#my mum rang as the food was being brought in and on top of the pain from the drain

[aliwonderland]

because I only got brought up to the ward last night, I wasn’t able to order my food, which means im given whatever the person that was in this bed before ordered. which is fish peas and potatoes all covered in white sauce. I’d eat the potatoes but they have sauce on them too. it’s going to be the same story come dinner time so guess I’ll fucking starve

[angelisverba]

thinkin’ bout you

in which harry owns a flower shop and has a major crush on a girl who comes in to buy flowers every once in a while (and he’s too shy to ask for her number) 

word count: 17.3k

paring: florist!h and y/n

warnings: just some pinning and lustful yearning. m for mature...

author’s note: i’ve been working on this forever. not to pick fav’s but i think florist!h comes second to sl23... hes just so.......well, you’ll see!!

*    *    *    *    *    *

When Harry was given the option to go on a playdate with his car-loving and dirty-nailed schoolmates or spending the weekend at his nan’s house, he would often pick the latter. 

He preferred to spend his afternoons frolicking with her Siamese kitty in her wild-flower filled garden, sunbathing in the open grass, or napping on a quilted blanket under the large, round oak tree, with the kitty nestled into his tummy, keeping him warm. When he woke in the arms of his nan as she carried him inside the house for a glass of cool lemonade, he bore a band of pink sunburn over his button nose, and the blue and white striped Mickey shirt was sticking to the areas where his furry friend had provided an extra heat. 

So, it was safe to say that from the start, Harry’s tastes weren’t what could be considered ‘average’ or ‘normal’ or ‘straight’ for a heterosexual male of his age in current society. 

Not that he ever valued those opinions, but their impressions rang in the back of his loving head when the women who he brought to the comfort of his home made hurtful ‘joking’ comments on how ‘peculiar’  his choice of decor was or giving him prolonged strange looks before shaking their heads and yanking their clothes off so that they landed in a forgotten heap in some unimportant corner of his room. 

Granted, he still got a good shag, but it wasn’t enough to fulfill his desires regarding any actions associated with relationships. He wanted someone warm and soft and kind. Someone who wouldn’t judge his home, his music choices, his clothing, or anything else about him. A girlfriend, not a fuck. 

Long ago, he’d stopped caring about what others said about him. Adopting this mindset had given him some of the happiest and healthiest moments of his life (albeit occasionally, doubts merged with the ghastly shadows of his loneliness). Business at his flower shop increased as his charm increased with positivity, and a new life within him bloomed like a baby rose bud when he accepted that being single was okay. The ribbons of his bouquets bouncing with an added umf and the mist that landed on his skin when he changed the water in the flower buckets only enhanced the golden hue of his skin. 

Harry even took to renovating his home a bit. 

 Coincidentally, his apartment was located on the floor above his flower stop, and contained a significant amount of singular flowers in vases or bouquets in empty corners to prove it. An array of pastel colors smeared on the once blank walls. Bambi pink in his bedroom, sage green in his kitchen, and a French blue in his living room. The couch was a suede papaya three-seater with black and white checkered pillows, and the coffee table was an emerald-tiled piece standing on top of a geometric lavender carpet, a soft contrast against the dark oak of his floorboards. Harry’s taste in pop-culture, art, and literature was displayed on the frames hanging off his walls. Pictures and posters of his favorite pieces like Matisse’s Blue Nudes and Goldfish and The Dance II. An enhanced, enlarged photo of maraschino cherries and a raven haired pin-up girl. Another glass table by the end of the couch held a silver candlestick and a small statue.

Sometimes, the miniature Greek statue he bought at a thrift store of a man with his nakedness pure and unobscured to the viewers' eyes made his dick bloat against the seams of his pants. If he stared at it for too long, his eyes drawn to the softened cock between thighs that looked so flesh-like even though it was carved out of some clay or ceramic material, his mind would travel to sensual, honey-red places that he hadn’t been in so long. Harry’s imagination explored- as cheesy as it sounds- the sexual aspects of the male genitalia, and therefore his own sexual expeditions and how much he missed giving or receiving a good fuck. More often than not, he ended up with himself in his fist, forehead sparkling with perspiration under the candle lights in his room as his thighs and abdomen clenched with every buck of his yearning hips. 

The doorknob of his room was in the shape of an eye, the iris colored a brilliant blue. His king bed- no, frame, just a minimalist white base, pushed up against the wall with two tables on either side, both of them loaded articulately with vintage trinkets and ceramic ring trays shaped like seashells to hold his jewelry. His bedsheets were a stylish combination of pastel colors; lilac comforter, mint and sky pillows. Previously, they had been snow white sheets with strawberry print, but a woman he brought over said they looked like the sheets her five-year-old niece had. 

He changed them the week after that.

On the windowsill, a pot in the shape of a white, blue-eyed kitty with vines of string of hearts kissing the floor. A mirror in the shape of a heart with a pink trim besides the lightswitch, above his brown dresser. In the corner, a bookshelf stuffed with books that spilled over the seams, and perpendicular to it, the home of his pet chameleon, Owen (he wanted a cat, but when he went to the pet store and saw the dehydrated creature, he couldn’t leave him there). A 16 x 16 x 30 inch tank filled with a branch that cut across halfway. It was full of all the things he might need, maybe even too much of it, but it didn’t matter because when Harry was home Owen spent most of his time hanging off the collars of his shirts or snuggled in the ruffles of his hooded sweatshirt on his shoulder. The small, color changing friend adored his owner, and only morphed into a mild red color when Harry didn’t feed him more mango. 

The renovations occurred in his bathroom; a cherry-red covering the walls because it looked boring before (at least in his opinion).  The gold piping of the sink accentuated nicely with the darker color, and the sun seemed brighter when it streamed in through the window above his ceramic claw-footed tub. Owen particularly liked the misty showerhead stall in the corner, and as long as he kept his eyes to himself, Harry didn’t mind it if his green friend wrapped around the showerhead and enjoyed the mimicked tropical atmosphere. 

For awhile now, it had been just him and his chameleon (and maybe his mum’s cat if she was going out of town and needed a sitter) but he didn’t mind it. 

He got to meet new people everyday within the parameters of H’s Garden, and they all tended to overshare when it came to buying a bouquet. ‘My wife just had our son, want to see a picture?’ or ‘my boyfriend and I have our anniversary on Saturday’ and even ‘my sister had plastic surgery so me and my dad need something that says ‘congrats you look like Kim Kardashain now’ how ‘bout it?’ 

Stories ranged from sweet, to grotesque, to sad, to funny, and sometimes even evil- Harry didn’t like customers that gave flowers as a ‘fuck you’. He thought it was a waste of beauty and sacrifice. Flowers were living things that had their lives cut short in order to provide momentary satisfaction and life long memories to the receiver, not bitter feelings of revenge. Although it was still business, it pained him that such a pretty arrangement be misused. It was one of the cons of his work. He created what he considered to be masterpieces, and had no control over where they would end up, whether it be as a centerpiece for a candlelit dinner, or in the trash after the apology for a strong argument hadn’t been enough. 

However, Harry couldn’t deny that he didn’t love his job, because he did. 

When he turned 16, he’d determined that he wanted a peaceful life with a job that wouldn’t bore him. He wanted to be as stress free as possible, with his spirituality as a prominent highlight in his lifestyle. When he turned 18, he had determined that he wanted to be a florist, and began to save up to open his own shop with the occasional help of his friends and sister. He refused to take anything from his mother because he wanted to be the one giving her gifts and money and everything good after all of her sacrifices in raising him. Call him a momma’s boy. Harry loved his mother. 

Online seminars and college classes became his best friend, teaching him everything he needed to know about accounting, stocks, and how to keep his business going. He was a businessman first, florist second. During the slow seasons (the start of winter and an awkward half-week between summer and spring) he relied on his investments to triple-ensure that he had enough money to stay afloat. 

On his 22nd birthday, as a gift to himself, he signed the lease to the building that housed all of the pretty plants in temporary buckets full of flower food and water, and hired a graphic designer to design the cursive, golden letters that spelled out the name of his shop above the front door. 

 Now, three years later, he lived as happy as can be. 

And he wasn’t lonely anymore. 

Well, if you wanted to be technical, his relationship status was still a checkmark over the box labeled ‘single’, but his heart couldn’t be fluttering any harder at the sight of one of his regular customers, and she was there, creeping around in his brain to keep him company. 

She was the complete opposite of every girl he’d ever been with. She was sweet, kind, funny, and didn’t judge him for the way he dressed, or his profession. In fact, they bonded over things that previous women had… slyly berated him for. The color of his nails, the lace of his collar, the pattern of his flared pants,  and even the sheep on his baby blue sweater vest.  

She stole his heart the moment she walked through his door with a soft smile on her face, a sparkling gleam in her warm eyes, and placed it in her pocket the moment she said, “it smells lovely in here!”

Harry, awestruck and blushing because well, she was pretty and wore a shade of purple that somehow made her hair look so soft. Two strands of hair were pinned at the back of her head, essentially keeping the rest of it away from her face save for the few baby wisps that rested gently against her cheeks like a lover’s caress. The stuttering, stumbling cupid’s-bow-struck fool replied with, “thank you. It would be my pleasure to help you with anything you’d like,” and that had been his name, signed on the dotted line of a soul contract. Only she was not the devil. She was an angel. 

But even then, it wouldn’t matter. If she was the devil, if she was an angel, something in between or something new entirely he wouldn’t care because he was half gone for her already. 

“In that case,” she smiled, and Harry’s heart sang a melody it never had before. It was like the sun beamed from the spaces between her teeth and tickled the fuzzy spot beneath his earlobe. She had the most amazing voice, tranquil and clear and ethereal. “I just moved into a new apartment and wanted the place to feel like home. I thought maybe flowers would give it a little life.” 

He vividly remembers that the color of her cheeks changed to that of what is called a ‘blush’, but he didn’t know if it was a trick under the light, or a product of his wistful imagination. Her fingers gently skimmed the petals of a rose from it’s bucket near her hip, and one of the straps of the tote bag on her shoulder disrespectfully dropped away from her shoulder. He wanted to simultaneously rush over and fix it for her, and yell at the inanimate object for not being grateful of the fact that it had the opportunity to cling to her shoulder.

But, before either of these inner-conflicts met a sound resolve, her delicate fingers righted what was once wrong, and Harry cleared his throat, embarrassed because he’d stared for a little too long. He wanted so badly to ask for her name and how she liked her eggs in the morning, but instead he said, “there’s nothing like a bit of something pretty to brighten your day. Did you have something specific in mind?”

He hoped that the meaning of his words wasn’t caught on her, or that would be totally embarrassing and ‘loser’-like. 

When she walked out the door with a content smile on her lips, his own heart was beating faster than the flapping of a hummingbird’s tender wings. He was sure that he had never laid eyes on a pair of lips like hers, neither the feeling that blossomed in his chest at the thought that she might be smiling just for him to see and enjoy. 

Of course, it was a silly crush. One that clawed and gripped onto his sweaty palms with no sign of letting go. Maybe, Harry thought, it was because he hadn’t wet his wick in so long, and the interaction he’d had with her had sparked irrational, poem-inspiring feelings within the love cavern of his ribs. Because how could he fall head over heels with someone he didn’t even know? Surely, the swarm of hormone-pumped butterflies in his stomach was the beginning of a dead-end infatuation. 

Right? 

Harry went that entire day, appalled at the apparent angel he had the fortune of being in the presence of in her short fall from the tender heavens. He wondered where she placed the flowers she bought (an arrangement he was particularly proud of, full of lilac, delicate stems of lavender, and puffs of baby’s breath wrapped with a white bow) and where that tiny extension of him was. At the entrance of her home, right below the place she rested her hand against as she tugged her shoes off? At the center of her table? Maybe besides her bed? Where she would see the purple petals and white of him as he wrapped it every time she woke up or went to bed? He hoped- as much as it was a romantic thought- that it wasn’t the last one. He’s been so awkward, so pink. A blush on his cheeks he hadn’t remembered being there since the time he yelped, startled, at the unexpected pain of a tattoo needle, the artist pointedly peeved. Acting like such a boy. 

Right before crawling up the steps of his apartment, heart still bleeding with love-blood from the deadly tip of Cupid’s arrows, he made himself a mini version of the bouquet he’d made her, and placed it at the center of his tiled coffee table. 

*********

A few days trickled by, and the memory of her face drifted in and out of his mind like a giant sway of fabric slowly billowing in the wind. He was just so… struck by a slab of awe, stunned by her kind of beauty. Natural, the kind that hooks you in it’s purity, like the golden beams streaming in through transparent curtains on a warm spring afternoon. 

Her strawberry lips curved elegantly under her nose, and displayed a smile that leaked some sort of heady drug into the air because the air was sweet when he breathed it in. And when he handed the bundle of flowers over to her, the pads of her delicate fingers skimmed the rough ridges of his knuckles. He wondered immediately what kind of moisturizer she used, and if it smelled like honey or lavender or peaches. She smelled sweet. Sweeter than all of the flowers in his colorful soul shop put together. The colors that belong to her, on her person and worn by her, were more captivating than any of the tones that painted the petals on his plants. 

Owen got a kick out of this whole ordeal, though. Harry’s passionate mood had him divulging in munching and nibbling on things that tasted the way he felt; ambrosial, fresh and pure. It resulted in the purchasing of endless amounts of fruit, with many bites given to the tiny chameleon. Mangoes, strawberries, oranges, grapes, pears (Asian pears, if the store carried them, they were Harry’s favorite), peaches and guavas. The sudden craving for fruit might be explained as just a casual craving, but deep deep down inside, Harry knew that it was because he wanted to replicate the feeling that coursed through his golden veins when she giggled at something she happened to find funny. 

He wished that he had caught her name. The girl had paid in cash (and left a five dollar tip Harry fawned over), so he couldn’t have read it on her card, and he was halfway between charming and awkward that he didn’t even think of asking for it until the minute the door closed behind her, bells tinkling in announcement of her exit. He wished for a hundred different things, but he was not the type to live in regret. Not anymore. So after about a week of floundering in her memory, he meditated for an hour, tropical incense on one of his bedside tables, and cleared his mind as best he could. 

The next morning, he did the same thing. Woke up with heavy limbs, plopped himself down on his blue mat and stretched in various positions, his white boxers hanging low on his hips. His lips and eyes were sticky with sleep, and the back of his nose ached with cold air that he must’ve breathed in throughout the night after forgetting to close the window (again) but the pleasurable twinge of stretching aches between his joints were the perfect way to start his day. They urged his mind to transform into the still surface of water, clear and collected from any unproductive-pinning thoughts towards a girl he would most likely never see again. 

Even his clothes reflected his refreshed mindset.

Harry donned his favorite pair of flared  trousers in an earthy brown color, nestled snugly on his slender hips and around his thighs. The tight fit accentuated the way his back tapered into his waist, glutes shapely and sculpted. A maroon sweater vest that had a teddy bear embroidered on the middle of his chest, the small latte-toned stuffed animal seemingly childish, but on him it only directed attention to the spotlight daze of the velvety heart sheltered underneath his breathless plate. Underneath, a mustard long-sleeve shirt with tiny cherries printed on them. Some straight, some tilted or lopsided. His shoulders and biceps were hidden in the floofy bunches of cloth, anonymity given to the true thickness of his ink slathered skin. 

He looked like a corduroy dream. A thick milkshake of patterns and colors, but he managed to pull it off.

A tiny gold hoop on his right ear gleamed under the morning sun coming in through the windows and a pearl necklace rested against the downy skin of his throat. Slender fingered tipped with a coat of pure white, with his ring fingers accented in a shimmery pink. Chunky rings adorning the base of his digits; a silver rose, a band of dancing teddy bears (a running theme with him), two gold rings with his initials H and S on one hand, and a simple ruby stud from his graduating class. 

He looked good, he knew that he looked good, and was ready to begin a bright, healthy, non-pretty-girl-thought-polluted day. Even the old woman had pinched his cheek whom he had been assisting- a regular-had said he looked like a proper ‘nice boy’ along with ‘when are you going to her a lovely girl to help you run this place, Harry?’. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he had momentarily sworn off women until his broken sentiments healed, and they had a long way to go. 

In the middle of wrapping a smashing set of tulips and fern stems with a cherry red bow, the bells adorning the top of the door frame dinges, announcing the entrance of another pleasant customer and giving passage to a gust of chilly air. Harry looked up to greet the customer with his usual pleasantries of ‘welcome! I’ll be with you in a moment!’, but the words died on his throat in a desperate hussle, just as the little mermaid had given up her voice to meet her gallant prince.  

It was his own personal little slice of heaven presented to him on the black and white checkered floors of his shop. Hair loose against her shoulders again, eyes cast downwards to inspect a bucket of fresh daisies that tickled the space above her bare knees. How she could wear a skirt in this biting weather, he didn’t know, and it partially prevented him from continuing his pursuit of admiring her because the first thought his caring mind jumped too was, ‘is she cold? And if so, does she need a sweater? Because I will gladly give her one.’ His second thought, however, was ‘how could someone be that beautiful?’. The third was something along the lines of ‘all my yoga has gone to shit, and I’m okay with that’. 

He cleared his throat, tightened the bow around the stems of the flowers in his hands and said, “I’ll be with you in a moment, love!” His head bowed, looking at his work because he wasn’t sure he could afford the medicals for the paralysis that was sure to take over his meek self if they made eye contact so soon. Harry needed a moment of homeostasis, his soul adjusting to her dulcet presence. 

The woman he was assisting, Edna, spoke, drawing him out of his daze, but he had been so deeply in thought that he had not heard what she said. 

“What was that?” He asked her. He grabbed Kraft paper from the roll by the register to wrap up her arrangement. 

“The girl. You like her?” She was smiling at him, wagging a finger the way his nan used to do when she caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. “Don’t lie to me, I recognize that look. I’ve given and received that look many times throughout my life.” 

The woman was not wrong. With age, comes wisdom, Harry thought, smiling to himself at being caught. A dimple carves itself into his cheek, nestling onto the space above the corner of his mouth as if he had no choice in the matter. The apples of his cheeks were shadowed with a dusky pink, and the tip of his nose was twitching like a rabbit when it stood on its rear and sniffed the air, only he was coy after just being caught and wanted to avoid the question as much as possible. 

“I’ve got no idea what y’talking about,” he chuckled, keeping his voice low so that the intriguing stranger in the store didn’t hear that their topic of discussion was her. He moved over to the register to ring her up, and even slid in a discount he applied to customers he liked. 

“Next time I come in,” Edna said, passing Harry her debit card, “I hope to hear that you got her number, dear. Don’t let these opportunities pass you up. Life is short. And who knows? She could be the one.” Harry gave her the card back after charging her, and handed her the flowers, too. All the while Edna was grinning at him, shaking her head like she knew something he didn’t. 

“Take care, Edna. And don’t forget to change the water every 2 days with the flower packets I placed at the stems,” he reminded her, sweetly wiggling his red-lacquered nails at her retreating woman as butterflies awakened in his stomach in a furious flood of nerves. The girl was looking around, her hands hovering over the up-turned faces of a bundle of lively sunflowers, browsing and quietly humming to herself as she waited. 

There was no backing out of this, even if he wanted to. And he didn’t! He didn’t want to back out. The girl was a customer, and he would have to approach her no matter what. But she was so pretty it was also intimidating. He doesn’t remember ever being this nervous while approaching someone, especially one he harbored feelings for. His heart was pounding so loud, he was sure it was audible. 

“Hello,” he wanted so badly to add ‘love’ at the end of his greeting. “Are y’finding everything a’right?” He asked her, his hands wringing themselves, palms moist with sweat from his unyielding need to impress her. The pink tip of his tongue poked out to swipe across his full bottom lip, and soon after that his teeth sunk down into it, nibbling with uncertainty. Harry made sure that he was standing straight, body aligned to face hers because in that psychology course he took once, he learned that it was a subconscious tactic to engage interest and pleasant replies to attempts at wooing another. 

At the sound of his voice, the girl jumped, startled at the sudden vibrations of Harry’s husky voice. Her delicate feet, he noticed, skittered on the floor from her tiny jump, and her doe eyes widened, shouldered rising and falling at a quicker pace than before from the new rush of light fear. When she realizes that it’s just him her hand flattered over the base of her neck and her collarbone in attempts to soothe her racing heart. 

“M’s sorry,” he whispers, his hand clamping over his mouth, and then lowering to his chin when he speaks again, “didn’t mean to scare y’love.” This time he can’t restrict himself. It comes so naturally, like the endearment was meant for her, and when a flush covers the bridge of her nose his first instinct is to coo at her for looking so cute. The second is a surge of guilt for having scared her to such an extent. 

“It’s okay,” she says, a little out of breath. The blush on her face was partly because she was embarrassed at her own reaction, while the other was that she had let herself act so freely and uncoordinated in front of someone that looked like him. Handsome and sweet and eyes so green they refreshed you upon first glance. Like the cool burn of water going into a mouth that had just chewed a stick of minty gum. “I want to buy these flowers.” 

God help him. Her voice alone was enough to make him melt. The lilts and melodies of her voice swarming all four of the ventricles in his heart with warmth, and every blood cell that passed contained a glowing heat, buzzing with her energy. 

She points to the sunflowers, her gaze lingering on them with longing. A soft smile toying on her mouth, and Harry could see the tendons in her throat stretch as she inhaled to add another thought to her sentence, “Do you sell vases by any chance?” The girl looked at him shyly, her eyelashes almost twinkling as she blinked, and his heart soared, “I had a really nice one in the shape of a big Coca-Cola bottle, and I accidentally knocked it over, so now I have nothing to put them in.” 

Harry is incredibly enamoured by subconscious gestures that take over her hands as she speaks, fiddling as if the vase she spoke about was in her hands, all in one piece before it was broken. He’s quiet throughout her tiny ramble, listening and taking note of her enticing antics. She’s looking down at the floor or the flowers or her hands, and when her eyes dance over to his steady gaze, “I’m rambling aren’t I?” she murmurs bashfully. 

“No, no it’s a’right. I can look in the back for something if y’like?” He suggested, arrowing a thumb to the ‘back’ he mentioned. “Did y’want anything in particular?”  

“Oh, I don’t wanna be a troubling customer!” She squeaked, concerned with becoming a nuisance she didn’t want to be. 

“Y’not a bother, love. M’promise. I’ll go look f’you. What color did y’have in mind?” He asked her, tone calm and soothing to reiterate his sentiment. She was not a bother. The only thing about her that bothered him was the fact that he did not know her name, and even that was his own fault for not asking her. 

His hands rest on his hips, tattooed cross momentarily hidden by the bunch of his sweater vest  as he waits for her to respond, his eyes locked on her mouth, her own tongue subtly licks her lips, adding a sparkly sheen to it that only drove him crazy. Ever the jilted fool, his mind jumps to what it would feel like to kiss her, or what it would feel like if she kissed him in other places. What fruits she tasted like, and what kind of kisser she was. A timid one? With a patient mouth waiting to be broken open with the force of his own? Frugal? Opening her mouth and giving him everything she had to offer. 

“Something pink, please. If you have it.” That smile again. One that told a million apologies it didn’t owe, with her eyes pinching at the corners with whatever nonsense culpability she felt. Her voice was sweet, Harry thought, like wind chimes on a summer morning. 

Feeling guilty for allowing such dirty thoughts to gallop through his mind when she was so… so pure. Like an angel. Even her way of presenting herself was shy and sweet, yet he was thinking about kissing her. Was that perverted? She was a customer he had seen twice, and his mind was already running wild with luscious assumptions; a sunday topped with a red cherry of sensuality. How awfully dirty of him. 

But! But those were not the only thoughts he had. He wanted to ask her what happened to cause her to drop her vase, and where she had bought it. If it was vintage, considering it was a Coca-cola bottle, and if she had any accidents while cleaning up the mess of broken glass. He wanted to hear her thoughts. No, better yet, he just wanted to hear her talk. He wanted to get to know her. To know if she was as nice as she looked. 

“‘Course,” he mumbled, his eyes shamefully downcast to the floor. “Be righ’ back.”

Harry stalked off to ‘the back of the store’. Truth was, there was no back of the store containing vases. There was only a small closet with boxes of items he might need around the store, like flower food, rubber bands, and decorative paper for the bouquets. A crate of bottled water for when he got too lazy to climb up the back stairs and into his home. 

His home. 

Plucking the keys from his pocket, a ring that held a ceramic swan his closest friend Mitch had gifted him with a humble admission of ‘saw this at a thrift store and thought about you, H, I had to buy it’, and five keys: one to the front door of his shop, one to the cash box in the register, one to the mailbox, another to the front door of his apartment, and one to his car. The one to his front door was painted at the head with pastel pink nail polish, so it was easy for him to pick out when he was dead tired after a long day of being on his feet (spunky shoes that he liked to wear sometimes didn’t help ease the ache on his back, and neither did his posture). 

The back door that led to the stairs had locks on both the inside and the outside. A deadbolt and chain on matching sides of the door to ensure comfortable sleep at night, and peaceful work time during the day. Not having to worry about curious children opening doors or nosy customers relieved him. It was a little amatuer, but the door made a loud noise when opened because it wasn’t quite level, and he had a tiny key so he could lock it from the outside, too. 

A loud shucking noise resonated through the store as he pulled the door open, and then again when he closed it behind him. The delicacy of his dainty yet large hands were nearly comical around the tiny golden pin stud that hung from the chain, almost slipping from his hands with nerves as he slid it in place. Harry didn’t think that she was nosy or anything like that, bit if he was going up to give her a vase of his own personal collection, he didn’t want her to find out and feel even more intrusive that she already did. 

He was a huge giver, and upon hearing her say that she broke her flower pot, his mind was already thinking about the perfect one to replace it. It just so happened to be sitting on his shelf with a bundle of dying lavender. Climbing up the stairs (the ache in his thighs was a mere twinge compared to what it was when he first moved here), Harry huffed and thought to himself all the ways he could ask for her name and number. 

Listen, I really like y’and would like to have y’number?”

Do y’wanna have my number so we can go out sometime if y’feel like it?”

“Is it alright if I get y’number so we can go out sometime?”

“Hey, love. What’s y’name?”

Nothing’s making sense to him. The pick up lines he had stored in his head for the rare times he would flirt with a girl were slipping from him. None of them seemed worded right to use with her. Too abrupt or too brisk. Not sweet enough. He wanted to treat her gently and to be worthwhile of her time. Plus, it also had to be smooth enough that it made her forget she was paying him for flowers or it would be awkward. He was a twenty-six man for crying out loud, not a twenty-one year old smile at the bar looking for a good time. This wasn’t a ‘good time’. This was… a courting. An inquiry to a relationship. A rose rose in a candlelit room. 

Harry opened his front door and moved in a quick jog to a table besides his hi-fi that held a translucent pale pink glass, fat at the base before twirling and widening a few inches at the lip. An image of a nude mermaid puffing out at the front like an engraving. Cuddling it into his breast, he grabbed the lavender, speed walked back to his kitchen where his toe banged against the metal of the trashcan as he pressed on the lever to open it. He hissed fuck under his breath and shucked the dead lavender into the bag before turning back to his door, closing it behind him, but not locking it because he didn’t want to keep her waiting. His feet moved quickly down the stairs, the one hand not holding onto the vase cupping a hand over the side of his hips that held his keys so they didn’t make much noise. 

The button on the chain slipped from his fingers a few times from their repeated clamminess, and when he was ready to finally twist the knob, he paused to take a breath and collect himself. Harry ran a hand through his hair, fixed his collar, and dusted off his pants legs. He wanted to look perfect for her. 

“Don’t be stupid,” he murmured to himself. He had a good feeling about this. About her. And if he messed this up because he looked bad or said something weird he would kick himself into a muddy ditch. 

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and calmly walked back, “I’ve got the last one,” he said, tapping the tip of the vase with his pointer finger. It was a lie, right through his teeth, but he was happy to tell it in return for the way she was looking at him in that moment. His eyes rounded out as he approached her, like the curves of hearts that made up the heart-eye emoji, or the puppy-dog face. Just another physical display of his growing affinity towards her. 

“Oh my god!” She said,  “It's so pretty!” The trapped crystals in her irises twinkled with bewilderment at the treasure Harry’s presented her with.  She’s got a smile on her face, and he can’t help but think, ‘wow, she looks like a freshly bloomed white lily’. 

There’s a vintage print hanging in his corridor, a ‘flower language chart’ with different types of flowers and a sentence beneath them describing the messages they send. For example, red carnations= my heart aches for you. The description beneath white lilies reads ‘my love is pure’. 

She asked him if it wasn’t too pricey, and he made up some fake sale he had going on about a hybrid BOGO in which if she bought an arrangement she would get a vase included in her purchase (he added “I’ve got a shipment of new ones coming in an I need the space cleared out before they get here” just to make sure his fib is believable.) And he explains this so shyly. Harry can’t keep his eyes locked on hers because she’s staring at him with an intensity that lets him know she's really listening, and it makes him squirm.  The tips of his fingers tap against the vase, and he’s tripping over his tongue, which is ridiculous because he already talks so slow. 

“I guess I was right in waiting then,” she said casually, waiting for Harry to finish ringing her up. 

His finger froze over the touch screen of the sleek, modern device (he wanted nothing but the best for his store) and listened to the exciting roar of blood through his eardrums at her words. I guess I was right in waiting then? What did that mean? That she was planning on coming back to see him and didn’t? Of course, it could also mean that she was going to buy something else somewhere else, but he couldn’t stop the vine of ripe hope that swelled around his chest. And she looked so apprehensive while saying it. As if she was walking on glass and was looking for cracks as she stepped. As if she was waiting on him to catch on to something.

Harry cleared his throat and looked at her through the corner of his eye, trying to be as discreet as possible as his fingers continued their deliberate work on the screen, “What d’you mean, love?”

“I was going to stop by sooner, but I just got in my head about it,” the girl shrugged, and adjusted the ends of her cardigan so they wrapped around her torso. She had a different bag this time, one of those reusable market bags that was made up of holes, and it was filled with two books and a can of green tea from the vegan store down the street. Harry thinks he can make out one of the titles on one of the spines, which looks suspiciously similar to something that he has on his own shelf. 

“Why would y’get in y’own head about coming to m’flower shop, hmm? It’s hardly that intimidating,” he chuckles to play off the dashes of pink and red that are painting themselves across the bridge of his twitching nose, “I don’t bite, either.” 

And he hopes that his wistfulness isn’t meddling with his vision because he swears that he can see a matching reaction on her own doll face. “I know! I know, it’s just that I can’t help it sometimes. Talking to other people makes me nervous.” 

Harry could coo at her right now. He doesn’t, though. He nods and smiles at her before reading her total out to her, “That I get, too. But y’doing just fine with me, love.” 

Waiting patiently as she digs through her bag for cash, he tries to not stare. However, it’s impossible. His eyes had a mind of their own dragging against the forces of his will to feast on her image again. Her hands and the tip of her nose. The base of her neck and gentle swell of her clavicles. The swoops of hair that hung in a curtain from her shoulder as her head tilted in search, and the how her teeth bit down into her lip in concentration. Harry counted the amount of times her eyelashes met her waterline in those few seconds of comfortable silence. Three. 

“I thought I had cash on me today,” something in her bag clicks, and she pulls out the rectangular card Harry’s become familiar with, holding it out to him between two deft fingers, painted with red hearts on a white base. “I guess I used my last twenty at the organic food store down the street,” she said. 

“It is pretty easy to get lost in there, isn’t it?” He took her card from her, and tried not to make it obvious that he was eager to read her name off of it as he inserted it into the machine. The embossed letters into the plastic read y/n y/l/n, and when he turns back to look at her, he can’t help the smile that spreads across his boyish features.

Y/n. 

Y/n, y/n, y/n.

This is what it must feel to be let in on a secret that’s worth millions of dollars. It must, because Harry’s heart is soaring with a closure he didn’t know he needed. Y/n, y/n. Her name tickled him. Stroked him. Lathered him with the honey smoothness of the beeswax shampoo he bought at that fateful organic store. It was a fitting name. Sometimes, one could tell a person ‘you know, I actually thought you were a Amy or a Jessica’, because their looks and style just didn’t match the strength or modesty of their name. But not y/n. It fit her like a glove. There was no other way to make sense of the way Harry’s brain was thinking. The name was her. 

“What?” Her lips quirk up into a smile and her eyebrows dip in confusion. Why was he looking at her like that? Did she have something on her face? Here she was, opening up to a cute stranger and she had something on her face? This, she thought to herself, is humiliating. Her finger dusted off non-existent crumbs from the corners of her mouth, “do I have something on my face?”

“No! No, no.” Harry’s careful beam simmered down from it’s previous brightness, and his hand nervously filed through the swoop of chocolate curls sitting on his head like a cinnamon roll. “I just think y’name is pretty thas’ all.” 

He murmured the last part so that it was practically incoherent, and lowered his gaze as a searing heat stretching like saran wrap around his head and the divot on the nape of his neck.  Oh, God. He was fucking blushing. Great Harry. A normally favorite among the ladies had been reduced to murmurs and thick, uncoordinated movements. 

Like dropping her card when she piped up again. 

Voice as small and quaint as his had been, "you think my name is pretty?” Her fingers are wrapped around the frail straps of her bag, tight enough that her knuckles were white and Harry was scared that she’d bury her fingernails into her palm. 

“I think y’very pretty.” He whispered back. He can’t even bear to look at her in fear that he’s totally fucked himself over once and for all. His logic was this: what girl wants to be told by the guy they’re buying flowers that they’re pretty after he reads her name from her debit card? Especially one who (if outside female sources are to be believed) dresses “the way my mother did when she was a girl in the seventies”? Jesus, fuck. He must’ve looked ridiculous. 

Harry opened his mouth to backtrack and apologize for being so unorthodox in his workspace, a breath sitting on his tongue with words ready to spew out, but the bell began to chime and it yanks his head from the register to the front and instead he said, “welcome! I’ll be with you in a moment.” 

Flustered and full of regret, the flower connoisseur returned his wired gaze back to y/n, who… was smiling at him? The kind of smile that said ‘oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that. Now please say it again’? Was he… dreaming? Did he have to pinch himself in order to verify that he wasn-

“Thank you... what’s your name?” Y/n looked at the card from his hands and sunk her hand- carefully, as to not get her fingers stuck in any of the tiny holes- and there was another clicking noise before she took her hand back out. That angel-like smear of girlish happiness was still on her, decadently radiating positivity and secret affection. Goodness leaked from the seams of her bones; through the cracks of her breastplate, radiating from her chest to Harry’s. He could feel it now. He could feel that his previous assumptions about her nature were true. She was altruistic and tender, like the inside of a bird’s wing. 

“Harry. M’name’s Harry.” This time, he didn’t hide his happiness. Even his eyes shone with a heightened, clear and sparkly shade of liquid evergreen. The joy that bounced inside of him like ricocheting metal balls in a pin game machine. His slender hand, fawn-skinned and graceful like the legs of a deer, stretched out between them. His mother had taught him that along with the first introduction of his name, a handshake must be present, always. Dipping his head slightly, and his words spongy with love-ditz, Harry rumbled, “Nice to meet you, y/n.”  

She placed her hand in his, and was practically swallowed by only his palm. He curled his fingers around her, thumb and middle finger overlapping around the clammy center of hers. So she was nervous, just as he was. Y/n was trained on their embracing limbs, and he could feel a spot on his neck where the skin palpated from the rush of blood as she observed their entwined digits. Their hands moved up and down, up and down between them for longer than necessary until her chin twitched back up to meet his, and she blinked mawkishly, slowly, like the videos of rehabilitated barn owls Harry sees on his Instagram. 

Then, suddenly, as if she remembered she was not the only one present, y/n jolts upright and shakes her head dazedly. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Harry. I like your nail color,” she added. 

He’s cheesing. A shit-eating grin too big for his face and it carves dimples into the flesh of his cheeks. His name on her tongue had never sounded so appealing, like it was made for her and only her to say. Not even the turtle-doves that cooed outside his window in the mornings sounded as beautiful as she did saying his name. And she complimented her nails! She hadn’t scrutinized him like others had, instead, she displayed her admiration for them. No one- well, actually he can’t say that without offending Mitch- no female of his age had ever received him with such open-mindedness as hers. If he didn’t have any self-restraint, he would giggle. Instead, Harry pulled his hand back so that their perfect moment wasn’t sullied with bouts of bad timing, “thank y’love. I like yours, too. You’ll have t’come over sometime and paint mine, yeah?” 

Y/n laughed, and he breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been too bold, “I’d love too!” With glee frozen on her, she turned to look over her shoulder at the customer who was browsing the flowers Harry had in buckets, “I don’t want to hold you back from a customer for so long. I’ll stop by again soon, Harry. Thank you so much for your help.” 

The moment her hands reached for the wrapped bundle of sunflowers and the mermaid vase, a metaphorical grey cloud of rain and thunder manifested in the space above his head, and blocked all of the sunshine from spanning across his toned, lithe body. Did she really have to go? He wanted to whine. Maybe even wrap himself around her ankles like a child that refused to leave the park. They were only just getting to a mutual spot of comfort! Forget the other customer, he wanted to shout. Harry would kick them out and flip the sign to ‘closed’ if it meant only a few more minutes in the presence of her candy-coated charisma. 

But he knows that’s unrealistic, and settles with, “it was my pleasure, y/n,” a flirty wink (at least he hopes it is), “I’ll be waiting f’your next visit.” His taffy lips wrapping effortlessly around his smooth words, fueled by her welcoming receptiveness to his advances. It would be easy to be himself in the future, a little smoother and eloquent in his language and feeling. He was usually clear with what he wanted from anyone, and made it a pleasurable experience in all aspects for both parties involved (once it was three). Harry wanted to sweep her off her feet, and he wanted it to be an enjoyable experience for the both of them. Revel in that feeling of blooming emotions in a new relationship. A healthy one, in which he wasn’t receiving back-handed compliments all the time. 

He wasn’t superficial enough to push anyone off the table based on looks alone, but it did help that y/n had the disposition of an angel. An ethereal voice, supple lips that looked so silky and soft they had to feel that way, too, and hands that felt so tender in his. Perfect for holding on a late night stroll, or over the center console of his car when -if they go out on dates. 

What really hooked, reeled, and sinked him, though, was the fact that she was so nice to him. From the start, she’d been nothing but polite and sweet with him. Don’t even get him started on the way he swooned at the tone of her voice when he said that her name was pretty! So quiet and velvety, careful and calculated like she wanted him to know that it was okay. That she wasn’t thrown off by his comment. He nearly toppled over, clutching his heart with his legs jutting straight up into the air like a frightened goat. 

It wasn’t until the bells stopped ringing the sad notice of her exit that Harry realized he passed up the perfect opportunity to ask for her number, and as he kicked himself over it, he walked with the perfect customer service face he could muster to help the other person in his store. 

***

Harry was having a shitty morning. 

Not the kind of morning where every aspect of his routine is a terrible mishap, but like the water being too cold and the stove not working or the bottle of oat milk in the fridge being empty so he couldn’t make coffee. No, everything was fine and rolling smoothly, as it should. 

His water was the perfect temperature and ran down the toned bumps and divots of his muscles like the relaxing thrums of a lover’s caress in the midst of prowling heat. As soon as it hit his back, he released a sigh of contentment, his shoulders hunching and head rolling back and his hands roamed his shoulders and the back of his neck, rubbing away any aches that existed. The branch of eucalyptus that hung from the golden pipe of his showerhead fused a thick minty scent into the steam that fogged the glass wall, and the calming aroma helped the tendons loosen like the deflating limpness of untied shoelaces. He spent a few minutes just standing there, inhaling and exhaling deeply and feeling his lungs open and stretch beneath his rib cage. 

It almost made him wish that he’d opted to use his tub for a hot bath instead. 

He was able to cook an egg just fine on his stove, with dashes of Everything Bagel Seasoning with a side of avocado and a slice of toasted cranberry walnut bread, the same thing he had every morning. The carton of oat milk was brand new from his trip to the market the day before, and his coffee tasted the same as it always did. But… he was just... sad. An melancholy soreness that eroded against the insides of his body, consuming him slowly but surely and leaving him with a lost feeling of emptiness and unimportance. 

He thinks he might know why he’s feeling this way. 

While he’s stirring his scrambled eggs, he’s wondering how y/n likes hers. Over easy? Sunny-side up? Scrambled, like him? Did she even like eggs in the morning? What did she eat in the morning? He knows that some people ‘aren’t hungry’ in the mornings, though that’s only because they’ve gone hungry in the mornings before for an extended time period, and after so long of not feeding their growling stomachs, their brain discontinues the signals of hunger. Harry hopes that isn’t the case with y/n, and that she’s eating the proper three meals a day every day. 

And while he dipped a mini vegan chocolate croissant that he got at Whole Foods, he also wonders what she likes to dip chocolate croissants into, or if she even likes chocolate croissants. If she was a person who likes sweet treats, like strawberry tarts with powdered sugar over them or something lighter, like fruit cut into small squares in a bowl. When Harry was younger and would visit his nan on the weekends, she would pick fresh strawberries from her garden and cut them up for him when he’d woken from his nap. Sometimes, she would even sprinkle half a tablespoon of sugar over them. He wonders if she’d ever eaten strawberries like that. 

It’s been a week and a half, he still hasn’t seen her, and his heart is yearning. 

Harry knows he’s not in the correct headspace to assist other people with a cheery disposition about an hour before opening time, and decides it’s best if he writes a note on the door about how the shop wouldn’t open that day because he didn’t want to taint the reputation of his business by snapping at a customer for the only bundle of sunflowers he had, or dissolve into a puddle of love-sick tears in the middle of ringing someone up. Though really the notice just says ‘H’s Garden will not be opening today. Sorry for the inconvenience!’ followed by a frowning face and a lopsided, filled-in heart. 

Harry drags his feet back up the stairs, his lower lip jutting out in a discreet but depressing pout, and grabs Owen from his tank so that the chameleon could curl into the shoulder of Harry’s hoodie while he moped on the couch to sappy rom-coms that would only make him think about her more. At least there was someone there with him, even if his small green friend only used him for mangoes and papaya. They sit together for the entirety of Romeo + Juliet, and when it’s over, Harry’s sniffly and standing up to return Owen to his enclosure and to clean because the riotous emotions that whirl within him are too much to process while sitting down. 

Cleaning wouldn’t help him solve his problems, but it would help him cram all of his worries into a tight corner at the back of his mind- sort of like when dirty laundry began to overflow in the hamper and it requires extra force to shove it all in, only to come all back out like a memory sponge. His tormented thoughts on y/n could be compared to a dramatic inner monologue, very similar to how Romeo feels about his Juliet. But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and y/n is the sun. Harry has the play on his book shelf (the one with the side-to-side modern English translation because he was never quite gifted in the English department) and as he reaches for a bandana to tie his hair back, he finds himself resonating with a particular line: parting is such a sweet sorrow.

There was no need to change any of his clothing, since he was already dressed in one of his more impromptu outfits; grey sweats and a white t-shirt that read ‘women are smarter’ in black across his chest. He tied the red bandana into a knot at the back of his head, and lifted it over his chin so that it settled on his forehead, sweeping his hair back with a final push back. It doesn’t get in his way when he crouches to clean his various tables, spraying cleaning products with his shirt pulled over his nose, another organic product that’s supposed to be less harmful and smells like cinnamon and sandalwood. His shoulder blades begin to ache because he’s being a little more aggressive than he has to be, but the green tiles were sparkling so he was content. 

He washes the dishes, mops the kitchen floor, vacuums the carpets, cleans Owen’s habitat, and tidies the mail that piled up on the table when he finally calls it quits. Scouring his brain for something to do, to keep him busy- his brain busy, Harry settles on the floor with his back to the edge of his bed. He’s shirtless now, and is in need of another shower but he’d rather not because he knows he might end up crying over the possibility that he’s scared y/n off. There’s a book in his hands and a Frank Ocean record playing softly in the background that mentions something about ‘I've been thinkin' 'bout you, do you think about me still?’ and it’s not helping his case at all.    

It’s no use. 

There’s a plague of darkness buzzing like cicadas in his ears. He fears rejection and criticism. That maybe, she was only pretending in order to make the situation more pleasant so it ended sooner. Most of all, he feared that it would always be this way. That he would never find someone who embraces who he is as a person. Always met with mean side-eye glances or second looks of displeasure and confusion. It isn’t always that way, though, because then that would mean he gets absolutely no action, and that isn’t true. 

Harry is very… well-educated in matters that concerned sexual intercourse, but it was always a one-night stand ordeal. It was never ‘I really like you we should go out sometime’. In fact, he noticed that only time his approaches were well received were those in which he was dressed in a calmer manner. Simple, solid colors with sneakers or a t-shirt. Girls would flirt back, make good conversation, allow him to buy them a few drinks, and when he’d take them to his apartment they’d ask why he lived on top of a flower-shop, and if it was his sister or female-friend’s palace that he was crashing. Sex would ensue, but his heart wouldn’t be as present and engaged as he wanted it to be. 

Wrong. It was always so fucking wrong, and God, if he didn’t get out of this apartment he’s going to breakdown and cry and there’s no one to call to come over because Mitch is on a trip with his girlfriend, Sarah, and his other friend Jeff is on his honeymoon in Sweden. They were the only two on his mental speed dial list during the rare occasions he had a crisis, as they were the two that Harry had ever really opened up to. Mitch was a bit closer to his heart. They’ve known each other since their school days and practically grew up together (at one point they had small crushes on each other, which were confessed years down the line). Jeff was the owner of Winsome where… where y/n had mentioned spending her last twenty dollar bill. He didn’t have an issue opening up to them. He liked opening up to them, but he didn’t understand why they were the only two that ever truly opened their arms to him. 

A walk, he decided, would help him… air out his brain. Calm down. Breathe a little deeper, a little easier. 

He threw his white shirt back on, and a forest green sweatshirt that donned the emblem of the school he went to earn his business degree that fit him wide around the shoulders and felt like a marshmallow. Putting on a pair of beat up shoes, he shoved his keys into his pocket, hobbling and nearly losing his balance because he was moving way too fast. The door closed behind him with a slam, and even though he was still wearing the bandana around his head, wispy stray curls framing his face in a wild mane, his distress palpable through his appearance, but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out and feel the cool air against his skin. 

There’s a backdoor behind the stairs that will take him to a small alleyway that leads to a back parking lot where other shop owners that live at the top of their stores on the same side of his street parked their cars. He unlocks it from the inside, and throws his shoulder into it, desperate to her out. When it shuts behind him, he doesn’t turn back because it’s the kind to lock from the outside when closed. His fingers curl into the ends of his sleeve so that the tips of his fingers (nails now changed to a sparkling silver color) are the only parts of his hands visible. 

Rounding the corner, he whistled the cheeriest tune he can muster. His lips are puckered and his cheekbones high with the extension of his mouth. He’s not very happy on the inside, though he remembers reading something somewhere that if you pretend to be something long enough, you’ll eventually become it. If he pretends to be happy, then he’ll actually be happy. 

Right?

Harry rounds the corner of the parking lot and turns on to the main street. It’s only two in the afternoon, so there's people crawling in and out of shops anywhere. He even sees a man and a woman peeking into the window of his store, and he would feel bad if he wasn’t in a shitty mood already. He’s so out of it, that he nearly yells ‘get your hands off my windows!’. He doesn’t though, because for a moment the woman becomes y/n and the man becomes him, wrapping a ringed hand around her waist and whispering in her downy ear ‘they’re closed, darling, let’s go somewhere else’ and she straightens dejectedly, pouting playfully and standing up and her tippy toes so that she could press a quick kiss to his lips. 

That image fades though, and the couple continues with their stroll, hand in hand, and his heart is wrenching, writhing and trying to yank itself free from it’s place in his chest because it hurts too much to stay. 

Cars whizz past, and he skirts in and out of people on the sidewalk, keeping his pace fast and focused. There’s no intended destination, he’s just moving with the intent to forget the pretty girl who haunts him. Her voice is all he can hear. Her smile is all she can picture. And the rest of her is all he can imagine, which is exactly what hurts the most. Imagination only goes so far, fulfils so much with uncertainty of what the truth was and what wasn’t. Harry could imagine her with her feet up on the lip of a bubble filled tub, a glass of wine in her hands, but then…what kind of wine did she like? Or did she even like wine? And did she even have a bathtub to stretch out in after a long day? 

He curses the crimes he may have committed in past lives to deserve this torture. This unbearable pain that felt like he was being dunked in a slow-acting acid. He can do nothing about it but keep walking with labored will power. He passed his shop, and a bakery and a small thrift store that sells used clothing for way too much money. At the propped open double-doors of Jeff’s Winsome, he decides to talk in and browse. There’s so many items that smell good and taste good, that it was fun to just walk in and look. 

“Back again so soon, H?” 

Spinning on his heel, Harry comes face to face with Niall, a brunette, fit, Irish bloke with a chummy smile and a killer sense of humor. The two have brokered a sort of friendship, considering the amount of time (and money) that Harry spends there. Niall has even started calling him ‘H’ in silent homage to his flower shop. 

“Y’know I can’t stay away,” Harry attempted to joke, his lips pulling up in a weak smile, “plus, I think I needed s’more of the peppermint essential oils f’my diffuser.” 

“‘Course ya do! You're worse than the bloody vegan mums that come in asking for gluten free baby powder!” Niall cups a hand over his mouth and loudly whispers to so that only Harry catches his verbiage. There was a woman in the back of the store, looking through soaps in the limited kid’s section, the same exact kind that Niall was speaking about. “Go on and look around then, I’ll be here when you’re finished.” He said. 

Harry only nodded his acknowledgement, and moved in between wooden walnut shelves. The entire store had a caramel brown color scheme, with only the inventory adding color to it. Macramé potted succulents and plants added to the natural, outdoorsy feel. Winsome had an interesting mix of smells from all of the aromatherapy based products it housed, but it only added to the appeal. 

Currently, he held a packet of four lip balms that advertised to be ‘100% all naturally derived ingredients with no artificial additives' infused with ‘healing power of crystals’, two of them ‘citrine cherry' flavored, and the remaining ‘garnet guava’. The brand name is something in Italian that he can’t read, packaging thick and a triangle made of arrows in the corner signaling it can be decomposed and/or recycled. He had the same exact ones at home, only they were all misplaced and- 

“Harry?”

A small, timid voice called his name from behind him, and he froze. He knew that voice. It was the same one he had repeated over and over in his head for the past week, waiting for her promised arrival with a hopeful heart. 

His eyes go wide with recognition, body still and stiff like a deer caught in headlights. His heart begins to rump at a furious speed, loud in his ears like a million stampeding hooves. The packaged products in his hands shake, and then she speaks again, “Harry, is that you?” 

Is this really happening right now? He’s embarrassed at having been caught with lipstick in his hands of all things, but he can’t put them back now. It was too late for that. He lets them hang at his side, and turns around. He hopes there isn’t perspiration dripping from his temples because all of a sudden he wants to yank his sweater off. 

Harry turned, slowly. He feared that if he moved too fast she would fly away like a startled dove. 

“Y/n…” He’s breathless, but he manages a pitiful quirk of the corner of his mouth, which he licks over right after, “hi.” 

She’s wearing a dress this time, frilly at the hem which fell just above her knees. It’s pink and covered and lined with blood red trim at her forearms. A string of pearls glistens at the base of her throat, and her lips are covered in a sheen of lipstick. Her hair, however, is a tousled mess, pieces of it framing her face and untucked from her bun as if she had been jostling around. Her cheeks are flushed with the cold, and clearly that thin beige cardigan hanging off her elbows is doing nothing to keep her warm.

Y/n smiles at him, with the same shakiness, “f-for a second I thought I was talking to the wrong p-person.” 

 It’s quiet again, and they’re both fidgeting. Y/n’s knees knock together as she shifts her weight from foot to food, and Harry idly rubs his finger under his nose and sniffs boogies that aren’t there. She’s staring at the ground and rocking back and forth on her heels and he can’t think of anything to say because he’s so paralyzed by the fact that she’s actually standing in front of him, and looks as gorgeous as ever. Had he somehow manifested her presence? 

While she’s hiking up the ends of her sweater so that they’re situated properly on her shoulders, he says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Aren’t y’cold?”

Her head snaps up and she peeks at him from under her lashes while flattening a hand at her thigh, “a little bit.” 

Harry watches her tuck her hair behind her ears and wonders if she came walking from her apartment again. In the cold. Dress as she was. Not that he had a problem with the way that she was dressed! He understood that sometimes when people grew bored they used the smallest occasions to dress up and have some fun and get out of their homes. He did it too, sometimes. To clear his head. Hell, isn’t that what he was doing now?

“D’you need a ride home?” He stumbled over his tongue to backtrack, not wanting her to think that he was a wierdo or anything like that, “t-that is if y’walking, I wouldn’t want you to get sick or anything like that. S’bit chilly out today.” 

Y/n smiles shyly at him, a blush on the highest points of her cheeks, and rubs the side of her face against the fabric of her cardigan, “thank you, for the offer, but uhm… it’s my friend’s baby-shower-gender-reveal thing today and I came with my other friend to some last minute gifts and some flowers. I was going to buy some stuff from here because she’s crazy about the whole ‘no preservatives’ and all but, and I was also going to stop by your shop to buy some flowers, but I saw you were closed so I…I’m rambling again.” She sputtered out the last bit, and pressed the tips of her three middle fingers to her lips to stop the words from coming out. 

Harry smirked at her antics, but it’s more of a repressed smile, and the rest of his humor gleamed in the sea-glass of his eyes like a message in a bottle. 

“S’alright, love.” He’s still holding the lip balms in his hand, and he can feel the moisture that’s collecting on his palms dampening the Kraft like material as he gestured to her dress with the tip of his chin. “Y’wearing pink. I take it y’want the baby to be a girl?”

“Actually, I know it’s a girl. She told me,” y/n pips, shrugging smugly. 

Harry laughs at her this time, “Did you finish with all your purchases here? I can make an exception and open up f’you.”

“Oh, Harry, I don’t wanna bother you! Because if this was your day off then-”

He lifts a hand to get her to stop, and uses the opportunity to twist around and put back what he had in his hands. The conversation is flowing so smoothly now, that all of his previous worries are gone. He can only focus on her and the way her eyelashes fluttered and the crystalline sparkly in her voice. 

“Y/n, it’s fine. D’ya finish here? We can head over to the shop now if you’d like.” Harry points a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door. 

“Uh, no. I just got here so I still have to go grab some things,” she said, pushing her hair past her ears again. He thinks that she can probably tell the disheveled state her hair was in, because she begins to pop off a pin in her hair to readjust it. He doesn’t mind it, though. He thinks she looks cute. Angel-like. 

He nods, rolling his hands into fists within his sleeves so that the cuffs hang over his knuckles, and tries not to trip over his legs as he backs away. “A’right. I’ll wait f’you in the front, then. Take y’time, love.” 

“‘Kay,” she gleams at him, biting down on her bottom lip, and Harry turns away fully before he starts whining about how cute she is or before there’s a dent in the heather grey fabric of his sweatpants.  

At the front, Niall has his chin at the palm of his hand, and as he gets closer, Harry lifts his head to see that the brunette is wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. There's a shit-eating grin on his face that clearly points to a mountain of teasing in the near distance. 

“A little love-struck, mate?” He said, as soon as Harry was within hearing distance. At least he had the decency to keep his voice down, he thought. 

Harry flips him off, “oh, bug off.” 

Silver glitter sparkling on his nails, and his gaze strays to the floor, bashful of how clear his affection was. He turns to rest his bum against the counter and pulls out his phone to appear busy as he waits for y/n, mindlessly opening Instagram to have something to do (and to stop him from glancing at her ever two seconds).    

“Yup. I knew it. Have y’asked her out yet?” Niall doesn’t stop to let Harry refute his question, “y’know she comes in sometimes, after stopping by your place? And she just will not stop talking about how nice yeh were to her.”

Harry’s head snaps up from his screen so fast, something at the back of his neck creaks with the force. Instagram is long forgotten.

“What? Are you fuckin’ with me right now?” He doesn’t mean for his words to come as aggressive as they do, but the thought of her speaking to someone else about him is… well, it’s thrilling. 

Alarmed, Niall’s hands come up near his face in the motion of surrender, “no, man! Dead serious. Think she likes yeh, honestly.”

He can only say: “Fuck me.”

Niall is about to respond when a quiet voice breaks their stares, “I’m all finished.” 

“Already, babe? I’ll rig ya up, then!” 

He’s quick to slide the few products over the scanning square, and y/n and Harry stand beside each other silently, their height difference laughable. Niall’s gaze flickered between them with no commentary, and his lips pucker with a wiggling smile when he finally announces her total. A bit too much for a small changing blanket, oatmeal-based baby lotion, pacifiers with a lavender infused towel attached to ‘aid with goodnight night’s sleep’, and a bamboo hairbrush with a tuft of soft bristles. 

Nonetheless, she provides the money with a pleasant smile. Harry can see a bit of tightness around her eyes that suggests discomfort, but he doesn’t say anything. Niall hands her a paper bag with her purchase, “there yeh go! Have a good day now, y/n! And be good, to Harry!” 

Harry’s eyes widen at Niall’s last comment, and it takes every bit of self-restraint in him to not reach the other counter and whack him in the back of the head. Instead, he shakes and ducks his head in near shame.

Y/n, however, quips back with “I’ll be nice only if you’re nice,” and bumps her shoulder against his before walking towards the door, looking over her shoulder at Harry who’s smiling wide now, and trailing after her with no regard to Niall at all. 

He shouts something after them about being rude lovebirds, but Harry doesn’t care. He’s floating after this heaven-sent like cartoon characters being led to a freshly baked pie with their nose on the scent. His rump high in the air like the Lorax disappearing into the light in the clouds, utterly ignorant to everything else. 

When they’ve both stepped outside, they speak at the same time, 

“Let me just-”

“Do y’wanna put-” 

Harry and y/n giggle at each other, 

“You go first.” 

“Y’speak first.” 

And then they laugh again. Harry pretends to zip his lips and throws away the key, and she says radiantly, “I’ll drop this off in my friend’s car really fast and we can walk to your flower shop.” 

Watching her approach a car parked two spots away, a girl with blue, pink, and brown hair leans over to the passenger side, seat belt straining against her throat and when she sees Harry, she waves and it makes y/n push her back to her spot behind the driver’s  side. Whoever this girl is, she and Niall have to meet, seeing as they can’t mind their own business. He chuckled and waved back, that girl laughing along with him and it made y/n cover her face with her cardigan covered hands. 

“I’m sorry about Charlotte,” she said when she got back, “she doesn’t know how to mind her own.”

“A bit like Niall, it seems.” Harry said. He waits for her to catch up before beginning to walk down the street. Side to side, shoulder to shoulder. They’re so close, Harry can feel the warmth of her body heat through the fleece of his sweatshirt. It’s cold, and she’s still this warm? 

“Maybe,” her eyebrows raise, and her head tilts towards him, “they should meet.” 

“Tha’s exactly what I was thinkin’!” His voice rises with his excited agreement, and the tip of his nose wiggles as he scrunches his nose. 

As they get closer, to H’s Garden, Harry reaches into his pocket for his keys, fingering through them so that they wouldn’t have to stand in the cold for so long. He didn’t want her to get sick. 

“I’m sorry, Harry. I feel really bad about this,” she whispered beside him, looking up at him with doe eyes as she worried her lip between her teeth, the sheen of gloss adding an extra allure to her image at that moment. “It’s your day off, and I’m bugging you.” 

They stood in front of the door now, underneath the green umbrella cover that extended from the top of the door and down the side of the window. Harry waited for her to step into the little alcove created by the indent of the door before stepping in after her and jiggling the key into the lock. He resisted the urge to pull his lips down into a cooing frown at the look on her face. She really was worried about disturbing him. If only she knew that he spent the entire day moping (and nearly crying) over her. 

He sucked on his teeth, “oh, love, please worryin’ about it. Don’t wanna see that frown on y’pretty face anymore okay?” His confidence was slowly coming back, “s’not my day off, I just didn’t feel like speaking to customers today.” 

Shrugging, he opened the door, and took a step back to allow her to step through first. Y/n ducked her head as she passed him with a murmured ‘oh, okay’, and he followed right after her, wanting to get away from the cold too because he knew that his nose was probably pink at that moment, but what he didn’t anticipate was for y/n to stop right after breaching the threshold, and bend over at the waist to pick something up from the floor, causing Harry to bump into her at such an awkwardly sexual angle with all of his momentum. 

Considering he was half twisted away from her and in the middle of pulling out the key from it’s slot, the amount of force in Harry’s push from behind was enough to cause her to nearly fall forward, a surprised whimper slipping from her lips. Harry, determined not to see her fall, lets go of the key and reaches out just in time to grasp her hips on either side, pulling her back towards him mid-fall so that she doesn't collapse on her face. 

However, in the midst of all of this Harry forgets himself and uses a bit too much force. Not to mention, the implications of their position makes him hyper aware of every single place their bodies touched, her small frame against his lithe, tattooed body. 

This moment only lasts for a few seconds, but he can feel everything. 

He can feel the easy give of the skin of her hips underneath each finger that touched her, the softness of the flesh on her thighs against his sturdy knees. The fabric of his sweatpants is suddenly non-existent, and it’s almost as if he felt every taught tendon of her legs, frozen with efforts of helping catch or brace herself. The heat of her groin is flush against his, and it makes him want to scream with a sudden sensitivity. Her ass is practically seated on him, full and malleable against the points of his laurel covered hip bones. Harry’s semi-hunched, as her weight also pushed him back, and the position is doing nothing to help his frenzied mind settle. He feels like shit because he’s being a horny, pubescent kid instead of asking her if she’s okay, but then y/n moves back into him to straighten fully and their centers grind. Her dress is semi-bunched at the halfway point of her bum, and he can feel heat emanating from her, radiating back on his bloating cock. He has to stifle a moan when she pushes herself up with the tips of her fingers. 

Just as quickly as it started, it’s over. Y/n is dusting her bum off so that her dress falls and covers her modesty, and she’s beet red in the face, not looking at him. Which was fine by him, he was too ashamed to look into her eyes. 

He clears his throat (something he’s doing a lot around her) and asks if she’s okay. 

“Yes. Yes, I’m okay. This was on the floor,” she squeaked, holding up a neon yellow notice sheet in her hand. That damned thing was what caused all of this?

It’s a notice from the delivery men that said, ‘sorry! We missed you!’ with a time and date messily scrawled on the dotted lines. Harry had forgotten that he was getting a shipment of several plants that morning. 

Cursing, he takes it from her, “t-thank you. Now how ‘bout those flowers?”

It’s awkward, obviously, but y/n is severely silent. Harry’s still stuffy in his pants, but he ignores it and doesn’t add any fuel to the fire because there’s more pressing matters at hand than a boner. Y/n is the most quiet she’s ever been around him, considering all of her word vomits and ramblings, and he’s suffering. Definitely beating himself up in his head for having ruined the moment. He held onto her for a second too long, frozen. She must feel so embarrassed, and he was self-endulging like a fucking asshole. 

Harry asks her questions on what flowers she’d like, and she answers by pointing or bringing a stem to him, laying it on the counter without a word. A mixture of dahlias and baby’s breath with a handful of feverfew to make the pink in the dahlia’s stand out. He lays them out on his work table, cutting the ends at an angle where they need to be cutted and laying them out on a sheet of clear, dusty rose paper. Three packets of flower food are strewn at the corner, and y/n busies herself by fidgeting with them. He grows concerned when he makes a comment on the kinds of ribbons he had stored and she doesn’t say anything. Not even a nod or a hum. 

Eventually, he decides he’s had enough of her neglect, and pauses his work to devote her some attention.  

“Love, I’m sorry about what happened,” he said softly, trying to catch her eyes, “I know it probably made y’uncomfortable, and I didn’t do much to make the situation better, but I just didn’t wanna see y’fall.”

Y/n’s head is already dipped, so he can’t see her face, but when her shoulders begin to shake, he knows he’s utterly fucked. She starts to sniffle, and his eyes go wide. The paper crinkled as he set down the baby’s breath he’s holding in his hands. He hates seeing people cry, not because he didn’t know how to deal with it, but because he often ended up crying along with them. Also, he just didn’t want to see her cry. Harry wanted her to be happy, glowing, and smiling. Not dull with dollops of woeful distress in liquid form.

He rounds the corner and spares a look out to the street, wanting to make sure that there is no strange onlooker eavesdropping on their interaction. His hand reaches out to stroke her back or shoulder comfortingly, but he thinks better of it and drops his arm. She most likely would not like to be touched, considering what just happened between them. He drops his head, seeking face-to-face interaction, and speaks as gently as he can, “y/n, what’s wrong?” 

She avoids his search, and turns the other way while sniffling, “you probably think I’m weird now or something after that.” 

“No!” Harry exclaimed, jerking his head back as if he’d been struck, and her words practically had. He can’t believe that she would think that and even go as far as verbalizing her thoughts when he worshipped the ground she walked on and didn’t even know her that well, yet. “No, no. I don’t think that. Y’tripped, that’s all. Happens to everyone. If anythin’ I’m the weirdo for grabbin’ y’the way I did, and I’m really sorry about it.”

Y/n dig the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, “that was so embarrassing, I should’ve told you I was gonna stop or something. I always embarrass myself in front of cute boys and I never know what to do. I just-” 

Harry interrupts before she can dig herself further another hole. He highlights a segment of her words, dropping everything else in hopes of changing the conversation and taking her discomfort away, and mostly because he was bursting with relief and happiness. She had said that she thought he was cute, just how he thought that she was adorable, and nice, and everything good. They were on the same level, their minds in sync. Did that mean…

His voice is airy and light because of what she had just admitted, “y’think I’m cute?”

She stills with awareness of what she’s just said, and a puppy-like noise seeps from the back of the throat before her hands sink further into her eyes, embarrassed. Harry tenderly wraps his fingers around her small wrists and pulls her hands away from her face, murmuring about ‘don’t rub y’eyes anymore, love, y’gonna hurt’ with nothing but kindness. A millisecond of distraction speeds through his mind at the softness on the inside of her wrists. 

There’s a trickle of blubbering in her part, her bitten lips bumping against each other as she attempts to backtrack, “I mean- I- I-”

Harry decides that it’s now or never. It was a bit inconvenient, perhaps, but with her revelation his confidence soared and he was more prepared now to ask than he ever had been. So, he goes for it, “can I have y’number?” 

A moment of semi-uncomfortable silence as the unknown tips the scale. Would she say yes? Would she say no? His head was spinning and he hoped his nose didn’t start bleeding or something because y/n nods slowly, smiling, and then, “okay.” 

He’s elated. He was the polar opposite of what he had been that morning. If only Owen could see him then. He doesn’t waste any time reaching into his back pocket and handing her his unlocked phone. They don’t share any words, only coy glances and flirty quirks of the lips as the tips of her fingers move on his screen. Harry can’t believe that he’s finally getting her number, after nearly a month of pinning. 

When she’s finished, she clicks it off and sets it next to him with an added pat to the back of his suspiciously clean white phone case while he’s tying the flowers together with a loose rubber band at the ends to attach the food packets. He’s fine with working in silence now that she's not crying anymore. He throws occasional glances in her direction, and catches her watching his hands while fiddling with her own. Her brows were furrowed and her mouth was twitching. 

“Will you text me?” She asked him. 

He’s careful not to bruise any of the petals as he sets them down again, pausing with his ministrations to pick up his phone. He wiggles his eyebrows at her and types a quick ‘Hi. It’s Harry :)’. He hits send, “until you’re sick of me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” She shakes her head, and Harry’s reminded Rachel McAdams in The Notebook while she’s in complete denial of her feelings for Noah. The comparison makes his heart flutter, considering the romance of the onscreen couple. “How much do I owe you?” 

Harry waves her off, “it’s on the house.” She begins to argue, but Harry stops her before she starts rambling again, “y’better go or you’ll be late, love.” He holds out the arrangement to her, tufts of baby’s breath poking out from between the vibrant dahlias like fluffy clouds, the feverfew looking like miniature white daisies in the center. 

She looks at it, and back at him before huffing, “fine, but you’ll have to let me return the favor.”

“Of course,” he smirks, “with dinner, maybe?” 

They’re both gleaming at each other now, “okay.” Y/n takes a step back, her body half twisted as she walks away, but it remains like that for a moment as her eyes rake him up and down, a murmur following, “bye, Harry.” 

His veins charge with electricity, and his dark taffy lips part at her actions. Had she just checked him out? He doesn’t recover quick enough to return her goodbye because the previous swirl of arousal in his navel was bristling back to life at the implications of that look. Calm, slow, steady, and her eyes remained doe-like and innocent. 

She had to have known exactly what she was doing, whispering his name the way she had, looking over her shoulder and under her eyelashes the way she did. Deviously provoking his thoughts to begin a new with a reinspired fervor. The space in his underwear was growing tighter by the second, a blissful ache swelling. 

Before any other customer stepped in after her, Harry locked the door, and jogged up the stairs to prepare himself a nice, hot bath, simultaneously cursing and thanking the stupid fucking delivery men.  

********

Harry can’t stop thinking. 

Obviously, this is a huge issue for him. He was constantly thinking, and well, who wasn’t? The process of thoughts wisping around in his brain was one that he often put an unnecessary amount of energy into because he had no one to filter these thoughts onto, releasing them through a conversation to prevent the exhaustion of his brain and heart. A prime example of these mishaps being the depressing slump that occupied his demeanor that very morning. 

This?

This was different.

As soon as the apartment door was shut behind him, Harry pulled the suffocating sweatshirt off of his upper body, fingers hooking in at the collar and yanking it off with a swift tug. It landed somewhere on his kitchen floor, and he didn’t stop to take note of its final destination. Instead, his legs instinctively took him to his bathroom. 

Chest heaving, Harry walked to the small window leaking sunlight and rolled the stick between his fingers to close the blinds. His thumb dipped into the waistband of his boxes and dragged them down lopsidedly, the tiger tattoo roaring as it became exposed. When the blinds are fully closed, the white extension clangs against the shutters from his aggressive release. His body was slowly being consumed by a raging fire stoked by the illicit images his brain conjured of the innocent, unsuspecting y/n.

His inner turmoil consisted of guilt for using her image that way and justification from the conspiring rake of her eyes along the upper half of him that was visible behind the counter. He was so fixated by her, that her look alone felt like a tempting caress along his skin. And it all happened in a matter of fucking seconds. That’s how gone he was. That’s how fucking gone he was. Harry guesses that the easy excitement also had to do with the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in a while (he only ever gets lucky when he goes out to the bars with Mitch or Jeff, and they’d been gone for a significant amount of time) and the strong affinity he had for the girl who bought flowers from him.  

Explanation or not, he had to do something about the problem in his pants. He was painfully hard, and when he shucked his pants off fully, his underwear dragged with the movement and pressed against the tip of his swollen prick. A darkened patch of moisture bloomed where the head was, and he saw stars at the short pressure. He wouldn’t take his pants off just then, though. He liked to stall his pleasure as much as he could so that when he finally did cum, his stomach muscles contracted and his toes remained curled for more than ten seconds. 

He twisted the golden knobs of his tub so that the water would come rushing out at a borderline scalding temperature, and opened the small cabinet above the toilet for a bottle of almond and coconut shea butter bubbles. He uncapped it and bent over the edge of the tip, the cool, porcelain lip touching his crotch and provoking a choked whimper to leave him. Jerking his hips back, he poured the soapy liquid into the spot where the water cascaded, and retracted his hand when the beginning of froth formed along the surface. 

The heady sweet smell permeated the air with the rising levels of bubbles, and Harry couldn’t wait any longer. Because he liked to torture himself, he closed his eyes and slowly dragged the hell of his hand over the outline of his cock, a groan ripping though the silence. It’s so painfully good, that he does it one more time, and he jolts forward. He removes his hand, slips his thumbs underneath the waistband of his boxers, and lugs the fabric down his hips at an excruciatingly slow pace. The head of his member smearing precum all along as he moves and when he gets caught in the ripples of his boxers the muscles in his thighs flex at the ripple of pleasure that zips into his nerves. 

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. His mind was a spinning vintage reel of slideshow images of y/n. Y/n on bruised knees, her mouth wide open and her own drool on her tits, the tip of his cock flat on her tongue as she pleads with weepy eyes for him to cum down her throat. When he finally springs free of his underwear, a hefty slap rings out as his dick collides against his abdomen, right on the space underneath his belly button. 

There’s a stripe of liquid on the trail left by the mushroom head of his prick, and Harry’s eyes roll to the back of his head, throat straining as he hovers over the bathtub. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever been this hard over a girl before, and it’s driving him crazy. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to last as long as he usually does. As he swings a leg over the edge of the tub, the hot water encasing his calf, he’s thinking about how soft she is. The inside of her wrist and the palm of her hand. If she’s that soft on an external part of her body that’s used everyday, he can only wither away at the idea of what the inside of her thighs feel like. 

Bubbles are swarming up now, swathing his thighs and buttocks as he sinks into the sloshing water. When he’s completely seated and satisfied with the belly-button level of water, he clumsily throws a hand in the direction of the knobs to shut them off, and reclined his head against the curved end of the tub with his eyes shut. 

He hikes up his knees so that they’re resting against the porcelain walls, and mindlessly ruts up into the water at the filthy images he’s picturing, white foam collecting in sparse clouds over the math on his chest. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. It’s as if his body is being transported back to the moment his hips clashed with y/n’s. At the recollection, his mouth drops and his eyebrows pinch in a silent moan. The feel of her flesh underneath his fingertips has him bobbing in the water, and the next ideation has him gripping the base of his cock. 

Vividly, he pictured her on all fours, keening back onto him as her pussy enveloped him in warmth, a warmth that is almost replicated by the temperature of the water, dripping and making a mess of him but what’s turning him on most of all is the easy flushness of their bodies. He had felt the way her bum gave way under his hold, and he imagined the bounce of her flesh as he thrusted into her. 

He moaned a broken call of her name with his eyes still shut, and heard the trickling of water as his fist rolled up his stiff prick, squeezing at the tip so that a few more droplets of precum dribbled out. With his thumb, he rubbed over the red mushroom head and lathered it in slow, leisurely circles, a throb pulsating with the beat of his heart as he returned to flicking his wrist over himself. 

The way that he looked at him and the sound of his name on her lips seared into his memory. Airy and willowy, similar to it resonated in his brain with the fantasy of sinking into her for the first time, stretching her and having her preen and arch with desperate whimpers of his name for more. Harry considered himself to be ‘well-endowed’ and his size was a factor of what sent him careening over the edge as girls mewled over his size after he’d bottomed out. He wanted y/n to mewl under him, both of them falling apart at the seams at the mutual pleasures because if Harry’s this broken over just the thought of her, then he’s sure he’s going to lose himself beyond recognition after he’s buried himself into her velvety walls, slick with her arousal and so fucking warm. 

Just as she had been earlier that day. There had been two layers between them- the fabric of Harry’s pants and her panties- yet, he was still able to feel an immense heat from the apex of her thighs against his cock. He needed more than this. He needed her, not just his hand driving him closer to the edge. 

His jaw clenched as he bit back on a particularly loud moan, for no reason other than he enjoyed self-sabotage from time to time, and the speed of his jerking hand increased. His other hand gripped the side of the tub, and his legs flexed as he began to thrust up into his own fist, a trail of bubbles sticking to the tanned muscles. The cut rectangles of muscles of his abdomen glistened like freshly chopped cubes of apricot with the droplets of water that remained clinging to him. His breath came in labored, strained puffs as the palm of his hand twisted, tightening at the tip and loosening at the base. 

For a moment, he paused and cupped his balls, massaging them as the fantasy in his head continued. His mouth wrapping around y/n’s nipples, her eyes glazed over from previous orgasm that he wanted so badly to give her. She’d whine something soft and quiet to match her personality, ‘please, Harry, please I want more. Need another Harry, please’, and he’d speed up the movement of his hips, driving deep into her and cooing into her ear about, ‘c’mon, darling. Give m’another then. Y’want it so bad, yeah? Give me a’fucking ‘nother’, and she’d release a peircing moan that explodes in his eardrums while arching into him. She’d squeeze impossible tight around him, gushing with her own cum. 

The water in Harry’s tub sloshes around his ankles, and the muscles of his abdomen clench so that he’s closing in on himself, sputtering on an outrageously loud cry that he can’t contain and his hand increases the speed of his filthy ministrations because he’s right on the edge. He’s about to fucking cum and the back of his eyelids burns with the possible variances of y/n’s face in ecstasy provided by him with his nose deep in her cunt, lapping at the sweet honey that spills with every whimper of, ‘please let me cum, Harry. I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please let me cum. 

He tensed violently, his face contorted painfully as white ropes spurt from the tip of his cock over his fist and onto his chest, blending with the white almond foam. His feet are braced against the edge of the tub and his head falls back and his stomach tenses even further, the final leaks of his cum dribbling out. 

With the fuzziness that comes after an orgasm, his body melts back into the water that’s still warm, and his jerks with a pant as he allows his softening prick to sink into the water. The head on his hair is matted in a chocolate smear across his forehead, and his lips are a raging heart of cherry blossoms, parted with arduous gasps of recovery breath. His hands fall into the water at his sides, and with the lapping movement of the liquid against his sensitive member, he ruts into nothing again. 

Reclined with his eyes closed and heartbeat slowing, Harry murmurs a final, “fuck me,” at the extreme sensations that had raked through his body. 

Somewhere in the muffled distance, his phone dings with the notification of a text message, and with a tired noise of resentment, he sits up and reaches for his sweatpants that lay in a messy puddle besides the tub. His fingers drip darkening spots onto the grey material as he rummages for his phone, and then he finally clicks it on...

It’s her name, lighting up his screen, and the text reads: 

y/n <3 : so… dinner? 

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever crushed on a girl this hard before because even though he’s just completely physically spent himself, there’s something stirring in the depths of his tummy just at seeing the heart she put next to her name. 

He couldn’t be happier. 

*    *    *    *    *    *

and here he is!! what do you guys think?? pls pls pls leave your feedback in my askbox! i’d love to hear your thoughts! and if you really really loved it, don’t be afraid to press that reblog button <3333

[dreamescapeswriting]

Leftovers ~ HHJ [Request]

WORD COUNT: 2k

PAIRING: Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Angsty (kind of) fluffy ending 

A/N: I hope this is angsty enough for you, I feel so out of touch with angst atm I need to get back into it! Also I made it Hyunjin as I feel I don’t get enough Stray Kids requests haha

Staring down at your phone you waited for the message you had just sent to your boyfriend to be seen but he hadn't been checking his phone for a while. You didn't blame him, he was normally a super busy guy with training and performing but this week he'd promised you he had the time off which meant he could spend time with you. The minutes seemed to be ticking by faster and faster with every passing moment and you could feel the stares you were getting from your family members. All of the anxiously waiting to meet the boyfriend that they had heard so much about.

"I'm sure he's just running a little late," You said as you turned to look at your mother, she had a worried look spread across her face as she looked at you. Today was the day Hyunjin was finally going to meet your family after dating him for the last six months, he'd never been able to come and see them thanks to his schedule and always being busy but luckily for you he had some time off or so you though. 

Hyunjin: Running late, I'll make it up to you. Promise x Be there soon x 

Nervously you turned to look at your mum who already knew you what you were going to tell her, she could tell by the look on your face that he wasn't coming yet so she clapped her hands together. 

"Food! Come and get it while it's still piping hot!" She cried out to the house all of your cousins and siblings came filing into the kitchen, grabbing plates and heading to the table with the food waiting for them. Serving themselves as you sat in the kitchen window looking out of the window at the driveway, you figured if you stared long enough Hyunjin would magically appear with the best excuse in the world. It was this time of year when your family would come together to throw some gatherings, it wasn't anything huge but your mother would spend most of her time cooking and baking so that there was enough to eat that night and then for a week after. Sending people home with boxes filled to the brim with food, this was just something that she'd done for years. You had vivid memories of you and your cousins going to different family member's houses to do the same thing there too.

"What? No Hyunjin?" The voice of your cousin Paige rang through the air and it could have sent shivers down your spine. Although she was your relative and you'd been brought up to treat everyone nicely there was just something about her that made it hard for you to be nice. She was always making it out as though she was better than everyone around her, no matter what situation someone was in she would make it about her. It was as if she thought she was the main character in some kind of story.

"Drop it, Paige," Your mother warned her as she watched you tense up at the sound of your cousin's voices filling the room. Your mother knew that there was something between the two of you so she did her best to keep the peace but Paige wasn't going to just drop it, she'd been convinced that Hyunjin was someone you were pretending to date. Claiming that he was too good for you and that you could never get someone like him, going as far as to say that he wasn't real when your mother knew he was. Your mother was the one who had introduced you and Hyunjin, she'd been friends with his family for a long time and introduced you once when you were having breakfast with his mother. 

"I just find it funny, he's supposed to show up when we're all here and then doesn't? Sounds fake to me," Your mother slammed a plate down onto the table making you and Paige jump, you turned to look over your shoulder at her and smiled weakly. 

"He's a busy guy, eat your food Paige and be quiet." You mumbled as you moved away from the window and went to get something to eat instead of waiting around for Hyunjin who didn't seem as though he was going to be coming tonight. 

"All I'm saying is, it's funny that he never shows up when we're all around and only you and your mother have seen him," You rolled your eyes at Paige as she said it. You were sitting at the adult table with her and two of your other cousins who seemed to be joining in with her on the whole "Hyunjin" wasn't real front.

"Why do you want to see him? He's my boyfriend," You stated as you pushed some of the food that was on the plate in front of you into your mouth. Trying to act as though you weren't bothered by her more than you were, but it was hard when she made everything so difficult. 

"I just think you're bullshitting, there's no way someone like him would date someone like you," She spat out as she sipped on her wine glass but you just ignored her. She'd seen the photos of you and Hyunjin together why did you need to prove yourself to her in the first place. There was no reason for you to explain yourself to her or anyone else for that matter, your mother eyed you up from the other table so you kept your cool. 

"He isn't dating her, they're probably just friends. Hyunjin could do a lot better than you." Paige got up from the table and went into the kitchen while you were left with your other cousins who just sat giggling at one another while you tried not to let her words get to you.

The end of the night came and Hyunjin was still a no show, with no explanation over a text from him either. 

"You have to ignore Paige, you know what she's like," Your mother said as you slid your phone back into your pocket, deciding not to ask him for answers if he was that busy. 

"I know, but she just winds me up so much and now I feel like an idiot because of Hyunjin not showing up-"

"I'm sure he just got swept up," Your mum calmly cut you off as you helped her package food up for your cousins that were staying for the night. Lots of containers were being placed into bags for them to take home the next morning. She always liked to look on the brighter side of things instead of always assuming the worst so she wasn't going to let you get into a small fight over Hyunjin not coming to a family gathering.

"I made him this," She slid a bag over to you and inside was a box of each food item she'd cooked, including some of the baked goods. The tubs all had cute notes on them from her, all handwritten with smiley faces on the top. 

"Tell him to share with the others as well," She ordered as she pointed at you, she knew that if she handed over a box of everything all of the boys would get a fair share but you looked down at your phone when you felt it vibrate. His name flashing up on the screen with a short text explaining that he was outside the house. 

"He's outside..." You whispered looking at the time, your mother nodded at you and kissed your temple, she turned off the kitchen lights as she walked you towards the front door. 

"Make sure you lock the door when you come back in, don't be out there too late and put a scarf on. It's cold." You smiled as you took the bag with you towards the front door. It was pitch black and snowing outside, nothing except the security light was illuminating the driveway. Once your mother was upstairs you began opening the door as quietly as you could before heading out to see Hyunjin standing beside his car with a guilty look plastered across his face. 

"I know, I messed up but-" You cut him off by handing him the bag of food and smiling at him, shaking your head as you told him that it didn't matter.

"Mum made food for you and the boys, she said you have to share." He took the bag from your hand and passed it through the car window, leaving it to lean on the seats as he went to reach out to hug you. 

"I got caught up," You shook your head at him, you promised yourself you weren't going to make this into a big deal but you looked at him and felt nothing but anger about him not even showing up until late. 

"I already look like an idiot in front of everyone, so you might as well go back to the dorms," You muttered as you turned to go back into the house but Hyunjin grabbed onto your hand spinning you back around to face him. 

"You don't look like an idiot, I can explain to them that-" 

"That what? That you got too busy with your friends to come and be with me?" You heard a snigger come from the window above the front door and you knew it was Paige without turning around. She'd managed to weasel herself into your head and fill it with thoughts of not being good enough for Hyunjin. 

"I was working but I'm free now. I took more time off...I'm all yours now Y/n," He told you as he reached up to cup your face in his hands but you moved away from his touch, not looking at him as you began to speak.

"You should go I'm not good enough for you and I won't ever be good enough," Hyunjin began to shake his head violently as he heard the words coming from you, he refused to let go of you as he held onto your hand. 

"Where is this coming from? I-I love you and you love me, I told you I would never leave," Memories of the first time he told you he loved you came flooding into your head. You were hanging out at the dorms when he blurted it out, promising you that he would never leave you because you were the one for him. 

"You deserve better-"

"No, I deserve and want you." He cut you off, not wanting you to fill your head with the words you were saying but it was already too late. Your head was in a spin from everything Paige had been saying and now he was here in front of you, you were starting to believe it. 

"You're out of-" He smashed his lips against yours not letting you finish the sentence as he kissed you deeply, his arms wrapping around your body so you couldn't pull away from him. Whining against his lips you wrapped your arms around his neck and relaxed against the kiss, feeling every spark and firework explode around you as you did with every kiss you shared with Hyunjin. 

"I'm sorry," You whispered as you pulled away from the kiss and looked into his eyes but he shook his head at you. 

"It's okay, do you still want me to leave?" You shook your head at his question and he smiled at you, kissing your cheek as he went back to the car to get his overnight bag out from the boot. 

"Good, Felix told me to bring you some cookies so they're in the bottom of the bag," He chuckled, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and walking into the house with you. Both of you stared up at the stairs to see Paige staring at you, arms folded over her chest as she walked away with a pout on her lips. 

"Who was-"

"No one you need to think about, come on...I'm still hungry and we have left overs." You giggled pulling him through towards the kitchen.

Tagline: @taestannie​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @minholuvs​ @bisexualmess007​  

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Bad dealings.

Warnings: not much really. Maybe some swearing and soft Miguel.

WC: 1501.

Enjoy x

You drove the car past the Welcome to Santo Padre sign and you took a deep breath looking out your window at the road just concentrating on getting to the hospital and limit any sightings of you. You couldn’t believe you were back here; you flew out of Mexico to Arizona almost 12 months ago with promises to yourself that you would never be back here, but your Dad fell ill and your Mum needed you. Your cousins helped you disappear after they almost killed you when they found out how deep you had gotten.

You had finished high school and went straight into working in the mayor’s office and worked your way up to the mayor’s personal assistant. Your life had been fine until Miguel Galindo walked into the office and your whole world changed after that very first encounter, which then lead to you sleeping with him after his divorce, to you leaking information to him, not because he asked but because you were falling in love with the cartel boss and you wanted to see him happy and for all his plans to go ahead and be ahead of every move.

You were busted when you had taken some photos of classified paper work in Antonia’s office and instead of sending them to Miguel’s email, you sent it to the deputy mayor’s assistant addressed to Miguel with a seductive photo also attached. The assistant leaked the email, the whole situation exploding in your face, you being threatened with illegal action and you had to get out as soon as you could. You couldn’t even walk down the street and not get nasty words thrown at you.

Angel and Ez turned up at your place when they saw the paper, asking you what you needed, after them telling you off for jumping into bed with Miguel in the first place. They organised everything for you, like amazing older cousins do. Your parents went to stay with their Dad for a bit and the boys helped you get under the boarder through the clubs tunnels to the Mexico airport with new hair, a new name, a new phone number, a house that had been rented and you started a new life leaving everything behind, including your deep feelings for Miguel and the guilt of walking away and not telling him you had left.

You pulled up in the hospital car park, slipping on your sunglasses and walking inside to find your Dad. As you walked through the halls you rounded a corner to a long hall way of rooms and came face to face with Angel in Nestor’s face, Gilly trying to pull a yelling Angel back who had his fist raised,

“She’s going to come back, its her Dad and when she does you tell me” Nestor snarled in Angel’s face. Angel went to throw his hand forward and your voice rang out through the hallway,

“Angel, stop” You shouted.

Everyone’s head turned to look at you. Nestor’s eye blew open when he seen you and Angel stepped back, walking towards you, his arm going around your neck and leading down the opposite way towards your Dad’s room,

“Nice to see you cuz” Angel kissed the top of your head “You do realise Galindo’s bulldog has seen you, he’ll find out your back”

“I’ am here for 4 days, to see Dad and leave. He won’t know where I’ am staying anyway”

“You wish mami, you know what he’s like. He’ll find you. He’s Miguel fucking Galindo and your the first women that ever risked her freedom the way you did for him. So stupid. ”

“Yeah, yeah” you rolled your eyes “We going to talk about it every time I see you?”

“Probably, yeah” Angel laughed kissing your forehead.

It was best that you staid in the next town over in a hotel in the out skirts. You didn’t want to risk getting seen, it being reported back to Antonia that you were in town and start that whole nightmare again. You had ordered room service once you got back from the hospital and showered, when there was a knock on the door you thought that’s what it was, your food. But when you swung it open, a range of different emotions charged through you.

Miguel looked back to you, looking just liked you remembered, smelling just how you remembered, his hair and beard perfect as ever and his suit just as well fitting as what they used to be. You wanted nothing more than to jump on him, kiss him, feel him against you. But his face and eyes were cold, so you just gave him a small smile, moving out of the way and gesturing for him to come into your room. You took a deep breath closing the door behind you after shooting Nestor a dirty look, who was sitting in the car outside. You turned to Miguel sitting on the end of your bed,

“Did Nestor follow me here?”

“You left” Miguel looked up at you, his eye’s starting to tear up “You left and you didn’t tell me. I couldn't find you, I didn’t know where you had gone, if you were ok. You left me. I would have helped you get through it; I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you”

“Miguel” you took a step closer to him and he held up his hand to stop you and you froze looking down at your feet tears running down your cheeks.

“You didn’t trust me to look after you?” Miguel looked up, his face like stone but hurt in his eyes.

“It was my fault; I never should have done what I did. You could have done it on your own. You didn’t need my help. I let my heart take over and done something really stupid that will follow me around for the rest of my life” you sniffed.

“I would have protected you, mi sol” Miguel muttered shaking his head.

Your heart hurt hearing your pet name. You walked over to him, getting down on your knees in front him, you reached up slowly, your hands going to rest on his cheeks. The feel of his beard on your palms sending goose bumps all over you. Miguel was stiff at your touch at first till you lent onto his legs and he sighed into you, his hands going on top of yours, his forehead resting on yours and he started to cry. You pulled your hands away, pushing his legs apart, crawling forward between them and throwing your arms around him pulling him into you.

One of your hands rubbed over his back, your other rested on the back of his head and you covered the other side of his face in kisses. Miguel brought his arms around you, hugging you tightly. His solid chest pressed into you and you started to sob, Miguel’s tears free flowing down his cheeks as well. You both staid like that for a long moment, crying in each other’s arms. You pulled back looking up into Miguel red face, his hand moving onto your cheek, his thumb brushing the tears away and his other moving to rest on your shoulder,

“Where did you go?”

“Arizona” you cleared your throat “Angel and Ez got me over the border and I flew out of Mexico”

Miguel reached for both your hands to pull you up off the floor and guided you to sit on the bed. He snaked an arm around you pulling you into him and you rested a hand on his thigh.

“I checked all flights, for weeks. Your name wasn’t on any”

“Victora Pérez” you gave him a half smile and Miguel nodded back sucking in his lips “Miguel, I’ am so sorry. I should have told you, should have called you to tell you I was ok”

“That you were alive” Miguel shot back and locked eyes with you.

You took a deep breath, both your eyes searching each other’s. You both started to move towards each other, your lips meeting, fitting together so perfectly. You both sighed into each other’s mouth’s. You slid your hand’s up over Miguel’s jacket and stopped to sit on his shoulders and Miguel’s hands threaded into your hair, the kiss deepening. Miguel broke the kiss, kissing your cheek twice and his finger nails scraping over your sculp affectionally,

“I missed you” you whispered.

“It almost killed me, you not being here. You leaving me. Every day I searched somewhere new, finding nothing. When Nestor walked in telling me he had seen you” Miguel paused looking down shaking his head, emotion filling him again “Come home, come back to me”

“Miguel, I can’t. After everything. How can I start over here again?”

“With me. Together. Amor, we will make it work. I’ll sort it out. I’ll handle it”

“What does that mean?”

“Please Y/N, trust me on this. Come home to me mi sol, please.”

 Tags: @beccabarba @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @alwaysachorusgirl

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse - Those that stood above the rest

Summary: Everyone in D.A.M.N simp for the power couple at least a little bit - the Vampire Prince of Dahlia and the Electro Energetic. Gavin and the Freelancer would be lying if they said they haven't been watching them... respectfully. 

TW: [Swearing], [Profanity], [Explicit implications courtesy of Gavin, of course] & [Oblivious narrators]

Apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors because I wrote this the whole night and only edited it once. I’ll do the editing process again tomorrow morning.

-

Life as a student in D.A.M.N is nothing like regular colleges or universities. While the environment is hectic with exams, assignments and teachers with sticks up their asses - there's also a hint of craziness thrown into the mix. You can never really predict how your day would go here in the academy, and to most of the students, it's the typical college experience you'll get everywhere. Just... taken to the next level. 

That's what you get for a magical academy, after all. 

An Air Elemental would accidentally shatter the windows in a classroom with a powerful gust of wind on a random ass Tuesday because she was laughing too hard. A Graviton Energetic would sneeze, and suddenly, the gravity in the music room would stick the instruments on the ceilings. The entire soccer team would fall flat on the grassy field, snoozing because the Serenity Daemon playing as the Goalkeeper uses too much magic to calm their anxious Sweeper during his first play with the team. 

With so many Empowered creatures of all kinds attending D.A.M.N, there's never a dull moment. You learned that the moment a loud growl came from the Debate Club on your second week as a student. A Wolf Shifter had gotten into a heated argument with a Vampire about the toppings that should and shouldn't be on a pizza. 

So yeah, typical college life with magic thrown into your daily shenanigans. 

Today, you can't help but wonder what sort of excitement would occur as the large clock above the lecture hall ticks by, counting down the second before the class is over. 

You check the clock and sigh. Just ten more minutes to go, but it feels like time is creeping forward at such a snail-like pace. Tapping your pen on the open notebook laid before you rather irritability, you just want the lecturer to stop yammering already so you can grab lunch at the food truck parked outside of campus. 

Something gently knocks against your knuckle. You tilt your head to the side and meet with Damien's unamused stare; it looks like this is the third time he caught you losing focus in class. 

"I told you to grab a snack before class started." Damien whispers, mindful to keep his voice even so the lecturer won't catch them chatting. Sadism Daemons are scary when you piss them off, and the way the lecturer's eyes sweep through the students is more than enough to have them all shut the hell up the moment he begins their topic of the day. 

"I was meeting up with Lasko and we lost track of time." You hiss back. Yesterday you made a promise to catch up with the Air Elemental before your first class started to organise the date and invitations for the next game night. Once Lasko starts talking about the things he's comfortable with, he loses his stutter and launches into an animated one-sided conversation. You didn't have the heart to stop him, not when he looks so happy and cute. 

Buying that Arkham Horror board game was the right purchase to surprise him with. 

While your mind replays the morning you spend with Lasko, Damien rolls his eyes. "Of course you did. Here." He pushes his coffee cup towards you. His fingers linger on the cup for a few seconds to make sure that the coffee remains hot enough to drink. 

You grab the cup, grateful for his consideration, and take a big swing. The coffee settles pleasantly in your stomach as warmth spreads within your body. 

You're more a tea drinker - the classic Early Grey and Gunpowder Green - but at this instance, coffee would hopefully kick your focus back into gear. 

"Thanks, Damien." You said before passing the cup back to him. You peeked at his notebook and wasn't surprised to find that it's packed with notes written in different coloured pens. "Hey, want to grab lunch together after this?" 

Damien switched the yellow pen for a red one when the lecturer mentioned something about a topic for the upcoming test. You absentmindedly wondered if it's worth your life stealing his notebook. "Sure. What are you in the mood for?" He asked. 

Finally, the lecturer dismisses the class. Chatters erupt as students pack up while some scurry over to the podium to ask a few questions.

You lean against your seat to stretch your back; your notebooks and stationery are already in your school backpack. You're just waiting for Damien now. "I'm craving for a burger and some cheesy loaded fries with a boba tea." God, just thinking about it is already enough to make your mouth watered. 

Being a health nut, Damien throws you a judgemental look at your food choice as you two made your way towards the main campus entrance. He easily follows your lead through a crowd of students, and Damien even gently pulls you closer to his side when a student whizzes by on her skateboard. 

With so many people talking and laughing around you and Damien, you can't help but hear the conversations hovering around you. 

"...had class with them yesterday? Dude, you're so lucky! Did you sit beside them!?" 

"Are you fucking crazy? No! I sat two rows behind them, but it was enough to smell their perfume. God, they're so gorgeous - I couldn't focus the entire time!" 

"I've heard a few players from the Earth Elemental team tried to invite them to their party this weekend, but they were shot down. Apply cold water on burned area." 

"Well, duh. You can't just walk up to them like that! They're one of the hottest people in this academy."

"Yeah, but those players are in one of the most well-respected sports teams in all of Dahlia, and even they can't stand a chance against them!"

Students parted ways as you and Damien approached the gates. Rows of food trucks parked across the street with tables and chairs placed about. The conversations tapered off behind you, along with the hubbub of the academy. You have a pretty good idea of whom those students were talking about. It's been a topic surrounding the academy ever since the start of the new academic year. 

Even as an introvert who prefers to hover to your few but close group of friends, you couldn't escape the latest academy gossip.

"Finally, I thought my ears would've fallen off before we could escape," Damien mutters. It's a cloudy Wednesday; dark clouds are rolling above them with an occasional burst of strong breeze cutting through. "You'd think they would just give it a rest already." 

The food truck you and Damien stop by displays a menu with a wide variety of food and drinks. From burgers to pasta and desserts ranging from ice-creams to Thai banana pancakes, your stomach begins to growl. You place your order in a hurry, whereas Damien selects a hearty sandwich stuffed with juicy and tender slices of slow-smoked beef brisket with veggies of his choice and chipotle mayo in between two crusty loaves with a bottle of water. 

You and Damien grab your meals to sit at one of the vacant tables and enjoy lunch together. Good food and good company - what more could you ask for? Well, other than Damien's tsk-ing and wiping the barbecue sauce that smudged the corner of your cheek like the mother hen he constantly denies to be. 

"Can't you eat your food properly, Freelancer? You're getting your fingers dirty too. Give me your hand." Damien demanded halfway through his sandwich. You grin impishly and offer your left hand for Damien to wipe with some tissue while the other is holding a burger. The thick sauce begins to drip. 

Soon enough, a familiar voice shouts at them from across the street. 

"Yo, Damien! Freelancer! Are you guys, like, having lunch? Can I join!?" 

You can't help but beam and wave your hand (that was still holding the burger) high up when Huxley crosses over. Damien squawked with eyes wide in horror when the barbecue sauce got all over the table. He hurried to wipe the table clean while you greeted Huxley. 

"Hi, Huxley! Are you grabbing lunch too? Take a seat, man!" 

"Thanks a bunch, dude. It's been a while since I hung out with you two." 

"We literally had a class together two days ago." 

"Two days too long, Damien. I miss you guys." 

"Aww, that's super sweet of you, Hux!"

"Oh, for the love of - just go buy something already before the next class starts." 

Huxley happily gives Damien two thumbs up before grabbing his food and drink. When he returned to their table, he brought a tray of smoothie consisting of kale, spinach, banana, orange, and vanilla blended into green mush in a plastic cup and a plate of vegan quesadillas. 

The moment Huxley sat down, you took a sip of his drink and made a face. 

"Yeah, I ask them to hold back on the honey because I like the vanilla more," Huxley explains before tucking in. "Oh! But I can ask them to add more honey if you want. That’s like, totally cool." 

You quickly shake your head and clean your palate with your sweet boba tea. "It's cool, Hux. Just wanted to try a sip. You're really into these crazy healthy smoothies." 

"They're the bomb, dude. My Mums introduced a few recipes to me when I was a kid, and I basically hooked ever since." The Earth Elemental explains after gulping down a good chunk of the green goo. 

"Yeah, well, with the calories you burned up during practice, I guess you can't go wrong with smoothies," Damien added thoughtfully. His sandwich is all gone. He props an elbow on the table and cradles his face in one open palm. "Anyway, what's up, Huxley? Anything new happened?" 

"Nah, it's been nothing but the same shit lately. Classes, assignments and practices for the upcoming Elemental & Energetic Games - normal stuff. What about you guys?" 

"More or less the same." Damien replies, soundly ignoring your "We're hitting the tournament arc!" outburst. "Planning to organise a study group for the upcoming tests. I expect the two of you will be joining, by the way." 

At Damien's words, Huxley beams brighter. Any brighter, you'd need a pair of sunglasses. "For real, dude!? You're like, the best friend ever, Damien! C'mere - lemme give you a hug!" 

You snicker when despite Damien's frantic protest, Huxley shoot up from his chair and quickly hugs the Fire Elemental tightly before he has the chance to weasel away. 

Also, you didn't miss the chance to snap a quick picture of them to show Gavin tonight. 

Unaware of your phone, Damien grumbled when Huxley finally released him, and they sat down again. The three of you continue to chat about everything and anything. Soon, the topic shifts from tests to plans for the weekend. 

Huxley snapped his fingers when you mentioned Lasko's gaming night and the tabletop game you recently bought for him so they could all play together. 

"I totally forgot about the party! A few guys in my team are having a party this Saturday, and I want to invite you guys and Lasko. Oh! Gavin too! It's going to be a blast, and on Sunday, we can play that new board game."

You and Damien exchange a glance. "Sounds fun. Actually, we've heard about the party just now. How many people are your team members inviting?" You asked, curious. 

Huxley takes a moment to ponder before shrugging. He's nearly done with this food. "It's supposed to be just with a few close friends. Nothing too crazy, you know? After the last party that ended with fireworks exploding in someone's bedroom, they want to keep it lowkey." 

"Huh. Close friends, but they tried to invite a certain Energetic," Damien interjects. "What's up with that?" 

"You heard about that too?" Huxley replied, surprise coloured his tone. "Word travel like, super-fast around campus! It happened, like, yesterday morning!" 

Damien let out an annoyed groan and ran a palm down his face. "I think it's safe to say that everyone in this fucking academy is talking about it and nothing else. God, no matter where you go, you can't escape it." 

You pat Damien's arm in a comforting manner. "They're hot and popular; people will be talking about them until we all graduate." 

"And if it isn't them, people would be talking about their boyfriend," Huxley pointed out, stirring his smoothie languidly. Huxley smiles and offers it to you when you critically stare at it for a tad too long. Against your better judgement, you try again. 

Blek! It still tastes the same! Huxley just chuckles and finishes the rest of the smoothie while you seek solace with your boba tea again. 

"Besides, it's not often you see an Energetic and Vampire couple walking around," Huxley continued. "I think they're living together too. I mean, that's what I heard." 

"Don't tell me you also have a crush on them."  

Before Huxley could say anything, you tentatively raise your hand as if you guys are in class. Now you bear Damien's annoyed glance. "I was kinda hardcore crushing on them and their boyfriend before Gavin and I officially got together. They keep to themselves and their boyfriend most of the time, but they're super nice in classes." 

The Elemental and Energetic courses often have classes that intermingle every week. However, they're primarily compulsory lessons like magical history, laws regarding coverts and taxonomy of various Empowered creatures. 

So you're practically classmates with the hottest Electro Energetic in the academy and had even sat beside them a few times during class. Unlike many of the students who simp for them at a distance. 

The power couple of D.A.M.N is certainly interesting, to say the least. 

You narrowed your eyes at Damien when he refused to let up his disappointed stare. "Don't lie to me. You simp for them too." 

Damien huffs and crosses his arms. "Both of them look good, alright. Anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell from a mile away. They're gorgeous, and the Vampire is hot - so what?" 

"They're both super strong too." Huxley unknowingly throws more wood into the fire. 

By the time their lunch ended, Damien had demanded they talk about something else, so you jump into plans for the weekend. Party on Saturday and a gaming session on Sunday. 

Typical college life.

-

When the time on your phone displays 10.30 PM in glaring bright light and you're still on campus, you know what death feels like. 

It's quiet in the cafeteria, save for a small group of students huddled together around tables scattered in various places. Their heads are hunched down as they go over textbooks and assignments. One of the students happens to be a Vampire judging from the blood bag beside his laptop. 

A red swirly straw juts out of the bag, and for a brief moment of exhaustion, you entertain the image of the student sipping the blood bag as if it was a Capri Sun. 

Just like those students, the reason why you've stayed late in the academy's cafeteria is because of assignments. You know that if you bring your homework back home with you, you won't get any of it done. It's better to stay here and slough through them instead. 

Damien would scold and drag you home if he knew. Huxley would be sad and plead for you to rest, and Lasko would put on his guidance counsellor voice and advise you that a good night's sleep would help you think better. 

The boys mean well, and you love them for it, but you know yourself better than anyone. If you don't finish these assignments tonight, you would just procrastinate until the deadline punches you right in the face. 

You sigh and rub your temple in frustration. You've made good progress so far, but there's still a few left and you want to complete them all before going home. So you resume writing down the essay about the importance of convert and the Department on your laptop, fingers deftly flying all over the keyboard. 

Nighttime at D.A.M.N is not as busy as it is in the morning. The students that are going in and out of classes are mostly Vampires and nocturnal animal Shifters. The academy's faculties are also lesser in terms of numbers compared to their morning counterpart. 

Twice you've experienced the nightlife at D.A.M.N, and tonight would be your third. You wondered if Gavin is at home already. Hopefully, you can return to the apartment before him. Better wrap this up, then. 

The steady rhythm of your fingers on the keyboard and quiet discussion from the group of students slowly lull you to sleep. Hang in there just a little more! 

The sound of a Daemon Rifting into this world startles you awake. 

"Here you are, Deviant," Gavin said, his ordinarily seductive voice laced with conceal anger. Oh shit, you're in trouble now. "I thought we talked about this." 

You have no choice but to face him. Gavin looks devastatingly as sexy as ever; his black t-shirt snugly fits his body to the point that it showcases his biceps tastefully. A pair of dark blue jeans that he just so happens knows will get your heart racing and accompanied by a pair of shiny black Doc Martens boots. A rainbow-coloured bead bracelet is on his right wrist; a gift from Caelum. 

You would've swoon at the sight of him if you weren't seconds away from face planting on your laptop. 

So instead, you greet him with a, "Whaaa... Gavin?" You rub your eyes and blink at him. "W-What are you doing here? I thought you'd be - " You break out a yawn before sighing. "At home by now." 

"Funny. I thought the same thing about you but colour me surprised when Caelum reached out to me while I was grocery shopping — saying that you aren't home even when it's close to midnight." Gavin explains and tilts his head to the spread of books you have before you. "So, want to explain why you're at the campus cafeteria right now instead of in our bed?" 

The gears in your head are scrambling to come up with an excuse that's good enough to appease Gavin. So lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear the whispers coming from the nearby students. 

"That's the main boyfriend..." 

"Holy fuck, an Incubus? Damn, they're insatiable!" 

"How often do you think they have orgies? Twice a week?" 

" - collecting them like Pokemon!" 

Oh fuck it, you can't come up with anything decent. "I'm nearly done with my assignments, Gavin." You assured the worried Incubus. "Just need to write down a few more paragraphs..." 

Gavin is undeterred. "Freelancer, we talked about this. It's not healthy that you're making a habit of staying over at campus late at night because of assignments. You're going to burn out like this." 

Well yeah, you could feel your body is already seconds away from collapsing but like hell would you admit that to your boyfriend. It's been a long day and an even longer evening. It's a good thing that tomorrow's the weekend. 

Gavin startles you once more by leaning against the table and cupping your face in his large hands, so you're forced to look straight into his eyes. He's many things, but to those he deeply trusts and loves, his eyes would always betray the worry and concern he has for you and Caelum; even if his words aren't as forthcoming at times. "My stubborn, enticing Deviant... Are you being a brat again? Not listening to your Dom like you should be?" He purrs. 

All of a sudden, your throat suddenly feels like sandpaper, and your heart skips a beat at Gavin's tone. You're very familiar with that tone - it always promises punishment and pleasure mixed together until nothing else exists except for your boyfriend. 

But the question now is, how far can you actually push him. So with Gavin still refusing to release your face, you swallow and reply as nonchalantly as you can, "Oh, I don't know about enticing, Gavin. I-I mean, I've been running around campus the whole day. Probably have some barbecue sauce stain on my jacket and - Ow!" 

You puff out your cheeks when Gavin pinched them. 

"Are you purposely trying to test me, Freelancer? You know that just means more fun for me, and you tie up and helpless on the bed, right?" Gavin is all too happy to remind you, cocking one eyebrow at your impertinence. No doubt he already has your punishment in mind when the two of you are home. 

But you're not going to budge that easily. Sensing your stubbornness, Gavin lets you go and unleashes his ultimate move with a sigh. 

"I can see the Knots on you, Freelancer, and if I can see them, Caelum can too. I'm not covering your ass when he comes over for breakfast tomorrow and starts crying." 

You gasp and immediately recoil. "Low blow Gavin!" You counter, but you know that he speaks the truth. Your heart will literally break if you're the reason that Caelum cries. 

Gavin smirks when you switch off your laptop. He helps put your things away and offers a hand to you. With a small smile, you let yourself be gently pulled up by him and sling your backpack over a shoulder. 

"Are you hungry?" Gavin asked as the two of you stepped into the large hallway, hand-in-hand. "I didn't manage to make anything when I put the groceries away, but I can whip something up real quick when we get home." 

It's a sweet gesture, and you made sure that he knows how much you appreciate it by squeezing his hand. Ever since you two started living together, Gavin is determined to feed you properly. According to him, it's only fitting since you've constantly been feeding him too. "I'm more sleepy than hungry." You reply after a yawn. "I'll just eat a big breakfast tomorrow." 

"I'll hold you to it. Also, look alive, Deviant. Hottie approaching at 12 O'clock." 

That got your attention immediately, and snapped your eyes forward. Your jaw would've dropped if it weren't for Gavin lightly nudging your side when you saw who was walking towards the two of you. 

It's them — the Electro Energetic that became the talk around campus. 

They're as breathtaking as ever, even after a whole day of classes and club activities. Not a single hair out of place and clothes unruffled. Their body language stood out to you; their gait is a little hesitant but friendly, while their eyes are kind. 

It's easy to see why so many people harbour crushes on them, and you've always been a sucker for cute faces. 

When they finally approach you, they pull out a pair of wireless white earbuds from their ears. That's when you hear intense music playing:

It's the Pumpkin Patch King 

With the corpse with the ring

And she'd fuck my best friend if I die here today...

"Um, hi. Good evening. I'm sorry for bothering you guys so late like this. Are you heading home?" They inquire tentatively. 

Gavin waits for you to take the lead. "Hey, man. Yeah, we kind of are, actually. Want us to walk you home?" You could feel how pleased Gavin is beside you. The offer just crosses your mind, and besides, it's not nice to walk alone this late at night. 

That's what you're telling yourself despite the small part in your brain whispered that walking them home would be a great step of getting to know them better. It's just a harmless crush anyway. 

Unfortunately, they decline the offer. "I'm waiting for someone, actually, but when I saw you, I wanted to talk for a bit." 

Your heart skips a beat for a second time tonight. They specifically sought you out? You? When they've never done so towards anyone before? 

"O-Oh," You embarrassingly squeak, clutching Gavin's hand tighter.

The Electro Energetic nod. They tilt their head like an indulged, curious cat and god, that simple gesture shouldn't look so hot. "I don't know if you notice me, but we share Covert Laws - "

If you notice them? If you notice them!? They have a stronger presence than the lecturers themselves! They radiate magic like thunderstorms - intimidating, powerful and commanding that you have no choice but to submit to it. 

Sitting beside them was an experience and a half! There's no way an Empowered creature could ignore them despite their quiet demeanour! 

" - and I was wondering if you would like to be partners for the final project this year? Um, I heard that you're really good in that class, and I promise to pull my weight with the research and - "

You don't know how to react. Is this really happening? One of the most popular students in the academy wanted to be your project partner? You thought this sort of situation only occurs in animes! 

"They'd love to." Gavin smoothly answers when you're too shocked to say anything. "It's always nice to make new friends after all. Especially with a walking wet dream such as yourself." Here, he purposely pauses to appraise the Electro Energetic. 

Just like his Freelancer, Gavin has heard all about this Empowered human and even basks in the delicious energy coming from the thoughts and emotions his partner has for them. As an Incubus and their boyfriend, it's hilarious that his Deviant thought he's not aware of their crush. It's cute. 

Hmm... it'll be nice if he and the Freelancer could invite the Energetic and their Vampire lover into their bed one of these days. Regardless if they've been Marked; honestly, that just made the couple as appealing as the biblical Forbidden Fruit. 

And besides, Gavin has a strong feeling that the Freelancer wouldn't oppose the idea. It'll be the perfect anniversary present for his Deviant. 

"...Was that supposed to be a compliment?" They ask warily. Oops, looks like he's coming on a little too strongly. Time to take it down a notch. 

"It's whatever you want it to be. Anyway, now that you guys are... partners, what say you get to know us better, hmm? My lover has been eager to be friends with you." Gavin explains. You whip your head at him incredulously. Is he seriously doing what you think he's doing!? "I'm Gavin, by the way. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." 

The Energetic look confused, and you can't blame them. You need to save them before Gavin proposes something as crazy as an orgy on your behalf! 

You laugh awkwardly, bringing their attention to you. "Right! Partners! I'd love to be yours - I-I mean, uh, for school stuff! Yeah! Can we exchange numbers?" 

"Smooth, Deviant." Gavin teases. Something caught his interest, not that you notice as you and the Energetic trade contact information. They compliment the cute picture you have as your Home Screen (it's a selfie shot of you and Gavin, Lasko, Damien and Huxley during the previous game night. It's a shame that Caelum couldn't appear), and in return, you ask where did they buy their sick phone cover. 

While they still feel like the human embodiment of a fierce thunderstorm, it's nice to have a casual conversation with them. They're thoughtful, kind and fun that you soon find yourself calming down a little. 

"Not to cut this riveting conversation short, but are you sure that you don't want us to walk you home? It's getting really late, and we're more than happy to have you crash at our place for the night." Gavin interjects with a seductive grin, eyes half-lidded. 

"Umm..." 

Whoa, what happened to being friendly, Gavin!? You shoot him a look; he's going to drive them away! 

"We have an extra guest room at our apartment." You hurried to explain. "So it's totally cool if your place is far away or something." 

Their hesitation melts to understanding. The last thing that you want is a misunderstanding between you two. 

"You guys are sweet, but I'll be alright. Actually, I'm about to leave the campus too. I'm just going to hang out at the cafeteria until he arrives." They said. You have a pretty good idea who 'he' is judging by their soft smile. 

Gavin, for some reason, amp up his game. With a smirk, he cajoles, "Since he hasn't shown up yet, how about you hang out with us for a bit? There's a bar not too far from here - "

You flinched, and Gavin automatically shuts up and pulls you close to his side when a Vampire appears behind the Electro Energetic. It was so sudden that his appearance was a blur at first. 

"Vincent? You're done with class already?" They blink. An arm snaked around their waist as the Vampire pulled his Mate close to his chest. The Energetic had to crane their head up slightly to look at him. 

He's as tall as Gavin. Dressed in a casual black coat that screams money with a dark grey shirt accompanied by a pair of black jeans and boots. His silver studs, rings and watch glimmer underneath the fluorescent lights. Everything about this man reminds you of a panther sizing up its prey. 

You gulped. He's currently glaring daggers at you and your boyfriend. You're itching to stutter out a, "This isn't what it looks like!" for some reason. 

Now, ever since you learned about the existence of magic and Empowered creatures, you did your best to be open-minded. Even that whole ordeal with Vega didn't stop you from reaching out to the various Daemons attending the academy. 

However, you haven't managed to befriend a Vampire due to their night classes, and even the few times you stay back like today, most of them are running back and forth through the hallways to catch their next lesson. 

So to be the target of a pissed off Vampire made you uncomfortable. You want to fidget, but Gavin's arm secured around you ease some of that tension. 

"Mm-hmm. I'm on break right now, so I can drive you back home. You done with that talk with your guidance counsellor?" The Vampire inquired, eyes still glued at you and Gavin. 

"All done. We lost track of time when we discussed next semester's timetable for the Energetic course and potential careers once we graduate." His lover explains, unaware of the displeasure rolling off like waves from their boyfriend. "I think I need some time to go over them again. It's a bit much to take in."

The Vampire hums in acknowledgement. "We can go through them together this weekend if you like, Lovely. Maybe we can ask Will for help since he's coming over on Saturday for dinner too." 

Oh, you suppose that's why they reject the Earth Elemental players' invitation to the party. 

But the Vampire wasn't done. He assesses you and Gavin with narrowed eyes as if you were stains on the bottom of his boots. What the hell? "By the way, are these guys bothering you?" 

A chill sweeps through you, sending goosebumps crawling on your skin at the sudden shift of tone. He was warm and affectionate when speaking to his lover, but now? It's colder than ice.

Gavin, whose smirk turns into a shit-eating grin, is utterly unfazed at the Vampire's hostility. In fact, you would go as far as to say that he's relishing it. "We're just keeping your gorgeous Mate company while they're waiting for you. I was just about to propose that we move the conversation to a bar so we could all get to know one another a lot more... intimately." 

Oh god, they're so fucked. You have no idea why your boyfriend is trying to start shit up, but you're too tired to deal with this drama. So again, you try to salvage the situation. 

"Just as friends!" You quickly butt in. "We decide to be partners for an assignment in Covert Laws, so hanging out at a bar sounds like a good idea as friends." You're sprouting bullshits at this point, but you hope it's enough to save both of your asses. You also made sure to emphasise the word 'friends'. 

The Vampire quickly looks at the Energetic for confirmation, and they readily nod. His aggressive body posture relaxes somewhat, but he's still wary of you and Gavin. 

Maybe this is the best time to introduce yourself to him. 

"Uh, it's a little silly that we didn't introduce ourselves right away, but I'm a Freelancer." You mutter out rather awkwardly. Should you offer a hand to him? 

Gavin saves you from doing so. "And I’m their boyfriend, Gavin. An Incubus." 

"...Vincent Solaire." The Vampire - Vincent - reluctantly replies. 

Wait - his surname sounds familiar, though. You think you heard it in one of the classes about the supernatural factions in Dahlia... It's on the tip of your tongue... 

"Oh, we've heard all about you, Your Highness." Gavin slyly quips. "You and your lover are quite the celebrities around here." 

Holy shit. Solaire! The most powerful Vampire clan in the city! You remember now; the King has two progeny - A Vampire Princess & Prince. You didn't expect the Energetic boyfriend to be the Prince himself! What a twist! 

"Celebrities?" The Energetic - Lovely, as Vincent calls them - pipes up in confusion. The way their eyebrows furrow is adorable, but you wisely keep that to yourself. 

They really are a mesmerising couple. You detect the perfume that lingers around Lovely is sweet and misty. It's calming yet so light that it dances just out of your reach; like a coy lover. Slowly driving you mad with desire. Vincent's cologne reminds you of husk and cedar. Subtle, but once you catch a whiff of it, it'll stay within your mind for hours on end. Wondering if that particular scent will ever return - like the perfect one night stand. 

It says a lot about the couple. 

"We haven't done anything wrong." Vincent Solaire stated, voice as hard as steel. "I don't know why you're trying to rile us up, Incubus, but I don't appreciate you and your lover hitting on my Mate when I made it clear that I Mark them." 

Ooooh, he's jealous! Wait - did you come across as flirty to him!? Did Gavin purposely flirt with Lovely to make Vincent jealous? You've completely lost the plot. 

"Consider it as an act of public service," Gavin answers, easily brushing off the Vampire Prince's irritability. "Besides, how can I not when you both are half of the student body's recent fantasies." 

Lovely 'eeped' when Vincent bare his fangs at your boyfriend. "Back off, Gavin. Lovely is mine. Not yours or the Freelancer's." 

Whoa, whoa! A severe misunderstanding is boiling here! No one is stealing Lovely away from him! 

Fortunately, Lovely has gotten tired of the conversation. With a put-out sigh, they pat the arm around their waist to capture Vincent's attention. It worked. "No one is stealing the other's partner, Vince. It's all good; chill. You know you're the only one for me, right?" Here, they peck his cheek. "When did you get so possessive?" 

Vincent grumbled but didn't explain himself, so Lovely just shook their head. 

"Anyway, we better get going before Vincent's next class starts. It was nice meeting you two. I'll text you soon so we can plan on how to tackle that project." 

You give a shaky smile and a thumbs up. "Looking forward to it." 

Immediately after you said that, Vincent bares his fangs to you next. Oh my god, this guy needs to fucking relax! 

"We're going! We're going! C'mon, Vincent. You're driving me home. Now." 

And with that, you watch as Lovely drags the Vampire Prince to the parking lot. It's a strange yet comical sight. You only sigh in relief when they're out of your view. 

"I thought I saw my life flashing before my eyes!" You complain. Those were the single most stressful moments that you’ve encountered— second to Vega invading your home. 

"I think that went well, Deviant." Gavin objected, very pleased with himself. "He's pissed now, but he and his Mate will be thanking us soon." 

So you were right; Gavin purposely flirted with Lovely just to rile Vincent up, and for what? Possessive, sexy time later tonight? Oh, whatever. That's enough drama for one night; you seriously just need to pass out now. 

And with that, the two of you head home without realising your interactions with the power couple of D.A.M.N didn't go by unnoticed by the several students who were hovering close. 

-

"Are you hurting anywhere, Lovely?" 

"I'm alright, Vincent. The hickeys and bruises are healing nicely; my body still feels a bit sore but not enough to cripple me, so stop hovering near the door." 

Vincent guilty did as he’s told and takes a seat on the corner of the bed. He watches you apply some light makeup on your face and neck in front of the vanity table as you're getting ready to head out to the academy. Your outfit compliments your look and, most importantly, hides any patches of skin except for your hands. 

Vincent really went all out last weekend after his night classes ended. It's obvious that Gavin unleashed something within your lover, and you will freely admit that an unrestrained Vincent makes for a very fun and wild night. 

The moment Will came over and realised that Vincent re-Mark you an hour before he arrives, he graciously decided to take a rain check and promise to have dinner with the two of you some other time. 

Once Vincent gets it out of his system, he teased before leaving you gobsmacked and Vincent a blushing mess. 

"You know, your guidance counsellor wouldn't mind if you're absent from classes today, Lovely. Probably." Vincent tries; a part of him doesn't want his Lovely to attend their lessons while their body is still healing. Then again, that part also whispers that the Incubus and his lover would be around them without his supervision. 

Nope. No. Bad Vincent. Lovely is more than capable of taking care of themselves. They don't need him acting like a jealous, clingy boyfriend. 

However, something that the Incubus bothered him. 

"You and your lover are quite the celebrities around here." 

What did he mean by that? He and Lovely had been playing good students the entire time they've been on campus! Their assignments are always delivered on time, grades nothing but above average, and they keep to themselves to avoid any typical college dramas.  

Is it because of his status? For some reason, Vincent feels like it's more complicated than that. What a headache. 

"Maybe, but I did promise the Freelancer that I’ll catch up with them to discuss our project," You commented and spritz your favourite perfume on your wrists and neck. You love this scent, despite it being cheap and common. "Vincent, honey, you're making that face again." 

"It's my face, Lovely." 

"Yeah, well, you have your happy-snappy-neck face again, Vincent." You dryly point out before sitting beside the Vampire. "Did that Incubus really rub you the wrong way?" Your voice is gentle. You didn't get any bad vibes coming from Gavin and the Freelancer - just genuine, harmless, friendly flirting. In a way, you welcome it as their attempts helped you drive your anxiety away. 

God, walking up to them was hard enough. You always feel a little intimidated whenever you're around charismatic people. 

"I don't know... I thought they were making you nervous, and the words that kept coming out of that Daemon's mouth? He knew what he was doing; I just can't figure out what or why." Vincent admits, frustrated. 

Seeing him look so frustrated saddens you, so you propose a suggestion. "How about this, I'll ask the Freelancer what that whole thing on Friday was all about, and if it's anything gross, I'll give you a call so you can deal with them. How's that?" 

It assured Vincent. Seeing his tiny smile urge you to peppered his face with kisses until he laughs. With your boyfriend now properly appeased, you leave the apartment for D.A.M.N. 

It's a bright Monday morning. You hope that this week will be a little kinder to you than the previous one. However, the moment you arrived on campus, everyone was glancing at you curiously. When you made eye contact with the stares, the students couldn't walk away fast enough. 

Weird. 

Your first class of the day is on the second floor, so you didn't waste any time heading for the stairs. Students mingle around as they go about their day; some grab breakfast at the convenient store, while others chat with their friends at the cafeteria and lounge room. A Water Elemental is performing simple tricks at the marble fountain to an adoring crowd.

Just as you rounded a corner, the crowd parted ways with a subtlety of a serial killer in slasher movies, which is to say, absolutely none whatsoever to reveal your new friend. The Freelancer is flanked by their boyfriend, Gavin, on the left and on their right, the famous player in the Earth Elemental team Huxley and one of the academy's guidance counsellors, Lasko. 

You couldn't help but notice that everyone is giving them a wide berth. Not that it matters when Gavin's body is positioned to shield the Freelancer from bumping into any of the passing students. Huxley passes a bottle of orange juice to them while Lasko is staring at something behind the Freelancer. He mutters something under his breath.  

A loud voice suddenly bounces off the walls. "What happened to my water tumbler, Freelancer!?" 

You and every other student in the area watch as the Freelancer turns around and loudly replies, "Don't worry! I already got you a new tumbler, Damien! It looks exactly like your old one. Except it's pastel pink with kittens on it, and the shape looks like a really fat snowman with bunny ears for straws." To make a point, the Freelancer rummage inside of their backpack and proudly present the weirdest looking water tumbler you had ever seen in your life to their boys. 

"AAAAAHHHHH!" 

"You know you could at least see it before you judge it, Damien." The Freelancer grumbled and shoved the tumbler back. Huxley gently pats their shoulder in a comforting manner. Lasko laughs nervously while Gavin continues to protect his lover silently, all the while looking at ease. 

Everyone knows of the Freelancer and their boyfriends. They're the most popular group in D.A.M.N for a reason. Friendly, yet no one can be a part of their group due to the tight bond they have with one another.

The Freelancer is quickly shaping up to be a remarkable magical individual in their own right, marching to the beat of their own drums rather than the world's. Unwaveringly kind and friendly, constantly making sure the people around them are comfortable and safe. 

In terms of academic performance, Damien remains unchallenged among his peers. Everyone could tell that he would undoubtedly change their world for the better the moment he graduates, especially in governing. He's also known for his fiery temper, yet that fire becomes a hearth when it comes to the Freelancer. More than once, students have stumbled upon them huddled close in the library, softly discussing the future they wanted. 

If Damien is known for his academic excellence, then Huxley is famous for his prowess in the field. His mastery over his element made the younger Earth Elementals look up to him as their role model while his teammates view him as their ace. Charming, cheerful yet a bit absentminded at times, and even then, you can't help but be fond of him. You can find the Freelancer cheering him from the bleachers during his matches, and once Huxley won the game, he would immediately launch himself at them. Sweats, dirt and grass all over him, but the Freelancer would laugh as he hoisted them up in his embrace. 

Lasko is an odd addition to their group, but once he drops his stuttering, he shows just how capable he is as one of the academy's guidance counsellors. Acknowledged as one of the most powerful Air Elemental of his generation, Lasko is well on track to graduate D.A.M.N with honours, and while the future might be uncertain, students like to speculate that he will remain with the Freelancer and the others no matter what. Sometimes you can even catch a glimpse of them hanging out at one of the local cafes and see how bright and alive Lasko can be when around the Freelancer. 

Gavin came with a mystery trailing his saunter. See, no one knew how exactly he and the Freelancer first met. Speculations range from a cute, accidental meet up in a random convenience store to the Incubus boldly inviting them into a threesome when the Freelancer stumbled upon him mid-feeding. Lovely wonders if there's a betting pool going around the academy. The seniors would recognise Gavin, for he was their peer before he suddenly dropped out and vanished for a while. But judging by his frequent presence around the Freelancer, some say that he's looking forward to retaking his previous course. But whatever the reason may be, no one can deny the chemistry he has with the Freelancer. How fiercely protective he is of them when the Freelancer isn't looking. 

They're certainly an intriguing group, that's for sure. 

And when Gavin notices you were watching them, he winks at you. No doubt as an Incubus, he could scent what you and Vincent had been up to the entire weekend. 

That's what you get for a magical academy, after all. 

-

PS: Everyone in D.A.M.N (including Lovely & Vincent) hilariously assumes that the Freelancer is in a poly relationship with Gavin, Damien, Lasko & Huxley when in reality, they're just with Gavin. BBBBuuuttt... Gavin could detect the romantic/lustful feelings the other bois harbour for the Freelancer but kept it to himself for now. He's just waiting for the Freelancer to feel the same way so he could give them all The Talk™ and then go buy a bigger bed!

Anyway, I seriously had a lot of fun writing for this oneshot! It's been a while since I had that writing fever again so I hope you guys enjoyed it!

[henrycavillobsessed]

A Christmas Distraction

Henry x first person reader

Summary: When your mother visit for Christmas, Henry finds a way to distract you from the ensuing stress.

Words: 1552

CW: smut (sex), overbearing mothers/strained mother-daughter relationship

Notes: Here’s a little smutty one-shot I wrote this evening, the last of my own ideas before I start on my 1000 follower celebration requests. Enjoy and Merry Christmas everyone! 

“So darling, we’ll be round for about 12pm. I expect lunch will be nearly ready then will it? I could bring the turkey, save you the trouble. Yours is usually a little dry anyway…” My mother’s voice droned on in my ear. I was still reeling from the news that she had just invited herself and my step-father round to mine and Henry’s house for Christmas. I honestly thought I’d gotten away with it this year, having heard nothing from her until now- now being the 22nd of December with only three days to go- so I thought it’d just be me, Henry and Kal this year. Small, intimate, relaxing, just perfect. Why did I pick up the phone? Why did I say yes? I finally come round to my senses and replied to my mother. “Mum, I’m a chef for a living. I’m more than capable of cooking the turkey.”  “Well yes love, but I don’t want you to get stressed, we both know what you can get like,” I only get like that around you, mother, I thought, and then sighed. “Mum, I’ll do all the cooking, see you on the day. Bye -bye now,” I hung up before she could say anything else. 

Kal suddenly started barking madly. I looked up and saw Henry walk in through the front door, home from the gym, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes and grinning at me whilst ruffling Kal’s fur. The sight of my man all damp and in his work-out gear was usually enough to launch myself at him and have him there and then on the living room floor. But my most recent phone call had seriously affected my mood, and Henry noticed. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he said, frowning, joining me on the sofa and wrapping an arm around me. I leant into his embrace. “My mother.” I said, my voice glum. “Oh no, what’s she done now?” I nearly laughed at his response. Henry was no stranger to how strained mine and mum’s relationship could be. Thankfully, he was supportive, always had been. “She’s coming for Christmas dinner, with John.” “When did she lay this on you? Doesn’t she know it’s three days until the 25th?” “Of course she does, she just doesn’t care. She rang me not long ago. Didn’t even ask, just invited herself. God why didn’t we go to your parent’s house again like last year?” I said, fondly remembering the festive season the year previously where Henry and I had spent an incredibly enjoyable week in Jersey with his parents and brothers. “Oh love. What can I do to help?” Henry asked, rubbing a hand up and down my back. I sighed again, and then reluctantly got up from the sofa. “I suppose I’ll have to go shopping. Care to join?” “We’ll take the Range Rover. We’ll need the bigger boot for all the extra wine you’re sure to need. Let’s go,” he said, grabbing the car keys.

Three days later and it truly was worse than I’d imagined. John, my step-father, had driven over, which meant mother had already started drinking, no doubt opening a bottle of Bucks Fizz before the sun had even risen on Christmas morning. She hadn’t been here ten minutes when she started in on my appearance, commenting on how my new hair cut just wasn’t flattering on a woman my age. She even insulted Henry, saying and I quote “don’t they pay you enough to afford nicer clothes on these little movies you do?” Henry’s fame didn’t faze her in the slightest, if anything it made her even ruder, but Henry, the perfect gentlemen as always, just smiled in response, although the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Once I’d got mum and John settled in the living room with drinks, Henry found me in the kitchen opening a bottle of red wine with every intent of just necking the whole thing. He reached up and grabbed a wine glass from the cupboard above the sink and gently took the bottle out of my hands and poured for me. I sat down, rubbing the spot above my eyes where a headache was forming. Henry sat down next to me, handing me the wine. “I’m so sorry, this wasn’t the Christmas I had planned for us,” I said to him. He squeezed my leg, and smiled. “Any Christmas I spend with you is perfect. I just hate seeing you like this, so stressed. It’s not fair.” “You can say that again,” I mumbled, sipping my wine. Henry stood up and leant against the counter top. He suddenly looked very mischievous. “I have an idea. What you need is a distraction.” “I don’t have time for distractions, I’ve got to do all this cooking because God forbid I get anything wrong or don’t serve it on time…” I replied, waving a hand towards the stovetop where multiple pans were boiling away. “Come on, it will take five minutes…” “Henry I can’t-“ I started, but was interrupted with a shrill “Y/N!” coming from the living room, accompanied by what sounded like a fork being tapped against an empty wine glass. “Changed my mind, a distraction sounds fantastic,” I said, necking my wine and taking his hand. I was surprised when he led me to the room just next door, the utility room where I did the laundry. “What are we doing in here?” I laughed. Henry slid a box of laundry detergent across the door, essentially locking us in. He straightened up and turned around, licking his lips with a twinkle in his eye. I stopped laughing immediately. I knew what that look meant. “I told you, baby,” He walked towards me, slowly backing me up against the wall. “What you need is a distraction. And I am more than happy to be the one doing the distracting…” I swallowed, awareness coursing through my body. He was everywhere, his muscular arms caging me in, his scent threatening to overpower me as he leant in slowly and took my mouth with his in a smoldering kiss, the effect of which I could feel pooling down below. I was instantly wet and wanting for him. “And what type of distraction,” I panted. “Did you have in mind Mr Cavill?” “The type where my cock is deep inside of you.” I almost came there and then listening to his voice, my arousal building. I didn’t know how much I needed that until he’d said it and now, I was desperate. “And what if our guests hear us?” “Hmm. Maybe I should gag you.” He smiled the smile of the devil as he reached into the clean laundry pile and produced one of ties. Staring into my eyes, he asked wordlessly for my consent. I nodded clearly, my mouth dry, my pussy soaked. He rolled the tie up and pushed it into my open, waiting mouth, using another tie to hold it in place which he knotted at the back of my head. “Turn around,” he commanded, and I obeyed. He leant down and placed a tender kiss on my neck, then another, and another. I moaned; the sound muffled. I felt his smile against my neck. His hands roamed downwards, one sliding into my trousers and then into my panties. His breath hissed as he felt the evidence of my arousal. He circled my clit, the feeling exquisite, and it wasn’t long until he brought me to a gentle, rolling orgasm. I could feel his dick hard against my back, and silently willed him to put it inside me, and, as in tune as we always were, Henry complied. He pulled us away from the wall, turning us to face the dryer. One of his beautiful hands pushed slightly against my back, urging me to bend forwards. He grasped both of my hands in his other, placing them on top of the dryer with a whispered don’t move and then suddenly, finally, he was inside me, easing himself in gently, his groan echoing mine as he filled me up. And then he was moving, each thrust hitting me inside just right and suddenly I could feel that pressure building again, I was coming, I was coming hard around him, and he was emptying himself hotly into me, our joint orgasm exploding through us and at that moment I had never been more grateful for the gag. Gently, Henry pulled out from me and removed my makeshift gag. “Jesus, Cavill…” “I hope that helped” He winked. After we finished putting our clothes back on, he kissed me quickly on the lips and flashed me his award-winning smile. Shaking my head with a smile of my own I followed him out of the utility room back into the kitchen, timing it near perfect as my mother walked in just after. “Y/N! I was calling you! Now, where are we at with this food? Oh, that turkey looks awful, dry as a bone! I keep telling you, the secret is- “ “Oh, mother, do shut up,” I said, shocking her into silence. Henry winked again as he left the room, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter, as I turned back to the stovetop, ignoring my mother’s outraged commentary, feeling thoroughly relaxed and distracted.

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter Nine

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6500

Warnings: Language as always, warning of racist language (Nush talking about her mother's experiences), yearning, fluff to second base (yes, my darlings- IT IS ON!), alcohol is mentioned, food, anxiety attacks.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

People often think artists

Create with their hands

But really they create

with their hearts

So please be gentle

For we wear our vulnerability

On our sleeves

And freely give all we have

Hoping someone will fall

In love with the parts we offer

R. Evelyn

Chapter Nine

The sharp buzz of the door startles you out of your daydream. Laden with roughly the entire contents of your spice cupboard, vegetables, meat and prawns, your hands are crisscrossed with creases from where the weight of the totes has gouged at your skin. A smart-looking kindly gentleman greets you, “You must be Ms Pierce. Mr Pike has asked for you to wait here for him.”

Wow! Marcus’ place has a concierge - who did he have to blow to get a place like this?!

Throwing the bags onto one of the hotel lounge-like chairs, you slump into another as you rub soreness from your hands. A small ping tells you that the lift has arrived - you look over in the direction of the noise, a tremor of excitement rippling through you. An adorably scruffy Marcus, wearing old jeans and a t-shirt, steps out - his face utterly beaming on seeing you. “Hey! How are you doing?” he leans in to kiss your cheek twice - hang on, when did this start being a thing?

“Why didn’t you let me pick you up? You’ve carried so much over- lemme see your hands,” his brow knits on seeing the rapidly reddening welts as he takes your hands in his, brushing his thumbs gently across your palms.

“You live four roads away from me - they’re not that bad! And anyway, you can help me now- which floor do you live on?” You outwardly roll your eyes at the sweetness Marcus shows you, secretly enjoying the stroke of his fingers and the ghostly press of his lips still burning a hole in your cheek.

Marcus takes all of the bags from the chair, refusing point blank to entertain you helping him to take them upstairs - you watch as his arms twitch under the weight, enjoying the mixture of confusion and shock at your strength across his face, “you carried all of this?”

Nodding at him, you try to take a bag again, but he dangles it just out of reach, “Watch it - you do realise that I have two other brothers apart from Ads? I will think nothing of rugby tackling you to the floor and pinning you down,” you warn, enjoying the flush brought to his cheeks.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Marcus flusters as he calls the lift, handing you the smallest, lightest bag.

✪✪✪✪✪

Exiting at the top floor, you’re taken aback by the amount of light and quiet that washes throughout the building. Feeling so removed from the shadows cast from the tower blocks and the hustle and bustle of the streets below, the broad daylight offers a sense of serenity, a peace that invites itself into the soul and makes itself at home. As Marcus unlocks the door to his flat, you kick off your shoes at the entrance, “You don’t have to do that,” he offers through the keys in his mouth, holding the door open with his elbow, still refusing any help from you.

“Oh believe me, if I didn’t, my mum’s radar would go off and I would be cruising for a bruising,” you giggle, taking in the glorious spaciousness of his apartment, “I promise my feet aren’t too stinky and that I put on clean socks.”

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Marcus’ eyes crinkle at you, “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

“A coffee would be ace - strong and black please,” you reply, your gaze drinking in the details of his home. Books line the shelves along one wall - such a mixture of titles ranging from airport bestsellers to obscure art catalogues - the relief to see actual paper and hardbacks adorning the shelves rather than trinkets and plants when so many keep their books electronically in their pockets.

A couple of large canvases lie propped against another - long hours preventing them from being hung - their bright colours sure to bring joyful hues to quite a stark room. There are a few photo frames dotted around - mostly pictures of a moment in time rather than poses - of people you assume are friends and family from back in the States. Handing you a steaming mug, Marcus looks over your shoulder as you look at a photo of an older couple dancing and laughing at a wedding, “That’s my mamá and papá at my oldest sister’s wedding. It was such a magical day - just so much love in the air.”

“You can feel the joy radiating from them,” you offer, lowering your gaze from him to grab the frame next to the picture of his parents, “Are these your sisters or cousins? You all look very alike.”

“Yeah, my little sisters,” he grins proudly. “This one is Beth - she’s two years younger and is a paediatrician in Texas. Has two kids with her wife, Sophie. And this one is Cat - she’s doing her own thing out on the West Coast as a musician. They definitely inherited all the clever and cool genes.”

“Hah! You’re kinder to your sisters than I am to my brothers,” you grin, “They’re all total idiots but due to some weird genetic and biological insistence, I still love them.”

Taking a gulp of your coffee, you turn back towards him, “Come on you, we’d better get to work if you want a curry this evening.”

He pouts, looking more like a sulky little boy than a middle aged man. You can’t help but laugh at the sad puppy dog eyes he is conjuring at the thought of work, “Oh poppet, what’s wrong?” you teasingly mock.

“I kinda hoped you were a magician who could just magic a curry outta nowhere so we could watch films til the others arrive,” Marcus grumps shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Well, there is UberEats for that but you horrible lot put me up to this so you’re going to help,” you wag your finger at him, “But as you’re the only one here, you get the honour of being the chief taster,” you add, tapping him playfully on the nose.

With a soft huff and a furrow of the brow, Marcus guides you into the kitchen where, whilst he was making your coffee, he has helpfully already put all the fresh produce in his fridge as the sides are delightfully blank apart from the bags of spices.

“What are we making today, Chef?”

“Ok, meat dishes are a spiced yoghurt leg of lamb, a keema - don’t you give me that look, a cardamom butter chicken, and, a prawn and courgette curry,” you turn to Marcus’ fridge to find the lamb, “Needs to come to room temperature before we cook it.”

“My tummy is rumbling already,” Marcus adds, his eyes glinting excitedly as he licks along his lower lip, the skin glistening damply. You have never quite figured out whether your love of his lips is due to their fullness or the association with the kindness of his words.

“Hah- you’re not getting away without having some veggies, too, mister,” you cluck as you hand him a bag of onions and several bulbs of garlic to skin, chop and crush for the various dishes.

“Ok, Moooom,” Marcus dramatically rolls his eyes at your dictate, “I admit, I’d rather eat sugary or salty things over green stuff but I can make an exception for curried veg.”

The arch of your eyebrow virtually reaches your hairline at him teasingly calling you mom, so you reach for the towel, twist it and flick him hard on what you’d hoped would be his hip but catch him square on his arse instead.

A yelp of pain and wide eyes greet your action, “Did you just…? Oh, it is on.! You might think you’re tough from your brothers but my sisters taught me sneaky tactics.”

��Come at me, bro!” you taunt from the other side of the kitchen, putting up a boxing stance.

Brandishing the hand without the paring knife in your general direction, he answers, “Nope, gonna use the element of surprise and attack when you least expect it!”

Tutting your tongue at Marcus’ weak ass response, you grab the spices you need to prepare under the power of your pestle and mortar. With the waft of roasting cumin soaring through the air and your battle with your boss at a supposedly declared ceasefire, everything starts to feel comfortable and easy again. You could be six years old and standing on the chair next to your mum, watching like a hawk as she lovingly prepared meals for your family with an ever burgeoning belly. It was then, during those hours shared in the galley kitchen that became your time with her when normally it felt pretty split between her work as a GP and your brothers.

What the fuck… You jump out of your skin when a warm, solid wall presses you out of your nostalgic reverie, “Hah! Pinned ya! Sneaky tactics- told ya they worked,” a deep, soft voice whispers in your ear.

Your heart flutters like a bird trying to escape its rib cage with the closeness of Marcus, the heat rising through your body from your proximity to him - a visceral response to the glorious cocktail of masculine smell from his aftershave and body wash.

What do I do next?

Why can’t I bloody think straight?

Wiggling yourself around so that you face him, his face now so close that you can feel his warm breath upon your cheeks. Your eyes playfully catch the steady gaze of Marcus’ deep soulful pools. It would only take the smallest of movements to reach forwards and kiss him right on that stupidly gorgeous, plush Cupid’s bow and crease. But… what if he doesn’t want that? He’s my fucking boss - that would be a stellar move to make…

Instead of the tiny incline forwards to press your lips against his as every inch of you screams to do so, you drop to the floor and crawl out from between his legs, “Not pinned well enough it seems,” you tease haltingly as your tongue sticks in your dry throat.

As you check the browning of the cumin seeds, out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus’ head drop sadly, hearing a small sigh - his hands still upon the work surface and feet not having moved from the position he had pinned you in moments earlier.

Did he want to...? No, surely not.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Nush,” Marcus humbly apologises, pushing himself off the side, “I hope that I haven’t made things awkward.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” you softly say, pouring the roasted cumin into the mortar, ready to be ground, “I was the one who flicked you on your arse - I am the one who should be apologising.”

You beckon gently to Marcus, who has now taken refuge in the furthest corner of the kitchen from you - wringing his hands instead of chopping the onions, “Come over here - I want you to experience one of my most favourite smells of childhood. These are roasted cumin seeds and when you grind them, they release the most heavenly scent.”

After a few grinds, you offer the bowl towards Marcus’ face as he closes the gap between you, “I… Wow! I wouldn’t have thought it would make such a difference but it’s almost like you’ve entirely transformed it. See,” the dimple deepens in that right cheek of his, “you are a magician.”

“I love how spices - a bit like paint - can take on completely different characters depending on how you treat them. Leave the spice whole and you have this mild and fragrant taste. If you crush them, then their attitude comes back tenfold with a vengeance. Toast them, and they may as well be Clark Kent in a phone booth.”

Looking up you see Marcus gazing at you with a sweet half smile on his face - could he like me… like that?

“Sorry, you don’t need to hear me blathering on,” you fluster, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture as the heat rises through your face.

Shaking his head gently without dropping your regard, “No. No, please don’t ever stop. Your passion for things is beautiful.”

“Growing up, I didn’t realise that other people didn’t have whole cupboards filled to the brim with herbs, spices and seasonings. I mean, for all the damage the British Empire reeked, you’d have hoped that the spices would have entered more of their culture, but no! Apparently, my family was the weird one for having food with a flavour,” you shrug your shoulders at some of the ridiculous things you’d heard as a child - accusations of differences you’d never thought to be of note.

Marcus chuckles at your indignance, “It’s funny you should say that. I didn’t realise that my mamá had an accent until it was pointed out to me when I was a kid.”

Noting your slightly confused expression, Marcus explains, “She’s Argentinian- came to the States as a political refugee as she was a journalist following the disappearances during the Dirty War. Met my dad, and I came along very soon after, and the rest is history..”

You can’t help but laugh at the flush on Marcus’ cheeks as he recounts his personal history to you, “Love can’t be held back when it hits and it’s obvious that they’re still crazy about each other now from that photo.”

“Exactly, no point in wasting time when you know what you want,” Marcus grins, looking at his feet.

“My parents have a similar story. My dad is as English as they come - I mean we’re on a freaking island so there’s no true thing as being completely English. My mum is from Pakistan - Karachi - it’s in the South.”

“She came over due to the fighting between East and West Pakistan - the two countries that are now Pakistan and Bangladesh. It kept interrupting her studies to become a doctor so she came to England and restarted her degree here.”

Marcus’ brow creases in thought, “Why did she restart her degree? Could the credits not just be transferred to the college she moved to in the UK?”

“Hah- yeah. It was the seventies, during a time where all Southern Asians were P*kis - no matter where they were from on the Indian subcontinent- and thought of as dirty, lesser beings. There were constant race riots for anyone who wasn’t ethnically white or English. She would never have been taken seriously with her mediocre medical training from some Adobe hut in the middle of a jungle,” you fume, pounding the seeds into fragments. The mortar being threatened with the same fate too.

Marcus’ fingers wrap around your wrist to try and prevent your rage at the ignorance of others from causing you an injury, “I am so sorry,” he pulls you into a warm, tender hug, tucking your head under his chin, “How long before food can take care of itself so we can put a film on? I think we both need a rest.”

“Hmmm, ten minutes and then most things can simmer or be switched off ready for a reheat or proper cook this evening,” you say, leaning reluctantly out of his comforting arms to go check on the bubbling saucepans of food.

“‘K. I’ll go get things set up so you can flop for a bit,” Marcus touches you gently on your shoulder as he goes to set up the front room. You go to squeeze his hand but it’s removed from your shoulder too quickly for your response.

✪✪✪✪✪

“You ready?” Marcus calls through the wall as you turn off the heat from the final pans.

“Mhm,” you mumble in response to his question - double, triple checking that everything is off. Too many fire alarms ruining perfectly lovely meals or moments.

“What did you pick?” You ask, curling up on the other end of the sofa to Marcus, “Do you have no cushions?”

“Shit, no -I’m a guy, what can I say? - lemme grab the pillows from the bed,” Marcus jumps up, calling through from his bedroom, “Bet you have loads on your couch.”

“A fuckload, but, mainly to hide the fact the springs have gone. It’s like a precarious balancing act of comfort on there,” you surreptitiously sniff the pillow, inhaling the smell of Marcus’ shampoo, “Did you give me your pillow?”

A confused look is shot at you from the other end of the sofa, “Whaddya mean?”

“Smells of your hair,” you say as you squish it into the perfect comfy shape, “Like a mixture of lemon and eucalyptus.”

“That’s a sharp nose you’ve got. I gave you the other side though,” Marcus huffs through a chuckles he shakes his head at your somewhat strange comment, “Guess I’ve been sleeping across both sides then.”

“Best thing about sleeping alone- getting to starfish across the bed. Unless of course…”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at your awkward dig to find out whether he’d brought home the goddess from Friday’s antics, “So you wanna know if I brought home Kemi?”

“She was very beautiful. You’d have been mad not to,” you try to school your expression as best you can, keeping your eyes glued to Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly singing about true love, desperate to hide the jealousy coursing through your veins.

“Must be mad then. Didn’t even kiss her,” Marcus honestly answers whilst copying your tactic of staring at the tv, “She could see that there was someone else I liked so it would have been cruel to have done anything.”

You mull this over in silence, trying not to speak, to ask a million questions.

“Nush.”

“Mhm?”

“Can I talk to y…”

You both jump as an alarm goes off on your phone to remind you to turn the lamb down in the oven.

“Oh shit. Hold that thought,” you jump up from the sofa, heading in the direction of the kitchen with zero thought of what the man at the end of the sofa is desperately trying to tell you. Fiddling with Marcus’ ridiculously swanky oven until it looks like it is doing what you want it to do, you walk back in with two ice cold beers from his fridge.

“Raided your fridge,” you cheekily grin, holding one out to Marcus, the condensation running, down your fingers, “Hope you don’t mind!”

“Good thinking, Batman,” Marcus nods in appreciation, “Any more alarms set to scare us both?”

“Only due to go off when the film is done, so…” you yawn widely, “We’ve got a while yet.”

Marcus’ hand that was slung over the back of the sofa, lifts to stroke your shoulder, “You sleepy? C'mere, you.” With a soft tug of your t-shirt sleeve, he pulls you into his side - your willingness to sink into his broad chest very apparent. Your ear is pressed against him, his heartbeat singing a lullaby to you as his fingers stroke and caress the silken waves of your hair. You wonder at how this man - a total stranger a week ago - has seemingly knitted himself into becoming a cocoon of safety for you, his gentleness and calm offering a haven of tranquility in your otherwise cacophonous world, as the light in the room slowly fades to black.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Uh oh.”

“Hey, welcome back, sunshine!” a gentle pair of fingers stroke back the hair that had drifted into your face as you dozed.

“Sorry for falling asleep. Again,” trying to finesse your way through the heat flaming your cheeks, you offer an awkward grin towards your chuckling pillow, “Guess we’d better start getting things finished as we’ve only got a couple of hours until everyone arrives.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Marcus! I don’t want to move either but this curry won’t finish cooking itself.”

“Spit spot, there’s work to be done,” Marcus trills as he adopts his best attempt at a British accent.

“What the fuck was that? Did you just turn into Dick Van Dyke or something?” You tease mercilessly at the appalling sound coming from those lips, choking back laughter at his mock offended face.

“C’mon, you’re right. We’d better get moving,” Marcus stands with a stretch and a creak before reaching back to tug you to your feet.

Back under the glowing lights of Marcus’ kitchen, his presence is now constantly close to yours as you glide together around the space - stirring, chopping and checking. Every time he passes, above the general aroma of cumin and coriander, the onions and garlic, you can smell the cedar and amber upon his skin- a deliciously masculine scent that only seeks to entangle your senses further.

“Here, try this,” you hold out a heaped teaspoon of mince curry to Marcus, “This is the keema - I promise that I only put in the two chillies you chopped for me, this time.”

“Mmm, that’s so good,” he says thickly between chews, stealing the spoon from you as he dives in for a second, third, fourth spoonful.

“Hahaha! Leave some for the others- and you need to try it with some raita and fried onions too,” you check through your dog-eared, yellowed and slightly sticky recipe book that your mum had handed you the day you’d left home at eighteen - a memo of all the times you had cooked them together.

“Shit, I’d better start the chicken,” going through the spices in front of you, you search for the cardamoms that would make the butter chicken sing, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Marcus’ head snaps up from the green beans he was preparing towards you, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I can’t find the cardamoms for the butter chicken - gah I knew I’d fuck this up!” you cry, scraping your trembling hands through your hair, eyes flashing around the room wildly as your cortisol rises, making you want to run and scream at your failure to feed your friends.

“Whoa - where’s this coming from? C’mon, look at me. Look at me, Nush,” Marcus has his hands on either side of your shoulders, squeezing them gently, “There’s enough here to feed our whole office for the week with the daals you prepared yesterday, the vegetables we’re about to make and the meats that we’ve cooked up already here. Andy is bringing all the rice and naan, Kiri is bringing beers and Dian is on gin and tonic duty. You have done more than enough and I will not allow you to get this upset over one missing ingredient especially when there is a small store downstairs that I’m sure will have it, if we cannot find it after we look for it together.”

After seeing your numb nod as an agreement, Marcus moves his hands to the side of your head to focus your gaze on him rather than the panic seeping through you. As he strokes his thumbs across your cheeks, you allow your eyes to close and your breathing to regain a normal pattern.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?” Marcus searches your now open eyes.

“My reactions are ridiculous. Most people tell me to stop being so stupid and that just whips the storm inside my head even more,” you whisper, “But you. You know how to slow everything down and stop the spinning.”

The corner of Marcus’ mouth twitches, “D’ya wanna know a secret?” You nod at him, “As you know, I was married before. When it ended, I totally spiralled. The world kept spinning too fast and I experienced constant anxiety, very nearly burning out of my role.

“I was lucky. My boss was understanding but made me promise to get some support. He knew of someone mental health trained within the FBI who was there for mainly hostage negotiations - not part of the true psych team but someone who could help without it turning up on your record.

“Kwame worked with me for almost a year - pretty much to the point my decree absolute came through. Our sessions were done on a track - by running with me, he was teaching me the skills I needed to control my fears. By my feet hitting the tarmac, he was grounding me. By going over running techniques, he was teaching me how to control my breathing- taking longer and deeper breaths. And running is just repetition. A mindful repetition that allows your brain to have a bit of a break.

“So when I see you start to spiral, I try to give you the same steps he taught me. Get you grounded, opposite me so you copy my breathing and hope that gets you on the right track.”

“Thank you,” you drop your head forwards, relaxing onto his chest. He feels so - safe.

“You don’t need to thank me. Well, okay maybe you do as look what I’ve just spotted,” Marcus holds the offending spice aloft.

“Oh my god, I could fucking kiss you. You have just saved the curry,” you dramatically declare, clutching the cardamom jar to your heart before placing it next to the other ingredients on the counter.

“Go on then.”

What?

His comment makes you snap your head over to catch Marcus’ tremulous gaze, his eyes darting between the floor and your lips. He takes a small step, closing the small distance between the two of you, threading his fingers between yours. Each slow movement offers an unspoken opportunity for you to step away. To tease him and move on with the day.

But why on Earth would you?

With your heart racing faster and faster, you lure him ever closer with your eyes, soft but absolute in their conviction of what was about to pass between you. A small part of you understands that when you kiss him, something will change forever. That within his lips you may find the place to call home - the aching in your stomach may cease and life could start to make sense again. The anxieties of the week washing away, the pain of your collective pasts and the hint of a brighter, happier future before you.

When he doesn’t move again, you seize the moment. Pushing up onto your socked tiptoes, you tilt your chin, inclining your face until your lips come to rest upon his in the sweetest, chastest kiss. Drawing back slightly to check that Marcus is okay with a raise of your eyebrows and widened eyes, he holds your gaze steadily, similarly stunned - a mirror of each other with racing hearts and slightly parted lips. It’s like in that moment everything around you ceases to exist as anything other than extraneous nonsense - all the noise inside your head silenced by that one touch.

A small dumbstruck smile creeps across Marcus’ lips before he lowers his head to press another gentle kiss upon you. Then another. Then another. Each press of your lips a little longer. A little deeper. Your lips part to allow his tongue entry as every single thought is quietened by the taste of him. Dropping hands for his to cradle your face and yours to thread through his hair as your bodies press together tightly.

Oh the taste of him is utterly exquisite! From where you’ve been using him as chief curry taster, there’s an element of spices with the tiniest hint of mint. And how you have missed having that beautifully solid warmth of his body next to yours. Inhaling his breaths that fall upon you, your hearts match each other’s rhythms as your lips explore each other, every sensation drawing together to create a humming ball of energy, like you are standing at the point where lightning strikes the Earth.

✪✪✪✪✪

Hands fisted tightly in each other’s clothing - both stuck in the quandary of wanting to tear the fabric from your bodies but also frightened of pushing the other too far. Finally pulling apart, you gaze upon Marcus - all lust blown pupils and dopey smiles. Your foreheads come back to rest against each other, unable to quite let go just yet, not wanting to break the spell and return to reality.

“I have wanted to kiss you since perhaps the first time I met you,” Marcus murmurs as his lips gently ghost over your cheeks, “Maybe even from seeing the photo in your file when Andy drove me here from the airport.”

“Was the person, me?” You quietly ask, finally with the confidence to finish that conversation, “The reason you didn’t kiss or sleep with the goddess?”

He drops his eyes as he gives you a small nod, “Normally, I’d have just asked you out but I was scared of fucking up. It’s been a long time since I felt a spark with anyone.

“You’ve entered my life in this whirlwind of intelligence, beauty and tenderness - I didn’t want to frighten you or make you feel uncomfortable if you didn’t reciprocate.”

A thousand thoughts flood your mind as Marcus says those words. All at once, you want to tell him how safe he makes you feel. How much now that you’ve started kissing him, you never want to stop. How the cruel critics of slumber, silence themselves when you feel his heartbeat against your cheek.

Instead you stand there, silent.

Trying to stroke out the creases you’ve created in his t-shirt as you attempt to find words to put into a logical order, you notice his face twitching when the material under your fingers makes contact with his sides, “Oh Marcus, are you ticklish?”

“Um, no,” Marcus tries to deny breezily as he takes a small, hesitant step back from you, pretending to steady himself.

Making a small movement towards him, your hands at the same level as the point of the bunched fabric - you ask, “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Marcus is now eyeing you suspiciously - desperate to kiss you again but also a little worried as to what havoc your fingers might reek.

“Then, why are you moving away from me?”

“No reason…” his usually deep voice now a little tighter and higher, “Nush… What are you about to ARGH!”

His knees crumble beneath him as you attack his sensitive sides, “Gah! Quit it, woman,” he weakly commands between wheezes and hoots of laughter.

Taking full advantage of Marcus’ prone and vulnerable position, you take the opportunity to straddle him - effectively pinning him to the floor, “This is how you pin someone.”

“I let you pin me,” Marcus corrects you with a wink.

“Oh really?” you contest, entirely unconvinced by his bravado.

“Yeah,” he says with a small wiggle, bringing his hands to the back of your head, “Cos y’see, I can flip our positions quite easily.”

Suddenly, you find yourself flat on your back in Marcus’ kitchen with zero air in your lungs to form any sensible thought other than to kiss him hard. His large hands cradle your head as he props himself gently above you on his elbows. You feel his entire body covering yours. Deliciously pressing against every single inch of you and oh how it takes every bit of the minutismal amount of self control you have to not beg him to fuck you senseless into that floor.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Shit, is that your door?”

“Fuck,” Marcus pushes himself up to kneeling between your legs, “Can we pretend we’re not in?”

The harsh realisation of an evening with your colleagues, albeit lovely people, sinks in to you both.

“Nope,” you groan, popping the p with a deflated gusto, “Hang on, don’t buzz them up until I’ve tucked my boobs back into my bra.”

“I dunno, makes for easier access,” Marcus lopsidedly grins with a wink as he heads for the door.

“You certainly didn’t seem to make hard work of it earlier,” you mumble at him, before you affix a smile to your face, “Hey! How are you all doing?”

A sea of never ending hugs envelopes and separates you from Marcus as everyone piles into his apartment. The stupid grin still firmly in place on your face since you’d first kissed, you find that every time you look over at him, he’s gazing right back, mirroring that lovestruck smile.

“Oh my god, it all smells so amazing,” Dian waxes lyrical, squeezing you tightly as she inhales a lungful of exotically scented air, “What’ve we got?”

You take her by the hand into the kitchen to show all the different things you had bubbling away. Andy ducks into the kitchen behind you, laden with bags filled with pilau rice, naan and chapatis, and a beautiful small bunch of spring flowers in his other hand - tiny tête-à-tête daffodils with multiple heads along each stalk, brilliant yellow and red tulips standing like soldiers and the otherworldly looking stems of hyacinth, wickedly scenting the air under your nose as he thrusts them under there.

“Hey pretty girl, here’s all the bits you asked for. You deserve a much bigger bunch for what I’ve roped you into but I know you love the early blooms,” he offers by way of apology, sticking a kiss to the side of your forehead, “Smells fucking good though as ever. Hope you don’t mind but I’ve brought a box to take some home for Greg - he was a jealous arse this evening so I suppose I should share.”

“You know the way I cook, enough for several small armies,” you wonkily grin at him, truly thankful for the part he’d had to play, “‘Fraid there’s no easy way to say this and you will have to be the one to break it to Greg, but there’s no butter chicken tonight.”

“You’d better have a damn good excuse for this slatternly behaviour, madam,” Andy gives you a serious side eye for this infraction.

“Well…”

“Initially Nush couldn’t find the cardamoms but then we ran out of time. Plenty of food here, though,” Marcus answers for you, his hand gently holding your hip as he reaches around you to grab a couple of beers from the fridge.

You see Andy catch Marcus’ hand lightly stroking your side as he walks back to Kiritopa, but are entirely grateful when his expression and mouth say nothing. The light chatter in the kitchen, whilst Dian dips a teaspoon into all the pots, is interrupted by a small knock at the door. Sticking your head around the kitchen door, you spot Marcus opening the door to a nervous-looking Harper. Andy sidles past you, to pull her into the main room, rather than her previous position of standing on the doorstep, utterly awkward and obviously feeling quite out of place.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind me coming. I know I wasn’t there Friday but I don’t really do large crowds and drinking.”

You walk over to her amidst the chorus of “not to worry”s and “lovely to see you”s, “Fancy something to drink now? Got plenty of soft options and I think I’ll stick alongside you as I’ve got to make sure I don’t burn stuff.”

“Including yourself, this time,” Harper retorts quickly with a small smile and a raise of her eyebrows.

“Hah, chance’d be a fine thing,” Andy laughs, slapping your shoulder before turning back to clink bottles and talk with Kiri and Marcus.

✪✪✪✪✪

Through the full length doors of Marcus’ balcony, evening spring sunshine streams through, bathing the group of your co-workers in a gentle, diffused light that flows around the room coating you in a golden glow. You all eat your fill and then some, with full tummies and tired eyes - the kitchen still full of half eaten dishes.

“Can we make this a weekly thing?” Kiritopa asks through a mouthful of food, hopefully.

“Not unless we take it in turns or get a take away - I don’t have the physical or emotional energy to make this level of curry every weekend,” you pointedly remark, looking up from your coke to meet Marcus’ eyes.

You’ve spent the evening barely speaking to each other for fear of alerting the others but surreptitiously brushing past so that you can sneak touches. Tender hidden strokes that feel like the kindest stitches on hidden, gaping wounds.

Marcus stands up to help usher the evening to an end and get you to himself again, “I have some boxes for y’all to take food home as otherwise, I’ll be eating this for weeks - delicious as it is.”

Everyone thankfully takes their boss’ hint and head into the kitchen to grab platefuls to reheat after long days. Slowly saying their goodbyes, your friends drift off in the direction of their homes as you throw yourself in an exhausted heap of bones on his sofa. Two strong hands grip you under your arms, to drape your torso across his lap.

“Hey tired girl,” you slightly open your eyes to spy a smiling Marcus gazing down at you. His fingers draw lazy patterns over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“I’d like to take you on a proper date this week. Wanna do this properly. Make a bit of a fuss.”

“Yeah? Not just pin me down and ravish me on the kitchen floor?” you grin widely at him.

“Well, I’d hardly call that a ravishing…” your eyes widen, eyebrows raising at Marcus’ comment, excitement pooling in your tummy, “Yeah, I saw there’s an Argentinian restaurant in Blackheath so how about steak, Malbec and homemade ice cream before I bring you back to either yours, or mine, for another, even better ravishing?”

“That sounds amazing, although with the amount of food in my belly, I may never have to eat again,” you give your stomach a rub, “But the ravishing…”

Hauling you up to sitting across his lap, you protest loudly, “I am going to crush your legs.”

“Stop making ridiculous comments and c’mere,” Marcus demands as he gently turns your head towards him, stealing a delicate kiss from you.

“I...should… - argh! Stop kissing me for a second,” you beg halfheartedly, “I should go home.”

“Stay.”

“Please stay,” Marcus desperately entreats you, “I’m not expecting anything but I’d love it if you stayed. I know you’ve got nothing here but give me two minutes and I can have a spare toothbrush for you. I’ll drop you home early tomorrow morning so you can grab some clothes and then we can go into work together?”

It feels as though the wind is knocked out of your lungs with the depth of Marcus’ need to be around you.

How does he do it?

“There’s no games with you, are there?” you twist in Marcus’ lap so that you now straddle his thighs, placing your hands on either side of his ridiculously handsome face.

“No,” he shakes head slowly, all the while holding eye contact with you, “I’m too old and I know what I want.”

“What’s that?”

Stroking his hands up and down your sides as he nuzzles your neck, he clearly and confidently declares,

“You.”

Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito-deactivated20210 @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

[soobuneary]

Giddy up, Girl! - Choi Soobin x Reader

Choi Soobin x Reader

Summary: A (very self-indulgent) fic about Soobin visiting a southern partner’s hometown. After a year of long distance dating online, you meet! HIGHKEY inspired by the Luke Bryan ‘Shake It’ tiktok trend haha.

Warnings: drinking, a tiny bit sexual if you squint, and like one curse word

Words: 2.6k

***the songs mentioned, if you want hehe: 1, 2, 3, 4

As he watched you carefully apply your eyeliner, Soobin still felt as if this whole situation was unbelievable. Even through the teary greeting at the airport, and even as he sat here on your bed watching you, the high feeling kept his head lost in what he could only describe as a dream.

You had gone to Korea as a trip with your university, where you were a culinary student, and on one of your nights adventuring you had met Soobin at a food stall. He was impressed by your knowledge of Korean food, and you were smitten with his dimples. After exchanging numbers, you quickly became friends even after you had gone home to the US. He asked you to be his girlfriend over facetime, which was how many of your previous dates had taken place.

But now, you sat in front of him at your vanity, in the flesh. And you were about to take him out in real life. “Soobin, aren’t you going to get ready?”

Your voice snapped him out of his daze. He took in your appearance and suddenly felt shy. A pale pink tank top and high-wasted jean shorts, and suddenly he wasn’t sure this was the type of date he was thinking of. He assumed he had been quiet for too long, as you asked him the same question but in Korean. “Not sure.”

You smiled at him and walked over to your closet. Seeing his clothes on one side made you smile, because although it was odd, it made everything feel much more tangible. He was here.

He looked at the plain white button up you held out towards him. “The jeans you’re wearing should be fine.”

“Where are we going?”

“No where fancy.” You smiled, putting on your rhinestone covered boots. “I want you to meet my friends, this bar is one of our favorites.” You saw the anxiety settle in on his face, so you continued, “Soob, I don’t think anyone at this bar would know who you are. Hell, I didn’t when we met.”

That did little to ease his stress, but he smirked upon further inspection of your cowgirl boots. It reminded him of the Blue Hour music video shoot. He chuckled, “Those are yours?”

“Yeah?” You approached the closet again as he finished doing the last button on his shirt. “You don’t take me for the type?”

He watched as you pulled down two hats, one white and one brown. “I’ve never seen it before.”

Your laugh made him blush. “Well, it’s a special occasion. I can’t show you my hometown without pulling out all the stops.” You paused in consideration, “Actually, I don’t think I’ve worn them since my high school homecoming!”

He put on the well-worn, white cowboy hat. “Homecoming?”

You explained it on the way to the bar, and Soobin would not stop laughing about the ridiculousness of it all. Mums? He lost his mind.

~~~

“You look mighty fine in your hat, Soobin.”

One of your friends broke the silence that followed your leave to the bar. Soobin couldn’t help feel out of place in the dimly lit booth, not because he didn’t trust his English abilities but he was trying his best to not be overwhelmed by everything. The horseshoes on the walls, the men shooting black spit from chewing tobacco into empty bottles, the cigarette smoke filling the air. Above all else, the loud country music blaring from every direction and the yelling coming from around the big, robotic bull. He looked up at the brunette who had spoken up and realized he had taken a pause too long. “Thank you, (Y/N) gave it to me.”

“We figured,” her boyfriend laughed and Soobin felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment. Marie and Jack were there names, and you had told him they were your best friends in high school. From what he had observed so far, they were far different than your university friends he had met briefly on facetime, but they seemed friendly still. They just had a different air about them.

“Sorry, I’m not used to going out like this.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Marie’s eyes lit up as she patted Jack on his bicep, “Back in Korea, Soobin is famous!”

He blushed deeper and hoped that the dim lights did him a favor. He laughed inwardly, and he hoped it didn’t make him conceited to know it was a lot more than ‘famous back in Korea’.

“Well, Soobin, here in Green Oak you could consider me famous. Marie, do you remember senior year when we brought our four wheelers? For our senior prank?”

“How could I forget, Jack?” Marie looked at Soobin with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “They drove them through the halls, they barely fit! Dragged in mud and horse shit. Our principal was mad as hell, but we cleaned up! We made the local news.”

His mind raced as he tried to keep up with words he wasn’t too familiar with, but laughed along with Jack. Suddenly he heard your voice, and thanked whatever higher power there was that you came to hopefully steer the conversation back to familiar territory.

You swayed your hips and sang along to the song playing out, being extra careful with your arms full of drinks. “Cold beer on a Friday night, a pair of jeans that fit just right!”

Marie finished the lyric as you served out the drinks. Jack had gotten a beer, so Soobin did as well. How different could beer be here in Texas? Well, quite a bit different he found out, trying not to choke on the Bud Light as it went down. You sent him a knowing look, but he hoped Jack hadn’t seen. “You gonna ride the bull tonight, (Y/N)?”

It was your turn to choke on your drink a little, and Soobin shot you a look of concern. “Marie-”

“You should show Soobin! Just how you did when we would sneak in the bar during high school. I’m sure he’d love to see you ride the bull! Right?”

All eyes on him, but he smirked much to your dismay. “I’d love to see it.”

You gulped down a bit more of your lemon drop moonshine. “Do I have to?”

Just then the tray of shots you ordered were delivered. “It’s fate, (Y/N).” Jack distributed the glasses and smiled, “To old friends and new.”

The liquor burned your throat, but you knew what you had to do. You slipped out of the booth, and the table followed with Marie cheering. As you stood in the the queue to ride the bull, you kept looking at Soobin. Instead of meeting his eyes, you saw him smile and talk with Jack and Marie. It made you incredibly giddy to watch him get along with your friends, but the feeling didn’t stay too long as it was your turn.

The music rang loud in your ears as your legs settled in the saddle. 'Cause just when I thought it couldn't get no hotter, I caught a glimpse of the farmer's daughter. The rocking started, and you braced yourself and rode like you never had before. “Giddy up, girl!” Marie’s shout made you giggle to yourself.

The small crowd cheered and whistled, but it was all white noise to Soobin. He focused on the concentration in your brow, and your pretty pink bottom lip caught in your teeth. It was so odd and weird but yet so cool and sexy-

Did he really just think that?

As the bull got faster you only rocked your body quicker to the beat, and the way your legs held the bull made him gulp.  As the days got shorter our talks got longer, the kisses got sweeter and the feelings got stronger. He could see the confidence building up in your smile as you took one hand to your hat and swung it in circles. The crowd cheered louder, and the bull got faster. So we'd hop in the truck and get all tangled up every chance we got.

After another minute, you lost your balance and fell making the audience holler. However, by the time you made your way back to Soobin and your friends your confidence had only doubled. You grabbed Marie’s hand walking quickly past. Jack smiled and motioned Soobin to follow along. 

You and Marie began to dance right as the song ended, and she sighed dramatically causing you and Jack to laugh.  And just when I think it can't get no hotter I come home to the farmer's daughter, yeah. However, no one would’ve guessed one of your favorite songs growing up would be the next to play, causing you to smile wider than Soobin was sure he’d ever seen before.

You grabbed his hands as the beginning instrumental played and he laughed nervously, to him it was obvious the moonshine began to kick in. “Why are you nervous? You dance for a living!”

“It’s obviously not the same!” He laughed, but you ignored his complaint.

Got a little boom in my big truck, gonna open up the doors and turn it up. Gonna stomp my boots in the Georgia mud. Gonna watch you make me fall in love.

Thankful he was a quick learner, Soobin saw how the guys on the dance floor simply clapped and swayed a little. ‘Boring’, he thought. He did not think it was boring for much longer as he finally understood what he thought you might find the appeal of the song.

Shake it for the young bucks sittin' in the honky-tonks, for the rednecks rockin' 'til the break of dawn. The DJ spinnin' that country song c'mon, c'mon, c'mon.

Your hips swayed to the beat and you grabbed his hips gently. Before making a comment about distasteful PDA, he noticed how most pairs on the dance floor looked quite similar. He kept his thought about how you hadn’t even kissed yet to himself.

Aw, country girl, shake it for me Girl, shake it for me Girl, shake it for me

You had turned into a different person, he thought, as you changed directions. Lightly wiggling your ass on his front, all he could do was blush and sway along. He leaned forward and whispered in your ear, “I like this side of you.”

You felt your skin tickled where his breath met your neck. “Hm?”

“You’re dancing like no one’s watching, I like seeing you like this.”

After a few more songs your group had a drink or two more before parting ways. In the Uber home you asked Soobin for his thoughts on your friends and the atmosphere of the bar. All he could think to say was ‘different’.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t too good for you, honey.”

He closed your apartment door behind him, smiling “I didn’t say that. It’s just very different.”

“Was it too much?” You plopped down on the couch in your living room. “We could’ve left, Soob.”

“I had fun.” He sat beside you and gave a sincere smile. “I can’t get over something though.”

You feared for the worst. Did he hate Marie? Was Jack too much? Was the robotic bull ride too weird? “What is it?”

“Country music”, he started, his face breaking into a goofy grin, “is weird. Their voices are so dramatic, and, and-”

“Tangy?”

“Huh?” The confusion on his face made you giggle slightly.

“Not all country music is that over the top! There are beautiful country songs!”

“I didn’t say there wasn’t!” He laughed and put up his hands defensively. Without a moment to overthink it you grabbed his hands and pushed him back. His back hit the cushions of your old couch and you looked down at him. As your face drew closer your breath hitched, was this is it? Lips crept towards each other before you felt his breath fan over you. “Show me.”

His voice broke your trance. “What?”

“Show me a beautiful country song, then.”

After a moment of consideration, you crawled off him and connected your phone to a speaker that rested on your coffee table. You held out your hand, and led him to the small space dividing your kitchen and living room. The speaker softly began to play as you rested a hand on each of his shoulders.

Baby, last night was hands down one of the best nights that I've had, no doubt. Between the bottle of wine and the look in your eyes and the Marvin Gaye. Then we danced in the dark under September stars in the pourin' rain.

His hands found your sides and you rested your cheek against his chest. His heartbeat welcomed your skin and it made you smile, who knew a man this perfect could have his heart race at something as simple as this?

“Who says this is simple?”

You pulled your head back but still kept close and swayed to the beat. “I didn’t realize I said that out loud.”

“Any time I get to spend with you is everything, (Y/N).”

Oh, if all I got is your hand in my hand baby, I could die a happy man. A happy man, baby.

“I never thought this would happen, Soobin.” You hadn’t noticed your own face moving in close as you spoke. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you again, and not through a phone screen.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

And I know that I can't ever tell you enough that all I need in this life is your crazy love.

“Why did you wait for me?” You felt emotion rush through your veins as you looked for answers in his dark eyes. “A year without me, and a year living your dreams and becoming an international celebrity. Why me?”

If I never get to see the Northern Lights or if I never get to see the Eiffel Tower at night. Oh, if all I got is your hand in my hand baby, I could die a happy man.

“Because you’re you, (Y/N).” He brought one hand up to caress your cheek. “You’re brave and funny and compassionate. You didn't even know who I was, but you approached me, just to be nice.” He laughed quietly, and wiped a runaway tear from your eyes. “I was so nervous when you did too. I thought my mask and hat weren’t enough to not be recognized, and I’d get in trouble. But it was just you, excited to be eating Korean food and enjoying Seoul. Your eyes still sparkle the same way they did then, even all the way over here where you’re from.”

Passion welled up in your voice, and although you tried to keep it down with a gulp, it escaped. “Soobin. I’d wait forever for you, you know?”

“I know.”

Baby, you're my great escape. We could stay at home, listen to the radio, dance around the fireplace.

His lips met yours for the very first time. Your world stopped and your breath got caught in your chest. Kissing back you made note of how he tasted like the cherry liquor from the shots and his lips were just as soft as they always looked. Love was laced into every moment of the embrace, and it tore you to pieces to break away.

I could die, I could die a happy man.

“I love you, (Y/N), you know?”

You beamed up at him, his eyes reflecting all the love and light of the moment. “I know. I love you, too.”

The two of you got ready for bed, and cuddled up to spend your first night together. The conversation was mostly questions about things that confused Soobin throughout the night out. Unable to keep it in, you laughed loudly and dramatically, leaving Soobin to reach for his phone.

“What’s giddy up, girl?”

[spookypotato]

Hey! It's the 20th of January! Perfect time for me to finally post my secret santa fic I might have forgotten about right? Absolutely. So here it goes :)

This was and is still for megss (@charginger)

I also wrote her a poem and I thought I would include it :)

Your Secret Santa, it is I,

so okay, I would really lie,

if I were to tell you I would have guessed,

that you would be a bit more impressed.

Anyway this is the big reveal,

the time for my identity to unseal,

Hey, I'm Veronika, I hope you like what I made,

may it help the christmas cheer to not fade!

I had two assistants, I shall not forget,

@ninak803 and @marauderss-hp only because of them it's finally set.

there might be mistakes, at least so I worry,

my english isnt perfect, I am sorry.

Merry Christmas! you wonderful snowflake,

now read to find out what Sirius might bake!

cw: food

Hope's favourite cookies

"Hurry, Remus.", Sirius was running around in the kitchen, trying to find ingredients for their christmas cookies.

"I am, I am, although I dont think this is exacly an important task, right now."

"Remus, mon loup", he stilled for a short moment and placed a kiss on Remus' nose, "This will be my first christmas with your family. It needs to be perfect. They need to like me.", he stated, like it was obvious and began looking over the recipe, mumbling to himself.

"I'm pretty sure, you're like their favourite non-related person in the world-", realizing Sirius wasn't even listening and carefully pouring the exact amount of flour in the bowl they needed, Remus trailed off.

Walking over to his - way to stressed for this occasion - boyfriend and wrapping his arms around Sirius' waist, he told him, looking over his shoulder at the dough he'd made so far, "Baby. Please relax, alright? They already love you and it will be perfect."

When Sirius turned around in his arms Remus could see the doubt and stress on his boyfriend's face as two lines formed on his forehead. Going up to his toes, he kissed them away, like he had wanted to do for years. "Besides", Remus grabbed a bit of the dough and put it into his mouth, "not serving my mom's favourite cookies is definitely not on the bad-boyfriend-list."

Sirius finally looked a bit more relaxed. Then he suddenly narrowed his eyes at Remus, "There isn't actually a list, right?"

"'course there is", Remus answered and watched the fear as it seeped into the face in front of him. "I'm kidding, baby.", he gasped out after he couldnt hold his laughter back any longer, "Don't worry, okay? They love you and nothing will change that. Now put this dough in the fridge, there are more important things to do!"

~

They parked in front of the Dumais' house. Remus looked at the time displayed in Sirius car. "We're late. May be because of your obsessive need to achieve perfection, but at least we're finally done with everything right?", Remus leaned over and gave his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek.

Sirius smiled sheepishly, "Yeah, sorry. I'm just nervous, you know?"

"I promise you, the evening with our familys will be perfect. Now stop worrying, we're late.", with that Remus got out of the car leaving his boyfriend to shake out of his daze and follow.

Their arms piled with presents, they made their way to the front door, Remus using his foot to ring the doorbell, as if it was an everyday task.

The door opened with a "Bonjour!". Sirius could'nt see the other man, but recognized Pascal's voice behind the big present he was holding.

"Hey Dumo. How are you?", he heard Remus say as they walked into the living room, toeing of their shoes to not get the clean floors dirty.

"Good. Finally relaxed now that the presents are all done.", he added the last part as he moved closer to the couple, almost whispering.

It was that moment they all heard loud footsteps on the ceiling. Children running around to the direction of the staircase.

"Shit. Um-", Sirius almost threw the present into Dumos' arms, the gears in his head visibly clicking into place to find a solution for their poor time management, "Okay, Remus! Can you get the rest? I'll distract the kids."

Remus looked amused as he saw Sirius determination to not ruin the children's christmas with the shocking discovery that santa was in fact just their parents.

So he obediently got all the presents from the trunk of Sirius' car and brought them into the basement, so Pascal and Celeste could place them underneath the tree in the night.

Sirius having chased Marc up the stairs, could be heard as he probably tickled him mercilessly, if the shrieks and laughs from both boys were anything to go off of.

As his boyfriends was probably just waiting for some kind of sign from Remus, that he had stored the boxes away, he went up the stairs aswell, just catching Marc running off to his room, having escaped Sirius grasp. Sirius made a move to follow him, but stopped as he saw Remus.

"All set up?", he asked, putting his arms around Remus waist.

"Yes. Stored securely away from curious children's eyes. They probably know about Santa already, you know?", he leaned against his boyfriends chest.

Putting his chin on top of Remus head he replied, "Yeah, I know. I just don't want to risk it. I dont want to ruin their view of christmas."

"What about Santa?", came a small voice from their right. They hadn't noticed Katie's door opening. "Did you hear something from him?"

She looked a bit tired, but somehow also full of excitement for the evening and probably even more for tomorrow morning.

"Non, mon petit chat. But, usually that's a good sign.", he let go of Remus to lean down to her, "It just means that he's busy making and flying out presents. And that nothing went wrong, so let's hope we only hear from him tomorrow morning, eh?"

"Oh. Yeah, then I hope so too.", there was a short pause, but then the seven-year-old's energy came back. "Ooh, Sirius! Can you help me choose a dress for dinner?" She was jumping with excitement and how could anyone say no to that face.

He kissed Remus and smiled at him, before following Katie into her room.

"So, I have a green one, a pink one and a blue one. Which one should I wear?"

Sirius knowing she would look adorable in all of them actually couldn't decide. Her whole evening could depend on this choice. Okay, maybe he was being dramatic, but he wanted to choose a good one. Then he noticed her glancing over to the green one, again and again. So he told her that, he liked that one the best and was rewarded with a wide smile.

Kissing her head with a "See you downstairs in a bit.", he left her room to join the others in the kitchen.

Just as he wanted to enter, the door bell rang.

He went over, hearing Remus and Pascal trail behind him and opened the door.

"Merry Christmas Eve!", Hope said cheerfully and hugged Remus.

"Hi, mum. I missed you."

"You forgot about us, Re'?", he just saw Julian run up to them, from where he had still been at the car, jumping up to his brother.

Remus lifted him with ease, "Wait, who are you again?". At the shocked expression of his brother he cracked up, laughing and getting them both inside.

"Pascal.", he Lyall greeted, "Thank you so much for hosting us all this Christmas."

"We're happy to have you! You're Sirius' family, so you're mine! Now, come inside. It's way too cold out here and dinner is almost done."

They all went into the kitchen. The food smelled amazing, so it was pretty hard not to be drawn to Celeste's current working space. Even though she was clearly a bit stressed, she chipped into the conversation every once in a while.

Sirius looked around from where he was leaning against the counter, standing next to Remus, "So when will Reg be making an appearance? I didn't think he'd go out on Christmas Eve."

"Oh. He's not. He in the basement-"

Dumo was cut of by Sirius, who was now leaving the room with quick steps in the direction of the stairs, shouting, "In the- That little shit. It's Christmas, Reg!"

~

Finally everyone was sitting at the beautifully set table. There were candles and carefully set up evergreen twigs, next to the delicious Christmas feast (it could not be described as a dinner). From were the table was positioned, everyone also had a wonderful view of their Christmas tree. Decorated with red and gold ornaments and an angel on the very top.

As soon as they had all sat down to eat, the stress Sirius had piled onto himself was somehow gone. He held up easy conversations with everyone, even one on one with Lyall. He seemed like he'd known them for years. They talked about hockey and the ride here and Remus really enjoyed watching his boyfriend bond with his family.

Until his mum joined in again, having had a separate conversation with Pascal about their kids.

"You know, I have video of Remus and Julian on christmas, when we bought them each their first hockey equipment."

Remus knew exacly how that had gone so he was determined to not show any reaction and just move on to the next topic. Sirius however had exacly the opposite planned and he never despised his boyfriend more then in that moment.

"Hope. Please. With all that holy to me, I beg you to show me that video someday."

Okay, that could go alright. Someday. Maybe Sirius would have forgotten until someday.

~

Once they were all finished eating and the kids were already starting to go to bed, they thanked Dumo and Celeste again, not only for the beautiful atmosphere, but also for the amazing food that left them all more than full up to the point, they couldn't even eat Celeste's christmas cookies anymore. Of course they got a to-go package full of every flavour that she had made that year.

Afterwards they all left for Sirius' house.

"Please can I drive with you? Pleeeaaase?", Julian begged Remus, standing in front of Sirius' car.

"'course, Jules-", Remus barely finished before his brother said, "Thanks. Alright, shotgun!"

And that's how Remus got to watch his boyfriend and little brother from the backseat, while they were discussing what Jules might get for Christmas.

It was a rather short ride to their house, filled with a long string of "I won't tell you." 's and "Pleeeaaaase." 's, but when they arrived Julian jumped out of the car like it was on fire.

"Easy there. You won't get any gifts from us until mum and dad are here."

~

Now they were all settled onto Sirius' massive couch and Julian was jumping up and down, probably breaking the springs any moment.

"Alright, seeing as Jules is ready to burst from excitement we'll start with our gifts."

Sirius left to get the big red one they had hidden in their bedroom.

Meanwhile, Hope was leaning over and noting smugly, "our gift, huh? You two bought your gifts together?"

Remus looked at her a bit sheepishly. They had been dating for over a year now, it didn't feel wrong to give out gifts together.

His mum saw his worried face and simply said, "No, don't worry. It's sweet."

Just as Remus wanted to reply his boyfriend came back into the room with Julian's gift, placing it on the floor in front of him. It was nearly as tall as Julian himself.

He picked it up and shook it. He could hear something moving inside, but that didn't help him determine what it could be.

Remus tore his eyes away from his brother's excited face, to look at his equally excited boyfriend. He was on the tips of his toes until he broke, "Come on, Jules! I'm dying here. Just rip it open!"

Remus had to laugh at Sirius impatience and enthusiasm, but he also wanted to see his brother's reaction.

"No!", was the first thing they heard and it was Lyall's voice. Apparently he had already seen part of the gift.

Julian ripped the wrapping away completely and tore the box open, revealing a lions hockey stick and a jersey, both with his number and name printed on it.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love them!", running over to his brother and Sirius and hugged them both, almost making them fall over from his force. "My team is going fo freak out!"

"I'm glad you like them."

Sirius visibly relaxed, "Can't be a real Lion, if you don't have the proper gear."

"Well, now I can! Okay, okay. I have something for you, too."

Sirius and Remus sat down and waited for Julian to get Remus' gift from where they had left them in front of the door.

"Here. For when you miss us."

Remus carefully ripped the wrapping paper away to reveal a snow globe. He turned it around a saw landmarks from his home state. It was incredible.

Remus eyes became teary. "I love it. But hopefully you'll never be gone long enough for me to miss. Oh, come here."

Jules came over and hugged him, but then the younger jumped up and ran out the door again.

He came back with another gift. He walked over to Sirius. "For you.", Julian held out he gift.

"Jules! There was no need to-"

"Its nothing, really. It's just something small. You might not like it, but I made it and I wanted to give it to you.", Julian looked a bit embarrassed, now.

Sirius removed the wrapping from the rectangular object to reveal-

"It's a picture of my family.", Julian told him.

Sirius looked at the framed photo. It was after a game. The Lupins had come down to the lockerroom. It was Lyall with his arm around Hope. Julian in front of them, flashing his brightest smile. Remus standing next to them. And to his right Sirius. Holding Remus close, a hand on Julian's shoulder, smiling. Now it was Sirius' time for tears.

"Jules, Julian. This is the sweetest gift I've ever received, thank you." Sirius couldn't really put into words how much this meant to him. To not only be accepted, but welcomed into this new family.

"Oh, come on. I- I need a group hug, please."

They all piled onto Hope like they were on the ice. Sirius being the first, hugged her the tightest, not wanting to let go. He could feel all of Julian pressed to his side and Remus as he kissed his temple. He even felt Lyall's hand from the other side on his shoulder blade, pressing the group together.

Apparently, he really didn't need any cookie bribes, it seemed like he was fine just the way he was.

mon petit chat- my little cat

[b3k1720]

Tainted food : Jacob Frye

TW: mentions of death, poisoning, swearing and violence.

It was common practice in the Victorian era for grocers, butchers and bakers to substitute some ingredients in their food to save money or because certain things weren’t available.

But these things always lead to people getting sick...

Rebekah came home one afternoon with the groceries, everything from meat for dinner to milk for little Cecily.

“Emmett sweetheart go out to the garden and grab four carrots and six potato’s for me” she announced before putting down the bag and starting to put things in their proper place.

“Ok mum!”

Soon Amelia came in holding Cecily’s hand.

“Mum ceci says she’s hungry and I am to”

“I Hungry mama! The little two year old cried out.

Rebekah wiped her hands of on her apron as she hummed and shook her head,

“Alright you can both have a slice of this new bread” she told them before slicing off two pieces from the loaf, buttering it and giving it to Amelia,

The young girl placed her little sister in her high chair before sitting in the chair next and handing the other slice to the toddler.

“I got them mum!” Emmett shouted with excitement as he entered through the back door with the carrots and potato’s bundled in his arms, his hands and somehow his cheeks covered with dirt.

The boy dumped them in to the basin to be washed, Rebekah knowing he’d also be hungry prepared a slice for him as well.

But she stopped him as he reached for it,

“Ah ah! Go wash your hands and face before you touch that bread young man your father and I didn’t raise you in a barn” Rebekah sternly told him as she pointed to the door leading to the bathroom.

“Yes mum”

...................................

Before long all the children had eaten their snack

And as dinner was just about ready, potato, carrot and beef stew with a side of bread,

“I’m home!” A charming voice rang out from out the kitchen and down the hall leading to the mud room.

“Dada!” Little Cecily cried out with a shrill little voice as Jacob entered to find his family about to settle in for dinner, the table set and Rebekah about to dish out serves of the warm delicious stew.

“Hey little princess” he chuckled before placing a kiss on her strawberry blonde ringlets, causing the little girl to giggle.

Amelia and Emmett quickly jumped up from their seats to greet their father with a hug which was met with a warm tight hug from the assassin, he smelt of smoke and gunpowder.

And before sitting down he gave his wife an affectionate kiss and a charming smile,

“Stew tonight? You definitely know my favourite my darling” Jacob chuckled.

“It’s been your favourite since I first cooked dinner for you and Evie” Rebekah laughed as she sat down, her mind returning to years gone by when she was living in the train...in the reign of Starrick’s terror...

Amelia giggled at the romance of her mum and dad which caused Cecily to giggle without knowing the reason, poor Emmett rolled his eyes, it was all gross!

Finally all settled down the family began to eat, Making small talk about their days from the children about school and play with little cecily’s input of seeing a puppy which needed some translation from Rebekah.

“This isn’t the usual bread we buy” Jacob commented with a raised brow after taking a bite of his slathered with butter and a spoonful of stew on top. He couldn’t help but think it tasted powdery.

“No it’s not, the usual baker raised the price by five shillings and I heard from someone at the market a new baker set up shop and his bread is a bit cheaper” Rebekah sighed, the prices just kept rising!

“Oh well that’s alright I guess” Jacob shrugged but he still couldn’t help but feel cautious.

.........................

Through the next week Rebekah served bread and butter with every meal, making strawberry jam sandwiches for the children for their lunches, she even packed lamb sandwiches for Jacob which he did quite enjoy.

But as they went on with life...that’s when the troubles began.

Amelia, Emmette and cecily began to constantly complained of sore stomachs, little cecily cried every night from the pains.

Both Amelia and Emmette had to stay home from school after two days!

It was hurting both Rebekah and Jacob to watch their children cry, even now when Rebekah got the same cramps in her stomach causing her to curl over in pain, wincing and groaning as her stomach tightened during the household chores.

Even Jacob was now starting to get the pains!

He had to stop every so often when running over the roofs of London to console his stomach and take a break.

And soon enough the doctor was called in after Jacob came home in a fury but stopped by a massive cramp.

“My children are suffering, my wife is in agony and it’s now affecting my work!” he cursed at the physician who only nodded and checked everyone over.

After an hour he could make his diagnosis.

“I’m afraid I’ve had quite a few similar visits and complaints of stomach cramping, one little boy I visited was just buried this afternoon, poor thing was only four years old” he explained.

“Dear god” Rebekah gasped hugging her youngest child closer to her chest.

“What’s wrong with us?” Amelia asked as she hugged on to her father, trying not to cry out in pain.

“I’m afraid your all being poisoned...arsenic in this case”

The children looked confused as they hugged their mother and father, Rebekah was shocked and mortified!

Jacob saw red!

He had a sneaking suspicions of who was doing it as well!

Carefully he let go of his daughter and paid the doctor.

Then in such a chillingly calm tone asked for the address of the baker from his wife...

Then left the house immediately after throwing on his assassins coat.

.................

‘How dare someone hurt them, hurt my children, hurt my wife...” Jacob seethed inside his head as he stalked down the street.

His mind wouldn’t stop going back to the nights his poor children curled up in bed with them whimpering in pain...begging “daddy” and “mummy” for the pain to go away!

Once at the bakery Jacob didn’t wait for the baker to come greet him, he hurled himself over the counter and launched in to the kitchen.

The stocky man who reeked of yeast stood no chance against Jacob’s knuckle duster as they pounded in to his stomach.

“Where do you keep the arsenic you bastard” he growled in such a low tone he was only just heard by the mans cauliflower ears.

“W-What arsenic?”

Jacob snarled and punched him hard in the gut two more times, now he was coughing up blood.

“Don’t play dumb with me! The arsenic you’ve been using to poison your customers and MY FAMILY! WHERE IS IT!”

Now trembling and wheezing the baker pointed to a cabinet.

Once opened it revealed twelve small blue bottles filled with the deadly powder.

“I should slaughter you right here...and burn down your shop..” Jacob spat.

But before the man could utter another word the assassin knocked him out...then tied him up and dragged him out to an unoccupied carriage.

The carriage made its way to Scotland Yard and the baker made his way half unconscious in to Fredrick Abberline’s office!

“Abberline, when you go to the address you’ll see evidence of arsenic poisoning, if he doesn’t do life I’ll be back to slaughter the bastard” Jacob announced as he slammed the paper with the address on the desk along with the man.

“A-Alright then” in all his years of knowing Jacob he’d never seen him so...so angry..

.........

Soon enough time passed and the small family healed from the traumatic experience.

Rebekah never brought bread anymore and never again did so for as long as she lived.

Every week she baked her own with the children....

And if there any more reports of tainted food...Jacob was on to it...

@thatcrazycrowgirl @assassins-and-hidden-blades @nemo-my-name-forevermore

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || Cooking For them [Request]

A/n: I’m having really bad writers block right now im so sorry 

Chan:

Who would have thought you would be celebrating your 2-year-anniversary with Chan, not you. You were still sure you were in some kind of coma where all of this was a sick and twisted dream ready to rip the rug out from underneath you at any moment bringing you back to reality.

"What are you thinking about?" Chan's voice woke you from your daydream and you went back to cooking the anniversary meal you'd been dreading making all week. Normally Chan was the one to cook in the relationship but you wanted to give him a break today since it was a special event.

"How I could give you food poisoning." You groaned hoping you were cooking it right, there were so many things that could go wrong. He walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder and watching over everything you were doing.

"Let me cook for you if you're so worried." You tried to push him away,

"No, this is an anniversary present." You mumbled trying not to sound defeated, you really wanted this to be special for him but cooking wasn't your strong point.

"I wanted it to be special." You pouted making him laugh with you, he kissed your cheek.

"As long as you're here it is special." He mumbled into your hair trying to make you feel better but it wasn't working, you knew how hard Chan worked at the studio and you wanted to make it a little less stressful back at your apartment.

"I'm cooking if you want to help you can make sure I'm not overcooking or undercooking anything." You told him looking over at the pots and then smiling back at him.

"Or the only anniversary present you will be getting is food poisoning." You joked trying to make the situation a little lighter and he laughed along with you, checking on the food you were preparing and telling you everything looked perfect so far.

Lee Know:

Lee Know was going home for a small break and he'd tried to convince you to go with him but you were busy with work...Or at least, that's what you told him you were doing. Instead, you were travelling to visit his mum and to get there before he did. You'd met his mother before and you were quite close to her, she even asked you to call her mum instead of by her name which you did.

"He's coming up the driveway now." You smiled at his mum and continued standing in the kitchen to finish cooking with her.

"Umma!" He called out as he walked into the house with a giant suitcase trailing behind him, you stayed in the kitchen while his mum went to greet him.

"I have a surprise." You heard her sing to him and then she came back into the kitchen covering his eyes, you tried to hide your excitement as she laughed at you. She began counting down and then moved her hands from his eyes, as soon as his eyes adjusted to the brighter light they landed on you and he couldn't stop smiling.

"I thought you had work?!" He yelled rushing over to you and tangling you into a tight hug squeezing as tight as he could. The last time you'd gone to see him was when he was leaving for work and he'd missed you.

"Hi." You giggled at him going back to make sure the food wasn't burning, his mum told you to go and catch up in the living room so you left to go and talk about your plans for the weekend.

"I'm seeing Han tomorrow, then I'm hanging with some friends and seeing Grandma." He then began to plan the weekend with you, inviting you out with all his friends and family to make you feel apart of it, he loved spending time with you and every time you got to hang around he cherished it dearly.

Changbin:

You knew how much of tough a time that Changbin was having, he'd been texting you all week about how much stress he was under and you wanted to do anything you could to make him less stressed. You'd convinced Chan to give you a spare key to the dorms and to take the rest of the boys out so you would have the place to yourself. You were going to make him the best meal you could manage, so you were dancing around the dorms singing along to the new SKZ2020 album when he walked through the door, he saw you dancing in one of his hoodies and smiled to himself. He felt instantly relaxed as soon as he saw you there and dropped his bags onto the floor,

"Hi." He breathed coming up behind you and holding you against his chest,

"Hi, how was the studio today?" He stayed silent which meant not good. You sighed and turned around in his arms to face him and smile softly,

"Well, I ran you a bath and laid out fresh clothes so go and bathe and by the time you're out the food should be ready and hopefully it won't kill you." You whispered leaning up to kiss him on the nose. You'd only been dating for three months but you would do everything in your power to make him happy but you had no idea that just you being there was enough to make him happier than he'd been since they debuted.

"Go, before the water gets cold." You giggled at him but he stayed there staring down into your eyes with a smile on his face, he just cupped your face in his hands and brought you closer to him.

"You have no idea how much you make me happy just by being here." He whispered leaning down to kiss you, you smiled against his lips and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Go and bathe, you stink from dance practise." You mumbled against his lips and he chucked pulling away from you and going over to the main dorms bathroom to find the bath you'd ran him while you went back to the oven to make sure nothing was burning or that you hadn't let the kitchen on fire, it was one of the many rules that Felix and Chan had left you to keep things in order.

Hyunjin:

All you'd heard for the last three days was how terrible the food was at the dorms, your boyfriend Hyunjin had done nothing but text you about how now Chan was away Felix was in charge of feeding him and Han who were the only ones left in the dorms while everyone went on vacation to go and see family.

"If I come and cook will you stop complaining at me?" You mumbled over the phone that night, you could even over the phone he had a giant smile across his face.

"We wouldn't hate that idea." You hummed and hung up the phone, stopping by the store on your way to to the dorms to pick up supplies.

"I thought I was cooking tonight," Felix grumbled once he walked into the dorm kitchen to see you cooking for them all,

"Hyunjin and Han kept complaining that you were trying to kill them." You told him not holding back despite Han and Hyunjin screaming at you to shut up,

"You don't like my cooking?" He turned to the boys and you smirked,

"Hyunjin's text this morning was 'I'm going to die if I have to eat one more meal from Felix'." Felix scoffed at them and turned his attention to you,

"Help me out, can you wash up some dishes? I asked them but they said they were busy." Hyunjin slid down the sofa and his attention was back on the movie they'd been watching, Felix began washing up the dishes while watching what you were doing.

"You should teach me, that way I won't kill your boyfriend off." He joked looking as you turned over the meat in the pan, then went back to cooking the vegetables, Hyunjin got up from the sofa and came to your side. Asking if you needed any help,

"Me and Felix have it covered, go and watch your movie." You kissed his lips and he stayed in place wanting to help out as much as he could since he'd forced you to come around in the first place.

Han:

You were in a panic trying to make sure your apartment was perfect, it was the first time your boyfriend of two months would be coming over to your place. You normally spent all your times at the dorms with him and his friends but this time Han had decided you needed some time alone together instead, you'd spent the entire day cleaning from top to bottom. Then you'd spent the last four hours cooking to make sure his favourite meal was made perfectly for him you didn't want a single thing to go wrong because you wanted to make everything flawless for him.

"Shit." You grumbled hearing the front doorbell being rang, you looked at the table and smiled it was laid out ready for you to eat and the food was being kept warm in the oven. You looked down at your jeans and top in the mirror and then rushed to open the front door.

"Han-Ah!" You giggled throwing your arms around him and bringing him into the apartment,

"You're cooking?" He asked looking over at the kitchen, that's when you noticed the take out bag in his hands.

"Did I not mention that?" You groaned, out of all the things you could have done to go wrong it was not telling him that you were cooking for you both that night.

"Shit." You groaned shutting the front door and walking him through to the kitchen,

"You made my favourite?!" You nodded and he put the take out onto the side,

"We'll have it tomorrow or later, I want to eat what my beautiful girlfriend cooked for me," He brought you into his arms and smiled at you, you stared up into his eyes and noticed he was wearing blue contacts,

"Contacts?" He nodded and then went to take them out in your bathroom while still shouting to talk to you through the house,

"We were shooting something secret today." You were smiling widely as he came back into the room and he knew instantly what you were thinking,

"No, I can't. I already told you about the comeback date I can't keep spilling secrets to you." You walked up to him and stuck out your bottom lip giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

"Please Han-ah, it'll be our little secret." You pouted and he groaned closing his eyes, he would give you anything if you looked at him like that and you knew it.

Felix:

"It's an emergency!" He yelled over the phone as you rushed over to the dorms,

"What?! Did you hurt yourself?! Is someone else hurt?!" You panicked hurrying up the staircase to their door, you opened it right away to see Felix standing there with Seungmin, their heads hung low.

"What?!" You yelled wanting to know what was so important that he woke you up at 3 am.

"We burnt the food..." Felix whispered you stared at him and then to Seungmin who was still hanging his head.

"You woke me up at 3 in the morning because you burnt food?!" You asked rubbing your eyes and looking down at your outfit. You were dressed in fluffy pants and a top you'd stolen from Felix the last time you were at the dorms.

"Yes." He laughed pulling you into the kitchen to get you to look at what they'd done,

"How did you mess up pancakes?! It's the easiest thing to cook." You began cleaning off what they'd been trying to cook, and then asked Felix to fetch the ingredients for you.

"Don't cook anything, I still don't understand how you messed this up?" You asked as you put the pan on to heat, you threw your hair up into a makeshift ponytail and got ready to show him how to make the perfect fluffy pancakes.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love you?" He asked trying to soften you up,

"I love you too but I'm still stealing a hoodie in revenge for this." You patted his cheeks and began plating up the pancakes for him and a hungry-looking Seungmin.

"and I'm staying the night but you can bunk with Seungmin." You yawned walking away from the kitchen and  in the direction of Felix's room where you curled up under the sheets ready to just pass out and sleep for a week.

Seungmin:

Seungmin had invited you around to the dorms since all the boys were out for vacation and he wanted to cook with you but you had other plans, he was always cooking for you whenever you went around to the dorms so you wanted to cook for him this time. You brought along everything you needed to make him his favourite meal, that's why you were currently dancing around the kitchen in one of his shirts and singing along to their album. Seungmin watched from the door as you hadn't noticed he was out of the shower yet, you didn't notice him standing there until you heard him chuckling at your attempt to dance along to Miroh.

"Seungmin." You whined hiding behind the wall and peaking out to see him staring at you with a giant smile on his face,

"You looked cute." You poked your tongue out at him and he proceeded to show you videos and photos of you dancing and singing.

"If you show those to anyone else I will never talk to you again." You mumbled staring at the photos and he chuckled,

"I guess it's going to be a quiet night, I already sent it to the group chat." You groaned loudly going to take the meat off the heat before it burnt the dorms down.

"You're evil! Everyone thinks you're this little angel but you're pure evil." You jokingly ranted plating up the food and leaning back into his arms,

"Shut up, you looked cute." He whispered kissing you on the cheek trying to warm you up but you weren't going to give in that easily,

"I get to pick the movie since you've been so mean to me." You giggled at him and he nodded agreeing to it as long as it meant you would talk to him properly again.

Jeongin:

This was a disaster, you were supposed to be making a lovely meal for Jeongin for him to eat when he got home from the studio but you'd messed up everything, you had no idea how it even happened one minute everything was fine and the next the oven was on fire and I.N was reaching for the fire extinguisher.

"It's fine," He assured you as he rubbed your shoulders but you shook your head at him trying not to cry over something that seemed so small but it was a huge deal to you,

"No, it's not. How did I even mess pasta up!? You just boil it." You groaned looking at the oven which was now covered in water and foam from the fire extinguisher, the pasta was well and truly ruined now and there was no coming back for it.

"I mean you did burn the bottom of the pan and then spill oil into the open flame." You groaned at the thought of what you'd done laying your head back against his chest making him chuckle at you, but you didn't find it funny like he did. You found it humiliating that you'd almost burnt the entire apartment down just by making pasta something that everyone, even Felix could do without burning something down.

"I'll order us something." He said as he looked at the oven again, there was no coming back from this, you were never going to live this moment down for as long as you were going to live but I.N was going to keep it a secret, he wouldn't expose you like that just tease you about it privately out of love.

Tagline for Stray Kids Posts: (I don’t know if the people that are on my usual tagpost want to be posted in this too, if you do feel free to let me know) 

@yoongisdumplingcheeks @jooniesdarlingdimples 

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Riddler part 2

Master List

Warnings:Sorry if the Spanish is wrong, I used goggle for all of it. Talks of domestic violence and family drama.

WC: 1360

Enjoy x

You were used to working over a weekend, it was nothing new. Rafael managed to get a warrant early Saturday morning. He brought it to you and Amanda and you both found that your prep worked the nights at all the bar’s all the victims were at the night they were all attacked. The pills Sonny found in his pocket matched all the blood tests of all the victims and the pills from the drink. You and Amanda made the arrest and he was being proceeded and arraigned that afternoon.

“I want you both in my office tomorrow” you were all standing outside court after the bartender had been remanded pending trial starting Monday.

“Really Barba, on a Sunday?” you complained.

“Yes, maybe if you staid home last night you would have a day off tomorrow” he gave you a smug look.

“A rapist would still be on the streets Barba if it wasn’t for us” you snapped back.

“My office tomorrow morning, 10 am”

You really didn’t mind, you had nothing better to do. You, Sonny and Amanda usually ended up at some sports bar drinking cheap beer and too many slices of pizza if you guys weren’t working or with your cousins doing the same thing.

You woke up early and got ready for the day. You knew it was going to be a long one, so you decided to dress comfortable. You put a pair of black ¾ tights and a mustard slightly over size top with a pair of white converse runners, your hair in a high pony tail.

One of the best coffee shops in Manhattan was on the way, so you stopped and picked up yours and Amanda’s favourite and something for Rafael. Just as you ordered your phone rang, it was Amanda,

“Hey I’ am just getting coffee, are you there yet?”

“I’ am not coming”

“What, why?”

“My sister turned up last night, I told Barba”

“Fine” you huffed.

“Enjoy my coffee, I’ll see you tomorrow” and she hung up.

You made the short walk to Rafael’s office and walked in and tapped on the door, Rafael was behind his desk in a grey button down and black dress pants.

“You’re late”

“By 10 minutes, I was waiting for the coffee. Didn’t know I had to dress up for you Barba, must have missed that memo.” You laughed.

He looked up at you with a small tight smile, “Is there ever a time you’re not a smart ass or have a comeback?”

“I could ask you the same thing” you said back, he looked at you far from impressed

“Sorry Barba” you sat down at the chair in front of his desk, “I grew up with 12 boys, and I had to hold my own growing up. If I didn’t they would have walked all over me. It’s just part of my nature now I guess. They are all amazing now, but you know, the only girl in the middle of all these boys” you rolled your eyes

“Makes sense” he answered back “But anyway we aren’t here to get to know each other, you need to be ready for tomorrow”

“Are you sure Barba? How could you not want to get to know little old me” you giggled back at his frowning face.

--

The day was long and intense, you guys hadn’t had a break all day. It was starting to get dark outside when you threw your paper work onto the table and it slid straight off scattering all over the floor. You stood up and bent down to pick it all up. Rafael looked up and seen your ass up in the air. He moved himself slightly so he could get a good view when he felt all blood rush between his legs.

“Let’s order something to eat” he pulled himself away from looking at you before he got too carried away with himself.

“I have a better idea” you stood up fixing your paper work on the desk “Grab your coat Counselor”

You guys started to walk down the white steps onto the street, “Where are we going?”

“Trust me” you smiled back at him. You walked two blocks, him following. You guys made some small talk along the way.

Next thing you turned down a side street which was covered in fairy lights and sugar skull painting all over the walls. Spanish music was playing loud and you guys walked through the door to find a table.

“What is this place?” he asked you looking around in awe.

“Tres Calaveras (3 Skulls). Amanda and I found it one night. They have the best margaritas you will ever taste”

“Hablas Espanol?” (You Speak Spanish?)

“Si (Yes). My uncle married a Mexican lady, mi Tia (My Aunty), she used to look after us when we were little while the rest of the parents worked. She taught us” you smiled at him.

“Tengo Hambre” (I’ am Hungry)

“Yo tambien (Me Too), but I’ am pretty sure you can order for yourself Counselor, I know your Cuban”

“How did you know that?”

“Liv told me. I asked her when you pronounced a name one day in court. A Latin name”

You guys put in your order in Spanish and waited for the food and drinks to come.

“So 12 boys. Must have been full on”

“Yeah it was, salvaje (wild). I was the only child to my parents. My Dad has two brothers and a sister, and they all had 4 boys each. We were all born just years apart, I’ am number 6, so smack bang in the middle.”

“Wow”

“How about you?” you smiled at him.

“I ‘am an only child. I was brought up by my Mum and Abuela. My Dad” he looked down and balled his hands in to fists. You saw his reaction and put your hand over his fist and squeezed it. He looked up into your eyes and seen kindness. You gifted him another small smile.

“My Aunty got out of her marriage. 20 years she put up with it, no one had a clue. I think the last straw was when the baby of all of us didn’t get accepted to college after we all had. Somehow it was her fault like everything was. I was out with him trying to help him forget it when we came back and I opened the door and seen my Aunty was badly hurt, I called the police on him. She hide it so well and always told the boys not to say anything. After that she finally left and they moved in with us. She is remarried now and couldn’t be happier. Of course she still has the scares physically and mentally. But we all have a story right” you smiled wide at him.

Dinner and the drinks came and you guys continued to talk.

“So is there a Mrs Barba?” Rafael almost chocked on his food. “Sorry too forward” you laughed.

“Ah no. No to not being forward and no to a Mrs Barba” you weren’t sure if it was the margarita talking or what but looked at him,

“How can someone as good looking as you be single” he laughed out loud. “Honestly you’re a catch” you took another sip of your drink preparing for his comeback.

“Are you single?” he asked back.

“Very much so”

“Well I could say the same to you. How can someone as beautiful as you be single?”

“Have you heard my mouth Rafael? Not many people like that about me, not someone I could take home to my Mum so I have been told. But I’ am not going to change myself just for some Chico (boy) who doesn’t know how to shut me up in a good way” he burst out laughing and you gave him a big grin.

“You’re not that bad”

“Yeah cause your worse” you pointed your empty fork at him.

“Do you think you will ever meet the one that can ‘shut you up the good way’?”

“I really hope so” you smiled back at him.

Tags: @detective-giggles​ @beccabarba​​ @thatesqcrush​ @the-baby-bookworm​ @dianilaws​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @lv7867​ @permanentlydizzy​ @averyhotchner​ @infiniteoddball​ @ritajammer21​

[that-fandom-pan]

Obey Me OC Profile!

Finally decided to post something myself here! Here’s the profile of my Obey Me OC, Rulgrodath.

Name: Rulgrodath

AKA: Ru

Birthday: Jan 13th

Zodiac: Capricorn

Favourite colour/colour scheme: Black, green, blue and silver

Scent: Ocean – seaweed, sea salt.

Height: 5’3’’

Voice: Strong but pretty quiet most of the time, very sarcastic when she’s angry, ranges between alto and soprano tones because of her music career, if she’s talking and she wants someone to hear, they know about it. Her voice is loudest when she’s angry, but she tends to go very quiet beforehand, and speaks through gritted teeth before she blows up.

Eyes: Yellow with a slit, catlike pupil

Hair: Dark brown, reaches about ¾ down her back, has a slightly lopsided fringe parting 

Body: 

Demon form: One pair of large black feathered wings with an iridescent sheen of green and blue, two sets of horns, one curling down either side of her head and two sets of horns, one curling down the sides of her head, one sticking up, green and blue scales on her temples, jaw and neck, long black green and blue feathered tail, black feathers around her shoulders and neck, usually wears a set of black gloves with two sets of finger armour on the index and middle finger of her right hand, black leggings and tank top (occasionally a black dress).

Human(ish) form: very skinny, no horns or wings, still has the scales, wears the same finger armour as in her demon form but without the gloves, hoodies or fluffy jumpers and leggings or sweatpants depending on how she feels, and a necklace Levi bought for her at a Comic Con as a sign of friendship.

Obsessions/habits: Can have severe body issues at times as it reminds her of how she died, this is what most of her breakdowns are based on, very protective of people she cares about, can overthink a lot, if nervous she’ll either bite her lip or mess with her hands (e.g. tapping, wringing her hands, cracking her knuckles), if she’s wearing a necklace or jewellery she’ll mess with that or her hair, will absorb herself in music or games when she’s upset, can verbally and emotionally blow up if she’s pushed too far, is also pretty self conscious about her height as compared to most demons she is very small due to her originally being a human.

Sweet spot/Sensitive place: Top of her head and behind her ears - she will start purring like a cat, very ticklish, will punch or try to freeze whoever is tickling her unless they are very close (e.g. Mammon, Astro*, Hiris**). 

Talents: Musician, very talented vocalist, good at comforting people when they're having bad days and cheering them up, not afraid to stand up for herself and other, can be quite terrifying at times, notices small details pretty often, can read body language and pick up on details of a person's attitude, personality and actions

Faults/sins: Envy and Pride, as those are what killed her, severe body issues, has a tendency of putting others above her own wellbeing, inner conflict of wanting to be perfect and knowing that is self destructive, a bit of a people pleaser,

Special skills/powers: Water magic, calming voice.

Music taste: Very wide, varies from jazz/swing to modern pop, film and game soundtracks to classical music, rock to musicals. The only kind of music she doesn't particularly like is reggae.

Personality: Kind, a little overprotective, a 'mum' friend to anyone she cares about, not afraid to speak her mind, will stand up for others, tough outside, soft inside.

Nicknames: RuRu (Mammon), Treasure (Mammon), Player 3 (Levi), Water Witch, Ice Queen/Ice Witch/Snow Witch, White Witch 

Backstory key points: Grew up in a family of musicians, was heavily praised throughout her life, grew envious of other musicians she thought were better than her, which led to her practicing almost constantly with no breaks. Died of starvation, dehydration and exhaustion. Was reborn in the Devildom as a demon of Envy and Pride. Met Levi at a Comic Con - they literally ran into each other, Levi in Lord of Shadows cosplay, Ru in Female Henry cosplay on her way to perform on stage, they bonded after the performance. Stayed in contact online for a while before meeting up in cosplay a few times, then to hang out as friends. Levi eventually brought her back to HOL to play games, where she was introduced to his brothers.

Animal theme: Feathered dragon/bald eagle

Relations to other characters:

Lucifer: Heavy dislike because of how harsh he can be to his brothers, especially Mammon. Will tolerate him though. Will quote musicals and sometimes Shakespeare to casually insult him. Will only lash out if he says something that might hurt someone, as a reminder that maybe he shouldn’t be so tough on those around him. 

Mammon: Love interest (ignore this if you don’t like OCs shipped with canon characters). Bonded after she first came home with Levi, she saw how, despite being talked down to by his brothers, he kept supporting them no matter what insults they threw at him. Very supportive of him and comforts him whenever she can.

Levi: Best friend (one of), was the first of the brothers she met, thinks he's funny and likes it when he starts rambling about things he likes, joins in at times, wants to help him with his insecurities.

Satan: Mutual respect for how much they both annoy Lucifer. Happy to talk about books and musicals with him. Tries to reassure him that he is not Lucifer 2.0

Asmo: Best friend (one of). Gossip, music and shopping buddies. Likes spending spa days together. Very supportive of her whenever she has a body image breakdown. Tries to calm her down when she's angry at Lucifer, but won't physically get in the way. 

Beel: Friends, he makes sure she has food if she's going through one of her body image episodes (was told by Mammon and Asmo), tries to comfort him when he's worried about what's happening between his brothers. Will frequently bake things for him and his brothers.

Belphie: Like Satan, mutual respect for how much they annoy Lucifer. Happy to lie about and just chill with him.

MC: Mother figure. Very protective of them and will defend them from anyone who wishes them harm, including the brothers. Makes sure they're alright as much as she can. Has a pact with them so they can call her whenever they need her.

Diavolo: Respects him. Understands he has a lot going on so will give help when asked, but most of the time will leave him be. Very grateful towards him due to him helping her get settled in the Devildom when she arrived after her death.

Barbatos: A little afraid of him because of his time related abilities. Tries to keep on his good side as much as she can.

Simeon: A bit of a fan, since he's the author of TSL, one of her favourite series. Holds him in very high regards, very happy to talk with him. Has offered to collaborate with him if he needs music for future films/episodes.

Luke: Considers herself a bit of a mother figure to him. Looks after him when he's upset, happy to bake with him as much as he wants.

Solomon: A little skeptical of him, considering the 72 pacts he has with demons and his magical ability. One of the few people she struggles to read.

Astro*: Best friend (one of). Will team up with her to stand up to Lucifer. Protective of one another, will gladly cause chaos together.

Hiris**: Best friend (one of). A little jealous at times because she still has some family, but overall similar relationship as between Ru and Astro. Will gladly try to satisfy her curiosity and listens to her stories a lot.

Role: Student, vocalist and musician at multiple clubs

Family: None, doesn’t know what happened to her human parents or siblings after she died, barely remembers them at all.

Extra facts:

Will use her water magic both to help herself and others to calm down after a bad day and also to trap anyone she wants to 'talk' to - will freeze their legs and shoes to the ground so they can't move (usually Lucifer or people who decide to verbally or physically attack one of her friends)

Will buy Mammon or Levi something from Akuzon without them knowing whenever they've had a bad day to cheer them up

Will cause water based inconveniences targeted at Lucifer if she wants a more subtle way of annoying him after he's given someone (usually Mammon) a too severe punishment - e.g. burst pipe in his bathroom, frozen drink when he's starting to overstep his boundaries (even when she's not in the room, has a codeword with Mammon for him to send to her if he ever feels like Lucifer is talking down to him too much), bucket of water is accidentally knocked over and it spills on him, water goes cold when he's having a shower and will not reheat (Lucifer knows its her but has no way to prove it as she's never actually seen doing it unless she wants to be seen, only MC, Hiris and Astro know that Ru has the HOL pipe system memorized so she knows which pipe goes to which room)

Most presents she gives that haven't been bought on Akuzon are either made with her water magic or tickets to concerts she has managed to get through a few connections (the latter is usually for Levi)

Can and will come up with the most creative insults she can

Is an ace at rhythm games

Has sung duets with Asmo/accompanied Asmo on several instruments 

Hates horror movies 

Always carries two flasks: one of water so she always has access to something to use for her powers, and one of pineapple juice to help soothe her throat. 

Has let Asmo style her several times for concerts - including the time with the suit and corset.

Loves swimming

Is bisexual

Ship facts (please disregard this if you don’t like OCs shipped with canon characters):

Often persuades Mammon to do shows/concerts with her as a way to make him feel better and to get back at his brothers

Mammon has persuaded her to do multiple modelling sessions with him.

Also uses the concerts she knows Mammon will be watching as a way to flirt with him - has worn a suit and corset with heeled boots to do this before.

Has kissed Mammon on stage multiple times.

Has Mammon saved as MonMon on her DDD 

*Astro belongs to one of my friends (will update if I find them on Tumblr)

**Hiris belongs to @storypanda88

[lollie2479]

Falling for the enemy - Part 2

Reggie Kray x reader

Summary :  You were with the Richardsons but you fell for Reggie Kray. You need to chose between your family or the handsome gangster that has your heart.

Warning : Swearing, mention of blood, violence and some smut. 

A/n : I’m so inspired for these imagines about Reggie Kray that I can’t stop writing. Part three coming soon. Hope you like it! Send requests if you would like another imagine about him. 

Part 1 Part 3

——————————————————————————————————

The gang had ruined your plan and everything you wanted to do so you had to find somewhere else to approach them, knowing that they wouldn’t go back to Esmeralda’s Barn. One day, you decided to go for a walk. Since people had already seen you, you could now step outside. You put on some pants that hugged your legs and your hips and a yellow blouse that you tucked into your pants. You let your hair fall on your shoulders but you pinned the front tight so strands of hair wouldn’t fall into your eyes. You started walking, not going anywhere, just wanting to get some fresh air and to clean your head. You turned around the corner and that’s where you saw him. He was standing on the crosswalk, his back against the wall, a cigarette in his mouth. The moment he saw you, his eyes lit up and he quickly made his way towards you.

You were about to greet him but before you could even speak his lips crashed onto yours, taking your breath away. His hands fell on your hips and you threw your arms around his neck. Your lips moved together perfectly, making it seem like you had been with each other for the last decade. When he saw that you were into it, he pulled you even closer to him and deepened the kiss. His tongue was playing with yours and you enjoyed it very much. Neither of you wanted to but you both had to pull away, out of breath. Your breathing was fast, not believing what had just happened. Reggie softly licked his lips, hands still on you. “You didn’t stay close.’’ You looked down and chuckled, thinking about the promise you made to him that night before pulling him in by his tie for a second round of the best kiss of your life. He didn’t seem to mind has he kissed you back immediately. Once again you had to pull away because you were out of breath. “Sorry I broke my promise’’ you said flickering your eyelashes. He laughed while pecking your lips. “Yeah, but the apology was better.’’ Your heart melted at his words. “Go on a date with me, tonight.’’ Your eyes were sparkling of joy not believing what was happening. “Yeah, I’d love to.’’ His face seemed a little surprised. “Yeah?’’ he repeated after you making sure that he heard correctly. You bit your lower lip and nodded your head. You gave him the address of the house you used as a hideout and told him to pick you up at 8. He kissed your cheek and told you that he would be there. Reggie made his way back into his club as you sprinted towards your house. 

You quickly ran to your bathroom so you could start getting ready for your date with Reggie Kray. You got into the hot shower and washed your hair and your body. When you got out, you wrapped a towel around your still wet figure and your hair. You ran to your room and started doing your makeup. You decided that you were going to wear a short black dress so your makeup look had to be light. You filed in your brows and then put on some eyeliner, mascara and a little bit of blush for your cheeks. You chose a soft pink lipstick that resembled the natural colour of your lips. You smiled, proud of what you had done. You dried your hair before putting your dress on. You still had half an hour to get ready so you decided to curl your hair. The curls were wrapped around your face so you chose to put a black headband on to pull them away from your eyes. You smiled at your reflection in the mirror and ran downstairs to grab some black high heels. When the bell rang, you were already at the door, ready to go.  

You opened it and you found yourself standing in front of the most handsome man you had ever laid eyes on. Reggie was wearing a black suit and a white shirt like usual but this time, his tie was red, the same colour as the flowers he held in his left hand. “You look beautiful love.’’ You smiled at him. “You look beautiful too.’’ He handed you the flowers before opening your car door. You kissed his lips softly and sat on the passenger side. He closed the door making sure that you were entirely inside so that he wouldn’t hurt you and took his place on the driver side. His hand stayed on your thigh from the moment you left your house until you arrived at the restaurant. You’ve heard about this place before, it was one of the most expensive and luxurious place in London but never in your wildest would you have thought finding yourself here with Reggie Kray. He took your hand in his and brought you inside. Your eyes were stunned by the chandeliers that were dangling from the ceiling. “Reggie, this place is wonderful.’’ You saw the corner of his lips turning upwards. “Glad you like it darling.’’ You were smiling widely. “I love it.’’ The waiter brought the two of you to your table. Reggie pulled your chair and you kissed his cheek as a thank you before sitting down. He pulled his chair and sat in front of you. “So, tell me about you.’’ You almost choked on your wine at his words. “What exactly do you want to know.’’ He grabbed your hand when he saw your discomfort. “Anything.’’ You took another sip before placing the glass in front of you. “There’s not much to know about. I never knew my mum and my dad died when I was younger so my uncle raised me. He became like a father to me.’’ His eyes showed compassion and you loved that he cared. “Sorry love.’’ His words were genuine. “It’s alright but enough about me, tell me about yourself.’’ You spent the rest of the evening talking about his twin brother, his mother, how he could have been a boxer, the clubs he owned and how he loved being in this business. The man standing in front of you wasn’t the same you had learned to hate and fear. He was sweet, gentle, loving and caring. This first date was the beginning of something much bigger than the both of you.

The next morning, you decided to stay in bed but Reggie had other plans as he started throwing stones at your window. You opened it. “Are throwing stones at my window Reggie Kray?’’ “Oh… they’re not stones, these are lemon sherbets.’’ He threw another one at you which caught it. You threw it in your mouth enjoying the sweetness of the candy. “What are you doing here.’’ “I missed you.’’ You smiled at him. “Then why don’t you come up here?’’ You didn’t have to tell him twice and soon enough he was standing in the doorway of your room. “Looking lovely Y/n.’’ You smiled making your way towards him. You were only wearing underwears and a nightgown and he really enjoyed the view he had of you. You placed your hands on his chest and his lips found yours easily. His hands started exploring the curves of your body and they found their way under your nightgown before removing it completely and letting it fall on the ground. The cold air hitted your bare skin sending a shiver down your spine. Reggie noticed it and he brought you closer to him so he could envelop your body with his own. You removed his tie and his jacket. Your fingers went for the buttons of his shirt. You opened it and slid it down his muscular arms. Your finger trailed a line starting from his collarbone and going down to his belt. You unbuckled it and threw it on the floor. He stared at you, lust in his eyes. He grabbed you in his arms and laid your body on the bed. He got out of his trousers and laid himself on top of you, placing his weight on his elbows so that he wouldn’t crush you. Soon enough, he removed the few pieces of clothing you had left and he did the same for himself. That morning,  he showed you what it meant to feel loved. “I should come more often.’’ He chuckled still smiling at the memory of what you had just done. You kissed his jaw before standing up and putting on his shirt. “I’ll make breakfast, you want some?’’ you asked him while buttoning it. His arms were crossed underneath his head and he couldn't take his eyes off of you. You laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.’’ You kissed his lips before heading downstairs. You made breakfast for the both of you and brought it to bed. Reggie smiled and lifted his body up when he saw your shadow coming closer. You gave him a plate before sitting on the other side of the bed. He placed the warm plate on his legs and glided his arm behind your back, eating with his other hand. “Could get use to this’’ you told him smiling. He smiled back at you and it was the first time you had ever seen him smiling and not only smirking or lifting the corner of his lips. You both ate your food in silent, enjoying each others company. When you both got done, he took your plate and his and brought them downstairs into the sink. He made his way back to your room and stopped in the door frame, leaning against it. “I’m gonna need that shirt back love.’’ You smirked at his request. “Come and take it yourself.’’ Reggie walked over to you before taking back the shirt that belonged to him. “Can’t you stay?’’ He didn’t have to say anything, his face spoke for him. He got dressed and kissed your lips before heading towards his club. You laid in your bed and went back to sleep, a giant smile on your face as you could still smell his scent on the sheets and pillows.

You woke up feeling feeling sick not because you had a cold but because you had fell hard for Reggie and now you didn’t know what to do. The Richardsons were your family and always had been but you felt that you could create one of your own with Reggie. You cried not knowing what to do. How have you gotten yourself into that mess? You wiped your tears and got yourself dressed when you heard a knock on the door. You stood up and went to open it. Charlie was there, standing on your front porch. “You all right?’ he asked concerned. “Yeah, why?’’ “Then I can do that.“ His fist met your stomach and your cheek making you back off into the kitchen. “What the fuck are you doing?’’ He tried punching you again but you were able to grab his fist and throw a punch in his nose. He stepped back and leaned against the counter, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wanted to see you this morning because the place feels empty without and can you tell my surprise when I saw Reginald fucking Kray walking out of your house.’’ He threw another punch at you and so did you. The both of you fought each other but he was the one that taught you how to defend yourself so every punch you threw he blocked them and you did the same with his. Your fight was going nowhere so he decided to change his tactic. Charlie grabbed the knife that was laying on your counter from the breakfast you had made earlier. He turned around throwing a punch in your left eye which knocked you on the floor. Before you could stand up, you felt a sharp pain in your stomach. You looked down and saw the knife’s handle sticking out of you. “You stabbed me?!’’ Charlie starred at you and at his hand covered from you blood. “Y/n, I’m… I’m so sorry.’’ He leaned down trying to see the damage he had caused. “I... I thought you were going to leave us and go with them.’’ He stood up panicking. The anger had gotten the best of him and he had just stabbed the only person he ever cared about. “I had to do something to keep you away from him.’’  “I wasn’t going to leave…until now.’’ “I’m sorry.’’ It was the last words he said before running away, leaving you bleeding on the floor. You closed your eyes, waiting for the white light to come get you. Was this really how everything was going to end…?

[parkerpeter24]

Roses Are Red ~ Peter Parker 💕

Part-1 of the Eight Days Of Valentine series

Warnings: fluff and nothing more.

You picked up the roses from the table and grabbed your backpack from the chair. There were six roses in total four of which were yellow. To say that you were excited for the day was an understatement. You were ready for this week from the start of the month.

You made your way to the school not before grabbing a sandwich offered by your mum and kissing her cheek. You left a white rose for her inside her dresser as her favorite colour was white.

Peter was, like always, in front of your locker with Ned, probably talking about Star Wars. Your heart beat increased as you saw his brown curls set properly with the help of a lot of gel. You hid the bunch of roses behind your back as soon as his eyes met yours and a large grin adorned his face.

You walked up to them, “Good morning, weirdos.” You greeted and waved your free hand at them. They replied simultaneously, as you opened your locker stuffing five of the roses inside them and slipping one into your bag secretly. You took out your English book and shut the door of your with a little extra force when Ned tried to peek inside, making both of them flinch. You started walking towards your first class, which was with MJ.

Some students were already sitting in the class, chatting and some front benchers were into the sonnet that was being taught in the class. You walked to your regular seat and sat beside MJ who was reading her book on human biology. You took out the rose from your bag carefully and placed it in front of her.

“A Black rose?” She questioned, raising her eyebrow in a typical MJ style.

“Do you not know what day it is?” You asked and sighed when she sat there without any expressions on her face. “Today’s rose day and I know that you love the colour.” You said, aiming your hand towards the rose placed on the desk.

“So, there’s one for me and...” She trailed off, closing the book and placing it aside.

“And?” You asked.

“I know you brought one for Peter.” She smirked. A blush crept up to your cheeks on the mention of his name. But you shushed her, “It’s red, isn’t it?”

---

You met Ned in Chemistry where you gave him a yellow rose, one you gave to Betty and one to Flash.

When you met Peter at lunch, you were expecting him to ask you for a rose, and he did, “Ned told me that you were handing out roses to your friends?” He asked as soon as he placed his tray on the table. Ned and MJ still hadn’t arrived at the table so it was just the two of you, “Am I not your friend or you ran out of roses?” He asked, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

“I’m sorry Pete, but I don’t have a yellow rose for you.” You pouted. You could see the disappointment in his face however hard he tried to hide it. “Yellow’s not your favorite colour anyway. What is it?”

He had a look of disbelief spread across his face and you couldn’t help but laugh almost knocking your tray down, “You don’t know my favorite colour?” He asked and you shook your head, still laughing over his expression. He smiled, starting at you while you were busy laughing, “It’s re-”

“Yo, Penis Parker! Your girlfriend gave me a rose today. Didn’t you get one?” He yelled from the other corner of the room making all the noises to die down. A hot feeling settled onto your cheeks and your eyes grew wide.

Lucky for you, MJ came in to save the day and told Flash to piss off. Thankfully the conversation was soon diverted from the topic to things like Spanish test and degrading the food of canteen as Ned joined the table.

When the last bell for the day rang across the school, you knew Peter would be off to his Stark internship soon and you wouldn’t have the time to give him the roses. You rushed out of your class and towards the subway.

You could’ve given him the rose at anytime of the day. There were several moments, like, in the morning when he stood by your locker, or in the second period when he sat with you, or in the lunch before Flash ruined it, or in the fifth period, when the class was nearly empty. But there was only one reason as for why you couldn’t do it, it needed courage, and that you didn’t have in front of Peter.

Talking of Peter, “Pete!” You yelled at the top of your lungs as soon as you saw him, coming to a halt beside him. You breathed heavily as you supported yourself on your knees. He stopped, staring down at your figure as you caught your breath. You grinned widely at him as you stood up straight. He loved the sight of you when you were all-

He just loved the sight of you anyway. You had that contagious smile that would make it’s way to his face. “Hey. What’re you doing here?” He breathed out finally.

“I’m here to give you... this.” You pulled out the two roses from your bag. “You can choose one from these, but I wanted to give you the red one.” Your voice became smaller with every word that escaped your mouth and it was a mere whisper at the end. Thanks to Peter’s heightened senses that he could hear what you said. There was a moment of silence and you thought that you messed it up.

“But you said that you didn’t have a rose for me?” He was confused. You could tell by the tone of his voice.

“I never said that.” You said with a small smirk playing on your lips.

“No, I’m sure you said that-” He stopped, remembering what you actually told him when he asked you for a rose.

“I’m sorry Pete, but I don’t have a yellow rose for you.”

“Oh...” He trailed off before laughing nervously, scratching the back of his neck, “Smart move.” He said making you smile.

You looked up to meet his eyes before slightly extending your hand holding the roses towards him, “I wanted to give you the red rose because I do know that your favorite colour is red and I really really like you.” You said finally letting the words out in the air. “You can take eith-” You were rambling and Peter loved it when you did so. He loved to listen to your voice. But he loved what he did next more.

He leaned down and placed a quick peck on your lips. You looked at him unbelievably and he was all red in a second. You smiled at him standing on your tippy-toes to place a gentle kiss on his lips. He kissed back, placing his hands on your waist as your free hand reached to tug the curls at the back of his head.

Both of you parted, taking a deep breath. Peter laughed nervously and you placed the red rose in his hand. You turned around and started to walk away from him, “Bye, Peter.”

“Bye, (y/n).” He sighed dreamily, “Oh, wait. (Y/n)?”

You turned around to face him once more, “Yeah.”

“Happy rose day.”

Taglist:

@spideyyeet @screamholland @overly-obsessed @venusparker @clqudsparker @barnes-heaven @spider-manholland @justanotherfanfic @spidey-swift @harrysbbby @angelhaz11 @tomhollanddaily @peterparkersshitlist @hollandroos @petehparker @parkerpete @farfromhaz @afictionaladventure16 @fairytaleparker @parkerpter @peterparkerstingle @parkerpunology @dazzling-rubabe @parkerpuff @eeyore101247 @preciouspparkers @missbasicxxx @plushparker @spideyboipeter @spideyboipete @hazmyheart @hollandraul @dahliaspidey @itstomhollands @drunklili @ploont @ppkrtingle @onelovewonderwoman @cherryredparker @hollandharrison @angelic-holland @lauras-collection @dear-selena @rubberducky-jrr @audreylovespidey706 @starlightparker @blueberryison @parkerpete @miss-nerd95

[kasdeyathebitterwoman]

12. Trust and 41. Temptation mwahahaha

WOMAN. WHAT. HAVE. YOU. DONE. -sigh-

#12+#41: Trust and temptation. 

This one also ended up being a long one. Hope you enjoy! 

How can you live with yourself after you’ve broken someone’s trust and given into temptation? Apparently really, well, as Henry was learning. It was the day of his birthday and you were getting things ready for a big, blow-out bash with his family and close friends. It wasn’t really his thing, but he liked the idea of being with his loved ones and he couldn’t say no to you. Especially when you agreed to make his birthday cake: triple-decker red velvet with vanilla buttercream frosting. Outside of his mum, you were the only one he trusted to make a cake that he could enjoy. It was going to be decadent and completely against his diet, but if he was going to do this, he was going out happy. 

That morning, you both had gotten up early. You went straight to the kitchen to begin prepping all the food for the festivities while Henry went out for a run. He was prepping for all the inappropriate foods he was planning on eating today. When he came back from the run, he jogged into the kitchen to find you putting a tray of something in the fridge. He reached around you to grab a bottle of water, gave you a sloppy kiss on the cheek, then made his way upstairs for a shower. 

Clean and refreshed, he came back downstairs to find you still in the kitchen and still cooking. He watched you for a moment as you stirred the batter for what he hoped was his cake. You flicked your eyes to him and smirked, continuing what you were doing. Henry grabbed some breakfast for himself, then left for his office. He did his thing and listened intently to the sounds coming out of the kitchen. When the doorbell rang, he darted out of his chair, eager for a distraction. His stomach was grumbling for all the delicious foods he could smell. 

Opening the door, he found his mom and dad standing on the other side. They came early to help you get everything prepped. Moments later, the first of his brothers showed up. His siblings helped keep him occupied so you and his mum could finish the food. Everyone else headed outside to hang out. His nieces and nephews chased Kal who happily indulged their games. Henry watched, content, as the festivities began. When he came inside for another beer, he saw you icing the cake, he got excited. 

“Ooooh,” he cooed excitedly. Seeing a smidge of icing that fell onto the tray, he reached for it, but you slapped his hand away. 

“Don’t you dare,” you challenged him. Slackjawed, Henry looked around the room for his mum. 

“Not my house,” she stated, throwing her hands up in defense. Henry looked back at you, clearly hurt. 

“But it’s my birthday,” he whined. You snorted and shook your head, going back to icing the cake. 

“Yeah, and I distinctly remember the Christmas disaster last year,” you retort, glancing up at him. The disaster she was referring to was the apple pie, bourbon pecan pie, and the pumpkin spice latte pie-eating debacle last Christmas. Someone snuck a piece out of every pie before she could unveil them to his family. It was a complete mystery as to who the culprit was. 

“I feel like this is your fault,” he mumbles, though when he sees you look up at him with raised eyebrows, he immediately turns to run out the door while his mother’s laughter follows him. Not long after the exchange about the cake, you and his mum were done and could finally join everyone outside. Henry found you and offered you a beer, wrapping his arms around your waist. Together, you stood to survey the scene. His family was around, laughing and having a good time. The love of his life was in his arms and his Akita was having a blast with the kids. Nothing could have made the day better.

At one point, Henry found an excuse to go inside. While he did grab a handful of snacks from the table, he eventually found himself over by the cake. You’d covered it with a lid. He removed it with the sole purpose of examining the final product. It was a glorious looking masterpiece. Three layers of plush red velvet with a vanilla buttercream frosting sandwiched between and coating the whole thing. Staring at it, he couldn’t resist the temptation. With his pinky finger, he scraped a little of the icing off the tray. As soon as the icing hit his tongue, he knew he was done for. Quickly, he grabbed a fork from the drawer and cut off a small section at the bottom. 

The bite of cake barely sat in his mouth before he practically swallowed it whole. This had to be your best work yet. Looking around, he made sure no one was watching. Then with the fork, he cut off a bigger chunk. Before he realized it, a substantial amount of the cake was missing. Panicked, he turned it around so it couldn’t be seen at first, placed the lid back on top, then ran back outside. He found one of his brothers and struck up a conversation. Occasionally, he glanced at you to see if you knew anything, but you were none the wiser. 

The day flew by as everyone enjoyed themselves. Henry had a few beers, laughed with his brothers, and embarrassed you by kissing you in front of everyone. He was happy and very glad he agreed to all of this. Things took a turn when he realized you were getting ready to serve the cake. He knew you’d see the giant hole he made. When you came out of the house holding the covered cake, singing happy birthday, the guilt took over him. 

“Wait, wait,” he said, holding up his hands. Slowly, everyone stopped to watch him. “I have a confession to make,” he took a pause, looking over at you. “I ate some of the cake earlier,” he says. A hush falls over the group. You look up at Henry innocently and pull the lid off. What he was expecting to see was not what was there. The cake underneath this lid was perfect and completely intact. 

“You mean, you ate the cake that was on the counter?” you ask. His brow furrows as he stares down at the cake. “You ate the decoy?”

“Yeah, I ate a huge chunk out of it right here,” he said, twisting the cake around to the spot that would have had a piece missing. He stared at it for a beat before your words clicked. 

“Hold on,” he looked up at you and began to hear the snickers from everyone around him. “Decoy?” 

“I knew it!” you exclaimed, pointing a finger at him. “I knew you were going to fall for it!” 

“Wait a minute, you tricked me?” he asked as you laughed. 

“Yep!”

“Why?” At that moment, his brother Charlie brought out the other cake, the one he ate, and set it down next to the perfect one. 

“You think I’m going to trust you after what happened at Christmas?” you demand. His siblings murmur some agreement and Henry looks at them shocked. Then, without missing a beat, Henry digs his hand into the cake he ate from and filings it at you. The chunks hit your face perfectly. You stand there with your mouth open shocked for a moment before diving to get your own handful of the cake. His family stood back and watched as the two of you laughed and shoved cake in each other faces. You are both covered in red velvet cake in minutes. 

“Truce?” Henry finally asks, breathless, when the last of the cake has been smashed into your hair. You look up at him, smirking. 

“Truce,” you say. Smiling, Henry leans down at kisses you as his family laughs around you. “But I still don’t trust you,” you tease. 

I’ve been working off of this Prompt List. Feel free to send me a request from this list or any other Henry idea you might have!