#passport to romance fanfic

[evanchantingpeters]

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 5)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ While filming Tron, Y/N follows Evan up in Canada, eager to surprise him for his birthday. But what starts as a joyous occasion quickly turns into a heated argument. But you know what they say about fireworks: they explode, and boy, do these two ignite into frustration and passion. Will their clash lead to a blazing reunion, or will it all go up in smoke? Hazard a guess😏

Warnings ─ Swearing, oral (both receiving), food porn, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, bondage, BDSM, mild daddy kink, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, birthday sex, missionary, nutty smutty— based on public demand ;)

Read Part 1 | Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4

Word count ─ 3.8K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

20 January, 2024, Vancouver

Your tears blur your vision as you stand in the kitchen of the Airbnb, the temporary shelter you share with Evan. The cold glow of your phone screen illuminates the screenshot of Adria’s last hurtful texts, sent just before she blocked you earlier this month.

You haven’t spoken since, and the silence gnaws at your heart, tearing at the fabric of a friendship you once believed was unbreakable. She was the kind of friend you didn’t need a social battery for, the one you always dreamed of growing old together.

Your mind involuntarily does a wild backflip, taking you back to when all the drama with her first unfolded, and your throat starts to close up as your bottom lip trembles, threatening to bring another full-blown sob fest.

*flashback alert*

You and Evan were lounging on your bed, both in your undergarments, basking in the lazy aftermath of the Emmy Awards bash a day later.

Tabloids were ablaze with afterparty pics, splashing your face as the ‘enigmatic woman’ next to Evan Peters. Headlines screamed speculation and gossip rags were practically hyperventilating, going into detective mode to uncover your identity. Whispers and rumours spread like wildfire through the gossip mill, making you feel you were under a microscope.

Whenever you’d feel the sting of public scrutiny, even on your social media accounts, Evan would nonchalantly wrap an arm around you and remind you with a reassuring smile, “Let them guess, baby. Let them spin their stories. They’re just bored, no life. We know the truth, and that’s all that counts. Don’t let them rent space in your head.”

Evan was now deep into his phone, navigating the maze of paperwork needed to smuggle you into Canada without an American passport. His fingers moved absently, tracing soothing patterns on your back.

“Baby, maybe we should go for a visitor visa or an eTA... Electronic...Travel Authorization, or whatever the hell that is. It’s the quickest way to get you in,” he muttered more to himself than to you, his brows furrowed in concentration as he scrolled further.

But you just laid sprawled out beside him, limbs tangled on him in a delicious mess, your breasts spilling over his chest. You were barely listening to all things bureaucracy over the addictive scent of his skin and his rhythmic heartbeat, aligning with the rise and fall of his breathing.

You not using a single brain cell when with your man...

You admired the perfect curve of his side profile, the little mole on the tip of his nose that always made you smile. Your fingers grazed over the ridges of his toned abs, a silent appreciation for the masterpiece he was as your mind replayed the epic dick he served you up the night before.

Your clitoris was practically combusted after that, but your period, dear Aunt Flo, decided to pay a surprise visit earlier than expected. Of course she would...

And that’s when your own phone exploded into a frenzy with Adria’s messages. If the media uproar felt invasive, hers cut deep, and it was super personal.

“Tha fuck,” you cried out, hurling yourself off the bed. You frantically unlocked the phone to read the full conversation, the venomous words on the screen hitting you like a sledgehammer. “Listen to this,” you shouted, your voice shaking with fury as you read her brutal attack aloud for Evan to bear witness, each word dripping with malice.

Evan watched, perched on the edge of the bed, his eyes widening with every syllable. His face paled as he took in the vitriol of phrases like, “pathetic boyfriend’s lil junk,” “shove it up your ass,” “he’s using you,” “useless gold digger,” “you’re dead to me, bitch”.

You exploded, launching into a tirade about Adria’s betrayal. “She’s showing her true colours now, isn’t she? ‘Friend, my ass!’ What a snake!” your voice broke with the intensity of your anger and hurt.

Evan moved to your side, throwing a black tank top on, his expression a mix of hopelessness and sympathy. He was stunned, his eyes brimming with concern for you. You felt the weight of his worry, but also the unconditional support in his gaze. You collapsed into his waiting arms, snuggling your head up in his lap. His delicate hand was soothingly running through your hair as you sobbed hard and fast, each tear absorbed by his fingertips like it was nothing as you let it all out.

“Yea, baby, what she said was messed up, no doubt,” he murmured looking down to meet your eyes as you turned over to face him. “But sometimes people lash out when they’re projecting or hurting. You had every right to keep it private for as long as you wanted, but maybe she felt left out 'cause you were keeping this big chunk of your life from her. Doesn’t excuse her going full nuclear, but it might explain where she’s coming from.”

Your chest heaves with another wave of tears, gripping onto his leg for dear life.

“Shh.. it’s gonna be alright, my love,” Evan whispered, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Look, you’re in pain from her harshness, and that’s valid. But if there’s even a slim chance of salvaging the friendship, it might be worth a shot to talk it out. Doesn’t mean you gotta forgive and forget right away, but at least give her a chance to explain... If she doubles down on the crazy, then yeah, maybe it’s time to move on.”

*flashback ends*

The oven timer jolts you back to the present moment, snapping you out of your memories. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you pull out the Pyrex dish with dinner and strike a match, igniting the candles on Evan’s cake. You know he doesn’t fancy extravagant night outs for his birthday, so you’ve planned a cosy burrito night in for him.

With a quick glance at your phone, you see his response, “I’m a few blocks away, undress yourself” to your earlier string of messages,

miss your loads

**miss you loads

well, both I guess

His reply buys you just enough minutes to set up the surprise.

Yes, the moment you touched down in Vancouver, Evan had to rush off to set. Yes, even on his birthday.

As you hustle to put the final touches in the dining area, you check the candles to be sure they’re all lit. The warm glow casts a romantic ambience, shadows dancing on the walls, amplifying the anticipation.

Suddenly, the familiar jingle of keys in the lock from the hallway sends your heart racing, your pulse pounding with enthusiasm and nerves.

“Happy birthdaaaay!” you exclaim, arms thrown in the air, as he saunters in with a charming wide grin, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you buzzing around the room.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he teases, his voice rich and satin as he takes in the scene. His hungry gaze lingers on you a little too long, and it sends electric pulses of desire across your core.

“Just making sure your birthday is as hot as you are,” you quip, your tone sticky with innuendo as you lock eyes with a sultry smirk. 

He chuckles, cheeks flushing, as he paces closer to you with a crooked smile and a glint in his eye. His smirk expands as he corners you against the table. “Oh, is that so?” he hums seductively, yanking you tightly onto his chest, his hands tracing fiery paths over your body.

You nod, shooting him a mischievous smile as you pass him a small bag with your present. He gasps in excitement as he tears the wrapping apart to unveil a bulky watch, similar to his old one. “It fits like a glove,” he cries out, quickly fastening it on his wrist only to swing you around right after, his joy infectious as he holds you close.

“Thanks a bunch, my baby. That’s a top-tier surprise, especially now that I don’t have my family around,” he mumbles, and you notice as his eyes glisten with unshed tears. “I truly love you, Y/N.”

Your heart swells as you drown into his misty eyes. “I love you too, Evan. It’s not much, but I couldn’t just shrug your birthday away without making it special. You like it?”

“Like it? I adore it, Y/N. You have no idea how much this means to me and how you bring the best out of me,” he sighs against your ear, sending tremors down your spine.

Before you can respond, his hands slip under your dress. Tugging at your strapless bra and pinching softly at your nipples, his tongue slowly twirls with yours, making your pussy leap and leak for him. Aching for his touch, you moan into his mouth, your body melting into a slime in his grasp.

Breaking the kiss, Evan’s breath burns against your breasts like a firestorm of passion as he murmurs huskily, “Why isn’t my birthday wish fulfilled yet?”

With a devilish grin, you meet his gaze, your lips a mere breath away from his. “I’m your genie for the night, sir. You ask, I shall deliver,” you purr, your hand teasing the stiffness that strains his slacks, feeling his need for you pulsating beneath your touch.

“You, on this table covered in cake.”

Your hands rub harder on his erection, drawing soft groans from him as you nibble on his neck. “Consider your wish granted,” you whisper, your voice a silken promise as you push him back slightly. Clutching his jaw, you guide his head toward the table, your touch both commanding and tender. “But don’t you want to have a bite and tell me about your day first?”

He puckers his lips, narrowing his eyes in mock contemplation, before a wicked smile spreads across his face. “Yea, I suppose I should think with my top head for a bit. Let’s enjoy this delicious dinner you’ve made, and after that, baby, I promise, I’m gonna take my time licking every inch of you clean,” he coos, and strides over his cake.

As he leans in to blow out the candles, you stand next to him, clapping, cheering, and chanting the old-age birthday song, your phone capturing every moment for your mutual private collection. The room is bathed with the warm glow of candlelight and the sweet odour of dessert.

As the last wisp of smoke from the extinguished candles curls upwards, he turns to you with a playful smile, and that’s only a prelude to the real feast that awaits you both.

Evan’s re-enactment of Jared Leto’s and his own over-the-top method acting antics has you in stitches as you wrap up your meal. “Alright, alright,” he says, attempting to mimic his character’s intense gaze and dramatic voice.

He picks up a small dish, holding it aloft like it’s the most important object in the world. “This…is no ordinary plate. It’s our shield against the vice forces of the universe.”

You can’t help but snort, staring at him incredulously, “What has this shield gone through?” you inquire, unable to contain your amusement.

Evan grins, clearly pleased with himself, but stays in character. “No, no, Y/N, you don’t understand. This dish…I mean this shield has seen things. It has felt the scorching heat of the oven—like hell itself—and the icy chill of the fridge—colder than the North Pole. It’s been through a transformation!”

His priceless facial expressions send you into another fit of laughter, doubling over and clutching your sides. “Evan, stop! I can’t—” you gasp between fits of giggles. “You’re killing me!”

With exaggerated precision, he places the dish aside and grabs a glass, his face deadly serious. “And this glass,” he exclaims, holding it up like a sacred relic, “has held the nectar of the gods.”

Your laughter reverberates across the room as you lean against the table for support. “You guys are insane!” you choke out, still laughing.

He breaks character for a moment, his own hearty laughter bubbling up. “You think Leto goes this hard at home?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“I bet he does!” you reply, chuckling. “His poor dishes must be so confused.”

You dab your lips with a napkin, flashing a seductive smile to Evan as you stand up, the fabric of your flowy dress grazing against your skin in all the right places. You start gathering the crockery, the clinking of plates echoing in the room.

He takes a leisurely sip of his wine, eyes gleaming with mischief as he watches you intently. “Mmm, what do you think you’re doing there, miss?” he hums, waving his glass towards the dishes.

“I’m tackling the post-dinner cleanup before we open a cockroach motel in here,” you quip, balancing two plates on your forearm, the curve of your hip accentuated by the movement.

He raises his head with a hint of suspicion, his tongue lightly brushing against the sides of his teeth. With a smooth, predatory gait, he glides closer to you, his presence commanding and magnetic. His arm snakes around your waist until your bodies press extremely close together, as if he wants to meld into you.

He starts planting soft kisses on your neck, the warmth of his breath seeping into you and quickening your pulse. “That’s on me, baby girl. You cook, I wash—fair play.” His voice is a lush whisper tinged with playful allure, the undercurrent of raw ecstasy between you is in flames.

You look over your shoulder and move to the side, trying to slide away. “No, it’s your birthday, and I should spoil you,” you insist.

But Evan’s embrace only tightens, his crooked smile inviting trouble. Without warning, he whirls you around, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless. The tempting aroma of alcohol and raspberries lingers on his breath, turning you on.

“What about my cake?” he murmurs against your lips, his hands massaging your ass before pressing against your throbbing sex. A choked moan escapes your lips, your need for him palpable.

With insatiable urgency, he strips you off your dress and deepens the kiss, leaving you only with your matching lingerie, a tantalising veil barely concealing your arousal.

He lifts you effortlessly, placing you atop the table with a low growl. Your breath catches as you feel the cool surface below you, contrasting sharply with the heat of his touch. He slides your panties down your thighs with a bitten lip, your tongues intertwining in a sensual dance.

Eager to feel more of him, you hastily fumble along the buttons of his shirt, your fingers trembling in anticipation. He stares at you with darkened eyes and a smirk, primal desire burning in his gaze, as he helps you rid him of the fabric separating you. 

He kisses and love bites his way down your upper half, leaving a trail of fire in his wake, until he reaches your pulsing cunt. 

As he grunts against your slippery folds, and you cover your mouth to stifle a scream, your surroundings seem to distort. It’s as if you’ve just dove into deep water, and his voice becomes muffled and distant, like you’ve submerged beneath the surface of a vast sea. Adria’s words echo through your mind, “he’s using you cause he’s stuck with his ex! Wake up!!” 

Panic seizes you, and you push him away mid-action, your breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts as you leap off the table. “Let’s have the cake now, Evan. I’ll bring spoons,” you retort hastily, your words spilling out in a frantic rush, your heart hammering against your ribcage like a wild drumbeat.

“I don’t mean eating it the conventional way…” he says, his chuckle mixed with traces of confusion.

As you hurriedly scramble to get into your dress and underwear, you move towards the kitchen with a racing heart, his voice ringing in your ears.

He rushes forward to block your path, gently grabbing your arm. “Is everything okay, Y/N? Why’re you avoiding me?” he questions, his brows furrowing in a blend of surprise and intrigue.

Your stomach always twists into knots whenever he addresses you by your government name instead of his endearing variations of “baby.” 

Your breath hitches as you pause, tension and uncertainty weaving through the atmosphere like a dense fog, obscuring your conscience. His rosy lips turn into a thin, anxious line as his eyes search yours for answers.

“I’m not, Evan,” you manage, your voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart, your cheeks warming under his penetrating gaze. “I just…nah, forget about it. I don’t want to ruin your special day,” you mutter, your words rushed and disjointed, a feeble attempt to brush off your inner turmoil with a forced hug and kiss.

But he won’t let you escape so easily. He gently pulls you back, cupping your face in between his thumb and index finger. “What is it, baby? You can speak to me,” he urges, his tone soft but insistent. His eyes flicker around your face, concern etched into every line of his handsome face.

You lower your head and roll your lips into your mouth as tears are on the verge to spill. “I want there to be more to us than just sex,” you finally muster the courage to verbalise, your voice shaky.

His eyebrows shoot up, lips parting in disbelief. “But there is,” he fires back, his forehead creasing with lines of protest. “In fact, I’ve never felt a healthy and substantial connection like this before. It’s deeper than anything I’ve experienced,” he defends, his voice laced with desperate sincerity, his eyes imploring for you to understand.

He reaches out to pull you into his arms, his touch soft and comforting, but you step back, shaking your head in subtle denial.

He sighs in exasperation, his patience already fraying. “Honestly, what’s going on, Y/N?” he presses, his tone firmer.

You narrow your eyes at him, our tongue poking at your cheek, as your voice crescendos. “You wanna know what’s going on, Evan? You’re using me to get over your ex, that’s what’s going on,” you blurt out, arms folded across your chest. The words just tumble from your lips before you can stop them, charged by the doubt that’s been itching you.

His face contorts in shock, eyes widening, and his mouth hanging open in stunned silence. “What? Where did this come from?”

“It’s just something Adria threw at me,” you explain, compulsively rubbing your forehead, “she’s been in my head, making me doubt everything all over again.”

Evan’s eyes harden at the mention Adria, a glimmer of anger flashing across his features, but his touch remains delicate. “What did she say?” he asks, his tone rigid, but he’s clearly battling to keep his cool.

“It was her message the day we were at mine after the Emmy party,” you confess, croaking with the weight of your revelation. “She thinks you’re with me because you’re still hung up on your ex, and I’m your rebound.”

Evan’s expression darkens, a storm brewing behind his eyes as he’s reminded of these infamous texts. He pulls away slightly, a coldness suddenly creeping into his demeanour. “Thought we’re over this, Y/N. You know she’s just annoyed, hurt, or envious...dunno...that you didn’t say a word about our relationship, and she’s just trying to poison us.”

“How do I know that’s true?” you snap, frustration boiling over and your voice quivering with intensity as you confront him.

His jaw tightens, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. “You should trust me,” he persists, his voice strained with emotion. “I’ve done all I could to show you I’m committed to us. Why do you keep letting her get to you?”

“Because it’s not just her, Evan!” you cry out, your voice cracking. “It’s the internet, and sometimes, I feel it too. Like maybe you’re not over your ex, and I’m just a placeholder here to fill a void,” you admit, tears flooding down your face, your chest heaving.

“Y/N...don’t cry, please,” he whispers, his voice momentarily gentle yet tinged with worry. “That’s ridiculous!,” he continues calmer than before. “We all carry our personal baggage, but I’m with you because I want to be. If you can’t see or feel that, then what are we even doing?”

You take a step back, your own anger rising, your chest tighter than before. Your stare turns into a furious glare, your heart rate soaring. “I just needed to hear you say it, okay? you retort. “I needed to know that I’m not crazy for having these doubts.”

Evan runs a hand through his hair, frustration plastered into every tense muscle of his body. “I’ve told you a million times, Y/N. I love you. I’m here for you. If you can’t see or feel that, then maybe we need to rethink this. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

His words stay the air like a heavy cloud, suffocating the room with their weight. The silence that follows is deafening, amplifying the ache inside you.

He shakes his head, his voice low and bitter now. “Whatever,” he spits out, his footsteps stomping against the floorboards as he storms out of the room, leaving you standing there, heart thumping and more tears streaming down your face.

You lie on the couch, staring blankly at the TV droning on in a meaningless chatter as you absentmindedly flick through channels. The sound of the shower running in the background serves as a grim reminder of Evan, who, you bet, is still fuming even through closed doors.

Why tonight, of all nights, damn it all?? It’s his birthday, and it’s meant for joy and celebration, not this mess of baseless accusations and lame tears. You curse yourself for allowing Adria’s betrayal-infused ill-intent to infiltrate your mind, killing Evan’s love and dedication with your insecurities and silly suspicion.

The fight plays back in your mind like a horror movie on repeat, each word exchanged like a dagger to your heart. You recall Evan’s wounded face, the disbelief in his eyes...they haunt you all like ghosts in the night.

Your heart bleeds with regret as you realise the magnitude of your mistake, wishing you could just rewind and take your words back. The TV blares on, but the images just blur into a haze as you stay trapped in a loop of guilt and self-loathing.

The shower shuts off, and your heart skips a beat. You hear Evan moving around in the bathroom, the sound of the towel rack clinking, the soft thud of him stepping out. You squeeze the remote tighter, flipping through channels faster, trying to find something—anything—that could distract you from the impending confrontation.

Shortly after, he enters the living room, and you can’t help but drool over his on-my-knees-daddy-you’re-a-snack grey comfort shorts and white tank top, his hair damp and his expression weary. He glances at the TV, but says nothing.

The silence stretches, thick and constricting, and you feel you’re stuck in an endless, narrow cylindrical corridor that leads to nowhere. 

“Evan...” you dare, your voice wavering like a candle flame in a strong breeze, but it feels like screaming in a dream. 

He freezes, his back to you, shoulders stiffen as if bracing for impact. “What is it, Y/N?” His voice slices through the silence like a knife, sharp and guarded, a far cry from its usual warm and mellow timbre.

“I’m sorry,” the words spill from your lips, heavy with remorse, as you sit up on the couch. “My bad for bringing this up on your special day…very selfish of me, and I shouldn’t have let Adria’s words shake me like that.”

Evan turns slowly, his eyes piercing into yours as he flops onto the sofa next to you with a heavy sigh. “Then, why did you? Why allow her to destroy what we have?”

You take a shuddering breath, trying to alleviate the storm raging within you. “I don’t know… Maybe because, deep down, I’m terrified. Terrified that this is fleeting and all too good to be true. Terrified that I’m not enough for you.”

With a tentative move, he redirects his eyes towards you, the harsh lines of his expression softening just a fraction. “You’re more than enough, Y/N. But you have to trust and believe me. Why can’t you do that?” he asks, his voice regaining its soothing texture, akin to sweetened nectar.

“I’m trying,” you huff out before letting out a dramatic sigh, feigning a pout as your fingers caress along his stomach, getting lower along the edges of his firm abdomen. You admire the rugged strength of his arms, even in moments like this.

Well...damn, sir!

He squares his jaw, attempting to maintain his resolve (resulting in abject failure). “Try harder, Y/N because I need you in my life,” he mutters, his voice faltering slightly as you lean forward to trail kisses over his neck. Tough Evan is really like giving Bambi a gun.

It’s officially reckless business o’ clock. 

You sense the tension in his body easing, his reservations crumbling beneath your touch. With a mischievous spark in your eye, you close the gap between you, mere inches separating your lips. “But you know what I should do?”

He quirks his eyebrow, intrigued by the sudden shift in your attitude, but he instantly drops his head back, pretending to be unbothered. “I don’t care. I’m still pissed at you…but tell me, even though I don’t care,” he retorts, facing forward, but his need to know is crystal clear in his face.

You shoot him a playful grin as your fingers trace tantalising patterns along his bulge, feeling his hardness twitching under the fabric. “I should make it up to you,” you declare, an enchanting lilt to your voice, as you slowly undo the strings of his shorts.

A shudder courses through Evan’s body, jeopardising his composure. The intoxicating scent of your arousal and the softness of your touch prove too much for him to bear. “I’ve give you your own Kinder surprise,” you whisper seductively, your hand slipping underneath his shorts.

He fights to hide his growing erection, his breath comes in uneven gasps as he adjusts his shorts. “And what’s your grand plan?” he sighs, his voice husky with desire. His eyes are dark with anticipation while his resistance disintegrates with each passing second.

You sink between his legs, making him harder with every graceful sway of your hips. “Oh, I have a few ideas,” you chirp, pulling your hair up in a ponytail in an agonisingly slow pace.

You catch a glimpse of the outline of his cock protruding beneath his boxers (caught in 8k ultra HD), the fabric adorned with a tell-tale wet spot. Needless to say, he’s far more excited than he’s letting on. “Come on, baby Evan. Don’t play dumb with me.” 

Your mouth waters with anticipatory thrill, your wet centre throbbing with need. Your senses intensify, thighs instinctively clenching as you await him to shove down his shorts.

Evan swallows nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. In a swift, “fuck it” motion, he loops down the waistband of his boxers until his cock springs free, standing proudly in the air. Your gaze, once fixated on the crop of dark pubic hair gracing the base, now observes the veiny pathways that run along his thick length, leading to the swollen tip—flushed red and leaking with eagerness.

Your eyes, brimming with excitement, dart back and forth between his face and his erection, gauging his reaction as you test the boundaries. Encouraged by his desperate nod, you come closer, your lips ghosting the underside of his shaft, your warm breath teasing his sensitive skin, coaxing it to jerk in response.

“Crap, Y/N…I should be mad at you, but you’re too good at this…” he breathes out, already roused by the sight of your plush lips caressing the heat exuding from his cock, sending a wave of warmth sweeping over him. His legs part further, an unspoken invitation for you to draw nearer.

You giggle before taking the plunge, slowly skidding your lips along the sensitive underside of his dick. A soft, almost inaudible groan escapes his lips, and it’s the go-ahead you need to continue. From top to bottom, you pepper his throbbing length with tender, soothing kisses.

His hand immediately reaches for your hair, his fingers finding solace in the roots to distract himself from finishing too fast. Lowering your head, you tilt it to the side, your tongue marking a stripe against his sensitive balls. Eagerly, you press your face forward, your lips latching onto one of them, suckling on it with a gentle yet persistent rhythm, each release eliciting a small pop.

“Mmff!— fuck..” Evan’s jaw goes slack, a deep groan rolling off his tongue the moment your mouth makes contact, his resistance melting away under the spell of your touch.

Your kisses skim from the base and drift all the way up to the tip of his cock, tongue salty with precum as it deftly strokes the ridges. His body quivers, responding with an urgent jolt of his hips. It’s a wordless plea for you to finally take his cock into the warm and wet comfort of your mouth. 

“Stop torturing me, for the love of...I’m gonna explode,” he groans, grasping on a pillow as if it’s his last lifeline, and you can feel the urgency in his veins popping out. Ignoring his imploring, you press your lips right onto the swollen head, treating it to small kitten licks on his sensitive slit.

“You’re so goddamn gorgeous...” he grunts, teetering on the edge of a whimper. His hips buck forward once more, ramming his tip deeper into your mouth. The evidence of your arousal is just as indisputable as his, your panties most definitely sodden from the act of using your mouth on Evan alone, cunt convulsing from his lewd noises with each stroke. His raw groans, the praises that spill from his mouth, and the way your name dances off his tongue like silk makes the fiery bundle of elation simmer in your belly.

His cock delves deeper into your throat as his hips undulated to the flow of his ragged panting. He can see the glistening of tears stinging your eyes, your whines muffled out around him. His tip bullies the back of your throat with each jerky thrust until it’s sore, pushing so deep that your nose buries itself in the tufts of baby hair on his pelvis.

His lips, now parted and glistening, ooze vulnerability, while his doe eyes shimmer with a feverish glimmer. Everything about him in this moment is mesmerising, leaving you no choice but to be spellbound. The rippling tremors jolting through Evan’s frame indicate he’s nearing his climax, fire pooling low in his abdomen, ready to burst.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he rubs the bridge of his nose in an attempt to quell the tightly coiled spring in his stomach, yearning for release. His balls tighten, cock pulsing as his thrusts into your mouth turn sloppy. “Y/N, I’m gonna cum,” he growls, a strand of your saliva trailing from his tip as he withdraws. 

“Fill my mouth up, baby boy,” you plead, looking up at him with hungry eyes, your mouth open and primed for his treat. 

With a wicked smile, you bite your lip before he softly slaps his dick against your tongue. Then, with one final forceful pump as he holds your head close, ripples of cum colour your mouth white. Trapped in his strong grip, you gulp down his bitter torrent, suppressing the urge to gag as your tongue battles with the arousing assault.

“Fuck, you’re such a naughty slut, aren’t you?” he groans, chuckling, as you’re still on your knees, gingerly wiping away the saliva and residue from the corners of your mouth with his top. With ease, he picks you up and crashes his lips onto yours with unforeseen fervour. 

“Your naughty slut,” you correct, raising your index finger like a twin exclamation mark. As you roughen the kiss, you squirm against his hand as he rubs your clit, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through you.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he whispers, his fingers sliding up and down your soaked slit, eliciting bated moans from you. “You’ve got a wish to fulfil.” 

“Do what you want with me, Mr Peters,” you coo, suckling on his bottom lip. Wrapping your loose hair around his wrist, he pulls your head back to lavish your neck with soft nibbles, his teeth grazing your skin, making you gasp.

With a swift motion, he bends you over the arm of the couch, your breath catching in your throat as he takes his time gracing your ass cheeks with red marks from his playful smacks. “You’re gonna give me everything tonight,” he growls, his voice thick with lust. His hand slips under your dripping pussy, yanking down your panties as his fingers tease your entrance.

You push back against him, craving more, as his free hand grips your hips, holding you in place. “Please, Evan,” you whimper, your voice trembling with need.

He chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your ear. “Begging already? I like it,” he murmurs, his fingers finally plunging into you, making you cry out in pleasure. He pumps them in and out, his thumb circling your clit, driving you to the edge.

“Fuck,” you moan, your body quivering as he continues to work you, his fingers curling inside you, hitting just that perfect spot. 

“Why move so much, baby girl? Want me to punish you?” he snaps, his words almost entirely drowned out by your loud mewling. 

Before you know it, he pulls back slightly. He stands up, reaching for a drawer nearby and pulling out a length of silk rope. “I’m gonna tie you up and make you scream my name until you can’t take it anymore,” he mutters, his voice sending shivers of anticipation through you.

Your breath catches in your throat as he binds your wrists together, the silk smooth against your skin, both restraining and arousing. He secures the rope behind your back as you’re standing on all fours at the centre of the couch, ensuring you’re immobile and completely at his mercy.

He grips your hair and lines his erect cock at your entrance, deliberately rubbing his tip on your slit so that your cum trickles down your thighs. Sucking in a breath, he slaps your butt with a force that makes you squeal in sheer horniness. 

“Evan, fuck me,” you cry out, staring over your shoulder with pleading eyes. 

“We’re not done yet, baby,” he asserts, his voice dripping with promise. His hands roam your body, exploring every inch as if he’s memorising you, his touch both tender and demanding. 

“Damn, you look so beautiful like this,” he huffs out, his voice filled with reverence as he takes in the sight of you bound and vulnerable before him. He trails kisses down your body, his lips worshipping your skin as he moves lower, his hands spreading your thighs apart.

“I wanna taste you,” he growls, his mouth descending on your pussy, his tongue flicking and teasing your clit from an angle you’ve never tried before, driving you wild with need.

“Something’s missing,” he breathes out, and dips his fingers in his cake by the coffee table. He scoops a bit of icing and stretches your weeping cunt, smearing it along your inner thighs and folds. His eyes gleam with mischievous delight as he licks and nibbles his way through the sweet confection and onto your sensitive skin, making you squirm and scream with pleasure. 

You moan loudly, the pleasure overwhelming as he literally devours you, his tongue and lips delving and sucking you to the brink of madness. “Evan, please,” you spill out in desperation, your voice coming out in punchy, shaky sobs.

He chuckles darkly against you, the vibrations sending waves of ecstasy through your body. “Cum for me again, baby girl,” he commands, his voice a sinister growl as he continues his onslaught, his fingers joining his relentless mouth to push you over the edge once more.

You scream his name, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. Your walls clench around his mouth and fingers, your vision going white as you’re consumed by pleasure. Evan doesn’t stop, his mouth and fingers driving you higher and higher, leaving you a quivering, breathless mess.

Before you can even catch your breath, he flips you over so you lie on your side, your legs folded, head resting on the other arm of the couch. His eyes are dark with passion as he places himself on top of your thigh, and you lick the sweet remnants of cake from his mouth in despair, tasting yourself along the way. 

Your breath tickles his ear as he reaches for the cake, scraping up a generous blob of icing with his finger. Bringing it to your lips, he watches intently as you lick it from his finger, your tongue swirling around his digit, eliciting a guttural groan of need from deep within him.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll forget your own name,” he promises, his voice a seductive whisper as he thrusts into you, filling you completely, your lips locked, his eyes fixed on you. 

You arch into him, still bound, mewling in delight as he slams into you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. “Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, your mind going blank as you lose yourself in the sensation, your world narrowing down to the feel of him inside you, driving you to the edge again and again.

Finally, he releases you from the silk binds, his eyes filled with satisfaction as he pulls you into his arms. “We’re not through yet,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a promise of more.

He gently shifts you into missionary position, his eyes meeting yours with an intense, burning desire. He enters you slowly, savouring every inch, his movements deliberate and controlled as he begins to jam in you, each motion sending tides of ecstasy through your body.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, the connection between you smouldering, each thrust bringing your high closer. “Evan, please, I need you,” you whine, your voice a desperate plea for release.

“Mine,” he growls, his movements becoming more erratic as he nears his own release. “You’re mine, Y/N.”

“Yours,” you agree, your voice a breathless moan as you feel another orgasm building, the intensity almost too much to bear.

With one final powerful thrust, he sends you spiralling into your climax, his own release following along, your bodies entwined as he collapses on top of you, both of you spent and satisfied. He kisses you softly, his lips lingering on yours as you both catch your breath, the intensity of the moment leaving you both breathless and craving more.

“Happy birthday to me,” you murmurs, a contented smirk gracing his lips as you both revel in the afterglow of post-coital bliss, trapped in a tight, loving embrace.

“I should piss you off more often if you’re gonna dick me down like this,” you joke, and your mutual giggles fill the room.

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Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[ryatt-stories]

My First Fanfic!!!!

Serpents and Secrets

Book Summary:

Genevieve Morningstar, a half-blood witch with the rare gift of communicating with animals and nature, transfers from her Muggle school to Hogwarts, where she hopes to find acceptance and belonging. Despite the excitement of starting her fourth year at the renowned school, Genevieve is haunted by strange dreams and a lingering sense of unease.

As she settles into life at Hogwarts, her Hufflepuff spirit drives her to protect the magical creatures and plants around her from the dangers of poachers. However, she is unaware that her actions have attracted the attention of a mysterious being who watches her from the shadows, intrigued by her unique connection to the natural world.

While attempting to uncover the identity of this enigmatic figure and their motives, Genevieve finds herself growing closer to Regulus Black, a quiet Slytherin boy from a powerful Pureblood family. As their paths intertwine, she begins to suspect that Regulus may be connected to the mysterious presence that is both guiding and watching her every move. Caught between her desire to protect the magical world and the secrets that surround her, Genevieve must navigate the complexities of friendship, romance, trust, and the unknown forces at play.

Chapter 1: The Call of Destiny

Genevieve heard the sound of someone screaming her name. It was a distant echo at first, pulling her from a dream where she was running through a forest, her feet barely touching the ground as the trees whispered secrets in her ears. But the voice grew louder, more urgent, until it finally broke through the haze of sleep.

“Genevieve!”

She bolted upright, her heart pounding as the dream slipped away. For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was. Then it hit her.

“Ah, finger worms! I can’t believe I overslept! I’ve got a plane to catch!”

Genevieve leaped out of bed, her feet landing on the cool wooden floor with a soft thud. The morning light streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over her cluttered room. Clothes were strewn across the floor, and books were piled high on every available surface, most of them on magical creatures and plants. She scrambled to get dressed, putting on blue jeans and tshirt. She grabbed the green knitted sweater her stepmom had made for her, slipping it on as she hurried to the mirror.

Her reflection stared back at her, a young girl with deep brown skin, small almond amber eyes, and a mass of curly natural hair that seemed to have a mind of its own. Genevieve grabbed her comb and quickly worked through the tangles, pulling her curls into a style that wouldn’t get in her way.

As she finished, the door to her room swung open, and Veronica, her stepmom, stood in the doorway with a frustrated look on her face.

“Genevieve, you need to hurry up! We’re going to miss the plane to London. Do you have everything? Clothes, passport, and hygiene essentials”

“Yes, I have everything, and—” Genevieve started, but before she could finish, Veronica had already turned on her heel and was heading down the hall with her bags in tow.

“Let’s go, Evie! We can’t be late for our flight!” Veronica called over her shoulder.

Genevieve sighed, grabbing her mushroom-patterned Converse and slipping them on. She glanced around the room one last time, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Then she whistled softly, and her familiar, an orange cat named Apollo, leaped onto the bed with a graceful pounce.

“Let’s go, Apollo. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us,” Genevieve said, with a hint of excitement in her voice.

“I’m right behind you, Evie,” Apollo replied, his voice a soft purr as he padded after her.

As they made their way downstairs, Genevieve’s thoughts drifted back to the day she first discovered her gift. She was around the age of six, playing in the garden. She always felt a connection to the world around her, the way the wind seemed to sing in her ears, or how the flowers would turn towards her as if they were smiling. But that day was different.

She was sitting under the old oak tree at the edge of the garden, humming a tune her mother used to sing to her, when a small bird landed on her knee. It chirped at her, its little head cocked to one side as if it were waiting for something. Genevieve giggled and chirped back, mimicking its sounds. To her surprise, the bird responded, and before she knew it, they were having a conversation.

But that thrill quickly turned to confusion and fear when she ran inside to tell her parents. Her father, a compassionate wizard who worked for the Council of Magical Law, listened with understanding, while her mother, a muggle, looked worried, fearing how others might view and treat their daughter. If her gift was revealed, due to them living in the muggle world.

Over time, as more animals began talking to her, and even the trees and flowers seemed to reach out with their own kind of language, leading Genevieve too became the odd girl in the neighborhood who whispered and giggled to herself, It didn’t take long for her parents to notice. The whispers from neighbors and the awkward stares from strangers made them uncomfortable. They tried to reassure them, saying it was just a phase, that all children had vivid imaginations. But when they caught her having an intense conversation with a squirrel one afternoon, they couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Genevieve, darling,” her mother had said gently, kneeling in front of her as they sat in the garden. “I know you're a special little girl, and that you have an amazing gift. But sometimes, people don’t understand things that are different. It’s best if you keep this… gift a secret, okay?”

Genevieve nodded, her small face serious as she promised not to talk to the animals and nature in public. But the weight of that promise was heavy. It meant hiding a part of herself, pretending to be something she wasn’t. And as a young girl, that was harder than anything else.

Her mother died not too long after that day from cancer, leaving Genevieve with a father who loved her dearly but was often too busy with his work to notice the small, lonely girl she was becoming. When her father remarried a pure blood witch named Veronica, things got better. Veronica was warm and loving, and she fully understood the depth of Genevieve’s connection to the world around her. 

Even now, as she hurried down the stairs, the memories of those early days clung to her. She’d grown used to keeping her conversations with Apollo private, knowing that her ability to speak with animals wasn’t something most people would understand. Hogwarts, the school Genevieve was transferring to from her regular Muggle school, she couldn't help but feel a mix of nerves and excitement as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Hogwarts was going to be different; not just a place to learn magic—it was a school where she might finally belong.

Veronica was already at the door, checking her watch anxiously. “Evie, you must make haste! We can’t miss the flight.”

Genevieve hurried to grab her suitcase, stuffed with books and a few personal treasures, before following Veronica out the door. Apollo trailed behind, his tail flicking back and forth as he scanned the surroundings with sharp, knowing eyes.

The drive to the airport was a blur. Genevieve stared out the window, watching the familiar landscape of her neighborhood give way to the busy streets leading to the city. The car was filled with the hum of the engine and the low chatter of the radio, but Genevieve’s mind was elsewhere. She wondered what it would be like at Hogwarts. Would the other students accept her? What subjects will she like? What kind animals and creatures will she meet?

They arrived at the airport with just enough time to check in and board the plane. Genevieve felt a flutter of anxiety in her chest as she watched the other passengers mill about, but she took a deep breath and reminded herself that this was just the first step in a new adventure.

As they settled into their seats, Veronica leaned over and gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re going to love Hogwarts, Evie. It’s a special place, and I know you’ll find friends there who understand you.”

“I hope so,” Genevieve replied, her voice soft. Before Genevieve pulled out her book she whispered to Veronica “Can you tell me about your experience of Hogwarts? 

Veronica’s expression softened, and she leaned back in her seat, her eyes taking on a faraway look as she recalled memories of her own school days. “Oh, Hogwarts,” she began with a wistful smile. “It was a place like no other. I remember my first time seeing the castle—tall and cold, but at the same time full of warmth. The Great Hall has an enchanted ceiling that mirrored the sky outside… It felt like stepping into a world where anything was possible.”

Genevieve listened intently, her book forgotten in her lap as Veronica continued. “I was sorted into Ravenclaw, you know. The house of the clever and the curious. I spent countless hours in the library, losing myself in books about ancient spells and magical creatures. But it wasn’t just about the learning. It was the friendships, the adventures… the feeling of belonging to something bigger.”

“Did you ever feel… out of place?” Genevieve asked quietly, her fingers tracing the edge of her book. “Because of who you are?”

Veronica turned to her, her eyes warm and understanding. “There were times, yes. Being a pure-blood came with its own set of expectations, and not all of them were easy to live up to. But Hogwarts has a way of bringing out the best in you. I made friends from all of the houses—people who were so different from me…. that I grew to care for deeply. It’s where I learned that it’s okay to be different.”

Genevieve nodded, absorbing her words. She’d always feared that her unique gift would make her an outcast, even in a school as magical as Hogwarts. But hearing Veronica talk about her experiences gave her a glimmer of hope. Maybe she really could find a place where she belonged—a place where her gift wouldn’t be something to hide, but something to celebrate.

“What about Slytherins, did you know any?” Genevieve asked, her voice tinged with curiosity. 

Veronica’s smile grew a little more thoughtful. “Yes, I did. Slytherins get a bad reputation, but it’s important to remember that not everyone in that house is the same. They’re ambitious, resourceful, and loyal to those they care about. Some of my closest friends were in Slytherin. They taught me the value of determination and standing up for what you believe in.”

“Thanks, Veronica,” she said softly, feeling a bit more at ease. Her step mom reached over and squeezed her hand. “You’re going to do just fine, Evie. Just remember to be yourself. That’s the most important thing.”

The flight to London was long, but Genevieve passed the time by reading one of her favorite books about spells. Apollo, curled up in his carrier beneath the seat, occasionally sent her comforting thoughts through their bond. He was as curious as she was about what awaited them at Hogwarts.

By the time they landed at Heathrow Airport, the sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the city. They navigated through the bustling crowd, picked up their luggage, and made their way to the Leaky Cauldron, where they would stay for the night before heading to King’s Cross Station in the afternoon.

Genevieve barely had time to take in the sights and sounds of Diagon Alley as they made their way to the inn. She knew she would have plenty of opportunities to explore once she was settled at school.

That night, as she lay in the unfamiliar bed of their cozy room at the Leaky Cauldron, Genevieve found it hard to sleep. The events of the day had been overwhelming, and her mind was spinning with thoughts of what was to come. But there was also a sense of anticipation that kept her awake—a feeling that she was on the brink of something life-changing.

Just as she was starting to drift off, she felt a soft nudge at her side. She opened her eyes to see Apollo sitting beside her, his bright green eyes glowing in the dim light.

“Everything’s going to be fine, Evie,” he purred, his voice a soothing presence in her mind. “We’ll face whatever comes together.”

Genevieve smiled and reached out to scratch behind his ears. “I know, Apollo. I just hope Hogwarts is ready for us.” With that, she closed her eyes again.

As she fell into a deep slumber, her dreams morphed from the usual bright forest filled with joyful animals to something darker and more unsettling. She found herself walking along a narrow, winding path that seemed to stretch endlessly ahead. The vibrant colors of her dreams faded into shades of gray, the air thick with an oppressive silence. The once-familiar whispers of nature were replaced by a foreboding stillness.

Suddenly, she noticed a weathered sign partially obscured by twisted vines and shadows. The words “Forbidden Forest” sent a shiver down her spine. Discomfort flooded her senses, and instinctively, she wanted to turn back. But the deeper she ventured, the more it felt like an unseen force was pulling her in, drawing her closer to the trees that loomed like ancient giants.

Just as she resolved to turn around, a chilling voice slithered through the darkness. It was low and serpentine, echoing as if it came from the very roots of the forest floor.

“Come little one. Your fate is entwined with the shadows, and they will feast upon your fear.”

Genevieve froze, her heart racing in her chest. The voice coiled around her thoughts, invasive and unsettling, as if it were a predator toying with its prey.

“Your gift—such a rarity, but in the wrong hands, it could lead to ruin. Come to me, Genevieve, and I shall show you the power that lies beneath the surface. Embrace the darkness; it is your true destiny.”

As the words wrapped around her, Genevieve felt an irresistible pull toward the heart of the forest. Panic surged within her, and she stumbled backward, desperately trying to escape the sinister allure of the voice. But the shadows began to close in around her, twisting and curling like tendrils seeking to ensnare her.

“Join me, and you will see the world as it truly is,” the voice hissed, growing louder, more insistent. “You will never be alone again. Let the darkness in.”

Just as the shadows reached out to envelop her, Genevieve woke with a gasp, her heart pounding and breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The dim light of the sunlight peeking through the window surrounded her, and the sounds of the birds tweeting.

“Evie, are you okay?” Veronica asked, her voice laced with concern.

Genevieve blinked, still shaken by the dream. “I—I think so. It was just a dream. A really strange one.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Veronica offered, her eyes searching Genevieve’s face for any sign of distress.

Genevieve shook her head, not ready to relive the dark whispers that had haunted her. “Not right now. I think I just need a moment.”

Apollo, now awake, sensed her anxiety. “What happened?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, still feeling the remnants of the eerie atmosphere that had engulfed her in sleep. “It felt so real… There was a voice, a dark one, trying to lure me into the Forbidden Forest.”

“Just a dream,” Apollo reminded her, though his own tone held a hint of worry. “But perhaps it’s a warning. The Forbidden Forest is no place for anyone, especially not for you, Evie. You must be careful.”

Genevieve nodded, her mind racing with the implications of her dream. She had read about the Forbidden Forest—tales of dangers lurking within, and creatures that fed on fear. It was a place where few dared to tread, even for the bravest of students. But she shook it off, pushing the lingering unease to the back of her mind as she got ready for the day ahead.

Today was a big day—one of the last steps before heading to Hogwarts. She and Veronica were going to Diagon Alley to pick up her school materials and uniforms, and then they’d head to Platform 9 3/4, where her dad would be waiting to send her off. As Genevieve and Apollo walked down Diagon Alley, both were wide-eyed with wonder, the vibrant and bustling street teeming with magic in every corner.

Diagon Alley was like a dream come to life, a kaleidoscope of colors, sounds, and smells. The cobblestone streets were lined with shops, each one more intriguing than the last. Witches and wizards in robes of all colors moved about, their wands occasionally flicking to perform small tasks—levitating packages, repairing signs, or cleaning windows. The air was filled with the scent of fresh parchment, and the faint crackle of enchantments

“Look at all this, Apollo!” Genevieve whispered excitedly, her eyes darting from one shop to the next. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

Apollo, perched comfortably on her shoulder, flicked his tail in agreement. “It’s quite something, isn’t it? And the smells! So many new scents to explore. I can’t decide which one I like best.”

Genevieve giggled softly. “Maybe we can find you some magical treats before we leave. I bet there’s something here that even you haven’t tried.”

Apollo purred, clearly pleased with the idea. “Now that sounds like a plan. But first, we’ve got to get you ready for Hogwarts. Can’t have you showing up without a proper wand, now can we?”

Genevieve smiled at his teasing tone. “No, we can’t. I wonder what kind of wand I’ll get. I’ve heard they’re supposed to choose you.”

 Veronica gently took her hand and guided her into a nearby shop with a sign that read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. The interior of the shop was dimly lit and filled with the scent of polished wood and old magic. Shelves stacked high with narrow boxes lined the walls, each one containing a wand awaiting its rightful owner.

The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, and Genevieve felt a tingle of excitement mixed with nervousness as they stepped inside. Before she could take in more of the surroundings, the owner of the shop, a tall, elderly man with piercing eyes, approached them.

“Good morning,” he said in a voice as smooth as silk. “And what brings you to Ollivanders today?”

Veronica smiled warmly, glancing down at Genevieve before addressing the shopkeeper. “We’re here to get a wand for this special girl,” she said, giving Genevieve’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Genevieve, who had been quietly conversing with Apollo, looked up in surprise at being called “special” in front of the wandmaker. The word carried weight, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to embrace it fully.

As Ollivander’s keen eyes landed on Genevieve, they seemed to flicker with a knowing glint. “Ah, a first wand, is it?” he asked, his gaze shifting to take in the orange cat perched on her shoulder. “And it seems you’ve brought a companion.”

Genevieve nodded, her nervousness giving way to curiosity. “Yes, sir. This is Apollo. He’s more than just a companion—he’s my familiar.”

Ollivander raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “A familiar, you say? Nice to meet you Apollo!”

Apollo, always one to appreciate attention, flicked his tail proudly and gave Ollivander a respectful nod.

Ollivander chuckled softly, then turned his attention back to Genevieve. “Well then, let’s see what the wand has to say, shall we?”

Genevieve swallowed, her heart beating a little faster as Ollivander began to move gracefully among the shelves, pulling out a few boxes at a time. He placed them on the counter in front of her, each one carefully opened to reveal a unique wand nestled within.

“Now, young lady,” Ollivander began, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “Wands are not merely tools; they are extensions of your very being. The right wand will choose you, and you’ll feel the connection when it happens. So, let’s begin.”

He handed her the first wand, a delicate piece of wood with a faint shimmer to it. “Willow, twelve inches, unicorn hair core. Give it a try.”

Genevieve hesitantly took the wand in her hand, but the moment her fingers wrapped around it, she felt… nothing. She waved it gently, but the wand seemed unresponsive, lifeless.

Ollivander swiftly took it back, nodding thoughtfully. “No, not quite right. Let’s try another.”

He handed her a second wand, this one slightly shorter and made of mahogany. “Mahogany, eleven inches, dragon heartstring. Perhaps this one?”

Genevieve held the wand, but once again, there was no spark, no sense of connection. She shook her head, feeling a bit disappointed.

“Patience, my dear,” Ollivander said kindly, as he returned the wand to its box. “The right one will make itself known.”

After several more wands, Genevieve was beginning to wonder if she would ever find the right one. But then Ollivander paused, a curious expression on his face. He turned and reached for a box that had been tucked away in a corner, its lid covered in a layer of dust.

“Hmm… this one is a bit unusual, but I have a feeling,” he murmured, almost to himself.

He opened the box and revealed a wand made of dark, rich wood with an intricate pattern of vines carved along its length. “Ebony, thirteen inches, phoenix feather core. A rare combination, but one with great potential.”

Genevieve felt an inexplicable pull as she reached for the wand. The moment her fingers closed around it, a warm, tingling sensation spread through her hand and up her arm. The wand felt like it was humming with energy, and as she gave it a tentative wave, a shower of golden sparks erupted from the tip, filling the shop with a soft, glowing light.

Ollivander smiled, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Ah, yes. Ebony for strength and resilience, paired with a phoenix feather for renewal and powerful magic. A fitting wand for someone with a unique gift like yours.”

Genevieve stared at the wand in her hand, a mixture of awe and relief washing over her. It felt right, as if it had been waiting for her all along.

Veronica beamed, her eyes shining with pride. “It’s perfect, Evie. I knew you’d find the right one.”

Genevieve nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. “Thank you,” she said softly, both to Ollivander and to the wand that had chosen her.

As they left the wand shop, Genevieve, Veronica, and Apollo continued their shopping, gathering everything they would need for the upcoming school year at Hogwarts. They picked up textbooks that promised endless knowledge, quills and parchment paper that would soon be filled with spells and notes, and the school uniforms that Genevieve imagined herself wearing as she explored the grand castle. They even found a few magical treats for Apollo, who eagerly sniffed at the packages as they were placed in the shopping bag.

As they wandered through the bustling crowd, Genevieve’s attention was drawn to a boy dressed all in black, standing with his parents. Something about him caught her eye, and she couldn’t help but stare for a moment. The boy seemed to sense her gaze and turned to look at her. Their eyes met, and Genevieve, caught off guard, gave him a magnanimous wave. But the boy’s expression remained cold and impassive. Without acknowledging her, he turned away and continued walking with his parents, leaving Genevieve feeling a bit flustered.

“He seems to be not a nice person,” Apollo remarked, still perched on her shoulder, his sharp eyes following the boy as he disappeared into the crowd.

Genevieve stayed silent, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of the mysterious boy. There was something about him that unsettled her, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She decided to push the thought aside for now and walked over to Veronica, who was browsing through a selection of cauldrons.

“Do you have the treats that you wanted for Apollo?” Veronica asked with a smile as she noticed Genevieve approaching.

Genevieve nodded, holding up the small bag of magical cat treats they had picked out earlier. Before they could head to the checkout, a woman’s voice called out Veronica’s name.

“Veronica!” the voice rang out, warm and familiar.

Veronica turned around, her face lighting up with recognition. “Walburga!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine delight. She rushed over to the woman and embraced her, the two old friends laughing as they reunited.

The woman, Walburga, had an air of regal elegance about her, with sharp features and piercing eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. Her dark hair was streaked with gray, and she wore rich, deep-colored robes that spoke of old money and pure-blood heritage.

“Indeed, it’s nice to see you again, my dear,” Walburga said, pulling back from the hug to study Veronica’s face. “What brings you to Diagon Alley today?”

“Oh, I’m here with my stepdaughter,” Veronica replied with a proud smile. “She’s going to Hogwarts this year.”

Walburga’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Stepdaughter? I didn’t know you were married.”

“Yes, two years ago,” Veronica responded with a warm tone. “To Francis Morningstar.”

“Francis Morningstar… Yes, I’ve heard of him,” Walburga mused, nodding thoughtfully. “He’s part of the  Council of Magical Law, isn’t he? Great work he’s done. Quite an influential figure.”

Genevieve, who had been standing quietly by Veronica’s side, suddenly felt the weight of Walburga’s gaze upon her. The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly as she took in Genevieve’s appearance, and a faint, almost imperceptible frown creased her brow.

“And this must be your stepdaughter,” Walburga said, her voice cool as she addressed Genevieve directly. “What’s your name, dear?”

Genevieve hesitated for a moment, feeling a bit intimidated by the woman’s piercing gaze. “Genevieve, ma’am. Genevieve Morningstar.”

"Morningstar, is it?" Walburga murmured, her tone unreadable. "And what year will you be starting at Hogwarts, my dear?"

"Fourth year," Genevieve replied politely.

"Well then," Walburga said with a slight nod, "Hogwarts should be an interesting experience for you."

There was something in Walburga’s words that made Genevieve feel uneasy, as if there was an unspoken judgment hidden beneath the surface. But before she could dwell on it further, Walburga turned back to Veronica with a tight smile.

“I must say, it’s good to see you again, Veronica,” Walburga said, her voice returning to its more familiar warmth. “I wish you and your family all the best.”

“Thank you, Walburga,” Veronica replied, her smile unwavering. “And give my regards to Orion and the boys.”

“I will,” Walburga said with a nod, before casting one last glance at Genevieve. Without another word, she turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Genevieve feeling as though a dark cloud had just passed over her.

“Who was that?” Genevieve asked, her curiosity piqued despite the unease she felt.

“That was Walburga Black,” Veronica explained as they made their way to the checkout. “An old friend from my Hogwarts days. She’s the mother of Sirius and Regulus Black—two very different boys, as you’ll likely see for yourself.”

Genevieve’s thoughts immediately went to the boy in black she had seen earlier. “ There was a boy that I saw in the shop and he had on black attire. Was he one of her sons?”

Veronica nodded. “Yes, that would be one of them. Both of them are in Slytherin, like the rest of their family. They’re very proud of their pure-blood heritage.”

Genevieve bit her lip, remembering the boy who ignored her wave. “He didn’t seem very friendly.”

Veronica gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about that, Evie. People are often more complex than they seem at first glance. You’ll meet all sorts at Hogwarts, and not everyone will be an instant friend. But you’ll find your people.”

As they finished their shopping and prepared to head to Platform 9 3/4, Genevieve couldn’t help but think about the encounter with Regulus and his mother. The unease from her dream still lingered at the back of her mind, and she wondered if it was connected to the strange tension she felt now. But she pushed the thoughts aside as they continued walking to the train station platform. When she saw the gleaming red engine of the Hogwarts Express at Platform 9 3/4, surrounded by students and their families saying their goodbyes, the reality of it all hit her like a wave.

"I can't believe this is real," she whispered to herself, feeling both awed and overwhelmed by the scene before her. The hustle and bustle of the platform, with students excitedly chattering and parents fussing over their children, made her heart race with a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

Veronica walked up beside her, spotting Francis up ahead near the train. "Francis!" she called out, her voice bright with affection. The tall man turned around, his face lighting up as he saw them. He was dressed in his usual formal wizarding robes, a look of both pride and concern on his face.

"I was afraid you wouldn’t make it on time," Veronica said as she embraced him warmly.

"Of course I’d make it for my daughter’s departure to Hogwarts," Francis replied, his voice full of fatherly pride. He hugged Veronica back, then turned his attention to Genevieve, who was staring at the train with a furrowed brow, her fingers nervously twisting the strap of her bag.

"My little sunflower," Francis said, his tone gentle as he approached her. "Why the long face? Are you going to miss us that much?" he added with a light chuckle, trying to ease the tension.

Genevieve forced a small smile but couldn’t hide the worry in her eyes. "I don’t know about this, Dad," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "What if I don’t fit in? What if they think I’m weird, like back home? And what if something bad is going to happen?"

Francis knelt down to her level, taking her hands in his. His expression grew serious as he looked into her eyes. "Genevieve, who are you?" he asked firmly, his voice steady.

Genevieve hesitated, her voice barely a whisper as she replied, "I’m Genevieve Morningstar."

"Yes," Francis said, nodding with approval, "and what do Morningstars do?"

She swallowed hard, repeating the words she had heard many times before. "We persevere… and not allow anyone to take our shine because we will always shine the brightest."

"That’s right," Francis said, his voice filled with conviction. "Always remember that, Evie. Don’t let your fears or the opinions of others take away from who you are. You are a kind, smart, loving, and a special person who will do great things, no matter where you are or who you’re with. Do you understand?"

Genevieve looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Yes, I understand," she said, her voice a little stronger now.

Francis smiled warmly, giving her hands a reassuring squeeze before standing up. "Good. Now, go out there and show Hogwarts who Genevieve Morningstar really is."

Genevieve nodded, feeling a surge of determination replace some of her anxiety. She wasn’t alone in this—she had her family’s support, and she knew deep down that she had the strength to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Veronica handed her the last of her belongings, and Apollo leaped gracefully from her shoulder into her arms, purring contentedly. "You’re going to be just fine, Evie," Veronica said, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "We’ll write to you every week."

"Thanks, Veronica," Genevieve replied, her heart swelling with love for both her parents.

As the final boarding call for the Hogwarts Express echoed across the platform, Genevieve took a deep breath and gave her parents one last hug before stepping toward the train. She paused at the door, turning back to wave at them, her nerves settling as she saw their encouraging smiles.

With Apollo tucked safely in her arms and her father’s words of wisdom echoing in her mind, Genevieve stepped onto the train. The world of Hogwarts awaited her, full of mysteries, challenges, and new beginnings. She didn’t know exactly what was in store, but one thing was certain: she was ready to face it, and nothing—not her fears, her dreams, or the whispers of the past—would dim her shine.

*Greeting fellow readers! If you enjoyed my first fanfic chapter, I’d love to hear your thoughts! Leave a comment below to let me know what you liked, and don’t forget to hit that like button! Your feedback means the world to me and keeps me inspired to write more. Thank you for being a part of this journey!

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Whatever She Wants

Author's note: I could've written a late night cravings fic for many of my usual OTPs, but for some reason, I had an Ahmed x f!MC headcanon. Why? I don't know. I don't make the rules here. I just follow my muse's orders. [Original characters are creations of this author. The others are owned by Pixelberry Studios] Book: Passport To Romance Pairing: Ahmed Khabbaz x F!MC (Amanda) Rating: T Word count: 2419 Reading time: ~10min Summary: Ahmed takes his wife out for dinner, but unluckily Amanda is craving something that isn't part of their very healthy diet. Based on the prompt: CFWC Flufftober - day 6: late night craving

Ahmed pulls up a chair to help his wife take a seat and sits across from her on the table. To celebrate their two years of marriage, he took her to Florence to enjoy his three days off work somewhere new. He rarely has time to spare when his team is in the middle of a big tournament, but the coach decided to cut him some slack this time. It's their special day and soon Amanda won't be able to join him in his travels.

Soon, a waiter greets them, hands the menu and waits to take their orders. While he's looking at the appetizer options, Amanda quickly flips through the pages and bites down her lip as her eyes land on a very specific list of options.

"Did you find something you like?"

"You could say that again," she answers without taking her eyes off the menu.

"Let's order it then," he says with a grin.

Her eyes widen for a moment, then she collects herself and flips back a page. "How about zucchini lasagna? You can pick the other dishes."

"Good choice, Mandy!" He then turns to the waiter. "We'll have bruschettas, zucchini lasagna and lemon tarts."

"Very well. I'll be right back with your appetizers, Mr. Khabbaz."

"Thank you." He nods to the waiter and looks back at his wife, who's capturing the sun setting in the horizon of the Arno river with her phone.

"Look at this sunset, everyone! Isn't it breathtaking?" She says holding the phone when she glances at her husband. "By the way, I have to thank Coach Baroni for giving Ahmed three days off, otherwise I'd be having pizza by myself at home."

"At least you'd have pizza. I'd be having some extra healthy and extra boring meals with my teammates to avoid gaining too much weight," he says.

"Ah yes. The hardships of being an athlete..." She jokes.

Ahmed makes a pouting face to the camera and she giggles.

"Alright, lovelies. I'll finish off the livestream and share a few stories of the dishes we ordered later. But now I want a moment with my hubs. Say bye, darling!"

"Bye, everyone!" He waves to her phone.

Amanda puts down the phone and beams. "This is a lovely place, Ahmed. I still can't believe we're here celebrating our anniversary here."

"Me neither. I didn’t think the coach would allow me to be here." He reaches out to touch her left hand and toys with her engagement ring and wedding band. “Two years, huh?”

"I bet you didn't expect that when you rescued me from the Seine."

"Honestly? I was just hoping the pretty tourist would notice my abs after she came to her senses." He winks.

"Show off..." she hides a grin behind her glass of water.

Just then, the waiter returns with their appetizers and orange juice. Once the two of them thank the waiter, Ahmed watches his wife carefully. Amanda takes a bite of the appetizer and hums in approval. He then lifts a bruschetta to his mouth.

“Were you thinking about asking something else if I didn’t eat this one?”

“No…”

She arches an eyebrow.

“Maybe…”

Amanda shakes her head.

“Don’t judge me. I don’t want to eat something that will make you feel nauseous.”

"Which is why you only chose dishes with sour taste," she concludes.

"Yeah. But you can't deny that all of them taste good."

"It's sweet of you to worry about us, but I'm okay. Really. I didn’t feel sick this morning."

"And that’s fantastic, but we still have five weeks to go, Mandy. What if you don't feel well?"

"I'll take the medication and we go home," Amanda replies matter-of-factly. "I know you're concerned, but I'm following all my ob/gyn's orders. We're going to be fine."

"Okay..." He nods and points to her glass of water. "Should we ask for more water?"

"No. We can ask for some juice instead."

"Good idea..." He then fishes out his phone and looks through something.

"You're reading the list of recommended foods for hyperemesis gravidarum again, aren't you?" She arches an eyebrow.

He avoids her gaze as he feels his cheeks heat.

"You're the sweetest, Ahmed." Amanda reaches out to touch his hand. "You're going to be a great father."

"I hope our little one agrees."

"Aw…"

Amanda blows him a kiss and he pretends to catch it and presses his hand to his heart.

The couple continues to share the appetizers when a few of their fans stop by to ask for selfies. They agree to take a few pictures and return to their meal, talking about their plans for the future. When the main course arrives at their table. But as the waiter lifts up the food cover from their plates, Amanda grimaces and covers her mouth.

"Darling?" Ahmed looks at his wife in worry as softly tanned skin goes pale. "Are you going to be sick?"

Amanda glances at her husband and the waiter then stands up. "I'm sorry..." With that, She rushes to the ladies room.

"Excuse me."

"Of course, sir."

A couple of minutes later, Ahmed sits on the couch outside the ladies room and stares at the door. When a woman from the restaurant staff who walked inside to check on Amanda opens the door, he stands up.

"Mrs. Khabbaz is alright, sir. She's just freshening up now."

He sighs in relief.

"Would you like to come inside?"

"Uh... I don't want to intrude..." He rubs the back of his neck. "Is she feeling well enough to come out on her own?"

"I think so."

"I'll wait here then."

"Okay. I'm sure she'll be right out, sir."

"Thank you."

"Of course." The woman is about to leave when she turns back to him. "Since you already paid for dinner, would you like to wrap up the dishes to go?"

"No, thanks."

The woman nods and walks away.

Ahmed sits down again, running a hand on his hair. He knows his wife's condition is mostly under control. Nausea is part of the package and they learned how to handle the situation in case anything happens. Yet, he can't help but be concerned for her well-being.

Just then, Amanda walks out. He immediately stands up again to meet her. He cups her face, studying her. Color returned to her cheeks and she even retouched her makeup. To anyone else, she looks as beautiful as she was when they arrived at the restaurant. But Ahmed knew better than that.

"Hey..." She gives him a weak smile.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired..."

"Did you take the meds?"

"Yeah..."

"Do you want to sit down for a moment?"

"No... I just want to go home."

“Okay.” He kisses her forehead, takes her hand and leads her towards the exit.

Much to his relief, the roads back to Rome are calm by the time they leave. Ahmed drives in silence and glances at Amanda from time to time. Occasionally brushing her hair away from her face, she chews on a nail absentmindedly and looks out the window. He has seen her like this before. She barely can work or travel with him. They have canceled many public appearances that could be beneficial to both of them. Some days she could barely leave their bedroom. She feels like a burden to him. And no matter how many times he says otherwise, she still struggles to believe it.

"Amanda?"

"Mm..."

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah..."

"Are you sure?"

She looks down at her hands.

"Mandy, whatever it is, you can tell me," he says, glancing at her before looking back at the road.

"I'm okay..." She sighs. "I just wish I could skip this part where everything makes me nauseous. I don't want to feel sick from ordering a dish made with good and stinky cheese. I don't want to lose sponsors and viewers because I feel too tired to travel, to write, to live blog and do anything I used to do before I got pregnant. I don't want you to worry about me losing weight or calling all the time to know if I'm drinking enough water." She brushes away a tear. "I'm sorry... I don't want to complain so much."

Ahmed pulls over and takes her hand in his. "Darling, I think you're handling yourself so gracefully through all this ordeal. Your career was affected, your social life was affected and it's all because of a condition you didn't know you had in the first place. But I need you to remember you're not alone in this. I'm with you. That's why I worry."

"Thank you..." She unbuckles her belt and throws her arms around him. "And I know you're with me. I love that you are. I just wish you didn't have to worry so much."

"There's the only thing I can't fix. I love you, therefore I worry. There's nothing I can do about that." He shrugs.

Amanda presses her head on his chest.

"It'll get better. Just five more weeks and you’ll eat any stinky cheese you want, okay?" He jokes.

A small chuckle escapes her lips. "Okay."

The sound of the things falling on the floor wakes Ahmed from slumber. Rubbing a hand on his eye, he picks up his on the nightstand and checks the time and looks to the side of the bed empty. "Right on time as usual, Mandy..." He murmurs to himself with a smile and stands up.

Her late night cravings never really bothered him. He finds it funny how she suddenly wakes up in the middle of the night to eat something very specific. Last week, she craved a very peculiar type of mango, the week before was black beans, and the week before that was ice cubes. Luckily, it was nothing he couldn't pay for or handle until then.

As he approaches the kitchen, he stops by the threshold, crosses his arms and fights back a chuckle as he watches Amanda crouching down before the refrigerator looking for something to eat.

She lets out a frustrated sigh and tries to stand on her own. But before she could lose balance, strong arms wrap around her and help her stand up.

"Thank you..." She looks back over her shoulder with a coy smile.

"No problem, love. Did you find what you're looking for?"

"No, but that's okay. I just have a glass of juice and go back to bed."

"Are you sure? You didn't eat much of the mushroom risotto we ordered for dinner."

She turns around to face him. "I had seconds. How is that not eating much?"

"I don't know... I have a feeling you wanted to eat something else since we arrived at the restaurant in Florence."

Amanda looks down at her hands.

"What are you craving now, Mandy?"

"It doesn't matter..."

"I know you want something," he says, cupping her chin and lifting it just enough so she's looking at him.

"I do, but we don’t have it here."

"It never stopped us before."

“Yeah, but…” She looks away. "I don't know..."

"Mandy, we're in Italy. If there's anywhere in the world we can find good food, it's here."

"You might not like what I want to eat..."

"Then you don't have to share it with me."

She bites down her lip, still unsure.

"Try me."

"Okay... You're right. There was a dish I saw on the menu of the restaurant."

"Hm..." He smiles proudly for recognising her wife's needs without asking. "What is it?"

"Please don't be upset..."

"Why would I be upset?"

"Because it's something we don't eat."

"Darling, you're pregnant. We can make exceptions."

"Can we?" Her eyes sparkle with hope.

"Of course we can! Screw the rabbit food! My wife and child can eat whatever they want. We just have to hope we can find it at twelve in the morning."

Amanda chuckles.

"Out with it, darling. What do you want to eat?"

"Porchetta."

His forehead creases and mind goes blank. Amanda does come from a culture that adds bacon to everything. Even though she told him she wouldn't miss it after she became vegetarian, he figured that her pregnancy might affect her, especially now that they moved to Italy. But of all the things she could wish for, he certainly didn’t expect her to crave pork.

"I know it's haram and I didn't want to ask you this, but you insisted."

He remains in silence.

"I shouldn't have said anything..." She turns around, pours herself a glass of water and closes the refrigerator. "Let's go back to bed."

"No."

"What?"

"I can't let you go back to sleep when you're craving something. What if it's bad for you? Or the baby?"

"I'm sure there's something else I can eat. I probably just have some deficiency in something."

"Which is probably related to not eating red meat."

"Ahmed, we don't have to do this..." She frowns.

"Yes, we do," he says before kissing the top of her head. "Let's get you some pork."

About one hour later, Ahmed sits by the kitchen island smiling as Amanda makes a mess while eating her roast pork sandwich. They both agreed porchetta is a heavy dish to eat in the middle of the night. But she certainly looks pleased with the alternative. With sauce dripping on her chin, she digs in and occasionally drinks her orange juice, humming in delight.

"You look a little saucy, you know," he taunts as he reaches out to clean her chin with a napkin.

"Thank you..." She smiles shyly.

"You're welcome."

"And I'm sorry about this."

"It's no big deal, Mandy."

"Really?"

"Well, you're not Muslim, so you're not committing a sin and Allah protects all unborn children. No harm done here."

"Oh..." She sighs in relief.

"Were you worried about it?"

"A little…” She confesses. “We agreed our baby will learn about Omani culture and Islam, but they're free to decide their religion and lifestyle when they're old enough to do it. But I was concerned if I had to do any purification rituals or say any prayers."

"And you say I’m the sweetest...” He lifts her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. “You're both fine. Don't worry about it."

She smiles, looking visibly relieved.

He fights back a yawn and stands up. "Now we have satisfied your cravings, is there anything else you want?"

"Cuddles."

"Is that all?"

"And maybe watch a movie. You can sleep if you want... I just need you close to me."

"Of course, darling. Whatever you want."

After cleaning up the dishes, the couple goes back to their room. While Amanda sits by the headboard and searches for a movie, Ahmed lies down, leans in to kiss her small bump and rests his head on her lap. He's fast asleep as the movie starts.

"Thank you for everything, darling," she whispers, caressing his hair. "Happy anniversary."

"Mmhmm..." He mumbles.

Giggling, she proceeds to watch her movie in silence.

[forever-your-soldat]

So i just started using tumblr so im still figuring shit out. but if you guys have seen i write for the some fandoms. that list isnt updated, but yeah, im open to requests and suggestions if you want a little story or two

[ernestsinclairs]

Everybody Talks - Ahmed x MC

Ahmed x MC (Sophia)

“I’m sure I’ll see you again. Paris has that effect on people.”

“I guess you know that better than me,” Sophia giggled, hesitating but a moment before laying a hand on the cusp of Ahmed’s cheek. The spring Parisian air was warm enough, heavier so in the hours of the night, but the warmth of his skin still sent a special thrill through her. 

“We’re playing the day after tomorrow on Thursday,” Ahmed started, pausing to think a little before offering her an arm to escort her out. “I’d love to see you there.”

“I’ll see if my editor can find time for it in my schedule,” Sophia said, gratefully taking it. “Of course, I’ll make the time if she doesn’t.”

“I love that about you,” Ahmed chuckled softly as he ushered her into the gilded elevator. “Always determined aren’t you?”

“That’s how I got here.”

“And I’m guessing that’s how you’re going to stay,” was his response. “I can have a VIP box ready for you if you want.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sophia mused. “It would be nice to be able to see you even better. Should I want to?”

“That would make me happy, wouldn’t it?”

The two of them padded through the rich hotel lobby, swerving behind a bellhop’s cart as a small clump of Beverly Hills socialites came veering in their direction, giggling and phones already at the ready. It’d make quite the headlines if the newest soccer legend of Europe was photographed with a just hired photographer from the states. Headlines that she - or at least Yvette - wouldn’t take kindly to just yet.

“This is where I must leave you,” Ahmed said politely, reaching to open the door for her before the doorman could step in. “Of course, it doesn’t mean I want to.”

“I’ll have to fact check that later,” Sophia shot back. “Journalistic integrity after all.”

His laugh rang in the air as Sophia slipped out the hotel entrance, wrapping her scarf tighter around her throat as she looked out for any bystanders. Sighing in relief at the sight of none, she quickly made her way down the rain slick pavement, a few sparrows rustling from their position as she cut through their path. 

If Paris had been confusing when she’d first arrived, then it was ten times so at night. The throngs of American tourists and Chinese traveling parties were long gone, leaving no clueless herd to follow to some landmark. The shops had long since been shuttered, and few cars dotted the Parisian streets to call out for. It would be a long walk home.

But not that she minded. The sound of rain droplets smacking against her heels and pitted pavement faded to the back of her mind as she sucked in her breath, reliving every word of every conversation that night. The taste of sweet strawberries and the delicate layers of mille-feuille settled on her tongue again, accompanied by the tang of spiced takeout that Ahmed had managed to sneak past the team dietician. And of course, the taste of the sweet words that had passed through her lips - and his - that night.

“I’m not going to lie, home is rather far away for me right now,” Ahmed admitted, not meeting her eye for once. 

“But is home not the people? For me, home was always what I made it.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love my teammates,” Ahmed laughed, leaning back into his seat relaxedly. “But if I had to live with them for the rest of my life, one of us is going to have to go.”

“Or maybe home doesn’t need to be with them,” Sophia said softly, testing the waters before jumping right ahead. “Maybe home is with someone else?”

He looked at her then, dark eyes boring into her face, the carefree smile gone and replaced with a sober, thinking look.

“Maybe so.”

The Hotel Bastille loomed up, and Sophia opened the door just a crack, praying the little bell on the door wouldn’t ring so loud. Three in the morning was no way for the concierge staff to wake up, just for one girl returning from a glorious night. It was nobody’s business really.

The thoughts swirled again as she climbed the steps meekly, careful to skip the third step on the second landing. The creak on it had made her a little nervous the first day, and she couldn’t risk a sprained ankle now. Even with the wonders of European healthcare, she doubted it would get her up and walking within the few hours she had.

“Where were you?”

Sophia blinked in the dark, then blinked harder as the light suddenly flooded on, revealing Marisa leaning against the wall, Sumire blinking wearily behind her.

“It’s three in the morning, Sophia,” Marisa pressed, pointing at the room clock as if doing so would change it. “Three in the morning!”

“I know, I know,” Sophia winced. “I know how to read a clock, I passed elementary school.”

“Well apparently not,” the other woman moped. “Even a kindergartener wouldn’t walk home alone at three in the morning.”

“Look, I made it, alright?” she reassured. “I’m safe, there’s not a part of me missing or anything. I think I would know if something happened to me.”

Marisa studied her for a moment as Sumire fell back into bed, pulling the duvet over her head to protect against the light. As soon as she opened her mouth, Sophia promptly switched the light back off.

“Did you do something with someone tonight?” Marisa asked, fumbling her way back to her bunk. “That’s the only thing I can think of.”

“I got lost,” Sophia lied, hiding the rest of the answer in a purposeful mumble as she slid her pajamas on. “Paris is a confusing place, isn’t it?”

“The city’s built on a grid.”

“Well, I may have passed elementary school, but not geometry,” she joked. “Who knows, this probably happens to a lot of people.”

“You didn’t get lost, Sophia. I know that,” Marisa groaned. “Why do you think you can get away with it?”

“Get away with what?”

A tiny point of light flared up as Marisa passed her phone between the beds, a tabloid article from a few minutes ago blown up. 

The new champion’s league? Mysterious woman seen with star player Ahmed . . .”

Sophia threw the phone back, not caring to read the rest of the title. It would all be the same, a few clickbait worthy titles, a blurry photo of her and Ahmed through glass hotel doors, and a few statements from rabid fans. 

“Tell me when Yvette calls in the morning.”

“Your boss? Sophia, these are the tabloids linking you and a pro. I think that’s a little more important than a call from your boss. 

“Trust me, I don’t think she’ll be too happy about this,” she groaned. “I’ll get a lecture on upholding the reputation of the company or whatever. Just tell me when she calls so I won’t get totally blindsided.”

There was a pregnant pause as Marisa prepared to say more, then welcome silence as she decided against it. The rustle of her blankets and a pout visible even through the darkness betrayed her true feelings.

“I’m just saying, you’re on a roll, Sophia,” she murmured as the two of them curled up for the night. “Barely a week later and you’re over here seducing pro players.”

“Not seducing,” Sophia fought back drowsily. “We just talked tonight.”

“Oh sure,” the other girl replied dryly. “Well, I guess we’ll see what the people say tomorrow.”

“Everybody talks,” Sophia mumbled. “Just let them.”

[criitterbug]

Hey question! Do you have any hlvrai fanfic recommendations? I've been starved of fanfics for so long because I read a bunch of em but I'm too afraid to search the ao3 tags to find more and I didn't know if you've read some that I haven't yet! (I'll trade you good ones I read a long time ago that you probably haven't seen (ill just give them too you if you want, no tradesies))

OH MY GOD YES I HAVE SO MANY!!! i don't know your specific tastes so i'll just put my favorites under the cut (do note, most of my favorites are shockingly long, but i'll sprinkle in a few shorter ones) this is future miles from after i typed out the whole thing: holy hell i am so sorry this is a really long fic rec list and it's not even all of the stuff i wanna add in here HAHAHA

make sure to scroll to the end!! my personal favorite is the very last one :]

play again? is 100k words, and it's set in a "hlvrai is a video game" universe!! basically years after gordon pretty much ditches the game, joshua freeman finds it and ends up making his dad grow like a million more grey hairs. it's mostly a gen fic! catch my footing while i follow yours is 10k words, and it's sodashipping centric!! the coolattas are aliens, and darnold's trying to keep his mixology department afloat, so he goes to have a very important meeting with mr. coolatta to present his latest potion!! i don't think falling in love with tommy was on his list of things to do.... after the storm is 6k words! after the rescas, everyone seems to be moving on just fine, and gordon's scared and confused why the aftermath doesn't seem to be affecting anyone as bad as it's affecting him. passport guardian angel is 118k words, and although it's still unfinished and i prefer finished fics, i liked it so much that i think it's worth the read!! when the science team finds themselves wanted by the us military, they all seek refuge in gordon's family's lake house, but what the military has in store is something far beyond their expectations. i see la vie en rose is 27k words and sodashipping centric! tommy thought that dating as an ancient god was pretty much out of the question; then he meets darnold, who throws that belief far away until he can't even see it anymore. on the back of ouroboros is 46k words. it's a bad end for the hlvrai au gordonradiotv! it's a series about what happens if gordon had died back then? i do suggest you check out gordonradiotv before you read this one though! activating co-op is 16k words! it's a post-canon au for mothra's roleswap au, where gordon somehow navigates his way out of his computer and finds out that benrey isn't really the guy who defeated him back at xen. fun shenanigans ensue, as well as clueless alien romance. mr. reality is 35k words, where tommy replaces benrey as the missing link, or the final boss battle, and it displays just how much the science team cares for their soda-loving friend. simulacrum is 19k words, where post-canon, gordon thinks he's finally free from the game's influence, and lets himself relax, even if for a little bit. turns out, it's a little bit harder to escape something that's made up pretty much your whole world. good things is 8k words, boomer centric, which goes into detail about how coomer met bubby in his tube for the first time, and the aftermath that follows. the heart is hard to translate is 36k words, frenrey centric. one day, benrey shows up at gordon's door and passes out which, understandably, sends the latter into a panic. things get a bit more complicated from there. like father, like son is 33k words, another one about joshua! joshua lives a normal life as a 15 year old, and sure, his dad has a good handful of traumas and fears, but they love each other all the same. things get a bit confusing when he has dreams though, with his only company being a man in a suit. carrot soup is 45k words and frenrey centric! god, this one's one of my favorite frenrey series. gordon and benrey are roommates, and gordon tells tommy that he wants to learn more about sweet voice. things get much more sweet from then on, that's for sure. hot dilfs in your area (not clickbait!!1!) is 15k words, frenrey centric! it's an apartment neighbors au where benrey lives with tommy, and there's a new guy who lives next door! a professor at a university, benrey hears. turns out academics can be cute, too, and he is wholly unprepared for this realization. a starry brush of venetian blue is 19k words and frenrey centric again! after black mesa, joshua suggests that gordon take up art as a profession. joshua wonders sometimes if he could make gordon happy by finding the security guard he keeps drawing. at least you're real to me is 359k words, and GOD, it's probably my favorite hlvrai fanfic series ever. literally no doubt in my mind. reality is a difficult thing for the science team, what with everything that happened in the game; but are they truly safe after the game? it starts off with a long boomer prologue and continues with and a wonderful story plot. it's the best.

[sweet-evie]

what’s your headcanons about the duo? recently i’ve rewatched the resurrection movies and cant help build various scenario in my head.

here’s mine though. Sorry it’ll be super long

• Lelouch found that CC’s hand was always cold so he likes to hold it all the time.

• During their early journey, they’ve decided to bought a trailer. But lelouch cant drive, so CC teach him one.

• CC’s were sensitive to cold but too proud to said it. One night, Lelouch realizes that she’s shaking in their tent and silently takes her in his arm

• He hates when CC talks about the mindless state he was. Not because how useless he is, but because it reminds him of how much a pain she suffers for him. It breaks his heart.

• Lelouch found a woman in desperate need of labor at the forest one day. CC’s expertly help her and deliver the baby successfully. That night, he told her that when CC names that baby girl, he felt like wanted to pick her up and told the entire world of how proud he is for having CC in his side.

• He’s blushed like a pig whenever CC’s mention the word ‘bath’ for he knows she’s seen it all.

• Lelouch good at singing, and CC’s could play ukulele. One day, nunnally visits them in their hideout and found the immortal duo lovingly sang a song together while holding each other close.

• They dont says ‘I love you’ to each other, instead lelouch once declared “If i had to choose one to spent eternity with, I’ll choose you. Not because your loyalty but because i knew life wouldnt be so bored with you”

• Lelouch takes various jobs over the years. He started as a writer for many good years to sponsor their endeavors. Then he learns from Jeremiah to farm. A teacher, doctor, programmer.

• Lelouch found it hard to express his affection towards her so he always opted to talk about their fragment endeavors.

• Until they settle down in a secluded house and found himself the pleasure of sex.

• CC secretly dying for lelouch to kiss her. Not like that she cant, she just want him to be the one who initiate it.

• At one point in their life, CC’s longs for a child they could never have. one day, there’s an orphan baby borns in the hospital he works for and he told her they could adopt him.

• Lelouch would never said it but he could start another rebellion for CC.

• Sometimes during the next movie timeline, CC’s were captured and tortured. She doesnt wakes up for several weeks due to they tamper with her code. When she wakes up, CC found Lelouch kills hundred of them to avenge her.

This is a fanfic all on its own. 🤩 You're tempting me to write things or start stuff I shouldn't because there are other stories that need writing. 🤣 Reading and imagining this made me want to cry because I can totally picture everything in my head.

As a fact, most of yours parallel with mine, mainly these:

He hates when CC talks about the mindless state he was. Not because how useless he is, but because it reminds him of how much a pain she suffers for him. It breaks his heart.

Lelouch takes various jobs over the years. He started as a writer for many good years to sponsor their endeavors. Then he learns from Jeremiah to farm. A teacher, doctor, programmer.

CC secretly dying for lelouch to kiss her. Not like that she cant, she just want him to be the one who initiate it.

Post Re;surrection, here's my headcanons 😉

C.C. is the one making the living during the early days of their Geass hunt, mostly because Lelouch needs to stay hidden.

C.C. is the one who reminds Lelouch to call Shirley or at least see her...

They travel mainly by sea or land. No airfares here, considering the nature of airport security.

As well connected to shady people as I think C.C. is, I doubt she has top-level clearance to even sneak into an airport undetected... They could, but it's too much work for their current circumstance and is more trouble than it's worth. One day, they will. But in the beginning of their search, nah.

Lelouch will make sure to procure fake passports, IDs, and everything else.

Wait... On second thought, Lelouch has a Geass. I almost forgot... 🤣 FUCK! I guess they can travel by plane. (I still think it's impractical). But they can only do it if they successfully tie up loose ends along the way.

Lelouch picks up online ghost writing or proofreading as a career once they settle in Switzerland.

All the online money he earns goes to C.C.'s bank account, because he hasn't established a fake one yet.

It bothers him that C.C. is in-charge of their funding.

Lelouch does a financial audit every month. He used to do it bi-weekly, but C.C. told him that over-obsessing about budget is never a good thing.

On a more serious note, I think C.C. cuts back on her pizza eating for the first few years.

C.C. has a subdued personality for the first few months or the first year together with L.L...

Lelouch spends discreet time trying to coax C.C.'s mischievousness out again. He kind'a misses it.

He asks C.C. about his mindless state once in a while, when it's necessary. But he avoids it because he hates how useless he was, and he hates being reminded that he burdened her so.

It takes a while before they end up actually kissing.

They're open to talking about their deep thoughts, but are still a teeny bit hesitant to cross the line to romance. (Even if they're practically married at this point).

They have matching rings. (Not engagement or wedding rings or promise rings. Just matching jewelry -- according to them anyway).

They're fucking married.

Lelouch caught C.C. singing lullabies to him once, because she thought he was falling asleep.

C.C.'s multi-lingual skills will shine.

Lelouch is beginning to think world history on the internet is unreliable. Mostly because of C.C. (That girl is a walking encyclopedia, literally).

C.C. loves surprising Lelouch with random facts about her involvement in some events during history. She does it at the most random times, but mostly when they're on a Geass hunt.

They mouth "I love you" once in a while. They don't say it out loud. Just mouth it... 😍🥰

Hugging... Lots of hugging.

Lelouch eventually replaces Cheese-kun. 👏 It's his greatest achievement yet.

Lelouch and C.C. will cease to exist one day. Especially when all those spare body parts from C's World run out, because Lelouch broke that place. (CG creators, please explain the lore behind the Code and the Geass).

[crewman-penelope]

The breath of chaos

Fandom: James Bond

Chapters : 29 of 43

Characters : James Bond, M, Q, Nomi, R (OFC Character) Safin, OMC Character(s)

Relationship : James Bond / OFC Character, Safin/OFC Character

Warning : Lemon, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome , Dom!Safin, probably non-con, Mary Sue Alert!

Rating : MA

Gene: Crime / Romance

Summary : A simple task and a summer boat ride went terrible wrong. Bond lost Q's favourite assistent and Safin found her...

Note : The rights for the Bond Books and the movies lays by Eon production!

This fanfic is for entertaining purpose only and to read for free.

English is not the writer's first language!

First try to write a bond fanfic, because dang! Finally a sexy bond villain. Or is that just me? Also shameless Mary Sue alert!

———

29. Teaming up

Nomi gave Bond her briefing on their way down to the Weapon's Quarters. Bond listened to her fascinating report but, he became increasingly worried by the information about Obrucher.

This man's work in false hands - and their looks - could end catastrophically.

"... So I got the confirmation that Dr. Obrucher was forced last year to work with Luc Dupont."

"Forced how?"

"He has family."

Of course. The weakest point. Bond remembered the pale King and his deadly affection for his daughter. Bond instantly shoved the thought of Madeline aside. He felt blessed that he did not run into her these days.

Mainly because he could still not look her in the eyes. He was a disappointment to her and Bond knew she was right.

The lift stopped and Bond gestured to the door to let Nomi go first.

The Vault was empty besides a Tech and Q.

The Quartermaster looked up with a tired but excited glance. To Bond, he looked like a man who had had too little sleep for the last three weeks, but was keen to not show his exhaustion.

"Double O's!", he greeted them with an awful fake smile. He rose from his chair and walked to a high table. "I have everything prepared for you both." He waved his hand over the envelopes and the gun boxes in front of him.

"Passports, a special allowance from the SOA for the weapons - the usual - the tickets for Split and further meeting instructions for the Croatian linkman."

Bond took his items without a comment, as did Nomi.

"Ah, yes. And a special task for you..", Q told Bond and turned erratically to his desk to hand him a small, black envelope off of it.

Bond looked at it. His first two kills had come in this kind of envelope. That seemed like ages ago. Suddenly Bond felt very old. He glanced at Nomi, who acted as if she was not even the tiniest bit curious. Then he slit open the envelope with the nail of his thumb.

‘Horvat’

The name of the linkman, who works in the travel agency. That was enough for Bond. No tranquilizers this time.

He got a Zipper lighter out of his pocket and held the flame to the note. Forgetting the people around him he watched the flames eating the small piece of paper, until it burned his fingertips. Then he let the remnants fall on the ground to step on them.

"Can we?", Nomi asked impatiently.

"In a minute, DOUBLE O6.", Bond answered and waved Q over to him. Grabbing his arm, Bond took him to a corner of the office.

"A bit of advice, Q; Feel free to hate me. I am absolutely aware of my mistake, but, I cannot promise that this will end well. Quite the contrary. I do not think I will get R out alive. And if I do, she will definitely no longer be the woman you knew. DON'T hold your hopes high. Always expect the worst."

Bond was instantly sure he had made a mistake to speak so plainly. Q, who looked like an abused cocker spaniel, glanced up at him.

"I am sorry. I really am."

"Bond?"

"Yes, Q?"

"Get your arse out of here."

Bond nodded sharply and turned to the lift. Nomi rushed after him. "What was that?"

"Man talk."

[cordonia-continued]

In The Shadows

Book: The Royal Romance 1 & 2. Bastien’s story.

Pairings: Bastien. Liam x MC (Riley Taylor)

Warnings: slight swearing, slight angst

A/N: I thought it would be nice to see things from Bastien’s POV. Any similarities to anything else out there is unintentional and is purely coincidental. I fell in love with the TRR series late and have only just got into it. I felt that some of the chapters just needed a bit more - it goes along with my previous fanfic where Riley went back to New York briefly after the coronation ball.

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Apologies in advance for any typos, grammar or spelling errors.

Chapter 3

The night of the Coronation Ball dawned and Bastien was once again in the shadows watching the festivities around him when he saw Liam lead Lady Riley into the maze. His heart constricted at the sight, he had been around Liam enough to know what his plans were for this evening, he had watched the young prince’s love for Lady Riley grow. Against his better judgement he had arranged the secret meetings they shared, made sure they weren’t disturbed.

He watched from afar as they emerged, laughing, kissing, straightening their clothes as they went back into the ballroom casting shy glances at each other. He closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face, Bastien knew that even if The King had known that his son had just declared his love for Riley he wouldn’t have cared. He was set on destroying the young prince’s life before it had properly begun.

And then it happened, just as Liam was about to choose her, the timing couldn’t have been any worse for her or any better for Constantine. Bastien closed his eyes, unable to face what he’d done as the beeps and buzzes of the phones rang out around the ballroom. Shame crept over him as he led Riley out of the room, his face flushed crimson and he cringed at the scene playing out in front of him. She pulled back from his grip and screamed for Drake; he had to be honest with himself hadn’t expected that, they must have got closer than he realised. He led her to the security office, apologising as he did so, none of this was her fault. He knew he had to act fast, the King was keeping Liam occupied until Bastien could get her out of the palace and away to the airport. He had arranged it so her bags were packed by the time she was allowed back to her room to change. The palace guards had taken her passport from her, but little did she know that flights had been booked long ago, a plane was strategically scheduled to take off after the news had broken.

He bundled her and her belongings into a waiting unmarked car, and that was it. She was gone. Bastien left the palace, he couldn’t handle the questions, the accusations flying around. He found a bar on the outskirts of the city and ordered a neat whiskey. He felt he deserved a night off for a change, he’s given his life up for that family, been constantly at their beck and call. He knew that Liam didn’t believe a word of the Tariq scandal, he could see it in his eyes. No doubt Drake had already told him about what happened that night. It was obvious to everyone that Riley would never cheat on Liam, well not with Tariq anyway. Now Drake, that was something that Bastien kept turning over in his mind, the way she called his name when she was being led out, the way Drake was there to save her that night from Tariq. It was clear to him from the coy looks that Drake was also in love with the American, that much was evident, but had he missed something between the two of them? Did she feel the same way about Drake? Bastien shook his head, no, he’d seen the way she looked at Liam surely she wasn’t leading Drake on as well...would she?

His phone lights up with yet another message, he ignores it like all the others he’s received tonight. After a few minutes it starts vibrating on the bar in front of him, he picks it up and looks at the caller ID. Drake. He hits the decline button and puts it back face down on the bar. He would love to switch it off but he daren’t, even on his night off he’s never truly off the clock. It buzzes again. He picks it up. Drake. Oh for fucks sake give up he thinks as once again he hits decline. It buzzes for a third time and this time he gives in and answers it.

‘What?’ He’s not in the mood for pleasantries.

‘What the fuck was all that about Bas?’ Drakes voice is loud and shrill. Bastien takes another sip of his whiskey. ‘I think it was quite evident what all that was about Drake.’

‘Where are you Bas? I’m at your office but you’re not here, you need to help us sort this out.’

‘I don’t take orders from you Drake.’ Bastien’s mood is making him cranky with his young friend.

‘What? Bastien what’s the matter with you? And where are you? Are you with her? Let me speak to her.’

‘No.’

‘Bastien, please.’ Drake begs.

‘Drake listen to me, you need to step away from this. Whatever it is that you’re thinking of doing. Don’t.’ Bastien’s tone was firm.

‘What the fuck Bas? You can’t seriously believe she’s done anything? I told you what happened that night, I was there. You said you’d step up security, check the room locks. Remember?’

‘Drake, it doesn’t matter what I believe. What’s done is done. I can’t do anything to change it. Go home, you can’t do anything either.’

‘I’m sure as hell gonna try Bas. I’m gonna go after her. Where is she? Was she sent back to the US? Back to New York? What flight is she on?’

Bastien remains silent, he rubs his forehead with his hand.

‘Bastien?’

‘Drake, please I’m asking you as a friend, go home, leave her. It’s for the best. This is bigger than you can know.’

‘How can it be for the best? She didn’t do anything. Liam knows that, so do I, and so will everyone else when she makes a statement, I can vouch for her.’

Bastien lets out a long sigh. ‘And who are they going to believe? Two commoners or a court full of nobles?’ He knows his words will sting Drake, he’s always had a chip on his shoulder about not being a noble. ‘They’ll think you’re just siding with her, without proof they won’t believe you.’

‘Nah fuck that shit, I’m going to go get her, she’s been sent back to New York hasn’t she?’ He can tell by Drakes voice that he’s angry and knowing him as he does he knows Drake’s prone to acting rashly when he’s angry.

‘Drake, please’

‘Bastien just tell me!’ Drake shouts

‘Yes’ Bastien feels like a brick has been dropped in his stomach, he knew this was going to end badly. He expected that it would be her fighting against being deported, demanding to speak to The King, causing hell until they let her go. But word from the men at the airport was that she went willingly in the end, resigned to her fate. They told Bastien that she sat sobbing, that even the Beaumont’s couldn’t convince her to stay. He can’t imagine Riley Taylor crying, Liam choosing Madeleine must have broken her heart. He knows there’s no stopping Drake when he’s set his mind to something, the lad would row a boat to the States if he had to.

‘Do not, I repeat, DO NOT let Liam get on that plane. Do you hear me Drake? He can’t leave, he CANNOT be seen to be going after her. Is that clear?’ Bastien demands.

‘Crystal’ with that Drake hangs up. Bastien rubs a hand over his face and downs his drink, ordering another one.

She came back with Drake. She’s got guts he’ll give her that. She’s been staying back at the Beaumont’s estate again. Constantine was pissed when he found out. He told Bastien that maybe he should have got rid of her after all.

Maybe it’s just to ease his conscience but Bastien is glad she’s back, she deserves a chance to clear her name, he hopes she’ll manage it, he’s only sorry he can’t help her. Even though he now serves King Liam, Bastien can’t disclose his previous duties to King Constantine. He assumes Drake has told Liam she’s back, but if he has then Liam hasn’t mentioned it. The poor King looks so dejected all the time, he puts on a front for the staff, the politicians and press, but Bastien sees behind the mask. Since the coronation Bastien has been reassigned to Liam’s personal protection, he’s tried to keep a distance so far, he can’t look the new king in the eye, he swears his betrayal is written all over his face. He’s not keen on Liam’s new fiancé either, she’s demanding and rude to the staff, considering all the schooling some of these nobles have had they haven’t been taught manners. Luckily she’s not at the palace often, however the engagement tour is going to test Bastien’s patience he can tell.

As the night of the engagement party draws closer Bastien has heard from his sources that Riley will be there. He’s still yet to figure out if Liam knows, from the way The King has been acting he doesn’t think he’s aware, it wouldn’t surprise him if that stupid Beaumont boy is planning some kind of surprise reunion, risky he thinks to himself making a mental note to keep an eye out for any confrontations and to make sure he diffuses them before they happen.

Bastien watches from the door as Lady Riley and Lord Beaumont greet Countess Madeleine, her smile is sly and snide, even though he can’t hear what she says from his position he’s sure it’s condescending. He tenses as he sees The King walk over to the the trio, he’s primed ready to step in if Riley so much as raises her voice to The King. It’s then that he’s convinced that Liam didn’t know Riley would be here tonight, it’s the first time he’s seen a genuine smile on his face since his coronation, however brief it was.

Thankfully the party goes smoothly, that is until Liam foolishly orders two dozen roses to be sent to the American’s room. He needs to let it go Bastien thinks, The King Father will be furious if he finds out, even though it’s not his problem anymore he’s sure Constantine will make it his problem.

Bastien doesn’t know how he did it but somehow Liam has arranged for her to meet him on his balcony, he knows it wasn’t via phone call or text that’s for sure. He pretends he doesn’t notice her scurrying around the grounds after the party, puts a call out on his radio for his men to hold off, reassigns them to the front of the house, tells them he’ll deal with it. Liam doesn’t need an audience for this. He can’t help but smile to himself as he watches her scramble over the railings of the Kings balcony, barefoot and shivering in her little blue dress. Liam’s not a fool, he must have known there would be security watching his room, he must have had faith that Bastien wouldn’t intervene. He hopes that Liam will end it here tonight and tell her to leave, but he knows the young king too well, no way is he letting her go without a fight. This whole situation is becoming way too complicated, he should have known she would come back. Bastien radios the guard assigned to Madeleine’s room, tells him to make sure he reports any activity directly to him, the last thing he needs is for her to show up and cause a scene.

He keeps a distance as the couple argue, she’s very clearly upset but she’s not crying. Bastien’s got to admire her strength, not too many girls would be able to keep control in a situation like this. His heart sinks as they kiss, even though she eventually pushes Liam away. He knew this would happen, they’re like a fucking real life Romeo and Juliette now he thinks, and he remembers how that ended for the star crossed lovers.

Liam comes to Bastien’s office a few days later, he enters the small room closing the door behind him.

‘Your Majesty.’ Bastien rises from his desk bowing to The King ‘I would have come to your office if I had known you wanted a meeting.’

‘It’s quite alright Bastien, I need your help on the Tariq situation and I thought it a discussion better placed here.’ Bastien’s stomach drops, he had been dreading this day.

‘My help Your Majesty?’ Bastien plays dumb. ‘Yes Bastien, please use your contacts to track down Tariq so we can confront him about what happened that night, find out why he was in Lady Riley’s room, I need to help her with this, it’s because of me she’s in this situation.’

‘Are you sure Your Majesty?’ Bastien questions, this is not something he wants to be doing.

The King looks at Bastien in confusion ‘Of course I’m sure, why would I not be sure?’

Bastien weighs up his options here, he was told by Constantine to get rid of Riley but he no longer serves Constantine. He could pretend to look into Tariqs whereabouts, or maybe just delay looking into it until after The Kings wedding to Countess Madeleine to keep The King Father happy.

‘It’s just...excuse me if I am speaking out of turn Your Majesty, but you are engaged to another woman. I’m not sure that getting involved in a scandal concerning a past suitor will give the right impression.’

Liam creases his brow at his security guard ‘Bastien Lady Riley deserves the chance to clear her name. Finding Tariq will provide that opportunity. We must do all we can to help her. But alas you are right, Countess Madeleine must not know of this. Please avoid discussing the matter in her vicinity.’

Bastien hesitates for a moment then walks over to his locked filing cabinet, pulling the key out of his pocket he takes the file marked Riley Taylor from the draw and hesitantly hands it to Liam.

‘What’s this?’ Noticing the name on the front of the file Liam swallows. ‘Why are you giving me this?’

‘Just read it Your Majesty and then come and see me tomorrow If you still want me to find Tariq.’

The Kings face turns crimson, the lines of his forehead crease once again. He grabs the file from Bastien’s outstretched hand.

The Kings voice raises in indignation ‘If you think anything in this file will change my mind Bastien then you don’t know me very well, I want Lady Riley to clear her name regardless of what her background is, I don’t care where she’s come from, I’m not interested in her past! Do what you can to find that man.’

The King turns on his heel and marches out of the office and down the hallway. However passionate his protests were Bastien notices that he took the file on Riley Taylor with him.

[2wnikiangel]

Týden v Paříži / A Week in Paris

Kapitola 1 / Chapter 1

Fandom: Les Misérables/Bídníci Lengt: Chaptered Chapter: 1 / 8 Ranting: T (Teen and Up Audience) Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Parning(s): Enjolras/Grantaire, past - Grantaire/Montparnasse Character(s): Enjolras, Grantaire, Joly, Jean “Jehan” Prouvaire, Montparnasse Tag(s): Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Frienship, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Slow Romance, First Kiss, First Time, Light Angst, Enjolras Has Feelings, Sad Grantaire, Fluff, Smut in chapter 7

“Grantaire dal Montparnassovi jako dárek k narozeninám společnou, týdenní dovolenou v Paříži. Před tím než stačili odletět, se ale rozešli a Grantaire odmítá letět, dle jeho slov, na to nejromantičtější místo na Zemi, sám. Do příběhu vchází Enjolras.” xxx “Grantaire gave Montparnasse tickets for a week holiday in Paris as a present for his birthday. But before they could fly to France, they broke up, and Grantaire refuses, in his own words, go to the most romantic place on Earth alone. Enjolras enters the story.“

Ukázka z první kapitoly / Preview from chapter 1:

„Co to dělám?“ zašeptal si pro sebe, jako kdyby snad doufal, že mu někdo odpoví. Sklopil hlavu. Začal se za své chování stydět. Tohle neudělá dospělý, vyrovnaný muž, ale pubertální dívka, která byla odmítnuta svým idolem. Grantaire nasucho polkl a podíval se na hromadu věcí, které tam pohodil. Vzal do ruky pas a otevřel ho na založeném místě. Vzal obě letenky do ruky a díval se na vyrytá jména rezervovaných míst. Christiane Grantaire. Henri Montparnasse. V očích ho začaly pálit slzy. „Takhle to být nemělo,“ zašeptal si pro sebe. xxx “What am I doing?” He whispered to himself, as if he hoped someone would answer him. He lowered his head. He was ashamed of his behavior. This is not done by an adult man, but by a teenage girl who has been rejected by her idol. Grantaire swallowed dry and looked at the pile of things he tossed there. He picked up his passport and opened it in a seated place. He picked up both tickets and looked at the engraved names of the reserved seats. Christiane Grantaire. Henri Montparnasse. Tears began to burn in his eyes. “It shouldn’t be like that,” he whispered to himself.

Read online on AO3 in [czech original] or [english translation]

A/N CZ: Dáváte si novoroční předsevzetí? Já ano. Začala jsem s tím už ve svých dvanácti letech a za tu dobu, se většina předsevzetí hodně změnila. Stala se realističtějšími. Jako první bod roku 2020 mám napsané - Vydat každý měsíc alespoň jednu povídku. Máme skoro konec ledna a já? Povídku jsem sice napsala, ale ještě jsem nebyla schopna ji pořádně zkontrolovat a přeložit do angličtiny. Takže u mě na chvíli zavládla panika, než mi došlo, že mám rozepsanou první kapitolovku, kterou jsem ještě neuveřejnila (možná proto, že mám napsané teprve čtyři kapitoly z osmi, ale pst!). Tak ji tu máme! Přeji příjemné čtení.

A/N ENG: Do you have a New Year's resolution? I do. I started this at the age of twelve, and since then, most resolutions have changed a lot. It has become more realistic. As the main point of 2020 I have written - To publish at least one fanfic every month. We have almost the end of January and I? Although I wrote the one E/R fanfic, I wasn't able to check it properly and translated it into English. So I panicked for a while before I realized I had chaptered fanfic that I hadn't published yet (maybe because I only wrote four chapters out of eight, but shhh!). So here we are! I wish you a pleasant reading.

[bennyboyjones]

THE GETAWAY (Ben Hardy FanFic) Chapter One

A/N: Hi! So, here is chapter one to my Ben Hardy  AU Fanfic! There are currently several chapters written, which you can find on Wattpad, but I’ve decided to also upload it here as well. It might be a bit behind, but you’ll still get all the chaps eventually.

What it is: basically, a girl from a small town who is bored of her life decides to take a trip to Nice where she runs into ben, who is also running away from some shit and some romance ensues.

Word count: 3.0k

in this chapter: she takes off bby

WATTPAD LINK IF YOU WANT TO READ AHEAD

Spotify playlist

In case you missed it: prologue

here we go:

chapter one

Tonight was my last night at work; I had been working doubles all week, trying to make as much money as I could to build up my almost non-existent cushion. Between what I had in my savings and my bonds, I had almost $10,000, but then I went shopping and was now sitting at about $8,000, which after the cost of everything, wasn’t much. 

I was in the middle of putting in order an for an older couple when Katie, one of my coworkers, came barreling into the service station. 

“I still cannot believe you’re going to France! Again! Meanwhile, I’m stuck here, seven months pregnant, having never been anywhere!” She threw her hands up and her blond hair flew around her small face. She was older, and shorter, married to her first boyfriend and in the middle of her nursing degree. Whenever I talked about where I’ve been, she always looked at me with amazement, telling me how lucky I was, how she could only dream of traveling anywhere. I always had to remind her that she could and that she should, but she always shook her head as if it would never be an option. “Are you all packed?”

I cringed, “No; I’m not prepared at all, actually. Three weeks goes by a lot quicker than I thought it would.”

“Well, you’re out of here in less than an hour. You better go straight home and get your shit together.” She patted me on the back before nudging me over to gain access to the small touch screen where we put in the orders. 

I looked at the floor from our little alcove; for a Sunday, we were pretty packed. There was only one table left open when half of the restaurant was usually empty at this time. I surveyed my section: an old couple, a group of twenty-somethings, a family of six, a couple of teenagers, and one sole older woman. They were all almost ready for their checks, and I silently prayed that they were all feeling generous—and that they all carried cash. I decided it was time to turn on the charm; I flipped my head over, fixed my long brown hair into a high pony-tail, making sure my curtain bangs weren’t swept up, retouched my light pink lipstick and shoved a smile on my face. I was about to walk back out into the dimly lit dining room when Katie grabbed my arm. 

“I just want to let you know that I told all of them you’re leaving for a big trip tomorrow and wouldn’t be working for a while. You know, trying to let them know you’re poor and could use the money,” she laughed. 

I shook my head and smiled, “I hope it worked.”

****

Katie did a great job. I walked into the house, counting my tips for the third time to make sure the number was right. I made way more than I expected to and added it to the envelope of cash I needed to deposit into my bank account before heading to the airport tomorrow. I ordered euros and also notified my bank I was traveling abroad, making sure I was covered on both fronts. I called a quick “hello” to my mom and my two brothers who were sat on the couch watching Food Network and ran up the stairs, very aware that it was already 10pm and I needed to leave for the airport at 10am, so I would have time to run the errands I needed to beforehand. 

After taking a quick shower, I sat myself down on my bedroom floor, piles of clothes around me and two empty suitcases on my bed. I had already collected my toiletries, shoved them into two ziplock bags and then inside a fabric toiletry bag to ensure zero leakage, right after getting out of the shower because I was terrified of forgetting something. I made an extremely thorough list of every outfit, every bathing suit, every pair of underwear, every book (yes, book), every piece of makeup, and the two notebooks and five specific pens I would be taking with me. Again, making sure I didn’t forget anything. I packed it all one by one, drawing a line through it on my list in red ink until everything was away and ready to go. I was sweating—my cheeks were flush, my heart racing, and slightly out of breath from running around my room lugging items back and forth. 

I was laid out, spread-eagle, on my bedroom floor, watching my ceiling fan spin around and around when my mom came in and leaned against the doorway. “I see you’re all packed up and ready to go.” 

“I think so. I hope so. I don’t know, I feel like I’m forgetting something.” I sat up and leaned back on my hands, my head turned around to face her. 

She tossed me a bag of five disposable cameras, “These. Don’t take your big camera. It’s too heavy and you already almost lost it once in London. That thing is an antique, best to leave it here.” She nodded towards my grandpa’s old Nikon film camera from the ‘80s. He gave it to me right before I left for London and had almost every picture I took there with it hung up on his walls. 

I tossed them into my second suitcase that was still half empty before getting up. I wrung my hands together in front of me and pulled at the strings of my hoodie, “I’m kind of nervous.” 

My mom came further into my room before putting her hands on my shoulders. “Look at me,” her brown eyes looked directly into mine, our faces almost identical, “You’ve done this before. You’re going to be fine. You can always call, or come home.” She laughed lightly before dropping her hands, “Do you need me to keep going? Because you’ve heard this speech before.”

“No, I’m good.” I pulled on my pony tail to tighten it and rubbed at my eyes with the heels of my palms. “Ugh, I don’t know why I’m so stressed out! It’s ridiculous!” 

“You know what you’re dad would say—“

“It doesn’t matter what he would say.” I cut her off and dropped my hands to my sides. “He’s not here.”

“Josie, we need—“

“You’re right, mom. I’ve done this before—successfully. I was fine the first time around, and that was for six months. Three weeks is nothing. Thank you for the pep talk, I needed it.” 

She grabbed at my hair, twirling the thick ponytail around her fingers, “You’re going to have an amazing time.”

“I know,” I sighed and pulled her into a hug, trying to fight off tears without sniffling. 

“I love you.” 

“Love you more.”

This morning was not going well—at all. First, I woke up to a phone call from Liam, my on and off again boyfriend of two long years. He was angry that I didn’t tell him about my trip and felt he was entitled to know of my whereabouts despite the fact that we were currently “off” and have been for the past two months. 

“Don’t go, Josie.” He pleaded. 

“I’m going. I’m literally leaving for the airport in an hour. How did you even know I was going?”

“The last time you did something like this you broke up with me.”

“Tried to,” I corrected him, “but you wouldn’t let me.”

“And now you’re going to go back to Europe and try to do it again! You’re going to hurt me again, just when I was ready to get back together!” 

I let out an irritated sigh, “Liam, I’m not doing this again. I’m not doing this anymore. I’ve been completely fine the last few weeks without you and I don’t need you. I’m going and I need you to leave me alone.” I ended the call as he began to reply. I couldn’t deal with him right now and I wasn’t going to let him ruin another trip for me. 

We met in my gen. ed. philosophy class sophomore year and have had a stressful relationship ever since. We pretty much broke up every summer and every break, making it more of a relationship of convenience and comfort. I figured that when I was leaving for my exchange program last year that we would break up, but when I tried to talk to him about it he broke down crying about how I was the love of his life and he didn’t want to be apart while I was away and I caved. I tried again halfway through my time there, but he guilted me into staying; he said it wasn’t fair to break up with someone who you haven’t seen in months, and how could I know I didn’t love him anymore when we had been apart for so long. 

When I came home, I was so adamant about ending it, but then dad was gone and I needed the familiarity, the easiness, the comfort again and now we were stuck in our old cycle that I needed to desperately get away from. 

Second, I got another rejection e-mail from another publishing company—granted this rejection came a month late since internships had already started and I knew I was obviously not getting a spot, but it didn’t mean I didn’t feel the blow to my ego. 

I didn’t regret my choice of becoming a writing major—at all—it’s what made me happy and it also came with so many career choices; I chose to be an editor, or was trying to anyway, but publishing is competitive and I had zero connections, so every spring, summer, fall, and winter, all I got were rejections and I was growing tired of the disappointment. 

But I was leaving today and couldn’t let anything get me down—I just couldn’t. After I showered and threw on a white t-shirt and a pair of blue straight leg jeans, I started getting last minute items in order: my carryon, with emergency clothes (my luggage has gone missing before), my notebook, my camera, headphones, locket, passport, phone charger, etc. Once everything was completely packed, I sat on my bedroom floor, knees pulled up to my chest and simply stared at the pile of luggage before me. 

I was overwhelmed; I could feel the knot in my stomach twisting, the dryness in my throat, and the tears that were locked behind my eyes. For the past three weeks, this trip seemed so abstract, so far away it couldn’t be real—but now I had no choice but to acknowledge how very real it was. 

As I put on my tan blazer, my white sneakers, packed my stuff into the car with my mom, went to the bank,  and drove to the airport, my brother’s asking me loads of questions from the backseat, all I could think was that I would be fine. I had to keep reminding myself that I’ve done this before, that I could handle myself and that I knew what I was doing. By time we made it to JFK, I felt so stupid; I was making such a big deal over nothing. It was just a trip—but my anxiety would not let up. 

“I know that look on your face,” my mom said as we stood in front of security. “You need to stop with the stress. You’re going to ruin this for yourself.”

“Yeah,” I let out a breath it felt like I’d been holding since I woke up this morning, “I know.” I looked at the time. “I think I need to go.”

My mom pulled me into a hug and kissed me on the cheek before giving me one last secret pep talk and telling me she loved me. I hugged Noah and ignored his comments about the contagious promiscuity of the French. My youngest brother, Oliver hugged me the tightest, “Be careful, okay? You’re the only sister I have so don’t do anything stupid while you’re over there.” 

“It’s just three weeks, it’ll be like I never even left.”

“That’s three weeks of torture from Noah without you there to back me up! I might not even be alive by time you get back!” 

I laughed lightly and pulled him in for another hug. Despite the six year age difference, we were extremely close and I knew I would miss him the most during my trip. After saying goodbye for a second time, I got on line for security. 

It didn’t take too long to get through; for once, my carryon didn’t need to be rifled through because I actually packed correctly this time around and my gate was only a few minutes walk away. I took a seat close to the podium so I could hear every announcement clearly and pulled out my phone and started replying to texts from my friends telling me to have a great time. 

Despite spending a lot of time in the city, I spent a lot of time alone. Between classes, homework, and working I didn’t have a lot of time for a social life, but I did have one—a small one, but it still counted. I only had a few friends and I was fine with that, I didn’t need a big group—the only problem was two of my friends lived in the city permanently, two lived out of state and my best friend from home went to school way upstate, like twenty minutes away from Canada upstate, so we didn’t see each other often. 

After replying, I pulled up both of my boarding passes on my phone. I had layover in London and kept reading over the time in between flights, worried if my first one got delayed, worried if they were on opposite sides of the airport. There was always so much that could go wrong. What if I somehow went to the wrong gate? What if my gate was changed and I missed it? Inside, I knew I was too much of a control freak and worry-wart to allow any of these things to happen, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t obsessively think about them and give myself a headache. 

Finally, my flight started boarding and thankfully, I was in the first group. I found my aisle seat and plopped down after placing my duffel bag in the overhead bin and tossing my purse under the seat in front of me. After another thirty minutes of everyone getting on, having to get up twice to let the other people in my row in (thankfully no children, just a middle-aged couple), we were finally ready to take off. I popped some gum into my mouth, pulled my seat belt tighter and leaned back hoping I wouldn’t get the rollercoaster feeling in my stomach that often happened during take-offs. 

The seven hours to London was easy, it was the layover that was tough. Three hours of sitting around waiting for my second flight, exhausted and just wanting to be there already. It’s crazy how easily a long layover can break a person. I called my mom, letting her know my first flight was a success and then tried to text my friends but they were all out partying despite it being a Monday. I ended up settling for finishing my book, which wasn’t necessarily travel material—it was slightly dark and deep, as a Morrison usually is. 

By time my final flight was called, I was over the entire ordeal and in an awful mood. I was waiting for my group to be called when some guy tapped me on the shoulder, “Please tell me this is the flight to Nice.” He was American, looked around my age, early twenties, with brown hair and green eyes. He was tall and slim and so out of breath. I nodded. “Thank god,” he said, “my first flight was delayed. I was worried I missed it.”

“Well, you didn’t.” 

“You’re American!” he smiled and pointed a finger at me. 

“Yes, you’re very observant.” The last group was called and I went to get on line, the guy trailing behind me. 

“I’m Eric,” he said while holding his hand out for a shake, “I’m going to visit family.”

I stared at his outstretched hand before deciding it wouldn’t kill me to be polite, “That’s nice. I’m Josie.”

I turned away and handed both my passport and my phone to the attendant before making my way through the jetway. My seat was all the way at the back of the plane and so there was a lot of stopping and waiting for people to situate themselves before I could take my, yet again, aisle seat. I leaned forward with my head in my hands and started rubbing my temples. It was 8:30 am London time, meaning my body should be asleep. All I needed was these next two hours for a power nap, that’s all, because I refused to spend my first day in Nice unconscious. 

“Wow, what are the odds!” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumbled under my breath without looking up. 

“You’re an aisle-seater too, huh? I can’t sit in any other seat. It gets too cramped and I have long legs so I need the aisle space.”

They announced we would be getting ready to take-off and I noticed that no one had sat next to me and took the opportunity to slide over, putting as much distance between me and enthusiastic Eric as I possibly could. 

I tried to sleep, I really did, but every few minutes, just as I was about to finally doze off, Eric would ask another question: “Where are you staying?” “What brings you to Nice?” “Are you alone?” “Where are you from?” My only response was that I didn’t feel comfortable sharing that kind of information with a stranger but he wouldn’t take the hint. Instead, he took my non-interest as an opportunity to ask for my contact information so we could possibly “grab a coffee or a bite or whatever”. I told him that I didn’t give my information out to strangers again and so he carefully wrote his number and instagram handle out on a paper napkin and held it out to me. 

I took it, unenthusiastically and politely smiled. I shoved it into my purse just as the flight attendant announced we were getting ready to land. A few short moments later, her voice rang out over the loud speaker, “Welcome to Nice!”

[imogenwescott]

Even though I have my blog in desktop mode I still want to have a navigation page in case that anyone would like to see any specific content from my blog so here it is

Book tags

Choices (for posts either about many books or just general stuff about the app)

A Courtesan Of Rome + tag for Marc Antony

Across The Void

America’s Most Eligible + tag for Slater

A Very Scandalous Proposal

Baby Bump

Bachelorette Party

Big Sky Country

Blades of Light and Shadow + tag for Aerin

Bloodbound (includes Dark Solstice) + tag for Jax, Gaius and…..Dracula -_-

Desire & Decorum (includes First Winter)

Distant Shores

Endless Summer + tag for Jake and Estela

Hero

High School Story (includes Class Act) + tag for Michael and Ajay

Home For The Holidays

Hot Couture

It Lives Beneath

It Lives In The Woods

#Lovehacks

Most Wanted

Mother Of The Year + tag for Levi

My Two First Loves

Nightbound

Open Heart + tag for Ethan

Passport To Romance

Perfect Match + tag for Damien

Platinum

Queen B + tag for Zoey

Red Carpet Diaries + tag for Seth

Ride Or Die + tag for Logan

Rules Of Engagement

Save The Date + tag for Justin

Sunkissed

The Crown & The Flame

The Elementalists (includes Winters Past) + tag for Griffin and Beckett

The Freshman Series

The Haunting Of Braidwood Manor

The Heist: Monaco

The Nanny Affair + tag for……..Robin (don’t @ me 😔)

The Royal Heir + tag for Maxwell

The Royal Masquerade

The Royal Romance (includes The Royal Holiday) + tag for Maxwell 

The Unexpected Heiress

Veil Of Secrets

Wishful Thinking

With Every Heartbeart

Other app games

Chapters

Love Island The Game

Lovestruck

The Wayhaven Chronicles

Personal

About me

Fave posts

My posts

My quizzes

Posts tagged as me

Answered asks

Ask games

Submissions

Miscellaneous

Art

Fanfics

Fandom tag (for both the fandom being stupid and serious stuff)

Icons

In the tags

Merch related

Posts not related to Choices  (though there are some relevant to the fandom but are still not related to the app itself)

Playlists

All quizzes (including those I did not make)

Tag for everything related to Pixelberry, which includes both announcements from the company or criticism

Resources (such as assets and transparents)

Videos

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Sunday Six 10.10.2021

Yay! Flufftober is here 🎉🍾😍

Am I going to pretend I'm not super late on my Kinktober submissions? Yes, I am 😅

Here's what I've been working on for CFWC Flufftober:

Untitled WIP | Ahmed Khabbaz x F!MC (Amanda)

While he's looking at the appetizer options, Amanda quickly flips through the pages and bites down her lip as her eyes land on a very specific list of options.

"Did you find something you like?"

"You could that again that," she answers without taking her eyes off the menu.

"Let's order it then," he says with a grin.

Her eyes widen for a moment, then she collects herself and flips back a page. "How about zucchini lasagna? You choose the other dishes."

"Good choice, Mandy!" He then turns to the waiter. "We'll have bruschettas, zucchini lasagna and lemon tarts."

"Very well. I'll be right back with your order, Mr. Khabbaz."

"Thank you." He nods to the waiter and looks back at his wife capturing the sun setting in the horizon of the Arno river with her phone.

Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations

[endlessflame]

Choices LI Tag Game

Thanks for tagging me, @stillafictosexual!

Across the Void: Meridian; also hooked up with Zekei once; also romanced Octan in fanfic and headcanon that my MC ended up with him; Lyra for Eos; Holmes for Pax

America’s Most Eligible: romanced Adam McIntyre (hispanic) for most of the series, then dumped him and married Slater Dominguez (who I also romanced in Book 2)

Baby Bump: Clint Covington (Asian), but may also hook up with Myles Dixon (not really into either of them that much)

Big Sky Country: Sawyer Oakley

Bachelorette Party: Ash Tanaka, and had a one-night stand with Stoli Magnusson in fanfic

Blades of Light and Shadow: Mal Volari, and hopefully Tyril too

Bloodbound: Jax Matsuo, but also hooked up with Adrian Raines (white) in Book 1 and the Book 2 threesome, and had a one-night stand with Dracula

The Crown & the Flame: Raydan Lykel 💛🖤; Sei Rhuka for Dom

A Courtesan of Rome: married Cassius Longinus, but slept with everyone (she was a courtesan, after all!)

Desire & Decorum: Ernest Sinclaire

The Elementalists: Griffin Langley

Endless Summer: Jake McKenzie

The Freshman series: Zig Ortega

The Haunting of Braidwood Manor: Victor

The Heist: Monaco: Fabien Ahmad

Hero: Only had eyes for Caleb, and romanced him in fanfic

High School Story: Aiden Zhou

High School Story: Class Act: M! Rory Silva (white)

Home for the Holidays: Wyatt Hart

It Lives in the Woods: Connor Green

It Lives Beneath: Tom Sato

LoveHacks: Mark Collins and Ben Park; picked Mark at the end

Mother of the Year: Levi Schuler

Nightbound: Cal Lowell

Open Heart: Bryce Lahela; Rafael Aveiro on the side

Passport to Romance: Elliot Langdon

Perfect Match: Damien Nazario

Platinum: M!Raleigh Carrera

Red Carpet Diaries: Matt Rodriguez

Ride or Die: Logan (hispanic, long-haired)

The Royal Masquerade: M!Kayden Vescovi (hispanic)

The Royal Romance: Liam (white) at first, then dumped him for Drake Walker, then married Bastien in fanfic

Rules of Engagement: Prince Leo; Blake Yasuda for party twin; Audrey for bookish twin

Save the Date: Simon Hendricks

Sunkissed: Nate and Samson, but at the end broke up with Nate and stayed with Samson

Veil of Secrets: Flynn O’Malley

Wishful Thinking: Jaime Lewis

Tagging @queen-of-effing-everything @endless-vall @boneandfur @endlesshero1122 @krishu213 @the-unconquered-queen @ritachacha and anyone else who wants to do this!

[whatevenismyaestheticidk]

Things I’ve heard high schoolers say pt 2

Person 1: But air doesn’t splash Person 2: How do we know that, Im splashing the air right now.

Person: Prove me wrong. Prove fish can’t see air.

Person: I think you underestimate just how poor I am.

Person: I just invented a new thing. No Romo. Like no homo but with romance cause I’m lonely. Get it?

Person: So yah I burned my hair cooking ramen.

Person: Well I figured he wasn’t an adopted iguana.

Person: Say it. You know god is watching.

Person 1 upon heading the news of George Bush’s death: Wait he’s still alive? Person 2: No he’s dead that’s the point.

Person: I got it. *five second pause* no I don’t got it.

Person 1: My name is (name), but you can call me yours. Person 2: Okay nice to meet you yours.

Person: Don’t drink it all fool.

Person: Bruh you could literally turn in a gay fanfic and he’d give it an A.

Person: Bruh, what is this triangular accusation?

Person 1:It’s call physics. Person 2: Yah but I don’t take Physics hence they should not apply to me.

Person 1: Discreet. Person 2: No discr-yeet *dabs*

Person 1: Be impressed with my ability to bull shit. Person 2: I mean, it’s gotten you this far.

Person: Why do I feel like finals are lowkey Russian roulette? Like okay I made it through most of them but I still have a few pulls of the trigger to go and one of them might get me.

Person 1: Murder. Just do it. Person 2: I didn’t know that nike was sponsoring murder.

Person: How do mermaids reproduce if they’re just like conjoined legs?

Person 1: Frozen Yogurt Person 2: Fro yo Person 1: Frozen YOgUrt Person 2: Fro Yo Person 1: FROZEN YOGURT

Person: All I have to do to commit suicide is jump from my parents expectations to my grades.

Person 1: I mean yah I cheated on that test. Person 2: Man your love life it DOOMED!

Person: I was seeing if I was tripophobic by repeatedly stabbing my finger with my pen.

Person: You do know that crickets exist during the day right?

Person 1: Hey (person 2), we’re friends right? Person 2: ….. What do you want. Person 1: You know, that sandwich looks real good. *person 2 hand them the sandwich* OMIGOD THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU!

Person: Omigod (person’s name) is going through puberty!

Person: If you pulled my ear I would have ripped out your nostril.”

Person 1: She’s attacking me! Person 2: No, he’s beating a woman, that’s not polite.

Person 1: I know many things! Person 2: like what? Person 1: ..... Person 2: my point.

Person: My shoes will be sparkly red stilettos. Fight me Dorothy.

Person: umm hello Christmas miracle even though I’m not Christian. Come at me 15 years from now!

Person 1: you’d make a really good baldie Person 2: yah you have a really rest head shape

Person: you know teletubbies? Yah that but compressed.

Person 1: I mean how will you become American? Person 2: paint me white, I’ll get a passport.

Person 1: I’m so funny. Person 3: it’s hard not to be when your life is a joke.

Person 1: So I’ve decided that my new career choice is to make school specific memes Person 2: That's Plan A? Yeash... at least Plan B lands you some cash

Person: I’m so small and bitter I’m like a human expresso

Person: You know what I’d name a baby kangaroo if I had one? David Jowie.

Person: I’m just saying that the orange red glitter crayon is you.

Person: I feel like a 1940’s schoolgirl who goes to an all girl finishing school where embroidery is a required class.

Person: I started high school with straight A’s, now I’m not even straight.

Person: Yeah, I’d swear by comic sans.

Person: (Persons name)stop being depressy and you’ll be more sucessy

Person: You can totally be insecure and self absorbed at the same time.

Person 1: Are you kids okay? Person 2: Besides crippling depression yeah.

Person: I don’t know it’s just giving me pig vibes.

Person: What drugs where the animators for “Pink Elephants on Parade” on?

Person: long story short I make like a semi hot guy.

Person: If I where pregnant id just be like 'you put this thing inside of me, you're helping me until it's out.'

Person: These girls asked me what type of  guys I like and being the simple gay I am, I completely blanked

Person 1: why do you read on your phone if you get carsick at 20 minutes? Person 2:Because it works for the first 19 minutes.

Person: Three Indians, a Thai, a Colombian, and an American walk into a bar. Just kidding they aren't old enough to drink. Three Indians, a Thai, a Colombian, and an American walk into a school cafeteria...

Person: I can't do alcohol cause I'm not of age but I can do drugs because they're illegal for everyone.

Person 1: you can't have a breakdown, it's the third day of school. Person 2:... so?

*Group of kids singing Bohemian Rhapsody in twelve different keys* Person: For gods sake choose a key!

Person: For gods sake that was complicated. You didn't need to send out a survey to see which episode of which season of which show to watch.

Person: Honestly I'd chose stab over dab any day.

Person 1: She said she'd throw me out of the window. Person 2: She never did. Person 1: She never did.

Person: What language is this? *pause* Oh wait it's English.

Person 1: I mean it's pretty hit or miss. Person 2 from across the courtyard: I guess they never miss, huh?

Person: Chu-chu bitch. I’m a train.

Person after loosing game of kahoots: I’m going to ka-shoot myself.

Person: So basically I need to learn Hungarian for a song.

Person: No one screams their sneeze, its not human

Person: If I where a mosquito I would bite you and you’d get malaria and die.

Person: That tide pod aesthetic.

Person: No I loved Barney, Barney was my bo.

Person: If I where my own boyfriend I’d dump me.

Person: It's already a really good song but then it's dubstep so it's extra good.

Person: No one is EVER to old for coolmathgames.com

Person 1: Why are you using a poon? Person 2:….. Person 1: WHY ARE YOU USING A POON?!

Person 1: I’ve been blonde for 16 years. Person 2: So what? I’ve been brown for 16 years and you don’t see me coloring myself white!

Person: Yes. Scrape the sweat off my hand.

Person: No one cares about a square cube of water.

Person: We’re melanin intoxicated.

Person: Well my life may be a mess, but at least I’m not doing drugs. Yet.

Person: Negative 13 out of 10, do not recommend.

Person: Yah that’s gunna have to be a no from me.

Person: Fool me once......fool me twice.......fool me as many times as you want, my first name is dumbass.

Person 1: Ya know, I think the Americans have the order of dates right JUST BECAUSE you can do 4/20/2019. Person 2: Okay but they’re still wrong though.

Person with AirPods: And where are YOUR AirPods? Thats what I thought you broke bitches.

Person: Salem witch trials bitches.

Person: La Croix, the AirPods of the soda world.

Person: Who needs a thermometer when you have… your hands!?

Person 1: It’s time to bring back SEXY MASQUERADE BALLS Person 2: It really is. I need an excuse to wear an incredibly uncomfortable dress that's so big I can't even walk through doorways. Person 1: And to wear a swan inspired mask that doesn’t cover enough of my face to deem myself totally anonymous enough to be half as bold and daring as i plan on acting that night but everyone else is on board we’ll all just forget about it the next day. Person 2: That's to specific for you to have made up on the spot, you've thought about this.

Person: It was lady Macbeth that drugged and made the guards drunk, without her Macbeth would just be like “I guess I’ll stab him???” Person: It’s like playing where’s Waldo but the page is India and I’m Waldo.3Person: Why are there so many frowny faces everywhere?

Person: This group chat is weird. It's either homework, deep philosophical conversations, or memes, there's no in between.

Person 1: Honestly, where DID it come from Person 2: The endless abyss that is the internet.

Person: Are you really blaming our generational depression on Jake Paul?

Person 1:  Oh. My. God. Guys. Keep your carbon dioxide away from my computer. Person 2: But sharing is caring. Person 1: But my computer doesn’t need this kinda of negativity in its life right now.

Person: Sweetie, if you think I’m going to stop wearing my favorite dress just because you kissed me in it, you are dead wrong.

Person with a metal straw: I don't drink broke.

Person: My whole life has become that sock on the floor. It's just there. When did life screw us over and then just ex? I’m just gonna write a book, and the last sentence will be life screwed them over and then exed. A story of the main character who gets screwed over, so I can get that 'it be like that sometimes' reaction.

Person in group chat: Positivity- I will make you feel better about being an idiot. Self Doubt- I will highlight all of your mistakes and set low standards for you so you'll never be disappointed. Me to Self Doubt- I'm listening...

Person 1: Sadly the disappointment never goes away... Person 2: Man we're a sad lot this time of year.

Person 1:It’s almost my favorite time of the year Person 2:Ahh yes. Singles awareness day, also known as chocolate sales at Walgreens eve, also known as... Valentine's Day. Person 1:... Oh... I meant rainy season.

Person: Being antivax is like swimming in shark infested waters because you're afraid the bridge could break lmao.

Person: I learned how eat a kumquat this weekend.

Person: It’s so sticky. It’s like clear cheese.

Person: Hamburger helper? More like hamburger help me pass this class.

Person 1: So I slipped on a grape… Person 2: You got K.O.’ed by a grape (person’s name), how does it feel.

Person 1: Look at me, I’m fine. Person 2: Well how many drugs did you take. Person 1: Several.

Person 1: Did you just say it’s ALMOST FEBRUARY? Person 2: Yes, it’s January 72nd.

Person: I knew your comedic standards where low, but poop jokes? Really?

Person: What? So are you insinuating the fact that reliablest isn't a word?

Person 1: [bitter old man voice] back in my day, tik tok was a kesha song. Person 2: Back in my day we had wires attached to our AirPods.

Person: There's a reason rainbows aren't straight. Just saying.

Person reading sheet music and seeing mf crescendo: I forgot that mezzo forte was a thing for a second so I thought it said mother fucker as a crescendo but mood

Person: He looks like a fine piece of toasted white bread.

Person: If life hasn't given me a fist bump by now, why should I give life one?

Person: we all died in 2012 this is hell.

Person 1: Who wants a pamphlet on condoms? Person 2: Why do you have this? Do you collect them? Person 1: Yah it’s my hobby. I have this one, one on HIV and one on teenage pregnancy.

Person: We live a society where reading about assassins and gory details is a hobby.

Person: Stop breathing so loudly on my thumb!

Person 1: I’m the comic relief. Person 2: For what? Person 1: Myself.

Person1: Who’s your valentine this year? Person 2: Me, myself and I. Person 1: Wow three valentines, you really can’t keep them away can you?

Person: Why do women gotta get their period, why not men. I wish I was born a seahorse.

Person 1: No we can’t all fit, her car is smol. Like you. Person 2:  Says you miss 5 foot nothing lmao. Person 1: Hey we’re the same hight so says you miss 5 foot nothing.

Person: No, that’s cheating no emotionally disabling people.

Person 1: Why is it that we’re talking about someone burning eggs on two different group chats. Person 2: Hey I didn’t burn them. Person 3: Cause why not?

Person 1:  That’s not how an Australian accent works. Person 2: This is why I’m not Australian, I don’t have the koala-fications.

Person 1: I’m Indian, numbers run through my blood. Person 2: That’s like saying I’m going to marry my cousin just because I’m white.

Person: So I ate veggies and hummus for lunch but then I counterbalanced it by eating a spoon full of straight Nutella.

Person: Seagulls, California Pigeons, what’s the difference?

Person 1: I humbly apologize and request your forgiveness. Person 2:  I humbly decline your request for forgiveness.

Person: I think I’m permanently stuck somewhere between “If you mess with me I’ll fight” and “If you mess with me I’ll cry.”

Person 1: It was implied! Person 2: What’s implied is your inability to accept that fact that I’m right!

Person 1: I got lazy because I was eating Pringles. Person 2: She values Pringles more than me.

Person: Yo, you be the crazy ex girls they be talking about in memes.

Person: I swear (persons name) if I hooked up with squidward in your dream your subconscious and I need to have a little talk.

Person: You get to die, and you get to die! Everybody gets to die!

Person: How do you just add a child?

Person 1: Look at this ink based pencil. Person 2: A pen?
 Person 1: This egg is all broken. Person 2: It’s like you then, you both broke under the pressure.

Lakshmi: Don’t force your opinion, voice it.

Person 1: If I where a fruit, which one would I be? Person 2: Sushi. Person 1:… Sushi isn’t a fruit.

Person: I mean it’s not straight up “Yo come here I’m gunna kill you.”

Person: Bye gays, bye (other girls name).

Person 1: No (person B) stop. Just shut up. You’re making me loose brain cells. Person 2: But… Person 1: No. Just no.

Person: Stop. That is non-consensual pizza eating.

Person 1: Cheese is not a vegetable! Person 2: Well it’s not a meat either! Person 3: Guys… It’s dairy.

Person: Idiots have priority over just regular dumb people

Person: God melted the polar ice caps just to make it rain for Noah then refroze them. I don’t know (kids name) I’m not god!

Person: You and I will go out, and leave them to their raw fish rolled in sea salad.

Person: Does anyone else get really energized when they change their room? Just me? Okay.

Person: I hope you know I will diss you guys to the end of the earth.

Person: Bruh talk to (person’s name) I don’t know sh… *notices teacher looking at her*…niahhh.

Person 1: The thing is, I don’t want to be 80 that’s rough. Person 2: Then just die at 50.

Person: You’d be scrambled eggs with hair.

Person: Seeing you two fighting, it’s like seeing a piece of light fighting a black hole.

Teacher: What can you tell me about probability? Student 1: I hate it. Student 2: Dont you mean you? Student 1: Yes both.

Person: My brain has the dumb I’m sorry

Person 1: If my first word was no, I’m assuming that’s foreshadowing for them my family disowns me after I renounce religion and systemic abuse. Person 2: Or…. You just need to make sure your last word is yes. Person 1: Yes to what though? Person 2: ‘Are you dying?’ Yes.’ Pessimism, just your style. Person 1: That’s true.

Person: My parents don’t message me, they’re the type of people who CALL. Where did I get my social anxiety from??

Person: Well guys it's been great knowing you I’m just going to drown now.

Person: I figured out a new diet regime, it’s called sleeping until noon and just not eating breakfast.

Person: The f on my birth certificate was the doctor paying their respects.

Person: Chocolates with raspberry filling are the sole reason I’m still alive.

Person 1: Isn’t Latin a dead language? Person 2: You’re a dead language!

Person: Hydrate before you diedrate.

Person 1: you have a son named Spider-Man? Person 2:  what noooo! Person 3: well don’t expose her!

Person: That awkward moment when you just really don’t care about people.

Person 1: (Person 2) and I will be over here with my virgin margarita and her water. Person 2: Hey! I want apple juice! Person 3: Why are you not drinking (Person 1)? Person 2: Because she’s to single, and also she’d strip. Person 1: Woahh! How dare you assume that I’m not drinking because I’m to single?

Person 1: Ya know, I think I’m going to have to jazz hands my way through hell. Person 2: All of us will.

Person: Brown town children, y’all find someone in India?

Person 1: Wow you have the best backup singers. Person 2: I only hire the best, at least 5 stars in yelp. Person 1: Well good because that’s  the sound they’re making.

Person: The cold kills everything, it’s like my heart.

Person 1: Remember the rolls I brought to school last year that I used to give you? The ones with paneer and the really good spices? Person 2: Yah? Person 1: This is not at all the same thing.

Person 1: What’s stevia? Person 2: It’s like sugar but no.

Person 1: Yeetus Skelettus. Person 2: Fetus Deletes? Honey, that’s called abortion.

Person: Anything for you. That’s what you said. Anything for you. But when I ask for just one bite of your pasta? No!

Person 1: I've written 1,300 words and don’t have a thesis statement or topic question Person 2: Yeah, you need to figure that out.

Person 1: you know I had a dream that you where in a romantic relationship with a toaster. Person 2:  wasn’t that your relationship with (ex’s name)? Person 1: you’d have more chemistry with a toaster.

Person: Can people read colors? Cause I am ooo.

Person: It’s like hands but medusa

Person: You look like a cardboard jellyfish that’s brown

Person 1: Two of us like boys. Person 2: We all like boys. Person 1: Two of us like ONLY boys.

Person: you’re like a reverse plant. You convert oxygen into carbon dioxide.

Person: Shhhhh. I’m not in physics, let me be dumb in peace.

Person: Why are you laying down like some greek god, get up you brown child.

Person 1: Do all of you just think you’re going to be single? Person 2: I already am why not keep the streak going to get a high score?

Person: and now cracks of light are coming out from around the sides like some sort of computer Jesus!

People 1 and 2: Rock Paper Scissors Person 3: shoot me please.

Person 1: not since 9/11 you can’t. Person 2: dang. You just tossed your whole country just to prove a point. I’ve never been so proud.

Person 1: what is an angle of depression? Person 2: it’s my life. Person 1: no it’s you because it’s not straight.

Person: Boom. Lesbians.

Person 1: Well what if two rocks just washed up at the same time and humans. Person 2: Evolution.

Person: Watermelon isn’t good anymore, I swear its just water with food coloring.

Person: You being dumb makes me want to correct you, sos too being dumb cause I’m on vocal rest.

Person: well (persons name) who have you a mouth?

Person: Teachers that grade late work deserve all the love and cookies and cake in the world.

Person 1: honestly I just want to die right now. Person 2: same. Literally same.

Person: I just feel like a single molecule lost in space.

Person: who’s gunna stop me? God? Damn him to hell.

Person: the line is not actually straight it’s like (students name)

Person 1: It’s your favorite sleep deprived gay. Person 2: But I’m my favorite sleep deprived gay. Self love. Person 1: We Stan.

Person 1: Why do you have a tool? Person 2: Because my hair is moist.

Person: eating lead was an otherworldly experience

Person 1: I have everything stolen from me 2: at least you have the tiniest bit of dignity left 3: what dignity? 1: exactly

Person 1:( holding up katsup) does this go on salad?

Person:I’m turning red! Me! A brown girl!

Person: I’m not trying argue that we should date, I��m just saying.

Person 1: what’s your biggest turn on? Person2 : a light switch Person 2: or then leaving.

Person 1: what is the most attractive retire on someone Person 2: my own face

Person: you’d be that one bar do white chocolate that just sits in the feidge because no one wants it

Person: that’s like saying I’d rather see your shirt than your face.

Person: why would I shut up when I can shut (kids name) down

Person: Subtle. Gay. Vibes. I’m telling you.

Person: just watch me write my ee on all the reasons why nick caraway is gay. Just watch me.

Person: Why are you stereotyping. What if the body doesn’t want trucks, what if he wants to be a fairy.

Person: being ace is basically just eww no but like forever.

Person: Stop trying to science your way out of being wrong.

Person: even if you did ask me out I’d still say no so then you’d even be rejected by a trash can

Person 1: you can’t read cheese color. Person 2: yellow?

Person 1: Think about  it like you’re brown Person 2: She is brown Person 1: Then act like it

Person: You’re not an ugly frog, you’re a beautiful human being. Person: I am. Very very dumb. And also. Bisexual.

Person: I was thinking of something smart but then I forgot what it was.

Person: I want to skip the crush phase and just make out with someone.

Person 1: The only way to get into the Holland family is to marry in through Paddy. Person 2: (Person 1’s name) this isn’t the royal family.

Person: Omigod you looked like the human version of squid ward.

Person: I want to be smart. Where can I learn smart stuff?

Person: But plant the seed and smoke the weed and chop the cane.

Peeeson 1: that is the definition of meter? Person 2: about 3 feet. Person 1: okay thanks America

Person 1: who’s Tom Holland? Person 2: Spider-Man you uncultured swine!!

Person: I am not a children

Person: Ohh dang yeah forgot chickens existed for a while

Person: Hey! Don’t narrate my water!

Person: I don’t read water.

Person: Think of it as a relationship. If you and your ex break up they are salty but you profit because you wanted to end it but if you end it weak, then y’all will argue back and forth and get nowhere with ending it while still exchanging insults.

Person: You know those really sexual mattress adverts?

Person: Oh please, you have the sexual appeal of an easy bake oven.

Person 1: weed is a gate way drug Person 2: YOURE A GATEWAY DRUG!

Person: (first, middle, last name), I love you to the end of the earth. But you are a daft child.

Person 1: She’s like that type of girl. She’s the long paragraph white girl. Person 2: Well that’s a niche if I’ve even seen one.

Person 1: swing you two fight is like watching two ants fight. Person 2: you friking piece of bacteria!

Person: I’m just an intellectual.

Person: I will murder your face off.

Person: that’s like a kilometer tall.

Person: It’s weird when I pet you horizontally.

Person: to be honest I thought those were rocks in a jar for the longest time. Turns out they weren’t.

Person: does she have a brother or gay tendencies

Person: I’m going to slap your hand like it’s a fricking spider.

Person: I like your face better blurry.

Person: every night at about midnight someone starts googling astrology

Person: I will kick you. I will murder your soul.

Person 1: I’m just going to marry a millionaire. Person 2: Where are you gunna finds a millionaire in this economy?

Person: Welcome to my tea party, there isn’t any tea to drink, but we have a lot of it to spill.

Person: Yah, it was something about sex or something.

Person: You’re all uncultured swines.

Person: I’m about as straight as a sine curve.

Person 1: They’re not Oreo’s you dumb head Person 2: I know that dumber head. Person 3 :Shut up dumbest heads

Person: As an ex foetus i can say with authority that if my mother had aborted me i wouldn't have known nor would i have given a fuck

Person: I’ve just accepted I’m going to fail this test. I’ve gone through the 5 stages of grief already.

Person: Yes I’m blind that’s why I need glasses fool.

Person: what the fork do you want you little son of a biscuit.

Person: Anyway now I’m taking Tylenol PM and I’m going to actually sleep tonight that’ll be fun.

Person: I need all the hoodies. ALL OF THEM.

[choicesdecemberchallenge2019]

Day Eight - Presents

Fanfiction

Passport To Romance

More Than I Asked For (Elliot Langdon x MC) - @maria-soederberg​

Red Carpet Diaries

Family (Thomas Hunt x MC) - @theartoflovingthomashunt​

Ride Or Die

First Snow (Colt x MC) - @lovehugsandcandy​

Save The Date

Shhh — (Justin Mercado x MC) - @storyofmychoices​ [Adult content]

The Royal Romance / Rules Of Engagement

An Act Of Kindness (Leo x OC) - @xxrainbow-princessxx​

Let’s Be Kids Again (King Liam x MC) - @cordonianroyalty