#someone edit in the champagne carpet so i can use this again

[jae-daddy]

Duff (11)

im jaebum au series 

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader  genre: angst, mature, smut  plot: you are the duff and guys use you to get close to your best friend, heather, and turns out Jaebum is no exception, but as time goes on the tension between you and your best friend’s unofficial boyfriend grows a/n: it’s been a while, my bad. but the next chapter is going to spicyyyyyyyy. not edited, hope yall enjoy it <3 stay safe out there <3

Your jaw dropped as the driver drove through the gates and up the long driveway to Park Jinyoung’s mansion. You knew he was rich, but you didn’t know he was this rich. But even more than the vast wealth the Parks had, you were more taken by the decorations that started from the gate all the way up to the main entrance. 

You turned towards Jaebum who was watching you already. You felt the golden glow of the lights outside flow into the unlit car, and somehow you could see something glint in his dark eyes. 

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it Mr Kim?” you looked out the window again, to see the sparkling lights making a rendition of Van Gough’s starry night. You smiled to yourself a bit, “It might be a bit cliche and basic, but starry night is my favourite piece of artwork.” 

The driver hummed in reply, saying something about taking a picture for his daughter.

Jaebum didn’t reply, and you didn’t mind. Him and you weren’t exactly on friendly speaking terms, well at least not in your books. 

Since that day in the office, Jaebum had tried to talk to you numerous of times, but you avoided him. You didn’t want to hear his empty apologies or empty excuses or empty flirty, or whatever meaningless, empty words he wanted to say to you because he was feeling bored. 

You didn’t even think he would pick you up today, but when you called up your driver, Jaebum had pulled up in his sleek black car. It was a moment that you seen in movies, where the male lead sees the female lead with her makeover for the first time, and he’s blown away. 

But Im Jaebum wasn’t blown away. He wasn’t even fazed, if anything he found you so unappealing that he couldn’t bear to look at you for more than two seconds without looking away in pain. 

Was he always such an asshole?

He probably was, but back then he was trying to charm you with his sweet words. Maybe, he was a sicko who liked girls who weren’t into him, and as soon as you showed him any interest he vanished into the night. 

The car stopped at the red carpet laid out at the entrance, and you began to check your outfit and lipstick for the last time before reaching for the door. Your hand was reaching for the handle when the door swung open, and a hand reached in for you. 

You placed your hand in theirs, and carefully got out of the car. 

You stepped out to find yourself chest to chest with Jaebum. His fingers gripping onto your fingers as you stared up at him. 

You cleared your throat and began taking a step away from him, when he reached out and pulled your body against his by your waist. Your hands laid flat against his chest, the black material feeling rich on your skin. HIs dark eyes drifted to your lips, before they looked away purposefully. 

You turned around to find the car driving off behind you that you were about to bump into. You looked up at Jaebum, your cheeks tainting pink, “Thanks.” 

“Watch where you’re going,” was all he replied, as he let you go. 

Your heart once again sank at the lack of endearment, but you ignored it and adjusted the dress before you began following Jaebum into the mansion. 

Jaebum was instantly surrounded by people. People lining up around him, trying to play it off as they waited for their turns for introductions. You were right next to Jaebum, introducing him to everyone. 

The first hour was spent just like that, making introductions and standing next to Jaebum and pretending like you were invisible. The other important people only gave you a passing glance before looking away, no one stared for too long. You weren’t worth their time. 

You didn’t mind though. 

You enjoyed the architecture of the building and the artworks hanging around the hall. This must have really been a castle at some point you concluded after an hour of staring at the walls. You wondered which kind of ruler lived here before, but you knew for certain whoever it was wasn’t a good person; no in power ever is. 

Jaebum and you had drifted away about fifteen minutes ago, but you kept an eye out for him. He was currently taking to Paul from work, so you thought he was in safe hands. You took another mini-sausage roll before washing it down with another glass of expensive champagne. 

You didn’t like that taste even though it was exquisite. All it did was remind you of the night Jinyoung engaged to that woman in front of you, after telling you he loved you a few hours ago. 

“I finally found you,” a deep voice spoke behind you. His voice fell over you like velvet, and you struggled to breath. 

You turned around, already annoyed, “What are you doing here, Jinyoung?”

“You’re casual and feisty today,” he chucked, moving to stand next to you. He picked up a mini-sausage and popped it into his mouth, before waving a hand around, “This is my party, incase you’ve forgotten, y/n.” 

You snorted, “How can I forget with this champagne? Tell me, was this your favourite before you chose her or did it happen after?” 

“Woah,” Jinyoung tried to take the glass from you, but you moved it out of his reach, “How many of those have you had?”

“None of your business,” you gave him a straight smile. “None of these people are drinking anything anyway. And I needed a drink, it’s just been so hard lately.” 

You leaned your head on his shoulder, but straightened your spine right away, “I’m not drunk, Jinyoung. I just don’t have the energy to fight or pretend, at least not with you, not tonight.” 

“I don’t know if that is a compliment or not,” Jinyoung clicked his tongue, playfully. “I kind of like it when you fight with me.” 

“God, you’re such a perv, Jinyoung,” you groaned, and he laughed. 

“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand and gesturing to the dance floor. “Dance with me?” 

“No, thanks.”

“Why not?” 

“Are you sure you want to dance with me?” You asked him, with a knowing look. “I know this is a party, but I am still just an assistant here. Are you sure your reputation won’t hurt from dancing with someone like me? I’m not made of money like you, Jinyoung.” 

“Beauty and wealth are both welcomed here, y/n,” Jinyoung took your hand in his, “And you have a wealth of beauty, my dear.” 

He brought your hand to his face, his lips brushing over your knuckles. 

“Oh, right,” you chuckled, your heart sinking slightly. “You think I am pretty.”

Your gaze went to Im Jaebum who didn’t spare you a single glance. Your eyes fell on the girl he was talking to, and you couldn’t help but notice how different she was to you. You couldn’t but notice how different Jaebum looked talking to her; kind and well-mannered. 

“I’ve always found you beautiful, y/n,” Jinyoung said, drawing your attention back to him. “That’s why I was drawn to you in the beginning, and when I got to know you... well, I guess that was the end of me.” 

You laughed lightly as you placed your hand on his shoulder, and the other in his hand. His hands rested on the curve of your clothed hip. 

“But today,” he smiled at you, “You looked absolutely gorgeous.”

“Don’t exaggerate, Jinyoung. If you were so taken by me,” you laughed, teasingly, giving him a look. You continued your words turning sour, “You would’ve chosen me.” 

“You know how things were back then, y/n,” Jinyoung sighed, he closed his eyes to take a deep breath. He opened them to stare into yours with so much emotion, you couldn’t breathe. 

“I looked for you, you know,” he spoke over the music. You couldn’t blink or breath as you stared at Jinyoung. His brows creased as if he was rethinking a painful event. “After I decided to end the engagement... after I broke it off, I looked for you. I searched for you, but I couldn’t find you anywhere.” 

“I- I went back home,” you whispered. You saw yourself laying in a pool of your vomit and urine, and your mother and father crying around your limp body. “I couldn’t stay here. Everyone was talking about you... it was too much.” 

“Y/n,” Jinyoung said, softly. You looked up to meet his gaze. “It’s nice to have you back. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” 

“Jinyoung-” 

“May I cut in?” 

“Always interrupting us, isn’t he, y/n?” 

You turned to find Jaebum glaring holes into Jinyoung’s head. 

“What if I say no?” Jinyoung pouted, teasingly. Jaebum sighed, his patience running thin. You looked around to see people already turning this way. 

“Stop it,” you gritted through your teeth at the both of the them, your lips holding a smile. “People are starting to look.” 

“I’ll dance with him for a bit,” you smiled at Jinyoung, “Thank you Jinyoung.” 

Jinyoung smiled back at you before giving you a cheeky wink. You chuckled watching him walk away. 

“You both seem closer than last time,” Jaebum said from behind you. You shrugged stepping closer to him placing a hand on his shoulder and the other in his hand. You were holding Jinyoung the same way a few moments ago, but somehow this felt different. 

The soft velvet of his jacket, the heat of his skin, the short hair tickling your fingertips at the nape of his neck. It was all somehow more intense, more intimate. 

Jaebum’s warm hands wrapped around yours as he took another step closer towards you. HIs other hand rested on your waist, pulling you in closer as it rested on the small of your back. His thumb caressed the exposed skin from your dress and you drew in a sharp breath. 

You didn’t say anything as you looked up at him. His dark eyes bore into yours, his lips drawn and tight. His jaw clenched and sharp, his black eyelashes gently fluttering across his cheekbones. 

He was beautiful. 

He was a sin in this all black suit made to precision for him. His hair was styled in-between completely swept back and lazy natural. His lips were rosy pink, and even without his lip-ring you wanted to taste them between your lips. 

You leaned closer to him. HIs thumb gently caressing your back, electricity dancing up your spine making your head spin. You welcomed his minty breath falling over your lips, as your eyes fell to his lips. And to his neck, watching as he swallowed nervously. Your gaze fluttered up to meet his eyes fixed on your face. 

You looked away from him feeling your cheeks flush, “Are you having a good time tonight, sir?” 

Jaebum only hummed in reply, his dark eyes still trained on you. 

Your eyes met his intense gaze for a moment before looking away instantly, “It’s a beautiful place, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, it is,” Jaebum said. You didn’t say anything more and bit your lip wondering if you should continue to dance with him or excuse yourself. 

You looked up at Jaebum, your hands letting go off him. 

Jaebum’s hand held yours tighter as he pulled you in closer by your waist. Your front was completely pressed against him now, and your body shivered as he leaned his lips close to your ear. 

You felt his warm breath caress the slope of your neck, and you closed your eyes letting the feeling sink deep within your bones. 

Jaebum drew his lips higher, his softness brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Thank you for everything, y/n.” 

You remained like that for a moment. Soaking in his presence, his heat, his touch, his breath, him somewhere deep inside your heart, and then you leaned back. 

“Thank you for giving me this opportunity, Mr Im,” you smiled up at him. 

Jaebum stared at you with an unreadable expression as his lips parted. 

“You must be glad you’ll be getting a proper secretary now,” you laughed, but there was no humour between you two. 

“I might not stay.”

“I know,” you nodded, “But if you do, I think it’ll be the biggest win for the company.”

Jaebum might be an asshole, a player; a complete fuckboy. But he was also hardworking, intelligent and gave his all into his work and accomplished a lot within the last three months you were working with him. 

“Loosing you is probably the biggest loss,” he said, pausing for a moment. “For me.” 

“I’m sure there are more qualified then me for this job.” 

“But I only want you, y/n.” 

You breath got caught at his words. Your wide eyes met his that stared at you as if you were the stars and the moon. As if once again you were presented to him as impossible puzzle, and he wanted to get lost in trying to solve you. 

He moved in closer, and lowered your gaze to avoid his heated ones. 

Jaebum lifted his hand from your waist. His fingertips brushed your cheeks with the slightest touch as he whispered, “You look beautiful, y/n.”

“Jaebum, stop it.” You began moving out of his arms, but he pulled you back in. His fingers digging into your waist as he held you steady in front of him. 

“Why?” His fevered breath fell over your face as you looked up at him. His eyes were wild with darkness, but it didn’t scare you. It only made you mad, so terribly horribly mad. 

“Why?” You spat, quietly. Your chest was heaving as you tried to control the anger that had been swelling inside you over the past month. 

“Don’t you think we’re past these little games of yours?” You sneered up at him. Your hand on his shoulder tightened as you tried to control yourself. “We already know I fell for it. Do you wanna see if I’ll fall for it again after being rejected once?” 

Jaebum didn’t say anything so you snorted. The sneer on your dark lips growing as you looked down your nose at him, “I won’t let you lead me on again, only to make a fool of me like that. I’m not going to play this sick game of yours.” 

Jaebum’s fingers bit harder into your waist making you gasp as he pulled you flush against him. HIs nose almost brushed against yours, as he breathed harshly, “A game? You think all of this was a game for me?” 

“What else could it be?” You snickered at him, both your hands flattening on his shoulder, trying to push him away with attracting any attention. But he wouldn’t budge a centimetre. You gritted through your teeth as you glared up at him, “Why else would you pretend to be into me? Play with me like that?”

Play with my feelings like that?

Jaebum’s hands rested on your exposed back as he held you steady against him. His jaw clenched, his eyes furious as he tried to control his breathing. 

“It wasn’t a game for me.” 

You ignored his words. 

“Then what was it?” You bit back. “You made it seem like you felt the same way only to reject me when I-”

“I didn’t reject you,” Jaebum cut you off. 

You began laughing mockingly, and Jaebum shook you slightly to make you look at him.  

You didn’t say anything and looked up at him, your lips parted in surprise. 

“Do you,” Jaebum whispered, leaning in closer to you as he leaned his forehead against yours. His eyes stirring golden as they stared into yours, his fingertips softly dancing on your back, causing fire to dance through your vines. “have any idea how crazy you make me, y/n?” 

Suddenly it was all too much. His touch, the way he was looking at you, the things he was saying. The lights shining down upon you two, the chattering of people around you. It all became to loud too much. Your heart beat loudly in your ear as you took a step away from him. 

Jaebum looked at you, expectantly. You stared him, unable to hear a single bought. The only thing you could hear was your heart beating thumping loudly in your ear. 

Your lips parted, you were going to say something. You weren’t sure what. Jaebum’s gaze fell to your lips, waiting for you to the say the words. You took another step back, not saying a single word. 

The smile on Jaebum’s lips dropped as your brows creased as a sudden panic before settling in your chest. You needed to get away.

“I-” you began. 

“Y/n!” You turned to saw a fury of red first, and then her smiling face as she jumped in front of you. “I didn’t know you were coming here.” 

Heather turned to Jaebum, placing a kiss on his cheek. His eyes remained on you, his face void of any emotions. 

Heather smiled at you, “Go away, JB. I won't let you steal my best friend.” 

// 

You were next to Heather the rest of the night, but your eyes still followed the man in the black suit. His sharp eyes met yours throughout the night, but every time you looked away. 

You were looking at him once again. There was something pleasant about his lips when he talked, and the way those whiskers appeared on his cheeks when he would smile or laugh brightly. You couldn’t look away from him no matter how hard you tried. 

You watched him talk to Park Jinyoung with a frown on his face, that deepened when Jinyoung looked your way and winked. His hard glaze travelled to you, as his lips drew into a straight line. 

You looked away once again, your cheeks on fire. 

“Are you okay?” Heather asked. You looked towards her to find her following your gaze to the pair of males. 

“Mhmm,” you nodded, taking a sip of the champagne.

You watched Heather take a sip too, but you noticed that knowing smile on her lips. 

This was all too dangerous.

[leelee10898]

A miss match Christmas: matched for disaster.

Hello everyone! Hope you all are having fun reading and writing these awesome Christmas fics! This is my submission for our 12 days of fictmas: 2020 edition, hosted by myself and @emichelle . This comes from the VIP book miss match.. granted the book is not over but, im my head Jack x MC (Callie) have both become CEO of two's company and are married.. this jumps a few years into the future.

The sound of heels could be heard on the slick marbled floor from down the hall. He kept his head forward, eyes trained on the laptop in front of him. As the clicking grew closer, his lips curled up into a smile. "I thought you were heading home?" He could hear the laugh in her voice, he finally looked up to meet her eyes. Those eyes, that intoxicating smile, it was what drew him in the first time they met. It was 4 years ago on valentines day, in her fathers crowded bar. "I could say the same for you." He chuckled. 

She walked over to the desk, standing behind him leaning down to see what he was working on. Her long brown hair brushed against his cheek.   "Last minute additions to the Christmas party, Jack?" She eyed him, he casually shrugged his shoulders. "And how many clients will be in attendance now?" Her fingers hovered over the mouse, clicking the guest list, her eyes widened in shock.  "He is coming?" Jack gave her a knowing look as she stood up striaght.  "Now Callie, I know what you're thinking but, wasn't it you who said, and I quote 'everyone deserves to find love, no matter what' ?" He gave her a smug smile. 

"Yes," Callie spoke through gritted teeth. "But this guy is accident prone. We will have to tie the decorations down with steel ropes, not to mention no open flames. The wait staff will need helmets.." she began to ramble. Jack chuckled as he stood to calm his pacing partner. "It will be ok,Callie. Just relax." 

Two weeks later… 

Callie stood toeards the back of the room, her eyes constantly scanning for the one person she would have to be on constant look out for. The worry leaving a crease between her eyes. "Have you moved from this spot at all?" She heard his smooth baritone come up beside her. 

"No." She casually spoke, not taking her eyes off the door. Jack shook his head, a small chuckle escaping him as he handed her a champagne flute. "You're cute when you're flustered,Cal. Just Relax." 

Just as he spoke a tall man came into view, callie sucked in a panicked breath and sat her glass on the table. Jack placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and turned her face towards his with his free hand. "We will approach him together, he is here to find a match just like everyone else is." Callie nodded and the two crossed the room.  

"Thomas Haught, it's good to see you again. You remember my partner,Callie?" Jack spoke, extending his hand. Thomas reached out to shake it, missing completely and knocking the glass out of Jack's other hand. 

"Jack." Callie groaned under her breath. 

"I am so, so sorry Jack." Thomas apologized. "I am such a klutz, maybe I shouldn't have come." 

"It's ok Tom,You are perfectly fine. Try to relax, everyone is here for the same reason. Why dont you grab a bite to eat and we will meet up in a few." Jack smiled politely. 

Thomas nodded and headed towards the elaborate buffet table,Callie began to panick "Jack, you just sent him to get food, alone. There are flames under those trays, what if he," callies eyes widened in horror as she watched Thomas's sleeve catch fire.  It was quickly put out by a server. "You see!" She shrieked. 

"Ok, so maybe Toms a little bit accident prone. Which is why we need to find someone who is a great care giver for him." He chuckled, Callie rolled her eyes and walked away. 

As the night went on Callie tailed Thomas. In his wake he managed to trip a waiter carrying a full tray of cranberry and brie with crackers. Knocked over the ice sculpture and elbowed a match maker in the face, blackening his eye.  Tom sat at a table alone, Callie was able to relax a little as she watched him slump his shoulders in defeat. If he was sitting, he couldn't be that much of a threat. 

Thomas was a handsome man, he was tall and had a thin build. He was in his early thirties and a client of the company's for several years. He was thought to be an 'un matchable' but that didn't stop Jack from trying. She recalled his file in her head. The man volunteered with underprivileged children, he owned his own company and was a volunteer fire fighter.  How he managed to not cause more damage with that last part was beyond her. 

As she stood there staring at him, she began to feel that familar feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had spent so much time preparing for disaster that she could not let herself willingly try to match this man. That's when the match maker spark came to life.  "I know that look, you found your fire." Jacks strong arms wrapped around her waist. "I told you to stop fighting yourself, you were going to lose." He chuckled as his lips found the base of her neck. 

"Why is it that the man can rush into burning buildings without falling through the steps, or the place falling in on him. But he can't walk an open room without tripping on a loose thread in the carpet?" She softly hummed. 

"It's probably the adrenaline, that and a mix of confidence." Jack answered.  "When is this party over again?" His lips exploring her exposed skin. 

"That's it!" She quickly spun around in his arms. "You're a genius,Jack! And that's why I married you." She quickly kissed him. "You're a genius." She murder against his lips before turning and walking away. 

"What did I do? No clue?" He spoke to himself, shaking his head and following her across the room. 

"Having a good time, Thomas?" The sound of  Callies voice made Thomas jump up. His knees hit the table and knocked over several drinks and his chair. "I'm so sorry, why am I such a spaz?" Thomas groaned as he lifted a glass off the table. "It's ok Tom, just leave it. The staff will clean it up." By this time Jack had joined the two, giving Callie a confused look. 

"Walk with us, will you?"  Callie motioned to Thomas. Thomas wrung his hands nervously, tripping over his own feet. "This is hopeless, maybe I should just go home.  I can't even walk without tripping over my own feet, how am I supposed to find love? I would probably accidentally harm them somehow." 

Callie held up her hand, motioning around the room at the various people. Some couples that had just connected, others just mingling trying to find a spark. "Do you think any one of these people are perfect? That they don't all have some kind of quirk? Some personal issues? Because I will tell you, nobody is perfect. Tell me Thomas do you have any mishaps when you're running into a burning building?" 

Tomas searched his mind. "Ah, no. No I can't say that I have." 

"And why do you think that is?" She pressed.  

"Adrenaline? I don't have time to think I just do it." He shrugged, a smile spread across her face as Thomas began to connect the dots. 

"I think you have the potential to be a great someone to somebody, you just need to stop over thinking it and be yourself." Callie patted him on the shoulder. Thomas looked to Jack who nodded his head in agreement.  "She's right you know. She's always right." 

As the three stood there, Jack with his arms around Callie and Thomas scanning the room with a new found sense of pride, he noticed a couple getting a little too hot and heavy by the enormous 10 foot Christmas tree. He watched in horror as it began to sway just as a pretty petite dark haired woman stood right in the path of destruction.  Thomas set off in a sprint across the room, he grabbed the woman by the waist yanking her out of the way just in time as the tree crashed to the ground. The pair tumbled on the floor, Thomas landing practically on top of the woman. 

Callie and Jack ran over to the pair as Thomas perched up to look down on the raven haired beauty, shock written all over her face.

"I'm sorry for the crash landing miss but, I couldn't let such a gorgeous creature be crushed to death by a massive tree." He gave her a cheesy grin as he helped her up. 

"Oh my god, Maggie are you ok?" Callie wrapped her assistant in her arms. 

"I'm perfect, thanks to my Hero over here. " Maggie blushed as she motioned towards Thomas. 

" oh im no hero miss." He gave her a bashful smile. 

"Anyone who risks being impaled by a rogue tree is definitely a hero in my book. I owe you one." Maggie flirted.  

"All in a day's work, mam." Thomas blushed awkwardly.  He looked to callie and Jack, callie giving him an encouraging nod. 

"Would you ah, would you like to grab a drink?" 

Maggie looked to Callie and Jack, twos companys no dating clients or co-workers policy used to be iron clad, until Jack and Callie showed Veronica just how stupid the rule could be. Technically it wasn't encouraged to date clients but, Maggie wasn't a match maker and Thomas was actually perfect for her. 

"You two have fun." Callie winked as she grabbed Jack by the arm leading him away as the banquet halls staff began cleaning up the tree fiasco. They walked out onto the balcony, the cold New York air causing immediate goosebumps on callies skin. Jack noticed, shrugging off his jacket and draping it Over her shoulders. "You know if you asked me 4 years ago if I would be here, like this in this moment I would have told you, you were crazy." He spoke softly, his gaze fixed on his wife. " of course I always knew I would be CEO." He gave a cocky chuckle. 

"And now?" She challenged. 

"Now I cant begin to believe my life. I never thought I would share everything with someone I am truly head over heels in love with. I love you Callie Munroe, you never stop amazing me with everything you do. And just when I think you couldn't possibly amaze me more, you go and give us a family." 

Callies eyes widened, she hadn't told him yet. She found out they were expecting a week ago and planned on telling him Christmas morning. "How did you know?" 

"I know everything about you, Callie. I can not wait to be a dad, this will be our greatest chapter yet. Merry Christmas." He leaned in placing a soft kiss to her forehead.  

"Merry Christmas, Jack." 

******☆☆☆☆☆******

Tag list : Writers : @texaskitten30 @Leelee10898 @emichelle @zaffrenotes @alj4890 @burnsoslow @kat-tia801 @darley1101 @msjr0119 @annekebbphotography @god-save-the-keen @plumeriavibes @ofpixelsandscribbles @camillemontespan @ao719 @cocomaxley @cordoniansgonewild @twinkleallnight @the-soot-sprite @cordoniantrash @axwalker @innerpostmentality @lucy-268 @janezillow @katedrakeohd  

Readers : @mom2000aggie @sfb123 @bbrandy2002 @debramcg1106 @desireepow-1986 @speedyoperarascalparty @hopefulmoonobject  

[lovemychoices]

The Lost Prince - TRR/TRH AU [Liam x MC] Mini Series - Part 1

After being married for three years and unable to produce an heir. Liam gets an unexpected news that changes his & Riley’s life forever.

Genre : Romance, Drama

*THIS SERIES PRACTICALLY THROWS CANON OUT THE WINDOW* YEET!YEET!

Characters except my OCs belong to Pixelberry, I am just borrowing them

Word count : 1500++

Chapter Summary: Liam and Riley struggle to get an heir forcing Riley to go with plan C. Meanwhile Liam gets some life changing news that could change his life forever.

A/N : So I had this series kept in my draft for quite sometime and finally decided to post it. I might regret this later. This will be a 5-6 part mini series and is going to be a prequel for another series I have planned called Heirs : A prince of Cordonia. I did not check for edits so forgive me for any grammatical mistakes.

Warning : Mentions of infertility and some pregnancy complications, that might be sensitive to some readers.

Riley nervously taps her feet on the carpet floor of the SUV while fidgeting with the fingernails, she was trying her best not to bite on them a habit she developed as a child whenever she felt nervous or uneasy. They were on their way to meet the OB-GYN for what felt like the hundredth time. Riley and Liam have been married for two years and were unsuccessful in producing an heir, something that they were being put under pressure for ever since they were married.

They tried the natural way during their first year of marriage when that didn’t work they opted for other options like IVF and IUI even some traditional methods but nothing worked. “Everything will be alright love.” Liam takes her hand assuring her. “Liam, I can’t go through with this again. What if it’s a false alarm again? What if I’m not pregnant.”

Liam wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulling her closer. “Then we try again, there are some couples who try ten year before they are able to conceive.”

“But we’re not like other couples, we don’t have time. The longer Cordonia doesn’t have an heir the more dangerous it will be for the monarchy. What if something bad happens?”

“Hey look at me Riley.” He tilted her chin with his fingers so she’s looking at him. “I will never let anything bad happen to us. Whatever it takes, remember?” Riley gives a grateful nod and leaned her head on Liam's shoulder. When they reached the doctor's office, the were both heartbroken to hear that their IVF treatment was yet again not successful.

At that point Riley had already felt like giving up and was considering a third option. “I think we should move to plan C.” She said in a perpetually tired voice, her eyes downcast. Liam is about to say something but she holds up her hand and continues. “Before you say anything, Hana and I already have a few candidates lined up and by the looks of it they seem pretty promising.”

“Love, I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to.”

“But that’s just it Liam, I want this. I am just so tired with all the failed attempts, I just can’t do this anymore. I want to have a family with you even if it means I’m not the one who’s going to be carry them myself. It will still be our child and that’s the only thing that matters to me.”

Riley's request took Liam by surprise, he knew how much the whole pregnancy experience meant to her. He gets up from his chair and walks to where Riley is seated, he takes her hand in his and kneels in front of her, his eyes gazing warmly into hers. “My love, you know all I want is your happiness. If this is what you want, what you really want then you have my full support.”

If she was being honest, surrogacy was the last thing she wanted. What if something went wrong? Like the surrogate going rouge and running away with their baby? There have been such cases. But she didn’t want to be selfish, she knew how much having an heir meant to Liam and while he could wait the council couldn’t nor could the media.

Riley gives a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ll have Madeleine set up an appointment for the candidates next week so the both of us can conduct the interview ourselves since we won’t have anything going on.”

Liam nods giving her a comforting squeeze. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

*************************

Liam sat in his office going through some documents that required his attention though his mind wasn’t really paying attention. Riley’s request kept ringing in his head, he wanted to make her happy and he would move heaven on earth for her. It’s not a big deal, a lot of people who can’t have a baby often go for surrogates.

He is suddenly pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of his office phone ringing and picks it up.

“Your majesty, there’s someone on line it’s someone calling from the states. She says it’s important, something about Maya Reinhart?”

“Maya Reinhart?” He mimicked, he only met one person with that name Maya and it was 6 years ago when Leo took him for an impromptu brothers bonding trip to LA.

6 years ago…

The sound of live music filled the air of the rooftop party in downtown Los Angeles. It was after Liam just graduated from college and Leo decided they should celebrate with their annual brothers trip.

“Look alive brother because tonight we're going to party out ass off.” Leo grinned patting Liam on the back. “Now take your pick, tonight we're are not two princes only a couple of two normal but still handsome young men looking for adventure.”

Liam shrugs. “And by adventure you mean a one night stand with someone?”

“Who said it was just the one?” Leo gave a mischievous grin, making Liam shake his head. “ Oh, if anyone asks what we do, just tell them we’re models or something. Now go have fun!” He eagerly pushed Liam into the crowd and heads the opposite direction toward the bar where a few ladies were seated and were ogling their eyes at him since they arrived.

Liam scanned the room taking in the lively atmosphere of the party, it was nothing like the balls they had back in Cordonia. There were no formalities or protocol they needed to follow, everyone could just have fun and let loose.

“Are you lost?” Liam whirled around and saw petite brunette with the most beautiful smile sitting by one of the L shaped couch next to the edge of the glass banister holding a book. But that wasn’t the only thing about her that caught his attention, what caught his attention was the colour of her eyes. One of it was blue while the other was half blue and half brown.

“Um.. No. I was actually looking for a place to sit. Do you mind?” He gestured to the empty space beside her. The woman gave a shrug before nodding and returned to read her book.

Liam sheepishly took a seat next to her. “So..why are you reading at a party?”

“Because I’m studying for the bar exam on Monday. I would rather stay at home but my housemate insisted I come, so here we are.” She said and closed her book, turning her attention towards Liam. “So what about you? Why are you doing at a place like this, clearly this must’ve been your first choice in your itinerary.”

“What gave you that impression?”

“Because you’re here talking to someone who’s reading a very boring textbook instead of enjoying himself sipping champagne by the table of supermodels over there.” She gestured to where Leo was standing.

“You’re right this wasn’t the first place I had in mind when I came to LA but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t starting to enjoy myself.” He grinned then extended his hand. “I’m Liam by the way. Liam….” He paused when he remembered not to use his real last name. “Deveraux. Liam Deveraux.” She smiled and shook his hand. “Maya.”

“Only Maya?” He raised an eyebrow. “For now, if you can keep me interested until the end of the night I might just give you my last name.” She playfully winked which made him snort out a laugh. “So Liam, I assume from your accent that you’re not from the states. What brings you to this side of the pond?”

“I’m here on a modeling job with my brother.” He lied then pointed to where Leo was standing.“He’s the one standing by the bar talking to those women.”

“Why aren’t you joining him?” She looked at him curiously.

“Because I’m enjoying the company I have now.” He grinned. “By the way, you have really pretty eyes.”

Maya chuckled. “It’s called sectoral heterochromia. It’s sort of genetic but very uncommon in humans. My grandmother on my mother’s side had it. People normally stare at me weirdly when they first notice my eyes, like I’m some sort of alien or something.”

“Well I think it’s beautiful.” He smiled and her cheeks started to blush. As the night went on the two talked and drank, enjoying each others company. After four bottles later Liam finally worked up the courage to ask Maya to dance with him.

The two swayed rhythmically to the beat of the music with Maya’s back pressed in front of Liam, his hands moved along the silhouette of her body and his lips inches away from her neck. He spun her around to face him and capture her lips in a heated kiss ignoring the crowd around them. She pulled back letting out a soft giggle and gazed into his dark blue eyes, both smiling back.

After that, everything else went by quickly. Liam invited Maya to his suite for coffee but one thing lead to another and the next thing he knew they were both eagerly taking each others clothes off and having mind blowing sex. The next day he woke up and Maya was already gone, the only thing she left was a piece of note on the bed that said. Thanks for last night, Maya. Liam let out a sigh then plopped back onto his pillow and murmured. “She didn’t give me her last name.”

Present day….

“Put them on.” Liam said. “Hello am I talking to his majesty King Liam Rys or Cordonia?” The person asked it was a voice of a woman but it sounded nothing like Maya. “Yes this is he and please call me Liam, may I know who is on the line?”

“My name is Leah Sanchez, I am a friend of Maya’s.” She sputters. “I don’t even know if you even remember her…”

“Yes I remember Maya, we met that one time 6 years ago. What’s this call about? Did something happen to her is she alright?”

There was a short moment of silence before the woman said something. “Liam, Maya passed away a few weeks ago from ovarian cancer and I’m sorry for springing this information on you but there is something else you need to know. When she died she left behind a son. Liam, he is your son.

***************

I’m using tags from my other TRR Series and adding other’s that I think would be interested in this series. Do let me know if you want to stay on the list. if you would like to be added or removed.

TRR/TRH - @charliejane-blog @dcbbw @hopefulmoonobject @cmestrella @pixieferry @lodberg @traeumerinwitzhelden @romanticatheart-posts @gnatbrain @the-soot-sprite @texaskitten30 @ao719 @desiree-0816 @emceesynonymroll @jessiembruno @kinkykingliam @jlpplays1 @annekebbphotography @thecordoniandiaries @cora-nova @rainbowsinthestorm @jessiembruno @leelee10898 @client-327 @kingliam2019 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @zaffrenotes

[askcarlyle]

[A contribution (in conjunction with @askbarnum) to FanFicFeb on @theothersidediscord for Prompt #1, "First Meeting". Edited from the live version, which took place on server last night.]

Carlyle

swirls the amber liquid in his glass and looks around the cozy tavern, which is almost packed to capacity with the majority of the troupe in attendance

Thank you all for being here tonight to celebrate our anniversary. If one can even call it that...

from behind the bar, a gruff voice issues -- "I've poured liquid courage at enough first dates to recognize one when I see it, fellas."

...right. As I saying, thank you for being here to mark the occasion of our first meeting...

Barnum

Downs the last half of his finger of whisky and elbows Phillip in the arm as Lettie pours him another

It was a date, not a meeting. We had drinks. I charmed you into coming away with me. Listen to the bartender. I planned that date for days.

Carlyle

frowns and tosses back drink before raising a hand to dispute

A "date" implies previously agreed upon arrangements by both parties. We hadn't ever spoken before that night. We hadn't even been in the same room before that night.

Barnum

Well before we entered the bar we spoke. I asked you if I could buy you a drink and you said yes, that was an agreement. It is the oldest method in the book for requesting someone's company on a date.

pokes another peanut into his mouth before tossing the shell at Fedor playfully. The other man tossing back a whole handful from the ones he was eating.

Drinks, small talk, seduction, then an agreement. You had been making eyes at me since the moment I introduced myself.

Carlyle

snorts and throws another peanut at Barnum

If that's what you call trying not to be blinded by your scarf's loud paisley pattern.

Barnum

frowns teasingly

Hey, that is my favourite scarf. You just don't appreciate real fashion. It is eye catching. Besides, who other than young children dressed by their mothers wears matching scarves and hats?

Sips his drink thoughtfully

I suppose admittedly while it might have taken a few drinks and some charming words to seduce you, you had me wooed much faster. From the moment I spotted you at my daughter's ballet recital.

Carlyle

coughs and puts down drink

Ballet recital? You don't mean that night at the concert hall with my cousin's dance academy...

God, their champagne was weak.

Barnum

Chuckles as he breaks open another peanut, waving a dismissive hand

Yes well, somehow I don't think they were trying to promote the parents and carers getting drunk. It was also 6pm when it finished and during the course of that evening I saw you down twelve glasses. Your mother looked very embarrassed, it was more entertaining to watch than the company I was forced to socialise with.

Carlyle

ducks head at the memory, both in amusement and bemusement

Admittedly, I can't recall much about that night's attendance or who I spoke to. You were really there?

Barnum

Tosses the peanut in his mouth, keeping his eyes on the other with a teasing grin

Of course I was. It was Caroline's first recital, she had the lead in the first and third number. I spotted you at the afterparty, you did rather stick out like a sore thumb. The only man in the place under 35 I'd wager. Took no more than a few moments to figure you out; single man with no kids, you were dressed up too smartly to not have a career and yet it couldn't have been anything extremely well paid because you seemed to be living with your parents. Alcohol problem, and you looked bored.

That is why I knew straight away you would be easy to snatch up as a business partner. Boredom is truly the worst illness a man can fall victim to, he would do anything for a cure.

Carlyle

raises an eyebrow

That sounds thoroughly disreputable when you phrase it like that. So it was a business meeting, you agree. And in turn, I will admit that it was difficult not stare too openly when you introduced yourself later. I'd thought the larger than life persona was only for the stage.

Barnum

That did sound a lot creepier coming from my mouth than I had expected. Perhaps that is enough drink for one evening.

Pushes his glass away with one finger. Turning his full attention to Phil

Whether intentional or not as a romantic affair, it was still very much a date. I was married. Things were complicated.

beams in pride at the comment, leaning back slightly on his stool

I am quite the diamond in the rough of the public. You had your charm too, it's not often that men have a bit of bite to them. You had the snark and attitude of a young me. Admittedly I think I was near as infatuated with you as you were of I by the end of the evening. Perhaps it was the alcohol but the way you danced and those tight trousers had me losing sleep for days afterwards.

Carlyle

glances at glass and puts it back down as well

If every offer of a drink I agreed to in life came with that intent, I would have been called something a lot harsher than scandalous.

considers

I suppose some interesting thoughts might have crossed my mind when you were up on that table. To be candid, I was half tempted to stuff a $5 note down your shirt and ask for an encore.

Barnum

Frowns, creasing his forehead

I am a businessman not a cheap street walker. I would have charged far more than $5 for an encore. Though if you had batted your eyelashes enough I may have offered you a complimentary lap dance.

Carlyle

laughs and leans into Barnum with grin

A paragon of self-respect and generosity! I swoon to consider what showing an ankle might have netted.

Barnum

puts a loving arm around Carlyle and presses a kiss to the top of his head

Do you have any idea how many laces and buckles are on these boots? It would have taken me a good fifteen minutes in that state of alcohol indulgence to have flashed you an ankle. You'd have gotten bored and lost interest before I had gotten through the first knot.

Carlyle

from behind the bar, the voice once again pipes up -- "Fifteen minutes would have been generous. You two fell over and passed out two minutes after shaking hands."

shoots bartender a warning look

I recall we danced for quite a bit after that. Didn't we? It's all a bit fuzzy.

Barnum

Squints thoughtfully

I am sure I distinctly remember getting up on the bar to do a celebratory dance with you. I think I was still quite within my limits. I wouldn't have passed out at the bar.

...Then again I am not sure I entirely remember getting home that evening. What I do remember is my hat smelling like vomit for days despite having no memory of being unwell. Perhaps some of the details of my recollection aren't entirely crystal clear.

Carlyle

bartender continues speaking "Mine are, unfortunately. You still haven't paid me back for getting those carpets cleaned, Barnum. And your friend there was slurring something about how your perfect harmonization during your duet was metatextually symbolic of your future relationship as a whole, whatever that means."

stares at bartender in confusion, then shrugs

Barnum

I am curious enough to want the truth from you and yet hesitant enough to ask whether you would deem it appropriate to share in front of my entire troupe.

Glances at his abandoned glass and makes the decision to pick it up again and down it in one go before locking eyes with the bartender once more

What other things was Mr Carlyle spouting that night?

Carlyle

turns to bartender, wide-eyed and suddenly uncertain

I can buy you much nicer carpets, you know.

Barnum

Beams in teasing excitement, putting a hand before Phillip's chest to push him back into his seat

The carpets will be paid for. Now tell me exactly word for word what Phillip said about me that night. Leave out no details.

Carlyle

New lamps. Gas ones.

Barnum

The bartender rolls his eyes, turning his back on them to keep scrubbing a glass. "You think I remember your interactions word for word? This was a long time ago , boys. I have hundreds of customers come through here, not just the two of you."

He puts down the glass, picking up another one "I remember you deciding on a deal between you both, and paying your tab. Mr Barnum tried to climb up on the bar and fell over the other side, then fell asleep on the floor behind the counter. Mr Carlyle did not seem to notice the disappearance of his friend and continued to talk to the empty seat next to him for a while, goodness knows what it was about. You did call him handsome a few times and it grew into a few less appropriate comments as you downed a last nightcap.

If I remember correctly, you both waltzed on my snooker table once Mr Barnum awoke, made a dreadful mess of my carpets, and the flowerpot I used to have in the corner, and the coat rack, and my only indoor lavatory, and then left. I believe Mr Barnum insisted on taking you back to his home."

Carlyle

scratches head

I do vaguely remember being tucked in, but thought was a dream.

glances around at the troupe, some of whom had been whispering amongst themselves

I'd like to see how precise any of your memories are after that many shots. I was barely able to walk the next day when we visited the circus.

Barnum

-Chuckles to himself cheerfully-

I do remember the next morning clearly enough. Charity woke me up with a bombardment of questions about why I came back at four in the morning carrying an unconscious Phillip Carlyle and put him to bed in the guest room, then passed out myself in the hallway. She was more amused than angry I think.

Refills his glass once more, then gives Phillip a friendly pat on the shoulder

You were on another planet that day. I don't think you took in a single word I said. It was very charming, you seemed to fall head over heels for Miss Wheeler and stumbled around like a bashful fawn all afternoon.

Brings his glass up for a toast

To eventful beginnings. I am so very glad you were seduced into joining me on that first date all that time ago.

Carlyle

holds up glass

To a very auspicious first encounter, and a night that we will never quite remember or forget.

fade to black

[theonewiththefanfics]

At Arm’s Length (part 2)

Part 1- Modern!AU

Part 3

Part 4

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: swearing, the usual stuff, bad editing, ‘m sorry

Word count: 2848

Quick PSA- if you liked Never The Friend please read Author’s Note :)

Throughout the next week, Y/N was just pure nerves. Bucky had called to remind Y/N to give him the colour of her dress so that they could match. But once the dreaded evening rolled around all the fear and anxiety turned into a sudden calmness. She couldn’t do anything about it, so why try and remedy it? Sure, Y/N could tell Bucky herself, that she was going to leave quite soon, but then again- the girl was a coward, unable to face the truth of the matter, unable to be the one to break his heart like that.   At six PM, right on the dot, her doorbell rang. The emerald green dress hugged her waist and curves, flailing out in a trail behind her as she opened the door. Bucky’s breath hitched when his blue eyes befell on the woman, his tie matching the exact shade of the fabric, while the cuffs of his jacket glimmered with the actual green gems.    “You look absolutely mesmerising,” after a good few seconds he breathed out.    “I-“ she was just about to rebuff, but relented. “Thank you, Bucky. You look amazing as well.”    “Trust me, I look nothing compared to you,” his eyes had settled on her face, complete awe overtaking his features. “Just… wow…”    They stood there like that, just gazing into one another until Y/N had to remind Bucky that there was an event they had to get to and they need to leave before it started.    He cleared his throat, swallowing away the nervousness.    “Shall we?” he extended her his elbow. Gently she looped her hand through his and made their way out of the apartment.    Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes off of the girl’s form. Her own Y/E/C orbs were trained to the city outside, lights blurring together in an indistinguishable mass as they whizzed through the streets in his Jaguar. Soft classical music filled the air, as neither spoke. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. With them it never was, though he did note a certain tension, an uneasiness oozing from Y/N, but he didn’t mention it. She was never one to talk much about her feelings, so if she wanted, she would. 

   It felt like they drove only for a couple of minutes when the driver announced that they were by the tower. Bucky hadn’t wanted the moment to end, but as the bright flashes momentarily blinded him from the open door, Y/N looked over and gave him a small smile.    “Let’s go. The crowd is waiting for you.”    “Love, when they see how gorgeous you are, no one will even care that I am there.”    Y/N suppressed the blush. When you know someone has feelings for you and you reciprocate, it’s quite hard to let comments like that simply let slip by.        “Yeah, well I’m not the most eligible bachelor in all of New York, so I highly doubt it.”    Bucky chuckled as the driver stepped aside and let the man climb out. The crowd went wild as did the photographers, calling out his name, and asking him to turn to pose. He extended his hand. It was his left one. The prosthetic. Y/N slid her palm into it and he firmly grasped hers, helping her out of the car.    He had lost his left arm in a horrible train accident. She hadn’t known about it for almost two years after it happened. Bucky and Steve had been on a university trip to Paris when there was a collision and the large machine had gone off the tracks. Miraculously enough the blond had stayed almost unscathed, only bruised his ribs and back, while Bucky hadn’t gotten out so easily.    It was only when they returned home, only when she met up with them years later did Y/N see that he was missing a limb.    “Yeah,” he had muttered, shrugging with the non-existent shoulder. “A thing happened.”        Her Y/E/C eyes were wide and mouth had gone completely dry. “A-a thing?” she whispered out. “You call losing your fucking arm a thing?!”    They had been out in public, her voice going higher and higher, almost to the point of hysterics, so Bucky stepped closer and one-armedly pulled the girl to his chest.    “Hey, don’t worry. I’m fine. It happened a while ba…”    Suddenly, it wasn’t worry and shock on her face, but pure white-hot rage.    “A while back?” she gritted out. “How long is a while back?”    Steve had seen the pleading look in his best friend’s eyes. “Why don’t we go grab a coffee?” he tried to interject, placing a palm on Y/N’s lower back. “We have so much to catch up on.”    “Yeah,” she sneered, not breaking the eye contact with Bucky. “We have a lot of stuff to catch up on.”    Bucky could only nervously smile and gulp.    Now, looking at what his accident had motivated him to achieve, Y/N felt proud of her best friend. The 'Barnes and Rogers' prosthetics company was the best of the best, having collaborated with many businesses and done many campaigns, most notably, creating durable, high-quality artificial limbs for soldiers and children.    She had been notably upset that Bucky nor Steve had decided to share their accident, even giving them the silent treatment for almost a month, but it was when the brown-haired beauty stood on her doorstep, tears in his eyes, two large pizzas in palm and a bag of all her favourite movies and snacks slung across his back, did Y/N finally relent and forgive them.    The woman was pulled out of her thoughts as the cool metal wove across her back and firmly pressed her body to Bucky’s side.    “Told you no one would care for me,” he muttered into her hair, bright flashes illuminating the pair.    He pressed a kiss to her head and smiled at the crowd, the photographers and interviewers shouting ‘are you two a couple’, ‘who is the lovely lady’ and ‘you look perfect together’.    They moved across the red carpet, the shimmering green of her dress contrasting the red in the most complimentary way, a hand-woven around Bucky’s middle, as to help them move along and also not trip over her own feet from the anxiety flowing through her body. She was sure he could hear her erratic heartbeat even over the roar of people; see the way he actually affected her. But Bucky didn’t comment on it. Only firmly held her and rubbed soothing circles on her side. It felt so right to the girl. To be with him like this. So close, moulded together and leaning into one another’s bodies. Yet the second Y/N was ready to allow herself get lost in his touch and scent, to maybe try this thing out between them, the fact that she had only a month left in New York before flying over to Spain and staring a life there- it was an instant and the walls were back up again.    Bucky leaned in closer, his cologne intoxicating Y/N’s senses, making her just burn with the need to bury her nose in the crook of his neck.    “I have to go talk to some of the reporters, but I’ll be right back.”    Y/N chuckled. “What will I ever do without you?”    The girl would probably later on regret allowing him to lean in and press a kiss to the corner of her lips, especially when this whole thing was being televised, but when they brushed against hers, so so close, she almost fully turned her head to pull his mouth flush against hers.    She looked at his form retreat. Bucky looked over at the girl and gave her a wink with that signature smirk of his accompanying it.    “Careful, Y/N,” suddenly Wanda’s voice was right next to her. “Or it will seem like you have finally stopped being stupid, admitted your feelings and have opened up a door to happiness.”    “Oh, hush up, Wan,” she pushed her shoulder. “You know nothing will happen. Not after tonight,” she mumbled looking down at the designer shoes adorning her feet.    “You still haven’t told him?” the redhead threw a smile at the photographers and pushed the long locks over her shoulder.    “He’s gonna find out tonight anyway, so what’s the point?”    “The point is,” Wanda turned to face Tony’s secretary, “that you two are in love. Everybody can see that, yet you seem to be too stubborn to allow yourself at least a chance.”    “I leave for Spain in a month. There is nothing worth trying out. I don’t want either of us to end up with a broken heart and our friendship to evaporate. I care too much about him to let that happen.” Y/N’s eyes were trained on the man’s back, as he talked with a blonde interviewer, the both laughing at something one of them had said.    Wanda huffed in defeat and gave her friend’s bicep a soft squeeze.    “I hope you know what you’re doing.”    With that she left Y/N, her gaze trailing behind the woman.    “I hope so too.”

   The tower was decorated beyond belief, but then again it was Tony Stark we’re talking about- the expert in lavish parties.    Y/N’s hand immediately grabbed a champagne glass from one of the waiters and she chugged it, a little bit of the bubbles coming back up her nose, but the girl didn’t care, taking another one almost immediately after.        “Slow down, doll. We have the whole night ahead of us,” Bucky’s gruff voice invaded her ears from behind, and he pressed a swift kiss to the crown of her head.    “Shouldn’t you find Steve?” Y/N looked around, eyes shifting to everything and everyone except Bucky.    As if on cue the last part of their unbreakable trio showed up, wrapping Y/N in a bone-crushing hug.    “Can’t- breathe,” she wheezed out, feeling as if he truly was about to break her ribs in half.    “I don’t care,” Steve muttered in Y/N’s hair. “I haven’t seen you in almost two weeks.”    “Mhm,” when he finally put her down, she turned around to look at him. “And whose fault is that?”    He had grown out a beard, his hair was slicked back and combed, but what really made Y/N’s mouth fall agape was the woman on his arm.        “I guess it was mine?” she awkwardly chuckled, the British accent fluttering through the air, as the Y/H/C haired girl practically tackled her.    “Holy shit, what the hell are you doing here?” Y/N cupped the woman’s cheeks. “Are you really here? Please tell me I’m not imagining this.”    “You’re not,” Peggy smiled and put her arms around her friend’s neck.    “I missed you so much. Thank the fuck, Steve got his head out of his ass.”    A soft ‘Hey!’ could be heard from next to them, but neither paid attention. Because it was true. Peggy had been his most stable girlfriend since high school, having been part of an exchange program, she was in the same class as the trio and became fast friends. Then things sorta had fallen apart between the two, Steve going to Yale and Peggy back to England. But now, it seemed the two had reconciled. And Y/N couldn’t be happier about it even if she tried.    Her brown hair was in perfect curls, almost reminding Y/N of how girls did their hair in the 40’s, but it suited her perfectly complimenting the deep burgundy dress just right.    “Can’t say that I disagree,” she eyed Steve from the side, who threw back his head, a ‘Lord-help-me’ look on his face, Bucky laughing next to him and patting his friend on the shoulder. “Though he did get his head out of his ass enough to do this”    At first, Y/N didn’t understand what Peggy was referring to until freshly manicured fingers were being wiggled in front of her face and there on the ring finger sat a platinum band with a giant diamond in the middle of it.        “Fucking finally!” Y/N exclaimed and hugged her even more ferociously. The four remained like that in their own little bubble, that was filled with nothing but love and care until Tony Stark gathered everyone’s attention, as he stood on the stage.    Bucky once again settled his palm on Y/N’s hip, but it did more than set her skin ablaze and heart racing. It also pulled her out of the safety she had felt while not thinking of what tonight was all about.    “Thank you all for joining us at ‘Stark Industries’ today. As you all are well aware, so many rumours have been floating around on what this occasion is all about, so here I am about to put this all to rest. Firstly,” he raised a glass of champagne in Pepper’s direction, “I want to thank my beautiful wife for tolerating me throughout these years and dealing with my shit.”    “Language!” Steve hollered, eliciting laughter from everyone in the crowd.    “Watch it, Rogers!” Tony smirked in his direction. “But tonight is more than me or Mrs Stark. Tonight is a celebration of ‘Stark Industries as a whole. None of this would be possible without each and every engineer, secretary, assistant, press rep and so on and so forth. Tonight we celebrate growth and expansion.”    Murmurs could be heard from everyone around and Y/N’s hand grabbed her champagne a bit tighter.    “I know all of you are excited and as much as I love the suspense I will cut right to the chase- it is my great pleasure to announce that ‘Stark Industries’ shall be opening up a branch not only in LA, to help out with our Latin American production, but for the first time ever we shall be opening a branch in Europe.”    Cheers of appraisal exploded, but Y/N could hear nothing as Tony continued on and said those last words she’d been dreading for more than two months.    “And the Spain extension shall be run by none other than the one person who probably knows about this business more than me or Pepper- my incredible secretary, now assistant director of ‘Stark Industries International’- Y/N Y/L/N.”

   Bucky’s eyes studied Y/N's face. They were roaming over her like she was a stranger in a friend’s body. “When were you going to tell me?”    Her eyes looked down at the floor in shame. “A day before I left.”    “What?” Bucky whispered out. “Why?”    “Because I know you, Buck,” Y/N exasperated, “I know you’d try to convince me to stay.”    “Of course, I would! How can I not, when only recently I got my best friend back! When I got my shit together by finally realising how in love with you I am!”    “Don’t” Y/N backed away, “don’t say that.”    “Say what? That I love you? That I know you feel the same?”    His large palms cupped her cheeks, but Y/N turned her head to the side.    “Because I know you do. And now I know that you didn’t reject me because you didn’t. Y/N, I don’t care that we now have only a month. I want to spend as much time together as possible, to show you how much I truly care in the time that we have here. And long distance doesn’t mean a thing, I know we can manage-“    “Buck-“    “I’ll fly out every week if I have to-“    “Bucky-“    “You’ll come to visit-“    “Bucky-“ her voice became more instant.    “We’ll work it out. I’m not ready to los-“    “Bucky!”    His chest was panting like he had just run a marathon, warm palms still resting on her cheeks, foreheads pressed together.    “I can’t do that,” she whispered, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.    “Of course, you can.”    “No,” she shook her head. “I said no all those times because I’m not about to start something I can’t finish, I’m not about to string you along on a ride that will abruptly end when I step on that plane. You say we can do long distance, but I can’t. College was hard enough without having you around. And we were just friends then. I’m not gonna be able to do it if we’re involved. If we’re more than that. And I won’t be the reason you start hating me.”    “I could NEVER,” he emphasised the word, “hate you.”    “But you would.” She looked him dead in the eyes, “you’d start to despise me, hate that I’m not around. The time zones wouldn’t help either and then, in the end, you’d look for comfort in someone else’s arms.”    “Please don’t say that,” he was teary-eyed at this point mirroring Y/N’s own expression. “What if- fine- okay... you don’t wanna do long distance. Then I’ll wait. Until you come back. Or better yet,” it was like a Christmas tree lit up in his mind, “I’ll go with you.”    “No,” Y/N backed away, horrified, “I’m not going to let you throw away your whole life Bucky! Not because of me.”    He grasped her palm in his, a tight and firm hold on her fingers. “And I won’t let you give up on what we could have.

Tags (crossed out means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you): @impalatobakerstreet @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @mrsalh32611 @slender--spirit @janineabad @salty-buchanan @chrisevans1fan @dyanna-corona @chook007 @lost-and-wandering-alone @goalie-love @nerdgirljen @jediviolet @fandomly-writings @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @lumelgy @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @palaiasaurus64 @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @pizzarollpatrol @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl

A/N: so I have received a few messages about wanting a part 2 to Never The Friend. What do you guys think? Should I write it? Actually, I’m sorta in the middle of writing it, but I don’t know if I wanna post it or nah. Let me know if you’d like to read it :))

P.S. if you wanna be tagged or have any requests, drop a message, please :)

P.S.S. feedback is always appreciated 

P.S.S.S. please don’t repost without credit :)

[elfenbensord]

Stopping Time With Champagne

Imagine 2: Stopping Time With Champagne

Summary: Reader goes to dinner with friends, and quickly learns how to stop time.

Pairing: Gender Neutral!Reader x Newt Scamander

Warnings: Newt? Scamander? (What more needs to be said??) and only 50 % edited.

Word count: 1548

Credits to me, J K Rowling and Eddie Redmayne.

[Written: 21-22 Oct, Edited: 22 Oct, Published: 22 Oct / 28 May, 18]

[2017]

Update: Oh lord, now we’re approaching the old ones... geeezeee what is this

Masterlist / Requests

The quiet chatter of the surrounding couples drowned out all silences, making every moment cling with sound. In the ceiling hung glittering chandeliers, casting a glistening light through the thin champagne glasses. My lipstick left a red print on the crystal surface of the glass in my hand, and I smiled as I felt how the bubbly alcohol entered my body. My good friends, the Goldstein sisters, Jacob the Muggle and Newt, were seated around the table, all merrily talking. I straightened out my dress, a cream-coloured thing covered with white sequences, and tried to engage in their conversation. It was about something that had happened at MACUSA, and I couldn’t care less about it. I turned my attention to the boy sitting on the other side of the table from me. He didn’t seem very interested in their discussion, and he did as I; zoned in and out, focused on the lights of the chandeliers, watched how the waiters walked with broad steps as they served the top of society. Newt remained mostly quiet, as always, and his glance was all over the place.

It’d been Queenie’s idea to drag us all out of the flat, or the magic case, for Newt and I’s part. She’d made a ridiculously expensive booking at an upper-class restaurant, and then forced us all into ridiculously fancy suits and dresses. I didn’t mind too much, the heavy work at the Ministry leaving me exhausted every evening of the week. It was nice with a change, a distraction, for once. It was nice to not dine by my own, but the dress felt itchy and uncomfortable, and the others didn’t seem to have any intentions of leaving any time soon.

I carefully stood up, my chair making a dulled sound against the carpeted floor as I pushed it out from the table. “I’m sorry”, I murmured, leaving my napkin by my empty plate. “I just need some air.”

The only one who’d heard me was Newt, who gave me a look and nodded. I flashed him a quick smile, before turning around to make my way out of the crowded room.

The chilly air hit me like the brick wall to Platform 9 and ¾, and I quickly wrapped my arms around my bare shoulders to create some warmth. “Damn it… Should’ve brought my coat”, I muttered and leaned onto one of the brick walls of the restaurant’s exteriors. I tried to ignore how the brick’s uneven surface dug into my skin by letting my thoughts wander, as I looked up at the star-covered sky. I thought about Newt: About Newt’s freckled face. About Newt’s uneven way of walking beside me, as we strolled down the streets. About Newt sometimes catching my glance, even though he rarely made eye-contact with anyone. I realised how I wasn’t freezing anymore; the thought of the Hufflepuff starting a small fire inside of me, warming me.

“How beautiful your smile is”, a voice, his voice, quietly said.

I quickly turned around to see Newt, his black bow tie slightly loosened up. “Oh”, my breath formed a white trail of smoke, “Hi, Newt.”

We become silent, the two of us distracting ourselves with the stars above our heads. Catching a few glances when the silence started to get too much, I could feel the blush rising to my cheeks. If the thought of Newt started a fire in me, then the real Newt started exploding fireworks.

“Are you…”, Newt began, watching his feet as he changed his weight from one foot to another. “Are you alright?”

“Of course”, I blew out another smoke-trail, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know.” Newt looked at me, his eyes gleaming even without the lights of the chandeliers. “Sometimes people aren’t okay, how lovely their mind may be.”

His words could’ve left a sense of something poetic in me, but I was distracted by the flashing, red signs saying “OH MY GOD IS HE FLIRTING WITH ME?”. (“Lovely mind” isn’t really what I’d describe that as, but I was okay with whatever.)

“Are you freezing? Should we go inside again?” Newt looked at, concern filling his eyes.

“No, it’s fine. I’d rather stay here with you.” I smiled shyly, peeking up at him. My cheeks were red, and I was grateful for the shadows around us. “Our friends can get a little too much sometimes, if you get what I mean.”

He nodded, laughing a little as he turned to me. “Yeah, yeah. I get you.”

“You always do, Newt. You understand me like nobody else does”, I ended in a whisper, not daring to meet his eyes. I’d just exposed a part of me to him, and I was terrified of how he’d react. Breathing carefully, I looked up at the stars again. They knew their place in the sky, and I found myself feeling jealous for their certainness. They knew where they were supposed to be, and I didn’t. To be jealous of celestial beings was something I wasn’t expecting when I woke up that morning.

“You understand me, too, even though I’m the most impossible being to be around.” He stopped to laugh a little. When he met my eyes, I could feel how chills ran down my spine. “You’re amazing, you do know that, don’t you?”

I couldn’t answer him, too much in awe to make my mouth move. My face felt warm, and I couldn’t remember how I was freezing before. It was practically boiling, or was that just me? “Stop it”, I laughed softly, “You’re making me blush.”

“Then I’ve accomplished my mission”, Newt stated simply and smiled a bright smile. He put his hands in his pockets, weighing from foot to foot. After a long silence, he said: “I don’t suppose you’d mind if I kissed you?”

This made my heart race, and I wondered if I was dreaming. Coming to the conclusion that this probably was a dream, the best dream I’d ever have in the entirety of my life, I blinked a few times and breathed deep. “I wouldn’t mind much at all, actually.”

“Great, that makes the next bit a whole lot easier.”

Newt gently took a hold of my waist, and carefully leaned me towards the brick wall I’d become so familiar with this night. I looked at him with big eyes, and wondered how my red lipstick would look when smeared all over Newt’s lips. He slowly leaned in, still gazing into my eyes. I wondered if I should consciously close my eyes, or if that would just come naturally when the kiss happened. There were so many things I’d never learned that you were just supposed to know. What do you do with your hands? And when do you stop?

This is taking an awful time, someone voiced in the back of my head. Newt had stopped, his face close enough for my knees to feel weak. The world seemed to stop, and there was only Newt and I, and the stars above us.

“Oh, bloody hell”, I breathed, before leaning forward and connecting our lips. Electricity sparked through me as I could feel how Newt gently tugged at my hair. I responded by pulling him closer by the collar of his navy trench coat. All I’d wanted for months was Newt – and here he was, and he was my everything.

And just like that, time started to tick again. I could almost hear the clock’s tick-tock, tick-tock. Newt grinned at me, his cheeks tinted with a heavy red. I felt more confident than I had in weeks, and the smile wouldn’t leave my lips.

“Are you ready to go back now?” He licked his lips, and leaned away from me. My shoulders started to go cold again, and I clasped my arms around myself to stop the chilly night-air from eating into my skin. Newt saw me, and quickly shrugged off his coat. He cocked his eyebrows and offered it to me, his eyes wide as ever. The warmth of Newt’s body hadn’t left the interior of the jacket, and my skin was soon bubbling again.

Breathing in through my nose, I whispered “Yeah, ok. Let’s go back”, and nodded, still a small smile playing on my lips.

Newt opened the glass door and waited for me to enter. He smiled at me, his eyes twinkling in the lights. I could see how Queenie, Tina and Jacob waved at us to come there from their table. They didn’t know how Newt and I had stopped time. They didn’t know that the red on our cheeks weren’t only because of the cold. They didn’t know how the stars had opened up in a smile above us, as Newt ran his fingers through my hair.

I smiled at the thought of all I knew that they didn’t know, and slowly turned to Newt, after waving meekly at Tina. “Kiss me.”

“Here? In front of everybody?” He smirked, looking at me with lustful eyes.

“Just kiss me.” I pulled him closer as I connected our lips, very well aware of how the whole restaurant, including our friends, could see us through the windows and glass doors. We stopped time twice in an evening, and that was only the beginning.

---

KILL ME I HATE THIS I’M NOT EVEN GONNA ADD THE TAGLIST YUCK

[wendyimmiller]

Don’t Give Too Much Away Too Soon – A Letter to the Midwest

April 15, 2021

Lovettsville VA

Dear Scott,

Spring! Etc. etc.

What a relief.  I am torn between feeling overwhelmed each morning, and tearful gratitude. However, finding a new colony of native may apples where I winter-dispatched a thicket of multiflora rose may have soundly tipped the scales towards gratitude. Those mottled, delicate umbrellas took me by total surprise this morning – especially as they appeared to have been professionally underplanted with a carpet of claytonia.

Try not to pay attention to the honeysuckle. It’s a never ending battle.

Isn’t it ridiculous that I can hunt for, locate, plant, and cosset a Podophyllum pleianthum (which is now tentatively emerging near the front door), but when I rip out brambles by the roots and trample the soil to within an inch of its life, suddenly I’ve got April at Mt. Cuba happening on my northern slope?  Perhaps I should give up all future expensive podophyllum acquisition dreams and just focus on what I’m apparently good at: editing. 

My cossetted P. pleianthum – making a late-ish entrance to a party well underway.

I find it fascinating that each spring unfolds with its own unique rhythm – some mellow, others not so. This spring’s rhythm reminds me of an underground prohibition-era bar in NYC I used to visit when I was younger and less protective of my sleep patterns: slow build-up, exciting jazz riffs, a little blues, and no punishing jazz fusion. There has also been plenty of opportunity to sip a top-shelf G&T.  All in all, worth lingering a while in the evenings and ordering a second.

Along with the common-as-dirt may apples I attach a few poor photos of my rapidly growing epimedium collection (minus my two faves – ‘Amber Queen’ and ‘Pink Champagne’ which are just coming out). Watching these delicate flowers emerge thrills me in that same way I used to bemusedly observe in other (more obviously nerdy) plant nerds.

This one was given to me as ‘Lilac Seedling’ from John Willis.

How we find ourselves where we find ourselves I honestly do not know. I was normal once. I assume that, to a certain extent, you were too. Yet here we are, sharing photos of epimedium, claytonia and hellebore while the rest of the world is buying a new Weber and three sacks of Weed and Feed.

Epimedium x versicolor ‘Sulphureum’ is my cheapest and most cheerful. When it is regularly dug and divided you can have a huge carpet rather quickly.

I enjoyed your Easter letter and its tasteless but nonetheless amusing resurrection analogies; but I harbor concerns that illustrating your gargantuan, drain-digging labors in such Kafkaesque detail could be very off-putting for the 20+ million who garden-dabbled in 2020.

I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job as an award-winning garden writer (groan) and purveyor of unending green happiness, but perhaps these people shouldn’t be made so soon aware of the inexorable, destructive effects of the humble water droplet?

Maybe it’s not an issue as 19+ million of them are probably reading The Spruce and haven’t yet moved on to the Rant portion of their gardening lives, but for those who have read ahead in the curriculum, truth of such magnitude could shake a few foundations. And damn that was some serious truth.

We only have these people by the finest of hairs Scott. Right now you should be YouTubing the immeasurable joys of seed starting with a fixed, but generous, smile upon your face and a sponsored product somewhere within arms’ reach.  Let these sweet innocents find out about water, and its revengeful, spiteful nature later in the process when there is no escape from the gardening life they have worthily embraced.  They can learn about roots then too.

Bait and switch my dear. Bait and switch.

This is a sweet little epimedium given to me by Lindie Wilson in Charlotte last year. Glad to see it blooming.

However, as the damage is now done, I will admit that for the rest of us, it is a relief to hear of your suffering. Moreover, it is a relief to hear of you jumping into a job of that magnitude.  I wonder how many others are daily tortured not so much by the undertaking of large home and garden projects, but by their identification and the accompanying dread of them.  I can instantly think of three projects that sink the heart in me, and that’s without trying.

Once stuck in, there are moments of pure despair (as you so richly illustrated), but there is also the knowledge that, for better or worse, you got started.   It’s happening. What is worth worrying about must be solved, and what isn’t disappears into that dark and dangerous place one only visits at 2am (instead of that underground bar – sadly).  All of the ambiguity and worry about the particulars is crystallized into certainty. 

Cannot remember where this one came from – and no name sadly – but it is a lovely orange flower paired with a rather boring leaf.

I wish you luck and less in the way of roots. If this letter had an envelope, I’d slip you one of my precious lidocaine patches – or is that technically drug dealing?

With regards to roots, I have spent much of the last three weeks moving shrubs which are too big for the space where I planted them seven years ago, to spaces which will be too small for them in seven years. 

An SI joint and my lower back have been so dodgy for the last year that I am forced to do this wearing a constricting belt that limits my ability to move without cutting off circulation to a major artery.  The resulting lightheadedness then limits my ability to make better decisions about spacing – or at least that’s how I will look at it in seven years’ time.

It is a blow to one’s vanity to look down and see such a contraption strapped around comfortable and generous sweatpants where levis and leather belts with bronze buckles once dwelt, but if it gets the itea shifted and the lilac finally scrubbed out, I must accept my personal new normal while I undertake a hideous strengthening program that is right, and good, and boring as hell.

Speaking of itea and lilac, one mistake I am never (yes, I use that word precisely) making again is to put a heavily suckering woody shrub anywhere other than an area where I am happy to have it sucker (such as along my streambank).

This cuts down on a lot of options for mixed borders – but there are plenty of less enthusiastic shrubs whose rarer suckers still excite the frugal wench within me.  Runners from my rugosa roses for example. I never grumble as they provide cheap, cheerful, and exceedingly welcome gifts for new gardeners who have never attempted to prune one.

Look at this lovely thing – Iris bucharia blooming this morning through the little gray rosettes of pilosella.

The lilac wasn’t my doing – it was here when we moved, and I have held onto it for sentimental reasons as I had a fondness for the previous owners, Lloyd & Jeanne.  I even called it Lloyd’s lilac, when the truth of the matter is that Lloyd probably didn’t plant it, and if he did, didn’t put any more thought into it than what he was having for dinner that night.  Still, it was one of few cultivated plants on the property, and I felt I must nurture it, renovate it, and tactfully avert my eyes as it became more matronly and less maiden-like.

I trust you will offer me the same consideration when we next meet.

But this is the year. Strengthened by Dan Hinkley’s admonition in Windcliff not to plant a “meaningless blob of nothing to fill a gap” and extrapolating from there to include eradicating those inherited monsters that do the same, I decided to take it out. With my handy battery-operated chainsaw it was the work of an Ibruprofen-laced moment, but now I am faced with this large stump complex. And my back. And another one of those large digging jobs whose contemplation brings me full circle to my points above. 

Yet the job must be done. The space is slated for a Chamaecyparis obtusa that has gracefully grown too large for its current spot. In my defense I always knew it would, but wanted it where it was for that gorgeous five-year window of perfect height. You are a lover of trees so I know you know exactly what I am talking about.  Trees go from small-and-helpless, to perfect, to too-damn-big the same way as children do – though thankfully they don’t have adolescent mouths on them.  

Lastly, with the exception of the bananas, the tropicals are out of the garage and into hacked-together temporary cold frames for the next couple weeks. The spring has crept up on me quickly this year. And with the vegetable/kitchen garden undergoing a major re-do which will most likely take all season, I have not started seeds as I normally would. 

It is exceptionally freeing and I highly recommend it. 

I cannot get enough of this time of year once the claytonia start blooming. They are absolutely everywhere.

I have started many thousands of seeds over the years and I’m sure there are thousands more in my future, but I realize these days that I actually prefer the excitement of cuttings.  It’s ironic to get excited about asexual techniques, but there you go, that’s middle age for you. Are you a seeds or a cuttings man do you think? You may answer freely – I promise that I won’t draw any moral conclusions (at least consciously).

Here is an unusual one (at least for around here) that sports pink flowers, rather than just pink veining and pink pollen.

I must stop before some horrible dystopian software alerts you that this letter is more than a “four minute read,” (thank God Tolkien and Tolstoy weren’t bloggers), but before I do, I can assure you that, yes, the word used to describe you in that email was indeed ‘treasure.’ The term has even been repeated and shared on Facebook, and therefore cannot possibly be considered misinformation, as apparently, they’ve got that sort of thing squarely locked down.

However, before you alert various media companies, shamelessly looking for yet another award (and you wonder why someone at work is being mean to you), I will pass on a wise bit of advice that I heard recently:

If you don’t let compliments go to your head, insults cannot pierce your heart. 

Wise indeed as there is usually a hefty supply of the latter to negotiate in this life.

Yours,

Marianne

P.S.  Please tell Michele she looked beautiful in that dress. Easter personified.

P.P.S.  My long overdue author copies of Tropical Plants and How to Love Them finally arrived today!              It’s a treasure. Possibly award-winning.

Don’t Give Too Much Away Too Soon – A Letter to the Midwest originally appeared on GardenRant on April 15, 2021.

The post Don’t Give Too Much Away Too Soon – A Letter to the Midwest appeared first on GardenRant.

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[olicitysmoaky]

TINSELTOWN (1/?) -- an Olicity fic for your summer reading pleasure.

Read and follow on AO3

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

Felicity Smoak’s childhood best friend, Barry Allen, invited her to the party of the year.  Thrilled it was only twenty minutes away from her apartment, Felicity had to force herself to be calm. She was a fangirl through and through – even if none of her favorite actors from Dr. Who were likely to be in attendance.

They entered the foyer, the Shrine Auditorium's vintage chandeliers glowing overhead. Hand-painted forest green vines wrapped around the columns along the walls, and a deep crimson carpet jetted out before them, leading into the massive ballroom.

"The Governor's Ball, Barry," said Felicity, referring to the famous Academy Awards after party. They used to watch clips - on television with their other best friends Iris, Caitlin, Cisco and Thea. "You’ve been talking about this since you were eight-years-old. Why don't you look more excited?"

The young independent film director shrugged, smirking a bit at his old friend. "Yeah, well."

"Yeah, well, what? You've arrived. Be proud of yourself," said Felicity, pushing the black spaghetti strap that had been plaguing her all evening back onto her shoulder. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulder in perfect corkscrews that had yet to fall out of place by some miracle, so she supposed a wayward spaghetti strap could be construed as something to be grateful for.

Barry chuckled. "Well, I was here last year as a guest, but this is a little different."

"Exactly. Now, I'm your guest," she said, straightening out his bow tie and smoothing down his jacket at the shoulders. "C'mon, let's find our table."

The tables appeared to be in sort of a zigzag formation, allowing every couple to sit side by side in the romantically lit room. Felicity was happy for Barry. He had worked hard, and even though his film had only been nominated for best editing and had subsequently lost, it had won many other accolades on the independent film circuit this season. The proverbial Hollywood door seemed to need a secret incantation to open it, but Barry managed to make his way through it. And what was on the other side? Rubber chicken dinners and rubber-faced movie stars, his dream come true. Felicity, on the other hand, was over it before it had even started. She'd come out here to find a real life, and maybe meet the right guy. She’d become a lawyer with a penchant for being really good at tech, though it wasn’t what she’d studied in college. She enjoyed her life. Though she did long for someone to be by her side, a real companion. She certainly didn't want a phony rubber face to fill the job.

Dinner had not been tasteless and neither had the wine. In fact, Felicity was on her third glass when Barry tapped her shoulder.  "So, would you like to go mingle for the rest of the night, or do you want to stick close to me?" Barry asked.

Felicity bit her perfectly painted red lip and scanned the room. It was glitzy. Everyone was too beautiful. But it was nothing she couldn't handle alone. "I think I'd like to mingle. Meet you back here in an hour?"

"Perfect,” said Barry as he slid off to chat with a couple cast members from his movie.

Felicity took a deep breath, glancing down at her sleek black dress. It made her feel freer yet more exposed than the power suits she wore to work. She made her way over to the champagne. That might help ease her nerves.

The night went on. Movie stars, local politicians, agents, directors, producers, and friends all spun around in drunken elated stupors. Felicity had been pulled on the dance floor by a dark ginger-haired olive-toned celebrity with gorgeous blue eyes. She couldn't for the life of her think of his name, of course.

"You are so hot, Felicity. I just love that name. Felicity..." He pressed himself up against her as she gyrated her ass along his lower region.

Felicity frowned. "It's not really that unique. Maybe not super common like Mary or Elizabeth, but it’s still pretty run-of-the-mill."

The man didn’t seem to take in her babble one bit as a slow smile spread across his face. "Felicity…" he purred again, wrapping his arms around her waist as the song slowed.

***

"Wow, Oliver Queen. I can't believe I'm seeing you here!" Barry beamed. "Of all places to find you, man."

"I am an agent now, Barry." Oliver laughed. "I do, on occasion, get invited to things like this." Oliver shook his head at one his sister’s oldest friend, who’d become like a brother to him growing up.

"I can't believe I had no idea."

Oliver shrugged. Barry was in a different world than he was. New York, indie films, sometimes commercial work. Oliver, whose once billionaire family was now living on dwindling trust funds, left home at twenty-one and never looked back. With only twenty-thousand dollars in his bank account, he got his own place and made his own way in Hollywood. Of course, Oliver still had the Queen name and the Queen unfairly good looks. It wasn’t too difficult for Oliver to make it through the right doors once he proved he had nothing to do with the family scandal. Nearly a decade had passed since then and was becoming a high roller in his own right. He was surprised that Barry hadn't heard he was in Hollywood. Though he hadn’t told anyone where he was going when he left Starling except his sister, who’d he’d sworn to secrecy, Oliver knew how close Thea was to Barry and her childhood friends. Thea had grown up to be different than Barry in a lot of ways, but she’d always said the ones who have your back on the playground are the ones you can count on in the battlefield of life. Thea and Barry were seven years younger than Oliver and two years younger than Barry’s oldest friend and neighbor, Felicity.  Felicity. A name that was rarely far from his thoughts. A name that belonged to a face he hadn’t seen in far too long. But they were grown up now, different people. He’d moved on. She had, too, he was sure. "You know, we should get together for drinks some time before you go back to New York,” Oliver said congenially. Though he was happy with his new life in Los Angeles, he missed the old days sometimes.

"Oh my God. I completely forgot, Oliver. Felicity..."

Oliver froze, his heartbeat quickening. "What about Felicity? Is she okay?" Why had he asked that? What was wrong with him? Of course, she was okay. Why wouldn’t she be okay?

Barry shrugged and twisted his mouth in thought then said, "Well, that remains to be seen."

Concern colored Oliver's features, and he pushed down the urge to grab Barry by the lapels of his tux and demand he make himself clear.

"I didn’t mean it like that, Oliver,” Barry said. “It's just that I brought her here as my plus-one tonight. She lives in Los Angeles now, actually. Anyway, I haven't seen her for a few hours now."

"Felicity? Here?" Oliver's mouth went dry and for the first time in a long time, he felt completely and utterly unsure of himself. And she lived where? “She lives here? She’s here tonight?”

“Yeah. I’m sure she’d love to see you. If I ever find her, I’ll send her over to say hello. That is unless you find her first.”

Oliver opened and closed his mouth, not sure of what to say until finally his brain worked well enough to allow him to put on a relaxed smiled and tell Barry, “I’d love that. I’ll be here for a while.”

***

"Mmmm, Oliver...", Maureen Anders slinked up behind him, running her hand up his broad back and resting it on his shoulder. "I miss you," the tall red-headed model whispered in his ear.

"Maureen." Oliver pulled her hand gently, so that she was standing beside him. "I'd like you to meet my old friend, Barry Allen."

She smiled, running her finger along Barry’s lapel. "Any gorgeous friend of Oliver's is a friend of mine. Would you like to dance?"

"Actually, I was just going to find my date."

Oliver cringed at those words, knowing that the word date was meant for Felicity Smoak. Were they together now? Barry had always been linked to Iris. But he had no idea if that had lasted. He shook the thought from his mind and focused on the more solid piece of information he’d just discovered. She was living in Los Angeles. For how long, he wondered. "I'll go and find her for you, Barry. I'd love to say hi. I haven't seen her since Tommy and Laurel’s wedding..."

"Seven years ago." Barry laughed. "Go find her. She'll be glad to see you. Just make sure to come and tell me she's okay after you do."

"Will do. Thanks, Barry."

Oliver's eyes scoured the crowded ballroom for any sign of the beautiful face he once tried so hard to convince himself he no longer loved. The face that sat in the middle of the slightly worn photograph he carried around his wallet. He just never could seem to part with it. She'd meant too much to him to stash her in a drawer and forget.

***

Felicity stepped away from her dance partner breathless. "Whoa. I think I just might need a breather."

Chad, she'd found out was his name when someone came over and introduced themselves in the middle of one of their slow dances.

Chad kissed her cheek and gently held her arm. "Don't go, baby." He kissed her behind the ear.

Felicity looked around the room for Barry when her eyes fell on a strangely familiar face. She quickly turned to Chad. "Do you know that guy, standing over there by that pillar?"

"What?" Chad was disoriented and slightly drunk.

"That guy!" Felicity pointed through the crowd when the man's eyes locked on hers.

"Oh, yeah. That's Oliver Queen. He's my girlfriend's agent."

Felicity turned back to him with a wry smile on her face. "Girlfriend, huh?"

Chad shrugged. "She has the flu."

"Mmm hmm," Felicity said.

"What do you know him or something?"

Felicity turned back around, hoping to God, he hadn't disappeared. Of course, he had. She was stupid to have broken eye contact. "I used to know him."

"Used to know who?" A voice asked from behind her.

She would know that deep tenor anywhere. Her legs wobbled and her insides turned to mush. She turned around and met the same perfect blue eyes she fell in love with she was still just a girl. "Oliver?" She was scooped up in his arms without a chance to blink. And damn it, she felt like she was home again. Don’t sigh. Don’t sigh. She sighed. She couldn’t help it. It was her Oliver.

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

Hope you liked it. Let me know in the comments. Tinseltown on AO3 

Many thanks to my awesome beta reader @tdgal1

@thebookjumper @miriam1779 @nerdyandturdy @mortallock @hope-for-olicity@olicityendgame @emmilynestill @felicityssoliver @theolicitylibrary

[mikenips]

You Can Never Go Home Again

“Artur?”  Pop a different tape in the player.  I can’t even watch that tape yet.  And I didn’t even know the guy personally.  Just one of those figures you see walking around town.  The type of character you wanna ask all the questions to.  But also afraid to approach.  Our inspirations will always hurt us more than the people we know.

“Yes.”  The smashed beak of a nose gets you first.  He’s a quirky looking man.  Wears those big, goofy glasses nerds wear in your 1950s nostalgia.  “You say your making movie on Bart?”

“Yeah.”  My camera shakes as I get outta the car.  Nearly dropped the fuckin’ thing.  Quick shot of the puddle it would’ve sunk in.  Brown.  With a faded can of Miller High Life pacing back and forth with the breeze.  You can tell someone shotgunned it.  Wonder if it’s a remnant of Pharm House.  The rusted whip-its in the street aren’t.  See more of them on the streets of Hamtown than ants or rats.  “It’s for a class project at Wayne State.”

“Good school.”  He nods.  Pats the head of the dog in the backseat of his Jeep.  Crack swooping down the front driver’s side windshield.  “Come.  I show you house.”

The house is set far back on the yard.  Red siding giving it that farm look.  Probably was a house for farm animals or something.  Smaller than the rest of the homes on the block.  But also stands taller.  Gets higher than the rest of the block.  No matter how much weed Bart shared with the neighbors as they watched from the safety of the porch.  Staring at the graffiti covered tree.  “Bart was good kid.  Good tenant.  Always remind me to pick up rent.  You know.  I forget those things sometimes.  Spent many nights drinking with him.  He was always out and about.  Caught him buying coke from a bartender one time.  Tell him he shouldn’t do that.  He laughed.  Said he knew.  So I laugh.

“Shame when I tell him I had to evict him.  But he’s real smart.  He knew he was in the wrong.  Admitted it.  Left like he was supposed to.  Can even tell he tried fixing the damages.  I give him security deposit back.  For the effort.  Plus now I have this artifact.  I see kids, just like you, checking it out all the time.  I don’t know how they find it.  But they come to the house.

“See!”  He points to a dip in the lawn.  Patchy grass attempting to cover the dirt there before it.  “I talk to Bart after he leave.  Ask for stories.  Why these kids come to my house?  Just to look!  He give me tour.  Now I do the same for you.

“In Summer.  He throw a big barbeque.  Neighbors sit on their front porch and watch too.  They all spoke highly of him after he left.  It was for the homeless.  And the bands play right out here!  Crazy right?”

The banister of the porch is cracked.  My head plays the video from Shithole’s Facebook page.  Dooley attempting to hurtle the three foot tall plank of wood.  Catching his Croc on it.  Yanks it all down before landing on the rusty screws and splintering bark where the dip in the lawn would be.  Brad running up and stealing his sunglasses.  The pit swirls to the fuzzed out guitar still ripping through the chaos.  Dooley coming to his feet and hurling the bass at Brad.  Ripping the jack from the body.

And the whole time.  Barf stands quietly behind the mess.  That smile cuts through the grainy video from somebody who clearly owns an Android.  No shirt.  Fringe vest.  Jeans torn to shreds.  Camera around his neck.  Sipping on a bottle of champagne.  Standing next to his grandma.  Claps triumphantly over the crowd.  “Kids.  The bands play.  They run around.  Hit each other.  I see it sometimes at the shows here.  So interesting.  Not for me.  But fun to watch.”

“Yeah.”  I laugh a bit.  “We call that a mosh pit.  Let’s out all that aggression people tell you it’s not ok to let out.”

“Mosh pit…”  He stares at the patchy lawn.  “It did make pit alright.  But Bart always cut grass himself.  Sometimes I drive past and see him doing it.  No shirt.  Drinking Stroh’s.  Make me laugh everytime.”

Get on the porch.  As he unlocks the door my camera takes in the front window.  Backstage seats.  See an occasional face in the footage of the show.  Bits of shower curtain still stuck to the red siding from front lawn movie nights.  “It crazy.  Still feels weird coming in.  I always give Bart his privacy.  I don’t want to intrude on him.  But when I see house after.  Maybe I should have.  Damages everywhere.  Look here at steps.”

His arm sweeps in the direction of the stares.  But the camera continues to film the rest of the walls.  A mattress in the middle of the living room.  Chipped paint and random bits of tape still clinging by an inch to the drywall.  Wooden chairs around the feet imprints of a coffee table.  Instantly I can scrap book various images and videos to fill the rest of the now empty home.  Some characters in black and white.  Others pixelated and grainy.  In off hue colors.

Zoom in on the wooden landing below the staircase.  Slivers of empty space dart across the square panel.  Trying to find an escape from the pressure dropping on it.  “Not many know this story.  Very old story from Bart’s twenty first birthday.  He said he didn’t know many people then.  And nobody knows what the future will find worthy of keeping.  So not so many videos of that party.

“Bart says a friend of his.  Record producer that joined the Navy did it.  Bart says he looks around living room.  Everybody pointing and gasping at the stairs.  Bart standing just inches from landing.  Doesn’t see him jump.  Flies from second story to landing on Bart’s skateboard.  And he break the floor.  Looks at Bart laughing and says ‘at least the skateboard is in tact.’

“Back of house or upstairs first?”  Camera fixed on the floor’s POV of the second story.  You can tell he never swept his stairs.

“Well.  The upstairs was the main stage for shows.  Let’s get shots of the rest of the house first.  Capture the essence of the party before goin’ to the main attraction.”

“Sounds good.  I like that.  I went to house party one time.  A friend of Bart’s.  Bart always invite me over here.  But I can’t impose on him.  I don’t know if I would want to know what he was doing.  Ignorance is bliss.”

The hallway splits into three rooms.  Pan camera left.  Once I start editing gotta superimpose the Instagram photos of that sink filled with two empty thirty racks.  One of the few photos from the twenty first birthday party.  The cigarette butt that blew up the gas station.

Spin one eighty to the second bedroom.  Which was really more of a glorified closet.  The yellow page of a legal pad still taped to the doorway.  Bart’s handwriting all over it.  “See.  He catch me.  I never wrote in lease that he can’t smoke inside.  But at least he kept it in the spare bedroom.”

We walk through the door.  Blue carpet singed and stained with spray paint.  “I still remember seeing videos as a teenager.  Can barely make out all those artists and musicians sitting in this room through the smoke.  I can hear Dooley, while looking dead at the camera, ‘nicotine hot box!’  Yelling at someone to keep the window closed.”

Tilt from the carpet to the window.  “Very funny story.  I assume this Dooley did.  Bart said he walks in the room.  Can’t breathe.  Can’t see.  Claustrophobic.  Tries to open window.  And somebody slams it from his hand.  Tears the blinds off.  Everybody laughs.  Now.  Blinds don’t close.  That’s still the sheet Bart hangs up over the blinds to block window.  Always wonder why he didn’t buy new blinds instead.”

The peacock couch is long gone.  A thirty five dollar purchase Bart made while on acid thrifting in high school.  Great clip of Cole Sanders from the Turds sitting on the couch.  Paisley shirt and leather jacket.  Looks like he’s trying to sell molly to teenagers.  Smoking Spirits.  Talking about listening to new wave.  While Echo and the Bunnymen play in the background.  The seam of his pants splitting wide open.

Tucked in the closet are various paintings.  “Do you know where these are from Artur?”

“No.  I find them hanging throughout the house after Bart leave.  Just lost artworks.  Some collage.  Some photography.  Some paintings and drawings.  All different people I assume.”

Flip through them.  Some standard CCS bullshit.  Some pop art homages.  Recognize the outsider doodle.  An original Cole Sanders.  Got a few hanging up in the apartment.  Then I see it.  Propped by itself on the opposite corner of the wall.  A surrealist portrait.  Oil on canvas.  A puke puddle of tie dye morphing to the doorways and walls of a house.  The colors give way to textures of fur and skin.  Even a slight haze of smoke.  The blobs lava lamp in the familiar image of Bart.  Camera zooms in on the interpretation of the image shared on Facebook this morning.

I recognize the style from the walls of Jenkem.  The holy grail in the mythos of Barf’s scene.  The piece Tara painted of him.  Something along the lines of paying him back after a bender that whole group went on.  She offered to paint him a portrait.  But the piece was lost after Pharm House got busted.  You can see it in a handful of videos all the way back on some people’s Instagram highlights.  If you know whose account to stalk.  “Can I take this?”

“Go ahead.  They just sit anyways.  Come see the bathroom.”

The white tile wall is stained orange.  Strands of hair stuck to it.  Stuck to the tub.  Stuck to the floor.  Stuck to the wall behind the door.  How the fuck do you even get hair stuck there?  A nice gradient of the off white tub fades from two circles to pitch black.  Two feet protecting some bit of fake porcelain from the dirt that would pool up.  “You know.  When I get house back.  The drains are all plugged in the bathtub.  So I cut into wall.  Take out pipes.  Pumpkin seeds!  There are pumpkin seeds in the drain.  Causing it to clog.  How do pumpkin seeds get in the bathtub?  I never ask Bart that.”

“There was one show here.  A band performing smashed a pumpkin upstairs.  Must’ve just gotten stuck to his foot or something.  Just trying to wash it all away.  Flush everything down the drain.”

Zoom in down the moldy drain.  Cutting off the rust colored stain on the bathroom floor.  Don’t even need to explain what that’s from.  I don’t know.  It seemed artsy at the time.  Now it just seems so pretentious.  The whole fuckin’ tour of the house seems pretentious.  Who does shit like this?  Maybe that’s Barf’s biggest illusion.  Getting people to create their own illusion of a home.  When nothing at all ever actually happened there.  Just a guy living life.  Never cleaning the bathtub because “the bathtub cleans me.”

“So this is my favorite part.”  Artur’s teeth crack the seal of his lips.  With the smile of a proud father.

Turn the corner at the top of the stairs.  A quick shot out the window at the top.  A toilet when Barf was too spun to figure out how to use stairs to go back down.  The master bedroom takes up the whole second floor.  The main stage.  Most people said they didn’t even know Bart actually slept up there.  Thought the mattresses were just decorative soundproofing.  Maybe the whole house was just a decoration.  “What’s that gash in the wall?”

“Cymbal.  Bart says hi-hat.  From Navy man’s going away party.  He says they cover ‘Blew My Mind.’  I forget the singer.  Chaos ensues.  How the hi-hat got behind the drummer?  Beats me!”

The famous send off show for the king.  Shitholes’s drummer.  Devil’s Night.  Dooley tryin’ to do coke off the amp during the set.  But the room had too many bodies.  Too humid.  Dooley yellin’ “it’s not working!  Fuck!”

“But this my favorite.  Look up!”  Tilt the camera to the angled ceiling.  A purple splatter that runs the length of the wall.  “Bart tell me he stand in back watching band.  Guitar gets stuck in chandelier.  Again.  Beats me how Bart never broke the chandelier.  Somebody as you said ‘moshes’ and falls into Bart.  His forehead hit bottle and it spills everywhere.  Even on ceiling!”

“So why’s that your favorite part?”

Focus back on Artur; with the same proud father smile.  “It’s jezy!  Good Polish boy drinking Leroux.  He always stay true to heritage.  Even that bar he buys.  Classic bar here from his grandparents’s time.  He buy it and revamp it for new kids to come to Hamtown and celebrate history.”

“That’s perfect Artur.”  The camera drops to my side.  But always keep it rolling.  Even when you think you got enough.  You never know what you’ll pick up on.  A random splice of life.  An absurd image that you never thought would mean something to you.  Like a still shot of a clump of hair in the corner next to beer a splattered and blown bass amp.  Probably Dooley.  He was famous for that shit.  “If you don’t mind I’m gonna get a few shots of the house from the outside.  But you can lock up and go if you want.”

“Of course.  Film!  Film!  Capture every moment.  That is why I don’t fix house.  This is history.  Other people need to see what happened here.”

As Art’s car takes off a neighbor’s voice calls from the porch next door.  The POV spins rapidly to the old black man.  “Are you another one of those punks here to do something crazy?  I’ll have you know this is more than some party house.  This is our neighborhood.  Bart never would’ve let stuff like this happen here.”

“No sir.  I’m actually working on a student film about Bart.  What do you mean he wouldn’t let stuff like this happen?”

“Well.  Bart threw parties.  And a lotta times they got outta hand.  But that’s what your twenties should be about.  Having a good time with your friends while you can.  But as the parties got bigger, they turned into free for alls.  Bart was trying to showcase new artists.  And it spiraled into this mess from giving everybody a platform to letting anybody do shit.  And now all these young kids show up and try to recreate those moments without really understanding what was going on.  How old are you kid?”

“Twenty one.”

“Exactly.  You were too young when Bart lived here to see what he was actually doing.  Things got outta hand.  But he always picked up the empty cans.  And he always made sure we felt welcome and comfortable.  He would move cars so we could park in front of our own houses.  He would pass the joint.  Bring us food he made.  He was providing a neighborhood for everybody to join.  Not just throwing parties.”

“So you think he was doing something good for the city?”

“He gave young people a place to celebrate themselves.  He just got carried away with it all.  And I don’t think it was him.  I think it was you kids that just looked at it as all fun and games that ended up with him being hurt.”