someone recognises him and you always offer to take their picture and miraculously always have a marker on you so fans can get an autograph.

Your heart soars watching him go wild to his favourite bands, living out delayed teenage years from when he never had the money to go to gigs. You hold his jacket for him and make sure to have a bottle of water to hand for when the set finishes and your man is dripping in sweat and exhausted from getting swept into a pit. He'll usually strip his shirt halfway through and you'll hold that too. When you think he's having fun lost in the crowd somewhere, he's really looking back at you. Grinning with heart eyes at you as you scan the crowd for him with a warm look in your eyes. Why would he look at the band when he can listen to his favourite songs live whilst staring at your sweet face?

When it comes to watching your favourites, Eddie is pretty sure this is one of his favourite ways of seeing you. Watching you a little wasted and dancing round him, holding his hand and twirling round to songs he's heard you sing to yourself constantly. Your little festival outfits drive him crazy, your fur coats and wellies with your knees a little muddy from splashing around. Eddie wonders if a heart can burst because when your favourite slow or sad songs are played you'll come back to him, press against him and let his arms wrap around you. He feels the tightness of your grip on his hands and can sometimes see a tear in your eyes as you away together. He feels honoured to be included in this vulnerable private world you get lost in when you hear these songs. Letting his face bury into your hair to press kisses, he can hear you whispering along the words.

The traditions didn't end when you became parents. Festivals simply became a family holiday. He didn't care as people whispered 'Isn't he that rockstar Eddie Munson?' as they watched you all holding hands, dancing around wildly in a circle. He wore the glitter his daughters put on his face with pride and would get matching face paint with them if they asked. If you look hard enough, there's a video interview with him being asked about his favourite bands at the festival this year, he talks totally normally as if he doesn't have butterfly wings painted on each side of his eye. Whenever Corroded Coffin plays festivals, it's hard to focus on the crowd when he can see you and the kids back stage with homemade banners saying 'MY DADS ON GUITAR'. He prays the cameras can't catch the blush on his cheeks when he spots your T-shirt that reads 'THE GUITARIST IS SLEEPING IN MY BED TONIGHT.' His favourite part of the festivals though is how you, him and your three girls all curl up together to stay warm in the camping bed.

No matter who the pair of you go and watch live though, Eddie crumbles in your arms when you kiss his cheek to thank him for the tickets and whisper in his ear 'I still can't believe I got to marry my crush from my favourite band.' Even though you say it every single time.

[moneymasnn]

I’ll try to fix you|Mason Mount

Notes: NOT PROOF READ This was a request but I accidentally deleted it from my drafts, so thank you to whoever requested this because it was just the sweetest idea, and I really really enjoyed writing this!!

Blurb: One where you and mason are childhood sweethearts, but you break up when masons choses the party life over you. After a year of not being together and mason being labelled as 'wasted potential' in the press, masons mum calls you asking for help, as a last resort.

It all started when he got that first goddam paycheck. You can't remember exactly how much it was, but what you do remember is that it was more than what you would ever earn within the space of six months, and he was receiving these weekly.

He was smart at first, then he realized that no matter what he did he was good at his job and that the money will always be rolling in.

It started with the big expensive gifts, which you were thankful of course, then the fancy holidays and your weekly date nights went from shitty pasta in your cramped university room watching a film on your laptop all cozy in bed to overly priced fancy restaurants in central london. 

You were proud of him, he deserved it, all of it. Especially when you had seen how far he had come and how hard he had worked to get where he was now. He well and truly deserved it.

 But when his attitude changed, your relationship changed.

"£24,000!? Mason, are you serious? How do you even manage to spend that much money on one night out?" You asked him, freshly turned 21 year old mason.

"It happens, it was a fancy place, I bought strangers rounds. It doesn't even matter, everyone had a good time." He waved it off like it was nothing, and that infuriated you.

You hadn't gone out that night, but little did you know it would be that night that finished it for you, he officially wasn't him anymore.

It took you about six months after that to leave, when some mutual friends had told you about him flirting with other girls in clubs on weekdays. ‘Nothing serious, just harmless flirting’ is what he would call it, but it hurt, regardless of whether he thought it was just ‘harmless’.

"I can't do it anymore." you weren't shouting, you weren't angry, just tired and exhausted.

"Do what?" It was 4:00am. Mason had just come home from a night out, he reeked of sweat and tequila, but you were more worried about the fact that he had training in exactly three hours.

He had stumbled through the door to find you sitting on the steps, your hair was a mess and your eyes looked ridiculously red and puffy, almost like you had been crying for hours, or like you hadn't slept for days.

All true.

His eyes then averted down to the large array of suitcases and bags packed by the door.

"Where are you-"

"My Sisters. I don't plan on coming back, mase." Your heart thumped, but you were done. You were finally going to have a good night's sleep without wondering if he was ever going to come home that night. You didn't need to panic hide his car keys on a night out so he wouldn't do something silly. You wanted to have a life where you weren't constantly worried about him screwing up his own.

His eyes widened as he felt like he had suddenly sobered up, pulling off his shoes as he walked over to lean on the banister of the steps.

"I- what? Why?" His face was full of oblivion. Like he was oblivious to the pain he had put you through the last year.

"I don't want this life anymore, Mason." You mumbled, tears welling in your eyes as you knew you were about to walk away from what you knew was the love of your life.

This was the man you had been with since 16, the boy who stole your innocence and your first kiss. 

The only man you had ever loved, and only ever will love. You knew you would never meet someone who will love you as much as the broken boy in front of you had. You knew even though you were about to leave him, you would still never picture yourself walking down the aisle to anyone else, there was no one else you wanted to have children with, start a family with, grow old with. But you had started to accept that if you weren't going to have it with him. You wouldn't have that life with anyone.

"Baby, don't be silly, I- Y,n?" He could see you were being deadly serious, but then he did something that wasn't him, and he knew it was wrong, but he turned it back on you.

"Are you going to leave me? After everything we've been through? All the holidays I've taken you on, everything I've done for you-

"I never asked for any of that." You were quick to shut him down.

There was a silence after that, Mason was at a loss for words. For some reason he always thought that no matter how bad he would ever fuck up, he would always have you.

"You've changed, you're not the person I fell in love with-" But Mason cut you off.

"Well I'm not sixteen anymore either, y/n." He scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air.

Your face turned red as you stood on the bottom step, your grip tightened on your bag in your hands, you looked up at the man front of you, his two top buttons on his white shirt were undone, with clear lipstick marks were smeared on his collar as you huffed out a laugh.

"No, sixteen year old Mason was kind and selfless and sweet, he cared about others, he put the people he loved first. Sixteen year old Mason wouldn't have forgotten that it was his own dad's birthday today!” You yelled out of anger, your finger coming up to point into his chest.

Mason's eyes completely widened as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the date, he rubbed his eyes with his palms as he suddenly felt a pit of guilt form in his chest.

"Yeah," your lips form a straight line, "kind of embarrassing when your boyfriend doesn't turn up to his own dads birthday meal, all because he was too busy doing body shots of a stripper and probably fucking some girl in the toilet."

Your anger had piled out now as you felt the tears stream harder, you pushed his chest a few times, causing him to stumble back.

"Y/n. Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry."

"Yeah," You grabbed his shirt as you placed your head on his chest, feeling the warmth of him for what you knew would be the last time.

"Me too."

It was about one year since you left his house and didn't come back. The memory of him stuck with you though. You knew it was done, but you had always wished he had called you, apologized, gotten sober and begged for you to come back. You knew Mason was stubborn, but the fcat he never came after you that night, never tried to contact you, he let you walk away. And you never knew if that's because he was done too, or if it was an act of selflessness, and he let you go for your sake.

He was being labeled as wasted potential on the front pages of most news articles, 'The boy who could have had it all'. That's what they were calling him. It started when Southgate dropped him from the squad, and then Chelsea stopped playing him after all his poor performances on the pitch.

It hurt you every time you were reminded of how you left him like that, you almost blamed yourself, but no one could help Mason, but Mason.

You never could find a love like masons again, you were so sure he was your soulmate fallen down the wrong path.

This was until his mum called you out of the blue, actually on what would have been your seventh anniversary. You spoke over the phone with Debbie for a while, she always said you were like another daughter to her.  She had known you since you were sixteen, sneaking around with Mason when you were just young teenagers. 

She explained how it happened, he had fallen into a routine, a bad one, and as much as you wanted to stay out of it, when she started to cry down the phone, pleading for you to try, you couldn't say no.

So here you were, outside the same big house you used to once call home. 

Not really paying attention as Debbie was waffaling in your ear.

"Thank you so much for trying to talk to him, y/n, we appreciate it so much."

"Of course." You fake smiled, the anxiety tearing you apart as you stared down the dead plant pot by the front door.

"He hasn't been to training today, he has training again on Friday and a match on Saturday and I have no idea what to with him, y/n he's just so-"

"Debs, I'll try my best, I promise." You were sure you could help, but for Mason's loved ones sake.

She flashed you a warm smile, that meant so much to her she started to tear up, again.

You walked through the all too familiar house, he had kept most of the things you had both chosen together when moving in here. Your painting you had picked out as a moving gift still hung on the hallway, your scented candle was still on the coffee table by the door.

But you felt your heart skink when you saw a beat down pair of your old Nike trainers at the back of Mason's shoe rack.

You walked into the dimly lit living room, no light in the whole house was on. Then you saw him. He was sprawled out on the sofa, complaining about how much his head hurt when he raised his head. It sounded silly but he thought he had caught the scent of your perfume. But then his tired eyes locked with your pitty ones.

"Mum-" he froze when he saw you behind her, the year he hadn't seen you and you looked so different, good different. It just proved his theory that you were doing better without him. The first thing he noticed was your hair, you had cut your hair shorter, dying it a lighter colour. You always wanted to dye your hair lighter, talking about it all the time, but mason was shocked by how good you looked when you actually did it.

"Why Is she here?" Mason's voice boomed throughout his living room, as he sat up, throwing his head back on the sofa.

"You need to sort your shit out, Mason! She was the last option, or me and your dad are done cleaning up your messes, do you hear me mason? DONE!" You could tell she had some pent up anger in that sentence, she was such a caring mother, and you knew it must have hurt her to say that.

You watched Mason's eyes well up, as he finally sat up, his head was in his hands as you decided to walk over and crouch down next to him, wrapping your fingers around his cold wrist.

"Mase?"

"I don't need your help, y/n." He mumbled into his palms.

You stood up, looking back at his mum that was in his dad's arms, no doubt sobbing. You walked up to Debbie and placed a hand on her back, "You guys can go home, go rest, i'll have him back in training by Friday."

When his parents left you kicked his leg, forcing him to look up at you.

"You smell like shit." You smirk down at him.

"Piss off." He giggled, his eyes were puffy, like he hadn't slept for years, his skin looked cold and plate, his hair was a mess. It really hurt you seeing him like this.

"Get up." You grabbed his cold wrist and pulled him up so he was standing in front of you.

You placed your hands on his face, as you pulled him in for a hug, the kind of loving hug Mason hadn't felt for a long time.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you nuzzled into him, feeling the tightness of his arms around your waist. You both stayed like that for a moment, feeling the warmth of your love.

You pulled away, standing on your tiptoes to place a small kiss to the boy's forehead, brushing his stick hair away from his face to get a good look at him.

"Shower?"

Mason nodded like a little boy as you took his much larger hand in yours, pulling him up the stairs you had said goodbye to him on and uo to the ensuite bathroom. Your room.

You turned the shower on, turning around to see Mason stood like a little child. He seemed so broken and fragile. He was helpless and he knew it. But you were going to try your best to fix him.

You turned to him, “Can I undress you?”

Mason just nods his head as he lifts his arms up for you to pull his shirt over his head. Mason pulls off his own pants as you start to pull off your own clothes.

It shocked him when he looked up and was brought to the surprise of your naked breasts, as you lent over to check the warmth of the shower.

You pulled his hand and slowly directed him into the shower, you watched as he threw his head back at the hot water cleaning his face from whatever he had been up to the night before.

Mason's back was placed against your chest as you grabbed the nearest bath soap and rubbed it over his shoulders.

Mason wanted to be stubborn, he wanted to protest and tell you he didn't want your help. But he just melted into your touch as your thumbs rubbed over his shoulder blades, washing the soap off of him.

You spined him around, rubbing his torso, it wasn't as toned as it was when you were last with him, he seemed like he had lost a lot of weight.

You then lathered up some shampoo in your hands before spinning him back the other way, rubbing the back of his head.

The shower was peaceful and intimate. In all the years you both were together you had never shared such a deep intimate moment with each other like this.

When you had rubbed most of his body and the bathroom was steamy enough you pulled away from the shower a little bit, rubbing your thumbs over his wet eyelashes.

“Are you ready to get out?”

Mason just nodded as you lent over to switch off the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around you quickly, before grabbing another, rubbing down his wet body and placing it over his shoulders. 

Mason followed you into his bedroom like a lost puppy. You sat him down on the bed, grabbing him some clothes to put on. Sill in your towel, helping mason step into a shirt and some pants.

“Can I borrow some clothes?” You asked him.

“Top draw.” He pointed to the set of draws by the door, but you were shocked when you opened it. It is all of your stuff, or what was left of it, yoru joggers, your favorite jumpers or masons. There were some polaroids at the bottom of the draw, birthday cards and a necklace he had gotten you for your seventeenth birthday with his initials on it. You tried to stop your eyes from welling up as you pulled out your old joggers and one of masons jumpers. 

You could feel his eyes watching your silhouette as you got changed in front of him. But when you were fully dressed you turned to see how tired he looked.

“Get into the bed, mase.” You directed him, but he didn't budge.

“I don't need you to feel pity for me y/n.”

“I'm not doing this for you mason.” He knew what you meant by that, he knew how he was hurting people. He just nodded and climbed under the covers, on the left side, his side of the bed. You got into the bed you slept in every night with him once. 

You pull your arms out, your hands in the air as you pat your chest for him to lay on.

Mason cuddles up into you, he relishes in the warmth of your skin. Swiftly listening to the fast rise and fall of your chest.

“Ive fucked everthing y/n.”

“I know.”

“I don't know who i am anymore.”

You sighed as your fingers rubbed the back of his hair, your chest tightening, not only at his sorrowful words but at the way he was holding you so tight, like he never wanted you to leave.

You just kissed the top of his head, “Get some sleep for me.”

You fell asleep with your fingers in his hair, still in the same position when you woke up. Your neck cramping slightly, but that didn't matter when mase was lightly snoring on top of you. You could tell he was sleepy, his mouth wide open as you noticed the small patch of drool on you, and his hand had a fist full of your shirt, pulling you close.

You checked the time on your phone, it was now Tuesday, at ruffly 8am, you had to get home for a zoom meeting at 10am so you nudged Mason awake. 

“Mase?” You tried to make your voice as soothing and gentle as possible as you stroked his hair to wake him up.

“Mase? I have to go, I have work.”

Mason groned at that sentence, sitting up slightly as you watched him rub his eyes to wake himself up slightly.

“Thank you for coming, i'm sorry you had to-”

“Shut up, don't thank me, okay? Because you know no matter what I'll always do anything for you.”

Mason just flashed you the warmest smile, before flopping onto you again, pulling you into a tight hug again. You giggle as you hug him back.

“Get ready, you're coming with me.” You smiled as you pulled him off of you, sitting up as you were about to go down and make you both a quick tea.

“To your work?”

“It's only an online meeting, from home, so just chuck some comfy clothes on.” You dashed out of his bedroom, steadying your breath as you made his tea just the way he liked it, or that was how he used to like it, you just hoped he hadn't changed that much.

Mason had come down the stairs and you both silently sipped on your tea, you made mason pack a quick bag of essentials as you told him to stay at yours for the night, to get him out of his house. He never argued with you as he packed his toothbrush and some more clothes and hopped into the passenger's seat of your car. 

You loved Cobham, the small town, it was quiet, no drama. 

But for some reason after you break up, you found yourself moving into the city of london. You mian thought was that the city would keep you company. But the busyness of London just juxtaposed with your loneliness. 

That is why Mason was quite shocked when he found you both driving to tower hamlets, the tall apartments he could never have imagined you living in.

The rest of the day was pretty calm, Mason was perched on your sofa, his mind wasnt focused on the tv but the view of London from your apartment, he thought it was beautiful.

When you had finished your zoom call it was around 4pm. You had fallen on the sofa with mason, talking about everything and nothing, living off the nostalgia of when you were just teenagers. You were laughing about old memories before ordering some food and watching a film on the sofa. 

Even after a year of no contact, it was like nothing had changed as you both bickered over what to watch, mason finding it funny to steal the covers off you. 

You had both fallen asleep like that. Curled up in your fluffy chelsea blanket that usually draped over your sofa, a blanket mason had gotten you when you first moved into your uni halls, but instead mason was wrapped up against you with the blanket on the sofa.

You both had done that all the way up till Thursday, you would laze about in your apartment all day. You would both wrap up warm and go for long walks along the river canell, sharing an airpod each. You would bath together everyday, sitting on either ends, throwing bubbles at each other.

As much as the week had meant to Mason, you really felt like it helped you too. You felt lonely in this big city on your own. And you didn't realize how much you missed his laugh, until you heard it again.

So when Thursday came back around you drove mason back to his home at night, the plan was to drop in off so he could sleep and wake up for training the next morning, but somehow Mason had weaved you into his bed. Not in a sexual way, the whole week masom nevr made any sexual avances towards you, you shared a bed for a week and all he wanted to do was cuddle you. So that's what you were doing on Thursday night.

Mason had gone to training no trouble, you had called his mother and she cried down the phone with thank yous, she just said she hoped he kept it up.

Later on on friday night, you were curled up on the sofa, reading a book, soaking up the silence now mason left, that was until your buzzer rang.

You pressed the button and that all too familiar voice rang through.

“Could you let me in, please? I brought you some chinese food.”

You were happy it was him, because you had only been alone a few hours and you found yourself missing him terribly.

Saturday rolled around quicker than expected, you were in the stands of stamford bridge once again, somewhere you didn't ever see yourself standing again. 

Mason's mum and dad and brother were there too. Ecstatic that mason was actually in the starting eleven. And just as expected he played brilliantly, he even managed to score a goal.

You were proud, so proud. 

However, you felt a sense of sadness come over you, almost like you had helped him, and now your work was done. The plan was for you to get him sober for a week, not to get back together with him, that was never on the table.

But when the match ended you found your body being wrapped around all of Mason's family members as they tell you how appreciative they are that you've helped him.

When Mason had stepped to the side of the pitch he jumped over the barrier, ignoring all protest of the fans and security, as his eyes were only fixated on you.

Mason's brother quickly nudged your arm, causing you to turn around, but you barely had a moment to blink, as Mason's arms wrapped around your waist, pushing you back as your arms wrapped around his neck. His lips attaching to yours in a teeth clashing kiss, just a simple long kiss, but to feel his warm lips on your again felt angelic for the both of you. 

Considering you were both around the eyes of fans and family, mason pulled away, but still never letting go as he pulled you in for a tight hug.

“Y/n?” he spoke into your shoulder.

“Mase.”

“I know I wasn't the best boyfriend ever, but would you consider giving me a second chance?”

But you quickly replied, pulling your head from his neck and pecking his lips. Nodding your head.

“Of course I'll give you a second chance.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank, thank you.”

Mason pulled you tighter as he kissed your temple.

“I'm never letting you go again.” He mumbled into you.

[leggerefiore]

I know it wasn’t on the masterlist, but may I get some general yandere Lysandre headcannons? If not, please ignore.

sure I'll write that

also have you guys ever heard about paris syndrome? it's amazing and sad

cw: yandere, kidnapping, character death,

🔥Yandere Lysandre HCs🍷

☕️ He's a busy, wealthy man with terrible, terrible plans, but that doesn't mean he can't slow down to enjoy a cup of coffee within his café in Lumiose. You walked in with a confused expression and attire that simply screamed 'tourist' to any local. Your Kalosian was subpar at best, but you caught his pale eyes in a foreign way. Such a beautiful person to have entered his life. There would be no hesitation in his endeavour to bring you into his close circle. You would never deny such a seemingly kind man's assistance. The heavy hand on your shoulder was believed to be a reassuring gesture.

☕️ A bond was sure to grow from his pleasant demeanour and tour of the city of light. It was impossible to not find a place at his side. He simply was easy to speak with despite his, at first, off-putting height and facial expression. His variety in language was lovely, with a slight accent. Often, he would explain to you the history of a heritage building within the city. You nodded along at his words. During your trip, you developed a tentative friendship with him. Texts and calls happened when you managed to get lost or needed a suggestion of where next to visit. You relied quite a bit on Lysandre, admittedly.

☕️ A meeting was had between you both in Geosenge, standing before three stones that jutted out of the ground. His azure eyes took in the sight with something heavy on his mind. The plan he had would soon be put into action. Your holiday was soon to end. If you left Kalos, you would die. The feeling in his chest was a suffocating one. If you stayed with him… You would live. To convince someone who barely knew him, however, was to be difficult. He knew everything about you, of course. His vast wealth and many connections were quick to provide him anything he wanted to know. A wind blew dust in the air as he sighed. The private investigator he had trail you was barely enough to relieve his mind.

☕️ Lysandre was not a fool. He knew his feelings were unhealthy, but at the same, he no longer cared. Humanity failed his expectations long ago; why would he care about their perceptions of love? His goal to preserve beauty forever was to be viewed as unhealthy, too. The only thing that mattered was obtaining you and keeping you for his perfect world. Though, the slight romantic in him would prefer you come easily. Kidnapping was messy and dirty… Against what he desired to create. He would betray himself once more, he supposed.

☕️ The romantic location was likely overkill, but he simply wanted to make his feelings extremely apparent. A high-end restaurant with solely you both in attendance outside of (his) staff, should anything go in a direction he would not prefer. It was under the low light that he grasped your hand. A single orange lily stood proudly in the middle of the table. “I don't believe I can begin to describe my feelings of love towards you,” his voice was a strong tone as he usually held, “Please, stay with me here in Kalos. I would cover any and every expense you may have.”

☕️ The shattering of his heart was to follow when you let go of his hand. Lysandre was unlucky, he supposed. You babbled out something about an obligation in your home and not wanting to burden him. He felt cruel with the sleeping drugs he had slipped into your wine. Your body was caught as it fell from the chair. The red-head felt a sigh leave him as he cradled your body. There was not a chance of him wasting your beauty; a beauty he wanted all to himself. Things would be better with you tucked away in his Lumiose apartment until further notice.

☕️ You woke up to the aroma of a fine brew as the porcelain clicked on the bedside table. The room was… red. Lavishly, so. It was obvious you were not back home, nor was this your hotel room. Lysandre ran a hand through your hair while you realised that you were unable to move your own. “It pains me to be so aggressive with you and commit to such vulgar actions, but this is for the best,” he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple, “We will have plenty of time to work on our relationship, now.” The kisses trailed down until they met your lips. You could tell there was no easy way out of his grasp.

☕️ He's loving and patient, with his worst moments involving yelling and isolation. You'll break sooner rather than later. Lysandre would never dare physical violence upon you, for he is not that kind of man. Your punishments are psychological rather than physical, breaking you into the lover he desires. Most punishments leave you in isolation with the only time human contact being when you're given food and water. The crimson, silken binds of your wrists signify that you are his. He speaks to you about his plans for the world. It's terrifying, but you can't argue with a gag in your mouth.  There's a reassurance that you'll be safe from it all, of course.

☕️ As begin to fit into his mold, you'll be lavished and praised. Dressed beautifully like a doll on display and sitting beside him as he overlooks the beauty of a glow Lumiose at night. Soon, if no one stops him, you know nearly everyone below will perish in his insane planes to make a perfect, beautiful world. Your will to fight is smothered into ashes, leaving you willing and submissive to him. His hand grasps yours as the world is taken away from you. You're led back to his bedroom.

☕️ A will to escape pulses through you as you realise just how capable his goals are. You're aware of his friends and contacts, but unsure of how to go about calling them. The first thing you should do is open the door of this isolate space and rejoin society. Lysandre had come to trust you enough to explore the apartment. It was a struggle to unlock his many devices set up to pregnant your escape, but you managed. Your hand reached out for the door and…

☕️ You opened it. Freedom called to you, and you ran as fast as you could in the fashionable, yet uncomfortable shoes that the man provided to you. The sun was hot on your skin as you dashed to a man you believed could help you. The professor of this region, Augustine Sycamore. South Boulevard came into view alongside the lab, and you breathed a sigh of relief. The receptionist pointed you to which floor. It felt much too long as you waited for the doors to open. You proceeded to give the man a fright for his life when you spoke of what his friend had done to you and how badly you needed help. There was a fear he would fail to believe you, yet he didn't.

☕️ Sycamore looked terrified from your words, but with how Lysandre had described his new lover, he could pretend ignorance. Passion was one thing; kidnapping was another. He helped stash you away and get you out of the country. It was a slightly sad parting from a man who showed true kindness toward you, but the return to the perceived safety of your home left you at ease. Your return was marked with a quick isolation and assisted by friends and family. It was on the news you one morning after everything had passed that you learnt of his Lysandre's apparent death after the collapse of his plans. You were finally at ease.

☕️ You hesitated. Pulling away, you feared what should follow if you failed. It was terrifying. You didn't wish to be alone again, with barely enough human contact to remind you that you were not alone. This led to you following him through his terrible, insane plans. He led his group to a believed perfect world, and you could only watch how everything unfolded. The few times you were allowed out into the world, you watched as people completely ignored your existence. It was as if you only mattered as a piece of him. It hurt, but there was little you could do. Lysandre mistaken ideas of love left you unable to convince him of anything. Did you love him? It was a mixture of feelings that resonated in you towards him, yet when his death was reported to you after his plans failed, you cried. You don't know why you cried, but you cried until a strange man in a trench coat came to interview you.

[lesbian-deadpool]

At Worlds End

Iron Man 2

Part Three: Monaco

Words: 3,379

Warnings: Canon violence, descriptions of blood, vague-ish talks of past torture.

Summary: You deserve a nap.

Ko-Fi

Commissions

(Not my pics)

---

When Tony had told you, "You deserve a holiday", this is not what you were expecting.

Yes. You were expecting sun. Beautiful spaces and another culture. And with Tony, brought luxury, so you expected to see a lot of that, too.

But you never expected your holiday to include schmoozing with billionaires and attending The Grand Prix.

Part of you couldn't even be surprised by the man's phrasing, although you could consider this somewhat of a holiday. But deep down, you knew that he just wanted you to be around.

You had arrived to screaming crowds, stepping from his Rolls-Royce, along with Pepper and Happy, following the man into the lavish hotel.

"You know, it's Europe," Tony began, back peddling to give you the warning, "Whatever happens in the next twenty minutes, just go with it."

"'Go with it'? Go with what?" Pepper asked, confused.

"If a man tries to sleep with me, I'm not 'going with' that."

As you spoke, you spotted Natalie walking up towards your little group. A smile tugged at your face as she drew ever nearer.

"Mr Stark?" the beautiful red-head gave as a greeting.

"Hey."

"Hello. How was your flight?"

"It was excellent-"

You nodded as you began to answer the question that was directed to the man, yourself. All the while looking around the business hall you were gathered in.

"It was good. Think I'm jet-lagged, though. Hey, what time is it?"

"-Boy, it's nice to see you."

Your eyes widened as you easily spotted the look Tony and Pepper shared, at the reaction to his words and the fact that Natalie was there. Reaching between the two, joining them in taking your drink's that were being served to you.

"We have one photographer from the ACM, if you don't mind."

A startled noise came from your mouth when your glass was pulled from your lips when Pepper pushed your hand down to rest by your hips. Looking up to find a camera being pointed directly towards the three of you before being suddenly blinded by the flashing light.

"When did this happen?" Pepper grit lowly over to the man with a fake smile purely for the cameras. As Natalie placed their back onto the tray.

"Oh, you're in shit now, man."

"What?" Tony replied the same way she was talking. All smiles for the camera, "You made me do it."

Realizing that you weren't supposed to be in those pictures, you manoeuvred yourself to the sidelines. Throwing your arm around the waiter, that was still holding onto their drinks as you sipped from your own.

You had a feeling you were going to need it today.

"I made you do what?"

"You quit. Smile. Look right there," Tony told, pointing to the camera that was still flashing towards them. Both of them giggling and throwing the camera fake smiles, "Stop acting constipated. Don't flare your nostrils."

"You are so predictable. That's the amazing thing."

"Right this way," Natalie directed the man.

As you watched the two walk away, you overheard Tony compliment the woman, "You look fantastic."

"Why, thank you very much."

"I'll take his, too," you said, reaching over to grab Tony's discarded drink.

"Oh, no, you won't." Pepper stopped you. Plucking the drink out of your grasp and placed it back onto the tray before lifting her own.

"Ah, come on. I feel like I'm gonna need it. And it's just a waste otherwise."

The blonde stared at you head-on, eyes hard as stone.

"No," she spoke clearly, leaving no room for argument.

"Tony would let me."

"I know he would. And that's exactly why I am not."

Turning your head to the side, you playfully stated, "I'm not your friend anymore." Only to receive an eye-roll from the woman as you walked to follow Tony and his new assistant.

"You have a nine-thirty dinner."

"Isn't that a bit late?"

"Perfect. I'll be there at eleven."

"Okay, now that's way too late."

"Absolutely," Natalie noted, following the man as he strode towards a table.

"Is this us?"

"It can be."

"Great. Make it us."

"It has a name on it." You pointed towards the name card. "You make a habit of stealing people's tables?" you asked humorously. Pulling out one of the seats to plop down into it, watching Natalie speak to the hotel worker, who had previously served your drinks, about the switch, out of the corner of your eye. Looking over to Tony as he rounded the long way around the table.

"It's weird how sitting on a plane can make you want to sit down."

"Get up." You looked over to find Natalie scolding you while pushing against your shoulder with two fingers. "The table's not yours yet." Then she turned back to the hotel worker.

"Mr Musk."

"What?" you asked as you heard Pepper speak. Twisting in the seat, so your arm was laying across the back, only to find the blonde greeting a man in a white jacket. Tony quickly made his way up to the man, too.

With a low groaned grunt, you raised from your seat, hovering over her shoulder just as she asked the man, "Will that be a problem?"

He sighed and spoke in a thick accent, "No, Ma'am."

"Thank you."

"I hate being surrounded by all these snooty rich people," you muttered to the red-head. Peering around the room at all the businessmen and women.

"You're like best friends with Tony Stark," she pointed out as you both made your way through the room.

"That's different."

"How so?"

"Tony changed. He's saving the world now. In many ways. What are these fuckers doing? Buying stocks and selling emeralds? I mean, that's all well and good, but they would rather save a few bucks than save a life. Hey, do you know when the cool cars are gonna start goin'?

Natalie looked at you like one would when someone acts like a fool, cocking her head to the side at your sudden change of conversation.

"You're like a twelve-year-old boy."

And what did you have to say to defend yourself?

"Pretty car go 'broom'," you said while miming steering a car in front of you.

Yeah, that.

"And now you're like a five-year-old boy." Then you were left to watch her walk away.

"Why are all the women I talk to today mean?"

---

"She's actually doing a big spread on me for 'Vanity Fair'."

"Oh, wow, that sounds like it's gonna be boring. Who's gonna read that?" you snarked. Passing behind the man, placing your now empty glass onto the bar, and gesturing for a refill, smiling to the bartender as you did.

"Sergeant Y/L/N," Hammer greeted, glancing at you.

"Not a Sergeant anymore," you muttered as he turned back to Tony.

"I thought I'd throw a bone, you know."

"How long did you beg for her to interview you?"

"Well, she did quite a spread on Tony last year."

You snorted into your drink at Pepper's words, having been filled in on the matter when you first started becoming friends with the blonde.

"And she wrote a story, as well."

"It5 was very impressive."

"That was good."

Your silent laughter couldn't be held in at the way the man swallowed his drink with a shocked grunt. Turning to the woman standing beside him.

"Very well done."

"Thank you," Christene said.

"So, either way, you get Tony sloppy seconds," you giggled.

"I'm gonna go wash," Pepper said, turning and moving from the group. Tony called after her.

"Don't leave me."

"Don't worry." You passed an arm around his shoulder momentarily. "I'm here."

"I'm all right."

"What? Are we going now?" you asked as they began to move from the bar.

Looking over your shoulder, you watched as the man awkward posed for a camera as Christine tried to ask an interview question.

"Listen, is this the first time you've seen each other since the Senate?"

"Uh... since he got his contract revoked," Tony corrected, moving away from the two.

"Actually, it's on hold."

"That's the least it should be, considering you broke a man's spine with a shoddy invention."

"That's not what I heard. What's the difference between "hold" and "cancelled"?"

"Yes, what is?"

"The truth?"

"No. The truth is," Hammer stumbled, "Why don't we put that away?" he continued to ask, trying to push the interviewer's voice recorder from earshot.

"Oh, maybe this 'Vanity Fair' piece will be a lot more interesting than I first thought, you smirked, coming to sit on the opposite side of the man, sharing an amused look with Tony.

"The truth is, I'm actually hoping to present something at your Expo."

"Can't wait for that disaster."

"Well, if you invent something that works, I'll make sure I get you a slot."

"Mr Stark?" the husky voice of Natalie suddenly sounded through the air, causing the man to rise from his seat.

"Yes?"

"Your corner table is ready."

"Hammer needs a slot, Christine," Tony called as you followed the red-head to his table.

"As long as it has nothing to do with me."

---

You were sat at the table across from Pepper. Gazing out of the window as she flickered through a magazine. Waiting for Tony to get back from the bathroom, when the french announcer pulled your attention to the TV, at Tony Stark's name.

Only to find the man on screen. Decked out in a race suit, the original driver threw his helmet down in outrage.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," you said, "Why did I expect anything less?"

"Natalie. Natalie!" Pepper waved the red-head over.

"Yes, Miss Potts?"

"Did you know about this?"

"Uh, this is the first that I have known of it."

"A simple "no" will suffice," you said, pulling your suit jacket off, leaving it draped across the chair. Next, going for your tie.

"This- This cannot happen."

"Absolutely. I understand. How can I help you?"

"Where's happy?"

"He's waiting outside."

"Okay, gat him. I need happy."

"Right away," Natalie said, turning quickly and scurrying off to fetch the man.

You jumped up from your seat not a moment later, tie now draped across the table, as you made towards the other exit.

"Where are you going?" Pepper called after you.

"I'm gonna make sure Tony doesn't end up killing himself!"

You really should have had Tony's drink, too.

Your chest was heaving as you vaulted over the metal railing. Huffing lightly, when you landed the steep drop, from the seats and into the pit, where the mechanic's and others working on the race were only permitted. But even with your jostling chest, you weren't as out of breath as others would be, after running through halls and paths, past many security, maintenance, and viewers of the race. Not to mention the stairs.

State of the art race cars sped past where you now stood. The zooming noises echo within your ears.

A flash of white and blue streaking past was all you needed to gear back up and start sprinting down the pit.

If you had to follow him with every lap of the race, you would do it.

You could do it.

It was only when you spotted the workers in white and orange running and looking around panicked did you know something was, truly, wrong.

Panic started to rise up in you at that point, pushing yourself to run down the path faster and to the source.

You thought once you had left the Air Force that you wouldn't have to do anything like this again.

But you should have known what being Tony Stark's friend would bring.

The unmistakable sound of an explosion filled your ears as you rounded the corner, spotting two flaming cars flying through the air. Unable to see anything past that area, thanks to the black smoke now billowing from the destruction. Then, another explosion aired. Followed by the sound of a car horn.

With greatly relieved breaths, you finally spotted Tony, hanging onto the chain-link fence, a few feet up into the air, holding on for dear life. Allowing yourself to stop running and bend over your knees inhaling cold air, letting some sense of calm wash through you.

Pepper's screeching, "Are you out of your mind?!" as you steadily walked towards the commotion filled your ears and made your eyes widen dramatically.

You already knew the answer to her question.

And so did she.

"Get in the car, right now!"

"I was attacked!"

With furrowed brows, you spotted the heavily tattooed man trapped between the safety barrier and Tony's car. Slouched over the hood, and a metal invention.

Oh, and whips!

You jumped when the door Tony had just opened was suddenly sliced in half.

The trapped man now rose and looked ready for a fight.

"Shit!" you exclaimed to yourself. Knowing what you had to do.

Looking down for a moment, you gripped either side of the shirt you still wore and tore it from your body. Buttons flying everywhere as you did. Leaving you in your white tank-top, knowing that the shirt would only get in the way, thanks to its material.

You rushed the man, all the while Happy repeatedly ran into him with the Rolls-Royce. Tony and Pepper screaming the whole time.

"Hit him again! Hit him again!"

Your bare palms, you peered down at one of them, willing your anxiety away, and for you to successfully help your friends.

Pushing into the metal again, making it bow with the force you were using, as Tony shouted over to you.

"What are you doing?"

You ignored him.

Only focusing on your task at hand.

Which was not made easier by happy ramming into the man, causing the fence to quiver.

Finally, the metal snapped with a spring noise. Repeatedly. One after the other.

"Take the case!"

"Give him the case!"

The sharp edges cut across your skin as you pushed your arms through the holes you had just made. Stretching them wider and wider, with your arms, cutting your skin in many places in the fences retaliation.

That's when the car stopped. Once you were bicep through the fence. And the man rose one of his molten hot whips and sliced straight through the middle of the car.

Quickly, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him against you, the chain-link the only thing separating you.

He looked down, confused at your arms wrapped around his chest and arms. Then over his shoulder at your face, directly behind his.

Your eyes shone with realization. But, by that point, it was too late.

The back of his head smashed into your nose. Once, leaving meral impressions from the fence in your skin. Then twice. Finally removing himself from your grasp. Giving him the ability to attack your friends once more.

Now bent over your knees, once again, this time in pain, hands holding onto your bloody nose.

It was at the very least fractured.

"Y/N?!"

"Are you okay?!"

"Give me the case!" Tony yelled to Pepper, "Please, come on."

You looked up to the back of the man's head, growing deep in your chest.

"That's it!" you spat through a mouth full of blood.

Taking a few steps back, you used that as your preparation to climb up the chain-link fence. Throwing yourself over the barbed wire, landing upon the tarmac.

"What the hell?" Tony shouted over to you as the compact suit engulfed him.

"I'll explain later!"

You picked up the chopped part of the Rolls-Royce just in time for you to use it as a shield against one of the man's whips. The power behind them sends you dozens of feet away. Back, sliding and cutting against the dented tarmac, just beside one of the cut-up race cars.

The sounds of Tony's repulsers powering up pulled you out of your daze into the sky with a sharp gasp.

Griping onto the sliced cars, cutting your palms as you did, you pulled yourself back up onto your feet. Turning to see Tony, fighting against the whip-wielding man.

Jumping into action as Tony got wrapped up in said whips before being ragged over the man's shoulder. Then into the hood of his car. Then the floor.

So, it was unexpected when you ploughed into his back and tackled him onto the floor.

"Do you mind?!" Tony's voice was distorted through the suit, as you had, invertedly, pulled him along with you.

"Sorry!"

The man now started to elbow you in your face, making you flop onto your back as he kept going. All the while, you tried to rip the mechanism from his back.

And you were doing well. Managing to unhook many of the wires and metal plates before a rocketing pain flowed through your skull and a burst of blood splattered your face.

'Why always the nose?!'

"Y/N!" Pepper called over to you worriedly.

From his place on the ground, the man sent electric shocks through the whip that was still wrapped around Tony's neck. The surging sound filled the air as he stumbled onto his feet.

Blinking through the pain, you watched as Tony manoeuvred from his kneeled position, wrapping his arms and body around the whip, gaining closer and closer to the man.

Sniffing painfully, you pushed yourself up with your elbow. Staggering up and towards the two sitting in the car, just in time, as Tony flung the man back onto his back, right where you were previously laying. Before ripping what seemed to be an arc reactor from the straps adorning the man's chest.

The man spat blood through his gold teeth, as he was being dragged away by French CRS Officers.

Laughing, he yelled over to the billionaire.

"You-! You lose!"

"He's Russian," you uttered, stepping closer to Tony. The metal-encased man glanced at you momentarily.

"You lose! You lose, Stark!"

The accent pushed you back into memories of dark, decrepit caves. Russian voices echoed across the stone walls as you roared in pain.

You would know what a Russian accent sounded like.

It being one of the many dialects you were surrounded with in the past six months.

"You've got blood on your face," Tony said after crushing the reactor in his palm. Gesturing a metal finger up to your busted nose and the splattered blood, the red substance coating your mouth and chin. Staining your tank top, "You've gotta get that fixed."

"No shit, Sherlock."

Yep. It was settled.

After everything that happened today.

You had to start training again.

---

"I don't know what to tell you, Tony," you said, gesturing your arms out by your sides. As he worked on making Pepper an omelette, "While I was captured, those fuckers stuck me with needles, which was painful, by the way, and now, I'm like this!" You gestured down to yourself, then pointed to the pan. "The eggs are burning."

"Shit."

"So, now I'm really fuckin' strong, and it takes a lot more to do damage to me. Hence why my nose isn't broken, only busted. Although, it felt broken."

"So, there's nothing else you can do?"

You shrugged, "I don't know. I can do anything a regular person can, only faster. Including healing." You pointed to your back. Still wearing the stained, torn up tank top, showing your bare skin through the cotton material, where it once was grazed and bruised.

"So, no like fire powers. You can't teleport?" he spoke in a joking manner, which was still incredibly intrigued, plating up the dish.

"Not that I know of. I mean, they stuck me with so many needles that who knows, maybe something else will pop up."

"Well, if it does." Tony pat your shoulder, pausing by your side. "You let me know, and we'll both handle it. Don't hide this stuff from me, okay?"

"Okay." You nodded, watching him exit the jet's kitchen. Glancing over your shoulder to look at the oven before calling out to the man, "Did you not make me one?"

"You know where the eggs are!"

"Dickhead!"

"Go lay down. You're cranky when you're sleepy!"

Tony laughed at your annoyed yet travelled throughout the jet.

Now that you think about it.

You deserve a nap.

---

At Worlds End Tag List:

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[butterflyyeo]

drunk in love

pairing - yeosang x fem reader

genre - fluff, angst (?)

tw - lots of alcohol consumption, swearing

wc - 10k

side ships - seongjoong, yungi

a/n -- was meant to be angst but turned into fluff... im trying my best to get better at writing angst aaaah. but please enjoy this for now <3 thanks for letting me tag you @iminchaosnow !!

------------------------------------------- you had known kang yeosang for nearly two years now. two, dreadfully slow and exhausting years.it was your final year of high school when he transferred to your school, he was a close family friend of wooyoung's. his parents had spoken highly of the school, insisting that yeosang transfers in order to excel for his last year of schooling. as far as you were concerned, he had decent grades, but he preferred to spend his time hanging around the skatepark after dark, when everyone else had left.

and in all the two years you'd known him, you had never once had a full conversation with him, despite being in your group of friends. his side of the 'conversation' usually consisted of monotonous 'yeahs' and 'mhms'. wooyoung constantly assured you it was because he's shy and that he'd eventually open up. but you weren't convinced. you tried so hard for him to like you, but your efforts were fruitless. it was infuriating, feeling like you were constantly doing something wrong whenever you were around him.

you currently found yourself in the backseat of yeosang's car, wedged between a drunken yunho and mingi while a chaotic wooyoung was singing along to his chosen playlist. (though, it sounded more like wailing.)

you and the eight boys had all decided to take a gap year, spend every last cent you earned on adventure and alcohol to make lifelong memories, before your careers became a blockade in your friendship. but the year was coming to an end soon, it was already mid november. on the bright side, that meant your favourite holidays were just weeks away.

yeosang was always the designated driver. that was something you had noticed about him over the last few years. to be honest, you weren't sure just how he coped with a screeching wooyoung, because you sure as hell weren't dealing very well with yunho and mingi who were playing a very intense game of rock paper scissors to decide who would be crashing on the couch in your apartment.

"i win!" mingi cheered, waving his hands excitedly. "you're on the couch, man."

yunho frowned, "damn."

you laughed, "it's okay, yunho. you can share the bed with me if you'd like."

"hey! that's not fair y/n! you said i could this time." wooyoung whined from the front seat.

"sorry, woo. you know i keep my promises, but you're going back to your apartment. remember?" you tried to reason.

wooyoung looked as though someone had switched a lightbulb on behind his eyes, "oh yeah! i forgot."

the four of you burst into laughter, mainly caused by the alcohol and partially because of wooyoung's realisation. and still, yeosang didn't crack a smile, hands just gripping the steering wheel tighter as his knuckles turned white.

soon, you arrived outside your apartment block, quickly stepping out the car after yunho. wooyoung wound his window down and you poked your head in, attempting to hug him goodbye.

"bye woo!" you said, giggling at your faltered farewell.

"good night y/n, thanks for the drinks!" he shouted, exclaiming a bit too loudly next to your ear.

"thanks for the lift as always, yeosang!" you yelled, pulling away from wooyoung's tight hug.

he nodded, "no problem." before putting the window up and driving away.

you pouted, turning around to face the two boys. "i just don't understand what i'm doing wrong." you buried your face into your hands, "why doesn't he like me?" you groaned.

"y/n." mingi began, "its nearly 1am, its way too late for this 'why does yeosang hate me?' crap." he shook your shoulders, literally trying to shake some sense into you.

"yeah, mingi's right. we've had this discussion a thousand times." yunho said grasping your wrist and pulling you up the stairs, stumbling along the way. (because lets be real, stairs are difficult enough as it is, let alone when drunk.) "now, let us into your apartment so we can eat your food and crash on your couch!" he joked, nudging mingi in a playful manner.

you reached into your pocket and fumbled around with they key for a moment before unlocking the door. the boys practically pushed you inside and made a beeline for the fridge.

"help yourselves! i'm going to shower." you called, dragging yourself to your bedroom.

once you'd finished showering you went back to the living room to check on yunho and mingi. not so much to your surprise, they had fallen asleep on your couch already, cuddled up into each other. it was cute, even picture worthy to show their sober selves. you reached for your phone which typically lived in your pocket, though you began to panic when it wasn't there. hurrying around the apartment, you searched every possible nook and cranny for your phone, but it was nowhere to be found. you collapsed onto your bed, snuggling into the soft sheets, too tired to worry about your phone anymore and content with the assumption that you'd left it in yeosang's car.

shortly, your heavy eyes fell shut and you began to sleep away the tequila.

————————

the next morning you awoke to mingi and yunho's deep, hungover voices, discussing their plans for the next week.

you reluctantly pulled yourself out of bed and dawdled down the hallway.

"ah! there's our favourite karaoke partner!" yunho greeted, jokingly.

you laughed, "shh, don't let wooyoung hear you say that."

"she's right, man. he'd be so offended." mingi said, stretching out his sore limbs. "how are you feeling today, y/n?" he asked.

"not the worst hangover i've had. what about you guys? you're welcome to stay here as long as you'd like, until you feel better." you replied, knowing them well enough to know that they'd need at least a few painkillers and a good meal before they went home.

yunho chuckled, "i feel like crap, but nothing a sandwich and glass of water can't solve."

"i second that." mingi said, raising a hand.

"okay, well in that case, i'll go to the store and get something for breakfast. sound good?" you reasoned, running a hand through your hair. you loved these boys, and making them breakfast was just a nice way of showing you cared. drunk or not, they knew how to make you smile and laugh, which they loved to see.

"sounds amazing!" yunho said, breaking into a sincere smile.

you quickly changed out of your pyjamas and slipped some shoes on.

"i might be a bit longer, i need to stop by yeosang's. i think i left my phone in his car." you explained, picking your keys up from the kitchen counter. "see you guys soon! feel free to take a shower if you want." you said, waving goodbye and heading out the door.

"okay, bye y/n!" the boys called from behind you.

the first stop was yeosang's apartment, he only lived about ten minutes away with wooyoung and san, in the same building as jongho. both yunho and mingi lived on the other side of town, which is why they so often crashed at your place after parties. seonghwa and hongjoong were fortunate enough to live in a house, just outside town, they had actually been the hosts of last night's party.

it didn't take long to get there. you pushed open the lobby door and made your way over to the elevator, disappointed to see that it was out of order for maintenance. instead, you took the stairs and began spiralling upwards. less than a minute later you looked up, only to bump into the man you came looking for.

"oh, yeosang! i'm so sorry, i didn't mean to." you quickly apologised, worried about creating another reason for him to dislike you.

"it's fine." he shrugged.

you both began to talk again at the same time, "ah, sorry, you go."

"i was just gonna say, you left your phone in my car. actually, i was about to bring it back." he pulled your phone from the pocket of his jacket, handing it to you. as he did, your fingers brushed against his. he spun around suddenly and began to walk away, "i'll see you around."

he had left before you even had a chance to thank him. slightly confused and frustrated, you turned back around and traipsed down the stairs.

you gathered what you needed for a hearty breakfast at the local convenience store before heading home and spending the rest of the day in the enjoyable company of yunho and mingi.

yeosang had entered back into his apartment and sat down on the couch.

"back already?" wooyoung asked, rummaging through the fridge.

"she was coming to get her phone and i ran into her on the staircase."

wooyoung sighed, "when are you gonna stop hating her?"

"i don't hate her." yeosang said, not looking up from his phone.

"then why do you act like you do?"

yeosang pretended to not hear that question and continued to scroll through his phone. see, he'd rather not dwell on things that he couldn't understand.

————————

to fill up your weekdays during your gap year, you had picked up a job at a hotel in town as a receptionist. to your dismay, your boss had asked you to work night shift all week, which is how you found yourself here on thursday night, sitting alert and waiting for the slight chance that someone might check in at this time of night. it was a pretty fancy hotel, and the job payed well enough, so really, you had nothing to complain about.

the nights seemed to drag on for an eternity. to keep yourself busy, you often wasted time counting the cars that drove past, or tried to count the number of crystals that hung from the chandelier. so far, only a few people had checked in during your shift, having come from overseas and recently arriving at the airport. honestly, whenever someone walked through the front door, lugging a suitcase behind them, you got excited as it gave you something to do.

the clock was creeping up to 4am and you let out a quiet yawn, feeling drowsy as your body clock hadn't yet adjusted to the change of sleeping patterns on such short notice. taking a sip of water, you shook your head, trying to stay awake. your head suddenly jolted up at the sound of the front door opening.

a man stumbled forward, and you'd seen enough zombie movies to become instantly paranoid. you quickly pushed the thought out of your head, feeling ridiculous for even considering it. but as the man got closer, you could smell the cheap, potent alcohol lingering on his body.

he leant against the desk, peering down at you. "i need a room for the night."  he grumbled. "my stupid wife kicked me out." he said under his breath.

you forced a friendly smile, despite feeling uneasy, "of course! i just need you to fill in this form with some simple details." you said, sliding across a clipboard and a pen.

he huffed, picking up the pen and scribbling onto the sheet of paper before pushing it back to you. "can i go now?"

"just a moment, sir." you replied, eyes skimming over the form as you copied the information into the computer in front of you.

the man was growing impatient, stepping from foot to foot with his arms crossed.

"uh, sir, you missed a part of the form. could you please provide your phone number here." you pointed to the empty space on the sheet.

"for fucks sake." he muttered, "i don't have my phone on me and i don't know my phone number." he said, annoyedly tapping on the desk.

"i'm really sorry, sir, but—"

"can't you just find me a fucking room?" he snapped, hands balled into fists and slamming against the desk, making you jump in fright.

before you had time to try and reason with him, he continued to shout.

"you're as stupid as my wife! i'll just find a different fucking hotel." he yelled, swiping the clipboard and pen off the desk. "useless bitch." he mumbled as he kicked over a chair on his way out.

you chewed your bottom lip, trying to fight back the tears. with shaky hands, you picked up your phone and dialled the first place that came to mind. after a few rings, the phone answered.

"woo?" you croaked, trying hard to not cry.

"he's asleep. this is yeosang." he replied, evidently having just woken up by the sound of his voice.

"oh." you began, instantly feeling guilty for waking him up, "i'm sorry i didn't mean to disturb you."

"did you need something?" he asked.

"i just, i was..." you let out a sob, wiping at a tear falling from your eye.

this didn't go unnoticed by yeosang, "are you crying? what are you doing awake right now anyway?"

"i'm at work." you managed to choke out.

"at 4am?"

"i'm on night shift."

"why are you crying then?" he asked, feeling something slightly tug at his heart, but choosing to ignore it.

you began to ramble, "a man came in and he was really drunk and complaining about his wife and then he yelled at me because i asked him to give his phone number and—"

"i'm on my way." yeosang cut you off.

"what?"

"i'll be there in ten." with that, he hung up the phone.

exactly ten minutes later, you were sat in the passenger seat of yeosang's car. he was dressed in sweats, clearly having come straight from bed. you'd left a note on the desk, explaining to your coworker why you wouldn't be there when she arrived to take over your shift. a silence filled the car, and you felt the need to talk, but chose not to, worried about giving yeosang another reason to hate you.

once you arrived outside your apartment building, you were surprised that yeosang got out the car too and trailed closely behind you up the stairs to your apartment. when you reached the door you spun around to face him.

"thank you for bringing me home." you said, voice quiet and still rather shaken up.

"it's no problem. good night, y/n." he replied, sensing that you were still upset. he suddenly felt this overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around you tightly and not let go until you stopped crying. he wanted to protect you from every drunk idiot on the planet. he wanted to make you feel safe.

but instead, he watched as you closed the door behind you and locked it from inside.

————————

you arrived at work the next morning, instantly feeling more comfortable with cleaners, employees and people coming and going. immediately, you headed for your boss's office.

"good morning, sir. i just wanted to come and apologise for leaving my shift early last night. i can assure you it won't happen again." you said, feeling nervous as to what your boss might say.

he shook his head, "i should be the one apologising, a man came in this morning and spoke very sternly about the safety problems here. i realise now how stupid it was of me to make you work night shift, alone, at such a young age. we've hired security guards and have also made sure that two people will be on desk at all times. i'm sorry that you had to deal with that."

you were at a loss for words, you didn't think that there would be such drastic changes just from the once incident. "thank you so much." you replied.

"for now, take the rest of the day off. you'll only be working day shifts for next week and can return to doing night shifts whenever you feel ready to do so." your boss said, motioning for the door.

the rest of the day you spent in deep sleep, catching up on some much overdue rest.

———————

weeks passed and you found that work was much more enjoyable. you still hadn't returned to working night shifts, but at least now you had someone to run the front desk with you and keep you company.

this weekend, you were going to visit hongjoong and seonghwa. hongjoong was sick and so you decided to go help out since seonghwa couldn't always be there to look after him.

you knocked on their front door and was surprised to be greeted by san.

"good afternoon! come in." he gave you a hug before ushering you inside.

"what are you doing here?" you said, following him down the hall.

in the living room, you saw all eight of the boys gathered around a couch-ridden hongjoong.

"jongho was already here when me, yeosang and woo arrived." san explained.

"yeah, and then mingi and yunho turned up." wooyoung continued.

"y/n! i have never been more glad to see you! you gotta save me from them." hongjoong laughed, arms open, signalling for a hug.

you went over and embraced him in a hug, "good thing i brought an excessive amount of cookies." you said, placing the box of cookies on the coffee table next to the couch. the table was covered in empty mugs and bowls, you could tell seonghwa had been busy and hadn't had the chance to clean up. you opened up the box and handed him a cookie before offering them around to the rest of the boys.

"you're the best cook ever." mingi said, taking a big bite.

"i made you spaghetti last night!" yunho countered, feeling offended that his roommate didn't think he was the better cook. mingi just laughed and took another bite.

"jongho get off the counter, please." seonghwa said, coming through the front door. "don't be so comfortable, you were throwing up in my toilet like a month ago." he joked.

yeosang glanced your way, his eyebrows furrowed like he was contemplating something.

"lets head off and give these two some space." yunho said, dragging mingi behind him.

wooyoung stood up, "yeah, lets get going."

yeosang pulled his keys from his pocket, "okay, bye guys." he said, heading down the hallway.

"can we get some food on the way home?" you heard san call as they left.

"bye hongjoong! i hope you're feeling better soon." jongho said, "bye seonghwa, i promise i won't throw up in your toilet any time soon." he joked, leaving through the front door.

"seonghwa, how are you? don't forget to take some time for yourself as well." you frowned.

"i'm tired, but i'll be okay. i just gotta clean up and—"

"why don't you go rest a while? i can keep hongjoong company for a few hours." you reasoned, wanting to help as much as possible. there was nothing you hated more than seeing you friends in distress and upset.

he looked between hongjoong and yourself, "i couldn't."

hongjoong let out an audible huff, "hwa! will you just let her help please, she clearly wants to."

you grinned, "exactly, now go read or sleep or watch some tv or something." you said, gently pushing him towards their shared bedroom.

you spent the afternoon tidying up and talking with hongjoong. you managed to do all the dishes and put them away before scouring their kitchen, deciding on what you could use for dinner. you found everything you needed for a decent meal and began cooking it up. hongjoong had dozed off mid conversation, surrounded in a pile of tissues, you chose to let him sleep so he would recover quicker.

about an hour later, you placed two steamy hot meals onto their dining table next to two full glasses of water. you quietly knocked on their bedroom door, finding seonghwa asleep amongst the covers.

you gently shook him awake, "hwa, i made dinner for you guys. you can wake joong up, i'll head off now." you said with a smile.

leaving the two of them to enjoy their dinner, you headed home and cooked yourself something to eat. it was nice having some time to yourself, but saturday nights were becoming more and more empty as winter grew closer. december was only days away and the year would soon come to an end. you reached for the phone, suddenly desperately missing your friends despite only seeing them hours ago.

"hey woo, are you free next weekend?" you asked.

he paused a moment, "i think so, why?"

"you wanna go out with the others? it's been a while since we have all caught up for drinks."

"count me in!" wooyoung cheered.

you called everyone else up and they all agreed, even hongjoong promised to come if he was feeling better.

————————

you found yourself surrounded by wooyoung, san, yunho and mingi as the music blared. it was a less popular club on the far side of town but it was a comfortable place for you all. you often came here for drinks and the staff members knew you, quite well, a little too well. san grabbed your hand and spun you around a few times with the music.

you laughed, leaning against him, "maybe spinning around isn't the best idea right after two shots of vodka."

"what?" san yelled into your ear, struggling to hear you over the music.

you laughed louder, pulling him closer to you, "i said, spinning is not a good idea after drinking vodka!"

"oh!" he joined you in laughing before trying to twirl you around once more.

hongjoong and seonghwa sat at the bar, holding hands and being intimate as always. yeosang was sat next to jongho at a booth, quietly talking with him, but from the corner of your eye, you saw jongho stand up and walk away. your eyes watched him worriedly and you couldn't help but run after him. you followed him as best you could, stumbling every now and then. he'd gone to the bathroom so you patiently waited outside until he came back, looking slightly pale.

you practically leapt at him, doing a quick scan to make sure he was okay, "jongho? are you alright?"

he smiled at your overwhelming concern, "yeah, i just drank too much as usual. i'll be alright, you can go back to dancing."

"let me just get you some water first. i'll be right back okay?" you patted his shoulder. "don't go anywhere i'll be back in a second."

you made your way back to where jongho had been sitting with yeosang. as you approached, yeosang eyed you up and down, taking in your drunken state, though, it wasn't the first time he'd seen you this way. you nearly tripped as you reached the table, struggling to walk in heels.

"i need a glass of water, do you have a glass of water? jongho needs a glass of water." you mumbled to yourself, reaching for the jug in the center of the table.

"are you okay?" yeosang asked, quickly pushing your hand away from the jug.

"i'm okay, but jongho needs water. can i take this cup? he's waiting for me, i told him not to go anywhere, i need to get back to jongho—" you tried to pick up a glass but yeosang pressed your hand back down once more.

"i'll take it to him, you stay here." he said, filling the cup full with water and heading towards the bathrooms.

your brain suddenly felt fuzzy and your eyes became blurry, it was like the alcohol hit your system all at once. your head spun round and round and you leaned forward, resting your hands on your head. you'd never felt this sick from drinking, maybe you'd had too much too quickly, maybe it was the spinning. there was no way to tell, all you knew was that you felt like you were about to fall from the top of a very high roller coaster.

your eyes felt increasingly heavy, you allowed them to slip shut, head falling to the table with a not so gentle thud.

"y/n?" someone shook you, "y/n wake up!" it was wooyoung.

"shit, is she okay? should we call an ambulance?" jongho said, reaching for his phone.

"is she breathing? has anyone checked?" seonghwa gently lifted your shoulders and sat you upright, relieved to see the rise and fall of your chest. "we should call a taxi and get her home."

"are you crazy? she's unconscious, she won't be able to get up the stairs to her apartment! what if the driver is dodgy? she's already had to deal with shitty men while working night shift, imagine if something happened while she's drunk!" yeosang blurted out. the boys were shocked over his sudden concern for you. yeosang had never once shown any interest or care for you in the presence of them.

"well, what should we do then?" mingi asked, worriedly running a hand through his hair.

"i'll take her, you've all been drinking." yeosang concluded. "she'll be fine, don't worry. enjoy the rest of your night, okay? i've dealt with woo passing out before remember?"

"that's true." san said, throwing a light hearted glare in wooyoung's direction, who showed a rather sheepish expression.

the boys went back to their drinks, taking it a little slower now and yeosang carried you to his car. it wasn't easy, but he managed to sit you upright in the back seat of his car with his rear view mirror aimed directly at you so he could make sure you were okay.

he was able to lift you up the stairs and get your house key from the pocket of your jacket, which would've looked questionable to anyone else, but he had the best intentions. he sat you down in a dining chair, watching as your head lolled forward and your body slumped. he quickly filled a glass of water and came back to you.

"y/n." he whispered, resting a hand on your shoulder. "y/n." he said again, louder this time.

the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, but you weren't waking up and that was becoming concerning. he shook your shoulder, as gently as he possible could in a moment like this, and to his relief, your eyes hesitantly opened.

your head felt like a bowling ball and you groaned quietly. "yeosang?"

"here." he said holding the cup to your lips, allowing you to take a small sip.

"how did we get here?" you mumbled, head rolling to the side.

he caught your head and carefully pushed you back upright, "i drove you, this is your apartment."

"oh." you said, eyes drooping shut again. "oh." you repeated.

"y/n, i really need you to stay awake right now." he said, bringing the cup to your mouth again. "lets talk."

"we never talk!" you exclaimed. "this is the longest conversation we've ever had!"

"i know." he said, pulling up a chair to sit directly in front of you. yeosang felt that slight tug at his heart again tonight, the way you sounded so excited just to talk with him.

"no, no, no." you whined, "this is so bad!"

"what is it?"

you pouted before nervously biting your lip, "i'm really sorry."

"for what?" he questioned, leaning back in his chair.

"for ruining your night and making you stay here with me! now you just have another reason to hate me." you sighed, letting your head fall into your hands.

"i could never hate you." he said, voice barely above a whisper.

but you had fallen back asleep, so yeosang sat you upright once more and monitored you closely all night. with every minute that passed, he wished more and more that it was easier for him to show his emotions, to you especially. he wondered if maybe he wasn't so closed off that things would be different between the two of you. but it was hard for him, to let people in, he was afraid. afraid of people judging the real him, afraid of what might happen if he lets himself become vulnerable, afraid of facing his feelings about you.

you awoke hours later with a raging headache and extreme nausea. you headed straight for the bathroom and hunched over the toilet, feeling the sickest you'd ever felt. yeosang waited patiently outside the bathroom door with a glass of water and painkillers.

when you came out, he held his hand out, "take this."

you looked down at his hand and then up at him, slightly confused, "what are you doing here?"

"you passed out last night, and i drove you home because everyone else had been drinking." he said, passing the glass of water.

"oh my god." you ran a hand through your hair, "yeosang, i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to be any trouble! you must of been here all night, i promise it won't happen again, that was so stupid of me—"

"it's fine, don't worry about it." he said, shrugging, "i'll get going now, but make sure you take it easy and drink enough water." his eyes carefully scanned your body one last time, making sure you were really okay. he headed for the door and you followed.

"i'm really sorry." you frowned, feeling as though no amount of apologies would make it up to him.

he let out a slight chuckle, "it's okay, seriously y/n." he said before leaving. you heard the all too familiar jingle of his keys as the door closed behind him.

he'd stayed with you all night, eyes watching over you closely. ready at your side whenever you stirred in your sleep. he'd been there in the morning prepared with water and painkillers. this was never how it was, usually this was your job, taking care of the boys. it was your way of showing you cared, helping out wherever possible.

this wasn't like yeosang. at all.

————————

as soon as yeosang got home he was greeted by a very concerned san and wooyoung.

"is she okay?"

"are you tired?"

"did she wake up?"

he was bombarded by questions.

"she's okay, she fell asleep after a while and i made her take some painkillers when she woke up." yeosang said, collapsing onto the couch.

"so you really don't hate her then." wooyoung thought aloud.

"he can't, he spent the whole night looking after her!" san said, hitting wooyoung like it was obvious.

"owww," wooyoung rubbed his arm, "even she thinks you don't like her!"

"i know, she said last night. but she probably won't remember saying that." yeosang said, feeling increasingly drowsy from his lack of sleep.

"maybe you guys should like, talk things out?" san suggested, taking a seat next to him.

"maybe." yeosang said, drifting off into sleep.

you had spent the day curled up in bed, wondering how you could make it up to yeosang, and there was nothing more you wanted than to get to know him better, but what would he want? you called up san on that thought.

"hey sannie," you said, "i need your help, actually, is woo there as well?"

"oh my god she's alive!" you heard wooyoung call from beside san.

"what do you need help with?" san asked.

you paused a moment, "is yeosang there?"

"well yes, but he's asleep."

you groaned, "i feel so bad that he stayed up all night looking after me. i really wanna make it up to him but i don't know how. plus, it's not like he's that fond of me. maybe i should just thank him by staying out of his space."

"i don't think he'd like that." wooyoung interjected. "i still think he just needs time before opening up to you."

"i think its just me." you sighed, worriedly chewing on your bottom lip.

"hey! don't be like that! there's no reason to not like you." san scolded you for down talking yourself as he always does.

"agreed." wooyoung said, chiming in.

"i'm sure i'll work something out. thanks guys! enjoy the rest of your day!" you said.

"good luck!"

"bye y/n!"

————————

you had been staring at your phone for at least an hour, typing and retyping the message to yeosang. wooyoung gave you his number so that you could contact him when you'd finally worked out how to make it up to him. in the end, you decided that you would let him decide.

you drew in a sharp breath and squeezed your eyes tightly shut as you pressed send.

you: hey yeosang, i still feel really bad about the other day, i wanna know how i can make it up to you !!

yeosang: did wooyoung give you my number? T~T

you: yes he did.. i hope thats okay !

yeosang: of course yeosang: how about you make it up to me over a cup of coffee? >.<

you: that sounds great !! you: when are you free ?

yeosang: does tomorrow morning work for you ? i can pick you up ^_^

you: of course ! i'll see you tomorrow :)

yeosang sat in his room, facepalming. why was it so easy to be more open over text?

you on the other hand, felt your heart swell in a bizarre way. maybe it was the way you hadn't expected him to use such cute little emoticons. maybe it was the way that you'd be able to have a full conversation with him. whatever it was, excitement had taken over you.

————————

a knock pounded at your door and you rushed to open it.

"ready to go?" he asked, leaning against the door frame coolly.

"yes, lets go!" you said, sounding a little too excited.

the two of you made your way down the stairs and into yeosang's car. you found yourself smiling as you looked out the window.

your excitement hadn't gone unnoticed, "you seem awfully excited."

"i really wanted to make it up to you," you beamed. "it must've been boring to watch over me all night."

"i didn't mind so much." he said, shrugging.

you frowned, "you shouldn't of done it."

"and leave you passed out in the club?" he quirked an eyebrow up at you.

"well..."

"exactly." he said, parking the car outside a small cafe nearby his apartment. "come on, lets go inside."

you followed him in and took a seat across from him at a table close to the window. you both ordered coffees and resumed conversation.

"so, where were we?" you smiled, taking a sip of coffee.

"talking about how you wanted me to leave you passed out in the club." he said. you were almost convinced you saw a teasing smile pulling at his lips.

"right. i'm so sorry about that."

this time he actually chuckled, and you were taken aback. it was like the wall yeosang had surrounding himself was crumbling before your eyes.

"you need to apologise less." he laughed, bringing his coffee cup to his mouth for a sip. "half of the time we talk its just you saying sorry to me."

"i'm so—"

"hey!" the two of you broke into laughter.

his laugh was loud but warm and you couldn't help but notice the way his nose scrunched up cutely, the way his eyes looked full of stars and the way he brushed his hair out of his eyes after, revealing his beautiful birthmark. from that point on, you wanted to be the one to make him laugh every day.

he felt that familiar tug at his heart, the one he'd been feeling every moment he spent alone with you. the one he felt when he first met you. the one he couldn't make any sense of. it was as though his heart was a violin and you were the one playing it. (which would explain the tugging feeling.) but you were playing the sweetest song and he never wanted it to end.

the two of you laughed the morning away, gradually making up for what you'd missed over two years in a matter of two hours.

you'd discovered that even after getting him to open up more, he wasn't one for words. you found yourself talking his ear off while he listened intently, occasionally sharing his opinions and stories. in all his honesty, he didn't mind listening to you talk. he could've sat there all day, drinking countless cups of coffee, watching the way you bit your bottom lip whenever you paused to think or the way your eyes filled with sparkles when you talked about something that made you happy.

you insisted on paying for the infinite cups of coffee, as it was your way of making it up to him. he reluctantly agreed, but promised that he would pay if there ever was a next time, which he secretly hoped there would be. he'd finally had the chance to let his walls down. (it was actually more like you'd climbed the walls and torn them down with your bare hands.) but he was thankful for it.

he drove you back to your apartment, even after you persisted on walking home, seeing as it wasn't that far. he refused, insisting that he drive you. he even followed you up the stairs to the door of your apartment.

you turned around to face him, "you know, you're not so bad when you actually wanna talk to me."

"you know, you're not so bad when you're not drunk." he countered, his lips breaking into a playful grin.

you glared jokingly, "hey! don't make me apologise again."

"okay, okay. i won't." he said, raising his hands in defence.

you smiled, resting against the door, "alright, well, i've really enjoyed hanging out with you today. maybe we should catch up more often."

"maybe we should." he said, bearing a coy smile, "bye, y/n. i'll see you around."

————————

it was only about a week later he showed up at your work, at the end of your shift. you were pleasantly surprised to see him, and at first thought he was just someone coming to book a room.

"hello, are you looking for a r— yeosang?"

"when do you get off work?" he asked, glancing over to the clock.

"five minutes."

"i'll be waiting in the car, okay?" he said, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

on his way out, you saw as he ran into your boss, the two of them beginning conversation.

"it's good to see you've made those security changes." yeosang said as he nodded, extending his arm for a friendly handshake. "i'm very thankful."

your boss shook his hand, "and i'm thankful that you suggested them."

just over five minutes later you got into the passenger seat of yeosang's car.

"it was you who told my boss about the safety problems." you said, in near disbelief.

"hello, to you too." he joked sarcastically. "well, i would hate to think that the situation could happen again, so i just suggested some possible improvements. thats all." he shrugged like it was nothing.

"suddenly, i feel the need to make it up to you again." you smiled shyly.

"you can do that by accompanying me to the skate park." he said, motioning to his skateboard on the back seat.

"ah, so thats why you came."

"well yeah, i wanted to bring you to the skate park."

your heart swelled once again, feeling joyed that he wanted to share one of his favourite places with you. (despite him never telling you directly, you knew he loved the skate park as he spent majority of his high school time there when he wasn't studying.)

when you arrived, the sun was beginning to slip behind the horizon, causing the sky to glow a rosy pink. there were still a few kids, probably high schoolers, hanging around the park. you took a seat at a bench and waited for yeosang to come over, who was getting his skateboard out the car. you felt oddly out of place since you were still in your neat work uniform and didn't know the first thing about skateboarding.

yeosang rolled over with a grin plastered onto his face, you'd never seen him so happy, and it made you happy to see him this way. it was strange how all it took was a few cups of coffee for him to become a completely different person around you.

he didn't need to ask you to watch as your eyes were already glued to him as he dropped into the bowl, showing countless tricks and flips.

the truth was in fact that yeosang was grateful for you 'making it up to him'. he'd never been able to comprehend his feelings for you, if they were even feelings at all. he hated the confusion and decided it was easier to ignore it, and to an extent, ignore you, to make it go away. it had been working for the most part, until every time the two of you were alone together, he couldn't ignore the slight tug at his heart, that was becoming more of a pull over the last few weeks.

"you're amazing!" you cheered as he sat down next to you, out of breath.

"thanks." he smiled shyly, running a hand through his hair and out of his face. he leaned back, looking up at the sky. "do you sometimes wish you could see the stars from within the city? hongjoong and seonghwa are so lucky they can see them from their house."

you pondered a moment, thinking about the last time you actually saw stars in the sky. "i see stars in your eyes sometimes." you said, absent minded.

he felt warmth burning in his cheeks, "you do?"

"do what?" you turned to him, "did i say that out loud?" you gasped, covering your face in embarrassment. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to say that it was just a thought and—"

"what did i say about apologising?" he laughed. "it's getting cold, right? you ready to head home?" he asked.

you smiled, "if you are."

he drove you home and said goodbye, feeling happy about spending time alone with you once again. he couldn't stop thinking about what you said and you couldn't stop feeling like a fool for saying it.

————————

the weather got colder and colder and soon it began to snow as the days of december passed. you had spent the day helping jongho move some new furniture into his apartment. it was a difficult job, but easier with the two of you, even san and wooyoung came to help. you couldn't resist wondering where yeosang was and why he didn't come, seeing as they lived in the same building. maybe he was busy, you thought.

"hey, where's yeosang?" you asked, lifting a box and placing it on the kitchen counter.

"at home, i think he's been feeling sick or something, he hardly comes out of his room lately." wooyoung shrugged, assuming it was all good.

"if he's sick i'll bring him over some food and painkillers, maybe keep him some company." you explained, not wanting yeosang to be unwell.

"i think he'd rather be left alone, to be honest." san said, giving wooyoung a side glance that you couldn't miss.

you pulled out your phone and sent yeosang a quick message.

you: are you feeling okay? san and woo said you were sick :((

he didn't respond right away and you just figured he was asleep. but as you finished helping out at jongho's house a few hours later, he still hadn't responded. when you were sitting down to eat dinner at home, he still hadn't respond. just before you were going to turn the lights out and go to bed, he still hadn't responded.

something was up. this wasn't like yeosang, not anymore. not since the two of you had been spending so much time together. maybe it was like the boys said, and he was truly very sick, but in that case, why wouldn't they let you help?

————————

days passed and you went to work as usual, repeating the same few lines, asking people if they want a room, asking them to fill in a form, then directing them to the right room. days passed and you still hadn't heard back from yeosang, you wondered if he was still sick. days passed and you began to think maybe you should go over there to see if he's okay.

but if there was one thing you'd learnt about yeosang recently, it was that he was the quieter type, and probably wouldn't appreciate you going over there to keep him company and would rather be alone. so that evening when you got off work, you didn't go visit him like you so desperately wanted to, instead, you went straight home.

you cooked and ate dinner for yourself, before picking up your phone, only to see still no messages from yeosang.

you: hey woo you: is yeosang feeling better ?

wooyoung: yeah he is

you: well then can i come visit tomorrow ?

wooyoung: i think he's busy wooyoung: sorry

you: its okay woo you: its not your fault !!

you switched your phone off and headed for the shower, trying to wash away the stress and worry for yeosang that had built up over the last few weeks. you had really grown to like him and there was still so much about him you wanted to learn, like when he learned to skateboard or how he got the small scar on the back of his hand, that you'd noticed when ever he brushes his hair out of his eyes.

two years he'd spent, not interested in holding conversation with you and two years you'd spent, wondering what you'd did so wrong. but lately, you felt like you were doing something right around him, getting him to smile and laugh, share his own stories.

you couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he still didn't like you, and had just been trying for wooyoung's sake.

or maybe he was genuinely starting to like you, but you went and fucked it up by weirding him out and telling him about his starry eyes.

or maybe he'd just had enough of you already. decided that a few weeks was enough time spent trying to change things between the two of you.

as you finished showering and changed into comfortable clothes, you glanced at the clock which read 10:56pm. you switched on the television to watch some youtube before going to bed. as you felt yourself dozing off, a faint knock sounded at your door, so quiet you almost missed it.

when you opened the door, you were shocked to see yeosang standing there, leaning against the door frame for support. he looked up at you, his normally starry eyes were dulled with tears.

you rushed forward to him, smelling the alcohol as you got closer, "yeosang are you okay? what are you doing here? i thought you were sick. are you drunk? you never drink, come inside." you gently pulled him inside, closing the door behind you. when you turned to face him, he was staring at you, tears about to spill over the brim of his eyes.

"i hate you." he breathed out, voice barely louder than a whisper. he didn't seem angry though, he looked fragile, like a glass vase balancing on the edge of a table.

you felt the urge to cry, finally hearing those three words that confirmed your biggest concern, yeosang disliking you. "yeosang, i'm so sorry. i never meant to—"

"i hate you." he said, louder this time before running a hand through his hair hastily. he let out a frustrated groan, dragging his hands down his face. "i hate the tugging feeling in my heart whenever we're alone. i hate the way you put yourself before others. i hate the way you ramble on when you're nervous. i hate the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh. i hate the way i don't drink around you because i feel the need to protect you and make sure you're safe. i hate the way i tried to ignore you for two years because i was scared and confused about my own feelings. i hate how it only took one cup of coffee with you for my walls to come crashing down!" he paced from side to side, waving his hands around crazily.

yeosang looked scared and lost, like he'd never felt this way about anyone before, and that was the truth. he didn't know how to comprehend these feelings and it terrified him.

you watched as he spiralled, seeming as though it would never stop. you weren't sure what to do, so you just listened to that swelling feeling in your heart once again, the one that had led you to develop feelings for yeosang, and you pulled him close into your arms. he clung onto you tightly, scared to let go, like if he did then he'd lose you forever. you ran your fingers through his hair briefly, trying your best to comfort him.

"i'm sorry." you repeatedly whispered to him. you'd never meant to upset him or confuse him.

yeosang let out a quiet sob into your chest, "i hate the way i've fallen in love with you." he croaked out.

he didn't hate you. never did. never will. your heart swelled completely in your chest, feeling as though it would burst through. but it couldn't be true. he's totally drunk out of his mind.

"you're not in your right mind, yeosang, you need to get home. you're drunk and talking nonsense." you embraced him tightly one more time, and you could've sworn you felt the beat of his heart through the hug. "come on," you urged, steering him towards the door, "wooyoung and san are probably worried and waiting up for you."

with much effort, you led him down the stairs of your apartment block and walked him home. the street lamps led you in the freezing city night air. you held his wrist lightly, guiding him up the stairs to his own apartment. he didn't speak a single word the whole time, instead, sniffling and wiping at his eyes. it hurt you so much to see him this broken, but you knew he wasn't saying the truth under control of the alcohol in his veins.

you knocked at his apartment door, hoping that one of the boys were still awake. luckily, they both were and quickly they flung the door open.

"y/n? yeosang?" san questioned, his eyes wide open with disbelief.

"we've been so worried about you!" wooyoung said, pulling yeosang away from you. "hang on, are you drunk?"

san had noticed his tired, tear stained eyes, "you look like you've been crying! are you okay?"

you let out a quiet sigh, knowing you didn't need to be here anymore. you gave a small wave goodbye and headed home, utterly exhausted.

and though you were so drained, you couldn't seem to fall asleep. those words yeosang said to you kept running through your mind busily.

did he mean any of it?

————————

yeosang felt bad. he felt terrible. like he wanted to vanish into thin air and float away with the breeze. though he couldn't, no, he desperately wanted to apologise to you. but he didn't know how, he wasn't good with words or expressing his feelings, and you wished he knew that was something you loved about him.

wooyoung and san tried to ask him what happened the night he drunkenly confessed to you, but he couldn't have them know that he'd been harbouring feelings for you for all this time, they'd never let him live it down. he could imagine the continuous teasing they'd give him, nudging him whenever you were together or giving him side glances after talking to you.

yeosang gave it lots of thought. he mulled it over in his head repeatedly. it was only after hours spent hidden away in his room that he decided to go back to where it all started, a text. a text that said how much he wanted to make it up to you for having to deal with him drunk, just like the one you'd sent initially.

yeosang: hey y/n, i feel really bad about the other day, i wanna know how i can make it up to you! T^T

your heart leapt a mile seeing his name appear on your phone. you grinned upon reading his message, realising it was scarily similar to the message you had first sent him.

you: hmmm you: that sounds familiar

yeosang: >.< yeosang: seriously though, how does dinner at my place tomorrow night sound? i'll cook

you: you can cook?

yeosang: there's a lot you don't know about me x_x

you: okay, i'll be there !!

————————

yeosang wasn't lying when he said he can cook. as you traipsed up the stairs of his apartment block you could smell something delicious laced in the air.

the usual swelling in your heart had instead fell to the pit of your stomach, you were feeling slightly nervous as to what would happen when you entered yeosang's apartment. you inhaled deeply before knocking at the door of his apartment.

"hey y/n, come in." yeosang greeted, holding an arm out, signalling for you to come inside.

"you must've been working hard cooking! it smells delicious." you said, feeling a sense of comfort just from the smell of food.

"yeah, lucky i sent wooyoung and san over to jongho's place, otherwise i doubt there would be any pasta to serve." he joked. "you can take a seat, i've just gotta serve up."

you sat down in front of a neatly laid table, it had somewhat surprised you how much effort yeosang had put into this dinner tonight. he placed a steamy hot plate of pasta in front of you and one where he would sit.

"so." he began.

"so." you copied, teasingly.

"i guess, i really just wanted to say i'm sorry for how i behaved the other night when i was drunk. you shouldn't of had to deal with that." he frowned, poking at his dinner.

you furrowed your brows, "it's seriously fine yeosang." you took a bite of pasta, "i was just surprised to see you drunk, since you never drink."

he chuckled, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, "actually, i do. i just never drink when you're there."

"really? why?" you questioned, eating another mouthful of pasta.

"because..." he paused. "no, it sounds dumb out loud."

"it's okay, you don't have to explain yourself." you smiled warmly, "but that does remind me to ask... do you remember anything you said to me while you were drunk?" you leant forward, genuinely curious.

he sighed, "i remember.. enough."

"you don't really hate me, right?" you asked, playing with the food on your plate.

"of course not! that's why i invited you here tonight. to show you that i don't, and to make it up to you." he had to refrain from reaching across to hold your hand, just to show how much he cared that little bit more.

you nodded, "well, thats good. i was kinda worried that we'd gone back to square one."

comfort settled within you. it was relieving to know you weren't hated by the one person whose love you wanted most. a tiny thought crept into your mind, maybe, just maybe, now would be the right time to tell him about your blossoming feelings for him. or would that confuse him more? now you were the one feeling conflicted.

"are you finished eating?" he asked, reaching for your empty plate.

"yes, thank you! it was delicious. you're a good cook, y'know."

"ah, thanks y/n." he turned away to hide the blush appearing on his cheeks.

"would you like me to do the dishes? since you cooked." you offered, standing up. but he quickly opposed.

"don't be ridiculous." he shooed you back to your seat. "can i get you a coffee? water? wine?"

"a coffee sounds good, i think you and i have had too many drunken situations lately." you laughed.

yeosang pulled out two mugs and put the kettle on. he felt your eyes carefully watching him. once again, he hated the feeling that was pulling at his heart. the way you could say nothing, yet he felt everything.

"can i tell you something?" you asked, voice now quieter and more hesitant.

"sure, what is it?" he said, placing a warm cup of coffee in front of you.

you took a sip, humming in delight. it was exactly the way you liked it. when the two of you went out for coffee, he had unintentionally remembered just the way you like it.

"well," you began cautiously, in case you brought this situation into flames again. "i just... i always wondered why you didn't like me. if i was doing something wrong, if i said something once that really upset you. and then after we started spending time together, i finally felt like i was doing the right thing." you groaned, frustrated with yourself for not getting to the point quicker. "what i'm trying to say is that i have feelings for you. it's okay if you don't feel the same way. i wouldn't expect you to, i just thought you should know—"

yeosang basically choked on his coffee, eyes widening in shock. "it's okay, y/n! in case you hadn't noticed, i'm crazy about you."

you had continued to ramble nervously before hearing what he said.

"wait. you are?"

"basically ever since you said that thing about stars in my eyes, yes."

you cringed, remembering how you had said that so absent minded. "yeah, sorry about that."

"it's okay, it was cute. and what did i say about apologising?"

you shook your head and smiled, "i know."

————————

ever since the two of you confessed to each other, you had been almost inseparable, except of course when you had work. but he dropped you home most nights, even though you insisted it was okay and that you could walk. he came over every weekend just to spend time with you, even if the two of you just sat and talked, enjoying each other's company. you'd been dating for a few weeks now, but kept it undercover, not wanting to suffer the incessant questioning that would come if you told your friends.

it didn't go unnoticed either, wooyoung and san were constantly nagging yeosang about why the two of you spent so much time together, and each time he just shrugged it off.

christmas was just around the corner, so you were spending the evening at seonghwa's and hongjoong's house, who of course, were throwing an unnecessarily large house party to celebrate.

you were sat between a very drunk yunho and mingi, who were trying to talk to an also very drunk jongho. you eyed your boyfriend from across the room, as if asking for a way out and he just laughed at the situation you were stuck in.

after at least ten minutes more of having your ear talked off, yeosang came to pull you away to the dance floor.

"care to dance?" he asked, extending his hand to you.

you immediately jumped up, latching onto his hand, "i would love to!"

he chuckled, pulling you close to his side and leading you to the makeshift dance floor that seonghwa and hongjoong created.

the two of you laughed at the boys' reaction. they were completely shocked to see the two of you so close together and yeosang being friendly.

he twirled you around a few times with the music, before settling his arms around your waist. he brought you near to him as you placed your arms behind his neck. you swayed back and forth, engulfed in your own little bubble of comfort in each other's arms, completely out of time with the loud thumping music that blared around you.

you felt content, and yeosang no longer felt confused. he found his home in your arms and his happiness.

you reached up to place your lips on his, capturing the moment surrounding you. yeosang melted into the kiss, discovering that your lips were soft and sweet against his, just as he had imagined, which caused his knees to feel weak and his heart to skip more than just one beat. he never wanted to let you go, he wanted to compensate for every second that he didn't spend with you since the two of you met.

he leaned forward and whispered softly, just so you could hear above all the music and singing, "lets stay like this forever."

[vampiregirl1797]

The Starlight Stone

GIF not mine.

Rhysand x Reader

Word Count: 4,898

Summary: Y/N comes from a different reality, where the characters and world she’s now living in, exist in a series of books. Rhysand takes her in, and she learns how to do something she’s never managed before… live.

Warnings: Can’t think of any? If I’ve missed anything, let me know.

Masterlist Here :)

Falling in love with new characters was as easy as breathing for me. In fact it was so easy, that before I realised it, I was only falling for them. Reading became an escape for me, a teenage girl without a shred of self-confidence, used to being the overlooked one in a group of friends, used to not attracting any kind of male attention. It was perfect, because the men I fell in love with always loved me back, never hurt me with the crushing pain of rejection, never thought I wasn’t pretty enough, or skinny enough. They loved me for me.  

I just never imagined I’d wake up in one of the fictional world’s I’d read about, and come face to face with the High Lord I’d most recently falling for. I’d arrived several months ago, and of course hadn’t been able to keep a thing from the High Lord of the Night Court who’d found me trespassing on his lands. He’d gone into my head, not too far, but far enough to assess whether I was a threat to him or his people. He discovered pretty quickly that I had absolutely no skill set to be a threat, and that I absolutely was not from his world.  

He’d found the concept of Prynthian being presented in a series of books both interesting and amusing, as well as him and his friends existing as characters within the novels. I was just glad he hadn’t gone far enough to find how invested I got in each of the books I read, and those who existed within them, him being one of those people. It would have been mortifying and I had wondered on more than one occasion what his reaction would be. But coming face to face with a man who had been fictional to me, and then become real overnight… it had thrown me into my insecurities. Into taking my feelings for the High Lord and shoving them down as far as I could.  

‘Y/N?’ I was snapped out of my thoughts by Cassian popping his head into my room. Rhys had offered me a room at his town house when I first got here, and I’d never left. He’d offered the money to buy my own place, but I hadn’t been comfortable with the idea of that at the time, and now I had a place on his court, along with a wage of my own, but this had become my home.  

‘Hey Cass, what’s up?’ I smiled, patting the empty space beside me on the enormous bed; in my world I’d never had bigger than a single, and this was about three singles put together.  

‘Not much, I was gonna go into town for a little while, do you want to come with?’ His hazel eyes studied me with warmth and kindness, which was probably what had made me comfortable around him so quickly. He’d never looked at me with the disinterest I was used to being on the receiving end of from men; he saw me as a person and I appreciated him for it.

‘Sure. Anything in particular you’re after?’ I wondered letting my hair down from the messy bun I’d pulled it up onto when I’d come to relax in my room.  

He shrugged, trying and failing to be nonchalant, ‘not really. Just felt like getting out.’

I sighed, shuffling to the edge of the bed to slip on my boots, ‘Rhys sent you to check up on me didn’t he? Let me guess, he thinks I’m becoming a depressed recluse?’  

Cass gave me a look that was a mixture of concern and exasperation, ‘Rhys worries about you because you never leave the house. He doesn’t think you’re depressed, but he worries you’re not living either. You lose yourself in books, and you barely speak to anyone, even me.’  

I turned away, pretending to busy myself with lacing up my shoes to hide the tear that slid down my cheek. Rhys was more observant than I gave him credit for. The truth was, since I’d gotten here, I’d basically been living the same as I had before; reading, sleeping, eating and more reading. I ate meals with everyone sometimes, but more often than not, I allowed the new fictional worlds offered to me here to consume me. I’d never been called out on it before. No one had ever cared enough to notice that I wasn’t just reading because I loved it, I was reading to escape the life I didn’t know how to live.  

‘I-I’ I stuttered, forcing myself to stop and take a breath.

‘Hey,’ Cassian’s voice softened and he shuffled beside me on the bed to sling a muscular arm over my shoulder. My head went to his chest, not even trying to hold back my tears anymore, it seemed pointless when he could probably scent them anyway, ‘I didn’t say this to upset you, just to let you know that you’re family to us now, Y/N, and we care about you. We want you to live and enjoy life, not to fall solely in love with fictional places.’  

‘This place was just a fictional place to me once.’ I murmured quietly.

‘And now you get to be here, and still choose to read yourself to death.’ He teased, chuckling softly.  

I smiled, wiping away the moisture from my cheeks, because he was right. Rhys was right. I had been blessed with the opportunity to live in a reality I’d once yearned for with all my heart, and I’d been wasting it. Why? Because I was afraid to face the feelings I had for a certain High Lord, feelings that had only blossomed since coming here, despite my best efforts to avoid him. I’d been throwing myself into reading because I wanted to live in the fantasy that he would return my feelings for a little longer. But that had to stop. I wasn’t immortal here—at least I didn’t think so, I didn’t have Fae characteristics and I didn’t have any powers—and it was time to stop squandering my life being a scaredy cat.  

‘You’re right. Rhys is right.’ I moved away from Cassian’s chest, wiping all evidence of my tears away, ‘lets go into Velaris. I’ve always wanted to stroll through the City and take everything in. It looks so beautiful from up here.’  

Cassian grinned, and allowed me to pull him from the bed, and just like that we left the town house and were swallowed by the life of Velaris.  

Six Months Later

‘I don’t think so.’ I shook my head, levelling the Shadowsinger with a no-nonsense glare, ‘it’s the Winter Solstice, which is the first one I’m spending here, it’s basically Christmas, and it’s a family holiday. You’re not flying off to wherever the heck you’re planning to go, with only your shadows for company.’  

His hazel eyes were blank but he visibly stiffened. I sighed, realising that telling Azriel what he could and couldn’t do was not my place, and it definitely wasn’t the best approach.  

‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to act like I’m your keeper or anything.’ I stood from the couch where I’d been sitting, to move to where he stood in front of the fire. I placed a hand on his shoulder, and relaxed a little when he didn’t shrug me off, ‘it’s just… this means something to me. Back in my old reality, we had Christmas, which was something similar. We’d all gather, exchange presents, decorate a tree, hang decorations… but what made it special to me was the time spent with the people I loved. With the people I considered family. You’re my family now, Azriel. You, Cass, Ameren, Mor… and Rhys. Obviously it’s your choice, but if you could afford to, please don’t leave until after the holiday.’  

I thought his eyes had softened at my words, but honestly it was hard to tell with the Shadowsinger. I left him alone to think over my words, kissing his cheek as I made my way outside; I still had some things left to buy for everyone. I’d gone a little overboard, but I couldn’t help it. I’d pretty much finished Mor and Ameren, I had a few last things to pick up for Cassian and Azriel, and the majority I’d left to buy were for Rhys. I already knew what I was going to get him, and most were already purchased and wrapped at each store, I’d just waited until now to get them, because while Rhys was trusted with everyone else’s presents… well giving him his own gifts just didn’t seem right. It might just have been me, but I felt like it took away the surprise, at least a little bit.  

I smiled as I walked through the city, nodding in greeting to a few friendly people. Since that talk Cassian had with me six months ago, I’d started venturing out of the townhouse more and more. I still read, but it was for the fun of it now, rather than the escape from reality. I’d fallen in love with Velaris. The city was beautiful, and teeming with life and acceptance and peace… seeing it first hand really made me appreciate the efforts Rhys and everyone had gone through to protect this place, to make it a home.  

‘Hey girl!’ Ameren’s voice had me looking to my right, to see her running across the cobblestone street to catch up to me, ‘you wouldn’t be out to purchase my Winter Solstice presents now would you?’ she grinned, her silver eyes sparkling with more life than usual.

I playfully rolled my eyes, ‘even if I was, I wouldn’t tell you. Your otherworld intimidation doesn’t work on me, Ren.’  

She huffed, but I could see the amusement swirling in her silver irises, ‘fine. It amazes me sometimes though,’ she mused, going on to explain, ‘Cassian cracked like an egg in two seconds, told me what he’d got me straight away. But you’re immune to what makes me scary to people around here.’  

I chuckled, being able to picture Cassian folding perfectly, ‘I wouldn’t say I’m the only one. And Cassian doesn’t prove anything, he’s like a big kid with this stuff. I’ve had to actually shush him to keep him from telling me about my presents, I think the excitement just gets to him. Now if you told me you’d broken Azriel, I’d be impressed.’  

She huffed a laugh and tilted her head in acknowledgement of my words, ‘yeah, you might be right. He didn’t only tell me what he’d gotten me, he told me about everyone else’s too.’  

I rolled my eyes affectionately, ‘that boy.’  

‘Indeed.’ She shook her head, but when she met my eyes again the wicked glint in them made me brace myself slightly, ‘so what are you getting our High Lord?’  

‘I’m on my way to pick up Rhys’ presents now. You can come with me if you want, so long as you don’t spoil anything.’ I gave her a pointed look and grinned at her offended look.  

‘I’m not the gossip Cassian is, thank you very much, girl,’ she waved her hand dismissively, ‘anyway, I was just wondering if you were finally going to gift him with the truth.’

‘Who?’ I frowned, pulling open the door to the blacksmith’s—I’d requested a few specific weapons for Azriel, Cassian and Rhys, each custom made and fit to them specifically, ‘what truth?’

She opened her mouth to reply, but was had to wait until the blacksmith had handed over the three weapons he’d perfectly made for me. Azriel and Cassian had plenty of swords and knives and daggers, but their abundance in bows and arrows was clear. I’d seen them practice with the same one, and I doubted they had any specific for battle, which seemed a waste when they could both fly. So I’d asked the blacksmith to create some custom for them, and both now had their own bow, plenty of arrows and a quiver. Their names were engraved inside the buttery leather of their quivers, and each were made to be lightweight and able to be worn whilst flying without losing any arrows.

For Rhys I’d asked for a pair of daggers to be crafted. I’d seen him with a couple of swords, and I was sure he already had daggers too, but picking this particular weapon had just felt right, even if I knew it was likely he possessed some already. Each was pure silver, one held an amethyst stone at the hilt, while the other held an onyx stone. One for his eyes, the other for his court.  

It was when we exited the shop that Ameren decided to resume her train of thought that I’d almost forgotten about, ‘the truth that you are in love with Rhys.’

It took a lot of effort not to stumble from shock, ‘what?’

‘Don’t play dumb. It’s obvious. Has been for months,’ she smirked, ‘we have bets on when you’re going to tell him. I have over the Solstice, so if you could do a girl a favour and tell him already, the winnings will be mine.’

‘Not to put a damper on your betting habits,’ I pulled her hand towards another shop I needed to go into, ‘but I’ve not got any “truth” to reveal to Rhys.’  

She swore under her breath, ‘I knew I should have had spring, but there’s me being the optimist thinking you would have grown some balls and realised what we’ve all already seen by now.’

I frowned, ‘what the hell are you talking about Ameren?’

‘Rhys loves you just as much as you love him. Actually knowing him, he probably loves you even more, but he’s as much of a coward as you.’ She rolled her eyes, tucking her onyx hair behind her ear as I accepted another bag full of pre-wrapped presents for Rhys.

‘You can’t be serious.’ I didn’t know what else to say… the idea of him feeling a fraction of the love I had for him made my heart pound in my chest. I couldn’t fathom it.

‘Honestly, you’re both blind.’ She shook her head, but let the subject drop, and I was glad. Talking any more might have launched me into a full-blown panic attack.

I’d admitted to myself that fallen in love with the High Lord three months ago—for a long time I’d fought it, convincing myself I was just in love with the fictional version of him. But that theory had gone down the toilet when he’d laughed—really laughed—at a joke Cassian made, and I’d been powerless to stop myself from being overwhelmed with happiness at his happiness. It was then I accepted I was an idiot in love with a man I’d never have. But Ameren saying he did feel the same, well it made me panic because I’d never considered it a possibility before—I’d never had a man interested in me before, and the idea of it, the unfamiliarity, made me panic. So I forced it down and made myself focus on collecting the rest of my gifts.  

//

The morning of Winter Solstice saw me rising bright and early, eager as a kid on Christmas morning. I realised that we wouldn’t be exchanging presents until the evening, after we’d all eaten, but I couldn’t tamper my excitement. So after I’d showered and dressed in leggings and a white woolly jumper, I headed to the living room to put the finishing touches on the decorations. Everything was basically done, but Rhys had found an eight-foot pine tree; I’d been telling him about the traditions of Christmas in my old reality, and he’d surprised me yesterday with a real tree. I’d hugged him tightly for it, unable to hold back my tears of gratitude at his thoughtfulness, and declared we’d have to decorate it tomorrow, after it had time to settle in the room overnight. A part of me wondered if he’d remember, but my doubt floated away upon the sight of him standing in the living room, observing the tree like he was sizing up an opponent on the battlefield. The thought made me chuckle, and he looked up to me with a smile.  

‘Good morning.’ I murmured, coming over to join him, ‘is there a reason you seem to be sizing up this poor, defenceless tree?’  

He grinned, his violet eyes sparkling with mirth, ‘well, other than the fact that it’s bigger than me and has an unfair advantage size-wise,’ I missed his soft smile as I laughed again, ‘I was simply wondering exactly how we’re going to decorate it.’

I softened with understanding, ‘well, lucky for you, I’m ridiculously prepared.’ I moved to pull out the box I’d stored behind the tree last night, after retrieving it from one of the shops in the art district. Magic was such a blessing here, and after I’d explained what I’d needed, and demonstrated with some awful drawings, they’d had everything made within a few hours. I pulled a few ornaments out, marvelling at the craftsmen’s ship for a moment before hanging them on the tree; there was a mixture of circular shapes and stars, in amethyst, silver, blue and black. They’d also crafted a silver star to go on top of the tree, fashioned after the star that always shone the brightest in the night sky of Velaris on the first night of Winter Solstice. It was so well made, I’d been struck speechless by how realistic it looked; as if they had plucked the star straight from the sky.  

I nudged the box closer to Rhys with my foot, ‘just hang them however you want, like this.’ I gestured to the few I’d put on and smiled when he reached in and immediately followed instructions.  

‘You know, if I used my magic I could have this done in under a minute.’ He commented, looking at me from the corner of his eye as if he knew my reaction before I voiced it.

‘Absolutely not! Decorating by hand is part of the fun, and the tradition.’ I protested, flicking his shoulder when I noticed his smirk, ‘if you use a flicker of magic, then there will be no presents for you.’

I frowned at the look of surprise in his eyes and he must have noticed my confusion because he said, his voice soft, ‘I didn’t think you’d gotten me anything. I didn’t mind, of course, I’m just surprised.’  

‘Why would you think that?’ I turned to face him fully, ignoring the task of decorating for the moment.

‘Because you didn’t give them to me to hide.’ He shrugged, carefully placing another ornament onto the tree, ‘and I never expect gifts, from anyone regardless. I went a long time being consumed by disappointment after my mother and sister died, because my father never cared for the holiday before. But after their deaths, it bore a reminder of another year of them being gone. Then he and I enacted our revenge, and it was a while before Morrigan, Cassian and I were able to spend the Solstice together.’  

I pulled him into a hug, winding my arms around his neck and not flinching at the appearance of his wings. They didn’t often appear without purpose unless he was feeling a strong emotion, but I didn’t question it when they cocooned us, his warmth radiating all around me.  

‘I didn’t give you any to hide because I felt like it took away from the surprise of the holiday if I was asking you to keep your own presents.’ I murmured into his neck, missing the small shiver that passed through him, ‘I’m sorry, that you had to spend so many Solstice’s alone, Rhys. But you have a family now, one that would sooner die than leave you.’

He held me a little tighter, and I returned the gesture, burrowing further into his neck and wondering if I was imagining the increased heartbeat I could feel against my chest, or if I were perhaps mistaking it for my own.

//

I smiled from my seat in the armchair, enjoying the warmth emanating from the fire, and from the mug of hot chocolate I held in my hands. We had just had Winter Solstice dinner, and were taking it in turns to open our presents.  

Ameren had gone first, and was grinning so wide it was almost scary at all of the jewels everyone had bought for her. Cassian had mostly been gifted weapons from everyone but Mor and me—she’d given him a sweater in the brightest green I’d ever seen, and I’d also gifted him some of his favourite liquor, a box of chocolates that Rhys had mentioned his mother got the General every year for solstice, some new books on war strategy, a new set of Illyrian leathers, and the bow and arrows I’d gotten him.

Azriel had also gained an abundance of weapons, along with a startlingly bright pair of purple socks from Mor, and some of his favourite liquor, a series of books on adventure and war I had a feeling he would enjoy, and a new set of Illyrian leathers and his new bow and arrows, from me. Mor had been given high quality clothing from everyone, and some of her favourite chocolates, wine, bath foams and salts from me. Rhys had been given a set of old leather bound books from Ameren, a Hawaiian themed shirt from Mor—mother knew where she found that—, what looked like a six-pack of beer from Cassian that had Rhys shaking his head with a reluctant smile, and a new set of Illyrian leathers from Azriel. I’d given him his new set of daggers, some of the chocolates Cassian had mentioned his mother and sister gifted him every Solstice, a painting that captured the beauty of Velaris perfectly, and something else I hadn’t yet presented to him.  

I’d actually left the other gift in his room, on his pillow; it was a pendant that had caught my eye when I was buying Ameren’s Solstice gifts. The shop attendant had noticed my stare and pulled it out from beneath the glass—it wasn’t overly huge; about the size of a bottle cap. It was antique silver, with a stone at the centre that was so beautiful I’d been unable to look away from it. It reminded me of the night sky, to put it plainly. It was so blue I thought it was sapphire, but the flashes of pure light that I saw when I turned it reminded me of shooting stars. The attendant had explained it was a pendant often presented to a perspective partner as a way of showing your intentions—as a way of showing your love for them. It was often the step before the mating bond sparked, to acknowledge what you already felt for them. She mentioned that it was an out dated tradition, and many only bought the Starlight stone now purely because it was beautiful.  

I didn’t know what possessed me to buy it. Maybe it was the possibility that he wouldn’t even know what it meant, maybe it was because a part of me wanted to tell him, and this was the only way I could muster the courage to do it. Either way, I’d left the small wrapped present on his black silk pillow before I’d joined the party tonight. And I’d had knots in my stomach about it since. A part of me wanted to excuse myself and take it back, but I forced that anxious part of my brain to shut up, because as much as it terrified me… I had to tell Rhys how I felt somehow, even if it meant that he didn’t feel the same way.

//

After the events of the evening, I decided to have a bath before I went to bed; Cassian and Azriel had passed out in the living room, one on the floor, the other on the sofa, but both were snoring loudly. Mor had made it to her room on the first floor, and Ameren had returned to her apartment. Rhys had said something about flying over the city before he turned in, and I was too awake with nerves to just slip straight into bed. So I ran some warm water into the gigantic tub that looked as if it would overflow onto the mountain below, and added some of my favourite bath foams that scented of lavender and honey—a gift from Az. I forced myself to breathe and just not think, and when my eyes started to droop I climbed out of the cooling water to dry off. I changed into the new silk gown Mor had gifted me for Solstice, and entered my bedroom only to stop short.  

My heart stopped at the sight of Rhys sitting on the edge of my bed… and then picked up triple speed. He was wearing loose pyjama pants, and no shirt… and he was holding the gift box I’d left on his pillow. The lid was missing and he was staring at the pendant inside. I took a deep breath and crossed my arms over my chest to hide how my hands shook.

‘Hey.’ I bit my lip, unsure about what to do. Should I sit next to him? Stay standing in front of the fire about three feet away from him? Ask him if he liked the gift? Ask him if he knew what it meant?  

His violet eyes lifted to meet mine, and I felt a wave of uncertainty wash over me at the guarded look in them, ‘do you know what this stone means?’ he asked, his voice quiet as he carefully held up the box, as if its contents were precious to him, ‘are you aware of the tradition that exists in Velaris? About what it means when someone presents this stone to another person?’

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding even faster now, and I was pretty sure I was starting to sweat. I wished I could read him better, wished I could know if he was hoping I knew, or hoping I didn’t. But he was a master of hiding his emotions, so I decided to go with the truth.

‘Yes, I know what it means.’ I admitted quietly, and knew if he didn’t have advanced hearing he wouldn’t have been able to make out the words; I could barely hear myself say them.

‘No, tell me. Tell me why you gave this to me.’ His eyes were still guarded, but his voice held a tinge of desperation, a tone I couldn’t resist from him.

‘I gave you that stone because the attendant at the jewellery store told me that the Starlight stone is what you give to a perspective partner, to acknowledge what you already feel for them, before the mating bond has sparked.’ I could feel the wariness on my face as he stood from the edge of the bed, stopping right in front of me.  

He tilted my chin up to meet his eyes with his index finger and whispered, ‘and what is it you feel for me, Y/N?’

‘I love you Rhys.’ I admitted softly, missing the way his eyes softened as my gaze fell to his lips.

His hand caressed my cheek, his thumb moving back and forth across my cheekbone. I was powerless to stop myself melting into his touch, and felt my eyes sheen with tears when I saw the affectionate look in his eyes. I watched as the dark mist of his magic swirled around the pendant, and lifted it from the box to secure it around his neck. My hand went to rest against his chest, where the pendant lay against his skin.

‘I love you too, Y/N darling.’ He murmured, wiping away the tears that fell silently down my cheeks.  

I vaguely heard the gift box fall to the floor, his free hand now landing on my hip and pulling me flush against his body. My arms wound around his neck, my fingers going to his silky soft hair as his mouth covered mine.

//

One Year Later

‘I’m just saying, Cassian is a great name for a tiny warrior.’ Cass grinned from the sofa, across from where Rhys and I sat in the love seat he’d bought for us about a year ago.  

‘Absolutely not.’ Rhys drawled, his hand gently moving back and forth across my swollen belly.

‘Do you have names picked out?’ Mor asked, her face holding the beaming expression that was always present when we were talking about the baby.

‘We do,’ I murmured, Rhys and I shared a secret smile at Mor’s squeal of excitement.  

‘We’re not revealing anything until the baby is born.’ Rhys grinned at the sounds of disapproval from his cousin and Cassian.  

‘You’re boring.’ The war General grumbled.

We all chuckled at his childish behaviour and I felt my expression soften with affection when Rhys leaned over to kiss my baby bump, murmuring words about how his uncle Cassian would always be the biggest baby in the family. Cassian grumbled louder, much to our amusement. My hand fell to Rhys hair, idly playing with the strands. He kissed my forehead and my eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of contentment that washed over me.  

Home. This was home.

[purplelupins]

Obedience

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

FARGO set in season 3

Pairing: V.M. Varga x reader

Warning: nsfw, swearing, mentions of sexual harassment, smut, Varga is so hot but gross and if you don’t want to read about it move along.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Working for Stussy Lots LTD. was supposed to be a stepping stone for y/n in her career as a business woman. Being a receptionist with the duties of an intern, however, barely filled her desires.

Getting coffee, making copies, while also answering the phone, greeting guests and aiding Emmit Stussy and Sy Feltz in their general work while also being office eye candy was not on her job description. But in sleepy St. Cloud, Minnesota, there weren’t a lot of options for a business grad student. So y/n sucked it up, and kept her head facing forward.

“Good morning Mr. Stussy. Here is your morning coffee, and you have two messages.” Y/n sat the coffee down on Emmit Stussy’s desk and handed him the two pieces of paper.

“Thank you.” He responded absentmindedly. Emmit took a sip of the coffee and immediately spat it out, “What the hell is this? Milk? I told you yesterday that I’m taking almond milk from now on. Stella’s orders. Do I have to do it myself?” He barked at her.

Y/n lost any pleasant expression her previously had. “My apologies, sir. I’ll make you a fresh cup-“

“Don’t bother. You’ll just mess it up. Go make copies of these documents and geez the phone is ringing, aren’t you going to answer that?” Emmit was an asshole. Y/n hated him.

“Right away sir.” She gave him a tight smile and took the documents before striking back to her desk at the front and picking up the phone, “Good morning, Stussy Lots LTD. How may I help you today?”

And that was how most days went.

The low hum of the copy machine almost put y/n to sleep. She watched as one after another after another paper popped out the side. Y/n was snapped out of her daze when her hairs stood on end suddenly.

“Ah good morning y/n. Looking lovely today.”

Sy Feltz. Y/n loathed him. A pig.

“Good morning Mr. Feltz. Thank you very much sir. “ She cringed. Then she felt his hand graze her bottom and she wanted to vomit.

“How could I not say something?” He have her a smirk under his thick moustache. Normally she didn’t mind facial hair but his reminded her of how his breath stank of alcohol during holiday parties and how he would always find a way to feel her up. Between him and Emmit she had an encyclopedia of violations of company policies and marriage boundaries.

Y/n gave him an uncomfortable laugh and grabbed her files as fast as she could and walked back to Emmit’s office to drop them off. Then. Ack to her desk to manage appointments and try not to break into a sob; her education feeling beyond wasted.

She didn’t remember how many times she tried to complain, but every time Mr. Stussy backed up Feltz and he said he didn’t know what she was talking about.

Just another day.

-

“Good afternoon, Stussy Lots LTD. My name is y/n, how may I help you?” Y/n stared at her computer as she set up another appointment for Sy and their lawyer. Seemed they were meeting a lot lately. Y/n placed the phone down and when she looked back up, she almost jumped out of her skin. Staring down at her was an exceedingly tall man with an eeri smile on his face. He was gaunt and tired, his teeth were crooked and needed a good brush. But he was a new face and that was welcome.

“I apologize sir. I didn’t see you there. Good afternoon! How may I help you?” Y/n gave him a nice smile. Before he could respond, Emmit came out from his office in a rush and plastered that shit-eating smile on his face that showed too many teeth.

“That’s alright, y/n I got it!” He waved her off, “What can I do for you friend?”

“Mr. Stussy. What a day. What a day!” The man responded, y/n liked his voice. It wasn’t harsh, and his accent was pleasant, “I was hoping to show the boys the new office.” He said.

New office?

Emmit looked lost and uncomfortable all of a sudden, “The-?”

“It’s this way I believe?” The man began walking past y/n down a hall before he quickly turned back and said, “Thank you my dear. Good afternoon to you too.” And with that he went down the hall to where there were indeed empty office space.

Emmit quickly leaned over y/n’s desk and whispered, “Call Sy.”

Y/n nodded and picked up the phone. Something was happening. And y/n could tell that no matter how much he pretended, Emmit didn’t know what was happening and he had zero control.

She smirked internally as she dialled the phone number for Sy. Karma is a bitch Mr. Stussy.

She could hear him down the hall trying to talk to the tall man and his associates, but to no avail.

“Hello Mr. Feltz, Mr. Stussy has requested you come to the office immediately.” She spoke calmly.

He stuttered on the other line and hung up quickly.

Y/n no sooner placed the phone down and the elevator doors opened again. Men with dolly’s of files and boxes wheeled in past her desk. Y/n stood slowly and looked at them. She could hear Emmit down the hall.

“Stop! We have rights!” He cried.

She stifled a laugh.

“Emmit, Emmit, you’re making a scene.” The tall man said.

Well said.

The boxes kept coming, man after man.

After 15 minutes of watching them, Sy finally came though the door, looking equally confused and uncomfortable.

“Mr. Feltz, I don’t know what’s going on…there was a man-“

“Oh good! They’re here.” He said. Y/n raised an eyebrow- what was he hiding?

“Remember when I told you we’re expanding our IT department?”

“No.” She said.

“Well we are…so…” he walked away nervously.

They were up to something.

Y/n could see the tall man in Emmit’s office, leaning against the windowsill like it was his office, not Emmit’s. He turned around, speaking to the two men now in the office; y/n had been staring at him for too long and he glanced at her, catching her. He smirked.

Y/n quickly fell into her seat and was suddenly very interested in going through the emails. Mostly condolences on Irv’s passing.

The door to Emmit’s office opened and the tall man began walking to the elevator infront of y/n. A blush rose to her cheeks, trying to not look at him.

“V.M. Varga.”

Y/n looked up slowly. He stood there, towering over her desk. He held his hand out; it was large and his veins poked out gently.

Y/n took it carefully. He wrapped his fingers around her hand and shook it.

“I’m V.M. Varga. I am an associate of Mr. Stussy’s.” His voice made her hair stand on end. It wasn’t creepy per se, but it was strange. Slow and calculated.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Varga. I’m Y/n L/n, but please call me y/n.” She gave him a grin.

“Pleasure.” He dipped his head to stare at her on her level and released her hand.

“Meemo and Yuri will be here to make sure our transition is smooth, but I won’t be here for a couple days. I trust you’ll be of service to them when you can?” He asked.

Y/n nodded her head, “Of course, Mr. Varga. Whatever you need.”

Varga was surprised by her compliance.

“You have a good day, my dear.” He went to the open elevator.

Y/n gave him a bitter smile, “I’ll try sir.”

The three men disappeared behind the sliding door, Varga watched the girl behind the desk until the door was shut.

“Keep an eye on her.” He murmured to the men at his sides. They nodded.

-

A few days had passed. Y/n had learned the names of the two men who had come with Varga that first day. Meemo and Yuri.

Y/n liked them. They were intimidating but pleasant. The day after they had all come in initially, Yuri had come to y/n’s desk, leaned across and simply said “We don’t have any problems here?”

Y/n had stared up at him, “No problems here as long as you don’t make any for me.”

He gave her a slow smirk. “Yuri,” Pointing to himself, “That’s Meemo.”

Y/n had nodded, “Y/n. Pleasure.”

They came and went constantly over the coming days, always holding a briefcase. She was curious, but it was above her pay grade to ask. She didn’t care as long as they didn’t ask her to get them coffee or try to feel her up.

They were quiet, but y/n wanted to know more about that V. M. Varga. There was more to him than just an associate. She could tell.

It was a few days later, and both Emmit and Sy were constantly on edge. They snapped at her even more, once even tugging her out of their office by force- she had a bruise for days. Emmit all but humiliated her over nothing in front of the entire office when she told him he should consider a different plot of land to purchase when going over some files; he only stopped when Yuri and Meemo all but interrogated him.

Y/n was grateful. Yuri had said that he was disrupting their work and making the office uncomfortable.

But what she didn’t know was that they informed a certain Englishman. And he was revolted. This was his office now, and he would not have misdemeanours happen under his rule.

Another day passed. Y/n sighed out of boredom. Stussy had been a mess- evidently his wife of 25 years when she found a sex tape of him. Nasty.

Y/n cringed as now he would be on the search for some pity harassment. Around midday, y/n settled into the break room, searching for a nice cup of tea. She searched every shelf, and it wasn’t until after a moment that she saw the box on the top shelf. A good foot away from her hand. She signed.

Y/n was just about to give up when she felt a chest pressed against her back, she jumped.

Stussy.

He was impossibly close and his face was desperately needy. Y/n’s heart thudded, not knowing if he would do something worse.

“Hey y/n. You’re sure lookin! Nice. New skirt? Sure shows off those legs-“

“Emmit?”

Y/n snapped her head to the door of the secluded room. Varga. Standing tall as if Stussy was trespassing.

He was.

“Emmit do you mind backing away from the poor girl.” He walked into the room and Emmit suddenly became all twitchy and started stuttering, “I-she-she, well, you see- I”

“Oh do save it.”Varga shook his head, “Now then, were you needing something up there, y/n?” He turned his direction to the girl who had stopped breathing. She stared up at him wide eyed, but thankful.

Emmit stormed out, embarrassed.

“Yes sir. I was trying to get the tea from the top there, see? I’m afraid it’s just a bit out of my reach…” she said quietly. Varga gave her a smile and nodded, coming next to her. Y/n didn’t move, letting him stand in her space. She almost gasped when he stood next to her and reached up with ease.

“There you are, my dear,” He placed the box in her hands gently and closed the cupboard, “Would it be dreadful if I asked you to make an extra cup?” He asked, a small smile on his lips.

Y/n gave him a smile, “You don’t have to ask sir. I was going to anyway.”

That small smile stretched out across his face. Y/n half wondered if he would bite her.

“Thank you.” With that he turned and went back to his office, leaving y/n alone to think.

What just happened?

Her mind ticked.

She barely registered that she boiled the kettle and made the tea. It wasn’t until she was walking to the once-empty wing of the office to deliver the tea that she snapped back to her body.

Tick.

Y/n tapped her knuckles on the closed door, not wanting to disturb them. Who knows what they were doing. After a moment, the door swung open- it was Meemo.

“It’s alright Meemo, it’s for me I believe.” The man stood aside to let Varga come to the door.

It was a wonder he didn’t hit his head on the frame.

“Here you are sir. Wasn’t sure if you took anything in it.” She handed it over nervously. She didn’t like how he made her so calm when everyone was so on edge around him. It was odd. He was odd.

Tick.

Y/n sat at her desk. Another few days went by and she was barely paying attention.

What she did know was that she was never bothered by anyone anymore. She could sit peacefully at her desk and she knew why.

Tick.

Varga would walk through the front of the office almost every day, being greeted with the same beautiful eyes and smile each time.

He craved that voice of hers saying “Good morning Mr. Varga!”

He relished in the blush that would form on her face when he would stop and say “Good morning y/n.”

She truly was wasted there. That had to change.

It was around 7:30 on Wednesday night. Y/n waited for the last few employees to go home before locking up. It was ridiculous how long they made her wait some nights. She rested her head in her hands and rubbed her eyes.

The ‘ding’ from the elevator made her look up, two of the last employees were leaving. Finally. Y/n stood and brushed her skirt. She never wore anything amazing. Just simple things that didn’t cost too much. No one noticed anyways.

She made her way down the isles of offices and cubicles, turning off all the lights, until she got to the once-empty wing. The light was on under the door.

Strange. She could have sworn they left.

Y/n knocked, “Mr. Varga? I’m just closing up for the night. Do you need any-“

The door opened, the man in question stood where her knuckles had just been.

“Evening, my dear. I do apologize. Had some loose ends to tie up I’m afraid.” He mused, walking back into his office to grab his coat and briefcase. Yuri was behind him.

“Yuri wait for me downstairs. Won’t be a moment.” Varga instructed the man. He nodded and walked past y/n. She heard the elevator door ding open and shut. Suddenly very aware of how alone they were. Varga shut and locked the door and y/n began walking back to her desk to grab her things.

Tick.

She decided to cross a line she had drawn for herself.

“Mr. Varga?” She asked slowly.

“Hmm?” He hummed, standing by her desk.

“You…” she took a deep breath, “You don’t work for anyone, do you? There is no Narwal.” Y/n didn’t know why, but she had to say something. She had seen the files and read the data. And V.M. Varga was no employee. He watched her.

“You’re behind everything.” She whispered.

That loan. She had a bad feeling about it when Emmit had said they didn’t ask for anything in return or as collateral. That wasn’t a loan. That was an investment. A virus.

Silence surrounded them. Varga stood there, thinking.

“Very good.” He said finally.

Y/n let out a breath.

“How long have you known?” Varga stood up straight as y/n shrugged on her coat and draped her purse across her shoulder.

“I knew something was wrong with that loan since I heard about it. No collateral? Come on. A moron could see that there would be something sinister behind it.” She smiled.

A laugh came from him, it was dry and tired, “You give them too much credit, my dear.”

Y/n nodded. She knew she did- she had to; they employed her. Varga stared at her for a few moments, thinking. Weighing his options.

“You’re wasted here.” He said. Startling her, “You have a business degree, yes?”

She nodded.

“And you’re being treated like a dog’s breakfast here.” He added, disgust in his face.

“Well I don’t have a lot of options here in St. Cloud…can’t afford to move so I’m stuck for now.” She nodded, hanging her head slightly.

“You ever consider working for someone else?” He pressed.

Tick.

Y/n could see he was going somewhere, “Of course. It’s not like I enjoy being felt up by unhappily married men. I’ve got a pretty face and that’s where most people stop. I’ve got more brains than this whole office put together I swear.” She ran her hand through her hair, the added, “Not including your wing of the office, sir.”

“I assumed.”

“I also have enough dirt of the both of them, Emmit and Sy, to put them into very uncomfortable situations.” She added.

He liked that.

There was a question hanging between them. Finally after what seemed to be hours, he asked.

“I could use someone like you on my side. Ever consider?” He slipped his hand into his pocket.

Y/n smiled up at him, “The side of the devil himself?”

“I suppose.”

“What’s in it for me?” She asked, curious.

“How does a $50 000 signing bonus and a hefty salary sound?” He said seriously- all jokes aside.

The air left y/n’s lungs.

Her mouth hung open.

“You’re joking.” She managed after a moment.

“Do I look like I’m joking my dear?” He wasn’t.

“No.” She whispered.

“So? I haven’t got all night.” He pressed the elevator call button.

Y/n stood there.

What about her work there?

Her references?

Her time and energy?

Her connections?

“If you have any doubts I’m sure we will be able to reach some sort of consensus.” Varga leaned against the wall, waiting.

Tick.

Y/n walked around the desk slowly and up to Varga. She held her hand out, which he took and shook.

“Welcome, Miss l/n.” He smirked and led her into the now open elevator.

“I look forward to working with you, sir.” She said, suddenly realizing that she invited the devil inside. More than she knew.

“Oh! Take this. Go buy yourself something nice. Can’t have you put to waste in such drab clothes.” He handed her a credit card. She wondered what the limit was on it.

She laughed. “I tried to dress as unappealing so they’d leave me alone.”

The elevator doors opened and Varga gestured for her to step out first. The lobby of the building was dead quiet. Y/n could see Yuri outside with a car.

Varga turned to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t flinch, she actually welcomed it.

“They ever touch you, you come to me. They ever breathe too close, you…?” He waited.

“I come to you sir.” She finished.

“Good girl.” He squeezed her arm, “Come to my office tomorrow morning. Don’t go to that old desk, it’s not yours anymore.”

Y/n nodded, butterflies in her stomach.

Tick.

-

It felt strange taking the elevator knowing that she wouldn’t have to sit infront of it ever again. Y/n had indeed bought herself a few nice things. The had also taken time to do her hair- slicking it back into a tight bun. That first morning, y/n made sure to be a little late. Just so Stussy and Feltz would be there to know that she no longer worked for them.

She had bought herself a pair of high, black trousers that fit her perfectly and cinched in her waist, a soft v-neck blouse that showed off her neck and sternum as she stood tall in her heels- the heel high enough that she could effectively stab someone. To top it off she wore a beautiful trench coat akin to Varga’s, though much newer.

The sound of her heels clicked in her ears as she exited the elevator. Front desk empty. She shrugged off her coat and placed it over one arm before making her way past the Stussy and Feltz offices.

Stussy came first. He look a few moments to register who she was, then coming out the door, “ y/n! Where the heck are you going? You and k are going to have a talk later about your lateness today.” He followed after her, y/n paid him no mind.

Fetlz was second and last. He saw Emmit, then y/n and his mouth hung open. Was it Christmas? He too popped out of his office. Both men followed her like puppies. Pathetic.

“Say y/n are we getting raises or something today? Seems like our lucky day! You look great!” Sy caught up her and grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop “I’m talking to y-“

Before the words even left his mouth his own hand was snatched off of y/n’s harshly.

“No you’re not. Not anymore.” Varga materialized out of nowhere and tossed Sy’s hand away in disgust. “You will never speak to miss l/n ever again unless spoken to first. And you will never touch her. Is that clear?”

He circled y/n, placing a protective arm around her. The men nodded slowly, looking terrified.

“We was just- y-you know. No hard feelings and all that? We never meant any-“ Emmit stuttered.

Y/n turned around and Varga followed suit. He strode next to her and leaned over to say, “Welcome to the truth, my dear.”

Y/n shivered.

What have I gotten into?

-

“Was it truly that easy?” Y/n stared out of the office window that was once Sy Feltz’s. She was in disbelief how easily manipulated Emmit was.

“If you know the pressure points of a human mind, anything is possible, my dear. For Emmit Stussy, however, I didn’t need to know anything profound…crumbled like a house of cards.” A dry laugh came from him. Y/n turned and stared at Varga sat with his feet up on the desk leaning back. He was watching her.

“Wish I could have been there.” Y/n walked to the front of the desk and stood tall. He had been right to recruit her.

“Shall I go back to typing up my blackmail diaries, sir?” That was what they called them. They were documents upon documents of misconduct in the office towards herself and what she had witnessed from others.

“Off your go then. Oh! Could you fill this cup with water please my dear?” He held out Sy’s old cup that his poor wife had given him. If only she knew.

“Not a problem, sir.” She smiled and took the cup. He stared and watched her.

He was up to something.

When y/n returned with the cup full, Meemo, Yuri and Sy all stood in the office. She tapped the glass and Varga waved her in. Sy almost jumped away from her, likely due to countless threats from Varga. Y/n smirked and handed the cup into the waiting hands of Varga.

“Thank you, y/n. I’ll find you later.” He gave her a crooked smile.

Y/n shivered. Not out of disgust, more out of anticipation.

“Yes sir.” And with that she exited the office and went to their private wing to continue her documentation.

-

The files were finished.

Y/n stood in the large office, leaning against the windowsill, arms crossed. It was very early on December 19th, snow fell outside, and there was a quiet hum in the office as not one else was there.

Y/n had just informed Varga of her finished work. He was pleased. The documents would come into play very soon.

It was been almost strange working for someone who didn’t corner her every 5 minutes for a feel-up or abuse her mentally and physically. It was especially odd as V.M. Varga was not a kind man. He was a business man in the billionaire business. No time for niceties. But he was pleasant to her. Very pleasant.

Y/n had squeezed her eyes shut as he left a room more than once to rid her brain of the terrible thoughts she had of him. He wasn’t a terribly handsome man. He was almost scary from his massive height to his unkept hair to his unkept teeth. But something about him make y/n ache.

He was a fairly open book. Not ashamed of anything. Y/n decided on that early morning that she would ask him why he never tried to touch her; convinced she was destined to be felt up her whole life.

“Mr. Varga, sir?” She asked.

“Yes?” He said.

“Why is it that you have never tried to touch or harass me? I’m not trying to say that it should be in your nature or anything…I’ve just gotten so used to it that I notice it greatly that I’m no longer uncomfortable.” She wrung her hands, trying to not insult him.

Varga observed her for a moment. He stood slowly and placed his hands in his pockets.

“As a business man, I believe it is most important to establish a working relationship between oneself and their…partners. Knowing the line and not crossing it I suppose. I may not be a man of many values but I do know when to behave. Mostly.” He laughed.

Y/n nodded, half understanding him.

“So you don’t find me attractive?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“Did I say that?” He slowly stalked towards her. Taking in every move she made. He was a predator, there was no doubt of it.

Y/n began to blush and looked away from him. “N-No, sir, but-“

“You’re wondering what I think of you?” He slowly cocked his head to the side. His tall frame towering over her. He still wasn’t touching her, but y/n was dizzy on his proximity. It was demanding and intimidating and y/n couldn’t get enough.

She stood her ground, the windowsill digging into her thighs. “I am.” She looked back up at him.

“What would you like to hear, my dear.” He whispered, just a foot away now.

With every passing second her mind went fuzzier and fuzzier. She didn’t know what to say. When she had initially asked the question she didn’t think he would say much. Maybe laugh it off or tell her about a Russian saying. Not this though.

The air disappeared from her lungs.

“I-“

“Cat got your tongue?” He leaned down a couple inches, close to her ear. The hairs on her neck stood up and goosebumps spread across her arms and legs. She didn’t know what to say. She was dizzy, not able to look away. His breath fanned across her cheek.

“Perhaps I ought to show you, since words are alluding us tonight?” His breath tickled her neck. Y/n nodded obediently. Varga smiled and placed a kiss just under her ear.

Y/n gasped.

The kisss instantly sent shocks down to between her thighs. Varga seemed to enjoy the sound as he slipped his hand into the hair at the back of her head and pulled. She moaned in surprise.

“Are you quite sure my dear?” He murmured against her skin, licking her ear.

“Yes…” she whispered with baited breath.

Please please please please!

“Yes…?” He pulled again. She winced.

“Yes sir.” She corrected.

“That’s a good girl.”

Y/n grasped his tie and pulled, and Varga took the invitation. His lips descended on hers before she could register; they were dry and he tasted of mint, but y/n was drunk on it. She could feel his tongue lick her bottom lip. Y/n welcomed him inside, gasping as he smoothed his tongue across her’s. A low moan came from her throat, he liked that. Varga moved his hands to her thighs and pulled her up onto the ledge of the window; she wrapped her legs around his hips and gasped again when she felt his arousal hot and pressed against her.

Without even realizing, her hips began rubbing against him, desperate for friction.

She pulled away to look up at him, he smirked and showed those crooked teeth of his. He saw how blown her pupils were. She was so desperate for his touch. He reviled in it.

“Looking for something?” He teased.

“P-please. Sir. Please-“ she stuttered.

He stared at her like a wolf would it’s prey.

“Something like…” he growled. Varga slid a hand up her soft thigh, under her skirt, swiping one of his long fingers across her soaked panties. He touched her too gently, then pulled her hair again; almost saying that he can stop playing nicely at any moment.

She hadn’t dreamed in a million years that V.M. Varga would be trancing his thumb across the most sensitive part of her body and making her beg for more.

Y/n nodded her head vigorously at his question. He smirked and brought his lips down to hers again, tugged her panties aside and slipped two long fingers inside her; she moaned loudly. He pulled back to speak against her lips, his tongue flicking out against hers, “Good girl. Look at me. There it is.” She stared up into his eyes, mouth open in ecstasy. He was slowly pumping in and out of her, hooking his fingers in just the right way.

How the hell did he know…?

“Now tell me. Is there anyone else who touches you like this?” He whispered in her ear, that English accent was heavier now. It made y/n’s inner walls clench around his fingers, he noted.

“N-no sir.” She managed before another moan came from her throat.

“And will there ever be anyone else to touch you like this?” He was torturing her. And she couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck- no, no sir!” She gasped, her pussy was getting beyond sensitive, she knew she was close, he did too.

“How can I be so sure?” His voice lowered even more.

“B-be-because -ah! I-I only w-want you. Sir. Fuck! Please!” Tears pooled in her eyes.

“Please?” He asked innocently.

“Please! I need to- I’m going to- Ah!”

“Going to?” He stopped moving. She wined. He decided he liked that sound too. She was so dumb for him.

“I’m going to cum sir! Please!” She gripped his shoulders, pleading for him to help her finish.

“Ahh is that what you want?” He resumed his speed, feeling her grow tighter with every stroke of his fingers. He decided she would hear his voice as she came, “Listen to my voice. You’re going to cum on my fingers because you’re my obedient girl. Then once you’ve finished, I’m going to shove my cock inside you and fuck you until you can’t remember your name. Do you hear me?” And that was all it took.

“Y-yes! Ah!” She squeezed her eyes shut and she felt his devour her mouth as she came hard around his deft fingers. A rush of cum dripped out of her onto his hand. She slowly released her vice-like grip on his suit. When she opened her eyes, she saw him smirking wolfishly down at her. He wished he had a camera to take a photo of her like that. Lips swollen and eyes heavy, cheeks flushed. Panting.

For him.

Varga slipped his fingers from her and held them up to his mouth, licking them once, then turning them to her, “Open.” He commanded.

She obliged, and he stuck his fingers inside her mouth for her to taste herself. He watched her lick them clean.

“So obedient.” He murmured.

Y/n felt her heart beating in her ears, she needed more. He knew it.

Varga reached down and unbuckled his belt, opening his pants and tugging his boxers down to his knees. Y/n barely had time to register how large he was before he was rubbing the head of his cock against her. She closed her eyes again, but he pulled her hair again and said, “Eyes open.”

Y/n fluttered them open and stared up at him. As soon as she looked at him, he smiled that crooked smile and pushed his cock inside her. Her brows pitched up and her mouth opened in a gasp. He was longer than she had thought, and he stretched her so deliciously she almost came again right there.

Once all the way in, Varga began to pull out again in a painfully slow pace. Y/n regained that tight grip on his arms, needing something to hold onto.

He was surprisingly strong, his grip on her never failing. She wondered what else he was capable of. Y/n let out a cry when he quickly snapped his hips and pushed back inside her.

“Now then, I’m going to ask you one. More. time.” He growled out, thrusting inside her with each word, “Who do you answer to?”

“Y-you, Mr. Varga.” Y/n moaned.

“And who do you belong to?” He was close, as was she; her walls squeezed him tightly.

“Y-YOU! V.M. VARGA, SIR! I’M YOURS!”She screamed, her pussy clenched once again as she came. He growled and dipped his head to her neck, biting her and sucking at the skin, marking his territory.

“Mine.” With that, he came inside her, back going ridged. He groaned and hunched over her. Y/n wrapped her legs tightly around him.

After a moment, he straightened up and removed himself from her. Y/n went to hop down but before she could, Varga handed her a handkerchief; she took it slowly, watching him. He went to step away, but she gripped his tie and brought him back down for one more dizzying kiss. As she pulled away, she nipped at his lip. He smirked.

Y/n hopped down from the window ledge; her legs were weak and she stumbled into his arms. Varga pulled her up and inspected his work on her neck.

“Don’t try to cover that.” He gestured to the dark mark.

She nodded silently and smiled, “Now why would I hide your work, sir?” She called as she walked out of the office. His eyes followed her as she left.

He was right to hire her.

Such an obedient girl.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@funandfancyfree

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

just let me adore you || h. styles

warnings: swearing, kissing, briefly proofread

word count: 2.3k

summary: a holiday in italy involves an unusual amount of shampoo and lusting...

The villa was somewhat quiet. The sound of solitary piano notes echoed through the halls. Harry’s hair was dishevelled from his heavy night’s sleep prior to the warm morning he found himself emersed in. While his fingers were busy working away at the grand piano, his eyes were preoccupied with following your form around the backyard of the villa. 

You were sat by the pool, your book long forgotten. Your sunglasses were shielding your eyes from the unrelenting Italian sun. Your hair was pinned up, your skin exposed to the heat of the morning. 

Harry’s attention was suddenly pulled away by the sound of your father emerging from the kitchen. “Morning, Haz,” he grinned, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “Any plans for today?”

He shrugged, “Might just, you know, work on some music.”

“A man committed to his career, that’s what I like to see,” your father said. 

Harry nodded awkwardly, offering the older man a quick smile. Once your father disappeared into the lounge, Harry found his eyes wandering back to you. But you’d vanished. Had there not been wet footprints staining the concrete poolside, there would be no trace you’d been there at all. 

Focusing on the lone notes the piano had no trouble emitting became an increasingly difficult task. All he could seem to focus on was you and the obnoxiously loud laughter of your mother and his own in the kitchen. He huffed loudly, pulling his jacket around himself tightly. He clambered up from the piano stool, stalking through to the kitchen to kindly ask if the two women could lower to volume slightly. However, he was soon silenced by the sight of you sat on the countertop of the island, your legs swinging beneath you, a peeled tangerine in your delicate hands. You were smiling slightly as the women couldn’t help but laugh at something Anne had said. 

A bundle of nerves unravelled itself inside of Harry’s stomach when you looked up and locked eyes with him. Your mother and Anne quickly quietened down at Harry’s sudden presence in the doorway. “Morning, darling,” Anne smiled. 

“Morning, Mum,” he replied, breaking his gaze away from your own. “Do you, uh, do you mind if you can keep it down a bit? I’m trying to work.”

“Work?” your mum asked. “Harry, dear, we’re in Italy! Why don’t you wait to work when you get home.”

“I know, but I feel most inspired when I’m away from my house,” he tried to explain. 

“Just take a break, Harry. Relax… you know, unwind,” Anne said softly. 

He sighed, “Okay. Fine. I’m going to shower.”

And with that, he spun on his heel and left the kitchen. You’d been silent throughout the entire exchange, glancing between Harry and your half-eaten tangerine. As you watched him leave, you averted your attention back to your book that was being held open by a mug you’d quickly put down so as not to lose your place.  

Harry found himself running his hands through his dark hair, which was now coated in mango-scented shampoo. He’d just grabbed it off the shelf in the shower, assuming it came as a complimentary luxury with the villa. As the hot water trickled down his body, he allowed his muscles to relax. He knew his mum was right: he needed to separate himself from his music for a few days. But he was only working away tirelessly at the grand piano because it kept his mind off you. If it wasn’t music, it was you. If it wasn’t you, it was music. 

These yearly holidays used to be enjoyable for Harry. Right up until he was fourteen and he realised he liked you. Then they became almost torturous. As soon as he began to see you in this different light, your presence and whereabouts became apparent to his senses. Before, you always seemed to swim in the pool with Gemma or play in her room. He’d occupy himself with your brother by going down to the beach or playing tag in the extensive gardens of the Italian villa. But you suddenly seemed to be everywhere. He’d go down to the beach and there you’d be with your parents or Gemma. He’d be running through the gardens trying to find your brother after an afternoon of hide and seek, and yet he’d discover you reading or gossiping with his sister. All of this, but the summer you didn’t come with your family because you were going away to Scotland with your then-boyfriend instead was utterly dreadful for him.

When he was finished in the shower, he wasted the rest of the day by the pool in hopes you’d venture out with your books and tangerines. But alas, you did not. It was only when the sun was dipping below the horizon did he next lay eyes on you. He was sat at the dining table, his plate before him. You grinned at him, sitting down opposite him. You kept quiet as your parents chatted away mindlessly with Anne, only sharing a brief and quiet conversation with your brother, who you were sat beside. 

Gemma hadn’t come this year, leaving Harry and Anne alone with your family. Anne didn’t seem to have a problem with that at all. After all, she and your mother were such good friends and always had been. You had always been content in your own company. And your brother seemed to spend all his time with your father, something about inheriting the family business. So, Harry had found a companion in the villa’s grand piano, which had now been stripped away from him courtesy of his mother. 

It wasn’t as if you were deliberately being cold to Harry. You actually quite admired him and you knew you always had. And it wasn’t as if you weren’t aware of his eyes following you everywhere you went. But you liked the attention. You wanted to know just what you could do to him. So, when your foot accidentally grazed his leg beneath the table, you didn’t even look at him. After all, it was a mere accident. 

When, at last, your father was finished with his meal, you helped Anne clear away the dishes and your mother as she washed up. While your father and brother ventured through to the lounge to watch a football game, Harry went straight to his room. 

An hour passed and he was too busy on his phone to notice you enter his room. When you cleared your throat, he finally looked up. His eyes were wide like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He hurriedly shut off his phone, blackness overtaking the screen that had once presented your Instagram profile to him. “Oh, hi, Y/N,” he said as you sat yourself down at the foot of his bed. 

“Oh? Didn’t realise you were expecting someone else,” you smirked. 

“No, no, no. I, uh, I wasn’t. I was just surprised to see you,” he said quickly. 

“Right,” you grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He watched your face screw up suddenly. You leaned forward towards him, before laughing. “What?” he asked. “What’s funny?”

“Is that my shampoo?” you questioned. 

“Shit. I just thought it was a, you know, freebie. I didn’t realise it was yours. Shit. I wouldn’t have used it if I knew it was yours. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

As he rambled, he remembered that the two of you shared the same bathroom. It was between your respective bedrooms, doors leading to both. Of course it was your shampoo. You chuckled at his ramblings, “It’s okay Harry. It’s just shampoo. You can use it whenever.”

“Oh,” he let out a sigh of relief. “Well, for what it’s worth, I thought it smelt wonderful.”

You smiled, “Thanks. I have a pomegranate one in my suitcase that I think you’d love.”

“Really? Why did you bring two shampoos?” he asked. 

You shrugged, “So I have options depending on my mood. Sometimes I’m feeling like a pomegranate, sometimes I’m feeling like a mango.”

He couldn’t help but smile, his eyes wandering up your bare legs that were only sporting a pair of silky shorts. Obviously, this didn’t go unnoticed by you. “The only thing is,” you started, “you’re going to smell like me now.”

He shifted slightly. You smiled to yourself. 

“What if people, you know, get the wrong idea?” you asked innocently. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, “I guess you’ll just have to use your pomegranate shampoo tomorrow instead, won’t you?”

You leaned back, somewhat satisfied with his answer. His cheeks were flushed and you knew your job for the evening was done. “Fair play, Styles. See you in the morning,” you made a point of touching his shoulder as you left via the shared bathroom. 

The following morning, Harry awoke, finding himself peacefully content for a moment before he recalled the prior night’s events. He was yet to decide if you were actually making a move on him or not. Or perhaps you were genuinely concerned that your families would smell your signature mango scent on Harry and get the wrong impression of the entire thing. 

He dragged himself out of the soft sheets, getting dressed. He listened silently to the running shower. He could hear you humming along to Then He Kissed Me by The Crystals. And after the shower he stopped, he gave it five minutes before going in to brush his teeth. He couldn’t help but look over to see your bottle of pomegranate shampoo making its place beside your mango one. The red bottle was the one soaked in droplets of water, while the yellow bottle remained dry. You’d done as he’d said. In a way, Harry almost wished you’d used the mango shampoo. He almost liked the thought of people thinking he and you had been so close that he’d absorbed your tropical scent. 

As he wandered into the kitchen, preparing himself some toast, he noticed the unusual silence of the villa. It was unnerving. He felt like the protagonists of those books and movies where they wake up and everyone’s gone or been evacuated. It felt apocalyptic. But, as his mind churned out immediate actions to take in this case of an unprecedented apocalypse, you walked into the kitchen just as his toast popped out of the toaster. “Morning,” you smiled, sitting down at one of the island’s stools. 

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, spreading butter onto the crisp toast. 

You shrugged, “It was alright. You?”

“I slept wonderfully.”

“Good,” you said. 

“Where is everyone?” he asked, sitting down opposite you. 

“They left for the beach,” you explained. “I didn’t want to go and they didn’t want to wait around for you to get out of bed. Anne told me to tell you that if you want to go down, they’re the ones with the pink deckchairs.”

He nodded slowly, “I think I’ll pass. Not a fan of sand.”

“Right? Why do people enjoy playing in minuscule rocks, which end up in your clothes for the next two weeks? Sounds like hell to me,” you said. 

He smiled at your aggravated tone, “Wow, and I thought I hated sand.” 

“You haven’t seen anything yet, pal,” you joked, smiling. 

Before a blanket of silence could fall on top of the two of you, Harry quickly said, “I saw you used the pomegranate shampoo.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him, “Yeah… I mean, you told me to, right?”

“Right,” he nodded quickly. “Of course. Well, at least we both smell nice now.”

You frowned, “If you say so. Anyway, I’m going for a swim. See you later.”

Harry watched you leave. His eyes roamed your figure with your legs exposed in a pair of shorts. You looked back at him over your shoulder, grinning to yourself at his longing look. He watched through the large kitchen windows as you rid yourself of your shorts and t-shirt, revealing your swimsuit beneath. He tried desperately to peel his gaze away from you as you settled yourself comfortably on one of the sun loungers by the pool. You placed your sunglasses over your eyes, opening your book. 

As soon as he’d finished his toast, he wandered outside. At the sound of his footsteps, you looked up. “Hi, Harry,” you smiled. 

“Hello,” he said softly, sitting down opposite you. You slid your sunglasses up over your head, settling them on your hair. You sat up, never allowing your eyes to leave his. “How can I help you?” you grinned. 

He was fiddling with his fingers, his gaze alternating between them and you. Finally, you reached out and placed your hand over his shaky ones. You stood, pulling him up with you. You were so close. You could hear each other breathing. You could practically hear his heart thumping against his ribs. You reached up to whisper in his ear, “I know you adore me.”

You smirked, allowing him to revel in your confidence. Call it cockiness. Same thing, really. You slowly pulled away from his ear, pressing your lips to the tip of his nose. And yet it was him who finally connected your lips to his own. He didn’t make any effort to pull away either. You smiled into the kiss, burying your fingers in his hair. And when he finally did pull away, he stared down at you, cheeks red, “Depends if you adore me too.”

You grinned, “I do.”

And, with that, he dove back in. You grinned as he wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up. He lay you down gently on the sun lounger, leaning over you. As you pulled his shirt over his head, he leaned back slightly. “I thought you didn’t want people to get the wrong idea,” he whispered. 

You shrugged, “I guess we’ll just have to see what pomegranate and mango smell like together.”

[writingsfromhome]

Crystal Clear

A/N: Here’s some fluff, friends to lovers I’ve had going on while I work on something bigger :))

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

“Y/N,” a strange man calls my name. I look him up and down but I don’t think I know him.

“Who’s asking?”

“Y/N, it’s me? Harry.”

“Oh,” I laugh and greet him how I would have if I’d recognized him under all those layers, in a great big hug. “Your disguise is brilliant!”

“It’s not a disguise,” he says into his coat. “It’s bloody cold here.”

“Coldest day so far,” I accept the hot chocolate from the vendor and ask him for another, Harry could use one, poor thing. His plans this week were changed last minute, and since he was in New York City where his best childhood friend lived, he decided to actually hang out with me. Ever since he got famous, it was hard to catch time with him.

“Did the cold freeze all the English out of you? You’re not even wearing mittens,” Harry accepts his own cup from the vendor.

“I’m got them in my pocket,” I point to the bulge on the side of my coat as we step aside and make our way deeper into the winter festival that was at Bryant Park. “Don’t insult me, I can still make a better cup of tea than you ever could.”

“There she is,” I hear the smile in Harry’s voice more than I see it. It truly was ridiculous--not only was he wearing the thickest parka I’d ever seen, he also had on a beanie and a scarf, as well as knit gloves that held tightly to his hot chocolate.

“I’m always here, you’re just too busy to see me.”

“Not this again,” he groans. I was always giving him grief every time he touched down to NYC but didn’t pop by for a visit. I knew he had a hectic schedule, and even though I wasn’t that bothered I still liked to tease him.

“It’s true, you come to the city so often but I see you once a year. And maybe again when I’m in London if I get lucky.”

“I’m busy Y/N, I talk to you all the time!”

“I know,” I elbow him. “I just like to rile you up.”

“Well now that you’ve got that out of your system,” he tugs my hat over my eyes. “Where are we going next?”

I push it back up, “I thought we could just wander the shops, then get on the skating rink if you’re not frozen to death.”

“Alright I’ve got to pick some gifts up anyway let’s see what’s here.”

We make a good team as we visit stands selling ornaments and kitschy decor, handmade gifts, and hot cider. We sift through exactly what we might want, or what the other’s looking for. And with the light dusting of snow coming down, and the bright lights strung around the Park, it was like walking in a Christmas movie.

“Look at this,” I point ahead. We’d nearly visited all the stands and holiday shops but a festive psychic advertises their services in a small glass booth. “Should we?”

“It’s a waste of money,” Harry scoffs. “She’s just going to read your body language.”

“She might be the real deal-”

“You can’t be serious-”

“C’mon!” I tug his gloves hand and it takes a few but he stumbles towards me. It’s slightly warmer inside and I notice the space heater running in the corner. “At least it’s warm” I whisper to Harry.

“You really want to do this?” He asks one last time.

“It’s just $10-”

“$20 for the two,” the woman almost shifts out of the wall and I hide my jump with a laugh. There’s a curtain behind her, I realize, she must have stepped out.

“It’s just me,” I clarify.

She eyes Harry and Harry eyes her back. “You look familiar.”

“Just have that face,” he shrugs, burrowing into his scarf. “I’m just here to watch.”

She stares at him a moment longer before settling at the small table. I flash Harry a smile before sitting down myself, setting my bags onto the floor.

“Palm reading, cards, what will it be dear?” The psychic asks. I remember the sign out front said cards would be more than having my palm read so I opt for the cheaper option.

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully as she traces the lines on my palm. I wriggle my eyebrows at Harry and he rolls his eyes, but he stays watching her like a hawk. It was cute how overprotective he got sometimes. The psychic glances up to catch him watching her, she then glances at me and tilts her head.

“I see longevity, in life and love, a few bumps but you’re a strong persistent woman.”

Harry grumbles behind me and I resist the urge to say something to him.

“I see success after hard, hard work. But a big success that will change the course of your career.”

“Wow, how soon?” I ask.

“Mmm, after a big milestone. Turning 30?” she continues to examine my hand. “I see a second life later in life, with kids...just one no maybe two children.”

“How about her love life?” Harry asks. “Her last love s’not too nice.”

“Seriously Harry?” I turn to glare this time. He’s grinning with flushed cheeks, knowing it was a sore spot he liked to say i told you so to. It was true, he had told me so about my 3 year relationship but I’d ignored him.

“Your love life,’ the woman speaks up. “Shows me two great loves. One cuts short, the other is as long as your life line.”

“Ooh,” I lean in, interested. “I think I know about the one that was cut short. Tell me about the second!”

“This second...” she traces my palm and I feel a tingle. “This second love is very close, a bit rocky but it will last.”

“A bit rocky?”

“Hm,” she chews her bottom lip. “Time, distance...it will make it rocky. But it lasts.”

“So how close is close?” I ask eagerly.

“Close,” she says with a smile that tells me I wasn’t getting anything else out of her.

“That’s a bit vague isn’t it?” Harry pipes up from the back.

“The future isn’t always crystal clear,” she says without looking up at him.

“Lay off,” I scold him.

“It’s okay, I get nonbelievers all the time.” She laughs. “That will be $10 dear.” When I hand her the bill she stops me as she takes it. “A little free advice?”

“Sure.” I pick up the bags I placed on the floor earlier.

"Don’t be so focused on the life you want that you don’t see the life you have around you.”

“I’ve actually told her that before,” Harry decides we want more of his unsolicited opinions. “Maybe there is something true to all of this.”

“Thanks,” I pocket her words for later. Harry was right, he’d said something along those lines to me before, especially when it came to giving up control and going with the flow on trips and events with him. I always declined his offers, we lived a modest life growing up and accepting these gifts from him always felt so excessive. I wanted to make my own way in the world, but Harry always had something to say. “And sorry for his attitude, he’s not always this rude.”

“Yeah,” Harry shifts forward. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m a lot nicer usually.”

“I know,” she smiles.

“She’s psychic,” I remind him.

“I’m also online,” she laughs. “Can I get a picture?”

Harry eyes me, before going in for a selfie with her. I know he usually didn’t mind getting asked in smaller settings but he’d admitted it was something he was still getting used to. It had been a couple years since he became so famous, in such a short amount of time I went from being able to go down to a local pub with my best friend to schedules and security details and a whole other list of complications. Sometimes I hated it, mostly I was happy for him.

“Another day, another fan.” I tell Harry after we walk away from the psychic and he flips me off. “Should we get something to eat and get out of the cold?”

“God yes,” Harry shivers. “Can we just go to yours?”

“Let’s go,” I loop my arm through Harry’s.

Harry wants instant warmth so he hails a cab and we pick up takeout once we reach my neighbourhood. Harry had been here a few times, my roommate had gotten used to the fact that I was best friends with him, and sometimes he preferred to stay here when he wanted to be anonymous. Paparazzi sometimes crowded outside his hotel when word leaked he was there.

We eat ourselves into a food coma and Harry decides to stay the night, not wanting to face the cold again. Since our living room couch sprained his neck the only time he’d slept there, he usually crashed in my bed. His head barely hits the pillow before he’s snoring, I guess the jet lag finally caught up.

***

I jerk out of sleep, a crashing noise followed by swearing catches my attention.

“I think your roommate dropped something,” I hear from beside me. I turn my face to get a facefull of Harry’s thigh tattoos.

“Y’think?” I croak and shift backwards to see his face. He’s sitting up in bed and scrolling through his phone.

“Guess which psychic is officially internet-famous?” Harry asks dryly.

“Hm?” I’m still calming my heart from waking up so suddenly so it takes a moment to register Harry’s words. “What?”

He shoves his phone in my face, the selfie he took with the psychic yesterday is posted on social media with over half a million likes. He swipes away and a lot of his tag is filled with news outlets and fan accounts spamming the picture. He pulls it back to read a heading: “Harry Styles visits Psychic for ideas on his next album. There’s also Harry Styles rumored to be connected to the Occult...I don’t know what that means. Psychic tells all on Harry Styles reading.”

“How did that picture circulate?” I rub my eyes and sit up beside him. “And where is all of this coming from?”

“She has a Twitter, and she posted the picture.” He shows me, it’s there with the caption A handsome face showed up to my booth at the Bryant Park Market tonight. Get your future told, 5pm to 9pm 7 days a week.

I can’t help but laugh, she was a business woman and she really took the opportunity to sell her service.

“It’s not funny Y/N,” Harry looks furious so I cover my mouth and squint at his screen as he scrolls. A ton of people are responding asking about his future or what he came there for. Amongst them, she responds to only one person: His love life was involved.

My jaw drops, “That’s such a lie! She read me my love life, and life lines!”

“I told you she was a fraud,” Harry jerks the phone back to him.

“She lied for sales, but doesn’t mean she didn’t tell the truth yesterday.”

“If she lied about this she lied about it all and you wasted $10. She only talked about your love life, not mine...”

I remember her words, my second love was very close...could she have meant...

I glance at Harry and he seemed to have followed the same train of thought because we lock eyes, his probably just as wide as mine.

“D’you think?” he says just as I say “Was she...?”

We immediately burst out laughing as the tension comes to a head and bubbles over in a safe trickle.

“Is that what she was trying to say?” I say when I’ve finally caught my breath, my stomach hurt from laughing this hard.

“I guess when she said close she meant close,” Harry’s flat on his back from laughing. “Quite literal.”

“And you were calling her out on being so vague.”

“I’ve got to give it to her,” he shuts his phone off and throws it onto the covers between us, releasing the annoyance. “She’s a good businesswoman.”

“I was thinking the same thing but I thought you might kill me if I said that,” I admit.

We lay on the rumpled covers in silence, I think about everything else she said. The potential of it all is tarnished by the idea of Harry being my second love, for life. It was so ridiculous, unless by love she meant the way I love him now. As my best friend. Our lives were so different, there was no way it could ever work. Not to mention...he was my best friend since forever.

“Have you ever thought about it?” Harry asks out of the blue.

“Thought about what?” I prop myself on my elbow.

“Us, like...the way she predicted?”

“Together together?” I can’t help but laugh. “No never, you’re my best friend!” I recognize the flash of hurt so I backtrack a little. “No offense Harry, I love you but could you imagine?”

“I have,” he says it so quietly as I lay back down. “What?” I ask. He shrugs, “I’m surprised you haven’t. We’ve been friends since...we were 7. You’re saying you never thought about it?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Actually I haven’t. When...what did you think about?”

“I dunno,” he fiddles with his rings. “Like for school dances, when I didn’t have a date I thought about asking you as more than a friend...thought about where that could lead. Or every time you had your heart broke. I wanted to take the pain away and just show you what you deserved.”

“Harry I...” it was sweet, what he was saying. But he never gave a single clue about it the entire time we grew up. He was always chasing girls who looked nothing like me, so I always thought that’s what his type was. Never did I think about anything more with him.

“Not-not recently though,” he forces a laugh. “Just when we were kids.”

“That’s sweet Harry. I had no idea.”

He shrugs, and sits up.

“No seriously I...that’s so sweet. But just so you know, you have shown me what a good man can be. Just by being the best friend ever.”

“Aw,” he swipes my cheek as he gets up. “That’s cute. I don’t know if I’ve done such a good job when you’ve only dated knobs.”

I could recognize his defense mechanism--turning it into a big joke. But he leaves the room before I can call him out and I’m left sitting in the mess of what he’d just told me. It’s not that it was awkward or a bad thing, but suddenly it felt tense and the tension triggered an anxious feeling in my chest.

I decide to get out of my room and find my roommate cleaning up the remains of her broken mug. I offer to clean the spill as she dresses to go out for her run. Helping her distracts me, and when I hear Harry leave the bathroom I lock myself in, and try some breathing exercises to clear the anxiety creeping up. When I realize I was trying to avoid Harry, I scold myself. This was ridiculous and funny! Harry wanted to ask me out when we were kids, it was cute, and that was it. The psychic was a fake anyway, nothing she said meant anything.

I head back to my room where Harry’s made the bed. I change into trousers and my favourite fisherman sweater, and find him having coffee at our small kitchen table with his phone on speaker as he talks to someone. His legs barely fit underneath, so they’re sprawled to the side. He’s still shirtless, and my attention snags on his torso.

I shake myself out of my thoughts as I bump into the kitchen island, and glance up to see that although he was talking to the person on the phone, his eyes had been on me...while my eyes were on his abs. Oh god, I cringe. I try to act casual, mouthing if he wanted breakfast but he shakes his head and points to the call he’s having.

I make myself a toast and try to ignore what just happened but it only adds to the tension from this morning. When he gets off his call he brings his cup up to the sink.

“I think I need another cup.”

“Be my guest,” I move aside. “You sure you don’t want breakfast?”

“Are you going to feed me avocado flax seed quinoa toast?” he teases.

“There’s no quinoa.” I correct, crossing my arms. “But...yes.”

“I’ll take this banana,” he holds the lone banana on the counter. “I’ve got to be in East Harlem by noon, that’s what the call was about.”

“Aw,” I hated saying goodbye. “Are you busy the rest of your stay?”

“I can make it back here,” he says.

“Do whatever you need to do,” I say. “I’m used to being discarded after you hang out with me in the city.”

“I don’t do that!” he reaches behind me to slot his cup in and set the machine to grind his beans. I can smell my shampoo on him, he must’ve showered. “If you want me back, you can just say that.”

The morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen window leaves no room for shadows; the shift in the mood is clear as the daylight streaming in. Or maybe I was reading too much into his words.

“I always want you back,” I look up to his height now that he’s standing so close, and the kitchen tightens further.

We’re stuck in a tableau; with my back against the fridge looking up at him as he gazes down with a curious expression. My mind grows blank the longer I stare. No one says a word, the sound of beans grinding the only noise in the kitchen.

My best friend in the whole world looks torn standing in front of me like this, and as my senses slowly rush back I realize that even if my expression doesn’t show it...I was torn. Because out of nowhere, all I can think about are all the questions I ever shoved away in the dark: what would it feel like if I kissed him right now? And what would have happened to us if he had asked me out to our school dance? Would we still be best friends? Would we have cut each other out? How many universes were we still good together like this? How many universes were we good together as more than this?

An urge to touch his face, make sure this was real, takes over me. But as soon as my fingers brush his cheek he snaps out of his trance and stumbles back like I’d burned him.

He forces a laugh. “I really do need that coffee.”

“Right,” I turn to the machine to put the grinds into their slot but I yank too hard and the freshly ground coffee flies out towards me. “Shit!”

“What happ-” Harry takes one look at what’s happened and turns away, his shoulders shaking.

“I can see you right in front of me laughing!” I shout. “Help me!”

“It’s all over you Y/N,” he turns around, tears in his eyes. “Give me this, I’ll put it far away from you.” He takes the remaining grinds and sets it down. I brush away what’s closest to my eyes so I can see and try to shake it off my sweater but they stick to the fibers of the knit.

“Great,” I grumble. “This is dry clean only.”

“It’s in your hair,” he runs his fingers through the strands that hang over my shoulder. I shake my head to dislodge the grinds; his fingers brush my neck away and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Uhm, that should be most of it.”

“It’s not out of this sweater,” I pout. “Screw dry clean, why did I think I could buy dry cleaning clothes?”

“I can drop it off on the way out today?” he offers.

“That means you’re coming back to drop it off to me?!” I ask hopefully.

His expression softens, “Y/N I’m coming back to your flat. I promise.”

“He promises!” I shout. Even though things were a bit awkward this morning, I got to spend more time with my hard-to-catch best friend and for that I was over the moon.

“We could also try to vacuum the sweater?” Harry suggests.

“So you don’t have to come back with dry clean?” I tease. “I’m not letting you get out of your promise, let me give it to you before you change your mind.” I tug my top off and ball it up, shoving it in his hands. It falls to the floor when he doesn’t hold it.

“Hello?” I look up and he’s a deer in the headlights. “Harry...”

“I can’t do this right now,” he takes a step back. I get the sweater from the ground and hold it out to him again.

“Do you want to wipe the kitchen floor with the sweater too? Take it!” I sigh. “Harry are you really acting so chaste about seeing a girl in her bra?”

“It’s-” he decides to stop mid-word. “You’re not just any girl Y/N, I’ve already made it clear.”

Now it’s my turn to stare--he hadn’t made it clear. “You said you only felt something when you were younger...”

“And you believed me?”

I realize I didn’t, but I wanted to believe him so I hadn’t questioned it. “Well it’s not the first time you’ve seen me in a bra. Can you take the damn sweater?” 

“Yeah I can I’m just...” he seems to calm down a bit, enough to step towards me and take it. “I didn’t have to face this conflicted feeling in me if I didn’t see you often. I can just be the best friend. But now, with the whole psychic thing and you in--like this in your kitchen and I--I’m remembering how much I just want to...”

“Kiss me,” I say.

“Yeah...” he looks away.

“No, I’m telling you to kiss me.” I clarify. His expression would’ve made me laugh if my heart wasn’t beating so fast. I couldn’t believe I was being this impulsive.

“Really? You’re not just saying that cuz of this morning?”

“Fine,” I step out of his reach and cross my arms to hide my shaking hands. “If you don’t want to kiss me-”

He pulls me back too quickly and I bump into his chest. “I never said that.” He says in a tone I’d never heard from him before, it’s serious and sexy and it sends tingles through my body. I press myself up against him and he finally, finally, kisses me. Every bit of tension and anxiety the day had built up releases in the single moment his lips cover mine.

How had I waited this long?

The kiss is gentle, delicate like he’s still not entirely sure I want the same thing he does. I show him I do by using my tongue to open his mouth slowly and the hesitation disappears immediately. We’re a fighter jet taking off from there; I don’t know where I end and where he begins as he walks me to the kitchen island and lifts me onto it, our limbs tangling together, His hands roam down the side of my body, but he stays in the safe zones until I unclasp my bra.

“Oh hell no,” my roommate’s voice interrupts us from behind. I hold my bra close and turn. She stands at the entryway, shaking her head. “Not here. Not on our kitchen island. You two have a room literally 10 feet away...”

“Oops,” I say quietly which seems to set Harry off. My roommate is still shaking her head but I see the smile on her face. I’d caught her hooking up on multiple occasions so it wasn’t anything new. But I didn’t do this often. I jump down, apologizing to her. “Harry’s going to clean the coffee off the floor...I-I’ll find a shirt.”

“Mhm,” she closes her bedroom door and I look over at Harry who’s crouching on the floor in tears.

“This is all your fault!” I whisper but he tugs me down to where he is and holds my face as he kisses me.

“I know you two aren’t behind the island,” my roommate’s voice comes out again. I stay there as her footsteps move to the bathroom and the door closes behind her.

“I hate you,” I skirt out of his reach, and rush to my room yelling another sorry as I head back and find a top. Harry appears in my room as I put it on.

“I guess that was a good time for her to walk in on before it got too far?” he still has a stupid grin on his face.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” my cheeks were burning and even more so that Harry was elated.

“I’ve actually got to head out now.”

I pout but he kisses my pout instead. He promises he’ll be back in the evening and I let him go with one more kiss, my mind catching up with everything that just happened.

Oh my god.

***

It’s nearly 8 by the time I’m done running all my errands--taking holidays off for work was usually a good decision for me. I had a big family and picking up all the holiday bits before I flew back home was always a big job. I take an Uber home, I couldn’t handle a 40 minutes trip back home carrying everything home on the subway.

I call out to my roommate when I get in but she doesn’t respond. I check her door and it’s open and dark, the bathroom is also empty. She must have evening plans.

I open my door to a surprise. Harry is sprawled on my bed. He jerks awake when I settle my bags down.

“Y/N?” he squints as I turn the light on.

“How did you get in here?” I shrug my coat off.

“Y’roommate let me in before she left,” he rubs his eyes. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep...I had a whole thing planned.”

I’d gone over the whole morning during my errands, surprised and excited and nervous about this new step for us. But I continued to think about what the psychic said, our love lines extended alongside my life line. Even though there wasn’t much comfort or trust in a psychic who used a photo opp as a marketing opp, what she said had come true. And I put my faith in that, calming my nerves about this new step potentially ruining our friendship forever.

“Was that okay?” Harry sits up. “She didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Oh no that’s fine,” I unwrap my scarf and stand at the foot of my bed. “I really wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”

“Of course I would,” he reaches for my hand. “I wouldn’t leave you after this morning, I’m not that flighty.”

“Well we never really got to talk about it,” I say as I sit down. I’d texted him during the day but it never showed he read it, I wasn’t sure how to read into that; finding him passed out on my room meant he was probably on the go all day.

“Are you okay with this?” he says with such concern, I nearly tear up. This was making me way too emotional.

“I am,” I smile at my best friend in the whole world. “I just don’t want to go too fast.”

“We won’t,” he promises as he holds his arms out. I lean in towards his solid chest and he wraps his arms around me. I feel his breath on my cheek, then his lips in my hair. “I’m yours for eternity Y/N, we can take it as slow or fast as you want.”

It was a good thing to say, and I believe him entirely.

We eventually untangle ourselves to get food in us, and even though things are different, they’re also not. We still pick out the same parts of our food to give the other person, we still talk the same shit and laugh at the same jokes. But his hands grasps mine and his thumb brushes over my knuckles absentmindedly. His eyes stay steady on me as I talk like I’m someone new he’s exploring. We kiss after dinner, but we also load the dishwasher and laugh about the one time I’d managed to burn soup from a can. Eventually we end in my bedroom, where we lay together, our conversation growing quieter by the minute, the space between us growing smaller.

And even though we’d slept like this a hundred times before, it’s different now. I can feel it in every atom of my being, I was his and he was mine. And I don’t know how long it’s been like this for it to feel so easy, but accepting it was a no brainer, like accepting the sky was blue or the sun was hot. I remember the advice the psychic gave, I was following it: living the life I had around me even though it wasn’t the life I thought I would have.

There were a million things Harry and I had to figure out to make this work--I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But I did know that it was right, it was true, and it was going to be forever.

The future may not be crystal clear, but my future with this man was.